Into Esthar

by Chemotaxis

Set two and a half years after the Second Sorceress War. Squall and Seifer have moved on with their lives, but a chance encounter in Esthar confronts them with their past. Yaoi. Seifer/Squall. Written by Wolkje & Chemotaxis. WIP.

38. Broken Memories

~ Chapter Thirty-Eight - Broken Memories ~

---

Squall could make out the sound of a crackling fire as they entered the living room. Ellone was standing in front of the fireplace, a fire hook in one hand and a piece of newspaper used to busily fan the burning wood in the other.

"Ah," she exclaimed, peering over her shoulder and looking them over. "All done?"

Nodding, Squall stepped further into the living room. On the coffee table, Ellone had set out a pitcher of water and glasses. He knew Seifer would probably prefer something stronger, but he himself was glad there was no alcohol within their immediate reach. Sitting down on the couch, he steeled himself.

"There, the fire's good to go. Should keep you two nice and warm while you're out," Ellone announced as she came to a stand. Looking Seifer's way, she elaborated. "When you're off into the past, your body won't be moving at all. Your heart rate will lower too. It's easy to get chilled."

When Seifer only gave a pensive nod in return and moved to sit in one of the armchairs, Ellone took a deep breath and tried to quell a surge of jittery nerves. Sitting down next to her brother, she poured herself a glass of water and gulped down half of it before looking between her two tense visitors. Seifer's silence was palpable after the lively day spent with the blond.

"So, I guess this is it," she started, straightening in her seat. "If anyone has something to say before we start, now's the time."

Seifer looked up from where his eyes had been fixed on the coffee table. "I do. I understand if either of you want out. Just say the word and we end it now."

"I've already told you. We're in this together, right?" Ellone said, looking to her brother. She was pleased to see his immediate nod, the man's gaze firm on Seifer.

"Alright," Seifer said, not really having expected any different. "But like I said earlier, if Squall sees anything from the war in my memories, we stop—" He hesitated briefly, holding the brunet's gaze. "—and I leave."

Squall frowned at the new condition that was added at the very last minute. His stomach dropped when he realized that Seifer meant 'leaving' in the broadest sense of the word. He'd never see the man again. Seifer's earlier awkwardness and silence were cast in a new light, and suddenly there was no other way to interpret Seifer's earlier kiss than as a preemptive goodbye.

"It won't come to that," Ellone reassured, uncertain which man needed to hear the affirmation most. "But… I'll respect your wish."

Holding Seifer's gaze, Squall couldn't bring himself to make the same promise. This defeatist bullshit wasn't why he'd brought them here. He didn't want to hear Seifer give voice to his own worst fear like this, right before they'd even started.

"Squall?"

Brow twitching at Seifer's adamancy, Squall met green eyes in a battle of wills. He'd never be able to forgive himself if he let Seifer disappear with a burden of that magnitude on his mind. But he also knew Seifer would call things off altogether if he didn't yield.

"Fine," he ground out with effort.

Placing his glass of water on the table, Seifer leaned forwards in his chair. However reluctantly Squall had given his agreement, he had it. "Anything else before we start?"

"I have a few things to say too," Ellone said, trying hard to appear calm and steadfast. It had been so long since she'd last done this. "First off," she started, raising a finger in count, "I don't need to know what you see. All I need to know is if you can handle what I show you. If either of you need a break, say so. Immediately. Once I put you in a memory, I can't just bust you out again." She paused, raising another finger. "Second... Don't shoot the messenger."

When no one objected, she looked between the two men. "So, where do we start?"

"The war," Seifer replied firmly, tensing further in his seat. No point in avoiding the crux of the matter. It was what they'd come for.

"Okay, so... Squall's going first then," Ellone said mostly to herself. She stood up from the couch, gesturing for her brother to lie down. "You better get comfortable. We don't want you waking up with bumps or scrapes."

"Like last time," Squall muttered, venting some of his nerves into the grumbled complaint.

"So to make sure we're all on the same page here," Ellone started, looking at Seifer. "First we try and establish how far the barrier stretches? See if it overlaps with Seifer's time as a knight?"

At Seifer's nod, Ellone took a moment to make herself comfortable in the armchair and gestured for Squall to do the same. "Go on, lie down. Better safe than sorry." Breathing in deeply, she waited until her brother had settled in and was fully reclined. "Okay, so, I'll start somewhere at the beginning of the war. Or well, feel my way around that time... Everybody ready?"

Humming in agreement, Seifer felt his muscles tense in anticipation even though there was nothing he could do but watch.

Squall added his own nod of consent and closed his eyes. It was impossible to try and relax when any second now Ellone would drop him in another time, into another body. There was no countdown, no way to prepare for this, and unlike his experiences with Rinoa, there was no sense of someone plucking at his mind, seeking access.

One moment there was the sound of fire crackling in the hearth, the heat of it warming his skin and the glow of it piercing his closed eyelids. The next moment, a dizzying surge of pure disorientation was followed by the shock of someone else's presence, their every thought and feeling broadcasted into his own mind without any filter. He was trapped in a moving body. All he could do was to try and hold on to his own thoughts and keep himself separate from everything he felt, heard and saw.

He was back at Garden. Before the war. He was cussing non-stop and in front of him was one of Garden's steel sliding doors. He held a heavy weight in his arms. Himself.

Lifting a knee to support Squall's ass, Seifer knocked hard on the metal door with his temporarily freed hand. He glared at the dead weight in his arms, only to curse when he spotted Squall's blood dripping onto his coat. Just his fucking luck that the Princess of Balamb Garden had fainted on his ass. "Open up, motherfucker!" Seifer yelled, unable to muster any patience when the burden in his arms only kept getting heavier. Finally the hydraulic door slid open, a sleep-addled Raijin blinking against the bright light of the hallway.

Pushing past his friend and into the dorm, Seifer sent a glare to Raijin's scrawny roommate who was sticking his head into the common room to see what the commotion was all about.

"Get back to your fucking room!" Seifer barked out before turning his foul mood on Raijin. "And you, get dressed."

Raijin crossed his arms and stared Seifer down.

"Look, he fucking fainted on me," Seifer explained emphatically. "We were sparring and then BAM, he collapsed. Squall fucking Leonhart collapsed."

"He alright, man?" Raijin asked, dropping the pose and walking over to study the unconscious brunet in Seifer's arms.

Seifer sighed. "Yeah," he said, tightening his hold. "Steady pulse, breathing's okay. Like he's taking a fucking nap." Jostling Squall roughly, there was still no reaction. Not even an annoyed glare. "Fuck," he cursed again for good measure. He was in enough shit as it was. Him knocking Squall out was not going to improve his standing with his instructors. "Just get fucking dressed already and bring him to the infirmary."

After a roll of his eyes, Raijin disappeared into his dorm room. "You'll owe me, ya know."

Trapped with Squall in his arms, Seifer eyed the table in the middle of the room, wondering if he could get away with just dumping the brunet then and there. He needed to get back to his own dorm to clean up and get rid of the evidence. It was too late to prevent his injury from scarring. He'd gone too long without healing it and by now a curative spell wouldn't do more than close the flesh. Fuck, how the hell would he explain that? Why the fuck hadn't he brought any Cures along?

"Shit."

Relieved when Raijin came back out of his room, Seifer straightened and renewed his hold on Squall. "Well, shit, come the fuck over, we don't have all fucking day," he cursed. "Princess here weighs a motherfucking ton."

Watching as Raijin raised an eyebrow at him and took his time sauntering over, Seifer grit his teeth.

Raijin's eyes traveled between them. "Matching scars, ya know."

"Yes, motherfucker, I know. Thanks for pointing out the obvious." He glared at him. "Now will you please get his heavy ass to the infirmary or am I going to have to knock you out too?"

"Yo man, relax," Raijin said, finally holding out his arms to take Squall. "I've got your back."

Quickly dropping the brunet in Raijin's arms, Seifer shook out the aches in his tired muscles. "Thanks man."

"He's light, yo," Raijin said with a chuckle, his grin growing at Seifer's deadly glare. "Alright, alright, I'm outta here."

Passing Raijin just before they exited the dorm, Seifer scouted the hallway. "It's empty," he said, his eyes dropping to his unconscious rival. "Don't let anyone see him, alright?"

Raijin shrugged. "I'll do what I can, ya know."

"You fucking better," Seifer said, stalling. "I'll see your ass later. I'm gonna go clean up this mess." There was blood all over his chest, and a thick smearing of mud coated his pants and trench coat where Squall's boots had been lolling against him. He turned and left, picking up his pace.

Of course this had to happen today of all fucking days. Stupid little fucker. Who the fuck would collapse on the field exam day?! Typical of Squall to try and make him feel guilty about it. But the sting of the clotting wound between his eyes quickly removed any budding remorse. Shit, if anyone found out, he'd be cutting it close to finding his ass expelled.

Letting out a string of curses, he continued down the empty hallway and rushed down the stairs. Hopefully the route Raijin was taking would be just as empty. Squall looked too fucking weak like that and if it had been the other way around, he would've killed Squall if the brunet didn't make sure no one saw him in such a sorry state.

Keying in the code to his shared dorm, he stalked straight through the common room and into his own room. Untying Revolver and Hyperion, he dumped them on his desk and shed his clothes in a big heap on the floor. Hurrying into the bathroom, he got under the shower, only to shout out a loud curse as the water hit his brow. "Fuck!"

He immediately got back out of the shower and went to look at himself in the mirror. A diagonal cut marred the bridge of his nose, extending all the way from his forehead down to his upper cheek. An exact mirror of the one he'd cut onto Squall's face. Precise little shit. Leaning in, he prodded at the separated flesh and congealed blood. He should've known Squall would try to get him back. An eye for a fucking eye.

Bending down over the sink, he ran some water over his forehead, washing out the wound before he returned to the shower. Making quick business of cleaning up and getting dressed, it was time to get rid of the evidence of their early morning spar. He put his muddy clothes on a hanger in the shower and sprayed them down, getting rid of the worst stains before leaving them to dry. He gave Revolver and Hyperion a quick rinse as well and found himself slipping into the hallway with Revolver in hand minutes later.

Getting a thrill from sneaking around, he was almost disappointed when he made it to Squall's dorm without encountering anyone. It was with slight annoyance that he keyed in the code that would allow him access to the guy's dorm. It had taken him a whole week of covert glances to glean Squall's code, and this was all he'd get for his trouble. Inside, it was dark, the cadet Squall shared his dorm with most likely asleep. Pushing open the door to Squall's room, he shut it just as quickly. No one would suspect he'd even been there. Apart from one unconscious brunet, perhaps.

He turned on the light and looked around the room. Still as uninspiring as the last time he'd been there to pester the guy. Neat and tidy, not one fucking thing out of place. Placing Revolver on the desk, he couldn't help himself from taking a closer look and rifling through Squall's things. There had to be something Squall kept hidden, some secret that he could hold over the brunet's head. But there was nothing. No booze or porn, just a large selection of non-fiction books and leather apparel. Fucking typical. Maybe there'd be something on the guy's console.

Flopping down on the uncomfortable chair by the desk, he switched it on and input the second password he'd obtained through his superior cunning. He waited as the console loaded, then looked through the standard Garden folders. All he found were course materials, class notes, essays and the like. There wasn't a single obscurely named folder with incriminating files, not even a folder with music or vids.

Sighing, he navigated to Squall's magic inventory instead. His eyes opened wide. Hundred fucking Cures. Hundred Blizzards. Hundred Fires and on it went. Everything was there, neatly organized. All the spells they were allowed to carry, with a maxed out inventory on every single one. He arched an eyebrow. Nine Lives and thirteen Flares as well. A smirk curled his lips. Finally some evidence that Squall was human, that the guy could feel strongly enough about something to actually break the rules.

Stocking up on everything he needed to give himself an edge during the exam, he made sure to leave random, uneven numbers behind. Laughing at the mess he'd created, he got up from the chair and flopped down on Squall's immaculately made bed, ruining the military creases of the sheets. He raised his less than clean boots onto the bed, folded his arms beneath his head and stared up at the ceiling that looked the same as in his own dorm. It was odd to realize he was lying in the exact spot where Squall spent his nights, relaxed and unguarded. What did Squall think of when lying here? He adjusted the pillow slightly, sinking even further into the bed, and inhaled deeply. It even smelled like Squall.

He tapped his fingers against the white sheets. Squall would be at the infirmary by now. What if Squall didn't wake up in time for the field test? He needed to make sure the little prick wouldn't miss his test. He sat up in the bed but didn't move. He had a Cure now. The wound would still scar but he could get rid of the pain. Running a finger over the fresh cut, he dismissed the thought. There was no way Kadowaki would waste magic on Squall's injury, not after the lecture they'd both gotten from her last time, and he'd be damned if he'd let Squall think he was too squeamish to stand the sting of some old-fashioned healing. And it might just be the perfect back-up plan. If he had an equally angry looking cut to throw in Trepe's face, then she couldn't very well expel his ass without getting her favorite little pet into trouble as well.

He'd get away with it. He'd make sure of it. And he was going to make damned sure Squall would be ready for what the day had in store as well. It was the only way he'd get any satisfaction out of outperforming the little shit. Looking around the room one last time, he jumped up from the bed and decided to go find Fujin. He'd make her check up on Squall and report back.

Blinking slowly as the memory faded and a wooden ceiling came back into view, Squall felt a brief moment of relief when his muscles twitched in response to his own command again. He'd never get used to the lack of control that came with this.

But slowly he forgot about the discomfort as the actions of a younger Almasy replayed in his mind, bringing a frown to his brow. As if the universe thought his pride hadn't taken enough of a beating that morning long ago. Pushing up in the couch, he turned to look at the man who'd managed to harass him throughout all of his childhood and years in training. Seifer was sitting at the edge of his armchair, rigid with tension, waiting for the verdict.

"The morning of the field exam," he said evenly. "After our fight."

Raising an eyebrow, Seifer needed a moment before Squall's words sank in. Before the war and after the spar that had landed them both with a scar for life. "After you fainted?" he asked, unable to curb the teasing grin that appeared on his lips.

Squall scowled. "Raijin?" he asked incredulously, not at all impressed with how Seifer had ditched him. To think all this time he'd thought Seifer had been the one to drop him off at the infirmary. No wonder the man's friends had never thought highly of him.

"He was our best bet," Seifer said with a shrug, still smiling. Nevermind that Quistis had told him off for it anyway. "I was in enough trouble as it was."

Squall huffed. At least that much was true. But Seifer hadn't stopped at that. He'd broken into his dorm, snooped through his things and made a mess of his spell inventory, and all the while a damning mental commentary had run through the blond's head. He couldn't quite quell the retroactive tug of anger he was feeling, however pointless.

"So how was it? Did you have fun experiencing the inner workings of this amazing brain?"

"It was enlightening," Squall replied dryly. "Like listening to a sailor's cussing non-stop." In the past few weeks he'd managed to forget how big of an ass Seifer used to be. But even so, he couldn't deny that throughout the memory there had been a palpable sense of concern underlying every curse and derogatory thought.

Seifer watched Squall carefully, wondering just what the man had gleaned from knowing his every thought like that. He couldn't even remember what had run through his head back then. At least Squall seemed to take it in stride, if a bit annoyed.

"So you couldn't access anything from the war?" he asked Ellone, eager to get on with things.

Ellone's smile faded, the question ruthlessly bringing the tense atmosphere crashing back down on them. "I tried, but when I got too close to the beginning of the war, it took me by surprise, so I sort of just dropped Squall in there." She cast both men an apologetic look. "At least now we know your memories before the war are unaffected. I think I could access any one of them... But I didn't get very far on testing the boundaries of the barrier."

"Okay," Seifer said, nodding. "So we try again? See if you can get more of a feel for the barrier?"

"If you're both ready," Ellone agreed. "It'll probably just be me trying and failing to get Squall anywhere, but it could still take a while."

"I'm ready." Seifer looked over to Squall.

Nodding, Squall moved to lie back down and closed his eyes, more confident than the first time around. The barrier was there, his hypothesis about to be proven true.

"Okay. Round number two," Ellone announced.

Taking deep, calming breaths, Squall waited in silence as time passed and nothing happened. He could hear the wringing of Seifer's hands against the leather armrests, a clear sign of the man's stress as Ellone tried to find him an entry point into the war. He refrained from speaking any reassurances. Not that much longer now, and they'd be able to put all of this behind them.

Bright light shocked through his eyes, catching him unprepared and filling him with panic as he was propelled forward, a torrent of dry hot air rushing into his face and lacerating his skin with abrasive sand. He tried to blink and clear his eyes, but the body he was in refused to heed his command. The mind he occupied jumped wildly between jittery, disconnected thoughts. Pure, unadulterated adrenaline coursed through his veins. He was on the run. He needed to get away.

Seifer's every single muscle pulled taut as he went off road, cutting into the desert at a maddening speed, away from the prison. He'd managed to get out; away from her. Every single second counted. His breathing was ragged, coming in too shallow and too quick. He felt like a hunted animal, every synapse in his body ready to fire at a moment's notice, the impressions of his surroundings frantic as his eyes flitted from point to point. His destination was coming into view. The canyon.

He winced as the memory of Squall restrained to that wall pushed back to the forefront of his thoughts. Electric crackling filled his ears and he bit down hard as he remembered the man's body jolting off the wall in a rigid arc.

The pleasure he'd felt at Squall's pain made him retch again. His stomach was already empty, but the heaving motions still brought bile to his mouth. He'd always viewed Squall as an equal. He'd known he'd miss him when he'd set off for Timber. And he'd fucking electrocuted him. He'd fucking gotten off on it. Wiping at his mouth, he forced the image away.

Another image took its place. His mistress at D-District. After Squall. Poised on a desk and spreading her legs. He'd been riding so high on the pain he'd inflicted that he'd already been hard. The slide into her had been slick. He clenched his fingers against the steering wheel. He'd fucking loved it and his release had been quick. It was only afterwards, when he'd pulled out and she'd tilted her head back with cutting laughter and disappeared again, that everything had felt wrong.

[No.]

Until that moment he'd never vomited over something he'd done.

He hadn't been able to bring himself to go back and check on Squall. He'd turned on everyone he'd ever known. He'd tortured Squall. He couldn't face what he'd done. He had to get out.

With the keys to an off-road ATV, he'd stolen his escape. He'd vowed never to do anything like that again. And there was only one way to make sure.

[Stop!]

The steep drop was only a couple of hundred yards away now. His eyes went wide, his teeth clenched, the bile still fresh on his tongue as he raced across the desert. Sweet fucking oblivion.

[Stop! Now!]

Only a split-second and he'd feel the drop. At least he'd go out with adrenaline pumping through his body; feel the high of flying. But then his right arm disobeyed him, seizing up with tremors before it spun the steering wheel around with a sharp jerk of muscles. He frantically tried to pull free of the possessed limb, but his right hand was clenched around the wheel in an unyielding, white-knuckled grip. The ATV skidded in the sand and turned away from the canyon, just a few steps short of his goal. Panic set in, his eyes burning with unshed tears. She wouldn't even let him have this.

/Vat is this?/

Ultimecia's disembodied voice sounded cruelly kind, cutting deep. She tutted her disapproval, as if reprimanding a child.

"Just fucking kill me," Seifer begged in between gasps, pulling at his frozen arm with desperate effort.

/Why would I do such a horrid thing? I adore you so./ She paid no heed to his sobs as the tendrils of her mind slid into his, poisoning everything she touched. /You had your fun. Now kome back to me./

The will to resist bled from him slowly, killing any hope of escape. He fell slack into the driver's seat, his mind awash with fear and confusion as he sank away.

Trapped and suddenly alone, Squall tried to fight against the nauseating, oppressive aura of the sorceress. He struggled to reach Seifer with all his might, but the man's mind was already receding into the shadows of Ultimecia's looming presence. Instead, all of that taint slowly turned its focus on him, causing cold dread to take hold of him.

Ultimecia could see him.

In that moment he had absolutely no doubt this was real. Not just a harmless revisiting of a memory that existed only in Seifer's mind, but a very real and alive Ultimecia staring at him intently across the spans of time. Just as real as when their gazes had been locked on the battlefield. The surge of intense hatred would have knocked him to his knees if it wasn't for his lack of form in this realm.

/I see you got to the girl before I kould./ Her voice was broadcast directly into his mind with the force of a sledgehammer to his skull. /Did you enjoy my Knight torturing you? Have you enjoyed his distress? Do not fret. He will kapture you again and I will take great pleasure in watching him take you apart./

With that parting message, she shoved him out of Seifer's head and reeling back into his own body. Sucking in a greedy gasp for air, his heartbeat battering against his chest erratically, Squall veered upright and stared straight into the fireplace.

"Squall?" Ellone's voice sounded thin, uncertain. "...What was that?"

Exerting conscious effort not to let out a trembling breath, Squall told himself to get a hold of himself, to reassert control. He tried to shut out the irrational fear that the sorceress could've followed through whatever pathway Ellone had created, that she could still get to Seifer. He focused and kept still, but couldn't sense any unnatural presence. His gaze darted to Ellone's eyes. They were their usual dark brown, not even a hint of yellow detectable. The danger had passed.

And then the rest sank in.

He'd known Seifer had tried to take his own life. Seifer had told him in not too many words. But now he had a damningly complete understanding of why Seifer had chosen to go down that path. Now he'd felt every raw, jagged emotion that had driven the man to the edge of that ravine. It was impossible to relegate the vivid experience to the past when the shock of adrenaline still thumped through his veins.

He'd only just managed to throw around that steering wheel.

Aware of the two sets of eyes on him, Squall ransacked his brain for an explanation that wouldn't immediately have Seifer make good on his promise to leave. He hadn't expected this, hadn't prepared a fallback plan for this kind of outcome.

"Squall," Ellone prompted a second time.

Lifting his legs off the couch, Squall spared Ellone's worried expression a brief glance before turning to face Seifer. The man's face was drawn, as if expecting the worst.

"Hear me out."

Instantly frowning, Seifer kept Squall's gaze. It had to be bad for Squall to say that, for Ellone's reaction to be like that.

"Ultimecia's mind control caused the barrier. I still believe that," Squall emphasized, "but we overlooked something." He paused, looking for a phrasing that wouldn't immediately betray everything to Ellone. "...The few times she withdrew her influence over you."

Seifer narrowed his eyes. Squall meant the times he'd felt remorseful. "What did you see?" he demanded, disliking Squall's evasive words. He'd reach his own damned conclusions.

"Shennard Canyon."

The admission had Seifer out of his armchair instantly, Squall following closely after, but the blond stopped at the fireplace, placing his back to him. The man wasn't running—yet.

"It lasted a minute at most until she took over." Some of the dread Squall had felt crept into his voice. "One second you were there, the next... gone." He'd been absolutely powerless to stop it.

Seifer stared at the flames. He hated Squall seeing what he had. He knew what had been on his mind then; things he hadn't intended for anyone to ever find out.

Glancing between the two men, Ellone frowned. "I don't understand... Isn't this a good thing?" She paused, grimacing at her words. "Hyne, I mean, I know it can't have been good. I felt that... that thing again, but if it confirms our theory—" She turned her gaze on Squall, trying to make sense of things with what little she was allowed to know. "It sounds like you witnessed Ultimecia take control of him. Isn't that what we're trying to prove?"

That was exactly what Squall thought he'd witnessed, but he knew he needed to relay what he'd experienced objectively and without assumptions. Seifer was stubborn enough not to accept any other rendering of the facts. "He was in control for a brief while. When she returned it was like she just made him... disappear." He paused, bringing his voice under tight control. "Ultimecia knew I was there. She threw me out."

The frown on Seifer's brow grew. He turned to face Squall. "She felt you?"

"She saw me. Knew who I was," Squall clarified, unable to hide his aversion. "I don't think she realized she's dead in the time I'm from." He faced Ellone, the woman clearly stricken by his words. "Your powers, they aren't just a recollection of the past. They're a connection to the past. It's real."

"Like time-travel?" Seifer asked, incredulous.

Ellone shook her head. "That's not possible. It's not time travel if you can't affect things. You're just watching."

"Then why did two sorceresses try to capture you at all costs? Ultimecia affected me," Squall countered, hesitating before adding, "I affected Seifer."

That earned him a scrunched brow from Ellone. "How? It just doesn't work that way, Squall. I've tried endlessly to change things, and I always failed. Always."

Squall glanced Seifer's way. This was becoming more and more difficult to explain without the specifics. "I didn't change the past. It already happened. My influence was minor but it was supposed to happen." Watching Ellone's unconvinced expression, he was about to try another angle when Seifer cut him off.

"Just what did you do?"

"I threw the steering wheel around," Squall said after a moment's deliberation, holding the blond's gaze.

"You did that?" Seifer asked, even more incredulous than before. He barely registered Squall's nod. The implications were too big. If what Squall was saying was true... "It felt like Ultimecia to me."

Squall frowned. To him, Ultimecia had felt vile. "It wasn't. She arrived seconds too late. Ultimecia didn't help you. She suffocated you."

"That wasn't help," Seifer said, his voice harsh. "I made my choice."

The accusation was like a slap to the face. Squall's expression grew blank as he floundered between anger and denial. He hadn't expected Seifer to still stand by his past 'choice'. Did the man still think about it, even now?

He squared his jaw. "I didn't have any." It had been a reflex, born from pure desperation. Choosing between letting Seifer live or die wasn't a choice at all. "I couldn't just sit back and watch."

His fists growing tense, Seifer restrained his urge to punch the brunet. He doesn't know what you went through. You would have done the same. Closing his eyes, focusing on his breathing, he tried to push the resentment away, but he couldn't rein in the words. "So instead you forced me to live through it all."

"I forced you?" Squall echoed weakly, his chest constricting as Seifer finally blamed him for everything.

Seifer's voice was low and seething. "You could have prevented it."

"I should have," Squall agreed slowly, his throat tight with the confession, "but not like that."

"There wasn't any other way. It was a simple solution and it would have worked."

"I could have taken you back to Garden. Away from her."

Seifer narrowed his eyes at the determination behind the words, as if Squall actually believed what he was saying. "You didn't have any choice. I fought you. She knew where I was at all times. You dragging me away somewhere wouldn't have changed that. She would've put a stop to it. You did the only thing you could."

"Apart from killing you?" Squall exclaimed, voice raw. He shook his head. "Garden has magic wards and perimeters, cells if necessary. We could've contained you, kept you safe until we defeated her." The words left him in a rush and as he spoke them, he realized their futility. He'd played this game of what-ifs and could-haves one time too many.

"You can't really believe that." Seifer said, watching the brunet carefully. "You're not that fucking naive."

"I didn't have to fight you."

"One big flaw there Squall. You couldn't have fought Ultimecia unless you fought me too." Seifer's voice was gaining volume again. "You saved the whole fucking world. You ended it. "

Squall huffed. He didn't need this hero crap, least of all from Seifer. Countless lives had been lost under his command. He'd come so close to killing Seifer more than once. Nothing he said now could change the choices he'd made. To discuss it so heatedly now was a sentiment offered far too late.

"Don't do that. Don't ever fucking downplay it."

Dropping his hand from where he was rubbing at his brow, Squall met the blond's gaze tiredly. "It wasn't a one person effort, Seifer. I made mistakes."

"All that matters is the end result."

Squall nodded slowly, the reply at least suiting his purposes. "The end result isn't finished yet." He knew now that he'd influenced the past enough to make a difference. Enough to save Seifer's life. He might have to do it again. This was the only chance he'd get. "Do I need to go back?"

"No." Seifer didn't even have to consider it. There was no way he'd let Squall back into the past during the war. No way he'd risk Ultimecia sinking her claws into Squall.

At the predictable refusal, Squall stepped closer with a slight frown. "I may already have gone back."

Seifer held Squall's gaze. "Whatever we decide now—you going back again or not—I will survive. I'm here now. You on the other hand… What if Ultimecia figures out how to hurt you? You might not come back."

Squall frowned at that bit of reasoning. "We don't know if it works that way. Consequences in the present could become undone if we don't set them in motion in the first place." His gut twisted cold at the thought. Would Seifer disappear? Maybe the present would simply be transplanted with a new one where the man had gotten his wish, not even a memory left from the past few weeks. "Answer my question. Did I go back?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know? I told you, it felt like Ultimecia to me," Seifer said, unable to think of any instances when Squall might have been there. If Squall's theory was right, Squall wouldn't have been able to enter the past for more than a few instances during the war. "Look... There's only one other time when I managed to try something and I can pretty much guarantee it wasn't you who saved me. It took healing, and lots of it. Unless you can whip up a Full-Life while you're inside my head, I think we can safely rule that one out."

The blunt answer didn't bring Squall the relief he'd hoped for. A Full-Life. That meant Seifer had gotten as far as hurting himself, badly. "We can't rule anything out," he replied urgently, not willing to play guessing games. "I could have made you cast the spell. You must have carried Full-Life spells back then."

"It would've been too late for me to cast it, so it couldn't have been you." He watched Squall's gaze drop to his chest, the brunet's expression going stark as he connected the dots. "I'm not putting you at risk. We can still prove it by you seeing something after the war and me checking if your memories are intact during your time as a knight."

Gaze lingering on where he knew a scar ran, deep and lethal, Squall had a hard time accepting Seifer's even tone. Whatever had happened, it had been worse than the memory he'd just seen. An old anger rekindled his temper, one that had been dulled ever since he'd watched Ultimecia die a pitiful death at his feet.

"I should have made her suffer," he said lowly.

Seifer took a step closer to Squall. He didn't know how Ultimecia had died in the end, how things had gone down. He hadn't wished a painless death on her either. He'd always hoped it would've been slow. That she had been made to pay for all the suffering she'd caused.

But he also knew Squall wasn't one to prolong the inevitable, that it would've been clean and quick. Not knowing the details was better. And he was actually starting to believe Squall's theory; that he'd been manipulated all along. If they could get the last proof they needed, he could blame and hate Ultimecia for all the things she'd made him do. He could finally try and let go of his past for good. He stepped closer again, following Squall's gaze as it rose to meet his own. "Let's finish this."

The words brought Squall back into the present, the visions of revenge dissipating as Seifer's eyes bored into his. Ultimecia was dead and Seifer wasn't. Regretting the past wasn't of any use to the man. Slowly, he nodded.

"You sure you two don't need a break?" Ellone asked, eyeing the two men worriedly. Her eyes had misted over as she'd watched their argument unfold, their every word revealing just how much damage had been done. She didn't want to upset anybody any further, let alone accidentally land Squall right in Ultimecia's hands.

Shaking his head, Squall moved to lie down on the couch again, this time steeling himself for any possible outcome.

"Keep it recent," Seifer instructed.

"I'll do my best," Ellone said with a small nod, praying she wouldn't disappoint. Sitting back down, she turned her gaze on Squall. "Okay, here goes."

Closing his eyes and preparing himself for the third time, Squall tried to push away the fear that he'd be landed in another memory of the war. Their experiment wouldn't survive another one of those. His only option was to put his faith in Ellone. At least he was certain she was completely aware of the risks this time around. She'd keep away from the barrier, from the war. There was nothing he could do but witness events as they unfolded.

His frustration grew palpable and sharp, resonating with Seifer's as he jolted into the past. He was at the SCTA training grounds, eager to unleash his full potential, to move and fight, but he was forced to temper himself. His right hand was closed around a gunblade that was too light to be his own, his moves jarringly slow as he knocked his opponent's blade out of their hands.

Calder's blade skidded along the gravel, leaving yet another pause in their fight. Seifer raised an eyebrow. That was the second time he'd disarmed Calder and he hadn't even tried that hard. After tasting what real sparring was like again, he was losing patience with whatever this was fast. He ran a hand through his hair. He should have arranged to spar with Squall tonight instead. Why had he said yes to Calder again? Squall could have come in to meet him at the SCTA instead of staying back at his apartment. Probably would've worked wonders in taking the edge off his annoyance at having to deal with Quistis later as well. Hell, just sneaking in some time to feel Squall up would have improved his mood by miles. But instead he'd agreed to this. He sighed.

"Come on." He jerked his head in the direction of the man's blade. "Focus." He didn't believe in cutting people any slack; not with his students and not with Calder.

The man nodded at him, at least willing to try. But there was no bite to Calder's moves, no speed as they picked up their spar again. He was forced to hold back. Calder managed to parry a few of his blows, but then the man had to leap aside to avoid being hit when he brought down Kronos a tad too swiftly. Calder hadn't even attempted to parry it.

Seifer furrowed his brow and stepped back as he gave the man a moment to recover. If it had been Squall, they would already have been at it again. "Focus," he repeated when Calder resumed his stance.

A hint of uncertainty had crept into the man's features, but Calder readied himself regardless and gave another nod. As they ran towards each other, Seifer forced himself to push away his annoyance and went into instructor mode, keeping his every move predictable and tempered. There was no enjoyment to be had from this, but he'd promised Calder a spar before he went off to Galbadia and it was too late to go back on his word. More than that, he'd totally and utterly ignored the man for the past week, ever since Rinoa had come knocking on his door and they'd tracked down Squall. Even though Calder had a ridiculous amount of patience, he knew it would run out sooner or later. The sheer number of calls he'd gotten just that weekend was enough of a clue.

He huffed inwardly at the realization that none of his brain power was actually used on the fighting. The barest of instinct was enough to parry attacks or force Calder to retreat. Boring and sedate. That was all it was. All his enthusiasm left him. It would be hard to settle for this when Squall had to return to his missions. Distracted by the unwelcome thought, he forgot to temper his next blow. Calder's blade twisted aside harshly, breaking the rhythm of their spar.

Staring at his exhausted sparring partner, he waited for Calder to raise his blade anew and ran towards him again. The man parried and for a while they exchanged blows until he accidentally managed to disarm the man for the third time.

He shook his head with a sigh. "You're usually better than this." He clung to that small hope even though he knew it was much more likely that it was just his own perception that had changed. Calder only shrugged in reply. It was clear the man had already caught on to the fact that this wasn't anything like their normal spars. Something had changed. Forcing the tip of Kronos into the gravel, Seifer rested his hand on the handle. "Time to call it a night, I'd say."

Calder retrieved his blade and came over to stand in front of him. "There's still half an hour until your class," the man said after sparing his wristwatch a glance.

Still wanting to get a sweat on, Seifer lifted Kronos and turned around to leave. "Then let's hit the gym."

"Wait."

"What's up?" Seifer asked with a raised eyebrow as he turned back around to meet the brunet's gaze.

The man shrugged. "You're off soon. Last chance for me to sate my curiosity," he said with a slight smile.

Seifer chuckled lowly. "So?"

Calder leveled him with a scrutinizing expression before speaking. "Have you always been holding back on me? When we spar?"

"Of course," Seifer said outright. "I'm one of the best gunbladers out there. What did you think?"

Calder shook his head and huffed. "What about him?"

The implication of who 'him' meant was clear. There was only one other person he'd been sparring with as of late. "He wins once in a while," he said with a smirk.

"You're insufferable."

"One of my better traits, I've been told."

Calder chuckled. "That and being able to stay hard for more than one go."

The smirk on Seifer's lips widened. He'd always had a weakness for when Calder played into his ego.

A moment of silence passed between them as Calder's smile grew more wistful. "Will we be able to spar again?"

"Yeah. We did before." He'd learn how to deal with it again even if it wouldn't be anything like when he faced off with Squall. "It's still a decent work-out."

"Thanks," Calder scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "You really know how to soften the blow."

Seifer shrugged. He always called things exactly as he saw them. "Not my fault you were trained in Esthar."

"Am I going to have to start taking that Garden-elitist bullshit from you, now?"

"It's not bullshit when it's the truth."

Calder rolled his eyes again, before growing contemplative. "You think there's a chance I can ever watch you and him spar?"

Seifer chuckled and shook his head. "Nope, not a chance in hell." Squall definitely wouldn't be up for it. The man had always been averse to an audience, and hadn't even made an exception for his own dad. Good thing he'd been there to intercede. No father should be denied such pride.

"We're still going on that hunt when you get back though, right?"

"Sure," Seifer said, already eager at the prospect. Before, he'd only planned on showing Nolan the different items used when fighting monsters that cast magic, but now that he was able to use magic again, he had a whole other show in mind. He'd blow Calder and Nolan's minds. "I'll show you some magic. Maybe even a GF."

"Really?" Calder asked, perking up. "Nolan is going to worship you even more."

Seifer chuckled. "And you?"

Calder snorted out loud. "As if."

Unable to quell his amusement at the expense of the two Madar brothers, Seifer recalled the all-encompassing hero worship Nolan had for a certain commander. "Nolan would piss himself if he knew who he tried to pick a fight with last Friday," he said with a laugh, imagining the look of sheer mortification on Nolan's face.

Calder laughed as well, then shook his head. "It's still too weird."

"You'll get used to it." Seifer had no doubt Calder would take it in stride. In the years he'd known Calder, nothing had ruffled the man. Calder hadn't even freaked out when finding out that Rinoa was a sorceress or when watching him draw a Guardian Force.

"So where are you off to in Galbadia?"

"Obel Lake. That's where we'll meet up with Rai and Fu. First we're going to stop in Winhill though, to visit Squall's sister." Just under two weeks ago he'd complained to Calder about his fuckup with Avalanche, about how he'd thought he'd seduced a one hundred percent straight man, and now said man was taking him across continents to meet his sister and see his native town. If that didn't come with bragging rights, then he didn't know what did.

"He has a family?" Calder asked, quirking a brow. "I'm sure I heard that he was an orphan."

Seifer nodded, the same being true for most cadets at Garden back then. "He only found out recently. A dad and a sister."

"What about his mom?"

"She died. A long time ago."

"And now you're going on holiday to visit his dad and sister?" Calder asked, his eyebrows climbing even higher.

"Just his sister. His dad lives here in Esthar." It took all of Seifer's willpower to stomp out the gigantic smile that threatened to break free at just who Squall's dad was.

"You met his dad?"

The maddening urge to grin won out. "Had dinner with both of them just last night."

"So that's what the suit was for." Calder shook his head and let out a low whistle. "I thought you had it bad, but this definitely takes the cake." He laughed softly. "I have to say, you never struck me as the type to have dinner with the in-laws or tag along for a family visit. I really don't know what to expect anymore. End of the world?"

Seifer just smirked even more widely. "Perhaps."

"Well, enjoy your honeymoon."

Seifer rolled his eyes, but it quickly turned into a shit-eating grin. He would enjoy every single second of having Squall to himself. In Winhill and during their hunt, he'd make sure to make Squall pant and squirm in pleasure every chance he got. Nothing beat that look of ecstasy on Squall's face or the sight of soft moist lips when they let out hitching breaths. Too fucking addictive. "I will," he said at length, trying and failing to temper his grin. "I'm sure you won't be keeping idle either. Which reminds me, I still have eight pills for you."

Calder quirked an eyebrow. "You haven't taken any since?"

"No." There was no way he'd take Avalanche with Squall again. At least not anytime soon. Not after that first fucking atrocious night. "Just take the rest. They're where I usually keep them."

"Appreciated," Calder said before laughing softly. "So no drugs and no sleeping around." He shook his head as he clicked his tongue. "Seems the Commander isn't just good at keeping his troops in line. What's next? A chastity belt?"

The words rubbed Seifer entirely the wrong way. "I can fuck whoever I like."

"Which is entirely beside the point when you don't want to."

Reminded of Squall's lean but muscular body and perfectly shaped ass, Seifer couldn't object.

Calder smiled. "Point made."

"Point taken."

"Well, whenever you're back, give me a call," Calder said, hoisting his blade over his shoulder, getting ready to go.

"Will do," Seifer said, relieved they were able to make this new balance between them work, despite the lack of sex or satisfying spars. It would seem that with Squall around everything else was quickly losing its appeal.

"Take care, Seif'."

Seifer nodded in return, watching the man leave. When Calder was out of sight, he glanced at his phone. He still had time to kill. Enough to finally get a sweat on.

Falling into a frenzied warm up, moving as fast as he could, he lunged as hard as possible while throwing all his weight and strength behind his attacks. It felt much closer to his spars with Squall. Especially when he imagined using the very same moves that had brought out that fiery look in gray-blue eyes. He still couldn't help but wish that he'd blown Calder off for another spar with Squall. In less than three hours he'd be squaring off with Quistis. For the first time since the war. He grimaced. Trust their good old instructor to come and ruin things.

Forcing away all thoughts of the confrontation to come, he focused on executing each move perfectly and gave himself over to what would probably be the last peaceful moment of his day.

Seifer's thoughts faded away, the chilly Esthar evening replaced with the warm interior of Ellone's living room. His muscles no longer burned with exertion, but itched with pins and needles after lying paralyzed for so long.

"What did you see?"

Delaying his answer to Seifer's question, Squall sat up in the couch and stared past him, into the fire. He wasn't ready yet to face the man. He was still processing what he'd seen, the implications hitting him one after the other. How had he been so blind? Keeping his expression carefully even, he lifted his gaze and replied in a non-committal tone.

"Your spar with Calder. Before Quistis's visit."

Recalling some of what had been said after his spar with Calder, Seifer frowned as he studied Squall more closely. Squall's reply was way too dispassionate considering what the memory had brought to light. Who Calder was to him. Or had been. Shit. At least Squall hadn't seen them fucking. Some lewd banter at worst. But even though he didn't like the detached quality to Squall's reaction at all, there was no way he was going to start explaining things, not in front of Ellone and definitely not now.

"So things add up so far," he said, feeling none of the elation he was supposed to at this point.

"I knew they would," Ellone said with a tentative smile, trying not to be disheartened by the strained atmosphere. Whatever her brother had seen, it had caused him to retreat behind a painfully blank expression, yet Seifer wasn't saying anything. Who the hell was Calder?

"You're up next, Seifer," she added when neither man spoke or moved.

Squall couldn't muster Ellone's optimism as he stood up from the couch. He was struggling to push away the confusing muddle of his thoughts. At first the memory had seemed benign enough. The knowledge that no one could take his place as Seifer's sparring partner, not truly, had been gratifying at first. He'd felt little sympathy for Calder as Seifer had knocked the man's blade out of his hand time after time.

He hadn't seen the rest coming at all.

Suppressing a frown, he went to sit in the unoccupied armchair, leaving the couch free for Seifer. He needed to focus. Whatever he'd seen, it had no bearing on their purpose here. He tried to convince himself nothing had changed, but the chaos in his head suggested otherwise.

Not for the first time since Seifer's reappearance in his life, he felt like a fool. He'd been oblivious about Seifer's sexuality despite their night on Avalanche, and apparently he'd been oblivious about Calder as well. No wonder the man's little brother disliked him so openly. He was an interloper. An intruder. Calder himself had been remarkably civil with him, considering the situation. The man's presence in Seifer's apartment when he'd first come to made a lot more sense now. He'd been the one out of place, not Calder.

He tried and failed to make sense of the relationship between the two men. He'd known from the start that Seifer never let his bed grow cold for long, but he'd never guessed for there to be an element of stability in the man's ways. Someone closer than a mere friend. A lover. Companionship free of jealousy, unburdened by a heavy past, where talk of drugs and sex and other partners was commonplace. A relationship that felt like it could be picked up right where it had been left off the moment Seifer lost interest in any sidetracks. Was that why Calder had seemed so unconcerned with Seifer's disloyalty? Was this normal for them? How could Seifer's thoughts about him feel so sincere, when at the same time the man was talking to a lover so casually?

A niggling sense of betrayal intruded on his thoughts. Why hadn't Seifer told him?

"So, a memory from your time as a knight, right?"

Looking up, he met Ellone's gaze before managing a belated nod. Seifer had already moved to lie down on the couch, his eyes closed and his brow set in a tense scowl. The sight was sobering, reminding Squall of what was at stake. His feelings mattered nothing at all. Compared to what he'd felt and seen at Shennard Canyon, Seifer's relationship with his sparring partner and lover was nothing.

"Stay away from the war," he reminded Ellone sternly. His memories of the war wouldn't be obstructed, and he wasn't willing to find out whether Ultimecia would be able to sense Seifer's presence in a mind she wasn't occupying. "And Time Compression," he added, not even wanting to entertain the possibility of landing Seifer in that nightmare world or the void that had followed it.

"I will," came Ellone's focused reply. "Trust me."

"Time Compression?" Seifer asked, frowning as he looked up at Ellone. This was the first he'd heard of it, and he wasn't in the mood for surprises.

"Don't worry, there's no way I'll lose you in there," Ellone reassured. "I can tell it apart clearly. It's this weird stretch of endlessness that intersects with Squall's normal memories. It's easy to avoid."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Not now," Squall interrupted with a frown. Seifer didn't know how they'd defeated Ultimecia, let alone how he'd been stuck in Time Compression. What had been a mere week to everyone else had felt like an eternity to him. It was a memory he'd rather not dwell on, and to tell Seifer now wouldn't exactly relax the man either. "I can explain later."

"It poses no danger to you. I'll make sure of it," Ellone chimed in. "Just relax."

Not feeling very reassured, Seifer clenched his jaw. Whatever Time Compression was, he didn't like the sound of it one bit. And he hated not knowing whatever the fuck it had done to Squall to mess up the man's memories like that. What did Ellone mean when she said they stretched on endlessly? He glanced over at Squall, but the man still didn't meet his gaze, just looked determined as fuck. Shit.

Trying to force his thoughts under control, he breathed in deeply. "So I just clear my head or what?"

"That's not necessary for my side of things," Ellone reassured. "But it might help you to make the transition more easily. Just do what's most comfortable for you."

"Okay. Hit me."

Taking in a deep breath, Seifer focused on the quiet of the room and the feel of the couch beneath him. He tried to ground himself in the moment, readying himself for the coming change. He kept his breathing even, until suddenly it came in hard and fast. He was hunting, all senses attuned to the snowy landscape around him.

Lungs burning, Squall stood panting amidst the carnage he'd just inflicted. He paid no heed to the corpses of dead wolves strewn around him, steam rising into the chill winter air from their still warm entrails. Eyes ahead, he scoured the clearing's edge for a subtle blur of movement, a flash of eyes beyond the forest's underbrush, but all was still. Blood pumping fast, he waited a few more heartbeats, the soft sway of pine branches in the wind the only movement around him.

/Shiva?/

Still in his mind like a leave on a pond, poised and ready to act swiftly, Shiva brushed a negative reply against his thoughts. Relaxing his hold on Lion Heart, Squall straightened. These had been the last of the beast's watch dogs then.

Pulling free one foot that had sunk deep into wet snow and mud, he took stock of his condition. A scattering of claw marks covered his body, his jacket in tatters and letting through the cold sting of winter. Inconsequential. The large bite mark just above his right knee however... Stretching his leg, fresh blood oozed from the ragged flesh and soaked his pants further. At least the leg was still holding his weight.

He took quick inventory of his magic, only to scowl at the surrounding Trabian woods. He was stocked to capacity on ice magic, but had had no luck finding any curative magic in this place. The last of his high end spells had been drained three packs of wolves ago, most of them having gone to the ambushed villagers and his now missing party members. He couldn't afford to waste his last Cura on a bum leg.

Drawing on his link with Shiva instead, he directed her numbing cold to the wound. Muscles spasmed painfully and his flesh chilled to an unhealthy blue hue, but the blood loss slowed to an acceptable level. A trick he'd learned during the civil war, one he knew he'd pay for later. With the shredded remains of his jacket he tied off the wound as best as he could.

After a few testing steps, he returned his focus to the tracks he'd been following. It was ruined now, the fresh layer of snow in the clearing reduced to a sludge of dirt and blood, but he remembered the direction. He'd strayed too far to make it somewhere safe before nightfall, the sun no longer visible above the trees. Late afternoon, he guessed. The ominous lack of small forest critters and birds told him the beast was near, stalking him. The only way open to him was forward.

Leaving the clearing behind him, Squall stepped back into the dense forest and let his eyes adjust to the near dark. His senses sharpened through junction upon junction, he listened out for any sound that would betray the beast's location, but there was only the soft crisp of frozen forest soil beneath his boots, the occasional snap of twigs as he moved onwards. His breath no longer lingered on the air, flecks of snow clinging to his skin instead of melting.

If ice was the only resource he could find in these woods, then he would use it. He would become the cold itself. He could feel Shiva's approval, her power thrumming in his mind with a promise that spoke of collapsing glaciers and deadly avalanches. Together they advanced, drawing closer and closer to the beast's den.

After spotting the first frozen carcass of a deer, half-eaten, he quickly found and tracked a narrow but well-defined trail that led deeper into the forest. Gnawed bones were littered about as he approached a south-facing hollow in a hill. Far too large for a normal wolf.

Keeping his eyes on the ground, he feigned a closer study of several abnormally large paw marks. The hulking shadow that had followed him all the way from the clearing drew closer, flanking his right-hand side. It slunk between the trees, its head low against the forest soil. Calm and controlled breaths of air rushed into immense lungs, only barely audible to his amplified hearing. He inched his hand closer to Lion Heart, readying a Blizzaga as he slowly swung his gaze toward the beast.

Great glowing eyes stared back at him.

He sprinted away just as the feral Guardian Force leaped out at him, missing him by a hair's breadth. The beast's angry snarl echoed through the forest, but there was no flight of startled birds. There were no living creatures here but him and the wolf. Throwing the Blizzaga he'd readied in the beast's path, he rushed toward higher ground atop the den. The ice magic barely slowed it, the wolf stalking around him in a wide circle, its hackles raised. Its head was level with him despite his position. The low, menacing growls promised a swift death.

He was ready when it lunged at him, deflecting the wild snap of teeth with his gunblade. The impact of it shocked through his arms, but he remained standing. The wolf retreated with a snarl, a stream of blood turning its bared teeth into a ghastly grin. It took all of his junctioned strength to keep the beast at bay as it circled him, harassing him with attacks that were meant to test the limit of his abilities. The beast had no desire for another slash in its muzzle.

He launched his own barrage of attacks whenever there was an opening, but his Blizzaga spells sank no further than the wolf's fur, doing no more harm than turning its coarse hairs into a spiky, frosty coat. He had no other high tier elemental spells left, only ice.

As if sensing his thoughts, the wolf bared its teeth in a mocking snarl and shook itself wildly, showering him with a spray of razor-sharp flints of ice. Several droplets of blood welled up from cuts on his face. It had been a fruitless attack, meant only to humiliate him. It was a show of intelligence he hadn't known to ascribe to the beast until now.

Narrowing his eyes, he changed tactics and abandoned his position. He ran down the far side of the den, into the forest where the trees were thickest, slinging out just enough Blizzagas in his wake to keep the wolf from catching up and finishing him off. He weaved wildly between the towering tree trunks, using the dense growth to his advantage. The heavy impact of paws thudding against the forest soil sounded out behind him, rushing towards him. Drawing on his every last reserve, he only barely managed to outpace the beast despite his unnatural speed aided by magic.

He kicked off hard to leap over a small forest stream, the lack of cover almost giving the beast the opening it needed to end him. He ducked down and rolled behind the first tree on the other side just in time, a loud splintering of wood followed by heavy, panting breaths as the beast scrambled up and launched its first magic attack. The cutting torrent of ice was deafening and almost forced him to the ground upon impact, but the cold of it did nothing. Letting out an infuriated snarl, the wolf immediately hit him with another one, stronger this time.

Straightening the moment the barrage subsided, Squall kept his eyes on the beast as it retreated to draw a wider circle around him, disappearing and appearing from behind the trees. He could feel its anger, its impatience for the kill. Holding the wolf's wild-eyed gaze, he made a show of shaking out his hair, dislodging the ice that had frosted it white.

/Insolent human. Prey dares to challenge Fenrir? The king of these woods?/

The bestial voice shook with deep, guttural growls, emanating from everywhere around him.

"I dare," he called out, holding out his gunblade.

At his challenge, the wolf changed its path and leaped straight at him in a head-on attack. He held his ground, channeling all of his strength into his blade. He dug in his feet and twisted to turn the attack aside, but the slam of a Stop spell ground his momentum to a halt, leaving his right side exposed.

Teeth tore through his arm, savaging it and knocking his blade from his hold before the beast jumped away again to gloat. It took all he had to remain still and standing when his resistances and buffs repelled the status effect within seconds after the spell had hit. Not even Shiva's ice could stop the blood that was running down his arm, staining the snow beneath him red.

/Can't move?/ the wolf mocked, stalking slowly closer. /Shall I honor you? Shall I devour your flesh?/

He didn't move a muscle, didn't even blink, not wanting to alert the beast. The thick blanket of fresh snow obscured the rivulets of ice he was drawing towards himself. The wolf let out a victorious howl before it returned its attention to him, its pink tongue lolling and drooling saliva as it sauntered to his side. He waited until the beast stepped over him and lowered its great head, close enough for the stench of its breath to brush against his face. With a swift jerk he thrust his uninjured arm up into the air. A large pillar of ice followed, jagged and sharp as it rushed upward, piercing the wolf's skull with a crack and squelch.

Ducking aside, he watched as the beast stared down at him balefully, a deluge of blood sluicing down the sides of its head before the Guardian Force burst into a bright shower of light that surged toward him. Foreign magic flooded him, burrowing into his brain and leaving him gasping for air.

/Trickery./

"Tactics," Squall corrected the voice that now resided in his head.

Grinning at the GF's surly snort that resounded inside Squall's mind, Seifer felt the switch back into his own body more clearly as the icy surroundings gave way to the warmth of Ellone's living room. It had been one hell of a ride to take part in Squall's fight against the Trabian GF, Squall's every move calculated and precise. And the victory had been sweet, despite the multitude of wounds he'd shared with Squall at the end.

He'd always been right about the man. No one else compared.

Opening his eyes to the soft glow of the fire reflected against the wooden ceiling, he took a deep breath to root himself more firmly in the present. The immediacy of the memory had taken him off guard. He'd been submerged in Squall's past so completely, there'd hardly been room for any thought of his own. Even now, the rush of adrenaline was slow to dissipate and it was jarring to find himself back here, in this messed up situation, when all he wanted was to return to those Trabian woodlands.

He forced himself to sit up, his eyes immediately seeking out Squall. "Fenrir."

Letting out the breath he'd been holding, Squall sat back as some of his tension left him. A mission. A successful one too, long after the war and Ultimecia's death. He met and held Seifer's gaze. "I was bonded then."

Seifer nodded, having expected as much. He scratched at his chin, having a hard time collecting his thoughts. They'd done it. They'd actually fucking done it.

"Uhm..." Ellone started, looking between the two men uncertainly.

"What?" Squall asked with a furrowed brow.

Ellone bit her lip, hesitating. "Well... It was very brief. I almost missed it. But... there was something that felt off." She steeled herself as Squall's expression darkened. "It felt like—well, not as bad as Ultimecia... I think I could get through."

Seifer frowned, then looked over at Squall. "Did Ultimecia try something during the war?"

Squall shook his head at the disturbing thought. "Not that I know of."

"It's after the memory Seifer just saw," Ellone pointed out quickly. "I couldn't make out much more than that."

"Rinoa then?" Seifer asked grimly.

"...I don't know," Ellone said cautiously, glancing at Squall. Despite what she'd heard about Rinoa's struggle with her powers, she had trouble likening the sweet woman to someone as depraved as Ultimecia.

Squall leaned forward in his seat as he considered the possibilities. There were several instances where Rinoa had lost control over her powers, or worse, her own mind. Any one of those could have left a trace in their bond.

"Any time she did a number on you? Messed with your head?" Seifer asked, already feeling his anger stir.

Raising his eyes to meet Seifer's, Squall didn't immediately answer. "The bond was unobtrusive most of the time," he replied slowly, reluctant to share any of it. "Nothing like what Ultimecia did."

"We should check it out," Seifer said firmly. "If it's got nothing to do with the bond, then we've been doing this shit for nothing."

Squall's brow knitted into a frown. Unobtrusive most of the time didn't mean all of the time. Rinoa had rummaged through his thoughts plenty of times. Towards the end, she'd often shouted her emotions and thoughts directly into his mind. Whatever anomaly Ellone had detected, it would most likely end up with Seifer seeing something as personal and humiliating as Rinoa making a playground out of his head. Those instances had never stood separately from their relationship, from the feelings they'd held for each other, good or bad.

Looking Seifer's way, he let out a resigned sigh. He couldn't refuse the exposure purely out of selfish reasons, not when Seifer had trusted him with his own past, and he wouldn't let anything cast doubt over the theory they'd come so close to confirming. "We need to make sure."

Moving to lie back on the couch, Seifer couldn't let go of the tension that was flooding him, the dread of what he was about to see. Would it be Rinoa that had caused the blip in Squall's memories? Or would there be no fucking reason at all? Would it undo everything they'd just fucking proven?

There was only one way to know.

Waiting for Ellone, he shut his eyes and tried to prepare himself. His heart rate quickened, his muscles clenching uselessly in readiness for danger, but the tension in his body gave way to exhaustion as he awoke to familiar scents and safety; safer than he'd been in days.

Opening his eyes, Squall let out a deep breath and wondered what had woken him. Slow to take in the sight of his quarters, he pushed up and rubbed at his neck. After weeks of sleeping under makeshift shelters, out in the field or under the stars, the couch was too soft to his liking.

"When did you get back?"

His gaze traveled toward the now open bedroom door, where Rinoa stood dressed in one of his old training sweats, her hair tussled with sleep. Ignoring the surprise in her voice, still too bone-weary for an argument, he swung his feet to the floor. "Two am."

"I thought I told you to wake me up when you got in," she admonished, her fine eyebrows curling into a frown as she walked over.

"It was late," he said with a shrug, moving away from her and towards the small kitchenette. "I didn't want to disturb you."

Rubbing at bleary eyes, she followed and came to a halt beside him. Her knowing eyes tracked his every move as he poured himself a glass of water. "If I'd known you'd hide out here, I would've waited up... I've missed you."

"I was tired," he evaded, the twitch to Rinoa's eyes alerting him it had been the wrong thing to say.

"That's why we got a queen sized bed, Squall. Fits the both of us." Raking a hand to flatten her disheveled hair, she let out a soft sigh. "I know better than to expect a dramatic homecoming by now, but... just a kiss would've been enough. Do you know how long it's been since I've slept in your arms?"

Postponing a reply as he drank from his glass, he stopped himself from pointing out she wouldn't have been pleased at all with him secretly slinking into her bed for sleep.

"Fine, I don't want to fight about this," she said after a pregnant silence, her voice tight. "I haven't seen you in six weeks. I really did miss you." Taking the glass from his hands, she pointedly set it aside and gently nudged her shoulder against his. "I mean... Just look at me. I've been wearing your old gear to bed for the past two weeks," she said with a wan smile, meeting his gaze.

Their bond started to brim with an undercurrent of expectation. It was the exact feeling he'd been hoping to avoid a little longer by taking the couch. Her eyes searched his as she waited for his approach. For him to lean in and kiss her.

"Looks better on you," he tried, stalling.

She didn't reply, just ran a hand down his arm, the gentle buzz of her affection becoming more difficult to ignore. When he failed to make the first move, she raised onto the tip of her toes and pressed her lips to his.

Seeking to placate her, he returned her kiss for an awkward few seconds, but her fingers gripped his arm tightly the moment he moved away. Her smile faltered at whatever she saw in his expression. There was no hiding from their bond, no lies to cover up just how much he'd dreaded this.

"Okay... Alright," she managed after a moment, pulling away. Her voice was thick with disappointment, even as she tried to pull herself back together. The expectant swirling of their bond slowly quieted, until she silenced it completely. "I get it. After all that time apart, I guess it'll take some time to get used to this again." She ran a hand through her hair again, before giving a small nod to herself.

"How about this," she exclaimed with a smile that was almost convincing, clapping her hands together. "I'll get presentable while you freshen up, and then we go out to Balamb for brunch. Just you and me. We can go to the beach after. You must've missed the sea, right?"

"I—" Frowning, he paused, feeling like a jerk. "Maybe tomorrow," he continued evenly. "Everyone from the returned party needs to be debriefed today. Quistis is expecting me—"

"This again!" Rinoa exclaimed, her composure finally cracking. "I'm sure you'll be disappointed to hear I talked to Quistis yesterday. I asked her if it was alright with her if I stole you away today. She agreed." Her eyes started to moisten when he said nothing in reply. "You probably have a whole bunch of other meetings planned as well, right? And training? Out until late?"

"... Rinoa," he started, but he had nothing else to offer. He was done with empty promises.

"So now you can't even bring yourself to spend time with me anymore?" she asked, her shoulders sagging, her gaze intent. An unfamiliar current rose in the bond, murmuring in his ears, raising the hairs on his neck. "You're getting further and further away from me. I can feel it. Why are you pushing me away?"

Pressure built inside his skull as his tongue moved against his will, forming words he'd never intended to say. He tried to hold them back but failed. "It's you that can't stand to be around me."

"That makes no sense at all. I want to spend any time I can with you. Always."

She had to be doing this accidentally. Her powers were slipping out of her control again. Suffocated by the pressure of her desperation, he turned towards the front door. He needed to leave before things escalated. There was no point in trying to explain, not when he could barely figure it out himself. Discussing things wouldn't help a thing.

"It would help. It would show me you at least care enough to try!"

At the unwarranted invasion of his mind, one that had definitely been intentional, he turned back around and faced Rinoa head-on. "Why talk when you just dig everything up yourself?" he snapped.

Staring back at him defiantly, Rinoa's fists clenched by her sides. "Don't blame me when you're the one who never tells me a thing." Her chin started to tremble with a wild torrent of emotions that bloomed large in their bond. "What else would you have me do?!"

"Read my thoughts one more time—" he warned lowly.

"—and what? You're already walking away." She held his gaze stubbornly, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her emotions thickened and darkened, falling around him like an enveloping shadow. It was more unsettling than anything he'd ever felt from her before. "Please don't leave," she urged, following after him as he moved to where he'd hung his leather jacket. "Talk to me."

Alerted now to the probing touch of her mind, he tried to keep his thoughts as blank as possible as he ignored her and grabbed his jacket.

"Why are you in such a hurry to get away from me? To ruin what we have? Is it abandonment issues? Fear of commitment? Tell me Squall, which is it?!"

At the harsh words, he carefully curbed his temper and sat down to pull on his boots instead of lashing out. Right now, it would only make matters worse. They could try and figure things out when'd they both had a chance to cool their heads. Now however, he had to leave and escape the headache that was starting to stab behind his eyes. Rinoa's malcontent was like a roiling sea, wave after wave pounding against his defenses.

"Tell me."

The involuntary compulsion to answer returned, sharper this time, causing him to nearly gag. Reeling, he let the shoelaces drop from his hands. "I'm not what you want." His throat constricted around every forced syllable. "You think I'm cold. Damaged. The more you look into my head, the more you're convinced it's true. I can feel your discontent every time you're with me."

"Why can't you bring yourself to kiss me?" she asked, her every word shaky and frantic. "Why can't you touch me?"

Shaking his head again, he tried to break free from her thrall, his vision blurring at the screaming noise of the bond. "I—I can't separate my body from my feelings."

The reaction was instant, a torrent of heartbreak crashing over him, pressing him into the back of the chair. He gasped for air, managing to meet Rinoa's gaze.

"Are you saying you don't love me?" The soft tremble of her voice was nearly drowned out by the raging fire in his skull, but again his tongue started to move.

"STOP!" She drew in a shuddering breath, her fists shaking. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"...Rinoa... Stop this..." His stomach was starting to turn and heave with the continued assault. "Let me go."

All at once, the pressure lifted, his head suddenly light and free. Flexing away the tremor to his fingers, he swallowed and pushed himself onto unsteady feet. He needed to go, now, before she changed her mind. A line had just been crossed, making him fear for her. She'd never gone this far before, giving into the corruption of her powers like this. Keeping his front to her, he moved towards the exit. He needed to get her help, fast.

She simply stood there watching him, her eyes rimmed red and tearful. "Please don't leave me," she pleaded, her voice small.

"I have to go."

"Don't leave me."

He wavered, thrown off by the sudden change in Rinoa's voice. Soft and compelling. Coming to a halt, he couldn't look away, mesmerized by the sight of his sorceress. Her expression was gentle, sorrowful with tears that his words had brought to her eyes. It made him feel ashamed with guilt.

"Stay," she continued, her gaze burning into his, her suggestion impossible to ignore. As she rose her hand in a beckoning motion, he found himself taking a step towards her.

Her lips curled into a smile, her eyes filled with mad devotion; a devotion he was desperate to return. The moment he stepped into her arms, his name left her lips like a prayer, like rain after a long drought. Her desire was his own. Her fierce love washed through him, leaving him speechless. Wrapping his arms around her tightly, he inhaled the lavender scent lingering in her hair and pressed his lips to her slender neck.

"Yes," she sighed softly into his ear, melting into his embrace with a delicate shudder. The world swirled away from him, a hazy jumble of motion and painful pressure.

Everything went black. No sensory input, no stream of consciousness, nothing. Trapped in a formless void, Seifer wasn't looking out from Squall's eyes anymore. What the fuck was happening?

The world blinked back into existence, filling him with elation and arousal.

Squall stroked Rinoa's hair, breathing in the heady scent of her skin. Her hands were traveling underneath his shirt as they drew closer to the bed.

They were in the bedroom? How had they gotten here?

He shook his head, confused. What was happening? His hands faltered, pain splitting his skull as he tried to clear his head. "...Rinoa. What—"

"Don't stop," her voice whispered in his ear, the words an echo that rippled through the bond.

Again, Seifer was plunged into darkness. He felt his anger growing. This was Rinoa's doing.

Her lips on his.

That was all he saw this time; all he felt.

Her hands pulled his shirt over his head.

He wanted to put an end to this. He would not fucking watch and let Squall be forced through something like that. He pushed against the boundaries of the darkness that had been imposed on him but it didn't budge in the slightest. How the hell had Squall managed it?

Her hands were undoing his zipper. Her face was close to his. She lifted her eyes and looked at him, smiling that soft smile of hers.

His thoughts staggered and he pulled her hands away. His stomach sank with cold dread when he looked down into unnaturally yellow eyes, the pressure in his brain already building again. Adrenaline surging, he broke away and stumbled back. He had to get back-up, had to get Odine here.

"Don't go!"

His head swirled with the power of her command, but he managed to turn on his heels, running towards the door.

NO!

Her psychic shout filled his mind, silent pain ringing in his ears like the aftermath of a detonation too close by. He blinked, looking up at the wall from a different angle. He'd fallen. How... All his senses told him he was wounded; from the familiar numbness spreading throughout his body, telling him he was losing blood fast, to the sharp crackling typical of a potent magic spell. He rolled onto his back, trying to swallow back the blood that was gurgling its way up his throat.

"No! No no no no no."

The simple denial broke the silence, like a mantra repeated over and over. Soft footsteps rushed towards him, Rinoa falling to her knees beside him and moving within his line of sight. Relief filled him when he saw that her tear-filled eyes had returned to a soft hazelnut brown.

"Hyne, what did I do, what—" Her voice broke, making way for a loud gasp as she carefully pushed him onto his side and glanced at his back. "No no no... Okay, okay." He heard her draw in a sharp, panicked breath. "I'll heal you. Just stay calm. I'll heal you."

The familiar green glow of a Curaga enveloped his body, only to be instantly rejected when a violent spasm racked his body, the burning sensation in his back sharpening to white hot pain.

"I don't understand. It's not closing up. Hyne, why—" Another spell stabbed into his churning flesh, and another. "I—I can't stop the bleeding." The press of her hands against his back nearly caused him to pass out. He fought to straighten his thoughts, to move his lips.

"It'll be okay... Just get—" He swallowed thickly again, blinking heavy eyelids. He was starting to feel cold, spilling a mouthful of blood as he tried to find the breath to speak. "—Kadowaki."

"Yes. Yes, Kadowaki. I'll be right back, okay? I'm right here."

He couldn't focus on her words, only on the barely contained panic in her voice as she spoke to someone else over the phone. He was sinking, the edges of his vision swimming with darkness. He was about to lose consciousness.

"Hey. Hey! Stay awake now. Focus for me. You have to focus."

Don't worry, he told her through their bond. Everything will be okay.

"Squall!"

Seifer's eyes shot open. He sucked in sharp breaths of air and greedily filled his lungs. Dropping his head back against the couch, he closed his eyes and willed his mind to adapt to a body that was no longer dying. He could still feel the fading ghost of pain in his back, but his pulse was strong and no longer struggling erratically as every heartbeat pushed him closer to death.

"Seifer?" Ellone's concerned voice sounded, the woman rising from her seat to hover beside him. "You okay?"

He ignored her and kept his eyes shut.

Squall had come so fucking close to dying.

Not because of a high risk mission gone bad or an assassination attempt. Not because of the fucking million times the man had put his life at stake to save others. Because of Rinoa. Because she'd needed to feel wanted. Any goddamn hint of the relief he'd felt earlier was fucking gone.

Feeling Squall almost drown in his own blood because of a dissatisfied ex-girlfriend was right at the fucking top of the list of do not fucking go there. He wanted to yell at Squall and tear Rinoa a new hole for something so monumentally screwed up. All Rinoa had been able to think about was herself, while Squall had tried to reassure her when he'd been taking his last fucking breaths.

Sitting up, he couldn't face the man. Instead he glared at Ellone. "Leave us alone."

Uncertain, Ellone glanced from the worked up blond to her brother in concern. Squall met her gaze with a quick nod, his face set in a stark expression. Seifer had looked a deathly pale when coming to, and that desperate gasp for air—

"It's alright. Go."

Nodding numbly at Squall's words, she rose from her armchair. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

Waiting for Ellone to leave the room, Squall willed his apprehension into submission as best as he could and fixed his eyes on Seifer.

"You almost died," Seifer said tersely, his anger turning the words into an accusation.

Squall frowned. There was only one time during their bond when Rinoa had hurt him physically. He hoped against hope it had been another memory. Any other memory. "What did you see?"

"Rinoa. Your scar."

At the simple reply, Squall fought to keep any reaction off his face as he leaned back in the armchair. Of course. Of course Seifer had to see them at their absolute lowest. At least it had been Rinoa and not some fluke, but the thought consoled him little.

Seifer grimaced. He'd just witnessed Rinoa manipulate Squall for sex and the man didn't even flinch when confronted with it or the disastrous outcome. "Was that the only time? That she fucking controlled your mind?"

"She didn't," Squall replied reflexively. A lot had happened that day, but not that. He frowned, his memory of the exact events hazy.

About to yell at Squall for not realizing he'd been forced out of his own Hyne-damned mind, Seifer bit back the hypocritical words. At least now he knew for sure that Ultimecia had used him. "She forced you. She took over and fucking used your body to try and get off."

Squall's train of thought screeched to a halt at the bewildering statement and the absolute conviction with which it was made. Seifer's anger wasn't just about the injury Rinoa had inflicted. Mind control for sex? He tried to remember, but his recollection of the moments preceding his injury were a blur of volatile emotions and disjointed impressions. He'd blamed the blood loss and lack of oxygen for his inability to remember things properly.

But something wasn't right. One moment Rinoa had been upset and angry with him, and then the next… He shook his head in frustration. "I only remember her eyes turning yellow."

Seifer's gaze bored into Squall's. From what Squall was saying there was no way of knowing if the same thing had happened at other times. He pushed up from the couch and headed for the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Squall demanded as he rose to his feet as well, immediately alerted by the blond's dark expression.

"Ellone," Seifer said without looking back, already past the top step.

Cursing inwardly, Squall followed after him. "Seifer," he hissed, but the man ignored him.

Entering the pub, Seifer spotted Ellone by the bar. She'd already moved their way, looking concerned. Schooling his expression, he closed the distance. "The thing you felt; was that the only time?"

Uncertain, Ellone looked between Seifer and her brother. Squall stood close behind the demanding blond, as if ready to interrupt, but his gaze was fixed on her as well, his expression tight.

"I—" she started, not sure whether her answer would be what they wanted to hear. "It was only the once, I think. I mean, it stood out from the rest." She set down the rag she had picked up to do some pointless cleaning. "It was very short though, so I nearly missed it."

"So if something like it had lasted longer, it would have stood out more?" Seifer asked, relaxing slightly. "You would've felt it?"

Ellone nodded slowly. "I can look again, but yeah, I'm sure I would've noticed." Casting her brother a glance, she felt her heart drop at the mere thought Ultimecia had gotten to him. "What's going on?"

When it didn't look like Squall was going to answer, Seifer decided to do it for him. "Rinoa used her powers against him."

Snapping from his racing thoughts, Squall glared at Seifer. They'd agreed Ellone didn't need to be in the know about anything.

"Her powers?" Ellone repeated, her voice small. "Like… what Ultimecia did?" She hated how it made sense; why she could tell the one memory apart as wrong.

Squall quickly dissuaded her questions. "You know about it," he said in what he hoped to be a calming, reasonable voice. "Rinoa's accident."

Ellone frowned at the vague reply and Seifer's derisive huff that immediately followed it. She'd been told of something of the sort, but nothing to warrant Seifer's reaction. She studied her brother, not missing the brief but pointed glare he sent to the blond. Another warning not to speak.

"I know she had some problems, but she seems so harmless…"

"She slipped once," Squall said evenly, not wanting Ellone to think less of Rinoa. "She never meant to hurt me, and she never has since. It's in the past."

Glancing at the way Seifer tensed at Squall's evasive words, his eyes narrowing, Ellone didn't feel at all reassured. "From someone who brushes off life threatening injury with I'm fine, I'm afraid to know what you call a slip." When Squall only held her gaze stiffly, she reined in her questions and faced Seifer instead. "So... do you guys need more?" She wrung her hands uncertainly. "To make sure?" They all knew she wasn't talking about Seifer's past anymore.

"No."

The terse reply drew Squall's gaze to Seifer as the man strode behind the bar, towards the shelves that held all the glasses. He momentarily forgot about his own past and troubles when the man proceeded to set out a bottle of whiskey on the counter alongside a lone tumbler. Straight for the hard stuff. Keeping a wary eye on Seifer's movements, he shook his head at Ellone. "We have what we need."

"So then, we've proven it?"

"Yes," he answered with conviction, forcing the evening's events into perspective. Whatever else gritty, intimate truth had been exposed in the process, they'd gotten what they'd come for. The one truth that mattered most.

Ellone sighed when neither man elaborated. Seifer's only addition to Squall's confirmation was to knock back a glass of whiskey that he'd filled to the brim. She'd kept a bar long enough to recognize the practiced and grim ease of that unflinching action. It seemed that despite her warnings, neither Squall nor Seifer had been prepared for what they'd seen; for the powerlessness.

"Look," she started softly, offering them the only advice she could think of. "I reminded you before, and I'll remind you again. All of it happened, but it's in the past. Focus on the now. What you came here for in the first place. It's the only way forward." When again neither man spoke, too wrapped up in their own thoughts to acknowledge her experience in the matter, she pushed away from the counter. "If you can't talk to me, talk to each other."

Snorting at the ridiculous suggestion, Seifer gulped down more of his whiskey and ignored the woman as she left. Like hell talking about any of this would make a fucking difference. So what if they'd proven what they'd come for. Everything was in fucking shambles anyway. He'd experienced firsthand just how messed up Squall and Rinoa's relationship had been. He'd felt Squall almost die and still felt the burning need to make Rinoa pay for what she'd done to Squall. It was enough for him to want to drink and never stop, to try and escape everything they'd dredged up.

"What did you see exactly?"

The question cut through his thoughts. He looked over to where Squall had propped himself up on a bar stool across from him. He grit his teeth, hating every single second of the memory that was now his as well.

"You didn't give her the greeting she wanted," he stated plainly, looking at the amber liquid in his hold. "One moment you were trying to get away, the next you were feeling her up. And then nothing. You were gone. I got snippets of what was happening whenever you broke through. You stopped her. Tried to leave." He took another mouthful of whiskey, focusing on the burn of alcohol. "And she attacked."

Squall frowned at the disconcerting version of something he'd long since stopped dwelling on, something he'd already forgiven Rinoa for. He remembered nothing of the sort, but then again, he remembered very little. He'd gotten home late from a mission and they'd had a fight. After that things became hazy. He remembered her lashing emotions, the pain of the injury, but none of the specifics. Injury was one thing, he was used to that, but this… His stomach dropped uncomfortably, before he reminded himself of Seifer's words. He'd stopped her. Even if he didn't remember, he'd stopped her.

Did Rinoa remember all the details?

Brooding on that unwelcome thought, he had trouble believing it could be true at all. The memory of yellow eyes, the only clear memory he had of that incident, told him otherwise. Perhaps more of Ultimecia had transferred with her powers than anyone had ever expected. Rinoa herself would never have been capable of such a thing, not without the double corruption of two sorceresses coursing through her veins. He was sure of it.

Something unclenched in his chest as he realized the truth of that. After the incident Rinoa had been devastated, her guilt and fear a living entity that had writhed through their bond. He hadn't needed to ask any questions to know the truth. He didn't need to now either.

Glancing up from the counter, he wasn't sure he'd be able to convince Seifer of that. The man looked outright forbidding, his second glass of whiskey nearly completely drained. He eyed the alcohol warily, hoping against hope he wouldn't have to intervene. And then it hit him all over again.

Ultimecia had succeeded at what Seifer accused Rinoa of. More than once.

The intruding thought stole the breath from his lungs, bringing him far more pain than anything Rinoa had ever done. He swallowed thickly, his eyes trained on Seifer's white knuckled grip on the glass.

"I had to talk her out of cryostasis," he found himself saying, not seeking to excuse but to explain. He'd felt the dark spiraling of her thoughts, and had feared for what she might do; not to others but herself. Sometimes he suspected the fact that her powers would never die with her was the only reason she'd chosen to fight. "She's never taken off her inhibitors even once. She never misses a meeting with Odine. If he manages to find a way, she wants to get rid of her powers for good."

Seifer shook his head, not really giving a fuck about such useless reassurances. There was no way he could forgive her. No matter how fucking contrite Rinoa and himself were, they'd hurt Squall. Between the two of them, it was a fucking miracle the man was still alive. He downed the rest of the alcohol and grabbed the bottle again.

Frowning as Seifer kept his grim silence and poured himself a third glass, Squall found that for once he agreed with Ellone's advice to talk. Silence wouldn't cut it anymore. They'd made such a mess of things, all the little hurts and horrible truths laid bare between them. If they tried to bury them again, they would ulcerate and fester. There was nowhere left to hide.

"Don't blame her," he said into the suffocating atmosphere Seifer had imposed on them. "She was used and she's had to deal with the consequences ever since," he continued evenly, hoping the man might understand better from that perspective. "She was never meant to have those powers."

Seifer moved the tumbler from his lips, just long enough to speak. "That doesn't make it right," he said testily as he eyed Squall in contempt. Another gulp of burning liquid ran down his throat. "Her. Me. It's all the same. We should pay for our fucking crimes."

"The only one who committed any crimes is Ultimecia," Squall disagreed immediately. "We proved that tonight."

"Then why do I still feel the fucking same?!" Seifer demanded, slamming the tumbler against the counter.

Squall eyed the small display of aggression with dismay, recalling all too well how Seifer had shattered a glass just two days ago. He should've anticipated that knowing he'd been used wouldn't make it any easier for Seifer to digest his past. The abuse and assault hadn't disappeared, all of the pain that had already been there suddenly thrust into the fresh perspective of a victim.

"Because it still happened," he said softly. "But it wasn't your fault. None of it was."

Seifer snorted. He'd been too fucking weak. Unable to stop any of it, he'd been used to hurt and maim. Not even his suicide attempt had been successful. His anger still simmered at Squall having made that decision for him. "You weren't supposed to see anything from the war."

Flinching at the accusation, Squall knew he'd been too sure of himself and his theory; so eager to repair his wrongs that he'd failed to see the pitfalls. "I miscalculated," he admitted, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Seifer might never have agreed otherwise, preventing his interference at Shennard Canyon.

Seifer caught his tongue just in time, about to lash out. There was no way Squall could've predicted what they'd ended up seeing. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey again, he refilled his glass once more, the motion already slightly off kilter. "You think I'm a coward?" he asked bitterly.

Squall frowned at the question and the unkind memory it stirred of how he'd provoked Seifer into speaking of the war for the first time. He'd been so focused on his own hurts, accusing the man of running away, of cowardice. He regretted a lot of the things he'd said that night.

"No," he said soberly. "It's not always possible to fight back. I've sent SeeDs on missions with a poison capsule as their only fallback."

Not endeared in the slightest by Squall's response, Seifer grit his teeth. "Yet you wouldn't let me die."

Squall was stunned by having his own words turned against him. In that memory, Seifer hadn't been an operative far beyond his reach and aid. The man had been right there, suffering, and every last second of it had driven him to desperation.

"No," Squall replied firmly, his voice nearly choking on the single syllable. "I never could."

The heartfelt words pierced through Seifer's anger, their sincerity briefly obscuring all else, but he recognized it for the dangerous sentiment that it was. It was that exact expression, those imploring eyes stirring all manner of feelings in him, that had made it impossible to force Squall away before. He cursed under his breath and looked away. "It would have prevented a lot."

Squall shook his head, not as willing to weigh Seifer's life against those of others. "She would have used someone else, issued the same orders. People still would have died."

"But not because of me. And it would have set her back. Maybe enough for you guys to get to her."

"You're reasoning after the facts," Squall replied firmly. "We didn't know where she was at the time. We had hardly any intel at all." He'd replayed such thoughts over and over in his head as well, and was familiar with their special brand of torment. "It's easy to see opportunities when thinking back, but the fact is she was strong. Too strong for any one person." Goosebumps lined Squall's skin as he thought back to her abode in the future, the wasteland, the dead SeeDs. "She planned everything, probably years in advance."

Of course she would have had a contingency plan, Seifer realized darkly. It had just been more convenient for her to keep him alive. Probably more amusing too, to see him fall apart. He emptied his glass and ran the back of his hand across his mouth to catch any spills.

"How did she die?" he asked, looking up from the empty glass.

Unsure of how much detail Seifer wanted and why, Squall considered his answer. Whenever he'd tried to impart some new knowledge concerning the war, the man hadn't taken it well, but he deserved to know. "She kept jumping hosts. We were running out of options. When we realized she was from the future, there was only one solution. We had to let her start Time Compression."

"Which is?'" Seifer demanded, remembering how Ellone and Squall had brought it up before.

"A spell. A powerful one. The collapse of time and space into one singularity, with Ultimecia at its center. She wanted to assimilate and recreate all of existence. It was the only way for us to get to her in her own time; to kill her before she could complete the spell." Squall's brow knotted at the remembered fight. It had been relentless, Ultimecia's spells slowly punching holes in their defences, leeching them dry of their own magic. "She fled when she realized she was losing, but I managed to follow her. Somehow she led us to the orphanage, into the past." He'd been too disoriented to fully appreciate the importance of that moment in time. Maybe if he'd tried, he could've stopped events from coming full circle somehow. "A dying sorceress's powers are volatile and dangerous. They target the nearest viable host." He paused, certain the final part of his explanation would be ill received. "Edea took them willingly, to keep the children from becoming hosts. Ultimecia bled out after that."

Seifer's brain was reeling with the amount of new information. It seemed like an impossible story, but Squall never lied or embellished the truth by even a little. If anything, he'd probably downplayed the sheer insanity of it all. Seifer tried to imagine his sorceress slowly bleeding to death as the sick cycle of his Matron becoming his tormentor started all over again. He took his next mouthful of whiskey straight from the bottle, hating how Squall had actually sounded like he was trying to defend Edea. "To spare the fucking children?" he pointed out derisively. "That's rich."

Squall couldn't keep the frown off his face at the unfair words. "Ultimecia could have dumped her powers on one of the girls. Quistis, Selphie, others. You've seen what happens when someone isn't prepared to handle them. Edea already had some powers of her own. So yes, she protected her children." Ignoring Seifer's growing scowl, he continued. He needed Seifer to understand it hadn't been Matron's fault. "Ultimecia possessed her. It was never Edea's choice. She was used just as much as you were."

Filled with an anger that had nowhere to go, Seifer tightened his hold on the bottle further. He couldn't believe Squall had just compared him to the woman who'd used him. It was her face he saw when he thought of his sorceress, it was her body he'd felt. She was the one who starred in his nightmares. How the hell was he even supposed to distinguish Edea from Ultimecia when he'd never even seen her real form?

Seeing Squall's frown deepen as the brunet watched him, he'd had enough. "Do you expect me to forgive her? I don't even know what the fuck Ultimecia looked like," he said, gesturing wildly with the bottle. "To me, her and Edea are the same. She was the one who used me." He clenched his jaw. "To know she was anywhere near me as a kid is fucking sick."

Left speechless by the outpour, Squall failed to find any words when Seifer stared him down with wild eyes. Explanations were only making things worse, but he wasn't sure what else to offer. Seifer looked like he'd bristle at the slightest gesture or remark.

"I need some fucking air."

When Seifer grabbed the bottle and rounded the counter towards the front door, Squall knew he had to stop the man from drinking himself into another stupor before things escalated further. He did not want this to go the same way as last time. Getting up from his bar stool, he followed Seifer outside.

Hearing Squall's footsteps on the cobblestones behind him, Seifer grit his teeth. Squall couldn't take a fucking hint. Bringing the bottle to his lips again, he arched back his neck and took several greedy gulps, then spoke over his shoulder. "Leave me the fuck alone."

Squall frowned at the harsh words, everything about Seifer's demeanor becoming alarmingly familiar. He stepped into Seifer's view, forcing the man to acknowledge him. "We're not doing this again."

"You're right. We're not," Seifer said balefully, pushing past the man.

Undeterred, Squall followed and prepared himself for the inevitable backlash. He had to try. "You've had enough," he said firmly, holding out his hand. "Hand me the bottle or I'll take it myself."

Seifer turned back around, his eyes flashing with anger. "Try it."

When amber light flared in Seifer's eyes, Squall junctioned just in time to deflect the Silence spell. Within the same breath, he singled out Diablos and channeled the demon's gravitational forces into a single, deliberate pull. The bottle was yanked from Seifer's grip and landed in his awaiting hand.

Wanting to fucking punch the brunet, it took all of Seifer's self control to stay his hand. "What the fuck do you want from me, Squall?"

Unjunctioning when no additional spells were flung his way, Squall frowned at the hostile way Seifer asked the question. It was something he hadn't dared ask himself. Instead he chose to apply the question only to their current situation. His fingers curled around the half empty bottle in his hand.

"Talk to me."

"About what?" Seifer spat, stalking closer. "About how you've fucking seen everything? Or the fact that my past still makes me feel fucking sick, that this was all for nothing?" He grimaced and swallowed hard. "Or maybe you want to talk about how you were always too fucking weak to end my misery. All those battles, you beat me down just enough to keep me on her leash, but you could never deal the killing blow." He glared at Squall. "Or how about you being willing enough to believe the lie, that you actually thought I was capable of doing it all?" His eyes narrowed dangerously. "That sound like something you want to talk about?"

"Whatever it takes," Squall said evenly, determined despite the pain Seifer's words caused him. He'd failed Seifer utterly and if this was to be his reckoning, he'd face it squarely.

"You're still not getting it, are you?" Seifer snorted derisively. "I can't look at you and not think about the war."

Squall couldn't think of a single thing to say to that bit of damning truth, spoken out loud. He was beginning to understand there might be no coming back from this. He clamped down hard on the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, willing himself to weather this storm.

"I want to help, but I don't know how." The admission was a useless, laughable thing, but he was done with pride. He stepped closer. "Tell me."

"There's no fucking fixing this. I drink and fuck left, right, and center just to survive. And you," Seifer snarled, grabbing hold of Squall's shirt and balling it up in his fist. "You cling to whoever you think needs saving. Here's a hint for you. You're not fucking helping." He pushed against Squall's chest, forcing the man to take a step back as he released his hold. "No matter how many times you spread your legs."

When Squall looked at him in a way that fucking tore his heart apart, he couldn't stop himself from returning the pain in kind. "Wasn't the war enough? You had to rip open old wounds. Play with the ex-knight, make him feel it all again. Bring him to his fucking knees." He looked down at Squall with a sneer. "I hope you got what you wanted, Squall. Everything fucking hurts."

Seifer's lashing words extinguished the last spark of hope Squall had been stubbornly holding onto. He didn't put up a fight and let his fingers fall slack when the man took the bottle of whiskey from his hold. Something inside him went very still as he watched Seifer turn his back and walk away from him. Something irreparably injured, begging him not to prod and expose it. He wouldn't be able to function if he gave this pain room to breathe.

He walled it off, pushing it down as far as he could. He forced his gaze away from Seifer's retreating back and turned around to head inside. The dim interior of The Sleeping Lion was all the more empty without Seifer's presence filling it, without the laughter and animated voices that had reached his ears all day. The silence that greeted him now was deafening.

Leaving the door ajar in case Seifer decided to come inside to sleep it off, he headed up the stairs as quietly as could be managed on the creaking boards. He didn't want to stir Ellone's scrutiny or invite any attempts at conversation, but when he emerged into complete darkness at the top of the landing, he realized with relief that she wasn't waiting up for them. He went up the second flight of stairs without turning on any lights and slipped into the guest room like a wounded animal returning to its den. Hide, recover, get himself together.

He closed the door behind him, only for his eyes to fall to the bed they'd shared just that morning. He'd straightened the rumpled sheets before he'd gone downstairs for breakfast, tidying away all signs of their indiscretion. His heart gave a hollow lurch before he managed to clamp down on the surge of emotion. Moving to the other bed that wouldn't have Seifer's scent lingering on it, he sat down and tried to make sense of what had happened.

It was over.

He let that fact sink in for a while. Part of him had known this would happen right from the start, but he'd been woefully unprepared for the brutal reality of it. It didn't seem possible he could feel this way after so short a time spent with Seifer. It shouldn't hurt like this. Not even severing his bond with Rinoa had felt like this. Not even close.

He'd fallen hard and fast.

Examining the thought, he allowed it to form fully for the first time since he'd started down this path. He'd been a fool to think that he could somehow safeguard himself by refusing to label his feelings; that he could sleep with Seifer while at the same time maintaining any meaningful distance. The truth could no longer be denied when it burned its way through him, choking him with grief. He loved the bastard. His chest ached with it.

Too late. It was too late for that now. With a rashness that was totally unlike himself, he'd tried everything he could think of, had given all he had to give, and it hadn't been enough. He wasn't enough. Again.

The realization stung. He'd actually bought into the naïve fairytale that if he made a genuine effort, things could turn out differently than they had with Rinoa. In the end it had only made things worse. There was no salvaging anything. Seifer had been ruthlessly clear on that front, his accusations harsh but true.

Perhaps it was for the best that Seifer refused to let things drag on, the way Squall had with Rinoa. Better to end things now than to find out what this pain would feel like years down the line. Better to let Seifer go back to his life, unencumbered by constant reminders of his past.

Blinded by infatuation, he'd bullied the man into facing memories that should never have seen the light of day. He'd needed to reinsert himself into Seifer's life so badly that he'd ignored what his very presence was doing to the man. He didn't deserve Seifer's forgiveness or regard. He'd made so many mistakes, but no more. Before he'd come along, Seifer had been doing well. He could only hope that the man would be able to return to that. A job he excelled at. An apprenticeship that filled him with pride. A lover that would welcome him back.

His throat constricted as the only true way forward revealed itself. He'd heed Seifer's repeated requests for him to leave, sparing Seifer the trouble of having to demand it of him again. The man would go on to meet Fujin and Raijin; two loyal friends who'd never doubted or failed him. They'd be able to give Seifer the support he could never offer.

He'd made his decision. He'd leave.

Blinking, he stirred as if from a daze and lifted his eyes from where they had been fixed on the floorboards. He took his phone from the bedside table and glanced at the time that had passed. He'd sat there thinking for well over an hour. Straightening from his stiff perch, he listened out for any sounds but heard nothing. He walked over to the window, but saw no one move in the dark of night. Winhill wasn't lit at night, and the crescent moon provided only paltry illumination. He'd have to wait until the first light of dawn.

Sitting back down on the bed, he knew he should catch whatever sleep he could get before facing the next day. Instead he moved to rest his back against the wall and crossed his arms. There'd be no sleep for him tonight, not while his thoughts were intent on cataloguing every moment he'd spent with Seifer these past two weeks, turning them this way and that, wondering where he'd gone wrong. As he recalled all the dizzying hours spent in bed together, all the ways they'd grown close, he discovered those memories had already become razor sharp. Still he couldn't stop himself from replaying them in his mind.

He didn't know how long he'd sat there when the bang of a closing door resounded through the house. He held his breath, his heart erupting into fast beats, as stumbling footsteps came up the first flight of stairs. Going by the occasional thud and faltering lull in Seifer's progress, the man had most likely finished off that bottle of whiskey. He prepared himself, moving to the edge of the bed.

There were a few more fumbled steps, a clearly discernible curse, and then silence. Squall frowned, listening carefully, but Seifer didn't come up the second flight of stairs. He looked at his phone again. 4:11 am. About the same hour as last time.

He waited, frozen in place. He waited until long after he'd started to realize Seifer wasn't coming to him this time. No reconciliation. No second chances. He swallowed thickly, hating how that tiny scrap of false hope had managed to niggle its way past his defenses.

Rising from the bed, he firmed his resolve. Once he made a decision, he didn't go back on it. He glanced at his things and frowned. He hadn't even packed yet, the reason for that glaringly obvious and pathetic now. Ignoring Shiva's dismay, he moved quickly as he gathered his scattered possessions and stuffed them into his duffel bag. Walking to the small sink, he freshened up without looking into the mirror. Within minutes, he was changed into a fresh set of clothes, his duffel bag and Revolver's case in hand. It was still dark out, but he'd manage. Another false reason he'd concocted to delay the inevitable.

Stepping out into the hallway, he kept his steps light and careful as he ghosted down the stairs, but he shouldn't have worried. Deep snores sounded from where he knew the couch to be. Seifer was fast asleep. From where he was standing, he couldn't make out more than the man's shape in the dark. Any clearer view of Seifer's face would require him to step out onto the creaking floorboards and draw closer than he had the heart for. Quelling the urge to linger on the landing, he forced himself down the next flight of stairs and out of the pub.

He inhaled deeply when he emerged outside into the last stretch of night. A few early birds were already making a ruckus, heralding the coming dawn. The breeze was mild, telling him it would be an unseasonably warm day. Just as well. It would be a long hike to the train platform in Baren Falls.

Balling up his feelings and making them as small as possible, he set out and walked away from The Sleeping Lion. He was done with this heartache. He didn't want to feel like this ever again. He would become an island, self-contained and impervious. Quickening his pace, he imagined his attachments unraveling with each step he put between himself and the source of his distress, willing it could be that easy, willing the tightness in his throat away.

Life had finally driven home the one lesson he'd been too stubborn to learn until now. Love was pain.

~ o ~