Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Protecting the Lion ❯ The Hunt Begins ( Chapter 24 )

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Hunt Begins

 

Squall wasted no time. His first course of action was to enlist the help of his closest friends. While there were many capable and able bodies within Balamb Garden, he had yet to personally assess their skills or grow to trust them.

 

Within the familiar conference room with the long glossy table and comfortable leather chairs, Squall waited. The blond knight was seated to his right, glaring at him with a certain gleam in jade eyes that suggested curses were also being sent his way. He couldn't help but smile subtly at the affect he'd had on the older boy. Usually the victim of the bullying boy's words and actions, it was a rare instance to find the boisterous knight refusing to speak as a means of pouting.

 

Briefly wondering if he had gone too far, Squall concluded Seifer's transgression had deserved far more than an unattended hard on. Musing for a moment, he recalled the confused expression on the ex-knight's face. Raising a hand, he hid his involuntary smirk.

 

Seifer shot daggers at the amused princess.

 

Rolling his eyes, Squall decided to make peace before his perceptive friends noticed anything. There was little doubt that suspicions would arise if he or Seifer behaved strangely. Irvine already suspected him of the worst and was entirely on the mark. Screwing his rival was a troublesome enough turn of events, and he didn't look forward to making matters more complicated by informing his friends.

 

Regarding the roguish knight's structured profile, Squall was about to speak when the door opened.

 

Quistis rushed in, looking rather concerned.

 

“What is it?” Squall asked, praying there hadn't been anymore new developments, such as the rise of another sorceress or a declaration of war by Dollet.

 

Quistis walked briskly across the room towards the rivaling pair. The restrictive skirt she wore hampered her long strides, but she managed with practiced ease as each step brought her closer.

 

Standing to meet his second in command, Squall didn't know what to expect. His heart raced and his stomach tied in knots as he prepared for the worst. What if Esthar had sent the missile on purpose? Dollet would declare war, tying the attack and the assassination together, and he would be bound by treaty to support Esthar.

 

With the ruffling of a long black trench coat, Seifer stood tall and imposing behind the commander. Hardly treating the head instructor as a threat, he stood at the ready nonetheless.

 

Glasses set atop her head, the legs disappearing into strawberry blonde hair, Quistis' weary crystal blue eyes gazed in scrutiny. Not her usual radiant self, she looked far older than nineteen. Exhausted from her short time acting in the commander's stead, she felt dead on her feet. Her demanding schedule had not even allowed her to visit Squall in the infirmary. Able to assess the resilient boy's health for the first time, she searched grey-blue eyes for some indication of pain. As difficult to read as ever, she managed to conclude that while Squall was a bit paler than usual and still seemed rather sleep deprived, there was a soft glow of returning health.

 

Relieved, Quistis reached out and warmly cupped her commander's cheek. “I was worried about you,” she informed. “Dr. Kadowaki wouldn't tell me a thing.”

 

Sighing in exasperation, Squall felt the knots in his stomach unwind a bit. Short of reprimanding his trusted friend, knowing Quistis hadn't meant to worry him, he gave a small and fleeting smile. “Patient confidentiality,” he said softly.

 

Huffing, Quistis commented, “I know, I know.” Moving her hand to feel the boy's forehead, she took an assessing temperature. “You feel a bit warm. Are you feeling alright?”

 

Before Squall could answer, he found himself pulled backwards abruptly. Colliding with a soft thud against a hard chest, his feet were the last part of him to move. The tall knight, who was supposedly giving him the silent treatment, now held him tightly with an arm angled over his torso.

 

“He's fine,” Seifer bit out tersely.

 

For a moment, Quistis simply stared in surprise. An intuitive feeling told her that the hired bodyguard was being more possessive than protective, which was simply preposterous. Unable to shake the notion, certain that green eyes were warring her away, she simply shrugged and dismissed it.

 

Wrenching free of the tight one-armed grip, Squall was a little riled to discover the difficulty he had in doing so. If prying free of a single arm were so hard, then each previous time he had struggled free of the man had not been a result of his own power. He was disconcerted to realize he had been underestimating his rival's strength. Unable to openly rebuke the ex-knight without seeming suspiciously sensitive, he sat down.

 

Feeling curious gazes upon him, Squall pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to ignore it. Waving a hand, he dissuaded any further discussion on matters unrelated to Dollet.

 

As Quistis sat down, the door opened once again.

 

“Squall!” Selphie cried, skipping forward to the back of the leather chair in which her leader sat. Reaching over the cushioned seat, she wrapped her arms around the pale man. Seeing the fighter conscious for the first time since the previous day, she clung gingerly. “You feel a bit warm,” she commented while letting go and walking around the table.

 

“So he's been told,” Seifer said.

 

“Better too warm than a block of ice,” Selphie chirped merrily.

 

Reluctant to discuss business when only a fraction of the expected attendees were present, Squall decided he would rather reiterate himself later than talk about the long night and even longer morning he had gone through. “What are the details on Fenrir's death?” he questioned with an authoritative undertone that implied everyone was on the clock.

 

Quistis studied the commander before answering, “Two gunshot wounds to the head and chest. Irvine reviewed the photos for me. He estimates the distance to be within fifteen feet, but said he needed some time to review the rest of the photos.” Whether or not they came to any sound conclusions, Dollet would have its own investigation and they would be hearing from the ballistics department for confirmation.

 

Nodding in acceptance, Squall was fine with waiting for the gunman to arrive. “Any suspects?”

 

Quistis' expression grew somber. “There haven't been any statements given to the public, but the news is already speculating the involvement of Esthar.”

 

“As well they should,” Squall concluded. It would be foolish not to suspect some connection with the dead governor and the country that launched a missile within hours of the assassination.

 

“But Laguna didn't do anything,” Selphie defended.

 

“I'm not blaming him for anything. I have my doubts, but I don't think the missile was sent with the president's knowledge,” Squall assured the flustered girl.

 

Settling back in her seat, Selphie smiled. “That's what Laguna said.”

 

Grey-blue eyes looked at the copper haired pilot expectantly. When the petit young woman made no further comments, he shifted in slight annoyance before asking, “What else did President Loire say?”

 

“Oh,” Selphie intoned, jostling in her seat. “Dr. Odine was the only one on call at the missile base. They found him, along with all the guards knocked out. The doctor had the access key on him, so whoever launched the missile used that.”

 

“Has a formal statement been issued?” Squall asked. The faster they made it clear that Esthar was not attacking anyone, the greater the chance of everything being resolved smoothly.

 

“No,” answered a voice near the doorway. Zell strode in with an unusually solemn look on his face. “We each tried to reason with Laguna, but he insisted that coming here and checking up on you was more important.”

 

Squall prayed to Shiva for strength. How had Laguna managed to run a country for nearly eighteen years without driving it into the ground? He suspected Laguna was unaware of the impact the public eye could have, which the man would soon find out now that Esthar was no longer some invisible secret. Taking a steadying breath, he instructed Quistis, “Get on the phone with him right now. The last place we need him is in Balamb.” What message would it send if Balamb Garden played host to Esthar's leader?

 

“We tried to stop him,” Quistis replied, unsure whether she could convince the determined ex-soldier from arriving.

 

Sighing, Squall turned to Selphie. “Get me a direct link from here.”

 

Seifer leaned back in his chair, observing the commander. He had never witnessed the boy in action, giving orders so naturally and using that sharp mind to think quickly. It was obvious why many called Leonhart a prodigy leader. After several moments of impressed observation, he realized he was still supposed to be angry with the sexy minx who had turned him on and then turned him away. Revenge was in order.

 

Squall kept his focus on Quistis. “Were there any witnesses? Who found the body?”

 

“No witnesses,” Quistis informed. “The security guards were found dead and the cameras disabled. It was obviously a professional hitman. A janitor found the guards and the police found Fenrir after being called in.”

 

“Or hitmen,” Selphie suggested, leaning nearly flat along the table's surface as she tinkered with a cord of banded wires coming directly out of the tabletop. “How many guards can a single person take out on their own?”

 

“Seven, not including our dearly departed,” drawled a smooth voice near the door. Irvine walked in holding a manila folder in one hand while tipping his hat in salute with the other. Taking a seat next to the blond boxer, he seemed entirely at ease. Setting the folder in the center of the table he slid it towards the commander. “The murder weapon was a semi automatic handgun, but I can't tell what make or model without a bullet. The shot to the chest was a direct hit to the heart, roughly ten feet away. The shot to the head was point blank. I'd say it would have been perfect aim even if you multiplied the distance by a hundred. I can only speculate, but it feels like there was no hesitancy. This was quite cold blooded.” In a fair fight he'd shoot down any enemy, but not some old man who had no defense. He wasn't a sharpshooter on a regular basis, just when evil sorceresses needed killing.

 

“The guards were all killed in the same manner,” Quistis informed before Squall could open the folder.

 

Tapping the top of the folder with the tips of his fingers, Squall thought for a moment. “Reaper's Angel,” he finally said, almost to himself. Looking up through uncombed and choppy chocolate colored bangs, he scanned the three SeeDs seated across from him. Neither Zell or Selphie seemed affected by his conclusion, but Irvine stared pointedly at him. Violet eyes searched his for a moment before the gunman sat back and gave a subtle nod.

 

There was a knock on the conference room door. Several heads swiveled toward the source of the disturbance, and then to Squall. The group wondered who else had been summoned.

 

“Come in,” Squall called out.

 

Raijin's large frame filled the doorway. Blocked from view until able to step out from behind the quarterstaff user's shadow, Fujin and Rui followed closely.

 

Before Squall could explain why he had included three supposed outsiders, the happy pilot finished setting up the link.

 

“All set!” Selphie exclaimed.

 

Squall reached across and took the handheld transmitter from the technologically savvy girl. “Go ahead and send a signal.”

 

“Already did,” Selphie chirped before leaving her seat to greet Rui.

 

While waiting for a response on his father's end, Squall watched with secretive amusement as Selphie swung Rui around in a tight embrace. The desperate look on the raven-haired boy's face was quite funny, even to him. Refocusing his attention, the image of a dark skinned man with braided hair filled the small screen of the transmitter. “Ambassador Seagill,” he greeted.

 

With features almost as delicate as the effeminate commander, Kiros tucked a few thin braids behind his ear before setting the portable communicator on a stand. “Commander Leonhart,” he greeted in return, offering a curt nod.

 

“Squall?” an alarmed voice sounded in the background.

 

Squall watched as the video feed scrambled a bit and the view shifted. It would seem the communicator had fallen.

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Squall watched as a clumsy Laguna grappled for the device and appeared to be falling forward after leaping over the front seat of some transporter ship that he couldn't recognize.

 

“Squall? Squall?” Laguna called, hand hitting the communicator. “Kiros,” the president whined, “I think I broke it.”

 

“Laguna,” the dark skinned man reprimanded, grabbing the device, “Next time don't jump into the front seat and grab it.” After a moment Kiros passed the transmitter back, but not before grumbling to the commander, “Next time just call on a phone, that's about all your dad can handle.”

 

“Are you okay?” The concerned face of Laguna came into view again. Squall opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by the flustered president. “You look pale. Why aren't you resting? I'll be there in half an hour.”

 

Biting his lip to keep silent, Squall fought the urge to lecture the Estharian President. “No,” he managed to interject before the man requested his temperature be taken. Tone harsher than he intended, he added, “You can't come here.”

 

“Listen to your son,” Kiros sounded from somewhere out of view.

 

Laguna turned his head to regard his friend, acting as though the commander couldn't hear every word spoken. “He's hurt. Of course I'm going to see him.”

 

“Laguna,” Squall growled, his patience waning. “You can't come here.”

 

Soft hazel green eyes regarded the commander pleadingly. “Why not?” he questioned quietly, eyes glossing as though seconds from welling with tears.

 

Flexing his fist, Squall scrunched his brows and prayed for the patience to deal with his overeager father. It wasn't that the president was particularly trying on his patience, but that he was not in the best of moods to be dealing with such a personal conflict. “Do you know that Governor Fenrir was assassinated?”

 

“Yes,” Laguna said dismissively. “Do you know that you should be in bed?” he returned. Shifting about, he lost his precarious balance between front and back seats and fell forward with a grunt.

 

Seifer leaned over to watch the small monitor. Blinking at the clumsy spectacle, he leaned closer to the brunet and whispered, “You share his genes.”

 

Glaring dangerously out of the corner of his eye, Squall squeezed his fist even tighter.

 

Seifer grinned, relishing the sadistically satisfying feeling of angering the reticent ice prince. Bullying even the smallest reactions out of the boy would never grow old. Tilting his head a bit, barely escaping the view of the small crowd around them, he nipped at the seething kitten's ear. “Just think how our kids are gonna turn out,” he joked with quick lick.

 

“Seifer,” Squall hissed, only a moment away from tackling the blond and taking their little jibe session to the next level. Nearly jumping at the feel of a heated tongue, his willpower was tested. Retaliation would only draw unwanted attention.

 

Leaning back, Seifer chuckled and let the brunet deal with Daddy-dearest. Briefly, he wondered how Squall would react if he addressed President Loire as `Dad'. The commander would surely kill him. Smirking, he decided it would be quite amusing to try in the near future.

 

“Kiros,” Squall called. “We both know why he shouldn't come here, so please stop him. I don't want to ban you two from entering.”

 

“I've tried, but he's stubborn.” The president's advisor and long time friend swam back into view as Laguna handed the transmitter over with great reluctance. “He won't stop short of seeing you in person.”

 

“Then go to Dollet. I'll meet you there,” Squall instructed. Gritting his teeth, he used an underhanded tactic on the affection-starved father. “Is that alright with you, Dad?” The intimate term was like sandpaper on his tongue and the moment he said it, he regretted it. With an awkward moment of silence on the other end and within the conference room, he vowed never to use the word again.

 

Kiros' dark eyes stared at the commander for a moment before another face pushed its way over. Green eyes stared with glistening adoration. “Okay!” Laguna agreed happily.

 

Short of completely overstepping his authority, Squall further instructed, “No formal entrance. If you can, don't let anyone know who you are. Go to a bar called The Harold.” Unable to handle a teary goodbye, he disconnected the link.

 

Silence settled in the room as seven pairs of eyes stared at the commander.

 

Clearing his throat self-consciously, Squall was reluctant to say anything pertaining to his father.

 

“AWKWARD,” Fujin said from several seats down.

 

Scoffing, Seifer crossed his arms and brooded again. “Way to give the puppy hope. Now he'll be planning a three month vacation with just the two of you shacked up in Winhill for some father-son bonding.”

 

Ignoring the obvious personal matter, Squall kept his focus entirely professional. “Quistis, I'll ask you to continue taking care of everything here.”

 

Nodding solemnly, Quistis agreed. She wasn't looking forward to the heavy workload, but if Squall could do it for over six months, then she could manage a few more days at the least.

 

“Zell, Fujin, Raijin,” Squall directed, regarding the three attentive persons on the other side of the table. “Help Quistis out here. Fujin, if you could keep public access under control. Zell and Raijin, I know you have classes to teach today, so I won't ask you to leave now, but I would like you two to get out to Esthar as soon as you can and check out the missile base for yourselves.”

 

Jumping from his seat, Zell boxed the air. “No problem, just leave it to us!”

 

“AFFIRMATIVE,” Fujin complied, earning a disapproving glare from the blond knight.

 

Raijin grinned confidently, first to Fujin and then to the pretty-boy commander. “Don't worry about a thing. We got it covered, ya know?”

 

“Since when do you take orders from the princess?” Seifer asked, a little miffed that his best friends had more than one loyalty.

 

Rui, who had watched the entire display with avid interest, commented, “Since you became a pervert.” His eyes quickly widened as he realized belatedly that he shouldn't have spoken. Cursing his unruly tongue and terrible habit of speaking his mind, he took refuge near the happy-go-lucky girl.

 

Sensing that no one grasped the unfamiliar boy's meaning, Squall was both grateful and amused. Indifferent to the comment, he simply explained, “This is Rui Valdez. He's a new cadet and will accompany us to Dollet.”

 

“No,” Seifer rejected firmly, sharp green eyes still causing the small preteen to cower near the messenger girl.

 

“That is all,” Squall said dismissively. “Thank you all,” he added, expression softening with obvious appreciation.

 

Giving salute, Raijin, Fujin, and Zell promptly left to carry out their orders.

 

“The thief is not coming,” Seifer reaffirmed, his fist hitting the tabletop.

 

“I'm coming,” Rui countered, elated at the idea of tagging along.

 

“Selphie, please ready Ragnarok,” Squall instructed, seeming to ignore the ex-knight's objections.

 

Standing, Selphie gave a rather animated salute. “Aye, aye cap'n!” she cheered, excited to take her ship out for some fun.

 

Emotionally drained, Squall was not looking forward to his meeting with Laguna. Sighing, he glanced to the sharp shooting cowboy. “Irvine, I'd like you to come to Dollet as well. We'll leave in ten minutes. When you're ready, meet in the hanger.”

 

“I'm ready now, darlin',” Irvine drawled, gazing suspiciously at the knight beside his leader.

 

Nodding, Squall requested, “Would you board ahead of me and make sure the ammunitions' lock is still active on Ragnarok. I don't need Selphie blowing anything up.” Rubbing tired eyes, he suppressed a yawn.

 

“You got it,” Irvine agreed. With a wink and relaxed salute, he departed.

 

Suddenly feeling very defenseless, Rui stared at the glaring knight. While he could hope Commander Leonhart would protect him, moving closer to the commander would consequently bring him closer to the pernicious blond. “I think I'll follow the guy with the hat,” he said shakily, bolting for the door.

 

Left alone with his former rival, Squall felt the atmosphere tense. He could feel the intense gaze of disapproving jade-green eyes and knew the older boy had quite a few verbal blows to exchange. “Don't argue with me on this,” he whispered, not wanting to deal with Seifer's foul temper at that moment. “If Reaper is involved, we'll need Rui. That kid knows Dollet better than any of us, and he's likely to have a few inside connections.”

 

“I'll tolerate the thief if you forget about the Fenrir incident,” Seifer offered in compromise.

 

“Done,” Squall murmured. His quick acceptance betrayed his lack of strength for arguing.

 

Seeing the slight sag in the brunet's shoulders, Seifer felt his anger whither away. Leaning over, he kissed the pale beauty. “Come here,” he directed, breaking away and gesturing for the smaller man to sit in his lap. When stormy blue eyes gazed at him reluctantly, he assured, “I don't bite, Leonhart.”

 

Standing up, Squall allowed the blond to wrap strong arms around his waist and pull him close. Straddling muscular thighs, he let the chuckling knight pull him in for another kiss.

 

 

TBC…