Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The brisk evening air swept across the darkened beach side, carrying the scent of fresh salt to the boy's nostrils. He stared out to sea from his overlook by the stone house, watching the moon's reflection on the waves. It was a perfectly peaceful night; only wisps of excited chatter from down on the beach disturbed the serenity. Faint silhouettes scurried about in the shadow of the lighthouse. A lone flicker of flame broke through the darkness; it bobbed as its carrier stumbled about in search of the fuse. The boy sighed and turned his head. They had to be out of their minds. Being caught in the kitchen without Matron's supervision was already enough to land them in serious trouble. Swiping the matches and fireworks set aside for the new year was on a level yet unheard of. Morbid curiosity alone kept him standing there.

They'd invited him to take part in the night's mischief. Perhaps two months earlier he would have even accepted; he'd have gone merrily bounding down the sandy trail with the others, throwing all caution to the wind for the chance to light his own firecracker. There was no such joy now. Even as he saw sparks fly from the lit fuse, there was only emptiness. Nothing could fill the gaping hole in his heart. Not the peaceful night, not the soothing breeze, nor the view from which to watch the spectacle unfold. He needed to be strong, just as Matron had told him. He could always count on her to know the right thing to do.

The firework's whistle cut through the calm like a piercing siren. Higher and higher it climbed, its tail tracing a swathe across the sky. It burst into a dazzling splash of green moments later. The explosion rocked the beach side, giving way to a chorus of cheers below, and a single shrieking cry from just behind him.

"I'm telling!"

The boy whipped his head over his shoulder. Right on cue, the orphanage's resident tattle-tale came bolting from the house. He tore down the path to the shore as fast as his little legs would carry him.

"You're all gonna get in so much trouble!" he called. The second rocket drowned out whatever else he shouted to them.

He needn't have bothered; between the sheer volume of both explosions, this one producing a crimson shower of stars, Matron would be out to deal with them shortly. There was nothing for this loudmouthed brat to gain by sticking his nose where it didn't belong. He'd already been branded an outcast among them. Keeping his mouth shut would have suited him better; trying to weasel his way back into the group was a sign of weakness. Disgusted, the boy made his silent vow.

I'm never gonna be like him. I don't need anyone's help. I'm gonna be strong, and I'm gonna do it on my own.

"Say that to my face again!"

Squall shut his eyes in frustration; he couldn't stand to face the foul-mouthed blonde another moment. They'd never gotten along. The one year age-gap between them was the only buffer Squall had from Seifer's constant abuse. He couldn't imagine how much torment the 6th year students who shared classes with him received on the daily. Neither did he care; his own suffering was all that concerned him. He exhaled through his nose to soothe his rising temper, and opened his eyes.

"I said, quit being such an asshole. Or don't. Just leave me out of it. Now go away."

Squall turned down the hall towards his next class. He'd barely taken three steps before a hand caught his wrist from behind.

"You've got a real mouth on you," Seifer snarled as he spun him back around.

He yanked his arm upward, drawing him in to where their faces were mere inches from one another. Squall flitted his eyes as he struggled in place. A circle of students slowly formed around the two, muttering in anticipation of a fight.

"Is that how you speak to your upperclassmen? Sounds like someone needs to teach you some manners."

"Let him go, Seifer!"

The two averted their heated stares from one another. A familiar 6th year girl with glasses and blonde pigtails stepped forward from the crowd. Her furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips painted a clear picture of disapproval; it was the same no-nonsense look she routinely gave Seifer whenever he stepped out of line. The smug boy returned it with a scowl.

"Always in the right place at the right time," he grumbled. "This is between me and him. Stay out of it!"

He turned his attention back to Squall, his lips curling into a sardonic smile.

"Unless the little wuss is too scared to back up his tough talk. How 'bout it? You need big bad Quisty to tag in for you?"

Squall lowered his eyes to the polished floor, his free fist balled in anger; he could no longer contain his hatred for the belligerent blonde.

"Your breath stinks..." he mumbled as he began to gather saliva in his mouth.

"What was that?" Seifer leaned in even closer.

With a whip of his head, Squall tilted his face back up and spit. The loogie splatted on Seifer's nose, his eyes on either side widening in shock. The onlookers all around gasped and guffawed. Quistis shrieked Squall's name in horror. He paid none of them any mind as a vindictive smirk crossed his face.

"I said, your breath stinks!"

The moment's victory blinded him to the incoming punch to his gut. He doubled over as the wind was knocked from his lungs. Seifer viciously thrust him to the ground in front of the now hysterical crowd; the adrenaline firing through him reduced their commotion to a hazy white noise. As he braced himself for the impending flurry of fists, one voice rose above the rest.

"Almasy!" it roared angrily.

The erupting pandemonium fell silent. Squall creaked open his eyes to peer upward. A middle-aged man with a neatly combed haircut and trimmed moustache had seized Seifer's wrist. Despite having never taken one of his classes, Instructor Aki's reputation transcended the divide between grade levels; his strict and stodgy persona had made him infamous among the entire student body.

"Come with me to my office at once," he ordered. "Trepe, see him to the infirmary. The rest of you, to your classes, on the double!"

The crowd immediately dispersed in all directions. Instructor Aki turned away, forcibly dragging Seifer down the hall towards his classroom. Squall sat upright and placed a hand to his gut. The spot was sore, and likely bruised beneath his shirt, but not so painful he would need to see the Garden medical staff. Quistis dropped to her knees beside him, her eyes brimming with concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"It's nothing," he insisted. "I've been through worse in training."

"Squall, you should have just walked away. All you did was give him the attention he wants."

"It's none of your business."

"It is when I have to take you to the infirmary! I've told you, if he keeps picking on you, just let me know and I'll make sure something's done about it."

"I don't need your help. And I don't need to go to the infirmary."

He rose from the floor, and turned his back to her. Much as Seifer infuriated him, her patronizing was hardly an improvement. He shuffled away down the hall towards his next class, regretting only that he would be marked tardy.

I'm not about to play the victim and let someone else fight my battles for me. I can take care of myself. I always have…

A successive clanging of steel rang out across the Alcaud Plains. Many miles of lush forest led the way north to the Gaulg Mountains, their peaks still topped with residual snow. Fields of vibrant green stretched south towards the shore. An imposing synthetic structure resembling a giant conch shell stood in the center of it all; the shimmering floating halo above glistened blue and gold in the early morning hours. Atop a rocky plateau due just north, a pair of swordsmen stood locked in a fearsome duel, the most recent of many over seven years of heated rivalry.

The boys had become young men. Each slash and parry attested to the years both had spent furthering their skill with the blade. Their speed and precision more than made up for whatever their movements lacked in grace. The intensity with which they flung themselves at each other was evident, the bloodlust between them palpable. This was no friendly sparring, but a grudge match. It was a challenge Squall couldn't have refused if he'd wanted. Though he despised the reputation he shared with Seifer, he could never back down. To show weakness was to be stripped of his autonomy. That was a fate he deemed worse than death.

Squall brought his gunblade thundering down, only for Seifer to sidestep out of harm's way. The blonde swiped past him, knocking him off balance. He quickly regained his footing, and swiveled around. Seifer's boots skidded to a halt on the opposite end of the gravelly terrain, his own gunblade resting at his side. His face wore the same familiar smirk that had provoked him for so long; it reaffirmed louder than any taunt that his struggle was in vain.

Yet there remained one distinct advantage in Squall's arsenal his rival could not match. Not for lack of ability, but a stubborn aversion he refused to pivot on. Perhaps it would be underhanded to exploit the imbalance between them, dishonorable even. But war knew no honor among enemies. Squall had come into this fight expecting no degree of sportsmanship. He would show none in return. It was not his duty to accommodate Seifer's own self-imposed constraints.

He spread his legs, and outstretched his free hand as if to form a halting gesture. Seifer's smirk faded as he seemed to recognize its true purpose. His expression turned to irritation. Squall disregarded his rival, his focus set on channeling the energy into his hand. He'd trained rigorously over the last three years, to where the process was now second nature. And so, when after several moments the usual rush of energy hadn't come, he knew something was awry.

Not content to stay idle, he charged forward. He kept his arm outstretched, desperately willing the energy to flow through him. His confusion turned to shock as Seifer raised his own hand. A blazing sphere of orange flame had formed from his palm. Squall stumbled to a halt. He barely managed to raise his gunblade in time to block the fireball.

He grunted as he fell, his mind racing to make sense of it all. Why had he been unable to conjure his own fireball? Why had Seifer broken his vow? And how could he possibly turn things around? With no time to ruminate, he forced himself back to his feet. As he rose to one knee, his downcast eyes met a pair of black boots, and the whipping coattails of a long grey jacket.

"What a disgrace," a snide voice derided him. "I'd say some discipline's in order."

Squall tilted his head up to meet the face of his rival. His eyes went wide as he saw Seifer's gunblade raised high over his head, ready to fall like a guillotine. Time slowed to a crawl. His mind screamed in alarm, begging him to leap for cover. His legs refused to comply; he simply couldn't right himself quickly enough. He opened his mouth to cry out, but the blade fell before he could utter a sound. It passed between his eyes, cleaving a diagonal slice across the bridge of his nose. He screamed as the force twisted his head to the side, his neck on the verge of snapping. Blood splattered across the rock below as the blade left his flesh.

The pain was beyond any Squall had ever known. His face was on fire. He grit his teeth in anguish, seething with uncontrollable rage as the blood spilled down his features. All was red; he could no longer form a cogent thought, much less curse Seifer for subjecting him to such agony. All he cared for in that moment was vengeance at any cost. Acting purely on instinct, he slashed his own gunblade upward with a roar of righteous fury. The scream to follow finally snapped him from his trance.

Seifer doubled over as he stumbled backward. He clutched at his face with both hands, his sword dropping to the ground with a metallic clang. Squall allowed his own to fall from his grasp. His vision cleared as his rational mind returned. He brought one hand up to cover the wound between his eyes, and fumbled for the supply pouch on his belt with the other; he'd packed extra bandages for such a scenario. Just as he'd located the zipper, a fist slammed down on the back of his head. He toppled to the ground, face-first.

The bludgeoning continued, endlessly, mercilessly. As the world around him slowly faded away, a single affirmation crept into his mind. It was a mantra long since internalized, and now more applicable than ever before.

That's just how it goes. The world isn't fair. It's cruel. And everyone faces it on their own…

Chapter Text

"Come on, Laguna! We're going to miss our ride!"

"Just gimme a sec, will ya?!" he hollered back. "Not like it's gonna be an in-and-out job. Gotta make sure I'm not forgettin' anything."

Laguna Loire glanced into the mirror on the inside of his locker door. The navy blue Galbadian military attire should have cut a dazzling figure on him. Indeed, it would have, had he bothered to press and polish its components; the pant legs were visibly wrinkled, the silver breastplate and shoulder mail sullied with grime. He'd let his hair grow freely since completing basic training less than a year earlier; the flowing brown mane was further from the standard crew cut than any other soldier dared to tread the line. Besides inviting the ire of his superiors, it could often prove a challenge to keep stuffed into his helmet. Regardless, he couldn't bring himself to cut it.

He was by all accounts an unmotivated slacker. Though part of him resented the label, he was honest enough to recognize the kernel of truth contained within. His was not the heart of a soldier. He was a free spirit, who dreamed of seeing all the world had to offer. He'd enlisted seeking an opportunity to broaden his horizons, in the hope he might discover his true calling along the way. He never could have predicted the start of the war mere months later. Though things hadn't turned out quite how he'd imagined, his time in the service wasn't without its silver lining. It had led him to meet his two best friends, who both now stood outside, waiting for him to finish up.

He scanned his eyes over his utility belt, perusing the articles he carried: spare ammunition magazines, two grenades, a rappel cable, and a small container of first-aid supplies. All the essentials were accounted for. Satisfied, he reached into the locker and withdrew his weapon. It was a standard issue assault rifle, no different from those carried by most ground troops. For Laguna however, it was so much more; it was the symbol that instilled him with the confidence to face down any enemy, the catalyst which could transform a man who cared little for violence into a hardened dog of war. He slung it over his shoulder, and reached back inside to retrieve his visored helmet from the upper shelf. His preparations complete, he closed the locker door, and stepped out into the hall.

"All set?" the voice from before asked. Its owner stood propped up against the side of the door frame.

Kiros Seagill's tall, lean figure looked too slender to belong to a soldier. His dark features likewise appeared too smooth for a man. In the time Laguna had known him however, he'd proven a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, particularly in the realm of close-quarters combat. Three braided, beaded dreadlocks extended from the rear of his black crew cut, a constant reminder to Laguna that there were ways to manage his own hair without taking a razor to it. Even so, he could never picture that particular style suiting him.

Flanking Kiros was a man taller still, and at least three times as wide. Ward Zabac was a fearsome giant; he stood at an even seven feet, sporting musculature Laguna and Kiros combined couldn't match. He was never seen anywhere without his signature bandanna on his head, the same vibrant blue as his piercing eyes. A wicked scar like a small river ran from his left temple down to his stubbled chin. To date, he'd never told them how he'd received it. Despite Laguna's curiosity, he knew it wasn't his place to ask.

"Yup, good to go!" he affirmed.

"We're heading into a full-on war zone, you know," Kiros reminded him. "So, no goofing around like last time."

[… where am I?]

"Wh… who was goofing around?" Laguna feigned offense.

He stumbled over his words as a strange tingling sensation washed over him; it dissipated just as quickly.

"We'll be fine. I don't know 'bout you guys, but I've got too much left to do with my life to go keeling over out there."

"Like gawk at the piano lady some more?" Ward asked.

"Don't call her 'the piano lady'! She's got a name!"

Ward pulled his helmet over his bulbous head, and turned down the hall. Kiros followed suit, snickering as he flashed Laguna a knowing look. Such ribbing was part and parcel of their friendship. Putting up with it was a small price to pay; at the end of the day, there were no other two men he'd rather have in his corner.

Kinda wish they didn't have to bust my balls so often, though…

Squall awoke to the sound of merry birdsong. No sooner had he creaked open his eyes, he brought up his arm to shield them; the sunlight streaming through the window over his head was much too bright. A figure rose from the swivel chair by his bedside, slender and wrapped in a shawl. His grogginess paired with the light's intensity kept him from making out anything more. The visitor - likely a woman, judging by her bodily dimensions - rounded the foot of the bed to the exit. She stopped as the automatic doors hissed open.

"Squall," a feminine voice spoke his name. "It's good to see you."

The girl stepped through, leaving him alone in the vacant infirmary wing. Even without a proper look over his surroundings, he recognized the familiar scent of sanitizer and latex. It was far from the first time he'd been admitted, nor did he expect it to be his last. He sat up in the cramped twin bed, and brought up his wrist to take note of the time. 'Thursday, February 11th, 09:52,' the watch's digital display read. Nearly 5 hours had passed since his and Seifer's appointed meeting time on the rocky plateau.

His hand shot to his forehead as he recalled the excruciating pain. He brushed away the fringe of his unruly brown hair to find a thick bandage beneath; it trailed diagonally between his eyes where Seifer's gunblade had struck. Only as he traced it with his fingers did it occur to him just how fortunate he'd been; even the slightest misdirection of the blade could have cost him one or both of his eyes. Whether it were owed to Seifer's precision or sheer dumb luck, he couldn't say for certain. Neither could he fathom how he'd been returned to the Garden for treatment. Surely it hadn't been Seifer's doing.

The automatic doors hissed open again before he could think it over. Two women stepped inside together, and turned their attention to him.

"Well, look who's awake," the first dryly commented.

She was middle-aged, with her greying hair tied up in a bun. The lab coat she wore reflected her position among the Garden medical staff. Squall would have just as easily recognized her without it, given the number of times he'd found himself in her care over the years. Dr. Kadowaki had been the chief practitioner at Balamb Garden since its inception. She was the very picture of professionalism, offset by an underlying sarcastic streak reserved for her regular patients.

"How did I just know it would be either you or Seifer?" the second sighed.

Squall's lips curled into a frown; hers was another face he could never mistake, much to his displeasure. Of every student to have trained in the Garden, none had advanced through the ranks as quickly as Quistis Trepe. She was the acclaimed prodigy of Balamb Garden, the youngest certified instructor by five years, and something of a celebrity among the student body. Seldom did he see her not dressed in her black SeeD uniform of late; today was no exception. Two golden fringes on either side of her face had replaced the pigtails from years gone by, with the remainder of her hair tied up in a duck tail fashion in the back. Her blue eyes behind her silver-rimmed glasses showed exasperation. Squall averted his own. Her persistent nagging had continued unabated until the present. That she'd become his de-facto instructor six months earlier was almost more than he could stomach.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Kadowaki asked.

"Okay, I guess. My head hurts a bit, though."

"Yeah, no kidding," she scoffed as she took his medical chart. "That was one deep cut. I managed to stop the bleeding, sanitize the wound, and do some suturing, but you'd better believe it's going to leave a scar. Seifer looked like he had one just like it when he brought you in. What the hell were you two trying to do to each other out there?"

"Seifer… brought me here?"

"Yep, had you slung over his shoulders like a hunter. He'd wrapped bandages around your head and his. Dropped your sword off right there."

Squall followed her pointing finger to the side of the bed. Sure enough, his gunblade stood propped up against the nightstand.

"Stubborn fool wouldn't let me treat him. I also let a friend of yours in to see you, but it looks like she's already left."

"My friend?" he repeated.

"Will he be alright to participate in the exam today?" Quistis interjected. Squall's eyes went wide.

The exam's today? Already?

"I'd say so. The sutures should hold so long as he avoids any more trauma to the head. Seriously kid, forget the scar, you came in looking like you took a real beating out there."

She sighed as she placed his chart on the nightstand, and turned her full attention to him.

"Take it easy out there, alright? I know you love to push your luck, but that was a close call you just had. You might not get so lucky again."

"Tell that to Seifer," he retorted.

"That Seifer… won't listen to anyone, will he? Can't you just ignore him for once?"

"Don't even bother with that, Doctor," Quistis crossed her arms. "I've been trying to get that through his skull since…"

She paused, appearing lost in thought for a moment.

"You know… I think it's gotten to where I genuinely can't remember how long it's been."

"I can't just run away," Squall insisted.

"Hard headed in more ways than one, I see," Dr. Kadowaki snorted. She reached out to carefully remove the bandage from between his eyes. "You want to be cool, huh? Well, don't go getting yourself killed while you're at it. Consider yourself discharged. Just remember to keep the water pressure down when you shower, and try not to stand with your forehead directly under the stream. You're free to go. And seriously, take care of yourself out there."

"Noted."

He lifted off the duvet to swing his feet out of bed. His black boots waited for him on the floor beside. He slipped his feet in and laced them quickly; time was of the essence. What little wonder he'd dreamed of being a soldier headed off to battle; the day for which he'd spent his entire student life in training had finally arrived. With his footwear secured, he rose to his feet, and snatched his gunblade from the bedside. He pulled the weapon from its solid black sheath to inspect for wear or damage.

The polished silver blade gleamed in the sunlight, its custom stenciled engraving of a lion's head popping out against the shiny metal alloy. The cross guard was designed in the likeness of a six round revolver. More than a stylistic flourish, each of the six chambers held an explosive round, which could be fired by pulling the trigger on the weapon's hilt. The vibration produced served to further magnify the impact of the strike, allowing the blade to cleave through sturdier material than a normal sword.

Few were the cadets who'd ever selected it as their weapon of choice; the sense of timing required to master it presented a steep learning curve. At the moment, there were only two: himself, and the man who'd brought him to the infirmary, in both respects. The tip of the blade was soiled with a smudge of crimson. Squall could only vaguely recall his retaliation on Seifer, so wholly consumed by the agony his mind had been. He made a mental note to clean it when he got back to his dorm, and re-sheathed the sword.

After clipping it to his intertwined belts, he turned to his instructor, and followed her out the door. They passed through the infirmary lobby into the corridor connecting to the academy's main hub. Through the glass windows lining either side, he could see cadets milling about the adjacent courtyards. Some rushed to make it to their next class. Others less preoccupied aimed to make the most of such a refreshingly mild morning; the last dregs of winter were finally drawing to a close. Picnic tables dotted the expanse, some playing host to Triple Triad card games. A thicket of trees to the south lent their shade to yet more students reading or resting. Such was a day in the life at Balamb Garden, the world-renowned institution where young minds trained rigorously each day. Their collective mission: to join the ranks of the elite mercenary army, SeeD.

The Garden was the place Squall had called home for as long as he could remember. At more than half a mile in diameter, and not much shorter in height, it was visible even from the namesake town of Balamb twenty miles away. The central structure resembled a towering blue, silver, and gold conch shell. A wide suspended ring with a cross-shaped crest floated over top like a halo. The seven primary outer facilities and the front gate branched out from the center, dividing the open space between into eight semi-circular inner courtyards.

"What's on your mind?" Quistis chimed as they strolled along.

"Nothing."

His response sounded in stereo; she'd anticipated and mimicked his reply of choice, intonation and all. She burst into a mischievous giggle the next moment. It never ceased to amaze him that this still juvenile woman, only a year older than him, was now his instructor.

"What's so funny?" he snapped.

"Funny?" she fought to catch her breath. "No, that's not it. I'm just… happy. I feel like I'm finally beginning to understand you is all."

"I'm not that easy to figure out."

"Then tell me more about yourself sometime. If there's anything you want to talk about, I'm all ears."

"That's-"

"-none of your business?"

She'd done it again.

"Fine, you don't have to if you don't want to. Anyway, exam participants are to assemble in the ballroom in cadet attire at 1100. That gives you a little less than an hour to clean yourself up, check your equipment, and make your way upstairs. I'll be the one overseeing your squad."

"How convenient," he muttered as he took his leave.

Wonder what strings she had to pull to make that happen.

The Garden's main hub consisted of an unbelievably vast atrium. A wide circular pathway traced the circumference on the outer rim, branching off in each of the eight compass directions. Beneath the walkways sloshed what was essentially a small lake, the water constantly refilled by a series of fish shaped fountains erected in the open spaces. Four sets of stairs to the north, south, east, and west sides led up to the raised central platform. There, a wide pillar surrounded by glass capsule elevators reached up into the ceiling on the 10th level. An intertwining network of yet more walkways shot off from each of the lower levels like a hive.

Students scurried to and fro as Squall made his way around to the northern dormitories. Along the way, he caught several unnerved glances from passersby. He expected he would be getting a lot of that today. All the same, it piqued his curiosity. He arrived at his dorm after several minutes of navigating the familiar halls, fished his card key out of his back pocket, and unlocked the door. It opened to the central common area he shared with his three roommates. None were present, leaving him to assume they'd already gone ahead to the ballroom. As he entered his room and shut the door behind him, he turned to look in the mirror hung on its back.

His casual attire was the same as always, a bleak and somber wardrobe comprised almost entirely of black; black boots, pants, gloves, and his leather bomber jacket with a white fur-trim collar. He wore a pair of brown belts intertwined in an X around his waist. A silver pendent in the shape of a roaring lion's head dangled from his neck; it was the same design he'd had engraved on his gunblade, and the ring on his left hand.

As his eyes finally met themselves in the mirror, he saw for the first time the freshly cut swathe between them amid some noticeable bruising. It began above his right eye, and continued across the bridge of his nose to just under the corner of his left. Surprisingly, the scar seemed to suit him; it gave him a more battle hardened appearance. His only disappointment came with the knowledge of who it had been dealt to him by.

At least I didn't end up like Fujin.

He strolled into his private bathroom, and began to undress. While he was forced to share the central common and kitchen area with his roommates, each of their bedrooms came with their own attached bathroom and shower combo. He stripped down, turned the faucet on, and stepped into the stream. Per Dr. Kadowaki's advice, he took care not to raise the pressure too high. As he rinsed the grime and sweat away, his thoughts turned to the forthcoming battle.

The SeeD field exam was held annually, traditionally within a month prior to the school term’s end in mid-March. Each was a full-fledged military operation, conducted for the purpose of testing the skills of Balamb cadets on the battlefield. Those who passed were awarded the title of SeeD. As each was to be a real assignment, scheduling a suitable operation in advance was impossible. Therefore, all registered students were given a two week period in which to prepare, and be ready to roll out at a moment's notice. In the event one could not be arranged within the timeframe, the objective would default to reconnaissance of the southern Centra continent, where there would be no shortage of adversity to overcome. It had only been three days since the standby order, a surprisingly quick turnaround based on prior years.

At 17, this year would be the first in which Squall was eligible to attempt the exam. Garden regulations dictated that each cadet pass before the age of 20; those who did not would be dismissed from the academy. In essence, every student had three potential attempts, though it wasn't unusual for some to abstain in their first year so as to better their skills, and all but expected of students transferring from Galbadia and Trabia Gardens. Seifer and Quistis had made their first attempts the previous year. The former had failed for his unprofessional conduct, while the latter had performed so well, she'd been offered the chance to apply for an instructor's license immediately after graduation.

I will pass.

Squall stepped out of the shower, dried himself, and strode back into his bedroom. He threw on a fresh set of undergarments and dress socks before retrieving his cadet uniform from the closet. Its dark blue pants and jacket were lined with silver flourishes, the shoulders patterned with the SeeD crest on either side. As he donned the familiar attire before the mirror, he was struck with a sudden sense of deja-vu; the color scheme was indeed similar to the Galbadian army's, now that he thought about it. He dressed himself, checked his gunblade was fully loaded, and wiped away the smudge at its tip with a sheer white cloth.

Transferring all necessary articles from his belt-harness to his uniform's standard one proved a tedious chore. He clipped on his ammunition reserve, medical supply pouch, sheathed weapon, and finally reached for the last and arguably most important of all. Seconds passed as he ran his fingers up and down the intertwined leather straps. His heart caught in his throat as he realized it was nowhere to be found.

Where is it?!

He frantically double-checked the belts before throwing them on the bed in frustration. His breathing erratic, he proceeded to comb over the entire room for it; surely it couldn't be far. After five minutes spent searching every drawer, his anxiety became full-blown panic. Had it fallen off on the way back? In the infirmary? Or worse still, when he'd been carried back to the Garden, at which point it might be beyond recovery? With less than 15 minutes before the assembly, he would need to move quickly.

He bolted out the door, his eyes fixed to the ground every step of the way. He retraced his steps back to the atrium, taking the outer rim counterclockwise towards the infirmary. Evading the mob of oncoming students was difficult enough without fighting to peer through a moving flurry of shoes.

"'Scuse me, sorry!" one girl's voice rose above the rest of the chatter. "Sorry, coming through! Oh geez, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!"

Squall was knocked off balance as the girl in question slammed into him. She fell backwards onto the floor with a yelp, prompting the surrounding students to momentarily slow.

"Are you okay?" he asked, extending his hand.

Her hair was brown and shoulder-length, curled upwards on either side of her round face. She paused for a moment at the gesture. Her green eyes returned it with an apprehensive stare, making Squall all the more self-conscious of his new scar and bruises. He opened his mouth to assure her, when the look just as quickly faded away. She took his hand.

"Yeah, thanks," she smiled as she rose to her feet. "Sorry about that. I'm kinda in a hurry."

"Aren't we all?" he chastised her.

He turned to leave; he had his own urgent matter to attend to. A hand caught his sleeve from behind before he could move.

"Um, actually," she started sheepishly. "Could you maybe… point me to where the ballroom is?"

"The ballroom?" he repeated, turning back around. "Are you taking the field exam?"

"Yeah, that's right! Sorry, I just transferred here from Trabia, and I'm still trying to figure out where everything is. This place is so much bigger than back home!"

"You just transferred from Trabia?"

"Yup, moved in about a week ago!"

"And you're already taking the exam?"

"Yeah. Why? Is there a problem with that?"

The ditzy girl's naivete stunned Squall. She seemed completely oblivious to the risks she would face by jumping in right away. Her instructor must have recommended she wait until next year; virtually every other transfer student did so. Charging into battle without mastering her new piece of equipment would put her at a steep disadvantage, and only make her a liability to her assigned squad. Given the manner in which they'd quite literally bumped into one another however, she did seem to be of the 'leap-before-you-look' persuasion.

"No," he lied. "The ballroom's up on the 15th floor. Anyway, good luck. I'll be taking the exam, too."

"Oh, cool! Then since we're heading the same way, can you show me there?"

Damn.

He glanced at his watch: 10:53. What little time he'd had to locate his missing piece of equipment was gone. Even if it were in the infirmary, he'd never make it to the assembly before 1100. Tardiness was expressly frowned upon at Balamb Garden; showing up late could potentially bar him from taking the exam altogether.

"Alright," he reluctantly agreed. "Let's go."

"Woohoo!" she rejoiced. "Thanks so much!"

The two climbed the stairs to the circle of glass capsules around the pillar. As the girl stepped aboard ahead of him, the pair of nunchaku strapped to her back caught his eye. Both iron bars were painted solid red with smatterings of gold, each as long as one of her arms. She pressed the button for the 15th floor as he boarded. The doors slid shut a moment later, dooming Squall to his fate. And yet, if this girl had the courage to face the exam at such a detriment, then so could he. He only hoped Dr. Kadowaki had found his missing piece of equipment; the prospect of having lost it out on the Alcaud Plains was soul crushing.

The elevator shot up, providing them a bird's eye view of the atrium. Figuring he might spare other students from further headache, he took the opportunity to give her a brief overview of the Garden's layout.

"The bottom floor is the connecting hub for all the main facilities. On the north side you have the dorms, the cafeteria, and the parking garage. Then there's the quad to the west-"

"Yeah, I know the quad," she cut him off. "I'm on the committee for this year's Garden Festival. I'm sure it's gonna be great!"

"Whatever. Anyway, going counterclockwise from the quad is the infirmary, the entrance, the library, and the training center. Most of the upper floors are classrooms and lecture halls. Except the physical fitness center on the 10th, and the ballroom on the 15th."

"That's… a lot to take in at once."

"Sorry," he apologized, only half meaning it. "The floors above the ballroom are the living quarters and meeting rooms for faculty and staff. You need special clearance to access those floors. And the 20th floor at the top is the headmaster's office."

"Question! What's the headmaster's name?"

"Headmaster Cid Kramer," he answered as the doors opened. "He'll probably be making a speech to send us off. Come on."

They emerged into a circular antechamber through which the main pillar stemmed. Elaborate golden flourishes of various flowers and trees decorated its walls. He gestured to the double doors standing ajar at the north end of the chamber. They opened into a grand, glass domed ballroom rimmed by towering golden arches. A stage with a speaking podium had been erected against the far wall. Majestic banners hung from each of the room's supporting pillars, set in place for the coming graduation ball. The archways furthest from the door opened to a series of outdoor balconies; the remainder led to the catering and preparation areas which took up most of the rest of the floor. A dense crowd of cadets and SeeDs stood in the middle of it all, gathered in their assigned squadrons.

Several of the Garden's enigmatic faculty stood guard around the room's perimeter. Each wore flowing red and white robes topped by a golden, disk-shaped headpiece. Known collectively to the student body as the 'Thorns', they were a mysterious group charged with upholding the Garden code, possessing a level of authority beyond even instructors and SeeD captains.

"Wow," the girl breathed in amazement. "How many people are signed up for this?"

"Most of the 12th year class," Squall replied. "Plus any stragglers that didn't make it the last two years. Probably somewhere in the 200 range, not counting the SeeDs who'll be accompanying us."

"Squall, over here!"

He turned his head to see Quistis waving from off to the side. A single cadet stood beside her; he was slightly shorter, sporting a similar shade of blonde hair which had been spiked up at the front. Squall's heart sunk as he recognized the tattoo on the left side of his face: a mass of strange black tendrils framing his eye.

Oh, please no…

"That's your squad?" the girl asked.

"Unfortunately," he sighed.

"Aw, don't be such a downer!" she playfully nudged him. "Now, if I can just find my own…"

"Well, I can't help you there. Good luck."

"Wait! Er… 'Squall', was it? My name's Selphie. Thanks for showing me here. And yeah, good luck to you, too!"

She shot off in the opposite direction, wrapping her way around the assembly. Squall trudged over to Quistis and his presumptive squadmate. Much to his dismay, it was exactly who he'd suspected.

"So, I'm with you, huh?" the young man greeted him. "Let's do our best out there, 'kay?"

"Whatever," Squall muttered; he now desperately hoped the exam would be a brief one.

Zell Dincht was a personality entirely opposed to Squall's own: obnoxiously cheery, yet hot-headed and easily riled. He was both a superb martial artist, and a gear-head with a penchant for all things technology. Despite the general laxness he gave off, he wasn't stupid. Yet for all his mechanical know-how, his emotional intelligence matched that of many an underclassman yet to reach basic weapons training.

"Heard Seifer whooped you pretty bad this morning. Well, I can see that now."

"I got him back for it. And it wasn't a fight. We were training."

The lie escaped his lips with greater ease than he'd expected.

"Betcha he doesn't think so. Look, Seifer's just being a pain in the ass like always. All you've gotta do is ignore him."

"That's-"

"-none of your business," Quistis finished for him again, tagging on a small chuckle. "Speaking of which, that 'pain in the ass' as you put him happens to be your squad leader."

"Say what?!" Zell reeled.

It just got worse.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my decision, and it can't be changed. He gets preferential standing for being the most combat experienced of you three."

Seifer being given any modicum of authority truly frightened Squall. He dreaded to consider what manner of abuse awaited him on the battlefield today.

"And, here he comes," Zell groaned. Squall turned back to the entrance as Quistis flagged him down.

Seifer Almasy strode into the ballroom. He was flanked by his two partners in crime, both underclassmen not participating in the exam. To his left was Raijin, a tall, tanned exemplar of fitness; his abs bulged proudly from his stomach, exposed courtesy of his vest left hanging open. His pants were of a baggy black fabric secured by a red cloth-belt. At only 16, he'd already developed a wealth of dark stubble on his jaw.

To Seifer's right was Fujin, a pale young woman with short silver hair. An eye-patch covered her left eye, her right an unnatural red, and yet her most peculiar oddity was not related to her appearance at all. Her manner of speaking was absurdly concise, coming in one word bursts rather than fully formed sentences. Having a proper conversation with her was impossible. Indeed, Squall would at times wonder how the three ever managed to communicate effectively.

The man of the hour was still clad in his casual grey jacket; he would face a deduction for failing to assemble in uniform. He was just as Squall had seen him that morning, save for the fresh scar on his face. It was a mirror image of his own, trailing from below his right eye to just above his left. Squall could hardly believe he'd managed to leave such a precise mark; the rage had been so blinding he could barely remember it. The cut looked slightly more shallow, which was likely what had allowed him to treat it without Dr. Kadowaki's assistance.

"Man, they're like twins now," he heard Zell mutter to Quistis.

Squall frowned; with one ill-advised sword fight, their shared reputation was now etched on their faces for all to see.

"Great," Seifer moaned as he drew near. "I've got to deal with Zell the chicken-wuss this time?"

"What'd you call me?!"

'All you have to do is ignore him.'

"Oh, and before I forget… catch!"

Seifer fished something out of his jacket pocket, and tossed it underhand to Squall. He reflexively leaned forward to grab it with both hands. The small metallic sphere plopped into his cupped palms; it was roughly the size of a billiard ball, with the SeeD emblem engraved on its casing. Taking it in one hand, he depressed the two switches on the top and bottom of the device with his thumb and middle finger. Its two halves parted by half an inch to reveal a blazing energy within.

"Figured you'd still need your training wheels after this morning," Seifer derided him.

Squall unflinchingly stared at the sphere in awe. He ought to have been relieved after getting so worked up over the last half hour trying to find it. Instead, he felt only anger; he recalled the sideswipe Seifer had made past him during their battle, the one that had knocked him off balance. He hadn't lost his Guardian Force, nor faltered in conjuring its power. He'd been pick-pocketed.

"That's enough!" Quistis asserted herself. "Like it or not, these are the teams that have been decided. You three will make up Squad 19, and will be under my jurisdiction. So please, Seifer, don't antagonize your squadmates. Teamwork is one of the most important criteria you'll be judged on. I really do want you to pass."

"'Course he will!" Raijin boasted. "Seifer's gonna clean up this time, y'know?"

"Redemption!" Fujin barked.

"I hope your faith hasn't been misplaced," Quistis replied. "Well, Seifer, you're the squad leader. Good luck to you."

"Please, instructor," he scoffed, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. "I can't stand it when people wish me luck. Save those words for a bad student who needs them, will you?"

"Okay, then. Good luck, Seifer."

Zell stifled a snicker. Even Squall couldn't help letting a smug grin cross his lips. Seifer's eyes narrowed in resentment; he stared daggers at Quistis for several beats before a booming voice reverberated through the hall.

"Attention, students!"

Squall jumped at the sudden swell in volume, and turned to face the stage. A single Thorn stood at the microphone-equipped podium with a stout, middle-aged man by his side. The exam was about to commence. He disengaged the active sphere in his hand and clipped it to the holder on his belt.

"It is 1100 hours," the robed man proclaimed. "The SeeD field exam will begin henceforth. Before the operation commences however, the headmaster would like to say a few words to you all."

The Thorn swiftly abdicated the podium to the elder, brown-haired man. He was dressed in a sharp burgundy vest, with a white dress shirt and emerald tie. His wrinkled face lit up as he gazed out over the crowd, his bespectacled eyes meeting them with a kindly look. Every cadet and SeeD promptly snapped into the Balamb Garden salute; it involved standing at attention with one's right arm held directly upward, palm facing in.

"At ease," Headmaster Cid commanded, clearing his throat. "Good morning, everyone. It's been quite a while, hasn't it? I'm happy to see you all well. I expect you will demonstrate this same confidence and professionalism in the field today. This year's exam will involve a total of 225 participants, split up into 75 squads of three. There will be an even 100 SeeDs dispatched alongside you; should you fail, they will get the job done. There, that should be one less worry on your minds!"

The headmaster chuckled at his own remark. Stony silence enveloped the rest of the room.

"For many of you, this will be your first experience in a real, life-or-death battle. Always keep in mind the lessons you have learned here at this Garden. Allow them to inform your actions in the line of fire. Remember the years you have spent training for this very day. This is your moment to prove your mettle, to earn your place among the ranks of SeeD, the elite mercenary army of Balamb Garden. Learn from them, obey their commands, and accomplish the mission. I wish each and every one of you the best of luck. Let the exam begin!"

The room burst into applause as the headmaster bowed his head to them. Squall joined in with the rest of his team, save for Seifer. It was true. The day of destiny had finally arrived.

"To the parking garage," Quistis ordered. "We're taking the transports into town. Let's move, everyone!"

She made for the ballroom doors. Zell followed in her footsteps just behind. Squall took one step forward and stopped; a hand firmly gripped his shoulder, holding him in place.

"Listen up," a familiar voice menacingly whispered into his ear. "Teamwork means staying out of my way. It's a squad rule. Don't you forget it."

Chapter Text

The short ride aboard the Garden transport had passed without incident. Considering his entourage, Squall wouldn't have had it any other way. They'd sat in silence within the cold, tight confines of the armored infantry truck, packed in with three other squads. The windowless, stainless steel interior provided no view of the outside world. It made no difference to him; he'd traveled the motorway to Balamb many times before. On arrival, they would transfer to the Garden sea vessels docked at the pier. From there, he knew not where they would be bound for, nor which battlefield he would christen as his first.

Balamb Garden had been established on a small island nation. The rationale for the location was twofold: providing an insulated, focused environment for students to thrive in, while reflecting SeeD's mercenary nature in not aligning with any major world power. Prior to its construction, the Alcaud Plains and their neighboring forests had gone largely undisturbed by man. Only a single, quaint port town resided by the water, settled long ago by a guild of fishermen.

The transport eventually ground to a halt. The SeeD closest to the rear door thrust it open, letting the midday sun come streaming in. The four squads and their supervisors all exited onto the dock in an orderly fashion. As he stepped out of the vehicle, Squall turned his head to survey his surroundings. Balamb was a peaceful seaside municipality, its stout brick and sandstone homes on the hill above overlooking the beach. Since its founding, tales of the delectable fish native to the region had spread far and wide. Paired with its seasonally tropical allure, it had become a popular tourist destination, in turn leading to the construction of an underwater transcontinental railway to Galbadia.

Though the Garden and the local government operated independently of one another, an agreement had been brokered for SeeD's naval fleet to remain docked within the town limits. Row after row of sleek blue assault boats floated beside the waterfront just ahead. Each sported a machine gun turret to the fore, and a domed cockpit to the aft; all were manned by one helmeted silhouette apiece. The vessels were designed for speed and nimbleness, capable of exceeding 200 miles per hour. Squall still vividly recalled his first time aboard one two years earlier; he'd been grateful ever since that he wasn't prone to seasickness.

"Man, this is the real deal, huh?" Zell said to no one in particular. All around, dozens of cadets and SeeDs hustled up and down the pier to their designated vessels.

"Better not piss your pants," Seifer chuckled.

"Hah, you talkin' to me?!"

"Knock it off, you two!" Quistis reprimanded them. "When Headmaster Cid said, 'Let the exam begin', he meant it started at that very moment. Don't think just because we haven't reached the battlefield yet that you're not being evaluated right now."

Squall had suspected as much, but thought nothing of it. Remaining mum came effortlessly to him.

"Let's get aboard. It's two squads to a vessel. We'll be sharing ours with Squad 20."

She led the way to one particular assault boat a short ways down the dock. Squall followed her up the stairwell and ducked his head through the starboard side hatch. The interior was furnished by eight arm-rested seats on either side of a rectangular commode. A powered-on monitor hung on the stern side of the cabin. At the bow stood a ladder leading up to the turret. The only other exit at the front opened to the infantry deployment bay; the rungs to the cockpit had been bolted onto the ship's exterior.

The members of Squad 20 sat across from them. Squall's eyes bulged as he looked them over. While the three young cadets were nobody of consequence, their accompanying SeeD's reputation preceded her. For whatever celebrity status Quistis had accrued, it could never hold a candle to her.

Twenty-three year old Xu Adrastia was the undisputed top of the pecking order. It had been two years since her ascension to the rank of Commandant, head officer of SeeD and direct adviser to the headmaster himself. Her qualifications were diverse as they were impressive: a staunch tactician, expert short sword specialist, and the only member of SeeD on record to wield a Guardian Force of the rare holy element. Her sharp, focused features momentarily softened as she rose out of her seat.

"Good to see you, Quistis," she greeted her junior. "I've been looking forward to seeing your first pupils in action."

"Of course," Quistis blushed. "I'm sure they'll perform well."

"That's what I'm expecting. And the administration."

Looks like we're not the only ones being evaluated today.

Xu abruptly turned to Seifer as he strolled in. Her eyes re-narrowed, boring holes through his.

"We're not going to have any more mishaps this time around, are we?"

"Commandant, whatever could you mean?" he feigned innocence. "I only ever act as necessary to ensure the operation's success."

"I'll be the judge of that. Squad 20, ten-hut!"

The three cadets leapt out of their seats to stand at attention.

"Aaron Writ, dragoon, first class," said the first; he carried a retractable steel plated javelin strapped to his back.

"Randall Eversberg, machine gunner, second class," spoke the second; his weapon hung from a shoulder sling, forming an X across his chest with his ammunition bandolier.

"Nida Emmerich, vehicle specialist and medic, first class," the last introduced himself; he bore no obvious arms about him besides a standard pistol.

Squall took the hint and saluted in return.

"Squall Leonhart, gunblade specialist, first class."

"Zell Dincht, tech specialist and CQC, first class."

"Seifer Almasy, the real gunblade specialist, first class."

They'd barely finished their introductions when the vessel jerked beneath their feet. Squall quickly took a seat with the other five cadets and Quistis. Xu remained standing; she maintained her balance even as the ship picked up speed. She ambled her way around the commode to the monitor, plucking a small remote control from her breast pocket. As she clicked it, a digital rendering of the world map flashed on screen. It displayed their position to the south west of Balamb, and the upward arcing trajectory they would take to their destination. They were en route to the upper eastern-most shore of the neighboring Galbadian continent. Even without a label to indicate it, Squall could tell exactly where they were heading.

"I will now explain the situation and mission objective," Xu announced. "Our client for this mission is the Dollet Dukedom parliament. Seventy-two hours ago, the city came under attack by Galbadia's naval fleet. The casualty figures are reportedly staggering. Forty-nine hours into the battle, the Dollet infantry were forced to abandon their position in the inner city, and retreated into the western Hasberry mountain range. The parliament has been evacuated, along with most of the surviving civilians. They are currently en route to an extraction point further along the coast.

"As of our last contact, the Galbadian forces have begun advancing into the mountains to mop up the remaining troops. This will give us an opening for a pincer attack. While Galbadia continues their advance, we will make our landing at Lapin Beach, and eliminate the forces still in the city. Once it has been liberated, you will be on standby until further notice. The SeeD operatives will intercept any enemy forces attempting to make their way back into the city. Questions?"

"Sounds like we're using the Dollet soldiers as bait," Zell said.

"That's what they get for turning tail as soon as things got rough," Seifer smarmed. "So, what are we supposed to do?"

"Squad 19 will be charged with securing the Aurora Square to the west end of the city. Squad 20, your objective is to find the communication cable lines the Galbadians are using, and shut them down."

"Yes, ma'am," Aaron replied.

"Wow, sounds important," Zell hummed.

"Sounds boring," Seifer corrected him. "Figures we get the grunt work while the SeeDs have all the fun up in the mountains."

"I don't see what's so 'fun' about it," the boy named Nida spoke up. "We might not be on the front lines, but that doesn't mean our own jobs aren't important. Don't brush it off just because it's not what you wanted."

"Speak for yourself, kid. And never tell me what to do."

Squall winced. Though he understood little of the grading scale used for the exam, Seifer's score must have already dipped to precarious levels.

"Break it up, you two!" Xu snapped. "Like it or not, these are your assignments. Deal with it. Also, it hardly needs to be said, but the withdrawal order takes priority. A designated messenger from another squad in your region will arrive to tell you when. And it will be in Dollet standard time, not Balamb; make sure you set your watches back. We have about 4 hours until we arrive. We anticipate combat as soon as we make landfall, so make your preparations now. That is all."

The commandant maneuvered through the aisle to the fore of the cabin. She exited through the door to the bow, leaving the remaining seven to their own devices.

"Well, this is it," Quistis sighed. "It might be an exam in name, but don't forget this is a real battle. Focus will be paramount to make it through. So, if any of you have something you need to get off your chests, now's the time."

No one spoke. All was silent save for the engine's omnipresent humming. Squall was ready; should he fall in battle this day, it would be deserved for not having trained hard enough. He had no worldly attachments, no family to mourn his passing, and no regrets to hold him back. His mind was perfectly set in order. And then, he remembered.

"Quis- … Instructor," he stumbled. "When I came to this morning… there was a girl in the infirmary, wearing a shawl around her. She left right before you came in. Do you know who she was?"

Quistis brought her hand up to her chin, and furrowed her eyebrows.

"I don't think there was anyone else there this morning… or at least I didn't see anyone. Why? Is there something wrong?"

Squall bowed his head. Perhaps it had been a figment of his imagination, after all; he'd been plenty disoriented upon awakening. But then, Dr. Kadowaki had mentioned letting his 'friend' in to see him. Squall had no friends as far as he was aware. In any case, it wasn't worth getting hung up on, least of all with the battle ahead.

"No… it's nothing."

"This is just perfect," Seifer cackled. "I've got the chicken-wuss and a guy who just hit puberty in my squad."

Squall kept his head down; there was no need for him to see the looks on the others' faces. He could perfectly picture Zell's fury, Quistis' disappointment, and the confusion or even amusement shared between Squad 20. What he couldn't imagine was there being another more dysfunctional squad registered for the exam.

"Anyway, it's a little cramped in here, and I'd say we need a lookout up top. Squall, climb up to the turret and keep watch."

He finally glanced up to his rival's sneering, scarred face.

"The commandant said we won't be there for 4 hours," he tried to reason with him. "Why do we need a lookout right now?"

"This is an order from your captain, Squall. Now, do as you're told!"

Squall's gaze flitted from his squad leader to Zell, Quistis, the accompanying group, and back; they all knew it was blatant hazing as well as he did. Even so, he couldn't afford to show disobedience from the outset. He would have to play by the rules to receive a passing evaluation.

"Understood."

He rose to his feet, and navigated around Zell's legs towards the front. He was stopped in his tracks as Seifer kicked his foot up on the commode, blocking his path.

"Is that how you address your superior, soldier?"

"Understood, sir," he rephrased through gritted teeth.

"Now, that's more like it. Know your place, scrub."

This is going to be the longest exam of my life…

The Holy Dollet Empire had risen more than 4000 years ago. Settled by a group of Centran expatriates, from its humble beginnings had blossomed a major world power to rival their homeland. The new regime conquered the full lay of the western continent, ushering its people together under one flag. Following a period of political strife and separatist revolt however, the nation eventually fragmented. A long civil war between smaller nation states ensued. And so, the once unified empire became a land divided, the remaining loyalist territory reduced to a mere dukedom.

Twenty-one years before present day, the state of Galbadia granted president Vinzer Deling an indefinite term extension. On the cusp of a long and bloody war with the eastern world power of Esthar, he'd decreed the scattered territories be reunified under a single banner, by force if necessary. Galbadia's conquest swept across the land, swallowing nearly all of the continent. The last remnant of Dollet's legacy, the seaside former capital city which still bore its name, was now all that remained. Its geographical location was the factor which had allowed it to hold out for so long; the Hasberry mountains to the west blocked off its connection to the rest of the continent. Likewise, the ongoing wireless communications interference made the use of aircraft impractical, leaving the sea as the only feasible manner by which to deploy an army.

The city rapidly came into view as they approached, as did the enemy ships left on the shore. Their method of engagement was clear: a full-frontal rush up the beach and into the city proper. They'd send the Galbadian infantry scrambling to regroup, opening the way for their counter offensive. Squall manned the turret, scanning the coast through the holographic windshield. Seconds passed as minutes. Adrenaline fired through his veins; his first true battle had arrived. He took aim. As the first shots from the surrounding assault boats roared across the waves, he pulled the triggers.

The shaking and rattling was tremendous, and might have proven too much for a less experienced soldier. It was no issue for Squall; his gunblade's trigger function necessitated he compensate for recoil with each strike. The anti-artillery rounds sheared clean through the hulls of the beached vessels. Several burst into smoldering pyres of flame and shrapnel, brilliant under the sinking afternoon sun. Dozens of helmeted soldiers dispersed across the ridge overlooking the beach. Most were gunned down just as quickly by the front ships.

Squall's boat slowed as it drew near, until the underside finally hit solid ground. He grabbed hold of the circular safety railing to steady himself as it slid to a stop. A loud mechanical hiss sounded from the front. He peered over to see the deployment bay doors open. The members and advisers of Squads 19 and 20 spilled out onto the sand, just as dozens of others already had up and down the shore.

Firearms and spellcraft blazed as they charged up the incline to the city. Other cadets remained on their turrets, mowing down soldier after soldier on the ridge to clear the way. Squall had never relished the thought of taking human lives in the line of duty. Nevertheless, it was inevitable; the Galbadians would offer him no such mercy in return.

"C'mon, Squall!" Zell called to him. "Let's get a move on!"

He hoisted himself over the railing, and slid down the ship's hull. He hit the sand with a thud beside Seifer. Quistis and Zell stood opposite. Commandant Xu and her squad were already long gone.

"We're to secure the Aurora Square at once!" Quistis shouted over the roar of gunfire. "I'll provide support until we arrive, but I'm leaving the brunt of the fighting up to you three! This is your chance to show what you're made of!"

"Best news I've heard all day!" Seifer boasted. He drew his gunblade from his coat, bringing it to a halt pointed upward in front of his face.

Seifer's ebony 'Hyperion' model gunblade was of a lighter, sleeker design than Squall's revolver variant. Its hilt resembled a semi-automatic pistol, utilizing standard ammunition cartridges for reloading. Its compact design sacrificed striking power for speed and ease of use. As opposed to Squall's hefty blade, Seifer had no difficulty wielding the weapon with one hand.

"Forward!" he commanded.

Squall, Zell, and Quistis hurried after him, the SeeD having finally drawn her signature metallic whip. Her prowess with the weapon bordered on legend among the student body. Squall had witnessed it firsthand since she'd become his instructor; he could attest it was indeed a beautiful display of ferocity and grace intertwined.

They ascended the nearby stone stairway carved into the incline. It rose to meet a grand brick archway leading down a desecrated stretch of road. Small craters peppered the cobbled pavement. Bodies of soldiers and citizens littered the street-sides. Acrid dust and smog wafted on the air, overpowering the beach's salty aroma. The constant clatter of gunfire and explosions came from every direction, as cadets and soldiers exchanged fire from behind ruined buildings and vehicles.

Squall and his entourage dipped behind a fallen column for cover. He reached down to the sphere clipped to his belt and activated it. The two halves parted ever so slightly to allow the power within free reign. He focused his mind, willing the energy to materialize around his body. A translucent protective barrier flashed before him, fading from sight just as quickly. He was ready. He drew his gunblade as he rounded the debris, stepping into the line of fire. He didn't slow even as the bullets came whizzing towards him; his magical barrier shimmered back into being as they harmlessly pinged off. He was untouchable.

Referring to it as a shield was technically inaccurate; it was a veil of energy with no corporeal presence. The more he channeled into it, the greater the volume of physical matter it could repel. To deflect something the size of a bullet required a small amount; velocity and kinetic energy did not apply. On the flip-side, it worked both ways; were a cadet rifleman to conjure one, it would prevent their own bullets from escaping its radius. It was for this very reason most SeeDs trained with close range weapons such as swords or staves, arms of sufficient mass to pass through the veil. Summoning a reflective barrier to guard against spellcraft worked much the same way, though served no practical application in the field; theirs was a power not shared by any other army in the world.

He reached the enemy line in seconds, and brought his gunblade down on the nearest soldier with a well timed pull of the trigger. The armored grunt toppled over, nearly cleaved in two. It was done; he'd achieved his first confirmed kill. He immediately turned his attention to the next before the emotional response could take root. There would be ample time to reflect on his actions once the battle had been won.

His two squadmates fell in after him. Beyond his own protective barrier, Zell's fists were encased in conjured stone gauntlets. With each thundering blow, another soldier's body flew across the expanse. Seifer sliced his way forward in rapid succession, deftly maneuvering his way between each new adversary. He stayed on the move, expertly evading what gunfire came his way. He'd deliberately chosen not to erect his own barrier. Any other cadet would have deemed it suicidal, and yet Seifer's fighting prowess made the handicap seem nonexistent.

The battle raged on in the company of several additional squads. Spellcraft of nearly every element soared through the air; brick and mortar rained down from the buildings on either side of the road with each impact. The dust clouding the battlefield gradually thickened, turning to a black smog. Absorbed in the slaughter as he was, it wasn't until the Galbadian infantry pulled back that Squall understood.

He squinted through the intensifying haze. A cluster of smoke grenades lay scattered about the street. The darkness condensed by the second; before long, he could barely make out his own hand in front of his face. It was quickly blown away by a powerful gust of wind from behind. Squall stumbled as he thrust his gunblade into a crevice in the ground. He gripped it tightly to steady his footing until the gale died down.

"We've got 'em on the run!" someone yelled. A resounding cheer answered him.

"Keep pushing forward!" another shouted.

Several fellow squads heeded the call, racing up the street. Others scurried down the branching alleyways to either side.

"Hey, all you Galbadian cowards!" Seifer roared as he charged ahead. "Come out and show your faces! Don't leave me hanging now!"

"What an idiot," Zell quipped.

"At least he's got the fighting spirit," Quistis chimed in from behind. "Let's keep moving. The Aurora Square shouldn't be too much further ahead."

The three tailed their brash squad captain through the maze of winding, demolished streets, sidestepping and surmounting all manner of wreckage and bodies in their path. An increasing amount of green-clad Dollet soldiers lay awkwardly among the overturned cars and streetlamps; it must have been a grueling battle fought over the last several days. The city's tragic fate was not lost on Squall, nor the grief of the surviving townspeople. Nevertheless, his duty to defend them extended only so far as the contract deigned so. It was not his place to question the mission's validity or moral righteousness. Had Galbadia been the faction to hire SeeD, he would have followed his orders all the same. A mercenary took no sides, save for the one which provided him payment.

Their overeager captain came back into view at last; he rested with his back propped up to the side of another arched entryway. Squall hugged the wall as he approached, peering ahead into the circular plaza on the other side. A fountain sculpted in the image of a woman stood in the center. A platoon of four troopers stood guard by its side, their attention presently drawn to the hotel and restaurant on the perimeter's opposite end.

"Allow me," Zell volunteered.

He drew back his right arm, and slammed his studded knuckles into the ground. A miniature fault line formed from the spot he'd struck. The crevice sunk deeper into the pavement, tearing the terrain asunder as it sped towards the soldiers. Their heads swiveled at the approaching rumble. They cried out as it roared beneath their feet. A sudden upsurge of energy erupted from the tremor, sending them airborne. They soared through the air, plummeting back down atop the overturned tables and chairs outside the abandoned restaurant.

"Leave some for the rest of us, why don't you?" Seifer huffed.

"Excellent control of the energy, Zell," Quistis praised him. "I was worried you were going to destroy the fountain for a moment. That took skill."

"Aw, it's nothin', Instructor," he bashfully accepted the compliment.

Squall paid them no mind. He raced into the plaza, bolting for the downed soldiers. All four appeared to be unconscious, though still breathing. While the battle was far from over - gunfire and explosions continued to echo from afar - his squad had secured their objective with relative ease.

"Guess I'll do the honors," Seifer announced.

He raised his gunblade above the nearest soldier's head. Squall thrust his own forward to block the strike in mid-swing. The familiar clash of steel rang out as the two swords met.

"Hold it," he said. "We might be able to get information out of them when they wake up. Maybe get a better picture of their battle plan."

"I thought I told you to know your place," Seifer snarled. He continued putting weight on his gunblade, pushing Squall's down.

"And I should think any good captain would consider what his squadmates have to say."

The two turned their attention to Quistis. She stared Seifer down, her brow furrowed with disapproval just as when they'd been children.

"I'm not going to tell you how to lead your team, but know this attitude of yours isn't going to reflect well on your final grade."

The tension mounted as Squall continued to fight back against the Hyperion's pressure. Finally, Seifer lifted the blade with a grunt.

"Tie them up."

Squall sheathed his blade, and assisted Zell as commanded. They grouped the unconscious soldiers together with their backs pressed up against one another in a circle. Squall double checked them to make sure no weapons were unaccounted for, while Zell procured a cable from his supply pouch. They bound the four together tightly.

"Well, this is where I leave you three," Quistis told them. "I'm off to join the rest of the SeeD detachment in the mountains. You're on standby here until the withdrawal order comes."

"Yes, ma'am," Zell saluted.

Squall mimicked him. Seifer made no effort to stand on formality; he returned his gunblade to his coat as their instructor took off down the adjoining street.

"Standby," he moaned, kicking the gravel produced by the tremor aside. "How boring…"

More than an hour had passed since Squad 19 secured the Aurora Square. The surrounding buildings cast looming shadows in the afternoon sun. Seifer sat quietly on the edge of the trickling fountain. Zell, seemingly desperate for something to keep himself occupied, had used his GF to conjure a set of small earthen balls. He juggled them beside the restaurant, where the four Galbadian soldiers remained tied up. None had awoken thus far, nor had there been any sign of inbound reinforcements.

Squall stood with his back against the archway they'd entered through, polishing his gunblade. All was silent, save for the occasional burst of gunfire from the mountains. The battle seemed to be winding down in less time than he'd expected. It almost disappointed him on some level; he'd spent years training for this very day, only for the confrontation to draw to a standstill so abruptly. His thoughts were undeniably petty. Despite his better judgment however, he couldn't shake the feeling in his gut.

At least I should pass without any issues…

"Dammit!"

Squall looked to Zell. The juggling balls both in his hands and mid-air simultaneously crumbled, dissipating into the ether with a shimmer.

"I can never sustain 'em for more than a couple minutes!"

"You shouldn't be using it as a toy," Squall chastised him.

"You shouldn't be using it at all," Seifer corrected. "Not if you have any self-respect. A real man relies on his own strength."

"Unless he fancies himself a pickpocket," Squall shot back. He irritably slid his gunblade back into its sheath with a loud metallic clink.

"You're still hung up on that? That was just a lesson you needed to learn. You'll thank me for it when the time comes."

"I don't get you, Seifer," Zell said. "You went through certification to get one, and you won't use it? That makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense. If you ever stopped to think about it."

Seifer reached into his jacket pocket, and withdrew his own silver sphere. It gleamed in the sunlight as he held it outstretched to them.

Guardian Forces were a powerful energy force contained within spheres of a special alloy casing. The switches on the top and bottom, once depressed, served to part it by half an inch, allowing a safe amount of the energy to seep out and intermingle with any living bring in its immediate area. With proper mental and physiological training, one could harness it to perform what could only be described as 'magic' of various elements and styles. Advanced wielders could even materialize it as a fully functioning apparition to command in battle. The focus and stamina required for a summoning usually resulted in extreme exhaustion, to speak nothing of the devastation which could be wrought by the creature. As such, it was only to be performed in the most dire of circumstances.

The energy's true nature was a staunchly kept secret, as was the manufacturing process of the spheres. Each bore the black and white SeeD insignia on its shell, a symbol of Balamb Garden's monopoly over the technology. Cadets were first eligible to take the certification test at 14. As with the field exam, Balamb was the only one of the three schools to offer training with GFs. This left transfer students from Galbadia and Trabia Gardens at a disadvantage from the outset. Although each were given their own upon enrollment, learning how to call upon its power took considerable time and effort. Hence, Squall's incredulity at the ditzy girl from Trabia who'd signed up for the exam already. Only one so experienced as Seifer could afford to be so reckless. His eyes darted between Squall and Zell before offering an explanation.

"These things might give you all the power you could ever want, but at the end of the day, it's not yours. It's power we've been given the privilege of wielding, and told to depend on like a crutch to fight our battles for us. And like any privilege, it can be taken away at any time if the higher-ups want to put the screws to you. And what are you left with then?"

He let the question hang in the air for several uncomfortable moments. Satisfied, he slipped the sphere back into his pocket.

"Relying on charity to fight your battles will only get you so far, especially when that power can be revoked just as easily. The only thing in this world you can depend on is your own skill as a fighter. That's something no one can take away from you."

He shifted his gaze back to Squall; those piercing blue eyes seemed to probe the depths of his soul.

"You of all people should understand that. If being able to stand on your own two feet is what you really want."

Squall had no response. He clutched at the sphere clipped to his belt in frustration. He'd never felt shame in relying on its power; it was just another weapon in his arsenal, much like his gunblade.

"Fine, have it your way," Zell threw up his arms. "Still, seems like a real waste to me. It's like we've all got the sorceress' power right at our fingertips."

"You do know those are just old legends," Squall scoffed; he had little patience to entertain fairy tales in his learned age.

"Maybe, but… well, these things are made in Esthar, right? And you know how that place got its reputation."

"Right. And if Odine Industries had just started producing these back then, who's to say she couldn't have gotten her hands on the first one ever made? She was a noble. She would've had the right connections. It's the perfect con, and the perfect way to strike fear into superstitious people the world over."

Zell opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shrunk back just as abruptly.

"It's what makes sense," Squall doubled down. "I don't have a clue how these things work, but as far as those legends go, I'm positive they're just that."

"Will you two shut it, already?!" Seifer growled. He leapt to his feet and thrust his gunblade to the sky in agitation.

"I'm so sick of waiting around here! Give me some action!"

A weary moan answered his roar. Squall spun his head in its direction. By Zell's side, one of the four bound soldiers had been roused from his slumber. His head slowly bobbed as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. Squall shot from the wall, just as Seifer from the fountain. Zell crouched down and gripped the soldier's helmet, holding his head in place for interrogation.

"Keep quiet and do as we say," Squall ordered.

"What he said," Zell reiterated. "Screaming won't do you any good. No one's coming to save you."

The soldier stayed silent. His helmet's silver plated visor kept his eyes hidden, leaving only his mouth and the lower half of his nose visible.

"Of course, no one's coming," he said in a hoarse voice. "They've got more important things to take care of."

"Like what?" Seifer asked, disengaging the safety on his gunblade. "Go on, your secret's safe with us. I promise."

Squall knelt down beside the captive soldier, staring him directly where his eyes would be.

"Tell us. And I suggest you be quick about it. He's got a shorter fuse than I do."

"Taking control of the city was never the real objective," he confessed. "Just a means to push through and secure the tower."

"The 'tower'?"

"You mean the old communications tower up in the mountains?" Zell asked.

"That's the one. We were assigned to hold the town while the major and his men made their way up."

"Why go to so much trouble for outdated tech?"

Squall wondered the same; radio wave broadcasts hadn't been in use for 17 years.

"Hell if I know. But supposedly those orders came down from Deling himself. He wants that tower up and running ASAP. That's all I've got."

"Your candor is appreciated," Seifer sneered. "And for that, you deserve a nice long rest."

Zell barely managed to pull his hand away before he brought his elbow down on the soldier's head. A gag escaped his mouth as his neck violently jerked down; he'd been lucky it hadn't snapped from the sudden blow.

"D'ya think he was telling the truth?" Zell pondered.

"It would explain why there haven't been any reinforcements," Squall said. "It doesn't make sense why they'd be after that tower, though."

"Who cares?!" Seifer barked. "We've got a new objective. Let's move out!"

"Are you nuts?!" Zell reeled. "Instructor Trepe told us to stay here and protect the square! Do you want to fail?!"

"You heard him, no one's coming. We're wasting our time here, when we could be up there putting a stop to their real mission! Besides, I've been getting restless just sitting around. Got to keep my skills sharpened."

"But…"

He paused, instead turning his anxious gaze to Squall.

"C'mon, back me up here!"

Squall cast his eyes down. Abandoning their post would constitute a breach of conduct, and no doubt earn him a failing mark regardless of his performance thus far. It was completely irresponsible. And yet, having learned the enemy's objective and failing to act on it seemed even more so. Seifer had a point, much as he hated to admit it; they could potentially do more service to the mission in disobedience. Furthermore, he too had become restless.

"I stand by the captain's decision," he finally said.

"Captain's decision?"

Seifer's head shot up. He crossed over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him playfully.

"Oh, I see. You're looking to wreak some havoc too, aren't you?"

Squall swatted his hand away, shooting him the most intimidating scowl he could muster.

"You have a point," he growled. "And besides, it's a good opportunity to test my skills. Thanks to you, I feel like I can take on anyone, even if they do fight dirty, like you."

Their silent stare down dragged on for what seemed like ages. Neither broke eye contact until the group's self-appointed voice of reason stepped between them.

"Alright, cool it, guys!" Zell said. "You're forgetting this is an exam, and a really important one. I'm telling you both, we have to stick to orders!"

"Then you stay here and babysit!" Seifer roared. "To the summit!"

He turned with a whip of his grey coat. Squall followed, the opportunity he'd trained half his life for shrinking into the distance behind him with each step.

I guess I'll try again next year…

"Hey!" Zell shouted after them. "You guys can't be serious! Will you just… dammit, wait for me!"

Chapter Text

Squad 19 continued their long hike up the mountain range in silence. They kept low to the ground, using the plentiful overgrowth and rock formations to their advantage. Their trek from the Aurora Square had gone well enough; no enemy platoons nor fellow cadet squadrons had impeded their way, their only hindrance being the increasingly ravaged streets. After ten minutes, they'd come to a stone bridge arching over a raging waterway. It was one of roughly a dozen extending from the city to the mountains. Bodies of Dollet and Galbadian soldiers lay strewn about, with large chunks of stone upended from the architecture. The three had steadily slunk across, and started up on the other side.

The rough, uneven terrain beneath Squall's feet slowed their climb to a drudging pace. An easier alternative did exist: rock stairs carved into the mountains branched off all across the range. They'd forgone the clearly defined trail in exchange for additional cover. Every bit would be of use in maintaining their element of surprise. Whether by Galbadia or SeeD, they couldn't afford to be discovered before reaching the top.

They surmounted boulders. They sliced their way through tangled weeds. They stumbled and fell to their knees over and over as they fought against the upward incline. It took Squall's breath away; even the most intensive cardio exercises at the Garden couldn't compare. More than once he considered returning to their post, that he might salvage his chance of passing the exam.

We're more than halfway up, and I'm thinking of going all the way back down?

Begrudgingly, he continued the climb. What little attention he could afford to spare fell to pondering Galbadia's motive; what need was there to waste so much manpower on capturing an obsolete facility? With the abrupt end of the so-called Sorceress War 17 years prior, a strange radio interference had swept across the airwaves. White noise plagued every frequency, rendering wireless communication nearly impossible overnight; burst transmission across short distances remained viable, albeit with significantly garbled output. Thus began a long transitional period in the realm of communications technology. Over the years, the world's nations worked to develop an effective alternative: an underground network of hyper-digital cables running from point to point on a global scale. With the network still in its infancy, many parts of the world still had no means of communication besides old-fashioned mail delivery.

The thicket of high grass thinned as they neared the peak. A small assortment of rocks were now all that stood in their way. The rusted synthetic tower already loomed high above them, gleaming in the setting sun. Gunfire still sporadically erupted from the neighboring bluffs; Galbadia's forces had done all they could to lure SeeD further along the mountain range, away from the facility, inadvertently opening the way for Squad 19's advance.

Squall finally reached the top to stand beside Seifer. A precarious drop led down to the trail below, itself on a precipice overlooking the communications tower entrance. The decimated corpses of at least a dozen Dollet soldiers littered the terrain. Their bodies were unnaturally contorted, strewn about without regard. The odd Galbadian casualty lay among the mass grave, numbering less than a quarter total.

"Geez!" Zell moaned, bringing up the rear. "If I ever have to climb over one more friggin' boulder, I'm gonna-"

He cut himself short as he reached their side and looked down.

"Uh… never mind."

"The coast looks clear," Squall observed. "Strange there's no guards."

"They're probably further back down the trail," Zell said. "Pretty sure I saw a couple on the way up. There's bound to be more inside."

"Then let's move in," Seifer commanded. He crouched down and slipped his legs over the cliff face.

"Man, why'd I have to use my cable to tie those guys up?"

Squall followed, carefully searching for a foothold. He'd made regular use of the rock climbing wall in the Garden's physical fitness center over the years. This should have been no more daunting, and yet the absence of a safety harness still unnerved him. Fortunately, he'd spent the last several months practicing a method of GF control to break his fall.

He touched down on the desecrated trail. The soldiers' dried blood stained the surrounding rocks a dark crimson. A rotting scent had mustered amid the slaughter; the bodies must have been lying there for at least half a day already. Now up close, it was clear the platoon had been disposed of by far more gruesome means than a firefight. The scattered corpses looked as if they'd been ravaged by a rampaging beast, several missing whole limbs. Massive wedge-shaped divots sunk into the trail, resembling footprints unlike any Squall had ever seen.

"This looks too brutal to be the work of soldiers," he commented.

"We're pretty high up," Seifer said. "Who knows what kind of wildlife lives in these mountains?"

It took all the fortitude Squall had to maintain his composure. He'd thought himself prepared to face the horrors of war head on. He'd assured himself countless times that each casualty was only a statistic, to be noted and never dwelled upon. Now steeped in the midst of so much death however, he understood there was nothing that could have truly prepared him.

"Scared?"

He turned his eyes to Seifer. Surprisingly, the quip had been devoid of his usual cocky inflection.

"I don't know," he murmured. "I'm trying not to think about it."

"That's only gonna make it worse. First time's always the hardest. But after a while, you'll learn to like it."

"I wonder. I don't take any pleasure in what we do. It's just business."

"Heh, I could've guessed you'd say that."

Seifer drew his gunblade from his coat. His eyes turned to the tower's platformed apex high above.

"I love battles. The scent of scorched earth, the roaring gunfire, the sheer visceral energy between you and your enemy as you strike him down… I live for that shit."

He thrust his weapon skyward, pointed straight for the top of the tower.

"Way I see it, as long as you make it out alive, you're one step closer to your dream."

"Your dream?" Squall repeated.

"Yeah, your life's calling. What you really want to make of yourself. And I'm not just talking joining SeeD and being a hired gun, but what comes after all that. Who you want to be remembered as after you're gone. You've got one, too, right?"

Squall furrowed his brow. He'd based his entire life around a single goal for as long as he could remember: to acquire the skills and know-how to look after himself. In pursuit of that goal, he'd made it his mission to become a SeeD. Today's field exam was to be the last remaining obstacle standing in his way. And yet, he'd become so single-mindedly focused on that one ambition, that he'd never actually given much thought to the future at all.

As a student of Balamb Garden, his life thus far had been planned out for him: finish basic education, become a cadet, train and refine his skills for years, and at the end of it all, become a fully-fledged SeeD. Whatever came after that would fall to him, and he had nothing to go off of. He'd already soiled his chances of passing on this day, giving him at least one more year of familiar routine to fall back on before taking the big step. And yet, there was a strange comfort to be found in acceptance of his failure. There was a reassuring predictability to his life as an undergraduate. Slowly but surely, those days were drawing to a close. What would fate hold for him once he did pass the exam? Or worse still, he never did and was unceremoniously dismissed from the Garden?

Am I afraid?

He had no real dream to speak of. He would serve as a member of the mercenary army, carrying out missions as they came until… what? Who else could he possibly be? What else could he possibly do but fight and take orders? He'd deserted his post for the sake of furthering the mission, or so he'd convinced himself. Was it possible he'd been subconsciously sabotaging himself the entire time, for fear of taking that next step to adulthood?

"I…"

His mind swirled out of control; the implications were piling on faster than he could process them. It was too much to consider at once, and not the appropriate time besides. He breathed deeply, disguising it as an exasperated sigh.

"Sorry, but I'm going to have to pass on that one."

"Pass on what?" Zell asked, having joined them at the bottom of the cliff side.

"None of your business, chicken-wuss," Seifer derided him. He turned before Zell could respond, making his way down the curving trail to the tower's base.

"Up yours!"

"Will you keep quiet?" Squall hushed him. "Do you want to blow our cover before we get inside?"

"Ah… sorry. He just pisses me off so damn much sometimes… well, all the time."

"You and everyone else."

"I know, but… it's like a really fierce kind of pissed off. Like a gut reaction that happens on its own."

Squall could relate; years on end spent around such a negative influence were bound to program such a reflex. Even for him, maintaining a calm disposition around Seifer was taxing.

"Hey, you two!"

The voice came from up on the ridge they'd descended. Squall spun back around with Zell. A petite girl in a Balamb cadet uniform stood atop the incline, bent forward, and visibly panting in exhaustion.

"I… I finally… caught up…"

We were being followed the whole time?

The girl carefully lowered herself over the edge. As her left foot slipped off a section of the rock, she lost her grip, and plummeted down with a yelp.

"Oh, shit!" Zell swore as he raced forward to catch her.

Squall stayed fixed to the spot. To his befuddlement, the girl seemed to slow dramatically less than a second before her legs met the ground. Her knees hit with a far more graceful thud than should have been possible. It had all happened so quickly, Squall wondered if it might have been a trick of the fast fading daylight. The large red and gold nunchaku strapped to her back were another matter, however; there was no mistaking those.

"Are you alright?!" Zell gasped as he reached her side.

He frantically fumbled about his belt for his medical supplies. Before he could retrieve them, the girl stuck her tongue out with a wink.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" she giggled. "I've taken a lot worse tumbles than that."

She climbed to her feet without any fuss. Her knees showed no trace of bruising nor skinning. She wiped away what little dirt and gravel clung to them before bringing her head up to look around.

"Ugh!" she winced in disgust at the surrounding massacre. "Gross! I did not need to see-"

She cut herself off as her eyes met Squall's.

"Hey! You're the guy who showed me to the ballroom! 'Squall', was it? Didn't think I'd run into you again so soon!"

"Likewise," he cursed his luck. Of every possible student to have discovered their desertion, she was the last he would have ever expected. Or wanted.

"Sorry… I'm not the best with names."

"It's alright," she smiled, breaking into a salute. "Squad 53, Selphie Tilmitt, CQC and party-lover, first class!"

What a title.

"Zell Dincht, CQC and tech specialist, first class!" Zell extended his hand. "I think we're gonna get along just fine."

Sadly, so do I.

"You know, you guys are a real pain to get a hold of!" she moaned as she released the handshake. "I was sent to deliver a message to you at the Aurora Square, but by the time I got there, you'd already taken off. I tailed you all the way up here."

"What kind of message?" Squall asked. A knot formed in his stomach.

"Withdrawal orders. And at this rate, we're gonna have to hurry!"

"Withdraw?" Zell repeated. "Already? The battle's still going on up here!"

"Hey, I'm just a messenger!" Selphie waved her hands. "But anyway, where's your squad captain? 'Seifer', I think his name was?"

Squall turned back to the tower's base further down the incline. Right on cue, their leader strode up to the large double doors. Squall didn't dare call out to him from such a distance, lest he risk alerting every guard inside. As soon as Seifer turned back around and pointed his gunblade up to him, he realized he needn't have bothered.

"Someday, I'm gonna tell you about my romantic dream!"

He swiveled back around, hoisted open one of the doors, and rushed through. Squall brought his palm up to his face; he couldn't even feign surprise anymore.

"I've said it before, I'll say it again," Zell sighed. "What. An. Idiot."

"Man, this is way more than I signed up for," Selphie groaned.

She broke into a sprint for the edge of the drop, maneuvering around the bodies littering the trail, and leapt. Once again, there came the mirage-like deceleration right before her feet touched down. An ordinary person would have chalked it up to superb acrobatic ability, or passed it off as their eyes playing tricks on them, as Squall had. He knew better now. He understood the technique she was utilizing, and yet by all accounts it shouldn't have been possible for her.

"Come on!" she called to them. "What are you waiting for?"

'Leap-before-you-look' type, indeed.

"I'm taking the path," he told Zell. "You?"

"Do I look like a moron?"

Squall let the question hang in the air. He started down the winding trail at a brisk jog, taking care not to trip over scattered debris and rocks. It too was laden with the corpses of Dollet and Galbadian soldiers, paving a trail of bloodshed onward to the tower. They reached the base in about 30 seconds.

"It would've been a lot quicker if you'd just jumped!" Selphie insisted.

"It always pays to be mindful of your surroundings," Squall countered. "Especially when we're going to be taking that trail back."

"Whatever. Let's just head in, find him, and get out of here. Like I said, we don't have a whole lot of time left."

Squall followed her through the open entrance into the tower's nexus. The dark circular interior was dimly lit by a ring of emergency lights ingrained into the corroded metal floor. Powered-on computer terminals lined the walls; some displayed lines of code, others static. As his eyes gradually adjusted, he could make out the silhouettes of several incapacitated soldiers, either slumped in their chairs by the workstations, or sprawled out on the ground. Seifer hadn't wasted any time. A wide grated shaft took up the center of the control hub, stretching up into the pitch black abyss. A large metal capsule was contained within. Another pair of hulking metal doors stood at the rear of the room, presumably leading further into the facility.

"Wow, he really cleaned house," Selphie admired Seifer's work.

"It's what he does best," Squall said. "That, and make life difficult for the rest of us."

"Where'd he go?" Zell wondered.

Squall's eyes flitted to a control panel next to the grating. A set of vertical rails ran straight up from a rectangular indent in the floor beside it, where the corresponding lift should have been.

"Up?"

"Makes sense," Selphie agreed.

"Well, let's give it a look," Zell said as he stepped forward and pressed the down button.

It was close to a minute before the loading platform came into view against the tower's dark upper recesses. It descended into place beside the panel with a thunk. Squall and Selphie followed Zell aboard, and with another button press, the lift jerked back to life. Its pace was agonizingly slow; the platform had clearly been designed for heavy lifting rather than speed.

"Before," Squall said to Zell. "When we wrung the plan out of the guard, you sounded like you knew this place."

"I've read up about it a little," Zell said, ruffling his hair. "It's pretty old tech. Dates back about 50 years, or so. Still, it was in regular use around these parts right up until the interference started. I've always wanted to come take a look at it sometime, see what I could learn. Sucks we're on a time crunch and all."

"I just want to know why the army's after it. You think they've come up with a fix for the interference?"

"Doubt it. We'd have definitely heard something. It'd be international news."

"Uh, guys… I'm a little lost here," Selphie interjected.

"It's a long story," Zell told her. "We don't really get it at this point, either. All we know is apparently Galbadia's whole reason for attacking Dollet was to seize this tower."

"Seriously?!"

"Keep it down," Squall shushed her. "I think I hear voices."

Darkness gave way to fast approaching twilight as the lift neared the top. A conversation gradually came into earshot over the motorized din.

"… agreement we will begin pulling out our forces, on the condition it remains active."

"If I can get it active! Why the hell am I the one stuck doing this?"

"I'm sorry, Major Biggs, but perhaps if we hadn't brought the Black Widow along, we'd have more men left on ha-"

"Oh, will you just shut it, Wedge! I get it. We should've left the damn thing back on the beach. Now stop bringing it up!"

The lift finally stopped on the wide circular expanse which ringed the tower's top. A grated metal platform branched off from the central shaft. Three stout satellite dishes were spaced evenly apart from each other around the circumference. Two Galbadian soldiers crouched beside one on the opposite side from Squall and his team. One wore the standard navy blue with silver plating, the other crimson, with his arms fully encased by the same metal alloy.

Squall silently motioned for his comrades to keep low. The three dropped into a crouch, circling around the left side of the shaft. Selphie preemptively drew her nunchaku, smothering its chain to muffle any jangling. Squall moved his hand to the hilt of his sheathed gunblade.

"Damn you, Caraway," the major swore as he fumbled with the dish's circuits. "That old codger's had it out for me ever since I got this promotion!"

"I wouldn't think that, sir," the grunt tried to reason with him. "He wouldn't give you such an important assignment if he didn't believe you could get it done, would he?"

"Still, this is way beneath my pay-grade! Geez, what's with these crappy old tools? Let's see… this one goes here… and that goes there…"

The threesome crept closer along the side of the shaft. Squall slowly unsheathed his gunblade, careful to make as little noise as possible.

Just a little closer…

"That goes with this, and… I think that's it!"

Squall froze as Biggs rose to his feet and pressed a series of buttons on the satellite. It audibly powered on with its two siblings. And then, the platform began to rumble. Squall spread his legs out to better balance himself as the tremor became more intense. Zell and Selphie gripped the metal grating below to keep steady; the Galbadians likewise clung for dear life to the side of the communication array. A roar drew near from the depths of the facility. Squall shifted his eyes to the central shaft. A gargantuan metal pillar shot out from below at tremendous speed, coming to an abrupt stop high above them. He craned his neck up, squinting against the afternoon sun's reflection on its shell. The capsule from the center of the control hub sat at the top.

With a pressurized hiss, the pillar twisted counter-clockwise. The capsule dipped down to form a 45 degree angle, now resembling a cannon pointed due east. Its casing slowly parted outward like a blossoming flower, separated into three evenly spaced fragments; a large antennae stuck out from the middle. Metal coupling automatically extended from either side of the jutting pieces, connecting to form an enormous satellite dish at least four times the size of the others on the platform. After 17 years of disuse, the tower was operational once again.

"Major Biggs! Intruders!"

Squall tore his wide eyed stare away from the massive dish. Wedge had drawn a standard issue glaive from his side; he hoisted it before him in a combat ready stance.

"What?!" Biggs bolted up as he noticed them. "A bunch of kids? How'd you get up here? What happened to the crew downstairs?!"

"Your men have all been dealt with," Squall bluntly told him as he raised his gunblade. "You have nowhere to run. Shut this tower down, now!"

"Over my dead body, you little punk!"

The major pointed his steel-plated right gauntlet at him, bracing it with his left. Squall summoned his protective barrier just as the attached machine gun sputtered to life; its bullets ricocheted off the transparent blue shield.

"You brats should've stayed home," Wedge sneered. He charged at Selphie with his glaive held high. The girl intercepted his slash with her nunchaku, the blade not leaving so much as a nick in the weapon's body.

Squall rushed forward to meet Biggs. He drew back his gunblade, and pulled the trigger as he released the strike. The major leapt out of the way more nimbly than his bulky uniform would have suggested. The slice instead met the platform, cleaving through the metal grating with ease. Not wasting a moment, Squall raised his free hand toward Biggs. He concentrated on drawing forth the energy, just as he'd tried that morning. Flames pulsed from his palm, forming a burning sphere. Biggs threw himself out of the way as the fireball shot towards him. It threaded the gap that had opened between Selphie and Wedge, bursting as it hit the pillar holding up the giant dish.

"Are you crazy?!" Biggs roared. "You kill me, and you'll never know how to shut this thing down!"

"I'd be up to take a crack at it," Zell quipped.

He'd flanked Biggs in the confusion, and placed his left hand on his armored shoulder. He slugged him in the jaw with the other, sending him toppling over. He next brought his foot down on his right arm, appearing to channel his GF's power to amplify his own physical strength. Biggs screamed as the stomp demolished his gauntlet, machine gun and all. The force had been strong enough to bore a small hole through the platform's grating underneath. Zell knelt down to hoist him up by the scruff of his uniform.

"Thing is, we're kinda pressed for time. So, whatd'ya say you cooperate, and I won't have to break your legs, too."

"Put him down!"

The command came from beside the pillar. Squall turned his head to see Wedge having restrained Selphie by the waist, his glaive held up to her throat. Her nunchaku lay on the platform several feet away. Squall's mind raced as she backed her neck away from the blade. He would never be able to clear the gap in time by conventional means. Fire spellcraft would only be liable to catch Selphie in the crossfire, leaving him with only one option to fall back on: his secondary magical element of choice.

Each Guardian Force held a unique disposition towards and against the different varieties of elemental spellcraft. It was seemingly the nature of the creature's essence tied to the sphere which determined what kinds were best suited. For Squall, whose own was of a fire nature, it was spellcraft of that particular element which would be most potent. Conversely, any attempt by him to utilize water and ice spells would be exceedingly ineffective. Zell's earth sphere gave him an inclination towards manipulating rock in various ways, or by channeling raw strength into his limbs as he'd just demonstrated; his own particular shortcomings lay with lightning and wind.

The remaining schools of spellcraft could potentially be conjured by any skilled wielder, regardless of their GF's native element. Over the last six months, Squall had reoriented his focus onto mastering the usage of wind. It was a multifaceted element, with a variety of uses beyond mere offensive or defensive capabilities. In particular, channeling the energy through one's legs could allow the wielder to enhance their own physical movement. With proper application, he could jump far higher than a normal human, slow his fall by generating a flotation buffer beneath him, or most pertinently, give himself a speed boost to clear the distance in time to cut down Wedge. It would be risky, but he was left with no other choice.

He swung his gunblade back, and focused the energy into his legs. A loud crackle of static broke his concentration. He looked to the captive, close-eyed Selphie. To his amazement, her body had begun to shimmer with a radiant light. Wedge reeled his head back in confusion as the crackling intensified. And then, the energy was unleashed; lightning exploded from her petite figure, electrocuting him on the spot. He dropped his glaive, screaming and spluttering in agony. He toppled over, his uniform charred and smoking. The electricity dissipated as quickly as it had materialized. Selphie opened her eyes as the light faded, her lips curling into a cheeky grin.

"Booyaka!" she declared with her hands on her hips.

Squall was utterly beside himself, and not merely on account of the nonsensical battle cry. The blast was beyond anything a new GF user should have been capable of. He was clueless as to how she'd managed to control it so well. Further, he was now convinced that the manner in which she'd broken her fall twice before had been no illusion. It was the very same flotation buffer technique he'd spent months perfecting. And here was this ditzy transfer student, so fresh she still struggled to find her way around campus, who could somehow do the same.

"Screw this!"

Biggs broke free from Zell's grasp. He bolted for the opposite end of the platform, circling the pillar back to the lift.

"Come on!" Selphie urged as she retrieved her nunchaku. "Let's move!"

Squall and Zell followed her lead. They turned the corner to find Biggs frantically jamming the lift control panel, pleading with it to hurry.

"Give it up," Zell taunted him. "You've lost. Just accept it, and do as we say."

"In your dreams, you little shit!" he swore, turning to face them. "If you don't kill me, the top brass will! I'm not about to let all this work I've put in here go to waste. Not by a bunch of baby-faced brats like you!"

"Oh, will you just shut up!"

The snide voice came from behind him, its owner rising with the lift. Seifer kicked Biggs with a well-timed boot to the back, sending him toppling over face first. He stepped off the elevator, and placed his foot atop the downed major's body.

"What a blowhard!"

Takes one to know one…

"Captain Seifer!" Selphie addressed him.

"Well, at least someone here's got a sense of decorum," he smirked.

"I'm a messenger from Squad 53. I've come to give you withdrawal orders."

"Withdraw?! We haven't finished the fight yet!"

"I know, I know! But, those are the orders. All SeeDs and exam participants are to assemble at the shore by 1900 hours. We've got to hurry if we're going to make it!"

"1900 hours?" Squall repeated.

He pulled back his jacket's sleeve to expose his wristwatch; he'd previously adjusted it to Dollet Standard Time during his long shift spent manning the assault boat's turret. His eyes widened as he read the display: 18:32.

"We've got less than 30 minutes!"

"What?!" Zell blew up.

"That's why I was telling you guys we need to hurry!" Selphie urged them.

"Point taken," Seifer said.

He gave Biggs one more kick for good measure, punched the control panel, and stepped back on the lift. It sunk back down before anyone else had a chance to board.

"Hey!" Zell shouted after him; he raced to the open shaft and peered down. "What the hell?!"

"Exam's over, chicken-wuss! It's every man for himself, now! Better run if you don't wanna be swimming home!"

"Not much of a leader, is he?" Selphie sighed.

Squall let the question drift into the early evening air without an answer. Making it back down the mountain and through the city in time would take every ounce of physical endurance he had. He could theoretically conjure the wind energy to enhance his own speed, but would end up leaving Zell in the dust. For how little he cared for his squadmate's company, he couldn't stand to follow Seifer's example.

He eyed Selphie curiously as they waited for the lift to return. The flotation buffer technique was an advanced one which had taken Squall several months of practice to master. It required expert control of the energy to maintain an even and steady deceleration; the higher the fall, the more it would take. As such, he was not about to jump off the communications tower to avoid waiting for the lift, for which it was unlikely any amount of energy would suffice.

"It's coming back!" Zell called. "Let's get on!"

Squall brushed the matter aside. Making it home was all that concerned him now. He stepped forward with Selphie onto the lift as it rose. Zell pressed the panel, and they descended back into the tower's nexus.

Major Biggs lay face down on the grated platform, his body sore from the beating he'd taken. His right arm screamed in pain louder than anywhere else; he counted himself lucky it hadn't been snapped clean in two. The cargo elevator's hum faded away behind him, carrying down the teenage interlopers who'd nearly laid waste to their plans.

The top brass had refused to tell him why it was important they capture and reactivate the abandoned tower. He'd obeyed his orders to the letter, all the same. The tower remained operational even now in lieu of the cadets' forced withdrawal. And yet, despite the mission's success, that it had almost been foiled so easily on his watch was unacceptable. The four had stormed the tower, defeated his men, incapacitated him and his lieutenant, and likely would have shut it down if not for the ceasefire. He would surely be demoted upon his return to the capital, and possibly even reassigned.

He'd loathed General Caraway's executive decision to give him the assignment. His talents were better suited for a spot on the front lines. By contrast, the charge he'd led into the city and up the mountain had mostly gone according to plan. Its sole complication had come courtesy of the prototype weapon they'd deployed; having caused more collateral damage than it was worth, he'd deactivated it upon seizing the tower, and had it moved to the rear storage bay. Had only they been supplied with the army's newly developed hover mechs instead. Once again, Caraway's stubborn, nonsensical decision making had nearly spelled his doom.

I'm not having this!

He pushed himself up with his left arm, rising to his knees. He ran his fingers all over his utility belt to find the remote control, and pulled it free. Squinting his eyes through his visor, he set the dial to match the reinstated tower's frequency; burst transmission would be the only way for the signal to reach the dormant mech far down on the bottom level. He knew the risks. The Black Widow's AI had shown difficulty distinguishing friend from foe, resulting in the deaths of many in his platoon. He thought it over for a moment, and pressed the button.

I don't care anymore. Just as long as it kills those little shits!

Chapter Text

Squall and his teammates shot out of the tower in a furious dash, and bolted up the winding trail as fast as their legs would allow. Seifer already had a significant lead on them; it would take every shred of physical fitness they had to catch up. Squall fought to maintain steady breath support as he pumped his legs. He only hoped the trail back down the mountain would prove quicker than the route they'd taken up. All the better were it clear of enemy troops. He reached the precipice lined by dismembered corpses where they'd met Selphie, when a muffled boom sounded from the tower.

"What was that?!" the girl blurted out.

Squall craned his neck back to the entrance, spotting no visible damage to its exterior. Whatever the cause, the racket had emanated from deeper inside the complex. Perhaps Seifer had sabotaged the generator system on his way out. The looming satellite dish above showed no signs of having lost power, however. Precious seconds continued to tick by as he stood there pondering. Ultimately, the tower was no longer their concern, nor should it ever have been.

"Not our problem," he answered her. "Come on, we need to keep-"

With a deafening screech, the tower's metal doors were ripped from their hinges. Squall reeled back as they flew forward in a blast of debris. He shielded his eyes, squinting through the gaps in his fingers. Whirring machinery and pounding footsteps reached his ears as the dust settled. He lowered his arm, and gaped in shock at what emerged.

From the tower entrance strode a gargantuan war machine unlike any he'd ever seen. It resembled a giant robotic spider, albeit standing on four legs rather than eight. Its face consisted of a glowing red scanning apparatus; a pair of razor sharp mandibles as long as its legs protruded on either side. Its wedge-shaped feet dug deep into the ground as it stepped out from the wreckage. Squall averted his eyes back to the carnage strewn around him; the divots dotted in the surrounding earth were a perfect match.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Zell howled.

The mech stalled in its tracks, and tilted its scanner up. A loud hum swelled in volume as it took sight of them.

"Forget it!" Squall commanded. "Just run!"

He turned tail, and dashed ahead over the remains of the soldiers. Zell and Selphie were hot on his heels the next moment, and as a series of rhythmic tremors kicked up behind, so too was the robot.

The path's downward incline was steep, and riddled with yet more divots from the killing machine's climb up the mountain; a single misplaced step could have easily sent them tumbling over. They kept their frenzied pace up regardless; the pounding footsteps behind necessitated it. Contorted, mangled bodies of yet more soldiers, ally and enemy alike, had been left to fester all along the trail. Whatever kind of men they'd been in life, they now served only as needless impediment as the three weaved around and over.

They charged for minutes on end. The acid in Squall's legs continued to build up, beckoning him to slow for even a moment. He refused, pushing himself to the limits of his physical constitution and beyond. Zell and Selphie matched his pace to either side. The mechanical squeaking and hissing of the robot's hydraulics system remained in clear earshot, as did the clamoring footsteps.

At long last, the stone bridge came into view, a sight every bit as beautiful as the Balamb shores Squall hoped he would live to see again. He poured on the speed like never before. As he reached the lip, a shrill cry from behind broke his tunnel vision. He ground to a halt as Zell flew past him, and peered back over his shoulder. Selphie had fallen to the ground, clutching at her ankle with both hands.

Unbelievable.

The spider mech was rapidly closing in to her rear; it would surely trample her in a matter of seconds. He instinctively channeled the wind energy into his legs. It washed over his lower body as a cool breeze, providing him a sensation of being nearly weightless. He bolted back to her side with speed to rival a world-class sprinter, hoisted her up in both arms, and raced back to the bridge. She stared up at him from within his grasp, the look in her wide green eyes equal parts terror and gratitude. He ignored her in light of the rampaging war machine nipping at his heels.

"Get over here!" Zell shouted from the other side. "I'm gonna end this!"

Squall put everything he had into his sprint; his leg muscles were positively on fire. Zell closed his eyes. He extended his outstretched palm forward as a shimmering aura surrounded his body. The form was no mystery to Squall; he'd invoked a summoning enough times to recognize one. The energy leapt from Zell's figure. It converged and melded rapidly into two bi-pedal shapes of light. Their celestial forms solidified into existence on the bridge as Squall flew past.

In a flash, there stood two minotaurs, one large and one small, the muscular bodies of both coated with striking violet fur. The two bovine beasts lifted their mighty hooved feet together, and brought them thundering down just as Squall reached Zell on the other side. A small earthquake erupted, shattering the surface of the bridge. It crumbled to pieces. Massive chunks of stone fell to the crashing waves below. The spider abruptly halted as the danger seemingly registered to its AI. It shifted gears into reverse, backing up to the opposite side of the waterway. It just barely managed to clear itself before the segment it had been standing on fell away. On Squall's side, the two minotaurs faded back into the ethereal energy they'd sprung from, dissipating into the ether with a flash of light as Zell retracted his hand.

"Holy crap," he wheezed. He was clearly too exhausted to manage much more.

Squall couldn't blame him. Sustaining a summon took great endurance no matter the circumstance. To do so immediately after running a short marathon was more impressive than the damage done to the bridge itself. He turned his attention back to Selphie, still cradled in his arms.

"Can you walk?" he asked as he lowered her gently.

She touched down with her good leg first. After stretching and working her ankle for a few moments, she brought down the other.

"I think so," she said. "Thank you. Both of you."

"Whatever. Let's just hurry on."

"Uh, guys?" Zell worryingly spoke up. "Bad news!"

Squall peered back across the river. Following Zell's pointing finger, his eyes settled on the stone pillars which had supported the bridge. The spider-bot clung to the third from the opposite side, scaling the broken structure to its peak. It reached the top, and leapt for the next. Debris fell as it sunk its talons into the support beam, and started climbing again.

"That thing just won't give up!" Selphie shrilled.

"And neither can we," Squall said. "We're almost there. Let's move!"

The chase swiftly recommenced. Squall retraced his steps back to the Aurora Square, tearing down the streets with wild abandon. The thudding footsteps eventually resumed, audible even from several blocks away. Corpses and refuse still littered the roads, partially obscured by the coming darkness. What fellow squads they passed along the way assured Squall they were not hopelessly behind.

A crash from behind prompted another peek back over his shoulder. The robot had smashed clear through a cafe, bricks and shattered glass raining down as it continued to close the gap. Squall turned his attention back to the road ahead. They had reached the final stretch; one more turn would bring them onto the main street leading down to the beach. Zell and Selphie rushed ahead and around the corner. He prepared to follow suit when another cadet ran across his path. The two collided. Squall knocked the young man to the pavement, throwing himself off balance.

"Hey, watch it, asshole!" the cadet glared up at him. "Look where you're going next-"

He cut himself short, his irritable expression turning to shock as the footsteps to Squall's rear grew louder. The boy shrieked as he righted himself, and went running down the street. Squall followed right behind him. He didn't dare look back again, lest the sheer terror cause him to stumble. The brick archway at the end came into sight; Zell and Selphie had already passed through, the two bolting down the stairs to the shore. He pumped his legs fiercely, clearing the arch just before it was blown apart behind him.

The explosion sent him hurtling over the stone outcropping, missing the stairs completely. The sand below was fortunately enough to cushion him; he'd had no time to conjure a flotation buffer. Brick fell from the heavens as he struggled to his feet. He spit out a mouthful of grains and darted across the beach to his waiting vessel. Zell, Selphie, Seifer, and the members of Squad 20 stood in the open deployment bay. The former two waved frantically as the boat began pulling away from the shore.

Mighty footsteps continued to pound behind him, shaking the already unsteady ground beneath his feet. He toppled over as he reached the water line; the boat was mere yards away from him now. He fought to raise himself, but it was no use; he couldn't stabilize his footing on the shifting sand fast enough. The spider charged right for him, mandibles chomping wildly.

So this is how it ends…

He shut his eyes. With any luck, the gnashing twin scythes would sever his nervous system before the pain could register. It was then, as the anticipation came to a head, that the roar of machine gun fire broke him from his despair. He opened his eyes. Up above, Quistis manned the assault boat's turret. She unloaded round after round into the war machine's chassis. It stalled in its tracks, fighting to steady itself. The bullets continued to shred through its mask, revealing the sparking circuitry underneath.

Squall righted himself and rushed into the shallows. Putting to use what remaining strength his aching legs had left, he leapt into the transport, landing hard on the metal floor. It was more comforting than any mattress he'd ever slept on. A cheer erupted from all present, save for Seifer, who remained leaning against the wall with a slick grin plastered to his face. Squall turned for one last look at the spider-bot; it billowed thick black smoke as it stood paralyzed on the shore. The next moment, it burst into a billowing inferno with a boom that echoed far and wide. Zell slammed the door control panel as the ship pivoted away. The bay doors closed with a thunk. It was over. The SeeD field exam had concluded.

And now I don't want to get out of bed for a week.

"You okay?" Selphie asked.

She offered her hand to help him up. He stared into the girl's now too-familiar green eyes, reminded it had only been that morning when he'd made the same gesture to her. It felt like a month ago.

"Barely," he replied, taking her hand.

"What was that thing?!" the boy named Nida asked.

"If Galbadia has a weapon that destructive, we're in trouble," Randall chipped in.

"Had, you mean," Zell corrected him. "Thanks to Instructor Trepe, of course."

"You rang?"

Quistis stepped through the door from the cabin with Xu. Her focus immediately landed on Squall.

"That was a close one! Are you alright?"

"Tired enough I could pass out, but otherwise okay."

"So, all these years later, he still needs big bad Quisty to step in and save his ass."

Squall averted his eyes at Seifer's mocking, as did Quistis.

"Why don't you cut the attitude and give us your squad's report?" Xu snapped at him. Her tone was venomous, her eyes furrowed in anger. "I'll be very interested to hear why you were nowhere to be found at your assigned post."

It's going to be a long ride home…

"I hope you're real proud of yourself!" Zell raged as he slammed his fist on the desktop. His knuckles, now exposed without his studded fighting gloves, were white with fury. "It's all thanks to you we're going to fail!"

"Stop being such a crybaby for once in your life," Seifer scoffed; he leaned back in his chair with his legs kicked up on his own desk. "We did what was best for the mission. And if they can't understand that, then fuck 'em."

Squall held his tongue; no good could come from taking sides at this juncture. All three of them were bound to face the same punishment in the end.

Commandant Xu had spent nearly half the return trip berating them for their reckless actions. Quistis, beyond horrified by their desertion, had naturally joined in. Squall could do little but stay silent, and accept the chewing out as it came. None of the members of Squad 20 had spoken a word for the duration, nor Selphie save for a brief series of questions concerning her run-in with them; she'd delivered her answers in a shaky voice, with no trace of her usual ditzy demeanor.

Galbadia's forces had established contact with SeeD shortly after the landing. Details of a proposed ceasefire had been delivered to them by a representative from Galbadia Garden; the army would disengage on the condition the tower remained operational. The evacuated Dollet parliament had deliberated in record time, leaving SeeD to issue the withdrawal order.

Seifer remained bitter at having been denied his moment of glory; they could have easily foiled the enemy ploy right then and there. Xu had reminded him that their orders extended only so far as their client deemed necessary. The battle had already effectively been over by the time they'd started up the mountain. Their meddling had nearly laid the entire ceasefire to waste.

It was well past midnight by the time they'd arrived back at the Garden. They'd had their weapons confiscated, and been marched to the bleak, windowless detention room on the 14th floor. The rest of the exam participants had gathered in the ballroom for a post-mission debriefing. It was now past one in the morning by Squall's watch; they'd been waiting almost an hour for the administration to hand down their verdict. He knew there was no chance of any of them passing the exam; he'd expected as much from the moment they'd abandoned their post. Given what they knew now however, expulsion seemed a more likely outcome.

Squall's mind was a blur. Nothing in the last 24 hours seemed real to him anymore; not the fight with Seifer; not the fight to reclaim Dollet; not the fight atop the tower; and not the close brush with death he'd narrowly escaped courtesy of Quistis. And least of all, that he'd taken real human lives. He'd imagined it countless times before, run through every possible scenario in which he would ultimately be forced to make his first kill. He'd assumed he would feel at least the tiniest pang of guilt when the time came. Any normal person would. And yet, he felt nothing.

"First time's always the hardest. But after a while, you'll learn to like it."

He'd brushed away Seifer's words too casually. Perhaps it was not beyond him to become one so depraved, after all.

The hiss of the automatic doors jerked him free from his doubts. The commandant and their instructor stepped in, both still outfitted in their regal, black SeeD uniforms. A puzzling look flashed across Quistis' face as she glanced his way; it lay somewhere between disappointment and relief. He clenched his jaw, bracing himself for the administration's judgment.

"The council has reached a verdict," Xu announced. "After much deliberation, and taking into account Tilmitt's testimony, it has been determined that Dincht and Leonhart were only following the commands of their squad leader, however reckless they may have been. As such, the two of you are hereby acquitted of the charge of desertion. Your results for the exam will not be impacted."

"Alright!" Zell roared. He bolted up out of his seat with both fists raised.

Squall's jaw fell open; he couldn't believe his ears. He'd already been tossed one life-line in his hour of need that same day. Another was more than he could have hoped for, and more than he deserved at that.

"Figures," Seifer grumbled. "That right there tells me all I need to know about this organization. Blind obedience is rewarded, while free thinkers who step outside the lines are made an example of."

"Don't be so stuck on yourself," Xu scolded him. "You'll take full responsibility for leaving your assigned post. You endangered the lives of your comrades, and nearly brought the whole ceasefire crumbling down."

"There wouldn't have needed to be a ceasefire if we'd stayed to finish the job! We would've been heroes if it weren't for that damn withdrawal order!"

"Spare us the 'noble intentions' routine," Quistis said. "You were only looking for a fight."

"My dear instructor," he snorted sarcastically. "I'm hurt. Those are rather cruel words for an aspiring student. Isn't it the duty of a leader to determine the best course of action? But then, what could a fraud like you possibly know about leadership?"

Icy silence descended upon the room. Quistis and Zell's eyes bulged at the disrespectful remark. Squall continued to hold his tongue all the while.

In truth, he agreed with Seifer's outlook, though he dared not admit so now. Regardless of the contract's details, failing to act on the information they'd learned would have been more irresponsible than their desertion. It was a moral grey-area, where resolute determination was needed to make the right choice. Such decisions were part and parcel of the burden of command. Seifer had possessed that determination, and made the difficult call. Squall couldn't have done the same; taking responsibility for himself was onus enough.

"You really are unbelievable," Xu menaced. She stepped in front of Quistis, her eyes staring daggers at Seifer.

"And to think, I was ready to give you the benefit of the doubt this morning, that maybe, just maybe after last year you'd shape up. That you'd start acting more like a professional. But you just don't learn, do you? Either because you refuse to, or you're incapable of it. I don't know which, and frankly, I don't care anymore. What the headmaster sees in you, I'll never understand. If the decision were left up to me, you'd be packing your bags right now. That you have the gall to lecture anyone about leadership is a joke."

"I think that's quite enough, Xu."

The measured, calm interjection came from the doorway. Headmaster Cid stepped through with a pair of robed Thorns, his wrinkled face visibly weary.

"I wish to speak with Seifer alone. The rest of you are dismissed."

"Yes, sir!" Xu and Quistis saluted in unison.

Squall rose from his desk, and saluted in turn with Zell. The four made their way to the door as commanded, and stepped out into the hallway.

"Well, you heard the headmaster," Xu said as the door hissed shut. "The two of you can expect your results within the next couple of days. Now, return to your dorms and get some rest. Though, I'm sure you don't need an order to do that."

She turned around, and marched down the hall to the elevators. Quistis followed just behind with a fleeting look of melancholy.

"Man, dodged a bullet there, huh?" Zell moaned as he stretched. "Can you believe the luck?"

"We haven't passed yet," Squall reminded him.

"Always half-empty with you, isn't it? Well, see ya around."

Zell turned in the direction his superiors had taken, and proceeded after them. Squall stood in place until he saw him disappear around the corner up ahead. Once he was out of sight, he pressed himself up against the wall next to the door; his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He strained his ears to make out the headmaster's voice from within.

"… always known you to be special. And that's why I'm so very disappointed in you, Seifer. Make no mistake, you will be disciplined in the coming weeks for your irresponsible behavior."

A pregnant pause lingered. Squall fully expected Seifer to make a snarky retort at any moment, and yet it did not come.

So, even he knows who not to talk back to.

"Even so, I'm not entirely without sympathy for your reasoning. The last thing I want is for you all to become mindless machines, incapable of thinking and acting for yourselves. The mark of a great leader is the ability to make the best decision when the right decision isn't always clear. Your heart is in the right place. I do believe you have what it takes to become a SeeD. But you allow your emotions to cloud your judgment too easily. I urge you to exercise more control, and not act so callously towards your comrades and your instructor. Especially when they happen to be-"

"Headmaster," one of the Thorns interrupted him. "May I suggest we finish this up quickly? There is still the paperwork regarding the casualties to finalize."

"There are so many issues at hand," he sighed. "Very well, let us leave it at this."

Squall removed his back from the wall, and bolted down the corridor. He found the first available elevator, stepped inside, and pushed the button for the main level. However earnestly the headmaster had tried to smooth over Seifer's frustration, it was all for naught; holding grudges was one of his oldest past-times. There would be no quelling the raging wildfire in his heart. It plagued Squall's thoughts as he navigated the dormitory halls back to his room, desperate for repose.

As he thrust open the door to the common area, an overwhelming fatigue washed over him. It only grew stronger with each step inside. His forehead pounding and eyesight bleary, it took all he had to crawl his way into bed. Without the will or inclination to fight it any longer, he gave into the tiredness. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

"I'm telling you, we're not lost!" Laguna grunted. "The city's just a bit further."

"That's what you said two days ago!" Kiros shouted back.

He bore a razor-sharp katar blade in each hand, a weapon resembling a dagger wielded by a handle-like grip. They sliced through the surrounding foliage with ease, kicking up a whirlwind of leaves amid his whipping beaded dreadlocks.

"I meant it then, and I mean it now! My sense of direction's never let me down!"

"Sounds like your memory sure has," Ward snorted from the rear.

Every step he took brought with it a massive thud. At his near giant-sized proportions, the lower-most branches were a regular nuisance. He casually swatted them away as if they were mere twigs.

The three had been dispatched to the Timber region with the reinforcement battalions a week earlier. Their mission: to assist in quelling the ongoing resistance uprising. Upon arrival, they'd been assigned with reconnaissance of the surrounding forests; the first wave of infantry had already driven most of the insurgents into the trees. Within hours of setting out from base camp, they'd inadvertently stumbled into an ambush by the guerrillas, and barely managed to escape with their lives.

The narrow getaway had sent them scrambling, displacing them from the rest of their platoon. They'd trekked for three days in the hope of running across civilization again. By the end of the first, they'd already abandoned their helmets for the sake of increased visibility, as well as to better cope with the humidity. They'd made camp the last two nights within the deep woods, routinely trading off lookout shifts. It had been an exhausting ordeal, with still no end in sight as the sun climbed towards its midday peak again.

"We've got to be going the wrong way," Kiros said as he came to a halt. "It's been too long since we've run into any tangos."

"I dunno," Laguna muttered. "Somehow… I'm getting the feeling we're being watched."

[… this again?]

"Huh?"

A strange sensation washed over his mind. He shifted his eyes in both directions.

"You guys hear something?"

"Something like what?" Kiros shot him a concerned look.

"Well, maybe not hear, but… more like feel, I guess. Like there's something else around."

"That's just the lack of sleep getting to you," Ward reassured him. "There's no one around for miles. If there were, they would've attacked us by-"

A rustling kicked up in the nearby underbrush. Laguna frantically spun around, and trained his assault rifle to the source. The bullets tore through the shrubbery, shattering the forest's calm. A sickening squeal escaped the bushes. Birds perched on the trees above cawed as they soared into the sky. Laguna kept still, his aim unflinching. Several tense moments passed before the rustling picked up again. A grey lizard creature with pincer-like claws slithered forth, and slumped over, its forked tongue sticking out from its gnarled teeth.

"Damn geezards," Laguna moaned.

"See, nothing around but a few monsters," Ward insisted. "Who knows how far we've drifted from the city by now."

"I'm telling you, it's under control!"

[Who's this idiot trying to convince?]

"Let's just keep moving. This place is giving me the willies."

They continued on through the seemingly never-ending wilderness, the pit in Laguna's stomach growing deeper the further they progressed. Despite his bluster, his comrades were right. They were lost. The Timber woodlands were legendarily vast, stretching for miles on end in every direction. They could have been anywhere along the continent's southeastern territory by now. Rations were running low, as was his ammunition supply, and now, perhaps even his sanity; there was a subtle yet undeniable buzzing in his head.

For at least a half hour more, they slogged on. Laguna's usual optimism gradually returned as the forest ahead became thinner. Kiros seemed to share his renewed vigor, slicing down the last of the thicket in their way with exhilaration; he too had seen what lay beyond. The leaves and twigs fell away, revealing a winding dirt road along open plains.

"Told you we'd… make it out," Laguna gasped.

He returned the rifle to the sling on his back. His legs aching, he stumbled from the treeline to the side of the road.

"That's only the first step," Kiros reminded him. "We still don't know where we are."

"I'd say 80 miles northwest of Timber," Ward spoke up.

"And where are you getting that number from?"

Ward pointed his finger further down the road. Laguna followed it to a carved wooden sign reading 'Timber – 80 miles SE' planted in the gravel.

"You gotta be shittin' me!"

"Well, looks like we covered a lot of ground," Kiros sighed, sheathing his katars on his thighs. "Guess we better get moving, then."

"No way. We're staying right here. First transport that passes, army or civvy, we're hitching a ride back to the capital."

"You want to go AWOL?" Ward looked at him incredulously.

"Who said anything about AWOL? I'm goin' home with honorable discharge. Ah, my leg!"

Laguna keeled over in mock pain. He clutched at his knee, feigning a limp for his comrades. Kiros turned his head in embarrassment.

"What? Too hammy?"

"And what happens when they x-ray you, and find nothing's wrong?" he asked.

"It got better on the way back? C'mon, it'll all work out. Trust me."

He'd no sooner gotten the words out when the sound of helicopter rotors reached his ears. He turned to the south, straining his eyes against the sun. A chopper was approaching, clearly military issue; he caught sight of the gear-shaped Galbadian crest on its side door as it pivoted away to the west.

"Damn!" he swore. "There goes our ride outta here! Hey!"

He tore across the road, arms waving frantically. Perhaps by some miracle, the pilot would glance down and see him. He stopped as he heard something launch from behind, and spun around. A trail of smoke shot upward, guided by a bright red light. Kiros stood at its base with a flare gun pointed to the sky.

"So much for double-checking your equipment!" he called across the road. "You're welcome!"

"How long have you had that?!" Laguna spluttered in disbelief.

He raced back across to his comrades' side. From behind, he could hear the chopper drawing closer as it veered off course.

"Why the hell didn't you use that two days ago?!"

"Shoot off a flare in the middle of a dense forest?" Ward scoffed. "That's using your head."

The three retreated to the forest's edge as the helicopter made its approach. The gust produced by its rotors caused the foliage to whip wildly all around them. Laguna plugged his ears as it touched down on the road, and sprinted forward to the opening side door. He purposefully slowed to a stumble, putting on the limp once more. The infantryman standing at the door offered his hand. Laguna ignored it entirely, and leapt aboard, landing hard on the metal flooring.

"Ah, dammit!" he feigned. "My leg!"

"Are you okay, soldier?!"

The infantryman knelt down beside him as Kiros and Ward stepped on.

"It's been hell out there! We've been stranded… for days… and I think I… I've got a dislocated knee!"

Laguna consciously added a series of agonized inhales and winces between words. The soldier seemed to be buying his performance so far.

"We were ambushed, and separated from our platoon," Kiros explained as the chopper lifted off. "He's in no condition to fight. We need to get him medical care right away."

"We're en route to Deling City right now," another soldier assured him. "The battle's been more or less over for a day now."

"Say what?!"

In his surprise, Laguna nearly forgot about his act. He quickly tagged a wince on the end, catching an eye roll from Ward as he did so.

"The city's been secured, and most of the remaining enemy forces have been driven out. We got orders to start pulling out the reinforcement battalions. The artillery's been given the go-ahead to do a clean sweep of the woodlands."

"And by 'clean sweep', you mean breaking out the flamethrowers?" Kiros interjected. His eyes were fixed out the window.

Laguna pushed himself up, and mock limped to his side. Far in the distance, a massive cloud of billowing black smoke obstructed any visual of the city. It was as if a volcano had erupted in the middle of the forest. Laguna felt sick to his stomach. He'd long accepted the likelihood he would be forced to carry out orders he found disagreeable, distasteful even. This however, was beyond the pale.

"Deling wants to make an impression," one of the soldiers grunted.

"Guess we might as well have used that flare in the woods," Ward joked grimly.

My days in this army are numbered, one way or another…

Chapter Text

"At ease!" Xu commanded.

Squall snapped out of his salute, and placed his hands behind his back. The 62 other newly appointed SeeDs he stood among did the same.

They were assembled in alphabetical order in the headmaster's grand hall. The man himself stood before his raised ebony and gold throne at the head of the chamber, flanked by Xu and his two Thorn advisers. An immense glass window spanned the entire wall to their rear, offering an unmatched view of the Alcaud Plains beyond. The walls to either side were decorated by more plaques than Squall could count. Even at only 12 years since its founding, SeeD had accrued a storied history. Its next chapter would begin with him and his fellow cadets. As he scanned his eyes across the assembly, he picked out Zell's spiked blonde hair near the front. Selphie was bound to be somewhere behind him; surely she'd earned a pass after what he and his squad had put her through.

Squall's routine over the last two days had been a simple one: eat, stroll about the campus to clear his head, and rest. He had no desire to touch his gunblade for the time being, nor go about his usual training regimen. Many of the others doubtless shared his sentiments. It had been an exhausting ordeal for them all, and not every soldier had left the battlefield unscathed.

Never before had the field exam concluded without a single casualty. According to the weekly student newsletter, 28 of the 225 participants had required medical attention in some capacity upon their return. Additionally, a total of 5 cadets and 2 SeeDs had fallen in the line of duty. Such losses were paltry compared to the Galbadian and Dollet casualty figures. All the same, they had undoubtedly been friends to many in the Garden. The headmaster had performed his annual obligation of sending word to the families of the deceased, who would be invited to attend the memorial service the following week.

"First and foremost, I wish to congratulate you all on a job well done," Cid began. "You've performed admirably. By standing here today, you have officially earned your place among the ranks of SeeD. Your uniforms will be delivered to your dormitories by tomorrow afternoon, before the graduation ball. I trust you'll all be attending. You are the esteemed guests of honor, after all."

Squall had no intention of turning up to the ball if he could avoid it; social gatherings of any kind ran counter to his loner nature. Neither had he ever attended the annual Garden Festival, held to commemorate the school term's end, for that matter. What the rest of the student body got out of such events would forever elude him.

"However, even as we celebrate your induction, do not forget that with this title comes far greater responsibility than you have faced thus far. From now on, you will be dispatched on assignments all across the globe, as representatives of this Garden. You will be expected to handle these missions with the utmost skill and professionalism. Remember, you are among the finest combat specialists in the world, members of Balamb's elite mercenary army…"

The headmaster stalled in his speech for a moment; an uncertain look flashed across his kindly, wrinkled face.

"But… that is merely one aspect of what SeeD truly is. And I tell you this now to prepare you for a day I know is fast approaching. When the time comes-"

"Headmaster," one of the Thorns interjected. "It is almost time for the meeting. Let us please make this short."

The robed man stepped in front of the headmaster, raised his arms, and proceeded to speak in his stead.

"SeeD is a valuable asset to Balamb Garden. Its reputation is dependent on each one of you, so handle your respective missions with care. Is that what you wanted to say, sir?"

Stunned silence fell upon the hall. In all his years as a cadet, Squall had never seen such brazen disrespect shown to the head of Balamb Garden. The looks of disbelief up and down his row assured him he wasn't alone. Cid stood still on the raised platform, his head bowed in deference.

"We will now present you with your SeeD rank reports," the obstinate Thorn spoke again.

He motioned to Xu with a wave of his arm. At his bidding, the commandant lifted a waiting stack of papers from a nearby table, and descended the steps.

Just who's really in charge here?

Xu swiftly made her way through the assembly, handing each new SeeD a stapled dossier. While all those present had attained SeeDship, their respective starting ranks and bi-weekly salary would vary in relation to their final scores. From what Squall had gleaned, on the scale of 1 to 30, the highest rank a fresh graduate could expect was typically in the 7 to 8 region. There were occasional exceptions; Quistis had received a staggering Rank 12, which had dovetailed into her promotion to instructor within months. Though he took Xu at her word that his results hadn't been impacted - that he'd passed at all was proof enough - he would be surprised to receive a score higher than 5. It would surely be lower than Selphie's at the very least, and perhaps even Zell's.

The commandant finally stepped in front of him. She whipped his report off the top of the stack, and held it out to him.

"You have Tilmitt to thank for this score," she said as he took it from her.

"Excuse…?"

She moved on to the next graduate before he could get the words out. His heart thundered in his chest. He flipped open the file, anxious as to what she could have meant. Upon their return, Xu had taken Selphie aside to get her full testimony down on record for the administration. Had she let slip something that had jeopardized his standing? He turned to the final page, his eyes coming to a rest on the bottom. There, beside the headmaster's stamped seal, his final score had been printed: 'SeeD Rank – 10'.

He couldn't believe his eyes. He blinked them rapidly, convinced it was a trick of the light. When that failed, he flipped the report back to the front; perhaps she'd handed him the wrong one. Sure enough, the cover bore the name 'Leonhart, Squall'.

This has got to be a mistake.

His eyes remained widened in amazement. Against all odds, and despite having effectively aided and abetted treason, he'd achieved a double-digit ranking. He re-opened the file to peruse the pages; there had to be an explanation somewhere. His eyes skimmed over the wealth of numerical figures and statistics, eventually coming to a hand-written summary on the second-to-last page:

Leonhart has proven himself an inimitable close-quarters combatant. His professional demeanor and workmanlike attitude is that of the model soldier. His strategic awareness has been noted by squad adviser Trepe. Of most important note however is his observed inclination towards a role of leadership, effectively stepping up to command his squad in lieu of the de-facto captain's dereliction, and his refusal to leave behind an incapacitated comrade in the face of almost certain death.

Squall did a double-take at the words printed on the paper.

'Inclination towards a role of leadership'?!

The thought was so far removed from reality it boggled the mind. He was no leader, and to be held to such a standard was more than he could accept.

"And with that, the SeeD inauguration is concluded," the headmaster spoke. "Dismissed!"

The assembly of new SeeDs saluted once again. With another motion from Xu, they all turned, and trickled towards the hall's large double doors. Squall stayed rooted to the spot as the murmuring kicked up, his eyes still trained to the headmaster and his advisers.

The Thorn's interruption had been more than a careless overstep; that he'd overheard essentially the same thing three nights earlier gave it precedent. More concerning was the headmaster's submissiveness both times. Even as they stepped down from the platform and ducked into the side door to his office, he looked more like a prisoner being shown to his cell.

"We did it, man!"

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. Out of the blue, Zell and Selphie had materialized by his side.

"Somehow," he muttered.

He shook Zell's hand off, and made his way down the red carpet to the doors. As he exited into the elevator antechamber, he spotted Quistis maneuvering her way through the rest of the students. Their eyes met. She flashed him a smile as she passed; however brief, there was something amiss.

"So, what'd we all get?" Selphie asked. "I got an 8! They appreciated my guts for following you guys up the mountain."

"I got a 7," Zell half-moaned. "I got points docked for arguing with Seifer on the boat. Even with all that's happened, they're still calling it insubordination."

"Be grateful we made it at all," Squall reminded him as he reached the elevators. He stepped aboard the nearest one, and pressed the button for the atrium.

"I know, I know. It just ticks me off. Figures the one deduction I get is because of him. But hey, how'd you score?"

"See for yourself."

He passed the report as the doors slid shut. Zell took it, and flipped to the last page. The expression which came over his face was priceless; Squall's own couldn't have been far off.

"Ten?! How's that work?!"

"Oh, congratulations, Squall!" Selphie cheered. "I made sure to put in a good word for you two. I'm really glad it paid off!"

"What did you say, exactly?" he asked.

"Nothing that wasn't true. You both did great out there. That, and you saved my life. I know I didn't get a chance to thank you before, so… thanks!"

"… it's nothing."

He'd merely acted as he saw fit in the heat of the moment. Ditzy and overly-excitable as she was, he couldn't have Selphie's death hanging on his conscience for the rest of his life. However, one noble deed did not a qualified leader make.

The lift reached the bottom. He stepped out of the elevator with his eyes absentmindedly fixed to the floor.

The only person worth looking out for is yourself. 'Inclination towards leadership', my-

A pair of black boots stood in his path. The grey coattails draped around them were just as familiar, the very same he'd laid eyes on before having the scar cleaved into his face. He craned his neck up to the man who bore its twin. Fujin and Raijin stood on either side of him. Zell's shoes squeaked as he fell into a fighting stance. Seifer stared blankly between the three of them without a word. Seconds passed in awkward silence, the tension continuing to mount. And then, a pursed smile crept over his lips; not a smirk, but a smile. He clapped his hands to them, his two lackeys joining in right away.

Is he mocking us?

"Congratulations," he said, extending his hand. "You made the cut. Put 'er there."

"Who are you?" Squall asked incredulously.

"Oh, come on. Credit where it's due, and all. Don't leave me hanging!"

"He's bein' serious, y'know?" Raijin insisted. "Jus' shake his hand, already!"

"Truce!" Fujin blurted out.

Zell looked every bit as put off by Seifer's unusually upbeat demeanor. Squall turned to Selphie; she shrugged as if to say he might as well. With nothing else for it, he reluctantly extended his hand. To his surprise, they shook without incident; he'd half-expected to be pulled into a headlock.

"Why so cheery?" Zell asked. "Here I figured you'd be pissed for weeks."

"It does kinda suck," Seifer admitted as he released the handshake. "They're doubling my training, plus I've gotta do community service. Grounds-keeping, helping with the Garden Festival, they're even putting me on the catering staff for tomorrow night. But I'm not gonna let this get me down. I've still got one more shot next year, and I'm gonna make it count!"

"Resolve!" Fujin said.

"That's the spirit!" Selphie cheered. "And I'm on the festival committee! I'll help you get settled in."

"I'd appreciate that."

The smile stuck to Seifer's lips unnerved Squall more than any fit of rage. There had to be some ulterior motive behind his sudden change in attitude.

"So, you guys heading to the ball?"

"Of course!" Zell said.

"You betcha!" Selphie pumped her fist.

"… sorry, not my thing," Squall muttered.

"You serious?!" Zell reeled. "It's the biggest day of your life, and you're just not gonna show up?"

"Yeah, what gives?" Selphie asked. "I hear it's gonna be real swanky! Live music, dancing, a full banquet and open bar, the works!"

She slyly leaned in towards him, and elbowed his right arm.

"Who knows? Maybe we can help score you a hot date while we're at it."

Squall had heard enough to pique his curiosity.

"Did you say, 'open bar'?"

The starry night sky sparkled through the ballroom's glass domed ceiling. Below, SeeDs new and old milled about the festivities with their dates. Some danced in the center, romantically swaying to the Garden chamber orchestra on stage. Others chatted by the banquet tables and fully stocked bar. Still others had retreated to the balconies for a more secluded, intimate setting. The merry atmosphere was all-encompassing; it was hard to believe many of them had been waging war mere days before.

The night had begun well enough. The SeeDs had assembled with their partners to the orchestra's opening strains. There had been another congratulatory speech from the headmaster, followed by a few words from the mayor of Balamb, who was known to attend each year's graduation ball with his wife. A toast to the new graduates had capped off the introductions, and the ball proper commenced.

Squall quietly observed from up against one of the archways. He was dressed in his new black and gold uniform, just as every other SeeD present. They'd provided their measurements on the exam application form several weeks earlier, allowing the tailoring staff time to fashion fitting uniforms for everyone. It had been delivered to his dorm that afternoon, just as the headmaster had promised. He'd looked himself over in his bedroom mirror before making his way up; it certainly cut a sleek figure on him, from the ornamented shoulder imprints down to the solid black boots.

Each attendee was permitted to bring a date for the occasion, SeeD or non. It was each student's responsibility to forward the information to their instructor ahead of the exam; having the date's details would allow them to attend by themselves in the event the candidate in question failed. Squall had made no effort to ask anyone to be his partner, leaving him by his lonesome amid the merriment. And yet, it was not jealousy of the dancing couples that had compelled Squall to the sidelines, but an unshakable feeling he had no business standing there at all.

He'd achieved his goal of becoming a SeeD. He'd received higher marks on the exam than most cadets could dream of. The moment he'd built up in his mind for so long had finally arrived. And yet, he hadn't earned it. He'd willingly followed Seifer in his desertion, and was just as deserving of the same punishment. Moreover, Seifer's talk of chasing his dream continued to nip away at him; with nothing more to aspire for, what did he have left to give his life meaning? He longed for release, for some way to smother his worries before they became too much to bear.

The bubbling glass of champagne in his hand was the solution he'd opted for. It was only his second of the night, and he was sure at least a few more re-fills would be on their way soon. The legal drinking age was 18, though none of the catering staff could be bothered to check student IDs on such an occasion. It was far from Squall's first experience with alcohol; he wasn't a heavy drinker by any means, but it would take more than a measly two glasses to reach his desired state of inebriation.

He took another swig, and raised his eyes skyward. It was indeed a beautiful night; the stars and moon lit up the void beyond the glass dome, made all the more prominent by the light from the Garden's hovering ring. As he continued to gaze intently, a strange feeling of nostalgia washed over him. He could almost feel a peaceful breeze sweep across his body, causing the hairs on his arms to stand up on end. The sound of crashing waves and scent of saltwater came to mind. He wasn't sure why; he'd certainly not had the leisure to admire such things on the shores of either Balamb or Dollet.

A shooting star suddenly passed before his eyes. It arced across the sky, dipping down as if to land in the center of the ballroom. He traced the twinkling swathe to the dance floor directly ahead. The couples continued to waltz obliviously with one another. None of them had seen it. Except for one.

A young woman stared up from slightly outside the center. She looked to be around his own age, though her lack of a uniform implied she was not a SeeD. She instead wore a white halter dress with matching heels, the color a stark contrast to her flowing dark hair. A silver ring hung from a thin chain around her neck. She lowered her gaze from the stars, turning to look about the ballroom. Squall met her deep brown eyes as they landed on him. She paused, held the stare, and then smiled gently. She brought her index finger up, pointing to the ceiling.

'You saw it, too?' she seemed to be gesturing.

Squall quickly averted his eyes. He was in no mood to socialize, least of all with so much anxiety weighing him down. It slowly dawned on him that he was wasting his time trying to drink his worries away. Perhaps the night would be better spent reorganizing his belongings for re-location; along with his promotion, he would receive his own private living quarters sometime in the next week. He would need to be fully packed up for when the moving staff arrived. He extended his arm to place his glass down on the nearby pedestal, when the clacking of approaching heels froze him in mid-motion.

He turned his eyes back to the dance floor. The smiling girl was making her way over to him. As she drew near, the caramel highlights running through her hair became more pronounced, three on either side of her rounded face.

"You know," she started in a sweet, slightly seductive tone. "I think you might be the best-looking guy here."

"If you say so," he brushed her off.

Though the bruises had mostly healed, he'd figured his new scar alone would have served to repel any unwanted advances. Apparently, there was no accounting for taste.

"What do you say to a dance?" she offered her hand.

You've got to be kidding.

"Not interested," he bluntly replied.

He took another sip on reflex.

"Aw, why not? It's just one dance. You've been standing by yourself over here the whole time. Don't you want to loosen up a bit? Or… are you one of those types who'll only dance with someone he likes?"

"Sure, let's go with that."

He swigged back yet more champagne to calm his growing irritation.

"Alright, then."

She puffed herself up, stepping even further into his personal space; she was now more or less pinning him to the wall. He didn't dare try to push her off on account of the unwanted attention it might bring. She looked directly into his eyes. Their noses were almost touching.

"You're going to like me," she chanted in a faux-mystic intonation. "You're going to like me."

I'm going to hate you.

"Did it work?"

She's worse than Selphie.

He lifted the glass to his lips again, but stopped. He would surely end up drinking himself into a stupor before she finally took the hint. While doing so had more or less been his reason for showing up, he intended to accomplish as much on his own terms. He set the glass down on the pedestal, and looked her right in the eyes.

"I can't dance," he lied.

"Oh, you'll be fine," she grinned mischievously.

She grabbed his wrist without warning, and yanked him from the wall. Squall stumbled forward, caught completely off guard. She wasn't particularly strong, at least not compared to him; he could have easily broken free from her grip, but again restrained himself so as not to draw attention. She dragged him along to the crowd of dancing couples.

"I'm looking for someone," she said. "I can't be out here on the dance floor by myself!"

"I don't care what you-"

He jerked to a halt as they reached the center. She forcibly moved his left hand to her waist, took hold of his right, and placed her own right on his shoulder. She set her feet into motion as the next measure of the waltz came around. Squall purposefully stifled his movements; perhaps she would give up if he pretended he'd had a few too many drinks. It made no difference; she proceeded to lug him around like a dead weight. It wasn't long before his negligence sent them colliding into another couple.

"Hey, watch it!" the male SeeD snapped at him.

"Sorry," he apologized.

Now was his chance to slip away from his captor. He needed to get some fresh air before he blew a gasket. He turned away, only to feel her fingers grab his sleeve from behind. His frustration flared to new heights. There was no holding back his emotions now; whether or not he ended up causing a scene, this girl needed to be put in her place. He spun back around to give her a piece of his mind, but stopped as he opened his mouth. The look on her face seemed concerned, sympathetic even.

"Please," she spoke to him. "There's no need to be so high strung. It's only a dance. Just relax, okay? Tonight's supposed to be about having fun, right?"

Squall's swelling anger instantly deflated, leaving him with no clue how to respond. With all that had happened in the last few days, enjoying himself had been rendered dead last on his list of priorities. He'd come to the ball to drown his sorrows, to drink his worries away until they no longer mattered to him. It had been no use. Meanwhile, here was this girl, who'd appeared from the blue to offer him the release he longed for, and in his dejection, he'd tried to shoot her down for it. Even now, her pleading brown eyes begged him to let her be of some help.

"I… guess one dance won't kill me."

She smiled as he willingly took her hand. She placed her other on his shoulder again. After a few more beats, they began anew.

The two pranced and twirled about to the jovial waltz. She matched his movements perfectly, following his lead with fluidity and grace. She had clearly taken lessons. So had he, as part of the Garden's espionage training seminar. They elegantly intertwined and parted, continuing on for several minutes amid their fellow dancers. By the end, even Squall had to admit he was enjoying himself. She was the ideal dancing partner, more skilled on her feet than many cadets he'd practiced with, and very pretty besides.

The waltz at last drew to a close, the orchestra finishing with a drawn out rubato. They pulled each other in, Squall's left hand on her waist, the fingertips of his right touching hers. A genuine happiness swelled up in his chest. The corners of his lips perked up slightly as they stared at each other, seemingly frozen in time. In that moment, he felt truly alive.

The illusion was shattered by a sudden burst of applause. Squall craned his neck towards the stage, watching the conductor take a short bow before turning back to the orchestra. He flipped his score to the next piece and raised his baton. Squall swiveled his eyes back to his dance partner. Her own now peered over his shoulder. She removed herself from their embrace.

"See ya," she said with a wink and a small wave.

She hurriedly took off in the direction she'd been looking. He turned to call her back, but she was already halfway to the banquet tables. The orchestra started again, this time to a romantic slow dance. The other couples around him swayed back into motion. The girl's white dress vanished from sight, leaving him alone in the center of the dance floor. He hung his head in disappointment; the misery returned as quickly as it had faded.

He'd reluctantly opened himself up. He'd allowed himself to be vulnerable with another for the first time, and felt real peace of mind in the moment. And yet, by allowing himself to be swept away, he'd forgotten the most important truth of all: to rely on others for emotional support was to be rendered incapable and weakened. Nothing lasted forever, least of all the affection of others; becoming dependent on anyone would only lead to his undoing. And now that the moment was over, he was left with exactly that: nothing.

And this… this is why I don't even bother…

It had truly been a sight to behold; never had Quistis seen Squall so genuinely invested with someone else than for those few minutes. She'd observed their waltz from afar, captivated by the grace with which they'd moved, left to wonder just what the girl had done to draw it out of him. She'd tried countless times over the years to get him to open up, only to be beaten to the punch in a single night. It filled her with happiness, and also the tiniest pang of jealousy. Such feelings had no place in her heart; it was her duty as an instructor to remain impartial, and interact with students on a professional level.

'Was.'

The girl stepped away with a faint wave to him, and made her way across the room. Squall stayed fixed to the spot, longingly staring after her as the music started up again. He hung his head as the surrounding graduates and their dates went on dancing around him. Evidently, he was taking it personally that she'd simply had her fill for the evening. He eventually retreated out of the center to one of the balconies.

Quistis followed, sidestepping her way around the room's circumference. She came to the archway leading outside, and stepped onto the vista. The view from the Garden's 15th floor was breathtaking; the vast forested plains far below trailed to the Gaulg Mountains in the distance. What light there was at this late hour came from the Garden's floating halo above.

Squall stood hunched over the metal banister with his arms crossed. He certainly did not seem as approachable now as he just had moments ago on the dance floor. Given the privacy they'd been afforded however, there was no more opportune time.

"You… really are an excellent student," she fumbled for a conversation starter. "Even that dance was perfect."

Squall did not turn to face her. A long pause lingered before he spoke, his voice barely audible over the orchestra to their backs.

"Oh… you saw?"

"Yeah."

She strode up to the banister, and leaned over beside him, crossing her own arms in imitation.

"Whatever brought that on?" she prodded.

"Is there something you want?" he asked irritably.

"So, you'll dance with someone you don't even know, but can't stand being around me?"

"You're an instructor. I'm your student. It's awkward."

"Well then, I guess… every cloud does have a silver lining."

She let the ominous comment hang between them, hoping it would pique Squall's interest while she gathered her thoughts to explain. The previous day's meeting in the headmaster's office had been swift and deliberate. No time had been wasted in determining the proper course of action; it had surely already been discussed at length since the field exam's conclusion. She'd seen the writing on the wall from far off. She'd expected Seifer's dereliction to have ramifications on her standing as well. Headmaster Cid, the kind soul he was, had handled the proceedings with a gentle touch; his disappointment with the verdict was evident, just as Xu's. The Thorns had been merciless by contrast; they'd explained in no uncertain terms that her tenure was a failure.

"Effective immediately… I, Quistis Trepe, am no longer an instructor. I'm just a normal SeeD operative again, like you."

Her dream was at an end. For however much it pained her to put into words, it was why she had come; she desperately needed someone to confide in. Still, Squall refused to look at her.

"Who knows?" she continued, trying her hardest to crack a smile. "Maybe we'll end up working on a mission together, sometime."

"Oh… really?"

"That's it? That's all you're going to say?"

"What am I supposed to? If that's how it's been decided, then there's nothing more to it, is there?"

Quistis slumped forward again, the light breeze sweeping her golden bangs across her face. Squall was right; there was no method of appeal. It would forever stay as a black mark on her otherwise spotless record.

"They told me I failed as an instructor. That I lacked leadership qualities. That it was a mistake to have given the promotion to someone so inexperienced. I wasn't strict enough, didn't discipline my students the way they wanted. Seifer was all the proof they needed on that one. But that…"

She paused, a lump forming in her throat as she fought to eek the words out.

"That… wasn't the kind of instructor I wanted to be. I thought I could do things differently. I thought I could make friends with my students, be the kind of person to build them up instead of tearing them down for every little mistake. I tried my best… I really did. I wonder where I went wrong… are you listening?"

"Are you done yet?" Squall snapped as he stood up straight. "Why are you dumping this all on me? What do you expect me to say?"

"I'm not asking you to say anything!"

She shot up from the banister to face him, now fighting back tears.

"I just want you to listen!"

"Then go talk to a wall!" he exploded. "I'm in no mood for this. I've got my own problems, and I don't need any more on my mind."

"Then tell me! I've said it before, that I'm always here if you need someone to talk to! Aren't there times when you want to share your feelings with someone? Just to make everything feel a little better?"

"Never."

His voice was cold as he stepped back towards the ballroom.

"The world is cruel, and everyone faces it on their own. I don't want to carry anyone else's burden."

"Do you…" She stammered, her voice cracking. The first watery trails streamed down her cheeks as she balanced herself against the guardrail. "Do you really believe that? That everyone can just get by on their own? Last I checked, it was me who saved you from that… thing back on the beach."

"Then maybe you should have done me a favor, and left me to die."

He strode back inside without another word, leaving Quistis by herself on the balcony. She buried her head in her arms on the ledge. The tears spilled from her eyes uncontrollably.

No leadership qualities… failed instructor… perhaps they're right…

Chapter Text

The blade whittled another divot into the wooden training dummy, the latest of innumerable tattering the mannequin. Had Squall pulled the trigger, he would have doubtless sliced it clean in two. He was conscientious enough not to destroy a shared piece of training equipment, nor squander his own ammunition. The gunblade's explosive rounds were expensive to manufacture. He'd been allotted a strict yearly budget for replacements; any additional expenditures would come out of his own pocket.

The Garden training center was the largest of the ground-level facilities by far, an artificial stretch of lush wilderness taking up most of the academy's east end. Dozens of floodlights lined its high domed ceiling, giving it the appearance of a massive incubator. Indeed, despite its lush greenery, it was no place for a leisurely stroll. Captive wildlife roamed the expanse, some even vicious monsters imported from the ruined continent of Centra. From Squall's own experience, the creatures tended to keep their distance from the open clearings where students usually trained. None had ventured into his own today, the humid tropical climate his only adversity for the moment. He'd removed his leather jacket, leaving it draped on a nearby rock formation.

A full week had passed since the graduation ball. Squall had moved into his new quarters, which were far roomier than his old dorm; his days spent sharing a common area with roommates were no more. After a few days, he'd regained the inclination to start training again. Despite his renewed vigor, keeping his composure proved difficult; the infuriating exchange with Quistis still gnawed away at him.

Who the hell does she think she is?

He fiercely cleaved another chink into the wood. How dare she use him as a sounding board for her emotional diarrhea. Squall was no confidant, nor a therapist; he positively loathed the prospect of being roped into other people's problems. Adding insult to injury was how she'd tried to swoop in on him in his vulnerability. He'd never been particularly savvy with regard to interpersonal relationships; his complete aversion to the concept ensured as much. Even so, Quistis' blatant favoritism over the years was too obvious to ignore. There was a reason Seifer had teased the two of them upon their withdrawal from Dollet. At the very least, he was grateful not to have crossed paths with her in the previous week. Neither had he caught sight of the mysterious dark-haired beauty he'd danced with.

That's probably for the best. I must have been out of my mind to-

A pair of bloodcurdling shrieks interrupted his train of thought, one after the other. The first was clearly bestial in nature, the second the shrill cry of a woman. He lowered his weapon as he turned to face the direction they'd come from. The sound of trees tumbling down reached his ears, as did a series of faint tremors his feet. Whatever monster had been disturbed, it was clearly one beyond the average cadet's abilities.

He took off through the thicket of foliage, slicing away whatever stood in his path. The creature's shrieking continued amid whizzing spellcraft ahead; whoever it was seemed to be putting up a fight, at least. With any luck, his intervention wouldn't be needed by the time he arrived on the scene.

He broke through the thicket, emerging into another open clearing. The foliage's circumference was broken at the northwest corner by a trail of ruined trees. A disgusting, green plant-like creature slithered forward on eight thick, porous tentacles. Innumerable razor-sharp teeth lined it's gaping maw. At least a dozen eyeballs protruded from as many deformed and bent stalks all over its body. It was a sickening abomination of nature, or rather, a malboro. Though Squall had never laid eyes on one in person, the grotesque pictures from his biology studies were not so easily forgotten.

Before the salivating plant monster stood not a woman, but a pair of young men. Their uniforms were unfamiliar to Squall; the general design resembled those of SeeD, but with a beige color scheme, and cream headbands tied around their foreheads. Lightning shot from one's fingers. The malboro screeched again; it reared back, staggered by the blast. Moments later, a distinct squelching noise started bubbling from its mouth. A glob of phlegm-like substance flew from its gullet. The second man conjured a protective energy shield before them. The acid reflected off and splattered all over the ground, rapidly eating its way through the soil.

Squall sheathed his gunblade, activated the sphere on his belt, and proceeded to channel its energy as fast as he could. He shut his eyes in concentration; maintaining focus would be all the more difficult amidst the creature's incessant shrieking. Within moments, the fiery aura surrounded him, a burning flame that seemed to engulf his very soul. He re-opened his eyes, and cast the energy out. The blaze came alive as it danced and twirled in the open divide. It quickly took shape, coalescing into a hulking silhouette.

A demon emerged from the inferno in a flash of light. It stood on two legs, towering over him at an easy seven feet. Its dark brown musculature was offset by crimson fur running from its mane, its face resembling a feral lion. Two jagged black horns extended from its head, curving down its back. It roared at the malboro. The plant monster answered the challenge with a screech of its own. Squall stayed in place with his arm outstretched; maintaining the summon required all his focus.

Fire erupted from the demon's wicked claws. It snarled as it viciously charged forward. The malboro gathered more acid in its throat, and shot another glob. The demon evaded it with ease, closing the gap at frightening speed. It leapt high into the air, and cast both its hands down from above. A sea of flames spilled forth from its paws. The malboro let out an agonized scream as it thrashed and flailed wildly, fully engulfed by the fire. After another few seconds, its charred body slumped over and lay still.

Squall at last released his focus. As he did so, the horned beast beside the pyre slowly dissolved back into the aura from whence it had materialized. He fell to one knee as it fully dissipated; sustaining the summon never failed to leave him winded. He raised his head to see the two beige-clad men step forward from the edge of the foliage. They looked at each other, nodded, and split off in separate directions; one circled the smoldering corpse to his position, the other to the eastern edge of the clearing.

"Young miss!" the one furthest away called out. "Are you alright? Please, come out at once!"

A rustling kicked up in the nearby bushes as the other helped Squall to his feet. From the thicket stumbled a dainty figure. She was dressed in a light blue, sleeveless blouse with a white skirt, her short brown hair barely touching the tops of her shoulders. What caught Squall's attention however was the green shawl wrapped around her. There was no mistaking it; this was the same girl who'd been by his bedside in the infirmary.

"It is not safe here," the attendant politely told her. "Please, let us be on our way."

She nodded. Her brown eyes met Squall's from across the divide. She stared at him for several moments before turning to follow her escort.

"Thank you for your assistance," the second bodyguard spoke to him. "You may go."

"Hold on a minute," Squall said.

He reached out his hand to follow after the young woman. The man seized hold of his wrist before he could take a step.

"Thank you for your assistance," he repeated in a much more assertive tone. "You may go."

Squall had little strength left to put up a struggle, worn out as he was from the summon. The two bodyguards were clearly formidable fighters, and likely could have dispatched the malboro themselves had they not been preoccupied with drawing it away. He relaxed his arm to show deference. The man released his grip, and hurried off after his entourage, the three making haste in the direction of the training center exit. Squall turned back along the path he'd literally cut through the thicket; he had to retrieve his jacket before taking his own leave.

He still had no idea who the young woman was, or why she'd come to visit him in the infirmary. His confusion further mounted as his consideration shifted to her bodyguards. They must have been SeeDs of some distinction, given that they'd had Guardian Forces. Perhaps they were members of a newly organized regiment. There had been no announcement of the sort following his graduation, but he couldn't think of any other possibility; he'd certainly never seen them before in all his years at the Garden. The conundrum continued to plague his thoughts all the way back to his dorm.

"Whatever," he muttered to himself as he closed the door behind.

It was all immaterial to him. Between Quistis, the girl from the ball, and this latest incident, he had spent far too much time and energy mulling over his problems with women. His efforts were better spent making preparations for his new life. A refreshing shower would be a welcome start. He untied his shoes, and slipped his feet out, before removing his jacket to hang on the back of the door. A knock from the other side froze him in place as he did so.

What now?

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he twisted the knob and pulled the door open. Selphie stood on the other side, clad in bright yellow casual wear. It appeared to be an unusual cross between overalls and a mini-skirt; the two straps over her shoulders supported it, with a silver zipper running down the middle to the skirt portion at the bottom. A pair of brown boots reaching halfway up her calves completed the outfit.

"Hey!" she greeted him. "I've been asking all over for where your room's at. And, of course, I still end up taking a few wrong turns. The more things change, huh?"

"What do you want?" he asked. "If it's about the festival, I told you, I'm not-"

"No, no, it's not me. It's the headmaster. We've got our first mission together."

"What?!"

His heart sunk. What could he have possibly done to deserve being sent on an assignment with her?

"Yeah, for real! And it sounds like it's gonna be a long one. We need to pack our stuff and assemble in the parking garage by 1900. Casual attire. Apparently, it's gonna be a covert operation. Oh, and Zell's coming along, too!"

Squall's mind exploded.

"One more minute," the Thorn announced. His eyes beneath his headpiece were fixed to the golden pocket watch in his hand.

"I would hope he'd have the sense not to be late for his first assignment," Headmaster Cid sighed.

If it means we get grouped with someone else, I won't complain.

Squall waited alongside Selphie, the headmaster, and his usual aides. The parking garage's dim lighting cast long shadows of their figures across the cement floor. They stood on the lowest level, beside their designated vehicle. The silver convertible was far sleeker than the troop transports they'd taken the day of the field exam. All the same, it would only serve to get the three of them into town. From there, they would transfer to their mission locale, either by assault boat, or the intercontinental railroad. Based on their directive to bring along several changes of clothes, Squall expected a long-term assignment. He'd packed them along with his gunblade in the duffel bag at his feet.

That his first real mission had come so quickly was a surprise to be sure. That he'd have Zell and Selphie for company was another, far more unpleasant one. Besides their clashing personalities, they were all fresh rookies. Sending them into the field without an experienced operative to lead made little sense, and somehow he intuitively knew who among them would end up shunted with that responsibility. Could this have been another decision based on his 'inclination towards a role of leadership'? It was a severe misunderstanding of his character, and nothing more.

His ears picked up on the hum of an approaching engine; it emanated from the garage tunnel ahead of them, drawing closer by the second. Selphie and the headmaster both covered their ears as the sound reverberated off the walls. A blur of red and blue shot out from the tunnel. It decelerated rapidly, and drifted to a halt by their side.

Zell rode in atop a sleek Turbine Board, as long as he was tall. The motorized slab of metal hovered several inches above the ground, lowering as he disengaged the engine with his foot. He wore a black jacket, baggy blue jean shorts, red sneakers, and his signature studded leather gloves, with a duffel bag of his own slung over his shoulder.

"Just made it!" he exclaimed, kicking up the board. "Sorry 'bout the wait. Had some last-minute stuff to take care of."

"T-Boards are prohibited on the Garden premises," one of the Thorns chastised him. "Have you forgotten?"

"Oh! Sorry… but I was really in a hurry. And besides, this thing could really come in handy on a mission someday!"

"We'll be the judges of that. Confiscate it."

The second Thorn strode forward, and swiftly ripped the board from Zell's grasp.

"Aw, you gotta be kidding!" he protested. "I built that thing myself!"

The uncaring aide placed it under his arm, and walked back towards the atrium.

"Damn… well, that's why you always build two."

"Zell, you should know better," the headmaster told him. "Plan ahead next time, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Remember this," the remaining Thorn said. "And this goes for all three of you. You may be SeeD operatives, but you are still students of this Garden. It is your responsibility to maintain a professional appearance. That goes doubly so for when you are in the field. Never forget that your actions and behavior have repercussions. Understood?"

Squall did not need to be reminded; he'd long since internalized the expected discipline of a SeeD. It had been one of the few accurate observations detailed in his exam report.

"Headmaster, shall we begin the briefing?"

"Indeed," Cid agreed. He adjusted his glasses, and cleared his throat.

"Anyway, I understand this will be your first official SeeD assignment. I'm sure you're all anxious, but know that I have the utmost confidence in the bonds you three share. I've grouped you together for that very reason. With your combined wits and expertise, I'm certain you'll succeed no matter what obstacles you may face."

Squall couldn't help thinking the kindly old man senile. Outside of the occasional class or training session, he'd deliberately gone out of his way to avoid Zell. Selphie meanwhile was still an enigma to him, and an annoying one at that. There was no camaraderie between them; their teamwork during the field exam had been purely a matter of circumstance.

"For this mission, you will be heading to Timber. I assume you're familiar with the region's geo-political climate?"

"Of course!" Zell exclaimed.

"More or less," Squall muttered.

"Um… would a quick refresher be okay, please?" Selphie sheepishly asked.

"Of course," the headmaster humored her. "Simply put, Timber was once a nation that separated from the Holy Dollet Empire centuries ago. For the last twenty years, it's been under military occupation by Galbadia, which in turn led to the uprising of several resistance factions, all vying to drive out the Galbadians, and regain independence. We've been contracted to provide support to one such faction, the Forest Owls. Your duty is to assist them in their plans, and follow whatever orders you're given."

"And it's just us three being sent?" Zell asked.

"That is correct," the Thorn butted in. "We have agreed to take this contract for very little money. Under normal circumstances, we would never humor such a request. But, at the headmaster's insistence-"

"Enough!"

Squall jerked his head at the headmaster's outburst; it had been quite unseemly for the typically mild-mannered man. With how frequently he'd been talked over by his own attendants however, it was inevitable. At the very least, the aide's interruption had cleared up why they, a squad of fresh graduates, were being sent off on their own. Everything ultimately did come down to how much money was laid on the table.

"As I was saying, you will provide support for the Forest Owls. You'll take the 8 p.m. intercontinental express from Balamb. We've arranged for a private cabin, and constructed fake IDs for your arrival. Please."

He motioned to the Thorn. The man produced a manila envelope from his robes, and handed it to him.

"When you arrive at Timber Station, a member of the faction will initiate contact with you. He'll say, 'The forests of Timber sure have changed'. The password is, 'But the owls are still around'. Don't forget that. Squall, you're the squad leader."

How did I guess?

"I expect you'll use your best judgment to carry out the mission."

He extended the envelope to him. Squall hesitantly stared at it, wondering if he ought to simply refuse, and ask that another operative be assigned instead. His standing as a SeeD was a sham, an undeserved title he'd come to bear through a stroke of dumb luck. He was not leadership material; his desertion had proven him incapable of following orders, much less giving them. And yet, in the face of one from the headmaster himself, he couldn't disobey. He bowed as he accepted the file with both hands.

"Zell, Selphie, you are to follow Squall's commands."

"Yes, sir!" the two saluted together. Squall placed the folder under his left arm before snapping into one of his own.

"That concludes the briefing," he nodded to them. "Best of luck!"

The three fell out of their salutes. Squall and Selphie retrieved their bags from the floor as the headmaster and his aide turned away.

"I'll drive!" Zell announced. He threw his own bag into the convertible's back seat, and leapt over the driver's side door without opening it.

"Shotgun!" Selphie called. She gently lowered her luggage into the rear, and circled around to the opposite side.

Squall opened the back door as Zell started the ignition. He placed his own baggage along with the folder behind the driver's seat, sat down, and buckled his seat belt as the car shifted into reverse. It backed up, turning to align with the garage's exit, the headlights lighting up the darkened tunnel ahead. Zell revved the engine several times before suddenly shifting into drive. The tires screeched as they jolted forward, tearing down the tunnel at top speed. Selphie whooped in exhilaration. Squall held on for dear life to the back of her headrest.

"Are you trying to get us killed?!" he hollered over the whipping wind.

"The man said 8 p.m., right?!" Zell yelled back. "We've got less than an hour! Just chill out, I know what I'm doing!"

The sports car shot from the tunnel's mouth, Zell deftly maneuvering around the upcoming curve and onto the highway. Squall craned his neck back for one last look at the Garden, the massive conch shell shrinking away into the fast fading twilight. He hadn't a clue how long their assignment would last, nor what adversity they might face in the coming days. As he gazed up at the shimmering gold halo above however, a strange feeling washed over him, a dread that when he again laid eyes on his home, things would never be the same.

Zell's insistence on driving like a maniac got them to Balamb in record time; for a route that generally took 25 minutes at normal speed, he'd managed to cut their ETA down by nearly half. They still had more than half an hour by the time they pulled through the town gates. It was the most absurd over-correction for his brush with tardiness Squall had ever seen.

Remind me never to let him behind the wheel ever again.

He guided their convertible into the station's parking lot. His head still spinning, Squall gathered his effects, and stepped out onto the cobbled stone pavement. Selphie retrieved her own bag from the back seat, and followed after him. Zell lingered behind for a few moments to raise the windows and cover. After retrieving his own things, he shut the door behind him, and locked it with the clicker attached to the key ring.

"We're so early!" Selphie said. "Wanna grab a bite around here before the train leaves?"

"I'm sure they'll have a dining car on board," Squall bluntly told her. "I'd rather we just get on now. I don't want to risk any hold-ups."

He opened the headmaster's envelope, and carefully tilted it down. Their ticket stubs and ID cards slid out into the palm of his other hand.

"I guess so," she pouted as she took hers from him. "It's just… well, I'm still new to these parts. I haven't really gotten the time to check things out around here. Everything's so different from Trabia."

"Hey, don't worry!" Zell said as he took his stub and ID card. "This is my hometown. Once we get back, I'll show you around."

"Let's just move out," Squall steered the conversation back on track.

He stepped onto the street, turning his eyes to the turnstiled entryway before them. 'Balamb Station' had been painted in ornate lettering atop the gate. A cluster of passengers fresh off the newly arrived train spilled out from its mouth. Roughly half that number climbed up the short flight of steps to proceed inside.

The intercontinental railroad between Balamb and Timber ran twice a day, utilizing two alternating trains traveling back and forth on parallel rail lines. The trip took roughly 11 hours in each direction. Given the hour time zone-differential, it made for a convenient trade off between arrivals and departures each day. The locomotive, while fast, couldn't compete with SeeD's assault boats; they would have likely saved several hours by taking one instead. Even so, the amenities they'd be provided on the train made it the preferable option.

Squall climbed the steps to the turnstiles, and slipped his ticket stub into the nearest one. It passed through the machine as he stepped through, emerging on the other side with a puncture through its tail. Zell and Selphie followed after him into the terminal. They made their way along the platform to their designated car, the second-to-last in line.

Dozens of people crowded around the phone kiosks opposite the tracks. Prior to the worldwide radio interference, cellular phones had made the conventional pay-phone model obsolete. And then, in a single night, the world of communications technology was turned back at least 30 years. It had been a particularly nightmarish complication for the public institutions that had already gutted their pay-phones, prompting a full re-installation and re-connection of the severed land-lines. And once the underground HD cable network began to take off, so came the tiresome task of re-wiring them yet again.

The trio reached their car, and stepped aboard. Squall inserted his ticket into the door's automated scanning system. After several mechanical beeps, the red light to the side turned green. The scanner ejected the stub as the door slid open. A long, narrow hallway waited beyond, the train's windows to one side, eight metal cabin doors to the other.

"Which one are we?" Zell asked.

"Cabin 7D," Squall read the print on his ticket. "Looks like it's that one."

He gestured to the second closest door to them. Zell strode up, and inserted his own ticket into the scanner. It repeated the same procedure as the carriage door. His eyes went wide as it hissed open.

"Holy crap!"

Zell raced inside without a second thought. Squall shared a glance with Selphie before following suit; the reaction was promising enough. As he stepped through, he was indeed pleasantly surprised by their accommodations.

Dark mahogany wood paneling decorated the walls. A pair of bunk beds jutted out from the right corner, appearing to be carved from the wood itself. A minibar replete with drink glasses and a mini-fridge took up the left side. A large sofa sat in the center beneath the curtained windows. The room's subdued lighting gave it a homey, rustic ambiance, akin to a regal hunting lounge. For a mission being conducted for so little money, no expense had been spared for their lodgings.

"This is so sick!" Zell exclaimed.

He threw open the mini-fridge to rummage through its contents, withdrew a bottle of soda, and crossed over to the couch.

"Talk about swanky!" Selphie agreed. "But, only two beds? Looks like someone's sleeping on the couch. And I'm telling you right now, it's not gonna be me!"

"I think our leader should be the one to bite the bullet," Zell smirked as he plopped himself down.

Makes no difference to me.

"I'll let you guys work it out, then," Selphie winked. She dropped her bag beside the bunk beds, and turned back to the door.

"I'm gonna check out the rest of the train. If this is what the cabins are like, I just gotta see that dining car. Later!"

She trotted out the door, and rounded the corner. Squall set his own bag beside the sofa, and sat on the opposite end from Zell. He reclined back in exasperation; it was going to be a long trip, with or without the company of his comrades.

"So, how's it feel to be the big man, now?" Zell asked him. "You get what you've always wanted?"

"You don't want to get me started on that," Squall said. "And I really don't want to talk about it."

"Man, even as a SeeD, you're still the same. Just letting you know, it pays to show respect to your comrades. Especially if you want them to have any respect for you."

"Excuse me?"

Squall raised his head in confusion. This sudden passive-aggressive attitude of Zell's was nothing like the carefree demeanor he'd come to expect. Neither was it the exaggerated, easily outraged side of him.

"Are you trying to start something?" Squall shot back. "When have I disrespected you?"

"Well, maybe not me. But, I think Instructor… sorry, former Instructor Trepe deserves better from you."

So, that's what this is about.

"She told you?"

"Who else did she have to go to, after you left her out on the balcony like that?" he growled. "I don't know who you think you are, but what you said to her doesn't impress me much."

"I'm not her diary!" Squall snapped.

He rose to his feet, his head beginning to pound in the heat of the argument.

"How is it fair for her to dump all her problems on me? I don't need this right now, so just drop it. It doesn't concern you."

"The hell it doesn't!"

Zell stood up himself. His eyes stared through Squall's with laser-precision.

"It's all on you and Seifer that she lost her license! And still, she was willing to stick her neck out to help us pass! Would it kill you to show some gratitude, and not act like a selfish prick for once?!"

"Shut up!" Squall roared.

He brought his hand to his forehead; the pounding was growing more intense by the second.

"Yeah, some professionalism there, Mr. Squad Leader."

Squall opened his mouth to fire back, when a piercing sensation shot through his mind. He fell to his knees.

"Oh, come on, stop being such a drama queen!"

What the hell's going on?!

His vision blurred. His muscles lost all autonomy. The next moment, he slumped to the floor, face first, without any way to stop himself.

"Squall?" Zell's voice called to him, barely audible over the ringing that had enveloped his ears. "Squall, stop screwing around!"

What's happening to…

All was silence. All was darkness.

And then, a light…

Chapter Text

"One Gotland red, one Balamb whiskey, and one… virgin pineapple daiquiri."

"Coming right up," the bartender replied. "You with those two, again? Take a seat. I'll have Diane bring 'em over."

[What the hell's going on?!]

Laguna stood still at the bar as the now familiar pang shot through his mind. The more he focused, the more apparent the cause became; the strange buzzing sensation from the forest had returned. Though he'd been thankful to some extent for a genuine issue in place of his feigned leg injury, he'd been just as grateful when it had disappeared. Still, he'd brought it up to the medical staff at the compound upon their return to the capital. They'd performed an MRI scan and, finding no abnormalities, suggested it was a symptom of general anxiety. So long as it wasn't the onset of PTSD, he could cope with it.

Following his examination, post-mission debriefing, and a full day's rest, Laguna and his comrades had taken to the Deling City streets. Referring to his home by its new name still proved difficult. All his life, it had been the eponymous capital city of Galbadia; so it had been for centuries before Esthar's bid for world domination. With war looming on the horizon, and the people in need of stable leadership, the senate had voted to indefinitely extend President Vinzer Deling's term. His first use of his emergency powers had been to re-brand the city's name with his own. From there, he'd ordered the splintered western nations be ushered together under Galbadia's flag, hence his squad's deployment to Timber.

Laguna had never taken a vested interest in politics; he was content to leave such matters to those who knew more about running a nation than he ever could. Even so, as the image of the burning woodlands replayed in his mind's eye, he couldn't help but think a line had been crossed somewhere. A night on the town was in order after such an ordeal.

He turned from the bar to make his way back to his teammates. Both were seated at a small circular table, one of many dotting the Royal Galbadia Hotel's basement lounge. Each bore a single lit candle placed in the center. The lights above were dimmed to provide a subdued, romantic ambiance; several couples had already started putting it to use before the show's start. His partners, now outfitted in their own casual wear, stuck out cartoonishly by comparison.

"The drinks'll be right over," he told them, taking his seat.

"Yours should be easy to pick out," Ward teased him.

"Hey, that was a rough few days we had out there! Maybe I'm in the mood to drink!"

"Then, why don't we head on down to the Tipsy Mog instead?" Kiros smirked.

"You crazy?! I'm tryin' to keep away from all the army watering holes. You remember what happened last time, right?"

"I'm sure the major is over that. It was only on his boots, after all."

"Yeah, and you're forgetting the part after where I got those boots right up my ass!"

"I'm not," Ward smiled.

"Um, sirs?"

Laguna turned his head up. A young woman with short cropped hair stood at the table, balancing their drinks on a tray. He embarrassingly nodded to her with a wave; their exchange had gotten a bit too crass. She placed the drinks on the table, and retreated back to the bar. Just as Ward had predicted, Laguna's daiquiri was the odd one out.

"If that's alcoholic, then I'm having sparkling water," he snorted, reaching for the whiskey.

"That obvious?"

"Painfully," Kiros chuckled as he took his first sip of red wine. "We all know you don't come here for the drinks. Just be honest about it."

"Well… yeah, maybe not, but… you know, it's just nice to kick back with some music for a change."

"Closer, but that's still not it."

"Well, let's see what's behind curtain number one," Ward motioned forward.

Laguna shifted his attention to the stage at the front of the lounge. The overhead spotlights switched on, lighting up the drawn curtains. A mild round of applause kicked up as they parted. The drapery gave way to a stunning grand piano, and moments later, an even more stunning young beauty. Her shoulder-length hair was luscious black, her satin dress an elegant red. She bowed to the audience before taking her seat at the piano.

Her name was Julia, and true to his friends' ribbing, she was his reason for coming. She'd recently been making a name for herself as a regular performer at the hotel. Her sets typically consisted of piano arrangements of popular music, with a few originals sprinkled in. Laguna adored all of it.

She adjusted her sheet music, stretched her dainty fingers, lowered them to the keys, and began. He recognized the cover right away. It was a regular one at her shows, an instrumental arrangement of a popular ballad titled, 'Where I Belong'; its soothing melody walked a careful balancing act between melancholy and joy. The original version had been played to death on the radio for years. In Julia's hands however, it spoke to him so much more clearly, without need for lyrics. It warmed his heart as he sipped from his drink.

"The ambiance is nice, I'll admit," Kiros murmured.

"Yeah," Laguna sighed. "She's really something, huh?"

"What's your goal here?" Ward asked as he set his whiskey down. "You come in, get a drink, sit down, watch from the shadows, and leave. Every single time."

"What am I supposed to do?" he shot back in a hushed voice.

"If you're so interested, show it. Give her a little wave, why don't you?"

"Can't you see she's working right now?!"

The round of applause drowned out Laguna's hiss. Having wrapped up the piece, Julia turned on the bench to bow her head. She scanned over the approving audience with a smile. It abruptly faded as her gaze landed on him.

Her deep brown eyes stared right into his. He could almost feel them peer straight through him, exposing him for the hopeless romantic he was. The smile returned to her lips after a moment. She turned back to her sheet music, pulled two pages from the rear of the pile, and placed them front and center. Whatever she was about to play clearly hadn't been next in the running order.

"If that's not clear as day," Kiros elbowed him.

Julia started up again. The new piece was one Laguna did not recognize; it wasn't a cover of any song he knew, nor could he recall hearing it at any of her previous shows. It was cheerier and slightly more upbeat than 'Where I Belong', though still definitively a piano ballad.

"What are you waiting for?" Ward leaned in. "That was a really good sign."

"You want me to just walk up to her while she's playing? I'm trying not to look like a creep."

"And sitting here, staring her down night after night isn't creepy?"

Ward had a point; intended or not, his attitude could easily be misinterpreted. Regardless, strolling up to the stage out of the blue was unthinkable; it could just as easily be seen as disregard for personal boundaries. One fleeting smile was all he had to go off of. For all he knew, it could have been directed at someone right behind him. He turned to look; there was no other occupied table there. All the pieces seemed to line up. Still, the fear kept him paralyzed.

"I think my leg's acting up again."

"Tell you what," Kiros said, placing his wine glass back on the table. "For every song she finishes before you go up and give her a little wave, I'm getting us put on traffic duty for one hour."

"What?! You're joking! Don't you remember the pile-up from last time?"

"Because someone parked our transport in the middle of the street," Ward butted in.

"Better get moving, then," Kiros threatened.

Laguna hesitantly stumbled to his feet. The chewing out he'd received for the previous incident still haunted him; a repeat of that would surely be worse than any rejection. He slunk around the adjoining tables towards the bar, coming to the right-hand wall. From there, he inched his way forward, drawing ever closer to the stage from the side. He stepped out into Julia's line of sight.

[Is this guy serious?]

Laguna again brushed off the strange mental dissonance. He stayed in place until Julia eventually turned her eyes to him. She carefully looked him over without interrupting her piece. His heart pounding in his chest, he raised his hand, and waved to her with an embarrassed grin. Her own expression was one he could not easily read. Perhaps intrigue, but just as likely confusion. Had he indeed crossed a boundary? He swiftly turned around, and hurried back to his table.

"There, happy?" he snapped to Kiros.

"Are you?"

"Credit where it's due," Ward grunted. "You had the balls."

"Didn't cut a very manly figure, though."

"Whatever," Laguna snorted.

He took a sip of his daiquiri as Julia finished the second piece. Another round of applause followed. So her performance continued for roughly 20 minutes more, during which the trio ordered another round of drinks. For his second, Laguna opted for the alcoholic variant, figuring a different sort of buzz might help to alleviate the odd anxiety symptoms.

The last thing he'd wanted was to make the woman he admired uncomfortable. No matter how many times he replayed the scenario in his head however, he couldn't envision it in a favorable light. The same could be said for his regular attendance, which had clearly not gone unnoticed. As she finished her final number, and took her bow, he considered if this night ought to be his last.

"I can see her going places," Kiros said as she walked off stage.

"Yeah," Laguna agreed. "Talent, looks, personality… the whole package."

"Don't sound so down," Ward said. "You've got confidence to spare in the field. This stuff should be a cinch."

"You'd think so."

He couldn't accept the compliment; if he ever seemed so, it was only because he longed for bigger and better things. Ward abruptly gulped down the last of his whiskey, and stood up.

"Laguna, we're gonna take off," he announced.

"Huh?! What gives?!"

"Just stay a while, and relax," Kiros advised, rising to his own feet. "The drinks are on us this time."

"Uh… thanks, I guess, but… why the hurry?"

The two of them were already halfway over to the bar by the time he got the words out. They moved with purpose, seemingly to distance themselves from Laguna as quickly as possible. Had he somehow offended them? Had his persistent negativity gotten under their skin?

"Excuse me?"

The voice came from across the table. Laguna spun back around, and nearly fell out of his seat in shock.

"May I?" Julia asked. She gestured to where Kiros had been sitting.

"Uh… yes, of course!" he stammered.

Those sneaky bastards.

"Sorry, did I interrupt anything?" she asked as she took the open seat.

"No, no, absolutely not! Please."

Oh man, oh man, this is really happening! What do I do?! What do I say?! But… man, she really is pretty.

[What's this guy thinking?]

"Are you okay?" she asked. Her eyes showed genuine concern.

"Y-yeah, I'm cool," he feigned. "Just a little out of it. Me and my squad got back from Timber yesterday."

"Oh, my!" she gasped. "I've heard it's been terrible out there! Were you wounded?"

"Nah, nothing serious. Took the wind out of us, though. So, I figured we'd, y'know, come here to take a load off and relax a bit."

"I see. But… you don't seem very relaxed."

"Well… yeah, I just… well, you see…"

His tongue contorted and twisted itself in knots. He was truly speechless.

"Nervous?" she softly smiled. "Don't be. In fact, I've been meaning to talk to you."

"To… to me?!"

This can't be real…

"Yes," she sweetly chuckled.

She swiped an unused napkin on the table with one hand. Her other pulled a pen from her dress pocket. She clicked it, and scribbled something on the white cloth.

"But, it's a little crowded here. I'd rather we talk somewhere a bit more private."

She slipped the pen back into her dress, and slid the napkin across to him.

"If you're interested, I'll be waiting for you."

She gave him a playful smile, and rose from her seat. She crossed the lounge to the staircase leading to the hotel lobby, her flowing satin dress brushing along each step on the way up. Laguna lowered his eyes to the napkin. A brief message was scrawled on it in elegant cursive: 'Room 712'.

He sat in silence for what felt like hours, unable to take his eyes off the cloth. There was simply no way he could be reading it right. His alcohol tolerance might have been on the lower end of the spectrum, but surely one drink couldn't have put him so far out of it. Perhaps it was the buzzing in his head which had caused him to hallucinate the entire exchange. And yet, the writing remained printed on the napkin. The perfume still lingered in the seat next to him. It had been no illusion.

He bolted to his feet, shoved the napkin into his pocket, and darted for the stairs. The lobby flew by in a blur as he raced for the elevator. He pressed the button for the seventh floor, a frantic excitement building in his gut as the lift began to rise; the anticipation of what awaited him in Room 712 was too much to bear.

Am I really going to…?!

[Am I really going to…?!]

The doors opened to the seventh floor hallway. He raced ahead, coming to an abrupt halt at the correct room. His heart caught in his throat. He breathed deeply, and raised his fist to knock.

"Play it cool," he mumbled. "Just like Ward said. Confidence."

He rapped his knuckles twice on the door.

"Coming!"

The knob turned after a few seconds. The door opened to reveal Julia, still in her red dress. He must not have been sitting by himself for very long, after all.

"I'm glad you came," she smiled. "I was starting to think I'd come on too strong."

"N-not at all," he stammered, stepping through. "Thank you for, uh, inviting me."

The room featured one queen-size bed with a pink duvet. Two lamps sat upon small dressers to either side. A writing desk rested against the opposite wall, with page after page of sheet music strewn atop. A small table with two chairs stood before the bay window overlooking the city skyline. The downtown district beyond was lit up by colorful neon lights. Far in the distance, at the very heart of the city, the golden Iguion Gate loomed. It was a relic from the Holy Dollet Empire; towering at roughly 70 feet, and decorated all over by sculpted stone gargoyles, it had been the city's most famous tourist attraction for ages.

"Please, have a seat," Julia motioned as she closed the door. "Would you like some wine?"

"I'm… not really a heavy drinker," Laguna confessed.

He strolled over to one of the chairs. A bouquet of roses rested atop the table, along with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

"I'm not trying to get you loaded," she giggled. "Just a little bit to take the edge off. I can tell you're nervous."

She sat down opposite him, popped the cork, and poured herself half a glass. Against his better judgment, he accepted the bottle from her when she was finished. He fumbled for small talk as he filled up his own.

"Well, I, uh… it's just that… I'm a pretty big fan of yours."

"So, that's why you always come to hear me play?"

"Y-you noticed?"

He nearly spilled the bottle as he lowered it.

"Of course," Julia beamed. "You always have that same, sweet smile whenever I see you out there. You have very beautiful eyes, you know… though, they look a little scared right now."

Laguna shied away in embarrassment. He could feel his face turning red as a beet.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna pluck 'em and eat 'em! I just wanted to talk."

"About what?" he asked, taking a swig to calm his nerves.

"About you. I want to get to know my admirer. What you do, what you like, the sky's the limit. Like, how long have you been in the army?"

"Uh, a little less than a year now."

He took another swig on reflex. As it traveled down his throat, he could tell it was already having the desired effect on him.

"I joined right before the war started up. Might've thought twice if I'd known what was coming. The battlefield isn't something you ever get used to."

[I'll drink to that.]

"I can imagine," Julia replied, taking a sip; her eyes were completely focused on him. "You said you just got back from Timber, right? That must have been rough."

"Yeah, seems like the world's gone crazy. This sure wasn't what I signed up for."

"Why did you join, then?"

He averted his eyes to the dazzling city lights beyond the window. His aspirations were something he seldom spoke of; it had taken him months to find the courage to tell Kiros and Ward.

"It's complicated. When you boil it all down, though, I guess it's because I was looking for something to give my life meaning. Maybe it's kind of selfish, but… I just wanted to see what the world had to show me. Travel to different places, try new things, and maybe make some good memories along the way."

"And have you?"

"Oh, yeah."

He flashed her a grin. For his courage to tell her, he rewarded himself with another sip.

"There've been good times with the bad. If I hadn't joined, I never would've met my two best pals. They might be royal pains sometimes, but they've always got my back. I don't know where I'd be right now without them."

"That's great!" she lit up. "And I don't think that's selfish. Do whatever makes your life worth living."

"Yeah," he sighed, turning his gaze back to his drink. "But, like I said, it ain't all sunshine. And after these last few days, I know my future's not with the army for much longer… hey, can I tell you something?"

"Anything you want."

Just being in her presence made him feel invincible. He gulped down a significantly larger swig, and stood up, placing his hand on the table to steady himself.

"Well, I wanna be a journalist! Y'know, write about all the places I've been to, the things I've seen, share all that stuff with everyone! It's my dream!"

"A travel journalist?" Julia pensively hummed. "Wow… that would be a great way of following your dreams."

"Yeah, it'd be great!" Laguna slurred. "But, I'm talkin' way too much. What about you? What's your dream for the future?"

[Why do I feel like I'm being mocked?]

"My dream?"

She glanced down.

"Well… I really want to sing. Not just play piano, but sing, too. With my own original songs."

"Oh, really? I'd love to hear that!"

"It's something I've wanted to do for a long time, but never had the courage to go through with. I'm not very good at writing lyrics. I've tried. The inspiration is just never there. But, now…"

She paused, and raised her eyes once more to him; they now gleamed with hope and longing.

"Thanks to you, I think I can come up with something."

Laguna's legs gave out from under him. Whether it were owed to the alcohol or the shock, he couldn't tell. He collapsed back down into his chair.

"Thanks… to me?"

"Yes," Julia blushed. "The second song I played tonight… did you like it? I wrote it for you. I want to give it lyrics one day. And now, I think I know where to start. Everything you've just told me… about your dreams, your fears, the good times, and the bad… the support you've shown me… your smile, your face, your eyes… I think I can make it work."

Laguna had no words; even sober, he doubted he could ever have found the right ones. He slumped forward with his arm laid out on the table.

"I must be dreamin'."

[This is too weird to be a dream.]

The sensation was barely noticeable amid his swirling mind. It was nothing compared to the feeling of Julia's hand on his.

"It's not a dream, is it?"

His vision blurred as he slipped from consciousness. He'd reached his limit.

"Oh, now I see what you meant. I didn't know wine made you sleepy…"

He awoke on a soft, plush surface. His eyes met bright fluorescent lights above, forcing him to bring one hand up against the glare. A groan escaped his parched throat. Laguna had foolishly tried taking in more than he could manage, on an empty stomach no less. The room seemed to subtly jerk around him, adding to his disorientation. He brought his hand up to his pounding forehead. His eyes shot wide open as he felt one of his fingers dip into what felt like a small divot.

Is that… a scar?

Squall jolted upright, darting his eyes about the train cabin. He lay upon the large sofa beneath the curtained windows, the drapes gently swaying in time with the mechanized rustling. His squadmates were nowhere in sight.

As the pounding finally subsided, he brought up his wrist to check the time. The watch's digital display read 20:49. Considering they'd boarded at least 20 minutes before the train's scheduled departure, he had evidently been out for just over an hour. Strangely, it seemed to correlate perfectly with what time he'd spent as Laguna.

He recalled his prior two experiences in the body of the bumbling soldier. Both had been every bit as vivid, if slightly easier to rationalize; having come immediately before and after the field exam, he'd been able to write them off as his anxious mind getting the better of him. Perhaps being saddled with so much responsibility on his first assignment had unnerved him to a similar degree. And yet, never had the stress become so overwhelming as to make him lose consciousness. The sensation had gradually built up from a slight headache to an unbearable piercing of the mind, its intensity swelling the more he'd fought. As he thought back on the episode however, he wondered if perhaps the experience had not been so unprecedented after all. The symptoms as he'd crawled his way into bed following the exam and experienced Laguna's trek through the forest had been the very same.

This is all too weird...

His pondering stalled as the door hissed open.

"Squall!"

Selphie bolted inside, coming to a rest beside him on the couch. Zell just as quickly rounded the corner into the cabin.

"Oh, shit, you're up!"

"Are you alright?" Selphie asked as she put her hand on his shoulder. "Zell told me you passed out! Are you feeling sick?"

"I… I think I'm okay," he muttered.

"I tried shaking you out of it, but you weren't responding," Zell explained. "I was gonna call the medical staff, but... well, considering the mission, I figured we oughta hold off until we were well on our way. They might've turned the train around to get you back if we told 'em too soon."

"Good thinking," Squall grunted. That his squadmates had kept their focus on the assignment was the best thing he could have hoped for.

"You still had a pulse, so that took some of the pressure off. Look, if you're not feeling well, let us know, okay? That scared the shit outta me."

"I'm fine," Squall assured him. "It's probably just stress. It's my problem, I'll deal with it."

"If you say so. Just remember, we're a team here."

"What he said!" Selphie agreed. "So, you hungry? We just got back from the dining car."

"I... guess," he sighed.

Squall rose to his feet as she relieved her hand from his shoulder. Whatever the cause of these persistent dreams, he'd be wasting his time trying to figure it out. With his first mission awaiting him in the morning, there were more important matters at hand. Most immediate was his rumbling stomach. It compelled him to the cabin door and out into the hallway. The ocean depths sped on by through the carriage windows, as the train raced ahead along the transparent underwater tunnel.

"To the right, and down three cars," Zell said as he stepped through into the hall. "You sure you'll be alright by yourself?"

"I told you, I'm okay!" he insisted.

His intuition told him otherwise. Just as with Laguna, it was all bluster to cover up his insecurity.

Great, I'm even starting to sound like that idiot now...

Chapter Text

The chilly morning breeze swept down the cobbled road. It mussed Squall's hair, prompting him to zip up his jacket for warmth. He sat on a public bench at the base of a stone staircase; an archway reading 'Timber – Balamb Line' stood at the top. The bustling city streets stretched before him, splitting off from the station square to form an intertwining network of twisting roads and alleys. Contrary to the city's name, its buildings were not constructed primarily of wood, but rather faded green stone. The old-world architectural style closely resembled Dollet's, the residual trace of an era long gone, when the land had been united under one flag. Routine patrols of Galbadian soldiers up and down the streets served as a reminder that such an era had come again.

The intercontinental express had pulled into the terminal right on time at 0600. Upon arrival, the trio had gathered their belongings, and exited onto the platform. Their forged ID cards had gotten them through station security without incident. From there, they'd proceeded down the steps to the station square, where they now waited for their contact to arrive. The information in the headmaster's file had specified 0700 as the meeting time. It was now almost an hour past then.

Selphie leaned against a nearby overlook with her arms slung over top. Another set of railroad tracks ran below; the morning express had rumbled through minutes earlier, emerging from the separate continental line terminals further along the station's length. Zell ambled back over from the nearby vending machine with a canned drink, and propped himself against the lamp post he'd left his duffel bag beside. In light of Squall's fainting episode, he seemed to have let their prior argument fall by the wayside.

Talk about a happy accident.

Growing increasingly restless, he reached for his own bag next to him. He unzipped it, and rummaged through the mass of tightly packed clothes until he found the sheathed gunblade. He withdrew it into his lap. The weapon's very touch and familiar weight comforted him, his one constant in the face of so much uncertainty ahead.

He pulled the weapon halfway from its scabbard, exposing the engraved lion's head. The emblem had been custom made to his specifications after passing his weapons certification; it was identical to the design on his pendant and ring. The strength, pride, and unwavering determination of the beast was his ultimate ideal. So it had been for as long as he could remember. He closed his eyes as he clutched the hilt tightly. In his contentment, he could almost hear a voice call to him.

"You need to be brave, to have a strong heart, like a lion. Promise me. If you can do that, you'll find her again…"

"The forests of Timber sure have changed, huh?"

Squall's eyes shot open. A young man with a blue bandanna had materialized from thin air beside him. He wore a tan vest over a white T-shirt, with baggy green cargo pants. He stood perpetually slouched forward with his hands in both pockets.

"But the owls are still around," he answered, sheathing the blade.

"Welcome to Timber, sir!" the man lit up.

He extended his hand. Squall made no effort to shake it.

"You're late. The meeting time was supposed to be 0700."

"Ah… sorry, sir. I've never been good with military time."

"0700 is just seven-o'-clock. And stop calling me 'sir'."

"Er… that's-"

"Hey!" Zell called across the square. "This the guy?"

He and Selphie traipsed over. The resistance operative swiveled to them, re-offering his hand.

"Yes, sir! My name is Watts, intel specialist. Pleased to meet you, sir. And miss!"

Squall's teammates accepted the handshake one after the other. He wasn't sure what to make of the young man, spastic and clunky as he was. Were his demeanor reflective of his faction, it did not bode well for the mission to come. He returned the gunblade to his bag and re-zipped it; there was surely no open-carry law in the city. Despite how vulnerable it made him, avoiding unwanted attention took precedence. There was always his GF to fall back on should the need arise to defend himself.

"Let's get moving," he said, rising from the bench.

"My thoughts exactly, sir!" Watts responded. "Right this way. It's going to be a bit of a hike."

He motioned down the adjacent street due west. As he marched ahead of them, Squall flashed his comrades a skeptical glance.

"Not the most punctual bunch," he quietly muttered.

"Ah, it was probably an honest mistake!" Selphie winked. "Still happens to me around the Garden."

"Yeah, don't be so quick to judge," Zell insisted. "I kinda like the guy."

Of course, you do.

The three tailed Watts through the Timber streets for the better part of an hour. They weaved their way among the hoards of passersby, keeping their distance from oncoming guard patrols as best they could. The traffic gradually thinned as the last trickling dregs of citizenry made their way to work. Various shops, pubs, and other establishments lined the streets, all crafted from the same ubiquitous stone.

Of particular note to Squall was a tall building with the title 'Timber Maniacs' printed above its doors. The name was plenty familiar, despite having never visited the city before. It was a renowned magazine publishing company, famous for a number of top-selling publications. He'd specifically taken interest in their 'battle series', dedicated to all things weapons-related; the Garden library kept the entire catalogue in stock. The company also served as a major outlet for various freelance and op-ed works, though had begun shifting away from them at Galbadia's behest in recent years; it was just another outlet for dissent to be sown among the people.

Before long, they'd trailed away from the inner city to the western outskirts. The cobbled streets gave way to rough, uneven pavement. The roads became narrower and less traveled. An increasing number of buildings stood boarded up and left to wither; those not condemned showed no signs of routine maintenance. The twisting trek took them down alley after dank alley. All the while, Squall's attention stayed fixed on his feet; plentiful potholes and all manner of refuse threatened to trip him up with each step.

"Doesn't look like the friendliest part of town," Zell observed.

"This used to be the city industrial sector, sir," Watts called back. "Timber's big export was always our lumber, and all kinds of goods produced from it. After Galbadia invaded, they burned most of the forests to the ground hunting down the resistance. And the whole trade went with it."

"That must have been awful," Selphie said.

"Yes, miss. The jobs-market crashed, the economy tanked, and a lot of good men and women went broke. We didn't just lose our sovereignty, we lost any kind of financial independence we had. That's what we're fighting for."

They emerged from the network of refuse-strewn alleys. A chain-link fence topped by razor-wire stretched far down the lane. A looming, rusted complex stood on the other side, its windows caked with years worth of grime, or shattered altogether. Watts fumbled with a clearly sheared-through portion of the fence, and drew the iron mesh back to form an opening.

Squall took the lead. He reached through to place his bag on the inside before maneuvering himself into position. He ducked his head low, taking care not to catch his jacket on the metal grating. A moment's wriggling, and he touched down on the other side. Zell came next, followed by Selphie; the clumsy girl nearly toppled over from failing to raise her boot high enough.

"We're so ugly you can't bring us through the front?" Zell joked.

"We can't afford to take any risks, sir," Watts explained as he righted the fence. "Barely anyone comes around these parts anymore, but the front gate's right on a major stretch of road. If someone sees us and reports it, we're finished."

He led them around to the rear of the complex, where a set of railroad tracks extended from the back of a large hangar-like extension. They arrived at a rusty side door; it swung open with a loud creak as Watts twisted the handle.

No lock? No guards? So much for not taking any risks.

They stepped through into a dimly-lit stairwell, the musky stench of mildew and corrosion driving Squall to wrinkle his nose. All went nearly pitch black as Watts closed the door behind them. Faint emergency lamps along the wall were their only illumination. They were far too few, providing too little light to operate by.

"I can barely see a thing!" Selphie complained.

"Sorry, miss," Watts apologized.

He unflinchingly stepped forward into the dark, suffocating hole. Squall carefully followed close behind. Just finding the first step was a challenge; once he found the railing, he was never letting go.

"The power lines were cut to this place long ago. All we've got is our own generator, and we need to make the most of what we get from it. Right now, it needs to go to our tech crew, so they can finish up preparations for tomorrow."

"What kind of preparations?" Squall asked.

"Why don't you take a look for yourself, sir?"

Slowly but surely, the four stumbled up to the landing and stepped through the doors at the top. They emerged onto an elevated steel catwalk overlooking a spacious hangar. Large bay doors stood at the rear, from which the train tracks progressed to the center of the room. There, a modified yellow locomotive idled; twin turbines were attached to its sides, with a cooling system on top to prevent overheating. Strangely, a painted red coach car was coupled to its front, rather than the back. Several technicians worked atop the backwards train with welding irons and face masks. Sparks flew as they touched up and sealed the metal paneling in place.

"Sirs!" Watts called down to them. The irons sputtered out as they raised their masks in acknowledgment. "The SeeDs have arrived to assist us!"

A choir of hooping and hollering sprung up. Squall frowned at their premature jubilation; he and his squad had yet to be told the specifics of the mission, and here these people were celebrating as though they'd already been freed from oppression.

"Welcome to the fight!"

The greeting came from a dark-haired man climbing up the nearby metal staircase; his face sported a goatee of the same shade. His pants were a dark navy, his shirt indigo. The tan hiking shoes were the only part of his attire not some shade of blue. He rose to meet them, and extended his hand.

"Name's Zone, leader of the Forest Owls. Good to have you aboard."

It was not out of respect that Squall accepted the handshake. Watts had already left a clear impression by showing up late; he needed to determine once and for all the caliber of client he was working for. Right away, he could tell how flimsy the man's grip was. What little confidence he had was shrinking fast.

"Squall," he half-sighed. "I'm the squad leader. This is Zell and Selphie."

"Nice to meet'cha!" Selphie beamed. The two shook his hand in turn.

"We were getting worried SeeD had ignored our request," Zone admitted. "Wouldn't be the first time. Or the fourth. As you can see, we're just putting the finishing touches on our train."

"What's it all for?" Squall impatiently asked. "We're still in the dark here, so let's get down to it."

"Sure thing. We've got a full diorama set up to go over the plan. But first, let's get you guys sorted. Watts, show them to their quarters. Meeting room in 10."

"What about our princess, sir?" the slouching boy asked. "Is she still napping?"

"She hasn't come down yet. I've still got a few things to look over on the car. 'Squall', was it? Could you do me a favor and go get her? Her room's on the top level. Up those stairs over that way. Turn right and head to the door at the very end of the hall. Can't miss it."

He gestured to a staircase further along the catwalk, stretching up beside a windowed office wing. Squall turned back to Zone, shooting him the most irritable glare he could fashion.

"Pardon me, but were we hired to run errands?"

"N-no, nothing like that," he flinched, backing away slightly. "You're not… angry, are you?"

Squall continued staring him down. The handshake alone had been enough to tell he was a pushover.

"Ow!" the rebel leader doubled over, clutching at his torso. "My stomach's acting up…"

Squall rolled his eyes; he'd heard enough cries of pain in his life, whether in training, or on the shores of Dollet, to recognize it was an act.

"This is the last time for this kind of thing," he declared. "Do we have an agreement?"

"Absolutely," Zone mock grunted. "Thank you."

He turned around, and started back down the stairs with haste.

"I'll take your bag, sir," Watts offered, his tone noticeably less cheery than before.

"No, you won't."

Squall unwound the duffel bag from his shoulder, and held it out to Zell. For however much it tore him apart to trust his gunblade to him, it was astoundingly the better option.

"Be careful with it."

Zell accepted the luggage without a word; the uneasy look in his eyes spoke for him. Squall took off down the catwalk to the staircase Zone had indicated. It stood near a door flanked by two bay windows; a wide office space with a long table rested inside, presumably the aforementioned meeting room. He climbed the stairs in silence, paying no mind to the ongoing project below.

The corridor at the top perfectly reflected the condemned building's exterior; its faded wallpaper had long since peeled away, exposing the mold-covered drywall behind. A bulletin board with many tattered pieces of paper hanging from it caught his eye. Most were old quarterly reports of sales figures. The one outlier was a cut-out Timber Maniacs article about an organization called 'Roshfall Lumber'.

He turned right to make his way down the hall. Several doors along the way hung open, seemingly without care, their interiors gutted of all but the most basic components. The company's collapse must have been swift, expectedly so given the rampant deforestation. He could perfectly envision the burning woodlands, the billowing smoke soaring high into the midday skies. So clear was the image, he could swear he'd witnessed it firsthand.

He reached the corridor's last door, and rapped on it twice.

"Come in…" a groggy moan answered.

Let's just get this over with.

He twisted the knob, and swung the door open. What awaited on the other side was almost too much for his eyes to take in. Relative to what else he'd seen of the building, the amount of work that must have gone into renovating this one room was ludicrous. Its walls and ceiling were coated in dark pink. Low-key lighting from the bedside table lamp provided a homey, romantic air. An elegant dressing table sat on the far side, with all manner of beauty supplies strewn across its counter. Beside it stood a mahogany dresser. Beside that, a queen-sized bed; its duvet and pillows perfectly matched the room's paint job.

A girl with long dark hair lay nestled within the covers. She tossed them off as he stepped inside. Evidently, she'd either slept in her clothes, or simply been taking a nap. She wore a sleeveless blue duster sweater over a black tank top. Her slender forearms bore matching blue warmers, with a black ribbon tied around her left bicep. A blue denim skirt hung over her black spats, leaving the rest of her toned legs bare.

Her tired eyes flitted as she brought her head up to meet Squall. They shot open in awe the next moment. Squall's own followed suit. His breath caught in his lungs. He knew this girl, beyond any doubt. The deep brown eyes, the rounded face, the caramel highlights in her hair; it was all as he remembered.

"You…" she finally eked out. "You're the one… from the ball. Does that mean…?!"

Squall sucked in a breath, and blinked twice to return his face to normal. No wonder he hadn't seen her around the Garden in the last week. All the same, what were the odds that he of all SeeDs had been dispatched on this assignment?

"Squall Leonhart, SeeD operative," he formally introduced himself. "My squadmates and I are here to assist your faction."

"Yes!"

She flung herself from the bed, grappling him into a tight hug. It took every bit of restraint he had not to knock her away; the leap had briefly registered as an incoming attack. He begrudgingly let her cling to him for a moment longer. Her arms trembled with excitement as they stayed wrapped around him.

"You came! SeeD really came!"

"Take it easy," he said.

He moved his hand to her shoulder. She took the hint, and slowly unfurled her grasp.

"Sorry," she blushed. "It's just, I'm so happy! I've been sending requests to Balamb Garden for more than 6 months now, and never got any reply. I'm so glad I went to speak with Cid in person!"

"Oh," Squall muttered; he recalled she'd been on the lookout for someone that night. "So, the person you were looking for at the ball was the headmaster?"

"Well…"

Her eyes abruptly dropped away from his. She backed up to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Yes, and no. Do you know Seifer Almasy?"

The very utterance of the name sent a shooting pain through Squall's gut.

"… yeah."

"I thought so. Seifer and I met each other last summer. I told him all about us and what we're fighting for, and he got really fired up about it. We kept in touch through the mail after that, sort of like pen-pals, I guess. I mentioned how I wasn't having any luck, and he swore he'd find a way to make it happen for me. About a month ago, he sent me a letter saying he could get me into the Garden as his date for the ball. I didn't realize he'd gotten put on the catering staff at the last minute, though."

As she chuckled, Squall cast his own memory back to his chance meeting with Seifer following the exam. He'd certainly been in high spirits for someone faced with punishment so severe. Apparently, his placement on the catering staff had been a blessing in disguise. For so-called 'pen-pals' however, the fond way she spoke of him suggested there was something more there.

"Anyway, I found him, and… he's got this scar on his face now, just like yours."

That really is going to haunt me to my grave, isn't it?

"So, are you guys, like, blood brothers or something?"

"No, nothing like that," Squall deflected; he stifled the urge to retch at the thought. "Just… wounds from training."

"I see."

A concerned look flashed across her face. It disappeared as she raised her eyes back up to him.

"Well, at any rate, it's nice to properly meet you… 'Squall', was it? My name's Rinoa… Rinoa Heartilly."

She gracefully extended her hand. He shook it without reservation. Watts had been unworthy, Zone unfit; for her, it was only proper after the dance they'd shared. She kept her clasp on his even after he released his fingers.

"I've gotta say, I didn't know SeeD members could dance so well," she teased.

"It's something we all practice during espionage training," he bluntly informed her. "Always approach your target inconspicuously at a dance party. It's one of many skills SeeDs are expected to learn."

"Oh… so it's work related."

She withdrew her hand with a disappointed look.

"That's too bad."

What does she want from me?

"But, anyway, Seifer helped introduce me to Cid. I wasn't sure what to expect from the head of Balamb Garden, but he's such a nice man, isn't he? I didn't have much hope he'd approve a contract for a measly little group like us. Once Seifer and I explained the situation though, he had it drafted up for us right away. With your help, we can finally take back this city!"

"On that note, let's get moving," Squall cut her off. "Zone asked me to come get you for the mission briefing."

"Ah, sure thing!"

Rinoa rose from the bed, and crossed to the dressing table.

"Just let me fix my hair real quick. Oh… and, uh, Squall? Is… he here, too?"

There was definitely something more there. Their personalities couldn't be further opposed from one another; Seifer was smug and arrogant, this girl cheery and naive. And yet, somehow the two had found common ground, and presumably formed a relationship. His rival's words from the field exam rang in his ears again.

"Someday, I'm gonna tell you about my romantic dream!"

His 'romantic dream', huh…

"No. He's not a SeeD. He didn't make the cut."

"He… he didn't?"

Rinoa averted her eyes again. The sting of deceit had struck true.

"That's… that's a shame."

She turned back to the table, her spirits now deflated. She reached for a brush, and ran it though her dark locks. As she lifted up her hair, Squall noticed a pair of white angel wing motifs stitched into the back of her duster sweater. Upon finishing, she picked up a slim chain necklace from the table; it was the same she'd been wearing that night, with a lone silver ring entwined through it. She threw it on over her head, slipped her feet into a pair of black, ankle-high boots, and turned off the lamp.

"The meeting room's on the second floor," she told him. "Let's go. We've got a lot to go over for tomorrow."

The two retraced Squall's steps back to the hangar. They descended the staircase to the windowed office wing; as expected, Rinoa led the way through the door. A grid of blocky indents stretched across the floor, implying the room had previously housed row after row of cubicles. It was now bereft of furniture save for a wide table with ten chairs. Zone, Watts, Zell, and Selphie all sat around it; their eyes all turned to them as they stepped inside.

"That's Zell and Selphie," he pointed his squadmates out to Rinoa. He moved to sit by their side as the three exchanged pleasantries.

A large diorama took up almost the entire table. It resembled a short stretch of woodland with three parallel rail-lines running through. Two model trains sat atop. The first on the middle set of tracks was a green locomotive with three passenger cars; the first and third in sequence were green as well, while the middle car was a hideous, hand-painted red. The second train rested on the upper line, just before a switch point connecting to the middle tracks; it consisted of another red passenger car in front, this one store-bought, with a yellow locomotive to the rear, obviously representative of the project being assembled in the hangar. The reason for its backwards coupling was still unclear.

"Looks like everyone's here," Zone announced from the head of the table. "So, let's get this briefing underway. To put it plainly, if this operation is a success, the Forest Owls will be forever known in the pages of Timber's independence."

"That big, huh?" Zell asked.

"You bet," Rinoa said. "It all started when we got hold of some top-secret info from Galbadia a few weeks ago."

"Gathering information is my specialty, miss!" Watts saluted.

"The long and short of it is this," Zone explained. "President Vinzer Deling will be coming into the city tomorrow morning on a private train from the capital. We're going to kidnap him before he gets here."

"Holy shit!" Zell blurted out in surprise.

"Exactly. That's why we desperately needed to hire professionals for this job."

How much are we doing this for, again?

"Everyone please take a look at the diorama. It's not built to scale, or completely accurate to the terrain, but it should give you a general idea."

That sure fills me with confidence.

"This might get a little confusing, so pay close attention. The yellow train on the top rail is our transport out in the hangar. The car coupled to it is a replica of the one the president will be traveling in. Let's call it the 'dummy car'."

"Question!" Selphie interjected. "Why's it attached to the front of the engine? Is that a mistake?"

"No, that's intentional," Rinoa assured her. "It looks weird, I know, but it's all part of the plan."

"Anyway, the president's train is the one on the middle rail," Zone continued. "It's made up of the locomotive and three passenger cars. Deling's is the red one in the middle. The other two have security on board; we'll call them the first and second escorts. Our objective is to disconnect the president's car from the rest of the train, link it up with ours, replace it with the dummy car, and escape back here."

"And how the heck does that work?!" Zell wondered.

Squall concurred. It would be one thing if the president's car were at the very end of the train; its position in the middle seemed to make their plan impossible.

"I'll show you in a moment. Our first matter of business is getting you three on the train. The route it'll be taking from up around Obel Lake runs through a tunnel in the side of a mountain. The openings each have a concrete support frame jutting out from above. We'll drop you off with climbing gear so you can get into position."

"You want us to jump onto a moving train?!" Zell shot up. "There's gotta be a better way!"

"There isn't."

"Well, then answer me this: even if we do make it on, aren't the guards gonna notice three huge thuds slamming down on the roof?"

"Uh…"

Zone shared a sideways glance with Watts, and then he with Rinoa. The faces of all three were flush with embarrassment. Squall's left eye twitched in disbelief; for all their confidence, or perhaps foolishness, that they'd made such a critical oversight was telling. Fortunately, there did exist a method for them to slow their momentum; that Zell hadn't considered it was owed to his own lack of aptitude with wind spellcraft.

"There's a way."

He unclipped the silver sphere from his belt, and held it up for all to see.

"Yeah, I was about to say the same thing!" Selphie chimed in. "Great minds think alike, huh?"

"That trick?" Zell moaned. "There's no way I can pull that off!"

"Guess you'll have to piggyback on Squall, then!"

How you can do it is the real mystery.

"Okay, so, we've figured it all out?" Rinoa jumped in; her bossy tone made it clear she was trying to salvage whatever she could of their image. "Let's get on with it, Zone."

"Right," he continued, motioning to the enemy train. "Once you're on board, you'll move across to the first escort car, and uncouple it from the president's car. You'll have to use the climbing gear to reach the control panel on the side. And it goes without saying to make sure no one sees you. We have it on authority Deling can't stand being surrounded by his guards, so there shouldn't be any on his personal car."

He reached over the diorama to move the train along to the first switch point. At the spot where the upper rail joined with the middle, he separated the front two cars from the back. A gaping opening was left between both halves. Rinoa took hold of the yellow locomotive and dummy car.

"Once the cars are disconnected, we'll move in and link our train with theirs."

She guided the smaller train down the switch point and into the gap, connecting the front of the dummy car with the first escort, and the back of the locomotive to the president's car. All six cars were now linked together on the middle rail.

"You've got to be joking!" Zell threw his arms up. "Do you know how exact you'd have to time the decoupling for this to work?!"

"O-our tech specialist, Blitz, has done all the calculations," Zone said in a shaky voice. "He's determined the exact point along the route where we need to detach the cars. The back half will slow down from wind resistance and the rails' friction, giving us just enough leeway to squeeze in. As long as we make it onto the line before the president's car passes the switch point, we can adjust our speed to catch up with the front half."

"We've prepared this for you to use," Rinoa said.

Her hand dipped into a drawer beneath the table, reemerging with a digital stopwatch hung from a neck strap. She rounded the table, and handed it to Squall. The display had been pre-set to a time: 2:23.00.

"Given the speed of a standard Galbadian express line, and the distance to the switch point, if you start the timer right when the train clears the tunnel, it should hit zero when you need to disconnect the cars. We've tested it with our own engine and the dummy car. It gave us a big enough gap."

"You're really hedging your bet on the speed of the train, though," Zell reminded her. "If it's off by even a little bit, your whole plan goes up in smoke. Literally."

"Then, so be it. We've put in too much work to pull out now. You three just do your job like we tell you, and leave the rest to us. We'll make it work."

It's only our lives you're toying with.

Zone cleared his throat; apparently, he was composed enough to speak again.

"Once the connection is established, we'll have to decouple the dummy car and second escort at the same time to make our getaway. The timing on that one shouldn't be as tight. Rinoa and some guys'll be up to assist. We'll pull out at the next switch point further down the line."

"What about the second escort?" Zell asked. "How's it going to catch back up with the rest of the train?"

"Not our problem," Rinoa said. "By the time it slows down enough for the guards to notice, we'll be long gone."

"If they don't notice your train right away," Squall finally spoke up. "These passenger cars have windows, don't they?"

"Sure. We haven't included it in the diorama, but there's enough trees between the tracks to keep us obscured."

"And what about the dummy car? What if someone decides to check in on the president?"

"Not an issue, sir!" Watts cut in. "I managed to get some photos of the real deal. The rest of the guys have remodeled the car's interior to match it. We've even installed a voice-activated recording in the bathroom; when someone speaks near it, it'll play a spliced clip telling them to leave him in peace."

"You really think anyone's gonna fall for that?" Zell asked.

Maybe if that idiot from my dreams were the one on duty.

"As long as we get in and out quickly, it won't make any difference," Zone deflected. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah," Selphie said. "It's not really an important one, though. I was just thinking… this diorama looks pretty good overall, but why does the president's car look so shabby?"

The amateurish paint job hadn't been lost on Squall either. In light of the suicide mission as it had just been detailed to them, he'd completely forgotten. Being hung up on something so irrelevant was unthinkable. Or rather, it would have been for anyone else he knew.

"Rinoa made that one herself, miss," Watts revealed. "We bought everything else at a gift store."

"Ha, I thought some little kid made it," Zell laughed.

"Oh, shut up!" Rinoa snapped. "I made it look that way on purpose! It's… it's supposed to be a symbol of my hatred for Deling, and everything he stands for!"

"Man, you must really hate him, then," Selphie quipped.

"Obviously. Let's just wrap this up. We'll review everything with the rest of the gang over dinner. And tomorrow, we finally end Deling's reign of terror!"

"Hear, hear!" Zone pumped his fist.

"Excuse me," Squall interrupted, rising up out of his seat. "Before we get ahead of ourselves… I'd like to have a look at the contract you have with our Garden."

"O-oh," Zone stammered; his determination had suddenly evaporated. "Well, about that…"

"Cid told me it would take a while to get the contract drafted up," Rinoa took over. "That he'd have to run it by the administration the next day. I had to hop back on the train first thing in the morning, so I asked if he could give me a written agreement of some kind. That's all we have."

Squall was beside himself. The headmaster couldn't have been in his right mind to go along with such an amateurish request. Just what had she and Seifer said to convince him?

"It'll do," he conceded.

At his request, Zone hastily rummaged through the table drawers. He withdrew a single sheet of office paper, and rounded the table to Squall's seat.

"Hope that clears up any questions," Rinoa said, standing up from her own seat. "See you at dinner. We'll be counting on you guys to make it all happen."

Depending on what this says, you might be doing it yourselves.

Squall impatiently snatched the leaflet from Zone's hand. The man scurried off after Rinoa and Watts as they took their leave back into the hangar. Zell and Selphie ambled over, each craning their necks in to read the memo. The handwriting on the page was the same Squall had seen on his exam report, with the headmaster's seal stamped beside his signature at the very bottom.

"Dear Rinoa," the text read. "I thank you for your vested and longstanding interest in hiring SeeD. In light of Timber's dire circumstances as you've informed me, I will see a squad of hand-picked operatives dispatched to assist you in your plans. Please note that as this is a special exception, no replacements or additional support can be provided. I wish you all the best with your endeavors.

"Sincerely, Cid Kramer, Balamb Garden Headmaster."

"That's it?!" Zell nearly blew a gasket.

This can't be all we have to go off of...

"Talk about vague," Selphie agreed. "But, what can we do? Looks like we've gotta follow whatever orders they give us, right? To uphold the Garden's reputation, and all."

"Still think I was too quick to judge?" Squall turned his ire to Zell.

"I… I just figured they'd have planned all this out better," he muttered.

"As soon as we're done here, I'm going straight to the administration. There's no way any of this was in the actual contract."

"Good call. So, wanna see our quarters? It's what you'd expect in a dump like this, but they've got bedrolls for us, at least."

Understanding there was nothing more he could do, Squall set the headmaster's writing down on the table, and wordlessly followed his squadmates out of the meeting room. All the while, he reflected on his reunion with Rinoa, and the ill-conceived mission he was to execute for her.

Stubborn, overly-ambitious… maybe they're not so different after all…

Chapter Text

The boy slouched against the cold of the great stone pillar. The pouring rain's white noise was all that kept him grounded to reality. It had drenched his tattered jeans, soaked his T-shirt, and matted his dark locks to his forehead. He remained immobile, numb to the raging storm, as still more water poured down his cheeks from his puffy eyes. There was no one that could comfort him now, nothing that could take away the pain. He was alone. She was gone.

"Sis," he sniffled, his young voice broken and whimpering. "Why… why'd you leave me? Where'd you go? I miss you… so much…"

"I can't believe we're about to try this," Zell grunted as he pulled himself up.

"I can," Squall said. "Doesn't make it any less absurd."

He unfastened the cable from the climbing harness beneath his intertwined belts. Selphie had already finished up ahead of them; she sat on the edge of the concrete outcropping, her legs dangling over the railroad tracks below.

It had been pitch-black upon their departure from the Forest Owls' hideout. Now, the first traces of coming sunlight threatened to clear the horizon within the hour. Squall only hoped the train would arrive before then; as far-fetched as the plan already was, its chance of success became all the more slim without the cover of darkness. He'd reluctantly left his gunblade with the Owls aboard their train, as had Selphie her nunchaku; the last thing he needed was his sheathed weapon clanging on the carriage as he moved across. As Rinoa had assured him, an adequate amount of trees lined either side of the railway. They thinned at sporadic intervals, still in the midst of a decades-long re-growth process.

Zell detached his own cable from his harness. He carefully coiled it up into the backpack they'd been provided.

"Well, I know I got a good night's sleep," he said sarcastically. "Who else is ready to be blown sky-high?"

"Aw, don't be such a pessimist!" Selphie playfully chided him. "That's Squall's job!"

"A pessimist is what an optimist calls a realist," Squall recited. "You're not the least bit concerned this could end in our deaths?"

"Of course, I am. But, I believe we can pull it off. As long as there's a chance, we've got to give it a shot, right?"

Remind me never to go gambling with you.

Very little of Squall's sleep could have been called sound. Their accommodations had been slap-dash, a trio of gutted former offices with bedrolls and leftover desks to organize their belongings on. Lack of proper back support, or head support via the under-stuffed pillow, made him long for his new bed at the Garden.

More pertinently, he envied the plush mattress the Owls' darling princess slept on. Her room's luxurious commodities stood in blatant contrast to the rest of the building; even the rooms of the other members were far more austere by comparison. It was a frivolous waste of resources. He knew not how Rinoa had come to join the faction, but could assume she'd come from a significantly more privileged upbringing than the rest. The irksome air of entitlement she carried only strengthened his hunch.

"I'm telling you, though," Zell moaned. "That float-technique thing, I've tried it over and over, and I can never get it down."

"I said it before, you'll just have to piggyback!" Selphie reminded him.

"Oh, come on! Spare a man his dignity, will ya?"

"How can you do it?" Squall finally broached the question. "It's an advanced technique. It's not something you can just pick up in a matter of days."

"Oh," she blushed. "Well, you see… we don't use GFs at Trabia, but we had classes in my transfer program where we went over the kinds of techniques SeeDs use. I just kinda took notes and, you know, put it to use once I got mine."

"Knowing how something works, and having the skill to do it are two different things."

"Beginner's luck, I guess?"

On second thought, maybe you're the ideal person to go gambling with.

If true, it would be the most unbelievably quick uptake in the history of SeeD; not even Quistis had been so prodigious. It beggared belief for this ditzy girl to show so much aptitude with seemingly no effort. She'd already demonstrated superb control of both wind and lightning spellcraft; while the two elemental schools did not conflict with one another, her competence with both made it difficult for Squall to guess which was her GF's native disposition. Either would at least provide a counterbalance to his and Zell's spheres.

"Well, let's hope some of that luck'll rub off on us," Zell said.

"I think Squall's caught a bit already," Selphie teased, rising to her feet.

"What are you talking about?" Squall asked; he did not take kindly to the impish spring in her voice.

"Oh, you know what I'm talkin' about, you dog!" she slapped him across the shoulder. "You think I didn't see you tearing up the dance-floor with a certain someone at the ball? I'm tellin' ya, this is a sign!"

"Seriously?" Zell perked his head up.

"She already has someone," Squall explained. "She was there looking for her date, so he could introduce her to the headmaster. That's how she got this contract filed in the first place. She just used me for a good time."

"Oh," Selphie sighed. "That's too bad. And you looked like you were having fun, too!"

"She dragged me into it. I only went along because I didn't want to cause a scene."

It was half true. He'd resisted becoming physical with her when she'd pulled him into the circle of dancing couples. Try as he might however, he couldn't deny the elation he'd felt as they'd waltzed, nor the sorrow of having it ripped away from him just as quickly. To learn that he'd been used in pursuit of his rival was to have poured salt on the still mending wound.

"That so?" Zell asked with a hint of ire. "Glad to hear she got that kind of consideration."

Don't start with me…

"So, who's the 'prince', then? Anyone I'd know?"

He's going to love this.

Squall opened his mouth, when a faint rumbling came into earshot. It emanated from the tunnel below. A blaring train horn followed, shattering the early morning silence. He spread his legs to steady himself from the oncoming vibrations.

"Sounds like it's showtime!" Selphie hollered.

"Get on!" Squall motioned to Zell.

He dropped to one knee, propping his hunched back to the blonde. As he did so, he reached down to activate the sphere on his belt. Zell reluctantly climbed aboard, and slung his arms around his neck.

"Not a word about this when we get back home!" he demanded. "We take this to the grave, got it?!"

"Be careful what you wish for!"

With his passenger secured, he rose back to his feet. He fumbled for the stopwatch around his neck, untangling the strap from his lion pendant. The operation's success would hinge on the exact timing the Owls had predetermined. Simulations and physics calculations assumed machine-like consistency, and could never account for human error. Theoretical possibility did not necessarily mean something could be replicated in practice. They were about to find out if this was indeed one of those cases.

The rumbling drew ever closer. Squall's thumb hovered just over the pause switch as he waited for the locomotive to emerge. The horn sounded again, now almost directly beneath his feet. He rushed forward as fast as he could with Zell on his back. Selphie sprung into motion beside him. They reached the lip of the concrete frame just as the train shot from below. He engaged the stopwatch, and leapt with all of his might. He focused the energy into his legs as he'd trained, willing it to form a flotation buffer. They rapidly decelerated just before colliding with the roof of the second escort. Squall touched down with both feet, and immediately hunched forward to steady himself with one hand.

Zell unfurled his hold, and clambered off. The rushing wind whipped through Squall's hair as he brought the timer up in his free hand. He squinted at the display: 2:10, 2:09…

He glimpsed back over his shoulder to his teammates, and motioned ahead. They fought their way against the perpetual gust, inching forward as quickly as they could. All the while, he took care not to stomp too loudly on the car; there was only so much excess noise the guards inside would be willing to brush off. He reached the fore of the car, peered down into the divide to be sure there were no sentries, and gingerly stepped across to the president's car. The first glimmers of sunlight had peeked over horizon, lighting up the trees whizzing by on either side.

1:36 ,  1:35 …

"I'll handle this!" Zell half-yelled as they reached the other side.

He unzipped his backpack to retrieve the cable from within. He hurriedly clipped it back to his harness, and threw the other end to Squall.

"Give me your stopwatch!"

Squall obliged, handing it off in exchange for the cable. He strung the other end to his own harness, linking them together.

"Selphie, keep watch for me, okay?" he asked as he threw the stopwatch over his head.

"You bet!"

The girl hopped over the gap to the first escort, falling to her knees as she peeked out over the edge. Zell slowly backed up to the left side. Squall shuffled back opposite him to extend the cable as much as he could. The blonde carefully eased himself over. His comrade's hanging weight forced Squall to tighten his grip, and bend his knees. Inch by inch, he gradually let the rappel slip beyond the clasp of his black gloves.

His cadet studies had included a seminar on various models of modern transportation, for the purposes of both operation and sabotage. Standard-issue Galbadian carriages featured an automated coupling system made up of two flexible, retractable steel spokes to the front. Both were magnetized, designed to bind upon insertion into the matching slots on the rear of the car ahead. The control panel rested on the front-left exterior of each car, kept out of reach of passengers in the midst of a journey. It was now up to Zell, literally hanging by a thread, to retract them as soon as the timer hit zero, and sheer dumb luck that a guard on the first escort didn't look out and see him.

The minute slithered by all too slowly. Squall's heart pounded in his chest. His heels dug into the metal canopy. His hands gripped the cable with all his might. Below, supported only by the harness and his feet pressed to the side, Zell's outstretched hand hovered in front of the panel. Selphie had yet to alert either of them; by some miracle, the operation seemed to be going according to plan.

Don't get complacent. This is the most unpredictable part.

Zell jabbed the panel with lightning quick reflexes. A distinct pair of thunks sounded from below as the spokes retracted. On cue, Selphie picked herself up, and crossed back over before the gap could sufficiently widen. Squall maintained his grip on the cable, fighting to ignore the lactic acid building in his muscles. To perform the re-connection with the Owls' own locomotive, the spokes needed to be re-engaged once enough distance had been cleared.

"Let me help," Selphie insisted.

She took hold of the cable with him. What meager upper body strength she possessed compared to Squall was still a welcome contribution, easing the burden on his own arms slightly.

The divide between the train's two halves opened up, gradually widening as both friction and wind resistance took effect. After a few more seconds, the dual thunks sounded from below again. Squall and Selphie slowly backed up. They put the utmost care into each step as they pulled Zell up the side, the wind threatening to sweep them off at a moment's notice. His blonde head of hair finally poked over the edge. He hoisted himself over, wiping the sweat from his brow and removing the rappel from his harness. Squall detached it from his own, and wound it up.

"It's out of our hands now," Zell sighed. "Thanks for the assist, guys. Hard to believe it's gone so smoothly."

"It's weird," Selphie hummed. "I didn't see a single guard on that car. I peeked my head right over for a sec, and there was no one inside."

"No one?" Squall repeated with unease.

"Seriously?!" Zell's jaw dropped. "The Owls said there'd be security on both! What gives?!"

"Have we got the right train?" Selphie worried.

Squall slung the coiled wire around his shoulder, and knelt down. He reached into his jacket's pocket to procure a small handheld mirror. He angled it over the edge to peer in through the windows of the president's car. Regal drapery was drawn across each pane of thick, bulletproof glass.

"I could've told you the curtains were closed," Zell said.

Something's not right…

"Here they come!" Selphie called.

Squall spun around. Through the thinning trees on the other side, the Forest Owls' yellow locomotive roared down the tracks. It pushed along the dummy car to its front. With the genuine article now on hand to draw comparison, the fake's paint job was noticeably brighter. If what Selphie claimed was true however, it no longer mattered. All that did matter now was if the driver could make the tight squeeze. He watched wide-eyed as the Owls' train shot ahead to the switch point, and held his breath.

The dummy car swiveled onto the connecting tracks. It twisted along the curve, emerging just behind the first escort as it cleared the intersection. The yellow engine swooped in behind moments before the president's car reached it. It slowed ever so slightly to let the back half catch up. Seconds later, the magnetized spokes audibly connected.

"It worked!" Selphie celebrated.

"Barely!" Zell exhaled. "I thought I was gonna have to change my pants for a second."

Squall too released his breath, awestruck at their turn of luck. Or was it in fact skill? Perhaps he'd been too quick to judge their clients after all. Perhaps Zone, Watts, and Rinoa were far more competent and calculating than he'd given them credit for.

No, this is all just one gigantic fluke.

"Awesome job!"

The voice came from the front of the president's car. Rinoa climbed up the steel-runged ladder on the rear of the yellow locomotive. Her long black hair whipped in the billowing breeze, as did her blue duster sweater; how she could think the outfit appropriate for such a mission baffled Squall. A pair of Forest Owl operatives in khaki camo followed her up.

"We've got about 3 minutes 'till we reach the next switch point!" she yelled. "We need to decouple both ends at the same time. Grat and Raldo will keep lookout."

"Selphie says there's no one on board the first car," Squall informed her.

"Even better! Let's get moving."

"That doesn't strike you as odd? Kidnapping a world leader shouldn't be this simple."

"You call what I just did simple?!" Zell cut in.

"You heard what Zone said," Rinoa ignored him. "Deling hates being surrounded by his guards. Come on, we're wasting time! Let's just finish this up, and make our getaway. Selphie, you head over and help the guys with the decoupling up front. They've got their own rappel gear. Squall, Zell, you're with me."

"Yes, ma'am!" Selphie saluted.

She leapt back across to the locomotive, and continued down its length with the two Owls. Squall reluctantly followed Rinoa in the opposite direction, back across the president's car. The pit in his stomach continued to grow as they crossed over to the second escort. He brought his mirror back out to peer inside the windows. True to Selphie's account, the cold steel interior was completely vacant. He shifted the reflection left and right; still, there was no sign of anyone on board.

This is all wrong…

"No one home?" Zell said.

"How much do you trust the intel you got for this operation?" he asked Rinoa.

"Watts has never let us down before," she insisted. "You two get into position. Raldo will signal me when to hit the switch."

"Here we go again," Zell moaned.

Squall handed him one end of the cable from around his shoulder. The two re-fastened it to their harnesses, and proceeded to replicate the previously successful formation. Zell lumbered down the side of the carriage quicker than before; there was no more need to be mindful of making noise. Squall gripped the cable with Rinoa, lowering it steadily.

"We're going to have to pull him up fast," she said. "We've got to get back across before the car fully separates. Then we'll be home free."

Something tells me it won't be that easy.

"A response would be appreciated!"

"Affirmative," he obliged.

This operation had no business going as well as it was. The absence of security made their chance of detection nonexistent, and their insertion via flotation buffer unnecessary in hindsight. Such traveling conditions were far too lax for the president of Galbadia. The more Squall mulled over the troubling discrepancies, the more he became convinced that the Owls had somehow been duped.

"Now!" Rinoa shouted down.

They started pulling the moment he heard the spokes retract. Zell scurried up, his feet pounding on the side of the carriage. He reached the top, and hurriedly unclipped the cable from his harness. Squall did the same. He coiled it and followed the two over the gap, noticing Selphie and the two Owls racing towards them atop the yellow locomotive.

Off to the side of the tracks, a lone figure stood by the rail switch up ahead. The Galbadian engine roared past, pulling with it the first escort and dummy car. The man operated the switch by hand as soon as it went by. The Owls' locomotive diverted down the curved offshoot with the president's car they stood on. Looking back, Squall saw him return the mechanism to its default position before the straggling second escort passed. It kept rolling straight ahead after the rest of the train.

"We did it!" Selphie cheered.

She high-fived the two Owls in celebration. Squall shared a sidelong glance with Zell, who was clearly every bit as skeptical.

"Told you it'd all work out," Rinoa boasted, grabbing hold of the ladder. "We'll confront Deling as soon as we're back at base."

"I'd advise against that," Squall spoke up. "We need to check the car, now. For all we know, there could be a bomb inside."

"You think so?" the young man named Raldo asked.

"It's the only thing that makes sense. Why else would there be no guards on the train?"

"I'm with Squall," Zell agreed. "There's something sketchy here."

"Fine," Rinoa conceded. "Grab your gear, and we'll head on in together."

She dropped from the ladder, and opened the locomotive's rear door. One by one, they descended the rungs to enter. The interior was rusted and worn down; the engine must have been decommissioned for years before the Owls salvaged it. Squall unwound his belts to remove the harness underneath, and made for his weapon set beside Selphie's against the wall. After checking the revolver attachment was fully stocked with ammunition, he clipped the gunblade to his left side.

"You two stay back here," Rinoa ordered her fellow Owls. "I'll call you if we need backup."

"Yes, ma'am!" the two saluted.

"Everyone ready?" she turned to the SeeDs with her hands on her hips.

"Let us take the lead," Squall advised.

He moved ahead of her, and slid the door open. What remained of the woodlands whizzed by in a blur of muted green on either side. He stepped across the coupling to stand beside the red car's doorway. Selphie held her jangling nunchaku before her, Zell his studded knuckles. The blonde had removed his own harness, his legs spread apart in anticipation. Rinoa stood to their rear, armed only with her determined stare.

"On three," he said, drawing his gunblade.

He reached over to grab the door's handle, and rocked it back and forth ever so gently to check it was not locked.

"One… two… three!"

He yanked the door ajar. Zell rushed inside without hesitation, Selphie on his heels. Squall swung himself around the frame right after her, rapidly darting his eyes from one end of the red carpet to the other. The drapery drawn across the windows blocked out any outside light; the orange lamps set between were the cabin's only illumination. To their right stood a stocked mahogany liquor cabinet with a small bar. Further ahead were a pair of white-cushioned love seats across from one another. A portly, middle-aged man in a dark suit sat on the seat facing them, his head drooped forward as though he were asleep.

"It's… really him?" Zell whispered.

"No guards here, either?" Selphie hummed. "None of this makes sense."

Squall's eyes scanned over every inch of the cabin again. There were no tripwires running across the floor, no cameras mounted on the walls, no sign of movement, and no sound save for the whipping wind to their backs. The leader of a nation sat before them, sound asleep and unguarded. It was unthinkable.

"All clear?" Rinoa whispered into his ear. "I'd like to begin negotiations."

He begrudgingly stepped aside to let her by. The tail of her duster sweater gently swayed as she strode down the cabin's length. She stopped as she came to the rear of the opposing love seat.

"President Vinzer Deling! You are currently a hostage of the Forest Owls. You have nowhere to run. Cooperate with us, and we swear no harm will come to you."

Seconds passed in silence. Deling stayed motionless in his seat.

"President Deling! Are you listening?!"

Still, no response.

"Is he… dead?" Selphie spoke up. "Like, maybe he had a heart attack?"

Rinoa circled the elegant furniture to inspect their hostage. Squall carefully inched forward as she did, his gunblade held aloft. The president remained still as the corpse he resembled as she placed her fingers to his neck.

"Nothing," Rinoa exhaled in disbelief. "He really is dead."

"Well, fuck me!" Zell blurted out. "So, what now? Mission accomplished?"

"I…"

Her mouth hung open. Of every possible outcome, this was one she'd clearly never anticipated. Neither had Squall; he was still stuck on how easily they'd gotten away with abducting him to begin with.

"I… guess so," she finally answered. "All we can hope for now is that his successor's an improvement. Let's just figure out how we're going to dispose of the-"

A sickening noise akin to bones snapping cut her off. Squall immediately shifted his attention back to Deling's body, to be met with a truly horrifying sight: the president's neck had twisted a perfect 90 degrees to the right. His open, lifeless eyes stared directly at Rinoa beside him, seeming to glow with an unnatural orange light. The girl shrieked as she took notice, and fell backwards onto the floor. His jaw suddenly unhinged, allowing his mouth to part wider than a normal human's. A monstrous roar shook the cabin as he lunged for her.

"Move!" Squall yelled.

Rinoa rolled sideways. The president landed with a thud where she'd just laid. His fingers dug deep into the carpet, shredding it to ribbons as though he were a feral beast. Squall charged in with his weapon raised. Deling craned his neck to him with another unsettling snap, and pounced for him on all fours. With a pull of the gunblade's trigger, his left arm flew through the air. Another inhuman howl reverberated through the carriage as Rinoa shimmied her way out of danger.

"What the hell's going on?!" Zell shouted.

Deling writhed in agony as he rose back up to stand on two feet. Squall prepared to rush in for another strike, when the president's features suddenly contorted into a foul mishmash of grey and red.

The aging man's face was now a wicked skull with gnarled teeth, and the same fiery eyes of pure evil. His hair receded into an increasingly deformed cranial structure. His muscles swelled, bursting at the seams of his clothes. The suit was finally torn to shreds as a mass of bloodied organs burst from the chest and stomach cavities, sagging limply across the torso. A tree trunk sized appendage with spiked tendrils regenerated in place of the left arm, smashing the love seats to splinters as the monster flailed its new limb. It took every ounce of fortitude Squall had not to vomit.

"Now I've seen it all!" Zell reeled.

"I think I'm gonna hurl!" Rinoa agreed from behind.

"Looks like it's about to!" Selphie yelled.

The disfigured creature had opened wide its jagged maw. A squelching bubbled up from its esophagus, sounding no different to Squall than the malboro had just before spitting its acid. He immediately conjured a protective barrier, pouring in more energy than usual to accommodate for a greater incoming mass. It shimmered into being just as the monster hocked its bile at him. The acid reflected off, splattering across the carriage wall.

"Zell, Rinoa!" he called over his shoulder. "You two decouple the car! Selphie, you're with me!"

"That'll take too long!" Zell said. "We don't have time to rappel down the side again!"

"Then break the connectors! Just hurry!"

They bolted back out the door, leaving him and Selphie to face down the deformed abomination. He charged forward, sinking his blade into its thick left arm. His eyes widened as the weapon stuck into its flesh. He'd pulled the trigger, which should have allowed it to slice through almost any earthly matter with relative ease; it had barely sunk halfway into the bulging mass of veins. The monster shrieked as it battered him away. The force sent him careening backwards into the mahogany bar. He grit his teeth in pain, falling to his knees. The liquor cabinet followed suit, bringing with it a racket of shattering glass bottles.

He raised his head to Selphie, her hand outstretched to the monster; a ball of fire hovered within her grasp. He instantly disregarded every ounce of pain shooting through his back.

Wind, lightning, and fire?! How many does she know?!

The blast shot from her palm. It set the creature ablaze on impact, its howling growing more frantic. A high-pitched mechanical beeping joined in on the cacophony; evidently, the fire had triggered the on-board smoke detector. Water poured down from the sprinklers set into the ceiling. Selphie rushed over to his side with her nunchaku in one hand, and extended the other to him.

"Let's go!" she urged.

He took her hand, and sprinted back to the doorway with her. Zell stood on the other side; his legs straddled the two cars as he reached down through the divide. He'd apparently attempted to use his GF's strength to bend the spokes out of place. They were frayed, yet still connected. A visibly shaken Rinoa stood in the doorway of the Owls' train, the two young men by her side.

"What's taking so long?!" Squall demanded. "Step aside!"

He shoved Zell back over to the locomotive, ignoring the blonde's protests. Selphie crossed over after him. Squall stepped onto the edge, and pivoted around. He whipped his gunblade into a reverse grip, and dangled it over the gap with both hands. With his left thumb against the trigger, he thrust down with all of his might. The blade sheared through the already weakened spokes as the monster lumbered to the door.

"What the hell is that?!" Grat yelped.

"Don't just stand there!" Squall yelled back. "Tell the driver to gun it!"

The young man bolted to the front of the locomotive as the creature ducked its head under the doorway. It emerged onto the fore of the president's car, and raised its giant tendril to strike at the group. They were all too tightly clustered together, with no room to dodge. Squall raised his weapon to meet the incoming blow. His heels ground on the steel as the pummeling pushed him to one knee. All the while, the gap between the two cars began widening at an agonizingly slow rate.

Just a little longer!

At that moment, a burst of shimmering white light shot past his head. It collided with the monster's torso, eliciting a furious roar as it was forced back. Squall lowered his gunblade, and looked over his shoulder. Selphie stood with her hand outstretched and eyes trained forward; her expression reflected absolute focus. A small, pale green rabbit with a ruby ingrained into its forehead sat atop her dripping hair. The gemstone charged up with a brilliant white energy, prompting Squall to shield his eyes.

Just then, the ground beneath his feet jerked. The train suddenly sped up, pulling away from the still reeling monster. He reached out for the locomotive's rear railing, clinging on for dear life, and turned back to see a massive blast of light shoot forth from the tiny familiar. The gleaming energy soared across the divide to reach the red coach car. It exploded in a blaze of orange flame and shrapnel, utterly obliterating the monster aboard. Black smoke billowed from the wreckage, wafting into the early morning sky. Squall could only look on in amazement; his mind refused to accept what his eyes had just witnessed.

Selphie's mastery of the flotation-buffer technique puzzled him. Her proficiency with three different schools of elemental spellcraft left him stunned. For her to have summoned and maintained her Guardian Force in a matter of weeks however was beyond anything he'd ever seen in his life; it had taken him a full year of rigorous training to do the same. Furthermore, to learn her sphere's disposition was of the rare holy element was truly astounding. It was a multifaceted element, one possessing powerful offensive and defensive capabilities, and even the ability of rejuvenation if harnessed properly. Because its nature did not run counter to any particular school of spellcraft, an experienced wielder could potentially conjure any other element in turn, as well. Of every SeeD in the history of Balamb Garden thus far, only Commandant Xu possessed another of its kind.

"Booyaka!"

Selphie's victory cry snapped him back to his senses. The familiar atop her head faded away in a flash of light just as quickly. Together, they all filed back into the yellow locomotive, and shut the door.

"That… was freakin' awesome!" Zell cheered.

"Absolutely," Rinoa forced a smile. "Thanks, Selphie."

"Aw, it's nothing," she bashfully grinned. "Let's just be glad we all made it out in one piece."

Who is this girl, really?

Chapter Text

"So, it was a decoy all along," Zone grumbled from the head of the meeting room table.

"'Decoy' is one way of putting it," Zell quipped. "I'm gonna be seeing that thing in my nightmares for weeks!"

I'll trade you for the ones I've been having lately.

Squall could sympathize with Zone's disappointment; their plan, though flawed from the start, had gone off perfectly. For all their work to have come to naught must have been a huge blow to his self-confidence. Watts had likewise been crushed to learn the information he'd gathered had been planted; he'd silently left the hideout a half-hour earlier to scour the streets for rumors.

"What even was that thing?" Rinoa asked. "It's like it was made to take the president's form. How does Galbadia have something like that?"

"Maybe… it was some kind of super gross-looking GF?" Selphie guessed.

"Impossible," Squall shot the idea down. "GFs are produced exclusively for SeeD; the Garden's contract with Odine Industries ensures that."

"Yeah, but…"

She paused, seeming uncertain of what to say.

"But, what if Galbadia found a way to make their own somehow?"

"Not a chance," Zell cockily answered. He brought up his own silver sphere for all to see. "I've been trying for years to figure out what makes these things tick. Tried disassembling mine a few years back; I wanted to get a better look at the interior material. Didn't go so well. Turns out the energy goes haywire when you strip away too much of the protective casing."

"It knocked out all the electrical circuits in our wing of the dorms," Squall reminded him. "We didn't have hot water for a whole week."

"You're still mad about that?"

Zell's hands shot up in mock defense. Selphie chuckled; the girl's spirits seemed to be returning.

"Anyway, if it were a GF, it'd need someone there to control it, right? The creature can't stray too far from its power source."

"I'm not really following this talk about 'GFs', or whatever," Rinoa cut in. "But, are you saying there might be a rogue agent involved in this?"

"He's saying if there were, they'd have been on the carriage as well," Squall explained. "And if that were the case, they should've shown themselves once they'd sprung the trap, or at least by the time we made our escape."

"None of this makes sense!" Selphie moaned, putting her hand to her head. "It couldn't have been a GF, plain and simple. Can we please just forget I brought this up?"

If there's one person here I'd suspect…

"Whatever the case, it was all a setup, and we were stupid enough to take the bait," Zone grumbled. He balled his fist in frustration, and slammed it down on the table.

"So, what do we do now?" Rinoa asked, rising from her seat. "I'm not about to just let this go. We've given too much for today to end in failure. I say we-"

"Sir!"

Squall turned his head to the door. Watts stood in the frame, panting and perspiring.

"New… info!" he wheezed. "For real this time! The president's… coming in… by chopper! Nine-o'-clock! He's… headed for… the TV station, just like we heard!"

"TV Station?" Squall repeated. The gears in his head began turning; a pair of disjointed pieces slowly clicked into place.

"By chopper?!" Zell spluttered. "Aircraft haven't been used since the radio interference started!"

"They've developed new, experimental navigation technology now," Zone clarified. He reached down under the table as Watts stumbled to his seat. "State-of-the-art, AI operated. The army's started implementing it on some of their newest weapons, and for the guidance systems on their long range ballistic missiles. It's all in here."

His hand reemerged with a black magazine. He slid it down the length of the table into Zell's waiting glove. The blonde raised it to his face, briefly inspecting the cover before opening it. Selphie peered over his shoulder to scan the pages with him. Squall trained his eyes to the bulky red text on the cover: 'Anarchist Monthly, Vol. 4'.

"This is an actual publication?!" Selphie gasped at the contents.

"Was," Rinoa corrected her. "It only lasted four issues. Then the government stepped in. They told Timber Maniacs they'd be shut down if they didn't hand over the writer. He's locked up in the D-District Prison out west, now."

"With the kind of dirt that's in here, can't say I'm surprised," Zell spoke solemnly. He closed the magazine, and set it back down on the table. "So much for freedom of the press, huh?"

"Not in this city," Zone affirmed.

"So, what's this about a TV station?" Squall steered the conversation back on track.

"We learned that's the whole reason Deling's coming to Timber in the first place. He's going to make a broadcast of some kind. What I don't get is why he needs to come all the way out here. Surely he could do it right from the capital."

"I've read up about that station before," Zell spoke up. "It's one of the few left that hasn't totally gutted its wireless radio systems, right?"

Bulls-eye.

"Yeah, for all the good that does nowadays," Rinoa scoffed.

Zell's eyes turned across the table to Squall. The two shared a look of mutual understanding.

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

"Has to be," Squall agreed. "The timing's too close."

"What is?" Rinoa darted her eyes between them. "If you know something, then spit it out!"

"You know the siege on Dollet two weeks ago? We were on the ground there. We learned that Galbadia's objective was to capture the abandoned communications tower in the mountains, and reactivate it. The ceasefire was called on the condition it stayed up and running."

He deliberately neglected to mention how the three of them had nearly shut the tower down themselves, and sent the entire ceasefire up in flames. There was also the matter of he and Seifer having effectively given the same treatment to Quistis' teaching career, as well. He was man enough to accept the blame without Zell's constant pestering. What he could not accept was that it had been the wrong choice in the heat of the moment. Every recollection came with an unsettling mental dissonance, tearing him between his duty as a SeeD, and his own code of ethics. He now longed for any memory of that day to stay buried in the depths of his subconscious, along with every moment of weakness he'd ever lived.

"I get it," Zone hummed. He brought his hand up to his goateed chin. "The station combined with a powerful enough transmitter… even with the interference, it might be enough to send off a short broadcast, even to places without HD cabling."

"As if anyone's gonna have their TV set up to receive radio waves!" Selphie blurted out. "Who's he think is gonna be standing by to see it?"

"Only one way to find out," Rinoa said. "It's got to be something big for him to go this far out of his way. We need to get down there and figure out what's going on. Or… better yet, we could hijack the broadcast for ourselves! Let the people know Timber is still standing strong!"

"That's a brilliant idea, miss!" Watts broke his silence. "We could have the first radio wave broadcast in 17 years be Timber's declaration of independence!"

"And I take it we're coming along for the ride?" Squall sulked. He no longer had the patience nor will to point out their idea's impracticality; the headmaster's imprecise wording had already doomed him and his comrades to their fate.

"Hey, I thought you were paid professionals?" Rinoa scolded him. "No complaining! Now come on, let's get down to the TV station."

"I'll lead the way, miss!" Watts volunteered. "The city's crawling with patrols, but if we take the back streets, we should be able to make it there without drawing attention. You're coming too, right, sir?"

"Ow!" Zone doubled over, clutching his midriff. "My stomach's acting up again!"

Forget being trapped in a moron's body. This is what hell really is…

The trek to the city's downtown district was long, and rife with detours; Watts had led them on through winding back alleys and sparsely frequented side streets for more than an hour. They'd eventually retraced the previous morning's route back to the train station, where an entire platoon of soldiers gathered in the square outside the Timber-Balamb terminal had forced them to take the long way around.

In general, the number of guards now patrolling the streets had increased from the day before. Their presence brought the morning commute to a virtual standstill; blaring horns and revving motors coalesced into a full automotive symphony against the quaint, old-world buildings the five slunk between. Soon enough, the whipping of helicopter rotors entered the arrangement. They drew closer, prompting Squall to raise his head. A sleek black chopper passed overhead, momentarily blotting out the sun as it moved due east.

"There he goes!" Rinoa shrilled. "We've got to get moving!"

"Sorry, miss!" Watts apologized. "It's hard to make headway with so many patrols about."

I'd bet our hijacking attempt didn't help there.

Squall carried his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He had left his unpacked clothes back at the hideout to make room for his gunblade and Selphie's nunchaku inside. The route Watts had taken them on, while slow, had nearly rendered the precaution unnecessary; the irregularity with which they'd crossed a patrol was laudable. Much to his own surprise, Squall soon found himself warming to the over-eager young man. Irritating though he was, he knew the city streets inside and out.

The group at last came to an alley running along the rear of a large pub. They took cover behind a cluster of rusted steel barrels, and peered out into the circular plaza ahead. The towering TV station loomed to the left, its exterior a stark contrast to the city's antiquated architecture; the gleaming blue and gold color palette resembled Balamb Garden's own. A small squad of soldiers with rifles stood before the glass-paned entrance. Above, a massive monitor was situated on the side of the building. The screen showed only a mishmash of static interference and random alpha-numeric characters, its speakers outputting a continual stream of white noise.

"That's… kinda freaky," Rinoa muttered as she stared up at the swirling hodgepodge. "What the heck causes this, anyway?"

"No one really knows," Zell said. "Supposedly, it just started up outta nowhere one day, and hasn't stopped since. There's a theory, though… that maybe Esthar was developing some kind of advanced electromagnetic bomb that went haywire."

"You're talking about that huge crater up near the Vienne mountains, right?" Selphie jumped in. "My class at Trabia went on a field expedition out there a few years back. It's a total wasteland for miles, and swarming with monsters. There's no way to cross into Esthar from it."

"Yeah, and unless they decide to re-open their borders, we're never gonna get a straight answer. Whatever it was, it must've been one hell of a weapon to make a blast that big. Really makes you wonder what's been going on over there."

Or why the conflict stopped in the first place.

"Let's keep our focus on the mission," Rinoa reminded them. "So, how're we getting in?"

You're asking us?

"Looks pretty tightly guarded, miss!" Watts observed. "There's no way we'll be able to storm in through the front. I'll circle around and check the rear."

The young man turned tail to make his way back along the alley. He cut a sharp turn down an intersection, and disappeared.

"We really can't just rush in, huh?" she sighed. "I guess… we just wait? Maybe once Deling's finished, the guards'll leave with him. Then we can get in there and do our broadcast. It might not make as big an impact, but it's better than nothing, right? I mean, there's no way we'd stand a chance if we took 'em head on, right?"

Who is this 'we'?

Sneaking inside with the president about to take the stage was an impossibility. Beyond the squad at the entrance, there was bound to be an even greater security detail within the station itself. Deling would surely be evacuated long before they reached the broadcast studio, provided they could even make it there; they would be severely outnumbered on all sides in a cramped indoor environment. Rinoa's involvement only complicated the matter.

Most worrying of all was the lack of any discernible plan of action. Even the train hijacking plot, though ill-considered, had provided Squall and his teammates as much. A mercenary's role was to execute the orders relayed by his employer. In the face of such gross incompetence however, Squall's tolerance was rapidly reaching a boiling point.

"We'll engage based on your decision," he spoke dryly. "You tell us to go, we go, even if it's a losing battle. That's our duty."

"Well, doesn't that sound like a winning attitude," Rinoa huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "It's your 'duty'? What an easy life it must be to follow orders blindly."

"Call it what you want. You hired SeeD, and we were sent to assist. That's it. With the way your faction operates though, I'd say you're beyond help."

"Excuse me?!"

Rinoa's eyes widened in disbelief. Squall averted his own.

"Squall!" Selphie chastised him, tugging the sleeve of his jacket. "That was so uncalled for!"

"If you have something to say, then say it!" Rinoa demanded.

"Just forget it," he dismissed her. He jerked his arm away from Selphie's prying. "It's none of your business."

"You started it. Tell me. This is an order… an order from your client!"

"This is an order from your captain, Squall. Now, do as you're told!"

It all suddenly made sense. When he'd first learned of their relationship, Squall could not understand what had drawn two personalities so diametrically opposed together. He had eventually noticed the similarities in their stubborn demeanor and delusions of grandeur, but still, the linchpin had eluded him, until now. They were both prone to arrogance at the very whiff of power, and had no qualms about using it to abuse their subordinates as they saw fit. Upon closer examination, it was little surprise at all; they were practically perfect for one another. Together, they embodied everything Squall despised to his very core.

"Alright," he grumbled, staring daggers at her. "How serious are you? Really? For a group with such lofty ambitions, it doesn't show in your work ethic. Your leader is a spineless coward. Your informant doesn't bother to check where he's getting his info from. Your plans are the most slapdash I've ever seen. And on top of it all, you can't make a decision without asking for our input. How do you think it feels for us to be working for an organization like this? Least of all, when we have nothing to go off of besides some vague written agreement from the headmaster. We're laying down our lives to assist you, and you act like it's some kind of game!"

"Holy crap, Squall!"

He turned away from the awestruck young woman to meet Zell, the look in his eyes pleading with him to be civil. Selphie stood by his side in utter shock.

"You've been thinking the same thing," he replied. "I'm just the one who finally said something about it."

"Then, tell me this," Rinoa finally spoke again, an audible tremor in her voice. "Is being a cold-hearted, emotionless drone another one of those skills SeeDs have to learn? Because if it is, then I'm glad Seifer didn't make the cut."

"Wait," Zell started. "How do you know Sei-"

"As a matter of fact, it is," Squall cut him off. "It's called 'discipline', and it's something every soldier worth their merit needs to internalize."

A hush fell over the confrontation. Only the hissing static from the station's monitor broke the silence. Rinoa's stare fell to the cobbled pavement.

"'Discipline'…" she echoed him. "That sounds just like…"

She trailed off. After a moment, she raised her eyes back to Squall, shooting him a look of disgust.

"You know, maybe this was all just a big mistake. I thought everything would work out once we hired SeeD. I thought maybe we'd finally be able to make a difference, and show the people hope for a brighter future. But, it looks like it's not that simple. I guess it doesn't matter what army you serve. In the end, it just comes down to following orders, all the same. It's not like you're one of us. I'm gonna go catch up with Watts, tell him we're calling it off, and head back to base. Take your time coming back."

She shoved her way past the three of them, stopped as she reached the intersecting alleyway Watts had taken, and turned around. Her puffy eyes were now fighting to hold back tears.

"You think this is all a game to us? Well, it's not! Zone and Watts' dads started the Forest Owls when Galbadia invaded. They were captured and publicly executed, as an example for the rest of the resistance factions after they were driven underground. They've dedicated their entire lives to honoring the sacrifice they made. And me… I've got my own reasons for fighting. I'll do whatever it takes to bring Galbadia down. So, don't you dare talk down to me, and say we're not serious. We are! We're so serious, it hurts…"

She bolted down the alley without another word. Squall turned his head away, meeting Selphie's fierce green-eyed stare.

"Well, aren't you just a charmer!" she snapped. "I hope you're real proud of yourself!"

"It needed to be said. Her carelessness was liable to get us all killed. It almost did this morning."

"There are nicer ways to put it, though! You nearly made her cry!"

"I… didn't realize those guys had it so rough," Zell mumbled. He propped himself up against the alley wall, training his eyes to his sneakers.

"I never knew my dad, but… I think I understand where they're coming from. My grandpa passed a few years back, and I took it really hard. He fought in the war before I was born; the whole reason I joined SeeD was to follow in his footsteps. He was the guy I looked up to the most. He was getting up there, so it wasn't a huge surprise. But… having your dad ripped away from you like that when you're a kid… I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"You're telling me," Selphie agreed with a dour look.

Squall paced to the opposite end of the alley. He crouched beside the nearest barrel for cover, lowered his duffel bag to the ground, and turned his gaze to the swirling display above. Regardless of whatever tragedies the Owls had faced, it was no excuse for their sloppiness. If anything, it was a gross disservice to the cause their fathers had died for. Squall had no family of his own; he'd grown up with no role model to inspire confidence in him, nor teach him valuable life lessons. In defiance of the lonesome upbringing he'd been dealt, he'd taken every step possible to achieve self-reliance. The past meant nothing to him now. He longed only to forget what little of it he still remembered.

"I WILL NEVER LET YOU FORGET ABOUT ME."

He blinked his eyes in confusion, swearing he'd just seen those very words flash on the giant monitor. They'd disappeared into the sea of static just as quickly. Moments later, the static itself slowly began to fizzle out, revealing the garbled image of a speaking podium with five microphones set atop. Two black flags bearing the crest of Galbadia were hung on either side against red curtains to the rear. A blonde announcer in a pinstripe suit stood at the lectern; the exceedingly grainy image quality made his facial features virtually indiscernible. He organized a set of papers atop before turning his attention to the camera.

"Hello?" he spoke; the static interference rendered his voice slightly distorted. "Testing… hello? People of the world? Can you hear me? Can you see me?"

"It's starting?" Zell asked as he and Selphie strolled up.

"Are they shooting this on a potato?" the girl asked as she crouched down beside Squall to watch.

"Just goes to show how bad the interference is," Zell explained. "They needed the communication tower linked up just to pull this off. Anyway, wonder what this is all about."

"Oh, this is just incredible!" the emcee proclaimed. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is not a recording. It is an actual live broadcast over the air! The first of its kind in 17 years, no less! What a truly monumental occasion! We are coming to you live from Timber, with an important message from Galbadian President Vinzer Deling. And so, without further ado, let's hear from the man of the hour himself. Ladies and gentlemen of the world, President Deling!"

The giddy speaker swiftly vacated the podium as another middle-aged man in a dark suit walked on screen from the right. Heavily pixelated as his face was, Squall could vaguely see a similarity to the demonic imposter from the train. The attire he wore cut a sharp figure on what was otherwise a rather portly man. He strode up to the microphones, adjusted his collar, and began to speak.

"Greetings to you all, be you in Galbadia or Timber, Dollet or Balamb, Trabia or even Esthar. This broadcast is being streamed across the globe on every common frequency. I am Vinzer Deling, life-long president of Galbadia. Today, I am here to make a humble proposition to the leaders of the world, and their people. A call for unity and understanding, so that we may end all needless conflict. That we may exist together peacefully, as one collective world body."

"No way," Zell scoffed. "A peace proposal?"

"Man," Selphie sighed in relief. "Maybe the guy's not so bad after all?"

There's always a catch. And just who's going to be at the top of this new world order?

"Under my administration, Galbadia has sought reunification with the western territories for the last 20 years. But, that is merely the first step of many on the road to a better future. I would wish to meet with the leaders of the world to discuss these matters in further detail. Unfortunately, there remain many trifling problems between Galbadia and-"

Deling suddenly cut himself off. His eyes momentarily pivoted upward to the studio ceiling, as if something had drawn his attention away. After a brief pause, he craned his neck back down.

"Forgive me. As I was saying, it is regrettable that even now there remains discord between Galbadia and other nations. In the most extreme cases, it has grown into violent insurrection. An attempt was made on my life this very morning. Rest assured, the plot has been thwarted, and the insurgents' hideout uncovered by our tracking specialists. Our armed forces should be dealing with them as we speak."

"Wha-?!" Selphie yelped.

Squall just barely managed to cover her mouth before her outburst drew the guards' attention. It was unexpected news to be sure, but unsurprising; the destroyed presidential carriage had been left on the tracks leading back to the Owls' base.

"Rinoa's not gonna be happy," Zell grimly muttered.

"I owe the foiling of this treachery in no small part to the ambassador I am here to introduce. She will be my representative for the coming discussions. Seventeen years ago, Galbadia waged a bloody war with Esthar, the nation commanded by the wicked Sorceress Adel. And now, today, I am honored to formally announce our own alliance with yet another sorceress."

You must be joking.

"And so, ladies and gentlemen of the world-"

Deling's speech was abruptly drowned out by a loud metal screeching. He tilted his eyes up again. His mouth shot open in shock as he backpedaled away from the lectern, practically wrapping himself in the curtains. A massive chunk of metal scaffolding suddenly crashed down onto the stage. The camera shook violently, the audio clipping over the speakers as the podium was crushed to splinters.

Squall stared on in horror with his own mouth agape. A flash of grey dropped from above as the dust settled. It charged for the president, and forcefully yanked him out from the backdrop. The assailant spun Deling around, pressing an ebony blade to his throat. Even as the interference distorted the fine details, Squall could easily recognize the manner in which he held the weapon; the pistol-shaped grip was unmistakable.

"Seifer?!" Zell flipped.

"What's he doing here?!" Selphie shrilled.

Squall was at a loss for words. Before he could find them, another figure leapt down from the rafters. Her golden fringes whipped wildly as she landed, her right hand clutching a coiled metal whip with a spiked tip at the end.

"Instructor?!" Zell reeled. "What the hell's going on?!"

She held out her hands to a platoon of armed guards stepping into the camera's lens. What words she shouted to them Squall could not tell; all audio had cut out with the podium's destruction. Seifer tugged at the president's shirt collar in the background, and began dragging him to the side of the stage with the Hyperion still pressed to his neck. At last, the video footage cut out, and reverted to pure static.

"Squall?" Selphie racked his shoulder.

Damn it all.

He reached for the duffel bag, unzipping it as quickly as he could. By the time he'd pulled out his gunblade and clipped the sheath to his belt, Zell had already rounded the corner into the plaza. He followed after as Selphie drew her nunchaku. The guards outside the station had begun their charge inside to provide backup. Zell slammed the ground with his fist. A tremor tore through the cobbled earth just as Squall had seen in Dollet. The squad spun around at the approaching rumble, and simultaneously yelped in alarm as the upsurge of energy sent them flying in all directions. The three SeeDs charged forward, reaching the automatic glass doors before the last body hit the ground.

"Where the hell's the studio?" Zell barked. He raced over to the lobby directory, hastily scanning his eyes over it.

"Maybe we could’ve tailed those guys instead?” Selphie hinted belatedly.

"Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve. Here we go! Main sound stage, third floor, room 301. Let's move!"

They bolted into the waiting elevator. Squall punched the button for the third floor as soon as he stepped aboard, and proceeded to jam the door-close button repeatedly until the lift responded. His mind raced a mile a minute as they rose. What could have happened back at the Garden in the mere two days they'd been away? How had Seifer gotten to Timber? Why had he come? And why was he after the president?

Actually, those last two might not be so hard to guess.

"Shields up," he ordered.

Squall activated the sphere on his belt. The shimmering energy barrier flashed in front of him as the elevator dinged, slowing to a halt. Zell and Selphie mirrored his casting, readying themselves for whatever awaited them on the other side. Squall drew his gunblade as the doors parted. A long string of blue uniforms lined the hall ahead of them, their weapons trained to the door at the opposite end. Not content to let their element of surprise go to waste, he leapt from the elevator, slicing down the nearest soldier without bothering to pull the trigger.

The man's cry gave way to a confused uproar. Every other soldier turned on the spot to face them. Machine gun fire erupted as Zell and Selphie moved in to engage; the bullets harmlessly pinged off their barriers, impacting into the office walls and other soldiers alike. The three slashed, pummeled, and beat their way through the security forces with relative ease. The clattering gunfire ceased after several seconds. Having apparently realized their firearms were doing more harm than good, the soldiers holstered their weapons in exchange for the glaives at their sides.

Squall expertly parried each of their strikes, slicing through them one after another with trained precision. His vision tunneled; for but those few moments in time, nothing was real to him but the clashing of steel on steel. Before he knew it, the corridor ahead was clear. The floor beneath his feet now lay strewn with carnage, his blade soaked a brilliant crimson.

And still, it doesn't feel real…

"Come on!" Zell urged him. "It should be just up ahead!"

Squall followed his lead down the desecrated hall, sidestepping fallen bodies and weapons. He procured a rag from his back pocket to wipe away the blood from his sword; it proved just barely sufficient for the amount. He stowed it away again as Zell burst through the double doors ahead.

The three emerged into a brilliantly lit sound stage. Wheeled cameras dotted the floor, their connecting cables forming a veritable web of wires. All were trained to the fallen segment of scaffolding where the podium once stood. Eight armed guards stood among them. Most kept their rifles locked to Seifer and his captive at the stage's rear. Two had diverted their sights to Quistis on the middle-right. Without the camera's grainy filter, Squall could now properly make out her attire. She was dressed in a salmon-pink zip-up vest with a matching skirt, running down to her knees atop a pair of black boots. Her arms bore matching brown warmers and gloves. A sub-set of the guards swiveled around to face him and his entourage as they stepped through. The maddened blonde youth smirked as his eyes met Squall's from across the divide.

"I wondered who was making all that racket out there," he sneered.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Squall snapped. "Why are you getting involved in this?!"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm just doing my duty as a man, and making sure you three don't screw it all up! Her whole objective was to get this guy, right?"

You've already screwed things up more than we ever could.

"I get it!" Zell blurted. "You're Rinoa's-"

"Shut your damn mouth, chicken-wuss!"

He's right, Zell. Just keep your mouth shut, and don't say anything stupid.

"You really are bat-shit, aren't you?" he fired back. "You came all the way from the Garden just to-"

"Shut up!" Squall exploded.

His voice reverberated through the studio. Zell and Selphie reeled in shock. The soldiers facing them twitched, focusing their barrels solely on him. He turned to Quistis; her dread-filled face, now absent the usual silver-rimmed glasses, confirmed he was not alone.

"Garden?" Deling chortled from within Seifer's grasp. "I see… so, you're all from SeeD."

Zell's face turned white as a sheet as he realized his blunder. With just one ill-conceived taunt, he'd laid waste to their entire operation. The repercussions would be severe.

"Rest assured, should anything happen to me, the Galbadian army will reduce your precious Garden to a heap of smoldering ash," the president threatened with a sardonic smile. He craned his head back to Seifer. "You may let go of me now."

"Nice going, chicken-wuss! You and your big mouth just blew everything!"

Rather than releasing him, Seifer only tightened his grip on Deling's collar, and began dragging him off stage. Zell stood silent with his head bowed.

"Take care of his friends!" the president ordered his men as he was hauled away.

On command, the rest of the infantry spun around, and trained their rifles to the SeeDs. The wider scope of the room notwithstanding, Squall knew dealing with them ought to be no more challenging than the guards in the hallway. All he, his teammates, and Quistis need do was conjure another set of barriers, and their firearms would be rendered useless. It would have been another matter entirely had Rinoa tagged along with them.

"Guys!" a familiar voice called from behind.

You've got to be kidding.

He tilted his head back to see Rinoa and Watts come dashing in through the doors. They skidded to a halt before the mess of wires running across the floor. The rifles' clacking drew Squall's focus back to the guards; they'd shifted their aim to the newly arrived duo. He prepared to make the charge forward, when a glistening light from atop the stage caught his attention.

Quistis' metal whip now shone a vibrant sky blue; it shimmered brightly with an audible hiss. Her eyes were shut in concentration as she continued to pump more and more energy into the weapon. She opened them, and fiercely lashed it. As it traversed its horizontal arc, a cluster of fist-sized ice chunks materialized in its wake. The conjured hailstorm blasted forth in a scatter shot, slamming into the distracted soldiers from behind. Excess chunks smashed into the cameras spread about, toppling them over just as easily. The icy blue aura faded away as the whip came to a rest at her side.

"Come on!" she called to them. "Barricade the doors, and let's go!"

Squall complied at once. He and Zell made for the nearest camera, and heaved it up together. Rinoa and Watts shut the doors behind them before bolting in to assist. They joined Selphie in raising another, moving it back to the entrance beside Squall and Zell's own.

"How did you get in?" he asked Rinoa.

"I circled around back, and ran into Watts," she explained. "Apparently, he bumped into Seifer. He said he went in through the side stairwell. We just followed the trail of bodies, and wound up here. I… can't believe he actually came. Where is he?"

"Backstage with Deling," Zell grunted. He and Selphie lowered a desk with an audio mixing console to reinforce the barricade. "We gotta get moving before he does something… well, even more stupid."

The five of them promptly regrouped with Quistis. Together, they trotted backstage down a dimly-lit hallway lined by dressing rooms. All was quiet save for the pounding of their boots on the polished floor. Soon enough, an argument came into earshot from the open double doors at the end.

"… no other option. The only thing killing me will do is guarantee the complete annihilation of your home, and everyone you hold dear."

"And who do you think I'd miss? You don't know a damn thing about me!"

Squall led the way forward. He rushed ahead at top speed, readying himself to leap forward into the fray. Just as he reached the door frame, he slammed hard into what felt like a solid wall. He toppled backward onto the linoleum with an anguished cry. The five to his rear came to an abrupt halt just behind his head.

"The hell?" Zell said.

"Are you alright, sir?" Watts asked.

The worried young man extended his hand to him. He took hold of it, and raised himself back to his feet. He turned his eyes again to the door frame; it was perfectly wide open. Seifer stood with his hostage in the center of a dark, elegantly decorated dressing room, the walls swathed with drapery on all sides. A pair of candles set on the vanity table provided the only light. He stared into the mirror with Deling, his wicked smirk unflinching. Squall reached out his hand to the open doorway. His prodding fingers met resistance once again, as if an invisible wall had been erected between the two parties.

Did he do this?

"How's this for a bitter end?" Seifer sneered into the mirror. "To see the life fade from your eyes as your blood runs all over the floor?"

"Don't do it, Seifer!" Quistis pleaded with him. "The consequences will be disastrous!"

"I told you, I've had enough of your nannying!" Seifer snapped. He turned to face them with his gunblade still held to Deling's throat. "This is my story. My dream. And I'm going to see it through no matter what it takes!"

His dream…

"What a poor, helpless little boy."

The icy voice echoed through the dark dressing room and into the hall; its very timbre sent a shiver down Squall's spine. Seifer darted his head in every direction, unable to deduce its source. Squall's breath caught in his throat as he noticed a shroud of dark mist congeal into being behind him. It hissed as it rapidly swelled in both height and width. The grey-coated young man abruptly spun around with his captive to face the sound.

A distinctly feminine figure emerged from the mist, her visage shrouded in the eerie shadows cast by the flickering candlelight. Squall strained his eyes to peer through the darkness. She wore a tight-fitting, violet dress, its collar and shoulders adorned with black feathers. Her face was concealed by a pointed, blood-red mask resembling a hawk. A headpiece decorated with all manner of strange effects sat atop. Some appeared to be devilish horns jutting out at asymmetrical angles; the rest, he couldn't make out.

"Where were you?!" Deling bellowed. "Dammit, never mind that now. Just get me out of this mess! Turn this brat into one of those things, like my body double!"

"Who the hell are you?" Seifer growled.

"Such a confused little boy, aren't you?" She taunted him again, taking a step forward.

"Stay back!" he roared, pressing the blade ever closer to Deling's neck.

He backed the two of them away towards the door. She ignored his demand, continuing to inch forward.

"You're standing idle at the crossroads between innocence and maturity, unsure of which path will lead you to your destiny. Torn between right and wrong. Looked down on by those around you. Scorned for being different from the rest, for being the bothersome nail that sticks up. It's a feeling I know all too well… and so, I've come to offer you a reprieve."

"I told you to stay back! Come any closer, and I will slit his throat!"

"The man in you is telling you to step forward. The boy is telling you to back away. You just can't make up your mind, can you? You want someone to save you from this predicament. It's perfectly fine to ask for help. You're only a little boy, after all."

"I am not a boy!"

"So… you don't want to be a boy anymore?"

She now stood directly in front of him. Seifer's height and Deling's portly figure combined almost completely obscured her from Squall's vision. The invisible barrier kept him from moving any closer. His heart pounded in his chest as the tension built to its climax.

"Then come with me," she hissed. "Come with me to a place of no return. Bid farewell to your childhood, and become the man you were destined to be."

Her right arm protruded from behind the two men; the hawk mask rested within her black-gloved fingers. Seconds passed in dead silence; no one among the six standing in the hall nor the three in the room uttered a sound. For those few moments, the world stood still. It was set back in motion by a sudden metal clank.

Seifer's gunblade fell from his grasp to the floor. He stood completely still as the same dark mist enveloped him, rapidly thickening until it blocked out any sight of the room's shadowy interior. It slowly faded away, leaving no trace of life behind. Seifer, Deling, and the woman were gone, along with the fallen ebony gunblade.

"T-that… that didn't actually happen, right?" Zell stammered from behind.

Squall turned back to glance between the five in his presence. All wore matching looks of bewilderment, each speaking louder than any verbal affirmation. Neither did he need a mirror to know his own face looked the same.

It couldn't have been real. Those are just old fairy tales… aren't they?

"We… we need to get out of here now," Quistis said. "Reinforcements are bound to be on the way."

"Let's get back to the hideout!" Rinoa took charge, clearly trying to shake off her nerves.

"There should be a fire escape on the other side of the stage, everyone!" Watts announced. He spun on his heel, and darted back down the corridor.

"Um, about that," Selphie hesitantly spoke. "Is there… anywhere else safe you know?"

"Why?" Rinoa asked.

Selphie glanced to Zell, and then he to Squall. He averted his eyes; when considering their earlier falling out, hearing the tragic news from him would surely only add insult to injury. It was a responsibility he refused to accept.

"Rinoa," Zell took on the burden. "I'm sorry, but… this is gonna be hard for you to hear."

Chapter Text

"Thank you so much, Miss Agnes," the girl named Rinoa said.

The heavy-set, elderly woman quickly locked the door behind them. She wore a simple brown dress with a white apron over top, her greying hair secured by a green bandanna.

"Of course, hun," she replied. "It's the least I can do after… well, I'm sorry about your base."

"Yeah," the girl sighed. "Watts went off to look for survivors. I hope they managed to get away."

Quistis swept her eyes across the town home's cozy interior. The main level consisted of a single multi-purpose room. A circular wooden table sat in the center atop a muted green carpet. The kitchen space stretched around the northeast perimeter, comprised of a small gas stove, a refrigerator, and a dishwasher/sink combo. A flight of wooden stairs stood opposite, leading up to the second level. It was a humble abode, far too small for the five of them, Agnes, and her mid-twenties daughter by the stove. A small sofa faced an outdated TV set in the corner. The news anchors on screen continued to discuss the breaking hostage situation, interspersed with shots of the TV station's cordoned off exterior.

“It'll be okay," Agnes' daughter assured Rinoa. She opened a cabinet to retrieve a set of tea cups. "Your group's always been good at making a quick getaway, right? They'll be fine. Here, have some tea. Make yourselves at home."

She gently placed the porcelain cups on the table, and gestured to the seats as she turned back to the kettle. Squall dragged out the first wooden chair. Quistis followed suit with Zell and Selphie right after. Rinoa remained standing, staring blankly at the table's surface. She finally moved as the daughter rounded the table to begin pouring.

"Thanks, Colette," she muttered. She took her seat, cradling the steaming cup in her hands.

The group's escape had surprisingly gone off without a hitch. They'd made use of the sound stage's rear fire exit to return to street level. There, from atop the outdoor metal landing, a billowing pillar of black smoke could be seen rising from the outskirts of the city. Rinoa and her fellow resistance operative had been heartbroken at the sight. Quistis only hoped she would not be forced to see Balamb Garden meet the same fate by the day's end. She kept one eye fixed to the TV all the while. Strangely, the network had yet to show any footage of the actual broadcast; she'd assumed any news organization would leap at the opportunity to replay it on a near constant loop. Neither did the commentators make any mention of the substance or intent behind Deling's address, nor even SeeD, instead fixating on the question of how his security detail could have been so unprepared. For however little she still understood of the incident, they seemed to know even less.

Still fatigued from her journey across the sea, she'd spent the group's hurried trek through the back streets attempting to piece together the scenario she'd stumbled into. Try as she might, nothing could make sense of the fate that had befallen Seifer. Only slightly less peculiar was Rinoa herself; Quistis had instantly recognized her as the girl Squall had danced with at the graduation ball. Given what she'd learned over the last two days, her presence that night had surely been no coincidence.

"So, you guys are kinda like an open secret around town?" Selphie asked Rinoa as she took a sip from her tea.

"You could say that. As far as the other factions go, at least. Miss Agnes is actually the leader of the Forest Foxes."

"Seriously?!" Zell nearly spat his own drink out.

"You bet your hide, spiky," the elderly woman quipped from the sofa. "There're more resistance groups in this town than you'd believe. Rinoa's is the only one still active these days, though."

"Why's that?" Selphie asked. "If there's so many, why not all band together and stick it to Galbadia as one big super-resistance?"

"You think we didn't try that back in the day, sweetie? The army's too much to handle. And besides, after all this time, a lotta us have got different priorities. Colette's little ones, my grandkids, mean everything to me. We're trying to bring them up as best we can without painting a target on our backs."

"Guess we haven't been helping much," Squall cut in.

"It's something we could do without," Colette acknowledged from the window. "But we know Rinoa's got her heart in the right place. And we always look out for our own when someone needs it."

"I'm so sorry," Rinoa apologized. Her mussed dark hair drooped over the steam rising from her tea cup. "And that goes for everyone here. If it weren't for me, then… he wouldn't have…"

Quistis took a sip to calm her nerves. Her intuition must have been on the mark; the girl's presence at the ball and the events of the last 24 hours were all the proof she needed.

'Only one woman,' he says… but why does he think I'm trying to be like her?

"What I wanna know is how Seifer got here in the first place," Zell said. He shot Quistis a glance from across the table. "Instructor?"

"You're not supposed to call me that anymore, Zell," she reminded him.

The very mention of her former title sent a pang of regret through her stomach. It was a wound still on the mend, as was her explosive falling out with the appointed squad leader at the table.

"You're always gonna be 'Instructor Trepe' to me," he smiled back. "It's who you really are."

It took all she had not to blush, reminded of just how reliable the hot-headed boy was. It had been he who'd patiently listened to her woes in her time of need. Even now, in the midst of such dire circumstances, he offered her reassurance. It gave her strength to recount the harrowing tale to them.

"It was around noon yesterday," she began; her exhausted mind strained to recall it. "I was taking a stroll around the campus to clear my head, and you can probably guess who I found helping with the grounds-keeping…"

Quistis emerged from the dormitories' side entrance, and descended the stone steps into the semi-circular inner courtyard. The cafeteria lay directly ahead; so close to midday, the routine influx of students gathering for lunch had arrived on the scene. Many had spilled out into the courtyard for post-meal recreation. Others dined alfresco at the small cluster of picnic tables; there was nary a cloud in the sky to deter them. A comforting breeze washed over Quistis, allowing her to put aside the hardships of the last week for a moment.

Since having her instructor's license revoked, she had been forced to vacate her private quarters on the 17th floor. She'd only had the room for a mere six months, so briefly that her old room in the dorms had yet to be given to another tenant. She was for all intents and purposes right back to square one. It still weighed on her heart, as did her blowout with Squall. And so, after eight long days spent miring in her misery, she'd finally found the determination to make amends.

"You call that an even cut?!"

The shrill outburst drew her attention to a nearby patch of shrubbery along the walkway. Commandant Xu stood by its side, her arms crossed in disapproval as she stared down at a young man with hedge clippers. Quistis did a double take upon seeing his face; she'd barely recognized him without the grey jacket. The gardener's smock and landscaping hat he wore now were almost too much for her to handle.

"I'm not finished yet!" Seifer shot back as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "I'm going to touch it up once I'm done taking the top off."

"You've already mutilated the poor thing!" Xu raged. "Keep doing a half-assed job, and I'll triple your training! Got it?"

"Apologies, ma'am. I must have been absent when we covered this in class."

"Don't get snippy!"

"But you'd better get snipping!" Quistis jumped in.

She chuckled to herself as their eyes swiveled to her. Seifer wore a resentful glare, Xu an embarrassed grimace. Quistis regretted nothing; the jab, however cringe-worthy, had been there for the taking.

"Glad to see you're back in good spirits," the commandant said as the belligerent blonde returned to work. "I take it you're moved back in? Any issues?"

"No, none," she replied, reverting to a more professional demeanor. "I felt kind of sorry for the moving staff though, having to take everything back out after they moved it up less than a year ago."

"Don't," Xu insisted. "It's their job. They do it every year for the incoming graduates."

"I suppose so. Speaking of which, you haven't seen Squall around, have you? I was just asking around the dorms for his new room, but he wasn't there."

"Leonhart? He was just sent on his first mission last night, with Dincht and Tilmitt no less."

"Oh."

Quistis hung her head. Apparently, she'd stayed absorbed in her sorrows for just a day too long.

"Well, good for him. Do we have any estimate on when they'll be back?"

"Not anytime soon, I'd say," Xu scoffed. "I looked over the paperwork a few days ago. I couldn't believe the headmaster actually gave the go-ahead on this one. They were sent to Timber, to support some skimpy resistance group."

"Are you shitting me?!"

Quistis jumped as Seifer bolted to his feet. He let the hedge clippers fall from his hands, and ripped the landscaping hat from his head.

"They're only sending three complete rookies?! And one of 'em's the chicken-wuss?! They might end up fightin' the whole Galbadian army!"

"And just how do you know the details of their mission?" Xu asked.

"Because I'm the one who convinced Cid to take it in the first place! I've got someone important to me in that resistance group. Those three alone are not gonna cut it for what they've got planned!"

"That's not our concern. With how small the payment was, they were lucky to get any assistance at all. It never ceases to amaze me, though. Why the headmaster continues to give you the time of day is beyond me."

"So, the only thing that matters to you is how much money you can squeeze out of everyone?" Seifer spat in disgust. "What happened to standing up for a cause? Or being a force for change? Don't you have any sense of honor?"

"That's the reality of working for a mercenary army," Xu reminded him. "If you don't like it, you're welcome to drop out at any time. Now, quit complaining and get back to work!"

Quistis looked on with unease. A vicious electricity hung between the two, their stares not breaking from one another for several moments more. She didn't know the details of their contract, nor the specifics of what Squall and his comrades would be pressed into. Regardless, it was not her place to argue with decisions made by the headmaster.

Seifer finally retrieved the hat from the ground, and returned it to his head, his face contorted with barely restrained fury. He knelt down to scoop up the hedge clippers, and went back to work. Satisfied, Xu stepped away in the opposite direction. She motioned for Quistis to follow after. Together, they paced for several yards until they were comfortably out of Seifer's earshot.

"I need you to do me a favor," the commandant finally said. "After dinner, he's supposed to be helping out the Garden Festival committee in the quad. There's an emergency meeting being called by the administration tonight. Some kind of joint venture between us and Galbadia Garden. Whatever it is, it's big, and I can't get out of it. I want you to check up on him, and make sure he doesn't get any ideas. I wouldn't have said anything if I'd known he had connections with that group. That was my mistake."

"Do you really think he'd-"

Quistis cut herself off mid-sentence; her mouth had been moving faster than her mind.

"Understood."

"I assume that 'someone important' was you?"

She stared across the table to Rinoa. The girl blushed, lowering her head back down to her tea.

"I… I wrote to him about our plans," she affirmed. "He's always been really supportive of us, ever since we met. He helped me get into the Garden to meet with Cid, and practically begged him to approve the contract. I could tell it was really important to him, too. He just wanted to help us take back this city. So, please… whatever happens after all this… don't think too badly of him."

Quistis was not convinced that Seifer's interest had been so selfless, nor did she believe it was the faction's mission that had concerned him. She opened her mouth to reply, when a sudden rap at the door stole away their collective attention.

"City patrol!" a muffled voice came from the other side. "Open up!"

"You just hold on a minute!" Agnes grouchily bellowed. She slowly hefted herself from the sofa, taking her time. "And keep your voice down! I've got two small children upstairs, so don't you do anything to frighten them!"

"Upstairs!" Colette frantically whispered to the five. "Hurry!"

They all carefully raised themselves from the table, and pushed the chairs back in as quietly as they could. Colette gathered three of the five tea cups, dumped their contents in the sink, and stored the evidence in the dishwasher. Selphie led the way to the staircase; her petite figure generated virtually no noise as she bounded up. Rinoa and Quistis followed in short order, with Zell and Squall bringing up the rear. The boys worked their way up the steps at a far more deliberate pace to minimize creaking.

The entire group made it onto the second-floor landing within 15 seconds, and took a right into a sparsely decorated bedroom. A large circular rug sat in the center beside a meager, twin-sized bed. Zell gently closed the door as Quistis and the remaining three sat themselves around its circumference. Agnes' heated exchange with the patrol downstairs began to fade away, moving out of the house and onto the front of the property. A set of hurried footsteps bolted up the stairs. Colette peeked her head through a beat later.

"I'll come tell you when the coast's clear," she quietly told them. "For now, just try not to make too much noise."

"Will she be okay?" Rinoa whispered.

"Absolutely. My mom's a tough old bird. Legend goes that back in the day, she took on Galbadia armed only with her strength, cooking, and beauty."

She dipped her head back into the hall, and shut the door again.

"The beauty part sure makes it sound like a legend," Selphie muttered.

"Man, for a moment there I thought we were screwed," Zell quietly moaned.

"Tell me about it. So, uh… Miss Trepe? Sorry, is it weird to call you that?"

"There's no need to stand on formalities, Selphie," she embarrassingly smiled back. "Just Quistis is fine."

"What about 'Quisty', then? That sounds a lot more fun!"

She grimaced at the childish nickname, recalling all the times Seifer had referred to as such over the years.

"Just Quistis is fine," she repeated, far more firmly.

"Okay, okay. But anyway, what happened next? I introduced Seifer to the festival committee at last week's meeting. We drafted up the blueprints for the stage setup, and were just about to start piecing it together. You're telling me he just didn't show up?"

"Nope. Though, for what it's worth, he did leave them with a couple of stand-ins…"

As opposed to the ballroom, which was expressly reserved for formal affairs, Balamb Garden's main quad acted as the primary hub for student-organized events. Plentiful greenery flourished the wide open-air expanse at its edges. A stage's massive steel frame stood erected by the far wall. Cadets and SeeDs alike swarmed about it, hauling all manner of sound and lighting equipment to their designated positions. Others had begun setting up the control consoles, their connecting cables wrapping all the way around to the stage's rear.

Quistis descended the steps from the entryway at her own pace; even from atop, picking out Seifer would be no easy task. As she neared the audio mixer, she caught sight of a familiar face; a young cadet with her hair tied up in a ponytail stood by it. She weaved her way through the crowd to meet her. The girl turned her head as she approached. Her face instantly lit up.

"Instructor!" she beamed.

"Not anymore, Lindsay," Quistis reminded her out of obligation.

For however much she wished she could informally keep the title among her closest students, it was simply not professional, and could easily be misconstrued as impersonation. It still pained her to accept. For Lindsay, a member of the 'Trepies', the disappointment was perhaps even comparable. Quistis' rapid advancement to instructor had made her something of a celebrity among the student body. It naturally hadn't taken long for her most ardent admirers to form their own unofficial fan club. Despite her own reservations, she still made it a point to stay on friendly terms with those members she knew.

"I know," Lindsay sighed. "But that's how we've all come to know you. It's just not right."

"It hasn't been an easy hurdle to get over," she admitted. "But I'm sure it's just a small setback on the road to better things. Anyway, have you seen Seifer? He's supposed to be assisting."

"Oh, yeah. His two friends said he couldn't make it. They're helping out in his place."

"What?!"

Quistis' heart leapt into her throat. She spun around, rapidly scanning her eyes over the sea of students. Within seconds, she spotted a flash of silver hair beside a tall mass of tanned muscles to the right of the stage.

"Is something wrong?" Lindsay asked innocently.

"Sorry," she apologized. "We'll catch up later!"

She tore across the quad, deftly careening around the students in her way. Her pace barely slowed as she drew closer to Raijin's bulky figure. The muscular young man carried a stage monitor over his shoulder. Fujin stayed at his side, keeping the attached wires from dragging along the ground.

"You two!" she called out. Both stopped in their tracks, and turned their heads to her. "What are you doing here? Where's Seifer?"

"He told us to take his shift here, y'know?" Raijin stated obliviously. "Think he was goin' to get a mop, or somethin'."

"Moron," Fujin spoke quietly. She averted her single eye from Quistis.

"What? Didn't he say he had a mess to go clean up?"

"Moron!"

Fujin abruptly kicked him in the shin. As the young man grunted in mild discomfort, Quistis spun on her heel. She darted for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time.

That reckless idiot is going to be the death of me!

"There was no time to wait for the meeting to adjourn. Every second wasted was only going to put him further out of reach, and increase the risk of him jeopardizing your mission. I took out a car from the garage, and raced into town as fast as I could. By the time I got there, the intercontinental line had already left. So, I commandeered an assault boat. I piloted it across the sea all night, down under the west end of the Horizon Bridge, around the cape, and anchored it in a small cove just off shore. I've been awake for well over 24 hours at this point, and I'm pretty sure the adrenaline is all that's keeping me going."

Her audience of four remained silent, their expressions each telling a story of their own. Selphie wore a wide-eyed stare; Rinoa, a look of dread; Zell, one of disbelief; and Squall, a completely blank stare trained to the carpet.

"I made my way on foot to the city gates. They only had a couple of guards on duty, nothing I couldn't manage. I snuck in, worked my way to the station, and waited for the train to arrive…"

The brakes of the intercontinental express screeched as it pulled into the terminal, rousing Quistis from her daze; she'd nearly dozed off against the concrete wall by the turnstiles. It had been a long and grueling voyage across the sea. The trip's total cost had amounted to 3,000 gil for the cheapest ticket into the station, an entire night's sleep, and what little peace of mind she'd managed to retain in the last week. Her brain was fried, her stomach empty. Her determination not to disappoint the commandant again was all that kept her functioning.

Pedestrians milled about the platform with their luggage, parting to either side as the train's doors opened. The stream of newly arrived passengers spilled out, and intermingled in short order. She scanned her eyes all along the platform's length. It was not long before the familiar grey coat popped into view, the young man wearing it aloof as she'd ever seen him. He sidestepped through the crowd with purpose. She moved from the wall to intercept him, preemptively engaging the sphere clipped to her belt.

Those bound for Balamb piled into the carriages, while the new arrivals formed a line to the security checkpoint. Quistis maneuvered herself around the tail end of the queue. She stepped directly into the path of the oncoming blonde, fashioning the most stern expression she could manage given her fatigue. Seifer stalled in his tracks. His eyes widened in alarm. An awkward pause lingered before that same familiar smirk overtook his face like clockwork.

"It would be you of all people they'd send," he spoke nonchalantly. "Or did you volunteer? Neither would surprise me."

"I came of my own accord," she told him. "The administration doesn't even know about this yet. So, I suggest you get back on that train quietly, and pray they don't have you expelled once we return."

"Interesting," he mused, not seeming fazed in the slightest. "So, you've abandoned your post to take matters into your own hands? My, doesn't that sound familiar. 'Do as I say, not as I do', is it?"

She had no response.

"What do you hope to accomplish here?" she impatiently changed the subject.

"What do you think? To keep my promise to those who depend on me. To help them fulfill their cause, and take a stand for something I believe in. That's why I'm here. It's a matter of honor."

"Honor? You're just an egomaniac who holds himself too highly."

"It's the truth," Seifer declared. He pointed his finger to her. "And what about you? Why take it upon yourself to come all this way? Why not leave it to someone else for a change? That's what I want to know. Why does it always have to be you?"

"Your meddling is liable to ruin Squall and the others' mission," she explained. "It's my duty as a professional and your superior to make sure you don't interfere with official SeeD business. Nothing more."

"That's a load of crap, and you know it!"

He thrust his arm into his jacket. It re-emerged with his gunblade. He pointed the weapon straight at her, holding it parallel to the ground.

"You think I haven't noticed? The way you always prop yourself up around me and Squall with that holier-than-thou attitude? Don't try to deny it. You've been at it since we were kids. Loving caretaker one minute, scolding nanny the next. Day in and day out, even when we're the same age! It's disgusting. That you have the gall to talk down to me like a misbehaving child. There's only one woman who has the right to speak to me like that, and you'll never be her, no matter how much you wish you could be."

A circle of onlookers had begun to form. The weapon aimed straight for Quistis' chest prompted an uneasy murmuring among them. It slowly dawned on her that resolving the confrontation without causing a scene would now be impossible.

"I'm sure Squall thinks the same," Seifer doubled down. "We're both grown men. We can look after ourselves without your constant nannying. And you wonder why you lost your license."

She lowered her eyes to the platform. An intense fury unlike any she'd ever felt began boiling up from the depths of her soul. She fought with all of her might to hold back the seething rage, but to no avail. Her hand moved to her whip's leather grip.

"I… I've had enough of you," she finally eked out. "I'm not your nanny… and I might not be your instructor any longer. But I'm a soldier, with a mission to fulfill, and a reputation to uphold."

She raised her eyes back up to meet Seifer's smirk. Her mind screamed with hatred as she uncoiled the whip with one hand.

"And for all your talk of being a man, you sure sound like a spoiled brat in need of a good lashing!"

In a flash, she cracked the whip on the platform's surface between them. The surrounding onlookers scattered in a frenzy, many dropping their luggage on the platform. Seifer's smirk faded away as he drew back his gunblade.

"This is your last chance!" she warned him over the erupting chaos. "You can either come back peacefully, or be dragged kicking and screaming like the angry little boy you are!"

"You'll regret that!" Seifer roared.

He charged forward. Quistis could have easily drawn her whip into both hands to parry the strike. Instead, she backpedaled out of its range. The audible detonation as it whizzed by assured her that she'd made the right call; sturdy as her whip's metal body was, a single pull of the gunblade's trigger would be liable to shear it clean in two. The moment he drew back for another attack, she went on the offensive. She launched into a flurry of swipes, the metal strap slamming into the concrete tiling with each blow.

Seifer backed off from the bludgeoning whirlwind. Formidable though he was in close-quarters combat, his one dimensional, brute force fighting style left him helpless at range. She precisely guided the spiked tip toward him with each strike. It took all he had to keep batting it away with the side of his blade. No matter his reflexes, Quistis' victory was assured so long as she maintained the distance between them. One misplaced step or mistimed evasion, and the battle would be over. She kept up the pressure, not letting him rest for a moment. She knew he'd tire out before long.

"Freeze!"

She stalled as she turned to face the gruff voice. A squad of Galbadian infantry closed in from the side, their drawn rifles swiveling between the two of them.

"Drop your weapons, now!" the soldier at the front demanded.

Quistis furrowed her eyes at the interruption, and quickly channeled her energy into a protective barrier. The troops opened fire the instant it shimmered before her. Their bullets bounced off harmlessly as she charged them. The spike at the end of the whip tore through uniform and flesh with ease; those who met the length of the lash were promptly toppled to the floor. As the last one slumped over onto an abandoned suitcase, a blur of grey bolted past her.

Seifer sprinted across the terminal through the ensuing pandemonium. He parkoured over the turnstiles with ease. Quistis quickly recoiled her whip, and bounded after him, hoping beyond hope she would be able to catch him before the situation spiraled even further out of control.

"So, that's why there were so many guards around the station today," Zell hummed.

"Starting a commotion like that wasn't ideal," Quistis acknowledged. "But he'd already drawn his weapon, and the attention of everyone else on the platform. There was no other option. I scoured the city for him, and eventually caught wind of the president coming in to make his broadcast at the TV station…"

"Ow!"

The howl echoed from around the corner up ahead. Quistis quickened her pace. The clacking of her boots reverberated through the narrow alley as she surmounted upturned gravel and piles of trash. She reached the end, and turned the corner. The side entrance to the looming TV station stood just beside. A young man with a blue bandanna and tan vest leaned next to the open doorway. He groaned in discomfort as she approached, clutching the side of his rib cage.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," he politely responded. He slid himself down the wall to sit on the pavement. "I'll be fine. Wish the guy who knocked me down was so considerate."

"Short blonde hair with a long grey coat?"

"You know him, ma'am? He shoved me to the ground and bolted on inside. I don't know what he's thinking. The security inside is bound to be tight with the president about to take the stage."

Quistis rushed through the doorway without another word. Seifer interfering with Squall and the others' mission would be disastrous enough. Openly assaulting a major world leader was on another level of irresponsibility altogether. Were his identity to be uncovered, the repercussions would be unfathomable; it could very well trigger a full-scale war between SeeD and Galbadia. No matter the risks, no matter how slim the odds, he had to be stopped.

She tore up the stairway at top speed, breaking stride only to maneuver herself around several fallen Galbadian soldiers along the way. The doorway on the third floor landing was propped open by one's body; a stream of crimson pooled on the floor from his gullet. She poked her head into the hallway, finding another strewn across the left hand side of the intersection. With a quick look in either direction, she stepped out of the stairwell and bolted down the hall.

It wasn't long before she came across yet another corpse, this time collapsed beside a door marked for maintenance staff. She stepped over, and ducked inside. A small storage room lay within, with a steel-runged ladder fixed to the wall. It led to an opening in the wall up above, from which she could faintly hear voices echoing down. She grabbed hold, and hauled herself up as fast as she could.

The low clearance gap at the top opened to a narrow, rusted metal catwalk. The scaffolding ran in a rectangle all across the ceiling of a spacious broadcast studio. Glaring spotlights were set at the front-most railing, all trained to the stage below. Seifer knelt by them. His eyes were fixed to the podium at the fore, now occupied by a blonde-haired announcer.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the world, President Deling!" he said, taking his bow.

On cue, the young assailant readied his gunblade; he emptied the magazine from the pistol-grip's bottom, drawing another from his coat pocket. The president took his place at the podium, adjusted himself slightly, and began his address. Quistis paid him little mind as she crept up on Seifer. She inched forward with care, putting the utmost delicacy into each step. Her heart pounded in her chest. If she could just knock him out, she could perhaps drag him out of the building before Deling finished his speech.

She flipped the whip's handle into a reverse-grip, forming a makeshift blackjack. Still, Seifer's focus stayed locked to the man below. Closer she crept, sidling her way along the catwalk. She moved in from the side, ready to strike, when Seifer's free arm suddenly lashed out like a viper. He caught hold of her wrist, yanking it upward. Quistis grit her teeth to resist crying out in alarm.

The force of the grapple toppled her over onto the catwalk. The metal scaffolding rumbled underneath her. She could hear the president cut off his address as Seifer bore down on her with his weapon. All went silent. Her heart skipped a beat. It picked up again in time with Deling a moment later. She stared into the young man's hate-filled eyes as the blade began to lower across her neck. She brought up the whip's handle with her free arm; the blade pressed into it in the palm of her hand, exerting pressure to pin her down.

"Stay out of this!" he furiously whispered. "This is my moment of glory! The moment I become a hero!"

"You're no hero," Quistis menaced back. She began pumping energy into her hand as quickly as she could. "I told you before, you're just a reckless fool looking for a fight. If only you could have taken that one lesson away from me."

Seifer had noticed the energy beginning to charge up in her palm. He released her, and backpedaled out of the way. A pair of raucous metal screeches followed, breaking Quistis' concentration. To her horror, she felt the surface of the catwalk begin to dip beneath her. She rolled across to the other side and turned to look back. He'd sliced clean through the scaffolding's support beams, one after another. The section of grated flooring creaked sickeningly before snapping off altogether. It fell to the stage below with a thunderous crash, destroying the podium Deling had just been standing at.

Not wasting a moment of the studio crew's stunned silence, Seifer leapt down. He landed hard on top of the debris before charging to the rear. Quistis looked on in shock as the president was wrangled from the curtains. She had failed. The situation had escalated well beyond her ability to influence. Her only hope now lay with the three SeeDs stationed elsewhere in the city. With a heavy heart, and even heavier weight on her conscience, she unfurled her whip, and descended into the fray.

"I tried my hardest. I really did, but… I can't stop thinking about it. That maybe if I'd been just a little quicker, or handled things differently…"

She stared down at the rug they sat around, pleading with herself to maintain her composure.

"Maybe I am a failure, after all," she whispered in shame.

"It's not your fault."

Quistis abruptly raised her head, hoping the voice's distinct timbre hadn't deceived her. Squall lifted his eyes from the rug. They peered into her own with what seemed to be, unbelievably, a look of sympathy.

"You did everything you could. But whenever he sets his mind to something, it's impossible to talk him out of it. I know that better than anyone. If it were me, I probably couldn't have stopped him either. So, don't take it personally."

She could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, so considerate they were. His attitude was a far cry from the way he'd acted the night of the ball, regardless of his matter-of-fact tone. Deny it as he might, there was clearly more to him than the uncaring husk he made himself out to be. With a sidelong glance to Zell, she could see she was not alone.

"I won't pretend to know everything that goes on in his head," Squall continued. "But he's always operated by his own code. There was nothing that could have stopped him. Nothing except… the sorceress."

Quistis felt her skin crawl. The image of the slender, masked woman was still burned into her retinas. She'd studied the legends of Hyne, fabled creator of all mankind, and the women said to bear his magical gift. Never could she have imagined the myth to actually hold credence. She would have much rather believed it to be a hallucination brought on by her lack of sleep.

"What's going to happen to him?" Rinoa weakly mewled.

"He may already be dead," Squall bluntly answered.

"That's…!"

She jerked her head up, barely managing to hold back her anger. She continued in a harsh whisper.

"That's terrible! Why would you say that?!"

"Because it's the only logical outcome. That magic we saw her perform was far beyond anything a SeeD could do. If it came down to combat, he'd have no chance."

"Even so, I can still hope he's alive!"

"Hope all you want, but reality isn't so kind. Things don't always work out the way you want them to. That's why, as long as you keep your expectations grounded, you can take anything."

And he's back…

Rinoa stared irritably at him. She opened her mouth to fire back, when footsteps started up the stairs outside. The bedroom door creaked open moments later. Agnes stood in the frame.

"We've just gotten word that the extra battalions are withdrawing," the old woman said. "Only the soldiers normally stationed here will stay on duty. If you're gonna leave town, now's your best chance. You know how persistent they can be."

"Any chance we can get to your boat, Instructor?" Zell asked.

"I highly doubt it," Quistis said. "We can't just walk right out the front gate. They're bound to have extra security. Seems like our only option out of here is by train."

"Sorry to impose, ma'am," Selphie started. "But could we stay a little longer until the intercontinental line comes back tonight?"

"No can do, hun," Agnes shook her head. "I told those soldiers where they could take it, but they'll be back with a warrant. Colette's just gone to pull the kids out of school, so we've got a consistent story. If you're gonna leave, it's got to be now."

"So, what's the plan, Mr. Leader?" Rinoa directed her ire at Squall. She rose to her feet and stretched. "Is there a safe place you can take me? This is an order. An order from your client, remember?"

Squall's eyes furrowed in frustration at the jab. Quistis already knew the exact procedure they were to follow in such a scenario.

"Garden Code, Article 8, Line 7," she recited, hoping it would jog his memory.

She'd already memorized the passage in question: 'In the event that returning to the assigned Garden is not possible, report to the nearest Garden'. Even now, the months she'd spent studying for her instructor's certification continued to pay off.

"So, we head for Galbadia Garden?" he replied.

"Precisely. I've been there several times. I should be able to explain our situation to them."

"Then let's get going!" Rinoa declared. "The line bound for Dollet stops just east of there. It's almost noon, so we should make it if we hurry!"

The others all rose to their feet, thanking their host as they filed out of the bedroom and back down the stairs. Zell cracked the front door open to check for patrols. Quistis turned back once more to Agnes by the base of the stairs, bowing in appreciation of her goodwill.

"Just take good care of Rinoa, you hear?" she smiled back. "You've got guts, young lady. So, keep your head held high."

"Yes, ma'am," she replied. The words of encouragement warmed her heart as she stepped out after her compatriots onto the cobbled road.

Rinoa took the lead as they forged their way through the midday streets. They stuck to the back roads when possible, keeping a constant eye out for approaching soldiers. Though only Quistis had been caught on the broadcast, it stood to reason that the station's security camera footage had been reviewed and disseminated among the patrols. Selphie concealed her bulky nunchaku in the back of her yellow outfit. Squall had only the cover of his comrades to keep his sheathed gunblade from sight.

The walkways were sparsely frequented compared to when Quistis had arrived that morning. The crowds began to thicken only as they came to the local continental terminals, situated further down the station's length from the Timber – Balamb line. From their vantage point opposite the arched entryway, Quistis could see the train sitting idly at the platform. Swarms of passengers were already boarding.

"Psst!"

She turned her head towards the whisper. A young man with a goatee stood in the shadows of the adjacent alley. He stepped out to meet them, his frantic eyes focused squarely on Rinoa.

"Zone!" the girl lit up. She rushed over to him, and wrapped him in a tight hug. "Is everyone alright? Have you bumped into Watts?"

"Yeah, most of us managed to get out," he assured her. "They're regrouping at the Aphorora. I figured you'd all be leaving town. I knew it'd kill you to come all this way just to find out the tickets were sold out."

"Are you serious?!" Selphie moaned.

"We'll do whatever it takes to get on that train," Squall declared.

"R-relax!" Zone assured him. He held up his right hand and rummaged through his pocket with his left. "I planned ahead and bought five, right here."

He withdrew his hand from his baggy blue pants, and fanned out a set of ticket stubs to them.

"Zone, you're a lifesaver!" Rinoa exclaimed. She practically yanked the slips from his hand.

"No problem. One for you, three for the SeeDs… and the last one was gonna be for me, but…"

The man turned his eyes to Quistis, a mix of sadness and obligation coming over him as he looked her up and down.

"Watts told me about you, and what happened in the studio. He wanted me to thank you for all your help. The last ticket's yours."

"I can't take that!" she insisted.

She knew the immense guilt she'd feel leaving this poor young man stranded, especially after he'd gone to such lengths for them. No matter how incessantly her mind screamed at her to take the offer, her conscience would not let her.

"Ow!" Zone suddenly doubled over; he clutched at his midriff as he fell to one knee. "My stomach!"

The cry sounded forced; he was clearly putting on a performance. Squall snorted in derision as he turned his head away. Rinoa knelt by her friend's side, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Zone," she gave him another hug. "We'll see each other again, okay? We're all gonna make it out of this mess, and liberate Timber together. I promise."

"I know," he replied, still faking the stomach pains. "Now get going. The train's about to leave!"

Rinoa released her grip, rose to her feet, and started across the plaza to the Timber – Dollet line. The rest of the group followed after. Quistis stayed a moment longer, her eyes unmoving from the hunched-over young man.

"Why?" she asked incredulously.

"Because it's the right thing to do," he smiled back. He finally gave up the charade, and straightened himself out. "The honorable thing to do."

"Honor," she muttered.

She understood now just what a powerful force it was. It had impelled a self-serving delinquent to take a stand for something bigger than himself; a disgraced instructor who'd always lived her life by the rules to pursue him far across the sea; and now, a young man to give up his only passage out of the city to a complete stranger. A faint smile crossed her lips. Her fatigued and conflicted mind finally felt at peace.

"Thank you," she softly spoke, turning at last to follow after her comrades.

Chapter Text

The north-bound continental express had wound along its route all afternoon, tracing the curving edges of Obel Lake up through the eastern occupied territories. True to Zone's word, the carriages were packed to the brim; the party had spent the first several minutes scouring the train for the last remaining open seats. Despite the cramped leg room of his middle seat between two strangers, Squall welcomed the six and a half hour break from his comrades. It had given him ample time to process the morning's tightly packed-together events, nonsensical though they were.

Chief among them all was the sorceress. His rational mind still refused to believe he'd actually seen what he had. And yet, the sight had been too vivid to be a mirage, the spellcraft too unconventional to be the work of a Guardian Force. He recalled the monstrous undead creature aboard the president's decoy train. If this woman were capable of conjuring such a vile, destructive force, there was no telling what other horrors she could potentially wreak. Why she'd emerged from the shadows to aid Galbadia remained a mystery. For all of Deling's diplomatic bluster however, she certainly hadn't been appointed his ambassador for the purpose of any peace talks.

It was late afternoon by the time the train pulled into East Academy Station. The setting sun had come precariously close to dipping below the small stretch of forest to the west. A lengthy walkway trailed from the platform rest station to the trees, atop which a familiar floating halo poked out.

Relations between SeeD and Galbadia had not always been so tenuous. Indeed, in Balamb Garden's formative years, they had even been contracted to assist in the capture of the lingering northeastern territories. A business partnership had been brokered, resulting in the co-founding of Galbadia Garden. There, students were trained just as in Balamb, with the school's graduates to be divided evenly between both armies.

The turning point had come 9 years ago, with SeeD's acquisition of GF technology from Odine Industries. The Balamb administration had objected to the spheres' distribution outside of their Garden. Predictably, relations soured overnight, and had only grown more inhospitable in the intervening years. Galbadia Garden still remained in operation under joint custody, with each fresh graduate now drafted yearly to whichever of the two armies bid highest. Its ties to Balamb were all that assured Squall they wouldn't be handed over to the government on arrival.

The trees cast long shadows across the cobbled path winding through. Quistis led the way forward, seemingly reinvigorated since departing Timber.

"It should only be another mile or so," she eventually said. "Maybe less. I've been here several times for assignments and seminar classes. I know the headmaster pretty well, so just leave all the talking to me."

"You're sure they're not gonna just turn us in when we show up?" Selphie worried.

"That shouldn't be an issue once I explain our situation. For all intents and purposes, we're asylum seekers. I'll have to stretch the truth a bit for Rinoa, though."

"It's fine," the girl in blue said. The mounting chill forced her to pull her duster sweater around her. "It'll probably go a lot smoother if we just pretend I'm a SeeD, too."

"I… I'm worried about Balamb Garden," Zell spoke up. He slowed to a stop. "I mean, if anything happens, it's all my fault."

Squall too was concerned. Realistically however, there was nothing they could do. They were refugees in a foreign land; what personal belongings they'd brought with them had gone up in flames with the Forest Owls' hideout. The wheels were already set in motion, leaving them as helpless bystanders to fate's design.

"You really think the president'll retaliate like he said?" Zell wondered.

"I can't see him letting an attempt on his life go unanswered," Squall said as he came to a halt beside him.

"But… even if he does send in the army, everyone back home'll be able to fight 'em off, right? We've got thousands of students, and tons of 'em are fully trained SeeDs!"

"And about half are junior classmen still in basic education. Most haven't even started combat training. And besides, remember what we learned this morning? About that new AI guidance tech they've started using for their missiles? That's what I got when he said he'd reduce the Garden to ash."

Zell's hopeful expression withered and faded away. His eyes fell to the cobbled path below. As bitter a pill it was to swallow, it was the most logical means of retaliation for Galbadia to take.

"Oh, you're just such a great leader, aren't you?!" Rinoa snapped. "Do you actually enjoy being so callous?"

"The truth hurts sometimes," he told her. "It's like I said before, reality doesn't always work out the way you want it to. No amount of wishful thinking will change that."

"That's no excuse for the way you're talking to him! Zell's looking to you for support! Any kind of encouragement to make things easier!"

Running from the truth only makes it that much harder when the time comes to face the facts. Am I the only one who understands that? No, I'm sure Seifer…

"Don't you ever think about the well-being of your friends?!"

Damn, she's infuriating. She's actually giving me a headache.

"Are you even listening, Squall?!"

Wait… this sensation… it feels just like-

A sharp pain stabbed through his mind. He fell to one knee with a cry of agony, clutching his head in both hands. A familiar ringing overtook his ears.

"Squall!" Quistis yelped as she and Selphie raced to his side. "What's wrong?"

His mouth would no longer obey him. His entire body fell limp as he collapsed. His head twisted sideways to meet Zell's red sneakers. And before his vision faded to black, he could just barely discern the blonde's words over the persistent ringing.

"Hold on! This has happened before…"

"The map says it should be just over that ridge!" Laguna called back. He stowed the leaflet in his rear pocket, and glanced over his shoulder.

Kiros and Ward trudged on up the gravelly slope after him, both men's haggard faces attesting to the grueling journey they'd faced thus far. They'd come ashore on the northern tip of the Centran continent several days earlier. From there, the lengthy hike across the desolate Serengetti Plains had begun. The rocky, mountainous terrain lay completely arid save for faint traces of vegetation; it was all that remained of a once prosperous land, now long uninhabited by mankind.

Their nights spent making camp were largely devoid of sleep. Strange, unnatural wildlife the likes of which Laguna had never seen roamed the barren land. He'd heard all kinds of stories from soldiers dispatched to the continent on prior surveillance outings, and of the monsters they'd claimed to have encountered: from hulking mantises twice the size of a grown man, to a colony of bi-pedal lizard creatures wielding hand-crafted knives.

As a precaution, he'd made sure to bring along a surplus of ammunition; it hung across his chest from a pair of entwined bandoliers. He'd been right to do so. The wildlife they'd run across thus far had matched if not exceeded his expectations: massive bear monstrosities with four pincer-like claws protruding from their torsos, slithering slug creatures spewing oil from their tube-shaped mouths, and hunched dragon-like monsters with razor-sharp tails. Fording the hostile environment was more strenuous and nerve-wracking than anything Laguna had experienced before. He was both physically and mentally drained, to where he could now feel the buzzing sensation coming on yet again.

Once we're done with this one, I think I'm gonna call it a career.

"If we're that close, then maybe try keeping your voice down?" Kiros advised. "We're here for recon, not to start a commotion."

"Yeah, I know. But something tells me it's not gonna be that cut-and-dry."

"When did you turn into such a pessimist?" Ward snorted as he brought up the rear. "Things not work out with you-know-who? You can't keep it from us forever."

"I told you, that's none of you guys' business! And no, it's nothing to do with that. It's just… I dunno, maybe being so on edge these last few days is gettin' to me. I've just got a bad feeling about all this."

[Why does this keep happening?]

"Seriously, a really bad feeling."

"Let's just keep our heads down, and get through this, then," Kiros said. He patted him on the shoulder and took point. "We ought to be well behind enemy lines by now. Stay on your toes."

Laguna sighed, and swiveled to follow suit. He trailed his comrade's swaying dreadlocks towards the ridge just ahead of their position. Discomforting as the buzzing in his head and the pit in his stomach were, they had a mission to fulfill.

They'd been deployed to investigate reports of an Esthar infantry battalion amassing in the area. Thus far, most of the fighting had been confined to the waters and airspace off Galbadia's west coast. With Timber now secured, a reinforced brigade had been established on their side of the Horizon Bridge. Likewise, more troops had recently been dispatched to the northern snowfields to assist Trabia's civilian militia, where enemy forces had reportedly begun advancing on the region. With all other access points cut off, the southern continent of Centra now stood as the sole remaining avenue for an invasion.

It was hallowed land, regarded in history's annals as the ancient cradle of civilization. It had flourished over the course of many millennia, paving the way for both the Dollet and Esthar empires to follow in its wake, until its sudden end 80 years ago. Overnight, the land itself had been torn asunder by what was now theorized to be a meteor strike. The entire continent was obliterated, reduced to a fragmented wasteland. There had been no survivors on record; what few traces of the Centran legacy still stood amid the rubble lay in ruins. All at once, hordes of monsters sprung up across the desecrated land, rendering any attempt at restoration impossible. And so, the once mighty civilization faded away into legend, its remnants abandoned and left to the wilderness that had claimed it. The inhospitable terrain put an assembling army at great risk. The question now was whether Esthar deemed it one worth taking.

Laguna surmounted the ridge to join Kiros. He crouched by his side, and swept his eyes across the lay of the land. A winding trail traced the edge of the cliff, lined by steel guardrails to prevent a fall to the crashing waves below. According to the map, they'd been bound for the crater's northern edge, the great schism which marked the exact spot where the continent had been ripped apart so long ago. The vista was breathtaking to behold. And yet, it was the bulging protrusion further along the cliff-side that stole his attention.

A gargantuan mass of pale green crystal jutted out from the rock face, easily 100 feet in both height and width. Metal scaffolding ran all about its frame, the armored figures moving about its walkways appearing as gnats by comparison. Cranes, automated drills, and other assorted construction vehicles lined the ridge on both sides. This was no infantry battalion, but an excavation operation.

"Holy shit!" Laguna sharply breathed in.

"Well, there's something you don't see every day," Kiros agreed. "You think it might be a piece of the meteor that wiped everything out?"

"Could be," Laguna pondered.

He could scarcely take his eyes from the giant mass of shimmering stone. As he feverishly looked it up and down, a new idea occurred to him.

"How much do you think it's all worth?"

"I don't think I can count that high," Ward answered. "And good luck trying to haul it all out."

"Looks like that's what they've got in mind, though," Kiros muttered. "I guess they've got their android workers to handle the worst of it. But, hey, at least they're not gearing up for an invasion, like we thought. I suppose that's mission accomplished. Time to head back."

"Y'know… it's been hell just gettin' here," Laguna started. A mischievous grin crept across his lips. "I'd hate to go back empty-handed. So, what'dya say we nab us a few souvenirs for our troubles?"

"You're joking," Ward shot him down, his face the very image of incredulity. "You think you're gonna just walk in, carve out a chunk, and walk back out? If you wanna try, be my guest, but you're going it alone."

"I'm with Ward," Kiros backed him up. "Don't let greed be your undoing, Laguna. Think about the mission."

"Screw the mission!" Laguna snapped. He rose from his knees, and turned to face them. "This's been a long time comin', but as soon as this op's finished, I'm cuttin' ties with the army. I've been thinkin' it since Timber, and I've finally made up my mind. I don't want any part of this damn war anymore!"

He cast his mind back again to the burning woodlands. As he'd watched the mammoth funeral pyre consume the lives of thousands, so too had his own will to fight been ripped from him and tossed on the kindling. He could never bring himself to serve such a cause. He knew his true calling lay elsewhere. His all too brief evening with Julia had been the final push he'd needed to take the plunge, to pursue his dreams just as she longed to pursue hers. The time for idling was long past. Now was the time to take action.

"It's time to start livin' life on my own terms! I'm finally gonna start my career as a journalist, like I've been tellin' you guys. And with just a little bit of that crystal, I'll have the funds to make that leap comfortably. So, just humor me this one time, will ya? Show a little support for a man when he needs it!"

[He knows what he wants in life. Good for him, I guess.]

Maybe this feeling's my conscience telling me when something's the right thing to do.

"Laguna," Kiros spoke, his eyes tightly shut as he fought to remain stoic. "We've always supported you. And it's because we support you that we aren't going to let you throw your life away on a whim. You're not thinking straight. You need to calm down and take a step back for a minute."

"And let the biggest opportunity of my life slip by? Hell, forget me, this could be a big break for all of us! Don't tell me you guys are okay with what happened back in Timber. We're turnin' into the bad guys here!"

"And how's getting yourself killed going to help?" Ward warned him; his tone was unusually sincere. "I've got plenty of issues with this war, and if you want out, I won't blame you for a second. But Kiros is right. You can't just go rushing in half-cocked. I'm telling you this from experience."

He pointed his thick index finger to his scar; it trailed the left side of his face from his bandanna down to his stubbled beard.

"This is the price you pay for being reckless."

Those piercing blue eyes of his were more serious now than Laguna had ever seen. His own fell away to the gravelly mountain terrain at his feet. He knew his squadmates' rationale was sound. He recognized the danger involved. He understood how slim his chances were. And yet, for the sake of starting his life anew, to pursue the dream Julia had encouraged him to shoot for, the risk seemed worth it. He had nowhere else to go should he resign from the army. Fate had suddenly offered him a boon in his hour of need. To let it pass him by was something he could never come to terms with.

"Don't make the same mistake I did, Laguna," Ward's voice met his ears again. "We're only looking out for you. As your comrades… as your friends."

Laguna raised his head slowly, brushing away the strands of lengthy dark brown hair. His eyes instantly shot wide open in surprise. A platoon of four Esthar soldiers in sleek armored bodysuits crept up behind the two. Their glaives were drawn.

"Get down!" he shouted.

He frantically fumbled over his shoulder for his assault rifle, but he was too slow. The nearest soldier leapt for Ward, and drew the blade across his neck. The hulking man's eyes went wide; he began choking as a streak of crimson spilled down his armor. Kiros spun around, drew his katars, and promptly sliced the attacker to ribbons in a whirlwind of blood-red steel. Ward fell to his knees, both hands clutching his gullet. Laguna roared in despair. Finally having retrieved his rifle, he unloaded a barrage of bullets into the remaining three. The soldiers jerked in place as the rounds tore through their bodysuits, and fell to the ground.

"Ward!" Kiros yelped. He sheathed his blades, and knelt beside his friend's still convulsing body.

Laguna turned his gaze back to the excavation site. In the wake of his weapon's fire, the metal scaffolding surrounding the crystal was now positively abuzz.

"It… it was… fun… you guys," Ward faintly eked out as Kiros began wrapping bandages around his neck. His voice was shattered.

"Don't talk like that, man!" Laguna ordered. "In fact, don't say another word! Save your strength, 'cause we're gettin' outta this!"

He reached down to his utility belt to retrieve the wireless com-link they'd been provided. He grabbed Kiros' arm, and shoved the device into his palm.

"When you're done patching him up, get him back down and radio for evac. I'll buy you some time."

"You're not still going to try what I think you are?!" he gasped.

"Just get a move on!" Laguna commanded. He shoved a fresh magazine into his assault rifle, and pulled back the loading mechanism. "I'll see you on the other side… whichever one it ends up being. Thanks for everything. Both of you."

He quickly swiveled away from his comrade's horrified face, and tore off along the edge of the ridge. Gunshots erupted from the scaffolding, peppering the cliff-side all around him. He returned fire without breaking stride. The bodies of enemy soldiers slumped over the railings, and plummeted down to the crashing waves. His determination kept him pushing forward; if today would indeed be his last day of service, he would cap off his tour of duty in a blaze of glory.

His friends truly had always been there for him when he'd needed their support. Now was his time to return the favor by providing a diversion for them. If he could manage to nick a piece of crystal in the process, all the better. It was a long shot, but he refused to stop now. His dream might not have been a grand one, but he knew in his heart it was one worth fighting for.

He drew ever closer to the massive crystal, mowing down any soldier that stood in his way. He slid to a halt beside a thick crane cable; it stretched down roughly 30 feet to the excavation site's base level. Below, dozens of infantry swarmed about like a frenzied ant colony, several hauling a set of heavy machine gun turrets into position. Laguna grabbed both grenades from his belt, pulled the pins one after the other, and lobbed them over the edge. He seized hold of the crane cable with one arm, and swung himself over as they detonated. The surviving soldiers scattered. He unloaded into them with his rifle as he dangled precariously above. Even as the recoil threatened to send him flying off the cable, he maintained his grip, only letting it slacken once he'd expended every last round.

He carefully slid himself down into the smoldering fray. What soldiers hadn't been caught in the twin explosions lay riddled with bullets. He quickly ejected the empty magazine, and grabbed another from his bandoliers. The crystal sphere towered immediately before him, shimmering in the late afternoon sun. All around lay the toppled and smoking remains of drilling equipment, blown apart by the blasts. It mattered little to Laguna. All he needed was one functional piece of equipment to carve out a small chunk. Even a pickaxe would suffice.

Approaching footsteps from beyond the veil of smoke caught his attention; they sounded significantly heavier, and more methodical in rhythm. Three more Esthar soldiers stepped forward into the fray, and charged him with their glaives extended. Laguna raised his rifle again, and fired. To his horror, the bullets did little to slow their approach. Sparks flew from the exposed mechanized exoskeletons beneath their uniforms.

Androids?!

He barely managed to shift his weapon into a parry as the first robot soldier rushed him. It brought its glaive down on the body of the outstretched rifle. The force of the blow was far stronger than an average soldier's, sending his feet skidding backwards. The second leapt in from the side at that moment, forcing him to backpedal away; the blade swooshed through the air where he'd been standing just before. Without any time to catch his breath, the third charged in from the left, its elbow lowered into a ramming position. It slammed into Laguna's chest, knocking the wind from his lungs.

He barreled backwards, and toppled through the railing at the edge of the precipice. And then, before he knew it, he was falling. He stared up in shock as he plummeted to the water's surface. The wind whipped through his hair. He shut his eyes in dread anticipation.

Looks like this really is my last day on the job. Kiros, Ward… I'm sorry…

Squall shot upright with a gasp. His head and heart were pounding, his nerves on fire. The fall had been so real, so terrifying, and he so helpless to do anything to stop it. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, willing his pulse to slow. That he was back in his own body was his only comfort. Being the fourth time in two weeks, it was now obvious that these visions were something more than mere dreams. He couldn't fathom the cause, nor if what he'd experienced each time were reality or his own twisted imagination. Whatever the case, they were remarkably life-like; he could feel Laguna's emotions, and practically hear his inner thoughts. It frightened him to consider what might happen if he were to die in that world.

Is that what just happened?

The pounding in his chest and head slowly receded. He finally lifted his eyes from the crimson duvet, only then realizing he had no idea where he was. It looked to be a spacious infirmary wing; the grey walls were far more drab than Balamb Garden's, illuminated by dim fluorescent lighting. There were no windows, nor a physician on standby. Bed after bed lined the wall, each with a small metallic nightstand beside; his gunblade stood propped up against the one next to his own. Not a single other was taken. The room's cold, lifeless atmosphere seemed more akin to a morgue than an infirmary. Perhaps he had died after all, and passed into purgatory, where he now waited to be judged for his life's deeds.

The automatic door across from him hissed open. In stepped his only proof he had not departed the mortal realm.

"Squall!" Rinoa blurted out.

She rushed to his bedside, and threw her arms around him. Just as before, the sudden lunge briefly registered as an attack. Disoriented and confused as he was, his reflexes wouldn't have been quick enough to counter her regardless. She clung to him for about five seconds before he gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she released the hug. "The way you just collapsed really freaked us out. Zell said it's happened before. Are you sick?"

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Just exhausted, that's all."

"I know we've put you three through a lot today," she sighed, her worried look turning glum. "And, uh… I think I might have said too much before. You know, in the woods. I'm sorry, Squall. I should've just kept my mouth shut."

He remembered her choice words to him on the trail. It suddenly occurred that they'd been eerily similar to Zell's before his previous episode on the intercontinental express. Could there have been a connection? Was it some series of words or emotions that had somehow triggered the fainting response in him? The notion was ludicrous, but then, nothing else about the situation seemed to make any more sense.

"Forget about it," he played it off. "So, I take it we're in Galbadia Garden?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, standing back up. "Zell carried you here after you collapsed."

"You know, you're a lot heavier than you look."

The comment came from the door. The tattooed blonde stepped on through, followed by a giddy Selphie.

"Great to see you're back up a lot quicker this time!" the girl beamed as she pranced over. She strode up along the opposite side of the bed from Rinoa, beside his gunblade. "Let's hope that means you're getting better."

"That reminds me," Squall grunted. He raised his wristwatch to his eyes. "How long was I out?"

"A bit over a half-hour this time," Zell answered.

"A half-hour?"

Squall mulled over the curious time frame; once again, it seemed the time he'd been asleep directly correlated with how long he'd spent in Laguna's body.

"Yeah, good thing we didn't have much further to go. I just hoisted you over my shoulder and set you down here once we got in. Guess we're even for the piggyback ride, huh?"

"Thanks," he mumbled. He could hardly believe the incident in question had happened that very same morning.

"After we dropped you off, the three of us went to go grab a bite in the cafeteria," Rinoa explained. "Quistis went to explain our situation to the headmaster. We agreed we'd meet back here."

"And do we have any news?" Squall asked. "Anything about the Garden or Seifer?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," a familiar voice called from the doorway. Quistis entered, brushing her blonde fringes from her face. "But before that, are you okay? Zell and Selphie said this has happened before."

"I'm fine," he insisted, growing irritable from the constant pestering. "Just tired. I'll be alright once I get some rest."

"If you say so," she muttered as she reached the foot of his bed.

"So?" Zell asked. "How'd it go? What's the news on the Garden?"

"Firstly, Headmaster Martine understands our situation. He's arranged guest rooms for us."

Quistis reached into her back pouch. She procured a set of keycards, and fanned them out.

"Only four?" Squall frowned.

"I think it's better you stay put here, in case your condition changes again," she explained.

"Whatever," he muttered as the three around him each took a card.

"As for Balamb Garden, it's safe. Seifer's attack on the president was classed as an independent action. That's why the additional troops were withdrawn from Timber earlier. The government released an official notice that SeeD is not being held responsible. So, on that front, we can all breathe easy."

Zell let out a sigh. Squall shared his relief, but continued to hold his breath; there was still the matter she hadn't yet addressed.

"So, you're saying Seifer's taking all the blame?" Selphie put his concern into words.

Quistis hesitated; she closed her eyes, and bowed her head. The question hung in the air for an uncomfortably long time. Squall intuitively knew the answer before it left her mouth.

"His... his sentence has been carried out."

The infirmary's unwelcoming chill became a freezing tundra. The faces of the three around him all gaped in awe. Squall had expected as much from the moment Seifer had been swept away by the sorceress' dark magic. Even so, nothing could have prepared him to actually receive direct confirmation of it. Seconds passed in silence. Finally, Rinoa collapsed to her knees, burying her face in the duvet by Squall's thigh.

"He… he was executed?" she whimpered. "Of course, he was… he attacked the president. He sacrificed himself… just to help us… just to help our cause."

"I'm sorry," Quistis gently replied. "But I'm sure he was prepared for it. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come all this way. I didn't believe it when he said it, but… he really was just fighting for what he believed in. To follow his dream, and to make a difference for the people who were important to him."

'Follow his dream…'

Squall recalled Laguna's own determination. Foolish though it might have been, he too had taken a stand for a future he believed in, and paid the price for it. Seifer was fundamentally no different. After his time spent in the body of the hopeless Galbadian soldier, who'd aspired for more than what life had dealt him, he now understood how his rival must have felt.

"Damn," Zell swore, his head hung in despair. "I never liked the guy, but… executed? That's just…"

"I… I really liked him," Rinoa sniffled. She clutched at the silver ring she wore around her neck. "He was confident, smart… sometimes childish, but always so sweet. Just by talking to him, I felt like I could take on the world."

"So, you two were… pretty serious?" Selphie asked.

"We met last summer… we made so many good memories together, and… I think… maybe it was love?"

"Do you still love him?"

"If I didn't, it wouldn't hurt this much!" she bawled. She pressed her face further into the mattress.

"It's… hard for me to think of many good memories of him," Quistis spoke; tears had begun spilling down her cheeks. "I've seen some troubled children before, but he was beyond troubled. I knew he must have been hurting deeply under it all. No matter how hard I tried, he'd always refuse my help. You must have something really special to have gotten him to open up like that. Something… I could never have…"

The more Squall listened to the impromptu wake, the more intensely his stomach churned. For better or worse, whether esteemed or infamous, Seifer had left a lasting impression on them all. Now, as they mourned his passing, he'd ceased to be a man, and become only a memory, his legacy free to be twisted and remolded as each saw fit. That even Quistis and Zell sought to find something good to say about him was telling. Would he have wanted to be remembered with such pity? It led Squall to wonder if Laguna's own teammates would have done the same. Would they have looked back on him with such melancholy, and allowed their memory of him to be perverted by his tragic end?

Will they… talk about me like this when I die, too?

The thought was too much to bear. He clutched the sheets in fury. He would not stand to have his memory tarnished and twisted by those who knew nothing about him. There would be no eulogy for him, no gathering of his closest friends to trade stories of how he'd affected their lives, and certainly no pity for a man who'd lived his life without direction, without any dream for his future until it inevitably passed him by.

Not for me…

"Squall?" Quistis called to him. "Are you okay?"

"I won't have it!"

He viciously thrust the sheets off, swung himself out of bed, swatted Selphie aside with one hand, and snatched his gunblade with the other.

"Are you mad?!" the battered girl shrieked.

He stormed on by her and out the infirmary door. He navigated the Garden halls in a furious haze. He had no idea where he was going, and neither did he care. All he needed was a place to be alone, from everyone and everything. Corridors and faces flew by in a blur; none registered to him for more than a second. He pressed on for what felt like hours. By the time he finally reached the main entrance, he couldn't possibly have retraced his way back even if he'd wanted to.

He emerged onto the ornately decorated front pathway, passing the grand stone fountain to the flower beds on the edge of the grounds. The sun had fully set by now; the floating halo above was the only light that helped him find his way out into the fields. He finally settled on a patch of grass on the Garden's out-most perimeter, lay down on his back, and gazed up at the starry night sky. It was as picturesque as he'd seen it through the ballroom's domed ceiling nine days ago, when life had still been so simple. The cool breeze washed over him. Slowly, his seething anger began to dissipate. And yet, for what comfort his isolation provided him, it could not mend the strain on his heart.

He couldn't remember when they'd met, or how, only that he and Seifer had been rivals for as long as they'd attended Balamb Garden. The boy had been his nemesis, his tormentor, and the hotheaded devil on his shoulder. But, more than all that, he'd been his inspiration. He'd given him the drive to push himself to become a better fighter. He'd lived life by his own code of honor, on his own terms, the way Squall wished he could. He was both his greatest enemy, and his ultimate ideal. Now that he was gone, what drive did Squall have left to improve himself? What did he have left to give his life purpose? Seifer had found his, and gladly paid the price for his romantic dream.

Where… where is my dream?

Chapter Text

The boy darted out the wooden door. He raced down the small flight of stone steps, breaking onto the ivy-covered trail leading out of the grounds. Fresh pollen from the great flower garden met his nose, its sweet scent a bitter reminder of what he would be leaving behind. He knew nothing of the outside world; he had no idea where he would start his search once he'd made it to the mainland. It was surely no place for a child on his own, but that no longer mattered to him. He'd wallowed in his loneliness for long enough. For that familiar comfort, he would travel any distance.

I'll find you, Sis… no matter what…

He stumbled forward as fast as his little legs could manage, his tiny shoes rustling through the weeds poking up from the cracked walkway. Just as he was halfway to the front gate, he ground to a halt. A tall figure suddenly emerged from behind the stone annex to the left; he stepped out onto the path, his stare fixed to the flower garden trailing into the distance. The boy's eyes bulged as he saw the two swords the man held in either hand. One looked as if it had come straight out of a knight's tale that had been read to him, the other a wicked, curved scimitar. Both were stained crimson, glistening in the sunlight.

The man's clothes were torn and ragged, their limp tatters blowing in the faint breeze. As he turned his head, the terror was complete. His deathly pale face was a horrible wreck, bruised, beaten, and scarred. The boy reeled back. He'd been reminded not to talk to strangers numerous times. But then, even if he never had, the fear he felt urged him to stay away all the same. He stood still as a statue as the man looked him up and down. Finally, the stranger's taut lips curled into a faint smile.

"Still looking for her, aren't you?"

The boy's eyes widened even more. His mouth fell open. Countless questions flew through his mind at once. Who was he? Why was he here? How did he know where he was going? Was he the one who'd taken Sis away? Why were his swords covered in blood? Whose blood was it? And would he be next?

"W-what-" he stammered, his legs quivering.

The man took a step forward, his foot crinkling on the twisted ivy. Scared beyond comprehension, the boy spun around and bolted back to the house, screaming his lungs out all the way.

"Help! Someone! Anyone! Help me!"

He dared not look back over his shoulder. His heart pounded in his small chest, feeling as though it might explode at any moment. He'd nearly reached the steps when a shroud of swirling black mist sprung up right in front of him. He skidded to a stop immediately. His feet became entangled in the ivy, sending him toppling backwards onto his rear. The dark portal thickened, rapidly growing in size, until a second, equally horrifying figure emerged from it.

The hunched woman shuffled forward, snarling in rage. She clutched at her bloodied torso; the seeping fluid spilled down her stomach, and melded with her tattered scarlet dress. The otherworldly yellow glow of her eyes stared directly into his own. He couldn't move. He couldn't even scream for help, so terrified he was. Boxed in on both sides, helpless to flee, his vision faded to black as the woman took another step towards him.

"Stay away!"

Squall's eyes shot open to the blinding glare of the morning sun. He groaned as he quickly shielded them with his arm. The light did nothing to cleanse the eerie nightmare from his retinas.

As if these damn Laguna dreams weren't bad enough…

His heart pounding frantically, he closed his eyes again, allowing the sunlight's warmth to embrace him. The panic soon dissipated as it had in the infirmary. Clearly, the sorceress' appearance must have perturbed Squall more severely than he'd thought. The nightmare notwithstanding, his sleep on the grassy patch had been surprisingly sound. Given all he'd been through in the last day however, he likely would have slept like a log regardless. Nothing could have prepared him for such a grueling ordeal. Being saddled with the burden of leadership through it all only made matters worse. He desperately hoped that the Galbadia Garden headmaster had already sent word to Balamb; the sooner their extraction came, the better.

"Lovely day fer a snooze, ain't it?"

The twangy, easygoing voice snapped Squall from his musings. He peeked open his eyes. A tall silhouette loomed over him, eclipsing the sun's glare. The young man's sharp facial features and blue eyes slowly came into focus. A black cowboy hat sat atop his disheveled light brown hair. He wore a khaki longcoat with a pair of brown leather chaps. A bullet belt lined with shotgun shells circled his waist.

"Thing is, yer kinda snoozin' on my turf."

Squall scowled in annoyance. He sat up and reached for his gunblade lying on the grass next to him.

"Whatever," he grunted, shifting himself along. "Didn't realize this part of the lawn was reserved."

"S'all right," the cowboy grinned as he lowered himself.

He kicked up his right knee and brought his forearm down to rest atop. He wiped away the bangs of hair trailing down either side of his face; the rest was tied up in a ponytail.

"Hafta say, I got a lil' excited when I saw that puppy lyin' next to ya. Thought it was the world's biggest six-shooter fer a sec."

"Sorry to disappoint," Squall replied. He hurriedly clipped the sheath back to his entwined belts. "I'll be going now."

"What's the rush? I didn't say ya had to up and leave. 'Sides, ya got good taste, even if swords ain't my personal cuppa tea."

"I came here to be alone."

He was coming to resent the man's carefree attitude ever more by the second. With the previous day's events and Seifer's execution still weighing on his mind, he had little patience for such laxness.

"Join the club," the cowboy responded, not seeming to notice the contradiction. "I know better than anyone what it's like to be a loner. Waitin' in the shadows while the world keeps movin' on all 'round ya."

Squall turned his head back, his curiosity suddenly piqued. The young man had drawn a double barreled shotgun from his left side. His fingerless black gloves clutched the grip reverently as the polished chrome barrel shimmered in the sunlight.

"It's the nature o' the sharpshooter," he spoke. His eyes washed over the firearm as if in a trance. "Comes with the territory an' all. We hone our instincts fer years. We learn to live with the loneliness. To love the thrill o' the anticipation. The pressure o' the moment, that instant o' tension just before the trigger's pulled, to hafta focus your whole bein' into a single bullet… it's a rough life out in the field, an' every man faces it alone."

Maybe there's more to this guy than I thought?

"But, 'cha know, it's got its perks," he shot Squall a cheeky grin. "The ladies love the suave, mysterious types, am I right?"

Never mind.

"Hate to break it to you, but the thing about being a loner is it doesn't work with two people."

"Alright, mister moody," he replied. He pulled back his longcoat, and stowed the shotgun in the leather holster at his side. "Man, a mopey attitude like that really takes me back…"

The sharpshooter trailed off as Squall swept his eyes across the Monterosa Plateau. To his right, a cobbled pathway trailed out of the Garden grounds; it snaked along a small stretch of open land to the forest where he'd collapsed. A chain of hills flanked the trees on either side, leading north to the great lake between the Gotland and Malgo peninsulas. They were meager compared to the Gaulg mountains, but served to stoke his nostalgia all the same.

He craned his neck back to the Garden. Its massive scarlet body extended across campus for the better part of a mile in each direction. While not as tall as Balamb Garden, it was no less grand, and perhaps even wider. The halo above resembled a perfectly circular, golden headdress; there was no cross-shaped crest nor silver flourishes jutting out from the center. A mere three days away, and he was already homesick. He longed to return to his familiar daily routine, if such a thing were even possible anymore. Seifer's tragic end aside, the sorceress' appearance changed everything.

"Say, where ya from, anyway?"

He turned back to the cowboy. His steely blue eyes stared Squall down from beneath the brim of his hat. The easygoing smirk was gone.

"What does it matter to you?" he responded defiantly.

"Jus' curious. Yer definitely not from 'round these parts. Livin' here woulda whipped that attitude right outta ya. So, c'mon, what's yer story?"

Squall's reluctance went beyond his general dislike of the nosey young man. The blame for the incident in Timber might have been laid at Seifer's feet officially, but it did nothing to wipe away his group's association with the Owls. Galbadia Garden's alliance with the military remained cause for concern; it would only take one loudmouthed student to go flapping their lips to the wrong person for them to end up in hot water yet again. After a moment's consideration, he realized that simply saying he was a foreign student was not necessarily an admission of guilt. He could just as easily pass himself off as an exchange student, or otherwise on assignment.

"If you must know, I'm from Balamb Garden."

"Ah, that so?" the sharpshooter tipped his hat. His grin reappeared. "So, you with those three that jus' showed up this mornin'?"

Squall instantly sat up straight.

"What? From Balamb?"

"I take it that's a no?" he frowned. "I passed 'em comin' into the main hall 'bout an hour ago. Two guys an' a chick. Pretty weird lookin', if ya ask me."

"What do you mean, 'weird looking'? How so?"

"Well, the head o' the pack looked pretty normal, jus' some guy in a SeeD uniform. But the two with him… one was this really tall, tanned, muscly guy, showin' off his pecs. The other was this freaky lookin' girl with silver hair an' an eye-patch. Real choosy 'bout her words from what I caught."

Squall leapt to his feet; there was no mistaking those descriptions. He turned on a dime, and bolted back towards the entrance. Had they been sent to extract them?

"Hey!" the cowboy hollered after him. "Ya didn't tell me yer name!"

"Wouldn't you like to know?!" Squall called back.

He sprinted by the stone fountain, and passed through the turnstiles. The main atrium was nowhere near the dimensions of Balamb Garden's, nor did it take up the entire central structure, but rather acted as a spacious antechamber branching off in four directions. The left and right-hand halls wrapped around the Garden's circumference, while the corridor straight ahead stretched ever deeper into the academy's center. The open space between the four intersecting walkways was dotted with benches and trimmed foliage. Sunlight streamed through the glass domed ceiling above. Squall's anger the previous night must have been intense for him not to remember any of it.

The general atmosphere in the air was far more austere. Swarms of students milled about, their uniforms charcoal with red flourishes on the sleeves and collars. Despite their number, both on the ground floor and upper balcony, the noise level was remarkably low. It was a welcome change of pace for Squall, for whom the hustle and bustle of Balamb Garden's atrium could be overbearing at times. He tore across the divide, blowing by the central directory. He had no idea where to begin his search, but figured they would be easy to pick out against the student body clad in black.

Why were they the ones sent? Has anyone told them about Seifer yet?

He scoured the unfamiliar halls for nearly 20 minutes, his journey leading him by the cafeteria, gymnasium, outdoor tennis courts, and grand auditorium. He came up empty handed each time. If nothing else, the amount of backtracking helped him to familiarize himself with the winding, metallic labyrinth; few corridors featured any distinguishing characteristics to mark the way. It was enough to make him feel a touch of sympathy for Selphie.

Finally, he turned the right corner. A streak of blue popped into sight against the stream of black uniforms. She stood beside the hall's restroom entrance, her short silver hair practically blending in with the wall's chrome plating. Her lone functional eye swiveled to Squall as he approached.

"Fujin!" he greeted her. "I heard you and Raijin were here. Did you come to take us back to Balamb?"

"Negative," she spoke bluntly.

"Then what are you here for?"

"Orders."

Why did I think this was going to go any differently?

"Hey, long time no see, y'know?"

He turned his eyes to the restroom. Raijin emerged from the men's side, tightening the thick red rope around his baggy black trousers.

"What are you two doing here?" Squall asked. "Fujin says you're not here to extract us."

"Nah, sorry," the muscled man shook his head. "We didn't even know you was here, y'know? We're jus' droppin' off orders to this place's headmaster. From what he said, sounds like it's got somethin' to do with you."

"With us? What kind of orders?"

"You're askin' the wrong guy. We're jus' the poor saps that got sent to deliver 'em, y'know? Came all the way by boat, up an' around Long Horn Island up north. Whole trip took more than 14 hours."

"Punishment," Fujin added.

"Yeah, this's what we get for coverin' for Seifer, y'know? Speakin' o' which, you heard anythin' about him? He took off a couple days ago, an' we've been askin' around ever since. They've been keepin' us in the dark the whole time."

A lump caught in Squall's throat. Surely the administration had their reasons for hiding the truth from them. Indeed, it might very well have been the reason they'd been sent on this assignment, away from the Garden. They would doubtless be crushed to learn of their friend's death. And yet, to leave them oblivious seemed a far crueler fate. As much as it would hurt them to hear, they deserved to know.

"You didn't hear this from me, but Seifer… was captured by Galbadia. Word came in last night that he was executed for attacking the president."

"What?!" Raijin bellowed, drawing the attention of every cadet in the hall.

"Lies!" Fujin stomped her foot.

"Yeah, no way! Seifer'd never let himself go out like a punk! He's better than that."

"I'm sorry," Squall tried to calm them. "But that's what we heard. He attacked the president. So, it's only to be-"

"Hey, you two!"

The voice came from down the hall. Squall's eyes flitted about the corridor, until he spotted a SeeD uniform amid the mob of cadets. The young man's brown hair was casually combed to one side.

Why does he look familiar?

"What's with all the racket?" he chastised them. "Let's get going. The trip back isn't going to be any shorter."

"Excuse me, sir?" Squall addressed him as the crowd began to disperse. He performed the SeeD salute. "Squall Leonhart, gunblade specialist, first class."

"Leonhart?" he muttered. His eyes lit up as they landed on Squall's forehead. "Oh, I remember you! From the exam, right? You were on the team we shared the vessel with."

So, that's it.

"Aaron Writ, dragoon, first class," he returned the salute. "So, you must be with the squad Headmaster Martine mentioned."

"About that… Raijin said the orders you were sent to deliver pertain to me and my squadmates. What kind of orders are they? Is the administration going to send someone to evacuate us soon?"

"I don't know the details," Aaron replied. "All he said is that it's a joint operation between Balamb and Galbadia, and apparently your squad is going to be the one carrying it out."

"Joint operation?" Squall repeated, utterly perplexed. "But why us? We're still under contract for our current mission. I'm sure Headmaster Cid is aware of this."

"I told you, I don't have the answers. But if that's what the orders say, then we have to abide by them. For now, you'll just have to stay put until the briefing. Feel free to ask Headmaster Martine anything you want when you meet with him. Whatever the case, best of luck. Fujin, Raijin, let's go."

Aaron motioned for them to follow behind. He pivoted and traipsed on down the corridor.

"Soon as we get the chance, we're comin' back here and findin' Seifer," Raijin swore. "He's not dead. No way."

"Impossible," Fujin affirmed.

The two started after their superior officer. They followed him to the end of the hall, soon disappearing around the corner. Squall remained standing by his lonesome, left to wonder just how they could remain so loyal to their leader. Even were it only from two select people, Seifer had commanded great respect indeed. It again reminded him of Laguna, and the bonds he'd shared with his teammates, right up until the end.

For all the good it did either of them. Every man faces death by himself. Why should life be any different?

Wooden sticks clacked together. Steel scraped against ice. The practicing team on the hockey rink swiped, skated, and passed the puck with utmost skill. Aside from functioning as an intermediary between SeeD and the nation's military, Galbadia Garden's secondary claim to greatness was owed to its athletics program. Year after year, the student body were a force to be reckoned with at the annual Garden Sports Summit.

With the stands vacant, Quistis was at leisure to watch the off-season training from wherever she pleased. The arena's chill washed over her. It barely elicited a shiver; arm warmers and gloves aside, her proficiency with ice spellcraft had helped her build up a resistance to the cold. And yet, there was nothing that could warm the frigid chill on her soul.

The news of Seifer's fate had been a devastating blow. She could barely believe the report when Martine had read it to her. The boy had been a reckless fool and a fantastical dreamer, scorning every effort she'd made to support him. She'd recognized his antics for what they really were: a hurt soul lashing out. No matter his faults, he'd always shown great potential. Perhaps he could have made something of himself had he not been so brash, and quick to take matters into his own hands.

Or maybe if I'd been just a little quicker myself…

It was difficult to convince herself that it hadn't been her fault on some level. Perhaps Squall, too, felt responsible for not being able to stop him; the unbecoming rage with which he'd stormed out of the infirmary was proof enough. Rivals though they'd been, there had been an unmistakable rapport between them, something that went beyond words, and served to bring the best out of each other in training. They were two of a kind, in a class all their own.

"Mind if I join you?"

She turned her head to meet Rinoa's solemn stare. Her eyes were red and puffy; it must have been a sleepless night. For what discomfort Quistis felt, it couldn't possibly hold a candle to her sorrows.

"Of course," she motioned to the seat beside her. The girl lowered herself, tugging her duster sweater around her for warmth. "How are you holding up?"

"A little better, I guess," she muttered. "I'm just trying not to think about it. It still doesn't seem real… any of it. It's like the whole world just went crazy all at once."

"No one could have predicted what happened yesterday," Quistis agreed. "It'll be okay, though. The headmaster assured me he'd get in touch with Balamb Garden right away. You'll be safe once we arrive back home."

"It's not me I'm worried about. Zone, Watts, and the rest of the guys… I can't believe I just left them behind. I hope they're getting along somehow."

"Your friend by the station was a real life saver," Quistis remembered. "I hope I can repay him someday."

"He likes dirty magazines," Rinoa hinted.

"I'll… keep that in mind," she smiled awkwardly. That the girl could make such quips gave her hope.

"I'm… also worried about Squall," she admitted. Her words were barely audible over the clacking hockey sticks.

"You and me both," Quistis sighed. "I know he doesn't handle pressure very well. He's easily overstimulated. Whenever it gets to be too much, he ends up going into his own little world. And when it all boils over… well, you saw how he was last night. But I've never seen him pass out like that before."

"I think… maybe I pushed him too far," Rinoa murmured.

"Zell and Selphie said the same thing happened before they even got to Timber. Whatever the reason, it has nothing to do with you."

"But I couldn't have been helping. He told me how terrible my plans were, how I was just using him and the others without considering how they felt. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was being unfair, and taking them for granted. I… I really want to make it up to him somehow."

Quistis knew nothing of the group's activities prior to her arrival. Whatever the details, Rinoa's desire to cheer him up was clearly misplaced. She recalled her own attempt to approach him at the ball, when he'd been in the throes of one of his episodes; in hindsight, perhaps Rinoa herself had been at least partially responsible for his foul mood. It would be best if he were left to cool down on his own. Any meddling would only be liable to reignite the fire. She opened her mouth to explain, when the academy's four-tone chime came over the loudspeakers.

"Attention, please," the PA crackled to life. "Will the SeeD party from Balamb Garden, as well as cadet Irvine Kinneas please assemble in the headmaster's office? Repeat…"

"Is our ride here?" Rinoa wondered. She rose to her feet, and stepped into the aisle.

"We can only hope," Quistis said. "Follow me."

The two ascended the steps to the exit. Quistis navigated the winding halls with ease, falling back on muscle memory from her training seminar two years prior. Like Balamb Garden, the headmaster's office sat on the top floor. It was accessible only by a private elevator at the heart of the academy, requiring a special keycard to operate. Only those students expressly summoned were permitted to pick one up from the nearby security station. For Quistis, there was no need; she'd been provided one last night along with her teammates' room keys.

After several minutes spent traversing the packed corridors, they arrived at their destination. Zell and Selphie waited beside the red, cylindrical metal doors.

"Good to see you both found your way here," Quistis said.

"That's what the directory's for!" Selphie smiled. "Lesson learned from Balamb!"

"Any idea where Squall is?" Rinoa asked.

"Comin' in at six-o'-clock, looks like," Zell pointed behind her.

Quistis pivoted around. Their man of the hour approached from further down the hall. He trudged at a leisurely pace, his head hung with his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Best not to say anything until we know what the situation is," she spoke in a hushed tone.

"Sure thing," Zell agreed. "So, you think evac is finally here?"

"You wish," Squall said as he strode up. "We've got new orders, just dropped off this morning from Balamb. Some kind of joint op."

"Joint op?" Quistis repeated. She recalled Xu's mention of such an assignment, as the topic of the emergency meeting two nights ago.

"Let's head up. The sooner we know what we're doing, the better."

Quistis stepped forward in agreement. She swiped the keycard through the reader to the side. The curved metal doors opened to a glass lift not unlike Balamb Garden's own. The five piled aboard, Squall jamming the door-close button as soon as the tail of Rinoa's duster sweater cleared the frame. They rose up the shaft in silence, the floor indicator climbing higher until the lift slowed at the fifteenth floor.

The doors opened with a chime. A stretch of red carpet extended forward across an ornately decorated hall, its color scheme noticeably drearier than Headmaster Cid's. There stood no towering glass window, but four smaller ones on either side of the room. An impressive amount of plaques lined the walls, each signed or engraved. An elegant mahogany desk sat at the end of the carpet, with a large padded throne just behind. A lone man was seated beneath the banners of SeeD and Galbadia hanging over his head; both were tethered to a miniature of the Garden's floating halo on the ceiling. He looked up from the file on his desk as they entered, shut the portfolio, and rose.

Headmaster Martine was a wrinkled, middle-aged man with thinning blonde hair. A flashy dresser for as long as Quistis had known him, he wore a striking navy blue robe with gold linings; it was every bit as sharp on him as his burgundy suit the night before. The aides that had been standing guard were gone, leaving him and the five of them alone in the dimly lit hall. She saluted in tandem with the three other SeeDs. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Rinoa awkwardly falling into formation with them.

"At ease," he commanded.

The group lowered their arms as the lift behind them whirred back down to the bottom floor. Martine rounded his desk with the file in hand.

"Good day to you all. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I only wish it were under less trying circumstances. We do not have very much time, so I will be as brief and direct as possible. At Headmaster Cid's request, you have been conscripted to carry out a very important and delicate operation. Trepe, I presume you are the commanding officer? Here are the official orders delivered from Balamb Garden. Please keep them safe."

"Yes, sir."

She held out her hands to graciously accept the portfolio. Though Squall had been the appointed leader of his squad for their assignment in Timber, it was still she who held the highest rank among them. She took the file from Martine's hand, and promptly flipped open the cover. Line upon line of horizontal black bars met her eyes; more than half the text on the first page had been redacted.

"This will be no ordinary operation," he continued as she scanned over what she could make out. "It is one that many in the upper echelons of the Galbadian military, myself included, have been in talks about for some time. The situation has grown dire. We are left with no other course of action. For the future of Galbadia, and indeed the world, we entrust this great responsibility to you."

Quistis' blood froze as she reached the meat of the documentation. She did a double take at what she was reading. It was unthinkable, impossible even, least of all in the manner prescribed.

"The… the orders say 'by means of a sniper'," she spoke, a nervous quiver taking hold of her voice. "We do not have a specialist in that field among us."

"Indeed. It is for that reason Headmaster Cid and I have arranged for one of our own sharpshooters to accompany you. And, here he comes, fashionably late as usual."

Quistis turned around with the others as the elevator whizzed back up. The chime rang out again as the doors parted. A tall man in a longcoat stepped out. He wore a dark cowboy hat atop his wavy brown hair, and a set of leather chaps trailing down to his black boots.

"Son of a bitch," she heard Squall faintly mutter from down the line.

"Got somethin' fer me, chief?" the sharpshooter asked the headmaster in a twangy, carefree tone.

He briefly swept his eyes across the five of them. A smirk came over his face as they landed on Squall.

"Hey, chuckles. Miss me?"

"Ahem!" Martine forcefully cleared his throat. "I present to you Irvine Kinneas, the pride of Galbadia Garden's sharpshooter division. And might I add, he would be better still if he didn't know he was the best."

"Aw, shucks chief," he feigned modesty with a hat tip.

Quistis did not know what to make of the young man's laissez-faire demeanor. Regardless, she trusted he was the right one for the job; Martine's vote of confidence spoke loudly enough.

"Quistis Trepe," she took the initiative. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kinneas. I look forward to working with you."

"Rinoa Heartilly," the girl in blue followed up. "Likewise."

"I'm Selphie! Nice to meet'cha!"

"Zell Dincht. Good to have you aboard!"

"… Squall."

Irvine did not respond right away; the cocky smirk from before abruptly faded from his lips. His eyes shifted once more across the five of them, from Squall, to Zell, Rinoa, Quistis, and finally Selphie. His attention seemed to stay focused on her for significantly longer.

"Nice… nice to meet y'all," he finally spoke. He removed his hat from his head, and bowed to them.

"So, what do we need a sniper for?" Zell asked as he turned back to Martine.

"Take a guess," Squall replied.

"You know what I mean! Who are we takin' out?"

"According to the documents," Quistis gulped, taking a deep breath in through her nose. "We're to assassinate… the sorceress."

A deathly silence fell over the hall. Rinoa, Zell, and Selphie's eyes went wide. Squall hung his head. Irvine merely looked on with curiosity; were there any trace of fear about him, his face betrayed none of it.

"Correct," Martine confirmed. "I'm sure you are all aware of the sorceress' appointment as the president's ambassador. I can assure you, there will be no peace talks to be had with the nations of the world, only threats. Even now, the very mention of a sorceress is still enough to strike fear into the hearts of many. Several of my contacts close to the president have witnessed her powers firsthand. They say it is unlike anything they have ever seen."

They're not wrong…

"She is an uncontrollable force of nature that must be dealt with at once. And so, the fate of the world lies in your hands. That goes doubly for you, Kinneas."

"Don't worry 'bout me, chief," Irvine grinned. He raised his index finger and thumb in the shape of a pistol. "I never miss my target. So, what am I bringin'?"

"Our contact in Deling City will supply you with a rifle. The details will be explained to you when you arrive tomorrow afternoon. Your train tickets are enclosed in the rear of the portfolio, along with the address. Failure is not an option. That is all. Dismissed!"

On command, the newly formed group of six saluted the headmaster, and turned back to the elevator. Quistis perused the documents as she stepped aboard. She reached the back, finding their contact's name and address scrawled on a piece of paper. Six pre-paid ticket stubs were clipped to the parchment, due out of West Academy Station at 0700 the next morning.

"I don't freakin' believe this!" Zell exclaimed as the doors slid shut. "We ask for evac, and they dump this on us?!"

"It's certainly not what I'd hoped for," Quistis agreed. When the commandant had mentioned a joint operation with Galbadia Garden, she never would have imagined herself among those charged with carrying it out.

"Guess we were just in the right place at the right time," Selphie sighed as the lift slowed. They exited back out onto the ground floor. "Maybe it's fate?"

"Gotta say, I'm thinkin' it might jus' be, too," the sly newcomer quipped from the rear. The flirtatious advance was not lost on Quistis.

"At any rate, our train leaves at 0700 tomorrow morning," she cut in. "We're headed to Deling City. There, we'll meet up with General Caraway at his residence."

"Excuse me?!"

Rinoa's sudden outburst ripped through the hall. Quistis swiveled back to her. She looked utterly horrified.

"Is something wrong?" she gently asked.

"Well, yeah," the girl lowered her eyes. "It's just… working with someone that high up in the army… especially since I'm… you know…"

She said nothing more. Her eyes remained downcast. In a flash of intuition, Quistis understood her hesitance; her history was not something to be so casually discussed in the presence of their newly assigned comrade.

"I understand, but the general has a mutual enemy with us in the sorceress. We're going to need all the help we can get to see this mission through. So, for the time being, just try to grin and bear it."

"Easier said than done."

"Whatever," Squall brushed the matter aside. "Let's just make sure we're all ready to go by morning. I guess I'm sleeping in the infirmary?"

"Actually, Squall," Rinoa piped up again.

She rummaged through a small pouch under the tail end of her outfit. She withdrew her room key, and held it out to him.

"You can have my room… please. Selphie, Quistis, would it be okay if I bunk with one of you for the night?"

"Sure thing!" the former lit up, the latter left to ponder just where her motivations truly lay.

"Y'know ladies, Mr. Kinneas' room's got plenty o' vacancy," Irvine teased. "No reservation required."

Martine, just what have you saddled me with this time?!

Chapter Text

For the first time since leaving Balamb Garden, Squall's sleep had been perfectly sound. The bed Rinoa had abdicated to him was a welcome upgrade from the grassy patch. There had been no visions of dim-witted Galbadian soldiers, nor fearsome murderers and witches. He could remember no dreams at all. Terrifying as it was to experience, Laguna's tragic demise assured him his time in the vivid dream world was at an end. It did nothing to ease his dread of what was to come, however. The true nightmare awaited him in Deling City.

The sorceress legends were relics of an era long past; account after account of wicked witches terrorizing the common folk had been passed down since the ancient times. The power they'd allegedly possessed was stipulated to have come from the Great Hyne, the mythical god said to have created the human race. The details were unimportant to Squall; he'd always considered the tales to be nonsense dreamt up by superstitious fanatics, and had told Zell as much when the topic had come up during the field exam.

What little credence there still was in the modern age stemmed from the so-called "Sorceress War". Twenty-one years ago, the ruthless Sorceress Adel had risen to power in Esthar. The daughter of a lower noble, sheltered and largely kept from her nation's political spotlight, the specifics of how, where, and when she'd received her power were shrouded in mystery. Regardless, she'd reportedly made use of it to slaughter Esthar's entire royal family at a celebratory gathering, and taken the throne for herself.

There existed no known recorded footage of the incident to back up the claim. A televised declaration she'd sent out to the world in the aftermath remained the only evidence of her power. To date, its legitimacy was was hotly contested; the fire and lightning spellcraft she'd demonstrated, though striking, could have been doctored. Squall had watched the video during one of his lectures years ago, and noted her magic's similarity to the sort of spellcraft a trained SeeD could call upon. That the GF spheres were produced in Esthar was enough to convince him it had all been a ruse.

In the west, President Deling had been quick to capitalize on the matter, using the threat of invasion to prompt congress to appoint him an indefinite term extension. So began the Sorceress War. The conflict lasted for just over 4 years, culminating in an abrupt ceasefire on the eastern front. Without explanation, Esthar had suddenly withdrawn its troops, shuttered its borders, and severed all contact with the outside world. Seventeen years had passed without incident, leading most to presume Adel had met her end.

Now, another such woman had appeared, bearing power Squall could not so easily write off as a GF's; teleportation was not an ability known to any SeeD. Still he yearned for a sensible explanation to present itself, to reveal it had all been a grand display of smoke and mirrors. There wasn't one. Carrying out a coup against this sorceress was too big a responsibility for him to bear. He could only take the headmaster at his word that Irvine was the right man for the job. If his marksmanship could match his shameless boasting, their success was all but assured.

The six of them had gathered in the main atrium at the break of dawn. In addition to their lodgings, the staff had supplied them with a pair of duffel bags to store their weapons in. Squall hauled his gunblade in the one slung over his shoulder. The other Zell carried contained Selphie's nunchaku and Quistis' whip, along with the mission file. Irvine kept his shotgun and bullet belt concealed within his buttoned longcoat.

They'd reached the station with time to spare, and piled aboard the commuter rail bound northwest for Deling City. The tickets were general admission, the two Gardens having not sprung for a private cabin as on the intercontinental express. Squall took the first available window seat. He leaned back against the cushioned headrest, trying his best to ignore Irvine's antics. The sharpshooter continued to vie for the attention of whichever of the 3 ladies would give him the time of day. None were biting, save for Quistis' persistent reprimanding.

The rail line crossed over the Monterosa Plateau into the verdant Great Plains of Galbadia, trailing through many smaller settlements along the way. Squall assumed very few students commuted to Galbadia Garden; while not isolated on an island, the distance from civilization made it impractical all the same. It was close to an hour before their first stop in Belhelmel, and about half that until they came to Elvoret. The tracks stretched on, crossing another time-zone as they wound into the heart of Galbadia.

After five hours, the train finally pulled into the capital city's underground tunnels. He and his comrades passed through the gold-gilded train terminal, and ascended the escalator to the exit. Freshly arrived tourists swarmed the station square outside. Many clustered around the nearby pick-up zone, pushing and shoving for the next available cab. Colorful banners hung from lamp posts up and down the street. Each bore the gear-shaped Galbadian crest, with a single line of printed text underneath: 'A New Era Begins.'

A massive chromium fountain stood in the plaza's center. Far off in the distance, down the opposing main street, towered a grand golden archway, glistening in the midday sun. The nation's crest had been overlaid above the spoked iron gates. Despite being Squall's first visit to Deling City, the sight of the monument struck a chord within him. It was just as he'd seen it from the bay-window of the hotel room, through eyes not his own.

So, this is where Laguna was from…

"Talk about a commotion!" Zell commented on the bustling crowd. "Something big coming to town?"

"It's already here," Quistis replied, her eyes fixed to the banners hanging from the lamp posts. "And I've got a feeling we're going to be on scene for it, too. Let's find the general's home. I'm sure he'll fill us in on what's going on."

"Where do we even start?" Selphie gawked. "This place is huge! We've got nothing like this up north!"

"Tell me about it," Zell agreed. "Balamb's all I've ever known. What about you, sniper-boy? You know these parts?"

"Been here a couple times fer sightseein'," the gunslinger confirmed. He tipped his hat against the sun's glare. "If we got the time, and ya treat me right, maybe I'll give y'all a lil' tour. Don't got a clue where the general's house's at, though."

"I guess we get a cab, then?" Squall motioned. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. "How much do we have between us?"

"Money's not the issue here," Quistis said. "There's no way the six of us are all going to fit in a cab."

"I won't mind none if somebody's gotta sit on my lap," Irvine mischievously grinned.

"We can just take the bus line," Rinoa finally spoke up. She pointed along the left-hand road. "There should be a stop a bit further down that way that'll bring us by the outer estates."

"Wow, sounds like you know this place pretty well," Zell lauded her.

"It's been a few years. Let's get going. It should be 200 gil per person, assuming the rate hasn't gone up."

She led the way down the station steps, and around the mob of pedestrians. Squall and the others followed behind. He opened the velcro compartment on his wallet to pull out a pair of 100 gil coins. At a SeeD rank of 10, he was entitled to a bi-weekly allowance of 8,000 gil. Having yet to receive his first payment before being sent to Timber however, he was left with only three 1,000 gil bills and some small change to his name.

They came to the bus stop within minutes. The red and black public transport arrived after several more. They filed aboard, dropped their individual fees into the coin collection receptacle, and took their seats. Squall again managed to nab a seat by the window. As the scenery whipped on by through the glass, his thoughts turned again to Laguna.

He could no longer in good conscience dismiss his dreams as mere fantasies. Dozens of questions flew through his mind: What was their meaning? Their cause? Had Laguna been a real person? And if so, why was it through him that Squall had experienced these visions? Were they of the past? The future? Or some alternate reality existing parallel to his own? No one possibility was any less ridiculous than the others. He continued to ponder the unfathomable answers, until at last the bus slowed to a stop.

Rinoa stood up, and gestured for the rest of them to follow. Squall hoisted his bag up over his shoulder, and stepped off after them. Towering private mansions stood on either side of the street, radiant in the midday sun. Their architecture was the definition of aristocratic; each was the size of a small fortress. A massive wall of iron fencing stretched down the road to the next block, keeping their sprawling lawns barred off from the common folk.

"Wow," Selphie looked on in awe as the bus pulled away. "Talk about swanky!"

"Betcha we must stick out pretty bad in this part of town," Zell agreed. "So, what's this guy's address, again?"

"107 Orichalcum Parkway," Rinoa answered him. She pointed her finger to a manor further along the opposite side of the road.

The looming, muted green residence showed nary a trace of visible wear across its exterior. The whole of the structure resembled two castle turrets joined together in the middle. Crimson banners bearing the Galbadian crest hung from the top of either tower, cutting off where a pair of outdoor balconies jutted out beneath. A lengthy stone bridge bisected the grounds below, leading from the barred outer gateway to the large oak doors. It was indeed a home fit for a general. That he would risk throwing it all away testified to the danger posed by the sorceress.

"Damn, that's one hell of a pad," Zell quipped.

"How do you know the address?" Quistis stared Rinoa down. "I don't remember showing you the mission file."

"It's not important," she spoke lowly, her gaze still fixed to the hulking mansion. "You all have a briefing to get to, right? Let's head in and get it over with, already."

"Can't argue with that, I suppose."

The group looked both ways for oncoming traffic before jaywalking across. Quistis took the lead as they strode up to the front gate. She pressed the intercom switch beside the engraved mailbox. The speaker crackled to life moments later.

"This is the private residence of General Caraway," a creaky, elderly voice greeted them. "Please state your business."

"Hello, we are a squad of SeeDs dispatched on behalf of Balamb and Galbadia Gardens," Quistis spoke hastily. "I believe the general is expecting us."

"Indeed he is," the voice replied. "You may enter."

The intercom sputtered out. A metallic clink sounded as the automated lock on the gate disengaged. Squall maneuvered himself to the front of the pack, and pushed the iron bars ajar. He stepped out onto the arching overpass. A glance over either side revealed a verdant flower garden spanning the grounds below. He'd reached the halfway point when a hand suddenly began tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.

"My contract is still in effect, right?" Rinoa pestered him.

Her deep brown eyes stared pleadingly into his own. She seemed more anxious now than she'd been following the battle with the undead monster.

"More orders?" he grumbled.

"Well, if you're gonna put it that way. Look, whatever happens, just don't leave me alone in this house, alright?"

"Why are you being so paranoid? Just pretend you're one of us, like before."

"Yeah, the thing is… that's not really gonna work this time," she sighed as they reached the doors.

Clearly, Rinoa wasn't being forthright with him and the others; there was more to her reluctance than she was letting on. He raised his fist to knock. The door parted before he could. A wrinkle-faced, grey haired man in a black suit stepped into the frame.

"Good day to you all," he bowed before them. "The general is currently in his study. If you'll please follow me, I would be happy to-"

A dog's frantic barking abruptly cut him off. It grew louder as the sound of dashing paws on tile drew closer. Squall stepped aside as a streak of dark brown flew through the aide's legs. The man stumbled, grabbing hold of the door to steady himself. The hound went straight for Rinoa, settling down as it reached her, and sat in place. It began whimpering and whining, its bushy tail wagging a mile a minute.

"Angelo!" the girl greeted the dog. She reached down to playfully fondle its ears with both hands.

Now that it was still, Squall could identify the dog as a shepherd breed, its fluffy brown mane offset by a white breast coat. He turned his head to his squadmates, all of whom looked just as confused as him. The three Balamb operatives' mouths hung agape. The sharpshooter at the back cocked his right eyebrow in apprehension.

"Who's a good girl?" Rinoa baby-talked to the dog as she stroked its back. "Did you miss me? Is that terrible man treating you okay?"

"Young miss?!" the doorman reeled in surprise. "You've returned?!"

"Only on business, Buel," she sternly addressed him. She stood back up straight with her hand still resting on the dog's head. "Just let these five in to see him. I'm gonna take Angelo for a walk."

"Uh, would someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?!" Zell blurted out.

"Right," Rinoa sighed, her face flush with embarrassment. "If you haven't guessed it already… this is kinda my house."

"What do you mean, kinda your house?!"

"Then the general is… your father?" a wide-eyed Quistis asked.

"Well, I wouldn't call him that," she scoffed. She pushed her way past them with Angelo. "It's a long story, and I'm sure he'll be more than happy to tell it to you. See you later."

Squall watched as she retraced her steps across the bridge with her loyal hound, not glancing back for a moment. He'd suspected Rinoa had come from a privileged upbringing, but would never have guessed that she was the daughter of the most powerful man in the Galbadian military.

"Seems the fire's still burning fiercely as ever," the man named Buel spoke. He stepped aside to let them through. "Please, come in. Feel free to set your luggage down. I'll have it brought up to your rooms shortly."

Squall stepped on through, and dropped his bag. The main foyer's splendor perfectly matched the mansion's impressive exterior. Spotless marble tiling spanned the floor. Elegant gilded walls bore all manner of crested tapestry and military paraphernalia; rifles, swords, and countless commendations were displayed for all to see. A pair of love seats sat by a brick fireplace, its mantle decorated by many old photographs. A carpeted staircase stretched up to the second landing, splitting in both directions to the east and west wings.

"I can't be the only one who didn't see that coming!" Zell's voice tarnished the room's air of decorum. He dropped his bag to the floor.

"It certainly explains a few things," Quistis agreed.

"I'm a lil' lost here," Irvine said as he slunk through the door. "But from what I'm gettin', she ain't too thrilled with what daddy does fer a livin'?"

"It is quite regrettable," Buel conceded as he closed the door behind them. "She and her father haven't seen eye to eye for as long as I've been in the family's employ. It's been almost three years since she ran away. She's grown so much… but it seems her hatred for him hasn't changed one bit. May I take your coat and hat?"

"Thanks fer the offer, pops, but I think I'll manage."

"At least we know what she's got against Galbadia now," Selphie hummed.

"After all that talk, she's just a spoiled brat rebelling against authority," Squall crossed his arms. "No wonder she and Seifer get along so well."

'Got' along so well…

"With age comes maturity, or so they say," Buel remarked. He strode across the foyer to a passage on the left hand side. "But, let's not keep the general waiting. Please, follow me."

As Squall and the others trailed behind, he again reflected upon Seifer's demise; it still felt wrong to think of him as a mere memory now. In an instant, the sorceress had stolen away his rival right before his eyes, leaving him with only the scar that ran between them to remember him by. There had been no final confrontation to prove who was the superior fighter. It was the cruelest and most undeserved victory he'd ever been bestowed. As he followed Buel into the study, he only hoped that vengeance would help assuage the feeling of emptiness.

The marble tile gave way to polished hardwood, and a spacious lavender carpet. A chandelier hung above, bathing the room in homey, low-key lighting. To the left side of the door was a narrow, semi-circular alcove. A sculpted bust sat atop a stone pedestal within, perfectly resembling the portrait of a beautiful woman hung further along the wall by the window. The general sat at his desk at the far end of the room. Two bookshelves were set against the wall behind him, each stacked with thick volumes of reference material. His eyes pored over the paperwork strewn about the desktop, swiveling up to meet them as they stepped inside.

Sir," the attendant spoke. "These are the Garden operatives that have been sent to assist with the plan. Interestingly, your daughter was also with them upon their arrival."

His eyes flashed at the mention of Rinoa. The numerous badges and medals pinned to his uniform's breast clinked as he rose from his chair.

"Thank you, Buel," he spoke in a low voice. "Please get the limousine ready at once."

The servant bowed, and backed out of the study. Caraway leisurely rounded the desk, his face remaining stern.

"How exactly do you know my daughter?"

Squall opened his mouth to explain, but stalled. It abruptly occurred to him that he would need to be careful with his words; there was no telling how much the general knew of what Rinoa had been up to since she'd left home.

"She's... hired Balamb Garden's services for an assignment," he summarized. "My comrades and I were dispatched to assist her. I'm afraid I can't disclose anything more."

"And am I correct to assume that assignment was related to the incident in Timber?"

Caraway's eyes trailed to Quistis at his side. Evidently, he'd recognized her from the broadcast.

"Indirectly, yes," Squall admitted. "Unfortunately, with the appearance of the sorceress, things spiraled out of control, and she just happened to get swept up in the thick of it."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," the general sighed as he strode forward.

"We had no idea she was your daughter. She gave us a completely different last name-"

"Heartilly?" he cut him off, turning to face the portrait on the wall. "Her mother's maiden name."

The entire painting had been swathed in a delicate pink hue. The young woman pictured was dressed a long, flowing nightgown, seated on a stone banister before a field of flowers. She held a wine glass clasped within her dainty fingers. Her innocent yet solemn face was indeed beautiful, and at the same time, strangely familiar to Squall.

Well, it is her mother, I guess…

"It's been nearly 12 years since she passed," Caraway continued; a noticeable strain crept into his voice. "It was a freak car accident. I was utterly destroyed. All I could do was try my best to raise her on my own. She's been a problem child ever since. Things didn't get any better once she decided to start railing against the government. I'm not surprised she kept it a secret from you. To her, I'm just a pathetic old man. I can't even remember the last time she called me 'dad'."

"That's… terrible," Selphie spoke in a deflated tone. "That kind of bond… isn't something anyone should take for granted."

"Not a day goes by I don't wish it could have turned out differently," he sighed, turning back to them. "Regardless of whatever contract you may still have with her, I want to be sure she does not become involved in this operation."

"That's fine by us," Squall assured him.

"I wonder if it would have been a better idea to leave her at Galbadia Garden," Quistis spoke up. "At least she'd be safe there."

"No, you did the right thing. My intelligence has informed me that the sorceress intends to take the Garden as her base, by force if necessary."

"There's no way that place's goin' down that easy," Irvine said. "An' besides, once I take that shot, it won't matter none."

"Good to hear you're confident," Caraway smiled faintly. "Let us be on our way, then. Buel should have the car ready. We'll discuss the plan once we're on the road."

The rest of the party followed their host out the door. He guided them down another series of winding halls, Squall continuing to bite his tongue all the while.

No matter their current objective, he, Zell, and Selphie were still contractually bound to Rinoa, which placed them in direct opposition of her father's will. It was an obligation he'd sworn himself to as a SeeD, despite his own personal reservations. There was no guarantee Caraway wouldn't attempt to interfere once their own alliance ran its course. After much deliberation, he decided such matters were best left unspoken for the time being; there was nothing to gain from potentially jeopardizing their standing.

The general led them to the rear of the mansion, and out onto to an open patio. A long stretch of pavement extended from a set of garage doors to the cast-iron gates at the end. A black limousine idled at the bottom of the patio steps; its tinted windows blocked out any view of the interior. Buel held the rear door ajar. The general strode down to meet him, and ducked inside. The rest followed suit, seating themselves all around the padded carriage. The door shut behind them as Squall nestled himself between Quistis and Selphie on the left side. Irvine and Zell sat across from them, Caraway at the front before the raised privacy screen.

"Care for a drink?" he asked, motioning to a nearby mini-fridge.

With all that Squall had been through in the last four days, a generous dose of alcohol was overdue. Regardless, his better instincts urged him to decline. He would need full awareness to process the mission details. Surely the general himself realized this; perhaps he was even testing them.

"Yer too kind, sir!" the cowboy bowed his head. He rose to his feet as the limo began to pull away.

He carefully stepped forward, and swung the fridge door open. Squall gazed through the windows as they passed the oncoming guard house; a single man stood inside to operate the gate ahead. The vehicle swerved out onto the road, turning left at the intersection. He grabbed hold of the cushioned seat in lieu of having no safety belt to keep him in place.

"Man!" Irvine exhaled. He swiveled unsteadily as he sat back down with a beer in one hand. "Losin' my footin' already, an' I ain't even had my first sip yet!"

"General, may I ask where we're headed?" Quistis intervened. "Is there a reason we couldn't discuss the mission details in your study?"

"Wire-tapping, maybe?" Zell guessed. To his side, Irvine fumbled to pop open his drink's bottle cap.

"No, nothing of the sort," Caraway said. "I just think it would be optimal you have a look at the mission area first-hand. We are currently en route to the Presidential Square, at the heart of the city. Tomorrow night, there will be a public ceremony and parade to commemorate Galbadia's alliance with Sorceress Edea. I trust you've seen the banners all around town?"

"Edea?" Squall echoed curiously. "That's the sorceress' na-"

A muffled thud from across the carriage cut him off. Irvine sat there motionlessly, his arm held parallel to the ground in front of him. His fingers were bent inward, forming the shape of the bottle that no longer occupied their grasp. It now lay on the carpeted floor at his feet. The beer spilled out as it swayed with the limousine.

"Oh, shit!" Zell swore. He reached down over Irvine's thigh to snatch up the bottle. "What the hell's wrong with you?! Tell me someone's got tissues!"

"I'm so sorry, general!" Quistis launched into an apology.

Squall quickly unzipped the supply pouch on his belt, pulled out a clump of bandages, and tossed them to Zell. He silently cursed the sharpshooter; his carelessness had undoubtedly just soiled their welcome along with the carpet.

"Irvine, you need to apologize right now!" Selphie demanded.

"Yeah, and while you're at it, have the decency to take care of this!" Zell snapped. He forced the wad of bandages into his still outstretched hand.

Irvine's eyes stayed downcast beneath the brim of his hat. They slowly rose as he craned his neck up to Squall, his face showing the same puzzled look as when they'd met the day before. It shifted to Selphie and Quistis on either side of him, then to Zell, and finally General Caraway.

"Sorry," he apologized as he bent forward to wipe up the spill. "I just… never mind. It won't happen again."

Squall cocked his eyebrow; the usual twang had completely vanished from his voice.

"It's fine," the general sighed, closing his eyes. "Just make sure your grip on the trigger isn't as flimsy."

"Yes, sir."

And this is the guy the mission's success is dependent on.

"As I was saying, this will be the sorceress' first public appearance. This time, it will be broadcast for the entire world to see, with the Timber TV station acting as an intermediary for the Dollet communications tower."

"This time?" Zell echoed. "What do you mean? Wasn't that the point of the radio wave broadcast in the first place?"

"Quite the contrary," Caraway revealed. "That was all but a ruse. The president's address in Timber was only intended for Esthar to see. To draw them out of isolation, and bring them back to the table for negotiations. Few else outside of the military's top brass have even seen the footage."

"So, that's why it wasn't being shown on the news?" Quistis asked as she pensively brought her hand up to her chin.

"Naturally. HD cabling has been the standard for years in the western world. You'd have to be standing by at the right time, with the right equipment to receive the signal in the first place."

"You see?!" Selphie exclaimed. "I knew I wasn't overthinking things!"

"And are you implying Esthar was standing by?" Squall prodded Caraway. "How could you be so sure the broadcast would make it to them? And why bother pretending that it was also being made to the rest of the world at all?"

The general met his stare, but refused to answer. His stern, pursed lips remained sealed for several uncomfortable moments, seemingly fighting to filter his words before they parted again.

"Just as your Garden has its own backroom ties to Esthar, so do we," he finally spoke. "That is all I will say on the matter."

So the awkward silence returned. Breaking from the stare down, Squall's eyes fell to his entwined belts, and the silver sphere clipped to them.

"Now, let us return to the point," Caraway continued. "My colleagues and I have already done everything we could to stop any of this from going forward. I'd even dispatched the most ill-suited commanding officer I could find to Dollet, hoping he would botch the entire operation. And he very nearly did."

Squall met Zell's knowing gaze from across the carriage.

'We' very nearly did. Seifer… you've been proven right again. If only you could hear this…

"And, here we are."

Squall arched his neck back to peer out the window behind him as the limousine slowed to a halt. They were parked on the edge of a wide square, easily twice the size of the one outside the station. Two-lane traffic bisected the center. Beyond stood a hulking iron gateway adorned with the Galbadian crest, and beyond that, a regal estate roughly 30 feet tall. A speaking podium had been erected on the roof, backlit by a towering digital time frame; its display read Thursday, February 25th, 12:55:43. Through the bars further along, he noticed a giant parade float sitting idle beside the estate. Armed guards stood stationed all around the perimeter.

"So, she's in there right now?" Selphie asked. The girl looked out beside him with her knees propped up on the seat.

"As far as I've been informed," Caraway said. "Once the ceremony is over, the parade will begin. That is when the operation will commence. You will be split into two teams: the sniper team, and the gateway team. The sniper team will be positioned amid the crowd in front of the Presidential Residence. The gateway team… well, the name says it all."

He motioned to the windows behind Zell and Irvine. Through the glass, past the swathes of pedestrians, the grand golden archway from before loomed further down the road. The ornate statues decorating its body were striking to behold at such a close distance, some humanoid, others vicious beasts.

"The gateway team will enter, and standby at the mechanism controlling the gates."

"We're gonna trap her inside?!" Zell's jaw dropped. "With the power she's got, there's no way that's gonna hold her back!"

"It is merely a diversion to draw attention away from the sniper. Once the president and sorceress have finished their speeches, the sniper team will maneuver along the crowd to an extraction point further down the west-side street. Two of my men will be manning a patrol car. They will pick the team up, and bring them into the Presidential Residence as soon as the gates open. From there, it will be up to you to make your way inside to the upper level. There is a hatch in the corridor leading from the sorceress' room out to the speaking podium. It leads into the silo where the retractable clock carousel is stored. You'll find the sniper rifle waiting for you there."

"An' then we play the waitin' game?" Irvine presumed.

"Precisely. The procession will follow a specific route set to a specific time frame. Once it leaves the residence, it will proceed south down the main avenue until it reaches the station square. It will turn right, and perform a full circle around the city. Once it comes back to the station, it will return to the residence. If everything runs according to schedule, the parade float should pass under the arch the moment after the clock strikes 2000 hours. Then, and only then, do we drop the gates. The Presidential Residence's clock carousel is set to rise out of the roof at the stroke of the hour, as a flashy show of fan-fare to welcome the sorceress back. And, of course, it will be carrying the sniper team up with it."

"How can you be sure the float won't pass through before the carousel goes up?" Squall asked skeptically. The timing required would have to be nearly as precise as the Forest Owls' train re-connection plot.

Don't tell me this is where she gets it from.

"Because that's how it's been planned," Caraway spoke firmly. "The sniper team will be a party of two, comprised of the sniper and the operation leader. If the plan fails for whatever reason, or should the sniper miss, the gateway team will carry out a direct assault on the sorceress. Should that fail as well, the duty will fall to the leader alone, by whatever means necessary. Please decide amongst yourselves who will take up that position."

"Geez," Selphie moaned. "Talk about a huge responsibility."

"I think the choice is pretty clear," Zell said. He shifted his eyes to Quistis. "Instructor, you're the highest ranking here, and the most combat experienced."

"I understand," she solemnly nodded her head.

"I'll be the leader," Squall declared.

His trust in Headmaster Martine's endorsement had been thoroughly shattered; he had no confidence whatsoever in the womanizing sharpshooter's abilities, and refused to leave him alone with her. He was determined to personally make sure the operation went off without a hitch.

"Are you sure that's such a wise idea?" Quistis shot him a look.

"No, and I don't care," he told her. He stood up and stumbled his way to the door. "I need some fresh air. I'll see you later."

He opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Several onlookers looked him over suspiciously as he did so; his black casual wear stood in stark contrast to the regal limousine. A hand caught his shoulder from behind before he could move.

"Wait," Quistis said to him. "If you need some time to yourself, go right ahead. But I want you to be honest with me. Are you sure you're okay to go through with this? We can't have you passing out in the middle of the operation."

"I'll be fine," he grunted. "It's not going to happen again."

It ought not to if Laguna's apparent death could be believed. It did not discount the possibility of him suddenly being thrust into another person's body, however. The truth behind these strange visions still eluded him. He now only hoped he might live to uncover it once the job was done.

"Still, I want you to promise me you'll let Dr. Kadowaki take a look at you once we're back home."

"If that'll make you happy, then fine, I promise. Now, let me be."

Quistis' hand loosed itself from his shoulder. He trudged forward, mingling with the pedestrians as he made his way towards the golden gate. The stage was set, the players assigned their roles. All they could do now was perform their parts as instructed. It was not a SeeD's place to question why, but deep in his heart, Squall had found a reason all his own.

Seifer… this one is for you.

Chapter Text

"Quite the temperament on that one," Caraway remarked.

Quistis ducked her head back into the limousine, and closed the door behind her. She seated herself as the general rapped on the privacy screen. The car promptly shifted back into drive, and started turning.

"Glad I ain't the only who thinks so," Irvine muttered. His head was bowed, his hands clasped before him.

"Just you and everyone else back at Balamb," Zell said. "He's not exactly the most popular guy around campus. No real friends at all, far as I know."

"So, Squall's always been like this?" Selphie asked. "That's just… really sad. He must be so lonely."

"I don't think it even bothers him anymore," Quistis responded, her words coming out colder than she'd intended. "I've tried for years to help him. It's been so long I can't even remember when it all started. Every time, he just turns me away and says he prefers to be alone. And now, I'm starting to think that's just who he is."

It pained her to admit. She'd practically begged Squall to open up to her over the years, to help her understand why he insisted on keeping himself isolated. Perhaps however, it was something she never could hope to. Perhaps it was something so ingrained into his personality that it could never be undone. And so long as he refused to recognize it was a problem, her efforts were all for nothing.

"Still, considering all that's happened, I can't blame him for wanting some alone time right now. It's obvious Seifer's death really shook him."

"Hold up," Irvine cut in. His head shot upward. "What's goin' on now?"

"Our…" Zell started; he paused as he searched for the right words. "Well, I can't say he was a 'friend', but… you know one of our guys attacked the president in Timber a couple days ago, right? We were there, and the sorceress appeared and took him. We heard from your Garden's headmaster that he was executed later that same day. It's been… well, really rough on all of us."

"Even you?" Selphie asked. "Even though you hated him so much?"

"It's true, I didn't like the guy at all. And it was a seriously stupid thing he did. But still… he was one of us. I've been thinking about it these last couple of days, and I… I don't want to believe he died for nothing."

He turned to Irvine with a determined stare.

"It's all on you now, man. Whatever you do, don't miss."

The carriage interior fell silent again. Only the humming of the engine remained as Quistis darted her eyes about. Zell had hit the nail on the head; although she had no fond memories of Seifer, he hadn't deserved his untimely end.

"Ya say it like that's all there is to it," Irvine finally spoke. "Would you be able to take that kinda shot so easy? 'Specially if it's at someone like… her?"

"You're not getting cold feet, are you?" Zell joshed him. "You heard what your headmaster said. Pull the trigger, save the world. Sounds pretty cut-and-dry to me. Hell, you'll probably go down in history when it's all over."

"Indeed," General Caraway finally interrupted as the vehicle came to a stop before his front gate. "At any rate, I trust you will deal with any more… dysfunctional elements among your team by tomorrow night."

"Yes, sir!" Quistis saluted.

She opened the car door gingerly, and ducked her head to clear the frame. As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, she noticed a streak of blue standing at the mansion's gateway with her dog beside.

Speaking of dysfunctional…

"Looks like you're getting the VIP treatment," Rinoa scoffed. "So, what's the deal? Do we have a plan?"

"We do," Quistis said as Zell and Selphie emerged behind her. "Your father doesn't want you getting involved, and frankly I agree with him. Please understand."

"I'm already in deep enough as it is!" she fired back. "If there's anything I can do to help, then let me! You're not the only ones with an axe to grind against that woman."

"It's-"

"It's none of your concern," Caraway's rugged voice cut through from behind.

Quistis turned back to see him duck out of the limousine after Irvine. He stared down his daughter from across the divide, his stern eyes tinged with unmistakable compassion; try as he might to hide it, he was obviously relieved to see her again after so long.

"This is a serious mission with serious repercussions. You are not a trained soldier, nor a SeeD. For your own safety, I am telling you to stay out of this. You have no business whatsoever in this matter. Do I make myself clear?"

The long pause that followed was broken only by Angelo's panting. The girl shifted her eyes away from her father's.

"As you command, general," she muttered irately.

She turned to make her way down the street. The dog remained sat by the gate, craning its neck back to her.

"You look… so much like your mother now," Caraway said, a gentler tone creeping into his voice. "If only she were here."

"She'd be so proud, wouldn't she?" Rinoa called back over her shoulder. "And have you ever wondered what she'd think about you, and the things you stand for?"

"She would understand some things are necessary for the good of the nation. She loved me despite it all. And she would love you, as I still do, regardless of the path you've chosen."

"She never really loved you," the girl venomously spat. "That's just what you tell yourself to save face."

Quistis watched the family quarrel rage on in utter shock. A quick glimpse to either side revealed she was not alone; her three comrades all looked every bit as uncomfortable. Rinoa's biting words towards her father were reprehensible; such self-righteous anger and disregard for authority reminded her of Seifer. At once, she could feel a genuine sense of empathy for the general. Perhaps it actually was the reason why they'd gotten along so well, as Squall had off-handedly remarked. Regardless, what good will she'd previously held towards the girl was waning fast.

The general stood in place, his face now a mask of frustration and impatience. Rinoa appeared willfully ignorant of it. She raised her eyes to the midday sky above, and softly began to sing.

"Whenever I played my songs

On the stage, on my own

Whenever I spoke my words

Wishing they would be heard

I saw you smiling at me

Was it real, or just my fantasy?

You'd always be there in the corner

Of that tiny little bar"

She slowly turned back to face him, a knowing smirk splayed across her lips.

"Doesn't sound like you, does it?" she taunted him with a cheeky wink.

Caraway's face contorted in rage. He snapped his attention to Buel at the limousine's hood, and angrily motioned for him to unlock the gate. The aide hurriedly complied. Evidently satisfied, Rinoa carried on down the street. Quistis stayed frozen to the spot. She darted her eyes back and forth between the estranged father and daughter, confused as to what had just transpired.

"The four of you are dismissed," he spoke to them at last, clearly in no mood. "If you wish to rest, please speak with Buel, and he will show you to your rooms. Otherwise, I will see you at dinner tonight. Let your 'leader' know when you see him again. That is all."

Their host stormed through the gate and across the stone bridge, his aide and the dog following on his heels. The three SeeDs and the sharpshooter remained standing by the limousine. They awkwardly glanced between one another for several moments before Zell finally broke the silence.

"Well, that was… heated."

"And totally uncalled for on her part!" Selphie agreed. "How's she expect to change his mind if she won't even listen to him?"

"It ain't 'bout changin' his mind," Irvine said. "She's jus' lookin' to take everythin' out on him, however she can. Ain't no rhyme or reason to it, jus' lashin' out 'cause it's all she knows how to do."

"You might be right," Quistis hummed. "It didn't impress me much, that's for sure."

"Best not to get caught in the middle," Zell said. "Anyway, I'm gonna take a look around town. Gotta see the sights while we can, right? Anyone wanna tag along?"

"You bet!" Selphie pumped her fist. "Let's tear it up!"

"I… suppose I wouldn't be against having a stroll," Quistis affirmed. "At least for a little while."

She turned to the remaining holdout among them. Even before she asked, she could tell his heart was no longer invested.

"What about you? You said you'd be willing to show us around before, right?"

"Yeah," Irvine sighed. "Sorry, but I'm gonna hafta walk that back. Jus' not feelin' it right now. I'm thinkin' chuckles mighta been on to somethin' 'bout needin' some alone time… to mentally prepare an' all."

"Fair enough," Zell said. "Guess we'll see you for dinner, then. Just… don't psyche yourself out too much, alright? We're counting on you."

"No pressure, huh?" he muttered. He stepped on through the mansion's gateway, the tails of his jacket swaying behind him in the light breeze.

Quistis watched as he crossed the bridge, unsettled by how his boisterous facade had fallen away so quickly. The responsibility was indeed grave, as would be the aftermath no matter how things turned out. Even should everything go as planned, the president would surely seek retaliation. There had to be some kind of contingency in place to secure their exit, which Caraway had yet to inform them of. Surely the Gardens did not expect them to become martyrs for the cause.

"Instructor!" Zell called from down the walkway. "Are you coming?"

Just stick to the directive. Orders are orders. It's just like Xu said: That's the reality of working for a mercenary army.

Squall's eyes washed over the throng of passing pedestrians all around him. The lengthy stream of people stretched in either direction, from the station square far down the main drag, to the golden gateway immediately to his left. He finally rose from the bench, and rejoined with the flow of traffic. None paid him any mind as they traversed the sidewalk, oblivious to the storm of disparate thoughts whipping through his head. He swiveled to merge with those heading north towards the Presidential Residence.

He'd paced the city's main avenue from mouth to source, and back again. His restless mind gave him no peace as he wandered on. His rival's death ate away at him. The sorceress' power unnerved him. His former instructor's nagging irritated him. The conflict between his two concurrent clients infuriated him. And their sniper's devil-may-care attitude gave him little confidence in the plan they were to execute. What had begun as a standard first assignment for his team of fresh rookies had spiraled completely out of control in less than a week, each new development leading them from bad to worse. He had no reason to believe this operation would end differently.

He stared up at the grand archway as he passed by. Its large retracted gates hung above on either side, poised and ready to fall. The iron bars couldn't possibly stand up to the sorceress' full might should she choose to unleash it. Irvine's window of opportunity would be a narrow one, both figuratively and literally judging by the gap between each. Entrusting the assassination to him was ludicrous, as was their fallback measure of charging the sorceress directly. Even with their Guardian Forces to rely upon, he knew it would be a suicide assault. And so, he'd reluctantly volunteered to take on the burden of leadership. Beyond merely saving the world, he now had his own personal stake in the mission's success; he couldn't let Seifer's sacrifice be in vain.

He re-emerged into the bustling Presidential Square, and circled around the left-hand side. He crossed the intersection, fighting to dodge oncoming city goers and patrols alike. As he reached the other side, he craned his neck to peer through the Presidential Residence's cast-iron gateway. A swarm of technicians scurried all around and about the parade float he'd noticed before. Its wide, raised platform held up a tall golden throne. Behind was a voluminous back piece resembling white and black angel wings. An illuminated halo fixture jutting out above the seat almost reminded him of the Garden's own, its LED light display flickering a gentle blue. No expense had been spared for Deling's ambassador; the fantastical yet regal design was one fit for a queen.

"Squall?"

The voice came from his side. He swiveled back around to find an all-too-familiar face had materialized amid the passing crowd.

"Funny bumping into you here, huh?" Rinoa smiled. "So, what're you up to? Any reason you're not with the others?"

"I… needed some time to myself," he muttered, hoping she would take the hint.

"Yeah, me too. You can only be around him for so long, am I right? Though… I guess everything else that's been going on can't be helping."

"Glad you understand," he dismissed her. He quickly began to backpedal before she could take the conversation anywhere else. "See you-"

He abruptly collided with someone to his rear.

"Hey!"

He spun around to a stumbling, helmeted Galbadian soldier.

"Watch where you're going, damn punk ki-"

He cut himself off mid-sentence, his mouth still hanging open. Though his eyes were obscured by his visor, Squall knew the reaction couldn't possibly bode well for him.

"S-sir!" the soldier snapped into a salute. "I'm terribly sorry! Please forgive my rudeness. Rest assured, it won't happen again. The perimeter is secure. If there is any other way I can be of service to you, please let me know!"

Squall's dread gave way to befuddlement. The notion that he could be mistaken for an out-of-uniform officer at his age was ridiculous, and yet, the soldier seemed to think he held some position of authority over him. It was possible he was one of Caraway's loyalists; the general had mentioned a pair of men who would escort him and Irvine into the Presidential Residence.

"As you were," he ordered with the firmest tone he could muster.

"Yes, sir!"

The soldier released his salute, and quickly continued on his way across the square. Squall pivoted back to Rinoa. The look of confusion she wore echoed his own sentiments precisely.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine," he said, turning to take his leave. "I'll see you around."

"Hold on, Squall!"

Her hand frantically caught his from behind.

"Listen… I know this has been a rough week for you. For all of us. And I feel really bad that I might have been making things harder on you and the others. I've been thinking about it these last couple of days, and… maybe you were right. Maybe I was being unreasonable back in Timber. I guess I got so caught up in my excitement at hiring SeeD that I just assumed you'd be able to make it all happen for us. I was treating you like tools instead of people. It wasn't fair to you, and… I'm sorry."

The apology was beyond anything Squall would have expected from her. While it was a SeeD's duty was to execute orders as directed by their employer, the conditions under which this particular contract had been drafted were dubious at best. He couldn't imagine she and Seifer had relayed the specifics of the train hijacking to the headmaster; the deposit required would have easily matched the amount the Dollet parliament had paid. Caught between maintaining his professional image and ensuring the safety of his squad, he'd put his foot down. That her attitude reminded him so much of Seifer had only added fuel to the fire.

"It's fine," he accepted the apology. Still, Rinoa kept her clasp on his hand.

"I've been wanting to make it up to you, somehow," she said. "It might not be much, but… since we're both here, and you're just going to go wandering off anyway… what do you say you let me show you all the hot spots around town? You know, to help take your mind off everything?"

"I told you, I want to be alone," he irritably replied.

"Squall, staying cooped up in your head all the time isn't good for you. You need to cut loose a bit. You know, let yourself have fun once in a while."

Did the entire 'mission to save the world' spiel fly clear over her head?

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly a 'fun' guy."

"That's not what I remember from the dance," she slyly winked. "What happened to that guy? He seemed like loads of fun… once he decided to let himself be. I told you then, and I'm telling you now: just relax. Don't be so deep in thought all the time."

He recalled how she'd forcibly dragged him onto the dance floor that night; how he'd ultimately given in; how he'd let himself be swept away by her charm; how he'd felt more at peace than he had in years; and how crushed he'd been when it was over, only to later learn he'd been used as a placeholder for his rival. The same rival who now lay in an untimely grave, over whom she'd no doubt shed many a tear the last two nights.

So help me, if she's just using me to take his place again…

She finally let go of his hand, and bowed to him in faux reverence.

"What I'm trying to say is… it would be my honor to have your company, your highness, in hope that I may get your mind off of things."

She is still my client at the end of the day…

"If her majesty commands it," he reluctantly grumbled.

"She requests it," the Forest Owls' princess huffed. She grabbed his hand again, and tugged him back across the square. "Come on, let's get a move on! We've got so much to see!"

Rinoa led the lethargic Squall along the east end of Deling City for nearly an hour. Together, they navigated the cramped sidewalks packed with locals and tourists alike. Horns blared as traffic jerked in both directions, abruptly cut off by crossing pedestrians every so often. His eyes were kept awash in the glitz and glamour of his surroundings the entire way. The lengthy shopping arcade was packed with more establishments than he'd ever seen; department stores, restaurants, souvenir shops, and even a few casinos ran up and down the stretch. A multitude of mouthwatering scents wafted on the air, a veritable scavenger hunt to determine the source of each tempting aroma. It was a marvel of urban development, leaving Squall impressed both by its sheer scale, and the ease with which Rinoa navigated it.

"Anything catch your eye?" she smiled back.

"What makes you think I take an interest in shopping?" he replied. The amount of selection was too overwhelming to even know where to start.

"Well, what about something to eat?" she suggested, pointing across the way. "That place over there's always been one of my favorite spots for a bite. You like spicy stuff?"

Squall followed her finger across the road to a small dive nestled between two larger buildings. He craned his neck to peer over the passing crowd. An erected menu display sat beside the door, bearing large color pictures of the various sets on offer.

"It's just a little mom-and-pop shop," Rinoa smiled fondly. "But man, do they make a mean curry. Pretty cheap too, all things considered. Glad they're still kicking."

Fascinating commentary, as expected.

"And, on the other end of the price range…"

She gestured to a far fancier restaurant further down the street. A dense congregation had assembled around the entrance, many slouched against the establishment's exterior walls. Squall raised his eyes to the title in flashing neon overhead: 'Desert Delicacies'.

"When it comes to food, that place's one of the biggest tourist draws around. Their specialty is dishes made from the flesh of the Wind Cacti in the desert regions down south. It's one of the most exotic and highly sought after foods in the world, mainly because of how hard it is to harvest. Not sure what their secret is, but they've made a killing off it. People come from all over to try it, even when they charge an arm and a leg for just a small meal."

"Balamb's the same way with their premium cuts of fish," Squall cut in. "You can afford to mark up your prices that steep when there's no real competition."

"And I take it that holds true for SeeD, too?"

"You catch on quick. First rate talent doesn't come cheap. Or rather, it shouldn't."

He shot her a resentful stare. On a personal level, Squall couldn't have cared less how much money the Garden administration took in per contract. That she'd exploited the headmaster's kindness, and perhaps even senility, to abuse the system was another matter. Rinoa seemed to understand the implication; a guilt-ridden look flashed across her face as she averted her eyes.

"Yeah… you're right," she conceded. "Look, can we not get hung up on this now? I want this to be an enjoyable time for both of us, okay? So, do you want to get something to eat? You've got to be starving."

He nodded with a grunt. He'd eaten nothing since the previous night at Galbadia Garden, and the eve of the Owls' kidnapping plot before that. With so much happening in such rapid succession, he'd had neither the opportunity nor appetite. The two made for the nearest crosswalk, waited for the signal to flash green, and crossed to the other side. Rinoa stepped through first. A wave of delectable spices enveloped Squall's nose as he followed her in.

The small restaurant was in fact a re-purposed private domicile. A wooden counter lined by bar-stools ran under the windows facing the street, along the right-hand wall, and to the foot of a staircase leading up to the second level. The narrow kitchen took up what was left of the former living space. A middle-aged couple toiled over their sizzling culinary craft within. The woman raised her head to greet them as the door chimed, lighting up as she recognized Rinoa.

"Oh, my!" she beamed, quickly turning to her partner. "Rick! Look who's back!"

The man bolted up from the stove, and cracked a grin every bit as wide.

"Well, I'll be!" he exclaimed. "If it ain't the little hellion, all grown up!"

"Heya, Rick, Donna," she blushed, folding her arms behind her. "It's been a few years, hasn't it? You both holding up okay?"

"Best we can, dear," the lady smiled. "It's been steady enough. All this commotion lately seems like it's keeping some of our regulars home right now, though. And who might this be? Your boyfriend?"

Not… quite," Rinoa stuttered. "This is Squall. He's kinda like… a business partner, I guess you could say. It's his first time to the city. I'm just showing him the sights, and figured we could both use a bite."

"I dunno," Rick smirked from the stove-side. "Sounds an awful lot like a date to me."

You couldn't pay me a big enough bonus to go along with that.

"Anyway, if you're Rinoa's friend, that's good enough for us. So, what'll it be? The old usual?"

"Two of 'em!"

She pivoted around to seat herself by the window. Squall pulled the stool next to hers out from under the counter, and maneuvered himself atop. The bustling streets continued to rush on by beyond the glass, the shadows on the pavement growing longer in the early afternoon sun.

"Trust me, you'll love it," she winked to him. She grabbed hold of a water pitcher set between them on the counter. "You're probably going to need a lot of this on standby, though. This stuff's liable to burn your tongue off if you're not used to it."

"I think I'll manage," he muttered. He took a translucent cup from the nearby stack. "Seems like you have quite the name, not just in Timber."

"Well, a girl's gotta get out of the house when she can, right?" she explained as she tilted the pitcher down to pour his glass full. "They're such a sweet couple. They don't know anything about the Owls, though. This is the first time I've been back since I met up with Zone and the guys. But, what about you? Don't you have anyone back home you meet up with when you're looking to get out and do something?"

"You don't want to get me started on that," he snatched his glass away. She was starting to sound like Quistis.

"Ah," she backed off. "Well then, anywhere you want to see? There's tons of stuff to check out around town. You've already seen the Iguion Gate. If we keep heading down this way for a while, we'll eventually hit the war memorial. And if you're really up for a hike, there's always the Tomb of the Unknown King. It's where the last ruler of the Dollet Empire is buried. It's a little ways outside the city, but there's a shuttle that runs back and forth."

Squall had little inclination for sightseeing, much less an expedition outside the city. That Rinoa couldn't intuit as much, or otherwise refused to take 'no' for an answer was beginning to annoy him.

"I'd prefer to stay local," he hinted.

"Somehow I knew you were gonna say that," she sighed. "Alright, I guess we'll just keep going until we hit the memorial. That sound okay with you?"

"If that's what you want to do."

"No, Squall. If that's what you want to do. This isn't about me."

Then why does it feel like I'm being dragged along for the ride?

Before long, Donna had arrived at their sides with a pair of steaming dishes. The searing spices pierced his nostrils, further provoking his rumbling stomach. True to Rinoa's warning, the curry-based dish had a remarkable kick to it; he found himself going through two more refills of water as he ate. Despite a greater tolerance to heat courtesy of his fire elemental GF, the resistance unsurprisingly hadn't extended to his tongue. As he proceeded to polish off the admittedly tasty meal, he caught a playful smirk from the seat beside him.

"Holding up okay?" she chuckled. "Don't go keeling over on me. You're not getting off that easy."

They finished their meals and split the bill evenly, a very reasonable 700 gil apiece. Rinoa thanked the couple with a hug each. Donna gave Squall a not so subtle wink over her shoulder as they embraced.

"Nice to meet you. Take good care of this one, you hear? She can be a real handful."

"You don't have to tell me," he replied. He caught a pouting glance from Rinoa as she released the hug, and followed him out the door.

The two continued eastward, the sun dipping further as they pressed on for roughly an hour more. Before long, a strange sense of deja-vu came over Squall; the further they traipsed into the city's downtown district, the stronger the unnerving feeling grew. While the various storefronts themselves were unfamiliar, the architectural design and general layout of the high-rise buildings matched his recollection perfectly. It was all as he'd seen before from a bird's eye view, just as the golden gateway. The feeling finally reached its zenith as they passed by a nearby establishment.

It stretched up into the skyline for at least eight stories. Regal red carpet extended from the rotating glass doors, leading to a polished, upscale hotel lobby. Even without the lettering above to distinguish it, there was no doubt in Squall's mind; he'd once strode through that very same lobby, taken the elevator up to the seventh floor, and spent a romantic evening with a beautiful pianist who'd aspired for so much more. It had been no innocent dream. How could it have been, when the same hotel now stood before him, as if plucked directly from his mind's eye?

His heart caught in his throat. His legs became immobile as fantasy and reality collided. He'd come full circle to the place of Laguna's fated meeting with Julia. He'd seen it all from behind those eyes she'd adored, rendered incapable of his own autonomy within the soldier's body. He felt no different now. He continued staring through the glass paneling, frozen to the spot, and wondered if he ought to head inside. What would he find should he descend those carpeted stairs to the basement lounge? Would Julia still be there, performing for the bar regulars, hopelessly awaiting Laguna's return?

"Squall?"

He broke from his trance as Rinoa called to him. She stood on the sidewalk a ways ahead.

"Everything okay?"

"Y-yeah," he stuttered, and finally turned away from the Royal Galbadia Hotel.

This has been the strangest week of my life, hands down.

He followed her further down the street. As they pressed on, the buildings to either side gradually gave way to verdant nature. Lush trees rose up to rival the ever present lampposts. Finally, a wide circular park came into view ahead. Greenery and a ring of wooden benches pointed inward to a large stone monument surrounded by fountains. The effigy portrayed two soldiers standing back to back, the Galbadian crest engraved at their feet with several lines of text. Some tourists darted around with cameras in hand. Others leisurely milled about the park, content to find a moment's reprieve from the city's hustle.

"Let's give our legs a rest," Rinoa gestured to a nearby bench. She seated herself on the left side.

Squall begrudgingly lugged himself over to sit beside her. In the distance, several young children were playing soccer, happily passing the ball back and forth to one another without a care in the world. He envied their naivete; were it only he too could return to a simpler time, free from all responsibility. And yet, as he watched them, a fierce resentment began welling up inside. It sickened him how they smiled and laughed with one another, while he was left to mire in despair on the sidelines.

He couldn't understand why. He'd always lived alone. The solitude had always given him comfort. In that moment however, he could only feel anger. The sloshing of the fountains were as waves crashing on the seashore far below, where the others frolicked without care. As he peered down on them, he could feel his sorrow contort into vengeful spite. What sense of belonging could he find with them? How could he be expected to just smile and pretend everything would be fine?

The world is cruel, and everyone faces it-

"So, listen… there's something important I want to talk to you about."

He turned to Rinoa as her words snapped him back to reality. Gentle as her tone was, her face looked more serious than he'd seen her all day.

"What?" he asked. "Is it about our contract?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's just… like I said, I'm sorry about everything back in Timber. I realize I got too carried away with what I was asking you to do."

"Haven't we been over this?"

"Let me finish!"

She suddenly grabbed hold of his hand. Her deep brown eyes stared into his, clearly wrought with grief.

"Just listen to me for a minute, Squall. I'm… genuinely worried about you. I've been talking with Quistis these last couple of days, and… she's told me how you get when you're under pressure. About how you go off into your own little world and try to cut yourself off from everyone. Like I said, it's not good to keep yourself so deep in your own thoughts all the time."

"Did she put you up to this?" he growled irately; the entire routine did seem like something right out of Quistis' playbook.

"No, not at all!" she shrunk back as she let go of his hand. "I just… I just felt guilty about all that's happened, and wanted to make it up to you as best I could. That's all. I know you've got this huge assignment coming up. I know it has to be scary, and that the worst thing you can do is keep yourself cooped up in your own head. So, I want to let you know that if you ever need someone to talk to, even if it's just to vent, you can always come to me. So, please… let me help you. If you're scared, then tell me."

"Then tell me! I've said it before, that I'm always here if you need someone to talk to! Aren't there times when you want to share your feelings with someone? Just to make everything feel a little better?"

"Never," he coldly spoke as he rose from the bench. "And from now on, unless it's about our contract, I'd prefer you don't bother coming to me for anything, either."

"What is your problem?!" she exploded as she shot to her feet. "Why do you have to be like that?! Are you mad, or something? Please tell me you are, because this really can't be you!"

Her sudden outburst startled him. His eyes went wide as hers furiously glared back. Her arms trembled at her sides. Her bottom lip quivered. She was teetering on the edge of breaking down, just as she nearly had in front of the TV station. Her lack of emotional stability was of no concern to Squall. Regardless, nothing good could come from causing a scene in public.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, averting his eyes.

"No, you're not! You just wanna get the hell out of here, that's all! Why do you have to be like this?! Why?!"

He dared not raise his head as she stormed away in disgust. Her words were harsh, scathing, and accurate above all else. He wasn't sorry, nor did he have any reason to be. Whether or not she'd been acting at Quistis' behest, her actions had been manipulative all the same. He needed no pity from her, nor someone to confide in. He was self-sufficient. He would conquer any adversity ahead of him on his own terms, as he always had.

He finally raised his eyes from the grass below. Several onlookers had gathered around in the wake of Rinoa's fury. They were quick to return to their own devices with a single look from him. As he gazed between them, he noticed a flash of blonde quickly duck behind the trunk of a nearby tree. Whether it were a trick of the light, or a particular uninvited eavesdropper, he no longer cared. He sat back down on the bench once more, clasped his hands in contemplation, and closed his eyes. The playing children in the distance reached his ears again as he drifted off into his own thoughts.

None of this will change anything. I was just being honest. I prefer to be alone… right?

Chapter Text

The last few glimmers of twilight shone through the bedroom's bay window, falling across the dark pink carpet. Ornate drapery and gilded picture frames lined the matching walls, obscured by the shadows. The ceiling and bedside lamps were switched off. So they'd been for the entire day, leaving Rinoa to mire beneath the sheets.

All was as she'd left it behind three years ago. From the spacious walk-in closet, to the imposing dresser beside it, to the vanity table further along the wall, every amenity had been left untouched in the hope she would return one day. No matter how she resented her father, the decision to run away hadn't been an easy one. Even after she'd joined up with the Forest Owls, the regular nostalgic pangs had proved difficult to resist. She'd gone so far as to renovate her quarters at the hideout in the image of her room, down to the same shade of paint on the walls. It gave her comfort through such a tumultuous period in her life. There was none now that she lay in the midst of the genuine article.

The previous day's fallout with Squall still weighed on her mind; she'd approached him with the best of intentions, only to have her consideration so rudely tossed back in her face. His aloof behavior defied her understanding. It sickened her to believe such was indicative of his true personality. Surely the quiet, reserved, yet cool-headed SeeD she'd met on the dance floor hadn't been a facade. How he'd gently smiled when they'd finished their waltz, having allowed himself to enjoy the moment.

She'd roamed the streets in a huff for hours, passing the rest of the afternoon at her old local hangouts. She did not return home for dinner; she'd had no interest in sharing the table with her father, nor the others for that matter. A diner along the main drag had served her needs. By the stroke of midnight, when she could be sure all would be asleep, she'd infiltrated the mansion via the usual route. From there, she'd quietly scaled the foyer steps to her room, where she'd laid in exhaustion and melancholy for most of the day.

She'd skipped breakfast. Only once she'd caught sight from her window of her father departing the house did she feel comfortable leaving her room. Buel had followed behind, carrying Squall's revolver-styled sword in one hand, and a holstered shotgun and ammunition belt slung over his shoulder. With the coast clear, she'd descended to the kitchen to fix herself something to eat. A visibly excited Angelo had tailed her in. She'd offered the dog a few slices of the deli meat she'd used for her sandwich, and retraced her steps back up with the plate in hand. Still, the dog followed after.

Just as she'd reached her room, the door to one of the guest rooms further down the hall had swung open. Irvine had stepped out, clad in his usual jacket and chaps, his black cowboy hat held by his side.

"Hey," he'd nodded to her, taking note of the sandwich. "I was thinkin' it was 'bout that time, myself. Didn't see ya at dinner last night. Lemme guess, havin' to eat with yer pops don't leave ya with much o' an appetite?"

"Yeah," she'd muttered. "Well, honestly, I think that goes for everyone right now. I don't want to make things… even more awkward."

Her blowout with Squall notwithstanding, her father's insistence on not letting her get involved would have left her the odd one out at the table no matter what.

"I gotcha there. Sittin' 'round a table with those four's plenty awkward fer me, too. Jus' between you an' me, I get the feelin' there's somethin' not right with 'em. Like, I don't know what kinda trainin' SeeDs hafta go through, but the way they're takin' this mission… well, let's jus' say it ain't the kinda attitude I'd expect. Ya think there might be somethin' they put in the water over at Balamb?"

"Maybe," she'd chuckled. "It'd make more sense why Squall takes himself so seriously all the time."

"To tell ya the truth, he's the only one I'm not feelin' too freaked out by right now. Can't believe I'm sayin' this, but I'm kinda glad he's the one I'm paired up with tonight."

"Oh… so, tonight's the night? Already?"

"Yep," he'd affirmed, his intonation abruptly turning hollow. "This is it. The day I go down in history as the guy that knocked off Sorceress Edea… if someone'd told me this was what my whole life's been leadin' up to, I'd never have believed it."

"You're prepared for it though, right? You don't think you're going to miss, do you?"

"It ain't 'bout hittin' or missin'. I know I've got the skill to pull it off. It's jus'…"

He'd trailed off. His face took on a stern look Rinoa had yet to see from the sharpshooter; normally so full of swagger, his eyes instead showed a tinge of unease.

"Look, there's a lotta things I don't understand. I'm the one who's come into all this at the halfway point, an' so far, the picture's not too clear fer me. Like, what's her goal here? Why's she allied herself with the government? An' why've the top brass at Balamb taken out this contract on her? These are things I've gotta know before I can pull that trigger, an' it feels like the only person I can get the answers from is the one I've gotta shoot. If only there was some other way…"

Rinoa could sympathize to a degree. Though she may not have been a Garden operative, she recognized just how much pressure he was under. She too would need absolute clarity of mind to follow through with such a thing. Even so, she desperately needed him to make the shot. The mission's success meant more to her than simply foiling Deling's bid for world domination.

"I know it's a huge responsibility," she'd told him. "But we're all counting on you. This sorceress... I've seen what she can do. It practically made my hair stand up on end. She's pure evil, without a single doubt. I… I lost someone important to me because of her…"

She shifted her eyes from Irvine to the plate she held. Angelo rubbed at her side, begging for another nibble.

"Listen… Squall had plenty of issues with the orders I gave him, but he was still prepared to go through with them. Because it was his duty as a SeeD. I chewed him out for treating it like just another assignment. I told him how easy he must have it to just live his life blindly following orders. The way he is, I figured he didn't have it in him to take a stand for something bigger than himself. But now, I think I get it. He didn't have to be so mean about it, but… it wasn't him taking the easy way out. He was just standing on principle. Doing what he had to, even when he'd rather be doing anything else. It was all about living up to his own sense of honor. Just like…"

Just like Seifer.

Perhaps the two had been more alike than she'd thought, after all. However opposed to one another their personalities had been, they'd each held themselves to a moral standard that went beyond their own selfish concerns.

"'Standin' on principle', huh?" Irvine had quipped. He'd strode past her and Angelo with his eyes lowered to the carpet. "Sounds like my kinda guy. Guess the only thing left to find out now… is if there's a heart underneath it all."

Those parting words had lingered with Rinoa. They'd continued to echo in her ears as she'd eaten, and left the dish on the floor for Angelo. Squall's terrible attitude painted a clear picture of a callous, antisocial drone. His emotional detachment was a roadblock for anyone trying to work alongside him. Irvine had every reason to expect a difficult night ahead.

True to his concerns however, the sorceress was the ultimate obstacle in his path. Should she be allowed to unleash her powers, it would surely spell doom not only for their retinue, but the lives of countless innocents. She'd continued to deliberate, pondering how she could make herself useful. It was then she'd been hit by an ingenious revelation, coming to her via a piece of otherwise innocuous information she'd remembered from months ago.

She'd hoisted herself out of bed, and dashed out into the hall. It was specialized technology, sparsely distributed among the armed forces thus far. Regardless, surely the general himself would have at least one pair in his collection.

She'd reached the mansion's west wing, and gone straight for the grand armory. Within minutes of combing over the polished assortment of firearms, blades, and protective gear, she'd found what she was looking for. They now rested on her bedside nightstand. The sheen of their silver casing faded into darkness with the setting sun. She'd debated long and hard whether or not to propose her plan to the others.

It should work.

She raised herself out of bed, snatched the bangles, and shuffled over to the window. A huge procession of people stood amassed before the Presidential Residence in the distance, resembling the city's annual new year celebration. Drawing her gaze back, she peered down to the manor entrance. The doors swung open. Squall stepped out, absent his signature blade at his side. Irvine emerged moments later, adjusting his hat. The man in black fled across the bridge, and the gunslinger followed. The mission had commenced. Her time was running short.

Rinoa spun on her heel. She raced out into the hall, and bolted down the stairs to the main foyer. Quistis, Zell, and Selphie were gathered by the doorway, the latter fighting to stow her nunchaku in the back of her yellow one-piece.

"Hey guys!" she called to them, nearly tripping on the bottom step in her haste.

"Sorry, Rinoa," Quistis apologized. "But, we have to get going. We'll be on our way as soon as your father finishes up in his office."

"Hold on a sec! It's about tonight… I think I've got something that could really help you out. Take a look at these."

She extended the thick metal bracelets in both hands for them to see.

"I found them in his armory. They're called Odine Bangles."

"Odine?" Zell repeated, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "You mean as in Odine Industries?"

"Exactly. It's a brand new piece of equipment they've started producing for the Galbadian government. There was an article about them in one of the Anarchist Monthly issues. It's supposed to generate some kind of negative ion field around the wearer. They're designed to counteract and nullify the energy frequency of the magic you all use. Apparently, it even works both ways; they can be used either to protect the wearer from spellcraft, or restrain them from using their own."

"Damn, first I'm hearing about these things," Zell said. "But if they're Odine brand, I'm not gonna question how well they work."

"Isn't that the same company that produces GFs for Balamb?" Selphie asked in confusion. "I thought they were on our side?"

"They're not on anyone's side, officially. They're an independent contractor. With Esthar being shut off from the rest of the world though, you'd need someone on the inside to make any kind of agreement with them in the first place."

"It looks like the general wasn't lying about Galbadia having their own ties," Quistis interjected. "The administration isn't going to like this one bit."

"Lucky we didn't run into anyone with those back at Dollet," Zell agreed. "Guess it goes to show he really was trying to sabotage his own mission. But anyway, what's the deal? Unless you've got a pair for each of us, I don't see how that's gonna help much. And besides, I know I'm gonna want my GF handy if it comes down to it."

"It's... not for you," Rinoa started meekly, her eyes trained to the cuffs in her hands. "I just figured, if these can cancel out the magic you guys use… maybe it could work on the sorceress? You know, to keep her from using her power if things don't go as planned."

"And how exactly do you plan to get her to put them on?" Quistis snapped. She brazenly stepped to the front of her squad. "Who's going to give them to her? When? Have you given this even the slightest bit of thought?"

"That's what I wanted to discuss!" she fired back.

"We don't have time for this! Squall and Irvine are already en route to their position, and we have our own role to play. Just do as your father says for once and stay out of this! This isn't a game!"

"Who said it was?!" Rinoa defiantly spat; hadn't Squall accused her of the same thing in Timber? "It's not like I don't have a plan! Why do you have to be so high strung about this?! I'm just trying to help!"

"You mean like how you tried to 'help' Squall yesterday?"

Her heart caught in her throat. Quistis stared daggers at her. The reason for the apparent hostility immediately became clear; this argument had nothing to do with practicality or strategy.

"He… told you?"

"He didn't need to. That was a fine job you did in the park. What part of 'easily overstimulated' did you not understand?"

"You were stalking us?!"

Rinoa went wide-eyed with revulsion. Zell and Selphie wore similarly uncomfortable looks by the door, reduced to helpless observers.

"Don't flatter yourself," Quistis menaced. "I couldn't care less how much you want to make things up to him for whatever reason. It's when you start heaping even more baggage on him, knowing what he has ahead, that I take issue. And then you top it all off by blowing up in his face!"

"And you think it's a good idea to just let him fester by himself?!" Rinoa countered, letting all composure fall by the wayside. "As if that's going to help anything!"

"It's better than pouring gasoline on the fire like you've done! I've known him far longer than you have. I understand how he ticks better than you could ever hope to. So, I suggest you swallow your pride, and learn to leave things that don't concern you alone!"

The foyer fell silent in the wake of Quistis' shrill voice. Rinoa stood motionless in the face of it. She tightly clutched at the Odine Bangles, feeling as though she could crush them with her bare hands. She hadn't started this fight. As her fury reached its boiling point however, she vowed she would be the one to finish it.

"Sorry," she snidely apologized. She brought the bangles behind her back, and slipped them into the pouch on her rear. "Far be it from me to go stepping on your toes. I never would've guessed you'd be so easily threatened."

"Excuse me?!" Quistis exploded.

Rinoa smirked. She'd hit just the nerve she'd been aiming for.

"Don't try to hide it. Even an idiot could see the game you're playing here. For someone so worried about Squall cutting himself off from everyone, you sure like to keep him on a tight leash, don't you? It's fine, just as long as he knows he has you, right? And then, one day he'll finally understand that all he needs is his tender, loving girlfriend, or mother-figure, or whatever the hell you think you are, who's always been by his side. It's disgusting! Maybe Seifer was on to something after all! You are a fraud, playing caretaker in the hope somebody will love y-"

The slap cracked hard across her face. Her cheek screamed in pain as her neck twisted sideways. She stumbled, gritting her teeth in anguish. Her eyes had barely even registered the lunge, quick as it was.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that!" Quistis growled. "But while we're on the subject, I'd say Squall was on to something about you! Nothing but a spoiled brat with no respect. Just like your thick-headed boyfriend was!"

"You bitch!" Rinoa shrieked.

Her balled right fist met Quistis' palm in mid-flight. She immediately drew back her left for a low jab, when her legs were suddenly swept out from under her. She toppled over onto the hard tiled floor, landing on her left hip. The impact forced a hiss from her gritted teeth.

"Instructor!" Zell's voice rang out through the hall.

"Stop it, you two!" Selphie frantically yelped.

Rinoa peeked her eyes up, meeting Quistis' indignant face staring down at her.

"You will never win against me," she grumbled. "You're not a fighter. You're a liability. And I'm telling you for the last time to stay out of our business. And Squall's."

"What's going on here?!"

Rinoa craned her neck back. Her father stood in uniform with Buel, the two having emerged from the hall leading to his study.

"N-nothing, sir!" Zell called from the door. He raced forward to Rinoa's side. "Just a little accident. Nothing to worry about! Here, let me help."

He extended his hand to her as Quistis turned back around. She stopped only to retrieve the glove she'd whipped off from the floor. Rinoa rose with Zell's assistance, her hip and cheek both still sore.

"See those three to the car," her father told Buel. "I will be out momentarily."

The aide complied with a bow. Zell grimaced with sympathy to Rinoa, ducking his head as he trailed back to the door. She watched the three file outside one by one. Selphie shot her a concerned glance before stepping through. The large oak doors closed behind Buel, leaving her alone with her father. She braced herself for the impending lecture.

"What happened just now?" he began predictably. "Why is your cheek red?"

"It's none of your concern," she mimicked his intonation from the previous afternoon.

"Well, with an attitude like that, I have a reasonably good guess. I ought to give the other one a smack right now for talking to me like that. Alas, there are more pressing matters to attend to."

He strode forward to the entrance, and propped the left-hand door open with his foot. He brought his hand up to the touch-screen control panel on the wall, pressing his fingers to its surface. With several more command prompts, the mansion's security system was engaged; the moment the front door closed, each and every exit and window would be bolted shut, and the alarm system activated.

"It'll be chaos out there tonight," he told her. "This is for your own safety. Hopefully things will be different once it's all over. Just know this: whatever you may think of me, there are plenty of quarrels I have with how this nation's been run over the years. I'm not proud of every order I've given or carried out. But each action I've taken has been in the hope that one day, lasting change will come. With any luck, tonight will be the first step on the road to better days ahead. Good night. I love you… even after all that's come between us."

He stepped outside, and closed the door behind him. A click sounded as it locked into place. Rinoa stood alone in the foyer, her head bowed in contemplation. It didn't matter whether her father's admission were sincere or just another means to force her into compliance. For each and every plea she'd made, be it with him or with Quistis, she'd been dismissed as a nuisance, shoved to the sidelines, forced to stand idly by as her lover's killer took the stage before the world.

No… I'm not going to just sit here and do nothing. I am not a liability. This isn't a game to me.

She took off down the hallway her father and Buel had come from, blowing by room after room until she came to his study. She turned her focus to her mother's sculpted bust in the corner; it rested on a pedestal within a narrow semi-circular alcove carved into the wall. Her expression was much the same as her portrait further along the wall, solemn yet elegant. And yet, despite the mystique so vividly captured by the artist, it was not the painting which held the secret she sought.

She took hold of the emerald gemstone on the neck, twisted it 90 degrees counter-clockwise, put her free hand to the alcove's rear, and pushed. The wall, pillar, bust, and all slowly swung outward. It opened to reveal a dark stairwell stretching down into the void. She'd unwittingly discovered the secret passageway in her childhood; it connected to the city's sewer system. Over the years, she'd made regular use of it to sneak in and out of the house whenever she could.

The more things change…

She stepped through, turned, and heaved the wall back along its treads. It closed, leaving her in total darkness. She fumbled for the passage's side to guide herself along. Her mind was made up.

I might not be a SeeD, but… I can do this!

"Talk about a packed house," Irvine commented. His words were barely audible over the gathered masses all around them.

"It's history in the making," Squall grumbled. "It never fails to bring out that insecurity in people. That need to be there to see it happen, and be part of something bigger than themselves. It's reassuring to fall in line with the group… or, so I'm told."

"Well, one thing's fer sure: one way or another, they're in fer a night they'll never forget."

Squall swept his eyes over the commotion in the Presidential Square. Where once streams of traffic had crossed, there now stood a veritable sea of people packed together. Two giant display screens had been erected to either side of the Presidential Residence's gates. Both projected a close-up of the now vacant speaking podium high above; the picture was far more clear than that of the Timber TV station's outside monitor. Manned cameras were set up on scaffolding all around the crowd's rim, a waterfall of HD cables running down their sides. Though the communication tower would still be in use to broadcast the proceedings to Esthar, the event would simultaneously be streamed across the cable network to all other areas for which it was viable. It mattered little to Squall; whether grainy or crystal clear, the eyes of the world would be upon them shortly.

The intersecting roads to the east, west, and south were each overseen by a blockade of soldiers, acting as security checkpoints for those arriving. Squall had opted to conceal his GF in the fore of his steel-toed boot for the pat-down procedure. It had given him severe discomfort, with no leeway for his toes, and required he move at a slower pace to appear natural. Regardless, he hadn't been willing to go in without it. He'd already relinquished his gunblade, ammunition compartment, and supply pouch to the general, as had Irvine his shotgun and bullet belt; both sets of weapons and effects were to be handed off to their escort. The metal sphere was his only means of self-defense for the time being. He'd fished it out of his shoe upon taking position, and re-clipped it to his entwined belts.

He looked up again to the digital time display above the Presidential Residence. Each tick brought them another second closer to their moment of destiny.

18:58:34, 18:58:35…

"So, listen," Irvine spoke again. "I've got a question fer ya."

"What? Is it about the plan?"

"Well, sorta. It's jus'… is it true that SeeDs ain't supposed to question their mission?"

Squall abruptly swiveled his head to him. Of every potential issue the sharpshooter could have been needlessly distracted by, he hadn't expected something so poignant. It was the same dilemma he'd been struggling to rationalize over the course of the week.

"Why do you care?" he shot back.

"'Cause I wanna be sure o' the kinda man ya are. Is that somethin' ya hold yerself to fer the sake o' yer honor? Or is it jus' 'bout followin' orders 'cause it's all ya know how to do? I guess what I'm gettin' at is… if it came down to it, d'ya think ya'd be able to let that kinda loyalty go?"

He had no concrete answer prepared. He'd lived his life thus far at the whim of various instructors and superiors; whatever his feelings on the subject matter or exercise at hand, he'd always applied himself, and abided by the Garden code of conduct. The field exam had been a rare instance of insubordination on his otherwise spotless record. That he hadn't been made to share Seifer's punishment still haunted him; perhaps he would even still be alive had he been forced to remain at Balamb with him.

Obedience was a core tenant of the Garden code. Still, he did not regret his dereliction; to learn that Caraway had actually intended for the Dollet invasion to fail only strengthened his resolve. And so, his dilemma: how could he call himself a SeeD in lieu of his defiance to the army's very principles?

"Even so, I'm not entirely without sympathy for your reasoning. The last thing I want is for you all to become mindless machines, incapable of thinking and acting for yourselves. The mark of a great leader is the ability to make the best decision when the right decision isn't always clear."

"It's complicated," he finally answered. "Ask me again when this is all over. Or don't. Tonight's not the night to get hung up on these kinds of things. We both know what needs to be done."

"Have it yer way," Irvine shrugged. "Still… if ya knew yer enemy was pure evil, ya'd naturally be more fired up to fight 'em, right?"

"Pure evil?" Squall repeated.

He did not understand how the question followed from the last. There was little doubt that the sorceress was a fearsome figure, and at the very least culpable in his rival's execution. And yet, he knew nothing of her motivations, nor the road that had led her to an alliance with Galbadia. Did the partnership she'd forged necessarily reflect her moral standing?

"Right and wrong aren't what separate us and our enemies. It comes down to our different standpoints, our perspectives of the world. There's no inherently good or bad position, just two sides holding different views."

Such was the ethos of SeeD, to take no side but the one which provided payment. But even as the words left his mouth, the frustration brought on by Seifer's death refused to relieve itself. He could no longer keep himself emotionally distanced from the operation at hand. It had become personal to him. He sought retribution, and as the last ray of sunlight fell away beyond the horizon, he swore he would have it at any cost.

"Well, here we are," General Caraway announced.

The limousine gradually pushed forward to just beside the Iguion Gate's southern entrance. They'd passed through the security checkpoint without incident, owing to the privacy screen and tinted windows shielding Quistis and her crew from sight. The general's executive permission had been enough to get them through without further scrutiny. A common patrol car would have no such leeway, hence Squall and Irvine's insertion into the crowd ahead of their designated pickup. Pedestrians parted at the behest of the limousine, retreating to the sidewalks. The vehicle slowly turned, coming to a rest before the looming archway.

"This is where we part ways," Caraway continued, extending his open palm out to them. A rusted key lay within his grasp. "I must be on my way to the compound. This is the key to the maintenance door on the right-hand side. Climb the ladder to the top. You'll find the gate controls there. Best of luck."

"General, may I ask what our exit strategy is?" Quistis asked as she rose from her seat to take the key. "Even if we succeed, would we not be cornered inside?"

"Stay put, and keep the door locked," he answered bluntly. "My colleagues close to the president will make arrangements for your release in the aftermath."

"How are they ever gonna get us off the hook for this?" Zell asked incredulously.

"That is not your concern," he declared. The rear door of the limousine opened behind them. "Execute your orders as instructed, and leave the legalistic matters to us. Now, please be on your way. The people of the world are depending on you."

Quistis reluctantly bowed her head, and quickly maneuvered herself out of the vehicle. Selphie and Zell followed after, their own faces uneasy as Buel closed the door and started back around to the driver's side. The three strode onward into the crowd gathered beneath the grand archway. They hugged the right-hand wall as they inched their way forward. No matter how self-assured Caraway seemed of his plan, his refusal to give them a straight answer left Quistis with little confidence.

They soon reached the steel maintenance door ingrained into the side. Quistis jammed the key into the lock, twisted it, and swung the door open with a creak. She stepped into the dimly lit, brick-laden interior. A bulky network of gears rose upward to the ceiling, as did a steel-runged ladder set into the wall.

"Lock the door, Zell," she called back.

He obeyed as she took hold of the rusted handles, and hoisted herself up.

"They're gonnna 'make arrangements' for us?" Zell quipped. "What the hell does that even mean?! Anyone else get the feeling we're being hung out to dry here?"

"Yeah," Selphie agreed. "You'd think they'd have the decency to let us know how we're getting out of this."

"It doesn't matter," Quistis grunted. "It's our duty to execute the mission as instructed, like he said. We'll just have to put our trust in him."

She finally pulled herself up over the lip, and looked around the gateway's control room. A lever protruded out beside the assortment of gears on the west wall. A single window had been installed on the north side, providing an unmatched view of the Presidential Residence. She darted her eyes across the sea of people gathered in front, wondering if perhaps she'd be able to pick out Irvine's cowboy hat among them.

"I guess so," Zell sighed as he followed Selphie up. "All we can do now is make sure our part goes off without a hitch."

"Fortunately, we've already dealt with the biggest inconvenience," Quistis muttered. Her rage threatened to flare up again at the very mention of it.

"You know, it might not be my place, but… I think you should apologize to her when this is all over," Selphie suggested, her tone unusually serious. "That was way over the line. I get that she was disrespectful to you, but it's like Irvine said: the reason she lashes out like that is because it's all she knows how to do. It's just the way people who come from a broken home grow up. No mom, a dad that's never there for her when she needs him… it's not something I'd wish on anyone. So, please… I'm not saying to just roll over and accept that kind of treatment from her, but… maybe try to be more understanding of where she's coming from?"

Quistis thought it over as she continued to stare out the window. She'd tried to be diplomatic with Rinoa, just as she had with Seifer over the years, and in both cases been rewarded with blatant disrespect. Squall had likewise made it abundantly clear he wanted nothing to do with her, either. She'd strived to be understanding of others all her life, only to be humiliated and disregarded time and again.

"They told me I failed as an instructor. That I lacked leadership qualities. That it was a mistake to have given the promotion to someone so inexperienced. I wasn't strict enough, didn't discipline my students the way they wanted. Seifer was all the proof they needed on that one. But that… that… wasn't the kind of instructor I wanted to be. I thought I could do things differently. I thought I could make friends with my students, be the kind of person to build them up instead of tearing them down for every little mistake. I tried my best… I really did. I wonder where I went wrong…"

"You're right. It's not your place. Now, enough talk. We're on standby. Act like it."

Chapter Text

Rinoa heaved up against the manhole cover, raising it ever so slightly, and peered her eyes through the crack. The alleyway was bare save for several carelessly strewn piles of trash. Her years of breaking curfew had imbued her with intimate knowledge of the sewer system; while neither the most elegant nor hygienic mode of passage, it had served her need for escapism all the same. Now, it would help her make the difference she'd long sought to in the fight against Galbadia, and beyond that, alleviate her aching heart of the agony left by words unsaid.

She slid the cover along the pavement, and hoisted herself up to street level. The alley ran between a pair of high-rise buildings to the west end of the Presidential Square. The restless din of the crowd reached her ears from several blocks over. The sky had fallen completely dark; what little light there was came from the streetlamps along the road ahead. She returned the cover to its resting position, and proceeded down the dimly lit stretch. A bustling procession of last-minute stragglers passed by the alley's mouth. She casually stepped out on the sidewalk to mingle with them.

The tall digital clock over the Presidential Residence caught her eye; its display read 19:03:25. She reflexively quickened her pace to a brisk speed-walk. That she did not hear a speech in progress from the street over assured her she still had time to spare, however little. She broke off from the group of townsfolk after three blocks, continuing past the main intersection to the residence's left-hand flank.

She soon came to a narrow side entryway, crowded by various unattended loading vehicles left parked along the street. Two armored guards stood to either side of the iron gate. Neither had yet noticed her, concealed as she was by the nearest cargo truck. She slowly peeked her head over the hood. The knot in her stomach further tightened. Her ruse would require all her wits, and a sharp tongue to match, not to mention luck that they did not immediately notice the sewers' stench on her clothes. She exhaled to calm herself, and stepped out from cover. She moved forward, straightening her posture, and adopting an elegant stride.

Relax. Just be natural, and even a little entitled if you have to. It's not completely untrue, after all.

"State your business," the guard on the right ordered. "This area is off limits to civilians."

"Rinoa Caraway," she introduced herself, adopting the most firm tone she could. "Daughter of General Caraway. I've come to pay our respects to the sorceress in his stead."

The soldier turned his head to his fellow sentry. Their visors met in what seemed to be skepticism.

"Did the general have a daughter?"

"I think I remember hearing something about that a few years back," the other replied.

"Please, let me through!" she doubled down. "I need to see her right away!"

"I'm afraid we're going to need to see some ID first," the guard told her. "Sorry, we're not just going to take your word for it."

Rinoa's heart sunk into her stomach. Her old city residence card had gone up with the rest of the Forest Owls' hideout, leaving her with nothing on hand to prove her legitimacy.

"I don't have time for this!" she piled on the frantic intensity. "She's expecting me! I'm telling you, if you don't let me in to see her, my father's not the only one you're going to be hearing from about this!"

"And I'm telling you that if we can't verify who you are, you're not coming in! It's that simple. We're not about to let a complete stranger stroll onto the premises. If you don't have an ID, then please leave the area. I'm not going to ask you-"

"Hey, what's goin' on over here?"

Rinoa turned her head to see a third soldier approaching from the direction of the Presidential Square. He strode down the sidewalk at a brisk jaunt.

"This girl says she's the general's daughter," the second guard told him. "I've never seen her around, and she really doesn't want to show us any kind of ID. What about you, Owens? Ring any bells?"

The newcomer looked Rinoa up and down, his lips pursed in contemplation. She began to consider if her efforts were in vain after all; perhaps the best course of action now would be a hasty retreat the moment she got the chance.

"Wait a minute," the solder suddenly spoke. "Yeah, I remember you!"

Her heart skipped a beat.

"You were the one with the sorceress' knight yesterday, right? You know, when I bumped into him in the square. He's… not still mad about what I said, is he? It was an honest mistake, I swear!"

"Hold it, Owens," the first guard suddenly cut in. Rinoa struggled to keep her face free of befuddlement in the meantime.

He's obviously talking about Squall, but… 'sorceress' knight'? What's that supposed to mean?

"The knight hasn't stepped off the premises for the last three days! You couldn't have seen him in the square!"

"Yeah," the second concurred. "And your beat's been out here ever since he showed up, right? So, how the hell would you know what he looks like?"

"'Cause he was exactly like Boals told me back at the barracks," Owens insisted. "Young kid with a scar running down from his forehead and across the bridge of his nose, right? You're not gonna tell me there'd be two guys with a wound just like that!"

Rinoa's blood froze. Her confusion abruptly turned to shock, which then blossomed into hope, before reverting back to bewilderment all in the span of a second. Countless questions shot through her mind, each and every one composite to a single, earth-shattering revelation. There had in fact been two men with such a scar. If what she was hearing could be believed, there still were.

"I… guess not," the first guard muttered. "It doesn't make any sense, though. I could've sworn he never-"

"D-do you believe me now?!" Rinoa cut him off. "I've told you once: if you don't let me through, you're going to have more people to answer to than just my father!"

The three soldiers fell silent. With an exasperated sigh, the first turned around, gripped the gate's iron latch, and heaved it upward into its unlocked position. He swung it open with one arm.

"Be quick about it," he grumbled. "The president should be starting his speech any minute now."

Rinoa bowed her head, and practically bolted on through the gate. She emerged onto the western stretch of the complex's inner courtyard. Dozens of unpacked wooden crates lay piled up across the expanse, gutted of their contents, and left cluttered about the premises. She navigated her way around them to the front of the complex. Reaching the curved wall just before the revolving glass entrance, she pressed her back up against it and poked her head around the corner.

The main gate stood at the fore. The streets beyond were packed to the brim with city folk, their restless murmuring carried over on the wind. A massive parade float sat on the opposite end of the inner courtyard, illuminated by the two blazing torches on either side of its front, and the glowing blue halo fixture above. A gilded throne framed by large angel wings sat at the platform's rear.

A marching band and a troupe of masked dancers in red and black leather were gathered all around. Rinoa scanned her eyes over the congregation, looking for any sign of the signature blonde hair or grey jacket. Could it have been possible? Had the sorceress in fact spared his life, despite the word they'd received to the contrary? And if so, what did it all mean?

'The sorceress' knight'… there's no way he would-

"Good evening, people of Deling City!" a sudden amplified proclamation reverberated overhead. "Nay, people of the world! On behalf of the Galbadian Presidential Administration, I bid you all welcome on this monumental night!"

A reasonably energetic round of applause sprung up beyond the gates. Despite the swell in volume, Rinoa knew it to be born out obligation as opposed to genuine enthusiasm. Even among his nation's own people, Deling's approval had been on a steady decline since the end of the war 17 years earlier. He'd been granted his indefinite term extension solely for the purpose of maintaining stable leadership during that period, with the expectation that he would step down afterward. As no formal treaty had been signed with Esthar however, the legalese under which the extension had been passed remained in effect. He'd now been president for a full two decades after his initial term should have ended. To have now suddenly forged an alliance with another sorceress only provided further cause for concern.

"We thank you all for waiting so patiently!" the emcee continued. "It is a very special occasion indeed! Tonight, we gather to celebrate the union of our great nation with our esteemed guest of honor, Sorceress Edea. But first, let us welcome a familiar face to the stage. Making his first public appearance since the attempt on his life in Timber, ladies and gentlemen, President Vinzer Deling!"

Rinoa dashed around the corner and in through the revolving front entrance. Several attendants and other staff traipsed across the ornamented grand foyer, none paying her any mind as she entered. It seemed she would not need to fall back on her cover story again so quickly; that she'd been granted entry onto the premises to begin with was apparently enough not to draw attention. She confidently and calmly marched forward to the main staircase, and ascended to the upper levels.

Her first and only prior visit to the Presidential Residence had been at age 11, when she and her father had attended Deling's son's wedding. The reception then had been relegated to the second floor ballroom. As such, her memory was of no use in navigating the third floor's winding halls. She closely hugged the walls as she progressed, keeping her sense of direction oriented towards the estate's southern end. Voices approaching from down the adjacent halls forced her to double back twice; she doubted those higher up the chain of command would be as likely to buy her explanation.

After roughly two minutes, she turned along a windowed intersection to reach an ornate oak doorway. A silver plaque above read 'Commencement Hall'. She strode forward, and pressed her ear to the etchings. Faint reverberations of Deling's ongoing speech were all she could discern. With a quick glance down either end of the corridor, she sucked in a deep breath, and delicately cracked open the door.

Her eyes met the dimly lit hall within, swathed in translucent white drapery from front to back. The only light came from a chandelier hung high above in the center, situated in a domed alcove of blue stained glass. A lone figure sat in a love seat directly below, facing a set of closed double doors on the opposite end of the hall. She wore a large golden back-piece; seven pointed spokes jutted out from its half-circle base. A pair of flowing trails fashioned from the same sheer fabric as the curtains dangled from the bottom. Through the gaps in between the spokes, she noticed the familiar headdress topped by three curving, devilish horns.

Rinoa's pulse quickened. She reached back into her rear pouch, and withdrew one of the Odine Bangles; just one would suffice, namely the one not equipped with the switch to engage their magnetic binding to each other. She'd come so far. She now stood within a matter of yards from the second most important figurehead in Galbadia. And yet, knowing what she needed to do, the distance between might have been a mile. She would need to be deathly quiet in her approach, delicate in her enactment, and faster than she'd ever moved to make her getaway.

Steadying her breath support, she cracked open the door further, and sidled inside, closing it as discreetly as possible. The sorceress remained stationary. She slowly crept up behind, putting the utmost care into each step. Before long, she stopped breathing altogether; it was as much to keep herself quiet as to steady her shaking hand holding the bracelet. Just five more steps remained. Four. Three. Two.

"Explain yourself."

The frigid voice halted Rinoa in her tracks. Her eyes went wide.

"P-pardon me, your… excellency," she stammered. "I'm, um… the d-daughter of General Caraway. I just thought I'd… you know, come pay my r-respects… on behalf of my father and all. So, anyway… I, um, brought you a small gift. It's… um, a family heirloom, and we'd be h-honored if you'd wear it tonight."

She slowly maneuvered herself to the side of the chair. The sorceress wore the same crimson bird-shaped mask she'd had on in the TV station's dressing room. Rinoa carefully lowered the bangle down to her slender arm, entirely covered by the sleeves of her dark violet, skin-tight dress.

"Please, allow me-"

She'd barely gotten the words out when she was knocked off her feet by a sudden invisible blow. The bracelet fell from her grasp as she flew backwards, slamming into the left-hand wall. The impact knocked every breath of anxiously withheld air from her lungs. She let out a cry, helpless as she lay entangled in the white drapery. In her disorientation, she felt her mind descend into a haze. The room around her swirled into a thick, nigh impenetrable fog. A sharp stinging bored into her head as an eerie silhouette of a woman's face suddenly came into focus before her eyes.

[Do you think me a fool, little girl?]

The chilling sneer shot through her head not by way of her ears, but a strange form of telepathy. She strained her mouth to respond. Her jaw did not comply. Neither did her arms or legs; she had lost all control of her anatomy.

[How pathetic. That you would think me so naive as to willingly accept that cursed trinket. I cannot allow such treachery to go unpunished. But alas, the moment I have long awaited, the night to be written of in legend is finally upon us. And perhaps before you die, you shall make for fine stage dressing in my hour of triumph. Come.]

Her body no longer operating of her own will, Rinoa sluggishly rose to her feet, untangled herself from the curtains, and stumbled to the sorceress' side as commanded.

"I will not stand to be intimidated by these cowardly attempts on my life," Deling declared from the podium high above. "Rest assured, my resolve to usher this nation onward towards a brighter future has never been stronger. And with it, my confidence in the alliance we have forged with our esteemed guest of honor grows stronger still."

The crowd's cheers had been underwhelming thus far. Squall stood beside Irvine in silence among them all, waiting for the sorceress to make her appearance. Per Caraway's earlier briefing, the security forces would begin marshaling the pedestrians out of the street once she'd finished her own address. The resulting bustle would allow them to make their way along the crowd's left side to the extraction point. He'd become increasingly antsy as he continued to wait, the pressure mounting ever more as the clock ticked on. At nearly quarter past 1900, the general's assurance that the float would pass back under the gate at 2000 was becoming increasingly more difficult to believe.

Well, it shouldn't be a problem as long as it's not any earlier.

"The mysterious, magical gift of the sorceress is a power we have sought to make our own for many years now," Deling spoke. "It has been a long and winding journey, rife with monumental setbacks. And so, citizens of Deling City, and all those watching around the globe, it is my utmost honor to present to you our newest and most cherished ally, by whose blessing we shall lead Galbadia into a new era of prosperity upon the world stage. Please welcome, Sorceress Edea!"

The president stepped to the side of the podium. The crowd remained tepid, many disconcertingly murmuring to one another. Squall kept his eyes trained to the nearest display screen. He exhaled deeply to calm his nerves. Seconds later, the familiar slender figure stepped into the camera's frame. An elegant golden back-piece was secured to her tight, form-fitting attire. The same bird's-head mask concealed her face as she strode up to the podium, the peoples' unsettled buzzing instantly doubling in volume.

Now bathed in the spotlight's glare, Squall could make out the various articles adorning her headpiece: three fiendish curved horns to the left; a silver comb-like fixture with dangling beads to the right; a pair of circular earpieces with non-matching jeweled earrings; and a spiral sea shell fixed above her left ear. It was beyond any doubt the most bizarre fashion statement he'd ever seen; aside from the earpieces, it all appeared to have been arranged with no regard for symmetry whatsoever. Surrealism seemed to be its intent, with a touch of theatricality via the mask. She gingerly raised her right hand before her face, taking her time as if to savor the rising unease. She clasped the mask, and slowly drew it down inch by inch to reveal herself.

Squall sucked in another breath reflexively, as did the rest of the crowd in apparent shock. Her face perfectly complimented her eerie regalia; the unnatural yellow glow of her eyes stood out fiercely from the violet eyeshadow and lip gloss. He couldn't begin to guess at her age. While her pallid features' relative fairness implied that she couldn't be older than her early to mid 40's, an intertwining network of veins spreading along her cheeks gave her a far older, more sickly appearance.

"I don't fuckin' believe it."

He turned to Irvine. The sharpshooter stood motionless at his shoulder, mouth agape and eyes wide in awe. He was far from the only one among them. It truly was a sight seemingly plucked from a bad dream, and perhaps even one of Squall's own; the otherworldly glow of her eyes unnerved him to the core. He shifted his gaze to the podium proper to be sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. As he did so, he noticed a streak of blue shuffle into place at her side opposite Deling. He glanced back to the display screen, and promptly felt his own jaw drop. Rinoa stumbled drunkenly to the fore of the platform, her eyes glazed over.

"What the hell is she doing up there?!" he frantically hissed to Irvine.

"Yer askin' the wrong guy!" the sniper replied. "She don't look like she's all there, either!"

That idiot! Please tell me she hasn't completely ruined our plan…

As he silently prayed, the sorceress raised her gloved left hand high above. A faint aura rapidly clustered within her palm, the dark energy lapping at her fingers as it intensified. Squall preemptively reached down to activate his GF sphere on his belt; whatever sort of spell it was, he would be ready to counter it should the need arise. The onlookers below gasped in amazement at the incantation. The next moment, a shock-wave erupted from her grasp. It sped through the air, passing over the heads of the gathered masses.

Instantly, a sharp pain shot through Squall's mind. He fell to one knee with the rest of the crowd as a deafening cry of anguish rang out all around. His eyes began to cloud. A thick veil of darkness blotted out all before him. He could feel his consciousness begin to twist and malform under the strain of the spell. He swore he could even hear the whispering of a thousand wicked voices in the deepest recess of his mind, tempting him to give in.

Fighting as hard as he could, he compulsively began to channel his GF's energy. He visualized the flames, willing the energy to gather in his mental faculties. Before long, the familiar rush took hold of him. The fog began to dissipate, shrinking back into the corners of his vision before disappearing beyond the periphery.

Not wasting a moment, he spun to the kneeling Irvine and snatched him by the scruff of his neck. He rapidly pumped the raw, unrefined energy through his palm, the sheer amount he was expending leading him to fear he might inadvertently summon his fire demon. It engulfed the sharpshooter's body, washing over him in a shimmering shroud. The citizens all around them looked to be faring no better. Some remained doubled over, while others had risen to their feet, standing motionless amid the chaos. Eventually, Irvine's labored breathing subsided. Squall disengaged the stream of energy as he rose to his feet, and removed his hand from the back of his neck.

"Th-thanks," he stammered, fighting to catch his breath.

"Whatever," Squall downplayed it.

His response, however softly spoken, was remarkably audible. The square, consumed by panic mere moments ago, had fallen quiet. The townspeople all around had returned to their feet. There was no anxious muttering, nor cries of terror. All looked to their attacker up on the podium in uniform stillness. The silence was at last broken as the sorceress cleared her throat before the microphone.

"Well?!" she finally spoke. Her harsh, accusatory tone boomed over the loudspeakers. "Is this not the fated night of terror I have so long awaited?! Show me my due respect, you shameless, filthy wretches!"

On command, the entire audience erupted into a cheer far louder than any Deling had received. Squall covered his ears. The people's minds were no longer their own, Rinoa having doubtless fallen victim to the same mental probing. Only Deling, still smirking by Edea's side, appeared unaffected.

"Ah, what sweet irony," she continued with amusement. "How you celebrate my ascension with such joy, hailing the very one you have condemned for generations! Marionettes tied to my will though you may be."

"This can't be real!" Irvine gaped in awe. "Tell me I'm not seein' this shit!"

"But then, who have been the ones disgraced and mocked before the world? Who have for so long been puppeteered about as caricatures for your own sick amusement? Since time immemorial, we sorceresses have lived bound to the illusion propagated by man, to a foolish fantasy born out of fear and loathing. How you have adorned us in these dreadful costumes, to be vilified and scorned for the most heinous charges. The terrible witches who set ablaze your green fields, who callously freeze your warm homes, who curse such virtuous humans as yourselves by means of cruel rituals. And yet now, as one such wicked woman stands before you, as an ally to Galbadia, you have the gall to sigh in relief? Such disgusting hypocrisy! Have you no shame?"

The people below continued to hoop and holler wildly, rendered incapable of understanding her scathing words. A chill ran down Squall's spine. He stood at the very epicenter of history in the making, left to hold on for dear life as the world came crumbling down around him.

"Such a pity. How unfortunate that you would let yourselves be wrapped up in such fantastical daydreaming. For I stand before you tonight not as an ally, but your new ruler! A new era has just begun."

"E-Edea?" Deling's voice came in over the sound system. He gently approached her from the side of the podium. "Are you feeling alright? Ede-"

Her left arm shot out in a flash, seizing hold of the president's undershirt through his suit jacket. Lightning exploded from her grasp the next moment. Sparks flew wildly from Deling's violently jerking figure, lighting up the night. The microphone picked up the portly man's tortured sputtering as he was electrocuted before the entire world. As if on cue, the video feed on the two display screens suddenly cut to static. That the broadcast control team hadn't seen fit to do so as soon as she'd begun attacking the crowd was the least of Squall's worries now.

The lightning finally fizzled out, leaving Deling's smoking corpse held upright in one hand, his dangling limbs still twitching from the current. Even from afar, Squall could tell his skin had been charred almost completely black.

"Reality is not at all kind," Edea menaced. "It is a cruel, unfeeling mistress, and one which every man, woman, and child must face on their own! Such is the truth of the world, no matter how desperately you cling to your fantasies. No one can help you. So, just sit back and enjoy the show."

She ruthlessly flung Deling off the front of the Presidential Residence. The mindless cheering continued as his body plummeted from the roof, and disappeared behind the main gate.

"Rest assured, you fools, your time will come. This is only the beginning. Let us start a new reign of terror, and together, we shall forge the final fantasy, a world beyond the imagination of any mere mortal!"

Squall was too taken aback to even feign understanding. Edea smirked in contentment, adoring the admiration of her captive audience, before making a sidelong glance to Rinoa, still swaying unsteadily at her side.

"Let us end this ceremony with a sacrifice."

She raised both of her arms out over the podium. Squall braced himself for another spell as a glowing light began to gather in each palm. Two beams of energy promptly loosed themselves, soaring harmlessly over the crowd. He spun around to see them impact at the apex of the Iguion Gate. His heart sunk even further into his stomach; had she indeed learned of the plot from Rinoa, and somehow uncovered the gateway team's position?

Rather than obliterating the arch, the beams remained stationary, focused on a pair of the numerous gargoyles sculpted across it. The two in question looked to resemble large lizard creatures, their claws perpetually embedded into the architecture. And then, in what at first seemed to be a trick of the light as the beams dissipated, they began moving. They turned to clamber their way down the arch, and dropped into the street atop a cluster of bystanders.

The monsters charged ahead through the crowd. Despite their brainwashing, most appeared to have still retained their self-preservation instinct, and leapt out of the way. As they drew near, Squall could tell for a fact that the lizards were no longer stone. They tore past to reach the gateway, and leapt high over the spiked iron barrier.

Above, a swirling black mist had engulfed Edea, just as in Timber. She disappeared into the void just as quickly. Rinoa stumbled in place, clutching her head in her hands. After a moment, she raised her head back up, and darted her eyes every which way; evidently, she had regained control of herself. The lizards scaled the building swiftly, and were upon her in seconds.

"Rinoa!" Irvine shouted in dismay. "We gotta get up there, now!"

"You think I don't know that?!" Squall snapped, feeling as though his heart might burst from the sheer adrenaline. "But we can't do anything until the gates open!"

"We don't got time fer that, dammit! This fuckin' sucks! Ain't there any other way in?!"

"Even if there were, what good would we be without our weapons?!"

Squall knew he could clear the front gates via the wind-leap technique if need be. Besides requiring all his of strength to do so while carrying Irvine over however, the two would be left without their weapons in lieu of forsaking their assigned transport. There would be no hope for victory should they be forced into battle with the sorceress before the parade had gotten underway. Blasting their way in with the power of his fire demon was also out of the question; doing so would be bound to draw the sorceress' attention, to speak nothing of potentially causing yet more civilian casualties.

"Let's just get moving!" he commanded, barreling his way through the horde of mindless drones. "There's nothing we can do but stick to the plan, and hope she's quick enough on her feet."

"You've gotta be jokin'!" Irvine snapped from behind. "Yer jus' gonna leave her up there to fend fer herself?! That ain't right!"

But it's what's best.

"We're going to save her! But this is bigger than any one of us. We need to keep our focus on the mission. The entire world is depending on us!"

He had no intention of leaving Rinoa to die if he could help it. And yet, would rushing in to save her be worth compromising the operation? Did ensuring the safety of one person take priority over his sworn duty, by which they would no doubt save the lives of millions? The answer was a resounding no. Such was the hopeless scenario he'd been presented with. Should he allow his emotions to control his judgment, as Seifer had, he would certainly meet the same fate as his rival, and doom the world to Edea's conquest.

Why am I even getting so worked up about her? It's such a simple choice. She's been nothing but a nuisance since Timber. She got herself into this mess, against her father's wishes, and now she's going to pay the price. The world is cruel, and everyone faces it-

He ground to a halt as they reached their extraction point. So too did his train of thought; hadn't Edea just said the very same thing? It shook him to consider that one so despicable could share the very same philosophy he'd always lived by. Had his life spent in solitude set him on such a path as well? Was he destined to one day become the same as her?

No… good and evil aren't what separate us. It's our perspectives, our experiences that define who we are. But… how could something like this be anything but evil?

The patrol car screeched to a stop beside them. He snatched hold of the rear door handle, and swung it open. His gunblade and Irvine's shotgun stood propped up against the rear of the driver's seat, their ammunition reserves and his medical supply pouch slung over top. Squall practically leapt inside. He slid over to the other end of the carriage, and drew his sword into his lap. Irvine followed him in, slamming the door behind.

"I can't believe she actually killed him!" the soldier in the passenger seat exclaimed. "No one 'round the barracks trusted her for a second, and we were right!"

"He thought he could play with fire, without having any idea how to control it," Squall said. He passed his teammate his weapon and bullet belt. "What's done is done. Get us in there the instant those gates open."

"It's gonna be a free-for-all," the driver responded. "The paramedic detachments are en route. Soon as that float clears the entrance, it'll be a clusterfuck."

"Then make sure we're the first ones through, whatever it takes!"

Squall opened the gunblade's cylinder, reached into his ammunition compartment, and filled the empty chambers. He spun it back into place, and attached the reserve to his belt beside his medical supplies. The blade itself went on his left side. His heart pounded in his ears. His vision narrowed as the nervous energy threatened to overtake him. Time cruelly ticked on, Rinoa's demise becoming all the more likely with each passing second, were she not already dead.

Just let her be alive… she's still my client.

"Hold on tight!" the driver shouted.

He shifted into gear, and tore off with a monstrous rev of the engine. Squall clutched the headrest, pulling himself forward to look through the windshield. Flashing red emergency lights approached from the other end of the square ahead. Closer still, a uniformed brass ensemble marched out from the gateway. A troupe of dancers in gaudy attire like Edea's own followed, swaying hypnotically to the tune. The massive golden float emerged behind, illuminated by the twin sconces at its fore. The sorceress was seated on the throne at its rear.

A second figure stood at the front, tall and bedecked in a long grey jacket. A pang of familiarity struck Squall as the patrol car drew ever closer; the wardrobe and short head of blonde hair were too similar not to pique his curiosity. His suspicion turned to shock as the man raised his right arm to the skies above; he held aloft an ebony blade, grasped in a manner befitting a pistol.

No way…

A dead man stood proudly on the sorceress' parade float. He smirked contentedly to brainwashed masses below, all feebly stumbling out of the way. Squall's jaw dropped. He was nearly thrown off balance as the patrol car abruptly pivoted, aimed directly for the widening gap between the float's rear and the gate's outer edge. Though he could no longer see him through the windshield, the image remained clear as day in his mind's eye. Seifer was alive, and under the sorceress' command.

"Holy shit!" Zell cried out as the two lizard creatures cleared the Presidential Residence's gates.

Quistis stood by his side in abject horror, staring out the window to the rooftop podium in the distance. The sorceress had vanished into her dark cloud of mist before the reptiles could scale the estate. The first reached the top, and lunged right for the disoriented Rinoa.

"She's in trouble!" Selphie shrilled. "What are we gonna do?!"

"Nothing," Quistis sighed. She turned away from the ensuing tragedy in pity. "There's nothing we can do."

"The hell there isn't!" Zell roared. He spun around, and bolted for the ladder. "I'm going in!"

"Stop!"

Zell complied in mid-motion; he'd been so quick, he'd already begun maneuvering his legs over the edge.

"Don't just go rushing out there! You don't even have a way of getting inside, much less saving her in time."

"I'll blow the damn gates down if I have to!" he shouted back. "Whatever it takes! I'm not just gonna sit around up here and watch her get mauled! I'd never be able to live with myself!"

"Even if you do somehow get inside, she'll be dead long before then. All you'd be doing is giving away our presence, and destroying any hope of the mission's success. Which might be down to us three at this point. Chances are Squall and Irvine were hypnotized with the rest of the crowd. If they can't make it into position, we're the ones who'll have to do the job. You've seen what she's capable of. It's going to take all our strength to have even the slightest chance of defeating her. I'm telling you, going off on your own will just make things worse for all of us."

Zell stayed clinging to the ladder with his head bowed. Despite her blunt delivery, Quistis was not without sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Zell. But it's times like these when you have to accept the cold, hard truth. It's part and parcel of being a SeeD. She got herself involved in this mess, even after her father and I told her over and over to stay out of it. Now she's backed herself into a corner, and there's no one around to save her. It's just like that vile woman said: 'reality isn't kind'."

The words pained her to acknowledge; they were exactly the sort she would usually expect to hear from Squall. Zell raised his head slowly, meeting her eyes with an unmistakable look of disappointment. Begrudgingly, he hoisted himself back up.

"Understood… Operative Trepe."

He shuffled his way into the far corner by the gate controls, seating himself on the floor. Quistis turned back to Selphie by the window, the girl's own eyes downcast. The brainwashed masses below dispersed to either side of the street. Further in the distance, the residence's front gate parted, giving way to a full marching band. They were followed by a troupe of masked dancers, and finally a golden parade float. The sorceress sat on its throne, no doubt satisfied with the festival of fear she'd orchestrated.

First had been the all-encompassing hypnosis spell; their position so high up above was likely what had spared the three of them from the same fate. Then had come the president's brutal public execution. And finally, the animation of the life-sized lizard statues, now thrusting their bodies one after the other against the rooftop's closed double doors. The two broke through within moments and charged inside. That she would not be forced to witness Rinoa's fate with her own eyes was Quistis' only comfort.

A throng of patrol and paramedic vehicles swarmed the front gates from either side of the intersection. Meanwhile, the procession continued along their pre-planned route on the main street. Quistis peered down on the parade float from on high. Her vision shifted from the sorceress at the rear, to a lone swordsman in grey standing at the front. She blinked her eyes in disbelief upon noticing the weapon in his hand.

"Seifer?!" she blurted out, fixing her hands to the windowsill to keep from falling over.

"What about him?" Selphie asked. She peered down herself, and immediately gasped. "No way! It is him!"

"Say what?!" Zell snapped to attention.

He bolted back over to the window, taking his place at Quistis' left. As the motorcade drew closer, the head of short blonde hair became more pronounced, as did the gunblade in his hand.

"That damn double-crosser! And to think, I actually felt sorry for him!"

"He's probably been brainwashed like the rest!" Quistis reminded him.

"So, if we're really going to confront her head on, does that mean… we have to go through him first?" Selphie shakily muttered.

"It changes nothing," Quistis declared. "It just means that now, more than ever, we have to make sure this ends tonight. Zell, head on down and take point by the door. Selphie, keep an eye on the clock. I'll man the gate controls. We spring the trap when the float comes back around. If there's no rifle shot, we charge. It might not be much of a plan, but it's all we have. For Rinoa's sake… no, for the sake of the world, we must not fail."

Chapter Text

The patrol car screeched to a halt in front of the Presidential Residence. Squall steadied himself with one hand against the headrest, and thrust open the car door with the other, nearly sending it flying off its hinges. Irvine mirrored him on the other side. Both stepped out onto the inner courtyard as the sirens and flashing lights drew closer from behind. Deling's still-smoking remains lay contorted on the pavement off to the side. He paid neither any mind as he raced around the car towards the estate. The gunslinger matched his pace.

"Hold onto my arm!" Squall told him, extending his right without breaking stride.

"Huh?" Irvine shot him a confused look. "Sorry bud, I don't like ya that wa-"

"Just shut up and do it!"

The sniper complied as the familiar rush gathered in his leg muscles. Aware of the weight differential he would need to compensate for, he poured in as much energy as he could manage to ensure they would clear the third floor landing. He picked up speed at an alarming rate, pushing the clinging Irvine to his limits just to keep up. He reached the base of the residence, and leapt with all of his might.

He soared upward, carried higher and higher by the wind's propulsion. The dead weight fixed to his arm hooted in awe. They quickly neared the speaking podium, and landed just before it with a hard thud; he had just cleared a height of more than 20 feet to reach the top level. Without Irvine weighing him down, the jump would surely have carried him as high as the digital time display. He might not have even had enough strength left to conjure an ample flotation buffer to break his fall; he'd already used up an enormous amount in warding off the sorceress' mind probing. He was approaching his limit. His physiological tolerance for harnessing the sphere's energy would return with time, albeit too slowly should he have to face Edea within the hour. Going up against her without it would be suicide.

"Relying on charity to fight your battles will only get you so far, especially when that power can be revoked just as easily. The only thing in this world you can depend on is your own skill as a fighter. That's something no one can take away from you."

"Thanks fer the lift!" Irvine groaned. He pushed himself up, and drew his shotgun from its holster. "Now, c'mon! We've gotta rescue her!"

Squall heaved himself up, and maneuvered around the podium. They shot straight for the broken down doorway at the back, crossing a wide circular stretch of metal. Each stomp of their boots brought with it a hollowed-out reverberation from below. The caution signs painted around its circumference indicated it was the closed up carousel silo resting beneath their feet. They darted over top and into the adjoining corridor. Bestial snarls echoed from the room at the end, prompting him to pump his legs even harder. He barely even noticed the maintenance hatch Caraway had mentioned as he blew by it.

Please, be alive…

He burst into a dimly lit hall lined by sheer white drapery. Most of the translucent fabric dangled about in tatters, shredded by the creatures' claws. One thrashed about on the floor to the right side; its teeth gnashed as it fought to untangle itself from the curtains. The second stood hunched on the opposite side. It bore down on Rinoa, who stood shaking against the wall. The fringes of her duster sweater had been torn to ribbons, revealing a set of fresh crimson gashes across her thighs and the side of her torso. Her face was the epitome of terror. She turned to him with fearful eyes. Her quivering lips parted, only for her to be drowned out by the lizard's roar as it pounced.

Squall reflexively opened his own mouth, only to be prematurely silenced by a deafening blast from just beside him. The monster careened through the air with a guttural squeal, and crashed to the floor on its side. He turned back to Irvine. Smoke wafted from the barrels of his shotgun.

"I'll put 'er down if ya take care o' the other one," he quipped as he pumped the weapon. The empty shells clattered to the floor.

Drawing his gunblade, Squall sped across the hall to second beast. It snarled as he charged in, having freshly extricated itself from the drapes, and hunched itself back to strike. He hoisted the weapon over his shoulder, and brought it down just as the lizard leapt for him. He pulled the trigger as the blade met its jagged green scales. The slash cleaved its neck and a sliver of its upper torso from the rest of its body. Both halves fell to the floor, and promptly crumbled. There was no blood; to his amazement, the lizard had instantly reverted back into stone upon death.

A second shotgun blast drew his attention back to the other side of the room. Irvine stood with his boot atop the other lizard's torso. The smoking shotgun hovered over its head, now blown to pieces; scattered fragments of stone littered the floor all around.

"Use the bodies to barricade the doors," Squall ordered Irvine.

He sheathed his blade, and hurried over to Rinoa's side. She sat motionless upon the floor, her eyes unblinking.

"Are you alright?" he asked, kneeling down. "Can you walk? We need to get into position before we're discovered. I'll patch you up once we're in the clear."

Still, she did not budge an inch. She seemed to have become catatonic, numb to the world even as blood continued to seep from her wounds.

"Rinoa? Are you okay?"

"I… I was scared," she finally eked out. Her hand seized hold of his jacket's sleeve. "Really… really scared. I just… I thought I could help. I thought I could take care of myself, but… I was wrong. I couldn't fight alone."

You're not ready for all this…

"Just stick close to me," he told her, taking her wrist with his other hand to help her up.

She trembled as she fought to find her footing. Squall slung her arm over his shoulders, and guided her back towards the connecting corridor. Irvine fell in once he'd finished piling up the shattered statues. Together, the three passed back into the hallway. Squall guided them to the nearby hatch ingrained into the floor. The sniper knelt down, took hold of the latches, and flung it open. A steel ladder descended down a short drop, roughly six feet.

"Can you climb?" Squall asked Rinoa as Irvine went ahead of them. "Or do you need us to lower you down?"

"I… I think I'll be alright," she muttered.

She removed her arm from around his neck, and crouched down. A small wince of pain escaped her gritted teeth as she clutched at her clawed left thigh.

"Don't push it," Irvine told her. "Jus' let yerself down nice an' easy. I'll catch ya."

Seeming to realize how difficult taking the ladder would be for her, Rinoa lowered herself to her rear, and draped her legs over the edge. She slid herself along until gravity took its course. Irvine caught her in his outstretched arms. Squall moved into position, and descended the ladder. He pulled the trapdoor shut as his head cleared the floor. With all light from above now cut off, a row of orange emergency lamps lining the walls stretched down a low-clearance maintenance shaft ahead. He touched down on the grated metal walkway, and followed after Irvine and Rinoa. The gunman kept his head hunched under the low ceiling as he pushed on.

The shaft soon opened into a wide circular silo. The pointed top of a large mechanized carousel sat in the center. Eight mannequins resembling a troupe of jesters were evenly spaced around it, their eerie silhouettes casting shadows in the dim interior lighting. A scoped hunting rifle was propped up against the nearest mechanical dancer. The wooden make of its grip suggested it was not military issue.

Besides hurried footsteps trampling on the silo's cover above, Squall could hear little else through the metal plating. The parade's blaring music had long since faded away. It would no doubt return in due time as the float made its second pass through the square from the west end. From there, provided they could still trust Caraway's itinerary, it would circle back around to the station, and return up the main drag. He looked to his wristwatch: 19:37.

"About 20 minutes," he announced, turning to the man of the hour. "Irvine Kinneas, it's in your hands now. Make that shot count."

The sniper did not respond; his head remained bowed despite the abundance of headroom. Without a word, he strode forward to the rifle, hoisted it up, and slung the strap over his shoulder. There was no longer any trace of his usual cocky attitude about him.

"It's the nature o' the sharpshooter. Comes with the territory an' all. We hone our instincts fer years. We learn to live with the loneliness. To love the thrill o' the anticipation. The pressure o' the moment, that instant o' tension just before the trigger's pulled, to hafta focus your whole bein' into a single bullet… it's a rough life out in the field, an' every man faces it alone."

Oh, he must be concentrating.

For all his bluster, Irvine did seem the type to take his work seriously. He shuffled to the carousel's fore, and seated himself. Squall turned his attention to the still limping Rinoa, and gestured for her to sit beside one of the mannequins.

"Come on, let's get those wounds treated before they get infected."

The girl obeyed. She steadily lowered herself to the statue's base as he reached for his medical supply pouch. He knelt by her side, pulling out a small bottle of disinfectant solution, a sheer cloth, and a handful of bandages. He uncorked the bottle, and poured some onto the rag.

"This might sting a bit," he warned her.

"I'll be fine," she insisted. She stuck out both her legs for him.

He wiped and patted gently across the tears on her outer thighs. She predictably winced every so often, but otherwise was a well-behaved patient. Eventually, he moved up to the talon marks on her waist. She pulled the shredded blue fabric aside to expose the ripped black tank top beneath; the double layering was perhaps what had kept the creatures' claws from digging in further. None of the gashes were as deep as his own facial scar, leaving promise that they would mend with time. Once sanitized and left to air-dry for several minutes, he began gingerly wrapping the gauze-coated bandages around them.

"Squall," she softly spoke. "Thank you. I'm sorry for… well, everything."

Now more than ever, her reckless meddling had truly irked him, and worse still, made him genuinely anxious; not even Selphie's close brush in Dollet, when she'd nearly been trampled by the rampaging spider-bot, had gotten him so worked up. Perhaps it was his sense of duty to protect his employer. Or perhaps it was simply that he didn't want to live with her death hanging on his conscience for the rest of his life. Whatever the reason, he couldn't bring himself to scold her; he was simply content to know she'd survived.

"It's fine," he brushed it aside. "What SeeD would leave his employer to die?"

"It's always business with you, isn't it?"

It's what keeps things cut-and-dry.

Emotional detachment and mental acuity went hand-in-hand in the field. He couldn't afford to let himself be swayed by his own personal biases, lest the entire plot come crumbling down around him, nor be caught up in his personal vendetta with Seifer. Provided he'd been brainwashed, he was no less a victim than the helpless masses in the streets.

Almost as pressing a dilemma was whether or not to tell Rinoa. Surely, she of all people deserved to know. Still, there were consequences to consider. She'd already nearly thrown her life away by charging headlong into the lion's den. Who knew what she would do were she to learn of her boyfriend's fate, and especially if Squall should be forced to cut him down? He deliberated for several more minutes. As he finished wrapping the bandages around her waist, he'd made up his mind. Whether or not it were the best choice, it was clearly the right one.

These wounds being so fresh, she probably won't be too fast on her feet anytime soon.

"Rinoa. When the gates opened and the parade started… up on the sorceress' float… standing by her was-"

"Seifer?"

"You know?"

"So, it's true," she mumbled, hanging her head in disappointment. "I didn't want to believe it, but… he's been brainwashed too, hasn't he? Does that mean… you're going to have to fight him?"

"I… hope not," Squall hummed. "It would make sense that if the sorceress dies, her mind control will be broken. In the end, it's all up to Irvine."

He turned his head back across the carousel. The sniper hadn't moved from his seated position. He sat slouched forward with the rifle leaning casually on his shoulder, his eyes hidden beneath his hat. Squall glanced at his wristwatch again: 19:58. His pulse quickened. The nervous energy drew him to his feet, and across to Irvine's side.

"Just a couple more minutes," he said, dropping to one knee. "This is it. Are you ready?"

No response. The sharpshooter moved not a muscle.

"Irvine? Are you listening? It's almost ti-"

Squall cut himself short. He'd ducked his head to peer under the cowboy hat's brim. Irvine's face was fraught with peril. His eyes, normally so brazen, now showed only panic. His mouth rapidly sucked in short, shallow breaths. This was not a man prepared to take the shot that would save the world.

Is he freaking out?!

"What's wrong?"

"I… I can't do it," he mewled. His voice trembled as he fought to eek each syllable out. "I-it's too much."

"What are you saying?!" Squall snapped; he only just managed to keep his voice hushed from Rinoa on the other side. "I thought you were the top of your Garden's sharpshooter division? Don't tell me you're getting performance anxiety!"

"It ain't that. It's jus'… I can't kill her. I mean, c'mon, don't ya have any idea what yer askin' me to do here?"

"Do you?!"

He could no longer contain his exasperation. With just a minute until the carousel rose, there was no time for discussion.

"She's overthrown the entire government, brainwashed half the city, and nearly killed Rinoa! What do you mean you can't kill her?! This couldn't be more simple!"

"So, you'd be able to take that kinda shot so easy?" Irvine muttered. "Without a second thought? No regrets?"

"In a heartbeat. And I will if you won't."

Stony silence fell between them. The disobedient sniper raised his head at last. Gone was his distress, replaced by what looked to be disgust.

"I always knew you were a selfish bastard," he growled.

His usual accent had completely fallen away, his enunciation now far more rigid.

"But I didn't want to believe you had it in you to be so heartless. And here I thought you might be the only sane one left."

"What the hell are you-"

The abrupt whirring drowned out Squall's confusion. The carousel beneath his feet began to rumble. He steadied himself as its neon lights roared to life. The jesters started to twirl on their fixed circular bases, sending Rinoa tumbling forward to to duck the nearest one's spinning leg. Before Squall could catch his breath, the platform jettisoned up. The jolt knocked him and Irvine onto their stomachs. The silo cover above had automatically parted, revealing the digital time display stretching up into the overcast sky. It read 20:00:11.

Squall raised himself as soon as the carousel came to a stop, and peered out over the Presidential Square from its apex. The sidewalks on either side remained packed with townspeople. Armored guards up and down the street kept them out of the road; it was impossible to tell whether they too had been hypnotized, or were sticking to their duty out of fear for their lives. Further in the distance, the Iguion Gate perpetually stood. The marching band and dancing troupe strode beneath, with the float trailing just behind.

"On your feet soldier!" he snapped to the downed sniper. "As your commanding officer, I am ordering you to take this shot!"

"I told you, I can't do it!" Irvine roared as he hoisted himself up. The rifle still hung by its sling around his shoulder. "Don't you have any idea who that is?!"

"She's evil!" he furiously spat. "That's what you wanted to know, wasn't it? If our enemy was really pure evil? What more proof do you need?!"

"And what happened to 'right and wrong aren't what separate us'?! You damn hypocrite!"

"So help me, when this is over, I'll…"

Enraged as he was, Squall struggled to think of a sufficient threat to coerce Irvine into action. His thoughts ground to a halt as a heavy metal clank sounded in the distance. The marching band's music cut off in time with it. He swiveled his head with Irvine to the archway; its front and rear gates were now lowered, trapping the float inside. Their element of surprise was slipping away by the second.

"Do it!" he commanded. "Or give the rifle to me! This is our one chance to make sure this ends tonight!"

"Sorry, but… I just can't-"

"Please, Irvine."

Rinoa had snuck up on them so quietly, Squall hadn't noticed. Despite her reassuring tone, her eyes remained plenty anxious.

"It's like I said before: we're all counting on you. There's already been too much suffering tonight, and it's only going to get worse if we sit by and do nothing. So, please… take the shot. For Squall… for me, the others, and everyone else down there. For the world's sake. There's no other way."

The sniper stood fast, his grip on the rifle's strap tighter than ever. Seconds continued to tick by. There was now little hope of the plot's success even should he manage to get a shot off; the sorceress would surely see it coming, and easily deflect the bullet. Squall's worst fears had become reality.

Just then, a brilliant flash of light erupted out of the corner of his eye. He turned back to the gateway in the distance as a sudden burst of lightning exploded from within. It split into four strains of ricocheting electrical energy as it was deflected, and impacted on the arched ceiling. A blast of ice spellcraft followed from the pavement beside the float; it shot upward, tearing through the throne's feathered backdrop.

"The others!" Squall realized. "They're attacking on their own!"

"Do you think they can win?" Rinoa asked hopefully. "I mean, they have to. They're all we have left now, right? I just… I hope they can take her down without having to fight… him."

He ignored her and turned back to the stunned sniper, shooting him the fiercest look he could manage.

"Listen to me. We've just been thrown a life-line. While she's distracted with them, now's your chance to redeem yourself. It'll be harder to get a clean shot, but… well, you're the one who let it get to this point. Don't let them throw their lives away for nothing."

Irvine grit his teeth in frustration. He took a knee, pulled the rifle from his shoulder, set the barrel on the edge of the carousel, and brought the scope up to his eye. In the distance, the magical bombardment had ceased. Several small figures scrambled aboard the float to face down the sorceress and her bodyguard. Squall couldn't have asked for a better diversion; every single pedestrian and guard lining the street had turned their attention to the gate. The narrow gaps between each bar would be the only obstacle now, provided their sniper could find the stomach to finally pull the trigger.

Squall plugged his ears with his fingers, anxiously waiting for the shot to come. His focus stayed fixed on the float. He could just barely identify Selphie's yellow attire from afar. Two others stood by her side across from Seifer. Squall counted the seconds as they passed. Ten, then twenty. And yet, even as Seifer moved into defense against Zell's incoming first strike, there came nothing. He glanced back to Irvine, who remained frozen to the spot with his eye pressed to the scope. He noticed the tremble in his supporting hand; the hesitation was still there.

"Sometime tonight!"

"Don't rush me, dammit!" Irvine snapped. "I just… need a little time."

"You've already had plenty!" Squall chided him. He reached out to grab the rifle's barrel. "Quit stalling! I'll do it myself if I have-"

He yanked the rifle hard from the side. The sniper jolted in place, fumbling to retain his clasp on the weapon. With a momentary slip of the finger, the long overdue gunshot erupted into the night.

"Well, don't I just feel special!" Seifer sneered as Quistis pulled herself up onto the float.

His smirk was more wicked and scornful than any she'd ever seen him wear. His fierce blue eyes swept across her, Zell, and Selphie in mocking; their opening salvo of spellcraft had done nothing to faze him. And yet, despite his delirium, his general mannerisms were no different. As opposed to the masses gathered on either side of the gate, Seifer seemed perfectly cognizant. Perhaps Edea hadn't deemed it necessary to give him the same level of influence.

The sorceress sat on her gilded throne to Seifer's rear, having handily deflected Selphie's initial lightning blast. Her face, at first surprised, now showed only irritation. She spoke not a word, content to leave the proceedings to her bodyguard.

"Did you come all this way just to see me?" he cackled with a swipe of his gunblade. "You really didn't have to go to so much trouble. We were planning to head back home for a friendly little visit, anyway!"

"You've hit a new low!" Zell growled. He pounded his fist into his palm. "I don't give a fuck if you've been brainwashed. By the time I'm done with you, that scar's gonna be the nicest looking part of your face!"

"Zell, calm down!" Quistis intervened. For a brief moment, she was their instructor once again, breaking up yet another heated scuffle. "Seifer, listen to me! You're not thinking straight. She's manipulating you, just like everyone else here. This isn't who you are, and you know it. Fight her control!"

Troublesome though he'd always been, she had no wish to strike Seifer down if she could avoid it. The blonde youth shifted his eyes to her. His lips curled into a twisted grin.

"Oh, Quisty. Still playing at caretaker to the bitter end. And now, it's more clear than ever what a pale imitation you are. You know nothing of me, or her for that matter. My mind is perfectly sound. It's you who've been twisted into Cid's army of obedient drones! You who've let yourself be molded into expendable pawns for the coming war! But not me. My eyes have been opened to the truth of what SeeD stands for, and it's finally brought me to my destiny! To my romantic dream! I've become the Sorceress' Knight!"

Quistis redirected her eyes to Edea behind him. The corners of her violet lips drew upward into a predatory smile. Whether or not Seifer was presently under her spell, he'd become her puppet all the same.

"Your dream?" Selphie meekly spoke up, her nunchaku held at the ready. "But I thought… what about Rinoa? What about her dreams? I thought you loved her! And now, because of the sorceress, she's-"

"Rinoa?" he snorted, his voice dripping with apathy. "Don't make me laugh. Sure, we had some fun times together, but she's served her purpose. The only woman I need in my life is right behind me. Good riddance."

"Now I'm pissed!" Zell roared.

In a flash, he was off. A set of earthen gauntlets materialized around his fists as he tore across the platform. Seifer raised his gunblade to parry the blow. The sword's reinforced metal frame held fast against the conjured stone. His feet skidded back as he fought against the momentum. A moment later, he released it. He fell into a quick dodge as the following left hook whipped past.

Selphie rushed in from the side, her nunchaku fluidly weaving through the air. He blocked each strike in lightning succession. Zell righted himself, and charged back into the fray. His next swipe met sheer air as Seifer ducked well ahead of the blow. With the fist drawing near Selphie as it passed over their enemy's head, she instinctively held her weapon out in both hands to protect herself. Not letting the opportunity pass, Seifer sliced upward. He pulled the trigger as the blade met the nunchaku's metal chain. Both halves severed from one another, the sudden loss of tension between her arms throwing her off balance.

A swift kick to the girl's legs followed. She toppled backwards onto the platform, both iron bars falling from her grasp. Quistis drew her whip as Seifer quickly rolled away. She glanced again to Edea; the sorceress remained seated on her throne, dispassionately observing the battle. That she hadn't seen fit to join in was the only thing they had going for them.

Quistis took her first step forward, and then stopped. A roar of thunder sounded in the distance. And then, an earsplitting howl of agony. Zell toppled over right in front of his opponent. His conjured gauntlets faded away as he fell on his side. He grasped for his right leg, still roaring unintelligibly in anguish. Just below where his knee-length jean shorts ended, blood spilled from a lone bullet wound.

"Zell!" Selphie screamed his name

She scrambled back to her feet. Without turning, Seifer trained his gunblade to her. She froze on the spot. To the float's rear, Edea brought her raised right hand up before her; a shimmering field of protective energy washed over her body. Quistis looked on in horror, unable to believe her eyes: Squall and Irvine had survived the brainwashing and moved into position to take the shot, only to have missed and wounded their own teammate. All hope was truly lost.

"Looks like your wings have been clipped, chicken-wuss," Seifer snarled as he looked down on Zell. "It's been nice knowing ya."

He raised his blade high for the killing blow. Acting purely on instinct, Quistis channeled her GF's energy as fast as she could. A barrage of hailstones shot from her palm. The flurry caught the would-be executioner off guard, forcing him to leap away toward his liege. Selphie sped over to Zell's side as soon as the coast was clear, and hauled him back to the fore of the float. Quistis stepped forward into the divide, placing herself squarely in the middle of the confrontation.

"You just don't know when to quit, do you?" Seifer grumbled. "You've lost. Just give up and come quietly. We do want at least one of you alive, so…"

He trailed off in mid-sentence. The look on his face shifted from irritable to confused within seconds as he gazed straight on by Quistis. A swirling hiss of energy reached her ears over Zell's heaving gasps. She craned her neck back slightly, keeping one eye on Seifer all the while. A pulsing white light gleamed on the edge of her periphery. Her curiosity piqued, she risked turning her head further to determine its origin.

What she saw beggared belief. Selphie knelt by Zell's side with her hand held over the gaping wound. The shimmering light shone forth from her palm. Under its focus, the stream of vital fluid spilling from his leg began to subside, as the bullet slowly pushed itself out from his flesh. Zell grit his teeth as it was ejected, and finally let out a gasp. The wound further sutured itself, the bloody tissue regenerating rapidly. Quistis was at a loss for words; she'd only seen the healing power of holy spellcraft used once before, in the presence of the commandant.

"My, my."

She spun herself back around at the callous, feminine voice. Edea had risen from her throne at last, the white drapery hanging from her golden back-piece swaying as she moved. Seifer stayed fixed to the spot in puzzlement. She strode forward to stand beside him.

"And here I thought I would need to hunt down every SeeD alive to find that sphere. But to have it so kindly delivered right into my hands… will tonight's wonders never cease?"

"But… it doesn't make sense," Seifer muttered. "She's not the one who's supposed to have it."

"Yet she does," the sorceress hissed. "There can only exist one such sphere. And now, with it in our possession, we have no further need for an invasion on the Garden. We shall instead proceed with a full-scale missile bombardment."

Quistis' eyes bulged in alarm. Though she understood nothing of the cryptic machinations at play, the mention of a missile strike was plenty clear to her. She would need to act quickly while the two were still engaged in their discussion. She closed her eyes in concentration, furrowing her brow as she willed the icy chill to manifest itself; it would take every ounce of strength she could pour into her summoned entity to overpower Edea.

"Understood," Seifer acceded. "And what about our other woman of interest? You're sure they won't be keeping her there?"

"It would be folly of Cid to do so," Edea sneered. "He's done everything he can to hide her whereabouts from me for all these years. They've never kept her in one place for long."

Quistis' energy continued to build all the while, threatening to break loose at any moment without her expert control. Suddenly, a rigid stiffness took hold of her legs. It broke her concentration as it moved up her thighs. She looked down to discover her entire lower half encased in stone. She could no longer move a single muscle in her legs. Her mouth hung open in horror as the entombment spread ever further. Within seconds it engulfed her torso, arms, and finally reached her neck.

"Fortune has favored us thus far this night," the witch continued. "Perhaps at least one of these insolent SeeDs will provide us the clue we seek."

The stone finally took her eyes, blotting out her vision. Seifer's muffled response was the last thing she heard before the world faded away completely.

"And on that… got a feeling… on his way… fun with him first…?"

The patrol car's engine roared as Squall floored the pedal. He sped out of the Presidential Residence's front gate, and down the main avenue. He blared the horn all the way; what soldiers lined the street were quick to move aside.

He'd left Irvine atop the carousel with but a single stern order: 'Get Rinoa out of here'. With no time to dawdle, he'd leapt over the edge to the podium, and then down into the inner courtyard. He'd landed on the pavement with a far rougher impact than expected. The flotation buffer had barely cushioned him at all; he'd already expended too much of his GF's energy. In the commotion amid the paramedic detachment all around, he'd managed to secure an idle vehicle with the keys still left in the ignition.

This is it…

At nearly 80 miles-per-hour, it was seconds before he reached the archway. Squall slammed the brakes, pulling hard on the wheel. The tires screeched as he drifted sideways and came to a rest beside the gate. The carriage jerked from the sudden deceleration. His seatbelt was all that kept him from hurtling out of the driver's seat. He unlatched it, and threw open the door. Not wasting a moment, he circled the hood to the iron bars. He unsheathed his gunblade, and slashed it across; with a pull of the trigger, the stainless steel cut through with ease.

He darted through the opening to reach the parade float, sheathed his weapon, and climbed atop the motorized cockpit at the front. The pilot inside paid him no mind as he trampled on the glass ceiling, being either still under Edea's control, or having numbly accepted his fate. Squall grabbed hold of the carpet hanging down from the platform with his right hand. He reached up with his left to clamber aboard, when it was caught in mid-air. He looked up. A pair of blue eyes divided by a familiar scar stared right back at him.

"Please, allow me."

Seifer viciously heaved him up onto the float. He toppled onto the platform face-first, grunting through gritted teeth. He pushed himself to his knees as his rival paced back to stand opposite him. As he raised his head to look around, his breath caught in his throat. Life-sized stone effigies of the gateway team stood among them; a stunned Quistis to one side, a horrified Selphie kneeling over a gasping Zell to the other. The three appeared as if forged by a master craftsman, so detailed were their expressions and attire. And yet, these were no mere statues. He glared ahead toward their wicked sculptor, seated on her throne with both arms crossed.

"Do you like the decorations?" Seifer called to him from her side. "Don't worry, you'll be joining them shortly. Just as soon as I've had my fill of you."

"Snap out of it, Seifer!" Squall roared, pulling himself to his feet. "She's brainwashed you! You have to fight her control! Don't make me have to cut you down!"

"You, cut me down?" he laughed with a swipe of his gunblade. "And since when have you ever been able to beat me in a fair fight? I don't know what's funnier, that you think you can win, or that you have the nerve to call me the brainwashed one!"

He thrust his free hand into his jacket. It returned with his GF clasped within its fingers.

"You're the one who's allowed that rat, Cid, to brainwash you. I always knew there was something rotten about SeeD. Training us to use these damned things, building up an army of impressionable children programmed to obey blindly, and did you ever stop to question why? What the endgame of it all is? I'll tell you. It's all because of her!"

He slammed the sphere down on the throne's arm rest, and stepped forward, Edea not batting an eye.

"He fears her power, because he knows he can't control her. And so, for the past 12 years, he's been building up an army of naive kids like us, for the sole purpose of hunting her down. That's what we've been raised and trained for all these years! To be obedient little cogs in his war machine! But I won't let him get away with it. She's done more for me than that old codger ever has, and I'll strike down anyone who tries to lay a finger on her. And that includes you!"

Squall stood dumbfounded, struggling to wrap his head around Seifer's thought process. If the headmaster had deemed this woman a threat, as she'd so clearly demonstrated herself to be, what issue was there with organizing a military organization to combat her? Further, the idea that he'd intended them to become mindless drones ran counter to the very lecture he'd given Seifer following the field exam. He had to have been brainwashed. Nothing else made the slightest bit of sense.

"If that's the way you want it," he growled, drawing his own gunblade. "No mercy. Just the way you like it."

"You know me too well… oh, what am I saying? You don't know a thing anymore!"

Seifer charged forward with his weapon drawn back. Squall read it as an incoming thrust; he parried with his own blade as the tip drew near, swatting it away. He transitioned into a sideswipe, which his rival was quick to block. The two slabs of steel ground together as each strained to overpower the other. Seifer finally released and aimed low for a slice to the legs. Squall spun his blade in a half-circle. He batted the strike away, following through with an upward slash. Seifer disengaged, leaping backward. Hoping to keep the pressure piled on, he flipped the gunblade back around and rushed forward.

Intent on drawing the battle to a close as quickly as possible, Squall sliced downward again, and pulled the trigger. He was met with an equally ferocious counter slash. The two blades thundered together, and just as violently parted with tremendous recoil; the force sent him tumbling backwards, fighting to maintain his footing on the carpet. Seifer seemed to fare no better. And yet, as opposed to Squall's befuddlement, his rival's face betrayed only amusement.

"Did you really think I'd let you slice mine in half?" Seifer smirked. "Come on, Squall. How many times have we fought? I can read your motions like a book by now. You always tense up when you're about to pull the trigger, and brace for the recoil. Makes it easy to counter."

Squall stood motionless, unable to muster a response. It unnerved him to know he'd so blatantly telegraphed his strike without realizing, to where Seifer could casually block it with a pull of his own trigger.

"Word of advice: Don't try it again. I'm having a real good time right now, so don't push your luck."

There was no need for a warning. Squall recognized the futility; his revolver's chamber only had three rounds left, as opposed to however many each of Seifer's magazines held. The math clearly did not rule in his favor. With no other recourse but a standard swordfight, he hefted his gunblade back up, and charged in.

The two furiously exchanged blows for well over three minutes. Their weapons' raucous metal clanging rang out under the archway, just as it had two weeks ago on the Alcaud Plains. Only now, this was no longer a matter of rivalry, but a life-or-death battle between two swordsmen, with the fate of the world carried on each of their blades. Never in their most heated sparring sessions had Squall pushed himself so hard. He could not and would not back down, even knowing a victory against his rival would be literally only half the battle.

"Alright, I think that's enough for now."

Seifer stepped aside as Squall brought his gunblade thundering down. It seemed to drop of its own volition, embedding itself into the carpet where he'd just been standing. His eyes went wide; he'd certainly not put so much force into the strike. A swift uppercut connected with his jaw. His fingers loosed themselves from the grip as he tumbled backwards. He lost his footing, and fell onto his back at the fore of the float. The tip of the gunblade stayed stuck into the platform, leaving him defenseless as Seifer bore down on him.

He scrambled to raise himself, only to be forced down yet again. A mysterious weight kept him pinned to the platform; he could barely raise a finger, much less sit up. He turned his eyes to Seifer, looming over him with his hand outstretched. A dark mist emanated from its clutches. Squall's pounding heart skipped a beat at the revelation. He knew he hadn't misjudged his strength; the gunblade had been forced down by the same gravitational strain which now held him in place. It made no sense to him why Seifer had so casually broken his vow again, or how he, who possessed a fire elemental GF like his own, could utilize gravity spellcraft to such effect. Moreover, he had very clearly left his sphere with Edea before the fight. How could he have possibly conjured the spell to begin with?

"Surprised?" his rival scoffed. "It's like I said: she's done more for me than Cid ever has."

"What happened to… not relying on charity?" Squall eked out through his clenched jaw. "Fighting your battles… like a 'real man'?"

"Yeah, I used to think that. But I've come to realize, if there's one thing more important to me than self-reliance, it's loyalty. Not blind obedience, but genuine devotion, to someone worthy of it. You and your mercenary ilk have none, much less that sniveling old man you fight for. And so, if it helps me to deal with an ungrateful traitor like you, I'll gladly make use of this power given to me. Power that easily dwarfs yours."

"You son of a-"

"Hush now. I could easily kill you, you know. Be grateful that as it stands, you're worth much more alive. But before I pass you off to her, I think a bit of poetic justice is in order. Here, let me add another scar for you. I promise it'll only hurt for a second!"

"Stop!"

The voice cried out just as Seifer prepared to swing his blade high. His vision trailed up and over Squall.

"Rinoa?" the blonde spoke. "So, you came out to see me, too? I'm flattered."

Please don't tell me she could be this stupid!

"Don't you have any idea what you're doing?!" she shrieked. "Who you're fighting for?! Snap out of it! She tried to kill me! Look at these wounds!"

"She did?"

Seifer's tone seemed to carry a hint of curiosity rather than surprise. He craned his neck back to Edea.

"Please, don't do anything to this one. We can lock her up with the rest, but she's got nothing to do with this plot."

"What… what are you saying?!" Rinoa cried, sounding as though she were on the verge of breaking down. "You can't be serious! What's she done to you?!"

"Oh, I'm deadly serious, sweetie. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I've got new priorities now… and old ones. And once I'm finished with this mewling wolf, I'll be right with you."

He raised his gunblade high against the archway's curved ceiling. Thunder boomed in the distance as the weapon reached its apex, heralding Squall's defeat. He closed his eyes tightly, recalling the unbearable pain he'd suffered before. A bloodcurdling cry erupted. Several adrenaline-charged moments passed before he realized it hadn't been his own. The slice had not come.

A metal clanging followed. The sound forced his eyes open. He raised his head, only then realizing the gravity spell had been broken. Seifer clutched at his right arm in anguish, his gunblade having fallen to the carpet below. A wide splotch of crimson spread from his forearm. A gaping bullet wound formed its epicenter.

Irvine!

The sharpshooter had saved him. Seifer backed away, howling in torture, and fell to one knee.

"Squall!" Rinoa called his name. A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders from behind. "Are you okay? Can you stand?"

And to think, I was just asking you that earlier.

"I'm alright," he grunted.

He rose to his feet with her assistance, looked her in the eyes, and prepared to give her yet another reprimand, when he stopped. Her expression was understandably anxious, but also tinged with genuine relief. He couldn't bring himself to take what little hope she had found away.

"Thank you," he said instead. "Are you okay? Those wounds… you shouldn't be moving this much."

"I'm fine," she assured him. "I can fight if I'm with you. That's why I'm here."

"You stupid little boy."

Squall turned to face the menacing hiss. Edea had risen from her throne, and made her way over to Seifer's side. Seemingly too disgusted to even look at him, her eerie yellow eyes were instead locked to the two of them.

"I allow you your vain pursuit of glory, only for you to make such a fool of yourself?! Pathetic. Must I do everything myself?"

Her gleaming stare positively fiendish, she raised her left hand into the air above. Gleaming energy gathered in a swirl of brilliant light, reflected off her golden back-piece. In a flash, a half-dozen razor-sharp icicles hovered aloft. Each was easily the length of Squall's gunblade still stuck into the platform.

"You have caused me displeasure this night," she scathed. "For such insolence, I will have blood."

With a forward flick of the wrist, the icicles shot forth at top speed. Squall shoved Rinoa aside; she tumbled down out of the projectiles' trajectory. His right shoulder exploded with pain the next second. The impact knocked every breath of wind out of his lungs. Time slowed to a crawl, his bodily senses going numb from the overwhelming agony. He craned his eyes down, already hazy and disoriented, to see a jagged ice spike impaled through him.

A shriek sounded from nearby, but a murmur against the raging storm of his mind. He stumbled backwards, his legs on the verge of giving out at any moment. And then he fell, toppling from the float. He careened towards the pavement for what felt like minutes; all of time and space ground to a halt. His glazed vision stayed fixed on Rinoa, staring down at him in dismay.

In the midst of it all, he was reminded of another such fall he'd taken. One from a rocky cliff-side to the crashing waters below, as a man who'd given his life to secure an escape for his comrades, and for even the faintest hope of a brighter future for himself. Squall's comrades stood imprisoned in stone up on the platform, his employer left defenseless, and the world at the mercy of a wicked sorceress. As his vision faded away into darkness, one last lingering thought guided him into the abyss.

What… did I just die for?

Chapter Text

The light from Balamb Garden's floating halo vied to shine through the bay windows. The curtains were drawn shut, leaving the room with only a sliver of light peeking in. Not a single lamp nor candle was lit. From the plush king-sized bed, to the mahogany desk stacked from end to end with paperwork, the office's every amenity lay smothered in darkness. It had not always been so. The TV monitor fixed to the wall had broken through merely an hour earlier, only to show a far more terrible darkness descend upon Deling City. The day long since dreaded had arrived.

Heamaster Cid Kramer poured himself another shot of whiskey, courtesy of his quarters' personal liquor cabinet. He placed the bottle back on the desk where there was room, and swiveled his chair around to face the curtains. For the last hour, he'd mired in the drink's comfort; little else could nurse his weary heart. He casually slid the drapery aside as he took another sip. The moonlit Alcaud Plains stretched onward to the southern shore beyond. Meanwhile, far to the west, a great evil had stirred.

The camera feed had been shut down with Vinzer Deling's brutal execution, leaving him no other means by which to monitor the operation. Perhaps it were even a blessing in disguise. Signing off on the mission four nights earlier had been trying enough; he could never stomach to watch the events unfold as they happened. He'd been strong-armed into compliance, as was so often the norm. How powerless he must have appeared to Xu each time; as the acting commandant, she was the only member of SeeD privy to such affairs.

That he'd managed to negotiate which of Galbadia Garden's marksmen to employ was his only solace. His ranking notwithstanding, there could be no one else but Irvine assigned to this mission. He undoubtedly possessed the skill, and perhaps would be a better man than Cid himself to make the right call. The choice was clear, if not easy. A global superpower had just been usurped by a sorceress; history was repeating itself.

All that remained now was one concern, one unforeseen development that left him utterly perplexed: why had Rinoa been standing by Edea's side? Why was she in Deling City at all, when she ought to have been in Timber under the protection of Squall and his team?

Surely, they couldn't have somehow gotten involved in-

A frantic rapping at the door tore him from his worries, and nearly caused him to spill his whiskey down his burgundy suit-vest. He set the glass beside the bottle, and rose from his desk chair. His heart pounded as he approached; a summons at this late hour could not possibly bode well. Had the result of the operation been determined? And if so, what repercussions would they be forced to bear? His worries came to a head as he twisted the doorknob. As expected, a familiar robed aide stood on the other side, a troublesome Thorn in his side, sprouted from the root of all evil sown deep into the Garden's very foundations.

"The Garden Master demands your presence. Now."

END OF VOLUME I

Chapter Text

"Uncle Laguna! Wake up, sleepyhead!"

Laguna shot up with a gasp. He fought to get his breathing under control as his familiar bearings came into focus. Sunlight peeked through the curtained windows, creeping across the wooden floor. A cedar chest sat at the foot of his queen-sized bed, his casual-wear from the day before left resting atop. The clothing cupboard stood against the left-hand wall, nestled between the door, and a small vanity table he'd never made use of.

A giggling little girl stared up at him from the bedside. She wore a blue button-up dress today, her devilishly cute face framed by shoulder-length brown hair.

"Ellie," he sighed, placing a hand to his racing heart. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Sowwy," the mischievous little scamp snickered. "But there's someone here to see yoo!"

His head perked back up. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

"To see me? What for?"

"I dunno," she ambled with her hands behind her back. "He was wearin' funny clothes. He's tawking to Raine right now."

"Over at the pub?" he asked. He threw off the covers, and maneuvered his legs out of bed.

"Yup! That's why I came to get yoo! Am I a good girl?"

"No, you're not!" he scolded her. "It's dangerous out there! What if a monster comes and attacks you? They'll catch you and suck all your blood out! And then Uncle Laguna's gonna cry."

"It's only next door," she pouted. "And if anything bad happens, I'll jus' call yoo, Uncle Laguna. Yoo'll come rescue me, right?"

"It's still dangerous, and… hey! Ellone, wait!"

The girl had already darted out the door and down the stairs. He let out a deep sigh. And yet, in spite of himself, he couldn't keep a smile from his face. It was exactly that boundless energy which had endeared her to him in the first place. He couldn't possibly stay upset with her over a little bit of recklessness.

As if I'm the guy to be giving lectures about that…

He stood up from the bed. Clad in only his boxers and white undershirt, he crossed over to the chest, and donned his casual-wear: a pair of brown pants, fingerless black gloves, and a short-sleeved, blue denim jacket left hanging open. With his clothing secured, he finally popped open the chest's lid. His assault rifle rested inside, along with his remaining ammunition cartridges. Altogether, the chest's contents were the only remaining evidence of his service in the Galbadian army; he'd long abandoned his uniform and dog tags on the shore to the south, to be consumed with the tide along with any trace of his existence. There was no one else outside the village who could know of him, much less track him down to such a remote region. Or so he'd thought.

[… am I dead?]

The feeling's back. That can't be a good sign…

He snatched up the rifle, slung it over his shoulder, and shut the lid before filing out of the room. He descended the staircase to the homey, single-room first floor. A wooden table with three chairs sat in the center, left barren of any tablecloth. Cupboards and bureaus lined the walls of the small kitchen space ahead. The fireplace took up most of the opposite side, still yet to be cleared of the charred kindling left from last winter.

Whatever cozy ambiance the home might have provided was shattered each and every time he reached the bottom of the steps. He turned his eyes to the stair-side partition leading up. Dozens of bullet holes peppered the faded, peeling dry-wall. They were not his own, nor was the house for that matter. Both were a daily reminder of what he now held dear, and all he had to lose. He trudged across to the front door, swung it open, and raised his hand to shield his eyes.

The morning sun shone brilliantly across the cobbled central square of Winhill, the sleepy old-world village he now called home. Situated far to the southwest, nestled amid acre upon acre of verdant rolling bluffs, its contrast to Deling City's urban sprawl was immense. Gorgeous flower arrangements decorated the quaint brick houses all around. Ahead, a bridge over a narrow waterway led to a winding dirt road; yet more picturesque homes and establishments lined either side as it trailed into the distance.

The square proper was largely devoid of townsfolk at this time of day. Such was the norm since the native wildlife had begun moving in. He crossed over to the pub just next door to his house, reached for the door handle as he stepped under the awning, and pushed it open.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to go out on your own?!"

The scolding voice cut through the tavern as he stepped inside. Its owner stood amid the circular bar-room tables spread about, her hands on her hips as she stared down disapprovingly at Ellone. She wore a white turtle-neck sweater with blue jeans. A yellow headband crested over top her flowing, dark brown hair. However stern her face looked now, as he'd seen it many times, her delicate features and light blue eyes had given him comfort so many more. It was she who had selflessly stepped up to nurse him back to health, just as she'd taken in Ellone well before his arrival.

"But Raine!" the girl whined. "It's only next door!"

"It doesn't matter. You promised me you wouldn't do it. Now, go to your room."

Raine pointed to the staircase in the back left corner, opposite the bar. Ellone's head sunk in defeat. She looked back to Laguna with a glum face.

"I got in twouble."

"Dat's 'cause you bwoke your pwomise," he playfully lisped back.

"Laguna, speak properly to Ellone!" Raine snapped at him. Her eyes bulged as she noticed the machine gun. "And how many times have I told you not to carry that thing when she's around?!"

"Looks like I got in twouble, too," he slumped over. The carefree, innocent smile returned to the girl's face with a giggle.

"Now, there's a voice I never expected to hear again."

[Make that two.]

Laguna raised his head, directing his stare past Raine to the bar. A tall, slender figure was seated at its end. He wore a form-fitting red and black jumpsuit with bronze body armor. His attire aside, it was the three beaded dreadlocks trailing down his back which instantly caught Laguna's attention. A knowing grin flashed across his face as their eyes met.

"It's been a long time, Laguna," he greeted him, setting his glass of red wine down on the bar.

"Kiros!"

He sped across the room, blowing by Raine before she could open her mouth. His friend rose to meet him, his eyes widening in alarm as Laguna tackled him into a bear hug. Kiros stood limply in his arms before finally reciprocating.

"Well, good to see you haven't changed a bit," he scoffed as they parted. "I was having a chat with Raine before you showed up. Sounds like you've settled in here nicely."

"You could say that," Laguna replied, noticing Ellone had trailed over to his side in the meantime. "Ellie, this is Uncle Laguna's friend, Kiros. He dresses kinda funny, but he's not a bad guy. Say 'hi'."

"Hewoo," she mumbled.

"Nice to meet you," Kiros introduced himself. He bent down to her level to shake her hand. "So, this here's your 'uncle', huh?"

"Indeed," Raine said. "And our resident comedian, to boot."

"Now, that doesn't surprise me one bit," he snorted, turning back to Laguna. "Gotta say, life's been pretty boring without you for entertainment."

"Hey, it's the first time you've seen me in, what, a year now? And that's how you're gonna treat me? I've been living a real productive life here, you know!"

"So I've heard. Word's been going around the other little towns in these parts, about the 'Monster Hunter of Winhill'. That's what brought me out here. Had to see if it might be a certain someone I used to know."

"I'll just leave you two to catch up," Raine smiled. "Ellone, I changed my mind. You can come help me with the laundry instead."

"Okay."

The two girls trailed away to the stairs. Laguna watched them ascend, and soon clear the banister to the second landing. The moment they were out of sight, he turned his attention back to Kiros.

"So, for real," he began, much more seriously. "You're… not here to drag me away for desertion, right?"

"Of course not!" his friend replied incredulously. He picked up his glass for another swig. "Relax, I'm not with the army anymore, either."

"Oh, good!" Laguna finally exhaled. He hoisted the assault rifle up and over his head, placing it on the bar. "When Ellone said there was someone looking for me, I got a little freaked out."

"Understandable. But no one else around here has reported you? That thing's clearly military issue, so they've got to have a hunch. And how did you end up all the way out here, anyway? I was sure you'd bit the big one back in Centra."

"Yeah, I kinda thought I was done for myself. I'm still a little shocked I made it out. I fought 'em all the way to that huge crystal, but got thrown off the cliff by a group of their android soldiers. I'm pretty sure my life flashed before my eyes."

"But you lived," Kiros said matter-of-factly. He set his glass down again, keeping his stare fixed to Laguna.

"By some miracle. Hurt like hell, though. It felt like every bone in my body was in pieces. Everything after that's a little fuzzy. I think the adrenaline is what pushed me to swim my way to safety. I managed to get aboard one of their ships, and just started north out of the crater. I didn't even care where I was heading, as long as I eventually hit land. I think it was five days before I ran ashore a ways south of here. I left my armor on the beach, and just started walking. My rations were all gone. The canteen was dry. I'm just lucky I found a freshwater spring, or I might've wasted away out there.

"After that, I managed to hunt myself some food. It wasn't long before the pain came roaring back, though. After a couple more days, I just couldn't do it anymore. I collapsed out in the fields around here. One of the local farmers found me and hauled me back to town. They set me up in the vacant house next door. Raine took it upon herself to help nurse me back to health. I was bed-ridden for a good few months."

"Damn," Kiros finally spoke. "And is that why you've started doing this 'Monster Hunter' thing? To return the favor?"

"You guessed it. It's the least I can do. Especially since all the young working men went off to enlist before I even showed up."

"All of them? In a little town like this? That's unusual."

"You'd think so… but that's a whole 'nother story. What about you? What've you been up to all this time?"

"Mostly traveling. Trying my hand at a few odd jobs here and there, whatever I can find. Stable employment's hard to come by these days. At least Ward's got something on that end."

"Oh, shit!"

Laguna grabbed hold of the bar to keep himself from toppling over. The ghastly picture of his comrade's bloodied gullet flashed in his mind, just as it had in his nightmares for months after the incident.

"He's alive?!"

"I'm surprised you didn't ask that sooner," Kiros frowned.

"Well, I figured since you didn't say anything that he'd… I dunno, I just didn't want to go there. But that's great! What's he doing these days?"

"Well, I patched him up as best I could. We rushed him back to base as soon as evac arrived. The surgeons managed to stitch up the wound, but… well, the damage to his larynx was beyond repair. He's completely mute now."

"You've gotta be kidding!" Laguna roared. "He can't talk at all?! That's just… man, that's gotta suck, especially with his sense of humor."

"Yeah, he got served an honorable discharge as soon as he was back on his feet, and fell into a deep depression. He's got a job working as a janitor at the D-District Prison. With his voice shot, it's about all he can really do now. It's the saddest thing. I've been out to see him a few times, and I'm getting pretty good at reading his facial expressions. Seemed like he was finally starting to come around last time."

"Well, that's good to hear," Laguna muttered. "Still… hard to imagine him mopping floors all day. Talk about a wild career change."

"If you think that's crazy, then clearly you haven't heard what Julia's been up to, either."

"What?!" his head shot up in surprise. "What's she been doing?"

"I guess you haven't turned on the radio lately," Kiros smiled slyly. "She's hit the big time. Julia Heartilly, Galbadia's newest singing sensation."

"Get out!" he gasped. "She made it?! That's fantastic! She told me all about how her dream was to was to become a singer one day!"

"Well, wish granted. She's got this one song that's getting played everywhere. You can't walk down the street back in the city without hearing it."

Laguna smiled. It elated him to learn she'd accomplished so much in such a short time. Though his own dream had fallen by the wayside, he'd since found a place of his own with his newfound family unit. So long as he could wake each morning to find Ellone's beaming face waiting for him next door, little else mattered.

"She's getting married in a couple months," Kiros snapped him out of his daydreaming. "To the colonel, of all people."

"Caraway?! How the hell does that work?!"

"Your guess is as good as mine. The world's a crazy place sometimes."

[Hold on…]

"Sometimes?" Laguna snorted, ignoring the persistent sensation. "But, if that's where her heart truly lies. As long as she's happy, that's all that matters."

"Is it?" Kiros shot him a skeptical look. "Of every reaction I was expecting to get out of you, that wasn't on my list."

"Well, I'm not the same guy I was back then. Settling in here's given me the fresh start I've needed for years. I've got new priorities now. A whole new lease on life."

"And a whole new someone to fawn over?"

Kiros' eyes were trained to the stairs.

"Why do you always gotta bust my balls?" Laguna shot back. "If you wanna see for yourself, why don't we head out and do some hunting right now?"

"You know I'm just yanking your chain like the good old days, right?" he smirked. He downed the last of his wine and set the empty glass on the bar. "But sure, I could use a bit of exercise. It's been a while since I've put my katars to any serious use."

"Great! Just let me run up and tell Raine."

Laguna turned away from the bar and crossed to the staircase. As he climbed upward, a conversation came into earshot. He instinctively slowed, muffling his footsteps. He trained his ears as his eyes cleared the boundary between ceiling and floor.

As with his own house, the tavern's upper level consisted of one large multi-purpose room. A pair of beds, one large and one small, rested against the northern side of the house, separated by a nightstand and a window overlooking spacious green fields. A clothing cupboard and vanity dresser stood along the eastern wall. The center gave way to a pair of lounge seats and a cushioned couch set around a coffee table. There the two sat, surrounded by various folded articles of clothing.

"Raine," the 4 year-old mewled. "Aren't yoo gonna marry Uncle Laguna?"

"A guy like that?" she scoffed, her tone so biting and sharp as to pierce through Laguna's chest and wrest his heart. "How could I? He was carried in here crying like a baby, and I was the one stupid enough to step up and take care of him. I can't stand how crude he is, and how every time I try to have a serious conversation, he just avoids it!"

"But he's really nice!" Ellone insisted. "I really, really like him! Raine, Uncle Laguna, and Ellie should all be together!"

"Oh, Ellone, I just don't think it could work. He says he wants to be there for us, and I think he means it. But I feel like… like he doesn't have it in him to stay in a quiet little country town like this. I think what he really wants to do is travel all over the world. Some people are just like that. Always looking for adventure, never wanting to be tied down to one place or person… oh, it makes me so mad!"

"Yoo don't like him?"

[Why am I being forced to listen to all of this?]

The question hung in the air for an uncomfortably long time. Laguna stood frozen in place on the stairs. Painful as they were for him to hear, Raine's concerns were not unfounded. His long road to recovery had put his plans on hold, as had his sense of honor to repay her and the rest of the town. And yet, could he ever truly find personal fulfillment at the cost of his only abiding dream?

"I do," Raine finally answered, her voice shaky. "I feel the same way as you, Ellone. I really do. I wish it were that simple… but it's not…"

He carefully backed down the stairs into the tavern proper, taking great pains to stay silent. Kiros had already left through the front door. After a few moments, he began stomping on the bottom step repeatedly before finally resuming his ascent. He strolled up at a leisurely pace. Raine quickly righted her slouched posture as he rose onto the second floor landing.

"Is everything alright?" she asked. Her voice had yet to completely shake off the warble.

"Yes, Commander!" he suddenly snapped into a salute with a grin. "Permission requested to take new recruit Kiros out on monster patrol!"

"Yay!" Ellone cheered. She jumped up on the couch, pumping her fist. "Go get 'em, Uncle Laguna!"

"Thank you, Assistant Commander Ellone!" he smiled.

"Permission granted," Raine played along. "Just be back by noon for lunch."

"Yes, ma'am!"

He released the salute, and turned to make his way back downstairs.

"And Laguna?"

He turned his head back to her. She held her hands clasped in front, her eyes staring directly into his.

"Please… be careful out there."

"Of course."

He gave them both a parting wave before continuing down the steps. His heart pounded all the while. He willed his nerves to calm themselves as he crossed back over to the bar to retrieve his rifle. He slung it back over his shoulder, made his way to the front door, and threw it open. Kiros waited just outside. He'd drawn both his katars, precariously twirling the weapons by their handles.

"We all set?" he asked. He promptly ceased his showboating, and sheathed the blades on his thighs.

"Yeah," Laguna said, shutting the door behind him. "Come on, let's roll out. I'll show you my usual patrol route."

He gestured along the main road leading over the bridge and out of town. The route usually took him anywhere from one-and-a-half to two hours, depending on how many monsters he encountered.

"Sounds good. Oh, and there's one more thing I wanted to tell you, Laguna. You've heard of Timber Maniacs, right?"

The very mention of Timber unsettled him; the billowing inferno still remained imprinted in his memory.

"The magazine company? Sure. They're still in business? Even after the invasion?"

"Yeah, I've been back in the last couple of months. There's been a big rebuilding effort going on. Everything's under martial law, of course. Anyway, you were looking to become a travel journalist, right? I met with the chief editor, and he said he'd be interested in any kind of freelance article related to world travel. I get that you've got different priorities now, but… well, if that's still something you really want to do, maybe you should go meet with him one of these days. You could pitch him a few stories of the places you've already been to. Who knows? It could end up being your big break."

"Could be," Laguna muttered as they came to the bridge. He stopped before setting foot on the first wooden panel. "Well… say, I went through with that… do you think I'd be able to stay local for the time being?"

"Maybe," Kiros frowned. "But that would kinda defeat the purpose of being a travel journalist, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah… I guess."

"Laguna… what's going on? Seriously, this isn't like you. What's going through your head?"

He hesitated, not meeting his friend's eyes. He instead peered over the railing to the tranquil river below; it snaked along the canal bound west for the ocean. A light breeze whipped across the bridge, causing his hair to sway. He remained standing there, paralyzed, as the world moved on all around. He could hear adventure calling to him from far down the winding trail ahead. But could he bring himself to follow?

"It's just… like I was saying before, all the young men went off to enlist a couple years back. But the reason for it… do you remember Esthar's first naval strike up north, off the Rhem Archipelago?"

"Of course," Kiros affirmed. "I was sent in with the reinforcement battalion to assist the coast guard. We intercepted their troop transports, and blew them all out of the water."

"Well, what you probably don't know is they sent a smaller detachment down here around that same time. They marched right in, and demanded every family in the village hand over their daughters."

"What?!" Kiros spluttered. His face contorted in shock. "Why? And why in a little town in the middle of nowhere like this?"

"Well, the theory is that Adel was looking for someone to take under her wing. As for why here, probably because it's so far out of the way. Close enough to home to make a clean getaway, and far enough from the capital to not have to worry about any kind of skirmish."

"But the townspeople had to have fought back against something like that!"

"Ellone's parents did. And they…"

The bullet holes ingrained into the wall resurfaced in his mind. With each morning, he would descend the stairs to stand in their presence, and be reminded of the tragedy that had taken place in that very room only a year before his arrival. Ellone's mother and father had the foresight to hide their baby with Raine, and were made to face the consequences for refusing to hand her over. She'd been too little to possibly remember, and he too empathetic to forget Raine's retelling.

"I… I'm sorry," Kiros stuttered. "That's terrible."

"And that's why I don't know if I can bring myself to leave," Laguna finally admitted. "She needs me… and I need her. I get scared sometimes. Scared of not waking up in that house. Scared of not seeing Ellone."

"Scared of not seeing Raine?"

He gripped the bridge's railing, and shut his eyes.

"I just don't know what's happened to me."

[I'd like to know that myself…]

"Laguna… I was wrong. You have changed…"

Chapter Text

Squall awoke to the now all-too-familiar pounding in his head. His eyes creaked open to a single fluorescent light shining down on him. He lay on a cold, hard slab of metal, devoid of any sheets. Laguna's mattress had been so much more comfortable. Against all odds, the bumbling soldier had survived the fall. Suddenly, he remembered his own fall, and his last abiding memories from just before: the duel with Seifer atop the parade float; his standoff with Sorceress Edea; the excruciating pain as he'd been impaled by the icicle; and Rinoa's horrified face peering down as he'd fell.

He abruptly sat up. Fighting against the dizziness, he thrust his black-gloved hand into the right side of his jacket. His fingers reappeared through a gaping hole in the leather. A tear of equal dimensions was torn through his white undershirt. There was no gash, nor any indication of a puncture through his exposed skin. He frantically reached behind his back with his other hand, quickly locating the spot where the ice spike had exited. Once again, a tear in his clothing, and nothing else. Not even the tell-tale sting of a wound on the mend.

Thoroughly bewildered, he brought his hand back around to touch his face. His fingers brushed across the scar between his eyes; he was indeed back in his own body. Satisfied, he finally took a look around at his surroundings: a steel-plated cell in the shape of a hexagonal prism turned on its side. There was no furniture save for the slab that was his bed, and the toilet in the corner. A sealed hatch with a view-port was set into the opposite wall. Pitch darkness awaited beyond, the bulb above his only light.

He zipped up his jacket against the cell's frigid temperature. Besides his gunblade, belts, watch, wallet, supply pouch, and Guardian Force sphere, his lion pendant and matching ring were likewise missing. Both could be chalked up to standard procedure to prevent suicide by asphyxiation. All the same, he still had no idea where he was, nor how he could possibly be alive. He recalled having awoken in Galbadia Garden's infirmary following Laguna's plummet from the cliff-side, left to wonder if he'd passed from the living world and into the afterlife. Now, trapped within the cell's freezing confines, he began to consider as much again; that there was no wound seemed to give the possibility credence.

No, you're letting the fear get to you! Pull yourself together! There's got to be an explanation for all this…

As he mired in his anxious thoughts, a sudden jolt shook the walls around him. He yelped as he tumbled forward and off the bed. He outstretched both hands to break his fall, landing on his palms and knees. The room jerked again before he could raise himself. A mechanical whirring started up as it began to move horizontally. He fought to steady himself, staying hunched over on all fours. Soon, the cell started upward. He craned his neck up to the view-port; a rapid swirl of plating flashed on by through the glass.

The ascent continued for nearly half a minute, until gradually the containment unit slowed. It came to a rest with another hefty jolt. Squall heaved himself up from the floor, dizzily returning to his feet. The cell's hatch hissed open to his side. He floundered about as the room continued to spin around him, when a hand firmly clamped down on his shoulder from behind, halting him in place. A snide voice then menaced into his ear, just as it had the morning of the field exam.

"Squall, you're pitiful."

No sooner had the taunt registered, he was flung back across the width of the holding cell. His head collided sharply with the edge of the bed. He saw stars. He felt blood begin to spill forth from his aching temple as he collapsed.

"Take him to the torture chamber!" the voice commanded again.

Two streaks of orange were all he could make out before his eyes gave way. His mind faded into the abyss once again, a strange licking sensation on the bloodied side of his face his only comfort; its repetitiveness lulled him into the black.

"What was that?" Selphie asked.

Zell wondered the same; the noisy mechanized whirring had just passed by outside.

"I'd guess that huge crane arm we saw up top," he replied.

"They probably use it for easy access to the lower levels," Quistis agreed. "You saw how deep that shaft went. Anyway, it's not important. We need to find a way out of here before they can fire those missiles."

"If anyone's got any ideas, shout 'em out!" Selphie called out.

"Don't mind me," Rinoa said bitterly. She sat on the opposite end of the room from them, with her eyes trained to the floor. "I'd hate to go sticking my nose in your business again."

Zell grimaced, meeting Selphie's unsettled stare by his side. She wore his signature red and black jacket over her yellow overall-dress; he'd offered it to her to better keep herself warm against the cell's chill. It had been the least he could do after she'd healed the bullet wound in his leg, a feat he still had difficulty believing.

He leaned against the metal plated wall in his plain, sleeveless undershirt and jean-shorts. Quistis sat a short ways off, her pink zip-up vest and brown arm warmers perfectly suited for the conditions. As a master of ice spellcraft, the cold likely wouldn't have fazed her even without them. Perhaps under different circumstances, she would have loaned the warmers to Rinoa; the girl had only her duster sweater, ragged and torn from the lizard creatures' claws. There had been no such kindness offered.

Zell and his fellow SeeDs had awoken on the parade float, as the sorceress had dissolved the petrification spell that had turned them to statues. Still disoriented, they'd been hauled to their feet by a group of soldiers, and promptly cuffed. The thick metal restraints were exactly like those Rinoa had shown them; with a few button presses, both on either wrist were magnetically bound together behind their backs. The instinctual urge to resist dissipated as he'd noticed Rinoa standing on the float with them. A pair of standard handcuffs were affixed to her wrists. Her thighs and waist had been bandaged up, presumably by Squall; relieved as he was to know she'd survived, he'd wondered why he wasn't with her.

Just then, he'd been hauled up onto the platform. A massive icicle protruded through his shoulder. Zell had looked on in disbelief with the others as they were all relieved of their weapons, GF spheres, and other personal effects. Seifer stood by his liege, paying no mind to the proceedings. His amazement, for whatever reason, had instead been directed to his right arm, clutching at it as he gingerly rotated his wrist. Finally, Edea had made her way over to Squall's limp body, held upright by two soldiers. With a wave of her hand, the ice spike had shimmered out of existence. A brilliant glow then materialized in her palm; it had looked no different from the energy Selphie had called upon to heal his leg. A moment later, it went to work just the same. The gaping hole in Squall's shoulder magically congealed, and mended without a trace.

"Take them away," the wicked witch had commanded Seifer before disappearing into a shroud of darkness. "I must be off to deal with the rest of the government. I leave the interrogation proceedings to you. Do not disappoint me again, boy."

"As you wish," he'd responded with a hint of ire.

The four of them had been marched down off the float, and through the newly cut opening in the gateway. They were herded into a waiting prisoner transport on the other side. Zell had just managed to spot Squall being hauled into a separate car before the rear loading doors slammed shut. From there, it had been a long journey due south. They'd eventually been transferred onto a military-operated rail-line bound for the D-District Prison.

Along the way, Quistis had made her best effort to show newfound concern for Rinoa's wellbeing. Alas, whether she were still unwilling or unable to reconcile, the girl had shown her nothing but contempt in return. In the face of such ungratitude, it hadn't taken long for Quistis to revert back to her own foul demeanor. Even now, the two refused to so much as look at one another.

"Where do you think they're keeping Squall?" Selphie broke the awkward silence.

"I want to say they'd put him in the medical bay," Zell said. He brought up his arm with the Odine Bangle still attached to place his hand on his chin. "But… well, after how she sealed that hole clean up, I gotta wonder if he even needs it. Thanks, by the way. For the bullet wound. You're a real miracle-worker yourself."

"Oh, yeah, don't mention it" she blushed. "Speaking of which, I wonder what happened to Irvine."

"I've never seen anyone other than Commandant Xu use holy spellcraft before," Quistis cut her off. "And I don't remember there being another GF of that kind on record."

"Yeah, guess I kinda won the lottery there, huh? For all the good it does us now."

Zell parted his lips to reply, when the door hissed open. Two uniformed guards stepped inside, each armed with a nightstick.

"Which one of you is Rinoa?" the one at the head spoke.

Zell flitted his eyes across the room to her. The girl raised her head from her hunched knees.

"Uh, I… I'm Rinoa," she answered in a shaky voice, and rose to her feet.

"You're coming with us," he sternly motioned to her. "The rest of you, stay right where you are."

"Hold up!" Zell intervened. He relieved himself from the wall, and stepped forward to confront the guards. "What do you want with her? What are you gonna-"

The nightstick cracked across his left cheek, twisting his neck to the side. His face screamed in agony as he toppled over.

"Zell!" the three ladies shrieked his name in unison.

Their boots scuffled across the floor as the second guard entered the fray. They all just as quickly halted in their tracks as he drew a taser.

"Don't screw with me, you little punk!" the first soldier roared from above. "You understand who's in charge here?! I'm asking you a question!"

Zell hacked as he was kicked in the midriff, and rolled over onto his back. Now bleary-eyed, the fluorescent lights above resembled a heavenly constellation of stars.

"Stop!" Rinoa's voice suddenly ripped through the cell. "I'll go, so just leave him alone, please!"

At her compliance, Zell's attacker begrudgingly backed off. Selphie rushed over, took hold of his shoulders, and helped him sit up. His head was spinning, his jaw still sore from the nightstick. With one last disconcerted look back, Rinoa strode on by, and followed the guard out the door. The second remained standing in place with his taser still trained to them.

"Back against the wall, all of you!" he ordered.

"Where are you taking her?" Quistis demanded of him.

"General's orders. She's got a full pardon. Now, hurry up!"

Zell's eyes bulged at the unexpected news. He'd assumed any influence Caraway might have held had died with the president. That he'd been able to arrange a pardon for his daughter spoke volumes. Evidently however, it had not been enough to manage the same for them. His spirits deflated, he rose back up to his feet with Selphie's assistance. With one hand around her shoulders, and the other to his battered stomach, they retreated back to the wall with Quistis. The guard promptly holstered his taser, spun on his heel, and took his leave. The door swung shut moments later, magnetically re-sealing with an electrical hum.

"Well, at least she'll be safe this way, I guess," Selphie sighed. Zell finally let go, and slumped back against the cold steel plating.

"Maybe she'll show a little gratitude to him for once," Quistis huffed. "Either way, she's finally out of our hair. Good riddance."

Zell bowed his head in despair. He had no interest in taking sides. All the same, he could not condone such petty grudge holding, no matter how strongly he shared her sentiments. Though in the past he'd let himself be goaded by Seifer more times than he cared to admit, now was the time to remain level-headed. Now was the time for Quistis' usual calm, analytical self. Instead, his former instructor crossed to the room's opposite end, seemingly prepared to further stew in her foul mood.

We are so screwed…

Squall's eyes flitted open to yet another bright light shining in his face. His arm met resistance as he tried to bring it up to shield his vision. He craned his neck to the side to see his wrist shackled by a metal restraint. It was then, as gravity pulled his weary head back down, that he realized he was not lying flat, but held aloft against the wall, his arms splayed out as if he'd been crucified. A thick bandage had been patched on his right temple, just barely dipping down over his eye.

"Well, good to know you're a light sleeper," the voice from before mocked him.

He brought his neck back down, and squinted through the brightness. Sure enough, his smug rival stepped forth from the shadows. His arrogant blue eyes, divided by the scar Squall had left between them, looked him over with amusement. Squall blinked his own as he noticed the ebony gunblade held within his grasp; the arm in question moved too fluidly for having taken a bullet.

"I'm sure you can guess what happens now."

"Are you proud of yourself?" Squall shot back. He instinctively squirmed within the restraints. "You've sold out everyone and everything you've ever known, and for what? Power? Fame? Whatever it is, I hope it was worth reducing yourself to that witch's lapdog."

"Lapdog?" he echoed with a callous chuckle. "I told you, I've become her knight! And as for 'that witch'… dear me, Squall, just how heartless can you be?"

Heartless…

Hadn't Irvine accused him of the very same thing?

"Just think: without her, you'd be in the morgue right now. And I'd be short a limb."

Seifer twirled the Hyperion in his freshly healed right arm. Through the spotlight's glare, Squall could just make out the tear in his jacket where the bullet had passed through.

"Miraculous, isn't it? The divine gift of the sorceress, bestowed to humanity by the great god Hyne, and passed down from time immemorial by the chosen women who carry on his legacy. Oh, but you're too educated to believe in 'fairy tales' like that, right?"

Squall would have thought as much not even a week earlier. With all that he'd borne witness to in the last few days however, there was no longer any denying the power's legitimacy.

"She could even mend these scars on our faces," Seifer smirked. He suddenly raised his gunblade to just below Squall's chin. "But you know what, Squall? I've been thinking I'll keep mine, until the day I finally have my ultimate victory over you, man to man. And then, I'll have the last proof of your existence wiped from my face. Just you wait."

"Give me back my gunblade, and we can settle it right here and now," Squall menaced as he fought to back his face away from the blade.

"Oho, sounds like someone's got a death wish," he laughed as he retracted his weapon. "But we can't have you dying on us just yet. There's still so much we need out of that twisted little mind of yours. So, be a good boy. Give us the information we're looking for, and I'll gladly give you that warrior's death."

"What could I possibly know?"

"What, indeed. Let's cut right to the chase, then. I'll spell it out nice and easy for you: Where. Is. Ellone?"

Squall's heart skipped a beat, and leapt into his throat. Dream and reality collided once more, just as they had outside of the Royal Galbadia Hotel. To have stumbled onto the scene of one of his visions had been surreal enough. To now hear the name of someone from that world spoken was unbelievable, much less that Seifer somehow knew of his dreams.

"Oh my," the blonde smiled. "If that isn't the guiltiest face I've seen in a long time."

"I… I'm not even sure who that is," he stammered.

It was closer to the truth than any other rational answer he could give. Seifer's face instantly became a scowl.

"Squall, do you think I was born yesterday? I don't care how much Cid's brainwashed you, don't insult my intelligence. Just for that, you win a special prize."

He motioned to the room's right-hand side. Straining his eyes, Squall could discern the looming silhouette of a bulky generator in the far corner. A uniformed figure manned a control console beside it.

"Just a light one to start us off."

"Yes, sir!" a gruff voice responded. "Here's some payback for ya, you little shit!"

Squall opened his mouth in confusion. His intended words became a tortured roar as the electricity surged through him. His limbs jerked wildly in place. Every nerve exploded in agony. He abruptly recalled President Deling's public execution, wondering if he too might meet the same fate. Slowly, the pain subsided.

"Consider that a warning," Seifer smirked. "Don't play dumb with me. Edea knows safeguarding Ellone is one of SeeD's primary aims. Now, let's try this again. Where is she?"

His tongue was frozen, his mind perplexed beyond belief. The idea that the young girl from his latest vision was somehow related to SeeD was ridiculous. He recalled Laguna's re-telling of her past, and how she'd narrowly escaped abduction by Sorceress Adel's forces; he could now safely conclude that the dreams were in fact visions from roughly 20 years ago. For another sorceress to now be seeking a girl with the same name went beyond coincidence. And yet, he knew nothing of her current whereabouts, nor her alleged connection to SeeD. Neither the headmaster nor the administration had ever mentioned anything of the sort.

"I don't know," he insisted, his voice still shaky after the electric shock. "Even if I did, do you really think I'd tell you?"

"Hmph. You're on my 'tough-nut-to-crack' list, all right. Didn't think you'd talk so easily. Have it your way. Take it up a notch!"

Squall braced himself for another round. The electricity again sent him thrashing all about in his restraints. He grit his teeth against the pain, seemingly more intense than before; he could hardly tell whether the voltage had indeed been increased, or if his endurance were simply waning. It soon fizzled out again. He let his head slump forward, panting heavily to catch his breath.

"Remember this: even if you won't talk, the others will. The instructor, the little messenger girl, or even the chicken-wuss. I bet he wouldn't last three seconds!"

"They… they're all here?" Squall stuttered. He somehow found the strength to raise his head.

"Oh, you bet!" Seifer sneered. He again raised his gunblade to just before Squall's chest. "But since I like you so much, I figured you should go first. I would say you'd be saving them a lot of suffering by just giving in… but then, when have you ever cared about anyone but yourself?"

The slight normally wouldn't have gotten to Squall; he'd always lived alone, in service to his own interests and well-being, and felt no shame in doing so. Now, it presented a sting to rival the electricity. The intense emotions as he'd charged in to save Rinoa had been so real, just as his relief when he'd managed to save her from the lizard creatures. Likewise, he'd been grateful for her own intervention on the parade float, not to mention Irvine's marksmanship. Now, strapped to the wall, helpless to save himself, he needed someone's help yet again.

"Why so quiet all of a sudden? This is the scene where you swear your undying hatred for me! The tale of the evil mercenary versus the noble sorceress' knight! Don't disappoint me now!"

"N-noble?" Squall sputtered weakly. "You think… this is noble? You're… nothing but a sadist."

"Maybe," Seifer hummed, retracting his gunblade again. "And it sounds like you've got quite the masochistic streak yourself. Let's contin-"

"Sir Seifer!" a new voice came from the door. "Major… er, Lieutenant Biggs!"

"Dammit, Wedge!" the soldier at the control panel swore; Squall suddenly recalled just where he'd heard the voice before. "Can't you see we're in the middle of something?!"

"Y-yes, sir! But there are new orders from Sorceress Edea. Specifically for Sir Seifer."

"What kind of orders?" the blonde pivoted to the door.

"The missiles targeted for Trabia and Balamb Gardens will be ready to launch within the next several hours. Sorceress Edea has commanded that you be on site at the base for final preparations."

What?!

"Right now?! We've only just started the interrogation!"

Squall's ears tuned out the rest of the conversation. His mind stayed fixed on the mention of a missile strike. Without advance warning, the two Gardens would be reduced to a pair of smoldering craters.

"Fine," Seifer finally acquiesced. He turned back to Biggs by the control panel. "Take over from here. I'll be expecting results when I get back."

"Yes, sir!"

The demoted former major saluted. Seifer ignored him, instead turning back to Squall. His face showed not an ounce of regret.

"Surprised? It's a pity, really. I grew up there, too. But orders are orders. Edea wants both Gardens destroyed. And once they're gone, that's when the SeeD hunt will begin. It'll be a blast, so don't go dying on me yet, Squall."

"You… sick fuck!" Squall roared with what little strength he had left. Seifer paid him no heed as he trailed to the door.

"Well, looks like I'm the one calling the shots now!"

Biggs stepped away from the console, and motioned to his subordinate on the other side.

"Wedge, you man the controls!"

"Y-yes, sir! It's just… the electricity, well… it gives me bad flashbacks of Dollet."

"Oh, don't be such a wimp! Look at it this way: once we're done with this brat, we can call up that little bitch next and give her a taste of her own medicine."

"Why… why are you following Seifer?" Squall eked out. There was a chance, however slim, that he could sway the lieutenant's anger in his favor. "He's the one who led us up to the tower. He's the reason you got demoted. How can you be okay with taking orders from him?"

"You're crazy if you think I trust him!" Biggs affirmed. "Or that slimy witch. No one in their right mind around here does. But like it or not, they're the ones running the show now. And if you think I'd trust you any more than them, you've got another thing coming! Now spit it out! Where's this 'Ellone' girl?"

His only potential gambit had failed. There was no longer any recourse but to accept his punishment, and hold out for as long as he could.

"I've already told you, I don't know where she is!"

"Wrong answer! Fry him, Wedge!"

The electricity surged through his body for a third time. His body spasmed uncontrollably as tears began to spill from his eyes. He could no longer bear the all-encompassing agony. Time lost all meaning to him. His mind descended into a haze as the the torture continued. Whether for minutes or hours, he could no longer tell; he had become numb to the world. As his eyes finally gave way, he could hear a metallic pounding echo in the distance, drifting further and further away.

"What the… on out there…?!" Biggs bellowed as his vision blurred.

Good night…

Zell's ears perked up at the sound of the door; its magnetic seal disengaged for the first time since Rinoa had been escorted out. He shifted his eyes and rose to his feet. He would be ready for another stand-off if and when it came. Moments later, in hobbled a sight he hadn't expected.

The stout feline creature stood no taller than three feet high. Striking orange fur covered its body, spiked on top of its head and at the end of its swaying tail. Its breast was a brilliant white streak, popping out amidst the fiery coloring. Its oversized paws carried a metal tray with three small bowls of gruel balanced atop.

"A moomba?" Quistis finally spoke up.

Zell vaguely remembered his biology studies from years before. They were an omnivorous breed of mammal, native to the northernmost Trabia snowfields. Despite their sharp claws, they were said to be quite benign, and reasonably intelligent creatures.

"Aw," Selphie adored it. "It's been a while since I've seen one of these little guys. Never would've expected to see one so far from home."

"Explains why it's so freezing," Zell hummed. "But… what's it doing here? You telling me they use these guys for slave labor?"

"You catch on quick."

A guard stepped on through after the moomba, and closed the door behind them.

"Just take your slop and eat. Leave the bowls by the door when you're done."

"You jerk!" Selphie shot to her feet. "How do you people sleep at night?! I oughta knock you into next week!"

"Selphie, calm down!" Quistis urged her.

"You think so?" the guard smirked. "In that case, maybe you'd prefer to eat off the floor!"

He thrust his boot forward against the moomba's back. It toppled over face-first with a squeak. The metal tray flew from its paws, clanging loudly against the floor. The bowls spilled their disgusting contents, which quickly pooled into a thick puddle in the center.

"How d'ya like that?!" the soldier roared, dominantly placing his foot atop the small creature.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" Zell shouted.

He darted forward, leaping over the pool of sludge. The guard removed his foot from the moomba's spine, and entered a fighting stance. He caught hold of Zell's fist. Undeterred, he fired back with a hook to the jaw; the blonde brawler just barely swerved his head out of the way, and pulled his caught fist free. Without his metal knuckles or conjured stone gauntlets, he would have to be far more cautious. He drew back his right arm for a low jab. The guard side-stepped, and threw one of his own. Zell caught the fist, and the next one. They both stood locked in a stalemate, each vying to push the other back.

"Huh?!"

The soldier suddenly disengaged. The moomba had risen to its feet in the interim, and begun forcefully shoving its aggressor back with Zell. The unexpected tag-team effort sent him stumbling backwards. He lost his footing as he stepped into the puddle of slop, and slipped. Down he went on his back, his trousers landing squarely in the small pool. Selphie and Quistis both shot in from their respective corners, the former immediately going to town on his face. Zell rounded the puddle, took hold of his shoulders with Quistis, and restrained him as the pummeling continued. Finally, he fell unconscious, his head drooping limply to the side.

"Well, that hit the spot!" Selphie proclaimed as she turned her attention to the moomba. "You okay, little guy?"

The small orange creature let out a squeak in response. It appeared to understand her concern.

"Now's our chance to escape," Quistis said.

She dragged the soldier's listless body out of the puddle. The slop on the back of his pants painted a wide streak as she maneuvered him to the wall.

"Zell, let's get you into his uniform."

"You want me to put on those?!" he protested, pointing to the soiled pants.

Quistis paid him no mind. She flipped the soldier onto his stomach, removed her gloves, and began using them to sop up the gruel.

"You're the CQC specialist here," she explained. "Without our equipment, you're our best chance. If you can find out where our weapons are being held and bring them back, maybe we can fight our way out of here."

"Your weapon at least," Selphie moaned. "Mine got sliced in half, remember?"

"I guess," Zell conceded. "Still, talk about gross."

"It's our only option," Quistis said. She'd already begun stripping the unconscious man of his attire.

"Unless you wanna skin this little guy and wear him as a disguise," Selphie jokingly motioned to the moomba.

The furry creature squeaked in alarm. It fell to all fours, and raced to the other side of the room.

"I'm only kidding, silly!"

Begrudgingly, Zell grabbed the helmet, and slid it over his head. He quickly donned the remainder of the navy blue uniform. His face contorted in revulsion as he slipped into the pants; they were still visibly stained on the rear, and reeked of the bowls' former contents. He would need to maintain his distance as much as he could from any patrols along the way.

"Well, here goes nothing," he sighed. "I'm not gonna lock the door, so keep a close eye on that guy. If he wakes up, don't give him a chance to make a break for it."

"Rodger!" Selphie saluted.

Zell turned to the door. He prepared to throw open the hatch, when a light patting on his forearm drew his attention. He looked down to his side. The moomba stood there on its hind legs, playfully pawing at him.

"You wanna come with?" he asked. The creature nodded its head with a purring sound. "Alright then, let's get going."

He reached for the latch, and stepped on through. The prison's central hub waited beyond. The vast circular walkway he stood upon ringed a massive shaft in the middle; he'd gotten a glimpse over the guard-rail when they'd been ushered in earlier that morning. The gaping hole extended deep into the earth, far beyond the meager fluorescent lighting around him. Each level above and below was comprised of an identical circular catwalk, lined by a set number of cells.

He quickly closed the door behind him and his furry companion. The nearby control panel operated the cell's magnetic sealing; as there were presently no other guards on his level, he bypassed it without bothering to put on a show. He made his way to the nearby staircase leading up. By its side, an open floor hatch gave way to another flight of steps leading down. A steel placard on the wall read: 'General Population Floor 7'.

We came in from up top, so that's probably the way to go.

The two climbed the steps up to the next floor. It was virtually identical, with no visible distinction besides the number on the wall. He scanned his eyes all across the catwalk, spotting no sign of life. What did catch his attention however, was a lone security camera hung from the ceiling on the other side; its lens was trained across the shaft to the staircase where they stood. Zell gulped. He'd neglected to check the previous floor for another like it. Disguised as he was, it was no cause for concern just yet. All he could do was act natural, and keep moving.

They continued up for another two floors. Both had a camera in exactly the same spot, but otherwise, there were no sentries about. It was on the 11th floor that they finally ran across two more moombas; both bolted around the shaft's circumference on all fours towards the stairs. Zell's moomba squeaked in surprise, rushing past him to meet its brethren. The pair halted in their tracks as it began communicating with them in a string of animalistic vocalizations. One of the other two responded with a stranger sound, still.

"Laguna!" it squeaked excitedly.

"Laguna?!" Zell's moomba repeated the strange phrase.

Suddenly, it turned and broke into a sprint up the next flight of stairs. The other two were hot on its tail.

"Hey, wait!" Zell called out. He tore up the steps after them.

What was that about? Did he ask them where our weapons are?

He tailed the furry creatures higher and higher, until at last he came to a stop on the prison's 13th level. As opposed to each below, the spacious walkway around the silo's top-most floor spanned only a half-circle. A massive industrial crane arm sat on the edge of the shaft. Upon his team's entrance, it had reached out over the center. Now, it clasped onto a small hexagonal cell, docked within a perfectly sized divot further along. A glass-paned control room stood on the opposite wall beside the spiral staircase leading to the upper levels. In the space between, a frenzied uprising was in progress. Roughly a dozen moombas dog-piled onto a pair of hopelessly overwhelmed soldiers. Still more raced through the open metal door directly behind.

"Damn it all!" the commanding officer in red swore as he struggled. "What's going on with these stupid fur-balls?!"

"I-I don't know, Maj-, er Lieutenant Biggs," the second stammered. "I don't remember ever hearing about… these things throwing a revolt!"

Zell looked on with equal parts confusion and amusement.

"Hey, you!" Biggs roared to him. "What the hell are you doing just standing around?! Get in there, and raise the alarm! Now!"

He took off around the ensuing chaos, and rushed into the control room as commanded. Numerous screens hovered over the interior control console, all displaying live footage from the cameras on each level. A feeling of pride and accomplishment welled up in his chest the moment he laid eyes on the neighboring desk. Various weapons and accessories lay neatly arranged atop. Among them were a sheathed longsword with a hilt resembling a revolver, a coiled metal whip, two severed halves of a large red and gold nunchaku, three silver spheres grouped together with a peculiar bronze fourth, several belts, watches, and wallets, a gleaming silver pendant and ring each with a lion engraved on them, and most immediately applicable, a pair of studded fighting gloves.

Jackpot!

He quickly removed his uniform's plain black gloves, and slipped on the familiar leather. With the Odine Bangles still fixed to his wrists under his sleeves, his GF would be of no use. He would have to count on the moombas to even the odds. With a quick breath in through his nose, he charged back out and into the fray.

"I told you to sound the alarm!" Biggs chastised him, still overcome by the riot. "Get back in there now, or I'll have your pay docked for the next month!"

"Looks like your arm's healed since Dollet," Zell smirked.

He whipped off his helmet. Biggs' mouth fell open; he froze in place, standing still as a statue even as the moombas continued clawing at him from all sides.

"Now, let's have a crack at the other one!"

Chapter Text

"Laguna!"

Again? When is this going to stop?

"Laguna!" the scratchy voice squeaked again. A frantic tugging took hold of his arm.

Ellone? No, it doesn't sound like her. Where am I?

"Laguna!"

The voice this time came from the other side of his head. And then, from his feet. Whatever was calling out the former soldier's name, there was more than one.

Squall finally cracked open his eyes. The spotlights no longer shone in his face, nor was his body chained to the wall rack. He instead lay flat on the hard metal floor. Moments later, an orange-haired creature ducked its head right in front of his face. His eyes shot open in terror. An instinctual yelp escaped his throat, startling the animal. It backed away as he shot upright. Adrenaline surged through his veins. He forced himself to brush aside any fatigue, and leapt up into a fighting stance.

He was surrounded. Five of the animals – moombas, if he was correct – flanked him in a ring, their beady yellow eyes all trained to him. Whether their intent was predatory, he could not tell; their sharpened talons gave him no assurance. He darted his eyes between them in rapid succession, wary for the first sign of movement. It finally came courtesy of the second from his left. The creature raised its paw, extending it outward as if motioning for a high-five.

"Laguna!"

Squall's frenzied thought-process stalled. His jaw fell open on its own. A moomba being capable of human speech was ludicrous enough. That it somehow knew that particular name, or of his visions, was unbelievable.

"You… know Laguna?" he finally asked.

The remaining four sprung to life in jubilation. They echoed Laguna's name one after another as they pranced around on all fours. Whatever knowledge they possessed, it seemed their command of human language extended no further.

The moomba who'd first spoken stayed standing in place with its paw outstretched to him. Squall extended his own palm in return, meeting the plush padding. Satisfied, the creature squeaked, and hunched back down on four legs. It purred excitedly, whipping its tail back and forth.

"Squall!"

The voice came from the door. He turned to see a lone man dressed in the standard blue Galbadian uniform step inside. His helmet was off, revealing a familiar head of spiked blonde hair, and a set of tattooed tendrils framing his left eye. Squall sighed in relief; his rescue had come.

"What's going on in here?" Zell asked as he took a step forward. "You okay?"

As he approached, the moombas suddenly lunged towards him with a series of snarls. Squall could understand their apprehension. What he could not was their insistence on being so protective of him.

"It's alright," he urged the creatures as he stepped past them towards Zell. "He's a friend. He's not with them."

The five ceased their growling. They shrunk back as he made his way forward, their eyes still tracking the blonde's every move.

"How'd you get these guys on your side?" Zell shot him a perplexed look.

"I'm not sure," he muttered. He took the opportunity to remove the bandage on his temple. "But it seems like we have… a mutual friend."

"Come again?"

"Forget it. We need to get out of here, fast. The Gardens… they're going to fire-"

"Missiles?" Zell finished for him. "We know. Our weapons are in the control room right outside. Let's get back to Quistis and Selphie, and maybe with these guys' help we can fight our way out of here."

"Where's Rinoa?" he asked tensely; her exclusion hadn't gone unnoticed.

"She's been let go. Her dad managed to give her a full pardon."

Good. At least there's one less thing to worry about.

"Come on, let's get moving. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

Squall followed Zell out the door, left to wonder why the back of his uniform's pants were so thoroughly stained. They emerged onto a wide semi-circular stretch of flooring, where a large group of even more moombas frolicked about. Two freshly dispatched soldiers lay in the middle of it all, undoubtedly his torturers. Over the railing to his right, a seemingly bottomless shaft stretched far into the prison's lower levels. He'd presumably been raised up in the nearby docked cell, clasped by the large crane beside. As they made their way through the crowd, each of the furry creatures turned their eyes to him with glee. Many more exclaimed Laguna's name to him as if in greeting.

It almost feels like I'm a celebrity…

"Hey," Zell stopped in his tracks. "Did they not hook you up with those bangles?"

"Bangles?" Squall repeated, not understanding.

"I take it that's a no."

He rolled up either sleeve of his uniform, revealing two metal cuffs clamped around his wrists. Their silver plating perfectly matched the prison's cold paneling all around. Each featured a keycard scanner, in addition to a series of buttons with a pulsing LED indicator on the right-hand one.

"These things produce some kind of negative energy field around the person wearing them. Supposedly, it cancels out the frequency of a GF. They're made by Odine Industries, if that tells you anything. Looks like the general wasn't just blowing smoke when he said they had an in with Esthar. Me and the girls all got cuffed when we were captured. I guess they didn't bother with you, since you were out cold. That, or they figured you were already… well, you know."

"So, what you're telling me is you can't use your GF?" Squall concluded. The existence of such technology was troubling at best, regardless of where it had come from.

"Yeah, but as long as you can, we've got a chance. I'll stay up here and keep watch. You head on down and get the girls."

"Fine," Squall agreed. He motioned to Biggs and Wedge passed out on the ground, and then to the docked solitary confinement chamber. "Move them in there while I grab our stuff."

He turned on his heel to the glass-paneled control room. A small subset of his moomba followers tailed him inside. As Zell had said, their respective weapons, belts, and miscellaneous effects lay strewn on the desk beside the control console. His legs lunged forward of their own accord at the sight of his gunblade. He snatched up the weapon in one hand, and his intertwined belts with the other. He slipped his legs through the makeshift harness, re-attached the sheath's clip to its side, and then reached for his wallet, watch, lion pendant, and ring.

Having returned the accessories to his pocket, wrist, neck, and left ring-finger respectively, he finally shifted his attention to the cluster of metal spheres in the center. A disparity among them piqued his curiosity: one of the four appeared to be made of another alloy altogether, its reflective bronze a stark contrast to the silver sheen of the others. Straight away, he had a reasonably confident hunch whose it was.

He plucked the first of the three silver spheres from the table, engaging the switches on its top and bottom with his fingers. The halves parted to reveal a swirling, sky-blue energy inside; it had to be Quistis' ice sphere. He disengaged and pocketed it for safekeeping. The second contained a familiar fiery aura within. He clipped it to his belt before moving on to the third, its earthy, sandstone hue confirming his suspicion.

Setting Zell's sphere back on the table for a moment, he picked up the bronze one. Its dimensions were identical. He twirled it around in his fingers until the logo on its shell spun into view. His eyes widened in disbelief as the image registered to him. His breath caught in his throat. Without exception, each and every Guardian Force produced for Balamb Garden bore the black and white crest of SeeD upon its outer casing, a symbol of the weapon's singular affiliation with their army. An entirely different insignia was etched on this sphere, however, one he'd grown ever more familiar with in light of recent developments: the gear-shaped crest of Galbadia.

He stared at it in stunned silence. Refusing to believe it could be legitimate, he depressed the twin switches to part the sphere. To his astonishment, the light within was more intense than any of the three before. It shone with the same radiant, pure white as the blast Selphie's familiar had unleashed on the train.

"What even was that thing?" Rinoa asked. "It's like it was made to take the president's form. How does Galbadia have something like that?"

"Maybe… it was some kind of super gross-looking GF?" Selphie guessed.

"Impossible," Squall shot the idea down. "GFs are produced exclusively for SeeD; the Garden's contract with Odine Industries ensures that."

"Yeah, but…"

She paused, seeming uncertain of what to say.

"But, what if Galbadia found a way to make their own somehow?"

The revelation was world-shattering. Even when considering the bangles Zell and his comrades had been shackled with, for Odine Industries to have broken their contract with Balamb Garden was unthinkable. Likewise, the differing constructive material suggested the sphere had not come from the same manufacturer. But if not by them, who else could have produced it? How? Surely not Galbadia itself. More questions than Squall could fathom shot through his mind. One however, took precedence over all the others.

Who the hell is that girl?!

Selphie had most certainly not received this sphere from any Garden administrator. Where had it come from? Why did she have it? How long had she had it for? And most importantly, could she still be trusted?

He quickly realized he was wasting time; he could not afford to be hung up on such developments, astounding though they were. The fate of the Gardens became more uncertain with each passing second.

He stowed the bronze sphere in his pocket with Quistis'; Zell's he relegated to the other side of his pants, so as not to confuse the two silver variants. He stuffed the wallets and watches in his jacket pockets, slung his former instructor's belt and whip over his shoulder, and took both halves of the nunchaku in one hand. The moombas parted to give him leeway. Outside, Zell and his own collective of furry onlookers stood by the control panel on the freshly sealed solitary unit. Two metallic bangles lay discarded on the floor beside his feet.

"Here," he motioned to Squall with one hand. His fingers held a solid black keycard with fringes of gold around its edges. "Found this on him. It worked on mine, so I'm guessing it's one-size-fits-all. Pass it on to the girls for me."

"Sure," he accepted the thin slab. "I'll trade you."

Squall slid it into his pocket, and fished out the GF sphere. He should have figured had any of his comrades been brought up to the torture room after him, Biggs would have needed a way to get the cuffs off them before putting them up on the electrical rack. He placed the sphere in Zell's waiting palm, and then passed him his wallet.

"The others are down on level 7," Zell explained as he brought up his helmet from under his arm, and pulled it over his head. "It's the cell closest to the stairs going up. I left the lock disengaged. Don't take too long, ya hear?"

Squall nodded. He made for the stairs leading down as Zell trailed off to the control room with several moombas. Despite their excitable demeanor, they seemed to possess intellect greater than most other animals. How fortunate they'd seen fit to take their side.

He descended the steps to the next level, finding a barren circular walkway running around the shaft's circumference. He froze upon noticing the security camera on the opposite side. Perhaps he ought to have commandeered either Biggs or Wedge's uniform for the trip. The feeling in his gut just as quickly subsided; he'd seen the camera feeds on the monitors in the control room just moments ago. Zell would be the only one on the other end to witness his stumble.

Better not let him see any more...

Recomposing himself, Squall continued down through each unnervingly similar floor, until he finally reached the 7th level. He made his way over to the door Zell had mentioned, took hold of the latch, and swung it open. Inside, Quistis knelt by the side of an unconscious guard, stripped of his uniform. A dark trail of residue led from his limp body to a puddle of sludgy liquid in the center of the room. Selphie rested on the other side of the room with Zell's jacket draped over her dainty figure. Her eyes flitted to him as he stepped inside.

"Squall!" she lit up. She bolted to her feet, and tore across the room to him. "Are you okay? Where's Zell?"

"Upstairs."

He shoved the severed nunchaku into her hand, and reached into his pocket for her GF sphere. An explanation would have to wait; their escape was of the utmost priority now.

"We don't have much time. Let's get moving."

"I take it he told you about the missile strike on Balamb Garden?" Quistis asked. She rose, and sidled around the puddle towards him.

"Balamb and Trabia."

He casually plopped the bronze sphere into Selphie's hand. Whether or not the ramifications registered to her, he couldn't tell. Her face abruptly turned pale for another reason altogether.

"What?!" she yelped.

"Like I said, we don't have time," he reiterated.

He passed off to Quistis her whip, belt, and GF. He'd made a snap decision to hold onto their wallets for the time being, particularly Selphie's. Finally, he withdrew the keycard.

"These should get those off your wrists. I'll explain our situation on the way up."

Selphie snatched the card from his hands without a word, and waved it over the scanner on the bangle around her right wrist. With a mechanical beep, the pulsing LED light disengaged. The bangle's locks parted. She shook it off, letting it tumble to the floor with a heavy clank. Its twin followed moments later. Squall turned back to the door as she passed the keycard to Quistis. The moment he cleared the frame, his ears exploded.

A sudden high pitched wailing tore through the silo. He frantically clamped his hands over his ears as he stumbled forward onto the catwalk. Emergency lights situated around the shaft came to life all at once.

"Alert!" an amplified voice spoke over the loudspeakers; Squall could barely discern the words against the blaring klaxon. "Prison break in progress! Brace for ascension!"

'Ascension'? What does that mean?

"Zell must be in trouble!" Selphie screeched beside him. "We've got to get up there, fast!"

"Keep your eyes peeled!" Quistis shouted as she joined them. "We've got to be ready for anyth-"

A massive tremor cut her forewarning short. Squall fell to his knees; he caught hold of the metal railing on the edge of the bottomless pit to steady himself. The earthquake intensified further, the vibrations seeming to wrest the entire prison around them. He could feel his knuckles turning white beneath his gloves. Quistis and Selphie were faring no better; they desperately clung to whatever hand-hold they could find. After roughly 30 seconds, it finally dissipated.

"What the heck was that?!" Selphie moaned, her voice infinitely more audible now that the siren had stopped. "Some kind of explosion?!"

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," Quistis said. She rose to her feet, and drew her whip. "Come on! Zell needs our help."

They made for the winding stairway leading up, taking the steps two at a time. Moments later, automatic rifle shots roared from above; the percussive racket echoed down through the open shaft. Squall preemptively engaged the sphere at his waist, working at speed to call forth the energy. The translucent blue barrier shimmered and faded into infrared. The two ladies to his rear followed suit as they rose to the 10th level.

The trio continued upward as fast as they could without stumbling. With each new level, Squall re-directed his eyes from his feet to the ringed walkway spread out before him. Beyond keeping his eyes peeled for inbound sentries, he couldn't help but glance back at Selphie each time; he could no longer in good conscience let her stray from his sight. Though her ditzy personality did not seem like the sort he would expect from a double agent, given what he knew now, it was an all too real possibility. Perhaps it had all been an expertly acted facade from the start, that he had been too unassuming, or too ignorant to see through.

They finally reached the 13th level. Rifle shots whizzed from the winding spiral staircase leading up. Six Galbadian infantrymen had taken a knee on the steps to steady themselves. Their targets: the moombas now frantically dashing all about in the open expanse. Several lay motionless on the floor, steeped in pools of their own blood. A lone soldier had stepped out from beside the crane control room. He waved his arms frantically at the shooters, begging them to cease fire. They paid him no heed, regardless of whether they knew who he really was. With his helmet re-affixed, it was the stains on his backside which tipped Squall off.

"What are they doing?!" Selphie shrieked at the ensuing massacre.

She raised her palm, now brimming with buzzing electricity. Squall sidestepped clear of her trajectory just before the lightning strike loosed itself from her hand. It soared over the moombas towards the staircase. The gunfire abruptly ceased as the soldiers scrambled for cover.

The shock detonated on impact. Five of the six sputtered and jerked as the electricity surged through them. The other had desperately leapt over the banister, falling face-first on the hard metal floor below. The regrouping moombas were quick to dog-pile on him.

"You made it!" the disguised Zell shouted as he bolted over. He removed his helmet to assure them of his identity.

"What happened?" Squall asked.

"No idea. That alarm just started up out of nowhere."

"But that alert said there was a prison break in progress, didn't it?" Quistis pondered. "Who else could it-"

Another volley of gunshots cut her off. Squall turned his eyes back to the top of the staircase, where a pair of soldiers descended backwards from the mouth of the open ceiling hatch. Their rifles were trained to the top of the steps, rather than down at the four of them, or the pack of moombas. Just then, a pair of far louder shotgun blasts ripped through the silo from atop the steps. The soldiers were blown backwards. Their bodies twisted and bent unnaturally as they tumbled down step after step. After several moments of tense silence, a tall figure in a khaki longcoat stepped down from the upper landing.

His boots clanked on the metal steps. He held his shotgun propped up against his shoulder, smoke wafting from its barrels and up over the brim of his black cowboy hat. His eyes leisurely passed over all in sight from his vantage point, and finally settled on them. As Squall met his gaze, his lips curled into a triumphant grin.

"Somebody call fer a breakout?" he hollered down.

The twangy accent had returned to his voice. The signature inflection that had irked Squall to no end was now music to his ears. It promised salvation, just as the shot that had spared him from Seifer.

"Oh, come on!"

Another recognizable voice echoed down, this one feminine in nature. Squall's mouth dropped open as a streak of blue descended, and slapped the sharpshooter on the back of the head.

"Stop trying to act cool! We've got to get down there, fa-"

She stopped herself as she caught sight of them below.

"Hey!" she shouted down, waving her arms. "You guys! Get up here, quick! We're here to get you out!"

Squall sprung into action, charging around the throng of moombas to the base of the stairs. Zell and Selphie let out several whoops and hollers as they followed behind. He could scarcely believe his eyes. He'd never expected to see them again, much less that they would put their lives on the line to save them. Under normal circumstances, he would have been gobsmacked at Irvine's recklessness; Rinoa had no place in this conflict any longer. And yet, an unfamiliar swelling rose in his chest instead. It was a sensation he couldn't put a name to.

"Glad t'see y'all in one piece," Irvine quipped as they reached the top.

"Says the guy who was gonna up and leave without them!" Rinoa scolded him. She put her hands on her hips as she turned to the SeeDs. "Seriously, my dad tells him to come pick me, and only me up, and he was about to go through with it!"

"I'm standin' here now, ain't I?!"

"After I scratched you to death!"

"Thank you," Quistis interjected, her voice strangely hollow as she turned from Irvine to Rinoa. "Both of you."

"Whatever," the girl huffed, reminding Squall of himself for a moment. "Let's just get moving before reinforcements show up!"

"No argument there," Zell agreed. "You got a ride?"

"Better believe it!" Irvine affirmed. He pumped his shotgun to discharge the empty shells, and turned on his heel. "Let's go!"

The cowboy led the charge up the steps. They rose through the open hatch to the prison's upper administrative levels. Irvine had already done his part to clear a path for them; ravaged bodies of soldiers lay peppered with buckshot all around. Paying only what little heed he could afford to, Squall kept his eyes fixed to the gunman's signature longcoat at the front.

They pushed onward through the carnage-strewn halls, weapons at the ready. What guards did round the corners into their path were dispatched of on sight by Irvine. If Squall wasn't already convinced of his ability, his lightning-fast reflexes sealed the deal. Whatever the reason for his hesitation the night before, it couldn't have been a lack of competence.

They eventually came to a wide freight hangar. Metal storage containers took up much of the expanse below the catwalk they stood upon. A cluster of matching, silver-plated troop transports were parked on the far side of the room by the massive steel doors, offset by a single yellow outlier on the end.

"That one's ours," Irvine pointed to it.

"Then let's get those doors open, and blow this joint!" Selphie declared.

"I'll see what I can do," Zell said. He put his helmet back on, and started down the catwalk towards the control room on their side of the hangar.

"Hey!" the cowboy called after him. "While yer at it, try an' find somethin' in there labeled 'submerge system', alright?"

"Submerge system? What's that do?"

"Jus' trust me. I've got a feelin' we're gonna need that engaged to get outta here. Now move it!"

The remaining five made a break for the descending metal stairs. As soon as Irvine reached the metal banister, gunfire roared again. Bullets flew from across the divide, ricocheting to and fro. Squall reflexively ducked down by Rinoa's side; the infrared protective barrier still shielding him would provide ample cover for her as well.

In a flash of light, two chunks of ice the size of beach balls shot from Quistis' hands. They exploded into shards of frigid shrapnel on impact. Not letting the opportunity go to waste, Squall grabbed Rinoa's wrist with his free hand, and jerked her down the stairs after Irvine. Quistis and Selphie stayed behind to fend off their attackers.

He reached the bottom, and followed the cowboy across the hangar's length, weaving around several stacks of bulky cargo containers. The parked yellow transport soon came into sight. A noisy metal creaking diverted his attention to the doors. Slowly, the great gate parted. Brilliant morning sunlight suddenly swept across the dank prison interior. He momentarily let go of Rinoa to shield his eyes. Once they'd finally adjusted, he saw a peaceful blue sky dotted by clouds waiting just beyond. It beckoned him to go running into freedom's embrace as fast as he could. And yet, he could see no ground beneath to run upon.

"What the hell?!" Rinoa yelled over the crossfire up on the catwalk. "Where's the desert?!"

"Damn," Irvine swore as they reached the vehicle. "Figured as much. That's what all that shakin' was after they sounded the alarm. This place's special."

"Special, how?" Squall impatiently asked. Even from so close, he still couldn't catch a glimpse of the ground outside.

"Why don't ya stick yer head out an' see fer yerself? Jus' don't go tippin' over."

"Cut the smart-ass routine, and tell us what's going on!" Squall growled. Yet another heated standoff between them was brewing.

"Let's jus' say they don't call this the highest security prison in Galbadia fer nothin'. We read up 'bout this place at my Garden a while back. On top o' bein' out in the middle o' the Dingo Desert, it's all underground, 'cept fer the top level we're on now. Thing is, the whole complex's got this crazy submerge system built in. The bottom o' the main spire's equipped with this huge drill that can burrow this place into the sand, an' raise it back up."

"So, the reason we can't see the ground is…" Rinoa started warily.

"Yup, we're a good hundred feet an' some change in the air right now. So, 'till spiky up there finds the controls, we're sittin' ducks."

Perfect…

"Let's jus' get in!"

Irvine thrust his key into the transport's side door, and twisted hard. He flung it open, allowing Rinoa to climb inside. She clambered over the middle console and into the passenger seat. Squall followed behind, sheathing his gunblade as he maneuvered himself into the backseat.

"Here come those two," Rinoa announced as she buckled herself.

Squall glanced out the window. Quistis and Selphie came charging across the hangar's lower level. Shifting his eyes up, he saw a soldier bolt from the control room; he reached the top of the steps just as the ladies swung open the side door.

"Let's hope that's the last of them," Quistis heaved in exhaustion.

"Do you think Zell found what you were looking for?" Selphie asked Irvine in the driver's seat.

"He better've. Else we ain't goin' nowh-"

His words were silenced by a mighty rumble beneath the transport's chassis. Squall grabbed hold of the driver seat's headrest to steady himself. The carriage sickeningly jerked as he felt a sinking sensation come over him. Through the windowpane, Zell doubled over in alarm. Reasserting his balance, he broke into a full-on sprint. He cleared the remaining distance in seconds, and leapt in through the open door, nearly toppling Selphie over as he did so.

"What the hell did you make me do?!" he roared over the ruckus.

"Jus' buckle up an' hold onto yer ass!" Irvine hollered back.

He floored the gas pedal; Zell barely had time to close the door behind him. Squall dug his fingers deep into the upholstery, hanging on for dear life as the car swerved out to face the open hangar entrance. Beyond, sand dunes peeked into view on the distant horizon. Slowly but surely, the prison was descending to the desert surface.

"RPGs behind us!" Quistis shrieked from the rear. "We need to move, now!"

"We ain't fully touched down! You askin' me to nose-dive outta here?!"

"Fuck it!" Zell angrily swore. "Just floor it! Now!"

On command, the shrill screeching of burning rubber ripped through the hangar. Two successive rocket ignitions sounded from behind. The vehicle lurched forward at frightening speed. It accelerated rapidly as it shot straight for the gaping doors. With a quick glance down to make sure his seat belt was buckled, Squall held on as tightly as he could, and mentally braced for what could very well be the final moments of his life.

The transport's tires cleared the opening just as the rockets detonated behind. They were ejected from the prison's clutches with a blazing fanfare. Just as quickly, they began falling towards the sand-strewn plains roughly three stories below. Time slowed to an agonizing crawl. Squall's stomach sank in tandem with the vehicle. A pair of women shrieked in terror; he dared not tear his eyes from the windshield to see which of the three it might be. Closer and closer the inevitable collision drew, until the fear finally overcame him. He shut his eyes in dread anticipation.

He violently lurched forward and up as the wheels slammed onto the sand. Had he not buckled his seat belt, he would certainly have been flung directly into the front of the vehicle, and perhaps even smashed through the thick glass pane. His companions likewise jerked wildly all around him; each let out a panicked cry before realizing they'd all miraculously survived.

Squall arched his neck back to take stock. He glanced past Quistis with her head in her hands to look through the rear windows. A billowing cloud of dust churned just behind. A massive drill bore deep into the earth, lowering the domed upper level of the prison to its resting position. Gradually, it shrunk into the distance as the vehicle plowed across the sands. Against all odds, by the grace of Irvine, Rinoa, and the curious collective of moombas who'd selflessly risked their lives, they were free.

"Everyone alright?!" Selphie shot upright.

"More or less," Zell groaned. He righted himself in his seat, and removed his helmet. "Really glad I kept this on."

"I… can't believe we're alive," Rinoa exhaled from the passenger seat.

"Thank you, Irvine," Quistis called up from the back, still vying to regain her composure.

"Not a word of it, Quisty… er, ma'am," he stuttered. He reached down with one hand to snatch up his fallen cowboy hat.

"And also for back in the city," Squall added. "You know, when he had me pinned on the float. I guess… I owe you one."

"S'all right. I coulda easily taken his head off, but… well, I don't know if I'd want that hangin' on my conscience. He's still one o'… one o' you guys, right?"

"Not anymore," Zell growled. "But right now, we've got way bigger issues. We've gotta stop those missiles from firing."

"I heard 'bout that from the general before he sent me t'come get Rinoa. The AI guidance tech the army's usin' is still pretty new. It's never been tested fer cross-continental targets at that kinda distance, since ya can't do somethin' like that without startin' up a whole 'nother war. They're gonna use Trabia fer the test strike, an' then hit Balamb once they've got a read on the accuracy."

"Do you know where that missile base is?!" Selphie frantically pestered him. "I just transferred from Trabia! I can't just sit around knowing they're being dragged into this!"

"It's a long ways northwest from here, up on the very edge o' the desert. Probably take a few hours t'get there, at least."

"Then there's no time to waste! We've gotta get out there and stop that launch!"

"First things first, Selphie," Quistis reeled her in. "As SeeDs, Balamb Garden's safety is always our number one priority. We need to split up into two teams. One for the missile base, the other to head back home. We have to warn the headmaster and the administration to evacuate in case things don't go as planned."

"How?!" Zell blurted out. "We're on another continent! There's no way we'd be able make it back before they launch!"

"They'll be standing by for confirmation of a successful hit on Trabia. If the infiltration team can slow them down long enough, it might be possible. We hijack a prison supply train from the depot we were dropped off at, and gun it to Timber. From there, we take my assault boat back across the ocean… provided it hasn't been discovered. It's a long shot, but it's the only real option we have."

Isn't that the saddest thing I've heard all day…

"So, who's going where?" Selphie urged. "I want on the missile base team. They've made this personal for using my old home as target practice!"

"What'dya say, Mister Leader?" Irvine craned his neck back to Squall. The other four sets of eyes all turned to him.

Now more than ever, the burden of leadership was too much to bear. It had brought him to the dreaded crossroads he'd hoped never to be left standing at. How could he be expected to make such a call? It was not that he had no answer; logic dictated only one sensible ordering for both teams. Even so, the ultimate question remained: could he accept the accountability should those sent to the missile base be captured or killed?

"Squall, it's up to you," Quistis reminded him. "You're still the operation leader here."

I've had it up to here with this leader thing… alright.

"The Garden return team will be myself, Quistis, and Rinoa," he announced. "Zell, Selphie, Irvine… stop those missiles."

A hush fell over the vehicle interior. Squall darted his eyes about, taking stock of his teammates' reactions. Zell and Selphie shared a glance with one another, before their eyes promptly flitted back and forth between Quistis and Rinoa. The girl in blue swiveled back around to face the windshield with a huff. Reluctant though they all seemed to be, the teams couldn't be arranged any differently.

Rinoa had no business being sent into the fray. Quistis, on top of being the only one who could lead them to the boat she'd docked, still held substantial repute within the Garden, which would give further credence to their story. Only Irvine knew the way to the missile base. Zell's mechanical aptitude would be essential in sabotaging the launch proceedings. That left only their alleged transfer student, who possessed a Guardian Force which by all accounts should not have existed. It was obvious she could no longer be trusted. However much he would have preferred to keep her grouped with him, it was simply impossible given the circumstances. He would instead have to rely on Zell to both lead the operation and keep an eye on her.

I stand corrected… that's the saddest thing I've heard all day…

Chapter Text

The transport ground to a halt in the shadow of the looming water tower. Zell unbuckled his seat belt, pulled his helmet back over his head, and threw open the side door. He stepped out onto the coarse, shifting sand, the morning sun beating down on him from beyond the rusted pipeline running east. He was grateful for the visor; the glare reflecting off the sand might have proven too much for his naked eyes.

He shut the door behind him, and turned his attention to the red-brick guardhouse beside the depot entrance; though he could see no soldiers through the window, there had to be someone on duty. He sprinted towards it as fast as he could, the uneven sand requiring he exert more effort with each step. As he drew near, the gleaming silver plating of a Galbadian helmet moved by the window. Zell frantically waved his arms to catch the soldier's attention. He got what he wanted the next moment.

"Hey!" he shouted. He slowed, pointing back to their parked vehicle. "Can we get some help? Our car just stalled!"

"Hold on a sec!" the guard replied before disappearing from the window.

Zell waited impatiently. They couldn't afford a single wasted second if they were to save the Gardens from total annihilation. The door to the guardhouse swung open moments later. The soldier he'd signaled emerged, followed by a second right behind.

Just the number we need.

"C'mon!" he urged, turning back to the yellow transport. "Something's up with the engine!"

"Did you come from the prison?" one called after him. "We saw it go up in the distance a little while ago. Was there an escape attempt?"

"It's a long story!"

He came to a stop in front of the vehicle's hood, took hold, and heaved it up. The hidden sharpshooter knelt right beside the driver's side door with his shotgun drawn. With a brief nod to him, Zell intentionally fixed the hood strut in an unstable position, and stepped back to give the guard room.

"Just take a look, will ya? We need to get back, ASAP!"

"Fine, fine," the head of the two grumbled. He moved into position, hunching over the engine to examine it. "But seriously, what's goin' on over th-"

Irvine's hand shot out like a viper. He knocked the flimsy strut loose before the soldier could finish his question. The hood came crashing down on his upper back just as quickly. He let out a cry as his face and upper torso were slammed into the engine. Zell immediately thrust his hand atop the hood to keep him in place, his leather gloves keeping him protected from its searing heat. Irvine bolted up just as the baffled second guard reached for his side-arm. He froze on the spot, released his clasp on the holstered pistol, and slowly raised his arms over his head.

Zell hoisted the hood open once more, noticing a flash of yellow sneaking around from the opposite end of the vehicle as he did so. With his free hand, he heaved the crushed soldier out of the engine. He limply fell to the sand on his back. His companion went down the next second, courtesy of two nunchaku bars to the back of the neck. With both guards dispatched, the transport's side door swung open. Squall and Quistis ducked their heads as they stepped out to join them.

"That went surprisingly well," their leader in black observed. "Let's get them out of their uniforms and hide the bodies."

"Yes, sir!" Selphie saluted.

The girl knelt down to the guard she'd incapacitated and went to work. Following her example, Zell reached for the second at his feet. He removed the helmet, taking note of the fresh burn marks on the lower, exposed half of his face where the engine's heat had scalded him. With the blow to his back from the hood, he likely wouldn't be back on his feet for at least a few weeks.

Irvine assisted in removing the attire and various effects from the unconscious man. Zell gathered them in his arms as the sharpshooter hoisted his body up in his own. He trailed after Quistis and Selphie, themselves lugging the other undressed soldier back to the guard house. Squall stowed his appropriated uniform in the vehicle. Rinoa had yet to move from her spot in the passenger's seat; she clearly wasn't happy with the assigned groupings.

"You sure you're gonna be able to figure out how to work one of those engines?" Zell asked. "Maybe I oughta come instead of Quistis?"

"How are we going to find her ship without her?" Squall bluntly replied.

"I… guess you've got a point."

"I'm leaving command of the infiltration team to you," he expounded. "And also… I want you to keep a close eye on Selphie at all times."

"Huh? What for?"

"There's no time to explain. But whatever happens, don't let her go wandering off on her own."

"Uh… sure, if that'll make you happy."

He looked back to the guard station. The girl in question and their two other comrades hastily jaunted across the sand towards them. Though Selphie's aptitude with her Guardian Force surprised him, he had no reason to suspect her of any wrongdoing. Squall was surely being paranoid. Given the recent rapid-fire turn of events however, he could hardly blame him.

"All set," the girl announced.

Usually so giddy, her seriousness unsettled Zell. With the Gardens' safety hanging in the balance, the time for cheer was long past.

"Are we ready?" Rinoa asked. She finally stepped out of the passenger's side door to join them.

"Looks like it," Squall confirmed.

"Then I guess this is where we part ways," Quistis sighed as she joined him. "Take care, you three. Remember to keep your heads down, and stay vigilant at all times. We're counting on you."

"Yes, ma'am!" Zell saluted. Selphie and Irvine did likewise.

"Keep your focus on the objective," Squall followed up, his eyes firmly fixed to Zell. "And each other."

Something tells me I oughta be saying the same to you.

Zell briefly glanced between the two disenfranchised women. He said nothing, and released the salute with a nod.

"Let's go," Squall commanded.

He spun on his heel towards the depot entryway. Quistis and Rinoa followed after, taking great pains to maintain the distance between one another.

"Y'all heard the man," Irvine spoke. He turned back to the vehicle, and grabbed one of the two uniforms. "Let's suit up an' get goin'."

"Lemme in!" Selphie pushed her way past him. "And so help me, if I catch either of you peeking, I'll beat you so bad you won't wake up 'till we get there!"

'At all times'… sorry bud, not about to go there…

The sprawling desert stretched on as far as the eye could see. Sparse groupings of prickly cacti sprung up across the desolate terrain every so often. Zell couldn't have been more appreciative for the transport's air conditioner; the sun had since climbed to its apex high above. They rumbled on as fast as the engine would reasonably allow. Irvine, suited up in his new uniform, had scarcely ever taken his foot off the accelerator. Craning his neck back, Zell glanced at the second, far more petite impostor seated behind him among their stripped casual wear. She kept her eyes fixed to the window. Whether out of boredom or unease, he couldn't tell.

It had been just under 4 hours since their departure from the prison way-station. As they'd pulled away, he'd seen the other team's locomotive go speeding off along the tracks due east. Being on a similar latitude with Timber as Deling City was with Galbadia Garden, the 5 hour ride they'd taken into the city two days before was as good an indicator as any for their ETA. With a faster average speed and lack of stops, they could feasibly cut close to an hour off of the trip. Regardless, their return across the ocean would take longer still.

Soon, the missile base came into view through the windshield. A thick steel wall surrounded the premises on all sides. Straining his eyes, he spotted several looming containment tanks peeking over top. Whatever their contents, be it oil, or some other flammable liquid propellant, he and Selphie would need to exercise extreme caution with their GFs. A single mishandling of the energy could be liable to send the entire compound up in a blazing pyre. While doing so would guarantee the Gardens' safety, Zell didn't relish the thought of blowing himself sky-high in the process. Even at their present range, the risk remained too steep; he couldn't guess at the potential blast radius, nor the amount of shrapnel. A more delicate, deliberate approach was in order.

"Lemme handle the talkin' when we pull up," Irvine said. "I've got somethin' that should make our job a whole lot eas-"

A sudden volley of hissing thrusters interrupted him. Zell turned his attention back out the windshield. His mouth fell open as roughly a dozen streams of white smoke soared off into the sky from the base's inner grounds. The missiles' high-pitched screeching was audible even from afar. He squinted his eyes against the sun high above, tracing their intertwining tails as they sped off due northeast. All was silent, the pit in his stomach now bottomless.

He turned back to the young girl in the bulky, ill-fitting uniform behind him. Though he couldn't see her eyes hidden behind her visor, her pursed mouth just below told him everything. Her head dipped down towards the floor. He prepared to console her, but stopped. He couldn't find the right words. There were likely none to be found, no matter how desperately he racked his brain.

"Selphie," Irvine spoke in his stead. "I'm… I'm really sorry."

"That… that was a miss… right?" she muttered lowly, her voice hollow. "It has to be… yeah, you said they're still untested, right? There's no way they'd get all the kinks worked out the first time, right? As long as there's a chance…"

She trailed off, seemingly lost in her own disjointed thoughts. Zell turned away to give her time to grieve, and redirected his eyes back to the fast approaching complex. The wispy exhaust trails had yet to clear. At their current pace, it would be less than a minute before they arrived at the front gate. With the first salvo directed for Trabia now airborne, any potential safety net for the return team had been wiped away. No matter the cost, they could not allow Balamb Garden to meet the same fate. Irvine let the vehicle slow to a leisurely cruise as they neared the guard station.

"Like I was sayin', I've got somethin' that should get us in, no questions asked."

"Whatever works," Zell replied.

His nerves were starting to get the better of him. Over the course of their hours-long journey, he'd mulled over every possible ruse they could make use of. He'd settled on passing themselves off as a last-minute supply transport, carrying additional warheads for the launch. Without a delivery form however, the idea was sketchy at best. Irvine seemed confident enough, though. The vehicle's tires ground to a stop on the paved entryway. He lowered the window to meet the waiting sentry at the checkpoint.

"State your business," the guard demanded.

"What's this tell ya right here?"

He pulled up a gleaming gold badge in the image of the Galbadian crest. A faint line of text ran across the bottom; it moved out of Zell's sight too quickly for him to read.

"Orders from the top. We need to speak with the commander. Now."

"U-understood, sir!"

The soldier ducked back into his station. After some fiddling with the gate controls, the striped yellow and black guard rail rose, clearing the way. Irvine guided them through into the compound proper.

Craning his neck all around, Zell took in the sprawling open expanse. Groups of soldiers scurried to and fro across the pavement. Some trailed off to the hangar bays across the premises, others to the central complex entrance directly ahead. Several armored, tank-like mechs were parked side by side just within the open gateway; each sported six large turbine engines jutting upward from their bulky, blue-plating. To the right was a wide fenced-off enclosure. Three hulking missile launchers stood poised to the midday skies, the white smoke having finally dissipated from their muzzles. They resided within separate, evenly spaced divots, sinking deep into the earth where the technical operation center presumably lay.

"Pretty slick, huh?" Irvine said as he parked the vehicle just beside. He brought up the golden emblem he'd shown to the guard. "Little somethin' I got from the general, when he sent me to bail out Rinoa. His personal seal o' executive permission, an' our free pass into wherever he wants us to go."

"Or wherever we say he does," Zell acknowledged. "Good to know they still recognize his authority."

"Fer now. Probably not gonna stay that way much longer, though. He's expectin' to be relieved of command by the end o' the day. That's why he said I had to hurry."

"Well, it's worked wonders so far. Still, start waving that thing around too much, and it's probably gonna look suspicious."

"Sure. Let's jus' cross that bridge when we come to it."

Zell unbuckled his seat belt as Irvine killed the ignition. He opened the door, and stepped out on the pavement. As he turned back to shut it, he glanced in the back seat. Selphie hadn't budged an inch.

"Coming, Selphie?"

She slowly raised her head, unbuckled her seat belt, and inched her way to the side door. She swung it open and lowered herself. Her knees refused to bend naturally; each of the over-sized pant legs concealed half of her severed nunchaku. The additional volume helped to compensate for how big the uniform was on her. Its upper half sagged off her skinny frame, appearing slovenly and unkempt.

"How do I look?" she asked. Her voice was quiet, barely audible over Irvine's boots scuffling as he rounded the vehicle.

"Maybe… you oughta stick behind us," he gently suggested.

"Y'know, there was a time I used to dream 'bout this," Irvine said. "What it'd be like to step into this uniform fer the first time. An' now… I don't feel anythin'. It's kinda eerie."

"If you only knew who'd be running the show," Zell quipped. His eyes were drawn to the bullet belt around his waist. "You sure that's not gonna be too much of a giveaway?"

"Nah, plenty o' new recruits from the Garden carry over their old gear. Besides, if I were in your boots, I'd be more worried 'bout coverin' my own ass. If ya know what I mean."

Zell grimaced. He'd completely forgotten about the gruel stains on the back of his uniform. They had long since dried, though surely still left glaring damp spots.

"Guess I'll be the one taking point, then," he volunteered. "Let's go."

The three moved out from the vehicle, and crossed to the doorway of the central control center. The building, though wide, was only a single story tall. Given that the missile launchers extended underground, Zell assumed the base did likewise. He stepped on through into the dimly-lit antechamber. The short flight of stairs led down to an airlock set into the wall. A control panel beside it bore a thin horizontal slot for an identification card to be inserted. He approached, rustling about his utility belt for his appropriated ID. He found it, and inserted it into the slot. A muted buzz sounded from the speaker. The indicator light above turned red.

"Figures," he sighed, withdrawing the card. "You two wanna take a shot?"

He backed up to give Irvine leeway. Again, no luck. Selphie finally stumbled forward to try her hand. Like clockwork, the indicator turned red for a third time.

"Not one?" Selphie exhaled. She retracted her card in disbelief.

"Jus' 'cause ya work at the prison, don't mean ya get t'stroll on into wherever ya like," Irvine reasoned. "Guess we hang here 'till someone else comes along, an' give 'em the ol' general's orders spiel again."

"Looks that way," Zell muttered.

"Well, if no one feels like waiting, we could always just say to hell with subtlety and blow the door down," Selphie said. "You and me, we summon our GFs and tear this place apart right now."

"You do realize the kind of warheads they've got stowed here, right?" Zell shot her an astounded look. "Plus those huge containment tanks outside. I didn't sign up for a suicide mission, so don't go getting antsy. Let's just play it cool for now."

"Okay, okay, I hear you. It's just… now that they've already fired at Trabia… I just want to make these guys pay. Dearly."

Her tone was sharp, her words biting. Perhaps Squall's paranoia hadn't been unfounded after all.

"I do not need this right now!"

The muffled, agitated roar came from beyond the sealed airlock. Its timbre perked Zell's ears, and sent a chill down his spine; he would have recognized that voice anywhere. The door hissed open moments later, revealing the traitorous knight in grey. Instantly, Zell was overcome by fury comparable to Selphie's.

"Sir Seifer!" a soldier trailed behind his coattails. "Please calm yourself! Sorceress Edea has directly charged you with overseeing the proceedings. What will she think if you abandon your post?"

"If you dolts can't manage without me holding your hands, what good are you?!" he snapped. "I don't have time to waste sitting around here. Not when our only lead on that girl is loose! Not to mention that damn sphere."

Zell sidestepped out of their path. Selphie and Irvine behind them cautiously sidled their way inside the door.

"I understand your frustration, sir," the soldier pleaded. "But I can't imagine the sorceress taking kindly to insubordination."

"She'll be far more upset if we don't get those prisoners back! And since when do you have the rank to speak to me about insubordination?! Get back to your post!"

Seifer pivoted and turned away from the verbally abused grunt. His fierce eyes next landed on Zell.

"What're you looking at?! You'll stay out of my way if you know what's good for you, understand?"

"Y-yes, sir!" Zell saluted. He bit his tongue to hold back his disgust.

Seifer snorted derisively, and hastily proceeded past him up the short flight of steps to the exit. Zell released the pose and raced ahead through the open airlock. He emerged onto a narrow metal catwalk overlooking a steep drop into the depths. Though it was nowhere near the height of the D-District Prison's shaft, the slender railing gave him little comfort. He pushed onward past a rickety staircase to meet his friends at a nearby freight elevator.

"Talk about a lucky break," Irvine muttered. "Ya think they're gonna hold off on firin' 'till he gets back?"

"Wouldn't that be nice," Zell mused as the hum of the lift drew closer. "But somehow, I doubt it. For now, let's see if there's anything we can do to buy ourselves even more time."

The elevator came to a halt on their level. He stepped aboard after his teammates, and scanned over the interior panel. A meager three basement levels made up the selection. Presuming the central control station to be somewhere on the upper levels, he pressed the first button beneath their own floor. The shutters drew closed, and they began to descend. The evenly spaced fluorescent lamps along the way were their only light.

After about 30 seconds, the lift slowed to a stop. It reopened to a spacious elevated storage area. Various crates and containers lay strewn about, many already relieved of their contents and left to be collected. The encircling railing, here significantly sturdier, gave way to a view of the lower level. Zell strode forward to peek over the edge. A swarm of soldiers and technicians scurried about the operations center below, darting from one console to another.

"Looks like all the action's down there," Irvine commented.

"Yeah, but it's not gonna be easy to keep a low profile in a crowd that big," Zell said. "Let's look for someplace more secluded. Like, if we could find where the launchers are stored for loading."

"Makes no difference to me," Selphie muttered. She'd already managed to improve her footwork in lieu of the concealed nunchaku halves. "If there's anything we can break, we break it. End of story."

This really isn't the same girl anymore, is it?

"Long as we're bein' sly 'bout it, ya won't hear any complaints from me," Irvine said.

Zell led them away from the railing to a doorway across the platform. Beyond lay a network of dank, rusted corridors, intertwining and branching off in every direction. Patrols were irregular, though he kept himself at the front of the group at all times. Besides covering the soup stains on his rear, he hoped he could help give Selphie's scrawny figure more cover. None paid them any mind.

As they continued on, he reflected on how unbelievably quickly things had spiraled out of control. He'd thought nothing of being sent out on his first official mission 6 days earlier. He'd assumed it would be a relatively easy, in-and-out assignment to ease them all into their new life as SeeDs. Instead, they'd been charged with abducting a world leader, which had then segued into an assassination plot against a real-life sorceress. Now, the fate of the Garden itself rested on his shoulders. That he could somehow find the strength to push forward was most incredible of all.

"Whatd'ya think 'bout this over here?"

Zell stopped in his tracks. He glanced to the door Irvine had indicated. The plaque set beside it read 'Generator Room' in bold font.

"Wanna cause a blackout? That oughta buy us a good chunk o' time."

"It's a start," Zell acknowledged.

With no keycard slot, he gripped the handle, and heaved the sliding door ajar. He peeked his head through carefully. Three large monitors, each the size of a bay window, were affixed to the opposite wall. They displayed all manner of diagnostic information, the perplexing mishmash a challenge even for him to make heads or tails of. A thick glass pane bordered by yellow and black caution markers was set into the right-hand wall. A massive industrial generator loomed on the other side. Its humming core pulsed a luminous yellow, steady and consistent. There was no sign of human occupancy. As he took a step inside however, he noticed a security camera situated in the far corner, trained down towards the door and generator.

"Camera," he hissed. "Act natural."

He strolled on through, making for the central console under the middle screen. Provided he could figure out how to shut it down quickly enough, base surveillance probably wouldn't have time to notice them on the feed before the power went out.

"Ya got any idea how to work this stuff?" Irvine asked.

"Gimme a sec."

He rapidly scanned his eyes over the controls. It was his first time dealing with such a complex array. Surely there had to be a master switch somewhere among it all. Before he could deduce its location, he was abruptly shoved out of the way.

"What the…?!"

He stumbled, righted himself, and craned his neck back. Selphie had stepped forward, her hand outstretched over the console. Instantly, a crackle of electricity surged forth from her palm. She slammed it down on the keyboard. Sparks flew as it began to short-circuit.

"What are you doing?!" he shouted, instantly losing his composure.

Zell stared on in horror as the lightning energy surged through the control system. The data on the screens warped and mangled into an even more incoherent mess of gibberish. The next moment, a shroud of darkness fell over the room. Through his helmet's visor, he was completely blind save for the sparks still coming from the console. The generator's omnipresent hum died out with it. All was silent. Just as abruptly, dim red emergency lights switched on from above.

"Electrical system malfunction!" a voice shot to life over the intercom system, causing Zell to jolt in place. "Emergency generators have been engaged. Maintenance team, investigate immediately."

"We need to get out of here, now!" Zell commanded.

He spun on his heel towards the door. He heaved it open, and took off down the now darkened hallway. The hurried footfalls of his teammates followed close behind. His heart raced as he came to the first intersection. He ducked his head around each corner to check for sentries, and hung a left. He glanced back for a head count. The two were evidently on edge themselves, their visors darting every which way. They routinely flickered in and out of his peripheral vision, swathed in the shadows from the emergency lighting.

After roughly two minutes of navigating the winding halls, with the fortune not to have run across any further patrols, they'd retraced their steps to the storage platform. Zell guided them to take cover behind a hulking metal container.

"Alright," Selphie panted. "That should stall 'em for at least a few hours. So, what's next?"

"Are you trying to get us caught?!" Zell harshly whispered. "Now they're gonna be on high alert!"

"They were bound to catch on at some point. It just means we're gonna have to keep a low profile from here on out. What counts is we've already thrown a major wrench in their plans."

"Did we really hafta leave that big a trail for 'em, though?" Irvine reasoned; clearly, he and Zell were on the same wavelength.

"Can't be helped," she huffed. "Anyway, the three of us walking around joined at the hip is probably gonna draw too much attention now. I think we'd better split up."

"You expect me to trust you on your own after that?" Zell shot her down. "No way. And besides, you think you're not gonna stick out the way you look?"

"With the lights out, it'll be a lot harder to notice. Heck, I could barely even see the stains on your rear a minute ago. Come on, Zell. I promise I'll be more careful."

He crossed his arms in disapproval, recalling the duty Squall had entrusted him with. How foolish he'd been to so easily write his concerns off. Now, his logical mind screamed at him not to let Selphie out of his sight. And yet, in the wake of the damage she'd done, she was absolutely right. Three tightly-knit soldiers would draw far more attention now; should they manage to recover the security footage from the camera, they would see as much right before the feed cut out. For the sake of the mission, it was best they spread out from one another. He glanced back around the edge of the container to the freight elevator.

"I'll take the bottom level. You two each pick one of the other floors. This'll be our rendezvous point if they manage to get the generator back on. Stay alert, and don't do anything reckless. Understood?"

"Ya don't have to tell me," Irvine quipped.

"It won't happen again," Selphie swore. She brought up her hand to perform the SeeD salute. "I promise."

Sorry, Squall…

Chapter Text

The assault boat's cabin bobbed and jerked with each wave it crested. Squall held onto the armrest to steady himself. Though he'd never been prone to seasickness, the circumstances had caused a swirling pit in his stomach all the same. It was beyond even the dread he'd felt upon their withdrawal from Dollet; so much more than his standing at the Garden was at stake now. Rinoa sat across from him. She'd kicked up her black boots on the central commode, and slumped back in her seat. Her own fingers dug into the upholstery, holding on for dear life just as he.

No matter their discomfort, signaling to Quistis up in the cockpit to slow down was not an option. They already had her to thank for getting them to the southern coast of Timber's Rancor Plains within 4 hours. Given their standing as fugitives, making their way into town to try calling the Garden had been out of the question. They'd left the stolen locomotive on the tracks nearest the shore. From there, she'd guided them to the narrow cove where she'd docked the boat 5 days earlier. Fortune had favored them thus far, but Squall knew better than to get complacent. There was still half the journey to go.

Furthermore, there was Selphie to consider. He'd intentionally neglected to return her wallet, and waited to give Quistis back hers until they were aboard the train. Once on the ship, he'd been at leisure to go through it. A few thousand gil, her fake ID from the original assignment, and her real Garden-issued one were all he found. He held the latter in his free hand now, looking it over for even the smallest discrepancy. Her name and picture matched up, as did her date of enrollment just less than a month earlier. At a glance, there was no cause for suspicion. And yet, there undeniably was. Where had that Galbadian GF sphere come from?

"Ah!"

He glanced up from the card to Rinoa; the latest bump had indeed been a rough one. She swiftly righted herself, and looked across to him.

"You don't think she's doing this on purpose, do you?"

"Only to get us back as fast as possible," he answered, stowing the ID in his jacket pocket. "And even then, it still might not be enough."

"Yeah, I get it," she muttered. "Still… I get the feeling she wouldn't mind freaking me out like this."

"She does have a juvenile streak under it all, but I doubt it. She takes everything seriously in the field."

"You don't have to tell me that."

Their exchange was one of very few since they'd left the depot; she'd barely spoken a word to either him or Quistis the entire way. Perhaps it was on account of having interfered with their plans in Deling City. Or perhaps she simply recognized there was nothing for her to contribute.

"Listen, Squall," she started up again. "I… I know you must have a lot on your mind right now. And I know, to you, I'm probably just one more burden you'd rather not have to worry about."

No argument there.

"I don't want you to feel obligated about keeping me safe, or following our contract. I understand there are way more important things going on now. But… well, I know how seriously you take yourself. So, I've decided… I'm going to let you off the hook, officially. Once all of this hopefully blows over, and the Garden is safe, I'm going to ask Cid to nullify our contract."

Squall welcomed her sound rationale. Given the rapid escalation of world affairs, her faction's fight to liberate Timber had become inconsequential overnight. Galbadia's occupied territory was soon to expand even further. Without SeeD to halt the advance, the other nations of the world would inevitably buckle to Edea's conquest.

"But don't think this means I'm trying to get out of this mess for my own sake," she continued. "I'm not running away. I still want to help, in any way I can. If that's okay with you."

"You've already helped enough," he replied, the lack of sarcasm in his voice surprising even himself. "You convinced that guy to turn back around and break us out. That was a huge help."

Such praise was uncharacteristically sincere of him, but deserved. Even if he and his fellow SeeDs had managed to escape on their own, they would have had no idea where the missile base was. Their afforded window of opportunity, however small, was largely owed to her. Whether it would make any difference in the grand scheme of things remained to be seen.

"Oh," she lightly blushed. "Uh… thanks. It wasn't anything big, really. I was just worried you'd think something like, 'No one has ordered me to escape', and end up sitting in there, doing nothing. False alarm, huh?"

She chuckled to herself from across the cabin. Squall's irritation flared up again. The blaze was squelched as he closed his eyes, letting the bobbing waves lull him back into what scant calm he could find. Rinoa's jab was likely her own way of doing the same; what she'd faced the night before would have been too much for most to handle. There was nothing he could do now except bide the remaining hours ahead on the open sea. Regardless of whether Selphie could still be trusted, or if the infiltration team as a whole could stop the launch, any control over the situation was now out of his hands.

They'll make it happen. They have to. Please don't make me have to carry that kind of burden…

"Three, two, one, heave!"

Zell hunkered his shoulder against the launcher's heavy frame, and shoved with the soldiers to his right. Their feet slipped on the floor as they fought to focus their momentum. Any squeaking from their boots was drowned out by the creaking of the launcher's treads. It inched forward into position at an agonizingly slow pace. Two just like it were already set into their designated indents further along, each a testament to their backbreaking work for the last hour and a half.

Since having parted with Selphie and Irvine 5 hours earlier, Zell had taken up reconnaissance of the base's lower level. The generator was still offline; however reckless she'd been, Selphie's sabotage had done plenty to slow them down. Unsurprisingly, the base was put on total lockdown. He'd spent most of his time since in and around the central control hub, not daring to venture far off the beaten path for fear of garnering suspicion. That an intruder alert had yet to be sounded assured him the others were faring well enough.

With the emergency back-up generators engaged, the technicians' work in the control center had recommenced, albeit at a far slower pace. What scant power they now had was only enough to keep three or four workstations online at a time. It was nowhere near the amount needed to operate the launchers' automated loading systems. And so, after several long hours with no significant progress by the repair team, he and several other grunts had been tasked with manually loading the warheads.

He could have made the job easier on himself by using his GF's power to augment his physical strength. The risk it presented to his disguise notwithstanding, he had no reason to speed along preparations. Momentary exhaustion would be nothing compared to life-long regret should they fail to save Balamb Garden.

Finally, the launcher slid into position. Zell and the troops let go with a collective sigh of relief.

"Holy hell," the nearest soldier groaned. He slumped to the floor, his back pressed to the launcher. "We better be gettin' overtime for this shit."

"Damn straight," another down the line agreed. "I swear, if they suddenly get the power back on any minute now…"

"Still no word on who caused it, though," one of the others piped up.

"Take a wild fucking guess! It's gotta be those SeeDs that brat went storming off after! I just hope I get to see his face when he finds out they turned up the minute he left. That witch'll have his hide."

"How're you sure its them?" Zell casually asked. "Maybe someone just said 'to hell with it', and went rogue."

"Maybe," the first soldier who'd spoken said. "And I haven't heard about anything else getting trashed. You think whoever it was just shorted the generator and flew the coop?"

"What's it matter?" the irritable second countered. "Whoever did it, they've pissed me off. Let's just get outta here. Soon as the power's back on, we're launching. We're already way behind schedule."

"What about the Trabia strike?" Zell nervously prodded. "We still haven't gotten word, right?"

"It's been hours. Once the power's back, we just gotta flip on the news feed, and we'll know in an instant."

"SeeD probably already does," another cut in. "How long d'ya think it takes a story like that to go international? They've probably already evacuated. Kinda puts all this heavy lifting to waste, huh?"

Several murmurs of agreement sprung up among the other soldiers. With nothing more to say, they all shuffled back across the hangar to the steel entryway. Zell remained standing by his lonesome, left to consider for the first time how the world-wide media coverage could well have served their cause already. News of the missile strike, successful or not, would be broadcast over every HD cable feed for at least a full 24 hour cycle. Surely Balamb Garden's intelligence committee would be on top of the story as soon as it broke.

He turned from the prepped missile launchers and started back towards the door. So long as the lives of its students were secure, the Garden could always be reconstructed. SeeD would persevere against any and all adversity, just as it had for more than a decade. The unfortunate sacrifice of Trabia Garden paired with their own sabotage had ultimately bought the student body enough time to escape. Perhaps it was time for the three of them to make their own exit.

As he passed through into the connecting hallway, he glanced down at the console beside the door. It was the data upload terminal for the missiles' integrated AI system. A mass of intertwining cables ran from its rear, into the floor, and onward to the three launchers in the next room. From what he'd gleaned from his fellow workers, the precise coordinate input was to be manually uploaded to the server via USB drive, by which the console would allow the data to be transmitted directly to the launchers. Besides anything out of Odine Industries, it was some of the most advanced technology he'd ever seen.

The lack of station-wide power was all that kept Zell from tampering with it. Though the Garden's coordinates might not have been uploaded just yet, there was the chance he could fiddle with the default error ratio, and send the missiles flying off course. In doing so, he could potentially ensure the Garden's safety. Alas, the console was useless to him without the main generator back online.

He turned away back down the hall, pondering how best to track down Selphie and Irvine. They'd done all they feasibly could. It was time to regroup and make their getaway. Just then, an explosion of light struck his eyes. He instinctually raised his hand, only to find his visor was up to the task. The burst hadn't come from a flashbang, nor any magical incantation, but the fluorescent lights on the ceiling blinking back to life all at once.

A few moments later, he suddenly realized the opportunity he'd been handed. With power restored, and no one else around to stop him, he now had a chance to turn his daydreaming into reality. He spun around, and dashed back down the hall. His boots pounded on the linoleum floor as the intercom system crackled to life.

"Main generator back online. All personnel, take your positions for launch."

He reached the console just as the announcement concluded. He switched on the monitor, and waited impatiently for the screensaver to disperse. It soon gave way to a green-tinted, digital representation of the world map. A banner reading 'The Galbadia Republic Army Dept.' ran across the top. The left side showed a blue scroll-down menu with several command options listed. 'Target' was the first among them. He tapped it on the touchscreen. A new text window opened up, prompting him for an access code. He hit the cancel command, and began looking for an alternative. His eyes soon landed on an option titled 'General Settings'.

Another tap on the tab brought up several different indicators; the data displayed ran the gamut from basic display options to readouts of diagnostic information. He scanned over the selection, and finally pressed the one reading 'Targeting Calibration'. A single gauge popped up, showing the error-correction ratio fixed to its maximum setting. With a swipe of his index finger, he lowered the calibration to its lowest level, and pressed the confirm prompt.

"State your business, soldier!"

Zell bolted upright. His heart leapt into his throat as he quickly tapped the return icon in the upper right-hand corner; the screen reset back to the home page. He turned to see the base commander in his bulky red uniform come striding down the hall; he'd briefly run across him in the control center, before his assignment to the launcher bay.

"Sir!" he saluted. "I was merely checking to make sure the targeting systems were back online… and that no settings had been wiped clear by the blackout."

He stood face to face with the commander for an uncomfortably long time, the piercing stare from behind the visor boring straight through him. He didn't dare release the salute prematurely.

"At ease," he ordered. Zell lowered his arm from his forehead, and allowed himself to breathe again. "Is everything in order?"

"Yes, sir! No issues as far as I could tell. Permission to return to the control center, sir?"

"Granted."

The commander stepped aside to allow him passage. Gracious for his quick wit, Zell strode on past, casual as he could be. With any luck, the newly adjusted settings wouldn't be checked before the launch. Hopefully it would be enough to send the missiles careening off course and into the sea.

"In fact, why don't you let me show you the way?" the commander growled.

Zell's helmet was yanked clear off before he could react; his neck jerked back as it left his head. The next moment, a steel barrel pressed against the back of his hair. He froze on the spot.

"Hands up! That salute was completely wrong! And what is that crap on the back of your uniform? You're the most pathetic excuse for an intruder I've ever met."

What's that say about the rest of your men?

He didn't dare speak his thoughts. Instead, he slowly raised his arms up over his head as ordered. There was no way for him to activate his GF sphere without drawing attention.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't blow a hole through your head right now," the commander snarled.

"Because I'm not alone," he blurted out on pure instinct.

"How many? Tell me!"

"And where would the fun be in that?"

The pistol-whip cracked across his head like clockwork. He grit his teeth, stifling the urge to retaliate; one false move would be the end for him.

"Alright, smart-ass. Have it your way. Let's go!"

Zell stumbled forward with a forceful shove to the back. He begrudgingly let himself be marched down the hallway. As they retraced their steps back to the main control hub, a pair of soldiers approached from the other direction. Their jaws dropped at the sight of their commander and his captive.

"Caught this brat tampering with the upload terminal," he said. "Check it over, and make sure everything's in order."

"Yes, sir!" they both saluted.

Zell noticed the considerably more narrow angle formed between their sides and forearms; it pained him to realize such a minor discrepancy had been his undoing. The two sidled on by as he was pressed further down the hall.

Eventually, they came to the control center. The technicians and soldiers bounced from one reactivated workstation to another with renewed vigor, only stalling as they took notice of him. Several drew their firearms. The commander lowered his own, ambling over to an intercom system set beside the primary console array.

"Attention, all personnel!" his voice boomed over the PA. "We have a confirmed capture of an intruder within the base. We have reason to believe there are still an undetermined number more at large. Stay vigilant, and do not leave your designated area. Estimated time of launch is T-minus 10 minutes. So, if you little twerps can hear this, we've got your friend down here in the control center. You've got that long to turn yourselves in before we put a bullet through his spiked dome!"

He angrily jammed the toggle button to cut the feed. He then turned back to Zell, now surrounded by three assault rifle barrels.

"You from that Garden?" he asked in a derisive, mocking tone. "Hope you made some good memories back home, because pretty soon that's gonna be all you'll have left of it."

Zell did not speak a word, no matter how many venomous insults he longed to spew. He likewise stifled the urge to gloat on how the student body had likely already evacuated. He had no intention of becoming a martyr.

For several more minutes he stood in place with his hands over his head. The launch preparations continued all around him, the screens of the many workstations alight with streams of code and statistics. Before long, a slim USB drive was ejected from the central console and presented to the commander. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for the technician to take it to the data upload terminal. The atmosphere remained tense. Soldiers' heads swiveled between one another, ready for any sign of an incoming ambush. Zell could only hope one was on its way, and preferably with more finesse than Selphie had displayed in the generator room.

"Sir!" the technician saluted on his return. "The coordinate data has been successfully uploaded. We should be ready to fire at your command."

"It's about time," the commander grumbled. "Let's finish up and get those missiles airborne. Everyone take your designated positions! Prepare for the final launch phase!"

Frenzied keystrokes and shuffling kicked up amid the consoles. Zell's three captors stood by his side all the while, their rifles rigidly pointed inward towards him. He raised his head as he heard the nearby freight elevator descending. Up above, a pair of soldiers stood just beyond the closed shutters. The shorter one to the fore was presently held at gunpoint by the second, their arms raised upward like Zell's own, allowing the sleeves of the oversized uniform to sag off.

The lift came to a stop at the bottom. The shutters parted, and the duo stepped out into the control center. The familiar shotgun with which the impostor was prodded across the divide perked Zell's deflated spirits. Likewise, the two severed nunchaku halves were now wedged in the gunman's right underarm, their chains jangling as he guided her forward to the commander.

"What the hell is this?" he snorted. "And I thought that kid's disguise was shoddy! How in the holy hell weren't you discovered sooner?"

"Up yours!" Selphie shot back. The soldiers around Zell reeled at the unexpected feminine timbre.

"Well, quite the feisty one, aren't we?" the commander scoffed, turning his attention to her disguised escort. "Don't take your finger off that trigger, soldier. And that goes for you three, too!"

He spun on his heel to face Zell's retainers. None but he and Irvine appeared to notice the sparks gathering in Selphie's raised palms; the crackling electricity was completely drowned out by the humming machinery all around the control center. She nodded to him. He signaled back with one of his own.

"I think the least we can do is let them live long enough to see all their efforts go up in smoke. We'll kill them once we've launched. I don't care what that stubborn brat needs them for. Fire when rea-"

Selphie's hands fell. Zell took the signal to drop to his knees just before the blast of lightning was released. The shockwave soared over his head, blowing the three soldiers across the room. Not waiting, Zell leapt back up, and charged straight for the commander. His right hook met the stunned officer in the jaw, sending him toppling him over just as easily. He took the opportunity to snatch up his pistol and slide it across the ground, just as the gunman to Selphie's rear handed her the two nunchaku halves.

Technicians all around frantically scrambled for cover. Zell fumbled his hand through his uniform, seized his GF sphere, and activated it. He immediately conjured a protective barrier around himself, and then a pair of earthen gauntlets around his fists. He promptly tore across the hub to the nearest control console. Shotgun fire erupted; be it near or far away, he could barely tell in his state of tunnel vision. He reached the workstation, and brought down his stone-cast fist upon it. The resulting divot and electrical sparking put the damage Selphie had done to the generator room to shame. The horrified technician cowering by its side took off as fast as he could to the staircase winding up beside the elevator.

Whizzing spellcraft and gunfire permeated the air amid myriad yelps and cries, forming a cacophonous racket devoid of rhyme or reason. The next moment, it was drowned out by a blaring alarm. Its screeching reverberated all around, climbing high to the base's upper levels. An automated announcement sounded over the intercom, too muddled by the noise for Zell to make out. With a glance towards the central console, he understood. The commander lay slouched atop, his hand pressed to a large button on the control panel.

"Game over, you little shits!" he roared over the ruckus.

Zell's heart sunk. He disengaged his gauntlets and raced over, hauling him up into a headlock.

"Shut it down, now!" he screamed into the man's ear as he throttled him from behind.

"There's… no way… to stop it!" he choked out. "The launchers are… headed up… less than… thirty seconds…"

The nunchaku cracked across his face the next moment. Zell reflexively released him from the hold. His body collapsed to the floor as Selphie began to screech with an intensity to rival the alarm.

"Where are the launchers?!"

"Down that hall!" Zell hollered. He pivoted, and charged faster than he ever had in his life.

Despite her legs being less toned than his, Selphie managed to match his pace, as though she were propelled forward by a great gust of wind whipping at her heels. Within seconds, the sealed entrance to the launch bay came into sight. A shimmering burst of pure white light shot from the girl's outstretched hand. The door was utterly obliterated on impact. Beyond its crumbling remnants, a trio of thick pillars extended upward from where Zell had helped set the loaded launchers. Selphie overtook him, and bolted on through.

"Stay back!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.

She raised her arm before her, casting a voluminous stream of ethereal aura from her hand. The swelling, amorphous energy quickly took shape, molding itself into a recognizable outline akin to a rabbit. In a flash, the small, pale-green creature that had dispatched the monster aboard the train appeared. A piercing ruby light emanated from its forehead, intensifying by the second. The glare was so brilliant, Zell soon had to squint against it. Selphie stayed in place with her arm outstretched. Her focus was absolute, unwavering in her effort to imbue as much energy as she could into one blast.

With nary a second left to spare, the tiny familiar unleashed the energy. The blinding stream enveloped the center of the nearest pillar. It sheared clean through the reinforced titanium before swiveling sideways to chisel away at the second. The unsupported beam dropped, bringing a deafening crash with it. A series of consecutive, monstrous explosions from above rocked the very foundations of the underground compound. Zell barely managed to maintain his balance. Selphie was knocked to the ground. Instantly, the outpour of energy withered and shriveled into nothingness, as did the rabbit. Large chunks of debris rained down from above, crashing all around her. Zell raced inside and grabbed her wrist.

"Come on!" he yelled, hoisting her to her feet. "We gotta move!"

He practically dragged her into the corridor. The floor continued to tremble beneath his boots all the way back to the control center. High above, yet more explosions rumbled up on the surface. Selphie's last ditch effort to stop the launch had doubtless started a chain-reaction. No matter the end result, the base's structural integrity wouldn't hold much longer.

"What the hell'd you two do?!" Irvine yelled from the foot of the metal staircase. "This place's fallin' apart!"

"Just shut up and move it!" Zell roared. He escorted the as yet silent Selphie to the stairs, and the three started up as fast as they could.

The explosions continued above, prompting yet more wreckage to come smashing down into the desecrated control center. The staircase's steel girders wobbled, very nearly sending Zell tumbling over the edge to his doom. He righted himself, sparing only a quick glance down. Flaming rubble now dotted the bottom, the notion suddenly occurring to him that only a scant few metal planks stood between him and perdition.

After roughly a minute and a half of frantic climbing, the stairs ended at the top floor where they'd entered. Irvine rushed ahead along the collapsing catwalk. Zell followed him through the open airlock, and up the last remaining staircase to the exit.

They emerged into the interior courtyard. Black smoke soared high into the sky from the nearby hangar bays, consumed by a raging wildfire spreading along the grounds towards the containment tanks at the complex's rear. Shards of scrap metal and other construction material littered the pavement, freshly settled shrapnel from the blasts. Their decimated victims' bodies lay beneath.

The team's vehicle had been utterly demolished, as was chain-link fence they'd parked it beside. The remains of two obliterated missile launchers stood in the enclosure beyond, with a gaping divot in the earth where the third had been. Most worrying of all were the still fresh streams of white smoke trailing off from where the first two had stood. They intertwined in midair, to be finally consumed by the thick smog. It was a soul-crushing omen to behold. Despite their best efforts, the first two salvos of missiles had been successfully launched.

"The door!" Irvine yelled.

Zell swept his eyes back across the mass grave. The towering gateway ahead had completely collapsed in on itself.

"Step aside!" he roared.

He leapt over the piled up mounds of debris in their path. Yet more blasts sounded from close by, now more vivid than ever. He would need to perform the summon quickly if they were to have any chance of escape.

He fought to focus his mind on channeling the energy, just as he had in Dollet as he'd faced down the rampaging spider robot. He cast his hand forward, and willed the power to leap from him. The aura obeyed. It rapidly metamorphosed into the two minotaur familiars he'd come to master. Their vibrant, violet furred bodies popped into being in a flash, and charged forward to meet the obstruction.

The gateway bulged as they slammed into it. Several more thunderous blows followed, melding with an undetermined amount of additional booms from behind. At last, the wall came tumbling down rock by shattered chunk of rock. The small landslide cascaded down on the other side. Their escape route was as clear as they could have asked for. Zell allowed the beasts to fade back into the light they'd sprung from, and turned back to his comrades.

"Let's go!"

"Love to!" Irvine called back. "But she's not budgin'!"

Selphie was slumped over on both knees by his side. Her head hung limply, her nunchaku halves fallen to the pavement.

You've gotta be kidding me!

"Selphie!" he shouted as he charged back over. He seized her wrist and jerked her up. "We don't have time! We need to get the hell outta here, now!"

"I… I couldn't do it," the girl weakly mewled. Tears streamed down her cheeks from beneath her visor. "I couldn't save Trabia, or Balamb…"

"Snap out of it! We've bought them enough time! They've probably already evacuated by now! But if we don't get moving, who's gonna save us?!"

"I can't…" she sobbed in a broken voice. "I just… I don't know what to do anymore! It's over… everything's over. Dad… I really… really wanted to see you again… but it was all for nothing… I'm-"

Her final words were drowned out by an explosive roar unlike any yet. It shook the earth beneath Zell's feet, sending him scrambling to right his footing. He raised his eyes in the direction of the blast. Billowing flames spread from an ignited fuel tank, sending each and every one of its nearby counterparts up in a raging conflagration. Time slowed to a crawl as the compound proceeded to explode all around them. There was no escape.

Mom… Squall, Quistis, Rinoa… everyone… I'm sorry. I'll miss you all. Just please… be safe…

Chapter Text

The winding motorway out of Balamb was just as Squall had traveled it many times over the years. Most recently, a week earlier, when he and his squad had burned rubber into town to catch the intercontinental express. His current return trip, with two completely different colleagues, proceeded at virtually the same pace; Quistis hadn't taken her foot off the gas pedal since they'd gotten on the road. The dense forest whipped by all around them, shrouded in the evening darkness. He glanced at his wristwatch: 20:43; a total of twelve and a half hours since they'd departed the train depot, two of which were owed to the time-zone differential.

They'd pulled into the harbor at about half past eight. It had been an exceedingly long journey, rife with dread as to what they might discover once they set foot on familiar shores. There, they'd found the car Quistis had taken out in pursuit of Seifer, still waiting for them. By the time his former instructor had guided the vehicle to the town entrance, Squall finally found the courage to breathe easy. The floating silver and gold halo shone like a beacon in the distance, just barely cresting above the treetops. Their home was still safe for the time being.

Despite the good omen, Quistis' mad tear down the expressway was unrelenting. So it had been for nearly 11 hours, whether by train, boat, or car. Whatever fatigue Squall felt, whether physically or mentally, it couldn't compare to hers. He and Rinoa had at least managed to catch a couple hours worth of sleep aboard the assault boat, once they'd finally become accustomed to the continual bumping.

Were he in Quistis' position, he doubted he would have been able to resist falling asleep at the wheel. Her willpower was beyond impressive; such was the hardened determination of a SeeD. Only then did he realize the woman he'd so casually written off as a nuisance long ago was in fact the very embodiment of what he'd aspired to be. He obviously had that much further to go to prove himself worthy of his own title.

At last, the car turned onto the final straightaway. The imposing, radiant shell of Balamb Garden stood at the end, glorious as he'd ever seen it at night. He recalled that fateful evening he'd departed for Timber, and his sinking premonition that things would never be the same once he returned. How little he'd known.

The front gates drew closer, soon coming into range of the headlights. The road curved due right just before, arcing into the nearby tunnel leading inside the parking garage. Just before Quistis could make the turn, a shimmering blast of magical aura shot up from the grounds. Several more followed in its wake, all climbing higher into the night sky. The car braked to a halt on the spot. Squall clung tightly to the cushioned passenger seat to keep himself steady.

"What was that?" Quistis wondered. She carefully guided the car over to the side of the road, placing it in park beside the guardrail before the gate.

"Maybe a signal?" Rinoa guessed from the backseat. "You think they already know about the missiles?"

"Possibly, but that doesn't fall in line with standard evacuation protocol. Perhaps someone got separated from their-"

"Hold on," Squall shushed her. "Listen."

He rolled down the passenger-side window, and perked his ears. The percussive rattling immediately became more prominent; its sheer volume and pulsing, staccato rhythm left no question as to what it was.

"Gunshots?!" Rinoa exhaled. "What's going on in there?"

"Why would they send in soldiers with the missiles on the way?" Quistis tried to make sense of it.

"There's no use wasting time out here," Squall affirmed. "Let's go."

He unbuckled himself, snatched up the gunblade at his feet, thrust open the car door, and stepped out onto the pavement. Rinoa followed his example as Quistis killed the ignition.

"Stay close to me," he ordered her.

She complied, tailing him around the hood to meet Quistis. His former instructor had preemptively drawn her whip. Together, the three surmounted the guardrail, and the short flight of steps on the other side to pass through the gate.

They emerged onto the lengthy stretch of cobbled walkway leading to the Garden's entrance. Squall darted his eyes all around, squinting through the dimness offset only by the gleaming halo above. Students and their opposition skirmished in tightly-knit groups across the grounds. Weapons' fire continued to thunder, flourished by the occasional whizzing and whirling of spellcraft. Still more combatants clashed face-to-face. Obscured by the shadows, Squall could not make out any specific details as to who the opposing force were. From what little he could tell however, none wore the signature Galbadian plated armor.

"What's going on here?!" Rinoa half-shouted over the racket.

"Just keep your head down and stay behind me!" Quistis snapped. "Let's get to the front door. Squall, keep your eyes on our rear."

He spun on his heel as she took point. He drew his gunblade, shifting his eyes in either direction; most of the isolated scuffles across the grounds were too far from their position for them to have attracted any attention yet. He backpedaled his way after the two women. Gunfire continued to sound. He reached down to his intertwined belts and engaged the sphere; that he hadn't already formed a protective barrier was purely for the sake of not being noticed.

He glanced back over his shoulder. Neatly trimmed greenery and sloshing water fountains surrounded the illuminated courtyard just before the entrance. A lone Thorn stood amid several cadets in the center. He could hear the official bellowing to them as they crept closer into earshot, though the substance of his words still eluded him for the time being. The students saluted the Thorn before breaking off in all directions. Squall reoriented himself as they drew near, hustling to stand beside Rinoa.

"Operative No. 39425, Quistis Trepe!" Quistis introduced herself. "My squad and I have just returned from assignment abroad. What's the current situation?"

"The headmaster has gone into hiding," the robed man impatiently explained. "For the safety of the Garden, he must be apprehended immediately. Dead or alive, it makes no difference. Now, move out!"

"Excuse me?!"

Quistis' surprise perfectly reflected Squall's. Clearly matters at home had taken an equally baffling turn.

"Hold up," he cut in, maneuvering himself to the front of the group. "I don't understand. What has the headmaster done to-"

The backhand cracked across his face before he could finish. His own palm instinctively shot up to cover his cheek as he turned away.

"There is no need for you to understand!" the Thorn roared. "It is not your place to question the will of the Garden Master! You will comply, or be rounded up with the rest of the insubordinates!"

'Garden Master?'

Before Squall could respond, Quistis lassoed her whip around the man's collar. She yanked downward, sending him into a hacking fit as he toppled over. He landed hard on his side. She quickly placed her boot atop his midriff to hold him down.

"SeeD answers to Headmaster Cid alone!" she declared. "Now, explain! What's going on here? Why is the headmaster being hunted?"

She hoisted up the whip, raising the Thorn's ensnared neck along with it. His circular golden headpiece fell off, revealing the man's pallid features. He wheezed as the whip constricted around his windpipe. It loosened as Quistis relaxed her grip, letting him collapse back onto the ground.

"Quickly! The lives of everyone in this Garden are at stake!"

"Hey!"

Squall turned his head. Three cadets raced out of the academy's mouth to meet them. He defensively stepped in front of Rinoa, brandishing his gunblade as they drew near.

"We've just gotten back from Galbadia," he snapped to them. "What's going on here? Why is there a manhunt on for the headmaster?"

"The headmaster is a traitor," the head of the group replied. His two colleagues began inching their hands toward their sidearms. "For the safety of the student body, he needs to be removed from power, by force if necessary."

"What are you saying?!" Quistis spluttered, retaining her choke-hold on the Thorn. "Headmaster Cid has dedicated his life to upholding this Garden! How could he possibly be a traitor?!"

"He's in league with the sorceress!" one of the two followers blurted out. "He's going to surrender us all into her clutches just to spare himself! Why else would he go into hiding once the Garden Master and Thorns caught onto his plan?"

Who is this 'Garden Master' they keep talking about?

"That doesn't make any sense!" Rinoa shot back from behind Squall. "Cid's a good man! He'd never sell out the Garden just to save himself! But, I'm begging you, please, listen to us! Everyone needs to evacuate right now! There could be-"

"Hold on!" the third student cut her off. "I recognize you!"

Squall didn't like the tone of his voice, nor the look of surprise on his face. But where could he have seen Rinoa before? The graduation ball, perhaps? The boy turned to his squadmates.

"Remember? From the broadcast? She's the one who was standing next to the sorceress before she killed the president!"

Why does it seem like we're the unluckiest people on the planet?

"Holy shit!" the leader swore in alarm. He reached over his shoulder for the large mace on his back. "You're all with Cid, aren't you?! Prepare to-"

Quistis' whip swept them all off their feet before they could finish. Squall hadn't even noticed her uncoil it from the downed Thorn's neck, much less how she'd sprung into action so quickly. They all toppled over on their backs. He raced forward to the closest, bearing down on him with his gunblade. The young man threw up his hands in surrender. Quistis closed in on the other two, swiftly subduing them before they could rise. Squall followed her example with a boot to the cadet's face.

"I don't have the slightest clue what's going on here," Quistis admitted. "But we need to get a bead on the headmaster, fast. Let's head inside!"

She bolted across the courtyard to the entrance. Squall bade Rinoa to follow after. He immediately conjured a protective barrier to keep them both safe from any stray bullets. Together, they charged straight through the turnstiles and into the spacious entrance hall. A short flight of steps led them up to the bustling central atrium, now abuzz in a manner Squall could never have imagined before.

The Garden's nexus, through which thousands of students passed every day, had become a war zone. Automatic gunfire rattled throughout the gargantuan chamber, as SeeDs and cadets exchanged fire with one another. Those not actively engaged scrambled for whatever cover they could find. Squall and his companions followed their example, ducking beneath the banister lining the walkway. Huge divots dotted the floor. The windows of the glass capsule elevators on the central platform were shattered, as were most of the fish-shaped water fountains surrounding the massive pool beneath.

"It's like a full-blown civil war!" Rinoa shouted over the battle.

"It seems like the Thorns have staged some kind of uprising against the headmaster!" Quistis remarked.

Squall stayed mum on the subject. He recalled the friction between the headmaster and his advisers from before he'd left for Timber. In hindsight, the signs of a schism forming within the Garden administration were clear as day. That it had escalated so rapidly however, to where the whole of the academy had drawn their weapons on one another, he could never have anticipated.

"Yo!"

A familiar voice called out to him. He turned his head with Quistis and Rinoa towards what remained of the central directory. The bronze, muscular heavyweight bore a fighting staff nearly as tall as himself; its handle was wrapped in thick red rope to match the one which held up his baggy black trousers. The pale, silver-haired woman beside clutched an oversized, blue chakram; 6 curved spokes protruded from its circumference.

"You made it back!" Raijin beckoned to them. "Get over here! There ain't no cover there, y'know?!"

They hastily complied. High above, twin bursts of lightning shot from the atrium's upper levels, impacting on the central pillar. The explosion drowned out the incessant gunfire, sending a large chunk of debris falling to the platform below with a thunderous crash.

"Do you two have any idea what's going on here?!" Quistis shouted over the devastation.

"No clue!" Raijin said. "It all started up real early this mornin', y'know? The Thorns up an' outta nowhere came over the intercom. They said somethin' about the headmaster bein' in cahoots with the sorceress."

"And you don't actually believe that, do you?"

"I dunno what to believe anymore, y'know? It was enough for a lotta the others, though. Now, everyone's either sidin' with the headmaster, or this 'Garden Master' they keep goin' on about."

"Disturbing!" Fujin quipped, her lone eye still swiveling to and fro.

"And whose side are you on?" Squall bluntly asked.

"We been over this back in Galbadia, y'know? We're with Seifer. Always have been, always will be."

Squall shared a quick glance with Quistis and Rinoa; both seemed to recognize the implications just as he. Although the two couldn't possibly know of Seifer's allegiance to Edea, nor even that he was still alive, their undying loyalty astounded him. With a moment's contemplation, he decided it best to keep the truth hidden from them for a while longer. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

"Have it your way. We need to find the headmaster, now. Galbadian missiles may be heading this way as we speak."

"What?!" Raijin bellowed. "Then we gotta get outta here, y'know?!"

"Evacuation!" Fujin agreed.

"Then the best thing you could do is help spread the word!" Quistis suggested. "While we search for the headmaster, you two tell everyone who'll listen that they need to start heading into town!"

"Yes, instructor!" the hulking oaf saluted; he'd either forgotten about her demotion, or simply didn't care enough to be hung up on something so trivial.

"Caution!" Fujin warned as she clipped her chakram to her belt.

"Yeah, be careful, y'know? Don't go losin' your heads! See you in town!"

Hoisting his guard staff up in one arm, the tanned muscleman charged around the atrium's outer ring. Fujin sprung into a dash just behind; she matched his pace courtesy of wind elemental spellcraft, just as Squall had practiced over the last 6 months.

"Just who is Seifer to those two?" Rinoa asked.

"Their patron saint, by the way they follow him," Squall dryly commented. "But never mind that. We need to find someone who can give us a lead on the headmaster."

"Let's try Dr. Kadowaki," Quistis suggested. "If there's anyone I'd trust to keep a cool head in a situation like this, it'd be her."

"Good point," Squall concurred. At the very least, it wouldn't be hard to determine the Garden practitioner's whereabouts.

With a careful glance in each direction, he beckoned Rinoa to follow him and Quistis clockwise around the atrium. They kept low as they approached the nearest branching path to the infirmary. As they entered the hallway, yet more fighting came into view through the windows. The interior courtyards on either side played host to a frenzied shootout. Rifle fire flashed from behind trees and bushes, momentary flickers of light in the nighttime shadows. The hallway itself, though war-torn from a previous engagement, was nearly empty. A pair of SeeDs stood guard at the infirmary entrance at the end. Squall sheathed his blade as he approached, and raised his hands as a sign of good will.

"State your business," the one to the left demanded.

"We're not here to cause any trouble," he assured them. "We need to see Dr. Kadowaki, ASAP."

"Unless you're seriously injured, you're not coming in," the other bluntly replied. "That's the policy we're operating under."

"It's urgent!" Squall insisted. "The fate of this entire Garden is at stake!"

"Yeah, never would have guessed that," the first gestured to the windows. "Those are the rules. No exceptions!"

"Well, are these serious enough for you?!"

Squall spun back around to Rinoa. She'd drawn back one side of her duster sweater to expose the black tank top beneath. With her free hand, she grabbed the bandages he'd applied last night, and pulled them loose. They unraveled to show the still-mending claw marks from the lizard creatures. Though the bleeding had subsided, the gashes were still plenty prominent. She bent down to reach for the other bandages on her thighs, but stopped as one of the sentries conceded.

"Okay, fine! You can come in. Just you. Your friends are sticking right here."

"We're a squad!"

"Let it go, Rinoa," Quistis said. "They're just doing their duty. Go on in. Ask around for Dr. Kadowaki, and tell her I need to speak to her immediately. She'll let us in if she knows I'm here."

The girl frowned. She idled in place for a moment before stepping forward. Squall caught a brief glimpse of the infirmary lobby through the automatic doors; swathes of students in white coats scurried to and from the multiple sick bays. Traditionally, a regiment of SeeD medical specialists were on call in the event of an operation resulting in large-scale casualty figures. From what he could tell however, the number on duty well exceeded the usual shortlist, with many among them looking quite young at that.

The door shut behind Rinoa, leaving him and Quistis with little to do but bide their time. Combat raged on outside all the while. He took the moment to ponder why such a coup had been orchestrated against the headmaster. That a kindly old man like Cid could have ties to the sorceress was ridiculous, much less that he would sell out the entire student body to appease her. What did pique his suspicion was the timing; it all coincided so perfectly with Galbadia's planned missile strike. Could it have been a deliberate diversion? Was it in fact this enigmatic Garden Master who was in conspiracy with the sorceress?

After about a minute, the door re-opened. Dr. Kadowaki stood in its frame. Rinoa trailed behind, fumbling about her torso to rewind the bandaging she'd removed.

"Quistis!" the doctor greeted her friend. "You're back! I was worried sick after what happened on TV a few days ago."

It really has only been a few days, hasn't it?

"It's been rough," Quistis responded. "But we desperately need your help."

"So this girl tells me," she gestured to Rinoa. "Well, come on in."

The sentries reluctantly stepped aside to let them through. Quistis went first, Squall promptly following behind. The door hissed shut behind him as they proceeded further into the lobby.

"You're looking for Cid? I don't understand this ridiculous 'faction' mumbo-jumbo, but I know you can't be with the ones out to get him."

"Of course not!" Quistis affirmed. "There's a chance Galbadian missiles might be heading straight for here! We need to find him and organize an evacuation as soon as possible!"

"You're joking!" the normally unfazed physician reeled.

"I've never been more serious in my life."

"Well, I'm sorry, but even if that's the case, I'm going to have to stay right here. There's no way I can leave my station. There are already too many wounded on hand. We've had to pull in a few fresh medicine undergrads just to account for all the patients."

"We're not asking that of you," Quistis clarified, seeming disheartened by her response all the same. "But you really don't have any idea where Cid might be?"

"Not a clue, dear," the middle-aged woman sighed. She suddenly took both of Quistis' hands in hers. "Not. A. Clue."

Her stare bored directly into Quistis' eyes. A faint smile crossed her lips. Without another word, she released her clasp, and turned on her heel back to the infirmary proper. Squall stood by solemnly, at a loss for where to look next. As he racked his brain for an answer, he noticed the thin slab of laminate Quistis now held in her hand.

"What's that?" Rinoa asked.

"A keycard," she anxiously breathed. "For one of the operating rooms!"

She spun to one of the hallways jutting off from the lobby, and darted ahead. Squall and Rinoa followed after. They blew by several reinforced steel doors, each equipped with a card reader. Though Squall had never been privy to the infirmary's surgical wing while conscious, he'd doubtless been hauled in to one of these rooms for the stitching of his facial scar.

Quistis stalled in her tracks as she reached the fifth door on the left. She frantically thrust the keycard into the scanner. The indicator light flashed green as the door's pressurization system disengaged with a hiss. It parted to reveal a sterilized operation theater. The table sat in the center, surrounded by wheeled metal trays with all manner of surgical equipment set atop. Squall took the initiative; with no one in sight, he stepped forward into the room.

He froze on the spot. A lightning-fast sheen of silver flashed out in front of him from the left, coming to a rest just below his chin. The short-sword gleamed under the operation room's fluorescent lighting. Moving only his eyes, he followed the blade to the hand that clasped its hilt, and up the uniform's sleeve. Commandant Xu's steely glare awaited at the end. Headmaster Cid stood behind her with his back pressed to the wall. As his bespectacled eyes met Squall's, he seemed to relax.

"Xu!" Quistis implored. "I mean, Commandant! It's us! Dr. Kadowaki gave us the key! You have to believe us!"

"Who is she?"

Her gaze was now fixed to Rinoa. Her outstretched blade stayed hovering a scant few inches from Squall's throat.

"Xu, it's fine," the headmaster reassured her. "She was the client for Squall's team's assignment. She's trustworthy."

With an uneasy glance between the three, she cautiously retracted her short-sword. She stepped back, sheathing it on the left side of her belt, opposite its twin on her right. They quickly ducked inside, the door hissing shut behind the tail of Rinoa's duster sweater. She'd still yet to fully wrap the bandages back around her waist.

"Please, allow me," Xu told her.

The commandant crossed over to her side, and raised her hand over the claw marks. A gleaming white light shone forth from her palm. Rinoa jumped in place for a moment, before she seemed to realize the light's aura was not harmful. To the contrary, the wounds magically began to mend back together. Squall's eyes went wide. He'd heard tell of holy spellcraft's healing abilities, but never before seen it conjured firsthand. Only those who'd shared the battlefield with the commandant were so privileged. No one else among the student body possessed another sphere like hers. Or so he'd believed.

"What are you all doing back here?" Cid inquired. "And Rinoa, are you okay? What were you doing up next to Edea on the broadcast?"

"It's a long story," Squall answered in her stead. "And we don't have time to explain it all right now. We have urgent news. Galbadian missiles may be heading this way."

"Missiles?!" Xu repeated. Finished with Rinoa's wounds, she spun back around to face him. "Here?"

"Last we heard, they were targeting both Balamb and Trabia Gardens. The assassination orders you had delivered to us went awry. Zell and Selphie stayed behind to sabotage the launch, but there's no guarantee they were able to stop it."

"Delivered to you?" Cid shot him a puzzled look.

"Is there any way to order a complete evacuation of the campus?" Quistis desperately asked. "I don't understand the meaning of this conflict, but an announcement ought to get people moving out of here."

"The headmaster's office has been secured by the Thorns," Xu explained. "There's no way for us to access the intercom system if we can't get in there."

"Then I suppose we'll have to do it the old-fashioned way," Cid sighed.

"We already have a pair making the rounds," Squall said. "But with all this chaos, and so many wounded, I don't know how we're going to get everyone out."

"We can only do what we can," the kindly old man affirmed. "I want you all to assist with spreading the word, and then evacuate yourselves."

"But Headmaster!" Xu exclaimed. "Who'll protect you?"

"I'll be fine. I have an idea that might save this Garden. Just get moving and inform as many students as you can. That's an order!"

After a moment's hesitation, the commandant saluted. She turned to the door, stepped through as it parted, and bolted down the hall. Relieved of his bodyguard, Cid exhaled deeply, and started rummaging through his vest's pockets.

"I'm getting too old for this sort of thing," he sighed.

"Sir," Squall spoke up. "Whatever it is you're planning, please… allow me to handle it in your stead."

"And why, pray tell, would you want to do that?" he asked with a curious wilt.

"Because…"

Because you might screw up. Because I want to do more than just announce the evacuation. Because I want to know what your plan is. Because this place is important to me, too. Because this is my home. There are too many reasons…

"I don't know why! What does it matter?"

"You were right, Quistis," the old man smiled past him. "He does have a hard time expressing his feelings, doesn't he?"

"But he's always ready to act on them when he knows it's the right thing to do," his former instructor answered from behind. He willed himself not to retch as he imagined that same sickening smile on her face.

"You don't know the half of it," Rinoa chimed in.

"I'm right here!" he snapped, no longer caring if it painted him in an unprofessional light in front of the headmaster. "My feelings have nothing to do with this! Just please, sir, tell us your plan!"

"Very well."

Cid extended his open palm. A small key rested atop.

"You may or may not know this, but… this academy used to be a shelter constructed by the Centrans, long ago. All three of the Gardens were. When it was finished being remodeled, the lead architect told me about some kind of control system tucked away in the lowest levels of the infrastructure. This key is for the lock on the bottom of the south elevator's inside panel. It should allow you to descend to the MD level, where this control center is. I've never been down there to see it, and have no idea what it does. But if it's leftover technology from when this place was still a shelter, then maybe… just maybe it could be effective against the missiles."

"With all due respect sir, don't you think this is an awful lot to be banking on a hunch?"

"With the Garden in so much disarray, it may be our only hope."

Squall stared intently at the plain, iron-cast key; its surface was coated in a slight smattering of rust. Try as he might to come up with a better alternative, the headmaster was right. With the ongoing civil conflict, and the impracticality of shuttling so many wounded off the premises, the far-fetched gambit was their only real option. He took the key from his hand.

"Understood," he saluted. "Quistis and I will head on down and see what we can find."

"I'm coming, too!" Rinoa cut in on cue.

"No, you're not. It's too dangerous out there. Just stay in here and keep the door locked."

"If the missiles hit, we'll all be blown to smithereens anyway! I told you, I want to help. Why won't you let me?"

Squall silently mulled it over. Taking her along was out of the question; with an impending descent into the unknown, he and Quistis couldn't afford to be hung up on her safety every step of the way. And yet, against his better judgment, he sympathized with her plight. She refused to be denied her own agency, or to be rendered helpless in the face of danger. It was that very same tenacity which had fueled his own drive to become a SeeD. He'd sworn never to be dependent on others to guide him through life's challenges; he valued self-reliance above all else. She longed to prove herself, to make a difference she could take pride in. That was worthy of his respect. All the better if it could help him goad her into staying put.

"You will be helping," he finally said. He moved from Cid's side to speak with her, face-to-face. "With the commandant gone, it'll be up to you to protect the headmaster. That's why I want you to stay. Here."

He reached down to his entwined belts, and unclipped his GF sphere. Taking Rinoa's hand in his, he firmly placed it in the clasp of her dainty fingers.

"I'm going to leave this with you," he explained, not breaking eye contact. A strange emotional intensity he hadn't felt since their waltz came over him. "To use it, you just need to focus your mind, and let the energy wash over you. Imagine the heat of the flames flowing from your hands. You'll figure it out."

They stood still, eyes locked to one another. Rinoa finally broke from the stare-down. She tilted her gaze to the sphere in her hand. With a bewildered nod, she maneuvered it around her back and slipped it into her pouch.

"I'll… do my best," she accepted. "Are you sure you'll be okay without it?"

"I'll manage. While we're gone, you can even use this chance to talk to the headmaster about our contract, like you wanted. Whatever you do, stay safe. Let's go, Quistis."

He turned back to the door. Quistis promptly saluted Cid before presenting Rinoa the room's keycard, and followed him out. The door slid shut. After confirming the re-pressurization sealing, they took off back towards the infirmary lobby.

"Do you really think that was smart?" Quistis asked. "You know there's no way she can use that without any training."

"I'm hoping it won't come to that," he replied. "But it makes me feel better than leaving her with nothing!"

They re-entered the desecrated atrium. Squall bolted for the west staircase the moment he got the chance, and climbed up to the ring of shattered elevators. He worked his way around to the south side, facing the directory, and stepped inside the ruined capsule the headmaster had mentioned. His eyes scanned over the interior panel. An electronic keycard reader for access to the upper floors was situated at the top. Beneath were fifteen buttons for the standard floors, and beneath those, a chiseled keyhole. He guided the key into the slot as Quistis stepped aboard.

"You… really care about her, don't you?"

"She's still my client until the headmaster says otherwise!"

He turned the key hard. The pane-less doors closed, providing no more protection from the firefight than when they'd been ajar. At last, the elevator descended into the dark, unexplored recesses of Balamb Garden.

Chapter Text

The Dingo Desert's sandy plains stretched on for miles in every direction. Nights were virtually pitch-black, save for the moon and stars above; the lack of man-made light pollution made them pop out so much more brilliantly against the darkness. Much as he'd despised his demotion and reassignment to the D-District Prison, Lieutenant Biggs had soon come to appreciate the break from Deling City's neon bustle. Tonight however, he could see no stars; billowing black smoke blotted out any trace of the sky.

He stepped out of the transport as it ground to a halt. The smoldering remains of buildings and vehicles lay strewn about within a fixed perimeter, namely what was left of the base's exterior wall. A deployment of troops with their own transports surrounded the wildfire. Fire-hoses sprayed from the too few emergency response vehicles; they'd likely only just arrived on the scene from the nearest settlements, hours away.

The opening of the passenger side-door jogged him from his fixation. The irksome blonde in the grey coat stepped out, his face the very image of disbelief. Though the destruction of the missile base was not something to relish, Biggs couldn't keep the smirk from creeping across his lips. The morning's events had put him on the receiving end of the boy's abuse scarcely 4 hours earlier. He had already suffered enough at the hands of the meddlesome SeeDs for a second time, and likely earned himself another demotion to a rank he'd not held for the better part of 10 years. It had continued to eat him up inside all the way along their return trip to the capital. However terrible the loss, the small satisfaction was enough to perk his spirits.

Seifer strode forward with purpose. He made for a nearby cluster of troops, huddled together as they conversed. The most readily observant of the four snapped to attention. The other three swiveled their heads and followed suit.

"Sirs!" the head of the pack addressed them. "We believe we have the situation under control. We've sent word to all the nearby provinces for the use of their emergency response teams."

"What the hell happened here?!" the enraged knight bellowed. "Tell me they managed to get the missiles for Balamb Garden in the air!"

"We think so, sir! We're with the deployment bound southeast for the Horizon Bridge. We were on our way down the Great Plains from the capital, when we saw the blast go up in the distance. As we got closer, we could still see a few smoke trails streaming across the sky."

"And when was this?"

"It couldn't have been more than 2 hours ago, sir! We've combed over the full reach of the blast radius for survivors, but haven't found a single one thus far."

"What were those idiots doing waiting so long to launch?!"

Seifer drew his signature gun-shaped sword, and angrily thrust the blade into the sand at his side. Biggs reflexively stepped back as it kicked up a small cloud of coarse earth.

"I told them to go ahead without me! I swear, if they were waiting for me to get back… Edea is going to be furious when she hears about this!"

The four troops didn't dare break formation so long as he stayed embroiled in his rage. Knowing full well the petulant child beside him was unfit for the position he now held, it was Biggs who stepped forward to relieve them.

"Continue to scour the area," he commanded; as the words left his mouth, the realization struck him that it would likely be his last order ever as a superior officer. "And keep your eyes peeled for those SeeD twerps. Much as I'd like to think they went up with this place, they're a crafty bunch."

"Yes, sir!" they all exclaimed.

They saluted again before scattering. Seifer remained still as a statue. His stare seemed intent to bore a hole directly into the sand at his feet. Biggs smirked to himself; the respect the men had shown for his authority was as clear a distinction between them as any.

"Well, looks like I'm not gonna be the only one in for a red ass when we get back," he casually spoke.

In a flash, the ebony blade flew out from the sand. It came to a halt just before his jugular.

"Speak to me like that again, and I'll throw you on that pyre myself!" Seifer spat. The flames lit up his piercing blue eyes as they stared, unflinchingly, into Biggs' visor.

The soon-to-be-former lieutenant clenched his jaw. He knew it wasn't beyond the unhinged youth to follow through on his threat. After several tense moments, Seifer withdrew the blade, and spun back around to their transport. Biggs begrudgingly followed, letting himself breathe easy as best he could amidst the smog. He climbed back into the vehicle's rear, and slammed the door shut. For the first time, he reflected upon what the SeeD with the facial scar like Seifer's had said to him. Was his resolve really so strong as to follow this spoiled child's orders? He could no longer be so sure.

The elevator shaft stretched far further underground than Squall would have guessed. All his life, he'd known only of the Garden's 20 above-ground floors. He'd never even been higher than the 15th until his induction into SeeD, 2 weeks earlier.

The worn, beaten capsule slunk into the depths at a slower pace than he was accustomed to. Roughly halfway down the shaft were a pair of sturdy metal doors, adorned with a regal black and gold color scheme. An imprinted mural of tangled, prickly vines encircling a floating gemstone leapt out as the lift passed by. He turned to Quistis for an answer. She shrugged in return; evidently, she knew as much as him. If even the headmaster had never set foot so far below, who could say what horrors might await them so far from the light of day?

The elevator finally came to a rest at the bottom. A dank, shadowy corridor stretched onward into total darkness. Quistis wasted no time; she boldly stepped out from the lift and into the unknown. Squall yanked the headmaster's key from the control panel before following. A long line of extinguished lamps ran along the walls. With no electricity being supplied to them, the elevator was their only source of light.

"Well, I can believe no one's been down here for ages," he voiced his concerns.

"We still need to be on our guard," Quistis reminded him as she rummaged through a pouch on her belt. "There's no telling how much structural wear this place has sustained. At any rate, let's shed some light on the subject, shall we?"

Her small, LED flashlight instantly shooed away the shadows from their path. The gloomy, rust-laden corridor became more manageable to traverse, though no more inviting. Taking a deep breath of unpleasant, corrosive air in through his nostrils, he carefully followed behind her.

Jagged strips of deteriorated metal plating had long since started peeling away from the walls. He slowed to a cautionary crawl so as not to slice himself. Basked in Quistis' torch, untold ages worth of mold and grime came to light from under each upturned segment. Dilapidated though the corridor was, he still had his gunblade on hand should the way forward be blocked off any any point. He'd anticipated as much, hence his token gesture to leave Rinoa with his GF instead.

For the old shelter to be a relic of the Centran civilization implied it was at least 100 years old. From what Squall recalled of his history lessons, theirs had once been the most technologically advanced society known to man. Little had survived the destruction of their home continent, the cause of which was still hotly contested. General consensus had chalked it up to a freak meteor bombardment; his own experience as Laguna at the crater seemed to support the theory. Newer research hypothesized it to be the work of large-scale, seismic turbulence caused by a gravitational imbalance with the moon, similar to how the tides swelled and receded. Whatever the truth, it did not matter now. He knew full well the end which might befall his own home if they failed to pick up the pace.

The ruined corridor drew to an end. Quistis swept her flashlight all around, its illumination inadequate for the massive room they'd emerged into; its total area was nearly as vast as the atrium. They stood on a catwalk beside a steep flight of stairs, leading down to a ringed, grated walkway around a large generator in the middle. The enclosing rounded walls bore an evenly spaced assemblage of what looked like large turbine engines, each contained within its own glass capsule. A second catwalk shot out from a windowed control room high up on the opposite side from them. It looked accessible only from a tall ladder running up the side of the generator. With nothing else for it, Quistis gingerly started down the staircase.

"Just what kind of shelter was this?" she wondered on the way down.

"No idea," Squall said as he followed behind. "Looks more like some kind of power plant. The bulk of it must have been demolished to make way for the Garden."

"Seems that way. Let's just hope the electrical circuits weren't completely gutted."

"I'd like to hope it won't matter," Squall said, glancing at his watch. "It's been 11 hours, and the missiles still haven't come. That's a good sign."

"But it's not something we can count on," Quistis replied as she touched down on the walkway. "Even if the others did stop the launch, it's only a matter of time before the sorceress sends in the army to finish the job. With the student body so fractured, we'd be completely unprepared. We can't leave anything to chance."

She approached the ladder, and preemptively rattled the centuries-old rungs.

"Doesn't look too stable," she hummed.

"Then we'll take it one at a time," Squall suggested. "I'll go first. If it can hold me, then you'll be fine."

He took the rung nearest his eye level, and heaved himself up. He slowly climbed, all the while resisting the urge to hurry; he couldn't afford to put excessive strain on the rusted iron. Quistis' torch stayed trained to him like a spotlight, providing his only visibility by which to find the next handhold. Slowly but surely, the catwalk drew closer.

He'd cleared roughly three-quarters of the way when a sickly creak met his ears. He froze. His heart sunk into his gut as several more squeaks and groans came from above and below. The ladder's frame buckled. An unintelligible cry sounded from below as the hinges finally gave way. The instability from Squall's hanging weight began to draw the ladder away from the generator. He fought to thrust his momentum back forward, but to no avail. It finally snapped a quarter of the way up from its base, and toppled backwards towards the control room. He clung on for dear life as he fell, Quistis' flashlight trailing his trajectory all the while.

The jolt came seconds later as the top of the ladder crashed through the windowpane above. His legs slipped from their footholds, leaving him dangling by both arms. He braced himself as shards of broken glass came raining down. Using what lingering momentum he still had from the impact, he swung himself away from the bulk of the debris. He narrowly avoided a sizable chunk, even as smaller fragments unavoidably embedded themselves in his jacket's shoulders.

"Squall!" Quistis shrieked his name. Her flashlight stayed trained to him, forcing him to squint his eyes. "Are you alright?! I'm coming up, so just keep holding on!"

The light finally pivoted away. She scrambled to mount the now diagonally slanted ladder at its base. Not content to dangle helplessly from the makeshift monkey-bars, he carefully swung himself back and forth like a pendulum, struggling against the additional centripetal weight of his gunblade. Before long, he'd built up enough momentum to slip his right leg into a gap in the ladder. He bent his knee over top the rung to keep himself in place.

Now clinging to the ladder like a trapeze artist, he carefully brought up his left leg up and around its side. His ankle hooked onto the iron framing. He strained to use his leg as a lever to pull himself around and on top. Fortunately, the ladder seemed well wedged in place through the control room window. He finally grabbed hold of the side with his hand, sliding his other leg out from between the rungs as he did so. With another mighty heave, he pulled himself up and over into the oncoming glare of Quistis' flashlight.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Barely," he grumbled.

He quickly surveyed his intertwined belts for anything that might have fallen off. Besides the GF sphere he'd abdicated to Rinoa, everything seemed to be accounted for.

"I really didn't think you were going to make it this time!"

"It's nothing new for me at this point. Let's go. We've got work to do."

Hand over hand, he crawled along the slanted set of rungs. The flashlight behind him cast his long shadow over the darkened pit below. His sheathed gunblade rhythmically clanged against the left rail as he proceeded, forcing him to reassert his balance with each step. Despite the ladder's foundations having given way, the rungs themselves were up to the task of supporting their weight.

He finally ducked his head through the broken window, and touched down inside the control room. Quistis followed him in, bringing with her the means to make out its interior. In the center, a cluster of control terminals were spread about in a semi-circular array facing the window. It all looked better preserved than the corridor leading from the elevator. Perhaps by some stroke of luck it would even be functional.

"So, what now?" Quistis asked as they strolled over to the main console.

How should I know? Even the headmaster doesn't…

He scanned his eyes over the controls. Few bore any sort of label he could interpret. What's more, he had no idea what he was looking for. He suddenly realized just how much he'd taken Zell's expertise for granted. Easily riled though he was, there was no one else Squall would have rather had with him at a moment like this. At a loss for what to do, he started pressing random buttons.

"Squall!" Quistis reacted. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"Whatever I can!"

The terminal's display had powered on amidst his hammering. That he'd gotten any response at all from the equipment was a small victory. Quistis seized his arm before he could go any further.

"Well, don't just go bashing things if you don't know what they do! Whatever we're looking for isn't going to help us if you break it!"

"What else can I do?!" he snapped. With one final, frustrated slam of his palm, he compliantly backed away.

"Easy! I know we're pressed for time, but we need someone who's more knowledgeable about this kind of old tech than we are. We've found what we're looking for. It's not going anywhere. Let's head back up and see if we can find-"

A raucous, mechanical groan drowned her out. Squall's eyes flitted to its source beyond the broken window. Quistis' flashlight followed suit. A persistent whirring began to intensify. As the light stayed fixed to a pair of the many turbine engines around the room's circumference, he could see the rotors had begun to spin. Before long, the dim interior lighting blinked into existence above. Whatever buttons he'd pressed appeared to have initiated the proper command.

A jolt suddenly knocked him off balance. Quistis yelped as she fell to one knee alongside him. And then, the room started spinning. As he glanced around, he realized it was in fact the circular divot the control center stood within that had begun to turn; the terminals which had moments ago been facing the window had swiveled 90 degrees left towards the door. A set of iron railings suddenly extended up from the floor all around the circle, save for one small gap at the rear.

"What's going on?!" Quistis shrieked. She'd fallen to all fours, hunched over to steady herself.

Squall had absolutely no idea. He stayed on one knee as the control center finally came to a rest; it had rotated a full 180 degrees away from the window. Just as he prepared to stand up, another jolt from below kept him stationary. The next moment, the platform rose. His eyes shot up to the ceiling. A giant hole the exact dimensions of the surrounding rails opened above. Flashing trails of blinking lights lined the darkened shaft. The makeshift lift ascended into it, picking up speed all the while.

"Based on how far we walked from the elevator!" Squall shouted to Quistis over the platform's whirring. "Where do you think we are under the Garden?!"

"Right now?!" she yelled back. "If I had to guess, probably under the entrance hall! You think it's taking us back to the surface?!"

He did not answer her. The resulting breeze from their ascent whipped through his hair; he brought up his hand to clear his wavy brown locks from his eyes. A second opening was fast approaching. Fluorescent lighting seeped out from the periphery as they drew closer. At last, the platform zoomed through, and onward into yet another circular shaft in the ceiling. Straining his eyes to peer through the surrounding railings, he realized that they had indeed risen up through the entrance hall. They passed through the ceiling to re-emerge through the southern stretch of hallway on the second floor. Next came the third, and then the fourth.

Higher and higher the lift climbed, soon stemming the entire Garden as floor after floor whipped by. SeeDs and cadets still engaged in combat stalled as they passed. He redirected his attention back to the shaft above, curious as to just how high it might take them. His heart sunk as he saw what waited ahead; after just a few more floors was a solid, pitch black void. There was no more light beyond, no indication of an opening. The platform was going too fast; it couldn't possibly come to a stop in time. He shut his eyes tightly, bracing himself to be flattened against the ceiling.

The impact was remarkably lighter than he'd anticipated. With a series of loud tears, the platform sheared through the fabric that had been laid over top the opening. It now lay draped on his back, pinning him to the ground as they finally stopped rising. Still unable to believe he'd survived, he pushed himself back up to his knees and threw the cover off. The torn, circular patch of red carpet cleared his head. With Quistis' assistance, it tumbled off the platform to the floor below.

Sure enough, they'd arrived in the headmaster's hall; the elevated control center stood directly before the giant window overlooking the Alcaud Plains. Squall raced over to the railing, and peered down over the edge. A massive titanium pillar extended up through the hall's now tarnished red carpet. Four Thorns stood all around in stunned silence, staring the protrusion up and down in shock. An ingrained set of metal rungs extended down from the gap in the guardrail to the platform's rear.

"You!" one of the robed usurpers roared up at him. "What are you doing?! What is the meaning of this… thing?!"

"Squall!" Quistis called to him before he could answer. "Look outside!"

He turned back to the window. The brilliant luminescence of the Garden's floating halo had grown brighter. His confusion turned to bewilderment as it descended around the full lay of the campus; it dipped further towards the earth by the second, until it touched down just beyond the outer walls. Then, a sensation akin to the one he felt each time he'd used the flotation-buffer technique came over him. The ring appeared to continue sinking lower despite having already reached the ground. It was then that he realized the academy itself was now hovering. A loud hiss from the center of the platform abruptly stole away his attention. An iron-cast wheel akin to a ship's helm rose out of a parted indent in the metal. Its purpose was apparent, if no less unbelievable.

This place can fly?!

"I asked you, what the hell is going on here?!" the Thorn from before shouted, having made his way up the pillar's rungs in the interim. "What is this?! How did you get up here?! Did the headmaster put you up to-"

"Squall! The missiles! They're here!"

He shoved the robed man away without a word, sending him toppling over onto the platform. Following Quistis' outstretched finger, he peered through the window into the southwestern night sky. A flurry of blazing, fiery trails pierced through the blackness in the distance. They were too brilliant to be stars, each producing a stream of smoke in its wake. Their worst nightmare had become reality.

"Damn it all!" he swore, racing to the wheel. "We need to figure out how to move this thing, fast! There's got to be an accelerator around here!"

"Hey, you little punk!"

The voice came from over his shoulder just before a hand firmly seized him. He craned his neck back to the Thorn; his eyes glared at him from beneath his golden head-wear. A third had arrived on the scene to help up the one he'd knocked down.

"Lay your hands on another of us again, and I'll have your head brought to the Garden Master myself! Now, answer me! What's happening here?"

"We're all going to be reduced to fine dust if we don't get moving, that's what's happening!" he angrily spat. "If you value your lives, then start pushing buttons!"

"And just where do you get off speaking to me like that, sol-"

The Thorn's clasp on his shoulder slipped as the room jerked forward. Squall clung tightly to the helm. With a look out the window, he could see the whole Garden had started creeping forward at a slow, laborious pace. The light of the inverted halo ring spread further across the plains below, guiding them onward.

"I'm not sure what I just did, but it looks like it's working!" Quistis hollered from one of the terminals.

"Keep it up!" Squall urged through gritted teeth.

He fought to keep the Garden's trajectory straight to maximize their accumulated momentum. Far below, the vast forest leading west towards Balamb whipped and whirled in the wake of the gale produced by the moving fortress. The headlights of dozens of vehicles sped along the winding motorway running through, appearing as mere ants from so high above. Raijin, Fujin, and the commandant's efforts clearly hadn't gone to waste.

"It's going to be a nail-biter!" Quistis declared.

"What the hell are those?!" the last of the four Thorns to have arrived on the platform blurted out.

The missiles drew closer by the second. That their sleek black bodies, previously all but invisible against the night sky, could now be even vaguely discerned was enough to send Squall into a panic.

"Please, just move… move… move!"

All fell silent. The missiles made their final descent in a pre-programmed dive-bomb formation. They disappeared beyond the window's upper lip, soaring directly over top the Garden. Squall held his breath. Moments later, it was forcefully expelled from his lungs.

The entire academy shook violently. A veritable sandstorm instantly blotted out any view of the outside. He fell over in tandem with everyone else on the platform, and undoubtedly every other person in the Garden. The priceless plaques and awards lining the walls all around fell from their hangers; their collective shattering was barely audible against the deafening explosion.

And yet, no matter the devastation both inside and out, nor the thick smog that now enveloped the window, the Garden's structural integrity seemed to have remained intact. They'd moved sufficiently far enough out of the blast zone to avoid complete obliteration; whatever damage the hull had sustained would be all but negligible. Seconds passed in stunned silence. Eventually, he rose back to his feet with comrade and foe alike. The floating castle kept moving forward all the while. Before long, it broke through the smokescreen. The first glimpse of the starry night sky peeked through, leading them on to the island's southern shore.

"I… I can't believe it," Quistis finally spoke; her voice quivered. "I didn't know what we were going to find down there, but… the Centrans really built something like this?"

"Explain what's going on, now!" the head Thorn raged at them.

"We just saved you!" Squall shot back. He swiveled around, and pulled his gunblade from its sheathe. "And unless you want us to revoke that kindness, I'd say a little gratitude is in order!"

"You've definitely got mine!"

Squall turned his head with Quistis and the Thorns to peer down over the railing. Commandant Xu stood by the hall's entrance, her head raised up to them.

"I don't have a clue what you did to make this happen, but I'm damn proud of you both!"

Don't worry, we know as much as you.

"We're headed straight for the sea!" one of the Thorns bellowed.

Squall turned around to the window for the umpteenth time. They were indeed drawing closer to the shore at an uncomfortably brisk pace.

"Whatever you did before, is there any way you can work it in reverse to slow our momentum?" he asked Quistis. She turned back to the controls straight away.

"There's no way we're going to slow in time!" another of the robed men panicked. "How do we know this place won't sink?!"

"If you traitorous rats want to jump ship, be my guest!" Xu snapped from below.

She hurriedly worked her way around the pillar to the headmaster's throne wedged between it and the window. She reached it, yanked the wired intercom receiver from the armrest, and raised it to her mouth. The signature four-tone chime sounded through the hall.

"Attention, all Garden students and staff! This is Commandant Xu Adrastia speaking. We are currently en-route for a rough collision into the sea. I am asking that everyone please remain calm, and brace for impact immediately!"

Squall grabbed hold of the nearby stretch of railing. Outside, the flotation ring finally crossed over the sandy shoreline. Its edge soon passed over the border of crashing waves. The Garden proceeded at a seemingly unimpeded pace, until at last the halo gradually slipped beneath the waters a ways out into the deep. A tremble followed as the unimaginable weight of the Garden touched down on the ocean surface.

It generated a massive splash liable to form a full-scale tidal wave. Compared to the devastating missile blast however, it was nothing. More promising was that despite the flotation ring having dipped underwater, the Garden itself showed no sign of following suit. It momentarily stalled, either by the force of the waves or Quistis' handiwork. All the same, it seemed to remain afloat as it leisurely coasted further into the open sea.

"Phew!" Quistis exhaled. She stood bent over in exhaustion at the fore.

Squall opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by another announcement from the commandant.

"Your attention once more, please! We appear to have safely come to a rest on the ocean surface. We will remain adrift for the time being, until we have determined our next course of action. For those yet uninformed, we have just survived a targeted missile bombardment from Galbadia. In light of these circumstances, I am hereby declaring a formal ceasefire between both factions of this ridiculous civil conflict. Students with an ID number ending in an even digit not previously assigned to safeguarding the junior classmen, you are to assist with gathering the wounded and bringing them to the infirmary. Everyone else, start cleaning up this mess, on the double!"

The intercom clicked off with the same four tone chime. Before Squall could so much as catch his breath, Xu suddenly flew up from beside the pillar. She soared high into the air, presumably having used her GF to do so, and landed gracefully on the command deck beside him. Her steely eyes came to a rest on the four Thorns as she reached for her twin short-swords.

"Get out! And tell that slimy toad that if he tries something like this again, I'll chop off his fingers one by one and force-feed them to him!"

"You'll regret those words, you little shrew!" the head of the pack threatened in return.

He gestured to his colleagues. One by one, they filed down the ladder. Xu's stare didn't break from them until they'd all descended, and made their way to the door. Her features relaxed but little as she turned back to Squall and Quistis.

"I don't suppose you two have the controls figured out, do you?" she asked.

"Not at all," Quistis admitted. "It was sheer dumb luck. We'll have to figure it out in the coming days. But right now, I think we should put our focus on mending relationships around here, and treating the wounded."

"Agreed. Still, dumb luck or not, the bravery you two have shown exceeds that of any SeeD, at least as long as I've been one. I'll see to it that you're both properly commended."

"Thank you," they both saluted.

Squall's racing heart continued to pound in his chest. Having another new honor bestowed upon him only caused it to intensify; he shuddered to think what new responsibility might come with it.

"Let's just hope the worst is behind us, for now," Quistis remarked.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Xu warned. Her eyes trailed back to the door as she turned to take her leave. "The battle might be over, but remember to keep your wits about you. You're dismissed. Oh, and Leonhart?"

She abruptly swiveled back to face Squall.

"I just want to let you know that, as of tonight, you've more than earned your keep as a SeeD. After what happened at Dollet, I wasn't convinced giving you a pass was the right move. I'm glad to say, I couldn't have been more mistaken. You're exactly the kind of person this army needs."

The unexpected praise shot right through him like a bullet. He'd already long accepted that his SeeDship was a sham, obtained on a technicality he'd had no moral right to take advantage of. He'd wholeheartedly agreed with the commandant's initial assessment. Her change of heart astounded him. And despite what lingering doubts he still had, for the first time in his weeks-long military career, he truly believed himself worthy of the cause he served.

He had come home.

Chapter Text

The candle on the wooden table burned all by its lonesome, casting long shadows across the floor of the tavern; at this late hour, there was no other light to contest its eminence. Laguna kept his eyes fixed to the dancing flame, hopelessly pining for it to shoo away the gloom that had fallen on his heart. He knew it was futile. The relief he sought would not come, no matter how many hours he kept sitting there. He'd already spent too many over the last two nights. His inability to sleep kept him from joining his equally distraught wife in bed.

He'd returned home days earlier from another routine excursion, the latest of many since he'd signed on with Timber Maniacs more than a year earlier. At his old friend's behest, he'd eventually found the courage to head back to the besieged city for a meeting with the chief editor. Despite whatever reservations he'd had at the time, the life of a travel journalist was finally his.

Raine had been nothing but supportive, and positively elated when he'd gotten the job. He knew it hadn't been easy for her to accept. Nor would it be for him to leave behind the two most important ladies in his life with each trip. And so, as a sign of his love and loyalty to her and Ellone, he'd followed up the bold move with yet another. Though he'd needed to take out a loan to afford the ring, it's dividends were paid immediately. Her teary-eyed look of joy as he'd proposed upon the rolling, moonlit bluffs was something no amount of money could buy.

Things had gone smoothly for a while. He would intermittently depart the village, no longer plagued by an influx of wild monsters, and freely explore regions of the continent he'd never seen. With each new locale, and each new article written, his reward was twofold: the elation of his wife and daughter each time he returned, and the means to support them. So they'd lived happily for more than a year.

Laguna finally had the personal fulfillment he'd always longed for. No longer had he ever felt the need to stop and wonder if he'd made the right decisions in his life. There was nothing more he could ask for, no hardship he couldn't overcome without them by his side. And therein lay his very dilemma. Now, seated in silence, his mind befuddled as he struggled to come up with a plan of action, he was well and truly lost. The eventuality he'd feared from the beginning had finally come.

A set of quickfire raps on the tavern door jerked him from his thoughts. He shot out of his chair, placing his hand on the table for balance. With a deep breath to compose himself, he crossed over, unfastened the deadbolt, and swung the door open. The brisk night air washed over him. There, standing in the tavern's porch lighting, was his nearest and dearest friend from a life left behind.

"I came as soon as I heard about the raid," Kiros said, dispensing with any pretense of formality. "Can I come in?"

"Sure."

The slender man's beaded dreadlocks swayed in the night gale as he made his way in and over to the candlelit table. Laguna quickly closed the door and followed. He'd been expecting Kiros to make an appearance at any time. Perhaps having someone to confide in would help him find the strength he needed, and the resolve to determine his next course of action.

[… even when I'm sleeping normally?]

He stumbled as he prepared to sit back down. Not since Kiros' first visit to Winhill more than a year ago had the strange feeling returned. He no longer doubted it was an omen of some kind. Good or bad, he wasn't yet sure.

"Everything looks like it's in one piece," Kiros swept his eyes around the tavern. "And I didn't see any damage to the rest of the town coming up the main drag. Is everyone okay?"

"Okay?" Laguna echoed.

He slumped back down into his seat. Unable to contain his frustration any longer, he slammed his fist down on the table.

"No, Kiros, everyone's not okay! They took Ellie, dammit!"

The table wobbled, coming to a rest as Kiros seized hold of its edges. The candle set in the center had miraculously stayed put. Though Laguna knew how unbecoming his outburst was, he couldn't help himself. He needed to vent.

"I'm… I'm sorry," he apologized. "It's just… how the hell am I supposed to deal with this?"

"Let's take things from the beginning, Laguna," Kiros softly spoke. "I'm shocked they actually came back. Didn't you say they already took every other young girl the first time?"

"Yeah."

"So, does that mean Adel didn't find a single one worthy? And why come back here if they figured they'd already cleaned the whole town out? It doesn't make any sense."

"What's there to make sense of?!" Laguna snapped, the tears beginning to well up in his eyes. "She's gone, and it's all my fault! All because I wasn't here to protect her!"

"You couldn't have known," Kiros tried to console him. "And what I'm saying is they couldn't have known she was still here. And even if they did, why go so far out of their way to kidnap this one little girl they missed the first time? That's what doesn't make sense to me. What reason would they have to do something like that?"

"I don't care what their reason was," he mewled. "I just… dammit, I don't know what to do anymore. Raine's been a complete wreck since I got home two days ago. She's barely been able to get out of bed. I'm trying my best to be there for her, but… well, I'm not holding up much better. Ellone meant the world to me. She was the closest thing I've ever had to a daughter. I loved her so, so much… and now she's gone forever."

"Stop talking like that!" Kiros chastised him, bringing his own hand down on the table. "She's not gone forever! Not yet, anyway. And if she really is that important to you, then you know exactly what you've got to do. You've got to pick yourself up, and go get her back."

"You think I don't know that? Believe me, there's nothing I'd love more. But if I leave… who'll take care of Raine?"

"She runs the local watering hole. There's got to be plenty of regulars who'd be happy to step up."

"Yeah, but…"

A hush fell over the bar. He knew Kiros was right. He cared so much for their sprightly little 5 year-old, and couldn't bear to go another day without the love and warmth she brought to his life. He knew in his heart it was the obligation of any man to protect his children. Despite Ellone not being his biological daughter, he'd come to care for her no differently. Such distinctions were meaningless to him. And yet, however fiercely his heart screamed for him to go racing off into the night, not stopping until he reached Esthar on the other side of the globe, his doubts kept him anchored to the table. Did noble intentions justify abandoning the woman he loved in her most vulnerable hour?

"Laguna," Kiros said to him. "Listen to me. I understand this is a choice no man should ever have to make. But if you don't get moving, if you stay here with Raine and try to pretend things will somehow turn out alright, then the two of you will never be happy again. You know it's true. With every moment wasted, the chances of you ever seeing Ellone again become more and more slim. So, if she really means that much to you, then now is the time to take action. We need to get ourselves into Esthar, any way we can."

"We?"

Laguna's eyes shot up from the table in surprise. Shrouded as his already dark features were by the shadows, he could still see Kiros' pursed lips curl into a smile.

"You don't think I'm gonna let you run straight into enemy territory by yourself, do you? Last time I did that… well, you ended up here. Who's going to make sure you don't get taken in by another pretty face?"

"So, even now, you still find a way to bust my balls," Laguna grumbled. He was suddenly torn between smirking at the comment, and pummeling him into the floor for its insensitivity.

"Only because I care. Hell, one mention of this to Ward, and I'm sure he'll drop everything to come along, too. Because you're our friend, Laguna."

His face became uncomfortably flush, owing to the candle, embarrassment, and pride all at once. It humbled him to know he had friends who would so gladly follow him to the ends of the earth.

Thank you, Kiros…

"Wait here," he told him as he rose from his chair. "I'll be right down."

He started for the stairs. Once on the steps, he took his time so as to stifle any excess creaking. He peeked his head up to peer through the gaps in the upstairs banister. Raine's outline was huddled up in their queen-sized bed. There she'd laid for virtually every waking moment of the last two days. The duffel bag by the bedside contained his clothes, toiletries, and other travel effects from his latest trip. He'd yet to unpack it; his disbelief over Ellone's kidnapping and concern for Raine had taken precedence. It now patiently waited for him to seize hold of its straps, and embark on the greatest adventure of his life thus far.

[Well, if these dreams keep up, they might at least give me a hint where she is nowadays.]

He was now convinced. The sensation had to be a cue that he was doing the right thing.

He carefully surmounted the last few steps, and crept across the carpeted floor to the bed. He stalled for a moment. His eyes were torn between the woman he loved, and the bag he would have to live out of for longer than he'd ever been away from Winhill. Finally, they shifted along the right-hand wall. A partition of drywall had been erected there, segmenting roughly a third of the formerly single-room top floor. Laguna, with the assistance of one of the local carpenters, had made the renovation after his and Raine's marriage, for the sake of giving Ellone her own room, and also allowing themselves the nighttime privacy they sought. Knowing she wasn't sleeping in there right now was sheer agony, his desire to return her there insurmountable.

He slung the bag over his left shoulder and strode over to his wife's side. In the faint moonlight shining through the window, her eyes were still visibly puffy. The remnants of the dinner he'd made for her sat on the nightstand, beside her most beloved photo of the three of them. No matter how much it pained him, nor the hurt she'd feel to wake up in the morning to find him gone, Kiros was right. The time for standing still was long past.

"Honey," he softly whispered. "I'm… I'm sorry. But I can't stay here. I have to go. I have to find Ellie. She means the world to me, and I'd happily give my life for hers if it came down to it. But I promise, it won't come to that. I will survive, and I will bring her back, no matter what. I love you."

He leaned over, and placed a tender kiss upon her cheek. He only hoped it wouldn't be for the last time. He righted himself, and rounded the bed back to the mahogany gun-cabinet. He retrieved his assault rifle from within, slinging it over his other shoulder, before unzipping the duffel bag and stuffing every spare ammunition cartridge inside. His preparations complete, he quietly closed the cabinet, and made for the stairs.

As he snuck on down, he turned back one last time to peer through the banister. He just barely managed to contain a gasp as he did so. Raine swung her legs out of the sheets to sit upright. She grabbed the picture on her nightstand, drawing it close. And as she spoke her last words to him, regardless of whether she knew he was listening, his resolve became unshakable.

"I believe in you…"

It appeared the dormitories hadn't been a significant front in the Garden's civil uprising; their halls were far less ravaged compared to the rest of the academy. All the same, few students passed Quistis by along her way. Most had by now awakened to begin their day, no differently than if their home were still rooted to the Alcaud Plains. With all classes and extracurricular activities canceled, their collective manpower would be put to use in repairing the damage done.

Scarcely 12 hours had passed since their unbelievable escape. Quistis had spent nearly every moment of it sound asleep. The last two days had without question been the most physically and mentally draining of her SeeD career thus far. She imagined it was no different for Squall. Now, standing outside his door, she briefly reconsidered if she ought to be disturbing him; perhaps a long rest would be more beneficial than any words of encouragement she could give.

No, what am I thinking? This isn't about me. I'm just here to make sure he keeps his promise, that's all.

She rapped hard on the door twice. A rustling kicked up on the other side, followed by a series of stumbling footsteps. The door swung open to reveal Squall, his eyes bleary and unfocused. He still wore his signature black jacket. The gaping hole torn through the leather under his right shoulder indicated he hadn't changed clothes from the previous night. Thoroughly exhausted though she'd been, Quistis had at least bothered to do as much, and donned her SeeD uniform with the morning's call.

"What is it?" he muttered.

"Just thought I'd swing by to check in," she replied nonchalantly. "Did you sleep in your clothes?"

"I guess so. I collapsed into bed the moment I got back."

"I don't blame you. This last week's been a nightmare. I still can't believe we survived. But, we should be safe for the time being."

"The fact that the missiles came," he pivoted, his tone turning dour. "Does that mean the others…?"

The question hung in the air between them. Quistis had already considered its ramifications; that the bombardment had arrived at all was reason enough to believe Zell, Selphie, and Irvine's infiltration had failed. Still, she hoped for their safety. With the Garden now adrift on the sea, they were completely cut off from the HD cable transmissions network. There was no longer any way for them to know the current state of world affairs.

"You're worried about them, too?" she finally broke the awkward silence.

"I wouldn't say worried," he brushed away her sentimentality. "But… well, shouldn't I feel some responsibility? I'm the one who gave the order. If they were captured and killed, then it's all down to my failing as a leader."

"That's quite a change coming from you. Didn't you say before that you don't want to carry anyone else's burden? The night of the ball, remember? Maybe now you can understand how I was feeling then."

"Was there something you wanted?"

Quistis frowned. Apparently he hadn't taken kindly to her re-opening of old wounds.

"You promised me that you'd let Dr. Kadowaki take a look at you when we got back," she reminded him. "About these fainting spells you've been having, remember?"

"That… might not be such a bad idea," he conceded.

"Glad you agree. Then, let's get going. And maybe afterwards we can have a nice chat over some tea in the cafeteria."

"One thing at a time."

He ducked back inside to retrieve his shoes and gunblade. Though the uprising had subsided, there was no guarantee peace had returned overnight. So long as the Thorns were still among them, traversing the Garden without a weapon was a risk, hence Quistis' coiled metal whip and GF sphere on her belt. His outfitting complete, Squall stepped out, and locked the door behind him. They proceeded down the hall towards the atrium.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Rinoa went off to?" Quistis asked along the way. "I went back to the infirmary last night, but she and the headmaster were gone."

"You're asking the wrong person," he responded. "Don't worry about it. The headmaster's probably set her up with a guest room."

"Funny. And here I was starting to think you were actually concerned for her."

"Haven't we been over this? I told you, it's only because she was my-"

He cut himself off, halting in his tracks. His eyes stayed trained forward to the atrium entrance ahead. Quistis turned her own, and likewise stalled. A pair of Thorns stood to either side of the corridor's end. They stepped away from the walls to stand in their path.

"Operative No. 41269, Squall Leonhart," the one on the left read from a small electronic tablet. "Operative No. 39425, Quistis Trepe. Is that correct?"

"It is," Quistis cautiously responded. Her hand itched to take hold of her whip.

"And there are two more who were dispatched to Timber alongside Leonhart, operatives Dincht and Tilmitt. Where are they now?"

"Back in Galbadia," Squall answered. "Currently MIA. What for?"

"The Garden Master has requested your presence immediately. Please come with us."

"And if we refuse?" Quistis rebutted. "Who is this 'Garden Master', anyway? Headmaster Cid is the only authority we answer to!"

"How naive we are," the Thorn menaced. "Your beloved headmaster has retained command of this Garden only because the Garden Master has allowed him to do so. As of yesterday, that privilege has been revoked. You will comply, or face the consequences. Now, follow!"

The robed man spun around towards the atrium. His comrade stepped aside to allow the two SeeDs passage. Quistis turned her head to Squall, with whom she shared an apprehensive glance before proceeding forward. The second Thorn relieved himself from the wall as they passed, bringing up the rear. They all continued into the atrium, and up the short flight of steps to the central platform. Students swarmed all along the inner and outer walkways, many setting up scaffolding by which to begin conducting repairs. The Thorn at the head led them around to the southern-most elevator, the very same they'd taken down the night before.

"So," Squall lightly muttered to Quistis. "Even you don't know anything about this 'Garden Master'?"

"Nothing," she admitted. "I've never heard of anyone with higher authority than the headmaster."

Compared to everything else that had transpired in the last two days, it wasn't hard to believe. Xu must have been in the know; the way she'd spoken to the Thorns the night before implied some familiarity. Perhaps it was only her and the headmaster who'd been privy to the secret. Nothing about it had ever been disclosed to Quistis since she'd become a SeeD. And yet, as the shattered elevator doors slid shut, and the Thorn swiped his keycard across the reader and pressed the down arrow, a sinking feeling in her gut told her she already knew their destination.

The lift descended, just as when she and Squall had the previous night. The air became thick with tension and the stench of corrosion, with only the elevator's light to guide them down. It soon came to a stop at precisely the juncture she'd anticipated: the muraled black and gold doors they'd seen the first time. They parted with the lift's chime.

A long red carpet extended into a wide, dark chamber. Quistis' breath caught in her throat. A congregation of golden headpieces popped out against the gloom, no less than 20 in all. It was by far the largest number she'd ever seen in one place. It wouldn't have been unreasonable to assume every member of the sect was present.

"Go," the escort to their rear ordered.

He shoved Quistis forward out of the lift. She begrudgingly obeyed, making her way with Squall down the carpet. At their approach, another pair split off from the assembly.

"Your weapons," the one nearest Quistis spoke coldly.

He outstretched his arms to her, as the second made the same gesture to Squall. Vastly outnumbered as they were, she complied. She hesitantly unfastened the whip and GF sphere from her belt, and relinquished them. The Thorn took her effects, and abruptly turned away, as did the other with Squall's gunblade.

With another shove from behind, they were ushered further down the carpet. An imposing mechanical effigy bulged from the wall at the end. Its rounded curvature resembled a massive cocoon, decorated with the same gold gilded patterns as the elevator doors. Two faintly pulsing blue orbs were fixed to either side of the synthetic pod; they resembled a pair of gleaming eyes staring right into her soul. The lead Thorn stood before it, his arms raised in reverence.

"Master! We present to you the only confirmed surviving SeeDs from the assassination."

A mechanized hiss followed. Billowing steam seeped from beneath the pod's frontal plating. With a groan, the metal cocoon's exterior lifted upwards. A bright fluorescent light from within swept across chamber as it continued to rise. All around, the gathered Thorns fell to one knee with their heads bowed. Quistis shielded her eyes against the light, squinting hard through the gaps in her fingers. The shadow of a large, rotund figure slowly came into focus. At last, the brightness dimmed to a manageable level, leaving her and Squall standing face to face with the enigmatic Garden Master.

Her mouth fell open. Xu's scathing words from the night before had been spot on; he did resemble a toad. His sickly, pale-yellow skin and deformed cranial structure notwithstanding, it was the bulbous proportions of his chin that most revolted her; it was akin to a massive uvula drooping all the way down to his upper chest. His gut positively bulged from his black and gold ceremonial robes. Unbelievably, his hands were bigger still. Their palms alone were at least the size of his head, and the thick tendrils that extended from them far beyond the bounds of human anatomy. Indeed, he wasn't human at all.

Is he… a Shumi?

Although she'd never met one, the Garden Master's physiology matched her biology studies to a tee. The yellow skin tone, large hands, and stout height were all accounted for. Only the sheer amount of body fat had thrown her off. Theirs was said to be a humble, hardworking, and peaceful civilization. They lived in the northernmost climes of Trabia, far from the prying eyes of humanity. It was supposedly rare for one to stray so far from their homeland. That this one had established himself as such a ruthless, domineering force within the Garden was even further outside the norm.

"You stand before Garden Master Norg," the head Thorn announced to them. "Proprietor of Balamb Garden, and the one true authority of SeeD."

Quistis glanced to Squall beside her. He too looked every bit as stunned. An unintelligible guttural noise drew her attention back to the portly Shumi; it sounded halfway between a groan and a gurgle. His beady black eyes washed over them.

"Which of you is the leader?"

His booming bass timbre echoed through the hall. With a quick inhale to calm herself, Quistis took the initiative, just as when they'd received the assassination orders from Headmaster Martine. Although Squall had been his team's leader, it was obvious this would require a more delicate, experienced touch.

"I was the highest ranking member of the squad," she explained. "Operative No. 39425, Quistis Tr-"

"I do not care who you are!" Norg bellowed. "If you are the leader, then give me your report on the sorceress!"

Quistis reeled in shock. Squall kept still as a statue close by. The assembly of Thorns had yet to rise from their knees, none appearing particularly perturbed by the outburst. It was surely nothing new for them.

"Answer him quickly!" the one at the head supplied his own order. "And be concise!"

It's going to be a sad report…

"We failed in our mission to assassinate Sorceress Edea," Quistis began. "Following the Timber team's evacuation from the city, confirmation of the orders was made at Galbadia Garden. Per Balamb and Galbadia's request, we were supplied with a sniper, and sent on our-"

"Balamb and Galbadia's request?!" the Garden Master roared again.

Another series of guttural noises followed. Thoroughly enraged, he slammed one of his massive balled fists against the interior of his pod.

"Damn you, Martine! I swear, I'll wring the life from you yet!"

"I… I don't understand," Quistis stammered, unsure what it was she'd said to anger him.

"You were fooled!" he responded. "Those orders were never meant to be carried out by SeeD! They were to be executed by Galbadia Garden operatives. But that sly weasel Martine used you so he could get away scot-free if the operation failed, and place all the blame on me!"

"What?! That… that can't…"

She frantically cast her mind back to that day. It had struck her as odd that Squall and his team would be given a new assignment when they'd yet to complete their original one. She also recalled having opened the portfolio to find so much of the mission file redacted. Most worrisome had been General Caraway's seeming lack of a contingency plan for them; it suddenly made so much more sense when she considered that they were being used all along. One by one, the pieces clicked together.

"I have known of the sorceress' alliance with Galbadia for some time," Norg elucidated. "Martine has served as my eyes and ears in the government for more than a decade. It was through him that I learned of her secret dealings with Deling, one month ago. I understood the threat she would pose to this Garden if she were to take control of the Galbadian military. And so, I'd begun plotting this assassination even before the Dollet siege, only to be fought tooth and nail at every turn by that spineless coward, Cid!"

Quistis listened on in wide-eyed amazement. The machinations that had been going on behind the scenes for so long beggared belief.

"I decided to commission Galbadia Garden to better cover up our involvement. We even had the details hand-delivered to Martine, to ensure they couldn't be intercepted with a digital transmission. I took each and every precaution to ensure nothing could be traced back to this Garden. He was to assign a team of top-level cadets hand-picked by myself… aside from the sniper. That one I left up to Cid, in exchange for his cooperation on the matter. He practically begged me for it. He said if I was going to give the order to have his wife taken out, then it was only fair he decide who pulls the trigger."

In that moment, Quistis stopped breathing. Time ground to a halt. The world as she knew it stopped spinning. There was simply no more mind-bending revelation she'd ever been privy to in her life. That it had come so casually, as a mere passing mention, was almost too much to handle.

The headmaster and the sorceress… are married?!

"I am anything but unreasonable," Norg continued, unabated. "And even that cadet ended up being at the top of his class. But it no longer matters. Your team just happened to show up right before the mission was to be carried out, and that bastard Martine used you instead! He stabbed me in the back, and then went off the grid the moment things fell apart! Not even a warning about that missile strike that nearly killed us all!"

You're welcome.

"Something must be done at once to calm the sorceress' anger. I'd planned to offer Cid's head as a show of goodwill, but the SeeDs sided with him! How dare they defy me?! It was I who put up the money to found this academy! This is my Garden!"

"No!" Quistis blurted out; she could no longer contain herself. "It's not just your Garden!"

"Then whose is it?" Norg scoffed. "Is it Cid and Edea's? That pathetic married couple's?! I think not! And if I cannot appease that witch with the head of her estranged husband, then I can offer her the next best thing: the heads of the SeeDs who tried and failed to kill her. Take them away!"

Quistis spun around. The Thorns all rose from their knees, pulling sharpened knives from their robes as they began closing in. Her eyes darted from one end of the chamber to the other as she mulled over her options at light-speed. Without her whip or Guardian Force, hand-to-hand combat was her only recourse. Although every student's standard physical training included the basics of martial arts, the odds were clearly not in her and Squall's favor. Strangely, her former student hadn't moved an inch; he kept his focus oriented squarely on the Garden Master.

"You're making a big mistake," the young man in black finally spoke. "Your plan is only a temporary fix. Even if you do offer us up to her, she'll eventually come for you again, with the strength of even more conquered nations at her disposal. You won't stand a chance."

"Hold your tongue, you sniveling little worm," Norg huffed. "Your sacrifice will buy me all the time I'll need to come up with a new insurance policy against her."

"And what if I could give you one right now?"

The robed mob scarcely 3 feet from his back suddenly stopped in their tracks. They'd evidently been caught off guard by the proposition, as was Quistis. She turned to Squall. A chill ran down her spine as she saw the look on his face; his blue eyes, normally so distant and lost in thought, were positively menacing, his lips curled into an unsettling, knowing smirk.

"I'm listening," Norg yielded the floor. He began pensively tapping his mammoth index finger on the outside of his pod.

"It's very simple," Squall continued; Quistis did not take kindly to his conniving tone. "The Galbadian military may be under her command, but no one in its ranks is pleased with her seizing control. You know this as well as I do… maybe even more so."

"I do," the Garden Master insisted. "Come to the point quickly, before I lose my patience!"

"The point is, it's an unstable situation. The army's chain of command isn't so flimsy that it can be undone in a day or two. Until that transition is complete, there's going to be major tension between the sorceress and the top brass. That's your window of opportunity. If you could sow even further discord between them now, it would likely lead to a civil uprising, just like the one you've already started in this Garden. All you need is the right leverage."

"And what kind of leverage might that be?" Norg mused. His curiosity seemed to have been piqued.

"The kind that provides a conflict of interest between the sorceress and the army, and potentially turns them against one another. What you need is a high-priority hostage. Someone with a connection to a very high ranking official in the Galbadian army… say, a familial connection."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Quistis' shriek ripped through the chamber. Emotionally distraught as she already was, Squall's implication had now shattered any stability she had left. It was unthinkable, disgusting, and utterly reprehensible. She stared him down in disbelief. A raucous fit of laughter escaped Norg's throat the next second, chasing away her scream.

"And am I to assume you know someone who fits that description?" the wicked Shumi chuckled.

"She's in this Garden right now," Squall said dryly, paying Quistis' outburst no mind. "Swear you'll let us go free, and I'll bring her down right away."

"No!" she objected as she stepped right in front of him. "What is wrong with you?! I'm not just going to stand here and let you use her as a bargaining chip to save your own life!"

"It's the only way. It's just like I told you that night: 'Everyone has to take care of themselves'."

His eyes stared straight into hers; they'd returned to that same, distant emptiness she knew too well. Tears began welling up in her own, just as they had on the ballroom balcony a lifetime ago. However hard it had been for her to come to terms with, she'd genuinely believed Rinoa meant something to him. That he had it in him to condemn her to such a cruel fate was beyond the pale. It was a sign that Quistis no longer knew him at all. Or perhaps she never had. The tears finally stared running down her cheeks.

"You're no better than Seifer," she sobbed. "You're a monster!"

"Just my kind of monster," Norg chortled with delight. "And a shrewd businessman at that. Consider it a deal. You have one hour to bring me this 'high-priority hostage'. Your comrade stays here as collateral. If you're not back here within that time, we slit her throat. You two! Escort him back upstairs, and stay with him at all times. If he tries anything funny, kill him where he stands."

Squall gave the SeeD salute to the Garden Master, and started back down the red carpet to the elevator. Quistis could barely stomach to watch him go with the two Thorns. She fell to her knees in heartbreak, unable to cease her bawling.

Where did I go so wrong?

Chapter Text

The murmuring about the cafeteria had died down since the morning breakfast rush. Most students had since made their way out to assist with repairs. Only a few small groups lingered behind, leaving Rinoa at leisure to pore over her reading material in peace. She lifted her eyes from the book's pages, drained the last dregs of her coffee, and glanced out the nearby window. The sloshing waves stretched on to the horizon, seemingly with no end. It was no less unbelievable now than the night before.

She'd reluctantly obeyed Squall's command to stay with the headmaster. As they'd waited in the operating room, she'd tried to get an explanation from him about the bizarre uprising. Cid had stayed mum on the subject; a conflict of interest between him and the Garden's proprietor was all he was willing to divulge. As for her contract, he assured her he'd be happy to oblige, provided they survived both the battle and the prospective missile strike.

The detonations had violently rocked the entire Garden. She'd huddled herself into a ball, fully expecting the ceiling to come crumbling down on top of her. It wasn't until the commandant's announcement sounded over the intercom that she'd dared open her eyes. After their crash into the sea, she'd helped the headmaster to his feet, and followed him out of the infirmary and up to his quarters.

There they'd discovered the looming metal pillar, and the control center for the newly mobile Garden atop. Xu was nowhere in sight, nor Squall and Quistis. After a moment of awestruck silence, Cid had ducked into his office. He'd returned with a keycard for Rinoa. As opposed to the guest room on the 16th floor she'd had for the night of the ball, this time she would be sleeping in the dormitories. He'd explained it would be safer for her there; the Thorns' living quarters were also situated on the upper levels. She'd taken her leave just as the commandant returned with a crew of technicians.

Her sleep had been adequate; a mattress and pillow of any kind were welcome after such a grueling day. Still, her restless mind roused her several times throughout the night. She'd eventually gotten up at just after eight-o'-clock, and made her way to the cafeteria for breakfast. Afterwards, she'd circled the atrium to the library, taking care not to get in the way of the repair efforts. She'd made for the mythology section, scanned the shelves, and selected a volume entitled 'The Whereabouts of Hyne'.

The insert summary explained the book was first written nearly 500 years ago by a historical scholar named Temu. It was a comprehensive account of the sorceress legends through the ages, and their alleged connection to the mythical deity, Hyne. It was hardly light reading, but nothing Rinoa couldn't handle; the sorts of texts her father had compelled her to study in her youth had given her a solid literary foundation. She'd started poring over it at one of the reading desks, until the exhaustion set in once again. She desperately needed more caffeine to keep her awake. The pigtailed girl at the front desk hadn't even asked to see her student ID when she'd checked out the book; clearly, this was no time to be hung up on minutia.

There she'd sat in the cafeteria for the last hour, working her way through the old scholarly text. If she were to contribute to the fight in any meaningful way, it would do her good to brush up on what little information there was on the sorceress' power. Though treated as folklore in print, her own experience inclined her to believe there was much more to these fairy tales.

The origin of the sorceresses, or witches as they were more commonly called by the people of the time, was thought to be alluded to in the age-old legend of Hyne. It was written that with the formation of the planet from the celestial ether, so too had the first savage life emerged from the primordial sea. The great god Hyne had set about cleansing the world of these beasts with his all-powerful magic, and named himself its governor. He built a throne for himself atop a tall mountain from which to oversee all, yet there stood another impeding his view of the eastern sea. He'd become too tired from his relentless battles to destroy it. With what magic he could still muster, he forged a set of living tools to tend the land in his stead, and put them to work. This was the alleged origin of the human race.

When they'd finally chiseled away the mountain, the people asked for Hyne's guidance. But the god had fallen into a deep sleep from which they could not wake him. With no one to guide them, they set about molding the land to suit their own needs. They multiplied over the ages, spreading far and wide. When Hyne at last awoke from his slumber, he was startled by how many humans there now were, and the changes they'd made to his world. He sought to reduce their number by striking down their newborn children. This enraged the people, turning them against their creator. Despite his almighty power, the humans had grown too numerous to quell altogether.

And so, Hyne had broached a truce: he would give unto them half of his own body and power as a peace offering. The people agreed. However, they quickly began to fight over who among them deserved to partake of the god's magic. Disparate clans were formed, establishing as many nations across the land. A long, bloody war began, with the eventual victors being the clan of the 'dark king' Zebalga. With the half of Hyne's body in their possession, the king and his advisers convened to command its power. And yet, no matter the methods they employed, it would not obey their commands.

Zebalga then summoned the wise Sage Vascaroon for his consultation, who determined that the 'half of Hyne's body' was in fact his corrupt, cast off skin, which held no power about it. Humanity had been deceived by the god, and turned against one another for their defiance. Enraged, the Zebalga clan vowed to hunt down and destroy the lingering magic of Hyne, wherever he may have hid himself away.

The story was undeniably one more steeped in allegory than history, and was likely even an amalgamation of various stories which originated around the same time. Its connection to the later sorceress legends was stipulated to be the 'magic of Hyne' from which his 'cast off skin' had been shed. It eventually came to be believed that Hyne had concealed his power in the bodies of chosen women. Such rumors continued to spread across the land over thousands of years. Witch hunts sprang up at the mere mention of any female claimed to have shown unnatural abilities, with innumerable executions carried out for generations prior to Temu's writing.

The earliest surviving account of a sorceress dated back more than 1,000 years, to the reign of King Odin in ancient Centra. A woman said by the common folk to have magical powers was summoned before the king, himself supposedly a descendant of King Zebalga. He decreed she be put to death for her treachery, to which she pleaded with him for an accord. She made him a proposition: in exchange for her life, she would use her magic to enchant the king's prized scimitar, Zantetsuken. Intrigued, Odin acceded. At her command, the sword became a divine instrument with the power to slice through any and all earthly matter. In return, the king stood by his word, and even appointed her to his council.

His reign continued for a while longer. Yet as time went on, his health gradually worsened. No matter the healing he sought from his new aide, nothing seemed to avail him. It soon progressed to where he could scarcely leave his palace. Unbeknownst to all, the sorceress' enchantment had been a curse; Zantetsuken's newfound power came at the cost of the life force absorbed from its wielder with each slice. As he continued to make use of it indiscriminately, King Odin was slowly dying.

One night, when he no longer could rise from his throne, he called forth his council for a meeting to determine the kingdom's future. Seizing the moment, the sorceress wrested the king's sword from him, and cleaved him from head to toe in a single swing. In her vengeful rage however, the blade's power had torn through more than Odin's body and throne. A gaping rift in the very fabric of the world had been opened by the slash. A mysterious, pale-skinned swordsman in tattered red rags had stepped forward from beyond, and engaged in battle with her before the council.

The unknown warrior had countered the woman's magic with spellcraft of his own, and soon overwhelmed her. He mercilessly carved her limb from limb with his dual blades. Still, she clung to life. It was then that she revealed to all present the terrible destiny her kind had been condemned to: until her holy gift could be passed on to a suitable successor, the power a sorceress held would leave her unable to rest in peace. The council dared not subject one of the kingdom's young girls to such a fate. With the assistance of their enigmatic savior, they escorted the captive sorceress out of the city under cover of night, and made for the coast. There, she was given a live water burial, her still-breathing remains sunk to the bottom of the ocean. As repayment for his service, the swordsman took up Zantetsuken as his own, and disappeared into legend.

Although Odin's name was listed in the Centran historical record of kings, the tale held little credence besides. Even at only 500 years from Temu's chronicle, the scholar claimed there was no evidence to support it. It was more likely a natural illness that had taken Odin's life. The legend could then have been propagated by his advisers as a means to deify their ruler, and ensure his legacy lived on.

Rinoa didn't know what to make of either story; such folktales were far from the sort of reading material her father had foisted on her. What little she knew of sorceresses had come from the war. Just as then, one such woman had usurped control of an entire country with the execution of its leader. Edea now carried on a long legacy of betrayal, allegedly set in motion by Hyne with his first great deception of mankind. Rulers of renown had been served their reckoning at the hands of these witches. A heavy weight fell on her heart. Anyone so conniving and mighty would be a fearsome foe, indeed.

"Rinoa!"

Her eyes shot up from the book. She turned them towards the call to see Squall working his way across the cafeteria. She rose to meet him, placing the book on the table. The tear in his jacket told her he hadn't changed clothes since last night. She was in no position to judge; she was still dressed in her duster sweater, torn ragged by the lizard creatures. It was all she had. She made a mental note to ask Cid for a uniform the next time she saw him.

"Hey," she said. "Where's Quistis? I can't believe you two actually-"

"She's waiting for us," he cut her off. "I need you to come with me, right now."

"What for?"

His serious tone of voice unsettled her. His steely eyes were no more reassuring.

"Just come on. It's important."

Rinoa hesitated. His refusal to tell her what was wrong put her on edge. Regardless, the last two days had given her no reason not to trust his judgment. She nodded, and swiveled back around to grab the book on the table. She was forcibly pulled back into place. Her eyes went wide as Squall suddenly wrapped his arms around her. Instantly, her nervousness became incredulity, not merely for the hug itself, but how completely out of character it was for him. She stayed frozen in his embrace, deliberating whether or not to push him away.

"S… Squall?" she finally eked out.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear, not letting go. "I wish you'd never gotten involved… and that it didn't have to come to this."

She lingered in his arms, thoroughly confused, before she finally brought hers around him to reciprocate. They stood clinging to one another by the window for a time, until Squall finally released his hold and backed away. She stared into his eyes, wondering what had possessed him to do something like that. There were no answers in his blank stare.

She pivoted back around, picked up her book, and stored it in her rear pouch. She then reached for her empty coffee cup, pushed in her chair, and followed after Squall. After a brief detour to throw the cup away, they made for the exit. Her breath caught in her throat as they neared. A pair of robed faculty stood waiting for them.

"This is the one?" the first spoke to Squall. "Know that if the Master deems this a waste of his time, the consequences will be severe."

"I'm sure he'll be more than satisfied," he answered.

"Then, so be it. Relieve her of her effects."

"Squall?" Rinoa anxiously said as the second Thorn moved in. "What's going on?"

"I told you, I'm sorry," he muttered as the man began patting her down. "Just cooperate with them, and you'll be safe."

His words gave her no comfort. Before she knew it, her storage pouch had been confiscated. Satisfied, the lead Thorn turned around, and started back to the atrium. A pit gathered in her stomach as she was marched down the hall. They wrapped around the outer ring to the ruined directory, up to the central platform, and into one of the glass elevators. As the door closed and the lift began to lower, she felt a very real fear take hold. She kept her eyes trained to Squall as they descended. He kept his own trained forward, and did not so much as glance back.

The lift stopped in front of a pair of elegant muraled doors. They opened to a wide chamber crowded with assembled Thorns. As she stepped out after Squall, she noticed Quistis further down the stretch of red carpet. She was surrounded on all sides by a sub-set of the robed aides, all armed with knives. Her mounting dread became disgust as she finally noticed the bulbous, yellow creature at the end. She and Squall were led to stand before him at Quistis' side. Rinoa locked eyes with hers, puffy and red.

"Quistis," she began in a shrill whisper. "What's happen-"

"Silence!" the nearest Thorn roared. "You shall speak only when Master Norg addresses you!"

She clenched her jaw, and turned her eyes up to the hideous, toad-like creature in his metal pod. The Garden Master's beady black eyes swept over her. He brought one of his massive fingers to just under his grotesque, dangling chin, stroking it in contemplation. Seconds passed in total silence. She didn't dare break eye contact with him for fear of showing disrespect. A gurgle escaped his throat the next moment.

"Is this not the same girl who was standing beside Edea on the broadcast?" he spoke in a deep, booming voice.

"I present to you, Rinoa Caraway," Squall introduced her. "Daughter of General Caraway of the Galbadian army."

The Garden Master immediately burst into a heaving fit of laughter. Rinoa reeled back as the reverberations bounced off the walls.

"Caraway's daughter?" Norg smiled sickly. "Is this true?"

She had no idea what kind of situation she'd just been pushed into, nor if telling the truth was the right move. She glanced again to Squall for any kind of cue. Nothing. Having already been outed, there was nothing for her to gain by denying it.

"It… it is," she stammered.

Another fit of laughter from the Garden Master followed, its reason seemingly known to all but her.

"I must say, this might just be the greatest gift I've ever received," he smiled, turning his attention back to Squall. "Consider your debt paid in full. As promised, you and your comrade are free to go."

"Our weapons?" Squall asked.

His gaze pivoted off to the side. Following his line of sight, Rinoa saw a pair of Thorns holding his gunblade and Quistis' whip.

"They will be delivered to your quarters within the next few days. I'm a very cautious man, you understand."

"I'd expect nothing less," Squall acceded. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you. Let's go, Quistis."

He turned around, and started back to the elevator. As Rinoa watched him go, she realized the congregation of Thorns were now slowly advancing on her from all sides.

"Squall?!" she called out to him. "What's going on?!"

No response; he didn't break stride as he continued down the carpet. She frantically whipped her head to Quistis, and ducked back as her arm came flying out.

"Rinoa!" she shouted as she stepped forward to shield her. "I'm sorry. I know we've had our differences… and maybe I was too harsh on you before. I'm not asking you to forgive me. But I'm not about to just walk away and let Squall do this to you!"

The Thorns kept inching forward, knives held at the ready. The Garden Master chuckled with mirth to their backs. Though Rinoa could attest to Quistis' hand-to-hand prowess, she doubted she could handle them all unarmed. If only she'd had the foresight to keep Squall's magical sphere on her person, rather than tucked in her now confiscated storage pouch. Putting her back to Quistis', she readied herself for the hopeless struggle to come.

Suddenly, a shimmering purple energy barrier flashed around them. The Thorns stumbled to a halt as it sparkled, and faded into infrared. Rinoa blinked her eyes to be sure she hadn't imagined it. Before she could ponder it any further, an intense orange flicker by the elevator caught her attention. She squinted through the robed mob towards the intensifying light. Instantly, the reason for the hug became clear.

The fireball shot down the carpet at breakneck speed. Rinoa flinched as the blast hit the shielding. It reflected off the magical barrier, diffusing in a semi-circular wave of searing flames. The anguished cries of more than 20 men ripped through the chamber as their robes were set alight. Those not charred on the spot were sent scrambling. They fell to the ground, desperately rolling to put out the flames. Norg's enraged bellowing met her ears from behind. She looked on in awe, until she was finally snapped back to her senses by Quistis; she grabbed her hand, and hurriedly pulled her off to the side. Squall charged back into the fray. He sidestepped and shoved aside the flailing human pyres en route to the one with his gunblade.

"As soon as the coast's clear, I want you to make a break for the elevator!" Quistis hysterically instructed her. "Do you understand? Let us handle this."

Rinoa nodded, and watched as she raced back into battle. Squall had retrieved his sword, and set to work on the Thorns still standing. One after another fell to his blade. Within 10 seconds or so, Quistis had retrieved her whip and joined him. By then, only four were left. With as many more slashes and lashes, the confrontation drew to a close.

Flames billowed from the many incinerated corpses strewn across the hall, the robes of those not still alight blackened or bloodstained. Norg remained stationary in his pod. His gaping maw hung open as he looked on at the utter annihilation of his minions.

"You have nowhere to run!" Squall roared to him. "Accept your defeat, and we'll let you go the moment we hit land!"

Rinoa watched with bated breath; she stood in the midst of history in the making. For the second time in 3 days, the head of one of the world's mightiest military forces had fallen victim to a conniving act of betrayal. Not at the hands of a sorceress, but a soldier with every ounce of wit and subterfuge. Norg let out another gurgle, this time clearly born out of seething rage.

"You!" he bellowed. "You think you're such a crafty little miscreant, don't you?! You think you can just steal my life's work away from me like this?! This is my Garden! Its history begins and ends with me!"

He drew back one of his hands into the pod. It returned a moment later with a small metal orb clutched between his finger and thumb.

"Did you really think I would approve of the entire student body being trained with those spheres, and not keep one for myself?! And what a shame that unlike my kind, you human scum can't breathe underwater. I'll sink this Garden to the bottom of the ocean and start anew!"

A shimmering aura of deep blue light burst into prominence around Norg. It then flew from his grasp to land directly in front of the wide-eyed Squall. He backpedaled away from the light as it rapidly expanded. Once he'd put enough distance between himself and the energy, he sheathed his sword, and raised his own hand before him. A fiery orange engulfed him from head to toe, just as the brilliant white that had come over Selphie on the train, when she'd summoned her green rabbit. The frontal plating of Norg's pod began to lower on the other side, shielding him from the impending conflict.

The flames leapt from Squall's hand, twirling and dancing amid the fires still blazing all around the chamber. Before them, Norg's own fast materializing creature now threatened to touch the ceiling. A pair of blinding flashes forced Rinoa to shield her eyes. When she opened them again, two hulking monsters had freshly materialized before her.

A muscular, horned demon stood on Squall's side; its crimson mane was like a lion's, appearing all the more brilliant courtesy of the surrounding fires. Before Norg's sealed pod, a towering blue sea serpent had arisen from the ether. Its wide maw and flared snout resembled a dragon's. A pair of jagged, wing-shaped fins extended from either side of its long body. It was roughly three times the size of Squall's demon, a good 30 feet from its head to its coiled tail by Rinoa's estimation.

The horned beast dropped to all fours, and viciously charged ahead. It leapt high into the air, its razor-sharp claws digging into its foe's scaly exterior with surprising ease. The leviathan screeched. It began thrashing all about to throw its attacker off. The demon held fast, and before long, started climbing along against the constant turbulence. Rinoa kept her back pressed against the wall for dear life. Her better judgment told her to heed Quistis' order and make for the elevator. Her fear kept her rooted to the spot, regardless.

The demon's claws eventually gave way; it tumbled from the serpent's body to land before its summoner. Squall stayed frozen to the spot with his arm outstretched. His face remained tense as he fought to keep his familiar materialized. The beast rose to its hind feet with a roar. Searing balls of flame quickly gathered in both its hands. The serpent reared its head back in response, and opened its maw wide. What shot forth from its mouth was not another screech, but a torrential stream. The surge drenched the fire demon on the spot, extinguishing the flames gathering in its claws and those still licking at the bodies of the Thorns all around. The water reached Rinoa's ankles within seconds, its sudden chill causing her to jolt in place.

As the leviathan ceased its assault, a shimmer of dissipating light flashed at the spot where the demon stood. Squall had fallen to his knees; the concentration he'd required had been broken by his own need to shield himself from the flood. He was visibly exhausted, and certainly in no shape to face down the monster before him. It screeched again; the piercing cry echoed through the flooded chamber as it prepared to swoop in for the kill.

Just then, another flash of light exploded. Rinoa squinted her eyes through the glare, to see a slender, feminine figure suddenly take shape beside the collapsed SeeD. The obfuscation cleared to reveal a naked humanoid woman. She was clearly anything but human in appearance; her skin was pale blue, offset by elegant patterns in a darker shade cascading down her body, and a pair of flowing yellow tendrils on either side of her face. What accounted for her hair was made up of three drooping appendages akin to flowing drapery. Quistis stood a ways behind with her own arms outstretched.

The blue woman arched her back, and raised her hands to the ceiling. A gleaming sphere of energy materialized in her grasp. It whistled and squealed as it grew more potent, becoming every bit as bright as the light she'd emerged from. The serpent lunged forward to snap her up. She unleashed the power just as it reached her. The sphere diffused into a blast which enveloped the creature's entire elongated body. It was forcibly halted in mid-strike, instantaneously frozen solid in a block of ice. The water below became a thick sheet. Distanced as she was, Rinoa could still feel it turn deathly cold around her ankles.

The ice apparition charged forward. She smashed clear through the frozen leviathan, bursting it into dozens of fragmented shards. The shock-wave rocked the entire chamber, followed by another as she slammed into the Garden Master's frozen-over pod. Its metal facade crumbled away to reveal Norg, now quivering in abject terror; he surely wouldn't need another warning to accept defeat. The battle had been decided. The serpent's remains within the ice shimmered and faded from existence. So too did the icy woman.

"H-How?" he gasped in shock. "This can't be… this can't be!"

The stout, yellow toad hoisted himself up from the pod. He tumbled over its lip and onto the frozen stretch of lake with a thud. He righted himself, and hysterically waddled his way into the water. Rinoa's heart sunk as she realized he was headed for her.

"All my money," he wheezed. "More than a decade of my life… I won't let it all be for nothing!"

Given his plodding, sluggish pace, she could easily outrun him. He'd clearly become too accustomed to his pod over the years. As she looked past him however, there was no need; the swordsman in black was closing in fast.

Seconds later, the blade was mercilessly thrust into Norg's back. It exited through his gut with a spray of violet blood. He gagged and gurgled sickeningly, as yet more unnaturally colored vital fluid bubbled up from his mouth, and trickled down over his elegant ceremonial robes. He helplessly groped for whatever he could grab hold of with his enormous hands. Alas, every indulgence he'd ever known had slipped from him. With one last grim, bloodied gag, so too did his life.

Squall finally pulled the blade out, letting the corpse topple face-first into the water. Rinoa cautiously approached him. Unsettled as she was by the brutality, she was grateful he'd taken the initiative all the same. Above all, she was glad he hadn't actually intended to sell her out to the vile creature.

"Rinoa!" Quistis called her name as she drew near. "Are you okay? I told you to make a break for the elevator!"

"Sorry," she apologized. "I… kinda got caught up in the spectacle. But I'm fine. And about what you said before… I'm sorry, too. Thanks for saving me. Both of you."

"It's nothing," she insisted. Her face became stern as she turned to Squall. "And I think someone here owes you an apology for getting you involved in this mess in the first place."

"I already did," Squall muttered, sounding like a teenager being scolded by his mother.

"It's funny. Before, with everything happening all at once, I'd completely forgotten you'd given that to her. You're a very convincing actor, by the way."

"That night… you did say I was an excellent student."

Rinoa turned her head away; she knew all too well what was coming. The loud smack across his face echoed through the flooded hall. Her own cheek stung at the memory from two nights ago.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again!" Quistis fumed.

"It was the only thing I could come up with," he explained as he rubbed his cheek. "And it worked, didn't it?"

"Even so, it's just so disgusting… that you actually made me believe that's who you really are!"

"Um, I'm a little lost here," Rinoa cut in. She darted her eyes across the water. "But, you don't suppose we'll have any luck finding my pouch, do you?"

"It probably went up in flames with the blast," Squall said as he soaked his gunblade to rinse off the blood. "You didn't have anything else important in there, did you?"

"No. As long as I can get another room key from Cid."

I guess that's one book the library's not getting back…

"Then, let's go see him," he announced, sheathing his sword. "I've got a few questions for him, too."

"We do," Quistis agreed.

They both turned around to the elevator, wading their way through the shallows. Rinoa prepared to follow, when a faint glimmer in the water caught her eye; it was just barely visible through the purple haze around Norg's body. She reached her hand down to scoop it up. The silver casing of the sphere was still ajar, allowing the deep blue energy within to shine through its open slit. With a press of the switches on the top and bottom, the halves resealed.

"Rinoa!"

She quickly palmed it, and turned her attention back to the elevator. Squall beckoned to her from its side. She feigned an embarrassed look, placing her arms behind her back. She carefully slipped the sphere up her right arm warmer, and followed after.

Chapter Text

Squall took his finger off the door-open button as Rinoa stepped aboard and sidled into place beside Quistis. Both of them were still visibly rattled from the climactic standoff. It had taken all his fortitude to stay so calm, and all his wit to maintain the facade that had saved their lives. He swiped the keycard he'd taken from one of the many slain Thorns across the reader. As the indicator light flashed green, he pressed the button for the 20th floor. The doors slowly closed on the frigid, flooded hall. With one last look across the desecrated chamber to Norg's bulging corpse, the lift began to rise.

He took no pride in having deceived his former instructor, nor having involved Rinoa. By all accounts, he'd deserved the smack across his cheek from Quistis. And yet, it was all he could think of in that moment. His entire ploy had hinged on Norg's self-admitted drought of information. He very much doubted that Edea had permitted General Caraway to retain his position. That Rinoa had been standing by her side on the broadcast, and still remained alive even after Deling's murder, was all the proof he'd needed to imply a standing accord between them. Paired with Quistis' predictably explosive reaction, Norg had taken the bait.

The only complication had been the Garden Master's GF; Squall hadn't expected him to have one of his own, much less taken the time to train himself with it. It no longer mattered; the vile toad had met his end upon his blade. He couldn't take all the credit for himself, however. Just as on the shores of Dollet, he owed his life to Quistis' intervention. Now, with the revelations they'd been privy to fresh in his mind, an audience with the headmaster was his utmost priority.

The lift came to the top of the Garden within 30 seconds. He stepped out into the antechamber, where the elevators all met their end, and strode forward down the lone corridor branching off. He swung open the great oaken doors to the grand hall. The newly instated control center he and Quistis had brought up still towered before the bay window. A small team of SeeD technicians stood atop, engaged in whatever maintenance work they'd been assigned to. The headmaster himself was not among them.

"He's probably in his office," Quistis suggested.

She pointed to the door on the hall's right-hand side. With the technicians seeming to pay them no mind, they made their way across. Squall rapped hard on the door. After a pregnant pause, a muffled response came from inside.

"Who is it?"

"The returning team from Galbadia, sir," he politely answered. "We have urgent news to report. May we come in?"

A set of labored footsteps answered him. The door slowly parted to reveal Cid's wrinkled face in the gap. His dour blue eyes cautiously passed over them before he swung it the rest of the way open. Squall took the lead, gravitating to the fore of the mahogany desk. A curtained bay window lay behind, offering a picturesque view of the ocean beyond. On the other end of the room was a plush king-sized bed, framed by a walk-in closet to one side, and an elegantly crafted liquor cabinet to the other. An untied plastic bag brimming with tissue and broken glass sat beside.

"What kind of news?" Cid asked as he settled into his chair. "If you're here to give me your report on the assassination, it's quite alright. I can more or less guess what happened. The truth is, that assignment was never intended for your squad to carry out. The Galbadia Garden administration must have foisted it on you to help deflect any blame from themselves."

"We just learned that from Norg," Squall confirmed. "He told us everything. He wanted to offer us up to the sorceress to spare himself. We took care of him and his goons. Rest assured, you won't need to worry about him twisting your arm anymore."

"You killed him?!"

The headmaster's eyes behind his glasses widened. Squall did not have the courage to meet them, knowing the regret it would fill him with. No sooner had the thought occurred to him, his own eyes went wide. Since his first kill in Dollet, and all those that had followed, he'd repeatedly been apathetic to the blood on his hands. It had led him to consider if he might become one so depraved as Seifer, as Quistis had accused him of not even an hour ago. And yet now, complicit in the deaths of another 20 or so more, as well as the sickly humanoid creature, he finally felt something.

No matter how justified his actions were, he was no longer numb to their ramifications. The headmaster's approval genuinely mattered to him. Such a thing should have been meaningless, and likely would have been at any point before Edea's takeover.

What's happening to me?

"Good riddance, then," Cid finally spoke. He placed his elbows on the desktop, bringing his clasped hands up to his chin. "He's been nothing but a devil on my shoulder since we founded this Garden. I sometimes wish I could go back about 15 years, and tell myself he'd be nothing but a money grubbing son-of-a…"

He cut himself short, and closed his eyes in frustration.

"If I may," Squall delicately steered the conversation back on track. "I'd like to know what sort of agreement you had with him. What was he, anyway?"

"He looked like a Shumi, to me," Quistis spoke up from his side. "And a remarkably portly one at that."

"You're quite right," the headmaster affirmed. He re-opened his eyes to meet hers over Squall's shoulder. "A 'black sheep' of the tribe, one might say. The Shumi are generally a very humble and reserved people, artistically inclined by nature, and honor-bound to their old traditions. They dedicate their lives to their own individual crafts, always honing their skills in the hope of contributing to their society. Norg's was an exceedingly rare case. He rejected the lifestyle of his people, and left Shumi Village to find a new calling. As it turned out, he had quite the talent for mercantilism. Over the course of 50 years, he'd accrued a great deal of wealth, and established some very high-profile connections across Galbadia, Trabia, and Esthar.

"When I was looking to build this Garden, I needed a benefactor. My search eventually led me to him, and we hit it off. Better still, the connections he had with Odine Industries gave us a backdoor to take advantage of their technological advances, even after Esthar had closed its borders. It was through him that we commissioned a team of the country's best technicians to remodel the old Centran shelter. And how we later secured exclusive use of Guardian Force technology for SeeD."

"The Garden was built by Esthar?" Quistis reiterated.

"All three were. Atop other abandoned remnants of Centran architecture, no less. It makes me wonder if the other two could be capable of mobilization as well. Anyway, even with Norg's fortune at our disposal, we still needed an enormous amount of funds. My original vision for Balamb Garden had simply been an institution for underprivileged or estranged children with nowhere else to go. The very concept of SeeD had been my wife's idea. It was to be an elite force of trained combatants, standing at the ready in the event that Sorceress Adel or her successor might one day return. And it was Norg who eventually suggested turning it into a mercenary army, as a means of bringing in more funds for the Garden.

"And so, we began dispatching operatives around the world. Sure enough, a massive amount of money started flowing in. And that's when the Garden began to change. Slowly but surely, Norg's avarice began to whittle away at my original ideals, perverting SeeD's true purpose until it became something unrecognizable. I'd even wanted to expand GF training to Galbadia and Trabia Gardens, but that greedy bastard wanted to keep a monopoly on that technology. He knew it would bring more contracts to us, and by extension, more money to him. We should have been hard at work preparing for our ultimate destiny, which we now face today. Instead, I've spent all these years at his beck and call. It was my fault for giving up control. But maybe now, with him gone, there can be a chance to restore SeeD back to its true purpose. To the way my wife once envisioned it…"

"And that actually leads me to my next question, sir," Squall pivoted; his mind was positively swirling to keep track of so much new information. "He also mentioned that your wife… is Sorceress Edea."

"What?!"

Squall turned to Rinoa at his side. The girl, who'd stayed mum for the entire meeting thus far, looked utterly horrified.

"That's impossible!" she exploded. "That can't be true!"

"I'm afraid that it is," Cid spoke glumly.

The headmaster achingly rose from his cushioned swivel chair, turned away from them, and strode to the bay window. He stopped before the glass, staring out at the open sea before him, and heaved a heavy sigh. Squall's own breath caught in his throat.

"She'd been a sorceress since childhood. I married her, knowing that. I loved her more intensely than anyone I've ever known."

"I… I don't understand," Quistis spluttered in bewilderment. "You said that SeeD was your wife's vision… to prepare for the coming of another sorceress like Adel. How could she insist on something like that, only to become the very person she'd wanted to stop in the first place?"

"I don't understand it either, Quistis. I don't have the faintest idea what's happened to her. She used to be so sweet and lovely, nothing at all like those horrible stories through the ages. The Edea I knew lived so much of her life terrified by the power she'd received, and would never use it for such evil ends. I remember when she told me of her plan for SeeD, my only concern was that one day she might run afoul of the organization, if it ever came under the wrong kind of leadership. She just laughed and told me that would never happen. But…"

He paused. The built-up tension lingered in the air as he turned back to face them. Squall tracked his every move, fully enraptured by the recounting.

"Signing off on that assassination was the hardest thing I've ever had to do," Cid admitted, his eyes washing over them. "My only hope was that Irvine would be a better judge than I to determine the right course of action. And I hope you will be, too, Squall, Quistis."

Squall stood locked in a stare-down with the headmaster. To be charged with taking out such a powerful figure had been daunting enough, even without knowing of her connection to Cid and SeeD as a whole. At once, their marksman's reluctance to take the shot came into clarity but slightly.

"On your feet soldier!" he snapped to the downed sniper. "As your commanding officer, I am ordering you to take this shot!"

"I told you, I can't do it!" Irvine roared as he hoisted himself up. The rifle still hung by its sling around his shoulder. "Don't you have any idea who that is?!"

"She's evil!" he furiously spat. "That's what you wanted to know, wasn't it? If our enemy was really pure evil? What more proof do you need?!"

"And what happened to 'right and wrong aren't what separate us'?! You damn hypocrite!"

In hindsight, Irvine must have known of Edea's true identity. By Cid's own admission, it was the reason why he'd insisted on his assignment to the mission.

I get it now… but, it still doesn't make sense. How is it that he knew who she was, but we didn't?

"Headmaster!"

The interruption came with a series of hurried raps on the door. Squall instinctively turned his head, and watched as Cid made his way over. He swung the door open. One of the technicians who'd been atop the control center stood in the frame.

"What is it?" Cid asked the visibly anxious young man.

"We've managed to get the sonar system up and running," he saluted. "But we've just picked up a bogey approaching fast on the Garden's starboard side!"

"Just one?"

"Yes, sir. It's moving much too fast to be any kind of marine life."

"Do you think it's Galbadia?" Rinoa piped up.

"If it were, I'd expect it to be an entire fleet," Squall answered.

"It might be a scouting party," Quistis suggested. "Headmaster, your orders? Should we prepare for battle?"

"No, I don't think that will be necessary," he replied, turning back to face them. "In fact, if my hunch is right, it may well be our allies."

'Allies'? What allies?

"Starboard side, you said?" he addressed the technician. "Thank you for letting me know. As you were. Squall, Quistis, Rinoa, I'd appreciate it if you'd accompany me down to the observation deck on the second floor. Just in case I turn out to be mistaken."

"Who exactly do you think it might be?" Squall asked apprehensively.

"Not all SeeDs are kept stationed in this Garden. That's all I'll say for now. Let's hurry on down and see if I'm right."

The headmaster started out the door at a remarkably brisk pace for his age. Squall shared an uncertain glance with his group. Quistis seemed not to have any clue. Rinoa, ever the ignorant outsider, looked equally confused. With a reluctant sigh, he led the way after Cid. They moved back into the hall, down the stretch of red carpet, and out to the ring of elevators. They filed into the first available lift, and within 30 seconds had descended to the second level.

Squall could scarcely remember a time when he'd set foot on the floor. It must have been more than 10 years ago, during the earliest years of his primary education, for which the classrooms on the lower levels were exclusively reserved. Accordingly, each floor designated for use by the junior classmen also came equipped with a panic room to be utilized in the case of an emergency. They'd doubtless been put to use during the previous day's uprising.

Additionally, a pair of emergency escape hatches were set beside each of the outdoor observation decks, two to a floor. He recalled the routine evacuation drills from his childhood; once opened, each would deploy a yellow, inflatable slide for the students to take to ground level. As they circled the outer ring of classrooms to the starboard balcony, he took notice of the sealed hatch framed by plentiful cautionary markings. Without some manner of life-raft on hand, they would now be useless in the event of the Garden sinking.

Cid swung the door beside open. The calm ocean breeze cascaded through as he did. Squall raised his hand against the midday sun as he followed him through. He swept his eyes over the balcony's steel banister, and instantly caught sight of a ship tearing across the waves. Its design was unlike any standard military vessel he'd ever seen, but neither did it appear to be a civilian boat. It was painted sheer white, flourished by elegant gold embroidering across the underside of its lengthy fuselage. The wooded deck stretched out from a hollowed out alcove at the rear, where the cabins likely resided. A windowed helm sat atop. Behind, three large wing-shaped sails whipped in the wind. Closer the ship drew, slowing for a mooring at the Garden's side.

"What fresh hell is this?" Rinoa moaned from behind.

"It's the White SeeDs," Cid answered her. "A special unit of SeeD that Edea and I formed long ago. They operate in secrecy, independent of Balamb Garden code."

"Are they here to help evacuate?" Quistis pondered as the ship finally pulled alongside.

"No… or at least, not us. The White SeeDs were organized for one purpose alone."

And I'm sure you'll tell us any moment now, right?

Waves crashed up below the balcony as the ship came to a rest. Three crewmen on the deck craned their necks up to meet them. They were all outfitted in matching beige uniforms, with cream-colored headbands tied around their foreheads.

"Headmaster Cid!" the head of the group called up; he performed the SeeD salute as he did so. "We came as soon as we heard about the missile bombardment on Trabia Garden. Is everything alright?"

"Miraculously, yes," Cid responded. His tone was dour; it seemed Edea's preliminary target had in fact suffered a direct hit. "Thanks to these three, we were able to mobilize the Garden just in time. It's still all so surreal."

"We feared the worst when we saw the smoke rising from the Alcaud Plains," the leader continued. "The survivors in Balamb told us about the Garden's collision into the sea. I'm sure you know why we've come."

"Indeed. Perhaps it was a mistake to have brought Ellone here, after all."

Squall's blood froze as the familiar name left Cid's mouth. His eyes bulged. He was speechless, just as when he'd first heard it uttered in the waking world the morning before.

"Consider that a warning," Seifer smirked. "Don't play dumb with me. Edea knows safeguarding Ellone is one of SeeD's primary aims. Now, let's try this again. Where is she?"

So, it's true…

"It has become too dangerous to leave her here," the White SeeD concurred. "Permission to come aboard?"

"That won't be necessary," Cid assured him. "I'll make a call over the intercom, and have her come right out to meet you. Just wait here."

The headmaster turned on his heel back towards the balcony doorway. He gestured for the three in his midst to follow behind. Squall stayed standing by the guardrail, watching Quistis and Rinoa traipse after him. The girl in blue turned back to him before passing through. She shot him a questioning look; his unwillingness to follow hadn't gone unnoticed. He returned it with a firm gaze and a hand-wave. She quietly filed out, leaving him on the observation deck by himself. As the door closed behind her, he turned back around and peered over the banister to the White SeeDs below.

"Who is Ellone?" he called down to them. Perhaps finally, he might glean some concrete information pertaining to his dreams.

"Miss Ellone is the lady we've pledged our lives to keeping safe from the sorceress' clutches," the leader responded.

"Why? Who is she to you? And how is she connected to SeeD?"

"I'm afraid I can't disclose that kind of sensitive information to just anyone. Please understand that we have our reasons for operating in secrecy."

"Then just answer me this," Squall pleaded. "Does the name 'Laguna' mean anything to you?"

"I can't say it does," the soldier replied. "Now, if we're finished, I would appreciate it if you could keep your nose out of our affairs. You're welcome to stay up there if it pleases you; I don't have the authority to tell you where you can and can't be on the Garden premises. Just know that getting involved would be… unwise."

He turned around, and proceeded across the deck after his men. Squall backed away from the railing to prop himself up beside the door. Once again, he was left without any explanation for his strange visions, which had come for an unprecedented 6th time that very morning. He briefly considered if the shared name might have been pure coincidence; perhaps it were a different Ellone whom this special SeeD regiment had been tasked with guarding. He just as quickly realized how unlikely a coincidence it was. For Edea to be seeking a girl with that name, just as Laguna's Ellone had been stolen away by Sorceress Adel, was too much to write off as happenstance.

And yet, the notion that Edea herself had co-founded the White SeeDs ran completely counter to what he'd learned from Seifer. The incongruity was insurmountable. The sorceress must have deceived his rival with some twisted version of the real story. Why she would do such a thing still eluded him, and perhaps forever would. If the headmaster himself couldn't understand why his wife had turned down such a wicked path, what hope was there for him?

He continued to mull over the many tidbits of contradictory information, bordering on nonsensical as he tried to piece them all together. His focus soon came back to the White SeeDs on their ship below. Their beige uniforms were strikingly different to the black with gold flourishes traditionally worn by standard operatives. Still, the outfits were strangely familiar to him. He racked his brain to determine where he could have seen the attire before. He thought back to a time when life had still been so simple; a time when the Garden had still been firmly rooted upon Balamb soil; a time when Galbadia had yet to be usurped by the headmaster's estranged wife; and a time when all that concerned him was the legitimacy of his newly bestowed title. Finally, it dawned on him.

That's right. It was on the day we got the assignment to go to Timber. That morning, in the training center… they were the ones who were trying to fight off the malboro. The ones who were protecting…

Squall's tongue caught in his throat. Seemingly out of the blue, the answer to a question he'd too easily neglected came to light. He remained completely still with his back pressed up beside the door in astonishment. The creaking hinges roused him from his shock. He stepped away as it swung open. An exceedingly familiar White SeeD strode forward; he was the very same who'd seized hold of Squall's wrist when he'd tried to follow after the mysterious young woman from the infirmary. She emerged right behind him the next moment.

Her trimmed dark brown hair barely reached her bare shoulders, exposed to the ocean breeze by the sleeveless, light blue blouse she wore. Her white skirt whipped in the wind, as did the instantly recognizable green shawl wrapped around her. Her deep brown eyes met his. They widened, her face forming an expression to match Squall's own. Her bodyguard glowered at him, demanding he keep his distance. The second emerged onto the deck from behind and, noticing him, joined in on the silent stare-down.

"Please," she gestured to them with one arm. "It's alright. He's not a threat."

The two kept their eyes on Squall, yet obediently remained standing in place as she took a few delicate steps towards him. His heart pounded in his chest. He had no idea how to broach the many questions on his mind, or even if he ought to. There was still no guarantee this was the same girl from his dreams. Even if she were, would she ever believe something so ludicrous?

I need to know for sure…

"Are you… Ellone?" he finally stammered.

"I am," she sighed in return.

"The Ellone?" he anxiously specified. "The one from… Laguna's world?"

All fell silent but the sound of the ocean. The girl appeared to hesitate, shifting her eyes down and away from his. After a prolonged pause, a soft mutter reached his ears.

"Laguna's world… yes, I guess it would seem like a different world today. The passage of time will do that."

Although he'd already figured as much, the revelation that Squall had indeed been seeing into the past still shook him. More startling was the implication that Ellone knew of his visions. There was only one explanation for that.

"Are… are you the one who's been sending me into the past?"

It was unbelievable, but he knew it to be true. That she'd been by his bedside in the infirmary, right after he'd had his first experience as Laguna, was no coincidence.

"I'm sorry," she admitted, still not meeting his eyes. "I just… I had to try. I had to see if it would work."

"If what would work?!" he lashed out, momentarily startling her bodyguards. "And why me?!"

"I'm sorry, Squall," she apologized again. "There's just too much to explain, and I'm afraid I'm all out of time. I have to go now."

Ellone craned her neck back to the two White SeeDs. With a taut nod, they crossed to the balcony, and signaled down to their comrades on the ship. The girl turned back to Squall, himself still hunched forward in abject shock. She closed the gap between them, gingerly maneuvered her head over his shoulder, and softly whispered into his ear.

"Please… I need your help… you're my only hope."

Her parting words uncomfortably lingered in Squall's consciousness. They left him paralyzed as she backed away and followed her guards down the newly erected ladder. He kept standing there for what felt like ages. Before long, the White SeeD vessel relieved itself from its mooring, and began to drift from the Garden's side. He watched numbly as it turned away and sped across the ocean, cutting a swathe through the blue towards the horizon.

There he remained on the balcony, lost in thought, staring out into the distance long after the ship had vanished from sight. He spent well over an hour reflecting on every minute detail of their too brief exchange. Only when he finally noticed the sun dipping down did he see fit to head back inside.

The trek back to his dorm passed in a blur. Muscle-memory alone guided him there. By the time he lay upon his bedroom mattress, now devoid of any comfort it had offered him the night before, he could scarcely recall the steps he'd taken to arrive there. He stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the daylight peeking through his blinds as best he could.

'You're my only hope'… for what? Why me? I already have enough problems as it is!

He restlessly tossed and turned. What rationale did this girl have to use her inexplicable power to send him into Laguna's mind? That she was under SeeD's protection now was proof enough that she'd escaped Adel's clutches so long ago. Had some horrible fate befallen her foster father in the intervening years? Or were her motivations related to Edea's emergence? Whatever her reasons, Squall couldn't understand why he should be the one forced to shoulder such a burden.

Why do people depend on each other, anyway? In the end, you're on your own. I've made it this far by myself…

He retracted the statement as soon as he remembered the previous morning. If not for Rinoa and Irvine, as well as the moombas, he would likely have still been in the prison, leaving the Garden to be destroyed by the missiles. Furthermore, he now owed Quistis his life twice over. To say that all his successes were entirely of his own making was simply not true.

Fine, I'll admit that I'm here because of other people. I've depended on others when there's been no other choice, but… I have all the skills I need to survive on my own now. I'm not a child anymore… no, that's a lie. I still don't know anything. I'm so confused. Someone tell me… someone? So, I'll end up depending on others after all…

Feeling more conflicted and troubled than he could recall in a long time, Squall shut his eyes against the dimly-lit bedroom. He willed himself to slip away from the turmoil of reality, and into whatever comforting fantasy he could find refuge in.

Chapter Text

The boy slowly creaked his eyes open. They met the wooden rafters high above, supporting a grey stone ceiling. The stiff mattress he lay upon further assured him of his familiar surroundings. He groggily sat up, pulling himself free from the tightly drawn covers. Roughly two dozen twin-sized beds like his own took up the wide room. Each was neatly made, as was the expected morning routine. The walls lay bare but for a ring of evenly spaced gas lamps all around, now extinguished; the sunlight streaming through the windows on the far wall provided ample light. Such were the accommodations he'd awoken to for as long as he could remember, always with the other children, and until recently, his beloved Sis.

A chill suddenly ran down his spine. He remembered the fearsome man in tattered rags, openly bearing the two bloodied swords before him. The words he'd spoken, proof beyond any doubt it was he who'd taken her away, still rang in his ears. He'd tried to flee, only to be stopped in his tracks by the terrifying woman who'd magically appeared from a portal of darkness. The fear had kept him frozen to the spot. He couldn't remember anything more.

It was a miracle he'd survived. Or had it been a nightmare? It had all been so vivid, and his fear so intense. But then, so too was his desire to see Sis again. His loneliness had become so overwhelming, that at times it was difficult to convince himself that his day-to-day life weren't one long nightmare in and of itself. Had things truly become so bad? Had he reached a point where he could no longer tell the difference between reality and fantasy?

"Sis," the boy mewled with his head hung, eyes downcast to the woolen blanket over his legs. "Come back… please, come back… please… I miss you."

A rattling at the door broke him from his self-pity. His head shot up just in time to see it swing open.

"Hello…?"

"Hello? Squall?"

He drowsily cracked open his eyes to find Rinoa's own mere inches away. The yelp escaped his lungs of its own accord. She reeled backwards from his bedside with a shriek to match. He sat bolt upright. After a brief pause to calm his racing heart, he reached back with one hand to pull aside the drapery. The setting afternoon sun streamed on through the window and across the bedroom. With several labored breaths, he turned his ire to his unwelcome guest.

"What do you think you're doing? And how did you get in here?"

"I asked Quistis where I could find you," she candidly explained. "The door was unlocked. You looked so adorable, you know, sleeping like a baby. Sorry for scaring you like that, but… you were talking in your sleep. It looked like you were having a nightmare."

He prepared to give her a stern reprimand for intruding on his private quarters. It was then that her outfit, now revealed by the waning daylight, caught his attention. The torn blue duster sweater was gone. In its place was a familiar choice of attire he'd never imagined to see her wear. The navy uniform trailed down to a matching skirt around her upper thighs. Its shoulders were silver, each bearing the SeeD insignia. A set of black shoes and dress socks reaching up to her calves completed the standard female Balamb cadet uniform. That it cut such a dazzling figure on her was almost enough to derail Squall's train of thought.

"Why are you dressed like that?"

"Like it?" she teased with a smile. "Since I needed to ask Cid for a new room key anyway, I figured I might as well ask for some new clothes while I'm at it. Can't be walking around here in rags every day, can I? And besides… I was hoping you might take what I'm about to ask you more seriously if I came to you like this."

"And what's that?"

"Cadet Heartilly, requesting professional combat training, sir!"

Her voice was brazen as she snapped into her best attempt at the SeeD salute. The sudden outburst caught Squall off guard. A moment later, the intent behind her words brought him to incredulity.

"You're joking," he flatly dismissed her.

"I'm completely serious."

"No, you're not."

"Look at this, and tell me I'm not!"

Rinoa fell out of the salute. The hand she'd raised dipped into her uniform's pocket, and reemerged holding a small silver sphere. Squall intuitively knew what it was even before she extended it to him.

"Where did you get that?!" he snapped.

"It's the one that Norg guy had," she explained. "I want you to teach me how to use it."

"Forget it. You need to hand that over to the headmaster or the commandant right away. It's too dangerous for a civilian to be holding onto."

"Didn't seem like you had a problem giving me yours."

"I wasn't thinking straight when I did that."

It was half-true; the threat of the missile strike had caused him to act with more impatience than was the norm. More than that however, it had been the only gesture he could think of to keep her from following him and Quistis into the Garden's depths.

"Well, it looked to me like it was the only thing that saved you two this morning!" she fired back. "I'm not asking for much here! I mean, come on! It's the least you could do to make up for dragging me into something like that. And scaring the daylights out of me, to boot!"

"The answer is no. Norg is dead. The Garden is safe now. There's no need for you to learn how to fight with that."

"The hell there isn't!"

He flinched at her sudden swell in volume. Her usually benign brown eyes stared back with an intensity he'd rarely seen from her.

"I'm sick and tired of being a burden every time there's danger! I've already told you, I don't want you or anyone else to have to keep worrying about my safety. Like it or not, this is my fight too, and it's time I started pulling my own weight. And if I'm going to do that, then I need to become self-sufficient. I need to learn how to protect myself. Knowing how to use one of these things will help give me a leg up. So please, Squall… teach me how. This isn't an order. It's a favor… for your sake as much as mine."

Her tenacity and self-determination were admirable. Clearly, this was not the same spoiled princess he'd known back in Timber. It was enough for him to take her at her word, though he remained apprehensive all the same.

"Why me?" he asked. "Quistis is the one with teaching experience. If you're so serious about this, then why don't you go to her about it?"

"Because I want to learn from you," she blurted out, her tone now firm yet cordial. "Is that really so much to ask? It's not like you're busy. I heard we're not going to be heading back ashore until the repairs are finished, anyway. So, what do you say?"

Squall sighed. He turned his eyes away from her, bringing up his wristwatch. The display read 18:14; he'd been asleep for barely 4 hours. It was then that he realized he'd eaten nothing for the entire day. Coupled with the exhaustion he still felt from the previous day's mad dash home, and the morning's confrontation with Norg, any training would have to wait until tomorrow, fittingly the first of the month. The question remained, however: did he really wish to spend his free time teaching Rinoa to use a power she had no business wielding? And perhaps more importantly, would she accept any other answer?

She's got the SeeD spirit, that's for sure.

"Tomorrow morning," he grumbled. "Meet me at the training center entrance at 0800 sharp, and we'll see just how serious you really are."

"Yes, sir!"

The sprawling botanical expanse had changed little since Squall's last visit a week before. There were no signs of leftover carnage from the uprising, owed either to a quick cleanup job, or the training center having not been an active front in the battle. The latter wouldn't have surprised him; given the many forms of vicious wildlife housed within, there was no chance Cid's loyalists would have risked bringing him there. Squall had already seen firsthand the complications Ellone's bodyguards had with the malboro. He hoped to be suitably prepared should another creature intrude on his session with Rinoa.

Much to his surprise, and even delight, his fresh trainee had met him at the entrance airlock a full 10 minutes before their agreed upon time. Her punctuality convinced him this was not a decision she'd made lightly. Whether she would have the persistence required was another matter. They'd proceeded inside, and made their way to Squall's clearing of choice for whenever he came to practice his form. After several minutes spent collecting dried-out kindling from the surrounding woods, he returned to find Rinoa seated on the rock formation in the center. He strode up to her side, and dropped the gathered twigs on the barren earth just around.

"What's all that for?" she asked as she dropped down. "Are we starting a campfire?"

"You guessed it," he responded, bundling the sticks together into a single clump.

"Why? You're not gonna make me hunt something and cook it, are you?"

"Are you going to chicken out if I say yes?"

Satisfied with the amount of kindling, he rose from his knees, and took a deep breath. He'd only just attained SeeDship roughly two-and-a-half weeks before. Taking on a student of his own, however informally, was daunting.

"First, let's cover the basics," he began, detaching his sphere from his belt and bringing it up between them. "I'm going to be running through this pretty quickly, so pay attention. In essence, a Guardian Force is its own independently functioning energy field contained within one of these spheres. The gap that opens when you activate it has been measured to let just the right amount of energy seep out, and intermingle with the physiology of whoever's holding it. Any more than that could be volatile. Needless to say, these aren't toys."

"I never thought they were," Rinoa insisted. She stared down at her own sphere clenched in her hand.

"It still needs to be said. Zell found that out the hard way when he tried to disassemble his a couple years back."

"Yeah, I think you two mentioned that back at the hideout in Timber. Knocked out all the electrical circuits in the dorms, right?"

Squall paused for a moment. He couldn't immediately recall if the incident had indeed come up then. That Rinoa knew the outcome was proof enough it must have. In the midst of his reflection however, the realization that Zell could very well be dead came roaring back. A pang of guilt shot through him. How could he speak so casually of him?

"That's… a good memory you have," he brushed the matter aside. "Now, let's see if we can put it to use with what I'm about to tell you. The various schools of spellcraft a SeeD can make use of are divided into 2 categories. The first is generalized spellcraft, which are some of the more basic forms. These involve channeling the sphere's pure, unfiltered essence to form non-elemental conjurations, such as defense spells for blocking physical and magical attacks. Anyone with proper training can call upon these kinds of spells.

"What makes each GF distinct is the second category: elemental spellcraft. The energy within each sphere is tied to its own specific elemental nature. This determines which types you'll have the best success with. There are 7 primary elemental schools in total: fire, water, earth, ice, gravity, lightning, and wind. There's also the school of holy spellcraft, which is extremely rare. I only know of 2 people with spheres of that elemental disposition…"

He trailed off, remembering the crest of Galbadia etched on Selphie's bronze sphere. He still had no explanation for the illegitimate GF's existence, or how it could have been manufactured by any organization besides Odine Industries. The true nature of the energy was a closely guarded secret from all, likely including the headmaster himself. To produce a functioning counterfeit would necessitate insider knowledge from within Esthar. Clearly, it had been achievable, leaving Squall to fruitlessly ruminate as to how and why Selphie had it. More concerning still was the possibility that she'd been a spy in their midst all along.

Was the reason the missiles came because of-

"This is a lot to take in," Rinoa piped up.

"Sorry," he muttered. "The point is, each sphere has a pre-determined affinity towards and against certain kinds of spellcraft. The most important part of GF training is to recognize these strengths and weaknesses, and to focus on mastering the school your own is best suited for. Take me, for example. My sphere's elemental disposition is fire, which leaves me at a disadvantage when it comes to water and ice spells. It doesn't necessarily mean that I can't use those kinds of spells, but that compared to my strong-suit, or any other element, the potency will be much weaker."

"I think I get it," she hummed, staring back down at her own GF. "So, this one's a water sphere, right?"

"Correct. That means fire and lightning are your weak points in the elemental magic cycle."

"But I can still use the other ones, like ice or wind, right?" she looked to him with pleading eyes.

"With enough training, yes. But they'll never be a substitute for your GF's primary element. There's no use being a jack of all trades if you don't have a firm grasp on your own strong-suit. That's what we're going to be focusing on today."

Squall depressed the switches on his sphere with one hand, and trained his other to the kindling at his feet. A flurry of fiery sparks came to life within his outstretched glove. They shot from his palm. Within seconds, the flames began to spread across the dried twigs.

"We're going to have you use your water spellcraft to put this out," he explained. "It's all a matter of concentration. You have to feel the GF's energy around you, hone in on its frequency, and let it wash over your mind. It's not easy to put into words, but you'll know if you're doing it right. Then, just imagine the water flowing out of your hands. You can close your eyes if it helps you to concentrate. That's about all the advice I can give. It's up to you to figure the rest out on your own. Let me know when you've made progress."

"Wait!" Rinoa called out as he turned away from the pyre. "You're not just going to leave me here all by myself, are you?!"

"My job is to watch the treeline for monsters," he explained, not breaking stride. "You said you were serious about this? Prove it. Oh, and before I forget, no lunch until you can at least make a light sprinkle of droplets. So, get practicing."

He didn't turn back to see her expression, but could imagine it perfectly. The conditions he'd laid down for her were the same that had been expected of him when he'd begun training 3 years before. His first task had been to set alight a wooden training dummy by the day's end, or be sent back to his quarters with an empty stomach for the night. It had taken several hours of mental fumbling to identify the energy frequency around him, and channel it into a faint sputter of flames. If Rinoa were as determined as she claimed to be, he expected it would take her as long.

The remainder of the morning passed in relative silence. Squall routinely circled the clearing, his eyes darting all about the surrounding trees for any sign of movement. Only twice did he notice incoming wildlife from the northern edge. The first time had been a funguar, a bulbous and generally docile species of plant creature known to release noxious spores when threatened. Squall's very approach had been sufficient to send it fleeing back into the woods.

The second had been a creature of significantly greater concern: a slithering hedge viper, nearly 10 feet in length. The venomous snake's muted dark green was adorned with spots of yellow and brown, giving it perfect camouflage within the training center's dense forestry. Unsuspecting cadets who'd been bitten by one accounted for more admissions to the infirmary than from any other creature. The serpent fell to Squall's gunblade all the same; its scaly body parted like butter with a pull of the trigger. No matter the threat it had posed, it was far from the deadliest monster in the artificial wilderness. The malboro from before was proof of that.

Every so often, he would scour the thicket for more kindling. Rinoa continued to strain over the fire all the while. By just past 1100, she finally called out to him. Sweat rolled down her face, both from exhaustion and the heat.

"Any luck?" he casually asked.

"Not yet," she admitted between breaths. "I just… I want to know… how long does it usually take to get it right the first time? Am I doing that badly?"

"As badly as most people on their first day," he told her. "It takes some getting used to. The important part is to familiarize yourself with the sensation of the energy frequency. Have you been able to get a hold of it at all?"

"Kinda… at least, I felt something different. But when I do, I just can't seem to hold onto it long enough."

"You can't let your thoughts wander while channeling the energy. You need to remain completely focused, or else the connection is going to fall apart."

"But how?" she threw her arms up. "How am I supposed to keep from thinking about anything while I'm trying to do something like this?"

"I didn't say you have to be thinking about nothing," he clarified; he knew now she would be reaching her breaking point at any moment. "I'm saying you need to keep focused on exactly what it is you're doing, and where you're directing the energy. In that moment, you shouldn't be thinking of anything other than the water flowing out of your hand, and your target. If you can do that, you'll be on your way."

"And it's the same for every sphere?"

"Every one. Whether it's my fire, Quistis' ice, Zell manipulating earth, or Selphie… using her element. The principle is the same across the board."

He could only assume Selphie's GF operated the same way as theirs. It was something he could never know for sure unless he were to attempt wielding it himself, an opportunity he doubted would ever come again.

"What was Seifer's element?" Rinoa suddenly asked.

The question caught him off guard. He'd fully expected her to be curious that he hadn't mentioned Selphie's element by name. He hadn't even considered to think of Seifer's.

"He… he had a fire sphere," he answered after a long pause. "But he never used it. He only completed the certification program because it's a requirement to become a SeeD. I don't think he ever learned how to summon the creature tied to it, either. He always had this stubborn hang-up about relying on its power, like it was a crutch."

For however misguided he'd always thought Seifer to be on the subject, the dedication to his own code of honor was something Squall had admired. That he'd so willingly thrown it all away for Edea's favor, and accepted the dark powers she'd bestowed upon him was utterly repugnant. Squall balled his fist in resentment. He turned his attention back to Rinoa, staring into her eyes intensely.

"Just by being here… for putting in the effort, of your own volition… you're already more worthy of its power than he'll ever be."

It was only after the words left his mouth that he realized just how out of character they were for him. He swiftly averted his eyes, his face now more flush than it had already been, so close to the fire.

"So… don't give up," he quickly summarized. "You've got the right attitude. That's what matters."

He turned back to his student after a moment's silence to find her eyes were no longer focused on him. They were fully shut as she reached out with one hand over smoldering pyre. Her face was the very image of stoicism. Squall kept his own eyes trained to her outstretched limb, waiting to see what, if anything, would materialize. Several seconds later, his unflinching stare gave way to wide-eyed surprise.

A light spray of water spilled from Rinoa's open palm. The volume was sparse, nowhere near sufficient to fully douse the fire. But then, Squall wouldn't have expected so much on her first day. That she'd managed to conjure anything at all was enough for now. The makeshift spigot that was her hand soon sputtered out. She opened her eyes, turned to him, and cracked a slight smile.

"It… it worked!" she beamed. "I guess picturing the fire as Seifer's helped a little. You were right. I just had to let everything else go, and keep focused on the moment. So… do I pass?"

"Again," Squall ordered. "Do it again. We're going to keep at it until you can do it on command. Come on, hurry it up!"

The following weeks aboard the drifting Garden passed by without incident. In lieu of classes remaining on indefinite suspension, all hands continued to be called into service for the repair efforts. Squall himself had been no exception; he'd been assigned to the main atrium via lottery on two separate shifts. Within the first week, most of the damage to the interior had been sufficiently patched, in addition to the outer courtyard and quad.

It hadn't taken long for the maintenance crew to deduce the Garden's controls. The headmaster had given the order to further distance themselves from Balamb for the time being. So long as repairs were still underway, and with the student body still unprepared to re-engage in combat so soon, it was the best course of action in the event of a Galbadian naval battalion arriving to survey the damage. They would find a smoldering crater where the Garden once stood, and assume the missile strike had been successful. Even should they venture into town and learn of the academy's mobilization, they would be without a clear heading.

Predictably, remaining detached from civilization at large had put strain on the cafeteria's food reserves. A strict rationing program had been implemented overnight. Additionally, a small division of SeeDs had taken to fishing off the lower balconies in the early morning hours, with varying levels of success depending on the day. Others had begun rounding up whatever species of edible wildlife they could capture in the training center, often intruding on Squall's instruction of Rinoa. Given the number of students who'd evacuated before the missile strike, as well as those who'd lost their lives in the revolt, there were naturally fewer mouths to feed. As the second week drew to a close however, it became increasingly clear that they would need to leave open waters soon to restock on supplies.

A return to Balamb was presently out of the question, as was heading ashore on the Galbadian continent. With Esthar shut off from the rest of the world, and Trabia too far north, they were left with no choice but to set course for Fisherman's Horizon. It was a quaint settlement at the center of the Horizon Bridge, established by Estharian expatriates just over 50 years earlier. What had previously served as a way-station had been appropriated and built upon, eventually growing to become an independent nation state much like Balamb. Squall had never been to the town before, and knew nothing of its people or customs. Without any other viable options, they would be dependent on their goodwill to give them a berth for at least a few days.

Squall continued to train Rinoa in the ways of Guardian Force control all the while. The girl had proven herself a natural once she'd gotten the gist of harnessing the energy, much to his surprise. By the second day, her water conjuring had progressed from a light shower to a focused stream, whereby she'd finally extinguished one of his campfires. Eager to keep pushing her development further, he'd devised a special challenge for her on the third.

He'd arrived at the training center early to gather 17 large branches from the surrounding woods, and hammered them into the ground in a circle all around the clearing. Once she'd arrived, he set them alight, and tasked her with dousing them all before the day's end. She'd been understandably disheartened; the sheer amount was a massive increase from just one the day before. All the same, she'd set to work without a fuss. When after many hours of fumbling, failed conjurations, and sweat both from the heat and strain, Rinoa had at last accomplished the trial, Squall finally revealed the purpose behind the number.

"Happy birthday."

Her exhaustion had immediately turned to disbelief; she'd stared at him wide-eyed and jaw agape, clearly at a loss for how he could have known.

"Your father mentioned it over dinner the night before the mission," he'd explained. "Since we're getting you used to this, might as well make you work to blow out your candles this year."

For a few moments longer, she'd remained incredulous. And then, a slight smile came over her lips, followed by a chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"Sorry," she'd stifled the laughter. "It's just so... like you to work someone half to death on their birthday."

Squall frowned; it was still a day like any other as far as he was concerned. To her credit, she hadn't tried to use it as an excuse to weasel her way out of the day's training.

"Thanks, Squall," she'd finally spoken, her eyes suddenly welling up with joy. "For remembering."

"Whatever. We're done for today, so get some rest. Tomorrow, we start branching out."

From that day on, their daily regimen would typically consist of elemental spellcraft review, followed by a focus on defensive magic, which she'd picked up just as quickly. She was still a ways off from being combat-ready by Squall's estimation, but had more than earned the right to keep the sphere for her own. She soon began to ask him about more advanced GF techniques such as summoning. He told her it would likely take at least a year to reach the level of expertise required. Disappointed, she'd then pivoted to the other schools of magic, to which he again reminded her it was much too early; she'd still yet to master her sphere's primary element. Eventually, he'd humored her with a single afternoon session dedicated to the workings of his various wind elemental techniques. Try as she might, the foreign concept of channeling the energy into her legs to amplify her movement was too much, and she quickly accepted a return to the style of spellcraft she was comfortable with.

Quistis would drop in to observe every so often, and usually offer guidance of her own. Performing in front of an audience, particularly his own former instructor, was a nerve-wracking experience for Squall. Never did she intrude upon or otherwise undermine the lessons however, and would often provide as much praise to him as Rinoa. Appreciative as he was for the encouragement, he could have done without the constant mischievous smile plastered on her face; she was clearly loving every second.

Tuesday, March 16th had begun innocently enough. Squall and Rinoa had eaten their rationed breakfast in the cafeteria, proceeded to the training center, and commenced with their morning routine. Quistis made her appearance close to noon, to observe and assist with keeping an eye out for approaching monsters; fortunately, the amount of hunting in the last week had significantly reduced the wildlife population. As Squall readied another fireball to test the resilience of Rinoa's reflection spell, the intercom's 4-tone chime broke his concentration. It echoed down from the speakers set high into the domed ceiling. Moments later, the headmaster's voice exploded into prominence.

"Attention, all students and staff. We are making our final approach to Fisherman's Horizon. Once we have docked, I ask that you please do not leave the Garden under any circumstances until you are permitted. We do not wish to paint ourselves as an invading army. We will be sending ashore a team of diplomats to discuss our terms with the ruling government. Until then, I repeat, do not leave the Garden under any circumstances. Thank you."

"So, what's going to happen now?" Rinoa spoke up, letting her shield fizzle away.

"No idea," Squall muttered. "We hope they'll let us stay moored here until we stock up on what we need, finish up repairs, and then leave."

"And if they don't let us?"

"Then we find somewhere else," Quistis answered as she strolled over. "We're not in danger of starving yet. This was just the closest and most out of the way place from Galbadia we had to go. I get the feeling they're not going to be too happy to see us, though."

"Because we're military?" Squall assumed.

"You don't know the half of it. The people who run this town are die-hard…"

She trailed off as the intercom's chime rang again.

"Attention, everyone!" the headmaster's voice ripped through the training center; he sounded audibly more anxious than before. "We are en route for a collision with the outer walls! Brace for impact, now!"

The gargantuan concave solar array was as immense as it was blindingly brilliant in the midday sun. Panel after raised blue panel stood within the depressed enclosure, spanning easily 400 yards in diameter. It sloped downward from its raised circumference to meet a lone two-story house on the central platform at the bottom. The home belonged to the mayor of Fisherman's Horizon. Twelve steep sets of stairs led down to it from all around the synthetic basin. All were presently brimming with gathered townsfolk. Atop the platform, a collective of senior officers sat at their tables, loaded down with paperwork, all awaiting their next victim to be brought forward for interrogation. A pair of guards charged with keeping the mayor and his wife confined to their home stood guard on either side of the door.

With the aide of his visor and sniper scope, Army Specialist Evans scoured the commotion. The mob of civilians stood tightly packed together around the central platform, and all along the staircases. Dozens of Galbadian infantrymen on the ground kept their rifles trained to the captives. He and his sniper regiment stationed high above did the same. So it had been since the platoon's arrival that morning.

They'd been given orders to round up the town's entire population for questioning. Their comrades back in Timber, who they'd parted ways with before starting over the Horizon Bridge, had been instructed to do the same. Evans' detachment had been sent on their way with significantly less firepower in reserve. For a settlement so staunchly pacifist, it would be more than sufficient.

"How long're we gonna stick around here, anyway?"

The specialist took his eye from the scope, and looked to his assigned sniping partner. He'd never worked with the soldier before; he was a straggler who'd lost most of his squad in a freak catastrophe, and been picked up along their route down the Great Plains of Galbadia. Regardless, after a laser-precise round of bottle shooting one night, the young Private First Class Morris had secured a position on the short-staffed sniper regiment with flying colors.

"Pretty sure it's gonna be an indefinite placement," Evans replied, re-fixing his eye. "That's what I picked up from the commander, at least. We left our boys at Timber a few days back, the second Dollet siege should already be underway by now, and I'm pretty sure Balamb's gonna be next on the list after that."

"So, we're jus' gonna keep goin' 'till there ain't a town not flyin' our flag?"

"Our flag? You think we can really still call it that anymore? But, hey, at least that peace-loving hippie of a mayor saved us the trouble of having to burn this place down."

"Can't argue with that," Morris sighed. "But I don't get what the point o' all this is. Why do we gotta round up everybody an' put 'em through the wringer like this?"

"Because we're looking for someone. Some girl named 'Ellone', I think."

"Ellone?!"

The amount of surprise in Morris' voice caught Evans off guard. He glanced to him with one eye.

"Something wrong?" he inquired.

"Nah, nothin', it's jus'… this is all fer the sake o' findin' one person? What makes this girl so special?"

"You're askin' the wrong guy. But that's what the witch wants apparently, and she's ready to comb over the entire world to find her. We'll probably be stuck here until they do. And if they don't, I bet they'll be sending us down the tracks to Esthar next."

Evans couldn't understand it himself. But then, it was not his place to question Galbadia's new ruler, no matter the treachery with which she'd usurped the president. He was but one of hundreds of thousands of easily replaceable foot-soldiers, sworn to serve his nation, despite his own misgivings with the mission. He knew for a fact that his sentiments were shared by virtually every other member of his entourage; there couldn't have been a soldier in the entire army without any reservations about them.

The incessant mewling and whimpering of the terrified citizens reached his ears on the breeze. All the while, they were shuttled up onto the platform for their information audit. As he continued to restlessly survey the proceedings, a sudden yelp from further along the raised circumference drew his attention. Craning his neck, he noticed a fellow pair of snipers with their eyes drawn away from the commotion in the center. They instead stared directly over his position. With a glance around the ring through his scope, he noticed such was the case for every other team on the opposite side of the solar array. He turned around from the basin's lip to see for himself.

"What the-?!"

A towering synthetic structure resembling a conch shell loomed just beyond the exterior sea wall to the north. Its vibrant blue, silver, and gold coloring shimmered in the sun, growing more prominent as it drifted closer. The deafening crash came seconds later. It burst through the barrier with ease. Steel screeched as the girders were torn asunder, sending a tremendous explosion of debris tumbling into the water below. The ground shook from the tremor, sending Evans toppling over.

"Holy shit!" Morris swore as he fought to keep himself steady. "That thing can move?!"

Evans opened his mouth, only to be prematurely silenced by hundreds of shrieks. He quickly righted himself and his sniper rifle. The corralled masses below had descended into chaos, pushing and shoving every which way. Those on the outer rim of the mob turned tail, and began racing up the steps to the top of the basin. Gunshots erupted amid the confusion, only serving to further agitate and alarm.

The people broke from their tightly packed ranks, many scattering beneath the solar panels for cover. All around, the other snipers had promptly set to work on those making the rush back up the encircling staircases. With a deep breath, Evans brought up his rifle's scope, and prepared to do the same.

"What're you doin'?!" his young partner demanded.

"What's it look like?" he scoffed. "Open season."

He maneuvered the targeting reticule over the head of the pack charging up the nearest staircase. The sensation of a cold steel barrel pressed to his cheek froze his trigger-finger in mid-motion.

"Good to know. I was gettin' real tired o' this shtick, anyway."

Chapter Text

The headmaster's insistence to remain calm had fallen on deaf ears. Squall and his two comrades rushed into the atrium, finding a buzzing swarm of cadets and SeeDs packed together around the elevators; there was no chance of pushing their way through. The three turned back down the hallway leading to the training center, and into the maintenance stairway they'd passed along its length. Several flights of steps later, they came to the second floor landing. Squall gingerly cracked the door ajar, taking care not to fling it open into the path of an oncoming student, and led the way amid a fresh wave of cadets to the port-side observation deck.

The wide, curving hallway mirrored the starboard side, where he'd watched Ellone take her leave with the White SeeDs two weeks ago. As they approached the doorway, crowded by students vying for a spot on the deck, he noted the emergency exit beside it. Perhaps it would serve its purpose shortly. Squall forcibly cleared a path for Quistis and Rinoa, and stepped on through the doorway to join the onlookers.

The town proper appeared to have been constructed around a winding, circular train depot shooting off from the Horizon Bridge. The long stretch of abandoned, intertwining railroad tracks now served as streets along the water's edge. They paved the way all around the looming, rusted central complex. Dozens of ramshackle homes stood erected in its shadow; they looked to be composed of various recycled building materials. Wooden docks extended out from the tracks, several trailing nearly as far as the sea wall the Garden had smashed through. More than 20 large windmills poked over top the surrounding barrier, kept in perpetual motion by the breeze. However soothing it felt upon Squall's skin, the sounds it carried to his ears brought him no peace of mind.

"Is that… gunfire?" Rinoa asked from his side.

Her sentiment echoed that of every other student among them. He raised his eyes to the height of the central structure. A horde of seemingly frantic townspeople spilled from over the lip and onto the upper tracks. They scattered in every direction, racing for the nearest downward incline to sea level.

"What's going on up there?" one nearby student pondered.

"Guess we really freaked the hell outta 'em," another piped up.

"But what are they shooting at if it's not us?"

"It's not them shooting!" Quistis declared; in an instant, all muttering around them fell silent. "There's not a gun in this town if there's a person who'd be willing to touch one! Everybody get back inside. Spread the word for all SeeDs who are able to prepare for battle immediately, and report to the second level for deployment. You two! Get over to the starboard side, and throw open the emergency exit. Start sending people down as soon as they're ready to go. Let's move, everyone!"

The students quickly dispersed back through the door at her command. The head of the pack kicked up a ruckus as he bellowed her instructions verbatim to everyone in earshot. As the crowd thinned in his midst, Squall kept his eyes fixed to the chaos afoot in Fisherman's Horizon. Soon enough, a swathe of blue and silver uniforms began their charge in the distance; they pushed along the lower streets from the bridge's west end. In an instant, Quistis' hunch was no longer mere conjecture.

"Squall!" she called to him as she ducked back through the door. "Give me a hand with this!"

He spun on his heel with Rinoa, and stepped back through into the bustling hallway. There they found her by the port-side emergency hatch, her grasp set firmly on one of the dual release levers. He immediately took hold of the one opposite. After a quick three-count, they both heaved hard, and pulled up with all of their might.

As a gust of wind whipped into the hallway, the sound of yet more rapidly pressurizing air came from Squall's feet. The long yellow slide promptly inflated with the speed of an airbag. It shot out from beneath the open hatch like a striking hedge viper, arcing over the surrounding waters, and falling on the edge of the encircling railroad tracks. The angle at which it settled was not especially steep. It provided a gradual decline for the gathering contingent of SeeDs to take.

"Listen up!" Quistis turned back to the first respondents in their midst. "You're to secure the streets, and make your way to the summit. There could potentially be a hostage situation in progress up there, so exercise extreme caution. Now, move out! Go, go, go!"

The squad of roughly 10 raced forward at her command. They seated themselves two at a time on the lip of the yellow slide, and took the plunge without hesitation. Squall shifted his gaze further along the tracks from where the slide had touched down, to see the one on the starboard side had been deployed as well. However resilient the constructive fiber was, he doubted it could withstand incoming gunfire. It was imperative that as many operatives be deployed as quickly as possible, while the Galbadian troops were still preoccupied with the fleeing townspeople.

"Rinoa," he addressed his student as he turned back to her. "Stay up here and help with sending people-"

He cut himself short. The girl was nowhere in sight amid the students swarming the corridor. He frantically darted his eyes left and right, hoping to catch a glimpse of her flowing dark hair. It was then that his gut told him to look to the one place he desperately hoped not to see her; that he felt so was reason enough to believe she was. His eyes landed on the slide, just in time to see Rinoa push off from the edge.

"No, wait!" he desperately called out.

He barely resisted the urge to lunge forward for fear of tumbling out of the hatch. Whether or not she'd heard him, gravity refused to comply.

"Looks like someone's ready for her field exam," Quistis dryly commented. She looked concerned, if not at all surprised. "Go on. I'll catch up once we've gotten more troops on the ground. Take care of her out there."

"You don't have to tell me," he snapped back.

He fell to his rear, and cast off. The wind whipped through his locks as he plunged downward, gaining momentum at an alarming rate. He raised his eyes to the looming central structure, growing ever more imposing as he slid towards its base. The stream of civilians cascading down the upper tracks had become a rampaging mob. Frenzied men and women raced down the curving roads, some holding tightly to children in their arms. Judging by the crowd's density, the hostage situation must have involved the town's entire population; the lower tracks where his comrades had touched down were certainly vacant.

Squall abruptly seized hold of either side as the flume met its end. He quickly maneuvered his feet over the edge and onto the rails. Rinoa stood amid the dispersing SeeDs not far from his position. Further along the tracks, the first batch of Garden troops from the starboard side had made landfall, spreading out down the west end the moment their feet hit the ground. Squall paid them little mind as he strode up to the reckless girl.

"What the hell are you thinking?!" he chastised her. She jumped as she turned to face him. "Don't just go rushing off into a war zone like that!"

"And don't you tell me to stay behind!" she countered with a determined stare. "I asked you to teach me how to use this sphere so I could pull my own weight. That's what I'm here to do."

He stifled the urge to remind her she'd only started training 2 weeks earlier; the fast encroaching chaos took precedent. Regardless of whether she would listen, there was presently no way for her to re-board the Garden to begin with.

"Stay close to me," he gave in, activating the sphere on his belt. "And get your shield up, now."

"Way ahead of you," she smirked, evidently satisfied with her small victory.

Squall quickly conjured his own protective barrier. Gunfire continued to echo down from atop the central complex; it sounded to be concentrated further inward as opposed to around the ring, where the civilians had scattered. The absence of snipers around the circumference above appeared to be a blunder on the Galbadians' part.

At an imposing 50 feet high or more, Squall knew his wind-leap technique would come up short, much less while carrying Rinoa on his back. He'd only just reached the 3rd floor of the Presidential Residence with Irvine hanging onto him, after a running start to build up speed, no less. The tracks had been laid down in the shadow of the upper lip; there was nowhere near enough room for such an approach. With most townspeople currently storming down the nearest decline to the east, they would have to find passage further along the tracks circling due west.

"Let's move!" he gestured to Rinoa. Together, they set out after his fellow SeeDs who'd already begun their charge into the fray.

The first offensive wave spread their formation as wide as possible; the limited space between the street-side houses and the water gave them little room to do so. The roads were completely devoid of ruin, carnage, or any indication of a struggle. Quistis' prior comment regarding their pacifist nature seemed to be on the mark. Hopefully SeeD's assistance would incline them to be more welcoming of their sudden imposition afterwards.

The enemy troops came into sight from further down the tracks. In terms of infantry, their number closely matched that of the SeeD forces. What cause for concern they'd brought with them trailed close behind. A pair of imposing, tank-like mechs rumbled and jerked, their treads fighting to stay balanced atop the rails running through the road. Both sported a cannon on the fore, with a spooling machine gun turret just below.

Assault rifle fire kicked up from both sides. The Galbadians' shots predictably pinged off the charging CQC division as they closed the gap. Squall kept himself and Rinoa to the rear of the platoon, on account of her inexperience with forming a shield. Even as the enemy troops started falling, the marksmen began their dispersal to the houses along the inside of the tracks. Taking Rinoa's hand, he forcibly guided her out of the tanks' line of fire. He sought refuge with her behind a nearby support beam to the central structure.

Two detonations came one after another the next moment. Squall reflexively brought his arm up before himself and Rinoa. The ground shook as shrapnel and smoke filled the air, rising from a pair of fresh craters incised into the tracks. Soaring steel and concrete spilled into the water and across the fore of the nearby houses. He strained his eyes to peer through the devastation. Several bodies lay motionless beside the wreckage, others bobbing in the water nearby. Before the haze could fully settle, a blinding light shot forth into its midst. It promptly overtook the ravaged tracks, rapidly growing in size until it exploded outward from its source.

The light faded away to reveal a striking humanoid female standing amid the rubble. Much like Quistis' own Guardian Force, the woman's slender figure was exposed for all to behold. By contrast, her skin tone was far more natural than the ice familiar's pale blue. The voluminous golden feathers sprouting from her back were arrayed around her, forming a makeshift open corset and skirt. Her hands bore sharpened claws, gleaming in the sun as she raised them before her. Her hairstyle at first looked to be comprised of two unnaturally long fringes trailing down to her ankles. In actuality, they were wings resembling an angel's, or a large bird's.

A pair of radiant spheres formed within the woman's talons, both clearly of the same holy energy Selphie's familiar had conjured aboard the train. She unleashed them the next moment, sending them careening at the two tank mechs. Surviving Galbadian troops scrambled for cover; those nearest the water dove in headfirst to escape the blast. Both heavy-armored vehicles detonated with a tremendous roar, putting to shame the damage they'd dealt to the decommissioned railway.

Squall swung his head back around the support beam for cover, holding tightly to Rinoa. He didn't dare peek out again until, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mystical woman's figure become engulfed by the light again. The energy dispersed in a flash. The familiar's conjurer then promptly stepped forward over the debris, with 7 additional SeeDs in tow.

"Keep pushing forward!" Commandant Xu shouted. "To the summit! Let's go!"

Her face was as stern and determined as Squall had ever seen as she drew her short swords. A cheer sprung up along the tracks as the SeeDs relieved themselves from cover. The combat specialists collectively resumed their charge, while the marksmen began picking off the surviving soldiers in the water. Squall shared a brief glance with Rinoa, still holding her by the shoulders. Her eyes met his, brimming with apprehension, but not the fear he'd seen after her close brush with death in Deling City. Satisfied, he released her, turned away, and motioned for her to follow.

They both fell back into formation with the offensive surge, bringing up the rear. As they progressed, he would perform routine checks over his shoulder to be sure they weren't being flanked. The throngs of townspeople had finally made their descent. They hurriedly dashed along the street for what safety their dwellings could provide. Before long, the platoon hung a sharp left at Xu's command, and continued up a connecting set of tracks to the apex. What few infantrymen they met along the way were easily dispatched by the frontlines.

It was only then that it occurred to Squall what a paltry detachment Galbadia had deployed. The logistics were sound enough; the town was compact, its population relatively low, and the probability of resistance even lower. Gazing out over the guardrails as they climbed, still more SeeDs and cadets continued spilling out from the Garden. The numbers were clearly in their favor. He'd yet to draw his gunblade, nor had Rinoa needed to fight thus far. As they neared the top of the tracks, he prayed that their fortune would remain favorable.

The squad fanned out. They circled in either direction around what looked like a massive crater spanning the full central structure. After a moment, Squall realized it was so much more. The concave basin was filled with more solar panels than he'd ever seen assembled in one place. Straggling civilians darted beneath for cover. The nearby set of stairs leading down laid bare its casualties, wounded and deceased alike strewn about without care. Oddly, a number of Galbadian troops lay among them, disposed of ahead of their arrival.

So, they did fight back?

The SeeDs made their advance. Some circled around the circumference, while others charged down the stairs. As his surroundings cleared, a pair of enemy corpses lying prone on the basin's lip caught Squall's attention. Both rested beside their fallen sniper rifles, their sheared-through helmets looking as though they'd each taken a shot from another high-caliber round. He briefly considered the possibility of friendly fire. It took only a glance down to the solar array's center to confirm his suspicions. Uniformed soldiers clashed before a rustic home on a raised platform below, locked in what appeared to be exclusively close quarters combat; what gunfire he could still hear came from further back along the lower tracks.

"What's happening?" Rinoa echoed his thoughts. "Why are they fighting each other?"

"Just get down," he ordered.

He quickly raced over to the fallen snipers, and shoved the nearest body aside. He then appropriated its rifle, flattened himself on the ground, and took aim on the platform. The conflict seemed clustered around two particular spots on either side of the house's fore. To one end, a lone, particularly scrawny soldier fended off several more with a pair of glaives in either hand. On the opposite side, another repelled similarly stacked odds with only his physical prowess. As Squall focused the scope on the man's hands, his breath caught in his throat; the rogue soldier's fists were encased in stone.

No way…

He swiveled the scope back to the puny first soldier. As he breathlessly observed the fighter wielding the dual blades, it became clear the style was not derived from any school of swordsmanship, but martial arts. The elegant flowing motion in each strike was unmistakable, at times appearing as though the two glaives were connected by an invisible chain. He was snapped back to reality as two incoming soldiers suddenly toppled over onto the platform, one after the other, well before coming into range of the blades. Their necks jerked violently as they fell, dispatched by a pair of well placed sniper shots. They'd certainly not been his own.

That makes all three… I don't believe it…

"Anything?" Rinoa asked from his side. "What's the call?"

"I… feel a little lighter," he answered. He set the rifle aside, and pushed himself up to his knees.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind. Come on. I have a feeling everyone here's going to be in for a big surprise."

Squall righted himself, and took off down the stairs before Rinoa could start pestering him. He kept his eyes down to avoid stumbling over the bodies on the steps. The steepness subsided as he drew closer to the bottom. His fellow SeeDs had come to a halt in the open stretch of space around the platform, watching the ongoing battle unfold. Xu, presently at the head of the group, held her arm out to signal a ceasefire. Whether or not she'd made the same observations he had, something was amiss. With plenty of reinforcements waiting in the wings, picking off the surviving troops would take little effort either way.

The last of the genuine Galbadian forces fell within 20 seconds. Finished, the two defectors shared a glance before turning to the crowd of onlookers. The taller of the pair allowed his earthen gauntlets to dissipate. What tension already hung in the air thickened to an entirely new threshold; not one of the SeeDs clustered around Squall dared so much as breathe. The smaller soldier dropped the glaives, and strode to the edge of the stage, appearing unfazed by the platoon of armed operatives below. The soldier reached up to take hold of their helmet, and with nary a pause to savor the suspense, hoisted it up.

"Booyaka!"

A relief unlike any Squall had ever known washed over him. From the very moment he'd bumped into her in the Garden atrium, he'd considered her a nuisance to be rid of. The discovery of her illegitimate GF sphere had only furthered his dislike, to speak nothing of the distrust it brought. And yet, as she stood atop the platform now, proudly beaming as she belted her victory cry, he couldn't help himself. The corners of his mouth curled upward all on their own.

"Selphie!" Rinoa shrieked from beside him. She suddenly dashed on by and through the platoon of bewildered SeeDs.

Without thinking, Squall was on her heels. The buzzing crowd parted at Rinoa's behest, clearing a path for him to follow. He reached the front just as she cleared the top step. There, the two girls met in an excited embrace. The second soldier stepped forward as Squall started up. He lifted off his helmet to reveal a familiar head of spiked blonde hair.

"Hey!" Zell called to him, his eyes alight. "Funny meeting you here, huh? Man, are you guys a sight for sore eyes."

"It's great to see you too," Squall replied. For once, he sincerely meant it. "And I'm guessing those sniper shots before were…?"

"Yup, he'll be right down," he confirmed as Rinoa released her hug with Selphie, and darted over to give him one.

"Did'ya miss us, Squall?" the brown-haired girl giggled. "Were you worried?"

"Of course," he said. "I was sure you'd been caught when the missiles showed up. How did you end up all the way out here, anyway?"

"We oughta be asking you the same thing!" Zell exclaimed as he and Rinoa parted. "And since when the hell can the Garden move?!"

"It's a long story on both ends, I'm sure," Xu interjected, having joined them on the platform. "Nevertheless, it's good to see that you're both still in one piece. You've done a fine job here today, at the very least."

"Don't go fergettin' 'bout me down here, sugar!"

Squall didn't need to turn his head to know who'd made the comment; the twangy inflection, so irksome before, was now music to his ears. He swiveled his head, meeting the sharpshooter's gaze staring up at him from beside the stage. The cowboy hat was missing, as was the helmet he'd traded it for. The congregation of SeeDs bristled at his approach, doubtless wary of the shotgun dangling at his side. It was to his benefit that he'd kept it holstered, and made his way down brandishing only a slick grin.

"And who might you be, sir?" Xu irately acknowledged him.

"A real character," Squall assured her as Irvine started up the steps. "But a damn fine marksman."

Rinoa intercepted him as he reached the top, and thrust herself into his arms for another hug. Squall stared back out over the platoon of SeeDs to the height of the solar array. An additional detachment raced down the stairs to the north, led by another familiar head of blonde hair. He could perfectly imagine Quistis' relief to see their 3 comrades alive. It was the same he felt now.

Everything's… alright after all…

"Ahem!" came a sudden hoarse clearing of the throat.

Squall spun back around. An elderly couple had emerged from the house and onto the platform. The man was outfitted in a khaki shirt with plain green trousers, his shoulder-length hair dark with streaks of grey running through. The woman just behind him was of a similarly plain fashion: fading blonde hair with a purple blouse and beige jeans. For what Squall presumed to be the mayor of Fisherman's Horizon and his wife, their wardrobe looked no different from the common folk.

"May I assume it's finally safe for us to come out?" the man asked Zell.

"Oh!" the young man snapped to attention. "Yes, of course, sir! Thank you very much for your cooperation. We've managed to secure the solar array, and the rest of our forces should be mopping up the remaining troops in town."

"I can see that," he muttered. He swept his gaze across the platform strewn with bludgeoned and beaten soldiers.

"There's no need to thank us, sir," Xu formally said as she stepped forward. "Commandant Xu Adrastia of SeeD, at your service."

"Mayor Dobe. But please, young miss, do not misunderstand me. I'm not thanking you. I merely wish to know when it is you intend on leaving."

All fell silent in the wake of his blunt remark. Quistis' platoon had arrived at the base of the solar array in the meantime, coming to a halt behind the now silent crowd of SeeDs.

"Y-yes, sir!" Xu stammered with a deep bow. "I'd like to sincerely apologize on behalf of our navigation crew for the damage we caused to your outer wall."

"And the rest of our town, I assume?"

"Yes, of course, sir. We only just discovered that our Garden is capable of moving. The base technology is quite archaic, and in need of servicing. We believe that's why we failed to come to a stop in time. In addition, our food supply is beginning to dwindle. With your permission, sir… we would ask you to please allow us to stay docked in the harbor until we have finished our repairs and restocking."

Silence again enveloped the heart of the solar array. Xu stayed hunched forward in deference all the while. Dobe shared a brief glance with his wife. Squall privately clung to the hope they would find the kindness to repay them for liberating the town. All the same, he prepared for the worst. At last, the mayor responded.

"I will speak with our technicians… presuming they are still alive… and have them assist with your repairs. As for your food shortage, and need to resupply… I'm afraid that is something I cannot abide."

"Why not?!" Selphie blurted out, appearing to either not grasp or care for the delicacy of the conversation.

"Is it not obvious?" Dobe rhetorically mused. "How do you think we manage to sustain ourselves so far from civilization? These waters have kept our town well fed for more than 50 years, and we have taken great pains to ensure the ecosystem stays viable for our needs. You can't expect us to allow your army to start fishing our port dry."

"We would only require enough to keep us fed for a few more days," Xu tried to negotiate.

"Even that might be too much for us to allow. I'm positive the number aboard your vessel far exceeds our own population. Especially now with…"

He trailed off, his eyes veering across the solar array. Squall followed his line of sight to the silhouettes of fallen townspeople and soldiers lining the ground. Although the body count was nowhere close to the Dollet casualty figures a month earlier, given the town's size, it was surely every bit as devastating.

"I understand," Xu finally conceded. "I'll pass this information on to the headmaster. Regardless, thank you very much for offering to assist with the repairs."

"So long as it helps you all on your way sooner rather than later," he coldly replied. He turned away back towards the house with his wife. "Good day."

What a crotchety old asshole…

"Excuse me!"

Squall spun around to Rinoa. He stared daggers at her, desperately hoping she was not about to say what he'd just been thinking.

"We're all very sorry for what's happened here today," she began. "But speaking for myself, I really don't appreciate the condescension. Why is it that you want us gone so badly?"

Squall's jaw fell open of its own accord.

What are you doing?! Just keep keep your mouth shut! They obviously have their reasons. You're just going to screw us out of what little goodwill we already have with them!

"Very well," Dobe responded in an irritable tone. He turned back around to face her. "The long and short of it is that military organizations of any stripe are not welcome here in Fisherman's Horizon. The very nature of your trade flies in direct defiance of our principles. Violence only begets violence, as we have seen so clearly today. We do not want any affiliation with your mercenary ilk. This town was founded on the belief that any problem, large or small, can be settled with peaceful discussion."

"And how'd that work out for you with Galbadia?" Rinoa shot back. "SeeD just saved you from having your way of life snuffed out. The least you could do is show a bit of gratitude, instead of festering like a stubborn jacka-"

"Rinoa!"

Quistis suddenly jumped in from behind, putting her hand on the girl's shoulder. Squall was so taken aback, he hadn't even seen her climb up to the platform. While he shared Rinoa's sentiments to a tee, he wouldn't have dared voice them aloud so brashly. Her apparent lack of a filter had all but certainly destroyed their chances of receiving any assistance at all.

"Gratitude?!" the mayor snapped. His wrinkled features turned fierce as he stormed over to her. "Be grateful to an organization like yours?! An army whose sole purpose is profiteering off of war? The nerve! Acting all high and mighty, like you've done us some noble deed. At the end of the day, all you lot care about is how much money you can squeeze out of every conflict."

"That's not true!"

Once again, all eyes fell upon one person standing on the stage. Squall darted his own every which way, before the realization finally sunk in. The outburst had been his. He froze on the spot.

"It's… it's not all about the money," he eked out, fighting to keep himself composed. "That's not what SeeD's true purpose is."

"Oh?" Dobe questioned, his focus now directed squarely on him. "Is that so? Then please, educate me. What is it all about?"

Squall's tongue became leaden. His mind raced frantically for something, anything, that might possibly appease the mayor. He knew the truth now. The truth that SeeD's mercenary stature had merely been a byproduct of Norg's stranglehold on the Garden. That the organization had been established by Headmaster Cid and his now-estranged wife to prepare for the coming of another sorceress. And yet, as he sucked in a breath to calm himself, such distinctions were meaningless. All that truly mattered was what SeeD meant to him, personally.

For what purpose did he fight? Cid and Edea's reason hadn't been the one that had kept him pushing onward for all these years. Indeed, the reason was different for each and every one among them. He could only share his own perspective of what it was SeeD stood for, or rather, what it was he stood for as a SeeD.

Here goes nothing…

"It's hard for me to explain… and maybe I'm not the best one to be explaining it, but… I also wish everything could be settled peacefully, just like you're preaching. And that there would be no need for violence like this. That we could settle everything with discussion, and come to a mutual understanding with each other. The problem is that there are times when people just aren't willing to listen. And it's in times like those, when fighting becomes unavoidable, that we must speak with our actions rather than our words. Especially when innocent lives are at stake, and our opponents are beyond reasoning with, like today. It's an unfortunate reality, but it's one that we can't just pretend doesn't exist. That's why I fight… why we fight, and why we'll continue to fight. We lay down our lives today, in the hope that future generations will learn from our mistakes, and come to work their differences out peacefully."

Nary a breath could be heard as Squall brought his speech to a close. He at last averted his eyes from Dobe's to glance around. Rinoa, Quistis, Selphie, Irvine, Zell, Xu, and every SeeD on the ground kept their eyes locked to him.

"T-that's all I have to say," he concluded, turning on his heel. "You don't have to respect what we do, or even thank us, but… I just wish you could be a little more understanding of who we are. We're not just a bunch of warmongers. I hope you understand someday. I think the world needs both people like you and us. Thank you again for your help. Good-bye."

He kept his eyes downcast as he retraced his steps back across the platform. The silence was shattered by a single crack as he reached the top of the stairs. He bolted up for fear of it being a gunshot. It was then layered by another, and then several more in rapid succession before the noise's true nature became clear. Within seconds, the light applause became a full-blown standing ovation among the platoon of SeeDs, replete with whistles and gratuitous hollering aplenty.

Squall stood dumbfounded on the stairs, his face uncomfortably flush. He turned back around to those on the platform. His comrades, and even the commandant had joined in, all beaming with pride. Only the mayor and his wife abstained. Both hobbled back to their house with what looked like embarrassment to rival his own. The applause finally died down only once the door had shut behind them.

"Now that's what I call havin' somethin' between yer legs," Irvine piped up as he approached.

With a friendly pat on Squall's shoulder, he descended the steps, and made his way around the bustling crowd without waiting for a proper dismissal. It came moments later as Xu gave the order to begin clearing the area of bodies and wreckage. The crowd dispersed on command, trailing back up the surrounding staircases to undertake their duty.

"That was quite the speech," she told him as she strode over. "Probably the best morale boost anyone could have given the troops right now."

"It was just something I needed to get off my chest," Squall modestly accepted the praise. "Whether or not it made any difference to him."

"I see," the commandant mused as she descended. "Still, don't be surprised if you suddenly find yourself gaining a reputation around the Garden. In fact… well, let's just say I'd bet on it if I were you."

Why don't I like the sound of that?

"Man, it'll be nice to sleep in my own bed again tonight," Zell groaned as he stretched. "Happy birthday to me."

"Wait, really?!" Selphie turned to him in surprise.

"Well, tomorrow. Don't worry, it doesn't need to be anything special."

"I'm sure Squall could always think up something for you," Rinoa commented. She flashed him a cheeky sideways glance.

Is this really what my life is turning to?

"Right now, I just wanna finally get outta this uniform and back into my own clothes," Zell said.

"Tell me about it," Selphie agreed. "Oh, and nice new threads, Rinoa! Looking to join up?"

"Sorta kinda. It's more just because my old clothes got so torn up. It's a real pain having just the one set, though."

"I could give you my old cadet uniform if you want! It's barely been worn."

"I think we ought to start tidying things up around here," Quistis interrupted them. She bent down to hoist up a Galbadian soldier's limp body. "Let's get them piled up over on that side for now."

The others complied, spreading out across the platform. Squall paced several steps to the nearest infantryman, and lifted him up with both hands from beneath his underarms. Rinoa bent down opposite him to elevate the feet.

"You've… really changed," she spoke softly as they carried the soldier across the stage. "I never could've imagined the guy I knew back in Timber making a speech like that."

"It's the truth," he insisted. "I don't take pleasure in any of this. I never have. Anyone who would is a lunatic."

"I love battles. The scent of scorched earth, the roaring gunfire, the sheer visceral energy between you and your enemy as you strike him down… I live for that shit."

That's the dividing line between us. The one I'll never cross…

"Well, it's a day full of surprises, then," Rinoa replied as they tossed the body over the edge of the platform. "You looked really happy to see the others were okay."

"What's surprising about that?" he cocked his eyebrow. "I was the one who grouped them together and sent them off to the base. Their safety was my responsibility."

"But that's not all, is it? They might be your comrades, or your subordinates, or whatever they are to you, officially. But more than that, they're your friends. And it was… refreshing to see you act so honestly."

Squall turned his eyes to Zell and Selphie across the platform, watching them struggle to haul a bulky red Galbadian commander to the drop-off pile. The two had been a constant source of irritation for him over the course of their assignment, to speak nothing of the wisecracking sharpshooter. And yet, there was no denying the sense of melancholy whenever he'd stopped to consider them over the past two weeks.

Friends, huh?

"Hey, Squall. Would you have been that worried about me, too? You know, if you'd sent me along with them instead?"

"It never would have come to that," he explained. "It would have been too dangerous to send you out there. When I was deciding on the teams, your safety was my top priority. And as long as you were with me, I'd be able to see to that myself."

It was only as he swiveled his head back around that the implications of what he'd said hit home. Rinoa's expression was proof enough they hadn't been lost on her, either. His mind went numb. A bottomless pit formed in his stomach.

"You… really care that much?"

"I… well, what I mean is… you were my employer, and I-"

"Oh my gosh, you're turning red!" she chuckled, keeling forward as she clutched her sides in hilarity. Squall stood still, utterly mortified. "You are so cute, taking it so seriously!"

"What's so funny?" Zell asked as he and Selphie finally reached them with their hefty load.

"Nothing," Squall spat. He spun on his heel, and briskly walked away from his snickering student. "Quit messing around! We've got work to do."

Chapter Text

The sun had fallen to just over the outer wall's edge by the time clean-up was finished. Squall and his comrades had toiled for hours on end, gathering every last fallen soldier, civilian, and firearm littered across the solar array. Manually hauling out the casualties had been a grueling task; the staircases were the only way up and out of the massive basin. By the time he and his entourage had cleared the central platform, he'd elected to split off from them. He soon came to regret the decision; with each SeeD he lent his help to came another round of congratulations for his speech. The constant out-pour of praise irritated him to no end, leading him to reflect on Xu's mention of his reputation going forward.

All the while, he struggled to fathom what had come over him. Perhaps spending so much time with Rinoa had begun to foster a similar lack of restraint in him. Whatever the cause, such brashness was inexcusable in the field. He'd let his tongue step out of line with his better judgment, a mistake that could have easily cost them their license to stay. That the mayor and his wife had yet to re-emerge from their house was his only assurance otherwise, and far from a guarantee.

He finally surmounted the solar array's lip, and peered out over the makeshift streets below. The efforts of those assigned to the town proper were clear to see. SeeDs, cadets, and civilians cautiously maneuvered about, neither faction daring to encroach too far on the other. Though the railroad tracks they walked upon were still riddled with structural damage, the casualties had been swept away in the meantime. Squall assumed water burial to be Fisherman's Horizon's standard funerary procedure, though had no idea if there was a designated drop point for the bodies further along the bridge. Surely the townspeople would never stoop to disposing of their dead in the same waters that kept them sustained.

He started down the right hand path, turning his gaze to the Garden docked by the roadside. It cast a massive shadow over the town's eastern perimeter, its blue and silver shell stunning as he'd ever seen it in the coming twilight. A pair of large maintenance crane platforms were set up on either side. The nearest ascended to the port-side emergency exit hatch, carrying a small group of SeeDs up. Squall picked up the pace as he neared the bottom of the slope. Fatigued from the day's work, he longed only to devour his sparse evening ration, followed by an early retreat to his dorm.

"'Bout time one o' you guys showed up!"

He stopped in his tracks, and turned to face the call. A lone man stood in the shadow cast by the Garden, his back propped up against one of the central structure's support beams. The accent had been instantly recognizable. So too were the wavy brown locks. It was the attire which kept Squall from making a positive identification on the spot. He'd shed the Galbadian uniform for an unbuttoned plaid shirt, left hanging open atop his white undershirt. A pair of blue jeans trailed down to his black boots, apparently the only article he'd carried over from his military disguise. If not for the shotgun hanging from his bullet belt, he could have easily fit the bill for a local.

"Where did you get those?" Squall asked.

"Offa the best lookin' stiff I could find," Irvine replied. He removed his back from the beam, and started over to him. "Yer crazy if ya think I'm gonna go walkin' 'round here in that uniform. Sure took yer sweet time gettin' on down here."

"Maybe if someone had stayed to help with the clean-up," Squall shot back. "Is there something you want?"

"Jus' somebody to vouch fer my identity," the sharpshooter answered. He swiveled his eyes to the now descending crane platform. "I'm no student, and I'm sure as hell not passin' fer a civie with this hangin' offa me. So, what'dya say? Any chance ya can help me get a room?"

Squall sighed, but motioned for him to follow after. He'd been heading for the Garden, anyway. A brief detour up to the headmaster's office to get Irvine settled would be simple enough. The two silently traversed the oncoming pedestrian traffic; Squall's gunblade openly worn at his side was enough to prompt most to clear the way for them. They reached the crane just as the railed platform touched down, and stepped aboard after the three operatives who'd been in waiting.

"What happened out there?" Squall finally broke the silence. "I was sure you three had been caught."

"Well, the short version is we were," Irvine explained. He paid little heed to the stares from the other SeeDs. "An' we jus' barely got outta it by the skin o' our teeth."

"And the long version?" Squall egged him on as the crane's hydraulics kicked in.

"We showed up jus' after they fired on Trabia, an' you'd better believe that set Selphie off. We infiltrated the base, cut the power, an' then kinda split up to see what else we could do to slow 'em down."

"What do you mean, you split up?"

"I mean we went our separate ways. Selphie figured we'd catch a lot more attention if we'd kept walkin' 'round joined at the hip. I wasn't too keen on it myself, but… well, with how fired up she was, I wasn't gonna waste my time arguin'."

Squall's heart sunk. He'd explicitly told Zell to keep an eye on her at all times. To now learn that his wishes had gone ignored did nothing to ease his suspicion of her being a Galbadian agent. He sincerely hoped his fears were unfounded. That Irvine and Zell were still alive seemed to suggest as much. And yet, the existence of the counterfeit GF was something he couldn't hand-wave away.

"It was Zell who got our cover blown," Irvine went on. "We sprung him free, but they fired the missiles. Selphie went berserk, an' brought the whole place crumbling down on us. We made it up topside, an' that's 'bout where she went catatonic…"

"I can't," she sobbed in a broken voice. "I just… I don't know what to do anymore! It's over… everything's over. Dad… I really… really wanted to see you again… but it was all for nothing… I'm-"

Irvine held fast to Selphie's shoulder, as did Zell to her wrist. Both their hands were shaken free by the monstrous blast that followed. The ground beneath his feet shook, forcing him to redirect his hand to the ground to keep himself standing. He raised his head up, and craned his neck back. Flames billowed from an ignited fuel tank across the compound; even his visor's infrared shielding could barely stand up to their intensity. The blaze quickly spread, consuming all in its vicinity. Time slowed to a crawl. The adrenaline fired through his veins. Any possibility of escape slipped further out of reach with each passing second.

His eyes darted every which way in the span of two seconds. The transport they'd taken in was utterly demolished; its smoldering remains lay by the obliterated chain-link fence where they'd parked. The burnt out husks of a dozen or so iron-clad tank mechs sat all around it. As he scanned further along, he noticed a pair parked just inside the compound entryway which appeared still functional. Tunnel vision instantly set in. The next earth-shattering tremor from behind was as a starting gun to his ears.

He swept the distraught Selphie up into his arms without a second thought, and blazed a trail across the divide. The severed halves of her nunchaku fell from her hands as he did so. The ensuing racket of explosions and crumbling architecture continued unabated as he ran. He dared not look back even to see if Zell were following; only as he circled the rear of the tank to the entry hatch did he notice the blonde head of hair just behind. He threw open the latch with one hand, ducked inside, and set Selphie down in the nearest seat.

"Get 'er buckled up!" he shouted to Zell as he raced forward into the cockpit.

Though Irvine had never operated anything of the sort, his lectures at Galbadia Garden had included a seminar on virtually every military vehicle in the army's reserve. He plopped himself into the driver's seat, buckled his own belt, and engaged the ignition with a button press. The tank's six turbine engines roared to life, barely discernible against the destruction outside.

"Hold on to somethin'!" he hollered back. He floored the accelerator.

The iron-clad lurched forward on command. He veered left towards the open gateway, the treads easily surmounting debris and corpses alike. Bulky as it was, he couldn't reasonably expect it to move any faster. The ongoing explosions intensified. Flames billowed from all sides through the narrow front view-port. The entrance drew closer, cleared for them courtesy of Zell's Guardian Force. All that mattered now was their ever shrinking window of opportunity to reach it.

C'mon, move!

The tank's nose had barely cleared the archway when the largest eruption of all sounded. Instantly, Irvine's demand for speed was rewarded tenfold. He recalled their daring escape from the D-District Prison earlier that morning, when they'd shot forth from the hangar bay with the explosions of two RPGs licking at their rear tires. This was of another magnitude entirely.

His hands were ripped from the steering controls as the iron-clad was thrust forward onto the desert plains, and began to tumble. Only his seat belt kept him in place as he gripped tightly to the armrests. Extreme disorientation and nausea overtook him. Heaven and earth switched positions roughly a dozen times. Steel sickeningly screeched and crunched all the while, rendering the cries of panic behind him unintelligible.

After a long and torturous eternity, the ruined tank wobbled to a rest upside down. His head dazed and spinning, Irvine fumbled all about for the button to release his belt. He found it, only to be dropped headfirst onto the transport's roof as it came free; the brunt of the impact was taken by his helmet. He quickly righted himself, scanned his eyes over the cockpit, and found his shotgun resting several feet away from him. After re-holstering it, he turned his attention to his comrades.

Both hung upside down from their seats at the rear. He reached up to assist Zell first; with no helmet, there would be nothing to spare him from a serious head injury should he fall. A torrent of vomit suddenly came spewing out of his gullet, splattering all over Irvine's boots before he could step back.

"S-sorry," he groaned as the last of the bile trickled from his lips.

Irvine said nothing; that they'd survived at all was too miraculous for him to be hung up on such a thing. Once Zell was safely on the ground, taking great pains to keep from touching down on the puddle, they proceeded over to Selphie. She spoke not a word as they helped her down. She appeared neither on the verge of throwing up, nor any more responsive than before. She absentmindedly swiveled her visor back and forth between them, and then to her own feet below. Irvine opened his mouth to console her, but stopped. There were no words.

She'd been helpless to avert the destruction of both her former and current homes, and likely the deaths of many she held dear. Where Balamb Garden was concerned, their only hope was that they'd managed to buy Squall's team enough time. The situation was now completely out of their hands. All they could do now was find some manner of passage back to civilization. With aching body and heavy heart, Irvine maneuvered himself to the rear hatch, threw it open, and stepped out onto the wreckage-strewn, smog-covered sands.

"After that, we jus' started walkin'," Irvine continued as they boarded. "Didn't have a clue where we were headin', though. The smog was so dense, ya couldn't see the stars to figure out where north was. We got picked up the next day by the platoon headin' fer this place. I gave my old helmet to Zell – figured no one'd be lookin' fer my face – an' we passed ourselves off as a few survivors. An' here I thought they'd have the decency to ship us back to Deling City after what we'd jus' been through."

"No such luck, huh?" Squall presumed.

"Nope. They had their orders, an' it wasn't like we were missin' limbs or anythin'. So, we made our way down an' 'round the coast to Timber, dropped off a buncha troops there, an' started over the bridge. Us three stuck together through it all. Me an' Zell started tryin' to come up with some ideas of how to give 'em the slip. An' Selphie… well, she jus' kept to herself the whole time. Wouldn't say a word to anyone. Before, back in front o' the mayor's house… that was the first time I've seen her actin' like her usual self in the last two weeks."

Squall pondered over his account as they crossed the walkway to the central pillar, and stepped aboard the elevator. For Selphie to have shown genuine remorse was an encouraging sign. Indeed, there could have been a multitude of explanations for how she'd gotten her GF sphere. That it bore the Galbadian insignia as opposed to SeeD's was his only lead. There was no way to know for sure other than confronting her directly. More than anything else however, it was the sphere's existence itself which truly perturbed him. Assuming it had come from the army, the question was then raised as to why there had never been reports of Galbadia supplying its own soldiers with the technology.

He brushed the matter aside as they reached the 20th floor. They stepped out into the central antechamber, and proceeded ahead into the main hall. A congregation of technicians stood atop the control center with a pair of SeeDs, toiling over the machinery. Squall paid them no mind as he cut across the red carpet to the headmaster's office. He rapped on the door twice. It swung open moments later. To his surprise, it was not Cid standing on the other side.

"Excellent timing as usual," Xu muttered. "We were just about to make a call over the intercom for you."

Perfect… what did I do, now?

"I'm only here to help get him settled," Squall gestured to Irvine. "He's going to need a room. Is the headmaster in?"

On cue, Cid rounded the corner to peer over the commandant's shoulder.

"Irvine!"

The headmaster immediately motioned with one hand for Xu to clear the doorframe. She obliged, allowing him to pass on by and take the sharpshooter's hand in his own.

"It's good to see you well after so long, sir," Irvine greeted him as they shook. "And… well, my condolences about everything. I know the situation must be harder on you than anyone else."

His enunciation had abruptly become tighter, and more formal again. His implied familiarity with Cid was what truly caught Squall off guard, however. It occurred to him once again that Selphie was not the only enigma within his circle.

"Thank you," Cid graciously accepted. "But I'm fine, really. More importantly, how did you make your way out here?"

"It's a long story. For the moment, I'd be very appreciative if you could arrange a place for me in the dorms."

"Of course. But before that… could you please wait out here for just a few moments? There's something Xu and I would like to discuss with Squall in private."

A lump caught in Squall's throat; a private meeting with the headmaster and commandant alone could only mean trouble. Was it in some way related to his stand-off with the mayor? Surely it had to be to have come so quickly afterward. He obligingly stepped into the office, restlessly speculating as to what kind of punishment he was due for. Xu closed the door behind him as Cid returned to his mahogany desk by the window.

"Please, have a seat," the headmaster gestured to the chair in front.

Squall obeyed the formality as though it were a direct order. He sunk into the plush cushioning, just as his heart into his stomach.

"There's no need to be anxious," Cid assured him as Xu circled around to stand by the desk. "You haven't done anything wrong. Quite the contrary, in fact. I dare say yours is a case without precedent."

"I don't understand, sir," Squall eked out. The heavy weight refused to lift from his shoulders.

"Of course not. Xu, perhaps you'd like to be the one to explain for him?"

Squall turned his eyes to the commandant. Her face briefly showed a look of surprise at having been placed on the spot. Like a mirage, it vanished a split second later.

"As you might be aware, this is my third and final year acting as commandant," she began. "And that it's customary for each outgoing recipient of the title to name a successor in advance, to offer them training and guidance for when it comes time to pass the torch."

"You can't be serious."

Squall's eyes bulged, his mind utterly dumbfounded. He was so beside himself at the notion, that it took him a moment to realize he'd unwittingly spoken his thoughts aloud. Surely this had to be an elaborate joke.

"Indeed, it would make you the youngest of the five operatives to ever hold the title by two years," Headmaster Cid interjected. "But as I said, yours is a very unique case, Squall. You have accomplished more in a single month than many operatives could expect to across their entire careers."

He remained completely mute. He was too baffled to even attempt an argument.

"Traditionally, the three key components to look for in a successor are bravery, wit, and the ability to inspire confidence in one's subordinates," Xu continued. "You proved your bravery the day you returned to save us from the missiles. From what Quistis told me about your confrontation with Norg, it seems you've got plenty of wit. And now today, after that speech… well, I already told you what I thought, and I stand by it. Despite your relative inexperience, you've shown yourself to be the most promising candidate I could hope for."

"T-there has to be someone else," he finally spoke up. He rose up out of his chair on pure instinct. "Someone with that experience under their belt already. What about Quistis? She'd be a perfect fit for the position."

"I thought so, too," Xu conceded. "That's why I signed on to oversee the squad accompanying yours for the Dollet field exam. That was her chance to prove she had the leadership qualities I was looking for, but… well, you know what happened there. Even with Norg and his administration gone, there's no way I can offer this position to her when she's just coming off a demotion. It could be too easily construed as playing favorites."

Squall was gobsmacked. He'd assumed Xu had been there that morning to evaluate his instructor, but never could have imagined just how important it might have been for her advancement. A pang of guilt shot through him; only now did he truly understand what he'd been complicit with in following Seifer's desertion.

"I wasn't keen on you after what happened that day. But you've proven your mettle, and shown yourself to be capable of commanding this army's respect. And so, after discussing it with the headmaster, I've decided to officially name you my successor."

"With all due respect… I can't," Squall stammered. His head was on the verge of rupturing. "I'm not ready for this level of responsibility."

"Of course, you aren't," Cid inserted himself into the conversation again. "Not yet, anyway. No one's expecting you to be an experienced leader right out of the gate. That's why it's customary for each commandant to choose their successor a year in advance, to allow for sufficient training. It was no different for Xu, when she was named by her predecessor. Regardless, it will have to wait until we've tied up our current business with Fisherman's Horizon. Take your time to think it over. I'm expecting great things from you, Squall. You're dismissed."

I can't believe this…

Squall stood in place for several moments, stunned beyond all measure. It was all too much to process in his already exhausted state of mind. He performed the SeeD salute to them both, and spun on his heel. He swung open the door to find Irvine standing just on the other side. The sharpshooter's initial surprise melted away into a slick grin as their eyes met. He brought his hand around to give him a hearty slap on the shoulder.

"Congrats, chief!"

Squall kept to himself for the next several days. What little time not spent in his room consisted solely of eating in the cafeteria, and practicing his form in the training center. His instruction of Rinoa had drawn to an abrupt halt. Neither had she come to him at any point to insist he continue. He could safely assume Irvine had passed along the news of his promotion to her and the rest of his comrades, and that she'd figured he was too busy. The misunderstanding suited him just fine; he was in no mood to associate with anyone.

Whenever he would leave his dorm to make his way about the Garden, his eyes remained perpetually locked to the floor. In the cafeteria, he took great pains to find the table furthest removed from other students. Should another group happen upon him while training, he was quick to vacate the immediate area. Above all else, he dared not venture back ashore. By the 4th day, he'd ceased his daily round of the academy altogether, and resigned himself to his room for a full 24 hours. No matter his stomach's incessant hunger pangs, the will to raise himself from his bed remained out of reach.

All the while, he reflected on the events that had brought him to this turning point. He felt no satisfaction in having achieved such a massive milestone, just as on the night of the graduation ball. It was unquestionably the single greatest accomplishment of his life. He ought to have been elated. Instead, it filled him with dread akin to a prison sentence. He'd only passed the field exam just over a month prior, inadvertently sullying his own instructor's chance for the position he now held. The guilt was unbearable. It should have been obvious to everyone that he was unqualified, no matter what the headmaster and commandant had said to contrary.

Resigning from SeeD altogether crossed his mind several times. It seemed the only way to rid himself of the burden of command, regardless of the cowardly light it would paint him in. He didn't care; his life spent in seclusion had left him with no image to maintain, nor expectations to live up to. What truly frightened him, just as it had when Seifer had first prodded him regarding his dream for the future, was where he would go next. His life at Balamb Garden was all he knew. There was no possibility he could leave it all behind for a normal life, least of all with the world on the verge of Edea's total conquest. He would eventually find himself pressed into battle with her forces again, whether or not he still bore the title of SeeD. His dilemma hung over him like a heavy pall, day and night.

On the evening of the 5th day, the second in which he'd not left his room, a knock on the door came. Deep in the throes of depression, and deprived of sustenance, he made no effort to reply. Several more knocks followed, before the door finally creaked open. Squall could scarcely recall if he'd remembered to lock it. He groggily turned over in bed to see who it was.

"Hey," Rinoa greeted him. The concern in her voice was evident. "You okay? Me and the rest of the gang haven't seen you around in days."

"What do you want?" he weakly groaned.

"You look so down," she said, taking a seat at the foot of his bed. "Squall, what's wrong? Tell me."

"It's…"

"Yeah, yeah, 'none of your business', right? Quistis was right on. You are an easy read. Come on, let's get you up and at it. We're going out for a night on the town."

"I'm not in the mood," he dismissed her.

"Let me guess," she sighed. "You're still hung up over the new promotion, right? Look, I understand, Squall. You've had a lot put on your shoulders all of a sudden. But just lying around in bed doing nothing isn't going to make you feel any better. You need to get out and unwind a little. Plus… there's something important I want to talk to you about. So, what do you say? I mean, come on, Squall, how old are you? You're still a teenager, right? Why don't you let yourself act like one for a change?"

Squall breathed a deep sigh. He realized she would never stop pestering him until he finally gave in. His stomach likewise begged him to accept.

"Fine," he surrendered. He achingly sat up, and swung his legs over the bedside. "I'll give it a shot."

"Yay!" Rinoa excitedly jumped up. "Then, let's get going."

He quickly laced his shoes, threw on his casual black jacket, and followed her out the door. They made their way through the dormitory halls at a leisurely pace; it was as fast as Squall could move in his current condition. Upon reaching the atrium, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. The massive nexus was completely empty, without a single cadet or SeeD across its entire expanse. Not believing his eyes, he quickly brought up his wristwatch. It read 20:14, just after curfew for the junior classmen, but nearly 3 hours ahead of the academy-wide lights-out.

"Where is everybody?" he pondered aloud.

"Probably out on the town," Rinoa answered obliviously. "Come on, let's move it."

Squall apprehensively followed her lead to the elevators and stepped aboard. A new queasiness unrelated to hunger formed in his stomach. Something was amiss. It was ludicrous to believe the entire student body had taken to the town all at once, especially when considering the tenuous relationship they held with Fisherman's Horizon. As they stepped off onto the second level and circled around to the front of the Garden, he realized the hall was likewise vacant. Only one familiar face casually leaned beside the emergency exit further along.

"So, she finally talked ya into it, huh?" Irvine chuckled as they approached.

"Into what?" Squall impatiently asked. "Where is everyone?"

"All in good time, buddy."

He relieved himself from the wall, and strode forward to meet them. He abruptly slid his arm around Squall's neck, and began walking him towards the door, away from Rinoa.

"Lookin' good together," he slyly whispered into his ear. "So like, I found this spot fer you two. Right near the stage. Check fer a ladder under the solar panels. I left a nudie mag there fer ya. Figured it might be good fer some… inspiration."

What the fuck?!

"Jus' take it easy tonight, an' enjoy the show," he finished with a pat on the back.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Squall reeled away. "What do you mean, 'show'?"

Irvine wordlessly directed his finger out the hatch. A pair of arcing spotlights shooting out across the night sky caught Squall's attention. The twin beacons both appeared to be coming from the center of the solar array; they swiveled and danced across the sea of stars above. It was then that his ears picked up on the sound of a merry symphony carried on the wind.

"You're coming too, aren't you, Irvine?" Rinoa asked.

"Yeah, I'll be right behind. Jus' gotta work out my… 'battle plan', I guess ya could call it."

"Will one of you please tell me what's going on?!" Squall fumed.

"I'll fill you in on the way," Rinoa assured him. She stepped forward through the hatch and onto the raised crane platform. "Come on, let's go."

He momentarily considered turning around on the spot, and heading straight back to his dorm. Rinoa was obviously not being entirely forthcoming with him. And yet, the notion that the entire Garden populace had gathered together in the center of town was too maddening for him to ignore. He begrudgingly stepped aboard the lift after her. Satisfied, she waved to the technician manning the crane below. They began to descend the next moment.

"Rinoa," he firmly addressed her. "What's going on? Why is everyone up there?"

"Well, after Irvine told us about your promotion, Selphie got really fired up about it. She wanted to put together something special for you. That, and your Garden's annual festival was supposed to be coming up, anyway, and she didn't want all their work from before going to waste. So, she and Irvine brought it up to Cid and the town's technicians, and asked if they'd be willing to help fix up the stage in the quad. They went along with it, and even suggested holding it here in town instead. That way it could double as a celebration of forcing Galbadia out, and maybe give the people something to take their minds off all that's happened."

"And they're holding it next to the mayor's house?! The mayor who can't stand having us in his town?!"

"Oh, you might be surprised about that," she smiled as the platform touched down. "Why don't we head on up and have a look?"

Squall's legs broke into a brisk power-walk along the tracks. He paid no heed to whether Rinoa could comfortably match his pace. Any trace of hunger pangs had disappeared from his gut; his weary mental faculties were too flabbergasted to process any other bodily response. He couldn't believe things had progressed so quickly in the time he'd kept himself sequestered. The music continued to swell in volume as he drew closer to the height of the central structure. It was then that he noticed the ring of townspeople and students alike gathered around the solar array's upper rim. He at last broke into a full-on sprint, dashing up the remainder of the incline, and turned to look down on the ensuing festivities.

Hundreds of people bustled about the intertwining stairways, and in the area directly around the central platform. Untold numbers more were seated or standing all around the great basin's lip. A girded, reinforced metal stage with a PA and full-scale lighting system had been erected in front of the mayor's residence, upon which the Garden orchestra was performing. Many white tents stood within the circular expanse near the bottom; they were offering fresh concessions, if the sizzling steam and savory aromas wafting up were any indication. All around, people danced, drank, and laughed merrily, without even a hint of animosity between the two parties. It was a festival that embodied the very image of fellowship.

"What do you think?" Rinoa asked from his side. "Not too shabby for a few days' work, huh?"

Squall was awestruck, speechless even. How the mayor could have given the go-ahead for such a thing was beyond him. The orchestra quickly brought its current piece to a close, prompting a light round of applause. The conductor graciously took his bow. A single outfitted SeeD then strode across the stage to the microphone at its fore. The unmistakable spring in her step was all it took for Squall to recognize her, even from afar.

"Let's hear it again for the Balamb Garden chamber orchestra!" Selphie's voice blared over the PA. "Are we all having a good time so far, people?"

A healthy chorus of cheers erupted in response. The amount in Squall's vicinity startled him.

"That's what I like to hear! And now, if I could have your attention please, there are just a couple of things to cover before we get on with the rest of the festivities. Firstly, on behalf of the Garden student body, I'd like to take a moment to personally congratulate our new commandant-to-be, Squall Leonhart, on his big promotion. Squall, if you're out there, this is all for you, ya big stud! Let's hear it for him, come on, everyone!"

Squall's face flared hot as an iron as the cheering kicked up again. Now, more than ever, he desperately wished he could shrivel up into nothingness. It was then that Rinoa affectionately pulled herself close to him; she wrapped both her arms around his right, and gently rested her head on his shoulder. His sense of mortification shot though the stratosphere. It didn't recede even as she stepped away a moment later.

"Don't let him get away, Rinoa!" Selphie joked. "And now, I'd like to hand the stage over to Mayor Dobe for a brief word. Take it away, sir!"

The bubbly girl quickly vacated her spot at the microphone, as a far slower gentleman shuffled his way across the stage to take her place. The streaks of grey running through his hair practically leapt out from under the spotlights. They were a stark contrast to his dark attire. Although Squall couldn't pick out the details from a distance, the baggy pants implied it was no manner of formal wear.

"My friends," he wearily began. "I'm so happy to see you all enjoying yourselves this evening. And, of course, none of it would have been possible without the Balamb Garden festival committee. Let's have another round of applause for the hardworking men and women who've spent these last few days toiling non-stop."

Dobe's request was promptly gratified. Squall looked on in confusion; this did not sound at all like the same man who'd shown such flippant disregard for SeeD.

"It has been a trying and turbulent week for us all. And one filled with much soul-searching for both me and my wife. Fisherman's Horizon was founded in pursuit of a better way of life. One whereby man and nature could peacefully coexist together, without need for senseless violence. It has been my mission to uphold that ethos for all these years, that any conflict can be solved with civil discussion and discourse. And while I still believe that in my heart to be true, I have come to realize no good will come from demonizing others merely for having a different view of the world, or ascribing to a different set of values. And that to dismiss those views and values outright, without showing the goodwill to listen to the arguments behind them, is the deepest hypocrisy and ignorance."

He paused, allowing a hushed muttering to envelop the solar array. Squall couldn't believe his ears.

"I owe this revelation to one young man, who so passionately showed me that while our beliefs may be opposed to one another, they both share the same end-goal. And to that end, I thank you. To Fisherman's Horizon and SeeD! May we all strive for a better future together! Huzzah!"

The audience burst into their loudest cheer yet. Squall was tempted to cover his ears at the abrupt swell in volume. Instead, he stood motionless. His words, however clumsily he might have grasped for them on the spot five days earlier, had gotten through to him. That he'd given the festival his blessing said more than any carefully crafted speech could.

"Now, let's get on with the show, everyone!" Dobe cheerfully boasted. He signaled for the newly arrived Garden jazz ensemble at his rear to kick into their first number.

"What did I tell you?" Rinoa beamed at him as the brass horns blared. "You're already shaping up to be a highly respected leader. What more could you ask for?"

The last of the jitters finally left Squall's nervous system. The sudden return of his rumbling stomach gave him his answer.

"Food."

He immediately started down the stairs. Rinoa trailed him all the way, seemingly taking Selphie's jest to heart. Many students he passed along the way took notice; they shot him congratulatory smiles, thumbs-ups, and winks aplenty. Upon reaching the base of the solar array, he practically bolted for the nearest concession stand. The line was mercifully short. He purchased three skewers of grilled fish from the vendor, handing one to Rinoa before quickly scarfing down the other two. He then promptly sought to fight his way back out of the throngs of people. Realizing he'd have better luck navigating the crowds by avoiding them altogether, he maneuvered his legs over the nearby guardrails to touch down beneath the solar panels to the right of the stage.

He squinted as he peered across the panels' shadowy undersides. The darkness was broken every so often by the stage lighting shining through the evenly-spaced gaps. He fumbled his way forward, paying no mind to Rinoa's insistence they turn back. He then noticed a ladder's silhouette, propped up between two sets of panels. His tongue caught in his throat; he remembered Irvine's suggestive aside, and yet a strange curiosity beckoned him forward all the same. As he reached the base of the rungs, his eyes bulged as he noticed the discarded magazine lying next to it. 'Girl Next Door,' read its title. A nude model knelt below with her arm held up before her voluptuous chest.

Holy shit, he was serious…

"Wonder who put this here?" Rinoa muttered.

Squall flipped back around. His mind scrambled to think of any explanation he could for the magazine. He then realized she was referring to the ladder.

"Wanna head on up?" she suggested, taking hold of the rungs. "I bet we could get an awesome view from up there."

She carefully pulled herself up. Despite how sturdy the steel frame looked, Squall's close call with the ladder in the Garden's maintenance levels came rushing back to him. He willed himself to be calm as he took the first rung; a drop here would be mere feet as opposed to yards. Assuring himself they'd be fine, he followed her up.

"Wow," Rinoa exhaled as she climbed up top. "It's like having our own private suite!"

He cleared the top of the ladder, and glanced out across the two rows of solar panels ahead to the stage. The jazz ensemble was still performing, now with the addition of a female vocal soloist. It was indeed a picturesque view of the festival's proceedings. Despite his questionable outlook on romance, Irvine's choice had been right on the money.

"I guess so," he muttered. He took a seat squarely in the middle of the panel.

"Geez, don't get too excited about it," Rinoa sarcastically quipped.

She plopped herself down next to him. His heart began to pound just as when she'd snuggled in close to him before.

"So, listen," she started in a gentle tone. "There's something I wanted to say. It's about your promotion. I know it's not like you're suddenly the big man on campus just yet, but… I think I've got a pretty good idea how you're feeling about all this. It's a lot of responsibility to live up to. I'm sure there'll be a lot of new and difficult challenges you'll have to deal with from now on. Me and the others were talking about that, and saying how you'll probably just try to handle everything on your own, like you always do."

No argument there…

"And now that I've said that, you're probably thinking something like, 'No argument there'."

Squall flinched. She burst into a chuckle just as quickly.

"I haven't been around you that long, but I think I know how you tick better than most. You know, when you start thinking really hard about this sort of stuff, you always make this frown."

"I'm out of here," Squall firmly announced; his patience with her had run out for the evening.

He maneuvered himself to stand up. Her arms once again wrapped around his right, keeping him anchored in place.

"Oh, come on!" she pouted, moving dangerously further into his personal space. "I'm just teasing you a little. You need to stop taking everything so seriously all the time."

She leaned her head in closer, placed her lips directly beside his ear, and whispered seductively to him.

"Unless… maybe you want to get serious."

Squall instantly shot to his feet, forcefully breaking from her grasp. He instinctively backed away in terror and alarm, as though she were the very visage of Sorceress Edea herself.

"What the hell do you want from me?!" he finally snapped. "I didn't sign up for any of this!"

"That's it!" she exclaimed, rising to her own feet. "Just let it all out! Anything you need to! That's all we really want from you, Squall. We just want you to talk to us a little more. Like, if there's anything you want to tell us, or anything we can do to help, please don't keep it to yourself. I know it's not easy for you, but I really wish you would just trust us, and not be so scared to rely on other people."

Squall's labored breathing slowly returned to normal. The adrenaline surge dissipated. He stood still as a statue, his mind drawing a blank as to what he could possibly say in response.

Scared? Me?

In the previous month alone, he'd faced dangers that would have reduced lesser men to a sniveling wreck. He'd fought on the shores of Dollet, rescued a mysterious girl he still knew nothing about from a fearsome plant creature, hijacked a train and fended off a disfigured undead thrall aboard, led an assassination attempt, escaped from prison, saved the Garden and disposed of its wicked usurper, among other death-defying feats. That he could be frightened by something so trivial was laughable. Or at least, it ought to have been. And yet, as he wrestled with the tightly-wound knot within his gut, stubbornly refusing to come undone, he realized she was right. He was scared.

Of course, I'm scared. Why shouldn't I be? Nothing lasts in this world, least of all the people around you. Sure, it might feel great to have all these friends who believe in you. And that's exactly what makes it so dangerous, especially if you become too used to it. Someday you're bound to lose everything. Everyone around you will be gone. And then what are you left with? Nothing. Nobody. It's the most miserable feeling in the world, and it's inevitable. How do you possibly recover from that? I never want to have to live through that experience again. I can't. Even if it means being alone… for the rest of my life.

"What a night," Rinoa finally sighed. She sat back down in place. "Great music, nice view, good-looking guy…"

She trailed off before redirecting her focus to him. A content smile came over her face.

"And not only is he good-looking, but sweet too, even if he doesn't like to show it. And a great listener. Right now, he's seriously thinking over what I just said. He's shy, and doesn't say much, but I know. So, come on, what do you think? Is there room enough in that little world of yours for us to squeeze in?"

"I… I appreciate your concern," he stumbled over himself. "But-"

"No 'buts'!" she cut him off with a raised index finger. "Just think about it: the way things are shaping up with this whole war, there might not be another time when we can all be together like this. There's no guarantee for the future. That's why today, the time we have right now, is important. Squall, we really do want to help you as much as we can, for as long as we can. We all love you… there, I said it. So, please, don't freak out on me. We just want to live through this time we have with you, together."

"Together?" he repeated, completely overwhelmed by all she'd laid out. "That's exactly the problem, though. There are no guarantees. Everyone I've ever known goes away in the end. I don't…"

He trailed off as he began choking up. He knew if he let a single tear loose from his eyes, he would be finished. He fought as hard as he could to hold in the sadness, to not allow her to see him in such a vulnerable, pitiful state. A gentle touch on his shoulder roused him. He turned his weary eyes up to Rinoa's in front of him.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," she reassured him. "Not tonight, anyway. Come on, sit here with me. I won't bite. And I won't leave. I promise."

Those last two words struck him hardest. What's more, he knew she meant it. Unable to come up with any reason to distrust her, he allowed himself to be pulled back down by his arm to sit with her. There they lingered together in silence, side by side, eyes and ears trained to the stage as the jazz band wrapped up another number. All the while, in the midst of what should have been a decidedly awkward scenario, Squall felt relief wash over him.

He recognized the strange contentment; it was very same he'd felt when he'd first danced with Rinoa at the ball. It was serene, peaceful, and reflective of an unspoken understanding between them. She'd gone so far to offer him a reprieve from his troubles, just like that night. And in much the same way, he'd stubbornly refused her at every turn. He remembered his disappointment after she'd abruptly fled the dance floor, and left him standing by his lonesome in the middle of the ballroom. Only now, with her by his side, aware of his loneliness and prepared to stay with him through it all, did he finally understand how the need for companionship could be so intrinsic to the human experience.

The jazz ensemble started up again, this time backed by a selection of players from the orchestra for accompaniment. Mere moments after the slow dance kicked in, Rinoa let out a heavy sigh.

"They would start playing this song right now, wouldn't they?" she softly muttered.

"You don't like it?" Squall asked.

"No, it's not that," she insisted. She hunched up her knees in front of herself, and wrapped her arms around them. "It's just… my mom's the one who wrote it."

"Your mom?"

The unlikely explanation caught him off guard. His mind flashed back to the portrait in General Caraway's study, and the tragic tale of her sudden passing.

"Yeah, she had a little bit of a singing career before I was born. Didn't last long though, once the radio interference started. This was her big hit, 'Eyes on Me'."

As the intro wound down, the female vocal soloist stepped up to the microphone, and began singing.

"Whenever I played my songs

On the stage, on my own

Whenever I spoke my words

Wishing they would be heard

I saw you smiling at me

Was it real, or just my fantasy?

You'd always be there in the corner

Of that tiny little bar

My last night here for you

Same old songs, just once more

My last night here with you?

Maybe yes, maybe no

I kind of liked it that way

How you shyly placed your eyes on me

Did you ever know that I had mine on you?

Darling, so there you are

With that look on your face

As if you're never hurt

As if you're never down

Shall I be the one for you

Who pinches you softly but sure?

And if your smile should fade

Then I will know that you are no dream"

The young lady's stunning voice reverberated all across the solar array. Her delivery was powerful, yet tinged with a fitting sweetness. Squall's eyebrows furrowed further as each successive lyric met his ears; he was positive he'd never heard the song before, and yet somehow, the vocal melody itself was strangely familiar.

"She died when I was really young," Rinoa abruptly started up again. "I remember one time… gosh, I must have been like 4… I asked her if she wrote this song for my dad. She told me to keep it a secret from him, but… apparently she wrote it for another guy she was in love with before. A soldier, who would come to see her perform all the time back when she was still just playing little clubs. He got sent off to fight in the war, and never came back."

A lightbulb suddenly went off in Squall's head. His eyes bulged. His mouth fell open. This was the very same piece Julia had written for Laguna, and played for him in instrumental form on that fateful night. Past and present once again collided, leaving him dumbfounded. Beyond the fact that Rinoa's mother was indeed the woman Laguna had been smitten with, that he'd actually borne witness to the love affair she spoke of was positively world-rending. Before he knew it, she'd sprung to her feet, and turned to face him.

"Come on," she smiled, extending her hand to him. "How about one more, for old time's sake? Or, do you still only dance with girls you like?"

Squall scoffed at the jest. And in that moment, he made a conscious decision to put aside all he couldn't hope to understand, past and future alike.

"Got a problem with that?"

He took her hand.

Chapter Text

"Sis," the boy mewled with his head hung, eyes downcast to the woolen blanket over his legs. "Come back… please, come back… please… I miss you."

A rattling at the door broke him from his self-pity. His head shot up just in time to see it swing open.

"Hello…?" he nervously squeaked.

His anxiety receded as a familiar head of dark, flowing hair passed through the door frame. It was a stark contrast to her gentle, pale features, as was her plain, drab attire. Her green eyes settled on him. They looked worried, though seemed to light up as she made her way over.

"Rise and shine, sleepy-head," she beamed. "Come on, let's get you up. Everyone else has been awake for hours."

"Matron," the boy muttered with unease. "Is… is he gone?"

"Is who gone?" his caretaker asked as she knelt down by the bedside.

"Th-that man," he stammered. The terror crept back into his mind as he pictured him again. "The one with the swords. The one who… he took Sis away, didn't he?!"

He jolted upright in bed. Matron reflexively seized hold of him, wrapping her arms around his tiny figure.

"Squall, calm down," she cooed to him. "It's okay. It sounds like you were just having a nightmare. Everything's alright."

She softly stroked his hair. Slowly but surely, he began to relax; he knew Matron had no reason to lie to him. Something so horrifying had to have been a figment of his imagination. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself however, the terror had been too real.

"Matron," he whimpered. "I… I'm scared. Where's Sis? Where'd she go? I… I don't wanna be all alone."

"You're not alone," she told him, and finally released her tight embrace. "You have me, and the others."

"But someday they'll all have to go away too, right? And what about when I have to go? I'll never get to see any of them again… or you…"

He started to cry. Matron raised herself from her knees, and seated herself on the edge of the bed. Feeling a hand lightly clasp his shoulder, the boy raised his teary eyes up to hers.

"You're right," she said. "Someday you and the others will all have new families, and you might not get to see each other again for a long time. But the bonds you share, the memories you've made… those are forever. It's the same for you and your 'Sis'. I know how badly you want to see her, and how lonely you must be without her, but you have to believe me. She's doing fine. She's going to be alright, and so are you. But you need to learn how to be okay with that loneliness, and fight through it. You need to be brave, to have a strong heart, like a lion. Promise me. If you can do that, you'll find her again."

The boy kept his eyes locked to hers. He knew she meant what she'd said.

"Really?" he sniffled, bringing his arm up to wipe away the tears.

"Really," she swore. She raised her own arm up with her pinky outstretched to him. "Promise."

With his hope restored, and his sadness momentarily overcome by Matron's comfort, he locked his own pinky with hers.

"I'll try," he murmured.

"I know you will," she said, pulling him into another loving embrace. "I believe in you, Squall, and I can't tell you how proud I am of you. You're special. You were born to do great things. I know it."

SeeD's departure from Fisherman's Horizon came two days following the Garden Festival. With repairs complete, the concert stage had been disassembled, and moved back aboard. The newfound camaraderie between both parties continued to surprise Squall; their eventual parting was even bittersweet for many students and townspeople who'd become fast friends. Xu had attempted to negotiate with Mayor Dobe to leave a small detachment of troops behind, in the event Galbadia were to send in another battalion. He'd respectfully declined. And so, after a week spent moored at the quaint waterside settlement, the Garden cast off back across the sea.

A return to Balamb was deemed the best course of action. Besides their still dwindling food supplies, there were still the students who'd evacuated ahead of the missile strike to attend to; they'd been left stranded in town for more than 3 weeks already. Irvine had informed the headmaster of a planned invasion he'd picked up on. Accordingly, they'd adjusted their course to steer as far east as possible, allowing the Garden to come ashore on the far side of the island, well out of visibility from the town. From there, a scouting party would be dispatched, supplied with uniforms procured from the troopers at Fisherman's Horizon.

All of this had been made known to Squall on the first night of their expected 4 day voyage, in the midst of his first instructional session with Xu. He'd likewise managed to predict just who would be charged leading said scouting party before the order left her mouth. The rest of the lecture had consisted of an overview of the Garden's operational procedures, and the duties expected of the commandant. While Squall had more or less come to terms with his appointment, he still struggled to picture himself stepping up when the time came; he would be only 18 by then, younger than Xu when she'd first taken on the role. At Rinoa's behest however, he'd made a commitment to set aside his concerns for the time being. She'd even offered to postpone her training sessions with him to relieve some of the stress; she would instead seek to better her GF control on her own, or with Quistis if her schedule allowed.

Organizing his scouting party had been a simple task. He knew Zell of all people would have a personal stake in seeing his hometown safe from harm. Moreover, his mother's house would give them a base to operate from should the mission span longer than a day. Predictably, he'd leapt at the idea when Squall brought it up to him in the cafeteria on the second morning. It was then that the eavesdropping sharpshooter had made his presence known, and insisted for a spot on the team. Squall had initially been considering Quistis, but with no excuse as to why Irvine couldn't come along instead, the decision was effectively made for him.

The academy ran ashore in the early morning hours of Friday, March 26th. The gargantuan flotation ring below kept their course steady as they gently surmounted the beach. Hugging the east end of the Gaulg Mountains, the Garden slowed to a stop, and gradually started to descend. The ring continued to rotate all the while. It finally made contact with the soil, and began churning through the earth. Dirt kicked up on all sides as it carved out a massive hole in which to plant itself. The ring slowed, and ground to a halt once the Garden came to a rest on the surface; it stayed sunk into the newly incised moat, acting as a platform to be used for disembarking from ground level. That the Centrans had been capable of constructing such a technological marvel was stupendous, a staunch reminder of what had been lost to the world with the end of their civilization.

Squall and his entourage assembled in the parking garage shortly after; they were already suited up in their Galbadian disguises, with backpacks containing their civilian attire. The tunnel connecting to the main highway had been left behind when the Garden had taken off. As such, the garage's exit had been reduced to a wide automated doorway leading out onto the surrounding patch of land. Zell took the wheel of their transport, and they started off across the makeshift bridge that was the lowered flotation ring. The journey quickly devolved into a patience-testing foray; there was no clear-cut roadway for them to follow. Numerous detours were necessary to circumnavigate the many rocky plateaus and patches of forest.

Squall's thoughts soon turned to the unsettling familiarity of his uniform. It had been almost 4 weeks since his last experience in Laguna's body, unsurprisingly coinciding with his brief exchange with Ellone. Whatever it was she'd hoped to accomplish, the visions had ceased altogether. On one hand, he certainly had no desire for them to start up again. On the other, they would have at least given him some assurance that she was still out of Edea's reach. Clearly, this gift of hers was the reason the sorceress sought her so desperately. And yet, had the missile strike been successful, she too would have died in the blast. It seemed to have been a severe tactical blunder on Edea's part; surely she wouldn't have ruled out Ellone being moved to the Garden in such a time of crisis. But then, as the headmaster himself had expressed, none of this was characteristic of the woman he'd loved.

It was roughly 2 hours before they met the highway, and likewise passed by the massive crater where the Garden once stood. The wide, concave expanse of scorched earth was easily the diameter of Fisherman's Horizon's solar array. Irvine let out a whistle as they passed. Zell stayed completely mum; aside from a handful of cursory glances, he kept his eyes on the road. Squall could hardly blame him; though the fate of the Garden was accounted for, the same couldn't yet be said for his mother and hometown.

They arrived on the outskirts after another 20 minutes or so. Deviating from the road well in advance of the town's arched gateway, Zell pulled just inside the neighboring woodlands. Although their uniforms were Galbadian, the vehicle was not. The three filed out, and continued down the rest of the road on foot. Their disguises would be unnecessary were the prospective invasion yet to have begun; if so, it would only require a quick double-back to change into their casual wear. As they drew closer however, Squall could see their precaution had been warranted.

A pair of soldiers outfitted in silver and blue uniforms like their own stood guard on either side of the entrance. Squall momentarily slowed. He let Zell and Irvine pass him by as they drew closer so as to maneuver himself to the rear; it was imperative he keep his gunblade out of sight. Much to his surprise, the left-hand guard waved them on through without asking to see their ID cards. Irvine provided a courtesy wave in return. Together, the three continued on down the cobbled stone road, entirely free of traffic both pedestrian and vehicular.

"Phew!" Zell exhaled once they were out of earshot. "Figured we'd have it a little harder than that."

"Not like we coulda come from anywhere but here," Irvine reasoned. "Far as they know."

"Everything looks like it's in one piece," Squall hummed. He swept his eyes across the stout sandstone buildings on either side of the road.

"Yeah, but way too quiet," Zell muttered. "Guess everyone's too afraid to come out of their houses. C'mon, my ma's place is right down this way."

He indicated left at the coming intersection, towards the shoreline. Squall followed after as they turned the corner. The side-road was equally sparse, save for a small cluster of soldiers approaching. Though he could rationalize the lack of civilians out and about, he had no explanation for where the displaced SeeDs and cadets could be. They'd ought to have established a defense against the Galbadian forces, no matter how outnumbered they'd been. The streets showed few if any signs of a struggle; aside from the occasional abandoned shopping bag or purse lying on the ground, there was nothing to indicate so.

They passed the group of soldiers without incident. Zell then gestured down another stretch of cobbled road heading west.

"Just a couple more blocks," he assured them. "It's the house right before the road starts dipping down, across from the hardware store. Man, I hope she's al-"

Zell stalled in his speech as he turned the corner; he stood completely still. Squall quickly came to his side with Irvine, and stared along the street with him. Roughly 30 feet ahead, in front of a shuttered local cafe, a group of four were engaged in conversation. All wore uniforms roughly the same shade of dark navy blue. And yet, only two among them were Galbadian infantry. The other pair opposite them wore no visors, nor did their attire sport the standard armored plating. Theirs were the uniforms of Balamb Garden cadets, complete with the SeeD crest adorning either shoulder.

Neither party had drawn their weapons. There appeared to be no animosity whatsoever. Suddenly, one of the cadets clapped his hands together, and turned away down the road. His comrade and the two infantrymen promptly followed. Still, the troops did not draw their firearms, nor did the cadets seem intent on outrunning them. One after another, the four rounded the corner up ahead.

"What the hell?" Irvine finally broke the silence. "Those were two o' yer guys, right? What're they doin' workin' with the troops?"

"Lets tail them," Squall spoke up, taking the lead again. "We need to find out what's going on here."

They started down the street after the four. Squall turned onto the avenue they'd ducked down, catching sight of them just as they swung onto another street. He reflexively picked up the pace; if it were perfectly normal for his targets to move so hastily, then passing patrols would pay little heed to another group of soldiers doing the same. The gunblade at his side could still potentially give him away. With this latest development however, he now had enough information to come up with an excuse if need be.

He and his comrades tracked the wayward cadets and their accomplices for several more blocks. What other soldiers they did pass paid them no mind. Neither did another pair of Garden operatives standing at the side of one particular road they traversed. Squall instinctively ground to a halt as he noticed them; a large halberd and katana were strapped to their respective backs. The two faced away from him with their eyes trained to the nearest house. Following their line of sight to the front steps, what Squall then witnessed unfold came to fully command his attention.

A middle-aged man and woman, as well as a third cadet, were marched out the front door and down the short flight of stairs. The soldiers to their rear kept their assault rifles fixed to the three. One forcefully prodded the sobbing wife forward the moment she slowed to a stop; she stumbled down the last two steps, and fell to her knees in despair. The captured cadet, young, brown-haired, and green-eyed, shot an unmistakable look of disgust at the other two.

"I hope you're real proud of yourselves!" he growled as he was escorted forward to face them. "Was it worth it to turn your backs on everything we've ever known?!"

"Don't be a sore loser," the one with the katana mocked him. "It's nothing personal. We just decided to get on board with the winning team. You had the same chance, and you blew it."

"I always knew letting them build that damn Garden so close was a mistake!" the man of the house lashed out. "Some 'force for good' you brats all turned out to be!"

"Shut it!" one of the soldiers ordered from behind. He whacked him with the butt of his rifle, forcing him to his knees with his wife. "It was your own decision to harbor him, and now it's going to cost you. You three! Help escort this fugitive to the commander for interrogation."

Squall's heart leapt into his throat. He snapped into his best attempt at the Galbadian salute just as the traitorous cadets turned around.

"Yes, sir!" he affirmed. "And what of the family that sheltered him?"

"What do you think?" the infantryman scoffed. He brought the barrel of his rifle down just over the kneeling man's head.

The gunshot erupted before Squall could fully process the soldier's reply. He jolted in place. Another shot followed the very next second. His eyes widened in shock as a pair of bodies fell limply from their feet, and collapsed on the house steps. It took a moment for him to realize that they'd in fact been the soldiers; the hunched-over man and woman were completely unscathed. Broken from his trance, he whipped his head to one side. Irvine stood there with his own weapon raised, smoke wafting from both barrels.

The familiar sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard whisked his attention back to his front. Acting on reflex, Squall drew his own, and blocked the katana as it struck. The clanging gave way to the unpleasant grinding of steel on steel as they stood locked in place. He then deduced a second incoming attack out of the corner of his eye, released the parry, and narrowly sidestepped the halberd's thrust. It whooshed on by just between him and the swordsman. Reaching down with his left hand, he activated the sphere clipped to his belt. His eyes darted every which way to make an assessment of the situation. Zell moved in behind the duo to escort the rattled couple and the cadet out of harm's way. Irvine stood a ways off to the side; his weapon tracked the turncoats' every move.

"Go on with them," Squall ordered the sharpshooter. "We'll rendezvous you-know-where."

"Rodger."

Irvine cautiously circled around the confrontation with his weapon still drawn. The katana and halberd wielders followed him with their eyes. So did Squall, until he and the others passed from his field of vision.

"I should've noticed that gunblade from the moment you strolled up," the swordsman menaced.

"What's going on around here?" Squall demanded. "Why are you siding with the enemy?"

"What are you, stupid?" the one with the halberd snorted. "Well, I guess you'd have to be if you're still gonna fight for that coward, Cid, after all we know now."

Squall hesitated. Just what did he mean? The only thing he could think of was the misinformation spread by Norg's administration, that the headmaster had sided with the sorceress. It stood to reason that the conflict between both factions might have continued among those left behind. Still, it made no sense; why, if these students truly believed that Cid had sided with Edea to sell them out, would they ally themselves with her army?

"It was an easy choice to make, and you chose poorly," he derided him.

He lunged forward with the halberd outstretched. Squall brought his sword up to deflect, backing away from the sharpened tip, and sidestepped as it was thrust past him. He defensively placed the blade between himself and his opponent's to guard from the incoming sideswipe. Their weapons clashed as it came. He pushed off to free himself from the parry just as the katana wielder dashed in. Their blades met several times in quick succession. Squall was content to remain on the defensive as long as he was able; his aim was not to win, but to stall for time.

Soon after, a ruckus of shouting erupted from further down the street; a freshly arrived platoon of soldiers charged onto the scene. Recognizing it was time to disengage, Squall backpedaled away. He began focusing the wind energy into his legs, quickly sheathed his gunblade, and bolted back along the road to build up speed. After about 3 seconds, he leapt for the nearest rooftop, soaring high into the air. He landed gracefully atop its shingled roofing, and burst into a sprint across to the next. Gunfire erupted from behind. The thought of conjuring an energy shield barely registered to him, so single-minded was his determination to escape. Neither was he willing to attempt doing so while on the run.

He bounded from one rooftop to another, soaring over the desolate streets below. He frantically scanned them for any sign of a hardware store, or otherwise a decline in the road as Zell had mentioned. After what seemed to be enough blocks back to where they'd been, he finally spotted the shop in question. It was situated on the curb of a small, three-way intersection. One path branched off from the town proper, and down a gradual decline towards Balamb's renowned waterside hotel. He quickly scanned for guards, leapt down, exercised the flotation buffer technique to break his fall, and approached the house on the end opposite the hardware store.

He rapped hard on the door twice. Moments later, a heavy-set, middle-aged woman answered it. She wore a plain, white button-up blouse with a cream-colored apron thrown over top. Her wrinkled brown eyes stared into his visor with obvious apprehension.

"What do you want?" she grumbled.

Squall reached up and removed the helmet from his head. Although they'd never met, he could only hope the show of deference would help put her at ease.

"My name is Squall Leonhart," he introduced himself. He performed the SeeD salute with the helmet tucked under his free arm. "I'm a Balamb operative working undercover with your son. Is… is he here?"

"What the holy hell kind of nonsense is that?!" she scoffed. "The nerve! If you think I'm going to buy some two-bit charade like that and let you just waltz into my home, you've got another-"

She stopped in mid-sentence. Her eyes went wide as she redirected them past him. Squall craned his neck back to see the group of five had just arrived at his rear. Zell had removed his helmet in advance.

"Ma," he bashfully grinned. "It's great to see you're okay. You've got to let us in, right now. It's urgent."

Without another world, Mrs. Dincht vacated the door frame to let them through. Squall took the lead. He cast his gaze all around the house's domed central hub as he stepped inside. The circular antechamber was roughly 15 feet in diameter. Its windows were drawn open, letting sunlight stream in across the tiled stone floor. Three additional entryways had been carved from the sandstone interior; they led to a small kitchen, a staircase, and a multi-purpose room which doubled as a living and dining area. It was a perfectly cozy and humble abode for a family of three or four. He imagined it would be a tight squeeze for seven.

"Zell!" the boy's mother finally gasped as she closed the door behind them and locked the deadbolt. "What's going on? How did you get into town? Are you alright? I was worried sick when the missiles hit. I went down to the waterfront every day to see if you were there with the others."

"I'm alright, Ma," he insisted. "I'll tell you everything in a little bit. These folks here have been through a lot. Could you help them get settled, and maybe put some tea on? And… it would probably be a good idea to close the curtains."

"Sure thing!" she agreed. "Please, make yourselves at home in the living room. I'll bring the tea in as soon as it's ready."

"Th-thank you so much!" the woman whimpered in gratitude.

She took her husband's arm as they gingerly hobbled into the adjacent room. The cadet started to follow after, when Squall abruptly seized him by the wrist.

"We need to talk to you," he told him before turning back to Zell. "Is there somewhere we can speak in private? Like your room?"

"I… guess," Zell hesitantly assented. He motioned to the stairs. "But no touching anything up there. It's sacred ground, you hear?"

"Sure thing," Irvine said. "Not like bein' in a guy's room's gonna get me all excited, anyway."

Squall motioned for the cadet to follow. The twisting staircase curved along up to the second floor landing, which amounted to only a pair of doorways on either side with a bathroom straight ahead. Zell led the way into the left-hand room. The moment Irvine stepped in after him, his prior quip was suddenly recanted.

"Holy shit!" he blurted out. A set of hurried footsteps across the wooden floorboards followed.

"Hey, I said no touching!" Zell angrily protested.

Squall stepped in with the unsettled cadet, taking an obligatory glance around the room. A bed rested to one side near the shuttered windows, along with both a speed bag and punching bag further along. Turning his attention to the other side, the object of Irvine's exhilaration became apparent. Three rifles were hung above the dresser drawers, and above them, a framed picture of a decorated war veteran in full uniform.

"Man, these are old-school!" the sharpshooter lit up. "They sure don't make 'em like this anymore."

"They were my grandpa's," Zell explained. He sat himself on the bed. "He fought in the war before I was born. He was the guy I always looked up to the most, and the one who inspired me to become a SeeD in the first place."

"That so?"

Irvine's face seemed to take on an uncertain look for a moment; perhaps Zell's sentimentality for his grandfather had managed to set him straight for once.

"Let's get down to business," Squall announced. He gestured for the cadet to take a seat on the bed, next to Zell. "Your name is?"

"Collin," he muttered, apprehensively taking his place.

"Listen to me, Collin. We're with the rest of the survivors aboard Balamb Garden. We just got back this morning. Everything's going to be alright. We're going to get you and all the other stragglers out of here, but first I need you to tell me what's happened since we've been gone. Why are so many of the other students siding with Galbadia?"

The young man's eyes had gone wide at the mention of the Garden's return; they seemed to swell with hope for a faint moment. He then turned them to the floor, and sucked in a deep breath.

"That day… when the missiles came… me and a lot of the others got the news from a couple who were making the rounds. We dropped what we were doing, and followed them into town, like they told us. Most of us had nowhere to go, so the mayor had basic provisions and tents sent down to the waterfront for us to stay there. It was like our own little refugee camp."

"Did this conflict start because of the uprising in the Garden?" he asked bluntly.

Zell's face took on a puzzled look. It only then occurred to Squall that his two comrades knew nothing of the incident in question.

"Not really," Collin continued. "I mean, the tensions were still there, under the surface. There was a little bit of in-fighting here and there, but nothing major. Most of us were just happy we'd managed to get away in time. Relationships seemed like they were on the mend. It really felt like everything was going to be alright, after all. And then, five days ago… they showed up…

The clamorous whirring of heavy machinery roused Collin from his slumber. He raised himself from the cot that had served as his bed for the last 3 weeks. He rubbed his eyes, and gazed around at his tent-mates; they too had awoken. As the noise drew nearer, so did the ground beneath his feet start to rumble. The flaps of the tent began to whip wildly in a sudden gust.

"What the hell's going on?!" Bram shouted over the din. He was a cadet roughly his own age, who he'd become fast friends with since being stranded.

"You think it's the Garden coming back?!" another responded.

Collin bolted upright, and rushed outside. The state of panic had spread to every corner of the camp. Cadets and SeeDs shot from their respective tents, racing up the waterfront towards the source of the disturbance. With a single glance over the water's edge, the cause was made clear.

Just off shore hovered a gargantuan crimson battleship larger than any he'd ever seen. Its size easily matched Balamb Garden's. As it drew closer, he realized it was held aloft by a similar whirring flotation ring rising up out of the shallows. Indeed, having already witnessed his own home's transformation as it had made its way out to sea, its identity was made all the more clear to him. It was Galbadia Garden, mobilized in an identical manner.

Legions of students stood motionless on the pier, seemingly unfazed or no longer cognizant of the whipping wind. Others ran for whatever cover they could find. Most immediate were the rows of SeeD assault boats moored at the side of the docks; without the keys, or any means of hot-wiring them, they'd been of no use. The floating academy began to gradually slow. It came to a halt just before the ring made contact with the shoreline. Minutes passed in dread anticipation. The gathered survivors all murmured to one another, anxious as to what the Garden's arrival could mean. Had they come to rescue them? Collin desperately hoped so; the mysterious beige-clad operatives who'd briefly pulled into port on the first day had already refused their plight.

"Look!" Bram suddenly gasped from his side. "Up there!"

Collin followed his pointing finger to the height of the Garden. He then noticed what appeared to be a small swarm of hovering mechs, roughly 15 in all, dispersing into the air. His ears picked up on their whirring turbine engines as they descended, drawing closer to where he could make out their sleek aquamarine color schemes. The pilots were all strapped upright into their safety harnesses, with both hands fixed to the controls on either arm. His heart sunk as he noticed their uniforms. Only the one who led the pack was not clad in the regal blue and silver.

It was he who touched down before the crowd first. He swiftly unbuckled the harness, and stepped forward. His long grey coat trailed to the dock beneath his black boots. His hair was a neatly trimmed blonde, his face beneath it stern. A scar ran across the bridge of his nose from just above his left eye. The crowd's murmuring intensified at his approach.

"Seifer!"

The raucous bellow drowned out all other commotion. Collin turned to see a bulky, muscular man fighting his way through the crowd. Cadets and SeeDs parted at his behest, wary of the very real risk of being bowled over. Behind him, a significantly shorter, silver-haired woman shadowed his every step. Collin recognized them both; they were same two who'd scoured the Garden to inform everyone else of the missile strike.

"Safe?!" the woman belted out as they reached the fore of the crowd.

"Yeah, Squall was tellin' us you got captured and killed, y'know?" the tanned muscle-head blabbered. "We knew it had to be a load o' crap, y'know?"

"So, he's already been here, has he?" the blonde smirked. One of the soldiers handed him a megaphone from the side. "I wonder what other vicious lies he's been spreading. It's good that you're here. I've got an important job for you two."

"Whatever you say, y'know?"

"Committed!"

Seifer turned his attention back to the crowd before him. None among them dared so much as breathe. He clicked the megaphone on, raised it to his lips, and began to speak.

"My fellow students!" his voice boomed across the waterfront. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Did anyone miss me?"

The murmuring kicked up again, unnerved and confused. Collin didn't personally know him; he looked to be 2 or 3 years his senior. All the same, he did not take kindly to the snide tone of his voice.

"I'm sure it's been a trying time for you all. To be forced out of your home, and left to seek refuge on the streets. You've no doubt lived these last few weeks in despair, longing for the day when help will arrive. That day is today. I am here to offer you salvation, and the promise that this sad turn of events will be a blessing in disguise… for those among you who choose to believe. For years we've toiled in the Garden, training to fight for a man who cares nothing for us. A man who would turn an entire army of brainwashed children against his own wife, the very woman who established SeeD to begin with. That's right… it was not Cid Kramer who founded SeeD, but the woman who loved him, and was betrayed by him, Sorceress Edea!"

The crowd had fallen completely silent. Collin shifted his eyes every which way; a similar look of shock was plastered on every student's face. That the sorceress could possibly have been the headmaster's wife, much less the one who'd started SeeD, was beyond the pale. It was impossible, and frankly unbelievable.

"You've all been led astray by this serpent of a man, your minds corrupted, blinded to the truth for so long. We've been raised all our lives to become mindless cogs in Cid's war machine, built for a single purpose: to destroy the sorceress. To stamp out his own wife, because she possesses a power he can't understand."

In a flash, Seifer reached into his coat with his free hand. It re-emerged a moment later with a gleaming silver sphere.

"Do you see this?! This sphere and all of its kind are an abomination. A bastardization of that power, obtained through illegitimate means, and mass produced to create an army of super soldiers. It is a forbidden power that was never intended for normal humans like you and I to wield. You've all tasted it, and in turn let your minds be tainted by it."

There was no sound but the crashing of waves against the pier. Collin's tongue had become leaden; he couldn't utter a peep if he wanted to.

"Make no mistake," he assured them, returning the GF to his coat. "It is not your fault. We've been propagandized to for our entire lives by that man, for his own selfish ambitions. And it's for that reason that I've come to absolve you all."

Just as quickly as he'd pulled out the sphere before, a gleaming ebony gunblade sliced through the air. Those at the front gasped in alarm, and stepped back. He brought the blade to a halt, raised high up in the midday sky.

"Swear your allegiance to Edea," Seifer commanded. "Turn your backs on the lies you've been fed. For your bravery, you will receive even greater power, as a Sorceress' Knight. Make your decision now. Who will you follow? Our benevolent founder? Or the cowardly thief who stole it all from her, and left you here to wither away?"

Collin was utterly dumbfounded. He'd seen the sorceress publicly execute the Galbadian president on live TV, and survived the missile bombardment that had surely been intended to kill them all. Regardless of whether she were indeed SeeD's original founder, she was a power-hungry tyrant who posed a very real threat to the world. There was nothing that could persuade him to join her. Nor could he imagine any of the others doing the same.

"Count us in, y'know?"

"Allegiance!"

The pair of lackeys beside Seifer both took a knee, with their heads bowed in reverence. Collin watched on with awe as the blonde brought his blade down to knight them on either side of their heads. His face was wrought with the sickest satisfaction as he did so.

"Your sins are forgiven," he passed judgment. "As a reward for your unwavering loyalty, I'll be placing this town under your jurisdiction. You may rise… Commander and Captain."

The two raised themselves back to their feet, both positively radiant with pride. Seifer turned back to address the crowd again.

"All those who wish to swear fealty, step forward. The rest of you… we'll deal with shortly."

Seconds passed in silence before two cadets in the first row moved forward to be knighted. Several more followed, forming a proper queue. One by one, cadets and SeeDs alike fell in line. Collin looked on in amazement. His mind refused to believe what his eyes were seeing, nor would it let him throw aside his morals and join them.

"Come on," a voice spoke from his side. He turned his eyes to meet Bram's, stern and unwavering. "Let's get in line. You heard him, this is our chance for a new beginning."

Unable to stomach the thought any longer, Collin turned and bolted, never looking back.

"So, now you're telling me that jackass has started his own damn cult?!" Zell blurted out. "And what's this crap about the sorceress being the headmaster's wife?!"

"It's true," Squall said; there was no point in keeping it hidden from him. "We learned about it after we got back to the Garden. It doesn't make any sense, but the headmaster himself confirmed it for us."

Zell's jaw dropped, and stayed perpetually hanging in place. Collin, seated at his side, looked no less rattled from having recounted his tale. The sharpshooter casually leaned back in the opposite corner; he'd removed his helmet, and set it down on top of the dresser. His eyes were trained to the floorboards. The lack of a reaction didn't surprise Squall in the slightest, given what he knew now.

"After that, they split the knights up," the young cadet continued. "About half went with him aboard the Garden. The rest stayed here to search for loyalists like me. The Galbadians hot-wired all the assault boats, and took them out of the harbor. Mr. and Mrs. Pascal said they'd heard from one of the guards that they're searching for something out on the ocean."

"Ellone," Squall deduced immediately.

"You know?!"

His eyes shot to Irvine in the corner. The gunman stared intently at him with surprise.

"You know?!" Squall threw the question back at him.

"I heard it from a guy at Fisherman's Horizon," he explained. "It's the whole reason they were gatherin' everybody up in the center o' town that day. I told Cid about it, an' he said everythin' was taken care of."

"Uh, I'm a little lost here, guys," Zell interrupted. "Who's this 'Ellone' you're talking about?"

"She's a girl the sorceress has been hunting down," Squall began; he only hoped he could adequately explain given how little he still knew. "She was in the Garden before the missiles came. The headmaster sent her away on a boat the next day, with some special branch of SeeD."

"And why would she go to so much trouble just to find this one girl? Who the hell is she, anyway?"

"I… don't really know. I only met her briefly, when she was being taken aboard the other ship. All I know is that she's been under SeeD's protection for a long time. Because she has some kind of… special power that Edea must be after."

He'd deliberated whether or not to mention Ellone's strange ability. When considering the kind of power Edea had already made use of right in front of them however, he realized it might not be too far-fetched to believe after all. He braced himself for the incoming questioning.

"You don't know who she is, huh?" Irvine piped up from the sidelines. "Man, I really hope you didn't say that to her."

"What?"

Squall's head shot up. The statement had completely caught him off guard. What's more, Irvine's accent had fallen away yet again.

"You… know something about her?"

"Plenty," the sharpshooter answered calmly.

"And that's not all, is it? You also knew about Edea that night! That's the reason why you wouldn't pull the trigger, wasn't it? How do you know all these things? Answer me!"

Squall kept his eyes locked in a stare down with Irvine. Neither wavered for a moment. As opposed to his own glare, the sharpshooter's reflected a stern yet solemn look; it was akin to those he'd seen from many an instructor in his cadet days, sizing him up before the day's first training assignment. Finally, Irvine sighed, and straightened himself out from his casual lean.

"Look," he started as he made his way over. "I know we had a bit of a falling out that night. I thought you knew who Edea was and just didn't care. It was wrong of me to presume, and I don't blame you for it. Or you, Zell."

"Huh?" the blonde cocked his eyebrow. "What do I have to do with any of this?"

"More than you know. These last few weeks have given me time to do some thinking. And after listening to this kid's story just now, I'm pretty sure I know what's going on. But it's something the girls need to hear, too. I'll tell you everything you want to know some other time, when we're all together. Right now, we should focus on liberating this town, and getting all the stragglers back to the Garden. This 'commander' and 'captain' he was talking about… by the sound of it, they're the same two who came to Galbadia Garden the day we met, right?"

"Yeah," Squall affirmed. He was unsatisfied with the answer he'd been given, but ready to hold him to it should he conveniently forget.

"Any chance they can be reasoned with?"

"Wouldn't bet on it," Zell scoffed. "One's a meathead, and just getting the other to talk is like trying to draw blood from a stone."

"The way they follow Seifer, I doubt they could be persuaded," Squall agreed. "But if they're the ones running this town now, then we need to find some way of dealing with them. Do you have any idea where we can find them?"

Collin, having been ignored for so long, abruptly craned his head back up.

"I… I know the commander rarely leaves the Balamb hotel," he stammered. "But that's where the army's housing all the soldiers and knights. Just walking in there would be suicide, especially after what you guys pulled today. They're sure to be checking IDs from now on."

"And what about the 'captain'?"

"Supposedly, he spends a lot of his free time fishing on the docks. Sorry, that's really all I can tell you. I've spent the last week hiding out in someone else's house. Everything I know comes from what they've heard."

"Well, it seems like it'd be easier to focus on him," Irvine concluded. "Sounds like he's not the brightest bulb, so maybe we could use him to draw out the other one. We'd just need to get his attention somehow, and lure him into a trap."

Squall concurred with the idea, but had no idea how they could accomplish it. Raijin was an exemplar of physical fitness; outrunning him would be no small feat. Stunningly, the answer came to him with a cursory glance at Zell and Collin's feet. It rested just behind, sticking out ever so slightly from under the bed.

"What's that under there?" he broached the question.

Zell glanced down. He maneuvered a single foot below, and slid it out. Squall's eyes widened at the sight of it; he'd almost sworn it had been a mirage.

"I thought that was confiscated?" he blurted out.

"And that's why you always build two," Zell flashed him a sly smirk. "We're right across from a hardware store, remember?"

Squall's lips curled into a smirk of their own. He recalled the blonde's protestation when the first had been ripped from his grasp by the Thorn that evening. 'This thing could really come in handy on a mission someday!' he'd pleaded. That day had arrived.

Chapter Text

The training center's fluorescent lights high above reflected off the small pond. Supplemented by the water brought forth from Rinoa's palm in the last hour, the girl had likewise managed to conjure a fair amount of rainbows. She'd stuck to her regimen every day since they'd left Fisherman's Horizon. Though Quistis would drop in and out to check up on her every so often, each session was now effectively a do-it-yourself affair. The new feeling of independence suited her just fine. Even without a proper instructor, she could tell her proficiency with the Guardian Force was growing by the day. Neither did she require protection from the local fauna anymore; with food supplies still low, the wildlife population had already been hunted to near extinction.

Besides water, Rinoa hadn't been one to shy away from other varieties of spellcraft Squall had shown her. Erecting a defensive barrier had become second-nature. Occasionally, she would even attempt wind conjuration; channeling the energy into her legs still perplexed her, though doing so with her arms was no more challenging than with her standard element. She'd already managed to send several reasonably strong gusts careening across the clearing in the last few days. She was positive Squall would be impressed by her progress, whether or not he'd be willing to admit it.

And yet, she longed for something more. If she were truly to master the sphere's power, she would need to learn how to summon the creature whose essence was tied to it. She remembered the awe she'd felt at the towering sea serpent; not even Squall's own horned demon had been able to stand up to its might. She'd brought it up to him once over the course of the first two weeks, only to be told it would take about a year for her to become experienced enough. She could accept as much, but had hoped he would at least give her an inkling as to how the process worked.

For the moment however, she was content to make due with what knowledge she had. She concentrated the energy into her palm, feeling the rush of the torrent flow through her arm. It shot out as if from a fire hose, soaring clear across the pond to the outer edge of the trees. Her range had increased again. She chuckled to herself; to think, she'd only been able to form a light spray just weeks ago. Surely it wouldn't be long before she earned her place on the battlefield.

"Nice one!"

Rinoa jumped and spun around. Selphie's yellow overall-skirt combo was a glaring contrast from the surrounding greenery. Her brown boots were significantly more appropriate, carrying her over with a distinct spring in her step.

"Hard to believe you just started. It sure didn't come that easy to me at first."

"I wouldn't say it's easy," Rinoa modestly downplayed the praise. "I think I just lucked out, having the right guy to show me the ropes."

"Good point," the girl conceded. "Kinda makes me wish I'd had someone like that to help me out in the beginning. Either way, keep up the good work! The rate you're going, maybe someday you'll be showing me a thing or two."

"Thanks for the morale boost. Right now though, I'm just hoping to get on your level one day. I'm not even sure how to pull off a summon yet."

"Yeah, that one's gonna take time. Took me like… a year and a half, maybe? At least to sustain it for more than a couple of seconds. That's the tricky part."

Selphie rummaged through one of her pockets, procuring her own sphere. Its bronze outer casing was a definite contrast to her own. The brilliant white light which began to seep out was likewise far more radiant, leading Rinoa to ponder which particular element was tied to her GF. She briefly considered lightning, when she remembered the passing mention Quistis had made in the D-District Prison.

"I've never seen anyone other than Commandant Xu use holy spellcraft before. And I don't remember there being another GF of that kind on record."

"Yeah, guess I kinda won the lottery there, huh? For all the good it does us now."

She watched with bated breath as the light essence was cast from her hand. The amorphous glow quickly took shape on the grass; it was just as she'd seen on the train, when Selphie had summoned her creature to fend off the grotesque body double. The familiar rabbit ears outstretched from its head to complete the vague silhouette. A flash of light then prompted her to shield her eyes. When she brought her arm back down, the summon was complete. A coat of short, pale-green fur covered the creature, offset by the bulging ruby ingrained above its beady eyes. It stood roughly two feet tall on its hind legs. Rinoa couldn't help letting out a coo of adoration.

"He's friendly," Selphie assured her. Sustaining the summon didn't seem to be taking much out of her. "Just as long as you don't make yourself a threat."

Heeding the precaution, she gingerly approached. She slowly reached her arm down to pat the fidgeting rabbit's head. As her hand met its fluffy mane, she was amazed by the warmth and softness. For something purely comprised of energy, the sensation was remarkably realistic. It made her wonder just what the true nature of the energy contained within each sphere was.

"After I finally learned how to do it, I'd always bring him out whenever I was lonely," Selphie explained. "You know, just to have a little company, and something cute to snuggle up with."

"It was the same for me and Angelo," Rinoa smiled. She silently hoped she would get to see her beloved dog again one day.

"The problem is, it really starts to take it out of you after a couple minutes."

On cue, the rabbit's coat began to illuminate. It slowly reverted to sheer white, prompting Rinoa to step back and shield her eyes again. In a flash, the creature was gone.

"And just like that, I'd be all by my lonesome again," Selphie muttered. "But hey, that's just how life is sometimes, right?"

"I… guess."

Rinoa quickly set aside her earlier compulsion to ask her for help. Something was clearly amiss; that statement almost sounded like something that could have come from Squall.

"So, what brings you here?" she redirected the topic.

"Just thought I'd take a little hike to clear my head. You know, get some… well, the closest thing to fresh air I can. It helps me think."

"About what?"

"Well, about all this crazy stuff that's been going on. About everything that's happened around here since me and the guys have been away. About this whole war. About-"

"Trabia?"

Selphie's eyes went wide. She abruptly cast them to her feet.

"That… that's the one thing I don't want to think about," she stammered. All traces of her happy-go-lucky facade had fallen away completely. "It was all I could for those two weeks, and I've been trying really hard not to since then."

"That's not good for you," Rinoa insisted. "Living in denial isn't going to magically make everything better."

"I know that. It's just… I can't even tell you how happy I was when this place came crashing into Fisherman's Horizon. It was like a huge weight came off my shoulders. I didn't fail Balamb Garden, after all. That's what gave me the motivation to get the festival organized. But… whenever I start thinking about Trabia…"

She trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words. If she continued to speak any, they were too faint and breathy for Rinoa to catch.

"It's hard," she sympathized with her. "It was the same for me when I thought Seifer had been executed. Before… well, everything went to hell. It was hard for me to come to terms with, but I knew it was the only way for me to move on with my life. So, how about this: when Squall gets back from town, we'll tell him about it, and see if he can put in a word to the commandant about heading up there to survey the situation. It'll give you the closure you need. Better to know what's happened than keep yourself in the dark forever, right?"

Selphie kept her head craned down to the soil beneath her feet. Gradually, her right arm alone began to raise itself, as though she were a marionette tied to invisible strings.

"It's… it's bad enough not knowing what's happened to the people you love," she spoke in a broken voice. Her eyes were now fixed to the bronze sphere still clenched in her hand. "That's a feeling I already know too well. But… actually going there, and having to see it all with my own eyes… it's too much. And when I think that it's all my fault… for not being fast enough…"

The tears began rolling down her cheeks before she could finish. Not wasting a moment, Rinoa stepped forward, and wrapped her in a tight embrace. The heartbroken girl began bawling in her arms, wrapping her own around Rinoa in return. They stood locked together for minutes on end. Selphie proceeded to let out every ounce of pent up frustration and sadness, no doubt kept bottled up for the better part of a month. All the while, Rinoa remained the caring, gentle confidant she needed to be, just as she'd done for Squall the night of the festival.

"It's not your fault," she finally told her. "You did everything you could. You're one of the strongest people I've ever known, Selphie, and a real inspiration. To all of us. So, please, don't cry. We'll be right by your side when we get there. And whatever we find, we'll face it together. I promise."

Selphie sniffled, and finally withdrew from the embrace. She wiped away the last of the tears from her puffy eyes.

"You mean it?"

"Of course, I do. We'll set course for Trabia as soon as Squall gets back. I'll tell him it's an order from his client if I have to."

The quip hadn't been serious, merely a means to help lift Selphie's spirits. Like clockwork, a faint smirk crossed her lips.

"You still haven't told me how things went that night, you know," she reminded her. Rinoa suddenly felt her face become flush.

"Er, well, um… it went fine. Nothing major."

"Oh, come on, spill it! I want dirt!"

There's the Selphie I know.

"Really, it was nothing big," she insisted, letting a relieved chuckle seep into her words. "I just told him what we talked about, we danced, and we watched the bands play together. That's it."

"Well, it's a good start," Selphie smiled in return. She already seemed far more lively than when she'd first strolled up.

"And how about you and the lone gunman?" she fired a taste of the girl's own medicine back at her. On cue, she too blushed.

"N-not much different. Anyway, thanks for listening, and for the pep talk. If you need anything, just let me know."

"Well, if you're not too busy, I could still use a training partner," Rinoa hinted.

"Say no more!" Selphie agreed on the spot.

"Thanks. And actually… maybe there's one other thing you and the others could help with…"

The ocean breeze and scent of saltwater were more refreshing than Zell could ever recall. Wind whipped through his spiked blonde locks. A light spray licked at his exposed ankles. His last month away had put into perspective just how much he'd taken Balamb's simple comforts for granted. Though the state of affairs in town were worrying, he could at least be thankful for his mother's safety.

He'd changed out of the Galbadian disguise, swapping it for a set of his own clothes, and left the house ahead of the others. Much like his surroundings, the lengthy slab of metal he balanced on was its own source of sentimentality. It had been just as long since he'd last ridden one of his T-Boards; the one he'd kept in his room at the Garden had been confiscated the evening they'd set out for Timber. Both had been a product of his own handiwork. Capable of functioning over both land and water, the board was kept perpetually aloft by a pair of turbine engines on the fore and rear; the generator behind his right heel supplied power to them. The accelerator and brake pedal were both set at the front, to be controlled by his left foot. He presently kept the former floored, kicking up a trail of waves across the shallows as he sped towards the docks.

A looming man was seated on the nearest pier. He rested with his back up against the right-hand post, with a fishing rod in his hands. He visibly stirred as the sound of the turbines drew closer. His stubbled face darted to and fro, only settling on Zell as he made his final approach. Maneuvering himself around the fishing line, he sped along the inside, and bent his knees to dip his right hand into the water. He splashed it squarely in the man's face as he ripped on past.

"What the hell?!" Raijin angrily shouted. He dropped the rod as he shook the wetness away.

Zell released his foot from the accelerator, pivoting back around to face him. The bronze muscle-head's glare radiated sheer fury.

"Long time no see, y'know?" Zell irately greeted him. "You and your pals better start packing, and get the hell outta my town!"

"Well, if it ain't the chicken-wuss!" Raijin shot back from the pier. He reached down to take up his over-sized fighting staff. "Seifer told us to give you guys a whoopin' if we saw you, y'know? Get up here so I can knock that spiked head o' yours off!"

"Hey, not so rough, you hear?" he taunted him with a finger raised to his temple. "Lotta info stored up here you might want. Like, say, where Ellone's hiding out."

Raijin's menacing eyes bulged at the bluff, just as Squall had predicted. Zell tilted his T-Board towards the docks, and flashed him a knowing smirk. He floored the pedal again, sending him lurching forward towards the raised waterfront. Carefully maneuvering his right heel into position, he depressed a small switch, and braced for lift off. The board shot up vertically as it neared the stone barrier. Zell was carried over and onto the docks, courtesy of a sudden burst of additional thrust from the turbines. He stuck the landing as he'd practiced countless times, and tore off in the direction of the town.

He glanced back over his shoulder. Raijin charged after him a fair ways behind, his boots pounding on the docks. Even weighed down by the staff he now carried on his back, his speed was intimidating. Had the chase been on foot, he would have surely caught up already. The plan didn't necessitate he completely outrun Raijin. Still, he found it hard to justify taking his foot much further off the accelerator.

Zell zigged and zagged along the waterfront, before taking a sharp turn up the winding roadway into town. The street was completely free of traffic all along its length. He soon swung around the corner, and onto the straightaway where the Balamb Hotel sat. Finally, a contingent of soldiers for him to dodge stood in his path. He ignored their frenzied demands to pull over, blowing by them without a second thought. Turning his head back again, he saw the rampaging Raijin come careening down the street, nearly bowling them over. Zell chuckled as they scrambled to get out of the way. Several ducked inside the hotel, doubtless to inform the 'commander'.

All according to plan, so far…

He continued to lure the blundering 'captain' along, up to where the road intersected by his own house, and abruptly turned the opposite way. He flew by roughly two dozen infantrymen and sorceress knights, very nearly slamming into a few as he rounded each closely cut corner. The buildings on either side melded together in his peripheral vision, barely distinguishable from one another. His familiarity with the town's layout was the only reference he needed. With each glance behind, Raijin kept barreling after at top speed; he paid no more heed in avoiding his comrades than those outside the hotel. More frightening still, he seemed to be gaining. The anxiety reminded Zell of when the spider-bot had chased them down the mountain.

At last, he turned the corner into a dead end alleyway, and took his foot off the accelerator. The T-Board gradually decelerated as it continued past the dumpsters and assorted piles of trash lining either side. It swiveled back around at Zell's command to face the entrance. He stepped off with one foot, killed the ignition with his other, and kicked up the board just as Raijin rounded the corner. A pair of Galbadian soldiers followed him into the alley. It was just the number Zell had hoped to see.

Having already begun channeling the GF's energy into his arm in advance, he slammed his fist down. The ground shook as his glove's steel knuckles connected. A small faultline erupted, snaking its way forward like a lit fuse. Raijin stopped in his tracks as it passed right between his legs. The two infantrymen sidestepped to either wall of the alley, neither appearing surprised in the slightest. As the crease finally reached the intersection with the road, Zell willed the energy to surge upward. The ground violently sprung up to form an earthen barricade, barring all passage in or out of the alley.

Raijin craned his neck back to the newly erected wall. With his face turned away, Zell was left to imagine his surprise as the two infantrymen suddenly trained their weapons on him.

"Hands up!" the nearest one ordered. "Get down on yer knees, an' don't move a muscle!"

After a moment of what looked to be disbelief, Raijin complied. He turned back towards Zell, placed his hands over his head, and lowered himself to his knees. The soldier approached, keeping his weapon trained to his captive. He motioned for his comrade to take the fighting staff strapped to his back. The second soldier stepped forward, gingerly holding one of Zell's grandfather's rifles; his body language betrayed a lack of assertiveness. That the old-fashioned weapon held no ammo was one explanation. That he was an untested cadet without experience in the field was another.

As he reached forward to take the staff, Raijin's leg abruptly shot out. The sweeping kick traveled in a full 180 degree arc in the blink of an eye. Both infantrymen were toppled from their feet, crying out in unison. Zell swiftly cast the T-Board aside and charged in. He conjured a set of earthen gauntlets to meet the staff head on as Raijin swung it off his back.

His first two jabs were deflected with ease; the weapon's sturdy frame didn't budge despite his amplified strength. It came whirling back around from the side the next moment, forcing him to raise his left gauntlet for a block. The impact was immense; his sneakers skidded several inches back as he fought against it. He followed with a right hook before Raijin could release himself from the parry, provoking him to step backwards. As the fist whizzed harmlessly through the air, the muscle-head glanced back over his shoulder. The pair of soldiers had both risen from the tumble they'd taken. He began turning back in their direction, whirling his staff wildly to keep Zell at bay.

Just then, a third soldier suddenly fell from above, landing right in the divide between them. A clanging of steel echoed through the alley as the gunblade halted the spinning staff in mid-motion.

"Drop it!" the swordsman commanded. "You're outnumbered, with nowhere to run. Just do as we say, and no one has to get hurt."

They stood locked in a stalemate. Zell took the opportunity to further close in on Raijin's rear to limit his mobility. Flanked on both sides, it should have been obvious he couldn't hope to fight his way out of the ambush. On cue, the toned muscleman begrudgingly let the weapon fall from his grasp. Zell placed one of his gauntlets on his back, and forced him to his knees again. Squall removed the helmet from his head, letting it fall to the ground beside the staff. Irvine and Collin moved around him in either direction, keeping their firearms fixed to Raijin.

"Dammit!" he swore as Irvine knelt down to secure his weapon. "It's jus' not fair, y'know?"

"If you want to leave this alley in one piece, answer my questions," Squall menaced. He lowered his blade to where it hovered threateningly beside his neck. "Why have you sworn allegiance to the sorceress?"

"Get real! Me an' Fujin don't give a rat's ass 'bout her, y'know? We're only in this for Seifer's sake."

"What's the fucking difference?!" Zell raged. He strengthened the pressure on Raijin's back to force him further down. "This thick-headed loyalty you've got for that guy has to stop, now! Can't you tell he's lost his mind?"

"Even so, we've still gotta-"

A sudden explosion cut him off. Zell's eyes shot up to the stone barricade he'd erected at the alleyway entrance. Chunks of dirt and cobblestone shot forth from a newly incised opening, followed by a small platoon of three soldiers and two knights. They froze on the spot as they noticed the hostage situation in progress. As the squad spread out as far as they were able, a sixth figured stepped in from the streets. Her lone functional eye darted back and forth beneath her silver fringe. It widened at the sight of her second in command.

"Tell them to wait outside," Squall craned his neck back to Fujin. "We're just looking to talk."

The terse young woman stood motionless for several moments. Zell kept his hold on Raijin all the while; it was as much to keep him in place as to stabilize himself amidst the rising tension. Finally, Fujin gestured to the platoon. They obeyed, filing out of the alley one by one. As soon as the last had cleared the opening, she turned her menacing glare back to them.

"Release!" she ordered in her usual, concise manner.

"Not until we get an explanation," Squall countered. He kept his gunblade close to Raijin's neck as he circled around to face her. "I don't care how you two want to dress it up, siding with Seifer is siding with the sorceress."

"False!"

"Then why are you doing her bidding? How can you be alright with holding this town hostage?"

"You think we enjoy this?!" Raijin exploded. "Don't go gettin' things twisted, y'know? Seifer put us in charge o' this place, an' told us to keep an eye out for this 'Ellone' girl. An' when we took that responsibility, the first thing we did was tell the troops they couldn't put a finger on the townsfolk, 'less they get permission straight from us. They wanted to round everybody up for interrogation, y'know? We said that wasn't right, and we weren't gonna stand for it. If we were gonna do this, we were gonna make it as painless as possible for everyone here, y'know?"

"Tell that to this guy right here!" Zell motioned to Collin. "What about him, and all the other students you've been hunting down for days? His shelter family was nearly killed this morning for hiding him!"

"That's not on us, y'know? Seifer's the one who ordered the knights to go after them. We don't got the authority to go against that, y'know?"

"Yes, you do!" Squall roared. His usually stoic face was more fraught with emotion than Zell had ever seen. "You can put your foot down, and tell him how you really feel. You're not obligated to follow him in every single thing he does."

"Choice," Fujin quipped.

"So, you know it's wrong, but decided to go along with it anyway?" Zell muttered with disgust. The temptation to slam Raijin into the pavement was almost too much to bear.

"Jus' listen," he begged, obviously straining under the pressure. "We're not followin' him because we have to, y'know? We do it because we're his friends… his only friends."

"Aw, ain't that sweet," Irvine sarcastically growled through gritted teeth.

"Truth!" Fujin insisted.

"Yeah, I mean, jus' think about it. Seifer has a lotta followers now, but we're still his only friends. We're a posse, y'know? The soldiers an' the knights, they only go along with him because they're afraid of the sorceress. Without us, Seifer wouldn't have a posse. He wouldn't have anyone to help him keep bein' the guy we know he is, deep down, y'know? You don't gotta tell us this sorceress lady's bad news. We jus' wanna make sure Seifer doesn't lose who he is along the way. We're friends, an' sometimes friends hafta make sacrifices for each other, y'know?"

"Yeah, I do know," Squall cut him off.

Zell momentarily took his focus off Raijin. He was amazed such words could have come from the temperamental lone wolf of Balamb Garden.

"What I want to know is why if you stand behind him so much, you just go along with all this like it's nothing! If you really believe he's still the same friend you've always known, then you need to be the ones to help turn him back from this road he's started down. Take a stand for what you believe in. Order the army to withdraw, and tell him he needs to stop this nonsense! Either that, or we bring in SeeD, and do a clean sweep."

Squall's ultimatum hung in the air for an uncomfortably long time. Zell swiveled his eyes between Raijin below him, Collin and Irvine on either side, Squall to his fore, and Fujin standing still as a statue by the hole in the wall. He expected a force far greater in scale waited on the other side. The threat to bring in the Garden's forces was entirely contingent on them escaping. It was possible Squall had arranged for the commandant to send in reinforcements after a set amount of time, but that did nothing to help them now. He sucked in a breath through his nose, preparing himself for the fight of his life should Fujin refuse to listen.

"Ellone isn't in this town," Squall went on. "That I can tell you for a fact. You have nothing to gain by keeping your forces stationed here. Tell your men, and order a withdrawal back to Galbadia on the intercontinental line. It'll save a lot of unnecessary bloodshed. And based on what you've told us, I get the impression you'd want to avoid that, too."

Fujin's eye, downcast to the ground, finally rolled up to meet his. She snapped to attention, and performed the Garden salute.

"Affirmative."

"Yeah, we ain't lookin' to turn this place into a war zone, y'know?" Raijin agreed. "If that's what it's gonna take, then fine. We ditch this place, an' you guys don't follow after, y'know?"

"Sure thing," Squall accepted the terms. "So, for the record… you and the others want nothing to do with Balamb Garden now? If it comes down to this again, we're not going to hold back, understand?"

"I guess we'll see what the future holds, y'know?"

The response was satisfactory, even if it didn't inspire much confidence in Zell. Squall finally motioned for him to release Raijin. He complied, allowing the hulking man to rise to his feet. Irvine and Collin lowered their weapons, the former handing the guard staff back to him.

"Three days," Squall said bluntly. "We'll be back to check in on this place. If you're not gone by then, we bring in the troops."

"Fair," Fujin accepted.

"Yeah, don't worry 'bout us, y'know?" Raijin boasted. "We'll be gone by tomorrow."

"I'll hold you to that one," Zell quipped.

He disengaged his conjured gauntlets, and turned back along the alley to retrieve his T-Board. Placing it under his arm, he followed his fellow Garden operatives, both current and former, out through the hole in the earthen barricade. His eyes went wide as he stepped on through. Thirty or more soldiers and knights crowded the street, their weapons all held at the ready.

"Listen up!" Raijin bellowed. "Everybody stand down. We've had a good little chat, y'know? Turns out we were lookin' in the wrong place all this time. This town's clean. So, start packin' your stuff, 'cause we're headin' back to Galbadia tomorrow mornin'!"

The troops lowered their arms as commanded. They instantly began muttering with one another; evidently, none of them could believe the news.

"Dismissed!" Fujin belted at the top of her lungs.

"Yeah, move your asses! Go, go, go!"

The soldiers and knights all scattered as Raijin began twirling his staff every which way. He just barely missed several of those who'd been standing on the outer rim. Zell stifled a chuckle; given their quick reaction time, he guessed it couldn't have been the first time they'd been shepherded about like so. Not waiting for express permission of his own, Squall re-donned his helmet, and started down the street.

"You sure 'bout this?" Irvine skeptically asked him. "You're really alright with jus' lettin' 'em go?"

"They genuinely believe they can bring Seifer back to his senses," he stated matter-of-factly. "I'm not so sure it can be done, but… if there's anyone who could…"

He trailed off without finishing his thoughts. Zell fell in line with Collin, likewise taken aback by Fujin and Raijin's determination. Almost equally startling was Squall's own, however. For what animosity he'd shared with Seifer, even before the emergence of Sorceress Edea, he was still willing to hedge his bet on a chance, however slim, that he could be saved. Even if just for a brief instant, he'd shown genuine concern for his rival's fate. This couldn't possibly have been the same self-absorbed, uncaring husk Zell had known for so long. It was perhaps the most remarkable change of heart he'd ever seen. And he intuitively knew just who it was owed to.

I swear, before this is all over, I'm gonna make sure those two get together…

Chapter Text

The field of flowers stretched on for untold acres in every direction. Countless yellow petals shone in the beaming midday sunlight, all looking as if they'd been bestowed with a heavenly splendor. It was breathtaking to behold. Besides a pair of worn, white stone buildings in the distance, it was a rare display of nature left undisturbed by man. Laguna sucked in a breath of crisp spring air through his nostrils; he was now more thankful than ever to not have pollen allergies. It might very well have been the most tranquil place in the world. It was certainly beyond anywhere else he'd seen during his tenure as a travel journalist, and a perfect locale as any to cap off his career.

Under normal circumstances, he would have been content to take his time; he'd have basked in the beautiful scenery for the rest of the day before taking his leave to organize his report. These were far from normal circumstances, however. For every moment he stood idly by, Ellone remained in captivity. Who knew what kind of treatment she might be receiving from her kidnappers with each passing day? Had only his boss in Timber been so understanding, he would already be on his way into Esthar with Kiros and Ward.

A desperate need for additional traveling money required he take on one last assignment. He'd considered returning to Winhill to ask Raine to spare some of her own savings, but couldn't bring himself to do so; she'd need every gil to support herself in his absence. Moreover, he'd sworn to her that he would return with their daughter. That was a promise he intended to keep. To face her again without Ellone at his side would be unacceptable.

Finally tearing his focus from the flowers, he cut across the field towards the nearby settlement. He could recognize the architectural style even at a distance. Its stone pillars were reminiscent of the Tomb of the Unknown King outside Deling City, implying it to be a remnant from the age of the Holy Dollet Empire. It appeared long abandoned; thick ivy and overgrowth ensnared much of the exterior. He couldn't guess what purpose it might have once served, situated on a lonely island so far south of the capital; he'd rented a motorboat from the coastal city of Torama roughly 30 miles northeast. As he drew closer, the top of a lighthouse poking out over the main building came into focus.

[Isn't that…?]

The tingling sensation shot through his mind again, forcing his attention back down to what lay directly ahead of him. Only then did he realize the building was not abandoned after all. A woman in a plain black dress knelt by a small garden on the edge of the flower field. Her long, flowing hair perfectly matched her drab attire. Her slender, pale arms were the only contrast. A small wooden basket hung from her left, filled with several tomatoes, an ear of corn, and two heads of lettuce. She'd raised her head to him by the time he'd drawn close enough to count.

She was quite young, likely in her early-to-mid twenties, green-eyed, and remarkably pretty. Her lips furrowed into a frown at his approach. He halted in his tracks, and brought his hand up to indicate he'd come in peace.

"Hi," he greeted her with a smile. Her frown did not waver.

"Hello," she apprehensively returned the greeting. She gingerly set down her basket, and rose from her knees.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," Laguna apologized, rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't know anybody lived all the way out here."

"May I ask what brings you to this island?"

Her question was blunt, but expected. Laguna lowered his arm, and cleared his throat. He prepared to put forward the best air of professionalism he could; this woman clearly wasn't one who took kindly to strangers.

"I'm a travel journalist," he began. "I work for a fairly well known publication, Timber Maniacs. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

"I can't say I have," she answered frankly. Her eyes dipped to the soil at her feet. "But then, it's been so long since I've been back to the mainland. My husband is the one who keeps me up to date with everything going on in the world, and only whenever he comes home."

Laguna shrunk back but slightly; that she'd lived confined to this island for so long was difficult to fathom. Though part of him had wanted to stay in Winhill for the rest of his days, it had been wholly contingent on having Raine and Ellone to come home to.

"You mean… you live here all by yourself?" he delicately asked. "That must get very lonely."

"It does," she sighed.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, if I was surrounded by this every day, I probably wouldn't want to go anywhere else, either."

"You didn't answer my question," she reminded him, bringing her eyes back up to his. "Why have you come here?"

"Well, like I said, I'm a journalist. I've been traveling all over for the last year or so, writing articles about all the different places I've been to. Due to some… unexpected family circumstances, I'm going to have to put my career on hold. I asked my boss if he could give me my yearly bonus in advance. He told me I have to give him one more article before he'd make an exception like that, so I had to find somewhere new to cover, fast. I'd never been out to this island before. My home's just a couple hours north on the mainland, so I knew it was here. I figured it'd be as good a place as any. And I have to say, it's blown my expectations out of the water."

The young woman did not respond immediately. Her gaze flitted all about him, as though she were sizing him up.

"I see," she finally muttered, turning her head away. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but… could you please find somewhere else to write your article about? Suffice it to say, I have reasons for keeping myself distanced from the mainland, and I just know having this island publicized will only bring unwelcome attention."

Laguna's tongue caught in his throat. On one hand, he could sympathize with her aversion to large scale tourism; it was the very same reason he'd never written an article about Winhill. With Ellone's fate becoming more uncertain by the day however, he couldn't afford to waste time searching for another locale.

"I can understand why you'd be wary of that," he tried to negotiate. "But I really need to get this assignment finished as soon as possible. This family situation I'm dealing with is a very serious one."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but my answer is final. I ask that you please respect my wishes. I'm sure the few days it will take you to find someplace else won't hurt. Good day, sir."

She reached down to retrieve her basket of fresh produce, and turned on her heel back towards her house.

"Wait!" Laguna blurted out. "Please, I'm begging you! You don't understand! I desperately need to get moving now! I need to find a way into Esthar as fast as I can!"

"Esthar?!"

The woman in black stopped in her tracks, and spun back around at frightful speed. Her face, so calm and unfazed before, now wore a mask of incredulity.

"Why in the world would you ever want to go there?"

He hesitated, pondering if he really ought to share something so personal with a total stranger. It wasn't for fear she would tell anyone; her self-imposed isolation assured him of that. Neither did she seem untrustworthy. It was the principle of the matter he was hung up on. Having already carried such hefty emotional baggage himself for the last two weeks, he did not wish to shift the load upon anyone else's shoulders without good reason. After a brief pause, he decided there was one; any possibility of convincing her was worth a chance.

"A couple of weeks ago, Esthar sent a detachment of soldiers to my town. And they… they took my daughter away."

"Your daughter?!" the woman repeated hysterically. "They… don't tell me… she was taken to be Sorceress Adel's successor, wasn't she?"

"That's what I think too," Laguna sighed, tilting his head down to his boots. "And I'm determined to get her back, no matter what the cost. That's why I need to get a move on, as quick as I can. Who knows what they've been doing to her all this time? I miss her… so, so much. I just wish I could hear her voice again…"

Tears began welling up in his eyes. He only barely found the strength to hold them back. He knew if he allowed a single one to fall, so too would he be plunged back into the despair Kiros had snapped him out of.

[I'd like to see her again, too…]

"I… I understand."

Laguna glanced back up to the woman, her face now visibly distraught.

"I've always longed to have children of my own. My husband and I have tried, but… it's just not possible for us. I truly do envy the bond shared between a parent and their child. I can't even imagine the pain of having it ripped apart at the seams. I'm so sorry."

"I never thought I'd get to know what that bond's like either," he spoke again, wiping his eyes. "It's strange… just a few years ago, I never could have seen myself as a father, or even an adoptive one. I was a slacker, the guy who wanted the easy life. All I ever thought about was looking out for myself. Living life on my own terms, day in and day out, without any care for the future. But… ever since Ellone came into my life… suddenly I know exactly what it means to love unconditionally, and how putting another person's well-being over your own can really be the most rewarding thing of all. I was always looking for something to give my life meaning, and I found it. I'd do anything for her, as if she were my own blood. As far as I'm concerned, she is!"

He stared into her eyes intensely. His heart pounded as a righteous pride flared up inside him. In a sudden flash of intuition, he knew exactly the words this young woman needed to hear.

"There are too many orphaned children out there, suffering. I've seen it firsthand plenty of times, back when I served in the army. So, if you really feel like there's a hole in your heart… maybe taking one or two in will give you the fulfillment you're looking for. It was the best decision I ever made. It's made me the man I am today."

She stood before him in silence, tears now welling in her own eyes. A moment later, it became clear she did not have his same emotional resilience to hold them back.

"I… I think you might be right," she stammered. The watery trails streaked down her face. "It's been miserable living here all by myself. I've been here for so long… keeping myself shut off from the rest of the world… just letting my life pass by without purpose. But… maybe now I can find that purpose… by making a difference in others' lives."

Laguna smiled contentedly. For a moment, he recalled his last night with Julia, when she'd told him of the inspiration he'd given her to follow her own dream. It couldn't have been a coincidence that the same feeling in his head had persisted both times, to speak nothing of all the others. It had to be a sign.

"I've changed my mind," she spoke, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Write as much as you want about this place. Who knows? Maybe by the time word gets around to people, I'll have something to show them when they get here. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much you've helped me today. I really do hope you get your daughter back."

"I will," Laguna affirmed. He flashed her a thumbs-up. "And once I do, you can bet I'll bring her here to see the flowers. She'd love it."

For the first time, the woman smiled. She looked positively radiant, as though she were touched by the same divine gift as the golden field.

"I'll be looking forward to meeting her…"

"Man, did I miss these things!"

Squall glanced up from his cup of coffee and the remains of his lunch on the cafeteria table. Zell had appeared by his side, his teeth presently sunk into a fresh hot dog smothered with relish. It couldn't have been his first since they'd restocked on food from their private supplier in Balamb. Regardless, his sheer elation would have fooled most. Squall was more thankful for a return to standard portion sizes. Although life as they'd all known it would never be the same again, such a small but significant shift back to normalcy was welcome.

"You'd think it was a gourmet meal," he muttered.

"Might as well be, the way we've been eating up 'till now," he replied. He took the seat opposite him without waiting for an invitation. "Plus before, when me and the others were undercover. Really makes you appreciate the little things. I don't even wanna think what it's been like for the new arrivals."

"Or the survivors at Trabia," Squall quietly concurred. "Provided there are any left at this point."

Fujin and Raijin had reportedly kept to their word. Within a day, Balamb had been rid of any trace of Galbadian occupation. The dispatched SeeDs reported that the townspeople were celebrating in the streets upon their arrival. The remaining Garden loyalists had likewise come out of hiding, and promptly been shuttled back aboard later that night along with the first shipment of provisions. Had any defectors remained behind, none dared admit their short-lived act of treason.

Despite his skepticism, Squall truly hoped the pair would be able to convince Seifer to turn back from the dark path he'd started down. Their success or lack thereof would determine SeeD's next course of action. Should he refuse to come to his senses, would he order the army be dispatched back to Balamb just as quickly? The possibility presented a dilemma. Would it be more prudent to remain stationed on the island? Or set off in search of the mobile Galbadia Garden?

A third option, and the one they'd ultimately decided upon, had been presented to him when he'd returned. Rinoa and Selphie had both pleaded with him to put in a word with the commandant to head for Trabia Garden. It was an easy choice to make. Beyond Selphie's ties to the academy, he understood their alliance necessitated SeeD act accordingly to ensure any survivors were extricated. Evidently, so did Xu; it had already been the next order of business on her agenda all along.

And so, after another 2 days spent resupplying, and 4 more on the ocean bound for the northern continent, the Garden now gently crested across the sprawling Bika Snowfield. The frosty plains passed on by through the cafeteria windows; even now, in early April, the ground was still coated with a light gloss. The sight alone brought a subliminal chill over Squall, making his steaming hot coffee all the more satisfying. Further, his sleep had been restless. So it had been for the entire week, culminating with his most recent Laguna dream. After more than a month, another vision from Ellone had finally come. Why had she waited so long? To reassure him that she was okay? Or was it a call for help? There was no way for him to know, and no use wracking his brain over it now.

"Must be rough living up here in the winter," Zell observed as he scarfed down the last of his hot dog. "Even now, without heating, you'd be freezing your ass off. I guess we've just gotta hope those guys were resourceful enough to last this long."

"That's given anybody survived the missiles to begin with," Squall reminded him; the White SeeDs had given explicit confirmation of the strike to the headmaster.

"I just don't get what's going on here," Zell threw his hands up. "So, the sorceress is the headmaster's wife, and helped him put SeeD together in the first place, right? None of us knew anything about her for all these years – or at least I sure as hell didn't – and now she just up and decides she wants to burn it all down? It doesn't make any sense."

"We didn't know about her," Squall corrected him. He clenched his coffee cup tighter. "But somehow, that guy did. And I'm convinced Seifer must have, too. It's the only reason I can think of for why he'd throw his entire life away to serve her."

"I still think he's been brainwashed. I mean, come on, you saw what happened to everyone else that night."

"I don't think so… he still acts too much like himself. The civilians that night were all mindless zombies. He's too self-aware to be just another one of them. And when I think about what he said to me in the prison, and based on what Collin told us… there's got to be something he knows that none of us do. Well, all except one of us."

Irvine had still yet to provide the explanation he'd promised in Balamb. He'd said then that it was something everyone needed to hear, but made no effort to organize a gathering. Squall expected the talk to come within a matter of days at the most. It had already been a full week.

"Yeah, I keep bugging him to tell me what's up," Zell said. "He just tells me it's 'not the right time'. The suspense is killing me. Why's he have to be so cryptic?"

"Maybe he needs a little incentive."

Squall set his coffee back down, and rose up out of his chair. What little patience he had for Irvine's shiftiness had finally worn out.

"Hey, take it easy!" the blonde rose to meet him. "It's not that big a deal. We're gonna be at Trabia soon, anyway, right? It'll be the perfect opportunity to get everyone together. So, let's just cool it for now."

At Zell's insistence, he stifled the urge to storm out of the cafeteria, and eased himself back down into his chair. He was right; their imminent arrival would be an ideal time to organize their group. Moreover, as the newly ordained commandant-to-be, he needed to maintain his composure.

"As soon as we're all on the ground, he's talking."

"Sure thing," Zell agreed. "Just try to keep it civil when it happens."

"If you insist," he replied. He took another sip of coffee to calm himself.

"Cool. Oh, and while I'm here… do you think I could borrow that ring of yours?"

Squall resisted the urge to spit all over himself in surprise; he only just managed to keep the coffee on its intended course down his throat. He then glanced at his left hand resting on the table. The custom-made silver band was engraved with a lion's head in mid-roar. It was the same design as on his gunblade, and the pendant around his neck.

"Why?"

"It just looks kinda cool," Zell said nonchalantly. "I promise I won't lose it or anything. Please?"

"Not until you tell me what you need it for."

The blonde's naivete unsettled him. What's more, there was an unmistakable air that he was hiding something.

"Oh, come on!" he pleaded. "Just trust me, will ya? I'm not gonna do anything weird with it. I promise I'll give it back in a few days, good as new. So, just humor me this one time, alright?"

He knew Zell was up to no good, and that he ought to simply ignore him. He also knew just how relentless his pestering could be, however. He reluctantly brought his hand up, and slipped it off his finger.

"It better not get so much as a scratch on it," he warned as he extended the ring out over the table.

"No problem," Zell beamed.

He caught it as Squall dropped it into his open palm. Rather than sliding it onto one of his own fingers, he placed it in one of his jacket's pockets, and pulled the zipper shut.

"Thanks man," he grinned, rising out of his seat. "Well, I've got some stuff to take care of before we arrive. I'll see ya when we touch down, I guess."

First Selphie, then Irvine, and now him… I am so sick of people keeping secrets from me…

Of the five continents which made up the planet's total land mass, Trabia was the last to be settled by mankind. To date, its population density lagged woefully behind Galbadia's, and even Esthar's last recorded pre-war figures. Having never shown any aspirations of becoming a major power on the world stage, its government had long been content to take a neutral stance in most geopolitical affairs. Their rationale was simple: keeping themselves amicable meant more outlets for trade. Agriculture was their bread and butter. Advances in the field over the years had been enough to keep their own civilization prosperous despite the frigid climes.

Naturally, sharing a border with Esthar along with their lack of military strength had made them a prime target during the early days of the Sorceress War. Many skirmishes had been fought across the southeastern shore of the Bika Snowfield, and the northern edge of the Vienne Mountains. With Galbadia's aid, they'd managed to repeatedly beat back Adel's forces, to where attacks eventually stopped altogether after the first two years. Still, tensions only continued to rise once the famous crater was suddenly blown open in the mountains. No one knew what had caused it, or what it meant for the state of the world if Esthar had a weapon so destructive.

Despite the lull over the following years, Galbadia's troops had remained stationed in Trabia. Once SeeD brokered the deal to construct Galbadia Garden however, the Trabian government had stepped in and insisted for a spot at the table as well; the opportunity to finally build up a professionally trained army of their own had been too tempting to let slip by. And so, Trabia Garden was founded under the same legal agreement that its graduates be split between SeeD and the nation's own military, and Galbadia accordingly withdrew its forces.

By comparison, they'd remained on good terms with Balamb through the years, even after Norg's decision to withhold GF technology. Despite the region's lower population totals, the Garden had still housed a student body numbering in the thousands. As it slowly came into Squall's view however, it was obvious that number had been utterly decimated.

What was left of the looming academy became visible from the command bridge well before they'd begun their landing procedure. Its demolished remains towered above all else in the vicinity, with shards of its shattered flotation ring stuck into the snowy earth all around. With a set of binoculars, Squall had noticed a reasonably large gathering of tiny specks scatter all over the premises as they drew near. At Xu's command over the intercom, the outgoing first-response team had assembled in the parking garage for deployment. Their transports were outfitted with snow treads to better cover the terrain. Squall's usual entourage were among them, all outfitted in their formal Garden attire. Even Irvine was dressed in a blue cadet uniform, which he'd been given in lieu of having no other clothes besides those from Fisherman's Horizon. Among them all, Squall kept his attention fixed on Selphie. Her face looked positively dour as she'd filed into her vehicle.

This is going to be one of the hardest days of her life…

The motorcade swiftly rolled out of the garage and across the snowy plains. From the passenger side of the commandant's leading vehicle, Squall watched the ring of scorched earth draw closer. A jagged, cracked roadway ran through what must have once been a dense forest; only charred, splintered remnants dotted the expanse now. The transport jerked and lurched as its treads fought to surmount each and every crag.

The ruined gateway leading onto the premises soon came into view. A congregation of survivors stood before it with their weapons drawn. All wore matching grey cadet uniforms akin to Balamb's blue variant, save for a dark-haired, middle-aged man at the front. His outfit might have once been an elegant robe; its color had faded from having accumulated so much grime. Xu gradually slowed to a stop before the crowd. The motorcade behind followed her example. Squall threw open the passenger-side door, and followed her out onto the ruined roadway.

"Commandant Xu Adrastia of SeeD, at your service," she loudly announced herself with the usual salute. "We're terribly sorry for how long it's taken us to make our way up here. We're ready and willing to assist in any way we can."

The restless murmuring among the Trabia cadets swelled in volume. Appearing to take her at her word, most re-holstered, sheathed, or otherwise stowed away their weapons. Squall momentarily craned his neck back to the rest of the transports. His fellow SeeDs and cadets all emerged, fortunately without their own arms drawn. He turned back to see the robed man step forward to meet Xu.

"Headmaster Dodonna," he introduced himself with a handshake. "It's quite alright. I understand Balamb Garden must have had its own share of struggles over this last month. Please, forgive us for the less than warm welcome just now. When we first saw you coming this way in the distance, we thought… well, we'd gotten word in about the sorceress' takeover of Galbadia Garden, and how it's been somehow mobilized. I could hardly believe it when I first heard it, but to actually see such a thing firstha-"

"Ami!"

Squall spun on his heel towards the cry. Selphie raced forward across the cragged roadway; she stumbled several times, yet largely maintained her speed all the while. A second girl from the Trabia side yelped her name in return, and likewise sprinted ahead. The two collided to form an embrace several feet from Squall's side. Under usual circumstances, he would have found himself wincing in disgust at Selphie's lack of professionalism. As the two stayed locked in their hug however, he understood it was only natural. This was her home. Seeing a close friend safe after such a horrifying ordeal would bring out the same emotional response in anyone. He'd felt it himself, when he'd discovered she, Zell, and Irvine had survived their infiltration mission.

You're sure as hell never going to see me give any hugs, though…

"Perhaps it would be best if we discussed these matters somewhere more private," Xu suggested. "I'm sure all of the transfer students would appreciate some time for catching up. Wouldn't you say so, Leonhart?"

Squall's attention shot back around to the commandant and Trabia's headmaster. He solemnly nodded, and waited as they gave their respective factions leave to mingle and provide assistance where needed. Both parties began to disperse and trail off in all directions. Some gathered around the parked vehicles to chat. Others started inward through the arched entrance to the ruined campus. Dodonna beckoned him and Xu to follow his lead after them. They were quick to oblige, although he'd been expecting a return to Balamb Garden, where the two headmasters would be at leisure to speak with one another. They passed on through, moving ahead towards a ruined courtyard.

"I assume the casualty figures are massive," Xu raised the all-important question.

"It could have been far worse," the headmaster replied. "Some of our scouts out west on the Hawkind Plains spotted the missiles, and sent us a transmission right away. We ordered an evacuation as soon as we got the word, but… well, it just wasn't enough time. We managed to get maybe a little less than half of the student body clear of the blast radius."

Squall flitted his eyes all about as he listened. Legions of small tents were erected all across the area, trailing on to the academy's collapsed entrance. Untold numbers of students ducked between them, carefully maneuvering around all manner of scattered debris. A set of larger tents stood on the far end of the camp; he assumed them to be the kitchen and mess hall based on the number heading in and out. He imagined the camp must have been similar to the one established at the Balamb waterfront, albeit on a wider scale, and with far less hospitable weather.

"The government in Trabia has offered us all the support they can give," Dodonna continued. "After the dust settled, we gathered up all the wounded, and had as many as we could shuttled to the hospital in the city. We moved the rest to what's left of the gymnasium; it was the only building with much of a roof still intact. The number of deaths since then far outweighs the amount who've recovered. Rather than working to rebuild our home, we've been spending most days digging fresh graves to add to our ever growing cemetery."

"We'll take aboard as many wounded as we can, and set them up in our infirmary," Xu promised. "As for the rest of your student body, I'll have to speak with Headmaster Cid. It's highly unlikely we'd be able to bring along everyone here."

"I wouldn't dream of imposing on you so much. In fact, my only request for the moment is that you stay here to assist us in the coming battle."

"Battle?" Squall repeated. He stopped in his tracks.

"Indeed," Dodonna sighed. "It is clear that the sorceress will not stop until she has conquered every last refuge of free civilization. Dollet has fallen, and it seems she has now turned her eyes to the north. My scout regiments have been keeping me informed of the army's movement. Galbadia Garden was last sighted moving due north on the continent. Once they've finished there, Trabia will surely be next. It may only be a matter of days. Perhaps a week. We stand as the last line of defense, but with our numbers so vastly decimated, there's simply no way we can fend them off on our own."

"Then it falls to us," Squall declared on the spot. "If we combine our forces, there may be a chance we can halt their advance. It's a long-shot, but it might be our only shot. If we fail, there won't be another army with the manpower or training to stand in their way, especially against the sorceress' power. We need to make sure it ends right here."

He looked to the headmaster for approval. His eyes had gone wide. Squall's own bulged a moment later as he realized just how brashly he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. He awkwardly turned to Xu at his side, and hastily stammered to correct his lapse in judgment.

"T-That is… if the commandant deems such action necessary."

"She does," she smirked back. "Apologies, sir. This is my protégé, the next in line for the rank of commandant. And it sounds like he's antsy to up and take over already."

Squall averted his eyes out of embarrassment. What had been causing him to put his foot in his mouth so frequently of late?

"Well, he's certainly got the right spirit," Dodonna continued with the teasing. "So, I take it that means you'll help us?"

"All decisions of this magnitude need to be cleared with Headmaster Cid first. But I'm just going to come right out and say, consider it done. Let's start by getting all the wounded we can aboard the Garden. We'll then begin formulating our battle plan, putting weapons in the hands of any Trabia students without them, and setting up a perimeter."

"Excellent!" the headmaster clapped his hands together. "I'll go tell the attendants in the gymnasium to get a move on it. If you could send some of your vehicles around to the side entrance, we can get started right away. Thank you so very much."

Dodonna took his leave with a gracious bow. He turned, and started across the ruined courtyard towards a derelict building in the distance. Squall swiveled his head back to Xu again; he felt the need to follow up on his apology.

"Sorry about that," he muttered. "I didn't mean to step on your toes."

"Tact is the last thing to be hung up on right now," she bluntly told him. "You were right when you said there's no other army that stands a chance, especially now that they've got their own regiment of GF users. This is going to be the fight of our lives, the one we've been training for all this time, even if we didn't know it. SeeD's last stand against the sorceress."

Only then did the true severity of the matter hit Squall. Should they succeed, they would in fact fulfill the very goal SeeD had been founded to carry out. History would remember their collective bravery for centuries to come, if not longer. Should they fail however, Edea's conquest would continue unabated. Her forces would spread across the globe in search of Ellone, until there was nowhere left for her to run. He still had no idea what the sorceress sought to achieve by exploiting her mysterious power, but knew nothing good could come of it.

"We all need to be sure we're prepared to face this head on," Xu continued. "Mentally and emotionally. Without any reservations or regrets. It's a leader's responsibility to make sure their subordinates are focused and ready for anything. So, 'Commandant' Leonhart… is there anyone in your immediate circle who might need that kind of support right now?"

Squall knew exactly what she'd been alluding to before she'd even popped the question.

"Permission to take my leave, Commandant?" he saluted.

"Granted. Make me proud."

Chapter Text

The sprawling graveyard stretched across the academy grounds, looking every bit as dilapidated as the ruined shell of Trabia Garden itself. Debris and shrapnel littered the scorched earth. What accounted for headstones were jagged chunks of concrete and metal scavenged from the devastation. The means of identification varied for each, some with a frayed cadet jacket draped over top, others with a weapon propped up against its side or laid on the soil. None were engraved with names or dates.

An eerie air permeated the grounds; the overcast sky shrouded all with a gloomy, drab ambiance. Save for the familiar five gathered together near one grave, nary a soul stood elsewhere on the premises. One among them was slumped to her knees; the whimsical, curled locks on either side of her hairdo were all that was left of her usual liveliness. Squall had known straight away he would find her there, grieving amid the hastily interred remains of those she'd left behind.

The other four all turned their heads in tandem at his approach. He promptly directed his own attention to Irvine; the six of them were finally together in one place. The sharpshooter casually brought his hand up, seeming to acknowledge that his promised explanation was well overdue. Although the present circumstances were less than ideal, Squall was determined to finally learn whatever it was he'd been keeping from them. That it supposedly related to Ellone was what especially piqued his interest.

His latest vision, the first in more than a month, had in some respects been a welcome surprise. More so than any of the six before it however, its contents had struck a chord with him. Laguna's meeting with the reclusive young woman had brought a strange sense of familiarity, a niggling feeling he simply couldn't place. Perhaps it was the former soldier's own emotions he'd been feeling, just as he was able to read his thoughts each time. And yet, even after he'd awoken, the mysterious longing had remained burning in his heart.

She… she looked kind of like…

"What's the word from the commandant?" Quistis asked.

He stalled in his thoughts, realizing he'd been too caught up in his daydreaming.

"Arrangements have been made to bring aboard all the wounded we can. Galbadia Garden has been sighted due northwest on the continent. It's expected to start moving this way any day now. We're to make our stand here, Balamb and Trabia together."

"So, this is it, huh?" Zell muttered. With both hands in his pockets, he absentmindedly kicked away at the dirt beneath his feet. "The big one. The fight we've been waiting our whole lives for."

"Looks that way," Squall agreed. He brought his hand to rest atop the nearest headstone. "The future of the world falls to us. We need to be sure we're all ready to face this head on, without any regrets. So… if there's anything anyone here needs to get off their chest, now's the time to do it."

The leading statement was as much directed to Irvine as Selphie. It was the downtrodden girl who responded first, however. She slowly rose from her knees, and turned towards Squall. Her eyes were puffy and red, the tears still yet to fully dry from either cheek.

"Count me in," she affirmed with a sniffle. She brought her arm up to wipe away the watery trails. "I've made my peace. It's time to finish this. I promise… I'm gonna pay them back tenfold for what they've done here."

"Damn straight," Zell said. He withdrew his hands from his pockets, and pounded his right fist into his left palm. "I don't care what it takes, I'm not stopping 'till I get my hands on Seifer. And when I do, I'm gonna give him every bit of what he's got coming to him."

Squall could tell he truly meant it. His only objection came from his own desire to put Seifer in his place, personally.

"Um," Rinoa spoke up; her eyes were lowered to the ground. "I know we might be in a little too deep to be saying this now, but… do we really have to fight?"

"Huh?" Zell whipped his head around to her. "Where the heck's this coming from, all of a sudden?"

"I just mean, isn't there some other way? So there doesn't have to be any more bloodshed like this?"

"I wish there was, Rinoa," Quistis sympathized. "But I just don't see how that's possible at this stage. You said it yourself, we're in too deep to back out now."

"But that doesn't mean we shouldn't at least try to figure something out, does it? What do you think, Squall?"

All eyes suddenly landed on him. Squall averted his own. There was nothing he could say that Quistis hadn't already. Moreover, it boggled his mind that such a suggestion was coming from Rinoa of all people; her determination to see Galbadia defeated in Timber had been tremendous.

Why this, all of a sudden? What does she expect from me?

"Squall, you have to voice your feelings, or else we won't understand."

"You… were part of a resistance movement," he began. "The only one in all of Timber that was still active, right? You and your comrades stuck to your guns, and kept up the fight, even when every other faction had gone underground. Because it was something you believed was worth fighting for. You hired SeeD to make that dream a reality. You risked your life that night to help us assassinate the sorceress. You came to me for training, because you were sick of being stuck on the sidelines. And now you're saying all this? What's happened to you?"

She was evidently unprepared for the rebuttal. She turned away, casting her eyes across the gravestones.

"I guess… I'm just scared," she admitted with a quiver in her voice. "These past… almost six weeks I've known you all, you've become like a family to me. I really mean that. I don't know what I'd do if something horrible happened to any of you. I've only made it this far because I believed that as long as I stuck with you guys, things would turn out alright. But now… standing here, in the middle of all this… all these poor students who had their lives snuffed out for no reason…"

She trailed off before coming to her point, though Squall could easily guess what it was. Every one of those buried in the earth beneath their feet had been friends or family to some person or another, and even one standing among them right now. Having witnessed Selphie's own grief at losing her friends, it was obvious Rinoa didn't want to risk losing them as well. He put one foot forward to start over to her, when Irvine swooped in ahead of him. He put his hand on her shoulder.

"We understand, Rinoa," he sought to comfort her; his tone was genuine, and once again rid of its usual twang. "It's scary to think someone you love might never come back, and that you'll be left all alone. Living with that much sadness and longing weighing you down every day is bound to screw anyone up. Especially if it's ever happened to you at a young age."

"My… my mom," she interrupted him; her voice was little more than a whimper. "When I was 5, she…"

"Your dad told us when we met him back in the city. I can't speak from experience, but I'm sure it's much worse when you know for sure that person's gone forever. I won't pretend to know just how painful that must have been. What I do know is that no matter who we've lost, or how, we all come up with our own ways to cope with it."

He removed his hand from her shoulder, and began to amble about the gathered five. He no longer appeared to be speaking to Rinoa in particular.

"Some of us turn bitter, and prone to lashing out at any kind of authority. Because we feel like we've been personally wronged by the world. Others try to hide themselves away, seeking refuge in isolation. Because they're afraid of being hurt so badly again."

The sharpshooter's blue eyes met Squall's at that moment; the stare seemed to pierce right through him to the very depths of his soul. There was clearly more weighing on his mind than giving Rinoa a pep-talk.

"As for me, I came up with my own way to deal with it too, by the time I got put in Galbadia Garden. I started putting on a front. I started making myself out to be something I knew deep down I wasn't: the slick show-off, the kid who thought he was too cool for school, and who everyone wanted to be around. Because they all knew he could back up whatever he dished out. And it worked. The ladies loved me. The rest of the sharpshooter division respected me. And even the guys around campus who couldn't stand my guts, I could tell they were just jealous of how well I had it made. I played the part so convincingly, for so long, that even I started believing it after a while."

"We get it, you thought you were hot shit," Zell grumbled. "Is there a point coming any time soon?"

"Yeah, and it's this: even with all that fame and notoriety, I was still a lonely, miserable wreck underneath it all. Because I knew I was living a lie. I thought I could fill the hole in my heart by surrounding myself with as many people as possible. But I eventually realized it doesn't work that way. All the fawning girls, my fellow sharpshooters, the jealous pricks who'd flash me dirty looks in the halls, none of them knew the 'real' me. All they ever saw was this facade I'd worked so hard to build up. Having 'friends' doesn't mean a whole lot when it's all predicated on a lie, am I right?"

Squall listened to Irvine's confession in breathless silence. He could hardly believe just how uncharacteristically vulnerable he'd made himself to them. This was no longer the laid-back, easygoing cowboy he'd met at Galbadia Garden. And yet, the sincerity in his voice convinced him it wasn't an act.

"But you know… sometimes miracles do happen, after all," he smiled. "Sometimes, against all odds, things do work out in the end, and life hands you another chance at happiness out of the blue. I got mine handed to me that day I strolled on into Headmaster Martine's office, and saw you all standing there. It was a sign that I had to learn to put aside the fake me, to come to terms with myself after so long. But, it sure wasn't easy to just open up to you guys right off the bat. Especially when you four also seemed a bit screwy in the head."

With Irvine's back presently turned to Rinoa, his sweeping finger indicated he meant the four SeeDs.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?!" Zell blew his top.

"How so?" Quistis furrowed her brow. "And what was so special about meeting us? I'm not following your train of thought here."

"That's because I haven't started explaining it yet," Irvine clarified. With a cheeky grin, he stepped out of the circle, and spun back around to face all of them as a collective. "Gather round everyone, it's story time! And you'd all better listen good, because this has been a long time coming."

It had better be worth all the build-up…

"Once upon a time… I must have been about 4, or so… I was in a little orphanage with a bunch of other kids. It was just a few years after the Sorceress War ended, so I guess there was no helping it. I never knew my parents, or where I'd been brought up before being taken in there. Anyway, that's where I lived for at least a couple years. And out of all the kids there, one was very special to me. A girl, cute as a button, and bursting with energy. It always made me so happy just being around her…"

The wooden door creaked open with a forceful push from Irvine. He re-flattened his feet from his tip-toes, and ducked his head in to survey the kitchen. The dimness inside was broken only by the daylight streaming through the window over the sink. Matron was nowhere in sight. Satisfied, he stepped on through, and shut the door, putting the cackling of the other children in the common area behind him.

He bolted for the first cupboard running along the underside of the counter, and swung it open. There was nothing inside but an assortment of pots and pans. He closed it just as quickly, and continued along the row. He needed to be quick; the kitchen was strictly off-limits without supervision. The punishment he'd face if caught wasn't enough to keep him away, however. Neither did he expect it would be for the girl he was seeking. The moment he pulled open the final cupboard, his suspicions were confirmed.

"Hyaa!"

She shot out, and tackled him onto the hard stone floor. He groaned as they tumbled, coming to a rest once she'd pinned him down by both wrists.

"You're fast!" she smiled. Her pretty green eyes beamed with excitement, even in the dimly-lit kitchen.

"'Cause you're too easy to find, Sefie," he said, fighting to wriggle free. She finally let go, and lifted herself aside.

"Your turn, Irvy! And no picking the same spot like last time! You promised!"

"Okay," he moaned; she'd guessed exactly what he'd been planning. "And you hafta promise you won't hide up in the lighthouse anymore. You know I'm scared of heights!"

"Fine," she pouted; she clearly hadn't planned on sticking to her word either. "But next time I'm picking somewhere really hard! So hard you'll probly quit!"

"No way," he smiled, taking her dainty hand in his. "I don't care where you hide. I'm never ever gonna stop looking for you."

That was the one promise he intended to keep.

"That… that orphanage," Selphie stammered; her face had gone pale and wide-eyed. "It was a big stone building… by the ocean… with a lighthouse…"

"And right next to a huge field of flowers," Quistis cut in. Her own expression looked no less stunned than the girl's. "Right?"

"Bingo," Irvine smiled back. "It's about time. I was a little worried the memories would be completely gone by this point."

Squall's pursed lips parted, leaving his mouth hanging agape. That he'd personally borne witness to such a place through Laguna's eyes, exactly as described, was shocking enough. That Irvine spoke of it now, only to be corroborated by not just one, but two of the others, was flabbergasting.

What the hell's going on?!

"Hold up!" Zell jumped in. "What're you three talking about? Are you saying you all knew each other as kids?"

"I… I don't remember much," Quistis muttered. She shut her eyes in concentration. "But I do vaguely recall living in a house like that, with many other kids. It was on a small island, somewhere… with a huge flower garden out front, and a lighthouse in the back, down on the beach. And I remember… fireworks! That's right, we all snuck out and set off fireworks one night, didn't we?"

Quistis' heart leapt into her throat as she saw sparks fly from the fuse. Irvine jerked away from the ignited firecracker, dropped the lit match onto the sand, and ran for cover. The flickering popped out from the long shadow cast by the lighthouse. It hissed all the while as it traced its way along the wick. Finally, the rocket zoomed upward at tremendous speed, soaring high above all else on the shoreline. She watched breathlessly as it climbed towards the stars, and burst with a raucous bang. Their cheers followed as emerald green light washed over the beach.

"Awesome!" Irvine yelped from nearby.

"C'mon, c'mon!" Selphie squealed impatiently. "Let's do it again!"

Another of the boys had already stuck the next rocket into the sand. With a stroke against the box in his hand, the match sprang to life.

"I'm telling!"

The shriek came from up on the overlooking hill. Quistis turned to peer back up along the sandy trail to the house. A small blonde-haired boy came tearing down at top speed, waving his arms frantically.

"You're all gonna get in so much trouble!" he followed up.

She opened her mouth to respond, when the rocket's lift-off stole her attention again. The second firework followed almost the same path as the first. It exploded high in the sky with a burst of crimson red. Despite its volume, the meddling tattle-tale kept racing to the bottom as fast as he could.

"You stole those!" he yelled as he slowed to meet them. "Matron's gonna be so mad!"

"Crybaby Zell!" the boy who'd lit the second firework mocked him. "Go back to bed!"

"Shut up, Seifer!" he mewled back. Appropriately, he seemed to be on the verge of tears.

Quistis looked back to the trail, visually tracing its length up to the orphanage. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw a figure in a dark dress come frantically running down to the shore. True to Zell's warning, they would all be in for the most serious punishment they'd ever been served. As Matron's own frenzied wailing reached her ears, she gazed up again to the peak of the hill. Only then did she notice the silent onlooker staring down at them.

The boy stayed fixed to the spot. He'd been invited to join them, but apparently wanted no part of it. Such had been the norm for him lately; any trace of happiness she'd seen before had left along with Sis just a couple of months ago. Quistis truly felt sorry for him. And even as Matron's shrill voice drowned out all else around her, she vowed she would do whatever she could to one day bring that smile out of him again.

"That's ridiculous!" Zell roared, utterly shattering the graveyard's solemnity. "I was never in an orphanage! I've got my ma in Balamb, remember?"

"Obviously, you were adopted," Irvine calmly shot him down. "You were there, same as the rest of us. She remembers it, and so did I, from the moment I walked into Martine's office that day."

"This is bullshit! I was not adopted! And you expect me to believe Seifer was there, too?! You think I wouldn't remember growing up in the same house as him?!"

"It's true," Squall spoke up.

Ludicrous as the entire account ought to have been, there was an undeniable, poignant resonance underneath it all. Even without Quistis and Selphie's testimonies, traces of it were still ingrained in his own memory, foggy and disjointed though they were. He couldn't ignore it any longer.

"What are you saying?!" Zell gaped at him. "Don't tell me you actually buy this crap!"

"It's not a question of whether I believe it. There are too many things… little things that have been stuck in the back of my mind for so long… and in my dreams. It all sounds impossible, but… I remember it, too. We were together there. All of us, except Rinoa."

"You mean…?" the girl egged him on to finish his thoughts.

"Yeah… I was there, too."

"You bet," Irvine confirmed for him. "The gloomy little outsider, who never wanted anything to do with the rest of us. Always waiting for 'Sis' to come back, right?"

His words stabbed through Squall's heart like the icicle he'd taken through his shoulder. His mouth hung open. His mind had ground to a complete halt in an instant. It was then, in that long, agonizing moment of sudden emotional shock, that the memories long buried beneath 13 years of pent up sadness came roaring back all at once.

The boy carefully peeked his head around the doorframe to the sleeping quarters. Despite it being midday, a group of 6 children stood or sat in a roughly formed circle to one side. They were the eldest orphans in the house, all several years older than him. He knew virtually nothing about them; with the age gap came an unspoken rule that their clique and his not intermingle outside of meals and curfew. The girl currently seated on her bed was the one exception.

Besides Matron, she was the mediator between both groups of children, and the boy's dearest confidant. She was wearing a blue button-up dress. Her short brown hair perfectly matched her beautiful eyes. And yet her face, usually so angelic, looked strangely concerned. Eager to find out what was going on, he lowered himself to his hands and knees, and slowly crawled through the door. He hid himself beside the nearest bed, ducked under, and started making his way forward as quietly as he could.

"Don't worry so much!" one of the boys said. "It's gonna be one big adventure for all of us!"

"Let's just hope none of us get seasick," another chimed in.

"I don't know," a third muttered. "I've never been on a boat before."

"So, you were born on this island?"

"You know what I mean!"

The conversation continued as the boy slunk his way underneath the row of beds. His little heart pounded in his chest all the while, feeling like it might be on the verge of rupturing.

"I just don't understand," Sis finally spoke. "Why do we all have to go?"

"Don't tell me you actually wanna stay?" the first boy asked. "We've been stuck here our whole lives. This is our chance to finally get out and see the world."

"Yeah, it's gonna be great! So, let's make sure we're all packed up for tonight, and… hey!"

A set of hurried footsteps stomped across the floorboards. The boy froze in his tracks. Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed him by the ankles, and yanked him out from under the bed. He screamed as he was hoisted up and held upside down by the elder boy. His shirt followed gravity's course, falling over top his head; it blocked out his sight as he was carried away.

"Aw, shut up, ya little runt!" his captor berated him. He could hear the others chuckling from nearby.

At last, he was dropped on the floor with a hard thud. He quickly pulled his shirt back down, and sat up. He'd been deposited back outside the door. The boy who'd picked him up looked down on him derisively from within the frame. Through the gap in his legs, his eyes briefly met with Sis'; her face looked even more distraught than before.

"Mind your own business, brat!" the older boy scolded him. He slammed the door shut the next moment, leaving him sitting alone in the hallway with tears brimming in his eyes.

That was the last time I ever saw her…

"Hold on… I remember her!" Selphie jumped back into the conversation. "She was a bit older than all of us, wasn't she?"

"That's right," Quistis pensively hummed. "We all used to call her 'Sis', because she was like our big sister around the orphanage. That, and I remember her real name was a bit hard for a lot of us to say properly. What was it again? Something like… 'Ellen'? Or 'Eileen', maybe?"

"Close, but not quite," Irvine smiled knowingly. "Anyone else want to give it a shot?"

His focused stare betrayed exactly who the question was posed to. If nothing else, he was right to expect it of Squall. He ought to have known her name better than any of them. He did, and as he sucked in a breath to prepare himself, he felt a palpable sense of shame wash over him.

"Ellone," he finally exhaled.

"We have a winner," Irvine announced.

"You mean that girl the sorceress is looking for?!" Zell blurted out in disbelief.

"Ellone," Quistis muttered. "That name… wasn't that the girl those SeeDs on the boat came to evacuate from the Garden?"

"Yeah, I think it was!" Rinoa chipped in; being the odd one out, she was clearly happy to get a word in. "I remember Cid's call over the intercom for her. I wonder why she's so important in all this, though. Why would the sorceress be after her?"

"I… don't know," Squall lied; with so many new revelations to dissect, he didn't wish to add another to the growing pile.

"Huh?" Zell raised an eyebrow in his direction. "I thought you said it was because she had some-"

"It doesn't matter!" he cut him off. He turned his focus back to Irvine. "All I want to know right now is why you remember all of this so well, but none of us did. I've known Seifer and Quistis since we were all in primary education, and none of this has ever crossed my mind until now."

"That is strange," Quistis agreed. She began to pace about the nearby headstones. "I know I got sent off to Balamb when I was 10… things weren't working out so well between me and my new family, if I recall. And I do remember you and Seifer caught my interest early on. He was the kid who always needed to be the center of attention, and you'd just keep to yourself, ignoring him and everyone else around. So, he'd always try to pick fights with you, and after a while, you'd snap and try to fight back. And I was the one who usually had to break you two up, like I was your older sister, or…"

She paused, and stopped in her tracks. She remained still for several seconds before turning back to Squall.

"You know… looking back, I never really understood why it was so important to me. But… maybe it's because I was trying to take Sis'… to take Ellone's place. I definitely didn't remember anything about us growing up together until just now, but… I think… back then, I must have. I can't believe it's taken me so long to realize it…"

"Uh, sorry to interrupt," Zell cut in. "But, that still doesn't answer the question. Let's just say that all this about us living together at an orphanage is true. I'm not saying I suddenly remember it or anything, but for the sake of the argument… how is it that all of us except this guy just up and forgot?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out for more than a month now," Irvine explained. "I've thought it over, long and hard, and I might just have the answer. If you're interested in hearing it."

"We are," Squall spoke for the others.

Baffling as it all was, he was now positive that everything Irvine had told them was true. The sharpshooter turned to him, his eyes steely and focused, and after a moment's hesitation, began.

"That night in the city… when she brainwashed the rest of the crowd, you used the energy from your Guardian Force to ward off her magic, so we didn't end up like them, right?"

"Yeah," Squall affirmed. He didn't understand the correlation. "It was the only thing I could think of. I wasn't even sure it would work."

"I remember when you grabbed me by the neck, and started channeling the energy… there was this sudden rush that went through my head, like it was seeping directly into my mind. Is that how it usually feels whenever you use one of those things?"

"More or less."

"Well, call me crazy, but I feel like pumping that kind of energy into your brain day in and day out might not be the healthiest thing. Who knows what kind of damage it could do up there after a long enough time?"

"You're telling me it's the GF spheres that have been messing with our memories?!" Zell sputtered in disbelief.

"That can't be right," Quistis said. Her eyes were now trained to her own silver sphere in her hand. "There's no way Headmaster Cid would allow students to be trained with these if they could cause a side-effect like that."

"But it wasn't him who gave the go-ahead on GFs in the first place, remember?" Squall reminded her.

The headmaster had already told them it had been through Norg that Balamb Garden had secured the technology from Odine Industries. It would have been easy enough for him and his administration to keep any potential side-effects under wraps. Provided Irvine's hunch was on the mark, Seifer's accusation that Cid had 'brainwashed' the student body made far more sense.

"Think about it," the sharpshooter said. "I've never used one of those before, and my memory's perfectly fine."

"And Seifer's barely ever used his," Squall added. "I'm positive he remembers everything, too."

"He does," Quistis spoke softly. "When we had our standoff at the station in Timber… when he told me I was trying too hard to be like a caretaker to you and him… an 'imitation', he said… it all makes sense now. He must have realized I was still trying to be like Ellone to you both, even when I'd completely forgotten."

"This is the first time I'm hearing about this," Irvine said to her. "But… I don't think that's quite what he meant."

"I still don't buy it," Zell interrupted again. "I think we're forgetting someone here. What about you, Selphie? You just transferred to Balamb this year, right? You'd never used a GF before, so how come-"

"Hold it right there, Zell," Squall shushed him before he could finish. "There's something else we need to clear up, right now."

The petite transfer student in question, who'd been silent for a while now, jerked upright. As Squall took several steps closer, her eyes began to widen. He could tell she already knew exactly what he was about to ask.

"Selphie… I want the truth. How long have you really had that GF for? Where did you get it? And why does it have the Galbadian crest on it?"

Her eyes darted every which way between him and the others; even without turning around, Squall could imagine how shocked they all were. A long pause ensued. She looked to be weighing each and every option, until at last she flashed him an embarrassed look.

"So… you did see," she bashfully grimaced. "That day in the prison, right? I had a feeling you did, but since you never said anything-"

"Just tell me," he sternly reiterated; he'd waited too long for an answer to let her start rambling.

Selphie rummaged through the pocket on her uniform's right fore. She withdrew the sphere, holding it out for all to see. Its bronze casing was just as Squall remembered. It soon gave way to the black Galbadian insignia as she rotated it around with her fingers.

"The fuck?!" Zell roared in awe. The rest of the group fell in just as quickly, each appearing no less stunned by what they were seeing.

"Sorry for keeping it a secret," she apologized. "I was afraid I'd be kicked out of the Garden if anyone found out. But now that it's out in the open, I'll just have to come clean. I did get a normal one like everyone else when I transferred to Balamb. It's been sitting in a drawer in my room ever since. As for this one… I've had it for about 5 years now. It was a gift from… my dad."

"Your dad?" Rinoa repeated, obviously confused.

"Well, adoptive dad, I guess. It's strange… somewhere along the line, I must have forgot about that, too. I don't remember a whole lot before he and my mom decided to move to Trabia with me. I think I was 11, then. We had it pretty well off, nothing extravagant, but it was nice and cozy with just the 3 of us for a little while. And then they decided to enroll me here in the Garden. Believe it or not, I really resented living here at first. It felt like they just dumped me here because they didn't want me around the house anymore. And I guess… maybe it also reminded me of being back at the orphanage. I know now they really just wanted the best for me, but… it was still really hard."

"Are we going to hear about the GF soon?" Squall hinted.

"I'm getting there!" she heatedly assured him. "So, anyway, I still kept in touch with my parents, and got to see them again for the summer, and my 12th birthday. But then a little while after that… my mom came down with a really nasty illness. She was bedridden for weeks, and eventually passed away from it. It was probably the saddest time of my life up to that point. After the funeral, I decided I was going to shape up, and do my best to make her proud. I straight-up told my dad I was going to start studying and training like I never had before, so I could one day transfer to Balamb, and become a SeeD. I meant it. And little by little, I started to warm to this place.

"Then, a few months later, my dad came here to visit me, which was a first. He told me he'd gotten back in touch with an old colleague of his from when we used to live in Galbadia, and that he was going on a trip to meet with him for a while. He said he couldn't tell me where he was going, or for how long, but that he'd keep writing to me for as long as he was away. I didn't think anything of it then. In hindsight, I wish I would have kept pestering him to tell me. Another couple months go by, and I get a package delivered to my dorm room. A big box, with no return address. I open it up, and it's filled with tons of seashells, of all different shapes and sizes, and a note from my dad. One of them was a big conch shell with a hole bored into its side. I took a look, and… well, this is what was in it."

"You can't be serious," Quistis looked her up and down skeptically.

Squall had no idea what to make of the story. There was enough detail and genuine passion in her retelling for it to sound convincing, and yet it was so nonsensical he could hardly believe it himself.

"It sounds crazy, I know, but it's true!" Selphie insisted. She pocketed the sphere again. "I swear. Do you really think I've got any love for Galbadia after what they've done to my home?!"

"I believe it," Zell stepped up for her. "What I'm still trying to wrap my head around is how Galbadia managed to make a GF!"

"You've never asked your dad about this?" Squall followed up; he would play along to see if he could find any holes in her story.

"I… never got the chance," Selphie quietly muttered. She turned her eyes away from him. "He never came back. That package… was the last thing I've gotten from him in 5 years. Even now, I still have no idea whether he's alive or not… and…"

The tears that began spilling down her cheeks were proof enough it wasn't an act. Momentarily at a loss for what he should say next, he was forcefully pushed aside by Irvine the next moment. He swiftly regained his balance as the sharpshooter wrapped Selphie in a tight hug. The girl's own arms encircled him in turn. She buried her head in his chest as she continued to sob.

"It's alright, Selphie," he consoled her. "We all believe you, and we're sorry for making you bring up something so painful. Right, everyone?"

Zell and Rinoa gave their condolences, followed by Quistis. After a short pause, Squall gave his own; for all his suspicion, she'd never shown anything close to a malicious streak.

"There, you see? And besides… if I were a betting man, I'd put my money on your dad still being out there, somewhere, and that you'll meet him again, someday."

"What… what makes you think that?" Selphie sniffled as she withdrew from his arms.

"It's just like I said before: sometimes, miracles do happen. And I have a good feeling we've got fate on our side. It managed to bring all of us back together, against all odds, right? So, what's one more?"

Squall stifled the urge to scoff at Irvine's optimism; as much as he wanted to, Selphie's emotional well-being was the reason he'd come to the cemetery to begin with. The reassurance seemed to lift her spirits. Before he knew it, she'd roped the sharpshooter into another embrace, burying her tear-soaked face into his uniform once again.

"Geez, I feel like Matron all of a sudden," he joked as he put his arms back around her.

"Holy shit!" Zell suddenly exclaimed. "Now there's a name I haven't heard in forever!"

"I thought you didn't remember being in an orphanage?" Quistis cheekily retorted.

"Well… the more we keep going on about it, the more it starts coming together."

"What do you all remember about her?" Irvine asked as he and Selphie released from their second hug.

"She was pretty much always dressed in black," Zell recalled.

"Yes," Quistis agreed. "Long dark hair, very kind and gentle… I really did admire her."

Squall recalled her just as well, and even more so considering his most recent dream courtesy of Ellone. Regardless of his history with her, which in turn shed new light on her selecting him to receive these visions, he'd seen Matron's beautiful features firsthand through Laguna's eyes. There had been a reason for that pang of familiarity after all.

"Anything else?" Irvine continued fishing among them. "A name, maybe? A face? Anyone you know that she might remind you of?"

"Let's see," Selphie hummed. "Gosh, it's been so long, I can barely even picture her face anymore."

"Sorry, can't remember her name or face that well," Zell gave up. "What're you getting at, anyway? What's so important about her-"

"No way…" Squall finally let out a hoarse exhale.

His eyes bulged as he overlaid the two mental images with one another. Her gentle green eyes were nothing like the eerie yellow glare. Neither were her smooth cheeks host to a horrifying network of veins. Absent those two attributes however, and a healthy dose of violet eye-shadow and lip gloss, the two were practically one and the same. Indeed, he now understood they were.

"Someone's figured it out," Irvine quipped.

"That's impossible. It has to be a coincidence."

"It's not. Matron's name was Edea Kramer. There's no getting around it. Matron is Sorceress Edea."

The silence was absolute. Not one of the six dared so much as breathe. Some glanced back and forth between each other in astonishment, while others simply stared into space, barely tethered to reality. Squall vacillated between both; he'd been thoroughly shaken to the core by this one revelation to shame all others. The same woman who'd raised him and his closest comrades as if they were her own children, and who had gone on to establish the very army he was now one step away from commanding, was the bloodthirsty tyrant they now fought against to protect the world's safety.

No wonder Irvine had thought him a monster for ordering him to pull the trigger. Of course, Seifer would be willing to swear his loyalty to her over Cid. And yet, even as the answers to these questions became clear, so many more were raised. Most pressing of all: what could have possibly turned their once benign Matron so far astray?

"I… don't get it," Zell finally broke the silence. "I just don't get it. Why would she…?"

"You're wondering why our Matron would take over an entire country?" Irvine finished for him. "Or fire missiles at the Gardens, and whatnot? Well, that's the one thing I don't have an answer for. Your guess is as good as mine. We probably wouldn't be able to figure it out even if we talked for hours."

"You're probably right," Squall agreed. "And… I'm sorry about back in Deling City."

"Don't worry about it. We know now why you didn't remember. What's done is done. Now's the time to start thinking about how we're going to face her when the army shows up here in a few days."

"Do you think… we should still keep using our GFs?" Quistis raised another important question. "Knowing what we do now?"

"Absolutely," Squall determined. "We won't stand a chance against her power without them."

"It's the only way I know how to fight," Rinoa chimed in. "And yes, I do intend to fight now."

"Maybe we should all keep our own diaries, just in case?" Selphie suggested. "That way we'll at least have everything written down."

"Yeah," Zell agreed. "But, you know, so what if I forget my childhood all over again? What's important to me now is having the power to protect my ma in Balamb. She's cared for me longer than Matron, and there's no way I'm gonna let her down!"

"Sounds like it's settled, then," Irvine took the reins of the conversation again. "As for me… I'm just going to stay true to who I am, and what I've always stood for. Even if our opponent is someone we once loved, her actions are indefensible. She needs to be stopped. This is our chance to make sure it ends, right here."

He outstretched his arm into the circle they'd formed, and glanced between them all. Rinoa stepped forward first, placing her own hand atop his. Zell followed a split-second later. Selphie and Quistis piled on in quick succession, leaving Squall as the only holdout. Having lived so much of his life isolated from the world, he'd never had any desire for camaraderie. It was there, standing amid many acres of those who'd gone to their own eternal solitude, that he at last recognized himself as part of something greater. He placed his hand atop those of his one and only true family. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt a true sense of belonging.

"For Balamb," Irvine spoke. "For Trabia. For Ellone. And for the Matron we once knew. Let's win this fight. Together."

Chapter Text

"You didn't remember anything?"

Headmaster Cid stared across his mahogany desk with wide eyes; his surprise didn't appear the slightest bit exaggerated. Xu stood a short ways off to the side, mulling over Squall's report.

"Not a thing, sir," he affirmed. "None of us, except Irvine."

"Unbelievable," the headmaster exhaled. He brought his right hand up to his temple in frustration. "All this time, I thought you remembered growing up under Edea's care. That was why I decided to group you, Zell, and Selphie together for the Timber mission. I believed that the bonds you three shared would foster the kind of teamwork needed for that assignment. It was the same for assigning Seifer to your squad for the field exam, with Quistis as your accompanying SeeD, no less. And as for Irvine… well, I wasn't prepared to let anyone else make the call that night."

"It's still hard for me to believe it all," Squall admitted. "I have vague memories of living at the orphanage with the others. And of Matron… er, your wife. But I don't remember ever seeing you there."

"You probably wouldn't have. I was away on business most of the time, even before Edea got the idea to turn that old house into an orphanage. As the number of children we took in grew over the years, I knew it would only be a matter of time before we'd need somewhere bigger to house them all. So, I began to juggle my career as a traveling salesman with hunting for a benefactor, to help me organize an academy for underprivileged youths. And you already know where that led."

"And what about Sis… I mean, Ellone? I remember she disappeared one day, along with a lot of the older kids around the orphanage. Were they…?"

"The children who became the first White SeeDs?" Cid answered his question. "Indeed. Although, Edea had yet to even broach the concept of SeeD to me at the time. She wrote to me one day, saying that there had been some sort of… 'incident' while I was away. She said that Ellone had demonstrated some kind of strange power, the likes of which even she'd never seen before. It would have been too dangerous to keep her there with the rest of you. There was just no telling what kind of harm she could have caused if she were ever to lose control.

"On top of that, Edea had learned that Esthar had been searching for her all her life, probably to exploit this power of hers for their own ends. The war had effectively been over for 4 years by then, but there was no guarantee that Sorceress Adel was truly gone. Construction of the Garden was well underway, and we'd already begun drafting up the initial enrollment list. So, we decided it would be best that I take her and the rest of the older children with me. That way, we could help get them settled into their new home well in advance. And as it turned out, it was the right move. Only a couple of months later, Edea wrote to me again. Apparently, another sorceress had shown up on the orphanage's doorstep out of the blue."

Squall kept his mouth shut as the headmaster continued his recounting. Even so, the mention of another sorceress at the orphanage sent a chill down his spine. He remembered her wicked face all too clearly, and the paralyzing fear of having been trapped between her and the mysterious swordsman. Matron had tried to assure him it had only been a dream. And yet now, by her own husband's admission, he was certain he'd in fact been witness to something so much more.

I don't remember anything after that… I must have passed out from the shock. What really happened back then?

"She was certain it hadn't been Adel," Cid went on. "Regardless, it was clear why she'd come. We then knew we'd have to be even more cautious to ensure Ellone's safety. That was when Edea first told me of her idea to re-purpose the school into a special military academy. To train SeeDs who could one day stand up to any sorceress who would seek out Ellone for her power. Of course, if this sorceress had managed to track her all the way to the orphanage, who was to say another couldn't just as easily follow the trail all the way to the Garden? We knew it would take time to build up an army from scratch. So, we decided it would be best not to keep her here for too long.

"I accompanied her and the White SeeDs to-be on the ship for the first couple of years, and left the Garden up to Norg's administration in my absence. Since then, they've lived from port to port on their own, always staying on the move to keep her location obscured. I returned to my station as headmaster, while Edea remained at the orphanage to raise whatever other children came her way. Those who weren't adopted before the age of 6 would be enrolled in the Garden. That has been our standard procedure for the last 12 years.

"Or at least, it was, until we received word of President Deling having allied himself with a sorceress named Edea. It came completely out of nowhere. I sent a detachment to the orphanage to check up on things, hoping it was just a coincidence. They returned to me, saying they'd found the place in shambles. And the children who'd been living there… well…"

He dared not finish, nor did he need to. Squall could easily guess what kind of nightmare the team had discovered. He lowered his eyes to the carpet beneath his feet, just as the headmaster's to his desktop.

"I made the decision to have Ellone brought back to the Garden after that. It seemed the safest place to keep her sheltered, should the army eventually be sent out to scour the seas for her. Of course, I never expected that missile strike to come when it did."

"I just don't understand," Squall finally interjected. His mind was positively swirling as the pieces of the elaborate puzzle slowly clicked together. "What could have caused her to take such a drastic turn?"

"That's the all-important question," Cid sighed. "I'm not sure if we'll ever know for certain. Based on what you've told me about your memory loss, however… perhaps there could be a connection there? That her own powers could have corrupted her mind in a similar way?"

"That… could be it," he muttered, glancing down at the sphere clipped to his belt. "If using one of these is what caused me to forget so much in just 3 years, then…"

"I'm still not convinced that's the reason for it," Xu finally spoke.

Squall turned his attention to her. She stood by the window, with her own sphere held in her hand.

"There's a pretty big hole in your logic: Tilmitt is a fresh transfer student who's barely begun her training with one. So, for your theory to be correct, it stands to reason she would have remembered everything as well."

Squall had yet to make any mention of Selphie's mysterious Galbadian GF. He knew doing so would only raise even more questions for which he had no answers. To suddenly bring up the matter now would be inconvenient at best, and actively distressing at worst. Both Balamb and Trabia Gardens stood on the cusp of battle. He couldn't afford to weigh down the chain of command with yet more, needless concern. There would be ample opportunity to mull over the bronze sphere once Edea's conquest had been stopped.

"It matters but little," Cid reoriented the conversation. "For the moment, we must focus our efforts on the fight to come. Headmaster Dodonna tells me it will only be a matter of days before the Galbadian forces arrive. We've taken aboard all the wounded we can, and begun shuttling those we cannot into the city. We've also started on getting weapons into the hands of all able-bodied students. We will begin formulating our battle plan tomorrow morning. I'll see you both for the briefing at 1100. Get some rest until then. Dismissed."

Squall saluted in tandem with Xu, and took his leave. He stepped back out into the command bridge; its elevated apex was devoid of any navigation crew in the early evening hours. It was then he finally exhaled. The sheer number of revelations he'd become privy to in just one day were exhausting to keep track of. For the second time in just over a month, the entire world had seemingly been flipped upside down.

"It's not necessarily that I don't believe you."

He spun back around to face Xu as she gingerly closed the door. Her eyes met his. Much to his surprise, her stare looked far less stern than those he was accustomed to.

"There are plenty of blank spots in my memory, too. It's strange… I've hardly ever stopped to think about it since I became commandant, but I don't really remember how I came to this Garden, or much of anything before I graduated. I guess you could just call it part of getting older, but… I should at least be able to recall something, shouldn't I?"

"I barely remembered anything about my past before Irvine spelled it all out for us," he reiterated. "But the fact that I do now means that the memories were never truly gone. Just buried, deep down. All it took was the right person to bring it all back to the surface."

"Yes," she pensively agreed, averting her eyes. "More than you know, even… regardless, I'd appreciate if you and your comrades would keep this talk of memory loss amongst yourselves for the time being. The last thing we want is to demoralize our troops. We'll need every advantage available to us if we're going to win this fight."

"I wouldn't have it any other way. Memories of the past are a small price to pay for the promise of a brighter future. But above all, it's the here and now that matters most. That's a lesson I owe to someone else."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Xu smiled. "Now I'm sure I picked the right guy."

"I can't believe you actually got him to go along with it!"

Rinoa stared down with amazement at the ring in her palm. It was engraved with a roaring lion's head, just as she'd seen it on Squall's hand. Selphie stood up out of her chair, and rounded the cafeteria table to see for herself. When they'd pulled Zell aside to ask for his help, Rinoa had still been skeptical he'd be able to convince Squall to part with it.

"How'd you pull it off?" Selphie inquired.

"I just asked him," Zell answered nonchalantly. He slid into the vacant third seat across from them. "I kinda expected him to put up more of a fight than he did. I guess he knew I wouldn't stop bugging him until he forked it over."

"It's the real deal, huh?" Rinoa muttered to herself.

She slipped the ring onto her own hand. It effortlessly slid past her second knuckle to where her finger met her palm, forcing her to spread the two on either side apart to accommodate its width.

"Way too big for me, though."

"Yeah, I figured that," Zell chuckled. "I just need to know by how much, and I'll be able to get a mold made that'll fit you. With all the prep for the big battle going on though, I'm probably not gonna get a chance until things settle down."

"Oh, there's no rush. I'll just hold onto it in the meantime."

Rinoa reached behind her neck with both hands, brushing away her voluminous black hair, and took hold of the slim chain necklace. She unfastened it at the back, and brought the two ends around. It was only then that she took full notice of the silver ring entwined through; throwing the necklace on each morning had become routine, to where she barely even paid it mind anymore. It wasn't anything extravagant, nor etched with any particular design like Squall's. Still, it had been a source of sentimentality ever since Seifer had given it to her a year ago. She remembered how elated she'd been to receive it. How things had changed. She slipped it off the chain, and carefully let Squall's slide off her finger to take its place. Satisfied, she re-fastened the necklace, and pocketed the silver band.

[Almost there. Just a little further…]

Rinoa abruptly halted in mid-motion as a strange sensation washed over her. It just as quickly faded.

"Man, you're playing with fire there," Zell quipped. "I'm just picturing the look on his face if he spots that."

"She's going to show him the new one anyway once you make it for her, right?" Selphie chimed in. "Besides, he'll probably be too busy to notice."

"It… it doesn't bother me," she insisted as she finished pocketing Seifer's ring. "I'll tell him it'll be his reward for winning the battle, or something. Speaking of which… are the two of you really prepared to take the fight to her if it comes down to it? With your history and all?"

"If that's what it's going to take," Zell solemnly affirmed. "It doesn't matter who she was to us before. What she's done is unforgivable. It's our duty as SeeDs to stop her, whatever the cost."

"Right behind you," Selphie agreed, hoisting up her brand new pair of nunchaku in support.

The twin bars were constructed of metal rather than wood. Two spiral streaks of dark and light blue traced both halves of the weapon from one end to the other. They were symmetrical, save for the differing designs at the head of each. One half bore a star, the other a crescent moon, both gold, and shimmering under the cafeteria's overhead lighting.

"Trabia Garden was my home… is my home. And it always will be. I'm more worried about you right now, Rinoa. Are you sure you really want to get involved in this?"

"I didn't start learning how to use this thing for no reason," she replied. She brought the silver sphere out of her pocket. "With all the help I've gotten from you and Squall, I think I've got what it takes to make it through."

"Just stick close to us," Zell spoke; his tone had become serious, making it sound like an official order. "We'll make sure nothing happens to you."

"Yeah!" Selphie exclaimed. "Nothing's gonna stop the power of love! Not while I'm around!"

Rinoa felt her face become red as a beet. She averted her eyes as the two SeeDs started chuckling. They landed on Squall's ring on the slender chain. Despite all their teasing, she truly hoped to form a more meaningful connection with him. Perhaps in turn, that would give her the drive to push forward against all adversity to come. So much had changed since their fateful meeting on the dance floor that night, when they'd locked eyes beneath the fading trail of a shooting star. They'd gone from a client and her mercenary, to a student and her teacher. And now, despite all the frustration she'd endured in her efforts to get him to open up, she longed for something more.

We'll get through this. I believe in us…

Tuesday, April 6th. The Bika Snowfield's lightly frosted plains glistened in the coming dawn. The sun had yet to creep over the horizon; all was shrouded in a muted dimness, offset only by the first glimmers of early morning, and the light from the Garden itself. The dark specter of Trabia Garden loomed no more than a mile away. Its refugee camp had been torn down over the prior two days, with roughly half the surviving student body brought aboard. The rest stood at the ready with a detachment of SeeDs in their freshly dug trenches, waiting for the signal to come.

As the hours ticked on, Squall was becoming increasingly anxious for whenever the enemy would arrive. Xu had just ascended to take his place atop the command deck with the navigation crew. All was deathly quiet among them as he passed her the digital binoculars; sleep had been scarce for everyone. He and Xu had taken routine lookout shifts, trading off duty every 6 hours for the last day. The two before had been spent organizing the troops into proper formation, and establishing the hidden ground regiment by the Trabia ruins commanded by Headmaster Dodonna. A few days' leeway was their only guarantee. Whether it would take another or several more for the battle to begin was at the enemy's discretion.

A niggling dread continued to nip away at Squall's better judgment. That Edea had once been his caretaker and closest confidant besides Ellone had inspired a newfound sentimentality in him. It was clear she'd gone past the point of no return. She needed to be held accountable for her heinous misdeeds. And yet, could he truly bring himself to cut her down if need be? He'd already made one attempt on her life over a month before with relative ease, naively unaware of the knowledge he possessed now. The unease brewing inside him was doubtless the same Irvine had felt that night.

We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. The sooner we end this, the better for everyone…

He made for the ladder leading down from the command deck. A hand abruptly seizing hold of his arm kept him in place.

"Heads up."

Squall spun back around at Xu's behest. She'd already extended the binoculars back to him with her other hand; her serious stare inclined him to take them without question. He raised them back to his eyes, and followed her pointing finger out the bay window. A golden shimmer had just come into focus in the distance; it caused his heart to sink even before he engaged the zoom function. The luminous flotation ring popped out against the mountain backdrop to the northeast, lighting up the crimson fortress above. Its trajectory indicated they had likely spotted Balamb Garden from afar as well. So long as their attention could be drawn from the ground team, the odds of a successful first strike were in their favor.

"So it begins," Squall sighed, turning back to Xu. She hurriedly strode across the platform to where the intercom system had been reinstated.

"Prepare for lift-off!" she ordered the navigation crew as she yanked the receiver from its slot. "But don't move forward until I give the order. Set top speed at 50% in case we need to take evasive action."

The surrounding SeeDs quickly set to work. Xu pressed the adjacent switch at her own console to sound the loudspeaker's 4-tone chime.

"Attention, all students and staff! This is Commandant Xu Adrastia speaking. Galbadia Garden has just been sighted due northeast of our position. We will be lifting off momentarily as we prepare to engage. All able-bodied combatants, please quickly and calmly proceed to your designated defense positions. All Balamb students with an ID number ending in 50, please assist the primary-level teaching staff and junior classmen with taking shelter in their respective panic rooms. Signal team, standby to fire in T-minus 2 minutes. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill."

Squall kept his eyes fixed out the window as she gave her orders. The floating fortress drew closer by the second; its stark red paint job burst to life as it crept out of the mountains' shadow and into the first rays of sunlight. With a sudden jolt, Balamb Garden suddenly began raising itself from the earth. Meanwhile, the ruined husk that was Trabia Garden stood quietly on the sidelines, prepared to play spectator. For perhaps the first time since their initial construction in Centra untold centuries before, the three academies had been gathered in one place, for the battle that would shape the course of history to come.

"Hold steady!" Xu ordered. She returned to Squall's side the next moment. "Any sign of their aerial mechs?"

"Not yet," he hummed. "They'll probably wait until they're closer to deploy."

"Keep your eyes peeled. With any luck, the ground regiment will be able to knock them out before they can get anyone into the air."

Squall remained vigilant. He kept the binoculars trained to the height of Galbadia Garden, sweeping them back and forth as it continued to inch closer. By his own estimation, the two floating fortresses would meet within a minute. And yet, there still came no sign of the mechs' deployment. With the battle to be fought in perpetual mobility, there was no other way of sending their troops aboard until both Gardens became grounded. The only reason he could think of for the delay was a plot to render Balamb Garden out of action from the get-go.

"They're turning!" Xu announced. "Begin steering to port, and make sure we're clear of the ground team's firing range!"

Lowering his gaze, Squall proceeded to take stock of the enemy Garden's outer hull as it pivoted to come along their right side. Only then, as Balamb Garden began to swerve opposite, did he notice the open hangar bay set into its side. He enhanced the binoculars' magnification, and felt his breath catch in his throat; the means by which they planned to deploy their first wave of troops became clear.

Row after row of sleek blue motorcycles stood at the ready. Each was equipped with a pair of machine guns strapped to the fore. A uniform series of metal ramps were erected at the lip of the hangar, breaking formation only for a lone elevated pedestal in the center. A blonde-haired man stood atop. He was clad in a familiar grey jacket, with an equally familiar blade held by his side. His steely blue eyes stared ahead with unmistakable blood-lust. They appeared to meet Squall's own for a brief moment, even from so far away.

"You're not going to like this," he ominously hinted to Xu. He lowered the binoculars, and held them out to her.

"Chances are."

He pointed out the window to the hangar bay to direct her vision. Moments later, her lips beneath the lenses curled into a scowl.

"Wonderful," she spat in disgust. "We'll just have to hope the advance guard are prepared to engage. The signal for Trabia should be going up any moment no-"

A red flare suddenly shot up from the front right section of the ringed outer courtyard, between the entrance and the infirmary. It climbed higher and higher, as if vying to outrace the sun before it could clear the mountains. On cue, there came more than a dozen simultaneous flashes from around the Trabia ruins. A barrage of anti-air rockets shot from the trenches. Their intertwining smoke trails raced upward towards Galbadia Garden's far side, just as according to plan. Although it wouldn't halt the motorcyclists' imminent deployment, the damage would be sure to send the enemy forces scrambling.

By the time the rockets had cleared roughly half the distance, Squall noticed yet another luminescence gathering in the intervening space. At first it looked to be a trick of the morning light. Before long however, it began coalescing into a mass of energy hovering beside Galbadia Garden. He'd seen a Guardian Force summoned enough times to know what was happening, yet could hardly believe the size; the radiant silhouette had swelled to nearly five times Squall's fire demon. When at last the light dissipated, the creature was no less awe-inspiring.

The gargantuan phoenix let out a raucous screech; it was audible from afar, even through the reinforced glass window. Its striking red and orange feathers were already brilliant before a coat of billowing flames enveloped its entire body. With a mighty beat of its wings, the fiery bird soared ahead to meet the missiles in mid-flight. Each impacted on its body in rapid succession, producing only a sputter of flames as opposed to a proper explosion. With each rocket, the surrounding inferno grew more and more potent, fanning the flames' intensity. It didn't slow as it careened straight for the Trabia ruins, appearing as if it were a meteor falling from the sky, set to wreak devastation on the land. With a tremendous roar, so it was done.

The monstrous explosion lit up the Bika Snowfields. What little of the academy grounds had remained standing instantly crumbled, fully engulfed by the raging wildfire. There came no more rockets, nor could Squall deduce there were any survivors whatsoever. There was a chance the trenches had given them sufficient cover from the firebombing, unlikely though it was. Regardless, the fact remained that the enemy had somehow managed to predict, and counteract their sneak attack. And what's more, with a Guardian Force more powerful than any Squall had ever seen.

"How… how did they know?" he stammered.

He darted his eyes around the command deck. All, including the commandant, stood motionless at the sight of the blaze.

"I'm… I'm not sure," Xu finally spoke. "What matters is they did. There's nothing we can do about it. We need to get downstairs now, and assist with repelling those motorbikes. Navigation team, keep as much distance as you can between us and them. We can't afford to let any more of their troops come aboard. And keep an eye out for another summoning like that!"

The crew all saluted, and scrambled back to their positions. Squall turned again to the window for one last look. He squinted his eyes through the glass to the open hangar bay in the distance. With a forceful thrust of Seifer's gunblade to give the signal, the motorcycles sped forward all at once, and leapt from the metal ramps. Propelled by a set of turbo engines to their rears, they soared clear over the Garden's outer wall to reach the courtyard. Their plummet was slowed as yet more boosters attached to their undersides engaged. Spellcraft and gunfire erupted from below, heralding the second full-scale conflict Balamb Garden had played host to in just over a month.

"Squall!" Xu called to him from the ladder. "Let's move!"

He turned to follow her lead. All the while, he silently prayed that he and his comrades possessed the strength and fortitude they would need to survive.

Whatever happens this day, please just let us all make it through… I can't afford to lose them again…

Frenzied and confused murmuring filled the open quad. The monstrous explosion outside the Garden walls had instantly put everyone on edge. The ear-piercing shriek from just before had been enough to scare Rinoa straight; she'd turned her head to the sky with Selphie for fear of an incoming rogue missile. They'd caught wind of the plan to station a regiment of troops at the Trabia ruins, to execute a sneak attack. The explosion had come from much further away than Galbadia Garden looming high above, however.

"What's going on out there?"

"Nothing good," Selphie hummed in return, bringing up her new pair of nunchaku. "Come on, let's get into position."

"Right," Rinoa agreed. Together, they continued their jog over to the nearest contingent of SeeDs and cadets. "Zell's sure taking his sweet time, huh?"

"Yeah, don't know what that's about. Maybe he got held up or someth-"

"Heads up!" the commander at the front of the group belted. "Incoming bogies at two-o'-clock!"

Rinoa swiveled her head. High above, a platoon of airborne motorcycles were descending fast from the side of Galbadia Garden. They slowed in mid-air with the ignition of their underside boosters. Acting on instinct ingrained into her over weeks of rigorous training, she reached to her belt, and depressed the switches on her sphere. She worked at top speed to quickly draw in the energy seeping out from its casing. Within seconds, a translucent, light blue barrier flashed in front of her. SeeDs and cadets all around had likewise taken the same preemptive measure.

Here we go…

Weapons fire and all manner of elemental spellcraft shot up at the incoming soldiers. What blasts made their mark sent the falling motorcycles spiraling out of control, their drivers blown clean off their seats. Parachutes engaged one after another above the surviving bikes. Rinoa began drawing in the energy again, this time preparing to mold it into an offensive torrent of water. She felt the power rush through her right arm just as she'd practiced, and aimed for where a pair of bikes were set to land.

The water shot forth as if from a fire hose. It sprayed wildly across the divide to form a miniature stream. As the spinning tires of the two motorcycles touched down on it, what little balance they otherwise would have had upon landing was instantly wiped away. They spun out and tumbled on the spot. A smirk crept across Rinoa's face as she admired her handiwork, the first tangible fruits of her training.

"Nice one," Selphie nudged her from the side. "Just a few thousand more to go."

Holding her linked nunchaku before her in an X shape, she aimed for the puddle where the two motorcycles and their riders had fallen. In a flash, lightning surged through the twin metal beams, and shot out. The bikes were spared of any significant damage courtesy of their still spinning rubber tires. The soldiers had no such luxury; both roared in agony as they jerked with the electrical current.

Rinoa averted her eyes, and turned her focus to the rest of the quad at large. The SeeDs and cadets had scattered in the wake of the rest of the motorcycles having touched down. The machine guns fixed to their fronts roared to life, the bullets reflecting harmlessly off of the students' magical shielding. Regardless of their protection, all were quick to move out of the way of the oncoming vehicles.

As Squall had explained, the conjured barrier's capacity to deflect was not dependent on the velocity or kinetic energy of a projectile, but its mass. The term 'shield' was something of a misnomer, he'd said; it was actually a protective aura without any corporeal presence. The volume of physical matter it could keep out was proportional to the energy channeled into it. To deflect something with greater mass than a bullet, such as a blade, or more pertinently a vehicle, would require an exponentially large amount. It was a clear case of diminishing returns on investment. Hence, it was expected that operatives make use of as little as they could get away with so as to conserve energy.

Rinoa deftly maneuvered herself out of harms way, and set to work on the nearest motorcyclist. With another high pressure torrent, he was violently blown off his saddle, sending the bike skidding across the asphalt. She didn't stop to admire her handiwork again in the event another came hurtling towards her. So she progressed about the battlefield; she would scan for an opening, exploit it when it came, and stayed on her toes as best she could.

In an effort to keep clear of the congested center, she gradually worked her way towards the outer wall. And yet, as she turned back to survey the scene, it had already cleared significantly. Just as the students had broken off from their initial formation, so too had the Galbadians. Roughly half the motorcycles had sped away in either direction, en route to the dividing synthetic walkways separating the quad form the cafeteria and infirmary courtyards. It would fall to the rest of the outer guard to fend them off.

Darting her eyes all over, she turned her focus to another motorcyclist tearing straight for her. She took aim, but stopped as soon as she noticed a blonde streak zooming in. The T-Board intercepted the bike at its side. Its rider swiftly pummeled the soldier off his seat with a stone-cast gauntlet to the helmet. Rinoa leapt out of the motorcycle's path, and looked to the grinning SeeD atop the hovering metal slab.

"Sorry 'bout the hold up!" Zell called. He flashed her a thumbs-up with a wink.

She gave him a quick smile of thanks in return. She could have handled herself, but appreciated the assistance, regardless. And then the explosion came.

The roar was laced with the screeching of steel, forcing her to duck her head down and cover her ears. The accompanying tremor caused her feet to give way. She toppled to her knees. Disoriented, she risked a glance back over her shoulder. She squinted through the cloud of dust and falling debris. To her horror, the outer wall of the quad had been utterly blown apart as the side of Galbadia Garden came crashing through. The ground fractured into a network of jagged crags, snaking outward from the point of impact. It began crumbling away the next moment, chunk by massive chunk. Rinoa's heart fell into her stomach just as quickly.

She desperately forced herself back to her feet. Just ahead, Zell had already started racing towards her on his T-Board. She pumped her legs as hard as she could. After just 4 steps, her right foot met thin air. She screamed helplessly as solid ground gave out from under her, and she plummeted downward. What forward momentum she'd built up was her only hope for survival. Time seemed to slow, courtesy of the adrenaline rush. Her eyes were trained to the gargantuan mass of uprooted soil that was Balamb Garden's original foundation, now exposed from the dent in the outer wall.

She met the freshly formed cliff-side after a drop of roughly 20 feet, and thrust her arms out for whatever handhold she could find. Her nails dug into the coarse earth, the friction shredding the flesh on her fingers and palms. She grit her teeth and winced, refusing to let go. Still she continued to slide further down. No matter how hard she fought for her life, gravity refused to comply.

It was then, just as she'd prepared to resign herself to a horrific death on the frosty plains far below, that her right wrist snagged on what felt like a vine. Her fall was suddenly halted, leaving her dangling in mid-air dangerously close to the bottom of the Garden. She didn't dare breathe easy yet. She craned her neck up to see what she'd managed to grab hold of. A sturdy, thick black cable had been burrowed through the soil, with either end disappearing further inward. The material was the same standardized variety as any Rinoa had ever seen. It was a segment of one of the many underground HD transmission cables the Garden had used for long-distance communication. She quickly took hold of it with her left hand to better stabilize herself, and stared straight up.

Zell's terrified face looked down from on high. He frantically shouted down words she couldn't make out over the drone of the flotation ring below, now far too close for comfort. He ducked out of sight the next moment, presumably to find help. And so she was alone, literally dangling by a thread. With nothing else she could do, Rinoa finally let herself take a few deep breaths in and out through her nose. She needed to resist the urge to panic, lest she use up all of her arms' stamina. She kept her eyes perpetually trained to the sky, or anywhere but below.

A minute or so passed without any sign of Zell. After another, it suddenly became clear that her rescue would likely be more complicated to arrange. A swarm of airborne bogies soared in far overhead, propelled forward by large turbine engines affixed to their rears. In addition to the standard machine-gun fire, offensive spellcraft rained down on the Garden from several of the mechs. The sorceress' knights had finally entered the confrontation, effectively leveling the playing field between the two armies. Yet it was undeniably Galbadia who now held the advantage. Rinoa could do nothing but continue to dangle from her lifeline, just as Squall's ring from the chain around her neck.

I can't die… not like this… not now…

Chapter Text

Quistis shot out of the dormitory hall and into the atrium. She'd been rudely awakened by the commandant's announcement to prepare for battle, prompting her to quickly get dressed in her casual-wear, and grab her whip and GF sphere before setting out. It seemed she hadn't been the only one. Dozens, if not hundreds of Balamb and Trabia students dashed about the walkways, perfectly resembling the mad scramble when the Garden had collided with Fisherman's Horizon. Most among them bore their own respective arms. As there was no telling exactly when Galbadia Garden would arrive, there had been an academy-wide order for all able-bodied students to keep them on their person at all times.

She darted her eyes all around the grand hall, straining to peer through the pandemonium for an opening. As she turned to the central platform, she spotted Squall; the white fur-trim of his black leather jacket popped out from the crowd as he stepped off the elevator. Xu was right by his side. Together, they took off down the west-bound steps for the quad. Quistis briefly considered following after; she'd already been assigned to the frontlines in the outer courtyards, anyway. As she took her first step forward however, she was abruptly sent falling to her hands and knees.

The tremor was massive, shaking the whole of the vast atrium around her. All other students across its breadth were thrown off balance. Their frenzied muttering swelled to a single, united cry of alarm. The massive pool of water spanning the hall sloshed, lapping up at the edges and spilling over onto a portion of the walkway. Quistis kept herself hunched forward on all fours until the rumbling ceased, and only then dared raise her head. She could only guess as to what might have caused it. Perhaps it had been an explosion, or even a direct collision with Galbadia Garden outside. Whatever the case, she couldn't afford to dawdle. As she fought to raise herself, a hand suddenly took hold of her arm to assist.

"Upsy-daisy!"

She turned to meet Irvine's blue eyes staring back at her. A scoped rifle was slung over his shoulder, freshly allotted to him from the Garden armory. She opened her mouth to thank him, when another, smaller tremor preemptively cut her off. It had come from above.

They both turned their eyes upward to the intertwining network of walkways stemming from the central pillar. All seemed normal, save for yet more students scurrying about to their positions. And yet, her ears soon told her otherwise; the whirring of turbine engines became more prominent by the second, echoing down through the hall. Three aerial mechs suddenly zoomed out of one of the upper floors. They swerved around the pillar in a tightly knit formation as they descended into the fray.

"Time to go to work!" Irvine exclaimed. He immediately ducked down, and rushed for the side of the walkway, propping his back up against it for cover.

Machine gun fire burst to life from above. Just as quickly, the expanse below lit up with dozens of blue flashes. Quistis followed suit, erecting her own energy barrier, and falling into position with Irvine. The sharpshooter took aim through his scope, trailing one of the three mechs. None appeared to pay them any mind, instead concentrating their fire on the swathes of students racing about the atrium's center. Return fire and spellcraft whizzed up at them from all around. Blasts of fire, lightning, ice, and concentrated dark gravity magic filled the air, all deftly evaded by the pilots.

Suddenly, a rocket was loosed from one of the mechs as it swooped down; it exploded on the section of the outer ring just before the training center, sending clustered students and debris flying into the pool below. Quistis paid little mind to the devastation. She instead put her focus on the mech in question, channeling her own energy through her arm. She raised it, aimed just ahead of where she expected the mech to cross, and let the ice blast fly through the air. It soared ahead to intercept the trooper in mid-flight. To her dismay, it passed just over top, and impacted on the central pillar.

Fortunately, Irvine's aim did not falter. The shot from directly beside her caused Quistis to jolt in place. A moment later, her alarm turned to relief as one of the mech's turbines started smoking. It veered sharply off course, wobbling unsteadily. The pilot couldn't recover before a fireball shot up from further along the walkway. It hit the mech dead on with enough potency to finish the job. It burst into flames, its wreckage scattering and falling into the segment of water between the cafeteria and quad entrances.

"Nice shot," Quistis praised Irvine.

"Never said I was all talk," he quipped, not taking his eye from the scope.

He'd completely dropped the twangy accent ever since that day. Odd as it was to hear him suddenly speaking so differently, she appreciated that he was finally being his genuine self. So too was Squall, as of late. For how fragmented their team had been in Deling City, rediscovering their childhood bonds had brought them all so much closer together.

Realizing it was no time to be dawdling, she turned her focus back to the confrontation. The second of the three mechs went down a ways on the other side of the atrium, courtesy of a lightning blast. It ultimately made no difference; three more suddenly zoomed into the fray just as quickly from the upper halls. The Garden's outer hull had clearly been breached. With no viable means of boarding the enemy Garden, it was Edea's forces who now held the advantage. As if to further reinforce the point, spellcraft suddenly began raining down from two of the newly arrived mechs. For the second time since Norg's insurrection, SeeDs and cadets on opposing sides would engage in combat to the death.

Quistis kept low, ducking out from cover to fire off a spell only when a mech drew comfortably close. More SeeDs and cadets continued to spill out of the dorm entrance behind, forcing her to keep hugging the side to avoid being trampled. Irvine kept taking pot-shots beside her all the while. Eventually, another mech went down, this time much closer; it nosedived straight into the waters between the dorm and parking garage walkways. No matter the ground combatants' efforts however, the aerial troops were too quick and nimble to reliably land a hit on. Indeed, Quistis began to suspect they might be purely diversionary; there was no telling how the teams out in the courtyard were faring. The sudden collision could well have been a harbinger of so much more.

As she mulled over the possibility, another zooming anomaly popped into the corner of her vision. It leapt over the cafeteria walkway from the direction of the quad, landing on the other side of the water. From there, it continued tearing atop the surface of the pool, kicking up a constant spray in its wake. Quistis poked her head further out to see. A burst of lightning shot into the air courtesy of the SeeD riding on the back, very nearly clipping one of the mechs. The pair were obviously no friends of the invaders. But more pertinently, they were friends of her own.

She stepped out of cover, and frantically waved the T-Board down as it rounded the bend. Zell noticed her immediately. He began drifting as he drew closer, swerving to an abrupt stop just beside the walkway. Selphie stumbled in place behind him; she very nearly tumbled straight off and into the water, saved only by her tight grip around his waist.

"What's the situation like out there?!" Quistis yelled over the crossfire.

"No time to talk!" Zell shot her a deadly serious stare. "Rinoa's in trouble! She's hanging off the edge of the Garden! We've gotta get back there and pull her up, fast! Can we use your whip?!"

Her eyes bulged. She hadn't said a word against Rinoa's insistence to get involved in the fight; what had happened back in Deling City made it clear she'd never take no for an answer, regardless. Much to her dismay, things had gone just as badly now as then.

"Then take me with you!" she volunteered. "Selphie, you stay here and back Irvine up."

"Rodger! And here!"

Selphie hurriedly dismounted the board, and maneuvered herself over the walkway banister. Reaching over her back, she drew her new pair of nunchaku, and extended them to Quistis.

"For more length," she clarified. "Just get her out of there, whatever it takes."

Quistis accepted the hefty metal bars without a word; she didn't need to be told. She surmounted the banister to take Selphie's place, wedged the nunchaku under her arm, and held on tight to Zell's midriff. As the T-Board swiftly kicked back into motion, she silently prayed they would make it in time. This wasn't the same as before, when she'd resigned herself to let Rinoa die for the sake of the mission's success. The girl had grown too dear to her heart, and doubtless to Squall's from what she'd gleaned. She was no longer a liability, but a comrade who'd put in the effort to fight alongside them in their most desperate hour. And more than that, a friend.

"What the hell was that?!"

The shout was just one of many from all around Squall; most blurred together into an indistinguishable cacophony. He darted his head about the hall. Every nearby SeeD and cadet looked shaken from the tremor, both figuratively and literally. It had been immense, perhaps rivaling that of the missile bombardment they'd barely escaped. It had forced him to his knees. Others had toppled over on the spot, achingly pushing themselves up from the floor. Fittingly, Xu was the first to recover.

"Probably our first collision," she answered; her tone seemed to imply it was only a minor inconvenience. "Didn't think we'd make it through this without at least a couple. It makes no difference. As long as this place is still standing, we fight. Come on, people, move it!"

The rest of the students hurriedly picked themselves back up at her command, scurrying down the hall in either direction. Squall fell back into formation with the commandant as they stormed ahead towards the quad. As the open portal at the end drew closer, so too did the sounds of warfare. He could see colorful trails of spellcraft whizzing through the air well before they reached the descending steps. When they finally did, the cause of the tremor became clear.

A massive divot had been punched through the quad's exterior wall. Jagged blue and silver steel jutted out on either side, while the concrete crumbled to naught as it dropped off to meet thin air. Galbadia Garden hovered dangerously close by on the other side. It gradually gave way to the surrounding mountain scenery as their own Garden began taking evasive action.

What remained of the quad had devolved into a warzone. Motorcycles roared across the expanse, snaking between the Garden operatives on the ground. Other soldiers had dismounted, opting to engage in close quarters combat. Above, just beyond the Garden's shattered rim, a squadron of aerial mechs were steadily approaching. Galbadia had already managed to successfully deploy their forces via ground and air within minutes of the engagement. Worse still, they'd anticipated and foiled the sneak attack from the Trabia ruins. The advantage was unquestionably theirs.

"You take the left flank," Xu ordered him. She drew her short swords just as a blue protective barrier flashed in front of her. "And keep your eyes on those mechs. I've got a feeling those aren't just soldiers flying up there."

Squall nodded. The rationale was clear: deploy the cyclists as the first wave to swarm the courtyards and send them scrambling, followed by the knights to level the offensive playing field. There was no doubt at least some of those encroaching mechs were former students, sworn to whatever twisted version of reality Edea and Seifer had fed them. A missile suddenly shot from one. It soared straight ahead, blasting a hole in the Garden's upper levels. In an instant, the outer defense had been rendered incapable of stopping the enemy's advance into the academy proper; there was no chance of picking off all the mechs while they were still preoccupied with the motorcyclists.

They've done their homework, alright.

Drawing his gunblade and enacting his own energy barrier, he charged down the steps side-by-side with Xu. They broke from each other at the bottom, tearing across the quad in opposite directions. Squall tried his hardest to blot out the roar of gunfire and clashing of steel; nearly 2 months removed from the Dollet siege, he was already plenty accustomed to the sounds. The revving of motorcycle engines were a new factor however. One ran across his path as he circled the ongoing commotion in the center of the quad. Its machine guns blared, the rounds pinging harmlessly off his conjured shield.

As it drew close, he deftly sidestepped, and swung his blade horizontally through the air where he'd just been standing. With a pull of the trigger, it sliced clear through the miniature windshield and sunk deep into the soldier's chest. He was violently flung backwards from the saddle. The motorcycle itself toppled and skidded across the ground towards the inner edge of the quad. Taking a quick glance around, Squall saw it was far from the first littering the battlefield. Further, a number of mechs had begun their descent into the fray. Bullets pinged off the shields surrounding their pilots, indicating they were indeed more than mere infantryman.

He kept on the move; idling in one place for too long could easily spell disaster. More motorcycles whizzed by all around, few coming close enough to him as he hugged the inside. What knights had landed were quick to engage with spellcraft of their own. Eyeing them from afar, they appeared to be outfitted in uniforms of charcoal black with red linings on their sleeves and collars. They were eerily familiar to Squall. He'd seen them worn before by the Galbadia Garden student body, during his group's short stay there. He could only guess what had become of them since Edea's takeover. In the best case scenario, they'd been rounded up and moved to an internment camp. He'd never been the optimistic sort, however. For as much as he'd changed since Rinoa and the others had come into his life, it was perhaps the one thing he could expect to stay the same.

As the knights entered combat, the cyclists began to fan out even further, likely to give them enough space to use their GFs without the risk of collateral damage. The SeeDs and cadets armed with sabers and melee weapons charged in on the spot; closing the distance would naturally remove such a buffer. Meanwhile, a familiar T-Board swiftly rounded the confrontation's center. Zell and Selphie rode atop, making a beeline back towards the atrium. Squall couldn't guess why, and neither could he afford to be hung up on it. He kept making his way around the perimeter, dispatching of whatever enemy troops crossed his path. Another motorcyclist and two ground troops soon met their end on his blade.

Though some mechs had stayed airborne in the general vicinity, others had trailed off in either direction along the outer courtyards. Still more had made their way further inside the Garden, courtesy of the holes blasted in its side further up above. However grim the circumstances already were, Squall knew the worst was yet to come. And then, with a flash of light, it came.

Though far smaller than the light that had heralded the phoenix, the aura hovering in the air above the battleground was no less brilliant. When it finally dissipated, the creature to emerge was anything but. Two large bat-like wings sprouted from its lean humanoid form. Its bare musculature looked to be wrapped in grotesque red sinew, offset by black scales like armor covering its arms, shins, and horned head. Its hands and feet were sharpened talons, its mouth a toothy maw. A devilish tail extended from its hind, swaying with each beat of its wings to hold itself aloft.

Just what we needed…

With a roar, it swooped down into the confrontation. The knights immediately disengaged, backpedaling out of harm's way. The lingering SeeDs and cadets were no match; bodies flew every which way as the devil tore through the front line. Squall looked on in horror, knowing there was nothing he could do to put a stop to its rampage. It was too swift and nimble to hit with a fireball, and its ability to fly put it out of his own GF's range. His only hope would be to deduce which knight was the summoner, and put them out of commission. They would likely be positioned somewhere near the back of the regiment. The devil's wild movement made it impossible to tell, regardless.

Focused as he was on the aerial assailant, he'd barely even noticed the second light aura building far on the opposite end of the quad. He finally turned his attention to it just before the GF materialized. A familiar angelic woman soared full-speed ahead through the air. She intercepted the devil in mid swoop, raking one of her claws across its scaly exterior. It shrieked as the strike connected, knocking it off balance. With a mighty beat of its wings, the wicked creature recovered. The angel abruptly went on the offensive in the time it took to swivel back around. It dodged out of the way of the first few, before countering with several swipes of its own. One connected, tearing a clump of golden feathers from the woman's flowing garb. She let out a cry of her own, far more bestial than her alluring appearance would have suggested.

The devil seized the opportunity to put some distance between them; it soared ever higher, coming to a stable hover roughly 50 feet in the air. It raised one arm above its head. A ball of dark energy began forming in its palm, swelling exponentially at a rapid pace. Seeming to recognize its potency, the angel raised her own claw. A blinding coagulation of holy spellcraft materialized just as quickly. Squall knew better than to stand idly by. He'd seldom seen a single Guardian Force exert so much power, let alone two going head to head. There was no telling the sort of devastation about to be wrought.

He ran for whatever cover he could find. It came courtesy of a pair of toppled motorcycles on the rim. He ducked behind, lay himself flat as he could, and barely peeked his eyes over. Other Balamb and Galbadian forces appeared to have come to the same conclusion, all hastily spreading out as far as they could from the center. He peered across to the other side of the quad, squinting through the glare to where he'd first seen the angel spring from. There, a lone SeeD stood her ground on the edge, focus trained forward with her short swords crossed together. Still, he couldn't deduce the devil summoner's position; virtually all the knights had cleared the area, with none remaining stationary.

To his alarm, the motorcycles he'd taken cover behind started to slide away from him. It was a testament to the building gravity well's strength, that it could affect them even from so high up in the air. He kept himself prone on the ground, not daring to move in any closer. Finally, the devil cast down its payload. The quad rumbled as the dark sphere fell to the ground. Its gravitational pull intensified, prompting Squall to grab hold of whatever he could to keep from being sucked in. The angel did not falter. She hovered steadily in the face of the assault, and unleashed her counterattack.

The blast of holy energy met the dark ball in mid-air. They collided and stalled out, neither giving an inch. Squall looked on in awe. Prior to his and Quistis' battle with Norg's leviathan, he never could have imagined two GFs coming to blows with one another. Even that had been nothing compared to the intensity of this clash. The light valiantly beat the darkness back, both energies intertwining, and seeping out from the point of impact. Only once the glare finally became too bright did Squall finally turn his eyes away, burying them in the ground.

He covered his ears as the explosion came; it just barely drowned out the beating of his heart in his ears. After several tense seconds, he raised his head again. Contained to the airspace above, there was little immediate destruction apparent in the quad proper. Both sides had already cleared the center well in advance. Several already loose shards of metal fell from the giant divot in the outer wall, and what bodies and wreckage already littered the battleground had been displaced but slightly by the blast. Otherwise, little had changed. Even the two GFs remained hovering in mid-air, seemingly unscathed by the resulting draw. And then, just as suddenly, the angel faded back into pure light, beginning to dissipate from the world.

Pushing himself back up, Squall turned his attention to where Xu had been standing moments before. His eyes went wide at the sight. His jaw fell open. His mind stalled to a halt. In an instant, he became totally numb to all else around him. The commandant had fallen to her knees. Her short swords lay upon the ground. Both her hands now clutched at her chest, where another, longer blade protruded from her uniform. The knight pulled it out from behind. She slumped forward, barely managing to throw her arms back out to keep herself from toppling over face-first.

Shit!

Before her attacker could raise his sword again for the killing blow, another pair of SeeDs piled on him from the side, forcing him away. And so, the battle promptly resumed among those still standing. Squall kept low to the ground behind the downed motorcycles, refusing to take his eyes from Xu. She fought to raise herself, bringing one hand up to cover the hole in her chest. His mind screamed for him to race to her side; he couldn't simply stand by and let the commandant be taken out of commission when they needed her most. And yet, as the devil swooped back down from the sky for another tear through the Garden forces, he knew it would be in vain. The creature's movements were too rapid, its strength too overwhelming. He desperately needed to locate the conjurer.

He finally turned back around, setting his sights on the nearest Galbadian troop along the rim. As he re-engaged, his mind flew through every possibility at hyper speed. Sustaining a summon for such a lengthy period required intense concentration, the likes of which couldn't possibly be maintained on the battlefield; doing so was liable to leave them open, just as Xu. They wouldn't have been able to stray far from the general area prior to enacting the summon. At the same time, they would have needed to keep adequate distance from the confrontation to avoid becoming an easy target. They'd certainly stayed far enough away to avoid being drawn in by the devil's giant gravity well. And yet, only the fallen lay still on the ground.

In a flash of intuition, he suddenly realized his mistake. He struck down another foe, this time a knight wielding a javelin, and once the coast was relatively clear, turned his eyes to the air. It took mere moments to find what he was looking for. A lone mech hovered above a short way from his position; it idled there, tucked against the inside of the quad. Squall could hardly believe it. The ploy had been so simple, yet so devious, and ultimately effective. He channeled the energy through his arm, raised it, and loosed a fireball from his palm. It soared straight ahead through the air, scoring a direct hit. The mech instantly tumbled in mid-air. It began to smoke as it suddenly dropped in altitude, trailing to the ground.

Squall did not stick around to see if the airborne knight would recover. Neither did he care. All that concerned him now was the brilliant flash of light as the devil fizzled out of existence. With the way cleared, he took off across the battlefield. He battered away what resistance he met, and before long made his way to Xu's position. She'd rolled over onto her back, with one hand held atop the stab wound to stop the bleeding. That she hadn't made use of her GF's healing powers to suture it must have meant she couldn't; she'd poured so much into the angel's energy blast already. He sheathed his gunblade, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her out of the confrontation, ducking every which way to avoid flailing weapons and whizzing spellcraft from all around.

He found refuge on the edge of the quad, beside a patch of bushes. He carefully laid the commandant down, propping her back up against the wall just behind. Her breathing was labored, her eyes strained as she fought to raise them to him. Never could he have imagined the chief officer of SeeD looking so helpless. He briefly turned his attention back to the battlefield. Out of nowhere, the T-Board had zoomed back into the fray. It swerved around the outside, en route to the shattered exterior wall. To his dismay, it was now Quistis who rode behind Zell.

Dammit, where's Selphie when you need her?!

"Nice… hustle…"

He turned back to Xu. Her eyes were dilated and, despite her grave condition, strangely content. They showed not an inkling of fear, but rather overwhelming pride. Achingly, she reached her free hand down to her belt, unclipping the still-active GF sphere. The light seeping out shone as radiantly as Selphie's, albeit from the standard silver casing.

"I've had this… for 9 years," she eked out. "From the… first year they were brought to Balamb Garden. I remember… I thought I was invincible, as long as I had its power. If only I'd known this is how it would end. But… how could I? There was no other army in the world like us."

"Don't say another word!" Squall urged her. "Save your strength, because I'm going to save you."

"You already have."

Her words came to him in a hoarse whisper; he could barely make them out with the battle still raging on. Even as her voice faltered however, her stare did not.

"That speech you gave that day… I never told you how much of an impact it had on me. It reminded me of the day I graduated, and what being a SeeD really meant to me. I... must have lost sight of that somewhere along the way. When I became commandant, and learned Norg had been running things all along… I just accepted it was all about the money. That it had always been from the start. But now… I know it doesn't have to be that way. We can be a force for change instead. You're the one who made me realize that, Squall. It's why I knew… you'd be the perfect successor. It's why I can die now, without regrets… knowing I gave my life for something I believed in."

Squall was stunned. He hadn't even noticed she'd moved her sphere to his palm until she brought her other hand up to clasp his fingers around it. She kept her eyes locked to his. Her lips wearily drew up into a strained smile.

"It's in your hands now… Commandant," she weakly groaned. "Win this fight… for all of us…"

With one last breath, her eyes fluttered shut. Her hands went limp, letting go of their grip on his own. Her head slumped down, as if into slumber. With a heavy heart, Squall realized it was one she would never wake from. Xu Adrastia, 4th Commandant of Balamb Garden, master of holy spellcraft, had fallen in the line of duty. The head officer of SeeD, who'd taken him under her wing, now lay lifeless against the quad's rim. Her final words still lingered with him well after she'd departed; he'd never realized just what an impression he'd truly made on her that day.

The notion was too much to process, the urge to shed tears over it barely containable. He held them back regardless; he knew now was not the time to become swept up in the raw emotion. Whether or not Selphie could do anything for her now, he needed to organize his retinue, and come up with a new plan of action. He couldn't let Xu's sacrifice be in vain. He powered down the holy sphere, stowed it in his jacket pocket, and raised himself from cover behind the bushes. He took one last look down at the fallen commandant, noting just how content her face still looked even in death.

Xu… we will win this fight. I swear it…

He tore around the rim to Zell and Quistis' position. They'd dismounted the T-Board to stand on the lip of the great divot in the outer wall. The former instructor stood with her attention turned to the confrontation, firing ice blasts at any who drew near. She pivoted at his approach from the side, training her outstretched palm to him. She suddenly relaxed as she realized who it was.

"What's the situation?" Squall asked. "Where's Selphie?"

"With Irvine in the atrium," she answered. "Give Zell a hand, will you? Rinoa's hanging off the Garden down below!"

"What?!"

He cast his bulging eyes past her to where Zell was hunched over by the edge. He looked as if he were fishing. What accounted for a rod was one end of a sterling pair of metal nunchaku. The other end was tied together with Quistis' whip, dangling over the steep drop where the ground gave way. Squall bolted forward to his side, and looked down. There, far below, Rinoa hung from a thick black wire burrowed into the Garden's exposed foundation. The whip's leather handle was still well out of her reach.

"What the hell happened?!" he roared to Zell.

"How about we let her fill you in?!" the blonde shot back. "How strong is your jacket?"

Squall hurriedly slipped it off without argument. Rinoa must have been hanging on for some time now, at least since he'd noticed Zell and Selphie making a beeline for the atrium. There was no telling how much longer she could hold out, much less if Galbadia Garden moved in for another collision. He quickly tied one bulky leather sleeve to the end of the nunchaku bar, praying the crescent moon jutting out would catch it if his knot came undone.

Together, he and Zell moved it hand over hand, lowering the lifeline further down to Rinoa. He glanced over the edge. Closer and closer the whip crept, to where it was just a short ways above her. She carefully reached up with one hand, but to no avail; the handle was still just too far out of reach.

"Just a little more!" he called back.

Hunched so far down, and pushed so close to the edge, there was little slack left to their makeshift rope. And then, suddenly, there was no more need. Rinoa leapt up, grabbing hold of the whip with one hand. Squall was so shocked, he nearly lost his own grip on the jacket as her weight suddenly started pulling the line down.

"She's got it!" he corrected himself. "Heave!"

Zell followed suit behind him. They both tugged with all their might, Squall desperately praying he wouldn't feel the weight give way. As they drew Rinoa up the cliff-side, the mighty leap she'd made for the whip handle replayed in his head. It had been a very agile one, surely requiring much more upper body strength than she had to hoist herself into the air. Squall doubted even he could have managed it without wind propulsion via his GF.

Did she…?!

He'd briefly touched on the basics of wind conjuration during her first two weeks of training. The basis of the instruction had been on channeling the energy into her legs, which she'd been unable to pick up on. Doing so through her arms would have naturally come easier, and even more so now, after sufficient practice with her own native element. There was realistically no other way she could have cleared the gap just then.

As Rinoa finally surmounted the lip and crawled onto the pavement, she shot him a beaming smile. The girl he'd rescued from the lizard creatures in Deling City had been a sniveling wreck by comparison. Learning to fend for herself had clearly made her stronger; she'd gained not only the skill, but the resilience needed to survive. Perhaps he'd underestimated her determination after all.

"This is no time to be standing around!" Quistis exclaimed. "Let's move!"

Squall recognized her point. Though much of the fighting had moved inward, as Edea's forces continued pushing their way towards the atrium, the quad was still very much a warzone. He, Rinoa, and Zell all followed her lead across to the other end, the blonde breaking stride only to scoop up his T-Board. Thankfully, she'd elected to head in the opposite direction from where Xu's body now lay; he had no desire to subject her to yet more grief without good reason. They took cover behind a cluster of discarded motorcycles and mechs, ducking down low to minimize themselves.

Another earthquake struck before any of them could get a word out. The tremor was less severe than the one that had bored a hole in the side of the quad, albeit still potent enough to topple them to their knees. Squall raised his eyes as he fought to regain balance. Galbadia Garden still loomed over the outer walls, this time closer to their rear, between the cafeteria and dorms. The navigation crew were clearly attempting to reorient their position, at the cost of taking on another glancing blow.

Looks like we weren't a moment too soon with Rinoa…

"Those fuckers keep bashing us like a punching bag!" Zell blurted out as he rose.

"How are things on the inside?" Squall half-yelled over the ongoing battle. He quickly untied his jacket from the nunchaku/whip hybrid, and slipped it back on.

"Not good," Quistis grimly replied. "They've breached the upper levels. There's too many avenues for them to attack from now. We're not going to last at this rate. One more wave, and we might be finished."

Maybe we should have focused on attacking from the beginning instead of concentrating on our defense…

"Squall, now's not the time to be stuck in your head!" Rinoa cut in.

"We need to launch a counterattack, and take out Edea," he obliged her. "Cut off the snake's head, and the body dies. I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but there's no other way. Taking the fight directly to her might our only chance now."

"And how the hell are we supposed to get aboard?!" Zell asked incredulously.

Squall simply pointed to the T-Board still clutched in his hand.

"You're sick of them ramming us? Then let's give them a taste of their own medicine. Rinoa, you're with me. You two round up the others, and prepare to deploy out through that hole. We'll charge them head on, and bank left before impact to give you a clear shot over."

"Not sure if you've noticed, but it's only got room for two!"

"Then take a look around. There's plenty to choose from."

Squall swept his hand in a semi-circle, indicating the plethora of abandoned hovercrafts and motorcycles. Most of the fallen troops still wore parachutes strapped to their backs, yet to be engaged in light of a successful deployment.

"Quistis, I take it you and Selphie can provide buffering once you've touched down?"

"If need be," she answered; her voice expressed little enthusiasm at the proposition. "Still, shouldn't you run all this by the commandant first?"

A pang shot through Squall's heart. He pondered for the briefest moment whether or not to tell her, before realizing there was nothing to gain from it. Time was ticking.

"These are the commandant's orders," he told her. Much to his own disbelief, it wasn't a lie. "Be ready in ten. Now, move out!"

The three obeyed, falling in after him. Drawing his gunblade, he took point as he led the charge back in the direction of the atrium. He circled the rim to the steps, cutting down any foe in his way with relative ease. Zell and Quistis zoomed ahead of him on the T-Board, veering around friend and foe alike. To his relief, there had been no more summons conjured by either side. Better still, reinforcements had arrived to bolster the entryway defenses; their straight shot through would be all the more manageable. He ascended the stairs in short order, with Rinoa trailing close behind.

"We're not just letting them go in on their own, right?" she asked along the way.

"One step at a time."

He hoped to reassure himself as much as her. Beyond the safety of his closest comrades, the fate of the Garden and SeeD as a whole now rested on his shoulders. His worst nightmare had become reality. The burden he'd hoped never to bear was finally his, well before the time he'd been promised. Its severity became all the more clear as he emerged back into the atrium. The lay of the land was nearly unrecognizable; major sections of the walkways were upended, the debris littering the waters all around. Legions of students were spread about, unloading weapons' fire and spellcraft up at a formation of mechs whizzing through the air. A missile rained down from one, impacting on the neighboring walkway to the infirmary. Bodies flew wildly in its wake.

Squall didn't slow. He charged straight for the steps, deftly maneuvering around everyone in his path. He only glanced back once he'd reached the elevator. To his relief, Rinoa had managed to keep up. They filed into the nearest capsule together. As he waved his clearance card over the scanner and jammed the button for the top floor, he gazed back out at the commotion. Knights and soldiers had begun storming in from the cafeteria, cementing Galbadia's foothold in the Garden.

"You know something?" Rinoa suddenly spoke to him as the door slid shut. "I couldn't afford to fall off that cliff and die. I have something important that belongs to you."

He spun back around as the lift began to rise. His jaw dropped the instant he noticed the ring she was holding up. It ran through a slim chain around her neck, the same that had formerly carried a plain silver band. The one in its place was engraved with a roaring lion's head.

"Zell gave it to me," she explained. "I've been holding onto it. For good luck."

I'm going to kill him…

"That's my favorite ring," he hinted.

"I'd say so. You've always got it on. That and your pendant. Everything's about lions with you, isn't it, Squall?"

"Lions are known for their great strength and pride. It's a symbol of what I've always aspired for. To have a strong heart… like Matron told me to, so long ago."

The memories, once so hazy, were now clear. He could perfectly recall the pep talk Edea had given him after Ellone's departure. For however askew he'd gone over the years, her encouragement then was what had kept him pushing forward. Indeed, as a child, he'd never stopped to ponder why he'd been given the surname 'Leonhart' after being enrolled in the Garden. It must have been her doing. And yet, despite everything she'd done for him and the others, it was now his sworn duty to defeat her. He well and truly understood how Irvine must have felt that night in the city.

"I see," Rinoa muttered. She kept her eyes fixed to the ring. "You know, Zell promised he'd make me one exactly like it. And then… maybe I could become like a lion, too. Wouldn't that be crazy, huh? I mean, everyone might, y'know… get the wrong idea about us."

If it's so crazy, why do you sound so delighted? Everyone's trying to get us together. It's so obvious even I can tell…

"Well, Squall… you're one of the strongest people I know. You give me the confidence to fight. You're the reason I'm sure everything will turn out alright in the end."

"Don't speak too soon," he urged her.

The elevator doors opened as they reached the top floor. He stormed ahead into the bridge, setting his sights on the command center high above. To his surprise, the headmaster stood among the navigation crew up top; he'd previously resigned himself to staying holed up in his office. Squall took hold of the rungs, and quickly ascended to their level. Cid's eyes lit up behind his glasses as he pulled himself over the lip.

"How are things downstairs?" he nervously asked.

"Our defense is barely holding," Squall answered. "They're already pushing their way into the atrium. We'll need to go on the offense to have any hope of victory now. My team's standing by. I'm sending them aboard, to take the fight to Edea. Everyone, keep pulling away! We're going to circle back around, and ram them along the starboard side!"

"Are you sure about this?" Cid spoke for the rest of the crew. "Have you discussed this with Xu? Where is she right now?"

"She…"

Still, he dared not admit it, even to the headmaster. He could accept the reality of her demise, however difficult it was. What he couldn't yet were the ramifications it carried. Cid however seemed to understand well enough without him saying a word; his wrinkled face turned dour, his eyes now tinged with sadness.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "May she rest in peace. It falls to you then, Squall. The fate of this Garden is in your hands. You heard him, everyone! Pull away, and prepare to ram along the starboard side!"

The crew stayed the course as instructed. They swung further out along the Bika Snowfield to put as much distance between them and Galbadia Garden as possible. Squall turned his attention from the window to Rinoa beside him. Her face was fraught with concern at the sudden turn of events.

"Thought I'd be able to ease into the job, huh?" he joked.

"I… guess not," she muttered. "Still, I believe in you, Squall. I'll follow your lead every step of the way."

Well, that makes one of us…

"Squall," Cid addressed him again. "You're forgetting something very important."

He turned to the headmaster at the fore of the command deck. He held up the intercom receiver in one hand, beckoning him over with the other.

"Talk to your troops. Tell them to prepare for the incoming collision. And more than that, encourage them. Let them know this fight isn't over yet. As the acting commandant, it's your duty."

Squall hadn't forgotten. On the contrary, he'd been dreading the inevitability from the moment Xu had passed him the title. But what could he possibly say to them? He'd only just been named her successor 3 weeks prior, and earned his standing as a SeeD barely a month before that. Things had progressed too far, too fast, leaving him without any experience by which to command the army. His heart raced in his chest. His eyes began watering. His mouth had gone completely dry. The responsibility was simply too much for him to bear. Just when he thought he might pass out, a gentle hand clasped itself on his shoulder.

"I haven't been living here that long," Rinoa softly spoke to him. "I don't know what kind of reputation you had before all this. But I know how it's been ever since you got the promotion. I heard them talking about you everywhere for those few days after; in the cafeteria, out in the courtyards, even just passing by in the halls. Everybody in this Garden looks up to you, Squall. They like you. They know you have what it takes to lead them. And so do I."

The sincerity in her words stunned him. Though he'd never been the trusting sort, he knew in his heart she had no reason to lie to him. Slowly but steadily, all the uncertainty faded away, and in a rare moment of clarity, he finally found the courage to close the door on his old ways. His mind flashed back to the evaluation printed on his field exam results: 'inclination towards a role of leadership', it had read. He'd been running from his destiny ever since, living in fear of failing to live up to whatever responsibility came with it. And yet now, in their darkest hour, he could no longer ignore its call. His time had come.

He strode forward to meet the headmaster, accepted the receiver from him, and clicked the switch on the nearby console. The 4-tone chime rang through the hall. He sucked in a deep breath and, just as he had at Fisherman's Horizon that day, began speaking from the heart.

"To everyone who can hear this… this is Commandant Squall Leonhart. That's right, Commandant. Things are looking pretty dire right now, aren't they? Most of you are probably too caught up in the fighting to pay any attention to this, but I'm asking you to please try as hard as you can. We still have a chance to win this fight. To do that, we're going to head straight into their Garden, so I want everyone to prepare for a major collision. Zell, Selphie, Quistis, and Irvine, standby for deployment. All students assigned to the junior classmen and staff, hold your position. Everyone else, keep up the fight for as long as you can.

"One way or another, this is going to be our final battle. SeeD was formed to combat the sorceress… or at least, that's what I've been told. That being the case, this battle is Balamb Garden's ultimate destiny, and our own. So, just this once, I want you guys to give it everything you've got! For yourselves, and for me! I don't want anyone to look back and regret this day! Stand strong, hold the line, and I promise you… we will win!"

He clicked off the intercom and set the receiver back in its slot. Through the window before him, Galbadia Garden had come back into full view, its sleek red body fully lit up by the morning sun. All was set for their last desperate charge to commence. On cue, the same familiar hand clamped back down on his shoulder.

"You see?" she smiled. "I knew you had it in you, all along."

He was unsure how to respond to the praise. A flat dismissal had been his usual go-to for as long as he could remember. Those days were behind him.

"Thank you," he replied instead. "Now, let's see how they like being on the receiving end. Charge!"

"Man's got some balls," Irvine quipped.

For how impressed he'd been by Squall's speech at Fisherman's Horizon, the address he'd given over the intercom was every bit as impactful. To say he'd come a long way was an understatement; he'd seemingly progressed more in the last 6 weeks than in all the years since they'd been together at the orphanage. Clearly, the decision to name him next-in-line had been the right one.

"Behind every great man is a great woman," Selphie chimed in. With the immediate area clear, she sidled herself onto the rear of the motorcycle.

"Yeah, I guess so. I know I'm glad you've got my back right now."

"You betcha!"

With the enemy's continuing advance into the atrium, the battle in the quad had moved up the steps and down the connecting hallway. At Quistis and Zell's behest, he and Selphie had circled back through the dorms' side entrance, and around the connecting courtyards. In the meantime, they'd gone ahead on the T-Board to make preparations. They'd been waiting on the quad's outer rim with a motorcycle and set of parachutes by the time they arrived. There, they'd finally explained the plan. Irvine could hardly believe Squall, usually so reserved and level-headed, would resort to such a reckless charge into the enemy Garden. But then, as things stood, there truly was no other option. The determination in his voice moments ago was obvious enough.

Zell and Quistis idled beside them on the T-Board, the latter keeping her attention trained to the fighting atop the stairs. Bodies littered the ground all across the quad; there would be barely enough room to maneuver themselves from the rim to the blown-apart wall. Other upturned motorcycles and a handful of abandoned mechs lay among them. The top of Galbadia Garden peeked over due south, just beyond the infirmary block. Apparently, Squall's plan was to swerve in along the side, knocking the Garden off kilter and providing them the opportunity to soar on over. Despite the boosters strapped to the bike, he still had doubts about its practicality. Even the parachutes on his and Selphie's backs weren't enough to reassure him. Though using the mechs would put them at less risk, neither Irvine nor anyone else among them had ever piloted one before. Time was of the essence. There was none to be wasted on figuring out their controls, least of all when they could be easily picked off in mid-flight.

"Hey, listen," he broke the silence between them. "This is gonna get pretty dicey, so… I just want you to know, I'm really happy I got to meet you again after all these years. I've got no regrets."

"Don't start talking like that!" Selphie insisted. She gave him a playful slap on the back. "We're gonna get through this! You'll see!"

"I sure hope so. Either way, it's just something I've wanted to tell you for all this time. Seemed like I'd never get the chance for a while, with you and the others forgetting everything. I just figured it's now or never. Whatever happens, I'm so glad to have you back in my life, Selphie. And if we make it through this… when we make it through this… I'll be sure to let you know it every day."

"Same," she agreed, wrapping her arms around his torso. "I'm never letting go of you again, Irvy."

"Well, I guess we're gonna put that to the test right now!"

The Garden began to turn. His former home towered right beside, now clearly visible through the tremendous gap in the wall. Irvine revved the motorcycle with one hand, the thumb of his other hovering precariously over the booster ignition. Closer the side of Galbadia Garden drew, to where he could just barely glimpse a section of the outer courtyards on its edge. Several of the many flower beds where he would traditionally lounge had been uplifted along with the rest of the academy. The surrounding walls were significantly more stout than Balamb Garden's, whereby they'd once offered an open view of the Monterosa Plateau all around. Alas, there was no time for nostalgia.

Giddy-up!

He floored the accelerator. The rear tire screeched as it whirled in place, burning rubber on the asphalt. The bike then shot forward with a sudden lurch, tearing across the battlefield. He didn't risk a glance to see how Zell and Quistis were faring; he was too focused on threading a line through the surrounding carnage. At last, the collision came just before they reached the edge. He engaged the boosters the moment the front tire left solid ground. They soared through the air, now completely at the mercy of gravity. Time slowed. Selphie's grip around his midriff stayed tight as his own on the handles. He couldn't breathe. He wouldn't dare to.

Before he knew it, they'd hit solid ground again. The bike slammed down hard on the outer grounds. It wobbled unsteadily, partially owing to his sheer surprise. He lost control, and tumbled off with Selphie. Still, she refused to let go. They groaned and grunted together as they hit the grass, Irvine taking the brunt of the blow. With the adrenaline still rushing through his nerves, the pain barely registered to him. He lay there in amazement for a short while.

As opposed to him, Zell had somehow managed to stick the landing on his T-Board. The motorcycle now lay atop a nearby bed of flowers, having churned up much of the soil following his wipeout. Feeling Selphie finally crawl off his back, he achingly flipped himself over. She just as quickly pinned him again before he could rise.

"Told ya so!" she beamed down at him. Despite their latest brush with death, her smile stayed brilliant as the rising sun.

"That was the easy part," he smiled back.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Zell called to them. "Let's win this fight before you start rolling around in the grass, huh?"

Selphie's face went flush at the comment. Even without a mirror, Irvine knew his must have looked the same. He motioned for her to get off. She acceded, allowing him to rise. Together, they fell in after their comrades. As they took their first steps forward, Irvine realized they were the final few towards a confrontation more grueling than any they'd faced before. And yet, no matter the hardships ahead, whether physical or emotional, they couldn't afford to fail. The fate of the world now lay in their hands.

Chapter Text

"You think they made it over?" Rinoa wondered as they filed aboard the elevator.

"They better have," Squall answered. "It's going to take all of us to stand up to her."

He followed her into the capsule, and jammed the button for the first floor. As the doors closed, he continued to reflect on the speech he'd given. Had his words been sufficient to rally the troops? Or had they fallen on deaf ears? With the battle still ongoing, it was likely many had ignored him. Those on the frontlines certainly wouldn't have had the leisure to listen; neither would they need a pep talk to keep fighting, he imagined. Ultimately however, the fate of the world once again rested on his and his comrades' shoulders.

"Well, how are we getting over?" Rinoa asked as they descended back down into the atrium.

"We'll double back to the quad," he explained. "With any luck, we can salvage one of the enemy's trans-"

His words were cut short as the glass paneling all around them shattered. Rinoa promptly hit the deck out of instinct. He stayed standing as the bullets ricocheted off his energy shield, tracing their trajectory back to the source. A Galbadian mech swooped in from the side, descending in tandem with the elevator. Squall raised his hand, working at speed to channel the energy through his arm. His eyes bulged as he realized there would be no time. The mech wasn't slowing.

It smashed through what remained of the glass the next moment, ramming straight into him. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs. He desperately groped for something, anything, to grab hold of as he was carried out the other side. His hands caught on the mech's safety harness, leaving him dangling almost face to face with the pilot. The trooper's lips beneath his visor furrowed into a scowl. A sharp turn followed, clearly intended to fling Squall off. Still, he kept hanging on for dear life.

Battle continued to rage below as the Galbadians pressed inward from seemingly every avenue. Squall could hardly tell for sure; his surroundings whirled by in a blur courtesy of the pilot's wild swerving. The mech dipped and ducked every which way, barely avoiding the network of walkways branching off from the central pillar. He clenched his fists as tight as he could to the restraints. Only once the next brief period of stability came around did he release his left, and begin fumbling for the release. His efforts earned him a sudden hook across the cheek.

He grit his teeth against the blow, not letting his right hand's grip falter. The next moment, he fired back with the other. The mech swerved downward sharply as the punch connected with the pilot's jaw. Squall instantly set his eyes to work, darting all about the harness; the time it would take for his adversary to readjust was his window of opportunity. He quickly found both latches and unfastened them, one after the other. With a forceful yank, the pilot tumbled free, screaming as he plummeted down to the water.

On cue, the turbine engines' continual whir began to slow. The mech dipped back down as it lost propulsion, gradually falling from mid-air. Squall's weight hanging from one side directed it towards the inner walkway around the elevators. SeeDs and cadets along its circumference cleared the way as they noticed it incoming. Eyeing the ground all the while, he finally let go once he could be sure of where he'd land. He channeled the energy into his legs to form a flotation buffer, touching down amid the scattered crowd.

The mech followed shortly after; it grazed off the central pillar roughly 15 feet up before crashing down onto the linoleum tiling a short ways ahead of him. For all the commotion in its wake, there was little devastation. The mech's durable steel frame was still in one piece and, more importantly, hadn't landed on top of anyone. Several nearby students began to gather all around. One girl in particular frantically pushed her way through the crowd to reach him.

"Squall!" Rinoa called his name. "Are you alright?"

He opened his mouth to respond, when another cadet stepped forward alongside her.

"That was a close one, Commandant," he said.

Merely being addressed by the title caused Squall's thoughts to stall in their tracks. He hadn't been prepared for it. Though the cadet may not have noticed his disbelief, Rinoa surely did; she shot him a knowing smile.

"As you were," he ordered him.

"Sir!"

The salutation came from not just the one cadet, but several others in the vicinity as well. They all flashed him the signature Garden salute before returning to their duties. Squall himself knew better than to stand idly by. Though the center was secure, the enemy forces were still pushing in from all sides. Fighting their way to the quad looked to be no longer feasible; soldiers and knights were already spilling out from the entryway. And so, he began ruminating on an alternative plan. He didn't have to look far for inspiration.

He traipsed over to the fallen mech, beckoning with one hand for Rinoa to follow after. It certainly appeared to still be in working condition. The question was whether or not he had the capacity to operate it. Regardless, he grabbed hold of the metal chassis and heaved, fighting to stand it upright. Rinoa moved in to assist.

"You really think you can fly this thing?" she asked him.

"We're going to find out."

With the mech's body raised, he backed himself in, placing his boots on the metal footholds. A joystick with a trigger occupied the left-hand arm; he lightly jerked it in all directions, finding it could also be pushed and pulled vertically. The right was dotted with a plethora of switches and buttons, as well as a throttle akin to a motorcycle's. Provided it controlled the turbines, piloting the mech ought to be simple enough for him. Satisfied, he reached back for both halves of the safety harness.

"Might be a tight squeeze for both of us," he told her. "You want to give it a try?"

She hesitated for a moment, and then smiled. Taking his hand, she climbed aboard. She turned to stand with her back to him on the tips of his boots, and reached behind to maneuver the harness over them both.

"You're letting me decide? No 'stay here where you'll be safe' routine? You have changed."

"Does this look safe to you?" he gestured to their surroundings. "Just hurry. We have to catch up with the others."

As instructed, she clicked both latches into place, strapping them into the mech. Predictably, it was a tight fit; their bodies were practically squashed together. Her flowing, dark hair obscured his field of vision, though the few inches he had on her height-wise were sufficient for him to see what he needed to. He sucked in a deep breath to prepare himself, catching a whiff of her shampoo in the process, and revved the throttle.

The turbines obeyed; they whirred back to life at his command, kicking up a gust of wind. He next pulled straight up on the joystick. Sure enough, the mech began rising from the floor. They were airborne within moments, climbing higher and higher beside the central pillar.

Let's just hope no one shoots us down…

Gazing up, he saw one of the upper walkways drawing near; it extended out to meet roughly the 5th or 6th floor by his estimation. He guided them up and over the edge before tilting the stick forward, and cruised ahead to meet the corridor entrance. Already, he was becoming more confident in controlling the mech. They hung a turn at the intersection, towards the emergency exit hatches at fore of the academy.

To their benefit, the hallway was devoid of ongoing combat. Rather, it was the dead and dying who lay sprawled about its length. However disheartening the sight, it boded well for there being an already existing opening on this level. Squall knew better than to blast one in the side of the corridor himself. Besides the very real risk of harming the survivors, not to mention Rinoa in front of him, he was confident that the mech had no more missiles in reserve. Why else would its former pilot have made a divebomb at the elevator otherwise?

Just as he'd expected, the hall soon gave way to a blown-apart section of wall. More casualties lay scattered all around; they'd likely still been en route to their positions when the mechs had burst in. Carefully angling himself up with the opening, he re-engaged the throttle, and soared on through. They emerged in the airspace over the quad. Squall kept on the move, ascending higher into the air so as to avoid being picked off by a fellow Garden operative below.

The wind whipped through his and Rinoa's hair as they climbed higher. The girl let out a cry at the sudden increase in speed; whether of alarm or exhilaration, he couldn't tell. They rose to match the height of Galbadia Garden just ahead. Its crimson exterior gleamed nearly as brightly in the morning sunlight as the spinning flotation ring holding it aloft. The ruined husk of Trabia Garden just a ways north looked so much more dismal by comparison; the smoldering had largely died down, leaving a scant few flickers still lapping at the scorched earth.

The phoenix firebombing still perplexed him. How could Edea's forces have anticipated their sneak attack? All signs pointed to an informant in their ranks, like he'd previously suspected Selphie of being. No matter how fantastic the story she'd told them was, he had no reason to distrust her in light of their history together. But if not her, then who could have divulged their plan to the enemy? And by what possible means?

He pushed the conundrum out of his mind as he prepared to descend. The skies were remarkably clear; though he couldn't glance back to be sure, it seemed no other mechs had stayed behind to defend their base. Likewise, there was no sign of ground forces aboard as he traveled further in overhead. Perhaps they'd assumed there would be no need with the Balamb forces confined to their own Garden. Or perhaps it was a sign of something far more devious yet to come. Regardless, their way in was clear.

Squall set his sights on one of the Garden's inner courtyards, and gradually swooped down for landing. The segment in question appeared to be the main field house; a series of tennis and basketball courts were spread across its length. He carefully pushed the joystick down to descend, easing off the throttle to reduce their speed. After a few more moments, they gingerly touched down atop the asphalt.

"Nice flying!" Rinoa commented.

She quickly unbuckled the harness, and stepped off onto solid ground. Finally relieved of her body tightly squashed up against his, Squall let himself breathe easy, and followed suit.

"Strange there's no welcoming committee," he hummed.

"Yeah, looks pretty dead," she agreed. "Doesn't mean we get complacent though, right?"

"You got it. Let's move."

He led the way out of the field house and through the adjacent locker room entrance. They emerged thereafter into one of the many winding corridors of the academy proper, every bit as cold and uniform as Squall recalled. And yet, it was nearly unrecognizable without the bustle of the daily student commute. The difference was so stark, he could barely recall the route he'd spent that morning tracing back and forth from the entrance hall. He doubted he would have fared better even with the milling crowds; far too much had happened in the last month for him to remember clearly. Still, they pressed on through the winding labyrinth to the best of his recollection.

He froze as he heard footsteps approaching from around the corner up ahead. Rinoa followed suit, putting her back to the wall. Squall drew his gunblade, and edged forward to just before the intersection. As the steps drew closer, so too could he make out a yell from further down the hall. The voice certainly didn't belong to anyone of his retinue. Neither did he expect so of the runner; he leapt out of cover just before they crossed the threshold.

The infantryman stumbled to a halt as Squall brought the gunblade up to just beneath his chin. His mouth fell open in surprise. His hands shot to the ceiling. Squall motioned with one hand for him to get up against the wall. He did so without protest, allowing him to move in closer from behind. Only once pinned by the blade resting on the back of his neck did Rinoa step out from hiding.

"I'm getting so sick of you," the soldier menaced.

His words momentarily caused Squall to lose his composure. Beyond the implication they'd met before, his voice's rough timbre was unnervingly familiar.

"Lieutenant… er, Sergeant Biggs!" the other voice called out; it drew closer by the second. "Please, just listen to me for a mome-"

The second soldier turned into the hall around another corner further along. He stopped in his tracks the moment he caught sight of his superior pinned to the wall.

"Dammit, Wedge! Just shut it for once, will you?!"

Squall knew he hadn't imagined it; while he no longer wore the bulky red officer uniform, the voice was unmistakable. He knew this soldier, and his comrade for that matter.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, dispensing with pleasantries.

"Take a wild guess!" Biggs fired back. "It's just us and the bridge crew left in here."

"You want me to believe you're the only guards still on board?"

"Guards? We're the couple of fuck-ups who got put on standby to send up the retreat signal! As if that's ever going to happen. Doesn't matter if we're down to the last man, we're not pulling back. That witch couldn't care less whether we all live or die. That's why I'm getting out now. You wanna take a crack at her, be my guest. I sure as hell won't try to stop you."

Squall quietly contemplated whether to let him go free. Though he took the disgraced former officer at his word, the urge for vengeance was difficult to stifle. He'd suffered so much at Biggs' hands already in the prison. But, as the soldier had told him then, hardly anyone in the army believed theirs was a righteous cause. Plenty more would follow his example should Edea be brought to justice this day.

'Cut off the snake's head, and the body dies.'

He relieved the blade from Biggs' neck. The sergeant jolted in place the moment he heard it slide back into the scabbard, and took his cue. He ran off down the corridor without looking back. Wedge was on his heels the next moment, nearly bowling over Rinoa in his haste. The girl recovered swiftly, and turned her attention back to Squall.

"What the heck was that about?" she asked him.

"It's not important," he reassured her. "Come on. We're wasting time."

Their trek through the intertwining network of hallways recommenced. As they pressed on, Squall's thoughts turned back to his first encounter with Biggs and Wedge atop the communications tower. Seemingly everything had changed since the Dollet siege. In reality however, the wheels had been set in motion well before that fateful day; by Norg's account, it had been mere weeks before then that Edea had allied herself with Deling. It was impossible for him to know for certain how far back the chain of events stretched, however. Furthermore, whatever madness had taken her mind to begin with still remained a mystery. And perhaps it forever would.

His pondering was interrupted as he noticed a familiar foursome dash across another intersection up ahead. Predictably, it was Irvine who led the way. Selphie followed just behind, with Quistis and Zell bringing up the rear; the boy still carried his T-Board under his arm.

"Hey, guys!" Rinoa shouted them down.

Zell and Quistis abruptly stopped in their tracks, and swiveled to face them. Selphie and Irvine doubled back the next moment; they both lit up at the sight of Rinoa, and raced forward to meet her. As his entourage reunited before his eyes, Squall couldn't keep a smile from spreading across his lips.

"How'd you two get in here?" Zell asked as he and Quistis approached.

"Sprouted wings and flew," Squall sarcastically answered.

Zell cocked his eyebrow at the comment, but said nothing more. Selphie had moved on to treating Rinoa's hands with her holy energy; the lacerations from her fall down the cliff-side swiftly mended under the light shining from her palm.

"Orders, Commandant?" Quistis finally asked him.

The implication wasn't lost on him. Neither was the severity in her stare.

"You know the way to the top?" he asked Irvine.

"Like the back of my hand. So… we're really doing this?"

"Do you really need me to tell you? There's no other choice. We've come too far to turn back now. It's time to finish this."

The sharpshooter nodded his head in return. He swiveled back around, and motioned for them to follow. Zell, Rinoa, and Selphie obliged in short order, leaving Quistis and Squall to bring up the rear. The former instructor stayed rooted to the spot. Her eyes kept staring him down, pestering him to come clean. He realized he owed it to her. He'd seen how friendly she and Xu had been the morning of the field exam; it was the very same camaraderie he'd come to share with her before the end.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "There was nothing I could do for her. I just didn't want to weigh you down with any more worry."

Quistis' piercing stare softened, and unfurled into one of surprise. From there, it melted just as quickly into a gentle smile.

"Squall being considerate?" she softly mused. "You really have changed."

It was Squall who now wore the stunned expression. Quistis turned to follow after the others before he could muster a reply. He begrudgingly let it go, and fell in after her.

What's so surprising about that? I care just like everyone else.

Irvine led them around several more twists and turns in the maze, passing by dozens of open lecture halls along the way. True to Biggs' word, all was deserted. It perturbed Squall to think Edea would willingly leave herself so vulnerable. Surely they had to be walking into a trap. And yet, perhaps the answer was as simple as overconfidence; that she could overwhelm them quickly enough to where there would be no need for defensive measures, leaving the Garden manned by a skeleton crew. She was clearly more than capable of defending herself if necessary, and doubtless so much more. He could only hope that with the combined might of their GFs, there was a chance, however slim, to overpower her.

Finally, a familiar sight popped into view from the end of the hall. Several evenly spaced patches of greenery sat between four intersecting walkways, bathed in sunlight streaming in from above. A directory stood in the center. Squall's heart leapt into his throat as he laid eyes on it; even he could retrace his steps to the main elevator from the entrance hall. They emerged into the wide circular antechamber from the left-hand side, and tore straight ahead for the directory. The turnstiled front entrance had been sealed by a thick blast door, much like Balamb Garden's own following its mobilization. Otherwise, all was as he remembered.

"Home sweet home," Irvine sighed as he reached the center. "Now that I'm back though… well, it's just not what I thought it'd feel like."

"I gotcha," Zell said. "What's home without the people you care about, right?"

"Sorta… but it's like I told you before, I was never all that close with anyone here to begin with. At least, not on a real, emotional level. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. You guys are the only true family I've ever had. And the only one I'll need."

Squall silently agreed. To think he'd thought so little of Irvine on their first meeting, when in reality they'd effectively been two sides of the same coin. All that separated them had been their methods of coping with abandonment; Squall had embraced the loneliness, while Irvine had sought to fake his way to acceptance among his peers. And yet now, as commandant, he could no longer conscience falling back on his old ways. SeeD was his family, and more than that, his responsibility.

"Aw, I'm so flattered!"

Squall's ears perked up at the familiar voice; its snide timbre he would recognize anywhere. He turned his eyes to its source, the upper second level of the entrance hall. There his rival stood at the railing above the northern hall, leering down at the six of them from on high.

"Family reunions always get me so teary-eyed," Seifer smarmed with a wicked grin. "And would you look at that! The gang's all here! Well, almost."

"How 'bout you come on down here so I can knock you off the family tree?!" Zell roared up at him.

Cool it, Zell…

"And Rinoa!" the sorceress' knight called out, ignoring the outburst. "What's with the uniform? Don't tell me you're looking to fight me, too? Come on, don't you remember a year ago, when we-"

"Shut up!"

Squall couldn't keep himself from jolting in place. He'd never heard Rinoa's voice filled with so much rage before; not even her blow-up at him back in Deling City could compare.

"I don't know you anymore!" she yelled. "And I don't want to! I'm just here to make sure they get the job done."

"It's no use, Seifer," Squall backed her up. "You can't mess with our minds."

His rival crossed his arms and bowed his head. A maniacal chuckle escaped his lips, echoing through the deserted hall.

"You poor, misguided dolts. There's nothing I can say or do to you that would cause more damage than Cid has. Your minds are already too far gone. Just look who you're up against!"

Squall had noticed the familiar silhouette approaching from the corridor behind him all the while. The golden back-piece jingled as she stepped into the light. No matter how prepared he'd thought he'd be to see her again, the veins spreading across both her cheeks were still every bit as horrifying. Her eerie yellow eyes popped out from the violet eyeshadow, gleaming as they swept over him and his comrades. He couldn't discern an inkling of sympathy in them for the children she'd raised as her own.

"Matron!" Quistis shouted out to her. "What's happened to you?! Please, stop this!"

Edea's face remained stern, unmoved by her plea. Seifer's swiftly blossomed into pleasant surprise.

"So, you finally remember?" he spat mockingly. "And you still choose to fight for Cid, after everything she's done for us? Thank you so very much for proving my point, Instructor."

"Why are you doing this, Matron?" Squall took over. "Help us understand why you've turned down this road. Please."

Edea's fierce eyes focused on him. Although he'd resigned himself to never knowing the answer, he knew he had to ask; he just couldn't bring himself to go up against her without at least attempting to understand her motives. He didn't dare break the staredown, however intimidating. She finally closed her eyes, her violet lips furrowing into a scowl.

"For the same reason you stand before me now," she spoke in a menacing hiss. "It is the road I was always destined to tread. And the one which was destined to lead me to you. It is why I could foresee your attack from the ruined Garden, and knew you would come aboard to face me. So it has been written."

"Are you saying… you can see the future?" Irvine nervously asked; his jitters from the night of the parade seemed to be returning.

"The future… or perhaps the past? It is all the same to me. And so it shall be for all mankind, one day, very soon. But alas, there is still Ellone to account for. As well as you."

Her eyes suddenly shot back open, and swiftly diverted. Squall turned his head to follow their gaze. From what he could tell, her attention had landed on Selphie, squarely in the middle of their congregation.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me, little girl," the sorceress chortled.

"W-What?"

Squall could hardly believe the statement himself, much less the implication. And yet, there was nothing else of Selphie's she could possibly be alluding to. In a flash, the girl whipped it out of her pocket.

"Do… do you know something about this sphere?!" she demanded.

"Nothing that need concern you."

Edea casually extended one hand to Seifer at her side. The knight promptly dipped his own into his jacket. It returned moments later with another sphere, which he was quick to place into her palm. The sorceress' gloved fingers closed firmly around its casing.

"If you only knew the true power contained within these spheres," she mused. "Perhaps another demonstration is in order."

A brilliant light suddenly began to shine from the sphere within her clasp. It was far brighter and more potent than any Squall had ever seen from a GF; not even the two holy spheres could compare. She cast the energy down before them. It started to take shape in record time, swelling to easily match the phoenix he'd seen from the command deck. He spread his legs, prepared to take evasive action. At last, the light dissipated. In its place towered a monstrosity more fearsome than any he'd faced thus far.

Three heads sprouted from the giant hound's broad torso. Each snarling mouth bore row after row of salivating fangs to rival a great behemoth's, and each paw razor-sharp talons to match. Thick grey scales covered its body from its heads to its long, muscular tail; scant few seams left its natural red tissue underneath exposed. All six total eyes gleamed with an unnatural light much like Edea's own. Three mighty roars filled the hall in unison as the beast formally announced its arrival.

"Everyone spread out!" he shouted as loudly as he could over the ruckus.

Instantly, the other five were on the move. He bolted to the right, following Quistis and Rinoa's lead. Irvine, Selphie, and Zell ducked away to the opposite end of the chamber, the blonde hopping on his T-Board for increased mobility. The hound pounced forward just as they'd cleared the center. Its paws shattered the reinforced directory as though it were constructed of twigs. Its tail swept in a wild semi-circle behind, shredding much of the foliage arrayed around. Each of the three heads craned itself in a different direction, tracking the six of them simultaneously.

One turned towards Squall's position, and opened its jagged maw. He immediately darted away to his comrades further along the wall; he intuitively knew it was more than a show of intimidation from the beast. Searing fire shot from its mouth like a flamethrower the next moment, close enough behind for him to feel the heat on the back of his neck. He reached Quistis and Rinoa unsinged, and turned back in anticipation of a follow-up attack. To his relief, the next move was Selphie's. She loosed three blasts of holy energy at the hound, whistling as they flew through the air. Another head roared on impact, prompting the attention of its siblings. Though he couldn't tell the extent of the damage dealt to its scaly hide, she'd at least diverted its focus. Irvine followed up with a flurry of shotgun blasts one after another from the side. Try as he might, his rounds evidently couldn't pierce the armor.

Meanwhile, just behind the beast, another pair of luminous silhouettes were forming from the ether. These two he clearly recognized; their summoner had taken refuge just inside the hall the party had entered from. Both minotaurs shot for the hound as soon as they materialized. The larger of the two thrust itself head-first into its side, fighting to bore its horns deep into the armor. The smaller seized its tail to hold it in place; despite its dimensions, the creature seemed to possess the strength. The three-headed monster roared again as it began thrashing about.

Tearing his eyes away, Squall glanced back up to Edea and Seifer on the upper rim. Both looked down upon the spectacle with amusement, the sorceress appearing completely unfazed in maintaining the summon. He placed one hand on Rinoa's shoulder, and brought his lips down to her ear.

"Stay on your toes, and help as best you can to keep up the pressure on it!" he half-shouted to her. "Whatever you do, just stay alive! That's an order!"

He broke away from her before she could respond. Channeling the wind into his legs, he built up speed along the hall's circumference, and leapt up to reach the second level. He cleared the railing to land mere yards from Seifer and Edea's side. A smirk crept over the blonde's face as he turned to him. His hand dipped back into his jacket again, emerging with the Hyperion.

"Just like old times, eh?" he taunted him. "'Will this be the one?' he anxiously wonders! 'Can I finally get in a victory now, when it matters most?'"

"Is this all a game to you?" Squall growled. He drew his own gunblade, hefting it up before him. "Do you have any idea how much blood is on your hands? Do you even care?!"

"Well, isn't that rich!" Seifer scoffed. "The lone wolf of Balamb Garden thinks he can lecture me about caring for others? I've already told you: I devote myself to those worthy of it. That's what separates me, the loyal bloodhound, protective of his master, from you mangy wolves with no allegiance to anyone but yourselves."

Squall shifted his eyes back down to the raging battle below. Zell's minotaurs had been tossed aside in the interim, allowing the beast free reign. Its focus now lay squarely on a familiar humanoid figure with pale blue skin. The ice apparition let loose a blast of frigid energy, seemingly every bit as potent as the one which had frozen Norg's leviathan. The hound retaliated with a concentrated burst of flames from all three heads. There was no telling how long his teammates would be able to hold out.

He desperately needed to break Edea's control over the Guardian Force, quickly. And moreover, to prove himself once and for all to his rival. Seifer knew nothing of what SeeD meant to him now. It was not blind obedience which drove him to fight for their cause, nor his duty as commandant. It was his pride for all they'd accomplished, and hope for a better future to come. And beyond even that, to ensure the sacrifice of those who'd given their lives this day would not be in vain. He was the lone wolf no longer.

"Maybe I'm a lion."

Seifer barely had time to raise his eyebrow before Squall was on the move. He charged in with a downward diagonal slash. The clang of steel rang out between them as their blades connected. Both swords had long been close acquaintances on the battlefield; they'd clashed with one another innumerable times through the years, and yet never so intensely as now. Not letting his opponent rest, Squall released the parry, and transitioned into a sideways swipe. Seifer quickly backpedaled out of the weapon's radius, and thrust his own forward. He batted it aside while taking a step back himself. A small gap opened up between them, bringing with it a moment's reprieve. The very next, he leapt back in with another slice.

So the fight progressed upon the hall's upper rim. With limited space by which to dodge on either side, each swordsman vied to push the other further along the curving walkway. They repeatedly traded territory back and forth, neither content to stay on the defensive for long. Squall's years of rigorous training allowed him to correctly read and divert each and every incoming strike. Doing so demanded intense focus, but he'd yet to be tagged by one of Seifer's swipes. He didn't dare let himself be distracted by the ongoing battle in the center; the ensuing commotion had become white noise to his ears. On the contrary, what brief lapses in attention he could afford were directed at Seifer's non-dominant hand. He would be ready should his rival try to call upon his gravity spellcraft again.

And yet, as the slugfest wound on, Squall began considering whether he should be the one to take the initiative. Time was ticking away; the sooner he finished with Seifer, the sooner he could potentially relieve the burden from his teammates below. With his mind made up, he swung his gunblade against Seifer's yet again, this time holding the parry fast. He fed the fire through his left arm all the while, hoping to buy enough time to build it up sufficiently.

Finally, he disengaged, hopped backwards several steps, and unleashed the energy. Seifer's eyes went wide as the fire rapidly shot out from his palm. He raised his own arm to counter, but Squall knew it would be too late for him to possibly form a reflective barrier in time. To his astonishment, the flames sputtered out and died the moment they reached him; the miniature gravity well he'd conjured from his own palm sucked in every last trace.

"That time already?" Seifer smirked triumphantly. "Figures you'd try the same old, underhanded crap with me again. I try to fight fair, and this is the thanks I get?"

Squall silently stood his ground, staring daggers into his rival's eyes. He'd been outsmarted yet again, just as when he'd had his GF pickpocketed out on the Alcaud Plains.

"But if you really want to play like that, then I'm game!"

A surge of crackling electricity suddenly shot through his dominant arm. It spread to the gunblade, forming a shimmering aura around the weapon; the hum from it was audible even amid the thrashing of the hound below. He raised it, and sliced it through the air before him. A shockwave materialized along its arc and shot forward. Squall blocked it in mid-flight; his insulated leather gloves spared him as the current traveled down his own blade. He backpedaled as Seifer fired off several more in rapid succession.

"Let's see how many volts you can take this time!" Seifer cackled.

He continued backing him around the walkway at a leisurely pace, frivolously expending the power given to him by Edea. The tables had turned. Squall was officially on the run, unable to move in for a counterattack. Even if he somehow were to clear the gap, he would never be able to contend with a mixed variety of shockwave attacks and standard slashes. Be it from close or long range, Seifer now held a massive advantage in their duel.

Finally, one slipped through his defense. The agony was just as he remembered it from the D-District Prison. He grit his teeth to hold back a scream, but to no avail. He spasmed in place before his legs gave out, sending him falling to his knees. His gunblade clanked as it hit the linoleum floor; he'd just barely managed to retain hold of it in both hands. As he knelt there, still reeling from the shock, he understood he'd never get in close enough to use it. And yet, as the onslaught briefly subsided, Squall realized there was indeed one aspect of Seifer's method of attack he'd forgotten to account for.

"Ah, the memories," his rival reminisced as he strode forward. "Was it good for you, too?"

"Is… is that all you've got?" he egged him on. "Biggs put me through much worse than that after you left. Either quit half-assing it, or quit wasting my time."

Seifer's smirk immediately became a scowl. It was enough to put a smile on Squall's own face. He picked himself back up from the floor, hoisting up his gunblade with what strength he could still muster.

"You want it?" the belligerent blonde raged, extending his own weapon out to the side of the walkway. "You've got it!"

The Hyperion's gleaming aura intensified further as Seifer pumped even more energy into it. The humming rose in pitch to become a shrill whistle, piercing through the three-headed dog's incessant roars. Squall knew he could never hope to survive the voltage now contained within. But then, neither would the gunblade itself.

The trigger grip exploded. Seifer let out a yelp as he let it fall from his hand, and watched with horror as it tumbled over the edge. Stupefied, he stood there with his arm still held upright; the electrical surge running through had completely dissipated. Squall seized the opportunity. He charged in while his rival was still distracted, and slammed him on the back with the hilt of his own gunblade. Seifer lurched forward, letting out a grunt as his stomach slammed into the railing. Not allowing him time to recover, Squall quickly ducked down behind him, hoisted up his legs, and tossed him clear over. He cried out in alarm as he plummeted down to the main floor.

Over the years since he'd begun training with the gunblade, Squall had repeatedly been told the same thing from his instructors: to always be cautious when channeling his GF's fire energy in the field. The weapon's standard explosive rounds were volatile. If exposed to enough concentrated heat, the propellant contained within the cartridges would be bound to ignite. Seifer, who'd hardly ever used his own GF since passing certification, to speak nothing of lightning spellcraft, had neglected the ramifications of channeling so much electricity into his weapon. The resultant heat had caused every round in the gunblade's loaded clip to detonate at once.

With the way clear, he tore back around the upper rim to Edea's position. Below, the fight still raged on. The hound had certainly sustained damage; gaping divots dotted its scaly hide from its three heads to its tail. The four patches of foliage arrayed around the center were fully ablaze, as well as several other isolated spots across the hall's diameter. Zell whipped around on his T-Board, vying to draw the beast's attention. Quistis rode behind, hurling ice spellcraft. Irvine circled opposite, taking pot-shots whenever he could. Selphie stood a ways off to the side; her pale-green rabbit familiar sat atop her hair, firing bursts of holy energy from the ruby ingrained into its head. Try as he might, he couldn't locate Rinoa among the commotion.

Just let her be safe…

He stopped barely 10 feet away from Edea as she turned to him. Remarkably, even without her attention, the beast below carried on unabated. It was as if she were not the one in control at all, but rather had set GF loose to act of its own volition.

"I must say, I am disappointed," she spoke to him. “After so much anticipation, not even the commandant can be bothered to come face me herself?”

Squall’s nerves evaporated on the spot, giving way to confusion. And then, just as quickly, relief washed over him.

“I guess you’re not much of a clairvoyant, after all,” he responded, raising his gunblade. “Commandant Squall Leonhart, at your service. Please, Matron. Don’t you remember me? I don’t want to fight you, but…”

"You?” Edea scoffed. “Commandant? Don’t make me laugh. Were that true, I wouldn't have bothered sparing you that night for interrogation. But alas, you stand before me once more, just as fate has decreed. Mark my words, I will not make the same mistake again."

He hadn't long to ponder her words. A fireball had already begun forming in her hand; it intensified far more rapidly than any he'd ever conjured. He prepared to block with his gunblade as it flew forward, only for it to evaporate into mist before it reached him. A concentrated torrent of water had intercepted the blast in mid-air. He turned his head to see Rinoa standing there by his side.

"Gotta make sure you don't go soft on her," she told him. A fire all her own raged behind her eyes.

"Impudent child!" Edea snapped.

From her outstretched hands formed yet another spell, this time a ball of dark energy. Squall charged in, hoping to land a strike before she could unleash the attack. As with the fireball however, it had materialized almost instantaneously. It suddenly exploded forth from within her hands. Swathes of dark energy not unlike Seifer's shockwaves indiscriminately flew out at them. Squall stalled in his tracks, and flattened his feet, still holding his weapon upright to shield himself. The first to connect with his blade quickly dissipated after impact. Another zoomed in just off his right side, and nicked his shoulder; he winced in pain as it sheared through his leather jacket like a razor blade through paper.

Working at speed, he drudged up the energy necessary to form a reflective barrier. The maroon veil flashed in front of him moments later. He pushed his way forward against the attack, his shield managing to hold up against the dark scattershot. As he drew near, Edea finally dispelled the conjuration. She took a step back, and readied herself to lunge forward at him. Squall recognized the danger; though his defense could reflect incoming magical blasts, it would do nothing to guard against spellcraft materializing from within. He recalled when she'd physically seized hold of Deling, and electrocuted him atop the Presidential Residence. She swiped at him. He sidestepped, working to place more distance between them yet again.

It was then that Rinoa made her charge. She reached Edea the next moment, and fired a fist at her. The sorceress pulled back just enough to evade the hook, but not the low jab which followed. She gagged at the blow to her stomach, and doubled over. Rinoa simply stood in place, beaming with pride.

"Get away!" Squall yelled.

It was too late. Edea's hand shot up, seizing Rinoa by the throat. The girl's eyes went wide as the sorceress' clawing fingers slowly tightened around her neck. Her arms went limp as a red aura suddenly spread all along her body, engulfing her from head to toe. Squall hoisted his gunblade up again, prepared to slice her arm off if need be. The other just as quickly redirected itself at him. He was abruptly knocked back by an invisible force, just as in Timber when she'd first appeared before them.

"This time, I'll see to your end myself!" Edea sneered. "I think a slow, painful one is in order."

Rinoa gagged in response, continuing to lose strength by the second. And yet, Edea's wicked yellow eyes stayed trained to Squall. She kept her free hand outstretched to him, upholding the unseen barrier between them. Even should spellcraft be able to pass through, unleashing a fire blast would require him to dispel his reflective shield, leaving him vulnerable. Edea no doubt knew this as well as he did. He'd been trapped in a corner, forced to decide between his own safety and Rinoa's. It was an easy choice to make.

He rose to his feet, preparing to dispel his protection. Before he could, a gleaming ball of light suddenly shot up from the bottom floor. Edea's golden back-piece shattered on impact. The spokes broke off, and fell to the floor with a raucous clanging. The sorceress herself was next to follow. She relased her grip on Rinoa's throat as she tumbled over; the red aura dispersed from around her body as she did so. The girl dropped to her knees in exhaustion, gasping for air.

Bewildered, Squall raced over to the railing, and looked down. The three-headed dog lay still on the far side of the hall; wispy trails of gleaming energy rose from the carcass, intermingling with the smoke as it drew near the glass dome above. Zell, Quistis, and Irvine all stood circled around it. Selphie meanwhile stood just beyond the center, with her eyes raised to him. Her Guardian Force was still perched atop her head.

"Is Rinoa alright?!" she yelled up.

He turned his head back to check. His eyes went wide as she hauled Edea up from the floor, wrapping her arms under the sorceress', and forcefully marched her to the railing. She still appeared to be in a daze as she was shuffled forward; clearly the blast had been potent.

"Hit her with another one!" Rinoa shouted as loudly as she could. "Quick!"

Squall couldn't believe her brazenness. Directly charging Edea had been bold enough, but even attempting to restrain her bordered on suicidal. Indeed, with how powerful Selphie's holy energy was, the chance of her being caught up in it was very real. He opened his mouth to tell her to let go, when he noticed the rabbit's gemstone had already begun charging up. The wheels were in motion. He ducked down beneath the banister for cover, and prepared to leap in at the first sign of things becoming too much for Rinoa to handle.

A concentrated beam blasted straight into Edea's chest. The sorceress screamed in anguish as it shredded through her skin-tight dress, continuing to intensify by the second. Selphie was evidently pouring all she had into the attack. Rinoa clung on behind for dear life; she strained as she fought to keep Edea in place, but did not falter. The glare soon became too much for Squall's eyes. He shielded them as the blast grew brighter, eventually coming to encompass the entire vicinity. Even firmly shut tight and buried in his arm, the white light seeped in beneath his eyelids.

Finally, it subsided. He brought down his arm. He creaked open his eyes. There, on the edge of the now destroyed railing, stood Edea and Rinoa. The sorceress appeared utterly shattered, the front of her dress reduced to limp tatters. The girl was slumped against her back with her head buried. Her arms fell limply from their grip on either side. And then, whether by her own momentum or Edea's sheer exhaustion, the two toppled forward. Down they went to the hall below.

Squall's heart leapt into his throat as he saw them tumble over. He promptly jumped to his feet, and then over the side of the banister himself. He barely remembered to conjure a flotation buffer just before he touched down. Selphie and the others were already moving in; the green rabbit atop her head finally fizzled back into a white silhouette, and blinked out of existence. For all the energy she'd expended on the blast, he desperately hoped she'd conserved enough to resuscitate Rinoa if need be.

To his delight however, the girl groggily picked herself up off Edea's body beneath her, and stumbled to her feet. She looked plenty disoriented, but otherwise appeared to be no worse for wear from the fall. She slowly dragged herself away from the scene with her eyes trained to the floor. Even as Selphie reached her and began asking if she was alright, she simply pushed her way past without a word. There was no longer any sign of her usual optimism about her. It was obvious she needed to properly rest and recuperate; any soldier would after what she'd been through on this day, much less one without years of training under their belt.

He let her amble away, and set his sights back on Edea. Zell and Irvine had reached her side; they hoisted her up into a seated position against the wall, each restraining one arm. Quistis and Selphie stood at the ready with their whip and nunchaku drawn. Squall sidled his way between them, and moved forward to confront her. Shallow breathing escaped her lips, assuring him that she hadn't been killed by the blast, nor the fall. He extended his gunblade, holding it just under her neck. She groaned weakly as she craned her neck up to face him. Her eyes slowly opened. Squall's breath caught in his throat as they met his.

The fierce yellow glare had completely vanished from her pupils. In its place was the same soothing, emerald green he remembered so vividly from Ellone's vision of the past. Her gaze suddenly darted every which way between the five of them, before settling on him once again. Or so he'd assumed; with a sudden burst of light from his peripheral vision, he realized she'd in fact been looking past him. The horrified looks on Zell and Irvine's faces as they followed her line of vision convinced him to turn around. His jaw dropped as he did.

The leviathan towered over them in the center of the hall. Its body extended well above the upper rim, nearly to meet the glass domed ceiling. It screeched its familiar battle cry, just as it had in Norg's chamber. Squall simply stared up in awe at the mighty sea serpent, dumbfounded by its arrival. He swiftly dipped his eyes down to see Rinoa standing just before its scaly underbelly, silver sphere in hand. With little more than a month's worth of training, she'd managed to summon the creature. He was utterly astounded, baffled even.

Even so, the battle was over. Edea had been summarily defeated, and was now a prisoner of SeeD. There was no more need to call upon the power of her Guardian Force, especially when the five of them were now grouped so closely together with their enemy. And yet, as the leviathan drew back and opened its jaw, he realized the true danger they were in.

"Rinoa, stop!" he yelled.

Regardless of whether she had any control over the creature, his plea fell on deaf ears. The high-pressure torrent shot from the serpent's mouth. It slammed into him like a truck, knocking him clear off his feet and into the wall with the rest of his comrades. His gunblade flew from his hands. His reflective barrier had been of little use; there was no amount of energy he could muster to hold off an assault so overpowering. The surge continued to spew forth. It washed him away like a tidal wave, sending him spinning in every conceivable direction. He no longer had any reference of where he was in the great hall. And as the force of several more blows against the walls knocked what little wind he had left from his lungs, all slowly went dark.

Chapter Text

The snow crinkled under Laguna's boots; its uneven texture forced him to put more care into each step as he pushed onward and upward. His heavy parka was all that shielded him against the constant chill. No matter his efforts however, the wind remained merciless. He was swiftly toppled over yet again, falling to one knee. And again, a hand reached out to help him back up.

He followed the arm up to its wide, muscular torso, and from there to his friend's face. The river-like scar trailing down from his temple was the same. So too were the piercing blue eyes beneath his coat's hood. And yet, where so long ago he would have expected an unimpressed frown, there was only compassion. Neither was there any smart remark with regard to him repeatedly losing his footing. Indeed, Ward no longer had the capacity to do so, which only made Laguna all the more disappointed not to hear it. His other friend obliged him in short order.

"Ellone's going to be so impressed," Kiros smirked as he came up on his other side.

"Better believe it!" Laguna played off the jab. He took Ward's hand, and pulled himself back to his feet.

It had been roughly a month since he'd departed from Winhill. Not a day went by that he didn't ache to be by Raine's side again. But then, without Ellone, how could things ever be the same? He'd fully committed himself to bringing her back, and had sworn as much to his beloved that night. No mountain, however steep and treacherous, would stand in his way. With travel across the Horizon Bridge completely cut off, it was their only viable route into Esthar.

After collecting the payment for his last article, much of which they'd spent on hiking equipment and apparel, Laguna and his crew had set off along the north-bound express line for Dollet. From there, they'd caught a ferry across the sea to the town of Grendel on the Eldbeak Peninsula. They'd rented a set of snowmobiles the next morning, and begun a grueling, week-long journey across the Hawkind Plains to Trabia. Nights had been uncomfortably frigid, even with the insulated tent they'd shared along the way. Wildlife had largely stayed clear of them; the occasional snow lion to run across their path had been no match for Laguna's machine gun.

They'd finally sprung for a hotel upon reaching the city, and after several days of recuperation, were back on the road again. It had taken just as long to make their way so far out into the Bika Snowfield. However tumultuous the journey had been thus far, Laguna understood just how much more there still was to go. And yet, there was no doubt in his mind whether they would make it. For the first time in more than 2 years, he'd rediscovered the camaraderie he'd left behind with his position in the army. No matter the challenges in store for them beyond the Vienne Mountains, there was no one else he would rather face them alongside. And this time, for a cause he knew was worth fighting for.

The pass soon led them to a scenic overlook of the forested plains in the distance. Esthar lay in wait several hundred miles further. It was a journey they'd committed to taking on foot; the increasingly steep incline had forced them to abandon their snowmobiles further down the range. It mattered little to Laguna. He would travel any distance for Ellone, by any means. As he surveyed the road ahead however, one obstacle to dwarf all others towered above the frosted landscape.

A gargantuan rectangular prism hovered in place over the plains. Even from so many miles away, its sheer size was staggering; it stretched up high enough to rival several of the surrounding mountains. Besides the fact that it was floating, its dark metallic frame implied it to be a man-made construct. Laguna couldn't imagine the amount of effort that must have gone into building it. Neither could he tell its origin at first glance. The crescent moon shaped emblem emblazoned on its fore was his only clue; that he could see it clearly even from so far away was a testament to the structure's size.

"What is that?" Kiros spoke for him.

"That's… big."

Truly, there were no other words he could muster. As he glanced sideways to Ward, he could tell it was the same for him, regardless of his inability to verbalize them. Suddenly, all began to darken. Laguna turned his gaze up, expecting to see a cloud having passed in front of the sun. Instead, the calm blue sky had been overtaken by a blood-red hue.

"What the hell?!" he reeled.

"Look!" Kiros blurted out.

Laguna followed his friend's outstretched finger back to the massive monolith in the distance. High above, a thick red stream shot down from the heavens, plummeting to earth like a meteor. Whatever its true nature, he recognized their impending doom speeding closer by the second.

"Get down!"

He hit the deck. Kiros and Ward followed suit without hesitation. The deafening explosion came moments later, utterly shattering the mountain range's calm. Despite being untold miles away, the blast's momentum still reached him. He dug his fingers deep into the snow against the gale-force wind, fighting to stay in place. Ultimately, his efforts were for naught. He was swept away, and sent hurtling back down the mountain trail, twisting and turning as he tumbled over and over. His head was spinning. His ears were ringing. And sure enough, as he continued to tumble, his vision shortly followed. He slipped into blackness, desperately clinging to what little hope there still was of seeing his darling daughter again.

Wait for me, Ellone…

END OF VOLUME II

Chapter Text

The boy's heart pounded in his chest. He sucked in short, panicked breaths through his mouth, making his best effort to stay quiet. He'd overheard the commotion from moments before, and had come outside to investigate. Having seen what he'd saw, he could barely bring himself to peek his head back out from behind the stone pillar for another look. Still, he pushed through the fear. He carefully sidled himself around to peer out at the scene unfolding beyond the orphanage's front porch.

There, upon the ivy-covered trail running from the steps and across the grounds, stood Matron. By her side was a man he'd never seen before. His clothes were torn and tattered, his face beaten and bloodied. Either hand held a sword, both gleaming crimson in the midday sun. Off to the side, slumped against the nearby stone annex, lay Squall. He'd been in Matron's arms when the boy had first arrived on the scene, unconscious then just as now. A woman in a tarnished scarlet dress slunk along the path towards them, inch by agonizing inch. The mysterious swordsman continued to hold both his blades at the ready as she drew closer.

And yet, it was Matron who next stepped forward; her face showed not an inkling of fear as she reached the wounded woman. She outstretched her arms, beckoning for her to take her hand. As she did so, a radiant light suddenly came over her, growing more intense by the second. The boy hurriedly swiveled back behind the pillar to shield his eyes, and potentially himself from whatever was about to happen. There he stayed, hunched over in dread anticipation for minutes on end. When he again found the courage to peek back out, the woman was gone; her discarded red dress lying on the ground was all that remained.

Matron's attention had turned away to the man, with Squall once again cradled within her arms. How it galled him to see such a thing; to think that had been him once, when it had been just the two of them in the beginning. As the boy continued to stew in his jealousy, he realized too late that the swordsman's eyes had flitted clear past her. They now stared straight at him poking out from behind the column. He just as quickly ducked out of sight again, his heart resuming its frantic pounding, and considered darting back into the house. It was clear he'd seen something he shouldn't have. He trained his ears, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps crinkling on the ivy. There were none. Satisfied, he risked one more peek around the pillar. What he saw left him astonished.

With a swing of one of his swords, the man cleaved a visible slice in the open air before him. It widened into an open portal the next moment, beyond which was pure darkness. He turned back to Matron for one last look, nodded, and stepped on through. It closed behind him, leaving her standing there holding Squall's limp body, gazing into the distance as if in a trance. The boy couldn't help but do the same. And as his imagination proceeded to run wild, dreaming up one fantastical explanation after another for who the man might have been, an ambition to last the rest of his life was born.

Seifer kept his grip tight on the chair's arm, rhythmically clenching his fingers. A glance to his left assured him that Raijin was every bit as on edge. An uncomfortable silence hung between them, and over the whole of the infirmary lobby save for some occasional shuffling from the student receptionist's desk. So they'd sat for several hours now. Other students had come and gone, admitted and discharged at regular intervals by members of the volunteer medical staff. Dr. Kadowaki herself had been unavailable to oversee any of their releases. Only after more than an hour spent in the operating wing had she re-emerged with several more med students, wheeling out a still sedated Fujin on a stretcher into the infirmary proper.

It had been an accident, courtesy of their most heated argument yet. Fujin's contention: Seifer being an ungrateful friend to her and Raijin. She'd practically shouted him down, accusing him of treating the two of them like a pair of disposable peons unfit to stand on his level. What's more, she'd been right. Their association had been one born out circumstance, as three like-minded delinquents who'd routinely shared detention together. They'd grown close with time, too close for Seifer's comfort, in fact. He'd long become apathetic to the concept of camaraderie since having been ripped away from Matron all those years ago, single-mindedly fixated on his own needs and no one else's; it was all he could do to cope with the persistent sting of abandonment. The slight had hit him dead center, prompting an instinctual rage to flare up at the prospect of having been exposed. He'd promptly denied it, and demanded she never speak to him like that again. She'd refused. They'd fought it out, Raijin trying his best to play mediator all the while. With one failed counter on Fujin's part, the damage was done.

As he continued to ruminate on what had happened, the door to the recovery wing hissed open again. Dr. Kadowaki stepped out, and turned her attention along the wall to the two of them.

"How… how is she?" Seifer nervously asked as he rose out of the chair.

"Her condition is stable," the doctor dispassionately spoke. "That's the good news."

"And the bad?"

"I'm sure you can guess."

Dr. Kadowaki's eyes looked sternly into his. The implication in her gaze was clear: she'd been able to tell the wound's true origin. He and Raijin had passed it off as having come from a slip out on the rocky shoreline due south. Regardless of whether Fujin would have divulged the truth when she'd woken up, he should have known better than to expect the story to fool a trained professional. He'd even considered making a detour back to his room to leave behind his gunblade, so as not to further incriminate himself. With the severity of the injury however, there had been no time to dawdle. And now, having been caught in the lie, he understood this was one instance where he couldn't so easily shirk responsibility. It made no difference; he'd already made up his mind to apologize to her the moment she regained consciousness.

"Well, how's she doin', y'know?" Raijin cut in. "Is she awake?"

"She is," Dr. Kadowaki sighed in return. "Won't speak a word to me, though."

"Can we see her?" Seifer asked anxiously; that Fujin hadn't said anything yet was his only hope left to potentially avoid any repercussions.

"As long as it's quick. Visiting hours are almost up."

With a nod of thanks, he trudged on by into the sterile white recovery wing. A quick scan over the few occupied beds was all it took to locate Fujin. She lay back against the pillow, her silver hair virtually blending in with the cover's hue. Bandages had been wound around her entire forehead, with a thick patch covering her left eye. As he and Raijin drew closer, he began to reconsider if any apology, no matter how sincere, could be sufficient. If someone he'd considered a friend had done the same to him, would he have it in him to forgive? And yet, no matter if his efforts were in vain, he knew he had to try.

"Hey," he greeted Fujin, taking a seat at her bedside. "How're you holding up?"

Her remaining functional eye turned to him, visibly red and puffy. Seconds passed in awkward silence as Seifer continued to grasp for something, anything, to break the tension.

"Listen, Fujin… I'm sorry," he finally spoke. "And not just about your eye. You were right. I haven't been fair to you two. It's just that… well, I've never really had anyone I could call a friend before. I've never known what it's like to let someone get that close to you, or how you're supposed to treat them. I guess that's something I'll have to work on. I need to change. I know I can. And I swear I'll prove it to you, if you'll give me the chance."

Already, the act of making himself so vulnerable was further outside of his comfort zone than he'd ever dared to tread. Fujin continued to stare up at him with her lips pursed. At last, they parted.

"Why?"

The response was terse, monotone, and unexpectedly concise. For someone who loved to run her mouth as much as she always did around him, hearing her say so little for once unnerved him.

"Because I want to," he insisted. "Because I value our friendship, and appreciate all the times you've had my back. I just wish we didn't have to be at each other's throats like this. We're a posse, right? So, what do you say? Can we work this out?"

He meant what he'd said. Although he knew he couldn't expect to sort out his trust issues overnight, two people would be a good start.

"Maybe," she answered. Again, not a word more.

"I'm all about second chances, y'know?" Raijin piped up. "But it's your choice, Fujin. I get that it's a lot to let slide, y'know?"

Seifer understood as much himself; losing an eye at only 13 was something he couldn't begin to fathom. However she decided, he was prepared to respect her wishes.

"Promise?"

She sat up in bed, and turned to look him in the eye. Were she truly inclined to forgive, her face certainly didn't show it. Nor did her continued insistence on speaking in one word bursts assure him that there were no hard feelings. Whatever the reason however, Seifer had to admit it was a refreshing change of pace.

I could probably get used to this.

"Sure. I'll do my best to support you guys, as long as you're willing do the same for me. You get as good as you give, right?"

Her eye fell away to the sheets below, seemingly in contemplation. Moments later, it swiveled back up again, accompanied by a gentle smile.

"Right."

Seifer heaved Rinoa's limp body off him as he rose from the wet floor, his own still aching but slightly from the tumble he'd taken off the upper balcony. His entire outfit had been completely drenched by the sea serpent's massive torrent of water; even now, it continued to drain out of the flooded atrium and down the adjacent hallways. Scouring the ground around him, it wasn't long before he spotted his gunblade, its grip exploded outward. Without the proper materials and expertise needed to repair it, he doubted the weapon's trigger would ever function again. He begrudgingly snatched it up, stored it in his sopping wet jacket, and darted his eyes about the atrium to get his bearings.

All around, the ravaged first level lay bare its devastation. The central directory and surrounding foliage was no more; the monstrous three headed hound had all but disappeared into the ether with the leviathan; and strewn all along the walls were the bodies of Squall and his retinue. Whether they were unconscious, dead, or simply too fatigued to rise, he knew he couldn't afford to waste time. He set his sights on Selphie, and promptly dashed across to her side, his boots kicking up water every step of the way. Relieved she'd indeed been knocked out, he knelt down by her side, and quickly searched her outfit from head to waist.

He eventually pulled the sphere out of her breast pocket. Immediately, he was perplexed; its bronze casing was unlike any other he'd ever seen. As he spun it around in his hand, his eyes bulged as the Galbadian insignia printed on it came into focus. Was it possible he had the wrong sphere? A glimpse of the brilliant holy energy shining within convinced him otherwise; as Edea had told him, there could be only one such sphere of its kind. Why this girl had it rather than Xu was something he couldn't understand, but for whatever reason, she did. More importantly, his time was running short; he needed to get moving. He depressed the switches on the top and bottom, prompting both halves to re-seal.

Pocketing the sphere, he made a beeline for the starboard side hall, slowing only as he noticed Edea passed out on the floor nearby. There she lay defenseless, her dress torn to ribbons, her golden back piece shattered. As much as it pained him to leave her behind, she'd already reassured him it was all part of the plan. His assistance would be needed elsewhere in the meantime. With one last look at the woman who'd raised him as her own, he raced out of the atrium and down the corridor.

He swiftly maneuvered through the halls, making his way in the direction of the hangar bay. Although he could be reasonably certain all the aerial mechs had been deployed, he knew there ought to be at least a few leftover motorcycles he could commandeer. Still, he needed a way of signaling disengagement to those troops capable of doing so. The magic bestowed to him by Edea might suffice for a brilliant enough flare, provided he still had enough energy in reserve; its power being finite, it was imperative he not squander whatever was left. As he continued to ponder, another solution swiftly made itself known, courtesy of a fast approaching argument from the intersecting corridor up ahead.

"Please, sir, be reasonable about this!"

"Shut it, Wedge! Soon as I find somewhere less steep to deploy from, I'm outta he-"

Seifer drew his gunblade as he turned the corner. The pair of soldiers stopped in their tracks as the weapon slashed through the air, the one in front nearly losing his hold on the motorcycle he'd been walking along. Even without any distinguishing characteristics about their uniforms, he didn't need to ask for their names and ranks.

"Perfect timing," he smirked. He lowered his gunblade, and ambled over to take the handlebars from Biggs. "Gather what supplies you can, send up the retreat signal, and tell the first respondents to start heading southeast for the Vienne Mountains. Parachute. Now."

"What's going on?" the disgraced former officer protested. All the same, he pulled the pack off his back as ordered and extended it to him. "You're telling us we're just gonna turn tail and run?!"

"And what exactly did you have in mind?" he snapped, gesturing to the motorcycle. "Hurry up and get a move on, and stay clear of the atrium if you know what's good for you. See you at the base of the mountains. I'll be expecting a tent."

Not giving Biggs a chance to respond, Seifer pushed on by him and Wedge with the bike and parachute, making his way back to the hangar. His mission was clear, his determination resolute. So long as he could still be of service to his liege, to the only mother he'd ever known, so he would be. He refused to stoop to the level of Squall and the others, who'd been content to simply toss whatever gratitude they'd once held for her away. He was different. So he'd always known from that fateful day when he'd witnessed what he had in front of the orphanage. Just as that man who'd been standing by Matron's side in the face of danger then, so would he be there to serve her now. He had become the sorceress' knight.

Chapter Text

With a series of brilliant flares shooting into the early morning sky, the enemy's rear forces had abruptly pulled back. What troops had been able to heed the call by way of their aerial mechs and motorcycles had reportedly diverted back towards Galbadia Garden, before retreating due southeast en masse. The infantry already on the ground inside Balamb Garden had been left out to dry; absent their rear guard, they'd eventually been closed in on both sides, drawing the battle of the Gardens to a close. Those who'd surrendered had been swiftly rounded up and taken into custody.

Victory was far too glowing a term for the outcome; although Balamb's forces had ultimately managed to repel the enemy, their own losses had been severe. The infirmary could find no more room to house all the wounded. Those not in critical condition were simply hauled in, given a rush treatment, and returned to their respective rooms in the dormitories for recuperation. In the distance, out on the snowswept plains through the wide bay window, the remains of Trabia Garden continued to smolder from the phoenix firebombing. A detachment had been sent out to search for survivors, yet to return.

Squall remained standing before Headmaster Cid's desk, taking in the briefing as it was relayed to him. He'd certainly seen none of it firsthand; he and his comrades had essentially been left stranded aboard the floating enemy Garden, until they'd managed to set it down from the command deck. He'd awoken from having taken the leviathan's blast, disoriented and utterly confused. That Rinoa had even been able to summon the creature after a mere month of training was astounding; it had taken a full year for him to do the same. More impressive still, the jet stream had been powerful enough to blast clean through his conjured barrier field, sweeping him and the rest of his team off their feet with the torrent.

She'd clearly poured far more energy into the summon than she could handle, resulting in immense physical and mental exhaustion. Unsurprisingly, she'd been the only one still unconscious by the time he himself had come to, and likewise the only one among them unresponsive to Quistis' CPR efforts. That she still had a steady heartbeat was their only cause for relief. The rest of his team, though appropriately aching and rattled, were ultimately no worse for wear. Only Seifer still remained unaccounted for; they'd scoured the Garden up to the command deck, completely vacant by the time they'd arrived, and found no trace of him.

And then, there was Edea. On cue, a knock at the door cut him off.

"Come in!" the headmaster called.

The door opened right away, through which stepped his squad, one after another. Zell and Irvine brought up the rear on either side of their captive. The blonde had removed his jacket, having loaned it to her for the sake of keeping her face out of sight from the student body at large. Similarly, a swathe of bandages had been wrapped tightly around her torso, shielding her exposed chest courtesy of the shredded skintight dress. As she passed through into the office, and finally lowered the jacket from around her head, her eyes turned to the headmaster. They were still the same gentle green Squall remembered so fondly, regardless of the network of grotesque veins spreading from her cheeks on either side.

"Cid," she breathed in seeming disbelief.

"Edea!" he called her name in turn, rising from his chair.

Throwing all caution to the wind, he immediately rounded the desk and raced forward to meet her. Despite his better judgment, Squall allowed him to go ahead; the tears already welling up in Edea's eyes convinced him that his squad's intervention wouldn't be necessary. The two joined in a tight embrace, neither showing any sign of letting go anytime soon. For however emotionally distraught his wife was, Cid's face peeking over her shoulder hardly looked better. Intent on giving them space, Squall ambled over to Irvine by the door, and looked him dead in the eyes. Evidently, the implication was clear to see.

"She's alright," Irvine told him. "They're just gonna give her a quick look over, and then set her up in her room."

"Any change in her condition?" he asked.

"Not yet."

Disappointing as it was to hear, he'd known better than to expect anything else. Rinoa was far from the first GF trainee to bite off more than they could chew; based on what previous instances he'd heard of, she likely wouldn't be back on her feet until at least the next day.

"I'm… so sorry," Edea whimpered as she finally released her arms from around Cid. "To all of you. I'm so ashamed. Please believe me… I never meant for any of this to happen. To think, I raised you all as my own, and yet…"

"Why don't you sit down, dear?" Cid motioned to the chair opposite his desk.

Taking a deep breath, she shuffled over and seated herself at his request. The headmaster circled back around to the other side, taking his own seat before the window. Squall silently motioned for Irvine and Zell to remain standing by the door, before turning around the desk himself to take his place where Xu always had. Quistis and Selphie stood to Edea's rear on either side, their eyes locked to her.

Such precautions were still much too meager given her tremendous power; Squall now desperately wished he'd had the foresight to take a set of the Odine Industries-manufactured bangles with him from the prison. All the same, she'd been perfectly cooperative ever since recovering from the sea serpent's attack. She'd even provided them with the keycard needed to access Galbadia Garden's command deck, having supposedly 'discovered' it in her dress pocket. Were it all indeed an act, she'd yet to slip up.

His inclination to believe her went beyond good faith alone, however. The change in her eyes had been so much more than yellow to green. Gone was the malice, the bloodlust, or any inkling of wickedness he'd seen in them before. The difference was night and day; this woman couldn't possibly be the same sorceress who'd wrought so much death and destruction in the last 6 weeks. For however much she still resembled that fearsome woman in appearance, there could be no doubt about it: this was the kindly Matron they'd known and loved all those years ago.

"Just relax," Cid reassured his wife. "Squall's already given me a report of what happened. I understand now that none of it was your fault. And remember that I'll still always love you, no matter what. So, please, Edea… tell us everything you know."

She raised her eyes from the floor, tears still spilling down her pallid face. Her gaze briefly swiveled to Squall, lingering on him for a moment before pivoting back to her husband. Unbelievable though her explanation had been, it was clear to Squall that this raw emotion was no facade.

"It… it wasn't my fault," she eked out as she wiped her face. "I've always known that another sorceress war would arrive one day, and that there would need to be an army standing at the ready to fight it. But… never in my wildest dreams could I have expected things to turn out like this. All this time, I've been… possessed. By a force more powerful than any I've ever known: Sorceress Ultimecia."

Stony silence fell over the headmaster's office. The notion was no less insane than when she'd first told them as much. Who exactly this new sorceress was, or how she'd been able to allegedly take control of Edea's body, she'd yet to elaborate on. Whatever the case, Squall was eager to hear her explanation.

"Ultimecia?" Cid repeated.

"Yes," Edea continued, lowering her eyes again. "She is a sorceress from the future, many generations beyond our own time."

"And how do you know this?" he immediately followed up; evidently, his concern for his wife did not take priority over his need for sensible answers.

"I… I felt her presence come over me one day, trying to wrest control of my body. In doing so, a channel was opened between our minds. I fought back as best I could, and was briefly able to catch a glimpse of her own in the process. That's how I learned her identity, and of her ultimate goal. Even as I resisted, she was gradually forcing her way through my memory, trying to find any information she could on Ellone's whereabouts. There was no way I could hold her off forever. And so, in my desperation to keep her from seeing any more of what I knew, I had to… detach from myself, and recede from my conscious mind. It was the only way to cut her off from my memory, at the cost of giving her full control of my body. I don't remember anything after that. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor, surrounded by these five."

As she continued to expound, Squall pondered how Edea could potentially have detached herself as she claimed. Had it been the work of a spell she'd invoked? Or perhaps a case akin to Dissociative Identity Disorder, in which her mind had developed a separate personality specifically to act as a vessel for this other sorceress? Regardless of how she'd managed it however, he otherwise had little difficulty believing her story; he already knew too well the experience of having inhabited another person's mind in the past.

"I don't understand," Quistis interjected from behind. "Why would this other sorceress be after Ellone?"

"For the sake of her special power," Edea answered. "Ellone has the ability to manipulate the energy frequencies of a person's consciousnesses, and even overlay them with others. By doing so, she can send herself or anyone else into another person's mind, at any point in their past."

"That's impossible!" Zell called out from the door.

"It's true," Squall finally spoke up. He swept his eyes across the room, meeting all those staring at him in turn. "She's done it to me. Those times before, when I would randomly pass out… that was her doing."

No one among his team dared say a word in response. He was content with their surprised, silent stares, and even more so with Edea's look of gratitude; she was clearly happy to have someone in her corner.

"I remember the first time I ever experienced it myself," she continued. "I'd pulled her aside over something back at the orphanage all those years ago. She must have invoked it out of compulsion, because the next thing I knew, I'd been thrust into the mind of her father."

A chill ran down Squall's spine as she detailed the scenario for them. Though he'd already experienced the same numerous times now, and even had Ellone confess to him that it had been her doing all along, Edea's testimony gave him further relief to know he wasn't simply going crazy.

"After that, I sat her down, and talked it all over with her. She told me she'd been abducted from her family and taken to Esthar years before. Clearly, Sorceress Adel must have also wanted this power for herself. Her father somehow managed to rescue her, and bring her back home. It's strange… I'd actually met him once before, and always wondered if he'd ever been able to get his daughter back. I certainly never would have expected her of all children to wind up on my doorstep one day."

Hearing so much of what he'd seen through Laguna's eyes corroborated by her was surreal. And yet, despite it all, he still had no idea what had happened to him and Raine, nor how he'd managed to get Ellone out of Esthar.

"And so, for her sake as much as yours, we decided to take her out of the orphanage," Cid finished for her. "We've done all we could over the years to keep her whereabouts obscured should anyone else come looking for her. But… how could we have expected something like this?"

"So, what's this future sorceress need her power for?" Irvine asked out of the blue. "Sounds like she's already got something like it herself."

Squall concurred; having already successfully possessed Edea, having Ellone's power at her disposal seemed all the more redundant.

"It seems that way," Edea agreed. "But that alone isn't enough for Ultimecia to achieve her ultimate goal."

"And what's that?" Zell egged her on.

She hesitated, took a deep breath, and answered him.

"Time compression."

"Time… compression?" Cid echoed her. "What does that mean?"

"She wants to reshape the world into a state where all of time, past, present, and future are condensed into one."

"What?!" Selphie blurted out. "Why? Why would anyone want to do something like that?"

Squall could hardly imagine a world existing as she'd described, much less guess at a motive for it. No matter its absurdity however, he continued to take Edea at her word. Indeed, it wasn't the first time they'd heard such a thing from her own mouth.

"The future… or perhaps the past? It is all the same to me. And so it shall be for all mankind, one day, very soon."

"I couldn't tell you her reason," she sighed. "I didn't manage to glimpse anything about that when I looked into her mind. All I know for sure is how she plans to make it happen. It is an extremely complex incantation, requiring the combined power of three separate sorceresses across three different time periods."

"And that's what she needs Ellone for?" Quistis interrupted. "To send herself further back from this period into the mind of a third sorceress?"

"Exactly. But it's not nearly so cut and dry as that."

"Cut and dry?" Zell moaned. "This is making my head spin!"

And I've got a feeling it's about to get worse…

"I'm afraid there's really no easy way of explaining this," Edea apologized. "I'll try to simplify it as best I can. To begin with, each sorceress' power carries its own unique frequency about it. Millennia ago, when The Great Hyne hid his magic away with the first generation of sorceresses, he bestowed each with only one individual strain of his full power. Before she can rest in piece, a sorceress must pass that power on to a successor, to ensure its continued subsistence in the world. It was the same in my case, when I received the holy gift from another sorceress at the age of 5."

It stunned Squall to learn she had been given the power at such a young age. All the same, he was reminded again of the sorceress from his youth, the one who'd come to the orphanage in search of Ellone all those years ago. Perhaps now, with Edea present to explain all, he would finally have some closure for the experience that had left him scarred.

"For Ultimecia's time compression spell to be successful, the three sorceresses must all share at least one common energy frequency between them. In her own time, she has already received my own, among many others through a long lineage of power transferal. And so, to complete the ritual, she would need to use Ellone in our time to send her consciousness back further, to another sorceress from my own line of inheritance. And therein lies the issue.

"The vast majority of sorceresses have lived in secret through the ages, keeping their power concealed from the public eye. There would be no record of those women she could possibly draw from. Furthermore, Ellone would have to be familiar with the sorceress in question in order to hone in on the exact frequency of her consciousness, and overlay Ultimecia's atop. Both of those factors together severely limit who she can potentially choose from. In other words, the third sorceress must be someone well enough recorded in history for Ultimecia to know of, and who Ellone has already had some prior affiliation with."

"Adel," Squall answered on the spot.

"Precisely," Edea lauded his intuition. "No one really knows what happened to her after the war ended. And unfortunately, I wasn't able to get a definitive answer from Ultimecia's mind before she began to overwhelm my own. Whether or not she is still alive in this time period however, it makes little difference. As I said before, a sorceress cannot rest in peace until she passes her power on to a successor. One way or another, that lineage, that strain of energy passed down from Hyne long ago continues to live on in this world. All Ultimecia would need to do is find whoever possesses it now, and force them to pass it on to me, uniting the two lines of inheritance here in the present. Then it would just be a matter of coercing Ellone to send her into Adel's mind in the past through me. You would have three sorceresses across three separate time periods, all bound by a common energy frequency, and sharing one unified consciousness. The ritual would be complete. There would be nothing left to stop her from achieving time compression."

"Man… this is some heavy stuff," Zell spoke in a deflated tone.

"I can't make heads or tails of any of it," Quistis admitted.

Squall could barely wrap his own mind around the explanation. Not even two months earlier, he wouldn't have entertained the notion that the sorceress power even existed. And yet, convoluted as it all was, he was now prepared to believe every word. If recent events had taught him anything, it was that nothing was truly impossible.

"I completely understand if it's too much to take in at once," Edea said. "But it's all been imprinted in my memory. There's no doubt about what she's planning."

"Well, she shouldn't be able to find Ellone so easily," Cid assured her. "She's safe with the White SeeDs. They're a resourceful bunch. I suppose the only question left to ask is why this Ultimecia has suddenly released her control on you. She must realize that leaving you alive to tell us everything will make her plan all the more difficult to carry out."

Squall had wondered the same from the very moment she'd first claimed to have been possessed. Her passion, gentle demeanor, and thoroughly detailed explanations had managed to quell his initial skepticism; he was convinced this was no act. But then, neither could he believe this alleged sorceress from the future, who'd staged her entire plot thus far so meticulously, would let such a glaring blunder slip by. There had to be a reason.

"I have no idea," Edea responded. "She could possess me again at any time. If that happens, I'll try my best to resist her again. But, if that fails…"

She trailed off. Her eyes dipped down to her hands, clenched side by side atop her lap in front of her.

"If she takes control of me again… then it falls to you to do whatever has to be done. She must be stopped, at any cost."

Squall averted his eyes from her, re-directing them to Cid at his side. The headmaster's face was dour, understandably so at the prospect of another attempt on his wife. A quick glance around the room told him that no one else among his team relished the thought either.

"No can do."

Irvine stepped forward from his spot by the door. His approach was steady, measured, and confident above all else, yet absent the usual swagger Squall had come to expect from him. He sidestepped past Selphie to come to Edea's side, and placed one hand on the top of her chair's back.

"Been there, done that, and I'm not about to go along with that same old song and dance again. But don't you worry about it, Matron. We'll find a way to stop her. That's a promise. Who else is with me?"

One by one, the others began to fall in around her; first Selphie and Quistis from behind, then Zell from the door. Squall looked to Cid for permission to join them, only to see him rise from his own chair and start around the desk. He followed after, coming to stand beside him and Quistis.

Bewildered, Edea gazed up and around at her husband and former children. Tears began welling in her eyes again. And then, in what must have been the most wholesome display of familial bonds ever seen at Balamb Garden, she swiftly stood up and embraced each of them in turn. Even Squall, ever adverse to sentimentality, felt perfectly at home in her arms. For however much comfort he hoped it might give her, he could also feel himself becoming more at ease with each passing second.

I guess… I needed this as much as her.

"Thank you," she said, wiping the tears away. "All of you. I'm so happy. And so very, very proud. I've raised many children over the years, but… you five really are special. You were born to do great things."

Squall turned his head away in embarrassment. He recalled her having told him the very same thing all those years ago, when he'd awakened from the 'nightmare' as she'd passed it off. He'd never been one to believe in fate, much less a higher power; such was anathema to the concept of self-determination he'd always lived by. Given all that he'd been proven ignorant of in recent days however, it was clear he still had so much more to learn of life's mysteries. Regardless of the truth behind it all, Edea had been right about him; he had come so far, and accomplished so much in such a short period of time.

"We'll be here to support you every step of the way," Quistis took the initiative. "You've done so much for us. Now, it's our turn."

"Yeah, we'll put that witch in her place somehow," Zell backed her up.

"I… I appreciate your enthusiasm," Edea smiled. "I only wish there was more I could tell you about her plan."

"Um, actually, Matron," Selphie suddenly interjected. "When you were looking through her mind… was there anything you saw about a special GF sphere?"

Squall furrowed his brow. He'd all but forgotten about the matter among the myriad other issues at hand. But then, she was right to bring it up; the sorceress had specifically made mention of it just before the confrontation, implying she knew of its origin.

"A… special sphere?" she asked with a puzzled look. The headmaster's expression was no different.

"Yeah, one made by Galbadia. I've had it for years, and she was acting like she knew something about…"

Selphie trailed off as she proceeded to rummage through a pocket on the fore of her uniform. Her eyes abruptly went wide, a look of horror coming over her face.

"Where is it?!" she panicked, patting down her entire uniform. "It's gone!"

"Calm down, Selphie," Irvine tried to talk her down. "It probably just fell out after we got hit with that tidal wave."

"Through a zipper?!" she shrilled. In a flash, she was out the door without another word.

"Hey, hold up!"

The sharpshooter was on her heels the next moment. He barely avoided bowling Zell over as he bolted into the grand hall after her.

"I suppose that's meeting adjourned then," Cid broke the awkward silence. "I'm sure we can discuss whatever she meant to later. For now, I'd like some time alone with Edea, if you all don't mind."

"Not at all, sir," Quistis replied. She saluted him before turning to Squall. "I guess we ought to help her look for it."

"You two go on ahead," he told her and Zell. "I want to check up on Rinoa first."

"I… I'd like one of you to stay, please," Edea insisted. "To stand guard outside the room. Like I said, there's no telling when Ultimecia might possess me again."

"Say no more, Matron!" Zell volunteered on the spot.

"Are you sure you can handle it?" Squall asked him. While he agreed Edea ought to have some kind of security detail on hand, he questioned whether the overly excitable blonde alone would be enough.

"Why not?" he frowned. "You don't trust me?"

Not nearly that much…

"I just think you might need some backup is all. You've seen what her power's like. I'd feel a lot better if there was more than one person on duty."

"I'll stay with him if that's what you're asking of me," Quistis spoke sternly. "Commandant."

The title pierced through his heart just as when she'd addressed him by it in the halls of Galbadia Garden. Just as then, the implication was clear; he needed to start living up to the responsibility he now carried.

"I'll be counting on you two," he firmly responded.

Evidently satisfied, Quistis saluted him, and began towards the door with Zell. Squall remained standing in place; there was still more he had to ask of Edea. He turned to her as his comrades stepped out of the room.

"These visions Ellone's been showing me lately… I've learned so many things from them," he started. "I saw the time you met her father. He was the one who inspired you to start up the orphanage, right?"

"That's… that's right," she flinched, clearly surprised he knew. "It was so much more than that, though. He gave me the courage to pick myself up out of the rut I'd been stuck in for so many years, and the motivation to make a difference in the world."

"I'll say!" Cid chuckled. "It was like night and day when I finally came home from my business trip. Up and out of the blue, she tells me she wants to start taking in all the orphaned children she can, without any prior experience of being a caretaker. I'd heard of women catching baby fever before, but this was on another level completely."

"Oh, stop!" she blushed, playfully slapping his arm.

"I was willing to humor you, though, wasn't I?" he joshed her back. "Anyway, I told her we ought to start slow, with just one child, and work our way up. That ended up being Seifer… he was our one and only for a couple of years until we were comfortable and financially secure enough to start expanding."

"So, Seifer was… your actual adopted son?" Squall asked for clarification.

"I suppose you could look at it that way," Edea answered. "For those first 2 or 3 years, at least. He was always special to me, and I certainly never would have dreamed of letting someone else adopt him from us. But, that's not to say he ever got special treatment over the rest of you once we began taking more children in. We obviously didn't want him to end up being bullied over something like that. We even gave him my maiden name, 'Almasy', once we enrolled him in the Garden, to better distance him from us in that regard. It's a shame, but ultimately we stopped being his parents a long time ago."

No wonder he's always had a chip on his shoulder.

However well meaning their intentions, Squall could perfectly envision how Seifer's childhood neglect might have been responsible for his delinquent streak. Clearly, those feelings of abandonment had left an impact, just as they had for him after Ellone had been taken out of the orphanage. They'd doubtless made it all the easier for Ultimecia to manipulate him under Edea's guise.

"And it was also you who gave me 'Leonhart', right?" he pivoted. She smiled at the question.

"Yes. And from what I can tell, it's come to suit you very nicely."

Again, he embarrassingly averted his eyes.

"So, what else has Ellone been showing you?" she swiveled back around to his original point.

"More or less her father's entire life story. I couldn't begin to tell you why, though."

Of all the mysteries still weighing on his mind, there was perhaps no other he hoped to get an explanation for sooner.

"I… I see," Edea hummed. Her eyes, previously alight, had suddenly become distant. "Well, I'm sure she has her reasons."

"I'm not complaining," he told her. "I'd be happy to get another one from her soon, just to know she's safe."

"I think she'll be okay," Cid reassured him. "But there's no use stressing over it now. You said you wanted to see to Rinoa, right? Give her my best wishes when she wakes up. She's got guts."

Squall nodded, and prepared to take his leave. He stopped just before the door; he'd almost completely forgotten.

"Matron," he turned back to Edea. "What really happened that day at the orphanage? When that sorceress came."

He anxiously stared her down, his heart beating in his chest as he waited for an answer. She hesitated, seeming lost in thought. After a moment's contemplation, she met his eyes again.

"I don't know what you mean, Squall. I told you, I received my powers when I was 5. I've never met another sorceress."

Despite her best efforts to keep a straight face, Cid's own confused expression betrayed her lie. Squall likewise knew better; her own husband had already told him as much. And yet, whatever the reason for her reluctance, he was prepared to respect it. He had no intention of forcing the truth out of her, especially after all she'd laid bare already. With a curt nod, he turned his back, and stepped out of the headmaster's office.

Chapter Text

The academy-wide cleanup effort continued on for the next several days. In total, the damage from the confrontation had far surpassed that of the Balamb Garden civil revolt from six weeks earlier. Day by day, the casualty figures continued to climb. Fortunately, with Galbadia Garden now abandoned by the enemy, the medical staff had another infirmary on hand to service all the wounded. The fresh abundance of spare room couldn't have come at a better time; numerous survivors had been salvaged from the Trabia Garden ruins, including Headmaster Dodonna, who'd been given priority treatment. From his sick bed, a deal had already been brokered between the two headmasters to leave them Galbadia Garden in lieu of their destroyed home.

What soldiers and sorceress' knights they'd taken captive had been confined to the detention block spread across the 14th floor. Meanwhile, the dead had been gathered up, friend and foe alike, to be given a mass burial out on the snowfields in the coming days. The names of the fallen Balamb and Trabia students were taken down, and honored with a swiftly organized memorial service. Though he'd never attended anything of the sort before, whether after a field exam or other large scale operation, Squall had made it a point to show up. The impetus went beyond his obligation as acting commandant; he owed it to Xu, in gratitude of everything she'd done for him.

Edea had remained herself since the battle's end. To her delight, the veins across her cheeks had already begun receding by the second day. She'd largely kept herself sequestered to Cid's quarters in the meantime, under continual surveillance by Squall and a select group of top-ranked SeeDs; only once satisfied she wouldn't be recognized so easily did she dare to venture below. Having procured a more modest, professional wardrobe from her husband's closet, she'd already started resembling the kindly caretaker they'd known once again.

Unfortunately, for all of Edea's improvements, Rinoa had still yet to wake from her slumber. Since the morning after the battle, she'd been hooked up to an IV drip in her room, and kept under routine observation by an assigned med student. Squall likewise would come by to check up on her between his other duties; the keycard left discreetly wedged behind the room's number plate just beside the door allowed him easy access. His heart would begin pounding in his chest each and every time time he came to visit, anxiously hoping she might be awake to greet him when he stepped through. To his dismay, she never was. There she would always be, laid beneath the sheets, still as a corpse, the blipping heart monitor his only reassurance otherwise.

So it had continued until the 4th day, when at last some change was apparent: the keycard was missing. He took hold of the doorknob and turned. The door swung open to reveal a startled Selphie sitting by Rinoa's bedside.

"Oh… hey," she said to him as he strolled inside. "Just figured I'd stop by and see how she's holding up. Still nothing, huh?"

"Her vitals seem normal," he muttered as he closed the door behind him. "By all accounts, she ought to be back up by now."

"Have they given her any kind of brain scan?" she asked.

"Not yet. They're still too swamped to get her in for a full examination."

"Well, now that we know what using GFs too much can do to your memory…"

She let the open-ended statement hang in the air, correctly assuming that he could follow her line of reasoning. Although he'd never heard of such a thing happening to a cadet after only one summoning, rarely had he ever seen so much energy be poured into one as Rinoa had done. It was all too possible something had been damaged in the process.

"I know," he finally answered. "But for now, I'm still hoping it won't come to that."

"I've gotta say, it's really surreal hearing you of all people be optimistic," Selphie replied.

"I wouldn't call it optimism. It's more like… a desperation to be proven wrong. I'm the one who got her started on her training, so it's my responsibility if she ends up stuck like this for the rest of her life because of it."

"Squall… you've changed."

If he had, it was only a matter of circumstance. He'd been repeatedly pressed into one position of authority after another, regardless of his sheer lack of experience, and given no choice but to persevere. Facing such adversity would surely test any person, and ultimately force them to make necessary changes in how they handled themselves.

"Speaking of GFs… did you ever find yours?" he quickly changed the subject.

"No," she sighed. "We looked everywhere, but it's just gone. I can't believe I didn't check myself over for it after the blast."

"I see," Squall hummed. "And if you did still have it… do you think there would be anything you could do to help her?"

"No way. Best I could do was close up a few flesh wounds. I've got nothing when it comes to working on someone's brain, and I wouldn't have it in me to try it out on her first."

Squall carefully dipped his hand into his jacket's pocket, rummaging around for his own extra sphere. He'd already considered the ramifications of potentially loaning it to her over the past several days. Recognizing the uselessness of keeping it for himself, he'd determined that the only sensible course of action would be to give it to the one person still able to harness its power. Whether or not she could be of any service to Rinoa came second.

"But hey, not like I could even if I wanted to now, right?" she rolled her eyes. "At least Irvine got all his stuff back from his dorm. Lucky him, huh?"

"Selphie," Squall cut her off as he traipsed over to her side, and brought up the sphere for her to see. "This was Xu's. She gave it to me right before she died."

"Huh?"

Her eyes suddenly went wide as she looked it over in his hand.

"Y-You're kidding me!" she stammered. "I told you, I wouldn't have a clue what I'm doing!"

"That's not what I'm asking," he clarified. "I just want you to have it, in place of your own."

"What? I… I can't take that! Besides, I've still got the one they gave me after I enrolled, remember? So, it's not like I'm hurting for one."

"That's not the point. Now that Xu's gone, you're the only one in the Garden who has any idea what they're doing when it comes to holy spellcraft. We're going to need every advantage we can get to defeat this Ultimecia, and that would be a big one. So, please… just do this for me. For us."

Her green eyes continued to swivel back and forth between his and the sphere. He continued standing there with his arm outstretched to her, wordlessly pleading for her to take it. After an uncomfortably long span of silence, she finally did.

"I… I don't know what to say," she said as she twirled the silver ball around in her fingers.

"You don't have to say anything," he assured her. "Just consider it a sign of my trust."

"Man, can't put a price on that, huh?" she smirked as she slipped the sphere into her pocket; she made double sure to zip it firmly shut.

"Nope. And that reminds me, I've still got your wallet."

"What?!"

It was Squall's turn to smirk. With a swift detour back to his dorm room, and an explanation for having kept it following their escape from the prison, he made good on returning it to her. Indeed, for however distrustful he'd been of her ever since, she had absolutely proven herself worthy in his eyes.

Two days later, he found himself back at Rinoa's bedside again. Still, nothing had changed. What had begun as a mild cause for concern was quickly turning to defeatism. The longer her coma persisted, the more anxious he became that she might never wake again. There he sat beside her in hopeless silence, at a loss for what to do. And as he continued to reflect over all they'd been through, from their first meeting at the graduation ball up until now, he began to reconsider if circumstance were truly all there had been to how much he'd changed. There had undoubtedly been something about her.

That night… you smiled when our eyes met. You were always so full of life. Now, you don't even make a sound… Please, Rinoa… wake up…

As he fruitlessly pleaded for her to hear him, a great fatigue suddenly began to take hold of his body. Before long, his head started pulsing, his vision beginning to blur. Although it had been some time since he'd managed to get a good night's sleep, he now knew better than to mistake this sensation for ordinary tiredness. He likewise understood that it was only bound to get worse the more he resisted. And more important still, he'd been longing for it. Giving in, he let himself topple out of the chair, falling face-first onto the edge of the mattress.

Ellone… is that… you…?

"Laguna!"

"Man, all this time, and that's still all you've got to show for it, huh?" he chuckled.

The moomba at his side purred in acknowledgment. Remarkably intelligent though the creatures were, it seemed the human language would forever elude them in any significant capacity. Regardless, the camaraderie he now shared with this particular one went beyond mere words. Three months had passed since its pack had found him and his friends injured from the tumble they'd taken down the Vienne Mountains. Fortunately, the road to recovery had been a short one; he'd been in nowhere near as bad shape as when he'd first arrived at Winhill. And though nothing could compare to the comfort Raine had given him then, their hosts had been nothing if not hospitable.

He and his furry companion traipsed along the main road running through Shumi Village. An evenly spaced arrangement of stout, one-level huts dotted the greenery all around, some elevated on raised plateaus. Composed of polished wood held together by bronze metallic frames, their design and generous spacing had been a conscious choice so as not to unnecessarily impose upon nature. Such had long been a central ethos of the Shumi culture. What other people would have tried to build up a civilization in the middle of the desolate windswept north? And yet, there was no snow in sight, nor the faintest hint of a chill.

The entire village was subterranean, settled within a vast cavern chiseled deep into the rock untold millennia ago. Massive chunks of luminous crystal ingrained across the high ceiling were their sunlight. A raging waterfall poured down from above on the village's outer edge, falling further into the depths of the earth beyond a steep precipice. Evidently, the conditions had been suitable for plant life to thrive; there was no shortage of bushes and trees spread about, as well as private gardens jutting off from a select few houses. Laguna could hardly believe his eyes when he and the others had first been brought in; that any culture could prosper this far below ground for so long still amazed him.

The villagers, squat and pale yellow with over-sized hands, went about their day all around. Most offered Laguna a bow as he passed by, their customary sign of greeting. Hand waving was expressly frowned upon; as a people so dedicated to their life's handiwork, carelessly flaunting one's palms was viewed as a sign of disrespect. He tilted his head back to each of them in turn as he carried on. By now, he'd become familiar with a great number of them, as well as their many moomba helpers; what fiery, furry creatures he passed along the way called out to him with a purr.

Human visitors were exceedingly rare. There had supposedly been only one instance before themselves: a group of technicians from Fisherman's Horizon who'd been named honorary Shumi for having assisted with the construction of a new elevator system to the surface. Naturally, he and his friends' arrival had drawn attention from all corners. And yet, for what celebrity status they'd garnered, it had thankfully never progressed into pestering, nor resentment for that matter. Regardless of whatever the villagers all thought of them, they were often too wrapped up in their own work to pay any mind. A Shumi's calling was so much more than a simple career or hobby; it was a way of life, a means to contribute something of value to their society.

Laguna's own calling had again been put on hold for the last few months. Though he'd been back on his feet in short order, he no longer had a clear heading. The blast that had sent him and his comrades tumbling down the mountain had reduced the region beyond to a gigantic smoldering crater. No matter his desire to see Ellone, there was no possibility of crossing it into Esthar. Fortunately, after bringing his dilemma to the villagers' attention, they had been able to provide him with a solution. One of their brothers regularly did business with Esthar, even now in the midst of the ongoing war. His routine visits home were usually sporadic, though had become increasingly frequent as of late. And so, Laguna and his friends had opted to wait for his next return. Finally, that day had arrived.

[… Ellone? Are you there? Can you hear me?]

Yup, there is is. Looks like it's gonna be another big day.

He did not slow even as the familiar sensation washed over his mind. If anything, it gave him comfort to feel it again; each instance thus far had been nothing if not a sign of another milestone event in his life. It had been there his night spent with Julia, during his mishap in Centra that had led him to Winhill, when he'd found his resolve to go after Ellone, and the day he'd undoubtedly changed another lonely young woman's life forever. It had yet to lead him astray, and he was sure this time would turn out to be just as beneficial to him in the long run.

"Laguna!" his moomba squeaked again as they approached the Elder's hut at the center of the village.

"Yeah, I'm gonna miss you too, little guy," he sighed. "You and all your pals."

He knocked on the door, and waited for a response. It came moments later as the door creaked open. A Shumi like any other stood on the other side, dressed in robes no less humble than the rest. And yet, Laguna knew better; what awaited this brother further down his own life's path was a responsibility far greater.

"Hey," Laguna greeted him. "Me and my friends are about to head out. Is the Elder busy?"

"Not at the moment," the attendant said. "And Attendant is sure he'd be willing make time for you. Please, come in."

He parted the door further, allowing Laguna and the moomba to step through. Despite the Elder's executive position, his hut was hardly more spacious than most others in the village; a short entrance antechamber opened into a domed main hub. The walls all around displayed many hung mementos from Elders past, as well as an extensive written record signed by each upon their ascension to the title. A dimmed light fixture hung from the center of the ceiling, casting light down onto the man himself at his giant desk. His stature was far taller; standing up, he was almost twice as tall as his attendant. His hands were no different, each finger nearly as long as one of his arms. As was the norm for their race, his chin had begun to droop with age; it dangled over top his robe's collar like a bulbous uvula. His beady black eyes turned up as the three walked in.

"Master Laguna is here," the aide announced.

"Thank you, Attendant," the Elder replied in a rich, eloquent baritone.

For as long as he'd been in the village, it had never failed to make Laguna uncomfortable hearing so many citizens address one another by their occupation. In the Shumi culture, one surrendered their given name upon receiving their calling. In the eyes of the Elder, and all the village, this particular one had no name but 'Attendant' now. So it was for every profession: 'Artisan', 'Sculptor', 'Farmer', 'Tailor', and right on down the line. Likewise, for any member of the tribe besides the Elder to refer to themselves using 'I', 'Me', or any variation thereof was strictly taboo.

"Please, have a seat," the tall Shumi motioned to the chairs in front of his desk.

[Ellone? Ellone, if you're there, please answer me.]

"Th-That's alright," he stumbled over his tongue. "It won't take long anyway. Me and my friends were just about to leave. They're waiting for me over at the tavern. But before we go, I just wanted to drop by and say thank you for everything you've done for us. We owe you a lot."

"Not at all. It was the least we could do to help someone in need. And especially someone with such a worthwhile cause. It is unfortunate that we must part, but you will always be welcome here. You'll forgive me if I do not come along to see you off, however. I'm afraid I have very little goodwill towards our wayward brother with whom you must go."

Laguna had heard as much from the townspeople, and yet never any further elaboration. Whatever the reason, that he hadn't been banished from the village outright must have meant it was nothing of great concern.

Then again, they're pretty generous people by nature…

"Oh, how Attendant envies those who walk in freedom," the attendant spoke. "How wonderful it would be to explore all the outside world has to offer."

Laguna silently concurred; he'd felt the same all his life. It was the very dream that had kept him pushing forward for so long, until he'd finally achieved it with his career in journalism. Were he still employed, the village would have made for a perfect piece in Timber Maniacs. But as he'd learned since, there were more important pursuits in life.

"It's great to see new places," he summarized for the attendant. "But it's the people you have waiting for you at home, the ones you share your life with… that's what matters most."

"Very well spoken," the Elder lauded him with a smile.

"Attendant knows," the younger Shumi acknowledged. "But, this place seems so… fixed, so rooted in tradition. Too much so. Our lives and destinies have been set in stone for us from the moment we're born. Wouldn't you despise that kind of life, Master Laguna?"

Pretty sharp…

"That's enough!" his superior cut him off. "This is the way of our people, to selflessly devote ourselves to each of our individual callings, so that we may better our society as a collective whole. Yours is to stay by my side, in preparation for the day you become an Elder yourself. I will not stand to see my successor shirk that responsibility. Not again."

As the Elder continued to reprimand his aide, Laguna's moomba friend began huddling in close to his leg. He stared down at the creature, at a loss for what he was expected to do; who was he to stick his nose into cultural matters he had no understanding of?

"A-Anyway, I'd better get going," he awkwardly diverted the conversation. "Don't want to keep the guys waiting. Or our ride."

At his words, they both turned to him, their faces wrought with embarrassment.

"Our apologies," the Elder said. "We did not mean to trouble you. Please forgive us for such an ugly display."

"It's alright. I don't have all the answers myself. I can only speak from my own life experience. Believe me, Attendant… I've known what it's like to feel out of place, or that your life's not taking you down a path you want to go. Just try to keep your head up, and stay positive down here. And don't worry about trying to find your 'true' calling right away. If life's taught me anything, it's that sometimes it finds you."

The stout Shumi averted his eyes to the floor; whether out of contemplation or defeat, Laguna couldn't tell. He'd tried to choose his words carefully so as not to upset the Elder, though couldn't be sure that what had ultimately come out would be enough to help him persevere.

"Just… something to chew on," he insisted. "Think it over, and tell me what you come up with when I'm back someday. And I promise, I will be back."

Not waiting for a proper dismissal, he turned away and started for the door.

"Thanks again for everything. See you around!"

In his effort to remain casual, he instinctively waved back as he trailed out of the hut, only realizing his faux-pas once he was outside. Deeply embarrassed, he quickened his pace as he trailed off down the main road, and did not look back.

The standoff between master and apprentice continued to weigh on his mind as he made his way through the streets. He was torn; though he could sympathize with the attendant's hopes and dreams, he was not so ignorant as to disregard the Elder's point of view. The people needed hope for the future, a reassurance that their prosperity would continue under stable leadership. Laguna couldn't imagine how he might react in the same position, nor did he expect he would he ever need to.

[Trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be.]

"Laguna!" the moomba called his name again as they approached the tavern.

"Yeah, I know, I could've handled that one better," he sighed; whether that were in fact the substance of its nagging, he knew it was true, all the same.

He took hold of the door and swung it open. Stepping on through, he noticed a distinct lack of patrons among the various wooden tables and barstools. Such was normal for the time of day. Merriment was strictly a nighttime indulgence among the villagers, and even then, never to the point of intoxication. Laguna had never seen anything like it before; whether during his time in the army, or at Raine's bar in Winhill, many were the patrons who would go drunkenly stumbling out the door after last call, helped along by their friends. And yet, for all the times he'd frequented the Shumi Village tavern in the last 3 months, never had he seen a single case.

As he scanned his eyes over the tables, he quickly caught sight of Kiros and Ward. They were seated off in the corner. Across from them sat a Shumi a good deal more portly than any other he'd seen; he'd arrived the prior evening to much gossip among the village locals, and taken out a room above the tavern for the night. Behind him stood a pair of aides; their dark robes were long and flowing, their faces each obscured by a bronze, disk-shaped piece of head-wear. Though he couldn't see any trace of exposed skin, he assumed them to be human; at the very least, both were taller than the average Shumi. One carried his assault rifle and ammunition bandoliers slung over his shoulder. A glance at his waist revealed Kiros' sheathed katars buckled around.

[Is that…?]

"Good timing," Kiros said to him as he strolled up. "We've just finished hashing out the cost. It's going to be pricey, but we've got enough to cover it."

"I would say it's only reasonable," the Shumi insisted; his voice was remarkably deep and guttural. "It's a long journey, especially now that our usual route through the mountains is no more."

His deliberate usage of 'I' hadn't slipped by Laguna. At once, he began to understand why the Elder might take umbrage with this particular 'wayward brother'.

"We're just happy to have someone who can bring us in," he replied. "Thanks for letting us come along, Brother… uh, sorry, I'm not the best with names…"

"Norg," he formally introduced himself with a smile. "And please, think nothing of it."

[…!]

"So then, will it just be you three?"

His beady eyes trailed downward past him to the moomba. Laguna swiftly turned around, his heart growing heavy as he prepared to say goodbye. He reached out his hand to the furry red feline. It extended its own plush paw in return.

"Sorry, buddy," he said as they hi-fived. "It's time for me to go. Maybe we'll see each other again someday."

"Laguna," it mewled.

Its eyes, always so alight with excitement, just as quickly turned sad. He could feel his own starting to become itchy as the emotions began bubbling up inside him.

"It would be no bother to bring that one along as well," Norg suddenly interjected. "I've taken many moombas with me in my travels before. Especially as of late."

"Really?!" Laguna reeled in surprise.

"Of course. Only my brethren are bound by custom to remain in this village. Their kind may come and go as they please."

"Hey, you hear that, little guy? Do you wanna come along with us?"

The joyous squeak that escaped its maw was answer enough. He turned his head back to the Shumi, before pivoting to his friends.

"So what, you're looking to surprise Ellone with a new pet now?" Kiros scoffed.

"Hey, come on! The more the merrier, right?"

His friend said nothing in return. Ward too gave him no response, on account of no longer having the capacity to do so. All the same, Laguna could perfectly read his expression: 'If it means we can finally get a move on…'

"Please, let us not waste any more time," Norg asked of them. He rose from his chair; for however pudgy his proportions, his height was comparable to that of most other Shumi. "With our usual route out of commission, we'll have to make haste to get our next delivery there in time."

He started moving towards the door. His robed bodyguards were quick to follow after, each keeping their attention trained to the three every step of the way. Laguna understood perfectly well that time was of the essence; Ellone's last few months in Esthar couldn't have been anywhere near as comfortable as his. He waved for Kiros and Ward to get up from the table. They complied, and together with their enthusiastic moomba tag-along, the seven trailed out of the tavern.

Norg led the way forward, paying no heed to the looks he received from the villagers they passed. They traversed the network of narrow, winding roads towards the imposing cave wall at the village's far end. There, a freshly chiseled elevator shaft rose up into the ceiling. A winding staircase carved from the rocks stretched up just beside, now rendered a secondary means of traveling to the surface and back. Just the thought of traversing it from top to bottom made Laguna sick to his stomach. Even drawing close to the opposite edge of the village, where the waterfall cascaded down into the depths, had been enough to make him uncomfortable. After both his close calls in Centra and Trabia, he was determined to keep himself clear from any more steep drops.

Before long, they reached the elevator. As they piled aboard, Laguna turned back to take one last look at the marvelous underground society, thankful for all its people had done for him. However alien their culture was to him, they'd been the kindest hosts he could have hoped for.

Another place to bring Ellone…

"So, what exactly do you trade in?" Kiros asked as the lift began to rise.

"Whatever brings the greatest profit," Norg answered cryptically. "I've had many years to build up a long list of clients from all around the world. I work to supply wherever there is demand. For the right price, of course."

"What was it that made you want to go into that kind of business?" Laguna pried.

[Money. What else?]

"Ambition… and perhaps a hint of resentment. You've seen my brothers and sisters down below, the way they toil day after day, and for what? Their entire life's work spent all for the betterment of the community, never receiving an ounce of gratification for themselves. That way never sat right with me. I sought something more than the 'calling' I'd been forced into. I wanted to make something of myself, to carve out my own path. And if that meant leaving the village and everything I'd ever known behind, then so be it."

Laguna hesitated before speaking again; he'd heard practically the very same thing from the Elder's attendant not even a half hour before.

"And did you ever… share any of this with the others? You can't be the only one who's ever thought the way you do."

"I brought it up to the Elder once. He was so furious he had me stripped of my position as his attendant on the spot, and demanded that I never speak my mind to another Shumi again under threat of banishment. I left not long after that. What more is there to do when you've had your life's purpose in the village rescinded? All the same, I kept my oath to him. They still give me a berth whenever I'm in the area on business. Good thing, too. I've been coming through more frequently thanks to a new trade I've become involved in."

"And what might that be?" Kiros asked. The lift finally slowed as he did so, coming to its apex in a small domed chamber constructed entirely of rock.

"What's that saying you humans have?" Norg chuckled. "'Seeing is believing'?"

He strode forward to the entryway, an otherwise unremarkable segment of wall. The large ingrained handholds and barely noticeable treads set at its base were the only indications otherwise. He took the handles in his monstrous grasp and heaved. The rock face slid along its treads, allowing daylight to come shining through from the other side. Snowy plains awaited beyond, peppered by trees and hulking boulders not unlike the hollowed-out one they emerged from.

A motorized caravan of armored transports idled immediately before them, their polished silver plating gleaming in the sun. Laguna quickly scanned his eyes over the five tightly clustered vehicles as Norg and his aides led the way forward. The doors to the nearest opened at their approach. Out stepped another two dressed in matching robes and head-wear, who quickly moved forward to intercept them.

"Show these three and the moomba to the back," Norg commanded them. "Make sure their… accommodations are in order."

"Yes, Master," one responded. With a wave of his arm, he gestured for them to follow.

Apprehensive though he was, Laguna knew it was too late to be having second thoughts. He'd waited 3 long months for the sake of guaranteed passage into Esthar. There was no other recourse for him now; he'd kept Ellone waiting too long already. With another look to his teammates for solidarity, they and the moomba circled the caravan to the rear-most transport. As they drew near the back of the truck, the leading aide stepped aside. He gestured to the sealed cargo door, bidding Laguna to go ahead of him. Eager to finally get back on the road again, he reached for the handle and heaved upward. Whatever their traveling conditions, he was sure he'd be content so long as Norg and his men kept them sufficiently fed.

What he saw as the shutter opened left him speechless. No less than a dozen moombas littered the inside of the cargo carriage, all shackled to the walls. Many bore fresh scars about their ragged, ruffled fur. Those not too fatigued to rise whimpered and squeaked as they turned to him, seemingly begging to be freed from their chains. Laguna's eyes began to water as his brain struggled to process the sight, if not for the sheer cruelty, then surely for the unbearable stench of droppings wafting out.

"What the hell?!" he shouted. "What are you guys doing to-"

He cut himself short as he was abruptly seized from behind. A sharp needle was plunged into his neck the next moment. He winced in pain as it sunk deeper, and struggled to fight his way out of the aide's grasp. His limbs quickly failed him. As he slumped from his feet, his eyes gradually going blurry, he noticed Ward's bulky figure go toppling over off to the side. Try as he might to turn his head to take stock of Kiros and his moomba friend, he no longer had the strength to. At last, his vision gave out completely.

What's… going…?

Chapter Text

All was silent. All was darkness. And yet, unlike all the times before, there came no awakening from his vision of the past. Despite Laguna's drug-induced loss of consciousness, Squall's remained perpetually tied. There he lingered in the void, unable to see a thing, much less move. His paranoia began to further mount with each minute passed; the complete and total sensory deprivation was becoming too much for him to bear.

Ellone? Can you hear me?

No response came. For minutes longer he idled in the nothingness, doomed to perpetuity in a world which seemed to defy the very concept of existence. He had no corporeal form, nor any reference of where or when he might be. For however restrictive being confined to Laguna's mind might have been, this was so much worse. Without a mouth, he could only hope his thoughts might somehow reach her.

Please, Ellone… speak to me…

[… Squall? Is that you?]

Had he a detectable pulse, it surely would have quickened.

Yes, it's me. You sent me into Laguna's mind again, right?

[I don't… oh, I must be sleeping. Sorry, it just happens on its own sometimes when I'm asleep. Most of the White SeeDs have experienced it at least once, where I'll accidentally send them into each other's minds. I've probably even done it to you a couple of times before over the years without knowing it.]

Squall couldn't recall having experienced any other dreams so vivid before his first as Laguna on the morning of the field exam. But then, there had already been so much of his life that he'd forgotten until recently.

So, you can't control your power?