IMPORTANT AUTHOR TYPE ANNOUNCEMENT THING: Bandages, while the last chapters are being written (yes, folks, it's almost done), is being rewritten. Which means, go back and have a looksee at the new first chapter and tell me what you think. Nothing major is being changed - the plot still remains as it ever was - but certain points in characterization have been altered, and there's just been a general shift up in writing quality since I started two years ago. This won't delay the production of new chapters, I can do that just fine on my own, so just think of it as a nifty bonus. Revised chapters will be marked as such with BIG BOLD LETTERS. I DO LOVE ME SOME OF THESE.

Now returning to your normal font. I do apologize for the delay of this chapter. I had no excuse, other than perhaps school and my writing deciding to be stubborn. The pace should pick up after this, since the next chapters are Look, Ma! Epic! Also, there's a sequel in the works. Ya, you heard me. Be afraid, be very afraid.

Konitsu

•••

Irvine didn't understand why he felt so petulant about giving Siren up to Cloud. It wasn't as if Irvine even liked his Guardian Forces, and he kept them unjunctioned more often than not; he found connections like Squall and Shiva's deeply unnerving. Still, Siren had hollowed out a watery little nest in his mind, a familiar place for her to come back to. Cloud didn't have that comfortable place for her.

Shaking his head, Irvine locked eyes with Cloud and pressed a palm against his forehead. After a few grumpy, argumentative trills, Siren roused herself to rush out of Irvine's mind and into Cloud. Irvine remembered having her in his head for the first time, a cooling, seductive wave. Siren was considered a weaker GF, but Irvine kept her because she was subtle, insidious - a gentle, merciless killer. He hoped Cloud would appreciate her, as even Irvine – with his nearly soul-deep distaste for these forces – did.

"Don't keep her junctioned too long," Irvine said. "They have an unfortunate habit of gnawing on memories. It makes room for them in there." He tapped Cloud's temple.

Cloud flinched away from the touch, just slightly. "She'll already have more than enough room, then."

Irvine decided he didn't even want to ask. "You should be able to draw some Holy spells out of my stores. Just let Siren show you how."

It was always odd to have someone take spells directly from the mental stock; Cloud's internal presence was an unpleasant shock, harsher than Irvine had felt for a long time. He'd grown used to Selphie mucking about with his spell stock, Rinoa's gentle touch, even Zell's rash demand and yank method of obtaining more fire spells. None of his friends were like this, this twisted up, ghostly thing that was Cloud Strife's mind; it didn't ask, it didn't demand, it expected in a horrible, nearly painful way. Irvine hastily tried to shuffle the Holy spells to the forefront of his stores, Cloud's inexperience and sickly green presence making Irvine queasy.

Holy didn't want to go to Cloud, clinging to Irvine's mind with sticky white tendrils. He had to gather back the spells he didn't usually employ much – attack spells, gravira, firaga – from surging forward into Cloud, but Irvine's well-depended on support spells huddled in a nearly sentient manner, like frightened children. Irvine untangled a portion of Holy spells from double and aura, forcing their green-white glow along the mental link to Cloud and Siren.

Cloud's exit from his mind left him gagging. Trained users of Guardian Forces knew to smooth their exit from another's mind, especially when they were drawing powerful magic away with them. Cloud had no such knowledge and, it seemed, no such natural instincts.

"Are you okay?" At least he sounded worried.

"We probably should have had Zell do that," Irvine managed. "Magic knows what you are and gets used to you. I'm a support caster, and a sensitive spell like Holy didn't want to go to you. Holy more attuned to Zell probably would have been giddy about it."

Irvine decided not to mention how fractured and ill Cloud's mental presence had been. He didn't need that sort of weight on him, that sort of judgment. Irvine just hoped Siren came back to him without that taint clinging to her. He didn't know what he'd do if his own GF, resident of his mind, was that sticky, tempting, cloying, disgusting mess of green.

He nodded his goodbye at Cloud and went to find the nearest bathroom, overcome with the sudden violent need to vomit.

•••

Leonhart's office looked like a hurricane or a small civil war had ripped through it, with little regard for who might have to clean up afterward. Papers littered both desks – Seifer still couldn't believe Zell was playing office lady for Leonhart, but wasn't beyond laughing about it - and the floor in-between them, the partition between the two areas of the office long since pushed back and forgotten. The rumors that had circulated down through the ranks and into Fuu's waiting ears said that Leonhart was scrambling around with something related to Esthar and covering his ass.

Seifer personally thought that Squall was inventing busy work to keep his mind off of Rinoa's imminent departure (she'd come to say goodbye to Seifer personally, wishing him good luck in his life with that all encompassing optimism of hers) and the crisis 'his' Garden had been mixed up in. Seifer might have laughed, if he'd been a slightly less sensitive man.

Instead, he waited for Leonhart to stop scribbling out some memo or another and passed the time by Dincht-baiting.

"Hey, Secretary. Get me a cup of coffee."

Zell flipped him off. "Shove it up your ass, Almasy."

"I don't swing that way. Especially not for kinky boys."

Zell, Seifer noted, had advanced from yelping with indignant fury to scowling and almost growling. It was nearly more threatening. Nearly. Seifer just smirked at him.

"Almasy," Leonhart said, effectively yanking both Seifer and Zell's attention towards him. "Can you not be a monumental dick for a half a second?"

Stress was good for Squall, really loosened up his brain to mouth filter.

"But Dincht likes my monumental –"

Zell didn't let him finish that sentence. "I'm going to fucking kill you, I swear!"

In the year he'd been parted from Dincht's lovely and well-mannered company, Seifer had nearly forgotten that he could kill your eardrums. Really, it was a small blessing that Zell had finally hit puberty and his voice had settled, because if he was going to keep screaming and carrying on Seifer didn't want to hear his voice cracking every other word.

"Both of you stop it. Seifer, I didn't call you up here so you could harass Zell," Squall said.

Seifer canted his head to the side. "Really? Because I thought you could use the entertainment. It's the only thing he's good for, really."

"If you don't shut up I'm going to let him break your arm."

Since it wasn't a deadly threat, Seifer thought it prudent to believe it. Zell would probably take great joy in breaking Seifer's arm, because Zell wasn't half the high-and-mighty Mama's Boy he wanted everyone to think he was.

"What did you call me up here for?" Seifer asked, settling for ignoring Dincht.

"We still have Hyperion."

Seifer had expected that one as much as he had expected Squall to stand up and throw a brick at Seifer's head. The second action would have left him about as stunned. Why the hell had they kept his gunblade around? To taunt him? Not that they could really taunt him with it if he didn't know they had it in the first place. Squall had probably reached the point where pulling Seifer's strings was the only fun he could have anymore.

Sometimes, Seifer forgot that other people weren't him.

"You're a good fighter," Squall continued, undaunted by the look on Seifer's face. "And right now I honestly don't care that you're a loose cannon."

"You're giving me Hyperion back?" Seifer asked, almost daring to hope.

Squall rubbed at his scar. Seifer wondered if he was even conscious of that nervous tic.

"I think I may need a bit of back up soon," Leonhart admitted. "Trained, competent back up, and as much as I can get. I'm not going to throw anyone else into this, and you're the closest thing to on par with my team as we're going to get."

"Damn, Leonhart. When did your ego get so big?"

Squall stared at him levelly. "Do you want Hyperion back or not?"

Seifer straightened and squared his shoulders. "Of course I do. Even if I have to save your stupid asses from whatever you get yourselves into."

"Your ego's always been huge," Zell grumbled behind them.

"One step out of line…"

Squall didn't need to fill in that blank. Anyone of his 'team' would be more than happy to follow his orders, even if they were 'shoot the guy who won't shut up'. They were SeeDs, after all – their lives had been spent throwing justice out of the window. Seifer could hardly remember why he'd wanted to be one so very, very badly.

"I'll play nice," Seifer promised. "A regular trained puppy. But if The Wonder Secretary over there gets in my way, I can't guarantee he won't get shot. You should employ smarter people."

Squall stood up and shoved a piece of paper at Seifer.

"Hyperion's in weapon storage. Find Irvine or Quistis and give them this, they'll get you in and get your gunblade. Now go away."

Seifer saluted Squall sarcastically and blew Zell a kiss as he walked out the door. The sound of something – hopefully expensive – crashing into a wall was all the validation he needed for that one.

•••

Tifa allowed herself a moment of guilt for sneaking around thieving things, but damned if she was going to go into this without being prepared. If Vincent had seen fit to drop by and scatter cryptic remarks about upcoming battles and defending Cloud, Tifa believed him. Fighting in the sneakers Rinoa had loaned her would be sort of counter productive, so she'd finally found a pair of fairly sturdy boots in her size. Some SeeD would find herself bootless, but Tifa had lived long enough in the slums that she didn't altogether mind taking things from people who could replace them immediately.

Kill or be killed, and thank you Midgar, Nibelheim, Shinra, Sephiroth for that life lesson.

It bothered her that Cloud hadn't come to her himself, to tell her to prepare. In fact, she got the distinct impression he was avoiding her. Probably because he knew she disagreed with him fiercely. This was true, but Tifa was also well aware that Cloud could be as stubborn as a disgruntled chocobo, and getting him to shift his opinion once his mind was set on something was an exercise in futility. She'd back him up in this battle just to see him safe, not because she agreed with what he was doing.

It was much easier to deal with Cloud when you simply got used to the fact that he very rarely listened to reason.

Tifa nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand settled on her shoulder, but she kept her fists down when she realized it was Seifer. Who looked equal parts amused and understanding about her jumpiness.

"Hey."

She returned his slightly hesitant smile. "Hey. What are you up to?"

"Being a weary and downtrodden prisoner." He sighed melodramatically, slumped his shoulders. "But at least I'm an armed weary, downtrodden prisoner," he added, holding up a case for her inspection.

It was simple black leather, embossed with a design she didn't recognize. It looked like one of the cases Vincent sometimes stored his more expensive guns in, but it was long enough to hold a sword. Cloud had never bothered to look into storage options for his sword, beyond 'how many can I strap to my motorcycle at any given moment'.

"Armed?" She echoed. "What is it?"

He blinked at her, and then smacked a hand to his forehead. "Of course you wouldn't recognize it. Most people here do. It's a gunblade case."

"Like Squall's?" she asked.

Seifer snorted. "Nothing like Squall's."

He knelt, placing the case on the floor. The hinges squeaked as he eased it open, but he made up for that with his careful reverence. The gunblade inside bore only a slight resemblance to Squall's shining weapon. Seifer wrapped his hand around the hilt and stood, showing off the weapon's silver sleekness. Tifa was surprised when he turned the blade toward himself and offered her the hilt – it was obvious he took great personal pride in the weapon.

Resisting the silly urge to hold her breath, Tifa took the hilt. Seifer's fingers lingered warm against hers for a moment before she was left holding the weapon on her own.

"It's so light," she said. She was no weakling by a long shot, but she'd been bracing her muscles for a bit more of a burden.

"Lighter than the models Squall uses. He thinks if you hit anything long enough it'll die –" Not from what Tifa had seen of Squall's fighting, but she wasn't one to critique old grudges. "I like things to have a little style."

She found herself laughing softly. "Ya. You look like it, too."

Seifer grinned balefully at the slightly scuffed edges of his white trench coat. "You don't appreciate it?"

"I never said that." Tifa handed him back the weapon, holding it carefully. "I'd like to see you in battle sometime."

Seifer was strong, but not lanky like Cloud or compact like Zell. Tifa could imagine how he'd look fighting – she allowed herself the mental image of him sans trench, arms bare – the intricate play of muscles and sure, powerful grace. It would be all natural, as well, all hard work and years of training. All human.

Her pleasure at that thought left her disappointed in herself. She hadn't admitted to herself before quite how fiercely she longed for normal. That she was finding normal in a previously magically-possessed teenager who was being held as an involuntary guest by a group of other-worldly mercenaries was not an irony that escaped her.

"Looks like you'll get the chance. I'm playing back up."

Tifa smiled. "Side by side?" she asked.

Seifer looked curiously taken aback by this. "Side by side," he agreed, and stuck his hand out to shake.

She took it in a firm grip and sealed the promise.

•••

Rinoa folded her hands in her lap and avoided looking out the train window as everything that had been her life in the past year slipped quietly away behind her. She thought of Selphie's tears, of Quistis's gentle glare, of Irvine's solemnly sworn pinky promise that they'd write each other often, of Zell's disappointment, of…well, she just thought of Squall. She thought of the way he'd blink at her in the morning, sleepy eyed and half-awake, and smile sweetly at her before he remembered he was supposed to be tough. She thought of the way he'd live off toast and air if she let him. She thought of the way his hands felt on her hips, strong and sure, his breath hot against her chest.

It would take a lot to replace a man like that. She'd never try to.

She knew she was making what Squall would call a 'tactical retreat'. She'd learned it well, first fleeing from the restricting grip of family and society, and then dodging from hiding place to hiding place with the rebels. Sometimes running away was the best thing you could do, to pick up the pieces you were dropping before the whole thing shattered entirely. The SeeDs were made for fighting – it was all some of them had ever known. They could surely win this battle without the aid of a sorceress half-trained in her powers and reluctant to use them.

Timber was trying for independence from a limping Galbadia. There were things to arrange, politically, speeches to be made, rallies to be organized, money to be made. Rinoa knew how to handle politics and how to be charming. She could do real good in Timber, she knew.

And staying at Balamb Garden wouldn't have been healthy.

Squall whispering his love against the back of her neck, like a child who was afraid to be caught at a game he shouldn't have been playing.

Rinoa squeezed her hands into tight fists and allowed herself to sob.

•••

Cloud had no idea why he'd suddenly switched babysitters, but he'd never been good at reading people. What Irvine thought of him was incidental, in any case. All that mattered was he was outside for the first time since the disaster in Balamb Town, and the fresh air was bringing as good a high as a hyper.

It's the lifestream, Zack said, and sounded a little less tense himself. It always feels better in clean places.

The town was a lonely dot in the distance, Garden hovering slightly larger on the horizon. Quistis stood a little ways off, her skirt rippling in the gentle breeze and her fingers wrapped loosely around the handle of her whip. Zell was nose to nose with Cloud, leaving him to wonder if this closeness was really necessary for the magic transfer or if they just wanted to weed out anyone particularly nervous. Cloud just wanted Zell out of his personal space, quickly.

Quistis was supposed to be the only one in attendance, but Zell had been waiting for them at the exit, looking like he dearly needed some violence. The scowl had relaxed somewhat, but he was still wound tight. Cloud wondered what interoffice politics had gotten to him, and then decided he honestly didn't care.

Zell grabbed Cloud's wrist, and initiated the magic transfer before Cloud could throw him off and halfway across the picturesque field. Brasher than Irvine, Zell practically shoved the spells into Siren's waiting arms before yanking abruptly out of the mental contact. It was a businesslike approach that Cloud could appreciate, though he suspected Zell was a bit gentler with his teammates.

I swear this thing is staring at me.

"Play nice," Cloud whispered, as Zell backed off.

And I'm getting the impression it doesn't blink much.

"If you get into a slap fight with the summon in my head, none of use are going to be very happy."

I think I could win.

Cloud chuckled softly, and then pulled his focus back toward Zell, who was adjusting his gloves and pointedly not looking at Cloud.

"You felt Zell when he was giving you the spells," Quistis said, voice clear and strong. "You should be able to find that place again and use the magic."

The best way Cloud had ever been able to describe coaxing magic out of materia was asking it nicely. Some people forced it – he knew Cid did – but that drained energy so much faster. Materia was the memory of the Cetra, and it only seemed polite to seek permission to use it.

Cloud knew very well that if he sought permission from anything in his head, he would be given a very firm 'no' in return.

Siren did not want to give him the spell she'd drawn in. She'd even clicked some of them into place within herself, molding them together into her being – and, in turn, molding them with Cloud. It was a little disturbing to feel water and ice running through the core of him, lending him strength. The SeeDs probably got used to it, or maybe didn't feel it quite so strong, but Cloud didn't like it.

Instead of asking for a fire spell, he made it very clear to Siren that if she did not allow him the use of one, he'd sic Zack on her. He was a little too used to dealing with the things romping around his head.

Fire bloomed at his finger tips, sputtered a bit, and then flung itself out at the first target it found – Zell. Zell rolled under it, and water washed over the fire even as he dodged. Siren pushed another spell to Cloud's fingertips, eager for battle now that she knew she had no choice, and ice glinted in the air. Zell laughed and shattered it with a high kick, but there was a new caution in his stance.

"That's enough," Quistis interrupted. She turned toward Cloud, gaze measuring. "You picked that up fast enough."

Cloud shrugged, grasping desperately for nonchalance. "Magic likes me."

Magic made him, singing down through his veins. He could spell cast longer than most of the others, disregarding Vincent (and, of course, back then, Aeris), and didn't notice when he was close to burn out. This made him unfortunately prone to hurting himself, so he tried to leave the more powerful materia in the hands of others. Nanaki in particular had a way with it.

Cloud ran his fingers over the scan materia in his arm band and wondered if he would ever get to see Nanaki again. Cid, Vincent, and Tifa were good company, of course, and a solid grounding in the chaos, but he was beginning to miss the others. Barret was probably pissed beyond all natural reckoning at their disappearance, infuriated and anxious. Maybe Cloud would find something nice to bring back for Marlene – that usually calmed Barret down quickly.

Snorting, Cloud tried to imagine explaining to Squall that he wanted to go on a shopping trip so that he could buy something shiny for his adoptive niece, for the sole purpose of not being taken to task by her father for five hours.

He wouldn't understand. He's never met Barret.

"Yuffie would just steal what I bought anyway," Cloud murmured.

From Marlene? Nah. That girl bites.

She also kicked, and was taking a more than passing – and quite possibly more than healthy – interest in whatever firearms she could get her hands on. It was sort of cute. Which made Cloud think they all had a warped sense of what 'cute' entailed.

"I don't think we should have you casting Holy yet," Quistis continued. "It's a rare spell, and you may need all of it that Irvine gave you. Just keep Siren junctioned, and she'll take care of most of the work when the time comes."

"Those shiny rocks of yours do every damn other thing," Zell said. "I don't see why they can't cast Holy."

"Holy's not meant for us," Cloud told him, and ignored the confused look he got in return. He turned to Quistis. "What did Siren do, when Zell gave me all that magic? It feels strange."

Quistis tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "That's what junctioning is, really. A Guardian Force incorporates magic into your defense and attacks, which makes them doubly useful in battle."

Cloud frowned. "How many do you have?"

"Usually? Alexander, Carbuncle, and Pandemona."

"Quetzalcoatl, Leviathan, and Cerberus," Zell offered. "Sometimes Diablos, when Selphie is sick of dealing with him."

Cloud tried to imagine having all of magic strangeness in his head, and didn't like the sound of it. "All the time?"

"We keep 'em unjunctioned to stop them snacking on our memories, but they're always there, ya. They're just not…turned on."

"Without a human host or special containment, Guardian Forces may fade," Quistis explained. "If we removed them completely, we may lose them. They're too useful in battle to abandon just because of the side effects."

Memories were much more precious than these people seemed to think, but Cloud wasn't about to lecture them on the point. They'd learned of the consequences and come to their own decisions. Living in a world where strength was the difference between life and death, maybe keeping the Guardian Forces 'turned off' was the greatest compromise the SeeDs had been willing to make.

If there was anything Cloud understood, it was the need to be strong.

"So did we come out here to chat, or are we actually going to do something?" Zell smiled at Cloud. "I'll spar ya."

Cloud wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. "You're sure?" Careful or not, he'd never spar against Tifa. She was talented, but prone to holding back with him – he was the one who needed to hold back.

"Do I look unsure to you? And if you beat me, you can try to take Quisty."

It was a little odd that Quistis could manage the same barely-constrained smile that Zell had, and she coupled it with a tilt of her head that was all false innocence and vulnerability.

SeeDs were all crazy. Cloud drew his sword.