"It is almost always the vanquished who are put on trial for war crimes, almost never the victors." ~ Paul Viminitz

Mad Season

I feel stupid - but I think I been catchin' on
I feel ugly - but I know I still turn you on
you seem colder now, torn apart, angry, turned around
will that whole mad season knock you down

Now I'm cryin' - isn't that what you want
I'm tryin' to live my life on my own
but I won't
at times - I do believe I am strong
so someone tell me why, why, why
do I feel stupid
and I came undone
(Matchbox Twenty)

 Negotiations in Timber were not going well. Galbadia wasn't budging an inch. The defeated state was determined to hang on to the last shred of its empire to the bitter end, if it came to that. The SeeDs stationed at the international conference were beginning to think it just might.

Esthar was impatient but equally stubborn. The formerly isolated state was now fully prepared to take over from where Galbadia left off, as the powerhouse of the global community. A type of Pax Etharia, if you will. And it was resolved to begin with the liberation of Timber. No matter how long it may take, no matter what force had to be used. It was clear deliberations would not end in the small southern region.

 However, the atmosphere in Timber had lightened little since the war. Tensions had increased further due to the peace talks and the population was restive. A dangerous phenomenon in an already radical city. Citizens of the occupied region would not wait for long. The number of anti-government factions had doubled over the past five months and mass propaganda was circling throughout the public despite attempts at appeasement. They wanted change now. Galbadia was weak; the military regime faltering .The time had come to take back their rights of self-determination. Everyone knew revolution was coming. It was only a case of when and how.

Careful to keep his strides swift and assertive the man dressed in the Galbadian uniform approached the Timber Hotel. Security was rigid around the city, all gates heavily guarded due to the presence of international officials. With the chaos that was global politics slip-ups could not be afforded. The hotel was even more heavily barricaded. Since tourism had been shut down only governmental executives and members of the military were allowed free access.

He saluted crisply to the men garrisoning the double glass doors before making his way into the lobby, helmet firmly in place. He did not bother to glance at any of the soldiers, political aides, or reporters sprinkled about the small area, glancing at the model trains, sipping coffee and murmuring quietly amongst themselves. As he approached the metal doors of the lift and pulled the old-fashioned chord to call the car to the ground floor he caught snippets of conversation.

"What a boring afternoon," one woman outfitted in a sharp blue suit with matching sling-back heels complained to her companion. "When I signed up with the television station I thought it would be more exciting. Y'know, breaking the latest disaster to a riveted audience. Instead I'm stuck in a lobby waiting to catch a glimpse of Esthar's foreign minister." She flipped a mass of blonde curls behind one shoulder. "I mean, who really cares? I can't even remember his name!"

Only a short while later the lift groaned to a halt on the third floor. The soldier stepped from the tiny car and onto the worn, boldly decorated carpet. His boots thudded in a common beat as he followed the brass-plated signs that directed toward the presidential suites and breakout rooms.

His breathing intensified, billowing against the dark screen of his helmet. Beads of perspiration formed at his hairline and he had to resist the urge to scratch his neck where the wool of the uniform rubbed against sensitive skin. He rested a gloved hand against his chest, surprised to feel the pounding of his heart through all the layers of material and wiring. His pulse beat in a similar cadence at the curve of his throat. It would all be over soon.

At the door he stopped, took a moment to collect his thoughts. Less than two minutes now, he was sure. Just two minutes. He slowed his breathing and put a hand on the knob. The pounding of his heart was even louder now, echoed through his head like the backbeat of a rock song. When his wrist turned and the bolt of the handle released with a shattering click the rhythm deepened. The tempo sped up until all he could hear was the thumping of his heart. As the thick oak door opened a tinny buzzing joined in, clanging through his eardrums. Still, he continued into the room. There was no going back now, even if he wanted to. He'd left his failsafe behind at the hotel entrance.

Maia looked up from the scattered files when the door opened, frowned at the interruption. This was a private meeting between SeeD and Galbadian representatives. No one else was supposed to be informed of it, including soldiers. The female SeeD in charge of the mission glared at her fellow delegates.

"I thought we had agreed upon no armed forces." She spoke to the head Galbadian official with accusation. "This is a strictly confidential meeting." Two others dressed in full Balamb Garden regalia sat next to her at the narrow table across from three members of Galbadia Garden. The former also appeared annoyed.

Before the Galbadians could defend themselves the man closed the door behind him and stepped toward the table without speaking. He could not find his voice; his throat felt like it was filled with cotton balls. With fingers shaking he lowered his left hand toward his holster.

Maia caught sight of his actions and shot out of her chair. Obviously she had been mistaken when she'd trusted the other Garden members. Too late for regrets now. The thoughts flitted through her mind as she reached for her own weapon, colleagues following suit.

A slightly freckled nose wrinkled when all the soldier did was pull out a remote. Her hand hesitated on the trigger of the revolver for the briefest of moments. That split second cost Maia her life.

Before he closed his eyes, the man watched as the female's wide brown eyes flickered in acknowledgement of what he was about to do. She parted her lips to cry out but her scream was lost in the timbre of the explosion. The reverberations throbbed through the core of the city for several ear-splitting seconds before fading out. And then…silence.

Filled with nervous energy Quistis tapped her hands against the steering wheel of the Garden MRV in a patternless beat. She waited impatiently in the car while the Galbadian soldier manning the checkpoint scrutinized her credentials. More like memorized, she thought. It was certainly taking him longer than necessary to verify her identity. Not in a mood to be trifled with, she leaned her head out the open window and observed the man over the wire frames of her glasses. It was a look she had perfected during her brief stint as an instructor, and one that most found intimidating. The soldier did not appear to be a member of that class.

"Do you need to see my first grade report card as well?" Her tone was exasperated, more than a little sarcastic. Perhaps if she had been more polite to the sentinel from the start she would not have been in this position. But, quite frankly, this was the last place she wanted to be right now. In fact, it was the last place she would want to be ever. And damn them all if they expected her to pretend otherwise.

Unimpressed, the guard glowered down at her. He was not in the mood to deal with uptight, sanctimonious Garden snobs. He was sick to death of their haughty attitudes and "you have to do as I say" mentalities. He was tired of dealing with orders from the so-called officers half his age that thought they knew everything. Essentially, he was just sick to death of his job. It had been a foul day and it was only ten in the morning.

Deciding to save them both from further killing each other with evil glares he handed Quistis back her identification with a dour nod. She snatched it out of his large hand and carelssly chucked it on the dashboard of the car.

"Thanks." It came out as an impolite grumble. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could return to Garden and a nice hot bubble bath. Freesia, she decided as she put her foot to the accelerator and roared the vehicle through the barely opened gate. She had definitely earned it. And scented candles.

Despite the mid-winter month the air was humid, clogging her senses as she pulled into the parking lot. The climate on Balamb was typically warm. But the proximity of the ocean allowed a breeze to flow through that thinned the air and cooled the temperature. The desert surrounding the prison offered no such comfort. With regret she turned off the ignition and, consequently, the air conditioning. Ten minutes, she promised herself, swinging her legs out of the car and onto black concrete. It couldn't possibly take any longer than that.

Exactly fifty-three minutes later she sat in un-air-conditioned discomfort in the office of the prison warden. She was grateful to finally be filling out the last of the forms the helpful man had thrust at her. That is, after he spent the first fourteen of those minutes drilling her on procedure. As if she was some greenhorn who had no idea what a prison was. If she was told one more time, "we do things different in Galbadia than you're accustomed to over in liberal Balamb, we have laws to obey," she was going to rip her sweat-drenched hair out.

God, it was hot in there. If it weren't for Garden procedure she would have discarded her uniform jacket long ago. How did these men stand it?

The door opened abruptly and the long, craggy face of the warden peered through. "You all finished in here, ma'am? The prisoner has been collected."

That was another thing she could not comprehend. Though a hard-line blazing redneck the warden had treated her with nothing but respect and consideration. Odd for someone who had told her he thought Galbadia should burn the bastard at the stake for what he did. Quistis supposed it was to be expected, however. After all, Almasy had done his own burning in that very building.

"Yes, I'm done." She rose from the metal-rung chair and winced. That hurt. Maybe one of Dr. Kadowaki's massages was in order as well.

"Thank you." The bulky man accepted the sheaf of papers and shoved it into a pile on the already covered desk. Quistis had been forced to shift some things around her self in order to clear a space to write. "This way." He directed down the hall with a callused thumb then turned back out the door.

She followed closely behind him, adjusting the material of the skirt that insisted on sticking to her legs. Her eyes stayed on the back of his thinning grey hair, pleased to note that the back of his neck also glistened with sweat. At least she was not the only one suffering.

He led her back around to the front administration desk. Quistis squared her shoulders and prepared for the worst. No eye contact, she told herself. Just thank the warden and lead him to the car. Don't say a word. You can handle this.

She repeated it like a mantra as she neared the main entrance where two male figures stood in wait. The warden scratched the side of his face and stopped. He shifted to look at her, eyebrows furrowed.

"Well, there he is, ma'am. All yours." The expression on his face clearly said that he doubted she could manage such a fierce war criminal.

She nodded then forced a polite smile to her face that plainly said she could handle all that and more. "Thank you for your cooperation." Her jaw tightened and she glanced over at the other two men. Remember Quistis, not one word.

Then her eyes fell on the man she had been doing her best not to think about. The one man who had the power to undermine all she had worked for since the war. Their eyes met, locked, and everything she had told the warden through her gaze faded into oblivion. She be screwed.

He didn't look defeated, was all she could think. His broad shoulders should to be hunched, his head should be bowed, and his eyes should be staring at his feet. He was a beaten man and he was supposed to act that way. But Seifer Almasy was doing none of those things. Except for the handcuffs manacling his wrists he hardly looked like a prisoner of war at all.

His gaze was direct and alert, but cool. His shoulders were straight and his posture tall. Perhaps his hair had grown a bit longer since Quistis had last laid eyes on him but it definitely was not the dishevelled mess she had expected. He looked just as powerful as before, just as ready to take on the world. With that same belligerent jaw and damn-it-all chin.

If anything his pride seemed to have gone up a notch. She had not been prepared for this and found her self fumbling in her next course of action.

Later, she would tell herself she should have anticipated such a reception. The great Almasy arrogance would never allow the man to radiate anything less than total control. Seifer was nothing if not unpredictable. Which was one of the reasons they never got along.

Seifer observed his liberator warily. He was not surprised Garden had sent Quistis Trepe to retrieve him. But then, very little did surprise him these days. He had not even lifted a brow earlier that morning when he was informed of his release into Balamb's custody. He was not sure how he felt about that yet, for that matter. But it wasn't up to him.

Quistis' expression amused him if nothing else. He watched as she regained composure and loosened the fingers that had clenched into tight fists. She had not changed much as far as he could tell. Her eyes were still glazed with icy composure and her head still tilted at a slight angle when she thought hard on a problem. He had no doubt as to what her thoughts pertained to now. But he could only guess as to her feelings toward them. He didn't really give a rat's ass, anyway. He just wanted to be out of there.

With a light shake of her head Quistis addressed the armed guard that gripped Seifer's arm. "You can remove those now. I'll be taking over from here." A slender arm gestured in the direction of the handcuffs.

The guard looked dubious. His eyes shifted about the room uneasily, and he bit at the inside of his cheek. "Are you sure, miss? We can't say for sure what he's capable of."

Seifer nearly snorted. Oh yeah, that was it. As soon as the bindings were off he was going to go on a murderous rampage, eviscerating them all with his invisible weapon. Better watch out, air is deadly.

Quistis seemed to be of similar opinion. "I'm positive." She raised a brow. "Now please, so we can all get out of here." The last was said with an edge of impatience. The heat was getting to her. She needed to get back to the car before she turned into a puddle on the cemented floor. Screw the bath. She was in desperate need of a refreshing cold shower.

When at last his wrists were freed Seifer simply turned and followed Quistis out the doors, chin raised with pride. He had never felt anything more incredible than that hot, thick desert air rushing to meet his upturned face. Freedom. As long as he lived he would never take it for granted again.

Just for that he figured he owed Quistis the courtesy of obedience as she led him to the MRV and unlocked the passenger door. In truth he was a little surprised she was allowing him to sit up front in the first place. Usually criminals were designated to the cargo hold.

Neither said a word as she climbed up into the driver's seat and started up the vehicle. The silence continued when she drove back through the armoured gates, past the guard station and onto the main stretch of roadway. Thank God that was over, they both thought simultaneously.

Seifer permitted himself to relax now that they were speeding away from the hell that was D-District prison. Never again, he vowed to himself, never again would he let himself be caged like an animal. A day in that place was enough to deter even the most dedicated criminals. He was eternally grateful Balamb's laws were much more lenient than Galbadia's.

Quistis' fingers gradually released their white-knuckled hold on the steering wheel. If all went well she would be back in her room within the next hour and a half, providing she didn't pay too close attention to the speed limits. She reached out a hand to turn up the air-conditioning, appreciating the jolt of cold air on her heated skin.

As her shoulders eased into the soft material of the seat she flicked a glace at her companion from the corner of her eye. She wondered what he was feeling right now. Relief, gratitude, guilt? His features were impassive as he stared out the windshield, impossible to read. But then, she had never been able to understand what made Seifer Almasy tick. The main reason she had failed him as an instructor.

Once the prison had vanished a few miles behind him, along with his terrible memories, Seifer began to think more on his current situation. He had no clue what lay a wait for him in Garden. He did not expect a joyful greeting. And why should he? The good guys always won, right? He had lost. So what did that make him?

He was fully aware the only reason Garden was even taking him back was to prevent a lynch mob from breaking out in Balamb City. According to international law, as a prisoner of war captured by Galbadia he had been required for release once negotiations were settled. However, as a war criminal he should be tried for his crimes. Since he was a resident of Balamb he would be sent there, much to Galbadia's dismay. Seifer assumed that there wasn't a state in existence that didn't want a piece of him, including the ever-neutral Trabia. Not too shabby, he thought sarcastically. His head on a metaphorical silver platter was the most desired dish throughout the world. He was a fucking international celebrity. Go team Almasy. If you're going to go down, you might as well go all the way.

"You hungry?" Given that those were the first two words Quistis had spoken to him the entire time it was only natural that he twisted his head to gape at her.

"Huh?"

Keeping her eyes on the road, Quistis allowed the corners of her mouth to curve. One for my side! "I asked if you were hungry. There's a town just up ahead that's home to the greasiest burger you've ever tasted. Superb."

Seifer shrugged, still looking at her somewhat perplexed. "I could eat."

"Good." She reckoned he would be ravenous after months of nothing but prison food. It was probably worse than the stuff they served in hospitals, or in Balamb's cafeteria.

Within a short time she was pulling into the car park of a fast-food restaurant. Quistis had stopped there several times before on previous missions and found it superior to most chains, if more fattening. She stepped from the car but was annoyed when Seifer didn't do the same. Releasing a frustrated breath of air from her lungs she strode around to the other side and yanked open his door for him.

"Let's go."

He moved his head slowly to look at her, both eyebrows raised. "I think I'll wait, thanks."

"Yeah right." Quistis crossed her arms and adopted a similar expression. "Get out." Did he seriously think she was about to leave him in there unattended?

Letting out a long sigh to show that he wasn't cooperating willingly, he obeyed. Leisurely unfolding his tall frame as if he had all the time in the world. He sensed her impatience ~ she was practically vibrating with it ~ and so took his time stretching out his limbs. Even tossed in a satisfying neck crack for good measure.

After watching his display with an irritated scowl she reached behind him to close the car door, nearly catching the hem of his lose shirt in the jam. When he jumped she grabbed his arm and pulled him with her into the diner.

Right away they attracted attention. It was a small town and visitors were rare. Tourism was not a thriving industry just outside a desert. Quistis doubted that the few civilians scattered about the plastic covered booth recognized them at all. Seifer may be an international criminal but the people of the small county were not the type to pay attention to the happenings of the world. As long as there were always crops to tend and bingo halls to visit they would be content. Her hand firm on Seifer's arm she advanced toward the red and white checked counter where an adolescent male stood pretending not to stare at them. She nodded to several patrons as she passed by, trying to appear casual.

More than anything Seifer wanted to be back in the car. His skin felt hot and his head throbbed. He knew the gawking people were probably harmless but that did not stop their gazes from getting to him. It was as if they were waiting for him to explode. He wanted to whip around and yell. "Yes! I did it! I helped the sorceress try to destroy the world! I am evil!" He rubbed his free hand over his face. By Hyne, he felt like it. Just to stop their sunburned faces and probing eyes from staring at him like some kind of time bomb. Screw them all.

He clenched his jaw and half-listened as his captor calmly ordered two hamburgers and fries for take out, observed as the trembling boy smiled back at her. The youth continued to stare dumbly ahead as the change in his hand fell to the floor. Seifer snorted and rolled his eyes. Pathetic. Nevertheless, that didn't mean he wouldn't trade places with the blushing kid in a heartbeat. Had he ever been that innocent?

They managed to collect their food without further commotion and returned to the car. Before he could strap himself in Quistis lowered her hand from where she was about to insert the car key and dropped it in her lap. She shifted in her seat to examine him with narrowed eyes.

"Word is you were possessed."

If the situation had not been so serious Seifer would have grinned at her blunt remark. He wondered how long she had wanted to ask him just that. Knowing her it had probably been driving her crazy over the past several months. Quistis had an insatiable desire to know everything about everyone. However, she usually employed much more tact. It must be really bothering her.

In a cavalier fashion he reached into the paper bag sat between them and pulled out a foil wrapped burger. The warm, appetizing odour of grease and ketchup drifted into the small cab of the vehicle. Unwrapping the foil he took a large, indulging bite and closed his eyes. Quistis had been telling the truth. It was pure heaven.

After taking a few more bites he eventually looked up to see that her gaze remained on him. He shrugged and gestured to the bag. "You gonna eat that?"

Tongue in cheek she put the key in the ignition and started the engine, eyes now focussed on the road. Propping one foot on his knee, Seifer smirked. One for him.