-Tennyson, Alfred, Lord

Ulysses 18

Laguna

Raine

Kiros

Ward

Ellone

Cid

Edea

Squall

Rinoa

Quistis

Irvine

Selphie

Jeremy Chapter

Red Line

Merali

Dante

Pearl

Mina

Seifer

Fujin

Rajin

Author's Extended Foreword:

Everything belongs to Squaresoft, Inc., not to me, unless I made it up.

I realized that the length of this 61-Setting story (480+ single-spaced pages) would deter most fans from reading it, while even fewer would ever finish reading. In order to boost the interest and preserve the incentive to keep reading, I’ve begged the assistance of very talented artists two whom I shall give due and grateful credit for their pieces for each chapter. I tried a little humor in each Setting with the characters. Please excuse me if what they say is not what you would have liked to hear. I was just tired of reading countless stories of Seifer being a menace to society or Seifer’s sudden change of heart. I can’t take anymore mushy, too-perfect romance between Squall and Rinoa. I couldn’t stand Cid’s being able to chew Squall out after he saved the world. I haven’t seen too many people use GFs as more than just weapons of war in their stories (the exception being Kate (Wang) Lorraine’s "Claiming of Shiva" in which she incorporates lines like, "Oh, [Shiva] wanted this one. This one, she had to make her own."). I don’t think Rinoa’s new sorceress powers are that fun to read about. I’m mad at all the fanfics that leave the reader hanging and never get finished, especially with so many people, like myself, who have already beaten FF9 in Japanese. I think Ultimecia’s return or the repeat of the Lunar Cry is unoriginal. I hope to fix all this if you give me the chance. If the story happens to bore, disgust, offend, or annoy you in any way, don’t tell me about it because I don’t want to know. If you want another story, or a sequel perhaps, drop a line with any fictitious character names you would like to see incorporated in it, or any fresh ideas.

I think everyone secretly or publicly aspires to be the best, and if there is no "the best," then "a best." While I'm not as arrogant as Dante when he says in his Inferno XXV,

I will try my best to entertain you, the reader, because I think just maybe if try harder enough to gear my style towards emanating what Macrobius in his Saturnalia V praised as

Forgive me, readers, for the next few pages are the best I can do.

Prologue: 1716 DAY 27, Tomb of the Unknown King Main Chamber

From the way that it felt, it had to be pretty bad. Under his shirt, there were, no doubt, multiple punctures, through which he could feel the red fluid seeping out and soaking his white shirt. Had he his wits, he might have realized that he didn't have much time left before the end.

Nothing seemed to be happening. The drumming in his ears was silent but somehow concurrently more intense than it could ever have sounded in reality. His mind couldn’t register too many thoughts at once; he could only connect a small number of them; his movements were sluggish; his limbs were nowhere to be found; the world was now at rest, now swirling; now muddled, now clear.

He'd been in combat long enough to recognize these symptoms. He was in shock.

Looking down, he caught a glimpse of his completely red shirt and coldness seized him.

She betrayed me!

He could not get over that thought, he, crouching there, arms pulled in close, shivering in his bloodstained uniform. The image of the girl running out from the cavern played itself over and over in his head. He tried to stop it, but his memory refused to obey, forcing him to revisit the blue, the flapping, waving blue that she had down over her back. The blue she had that was so visible as she ran away.

What happened?

He grimaced as different parts of his body began to throb. He had to remember; he had to go back further. He saw fire, he felt his body being pierced from all sides, he perceived his initial fear, he stomached the onslaught of doubt, daunt, and imminent death, but only after the blue forced itself back into reminiscence did he feel obliterated.

He closed his eyes and shook his head violently, desperately trying to recall what had just happened. All the world seemed to bob ineffectually in eerie limbo.

She betrayed me!

He had to get beyond that. There was something else, something he was missing. If only he weren't trembling so much, if he could shut out the pain, flooding his system and ripping into his muscles like a jagged saw, twisting from where it was nestled as to hook more sinews on its way through his body. The imagined sound of his flesh being torn off by strips nauseated him.

His eyes shot open. It had come to him.

I was buried alive.

He tried to look around, focus his eyes, and find something that looked familiar. He wasn’t certain if the noise exploding in his ears was someone's screaming or a great tremor sent by Nature herself. Just as his mind began to question the seemingly inert passing of time, his vision cleared and his eyes seized a target.

It was Rinoa, standing above him with a wicked-looking dagger that she was raising over his head.

Am I to die? he wondered as the feelings of loneliness and dread washed over him.

In response to that question which he had forbidden himself to ever ask, a dark phantom appeared from overhead and ominously called his name, beckoning for him.

"Squall."

Setting 01: 1220 DAY 0, Alcaud Plains around Balamb

Ulysses 5

<Elixir> Pathetic plea

<I need an Elixir> Self-evident declaration

<Help me>! Punctuated despair and pathetic plea

<Anyone have an Elixir>? Rhetorical question and wishful thinking

<Please help me> Pathetic plea and self-evident futility

<…> Pause and resumption

<My poor feet> Plaintive self-pity

<…> Pause and resumption

<…>? Awareness and interest

<…>! Sudden realization and flood of jubilance

<There is Balamb Garden>! Second and self-evident declaration

<…> Self-reassurance and calmness

<There is someone coming>! Awareness and suspicion

<Who is there>? Nonspecifically directed interrogative

<Squall>? Quasi-specifically directed interrogative and wishful thinking

<Squall>! Reckless presumption and exuberance

<Is that you>? Quasi-specifically directed interrogative

<Hey, Squall> Relation-creative-purposive address and wavering certainty

<…> Pause and closer inspection

<…>! Awareness and corollary certainty

<Squall, are you there>? Quasi-specifically directed interrogative, extended presumption, uncertainty, and incipient inquietude

<Heavens>! Awareness and reflex panic

<Help me, someone>! Nonspecifically directed imperative directive, growing panic, and wishful thinking

<Squall>! Reflex defensive assertion and specifically directed, imbedded directive

<Please, no> Plaintive plea, specifically directed, elliptical imperative directive, deplorable capitulation, and fear

<Please> Plaintive plea, specifically directed, imperative directive, and unmitigated fear

<NO>! Awareness, plaintive plea, specifically directed, elliptical imperative directive and recoil

<

* * ** *** ***** ********

Jeremy's Scribbles:

Okay, this pathetic little guy with 10 HP would be PuPu the alien, and he just got slaughtered, poor thing. If you didn't know this, then it is something you need to know.

The "stage directions" after each line he communicates are necessary, and they aren't stage directions; PuPu's alien clan does not communicate with their voices, only their thoughts. They don't have facial expressions either, which means to communicate elements such as sarcasm or emotion, I have to add the "stage directions" and, if you noticed, keep the emotion-denoting punctuation marks (question or exclamation) outside of the <brackets>.

In actuality, those "stage directions" are called the "pragmatics" of language. The words he actually "speaks" are called the "semantics" of language. Because he isn't actually making any sounds with his mouth, I used <brackets> instead of "quotations" to indicate what he wants to <communicate> with his thoughts. Also, throughout the rest of the story, thoughts are italicized and speech is unmodified. So what PuPu wants to communicate show up <like this>.

I would appreciate your reviews for this chapter and every chapter so I can see what you are thinking and go back and make corrections for other readers if I see that everyone is stumbling between the same two chapters. It would also facilitate correcting spelling or grammar errors if you would report them in that chapter's review.

Setting 02: 1427 DAY 1, Winhill Cemetery

-Tennyson, Alfred, Lord

Ulysses 33

Laguna Loire snapped his fingers to pass the time, unsure if what he said was coherent and clueless about what to say next. He’d never seen his wife’s burial marker before, much less talk to it, and he was trying his hardest to keep a smile on his face. What he really wanted to do was plop down right there and beg for Raine’s forgiveness.

"This actually isn’t an awkward situation at all," he lied, "I can almost see you there looking skeptical. So, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to rehearse what the one dialogue that I’ve always imagined that I would have with you once I saw you again."

He stopped to think about what he just said before struggling to rephrase himself, "Of course I won’t be saying your lines out loud cause you’ll be saying them in my head, but it’ll work, I think."

Taking a deep breath, Laguna tried to make some excuses, even though he knew there was no point. And yet, somehow, he was comforted by the fact that had Raine been standing there, she wouldn’t have minded regardless. She would have stood there silently with that understanding, sympathetic smile, ready to laugh at him lightly and let him off the hook. Yes, he could see her standing there now, doing exactly that. It loosened him up a bit, but it also made him wish that she would just get angry at him, start calling him names, cursing at him, or beating him…anything to let him know how she really felt.

It was getting harder and harder to keep up that smile. He realized at that moment that the coldest words were what Raine didn’t say. She would never chastise him even if she were still alive. But now it was too late to hear her utter even a single word.

On the verge of cracking, it seemed like a good idea to change the subject. He thought about going off the script and talking about something that might not make him feel so guilty, but nothing came to mind. Then he remembered that he could always talk about their son whom he was sure Raine would be curious about. Yet, he was determined to save that topic for last.

Unable to come up with anything fast, Laguna could feel himself becoming more and more nervous. He even caught himself antsily tugging on the tails of his unbuttoned dress shirt and swaying back and forth. He kicked himself for not rehearsing it more times before actually coming, but it was too late for that now. Now he shook his head in disgust.

"Looks like I’ve botched another one, Raine," he confessed finally, trying to joke about it with a quick, exaggerated frown. He imagined Raine rolling her eyes, imitating that silly frown, and shaking her head, once again absolving him. He wanted so bad to have her throw daggers at him with her eyes.

"Laguna, you loser, you can’t even make a figment of your imagination get angry with you," he scolded himself.

Raine chuckled and playfully kicked some dirt onto his shoes. Then she tried to mimic his swaying motion, which was making her dizzy.

This is embarrassing, he thought to himself, scratching his head.

"Can you tell me that I’m horrible, that I don’t deserve to live?" he asked her.

Raine placed her index finger against her closed lips, shaking her head.

"I’m serious," he entreated, trying again.

She humorously covered her ears and pretended not to hear him.

"Well, fine then, be that way," Laguna conceded, slightly irritated at getting beaten in an argument with a speechless spirit.

Raine stuck her tongue out at him and pushed him lightly with the meanest face she could put on. It didn’t look very mean to Laguna, and he told her so. Her features softened a bit, not expecting her husband to be so straightforward.

Laguna finally gathered his thoughts and enough courage to spew out clumsily, "I know it wasn’t fair of me to leave you like I did, but that doesn’t make it right for you to leave before I can say that I’m sorry. This was one time that you never gave me the chance to pay for my mistake."

That was what he wanted to say all along, how he felt on the inside, both guilty and cheated. In retaliation, Raine did her best to pull off a mischievous snicker.

"Why did you leave me?" he asked a little bit louder. He could feel the anger boiling inside him, giving him enough strength to press her more forcefully with his questions. "What was it? Was it a disease, something natural, or was it me? It was me, wasn’t it? Tell me."

Before Laguna had finished his last question, Raine had picked up three rocks lying by her epitaph and begun to juggle them, finding them more interesting than her husband’s whining.

"Stop that," he said, trying to swat away the imaginary stones, not realizing how idiotic he looked to any third person.

Raine wasn’t listening now, surprising herself with how many stones she could keep in the air. It was way more entertaining than Laguna’s confession, she decided.

Laguna was shaking involuntarily because he was mad at her for not listening and at himself for getting mad at a dead person when he was the one at fault. He calmed himself, realizing that this was exactly what Raine wanted…an angry Laguna who wanted to project the guilt and shift the blame. She wanted to protect him from feeling as if he had wronged her, even if that meant making herself seem so heartless.

"I’ll stay in Winhill until you want me to go then," he suggested.

For the first time, Raine looked concerned. She shook her head, signaling to Laguna that he didn’t have to do that.

Laguna realized that this was her weakness. She wanted him to stay, but didn’t want to say it, just like she didn’t want him to stay in her little town because of her. He wasn’t doing this for the pleasure of watching Raine grow worried, though, but because he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he left Winhill again so suddenly. He owed that much to her, and seeing how disconcerted she was, as well as knowing her nature of always letting him off easy, he knew he was doing the right thing by making that promise.

At any rate, she might have married him so she wouldn’t have to listen to him beg her again and again to reconsider. Perhaps she was banking on his long vacation all long as a reprieve from all his droning. Had she known that he would have come back to whine after she was dead, she never would have agreed to marry him.

"I won’t leave you. I never should have," he added.

Unexpectedly, Raine let all the rocks she was juggling drop, visibly moved by his discovery and decision.

"I don’t know what else to say except I’m sorry," he admitted, lowering his head.

Raine tried to comfort him with her puppy-dog look, walked over next to him, and caressed his cheek before retreating to her original spot.

"I guess we were both lucky that Squall is that strong," Laguna brought up suddenly, making sure to get it over with before he forgot. "I tried my best to take care of him, but he turned out all right on his own. Very independent, doesn't need anyone's help."

Raine looked confused, but Laguna was too caught up with his praises to notice.

"I mean, he grew up with all that opposition, but he never let it get to him. It's great that he doesn't concern himself with what other people think of him. Tries not to listen to anyone who tries to give him any garbage about his not being able to take care of himself or making the wrong decision. Squall understands himself and knows when he's right, and that's what counts. Doesn't want anyone else to distract him from that. Pretty strong, huh? Always trusts himself to make the right decisions and take care of everything personally-"

Raine was waving for Laguna to stop. She was totally lost, and regardless to whomever her husband was raving about, he didn't seem to be living a healthy life.

"You know, our son. Squall? The big success?" Laguna picked up, thinking her interruption was another joke.

Raine looked stunned, making it abundantly clear that he had better not die any time soon because she was going to make him pay for choosing such a dumb name.

Laguna held up his hands in defense, stammering, "I-I t-thought you named him, because I sure as hell didn’t."

The realization that Ellone named their son hit them at the same time. The look on Raine’s face spelled out that Ellone would do well not to die before her godmother’s wrath subsided, as she would surely pay for choosing such a dumb name.

Laguna rubbed his chin and asked, "You didn’t name him in all that time?"

Raine shot him a "don’t-push-me" look.

"Okay, okay," he said quickly, and shifted the subject back to Ellone, "What did you expect her to name him?"

Raine made a "duh" face and mouthed, "Cloud."

"I’ll get even with her for you, sweetie. I’ll name her son Irvine or something stupid like that," Laguna offered.

Raine nearly doubled over laughing.

Encouraged by her propitious reaction, Laguna took that chance to say that from what he had heard, Squall had turned out just like him.

His wife was unimpressed, thinking to herself, "I thought you said he was a success."

Instead of telling him that, though, she smiled tactfully, took a step forward, and gestured with a wave over his face for him to close his eyes.

Laguna closed them, but he could still see as if they were open. He was able to see the bright afternoon change into night, and all the stars lighting up against the dark velvet above. Looking down, he scowled in dismay as the grave marker vanished before his eyes. His brown slacks turned into black army pants, and his shirt into the sporty blue vest that he had worn when he was young.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" rang a familiar voice from behind him.

Laguna knew who that voice belonged to before he spun around. It was the same one that he had longed to hear for nearly two decades, but he was too amazed by this new development to lift Raine in the air. It was déja vue for he had seen all this somewhere before. He looked through every memory he had with Raine before he realized that she was replaying for him that sentimental scenario in which he proposed to her. Astonished as he was, Laguna allowed himself to relive the moment, enjoying the miracle without questioning how it was possible that they could go through the entire sequence again: He turns around, not sure how to pop the question, waving her off and telling her to forget it; she runs over and pulled his arm, asking him to stay; he swings around, grabs her hand, and fits her finger with a gold ring; she looks at him questioningly; he shows her the gold ring on his own finger and watches as her quizzical countenance melts smoothly into a heart-wrenching, near-whimpering smile; and finally they share the seemingly eternal embrace that made all his consternation about the proposition seem worthwhile.

Laguna’s feet were numb by the time this awesome experience was over and he had to make an effort not to collapse as night turned back into day. Once again he was in the present, staring at her marker, shocked that the illusion had vanished so quickly. He couldn’t see Raine anymore, but some way or another, Laguna felt as if she was right there beside him, providing the same comfort.

"Uncle Laguna!"

Having grown accustomed to the unbroken tranquility of Winhill for the past twenty minutes, Laguna’s eardrums were nearly shattered by Ellone’s soft but nevertheless splitting voice. For an instant Laguna was almost glad that Raine had left since Ellone would surely have been toast had she arrived a few seconds earlier.

There she was, Squall’s "big sister," green scarf and all, trying to make her way down the grassy hill without spraining her dainty ankles. She waved in her usual blinding splendor so innocently that even Laguna had to gawk before grinning and raising his head in acknowledgement.

On the summit behind Ellone he could see Kiros and Ward. Kiros pointed at something behind Laguna. Just a short distance away, the brilliant Balamb Garden drew near, skipping from hill to hill.

Laguna stood up, feeling a sense of pride swell in him with the knowledge that the craft carried a true hero, his son. He almost felt giddy. I can’t believe he’s really mine!

And auspiciously, Raine was there to see it.

Setting 03: 1458 DAY 1, Winhill Outskirts

-Joyce, James

Ulysses II

"I’ve never seen Uncle Laguna so fired up and decisive before, Mr. Kiros," Ellone commented.

Kiros considered it and gave Ward a knowing look.

"Neither have we," was the consensus.

Ellone looked at Ward and giggled.

"No one knew on the White SeeD ship, Mr. Ward," Ellone asked, "but how did you lose your ability to speak?"

Ward was anything but offended by the question. He pointed back in the direction of Winhill, almost out of view.

Kiros did not mince words in his explanation, "Your uncle pushed us off a cliff."

Ellone gasped in amusement, "That simple, huh? No offense, Mr. Ward."

Ward shrugged good-naturedly. He considered himself lucky. Befriending Laguna meant taking risks. It could have been worse, say for instance had Laguna actually tried to save him with one of his hair-brained ideas, he surely would have lost more than his tongue.

They had stopped and were waiting for the Estharian ship. It was actually carrying a full load, but the pilots could not turn down the request of three presidential aides. What Ellone didn’t understand was how Esthar was okay with doing without their president for a week or two. Then she considered the possibility that all he did was put his signature on a few papers every day for tradition’s sake and for the bureaucracy. As long Kiros and Ward were there, Esthar would be fine.

Ellone frowned, recalling something her uncle told her.

"Was this during your escape from Lunatic Pandora?" she asked.

Both Kiros and Ward nodded.

"Uncle Laguna told me that he held off forty guards to give you two a chance to make it down a side path while he had to eventually make the suicide dive himself," Ellone said earnestly.

Kiros and Ward exchanged looks. They were used to Laguna’s lunacies, but they had never heard this version of their escape before. Ward broke into uncontrollable laughter while Kiros made a disgusted "psssh" sound.

Kiros took Ellone aside and said gently, "Now Ellone, your Uncle Laguna has a tendency to exaggerate when he tells his stories…either that or he hit his head on the way down."

"Oh," Ellone murmured, "which part?"

Kiros thought about it and replied, "Not much, just that part about holding off forty guards by himself, then covering our escape, and that last bit about making the jump himself."

""Uncle Laguna wouldn’t do that!" Ellone exclaimed.

"We’re talking about the same uncle of yours, Laguna Loire, right?" he asked, just to make sure.

Ellone saw Kiros’ point.

"What weapon did he say he used?" Kiros pressed on, interested by Laguna’s embellishment of the truth.

Ellone blinked.

"I thought you knew," she answered, "he was using his bare hands."

She turned to look at Ward who seemed to her like he was choking on something.

"No, seriously," she cried, "he gave his gun to you guys in case you ran into any monsters on the way down. How thoughtful of him."

Kiros said exactly what was on Ward’s mind, "Yeah, all three seconds of the way down."

Ellone finally saw the truth, but was adamant on preserving Laguna’s integrity.

"There has to be something good about him…why else would Raine marry him?"

"More likely he probably had something on her and coerced her to marry him through blackmail," Ward thought to himself.

"He’s probably getting old," Ellone tried in desperation.

Kiros snickered.

"Laguna acts your age," he pointed out, "but at least he made this holographic message for us to give to Squall. I’ll transfer it to Balamb Garden with the Esthar transport’s antenna as soon as it picks us up."

"I hope he found something nice to say," Ellone said.

The unadded "and that it’s coherent" was understood by all three.

"I bet it runs something cheesy, like, ‘So, how’s the weather, son? I’m your father now, so if you want to change your last name, son, you can,’" Kiros added in afterthought.

Ellone scowled, saying her uncle wasn’t that corny.

Kiros suggested that the trip into space might have stressed Ellone out more than they thought, so she punched him. Ward pointed at the holovid, suggesting that they take a quick peek. This Ellone was against, but even she was a little curious.

"How about just the first few seconds, before they can get into any of the private talk?" Kiros suggested.

Ellone could live with that, so Kiros typed in the password that Laguna knew Squall would eventually guess right, LOIRE. A miniature version of Laguna appeared, scratching his head and shifting his balance from leg to leg, unsure of what to say.

"So, how’s the weather, son? I’m your father now, so if you want to change your last name, son, you can," Laguna mumbled.

Kiros was laughing so hard that he dropped the holovid, which shut off automatically.

Suddenly their attention was turned to someone coughing in the bushes behind them. Kiros moved aside some shrubbery and saw a lady collapsed in the tall grass. He checked her pulse rate and breathing.

"She’s dying. Definitely needs medical treatment immediately. Even a Blood Soul couldn’t inflict this many status defects. Perhaps an advanced stage Malboro-BTR poisoning. Nothing like I’ve ever seen before. She must have been addicted to it for a long time," Kiros concluded, knowing that it was impossible for any doctor in Winhill to furnish the technology needed to save this lady.

"What is a Blood Soul, Mr. Kiros?" Ellone asked, paling.

"An undead monster. Just some skeletal fish that floats around in the air. There are a lot of them around Winhill, but I’m sure even this kind of poisoning is beyond its ability."

"And you make this assessment based on what kind of experience?" Ellone inquired slowly.

"Five years in the Pan-Galbadia Medical School Gold Class and a surgeon’s degree summa cum laude," Kiros replied, still checking her vital signs.

Ellone whistled, raising her eyebrows.

Ward nodded, remembering how Kiros had once told him that familiarity with the anatomy of various creatures made him so much more efficient a killer, knowing all the vital parts at which to strike first.

And he’s good with those daggers too. Sort of like super-sized scalpels, Ward reflected.

"Hey, look!" Ellone exclaimed, pointing at the Esthar ship appearing over the horizon and speeding towards them.

Kiros looked at Ellone and said, "Don’t even think about it, there is no room for a fourth passenger with that full load."

Ellone considered the situation. It was essential that Kiros and Ward return to the control room, and this lady definitely needed help. Ellone herself was the only one who didn’t really have to make it back on the first flight.

"She can have my spot," she told Kiros. "Just call ahead for another ship to come and get me in five minutes."

Kiros nodded, and then added, "We should notify her family."

He turned to the sick women and tried to find out where she lived. Ellone doubted that she could hear him, so she checked the woman’s pockets.

There were no identification cards like those they had in Esthar; Winhill was too small a place for any need of that. However, besides a pack of green Malboro baby tentacle cigarettes, Ellone did manage to dig out a pair of keys. Seeing them, she put her hand on Kiros’ shoulder and told him he didn’t have to ask the woman anymore. Kiros gave her a questioning look.

"I recognize these keys," she said softly. "This one locks up the bar, and the other one our rooms."

Kiros lifted his eyebrows, thinking, "What luck! Now Laguna doesn’t need to convince her to let him live in his old house. She’ll probably end up selling him the house to pay off Esthar’s medical bill."

Their transport had landed and the crew urging them to hurry up. They were already behind schedule because of the detour to Winhill.

"Just wait here, okay?" Kiros told Ellone, hoisting the sick woman on his shoulder and running up the ramp. Ward waved to Ellone and followed Kiros.

"Okay, Mr. Kiros. See you soon, Ward," Ellone called after them.

The Esthar ship lifted off slowly, drawing up the ramp and sealing the hangar. After it was five meters above the ground, it stopped, slightly rocking, like a suspended puppet wiggles, then made a smooth, in-place 50-degree turn before blasting forwards and disappearing over the horizon in seconds.

When Ellone’s could no longer follow the vessel, she sat down delicately on a little grass patch beside the road. She decided to spend the next five minutes twirling her green scarf and dusting off her white skirt. She really did need a new outfit; the blue shirt she always wore was getting grubby. Suddenly she noticed a fluffy, yellow bird race from one bush across the dirt path into another bush.

Absolutely delighted by the chocobo’s little feet, Ellone squealed, clapping at the same time. She held out her hands and waited for the next chocobo to cross. When it did, she just barely missed nabbing it. And so it went. The adorable babies even dropped items at times. Ellone wheedled from them candy, stray Gil, some medicine, and even a piece of a vase. Totally random, she thought to herself.

She had been entertaining herself in this fashion for a short time before another light flashed over the horizon.

"Right on time," she thought, giddily getting up and dusting her rump off.

Ellone stood up, tugging playfully with a strand of her hair, and waited to be picked up.

Setting 04: 1533 DAY 1, Great Salt Lake Perimeter

-W. R. Inge

<Well, keep searching> Imperative directive and indifference

<Where do you suppose he is>? Specifically directed interrogative, information interrogative

<If I knew, do you not think that you would know too>? Rhetorical question and scorn

<That is not what I meant> Reflex defensive assertion and disconcertedness

<I know what you meant> Complacent declaration and haughtiness

<I know you know what I meant> Ruffled retort and slight exasperation

<Then we understand each other>? Complacent, rhetorical question and indifference

<Crystal-clear, but where do you suppose he is>? Punchy, reflex dismissal and assertive interrogative

<If somehow I knew and you did not know, would we be randomly flying around>? Rhetorical question and vestigial condescension

<…> Internal conflict and strained suppression of ire

<…> Self-satisfaction and pleasure

<Why didn't the Carrier send more ships besides just ours>? Earnest interrogative

<Obviously the Carrier thinks one scout ship is enough locate him> Reflex ludicrous response

<We both know that is not true> Rebuff and strained patience

<I know you know that we both know the same thing> Self-righteous clarification, feigned admiration, and slight exasperation

<We have been through this many times already> Declaration, disapproval, and mild annoyance

<Then stop bringing it up>! Snappy retort and scorn

<…> Pause and discomfiture

<…> Indifference

<You have not answered my question> Declaration and impatience

<Search me> Malicious, absurd suggestion

<…> Pause and frustration

<If I had the answer, you would have it already too> Supercilious explanation

<…> Helplessness and dissatisfaction

<…> Dismissal and indifference

<I fear the worst> Earnest opinion

<I know> Complacent, self-evident declaration

<…> Tested tolerance

<…> Indifference

<Where could he have gone>? Nonspecifically directed rhetorical question, befuddlement, and slight exasperation

<For the last time, I do not know>! Sudden expletive and flood of annoyance

<It was a rhetorical question. I was not addressing you> Preplanned self-assured clarification and latent affront

<Well, I heard it> Indirect plaintive declaration and annoyance

<Then it is not my fault> Childish declaration of self-exculpation

<Just mind your own business and keep searching> Brusque imperative directive and dismissal

<What are you going to do>? Semi-interested interrogative, information interrogative, and blatant check

<You already know> Patronizing reminder

<What good is looking through the archived data of this planet's sample population>? Interrogative and skepticism

<You already know that too> Patronizing reminder and deliberate condescension

<Do you honestly believe that by knowing everything about the whole you can infer each individual's every possible action in any given situation>? Derisive rhetorical question, slight amusement, and intimated challenge

<What do you think>? Rhetorical question, information interrogative, and contemptuousness

<I know you just meant for me to search your thoughts> Complacent observance and purposive display

<I know we both know what I meant and that I would know what you would know> Self-righteous retort, contemptuousness, and intimated challenge

<…> Disappointment and frustration

<…> Internal revel

<Well, I think we should not assume anything before we know everything> Solemn declaration, indirect caution, and hint directive

<I knew you were thinking that, so please do not remind me> Complacent declaration, haughtiness, imperative directive, disdain

<…> Ire

<…> Self-assuredness and indifference

<Where could he be>? Nonspecifically directed rhetorical question, information interrogative, and curiosity

<Can you not even stop thinking for more than two seconds>? Sudden expletive, imbedded imperative directive, and annoyance

<I just think it is peculiar that after all our time here, he is the first data collector who has not returned from his routine run> Hasty declaration and mitigating clarification

<I know what you are thinking, you do not have to tell me> Complacent declaration, exasperation, and need directive

<And you do not find that peculiar>? Interrogative and lurking suspicion

<You already know what I think> Reflex argumentative assertion and intimated challenge

<You think the timing is peculiar because our data collection here is just about complete> Calm declaration and casual dismissal

<Yes, I know, because I was thinking that, and thank you for reminding me> Overly agreeable concurrence, brusquely feigned deference, and blatant causticity

<You have also considered the possibility that he has defected from the Clan>! Scrutinizing exclamation and marvel

<Yes I have considered that possibility>! Sudden expletive, condescension, and voluminous annoyance

<My apologies> Awkward concession, shock, and fading effervescence

<Stop repeating everything I think>! Directive with imbedded threat and annoyance

<Again, my apologies> Mitigating concession and daunt

<…> Disgust

<…> Discomfiture and uncertainty

<…> Pause and mild annoyance

<…>! Awareness and curiosity

<I detect it, do not repeat yourself> Blunt dismissal, imperative directive, and annoyance

<How clever of them>! Approving exclamation and admiration

<The ability to shift a city out of the visibility spectrum does not make the society intelligent> Offhand derogatory dismissal and pomposity

<…> Adverse skepticism

<Land over there> Authoritative directive

<I know they cannot see us, but wouldn't we be breaching protocol distance to the samples>? Considerate interrogative, suggestive reminder, skepticism, and latent criticism

<It does not matter because they will not detect us anyway and we need to recharge> Dictatorial dismissal and didactic explanation

<…> Doubt

<Do not worry; even if they notice power surges, they are not advanced enough to discover us> Assurance and disdainfulness

<Fine> Conceded accordance

<Now that we have landed, launch project Archangel> Authoritative directive and eagerness

<I will> Casual acknowledgement

<Have our unit investigate the one they call 'Squall'> Directive and disdain

<Will do> Casual acknowledgement and agreement

<Our recording incriminates this 'Squall' as the possible perpetrator> Stalwart declaration and biased speculation

<The recording is not definitive, and I would make no accusations just yet> Earnest declaration, reminder, intimated compromise, and purposive check

<The Archangel unit will soon prove my worst suspicions> Self-assured declaration, anticipation, stimulation, and deliberate inattention

<…> Hesitance and mistrust

<Anyway, I am going to go check on the prisoner> Self-important dismissal and indifference

<Fine> Callous acknowledgement

<I wonder if we should abduct another specimen to ransom PuPu back in case he is their prisoner> Nonspecifically directed declaration, consideration, and interest

<That is hardly necessary at this juncture, KyKy> Jeering declaration, hint directive, and purposive interference

<We shall see> Self-assured dismissal and disregard

* * ** *** ***** ********

Jeremy's Scribbles:

If you didn't catch this in the notes after the prologue, I have a unique method of transcribing what the aliens are communicating.

The "stage directions" after each line they communicates are necessary, and they aren't stage directions; PuPu's alien clan does not communicate with their voices, only their thoughts. They don't have facial expressions either, which means to communicate elements such as sarcasm or emotion, I have to add the "stage directions" and, if you noticed, keep the emotion-denoting punctuation marks (question or exclamation) outside of the <brackets>.

In actuality, those "stage directions" are called the "pragmatics" of language. The words they actually "speak" are called the "semantics" of language. Because they aren't actually making any sounds with their mouths, I used <brackets> instead of "quotations" to indicate what they want to <communicate> with their thoughts. Also, throughout the rest of the story, thoughts are italicized and speech is unmodified. So what the aliens want to communicate show up <like this>.

However, even by including the pragmatics after the semantics, there is still no way I can differentiate for you which alien is which. If they did not greet each other when a third or fourth being waltzed in, or say their respective names in each line, we would have no idea who the addresser and addressee were for any given statement. That is the flaw of indirect narration, I'm afraid, and I will try to find was to rectify it.

I would appreciate your reviews for this chapter and every chapter so I can see what you are thinking and go back and make corrections for other readers if I see that everyone is stumbling between the same two chapters. It would also facilitate correcting spelling or grammar errors if you would report them in that chapter's review.

Setting 05: 2045 DAY 1, Balamb Garden Ballroom

-Tennyson, Alfred, Lord

Ulysses 22

Quistis laughed agreeably, and then apologized for not being able to change before the banquet. She looked around quickly at all the stately black suits and skirts that adorned the Garden members in the ballroom.

"Perfectly understandable," Cid replied lightly, "to be running late and not have time to change coming back through Time Compression."

"Nothing compared to what it took to get past Garden’s front gate with Rinoa. They still don’t believe she’s a good sorceress," Quistis joked.

Cid snickered accordingly, taking another tentative sip of his wine cooler. He paused and unsure how to proceed, redistributed his weight over his legs and pretended to enjoy the Garden orchestra.

"So what is the real reason for sending Matron and Irvine off to enjoy the rest of the party?" Quistis asked, shifting her balance from her left foot to her right. It was uncomfortable because she had been careless to stomp the ground too hard with it after throwing Irvine’s torso off her shoulder just minutes before. Always trying to impress girls with that overly casual, occasionally too carefree to be respectful, cowboy attitude. Nothing mysterious about that.

She sighed, and thought to herself, "If only Squall would do that."

Cid rubbed the back of his brown-hair-matted head uneasily and forced a cheesy smile. "This probably isn’t the best time to ask this of you, but I have another mission for you lined up tomorrow," he said.

Quistis blinked, and then nodded acceptingly.

"You’re the Headmaster, whatever you say goes. That means you are resuming command, right?"

Cid shifted his spectacles and nodded in agreement.

"I am going to reassert my authority here in Balamb Garden," he answered with finality.

Quistis held both hands behind her back, not sure whether or not Squall would like that. While it didn’t seem like he liked overwhelming responsibility, he didn’t like being demoted either.

"But," Cid continued, brushing some stray piece of hair off his best-looking red vest, "I have something bigger planned for SeeD. I want Squall to go supervise the new SeeDs and Garden trainees in Trabia Garden."

Quistis raised her eyebrows, caught off guard. She hadn’t even thought about the remnants of Trabia since the missiles from Galbadia demolished it.

"Does Selphie know about this?" Quistis asked, gathering her thoughts again.

Cid nodded and informed her that Selphie would be overseeing the 12 construction teams. It was a massive project trying to build a new Garden with brand new designs in a matter of weeks. Luckily they had some funding from some Shumi patrons.

"We were lucky to have Esthar move all those energy cells that responded to the Lunatic Pandora weapon into Trabia. It should save us a pretty Gil," Cid muttered.

"Why did you want to see me about this?" Quistis asked, fidgeting in her tight, pink skirt.

"You’re still the most experienced SeeD I have. I need you to keep an eye on Squall because I won’t be there. I have no doubt that he always makes the best judgment, but he tends to respond better to an environment more populated by his peers. I just don’t want him withdrawing deeper into his world of seclusion," Cid explained.

Quistis gave a sign of acknowledgement, and then asked if she should notify Zell and Irvine.

Cid shook his head, saying, "No, they’ll be needed for a different mission. I’m sending them on diplomatic affairs in Shumi to make sure the Gil flow continues, as well as check out four geographically spread sites in relatively isolated areas and investigate some atmospheric abnormalities that have been reported."

Quistis frowned, her training unable to suppress her instinctive reaction. She didn’t think that diplomacy was the right task to ask of either impulsive young men, and she told Cid that.

"That’s the funniest part," Cid replied with his "I’m proud of myself" look.

Quistis noted that Headmaster Kramer had a sick sense of humor and pitied his wife. Deciding that the conversation was over, she nodded more artificially than she needed to, excused herself, and then went off to find Squall.

"I still don’t understand why you were so adamant about putting your resignation in," Cid sighed, even though Quistis was already out of hearing range.

Not seeing Squall anywhere, Quistis decided to walk past Irvine, wildly videotaping everything, and towards the table where Zell was in a feeding frenzy.

Surely he must know where Squall is, she thought.

Stopping only to comment how wonderful Edea looked tonight, she got to the table about the same time as frolicking Selphie appeared out of nowhere. Somehow she had wrenched away Irvine’s trademark hat and was wearing it with his usual slim yellow outfit.

Zell was furiously cramming down as many of the jealously coveted Garden hotdogs as he could. His girlfriend was begging him to chew more and eat less but either it seemed a good idea to pay attention to her later or try to impress her by gorging himself even more, he continued his rare feast. Quistis caught a bit of what Zell’s girlfriend went on to tell him. Something about her having to leave for Galbadia on an anti-Malboro campaign the following morning. Zell seemed totally unaffected by her news, but he also must have completely misunderstood her because he wished her good luck for her dance competition. Yet, with all the hotdogs stuffed in his mouth, which made him look like a moogle with hives, his words came out as coherently as a moogle would have spoken them.

That's odd, Quistis thought, frowning, I thought Zell's girlfriend was a blonde Balamb girl. Who is this pig-tailed brunette in the Garden outfit?

"Hey, Zell," Quistis called from across the table, "do you know where Squall is?"

Zell had seen Quistis coming, and whether he actually heard what she asked him and tried to say, "With Rinoa," or he mistook her question for "Why were you downloading Rinoa screen-savers from the Garden tutorial?" and wanted to answer, "Not of Rinoa," his reply came out as "wruffa wuffferra." He found out that more went in than came out, immediately choking and spewing out bits of half-macerated hotdog all over. Some landed on his girlfriend’s black Garden uniform, and even though she knew that those hotdog bits were not juicy enough to stain her skirt, even if it had been a color on which a stain would be noticeable, she screamed and jumped out of her seat.

Quistis had already guessed that answer, and was wondering why he even bothered to give such a useless reply. She found it a good time to make some chit-chat and get to know Zell's new companion while they were all huddled around him. Selphie, in the meantime, after making fun of his girlfriend's pigtail hair-style, possibly because she was jealous of the hair’s length, leaned down and with thick, artificial tenderness, asked Zell if he was going to rechew the pieces of food that he had spit out on the table. Zell was desperately looking for a mouthful of milk, but his empty glass did not refill itself and he had to force down the rest of his dry meal by himself. Selphie’s comment didn’t sit well with him so he jumped up, knocking over his chair, and frightened all the ladies away.

Irvine had zoomed in on these four for awhile now, so he was quite surprised when Zell threw a leftover hotdog at him. He wasn’t use to handling laughing and being startled at the same time so he dropped the camcorder. The look on Selphie’s face was enough to make his heart sink and his face apple red. He had already chaffed her by focusing on those three underclasswomen, so he didn’t think this was helping his standing with her.

"T-there’s no problem! No problem," he stammered, picking it up and brushing it off as quickly as possible. He took a cautious peek over at Selphie. She had one of those "There-had-better-not-be-a-problem" look on, with her hands on her hips…Irvine lost his thought when he saw those hips…

"Hey!" Selphie shouted at him, bringing him back to reality with a jolt.

"Nothing wrong at all," he assured her, giving his best "Just-pretend-you-didn’t-see- that-cheesehead-move-of-mine" smile.

"Smooth, real smooth, Irvine," he muttered to himself.

Selphie was still glaring at him. She suddenly made alternating circular motions with her hands, shouting at him, "Well, keep it rolling!"

Embarrassed, Irvine fumbled about with the controls, trying not to look at Selphie’s half-exasperated, half-annoyed facial expression that he knew she was sporting.

"That klutz," she thought to herself critically. She turned away in disgust and found herself looking through the archway leading to the open balcony. Suddenly she noticed her dark-haired girl friend with her usual blue skirt and black shorts on.

"How does Rinoa get her skin to glisten like that?" she wondered enviously.

Catching a glimpse of Squall around the corner, Selphie smiled at the thought that this might be the perfect time for their diffident team leader to make a move on Rinoa. Selphie caught Irvine aiming the video camera at her again with her peripheral vision, and so turned and motioned for him to zoom in on Rinoa shooting the breeze. Irvine adjusted his view accordingly, but was at the wrong angle to catch any part of Squall on tape.

"What’s up with Selphie?" he thought to himself, feeling his hands almost slip off the precious equipment before grumbling, "First she chews me out for looking at girls, and now she wants me to get an eyeful of Rinoa."

Quistis caught up with Selphie just as Squall moved fully into view from where they were standing. Rinoa had pointed at something outside and apparently that was incentive enough for Squall to lean in, take her in his arms and snatch a long kiss reserved for him. Not expecting to find Squall in that position, Quistis held her breath as Selphie cupped her hands over her mouth and squealed in delight.

"Long live the Tonberry King!" she shouted, following it up with, "Squall finally got on first base!"

Quistis remembered to inhale.

Irvine came up to them, asking them what all the commotion was about.

Selphie just stared at him in disbelief for a second, leaving just enough time for little cowboy Kinneas to wonder what he had done wrong now.

"You didn’t get any of that?" Selphie shrieked.

Irvine’s surprise was turning rapidly into fear.

"The batteries ran out," he appealed, figuring that the truth would save him.

Obviously Irvine had forgotten that things work differently in Final Fantasy and as a result, Quistis ended up catching the camcorder that he threw in the air as he sped away from a charging Selphie, fork in hand and close in pursuit.

Quistis passed the camcorder between her hands, wondering how to approach Squall now. It seemed like she had definitely lost him now. After all, he and Rinoa were still on the same kiss. Flustered, Quistis looked away, her eyes finding their way back to Zell’s table. It was empty now, his girlfriend having gone home early, and Zell nowhere to be seen. Something caught her eye and she took a step closer.

There was a piece of paper on the seat. Quistis walked over and picked it up. "Silly girl, she must have left it," Quistis thought, turning it over. What was her name again? Mina*?

has a sequel to my saga and the idea of

Mina belongs to her.

It was a new photograph of Mina and some guy who Quistis thought was pretty cute and had a face that was awfully familiar. She dismissed it as one of those faces that naturally just seemed that way, like the ones those two brothers operating the elevators at Fisherman’s Horizon had. Without giving the snapshot another thought, she looked around for Zell.

She saw him saunter thoughtlessly right into Squall and Rinoa’s kiss off. He caught himself halfway through the act, and cupped his eyes with his palm in dire embarrassment. Squall had pulled away just as Zell came up to them and based on her facial expression, Rinoa was not going to forgive the bumbling fool.

"Poor Zell," Quistis thought, racing over next to Zell in a position optimal for shielding him from any Gun-blade attacks.

The best line Zell could dish out was, "Um, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important."

Squall said that it was nothing. The unfortunate response merited, in Zell’s opinion, one of the dirtiest looks that a pretty Heartilly face could dish out, a shove from Rinoa, and her storming away from the balcony back into the party. Squall looked like someone caught with their shorts down.

What? he shouted in his head. Was it something I said?

Quistis having heard the nauseating exchange, quickly handed the photograph to Zell, told him about his coming ambassadorship, relayed Cid’s message to Squall with a glare, and ran off to comfort Rinoa.

What did I do? he asked after seeing Quistis’ look.

Zell, apparently very excited about his new mission, raised his fist triumphantly in the air, forgetting all about the embarrassing situation they were in. His cheering and victory dance was compounded with some in-place shadow-boxing. Still holding the picture as he wiggled through a tight four-punch combination, it was perfectly visible after his uppercut. Exactly what the picture meant took awhile to register. Squall didn’t notice Zell’s abrupt break in his sting of war hoots and jabs.

"W-Where did Mina say she was going?" Zell asked shakily.

Who? Squall asked silently, barely listening to him. The only Mina in my recollection is that exotic dancer from the club in Esthar.

Zell saw his clueless face.

"The assistant librarian? You know, my girlfriend?" Zell repeated, more frantically this time.

I thought your girlfriend was that blonde chick in Balamb? Did you find yourself a SeeD, Zell? Squall wondered, lifting his eyebrows and for a rare instant, betraying his apathetic mold.

"S-she went home to pack, didn't she?" Zell reasoned aloud, voice wavering.

How should I know? Squall thought immediately, realizing that he had to verbalize it just as he was about to look away.

"How should I know?" Squall grumbled, disturbed more by Rinoa’s reaction to what he said than how Zell had barged in. He would not notice Zell as he scrambled off to catch his girlfriend.

Left alone, Squall rested his elbows on the balcony railing. Closing his eyes, he tried to let his mind go blank, and his spirit free from any anxiety. He was bombarded by confusion, disgust, and resentment.

"Who could understand Rinoa anyway?" he asked aloud accidentally.

He considered the facts. She isn’t even a SeeD. Why is she making me so nervous sometimes and upset at other times? Tonight definitely qualifies as one of those confounding second type of times.

It just didn’t make sense to him what exactly Rinoa wanted from him. Does she actually expect me to say and do everything she wants? Does she want my soul? Doesn’t she like me because she understands me? And if she does understand me, why does she want me to change? Why doesn’t she just excuse me for who I am?

It annoyed him to feel like he needed an excuse to be himself. Squall went on to question whether it was possible to give his soul out so simply. It just doesn’t seem worth it. I can save her from fire and ice, but how much more am I expected to sacrifice? And why does she need me to show her all these sacrifices? It’s irrational. Rinoa is irrational.

Squall considered Rinoa’s bright, happy-go-lucky personality, and finally made the connection between her person and her unreasonable demands. It was just because she was that capricious. True, she is a pleasure to be around sometimes, but if she is going to turn into a Wendigo every few minutes and make everyone uncomfortable, then she isn’t worth it. Besides, she just given up on me.

If this is what you end up raising with the best environment that Gil can buy and the most orderly tutelage an army can provide, a spoiled, fickle brat who hands out headaches to everyone in her path, then I want nothing to do with it, he concluded decisively.

Just to bolster his reasoning, he added, It’s not like SHE jumped into space to save ME.

Squall looked at the moon for a bit longer before reaching in his pocket and pulling out a rolled baby Malboro tentacle from his cigarette case.

"Ifrit," he whispered.

The fiery, horned, dark-skinned Guardian Force appeared beside his master before Squall could finish pronouncing his name.

"Master?" he growled hungrily.

Squall held out the Malboro tentacle roll nonchalantly. Ifrit brushed the end of the roll with his paw and watched it spark to life at the touch of his flinty skin.

"Do you want my opinion?" the monstrous GF offered.

You’re still here? No, of course I don’t want your opinion. If I wanted your opinion, don’t you think I would have asked for it, you dumb ox?

"No," Squall answered without taking his eyes off the moon.

"I didn’t mean about the girl," Ifrit corrected. "I meant about the cigarette. It’s not good for you."

I know what you meant.

Had Squall cared enough, he would have shot back a look smacking of "I don’t care."

I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you. Maybe you’ll go away. Hopefully this time you’ll take that sulfur stench away with you.

After a moment, when Ifrit was still there, he said, "You can go now," waving the GF off.

Ifrit bowed and petered out in a wisp of smoke as fast as he had come, leaving Squall to himself, staring at the myriad of tiny waves, tugging against each other to see who could steal a ray from the moon and shimmer for just that one second.

From behind him, Selphie’s upbeat voice broke the silence. Squall turned his gaze from the giant kaleidoscope below them to the yellow sprite that had thrown herself onto him. He threw her off and asked her what was wrong with her.

Selphie was too hyped up to mind. She just heard the news that she was the head of the construction crews in Trabia. After adjusting how Irvine’s hat sat on her head, she slapped Squall on the back for his promotion to Headmaster and before he could turn and frown, slapped his arm and asked him what he did to Rinoa. He shot her an annoyed but surprised look.

"I didn’t do anything," he defended himself.

Selphie gave the ever omniscient smile.

"Oh," she cooed, "is THAT the problem?"

Squall scowled and told her that she didn’t know what she was talking about.

"Squall’s so cute when he’s growing up," she continued to tease before he decided it would waste less energy by quitting the view and leaving the balcony to her.

"Oh, commander," she added, knowing that the title would make him stiffen, "the President of Esthar left a message for you earlier today."

Doing her best imitation of a sonorous male voice Selphie grunted, "Squall, son, you might want to check it out."

While making his exit, Squall did stiffen at the title, but the hair on his neck bristled at the mention of his father.

As seductively as possible, she called after him, "Rinoa’s so cute when she’s asleep, Squall, but you wouldn’t know that, would you?"

"No," he yelled back flatly, "I wouldn’t!"

Setting 06: 1730 DAY 12, Trabia Heath Peninsula Island

-Dante Alighieri

Had he known that staring at the clouds for one and a half weeks was what Headmaster Cid meant by "checking atmospheric conditions," he would have kicked Irvine out of the Ragnarok and taken his girlfriend instead. The thought of his girlfriend made him shut himself up.

"I think I see Venus!" Zell shouted suddenly, jumping up and down.

Irvine nodded hastily, concentrating more on what he was doing then listening to Zell’s raving.

Damn you two little stones!

Zell still hadn’t removed the binoculars from his eyes.

"Come on, trench coat boy," he goaded, "pay up."

Irvine was getting more frustrated.

Damn you two little stones!

Still gazing at Venus, Zell snickered at Irvine’s failed attempts at starting a fire with his flint. Not that it mattered since he was the first to spot anything spectacular in the last eleven day. Irvine owes me so much Gil…I have it made!

Visibly upset by how things were going with the flint, he got up and hurled the rocks at Zell. He was glad that his target still hadn’t removed the binoculars because there was no way he would have been able to guess that Irvine was a professional sharpshooter based on how much he missed.

Irvine regained his composure, dusted himself off gallantly, then proceeded to pull out his rifle, load two rounds of Fire Ammo, and blasted the foliage amidst his ring of stones to `. Coolly he blew away the smoke coming out of his gun, and put his free hand on his hip as if he were posing for a picture. He lifted his head and scoffed haughtily at the little flames he incited, flashing his best "Yeah, you know who’s all that, you know who’s the bad-ass" smirk. Starting to sway in his victory dance, Irvine hummed to himself, "Who’s your daddy? I am. Who’s your daddy? It’s me. Don’t you know it? I’m Irvine…"

What is with him and his marshmallows anyway? Weren’t they just flour and sugar? Zell wondered. And why was he so obstinate about having them toasted the traditional way? Had he taken a moment to look at the little unconscious jig Irvine was doing, there would definitely be no limit to how much he could have blackmailed him for.

Irvine finally remembered why Zell was so excited. He gave the fire his last "That ought to teach you a listen" glare and turned to his eyes towards the hyped up pugilist.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I said," Zell pronounced extra clearly through his grin, "you’re going to owe me so much Gil that I won’t need my SeeD pay for a year!"

Irvine spit on the ground, undaunted.

"You wanna double that wager, Zelda?" he teased, intent on irking Zell in return for the last week and a half of suffering his companion’s presence had imparted on him.

Zell was in too good a mood to be peeved by such a low-class attempt at knocking his masculinity. "Multiplication increases the amount, genius," he retorted, "but I guess they’ll teach you that next week."

"So three times the wager, then," was Irvine’s answer.

Zell shrugged, saying, "It’s your Gil."

So this assignment does have its perks. This is a dream come true, Zell thought gleefully.

"If you’re trying to appeal to my conscience, don’t bother. I’m not giving any of this Gil back," Zell cautioned, still gazing through his binoculars.

"You know, Zell," Irvine began, "if you had half the brain I had, you’d be rich."

"How’s that? Half of your wealth? No thanks, jolly rancher fruity," Zell returned.

Turning slightly red, but still able to endure it, Irvine continued, "Well, you’re going to be twice as sorry, now. How ‘bout we raise the stakes to loser loses a hand?"

Zell paused, but with him sighting Venus first, he saw nothing to worry about. Irvine must have had a hemorrhage or something…I am going too far, taking advantage of him while he’s mentally unstable? he wondered. Still, it’s safer to restrain myself.

"What are you going to do with one hand?" Zell countered. "Think about it, Irvine, you only have two."

"I don’t need but half of my appendages operational to shoot you dead," Irvine boasted.

Zell put his binoculars aside, turning on Irvine with a nasty scowl. This was about his skills as a fighter now. The conversation had strayed away from the bank and into the arena.

"I could whoop you with one hand tied behind my back right now. Hell, I’ll even close one eye, hot shot!" he sneered angrily.

"I could take your head off with half a gun!" Irvine bragged.

"Ha! Some sniper you are," Zell growled at Irvine who just threw his hat on the ground. "We hired you once and you can’t even hit the open target half the time!"

Irvine was steaming now.

"It’s on now, hotdog trash bucket," he spewed, "we’ll make the wager both hands."

Zell was beyond restraint so he hastily agreed. We’ll see who is afraid of whom.

Irvine smirked triumphantly. That smug idiot, doesn’t even suspect it…

"See," he taunted, "this proves that you only have half a brain, nimrod! You can’t chop off you second hand yourself!"

"That doesn’t change the fact that I’ll still beat you to a pulp!" Zell yelled back.

"Forget that wager, then, chicken," he taunted, before suggesting, "If you lose, you can't sneak upstairs to the study hall and tour the online tutorial for any more Rinoa screen-savers."

Irvine pointed at something behind Zell while he thought about the new consequence, and then handed Zell the binoculars just as the boxer remembered to protest Irvine's slander that carried some ugly insinuations.

"Look again, space boy," he jeered, "where’s your Venus now?"

Zell made a face back, rudely snatched the binoculars from Irvine, and looked through them again."

"See that red thing over there? The first interesting thing we’ve seen in weeks. Pay up, loser," he gloated.

"I had to turn a few gears in my head, but I can’t believe how great my idea was!" Zell shouted, pumping his fist in the air, beaming with pride. "All I had to do to win the bet was whip out the binoculars and spot things farther than you can see."

Laughing, he clapped his hands together before pumping both fists.

"Zell, you get a pat on the back for this one," he said to himself, bringing the binoculars to his eyes for another look at his treasure. "What can I say? I’m a genius."

Irvine tapped the lens and rapped Zell on the head, inducing him to go into a fighting stance and initiate a few jabs. Irvine grabbed the binoculars and turned them around.

"I don’t know if they taught you this in grade school, but most people look through it this way," Irvine said flatly. "That red thing you saw would be the Ragnarok."

Zell’s jaw dropped four inches before he helped it back up with his hand.

Impossible! Backwards? There is no way this happening to me! he bemoaned.

"Great idea with the binoculars, partner," Irvine rubbed in. "What can I say? You’re a genius."

"B-but it was red!" he sputtered, refusing to believe his egregious error.

"Was color recognition your only qualification to pass the SeeD test at Balamb Garden?" Irvine questioned.

Zell was too embarrassed to mumble anything except, "I know I saw Venus!"

Irvine lifted his hands above his head, shouting, "In broad daylight! Are you mad?"

"Did you not know to look through the smaller lenses, Zell?" Irvine pressed on after regaining his composure. "Or maybe they’ll teach you that in school next week."

"Okay, okay, I get the point," Zell conceded grudgingly, "but that doesn’t mean you win."

"No," Irvine agreed, "but it will make a hilarious story to tell at dinner parties for years to come."

Zell paled at the thought. Not again. Stupid, so stupid of you, Zell. There’s no way out of this one. Better change the subject before he thinks of other ways to rag on me.

"All right, maybe I wanted to see something, anything out of the ordinary so badly that I made it up? Is that okay?" Zell said, feigning a confession.

Irvine thought about it, still shaking with laughter, but didn’t add anything else. Come on, buy it, buy it, Zell repeated in his head.

Seeing as how he had no more quips left to dish out, Irvine finally shrugged and agreed that they got stuck with a stupid mission. A thought suddenly struck him and he lit up like a bulb. I still have a bag of marshmallows left! Better stop wasting time and tend to them.

Irvine crouched down and started kindling the small flames, nearly extinguished because he hadn’t fed the fire during their bickering. Damn little stones, but thank Eden for Fire Ammo, he beamed.

Zell was horror-struck. Sometimes, I just don’t understand him.

"Irvine, how can you sit there all day long toasting those stupid powder puffs?" he asked, exasperated. "I mean, couldn’t you at least roast some chicobos or something tasty?"

"Shut up and keep your eyes open. You might find something," Irvine chuckled.

"Hey," Zell protested, "why shouldn’t you be paying attention to this mission? We’re both responsible for a satisfactory report, you know?"

"I don’t think Cid’s going to be satisfied with anything after how you handled those negotiations at Shumi Village," Irvine assessed.

Zell spun around, nostrils flaring.

"Don’t shift the blame to me, you rooftop weasel! I wasn’t the one who stepped over the chain and sat on the Elder’s pre-made coffin thinking it was a bench," Zell shouted, pointing a finger accusingly at Irvine.

Irvine ignored the comment, saying, "Let’s go back a few days in time, shall we? What kind of idiot ambassador would drink from the sanctified reception pan?"

Zell held up his hands in defense. "They offered it to me!"

"To wash your fingers, monkey-brains. Do you know how many generations of consecrating and reconsecrating that pan you’ve destroyed?"

Not to mention how upset you made the Moomba when it spilled on his tail.

"How was I supposed to know?" Zell hollered penitently. "I don’t know any Shumi customs! I don’t refer to myself in third person! And I don’t identify myself by my profession!"

"And you obviously didn’t see how every officer there dipped their fingers or flippers into the holy water," Irvine reminded him.

Stupid, so stupid of you, Zell. Just like that time you gave away Garden’s name in front of the cameras at Timber.

"I can see the announcement to all the Trabia Garden workers now," Irvine continued, framing the image he saw before him with his hands, "Balamb Garden student Zell Dincht unilaterally brings all Nova Trabia Garden construction funding to a halt."

"Whoa, hold your horses, cowboy," Zell pressed. "Just remember you where you tossed all your empty marshmallow bags. I’m sure the Nest Mother was thrilled that you thought her baby cradle was fit to be a wastebasket."

"That was stupid," Irvine admitted, "but nothing compared to what you did to the Artisan’s hut, smart guy. Can you even imagine how many years he’s worked at the request of the entire village on Laguna’s statue, that same one that was crushed by the ceiling? You’d better hope they send the next month’s credit instead of the repair bill or Cid will hang us both."

"At least we got out of there with our heads still attached to our necks," Zell said hastily.

"You have to give the Shumi credit for their intelligence," Irvine went on. "After all, they finally did figure out that kicking Zell out as soon as possible would be the best way to save Gil."

Actually, Irvine contemplated after reconsidering, if they were really bright, they would have killed us to protect their investment in Arabia…Eden knows what Zell could do to the new Garden’s foundations if he had leveled the Artisan’s hut on accident.

Zell frowned, crossed with their situation and annoyed that the elevator taking them back up to the surface and out of the village seemed to move a lot faster than the initial trip down into the village.

Irvine licked his lips hungrily, only paying attention to not overcooking his snack. His partner looked over at him, half-annoyed at his disconcerting fetish for marshmallows.

"I still can’t believe you put together so many bonfires. Do you know how it’s a capital offense in some of those districts to start a brushfire even on accident?" Zell asked.

"Every place we went to there was always someone who had done it there before I did. I was just following their example," Irvine pointed out.

"One burnt patch of grass does not make the entire frigid’ field a marshmallow-toasting reservation!" Zell practically screamed.

"Nobody seemed to mind on Mandy Beach or in the middle of Kashkabald Desert. There wasn’t any danger of starting brushfires in those places," Irvine offered.

"Nobody toasts marshmallows on the beach or in the desert, that’s the point! It therefore can’t be a federally sanctioned marshmallow-warming site, just like this can’t be," Zell shouted.

Not content with standing around impatiently while Irvine was enjoying his favorite pastime, Zell was just itching to add, "How many packs have you eaten today?"

Instead, he tried, "Look what you’ve done for the fourth time!"

His eyes a bit tired of the sporadically glistening sparks, Irvine finally took the time look up away from his business and inspect the ground around him. Zell crossed his arms and stood back with a self-satisfied air. They were standing in the middle of a field littered with burnt patches of grass left by Irvine’s random blazing.

Shrugging and squatting back down, Irvine assured Zell, "This is the last bag, which means we’ll have to head back soon and restock. We’ve been out here too long and we haven’t come up with anything new. Sooner or later they’re going to start wondering where we are since the Shumi flop was happened last Monday."

Zell threw his hands up in the air, yelling, "Get with the program! We can’t go back! We flunked this mission, doofus. We have nothing, after eleven days, to report. Nothing at all!"

Zell held up his hands by Irvine’s face and wiggled his fingers, whispering, "Nothing."

After some consideration, Irvine suggested, "You know, if you lightened up a bit, you’d realize that Cid thought enough of us to let us check out all the marshmallow-toasting grounds rather than all the mosquito-breeding farms."

Zell glowered, reflecting bitterly, Yeah, right. Cid thought enough of me to team me up with Irvine instead of any of the girls.

"You’re not helping our cause," Zell said after a moment. "Should we pack up and head for the hills?"

"What? And leave the Ragnarok here? I think not," Irvine scoffed.

Zell pondered over Irvine’s suggestion.

"You’re right," he decided after a moment. "There would be nowhere to hide the ship."

Irvine laughed, but quieted himself when he saw Zell’s pupils widen in agitation.

"Or," Irvine said slowly, "we could try what we should do…GO….BACK."

"Don’t you get it?" Zell hollered, unable to contain himself. "We have nothing to report!"

"We could tell them the intelligence we gathered from Laguna," Irvine proposed.

Zell had turned bright red.

"Hand it over, Irvine," he ordered, "whatever you’re using that’s affecting your judgment. I’m not kidding."

Irvine held up his hands worriedly.

"I’m not high on anything, Zell," he stammered.

"Think about it, bullet-brain," Zell told him. "If you tell Squall about any of Laguna’s ‘I’m going to be that father figure that he never had’ stuff, Squall will flip out. If you tell Cid about what Laguna said about the cow missing from Winhill, Cid will flip out. We’re supposed to be monitoring the weather, remember? We have nothing to report!"

Irvine scratched his head, shifting his hat ever so slightly. Apparently even the tiniest bit of jostling was enough incentive for Irvine to carefully adjust his headwear back into its original position instead of offering a solution, much to the annoyance of his company.

Zell could feel the hot vapor jetting out of his ears. That stupid hat of his. He's been fiddling with it for a minute and it still looks like it's in the same place. It's just like Rinoa combing her hair.

"We could tell Cid about Mr. Monkey," Irvine suggested after he was done moving his hat around.

Zell checked to make sure he heard right, then checked to see if his partner was being sarcastic. He'd heard correctly, and there was no sarcasm. Zell's immediate reaction was to kick some sand in Irvine's direction. Do you know how retarded you sound!?

"He'll have us demoted 27 levels to a Lv 4 SeeD!" he cried. "What the Ifrit are you thinking?"

"Intelligence is intelligence," Irvine piped happily.

Zell rubbed his temples before responding, "Irvine, you have none and we have none. You know, I can't believe you can't even find the right shore. How on earth did you mistake Obel Lake for Mandy Beach?"

Irvine colored slightly.

"So I couldn't tell the difference between the compass north and true north. At least we didn't wander too far from Timber," he said, tipping his hat apologetically. What are you going to do? Shoot me?

"And to think you actually had a conversation with that sea monster," Zell scorned.

Irvine shook his head.

"I was just being polite," he explained. "The least we could do was help him find Mr. Monkey."

"Do you know how crazy that sounds?" Zell retorted. "He probably just made that up so you'd stop humming and go away."

"My humming was nothing compared to you chucking rocks into his lake," Irvine returned.

"Well," Zell parried, "in case you didn’t notice, I was trying to drive him away from the shore, not to attract his attention like some raving idiots I know, who shall remain nameless…IRVINE!!!"

In his mind though, Zell was actually starting to regret not helping that sea creature out. At least then some good would have come out of the trip.

Had we actually gone to Dollet or leafed through the entire forest and found that fur ball, this wouldn't have been a total waste of our time. Now Cid’s going to string us up and feed us to the Blobras in the training center.

"We have zilch to report then," Zell huffed.

Irvine smiled, lifting the stick with his browned marshmallow from the fire.

"Well," he put forth, "as my mom used to say, ‘If you have nothing to report, you should at least have something in your stomach.’"

"You just made that up!" Zell shouted.

Irvine shrugged. So maybe I did. What are you going to do? Shoot me?

Irvine snickered at the thought, and offered, "It could be worst." Dammit, Irvine…knock on wood.

Zell had already put his binoculars away and was packing the rest of the camp up. Irvine looked up and asked what he was doing.

"You got the keys?" Zell asked, brushing off the question.

"I thought you had them," Irvine replied honestly.

"Hey, that’s funny," Zell played along, but resumed the straight face. "No, it’s not. You were the last one driving, so what did you do with them?"

Irvine had stopped fanning off his steamy marshmallow, sensing imminent trouble.

"I don’t have them, see?" he said, patting his pockets.

Zell could feel himself freaking out. He tried to jump around and release all the anger in him that wanted to blow its way out. It was a given that the show-off driver would not have a sense of direction and would get lost, but I didn’t think the keys would too.

"Irvine," he said so calmly that it worried the addressee, "remind me again why we even need the keys to pilot the fingerprint-scan-initiated Ragnarok?"

Irvine tried to swallow before answering, but either his mouth was too dry or the swelling lump in his throat was blocking the passage.

"Laguna had the Esthar mechanics modify it to key-ignition mode because he was afraid we might burn off the skin on our fingers while toasting marshmallows."

Zell’s face froze for a second before he let out a series of profanities that called the name of every GF. He was breathing hard by the time he finished, muttering to himself, "The irony is sickening."

That’s the result of years of suppressing your feelings right there, Irvine thought, lifting both eyebrows. I wonder if Squall’s outburst would be stronger than a dose of Omega Weapon’s Terra Break.

Zell took a deep breath, letting the anger flow out of him.

"Irvine," he said, "start crawling around and look for them. I’ll go search every inch of the ship."

Irvine was about to argue that it was unfair since there was more surface area to cover on the field than in the ship, but he wisely held his tongue. As Zell hurried off, Irvine threw his marshmallow aside with a sigh, and looked sadly at the turf around him.

"It’s not in the ignition, Zell, if that’s where you’re heading first," Irvine called after him.

We’ll probably all laugh at this someday in the future.

Setting 07: 1417 DAY 15, Nova Trabia Garden Basketball Courts

-Tennyson, Alfred, Lord

Ulysses 11

That cry surprised Quistis as she was walking across the basketball courts. She considered not stopping, but turned to see who was calling for Rinoa anyway. It's not like they're calling for me, so why am I stopping? she asked herself. But I could have sworn Rinoa told me that she was going to stay in Balamb for two weeks to let things settle in Trabia before coming.

A few sweaty underclassmen ran up to where she stood, looking her over in a manner anything but subtle.

"Hey, Rinoa," they said amiably, "wanna play a game with us?"

They must be talking past me. Better check.

Quistis looked behind her to make sure Rinoa wasn’t standing right there, and then realized that she was being eyed by at least ten hormone-charged young men. Looking around, she saw at least three other games had stopped to gawk at her. She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended.

I think you have the wrong person.

She heard some shoving, a few "oohs," "ahhs" and whispering. Someone passed a word of caution, "Watch it fellas. That’s Squall’s girlfriend. You'd better be careful." The guys dismissed it casually.

Quistis liked the sound of that and repeated it to herself.

That’s Squall’s girlfriend. You'd better be careful.

"Hey, Rinoa," a guy off to the right chimed in, "when did you dye your hair blonde? I thought it was black."

He called me Rinoa.

"Yeah," another player added, "but it still looks great."

That guy called me Rinoa.

"Yo, Rinoa," another one called, "Squall’s not here right now. Do you want me to show you the ropes?"

Quistis was coloring, and she knew it. She wanted to make a grab at her whip and teach a few of them to watch their mouth, but she knew better. Have to control myself. You used to be an instructor. It doesn’t look good on your report to have slaughtered a team of Garden basketball players.

"Hey, I think we have her flustered," shouted someone standing in front of the growing crowd. "See? She’s shaking all over."

Maybe switching down to a size 2 today wasn’t the best idea ever.

There were hoots and some jeers followed by a torrent of pick-up lines. It was then that Quistis realized how just how precarious it was to leave her curvaceous little frame sitting in a sea of testosterone. But a part of her kind of envied Rinoa as she moved away. Or so she thought. She heard some disappointed groans behind her, but it was soon drowned out by the jostling of feet. It was painfully loud since nearly all of the games had been halted just to ogle at her.

Quistis turned around again and saw that the distance between the front line and her had closed, despite the steps she had taken in retreat. Looks like there’s no way out of this one except the hard way.

There were some pretty lusty offers being openly thrown out now, as well as some dirty talking. She wasn’t sure what the best way to handle the situation was. Unlike at Balamb Garden, where all her devoted "Trepies" would only talk about her behind her back and dream about her when she wasn’t looking at them, there was no such docile fan club here. They also didn’t realize here at Trabia Garden Quistis outranked them even if she didn’t have her instructor status anymore, and that she could have ended their miserable lives if she felt the need to do it. But as it was, no one was there to hold them back, and she had to re-evaluate being jealous of Rinoa before taking off in a mad dash to the far side of the court where there was at least one other game still going on.

Abruptly she stopped, realizing that she had made the wrong choice and now faced a corridor that led to the men’s locker room. Dammit! Diablos take you, girl! Cornered!

There seemed to be no alternative so she reached for her whip as they closed in. In another second their hands would be all over her. She grimaced.

"Rinoa! There you are!" some masculine voice shouted from the back.

For some reason, everyone stopped and took a step back as criminals do when they’re caught red-handed. Quistis stood on the tips of her toes, but she couldn’t see who had addressed "Rinoa." The voice didn’t sound like Zell or Irvine’s. It had to be Squall’s.

There was a lot of pushing and complaining as the owner of the voice made his way to the front. Suddenly a group of students in the center of the multitude fell cried out in pain and fell to their feet. There was definitely a scuffle going on, and the ring of students that fell grew larger. Obviously the stranger had decided that it was quicker to fight his way to the front than to weave through the swarm of men. Quistis wondered if her rescuer was Squall, and if he was, where did he learn hand-to-hand combat like that?

Suddenly her protector took flight. He wasn’t retreating; rather he had used the back of one of the fallen students as a stepping-stone and was now running on top of the shoulders of everyone in front of him at an alarming speed. Quistis, as well as all the onlookers, could hardly keep up with him as if their eyes could only see where he had been during his last step. His person was a blur, stepping here and there while kicking every other head he passed, finally making a daring leap off the nose of one unfortunate soul whose face would forever bear his heavy print.

Quistis did not realize how large the crowd had been until she saw the distance between where the man jumped and where he landed, three feet from her. Immediately the crowd made room for their new guest. Two meters seemed a safe distance from his flurry of kicks.

Holy Shiva, Quistis marveled, he hasn’t even broken into a sweat.

The stranger dusted himself off. Seeing Quistis, he brightened and ran over to her, beating back any of the extended hands that had frozen in place when he initially called out from the very back.

Quistis had never seen this gentleman before, almost taking him for Squall judging by his voice and hair. She hadn’t been able to get a good view of his face while he was blur, but now she could see that while his eyes effected the same profoundly grave look, his mouth was shaped just a tad bit differently from Squall’s. Who is this guy? she thought.

He pushed her behind him and shouted back at the horde, "Get the Ifrit away from my girl, you underclassmen punks!"

His voice and demeanor were equally frightening, shown by the unanimous decision of the crowd to back up another meter. Either his earlier performance in the crowd had convinced them that Quistis was not worth the fight or every one of them understood that the ominous glimmer in his eyes meant that he was looking forward to kill someone.

Oh, to Diablos with it, Quistis thought. She didn’t have a choice anyway, so she grabbed on to the taller man’s arm just to authenticate their mock-relationship. He tensed up when she did it, making her wonder if she should let go, but the crowd seemed to buy what he said, so she didn’t. If he didn’t look so much like Squall, this probably wouldn’t have worked since there’s bound to be some people who have seen him. At least his color scheme matches, even though I’ve never seen Squall don a cloak.

There were murmurs coming from various members of the mass. Half of the voices indicated that they believed him to be Squall. Another part thought it would be in their best interests to make a run for it. Everyone left over wanted to stay and see how this affair would end. The wrapped one arm around Quistis for effect, he kept his sharp eyes on each and every movement.

This feels so warm.

Upon realizing that she was actually starting to enjoy this, Quistis kicked herself mentally.

"I’m Squall Leonhart, and I have a decision to make," the stranger declared evenly. "As the commanding officer of SeeD, I can treat this incident as some pretty serious gang harassment, bring it to the attention of the Disciplinary Committee, and report every face that I’ve seen today to have you expelled from all the Gardens..."

During his deliberately extended pause, most of those students who were in clear view either covered their faces or turned around, but no one was ready to leave the spectacle just yet. Quistis herself, by nature a modest girl, was starting to wonder whether she was that desirable.

"...or," the man continued, giving Quistis a quick pat on the head that would have effected a quick death blow had this been a normal situation, "as an angry boyfriend, I can use this as the perfect excuse to wipe these basketball courts with your faces."

The last line came out in a menacing growl, which dislodged a few of the front-runners from their places, to the surprise of Quistis. The majority of the students were still unconvinced though. Someone out of view mentioned that Rinoa wasn’t even a SeeD.

"And neither will any of you be if I have anything to do with your recruitment, which I do," the man barked back.

Quistis was too impressed to close her eyes and fall asleep on his arm. She was starting to feel like a little girl again, shaking off her respectable shell of maturity that had encased her since her promotion to SeeD instructor.

"The way I see it," the stranger continued, "your best chance is to disappear as quickly as possible because I’m only going to give you until the count of five before you get to help me mop the court and paint the boards red."

It was as fearsome a threat as it was effectual. As the first count sounded, panic seized the students and they dispersed, the entire body making a quick 180 with the back trampling over the front in their race to get as far away from their Squall as they could in five seconds.

For some reason, her bodyguard skipped the next three numbers, went directly to "5," and eluded her grasp. In an instant he was on the other side of the quad, nabbing three of the slower students, and ramming another’s face into a stucco column, splattering it with a new coat of scarlet. He heaved his three remaining screaming captives over the quad’s wall into a student seminar and, in three bounds, made his way back across the courts to where some of the more daring players had returned to harass Quistis, assuming her protector had left. They assumed wrong.

That's not humanly possible! she thought furiously as he punched each of them multiple times before they could react and slammed all but one aggressor into the same lamppost, resulting in its bending 30 degrees.

Quistis was more alarmed than impressed at this point. He had saved her, but she couldn't excuse him for the body count. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this last underclassman had no chance of running away faster than the hurricane could catch him.

I guess it's up to me to stop him then. Do I really have to? Yes, girl, you're a senior officer and you have to set an example. Do something before there is nothing left to save!

"Squall!" she shouted, throwing her arms around him so he couldn't move. It caught his attention and as he spun around, still in her grasp, he nearly dug his fist into the curve of her neck. It took every ounce of strength in him to stop the blow after he'd thrown it on instinct. Quistis could feel him tensing up and sighed at how lucky she was, nearly fainting right there.

The last student had fallen down in fright, but being too shaken to crawl away, he just lied there and whimpered.

This was the closest thing to a voluntary hug that Quistis had ever given, and she figured while she was at it she might as well rest her face on his chest, signaling to the junior to pick his feet up and split.

Run, stupid! I'll hold him off.

Her last thought was laughable, and she giggled at it, snuggling deeper into her six-foot teddy bear.

Yes, in order to save the future of SeeD, I will sacrifice myself to this demon…ically handsome freak of nature. Maybe running into that crowd of men dying to get their hands on me was the smartest thing I’ve done this week.

She locked her arms around his shoulders so he couldn’t budge. Without looking up, she asked shyly, "Well aren’t you going to tell me who you are?"

"Nice grip," he commented.

That’s a pretty weird name, she said to herself.

"That was a compliment," he added after a few heartbeats had gone by..

"Oh," she gasped, blushing at her silly oversight.

"There he is!" someone unexpectedly called in their direction from the main corridor.

Both Quistis and her pillow tensed up simultaneously. If she had fooled herself into believing even to the slightest extent that "soft and cuddly" aptly described any part of his figure, she was proven dead wrong. At a second’s alarm, rippling muscles filled every inch of the baggy but still fashionable costume that she wouldn’t have known existed had she not been partially inside his cloak for the past minute.

The hall filled with similar shouts and many portentous footsteps. Quistis eyes widened when she saw every single member of the disciplinary committee running towards them, followed by seven, she counted again, seven sentinel regiments, the entire band armed to the teeth with weapons ready to fire. Even the stranger had wavered. This was one fight in which he felt no urge to make an appearance.

Maybe they’re here to collect these dooshbags that tried to grope me, Quistis thought optimistically.

"Stop, thief!" one of the security guards in the lead shouted, lowering his gun to about eye level and pointing it straight at her…or rather the man who had just saved her from a very sticky situation. His reinforcements cocked their guns and aimed them right at her rescuer’s forehead.

Okay, maybe not. He must be one hell of a thief to incur the attention to the entire Garden Disciplinary Committee and half the school’s enforcement resources!

"This is your only warning," the leader informed him mechanically. "We will shoot if you move."

"Sergeant Jay," he called to his subordinate, "apprehend that man."

Quistis was not prepared to handle this dramatic reversal. Her protective instincts urged her hold him in fear of what might happen if she strayed too far to shield him while her danger sense pressed her to push the criminal as far away from her as possible. Both her mind and body reacted on reflex to the situation without her making clear which to follow, so she ended up awkwardly pulling him closer to her with her left hand and shoving him aside with her right hand.

To her surprise, he whispered to her, "Don’t worry. I never walk away from a fight."

She was about to shout at him, "Forget the maxim and get moving!" when he slipped through her hold and zoomed across to the far side of the court in the same phantasmal manner as he had done earlier, leaving Quistis with a frown on her face.

Very funny, coward. Chivalry being dead, I’ll try not to feel miffed, she told herself dryly. Oh, Shiva!

Sergeant Jay had a knack for reading people’s body language. Today he had a feeling just by the glint in their burglar’s eyes that he was going to make a run for it. So as soon as he saw the rabble-rousing ruffian bend down slightly and threaten the blonde in the red skirt, he pulled the trigger of his pistol. By the time he saw the man rocket away from the girl, moving her slightly, it was too late to stop the bullet. The girl realized too that the shell was now headed straight at her. All the armed security guards stiffened.

"Ah!" she screamed, feeling the impact whose force now knocked her off her feet.

There were some gasps, and when Quistis’ vision cleared, she looked up dazedly, only to see the cloaked Squall-imposter standing above her, his hand weakly planted against the nearby wall for support. He turned back! Oh, he’s hit!

The man was bleeding pretty badly. After he knocked her out of the way, the bullet landed between this shoulder blade and sternum. There was blood gushing out at intervals from the corner of his chest where the shot had pierced his black shirt, some parts of the desultory squirts landing on her outfit.

Seeing that the bullet ended up in the right person, all the guards snapped back to life, lifting their guns once again and pointed them at the wounded villain. It would definitely be easier to catch him now, having drawn so much blood with the critical hit. The man’s legs wobbled as he struggled to straighten up.

The explosion of another shot ten times as loud as the misfire filled the courtyard and adjoining hallways. The few remaining students that hadn’t high-tailed out of the area at the sight of the Garden militia jumped out of their skins. All eyes turned to the source of the eruption and found the smoking gun of a lone cowboy, tipping his hat at his newfound audience. Behind him in the clearing was Zell, somersaulting from a dribble and dunking the ball through an untended hoop.

"What the Ifrit are they doing?" Quistis questioned under her breath.

Irvine had seen the whole sequence of events and now faked an embarrassed smile, dropped his gun like he hadn’t meant to touch it, and apologized to the Disciplinary Committee about his gun going off on accident. His free hand on the far side of his body was not visible to the company of security guards, but it was visible to Quistis and their burglar. Irvine hurriedly motioned for the brigand to get take off, and faster than he thought possible the man traversed seven meters to a eight-foot wall over which he scrambled and disappeared. The security guards could not react in time to get off any well-placed shots.

Only Sergeant Jay was far enough ahead of his group and close enough to Quistis that he saw Irvine’s furtive wave to their perpetrator. Quistis could tell he was not happy that Irvine distracted the units and purposely let him escape.

Sergeant Jay marched up to Irvine, who by this time had gone to help Quistis up, hissing at him so that only they could hear, "I might not have any witnesses who can testify that you abetted our criminal’s getaway, but had it not been for your meddling, he would have been ours. I think they’d all agree."

With his last sentence he motioned towards all the guards behind them.

Irvine coolly looked his addresser in the eyes and rejoined, "I might not have any witnesses who can testify that you were purposely aiming for Quistis’ head since no one else was remotely in that proximity but her by the time you fired, and had it not been for that man there, she would have been dead. I think they’d all agree."

With his last sentence he motioned towards all the guards behind them. Irvine could see Sergeant Jay’s jaw muscles tightening and his fingers closing into a fist.

"This is not over, trigger," he growled at last, putting his finger right in Irvine’s face. Then he marched back to his division and apologized to his commanding officer for failing to capture their target. Eventually all the troops cleared out of the corridor, leaving Irvine and Quistis scowling at the fading sound of footsteps.

Irvine looked back at Quistis, gloating. He opened his arms and asked, "So what do I get-"

She had pulled him down and landed a wet one on his cheek. He was utterly stunned at how little persuasion that took. Nothing like the cold shoulder she gave me at the party.

"Geez, you move fast, Quistis," he said, laughing. "Guess that admirer of yours isn’t the only one with fast moves."

He found himself lying flat on his back in the dust a second later.

"That’s what you get for not coming to help me sooner," Quistis carped.

Irvine jumped up with an incredulous smile. I just saved your tight hiney back there!

He was in the middle of picking himself up when she kicked away the leg that he was putting all his weight on. He landed face down this time. I’ll never understand women.

"And that is for the smart remark," she added before leaving him and strutting towards Zell.

She only made it halfway before she felt a cool kiss on her ear. She nearly jumped, and turned her head quickly but her eyes did not pick up on anything. Irvine is still deciding if it’s safe to get up, so who in the Ifrit touched me?

She felt the cool kiss again and realized that it was just Shiva, cozying up to her as always. The icy, voluptuous GF was in her stealth mode, her body acting as a transparent sheet and thus appeared invisible.

"What are you doing here?" Quistis whispered. She had to be careful to not speak in Shiva’s direction, knowing well how her breath would become visible vapor in Shiva’s chilled vicinity, a dead giveaway of the hidden GF’s presence to Irvine.

"Princess, you called me, remember?" Shiva turned the question around, each one of her chilly words nipping Quistis’ cheek. Quistis’ face always seemed to be rosier after a touch of frost.

Quistis looked aside and recalled that she had mentally exclaimed, "Oh, Shiva!" just as Sergeant Jay unloaded his gun in her direction.

She hissed acerbically to Shiva but tenderly nevertheless, "You took your sweet time getting here."

"You called at a bad time. I was trying to take a bath," the other answered back softly, caressing Quistis’ chin.

Shiva was now dancing around her, playing with her hair and massaging her shoulders. If it hadn’t been so hot outside, Quistis would have told her to stop, but since it was, each cool stroke felt splendid.

"Just be careful not to step on the ground while you’re flying. In this heat, your bound to be melting a little and they’ll notice your curious little wet footprints," Quistis cautioned. It used to be hard to speak without moving her lips, but she had gotten used to chatting with Shiva day after day in this manner.

Shiva snuggled in for a chilly but sugary hug, whispering back, "You’re always looking out for me, but I’m the one who’s supposed to be the Guardian Force, remember?"

"Yeah, good job protecting me today while I was standing in a crossfire," Quistis teased.

"I told you I was busy," Shiva murmured.

"Yeah, busy waiting for the bath-water to thaw," Quistis emended playfully.

She could imagine Shiva pouting with her trademark "You’re no fun" face. For someone thousands of years old, Shiva still looked and acted like she was 17.

"Well, I didn’t want to intrude," she explained innocently. "You looked like you had company."

"Yes, and thanks to him you still have someone to guard," Quistis rejoined with feigned bitterness.

"I’ll thank the dear in my own way the next time I see him, then," Shiva replied smoothly. "He did look kinda cute."

For some reason what the GF said ruffled Quistis a little.

"You’d better get going. You might start steaming under the sun and it won’t look to discreet if I approach Zell while engulfed in a fog," Quistis said under her breath.

"Toodaloo, then, sweetcheeks!" laughed Shiva as she flitted back into nothingness. Somehow she managed to sneak in a quick kiss before her Mistress could do anything.

Quistis had now gotten closer to the court that Zell was occupying, and he looked up from his practice. Irvine was now just a few steps behind her, his legs still shaky from her putting him in the dirt. Zell set the ball down, waved to Quistis, and then looked around with a puzzled expression. I don’t see Rinoa anywhere.

"Where’s Rinoa? I thought I heard someone call her a few minutes ago."

Quistis blushed and muttered, "No, just little, ol’ me. Someone thought I was Squall’s girlfriend."

Zell reddened and then hit himself again. Oops, now look what you did, Zell. Stupid, so stupid of you, Zell. You knew it was a touchy subject, so why didn’t you just shut up?

Quistis realized that they hadn’t paid any attention to what was happening outside their own game and only Irvine had bothered to go over and check out what was so noisy in the fight’s closing minutes.

"Didn’t you see all that commotion back there? Why didn’t go check it out?" she asked.

"It’s bad luck to leave in the middle of a game," Zell explained.

"Why did Irvine come over for a look then?" Quistis remarked.

Zell shrugged and stated the obvious, "He was losing."

"11-3 is hardly losing, mama’s boy," Irvine chimed in.

Zell raised his fists belligerently, growling, "Just remember that's in my favor."

"So what are you doing here anyway?" Irvine inquired, hastily changing the subject.

"What are you two doing here?" Quistis returned. She was totally unprepared to deal with them.

"He asked first," was Zell’s childish reply, unexpectedly jumping in and helping Irvine. Irvine nodded and shot Zell a grateful look. He bent over to pick up the basketball before looking back over at Quistis, just to let her know that they were waiting for her answer.

"The number of robberies in the past week are skyrocketing. I’ve been trying to find Squall since noon to ask him what precautions should be taken and whether it was about time to assign a special task force to solve the problem. I looked in all his usual hiding places, and someone told me that he frequented the basketball courts, so here I am," she explained.

"Wasn’t that your problem that we let jump over the wall?" Irvine asked, shooting a jumper.

Quistis blinked. She hadn’t connected how good at stealing things the stranger was with his agility and how many complaints of robbery were coming into the Garden’s security department mailbox. After today’s odd sequence of events, she was even less sure how to handle the situation than at the start when she was trying to solicit Squall’s advice.

"Ok, your turn to answer why you are here," Quistis said, moving on.

"Because we finished our SeeD Lv A-class mission, of course," Irvine shot back with an overly proud and cheesy grin. Had to answer her somehow. This was better than nothing.

Just to draw everyone's attention from his weak answer, he launched the ball towards the hoop.

Zell started sweating. Please don’t ask us why we didn’t report back to Balamb Garden. Please don’t ask us why we didn’t report back to Balamb Garden. Please don’t…

"Why didn’t you report back to Balamb Garden?" Quistis asked, skeptically raising an eyebrow.

"Trabia was a lot closer than Balamb Garden," Zell said hastily. "I mean, we’ve been practically ten minutes away from here for the past few days."

Plus we wouldn’t have to answer to Headmaster Cid directly if we were at another Garden, Zell added silently, pretending to watch Irvine as he made another shot attempt.

"Why didn’t you guys rest and eat here then? There’s plenty of room," Quistis asked.

Like we didn’t think of that all that time we were stranded out there, Irvine reflected bitterly.

"We had, uh, plenty of ration bars on the ship," Zell made up after an extended period of silence during which he pretended to be looking at something in the distance.

"Yeah, lots of ration bars," Irvine agreed too quickly to be taken seriously with overly enthusiastic nodding. He coughed as a distraction and tried an underhanded toss.

"Like rooms full of ration bars," Zell repeated, just to make sure she didn’t miss it.

"You’re not in trouble, kids," Quistis said quickly. "Headmaster Cid said you completed your mission just as he expected."

Irvine misfired when he heard that, and exchanged puzzled looks with Zell.

"The Shumi signed the contract agreeing to fund this Garden to its completion," Quistis explained. "Apparently, just as Cid figured, you two left them thinking how weak-minded and exploitable the new Garden trainees would be once it was built, giving them every reason to make the rest of the payments. He also got you two out of the way for two weeks so you wouldn’t screw up anything too serious to fix during the initial foundation construction."

"Never had a doubt that we couldn’t handle it," Zell beamed. Thank Eden! I was so scared. Hey, wait, I’ve been used. They used me, how dare they! Wow, I’ve been used, that’s so awesome!

"Yeah," Irvine added with a big smile as he threw the ball up again, "we eat double missions for breakfast."

Breakfast is my least favorite meal. We lucked out big time. Hey, wait, I’ve been used. They used me, how dare they! Wow, I’ve been used, that’s so awesome!

He and Zell gave each other high-fives and broke out into a big celebration, praising each other for all the good things that they did and did not do alike. At the same time they inched towards the archway leading to the exit.

"Back to your second objective," Quistis cut in before they had a chance to sneak away, "did it really take you two weeks to check out the weather?" The two men froze but instantly recovered and tried to mask the guilt written on their faces with innocent smiles.

Don’t think I didn’t notice how you two dodged my original question. I still remember, Quistis thought coolly. She put her hands on her hips and waited for a real answer.

Just play dumb, Zell proposed silently.

We should play dumb, Irvine agreed mentally, trying his luck with the rim again.

Don’t play dumb, Quistis communicated with her glare alone.

"It wasn’t our fault that we just got a list of geographical locations and no directions as to how to get to those places," Zell and Irvine whined in harmony.

Quistis crossed her arms. They obviously practiced that for at least three hours.

"I don’t buy it. The place names are unique, there is no other Mandy Beach, regardless to what landmark you are using as reference," Quistis scoffed. "Try again."

Irvine and Zell put their heads together to brainstorm some other possible excuses when Quistis spoke up, "And the truth this time. I’ve already lost a GF today, was nearly gang-raped by an entire courtyard of boys, been held at gun point and shot at, so I really don’t need you two lying to me."

The faces of both men grew interested so immediately and concurrently that Quistis could tell it was deliberate. Irvine even set the ball down, either because it would have proved distracting to their conversation or he felt it better to stop embarrassing himself.

"Gosh," he exclaimed, simulating a flabbergasted expression, "how did you manage to lose a GF?"

"You’re not getting off that easy," she said, just so they’d know, "but I suppose if you’re interested..."

Her two-man audience played the roles of sympathetic, appreciative, and engrossed listeners too perfectly to be convincing.

"I lost Alexander this morning," Quistis said, sighing.

"The GF that looks like a castle?" Zell asked.

Quistis nodded, her hands closing over each other in anxiety.

"What do you mean you lost him?’ Irvine questioned. "What did the castle do? Get up and walk away without anyone noticing?"

"Drop the sarcasm, Irvine," Quistis told him. "He didn’t just walk away. He asked me first."

"So you managed to lose a very polite castle," Irvine summed up what she was saying, putting on a serious face and trying to understand.

Zell would have liked to see if Quistis could grammatically link all the profane expressions, but he felt it necessary to interrupt Quistis while she was unloading more rounds of blasphemy on Irvine than he had Pulse Ammo in his gun.

"Didn’t you try to stop him?" Zell asked her, not looking at Irvine truly grateful face.

"What was I to do? Stand in front of him and hold up my arms while he mowed me down?"

Zell furtively punched Irvine before Quistis could turn and see him signaling that the idea had merit.

"No, I meant with your words," Zell explicated. "I’ve never seen you get outtalked by anyone."

Quistis beamed at the honest compliment.

"I did try, but he had made up his mind already," she elucidated.

"Why was Alexander so eager to go?" Zell tried next.

"Not to mention," Irvine jumped into the conversation, "where could he have gone?"

"He seemed to think that it was now or never, so he just got up and moved out into the ocean," Quistis recalled with a frown.

"Oh," Irvine acknowledged, nodding with comprehension, "so he didn’t just wander off and disappear." I wonder how long it will take to dry and scratch off all the algae that he’ll have picked up by the time he resurfaces.

"No," Quistis reassured, "he asked me to give him a sabbatical."

"I didn’t know SeeDs were in the business of giving their GFs vacation time whenever they ask for," Irvine marveled. No wonder you got fired from being the SeeD instructor.

"This is after he threatened to quit my employment," Quistis added.

"So it gets better," Irvine grunted, obviously pleased.

"What else did he do?" Zell asked, ignoring his partner’s air headedness.

"He wanted to go on strike," Quistis replied.

"What kept him from carrying out either action?" Zell inquired.

"I told him that the SeeD manual only allows for the Master to rescind employment, not the GF, and that the Supreme Court had outlawed GF strikes," Quistis replied.

"So he just got up and left?" Zell repeated.

"As if Alexander was going to use the ‘Sit Down’ as a strike tactic," Irvine cracked.

"That’s unconstitutional, by the way," Zell whispered to him before continuing, "Did he say what the purpose of his journey was?"

"It was all unintelligible," Quistis replied. "I had a hard time understanding him, but I think it has to do with some book."

Zell and Irvine raised eyebrows concomitantly.

"What book?" they asked in harmony.

Quistis scowled and tapped her forehead, trying to put piece everything back together. She sighed at length and shrugged, making her best guess:

"I think he said it was titled ‘Alexandria’ and that it had a face on the cover."

"It must be one special book," Irvine commented. "Is he in the habit of collecting books?"

"Have you ever seen his library?" Quistis answered with her own question.

Irvine was apparently too good for libraries, so he teased, "I’m not the one who frequents libraries to pick up the librarians. That honorably practice belongs to our mutual friend Zell."

Zell colored, crying indignantly, "Hey! Mina was a model before she started working in Balamb Garden."

"Some model she must have been if our library can afford to pay her more than she was making," Irvine criticized.

Quistis saw that the men would soon come to blows if she did not step in, so she intervened by describing the library.

"I’ve been inside Alexander a few times and the library is pretty queer," she began. "It doesn’t operate like a normal library, rather a private collection. No one is allowed to borrow any books and taking them from the room is prohibited. He kept referring to ‘Alexandria,’ so I suspect it is the reason behind that rule."

"And you think this book drove him to leave," Zell finished for her, grudgingly putting aside how Irvine had impugned his girlfriend’s capacity.

"It had to have been. That’s all he was mumble about," Quistis replied with another shrug.

Irvine rubbed his chin, wondering what a castle could mumble about a book.

Quistis read him perfectly, and reacted saying, "He went on about a blue rodent that lived inside his book between the pages 165 and 200. No one was to flip through it under any circumstance because it was dangerous."

"What can I say?" Irvine admitted smugly as he did some stretches. "Reading is deadly and should be avoided at all costs. I rest my case."

Zell scowled and said to Quistis, "You’re right, it is kind of random. Do you recall anything else he might have said? Any words that caught your attention? Place names, maybe?"

"Galbadia I heard twice definitely. Something about waterfalls. That’s it," she replied.

"Why didn’t he think it could wait?" Zell probed.

"Did you see this coming, or has he never exercised such impulsive behavior before?"

Quistis thought it over before answering, "He was always the quiet type. You know, he never talked much."

Irvine called upon a dreadfully contemplative look. Ah, yes, the quiet castle, I know the type well.

He was lucky that Quistis was too busy trying to recall something about her GF to look at him, otherwise he would have ended up on the ground again. Her face suddenly lit up.

"I remember now!" she cried, beaming. "The moment we reached the Deep Sea Research Center, he’s been volatile."

"That’s a weird reason to be disruptive," Irvine remarked.

Zell agreed before asking Quistis if there were other points in time when Alexander demonstrated a plethora of atypical behavior. It was a tough question, so Quistis took some time before answering it.

"I believe," she said tentatively, "he became more withdrawn as time went by, and even after we left the Research Center I could sense some hostility in him."

"You should have fed him at the right times, walked and played with him more," Irvine chastised, shaking his finger at her.

It would be major euphemism to say that Quistis was less than pleased. The truth of it was that she was a hair shy of spitting fire.

Irvine eyes were nowhere near as dumb as his mouth, and he suppressed his gasp to look dejectedly at his shoes. I could have sworn at a distance she looked better than a Red Dragon!

"No," Zell interrupted, "let’s think this through. Obviously what happened there started to worry him and whatever the rodent in the book told him unnerved him enough to pack his bags and hit road, so to speak. What is his relation with the Deep Sea Research Center?"

Irvine rolled his eyes and said, "You aren’t taking this rodent episode seriously, are you?"

Quistis shushed him, sensing that Zell was almost on to something.

"There had to be a cause for his urgency," Zell reasoned aloud. "Did he mention any names besides ‘Alexandria’?"

Quistis licked her lips and pondered for a bit.

"He was talking rather quickly, but I think he may have mentioned Bahamut and Eden," she pronounced slowly.

"So he went into the ocean to do what?" Zell continued, still trying to figure out the connection between Alexander, Bahamut, and Eden.

"To find whatever the book told him to find, I guess," Quistis responded.

Zell looked skeptical.

"Impossible," he said. "There is no way he could have excused himself and left the purpose of his trip so ambiguous. If there is an urgency, there has to be a cause. If he is responding, then he must think he can still do something to placate the emergency."

Quistis’ face froze and she slowly lifted her head.

"’To keep Bahamut from my township and die for Eden’," she recalled.

"Did he say that?" Zell asked. "What township then?"

Quistis shrugged, saying, "Beats me."

"So do you think he was looking for a township then?"

"Looking for one to claim as his own," Quistis suggested.

"That will be hard, considering there aren’t that many unclaimed towns lying around," Irvine pointed out sarcastically.

"Thank you, great Irvine, master of the obvious," Zell boomed with every intent to cow him.

"Maybe he didn’t mean all the nouns literally," Quistis suggested. "Could ‘Bahamut,’ ‘township,’ and ‘Eden’ be symbolic?"

"As in battle evil for world peace?" Zell asked doubtfully.

"That’s not naive," Irvine scoffed, tipping his hat.

"So just to make sure I have this right," Zell said, "the rodent told him to do protect the township?"

"I got the impression that the rodent tipped him off, but that the actual order came from someone else," Quistis replied.

Zell looked at her curiously. How in the world did you infer that?

Quistis explained quickly, "I think Alexander was confused at the time, but he seemed to think that I had told him to leave."

Irvine smirked at Quistis’ words. I’d say he was pretty confused then.

"I don’t follow," Zell admitted.

"He just repeated over and over that I had told him to leave, which of course is absurd," Quistis clarified.

"To leave, but not to save the town and all that jazz," Irvine observed.

Zell nodded, seeing where Irvine was going with the issue.

"Yes, so maybe he’s leaving because some other Quistis dismissed him and he’s trying to indulge

"That other Quistis must have been pretty dumb," Irvine commented lightly.

"I concur with your opinion about the weak-minded other Quistis," Zell followed up, nodding.

Quistis had meanwhile turned bright red.

"Stop talking about me like I’m not here to hear you!" she shouted, taking a few unconscious steps towards them.

"Sorry," Zell apologized, suppressing his laugh while he and Irvine both took a few unconscious steps back, "but the idea that you told him to go save the world is even more ludicrous than him running off to save the world by himself."

"If ‘Bahamut’ and ‘Eden’ aren’t symbolic terms, why would he mention them?" Quistis countered.

"They’re his fellows," Irvine noted, "so why shouldn’t he mention their names?"

"Actually," Quistis corrected, "Alexander secretly hated the two GFs with passion."

This was news to Zell, and it would have been to Irvine had he not been preoccupied with catching a midget Bite Bug whose presence had somehow offended him. Zell leaned in, saying, "Come again?"

"He never spoke to Bahamut," Quistis informed him, "and every time he passed by Eden, he’d stiffen."

Irvine scratched his ear and asked how she could tell when a castle stiffened.

"I think we can discount the symbolism theory," Zell spoke up, directing her attention away from Irvine.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because there is a more probable and viable connection between Bahamut and Eden than what they could mean symbolically if you stretched them," Zell assured.

"Such as?"

"We acquired both of them in the Deep Sea Research Center," Zell stated simply.

Irvine nodded and reminded Quistis, "Yeah, it took three Red Dragons to get to Bahamut on the first floor, and we had to draw Eden from Ultima Weapon in the basement."

"Holy Shiva, you’re right!" Quistis exclaimed. "But what do they have to do with Alexander?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, but all that’s important is that he will eventually come back after he finds it, right?" Zell replied, popping his knuckles.

"I’m not sure if he’ll ever return," Quistis responded, "because he mentioned settling somewhere above three parallel waterfalls."

"Sounds more like a place of fantasy than reality," Irvine remarked.

"Did he get this idea from the book, too?" Zell asked.

Quistis nodded, her body language expressing clearly, "What can you do?"

"There’s one thing you can be sure of, though," Irvine guaranteed.

Both Zell and Quistis turned to look at him.

"He’s convinced that his time is almost up, and that your time together is definitely up. Obviously it wasn’t a vacation that he requested; it was a resignation," Irvine concluded.

He hit it right on the mark. For a long time, no one spoke but dead silence.

"Well," Irvine comforted, "if it makes you feel any better, you only lost GF, but Alexander lost his sanity."

"Fine," Quistis wrapped up abruptly, "I’ve said my part. Stop dodging my original question and tell me why it took you two that long to get back."

Seeing how they had no more options, Irvine pointed at Zell at the same time Zell pointed at Irvine. Quistis held up her hands and started walking away, regretting ever asking. Irvine picked the basketball up for another shot. Quistis assumed it was because he would not be satisfied until he lost all face.

"Nutrient bar boy here dropped the keys in the field and it took us two days to find them," he answered hastily.

"Save it; I don’t want to hear it," Quistis said, rolling her eyes as she moved out of hearing range.

Squall, where are you? she wondered, but still glad to be back on track. It didn’t take long for her mind to wander astray though, and soon, without realizing it, her thoughts turned to wondering who her tall, cloaked rescuer really was.

Irvine took one eye off the spot on the backboard for which he was aiming to watch Quistis disappear around the corner of some building. He shouted over to Zell, "Hey, we can keep playing now. What was the score, 6-7 my lead?" he asked.

"You wish. You stink at this game. Don’t think that during her gabbing, I didn’t notice the ten practice shots you took from that same spot where you're standing now all rattled out," Zell quipped.

"It was actually only eight shots if you kept count, but okay, 8-5 your lead, then," Irvine tried.

"It’s not negotiable, Irvine," Zell said with finality.

Irvine lifted his nose and projected his "Who needs you" vibes. Then he smiled sneakily as he called for his GFs. Tonberry King and Jumbo Cactuar appeared out of thin air and fell a few feet onto the court, adorning the originally flat surface with four ugly indentations.

"Hey," Zell protested, "that’s cheating!"

Irvine stuck his tongue out.

"No one is saying that you can’t pull out your own GFs, crybaby," he teased.

"You know I don’t have any GFs junctioned right now!" Zell shouted.

Irvine shrugged. Your loss.

"You’re going to get into some big trouble," Zell cautioned.

"Who would be bored enough to hang up some "No GFs on the court" signs around here?" Irvine reasoned out loud. "No one. So it’s not against the court rules."

Zell looked anything but convinced.

"Besides," Irvine added with a casual shrug, "Quistis isn’t here."

"That’ll work," Zell conceded readily, eyes flashing, "but let's make it a quick game. I gotta go upstairs to the computer room."

"It’s your turn, Doomtrain."