Blond Silence

By Nix Winter

I don't own ff8, alas, but I own many at darkfedora com

Author's Note: I warn you, this was written at work, on my phone, between calls... It was written just for fun.

I know him. He smiles so quietly at me, waiting for something that I don't understand. They tell me there was a war and that I killed people, that I tortured him, that I was someone frightening. My truth is that the only thing I remember from before I saw him was his eyes. They're gray, expressive, like the only thing about him that really shows his feelings first. Of course it echoes out from there, but first, everything is first in his eyes.

I have a sketchbook filled with his eyes, and then after I found him, his lips and his ears and his throat, his wild russet hair. His coat and those belts, some pages even have his secret smile.

Selphie told me I have a good imagination when she saw that page, with him smiling, but I have seen him smile like that, teeth showing, little lines by his eyes. I don't remember when, but I have.

It's very odd to remember things that people say probably never happened, to believe things people say happened couldn't have happened. I don't believe I put that scar on his forehead. If I did that, why does he still smile at me when no one else is looking?

I have a scar too, after all, and it matches his. Sometimes I daydream that we got those scars right before his fire cave ordeal, just like they say we did, but that we did it to each other, kneeling, bravely marking each other with matching scars. I think we must have kissed too, there among the witnessing stones, on our knees. But I didn't ask him. He doesn't really talk to me.

Everyone says I hurt him so badly in the war, and then I was gone for a year, just somewhere in the world. Now he spends time with Rinoa and I can understand why. She's beautiful, not like me. Her face isn't scarred like mine, more than just the scar between my eyes a burn that I don't remember left the left side of my face rough, sensitive to light and touch. Which is okay, because I don't go out and no one touches me.

Her mind isn't locked up like mine either. She can laugh, and she can cry, and she can talk.

"Hey, Seifer," Irvine called.

His voice was so easy to pick out. I knew his voice before I knew any of them. Just slightly whiney, maybe, a bit of an exotic twang to it. I looked over my shoulder, smiled, a genuine smile that lifted my mood from the darkness that had been chasing me. It's hard to sign with a pencil in my hands, so I put it in my mouth and signed, "Hello, Cowboy. How are you?"

Irvine sat down in the quad next to me, pulled his hat down so that all I could see was his lips grimacing like he'd swallowed a snail. "Why are you not in class, Seifer Almasy?"

Why is it always me that he gets right to the point with? "I didn't want to," I signed.

"You love Selphie's stupid poetry class. She sent me to find you."

"Make up the work later," I sign, then wipe my pencil off on my sleeve like I'm tired of putting it in my mouth, ending the conversation.

"Marq giving you a hard time?"

I shook my head. They said I didn't lie before, but I sure did now. I couldn't have people fighting my battles for me, standing up for me. It was something I needed to do myself, but I just didn't know how. I'd only been back at Balamb (and what kind of name is that, I ask you? Sounds like something a sheep would say.) for what? Six months? My memories hadn't been so solid when Squall dragged me back.

The doctor seemed to think she was my mother and she's got me on shots that fixed my memories, so, okay, it's been six months. If he wasn't here, I'd leave again. Most people make it real clear I don't belong here. I don't believe I'm a murderer, but I sure am tired of people looking at me as if I am.

As a distraction, I hold my sketchbook out to show Irvine. The drawing was a woman, complete fantasy, surrounded by ice so lightly shaded that she looked ephemeral, translucent. She was beautiful on paper, graceful, with an edge of dangerous vengeance.

"You know who this is?" Irvine asked, leaning forward a bit.

My head twitched, making me feel like an idiot. I do that sometimes. I'll want to shake my head. I see other people doing it and I'll forget I can't. My neck freezes up and I just can't, then I sit and twitch like an idiot.

"Here," he said, pulling a gill coin from his pocket. "Heads is yes, tails is no, and set it on its side for I really want to get a burger and go to class before Selphie strangles her boyfriend."

Smiling was easy. That never made me twitch and Irvine grinned back. I took the coin and set it between us, tails up.

"So you don't know who this is?"

I tapped the coin. People could be so irritating sometimes.

"Woh boy. Your memories are in that blond head somewhere. This is Shiva. Squally's favorite guardian. I reckon you saw her a lot in the past."

"She's," I pause, chewing my pencil for a moment, "Real?"

Irvine nodded. "You've called her before, even hosted her chilly little self in your own head. I think guardians are the reason you can't remember. Even Squally and Sel had memory problems."

"Really?" I eyed him, suspicious.

"Well not as bad as you got, but still. I think you got hurt in other ways too. Now, come on. You still want to be a seeD right? That means you've got to go to class and I know you ain't used your food tickets for a week. You trying to lose weight or what? Is someone bothering you still?"

So much for the coin being of any use. I sighed. "What are you going to do? Give me a round the clock guard? So someone spit in my food. So someone else wants to kick my ass. I ought to leave. I was doing okay till I got back here. I can take care of myself. I don't need charity."

"Well, for one, it ain't charity. You studied here and worked here a long time before that witch got you. On top of that, Laguna declared you a victim of the Sorceress and you're entitled to victim support funds. You're not a criminal and anyone who says you are is breaking the law. You're innocent, Seifer."

Gods, there were times I want to cry so badly. I want to just sob and pour out this blackness in me, but I can't. My eyes burn and my gut ties all up, but I have no more tears than words. Suddenly Selphie's class was looking really good. I set the coin on it's side and he slapped my back. I winced, chin tucking towards my chin and he froze.

"Who hit you?"

Gods, sometimes I want to scream.

"I don't know," I signed. Yeah. I lie a lot. I don't love Squall, either.