[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Legacy
by scribblemoose

Chapter 2

Irvine leaned back in his chair, resisting an urge to put his feet up on the table, and watched Squall from under the brim of his hat.

He loved watching Squall in meetings, and especially when others were trying to get the better of him. So many people underestimated the young commander, even now, assuming it would be easy to take advantage of him. They did so entirely to their cost, finding themselves met with an icy facade that they had no idea how to read or control. The irony was that once you got to know him, Squall was actually fairly transparent. He wasn't by nature devious or manipulative, rather he was refreshingly straightforward and brutally honest, and extremely passionate about SeeD and his place in it.

It was getting to know him that was the hard part.

Martine glowered at Squall across the polished table, and Squall returned his gaze with an open, blank expression which Irvine could tell was driving the Head of Galbadia Garden to distraction. And the beauty of it was, Squall almost certainly had no idea what he was doing.

Almost.

"The trainees need more than just grats and T-rexes," growled Martine.

"Why?" asked Squall, calmly.

Martine sighed heavily, as if he'd been having this argument all morning. Which, in fact, he had, in a way. Every item on his long wish list for Galbadia's new training centre had been met with the same calm interrogation, and Squall had turned down almost every request: he'd agreed to a special area for sniper training, and a safe unit for junior cadets, but that was all. The rest of the items on Martine's list, including the Junction Simulator and the underwater combat facility, all had neat lines drawn through them.

"Because the world is full of monsters. All kind of monsters."

"Then why don't they go practice in the world?" asked Squall, innocently. "That's what we did, and we turned out just fine."

"Because... but... it's dangerous," said Martine, helplessly. He could see his defeat in Squall's emotionless grey gaze, and Irvine could almost taste his despair.

"Of course," said Squall. "But so's the training centre. The point is, grats and t-rexes have everything you need to learn technique. Magic, drawing, combat, corrosive bodily fluids. Everything a SeeD needs to practice. And they're easy to simulate. It would cost a fortune to produce different monsters, and why? Once technique's up to standard, let's get them out in the field. Then they're earning money, and saving the world, not hiding in the training centre using up resources."

There wasn't a shred of anger in Squall's voice, nothing but calm reason. Martine was seething with frustration. Irvine had the feeling he would have done anything to have an excuse to hit his Commander right then, or even just to shout at him. But Squall gave him nothing.

"But..." Martine sputtered.

"Yes?" said Squall, impassively.

It was all Irvine could do to keep from laughing.

Martine scratched his pencil heavily though the last item on his list, and rested his head in his hands. "You win," he muttered. "You win again, Leonhart."

Irvine threw Squall a wink, which, as he's expected, was met with a quizzical expression. Squall really had no idea what he'd done to upset Martine so badly.

"I'm sorry we can't afford everything you'd like, Martine," Squall said. "But it'll still be the best training centre in the world."

Irvine watched Martine's shoulders, hunched so tight they brushed his ears.

"It surely will," Irvine said, encouragingly. Much as Martine irritated him, he was a good man. It would be very stressful, Irvine supposed, remodelling a whole Garden.

"Thank you for your support, Kinneas," Martine said, with a trace of sarcasm.

"You're welcome, Sir," said Irvine.

"I think that's everything," said Squall. "Was there anything else you had to report?"

Martine shook his head wearily. "No, thank you. We're catching up on our schedule, slowly."

"And your fiancée?" asked Irvine.

Martine's expression instantly softened; he gave Irvine a smile. "Fine, thanks," he said. "We set a date for the wedding, did you hear?"

Only about twenty times. "Next month, wasn't it?"

"Yes, the first of July. You'll be invited, of course. We were going to make it later, but she didn't want to wait. Said it would get out of hand if we didn't make it soon, and that way I can take leave before the building starts... although I'm surprised there's so much to do. I didn't think planning a wedding would be so complicated."

"They can get that way," said Irvine. "Or so I'm told."

"Maybe. She seems a little more... ambitious about it than she was at first. But I don't mind, to be honest. An old man like me, I'm just lucky she'll have me."

Irvine smiled; however difficult Martine might be do deal with sometimes, he was a genuine, caring man at heart.

"I suppose you'll be next, Leonhart," said Martine, casting Squall a comradely grin over the table. "You've been with young Heartilly for what, two years now?"

"Next?" Squall looked distinctly startled.

"You'll be making it official soon, then. Now that'll be an event Balamb'll never forget."

Irvine had to feign a coughing fit to hide his laughter. Squall looked absolutely horrified.

Point to Martine. Definitely.

"We haven't...that is... I... um..." stammered Squall, completely lost.

"Still think you're a bit young, eh?" said Martine, graciously letting Squall off the hook. "Well, take my advice. Don't leave it too late, Leonhart. You don't want some other handsome young commander coming along and snapping her up while she's waiting for you to commit."

Squall just stared at him, wide eyed and speechless.

"Oh, damn," said Martine, with the slightest glint in his eye. "I just remembered, there was one more thing I hadn't put on the list... I was thinking of a new research area, to develop our standard and non magical techniques..."

Irvine watched as the Commander of Balamb Garden struggled to regain his composure, and failed.

Maybe Martine was getting to know Squall, just a little, after all.

* * * * * * *

Xu snuggled into the warm skin of Selphie's back with a yawn, stretching an arm around her lover's waist.

"You 'wake?"

"Hm," answered Selphie. "Just. Still sleepy."

"Me too." Xu lazily kissed Selphie's neck. "Mmm, you taste nice."

Selphie stretched away from her to reach for her watch on the bedside table. "You sleep alright?" she asked. "You were thrashing around something awful."

Xu yawned again, trying to remember. "Oh, yeah, I had a dream," she said. "Irvine was in it. Behaving like something out of a bad romance novel." Xu scrubbed her nose in the pillow, trying not to remember just how explicit the romance novel had got. She hadn't dreamed of a man in that way for a long, long time, and wasn't prepared just now to contemplate how it had made her feel.

She'd liked it.

Well, no accounting for dreams, she supposed. At least now she was awake she felt her usual self, interested only in the soft curves of Selphie's warm body next to her.

"Shit, I'm late." Suddenly Selphie was scrambling out of bed, gathering up clothes and towel and hairbrush and rushing for the shower.

"Oh," Xu complained into the empty space in her bed where Selphie had just been, disappointed. "Damn. I was thinking a lie-in, maybe breakfast in bed..."

"Sorry Hun," yelled Selphie from the bathroom. "Irvy's back from Galbadia. Said I'd meet him for early lunch." The last syllable was drowned by the loud hiss of the shower.

Xu rolled onto her back and pulled her pillow over her face.

"Stupid Irvine," she muttered into the soft cotton.

She listened to Selphie humming to herself in the shower, accompanied by the occasional clank from Balamb's plumbing. It wasn't long before the humming and the showerhiss stopped, and the plumbing got louder, and then Selphie emerged, combing her long hair over her shoulders, savagely attacking the tangles in the ends. She was wearing jeans and a baggy black t-shirt that somehow swamped her delicate frame. Xu sometimes longed for the cheerful sundresses that Selphie used to wear, bright girlish colours and daring hemlines. But Selphie insisted she'd grown out of that sort of thing, and honestly, how could she expect people to take her seriously when she wore stuff like that and besides, it was very impractical for fighting...

"Will you be back afterwards?"

Selphie gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, babes. I really need to do some training, and here's a hundred and one things to do to get the graduation ball ready.

"Oh. Okay. Can I help?"

"'Course," said Selphie, with a bright smile. "Meet me form the training centre 'bout four, okay? You can help me sort out the set timings for the bands. Whoever thought of a Battle of the Bands for a graduation ball deserves to be shot. It's a logistical nightmare."

"I think it was you, sweetheart," Xu reminded her. "Something a bit different, you said. A bit livelier than last year's fancy dress."

Selphie giggled. "You're right. I just couldn't risk Zell coming as Carbuncle again. That was toooo funny! D'you remember?"

Xu remembered all too well. The furry ears and the little bobtail on his butt, in particular. She grinned.

Selphie scraped her hair back from her face and tied it neatly with a black hair tie. She padded back to the bed, and kissed Xu softly on the forehead. "I'll see you at four," she said. "Be good 'til then, 'kay?"

"I'll try," said Xu. She was about to pull Selphie down for a kiss that was a little less chaste, but Selphie was already on her way to the door, and the outside world.

"I love you!" she yelled.

The doors swooshed closed behind Selphie before Xu could catch her answer.

* * * * * * *

"There's the train now. You'll take care of Squall, won't you?"

Irvine got to his feet, and picked up the heavier of Rinoa's bags.

"Good gods, what've you got in here, woman? You're only going for two days!"

"There's going to be meetings, and dinners, and I'll need to train still, and I don't want Daddy to think I'm poor or unstylish or anything. Anyway, it's only a few things."

"I could believe that, if the few things happened to be lead weights," said Irvine.

"You will, won't you?"

"Will what, sugar?"

"Look after Squall."

Irvine reached out, and brushed a long strand of hair away from her worried face. "Of course I will," he promised. "Don't I always?"

"Well..."

"And didn't I come back from Galbadia specially?"

A frown wrinkled her forehead; she eyed him reproachfully. "I'd have thought you'd want to come back," she said. "Balamb is still your home, you know. Even if you aren't hardly here these days, except to work."

"Of course. But... you know, I still have friends there and..."

"Yeah, but..." She might have said more, but the train was already pulling up to the platform. "Shit, Irvine, do I really have to go?"

"'Fraid so. Come on, you're a big powerful sorceress, remember? You can do this." He opened the door to the nearest carriage and pushed her gently towards it.

"But there'll be politics, and dances, and being General Caraway's only daughter and..."

"And you'll be every inch the princess, as always. Besides, you'll be back before you know it." He handed her the bag, which she immediately dropped onto the carriage floor.

"Fuck, that's heavy," she said.

"Yep. Now, off you go." Irvine stepped up to give her a hug, kissed her cheek softly. "And yes, of course I'll look after Squall."

"And make sure he doesn't forget to eat?"

"Rin, when did you last have to make sure Squall ate?"

"Well, I know, but... He works too hard. I worry about him."

"Of course you do. You love him. Now, go have a good time, buy lots of new dresses on Squall's credit card, and I'll be right here to pick you up when you're done, alright?"

She flung her arms around his neck. "You're the best, Irvine, you know that?"

"Of course, babe," he purred into her soft, dark hair. "Absolutely the best. Now, go away. I'll be back to pick you up day after tomorrow."

He jumped back down to the platform, and handed the rest of her bags up to her. She snagged the door shut, blew him a kiss through the window and insisted on waving to him as the train pulled out, as if she were going on a six month round-the-world voyage rather than a weekend trip to Deling.

Irvine waved back until he couldn't see her any more, and then he stuffed his hands in his pockets and strode off to the Junk Shop. He'd left Exeter there last time he was back, for some new modifications the proprietor had suggested; a new electronic sight and a cooler trigger mechanism. Irvine had to admit to himself that he was looking forward to being reunited with his rifle. And not just because he was curious about the new improvements; his gun had been with him for a long time, and saved his life more times than he cared to remember. He hated to be without it.

Frila's father greeted him warmly, as he always had done. Irvine was confident that the man had never found out that he had deflowered his daughter when she was still technically underage. Or that she had died for him. He fervently hoped that his ignorance would continue for many, many years to come. Preferably forever.

"Hey, Kinneas. Good to see you again."

Sybon Alfyrd had huge, broad shoulders, a neck like a bull and looked as wide as he was tall. Which, considering the fact that he easily met Irvine's six feet in height, was impressive.

Forever would be a very good idea.

"Hi. You got my baby ready for me?"

"Ah. I'm sorry about that." Sybon ruffled the short hair at the back of his neck, wincing in anticipation of Irvine's disappointment. "It's going to take another couple of days."

"Two days? But-"

"I know, I promised, but my supplier let me down and..."

Irvine fought down his annoyance, and the slight surge of panic that the idea of being without Exeter for another two days raised in him. "Oh," he said.

"I'll have it for you in two days for sure. And there'll be discount, of course."

"No need," said Irvine, forcing a smile. "Not your fault."

"That's decent of you, Kinneas," said Sybon. "Is there anything else I can get for you? I've got some more pulse ammo in, and the new plasma bullets."

"That sounds exciting. Why not? I feel extravagant. Give me fifty of each and charge them to my account."

"Sure."

Sybon busied himself with cartridge cases and ammunition. "You can tell Leonhart that I'll be getting more of the plasma bullets for the gunblades, too. He was asking me the other day. Our lass is going to bring some back from Esthar when she comes."

"Really?" Irvine ran his finger along the cool glass counter, smearing a little blob of gun oil that had spilt there.

"Yes. She's a good lass. All busy getting ready for her field exams, and still got time to think of her old man."

"Hm."

"I can't believe she's going to be a SeeD." Sybon pushed the neatly tied package of ammo over the counter to Irvine, and met his eye. He looked wistful, a little sad, even. "Her brother would have been so proud. And her mother, of course."

"Sen, wasn't it?" said Irvine, gently. "You lost him in the Battle of the Gardens."

Sybon nodded, and turned to the computer, stabbing the keys with one finger to enter the sale. "He died protecting others," he said, the words falling easily from his tongue, well-practised. "You raise your children to do the right thing," he added, quietly. "Never expecting somehow that it'll take them from you."

Irvine fought tears pricking suddenly at the back of his eyes, wondering what it would have done to this man if he'd really lost his daughter too. If she hadn't come back. If he'd had to know, that she'd died on the end of a sword because she loved someone too stupid and screwed up to deserve her.

"Anyway," Sybon carried on, more cheerfully. "What's past is past. I'm just glad that Frila made it to SeeD, and has done so well too. She's a good lass."

"Yes," said Irvine. "She is. Or... so they tell me. You know. The gunbladers. Squall. Hm."

"Right you are." Sybon tore the receipt from the 'til and handed it to Irvine with a smile. "Thanks for being so understanding. Have a good day, now."

Irvine left the Junk Shop and headed back to the car; got in and fixed his seatbelt, turned the ignition and revved the engine.

If he started out now, he could be in Galbadia by nightfall. He could be in Duck and Zef's arms by midnight. He could lose himself in lust and warm bodies, and if he missed a card game, well, Zell would forgive him. Chances are Ness wouldn't approve anyway.

Then he remembered his promise to Rinoa. To look after Squall.

He still wasn't quite sure why the Commander of Balamb Garden should need looking after, when he was all grown up, fit and healthy, and incredibly good at his job. But then, a promise was a promise.

Irvine set out for Balamb Garden, wondering when it had stopped feeling like home.

* * * * * * *

Quistis stopped the car just outside the city of Esthar, on the edge of the Great Plains, and they both got out. The sun beat down to scorch the cracked, barren earth; even with sunglasses on Frila had to shield her eyes as she scanned the landscape for monsters.

"Looks like we're clear," she reported. "For now, at least."

"Kiros tells me they haven't been close to the City for a while now," said Quistis. "Sometimes I think we might even be winning."

"Nah," said Frila, with a grin. "This was one of the prime targets for the lunar cry, after all."

"Good Gods," said Quistis wryly. "Don't tell me you've been studying your history."

"Just something Odine said. Although, I should get credits for that. Understanding Odine, I mean."

"I'm impressed," said Quistis. "Or worried. Not sure which."

Frila gave a little laugh and rolled her shoulders, swinging her arms to shake out the tension from her muscles. She was looking forward to a good workout; it had been a couple of days since she'd done more than basic exercises in Esthar's makeshift training centre, and she felt crammed full of excess energy, jumpy and restless.

She really needed to kill something. And, for the sake of diplomacy, not Odine, who was the most tempting target in Esthar. But also the most important resident, apart from Laguna himself, so on the whole, it was probably best to stick to killing monsters.

"This'll be our last session before the field exam tomorrow," said Quistis. "Anything in particular you want to go over?"

"Whatever you think I need. I was a bit worried about the fire magic, I've never really got the hang of firagas. They always come out kinda lame."

"Well, that's not so terribly important. You can always channel fire through your weapon instead, if you really need it."

"But if I use a fire Guardian..." she suppressed a shudder at the thought of junctioning a fire elemental, but Quistis probably noticed it anyway. She didn't miss much.

"That's a possibility," Quistis admitted. "But-"

"I know," said Frila with a wry grin. "I have to cope with whatever gets thrown at me, whether I like it or not."

"Yes," said Quistis. "And you're more than capable."

"Hn." Frila went to the boot of the car, and got out her gunblade, taking pleasure as always at the feel and look of the thing in her hand. It hummed faintly and glowed with magic at her touch. "So what do you think I should practise? What's my weakness?"

"I'd have to say teamwork," said Quistis. "You've done most of your training out here in near-isolation. It shouldn't be a problem, you've got a natural instinct for it, but still... You just need to keep your inner gunblader under control."

Frila grinned. "The lone spirit of the 'blade, eh?" She made light of it, but she knew what Quistis meant. She'd got used to looking after herself and Sanke with as little help - or interference - from outside as possible. She liked it that way. Things got complicated when there were other people around.

"I could get Laguna down here. He said he was free when I, um, bumped into him at breakfast."

And would that be before or after you shagged him senseless? thought Frila. But she didn't say anything. If Quistis wanted to keep her relationship with Squall's father a secret, well, that was her business, and Frila was perfectly happy to play along.

"Okay," she said. "That would be cool." And an excuse for you to spend more time with the big man, you devious old Quisty, you.

Frila started to warm up while Quistis phoned Laguna. She'd never fought alongside him before, although he sparred with her sometimes. He was good with a gunblade, even if it wasn't his first weapon, and she'd enjoyed their sessions. He was nowhere near as good as Squall, of course, and she'd noticed she'd been beating him a lot more often lately. She took a good deal of satisfaction in that; what Laguna lacked in youth and regular practise he made up for in experience and enthusiasm, and she'd learned a lot from him. About all sorts of things.

Her phone beeped; she pulled it out of the pocket of the old, battered jeans she wore, and smiled. It was the usual message from Sanke, on the hour, regular as clockwork, just to say she was alright. Apparently Odine was driving her mad with questions as usual, but she was being very good.

Somehow Frila doubted that, but she let it pass, typed a quick message back and had just pressed the send button when Quistis came back, beaming.

"That's fine." She reached into the car and drew out her whip, stirring the dust with an experimental crack. "He'll be here in about fifteen minutes. While we're waiting, why don't we go over some of those regs I gave you to memorise for me?"

Frila grimaced.

"Don't pull faces," said Quistis. "There's no point passing your field exam if you flunk the written. Which, to be honest, is a lot more likely, the way you've been going.

"Yes Ma'am," said Frila, guiltily.

"Right. First question. How old can a person be before they're too old to become a SeeD?"

"Um... twenty four?"

"Thirty. That was a toughie, Squall only raised the limit last year, so I'll let you off that one, but you should pay attention. It's the kind of thing they like to throw into the exam to take you by surprise. Here's an easier one. What's the time of curfew in Trabia Garden?"

"Nightfall?"

Quistis frowned. "Eight p.m. Nightfall in Trabia during the winter can be 2 in the afternoon, Frila. That wouldn't leave much of the day, would it?"

"Oh." She bit her lower lip, and tried to concentrate.

"In the event that you find a Guardian in the course of battle, what is the appropriate procedure to follow?"

"Draw but don't junction; proceed to the nearest Garden or other suitable facility and notify the Guardian Clearing Centre immediately."

"Excellent. Well done. Now, what is the acceptable interval between the end of a mission and the completion of the debriefing process, including the signing off of journals and reports?"

"Er... oh. Um. A week?" Guessed Frila, hopefully. "Two weeks?"

Quistis drew her lips into a thin line. "Twenty four hours, maximum, twelve hours preferred," she said.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I... but hey, I got the Guardian one right!" Frila said brightly.

Quistis' disapproving glare made it perfectly clear that she wasn't impressed.

"Sorry," murmured Frila.

"Okay," Quistis sighed. "Never mind about the regs. Let's think about some rudimentary magic and armaments. How many energy crystals do you need to make fifty cartridges of pulse ammo?"

"Um... twenty?"

"Wrong. Five. Next question. From which items can death magic be obtained?"

"Er.. hang on, I know this.. um... death stones, and dead spirits."

"And?"

Frila looked blankly at her.

"One more. Come on, girl, think."

"Er... death... um... death thingies? Amulets? Magic death amulets?"

"Oh, gods save us," Quistis muttered. "Chef knives, Frila. From a tonberry? Big pointy thing, kills you in one blow? Might have a teensy ring of death about it, don't you think?"

So does a fucking great sword, and that doesn't make death magic. "Yes, Ma'am," she said, meekly.

"Have you actually tried to learn these, Cadet?"

Frila shrugged, scrubbing at the ground with one foot. "Mostly," she said. She hated it when Quistis called her Cadet. She hated regulations, and she hated studying books.

"Frila, I don't understand you sometimes," said Quistis, exasperated. "You'll put in hours and hours of gunblade practise, practically lock yourself in the training centre for hours on end whenever you're near a Garden, but I can't get you to do half an hour of basic study. You know you can't qualify if you don't pass the written, don't you?"

Frila's cheeks burned; she stared at the dust between her feet. Of course she knew. It just never seemed important, somehow, she wasn't going to be able to protect Sanke with a field report. Besides, she hated to sit still. Sitting still led to thinking, and thinking led to remembering, and that wasn't any help. She needed to move forwards, all the time.

"Cadet Alfyrd?"

"I'm sorry, Instructor Trepe." Two can play the name game, Quisty. "I find it hard to concentrate, after training and everything. I've never been good at memorising stuff."

Quistis sighed again. Every student was a challenge, even the good ones. At least she couldn't fault Frila on her dedication, or her commitment. Especially her commitment. She'd given up everything, all the fun and privileges most trainees enjoyed, to stay close to Sanke.

And she'd proved, without a doubt for the few people who knew, that she was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for those she loved.

"I'll meet you in Laguna's library tomorrow, at 6.30am," she said. "It'll be the cram session of your life, so make sure you get plenty of rest tonight." Her expression softened; she genuinely liked Frila, as well as admiring her loyalty and heroism, and could never stay mad at her for long. "Don't worry. We'll get you through one way or another. I've not had a student of mine fail the written exam yet."

Frila gave her a grateful smile, and relaxed a little. "What, even Seifer?" Frila said. The prospect of a day's cramming didn't sound too enticing, but she felt touched and a little guilty to realise that Quistis was prepared to give up her precious Laguna time to help her.

"Even Seifer," said Quistis.

"Any news of him lately?" asked Frila, smoothly diverting the conversation before Quistis got the urge to extend the revision session into an all-nighter.

"No. I had hopes of him coming back to finish this year, but..." She leaned back against the car, crossing one long leg over the other, leather boots squeaking together. "He won't get anywhere until he sorts his attitude out. You'd think after all he's been through he'd have learned some humility, but somehow..."

"... he just gets worse." Frila had trained with Seifer a few times when she'd first moved to Esthar. Squall had thought she'd benefit from the experience of Seifer's unique gunblade style, more like fencing than anything else, cruel, precise and deadly. She hadn't been able to get the hang of it at all, though, which seemed to puff up Seifer's ego no end, and resulted in a lot of taunting and aggravation she could well have done without.

"You think he'll ever make it?" she asked. She couldn't imagine it, herself, and she had no idea why Squall and the others went to so much trouble, or made so many allowances for the bastard.

"I hope so," said Quistis. "For Squall's sake, if nothing else. Matron would-" She cut herself off, probably remembering that she shouldn't be discussing one cadet with another, even if they were both somewhat unusual.

"Tell you what, Quistis said, with another crack of her whip. "Why don't we go over that fire magic? Just in case."

"Okay," said Frila, reluctantly.

"Junction your Guardian, and lets practice a few ordinary fire spells to warm up," said Quistis with a grin.

Frila gave a half-hearted chuckle at Quistis' little joke, and calmly called Alexander into junction.

She fervently hoped that Laguna wouldn't be long.

* * * * * * *

Irvine finished the last of his fries, and set down his fork with a contented sigh. He liked Balamb fries much better than Galbadian ones. They were thicker, and not so crispy, and most people hated them that way, but he loved them. He felt full, and content, and pleased to have Selphie to himself for a while. She was usually either working or with Xu, and although he got on fine with Xu most of the time, they probably would never be more than colleagues. He always felt guarded around her, careful to watch what he said or did. It was nice to be able to relax in Selphie's company, without her girlfriend looking over her shoulder the whole time.

"So how was the mission yesterday? Bag anything useful?"

Selphie shrugged. She was stirring her salad around with her fork, showing little enthusiasm for her meal. "We got a cactus thing. Called Peyote."

"Well, clever you. Squall must be pleased. Does it do anything interesting?"

"Yeah, I guess. Poison, looked like. I didn't see Squall. Zell took the thing in to be checked out and I scooted off before Ness descended."

She wrinkled up her pretty little nose.

"And is the lack of enthusiasm here about Zell's girlfriend, the Guardian, or that bit of lettuce you've been torturing for the past ten minutes?"

"Some of each, I guess." Selphie sighed, and gave up on even toying with her lunch. She leaned back in her chair.

"What's up, Seffie?" Irvine asked, softly. "You've not been yourself at all, lately."

"Nah, I'm fine," she said, but somehow she couldn't meet his eye. "Anyway, how would you know? You're never here." She fiddled with the plastic trim on the table edge, picking a corner loose with one fingernail.

"You know how it is," said Irvine. "Places to go, missions to complete-"

"Ducks to fuck," Selphie interrupted, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Seffie! You wouldn't be jealous, now, would you?" he said, mostly teasing.

"Well, obviously," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "She's gorgeous. Much too beautiful for you, all that hair and bosom. Besides, we share a love of ice cream, you know."

Irvine grinned, struggling with an all too inspiring mental image of Duck and Selphie and a tub of Galbadian choc-chip.

"I do miss you, thought," said Selphie, the twinkle fading. "We all do."

"So make me an offer," said Irvine. "Tempt me back."

"You wish, said Selphie, smiling at last. "I guess you have to do whatever you need. How long are you home for this time?"

"Probably a week or so. I said I'd play cards with Zell and Squall tomorrow night, and I've got a mission sheet you wouldn't believe."

"Tell me about it." Selphie turned back to her lunch, actually getting a forkful almost to her lips this time. "I don't know when I'm going to get the arrangements for the party finished."

"Aha," said Irvine.

"What d'you mean, 'aha'?" Selphie's face was the picture of feigned innocence.

"I mean, aha, that's why you want me around for a while. You want me to Help."

She grinned.

"Yes please," she said. "Seeing as you offered."

Irvine groaned. "Damn, but I fell straight for that one. Tell you what. I'll help on one condition."

"What's that?"

"Eat something, Sef. You're too thin."

"Alright," she said, although she grimaced at the 'too thin' part.

And finally, she started to eat.

* * * * * * *

Quistis stepped out of the shower and stretched, luxuriating in the sensation of warm, well-worked muscles and soft, clean skin. She felt amazingly, unbelievably good.

She padded back into Laguna's bedroom, gave her hair a final scrub and folded the towel carefully in half before arranging it over the radiator to dry. She tied her robe around her middle and sat at the dressing table to appraise her features critically in the plain mirror.

Not bad, she thought. No spots, no shadows under her eyes, and the wrinkle she'd thought she spotted a week or so back had clearly just been a trick of the light. She was smiling, she realised, just a little, and it lit up her eyes.

She picked up her comb and pulled it methodically through her hair, one section at a time.

She forgot sometimes, how good it felt to live like this. To not be alone, to think of something other than work. To remember that somewhere under the teacher and the fighter and the administrator was Quistis.

And, she confessed silently to herself, she liked this Quistis. The extra training to get the cadets ready for final field exams, plus joining missions whenever she could to help Garden meet it's gruelling targets, meant that her body was in peak condition.

The sex helped, too.

She swapped comb for hairbrush, and started to dry her hair. It wouldn't take long; Laguna had a damn good hairdryer. It seemed that somewhere along the line Estharian technology had been applied to grooming products as well as space exploration and sorceress containment devices, and she thought she rather approved of that. No wonder Laguna's hair always looked so damn good.

By the time she heard the door swish open behind her, it was all dry, falling soft and shiny over her shoulders and down her back.

Laguna approached her without a word, his eyes meeting hers in reflection. He touched her hair with gentle fingers, swept it back reverently to press his lips to her neck.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. "You take my breath away."

She leaned back into the solid warmth of him, closing her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Don't be silly," she murmured.

He trailed fingertips across her shoulder and down her arm, planted kisses along her neck. He teased along the side of her body, almost touching her breast through the silk, settled at her hip, bracing her as she twisted back so he could kiss her. His lips were soft, his kisses slow and tender. She threaded her fingers through his hair, long and sleek, and relished the arousal that coursed through her body, stiffening her nipples and starting the delicious ache deep inside her.

"Want to spend hours," Laguna whispered, "hours and hours, just with you..."

She murmured agreement, rose slowly to her feet and draped her arms around his neck, kissing him, deeper this time. She could feel him responding to her, not just the growing ridge of flesh that dug into her belly, but the tension building in his body, the way it he started to move with her, the slight tremble to the gentle fingers that untied her robe and slid inside to caress her skin.

"I've cleared my diary," he whispered. "I have nothing until after lunch tomorrow. Just for you."

She froze. Damn.

"What's wrong?" He pulled back to look at her, still stroking down her side, lingering at the dip of her waist.

"Tomorrow. I..." She could taste his disappointment, even before she told him. "I have a cram session with Frila at 6.30."

There it was, a trace of hurt in the vivid emerald of his eyes.

"6.30 in the--"

"--morning. Oh, Laguna, I'm sorry, it's just she'll fail the written exam otherwise. It's not her fault, she finds it hard to study and-"

"No, that's okay," he said, but his voice sounded tight and he stopped touching her, stepped back and tripped to half-fall back onto the bed with a curse.

"It's not that I wanted to," she said, anxiously. "I want to be with you. It's just that-"

"-work's more important."

"No." She tugged her robe across her front and held it in place with tense, folded arms. "Frila's important. Not more important. But important."

"Okay," he sighed. He lay on the bed, gazing sadly up at the ceiling. "But you need to take care of yourself. You work much too hard."

There was a voice in the back of her mind telling her she should go over to him, curl up beside him and allow herself to be loved and cherished. But another part of her bristled at his concern, and that was the part that spoke out loud.

"Of course I work too hard," she said. "We all do. It's how things get done. I love my job, Laguna, I waited a fuck of a long time for it and-"

"Oh, Quisty, I didn't mean..." he propped himself up on his elbows to look at her. "Come here."

She moved stiffly towards him, her previous good humour evaporated in a sudden onslaught of irritable guilt.

"I'm sorry," he said, as she knelt on the edge of the bed. He reached out a hand to cup her jaw, brushed his thumb along her lower lip. "I'm jealous, is all. I see you so rarely, and I want to have you all to myself."

"What're you wasting time for, then?" She managed a smile.

He grinned back, easy and infectious, swift forgiveness. Laguna never stayed mad for long.

And she knew she shouldn't, either. Besides, he was right. She did work too hard.

"It's about time you got out of these clothes," she said, with a tap to his belt buckle.

His grin grew broader. "Help me?" he said.

He was irresistible. A hopeless, reckless little boy wrapped up in the guise of a strong, respectable, gorgeous man. Irresistible.

"Please, Quisty?" he whined, eyes teasing.

She couldn't help but laugh, and swiftly attacked his clothing. She made short work of unbuttoning and unzipping and unbuckling, sliding cotton and denim easily over firm, lightly-tanned limbs, tickling him here and there, leaving a trail of kisses that made him gasp.

She loved to make him gasp.

"There." She finally tugged his underwear over his feet, and tossed them over her shoulder. "All naked."

She crawled back up the bed on all fours, stuck out her tongue and dragged it up his thigh.

"Oh gods," he moaned.

She licked around the outline of his hipbone.

"Oh, Quistis..."

And up the length of his cock, to take the head between her firm, moist lips.

"Oh, fuck!"

She looked at him, taking in the expression of pure joy and panic in his eyes before she released his cock from her mouth.

He whimpered.

"I could do more of that," she suggested, "or I could do-" she gracefully swung a leg over to straddle his thighs, "-something else."

He gazed helplessly at her. "Anything," he said, fervently. "Absolutely anything you want is fine. Absolutely. Anything."

She raised herself up on her knees and moved up his body, grasped his erection firmly by the root.

"Oh yes," said Laguna. "Oh, please, yes."

She sank down on him in one smooth glide, wiggling comfortably against his pubic bone when she reached the bottom.

She arched her back and sighed, shrugging her shoulders once to send the robe flowing down her arms, to land in a puddle over his knees. He reached up to touch her breasts, tenderly, lovingly, and pushed his hips up to bury himself as deeply inside her as he could. Laguna's cock felt thick and hard and filled her perfectly; she rode it smoothly, writhing lowly on him, every thrust flowing up her spine. She raised her arms above her head, scooping her hair up for a moment before releasing it to tumble over her shoulders again.

She closed her eyes to feel him better, focusing on the growing sensations in her belly and thighs and cunt; she squeezed him to make him moan, to push his self control to the absolute limit.

Eventually she sensed an urgency in the snap of his hips to meet her that warned her his resistance was wearing thin. She threw herself forwards, catching her weight on hands planted either side of his head. She looked down at him and smiled.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed.

She shook her head, tossing most of her hair back over her shoulders. "You too," she said, grinding down harder on him now. He was close, she could tell, but somehow he managed to hold on, even when she came, clenching tight around him; it was only after her shuddering pleasure had started to ease that he yelled out and slammed up into her body, pulling down on her hips and shoving one hard, spurting thrust after another into her until he finally fell back, exhausted.

She collapsed on top of him with a grunt, her thighs trembling now from exercise that somehow fighting and workouts couldn't quite prepare for. After a moment he slid his arms around her and rolled them both over onto their sides, slipping quietly out of her body in the process, his softening cock wet and sticky against her belly. She squirmed as close to him as she could get, with a contented little sigh.

"Thank you," he whispered.

But she was already asleep.

* * *

Frila slept, one arm hugging her text book close to her chest, and dreamed.

She was sitting on the beach at Balamb, the surf hurrying across the sand to tickle her toes.

"You are troubled, Shield."

"No, not really."

"You can't lie to me."

"I'm sad. That's all."

She leaned back against a rustle of blue scales.

"Why sad, my child?"

"I miss you."

One paper-thin wing wrapped around her, and she turned into Oceanus' body, breathing the sea-salt tang of him, feeling his warmth.

"I might fail," she said. "I might fail the exam, and not become a SeeD. I need to be a SeeD, to protect Sanke."

"No. You will protect my daughter with your courage and strength. Always."

"But I miss you."

She rubbed one tear-damp cheek against his body, the scales surprisingly smooth to touch.

"I miss Sen. I miss you."

"You miss Sniper."

"I miss you, and Sen."

"I will protect you. I will keep my promise, and you will keep yours. The road winds three times round the tower before you reach the sea."

"What?"

Then Oceanus was gone, and the beach was gone, and she was sitting on a bed in Balamb Garden, a large, familiar bed, and there was a warm body behind her, strong arms wrapping around her, kissing her neck, licking her ear. He nuzzled into her hair, whispered that he wanted her, gently pushed her forwards onto her hands and knees. She bit her lip as he entered her, not from pain, but deep, deep desire, form having a need she'd carried for years finally met. He moved easily inside her, long, deep thrusts, fingers clutching white-knuckled at her hips.

God, she'd wanted him forever.

She wanted this so much, it felt so good, she'd missed it, this closeness, this intimacy, she wanted to feel it again, to be loved and wanted and fucked, to writhe and moan without shame or caution.

"That's it. Move with it. Don't fight it, flow with it, that's it..."

He folded himself over her back, and came deep inside her, and she came with him, sucking his fingers into her mouth, whimpering his name.

"Squall..."

* * * * * * *