FicWad

Interlude


It was both familiar and strange, Jenova in his cells. Ultimeca infected his thoughts, dreams, all of his mind. Jenova simply settled on his body, a dark cloak, sentient but separate.


I could go deeper, if you want, if you let me, my child.


No, that didn’t sound good, not at all. He’d had enough of creatures sliming around in his head, thank you very much.


I won’t hurt you. I can only make you stronger. Don’t you recognize your Mother?


His mother was and had always been Edea, blood ties or not, and look where that brought him. And it took three of those stupid SeeDs to take him down, unjunctioned. Strength was just a means to an end; without goals, what did he need it now? As long as he was strong enough to knock Chickenwuss and take on Puberty Boy, there really wasn’t much else.


Sephiroth…


‘you’ve got the wrong guy, lady’ he thought. Thinking in this place, resisting her, it hurt. ‘just seifer almasy, sorceress lapdog, seed washout.’ Hyne, he didn’t want to do this again, he couldn’t deal with another round of mindfuck.


No? I’m offering a place of glory, lead your Brothers to Reunion, and I’ll love you most of all. Sephiroth is in you, child, you can do it, and the Planet will be ours, none of those meddling Cetra to block our path.


He’d heard this before, ‘a place of glory, the planet will be ours, yeah right.’ He tried to wake up, clawing at the blackness that was constricting onto him tightly, ‘listen lady, i just want to see my friends fish off balamb dock kick the wuss around my dream my romantic dream - i don’t want to be any SEPHIROTH!”

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Chapter 2


Hyne, all Quistis wanted was a bath.


They’d reached the town in generally good spirits the next day. Irvine eyes had immediately latched on to a woman in an upper story window. The first floor of the building turned out to be a bar, and so Quistis went to asses the rest of the town, knowing where to find Irvine in the future.


Rinoa had been waved over to a man selling a type of lotion, just the thing to keep your skin smooth and soft. She snatched one of the credit cards that accessed the team’s Balamb account, cooing over her poor windblown, chapped lips and hands, last Quistis had seen.


She’d checked out the prices at the Inn first. For a tourist trap, she was surprised to find that there wasn’t any hotel as there was in Deling City. Housing must be very cheap in this area, considering the number of people scattered around the beach. The Inn rates were reasonable, she supposed, and from the monsters they’d have enough pseudo-Gil to last around a week. Quistis didn’t want to rent a room (which had three beds, conveniently enough) without having an idea on future plans.


Beating low-level monsters simply ate up time, and they didn’t even drop any cards.


The hot sun beat down, but she took it in with patience. Diablos wouldn’t let her burn. Humans only feel changes in temperature, not the temperature itself. By raising her own internal heat, the outside heat became a little more tolerable. She scanned the beach area, looking for a bouncing girl in yellow, a tattoo on browning skin, or, if she was lucky, Squall without a shirt.


Rinoa latched on her side, and Quistis heaved a sigh, the hot wet air warming her lungs uncomfortably. She really needed to get over that stupid, hopeless crush.


“Quisty?” She really and truly liked Rinoa, the little sister or daughter she never played dress-up with. As long as you kept all the really important stuff away from her, like resistance movements and Heads of State, she did fine, looked cute. Why did everyone trust her with Squall?


“Quisty, the man says our credit doesn’t work. He’s got this great stuff, here, try it,” Rinoa spread the stuff on her hands and rubbed it on Quistis’ face, reaching up without hesitation. “It softens things right up. Only 150Gil.”


The smaller girl smiled up at her, and Quistis wished again that they’d been able to keep her out of the fighting. She counted out the red-fold Gil without any fuss. Rinoa ran off with a skip in her step.


Who would guess that they’d just been in the ultimate battle to fend off the planet’s utter annihilation? Quistis flopped into a beach chair, leaned back and closed her eyes.


They’d been fighting a sorceress from the future bent on compressing all of existence, which left many possibilities as to where and when they currently were. Could this be an alternate time? The city and terrain were unfamiliar, but the technology seemed to be about on par. Granted, she hadn’t seen any Gardens in the air, but there was a buggy parked outside of town. Also, there had been plenty of ships- submarines even- coming in and out of port regularly.


If this was the future, there would be Gardens. They should ask the locals to direct them, and even if the Garden in question didn’t recognize them, it would be a place to stay. The future would have Triple-Triad too, and then she could just hustle if they needed money.


If this was in the past, then they should start worrying about Adel. Quistis tried to play thorough the possible ramifications of tampering with the past. If you changed too much, was it pre-destined to happen? What if you did something that prevented your own birth, thus preventing your own time-travel? But if there weren’t consequences to your actions, what was Ultimeca’s point in going back in time in the first place? If they weren’t too far back in time, perhaps they could meet up with Laguna, and when Ellone did the---


“Hey missy,” A man with garish red hair and freckles on his chest loomed over her. “You look kinda stuffy in turtleneck and trou. Tell me your name, baby, and I’ll let you change in my villa, yo.”


And he winked at her. This was just turning out to be an awful day. Still, maybe the boy (alright, he was probably at least the same age, most likely a few years older, but being an instructor made her feel Old) would know something about Garden, and if he really did have a villa, certainly they could ‘commandeer’ it for a brief time. He could be telling the truth; for all it was improperly worn, the suit he was barely wearing looked to be of good quality. So she smiled and fluttered eyelashes, murmuring “Quistis Trepe.”


The boy didn’t seem taken aback, even though she infused her voice with just the right tones of soft and sternness that had scored her legions of fans, men and women alike. Even Xu was rumored to have a crush on her, and she was at almost as cold-hearted as Leonheart. Not that Quistis was thinking about that, concentrating as she was on the calloused hand in hers. The kid’s blue eyes were too green, with not nearly enough grey, but the scars on his face were oddly appealing. She let him pull her up, and chuckled a bit when her boots made her taller than him. The boy took it in stride though, a teasing grin while he looped arms with her, making their way back though the sandy streets.


“Call me Reno. Most fortunate to make your most classy acquaintance.” Quistis smiled for the first time in a long time. Reno was confident, but it wasn’t Irvine’s overblown flair. SeeDs cut an intimidating path, and the youngest instructor in Garden wasn’t a title to be taken lightly either. Quistis felt a hand wander down her side. She didn’t plan on doing anything with him, it was rather unfair, but she was stranded in Hyne-knows-when, and no matter how much she liked 'experimenting' with red-heads, she had a team to lead, at least until they found Squall.


Reno talked about the town, Costa del Sol, pointing out the sights and she cooed along like a good tourist girl. The boy had a good knowledge of sea-food places and bars, and Quistis made careful note of the weapons shops he indicated as they passed.


They passed the lotion-seller’s stand without a sign of Rinoa, and Quistis glanced about before Reno gently pulled her chin back to him with a smile. “Soft,” he murmured, brushing a finger across her cheek, and she must’ve blushed, because he looked amused, “Cute. Didn’t peg a girl like you to use Soft for skin ointment.”


Quistis frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”


Reno stepped out of her personal space but kept eye contact. “You know, a whip but no gloves, yo. You check out the alleyways, stay alert on your back, keep your right hand free and close to your weapon. That’s your dominant hand, isn’t it, although I bet you can use both. So, why is a practical girl like you using Soft on your face and going off alone with dangerous strangers?”


Maybe she’d taken this kid too lightly. “You’ve been making sure to keep your left hand free too, I notice,” He smirked, snagged the rod from his belt, tossing it from one hand to another, ending up in his left and emitting a low hum. She continued, “Besides, you’re the one who’s picking up dangerous strangers.”


“You know I’m good with my hands. Don’t you even know what you’re messin’ wit darling? I’m a Turk, yo.”


“That means nothing to me.”


The smiles disappeared on both of them, replaced with a slow, ages old predatory stalk. Quistis had the advantage, snapping the whip from a distance and sidestepping Reno’s opening rush. They kept their distance. They weren’t enemies, not really, but Quistis hadn’t fought anything that wasn’t horribly beneath her since the Sorceress, when she was way over her head. Fighting with Reno had a curious rhythm to it, and instead of the weary tiredness that had been consuming her, this familiar weirdness brought her back to her senses.


A nearby crash unnerved neither of them, but Quistis recognized a few of the screeches and proclamations that followed, and inwardly cringed. Irvine, you dolt… She glanced in her peripheral, and she saw her teammates and two others pushing out of a bar, Irvine’s arms flapping as a petite blonde poked him in the chest. Quistis turned her full attention back to Reno, but he was watching the group too. She and Reno met eyes, and he shrugged as they both put away their weapons and headed towards the commotion.


A big guy held back the blonde woman now, both of them wore black suits, and Quistis surmised that it was a uniform of sorts. Rinoa was conversing with the larger man, whose responses were limited due to the woman’s struggling, and the need to sneer at Irvine. It would probably look better if the man wasn’t wearing dark shades. Irvine was, for the most part, making placating gestures and doing his best to look harmless. Quistis thought he was doing an admirable job at it, helped by the fact that his prized jacket was torn at the shoulder, and he kept hiking it back up. There was a story there, and she would bet next month’s pay packet that it involved alcohol and a pickup line.


Rinoa scampered up to her.


“What’s going on?” Quistis barked, and immediately felt guilty when Rinoa jumped back from her. “I’m sorry, I mean, Irvine got drunk and hit on her, right? And that’s her boyfriend or something, and everything got blown out of proportions. I knew I shouldn’t have let—“


“Oh no!” Rinoa cringed when she realized she’d interrupted, but continued, “I mean, he wasn’t really drunk, but Elena- that’s her name, Elena- she’s drunk, and Rude’s not her boyfriend, he’s still on bed rest, but they’re both Turks, so they stick up for each other, but he’s not a bad guy, and Elena’s just taking her aggression out on Irvy, so he really doesn’t want to fight, but you know how Elena gets when she’s all emotional and—“


This time, the cut-off came from Reno, holding up a hand, and Quistis heard a whispered ‘Reno…’ from Rinoa. The redhead walked over to other three, coming in between the two Turks and Irvine.


“Elena.” It’s a stern warning, and the woman’s head jerked up to glare at him, tears in her eyes. Rude was still holding her arms, but the wild thrashing stopped. Quistis noted that Irvine was slinking his way toward her and Rinoa, and she spared him a glare before passing her attention back to these Turks.


“Elena,” He said again, softer this time, “stop messing up my vacations, yo. I had a cute girl on my arm a little while ago.” He rapped her head with the heel of his hand, tilting her head, and Rude stepped back while Elena launched herself into Reno’s arms, crying.


“Che’, grow up already, rookie. Don’t act so weak, have some faith in the Boss. We’ve all been though shit, and came out all right, remember? Come on,” He nodded over his shoulder to her group too, and she recognized him back, “Let’s all head back to the villa, get outta this heat, yo.”


Elena pried herself from his arms easily, leading the way, and Rinoa trotted back up to keep pace with Rude. Irvine was following, still fussing with his jacked, but Reno fell into step with Quistis, brining up the rear.


“So, that’s your team.”


“Yeah. I,” she scoffed, “I lack leadership qualities. I let personal relationships color my thinking. I don't act professionally about situations.”


She paused, but he didn’t say anything, so she continued, “I’m working on it.”


He rolled his eyes, using his whole body. “Then stop. Being a pro is overrated. That shit is for fools, yo. But teams,” His eyes looked distant, “Teams are tough, but it’s worth it. You gotta care for them, get personal, know who they like and who they’re crushing on, because that shit does matter. Rude goes easy on girls, Elena gets sloppy when she’s mad. But they’re my friends and my partners and I trust them at my back any day of the week.”


Quistis bit her lip, and opened her mouth to say reply, but they reached the villa, and while Rude fumbled with the keys, Irvine threw an arm over her shoulder.


“See Instructor? I scored us a place to stay.” He laughed and plunked his hat on her head before heading inside. Quistis opened her mouth to argue, but Reno placed a hand on the crook of her arm, shaking his head, and she thought better of it.


“Just let it go, grow up already, jeeze.” He winked again, scars crinkling with the movement, and pulled her inside. “Besides, we’ve got this great Jacuzzi that’s big enough for two, and Elena never lets me wash her back, yo.”

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“I won’t allow Jenova to come back,” Cloud says, another knot in this string of unsettling events. “There won’t be another Sephiroth.”


“Sephiroth?”


Squall's been confused for most of the conversation, especially after Ultimeca's ranting about Kompression. Cloud has been helpful, yes, but now he's going off about Sorceresses from outer space. Although technically, Adel was from outer space during the second Lunar Cry, but she was Estarian from the beginning, wasn’t she?


Shiva protect us, this guy’s eyes are glowing.


What do I do? He thought, Zell’s ready to fight. Should I fight? I still don’t know where in the world we are, and these are the only people we’ve seen, but they don’t seem normal one bit! We don’t know any of his weaknesses or anything, running into a fight wouldn’t be the best option, but he’s outnumbered, it wouldn’t be beneficial to him either.


“Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jenova, Sephiroth, any of it! Who are you people?!”


Selphie’s ready to fight too, which is stupid because she’s terrible in this small room, she should stick to magic here. That Moomba looks ready to go at it too. Still, they’re outnumbered, but maybe they’re so strong that they’re confident they can win, even two to three? Do they know about us? I didn’t feel a scan, but they could’ve hacked into Garden’s files. He said he didn’t know of Garden, but that’s impossible; he must be lying. If he’s lying about something so basic, he’s probably lying about other things. And even if he isn’t, we can find someone else, and they’ll help us. I… we’re not alone.


Seifer, hang in there. We’ll find Rinoa and the others, and get you home, back where you belong, where we all belong.


From the sidelines, a croaked, “Sephiroth” It sounds too weak to be Seifer.


He almost misses the first strike, bringing up the gunblade only by instinct. Cloud barrels into him, and the smaller man heaves his large broadsword, the immense weight of it bearing down on Squall. He can’t push back- barely holding his own- but Selphie pitches in from the side, smacking Cloud square on the head with her nunchaku.


It knocks him off balance, and to compensate he slashes at her. In the tiny area, she isn’t able to bounce back enough to evade the blow, and the blond scores a critical hit on the girl. Squall rushes Cloud to distract him from Selphie, crouched in pain, as she concentrates on rolling a full-cure.


From the corner of his vision, he sees the Moomba and Zell exchanging swipes. Suddenly, the animal pounces, claws bared. Zell uses its momentum to toss it into a throw, the beast crashing through the window. Squall catches Cloud off guard with the a close up trigger, both of them catching their breaths, and Squall takes advantage of the moment to signal towards Zell, and then to Seifer. Zell gets the message, tossing the older man over his shoulder as he chases his opponent out the window.


Now that Seifer is out of harm’s way in the enclosed space, they could really do some damage. He and Cloud clash swords again, Squall relying on his speed to get him out of the way of the strikes. Cloud is wearing armor, which slows him down, but Squall can’t see his blows doing any damage to the man unless he times the trigger perfectly.


The reassuring wash of a Full-Cure stutters his tempo, but the refreshing feeling lets him rush Cloud anew. He absently motions to Selphie, but she is already in the corner, nunchaku pressed tight together, reading his intentions by instinct honed from countless battles.


Squall tries his level best to keep Cloud apart from Selphie, but the field is just too small and as momentum pushes him off balance, Cloud slashes a powerful blow in her direction. But it’s too late, Selphie doesn’t dodge, and the sword passes clean though. Back on his feet, Squall takes advantage of Cloud’s surprise to get in a critical hit, and that face of open astonishment is the last thing he sees before everything fades away, and Squall foregoes a boost for a moment of rest.


Cloud hasn’t seen a summoning before. He hasn’t ever heard of Garden or Sorceresses or Knights. But he is a skilled fighter, one of the best Squall’s ever encountered, and a threat, especially with one of their own incapacitated. Squall followed orders, but he also knew to follow his heart. This guy didn’t understand the situation any more than Squall did. He didn’t have orders to kill this man, and his heart didn’t want to.


I wish Rinoa were here.


He comes back from the Summoning, squinting around in hope to see the last remains of his adversary. But Cloud stands tall, not only alive, but his eyes blazing with even more unholy light, seeming to transfer that energy to his sword. This time, Squall’s taken aback at the turn of events, and Cloud takes the upper hand, charging at him in a rush.


The broadsword tares hard at his chest, and Squall is sent flying high into the air. Although Bahamut absorbed most of the blast, he can see Cloud jumping to intercept him in mid-air, still burning bright. He closes his eyes in a final silent supplication to his GFs, but the blows never come. Squall hits the ground, flat on his back.


Getting his wind back, he grimaces up at his savior.


"You always did get the best fights," says Seifer from his guarded position. Zell tosses him a potion without looking away from their enemies, although the boy looks like he could use it himself, jugging by the scratches on his face, red seeping in streaks along his tattoo. Squall pulls himself up, and can see Cloud doing the same in the distance, an armband torn, presumably by Hyperion.


With Seifer apparently no worse for his unexpected coma and taking point, the two parties align themselves again in a stand-off.


"I won't let Sephiroth return!" shouts Cloud, once he was steady on his feet. This seems to rally him and the Moomba, and Squall isn't sure that, even with Seifer, they could withstand another assault. Even Ultimeca had been wary of the GF’s power, taking them out before they could attack; he's never seen anyone, man or beast, shake off the Brothers' attack so easily.


Seifer, for all having been deliriously unconscious previously, acts his usual overconfident self, dropping his defensive stance and openly rolling his eyes, as if the people trying to kill them were one of Zell's bad jokes.


He actually starts to walk toward them, and Squall is about to intervene, but then Seifer declares, “From what I can tell, this Sephiroth is a big mama's boy. I don't get why you're so afraid of such a wuss.”


Squall cringes.


This, of course, pisses off Cloud even more, but oddly enough it also annoys Zell, who jumps in front of the Seifer yelling, “If you knew about all this shit, why didn't you say so sooner?”


Then Selphie chimes in with an all important “Yeah!” and then Cloud puts his sword away to join in the argument with the newly enlightened Seifer, and just as quickly as it started, Seifer settles the whole fight away, without any tact or diplomacy or even rudimentary politeness, and Squall feels like he is once again in Garden, once again outside looking in on the crowd.


It lasts until Seifer turns back to call, “Squall, come over and help us plan to rescue the other Princess,” when Zell leaps to his defense and Selphie starts to explain his 'Ice Princess' nickname. It reminds him that for all Garden is a para-magical mercenary training camp, it also is a family.


Don't worry, Rinoa. Wherever you're waiting, we're coming.