MC Falling Into Infinity 01

Author's Note: This is a story. I'm not writing this with intent to put certain characters together romantically, I'm basically making this up as I go along. If you're going to flame it because you'd prefer to see so and so hook up with such and such, please don't bother. I'll merely laugh. Otherwise, enjoy.

But, Squall Leonhart was very much alive. Barely eighteen, a child in the eyes of many, and yet the Commander of an entire mercenary company. Garden. The only Garden left following the Second Sorceress War. Oh he wasn't the only one being lauded as a hero, there were others. Quistis Trepe, Zell Dincht, Selphie Tilmitt, Irvine Kinneas, Rinoa Heartilly, even Seifer Almasy had his own part in all of the tale. Not the knightly example he wanted to set originally, far from his romantic dream, the blonde was still seen as some sort of tragic foil in the stories and biographies that had suddenly popped up like wildfire following the end of Ultimecia's terror-laden reign.

As time passes, however, things change. People change. In peacetimes Cid had left Squall as the Commander, leaving the boy to sink or swim with the position. During the war, he'd excelled, reluctantly accepting the responsibility as a necessity of the time. He hadn't expected Garden's Headmaster to leave him in charge once things calmed again. Oh, he had plenty of advisors, even Cid himself merrily came around to inform Squall of this meeting or that diplomat arriving to discuss such and such a topic. And he loathed every moment of it.

Rinoa was the one thing in his life that allowed him a moment of stability, and even that had been threatened recently. They were children, after all, with all the yearnings of youthful hearts and fickle minds. Rinoa had remained at his side, there for him on those long nights when his brooding had taken him down a paticularly dark psychological alley. However, he felt the strain between them lately, her avoidance. He didn't doubt her loyalty to him, but he did doubt her love for him. Were they destined to remain together? Their relationship had begun under the stress of the war, could it somehow be maintained through times of peace? He knew he'd come to rely on her too heavily, now. Perhaps he was even stifling her.

It was this thought pattern that drew the young Commander out of his room that evening. The Dormitory corridor was empty, his boots ringing hollowly on the tile floors to provide a distraction as he noticed the deathly silence around him. Since the war, SeeD hadn't often been hired for military operations, merely as bodyguards or diplomatic escorts. There were no more strained relations between Dollet and Galbadia. In fact, Galbadia had been treading lightly lately. Their involvement with the Ultimecia controlled Edea was not forgotten, nor was their destruction of Trabia forgiven. Esthar's sudden re-emergence from their xenophobic invisibility upped the stakes of war as well. There were definate tensions, but so far it remained a cold war of words and politics rather then armies and military might. Thusly, Garden remained quiet. Hardly the bustle of activity it had been a few months earlier.

To the upper deck he wandered, looking out over the landscape of Balamb Isle. He felt the comfort of being alone, hoping perhaps he wouldn't be disturbed in his reveries. Zell and Irvine seemed to have the worst habit of finding him during these moments, but at least this time he was assured of his peace. Zell and Selphie had been dispatched as escorts for a Galbadian diplomat en route to Esthar. Irvine and Quistis similarly were sent off to Galbadia to keep an eye on the political dissent growing there. Since the death of Vinzer Deling, there had been several coups to usurp the Presidency from his brother and the Deling family. Though Squall wasn't overly fond of Frankard Deling or his brood, he wasn't supposed to decide moral issues and when the President approached him about hiring out SeeD to root out the rebels, he'd accepted and sent two of his best.

Evening was arriving, the sun descending to sleep beneath the arch of the world as the Commander watched impassively. A few stars had already begun to wink in the skies above, though one flash in paticular caught his eye. This was no star, but perhaps an aircraft, headed toward Garden. Straightening, Squall frowned as he watched its approach. No one was due to arrive here today, and the only craft missing from Garden was the Ragnarok, as Selphie had taken it for the diplomatic mission. Then it hit him, that danger sense, the palpable feeling that something simply wasn't right. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck in warning.

Irvine Kinneas was soaking wet when he entered the hotel room he and Quistis shared for the duration of their time in Galbadia. Leaning heavily against the door, he exhaled a melodramatic sigh, removing the drenched hat to set it against his chest, over his heart. "Quistis, whatever you do, don't go outside. It's raining cats and dogs and they're biting too."

Quistis Trepe glanced up from the laptop in front of her, adjusting her glasses as she smirked at the wet cowboy. "I'll take that under advisement, now get changed." A few last typed words, and her latest report was finally sent off, though she puttered around further, checking recorded notes and observations she and Irvine had witnessed in the three days since they'd arrived in Galbadia. This was for a number of purposes. She liked to re-read her thoughts, checking to make sure she hadn't missed something. She always remembered something later, and often ended up adding more notations to her already extensive notes on the mission. And, most of all, it kept her from looking up at Irvine as he started stripping out of his clothing. Oh, he had no interest in Quistis, thoroughly leashed by one Selphie Tilmitt as of late, but the boy had utterly no sense of propriety. Why they hadn't seen fit to give the two separate rooms was beyond her understanding, but she was coping.

"I met with the contact though, he was a few minutes late, but that's ok. Usually that's my perogative," Irvine said with a chuckle. He'd gotten out of everything but his jeans, which were spared the rainfall by his chaps. He saw nothing wrong with wandering around in just that, though Quistis was obviously refusing to look at him. For her comfort, he found a shirt from his bag and threw it on.

"It's your perogative when we're not on a mission, Kinneas," Quistis replied somewhat sternly, flicking her turquoise gaze toward the cowboy as she realized he'd finally donned something decent. "Here, you type it up yourself. I'll send it off tomorrow."

Picking up the laptop, she scooted across her bed to hold it out toward Irvine. With a sigh he took it reluctantly. Paperwork and follow up reports weren't his forte. Just point him in the right direction and he'd point the gun. That was his take on things. Still, Squall seemed confident he and Quistis would work well together on this mission. It irked him, a little, that he'd not been allowed to accompany Selphie instead. Why, he wasn't exactly sure. The little wonder in yellow wasn't his girlfriend, though the two were often mistaken for a couple as they hung out together all the time. They'd so often been dispatched on missions together that he'd just begun to take it for granted. Which is why this sudden change caught him so off guard.

"I didn't get much out of him, except that there's a meeting tomorrow night, for anyone wanting to join the revolution," Irvine said idly as he typed, hitting the backspace a few times as he frowned. Quistis was so much better with her prose, always sounding so official in her reports. There were times that the cowboy felt a little inadequete compared to her steely resolve and professional mannerisms. But, one talent she simply did not possess was all his: the ability to fasttalk his way into and out of nearly any situation. It's the primary reason they'd gotten this far in the mission so quickly. Quistis was simply too high strung, too cool to seem real and heartfelt when she tried to appeal to their first contact. It had almost been a loss, at least until Irvine spoke up. He had a natural way of empathizing with people and before either realized it, he'd gotten them in. Quisty had even called him a sonovagun for it. Because of it, he was the one sent out to deal with the various contacts as they were presented.

The situation in Deling was rather intense, several rebel groups springing up out of the chaos that had ensued following Vinzer Deling's death. The most powerful of them called themselves GFF, or Galbadian Freedom Front. They were so organized that no one could infiltrate their numbers without being eventually sniffed out and snuffed. The Galbadian government had tried several times already, and finally gave up, hiring out SeeD for the job in hopes they might succeed where their soldiers had failed. It was fairly easy for Irvine, who actually felt sympathy for them. His heart wasn't at all in this mission. He'd grown up in Galbadia, his foster parents herders outside the city limits, and he knew the repression the people had been under for years. It had only grown worse since Vinzer's death. Taxes soared, curfews were enforced strictly, rationing of goods had become commonplace, all of it only further fueled the restlessness of the Galbadian people.

"Well, I'll be accompanying you tomorrow night then, but you get to do all the talking, cowboy," Quistis replied. Walking toward the balcony, she watched the rain patter against the window panes in a steady stream. Irvine annoyed her with his brashness, his utter lack of discipline, but even she had to admit his natural way of being had saved the mission. She'd bristled initially when he'd interrupted her with the first contact, but in retrospect, she understood and was grateful. Her own pride was not something to sacrifice the mission for.

Something outside attracted her eye, however, leading her out of her thoughts rather abruptly. In the alleyway below were a pair of men confronting one another in the pouring deluge. Opening the double doors, she ignored Irvine's questions as she walked out in the rain to peer down. After a moment, she felt his presence beside her, ignoring the fact that he smelled of old leather, gunpowder and newfallen rain. That just wasn't something she wanted clouding her senses, especially as the scene below unfolded before them.

The steady sheet of precipitation masked the pair below, their raingear making it nearly impossible to discern anything about either individual. They appeared to be in the midst of a struggle, grasping for a brown briefcase clasped in the smaller man's hand. There was a scream as a firearm fired and that was when Quistis realized Irvine was no longer standing beside her, he'd jumped down, shotgun in hand to take care of the situation personally.

"Kinneas, no!" she shouted uselessly, cursing the brash youth for his impetuousness. They had a mission, dammit, and he was putting it in jeopardy with this. Still, she knew his soft heart simply wouldn't allow him to sit back as some innocent was slaughtered in front of him. Dashing back into the room, she grabbed for her own weapon, praying nothing would happen to Irvine before she was able to join him.


	Falling Into Infinity Disclaimer: All Final Fantasy Characters and settings are property of Squaresoft. Author's Note: This is a story. I'm not writing this with intent to put certain characters together romantically, I'm basically making this up as I go along. If you're going to flame it because you'd prefer to see so and so hook up with such and such, please don't bother. I'll merely laugh. Otherwise, enjoy. Part 1: Peruvian Skies You're not a hero unless you die. But, Squall Leonhart was very much alive. Barely eighteen, a child in the eyes of many, and yet the Commander of an entire mercenary company. Garden. The only Garden left following the Second Sorceress War. Oh he wasn't the only one being lauded as a hero, there were others. Quistis Trepe, Zell Dincht, Selphie Tilmitt, Irvine Kinneas, Rinoa Heartilly, even Seifer Almasy had his own part in all of the tale. Not the knightly example he wanted to set originally, far from his romantic dream, the blonde was still seen as some sort of tragic foil in the stories and biographies that had suddenly popped up like wildfire following the end of Ultimecia's terror-laden reign. As time passes, however, things change. People change. In peacetimes Cid had left Squall as the Commander, leaving the boy to sink or swim with the position. During the war, he'd excelled, reluctantly accepting the responsibility as a necessity of the time. He hadn't expected Garden's Headmaster to leave him in charge once things calmed again. Oh, he had plenty of advisors, even Cid himself merrily came around to inform Squall of this meeting or that diplomat arriving to discuss such and such a topic. And he loathed every moment of it. Rinoa was the one thing in his life that allowed him a moment of stability, and even that had been threatened recently. They were children, after all, with all the yearnings of youthful hearts and fickle minds. Rinoa had remained at his side, there for him on those long nights when his brooding had taken him down a paticularly dark psychological alley. However, he felt the strain between them lately, her avoidance. He didn't doubt her loyalty to him, but he did doubt her love for him. Were they destined to remain together? Their relationship had begun under the stress of the war, could it somehow be maintained through times of peace? He knew he'd come to rely on her too heavily, now. Perhaps he was even stifling her. But, he had no idea how to stop. Once he hadn't needed anyone, a loner not only in name but in truth. Rinoa had changed that, and he couldn't go back. It was this thought pattern that drew the young Commander out of his room that evening. The Dormitory corridor was empty, his boots ringing hollowly on the tile floors to provide a distraction as he noticed the deathly silence around him. Since the war, SeeD hadn't often been hired for military operations, merely as bodyguards or diplomatic escorts. There were no more strained relations between Dollet and Galbadia. In fact, Galbadia had been treading lightly lately. Their involvement with the Ultimecia controlled Edea was not forgotten, nor was their destruction of Trabia forgiven. Esthar's sudden re-emergence from their xenophobic invisibility upped the stakes of war as well. There were definate tensions, but so far it remained a cold war of words and politics rather then armies and military might. Thusly, Garden remained quiet. Hardly the bustle of activity it had been a few months earlier. To the upper deck he wandered, looking out over the landscape of Balamb Isle. He felt the comfort of being alone, hoping perhaps he wouldn't be disturbed in his reveries. Zell and Irvine seemed to have the worst habit of finding him during these moments, but at least this time he was assured of his peace. Zell and Selphie had been dispatched as escorts for a Galbadian diplomat en route to Esthar. Irvine and Quistis similarly were sent off to Galbadia to keep an eye on the political dissent growing there. Since the death of Vinzer Deling, there had been several coups to usurp the Presidency from his brother and the Deling family. Though Squall wasn't overly fond of Frankard Deling or his brood, he wasn't supposed to decide moral issues and when the President approached him about hiring out SeeD to root out the rebels, he'd accepted and sent two of his best. Evening was arriving, the sun descending to sleep beneath the arch of the world as the Commander watched impassively. A few stars had already begun to wink in the skies above, though one flash in paticular caught his eye. This was no star, but perhaps an aircraft, headed toward Garden. Straightening, Squall frowned as he watched its approach. No one was due to arrive here today, and the only craft missing from Garden was the Ragnarok, as Selphie had taken it for the diplomatic mission. Then it hit him, that danger sense, the palpable feeling that something simply wasn't right. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck in warning. In front of the eyes of Garden's Commander, the ship suddenly exploded in a flash of light and ball of fire, nose diving into one of the forests of the plains. Part 2: Spark Irvine Kinneas was soaking wet when he entered the hotel room he and Quistis shared for the duration of their time in Galbadia. Leaning heavily against the door, he exhaled a melodramatic sigh, removing the drenched hat to set it against his chest, over his heart. "Quistis, whatever you do, don't go outside. It's raining cats and dogs and they're biting too." Quistis Trepe glanced up from the laptop in front of her, adjusting her glasses as she smirked at the wet cowboy. "I'll take that under advisement, now get changed." A few last typed words, and her latest report was finally sent off, though she puttered around further, checking recorded notes and observations she and Irvine had witnessed in the three days since they'd arrived in Galbadia. This was for a number of purposes. She liked to re-read her thoughts, checking to make sure she hadn't missed something. She always remembered something later, and often ended up adding more notations to her already extensive notes on the mission. And, most of all, it kept her from looking up at Irvine as he started stripping out of his clothing. Oh, he had no interest in Quistis, thoroughly leashed by one Selphie Tilmitt as of late, but the boy had utterly no sense of propriety. Why they hadn't seen fit to give the two separate rooms was beyond her understanding, but she was coping. "I met with the contact though, he was a few minutes late, but that's ok. Usually that's my perogative," Irvine said with a chuckle. He'd gotten out of everything but his jeans, which were spared the rainfall by his chaps. He saw nothing wrong with wandering around in just that, though Quistis was obviously refusing to look at him. For her comfort, he found a shirt from his bag and threw it on. "It's your perogative when we're not on a mission, Kinneas," Quistis replied somewhat sternly, flicking her turquoise gaze toward the cowboy as she realized he'd finally donned something decent. "Here, you type it up yourself. I'll send it off tomorrow." Picking up the laptop, she scooted across her bed to hold it out toward Irvine. With a sigh he took it reluctantly. Paperwork and follow up reports weren't his forte. Just point him in the right direction and he'd point the gun. That was his take on things. Still, Squall seemed confident he and Quistis would work well together on this mission. It irked him, a little, that he'd not been allowed to accompany Selphie instead. Why, he wasn't exactly sure. The little wonder in yellow wasn't his girlfriend, though the two were often mistaken for a couple as they hung out together all the time. They'd so often been dispatched on missions together that he'd just begun to take it for granted. Which is why this sudden change caught him so off guard. "I didn't get much out of him, except that there's a meeting tomorrow night, for anyone wanting to join the revolution," Irvine said idly as he typed, hitting the backspace a few times as he frowned. Quistis was so much better with her prose, always sounding so official in her reports. There were times that the cowboy felt a little inadequete compared to her steely resolve and professional mannerisms. But, one talent she simply did not possess was all his: the ability to fasttalk his way into and out of nearly any situation. It's the primary reason they'd gotten this far in the mission so quickly. Quistis was simply too high strung, too cool to seem real and heartfelt when she tried to appeal to their first contact. It had almost been a loss, at least until Irvine spoke up. He had a natural way of empathizing with people and before either realized it, he'd gotten them in. Quisty had even called him a sonovagun for it. Because of it, he was the one sent out to deal with the various contacts as they were presented. The situation in Deling was rather intense, several rebel groups springing up out of the chaos that had ensued following Vinzer Deling's death. The most powerful of them called themselves GFF, or Galbadian Freedom Front. They were so organized that no one could infiltrate their numbers without being eventually sniffed out and snuffed. The Galbadian government had tried several times already, and finally gave up, hiring out SeeD for the job in hopes they might succeed where their soldiers had failed. It was fairly easy for Irvine, who actually felt sympathy for them. His heart wasn't at all in this mission. He'd grown up in Galbadia, his foster parents herders outside the city limits, and he knew the repression the people had been under for years. It had only grown worse since Vinzer's death. Taxes soared, curfews were enforced strictly, rationing of goods had become commonplace, all of it only further fueled the restlessness of the Galbadian people. "Well, I'll be accompanying you tomorrow night then, but you get to do all the talking, cowboy," Quistis replied. Walking toward the balcony, she watched the rain patter against the window panes in a steady stream. Irvine annoyed her with his brashness, his utter lack of discipline, but even she had to admit his natural way of being had saved the mission. She'd bristled initially when he'd interrupted her with the first contact, but in retrospect, she understood and was grateful. Her own pride was not something to sacrifice the mission for. Something outside attracted her eye, however, leading her out of her thoughts rather abruptly. In the alleyway below were a pair of men confronting one another in the pouring deluge. Opening the double doors, she ignored Irvine's questions as she walked out in the rain to peer down. After a moment, she felt his presence beside her, ignoring the fact that he smelled of old leather, gunpowder and newfallen rain. That just wasn't something she wanted clouding her senses, especially as the scene below unfolded before them. The steady sheet of precipitation masked the pair below, their raingear making it nearly impossible to discern anything about either individual. They appeared to be in the midst of a struggle, grasping for a brown briefcase clasped in the smaller man's hand. There was a scream as a firearm fired and that was when Quistis realized Irvine was no longer standing beside her, he'd jumped down, shotgun in hand to take care of the situation personally. "Kinneas, no!" she shouted uselessly, cursing the brash youth for his impetuousness. They had a mission, dammit, and he was putting it in jeopardy with this. Still, she knew his soft heart simply wouldn't allow him to sit back as some innocent was slaughtered in front of him. Dashing back into the room, she grabbed for her own weapon, praying nothing would happen to Irvine before she was able to join him. To be Continued.... NExT...