But see how deep the bullet lies.
Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder.
Seifer lay on the floor, the pain in his leg beginning to wear off. It had first hurt like shit, then turned numbed—he could've also even sworn there was some color disfigurement. But alas, he was only imagining it, as Quistis insisted. She stood above him, and kneeled down, looking slightly relaxed. "Shit, you really grew some backbone—hard ass."
"It was just a shock." Quistis shook her head, her words motioning him to stop being a little pussy. There was little eye contact between them and for all it was worth, Seifer was sure it was Quistis that was evading his eyes.
He regained strength in his leg and pushed himself off of the floor, Quistis distracted with other things. She was examining the room, picking all that Seifer scattered and could prove to be harmful.
"So they sent you?"
"Yes, they did. And unless you want to be caught, I suggest you wait to open your mouth until later." Arms were folded across the chest, though eyes were still distracted by something other. Now, those orbs were focused on the window behind Seifer and glazed with the same look as before.
"I'm drunk." He said it in hopes of melting the frigid air between them. And in some odd, twisted, Seifer-ish way, it showed gratitude.
Quistis walked to the window and took out the panes. Maneuvering her way, she managed to get onto the fire escape, verbally beckoning Seifer to follow. His things were attached firmly to his back—what little he had, anyway—and passed through. They both bounced from ladder to ladder, and eventually began bounding west.
As foggy as ever, Seifer remained close, not eager to lose track of Quistis. He wasn't sure of what to think, and neither did she.
"Next time, Seifer," Quistis suddenly halted and swung around to face him. Given the moment and distance, he nearly crashed into her, but the repelling forces that she emitted prevented it. "When I say something, just do it."
"…Okay." He finally let up, holding his hands in the air defensively. There was panic and apprehension in her eyes—and all those tears she had been hiding. It wasn't the first time he'd stared at her straight on. He battled her for her secrets, battled her for his privacy, battled her for her thoughts. But it was a different sight. And it struck him as odd.
She turned from him and continued on, stopping a mere, but dreadfully-silent, 5 minutes later. Through the cloud of haze, a tiny car could be seen.
"Get in."
"You're bad at kidnapping."
"I'm good at fucking you up, though." Their squabble was automatic, their replies blasé. Quistis got in, Seifer following her lead on the passenger side.
"Why'd they send you?" He had reclined his seat, and was leaning back, staring at the blonde before him. A sight he hadn't seen in ages, a sight he was secretly grateful for. He'd always argue that the last thing he wanted to see was that damned Garden, and Quistis Trepe. But he guessed he was wrong. Seifer Almasy was resting in his coffin and he was glad to see her standing over it.
"To haul your ass back to the Garden." Seifer scoffed.
"If anyone wants me dead, it has to be them. Liar." A finger traced an S on the frosty window. "If I thought, for a split fucking second, that that place could serve as a haven, I would've already been there."
"I don't give a damn whether you believe me or not. Honestly, Seifer, if they wanted to mutilate you, they would've sent everyone—not just me." A laugh escaped his lips, and Quistis scowled. "Ingrate. I've spent months looking for you. I don't know how you travel so fast."
"A thing I picked up from being in Garden. Handy little technique, huh?" Quistis rolled her eyes. "I didn't know that such a small town could have such an army."
"Well, everyone—not only that town—decided after the war, that they should at least be updated with equipment." Seifer shrugged, now that being out of that town, he didn't bother to wonder how he hadn't noticed beforehand.
"Leonhart became Commander?"
"Yes. He deserves it. You know, he's part of the reason why I'm here, bringing you back."
"So what's the other part, Quistis?"
"Because I missed that utterly handsome face of yours." Quistis spewed out sarcastically. I miss that sarcasm, Seifer thought, smiling inwardly to himself. Always amused by Quistis, he took pleasure in tormenting her.
"How's Pube-boy holding up, anyway?"
"—no shame at all, I should've known, Almasy. You carry on as if what you did was right and justified. No apologies, no shame."
"Shame? I make no apologies, Trepe." Seifer pulled up his seat, now deeply involved in defending himself. His reply was fierce and intent.
"Your honesty is murderous. Of course you have no shame, Almasy. You're a fucking selfish asshole."
"And you aren't?"
"I'm not anything like you, Seifer." She said quietly, as if trying to believe it herself. A moment passed and he could feel his eyes burning through her smooth skin. Finally, he broke the silence.
"Screw you, Trepe."
"Screw you too, Almasy."
-&-
"Wake up." Quistis nudged him harshly, Seifer waking with a sputter and sudden fear. "I need to make a pit stop." The sun was beyond just a bit, the cold, morning dew hanging in the air. Quistis loved mornings. She loved the warm colors, the biting cold, and the quiet.
"How long have," Seifer rubbed his eyes, "you been driving?"
"Couple of hours. Couple of days. I've lost track, really. Wake up and keep watch."
"Where are we?"
"Calta. A small town a little far off from Winhill. You are not to move. You are not to show your face. Just make sure no one tows this car away."
"I'll try."
"You had better." Quistis popped open the door of the car, and walked out. The blonde conducted herself elegantly, tying back her hair in a neater fashion, and smoothing the wrinkles in her black skirt. Quistis strolled through the town, watching as little children ran through the streets, eager to get to school. Old couples walked along, bidding greetings to their neighbors, and teasing each other of memories long gone.
Things had been different ever since the war. When she returned, things weren't as glorified—it had been far from that. Graves were dug, soldiers, cadets, and SeeDs lost, acknowledged for their part in the war. Friends were gone. People and students she had known were now resting underground. To think that only days before, she had been celebrating the victory obliviously. She ached for the innocence she had once known.
Everyone had someone to return to. Quistis had only the life she had before the war. And it was a pitiful and sorrowful thing to return to. But she did it with grace and continued on with a robotic smile.
"Seifer, you idiot." Quistis returned to the now empty car, carrying supplies. Throwing the supplies in and locking the door, Quistis turned to find him. She paused, fearing for a moment she would have to think like him. Thankfully, Seifer appeared around the corner, beers in hand, and a grin on his face. "I told you to stay in the car."
"Eh." Seifer tossed her a bottle, guzzling down his own, and opening up another bottle.
"You've got to be kidding me, Seifer." Quistis settled the bottle on the floor and looked at him with amazement and contempt.
"Look." Seriously, now, he sat on the curb, and stared straight up at the glistening figure. "You didn't think that you'd be able to 'haul my ass back to Garden,' would you? You've got to be shitting me if you thought I was going to stay in that car, and listen to you. I've got shit to do before I die. I've already wasted a couple of hours." It was in his eyes—everything, all of it. Seifer knew and acknowledged the mistake he made, the consequences of making such a choice, and the time he had left. He was a man with a death date—and for someone with such a doom, Seifer looked and acted fine. But Quistis herself was a person of masks—and she could see through his façade, as she was sure he could see through hers. Both of them, though, all these years, denied seeing those truths. They left it alone, shoved it aside, but in truth, all of it kept making the two come back to each other.
"Well, I came here to get you. And I'm sure as hell not going back empty-handed. So you can come with me, or I'll just break your legs and drag you back."
"Who would've thought. Trepe finally gaining some balls. Guess the war really hit you cold. And here I thought you would be a push-over for the rest of your life. Let's see…how many of your friends did you see die?"
"How many of your friends did you kill, Almasy?"
"You know, I never see you talk this way to anyone else—you make me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside." Seifer said in a complacent tone, trying to drown out the pain of her previous words, by pretending not to care. He pretended she was wrong.
"Shut up, Seifer."
"Smile for me, Trepe."
"What?" Quistis folded her arms across her chest defiantly, and looked at him, irritated and unsure of what he just asked. But she wasn't going to smile for him, for whatever perverted reason he asked her to smile for.
"Just do it. Smile," he said, drawing out the syllables of that word.
"No."
"It's because you can't." Seifer walked past Quistis, who stood there, mouth slightly agape. That was completely uncalled for. She gathered her thoughts and composed herself.
"You can't either, Almasy." She called after him, turning on her fuming heels.
"We always were one in the same."