Closest to Home

by h34rt1lly

Companion piece to Aftermath, my Seifer!fic for The Successor. Seifer receives an explanation as to why he was kept in the dark all these years about his adoption. With a much needed kick in the right direction from a certain former instructor, he realizes he's finally willing to listen. Rated T for strong language.

Author's Note:

This is a companion piece to Aftermath, my submission for The Successor Challenge. It takes place during Part III, after Quistis has convinced Seifer to return to Garden, but before the one year later mark where we see him as an instructor.

I received a lot of interest in hearing more about Cid and Edea's adoption of Seifer, and this piece does exactly that. Essentially, it could be read on its own, but if you've read Aftermath, I think it offers a more well-rounded experience as a package deal.

Thanks to Arenoptara and Strings805 for beta-reading. Hope you guys like it!

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It was early morning and Seifer was standing on the second-floor balcony, watching the sun rise. Bright rays of sunshine permeated the lavender, pale pink, and peach sky behind the wispy clouds, and the sight was breathtaking. Every now and then, a flock of birds would fly by, right across his vision; they were likely heading farther south, towards warmer climates—Centra or Esthar seemed most probable. Their melodic chirping echoed back to him and the corner of his lips curled upwards slightly in a fond smile.

The view and the sounds around him reminded him of his early days at Garden, when things seemed simple and peaceful. Back in those days, he knew little of the the outside world. He'd tried to follow through on the only dream he'd had and the entire world watched him crash and burn. Now, nearly twenty years of age instead of nine, he was all-too familiar with the horrors of reality.

Lately, he'd found himself on this very balcony, morning after morning, admiring the birds as they flew by. Hell, he'd never freely admit to anyone but himself that he came out here to bird-watch when he couldn't sleep. If someone else told him that's what they did when they couldn't sleep, he'd definitely call them a pussy. Out here, finally alone, he followed the flock with his eyes, unable to look away; he was envious of their ability to travel so freely.

Without fail, regardless of the agendas and actions of the human beings on the ground below, they had a predictable and pre-determined schedule in their lives that repeated every year. Sure, sometimes their departure towards paradise was delayed due to weather conditions, but in the end, they would inevitably continue on towards greener pastures—both figuratively and literally.

As for whether it was positive or negative that he was constantly envious of nature, he hadn't quite figured that out yet. He also couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was that he coveted, that he believed nature had and he didn't. Perhaps it was the infallible structure that existed in the world, regardless of whether one looked at birds, at Fastitocalons, or T-Rexaurs; every living being under the sun lived their lives per the structure that had been created for them, whether they realized the existence of it or not. In his case, life went on the way it was meant to, regardless of how much he rebelled against the structure of his own species.

If he had to venture a guess, he'd probably say that the thing he was most envious of—as far as nature went—was that even though that structure existed, most beings were free to do as they pleased. Yes, by genetic programming, birds flew south at the first hint of winter's frigid bite in the wind. However, no one forced them to. Should they decide one year that they rather liked it in the hillsides of Balamb, no one was poking and prodding for them to "get a move on" towards Esthar. Though their pre-determined destiny dictated where and when they went, if they veered off that fated path, they didn't have to face terrible consequences. The worst that could happen was that they'd be colder that year than the last, considering Balamb's climate was still rather temperate, even in the fall and winter months.

Yet, Seifer had tried to do that very thing and here he was, suffering from those consequences.

Inside of his coat pocket, his fingers curled around a steel lighter, and the chill from the metal seeped into his bones. After the numbness that had plagued him immediately upon Ultimecia's demise, every little feeling, every emotion that flitted across his mind, was a blessing in half-assed disguise.

Feeling was something that human beings took for granted. It was one of the major things that set the species apart from say, an animal. Despite that, people constantly did things to suppress those feelings, and unfortunately, in this moment in time, Seifer was no different. It wasn't that he wanted to completely eradicate said feelings, he was just having a hard time...adjusting.

He pulled the lighter out of his pocket, flipping open the cap as he lifted a cigarette and placed it between his lips. With a quick jerk of his finger, the tiny flame reached upwards and ignited the end of the "death on a stick", as Little Miss Sunshine, also known as Selphie, had started calling it. He inhaled deeply, relishing in the way the chemicals burned his throat on the way into his lungs. It was a terrible habit, and he knew it, but the scorching heat reminded him that he was alive.

There were some days that he needed the reminder more than others. Today was one of them.

Two weeks had gone by since Quistis had convinced him to return to Garden. Not much had happened since he'd stepped back through the doors, and honestly, that was probably what bothered him the most. He'd always struggled with lack of direction—at least, prior to the war—but now, it seemed even more difficult.

What exactly had been the point in coming back?

Before, he'd desperately wanted to make SeeD; that pristine and glorified uniform had been his one and only end goal for nearly half of his life. Now, however, deep down he wondered if he even really cared to make SeeD anymore. It would be a nice gesture and sure, he could say he'd finally done it, but he no longer felt that burning passion inside that drove him to reach ever higher, to achieve that trophy. Even though the promise of finally receiving that had been part of the reason for his return, it wasn't the entire reason. The other half of it had been because he'd wanted, and felt that he'd deserved, answers.

Cid and Matron were at the top of his list, but he felt that he needed answers from Quistis as well. Hell, he even felt that Squall owed him answers.

After the trial, he'd been left with so many questions. However, at the time, he didn't even know where he'd end up, let alone begin to seek any kind of resolution for the problems of the past. Thanks to Quistis' little pep talk in Timber, now he had the opportunity. But he couldn't bring himself to actually ask. Much to his shame and chagrin, Seifer Almasy, former Knight to the terrifying Sorceress Ultimecia, was too afraid to ask a Hyne-damned question.

He let out a drained sigh and took another drag of the cigarette, holding it in for just a tad bit longer this time before he blew it out. White tendrils of smoke drifted upwards and he watched them dissipate into thin air.

Finished, he ground the butt into the guard railing, extinguishing the embers, and flicked the now-dead emotional crutch to the ground below. He could've tossed it aside onto the balcony floor, but he didn't want to listen to Messenger Girl's nagging about how "it wasn't healthy and you just received a second chance at life. Why would you want to throw it away?"

She had to be spying on him. How else would she know that the cigarette butts on the balcony had been his? The thought both severely creeped him out and made him feel uncharacteristically awkward at the show of concern.

Oddly enough, she'd been the biggest surprise. Considering what he'd done to her home Garden, and the fact that he'd tried to kill her with his own hands—or specifically, with Hyperion's sharpened edge—he hadn't expected her to be so immediately forgiving. When he'd trailed into the lobby on Quistis' heels, Selphie had been waiting there for them. The bubbly brunette waved at Quistis and bounced back on her heels before she patted him on the arm. After a "Heya!", she skipped down the hall and on her way.

That was one of the few times in his life that Seifer had been rendered speechless.

He yanked the heavy exterior door open and stepped back into Garden's second-floor hallway, destination: his dorm. He'd been too exhausted—both physically and mentally—to shower over the past few days. By this point in time, he could tell he was starting to smell a little rank. Yesterday, while they were in line at the Cafeteria, Fujin had kicked him—albeit lighter than usual—and instructed him to bathe. He couldn't blame her and finally, today, he was rested enough to be alone with his thoughts for fifteen minutes, or however long he'd be under the stream of water.

He'd only gone a few steps and was passing by his—well, Quistis'—former classroom, when the intercom rang out and Cid's voice reverberated through the hall.

"Would Seifer Almasy please report to the Headmaster's Office? It's urgent. Thank you."

A flare of irritation surged through Seifer's body and he clenched his teeth, letting out a long exhale through his nose. This was one of the things he was still getting used to: being summoned to Cid's office like he was some errant student again.

Sadly, the Headmaster wasn't the only one who'd picked up this annoying habit. Squall did it on occasion, and Quistis did it a bit more frequently. In Squall's case, Seifer assumed the Commander did it to everyone but Rinoa, so it didn't set his nerves on end nearly as much. In Quistis' case, sometimes, he could swear she did it just because she knew how much he hated it.

Sweet, sweet revenge is apparently not above Miss Perfect.

He made his way into the elevator and hit '3F' instead of '1F', like he'd wanted, and let out an irritated grumble as the elevator rose. In no time at all, the doors were sliding open, revealing the plush maroon carpet that led the way to Cid's office like a runway. Trudging into the room, he made his way towards the double wooden doors at the other end and paused as he finally stood in front of them.

With unmitigated audacity, he shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked the door open with the steel toe of his boot, and it crashed against the wall behind it.

Cid—who'd been seated behind his desk—looked up at the door in a sharp motion, adjusting his glasses when he realized it was Seifer who'd entered. Beside the grandiose workspace stood Edea—Matron—with her hands clasped in front of her, an amused and yet reprimanding smile on her face.

When Seifer came to a stop in front of the desk, Cid rose to his feet. In a soft voice, Matron greeted, "Good morning, Seifer. How did you sleep?"

Seifer shrugged. "I don't sleep. Not since...you know."

At his words, Matron's welcoming smile faltered and her gaze fell to the floor. Though he still felt uncomfortable around her, and probably always would, he couldn't stand the sight of her looking so hurt over something he'd said. So, backpedaling, he muttered, "It's not a big deal."

She smiled in acceptance of his reasoning, though he knew that shesaw through his facade.

Seifer faced Cid and asked, "What'd you want?"

Again, the Headmaster adjusted his glasses and this time, cleared his throat. "Seifer, both Edea and myself feel that...well...we need to talk."

Talk about what? What could we possibly say to each other? Fucking pathetic. Seifer raised an eyebrow at the older man and in an acerbic tone, asked, "About what?"

Matron stepped forward and began with, "We know that hearing about your adoption during the trial was...difficult. However, it was imperative that you remained in the dark about that, and we'd like the chance to clear things up. You have a right to know."

Damn right I do.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, Seifer crossed his arms over his chest and rocked his weight back on his right foot. Though he knew the position wouldn't affect either Cid or Matron, it was a reflex from when he'd use his stature to intimidate other cadets.

"What makes you two think I give a shit. It's been what, ten years?"

Cid's eyebrows furrowed while he reprimanded, "Seifer…"

"Give a crap, sorry." He only apologized for Matron's sake. "Still hasn't changed the fact that it's been ten years. Took me off guard during the trial because you know, I had no fuckin'—friggin'—clue, but it's old news by now."

A frown marred Matron's soft, gentle features and she quietly asked, "Isn't there anything you want to ask us about it?"

Again, he shrugged, eliciting a sigh from Matron. He did have questions, he did want answers, but where was he supposed to start? It was difficult, nearly impossible, to get answers when he didn't exactly know what answers he wanted, or needed.

Matron glanced over at Cid, who gestured towards the couch on the far end of the office, and Seifer rolled his eyes before traipsing over to it. They followed after him and pulled over two chairs as he sank down onto the cushions, propping his ankle up on the opposite knee.

"I feel like I'm at a fu-friggin' therapy session," he muttered.

Cid chortled under his breath and the corners of Matron's lips turned downwards again. She adjusted her skirt and said, "We don't want you to feel that way, Seifer. We just...We just feel like this is something that needs to be out in the open between us. Obviously you're over eighteen now; you are your own man and we have no role in your parenting anymore. But that doesn't mean that we aren't here for you—or the others—if you should ever need us."

Seifer remained silent and held Matron's gaze for a few seconds before looking away, feeling uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and mumbled, "Fine. Start at the beginning then. I don't really know what to ask."

Again, they glanced at each other as if they were making sure they were on the same page, before Cid began speaking. "As you heard me say during the trial, when we brought you and Squall to Garden, we chose to adopt only you."

Seifer held up a hand and interrupted, "Woah, back up. Start before that. I wanna hear reasons, explanations, all that shit."

"You wish for us to begin earlier? Back when you were all at the orphanage still?" Matron asked for clarification.

Seifer nodded and she mirrored the gesture before folding her hands in her lap. With a thoughtful expression on her face, she explained, "Well, as you know, you and Squall were the only two who were never adopted. Zell went with the Dinchts to Balamb; Selphie was adopted by the Tilmitts who lived in Trabia; Quistis went with the Trepes but...she didn't stay with them for long and enrolled at Garden almost immediately after we began accepting students; Irvine ended up with the Kinneases, in Galbadia.

"In Squall's case, he was a very quiet, incredibly shy child. Whenever prospective parents visited us, he withdrew into his shell and often hid behind Ellone until they left. His behavior made it difficult for any of them to connect with him enough to want to adopt him, and that's why we brought him with us to Balamb.

"As for you, you were nearly the exact opposite. You were loud and rambunctious; as Zell liked to say, you were a bit of a bully. Every time a prank came to light, you were nearly always the one who was behind it. No matter how hard I tried to rectify your behavior, you sincerely enjoyed tormenting the other children," she let out an affectionate chuckle.

After inhaling a large breath, she continued. "I mentioned earlier that in many ways, you were—and still are—Squall's opposite. That difference translated into your behavior towards potential parents as well. Where Squall was reticent to approach them, you made your presence very well-known. It almost seemed as if you were trying to retaliate against them—though your reasons, as well as where your anger came from, I never could figure out. I'm sure that, deep down, you wished to be adopted. You wished to leave like the others had before you and find your place in the world, with a family that truly loved you, as Cid and I did.

"But it was almost as if you were testing them, to make sure that they wouldn't abandon you as you'd been abandoned before. I think even then, that was one of your greatest fears. Whenever we gave tours, we'd ask everyone to leave their shoes by the door. While we were making our way around the orphanage, you'd somehow manage to sneak away and pour honey into their shoes, or tie their laces together so they'd stumble. As they reacted to these childish pranks, you'd stand in front of them and stare up into their faces, just to see how they'd react. "

Seifer's eyes fell to the floor and he shifted uncomfortably. As the only mother he'd ever known, Matron had that uncanny ability to pinpoint every part of his personality—even the parts he preferred to keep hidden from everyone else. In the past few minutes, she'd brought everything back up to the surface that he barely even remembered from his childhood. The painful sting remained with him throughout the years however, and now, it felt as fresh as it had then.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that, so in an attempt to change the direction of the conversation, he said, "So that's why you brought me with you to Garden. But why did you end up adopting me? What exactly did that change, considering I had no clue up until the trial?"

"We—" Matron gestured to Cid and then back at herself. "—both felt that adopting you would allow us to give you the special guidance that you needed. You have always been brilliant, Seifer. However, as Quistis has experienced firsthand, you've always struggled with realizing your own potential and have sometimes acted to your own detriment. Even though we were unable to tell you about the adoption, we knew that we were watching over you, even if it was in the background."

Seifer looked at his scarred and calloused hands. The sight of what he'd used as a tool for war, just under a year ago, resting so peacefully in his lap, threw him off balance. He studied the white crescent marks that lined his long fingers, tracing the arcs of imperfection with his eyes as he thought about what Matron had said.

"So what you're saying is...telling me about the adoption might've changed everything? For better or for worse?"

Cid nodded and confirmed, "That's exactly what we mean, son."

At the term of endearment, one that every orphan—himself included—longed to hear but rarely ever got the chance to, he visibly cringed.

Cid gave him an apologetic look and continued, "I'm sorry. It slipped. What I meant was that you are correct in guessing that we were unable to tell you because it may have changed the course of things. The plan that we'd set in motion when we built Garden counted on a variety of outlying aspects. We tried to maintain control over as many things as we could. Your knowledge of the adoption was one of those things."

Seifer remained silent and continued to stare at his hands. Eventually—nearly a full minute later—he finally looked up and met Cid's eyes. "So. How much of the past year was already planned out? How much of it was out of our control? Did our own actions even matter? Was it all pointless? Were we just victims of...of fuckin' fate?"

When neither Cid nor Matron responded, Seifer took that as a yes and felt a surge of anger course through him. He shot to his feet. "That's Hyne-damned bullshit!"

Matron's eyebrows lowered in concern and she she shook her head as she reached out to Seifer in an attempt to calm him. "Seifer, please. Let us explain."

He clenched his hands and spat, "Hell no! That's what you've been supposedly doing this whole time and I don't buy any of it! They're fuckin' excuses and you know it as well as I do!"

This time, Cid bolted off the chair, his hands clenched into fists as his side. "Language, Seifer! They are not excuses and you will sit down and allow your mother the chance to explain things to you!"

Matron reached up and stroked her husband's arm, and Seifer's anger faded into a dull simmer as he glared at Cid, albeit with surprise. He'd rarely ever heard the Headmaster raise his voice and it was jarring, to say the least, to witness it firsthand. Eventually, he acquiesced and begrudgingly sat back down, crossing his arms over his chest tightly. "Fine. So explain. Better this time, for fuck's sake," he grumbled, before tacking on a quiet apology to Matron for the curse word.

As she sat in her chair, her posture regal and refined, she took a deep breath and looked into Seifer's eyes. Though he felt slightly unnerved at the scrutiny, he held her gaze nonetheless. In a quiet voice, she explained, "The reason we couldn't tell you about the adoption was because of the events that were already in play. Squall has seen this firsthand and therefore, he understands, but you never received that chance.

"When I was younger and we'd first started the orphanage, I was standing out in the front garden, trying to tame the weeds that had begun to peek through the flagstones. While I was out there...Squall...appeared."

Seifer interrupted and said, "Well yeah, he lived there, too."

Matron shook her head in denial and replied, "No, Squall as you know him now."

The blonde gunbladist furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "How? Time compression?"

She nodded. "Not long after, Ultimecia appeared in her final moments and passed her powers on to me. I discussed the experience with Cid and together, we created the plan for Garden's inception. Because of Squall's appearance and the things he said to me, we knew that he'd play a vital role in the events of the future. Much of his responsibilities during the war were because of Cid's knowledge of those things."

Seifer scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. "So all the glory that Puberty Boy got wasn't even by his own actions. Unbelievable."

This time, Cid responded. "That's not entirely true. Squall could have chosen to step down from his responsibilities. Every time I tried to place him in a role of leadership, he could've easily walked away. But we, as well as you, know that his personality would never allow him to do so. He rose to the challenge, as we knew he would due to his appearance at the orphanage as a SeeD—the SeeD who defeated Ultimecia."

Again, Seifer's gaze dropped to the floor. "Then...what about me?"

Matron let out another sigh, though this one was more heavy with emotion than the last had been. "You were...harder to plan for. While we knew that Ultimecia would possess me, we had no idea that she would choose you as her Knight. We didn't know her plans for you and by the time I was privy to her inner-thoughts, it was too late: you were already too far under her control."

A potent silence filled the room as Seifer thought back to the few memories he retained of that time. Since the trial, and since Ultimecia's departure from his mind, he'd slowly been regaining moments of his life that he'd lost while under her influence. There were still yawning chasms of emptiness, voids where he had no recollection, but those were slowly being filled with lost memories.

He cleared his throat and asked, "So you couldn't tell me about being adopted because when shit hit the fan, my actions might've affected Squall's part in all this? The knowledge might've influenced my decisions?"

With a torn, haunted expression on her face, Matron nodded.

Over the past few minutes, Seifer's emotions had been on a roller coaster ride. One minute his heart was soaring with joy at the realization that he did have people in his life who had been willing to fill the empty spots that his biological parents had voluntarily abandoned. Then, his emotions plummeted in a freefall to the bottom of the cliff when he found out that his adoptive parents basically shoved him aside so that Squall, their shining beacon of hope, could save the world.

He'd been collateral damage and that hurt like a bitch.

He clenched his jaw, overcome with a myriad of overwhelming emotions that he didn't feel like he was able to process just yet. He rose to his feet slowly, avoiding meeting either Cid or Matron's gaze. After clearing his throat again, he muttered, "I think I've heard all that I need to hear."

"Seifer...Please...We didn't...We didn't choose to throw you aside. We've always cared about you; we've always loved you and thought of you as our son. That's why we adopted you. We wanted the best for you and—"

Seifer held up his hand, interrupting Matron. "I can't hear any more, I'm sorry. I just...Thanks. For telling me." He swiveled on his heel and headed for the door, his mind and heart racing.

Cid's quick, heavy footsteps trailed after him and when he'd passed through the doorway into the anteroom, his adoptive father's hand fell on his shoulder, pulling him backwards. "Seifer, wait."

He stilled, his shoulders tense underneath Cid's hand. After taking a deep breath, he faced the older man with a neutral expression, his mouth set into a thin, apprehensive line.

When Seifer didn't speak, Cid adjusted his glasses and held his arms behind his back. "I know that was probably difficult to hear. I also know that there are no excuses or reasons we could give you that would condone our actions but...I want you to understand that, if at any point in your life where you feel like you need guidance, we're here for you. Alternatively, if you want nothing to do with us—though it would be painful to hear—we'd understand."

Still torn between feeling grateful and resentful, Seifer simply nodded.

Cid looked disappointed at his lack of response and continued on to say, "It was hardest for Edea, you know. She witnessed the way Ultimecia treated you and was rendered incapable of coming to your aid. It was like torture for her to see how you suffered and to know that there was nothing she could do. Even beforehand, when we saw the path you were heading down, it was so hard for her to not come right out and tell you about the adoption."

Torture, huh? With a grimace, Seifer muttered, "Yeah, I get how she feels."

Cid's expression fell and he dropped his gaze to the floor. "You probably need time to think about everything that we've told you. Again, if you choose to never acknowledge the fact that we are your adoptive parents, we'd understand. We just felt that it was time you knew. Should you choose to come to us though, we'll be here."

Seifer nodded once more before he turned away and headed into the elevator, pressing the button for the first floor. The last thing he saw before the office disappeared was Cid's crestfallen expression.

As the doors dinged open in the lobby, he meandered towards his dorm room in silence. He found that he had no desire to actually start processing everything he'd heard; he just let everything sink in for the moment. It wasn't until after he'd swiped his keycard and let himself into his room, then plopped down onto his full-sized mattress, that the conversation came flooding back to him.

We're your adoptive parents . . .

We couldn't tell you because fate had to play out its course . . .

Squall had to fulfill his destiny and save the world . . .

We chose him over you . . .

. . . We could've saved you from her clutches, but we didn't . . .

To be fair, he knew that wasn't exactly what they'd said. But again, if he had to be honest with himself, that's what he knew was hidden between the lines—they didn't have to say it aloud.

"Fuck," he mumbled under his breath, pushing off of his mattress. I seriously need a smoke.

He rose to his feet and walked back out of his dorm, heading towards the elevator again. After pressing the button, he patted his lapel, feeling for the outline of the pack of cigarettes he'd left in his pocket from earlier. When the elevator doors opened and he was standing inside once more, he pressed the button for the second floor and tapped his foot impatiently as the lift carried him upwards.

The doors opened and he quickly made his way down the hall. With a heavy shove against the steel door, he was back outside, in the warm, inviting Balamb air. He inhaled deeply and after a brief pause, he wandered back over to the railing he'd stood at this morning.

With practiced, familiar movements, he pulled the pack out of his pocket and lifted a cigarette to his lips again. After a flick of his wrist, the cigarette was lit and he was breathing in the wonderful, terrible chemical cocktail.

As he let out the first drag, a familiar voice called out to him from the other side of the balcony.

"You know that those will kill you, right?"

He almost dropped the cigarette in his surprise. "Fuckin' Hyne!"

Her feminine, throaty giggle reached his ears and after he had the cigarette firmly back in his mouth, he glanced up at her. "Damn it, Quistis. Why didn't you say anything when I first walked out here?"

She pushed off of the wall and sidled up to him, resting her elbows on the railing as she looked out at the ocean in the far distance. "I thought you knew I was here. It wasn't until you lit that thing that I realized you didn't." Her gaze fell to the cigarette and she commented, "I didn't know you smoked."

Seifer shrugged and took another drag. "Didn't used to."

"Did you start recently?"

"Yeah, couple of weeks ago."

Quistis stared at him for a couple of seconds before she asked, "Wasn't that when we returned to Garden?" He nodded and she lowered her eyebrows. "Why?"

Another shrug. "Couldn't sleep. Figured why not?"

"You know they're not healthy for you…"

"Yeah, you already said that, Doctor Trepe. I don't really give a fuck and no one gives a fuck about me so, what's stoppin' me?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You can't honestly believe that."

For the second time in the past fifteen minutes, Matron and Cid's voices floated back to him. We're you're adoptive parents…

He shook his head and said, "No, I guess I don't," before he mirrored her posture.

They stood there in silence for a minute or so, before he cleared his throat and put out the cigarette. She looked up at him, a silent question written all over her face and he explained, "It's rude to smoke in front of women."

She snorted and replied, "One, I think that rule only applies when said woman is pregnant. Two, I would've never pegged you as one who followed etiquette when it came to being a gentleman."

"You don't think I can be a gentleman? I can be a fuckin' gentleman—I just put out my cigarette for you," he retorted.

"Yes, thank you for that, Sir Almasy," she teased back, until she realized what she'd said and covered her mouth in horror. "Seifer, I'm sorry, I—"

Dismissively, he waved his hand in the air—though it looked more like he was swatting away a fly. "It's not like people actually called me 'Sir'. Forget it."

More silence ensued. He was beginning to regret wasting that cigarette.

Eventually, Quistis faced him and he looked at her over his shoulder. Her eyes were darting around and she refused to meet his gaze, so after a couple of awkward seconds, he pressed, "What is it, Trepe?"

"Do you...Do you want to talk?"

What is it with everyone askin' me that damn question today?

"What makes you think I need to talk?" he questioned.

"Well, people generally smoke when they're stressed, upset, or something along those lines. You seemed agitated when you first walked out onto the balcony and nearly immediately, you pulled out a cigarette so...I figured you were upset," she explained.

He scoffed. "Wow, youngest SeeD and Head Instructor for a reason, huh?"

She shrugged at the backhanded compliment and stared at him, patiently waiting for a response. If Seifer knew Quistis—and somehow, even after all of the shit that had happened between them, he did—he knew she wouldn't back down until she got what she wanted.

He turned away from her and stared out at the Alcauld Plains, admiring the view as he tried to collect his thoughts. Figuring there was no easy way to head into this conversation, he threw out, "Remember during my trial when Cid said he and Matron had adopted me?"

That obviously hadn't been what Quistis was expecting to hear, because she leaned away from him in surprise. "I-I do…" she trailed off.

"Yeah...We talked about that today."

"Oh...Wow…"

"Yeeeeeep. Fuck me, right?" he commented as he interlaced his fingers over the railing.

"Well, I wouldn't use that term but yes...I see what you mean," she replied, leaning against the barrier again. Her arm brushed up against his and he tensed, not expecting her close proximity.

She faced him and looked intently into his eyes. "So...what exactly did they say?"

"A bunch of bullshit, honestly. Bullshit that made sense but...still hurt like a bitch to hear."

Her forehead creased as she drew her eyebrows together. "What do you mean?"

Seifer let out a long, drained sigh and ran his hand down his face. "Shit, I don't even know where to start…" He faced her before finishing. "Basically they said that they couldn't tell me they'd adopted me, because Squall was meant to save the world, and I might've fucked it up if I'd known."

"That doesn't sound like something Matron would say—or Cid, for that matter."

"Well not verbatim, obviously."

Quistis let out an irritated huff and replied, "That's not what I meant. I meant that I'm sure neither of them believed that you'd...mess with the order of things if you'd known."

"See, that's the thing. They had no way to know for sure that I'd ruin their grand plans, but they decided not to take the chance; they didn't even try. They threw me aside like yesterday's trash so that Puberty Boy, Mister Knight in Shining Armor, could save the day," he spat.

Quistis stared up at him in silence and a few seconds later, she finally said, "I'm sure they would've told you if they could have."

The all-too familiar surge of anger flared up again and he whirled around, his eyes blazing. "Are you seriously fuckin' taking their side right now?"

She frowned at him, her expression all 'reprimanding teacher'. "I'm not taking anyone's side, Seifer. They could have told you earlier, yes, but it really might have affected the way things turned out. I think that now that they're reaching out to you, you should be thankful that they're here at all. Do you know how many times I've wished that I'd known my real parents? Or that my adoptive parents had been even an ounce as kind as Matron and Cid had been?

"It's too late to change the past. But the present is different; we are in control of our fate from here on out. You have a family who is reaching out to you because they want to be involved in your life, and you are incredibly lucky. Take advantage of that, Seifer. Be thankful that you have Matron and Cid."

He opened his mouth to retort but ended up closing it with a snap, unsure of how to counter that. As he let her words sink in, he realized that he didn't know how to reply because, Hyne-forbid, Quistis was right.

They hadn't been the only orphans from the First Sorceress War. Most of their group was lucky enough to have been adopted, but in Squall and Seifer's case, they'd gone straight from the destroyed remnants of the world after the first war, into training for the second. War and death had been all they'd ever known, and the concept of a loving family was beyond either of them.

Tilmitt had been lucky in her placement, and so had Irvine. Zell, as much as it pained Seifer to admit it, had been the luckiest of them all—his adoptive mother was practically a saint. Though Quistis had been adopted, the Trepes had been cruel and neglectful, and heading to Garden not long after her adoption had been a blessing. If it wasn't for that, he wouldn't have taken her words to heart as much as he had. He knew she understood how he felt; she had every right to put him in his place for not appreciating Matron and Cid's gesture.

A little belatedly, he realized that the reason they'd adopted him, even though they couldn't tell him, was so that he'd know he was never actually "unwanted" as he'd always believed. For most of his life, they had been his parents and that knowledge slammed into him.

"Shit," he muttered, straightening as he squeezed the railing in his hands.

With an affectionate, knowing pat, Quistis said, "I'll leave you alone now."

Seifer nodded without looking at her, keeping his eyes trained on the ocean on the horizon. He heard the heavy metal door open with a creak behind him, and when it didn't shut a couple of seconds later, he spun around. Quistis was standing in the doorway, staring back at him with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"You know, you should think about applying to become an instructor," she suggested.

"An instructor? Are you on something, Trepe? Why would that ever be a good idea?" he asked in disbelief.

In an uncharacteristic motion, she shrugged and said, "Sometimes, it's the most rebellious students that make the best instructors. After all, you practically 'wrote the book' as they say, right?"

"I...guess so…" he trailed off.

Quistis smiled at him. "Think about it. I think you'd be a great instructor. Also, we no longer have a gunblade specialist who's available to teach, since Squall became the commander…"

He snorted and waved his hand at her. Her attempts at complimenting him into accepting her idea were ridiculous. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just get outta here, already."

"I'll see you later, Seifer," she said with another smile, and shut the door behind her.

He shook his head at the door, chuckling to himself. Somehow, the realization that Cid and Matron had done what they'd done out of concern and love for him, made the knowledge of his intentional ignorance sting slightly less than it had before. It wouldn't be right to say that it didn't sting at all anymore, but, thanks to Quistis' insight, he could finally see where they were coming from.

The sudden urge to apologize to them—especially Matron—for his behavior earlier struck him then, and he rushed over to the door and yanked it open. He ran down the hall and dashed into the elevator, pressing '3F' repeatedly until the doors slid shut. As the elevator rose, he shifted in place, anxiously waiting to arrive.

Finally, the doors slid open again and he sprinted towards Cid's office, shoving the double doors open with yet another loud bang. Cid was sitting behind his desk again, and Matron was standing off to the side, her hand on his shoulder. They glanced up at Seifer when they heard the sound of the door crashing into the wall.

Cid began with, "Seifer? What—"

Seifer strode forward into the room and placed his hands down on Cid's desk. "You said you'd be here if I wanted to talk, right?"

Before Cid had a chance to answer, Seifer heard Matron choke back a sob. A flood of emotion swelled over him and he glanced over at her, meeting her tear-filled eyes as he tried to smile reassuringly—something he'd never been good at. It probably ended up looking more like a grimace, but he knew that she'd understand what he really meant.

Cid's thick eyebrows pinched together over his round glasses and he replied, "Well yes, of course, but...only when you're ready."

Now that he was directly in front of them, Seifer suddenly felt nervous. His palms were sweaty and as he wiped them on his pants, he had to take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm his nerves. He sank down into the plush chair across from the desk, and when he next spoke, he knew his words weren't just falling on Cid and Matron's ears—they were falling on his mother and father's ears. He knew this was the closest he would ever be to home.

"...Okay. I'm ready."

. . .

. . .

The End.