A/N: Aren't I a bad one? Making you wait so long...shame, shame on me! My life is one big hellhole, so finding time to write this as I dance in flames is a little difficult. No matter, here is the sixth installment!

Disastrous Behavior: Part 6

He was in a terrible state of mind. There wasn't a thing he could concentrate on other than her. That woman. Now his personal feelings, his issues were avidly interfering with what was most important. Apparently, no matter how hard he tried, it didn't seem to be the most important thing on his mind anymore.

Retreating to the silence his office could bring, he dove into a Commanders' world of files, contracts, and other documentation that required his attention. There was a faint chill in the air, but Squall was sweating. His mind wouldn't stop reeling, wouldn't stop thinking. Stop thinking of her. How was it possible one woman, one pill could turn his world upside down from the atmosphere he had previously become so utterly accustomed to?

These contracts...they needed to be read through and required a signature. They should be his priority. SeeD should be his priority.

But as his eyes skimmed through the text, and his brain attempted to process them, only one person flowed through his mind. Damn her.

Lifting his ink pen and tapping his foot impatiently against the plastic mat beneath his gray office chair, he began to write upon the dotted line.

'Did you regret what happened?'

'Not Everything.'

A sigh escaped his pale pink lips as he flipped to the next contract devoid of his penned markings.

'That was inexcusable...'

'But you wanted it...and more.'

'Not here.'

Squall frowned ever so deeply at the not so distant memory of his close...too close encounter. It was only a few hours it had even occurred when he was nearly molested in the Garden elevator. She accomplished the feat in causing his cold blood to boil, his mouth to water in hunger, and his lust to reach new heights he never new existed; the danger excited him, even if briefly, possibly enough to engage in further risqué behavior...with her. This just couldn't happen.

The pen tightened in his grip as he forced all thoughts to be banished from his head, his skin turning a ghostly white from the pressure. Concentration was required...and that's when he noticed something terribly wrong with the documents...

His eyes flew wide as he flipped through each page to find one name written on every line, corner, and crevice:

Quistis Trepe.

Everywhere; on every single page that name existed. She was poison from the inside out, like an infectious cancer that spread to each and every one of his cells. The cure was unknown, or dear Hyne, what if there was no cure?

Almost in a panic, the dropped the pen and rummaged through his many drawers for white-out, tape, anything to cover the mess he'd made with a woman's name. No trace of this name could be found. He was utterly desperate, his fingers shaking as he searched in vain. There was nothing. The damage was done and there was no repairing.

Too frustrated to bother with hiding each monstrosity, he shoved each marked parchment into one of the overstuffed drawers and threw his head upon the cluttered desk top.

How could he have been so foolish; foolish enough to allow his sexual desires to get the best of him? Magnified as it was by the illegal substance, he should have been strong enough to resist its tempting potency.

Sure Leonhart, blame it on the drug and not on your confused heart. Because that was the problem; he just might be falling. Falling so hard, so fast, nothing could break the fall. For a woman, he'd never believed in all his years, he might actually fall in love with. Once upon a time ago they were the same, but different. Now, the differences had increased, but the attraction of opposites drew the magnetic forces together with powerful intensity.

No Leonhart. Not love—lust. That was all...that had to be.

Knocking. Who in the hell? His head lifted from the wooden desk, his eyes firmly placed on the clean contract before him even though his concentration was far from it.

"Come in," he called out sternly, scooping up his earlier discarded writing utensil and gently tapping it against the edge of the table in an irritable fashion.

Rinoa timidly peeked through the slightly ajar door before slipping through completely. She attempted a cheerful expression, which faded instantly as soon as she noted the Commanders' current disposition. He didn't even glance her way as she entered.

"Hey Squall..." She greeted as she gently pushed the door closed. The moment it shut, the air grew disturbingly thick and tense.

Everyone knew it was an awful idea to interrupt Leonhart once he was locked in his office. Easily placed into a foul mood, it was best to let him have his peace. Even Rinoa never bothered him unless what she had to say was urgent—this night, it was. At least to her.

Squall barely gave her any recognition as she spoke, his face completely blank as he continued to stare intently at the parchment in front of him. However, internally he dreaded anything further to come from her mouth.

"Evening..." he replied quietly, a frown finally coming to his features.

Heartilly could hardly contain the immense displeasure and distress she felt from his sudden change, "I wanted to let you know," she held her hands behind her back as she approached his desk, "I'll be leaving for Timber. I figured it's time for me to check on things there. You know, maybe volunteer to help with some reconstruction here and there."

Her lover nodded. At first, she suspected he hadn't listened to a word she'd spoken until he himself made an inquiry, although the concern in his voice was lacking drastically, "When are you leaving?"

The Sorceress frowned sadly. It was like he didn't care. "...Tomorrow morning. I used my spare key to your room to get a few things out of there that I needed." Her tone was the definition of deadpan.

Squall cringed a little by the tone, but it subsided just as quickly as it had arrived. Maybe her absence would provide him with some relief. Perhaps then, he could convince himself to miss her. He nodded in reply, a new set of thoughts encompassing his mind...that trailed right back to Quistis...

This was painful. Did he care at all? If he didn't want her, why couldn't he just say it? She was resolved in receiving some kind of reaction from the loner; something other than total apathy.

"Squall..." her voice was almost pleading, but with her next set of words while placing her palms upon the desktop, leaning forward as she burned holes into his forehead, her tone was disturbingly demanding. "Make love to me."

If Squall could have possibly thought of a reply, he wasn't sure if his lips would have been capable of moving at that particular moment. His grip was ever so tight upon his ebony pen, his eyes narrowed. The boy was petrified. Petrified, because this was supposed to be his girlfriend, but it wasn't her he had been fantasizing about ever since she set foot in his office. It wasn't her that suddenly flashed into his mind, laid across his desk as she gave into the throes of passion and accepted each thrust he bestowed, "W-what?" His eyes never fled from the document.

"Right here and now," It was spoken with such calm authority that no one else would have thought to object.

"I can't...I-I have...not here." Dear Hyne, it sounded like he was panicking.

The Sorceress' eyes turned dangerously dark. She couldn't take the neglect, the denial, the pain from this man any longer. He didn't even have the decency to look her in the eyes. She threw herself from the desk, pointing a trembling finger at the Commander, a mixture of anger and agony engulfing her features.

"This is why I'm leaving!" She bellowed with such fury, it even surprised Squall. He forced himself to look at her, but he just couldn't look at her eyes. "You act like you don't care about me, like I don't even matter anymore! I know you're stressed, and you hurt, but so do I! I'm giving you three days, Leonhart...three days to re-evaluate us. What we could be..." Tears began to glisten around her irises, and she was unashamed to show them, "You decide whether you love me enough to try again." With a heart crushed to dust, she departed the silent office, the slam in her wake echoing through it's entirety as the paralyzed Squall moved not a muscle.

He hurt her. He cared, but perhaps not like he should, not enough to count. Not like she wanted or what he was willing to give her anymore.

That wasn't acceptable. Squall had to care for her more, like the public wanted to see. SeeD were mercenaries, but he had to set an example. He had to keep things controlled and stable. This wasn't the way to go about it. Three days she said. In three days when she returned, he'd apologize, paint on a new face and continue the way they were before her...

"Dammit!" With the slam of a balled fist to the desk before him, he slammed his head upon it as well, throwing his arms over to block the probing light from his eyes. When had everything suddenly fallen apart? Was it the nightclub? No. Quistis didn't even have anything to do with it at first. It happened before that, and he knew it. Quistis and E was his scapegoat from the dilemma he was facing. It was up to the Commander to make it right, to find the best course of action and stick to the path ahead. That was why he was the Commander.

He just couldn't seem to command his own life.

What a mess.

It made him feel...

Groggy? Quickly lifting his head from the mild warmth of the table, he glanced as the digital numbers that seemed to jump out and bite him upon his first look.

10:12 pm.

So he'd fallen asleep. It hadn't even been a restful doze. However, he knew it was time to depart, for absolutely nothing was getting accomplished in this room; not even his careful brooding was making much sense to his perplexing mind.

Standing from his swivel chair, he snatched his keys from the desktop with one hand, and his jacket with the other. Leaving the office in haste, he suddenly staggered, the grip of sleep reminding him of his exhaustion. It wouldn't be long now before he was enveloped in his clean bed sheets, falling away from reality and into the world of dreams where his struggles would continue. Not even in slumber could he escape his manifesting troubles.

Reaching the doorknob, he slipped the metallic key into the slot with minor difficulty as everything became a slight blur. Mental and emotional exhaustion seemed to have the ability to drain you twice as fast as physical. Despite this bump in the road, he turned the key and pushed in-unsuccessful.

Internally swearing, he unlocked the door once again, marking his mental calendar for Rinoa's return so he could properly scold her about leaving his quarters unlocked. It wasn't like it wasn't the first time, so in fact, he scratched out that date realizing it would be a complete waste of time and energy. He just wanted to sleep, and be devoid of all thought for a night.

Stepping across the threshold, he immediately noticed the lights had not been switched off once the dark Sorceress departed his living space. That wasn't a first either.

Shutting the door gently behind him, he noticed movement in his peripheral that hovered indiscreetly by his made, but wrinkled queen bed. This was a first.

Snapping his head to the side to catch full sight of the stranger lurking his premises, his senses alert and on guard, he was surprised with only a bare touch of relief to find the figure familiar.

"I was wondering when you'd get here."

Leonhart's insides turned over and over again, burned and bubbled until the point where it was a struggle to remain on his feet. "Quistis...What in the hell are you doing in here?" There wasn't much authority to the tone, mainly curiosity as well as notable annoyance. However, this time, he was able to conceal something else that yearned to linger within his tone.

A sweet, seductive smile came to shine on her pretty lips that Squall found hard to resist. She was temptation itself. "Well, Rinoa as usual, left your door unlocked. I thought I would wait for you in here."

The Instructor was a good distance away for the time being, yet he knew the distance would be closed not before too long. He still had much to think about, much deliberation, and needed sleep desperately. Or so he thought, for once he spotted Quistis in her lime tube top and raven pleather pants that hug every itch of her legs like a second skin to her curvaceous figure, he was lost in the sea of lustful desire all over again. "You should go."

Crimson wasn't quite so easily deterred. And just as the Commander feared, she drew nearer toward him; her hips followed by his wandering eye that he'd meant to keep firmly placed at his boots. "I just want you to come out with me. Just a little while, huh?"

Just as she approached, he summoned enough willpower to dodge her effort to touch his arm and head toward a vacant chair across from his empty bed. He'd love to be in it right now, "No. I'm tired..." He couldn't bring himself to say anything further, his throat tightening as he forced himself to toss his jacket upon the cushion of the seat which missed its target entirely.

His words obviously weren't getting the hint across. Coming up behind him, she placed her hands to his slumped shoulders, and squeezed. "Baby, you're so tense. I suppose going out isn't the best solution. We can stay in here..."

Despite the well desired feeling her kneading fingers brought to his tight shoulder muscles, he couldn't allow himself to fall into her trap. This was wrong, and they both knew and were aware of every consequence neither could no longer risk. It was time to come out with the big guns. Easily shrugging her off, he turned to face her with a scowl, "So partying and pleasure are the only things important to you now? Since when did you become such a child?"

Clearly Crimson was shocked as well as angry by the inquiries intended to be attacks. Quistis felt shame, while Crimson only felt the need to retaliate, "Must you always hold back your carnal desires? It's not like I can't see it in your eyes, no matter how much you try to avoid me. There's a beast inside you, caged and cornered." Her fingertips found there way up his shirt, able to brush against his navel before he took a half step back away from her caress. "I can help you free it..."

The scowl never abandoned Leonharts' features. He was set on his objective, even though it felt as though cement had seeped from the crevices of the floor below and locked his feet in place. "I suppose that's what happened with you. I just think you went crazy."

This was the first time Crimson experienced true anger, and it was a fierce flame that was sparked, and rapidly spreading. It wasn't easily extinguished, "You're just afraid to release an unfamiliar side of yourself."

That stung. No matter how deep her words cut, or how true they may seem, he wouldn't give into her tactics. He'd be stronger than her—his future depended on it. He allowed his anger to surface instead; as long as he didn't look at her, he was fine... "And you're just a delusional girl whose maturity is rapidly digressing. I suppose we all have our problems." With that, he was able to turn away from her with his arms folded firmly as his chest. A defensive stance for what was to come.

"Digressing?" This fury was nearly irrepressible as her body tensed, forcing herself to step back. "Do you know what it's like being me?" This time, Crimson wasn't doing all of the talking... "Being an Instructor, being surrounded by supposed friends yet still feeling bitterly alone? Lacking the confidence, the self esteem needed to walk down a hallway without feeling self-conscious, never feeling a moment of contentment?" There was a sudden sadness woven in her tone that reached out and jerked at Squall's heart, causing him to flinch involuntarily, "And to suffer through months of life but unable to do or say anything, only listen?" She paused, awaiting some sort of reaction out of the confession she was spewing that evidently hadn't been planned. "I heard everything in that room, Squall, everything."

He couldn't help be feel some splinter of empathetic pain as she spoke, the words processing through his mind. "Then you know how much we cared."

The fury took over once more. "That's a bullshit lie and you know it!"

Finally, Leonhart turned to gaze at her with partially open blue-grey irises, arms still folded defensively as a guarded expression took hold of his visage. He wouldn't admit it, but this conversation was hurting him, and he didn't know how to address it any other way than ignore it. The initial intent of the discussion was to push her away, but he quickly realized he simply wasn't able to. "Then you're in denial."

"That's something we have in common, Commander," Crimson spat, her eyes narrowed dangerously, knowingly as he stared back at her with curiosity and as well quiet contemplation, "You deny your feelings for me, and after last night you can't lie to me and tell me they don't exist. After this afternoon, you can't deny it either. I know, and so do you or things would have never progressed, nothing would have ever happened! After those conversations you had with me in the hospital, unveiling every detail about your life, your relationships, and how much you needed me." He motioned to turn from her, yet she continued, her voice well above a normal conversing tone, "You don't admit it because you're afraid of it! Of change, Squall Leonhart is what you fear most. You stay with Rinoa because you and everyone else believed the two of you were meant for each other, that your bond was indestructible!" Again she paused, and his back was completely toward her, his head down. She wondered if he was listening anymore. "Did you ever think she was simply a lesson you needed to lean about love so you could move on...?"

A response, of any kind would have been sufficient. A slap, a cry, a roar of anger would have been enough. Anything! Yet he stood there, unmoving. Utterly still, like a stone statue incapable of such movement, of courtesy, of feeling, because there was no life in it. She feared that's what he'd be rendered to all over again. Crimson didn't care, but Quistis was mortified by the possibility. Yet Quistis Trepe was continuing to lose ground as Crimson's strength and domineering personality began to gain the upper hand in her internal struggle. "Fine. Don't accept the truth and live in misery."

He heard the brush of her garments as she turned to retreat. Something snapped within him through her words, something that deeply touched and affected him like he never thought she was capable of doing.

Squall was scared.

"Don't leave." The words astonished him as he spoke them, thick with emotion and intensity.

Crimson did as told, resuming her stiff composure as she stared at Squall with a heated glare—that instantly melted as eye contact was established.

"You're right," the Commander confessed quietly, forcing his monotonous pitch into play, and was barely successful with the results, "You're right about something—I am afraid. I'm afraid to look or touch you, in case I may lose my mind." He stopped, his throat constricting as part of him wished to make the confession, while the other screamed to keep his mouth shut. He felt as if he were going against his character; this woman was changing him into something he didn't recognize or understand. He wasn't completely sure if he was grateful or regretful. "I can't go back...but I can't leave...I can't abandon what I have become."

What she saw in his words was hope; total and unshielded hope. There was hope in the obliteration of one life, and the dawn of a new. There was no doubt within her foolish mind that she could make it happen.

Closing the distance between them, her body pressed against his like blood to wounds, she placed her hands to his waist. Visibly, he stiffened, but to his own utter dismay, he couldn't bring himself to turn away this time—he was caught in her web.

"Then I'll help you embrace it."

It was a downward spiral past this promise. What began as an intense lip-lock, turned into another night of unworldly passion that both players were floored to experience, yet also feared the repercussions of the following day. To bite their tongues and pretend their second secret life did not exist would be the biggest struggle either would have to face. Squall, because of his guilt, because of the fear of changing what he knew to be proper routine; and for Quistis, for losing control of herself and embracing another side that was all too dominating to be kept upon a close leash.

Their hushed cries of lustful release sounded well into the night, until a pair of glowing bodies entangled beneath the sheets were still, catching their tired breath as each contemplated to themselves without verbally conversing with their partner.

As much as Squall wished to remain true to his current lover, the one beside him offered a new side of a spectrum he'd never thought would give such pleasure. An ex-Instructor whom he'd barely liked, let alone fantasized about, gave him such passionate thrills that he could hardly comprehend. It was as if his chest expanded, inflated with a new feeling while his body tingled with the sensation of unruly desire. There was a beast—but releasing it could very well be detrimental to himself as well as all who cared.

Crimson was a vixen, one who appeared to lack emotion, lack care for anything expect the need for pleasure and others pain; a selfish creature. She was a force that Quistis battled with, even while inducing the throes of passion with a certain Commander. While the entity seemed to offer temporary contentment, she also created an emptiness that stretched three times what any tranquility she could have ever possibly acquired.

There was a soft purr of breath rumbling in the redheads' ear, rousing her from her current daydream of a white knight and black stallion. Her slumbering white knight lay beside her, and the stallion would arrive only when he chose a change, and chose to fully welcome it. Quistis stared into the face of her white knight, and with a sad smile to her lips she placed a final kiss to a barely twitching brow before slipping from the warmth and stepping into the chill of the air.

How often could these nights occur? How often could she convince him to have her? They were questions she couldn't answer, but questions Crimson was actively plotting the counters to. She would have him—whenever she wanted.

A deep, cold tremble ran through her at these thoughts, shaking her head at these possibilities. They were wrong, every single one of them. But it was the other part that made them seem so deliciously right. There was no strength left to argue. All that was left was to embrace it, embrace the change that was rapidly taking place.

With the wrinkled clothes on her back, she discreetly slipped through the dorm room door and snuck silently down the hallway toward the Parking Garage.

There was still a night ahead for even more pleasantries.

TBC

A/N: Okay, I cheated and dodged a sex scene. But I don't want to spoil you all too much. I still have some juicy stuff ahead. Woot. Besides, I'm kinda sorta trying to stay within the rating system. As you see, I'm continuing, but slowly. So I hope these satisfies, even if it is a miniscule.