Three Sheets to the Wind

The expanse of an old dock stretched out before him. He could feel the mist of the sea on his face—the strong sun warming his skin, and a comforting wind encircling him. He looked ahead in the distance and saw a shadow of someone, and a feeling of comfort overcame him in a sudden wave.

Behind him, he heard a humming—a song he could recognize, but the melody was distant in his mind. When he turned to find the source the sky went dark, and a deep foreboding sunk into his bones.

The air around him grew cold, and as the stars burned brighter and stood out starkly against the night sky, he realized that he was standing among them. It was dark, empty and lonely—his chest ached for the warmth of the sun and the comforting wind.

The solitude was brief—a dark figure in the svelte shape of a woman manifested before him, some distance away.

"Boy," she cooed, as she began to float towards him. "I've been waiting."

Waiting waiting wating … the word echoed around him. He shivered.

"Boy," the voice said again mockingly, laughing. "Are you afraid? You'll have no fear soon enough."

She floated closer and he stepped backward a few paces slowly.

"Who are you? What do you want from me?" He cried out, panicking as the dark visage began to cackle.

"Boy," she taunted once again, her voice edged with anger. "You can't out-run me. You are fated to be mine."

The air grew cold, and he turned from her, running farther down the dock. He could feel her floating closer, laughing as he quickened his pace. His feet plunked and scraped against the weathered boards—his legs vibrated and felt weaker with each step.

At the end of the dock, a bright white light emerged, with white wings of wind outstretched—it commanded him to run. Without hesitation he sprinted towards it, but the dock seemed to grow longer with each step he took—he couldn't get close enough. The dark woman screeched behind him.

"This knight is mine. You're too young my dear, and too weak. You've just been born."

The dock began to quake and crack beneath his feet, with planks pulling apart to show slits of night sky. He tried to move faster, but the boards ripped and bent with a horrifying screech, and he fell between the spaces. He screamed but heard nothing. He was convinced this was the end.

But as the figure behind him approached and his body began to slip downward into the chasm of space, the white wind stretched toward him and enveloped him, pulling him from the docks and towards the bright light.

"Fools!" The dark woman screeched, just over his shoulder. "I'll find you!" He could feel her claws pulling at his back. But it was too late. The wind and its wings were encircling him and pulling him into an untouchable safe harbor in eye of the storm. Overwhelming relief and comfort washed over him.

"No matter, my knight. I'll find you!" The dark woman shrieked. "You can't run."

Seifer Almasy shot up in bed, drenched in sweat. He'd had that dream again, with light and darkness dueling, and him being torn apart in the middle. He was angry to once again wake up before figuring out what the winged savior was—he always wound up in the eye of a storm, with the bright light shining above him, but he never managed to dream long enough to see the next part.

Sighing, he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He swore these dreams were worse in the heat. He looked over to the window and found that it was closed, most likely by one of his traveling comrades asleep in the same room.

Pulling his sheet around his waist, he stood to walk towards the window and parted the curtains to get a look at the sky—not a single star. No matter how many time he stayed there, Dollet always gave him the creeps at night and he never quite knew why. But, it was a convenient summer escape from Balamb Garden, and Hyne knows he could use some space from that place.

Maybe it wasn't the heat that woke him, as he registered a sudden sharp pain beginning to form in his head. He touched two fingers to his temple, wincing.

Too much whisky.

Seifer turned to survey the room. His bronze comrade Raijin was asleep on one of the hotel room's double-beds, gently snoring. He could vaguely remember Raijin grabbing a girl and ducking out early on them, leaving Fujin on duty to manage Seifer; it had been that way almost all summer, which was no easy task after he failed the SeeD exam. Most nights had consisted of heavy drinking, high bar tabs, getting into some minor scrapes with locals, making some inappropriately timed (and maybe just entirely inappropriate) passes at people, and stumbling into bed. It had been quite a vacation so far …

Speaking of people he'd made inappropriate passes at this summer, he noted that Fujin was nowhere to be found in the room. Seifer peered at Raijin's bed, unable to spot their pale friend. He then looked to his own mattress, already knowing that she wouldn't be found there …

With panic building in him, his eyes darted around the room as he sought for her pallid body in the wan light. Why wasn't she here? Had he left her alone in the Dollet streets to fend for herself? Had something happened to her? Raijin would kill him … which would be fine because he'd probably want to be dead anyway.

A mix of relief and guilt overcame him when his eyes finally settled on her, safe from the dangers of Dollet. Why was he overacting? She was a well-trained murderer of men—of course she could handle herself in Dollet … Hyne, Fujin even outranked him now.

She was asleep on the floor between the two hotel beds, using Seifer's white trench coat as a blanket. Apparently, he and Raijin forgot about her comfort entirely. In Seifer's defense, he'd had a lot to drink—he couldn't even remember coming home. He futilely tried to piece together the events of the evening, giving up quickly and running his hand over his face to feel the scruffy beginnings of a beard. He should probably wake her up and switch places. Poor Fuu, always getting the short-end of the stick in their rooming situations.

Seifer turned from the window to walk towards her, needing to adjust the sheet as he stepped on one of the corners. It was only then that he realized he was, in fact, wearing nothing but a sheet. He'd apparently been so drunk that he couldn't even be contained by clothing. He chuckled a little. That must have been one hell of a show—shit is really getting out-of-hand lately.

He searched for any piece of his clothing in the dark, tilting a chair and lightly shoving an ottoman aside. He inspected the side of the bed that Fujin wasn't occupying, and then scrutinized the area around her to find that she was sleeping on top of all of his clothes, any of Raijin's discarded clothes she could find, and a couple of the extra pillows from his bed.

Touché Fuu, he chuckled. Things really were a mess in here. He was only a little proud … a shameful sort of proud.

Seifer pulled the sheet tightly around himself and slid down next to her. When she slept she looked so peaceful … which was a nice change from the stoic front she put on for most people. Not for him, but for most people. He was one of the lucky few allowed to see the soft side of her—most people would assume she didn't have one. Wouldn't they be shocked to know that when he'd failed the SeeD exam this year, Fujin was the one to comfort him? And all these nights this summer, when Raijin was out pursuing some evening conquest and Seifer had too much to drink and "sort've put everything out there" (as he'd shamefully called it when apologizing to her the next day for being a wuss) about the nightmares he'd been having, and his fear of failure, Fujin was there for him. She'd always been there for him.

Let's not think about that right now. He urged himself to brush those thoughts aside, the events from these past few days replaying in his mind briefly. The rejection still stung a little … probably because his feelings had been honest.

Seifer put his hand on her shoulder, and shook her gently.

"Fuu," he whispered. She groggily opened her eyes, her silver hair obscuring her view.

"Ugh, what time is it?" She whispered, leaning up a bit as she searched for his face in the dark and took in the sight of the large mound that was Raijin still asleep in the bed next to them. "How are you even awake right now? I thought you'd be passed out for at least a week with the way you drank tonight."

"Well, sorry—you're not that lucky." He smiled, his hand still on her shoulder. "I have no clue what time it is. I don't even remember how I got back here." Seifer noticed she was eyeing the sheet draped around his waist. "Oh, and you're also bogarting every single piece of clothing I own."

"Uggggggggh," she groaned. "WHY WAKE?" She was definitely not in a good mood. He must have done something tonight that had made her mad. That was pretty common these days, with the way he was acting.

"You know I hate it when you talk like that around me," Seifer grimaced.

"WELL," Fujin shot back sharply. "WHY WAKE?"

Quiet fell upon them again as he stared down at her and she stared past him, seemingly at nothing.

"Yikes. Okay. Look, I can't really remember tonight. But, I'm sorry in advance for whatever it was that I—" She cut him off abruptly.

"WORRY NOT." Fujin sank back down to her makeshift bed and rolled onto her back to stare up at the ceiling, throwing his hand off her shoulder and pulling his coat up to her chin. There was something on the collar Seifer couldn't make out—a red stain of some kind. Hyne knows. "NOTHING WRONG. FINE NIGHT."

What in Hyne's name?

"Hey, come on, Fuu—stop it. Don't be mad at me." Fujin scoffed at his comment but didn't respond otherwise. "Whatever it was that made you mad, you know I didn't mean it. I never do when it comes to you."

"I KNOW … you don't ever mean it." Her voice was soft and distant, and she turned her head to look at him. Her features lost their hard edge when her eyes met his gaze. "I know you."

Seifer wasn't sure what she meant, so instead of pressing it he opted to flash her his classic charming smile—the one that always seemed to get him out of trouble—as he ran his hand through his hair casually. "Fuck. I have the worst headache I've ever had, I think."

"You earned it." He could tell Fujin meant he deserved it.

Seifer caught her glancing at the slipping sheet and his lack of clothing, and even with the small amount of light the moon provided, he could see her cheeks flush a little. Normally Seifer would at least tease her about scrutinizing him in a disrobed state. But not knowing how to read her mood just yet, he opted not to speak on it—he committed the gratifying stolen glance to memory instead.

"Well, I don't want to keep you up. Let's switch spots," he motioned for her to get up. "Unless you want to share?"

"HA," Fujin scoffed, not budging from her nook on the floor. "No, I don't. I'm fine here. Don't trouble yourself."

Don't trouble yourself? So formal. Shit. He must have fucked up tonight.

"No seriously, just take the bed. It's the least I can do…"

"Seifer—FINE RIGHT HERE. I don't need any favors." His face twisted in confusion at the intrusion of her vacillating speech pattern, once again. Now he was just getting irritated.

"Fujin, just take it," he sighed. "We don't have to make it a thing. I know I'm an asshole and you can be mad at me for as long as you want about ... whatever it is that you're mad about … but Hyne, chivalry isn't dead."

"Chivalry?" Fujin scoffed. "Fine, Seifer. Whatever you want. It's always about you anyway." She sat up and defiantly started unburying herself from the bed of clothing she'd created.

"What in-the-actual-fuck, Fujin?" His voice was riddled with disbelief and growing louder by the minute. "I'm just trying to be nice—cut me some slack."

"Shhhh!" She held out her hand and pointed emphatically at Raijin. "NEED WAKE EVERYONE? … SLACK? SELFISH." She whispered, as she tossed his coat from her body. Seifer ran his hand over his face and groaned impatiently, unable to stop himself from uttering words he knew he shouldn't go near right now.

"Look ... is this about us?" He looked over to find Fujin rendered motionless and staring at him wide-eyed, clearly shocked that he'd brought it up. "Because … I mean if anyone is going to feel a certain way about that it should probably be me. I don't know what you're all bent out of shape about." She said nothing, and he pressed on—it was either a perfect opportunity to save face, or a terrible time to pour salt on a fresh wound. "Besides, it didn't really mean anything, anyway."

Fujin just continued to stare at him for a moment—her eyes, one fiery red and one sapphire blue, blankly fixed on his own. Seifer was sure she was wracking her brain for a witty response, but as minutes seemed to pass … nothing came, and a palpable discomfort settled in the space between them.

Regret weighed heavy in his chest when Fujin's brow furrowed and she ulocked her gaze from his. She grew restless, sitting up straighter and clearing her throat, and her eyes darted around the room to look at anything but him. Her pale fingers began to nervously drum on the carpeted floor—a coping mechanism of hers that she employed when she'd been thrown off-balance, and was trying to refocus.

Salt. Definitely salt.

"Great, well ... thanks for making that clear, Seifer." Fujin spoke the words curtly and quickly, a combination she didn't use with him often. She scrambled to her feet and readied to leave. To where, he wasn't sure.

Seifer's finely honed combat reflexes kicked in to stop her, before he even realized he didn't want her to leave. He shot his hand out to grab her ankle, no strategy in place … all he knew was that he couldn't say something like that to her and just leave it. He was embarrassed about what had happened the other night, whatever happened tonight, what he'd just said, and any night he couldn't just keep it together. He needed to salvage this ... no need to ruin everything in one night. He'd grown so accustomed to doing that, he almost wasn't sure how not to.

He stared up at her as his hand slid to her calf—his desperate grip pressing into the muscle he found there, unintentionally harder than what was probably considered okay for anyone but a fellow seasoned soldier. She winced at the pressure and looked as if she going to attempt to shake free, but stopped herself knowing that a quick reaction would only cause more pain.

"Let go," Fujin whispered, lacking the commanding tone the statement should've had as something shifted within her. She sounded defeated—something Fujin rarely was— and Seifer felt lower than low.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head at his own actions and relaxing his grip a bit. "I don't know why I just said that. It's not true. I'm just … being a dick." He said the words through clenched teeth, angry at himself for hitting below the belt again, and disappointed at being this vulnerable. For coming to her again with these sorts of thoughts, hat-in-hand, no defenses. But if it was a choice between embarrassing himself, or flat-out losing her because of his fucking pride … he'd take the shame any day.

Fujin only stared at the floor—his confession only seeming to make things worse. Seifer wondered if she was disappointed with the reality of what he was. Often cold, almost always destructive, impetuous, and always an asshole when he didn't need to be.

"Just take the bed, Fuu." His thumb drew a circle on her skin lightly. "Don't make me a fool and a beggar all in one night." No need to remind himself that he was essentially already begging—his desperate tone and his hold on her calf were giving him away.

For reasons he couldn't begin to wrap his mind around, Fujin quietly complied. She slid away from him, letting his hand fall to the floor as she disappeared to the bed under the blankets.

He adjusted the makeshift mattress of clothing and pillows she'd created to better fit his six-foot frame, a little irritated she'd just wordlessly shuffled off to bed. Did she not just blow off another full-throated proclamation of his? Why he'd even bothered to wake her up was beyond him. It didn't really make sense—she'd slept in worse places. But … if he were being honest with himself, it was only because he'd had that terrible dream and he wanted to see her. He was selfish. She had it right. She always had it right.

Giving up on being comfortable, he pushed the clothing pile aside and started to pull his trench over himself—he'd sleep directly on the fucking floor. As he swept the white coat over his body, a small, bright piece of paper fell from the pocket. It was a business card from the local bar they'd been frequenting, with writing all over it.

He picked it up and squinted in the darkness to read the messily scrawled letters on the back through a deep red lipstick mark left on it by whomever had given it to him. That same lipstick stained the collar of his coat, which he now had a good view of. "Loved every second of tonight Seifer—call me soon! - Xxxxx Rinoa." Her phone number was written along the edge—a little heart drawn over the 'i" in her name. And suddenly, snippets of the night's events came rushing back.

Too much whiskey to forget recent events with Fujin. A beautiful brunette at the bar wearing a blue shirt with white wings on the back. Wings … maybe like his dreams? He'd been curious, and it provided a thin excuse to exact revenge on Fuu. She was someone ... important ... he couldn't remember exactly why. Her name, apparently, was Rinoa.

She was from Deling, he remembered. She'd been impressed that he was at Garden ... he'd even told her he was in SeeD, which obviously wasn't true. She was hanging on him, kissing his neck, asking him to dance. Seifer refused that activity but not the general invitation. Raijin was off doing his own thing. Fujin kept her distance from them on the opposite side of the bar.

Seifer had felt momentarily guilty, but in his childish anger he made himself put Fujin out of his mind. He couldn't remember even speaking to her all night. He spotted her a handful of times, ignoring a few aggressive locals (he kept an eye on those pricks). They had all walked back to the hotel together, and, regrettably, he was pretty sure he'd used Fujin as a punchline to impress his new friend. Rinoa had a room there … and he went back with her … and he and Fujin parted ways. Nothing had happened, he wasn't even sure why he went. And somehow, later in the night, he made his way back here to Fujin ... where he really wanted to be. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Fuu …" Seifer whispered as he rose up from the floor. No response.

"Fujin." Silence. Was she asleep already?

He leaned closer to the bed, and was alarmed by the sound of labored breathing—the masking of tears. She wasn't just angry … she was hurt. He couldn't believe he didn't remember everything until just now. He would have done this all so differently…

His heart began to race and pound in his ears—he didn't even know why. It's not like they were anything—Hyne, he hadn't cheated on her. It's not like his confessions had made anything more definitive, or clear.

But still … the guilt crept up on him. He'd betrayed her.

"I…just realized what happened tonight—shit, I mean nothing happened tonight, really." Seifer stopped himself. Probably hearing more about it right now wouldn't help. And saying 'happened' just sounded like it was a casual accident. 'Whoops, I definitely maybe briefly thought about sleeping with someone while we're trying to figure out the shit we may or may not have ... my bad.' This situation was a mess. He wasn't very good at this sort've thing, not having much practice caring about the feelings of others. He tried again.

"I ... I didn't think … I mean, I wasn't thinking about you." He saw her flinch. "No! I mean, I always think about you, Fuu." Pick up a shovel, Seifer. You're digging your own grave tonight. He reached over to place his hand on her shoulder.

"AWAY," Fujin demanded quietly through the tears she was still pretending weren't happening, and flinched again under his touch.

His heart, what little of it was accessible for anyone else to affect, ached. The last thing he ever imagined happening was her recoiling when he touched her.

"Fuu—I'm not going anywhere." Seifer spoke softly as a lump formed in his throat. He sat up straighter and leaned over her, gripping her shoulder again and not allowing the flinch that followed to drive him off. "I meant everything I said to you these past couple of days. Every word of it." Fujin was crying now, hard—something he'd never seen before. He could feel her shaking. He'd made a terrible mistake.

"Just stop! Stop saying these things!" Her voice cracked, and she began to sob. Out of the corner of his eye, Seifer saw Raijin moving in the dark, quietly tip-toeing around to find something to wear so he could make an exit—they'd woken him up, and he was very wisely retreating. Seifer nodded in thanks as their friend passed by him—his lips pressed together in a thin, disapproving line—and slipped quietly out of the room to give them space.

"This is exactly why I told myself I wouldn't do this." Fujin said aloud as the door closed. An onslaught of sobs stopped her from saying more. That was the closest she'd come to saying anything about what was happening between them … since the words they'd exchanged and the few moments they'd shared. Seifer didn't press for more—he didn't like the sound of it.

"Okay Fujin, shhhh. I'll stop." He was up on his knees now, the sheet around him falling into a forgotten bundle on the floor as he bent over her at the waist. He brought his hand to her face, wiping a salty tear from the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry. Please, don't cry. You'll kill me if you keep that up." So much for not making the begging obvious.

Something about his touch and his pleading made her body relax. The sobs stopped, and the tears only continued on silently. Surely he could do better than that. He put aside his childish concerns of how it would look if he showed weakness, and crawled onto the bed next to her. A boy would let her cry, but a man would control his own destiny and try to fix it.

"Seifer, don't. I'm too tired to fight with you." Fujin whispered into the dark, her voice sounding small and distant.

"Then don't fight me." Seifer draped an arm over her to pulled her into a tight embrace and felt her body wrench with grief at the bittersweet feeling. He knew it wasn't just tonight doing this to her. It had been everything. Years of watching him with other people, seemingly oblivious to her existence—she'd probably given up on him a while ago. Him dipping his toe in the waters (and then seemingly jumping into a different pool soon after) was probably horrifying, when you thought about it that way.

Seifer moved to brush strands of silver hair behind her ear, and realized the business card was still in his hand. He held it out in front of them both.

"I know you said to stop, and I will, but you need to listen to me." He flipped the card in a circle between his fingers to emphasize his flippancy towards it. "I don't know what's been happening this year. These fucking dreams, failing the exam...I feel a little unhinged. I feel like I barely know myself anymore." He leaned in close to whisper in her ear. "But the one thing I know for sure is you. And this shit?" He held the card in two fingers, folded it in half, and flicked it into the dark. "This never means more to me than you do—okay? No matter what it looks like."

Fujin didn't reply, but when he rolled onto his back, she gave way to the tugging of his arms and allowed him to pull her with him. He drew her close, her head resting on his chest. Was she accepting his concession, or was she just waiting for the right moment to slip away from him?

Lying bare in the cool evening air and contemplating whether he'd won or lost the draw, Seifer was suddenly very aware that he was very naked. He was about to reach down to grab his long since discarded sheet from the floor, when Fujin pulled the edge of her blanket over him. She sighed shakily, and reluctantly wrapped a single leg over his own. He mirrored her sigh, thankful she wasn't bolting, and squeezed her tightly against him. So the battle hadn't been lost after all, he thought, as he kissed the top of her head and felt her shiver—it was a stalemate.