FFVIII || How Not to Date Blondes, Chapter Eight

[first-seventhe.livejournal.com]

Title: How Not To Date Blondes
Chapter Eight: In Which Brunettes Definitely Have Less Fun

Note for ff_press: I'm pretty sure these chapters have already been listed in the newsletter, so if you feel like skipping them, go ahead <3

Authors: first_seventhe and rosencrantz
Fandom: FFVIII
Characters/Pairings included: Quistis, Zell, Seifer, Cast (eventual Quistis/Zell)
Rating: M / R (Profanity, eventual mature situations)


Summary: Quistis is looking for another promotion. Zell is looking for some action with that cute library girl. And Seifer? He’s just looking for trouble.

Read it at fanfiction.net here.



Chapter 8: In Which Brunettes Definitely Have Less Fun

Squall eyed the phone nervously. This was the fourth call in the last fifteen minutes, and he'd just gotten into the office twenty minutes ago. If his voice-mail button started blinking any faster, it would probably catch on fire. It was not a good omen for the rest of his day.

The phone stopped ringing, and the sudden silence that filled his office was a little alarming. Tentatively, Squall reached out one finger and pushed the button.

"Commander Leonhart? This is Mayor Daggett. We've had another, ah, incident, and -"

Squall jammed his index finger onto the button and skipped to the next message.

"Commander Leonhart, it's the Mayor again. Look, they've got one of your SeeD vans. Are you sure that Garden isn't -"

The finger jabbed fiercely at the button again, producing a short-lived squeal before the next message came through.

"Commander Leonhart, Mayor Daggett here. Apparently they've got one of the Balamb citizens tied to the, uh, van, and they're -"

Squall's finger melted into a fist, which rammed itself into the voice-mail button with surprising force.

"Leonhart. Where in the world is Balamb Garden? We need some cadets in here, now!"

The fist missed the answering machine by a few inches and slammed into the desk, scattering pens and a few trolls haphazardly across the ground. He glared at their chubby little bellies as they tumbled over each other and spilled onto the floor, their inane plastic grins mocking him. The ugly yellow-haired one labeled "Seifer" rolled to a stop at the foot of his chair. It looked different from the others; this was the one Zell had added to Rinoa's collection, purposefully buying one of the cheap imitation troll varieties out of spite. It was oddly appropriate, considering that its head was disproportionately larger to its body in a way that was definitely much more freakish than cute. And it wasn't as if the little toys weren't creepy enough in their original form; this miscreant fake Seifer troll managed to make the cutesy plastic grin molded onto its face appear almost sinister. Gritting his teeth, Squall picked up the toy and began to whack it against the desk. The satisfying thwack! its head made each time it connected with the abused wooden surface was the primary reason that he didn't hear his freckled secretary approaching until she politely cleared her throat.

"Sir," Sasha said cautiously.

Squall's hand paused mid-descent, the mangled-but-still-grinning Seifer troll in his grasp. He coughed once and abruptly folded his hands together in the semblance of professionalism. The tell-tale tuft of wispy yellow hair peeking out from between his thumbs rather ruined the effect, but his secretary wasn't about to point that out to him.

"I have a fax for you from Balamb, sir. It's from the Mayor's office, Priority Alpha," she told him nervously, carefully scooting the large manila envelope over the desk towards him.
Squall eyed the folder impassively, his lips tightening almost imperceptibly. He wasn't moving, but the tuft of yellow between his hands was vibrating suspiciously. Sasha could almost imagine the panicked, muffled squeaks of the toy in the Commander's grasp. Finally, Squall's fingers slowly unclenched and released the hapless toy to reach for the folder. The rustle of paper was all that was heard as he drew the photos out of the envelope and studied them quietly. Then, carefully, he lowered the packet, the muscles in his jaw jumping slightly. A corner of a blurry photo could be seen from underneath the cover memo, which was composed of angry capitalized letters and a few too many exclamation points. Squall's hands began inching towards the Seifer doll once more as he smiled blandly at his uneasy secretary.

"Was there anything else?"

Sasha cleared her throat once more. "Umm, yes, sir," she said warily. "Your nine o'clock appointment, sir. SeeD Kinneas is here to see you." Actually, technically speaking there was no official appointment, just one smooth-talking cowboy waiting outside the office doors. His impromptu request for a meeting with the Commander, however, was looking like less and less of a bright idea with each passing twitch on Squall's face. Well, Sasha thought to herself. Better an A-ranked SeeD than me. "I'll show him right in," she offered generously, beating a hasty retreat.

"Squall!" Irvine's friendly drawl filled the office as he sauntered in past the retreating secretary. "How're you doin', buddy? You..." he trailed off as he noticed Squall's dark stare. "... don't look so good," he finished as his hand faltered mid-wave. Crap, Irvine thought to himself. Maybe he found out already.

"Irvine," Squall replied dully, his fingers unconsciously pinching the neck of the troll doll as he glared. "What do you want?"

Too late to back out now, Irvine thought to himself, taking a fortifying breath. "Well, see, it's about Seifer -"

The head of the doll in Squall's grasp flew off with an audible POP!

"... maybe now's not a good time," Irvine finished, dipping his hat briefly and doing a quick about-face.

"Stop," Squall said, and because Irvine didn't want to find out if Squall could perform a Rough Divide with a mangled troll body instead of his gunblade, Irvine did. "What about Seifer?"

Irvine felt the sweat bead on the back of his neck. There was no retreating now, however - at least not if he wanted to remain in Selphie's good graces. Well... Squall did seem to be particularly upset at Seifer at the moment; then again, Selphie would be more upset with him if she found out he was lying about Seifer's "surprise birthday party." And Selphie, unlike Squall, had not only an intimate knowledge of explosives but also the keys to his quarters. Nope, no backing out now, Irvine thought grimly to himself.

"See, Selphie and I had this little idea..." Well, maybe no backing out, but no going in without backup, either. Irvine sat down, trying to give his brain a chance to pull together an excuse. Squall cut him off before he could continue.

"You mean a little party," he said bluntly. It was in all likelihood true. Selphie never approached Squall with an 'idea' unless it was about throwing a party of one sort or the other. It was a big part of the reason she got along so famously with Rinoa, and also why Squall had standing orders to redirect Selphie to Quistis' office first whenever she visited the Command Center. In his current mood, he was considering extending that blanket order to include Irvine, now, too. The cowboy was obviously whipped by his girlfriend, Squall thought to himself with an internal smirk, feeling amused for the first time that morning.

Irvine balked. "Well, yeah, but -"

"... a party for Seifer?" Squall suddenly put the pieces together and frowned at the picture they were trying to form. In his head, he tried again. His eyebrow lifted slightly. "Why?"

Irvine rubbed the back of his neck uneasily and began to talk quickly. "Well, it's just that Selphie's got her heart set on this, see, and she already started plannin' out how to set up the Quad, and well, you know how she gets when she doesn't get her way, and I just thought that maybe you'd -"

"Enough," Squall cut him off, lifting a hand and massaging his temples. Between the latest attack of the Balamb Bandits, Irvine's nervous monologue, and the fact that Rinoa had been giving him the cold shoulder for no reason he could discern for the past few days, his patience and renowned aplomb were threatening to buckle spectacularly. "I really don't want to know what you and Selphie have in store for Seifer. But before you two can do anything to him, we have to apprehend him first." His brow furrowed as one of the mysteries fell into place. Selphie, parties, and Rinoa being upset... "This... party. Whatever Selphie is planning. Is that the reason Rinoa's been... upset lately?"

"Well, uh, yeah, about that -" Irvine fumbled.

Squall mentally rifled through his options quickly. He hated parties. On the other hand, Rinoa enjoyed parties almost as much as she detested Seifer. And Selphie loved parties just as much as she loved explosives. It all made sense, in a twisted sort of way. Though he would have never guessed that innocent little Selphie and his own sweet-tempered - well, she had been sweet-tempered until about two days ago - Rinoa were quite so bloodthirsty. If throwing a victory party to commemorate bringing a renowned war criminal like Seifer to justice was all it would take to get him back into Rinoa's good graces, who was he to stand in the way? "You've got your permission for this... 'victory celebration' ... on one condition."

Irvine's hand fell away from his neck in surprise. He did manage to catch his jaw before it also dropped. "Condition?" he asked suspiciously.

Squall held out the envelope with the angry memo towards the cowboy. "I want you to bring Seifer in."

Irvine managed to not instinctively reach for the envelope, although his hands gave a spasmic twitch towards it. Once he touched that envelope, there would be no way out of this. Thus he had to keep his fingers as far away from it as possible. "Oh, no way, buddy," Irvine said, shaking his head. He was already deep enough as it was - he didn't need some ridiculous interference with Seifer to bury himself. He sat on his hands in what he hoped was a subtle gesture.

Squall didn't move. The envelope didn't move.

"Look," Irvine began slowly. "I know I'm not supposed to know, but everybody's puttin' two and two together. He's the one behind the Balamb Bandits, isn't he. Quistis and Zell were the ones who went after Seifer the first time, right?" C'mon, Kinneas, he told himself frantically. You're supposed to be the smooth-talker here!

The envelope remained motionless; a small tic had appeared in the Commander's forehead and was pulsating at Irvine rapidly.

"Okay," Irvine drawled, "so they screwed up." He paused. The names Quistis and Zell had provided his brain with a plan. Alright, it wasn't necessarily the best plan here, but trapping himself into throwing a 'birthday' party for Almasy - when that creep's actual birthday was, the cowboy had no clue and frankly didn't care - hadn't been the Plan to End All Plans itself. Taking a deep breath, Irvine threw himself into it, figuring that if everything else in his life went to hell, Zell Dincht would at least owe him favors for the rest of its potentially shortened span.

"But aren't you forgettin' something here, Squall? Somethin' more important than Seifer?" Irvine continued to speak in what was perhaps the world's most hurried slow drawl, not enjoying how Squall's shoulders tensed at the mere mention of his nemesis' name.

"Quistis and Zell, man. They're not only a pair of Balamb Garden's most important public figures -" and here Irvine pulled out his trump - "They're also your friends. How are they ever goin' to learn to work together if they aren't forced to?" He put on his most relaxed face, in an attempt to keep the vein in Squall's head from exploding. "I mean, Quistis and Zell are two of your most highly-ranked SeeDs, and if they can't work together, that's a serious problem."

"I. Know. That." It sounded like Squall was grinding Magic Stones with his teeth. "I've discovered that." For extra emphasis, he shook the folder at Irvine.

"Oh, so you're lettin' 'em get off easy?" Inwardly, Irvine was patting himself on the back for this plan - mostly because the mental act was distracting him from the impending doom of Squall's rage. "Look, man. You know as well as I do that Quistis'll never admit she messed up. Fact is, Zell won't either. They're both too stubborn to fix this one on their own, and it's just gonna go nowhere, y'know?"

Squall said nothing. Irvine took this to mean the Commander was actually considering his idea. "At the same time, think about how much you'll hurt Quistis' pride if you reassign the mission. And Zell - Balamb's his hometown, man. You'll hurt both their feelings and accomplish nothing."

The sweet-talking actually - appeared to be working? The vein in Squall's head had calmed down slightly, and Irvine's cautious eyes definitely saw the extended envelope twitch slightly.

"Look," Irvine said, keeping his voice smooth and suave. "Give 'em this new mission. Give 'em orders that they have to learn to work together. It'll be the best thing for everybody."

Squall, for his part, was tired. It was oh-nine-hundred and he was exhausted. He'd only been conscious for three hours himself and he was already ready to throw this desk out the window and leave all this crap behind. For a second he had a daydream about cavorting in a field with Angelo and some dancing Moombas. Clearly the stress was affecting his mind. He had better things to worry about than parties and Bandits - didn't he? If Irvine Kinneas wanted to make a decision for him, then - oh, hell with it, Squall decided. He was probably right about Quistis and Zell, anyway - Irvine knew them better than he did.

"Acceptable," he said, finally.

"Sign here," Irvine said, with the beam of a victorious man. Kinneas charm wins again! "It's for the party."

Almost absently, Squall scrawled his name across the extended funding request, not even blinking at the sections entitled Water Gun War Kit, Castle-O-Balloons, and Fireworks Extravaganza (x3). "Tell my secretary to send SeeDs Trepe and Dincht up to my office."

Irvine made a quick exit, wanting to get out of there before the words Cake Buffet caught up with Squall's distracted mind. Smirking only slightly, he closed the door behind him into Squall's office, and turned to the secretary, a charming grin on his face and -

"Hey," Selphie said, her face darkening into a pout. "I thought you'd gotten up early to work out."

Irvine froze, albeit after noticing Rinoa's knowing smirk and the red color spreading across the secretary's cheeks. "Well, I was," he said lamely, wondering when he would ever be able to stop lying, "but then I remembered I had some things to take care of for the party."

Rinoa's eyes narrowed, and she deftly nabbed the sheet out of Irvine's unwary hands. Selphie, on the other hand, squealed in excitement and launched herself towards Irvine.

"This..." Rinoa sounded more confused than anything. "Squall signed this?"

"Gimmie that!" Selphie spun off of Irvine and threw her arms around Rinoa, reading over her shoulder. "Cake Buffet?" she squawked. "You got Squall to sign off on the Cake Buffet? I love you!"

Rinoa's brow was increasingly furrowed. "He never signs off on this much money without warning," she said, almost to herself. "Why didn't he tell me he was planning this?"

"Well, Rinoa, hun..." Irvine felt vaguely guilty, even thought that particular feeling had mostly been buried by the feeling of being-off-the-hook. Maybe he should just confess the whole scheme. Or at least part of it. Squall had just saved his ass - didn't he owe the Commander a little payback?

"Don't honey me!" Rinoa snapped suddenly. Shoving the paper at Selphie, she turned on her heel and stomped out of Squall's office altogether.

Irvine watched her go, the feeling of guilt increasing until Selphie clamped her arms around him again, babbling something in his ear about amplifiers and fireworks and lasers. The feeling of his girlfriend's tight hug as she jiggled excitedly against him made him realize something very important: namely, that Rinoa was someone else's problem.

.x.x.x.

"Squall?" Quistis knocked firmly on the door to Squall's office. Her stomach wasn't feeling very well, although admittedly some of the queasy feeling was still due to her magic-induced hangover. That, or the hangover relief medicine Dr. Kadowaki had forced her to drink. She still wasn't entirely certain what was in the viscous, faintly glowing green concoction and she wasn't particularly inclined to find out why the good doctor, of all people, even knew of it. The rest of it could be attributed to nerves: had Squall found out that she and Zell had been in Balamb? Would he think she and Zell were dating? Worse: was he going to suspend her license again?

"Come in." Squall's voice was calm; but then again, Squall's voice was usually deceptively calm right before he lived up to his namesake.

Quistis opened the door tentatively. Squall's office was impeccable, as always. He seemed to have been doing a little cleaning and organizing. Quistis spotted a small tuft of brightly-colored hair poking out of the waste-basket, buried under a huge stack of papers. She swallowed.

"Have a seat." Squall hadn't even looked at her; his eyes were fixed on a manila envelope on his desk. Quistis saw the corner of a couple full-size photos sticking out of it. She sighed inwardly. Somebody from the Balamb tabloids must have sent the photos of her and Zell at Felicia's to Squall. Surprisingly, she wasn't too concerned about the photos themselves (although she sincerely hoped that all shots of Zell carrying her allergy-prone body were sufficiently blurry) - if Squall wanted to think something about her and Zell, well, then, that was that, wasn't it? She was mostly concerned about her license: or more importantly, the lack thereof.

Quistis sat down slowly, wondering whether there was any way for her to get out of this. She could try telling Squall that it was Zell with some other blonde woman - Squall doesn't know what I look like dressed up, anyway! she thought rather cattily. But that would get Zell in trouble; and while a month ago she probably would've at least considered it, she felt strangely loath to pin anything on Zell now.

It was probably just her conscience flaring up, Quistis decided. Zell had possibly saved her life - saved her from a horribly ignominious death by choking. Death by Hyne's Hot Sauce. Damn those little peppers, anyway. She felt beholden to Zell because of that, obviously. It wasn't that she wanted to... do something nice for him. Or, she did, but it was because he'd done something nice for her.

Why was she thinking about Zell anyway? Quistis coughed to cover her moment of distraction, and snapped her eyes up to Squall. Not speaking, Squall handed her the manila folder. Resigned, Quistis opened it up - and paused, surprised and strangely shocked.

The photos were grainy, but clear enough. The first one was of a SeeD van, decked out in toilet paper and a string of electric jalapeno lights with - were those hot dogs? Quistis flipped to the next one. There was a boy, standing in the middle of a fountain - oh, sweet Eden, that's our SeeD fountain, Quistis realized. He was standing in the rubble of the spot where Squall's likeness had once stood wearing nothing but - yes, those were hot dogs. Thankfully this time there were... buns... in strategic areas. Quistis almost laughed until she noticed the boy's awkward stance. His legs were strangely grey, as if he'd been hit with a delayed release Break spell. His face looked rather anguished - and rather young.

Disturbed, Quistis flipped to the next photo - and choked. A house had been wrapped in toilet paper and other various substances until it resembled nothing more than a gigantic hot dog bun; the door had somehow been formed into the plastic end of a giant wiener, and something bright orange had been sloshed over the entire thing. It reminded her of Hyne's Hot Sauce, and she shivered involuntarily. She did a double-take as she noticed its surroundings - wasn't that Zell's house? Mentally she began calculating the damages Garden would incur trying to keep the martial artist confined once he got wind of Seifer's latest gag.

"It's the Balamb Bandits again," Squall said, his voice so perfectly flat that even Quistis could tell how angry he was. "We've sent someone down to Soft the boy - he'll be alright, although he'll probably never throw pennies in our fountain again."

Quistis felt almost delirious and bit her tongue to refrain from making a wisecrack. Instead she replied, "They seem to be escalating their pranks, sir."

"Yes." Squall folded his hands in front of him. He probably should've paid more attention when Irvine was explaining why this was such a good idea. "I've assigned you and Zell to this mission again in the hopes that the two of you will learn to work out your differences. This isn't a request, Quistis. This is an order."

He waited, watching as Quistis' eyes glazed over slightly. To anyone familiar with Instructor Trepe, this meant she was thinking. Squall knew the next step contained frantic protesting, stubborn refusal, and probably a few vague but snarky insults where Zell was concerned. For the first time in his life he was prepared to play the I'm your Commander card to win an argument. Squall just really, really wanted this entire thing to be over. He watched Quistis expectantly.

Quistis, on the other hand, wasn't actually considering arguing against Squall's annoyingly didactic order; her brain had breezed right past the part about working with Zell again. In reality, she was privately elated by the opportunity being presented to sink her claws into Seifer, and having Zell along for the ride would make their revenge that much more satisfying in the end. Her mind was already turning, trying to formulate a plan that would finally help them catch the miscreant, preferably with as much "unnecessary roughness" as possible.

Seifer would be prepared for them to come after him. He'd have set a trap. To outsmart a trap, sometimes you needed bait.

And suddenly, in Quistis' mind, The Plan clicked into place. "Accepted, sir," she said calmly. "I'd like to request a backup cadet."

Squall blinked. It wasn't often that Quistis caught him off-guard: she was undeniably predictable. He'd expected some sort of argument - some sort of statement containing no less than thirty-seven excellent reasons why she and Zell should never work together again and at least two hidden innuendos about his hairstyle. "..." he said dumbly, surprise reverting his vocabulary back into its pre-Sorceress eloquence. "Why?" he finally managed to ask, wondering what was up her sleeve.

"Zell and I have already shown that we have problems getting our strategies to mesh," Quistis replied, still unruffled. "In case this happens again, I'd like to have a backup who can take care of the situation before anything... detrimental happens." She paused, resting one finger lightly on her lips in thought. "Someone whose specialty isn't necessarily combat, but rather - fast thinking. An academic, if you will." She smiled at him. It was a nice enough smile, but to Squall, who worked with Quistis on a daily basis, it looked more like the evil grin of a Coeurl.

Squall couldn't necessarily fault her logic, although a small part of him was still gaping in awe at a Quistis who had not only agreed with an order, but had suggested a backup for herself in case of failure. "Who do you have in mind?"

Quistis' lips curled briefly in a sneer which she hid in a quick smile. "Martin DeBrye," she said, smiling sweetly. "He works in the Library. He's very bright, but he doesn't have that much field experience because of his poor vision. And he's still a cadet - you can consider this part of his field exam."

Something about the way she said it - the light in her eyes, the smugness of her grin - made Squall take pause. He sat back in his chair and looked at Quistis, hard, as if seeing her for the first time. A lesser woman might have cracked in the face of such scrutiny. Quistis, however, had had ample opportunity to grow immune to Squall's stares. Being told to talk to a wall could do that to a person, she thought with some vindication.

The silence stretched thin in the office; finally, it was Squall who broke it first with a heavy sigh. He was tired; he needed a vacation from bandits and mayors and wayward SeeDs and most of all, he needed Rinoa to stop forcing him to sleep on the couch. "I'll have to discuss this with Zell first," he said slowly.

If anything, Quistis' eyes shone a little more brightly than before. Squall began to question his sanity. Not only had Quistis requested a SeeD cadet as backup for herself, now she was actually looking forward to having Zell, of all people, question the soundness of her own strategy. And here he was, seriously considering it. A muffled clatter from outside of his closed doors drew their attention, and when Quistis turned to face Squall once more, her Coeurl smile was back in place.

"That should be him now," she said placidly. Sure enough, the door burst open moments later, and a sweating, out-of-breath blonde SeeD came crashing in behind it.

"Oh man! Sorry I'm late," Zell huffed, his face beet-red. He gave a quick, unsteady bow of apology to Squall and then halted awkwardly in mid-air as he caught sight of Quistis, uncertain of what to make of her presence or her strange, disconcerting smile. His first gut reaction was that she remembered with everything from their evening together in the Library with perfect clarity, and was somehow plotting with Squall to murder him quietly. His second, also gut reaction, was that for a person with a zinger of a magic hangover, she looked pretty good. His final and less spontaneous reaction was to straighten up out of the uncomfortable half-bow he had found himself frozen in before his back began to hurt. Great, and now Squall was looking at him funny, too. "Uh, so, what's up?" he fenced, quickly directing his gaze away from what he called the Danger Zone - a smiling Quistis - and right into the Minefield, it looked like, from the grim twist to Squall’s lips and hard glint in his eye.

"It's about Balamb," Squall began, and Zell immediately felt himself flushing deeply.

Shit! He found out that we went to Felicia's! What if he thinks it's a date? What if he decks my ranking? What if he takes Quistis' license again? He frowned at the last thought; most of the cadets would probably be thanking him for freeing him from another week of Terrible Trepe's coursework. And it wasn't like it affected him personally, after all. Then again, the expression that had graced her face when she was in her classroom... Zell shook his head firmly. No. He wouldn't be the reason Quistis lost her teaching license again; it wasn't fair to her, and it was his fault, in a way, for asking her out in the first place. Now he just had to figure out how to make Squall see that, though...

"Okay, look, I know what you're gonna say," Zell began, talking rapidly as he held his hands up. "But it's totally my own fault, alright? Quistis had nothin' to do with it this time, so -"

Squall's eyebrow quirked as he silenced the blathering blonde with a wave of his hand. "Of course Quistis isn't involved in this personally. You two weren't even there this time. The Balamb Bandits targeted another citizen."

"What?" The silence that loomed as the import of Squall's words percolated into Zell's mind was broken by a rustle of paper. Quistis was standing before him, her back to Squall's desk as she faced him, subtly blocking him from their Commander's view.

"Trust me," she mouthed to him quietly while handing him the envelope. "And for Hyne's sake, don't lose your temper," she added silently for good measure, tempering her grin with a much more familiar stern glance. All of that was quickly forgotten as he pulled the memo away from the stack of photographs she pressed into his hands and studied the grainy pictures before him. "There's been an incident..." he heard her say distantly. He was sure her lips were moving, and that she was no doubt rattling off facts and details in her usual precise style. Zell, however, wasn't listening. The focus of his attention span had narrowed down to the window of the photographs he was currently rifling through with shaking hands.

... the van... my house... and - oh Hyne, he wasn't sure if he was ever going to be able to eat another hotdog again, and for that alone, the crime was unforgivable.

"... requested backup," Squall was saying to him. "Zell? Are you even listening?" Quistis had stepped to his side, obviously getting wind of the storm brewing behind his telltale scowl and preparing whatever damage control she thought might be necessary.

"He's dead meat," Zell managed to mumble through gritted teeth.

"Pardon?" Squall said, his brows furrowing.

"I said that bastard is HISTORY!" Zell replied, his voice growing progressively louder as the photos crumpled between his shaking fists. "I'm gonna grind him up into little pieces an'- an'-" The tattoo on the side of Zell's face was starting to blend in nicely with the rest of his skin from the furiousness of his flush. "An' turn him into a goddamn HOTDOG!"

Squall gave him an understanding grimace. "Zell, we've all had our own unique experiences with Seifer -"

"THAT ASSHOLE FUCKED WITH MY LITTLE BRO!" Zell roared in response. "And that's MY HOUSE!" Quistis' arm had moved from unobtrusively pressing into his own to actually physically restraining him from storming over to Squall's desk and breaking something.

"That... was your brother," Squall repeated, shooting a quick glance at Quistis as he felt his migraine begin to spike. Had she known? Quistis only gave him her best wide-eyed look of confusion and surprise in reply, one which lacked its usual intensity due to the white tracks her fingers were leaving on Zell's flushed skin as she gripped his arm to restrain him.

"I'm gonna KILL him!" Zell swore belligerently. Between the interesting shade of purple his face was beginning to take and the flaring of his nostrils, he could've passed for a scrawny third member of the GF Brothers.

"Zell, you need to calm down, " Quistis was saying, forcefully directing him backwards into a chair. She managed to pry the mangled remains of the report out of his fingers and surreptitiously toss them back to Squall.

"You gotta give me this one, Squall,” Zell managed to bite out. "I gotta know if Ma's alright!" Then, a gamble: "You can't stop me from going. " This was not entirely true; Squall could and probably would be able to stop him from going anywhere. But dammit, that punk Seifer had messed with his Ma. "C’mon, man, you know this ain't right!"

"Zell, be quiet."

"But - but -"

Squall's fist descended onto his abused desk with a loud thump. One of the leg supports collapsed with a quiet crack, and the desk came to rest at a haphazard angle from the floor as papers, pens and dolls slowly began sliding towards the now gently-sloping edge. "I said Shut. Up." Squall, for his part, was starting to second-guess Irvine's grand plan. Zell was obviously too emotionally involved to handle the mission; he opened his mouth to say as much and was cut off by Quistis, who spoke first.

"He's right, Squall. Zell needs this mission." Quistis put a hand on Zell's shoulder, a motion which would've set off a myriad of alarm bells in Squall's head had he been paying attention. As it was, the organizational avalanche had distracted him sufficiently; Squall's jaw twitched, but Quistis only fixed him under her own patented stare. "Zell should check up on his family anyway - you can't seriously expect him to remain here and do nothing while they're obviously in danger." Though to say they were in danger was a bit of a stretch. True, the Dincht family was in danger of mortal embarrassment, maybe, but to Quistis, what was done was already done. She really didn't see how it could get much worse than having your house transformed into a life-sized Hyne's Hot Sauce advertisement. After all, they had weathered many years of not only having a boisterous Zell as their son, but also being proud of it.

"It would be more efficient to send us both on this mission. I'll keep him in line, and even if I can't we'll have a failsafe in place. Squin- Cadet DeBrye will be there to keep an eye on us. Sir." Squall didn't look entirely convinced; the opportunity however was too great to risk. Quistis knew Squall detested emotional displays just as much as she did; swallowing her distaste, she curbed her pride and struck a low blow to ensure her victory. "Squall, please. Don't think of this as just another mission. Think of it as a personal favor to us. Your friends."

Squall groaned inwardly. There it was again. Damn that guilty conscience of his; it led to all sorts of problems, like inane knick-knacks displayed prominently on his desk and sensitive missions assignments being handed out because of hopeful requests. It was bad enough that Rinoa was upset with him; Irvine and now even Quistis was dragging friendship into it as well. Right about then Squall was questioning just how much trouble keeping his friends was worth, considering the pinch he was sure the cowboy had somehow managed to leave him in. Then again, he was certain that opting to bar his office doors permanently from any intrusion and tossing his phone out the window would only land him in deeper trouble with Rinoa that he already was.

"Fine. You have your assignment. Be sure to keep him," Squall gave a curt nod towards the almost-catatonic Zell "- under control. Now get out of here and have my secretary send Cadet DeBrye up for a briefing."

Keeping her victorious smile to herself, Quistis bowed her head quickly in silent acquiescence and ushered Zell briskly out of the confines of Squall's office. Zell stopped before they could make a full retreat, turning and regarding Squall with huge eyes.

"So you mean you're lettin' me go to Balamb?" he asked incredulously.

"Just leave," Squall replied, dropping his head into his palm with a silent groan. Even the heavy closed doors of his office couldn't quite drown out the sound of Zell's furious "Yeah!" from outside. The Commander sighed and gathered the now-scattered papers on his now-crooked desk into a neat pile. Although he didn't necessarily doubt Quistis' judgment, this Cadet DeBrye would have to be one hell of a back-up squad to stop an enraged Zell Dincht.

.x.x.x.

Zell threw another punch to the air, his entire demeanor tense and vicious. Students scattered before him. Quistis herself was a little unnerved by the entire display: she'd never seen Zell this full of dangerous energy, not even when he was preparing for a Final Heaven. She was trying to hold on to his elbow - trying, and almost failing. If only she could herd Zell somewhere safe before he exploded... hopefully she could contain some of the damage. For now, Zell was still silent, almost catatonically silent, simply punching the air in spastic spurts. Phrases like "the calm before the storm" and "the eye of the hurricane" flitted across Quistis' mind, and she knew she had to hurry to get him away from Squall's office before Zell's temper changed the Commander's mind.

Student faces paled in fear as they approached; apparently between Zell's red-faced rage and her own tight-lipped, satisfied smile, the danger was almost tangible. With no small amount of difficulty, Quistis managed to lead a kicking Zell to the elevator and down the appropriate hallway. She'd never really registered how... strong Zell was. He was short, yes - actually shorter than she was (especially in her heels) - and he was more compact than most fist-fighters, which simply made him look small and almost child-like. But his size had nothing to do with the intensity of his strength. Quistis found herself re-evaluating her opinion of Zell as related to his size, and favorably. The punches he was throwing into the air would've hurt an Aero spell, and she could tell by the laxness of his hands that he wasn't even trying yet. His shoulder muscles were barely flexing as he jabbed at what she could only imagine was an invisible Seifer Almasy. Her mind's-eye could almost see Seifer wincing in pain as Zell's punches landed in sensitive male areas; Quistis smiled to herself, and it was not a kind smile.

Realizing she'd spent the past five minutes thinking about Zell's muscles, Quistis blushed and fumbled for her ID card. Clinging to Zell's shirt with one hand and swiping her card with the next, she managed to shove him through the door to her office, which was the closest place she could think of that was safe. Once the door had closed behind her with a reassuring click, Quistis relaxed her vice-like grip on Zell's arm.

Zell instantly kicked over the nearest thing he could see, which happened to be Quistis' potted plant. She bit her lip as the pot cracked and rich, dark soil splattered all over her carpet and walls. Pottery shards bounced and ricocheted, clattering around the room.

"That fuckin'... piece of shit!" Zell kicked the remains of the pot for good measure; it slammed into the opposite wall, leaving an interesting dent shape which Quistis knew she'd be explaining to the custodial service in a few days. Wincing, she continued to stand still, not wanting to bring Zell's attention in her direction. Zell would never hurt her on purpose - but Meteor Strike wasn't exactly known for its accuracy.

Zell took a couple slow, wrenching steps forward, still muttering mostly to himself. "He's just... bastard's just pickin' on me, now." One fist flashed out, glowing with sudden force; Zell slammed it into the wall, snarling. "My fuckin' house. My fuckin' brother!"

He pulled his hand out of the crumbling hole, sinking to a crouch in near-frustration. Seifer Almasy had tormented him before, yes. But the pranks had been aimed at him, and Zell Dincht was man enough to take them. This time Seifer had lashed out at his family. His hometown. Zell pounded the ground in frustration and anger, vaguely feeling the room shudder. If Seifer Almasy wanted to mess with him - if he really wanted a piece of Zell Dincht - if he really, honestly thought Zell was nothing but a Chicken Wuss -

Belatedly, Zell became aware of a sharp voice calling his name. Something had grabbed his arm mid-swing - swing? Apparently he'd been punching the carpet - and was holding him back from... no, not something, someone. Quistis.

She was glowing faintly with the force of her Junctions, all of which she'd had to rearrange onto her brute strength before she could hold Zell's arm back long enough to say his name. "That's enough, Zell!" she managed to spit out through gritted teeth as she wrenched his arm back.

Zell sagged instantly. His gaze fell to the ground in shame, his rage still burning. Unfortunately, the state of Quistis' carpet didn't make him feel much better. Burnt concentric circles marked the floor in a ragged and irregular pattern; at the center of each was a small still-smoking crater, almost the size of his fist.

"Well," Quistis said acidly, dropping Zell's arm in relief. "It's a good thing I hated that carpet. Although I can't say the same thing about my plant." Her eyes flicked to the other side of the room, where Zell saw - his face flamed - dirt scattered everywhere, decorated by shards of pottery and a few forlorn green leaves.

"Hyne, Quisty, I'm sorry." He didn't even have to try to make it sound heartfelt: his emotions were still raging. "I just - that's my family, dammit." There was an uncomfortable pause, during which Zell only managed to feel more embarrassed. "I'll buy you a new plant?"

To his surprise, Quistis laughed. "Why do you think I brought you in here, Zell?" She gestured at their surroundings. "Better a plant than some young cadet."

Zell rocked back on his heels. "We gotta get him this time, Quisty." His voice was urgent. "I'll do whatever you say, I promise. We gotta get him this time. He's gone too far."

"That he has," Quistis said vaguely. "They both have." The cold, calculating tone in her voice made Zell look up in alarm. She was looking out the window, her eyes narrowed and focused. She had dirt all over her blouse - not that I'm looking at her blouse, Zell thought hastily - and a long smear of it down her cheek. She looked dangerous, much like she had the night before. Except this time, Zell doubted she had an Esuna-high as an excuse. This was simply dangerous. "We're not going to let them take advantage of us any more."

The word 'both' finally caught up to Zell's brain. "Wait, who?"

Quistis turned to him, and her gaze softened slightly, though it was no less dangerous. "Listen, Zell," she began. "I need you to focus, and work with me, or else this plan isn't going to succeed at all."

"Plan?" Slowly, Zell stood up. "There's a plan?"

"Oh, yes." Quistis turned her Coeurl-like smile back towards the window. "I have a plan."





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