DISCLAIMER: Don't own a single thing you recognize.
A/N: OK, wow, was this a busy month writing-wise for me. The chapter could have been up about two weeks ago, but I decided to postpone it until I was done with everything and could post it all en masse. Please don't ignore the block of text that follows, as it contains information concerning the story and this chapter in particular (sorry it's so huge). If you started reading this story after October 4th 2010, feel free to skip to the 5th paragraph.
First things first: this chapter is dedicated to the a-w-e-s-o-m-e people over at the SeiferxQuistis community on livejournal (the link to which can be found in Ms Starlight's profile, who in turn can be found under my list of favorite authors). I posed a question to them a while back, and the response I got opened my eyes to tons of details and actual canon facts I had no idea existed. As such, I decided to alter a few things in my story to comply with canon. Not to worry, nothing has truly changed plot-wise.
With that in mind, I also went back to edit some of these details into chapters 1-6 and give them an overall edit as well. I'm usually against that, as I like having visible proof of my progress, so I avoided doing any heavy duty re-writing. There are no new scenes, just corrections here and there (mostly POV discrepancies since I had the bad habit of switching from character to character within the same scene) and a few minor additions. Certain POV switches couldn't be resolved without completely changing the pace and feel of a scene, so I reluctantly left some of them in.
To save you the trouble of re-reading the whole thing, I have made notes of what has changed in each chapter. Scroll down to the very bottom of the page on every chapter, and there will be a section in the closing A/N in bold, explaining what is different.
Finally, a few explanations on the nature of this chapter. I decided to use this chapter to tell my version of what happened immediately post-war to all our heroes. Seifer's scenes are part one of how he and Jonah came to work together. The rest will be posted at a later time, but definitely not in the next chapter. To avoid confusion, only the last scene takes place in the present, meaning right after the end of chapter 8. You'll know it's the last one when you see the year '4999' on the timestamp. To make sense of the timestamps, bear in mind that in my story, the game ended on mid-May 4997 M.G. and the war lasted a whole year.
Also, Seifer swears in this chapter. A lot. And he's being a jerk. A lot. You have been warned xD
That's all. Sorry again for the extra-long A/N and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter 9: In Illo Tempore
"What does a scanner see? Into the head? Down into the heart?
Does it see into me? Into us? Clearly or darkly?
I hope it sees clearly, because I can't any longer see into myself.
I see only murk. I hope, for everyone's sake, the scanners do better.
Because if the scanner sees only darkly, the way I do,
then I'm cursed and cursed again and will only wind up dead this way,
knowing very little and getting that little fragment wrong, too."
- Bob Arctor, 'A Scanner Darkly'
July 26th 4997 M.G.
Balamb City, Balamb
"There's time. Ship leaves in two days, so you can still change your mind, ya know?"
Seifer squeezed the empty beer can in his hand and tossed it right into the wastebasket nearby. "Thanks, but no thanks," he said.
Fujin turned to look at Raijin once and then shifted her gaze back to Seifer. "WHY?"
Seifer leaned against the barrel behind his back, sighing. He couldn't even begin to fully explain why he wouldn't join them. These few months they had spent together in Balamb had probably been the best and worst of his life. They never discussed the war, or how they had parted; it was as if their posse had never broken, as if the past year didn't exist.
They never even asked any questions when he woke up at nights, his shirt soaked in sweat and his face painted scarlet from the nosebleeds. All they did was take care of him patiently, respecting his wish not to see a doctor. When morning came, there was no mention of those incidents, and they happily went on about their day, working, laughing, going out for beers or fishing.
Despite the good times they had together, Seifer knew they were getting restless. The jobs they held in Balamb were enough to pay for their small apartment, but they weren't enough to satisfy their need for action. The itch was there, and Seifer felt it, too. He would have gone with them to the ends of the world in search of adventure. Anywhere, except the one place they were going.
When they'd announced Edea's offer, Seifer had given the two of them a warm smile. He'd wished them a good trip, told them he wouldn't be able to follow, and left the apartment to go fishing, giving them time alone to pack. It took ten minutes for them to track him down by the docks, and they were currently trying to get him to change his mind.
"Edea is starting to get her life back on track," Seifer replied. "She doesn't need me there messing things up for her."
Fujin scowled and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Venting her frustrations with a kick was her signature move, but it was usually poor Raijin who was the recipient of her anger. Apparently, it was now finally his turn. "IDIOT!"
"OW!" Seifer yowled, reaching for his shin and rubbing it furiously. "What the fuck, Fuj?"
She turned to Raijin and cocked her head sharply toward Seifer. "EXPLAIN."
"Fujin's right, ya know?" Raijin said, mirroring her stance and folding his arms as well. "Don't be an idiot. Edea wants you there. If she didn't, she wouldn't have asked, ya know?"
Seifer toyed with the handle on the spinning reel of his rod, frowning. "Edea is too naïve some times. If more people said no to her from time to time, she might actually grow a brain," he said bitterly.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He didn't really mean to speak ill of a person who had been nothing but kind to him, and who he cared about deeply, but her persistence was getting on his nerves. Doesn't she get it? We can't be near each other again, ever, he thought. Am I the only one who can see that? How can she be so irresponsible?
In addition to his own guilt over what he had said, Seifer knew there would be retaliation from the other two as well. He had half-expected another kick from Fujin, but it was Raijin who reacted first.
"That's not cool, man," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "There aren't a lot of people out there who are as kind as Edea, ya know? She cares about you, and this is how you talk about her?"
Seifer turned to stare at the ocean straight ahead. He couldn't face either of them right now. "I'm sorry, but it's true. If this is what you want, go. I won't follow you, but we'll still keep in touch, we can-"
Fujin didn't stay to hear the rest. She let out a huff and marched off the pier without so much as a glance at Seifer. The blond watched her go, sighing.
Raijin looked like he had half a mind to follow her, but Seifer figured he must've looked so pitiful that he decided to take a seat on the pier next to him instead. "Seriously, why won't you come?" he asked. "I thought we were a posse again, ya know?"
Seifer stopped pretending he was fishing and set the pole aside at last. "Don't ask me that," he said, staring at the water. "I don't want to lie to you guys, so just don't ask, all right?"
"Was it something we did?" Raijin asked quietly.
"No," Seifer said, shaking his head. "I would follow you guys anywhere. I just can't come where you're going. Trust me, it would make everything harder. Deep down, Edea knows it, too, but she's too nice to let it stop her from asking me to go with you two."
Raijin swung his legs back and forth, frowning. "Is it... Does it have to do... with the nosebleeds?" he asked.
Seifer's shoulders tensed. This had never come up in conversation before and it was shocking to hear Raijin mention it, rather than Fujin who tended to be more inquiring. He didn't consider Raijin to be of inferior intelligence, but he was a little slower on the uptake. The fact that he had even connected the two was quite a surprise.
He wanted to lie, he really wanted to avoid this and not to dump the weight on anyone else's shoulders, but he felt that if he did, Raijin and Fujin would cut him out of their lives for good. He owed them the truth, or at least part of it for everything they had done for him.
"Yes," Seifer admitted. "If... If I'm near her, it'll get worse. For her, too, I think."
Raijin nodded. "Okay. So we'll stay here-"
"No."
"—and we can leave Balamb. Maybe go to Trabia, ya know? Take up snowboard-"
"Raijin," Seifer said, raising his voice. "No. You can't put your lives on hold for me again. I let it happen once. Never again."
"Friends stick around for rough times, ya know?" Raijin insisted. "Me and Fuj-"
"Are too good and have too much potential to waste it washing my bloody shirts and sitting by my bedside all night long," Seifer cut him off. "As your friend, I'm asking you to do something for yourselves. I'm done dragging you down with me."
Raijin shook his head and forced a grin on his lips. Seifer could tell it was far from genuine. "Don't be so melodramatic, ya know?"
"I'm not. I'm being realistic," Seifer said. "This... thing, it'll pass. It's happening less and less often. I'll go see a doctor if it makes you feel better."
"No, you won't."
"I will," Seifer said. "I promise."
Seifer watched him as he thought it over, frowning. He wasn't certain if Raijin had believed him or not, but despite the promise, Seifer could see that Raijin knew as well as he did it would be futile. There was nothing a doctor could do for him right now. He doubted there was anyone out there who could tell him how to fight this, but he had been truthful; it was slowing down day by day.
"Won't be the same without you, ya know," Raijin said eventually, sighing.
"Yeah... Maybe our paths will cross again some day," Seifer said. "We can still visit each other. I don't want to cut off ties with you any more than you do. But this is something you have to do, and maybe I need some time to think about what I'm going to do."
"You'd better," Raijin growled. "I mean it, man. If I come back to visit and find you still drinking beers and lazing around getting a tan all day long, I'm dragging you down to Centra with us."
Seifer chuckled. "Deal. You gonna tell Fuj I'm sorry? Explain everything?"
Raijin nodded.
"Thanks. You should probably go finish packing," Seifer said. "I won't be long. I'll help you out and we'll do something fun tonight and tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay."
There was defeat in Raijin's voice, as if he were certain they would never see each other again. Seifer didn't know if they would, but he was determined that letting them live their own life, even for a little while, would finally free them all.
"Hey, we're still a posse. Always will be," he said, holding out his fist.
Raijin looked at the fist, then at him, and instead of pumping it, like they always did, let out a shuddering breath and threw his massive arms around Seifer, drawing him into a hug.
The intensity of it made him cringe at first, but he didn't fight it, figuring this was a good way to say goodbye. They didn't hug, they never did, but if there was a time when it would be appropriate, it was right now.
Letting out a sigh, Seifer smiled and gave Raijin a pat on the back. I'll miss you.
August 10th 4997 M.G.
Kaveria, Centra
"Possession? Possession? Do you honestly expect me to address my people, people who have suffered greatly from this war and now demand justice, and tell them all is forgiven because of a completely unfounded claim of Sorceress possession?"
Cid removed his glasses and looked up at the incensed speaker, Orunitia Dorcas. "Yes," he said calmly.
Quistis winced at the uproar that followed this statement. It took a lot of bravado for someone to stand up before the International Alliance and speak so openly; her admiration of Cid had just now reached a new high.
She still felt a little intimidated to be present in such a high-brow affair. To be allowed entrance into the very building where the leaders of all nations deliberated on matters that affected the whole planet was humbling, to say the least. The end of the war had not only brought an influx of beasts, but global confusion as well.
Their world was still a place very much broken, and it would take time before any modicum of order and true peace was restored. Citizens were still in the dark over how exactly the war had ended; Sorceress possession, time compression and even magic, something so ordinary and usual in the SeeD world, was foreign to the average man. The after-effects of the last Lunar Cry were still a threat to their lands, and even if their preconceptions of mercenaries had somewhat faded in the wake celebration, it wouldn't be long before they returned.
As a SeeD, it was easy to see only the outcome and focus on everything that had been saved. However, the fact remained that in the past year, lives and livelihoods had been destroyed, and the culprit in many cases wasn't Galbadia. The hour of judgment was nigh, and if their opponents had to be condemned, so would they.
Cid was working hard in minimizing the upcoming fallout, as well as preserving the positive public image the SeeDs were currently enjoying. Balamb Garden had never before been more flooded with requests for help, but neither had it been more broke. Every mission they accepted concerning the Lunar Cry swarm was strictly pro bono, as per Cid's orders. In other words, charity work.
In the midst of all this, the five SeeDs responsible for Ultimecia's downfall had been asked to appear before the International Alliance. The public demanded answers, and this assembly was held for that exact reason.
Unfortunately for SeeDs, all their answers required their audience make a substantial leap of faith and take their word for everything that had happened. Considering the public's opinion of mercenaries and the –not unsubstantial- damage caused by the 'good guys' en route to victory, Quistis couldn't blame Madame Dorcas, Trabia's President, for reacting the way she just had.
"Settle down, please," said Fabian Perry, Honorable Head of the International Alliance, General Assembly. He gave the sound block on his table a few raps with his gavel, bringing order back to the room.
Orunitia Dorcas, a middle-aged woman with a hard face and salt-and-pepper hair worn in a tight bun, resumed her seat. She interlaced her fingers on the lap of her no-nonsense black pantsuit and glared at Cid, still fuming.
"Now," Fabian Perry said, rubbing his temple with one finger. He was a small man with a pinched face; this whole situation had quite clearly put him under so much stress that he looked even smaller underneath his gown and giant glasses. "While I understand that the use of magic in warfare is not something the average man can fully grasp, I have to second President Dorcas's request for some tangible proof. Headmaster Kramer, I am sure you realize your word alone is not going to please the members of this assembly. I- yes, Mr. President, what is it?"
Quistis, along with every other head in the room, turned to Laguna who had just requested to speak.
"Your honor," he began. "Speaking as the President of a nation that has witnessed the power of a Sorceress first-hand, I would like to say a few things in Headmaster Kramer's defense."
It was the very first time Quistis had ever seen him act like an actual President, instead of the charming, if a little awkward, Galbadian soldier. She entertained herself with the thought that his leg was probably killing him right now, but he hid it well and spoke like he had no less right to be in that room than anyone else.
"The only people who can offer any credibility to the claims of the five SeeDs were denied attendance to this meeting," Laguna went on. "One has to wonder whether this was done intentionally, in order to further demonize an organizationwhich, quite frankly, put an end to a horrible war."
"And you are referring to...?" Fabian Perry asked.
"Former Sorceress Edea, Sorceress Rinoa and Dr. Lüel Odine," Laguna replied.
"President Perry, put an end to this mockery, please," Axeleon Pyke interjected, visibly angry and offended.
The new Galbadian President, Quistis thought, recognizing the young, red-haired man from the hundreds of pictures she had seen on newspapers. There had yet to be an official election, but he was now acting as Galbadia's interim President, taking care of all he could before the country was ready to elect a new representative. According to what she had heard, he was not a man who took kindly to magic.
"Sorceress Edea is Headmaster Kramer's wife," President Pyke said. "Sorceress Rinoa is not only a friend to these SeeDs, but if the rumors are to be believed, Commander Leonhart's lover as well. Commander Leonhart is President Loire's son. Am I the only one who can see the conflict of interest here? How can any of them be considered credible witnesses by any stretch of the imagination?"
"I ordered my men to kill my wife when she became dangerous," Cid said, his voice dropping an octave. "Is that credible enough for you?"
Silence fell in the room. While it was common knowledge by now that Cid had taken all the necessary steps once his wife had become possessed, no-one expected him to be so frank and open about it, including President Pyke, who cleared his throat and straightened his tie in dignified manner.
"The fact still remains that having the two Sorceresses here poses a great danger," he said. "If your claims of Sorceress possession are to be believed, who's to say our minds won't be manipulated?"
"That is precisely why I mentioned Dr. Odine," Laguna answered. "He is the only scientist to have ever worked so extensively on the nature of magic, and is, as such, a very dependable source. If it is mind control or any sort of magical retaliation you fear, I'm sure the Sorceresses in question wouldn't object to appear before you wearing Odine Bangles. That is, shackles that are designed to suppress the magical powers of a Sorceress."
"If I may," spoke Qwon Malvolio, a thin, gangly man in his fifties with shallow skin that Quistis recognized as Trabia Garden's Headmaster. "I would like to second President Loire's request for the presence of the two Sorceresses, as well as Dr. Odine. They will no doubt shed light to many of our questions. President Pyke, if it is a villain you're looking for, I suggest you track down Seifer Almasy-"
"Qwon, don't-" Cid began, shaking his head.
Quistis was momentarily shocked by the familiarity with which Cid addressed the other Headmaster. It was clear they knew each other well, but she hadn't expected Cid to speak so casually when dismissing what the other man was saying.
"—whose absence should be far more alarming to all of you than the nature of magic and para-magic," Malvolio went on. "What exactly is your Head of National Security doing, President Pyke, if not hunting down-"
Quistis had by now gotten used to the fact that a speaker would hardly be able to make his argument before someone else cut in, so it came as no surprise when Headmaster Malvolio was interrupted. What was surprising, however, was who spoke up next. If Quistis could have taken a guess, she wouldn't have picked the large, daunting man with the buzz-cut sitting next to the Balmish President.
"Seifer Almasy," Kale Gautler, General of the Balmish Army, said. "And his two accomplices have been offered immunity by Balamb. We are aware of their exact whereabouts, but until a trial is set, I refuse to disclose their location. Guilty though he may be, the boy deserves a fair trial and sanctuary from a lynch mob. It is not up to you to decide what sort of punishment he should receive. And while we're on that matter, declaring a bounty on his head and flooding Balamb's borders with greedy opportunists eager to participate in a sickening cat-and-mouse game is stepping over the line, President Pyke."
"They know?" Zell growled in Quistis's ear. "They know where he is and they won't-"
"Shhhh," Quistis hissed at him, though not unkindly. She was just as surprised as Zell was at this new piece of information, but she wanted to hear the rest.
"Enough, enough," Fabian Perry said, resorting to his gavel for order once more. "This is not a courtroom, ladies and gentlemen. We are interested in facts, not open accusations and thinly veiled threats. Still, General Gautler raises a good point. Before any decisions can be made, all those involved in this war are to be cross-examined and tried in a legitimate court-martial."
Quistis's reaction, a sharp gasp of disbelief, was instantly shared by her peers. Court-martial? she wondered. Hyne, they're going to take us all down one by one.
"To that end," Perry went on. "I shall be appointing a judge to oversee the entire process, and I hereby proclaim Centra as neutral ground for the tribunal to take place in. Balamb Garden SeeDs and Headmasters, you may be excused."
"Come on," Cid whispered to his five men and stood up from his chair, his face a perfect mask of composure.
Quistis shared a look of foreboding with Irvine, and along with everyone else, followed Cid out of the chamber. She could feel every pair of eyes on them as they made their way out, and it was only when the heavy doors closed behind them that she could breathe easily again.
Selphie was the one who spoke first. "Okay, lemme make sure I got this straight," she said, holding her head with both hands. "We saved the world... and now we're going to be tried for it?"
"Not here," Cid said sharply, and continued to walk down the hallway.
The walk outside and into the SeeD van that had brought them there was unbearable. Quistis was brimming with questions; she wished she had brought a notepad and a pen along, because with every step she took, a new query emerged. By the time they were out of earshot, she feared she would have forgotten it all.
Once they were all inside the standard issue van and on the way back to Garden, Cid pushed a small button by his seat that put up a sound barrier between the driver's seat and the back of the van. "All right," he began, adjusting his glasses. "Yes, every single one of us will have to be tried. Saving the world wasn't exactly a quick or mess-free business. We can't expect our opponents to pay the price while we sit nicely and bask in our glory."
"But, sir!" Selphie exclaimed, scandalized. "What did we-?"
"Destroyed property in Galbadia, Balamb and Fisherman's Horizon, aided a General in the attempted murder of an ambassador of his country," Cid said. "Believe me, they can and will find more than enough reasons to put us on the stand. Whether we're guilty or not is an entirely different issue."
"Everyone knows wars are messy," Selphie said. "You can't completely escape friendly fire and casualties on both sides. Why the distinction this time?"
"Because there's no evidence we won the war in the first place," Quistis said, frowning. "Our word is pretty much all the proof we have. I don't like it any more than you do, but I can see where they're coming from."
"Puh-lease," Selphie said. "Whenever it suits them, our organization," she said, putting up air quotes. "Is the best thing since sliced bread. As soon as we win a friggin' war for them, the bitching and the vilifying starts all over again."
"Yes, well, there's talk of changing that for good," Cid said grimly. "Mercenary definitions set by the Blanche Convention are what allow us to stay in business in the first place. A loophole, that's it. So be careful, all of you. Don't appear to be even the least bit displeased by the coming events. We have to maintain our positive image, or the governments might demand a re-definition of what constitutes as a mercenary in upcoming conventions."
"Would they really go that far?" Squall asked. "Selphie is right. SeeDs are far too useful to many governments to be completely disbanded."
"True," Cid said. "But all they're trying to do is appear to be opposed to mercenaries. They want us to become dirty little secrets they can dig up whenever there's trouble, put an end to our autonomy. They would never completely shut us down, but they could make our life and work radically different."
"So what now?" Squall asked.
"Now, Perry will assign a judge," Cid replied. "We will be contacted soon enough with the date and time of the trials. I wouldn't be surprised if they give us strict instructions on what is to be done with Edea and Rinoa until the tribunal comes up; they'll certainly do it for Seifer, Fujin and Raijin."
" 'What is to be done with them'?" Squall repeated, his eyes darkening. Quistis could tell he already had a pretty good idea of where this was going, and she didn't like it one bit. "What does that even mean?"
It was Quistis who answered his question. "Secure locations," she said. "To make sure neither of them can flee and go into hiding or, alter the proceedings in any way to their favor."
"You mean they could take Rinoa away?" Zell asked.
Yes, Quistis thought. And this time, with the power of entire nations behind that decision, Rinoa would stay away for good. Quistis felt a sharp pang in her chest at that thought. Not only because she knew it would tear Squall apart, but because she had started to grow close to the young Sorceress. With the exception of Xu, she and Selphie were the only people she had that could be considered friends. She supposed Irvine, Zell and Squall fell under the same category, but it was different. She couldn't share with them the kind of things she had shared with the two girls during the past year.
"It is likely," Cid said. Upon seeing that Squall was about to protest, he held one hand up to silence him. "I will talk to Laguna if that happens. See if the judge will allow Rinoa to be held in Esthar until then, under observation by Dr. Odine. It is not perfect, but she will be with people she knows. Laguna wouldn't let any harm come to her."
Quistis could see that the very last thing Squall wanted was for Rinoa to spend time with his father, but he understood that it was truly the better of two evils. Coming to terms with the idea that the President of Esthar was his father was already hard enough, made even worse by the fact that Laguna had simply blurted it out in his excitement. He meant well, Quistis knew, but Squall had been in shock ever since then.
To have Rinoa spend the following months in the company of someone Squall feels abandoned him for nearly eighteen years must be torture, Quistis mused.
"Now let me make this clear, because the coming months will be hard on all of us," Cid said. "I would never ask you to lie under oath, but I think we can all agree that Ellone should be left out of this debacle. She has suffered enough, and the whole time compression business took a lot out of her, both mentally and physically. It will be long before she makes a full recovery, and I for one wouldn't like to involve her more than we already have."
"You mean deny she played any part in the war, sir?" Irvine asked.
"Exactly."
Quistis, though a horrible liar, was just as determined as everyone else was to protect Ellone at all costs, even if it meant she would suffer inside all through the cross-examination. Still, the situation wasn't that simple. "Headmaster, I'd be glad to do this for Ellone, but how can we cover it up?" she asked. "Ultimecia scoured the globe looking for her, citizens were repeatedly told to report any sightings... there will be witnesses to confirm that."
"We won't deny the fact that Ultimecia was looking for her," Cid explained. "We'll simply have to come up with a reason that doesn't expose her special abilities and will require her to attend court very little, if at all."
"The White SeeDs," Squall said, staring at his bent knees. "We could say she was their leader. Ultimecia wanted to destroy all SeeDs and I imagine if she knew they existed, she would have wanted them dead as well."
Cid nodded. "We'll go over this with our attorney," he said. "See what he thinks. Our first order of business is to get you all prepped for the trial. As of now, you are all excused from any upcoming missions. Surviving this is out number one priority."
September 13th 4997 M.G.
Balamb City, Balamb
He wasn't really big on procrastination. Never had been. And yet with every day that went by, he would say to himself: Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll start figuring things out. Tomorrow became next week, next week became next month, and it was now nearly two months after Raijin and Fujin had left Balamb.
Seifer had yet to fulfill any of the promises he'd made Raijin. Every morning, he'd wake up before the alarm clock went off and just stare at the ceiling for hours until he forced himself to get up and go to work. He never thought about anything specific; he never allowed himself to. Keeping everything vague and focusing on the day ahead of him was easier.
He still went fishing every afternoon, still brought a six-pack of beers along with him, and never left the pier until the sun came down.
That day, he was down to his third beer when he heard footsteps behind him. He didn't pay any attention to the person approaching. The pier was secluded enough, but the occasional lone fisherman would show up from time to time. Seifer tightened the line a little and secured the pole on the platform, reaching over for the pack of Ochus next to him and slipping out a cigarette.
He couldn't see his lighter anywhere, and began looking into his pockets. All of a sudden, he head a click from his right and saw the lit flame of a lighter hover before him. Blinking, he turned to his right to see who had offered him a light.
It was a man, crouched down to Seifer's level and holding out the lighter with a smile on his face. Seifer muttered a quick 'Thanks' under his breath, lit up and scooted backwards to get a better look at the stranger. The man was significantly older than him. How old Seifer wouldn't say, but he appeared to be close to his fifties. He had a thick mane of short hair, most of it gone gray from age, but there were still some red tufts scattered in between that betrayed the man's natural hair color. He had the wildest sideburns Seifer had even seen on a person, and he was wearing a uniform. A very familiar uniform.
"Are you Seifer? Seifer Almasy?" he asked, pocketing the lighter. His voice was deep and resonating.
Seifer blew a cloud of smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "Judging by your uniform, you already know who I am. What do you want?" he said, frowning. The last thing he needed right now was to deal with SeeD.
The man took a seat next to him and tutted. "Is this how you always speak to someone who was kind enough to offer you a light?"
Seifer glared at him. Galbadian accent. So he's not with Balamb or Trabia. Well, at least not Balamb, he thought. I would've recognized him.
"I have a proposition for you," the old SeeD went on, undeterred by Seifer's clearly hostile attitude.
"Shove it up your ass."
"We call it 'arse' over my side of the pond," the man said, chuckling. "And you haven't even heard my proposition yet; why are you so quick to dismiss it?"
"You're here for one of two reasons," Seifer said, holding up his index finger. "One, you're looking to score, in which case I'm flattered, but try to grope me and you'll be eating out of a straw, or two," Seifer went on, holding up another finger as the man looked amused. "You're here because SeeD wants something from me, in which case the answer 'Fuck no' doesn't even begin to cover how uninterested I am."
"Thankfully for my safety, it's number two," the man said. "But are you sure you have no intention whatsoever of trying for SeeD again?"
Seifer frowned. "Try for SeeD?" he repeated. "That's what you came here to offer me?"
The man nodded.
Seifer narrowed his eyes at him. "Who are you?" he asked. Neither Garden wanted anything to do with him. Not Balamb and certainly not Trabia. As for Galbadia Garden, they had a bounty on his head. Until the court-martial scheduled on December, Balamb offered him sanctuary (at the cost of his weapon and a ban on magic use), but as soon as that was over, he had no doubt their bloodhounds would be on him like white on rice.
"Jonah Meric," the man said, extending his hand for Seifer to shake. "Headmaster of Galbadia Garden."
Seifer stared at the proffered hand, then at the man called Meric and burst out laughing. "Get the fuck out of here," he said, and tossed his cigarette into the sea, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry, are you being literal or metaphorical?"
"Both," Seifer said. "You're no more the Headmaster of G-Garden than I am the Duchess of Dollet."
"I have the paperwork to prove it, but I really don't understand why I have to," Meric said. "Is it really that hard to believe I'm with Galbadia Garden?"
"You do know who I am, right? Unless you landed on this planet less than four months ago, you'd know what I did last year. Everyone in SeeD knows," Seifer said.
"If you're talking about the bounty on your head, I've called the whole thing off," Meric said. "First thing I did when I was made Headmaster."
"And why the hell would you do that?"
"Because I want you to join us," Meric explained. "Here's the paperwork that proves I'm not an impostor," he went on, placing a folder on the ground next to Seifer. "City Hall can confirm the authenticity of it all. Think about what I said, and if you're interested, meet me at the Balamb Breeze pub at nine o' clock tonight. If not, come anyway. You can hand me the folder back and I'll never bother you again."
And just as quietly and unexpectedly as he had come, the stranger left.
For the longest time, Seifer didn't even bother opening the envelope. He tried to focus on his fishing, but it didn't work. He fought the urge to look, to go check if Jonah Meric had been telling him the truth, insisting he didn't have to know because he didn't care.
Later that evening, after he had checked and found out the papers were indeed genuine, he tried to convince himself that would be the end of it. Now his curiosity had been sated, and he could go back to his normal routine. Seifer knew there was a hidden agenda behind the offer and tried to remind himself that this was exactly why he wanted nothing to do with SeeD ever again. Too many politics, too many games, and he was tired of being their pawn.
And yet he found that his whole day was spent agonizing over what would happen if he didn't at least try, if he didn't even accept a simple invitation for drinks. The promise he had made to Raijin was eating him up inside, and there was no alleviating the feeling he would be betraying a friend if he didn't give this a shot.
I'm doing this for Raijin. One drink and I'm gone, Seifer thought for the umpteenth time as he got dressed and made his way towards the hotel.
He told himself he was only going to return the folder, but deep down, he was curious to know what this Meric's deal was. He was curious to know why he had withdrawn the bounty and exactly what he wanted from him. He doubted he'd get the truth out of the man, but at the very least, he could score a free drink out of the meeting.
He found Meric in the pub at nine o' clock sharp, just as he'd said he would. He was still in his SeeD uniform, sitting on a stool by the bar and watching the Sphere game while sipping his drink. Seifer took a deep breath and approached the bar.
He tossed the folder in front of Meric and took a seat on the stool next to him. The older man turned to acknowledge Seifer, looking pleased with himself; he was undoubtedly certain he'd say yes.
"So... you're legit," Seifer said.
"Indeed I am," Meric said, nudging the folder to the side.
Seifer held up a hand to get the bartender's attention and ordered a Reagan, neat. Meric said nothing, waiting until they both had a drink in hand before he spoke again.
"Have you given any thought to my proposal?" he asked, getting straight to the point.
"I don't even know what your proposal is," Seifer said, reaching for the nuts.
"I told you, I want you to join our Garden and earn your SeeDship there," Meric repeated.
"Yeah, yeah, I heard that part," Seifer said. "What I didn't hear was the part where you tell me what's in it for you," he finished, pointing at Meric with his index finger.
Jonah Meric shrugged. "Can't my motives be purely altruistic?"
Seifer nearly spat his mouthful of Reagan, laughing. "I won't even dignify that with a response. So... What do you want?"
"Despite your... sabbatical, if you will," Meric began. Seifer had to arch an eyebrow at that; he'd heard it called many things, but sabbatical was a first. "You remain one of the best gunblade specialists in the world. You'd be a great asset to our force."
"You didn't get to be a Headmaster without some idea of what the hell is going on right now," Seifer said. "You can't not know that SeeD and the world governments are out for my blood."
"I am aware of the baggage that comes along with your skills, yes," Meric said. "The trial is on December, am I correct?"
Seifer nodded.
"My lawyers can free you of any and all charges. You'll walk out of that courtroom a free man."
Seifer had heard enough. It was one thing to expect to hear a lie, or half a truth at best, but it was completely another to be treated like an idiot. He set his glass down with a loud thud and turn to glare at Meric. "Cut the crap."
The old man arched his eyebrows at him.
"You can't possibly tell me you have nothing to gain other than me as a SeeD under your command. You wouldn't be offering all this if there wasn't a catch," Seifer said.
Thankfully, for Seifer's temper and sanity, Meric dropped the act and held his hands up to placate him. "All right, guilty as charged," he admitted.
"Let's hear it then. What do you get out of me joining you?"
"How much time do you have?" Meric asked.
"I'm not in a hurry," Seifer said.
"Good," Meric said, and turned to the bartender. "Give us the bottle, please," he said.
Seifer snorted. "If you think you'll get me drunk enough to accept, you're out of luck. Not even Raijin can put me under the table and he weighs three times as much has I do," he said. All right, so that was a lie, but Meric didn't have to know.
"I'm just trying to be friendly here," Meric said, refilling both their glasses. "If you're going to hear my sob story, I'd better treat you to a couple of drinks."
"Sob story, huh?" Seifer said, taking a sip out of his glass. "Fun." He was in no mood to hear what was probably a lie-ridden tearjerker, but at least, as he had hoped, he was going to get a few drinks out of the deal. The bottle of Reagan Meric just bought was far better than the cat piss he'd been drinking, anyway.
In fact, it was damn good. It was the kind of Reagan Rinoa's father used to drink. It was one of the few things he remembered, or rather wanted to remember about Fury Caraway. The man was intimidating like hell, but he sure knew how to drink. Seifer distinctly remembered Rinoa tipping the bottle against their glasses with the utmost care so as not to spill more than a tiny sip, telling him that her father always told her this bottle of Reagan cost more than most people made in a year.
Fuck, don't think about Rinoa, he grumbled inwardly. He so didn't need a reminder of the war right now. If he was going to hear a sob story, he sure as hell didn't need to remember his own sob story as well.
"Let's start at the beginning, shall we?" Meric asked.
"Let's shall."
Whatever Seifer expected to hear, what Meric said next definitely wasn't it. "Are you a religious man, Seifer?" he asked.
Seifer blinked. "Er... not particularly."
"Me neither," Meric said. "But I find the Codex Caelestis to be a literary masterpiece. I read it- forgive the pun- religiously, once every month or so."
"Good... for you?" Seifer said, not really knowing what was the appropriate thing to say or what on earth Meric was getting at.
"My favorite passage is the story of Alcon, the Just, which supposedly took place nearly four thousand years ago," Meric went on.
"Wow... When you said 'the beginning' you weren't kidding," Seifer said, now hoping he would get drunk soon enough.
"I won't take up much of your time, don't worry," Meric said, grinning. "Where was I? Ah, yes... See, Alcon was a good man, a man with his heart in the right place. I won't bore you with the specifics of the story,"
Thank Hyne.
"But suffice to say he was... misunderstood by many. He was passionate about doing good in the world, being on the side of justice, but his actions were often controversial. He was of the firm opinion that the rules don't apply to all situations. A man who steals to feed his starving family is not a criminal, a person who kills someone in self-defense is not a murderer and so on."
Seifer had to try hard to suppress a smirk. Of course, he thought wryly. That's what he's getting at; controversial missions. "I was always taught that the ends don't justify the means," he said.
"Of course not. Not when you harm others to achieve your goals."
"Exactly," Seifer said, munching on an almond. "So why don't you put the religious allegories aside and tell me what kind of dirty work you'd have me do under your command."
Meric shook his head. "You misunderstand me. Alcon's story doesn't apply to you and the work you'd be asked to do in Galbadia Garden, it applies to me," he explained. "I was dishonorably discharged from the Galbadian Army two months ago."
Hmmm, okay, I was wrong, this story is interesting, Seifer thought. "What for?"
"Breaking the rules."
"No shit, I never would have guessed. What. For?"
"You've heard about the Lunar Cry, haven't you?"
Seifer gave Meric an are-you-kidding-me glare.
"Oh, right, I forgot," Meric said, wincing. "Anyway, what you may not have heard is that the fallout has not been fully cleared out yet," he said. "During time compression the monsters found a way to... relocate," Meric said. "We still don't know how."
I know, Seifer thought, grimacing. It was the gates. When he'd been wandering around during time compression, he'd come across one of them. Lost and confused, he had stepped through and found himself transported to- Fuck, I don't even know how to describe it in my head, he thought. It was a giant chain with three gates hovering next to it. Worst acid trip ever. He'd tried one of the other three doors and just like that, he was back into the world, but it wasn't Esthar, where he'd initially been. He was pretty sure he had somehow been transported to Centra.
He still had no explanation whatsoever about what the gates were there for, or why they had been created in the first place, but if he had discovered them, it was safe to say the monsters could have, too.
"For months, military organizations from all over the world, including SeeD, have been dispatching teams wherever infestations have reached critical levels," Meric went on. "My battalion was sent to Northern Esthar."
Northern Esthar, huh? "Grandidi Forest?" Seifer asked.
"Yes."
"Grandidi was hell even without the Lunar Cry. I hear it got hit pretty bad," he said, for a moment feeling sorry for the stranger sitting next to him if he had faced the horrors of that Hyne forsaken place.
"It did," Meric said grimly. "When we got there, even the few remote villages in the area had been nearly wiped out. We were ordered to protect the Kasanagi province, a tri-village area where the situation was... bad." His fingers shook as he said that last word.
"One of the villages was already abandoned. We spent nearly one month there, and there seemed to be no end to it. Wave after wave, they would come and destroy everything in their path. We held the threat back as best we could, but we were losing people fast. On the eve of the... incident, I sent two messengers to request aid from Esthar. My superiors didn't like that. They wanted us to withdraw.
They said we'd done enough, and when the infestation crossed the border, it would be Esthar's problem. To make a long story short, I stayed behind. A few of my men joined me. They all understood that if we let the wave cross over, Esthar was done for. They had few northern fortifications as their own forces were battling the threat from the south border. My team and I were unofficially discharged on the spot. Two days later, the Esthar reinforcements came, and we put an end to the infestation. The few of us who made it back to Galbadia were then officially discharged."
"You're a fucking hero then," Seifer said wryly, once Meric had finished his narration. "Still don't see where I come into the picture."
"I was discharged for doing something my superiors didn't like, but as it turns out, that something ended up helping a lot of people," he said, and there was a tiny smile on his lips. He didn't look the least bit sorry to have seen the last of the Galbadian army. "You once did the same."
"I did?" Seifer said, arching an eyebrow.
"Dollet. If you hadn't insisted on investigating the communication tower, Balamb Garden wouldn't have had a clue about the imminent threat."
Seifer didn't bother asking how Meric knew all that. As soon as he'd been made Headmaster, he would've gained access to all past and present SeeD records. "And look where that got me," Seifer said, downing his glass.
"You made a few... bad decisions afterward," Meric conceded. "But that very first one impressed the hell out of me" he said. Strangely enough, it sounded honest. "I need men like you. If we're going to rebuild Galbadia Garden from the top down, we have to be willing to take a few risks. And that's where you come in."
Seifer pushed the glass away before Meric had time to refill it. Enough, he thought. Enough now. Not even a whole case of this is worth bringing up old ghosts. "Look... I appreciate the offer, but the answer is no," he said. "I'm fine right where I am. If I get caught in the middle of all this Garden crap once again, I'll make the same mistakes. And I'm really not eager to take another beating from the Merry Sextet."
"Fine?" Meric scoffed. "Boy, you're as far from fine as you possibly could be," he said, and it was the first time since they met that his friendly demeanor vanished. "What are you going to do for the rest of your life? Fish and drink yourself into a stupor every day because you're bored out of your mind? That is, assuming you don't end up behind bars come December."
Seifer scowled. "What's it to you? I have options-"
"You have nothing. I'm offering something. Do the smart thing and accept."
Seifer's scowl deepened. He was glad his gunblade had been confiscated, otherwise the old fucktard would be choking in a pool of his own blood right about now. "Fuck this. I don't have to listen to this crap," he said, and dug into his pocket for his wallet, with every intention to pay for his share and leave.
Jonah Meric reached down and grabbed Seifer's wrist. "What do you have to lose, Seifer? All I'm asking for are three months. If, by the time your trial comes up, you don't want to join me, then you're free to go."
"Let go," Seifer growled.
"Once the trial is over and you're free of all charges, you can leave."
Without moving a single inch, Seifer glared at Meric out of the corner of his eye. "You're willing to waste time and money on me, keep me out of jail, even if it means I walk out in the end?"
"Yes."
Is he for real? Seifer wondered, staring at Meric in disbelief.
He could think of a million ways to say no to this insane proposal. He should say no. There was no guarantee whatsoever that this person wasn't using Seifer to advance his own agenda, as had happened in the past. There was no way he could agree to something like this. He wouldn't.
"Well?" Meric asked.
Seifer clenched his jaw."When do we leave?"
October 6th 4997 M.G.
Balamb Garden
Squall rested his cheek against his balled fist, staring at Rinoa's sleeping form.
The only light in his room came from the moonlight that filtered through the window. It fell on her face and shoulders, tinting her pale skin with a silvery glow. She looked more beautiful than ever.
The situation was surreal. This girl, this amazing, angelic woman, liked him just as he was, warts and all. She loved him, she'd said, him, who was so damaged and messed up and she wanted him. It doesn't make sense, things just don't happen this way in the real world, he wanted to rationalize, but this was real, this had happened, and Squall realized he had been waiting for this ever since he had kissed her out in that balcony.
Tonight, they had made love for the first time.
Part of him hated the circumstances it had all taken place under. Whenever he'd fantasized about this moment in the past, Rinoa didn't have to leave the next morning for Esthar for Hyne knew how long and he hadn't acted like a clueless idiot for the better part of the night.
Even with her imminent departure, Squall hadn't considered taking the first step toward this. Selphie had organized a small get-together for them all to give Rinoa a proper goodbye. When he asked Rinoa to leave at some point after midnight and spend some time alone, all he'd wanted to do was take a walk with her and give her a small gift he had picked up for her from his latest mission in Galbadia.
When they reached his room, Squall immediately went for the gift, whereas Rinoa had other ideas. After a long, long, and painfully awkward conversation, Rinoa had realized Squall was being literal when he asked her to make a small stop at his dorm, and Squall realized what it was Rinoa had in turn imagined.
…...
Squall looked away, unable to face Rinoa at the moment. It was as if someone had turned the thermostat up to a thousand degrees. A deep blush seared his cheeks and he could do nothing to stop it.
He had thought about this in the past, of course he had. The few stolen moments he'd so far enjoyed in Rinoa's company were squeezed in between responsibilities, friends and family, but they had been passionate. Once or twice, his hand had accidentally slipped, but she had responded with fervor. There never seemed to be enough time to fully explore, to experiment, and there was part of him who wanted that, for the simple reason that before meeting her, he had never so much as kissed anyone.
Five months after that first kiss, he was now facing the opportunity of doing something he had long yearned for, but had also dreaded. He had never asked -nor did he think he wanted to know- how experienced Rinoa was, but judging from what had just happened, she felt far more comfortable than he did in initiating intimacy. He didn't want to think about the implications of that.
"Anyway..." Rinoa said, putting a stop to Squall's train of thought. "What was it you wanted to get?"
Squall looked up sharply, feeling even worse than before. How long had he been silent? Had he hurt her by avoiding her eyes? Did she expect a discussion over this?
Realizing this was probably the worst possible time to be silent again, he urged himself to speak up and say something, anything. "I uh... got something. For you. From Roshfall," he said, indicating the package in his hands.
"For me? You mean a gift?"
He nodded in response.
Rinoa stepped closer to him, holding out her hand. "Can I see it?"
He handed her the little package, which suddenly seemed too little and too pathetic and Hyne, why hadn't he bought them from a real jewelry store instead of a cheap little street vendor? Was he trying to add insult to injury? Maybe it wasn't too late to yank it out of her hands... Though he realized that would make things even worse, if such a thing was possible.
Before he could make a decision, Rinoa opened the package and tilted it, spilling the contents into her outstretched palm. Two small earrings fell out. The vendor had called them dangle earrings, if memory served. They were of simple design, made with silver and ending in a flower-like pattern of small, light blue stones.
Rinoa gasped. "Squall! These are lovely," she said, and a wide smile illuminated her face. "How did-?"
"The vendor asked me what you looked like," Squall replied. "I described you, what you usually wear and then she asked for your birth date. She said you'd like them," he explained, unsure whether he should sound confident or apologetic. What if she was only being polite?
"I do!" Rinoa said, smiling. "Aquamarine is my birth stone and I really like it, so most of my jewelry is made with aquamarines."
Squall was certain his stomach had grown a life of its own by now. The churning wouldn't stop, and upon mention of aquamarines, things became worse. He knew next to nothing about jewelry, but he did know aquamarines were expensive. And these earrings were not. "They're not... actual aquamarines, just the color-" he began, grimacing.
"I don't care," Rinoa said, and it sounded like she meant it. "They're beautiful, thank you." she said, and placed them back in the package. She set it down on the desk and approached him, putting her arms around his neck again. "That was really sweet of you," she said, and gave him a light peck on the lips.
Squall put his arms around her, feeling the spots where her hands touched bare flesh burn. He knew he had gravely disappointed her tonight, and perhaps the small gift had made up for a few things, but it wasn't nearly enough. He'd have to do better than this from now on. Much better.
"I'm sorry I ruined things earlier," he said, frowning. "I'll... I'll get better at this. I'll change," he promised.
Rinoa's facial expression didn't change. She continued to be as maddeningly sweet and understanding as ever, little though he deserved it. "Don't you dare," she said, and raked her fingers through his hair. "I love you just the way you are."
The second she spoke, Rinoa seemed to realize what she'd just said. Her face blanched, and she hurried to put her hands up to placate him. "Uhhh... Look, you don't have to- I mean, it's okay if you don't-"
He silenced her with a kiss.
Just like that, it no longer mattered that he was nervous and inexperienced and Hyne knew how very, very wrong for someone as beautiful as Rinoa. It didn't matter what she had done in previous relationships or with whom. It didn't matter that, in a perfect world, they'd have all the time in the world to explore each other and their budding relationship.
Rinoa kissed him back fervently, tightening her grip on his hair. He responded in kind, pressing on her waist to pull her body against his. They had shared passionate kisses before, but it had never been like this, nothing like this. There was a promise hidden underneath the surface, of what was to come, and he didn't even need to ask if they were on the same page. Her actions spoke loud and clear.
Feeling dizzy, but not at all eager to pull away, he reached down and picked her up into his arms. Their lips parted for a split second. Rinoa let out a gasp at the sudden gesture, and it was all she had time to do before their mouths joined again and Squall carried her toward the bed.
They did everything without thinking, without pausing for a single word or breath, and though Squall was marveling at how natural and amazing it felt to touch and undress her, it was Rinoa who first noticed his trembling hands. She pointed it out, caressing his face and asking if he was all right.
How could he respond to that? What could he say? I've never done this before? I haven't the first clue what I'm doing?
His hands felt too large and too callused and clumsy, he was scared his full weight on her would be too much, it would be uncomfortable, and he couldn't stop thinking about those damned videos they'd been forced to watch for Sex Ed as cadets. He felt anger, seething anger at whoever had been dumb enough to think that insert-part A-to-hole B-and-don't-forget-to-wear-a-condom was adequate instruction for such a situation. This was the kind of thing a parent would most likely explain with a little more tact and affection, but the last thing he needed to think about right now was his father.
That screwed up situation was a whole other matter and if he stopped to think that the President of Esthar, that bumbling buffoon who made lame jokes and got leg cramps and couldn't even walk across a room without causing some sort of catastrophe- for fuck's sake, why was he thinking about Laguna?
"I... I'm..." he stammered. "I haven't-"
Rinoa placed her index finger on his lips. "It's okay. If you want this, it doesn't matter to me."
"I want this. I want you. I love you, too," he wanted to say, and with a sinking feeling, he realized he hadn't said it back. He couldn't say it now, not right before this. He couldn't say it afterwards, it would be tacky and give her the impression he was only grateful she had slept with him. But if he waited too long, it might be too late, and she might feel hurt he had taken that long-
"I'm ready," he said, and it felt like the lamest thing in the world to say right now.
But Rinoa smiled, and for the next few minutes she was as patient and wonderful with him as she'd always been. Even more so because he was certain he must've made a fool of himself more than twice. It was over far too quick, something he was mortified about, and yet she whispered sweet things in his ear and it wasn't long before they tried again.
…...
Reliving the whole experience in his head, Squall smiled and inched closer to her under the blanket. Rinoa gave a sleepy moan as he put his arms around her waist. The way she fit against him so perfectly gave him goosebumps.
He didn't want to fall asleep, because once he did, it would be morning far too soon and Rinoa would have to go. It would be long before they would see each other again, and he feared that if something, anything went wrong, she would have to stay in Esthar forever.
We could run away, he mused, resting his chin against the crook of her smooth shoulder. Leave everything behind and disappear.
If it came down to this, he knew he wouldn't hesitate to abandon his life and everyone in it to keep her safe. He would do anything.
"I love you," he whispered.
Next to him, Rinoa shifted slightly and ran her fingers over his arms softly. "I know," she said, and went back to sleep with a smile on her face.
October 15th 4997 M.G.
Galbadia Garden
Jonah Meric's office was what anyone would've expected a disciplined soldier's office to look like. Spartan in decoration, it held only a desk, one office chair behind it, two comfortable, leather armchairs before it, and a large bookcase.
The only even marginally ornamental things in the room were a painting of Obel Lake on the wall behind the desk, and the few framed pictures scattered on the bookcase. Seifer didn't recognize any of the men and women in the photos, but he could see most of them were military personnel. His eyes had been going over the mediocre painting for the past two minutes; he know as much about art as he knew about Esthari paper-folding –which was to say nothing- but there was something soothing about the soft blues which the water of the lake had been painted in.
He shifted in one of the leather armchairs, and turned to look at the man sitting on its pair right across him, looking at him patiently but expectantly. He was in his sixties, he guessed, with short-cropped grey hair and dark brown eyes. He was dressed in a dark grey suit that looked tailor-made and very expensive.
"You know…" Seifer began, tilting his head to the side. "All this time, I never thought that anything I'd done was wrong… I just… I wanted someone to understand me, someone to stop and actually listen to what I have to say… I—" He suddenly stopped.
The older man nodded, his face betraying nothing but sympathy for the patient pouring his heart and soul out to him. "Go on, Seraph" he said. "Remember: no-one will judge you within the walls of this room. There's only acceptance and love to be found in here."
Seifer averted his gaze, looking embarrassed. "It hurt. No-one understood… It hurt to be alone…"
"Come on, Seraph," Dr. Stein urged him, using the fake name he and Jonah had agreed upon for these sessions. "Bit more. You're not going to get off that easily."
"It's just... hard. To talk about it."
"I know it is, son, but this is the only cure for what's ailing you. You need to let go of all your reservations and make an honest effort to talk about your past."
Seifer nodded, crossing his arms in front of his chest and tapping his foot on the floor nervously. "You know... Headmaster Meric has uhh... arranged other sessions in the past. With others, I mean-"
The older man cut him off, smiling. "I know, he told me that much," he said. "You found it hard to talk to them as well?"
"Yes, but... with you? It's different," Seifer said, now looking straight into the brown eyes of the well-dressed man before him. "I'm trying, I really am, I just... I need more time. But I think I've finally found someone I can talk to openly. Before I met you, I... I just felt angry all the time. Now... it's starting to get better."
Dr. Stein smiled kindly and pat Seifer on the knee. "You need to let go of your anger, Seraph. It has only brought you pain and misery. Admitting that much today was a huge step towards curing yourself of any vestiges of fear and malice," he said. "I'm very proud of you."
"Th-thank you."
"You're welcome. I'm here for you, Seraph," Dr. Stein went on. He had yet to remove his hand from Seifer's knee and kept on rubbing it tenderly. "You can talk to me about anything. Anything."
Seifer stared at the wrinkled hand on his knee and then at Dr. Stein. "So is this like a regular thing for you?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
The doctor blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"
"Get 'em while they're vulnerable?"
"I'm sorry, I don't unders-"
Seifer pulled his knee away and crossed his legs lazily. "You and I were one mushy confession away from a sloppy kiss and an awkward ass-fuck right here on this desk," he said, indicating Jonah's desk with his thumb.
Dr. Stein was up on his feet in milliseconds, looking affronted. "I BEG YOUR PARD-!"
"Save it. Those pedo eyes you gave me back there? Saw right through them. Who's the pro now, bitch?" he said with a smirk, giving Dr. Stein a one-fingered salute.
The doctor picked up his binder and stormed out of the room in a huff. Seifer followed him, his lips drawn into gleeful grin, watching as Dr. Stein wrenched the door open and sped right past the lobby in a hurried strut.
At the sound of the door opening, Jonah, who had been sitting quietly on a chair outside the office, looked up from the old issue of Weapons Monthly on his lap. His reading glasses had slipped down his nose and they almost dropped when he stood up quickly and tried to stop Dr. Stein from reaching the elevator.
"Eric? What—?" he began.
Dr. Stein smacked the elevator call button crankily, and turned to look at Jonah. "I quit," he said, his voice shaking with anger. Over Jonah's shoulder, he gave Seifer one last look of pure loathing and disappeared behind the sliding doors.
Jonah sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing his forehead.
Seifer watched the scene from the door, hands in his pockets, frame leaning against the threshold. Jonah still had his back turned to him, but Seifer knew that when he faced him, he would be livid. Or perhaps just disappointed. Let's see if we can go for livid. "Can I sue for sexual harassment?" Seifer asked, chuckling.
Jonah swiveled around, his face contorted. Livid it is. "This is the seventh time, Seifer. SEVENTH!" he yelled, throwing his glasses against the floor, his hands shaking. Almost immediately, he seemed to regret smashing his spectacles, but he didn't spare them a second glance, focusing instead on Seifer.
The tall blond wasn't the least bit abashed. He wasn't a complete ingrate; he knew that what Jonah was trying to do for him cost a lot of money and took up a big chunk of his time, but Seifer had to draw the line when it came to therapy. He had tried to tell Jonah, repeatedly, before resorting to such measures, but the old man was adamant.
The judge who had been appointed to oversee the upcoming trials had agreed to end Seifer's self-imposed exile and release him into Jonah's custody until the day of the tribunal. His weapon and magic privileges were still revoked, and the only way to earn them back was not only to survive the court-martial, but also to complete seventy hours of therapy under a certified psychologist.
Seifer knew Jonah couldn't go against the judge's wishes, but at the very least, he could've gotten him a horrible, bored professional who simply wanted the check and was willing to ask only a handful of non-intrusive questions. Instead, Jonah had taken the whole deal seriously and had tracked down men and women who, in his words, were the best.
He had to admit, he had been a little disappointed that no-one had yet to try giving him that unpronounceable test, the one with the the black smudges where he was supposed to say what he could see. And I came up with such good answers, too... Maybe the next one would do it.
"I think I can make it to ten before the month's out," he said, bobbing on the balls of his feet excitedly. "Wanna go for it?"
"First you terrorized the people in group therapy-" Jonah said testily, holding out his index finger.
Seifer smiled fondly at the memory of that event. "Like shooting fish in a barrel," he said. When Dr. Rune had asked him to talk about himself in group therapy, Seifer had decided to take as many down with him as he could before security escorted him outside.
First, he'd asked Dr. Rune to open the windows to let some air in, because it felt stuffy, like the walls were closing in on them. He'd said that staring straight into the claustrophobic's eyes.
Then he started talking about his imaginary childhood in a dumpy little place near Dingo desert, mentioning the great food and how he felt he'd been getting a little chubby. When he'd tried to be friendly and tell the anorexic girl he was happy he wasn't the only pudgy one in the group, she had looked horrified for some obscure reason.
The paranoid one had been a lucky guess, if he was being honest with himself. After noticing the 'I believe' slogan on the man's shirt, a slogan made popular through a new conspiracy-theory TV show, he'd decided to take a shot. The White SeeDs were not even remotely as known to the public as other SeeD branches were, so it had been easy to convince the man they were watching, always watching.
And just when he was getting warmed up, he got kicked out of group therapy.
"Then I sign you up for private sessions and you start with the name-calling and the racial slurs-" Jonah went on, listing all failed sessions with his fingers.
"She called me 'cracker' first."
"Then you pretended to hear voices. Twice."
Seifer shrugged. "What can I say? It's a classic."
"Then you said you thought you were a vegetarian vampire who liked to sparkle in the sun-"
"You gotta admit," Seifer said, chuckling. "That was a good one-"
"I don't even want to know what you told this poor man."
"I said-"
Jonah held up a hand, stopping him.
"So who's next?" Seifer asked, rubbing his hands together.
The Headmaster put his hands against his hips, breathing through his nostrils. He was giving Seifer a hard, calculating look, perhaps deliberating about what to do or say next. "Me," he said.
Seifer blinked once, certain he hadn't hear correctly. "What?"
"It doesn't look like you're going to take this seriously, so I'm taking it upon me to fix that mess you call a conscience."
November 2nd 4997 M.G.
Centra
"Seriously, Matron," Selphie said from her perch on Edea's kitchen counter. "If those two are harassing you, just say the word and they're history."
Edea shook her head, laughing at Selphie's conspiratorial tone and kept on wiping the dishes dry. "I told you, it won't be necessary," she said, for what was probably the thousandth time that day. "I invited them here."
Selphie scrunched up her nose, sharing a look of distaste with Squall who sat in one of the chairs in the kitchen, watching the exchange. When Cid had asked them to accompany him to the Centra orphanage so he could see his wife, Selphie had been expecting a private familial affair. Finding Fujin and Raijin there had been a surprise, to say the least.
"I still don't get why," Selphie said, crossing her arms. From the other room, she could hear a casual conversation taking place, punctuated every now and then by Fujin's booming, single-word replies. Cid, Zell, Irvine and Quistis had taken to Fujin and Raijin's presence more calmly than Squall and Selphie had.
She knew they were sorry for the events of the war, as well as the fact that they were the only ones who seemed to have any sense whatsoever at the time and had tried to talk Seifer out of his path of destruction. She could even sympathize with them, but she had never thought she'd lay eyes on them again before the tribunal. They'd all barely had any time to digest the end of the war, and things were already moving fast. It was a little too early to start to forgive and forget.
"I taught you better than this," Edea said, frowning at Selphie. "They have nowhere to go, and I would've thought you, the most compassionate of the children I raised, would've been a little more understanding."
Selphie kicked the air in front of hair, pouting. "I'm fine with Fujin and Raijin. They're okay. But they know where Seifer is, and they won't-"
"We're done discussing this," Edea said, wiping her hands on her floral apron. "I trust Fujin and Raijin. Even if I didn't, the guards stationed outside my home day in and day out would make sure nothing ill happened to me or them. When this is all over, I want them to stay here with me, as my personal guards. Get used to this."
Selphie looked outside the window at the guards Edea had mentioned. Once a trial date had been set, all those charged with the wrongdoings committed during the war had been placed under house arrest and were being watched round the clock by Centra soldiers. Edea had asked Fujin and Raijin to come work for her long before that had happened. From what she had told Selphie, she thought it would make things easier for all three of them, not to mention that Fujin and Raijin couldn't afford a lawyer who could handle their case.
"You are assuming they'll be found innocent on all charges," Squall muttered, running his finger over the small vase of flowers resting on the table.
"Yes, I am," Edea said, and leaned her back against the the sink, looking at him. "You should both stop fretting over this. If there's anything or anyone you should be worried about, it's Rinoa."
Selphie stared at her shoes as she swung her legs back and forth. Less than a month ago, Rinoa had left for Esthar. Sir Laguna and Dr. Odine had agreed to monitor her until the day of the trial. It wasn't a perfect situation, and there had been lots of tears and tight embraces right before she left, but at the very least, she was surrounded by familiar faces who would treat her well. Sir Laguna had promised Squall he wouldn't let Dr. Odine anywhere near Rinoa unless he was present as well.
Squall averted his gaze and turned to look at the flowers in the vase, grimacing. "Rinoa is... she's fine. Ellone is looking after her," he said.
"I know she is, but that's not what I'm talking about," Edea said, sighing. "I know first-hand what it's like to be with someone who knows they may have to kill you in the future. It's an impossible situation on its own, made all the more difficult by the scrutiny the couple faces when people find out.
After the trial, you and Rinoa need to be very careful. Don't flaunt your relationship to anyone you don't trust, not even your SeeDs. The fact that you're friends will be suspicious enough for some, but if it becomes widely known that you're together, it could ruin you."
There are rumors already, Selphie thought, remembering the day they'd been asked to appear before the International Assembly.
"Are you suggesting I break up with Rinoa?" Squall asked, his voice dropping an octave.
"No," Edea said. "I'm suggesting that you two keep things on a platonic level when you're with anyone other than your friends. You need to convince people that the safest place for Rinoa to be is among SeeDs and that you're prepared to do your duty if push comes to shove. You need to appear detached from the situation so everyone will rest assured she won't get out of control should anything happen. Understand?"
It was hard to watch Squall go through this. Selphie tried not to look and make him even more uncomfortable, but she couldn't help it. Assuming Rinoa made it out of the tribunal a free woman, she and Squall would go on to face much worse. There weren't a lot of people out there who would look upon a Sorceress favorably, and that number was even smaller among SeeDs.
How would they react to Rinoa living among them now that her condition was known all over the world?
Squall had fallen silent, but Selphie knew he was thinking along the same lines she was. She didn't envy what he had to look forward to, and she was determined to help them both out any way she could.
The young Commander touched the petal of a daisy with his gloved finger and sighed. "Yeah."
November 12th 4997 M.G.
Galbadia Garden
Seifer swung the gunblade a few times, trying to get used to its weight and the feel of the handle against his gloved hand. It wasn't Hyperion, but it was well-crafted and the design was close enough. It would fit his fighting style, giving him and Jonah some time to work on his training until he was able to reclaim his own weapon.
Until, he mentally scoffed. The old man has me thinking I'm walking out of this, he thought wryly. Ever since he had accepted Meric's deal, Seifer had been repeating a self-preservation mantra in his head. He shouldn't get too used to this sort of freedom; in a few weeks, it could all be be taken away from him as fast as it had come.
Still, it was hard to work with Jonah's team and not feel at least a little confident about the outcome of the trial. Seifer never probed, never asked how Jonah knew the kind of people he did and why the hell he was investing so much money and time on someone who could very well be behind bars soon, or even worse, get pardoned and then walk away. Every time Seifer mentioned that very fact, Jonah merely grinned and said: "We'll see."
Despite his better judgment, Seifer watched his optimism grow every day as a high-profile lawyer prepared him for the trial, and Jonah himself spent every waking hour he could spare on therapy or training sessions with him. Seifer had a hard time feeling anything other than grateful to the man, though he couldn't completely shake off the fear that he would one day pay a heavy price if he ultimately trusted him.
To top all that confusion off, it felt very eerie, living in Galbadia Garden again. Not only because of the memories, but because Seifer remembered it as a place brimming with cadets. Right now, the academy was less than half-full, and most of the residents were members of the staff. Students had been transferred to other Gardens and some of those who had already graduated had left the SeeD life to join armies all over the world. He was the only person in those walls actually doing any learning, and the two men had the whole training center to themselves.
It wasn't very different from Balamb Garden's training center. Bigger, perhaps a little richer when it came to the variety of beasts one could find there, but it was styled similarly. Instead of the tropical forest B-Garden's training center resembled, this one had been modeled after a Galbadian forest.
Seifer watched the trees and wildlife around him, a sense of anticipation enveloping him. So far, he had only worked in the gym, giving his muscles a well-needed reminder of the constant strain they had once been under. The first few days had been hell, but soon, he was back into his old routines and happier for it. He had always appreciated the invigorating feeling exercise left him with, something he had sorely missed all those months.
Today, however, promised to be an even more interesting day. They were training with weapons for the first time. He had no idea what kind of weapon Jonah carried, and had just been wondering about that, when the older man walked through the doors of the training center, sword in hand.
It occurred to Seifer that this was the very first time he was seeing Jonah without a SeeD uniform. The headmaster looked radically different when clad in a simple pair of sweatpants and t-shirt. For one thing, it made him look younger; the outfit shaved nearly a decade off of him easily, and it made Seifer very aware of the fact that for his age, Jonah was very fit and compact. Clearly, he exercised daily.
Seifer eyed the Esthari sword in his hands. "You're a swordsman, then?" he asked.
Jonah nodded, and came to a stop right across him.
"A katana," Seifer pointed out, taking a few steps closer to admire the elaborate scabbard that hung from his belt. "Can I?"
"May I," Jonah corrected him, and unsheathed the sword, handing it to Seifer.
The blond plunged his gunblade on the ground to secure it and held up the katana, watching as the smooth, silver blade it reflected the sunlight. He ran a finger over the edge very carefully. When he pulled his thumb back, a fat droplet of blood was shining on the tip; the weapon was razor-sharp. Katana hilts were always covered with woven cotton in a distinct rhombic pattern; Jonah's was dark blue. The sword's blade also bore a set of Esthari ideograms, which Seifer knew were supposed to be the owner's signature.
Stepping back, he twisted his wrist to test the weight and then performed a few attacks. It definitely wasn't his style, but he could appreciate how perfectly balanced the sword was. Whoever made it had poured his heart and soul into creating an incredible weapon; it was a work of art. "Nice," he said, nodding. "But is it really fair to pair a sword against a gunblade?" he said, and handed the katana back to Jonah.
"You won't be using the gun part while we train," Jonah said. "Just simple swordfighting. From what little I've seen you train you have the aim and timing down well enough when it comes to firing a shot-"
"Well enough?" Seifer repeated, stung by the comment. Well enough? I could hit a bulls-eye with one hand while drinking with the other and all the while be dancing on the spot, you fucking relic.
"But your swordsmanship is a little rusty," Jonah went on. "We'll work on that first and worry about the gun part of your gunblade later."
Rusty... I'll have you limping out of here in no time, Seifer seethed. "Let's go then," he said, pulling the gunblade off the ground.
"Stand in position," Jonah said, putting both hands on the hilt of his katana. He lifted his back elbow into a forty five degree angle and held his front hand nearly vertical to his body. His weight was on his back leg, which was slightly bent, while the front was slightly stretched.
"Seriously?" Seifer drawled. "You're gonna go all theatrical on me? Stand on one leg and hold up your index and middle fingers together or something?" he said, recalling nights in Balamb Garden when he and Raijin would watch hilariously bad dubs of old Esthari movies made before the grand continent sealed itself off. The fighters cast in such films were almost always showy; it didn't help that they also tended to give a long-winded speech before every battle, half of which was spent with the original actor's mouth flapping around in silence as the voice-actor had run out of things to say.
"Prepare," Jonah said, not moving a single inch.
Seifer shook his head. "All right..." he said and held up his right hand straight, gunblade pointed at Jonah.
The older man blinked. "What the hell is this?"
"What's what?"
"This... stance."
"It's... my stance. What else should it be?"
"And this works for you?" Jonah asked in disbelief. "Really?"
"Yes, really," Seifer insisted, getting angrier by the moment. "Come the fuck on."
"I know President Loire made a very popular b-movie once fighting in that very stance, but it's not really-"
"GET ON WITH IT!" Seifer yelled, feeling his cheeks burn all of a sudden.
Jonah sighed and resumed his position. "Ready? Go!"
Though he usually waited for his opponent to charge –and Squall was actually dumb enough to do so every single time- for once, Seifer charged first. He knew he shouldn't let what Jonah said to him affect the fight, but he had never been one to bury his anger in battle. If anything, it gave him an edge. No wonder Gibbs, one of his Instructors, had always marveled at how easy it was for him to pile up enough adrenaline to perform a SeeD's original, most powerful attack, colloquially known as a Limit Break.
He brought the gunblade up in a broad sweep on Jonah's right, giving him no room to duck. The Headmaster released one hand from the hilt and brought his katana to meet Seifer's blade. The two swords collided, and Jonah supported his slimmer, more fragile weapon with the other hand pressed against the flat side of the blade. Despite the older man's strength, Seifer was younger, and the momentum of his movement was enough to push Jonah backwards.
Without losing his cool, Jonah pulled the katana back, giving it a full three-sixty turn and bringing it up again right under Seifer's neck. The blond took a step back, barely dodging in time so as not to earn a scrape on his chin.
But before Seifer could stand back up straight, he saw Jonah flick his wrist once, and next thing he knew, he received a sharp jab between the eyes with the hilt of the katana. Quick as a cat, Jonah twisted on the spot and delivered the final blow by sweeping the ground with his leg and tripping him.
Without even fully realizing what had happened, Seifer found himself back-first on the ground, the tip of Jonah's katana sitting less than an inch away from his nose.
What the fuck just happened?
Jonah pulled the katana to his side and leaned over Seifer's fallen form, grinning wryly. "What, you thought I was going to go easy on you?"
Seifer gave Jonah an incredulous look. Had he just been beaten by someone more than twice his age? "But you… I didn't…" he spluttered, unable to believe the person standing above him had just handed his ass to him on a plate in less than two minutes.
"Oh, I've never seen him fight, plus he's twice my age or more, so he must suck at it. Is that what you thought?" Jonah said, running his finger over the smooth blade of the katana.
…...Pretty much.
"You're lucky you're not fighting me in my prime," Jonah said, looking very pleased with himself. "Otherwise I would be talking to thin air right now."
"And you call me cocky," Seifer spat out, and scrambled up on his feet. This was a fluke. It had to be. He was a little out of practice, and katanas were swords suited for quick swordfighting. A gunblade was at a disadvantage, being a much heavier weapon, but he had trained against lighter swords before, knew how to work with the slower speed and exploit a swift sword's weaknesses. Once he cleared his head a bit, it would all come back to him.
It had to.
"That was merely a warm-up, old man. You haven't seen nothing yet."
"Well then, I take it back," Jonah said, getting into position again. "Show me."
Let him come to you, Seifer thought, raising his gunblade once more. Let him come to you and stay calm.
The second time around, he did better. It took Jonah five minutes to bring him down.
He had been doing well, up to the point where Jonah whipped out his scabbard, smacked Seifer on the side of his face, kneed him in the gut and gave him a headbutt that sent him down on the ground. As he lay there, covered in dirt, humiliated and in pain, he contemplated all the ways he could murder the man, slowly and painfully. The bastard actually pulled out his scabbard to knock me out, Seifer thought ruefully, rolling over to the side to spit a mouthful of blood on the ground.
"Pathetic," Jonah said, re-sheathing his sword.
Number two hundred and seventy four: give him a swirly till he drowns.
"You know, the first I ever heard of you was before the Second Sorceress War," Jonah said, pacing back and forth, his hands folded behind his waist. "You were praised as one of the two gunblade specialists of Balamb Garden. Massively talented, unprecedented. It was said that you and Squall Leonhart were equally skilled, and even though he made it to SeeD and you didn't, a match between the two of you would still end in a tie. I can now fully appreciate how little truth there is to be found in that rumor."
Number two hundred and ninety nine: cut his balls off and make him choke on them.
"You could never hope to reach the amount of skill Leonhart has in his pinky."
"I've beaten him before," Seifer growled from his spot on the ground, glaring at the branches of the tree above. Leafy little sons of bitches. "And I can do it again."
"Oh, I recognize this," Jonah said, grinning. "The five stages of grief: Stage one, denial."
"Spare me the psychological bullcrap, you fucker."
"Stage two, anger. Should I be expecting bargaining any time soon?"
Seifer looked up at the Headmaster, feeling every bit of gratitude he had ever had for the man quickly fade away.
Jonah smiled at him, an infuriating smile that made Seifer wish he had junctioned spells this morning. "Do you want to know why you were beaten during the war?"
"There were three of them against me," Seifer said, sitting up. "It doesn't take a fucking genius to do the math."
"Well… I can't deny that much is true," Jonah conceded. "I'll give you that. However… you did fight Leonhart solo just once, did you not?" he asked, looking at Seifer out of the corner of his eye.
Seifer became very interested in dusting his clothes off at that moment.
"Seifer? Do you want to know why you lost?"
"No, but I'm sure you'll enlighten me," Seifer said, starting to get up on his feet.
"You lost because you are an arrogant simpleton with delusions of grandeur."
The tall blond chuckled. "Y'know what I've always hated about you prudes? You can't even insult someone properly. You have to hide behind big, fancy words to do it," he said, waving his arms around ostentatiously. "You still get the same satisfaction with simpler words, y'know. Watch me: Jerk, pussy, asshole, dickhead, cocksucker. Here's what's even better: Yo momma so smelly, even the Marlboro said daaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn."
Jonah rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Yo momma so fat, they had to tame a Behemoth for her to ride to work."
"Really, now…"
"Yo momma so stupid, she thought Gysahl Greens would make a good salad."
"Trying to insult me is not going to make me change the subject."
"Yo momma so ugly, she once petrified a Cockatrice on sight."
"Seifer…"
"Yo momma so stupid, she studied for a drug tes-"
Having had enough, Jonah pulled his katana out of the scabbard and threw it toward Seifer. The blade whistled past his face before he had time to move a single muscle and landed, tip-first, on the tree behind him. Seifer froze in place, realizing that the weapon had missed him by less than an inch.
"Next time, I won't miss," Jonah said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"Next time, you-"
"Enough!" Jonah thundered. "Is it really that easy to provoke you? One or two spiteful little jabs and you're ready to draw blood? I thought you were smarter than that. Unless of course it's the comparison to your old enemy that gets you so riled up."
Seifer looked away, staring hard at the ground. I'm done with this shit, he thought. I'd rather rot in jail than listen to that psycho drone on and on about Commander Puberty.
"Squall Leonhart—"
"ENOUGH about fucking Leonhart! You're talking to ME!" Seifer yelled, jabbing a finger at his chest.
"I'm talking about you. The fact that he's far superior—"
"The HELL he is!"
"The sooner you shut up and accept that little fact, the sooner we can begin your training," Jonah pressed on. "I asked you earlier on, and I'll ask you again: Do you want to know why he beat you?"
"I thought it was because I was a 'delusional ass' or somesuch," Seifer said, removing his training gloves. He wasn't going to sit and listen to this much longer. In less than an hour, he was planning on getting on the first train out of there, judge's orders be damned. If he was going to go down, he would do it fighting, not sitting behind the stand, spluttering out excuses and apologies like a good little boy.
"Precisely. And while you were basking in the glory of being chosen by Sorceress Edea as her Knight, do you know what he did?"
"Jerked off to pictures of Rinoa?" Seifer drawled, throwing his jacket on.
Jonah, undeterred by the fact that Seifer was about to leave the training center, went on. "He trained. When you left Garden, it was true you and him were at the same level. Back then, you could have beaten him, perhaps. But all you did was attend parades and follow your little Sorceress around like an ornament."
With his back turned to the Headmaster, Seifer stood still, frowning. A small, tiny part of him knew this was true. He had gotten too sure of himself, too proud to keep on training, but Squall hadn't.
"You thought you were strong enough if you were chosen by her, so there was no need to try any longer," Jonah said. "Leonhart didn't. He trained, and got better. And then he beat you. And beat you again, and again, and again, and got even better. If you were to fight him today, right now, you would die within the blink of an eye.
You're not even twenty, I'm fifty four and I can bring you down in a matter of seconds. You may be the only other gunblade specialist in existence right now, but the gap between you and the best is gargantuan."
"Well, if he got so good and I got so lazy," Seifer spat back, only now turning to acknowledge Jonah. "Why did I even stand a chance back we fought one-on-one? I stood my ground against fucking Leonhart; I nearly even got him a couple of times. You're not—"
"That's because you have ten times the stamina he does!"
A praise, even one uttered with as much spite and anger, was not what Seifer had expected. It didn't take a master psychologist to see that Jonah had been leading to something with all the verbal assault, but Seifer never thought any compliments would have been included. He stared at Jonah over his shoulder, frowning in confusion.
The Headmaster's face softened all of a sudden. He was a hard man, not one to sugar coat situations, but Seifer guessed his expression must've looked so lost he decided to go a little easier on him.
"He's lighter and faster then you," Jonah explained. "But what you lack in speed, you make up in brute force and stamina. You're reckless and impulsive; he's careful and precise. The fact that you're unpredictable and imaginative, however, can work to your advantage as long as you learn when to take risks and when to fall back. All you lack is the training, the discipline and a good shove up your arse to wake up. You're Squall Leonhart's equal. Start acting the part or get your pathetic, crippled self out of my sight."
Seifer's eyes fell on the door of the training center. It would be easier, so much easier to simply walk away. Staying meant that he would have to face everything, issues he knew were rooted deep within his psyche. Staying meant that he would have to trust this stranger, body and mind, and bear his soul out for him to dissect and piece back together again.
There was no guarantee, none whatsoever that this man had his best interests at heart. Everybody in his life was after a pound of flesh. SeeD, Ultimecia, the jury holding his future freedom in their hands. Who was to say he wouldn't sorely regret the decision to follow Jonah?
"You have nothing. I'm offering something. Do the smart thing and accept."
Turning around, Seifer tossed his jacket back on the ground and reached for his fallen gunblade.
I must be going out of my mind.
Right across him, Jonah smiled.
November 29th 4999 M.G.
Esthar City, Esthar
"I don't want to hear it!" Quistis said, as Selphie opened her mouth to let out what was most likely a torrent of 'What the hell where you thinking's and other such complaints.
Quistis had just returned from her walk with the Archbishop, and last they'd seen each other, Selphie had had no qualms about showing how much she disapproved.
The blonde climbed into the van next to her, where a few more SeeDs who had participated in the mission were already seated, waiting to return to Garden.
The younger girl crossed her arms in front of her chest, scowling. "Did you have fun?" she drawled.
"Tons," Quistis quipped back and relaxed into her seat, eager to get back to her dorm. The experience of talking to the Archbishop had been an intense and exciting affair indeed, but the novelty of it had temporarily worn off when she finally felt the weight of everything that had happened crash on her shoulders.
She could go back to daydreaming once she'd had a shower and a good meal.
The back doors of the van slipped shut and the engine roared into life as Quistis sank into her seat, exhausted.
Next to her, the younger SeeDs who had been deployed in the perimeter of the square were speaking animatedly, discussing the mission. Most of them appeared to be shaken up but excited all the same. Quistis guessed that for many, it had been their first real assignment.
She smiled at the fire in their eyes and their fervent chatter. They reminded her a little of herself back when she'd first made it to SeeD and was sent on her first missions. She didn't envy what they would go through once they had to face their first difficult decisions, but they would all look back to this moment with fondness a few years later.
Her reminiscence was interrupted when the van came to a sharp halt. Every SeeD in the back of the van swerved in their seat, nearly slipping down to the floor.
"What the hell-?" Selphie said, and stood up to go talk to the driver.
"What's going on?" Quistis asked. "Why have we stopped?"
Selphie held up a hand to wordlessly ask Quistis to wait. While she spoke to the driver in hushed tones, Quistis noticed the SeeD in the passenger's seat had stepped outside. When she returned, Selphie told the younger SeeDs to stay in their seats and calm down, then motioned Quistis outside.
The blonde followed Selphie and together they pushed the back doors of the van open.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"The driver says there's someone blocking the road," Selphie replied. "You'd think one SeeD would be able to handle this, but apparently, he can't get him to move."
"Why all the secrecy for a civilian?" Quistis asked, closing the doors of the van once they were both outside.
"The idiot used magic," Selphie said, cringing.
"The civilian or the SeeD?"
"The SeeD."
"Oh, great," Quistis said, groaning. As if the day hadn't held enough excitement, now they would have to find a way to placate a very angry citizen or face charges for assault.
The two women made their way around the van and over to the front, where the SeeD and the civilian in question were standing in the middle of the road, causing quite the traffic jam. People waiting behind the SeeD van were already honking their horns in irritation for the hold-up.
Quistis recognized the SeeD as Elan Bolt. He was relatively new, but she wasn't in the mood to forgive such amateur mistakes right now. One of the firs things a cadet was taught was to never resort to magic unless necessary, especially when facing civilians.
The civilian was an old man dressed in rags. Judging by the dirt on his hair and skin and the skeletal look of his body, Quistis guessed he was a homeless man. He didn't appear to be phased at all by the well-dressed, angry SeeD before him. Quistis had to question whether the man understood Balamese at all, but even so, he was regarding the SeeD with a curious expression, rather than a frightened one.
"What's going on here?" Selphie asked, looking from the SeeD to the old man and back again.
"He refuses to move!" Bolt exclaimed, turning to Selphie. "I tried to do this calmly, but he wouldn't listen and I didn't want to resort to violence-"
"And using magic doesn't count as violence in your world?" Selphie drawled, shaking her head in disbelief.
"It was an accident," Bolt replied sheepishly. "I was trying to get him to move and-"
Selphie waved the SeeD off and turned to the man. "Sir? Are you all right?" she asked. "Were you hurt?"
The old man shifted his gaze over to her but said nothing. He simply looked at her with the same curious expression he had given the SeeD.
"See?" Bolt said. "He won't say a thing, I couldn't tell-"
"Shut up," Selphie said, sighing. "Sir, do you understand me?" she asked the civilian. She received no response. "Quisty, you know a little Esthari, don't you?"
Quistis nodded, stepping up between Bolt and Selphie. "Let me try," she said, and gave the old man a kind smile. "Daijoubu desu ka?" she asked, trying to make sure he was all right.
At first, she thought the man had finally understood and this had all been nothing but a language barrier issue. But the look he gave Quistis was not one of relief or recognition of her words, but rather a livid one.
"You!" he hissed, narrowing his eyes at her and pointing at her with his index finger. "It is you!"
Quistis blinked. "Uhhh..."
"You stopped it," the old man went on, advancing on her. Though he was clearly Esthari, there were no traces of an accent in his voice when he spoke Balamese. "You rescued the Eagle."
"Excuse me?" Quistis asked, completely dumbfounded.
"WHY DID YOU STOP IT?" he shrieked, and made a move to launch himself at her, clearly intending to do violence.
Perhaps he had forgotten who he was surrounded by, or perhaps he was too far gone to care, but before he could make another step, Selphie put a firm hand on his shoulder, holding him back, and took out her nunchakus with the other.
"Calm yourself, sir," she said in a commanding, sharp voice. "Or I'll make you calm down."
The old man didn't try to move again, but he didn't tear his gaze off Quistis either. The look he was giving her was one of pure loathing. "Ruined... Everything ruined," he said, gritting his teeth. "All this effort, all this planning... it was all for nothing. Now the Eagle flies free again."
"Hold on a sec," Selphie said, scrutinizing him. "I know you, I've seen you before. You're that lunatic who was spouting nonsense about the end of the world during the protests the other day."
For the first time since he'd laid eyes upon her, the man looked at Selphie as if he not only understood her, but pitied her. "Your friend... She will be the end of us all. Destroy her while you still can," he said, reaching out to grab the front of Selphie's uniform, begging her to take him seriously.
"Get off me," she said, cringing. "Go on, shoo. Stick around a moment longer and I'll hand you over to the police, got it?"
Shaking his head in disbelief, the man let go of her and began to walk away, muttering to himself.
"Hyne, this place is filled with crazies," Selphie said, watching him depart.
Quistis had witnessed the whole exchange silently, wondering what on earth had just happened. The logical part of her said that this had been nothing but the ramblings of a poor, insane man. But her gut, her instinct, knew that there was something very wrong about this whole situation. Like there was something right under her nose that she was missing, but she couldn't-
The Eagle, she suddenly thought, blanching. Code name for the Archbishop. When Selphie called me for directions, this man had been yelling about the Eagle's downfall. He knows. He knows something about the attack.
"Don't let him go!" Quistis blurted out, whipping out her weapon. "Selphie, he knows about the attack! The Eagle!"
Selphie's eyes widened in realization of what Quistis was saying. At once, she swiveled around and broke into a run after the old man. Quistis followed her, her heart racing.
He can't have gone far, Quistis thought, running with all her might. But wait, he really can't have gone that far, she thought, staring at the empty road lying ahead of them. There were no other passers-by in the vicinity, so he couldn't have blended into the crowd.
Selphie seemed to be thinking along the same lines as well. She had come to a stop, looking left and right as she panted. "What the hell...?" she said. "Where did he go? He was there just a moment ago!"
Trying to steady her breath, Quistis looked around her wildly, desperate for any clue as to where he could have disappeared to, but she couldn't find any. There was nothing but the highway in front of them and there was nowhere he could have hidden.
He had simply vanished.
A/N: Seifer's medical issue in the first scene is partly inspired by staceums's amazing fic Sound of a Trembling Heart (go read it and its sequel, like, NOW). The underlying condition in my story has nothing to do with the one she used in hers. I was planning on giving Seifer headaches instead, but after reading her story, I felt the nosebleeds were far more potent and dramatic. Major props to her for the inspiration!
The International Alliance is supposed to be the FF8 equivalent of the UN in my story.
I think many of you will be able to guess which movie inspired Seifer's dispute with the psychologist, but here's the answer anyway: Good Will Hunting. Concerning Seifer terrorizing the people in group therapy: While doing research for this part of the story, I re-watched the first episode of the sixth season of House MD, a show I love. It struck me, when I watched it again, how the way House bullied the other patients was something I could totally see Seifer doing.
The Blanche Convention mentioned by Cid refers to a convention that took place in Blanche, a city I made up for the continent of Trabia.
Jonah's line about starting at the beginning and Seifer's response are a reference to Lost, from the episode where Locke and Eco watch the orientation clip together and Eco tells Locke a story.
Finally (are you sick of all this crap yet? :S ), the slogan 'I believe' is a small paraphrase of 'I want to believe,' a reference to X-Files.
Next chapter won't have nearly as many notes, I swear xD;;;