He had settled down, for what seemed to be the night, under a overhang
of rocks, the shade a cool respite from the dry heat. The sky had darkened
to a deep blue-gray, clouds still thick and hiding sun or moon. A family
of small lizards skittered away from him, deposed by Seifer's long body
from the home they had temporarily claimed as their own.
"Hey, be thankful I'm not cooking you for dinner," he smirked after them
with a chuckle.
He took a quick swallow from the water-flask, accustomed enough after the
day's travel to its murky taste to actually feel refreshed. After wiping
his moistened lips with the back of his hand, he recapped the flask and
set it aside. Bunching his trenchcoat into a mock-pillow, and resting his
head wearily upon it, he slept.
The next morning he rose to sunlight slowly creeping into his shelter,
pushing back the cooling shadows. After a quick breakfast of the dried
meat and water, he once again set out for the supposed Esthar Airstation.
Reasonably bandaged and nourished, his trek progressed far more smoothly
than the previous day. Plus, much of the terrain he followed had leveled
to rocky plains, then merely flattened dirt, and then, eventually, sparsely
tufted with dry grasses.
As the sun began dipping toward the dark blue-brown haze to the west, a
low, even rumble fell from the sky. Covering his eyes from the sun's glare,
he looked up. A dark, bird-like shadow streaked to the east across the
pale, blue-gray, trailing a tail of misting white behind it.
"I'll be damned! There probably is an airstation nearby." Seifer's
blond brows lifted in surprise, then he shook his head. "Well, shit. Talk
about your strange coincidences."
With a shrug, he continued onward, using the slowly fading stream of white
as a marker back to the aircraft's likely origin. Luck seemed to be on
his side.
Just as the last sliver of sun disappeared into the horizon, Seifer sighted
a smooth square of uniform gray crossed with thin lines of the same, in
contrast to the rich green surrounding it. Tiny shapes, like boxy pebbles,
clustered on its western edge, a single monolith rising in their midst,
glittering in the fading sunlight.
Seifer grinned in triumph. Whatever and wherever it was, it was man-made.
Man-made meant people. People meant civilization. And Civilization meant
a way home. He resisted the urge to shout for joy, and instead settled
for a quiet, heart-felt laugh.
"Nothing can keep Seifer Almasy down." His smirk was so wide it crinkled
his eyes. "Not a damn thing! Heh, sometimes I`m so amazing, I amaze myself."
A burst of energy in his steps, he strode ahead, like a lord returning
to his castle, trenchcoat billowing behind him, a rushing breeze ruffling
through his tousled, dirt blond hair. Add a white horse, and it would have
been like something from the movies and books he loved so much. Tales of
chivalry, and honor, and knights. Knights slaying dragons, protecting fair
maidens, or as in his romantic dream, a sorceress; Seeing her safe from
the harm of those who wouldn't understand her power and would fear her
for it. And he, more than most, understood being misunderstood.
A twinge of gloom washed over him, dampening his good mood. He was tired
of no one accepting him for the way he was. Tired of working his ass off
to become a SeeD and failing every time. All because his nature resisted
acting like a mindless drone. Resisted acting like Zell; Zell-kiss-ass-tattle-tale-chicken-wuss-Dincht.
Or like Gloom-boy Squall.
But at least Squall had potential. Squall could be roused to dare the daring,
brave the bounds of possibility. Sure, he needed a friendly, little, encouraging
nudge. But Seifer knew just where to nudge. And honestly, was the only
one who knew. That much was obvious. Then again, he was the only one who
bothered to approach Squall on terms Squall understood. On terms they both
understood.
Yet, in all his life only one person truly understood him, the him down
deep he rarely showed. Only one listened to his dreams, his sorrows, and
filled his heart with a love so warm the cold of the world could never
touch him, no matter how often he failed in his dreams. And no matter how
far apart they were, their hearts would always be one.
He smiled, the gloom lifting, chased away by a sweet, undying love.
The sun had fully set by the time he approached the base. Floodlights illuminated
the area in a dome of bright white. Glowing red and blue dotted the runways
like a string of luminous beads.
A large sign spanned the wide opening in the chain fence surrounding the
complex. As Seifer looked up at it, he blinked. 'Esthar Airstation' was
scrawled in neat letters across the brilliant white in slightly sun-faded
red paint.
"Shit! This... this can't be!" Seifer stammered, his eyes twin flecks of
blue in a field of huge white. "It's impossible! Impossible!"
"What's impossible, son?" A deep voice suddenly asked from out of nowhere.
Seifer jumped at the sound, surprised both by it and the fact that it had
surprised him. He had to be slipping, or loosing his mind, or both, to
let an unknown so close without noticing and being at the ready.
Quickly turning to his right, he saw a husky, uniformed man, shorter than
he was, but broader, approach him, a rifle slung over his shoulder.
"Uh, hello," Seifer replied with a nervous grin. Not good. Not good at
all to be so edgy. "I, uh, was just wondering were exactly I am."
"Where!" The guard's thick eyebrows scrunched together, then he pointed
to the sign. "Can't you read, son?"
Seifer took a deep breath, smoothing his hand through his hair. `Do not
get pissed`, `Do not get pissed`, ran through his head like a chant. "Well,
yeah, but... You see..." Fuck it. The guy wasn't going to believe him.
Hell, he was beginning to wonder. Telling him that last Seifer remembered
he was about to kill President Deling and save a lot of people a lot of
misery and then, suddenly, he was in the middle of fucking nowhere, wouldn't
be very helpful.
"...Ah, nevermind. Do you know how I can get to Balamb from here?"
"Balamb?" The guard made an amused snort. "You're a bit far from Balamb,
son."
"So I've been told," Seifer muttered with a wry grin.
The hulking man's head abruptly quirked to the side and he moved closer
to Seifer, studying him. "You know, you look familiar."
"I do?" Seifer took an unconscious step back. Oh wonderful! What if the
guy had seen him on the broadcast from Timber? He could be in deep shit.
Aside from not exactly being in prime condition if worse came to worse,
he didn't want anyone getting hurt unnecessarily; He just wanted to get
home. "Uh, I don't know why. I'm not from around here."
"Hmmm."
"Listen, I `m just looking to get home. If you could give me directions
on how to get to Balamb, that would be great," he said, flashing his most
charming `Almasy smile'. Who could resist? But for some reason it didn't
work. How could it not work? Instead of relaxing, the guard stared at him
more intently, fingers tightening on his rifle.
Recognition sparked the guard's dark eyes, and he frowned. "I know you!
You're Seifer Almasy!"
Or, maybe it had worked? Too well? "Yeah..." Wary, Seifer took another
step back. What did the man think he knew about him? It`s not like he had
that
infamous
of a reputation. Fuzzy though his memory of the day before was, he knew
he hadn`t actually killed Deling. Hadn't even harmed a hair on the bastard's
tyrannical head. But somehow Deling had escaped... And... and ...
Aww, fuck it! He never overly analyzed things in the past, why the hell
start? It would only get him into trouble anyway. "So ...?" Seifer shrugged.
Well, he never claimed diplomacy was his strong point either.
"So? So?" The guard lowered his rifle from his shoulder and aimed it towards
Seifer.
"Woah! Hey now, Happy, that's not necessary." Holding up his only free
hand in a dissuasive gesture, Seifer's other curled discretely around the
hilt of Hyperion at his side. "If I didn't know better, I would be starting
to get nervous. I don`t know what you think I`ve done, but it`s all a misunderstanding."
"There's no misunderstanding, Knight. Now put down your weapon slowly and
no one will get hurt." The guard's intense expression chilled Seifer with
the dire seriousness of the situation he had fallen into.
What the hell? Was everyone he met a complete loon? Okay, the flaky old
guy seemed to be right about the whole Esthar Airstation thing. But this
guy
was totally nuts. Probably disgruntled over how boring his job was and
craved a little excitement. But hell if Seifer Almasy was going to be that
excitement! The guy should take up Triple Triad or something. Anything
that didn't involve bullets and Seifer's flesh would be a nice start. A
damn nice start!
"Listen. All I want is to get home. I don't want any trouble. So, I'll
just be walking away now." Seifer began carefully backing away. "See, I
leave, you don't shoot me, everyone's happy." Maybe that diplomacy stuff
wasn't so difficult afterall.
"Stop right there! I'm placing you under arrest."
"What the hell?" Oh, for fuck's sake! If he hadn't been standing there,
rifle-barrel at his chest, he would have rolled his eyes and thought it
all some idiotic joke. "Hey, I'm sorry your job is so miserable, but no
need to take it out on me." Another backward step, Seifer's eyes were riveted
to guard's shaking hands and the rifle within them.
"I said stop, or I'll shoot."
Enough! Seifer had enough. He was officially pissed. Obviously no amount
of talking was going to get the idea through the lunatic's thick head that
Seifer wasn't a threat and just wanted to be on his way, minding his own
business; Just wanted to get to Garden.
With a whirl of his light-bleached white coat, and a flash of silver, Seifer
rushed the guard. A shot fired. But whether it found its target or not,
his adrenaline and momentum surged him forward, oblivious to all else but
the opponent before him. Ducking to the side, his body remarkably quick
and agile for his tall, muscular frame, Seifer moved behind the guard like
a ghost on the wind. The blunt handle of Seifer's gunblade and a well-placed
blow to the back of the man's head crumpled the guard to his knees.
Without a pause, Seifer snatched the rifle from the guard's limp hands
and ran into the night, splatters of red trailing behind him on the pale
concrete.
(end part 2)
Back to Part 1
On to Part 3