-Six months later-
In truth, I still don't know what I'm expected to say now that it's all over. I wish there were a more pleasant end to the story; that after our lovemaking, Seifer changed his mind and agreed to fight for his right to stay alive and try to recover. I even wish that we were residing in some scummy, tiny little hut of a hideout, living for the moment by the skins of our teeth and never, ever feeling secure. At least then, we would still have been together, whether we lived in chaotic squalor or otherwise. As it was, Seifer was as certain about his fate as he ever had been and tomorrow did come.
It came in an acidic haze of whiteness; the hospital building, the medical grounds looming on the horizon like an angelic demon. We rode there with Laguna in tow, his presence necessary but his speech not forthcoming. Seifer, too, was silent but his hand clasping mine told me all that I needed to know about his feelings. The journey was agonising; every second slipping away and I knowing all too well that I was living inside an egg timer. Every grain of sand was a moment with Seifer by my side that I knew I would never get back, no matter how many Sorceresses I slayed. Would I have given up my victory over Ultimecia if it would have saved his life? In the heat of that moment, the desperation to keep my lover alive, I would have said yes again and again. In the cold mists of guilt, despair and icy acceptance, my answer would remain unchanged. I miss him so much.
He didn't look at me. I didn't ask him to. These were his last moments and I wanted him to fill them as he desired. I watched him taking in the neon scenery as if he'd never seen it before, as if he'd never lived there; gazing with a morbid kind of fascination at every building that passed him. I couldn't relate, not really. The prospect of death had always come to me in an instant; a sudden strike from an enemy, a mistake made in battle. I had never been in Seifer's shoes; possessing the cool, gradual knowledge that my life was about to end. Never had I had the time to think about it before I went down. It was all I could to do to allow him those last minutes of privacy to absorb from the world what he wanted to.
All too soon, the building had arrived before us and the car slowed to a distinct, painful stop. My eyes closed, I felt as if my mind were blank as thoughts warred on and destroyed one another. It was too much to think about all at once and I could only keep breathing, trying to retain composure. Still, he did not look at me. He had registered that the car had slowed and that he was about to face the fate that he has chosen; I could see that from the terror in his eyes. No matter how strong or skilled the soldier, death is not a fearless prospect for any of us, and I only wished I could bring him some comfort. There was nothing for either of us that could make this day any less cold, or any less dark, than it was destined to be but I wanted all the same to make his last moments as easy and as painless as I possibly could. Squeezing on his hand, I felt the intrusive glance of Laguna as a signal for us to be entering the building. Only once inside would the President feel secure that there was finally no going back and that this time, they had the sod of a war criminal well and truly cornered. Seifer looked at me, his eyes a little softer, trying to transmit a message of kind of reassurance into me. Like he himself, it's destiny was doomed. I could only replicate his expression and try to hold up our mutual fort as we slowly exited the car and stared up at the intimidating walls of the hospital.
White all the way to the sky, it seemed; a burning shade that made my eyes feel subjected to a sort of invisible fire. I glanced at Seifer, noting a similar view on his face, before he turned to me and we were forced by guards to follow Laguna's steps. Forcing back the onslaught of yet more, pointless tears I grabbed Seifer's hand in my own once more and we walked slowly, savouring each step like water in the midst of the desert. Hand in hand, as it always should have been but because of mutual stupidity, never was. But enough of that; there's enough sorrow as it is. Walking through that door was one of the hardest things I've ever done. The sheer force I had to employ not to tug him by the arm and run away was astronomical, but somehow, maybe watching the expression on his face, I stopped myself. He didn't look so afraid anymore. His decision was sown up; all options vanished into the air as the door slammed, a hollow, conclusive sound that made my heart ache. There was no more point in fear; now, he had no choice but to go through with it. The pressure of having an escape lifted from his shoulders, he pulled me closer to him as we walked. Our hips nuzzling, I threw one arm over his far shoulder and he took the hand in his right hand. His left arm slung around my waist, and I held that hand with my remaining one. This was the last day in which we'd ever feel the warm skin of the other, and we were damned if we weren't going to milk that for all we could get. We urged one another on with our steps, Laguna tactfully giving up the privacy we craved now that the door was firmly shut on any potential escape.
His body was warmer than I had expected it to be, I mused, as we passed through anonymous corridors of people. It was then that I thought, for the first time, of our informant. That little, senseless prick of a youngster trying to do the right thing. I could hate him but for the fact that I was the same at his age, always trying to do the best thing for my cause, working myself into the gutter just to be the best I could be. There have been days since where I've wanted to hurt him, even ones where I've been leaving the apartment to do so; Lionheart in hand, mind set on guilty vengeance. I can't bring myself to. It was mistake, a horrific and catastrophic one, but I cannot blame that boy without blaming us all; Matron, Balamb Garden, Quistis, myself, Seifer...
Seifer would have hated me ruining his memory by embarking on an ugly frenzy of pointing the finger and arguing. It would have been disrespectful and I've managed to hold back from its temptation. Right then, I could only think of him as a tiny fiend who had single-handedly and quite accidentally brought down the most dangerous man in the world. Beyond the boasts to his friends, would he feel sorry? Would the same agony that coursed through Seifer's veins and mine ever touch him? I held Seifer close to me and tried to block out these horrible notions, the dark demons of regret and devastation. His grasp was equally strong, as if holding us both upright, and before I knew it, we had entered the room in which I knew I would be able to stand only once. These four walls could surround us both only once; Seifer because he would never see them again and myself because I would never dare to try. Only the barest collection of staff stood around, weighted on by heavy solemnity, waiting for his lead. It was strange to see the authorities so submissive, especially to one so rebellious and resented as Seifer was. He too looked surprised, staring for a moment at Laguna who studied him with an unfathomable expression. I couldn't tell whether my father was pleased, disappointed, guilty or harmonious; he shrouded his internal feelings with a mask of unwavering coldness. Seifer soon dropped his gaze and moved it about the tiny room. Behind Laguna, two large windows overlooked a courtyard and the sun streamed in across the white, tiled floor. Surrounding the glass stood four, solid white walls; the intense paint broken up only by clinical signs with writing of cold blues and greys. Everything but the narrow bed to the right of the room was white.
I was too aware than this execution was not going to take place conventionally; Laguna had seen to that. The process of it was going to stay the same; tubes fed through a gap in the wall by the bed, from which three drugs would be anonymously administered. The changes were in the preparation; that I was allowed to stay with him during the last moments, that it was not to take place inside a prison or some such other aggressive place and that there would be no press intrusion. His dress was to be simple but not entirely enforced by the staff. Laguna had specifically asked that only he and I be present in the room when the deed was done and that I should be allowed time to recover being any announcement was made to the press. Though I desperately wished that the event did not have to occur at all, I was glad of my father's alterations. I couldn't bear the thought of watching Seifer lose his life without any kind of comfort, no warm touch to reassure him that everything was going to be okay, no sound of pointless, clichéd lies in his ears to make him smile at my naivety. The staff got on with their business as soon as Seifer had gotten his bearings, visibly unimpressed with the dull staleness of the white-washed room though appreciative of the glowing sunlight by which his death would occur. Getting him settled upon the slim bed, they had connected him to an electrocardiogram machine before I had time to capture his hand in mine. Sitting by his side, I gazed at him with a kind of numb disbelief, unable to understand how this was happening and what I should say.
Looking at me with a soft expression, he whispered, "I don't know how long this is going to take but-"
"Not long enough, right?" I whispered back, holding his hand so tightly I was worried I would break it. "Oh, God. Hyne. This can't be..."
"Sssh. Squall, stop it. Please, don't do that. I know, I know it's difficult but this is the right thing to do. Remember that this is what I wanted. Don't fill these moments with panicking, they're too precious. I've been thinking overnight about what I wanted you to know in the last minutes, before it was too late, but to be honest, I'm coming up blank."
"What I would say...I don't know if you'd believe it. I'm going to say it anyway because I need you to know it; that in these last weeks, Seifer, you've made me love you more than anyone I've ever known. I knew I was living on borrowed time but you made me believe that we could have every moment eternity had to give. You made me believe things about you and I that never would have made an impact if it hadn't been you who'd said them. You made me believe in myself. You made me love you." My words were babbled, mixed up, and I struggled for some kind of stability of speech.
"I'm sorry I'm not intact enough to appreciate everything you've said and done," he responded, as doctors buzzed all around him. "I only know the effort which you went to to save me, when I believed that I was worthless and a burden upon every soul on the planet. You bore every rock I threw at you, let my tsunami wash you over before brushing yourself off and continuing, and you did all of that without a single request in return. I used to mock you for being selfless and sometimes I can still despise you for being so damn wonderful, but it means more to me than I can possibly say to you."
I could only nod, trying with everything I had not to fall apart and succumb to the dry choke of sobs welling within me. "To say that I love you, Squall, would almost be a mockery of how I feel. It would sound cheap given all that you've done for me. It wouldn't do any justice to all that you've given me. I'd be insulting you to say that I loved you and yet it's the word for how I feel. I meant what I said yesterday. You're absolutely everything to me and I'm sorry for everything that I've done to hurt you. I'm vanishing from you and I want you to take life out of my death. It's all I can give you now. Given time, I hope you can understand what I'm saying and what's about to happen. Don't let the memory of it tarnish your thinking, Squall. Don't let it make a tomb for you. Go out and live, for God's sake, and when I see you smile again, I'll know that you're honouring my memory."
Tears sliding down my face, I watched with a void inside me the head nurse making final preparations to Seifer's body. Thick, grey restraints were pulled tightly over his ankles and wrists, but I refused to let go of his hand as she fussed by, making her tut unhappily and work around me. He watched her do so with the slightest hint of ironic amusement, and then looked back at me with an overwhelming tenderness.
"You make me feel guilty for crying about you dying, Seif'," I choked out, voice wild with emotion that I hated myself for but could not curb. "I just don't want to lose you. I love you so much, and I can't bear this. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I want to be stronger but I can't be, I need you so much."
"It's okay. Just cry, it's okay. I love you. Let me go, Squall. It's what I want. Just hold onto my hand and let me go. You're beautiful, and I love you. Don't let anyone ever tell you differently. You're worth so much more than you'll allow yourself to be aware of and if you're going to honour me, you'll remember these words. Remember that I adore you and that you've earned that in everything that you've done. You're strong, you're courageous and you're passionate. You'll be someone's everything one day, Squall, just as you are mine. Don't ever let that slip your mind."
I placed my forehead to his hand, unable to look at him for the distress that threatened to eat me up inside. Forcing myself to calm down, to approach this situation with some kind of proper rationality rather than leaving him with this last, devastated vision of me, I looked up into his eyes and kissed his hand once. His lips turned slowly into a sad smile and I could see him fighting his own emotion. Gratefully, he allows the nurse's uncomfortable insertion of two intravenous tubes to pass as an excuse for the one tear that escapes his eye. The thin tubes worked their way from each of his arms through the hole in the wall to the separate room where the drugs would be filtered through into his system, and he regarded them with a removed sense of interest, no more than a passing glance. I could sense that time was running dangerously low, and I tried to explain to him everything that I wanted him to take with him before he left to his unknown fate.
"I'll make your name something great, Seifer, I promise you that. You'll always be a hero in my eyes but if you want the world to worship your name, I'll see it done. I'll get you the pride you always deserved and never had. I'll continue believing in myself if you just let me make something for you in the world you're leaving behind. Don't make me forget you, because I can't. Let me do this. Please, let me do this. I just want to love you, and please, let me do that."
"As long as you're moving on, Squall, you can do anything you put your mind to. Just don't let me drown you, don't let what I'm doing go to waste. Just come closer, now. We've got an understanding, haven't we? Nothing more to say on that matter. Just come close to me and let me hold onto you whilst all of this goes on. Let me take in what I'm going to leave behind."
"I've got you, I've got you." I said, quite unnecessarily. I couldn't have gotten my hand away even if I'd wanted to. The others in the room were completely forgotten as I shifted closer to him, capturing his hand with both of my own and whispering over and over again pointless verses of my feelings for him. He bounced the words back to me; reciprocating affection and tangling us both up in a mess of tears and entwined fingers. They left in a silent line, leaving myself, Laguna and Seifer alone for the event to start. It was truly it; no more words to delay it, no kisses able to prolong the moment.
"Last statement?" Laguna said softly, Dictaphone in hand and looking as if he wished he too could have avoided this day.
Seifer looked at him with glowing eyes, provocative; the way I knew him before he became so sick. His attitude was exuded in his every breath as he spoke clearly; gentle undertones only clear if you knew him. Firmly, he said,
"Take care of Squall."
His eyes widened slightly as a fluid ran down the tubes and entered his body, and I felt my grip only tighten on his hands. I know now that it was a saline solution, a preparation for the drugs that were about to be used, but back then we were both in the dark about what was happening. He put his head back against the surface of the trolley bed and closed his eyes briefly, opening them to look back at me, squeezing my hand as best he could without the bite of the tube hurting him. I couldn't smile, couldn't think, couldn't even breathe properly. I just held on as tightly as I could, tried desperately to remain calm and whispered reassurances through tight lips.
"It's okay, you're going to be alright, I've got you, it's okay, it's okay..." Meaningless promises, but he smiled nonetheless, grimacing only a little at the strange feeling of liquid entering his veins. His face contorted into an expression of pain at the prolonged sensation of the saline solution and I felt my heart ache for him, wishing that I could only take it all for him. The knowledge that it wasn't going to last long was a double-barrelled sword; I didn't want him to have to suffer too long under this torturous treatment, but I knew that his only salvation would be the end of his life. A couple of tears ran down his face and I found myself begging for someone to put him out of his misery, to let him go peacefully, to stop making his last moments so drawn out with agony. As if I myself had called the signal, I felt a timeless, everlasting second's pause before the first drug was administered; the one designed to take him away from the remainder of the execution, the one made to spare him whilst the witnesses can only watch and wait for the other two drugs. Pentothal, the anaesthetic, flowed down the narrow tube to reach its destination and I was aware that our remaining time together was no more than thirty seconds or so. Somehow managing to pull myself even closer to his side, I curled my body around the hand that I was clutching and took a deep breath, locking my gaze with his and taking in every ounce of him, every inch of the man who was leaving me behind. He returned my look with watery eyes, trying weakly to squeeze his hand into mind, to make a last effort at contact. I think I must have told him I loved him three thousand times, but it wasn't enough. There was never going to a sufficient amount of words for the feelings I had within me and I can only pray that he knew what I couldn't manage to say.
"Take care of yourself," He whispered gently, as the drug began to take its effect. "Remember all that I said, and take care of the you that I loved."
Practically choking on the words, I nodded frantically and whispered back, "But you'll never see my feelings change."
A smile took hold of his face as he knew, perhaps unconsciously, that his time was nearly up and he retorted, "That's the stubborn guy I know and love."
I put my hand to his forehead and stroked a strand of soft hair away from his face. Letting it fall back to expose the scar running towards his nose, I quickly performed the same movement on my own forehead and he chuckled under his breath.
"And own." I whispered softly, and his smile fell a little as the impact of my words hit him, before widening once more with his nod of agreement. Hair swept away from his open face, I had a clear vantage point as the drugs began to work on him; his wide, bright emerald eyes closing slowly as he fell away from me. From that point on, time became worthless to me as I buried my face in his relaxed hand, hearing the agonising slowing of breath as Pavulon was administered to paralyze his lungs. I can remember every agonising second that elapsed before the final step came, the potassium chloride needed to interrupt the electric signalling crucial to keeping a healthy heartbeat and to induce cardiac arrest. The sound of silence that came from the heart monitor perhaps should have stood as a solemn shrine to his death, but as it was, it was filled with the wrenching volume of my own bitter sobbing.
It took everything I had to try not to remember the description of me that was written in his handwriting, back when he considered me a military threat to his imaginary plan. I tried so hard not to let those words filter through my mind as I rested next to his motionless form, and it was a fight against an opponent destined to defeat me.
"Squall Leonhart. Stubborn to the death, a man to be avoided unless you have the courage and mindset to match his immeasurable strength. Once defeated, he makes a loyal, loving ally whose strength is immediately transformed into a fount of selflessness, care and love that belies his appearance of cold callousness. Fighting alongside him in the War would have been a dream, but permission to be with him would be a gesture equal to being granted access at the gates of Heaven."
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