Three

When Squall woke, he didn't know where he was, but it wasn't the nightmare void of Time Compression. His body was weak and sore, as if he'd fought battles for days, and his eyes slid lazily over his surroundings for clues about where he might be.

Next to him, a monitor beeped a steady but annoying and intrusive rhythm. Stark white walls, a medicinal smell... a hospital?

On the other side of the bed, a figure slept soundly in a chair.

Not Liz.

Quistis.

His arms and legs were strapped to the bed rails with thick, padded restraints. Agitated, he struggled against them, unsure of why he was here, or why he was tied to the bed. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see his son.

Quistis stirred in her chair and sat up straight, looked him over, surprised to see him staring back at her.

"What the hell did you do?" he accused. "Take these off."

"Squall, you need to relax or they're going to tranquilize you again," she said. "Do you know why you're here?"

"You tell me."

She dragged her chair closer to his bedside and patted his cuffed hand. The pity in her eyes was infuriating, and Squall was sick of seeing that look on her face. Always trying to mother him, this one. Doing things for his own good. Telling him what to do.

Between Quistis and Liz, Squall was endlessly henpecked. Both of them were constantly after him about his sleeping habits, about the occasional skipped meal and the long hours he spent at the office. He just wanted to be left alone, and neither seemed capable of giving him a single moment of reprieve.

"You swallowed about thirty sleeping pills and chased it with a bottle of vodka," she said. "Do you remember that?"

His recollection was vague, but he did remember the pills. He swallowed a handful to make the shadow on the wall go away, to chase away the laughter of a phantom. All he wanted was to chase the constant torment of her ghost and her memory away, to kill the agony of her absence.

It didn't even make sense that after all this time that she still haunted him. He'd only been seventeen, and she was a girl he grew fond of, cared for, and then she was gone. Yet ten years later, he still heard her, still felt her, still longed for her so much he couldn't sleep at night, and he didn't understand why.

"I just wanted to sleep," he snapped.

"And you thought it would take thirty sleeping pills to do that?"

"I...I don't know."

Tears filled Quistis' eyes and her pity for him turned to sorrow. The late morning sunlight turned her honey-hued hair to molten gold and it blinded him.

All Squall's anger melted away and left him empty and scraped out on the inside as Quistis sat in her chair and wept quietly.

He didn't know what he intended when he took the pills. A peaceful night's sleep was first and foremost in his mind. The memory of it was a blur of hallucinations and phantoms and the insanity inducing tick, tick, tick, of the leaky faucet in the bathroom.

"Squall, you know we're here for you if you need us, right?" Quistis said. "We'll help you. All you have to do is ask."

"I'm fine."

"No you're not," she said. "You lied and said you were going to Esthar. You ate twice the amount of pills it would normally take to kill you. If Zell hadn't stopped in to check on your place, you'd be dead right now. You're not fine."

"What the hell was Zell doing in my apartment?"

"You should be grateful."

Squall wasn't grateful, but he wasn't ungrateful either. Death would leave Seth without a father, and that was the one thing Squall couldn't abide. His son was everything to him. Everything.

"I want to see my son," he said.

"Liz said she'd stop by, but I don't think she wants him to see you like this."

"I don't care what she wants. He's my son, too, and I want to see him."

"I can't promise anything, but I'll ask, okay?"

She rubbed her hands together and he could tell that there was something on her mind. She had that look on her face and he knew, whatever the news, it wasn't good.

"Out with it," he said.

"You need to know they're going to put you on psychiatric hold," Quistis said. "And pending that evaluation, they may keep you longer."

"What?"

"What do you expect, Squall? You tried to kill yourself."

"I didn't try to…" he began, but broke off.

He remembered his last thoughts before he drifted off and wondered if maybe that really had been his intent at the time.

I'll see you soon.

What did that mean? That he wanted to join Rinoa wherever she was?

He didn't have an answer. He'd gone almost eighty hours without sleep. He hadn't been thinking straight, his head full of the sound of her voice and his vision full of things that weren't real. Had his mind been so twisted and warped that he decided death was the better option?

He could recall feeling like she was there in the room with him, and he heard her voice call out his name with absolute clarity. He smelled rain and wildflowers and a hint of her perfume and for a few moments, Squall convinced himself he was in Centra waiting for her. That this time, she would be there and it would be like she never disappeared.

Why couldn't he let her go? Why did his mind insist on dreaming of her night after night when all he wanted to do was forget? In ten years, he should have been able to put her to rest and move on, but the truth was, he never felt like she was completely gone from the world. He felt her with him all the time, and she was with him night after night in dreams.

If you're listening, Rinoa, let me go. You're destroying me.

Her memory was killing him, and he didn't know how much longer he could take it. In ten years, the only peace of mind he got was time spent with Seth. Whatever link he still shared with her - be it insanity or reality- it was responsible for the inevitable destruction of his marriage, his mind, and now, maybe his career.

That wasn't fair.

Liz would have stayed if he'd been able to open up to her, or at the very least, if he sought help for the nightmares and chronic insomnia that plagued him. She begged him to talk to her, and if not her, then to a mental health professional. Squall refused help and shut her out when her worry turned to resentment.

Liz tried and Squall didn't. It was as simple as that.

He didn't want Liz to walk out, but he was unable to say the words to make her stay. He let her leave because it wasn't fair to ask her to put up with his bullshit. She deserved better than he was able to give her.

In his own way, Squall cared for her and he made a commitment. He had every intention of following through on that commitment, and he would not have left her. Liz chose to leave him, and he understood why.

If he could somehow move past this, they could try to make it work. Not just for Seth's sake, or Liz's, but also for himself. She was a kind woman, but he never allowed her to be kind to him.

When it all came to an end, her kindness turned to a brittle, bitter anger and he deserved every cruel word she said before she walked out. Squall was cold, and distant, and hard-headed, and he could be hateful when the mood struck him. She wasn't wrong.

"Squall, it's okay if that's what happened," Quistis said softly. "No one's judging you. We just want you well."

Above the door, the second hand of the clock ticked away tiny increments of Squall's life a fraction at a time. Each second a wasted opportunity for a life he never got the chance live.

"What do you think happened to her?" he asked. "Rinoa, I mean."

Not once in ten years did Squall dare ask this question out loud. He heard all the speculation, all the theories, but he never asked his friends what they thought.

Quistis stared at him for nearly a minute and Squall wished he kept it to himself.

They all knew, to some degree or other how Rinoa haunted him, but the mention of her was like standing on top of Garden waving a red flag.

They'd all loved her, but time erased who she was and what she looked like from their memories. Now, she was just a girl they knew years ago, a girl who became a Sorceress, a girl who died in the war.

Their forgetfulness was due in part to the use of GF's, and in part a consequence of time. All they knew of her now were the sketchy and sometimes fond memories of an otherwise difficult time in their lives.

Zell was the only one that hadn't forgotten. Upon their return from time compression, Zell eschewed the use of GF's in favor of remembering. He alone wanted to remember her and once a year, on the anniversary of their return, which was now officially listed as the date of her death, Zell held a vigil in her honor at the beach in Balamb.

Everyone attended the first year, but after that it was just Zell and a bottle of whiskey. Every year, Zell sat all by himself in the sand and drank toast after toast to her memory. When no one showed the second year, Zell was upset, especially with Squall, who couldn't bring himself to participate. It hurt too much. The loss of her from his life crippled both his mind and his heart, and he just couldn't do it.

"I really don't know," Quistis said carefully. "I wish I had an answer."

Dr. Ben Gallagher entered the room, favored Quistis with a secret, soft smile before he came to stand beside Squall with a clinical stare.

It was odd to be looked at like this by a man Squall considered a friendly acquaintance. He was Quistis' soon-to-be husband, a man Squall only encountered outside the walls of the hospital. Now he looked at Squall as though he was a specimen under a microscope.

"I see you're back with us," Ben said. "It was touch and go there for a while."

"So I hear."

"Your vitals and latest tests look good," he said. "No brain damage, though the medication did do some liver damage, which we expected, but that should heal up in a day or two. Overall, I'd say you're going to make a full recovery."

Squall was relieved to hear it. He felt like shit, but that wouldn't last. He would recover physically, but emotionally he would continue to be a train wreck. There was no cure for that. Now, he just wanted out of here and to see Seth. The image of his son without a face was still with him, and that left him with a sense of paranoia and an irrational fear that something bad happened to the boy while he was asleep.

"I assume Quistis told you about the psychiatric hold?"

"Yeah. Sounds like a blast."

"Look at it as an opportunity to figure out what the real problem is. It's in your best interest to be honest and to cooperate during the evaluations," Ben said. "Keeping it to yourself will only be to your detriment."

"If I don't cooperate, they'll keep me longer," Squall said. "I know how this works."

"Please, Squall," Quistis said. "We're trying to help you."

"I know. Believe me, I don't want to be locked up any longer than I have to be," he said and gave the restraints on his wrists a little tug. "On that note, would you mind taking these off? I don't plan to go anywhere."

"Fine," Ben said. "But they go back on if you start having the dreams again."

Squall didn't bother to tell the doctor the dreams were inevitable. Like clockwork. He could count down the hours until the next as the second hand swept him ever closer to insanity.

On the way back from Capetown, the little village closest to the orphanage, Seifer watched Rinoa from the corner of his eye as he steered his truck down a narrow dirt road. Her bare feet were propped on the dash as she plowed her way through a pint of chocolate ice cream with delighted abandon. It reminded him of the way he'd eaten after he was released from prison – with a ravenous hunger for flavors long forgotten.

"You going to save some of that for me?" he asked.

"You know? I don't think I will," she said. "Ten years. No food. Your fault. Remember?"

He smiled at her sass and he recalled that long ago summer they spent together. That feisty air about her was one of the things that attracted him to her in the first place.

What the hell was he going to do with her now? Hide her away in the orphanage? It might have been ten years, but she was still seventeen, both in body and spirit. He was almost twenty-nine and had no business harboring a seventeen year-old Sorceress in his home, even if on paper she was twenty-seven.

When his phone rang, he fished it out of his pocket and eyeballed the number before he answered. Every now and then, some reporter got a hold of his private number and would call to ask stupid questions he didn't want to answer. He'd been forced to change his number three times already due to harassment.

It was a Balamb number he didn't recognize, but only one person called him from Balamb.

"Almasy," he said.

"S'up."

In the background, Seifer heard the sound of an overhead page and people talking.

"Where the hell are you calling from?"

"Hospital."

"Accidentally get your hair caught in the ceiling fan again?"

"Funny," Zell said without humor.

There was a pause.

"Leonhart tried to off himself yesterday," Zell said. "He's messed up, man. Really messed up."

That was a surprise. Like Seifer, Squall would rather suffer through it than quit. They may not been the best of friends, but Seifer appreciated the fight in his former rival. To know that the guy was messed up enough that he tried to kill himself was not welcome news.

Seifer glanced at Rinoa, who was still preoccupied with the pint of ice cream. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have in front of her for more than one reason. She'd already taken too many direct hits about the life she'd missed, and he didn't want to be the one to add more on top of it. He also didn't want to explain why Zell would call him when all she knew of their relationship was their former hostility.

"You're joking, right?"

"I wish I was," Zell said. "I'm the one that found him. He was barely breathing, laying there in a puddle of his own vomit. He almost fucking died in my arms, man."

There was too much grief in Zell's voice, and Seifer weighed the consequences of having this conversation with Rinoa present. The last thing he wanted was for her to ask questions, but for Zell's sake, Seifer chose to continue. He would just be very, very careful about what he said in response.

"That sucks. How did he do it?"

"Sleeping pills and vodka."

Seifer figured his former rival would be the sort to jump in front of a train or put a bullet in his head if he were so inclined end it. Something quick and absolute. Seifer knew this because it was what he would have done, and he had more in common with Squall than most people might believe.

"Shit. How's he doing?"

"Well, he's going to live, but he may wind up in the nut house," Zell said. "You know what the really scary part is? When he was coming around, he kept screaming her name."

"Who?"

"Rinoa."

Alarmed, Seifer glanced at the young Sorceress beside him. Her attention was focused on the ice cream, but he couldn't be sure she wasn't listening in.

Seifer's gut twisted in suspicion. He could only think of one reason Squall might care after all this time. It was no secret the two grew fond of one another during the war, but only a lunatic would hang on to someone he'd only known a such a short time.

Unless...

"When did this happen? What time?"

"Well, I found him around seven, so maybe an hour or two before that?"

Seifer did the mental math. The time difference put Squall's attempt around the same time Rinoa showed up outside the orphanage. Was it possible Squall felt her come back and thought he'd gone crazy? It was too big a coincidence to deny the two things could be linked.

Were you her Knight, Leonhart? You poor, sorry bastard...

It was most likely explanation. Squall was bonded to someone presumed dead for ten years, and it was no wonder he'd gone off the deep end. If Ultimecia suddenly reappeared and got inside Seifer's head again, he would think he'd lost his mind, too.

"Hyne almighty," Seifer said.

"Yeah. My thoughts exactly."

No, not exactly, my friend.

Seifer steered the truck around a deep pothole he almost forgot was there. The sudden swerve sent Rinoa crashing against the door. She cursed and glared at him as she righted herself in the seat.

"Would you mind watching the road?" she snapped.

"I told you to put on your seatbelt," he snapped back.

Then he cursed under his breath. He didn't want to even touch on the subject of Rinoa with Zell. Or vice versa. He didn't even know how he would explain either situation. He knew one thing, though. Zell would piss himself if he knew Rinoa was three feet away from him and very much alive.

"You got a girl with you?"

"Housekeeper," he lied. "Driving her back to town."

"Really. Since when do you have a housekeeper?"

His tone was suspicious and Seifer grinned at the phone.

"Since yesterday. Why, are you jealous?"

"Maybe. I don't know what you do when I'm not around."

Seifer chuckled. "You mean who, don't you?"

"Ugh, spare me," Zell said.

"She's a little young for my tastes," Seifer said as he glanced at Rinoa from the corner of his eye. "Don't worry. I'm being a good boy."

"You better be."

Rinoa was curious now, but pretending not to listen. Time to cut the conversation short, before he said something really incriminating.

"Listen," Seifer said. "I gotta go. Can I call you back in a bit?"

"Yeah. I need to check in with Liz anyway."

Seifer ended the call and pocketed his phone and glanced over at Rinoa again. She stared at him with a funny half-smile and her brown eyes sparkled with mischief and expectation. Seifer planned to lie like a dog.

"So?"

"What?"

"Who was that?"

"None of your business."

"Was that your girlfriend?" she asked and lifted an eyebrow. "Because it sounded like you were talking to a girl."

Seifer grinned and steered the truck into the driveway.

"Something like that."

"Details!" she said. "Who is she?"

He wasn't ready to have this conversation yet. He didn't care about her opinion on the matter, but the explanation was too long and complicated a tale and one she might not understand. Sometimes, Seifer didn't understand himself why it was Zell, or why Zell ever bothered to visit him in prison, or how dislike turned to understanding and friendship, or how that friendship turned physical. But it happened, and lust was lust, passion was passion, and there was a hell of a lot more to it than all that.

"I'm not discussing this with you," Seifer said.

"So, I'm the housekeeper," she said, amused. "Is she jealous?"

"Shut it."

He stopped the truck next to the house, put it in park and sat there for a moment, thinking about the implications of Squall being Rinoa's Knight.

If Rinoa coming back was the reason Squall tried on a toe-tag, that meant their bond fully functional and very powerful. And Squall would either figure it out, or it would send him to the nut hatch. From what Seifer remembered of his bond with Ultimecia, the longer that bond remained in place, the more aware they were of each other. He'd been able to hear her thoughts after a while, not just the thoughts she put in his head.

"Are we just going to hang out in the truck all night?" Rinoa asked. "You promised me bacon."

Seifer switched the engine off and got out without a word. He hauled the groceries out of the truck bed, carried them inside and started to put them away.

"There should be hot water now," he told Rinoa. "Grab a shower if you want. There's also a box of clothes in the hall if you want to dig through it. Most of it was Edea's so it'll probably fit better than my sweat pants."

"You don't need any help?"

"No. I got this," he said. "Do what you gotta do."

As soon as Seifer heard the shower come on, he went out back and called Zell.

"S'up."

"Calling you back," Seifer said. "Housekeeper wouldn't mind her own business."

"That's weird."

"She wanted to know all about my girlfriend," he said with a grin.

"Oh, geez. What did you tell her?"

"Short. Blonde. Athletic," Seifer said. "Stupid hair."

"Shut up," Zell said with a laugh. "Asshole."

"Shithead."

Seifer's smile dropped away and he turned to look at the beach below. Waves crashed against the shore as the tide came in, not as heavy as yesterday, but heavier than usual, leaving a line of debris in the sand.

"Sucks you had to deal with the whole Squall thing," he said. "I know that was probably pretty fucked up to walk into."

"You have no idea," Zell said. "I was literally five minutes from finding a corpse instead."

"Any idea why he did it?"

"Doc's saying maybe PTSD or anxiety or something like that," Zell said. "All I know is the guy doesn't sleep. Liz told me he used to stay up for days without sleeping, and apparently he still does. Could be he just finally cracked."

"Well, keep me posted," Seifer said.

If what Seifer believed was true, and Squall figured out that Rinoa was alive and back in the present, there was a chance he would show up at some point to look for her. Seifer wasn't sure how either of them would handle it, and he would be glad for a heads up.

"Yeah, will do," Zell said. "By the way, I've got some other news."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"I gave my notice," Zell said. "I've got one week left as a SeeD."

"You're kidding me. When did you decide this?"

"Last week. I don't want to do it anymore," he said. "I can't do it anymore."

"So, what are you going to do if you're not a SeeD?"

"Stay with Ma for a while, I guess," Zell said. "Been thinking about opening a Dojo in Balamb."

"Why don't you crash here till you figure it out?" Seifer asked without thinking.

"You want me to?"

They hadn't put any sort of label on their relationship yet and co-habitation was a really big step. Seifer wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not, but he was game to give it a shot. He could use the extra help on the house, and Zell enjoyed the work. Not to mention, the other benefits that would come along with it.

"Are you serious or are you just messing with me?" Zell asked when Seifer didn't answer. "You really want me to?"

"Don't make me say it, shithead."

"Make you say what?"

"Just think about it," Seifer said. "Get back to me."

As he hung up the phone, it dawned on him that he didn't consider Rinoa when he suggested it. He nearly called Zell back and told him he changed his mind, but he didn't know what Rinoa's plans were yet, if she'd even thought about it. Every time it came up, she cracked jokes about food and changed the subject. She asked no questions about the articles or pictures, or about her father or even Timber. If she was avoiding it, she needed to face it, the sooner the better.

Seifer wasn't adverse to her staying a while. He owed her a debt he'd never be able to repay, and he didn't mind the company, but her being here presented a few problems. First, he would have to tell her about Zell, and second, he would have to make absolutely certain Zell would not go and run his big mouth about her until she came up with a plan and was ready to let the world know she was alive.

He pocketed the phone, went inside and grabbed the vodka from the cabinet. This whole thing was a great, big mess that could blow up in his face at any second. And Hyne help it did.

After her shower, Rinoa dug through the box Seifer mentioned and found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that would fit. She changed and towel-dried her hair and when she emerged from the bathroom, she was overwhelmed by the scent of cooked bacon. Her stomach rumbled and she smiled at the sight of Seifer at the stove, pushing something around in a frying pan with a wooden spoon. It was incongruous with her too-recent memory of the madman who tossed her to Adel like a bag of garbage.

But Rinoa reminded herself, it wasn't just days ago.

Time mellowed him. Whether that was from the years spent underground, or just maturity, a calmer, less cocky and hostile Seifer Almasy was a good thing. So far, anyway.

"That smells incredible."

"Sit."

When he joined her at the table, he dropped a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her and set the bottle of vodka between them.

"Eat, and then we need to talk."

Rinoa tried to ignore the ball of dread in her stomach, but she worried he would tell her to get lost. She didn't know if there was anywhere to go if he did. Going home to Deling City wasn't an option, in spite of, or maybe because of the memorial with her name on it in the back yard of her father's house. Balamb seemed like a bad idea, too. She was a Sorceress, for Hyne's sake. They wouldn't welcome her with open arms. If she'd been gone a year, maybe. But not ten, and under such mysterious circumstances.

They ate in silence. Seifer took swigs of vodka straight from the bottle from time to time but offered nothing in the way of conversation.

As she ate, she watched him and wondered about the phone call on the way home. He called her the housekeeper. He lied to the girl on the phone because she was here. Rinoa didn't want to impose or get in the way.

Seifer cleared the table when they were done and dumped the dishes in the sink without bothering to wash them. He grabbed the vodka and motioned for her to follow him outside. On the porch he dropped into a reclining lawn chair and leaned back to stare up at the sky. Rinoa perched on the wall across from him. She didn't want to look at the stars so she looked at him, still thrown by the maturity in his handsome face.

"So what happens now?" he asked.

"I haven't really thought about it," she admitted.

"You need to," Seifer said. "Time's not going to rewind itself. I know that sucks to hear, but you can't just avoid it."

"This isn't easy," she fired back. "I lost ten years, Seifer! How am I supposed to process and accept all that in twenty-four hours?"

Seifer swallowed a mouthful of vodka and passed the bottle her way.

The last time she indulged in alcohol, it was some god-awful gyshal hooch Watts was fond of. The memory of vomiting out the door of the train car after only a few swallows was not a pleasant one, so she refused.

"Have a drink, Rin," Seifer said. "If anyone ever had a damned good reason to get trashed, it's you."

She accepted the offered bottle, swallowed a mouthful and screwed up her face as it burned her tongue and throat.

"This is awful."

"Nobody drinks it for the taste," he said.

He took the bottle back and stared up at the sky again.

"I take it you want me to leave," she said softly.

"I didn't say anything about you leaving, did I?" he said. "That's not what I'm getting at."

"Then what are you saying?"

"Stop avoiding it," he said. "Start asking questions. Talk about it. Figure out what the fuck you're going to do."

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm dead, remember? Dead people don't talk!" she shouted. She sounded hysterical to her own ears and paused to take a long, slow breath to calm down. "I don't exist anymore. Rinoa Heartilly is dead, so what's the point?"

Seifer got up and sat beside her on the wall and straddled it so that he faced her. He pressed the bottle into her hand and this time she took a long swallow. It still burned going down but she helped herself to a second swallow and thrust the bottle at him. With the back of her hand, she wiped her mouth. If this was supposed to help, it didn't. It only weighed her down more.

She wasn't ready for this. She didn't want to make decisions about a life that she never even lived. How did one start over after a ten year absence? How was she supposed to come back from the dead? All of her friends had moved on without her. They had lives and kids and the boy she loved was now a man with a wife and child.

"Rinoa, I know you didn't ask for any of this, but you're going to have to deal with it," he said.

"How do you expect me to deal with this? Throw a party? Get drunk and bawl my eyes out?" she asked. "What am I supposed to do?"

Hot, angry tears rolled down her cheeks and she wished she could just go back. Maybe, if she went back she would be able to find the right time so that she wouldn't miss out on anything. That was impossible, but it didn't change her desire to turn back the clock for a do-over.

"If it helps," he said and handed her the bottle again. "I'll hold your hair while you puke later."

She laughed through her tears and drank. Seifer held out his arms, inviting her to take what comfort he could offer. She allowed herself to accept, and took it for what it was. Just a hug from an old friend.

She should be terrified and repulsed, but she wasn't. This was the Seifer she knew - the boy she'd known before the war, the one that charmed her, colluded with her on the demise of Vinzer Deling and the Galbadian Empire, and helped her deface Galbadian propaganda posters with spray paint.

"You know, all I could think about was getting out of that hell so I could be with them," she said. "I thought, as long as I got out, everything would be fine. It never occurred to me that there was the possibility of getting so lost everyone would forget me. It never even crossed my mind, but the whole time, I could feel him waiting for me."

Seifer let her go and took a measured swallow from the bottle, regarding her shrewdly as he set the drink aside.

"Can I ask you something?"

Rinoa shrugged. "Sure."

"Did he pledge to be your Knight?"

"Not out loud," she said. "But we had this conversation outside, by the pillars, and... afterwards, it was like there was some sixth sense that wasn't there before. Like, I had Squall Radar." She laughed sadly and pushed her bangs out of her eyes. "Not in the sense that I could read his mind or anything, but I always knew where he was and when he was close by and when he was hurt worse than he let on."

Squall never said the words out loud, but it didn't make a difference. One minute, the connection wasn't there, and the next, it was. He pledged, she accepted, without ever realizing it was no lark – it was for real.

"Is he still waiting?" Seifer asked.

His tone was strange, though Rinoa couldn't discern exactly what was strange about it.

Did she still feel Squall waiting?

No. Not waiting. Something else.

It was only a vague impression, but she closed her eyes and reached out, searching for him and sensed confusion, followed by absolute panic.

For the love of Hyne, just leave me alone. You're making me crazy.

Were those words meant for her? Or someone else entirely?

Then it was gone and she felt nothing at all.

When Squall woke it was late and Liz occupied the same chair where Quistis sat before her, wearing the same expression of pity. Squall hated it just as much on her as he hated it on Quistis. Except, on Liz, it made him feel incredibly guilty, too.

"How are you feeling?"

Stupid and confused and angry. Lost and broken and ridiculous.

Over the door, the clock ticked. He didn't want to waste another opportunity. He owed her an apology, one he never bothered to give, even though she deserved it.

"I'm sorry Liz. I'm sorry I wasn't a better husband."

She swallowed hard and lifted a hand to her eyes to brush away the bangs that had fallen limp overnight.

"That's not what this was about, is it?" she asked.

"No."

She moved her chair closer to the bed and slipped her hand into his. After everything, she still tried to reach him and Squall didn't deserve it.

"Would you talk to me?" she asked softly. "Because I want to understand. Did I let you down by leaving?"

"Why would you think that?"

"I left because I was jealous," she said with a guilty shrug. "I wasn't thinking about you and what you needed. I was thinking about myself."

"This isn't your fault," he said.

"Then what is it? What happened?"

"It's still her, Liz," Squall said. "She's killing me. I don't know how she's doing it, but I still feel her. She still owns me. I don't know how, but she does."

Liz let go of his hand and turned her eyes to the floor. If Squall could take all those words back, he would have. After all, the ghost that haunted him haunted her, too.

"Does that hurt you to hear?"

"Yes," Liz said in a small voice.

"Am I crazy?" he said. "Do you think this is all in my head?"

"I don't know," she said. "But I do know I can't stand to watch you suffer."

He settled back against the pillows and looked at the clock above the door. Time still moved forward, all the lost seconds of his life like tick marks on a prison wall. Each one spirited him further and further away from the life he was meant to live.

"I do love you Liz. Maybe not the way you deserve, but I do, and I hope you know that," he said.

"I love you, too," she whispered.

It had to count for something that Liz was still here, that she never turned her back entirely. Not for the first time, Squall wished he could return her feelings and be the kind of husband she deserved. Squall wasn't that man, but he wanted to be.

"Can I see Seth?" he asked.

"I don't think that's such a good idea right now."

"Please Liz," he said. "Don't fight me on this."

"Okay," she said softly, "but just for a little while."

She got up and went to the door, leaving Squall alone with the beep of machines and the steady tick-tick-tick of the clock. It was like a count down, as though he lived inside of a ticking time bomb. If he listened closely, he could hear the drip of the bathroom sink and the echo of Rinoa's voice in the room with him.

I don't want to talk about it! I'm dead, remember? Dead people don't talk!

Her shouted words cut into him like a dull blade. He sat up and clutched at the rail to ground himself in reality.

She wasn't here. She wasn't here, but he felt her, felt the thrum of a heartbeat that wasn't his own and in words he didn't remember her ever speaking.

He wiped a hand through his hair only to clench a handful in his fist.

"Rinoa?" he whispered. "Are you here?"

How do you expect me to deal with this? Throw a party? Get drunk and bawl my eyes out?

Her voice was so close. So clear. Like she was right there in the room with him. He couldn't breathe. He pressed a hand to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut against the sting of pain that wasn't his.

He was losing it. Really, and truly losing it. He needed to get it together. He needed to shut her out, he just didn't know how to.

"Please leave me alone. For the love of Hyne, just leave me alone," he breathed. "You're making me crazy."

He took a few deep breaths and focused on the door. He had to keep it together for Seth. He couldn't let his son see him freak out or act like a lunatic.

Thoughts of his boy calmed him, and he pictured Seth's serious blue eyes and his slow, cautious smile, and the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose and that was all he needed to bring him back from the edge.

Liz returned a moment later with the boy, who flew across the room and climbed up over the bedrail and into the bed. His scrawny little arms went around Squall's neck and gave Squall the first bit of genuine comfort he'd experienced in over a week.

Squall pulled the boy into his side and held on tight. He caught the scent of Seth's favorite banana shampoo and the smell of leather from the boy's jacket as he fit himself against Squall's shoulder.

"Hey there, buddy," he breathed into Seth's hair. "I missed you."

"Daddy, why are you in the hospital?"

"Daddy had a little accident," Squall said. "I'll be okay."

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"Something like that," Squall said.

"I'm going to go grab a cup of coffee," Liz said.

"Mom, can I stay with daddy?" Seth asked.

"For a little while. It's way past your bedtime, kiddo," Liz said. "We can't stay too much longer."

She headed for the door. As she opened it, Squall called out to her.

"Hey Liz?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

She nodded, tears in her eyes as she stepped into the hall and closed the door.

Seth scooted up and put his head on the pillow next to Squall so that they were face to face. A powerful surge of unconditional love for his son overwhelmed him. The boy reminded him so much of himself that he might as well be looking into a mirror. This kid had become his everything. His entire world. He had to keep it together, if only for Seth's sake.

"I had a bad dream, daddy," Seth whispered.

Squall brushed the unruly strands of hair from Seth's eyes and refused to think about his own dreams.

"It was just a dream, kiddo," Squall said. "Dreams aren't real."

Squall wondered who he was trying to convince. Seth, or himself?

"This one was," Seth said. "I was in this really scary place, and the clouds were all dark and moving funny and stuff, and there was this pretty girl with wings and I was trying to show her how to get home. I think it happened this time and she found the place she was supposed to go, and then I found you, but your face was all gray and you wouldn't wake up. It was so scary and I thought you were gone forever."

"I'm right here, kiddo. I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

"Pinkie swear?" Seth asked.

"Pinkie swear," Squall said with a smile.

But on the inside, Squall was screaming. Seth had just described Time Compression, with similar elements to Squall's dream, save the pretty girl with wings. He only knew of one person who fit that description, though what it meant or how Seth could know about her, Squall didn't know.

"She was lost and she was looking for you, too," Seth said. "I think she just wanted to go home. So I helped her and she found this place with a lot of flowers and this neat old house."

Squall's heartbeat raced wildly ahead of each soft click of the second hand of the clock above the door. This wasn't the way Seth normally spoke, not with so many words or so fast, though his vocabulary was impressive for a kid his age. He was more like Squall – conservative and reserved and Squall got a chill he didn't understand.

Seth laid his little hand against Squall's cheek and stared back at him with the eyes of an wizened old man who'd seen too much horror, his face so close to Squall's that the tips of their noses touched. So close, Squall could have counted every individual freckle on Seth's cheeks.

"Don't be sad, daddy," Seth whispered. "I think Rinoa found her way home."

Tick. Tick. Tick.

-Boom-