All the things she said.
Seifer fidgeted in his cell, stabbing at the slowly growing hole in his lumpy mattress and scratching occasionally at his stomach. He had long since gotten over the fact that he now had fleas, his original reaction of attempting to crush every one of the little buggers he found on his person soon dissipated as he realised that his bed was infested with them, and so crushing them all was absolutely out of the question.
His cell had become somewhat of a home to him, as much as one could call a prison cell a home, and he almost cherished what few objects he was permitted to have with him. Apparently the only things they had deemed safe enough for him to have was a toothbrush and toothpaste, a hairbrush, a battered and beaten textbook he had stolen from the Balamb Garden Library when he was enrolled there – it seemed so long ago now – and a locket containing nothing at all. Everything else he had requested, pencils and paper, a proper bed, and even a snow globe – if only on a whim – had been denied. Evidently they considered him enough of a genius to be able to forge an escape plan using only those simple things. Oh gosh he wished!
Night after night he would lie awake at the mercy of his little blood-sucking companions, thinking about the day he would be free of that oppressive space. It wasn't so far away now. He could almost taste the freedom on the tip of his tongue. At one point, freedom had meant death, his execution being the only way to pardon his actions, to gain his liberation from prison. But now he would really be free, with the possibility of a real life and a future and no matter how bleak that future might seem to others, in comparison to his current sorry excuse for existence, the prospect was utter bliss. The only problem was... He wasn't sure what he was going to do with it...
The first thing he had to do was obvious. He had to apologise. And say thank you. He wrinkled his nose at the idea of thanking people who had in all reality wanted him dead, but if he said thank you to anyone he knew who it was going to be. She had after all, been the one fighting for his cause. She was the one who won him back his freedom, won him back his life. And for that at least he had to thank her.
His mind struggled constantly with the idea that she had bothered to do something for him, when all she had ever received from him in the past had been cold glares, crushing laughter and a lifetimes worth of insults. To think that she would promise him his freedom in full, something he had hardly dared to hope for even in his wildest dreams, and had then worked hard to procure him that freedom... If there was anyone he would be happy to fall in front of, apologising and thanking her from bending knee until she was forced to shut him up – or die trying – it was her. Quistis Trepe.
He had been full of scorn when she arrived outside his cell door one day, dressed in her usual seeD uniform, her hair pulled back from her face, and announced to him that he was going to be leaving the prison.
"Of course," He'd replied sarcastically, "And I suppose you're here to help me pick out the colours for my coffin are you?"
"I'm here to offer you your freedom with your head on your shoulders still Almasy, so you can drop that arrogant tone immediately." She replied tersely as the guard she had brought with her let her into his cell, a look of apprehension crossing his face. "You may leave." She told the man, gesturing with her hand when he stuttered over excuses and objections. It didn't matter how young or beautiful Quistis Trepe was, she was still an intimidating figure, especially when employing her no-nonsense voice and cold glare.
Seifer took a step backwards as she stepped into his cell, closing the door with a click behind her, locking it automatically even without the keys. "No one is allowed in my cell Trepe." He said coldly, glaring at her as she shrugged off her jacket and made to drop it on his bed. "I wouldn't." He said suddenly, then in response to her questioning glance he said, "Its got fleas."
Raising an eyebrow she conceded to drop the jacket on the floor by the door and walked to stand by him, holding a sheet of paper in her hands. He glanced between the paper and her face before asking, "What do you want me to do? Eat it?"
"No." Came the reply, "I want you to read it."
"Why don't you read it to me?"
"It's too long to read out loud."
"Sum it up."
"The rules to your freedom."
He veritably snatched the paper from her hands, turning his back on her as he read. It was indeed a list of rules centring on his freedom. They all looked reasonable; no drugs, stealing, murdering, coup d'état's or political involvement. But there was one rule that he wasn't all that pleased about; constant escort and supervision by a certified seeD for the duration of his existence. He turned to face her with an incredulous expression and said, "This is ridiculous!"
"Those are the conditions." She said apparently undeterred. "Either you agree to them, or you will be executed next week. Your choice."
Forsaking his usual composure Seifer let his jaw drop, "Next week?"
He had been prepared for his impending doom for some time, but there had never been a fixed date, it had always been sometime in the distant future. He wasn't sure if he was ready to die next week, but whatever the case it would be touch and go from now on. "Who would be winning me my freedom?" He asked doubtfully. If it was just some idiot buffoon likely to get him into even deeper shit than he was already in he would pass, save himself the embarrassment and just die.
"I will."
"You will?" He could feel some of his apprehension lifting already, at least Quistis would get the job done and it wouldn't come out half-arsed, but he was still doubtful of what she really meant.
"That's what I said." She said, sounding bored. "Or has your detainment affected your hearing?"
Every day since he had accepted her offer, she visited him with the latest update on the investigations. Her visits were never long – 20 minutes at the longest – but she always came without fail. Seifer found himself looking forward to her visits more than it was probably healthy; the one time she was slightly late he reduced himself to a shivering wreck in the corner of his cell, his mind filled with thoughts of her betrayal, the loss of his case and his eventual demise.
It was only after she had explained that she had been held up at an interview with the press, blocking out the main points for his innocence, that Seifer accepted she hadn't abandoned him.
The case passed slowly, but not as slowly as he had expected – 6 months was a long time to be stuck in a cell with nothing to do, no matter how you looked at it – and eventually Quistis came to fetch him at 8 am one morning, a long black bag slung over one shoulder, a thick briefcase in her other hand.
"Come on Almasy," She said sharply as the guard fumbled with some keys in the lock, "Off your arse and face the wall, hands behind your back."
Curious, Seifer obeyed her instructions, his heart soaring at the hope as the handcuffs went on and he was pulled and pushed from his cell, following Quistis along the corridor to what appeared to be the guards' shower and locker room. He was uncuffed, handed a bar of soap and pushed roughly into the shower.
"Get scrubbing." Quistis called from the other side of the curtain. Once again Seifer obeyed, shedding his flea infested clothing and smashing his fist into the button for the water to start. It was temperamental to say the least, one minute it was warm, then it was fucking hot, then it was fucking cold, then it stopped and he had to start the whole cycle over again. He made sure to swear liberally at each and every temperature change.
"You're going to court today," Quistis told him, her eyes roving over him as he did the buttons up on the shirt she had brought with her. "You're going to be questioned, witnesses will make testaments against or for you and you'll be questioned again. Then the jury will decide your fate. Either you're innocent today Seifer, or you're 6 feet under by sunset."
"Who are the witnesses?" He asked, reaching for the suit jacket. There were a mixture of feelings in his stomach at the mentions of his 'fate'; he felt something akin to butterflies at the thought of being free, but then sick to his core with the image of the block.
"Rinoa, Squall, Selphie and a handful of others. It only seemed natural that the ones who saw you at your worst would give body to the fight."
"Puberty-boy..."
"He's not that bad anymore, Seifer." She chided him, coming forward to help him sort out his tie – he'd never been very good with the things and the untidy knot round his neck was testimony to that fact. "He's more likely to agree with the questions I'm going to ask him. And Rinoa is an easy one to get past."
His solemn expression must not have seemed too impressed because the next second he found himself being given a very rough hug and his hair was ruffled affectionately. "You have nothing to worry about, Seifer. I'll make sure we win today."
If there was one thing he could say about Quistis Trepe, it was that he never wanted to come across her in a dark alley-way, anywhere on the planet. She battered the witnesses around like they were ragdolls, a heavy tome seemingly welded into her hand, from which she read entire passages dictating the effects of sorceress manipulation, all of which the witnesses admitted Seifer to have displayed. Squall was nearly turned to tears by the interrogation he was subjected to over 'knightly obligations' and the bone deep, insatiable need to appease his sorceress. Rinoa was exactly as Quistis had predicted, a complete pushover, she practically declared Seifer innocent by herself and with Selphie's grudging agreement at his manipulation, freedom was in sight.
All that remained was his final questioning. Quistis treated him the worst out of all of them, she made various wild accusations, all of which he was able to deflect with the truth, but one question stuck in him above all others:
"And are you ashamed of what you've done?"
He didn't know. He honestly didn't know. After all the fighting had stopped and everyone had settled down again, the saviours into their honorary roles, him to his prison cell, things for him had stopped, become so bleak and grey he honestly didn't know what he would have done had he not been given that feeling of elation, the same one that resided with him still at the mention of being a "Sorceress' Knight".
"Pardon?" Quistis frowned, not sure she had heard him say anything at all, or whether it was just his lips moving as he stared out the window at the grey storm clouds that had gathered.
"Sorceress' Knight." He repeated louder. "All I ever wanted to be was a Sorceress' Knight. And when finally I got the chance, I was beaten to it by Leonheart." He chuckled lightly, shifting his eyes to watch Squall squirming in the witnesses' block. "A little boy's foolish dream seemed so close to being crushed, but Ultimecia offered me the chance again. I took it without hesitation. I lived my dream and it tasted so sweet, like the cotton candy we used to get on Sundays at the orphanage." He licked his lips and smiled, his green eyes returning to the view from the window. "That sweetness was to die for, to kill for. I killed for it, I was prepared to die for it. But am I ashamed?"
The courtroom was in utter silence, not a body dared to interrupt his flow because this was the moment when the murderer of thousands, the ruiner of lives himself revealed himself.
"Yes I'm ashamed. I murdered for a woman I knew only in my mind. I fired my gun until my clip was empty and the floors were stained with innocent blood for a feeling. Who wouldn't be ashamed of such mediocre reasoning? But if you offered me the chance to go back in time and stop myself from making the biggest decision in history? No, I wouldn't change a damn thing in my life."
He found himself biting his nails as he waited for the jury's verdict. It took them barely 15 minutes to decide. The entire 15 minutes Quistis had uncrossed her fingers once. She was stone faced and pale. He was shaking and was fairly sure he was green. Once the jury had taken their seats, the envelope was brought to the judge. It seemed like the world had stood still. Seifer hadn't even opened his eyes for the verdict and he was pretty sure the courtroom was holding its breath.
"Could Ms. Trepe please come forward?"
The sound of Quistis's heels clopping on the floor did little to calm his nerves, neither did her little gasp or the sound of her sobbing. He didn't dare open his eyes even as she virtually threw herself at him, her arms linking around his neck and her sobs shaking his body. The only thing he had wanted to hear, the only words short of 'I love you' that could have opened his eyes, stopped his heart in his chest and sprung tears of joy all at once was her strangled cry of:
"We did it! We did it, Seifer! You're free!"
And it was pure bliss. Sweetness like nothing else he had felt, tasted or worse. It was all the things she'd said.
A/N: Firstly I must apologise for taking so long to post anything new, I had writers block and no internet since christmas because a lot of things happened and the bottom line is the house was flooded and the damage is collosal, hense the total lack of internet and updates. I really apologise, but I promise I will be working hard to bring out new stuff at not-too-irregular intervals.
Ok, now that's said, I must explain that the judge asked Quistis to come forward because... Awwh gosh I can't tell you lol xD I'll write that in another drabble xD So keep reading and I really hope this makes up for the long absense :(
-Okami
P.S. Prompts are always welcomed :)