Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Life isn't a standard SeeD spell. It can be stocked, it made a fantastic enhancer, but it can't be cast without the proper permissions and reviews. In order to cast Life, Quistis had to write a justification, take a special course, and pass a practical exam.

It's a tricky spell that requires exact timing. Life will only take hold at the moment of death. Not a moment before and not a moment after. If the cast is the slightest bit off the spell will be wasted and the person will stay dead. The remnants of the failed spell rendering even a Phoenix Down useless.

Phoenix Downs are better in the long run for SeeD. They're cheaper and the margin of error for their use is far more forgiving. Get the potion in the person within two minutes and the potion will do the rest. It's hard to carry the clunky bottles around in a standard ruck, but Garden deems it an acceptable inconvenience for the benefits it provides.

The real problem with them is that Phoenix Downs only have a 73% chance of working. Even when correctly administered there is still that slight chance that it will fail. Life, if done right, stands at a 100% success rate. It also restores more health, leaves fewer scars, and studies have shown it's better for long term health for the individual.

That was reason enough for Quistis to work hard to obtain the necessary permissions.

The license and free access to the magic aren't the only thing she was left with at the end of the course. She has two nigh invisible scars running the length of both her forearms. She made them herself with a razor sharp knife. The memory of that day, the practical exam, will always be as vivid to her as the days she obtained the rank of SeeD and then Instructor.

~

Her heart beats impossibly fast. Adrenaline putting her on edge as her body instinctually prepares for battle, to get away from the danger. She fights it down to bring the knife up and purposefully inflict harm on herself. It's a shock how quickly her skin opens up under the blade. A gaping wound that doesn't hurt or bleed at first. Making her stare at it in dumb fascination. The sudden welling of bright blood shocks her more than the sudden pain of it and she fumbles as she quickly opens up her other arm with trembling fingers.

Then she lays back and stares up at the bright lights of the classroom. Doing her best to ignore the clinical stares of her partner, Xu, and the Instructor, the way her breathing seems to be the only sound in the room, the slick warmth of her own blood running down her arms and soaking into her uniform. Swallowing thickly she tries to focus on her heart beat. To count the beats to calm herself, but for once it eludes her.

Ice slowly creeps up from her fingers to her arms. Spreading in a wave that negates any warmth she feels from the blood. The blood that is spreading out in an ever widening pool around her soaking into the jacket she'd folded up and carefully placed out of the way.

Quistis blinks and wrenches her gaze back to the lights, not sure when she'd looked away. Her breathing picks up again. Labored gasps that she has no control of. Her body, starved of oxygen, tries to make up for it with deeper, quicker breaths. The lights are blinding in their brightness and she squints against them. Feeling tears prick her eyes at the pain of it. At the pain and icy coldness of it all.

Panicking she reaches for the potions lined up right beside her. Her arm raises half an inch from the floor and thumps back down. It takes all her effort to turn her head to look and see it. The slowly trickling blood and twitching fingers that refuse to co-operate no matter how she struggles.

Quistis realizes she's dying, that she is going to die. Her vision going dark or blank as she suffocates under the lack of air. She closes her eyes and sees nothing different as her awareness fades.

She's gone and doesn't even know it until fire sweeps through her body. Jolting her back to awareness and life --Life-- with a sensation that is and isn't painful. She gasps. Tastes the circulated air and the iron tang of blood on each breath, and thinks it's the sweetest thing she's ever tasted.

She shivers and tries to remember this moment. The seconds she spent on the edge of life and death slipping away from her with each passing minute. Swallowed up by the scratch of a pen against paper as the Instructor carefully examines her. Giving her time to gather herself.

"Good," he finally looks up. Giving Xu a curt nod, and handing Quistis the bloody knife. "Again."

Quistis trembles as she holds the knife. Fingers slipping in the tacky blood that stains it. Silently repeating all the lessons she's memorized for this.

Because casting is the easy half of the course objectives. Anyone can cast. It takes a unique perspective to cast Life though. One that is only gained from death. From the experience of dying.

Quistis brings the knife up and does it again.

Chapter Text

SeeD 0-432 is not viable material for the Hostile Tension and Violence Control program.

SeeD Dincht, Zell is not a good candidate for the role of a Hostage Negotiator.

Zell Dincht is the worst choice to send as a negotiator.

Zell has no fucking place trying to talk some crazy bastard with a gun out of a house.

Zell stares at the opening sentence to his report for a few minutes before groaning and crossing it out as well. Even after a full two hours of trying he can't quite word the colossal fuck-up that is his operation that began with him being assigned the mission.

Seriously, whose bright idea was it to put him in charge of a hostage negotiation?

Zell's a fighter! Give him an opponent and he'll beat the crap out of them. Give him a target and he'll go find them and beat the crap out of them. Give him a mission and he'll find something to beat the crap out of. He's very good at beating the crap out of things. That's what the 'hand-to-hand specialist' line in his file means.

It also kinda implies that Zell isn't so good at dealing with people in a calm and rational manner.

There were plenty of other people they could've assigned the mission to. Like Quistis! She's the very definition of calm and rational. She'd done hostage negotiations before. Hell, she'd taught the class on it before Zell got his rank as SeeD. He remembered it well because he'd passed it by the skin of his teeth.

Squall could even- Well, no, maybe not Squall. He's even more calm and rational than Quistis, but in a way that's the total opposite of her. With his track record he'd probably have decided the best way to negotiate was with his gunblade. But even then Squall would have been a much better choice than Zell!

Selphie? Zell's pretty sure she'd have ordered a bombing run with the Ragnarok. Which is actually worse than his attempt hut not by much. She would've pulled it off somehow though. No matter how crazy the plan, Selphie always seems to be able to make it work out for her in the end.

Irvine! Irvine would've been perfect for the job. All the guy does is talk and charm the pants off people. He would've had the whole situation solved in an hour or less. Talked that crazy bastard into opening the door and letting him in, or at least convinced him to look out a window long enough for a bullet to make further negotiation unneeded.

Any one of them would have been a better pick. They were all there when Zell got the emergency mission. So it could have just as easily been passed on to the more qualified people. It wasn't like they didn't know what the situation was after all. It was the first line in the hurried brief he got on the way in.

Why'd it have to be him?

Zell stares blankly at the crossed out lines of the report. He's used most of the page up already and ought to get a new one. Crumpling the used paper up he tosses it towards his overflowing trashcan. Screw the opening line. His name at the top should be enough of a sign for how fucked up it all was. Picking the pen back up, Zell begins to write.

At approximately 1741 five shots were fired and all communication with the hostile was lost. At approximately 1750 SeeD 0-432 led a breach team into the building where the hostile was found dead of a self-inflicted shot to the head. The hostages [one adult female, three male children] were found dead in the back-

It was a colossal fuck-up.

Chapter Text

Something had to be done about the elevator. It wasn't enough that there was only one small elevator for the entire school, it also had to be the slowest in the world. A fact that too many people took advantage of. Squall had been cornered by too many people wanting, "Just a word," while waiting for the damn thing.

Just like today.

"No," Squall resisted the urge to rub his aching head, it would be taken as a sign of weakness and then he'd never get any work done, "and that is final."

"Come on Squall!" Selphie pleaded, clasping both hands to her heart and giving him her best kicked puppy eyes. "It's just a party. You've never had a complaint about any of the celebrations I've planned yet, what's so different about this one?"

"Tradition," Squall hurried to cut off her protest before it'd even begun, "A tradition that I think is well founded, and have absolutely no intention of breaking. Ever."

"It's a celebration in honor of a legend!" Selphie had given up on pleading her case and instead scowled in a way that failed in all ways to be intimidating. "What kind of a message does that send to the world!? That Balamb Garden is too good to honor heroes from the past?"

"No, it'll say that Balamb Garden is not interested in giving it's students anymore reason to be hormonal and stupid than they already are," the students and the faculty really didn't need any encouragement in that direction. Plus, Squall didn't think he could handle the inevitable talk he'd get from Dr. Kadowaki about the casualty rate if Selphie had her dance. "I mean it Selphie. There will be no Valentines Day dance."

"Squ~all!" Selphie nearly threw herself onto him clutching his arms in an almost painful grip that lost the 'almost' very quickly. "We need to have this dance! Please! Please, please, please!"

"No!" The conversation was over. Squall leaned back against a wall and used a knee to push Selphie back while trying to pry her off his arm. "Let go."

"It'll be great!" Selphie grunted at the knee jabbing in under her ribs, but refused to give up her grip. "Everyone will love it, and nothing will go wrong! We've got to have this dance!" Selphie gritted her teeth as Squall pushed a hand under her chin forcing her head back uncomfortably. "Right Zell!?"

"Huh?" Zell stopped at hearing his name, turning to see the grappling duo. "What are you doing?"

"You agree with me!" Selphie gave up her grip on Squall's arms to drop to the ground and knock him off his feet. "Right?"

"Agree with what?" Zell watched them both warily while taking a few cautious steps back.

"You do agree!" Squall opened his mouth and she pounced forward covering it before he could say anything. "Just say yes!"

"I, uh," Zell took two more steps back and checked to be sure the hall was clear for his planned escape. "Well- Hey, there's a gil on the floor over there!"

"Zell! Ow!" Selphie jumped back at the sharp pain in her hand and glared at Squall. "You bit me!"

Squall got back onto his feet and took his time to re-adjust his jacket while Selphie cradled her injured hand. By the time she'd gathered herself enough to take up her attack again the elevator finally arrived. Moving quickly he grabbed the disembarking passenger and shoved them back into Selphie while stepping in and hitting the third floor button. "No dance, and that's final."

"No!" Selphie shoved the man off of her and leapt at the closing doors, punching the metal in frustration when she didn't make it. "That's so unfair!"

"Somehow, I'm just not feeling the love today," Irvine muttered picking his hat off the ground and turning around. "Was that Squall?"

"He's not going to let me have the dance," Selphie wailed. "Can you believe it? It's only Valentines Day, the most romantic day of the year, and he won't let me throw a dance for it! What am I going to do? I have to change his mind!"

"Whoa, calm down there," Irvine grinned as he draped one arm around Selphie. "You don't have to have a dance."

"What do you mean I don't-"

Irvine ignored Selphie's outburst and continued, "Besides, weren't you planning to test out your new speakers that day?"

"I- what?" Selphie looked up at the man suspiciously.

"Your speakers," Irvine grinned and began to steer them both towards the Quad. "You wanted to get the whole committee together to take out the decorations so you could dust them off."

"Oh, oh!" Selphie giggled. "I remember now! It's going to take us all day, because we need to hang them up to properly dust them."

"Exactly," the Quad was nearly empty and Irvine gestured towards the permanent stage, "and if the equipment works right the band'll be staying all night. Just to keep your people company."

Selphie spun around taking in each quarter of the Quad and nodded decisively, "And if anyone should wander by they can help out too! I'd better make sure I've got enough food to feed them all. I'm sure everyone will be starving, and they'll deserve something for helping me out."

Irvine grinned as Selphie began to excitedly plan out her "Sanitationaly Tidy, Volunteer Day." ST-V Day was sure to be a huge success with the students.

Chapter Text

Zell's way-too-expensive board was destroyed. It lay on the ground in little tiny pieces that would never be repaired again. Kinda like the door he'd blown through, oh, and his ego too. Couldn't forget the ego. Or his masculine pride.

Instructor Trepe's eyebrow arched higher as the last of the shrieks gave way to girlish giggles. She looked intimidating and dangerous even when wrapped in a fluffy pink bathrobe with toothpaste foam still clinging to the corner of her mouth. “What do you think you’re doing, cadet?”

Zell whimpered praying his balls wouldn't be the next thing to be broken.

~

*

~

Chapter Text

Quistis didn't mean to slip up.

It wasn't her fault though. That was all Irvine who, through some convoluted form of logic, thought the fastest way to get the files they needed from the top shelf was to hoist her up into the air to grab them. Which would have been a better plan if he'd informed her of it before reaching over and grabbing her around the waist. His broad fingers digging into her sides just enough to draw a startled sound out of her that made him drop her as quickly as he'd picked her up.

Irvine stared at her with wide eyes. Disbelief already fading into warm amusement that turned mischievous as she watched. "Why, Quistis, I never even suspected."

"Irvine," the warning came out sharp but just a little too high pitched, giving away her anxiety. She knew the sniper far too well to believe he would allow this newfound weakness to be dropped. Her arms crossed tightly around her stomach, blocking any further attempt to reach it. "Don't you dare."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Irvine said with a smile that no one in their right frame of mind would ever trust. He advanced on her slowly, fingers flexing as he looked for a hole in her defenses.

"Irvine-" Quistis said as she backed away. Not letting herself get cornered in the cluttered room, and trying to maneuver her way towards the door.

Irvine wasn't having it though. He stepped neatly to the side, putting himself between her and freedom while still advancing. A gleam entering his eyes as she dropped her hands to take a more offensive stance. Defense would get her nowhere in this situation. Her only hope was to attack.

"Don't think I won't hurt you," Quistis said in a low, even voice as Irvine came within arms reach. She met his eyes with a hard glare that did nothing to deter him. "I will, Irvine. I'll do it!"

"Now, now, Quistis," Irvine began one hand moving in an airy gesture she'd seen him use on feral chocobos. She refused to follow it's movement. Keeping her gaze focused on the other hand which was still poised and ready to strike. "No need to be so violent."

Quistis snorted, crouching down slightly and leaning forward to protect her core more.

"There will be no violence if you-" Quistis broke off with a shriek as Irvine darted forward. Faster than she was anticipating. One hand blocked the automatic punch she threw and he turned to take the brunt of her knee on his outer thigh. His unoccupied hand went straight for it's target. Fingers skittering over her stomach like a spider as he tickled her.

Quistis gasped and doubled over immediately. Which only trapped Irvine's hand and freed his other to reach her sensitive sides. Quistis thrashed and slapped at it as she choked on a combination of squeals and laughter. "Stop! Please, Irvine, don't!"

Irvine was merciless though. His rich laugh echoed along with hers as he wrestled her to the ground. Both hands finding and exploiting her ticklish spots until Quistis was nothing more than a teary eyed wreck of laughter. He didn't let up until she was nearly sore from it.

"I will kill you," Quistis said, panting and exhausted, "if you tell a single soul about this."

"I'm a gentleman, Quissy," Irvine winked and tipped his hat down at her. "I don't kiss and tell."

She aimed a solid kick to his shins and chuckled as he cursed and hopped backwards.

Chapter Text

Quistis gently probes her aching jaw. The area is tender and slightly swollen, but isn't bad enough to waste any potions on. Seifer had never been the type to think clearly through his anger. His punches had been more like a wild tantrum than the accurate and disabling blows she knows he's been trained to use. She's torn between being thankful for that and wanting to put in a recommendation for remedial hand to hand combat training for him.

The mirror shows the skin on her jaw darkening as a rather promising bruise develops. Quistis frowns and reconsiders her earlier thoughts before reaching for a potion. The swelling is just noticeable enough, and when she confronts Seifer in the detention room later she doesn't want to give him anything to be smug about. He's going to be hard enough to handle as it is.

The harsh ring of her phone distracts her from the warmth of the potion spreading. She barely has it to her ear before Xu's voice barks out, "Almassy assaulted the guards, he's gone."

The line clicks and goes dead, Quistis doesn't need any more information though. She can already fill in what Xu had not said, and is running through the halls within seconds. She spares a moment to think about picking up a GF and some magic, but strikes the thought knowing that the process would take too long and she'd lose Seifer.

It's a monumentally stupid move, the reasoning side of her mind is compelled to point out. Seifer has never made it a secret that he doesn't like her, especially within the past few months, and he's already shown his willingness to harm SeeD personnel with his latest stunt. He's even already attacked her. Going after him with only her weapon could be a deadly move on her part. Quistis has become used to ignoring that little voice when dealing with her students though.

Former students, she pushes the twinge away, this was not the time to deal with that.

A crowd is gathering around the detention room forcing her to dodge or plow over the gawkers. As she speeds by she can see one man being lifted onto a stretcher, and that the door to the room is broken cleanly at the lock. It would have to have been tampered with before hand to break that cleanly. How long before and by whom are unimportant for the moment.

Quistis ignores the calls of the faculty. A team of SeeD are already analyzing the room, and another is no doubt ransacking Seifer's dorm. She knows the procedure, lock down the Garden and conduct a search from inside out to ensure nothing is missed. The procedure is well thought out, and in most cases would have the errant student caught within an hour.

Seifer isn't a normal student though. He knows the procedures for one thing and it strikes her now that he hadn't had his weapon with him when he was taken to the disciplinary room earlier. Quistis has never seen him without his gunblade before, she wonders why she hadn't caught it before. Seifer's planned this breakout long before he started acting up. The standard procedures won't catch him, and by the time SeeD personnel make their way out of Garden he'll be long gone.

"Garden is being locked down," the announcement chimes over the PA making her lean into her sprint.

Quistis already knows where he is going. His fit over the team sent to Timber had been loud and clear before they'd been able to toss him into detention. She knows the strategies Seifer favors. Bold actions with precisely measured windows of opportunity that can be counted in seconds. There is no doubt in her mind that he'll be in Timber long before the bureaucracy of Garden issues orders to pursue. It's clear to her that the only person who has any chance of bringing him back was her.

Quistis repeats that reasoning as she hurtles over the turnstiles, and breaks so many of the rules taught to her. There is no other way. When this is over she'd talk to the Headmaster about it. Cid would understand even if no one else ever will.

She jumps the wall of the entrance way taking to the hills without pausing. It's a more direct path to Balamb than the road, but it exposes her to more monsters which is no problem with her speed. She can only hope he decides to stick with the road as it should make up for most of the headway he has on her.

Minutes blur by as she outruns monsters and fights the mud that wants to cling to her boots. The burn of her headlong sprint is making itself known when the walls of Balamb come into sight, and she uses it to bolster her race. She doesn't see him on the main street which means he must have had more of a head-start than she first thought. The sudden piercing shriek of a whistle jolts her and she rushes past the conductor at the train depot thankful her instructor's pass will be current for another day.

The train jolts to life under her feet making her stumble as she enters the passenger cars. A few people are in the public cars and she quickly moves back to the private ones. A businessman and a newly wedded couple protest her barging in, but Seifer isn't to be found in any of the compartments. It's impossible but she continues to the private SeeD car using her ID to open it. The car is empty, and Quistis stares in blankly still breathing harshly as her mind races to catch up to the implications.

Damn it, she outran him. The next train to Timber shouldn't leave for another hour though, which is plenty of time for SeeD members to be sent to the station if the Headmaster can be convinced to mobilize without orders. Quistis wipes the sweat off her face and steps back heading further down to the communication room at the rear of the train. If she can get a line directly to him she knows that the Headmaster will listen and they can bypass the most time consuming steps of finding a runaway student. Quistis steps through the door calculating how to do exactly that and is caught off guard by the hard shove that sends her slamming into the window.

"You look a little flushed Instructor," Seifer grins impudently as he steps into the hall. "Did you run all the way out here to see me off?"

"Seifer," Quistis coughs getting her breath back and slides down the hall trying to get more space. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm taking a vacation," he matches her steps, effectively preventing them both from drawing their weapons in the tight space. No problem for him, unarmed he holds all the natural advantages. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"Listen to me," Quistis straightens up. "You can't do this, disciplinary measures will be taken for your actions so far, but if you interfere with the Timber team's mission in any way they're going to kick you out."

"Kick me out," Seifer laughs, his face drawn tight with anger. "You think I care anymore? You know how much work it took just to get a contract for her? All Garden cares about is money! They needed our help and Garden just kept denying them, and when they finally do give her help all they send are three inexperienced rookies!"

"And what are you going to do!?" Quistis snaps back, reaching forward and fisting both hands in his coat pushing him back into the wall. "You have just as much experience as they do, do you honestly think your rushing in half-cocked is going to do any good?"

"Well it sure as hell can't make it worse!" Seifer snarls smacking her hands lose and shoving her back against the window again.

Her head rattles as she hits the window, the extra lurch of the train taking a curve sends her sprawling as the floor seems to slip from under her. The jarring impact helps clear her mind though, and for the first time since Xu's call she thinks instead of reacts.

Seifer smirks down at her completely unruffled and guiltless. The tight hall won't allow him to use his gunblade, but he can easily negate her weapon by simply closing in and throwing her around. He's junctioned too, as close as they are she can feel the low thrum of magic in his blood. She has no GF and her Blue magic is useless if she wants to bring him back alive.

She's finally done it. Gotten herself into a situation that she can't get herself out of. Not that it matters. The rattling of the train tells her they've passed the point of returning to Garden. They're in the underwater tunnels now, and the train won't stop again until Timber. All she can do now is work on containing him, and she has no illusions how well that will go for her.

It's another failure, and it tastes bitter on her tongue.

Chapter Text

A whip can kill in one of four ways.

It can break bones. The fragile bones in the neck, the vulnerable areas of the skull, or even the ribs around the lungs for an extra slow death. Quistis favors the neck bones. One snap of her wrist sends the whip out, and another pulls it back. It's a double crack that is always quick and clean. The skull is harder and usually requires one of her heavier whips. One with a significant weight on the end that can smash through bone with the force of her swing. Two or three times sometimes depending on her aim. The ribs are something she knows how to do, but has employed in battle only once. It took all of her strength and the augmentation of Ifrit to do it. It's not the most effective tactic in her arsenal but available if necessary.

It can slice flesh. Lay open veins or arteries that bleed out quickly in battle. Quistis has several whips with a variety of blades on them. Each one uniquely suited to a certain type of enemy. A razor thin blade for soldiers, sharp and thin enough to reach through the gaps in their armor. A series of serrated hooks for monsters that can catch on their thick hide and drag bloody swaths open.

A whip can also be poisoned. A thin film of fast or slow acting poison on the tip of a special blade is all that's needed, or even applied to the thin end of a regular whip if pressed for time. Then it's just one hit and she can move on quickly. One cut is all that's needed to split the skin and get the poison into the system. The hardest part of poison is remembering not to touch the poisoned bits after. To keep her hands clear of that tiny barb as she coils the whip back up in a single motion that's been instinctual since she was fourteen.

The last method is a last resort and she only uses it out of desperation; strangulation. It's awkward and almost impossible to strangle an opponent from a distance. The time it takes to do it is too long and gives them plenty of time to escape the whip. She has to get in close to do it properly. Within arms reach, which negates the practicality of having a ranged weapon, close enough to wrap the whip around their throat and pull. Close enough to put a knee in their back or chest as they thrash about. Feeling them fight her in every pull and burning strain of the muscles up her arms, along her shoulders, and down her back. Listening for that last futile gasp and shudder that means it's all over, and then another minute more to stay there just to make sure they won't start breathing on their own when she leaves.

Four ways to die, and Quistis has used each one of them in the past hour. She lets the corpse fall at her feet unwinding her weapon from the boy's neck as she quickly surveys the halls. They've turned the tide of battle finally. Galbadia Garden's forces are being pushed out of Balamb Garden as students fight students in a clash that's hard to make sense of. Only the cut and color of uniforms distinguishing who is on which side. She has a second to see that the Balamb uniforms are outnumbering Galbadia's.

The moment is over almost before she can comprehend the turn in the tide. A group of Galbadian students charge at her. Barely old enough to be cadets but still weilding their weapons with a willingness that Quistis meets with a double crack of her whip.

Four ways to kill is all she's ever needed.

Chapter Text

They held a trial, insisted that he be given every fair chance available. Seifer had laughed at them, but they didn’t give him a choice. People in high places either wanted his head on a silver platter, or they wanted him reformed and freed. The trial dragged on for two years as both sides fought over him.

It was a waste of time and money. Seifer already knew the outcome of it, and anyone that claimed to know him should have known it too. Just went to prove how few people really knew him the day he’d shocked the world by refusing the deal offered for his life.

The Lady hadn’t controlled his mind, and he wasn’t sorry for a damn thing he’d done. And no, Seifer wasn’t going to lie about it just to appease the spineless masses.

History was written by the winners, and Seifer had known at the end he would always be remembered as the villain. There was no way to get around it, he would always be that Seifer. There was no deal they could offer him that would let him be free of that label and living a life after losing the war would have been pure hell.

Not that he was looking to avoid it. Seifer was not going to let them smooth the facts over with pretty lies, and turn him into something to be pitied at best. He was damned if he was going to let them remember him as anything less than the man who’d made the whole world shake in fear.

The day they executed him he made sure to smile for all the cameras.

Chapter Text

War orphans.

Matron had called them that, and growing up Irvine had just sort of assumed everyone else was the same. When he was adopted it just never occurred to him to think otherwise. He remembers being honestly shocked when his roommate told him about his own family, because it was a basic fact of life that Irvine had taken for granted.

His roommate hadn't let him live the incident down.

Irvine tilts his hat up and watches a group of kids march through Galbadia Garden in a line. They're all young and have nothing more than a single bag with them. The new generation of war orphans is even larger than Irvine's had been. There aren't enough orphanages or willing foster parents to take them all in, so Garden has lowered their age criteria to accommodate them.

It's a move that's put many politicians and rights groups on a rampage, but none of them have any other alternative for the kids. Most of the ones he's seeing now are from a group that'd been housed in a warehouse in Deling that wasn't fit for the rats that'd been found there let alone kids. Garden was obviously a better place for them no matter what anyone might say otherwise.

Irvine tilts his hat back down and wonders how many of them think this is normal. It keeps him from wondering how many of them he is personally responsible for.

~

*

~

Chapter Text

Kiros feels like shaking. The field is littered with the remains of monsters the likes of which had sent the three of them on a rather long medical leave not too long ago. He feels like shaking but the hand that comes up to tuck one loose braid away behind his ear is perfectly steady.

It's like he's watching everything from a distance as he stretches his arms out and rolls his neck, relieving muscles that had tightened up unexpectedly. Checking his weapons he reaches- Well, inside is the only way to explain it, touching something that shimmers and feels colder than what he imagines death would feel like. It makes the warmth that spreads through his body moments later more painful even as it soothes and heals.

The Cure spell is already painful enough. Fast cures of any nature are always painful, hence why the Army preferred to allow its soldier to heal naturally. Kiros doesn't so much as gasp though as his skin is forcefully sealed shut. The pain is there, but he's distracted from it by a litany of information as his wounds close up. Regulations that have nothing to do with his Army, names he doesn't know, and lists of ingredients that he instinctively knows are dangerous when combined.

The adrenaline is ebbing, and with it Kiros feels himself more in control of his body. Before he can take over completely he turns to his friends and casts Cure on them as well. Ward grimaces uncharacteristically, but takes it without complaint. Laguna stands perfectly still and silent, not even flinching as the large gash in his side shuts quickly.

Kiros blinks at his friends, hand still extended in the gesture to cast. They look back, every bit as uncertain as himself. Kiros lets his hand lower noticing that it's finally shaking.

~

Quistis feels like sighing. The field is littered with the smashed and pulped remains of a few monsters that made Grats seem positively lethal in comparison. One hand automatically rises to tuck away a few annoyingly loose strands of hair behind her ear.

Still high on adrenaline, everything seems clear and sharply focused as she stretches her arms out and rolls her neck, relieving the kinks that always built up in battle. Checking her weapon over for damage she draws a Cure and casts it upon herself on automatic. The wounds are minor, but as long as she has a steady stock of Cures there's no reason for her to allow herself to be slowed by a few scratches that might become something worse eventually.

She feels her skin twitch and crawl as it mends leaving her with the urge to scratch herself all over. She concentrates on reciting the regulations for filling out a sick leave form, alphabetizes her class roster, and even lists the ingredients to Selphie's Molotov Special. It helps to take her mind off of the pressing urge to scratch at the still closing cuts.

The Cure helps to get rid of some of her adrenaline too, getting her off that knife edge of awareness and letting her relax a bit. She turns towards her companions as the last of the cuts fade and casts Cure on them as well. Zell grimaces, but holds still long enough for the spell to sink in and begin to repair him before going back to bouncing on his toes ready to move on. Squall stands perfectly still, not even acknowledging that the spell has been cast.

Quistis nods at her team, hand still extended. They both nod back, and Zell grins his thanks. Quistis drops her hand onto the handle of her weapon and turns to press on.

Chapter Text

Kadowaki's day begins as it always does. With a cup of strong coffee, aching joints, and the bemused wonderings of what percentage of Garden will see her today. She guesses upward of sixty-five percent, and is almost correct. The actual number is higher, but that does not surprise her, it always is.

She's only forty some odd years old, but she always feels impossibly older than her years. How can she not when, now that Cid had retired, the closest person to her own age in Garden is a twenty-five year old mechanic who'd never gotten past calling her Ma'am?

She is surrounded by children. Occasionally --mostly when a tiny and frail looking child comes to her covered in blood and bruises-- she just wants to grab the nearest, least injured one and shake some sense into them. She wants to say, "For the love of Hyne, you're a child! Go back home and play with your toys! Leave this life of war and death to the adults!"

The urge only happens along occasionally, and it never lasts longer than a single look into the eyes of whatever child had prompted the feeling to emerge. All it takes is one look to remind her that while she is surrounded by children, they aren't normal ones by any stretch of the imagination.

Garden is filled with the wayward offspring of War and Death. They were born years older than any child has a right to be. Not a single one of them has a home to go back to, and the only toys they've ever had were the ones that broke bones and sliced flesh. It's only fitting, she thinks to herself sometimes, that these children of the wars adults have made are so much more terrifying than anything the old generals could have imagined.

The knowledge stays her impulse to make them see reason long enough to cast a few cures and wrap a few bandages around the wounded who rarely flinch back in pain anymore. It does nothing to keep her from feeling absolutely ancient as the parade of injured come to her office. Some a little older, most a little younger.

Kadowaki's day ends as it always does. With a cup of strong tea, aching joints, and the vague wonderings of how many of the children she had not seen that day are still alive. She can guess, but she knows that the real number will always be lower.

Chapter Text

The enemy knows her position.

Quistis can see it in their careful movements. The stiffened posture of the pointman, the way all of them look everywhere but right at her, and the not so subtle movement as the rear of the formation breaks off to flank her.

They're terrorists with goals that change on a whim, and a deadly love of explosives. But they aren't forest men. Quistis doesn't need to look away from the main group to track the men clumsily hunting her down. Getting away from them would be ridiculously easy. She doesn't move though. Grav, the mastermind behind them all, still hasn't shown up yet.

When attacking a group a SeeD must destroy the leader first.

Branches snap and feet crunch through the accumulated mulch of the ground. She's only minutes away from being found. Forest men these terrorists are not, but she has to give them some credit for their skills in observation. The four man team sent before her had been annihilated by them after all. Their heads had also been thoughtfully sent back to Garden in a box as a wordless warning. Or maybe a challenge.

Quistis can hear breathing now, but still she doesn't move. Through her binoculars she can see another group of men arriving.

A SeeD must do everything in their power to complete the mission.

A hard barrel kisses the skin behind her ear just as she finally identifies the target. The man behind her barks, "Don't move!"

Quistis lowers the binoculars and murmurs, just loud enough for the mike attached to her throat to catch her words, "Target confirmed. From the east, with the vest."

Static crackles in her ear and she hears Irvine's slow drawl, "Got 'im."

"Hands where I can see them, or you're dead!" There's a click and a rattling clank. The safety being released and a round being chambered. The same sounds the first SeeD team had heard last.

The completion of the mission is more important than even the SeeD.

Three of those SeeD had once called her Instructor. Quistis smiles as she says, "Fire."

~

Quistis runs the water until blood stops swirling down the drain. She has to put her dirty and torn clothes right back on, but she feels better about it. Almost better enough to face the call she has to make to her superiors. The report of failure she will have to give them. How her sniper failed the mission just to save her life.

She doesn't think that she'll ever feel good enough to have to report that.

Out in the tiny room the run down inn had let them, Irvine lounges across the only bed. Hat tilted over his eyes until she closes the bathroom door. One hand lazily tips the brim up.

"Called the report in. We're on standby," Irvine doesn't apologize, and from the stubborn lines set around his eyes she knows he never will.

A SeeD never stops until the mission is complete. A SeeD never endangers a mission for personal reasons. A SeeD is expendable when the circumstances call for it. A SeeD-

Quistis plops down beside Irvine, exhaustion and a nice headache helping to silence her thoughts. She lets her head fall on his chest and whispers, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me for somethin' like that, Quisy," Irvine takes a deep, shuddering breath and buries one hand in her hair and pulls her close. "Don't ever-"

The next breath sounds like it almost might be a sob, but Irvine doesn't cry. Quistis curls up as close as she dares her face pressed against his shirt suspiciously hot, but she doesn't cry either.

A SeeD never cries.

Chapter Text

It wasn't noticeable at first. Fujin woke up and started her day as usual ignoring the lingering echoes of pain coming from her empty eye socket. She fumbled a bit in the bathroom using up more time than was usual to get a few simple tasks done. The blurriness and need to focus more was attributed to the pain medication the medics had given her. Fujin tossed the bottle away without a second thought. If they were going to hamper her like that, then she really didn't need them.

She walked right past the entry to the Quad, and had to turn back. With a headache already forming she met Seifer and Raijin ten minutes later than she'd ever been before. Neither man said a word about it and they continued on with their normal routine. A quick sweep of some of the more popular make-out areas before heading to the cafeteria.

Fujin was only just starting to think that throwing away the pain medication might have been a rash idea when the change really became noticeable. She blinked dumbly down at her food and really looked at it. There was no distance between her fork and her eggs, it looked like they were flat but she knew they weren't.

Seifer and Raijin continued to argue over something pointless as Fujin looked up to study the slowly filling room. It was barely noticeable until she knew what the problem was. Everything looked flatter. Dr. Kadowaki had told her to expect it, but the reality of it held nothing over three little words.

No depth perception.

Fujin carefully set the fork back down. The pain in her head was from the strain she was putting on her one good eye. Trying to compensate for the loss.

She closed her eye and took a deep breath before opening it again.

Years of eating cafeteria food had some use after all. Fujin picked the fork up with little effort and scooped some eggs up. Muscle memory she hadn't noticed before got her in the vicinity of the lump she was aiming for. It took more effort and concentration than usual, but eventually Fujin managed to spear some eggs and maneuver it to her mouth.

It wasn't anything that she couldn't overcome. Eventually.

Chapter Text

Seifer Almasy was held for six months by the Estharian government following his pardon. Whether or not he had been in control of his actions during the war didn't concern them at that point. What mattered was that Almasy was the only living being who knew the full extent of the atrocities committed by the sorceress and her various supporters. They wanted him to tell it all, to give them names and places.

He refused for a month before they told him he would not leave the country before giving them the information they wanted. Almasy spent the next five months silent, ignoring everything directed towards him.

On the sixth month of his detainment Balamb Garden docked at Esthar and --upon request from the President-- an Elite SeeD member was sent.

~

Quistis Trepe walked into the interrogation room with a bowl, a bag, and two cans of coffee. The bowl and cans were placed in the middle of the table and she sat down across from Almasy fiddling with the bag. It ripped and she poured the contents into the bowl.

Fresh almonds filled the bowl to the brim. Trepe ate one and opened a can of iced coffee. She didn't speak or even look at Almasy who refused to touch the bowl and the other can. Three hours passed before the bowl was empty. Trepe gathered everything back up and left. Still without a word having been said.

~

The next day Trepe came back with a bowl, two bags, two cans of coffee, and a thermos. The extra bag proved to have fresh chocolate chip cookies in it, and the thermos was filled with hot chocolate. Almassy watched wordlessly as she sat and ate it all. Five hours passed before she left.

~

When she came back the next day she added a tin of brownies and a jug of cold chocolate milk. She set them out meticulously, almost in the exact same placing as the previous days. Almasy watched her carefully pick up a square brownie which fell apart despite her care.

"You keep eating like that and you'll get fat," Seifer said finally breaking the silence.

Quistis brushed some of the crumbs off the table before pushing the tin closer to him, "Then help me eat it."

It was utterly ridiculous. He didn't know what she was trying to do but the simple words made his breath seize in his lungs. Seifer closed his eyes and pushed back from the table suddenly not wanting to see the food, but he was helpless against the smell.

Warm and familiar because- because of course Matron would want to make sure Seifer got some of his favorite treats. A pouch of freshly shelled walnuts or a few of the cookies she always baked. Some of the rich brownies he used to help her make in the kitchen, Just the two of them mixing batter in a bowl with a mug of cold chocolate milk to soothe the burns in his mouth when he inevitable ate the brownies straight from the oven and-

"Seifer," Quistis was suddenly there. Arms slipping around his back as she knelt in front of him. Blue eyes probably looking at him with that look that she'd learned from Matron. The one that's gentle and understanding, the one that begs you to tell them everything. The look he'd hated in her classroom even though he couldn't remember why it was so familiar.

Seifer kept his eyes shut, his words a bare whisper, "I want to go home."

"We want you to come home," she said just as softly.

He didn't cry or sob or breakdown. It felt like he had though. She held him tightly not letting go even when he began to talk.

Chapter Text

Mr. Deyer,

I would like to say that I gave you points for effort. However, the only effort I've seen you put forth has been in managing to enter every class and lecture I give --whether or not you actually need it-- for the sole purpose of ogling me. Yes, Cadet, it is quite clear from the distressing lack of understanding of even the most basic fundamentals that I have done my best to hammer through your lust addled mind that the only thing you've paid any attention to has been below my neck. I would suggest you sign up for one of my practical demonstrations on effective spell casting while maintaining an offense, but I think you'd enjoy that far too much.

So, I've taken the liberty of signing you up for a few lessons with Instructor Xu who has expressed a keen interest in helping you to properly focus your attentions back on your studies where they belong. I believe the term "forceful castration" was used when she made the request.

I wish you the best of luck with your new life as a eunuch.

~

"Cadet!" Quistis snapped loudly. Deyer's eyes slowly rose from chest level and blinked just as slowly. It was something she'd seen Irvine do a few times to make a group of women blush. The move had the complete opposite effect on Quistis, she had to remind herself it was against the rules to maim a student out of the Training Center.

Hyne, she hated Trepies! "Your recent scores have slipped rather dramatically, Cadet. I'm placing you in remedial course until I feel confident you can handle a more regular class load."

Deyer lit up, obviously looking forward to more one on one classes with her. Quistis resolved to make a recommendation for remedial infiltration courses as well.

Quistis allowed a bit of her ire to enter her smile. "Report to Instructor Xu's office tomorrow at 0530."

~

Cadet Nash,

I continue to be amazed and utterly flabbergasted at your continued insistence to completely deny reality. I do not know where or how you got some of the ludicrous ideas swimming around in your thick skull. I certainly never taught them to you, and a through review of your past Instructors has led me to believe that these ideas are not something you have come across in Garden at all. No, these are ideas you brought in with you and continue to cling to despite being proven wrong on a daily basis.

I'm surprised at the lengths to which you go in order to maintain your strictly misogynistic view of the world. In the past four years you've received instruction from five women, all of whom are very capable and strong SeeD members, yet you still believe women are weak and inferior to men. The cognitive dissonance of this thought must have been horrendous last week when I beat you black and blue in a failed attempt to teach you how to block a simple punch. Or when Xu stepped in and proved quite effectively that you really couldn't handle anything we could "dish out" to you. Repeatedly. I can't imagine how it felt for you later in the infirmary when Dr. Kadowaki --the only non-combatant in Garden-- was able to pin you to your bed until your injuries healed.

I must say that you made a remarkable recovery. Why, you didn't miss a beat coming out of the infirmary and declaring that Xu and I earned out positions on our backs. Pity you said it to the female branch of the Trepies. Xu thinks it's quite fortunate you were within crawling distance of the infirmary.

Logic would dictate that this meant women are not in fact weak little creatures you can plow through with your stubborn bullheadedness. However, you've proved yourself immune to logic once again with today's practice session.

Xu has expressed an interest in seeing to your continued education once you've been discharged from the good doctor's care. I believe she's calling it her Castration 101 course now. I'm sure that Cadet Deyer will have much to tell you on your new life style.

~

Nash's jaw was wired shut. A blessing that Quistis would have to thank Kadowaki for later.

"Out of concern for your continued health, it's been decided that you need remedial hand-to-hand combat training," Quistis selected the sheet of paper transferring Nash from her care and placed it on the small table next to the bed.

Nash grunted something unintelligible, but the gleam in his one open eye was obvious enough for her to understand.

"No, it won't be with Instructor Dincht. Believe it or not he is not our only expert in the field on staff," Quistis smiled. It was the same small, professional one she gave drunk politicians who called someone just below her chin pretty. "As soon as you're able, report to Instructor Xu every morning at 0530."

~

Cadet Ceril,

I would like to extend my most glee filled thanks to you for being so utterly stupid.

First, for actually thinking you could cheat on my exams and not get caught. I'm not blind or stupid. I know something is wrong when a failure of a student suddenly starts getting perfect grades.

Second, I'd like to thank you for being arrogant enough to get caught cheating. Who would have thought one of the library terminals had access and permissions to alter the grades of students? Something about admin rights. I honest paid it no attention after the fact that it logged all users and activities was brought up.

Third, I'd like to thank you for trying to wriggle your way out of the charges. Here's a little advice, next time don't try to blame an Instructor for your cheating. It's not our fault you are a conniving little weasel who spends more time finding ways around exams than studying. Honestly, if you even gave half as much attention to your studies as you give to finding loopholes you would have no problems passing any of your classes.

Ceril, I truly believe you might have made an alright SeeD if you'd just lost the laziness and ego, and I'm sorry to see your potential go to waste. This sentiment will not in any way stop me from raising a glass in celebration after we kick your whiny little butt out the door tomorrow.

~

Ceril shifted uncomfortably as a bite bug drifted perilously close to her. Quistis watched as her eyes darted back to the gates she and Xu stood just inside of. The invisible boundary that would keep her safe from any monster attack.

Xu cleared her throat loudly. Shifting in a way that made her seem exactly as dangerous as she was. "Your cheating was all academic. Your combat skills are quite fine if I recall correctly."

Ceril stiffened and turned her back on the gate. Stubbornly refusing to glance back again. Even as the monster took a definite interest and drifted closer. Xu threw an entirely too pleased grin at Quistis that she had to fight hard not to return.

~

Cadet Morridon,

I do not know what it is I have done in a past life to deserve having someone like you inflicted upon me on a daily basis. Whatever it was, I hope to hell that I thoroughly enjoyed it.

It seems to me that you think we're in direct competition for something. You challenge me on every single point I make, which is rather bizarre seeing as how I am teaching straight from the same textbooks that you try to use to refute what I'm saying. (You really should stop that it makes you seem ignorant, child.) The rumors that I've heard you trying to spread about me are rather laughable. Your constantly antagonism is starting to cross over into outright insubordination.

And this is all because of a boy? Because of Deyer?

Little girl, I don't know where you think you are but this is a military institution. You are not raging a battle against me for the love of your idiotic boy who can't even look a woman in the eyes. This is not that private little academy your mummy and pappy sent you to before, and situations like this are not something that we tolerate. I'd like nothing more than to turn you out on your spoiled little rear for your attitude and atrocious grades, but Garden requires that a Cadet be given one last chance before permanent expulsion.

Much as it galls me, you will be given a chance to prove you are fit to become a SeeD. However, I have no doubts in my mind that you will prove once more how unfit you are to this life. I'd wish you a good life, child, but I do rather hope you reap some of the embarrassment you've caused.

~

Quistis stared coolly at the girl, only Xu's presence kept her temper in check. The cadet's nose was so far up in the air Quistis could see straight through to her non-existent brain. She obviously thought she cut a dashing figure or something ridiculous like that.

It was enough to turn all her anger into suppressed laughter.

"Report to the library at 1300," Quistis finally said, no reason to draw this ridiculous encounter out any longer. "Your tutor will have everything you need for the upcoming exam."

Morridon twirled on the tip of one shiny shoe and flounced out of the room. The door slid shut behind her and Xu was the first one to crack up.

~

Seifer,

It has become clear over the past year that you have missed your true calling as a comedian. As your Instructor it is my duty to point out your strengths and help you utilize them to their fullest extent. In this spirit I have attached a flier from the 3-Eyed Monkey in Balamb to your coffee stained report. (Xu found your comments about beast husbandry and certain Galbadian politicians particularly salient.)

Considering that the topic of the paper was supposed to be on Galbadian Infantry tactics, I'm forced to put aside any amusement we might have gained and give you a zero. A low grade that you are more than capable of absorbing seeing as you appear to have precisely calculated your grades so that you have remained at a steady and solid one point above failing.

I have also included with this paper the schedule for your next extra-curricular project should your gig in Balamb not take off.

~

"Really?"

Seifer's grins came in two flavors; shit-eating and smug. Right now he was leaning more towards smug, and if he upped it any further Quistis didn't think she could be held responsible for the damage she'd do.

"Yes, I'd say that losing your paper was an unfortunate accident, but I can't really call what you turned in a paper," Quistis adjusted her glasses and thought of the rather impressive folder of "lost" papers in the Instructor's lounge that helped break up the stress of the job. "Seifer, you know a make up of some sort is required for such a low grade."

"Of course," and now the grin was slipping firmly into the shit-eating category. Quistis' fingers itched for her weapon. "What'll it be this time, my dear Instructor? De-gumming the Quad? Cleaning grout in the locker rooms? Or am I going to weed the Training Center again?"

"Nothing of the sort, Seifer," Quistis smiled and allowed herself to feel a bit triumphant when Seifer started looking a little wary. "You have an excellent grasp of math, and it just so happens that another of my student's does not. You will report to the library tomorrow to help tutor her."

"You're kidding me."

"Not at all. Because you failed this assignment, you need at least sixty points from this extracurricular activity to stay above the failing line," Quistis pushed a folder across the desk enjoying the way Seifer glared at it. "And the grade you get for this will depend on how well she does on her next exam. I'd suggest setting up a tutoring session once a day with Cadet Morridon."

Quistis only allowed herself to grin smugly after Seifer had sulked --in the most dignified manner he could-- out of the classroom.

~

Chapter Text

Quistis was in trouble.

Her client lay strewn about the room in heaps of viscera and strips of bloody flesh. Well beyond the help of any medical or magical means of saving. He'd died in the three minutes and fifteen seconds it took her to break down the door. The man responsible for the death of her client regarded her calmly from across the room.

"Oh," Quistis gasped and took one involuntary step back under that gaze.

The man glided forward, moving with an unnatural grace. Ink black eyes fixed on her. Without thinking Quistis sent her whip cracking out, the sharp steel tips cutting across his face. Cutting deep into those black eyes that peered right into her soul and closing them. He didn't even flinch. Corpse pale fingers of one hand reached up and touched the blood dripping slowly down his face. The other hand held her whip in a tight grip she couldn't tug free of.

"Exquisite," one word, said in a voice rich in darkness that sent a jolt of pure fear down her spine.

Quistis didn't move as the man wrapped the barbed tips of her whip around his hand. Pulling tight enough to anchor them in the flesh and drawing more of the strange blue blood that filled his veins. Didn't move as he stepped directly in front of her, towering over her. Didn't move as an impossibly cold hand drew a line down her cheek in blue and red blood.

"You will learn so much from us," he purred, a promise filled with darkness.

She was beyond trouble.

~

*

~

Chapter Text

Mostly, he's serious. Some might even say he's emotionless, but that's not quite it. True, as Commander of the SeeD detachment in Balamb Garden Squall can't afford to let himself get overly emotional, but to those who know him it's easy to see that Squall has attained that state without having to sacrifice his emotions. He's far too serious as a result, but that's just the way he is. The resemblance is clear in these frequent moments. It's a little painful to watch him and see the ghost of a dead woman looking back.

Very rarely he will lighten up. He might even laugh or, Hyne forbid, smile at times. It's a very rare event. Something that is only likely to be seen by Squall's odd but closely knit family, because only when he's among them does he feel safe enough to allow his emotions a little free reign. Mostly, it's Rinoa who will make him smile, and for a precious few seconds he'll actually look his own age. The resemblance isn't as clear in these moments, you can only see it if you ignore what he looks like and concentrate on his shape. The tilt of his eyes, the creases under them, and the insanely crooked tilt of his mouth. It's painful, in an entirely different way, to look at him and see your own face staring back at you.

Chapter Text

The beginning of the work week always start early for Quistis Trepe. Barring any sudden missions, her schedule for Mondays is always the same.

She is up by five, out of her room by five thirty, and in the Training Center by five forty-five. What follows is something that Selphie had once jokingly called a natural disaster of mythical proportions. The logistics personnel in charge of keeping the room filled with monsters had not found it quite as funny though. Thus, her Monday morning habit only lasts for a few woefully short hours. She makes the best of her alloted time though.

Quistis doesn't leave the monster infested area until the red haze she'd woken up to fades. Which is usually around seven, the enforced cut off time for her. She then has half an hour to shower and grab a cup --or a pot-- of coffee before meeting the students.

Burying her face in the oversized sunflower print mug Zell had gotten her for her last birthday, Quistis forces herself not to laugh. Students. Already worn from her morning exercise the thought is only bitterly amusing instead of rage inducing.

The class of ten only meets once a week for advanced tips on wielding a whip. Quistis spends the time watching the already capable cadets fight each other, only occasionally needing to step in to demonstrate a technique or make a correction. She rarely has a need to actually teach the cadets anything.

Four of the class are obviously Trepies. They spend more time watching her than their own opponent. Waiting for one of them to get hurt is usually the highlight of her day as tending the minor wounds is the most complex thing she does in the class. It doesn't happen often enough though. Despite their obvious infatuation they are passibly good with the weapon.

Two of the students would be better off finding another weapon to specialize in though. Oh, they're more than capable of wielding a whip, but Quistis can easily see from their fighting styles that the whip is not best for them. A whip is not made for the close combat they keep reaching for. It's not her place to tell them that though. All she can do is dutifully write up a recommendation to their main Instructor every week. But every week the same two students show up for he class. She wonders if they even read the notes, or if her exile from all things academic is still something laughed at among the Instructors.

She doesn't have to wonder. She knows it still is.

The other four cadets are perfect for the weapon. They have the stance, the balance, and the constitution to step back and fight from a distance. Their grasp of basic maneuvers mesh seamlessly with the more advanced steps they have been taught in a style that is unique to each student. All that is left for them is to practice and polish their skills, and that is something better left for them to do on their own in the Training Center against real monsters. There is nothing more that she can teach them.

Quistis is not one to be overly optimistic. She knows that this assignment is nothing more than a scrap being tossed her way to appease the restlessness of a high ranking soldier.

Sure, Garden changed after NORG was removed, but in some ways it's unchanged. All academic decisions are still being made by the same board as before. The same board that had stripped her license from her without allowing her a chance to argue against it.

The cadets are already warming up when she enters the designated sparring room. Quistis watches them from the door for a while before tipping her mug up to finish it off. Grimacing at the grainy and bitter dregs.

Tuesday breaks Quistis' weekly routine. Instead of being relegated to being an overpaid paper-pusher she's given the chance to take a solo mission. Like any SeeD with over a year in she jumps on it.

Not many people will pay top dollar for SeeD unless the situation really needs their caliber of expertise, and those missions never require less than a four man team. Solo missions where the problem is small enough that a single SeeD can handle them are few and far between. Mostly, the problem is taken care of in a single day and the SeeD is then free to enjoy the rest of the allotted mission time on their own.

Solo missions are basically paid vacations, and Quistis feels like she deserves one.

The specs are simple. There's an unknown monster lurking in the plains around Deling. It's attack is weak, and it preferred to run when confronted. The local university wants the monster detained for further study. Alive if possible, but dead would also be acceptable.

Simple and quick. Quistis feels no guilt in snapping this mission up before anyone else gets wind of it.

The Cherenkov is a surprisingly small gun despite it's strength, and not so surprising is the fact that it originated from Timber. In a city where everyone can claim membership to one underground faction or another the development of smaller and deadlier varieties of weaponry have been encouraged by constant Galbadian searches. This gun has been specifically designed for smaller people. Smaller grips to fit their hands, less recoil to knock them around, and thus a lot easier for them to use.

Quistis eyed the gun with distaste. Trust the higher ups to take a simple mission and make it complicated. Being a field tester of new ammunition wasn't her preferred mode of getting a mission finished quickly.

"Don't be like that, Quisy," Irvine drawled as he added a clip on holster to the table. Four magazines, the appropriate holders for said magazines, and two cartons of ammunition quickly follow. "This little lady'll treat you right if you just give her a chance."

"Is all of this really necessary?" Quistis ignored the man's rambling, waving over the pile of extra gear. She disliked guns because of how uncontrollable they were. Once the bullet left the chamber there was no altering it's course. "I have no intention of using that at all."

"Well, you're getting it anyway," Irvine gathered all the gear up with both hands and nodded towards a door. "There's no use having a weapon and not havin' the ammo for it. Besides, you never know, you just might end up using it."

"I doubt that."

"Don't got too many of the new ammo they're wantin' you to test out, but the regular stuff'll do for this," Irvine ignored her comment as they entered a small shooting range. Two targets were suspended at the far side of it. The weapon and gear were dumped onto a nearby table. "Now, let's see what your marksmanship is like, Quisy."

"Bad," Quistis grimaced as she stepped up and loaded five rounds into a magazine. The Cherenkov fit her hand perfectly as she slapped the magazine in. Flicking the safety off she took a minute to let it settle more comfortably. Relearning how to hold a gun and adjusting her feet out of the whip wielding pose she naturally fell into to get a better stance for shooting. "It's been a long time since I held one of these, Irvine."

"Just remember your breathing," Irvine reached over to reposition her thumb slightly. "Good thing about this model is you don't really have to work to keep her steady."

She brought the gun up lining the sights to the target. The lines swam a bit before she remembered to close one eye. Not having --and not wanting-- a projectile weapon was no excuse for being this unsure with a weapon. She'd have to work on that when she got back.

"You're gonna want to fire before-"

Quistis pulled the trigger, the bang drowning Irvine out. Her arm barely moved and she was still on target. She fired the other four bullets rapidly.

"-before you get tired," Irvine finished after the last echo died, and flicked a switch on the wall making the target move forward. He smiled as Quistis snatched the paper down, reaching over to help her straighten it out. "Let's see how 'bad' you really are."

One hole was in the dark center circle that represented the heart, another was in the gray area that was the neck, and the rest were in the white area that counted as misses. Irvine laughed. Quistis rolled the paper up and smacked him with it.

"Aw, c'mon!" Irvine held both hands up pleadingly. "You got one good shot. Just means you're rusty, that's why I got the ammo. A little practice and you'll be fine. Trust me."

The gun dug uncomfortably into her side as she shifted with the train. It fit under her arm awkwardly and got in the way of nearly every move she made. Quistis had done nothing but practice moving while wearing the damn thing the entire trip. Fortunately, the SeeD car was empty and she was able to do so in peace.

Deling came far too soon for her liking though. Quistis self-consciously adjusted the gun again before debarking for her mission.