The gray light of dusk crept across the low, broken columns of marble
outside of Edea's home. Squall had not set things right when he arrived,
preferring to languish amid the ruin of his past life. In one corner of the
room he had grown up in as a child lay his gunblade, unused for over a
month. He had set up a low cot from cushions scavenged from the storage
room- some of them had remained sealed within their airtight bags and
protected from the elements. His coat was thrown carelessly on the floor at
the bottom of the bed, his gloves lay on top of the coat. He hadn't been
happy here, but he hadn't been forced to endure the quiet pity of his
comrades. Ever since Rinoa had died fighting Ultimecia, nothing made sense.
Squall had wanted to die, there hadn't been anything left to live for. But,
somehow the others had convinced him to keep breathing...Cid, Matron,
Laguna- they had worried about him, wanted him to help them in rebuilding
the world. But it wouldn't help to put buildings back up, cities could rise
again but Rinoa would never be coming back.
Squall clenched his fists to his stomach, thick locks of dark brown hair falling into his eyes as he bent his head- he had let his hair grow since...it all ended. The pain was still fresh, time wasn't doing any good. With a heavy sigh he opened the back door and stepped out into the cool night air. The sun was sinking down into the sea- a beautiful sight if you had the eyes to see it with. But everywhere Squall looked he only saw gray, unhappy, useless action. He started walking down the broad, winding stairs that led to the beach. Often he had fallen asleep listening to the sea, there was something comforting in the eternal rush of the waters on the shore. As he rounded the first of the turns he started, coming to a halt. Who? How?
"Seifer!" He gasped, shocked beyond thought.
He leaned his head against the stone, breathing slowly. The stone felt good, familiar. With his eyes closed, he brushed tired fingers over it and it seemed so real to him. At the top of these stairs was some place he wanted to be. Yes, someplace he wanted to be, he thought, even though he had no idea what that might be.
Wearing the same clothes that he'd always worn, black pants, now a bit to big, black boots, his gray duster with the red swords, black shirt, he had no idea how scruffy he looked. He had his bag though, a canvas back pack, worn and more gray than cream colored. His he held close to his chest. He knew he'd remember what was in the bag when he needed to, no matter how much his mind wandered. Yes, yes, his sketch book. Quickly, with nervous fingers, he opened the bag and pulled out the littlest book, bound in black shiny paper. This was the very important one. Reverently, he opened it, to make sure the pages were what they should be. Pages and pages of beautiful eyes, as the pages neared the back of the book, wild brown hair, just a hint of red.
He didn't know who this was, but he had to find him. These eyes, finding the one that owned them... that was what he was living for. Still, the stairs were a lot to climb right now and he leaned his head against the familiar stone, closing his eyes for a moment more, his breathing rough and irregular.
"Seifer!"
The word woke him and sent him scrambling back down the stairs, sketch book and bag clutched to his chest. He glared, his body taking an aggressive stance out of habit. Then he saw the eyes, the hair, and the face just filled in to his memory â€" this was the one he'd been looking for! His heart felt like it started to beat again! "I've been looking for you," he whispered.
Squall fell into a defensive crouch, his hands extended as years of training snapped into focus. All the melancholy and despair were set aside into a corner of his finely-honed mind as he confronted his rival who he had thought dead. It was such an ingrained reaction he didn't even have time to consider the irony, after a month of non-combat, swearing off all that was going on in the world- who but Seifer of all people should show up and bring his old killing instincts to the surface?
"Did you come to finish me off? Your too late Seifer- I'm already dead, I just don't look it. I didn't think you'd survived."
Why was Seifer looking at him like that? Now that Squall had a chance to take in his appearance...he was filthy and battered, like he had been cast up on the shores of Matron's home like some piece of flotsam. His eyes though...they were burning with an almost feverish light. Why had Seifer been looking for him? How had he managed to stay alive?
"That can't be! You can't be dead," Seifer said firmly, as he slowly sank back down to the stairs, resting his back against the stone wall. He set the bag down beside him and looked inside for his bottle of water. "Are ghosts then? Do you remember my name?"
Squall relaxed a little, a look of puzzlement coming over his face. What was Seifer up to? Was this some kind of trick? Yet the Seifer he knew wouldn't be wandering around in such an unkempt state- certainly not confronting his archrival without looking polished. Squall let his hands fall to his sides- what did it matter if Seifer killed him? It would just mean he could rest...
"I'm no better than a ghost- and you should be one. We thought you were dead, Seifer."
It hurt to think about it, so Seifer ran a hand through his dirty blond hair and looked up at his dream. "That's my name? Seifer?" Holding his bag, he levered himself back up to his feet. He'd done something bad, something big, and he couldn't remember it, did not want to remember it. Suddenly he closed his eyes as if that could keep the demon memory out. Sharp fingers, long nails, sharp against the bad of his head, just above his neck. "Relax, accept," a female voice hissed in his ear, "You are my knight still and I will have you obedient."
"No! No! Get the fuck off me!" His own voice yelled in the memory.
When he opened his yes, the memory was gone though, lost and distant. "Are you sad? Why are you sad? What is your name?"
Squall looked down at the gray stones between his feet. Gray like his eyes, gray like the world after Rinoa.
"It's none of your business."
But...what trick was this? Why was Seifer playing with him? Didn't know his name, didn't know why he was just a shadow of his former self, didn't even know his own name!
"Squall- like you needed me to tell you that Seifer. What are you playing at? I don't want company."
The first person he had seen in weeks, and it had to be this eerie phantom of Seifer, looking like a castaway, pretending not to have any memory. But...there was something strange about his demeanor- the arrogance was gone. Could he be telling the truth...?
"Squall," Seifer said the name as if it were a scared magic word, a talisman he'd lost, but now found. "Squall."
Squall, the beauty of the name distracted him. This man wasn't the only one not to walk Seifer around though, and had the solid impression that there weren't a lot of places for him to go. An old echo of pride stirred up in him though. "Fine. I don't want to, uh, be here if you don't want company, but," Seifer took at step down the stairs, his hand on the smaller sketch book, as he wondered if he should give it to this man, now that he'd found him. What a hole full of nothing seemed to wait for him when he walked away. Book still in his hand, he rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead, over the scar there. "But, were we friends?"
Squall sat down on the cold stone step, putting his head into his hands. If Seifer decided to kill him when he wasn't looking- fine. But this Seifer didn't even seem capable of making sense, much less attacking him out of nowhere.
Friends...Squall felt a strange tightness in his chest. They had never been friends exactly, but they hadn't been enemies either until last year. He had...been very disappointed- looking at things in retrospect- when Seifer had gone over to the Sorceress pursuing his dreams of glory and romance. Squall had envied him a little, for being so bold in following what he wanted, but he had gone about it the wrong way- putting innocent lives at risk.
"No. We were never friends." He said quietly. "But we didn't have to be enemies either- that was your choice."
He didn't want Seifer to leave- the thought struck him like a bullet. All the sudden he felt connected to the world again, that month of isolation hadn't been able to cut off his awareness of what was going on beyond the walls of Matron's home, but now...seeing Seifer- everything became concrete again.
Including Rinoa's death...but that had never been far from his mind, or ever seemed unreal- just horrible beyond anything that had ever happened in Squall's life.
"If we weren't friends, how come thinking about finding you gave me something to live for? I thought I'd never find you sometimes. I'm really sorry, Squall with Gray Eyes," Seifer said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. The little book was too precious to him to give away. "I must have done something very bad. Where do people who have done things that make them monsters go, Squall?"
Seifer smiled lightly, it probably didn't really matter what Squall said, he doubted he'd remember it long after he walked away.
Seifer had thought about him in order to stay alive? Why? Thoughts of revenge had kept him living through whatever he had gone through the past year...? Too many questions- like why did Seifer talk about his eyes like that.
He really didn't seem to have any memory. The old Seifer wouldn't be sneaky...he'd march up to Squall, decked out in all his finery, his boots and gunblade polished, and challenge him to a duel. Squall could almost see it- his blond hair shaken slightly by the wind, the smell of metal and gunpowder on the air as they stood, waiting, watching for an opening...his hand drifted up to the scar Seifer had given him.
A year ago he'd have let Seifer go without a thought. Now, Rinoa's legacy lived on even after she had perished. Squall found he couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop caring like he had used to. Now he worried, now he wanted to help- that was why he had to get away where there was no one to bother him, no problems except his own ruined heart to worry about.
And here was Seifer with his cryptic, haunting words and answerless questions. And Squall felt he had to help him- and he hated himself for it.
"Now that you've found me...you're just going to leave again?"
Why had he said "Again"? He hadn't meant to say that...
Holding onto the railing now, panting slightly, emotions making even this light exertion too much. "I left before? I am a fool. Do you want me to stay? I could make myself helpful." Seifer let his eyes closed, trying to catch his breath. It was when he closed his eyes though, that memories caught him. This time it was him, tall and decked out in new clothes, a brand new gun-blade in his hands. He remembered grinning at a younger Squall, thinking he'd impress him, get some of the boy's attention. With a gasp he opened his eyes and desperately grasped for the memory which had felt so good, but it was gone, leaving nothing in the empty landscape of his mind. His voices hoarse, "I've known you a long time, haven't I?"
"Ever since we were just kids..."
Seifer sounded really bad, Squall was convinced- he had actually lost his memory. Maybe it was for the best, maybe his mind had simply shut down under the weight of its guilt...
But Seifer hadn't felt guilty about what he had been doing. He had never believed anything other than that he was always in the right- that he was a noble figure defending his Lady against the "bad Guys" Squall and his friends...
"Where would you go if you left?"
Not that he wanted him to go- not exactly that, not really...but- he wasn't about to invite him to stay...
Not yet...at least.
"You musta been a cute kid, Squall," Seifer said, forcing himself to take one more step down the stairs. It had taken him a while, longer than his memory could hold at the moment to make it up the stairs this far. And he found he really did want to see what was at the top, that it was some place important to him.
Where would he go? He had no memory of any place farther away than the stairs. "I guess I'd just walk down the beach, that way," he pointed off down the beach, "It's got to go somewhere. Then I'd be there. But I really kinda wanted to see what was up there." Now he pointed up the stairs to what showed above. "It feels like it was important to me, like there might be someone there who knew me. But if it's not good for me to go there, I can just leave, if you think that's best."
Seifer forced a smile and his lower lip actually cracked it was so dry. His water bottle! He'd almost forgotten it. Carefully, he reached for it, inching his way down the wall, one arm against it to help keep his balance.
What did Seifer mean- he had been a cute kid? How was that supposed to have anything to do with what was going on. God this was so frustrating. Seeing Seifer like this moved Squall's heart to pity. The other man would have rather died than be knowingly reduced to this wretched state.
"So you do remember things! How do you remember what I looked like when I was younger?"
Squall squeezed his head between his hands. Seifer- Seifer the White Knight, utterly clueless and thinking he could just wander off into monster infested territory- there were no settlements within easy distance of Matron's home.
"No..." He sighed, getting up slowly. "No you don't have to go- you should at least go up..."
Up to Matron's home where they had spent the early years of their lives together, all of them. Seifer was one of them...there couldn't be any denying that. He had just as much a right to visit their old home as Squall did- even if he didn't remember exactly why it was important.
Squall stepped down towards Seifer, impulsively hooking an arm under his to keep him from falling over- he looked like he was about to collapse on the worn steps at any moment.
"I'll take you up" He said quietly. "We used to live there together."
"We did?" Seifer asked, even as he cringed just a little from the touch. "Are you my brother? I remember things sometimes, but then they slip away and I can't remember them any more. Why did I go away?"
Seifer reached for Squall's hand and squeezed his fingers lightly. Seifer's hands weren't calloused anymore, soft and dirty, skinnier than they had been. In the palace when time compression had started, in timelessness, he'd been forgotten in the cell he'd earned for himself. Everyone forgot him. If there had not been water from the sink, he probably would have died. Memories tried to claw their way to the front of his tangled mind, but he refused to close his eyes. "There is a woman," he whispered, "with long nails and if she comes, I'll have to leave. I don't want her to find you."
Squall tried to ignore Seifer's hesitant questions- and the soft touch of his hand, but it was impossible on both counts. Seifer's ignorance was hurting Squall in some way that he didn't understand. It didn't seem right that everything they had gone through should be forgotten- that Seifer could forget everything he had done.
Brothers...Squall stumbled a little as he guided Seifer up towards the ruin. Maybe they had been brothers of a kind, very competitive, hurtful brothers...
"No, I'm not your brother- we just grew up together."
The woman with long nails- he was describing the Sorceress- or all of them. Why was his first impulse to tell Seifer that he wouldn't let it happen? Wouldn't let the Sorceress take him again? Nothing was making sense- least of all himself.
"That sounds like the Sorceress- she had long nails. You worked for her." He put a hand on Seifer's chest to keep the young man from stepping on a loose stone.
"Step over that. I don't think she'll find you- she's dead, she died when we thought you died."
"Dead? Are you sure," Seifer asked, his hand flying to the back of his head, not sure why, but once it was there he started scratching. He took a deep breath, slowly. It felt very good, so good. Then the rest of what the man with the gray eyes said made a connection in his mind. "Worked for her? Bad. She was bad."
Seifer held out one hand, as if he expected to see long nails on his own hand and maybe he could for a moment, so kaleidoscope was his mental process right then. Blood covered his fingers though and he couldn't stop staring, even as Gray Eyes guided him up the stairs. Then a different memory grabbed him, of waiting outside Garden, for several hours, waiting for this one to get there. "I waited for you, when you first came, to a place, big place, and you wouldn't smile at me. Did I make you mad?"
"What?"
Squall stopped to look at Seifer, his eye's widening as he took in the blood covering the young man's hand.
"You're hurt." His collar was stained with blood. He leaned over Seifer's neck, gently pushing his head down to see what was bothering him-
"Oh my god..."
Squall clenched his fists to his stomach, thick locks of dark brown hair falling into his eyes as he bent his head- he had let his hair grow since...it all ended. The pain was still fresh, time wasn't doing any good. With a heavy sigh he opened the back door and stepped out into the cool night air. The sun was sinking down into the sea- a beautiful sight if you had the eyes to see it with. But everywhere Squall looked he only saw gray, unhappy, useless action. He started walking down the broad, winding stairs that led to the beach. Often he had fallen asleep listening to the sea, there was something comforting in the eternal rush of the waters on the shore. As he rounded the first of the turns he started, coming to a halt. Who? How?
"Seifer!" He gasped, shocked beyond thought.
He leaned his head against the stone, breathing slowly. The stone felt good, familiar. With his eyes closed, he brushed tired fingers over it and it seemed so real to him. At the top of these stairs was some place he wanted to be. Yes, someplace he wanted to be, he thought, even though he had no idea what that might be.
Wearing the same clothes that he'd always worn, black pants, now a bit to big, black boots, his gray duster with the red swords, black shirt, he had no idea how scruffy he looked. He had his bag though, a canvas back pack, worn and more gray than cream colored. His he held close to his chest. He knew he'd remember what was in the bag when he needed to, no matter how much his mind wandered. Yes, yes, his sketch book. Quickly, with nervous fingers, he opened the bag and pulled out the littlest book, bound in black shiny paper. This was the very important one. Reverently, he opened it, to make sure the pages were what they should be. Pages and pages of beautiful eyes, as the pages neared the back of the book, wild brown hair, just a hint of red.
He didn't know who this was, but he had to find him. These eyes, finding the one that owned them... that was what he was living for. Still, the stairs were a lot to climb right now and he leaned his head against the familiar stone, closing his eyes for a moment more, his breathing rough and irregular.
"Seifer!"
The word woke him and sent him scrambling back down the stairs, sketch book and bag clutched to his chest. He glared, his body taking an aggressive stance out of habit. Then he saw the eyes, the hair, and the face just filled in to his memory â€" this was the one he'd been looking for! His heart felt like it started to beat again! "I've been looking for you," he whispered.
Squall fell into a defensive crouch, his hands extended as years of training snapped into focus. All the melancholy and despair were set aside into a corner of his finely-honed mind as he confronted his rival who he had thought dead. It was such an ingrained reaction he didn't even have time to consider the irony, after a month of non-combat, swearing off all that was going on in the world- who but Seifer of all people should show up and bring his old killing instincts to the surface?
"Did you come to finish me off? Your too late Seifer- I'm already dead, I just don't look it. I didn't think you'd survived."
Why was Seifer looking at him like that? Now that Squall had a chance to take in his appearance...he was filthy and battered, like he had been cast up on the shores of Matron's home like some piece of flotsam. His eyes though...they were burning with an almost feverish light. Why had Seifer been looking for him? How had he managed to stay alive?
"That can't be! You can't be dead," Seifer said firmly, as he slowly sank back down to the stairs, resting his back against the stone wall. He set the bag down beside him and looked inside for his bottle of water. "Are ghosts then? Do you remember my name?"
Squall relaxed a little, a look of puzzlement coming over his face. What was Seifer up to? Was this some kind of trick? Yet the Seifer he knew wouldn't be wandering around in such an unkempt state- certainly not confronting his archrival without looking polished. Squall let his hands fall to his sides- what did it matter if Seifer killed him? It would just mean he could rest...
"I'm no better than a ghost- and you should be one. We thought you were dead, Seifer."
It hurt to think about it, so Seifer ran a hand through his dirty blond hair and looked up at his dream. "That's my name? Seifer?" Holding his bag, he levered himself back up to his feet. He'd done something bad, something big, and he couldn't remember it, did not want to remember it. Suddenly he closed his eyes as if that could keep the demon memory out. Sharp fingers, long nails, sharp against the bad of his head, just above his neck. "Relax, accept," a female voice hissed in his ear, "You are my knight still and I will have you obedient."
"No! No! Get the fuck off me!" His own voice yelled in the memory.
When he opened his yes, the memory was gone though, lost and distant. "Are you sad? Why are you sad? What is your name?"
Squall looked down at the gray stones between his feet. Gray like his eyes, gray like the world after Rinoa.
"It's none of your business."
But...what trick was this? Why was Seifer playing with him? Didn't know his name, didn't know why he was just a shadow of his former self, didn't even know his own name!
"Squall- like you needed me to tell you that Seifer. What are you playing at? I don't want company."
The first person he had seen in weeks, and it had to be this eerie phantom of Seifer, looking like a castaway, pretending not to have any memory. But...there was something strange about his demeanor- the arrogance was gone. Could he be telling the truth...?
"Squall," Seifer said the name as if it were a scared magic word, a talisman he'd lost, but now found. "Squall."
Squall, the beauty of the name distracted him. This man wasn't the only one not to walk Seifer around though, and had the solid impression that there weren't a lot of places for him to go. An old echo of pride stirred up in him though. "Fine. I don't want to, uh, be here if you don't want company, but," Seifer took at step down the stairs, his hand on the smaller sketch book, as he wondered if he should give it to this man, now that he'd found him. What a hole full of nothing seemed to wait for him when he walked away. Book still in his hand, he rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead, over the scar there. "But, were we friends?"
Squall sat down on the cold stone step, putting his head into his hands. If Seifer decided to kill him when he wasn't looking- fine. But this Seifer didn't even seem capable of making sense, much less attacking him out of nowhere.
Friends...Squall felt a strange tightness in his chest. They had never been friends exactly, but they hadn't been enemies either until last year. He had...been very disappointed- looking at things in retrospect- when Seifer had gone over to the Sorceress pursuing his dreams of glory and romance. Squall had envied him a little, for being so bold in following what he wanted, but he had gone about it the wrong way- putting innocent lives at risk.
"No. We were never friends." He said quietly. "But we didn't have to be enemies either- that was your choice."
He didn't want Seifer to leave- the thought struck him like a bullet. All the sudden he felt connected to the world again, that month of isolation hadn't been able to cut off his awareness of what was going on beyond the walls of Matron's home, but now...seeing Seifer- everything became concrete again.
Including Rinoa's death...but that had never been far from his mind, or ever seemed unreal- just horrible beyond anything that had ever happened in Squall's life.
"If we weren't friends, how come thinking about finding you gave me something to live for? I thought I'd never find you sometimes. I'm really sorry, Squall with Gray Eyes," Seifer said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. The little book was too precious to him to give away. "I must have done something very bad. Where do people who have done things that make them monsters go, Squall?"
Seifer smiled lightly, it probably didn't really matter what Squall said, he doubted he'd remember it long after he walked away.
Seifer had thought about him in order to stay alive? Why? Thoughts of revenge had kept him living through whatever he had gone through the past year...? Too many questions- like why did Seifer talk about his eyes like that.
He really didn't seem to have any memory. The old Seifer wouldn't be sneaky...he'd march up to Squall, decked out in all his finery, his boots and gunblade polished, and challenge him to a duel. Squall could almost see it- his blond hair shaken slightly by the wind, the smell of metal and gunpowder on the air as they stood, waiting, watching for an opening...his hand drifted up to the scar Seifer had given him.
A year ago he'd have let Seifer go without a thought. Now, Rinoa's legacy lived on even after she had perished. Squall found he couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop caring like he had used to. Now he worried, now he wanted to help- that was why he had to get away where there was no one to bother him, no problems except his own ruined heart to worry about.
And here was Seifer with his cryptic, haunting words and answerless questions. And Squall felt he had to help him- and he hated himself for it.
"Now that you've found me...you're just going to leave again?"
Why had he said "Again"? He hadn't meant to say that...
Holding onto the railing now, panting slightly, emotions making even this light exertion too much. "I left before? I am a fool. Do you want me to stay? I could make myself helpful." Seifer let his eyes closed, trying to catch his breath. It was when he closed his eyes though, that memories caught him. This time it was him, tall and decked out in new clothes, a brand new gun-blade in his hands. He remembered grinning at a younger Squall, thinking he'd impress him, get some of the boy's attention. With a gasp he opened his eyes and desperately grasped for the memory which had felt so good, but it was gone, leaving nothing in the empty landscape of his mind. His voices hoarse, "I've known you a long time, haven't I?"
"Ever since we were just kids..."
Seifer sounded really bad, Squall was convinced- he had actually lost his memory. Maybe it was for the best, maybe his mind had simply shut down under the weight of its guilt...
But Seifer hadn't felt guilty about what he had been doing. He had never believed anything other than that he was always in the right- that he was a noble figure defending his Lady against the "bad Guys" Squall and his friends...
"Where would you go if you left?"
Not that he wanted him to go- not exactly that, not really...but- he wasn't about to invite him to stay...
Not yet...at least.
"You musta been a cute kid, Squall," Seifer said, forcing himself to take one more step down the stairs. It had taken him a while, longer than his memory could hold at the moment to make it up the stairs this far. And he found he really did want to see what was at the top, that it was some place important to him.
Where would he go? He had no memory of any place farther away than the stairs. "I guess I'd just walk down the beach, that way," he pointed off down the beach, "It's got to go somewhere. Then I'd be there. But I really kinda wanted to see what was up there." Now he pointed up the stairs to what showed above. "It feels like it was important to me, like there might be someone there who knew me. But if it's not good for me to go there, I can just leave, if you think that's best."
Seifer forced a smile and his lower lip actually cracked it was so dry. His water bottle! He'd almost forgotten it. Carefully, he reached for it, inching his way down the wall, one arm against it to help keep his balance.
What did Seifer mean- he had been a cute kid? How was that supposed to have anything to do with what was going on. God this was so frustrating. Seeing Seifer like this moved Squall's heart to pity. The other man would have rather died than be knowingly reduced to this wretched state.
"So you do remember things! How do you remember what I looked like when I was younger?"
Squall squeezed his head between his hands. Seifer- Seifer the White Knight, utterly clueless and thinking he could just wander off into monster infested territory- there were no settlements within easy distance of Matron's home.
"No..." He sighed, getting up slowly. "No you don't have to go- you should at least go up..."
Up to Matron's home where they had spent the early years of their lives together, all of them. Seifer was one of them...there couldn't be any denying that. He had just as much a right to visit their old home as Squall did- even if he didn't remember exactly why it was important.
Squall stepped down towards Seifer, impulsively hooking an arm under his to keep him from falling over- he looked like he was about to collapse on the worn steps at any moment.
"I'll take you up" He said quietly. "We used to live there together."
"We did?" Seifer asked, even as he cringed just a little from the touch. "Are you my brother? I remember things sometimes, but then they slip away and I can't remember them any more. Why did I go away?"
Seifer reached for Squall's hand and squeezed his fingers lightly. Seifer's hands weren't calloused anymore, soft and dirty, skinnier than they had been. In the palace when time compression had started, in timelessness, he'd been forgotten in the cell he'd earned for himself. Everyone forgot him. If there had not been water from the sink, he probably would have died. Memories tried to claw their way to the front of his tangled mind, but he refused to close his eyes. "There is a woman," he whispered, "with long nails and if she comes, I'll have to leave. I don't want her to find you."
Squall tried to ignore Seifer's hesitant questions- and the soft touch of his hand, but it was impossible on both counts. Seifer's ignorance was hurting Squall in some way that he didn't understand. It didn't seem right that everything they had gone through should be forgotten- that Seifer could forget everything he had done.
Brothers...Squall stumbled a little as he guided Seifer up towards the ruin. Maybe they had been brothers of a kind, very competitive, hurtful brothers...
"No, I'm not your brother- we just grew up together."
The woman with long nails- he was describing the Sorceress- or all of them. Why was his first impulse to tell Seifer that he wouldn't let it happen? Wouldn't let the Sorceress take him again? Nothing was making sense- least of all himself.
"That sounds like the Sorceress- she had long nails. You worked for her." He put a hand on Seifer's chest to keep the young man from stepping on a loose stone.
"Step over that. I don't think she'll find you- she's dead, she died when we thought you died."
"Dead? Are you sure," Seifer asked, his hand flying to the back of his head, not sure why, but once it was there he started scratching. He took a deep breath, slowly. It felt very good, so good. Then the rest of what the man with the gray eyes said made a connection in his mind. "Worked for her? Bad. She was bad."
Seifer held out one hand, as if he expected to see long nails on his own hand and maybe he could for a moment, so kaleidoscope was his mental process right then. Blood covered his fingers though and he couldn't stop staring, even as Gray Eyes guided him up the stairs. Then a different memory grabbed him, of waiting outside Garden, for several hours, waiting for this one to get there. "I waited for you, when you first came, to a place, big place, and you wouldn't smile at me. Did I make you mad?"
"What?"
Squall stopped to look at Seifer, his eye's widening as he took in the blood covering the young man's hand.
"You're hurt." His collar was stained with blood. He leaned over Seifer's neck, gently pushing his head down to see what was bothering him-
"Oh my god..."