Reversals Part 14
The Bloodcross Key: Reversals
by Lady Tempest

Part 14:

Squall wandered towards the Training Center. The halls were empty. And quiet, only the sound of his boots thumping in rhythm against the marble floor, and the gurgling of the fountain breaking the silence. He couldn't believe he had been so foolish earlier as to leave behind his gunblade. But when he had lost control... Had almost...

The shame lingered like a ghost brushing his skin, a chill of horror freezing his heart. The last thing Seifer needed was him taking advantage of vulnerabilities, or breaching the bounds of their fragile friendship with confused impulses. How could Seifer forgive him? How could he forgive himself?

And to make matters worse, it had felt good. So good. Wonderful. To feel Seifer against him, his skin, his breath, his warmth.

As he neared the Training Center, a trio of cadets were leaving, laughing, their uniforms in disarray. A strange scent followed them mingled with blood, common enough in itself after a training session. And even though it was rare to find anyone other than him or Seifer training at midnight, he hadn't been training himself lately to notice a change. But still, something about it disturbed him on instinct, for there was no rational reason for it.

They ambled further down the corridor towards the dorms, still laughing and muttering to each other. Squall stopped, staring after them. It may have been his imagination, not that he really had much of one, but he thought he heard one say `knight' before they all burst into more raucous laughter.

Maybe it was paranoia, or obsession, especially considering his state of mind about the only knight he knew. Everything seemed to lead to thoughts of Seifer and his gorgeous, haunting blue eyes, so why not the bantering of three students. Hell, it was midnight, after all, and they probably weren't even talking about his knight. His mind was just overactive. That's all.

As he turned to enter the Training Center, he caught sight of the tallest of the three looking at him over his shoulder, a pleased smirk on his face. Squall paused, his brows furrowing. The boy's grin widened with more self-satisfaction and then the boys were gone, disappearing down the corridor to the dorms.

Squall shook himself. That had been rather strange. The boy seemed vaguely familiar, however everyone at Garden did. Pass people very day, no matter how little he paid attention to them, and they're bound to still make an unconscious impression. However, he felt it was more than that. He was never that good with recalling faces or names unless for a mission. He never cared enough about anyone else to ever bother remembering. What would be the point, since he'd rather be alone? Well, he had...

Brushing aside the distraction, he headed into the almost tropical environment of the Training Center. Lush green grass squishing softly under his boots, muting his footsteps as he stalked to the silver glint of his gunblade near one of the large steel doors. Retrieving the weapon and his gloves a few feet away, he turned.

A flutter of white at the edge of his vision caught his attention as he approached the door. Trash strewn haphazardly in the grass stirred slightly under the circulating air. Damn students. Their lack of respect towards their environment was disappointing at best. It seemed tighter discipline and some shifts of clean-up duty was in order.

With a grunt he crouched down to snatch up the crumpled paper. Thick and slick like photographs. Frowning, he began flattening them out on his thigh. Why would someone just leave pictures laying around in the Training Center? Wouldn't they want to keep them?

As his gloved fingers unraveled the next photo image-side up, his hands stilled, his heart froze, and he had his answer. Seifer.

"No!" He trembled, with rage, anguish, fear, his whole being tearing into as many tiny pieces as his frenzied hands were tearing the wretched photos. Blinking away tears, he pressed loose fists to cover his face, white-gray shreds falling from his hands like defiled snow.

"Seifer," he choked. Seifer. If Seifer knew... if...he must have known. Oh god, what torment his friend must be going through. He had to go. To go...

Squall clambered to his feet and ran. Rage and, more so, pain coursed through him, driving him faster, blood surging, heart pounding, muscles burning. Seifer. Seifer needed someone. Him. He wouldn't let his friend suffer alone. He couldn't.

Each frantic step towards Seifer's room brought an overpowering sense of dread. And each step of distance between him and his friend was one too many. Squall's arms and heart and soul ached to hold him, to comfort him, to embrace away all the pain and nightmares to have ever haunted Seifer's mind. He wouldn't hold back anymore. Seifer needed him. And he needed to show Seifer he cared.

Suddenly, Squall found himself before Seifer's door. Flat gray and unassuming, it mocked him with its normalcy, a bland marker of calm and simplicity. Squall pounded on the door, not caring for the late hour or if anyone heard him. All that mattered was...

"Seifer!" His voice choked on the pain enshrouding him.

Nothing.

"Seifer, it's me. Open the door."

Silence.

"Seifer, please."

Still nothing.

Squall collapsed against the door, hopelessly. Seifer needed him. He could feel it. Feel it like a part of his soul was slowly being ripped from him. But what if he was wrong? What if Seifer was fine, asleep? And after earlier, what right did he have to look at him, no less call Seifer friend? But...

Without a second thought, Squall punched the door code into the panel. The whispered whoosh of the door chilled him as it opened to reveal the room cast in dread silence and darkness, but for the pale light leaking from under the bathroom door and the sound of rushing rain.

As he walked forward, a crinkle interrupted the soft padding of his boots on the tightly woven carpet. He looked down. At his feet were strewn more photographs, the gloss of the paper reflecting the dim light.

"No! Why is this happening?"

Squall turned back to the door, urgency in his steps. More than ever he needed to make sure Seifer was okay. Needed to show him someone cared. He cared.

Raising his hand to knock as he approached the door, the carpet squished under his boots. Glancing down, water seeped from under the door, bleeding the beige carpet a disturbing pink-brown.

With quaking hands and held breath, he forced open the door. Squall froze. Red. Blood. Blood everywhere. The tiled floor was so bathed in blood in was difficult to see the white through the red...

And Seifer...

Seifer lay in the midst of it, pale skin stained red, head resting in peaceful anguish on a blanket of broken glass. Near his outstretched arm was a single word scrawled in blood:

... `Sorry'.

"No!" He stumbled forward, oblivious to the glass carpeting the floor, almost slipping on the blood pink water. He fell to his knees next to Seifer's body, shards of glass stabbing through his leather pants. But he didn't care. No pain could equal the agony in his heart. None of it mattered. None of it! Only...

"Seifer," Squall sobbed. He ran his hand along Seifer's bloodied cheek, streaking red. "Seifer. Oh god, Seifer."

Seifer's skin and lips, although pale and tinged blue, still retained a trace of color. Squall ripped off his gloves and flung them aside, mindless of where. With a trembling hand he touched Seifer again, skin to skin. Cold. So cold.

Squall scrambled to his feet and staggered to the outer room. Stumbling for the communications panel near the door, he frantically keyed in the number for the Infirmary.

Nothing.

No!... Shit! Of course! It was after hours. No one was there. What should he do? He couldn't let Seifer die. He couldn't. And he refused to even begin to acknowledge Seifer was probably already dead.

He pressed the button for Garden-wide broadcast. There was no time to waste finding Kadowaki.

"Kadowaki. Seifer Almasy's room. Now! Emergency!" Squall tried to project as much calm into his voice as he could, but failed miserably.

He ran back to Seifer, once again collapsing to his knees. Drawing Seifer's long body carefully onto his lap, he just held him, stroking Seifer's cheek and his lips and his hair and his throat.

"Seifer, don't die. Please, don't die. Don't leave me. You can't. You can't leave me. I can't be alone anymore. I promise you won't be alone anymore." He buried his face in Seifer's damp, golden hair and sobbed.

"I promise! Please. Seifer, please. You can't die. You can't! You can`t! You're all I have. Don't die!"

Squall placed frantic kisses to the cold skin of Seifer's forehead, temple, his hair; Still caressing him, holding him like he would never let go.

"Don't leave me. Not again. Not again..."

********

"Squall?"

"Squall?"

"Squall?"

A dream. It was all just a dream. Squall chuckled hysterically, a shroud of residual fear and anguish quaking the sound. A dream. A dream, except this one he welcomed the interruption; Desperately clung to it.

"Squall?"

Squall lifted his head from the sweet-metal-scented nest of Seifer's hair, eyes dazed. He blinked. Doctor Kadowaki crouched beside him, her warm hand on his where he held Seifer as if he clutched Seifer's life to him, not letting it escape. Her fingers curled around his and gently pried them from their desperate grasp.

"Squall, I need you to let go," she said softly, yet with the urgent force of a command.

"Seifer..." he whispered, distant.

"Help me, you two. I can't do anything if he won't let him go."

With the crunch of shattered glass against tile, more hands grabbed onto Squall, pulling him away, taking Seifer from him.

"No! I won't leave him!" Squall sobbed, struggling. "Give him back!"

"Squall. Chill man," a quiet voice whispered close to his ear. An uncharacteristically somber voice. Zell? "Doc's trying to help. But you have to let go."

"Zell..."

"Yeah. Now let Seifer go."

"No. Seifer..." The cool, faint heat of Seifer's body against his disappeared, leaving an cold emptiness in its place. A hand stroked through his hair and drew him against a solid warmth. Splashes of wet dripped onto his cheek.

"Squall," a female voice choked, sad and comforting and sisterly. Quistis. Arms wrapped around him, wrapping him in tenderness. He never thought he would be glad for her self-appointed role as big sister. "I'm so sorry."

Sorry? Why was she sorry? Seifer wasn't dead. He wasn't! He couldn't be. "Sorry?"

"I know how you felt about him," she said consolingly, pain softening her voice, as she still stroked his hair.

Felt? Felt? Past tense? Why was she talking about Seifer in past tense! Seifer wasn't dead! He wasn't dead!

"Seifer..."

"Squall, Seifer is..."

No! Don't say it! She better not dare say it!

Almost as if she knew what he had been thinking, she became silent, just holding him, caressing his hair, like Matron used to when he was sick. Voices, from the other room, buzzed distantly, words indistinguishable, only the frantic tones slipping past his foggy awareness.

Seifer...

Seifer...

(End Part 14)