"Let me out, let me out please!" shrieked Zell, pounding like a madman on the door. Even with his new combat gloves, he couldn't force it open.

Not with Seifer leaning oh-so-coolly on the other side, anyway.

"Now see?" said Seifer, his voice dripping with false friendliness. "I told you what would happen, now didn't I? I said, 'tell Squall to meet me in the Training Center at four thirty, or I'll make you regret it.' Didn't I say that? And now here it is, past five and no sign of the twit. I'm just keeping my promises, Chicken-Wuss."

Zell was beginning to reach panic. The closet was small and there was no way to force the door open from the inside, and it was dark. "I couldn't find him, Seifer!" he yelled, trying to hide his fear. "You know he goes off and does stuff on his own - I tried, I did...let me out please!" and there was no hiding the genuine pleading in his voice.

"Hmm," came Seifer's dry response on the other side. "I suppose it's against regulations to punish you for the fuckups of another cadet, isn't it," he said speculatively, and to Zell's almost tearful relief the door opened. He wasted not a single second in bounding out of there.

"Doesn't mean you don't need a little lesson in manners yourself, though, twerp," he finished.

Zell hated being short. Seifer loomed over him like a building support, not to mention the fact that it meant he could fit into uncomfortable places like supply cupboards. "Me?" he said, too quickly. "What'd I do?"

Seifer's cat-green eyes narrowed. "I didn't hear a single 'sir' out of you," he said menacingly. "Nor an ounce of respect for my posse, the rest of the Disciplinary Committee. Ve-ry rude of you."

Zell had always had a big mouth, and when he was genuinely scared it only got worse. The words, "What, Madame OneWord and Mister YaKnow? Yeah sure Seifer, y'all got scads of respect from me," came out before the mental censors could remind him that they outnumbered him three to one. When they did, he had to fight the urge not to clap his hands over his mouth. Instead he let panic give wings to his heels, and tried to run past them, out of the Training Center.

Back where there were security cameras, that would keep Seifer from getting too enthusiastic. Assuming, of course, that he hadn't arranged for them to malfunction.

A pity he never made it so far. Raijin threw his bo staff in a spinning motion that knocked Zell off of his madly pumping feet, and the posse caught up to him.

To his credit, he fought well enough that they couldn't put him in the Infirmary before they had to back off. But only barely. When the posse finally left him to lick its own wounds (he did have his specialization going for him; the only one of the posse who could use his weapon against him was Raijin), Zell was sporting a mass of bruises all over his face and upper body, and what felt like a cracked rib or two.

That was it. Those three were just gonna make his life hell until he quit. He came to Garden to learn to fight, and he liked to fight - but he didn't like the idea of all his instruction in the art taking place via so many practicals.

Seifer tried to make Zell feel like it was Squall's fault he got beaten up. Like today - demanding Zell 'deliver' his roommate to a particular location at a particular time, and nominally getting beaten up because of it. Zell figured he knew better. It was just Seifer's way of getting an excuse to fight. Had Zell done as ordered, he was pretty sure Seifer would've found a reason to fight anyway. Seifer didn't just like to fight - he liked to hurt. He liked to cause hurt. Zell was perfectly happy to subdue rather than kill. For him the fight was an end in itself, a competition in an equalized ring of combat. You didn't kick them once they were down - what was the point? Next time it might be you on the ground.

He had to admit that was a viewpoint his moody roommate had given him. He coughed experimentally, testing his ribs. Zell had not been quite so merciful in Balamb. Maybe it was just that fights here were so much more real - you got to appreciate small mercies, the mercenary's sense of honor. Street fights in Balamb had none of that. Seifer would be right at home there.

But Zell had come here, to Balamb, because those street fights hadn't been enough. He'd won most of them, kicked when his enemies were down or up, fought till they knocked him cold. That was the way. Here, there was so much fighting going on that you got into the habit of unofficial endings where both sides said 'enough'.

Zell shook his head. He was losing it. Stupid mercenary honor was getting him whipped by Seifer. Regularly. He might almost just paint 'Seifer's punching bag' on his forehead and have done with it.

He needed to get his fighting spirit back. He needed to remember what it was to get into a fight where damnit, you WON or you LOST. And if you LOST, you bloody well knew it. Not this constant nitpicking by the posse, just wearing you down bit by bit and no real victory ever possible.

Zell's face set; so be it. Wearing his manifold bruises like warpaint, his rumpled cadet's uniform like a badge of honor, Zell strode out of the Training Center hallway.

All the way around the Ringway.

And out the gates of the Garden.

Screw the mercenary's honor. He'd take his chance with the bloody monsters.

* * * * * * * *

Squall's first hint that something had changed came when he returned from combat practice in the Quad. Generally speaking, Zell couldn't handle silence - his stereo was always blaring at a volume just below the point that would merit attention by the Disciplinary Committee. Squall now knew any number of punk-rock songs and bands by heart, and loathed just about every one of them.

But that night - for Squall typically trained until ten or eleven at night - the room was silent. For the very simple and obvious reason that Zell wasn't in it. He spared a frown for the change; his first thought was that perhaps Zell had moved out, the way all the roommates before him had. A quick glance around the room dismissed that possibility, though - his clothes were still hung over his bunk, his combat magazines were still scattered over his shelves, and there was an open study book on his desk.

Squall blinked; something wasn't right, but he was too tired to work out what it might be. He didn't stop training until he was too tired to control the gunblade, so most of his thought processes were currently lost in a fog that kept whispering tantalizingly about sleep. And his bunk, at long last, was in sight. He had just enough coordination left to shuck out of his sweat-soaked uniform before falling face-first onto his mattress.

He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

* * * * * * * *

That first night was the hardest. Zell had half-expected pursuit - by whom he didn't know - and was very surprised when none seemed to materialize. Maybe Seifer would decide he hadn't had enough, and come out here with the gunblade he couldn't use properly within Garden's halls. Maybe some instructor would note that he didn't show up for afternoon class, and send someone out. Maybe Squall would notice he wasn't in, and come looking.

Hah. Once he thought it out, he realized it would be a while before anyone came after him. Seifer had his own wounds to lick, and probably would spend the rest of the day either healing up or hunting Squall or both. Instructors didn't mind if you missed a class or two, because cadets were always getting into scuffles and needing time to heal. And Squall wouldn't know a damn thing until late into the night at the earliest. Zell had pretty much taken over the dorm room, simply by virtue of being in it more often. For a moment Zell tried to picture Squall following him, and then gave up. It was easier to picture Squall in a pink fluffy tutu, than to picture the dour boy getting concerned over his roommate's welfare. He'd assume Zell could take care of himself, until such time as he proved he couldn't.

He couldn't stay out here, though. So...where to go? Not to Balamb town, for sure. With Ma there, that'd be the first place anyone would look - and he couldn't stand the idea of telling Ma he couldn't cut it at Garden. Not here, or in the woods. Too open here, and the woods held T-Rexaurs.

There were mountains off to the east, though. Not far at all. And in them, caves.

Perfect.

Zell started off at a steady running pace for the caverns.

* * * * * * * *

The next day, Squall awoke in silence. He couldn't believe it at first, in the pleasant haze of the newly awakened. Many days of being startled awake by blaring punk music had trained him against jerking in surprise, so that now his only obvious reaction to the sudden noise was to have his eyes go from closed to wide-open in .0003 seconds.

The silence was indeed golden. He stretched and sat up, pushing rumpled bangs out of his eyes to check the clock. Five a.m., which was the right time to be up...but no noise. He glanced over at Zell's bunk, and noticed no change. So the punk hadn't gone to bed later and gotten up earlier, which he did occasionally do. Perhaps he'd found a girl again - that did happen on occasion.

Well, whatever it was going on, Zell hadn't decided to include him. Which was fine; it meant he might actually get some work done today. He went through the morning routine of getting presentable and awake, and headed for class.

* * * * * * * *

The Fire Caverns were a great deal larger than anyone had ever told him, that was certain. Zell fought the monsters here with ease, punching and kicking his way through them almost gleefully. The really wonderful thing about the place was you didn't have to worry about cooking your food, even if you didn't have a junction handy. You just set your dinner down near one of the lava pits and came back when it was done. Red bats weren't very large, or very tasty, but six or seven of them made a decent enough meal. Once fed, Zell opted to explore.

That was when he found out the caverns weren't all lava. Climbing up one of the walls to get to a bats' cave, he came instead across a very cool breeze - quite welcome in the heat of the fire caverns. Another beautiful thing about it was that the entrance was too small for someone of Seifer's build to come through. He might be able to send Fujin after him, but he wouldn't be able to come himself. He entered the little corridor, and four feet later slid down a shaft of ice. At the other end was a frozen lake. Ice caverns, next to fire caverns?

There were no monsters here, not even the little red bats. It would make a decent place to sleep, he supposed. And he could probably climb out of the shaft he came in by, even with the ice. The air was clear and cold and puffed into crystallized clouds every time he breathed out. Near the ice shaft it was warmer - just below freezing. Farther in...Zell didn't really want to go farther in. It was summer outside, and his cadet uniform wasn't all that thick. But he had nothing else on his schedule for the day, so he carefully began plans to explore.

* * * * * * * *

Squall gave up pretending nothing was amiss at around the fifth period. Fifth period was hand-to-hand, a course Zell adored and shared with Squall. The only time he missed that class had been when he was put on enforced bed rest after catching a bad case of the flu. Listening carefully to the conversations around him, Squall got the impression that no one else knew where Zell was, either. He worked his way through the assigned kata, and when the class was over he headed for the Infirmary.

"No, he hasn't been here," said Kadowaki thoughtfully. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Fifth period, yesterday," said Squall calmly. "He didn't come back to the room last night, either."

Kadowaki studied Squall carefully. There was nothing in his stance or voice to indicate anything beyond mild curiosity as to Zell's current whereabouts, but she knew Squall better than that. He was worried, or at least concerned, or he would not have come here. But she had nothing to offer him. "He hasn't called in sick, Squall," she said. "I'll clear it with the Headmaster if you want to go looking for him."

Now she had Squall's attention - he studied her carefully for a few seconds, as though it hadn't occurred to him to look farther than the Infirmary. Then he gave her one quick nod and left.

He hadn't come down with something, and his friends didn't know where he was so he hadn't stayed with some female cadet. That left just one option. Squall returned to his room and lifted the Revolver out of its case. Seifer would be in the Training Center. If he made himself visible, and Seifer had answers, that would be the way to get them. Checking to make sure the Revolver's chambers were fully loaded, and the blade sharp, Squall slung the gunblade over his shoulder and headed for the Training Center.

* * * * * * * *

Something was alive in the frozen caverns. Zell could sense it, running like a shiver across his bare forearms. What he couldn't do was place it. No breath of wind indicated movement, no scent of beast-fur or fang, no sound of claws or pads or flapping wings. Nothing.

And yet, something was most assuredly here. Almost, but not quite, touching him. Almost, but not quite, whispering to him.

"Who's there?" he called, and heard the nervousness in his own voice. With friends, he was all bravado - when there were people with him he could take on anyone. But not alone. Zell needed people to draw strength from, draw courage from.

Draw your strength from me, came the whisper, delicate as frost on a January morning.

He was almost positive he hadn't heard that with his ears. But as it spoke coherently, and as he didn't have anything to lose, he pulled himself together and started searching for its source.

It was getting colder. He rubbed his fingers together, rubbed his arms to get the feeling back, and kept searching.

* * * * * * * *

Squall swung the Revolver in a down-left diagonal cut. Two Grat tentacles dropped to the floor. An overhead chop, and the creature's bulbous gas-bag of a body was punctured. It let out a keening whistle as it died.

Applause, a dry golf clap, came from around the bend. "Nice, Leonhart. Though Grats don't really count, you know."

Squall stood up, slung the Revolver over his shoulder, acknowledged his rival with a nod. "Seifer," he said flatly - in a tone that said 'as if my day wasn't wonderful enough, now there's morons like you.'.

Seifer was, Squall knew, no moron. And he proved it by picking up on the tone, cat-green eyes narrowing. "Not pleased to see me? But you did get my message, I see."

Message? thought Squall. What the hell's he talking about? But he didn't say anything. Seifer would never tell Squall what he wanted to know if Squall was so unsubtle as to ask him. Instead he said, "I'm here." Blatantly, moronically obvious - and useful. It could mean just about anything.

"Then let's get started," grinned Seifer, and drew the Hyperion.

Of course. He wanted to duel again. That must be what the 'message' was for. Squall's eyes narrowed. And I can guess who he was using as a 'messenger'. Damnit!

The fight was over quickly. Squall had been in the Training Center for over an hour, waiting for Seifer, and was newer to the gunblade's ways on top of it. Seifer's one-handed style allowed him far greater freedom than Squall could use with his clunky two-handed Revolver, and he was swiftly beaten.

He took note of the move that had disarmed him, though. He would not fall for that trick again.

In the meantime, though, Seifer held the Hyperion's tip to Squall's throat and gloated a bit, then cheerfully sheathed his gunblade and went off on his merry way.

Squall just shook his head. Seifer didn't realize he was handing Squall the keys to his own eventual defeat. Squall had lost, but he was learning to see patterns in Hyperion's movements - patterns that resulted from Seifer's own overconfidence. Seifer had not yet noticed that no move ever worked twice against his shorter rival.

In the meantime, Squall now had pieces to a different puzzle. So, Seifer had tried to use Zell as a messenger boy, hm? And then Zell disappeared - not even Seifer the wiser. Not in the dorms, not in the classes, not in the Infirmary and most certainly not here.

That only left outside. Zell had left the Garden.

Squall picked himself up and brushed the dirt from his uniform, and slung the Revolver over his shoulder as he walked stiffly out of the Training Center. Any observer might almost - almost - have thought he was angry.

* * * * * * * *

It was freezing in here. Zell had found a long corridor that should have been completely dark, but wasn't. A pale blue glow shone along the ice walls, beautiful and indirect and cold. Everything was cold here, not surprisingly. The whispers grew louder as he walked along it, watching his breath crystallize into fog.

Draw strength from me. Draw courage from me.

He wasn't entirely trusting of strange ethereal voices that just happened to drop into his head without so much as a by-your-leave, though. He hadn't heard of a monster with telepathic capabilities, but that didn't mean there wasn't one. He'd only been at Garden for less than a year, after all. There were plenty more classes to get through.

He reached the end of the corridor. It ended in a solid wall of ice, pale blue light glowing from it. His breath was turning to snow as he breathed - he couldn't stay here long. But before he ran back to the warmer reaches, he wanted to find out what had spoken to him. He used the sides of his palms - the parts protected by his cestus gloves - to scrape away the outer layer of frost on the ice wall.

Encased in ice so clear as to be crystal, there floated a blue skinned woman of literally divine proportions. Zell, who had cheerfully lost his virginity to a willing female cadet some months earlier, found himself breathless.

Free me, and I am yours. I will give you strength. I will give you courage. It is time to awaken.

"What the hell d'you mean, 'it is time to awaken'? Who the hell are you?" The girl was beautiful, all right, but women who could poke around inside his head weren't women he was highly inclined to sleep with.

I am ancient and powerful. I wait only for the apocalypse. Free me and we will avert it.

Zell stared. "Um, if you're so powerful, how come you're trapped and need me to free you?"

The woman's eyes began to glow. Do not be a fool. The test is not for me, it is for you. Without me you will soon die. With me you can do whatever you want. But it is not my place to command. I am a guardian, not a master.

"Guardian..." said Zell wonderingly, then comprehension sank in. "Guardian! Guardian Force!" His very own Guardian Force! Squall had found the only one the Garden had, apparently when he was only six years old. Zell began punching at the ice for all he was worth. If Squall could do it, so could he - and the idea of a woman like that in his mind sounded a lot better than that shockwave bird of Squall's.

Once enough of her body was freed from the ice, the woman draped slender arms over Zell's shoulders. "I am Shiva," she said aloud, in a voice like the cracking of glaciers. "I have waited a thousand years for you." Glowing eyes stared into Zell's own - blue matching blue, and the cold entered every part of his body.

His heartbeat slowed to a crawl and he fell unconscious to the ice-slicked cavern floor, barely breathing.

* * * * * * * *

Squall swiped at another bite bug, furious with himself.

Why am I going after him? he demanded of himself. It's not like he can't take care of himself. If just fighting Seifer makes him run away maybe it's better for him to not be at Garden. He can go back to his precious Ma and do something else with his life.

But he was fighting Seifer because of me. Because I didn't get between them like I promised I would. Damnit! He swung again, slicing the bite bug's wings clean off. He was uncomfortably aware that his words had the ring of excuses.

Fine. I admit it. The hyperactive punk's gotten to me. He pulled the trigger, blowing another bite bug apart. With my usual talent for finding the least suitable object to fix my sights on. He sighed, and re-sheathed his gunblade, and looked around. Zell wouldn't have gone home. Not with Seifer's usual taunt of 'crybaby' and 'chicken-wuss' ringing in his ears. Not on the plains, too easily seen. His eyes rested on the caverns and he nodded to himself. Yes - that would be where he would go. Zell liked 'homey' places - with walls and ceilings and entrances. The caverns at least roughly approximated that.

He searched the caverns thoroughly and came up empty - only spotting the high tunnel on the second trip through. Trust Zell to play spy-in-the-tree really, really well. Checking to make sure the Revolver was firmly holstered and latched in place, he started climbing.

He found Zell two hours later, pale and still on the floor of the cavern. He didn't even think about it, but simply grunted as he picked his roommate up and stepped carefully to get him out. The ice slide he got past by using his gunblade as an ice pick, leveraging himself upward as he hauled Zell behind him - Squall's legs looped under Zell's armpits, so that the unconscious boy was using Squall's backside as a pillow. Under other circumstances, perhaps a position Squall would not have objected to - but right now he just knew his muscles would hate him for days. But there were no other options. Zell was alive, if only barely, but he needed heat. Heat was on the other side of this goddamned motherfucking ice slide, so that was where Squall would take him.

He draped Zell's arms around his neck for the last part - the climb down the fire cavern wall. One gloved hand always made sure Zell was secure before any move was made.

I am not telling him how I got him out of there, Squall promised himself as he finally lowered Zell to the ground in the sweltering heat of the Fire Cavern. I think I've sacrificed enough pride for him for one day. He tapped Zell's cheeks lightly with gloved fingertips, checking to see whether the heat was having any effect. The haul up the slide and down the wall had been no picnic, and if he had to haul Zell all the way back to the Infirmary he'd better know now. He might have a soft spot for the punk, but it was rapidly descending into volumes of sheer annoyance at the pain he was putting himself through for it.

Zell blinked, stared puzzled at Squall. "What're you doing here?" he mumbled. Then he sat up, rubbed his arms as if they were cold.

"Looking for you," said Squall coolly, his mask firmly in place. "You up to going back to Garden?"

"Yeah," said Zell, unusually quiet. Then he grinned, pure evil glee. "Yeah, I think so."

Squall watched him carefully. "What happened to you in the ice cave?"

Zell's grin didn't fade. "You'll see."

Squall just shrugged. "Let's get out of here."

He did see, in the very first fight with the ever present bite bugs. Zell had always been a hothead in combat, taking on more than he could handle and paying the price. He had the talent, but not the patience or control. Now, something had changed. He was perfectly cool in a fight, every move smooth as water, concentration complete and unwavering. He'd been good for his age before - now he was great. It wasn't a change in knowledge. It was a change in how it was applied. Squall asked again what happened in the cave.

This time, Zell shrugged. "I found a GF," he said. "Ice elemental, she says her name's Shiva. She's old, Squall. Really, really old."

Squall shook his head, almost sadly. "They'll take it away from you when we get back to Garden," he said. "Like they took Quezacotl from me. They'll want everyone to have access to it."

Zell just tapped the side of his head. "Doesn't matter, Squall," he said with absolute surety. "Shiva called me. She'll come back to me when I need her." He looked at his roommate with understanding. "Just like your Thunderbird comes back to you."

Squall turned his back and led the way back to Garden, refusing to answer with eyes or voice.

Zell strolled along behind, cool as ice.