Chapter XV – 1000 Needles

A fanciful thought…

Meets a stab of reality…

All because of one vision.

Seifer awoke slowly, his eyes opening in response to a distant sound.

By the time he was aware of his surroundings, he had already sat up in his bed. His dorm was balmy and a little dark. Seifer looked over at his clock to see 20:54.

I must have dozed off after coming back here. Guess I pushed myself harder than I thought.

What to do now? Go back to sleep? He had already ruined his sleep cycle with his unintentional nap. He slowly took in a deep breath. He tried to get up, but a stream of pins and needles crept up his left leg, evidently still asleep despite the wakefulness of the rest of his limbs. Seifer scowled and plopped himself back onto the bed to wait until his leg decided to obey.

He had hoped that he would keep on dreaming – it had been such a pleasant dream. Quistis was there, and she wasn't admonishing him as was typical of their conversations together. Lately, he had been dreaming about her too often. Those dreams were mostly innocuous, situations that resembled much of his Garden life since his return. The others were not quite so innocent.

Why had he been dreaming about her so much? Maybe because he knew the end was coming. If he passed his exam, he would have no more classes, no more Instructors, no more Quistis, and no more excuses to see her.

His subconscious had been missing her already.

But the other part of him was impatient. He couldn't wait to pass his exam and finally have access to the opportunities to do what he did best: fight. Of course, Seifer knew that not all SeeD missions were filled with violent warfare and mobs of monsters, but being dispatched around the world to do mission work was better than leading a boring, simple life somewhere in Balamb Town (or worse, Timber). Boring and simple were what Seifer hated the most.

Then why do you think about that boring, simple Instructor all the time?

What was it about her that he found so alluring? Quistis's life was full of non-adventures and paperwork, and her personality leaked propriety and decorum wherever she went. Her beauty knew no equal, but the way she undermined everything she was was perhaps her only flaw, the only scratch on the surface of that polished façade. There must be more beneath the shell, if only he could claw his way inside…

And that was probably why he tried to irritate her so much. All this time, he was hoping that maybe something would slip, and she would accidentally give away something that no one else knew, something that only Seifer Almasy would know, because no one goaded her more than he did. There had to be more to her, because perfection was only a myth invented by delusional masochists. Seifer admitted that he was messed up – but who wasn't after a war? Quistis Trepe, that's who. How could someone just be so immaculate? She was in the War, too, but she seemed to have come out of it unscathed in all the right places. But Seifer knew: he knew that she made mistakes like every other human being…just not as much as most people. When she did err, not many knew her well enough to realize it was out of the ordinary.

And, what, you think you know her better than anyone? Seifer thought with a tinge of scorn.

But he was finally beginning to see some semblance of proof that Quistis was more than what she seemed. Every little shot of mockery, every little glance, every little argument showed him a little more of her, pieces that she would lay out before him incidentally, for him to piece together whenever she wasn't around. Seifer knew it was becoming a craving of sorts; he wanted to see the big picture so badly but the pieces never seemed to be dealt to him fast enough. The more he scavenged for those pieces, the more the thrill of the hunt grew in him. Recently, he had found himself to be more and more aggressive with his excavation of those precious relics, but what he found was never sufficient for him to understand the essence of that civilization, the inner workings of Quistis's boring, simple world.

Seifer hoped to Hyne that Quistis had not caught on to what he was feeling. He didn't understand what he was feeling. Of course, by now, he had acknowledged and accepted that there was a certain sort of – a definite sort of – attraction. What man in their right mind (aside from Puberty Boy, apparently) was not attracted to Quistis Trepe on the most fundamental levels? But the way Seifer was always thinking about her and analyzing her every move, he was sure that this madness far exceeded anything any Hyne-damned Trepie ever reached.

What brought this on anyway? Nothing had changed between them in the last few months. Or perhaps things had always been like this, even before the War. The last time he saw her, she was—

She was with Cedric Dolan.

Seifer didn't like to think of himself as the jealous type, but something about that combination upset him. However, he couldn't deny the facts: People like Quistis and Cedric were perfect together. Everything was just perfect. Seifer was sick and tired of perfection, especially since he had just established in his mind that perfection was but an invention. The world isn't perfect, and neither should anything in it be perfect. By that logic, Quistis should be with him, the troubled and tainted. Seifer wouldn't mind that in the least. Besides, that was how things should work in this unfair existence. But that was his world. Everything could be utterly dissimilar in Quistis's worldview. Relations like hers and Dolan's would fit in so tidily.

He wanted so much to turn everything upside down for her sometimes. What would she do if her world came crashing at her feet? He could be there to put it back together with her in a different arrangement, and maybe then she'd understand that he was the one for her after all, because all this time, her world had been a delusion where perfection should not have existed in the first place. Seifer would then have a place in her mind, because the call for perfection would no longer be there to push him aside.

But he could never do that. To destroy something that someone had built up with a lifetime…he wasn't that person anymore. He had done enough of that during his days as a Knight, enough to know that when you take something of irreplaceable value away from someone so completely, not only do you not gain anything in return, but you lose a piece of yourself as well.

This thinking business was a gigantic waste of time. Seifer needed to find something better to do before his thoughts got the better of him. He stared at his dorm door and was reminded of the woman across the hall. He exhaled loudly, finally getting out of bed. The numbing sensation in his leg had long disappeared, but now, at the thought of her, some other feeling stirred in his chest.

How could a boring, simple woman make things so intriguing and complicated?

"Hello, Selphie. This is Quistis again. I left you a message earlier, but I haven't heard back from you yet, so I've called once more. Headmaster Cid is sending us on an urgent mission early tomorrow morning, and I've arranged for our team to meet at the hangar bay at 0630 hours. Please bring Irvine with you and pack accordingly, since we will be away on this mission for at least a few days. I won't be calling Irvine because I know he's never in his dorm. I hope you receive this message in time, as the latest we hope to depart is seven-hundred. The current time is twenty-one-twenty hours. If you have any concerns, please call me in my dorm. I shall be here until tomorrow morning. Thank you."

Quistis hung up. Her voice message was the only way to reach Selphie now. One never knew where the spunky brunette would be at any given time. Quistis had efficiently gathered all of her necessities and spread them out on her small dining table. She was ready to place them into a plain and durable duffel bag when she remembered that she was going to use her shampoo one more time before packing it.

Stepping into the shower stall, Quistis was thankful that she was no longer in the cramped quarters of the SeeD cabins; the showers in Cadet dorms were even smaller, if such a thing was possible. One would think that SeeDs would have the same luxuries that faculty members have, but due to the unfortunate faculty-to-SeeD ratio (approximately 1:10), there was just not enough space to accommodate all SeeDs with such facilities. The water slowly warmed up and Quistis took a deep breath. She went about her usual shower routine, half-lost in her own thoughts.

It may be a while before I feel the comforts of 'home' again. Dr. Odine's lab lodgings are, though technologically advanced, not the most comfortable. I wonder what the mission will entail. Speaking of missions, will Seifer be all right? Have I really done all I can to prepare him for the exam?

The next step was blow-drying her hair, which usually took some time due to her long locks. Her hair was a little wavy and dark when wet. Quistis stared into the bathroom mirror, looking in but not really seeing herself. Her bathrobe was white and fluffy, just the way she liked it. Quistis turned on the dryer and listened to the soothing whir of the appliance while her arms weaved a comb through a flaxen field. She thought she heard a rap on her door. She was forced to stop her task to listen.

Nothing. Must have been her imagination.

Quistis was about to start again when another knock proved her wrong.

Ahh…it must be Selphie. Good, if I can talk with her in person…

She secured the dryer onto its rightful place on the bathroom wall and went to answer the knocker. The moment the door slid open, Quistis felt like running back to the bathroom.

"Well, Instructor," a deep voice spoke suggestively. "Isn't this a treat."

Never mind the fact that she was only half-decent with only a robe between her and the public sphere, but seeing that it was Seifer at the door did not make the situation any better. Had she checked to confirm that the guest was not Selphie, she might have thought twice about opening the door. She only had herself to blame.

Quistis crossed her arms in front of her chest and tried her best to ignore his leer. "How can I help you, Seifer?"

"Oh, you know." He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Seifer, I am not going to stand here all night just so you can make all sorts of inappropriate passes at me." What is going on with him tonight? He's not usually this forward.

Little did Quistis know that her bathrobe-clad figure and damp tresses were wreaking havoc on Seifer's already-thin line of reasoning. Drops of water descended from her hair and rolled pass her collarbone, down into the unknown abyss of the robe. He had been expecting the uptight SeeD uniform, not something straight out of a wet dream. The only way for Seifer to hide his (hopefully unapparent) attraction was to be blatantly bold. He hoped that by being more crude and flirtatious, Quistis would only think that it was routine teasing. Besides, if he just spoke his mind, maybe it will keep his body from doing anything brash.

Not that I don't want to do HER. Dammit, I shouldn't have come…

"No need to stand, Instructor. Why don't you take a seat?" And maybe cross your legs while you're at it, since that bathrobe is so short—

"Thank you, Seifer, for offering me a seat in my dorm," she emphasized the possessive to remind him of where he was.

"You're very welcome." He gave her a charismatic grin that would have brought her to her knees if she weren't already so self-conscious of her state of undress. She noticed that he lost no time in sitting down on one of her armchairs and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He continued to stare at her.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"You."

His direct answer brought a rush of heat to her face. She turned around in a flash, only to face the tabletop full of her personal belongings waiting to be packed into the duffel bag. Among the items were her—

"I don't think I can go without mentioning your unmentionables, Trepe." Quistis couldn't see him, but she could definitely feel the smirk widening on his face.

"Seifer, I was obviously not expecting company." She half-turned, and Seifer could see only her profile. "Did you come here for an actual purpose?"

Seifer, at long last, sat back in the chair. It was only when Quistis felt sufficiently relaxed to turn all the way to face Seifer again that she finally got a good look at him. He had shed his familiar coat as well as the vest, leaving behind a tempting vision in a black wife-beater and black combat pants. His hair was swept back with a few rebellious strands escaping from his distinguished hairline, like fishing rods dangling at the edge of a golden pier, baiting her attention. Quistis felt that blushing sensation spread throughout the rest of her body, and suddenly her bathrobe felt all too warm.

"Hmm," she contemplated aloud in an attempt to appear composed. She had forgotten her question.

"What?" Seifer was caught off-guard by her abrupt awareness of his presence.

"Nothing. It's just that—" she cleared her throat and swallowed hard, "your coat is usually on. I've always wondered what you wore underneath, that's all."

"Don't you mean you've always wondered what was underneath what I wore, Instructor?" he rephrased for her.

His presumptuous response snapped her out of her reverie as she disregarded his correction. She had no time for this nonsense. To calm her nerves, Quistis started loading her belongings into the bag.

"Going somewhere?" Seifer inquired casually.

"Yes, I'm going on a mission tomorrow."

He leaned forward suddenly and almost slapped one of his palms on an armrest. "Where?"

"Esthar. We've been requested by Dr. Odine." She went into the bathroom to collect her shampoo, disappearing from Seifer's view. He could hear her rustling around.

"How long will you be gone?"

Her voice sounded like a chime, bouncing off the bathroom tiles. "A few days."

Seifer was not amused. By this time, he had stood up from the armchair and walked closer to the bathroom. Quistis reappeared and carefully tucked the bottle of shampoo into the bag.

"What about my field exam?" He tried to make eye contact but to no avail. "Just two days ago, you told me that you were going to be the SeeD escort for the mission." Seifer couldn't help but feel betrayed.

"Clearly, Seifer, the circumstances have changed. Missions take priority over exams."

This change did not bode well for Seifer, he knew. Who was going to take her place? With his luck, it would be someone who hates him. Maybe Zell. Maybe even Squall. Hyne forbid, maybe Instructor Aki – goodness knows he hadn't gone easy on Talman. What a grand payback that would be. Either way, Seifer could see his future going down the drain.

Quistis stopped her packing when everything dawned on her. She spun around slowly to meet his gaze and spoke carefully. "Seifer, is that why you're here? Are you nervous about your field exam?"

Seifer didn't answer at first. He could only stare back at the one person who could ever see through him so easily. Finally, his low chuckle pierced the silence. "Why would I be nervous, Instructor? I've already done this three times."

"That's precisely the problem, Seifer."

His expression grew tense. "Look, Trepe," he closed the distance between them a little more. "I'm not doubting my own ability. It's other people I don't trust."

Quistis had full confidence in his abilities. However… "If you don't trust your team, how will you ever work together on a mission? This is exactly the sort of attitude that can get you killed."

"I'm sure this is not news to you, Instructor, but I'm not particularly afraid of dying."

Quistis was irritated by his disregard for his personal safety. How could he think that? How could someone just be fine with dying? Her exasperation, she knew, originated from her own fear of death. Quistis preferred predictability, and death meant unpredictability; death itself was unpredictability. There is no warning, no way to discern what happens after. And how did her mind get on such a macabre subject? Oh, yes. Seifer: the walking pillar of capriciousness. Every time he comes near, my own thoughts become unpredictable. Quistis sometimes envied the contagious nature of his personality.

But most of all, she couldn't believe how much the thought of Seifer's death was affecting her.

Quistis could do nothing but throw her hands up in defeat, and her voice tried to hide disappointment and anger. "Well, I suppose there's nothing I can say, Seifer. Do things your own way, as you've always done. There's nothing more I could possibly do for you now. But for Hyne's sake, please try to follow orders—"

"What do you mean, 'please'?" He scoffed loudly. "You make it sound like I'd be doing you a favor."

She was upset now, very much so. The thought of Seifer charging into a dangerous situation without any consideration for his own wellbeing scared the hell out of her. "Because you can't seem to do it for yourself, so you may as well do it for me!"

For her…?

"Why?" He paused before continuing. "Because I'm the single blemish on your 'perfect' record of 'perfect' students? Don't base your self-worth on the performance of others, Instructor."

Quistis took a step backward, away from him. "You know what, Seifer? I'm not even your Instructor anymore, as of our last class this term. So why should I care?"

Why do I even care? For someone like him…someone who doesn't even care about anyone else…

Seifer looked her in the eye with a concentrated gaze that made her suppress a shiver. She stared back.

That's right, she's not your Instructor anymore.

But a part of him still wanted her to care, still wanted someone to care. Maybe that was the reason why he liked having her as his Instructor: Her role practically forced her to care for her students – for him. Had he been hoping all this time that she would conflate her feelings for him as an Instructor with any other possible attraction? He wanted to know, about how she really felt.

"Why do you even care in the first place?" he questioned.

"Because I am—was your Instructor."

Her answer wasn't good enough for him. "Yeah, that's a load of Blobra sh—"

"Seifer," she scolded.

"Look, you just said that you aren't my Instructor anymore, and if the only reason you cared was because you were my Instructor, then you obviously never really actually cared."

"Seifer, that's not how it is."

"Then tell me how it is." He stepped closer again.

"What does it matter whether I care or not?"

"I don't know!" he almost shouted.

His voice startled the two of them. There was silence as Quistis tried to understand the conversation.

"Seifer…" she spoke softly. He turned his head away to stare at a corner of her floor. "If you didn't think I cared, then you wouldn't have come looking for me tonight."

"I'm not here because of that stupid exam."

"Then what are you doing?"

He couldn't tell her. He couldn't possibly tell her, because she wouldn't possibly understand. But Seifer Almasy doesn't lie. Lying was the armor of cowards, and sooner or later, the shield was bound to break. No, no lies. He needed a deflection.

"How'd you know I was hungry?" he asked, hoping that was enough to derail her train of thought, which must have been going a mile a minute trying to comprehend what was happening.

Quistis furrowed her eyebrows together for a split second. "What do you mean?" From the look in her eyes, Seifer could see that he had succeeded. His confidence resurfaced.

"I ran into Dolan earlier today and he gave me a sandwich. Courtesy of my favorite Instructor, apparently."

Quistis never got used to (or tired of) hearing him call her his favorite, whether or not he was doing it to mock her. She bit her lip to hold back a blush. "Yes, well…he and I were in the cafeteria, and I saw you – or rather, your head – and you left without any food. I thought you were probably hungry, or else you wouldn't have gone to the cafeteria in the first place. I assumed that you didn't want to wait in line for anything, so I waited until after the lunch rush to buy something for you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why not give it to me yourself? How did you even know Dolan would run into me?"

"I had some things to take care of for the mission and so I gave it to him, in case he saw you. Knowing him, he probably would have searched all over for you until he could place it safely in your hands. I trusted that it would get to you unharmed."

Seifer mumbled something under his breath.

"Pardon me?" she tilted her head toward him.

"Thank you," he said, a smidgen louder this time.

A small chuckle burst from her lips. This is rare… Verbal gratitude from the Great Seifer Almasy. Before he could say anything, she added, "Have you had dinner?"

"Yeah, I went to the deli at the Balamb Town train station." The tension from before had dissipated, and they both felt more comfortable in the other's company. "Their sandwiches are much better."

Quistis sighed with a smile and continued packing. "What are you, some sort of sandwich connoisseur?"

Seifer took the opportunity to watch her as she went about her business with her back turned to him. His eyes skimmed over her bare legs. "No, Garden grub just really sucks."

"It's not so bad. The kitchen staff serves regulated food. How else will we get our essential nutrients?"

"Nutrients, my ass," he jeered. Quistis turned to give him a look. He knew how much she disliked crude language. "What? They probably inject a bunch of weird stuff to tamper with everything except the hot dogs. Why do you think those sell out so fast? For Hyne's sake, Garden would make more money selling hot dogs than grooming mercenaries. Cid's such a dumbass sometimes."

"Well, that 'dumbass' readmitted you, so I wouldn't be so quick to complain," she pointed out.

"Still doesn't excuse the hot dogs. Completely different things."

"Different things, same person." Quistis zipped up her duffel bag, finally finished with the chore.

"Come on, all he had to do was call a meeting."

Quistis was a little vexed by his comment. Why must he undermine everything Garden does? "Why can't you just accept help like a normal person?"

He almost laughed at her, because she didn't see the irony of her words. "My dear Instructor, 'normal' for you and me went out the window the second we stepped foot in that orphanage."

And for the life of them, they never understood why all of their conversations always took such sudden turns. One minute, they would be bickering like old friends, and the next, they would drown again in their fate, the liberi fatali.

She gave up. "Fine. Believe what you want." She strode over to the end table next to her bed and tried to set the alarm, her annoyance forgotten. "Hmm."

"What's wrong, Instructor?"

"The alarm function on my clock seems to be out of order. It's just as well, this thing is ancient." She was about to unplug the machine from the wall when she found that the clock itself was bolted to the end table. Quistis tried twice to shake the object lose but it was futile. Seifer snickered at her efforts.

"If Garden's good at one thing, and one thing only," Seifer stated, "it's theft prevention. Trust me, it's impossible to rearrange Garden property without damaging it in the process. Everything is attached to everything else."

"Why do I get the feeling that you speak from experience?"

"You're obviously a woman with good instincts," he said condescendingly. She shot him another look. Quistis tried to lift the clock again, and even tried to lift the end table. She raised her eyebrows when she discovered that that too was bolted to the floor. "It doesn't matter, Trepe. I bet you'd wake up right on time."

"Of course, I usually do," she mused. Seifer rolled his eyes at the predictability of her habits. "But since this is a very important mission, I didn't want to take any chances."

"You're welcome to use mine if you want," Seifer offered as he watched her give up on moving the clock.

"Thank you, Seifer, but did you forget what I have been trying to do for the last few minutes? Your alarm would be just as immobile as mine. The only way I would be able to use yours is if I slept—" She understood now, what he was trying to do. She crossed her arms but found that she couldn't tear her eyes away from the playful twinkle in his. "No, Seifer, I am not sleeping in your dorm. I have enough trouble getting used to other beds when I'm away on missions. I sleep best in familiar lodgings."

"That's fair," he said calmly. "I guess if you were in my room there wouldn't be much sleeping going on." He winked at her and gave her his most charming smile, knowing that she must be ready to smack him in the face any moment now. However, what he received in return was color in her cheeks and the satisfaction of seeing her try to hide her embarrassment.

Of course he had known that she'd refuse. It was a form of self-torture, really. Him coming here like this, with her dressed like that, and with so little left that was holding on to his self-control. He had to carry on talking to keep himself in check. "Do you want me to stay?" he asked politely, out of character.

"Stay?"

"Yeah. Here, in your dorm. I can stay up all night if you want. I promise to wake you on time."

"Hmm…" She considered the idea seriously, but shook her head. "I can't ask you to do that, Seifer. It's all too much."

"You're not asking, I'm offering." He rested his side against the wall opposite her bed. "Besides, that way, I can legitimately say that I spent a night in your room. The Trepies will pay hundreds for the scandalous details and—"

"Is that what this is? A chance for you to make a small profit?" She was somewhat amused by his opportunistic nature.

"The profits won't be small. These are Trepies we're talking about."

Quistis did not dignify the reality with a response. She sighed deeply and sat on her bed, her left hand idly smoothing out the creases on the sheets. She leaned forward a little to stare at the floor, unsure of what to do about Seifer's company.

An odd but unperturbed silence filled the room. Seifer adjusted his position on the wall to face her, and regarded her from where he stood. Her hair was not yet completely dry, with small curves here and there that winded themselves down the length of her tresses, making him almost forget how straight and strict her hair usually was. He followed one of the tangled strands to a lapel on her bathrobe, only to catch a glimpse of a swell of flesh. Seifer swallowed hard as he felt his mouth going dry.

Holy Hyne.

He knew he should look away for her sake, but Seifer was never much of a gentleman. His mind went blank, save for the image he had memorized in a second's time.

Within her time of moving about the room, Quistis's robe had slowly loosened itself as bathrobes had a tendency to do when tied limply. Did she know that her robe gaped open like that when she sat down and leaned forward?

Just a hint of what lay beneath had him frozen in his place while his racing heart blazed a trail through his body. He drank in the view, trying to conceal his interest. He saw so much, yet so little. Quistis had always been a tantalizing picture, drawing him closer and closer until he had his nose up against the painting like an ignorant fool that didn't know the first thing about art or beauty. His lips itched to reach under the rest of the robe to touch her, and if she hated him forever afterwards, it would have been worth it. But if she doesn't…

"…fer, are you all right? …Seifer?"

He barely heard her voice in the midst of his romantic dream.

Quistis continued after he shifted in response. "What's the matter? You seem preoccupied."

"What can I say, Trepe," he spoke as a smile tugged at a corner of his lips. Seifer was finding it increasingly difficult to stay in her room without doing something he might regret. "You drive me to distraction." An understatement. He looked her in the eye, only the slightest bit guilty, like a boy caught with one hand in the cookie jar and the other hand holding a cookie already half-eaten.

"Then perhaps I never should have been your Instructor," she said, rising from her place on the bed to walk back into the living area. "Maybe you would have paid more attention to the lectures."

"You misunderstood me, my darling Instructor." Seifer pushed his body away from the wall and swiftly caught her wrist before she could saunter too far. Quistis visibly shivered from his touch and, encouraged, Seifer turned her around to face him again. He looked into her eyes, gifting her attention with a small smirk. "There's a big difference between being distracted from someone" – he dared to touch her hair to finally confirm its texture – "and being distracted by someone." Still damp, her hair clung to his hand the way an invisible hand seemed to grip his quickening heart.

Quistis inhaled and exhaled slowly, and on the latter act, her shoulders slackened just enough for the loose robe to begin slipping off her shoulder. Her body temperature rose from feeling something rather foreign to her usual palette of emotions, and her hand hastened to bring the robe back to her form. Seifer's hand seemed to tremble against her wrist…or was it her own wrist that was trembling?

She was stammering, now. "I—Seifer, I'll be fine. Don't worry about the alarm, it's—"

"Why don't I come tomorrow morning?"

Her mind was too frazzled to understand how he could speak so rationally when his breathing had been so irregular mere seconds ago. "What do you mean?"

"You stay here, where everything is what you like it to be." His tone appeared distant. He released her from his grasp and made to leave. She felt cold again. "I'll sleep in my own room but I'll turn on my alarm. I'll knock loudly on your door tomorrow, and if that doesn't wake you up, then you're on your own."

"I see. That's an excellent idea, Seifer," she praised. "Please give me the wake-up call at five-thirty."

"Five-thirty?" That part of the day was very early for him.

"You don't have to do this."

He turned back to look at her with his hand on the wall, ready to open the door. She stood before him with one hand still clutching both lapels of her robe, closing him off to the vision beneath.

0530 hours suddenly felt like an eternity away.

"No, it's fine. See you later, Trepe."

"Goodnight, Seifer." She sounded a little sad, but he chalked it up to his imagination.

He pushed the button to open the door and made a prompt exit. When the door closed behind him, he planted an elbow and forearm against the wall, and soon, his forehead joined them. Seifer found himself shuddering, tried to make sense of the warm chills spreading through his body, and strove to steady his breath and collect his thoughts.

That was torture.

He scoffed to no one in particular as a weary smile crossed his face.

That was paradise.