Seifer was propped against the side of a building, enjoying the shade, when he saw a Garden issue car pull up. He watched in idle curiosity as, after a long pause, a door opened and disgorged a fascinating head of silvery hair. It was faintly blue, like polished steel, and the sunlight shimmered off of it in brilliant flashes of purple highlights. A body quickly followed, and turned back to the car. Milky arms and shoulders were well showcased by a form-fitting, sleeveless shirt of a dingy grey that is only achieved by wearing white too long and too often.

His attention was diverted by a number of blonds pouring out of the vehicle. It wasn't until Seifer saw the hint of intricate tattoo showing though a glowing fall of yellow hair that he realized what he was seeing. He looked back at the pretty, silver haired, young man. Sure enough, there were the usual black pants and excessive belts.

Guilt and bitter regret rose in his throat as he watched Rinoa, minus the strange streaks she wore in her hair, lean forward and kiss Squall before leaving him, inexplicable blonds trailing behind.

"That's a new look for you, Squall. I like it." The words left his mouth before he could stop them, so he quickly schooled his features into his practiced smirk.

"Seifer." Squall's voice was flat as he turned his longtime adversary. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, relax." Seifer spread his hands innocently. "I'm not here to cause trouble."

"That's a first."

A surprised laugh burst out. "A joke, Leonhart? From you?"

"No." Squall tried to look darkly menacing, but couldn't quite keep the corner of his mouth from twitching.

Seifer spotted it and smiled. "It's hot as hell out here. Want to grab a drink with me?" When Squall looked hesitant, Seifer added, a hint of despair straining the words, "I… I really need to talk to you."

"…Alright."

By the time they had settled themselves at a small café table, drinks in hand, Seifer had regained his composure. "I do like the new look. What prompted it?"

"Long story."

"Must be good. I love the hair." He batted his eyelashes coquettishly, then laughed at Squall's glare. "Relax," he urged, "we're not here to fight."

"Then why are we here?"

"I've always liked that about you. You're persistent."

"So answer the question."

The table rattled under Seifer's fist. "This isn't easy, Leonhart!"

"Stop wasting my time. Talk, or I'm leaving." Squall made a move to stand. Seifer's hand on his gave him pause. Slate eyes met jade.

"Please, just—" Seifer didn't know what he wanted to say. He just knew he didn't want Squall to leave him. "Just… wait."

Staring impassively into Seifer's proud, pleading eyes, Squall settled back down in his seat. "Since you ask so nicely," he said.

A pained smile crept over the blond. "Thanks," he whispered. He took a large swallow from his drink, not tasting it, then pressed the cold glass to his forehead.

Squall observed his erstwhile rival over the top of his own glass. Seifer seemed different. He wasn't the crazed man who had thrown a terrified Rinoa to Adel, but neither was he the bright, arrogant youth that had marked Squall's face in what they both knew was more than a friendly training match.

Then again, Squall wasn't the same person as the one who had retaliated in hollow, echoing fury.

"She changed us both, didn't she?" Squall remarked. "Ultimecia, I mean."

Seifer froze at the name then nodded glumly. "The bitch."

"What happened?"

Pain glazed over green eyes, dulling them. "I don't want to get into that out here in public." He paused. "I've got a room in the hotel." He saw Squall stiffen. "It's too exposed out here," he explained.

"I have no reason to trust you, Seifer," Squall said, "and every reason not to. You taught me that."

"Afraid for your virtue?" Seifer tried to smirk, but he couldn't make his mouth work.

"No. I think if you were interested in that, you would have done more than electrocute me while I was your prisoner."

Visible guilt washed over Seifer in a harsh wave. "I am sorry for that."

His voice was so raw that Squall jerked in shock and met his eyes in a long look. There was a timeless moment as they spoke without words. Eventually, Squall blinked and said, "Let's go."

They silently walked to the hotel. Seifer opened the door to his room and gestured for Squall to enter ahead of him.

Nervous, Squall did so. Flicking on the light, he inspected to room to assure himself that it wasn't an ambush. There was a large bed, a small table, and a single chair. Nothing more. "Nice," he commented as Seifer followed him in and shut the door. "It looks more comfortable than the triple rooms I generally end up in."

"I've always wondered about those. Three beds in one room just smacks of orgy, don't you think?" Seifer flopped bonelessly into the chair. "Have a seat," he said, waving a hand at the bed.

He raised one suspicious, gleaming eyebrow, but Squall perched on the edge of the bed.

"Loosen up, Squall. You look like a virgin in a whorehouse."

"How would you know?"

Seifer laughed. "So how long have you had a sense of humor?"

"So how long are you going to avoid the subject?" Squall retorted.

"You want to know about my whorehouse experiences? You sick little puppy." Seifer's grin was mocking.

"No," Squall answered, unfazed, "I want to know what happened to you. You obviously weren't possessed, but you weren't yourself, either." He frowned at a thought. "Or were you?"

"No!" Seifer bolted up straight in his chair. "No," he repeated quietly. "I wasn't me. Or if I was, I wasn't entirely sane."

He rose and began pacing. "When I heard that you had been assigned to help Rinoa—just three brand-spanking-new SeeDs—I was angry. I knew Rinoa would have some half-baked, idiotic scheme that would probably get you killed. You're too much of a good little soldier-boy to argue with stupid orders."

He paused, waiting for Squall's protest. When it didn't come, he continued. "I tried to complain to the headmaster, but the officious bitch Xu got in my face. I cussed her out and she had me thrown into detention." He looked into Squall's hard, grey eyes. "I didn't want you getting hurt. I didn't want Rinoa to get hurt. Hell, I didn't even want Zell or that little messenger girl to get hurt! I broke out and went after you. Believe me, Squall, I had the best of intentions."

"I believe you," Squall said, softly, "but why? Why did you care?"

"What kind of cold bastard do you take me for?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

Wincing, Seifer shook his head. "I guess not."

"So then what?" Squall pressed.

"So then I figured that if I could get to the president before you did, you guys would be safe. I got caught up in it all, though. I saw you there, ready to fight me for doing no more than you would have done, and I think I snapped a little. Then, when that bitch showed up…"

"Ultimecia," Squall said, testing for a reaction.

He got one. Seifer shuddered. "Yeah," he muttered. "She seemed so familiar… and when she spoke I could just feel how strong she was, how sure of herself. I felt like I was drowning and she was the only thing that could save me. I could hold onto her, she would save me, and I could be what I had always wanted… at least, that's what it felt like."

Looking at the horror-filled expression on Seifer's face, Squall felt nauseated.

"I—can't—tell you what she did to me, but when she was done, she… she owned me."

It obviously cost Seifer a great deal to admit that. His broad shoulders were slumped in defeat. His voice trembled as he went on. "I feel sick just thinking about it. Her magic and her mind and her body… and knowing whose body it really was… That hurt the most."

"'Body…?'" Squall breathed. "Seifer, what are you telling me?"

Seifer turned away so that he could not meet Squall's eyes. "Dammit, Squall, don't make me say it."

Standing silently, Squall stepped behind the large blond. "I'm sorry," he said, softly, "but I have to be clear on what you mean." He was standing as close to Seifer as he could without actually touching him. "There can't be any room for a misunderstanding, here."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Too bad. Do it anyway." His voice was hard, now.

"Why's it so damn important, anyway?" Seifer remained resolutely turned away.

A hesitant hand touched the blond's arm. Seifer winced, but didn't move away. "You can either tell me now, or you can tell somebody who doesn't give a shit about you later. Your choice." Squall fought to keep his voice cold, uncaring. "There're a lot of people out there who'd be happy to hear every sordid detail. You don't have many friends."

A long, shuddering breath was released. Seifer's voice was thick when he answered. "She raped me, Squall. She fucking raped me. With her magic, and with Matron's body." He spun around, glaring down at Squall from his greater height, tears spilling from his eyes and tracing down his cheeks. "She tore through my mind, made me remember everything, made sure I knew what was going on… made sure it hurt." The last was in a harsh whisper, as were his next words. "I relive it every night, I'm not going through it again during the day." His voice rose again, "Can you imagine finding the closest thing to a mother that you've ever had, then having her chain you down like a rabid dog and… and…" He couldn't finish the thought, let alone the sentence. He turned his anger on the only target available; he spat out, "I'll just bet you're enjoying this, you bastard. A fitting revenge after what I did to you, right?"

"No," Squall said, horrified. "No," he whispered again, and again, and again. He stared at the open agony of his rival, his enemy, his friend, and unthinkingly wrapped his arms around Seifer and held him closely.

Seifer flinched, then, realizing that it wasn't an assault, rested his cheek in Squall's glimmering hair and wept.

Neither knew how long they stood that way, wrapped in each other's arms. Squall held Seifer's strong body up, wondering at—and incensed by—whatever could reduce this pillar of strength and self-assurance to a shivering wreck. Seifer clung to the smaller man like an anchor, relying on the cold exterior to keep him here in this world, away from the nightmares.

After enough pain had leaked out of his eyes and his chest stopped quaking with sobs, Seifer stepped back. He looked down at the girlishly pretty face of one of the world's greatest warriors and sighed. The hair had gone soft, the eyes looked less cold without the dark line of eyebrow to offset the pale, shifting colors, but the mouth was the same as it had always been. Soft, pale pink lips, set in a permanent pout; lips that should have been gentle and inviting, yet were so hard, so cold.

Just like the rest of Squall. He was all soft prettiness, all delicate beauty, until you saw the disdain in his luminous eyes, heard the curt dismissal in his silken voice. Seifer feared the price for his moment of weakness. He feared it even more when Squall took his hand and pulled him to the bed. He steeled himself against pain when Squall reached out a hand to him.

Gently brushing away tears from Seifer's chiseled cheek, Squall spoke. "I was always jealous of you, Seifer. You were stronger and faster than I was, you had friends, you were never afraid…" He swallowed hard and studied Seifer's puzzled face. "You have no idea how much I wanted to be like you. So fearless." He laughed softly. "Now I find out that you're human after all."

"What do you want from me?" Seifer asked suspiciously.

"I want to know that you're okay. I want to know that the Seifer Almasy I spent so many years trying to copy is alive and well, not dead with someone else wearing his shell."

Closing his eyes, Seifer whispered, "I don't know anymore. That bitch took so much away from me… she gave me a cause, but she stole my purpose."

One eye opened. "Huh. Don't I sound poetic?" Scorn practically dripped from his lips.

Squall raised a hand and traced Seifer's mouth with a thumb. "You often do," he murmured.

Grabbing Squall's wrist, Seifer breathed, "What are you doing?"

Reclaiming his hand, Squall shrugged. "I'm still not good with people. It seems like every time someone I care about is upset they want me to touch them." Concern furrowed his eyebrows. "Of course, no one else has had the problem that you do." He pulled back, giving Seifer more space. "I'm sorry."

He tried to make a joke of it, but Seifer's voice came out far more seriously than he intended. "You just wanted to get your hands on me."

Squall merely stared, neither admitting to, nor denying, the accusation.

Seifer pulled himself around and settled back on the bed, hands laced behind his head, flat on his back, flowing grey trench coat tangled up with his legs. Conversationally, he said, "I don't know if I could ever touch another woman after that bitch. I still wake up screaming."

Moving around until he was stretched out alongside Seifer, Squall rolled to his left hip and propped his head up on one hand. He watched the blond carefully.

Seifer lowered his right hand, letting it rest on his stomach, and turned to look at Squall. "I made jokes about defending your virtue. If I had any left, I think I'd be worried about mine."

"I won't hurt you."

"I wish I could believe you."

A beat of silence passed.

"If she was as bad as you say, why did you obey her?" Squall's voice was quiet, edged with curiosity, but not anger.

"She—I was confused. I wasn't myself." His eyes clenched shut at the memories. "She broke me, Squall. She got inside my head and hurt me until I was nothing, then built me back up until I was hers. She was my mother, my lover, my creator, my destroyer… my world. I wanted nothing but to please her, and I hated myself for it." He jumped as warm fingertips brushed his forehead, then relaxed a little and let them try to soothe away his pain. "I was her dog," Seifer said bitterly, "and she trained me well."

"Seifer," Squall said, his hushed voice rich with rare emotions. "Seifer… listen to me." He lifted his hand and moved it down, to hold Seifer's hand where it still lay on his stomach. "You were a victim, the same as the rest of us. She may have broken you, but you've made a good start on fixing yourself."

Squall laughed softly. "I remember when we were told that you had been executed for assaulting the president… everyone was so upset. I laughed." He met Seifer's pained, angry, beautiful green eyes and squeezed the hand he held. "I laughed because I knew the last thing that the proud, strong, brave Seifer Almasy would want was a bunch of people crying over his memory." Squall smiled meaningfully. "I wasn't happy that you were gone—you may have been a pain, but I always liked you—but I refused to tarnish your image with empty platitudes." He leaned down and laid a light kiss on the scar between Seifer's startled eyes. "Stop mourning yourself. You wouldn't want that."

Seifer allowed the words to sink in along with the damp kiss still resting on his forehead. He pulled his left hand out from behind his head and traced a finger over his scar. Then he reached up and traced Squall's paler, mirror-image scar. "You've always been the one to make me better than I am," Seifer said. He sank his raised hand into Squall's glinting, silver hair and pulled the smaller man down. He softly kissed the perfect, pale pink of Squall's mouth, then released him.

"Thanks."

Squall just smiled down at him. "Anything else I should know?"