Chapter 18

"You may be disappointed if you fail, but you are doomed if you don't try." – Beverly Siles

Seifer had left town that same day. He'd left Balamb without a word to anyone. But it felt more like he'd left just because of her. Quistis knew that his pride could only take so much beating. She knew he was going to leave eventually, but she wasn't so sure how soon until later that evening when Irvine knocked on her door with a vicious pound and met her with a furious look.

"Where is he?" was his first greeting.

"You mean Seifer?"

"No, your pet moogle," Irvine practically snapped. "Of course I mean Seifer."

"Obviously, he's not here," she said simply.

"I'm going to kill him."

"That's if you can find him first," Quistis said.

Irvine paced to and from, leaving tread marks on her carpet. "Well, at least Laguna didn't ask me about him, he probably forgot he told me to bring the bastard," he muttered.

Quistis felt her spine stiffen. She might have the right to call Seifer nasty names, she thought egotistically, but Irvine certainly didn't. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she said, pointing towards her door.

Irvine stood firmly on his ground. He didn't appear to be easily removed. "I'm not leaving until I know what's going on."

Irvine can be stubborn, she knew, especially when he's enraged. And for the first time in a very long while, she hasn't seen this side of him. She knew he wasn't going to budge. She sighed in defeat. It was amazing how he could irritate the grits out of her and yet at the same time, see through her as well. She's beginning to understand Irvine a little more everyday. That maybe if he could find the things that can mostly annoy her, then certainly he can also find the things that could easily hurt her.

"Why weren't you at Mrs. Dincht's tonight? I know you could've come even if he wasn't there," he barked, breaking into her thoughts with considerable force.

"I had some work to finish," she shrugged. "And I needed to catch up on my reading."

Irvine wasn't swayed, and so he snorted, "I wasn't aware you were falling behind."

"I don't have anything to tell you, so there's really no point in you staying here."

"You're going to tell me something, alright, and I'm not budging until you do," he said obdurately.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Just a moment to try to relieve the headache that had been plaguing her since this afternoon. Since her spat with Seifer. She didn't want to tell Irvine about that. She didn't even want to tell him as much as what he told her. News always traveled fast around their small circle of friends.

She wasn't sure how she got the energy, but there was a particular invigorating advantage to putting up a good front, so she squared her shoulders, raised a brow and said, "You're not in any place to budge on anything."

"He'd hurt you. Didn't he?"

Irvine, Quistis thought dryly, had not clearly developed a talent for subtlety.

"I swear, if he damaged your soul – "

"He did no such thing," she lied. What else can she say? That Seifer had offered her a position as his whore? And that he couldn't afford to keep her as any further distraction, while he's ruling a country? That the man couldn't – and wouldn't – make a place for her in his heart, for if he did, his weakness, his emotions, might rule him instead.

And if she knew Seifer well enough, he's more determined than a hermit to make a place for himself in the world.

She could find satisfaction knowing that at least, he's on his way to fulfill his dream.

Even if it meant the end of hers.

"Quistis…" Irvine's voice held no end of warning.

She kept silent.

"What happened? If something did, I swear I'd kick myself for leaving you this afternoon."

"You're not my keeper, and nothing happened, if you must know." She had been telling herself the same thing lately. That nothing really had happened. There was nothing between herself and Seifer. For Seifer, it was purely lust. And maybe, just maybe, for her, she had been confused. But the gravity pulling down at her heart was far too strong to ignore that there had been something – and there still might be.

"Alright, Quistis." He reached out and took her hand. "I'll let you handle this as you see fit."

"Thank you, but there's really nothing to handle."

"For now," he warned. "Don't think I'll let this situation continue."

But it would, Quistis thought a half-hour later as Irvine left her dorm. It could continue indefinitely.

* * *

The following week had been lacking of color and everything had turned to its black and white series of events. Laguna had left and returned to Esthar, knowing full well that his plan on turning Seifer into a magnanimous leader had gone awry. So Quistis and Laguna shared a meaningful hug as she fared him well, and she realized as he waved goodbye from his train window, that she would be missing the old man and his recurring voice in her head.

She wanted to blame him, even though she knew that the blame lay squarely on herself. But the old man's voice, playing back over and over inside her head, until she thought she might explode, was almost too truthful not to ignore. To her, those voices were a constant reminder, that it isn't so terrible to dream, or feel fanciful at times. She had two people to thank for that. The owner of that voice, and the other one, being Seifer.

It sounds as if to fall in love is the only thing that could get you to be silly…

…You definitely deserve a man who's equally clever. Or someone who's capable of outsmarting you…

…Isn't it nice to discover that we're not exactly what we thought we were?

The least outrageous of all…is falling in love.

Maybe that was it. Maybe…she hadn't been herself lately. No, that wasn't it. She'd been herself all along, only that it was her true self. She looked back on the last several days and found, not to her surprise, that she had been outrageous. She'd laughed, she'd pulled tricks, even…almost surrendered herself blindly to passion.

Good Lord! Is the old man telling her that she's…in love?

She threw a thousand curses to the heavens and to the gods. And to love. For allowing such a destructive force exist in the human lives. It was a feeling easily mistaken for something else. Once, she had thought she was in love, only to discover that it really was not love, but a mere fanciful admiration of being in love. And to whom else, but to the wrong person who referred a wall as a psychoanalyst.

She prayed, dearly prayed to all forms of deity, that whatever it was she was feeling at the moment, is not love. She hoped that she's mistaken again.

Because if this turns out to be love, then curse it to hell, because in all her years of existence, nothing feels as agonizingly painful and miserably heartbreaking.

* * *

Laguna arrived in his presidential palace late that evening. He was tired, and damn his leg has cramped up again. He nodded to one dutiful servant in thanks for willingly attending to his luggage. His old bones haven't been kind to him as was before during his youth, back when he could so easily move them under his flesh so fluidly. But age caught up with him, and soon, he will expire.

He fell heavily on an armchair in his study. The soft cushion under leather felt heavenly compared to those on the train. The trip was tiring. And, not to mention, his plan was unsuccessful.

He sighed. He had his mind set on that boy as his inheritor to the presidency, to mould him into the man he ought to be, but it seems that Seifer's pride proved to be more stubborn than his desire to rise. It would have been easier if Squall, his own son, would assume the title, but he's made it clear that he has no intentions of following his father's footsteps.

Since he wasn't much of a father in the first seventeen years of his life, he couldn't blame the guy if he chose not to do anything with him.

He shook his head unwittingly.

"You look like you need a drink," came a voice, jarring him from his thoughts.

Laguna looked up to see whom it belonged to. It was familiar but he had to make sure.

Recognition came to him. "Seifer."

His tall figure emerged from the shadows and revealed himself. "The one and only."

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

"Been here a week. Came straight from Balamb," Seifer said and wandered over to the decanter and poured a glass of brandy.

Laguna offered a rather satisfied smile. "You could have at least told me you were coming here. Who let you in?"

Seifer offered him the half-filled glass before he replied, "Some big guy who can't talk."

Laguna accepted the offered glass. "Ah, that would be Ward Zabac. He, uh…helped you in Deling,"

Seifer stared at him in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"Remember Biggs? Wedge? That night in Deling?"
Seifer's memory of that night flashed before his eyes. It all became suddenly clear to him now. He looked at the old man sitting haphazardly on the armchair, thinking that he should probably thank him. But he wouldn't take the idea into action. Not yet.

"Anyway, I had to suffer a ten-hour train ride without someone to talk to. Do you know how boring that was? Why didn't you stay in Balamb until we leave, like I told you?"
He shook his head. "It's complicated."

Laguna leaned back in his chair. "Aaahh…. It's a woman."

"What?" he snapped.

"Complicated things usually involve a woman, trust me, I'd know," he said and added a wink.

He looked around for any signs of the 'Missus' but almost the whole interior of the palace was devoid of any sort of feminine touch. "You'd know? What, are you having troubles with your mistress?"

"What!?" Laguna jumped. "I don't keep a mistress, or mistresses, whatever. I only have one woman in my life."

Seifer looked around again, searching for the said woman.

"She uhh…passed away."

Seifer nodded in understanding. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's alright, you didn't know." Laguna wiggled his brows. "Besides, you've probably gotten it into your head that politicians keep mistresses, eh?"

His words couldn't have pierced deeper into Seifer's chest. The reminder was like a hot and sharp iron slicing through his flesh and searing his soul. He eyed the doorway, intending to pass through it very shortly. He's beginning to think that he's probably making a mistake coming here. He wasn't sure anymore. Nothing seems to feel right anymore. But he knew that if he did not come to Esthar, he'd regret it for the rest of his life.

"Well Seifer, I'm glad you've accepted," he said, rising from his chair. "I'll see you in the morning,"

"You're going to sleep?"

"I'm tired. I want to take a shower and go to bed. You go to bed too, because your training starts tomorrow."

"Training?" he echoed.

"You're filling in for my position, aren't you? That's why you came here, isn't it?"

Seifer only nodded his response.

"I'm old, I need to rest. There's so much to do. I have to appear to the council, then make a public announcement, then…there's you."

"What's the part about the council?"

"I'm going to have to convince them that you're suitable for the job," he waved off nonchalantly, making the task appear too easy.

"You didn't tell me anything about convincing anyone."

"That's no problem. They trust my judgement. I've been president for twenty-two years, there's hardly any reason for them to doubt me now."

"Of course they have every reason to," Seifer nearly shouted. "You're putting an ex-convict in the office, who's not going to second guess that?"

Laguna yawned before he replied, "You're not an ex-con, stop exaggerating. And just trust me, Seifer. I know what to do."

Seifer said nothing, but it was difficult to miss the satisfied expression on his face.

"And by the way," Laguna called out from the doorway. "I'm glad you considered this opportunity."

Seifer's lips pressed together and focused his attention on a landscape painting.

"Oh, and Seifer," Laguna called.

Seifer looked up.

"If you don't turn out to be a success," he smiled thoughtfully. "Then at least you tried to become a man of value,"

And with that last instilling philosophy, Laguna disappeared from the room.

Seifer was left contemplating and chewing on the thought that was left for him to keep him awake for almost the whole night. And as he lay on the wide bed in one of the palace chambers, he was determined to become both. He will be successful, and he will become a man of value, if only to achieve what he realized became of so much worth to him the most.

He stared at the ceiling for several hours.

He'd been alone most of his life, but he didn't expect to feel this lonely.

Bloody hell. He hadn't expected to miss her.

This was not to say, however, that he wasn't still furious with her. Did she not know the power she could wield over him? He couldn't let it happen. He can't get used to having her around, and he can't get used to seeing her everyday, it would only lead to his craving for her. And he'll end up at the mercy of this feeling, whatever it is.

It's too terrifying.

He wasn't such a cynic that he didn't believe love exists. But he wasn't ready to call this force love. It was a luxury he can't afford at the moment, not when he's building himself a name, and regaining back his honor.

Maybe in another lifetime, he'd have been on bended knees, begging for her hand.

But this is an entirely different time. He's a tarnished man. A true knight in rusted armor.

Maybe, after all this, when the tide ebbs away, he hoped, prayed to God that he might finally be worthy of her.

He knew exactly what she was asking for. But it was something he could not give to her in whole.

His heart, which was still shattered in pieces, is not enough to afford her. Quistis costs more than a heart and a half.

And right now, this was his chance to earn his back, even if he has to pick it up piece by piece.

Maybe someday, he thought as his eyes drifted shut, someday he'll return to Balamb a whole man, with a whole heart.