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Quistis had always considered herself rather
patient and understanding, but she found herself more and more
lacking in both areas as the days flew by and they still had that
ominous threat of future sorceresses looming over them. Well, maybe
she wasn’t expected to understand the reasoning of someone bent on
destroying time, but it still bugged her, like the proverbial sore
tooth, that she couldn’t figure Ultimecia out.
As for patience, she suspected she’d spent it all
on her favorite problem students.
And now she was left on the Ragnarok while Squall,
Rinoa and Zell were off doing God knows what – something about a
research center, here, in the middle of the sea; she would’ve
loved to come along, it was right up her alley, but she would
have to let her broken arm heal a little longer first. Damn those
Malboros for being so selfish about their tentacles, and damn herself
for being so stubbornly decided on getting them too, for that matter.
(It had been worth it, though, she thought and touched the coiled-up
whip hanging at her waist lovingly. She just… didn’t need to think
about the details. Ugh.)
Selphie and Irvine were left aboard too, but she
didn’t dare to visit the cockpit. Her poor virgin eyes would probably
burst from the experience, judging by the excited giggling and…
other sounds she could hear filtering down.
She made another round of the premises, measuring
up step by precise step, and she could feel her face slipping into
Instructor mode again. Down the stairs, click, click, click said her
high heels against the hard floor, and she made her way over to the
air lock.
I wonder what it must’ve been like, she
thought idly, resting her fingertips lightly against the door
mechanism. Lost in space, just the two of them, and then a big
mechanical dragon appearing from nowhere; coming to save them like a
true deus ex machina. And for at least that moment, they were
alone in a new world just for them. Being born anew, huh? Well, at
least it seemed like Squall had been.
Damn! She formed her hand into a tight fist
and punched the wall. At least it worked as a distraction against
those tears springing unbidden to her eyes; it hurt, but physical
pain she could deal with.
Alone on the space ship serving as a monument to
Squall’s and Rinoa’s love? No, there existed far better places for
her to be right now, and that probably included being right back in
battle against the tentacled beast (even though she still had a bad
taste lingering like a hangover in her brain).
But it wasn’t like her to mope like this. Chin up,
deep breath, turn around and walk back to your cabin – and there’s Laguna behind you with a frown on his face.
Right. She’d totally forgotten about the
Esthar president, and some of that confusion must’ve slipped through
to her face, because he offered her an arm and “a game of
cards?”
Laguna was a crappy player, and Quistis cards were
far better than his, so they decided on playing with a random deck to
even out the odds a little and it seemed his skills were picking up
after a while. It surprised her, but as she placed an Oilboyle,
flipping over three cards in the process, she found herself having
fun.
“I don’t think he minds,” she discovered
herself saying, later, and Laguna scrunched up his face and sent her
a quizzical look.
“Squall, I mean,” she clarified, vaguely
shocked with herself for bringing this up, now. “We haven’t
talked about it, of course, but I do think he likes you. But don’t
expect him to treat you like a father; he’s been doing without for so
long.” If Quistis had been the type, she would’ve covered her
mouth by now. ‘Am I still talking?’
Laguna blushed faintly, and then his face split up
in a goofy grin which he quickly hid as he turned away to scratch his
neck. “You knew?” he mumbled into his hair, and then he
composed himself and turned to face her again. The grin was still
there, though, and it made him look so much younger, so
heart-wrenchingly happy she decided the indiscretion had been
worth it.
Quistis shrugged. “Ellone left clues all
over,” she said, “and somehow, when I see you together…”
“We’re that much alike?” Laguna guessed.
Quistis giggled. “Not at all, no,” she
smiled. “Polar opposites. But there’s something…” she
trailed off and shook her head. “Let’s keep playing. You should
have this talk with him.”
Laguna nodded, and put down a Buel in a completely
illogical position, and Quistis sighed and won the game with an Imp.
And then Squall and the others returned battle-weary, scarred and
joined by two new guardian forces (two! In the middle of the sea!)
and it was all business again.
Quistis couldn’t stop thinking about it, though.
Polar opposites, except for your shared total dedication to the
people you love, she mused, and suddenly the thought struck her
that maybe Laguna… He’s all that Squall isn’t but yet he’s almost
Squall, and maybe that would make the difference?
But no, she may be old beyond her years and adult
since the age of ten while he would never ever grow up, but it would
be too weird. Wow. Where did that thought come from?
Still, she couldn’t stop that peculiar notion from
returning later, when it all was over and they were supposed to live
happily ever after. Occasionally – far too often, and it didn’t
help that they now had “diplomatic relations” with Esthar
(too formal a word, really) – she would find herself mulling it
over, and think “Well, maybe one day?” before she
stuffed that thought right back into whatever deep, psychologically
unsound recess in the corner of her mind it came from.
Too
weird.