Chapter 1: Reminiscing
Slowly, I was nursed back to health, which Dr. Kadowaki had said was a miracle considering I had to be brought back three times. She had never used that many Phoenix Downs on one man in such a short period of time, she claimed. It baffled me that I was even functioning after all that blood loss. It was a miracle, Seifer insisted on calling it. No miracle, I remember thinking bitterly, but a curse. I didn't want those memories of what they so cruelly bestowed upon me. I didn't want the recollections of men ravaging me, hurting me. . . I didn't want to dream of her lies, her brutality. But, of course, whatever god is up there believes in torturing me with nightmares of their malicious doings, the "cleansings" as Rinoa so humbly called it. The cleansings were each time she let one of her followers use me, bent me to their will, made me scream and writhe in misery. Where was the Rinoa I had fallen in love with? The woman I had trusted with my life, my soul . . . my heart? She was an illusion and everyone saw it but me.
I haven't cried since my first cleansing. It hurt each time, but I never let them see it, never let them take all I had left, my pride, no matter how small a shred it was. Seifer was right and I now realize the importance of having a dream. He had once explained to me that when Ultimecia had used him, the only thing that kept him living and from giving up was his dream. His dream was to be remembered and he managed to accomplish it, despite the outcome and ridicule and the anguish he had to endure and still does when she plagues his dreams; just like Rinoa plagues mine.
Seifer continues to stay with me, even after the months of being bed-rested and restricted from strenuous activities and movement. Mute. I haven't spoken since he found me. Everyone thinks I've gone into some state of shock, lost in my head even though I continue to acknowledge everything they say. I've just been trying to heal myself . . . mentally and emotionally. I have come to the conclusion that it was all a bad dream . . . well, most of it. Denial, it's the only way I know how to deal with this. How am I supposed to come to terms with the fact that my fiancé used her powers for evil, took my to the Centra islands, allowed her followers to have their way with me, and then finally left me to bleed to death as a sacrifice to a god I didn't even know existed? That's just the thing, I can't. I won't allow myself to believe that the one person I finally opened up to turned out to be some psychotic sorceress who started her own cult that believed that the end was at hand and they must atone for the sins of others by sacrificing the man that saved the world: me. Oh, yeah, that's a great way to maintain my sanity.
"You went off again."
His voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I manage to lift my head to glance at him from under my bangs, which need to be cut, they're too long. I'll make plans to do it myself as soon as I'm able to walk about and perform everyday duties. With a simple nod of my head he smiles in acknowledgement, slowly continuing to peel an apple, which I assume is for me because he knows I hate the skin on them.
These various acts of kindness and concern make me wonder. Seifer and I were never as close as we were before the second Sorceress War, even after he came back to Garden, I still was as friendly to him as I was Irvine, and that wasn't saying much. I contemplated telling him what had happened to me; how during the crucifixion they kept casting Cures on me so I wouldn't die too soon. That was the worst, I think. When the wounds tried to heal around the metal that kept me nailed down it sent excruciating pain through me, causing more black outs than the blood loss did.
When I open my mouth to speak, he stops peeling and looks at me curiously, arching one blond brow, waiting patiently. Seifer has changed so much during the past two years back at Garden. He grew up, basically. The cocky attitude still lingered in his gestures and sometimes his words, but it was never as bad as the jerk-reflex he seemed to have when we were both cadets before the war. The golden hair was a little longer, still slicked back, a few strands often springing free to hang over his forehead. He hated it. I thought it was cute.
Shaking my head, he frowns and goes back to peeling, but soon offers me a small smile, understanding my need to stay quiet. Seifer had once mentioned his fear and hatred of silence. He had said that when Ultimecia took control, she would make him watch everything that went on about him, but would mute everything so that he couldn't hear what she was making him say. He said that there was an exception only once. When I had been interrogated in the G-District prison, she allowed him to hear my screams. He told me that alone broke him, to see and hear me in such agony. I never realized and still have no clue as to how bad she treated him, what horrible things she made him do and watch. In a way, we were both haunted by what we thought had been the right thing; me with Rinoa, him with his dream. At least I knew I wasn't alone.
A/N: Okay . . . wow. Poor Squall, huh? Anyhoo, this is an ongoing fic. I'm not sure if I want to continue, but with the prologue and chapter one up, please tell me if I should keep going. I really like where this is headed. So, please review your comments and tell me what you think! Thankies.