Fire and Ice

by altol

Seifer and Quistis. One man's redemption. One woman's awakening. Two souls journey into an uncertain future...with even more uncertain feelings. Finished.

36. Healing

Author's notes: I believe it's Plato that makes the comment about war, not Masa. I would also like to point out that I have butchered the legacy of Hyperion to suit my own needs, as well as countless other mythologies splattered throughout these chapters. Also, Seifer's little speech from his old man was inspired in part by the movie Se7en. If you haven't seen it, do. 'Out, damned stain', is from MacBeth, I believe. Also, what Chu and Seifer are yelling at each other in is an actual language- it's Latin. I could have translated the phrases, but I think that loses some of the potency. They're fairly common/popular phrases, and are easy to look up, if you're so inclined.

Thanks to all my readers and reviewers- you guys are wonderful. A hello goes out again to Jes and Liz- hope you enjoy your Serabin this chapter, Jes. There will two more chapters after this, the end chapter and the epilogue, and I promise some upcoming fluff for all the angst these two characters (and the rest of you) have had to trudge through. Due to a recent loss, the last chapter may not be up for some time, until I'm better able to write a happy ending. My apologies in advance. Recommended listening: I've found that several Inuyasha soundtrack songs work well in this chapter.

Disclaimer: The only thing I've made up myself in this story are a computer geek, an over-sized dog, a bunch of evil antagonists, a handsome Galbadian headmaster, two nosey old men, and an ornery Chocobo. Feel free to borrow them, just I've borrowed Square's ideas.

Disarm you with a smile
And cut you like you want me to
Cut that little child
Inside of me and such a part of you
Ooh, the years burn

Disarm you with a smile
And leave you like they left me here
To wither in denial
The bitterness of one who's left alone
Ooh, the years burn

I used to be a little boy
So old in my shoes
And what I choose is my voice
What's a boy supposed to do?
The killer in me is the killer in you
My love
I send this smile over to you

-Smashing Pumpkins, Disarm

"I don't like it." Muttered Zell, stapling yet another packet together. "Drosskow comes out of this whole thing smelling like a rose."

"We've got dirt on him, he's got destruction of property on us. Either way, we got each other by the balls," replied Irvine, squinting at yet another inventory print-out.

"Yeah, but admitting we destroyed his property would mean we could reveal Xyionn to the public," added Zell, swearing as a staple stuck in his finger.

"If we reveal Xyionn to the public, dummy, he's gonna have no problem draggin' us down with him. We got enough problems as it is with the Garden Council breathin' down our backs. We'll just have to shut him down in the future. He's an idiot if he doesn't think we'll have constant surveillance on him from now on."

"Oh, I dunno, he probably thinks that there won't be a Garden to be keeping him on surveillance," replied Zell gravely.

Arya looked up from her computer, adjusting her bug-glasses. "Still, we could blacklist him! I've got access records from the IGCS system that'll ruin him, no problem. We wouldn't need the Xyionn cult evidence, then." Arya looked positively giddy, like a child on her birthday.

"You'd sell out Drosskow?" Zell clapped a hand to his chest dramatically. "The future father of your unborn children?"

Arya gave him a dirty look. "Without Drosskow's ass on the fire, good luck tying in any conspiracy theories," she replied, before going back to her computer.

"Come on, Arya, let's hear what you've got," said Irvine, setting down his stack of printer feeds.

Arya stopped typing and removed her glasses. "Well, so far our case fits together pretty air-tight, right? We've got Odine linked to pretty much everyone in the Galbadian Government as well as a few contributors in Esthar. We've got Martine as the middle-man, between Odine's journal and the Spec Sheets wired to Galbadia through AmmuCorp….but we still don't have our crowning jewel for the centerpiece." Arya spread her hands expressively. "Why did the IGCS system fail? Why were the systems shut down with no notification or personnel back-up? Odine hints at it…but I've finally got proof of it."

"Which is?"

"Access codes." replied Arya, turning her small laptop so that both of the men in front of her could see it.

Millions of lines filled the screen.

Zell squinted. "And this is what, besides complete gibberish to the rest of us?"

"It's Access Coding between the IGCS system and the system mainframes. Ummm…" Arya furrowed her brow in an effort to explain. "It's like listening in on the conversations between two computers."

Zell rolled his eyes. "How terribly naughty of us."

Arya ignored her boyfriend and continued. "Anyway, the access reports show several systems accessing the mainframe until its failure. Each institution linked to the IGCS, like Balamb, had an access code, one that allowed them to operate through a portion of the system. One, however, this one-" she pointed at the screen. "This one only accessed the system once, and was given full reign of the systems immediately. It was wired through the Galbadian server, though completely independent of any Galbadian Garden line code-"

"Adel." Said Irvine.

Arya nodded. "It wouldn't have surprised me that Adel could access the system. However, it only accessed it once. To know that many lines of code, the creature would have to have been somehow clairvoyant, or-"

"Given the codes in the first place, and only Drosskow would have had the main access key." Finished Irvine. "This is great, Arya!"

The computer specialist beamed. "This will destroy both Galbadian and Drosskow's credibility, along with the forensic evidence that Kadowaki obtained from the exhumations of those IGCS employees. This evidence puts Drosskow in bed with both Martine and Odine."

Irvine and Zell made a face at each other at the thought, but Arya didn't seem to notice.

Zell stapled another packet together, looking thoughtful. "Now that just leaves tying up the eyewitness testimony that Quistis got in Tromedia."

"Which was?" asked Arya.

"Some old guy that lived next to the tower claimed that before the IGCS tower failed, a barrage of military trucks drove in there in the middle of the night. No maintenance was confirmed for that night, much less for that month." Said Zell. "But it'd be nearly impossible to tie Galbadia in-"

Arya shook her head. "There's enough evidence there to establish reasonable doubt, actually. Let's think of it. The only establishments that have mobile truck units are the Gardens. First of all, Tromedia is practically in the middle of nowhere. If Trabia were the saboteur, you'd have to consider that Trabia's military trucks are roller-based instead of wheel-based, to deal with the snow. They're gas-guzzlers because of their G-96 type engine. There's no way that they could make it to Tromedia without extensive refueling."

"True." Said both Irving and Zell.

"Now, let's think of Balamb. We both know that Balamb didn't send trucks, but let's play devil's advocate anyway. Balamb would have had to transport our mobile units overseas. To do that, we'd have to use our boat units, and even then, the mobiles are highly fuel-inefficient and would've required massive refueling. There aren't any refueling stations outside Galbadia."

Arya closed her laptop. "Now. It would be just as difficult for Galbadia to mobilize units, except for the fact that Galbadia has a remote truck base just outside Tromedia since its occupation ten years ago. It would have taken zero fuel to mobilize those units."

Irvine frowned. "I didn't know that Galbadia had occupied Trabia."

"Not many did. Tromedia was small, and Galbadia occupied it more to stabilize the region than to utilize it for resources or military territory. It wasn't particularly well-advertised." Said Arya.

Zell was looking at his girlfriend in shock. "Wow. You're amazing."

She smiled, and the three resumed their work.

Irvine chuckled. "You really are, 'rya. The hell are you doing with Zell, anyway?"

Arya grinned. "Fringe benefits."

"Huh?"

"All the hot dogs, of course."

Zell dove at her then, and she erupted into giggles as her boyfriend proceeded to tickle her senseless.

Irvine rolled his eyes. "Ah think ah'm gonna be sick. We'll have to find out where that confession is from Quistis, then. Anyone know where she is?"

Zell was currently trying to wrest Arya off of him, who was holding a pillow over his head. "Mfff tsh alfnnshy ifff Srfnnn." A pause. "Myf fnn."

"What?"

Arya looked up for a moment. "On the balcony, with Serabin. He thinks."

...

...

...

When Quistis was not working diligently to prepare for the trial, she could often be found out on the Estharian hotel balcony, staring down into the city below at odd hours of the morning and evening. It was a fantastic view, and it gave her time to clear her head. She could see the reconstruction taking place on the fringe of the city. Farther in, she could see passing people, bicycles…

…passing couples…

She gazed them with a mixture of jealousy and longing as they walked beneath her, oblivious to her observation and her envy.

Today, a family was passing under the window, carrying groceries. The father carried bags in both arms, and a little girl rode high on his shoulders, her small hands gripping his cheeks. The mother had one arm full of bags, and the other was slung in with her husband's. All were smiling.

Quistis, her chin in her hand as she leaned against the railing, narrowed her eyes as they passed. A strange kind of anger burned in her stomach and moistened the lines around her eyes. She had never been worthy of a family before, and now….it was yet another dream that was dead in her.

The little girl squinted her eyes up at the sky and, noticing Quistis on the balcony, raised her hand to wave at her. Slowly, Quistis raised her own hand and waved, slowly, as another life she would never have passed her by.

"May I join you, Miss Trepe?"

She turned to see Serabin behind her in the doorway, his long form slouching along the beam. His silver hair was getting longer, and today, he had part of it tied back, the rest of it falling handsomely across his shoulders. He had pulled out the shirt beneath his military jacket, and had rolled up his sleeves in a sloppily casual manner that was unlike him. He apparently, had finished working for the day as well.

"Yes, of course. Please." She said, moving to make room for him near the banister. "Have you and Xu finished your trial preparations?"

"As much as can be expected," said Serabin. "Edea contacted Squall. We'll leave for the wake in one week exactly. She's made all the arrangements already."

Cid's wake.

Don't think of it.

Quistis knotted her hands together. "How is Edea holding up? Did Squall say?"

"As well as can be expected, I imagine." Said Serabin. "And what about you, Quistis? You've done nothing but work since they discharged you."

"I'm fine." She replied.

Fine, fine fine.She'd been 'fine' for weeks.

Serabin frowned as he leaned onto the banister beside her, staring down at the crowds below. "So that's what keeps you out here. The view."

"It's nice, isn't it?" She smiled, and leaned out on the railing next to him. It was a small space, and their arms brushed against eachother. His shoulder was warm, and he smelled nice, like spice and sweat. "I wanted to thank you for dinner the other night, Serabin…if I didn't say so, I had a nice time."

Serabin returned her smile, and put his hand over hers. "As did I. I hope you'll let me take you out again, sometime soon, Quistis, when this is over."

His hand was as warm as his shoulder, and she felt guilty for noticing.

And what good was this? To harbor hopes for a life that was long gone…to harbor allegiances to ghosts long past…

Out, damned stain, thought Quistis, resisting the urge to drive the heel of her hand into her skull.

Her smile faded. "Serabin, I appreciate your courtesy, but it's really not necessary to-"

His green eyes glittered as he gazed out at the Estharian horizon. "Quistis, you'll forgive me for my boldness, but I find you to be a very lovely and intelligent young woman, and I can't believe that you would not realize my desire to spend time with you has absolutely nothing to do with courtesy. In fact, quite the opposite."

Quistis looked down at her hands.

"I also hope," said Serabin, carefully, turning to regard her, "that you'll forgive me for this."

She knew he was about to kiss her, recognized that intent and heated look in his eyes. Part of her knew it would be right to politely refuse him, to tell him that she was not a woman, but a wasteland and a waste of time. But she could not bring herself to do it. Though half of her wanted to keep her distance…half of her wanted to feel any other way than she'd felt the last few months. To feel anything but the heavy, dark weight of grief around her shoulders, in her chest, in her heart…

And suddenly, his lips were on hers, soft and asking. It was nothing like the last kiss she'd shared, which had been hard and demanding, and had left no room for doubt. And yet, the sensation was not unpleasant, and it was nice to feel wanted….to feel anything besides the hollow ache inside her…

She hesitated, a moment, then slipped her hands into his hair, letting her body fall into his, letting his lips ghost over hers. She closed her eyes.

Recognizing the invitation, his hands came to rest on her hips as he deepened the kiss.

Her heart ached for a moment, and reached for something-

-and closed around air. She blinked her eyes open for a moment, but they soon slid shut.

Serabin's hands were in her hair now, and gently- so gently, he was urging her closer. And so she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him there on the terrace, hoping that, for once, her ghosts would stay in the shadows and let her forget.

…

… …

Seifer was no longer sure if the pounding in his head was due to the nails or the pounding coming from the shack.

Spring had come to the mountain, and it had lodged itself in Seifer's bones, itching at him and making him restless. Sensing this, Masa moved his chores outside. As a result, Seifer's favorite activity was now reshingeling the roof, which allowed him an excellent view of the mountain range, and the dragons that soared through it. A gush of air and a high, keening wail was usually Seifer's only warning before the hiss of air on leathery wing and scale whirred past him. They circled the mountains, bellowing challenges, screeching warnings or sometimes, emitting high, mellow notes that almost sounded like singing. Seifer's favorite was a large white beast, an old albino dragon that Masa called "The White Wind". This dragon was old, and scarred, and sliced through the skies with a kind of easy grace. Seifer set down his hammer to watch him fly, sometimes for hours at a time.

The snow was finally beginning to recede on other parts of the mountain, revealing small patches of grass. For the most part, 'spring' on Masa's part of the mountain simply meant it stopped snowing for a few hours every day and that the sun was occasionally present enough to warm small patches of ground.

Seifer had also been allotted the somewhat undesirable task of handling the Chocobo pens. What the old man was doing with a shed full of ornery birds, he had no idea. The man had mentioned something about mining, but that hadn't made any sense either. At any rate, Masa had an impressive collection of the huge birds, which ranged in size and color. Seifer had little to no experience with the overgrown chickens, and admittedly, the creatures made him a little nervous. Most of the hens were calm and sweet-tempered, and ate from his hand. One bird in particular, however, a blue male, seemed intent on biting his arm off. It was the most ill-tempered and ornery creature Seifer had ever seen.

Most days, Seifer could relate.

"Ah, Glyphius." Masa had said, walking up behind Seifer one day as he poured grain into the feeding troughs, keeping a wary eye on the blue Chocobo. "Captured that bird at the base of my mountain. Wild, that one."

"I've noticed." Replied Seifer wryly.

"What do you know about Chocobos?"

"That their brain is about the size of a walnut-ow!" Glyphius had taken advantage of Seifer's momentary lapse in attention to nip at his arm. Even through several layers of animal skins, the sharp beak still stung.

"Ah." Masa nodded approvingly. "Likes you."

"Are you completely insane?" snapped Seifer, rubbing the offended area. "He just tried to take my arm off!"

"Hardly." Masa chuckled, tucking his hands back into his long robes before turning to walk out of the pens. "If a Chocobo wants your arm, Seifer Almasy, he takes it."

Seifer muttered and turned back to the bird, who was watching him intently, bobbing his head and warbling low in his throat. "Everyone on this fucking mountain is nuts," he muttered, turning to follow after the old man.

That night, Masa read from his extensive library, as he often did. Perhaps the old man considered Seifer illiterate, or was simply used to the sound of his own voice. Seifer reclined against the shop wall, soaking up the firelight and listening to the man's deep rumble of a voice.

"Chocobos were used in times of war for their fearlessness and courage in battle. A great swordsman, Ragusth, and his Chocobo, Talun, once boasted kills of over five hundred men combined in various battles of the early Trabian empire. In ancient times, an archer or swordsman would ride atop the Chocobo, and the loyal bird would take care of enemies on the ground by trampling, mangling, and pecking them to death." Said Masa, reading from an old text.

Seifer made a mental note to stay farther from Glyph from then on.

During the days, Masa emerged from the hut from time to time, a hulking slouch of animal furs, to bring Seifer water or to comment good-naturedly on how long it was taking. Mostly, however, Masa remained in the shack. The sound of steel pounding steel seemed to shake the entire mountain some days, but Masa never let him see the process. 'Bad luck,' he said. At sunset, Masa insisted that Seifer practice with the borrowed sword. Insisted was perhaps too weak a word. The old man, like Chu, locked him out of the cabin until he did it. After a few hours of stubborn freezing, he eventually concluded that there were worse things he could do than move his arms a little.

It was awkward at first, trying to transfer the natural fluidity of the blade to the uneven static of his bad arm, and he dropped it more than swung it. But it seemed to make the old man happy. And Seifer found that, somewhat against his nature, he was beginning to like the hulking old geezer, and that there were worse things than making the old man happy.

Like pissing him off, for example…

In the evenings, he and Masa would sit by the fire in the soft robes, and Seifer found himself beginning to speak about everything: of Xu and Garden, crazy Odine and the missing children, of Quistis and Cerberus. He wasn't sure why words seemed to come so easy with the old man, but once they started, it was hard to stop. Masa seemed to take a special delight in hearing of Quistis, in particular. The giant's booming laughter shook the walls when Seifer told him stories of Cerberus and how Quistis had faced both the dog and a room full of frightened shipping men, and how he had embarrassed her in a run-down bar. He told him how they had stolen a ride on a train, and how she had exploded a Marlboro in the snow, and wound up wearing it.

It was difficult to speak of her at first, but Seifer found himself laughing at points, too, and it helped him to get past the pain of speaking her name. She was distant in this place- far away from Esthar and Balamb, he could speak of her almost as if she were still alive. Masa, for his part, spoke of great swordsmen, and great battles long past. Seifer found that he was fascinated by the wars of the old times…it was easy to forget that the honorable warriors of old fought wars started by the same greed and stupidity that created them today.

"Only a dead man has seen the end of war," Masa had said ,once. "And yet, I make each of my swords hoping it will never be needed…craft each blade in the hopes that it will never see blood…that its presence alone will make peace. I suppose it is foolish…a painter who paints pictures that he hopes will never be seen. Still…I suppose I make swords…so that one day, they will no longer be necessary. That, one day, all men will lay down those swords, and be redeemed."

As Seifer crouched on the roof, the world below him and covered in a mix of snow and shadow, he reflected on what the old swordsmith had said.

He was tired. He was tired of feeling guilty, tired of hanging his head like a broken horse with an abandoned bridle trailing behind him. But, could he be redeemed? Could sins ever be repaid? Could all the blood spilled in his life ever wash clean?

No. Even here, a thousand miles away from the people and pains he had run from, he knew that redemption was an idea for lesser men, of men who were capable of forgetting the things they had done. There would always be blood on his hands. The memories were the price of what he had done, and bearing them would bring him attrition from the pain of it…but never would it bring forgiveness. There would always be stains on his heart that soaked too deep to wring out...and he deserved to have them there. He could never forget that…and he found he didn't want to.

But could he avoid shedding more blood? There would always be wars that called for the blood of innocent men, and those that were willing to spill it. Could he be one of those men?

In all truth, Seifer had not wanted his old sword reforged. He had never wanted to lift it again, never wanted to hear that metallic song and know that it would mean death for either him or the thing in front of him. The closer Masa came to finishing the sword, the more Seifer realized how little he wanted to lift it again.

His breath condensed to a thick vapor in the air as he hammered the last nail into the now finished roof.

Done.

It felt good to be finished…a clean and simple feeling. He was proud of the roof. It was honest work…perhaps the only honest work he had ever done in his life. Leaning back on his haunches, he looked up at the sky and thought about two swords and a stream. He thought about a faded coat and a wasted life.

He thought about a pretty girl by the ocean, her hair whipping in the wind and her laughter chasing him through space and time.

That night as they sat by the fire, Seifer found himself once again thinking of one particular story that Masa had told him, one that weighed heavy on his mind. The fire crackled in the fireplace, soaking into his skin and warming his feet. Masa was unusually quiet tonight, legs folded and his large palms resting on his knees. He appeared to be thinking heavily about something as well.

"I've been thinking about what you said. You know, about the two swords." He said.

Masa raised an eyebrow.

"I guess it's kinda like my childhood. Growing up…I hated my old man. He was a drunk and a failure. I always thought he was a good-for-nothing bastard, but now I think…he was just weak. It's easier to break things. It's easier to hit a kid than to raise it. It's easier to turn your back on things than to fix them. And after my mom died, he took the easy way. And though I swore I'd never be like my old man, that's how I've lived my life up till now…the easy way. I cut down everything that stood in my way, and turned my back on the things I couldn't push around. Like the first sword…I thought that was power. I thought it would make me happy, but it didn't. When Adel showed me the two futures, a future with power, and a future with none, I was…surprised at which one I wanted."

Masa looked thoughtful, but nodded at him to continue.

"When I was younger, I couldn't wait to go off to war. I was always waiting for an excuse to fight. Didn't matter who, or where. I wanted to be the best. I wanted to be unbreakable. And if that meant knocking people down to get there…I was fine with that." Seifer stared hard into the flames, frowning. "I looked for any excuse to draw my sword. Now, I'd give anything not to. When Adel showed me the two futures, I realized that I wanted the second future. That I didn't want to fight anymore. I was tired of fighting. I think I've been fighting my whole life."

Silence, except for the crackle of the fire.

Seifer looked from the flames to Masa. "It's kinda like those swords, I guess. And I thought, in a perfect world, the most powerful warrior would never have to draw his sword to make peace. Just him being there…that would be enough. He'd be…a watcher, not a destroyer. That's real power, I think. That's how I want to be…someday, if that's possible."

Masa said nothing, but smiled.

…

…

…

The battlefield was beating like a slow, dark heart, throbbing in her blood. Sticky in her head, pulsing...She shook her head, trying desperately to clear the foggy sluggishness that clung to her limbs.

Quistis!

She turned her head at the sound, but no one was there.

The breeze picked up, threading through her hair and stirring the tears on her cheek. Absently, she brushed her fingertips against the moisture.

Why am I crying?

Emerald plains stretched out, scorched and battletorn...the earth was charred with the marks of war. Thick, black scraps cut into the ground beneath the blue sky…scars the children made upon their mother.My arms don't hurt.

She looked down at her wrists, only to find that there were no scars, no traces of anything at all.

And yet...

She could feel the earth beating...she could feel the heart of the battle beating in her arms...stuck inside and wanting to be free...to get out...

…GET OUT...

"Stop it." she commanded, and the sound cut to silence.
Clouds were stirring overhead, rumbling with the approach of a storm. She blinked.

The battlefield was filled with Galbadian soldiers...their flesh dripping from their skeletons with every step, pouring into the earth like pale paint...eye sockets filled with a strange, red light. Sons. Daughters. Fathers. Sisters. They saluted her, one by one.All dead.

Cid, Seifer…

All dead.

She closed her eyes.

No more.

She swept her hand across the blurry, bloody canvas, and the picture faded. Disappeared.

She looked at her hand, astonished, and looked up to see what remained.

The ocean. The ocean, calm…sunset spilled across it like a still canvas.

And just like that, she was a child again, her small hands buried in the sand and her summer dress blowing around her ankles. The pain in her arms was gone.The cottage. Before I left.

She gazed out onto the water, and found herself staring at a young man knee-deep in the waves, his eyes tainted and the once bright luster faded, his forehead carved with a tell-tale scar.

Seifer.

The Seifer she knew. The Seifer she remembered.

He was reaching out to her, shouting something that was lost in the pound of the waves. Trying to run to through the water, trying to reach her.

Without a second thought, she barreled into the waves herself, the icy chill nearly knocking her back. She reached out her hand, and it was her own once again, tainted with scar tissue and the constant pain of the poison.

She gripped his hand, and it was warm.

I missed you.

He was saying something, but she couldn't understand him.

The waves were growing stronger. She could feel her hand slipping. There was sadness in his eyes.

Resolution. She was losing him again.

"No!"

A flash of light, and she was being carried. Carried somewhere. It was wet, and cold, and bumpy….

"Draw." His voice, stricken, shouting at her. "Wake up, Quistis!" Being shaken. Being held too tight. "Wake up!"

"Turn left here! Left! You can't go up that road!" Another voice, shouting over the motor.

"Can't you hurry it up?"

"The engine'll blow if we go any faster!"

"Draw…ugh, fuck! Just go faster!" Being pulled up….pulled into the pain.

Wet rain on her forehead. She just wanted to go to sleep…to sleep where the ocean was waiting….

She wanted to reach up to him, to tell him it was all right.

"Wake up, Quistis."

"Wake up, Quistis."

She opened her eyes to find her pillow soaked with tears, a strangled sob lodged in her throat. She gasped for breath and rolled onto her back, her hair stuck to her cheeks and her heart racing.

An arm wound around her, solid and warm. Green eyes in the pale light of the bedside clock.

"What's wrong?" Serabin's eyes, filled with concern, his voice scratchy with sleep. The press of his naked skin against hers was warm and she rolled over into his waiting arms, her face nestled into the crook of his shoulder, her eyes wide open in the dark.

He shifted. "Quistis, what is it?"

Quistis shook her head, tears sliding silently down her cheeks onto the pillow. "Nothing...it's nothing. Just a dream."

…

…

…

The following morning, there was a large, cloth-wrapped object that was laid out in front of the fire, soaking up the shadows of the coals. Dawn had not yet surfaced, but a thin, milky light was beginning to pour over the mountain, bathing it in the first fires of morning.

"Come and sit with me." Said Masa, hunching his hulking form into a sitting position in front of the fireplace.

Seifer approached the dying fire, staring down at the package in front of it as she sat down.

Masa bowed. "Your sword, Seifer Almasy."

Finished.

Carefully, Masa leaned forward and unwrapped the velvet covering, revealing the shimmering surface of a blade. Cupping his hands beneath the blade, Masa set the sword before him.

It was the most beautiful blade Seifer had ever seen.

The sword was larger than the old Hyperion, and flatter. Seifer could see a slight gold tinge in the metal, one that caught the light in subtle, straited strands.

"Your mother's ring." Said Masa. A large, scarred hand passed over the blade. "Your stories, too."

The blade arced slightly out to a long, solid triangle tip that looked like a silver icicle, pointed and sharp. Seifer ran a thumb along the edge, and drew his finger back with a film of blood on it. The underside of the blade had been whetted to a fine, thin razor edge as well- sharp enough to penetrate both skin and bone, if necessary. It was going to be a bitch to sharpen.

Masa seemed to read his mind. "A sword is like flesh, Seifer Almasy. Like a scar, it heals twice as strong as before. This sword will not break. This sword will never need sharpening. This sword," said Masa, "is indestructible."

A small cross shape had been etched out of the metal near the hilt. Fire Cross.

Seifer tried to pick up the sword and nearly dropped it. The weight was at least twice that of Hyperion. Gritting his teeth, he forced his crippled arm to support and steady the sword's weight, looking along the length of the blade.

"No revolver hybrid," said Masa indignantly. "The grace of a blade should not be compromised by the crudeness of a gun. This is a pure broadsword style. I've eliminated the diagonal handle, which I believe with your hawk-style blade play will increase leverage power substantially."

"How do you know my fighting style?" asked Seifer, frowning.

Masa smiled. "Watched you practice."

Seifer tested the weight of the sword. Perfect balance.

"It is a good sword." Masa said simply. Coming from the seasoned sword smith, however, the modest words were weighted. The sword was more than 'good.' It, like all of Masa's works, was unparalleled.

It didn't look like his old sword. It looked better... strange. Still, the vibrations that cut through his arm as he swung the blade were familiar, tremoring up his arm like a familiar embrace. Hyperion's weight was still in there, but the balance was more fluid now…less choppy. It reminded him of the blade Masa had loaned him, except this blade was heavier, less easy to wield.

"Hyperion." He muttered.

Masa shook his head. "No. Hyperion is a dead blade...a ghost in this metal." He ran his fingers along the metal as if it were a sleeping child. "I will tell you a story, Seifer Almasy. In the legends of the old gods, Hyperion had a son, one he named Helios. The child was born crippled, disfigured. So, Hyperion cast him down from Heaven, to be lost and forgotten in the cold shadows of earth. But Helios survived, and became a light that one day outshone his father."

Helios. Seifer frowned as he stared at the blade, at its pure and shimmering surface.

Masa was smiling as he watched Seifer lift the sword. "This blade is like you, Seifer Almasy," he muttered, too soft for Seifer to hear. "It carries legacy of a fallen father. This blade, then, will be your guiding light. …and may you be Helios, a guiding light for men."

…

…

…

The seaside cottage seemed smaller than she remembered. The cold stone floors, the wood furniture…all seemed diminished in some aspect she could not name. But, she supposed, that was the consequence of growing up. To watch the world around you shrink in strange ways, until everything was distorted or forgotten. The world had not changed, but she had, and it bent now against her perception, instead of the other way around.

She stood in the entryway, letting the silence settle over her.

If she stood still long enough, she could hear old ghosts shuffling past her feet, winding through the silence trailing laughter from years long past.

If she looked hard enough, she could almost see a little boy with darting through the small stone cottage…a little boy with green eyes and a shock of blonde hair-

She blinked, and he was gone.

"Quistis."

She turned at the sound of her name to find Edea standing in the doorway, her arms filled with flowers. "My child. I'm so pleased you're here."

Quistis set down her suitcase and dutifully walked to her surrogate mother, embracing her. She had not embraced Edea often- the older woman had always maintained a distance between herself and her children, her kindness and love a constant presence, but always slightly out of reach. Quistis supposed it was because she had not really expected her children to return to her…or that they were borrowed children, children on loan from tragedy.

Indeed, perhaps they really were more Fate's children than any mortal mother's.

Edea set the flowers down and held her at arm's length, a smile on her lips. "You're looking much better."

Quistis bowed her head respectfully. "Thank you. The others are still on the Ragnarok, taking care of some last minute arrangements. The other boats should be arriving shortly."

The ships…the soldiers…all come to pay homage to a fallen king. Fatherless children come to bury their father.

Edea walked into the kitchen, setting down the basket. "Please, come and have a seat. The children are out playing by the ocean."

Quistis pulled up a seat at the kitchen table. "I know. I let Cerberus down by the water so that they could play with him." Despite the dog's somewhat exaggerated reputation as an eater of children, the large mongrel actually seemed to enjoy their company, and took great pleasure in chasing them down the beach. Since the children seemed to enjoy being chased, she'd left them all by the shore to enjoy their mutual arrangement.

Edea put a kettle on to boil. "Tell me, how do preparations for the trial fare?"

Quistis shrugged her shoulders a little. "We're as ready as we're going to be. Everything should be in order."

Edea nodded. "Cid would be proud…of all of you."

Quistis blinked back tears at Edea's unexpected compliment. "Thank you." Being here was still too raw…the sunlight on the walls still carried too much pain….seemed too out of place. How could she explain to Edea that she had seen Cid in her dreams…that he had walked into an ocean and that his last thoughts had been of her, or how much he loved her?

Folding her hands, Edea stared down at the table top, her shoulders shaking slightly.

Quistis was snapped out of her own thoughts, and she reached across the table to place her hand over Edea's. The woman's hands were cold and wrinkled slightly with age, and Quistis became acutely aware of just how old Edea had become. "What is it, Matron?"

The older woman looked up, tears shining in her dark eyes. "I was just thinking…that the reigns have passed to you, now. In time…I hope you will forgive Cid and I for these burdens."

Quistis' gaze was level. "There is nothing to forgive. You and Cid gave us a home. You gave us each other. Home and family…is more than we would have had without you."

Edea let her words, so similar to Seifer's sink in before she spoke again.

Edea smiled, weakly. "You are very kind, Quistis. You have always been…very kind." She looked across the table to her surrogate daughter, appreciating the wisdom in her blue eyes and the bearing she knew weighed heavily on her shoulders.

Meanwhile, Quistis offered her matron a smile, soft with the submission of a child and the assurance of a grown and capable woman, a woman that Edea knew would take her place when she was gone and in many ways already had.

She swallowed her grief, then, tucked it back into the shadowed corners that those who know death keep all too well and clasped Quistis' hand. "Shall we walk by the water before the ceremony? The children have been wanting to meet you, all of you."

Cid, fading into the water. Cid, thinking of Edea as he passed beyond the deep waves…

He likes it when you come to the water.

Quistis closed her eyes for a moment until the shadow passed. "Yes. Let's go there now."

…

…

"Into the earth, I walk in shadow, but let all mortal shadows stray from my heart-"

It was a sunny, peaceful morning…the kind he would have enjoyed.

Ceranian willows whispered softly in the breeze as it fanned its delicate breath against the ocean waters, leaving ripples in its wake. The ocean was oddly calm, and lapped softly at the beach, bathed in the first crimson hues of sunrise.

"Flesh and bone to fire and air, sight to sleep and oblivion. In each ending we find a beginning, and in each grief we find comfort."

She could almost see him walking along the shoreline, his pants rolled up and clutching his brown loafers, shirt untucked…

But no. That was only a dream. It was a dream of a different ocean, infinite miles away from the one she stood on now. She turned her gaze away from the water.

"Fallible flesh to lux eterna…"

Thousands had gathered, and now faced the waters behind the small orphanage, a sea of black-clad figures staring solemnly out to sea. Quistis let her eyes rove over the crowd, skimming over the familiar faces and taking some comfort in the fact that her grief was shared.

Edea stood at the Hynian priest's side, her face obscured by a dark veil. Squall and Rinoa were also up near the front, and Quistis could see the bright sheen of tears on Rinoa's pale cheeks. Squall looked impassive as always, but Quistis read his grief in the way he gripped Rinoa's hand, a rare public show of affection.

Xu, Serabin, and Davin Korbeil all flanked Edea's left, hands folded behind their backs and looking somber. Quistis knew their standing together was as much a show of Garden unity for the coming trial in a few hours as anything else, seeing as the press had managed to squeeze one or two bugs into the funeral guest list. Occasionally, a camera flash went off—they were hardly being subtle about it. All the new headmasters wore a black sash across their breast, as well as the one the rest of the crowd wore around their arms.

Grief. She could feel it in all of them, woven tightly so as not to spill over. It weighed them into the grass, so that with each wind that picked up, it would not carry their hearts along with the many already lost. Quistis recognized the usefulness of grief, and its application as an anchor in troubled times, but she could not yet give reign to hers. Not yet.

She glanced to her own right, were Irvine, Selphie, Arya and Zell were all standing. Irvine had his arm around both her and Selphie, and Quistis was grateful for the support. She leaned heavily on Irvine's shoulder, grasping Selphie's hand and squeezing.

The Hynian priest waved his staff in the direction of the water. "All my battles being fought, I lay my weary arms to rest-"

"It falls to you, Quistis."

Why me? Why not Squall? Even now she could not understand…did not want to understand…

"Flesh and bone to dust and air…."

You were in a coma, Quistis. What you dreamt of was only shadows of a life.

But…when I went into the water…I wanted to go. I would have, if something hadn't hauled me back-

"And so I walk thought the valley and I swim through the streams, a thing of air and ash, a creature of wind and fire-"

Dreams…the voices in the water…

No. They were real. They were…waiting.

Quistis' somber blue gaze fell out onto the water, where thousands of candles were floating in memory of those lost. Each candle burned dimly in the bloody dawn, bobbing gently on the lapping waves. She focused her sight on one straying from the large cluster, slowly bobbing out to sea. Tied with a red ribbon…she had tied it herself.

Seifer. Always alone.

"Let me release my sorrows and my pain, let me walk in the light and ebb gently back into the slumber of time, where all pain is erased, where all tears are ended…let me cross this bridge to light through death's brief darkness-"

The priest's voice droned on, and she could feel nothing but the ebb and fall of the ocean. The very rhythm was anchored in her bones.

"Let me release my flesh into the water's memory-"

At this, Edea raised the small sliver urn and uncapped it, and they all watched as Cid's ashes floated out toward the water, spiraling in the wind before disappearing into the waves.

Quistis stared ahead, trying hard to blink back tears.

Cid Kramer was gone….and all that remained of his legacy were the orphans of a war-torn world, scattered across the sandy plain.

They were alone. They had always been alone.

They had once been able to take comfort in Cid's leadership, believing that in some way he would protect them. That he would make sure everything would be in order. That he would take them in, no matter what…that Garden would protect them under his small but stable power. This was not true. Cid had been a man, vast in his intentions but limited in his abilities. In the end, however, he had given them the greatest gift of all; he had given them each other.

"Though the flesh has faded, the memory remains. Per aspera ad astra, omnes una magna nox-"

Quistis kept her gaze fixed on the water.

Goodbye, Cid. I'll see you again.

The priest stepped back, bowing as he did so. "The widow Kramer has asked that Squall Leonhart speak to you all today on Cid's behalf."

Squall looked up into the crowd, and without preamble, began to speak.

"Death is an altering force. It leaves the world around us diminished in a capacity that we can't see, or taste, or touch. It changes us, and so, though us, it changes our world." Squall cleared his throat, putting his one good arm behind his back. The other arm was now set in a cast, concealed partially by his jacket. "We have buried a father today. We have buried sisters, and brothers, and lovers, and surrogate parents, and it is now, more than ever, that we wonder at the cost of living. We wonder at the cost of loving. We wonder at the cost of being brothers, and sisters, and lovers, and, most of all, the cost of being soldiers."

"And I know some of you have come here, today, looking for answers. You want me to tell you that somehow, this is all worth it. That everything will be all right. And I'm sorry…I can't tell you that. I won't. You'll have to answer that yourselves."

A low murmur echoed through the crowd.

"But I can say this. Cid gave us a family. He gave us a home, a home unlike what many of us were used to. Today we bury a soldier…and a father, a husband, and a friend, and we are left with his dream. It is in the dream that the fallen soldier lives, and where he will continue to live. It's our dream now, if we want it. Cid Kramer can live on, if we want him to."

He paused.

"None of us are born soldiers. It is a mold that casts us, not a mold that we decide for ourselves. It is a road that chooses us as much as it is chosen. A soldier lives life on the edge of a second- each moment that lasts beyond that second is a gift, and one we must cherish with those we love while time is granted us. All of us will die. Some of us will die soon. Today, tomorrow. It doesn't matter- it's inevitable.

Therefore, it is not how we die, but how we live, that matters most this moment and the next. The brevity in which one's flame is lit and extinguished out does not determine the strength of one's flame while it burns.

In the next few weeks, you will have to make a decision, to stay at Garden or to leave it. The costs have become too much for some. For those of you go, know that you go with Cid's blessing, and an honorable discharge. For those of you who stay, it will be a hard beginning. Labor to rebuild is going to be voluntary. As for me, I've made my decision. This is my home. You all have your own decisions to make. I can't promise you that everything will be all right, but I can promise you that we will face the future together. The only certain thing about our future is those who love us…those who choose to face it with us."

Tears fell silently from Rinoa's eyes, as she stood next to him, and she bowed her head. Quistis knew that Squall's last comment had been directed at her.

The wind picked up across the water, stirring the candles across the waters and shattering the light on the waves. Many of the spectators closed their eyes.

Squall looked out at all of them, his eyes a curious mixture of grief and determination. "We passed the gates of Balamb Garden knowing that it could be our lives, our blood, and our desires to pay for the air that others breathe. A real soldier's glories are simple and his trials are great: the laughter of children, and the fall of nations. Cid once told me that a soldier's trial is that we had to crawl through the worst parts of humanity to preserve the best. He told me that a soldier is very like a butterfly, a changeling figure who enters a tiny, ignorant worm and molds itself tirelessly to the mechanical ministrations of order and discipline and becomes something greater than human. These men, these women have become their last form. Their hearts beat beneath our feet. If we grieve them too long…if we refuse to feel the sunshine or to feel the warm wind against our backs, then they have died for nothing. But if you live…" he paused, "…then they live with you. Ad astra per aspera, omnes una magna nox."

To the stars through the thorns…the same night awaits us all.

Silence as the large group before him bowed their heads in respect.

After a few moments, Squall looked up, expecting the crowds to have dispersed.

Not a single soul had moved.

One of the young men stirred. "Your orders, commander?"

Squall looked like he was torn between astonishment and sentiment. For a moment, Quistis thought he might cry, but the moment quickly passed, and his face returned to its normal mask. "Get on the boats to Esthar, and await the trial results," he said. "There will be still be rooms available for Balamb. After the trial, our fate will be decided, and we move from then."

The crowds began to disperse, and Quistis wandered towards the water, where the saltwater willows dipped their graceful limbs into the small tidal pools that gathered there in the early morning. The pools were warmed by the sun, filled with crabs and starfish that they had once gleefully harvested as children. That time seemed an eternity away now.

She gazed towards the water, where the others were gathering, solemnly watching as one by one, the candle flames dimmed to nothing in the calm, caressing lips of the waves.

It would be time to go to Esthar soon. Time to face the Supreme Council. Time to do what Cid had asked of her.

She walked barefoot towards the edge of the grassy dune, shoes in hand as the thin blades of grass tickled her ankles. There, underneath the largest willow tree, there lay an unmarked grave, one from which no earth had been dug. One that held no body.

The stone was engraved in the old tongue, taken from the Book of Hyne. She knelt before the small stone, tracing her fingertips over the engraving.

Pulvis et umbra sumus

Ad astra per aspera.

Ad augusta per augusta.

Salus

Ad vitam aeternam…

We are dust and shadow

To the stars through the thorns

To high places through narrow roads

Salvation

For all time…

Quistis sighed into the breeze, feeling a numb kind of peace flow over her.

Her fingers curled as an unexpected wave of pain shot through her arms and she leaned hard against the tree, sucking her breath through her teeth as it passed. The phantom flashes came occasionally, jerking through her arms like a stalled current. Ghost magic. Quistis supposed it was her body's way of casting out the pain, the agony that she had slept through those long days.

She pressed her hand to her lips, and with a shaking arm, pressed her fingertips to the cold stone.

One last kiss.

"Goodbye, Seifer Almasy." She whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Quistis. It's time to go." She turned, and met the solid, grey-blue gaze that had greeted her from her coma.

Squall.

Squall, offering her his arm.

Something had changed between them, something deep and unspoken. He was…protective of her now, overtly so, a constant shadow in her step, as if he were afraid that she would disappear.

She nearly had, after all.

He stood before her, his commander's metals clinking together in the wind, his metal blue eyes finally filled with the affection she had tried so hard to wring from him as a child. Since the what some were now calling Third Sorceress war, Squall had been more open with his affections, and with his feelings. For someone as repressed as Squall, this mean he showed them occasionally, like a fish flashing the white of his belly in dark depths. As he watched the truths world unfold around him, Squall was beginning to realize that withholding his feelings for others would not prevent those he cared for from being taken away, and that holding people at arm's length for the time that he had them would not make their loss any less painful. Squall, like the rest of them, was growing older, growing wiser, and though perhaps not better for it, growing up.

His brown hair tangled in the wind, and she knew this is how she wanted to remember him forever. Young and proud, stoic and stubborn. A true soldier. Her brother. Her friend.

"Are you ready, Quistis?" Concern in his expression.

Rinoa's words came to mind.

Protect them. Protect him.

She straightened, wiping her sleeve quickly across her face. "Yes, of course." The Ragnarok loomed in the distance, waiting to take them to Esthar. She threaded his arm with hers, leaning slightly against them as they climbed the small incline.

She did not look back.

…

…

After Seifer had dressed, he found the sword smith waiting for him in the main room.

"Come with me," he said, then turned to go outside.

The first thing Seifer noticed was a giant blue chocobo standing calmly in the middle of the lawn. Glyphias.

"You let him out," said Seifer, surprised. "I thought for sure he'd run away."

"No. That bird's nothing but bluster. Only pretends not to like it here, like someone else I know."

Seifer looked closer, and noticed that the overgrown chicken was staring expectantly at him, dressed in the same bridle and sadle that Masa's war books had shown.

Masa squinted. "Take Glyph with you. Bird hates everyone else but you, anyway."

Seifer frowned. "Yeah, about that. I'm pretty sure he wants to kill me, actually."

"You don't know much about Chocobos, do you?" Masa rolled his eyes. "Hold out your hand to him."

Seifer looked over at the sword smith like he was insane. "Are you kidding me?"

Masa folded his arms. "Hold out your hand."

"No way."

"Are you afraid?"

Odd how that playground taunt never ceased to work on him.

"Fine, but you owe me a new hand when he bites this one off," replied Seifer, wincing as he stretched out his hand towards the large bird.

"WARK!"

Sure enough, the large Chocobo craned back his neck and dove for Seifer's hand, beak opened to crush the bones-

Just as suddenly, Glyph's head came to a halt, capturing Seifer's wrist in his huge beak and firmly but gently taking it into his mouth. The bird squeezed, and Seifer could feel the bones in his hand bending under the pressure. Abruptly, the pressure stopped.

"Wark!" This sound was softer…almost affectionate.

"You see, Seifer Almasy? Not all trust is foolish."

Seifer opened his eyes, amazed to be staring at his hand and not a bloody stump.

Glyph was staring at him, head cocked and making a low rumble in his throat, like the bird version of a purr. If he didn't know better, he'd have to say that the bird was having a laugh at his expense.

"See? I told you. He likes you. All show."

Seifer looked closer and saw that the chocobo had been fitted with a chest harness, and a large pack was secured to his back. "Food in there for three days," said Masa. "Glyphius knows his way down the mountain."

"But this is-"

"Your Chocobo now. For services rendered." Glyph turned to Seifer, and let out a loud, "WARK!", as he scratched at the snow.

"But you said-"

"That I did not accept payment for my services. I said nothing of paying others for theirs. I have no use for money or obstinate chocobos on this mountain."

"Uh..." What the hell was he supposed to do with a chocobo once he got it down the mountain? Still, he understood that Masa was only trying to be nice. And, Glyph was pretty cool, he supposed. Scary, but cool.

"What am I supposed to do with him…you know, once I get down?" asked Seifer.

Masa shrugged. "That is up to Glyphius."

"Here." Masa glanced over at him and pressed an object into his palm. "A memento. An echo of the dead."

Seifer looked down into his palm to see a chunk of Hyperion's metal, twisted with a hint of gold into a thick band. Hyperion…Helios…and his mother's ring.

"Better now this way. Her metal makes yours stronger, see?"

"All your life, you fight. Even now." Chu's words. "You are perhaps your mother's son, then, eh?"

"…thanks," said Seifer, at a loss for words. Somehow, it wasn't just a ring….it was an affirmation of the good that could be…that once was in him. He jammed it onto his pinky finger, where it was snug.

Masa's eyes sparkled. "Give it to someone special, eh?"

He had no heart to remind the man that everyone special in his life was lost to him.

Seifer shouldered Helios onto his back, looking down at the valley below him. Trabia's freezing temperatures had abated somewhat in celebration of spring, and the wind carried a hint of warmth instead of its usual poignant bite. Dark clouds were gathering on the horizon. There was a storm coming.

He turned to Masa, whose scarred face was upturned to the sky, a strange smile on his face.

Seifer had never been good at goodbyes…they always made him feel like was losing someone forever, and it was almost always true. And so he quickly climbed onto Glyph's back, steadying himself.

Masa nodded his head. "You will come back and visit." It was a statement, not a question. And with that, he slapped Glyph's hind end, sending the Chocobo into a gallop.

He didn't know what else to say. Frankly, no other words could do justice to what the old man had done for him. And so, as the Chocobo hurtled down the first crest, he raised his hand and waved.

Growing farther away, he could see the wise old giant raise his hand…and wave back.

Riding a Chocobo was like nothing Seifer had ever experienced before. The down of the Chocobo feathers were as warm as three layers of animal skins- Glyph's wings folded over his legs and pressed him against his sides, warming and securing them. It was a good thing, too, otherwise he was pretty sure he would have fallen on his ass the second the huge Chocobo moved.

Seifer faded in and out of consciousness on the way down, slumping in his sitting position into a sleeping hunch. He did not bother to steer, as Masa had said Glyph knew the way, and he could barely see ahead of him. Every so often, he reached into the pack to chew on some of the jerky that Masa had packed for him or to sip from the canteen, but mostly he tried to see through the snow and steer the Chocobo down the mountain.

Hours into the journey, the storm had gotten so thick that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. The Chocobo, however, seemed to know where he was going. Glyph's eyes were shielded from the blistering winds by a thin membrane of protective skin, so the Chocobo simply lowered his head and charged down the craggy cliffs, not stopping but seeming to weave through the tundra like a fish through water. He found himself lulled to sleep more than once by the smooth rhythm of the Chocobo's stride, and after awhile, stopped trying to stay awake.

He woke up sore and squinting through a strange mixture of snow and sunlight. Glyph was breathing hard, his head lowered as his powerful legs lunged the pair of them forward. No sooner did the Chocobo round a familiar hill than a similarly familiar figure came into view. Chu was standing expectantly, arms folded, in the exact same position that Seifer had left him weeks ago. Why that didn't surprise him, he couldn't say.

Chu quirked an eyebrow as he approached, a strange smile hinting at the corners of his lips, the same Masa had worn.

That same, knowing smile.

"Took you long enough!"

…

…

Quistis Trepe had never liked flying. There was something fundamentally unnatural about a 2 ton craft sweeping through the clouds, defying both ground and gravity.

Either that, or there was something fundamentally unnatural about Selphie's flying.

Cerberus, however, didn't seem bothered by the plane. He was sitting at her feet with his head in her lap, watching the clouds go by and occasionally growling at the ones that ventured too close to the ship for his liking.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

Quistis turned and lifted an eyebrow at Xu, who was just sitting down to buckle herself in. She'd been walking around the ship for the past hour, presumably going over trial preparations with Squall and making calls to the Trabian and Galbadian headmasters, confirming court times and statements. Some would be worn under the strain of coordinating so many different efforts, but Xu fairly shone. She had been an excellent choice for Headmaster: she was driven, tenacious, and steadfast. She was also too nosey for her own damned good.

"As usual, I have no idea what you're talking about." She replied simply, glaring at her best friend.

Xu rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that. I know that look of yours. You were daydreaming."

Quistis rolled her eyes, running her hand over Cerberus' broad head. The large dog let out a satisfied growl in response, and gave up cloud-watching to lean into his master's hand. "Don't you have better things to do than monitor my sleeping habits?" asked Quistis.

"Not for the next seven hours, no." Ramming the heel of her hand into her jaw, Xu deftly cracked her neck. Quistis winced at the sound. "You know, Serabin's going to be at the trial."

Here we go again.

"Yes, I know."

"He's asked about you. How you're doing."

Quistis didn't respond, but turned to look back out the window.

"And?" Xu raised an eyebrow.

"And, what?" asked Quistis, irritated.

Xu was not deterred. In fact, in the last few months, Xu had pressed her friend's normally uncontested walls more than usual, irritating her out of her emotional cage. Quistis understood her friend's good intentions even if at the same time, she resented them. Now, however, after Cid's wake, her emotions were raw, and she simply wanted to retreat back into the same corner that had granted her shelter all those years ago- the numb, distant shadows of her past.

"And, Serabin's got a lot going for him," persisted Xu. "Maybe you should think about what he can offer you."

Quistis's gaze was cold. "Well, I don't have a lot to offer him," she snapped, continuing to absently stroke Cerberus behind the ears as she once again turned back and glared out the window.

Xu grit her teeth in frustration. "You can't-"

"I can't what, Xu?" snapped Quistis, turning from the window, her eyes narrowed into slits.

Xu's sighed. It was Quistis that had comforted her after Cid's death…Quistis that had awoke from her coma to find her family unraveling. It was Quistis that bore the weight of that emotion…the same Quistis that had not shed a single tear of her own in front of anyone since she awoke.

You can't keep this all inside.

You can't hold all this in forever.

You can't be strong for all of us all of the time.

The anger in her friend's eyes faded as quickly as it had come, however, and her shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry Xu. I suppose I'm just…"

"…tired." Finished Xu, her voice uncharacteristically temperate. "Then sleep, Quistis."

Xu fully expected an argument, and was astonished when her friend smiled, sadly, and turned back to the window. In a few moments, her eyes had slipped shut, and Cerberus had resumed 'cloud watch'.

Xu watched her friend sleep, a gentle look on her normally stoic face.

Sleep, Quistis. Let someone else watch over the world for awhile.

…

…

…

"Where in the hell are we going, anyway?"

Chu glanced behind him. "I told you, for walk. What it look like we are doing? Pull taffy? Knit sweater?"

The old man, like Seifer, was wrapped in warm furs with and strapped to a pair of homemade snow shoes. Unlike Seifer, however, the little old geiser didn't sink beneath the snow crust, and seemed to glide along the surface, whereas Seifer had been knee-deep from the beginning. The two had been trekking for over an hour now, and Seifer found himself grow more impatient with every step.

Seifer grit his teeth. "So you've said. But where are we walking to?"

"Bah!" With a wave of his gloved hand, Chu turned around and kept walking. "So impatient! Best journeys taken with no direction in mind."

"Yeah, if you're senile and trying to waste time," muttered Seifer. Chu had insisted that Seifer bring Helios with him, and the blade strap was beginning to cut into his shoulder. He hadn't lifted the blade since his return, much to Chu's frustration, and no amount of pestering, locking out, or plate throwing on Chu's part could make him do it.

In the pack that Masa had given him, Seifer had found not only dried meat and a canteen of water, but more gil than he had ever seen in his life. He had counted the coins and the bills several times, and concluded that there was well over half a million gil in the packs. Baffled, he'd asked Chu why Masa had given him the money, and the old man had shrugged, saying that Masa had little use for money and always repaid his debts.

Seifer had found a fire Draw point along the way, and equipped himself with a few of the spells. There was no reason he had to freeze to death, and if push came to shove, he could always use Chu's stubborn corpse to keep himself warm for a few hours. He entertained himself with the thought as they walked.

Seifer had stuck Glyph in the cabin for some much-deserved rest, figuring the bird could do no worse damage to the dilapidated shack. Now, he almost wished he'd dragged the ornery blue canary along. His feet were killing him in these stupid over-sized tennis rackets.

Chu stopped suddenly in front of him, and Seifer nearly barreled into him.

"Ah, yes. We've arrived."

"Arrived where? In the middle of nowhere? We didn't need to walk a hundred fucking miles to get nowhere. We could have stayed where we were and been there already." Snapped Seifer.

The old man ignored his tirade, and stared gleefully into the distance. Seifer looked ahead to see what the old man saw, and immediately took a step back.

There, in the clearing, was a group of adolescent Ruby Dragons crowding a large Wendigo carcass, clawing and snapping at one another in bursts of fiery snarls.

"Are you nuts?" hissed Seifer, but Chu simply held up his hand for silence, his dark eyes trained to the scene. One Ruby dragon was more than enough to deal with on your own…but five young adults was suicide.

"I kill the Wendigo days ago. They find it, at last." Said the old man, smiling. "Ah, excellent timing. Here he comes."

That was it. The old man had finally snapped. Seifer's thoughts were cut off, however, as the sound of wings flapped overhead. Seifer looked up to find that "He" turned out to be a white dragon descending on the small group of dragons, announcing his presence with a challenging roar. The dragon was large for a Ruby Dragon, but bore all the similar markings. Thin wing branches, an exaggerated skull crest, and elongated front legs…but it was albino white.

Was it the one he and Masa had watched? Impossible…Seifer squinted.

The smaller dragons looked up, scattering as the larger dragon landed in the middle of the fray, fire spewing from its mouth like a crimson foam. Snarling, the other dragons immediately jumped back, save one, who foolishly tried to face off the older dragon, lunging at its throat. In less than a second, the larger dragon had pinned it with its long forearms and craned its neck to snap its massive jaws around the neck of the fledgling, severing the head with one clean snap. The young ruby dragon's body twitched, then lay still, spurting steaming blood into the now sullied snow.

"Fuck." Muttered Seifer. Peering closer, he could see that the dragon was covered in a puzzle of old scars, some of them quite large. Well-muscled, eyes a sharp shade of ruby. This dragon was a veteran. This dragon was intelligent.

This dragon was the same one that he'd seen on Masa's mountain, skimming the skies from time to time. It was his dragon, the one he had watched for hours from the snowy roof. What had Masa called it?

The White Wind.

Chu chuckled. "Hai, he is quite old, ne?"

"I guess. I've seen it on Masa's mountain, before," replied Seifer. "So why the hell are we here?"

"You're going to kill it."

Seifer scoffed. "Like hell I am."

Chu gestured at the large dragon, shouting down at the massive beast. "Vae victis!"

Woe to the conquered!

The dragon lifted its massive head at the noise, red eyes swiveling to fix upon the pair atop the hill. Narrowing its eyes, it let out an earsplitting roar, Wendigo flesh dripping from its jaws.

"Perhaps this will make you lift sword arm."

Seifer stared at the old man, baffled. Had he cracked another screw loose while he'd been gone?

Chu gestured towards the dragon with his staff. "Aut vincere aut mori. A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi, Almasy."

No. He'd knocked them all loose.

"Ne feceris ut rideam…" muttered Seifer.

But the dragon was already starting for them, clearly regarding them as a challenge to his territory and his meal. As far as Seifer was concerned, the stupid beast could have the rotting Wendigo and the whole damned frozen mountains.

As far as the dragon was concerned, Seifer and Chu were small, noisy pieces of meat.

Chu had already settled himself into the snow, crossing his legs and placing hands over his knees.

Seifer moved to draw his sword, then stopped. "I don't want to kill it." He said, taking a step back. "It hasn't done shit to me."

Chu just smiled, manically. "It's about to." Seifer considered moving and leaving Chu in the path of the dragon, but couldn't bring himself to do it. There was a fey quality about the old man lately, a resolution that Seifer couldn't quite understand. It was as if Chu had aged more in the last few months than in the three years he had known him.

"Morituri te salutant." Muttered Seifer wryly, moving to draw his sword. He needed to move out of the way. Chu was in no position to get up, and at the rate it was going, it could trample him. Seifer shuffled to the side, going further down the hell and meeting the dragon halfway. He moved to draw his sword, and braced his feet.

The dragon was faster than he had figured, and before he could draw Helios the rest of the way, the dragon had slammed into him, sending him sprawling clear across the field. He could see one of his snowshoes flying, on fire, in a graceful burning arc. It landed in the snow, still burning as it protruded.

He drew in a pained breath, rolling over into a standing position only to lurch to the side as a wave of flame missed him by inches.

"You fucking-" Seifer dodged to the side again as the beast once again tried to immerse him in flame. The dragon lunched, and Seifer kicked out with his foot, catching the monster in the face with the snowshoe. The dragon snarled and snapped at it, splintering the wood and nearly catching Seifer's foot in the process. He really needed to put some distance between him and the dragon. "Crazy old man!" he shouted, once he got enough air in his lungs to finish a sentence. "Are you trying to fucking kill me?" With a sweep of his arm, he managed to draw Helios the rest of the way- and nearly toppled over with the weight.

Chu cracked open an eye. "No. He is."

Seifer turned again, stumbling back as the angry dragon flapped its wings at him, sending another gust that nearly dropped him over. He stumbled, then promptly stuck his sword into the ground. Digging in his feet, he lunged forward on the blade and dodged to the side.

"Qvae nocent docent," called Chu, shouting from the hill.

Seifer dodged again and attempted a swipe at the dragon as it lunged forth, jaws snapping and spewing the terrible odor of rotting meat. Staggering back, Seifer's arm managed a clumsy arc upwards, a defensive swipe. The dragon jerked its head back, and proceeded to draw in a breath in anticipation of another burst of fire.

"A little help here!" shouted Seifer, praying to Hyne for a freak asteroid to strike the damned beast in the head…or Chu.

Whichever.

"Perfect battle! Two most stubborn creatures on mountain!" Laughing, the old man closed his eyes again, apparently meditating.

Helios weight was too heavy…too new. His crippled arm sagged under the weight, and even the support of his other arm did nothing to help.

"Fuck!"

Gritting his teeth, he once again brought up the sword, drawing it around in a side-arc and catching the dragon across the side of the snout. Blood sprayed across the snow, and the dragon shrieked, staggering back and swiping at its face. In the next instant, it spun, thwacking Seifer in the chest with its tail. The breath flew out of him once more, and he flew across the snowy field, landing in a sea of white powder.

This is like that damned Marlboro fight, he thought ruefully, and he struggled to sit, spitting his own blood onto the snow as he gasped for breath, managing little more than a croaking sound. He stretched out his arm, fingers curled in front of the approaching enemy. "Fira!"

The flame streamed out, catching the dragon in the face with a loud, hissing roar. As the dragon's belly was made of mostly flame anyway, the magic had little effect on it. The beast simply ducked its head and continued its charge, lowering its crest to impale him. He rolled quickly again, trying to see through the cloud of white. Something knocked him back again, and he looked down to see that his jacket had been slashed open, having caught only the tip of the blow. Just in time, he managed to bring his sword up just as the dragon's fangs snapped at his face, catching the blade instead. More blood gushed down onto the jacket as the dragon buried its gums on the blade, shrieking. Instead of drawing back, however, the pain incensed the creature, and it snapped harder, clawing closer. More blood spurted from the dragon's gums, and soon Seifer could not see for the blood in his eyes. The beast narrowed its eyes and pressed closer, forcing Seifer's already shaking arms down. Soon, Seifer would have his own sword buried in his neck. The dragon's crushing weight was on his legs, making moving impossible. He stared up into glowing eyes, and found his own will to live pushing at his chest. Gripping the blade handle, he twisted it, causing the blade to bury itself even deeper into the dragon's gums. More blood washed over him, sloshing onto his face and blurring his vision.

Shreiking, the dragon snapped its head back, stumbling back and arching its head towards the sky, shrieked with pain. Its long, white throat was exposed, and Seifer brought the sword back, putting all his power behind it as he drove it into the dragon's chest.

Screaming, the blade embedded in its heart and spilling brilliant dark blood onto the bright, pure surface of the hill, the ruby dragon stumbled back, the sword still sticking from its chest. Flame poured from its mouth, but the breath stalled and it staggered, snarling, defiant, its ruby eyes fixed towards the grey sky as it tumbled over. After a moment, it no longer moved, and Seifer relaxed, sinking back into the snow.

He did not move from his position on the ground, staring at the same grey sky and trying to catch his breath. He did not know where Chu was, and secretly hoped the crazy old fool had spontaneously combusted.

His chest was killing him. Adrenaline ran hot in his veins, pumping through his arms and making him dizzy with the feeling of being alive. The dragon's blood was wet and warm against his own skin.

"Ah! So you can wield sword after all, idiot!" Suddenly, Chu's grinning face appeared above him, blocking his view. "Just stubborn!"

Seifer frowned, angry. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he panted. "I didn't want to fight the thing in the first place!"

"Masa taught you well, I see." The old man glanced behind him. "That feeling in your veins? Righteousness." Chu glanced over at the dragon. "It was a good death." He said, nodding. "A good fight."

"I used to think…you were nuts." Muttered Seifer, still gasping for breath. "Now I see…."

Chu smiled at him.

"…you're….completely fucking insane."

…

…

…

In the many years that Seifer would know Chu, he would never understand him. The man was insightful one moment, demented the next.

The man was also as abrupt as a Trabian snowstorm.

It was in the spirit of this abruptness (and perhaps a little dementia) that Chu woke him up one morning with an elbow to the stomach, telling him it was time to leave. Seifer replied with a muffled obscenity and pulled a pillow over his head.

The old man was not deterred. Seifer let out a grunt as Helios' oppressive weight was dumped onto his stomach. "Time to go," the old man announced as he walked out of the cabin, "You go home now."

Home? Where the fuck was that?

Seifer cracked open an eye. "What, you're throwing me out?"

Chu poked his head in. "Snow melting. Get ass moving. Time to go."

Rubbing his hand over his face, Seifer reluctantly dipped his feet over the side of the mouse-ridden mattress to focus his eyes on the room, worming his feet into his boots and pulling on a shirt.

On one of the remaining chairs, Seifer noticed a white coat draped over his other clothing. Picking it up, he ran the pad over his thumb over one of the sleeves. Leather. Soft, white leather. The coat was cut like the old, grey nightmare that had eventually rotted off of him, except for the coloring and the fact that a red cross was cut down the center of the coat, the horizontal fork cutting over to spread across his arms, much like the tattoo on his back.

He shrugged the coat on, rolling his shoulders. Perfect fit. A pair of soft leather gloves were also laid out next to the jacket, the leather worn to a soft, supple texture.

Frowning, he pulled them on with his other clothes, grabbing Helios and pulling the sword scabbard over his shoulder, the tongues still flapping out of his boots. He was not, nor did he ever hope to be, a morning person, and considered all activities conducted before sunrise an act of torture. Chu, however, was immune to this line of thinking, and routinely beat him awake before the sun came up.

Outside, both Chu and Glyph were waiting, and Seifer was surprised to see how much of the snow had melted, reducing the mountain to a partially snowy, but mostly soggy, mess. The chocobo had already been tethered, and two small leather packs were slung under its wings.

Chu grinned, slapping him on the back. "I see you find coat."

"Yeah…thanks."

"No thanks from me!" The old man laughed. "A gift from White Wind!"

Seifer rolled his eyes. His real 'gifts' from the white dragon were still healing.

Chu folded his arms. "Where you go now?"

They'll have buried all the dead by now. They'll have buried...her.

But where?

There should be a memorial at Esthar...shouldn't there? I'll go there first. I want to put the ring on her grave. I want to tell her…

Flowers… she should have flowers. White flowers.

I want to tell her...I want to say goodbye.

Esthar, then.

He looked over at Chu. "Balamb…Esthar…I don't know. There's someone that I want to say goodbye to."

"Ah." Chu's eyes were sparkling. "Remember what I say, Seifer Almasy. Hoshi wa te ni korobanai. Hoshi wo toraete ne? You must catch her."

He'd told Chu a million times that Quistis was dead. He, like Masa, seemed to have particular amnesia where she was concerned.

He wished he were so lucky.

"Yeah, I'll remember," he muttered.

The old man responded by cracking him upside the head with his stick one last time for good measure. "You better!"

"Damnit old man!" Rubbing his head and muttering to himself, Seifer climbed up onto Glyph's back. "Thanks for everything," he said, rubbing his head. "I think."

"Via cruces." Said Chu solemnly, raising his hand in farewell. "I shall see you again, Seifer Almasy."

Glyph took off, his long legs pumping as his neck strained forward, hurtling down the mountain like a loose blue cannon. Seifer, for his part, dug in his legs and did his best to hang on. For an instant, as he turned to wave goodbye, he thought he saw…a glimmer of something in the old man's dark eyes.

A shimmer of ruby, powerful and familiar, a light that seemed to pierce him with the force of memory.

Where had he seen it before?

Just like that, however, it was gone, and the figure of the old man had disappeared down the hill.

Seifer turned forward, and pulled his hood down over his eyes. For some reason, he didn't feel sad. He thought of Chu's words.

I shall see you again.

He didn't doubt it.

He knew, somehow, he would see both Chu and Masa again.

…

…

…

Balamb. The word alone used to be enough to cover his tongue in a bitter taste.

But this time…was different. Balamb had changed…or maybe he had, he wasn't sure, and he found he no longer cared.

The streets seemed brighter and busier, and the people's expressions seemed…less hostile. Their faces were lit with curiosity rather than the bitter condemnation he was used to seeing. This, of course, was probably because they didn't recognize him- there had been no beauticians on the mountain and he was sure he resembled the Wild Man of Trabia more than Seifer Almasy, ex-war criminal.

The Balamb hotel loomed up ahead, and he gave a baffled (and frightened) valet Glyph's reigns and checked into a seaside room. He looked at the room service pamphlet and ordered a large meal before hopping into the shower. It was time to shave and get a change of clothes that didn't consist of several dead animals, and time to check out the local realty and see if anything cheap was available for rent. As for a job, well…he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. He had heard that the local fishing industry was always hiring help to unload the boats onto the docks, if nothing else.

Wrapped in a hotel towel and smelling better than he had in months, he peeled back the maroon curtains to gaze out at the sunset that spilled across the water.

Time to think of the future, if indeed men like him were supposed to have futures at all.

…

…

The Esthar Inn was uncharacteristically quiet. The Balamb soldiers who had chosen to stay, following Squall's orders, had arrived by ship less than an hour ago, and had all promptly returned to their hotel rooms to sleep.

The door to Esthar Inn Suite 228C, however, was a rather noisy exception.

The Balamb Heroes were sprawled out across the twin beds, a mass of arms, legs, and tiny hotel liquor bottles. Even Squall had abandoned his original stern pretense of 'not drinking the night before the trial', and indulged in several of Irvine's 'vodka surprises' himself. Both Squall and Xu seemed to recognize the plain truth: the work for the trial was finished and no more could be done in preparation. The small group was overtired and overwrought. And so, in the spirit of youth and in the throes of grief, they had drank each mini bottle the hotel had to offer, and dedicated every toast to Cid, Fujin, Seifer, and their other fallen comrades. Irvine and Zell drank a toast to Gzarth, recalling their last mission, which caused everyone to laugh themselves.

Now lazy with liquor, they were content to sprawl across the flowered bedspreads and each other, giggling like the adolescents they'd never had the opportunity to be.

The 'heroes' were in a fine state. Rinoa, Zell, and Arya had all been two sheets to the wind after four large drinks, and even Xu and Irvine had submitted after six. Quistis, Squall, and Selphie, the surprising contenders for the night's heavyweights, had lasted until the bottles had run out, but had eventually shared their more lightweight counterpart's silly fate. Xu, however, had cut them off at 9, leaving them plenty of time to sober up before the trial.

Rinoa, who was sprawled out on the corner bed, her legs propped up on Zell and her head resting in Squall's lap, dissolved into another fit of giggles. "I can't hic believe that your girlfriend hic out-drank you, Irvine."

Arya, slouched between Zell and Rinoa, joined her in giggling.

"Damned right!" shouted Selphie, pumping her first into the air. "Booyaka! No one out-drinks Selphie Tilmitt!"

The short brunette promptly tipped backwards after her enthusiastic exclamation, leaving Xu to catch her before she knocked both herself and Irvine off the bed. All three of them began giggling.

Irvine was sprawled out, his arm flung over his head and his hair loose. "Rub it in, why doncha," he moaned. "My rep'tation's never gonna be the same..."

"'I doubt if it could get any worse than your reputation after the hospital, Kinneas," slurred Squall. Quistis joined him, affectionately bumped him in the shoulder, which caused the young commander to smile.

"Har har," muttered Irvine, aiming a pillow at the commander's head. Squall managed to dodge, and as a result, Rinoa took the full impact of the fluffy projectile. The sorceress fell back and lay still, her hands spread out like an inebriated starfish.

Concerned, Squall removed the pillow from his fiancé's head, only to find her giggling. Rolling his eyes, he placed it back over her head, which caused everyone else to erupt into laughter.

The rest of the night was spent remembering the moments that ordinarily, might have caused them pain- reminded them of a time that was long past and could never exist again.

"Hey, remember that time when Zell crashed the t-board into the-" Irving was laughing so hard, he couldn't finish the sentence. "-girl's bathroom-he-he couldn't get up off the-"

"Wha?" asked Arya, sitting up, as Zell cast a murderous glance all around. "What'd he do?"

Quistis put a hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to stop laughing. "It wasn't nearly as bad when he tried to cast float on that bike and he-"

"Oh, that's it!" shouted Zell, hurling a pillow at Quistis' head.

"Yeah, but none of you know about the time he chained himself to a hotdog stand, and lost the key!" chortled Arya, practically breathless with laughter. Zell picked up another pillow and chucked it at her.

"What is this, pick on Zell hour?" huffed Zell indignantly, and promptly began throwing pillows at everyone. But after awhile, he, too, dissolved into laughter.

After awhile, the group quieted down, and exhaustion mixed with unavoidable grief finally began to settle in their bones. They had buried a father today, and that knowledge would not be soon forgotten.

Xu's expression became serious, suddenly. "We should go to bed."

Squall nodded. "We have to be ready for tomorrow."

"For Cid." Echoed Quistis quietly.

Selphie nodded, and scooted to the edge of the bed, placing her hand straight out between the two mattresses. "For Cid, then."

Nodding, each of the group members placed their hand into the pile, their gaze sinking into each other's. Huddled in the hotel room, surrounded by plastic bottles from the minifridge and swaying where they sat, for a moment they resembled children playing grown-up games of war and politics than orphaned killing machines. It was their eyes however, each gaze belonging to that of a friend, and a killer, that changed the tone.

Determination. Resolve. Kinship.

They were the children of a lost era, brothers and sisters born of and during battle. Their bonds ran past flesh…ran deeper than blood. No matter what tomorrow brought, they would always have each other. That was the legacy Cid had left them. Not an army. Not a war. But each other.

"For Cid."

…

…

…

"This here is a prime piece of real estate." Said the portly little man, wringing his hands. He'd been doing that since he saw Glyph and Helios. Seifer supposed that the man didn't get many clients wearing swords…or riding Chocobos. He still found the latter pretty strange himself.

Seifer folded his arms, lifting an eyebrow. "That's odd. The sign says "condemned."

"Uh, just a synonym for fixer-upper!" chirped the man nervously. "Anyway, it's got a spacious front porch, 4 bedroom, 2 bath, tool shed and a boat shed out back. Stone fireplace-"

The inside somehow managed to be worse. A tapestry of spider webs slung along high ceilings, and the floors creaked like a 90-year old crone's spine.

Seifer frowned. "All the windows are busted."

The agent bit his lip. "It's uh, air conditioned. Nice ocean breezes-"

Seifer twisted the brass knob on the kitchen sink faucet, and with a loud groan, the faucet spat a torrent of muddy water into the basin. Seifer jumped back just in time to avoid the spray.

The agent let out a nervous back of laughter and scratched the back of his head.

The only piece of furniture left in the house was a moth-ridden couch, that, when looked at, released an unhealthy dose of dust into the already musty air.

"I'll uh, leave you to discover the other uh….riches of this hidden treasure," muttered the agent, as he quickly exited the house, swearing as the bottom step broke under his feet. He could hear a loud clang after the door shut, and ducked his head out to find that the back door had fallen off its hinges.

Great.

Seifer narrowed his eyes at the house. It was a Dolletian style two story including a third story attic with a resident mouse population that was fresh out of a grade-b horror film. The roof needed reshingling, the cabinetry inside needed replacing. Still, it had a front porch, and it was on the ocean…termites did not appear to have gotten to the hardwood floors yet. The place had promise.

Seifer walked outside. "2500 gil a month for one year, renting to own, and the Chocobo stays."

"We'll have to zone it for an agricultural type property-"

"Yeah, fine, whatever, just draw up the paperwork."

Glyph let out a loud WARK from across the yard, which made the agent jump three feet in the air…again. He'd gotten the same reaction from the people at the Trabian ferry when he'd tried to declare Glyph as carry-on luggage.

"Done." Said the agent, a little too quickly. "If you'll just come by the office, we'll draw up the paperwork and get you a livestock permit for that lovely…thing…of yours."

Hours later, Seifer sat on the rotting boards of the porch swing and watched the sun die. Glyph milled around the yard, chasing the seagulls and basking in the fading light. Seifer supposed he could make the boat shed into suitable quarters for him, if the Chocobo decided to stay.

A porch swing and a view of the ocean…just like she had dreamed. If he squinted, the huge bird looked kind of like a dog…with blue feathers…

Even though he had traveled all over the world, nothing beat a Balamb sunset. Creamy clouds spilled over the horizon, soaking up the rich oranges and purples of the dying light. It was lonely in a way that he understood…a kind of kinship that he had felt since his admission to Garden. Some nights, he used sneak out to watch the sun set over the harbors, smoking cigarettes and hanging his feet off the dock and dreaming crazy dreams.

Now, older and wiser, he carefully leaned back in the porch swing, narrowing his eyes at the sun-stained waters.

Tomorrow, he would go and see her.

Tomorrow, he would say goodbye.

The Balamb crash site in Esthar was settled in the middle of a barren grassland. A clean up crew, wearing both Estharian and Balamb uniforms, was milling around the crash site, loading the heavier fragments onto flatbeds and collecting smaller pieces in bags. The memorial was apparently a mile up.

The clean-up crew was apparently used to an audience, and basically ignored his presence. Glyph milled around somewhere in the background, chewing grass and being ornery. Seifer hoped he didn't bother any of the clean-up crew. He didn't need to deal with any disemboweled volunteers. He'd had enough trouble convincing the captain of the ship from Balamb to Esthar that the Chocobo would stay in the cargo bay, and not eat any cars.

He walked around the perimeter, lowering his dragonskin hood and looking around.

Rain everywhere…the trucks were stuck in the mud and there were soldiers everywhere, shouting. Some were running with him, trying to dredge through the mud to get to battle. Most were dragging the wounded back, shouting for help and announcing the retreat.

"The tank is advancing! Return to Balamb and hold your position!"

"The retreat has been ordered! Defend the base!"

He was calling for her, scanning the crowd for her face, pushing through the mass to try to get to the battlefield.

The Galbadian tank was advancing, and the troops were pressing their position, picking off the Balamb soldiers as they retreated. Still, a lone figure was holding their position at what remained of a firing platform, bracing themselves on the shields and opening up the guns. The person was either a hero or a fool.

Maybe both.

He kept running, only to see her pressed against the gun platform, her hair tangled in the wind and her shouting a defensive spell before the earth became a rush of fire and rain…

"QUISTIS!! QUISTIS!!"

"Seifer Almasy. So you are alive." A deep voice boomed behind him. He jumped, his jaw tightening as he recognized the owner of the voice.

Time to face my ghosts.

He turned, slowly, his expression guarded. "Rajin."

There were bags under the young man's eyes, and his muscular frame had shrunken to a lean, stretched tone- the past few months had not been good to him. Seifer remembered the old Rajin: tenacious, energetic, stubborn as a damned Wendigo and as big as a damned bus. But then, perhaps Rajin's vibrancy had only been in contrast to Fujin's stoicism. Looking at his friend now, Seifer became painfully aware of Fujin's absence…and painfully aware of the contrast she had provided for his friend.

And what now? Would Rajin try to finish what he started? He didn't move. When Rajin didn't, either, Seifer felt himself slowly relax.

Fujin would not have wanted this awkward silence between them, and curiously, it was Rajin that broke it first. "I wanted to say sorry, ya know. For the way I acted towards you. It…wasn't your fault."

Seifer turned away. "I understand what-"

"No," said Rajin firmly. "I didn't understand. I didn't want to. Dr. Kadowaki told me later-" The giant paused. "Told me how her back was all twisted up and broken, ya know. She wouldn'ta wanted to be like that. Fujin was…real proud."

"Yeah…she was." Echoed Seifer.

"So…thanks, I guess. And sorry."

Heavy silence.

"What are you going to do now?" asked Rajin.

Seifer shrugged. "I'm going to the Esthar Memorial. You going to stay with SeeD?"

Rajin shook his head. "Naw. After this, I'm leaving. Too many memories there. Ain't the same…without her, ya know?"

"Do you know where you're going?" asked Seifer.

Rajin shrugged. "Not really. I guess it doesn't much matter anymore, ya know?"

Seifer thought a moment. He remembered Fujin's gaze, pleading with him to take care of Rajin, to make him safe. He had always been the follower in the trio, an orphaned tiger too sweet to know he had claws and too dumb to figure it out. An idea struck him, and it was obvious what he had to do.

Maybe it was to lessen his grief. He would never know.

"Here." Rajin looked up just in time to catch the set of keys Seifer tossed at him. "There's a construction job there, if you want it. It's a shithole, but the rent is free, for as long as you want it. I'll be joining you, but…I've got some stuff to do, first."

Rajin looked down at the keys. "Hey…thanks, man."

The two stared out at the ruins, finding a fragile companionship in remembering a fallen friend amidst the scattered embers of a fallen dream.

"She was something, man." Said Rajin wistfully.

Seifer nodded. "Hey, remember when Cid made the Disciplinary Committee plan a fundraiser? You thought up that stupid pie sale, and we had to cancel it because Fujin smashed all of them over your head?"

"IDIOT." Fujin, storming out of the kitchen pantry, her eyes venomous and Rajin dripping with banana cream as he trailed after her, bewildered.

Rajin's eyes clouded with grief for a moment, remembering, and Seifer worried that he might have said too much. Maybe the pain was too new…too raw…

Just then, however, Rajin broke into a laugh, an old, deep stomach-laugh, and Seifer joined him, thinking that Fujin would have liked to have seen them this way. That, wherever she was, maybe she was laughing, too.

He hoped so. Fujin's smiles were like Balamb sunsets…beautiful, rare, and fleeting.

…

…

"Yes, I understand." Xu set down the communicator on the hotel bed. "That was our clean-up crew in Esthar. Seems Almasy's been sighted in both Balamb and Esthar now."

Squall frowned as he pulled on his ceremonial SeeD jacket, making sure the medals were secure. "Could be a rumor."

Xu shrugged as she adjusted her tie. "Who knows. Martine sightings are still running rampant in Trabia, and that man is deader than dead. I oversaw his autopsy, for Hyne's sake."

Squall raised an eyebrow. "Should we tell Quistis?"

At that, Xu frowned, adjusting her collar. "She's been through enough. There's no need to get her hopes up if all of this turns out to be bored natives foaming at the mouth. Has everyone else gone?"

"Last time I checked, Rinoa and Xyrxes reported from the balcony that the others were starting to arrive."

"Good. Let's go."

Squall turned towards the door, running a hand through his hair. "Still, I can't help but think…that telegram…"

Xu placed a hand on her commander's shoulder. "Think of the trial now, Leonhart. We can deal with ghosts later."

… … …

Supreme Council Courthouse, Esthar

The hallway was the longest she had ever walked in her life. The long, marble slab stretched out in a pearly white mixture of sunlight and shadow, and it seemed to go on forever. She could hear her heart in her ears, clear and steady like a nervous drum.

Her own shadow rippled across the stone as her heels echoed through the empty corridor, the sound hollow in the thick, distant silence.

She focused on the wooden doors ahead of her. The doors to the largest and most powerful courthouse in the world- the Supreme Council. After today, she would leave those doors either a SeeD or a civilian.

"I will defend my honor and the honor of my comrades. For honor, for peace, and for the lives of my brothers and sisters, I will give my life…"

Once again, she found the oath of the SeeD echoing through her mind. She found, to her own surprise, that the words still carried the same weight as before, the same learned, poignant fervor. In all that she had come to doubt, she still found meaning in Cid's words to them, a gift of comradery and strength in the times to come. And they would need it.

The elegantly dressed guards at the door bowed, and with a heave, the great wooden doors opened to her.

In the courtroom ahead of her, a dangerous and corrupt government waited. Treacherous and stupid men. After today, they would seek her blood.

Today, she would seek theirs.