Quistis hadn't known that she had such a talent for deception. Sometimes, during the weeks between her students' mission trial and Squall and Rinoa's wedding, she wondered grimly if she should give up her position in Garden and join an acting troupe.

She had begged leave of Cid, explaining that she wanted to focus all of her attention on helping Selphie with the wedding preparations. This was partly true. But the main reason she wanted leave was that her emotions were one big complicated snarl, and she didn't feel comfortable with the idea of teaching or leading missions in such a state. Cid had agreed happily, and Selphie was downright ecstatic to be offered such competent assistance.

She focused all of her will in public on acting normal, and was surprised at how well she succeeded. She burst into laughter with the others when Squall had protested against several grandiose themes for the wedding.

"It's just a formality," he had said in the cafeteria one afternoon, "to keep the public and our parents happy. It's not important, and there's no need for a seven foot tall winged-lion cake." But Rinoa had told them the story of the proposal, and everyone chuckled good-naturedly at his indifferent words. They knew better. Still, Selphie had abandoned the flying lion cake idea.

In private, Quistis railed at herself silently, trying to force her rebellious emotions to behave. She did not allow herself to cry, not after that one disastrous night, the night of the mission trial. She didn't want puffy red eyes to betray her during the day.

She rose silently from her cold bed in the evenings to answer Seifer's taps at her door. She never called him and certainly never sought him at his quarters. But he sought her out, wanting to practice more evenings than not. She never refused him. And she smiled at him, and kept conversation light. It wasn't too trying; they had never been talkative with each other in the first place, especially when sparring. Once back in her room, the pleasant expression she habitually wore in public dropped from her face as soon as the door was shut behind her, and she returned to her bed as silently as she had left it.

Seifer positively glowed after the mission trial. He had always exuded confidence; now that he was truly successful, he shone like the sun. Or maybe it was just her imagination. She didn't want to think about it. She felt burned when she looked at him, anyway.

She felt both longing and relief when he was sent on his first mission. She was free of him for three days. Three days without him tapping at her door, without his searing gaze on her. Three days without the sun. She wanted to die. She couldn't tell any of her friends; they would look at her with horror. On the second day, she felt like she was going mad, and went to Fujin's quarters, not entirely sure what her intentions were.

She knocked, and the slim young woman answered the door. She stood there for a moment, hesitantly, and asked, "Where's Raijin?"

Fujin shrugged. "Out," she said, and gestured Quistis inside.

She had been planning to ask Fujin if she wanted to go practice, but the concerned expression on the platinum haired woman's face as she tilted her head toward Quistis melted her defenses. She sat down on the neatly made bed and put her face in her hands, frightened at the thought of what she might say.

"Oh, Fujin, I'm sorry. I don't want to bring this to you, but I can't," and here she couldn't go on for a moment, had to pause and collect herself. "I can't tell them. It would disgust them. You know how they feel about him. They think he's...tainted." She wondered if she felt the same way. She knew she didn't. His tears, his confession, had washed away all transgressions.

She felt Fujin sit down on the bed next to her, felt slim arms circle her, tiny hands stroke her hair. She wondered what Fujin thought, where the sneering fierce young woman had gone. She had been washed clean, too.

"I don't know what to do," she said dully.

"Cry," Fujin suggested, and Quistis did, crying into the soft black leather of Seifer's gratitude, accepting comfort from the last person she would have thought of.

After that night, she didn't have so much trouble acting normal. During the day. At night she still struggled, struggled to forget that she loved him, struggled to sleep. But she did feel better, the sharp pain in her chest dwindled slowly to a dull ache as the days passed. By the day of the wedding, she almost felt normal.

The morning of the wedding dawned blue and clear. It looked to be a gorgeous day. Selphie, Ezaine, Rinoa and Quistis all gathered in Rinoa's quarters to prepare. Quistis had been appointed maid of honor, much to her dismay. The others would be bridesmaids. All would be clad in soft blue silk gowns, hastily made but nevertheless gorgeous by Ma Dincht. Mrs. Dincht was also doing their hair and makeup, having been highly recommended for both responsibilities by Ezaine.

She had been working on Rinoa when Quistis arrived, fresh from the shower and carrying her own gown in a plastic protector. Rinoa's gown was white, of course, and so cleverly done that Quistis was astonished. Feathers were embroidered over the back of it, white embroidery on white, giving a subtle and shifting impression of wings. She looked pale and ethereal, liquid eyes shining, an angel in truth.

Quistis gazed at her, amazed by her beauty, and felt a sudden rush of love for her. She put her dress on in the private bathroom and was gently maneuvered into a chair as soon as she returned by Mrs. Dincht, who said "Hmm..." at frequent intervals and did mystifying things to her hair and face.

When she was released, Selphie dragged her to a mirror. And she couldn't hold back a gasp. The woman in the mirror was gorgeous, blue eyes enhanced somehow, golden hair twisted on top of her head. She turned an awed gaze onto Mrs. Dincht, who smiled and pointed at Selphie. Quistis went to sit down by Rinoa, and took her hand. Rinoa squeezed gently and smiled at her.

They finished right on schedule, only taking a few moments to relax before Irvine knocked on the door with the flowers. He had taken the Ragnorak to the orphanage and picked them himself. He looked very handsome in his dress uniform, and very tall. When he saw the girls, his mouth dropped open and the room exploded into laughter.

"My lucky day," he said, and stared, awestruck, at Selphie. She actually blushed. Then he strode up to her and bent, kissing her soundly. Finally they broke apart, eyes flashing, and Irvine handed out the flowers. "About time we headed down there, hey? We're about ready to start. The whole world is waiting for you."

So they went.

The ceremony was a simple one, even with such an impressive crowd. It was held outside in the bright sunlight, wind tugging playfully at gowns and hair. There would never have been room in the Garden for all those who wished to attend. Quistis found herself near tears several times as the couple exchanged their vows. Squall, for all his casual dismissals earlier, was touchingly nervous throughout the entire ceremony. He trembled as he slipped the gold band onto Rinoa's finger, and Quistis was shocked to see tears standing in his eyes. For her part, Rinoa looked calm, and radiantly happy. Either the bride or the groom always cries at a wedding. I never would have guessed Squall, she thought, holding back her own tears.

Afterward, she could never remember that day clearly. The ceremony, the fantastic dinner that followed it, the ball in the twilight hours, they all blurred together in one ball of bittersweet emotion. She felt a sublime ecstasy that two people she cared about loved each other so much, and a deep ache as she acknowledged that this would probably never happen for her. She was too independent. And oh yes, she also always chose the wrong man.

But as she danced with her friends later that evening, she felt the last pain lifting from her heart, dissipating completely. She danced with Irvine, laughing up at him as he gave her the most outrageous compliments his devious mind could come up with. She danced with Zell, who could barely restrain his happiness and threatened to whirl her so fast that she had to beg him to stop, laughing helplessly. And she danced with Squall, and whispered to him how happy she was for him. He smiled gently and whispered back that his uniform itched. She laughed; either he was just a little drunk or he had been making a joke. She even danced with Rinoa and Selphie, both at once, arms flung around each other in a circle. They twirled, kicked up their skirts, and laughed until they couldn't laugh any more.

She laughed so much that she needed a drink. She made her way to a waiter and demanded a glass of champagne. The waiter obliged, bowing deeply. Quistis sipped her drink and gazed over the dancers. She felt completely at peace. She had just finished her first and was contemplating a second when Seifer, clad yet again in his dress uniform, joined her. He took her empty glass and deposited it on the table beside him.

"Dance?" he said, and took her arm. She looked at him and realized suddenly that it didn't hurt. She loved him, yes, but it didn't matter. Not today. She smiled and allowed him to escort her back onto the ballroom floor.

They danced, bare hands clasped, his arm at her waist. She did her best not to tremble.

"You weren't always this confident," he murmured, looking down at her.

She looked up at him, confused.

"Before Time Compression." He sighed. "I know it's long past the appropriate time, but I want to apologize for what I said. Calling you mediocre."

She frowned. "I was, though."

"Not any more." And they danced on in silence for a few more moments.

She continued. "We won. We beat her. And after all that worry, it wasn't even very hard. After, I felt...if I could beat Ultimecia, I could do anything. Stand anything."

"Good," he said, and kissed her. Distantly she heard Zell's gasp, and she removed her hand from his, not sure whether she intended to push him away or pull him closer. His arms slid around her then, and it was too late. She surrendered completely and leaned into his embrace.

Finally, he released her, looking down at her steadily. She stared up at him, wide-eyed, and knew that her face was red. Her lips felt scorched.

"Let's go," he said, and she realized that he was holding her hand, leading her out of the crowded room. She was too stunned to resist. Just once, she thought. Just once, and I'll remember it my whole life.

As soon as they were in the corridor, he drew her to him and kissed the top of her head. He murmured something into her hair; she didn't catch it. It might have been her name. Then he bent and scooped her up gently, so gently, and strode to her quarters.

And after, their bodies still twined, moonlight gleaming softly on skin, he whispered, "This is what it was like."

~fin~

 

On this most voluptuous night of the year
the term of the moon is yellow with no light.
The air's soft, the night bird has
only one note, the cherry tree in bloom
makes a blurr on the woods, its
perfume no more than half guessed moves of the mind.
No insect is yet awake, leaves are few.
In the arching trees there is no sleep.
The blood is still and indifferent, the face
does not ache nor sweat soil nor the
mouth thirst. Now love might enjoy its play
and nothing disturb the full octave of its run.
William Carlos Williams, Paterson