I

My name is Seifer Almasy. Unless you've been living in a cave in Trabia for the last three years, you know who I am. Or, at least, you think you do. You know what I've done. You've heard the tales about the horrible crimes I committed, seen the human interest stories about the families of people that I murdered and you probably even read my so-called confession in the newspaper. I bet you've passed judgment on me, condemned me, called me a monster. You've associated my name with all things awful and evil. You probably even believe that I'm a psychotic killer, that I'm unredeemable and should rot in hell for all eternity.

Am I right?

Well, I'm here to tell you: you know exactly dick about who I am.

You know what I did, but that doesn't mean you know what I'm really about.

Most of what you've heard about me is true. I'll admit that. I did commit those crimes, and I did kill those people, but before you write me off again, let me tell you...unless you've been mind raped by a Sorceress bent on destroying the world, you know nothing about my motivation for doing the things I did. You think I wanted to do those things? Think again, buddy. I was a screwed up kid who got in over his head and by the time I figured out what was going on, it was too late.

It's not an excuse, just the truth. I'll be the first to admit to my crimes and failures, and of all the things they call me, liar is not one of them. So if you think I'm trying to con you or blow smoke, think again. I only deal in truth. I have no time or patience for delusions anymore. Not even my own.

But I digress.

There are some who believe that I was possessed from the start, but that's not the case. I had a choice. I could either follow her into the unknown or stay behind and face whatever fate awaited me back at Garden. I chose to follow. I chose that path, and whatever sins that were committed are on me. I did those things. I am a bastard and a killer, but no more so than the great Squall Leonhart, who emerged a hero in the end. The difference between us is the reasons behind why we killed.

It could have just as easily been Squall, you know. Had I chosen to walk away from her, she would have turned her eyes on him, and maybe he'd be the one everyone loathed and looked at with hatred burning in their eyes. He would have been the sinner, the murderer, the hated and loathed. But I made the choice, for better or for worse and that burden is mine to carry.

Looking back, it makes me sick to think about the things she made me do. Sick. Just like it makes you sick to think about them. Except that I have to think about them all the time. It's on my mind, twenty-four-seven and it never goes away. Not even sleep is a refuge from my sins.

One other thing. That 'confession' the Galbadian papers printed? Not a word of it came out of my mouth. Don't believe everything you read, especially when it comes from Galbadia. After all, you should already know that the Gabadian Gazette deals in sensationalism, not fact. And the results of those psychological evaluations the Gazette printed? The ones that said I was a psychotic, disturbed individual with no conscience? Well, the only doctor I saw in prison was the one who gave me a tetanus shot after another inmate stabbed me with a filed down spoon.

One of these days, I'm going to write down the whole thing, in my own words, and tell you what really happened.

But not today.

So, what's the point, you wonder? Well, I'm here to tell you how and why I ended up back at Balamb Garden, and how a fuck up like me got a second chance to get it right.

II

I stood in front of Balamb Garden staring up at my former home with a mixture of dread and excitement. It was a symbol of my youth, the only place I really ever called home, and every good memory I had was born inside those walls. It was also a reminder of every mistake I had ever made, every sin I'd ever committed and every drop of blood I'd shed. I thought I'd never lay eyes on this place again.

I was handcuffed and dressed in a bright orange Galbadian prison uniform and everyone was staring at me as I stood there, trying to decide if I should tell the guard to take me back to E-District or if I should suck it up and deal with whatever awaited me on the other side. I'd left this place as a boy (I might have denied it then, but that's exactly what I was) with more talent than I knew what to do with, a kid with too much potential and a laundry list of impossible dreams I was returning as a broken man, feared by most, hated by all, and I hadn't a single dream left. Three years in prison had eroded away every last hope I'd ever had for myself, and I knew that there was nothing left for me but time and regret and the stones of guilt that weighed me down as heavily as if they'd been sewn into my clothes.

All around me, I felt their eyes boring into me. I could feel their hatred. I could hear their whispers. They knew who I was and what I'd done. I wish I could say that I didn't care, but I did. How could I explain why I did the things I did? How could I tell them that I hadn't been in control of the situation? I suppose they had the right to judge me, since in the beginning, I did go along willingly with the whole ugly scheme. I had these grand illusions of being revered and lauded as a hero in every corner of the world. Everyone would know my name, and the whole world would respect me.

What an idiot I was. I didn't know that power makes you drunk or that a kid like me could be brainwashed into doing things that no sane person would do. I'd bought into it, hook, line and sinker and by the time I realized what was going on, it was too late to take it back. The sins had already been committed, the blood already dried to crust on my hands.

And just so you know? If I could take it all back, I would.

The Galbadian prison guard that served as my escort gave me a rough shove from behind and said, "Keep it moving Almasy."

I looked over my shoulder at him.

"Mind if I have a smoke first?"

I hadn't had one since I'd left the prison many hours ago, and every cell in my body was screaming for a fix. There's not much to do in prison but work, sleep and smoke. I'd become a slave to nicotine, and at that moment, I was jonesing. Bad, like.

The guard eyed the pack I kept in the front pocket of my prison issue shirt and fished it out. He took two from the pack, one for me, one for him and lit both of them. In any other situation, I would have been pissed about him helping himself to my stash, but I let it go. There wasn't a lot I could do to him in handcuffs, and these days, I picked my battles.

As I smoked my cigarette, I though about how I'd lucked out. Somehow, Headmaster Cid had convinced the Galbadian and Estharian governments to turn custody of me over to Garden. Technically, I was still their property, regardless of what I'd done, and technically that meant they were the ones who had the right to administer my punishment as they saw fit. Or some such nonsense. It didn't matter to me. What was Cid going to do? Keep me in the brig for the rest of my life? I was cool with that. The brig at Garden was a day at the freaking spa compared to what I'd been through in the last three years. I'd probably still be considered the lowest common denominator, but at least I'd have a cell to myself, decent food and the guy in the cell next to me probably wouldn't sing 'Eyes on Me' at the top of his lungs all night long. More than likely, I'd be one of maybe two or three in a place built to hold ten times that.

But, I'll tell you, I wasn't looking forward to seeing them again. You know who I mean. I didn't want to see how they'd reaped the benefits of their victory. After all, in the end, it was their names that commanded respect, their names that were synonymous with heroism and courage, not mine. My name brought to mind vile and evil things. I'd read the papers after it had all gone down. I'd seen the photos and the television reports about all the ceremonies and awards and recognition they'd received for saving the world. They got medals and accolades. I got a life sentence and more guilt than any man should ever have to carry around.

It might sound to you like I begrudged them their glory, but I didn't. I'd have reveled in it too if I'd been them. I would have milked it for everything it was worth and then some.

And the truth was, I felt really guilty about my part in the whole stupid mess. While I wasn't in control of my actions, it was still my hand at the wheel, and I felt bad about that. My sins would eat at me for the rest of my life. No matter how hard I tried to repair the damage done, there would never be enough time to fix it. There was no way I could repay those that I'd hurt and killed, nothing that would take the stain of blood from my hands.

So there I stood, staring at my former home, the cigarette dangling from my lips, and pondered what was in store for me. I wondered why Cid had even bothered. In Galbadia, I wasn't his problem child any more. I was out of sight, out of mind, or at least, I should have been. Did he want to make me face my crimes? To look into the eyes of those I'd betrayed? Maybe, but I didn't see what good that would do except make me a mascot for evil, which I already was. And truth be told, I didn't think Cid was vindictive like that. After all, his own wife had played a large part in the whole thing, used like a puppet just as I had.

Edea had never been imprisoned for her crimes. She'd killed Vinzer Deling in front of twenty thousand people, not that his death was a great loss to the world, but still, she'd killed the President of Galbadia, which was technically treason. She'd ordered me to kill anyone who stood in her way, like a mob boss ordering a hit on anyone who crossed him. It never mattered who they were.

They forgave her because she'd been possessed by Ultimecia. Because she'd been a kind woman before her possession.

Me? I'd been a poster child for delinquent behavior. They had no reason to forgive me.

Didn't they know Ultimecia controlled my every move? Shouldn't I have been forgiven too?

Well, I suppose someone had to be the scapegoat. Someone had to be punished for it. Easier to blame a mortal man than a megolomaniacal sorceress from the future that no one had ever heard of before.

"All right, Almasy. Let's go," the guard said and tossed his cigarette butt on the ground. He took me by the arm and lead me through the gate, up the steps and directly to the elevator.

I was bombarded by memories as I looked around at the place I'd once called home. It hadn't changed much from what I could tell, though I'd read in the papers about several expansion projects Squall had initiated once he'd officially and permanently assumed control of Balamb Garden.

Funny thing about that. I'd never imagined that Squall would go anywhere. Not because he didn't have talent, but because he'd never wanted to stand out. He was content to just be average, even if he couldn't have been average if he'd tried. He was too quiet, not very assertive and certainly not someone I would have ever thought of as a born leader. The only place he'd ever truly excelled was in his training. He may have been my rival, but even before everything happened, I recognized that he had talent, if only he'd had the balls to use it.

I guess I'd been wrong about him all along. I'd seen what he could do. I'd felt the sharp edge of his blade and once he'd hit his stride, he'd been formidable indeed. Squall come a long way, and I had to grudgingly respect that, even if I didn't like it.

The guard lead me to the headmaster's office and told me to sit down. I complied with his request and waited while he spoke with the receptionist, who was silently cursing me with her eyes from her side of the desk. I told myself I was used to it, but the fact was, I never got used to it. I hated being hated.

It felt like an eternity before Cid finally called me to his office. The guard was dismissed and I followed Cid inside the office, where he unlocked the handcuffs and motioned for me to sit.

"Seifer," Cid said. "You look well."

"Thank you, Sir," I replied.

He was lying, and I knew it. I could see it in his eyes but I chose not to call him on it.

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here."

"Yeah," I said.

"I have a...proposition for you," he said. "One I think you might like."

"A proposition?" I asked, wondering where this was going to lead. I didn't allow myself to hope for freedom or a life of my own. That would have been futile and pointless and just another disappointment I didn't want to have to face.

"I feel that you've been unfairly incarcerated," he said. "While the crimes you've been charged with are grievous, I suspect that you had little control over your actions. Am I correct in my assumptions?"

He was partially right, but as I said before, I had gone along with it in the beginning. "I wasn't coerced."

"Perhaps not," he cut in, "but the fact remains that at some point, you lost control of your actions. After reviewing the facts and getting the whole story from Edea, I feel you've served your time and you deserve another chance."

I stared at him. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Another chance? To do what? Become a SeeD? As far as I knew, I was well past the age limit, unless things had changed.

"No offense, Sir, but are you out of your mind?"

Cid laughed and shook his head. "Everyone thinks so, but no. I haven't lost it. At least, not yet."

"Then why?"

"Because I believe you were a confused kid who made some bad choices, not the cold hearted monster the media has made you out to be."

I felt the first stirrings of hope and pushed them back and out of my mind. I couldn't allow myself to feel anything but cold acceptance of my situation. "So what is it that you want from me?" I asked.

Cid tapped his pen against the desk top and leaned back in his chair. "Instructor Ngyen retired at the end of last semester. You may remember him."

I did. He had been the resident gunblade instructor, and a cranky old bastard, but he was good at what he did. Taught me everything I knew. Taught Squall everything he knew, for that matter.

I nodded and Cid continued. "Being that Squall can not assume Ngyen's duties and we have not found a replacement, I am now short one gunblade instructor, and with sixteen current students and nine more enrolling for next term, that leaves us in a precarious position. I need a skilled replacement, and soon. Someone who's mastered the craft."

Somehow, I knew he wanted me to be Ngyen's replacement. The hope I'd been denying myself suddenly surged to the forefront and I had to fight to control myself. I didn't want him to know how much I longed for my freedom, even if it was in a place where I'd be hated by everyone around me. Of course, anywhere I went, I'd be hated, even in prison. Better to be hated and free, than hated where everyone can see you, all the time.

"You may not know this, but Squall has recently extended the age limit for service as a SeeD from twenty-one to thirty-five. He felt that it was a waste to train students, and then send them off to work for Galbadia while they were still in their prime. And, while technically, you have passed the age limit to become a SeeD, we are willing to make a special exception in your case."

I stared at him, unsure of what to say.

"All you have left is the field exam, am I correct?" he asked.

"Yes, but-" I hedged.

"I see no need of making you take the exam again. You've proved to me your abilities ten times over," he said. "So, from this day forward, you are officially a SeeD."

I could only stare at him in shock. This was the last thing I expected.

"Which brings me to the offer I spoke of earlier," he said. "We want you to get your instructor's licensee and take over Ngyen's duties in exchange for your...assistance with a troublesome little project. You can think of it as community service if you wish. Of course, if this plan isn't to your liking, you're welcome to serve your prescribed term of incarceration in the brig, under the watchful eye of your good friend Fujin. No pun intended," he said with a sheepish grin.

Was he kidding? He didn't honestly think I'd choose jail over freedom, no matter how menial the task he had in store for me was. He could tell me I'd be teaching Moombas to read, or spending my free time shoveling chocobo shit at the Choco Ranch and I wouldn't have cared. At that moment, my freedom was worth whatever price he put on it.

I tried to control my excitement and asked casually what the project was.

"Selphie Tilmitt has just been assigned the daunting task of setting up the new Student Affairs Department. She's working with very little money and very little support, so she'll need assistance to get it off the ground. She's agreed to help you study for your instructor's licensee in exchange for your help putting it all together."

I felt like someone had just handed me a million Gil and I didn't know what to do with it. I'd just been granted my freedom, and I was only being asked to do a few small things in return. It was a sweet deal, even if it defied logic. I imagined the press was going to have a field day with this once word got out that the root of all evil, me, had been set free to warp young and impressionable minds as he saw fit. I wondered if Cid was prepared for that. Then I decided, I didn't care. I was free!

"One thing, Seifer. If you screw up, you'll spend the rest of your life in the brig, understood?"

"Fair enough," I agreed.

"Good. Then we're agreed," Cid said, satisfied. "Your classes begin Monday. You can pick up a copy of your schedule and your books from the registrar. I've taken the liberty of putting you in the accelerated courses."

I nodded. I was familiar with the procedure, though I didn't like the idea of fast tracking my studies. I'd never been a good student. Mostly because I didn't spend much time hitting the books. I'd had more important things to do back then. Like torment underclassmen and figure out how to smuggle alcohol into my dorm.

"You're to report to Selphie first thing tomorrow," he said and wrote down the location of her office. "You are to think of her as your mentor. While she's no longer an instructor due to her new assignment, she will prove very helpful to you in your studies."

"And just how long am I supposed to assist her?" I asked, for clarification.

"I suppose for as long as she needs you," Cid said. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "But make no mistake, Seifer. While she may appear to be easy-going, she has been instructed to be strict with you. I will not accept any slacking on your part and I expect you to toe the line from here on out. Your future here depends on it."

Again, I agreed. He was beating a dead horse, but I kept my mouth shut.

"As far as privileges, for now you will be restricted to the grounds. Once you've earned your licensee and have proven to me that you can behave yourself, you'll be given the same rights as any other instructor on staff. You do still have a substantial amount of Gil left in your old student account, and I suspect you'll be needing a few things, so I've arranged for Selphie to escort you to Balamb tomorrow afternoon," he said. "As far as lodging is concerned, our instructors in training usually stay in dorms just like SeeDs, however because enrollment is at an all time high, I have no choice but to house you in the staff apartments. It's probably for the best given the circumstances, but I'm sure you'll find the accommodations quite comfortable."

He placed in front of me a key card and a new ID badge that identified me as Seifer Almasy, Instructor in Training.

The keys to my freedom.

I picked them up carefully, as though they might disintegrate in my hands.

Grateful is not a big enough word for what I was feeling. I'd literally been set free. Oh, sure, they expected something of me, and I'd be limited to the grounds for a while, but that was fine. After spending three years living in a five by eight cell where I couldn't even take a leak without being watched, I would have done anything they asked in exchange for my freedom. I'd have kissed Cid's bare ass if he'd asked me to.

The thing was, I'd long ago given up any hope of being able to finish out the rest of my life like everyone else. I'd given up hope of getting the chance to repay my debt to society, not that anything I did would be enough. Now that I'd been set free, I didn't know to feel.

I harbored no illusions that the road ahead of me would be easy. For one thing, despite my talent in the training center, I'd been a poor student. I managed to scrape by when I had to, but I'd never made any extra efforts to excel in the classroom. My study habits had been nonexistent. Add to that the fact that I hadn't touched a gunblade in over three years, and I had a recipe for a long, hard journey laced with frustration and long sleepless nights.

On top of all this was the knowledge that everywhere I went, I'd be met with dissent. At every bend in the road, I'd be persecuted, my every action questioned, and if I blew it, it was back in chains for me. It would be easy to say that I'd follow all the rules and be on my best behavior. Believe me, I wanted to, but I also have a pretty bad temper. It's not in my nature to back down from a fight (though time spent in prison had taken some of that out of me), and I had a bad feeling that my resolve to remain a free man would be tested. I knew there had to be a lot of people here who would have liked nothing more to see me thrown in the brig for the rest of my life, and who could blame them? I knew that there would be some people who'd do anything to make that happen. I just hoped that I could control myself when confronted with these situations which I knew I wouldn't be able to avoid.

Before I left the office, Cid gave me clothing to change into - khaki cargo pants and a white T-shirt, so that I wouldn't have to walk the halls in the bright orange prison uniform. I was grateful for his foresight. Otherwise, I might as well have pinned a target on my chest and let them take turns practicing their aim.

Once I'd changed, Cid had Xu show me to my new room. Along the way, she reminded me of the Garden Code of Conduct. Curfew, dress code, attendance. I already knew them all, having once been the captain of the Disciplinary Committee, the enforcer feared by all. I could have recited them to her verbatim if she'd asked me to. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and followed her to the second floor.

She stopped in front of what was to be my room for ever how long I could manage to behave myself and she gave me a cold, appraising look.

"You're here because of Cid. Not everyone agreed with his decision, you know," she said.

"I'm sure of that," I said, taking great care to keep any emotion from showing in my face or my voice. Xu was the last person I wanted to piss off right now.

"But," she said and flashed a ironic smile, "you will find that there are a few people who still believe in you. Not everyone here is your enemy."

I raised an eyebrow at her and wondered who she might be talking about. I knew she wasn't talking about herself. She'd always hated me and I could tell that hadn't changed. It probably never would. I'd never liked her much either, so I was cool with that, but I wondered why she was telling me this. She could have cared less if there was anyone on my side. In fact, I was pretty sure it would make her whole year to see me crash and burn.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside the place I'd call home from now on. When Cid said it was an apartment, he hadn't been lying. While it wasn't overly large, it was comfortable, especially compared to, you know, a five by eight prison cell.

The living area was tastefully decorated in shades of cream and chocolate, with big, comfortable looking couches. The entire place was furnished with every convenience imaginable, and when I opened the fridge, I saw it had been stocked full of healthy foods. There was even a pound of coffee in the pantry.

"Cid will have the rest of your things sent up," Xu said and opened the blinds.

"What things?" I asked. I didn't have anything that belonged to me anymore.

"From before," she said simply. She turned away from the window and walked to the door. She paused in the doorway and said, "Welcome home, Seifer, and good luck."

She just had to throw it in there, didn't she?

III

I spent about an hour inspecting my new apartment, still in shock over the fact that, within limits, I was a free man. It was humbling to know that someone had thought me worthy of reform after all that had happened.

I knew that when they looked at me, they saw who I used to be. They didn't know that three years in prison changed a man in ways they couldn't even imagine. I wasn't a kid anymore.

I knew that there would be those that, no matter what I did, would always see me as a deranged killer and I accepted that. It was the ones that saw potential in me that I found troublesome. For the first time in my life, I was afraid I was going to disappoint someone, and that bothered me. I saw the opportunity I'd been handed. This was my chance to be one of the good guys. A chance to be a better person. They were the ones I had to impress, not those that wouldn't change their mind, no matter how much good I did in the world.

A knock at the door startled me out of my thoughts and I peered through the peep hole to see who my visitor was. There was a flash of vivid yellow, then a pair of intense green eyes peering back at me.

To my surprise, it was the Messenger Girl.

I hadn't really known Selphie Tilmitt. She'd only been at Garden a few days when the whole thing started, but I remembered that she was cute and perky and fearless. I wasn't sure if I was ready for cute and perky, but I opened the door anyway.

"Hi," she said and flashed me a thousand watt grin. She walked right in without being invited and cried, "Welcome home!"

Obviously one of my supporters, I thought, somewhat amused.

"I'm sooo excited that we'll be working together. You don't know how long I've been asking Cid for some help getting the Student Center off the ground, but now that you're here, I've got all kinds of plans," she said. "My dream is to finally have a Garden Festival. There just hasn't been the time or the money to do it, but now I'll be doing this full time, and I have so many plans! Fundraisers of all kinds. What do you think? You know, I'm really glad your back. I never thought you were a bad guy, just confused or something. Anyway, I just thought I'd drop by and say hello."

Perky was the wrong word for Selphie Tilmitt. I wasn't sure there was a word to describe what she was. I found myself at a loss in her presence, and I imagined what my life was going to be like from this point on. I hoped she wasn't like this all the time. My greatest fear was that I'd be sent to the brig for brawling, but I guessed the bigger challenge would be getting through this without choking her to death.

"Aren't you happy to be back?" she continued. "You're lucky they gave you an apartment. It's so much nicer than the dorms, don't you think? I love mine. It's all yellow, which is my favorite color in the whole world."

"I would never have guessed," I said sarcastically, then admonished myself for not being able to keep my smart ass comments to myself. I was going to have to work with her, which meant in order to keep things peaceful, I'd have to mind my mouth, for a change. Otherwise, I was going to end up back in prison.

She grinned and patted me on the arm. "Well, if you need anything, I'm right next door," she said. "Gotta run. Congratulations and good luck!"

Once she was gone, I flopped down on the couch and sighed. I felt exhausted in her wake. Was this my punishment? Was I really going to have to tolerate this for the next few months, because truth be told, I didn't think I could handle it. She was going to drive me out of my mind.

Sure, it was nice to know that at least one person besides Cid was glad to have me around, but I decided I would rather have her hate me. Maybe then, she'd just leave me alone and let me do what I had to do. I wondered if Cid had done this on purpose. I wondered if he knew I'd have a harder time dealing with her than fending off attacks from those that wanted me dead. I was starting to think I'd made a huge mistake.

I will tell you that before this, I'd been offered another deal, one that had been hard to turn down. A few months earlier, I'd been approached by Jorjan Deling, Commander of the Galbadian Army. I'd known him, during the war for a brief time, and he'd been a capable leader. The troops had liked him, and had looked up to him. Anyway, he'd proposed that, in exchange for limited freedom, I would serve in the Galbadian Army under his supervision.

He was the son of Vinzer Deling, and while he had the support and respect of the people, unlike his father, there was something about him that wasn't quite right. I hadn't been able to pin it down, but my general impression of him was that of a wolf masquerading as a moomba. There was a reason he wanted me, and I wanted no part of whatever he may have had up his sleeve. Besides. I have no interest in being a part of an organization known more for ineptitude than valor.

Now I was regretting my decision to turn down his offer.

IV

I was amazed how much I'd taken for granted when I'd been a free man, like being able to take a shower alone, for example. I think that first shower was the best I'd ever had in my life, though I kept expecting someone to say, "Hurry it up, Almasy. This ain't a spa."

And coffee. I hadn't had coffee in three years, nor had I been allowed to eat with a fork.

You may not think these things are a big deal, but I promise you, spend a few years in the pokey and you'd get a thrill from being allowed to put on your underwear without being watched.

Me? I was having trouble believing I was actually free. Every time I glanced at the wall, I was startled not to see iron bars and cinderblock.

V

Some time after sunset, Squall paid me a visit. He was the last person I expected to see. Well, other than Zell that is. I somehow doubted the Chicken-wuss would drop by to welcome me home. Squall, however, may have been obligated, being that he was commander and all.

When I opened the door, he didn't say anything, just stood there sizing me up for a moment. From his posture alone, I could tell how much he'd changed. That shy, brooding kid I'd known was long gone. In his place stood a man who was absolutely sure of himself and of everything he did. He had that air of cool confidence that you only see in those who are certain of who they are, and his presence was as commanding as President Caraway himself. I had trouble reconciling that quiet kid with the man that stood before me, but there was no mistaking that this was the same guy.

"I just stopped by to drop off your gunblade," he said. "Figured you'd want to start training as soon as possible."

I hadn't even noticed the case in his hand and it was indeed mine. I would have been able to identify my blade case anywhere, what with all the metal band and skull stickers all over it. I couldn't believe they'd saved it. I hadn't seen it since I'd been arrested and I had long ago given up hope of ever seeing it again.

I took it from him, laid the case down on the table and popped the latch. Hyperion lay nestled inside, the same as I remembered her.

"Hello, old friend," I said to the blade as I ran my finger along it's blunted edge. "Did you miss me?"

Squall was still standing in the doorway so I invited him in, figuring, what the hell. He'd just done me a favor, and though I didn't know where we stood with one another anymore, it might help to make nice with the guy. After all, eventually, I'd be working for him. Which, by the way, would have been an impossibility three years ago.

He stepped in a few paces, shut the door and then leaned against the fridge, arms crossed and looking a little amused. He watched silently as I took the blade from the case and tested her weight in my hand. She felt exactly the same as I remembered, as if it had only been days and not years since I'd last held her.

"Hope you don't mind," Squall said, "but I tried it out once."

I should have been pissed about that, but I wasn't. I'd always had a secret desire to try out Griever and I would have done the same if I had the chance. I couldn't blame him.

"Not it. She," I said and inspected the cutting edge. Someone had sharpened her in preparation for my arrival. "How'd you like her?"

"Not bad," he said. "I still prefer a two handed blade."

I smirked. "You always did."

It was strange to be standing there, chatting with Squall as if we were old friends. We weren't. As far as I could recall we'd never been. I'd been too much of a show off and a bully for that. Still, I wondered which side he'd been on when the vote was taken regarding my fate.

"How's Rinoa?" I asked casually as I took a close look at the barrel. Someone had oiled her recently.

"She's good," Squall said. "She's an instructor now. Teaches Sorceress Theory."

How appropriate.

"Heard you guys got hitched," I said and placed Hyperion back into her case. "When did you walk that plank?"

"Two years ago," Squall said.

I smirked at him. "How sweet."

He raised an eyebrow at me and smirked back. "Sweeter than you know."

"Give her my regards," I said.

"You might want to thank her when you see her," Squall said, giving me a pointed look. "If not for her, you'd still be rotting away in E-District."

I stared at him, unable to believe what I'd heard. Rinoa had vouched for me? After what I'd done to her? That was the last thing I'd expected. If anything, I'd have figured Rinoa would have been one of my strongest opponents. She had every reason in the world to hate me, yet she'd stuck up for me? Why, I wondered.

Squall smirked at me again and reached for the doorknob. "See you around, Seifer."

VI

Selphie stood in the middle of her new office and looked around at the piles and piles of junk everywhere. Somewhere, underneath the dusty boxes, stacked almost floor to ceiling, were desks, and she could make out a book case against one wall. Even though it was a total mess, there were definite possibilities here. All it needed was to be cleaned out, and maybe painted a cheerier shade. Banana would look good. Or maybe lemon cream. Then, she'd put up a great big calendar to remind her of all the up coming events. She'd already posted a sign up sheet for volunteers in the library, the cafeteria, the registrar's office and in the dorms. So far, no one had signed up, but she knew that would change, once they heard about all her plans.

She sighed happily and poked through one of the boxes next to the door. There was nothing in it of interest, so she turned her attention to the Ping-Pong table leaning against the wall. It was dusty, but in good repair. She could put it in the activities room, which used to be the preschool. That room was nearly empty, since it's contents had been transferred to the new building behind Garden. There were a few things that had been left behind, though none of them terribly useful. A handful of broken toys. A poster of the food groups. Cracked plastic bins.

It didn't matter. With Seifer's help, this place would be a smashing success. She just hoped he'd be cooperative.

She thought about him as she dusted the bookshelf with an old fleece blanket she'd found in the closet. He looked awful, like he hadn't had a good night's sleep in years, which, she realized he probably hadn't. It was more than that, though. He looked haunted, and older than twenty-two. She supposed it was to be expected. After all, he had to live with the fact that he'd killed a lot of people and the knowledge that everyone hated him. If he cared at all about what he'd been involved with, then he carried around a ton of guilt

Well, not everyone hated him, but most people did. Selphie just felt sorry for him. Nobody seemed to understand that he hadn't been to blame for the things that had happened. And it was all over and done with now. There was no fixing it. No taking it back. Time to move on. Maybe with her help, Seifer would be able to pick himself up, dust himself off and do something good in the world.

She couldn't wait to get started.

Wench of Diablos' notes:

Welcome to the "I Hate Everything About You" revision! The first few chapters of the original story was posted here about a year and a half ago but never finished for various reasons. It was met with some criticism, as well as some praise, but the original version left a lot to be desired. With the help of PodSara, who agreed to Beta read, we were able to make this story into one that we both really like and are both really proud of. It's not just my baby anymore, we're both involved in this one now, so, though my name is on this as the author, let it be known that PodSara did as much writing as I did and took it in directions I would never have even imagined. For starters, the new opening is almost completely her doing, and I absolutely love it. So thank her too, for helping me with this project and for encouraging me to not give up on it.

PodSara's Notes:

I hope that we've done well enough a job that you will not be able to tell the difference between who wrote what section. We've tried really hard to make it nearly seamless. We've worked very hard on this, so we hope you're not disappointed if you were a fan of the original post. We think it's better this way, and hope you do too.