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At
an Arm's Length
A Final Fantasy VIII Story
by
Aligator
Chapter 7 - The Garden Festival Committee & The Anti-Valentine’s Day Bash
Irvine sat patiently on the third bench to the left of the classroom’s door. Waiting. Casually. Just like he had every day since Selphie came back from her last mission and she started that refresher course in code breaking.
She was running late. This was a usual occurrence for the head of the Garden Festival Committee. He straightened his legs out in front of him, leaning his head back and tipping the brim of his beloved cowboy hat so it covered his eyes. All the better to think about the two ladies most dear to my heart.
That sounds like one of my, admittedly corny, country songs, he smiled to himself. However amusing he found that thought, it didn’t change the fact he was totally screwed.
Valentine’s Day was coming up, and the self-proclaimed “lady killer” of Balamb Garden had finally met his match – in the form of a pixie that just happened to be as flighty as the butterflies he used to capture gently and release as a child. Selphie Tilmitt. Now if only that infatuated idiot, the one she also happens to like, would just. . .
A shadow fell over him, briefly, before a body emphatically threw itself onto the bench beside him. I hope her ears are burning.
“IRRVVY!”
He could visualize the pout before he had even opened his eyes. His normally sunny Selphie was having an overcast day. “What’s up, darlin’?” he asked, moving to sit up. I *already know* I’m not going to like this answer.
“I
didn’t plan a Valentine’s Day dance like I wanted to because I figured
that
Chase. . .”
Chase, what a wimp name.
“. . . ask me out, but he didn’t. He asked. . .”
Bastard. Making my Selphie sad. Wait – that’s good for me! But I can’t ask her out now. . . Valentine’s Day. . . the pressure. Oh, God. I suck.
“So I’m stuck with nothing to do, and it’s my favorite holiday, but now I’m thinking I should drag Quistis out, because she shouldn’t be alone on a day like that – at least not to be stalked by the Trepies. I mean, what good is a fan club, if they get all creepy like that?”
At this point, Irvine felt the need to interrupt. “Stop. Breathe.”
“Oh. . . yeah. Sorry ‘bout that,” she grinned sheepishly. “I forget sometimes.”
“Yeah. You do, but that’s all right.” He could barely stifle his grin.
Y’know, Irvine’s really cute when he smiles and his eyes crinkle up in the corners like that. . .
“Earth to Selphie!”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Again.”
“So it sounded like you had a plan?” he started for her.
“Right! Since you and Quistis and I are basically the only people on the Festival Committee who actually do anything, why don’t we plan to hang out or something?”
Or something. Irvine looked at her suspiciously, “What makes you think that I don’t have plans that night?”
She giggled nervously, “Well, Irvine, news travels fast and. . . I hadn’t heard any about you?”
“Good save.”
“Thank you! So whadaya say?”
“I’m in.”
“Whoohoo!” she simultaneously yelped and sprung from her seat. “Now we’ve got to go tell Q about our fabulous Anti-Valentine’s Day Bash!”
Before Selphie had moved three steps, a calm voice caused her to pause mid-bounce. “Tell Quistis about what?”
“QUISTIS! Irvine’ll fill you in,” the petite girl replied, as she continued to bound through the Quad.
The blonde sat down next to a dumbfounded Irvine and inwardly grinned as he looked in awe at the yellow streak dodging bodies in a race to the next destination.
“So Cowboy, did you get thrown again?”
“What gave it away?” he grumbled, causing the corners of Quistis’ mouth to twitch into a wry smile.
“Nothing that most people would see, I’m just talented that way,” she sighed. “So why didn’t you ask her out for Valentine’s Day?”
“. . .”
“Chicken.”
“Hey! Don’t compare me to Zell!” Irvine sputtered.
She eyed him suspiciously, and he looked back at her wide-eyed. There was only one person who called Zell a “chicken” – or more accurately a “Chicken-wuss,” but since Irvine had attended Galbadia Garden, there was no way he could know that unless...
“Quistis?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I got all defensive, it’s just that. . . I don’t want to screw things up. I mean. . .”
“Selphie’s that important,” she finished for him.
His reddened face was the only answer Quistis needed.
“Irvine, if you ever need any help with anything. . . let me know, O.K.?”
His temporary embarrassment was now replaced by his usual, affectionate grin. “You’ve always been on my side.”
“Really?” she asked lightly as they got up to go their separate ways.
“Yeah,” Irvine said, as he turned himself and placed one hand on each of the former instructor’s shoulders. “Just don’t forget that there are people on your side, too.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and burst out laughing as he made his getaway.“Y’know, thanks to you and the butterfly, I’m going to be the envy of the Garden’s entire male population!”
*****
It really is backwards, Irvine thought as he entered Balamb’s finest flower shop. Buying Selphie’s present should be the stressful part of this whole exercise. After all, she totally wrecks me.
But in actuality, finding something for his most reliable confidant was turning out to be the real trick. He knew that she had major gaps in her memory from their time at the orphanage, and he truly believed that when it was time to remember, she would. Without his help. Unfortunately, every so often, like the other day in the Quad, he slipped.
Maybe it’s better that she doesn’t remember him and what he was to her then. I mean, I don’t know what went down between the two of them – only what I saw during our battle – but. . .
There was always a “but.” In his heart, he just couldn’t believe that it was better this way. It seems so wrong.
He had gone ‘round and ‘round about a gift for Quistis, but he kept coming back to the same thing: at the orphanage she had always loved flowers – not just any flowers, though, three kinds in particular.
The other two will always be his, Irvine mused silently, picking over the delicate, potted plants to find the most vibrant cluster of the lot. But the violets belong to all of us.
*****
There were occasional times when Quistis’ generally distrustful nature was anything but an asset. This was one such time.
“Matron agreed to help me way too easily,” she muttered to herself, slightly stumbling on a loose brick in the corridor. “Darn! I’m going to be late.”
It was Valentine’s Day and the night of Selphie’s “Anti-Valentine’s Day Bash.” Since Quistis had a habit of bailing on other, similar occasions, her “sis” had insisted that Irvine bring her to the restaurant where they planned to kick-off their celebration.
That’s what they *think* is going to happen, she smirked to herself. And that’s where Matron comes in.
“What are you grinning about, Quis?”
She started, and found herself eye to eye with Irvine. “Oh, nothing,” she replied with as much innocence as she could muster.
“Hmhm. I’ll bet.” He offered her his arm, “Shall we?”
A smile and a nod, and they made their way to Garden’s entry gate. Just as they were passing through the checkpoint, Quistis’ cell phone rang loudly.
“Oh, hello, Headmaster. . . can’t it wait until morning?”
The blue eyes of her pony-tailed dinner companion narrowed suspiciously.
“Oh,” she continued with feigned disappointment. “I see. . .yes. All right, I’ll report to your office ASAP.”
Clicking her phone off, she turned to face a none-too-amused Irvine. “I’m going to need a rain check from the two of you. Duty calls.”
A large hand gently grabbed her forearm. “You’re not off the hook, yet,” he said solemnly.
“O.K.,” she half-sighed, and leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek before moving in to whisper in his ear. “Happy Valentine’s Day. Go get her.”
His eyes widened and a slow grin overtook his features. She had this planned all along. “Sir?”
The guard nodded.
“Could you see that Miss Trepe gets in, O.K.? Y’know, no Trepie-stalkers?”
The older man smirked. “No Trepie-stalkers.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Quistis.”
*****
It was a little after 7 p.m. by the time Quistis returned to her quarters.
Edea and Cid had been thrilled to hear that their part in her charade went off without a hitch, and her designated Trepie-repeller, well. . . he had been pleased to earn bragging rights among his colleagues for escorting Garden’s famous prodigy on her errands.
It’s nice to have a break from everyone. She stretched and leaned against the inside of her closed door for a moment before moving across the room to drop her keys on the crowded desktop.
Her desk was always slightly cluttered, but there was more clutter than usual tonight. She flicked on the lamp by her bedside, and its dim light revealed a potted violet.
She thoughtfully traced its soft, royal purple petals with her fingertips before noticing the envelope that served as a mat for the unexpected gift.
The handwriting gave away who had left it. Irvine. . .we weren’t supposed to give gifts.
A slight grin passed over her face as read the card.
Q – If you’re reading this before 11 p.m., you’ve been up to your usual tricks. Even so, you’re one of my best friends, past and present.
I know you don’t remember much from our time at the orphanage, but the violets were one of our particular favorites. There’s one more thing: in the envelope, you’ll find a CD with one of my favorites. You keep to yourself a lot, Quis, but when you play this song, please know that you’re never truly alone.
Happy
Valentine’s Day. . .
Irvine (and Selphie, too, if she knew about this.)
She picked the disc up gently, examining it before placing it safely in the CD player and pressing “play.”
The arrangement was beautiful, not entirely different from his normal country and blues.
“All alone at the end of the evening. . . when the bright lights have faded away. . .”
She moved to the window to look at the almost starless sky. She could understand why Irvine liked this song.
“. . . Y’know I’ve always been a dreamer. . . but the dreams I’ve seen lately, keep on turnin’ out and burnin’ out and turnin’ out the same. . .”
A strange, overwhelming feeling rose from inside of Quistis.
“If it all fell to pieces tomorrow. . . would you still be mine?”
Unconsciously, she gripped the window sill as she continued to listen to the song and watch the moonlight play upon the large body of water in the distance.
“Put me on a highway and show me a sign. . .”
Breathlessly, one word inexplicably came to her lips, “Seifer.”
“Take it to the limit. . . one more time.”
*****
The green numbers on Quistis’ alarm clock silently marked the time as 1:00 a.m., but the figure tossing and turning in the bed was anything but peaceful.
She thrashed around for a few more minutes before the observant being seated in the chair by the window moved to her bedside and placed its hand on her forehead.
“My child,” it whispered. “You’ve earned some peace, if only for tonight.”
A bright blue light illuminated the room for an instant and was just as quickly gone, leaving behind a young woman with pleasant dreams of a childhood long-forgotten. . . of the sun, the seashore and a playmate with blue-green eyes.
To
be continued. . .
Next week: Chapter 8 – The Ugly Truth
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Official Disclaimer:
AT AN ARM'S LENGTH © 2002-2004 A.L. Roberts.
FINAL FANTASY VIII © Squaresoft. They own these characters,
I’m
just borrowing them for a little bit. Buy their games, and give them your
money! The song lyrics are borrowed
from the classic Eagles’ song “Take It to the Limit.”
(Written by Randy Meisner, Don Henley and Glen Frey.)
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