Warnings: Male/Male sexual content
Chapter 37
Reckless
I would have woken up, had I ever been asleep. Truly asleep that was, and not the intermittent dozing which was all I was currently capable of. Sleep wasn't something I wanted. Not right now. Not right now. Not now when all that rested behind my closed eyelids was...
...fire lit darkness, screaming, blood, harsh smoke, no, no, no..!
Nothing I could deal with right now. Or make sense of. So dozing would have to do, because nothing else was worth the risk.
Right now, I needed to be awake. Awake and alert and ready to make decisions as soon as Seifer returned and gave me an update on our situation. Only then could I make a solid plan, something concrete, not the amorphous thoughts that had so far been folding through my mind.
Along with the lurking fear, the rising guilt, the pain that had no name.
I looked up from my slumped seat on the comfortable couch and rubbed at my pained eyes. Too hard a hit to the head, too little rest and too much snow; enough to almost blind me with its radiance. After the connection to Balamb had gone dark, we had tried to get the truck back on its wheels to no avail. The other car's axel was snapped, making it useless despite the engine ticking over fine. There had been no choice then but to use our feet, despite the hazy, light-headedness I knew couldn't be a good sign, and the swift drop in temperature as the sun began to wane.
It had been a trek, long and torturous, through the blizzard towards the closest structure we knew of. Unfortunately that had been Trabia. Something I didn't want to see, not before we knew what had happened to Balamb. I didn't want to see it until I knew it wasn't a reality elsewhere. Until I knew that Trabia would be the worst thing I'd see that day.
Of course nothing could promise that, and I'd berated myself for even clinging to such a useless notion. Zell had been determinedly quiet as he tried to keep us in line with what was left of the trees. We had ploughed on. Then, once we passed the tree line and the only landmark we had was completely gone, we had become completely lost. I remembered Seifer and Zell bickering. I also remembered Seifer refusing to let go of me as he held me up, arm around my waist to keep me steady.
Then the blizzard had thickened, enough to whiteout. Then the cold had set in properly, and no amount of huddling could make up for wind chill factor and snow encasing our legs.
Which was when it had turned up. At first I thought I had been hallucinating, a not unlikely scenario considering I probably had a head injury, was dehydrated, in early stages of shock, and freezing to death. Still, I had stared at the small beast, trotting towards us awkwardly, bright orange fur and feline features almost shy.
"Am I the only one seeing this?" I'd managed to mumble before it reached out and touched me with a nervous paw.
Then I had slept. Or dozed. Or whatever I'd decided to call it. Passed out is probably closer to the truth. Then I was here, wherever here was, wearing a set of soft, blue clothes in place of my surely wet, frozen leathers. A calm, quiet village in the snow that, as far as my muted mind could remember, we'd never been told about in our advanced geography course.
There was a rustic charm to the place, what little I'd seen of it. Populated by the same strange little orange felines that had rescued us from the snow, as well as odd lumbering looking things with massive chins and long fingers which I had only seen pictures of in cryptozoology section of the library. I thought I associated the name Shumi with the picture and the place, but that was as far as I could get.
The room I had been left inside was small, with the sofa where I sat inlaid into a bay window. Across from me sat a table, and to my left was a curved wall with a yellow door which I was quite sure I hadn't been through. The wall to my right sported an ornate carved doorway, inlaid with coloured glass and flanked by round port-hole windows and inlaid lights. Turning to look behind me, beyond the window of the small, wood carved, warm room, I was face with the sight of plants and flowers in a small garden and what looked like a dome in the sky.
Outside, it looked like your typical, woodland community.
In the middle of the frozen northern wastes.
I didn't try to understand. There was no time to waste on understanding that. No time when I didn't know, still didn't know if...
Still didn't know who, or how many, or when, or if...
Instead I waited patiently, dozing when I needed to. He'd said he wouldn't be long. He'd said that to me. Said that to me over an hour ago before he left me sitting in the room, with a strict order to stay put on my ass or he'd kick it into next week.
My eyes were slipping dangerously closed when the door finally reopened.
"About time," I muttered into my hand as I scrubbed at my face; I would have stood up, but found my legs unresponsive.
Seifer didn't say anything as he entered, oddly still dressed in his slightly damp janitor's outfit that I had forced on him at the prison. It was as if he didn't want to change out of the suit, or simply hadn't been forced to during unconsciousness as I had. The number '12' was blazoned onto the right brest pocket, something I hadn't noticed before. At the prison, the D-District prison where we'd broken him out and then we'd run out of gas and then we'd talked and then the missiles...I clamped down. Enough already, I thought, enough.
"Did you manage to get any information?" I asked as he walked further inside, stopped by the low table in the centre fashioned from a wide tree stump, walked a little further, "Seifer?"
He looked odd. I knew I was barely awake, dazed, in need of a good meal, a hot bath and three years of sleep, but I had been around Seifer Almasy long enough to know when something was wrong. And something was wrong. It wasn't difficult to figure out. Seifer was an easy man to read unless he was trying his best to deceive. His face and body were animated at all times, whether to show scorn or hate or laugh or grin or be lascivious or thoughtful or...
But now...nothing. He stood in the room, arms crossed, and avoided my gaze.
Which only left my mind straying into dangerous territory.
"Seifer," I said bluntly, "do you have any information?"
Turning round, he suddenly walked over and sat down carefully on the tree-stump-table right in front of me. We sat, facing each other without looking at each other, for a few minutes. Then he took a long inhale, letting it out slowly. When he rubbed at his eyes, I noticed they were slightly unfocussed, glassy.
Something was very wrong.
"Seifer. Report."
No reply, though he did swallow. As if he had something to say, but was not yet ready to say it.
"Should I take that as a no?" I managed to squeeze out; he didn't respond, merely looked up at me, "you've been gone for over an hour. Did you find a radio? Anything? Seifer would you just talk to..?"
"It's gone," he interrupted, voice soft and low.
"That doesn't help me," I said, keeping calm in the face of the looming panic those words cautioned, "I don't know what you mean."
"Don't know what I mean?" he said in that same tone, catching my gaze and holding it; a flash of violence as he leaned forwards into my face, "Don't know? Did I fucking stutter? I said it's gone. Balamab, gone. What the fuck else would I be talking about? Fucking gone alright! They fucking did it, those Galbadian fucks, they finally fucking won one over on us, huh? All that bravado, all that playing up the rivalry, name calling, stupid fucking little things that, that..! Wow, now it's easy, right? Pretty difficult to play inter-garden sports when you've fucking blown up the competition! Fucking blew it all up. Fucking sweet Hyne!"
Then he was sitting back, looking panicked and a little hysterical. Gone. As if he'd been holding it all inside until I pulled it out, kicking and screaming. All gone. And I stood up because it's what my body told me I needed to do rather than having any clear goal in mind. I managed to stay upright only just on shaking legs before the dizziness overpowered what little reserves I could hold onto. I fell back down onto the sofa awkwardly, hand automatically jumping to my face to rub away the black spots in my vision while the other held me up by the elbow.
"Squall," Seifer said agitatedly, shuffling forwards to hold me still, hands around my biceps, "lie down. Just fucking lie down, alright?"
"I need to..." but the words didn't go anywhere, and that thought stuck in my throat; the words didn't go anywhere, because I had no idea what was supposed to come next.
"You need to get some rest," Seifer sounded like he was suffering from the same problem, the same utterly lost confusion, "alright? For me, ok? You hit your head pretty bad out there and even the docs here don't know if you're one hundred percent. So take it easy, alright?"
All gone forever. I lay down without much of a choice. My body was shaking with exertion and shock. I stared at the ceiling, one leg hanging from the sofa, the other bent up to fit into the small space. Hands folded on my stomach, which was currently folding slowly in on itself.
Gone.
"Seifer."
"What?"
Couldn't be.
"Are you sure?"
"Am I..?" an angry sound from his general direction, though I couldn't see him, "Am I sure? You think I'd come in here and say that to you without being sure? What kind of heartless fuck do you take me for?"
"When did you hear it?" I asked practically; always confirm your sources, never take hearsay at face value, "Who from?"
"Don't do this to me," Seifer warned, "fucking don't, alright? I don't need this."
"I need to..." I cleared my throat as my mind stuttered, trying to find the right procedure to follow, the correct protocol to run through: in case of emergency and without authorised instructor supervision, SeeD must reconvene to the nearest Garden and await further instruction... "we need to get to..."
Only there was nowhere to go. Galbadia was out of the question, the enemy now, our enemy. And Trabia, and Balamb...it would have been lunchtime, when the missiles hit; cafeteria full. People sitting by the fountain, talking, laughing, playing cards. How many did Quistis manage to get out? How many did we save?
Quistis. My mind blanked. For a moment I just lay there, breathing. The room felt tiny, claustrophobic. Then a rushing. A horrible, bizarre rushing as my mind overflowed with a need to know, to know, to understand and be sure and make a plan and keep them safe and...
"How many?" I asked, clinging to one of the more relevant questions I could think of like a drowning man.
"How many? How many what?"
"How many casualties?"
"What kind of fucking question is that?" Seifer loomed into view, face livid, "Why the fuck would I know that?"
"We need to do a damage assessment," I said as calmly as I could, forcing myself to sit up, moving Seifer back.
"Shut your fucking mouth," he snarled, "don't you have anything else to say?"
"We need to assess and regroup. Do you want to..." gone, "to sit here waiting for the Galbadians to take their next step? This..." all gone, "this was all set up for something bigger, can't you see that? Where's Zell, we need to..." all gone forever.
The hands fisted into my shirt didn't stop me, but the rough shove against the back of the sofa did. What little breath I'd managed to pull in was pushed right back out. Seifer's fingers curled until the knuckles were white, his red rimmed eyes terrified and furious now that they were pushed so close, the hot breath from his words bursting against my skin as he spoke.
"Not another word," he spat, pushing tighter, closer, until I could feel the weight of him against my side, "not another fucking word."
Wanting to speak was a knee jerk reaction to the order, to being ordered not to. Tell me, will you? I thought, Tell me? What the fuck is it to you what I do? You're the one overreacting. You're the one being overly emotional, letting your feelings get in the way. We need to reassess and make a plan for moving forwards. What good is screaming and shouting going to do? It won't do the dead any good, and be even worse for the living.
It was only when his fist hit my face that I realised I had been talking aloud. All my thoughts pouring out without a filter to vet them. I fell awkwardly, rolling to the left and down onto the floor with a jarring thump between the sofa and table. My vision dimmed, then brightened. I felt sick.
"Shut up! Just shut up! They're all dead, don't you get that? Doesn't that mean anything to you?" he was yelling, hoarse with grief, kicking the table out of the way, "Just once, Hyne, just once in your life can't you shut the fuck up!"
I lay there, breathing. The heat of the blow throbbed at my left cheek. All gone forever, just like everyone else. There were no tears, there was no violent rage. I couldn't. It just...isn't who I am. Right? It isn't who I am. I don't have to feel it, because I can tell myself not to. I have to be practical, because without that the pain seeps in and seeps in and paralyses everything and I'm left shut down and lifeless and please stop, I don't want to remember.
Seifer stood, face a panoply of warring emotions. I closed my eyes, listening to the unsteady sound of his feet vibrating through the floorboards, mirroring the unsteady beat of my heart.
How many? How many? How many?
Then there were four strict thumps. The door opened and slammed straight after. Behind my eyelids, the darkness swam. Fire and terror and not knowing and blood and...
When I forced my eyes open I was breathing harshly, chest shaking with each pull and push of air. Please, I thought uselessly, please I don't want to know this. I don't want to know what this is. Gone, all gone, all gone forever, all gone just like everyone else I ever cared about.
When Seifer stormed back in I don't know what he saw. I couldn't imagine myself, curled and shaking on the ground, stomach roiling over and over and over, tears rushing from my eyes to wax against the polished wood. Truthfully I wasn't even sure which grief it was I was finally succumbing to. Maybe it was all of them. Is that how this worked? Was this what breaking down meant? I had seen others do so before. Men and women past breaking point, left with nothing but bubbling tears and half formed words on fields of battle or in refugee camps we'd been sent to for training or families told of a loved one's passing.
Pathetic, I'd thought at the time. In a time that needed strength, they'd given in to weakness. Pretty sure it's what I still thought, even as Seifer dropped down to his knees beside me. Pathetic.
"Fuck, Squall," he said, voice hoarse, "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
I didn't let him pull me up into the awkward embrace, I just didn't have the energy or the mental capacity to resist. Slumped like a ragdoll in his arms, our chests pressed awkwardly together, I kept my eyes slit open. Enough to see the vague outline of the oddly fashioned room, the kicked over table, the top of Seifer's shoulder. My body wanted so desperately to close my eyes, to let me sleep, to take me away from this hideous loss of control. From this familiar feeling, this nauseating feeling of loss that seemed to roll backwards through the years like a sick poison, as if I'd been feeling it all my life. Take me down, into that dark sleep.
Only I couldn't. I knew what lay there now. Heat and flames and smoke and...
But in the waking world the other pain still bit and clawed and raged. Gone, all gone. And suddenly nowhere was safe, not behind my eyes nor in front of them. And I had no answers, and I had no words or procedures, I had nothing stable beneath my feet, and I had no one to call for backup or new orders or to give me an analysis or damage report. I had nothing, but the strong arms surrounding me, holding me together as my body tried to shake itself apart.
"Say something, will you?" Seifer was asking desperately.
"Thought you...didn't want me to say anything," I mumbled numbly in reply.
"Dammit, Squall. Don't be so literal, you stupid piece of shit," I was shifted closer, tighter. I could feel my hands at Seifer's back, fingers curling into the material on instinct.
"Don't go," I found myself mumbling quietly, "please don't go."
"Where would I go? Where would I go, huh? I'm not going anywhere."
"Don't let go of me."
"I won't."
Then lips, at my neck. Soothing words. My fingers curled tighter, pulled closer. Then those words moved, and the lips with them. Over the flaring pain on my cheek, with muttered curses and apologies. When they found my own, open just to keep breathing, I didn't stop him.
Seifer kissed me with a gentleness I didn't think he was capable of. A constant pressure, lips moving back and forth, pressing against my own while a large hand cupped the abused side of my face. Heat. I didn't remember reciprocating, but suddenly he pulled me closer. Pushed inside with an insistent tongue. I shifted nearer because I knew that the further away I was the more likely I was to fall back to that familiar, numb paralysis.
We were so close now. So close I didn't think there was any more room to dispel between us.
It was then I realised that my eyes were closed, but the memories did not come. Did not batter against the barriers, demanding to rip them down and leave me shaking. No blood or smoke. No pain and screaming. Just warmth and pressure and a reluctant feeling of safety.
Breaking apart was difficult, as if we'd seized together like old pieces of metal, "Why'd you have to be so stupid?" he asked, sounding just as lost as I felt.
"Don't," I breathed, reaching up desperately to pull him close again, "don't speak..."
Another kiss, tight and frantic and filled with that warmth. Then I was picked up, a little stumbling and awkward. I was unsteady on my feet, but Seifer held me firm. We stumbled together to the yellow door. Behind it was dark. Seifer didn't bother with the lights, simply draping me down onto what felt like a bed in an oddly graceful motion.
The door closed.
The darkness settled in, making me blink rapidly. The bed dipped under his weight to my right. My chest rose and fell, quick, quicker. And the nausea was there, and the panic I couldn't let take hold
"Seifer," I choked out.
"Right here," hands in the darkness, fumbling at my neck, then up to my face, then those lips honed in.
Kissing and fumbling in the dark. A quiet yet frenzied sort of intimacy. Nothing I had ever felt before. Enough to keep my mind sharp on the present. A new and powerful heat that swamped out the smoke-screams-terror and the how-many-how-many-how-many?
I thought I could hear sounds, gasping breaths as Seifer broke our connection and began moving about on the bed. When I realised it was me, that those sounds came from my lips, I felt utterly disconnected. As if I were somewhere else, having this all recounted to me by another. I had no frame of reference for this. Of course I knew the practical accounts of sexual activity heightening during situations of high stress and grief. Experiencing it, however, was something different altogether.
"Come here," Seifer was pulling at me, and I went without a fight because I wasn't even sure I wanted to fight anymore.
Then there was a hand against my stomach, up against the skin underneath the soft blue sweater I had awoken in, and I hissed and my shoulders jumped. My hand searched for his wrist and grabbed it tightly while Seifer tried to push down under the waistband of my trousers.
"Just let go, fuck," Seifer sounded tense enough to snap, like a taught branch in a storm, "I'm only trying to help."
"Is that all you want?" I asked, voice blank.
"You don't want to think about it?" harsh, angry, "Neither do I. I don't want to think about it, alright? I wish I didn't have to...to know it ever happened. So let me...let me just help us both out."
Staring into the darkness, I forced myself to relax down. Just not to have to think, for a little while. To let go. When I closed my eyes the darkness stayed the same. The lips returned, groping their way across my face to find the kiss. The hand pushed down, slipping with a bounce of material under my waistband, closer than I'd ever allowed anyone to be, to find my cock.
"Mmm," I said on instinct, a short sound of surprise as Seifer stroked me roughly without standing on ceremony; the bizarre almost dream-like feeling of another touching my skin. Seifer rolled over until he was half pinning me to the bed, hand moving spikes of heat up and down my body. Lips stealing what little breath I could pull in.
"Here," his rough voice said; a hand appeared at my own, pulling it down between us. When Seifer pushed my hand against the open buttons on the front of his damp uniform, I could feel my breathing was erratic. My head was swimming, almost delirious with the surrealism of the moment.
But not thinking. Not thinking. If I could focus on this then I just was not thinking.
So when those lips found mine once more, I opened them to allow the kiss to deepen. When I pushed carefully down, slipping inside to find a rigid heat there already waiting, I hesitated only a few seconds before taking it in hand. So close and hot and mindlessly wonderful. When Seifer groaned out encouragement, I didn't pay attention to the words, just soaked in the feel of his voice. The vibrating feel of our bodies, tense and panting and close, so close, touching and pressing and so close.
When the heat between my legs became too much to bear, I didn't hold back.
"That's it," Seifer was murmuring gently as I came, "yeah that's it."
Then soon a pulsing warmth moved across my palm, and my hand was wet, and I was still close enough to feel Seifer shudder silently against my body, cursing and violent. Then nothing but our breathing in the dark room, twisted together on an unseen bed. Seifer pulled his hand free and I heard him wipe it on something roughly. Then a hand slid along my forearm, pulling my own from inside his clothes.
"Here, just..." Seifer took my hand and wiped it messily against what I guessed was his uniform.
"I'll get it dirty," I said automatically, without thinking.
"It's dirty enough as it is."
Silence. I shivered involuntarily. The darkness set in, as the glow of my confusing orgasm faded, as the feelings and the touches stopped. I thought I could hear Seifer muttering something to himself in tight, angry, horrified words beside me. I lay on my side, dazed and warm, my mind a mess.
"Fucking...fucking shit. What do we do? This wasn't supposed to happen."
Gone. All gone.
"What the fuck did they do this? Hyne. I don't even know anymore. Why would anyone? Fuck."
How many?
"Just...let's just stay here, for a moment. Ok? Just stay here for a moment and get out shit together before we do anything else."
Fire and smoke and blood and screams...
"Seifer?"
"Yeah?"
"Kiss me again."
"What?"
"I won't ask you twice."
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It helps," I admitted with difficulty, as my mind slowly collected itself back together "it just...helps. Alright? So do it. Please."
And it did. It did help. Because when Seifer rolled over and pulled me tight, pressing a warm, hard kiss to my face, then my lips, I didn't have to think about the hundreds dead at Trabia, the hundreds dead at Balamb, the fact that Seifer was a wanted fugitive, the fact that we had perhaps lost friends, perhaps even our commander, the fact that my memories were resurfacing with a hideous intensity, enough to drive me from my mind when everything welled up together like steadily rising floodwaters.
All gone.
It helped.
"Is this it?"
Three hours later, I was standing at the entrance to the village in my own clothes staring at the 'totally amazing thing I found guys, you gotta come see!' that Zell had been raving about.
Three hours later, and no one would have known how close I'd come to meltdown. Except Seifer, of course. Except Seifer, with his warm words and deep touches and soft lips on my throat.
No. It was just to calm our nerves. That was all. Keep us grounded. It had worked, and I was grateful, but I wasn't about to do anything stupid and reckless just because of some mindless fumbling in the dark.
Thankfully Zell seemed his same optimistic self. Enough that it was slightly infectious. He wasn't willing to give up, and happier to believe that things couldn't possibly be as bad as reported until he saw it for himself. So he'd been proactive, finding us a ride while Seifer and I had been coping, and I couldn't help but appreciate his outlook.
It was just unfortunate that the vehicle he'd found was this one.
"Yeah this is it," Zell said, frowning like a child, "what'd you think I'd mean? It's enough to get us across the snow fields, and right now I thought that'd be all we'd need."
"It is," I nodded, "but I really don't think this will do all three of us."
It was a snow buggy, of sorts. A small round pod with two seats on heavy duty treds, a blue painted outer pocked and chipped down to the grey metal beneath, insulated inside by thick black rubber and plastic. All hydraulics and no suspension. Two backup generators strapped to the back, along with room for supplies. A decently thick windshield with heavy duty wipers. It could have been worse, but then it could have been a lot better too.
"You couldn't even fit a Faculty member in there with those big stupid hats on," Seifer commented, unimpressed, "how's this supposed to help exactly?"
"Well it's better than you've done," Zell snapped, "lying about all day, whining like a little kid and assaulting people in the face."
It had been the first thing Zell had said when I saw him half an hour ago. Honestly I'd almost forgotten it, the fury driven blow that had left me reeling and split open, like a spilt bag of rice. Of course Zell had known who was responsible, just as it was likely that everyone always assumed Seifer to be the mindless, violent brute.
It had taken more talking down than I had the energy for to make sure Zell didn't jump the blond right there and then and start another fight.
Of course Seifer hadn't helped any, standing in his barely dry clothes, smeared in rather obvious fluids, quietly calm. They'd both become quite quietly calm, after...
After...
I shook my head and dismissed the memory.
More pressing issues.
Issues like Garden.
Like how many?
So far reports were still inconclusive, other than the fact that we still couldn't contact Balamb Garden but that other nearby towns were confirming a hit. Balamb town was also dark, which had led me to conclude that the missiles must have taken out the radio communications tower on the mountains just to the east as well.
However, we had been able to contact Trabia. Messy with static and a line that dropped more almost more than my patience could bear, but a communication nonetheless.
And now, at the very, shakily least, we had a plan. Get to Trabia, gather reinforcements, and try and get some more information on the attack. Hopefully, it would be one step on the path to determining the target aggressor and forming a resistance.
Still, it didn't help that the buggy only had two seats.
"Zell, we're going to need something bigger," I said practically.
"Well there isn't anything bigger. This is all they have."
To my left, one of the large inhabitants, I was glad I had remembered the Shumi correctly, it seemed to have gone over well, stood silently in his or her robes. The Elder, as they'd been introduced by a smaller one of the tribe who appeared to enjoy sculpture if his workshop had been anything to go by. The village was very organic in design, calm and serene. The little orange felines that scampered about were called 'moombas' it seemed, but the name didn't ring a bell with him. Mostly they kept their distance, shy inquiring glances from black eyes around corners was all I caught.
"It was left here long ago," the Elder said in a low, rumbling tone, "by another visitor."
"Is that the same guy you've got a statue of just over there?" Zell asked, eyes narrowed.
"That is correct," it nodded, "Master Laguna left by other means than how he arrived. You may take this vehicle if you wish. We have no use for it here."
Another side tracked mystery I wasn't willing to get into. The statue of a man that I remembered from a dream. It was a common theme in my life it seemed; images in dreams that crawled their way into real life. Though Zell had recognised him too, as well as the hauntingly familiar song playing from a nearby house.
No time. No time left for this.
"Well, we'll have to do one run, then another," I concluded with a sigh, "Does it have enough fuel?"
"It has half a tank," Zell shrugged.
"Enough to take you as far as Trabia," the Elder nodded, long and slow.
"Yeah, but what're the chances that it won't break down when you get there," Seifer said, kicking the buggy to make it clink and jostle, "or half way. Or that there will be enough fuel at Trabia to refill?"
"Better than walking," I said, staring at it, "and right now we're just wasting more time. Ok. Ok," I closed my eyes and rubbed at my forehead. When I opened them again Seifer was hovering nearby, as if he expected me to keel over any second, "Zell, you know how to repair it if it blows a gasket?"
"I could probably cobble something back together," he agreed, pulling down the flap that covered the engine, down under where their feet would sit inside.
"Alright. Then you and I will go first. That way if anything goes wrong, you can patch it up for the return. Then you will come back for Seifer while I regroup at Trabia, and we will reconvene on your return. Agreed?"
I looked up to two mildly irritated faces.
"If you have any better ideas I'd like to hear them," I said sternly.
"No," Zell agreed, "fine by me."
"And what if there's nothing left at Trabia by the time you get there?" Seifer pointed out, his voice cold.
"Then..." I blinked away the horror of the thought, "then we'll both come back and use this as base camp until we contact the others. They may still be at Galbadia garden."
Another worry. Another anxiety to add to the list. Xu, Selphie, Nida and Rinoa. If we were lucky they were safe at Galbadia garden. And if we were unlucky they were prisoners at Galbadia garden.
"Come on then," I said, swallowing tightly; Zell loaded the food and water supplies the Shumi had gifted us into the back. I stood by Seifer, noting the anxious tick by his mouth, "we'll be back soon," I reassured him, not truly sure why I felt the need to.
"I know," he smirked, not fooling anyone with his bravado, "just...just don't do anything stupid, ok? I know you."
"That's reassuring," I said bluntly, eyebrow raised.
A hand appeared on my shoulder, squeezing tightly. Seifer looked like he wanted to say something more, but simply pulled his hand away when I looked to it.
"Be safe."
"We will," Zell butted in, giving Seifer a dirty look.
"Yeah, yeah," Seifer muttered, "you too punk."
The buggy was tight and cramped, noisy once the engine spluttered into life. As Zell put it into gear and pushed forward on the accelerator lever, I found myself staring out of the mottled windscreen. Seifer kept eye contact until he was out of view and we crawled into the elevator to take us back to the surface.