A/N: This is a really introspective chapter...not very exciting. But, it will answer a question I'm sure you all have. Also, it will answer it in a way you all may have guessed from how completely sappy I am.
Chapter 16: Deepest Secrets
Seifer sat on the edge of Quistis' bed, his stomach doing barrel rolls. His entire life had shifted and abruptly changed course in a matter of seconds. Never had he considered things that were currently at the top of his mind. Of course, he'd never anticipated that a woman like Quistis Trepe would say to him what she had.
He could tell that she didn't remember saying it. She'd been delirious at the time, and it had come in a long rant concerning her life and those she knew. He couldn't remember what she'd said before hand. Her voice had kept his pace going as he'd trudged with her out of the mountains. But, when those few precious little words were uttered, he'd snapped to attention.
Still, it was difficult to believe that she'd said it.
"Mmm...these are good," she nodded lightly, shoving a forkful of fluffy pancakes into her mouth. He watched her fingers grasping the fork as it went down to the plate and came back up to her mouth again.
"Glad you like them," he shrugged, not really paying attention to what she was saying.
"The orange juice is excellent, too," she grinned. "Tastes fresh squeezed. Of course, just about anything would taste great after living on jerky for the past few days!"
He watched the movement of her lips and tongue as she spoke, mesmerized. He'd done something for her he'd never imagined he would do. Truth of the matter was, Seifer wasn't at all sure who exactly he was any longer. The years had changed him, but not so much as that one night.
Morning had come, the snow was still blowing wildly in the wind, but it had stopped its decent from the sky. Quistis had continued to mumble the rhyme he'd made up, but over the night he'd ceased listening to the words. As far as he could tell, she'd recited great novels and he would have never known. Still, the sound of her voice had kept him anchored to reality through the ordeal, and as the day slowly began to warm, he stretched.
Quistis' hand was still resting against his stomach when he went to get up, and her other hand was laying against his face, one of her fingers still slightly in his mouth. In those first few minutes, he found it hard to believe what he'd done. His chance to be free had presented itself, and he'd pushed it aside to huddle with Quistis Trepe. Standing up, he'd left her laying there. She'd huddled pathetically down into her coat as soon as the heat from his body had left her.
He'd even gone as far as to pack up his things and walk away.
He'd walked...stumbling, faltering...but he wasn't going back with her. It just wasn't going to happen.
Seifer watched her tilt a glass of orange juice to her lips, a low smile playing across his features. He hadn't been able to leave her, and as guilt violently assailed him he found himself turning back to get her. He couldn't leave her there to die, he doubted he ever would have been able to.
Still, his reasons only blossomed to their current state as she began to speak to him. Her words were garbled, an for the most part it was difficult to understand her over the roar of the wind.
As the weather had settled, she had as well.
"I miss it," she'd told him. "Those old times when it was just us...you, me, Squall, Zell, Selphie...Irvine...all of us just little kids back at that orphanage."
The simple fact that she was speaking of him, albeit somewhat indirectly, had piqued his interest and he'd listened to her, timing his steps with the natural pace of her speech.
"Things were easy then," she'd sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Just little kids, not a care in the world."
She let loose a long sigh at that point, going into a long rant about something Seifer didn't understand. He tuned her out, paying closer attention to the crunch of his steps in the snow.
Presently, he reached for her discarded fork to finish off what she hadn't eaten of her breakfast. Quistis had since cuddled back down into the covers during his musings. Her breathing was beginning to even out, and as he chewed he watched the even rise and fall of her chest.
Unable to resist, spread himself out on the bed beside her, leaning his back against the headboard as he continued to eat. The pancakes really were some of the best he'd ever had. Not as good as the ones Edea had made when they were little, but they were up there. Just enough syrup and butter, but not too much. They were still hot, steamy inside, and deliciously fluffy. His mouth was watering as he ate, and he wished he'd ordered more. Quistis' glass of orange juice was roughly half full, and without a thought he reached over to pick it up and downed the rest of it.
There was something singularly homey about orange juice and pancakes in the morning.
"Seifer?" she opened her eyes a little, looking up at him.
"What?"
There was a pause, and she sighed.
"Nothing. Never mind."
He wondered if she was starting to remember. Part of him hoped that she would, and another was praying that she wouldn't. In a way, he didn't want her to feel obligated because of something that she's said while certainly not in her right mind. It was the sort of thing a guy liked to hear knowing the lady meant what she was saying.
Seifer had never been particularly talented at figuring out what exactly Quistis was thinking. They were always at odds, and he was never sure exactly how she'd felt about him. When he was her student, he'd gotten the very clear feeling that she thought he was a royal pain in the ass. He couldn't really blame her for that, he had been. But, judging from a few meetings he'd had with Headmaster Cid, she'd had other thoughts about him as well. Gifted, but troubled was the comment he heard most often.
"Tired?" he asked, looking down at her.
"Mmm..."
"I'll wake you up to eat and drink something in a few hours," he told her.
"Thanks," she grinned up at him for a rare, precious moment and then turned her head to fall back into sleep. She'd rolled onto her side, and her back was pressed up against the side of his leg. He wasn't sure if it was a newfound comfort around him because of what they had been through together or if it was simply because she wasn't feeling well and didn't have the energy to tell him to scram.
He'd been sleeping in the chair, watching over her the doctor had told him too. When he wasn't constantly with Quistis, he'd taken the time to make a few friends over the time he'd been stuck in the little town. The doctor himself was incredibly hard to dislike. Not even Seifer could find something distasteful about the cheery man. Perhaps he reminded him a bit too much of Selphie (the two would make an excellent couple if she ever decided to break up with the cowboy). But, other than that, he was already a good friend.
The first night Seifer had stumbled into town, he'd gotten himself checked out as well and relayed the story to the other man -- leaving out, of course, the part about being a criminal. As far as the doctor knew (Adam, Seifer later learned, was his name) Quistis and Seifer were a happy little couple who'd been caught in a bad storm while hiking through the pass. Seifer never bothered to correct the assumption.
He and Adam had spent a fair amount of time together before Quistis came around. They'd sat in the hotel lobby and had drinks together, musing over everything from their childhoods to politics. Seifer was genuinely surprised at how easy it was for him to talk to Adam, and a part of him cherished the sudden friendship he'd developed and was going to soon walk away from.
But, that was the story of his life. Everything he loved was eventually taken away. His family, his brothers and sisters from the orphanage, his mind, even his future had been robbed from him early on in life. The way he figured, he didn't have a whole lot to look forward to, and hoping or desiring anything was just going to lead him into further trouble. His dreams always worked against him.
Setting the dishes from breakfast aside, he eased down to lay beside Quistis on the bed. She was out of it, she wouldn't mind. Besides that, he'd gotten little sleep while waiting for her to come to again. For a long while he'd worried that she wasn't going to come back. He worried that maybe he hadn't done enough to save her, that he would have only just found her to have her snatched away like everything else in the world he'd ever tried to hold on to. The simple fact that his feelings toward her were changing probably put her in destiny's harsh and winding path. Without hesitation, she would be used as a pawn, removed to further torture him.
"Hey, Seifer?" Quistis suddenly rolled over next to him.
"What?" How many times now had she said that only to change her mind? He had things he needed to think about, and he really didn't appreciate her interrupting his thoughts, even if they were focused upon her.
"Why did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Give up the perfect opportunity to run," she clarified.
"I don't run," he shrugged. "I'm not a coward."
"I didn't say that you were," she pointed out.
He didn't say anymore in response to her question, and he didn't honestly think that she expected him to. Really, he didn't have the answer anyway. Why hadn't he taken his chance to get out of the situation all together? He'd tried to, but she didn't remember that. He'd tried so hard to walk away, but he couldn't.
Quistis shrugged, her eyes drifting closed again. Seifer was perfectly happy to be left to his thoughts.
The circled like a broken record, always coming back to the same point over and over again.
Either Quistis had been off in insane ramblings, or she'd inadvertently divulged a deep secret. Still, he knew her words would haunt him until he died. Chances were, they would never be spoken to him again. He certainly didn't expect them to be anyway.
He closed his eyes, traveling back to the moment in his mind.
They'd been walking for a few hours, and the sun was coming up high in the sky above them. It looked small and distant, the light from it seemingly devoid of heat. Even as it pounded against Quistis' back, she'd been shivering against him. Her arms were slung around his neck, her face buried against the side of his hood.
"Mmm...this is nice," she'd murmured.
He'd ignored her, moving onward.
The wind blew up at them, catching the underside of Seifer's coat and sending a cold chill through his entire body. Nothing would be so wonderful as getting out of Trabia. He hated the snow, hated the cold, and he hated being forced to live his life in it simply because the backcountry was the only place in the world where he wasn't immediately recognized.
"You're sweet....deep down," Quistis sighed.
He'd smiled a little to himself at that. Sweet was not an adjective often used to describe him.
However, her next words were what had tossed him into a complete tailspin.
"I do...I think I really do..." she rolled her head slightly to one side. "I love you, Seifer."
Seifer choked on the very air he was breathing, the world tilting and turning unnaturally underneath him. Had she really just said that? Was she in her right mind? People really only lost it completely when they got feverish, right? Quistis was just hypothermic...maybe she was just at the edge of sleep and not realizing what she was saying. Maybe she was letting her deepest, darkest secrets bleed through into her consciousness.
This secret, if it was one, was a doosy.
He rolled over in bed to look at her, remembering how lightheaded hearing her say those simple words had made him as all the blood rushed away from his head. It had shocked him so much that instinctively his body had prepared to fight or flee. She'd brought up raw, primal emotions in him. And, she'd forever changed his life because of it.
Had she meant it?
Did it matter?
Confused, he looked at her sleeping form. She looked peaceful, serene. He had nothing to offer her. It wasn't fair of him to even for a moment consider using what she'd said while not in a proper frame of mind against her.
Did her love her? Could he possibly love anyone? Seifer didn't know what love was.
He was going back with her, but not because of romance. He was tired of running, tired of wondering. And maybe, just maybe, if things went well they could get together in some way or another. They would make amends, he could move on with his life.
All the same, her voice would stick with him as being sincere. And it would get him through the long nights to come, allowing him the slight comfort of believing someone out there could see him as Seifer Almasy and genuinely liked what they saw.
