Besides Irvine, Selphie had spent the least amount of time around Seifer. They hardly knew each other. But the way they had battled one another during the war had been so intimate. And many of the things the sorceress and Seifer did, even the things he wasn't directly involved in, felt like personal attacks against Selphie. He'd grown up with her, he'd even gone to Garden for a little while when she had. He was crazy, especially at the end, when he was wounded, beat, with no chance of victory, but he still tried to stop them. Even Fujin and Raijin had abandoned him then.
He didn't look crazy now. Surprised, uncomfortable, a good deal older, but not crazy. Or maybe he never had been. It made it easier to think about all the things he participated in if she used that word. But seeing him now, thinking about the few times the others mentioned him, how he used to be before the war, she realized how wrong that was. Not crazy, just . . .
Seifer's cerulean eyes glanced off to the side, pointedly avoiding her eyes. His face shifted afterward, until she only saw his profile.
"Seifer?" Selphie asked, just to be sure.
The sound of his name had him flinching. Or . . . the sound of his name in her voice? He must have forgotten what it sounded like until now. She sure hadn't forgotten his, even if they say the voice is the first thing you forget about a person. Enough dreams, featuring him, had penetrated her mind to keep that voice as intact in her memory as the last time she heard it in her presence.
When was that? Lunatic Pandora? Right before Adel . . . Right before time compression . . .
A breeze passed through the meadow, unusually cold, even for the night, and Selphie shivered. It passed through Seifer, and he seemed unfazed. His long coat was a little different, but looked warm nonetheless. It swayed around his calves and then went still.
When he spoke, the claws that had dug into her skin since the war tightened their grip.
"Cid said someone else was here. Must have been you," he said.
The claws dug in deeper, to her bones, but she was surprised to hear a difference in his voice. It was subtle, only noticeable because she was so focused on his voice to begin with: rougher on the edges, like frayed paper, and more . . . sincere? Before, when he spoke, it was just words coming out of his mouth, but this, even in this one line, it sounded like more than that. He gave them care, he nurtured them, said them because they were necessary and truly desired.
And Selphie had no idea what to say in response. She'd spent a decade fearing and hating this person in front of her, but she'd never actually thought she'd see him again, so there was no planned action, no planned speech. For once, she was clueless, and that terrified her.
"Well . . . what do you think you're doing out here in the meadow alone in the middle of the night, huh?" she sputtered, and rocked on her heels a bit. The alcohol was really starting to kick in now, now at the utterly most perfect moment—as in the most terrible moment.
Seifer looked at her and his eyebrows came together. He almost looked angry, or maybe that was his bewildered or confused face. She didn't know him well enough to know, and adding that to her lack of skill in reading people in the first place, she was entirely ignorant. This conversation would not go well, no matter what subject they chose.
"I'm not the one who's drunk," he muttered.
"Hey, I am not drunk. I only just started drinking," she defended. She wanted to pick the bottle up, but that would leave her vulnerable, and she couldn't take her eyes off of him, not even for one second. Monster hunter, monster-human hybrid, Galbadian murderer. The words repeated over and over in her head. The children's stories were obviously exaggerated, but they had to arise from something or somewhere, right? Who knew what truth lay in those stories.
Selphie pointed a finger at him. "You still haven't answered my question!" She didn't want him to answer it, because she hadn't wanted to ask it in the first place. It was obvious he was out there doing the exact same thing she was, minus the alcohol.
"The fuck you want me to say?" he snapped. "I'm just out here minding my own damn business."
Selphie flinched back and avoided his eyes. "So, you're not poisoning the tomatoes?"
Seifer's face phased through three different expressions in the span of one second, finally settling on something that was definitely bewilderment. "Why would I . . . what the hell are you talking about?"
She put up her hands and shook her head. "I'm . . ." Hiccup. In embarrassment, she brought her shoulders in and ducked her head. "I'm not sure. I don't know . . . There's so much I want to say, or, maybe I just need to punch you in the face. I don't know."
"Fine," he said, clenching his jaw. "Then punch me in the face. Get it over with."
Selphie gave herself little time to prepare. Suddenly her fist was flying. Seifer easily dodged, and she went tumbling towards the ground. Luckily, he took her wrist and spun her around. Only when she had regained her balance did he let go, even taking a few steps back like he was afraid to touch her again.
"Hey, if I wasn't—"
"Drunk?" Seifer suggested dryly.
Selphie narrowed her eyes at him. Her wrist burned where he'd held on. "Fine, fine, if I wasn't drunk then I could have totally taken you down!"
Seifer smirked. "Something tells me that's true."
Taken aback, Selphie herself stumbled a few steps away from him. The both of them faced each other, a strangely large distance between them, and yet still too close for the both of them.
"What's my name?" she suddenly asked.
Seifer's lips parted a little in surprise.
"You remember it right?" she pushed.
It had been so long since he'd said it, she couldn't even remember when or where it'd been.
"Selphie," he said.
Selphie's eyes grew hot. "That was an easy one. What about the names of the students at Trabia Garden? The ones who were killed when you fired missiles at them? Do you know their names?"
Seifer stiffened and his eyes widened somewhat. Still, he said nothing, even after she allowed him several seconds to think about it.
His silence angered her. The heat in her eyes turned to tears, and they spilled out over her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself. "That was you," she said in a quiet voice. "They died because of you. They were innocent. Kids our age. Younger, too."
More silence greeted her. The surprise had left his face, and now he just stared at her, the slightest hint of . . . disgust? . . . in its place. There was no way it was directed at her, there was no reason for it to be. So maybe it was for himself. That comforted her a bit. Maybe Cid was right. Seifer had to know what he had managed to do in so little time.
So she was okay with the silence then. It gave her more time to rip in to him, maybe transfer the claws that held her so tight to him. She wanted him to feel her pain. The pain she'd endured for ten years now.
"I was there, I remember," she continued, voice still quiet, but intensely furious. "You wanted to help us, you went to Timber, but then you . . . you just went with her."
Suddenly, she was shouting at him. "We thought you were dead! All of us, we were sad. They said you'd been killed. And then you show up again trying to hurt all of my friends!"
Seifer's hands curled into fists at his sides, but his face remained unchanged. His eyes, she'd never seen eyes so focused before.
"The place you'd grown up, the place that had sheltered you and nurtured you, tried to make you the best you could be, you betrayed it all in less than a second. You were willing to do anything she said. You didn't care about anything at all!" she shouted. Her arms thrashed out to the sides, and also turned to fists. Panting, her heart beating quickly, the anger coursed through her veins, and she had to force herself to stay back, to keep her knuckles from going for his head again.
"Even when you were half-alive," she hissed, the tears finally breaking from her eyes to burn her cheeks. "You still tried to hurt us. Your friends left you, and you still didn't care. Everything was about glory. What's the point of glory if you just end up destroying everything? If you end up killing everyone? All you get is a wasteland and ashes and there's nothing left anyway! The thought of that made you happy?"
Seifer's disgust shook a little, letting some fear crawl in beside it.
Yes. You should be afraid of me.
She took a step closer to him, and her hand came forward. But rather than strike him again, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled the two of them closer together. He was almost a foot taller than her, but she glared up at him, her eyes dark and storming.
He was the only thing she could take revenge on. Ultimecia was gone, and Matron was back to her normal self—Selphie would never, could never blame her for the things she did while under Ultimecia's control. Even if it was awkward between Selphie and Matron, that was nothing. But Seifer, he had done things, he had made it so much more personal than it could have been, and he was right here. Though she wished he had been dead, facing him now, drunk or not, was a better medicine than she'd had in a decade.
"You were enjoying it!" Selphie growled. "I could see it whenever you faced us. You enjoyed fighting us. And Rinoa!" The thoughts were coming to her randomly, waking up from their long slumber trapped inside Selphie's mind. "You gave Rinoa to Adel. A girl you loved. You gave her away like it was nothing."
She pushed him away, only to yank him back, and he just let her, his body possessing the strength of a ragdoll. "And Squall. You saw what Ultimecia did to him at the parade. You saw. And you did nothing. You fucking tortured him! How could . . . how could a person do that?" Her body trembled, and this time the tears were accompanied with sobs.
"Dammit," she cursed herself at losing control in front of him. Anger was one thing, but this was different. She didn't want him to see this. "Damn you," she cried, and wiped her wrist over her eyes.
The claws stayed with her. They felt looser, like maybe they were close to finally leaving her, but they were still there.
Her body swayed a little, and she tightened her grip on Seifer's shirt to keep herself steady. When her equilibrium returned somewhat, she pushed away from him, and gripped the side of her head. And then when she was brave enough, she looked back up at Seifer and her eyes widened.
Seifer was crying. He stared at her in shock and fear, and tears stained his cheeks.
"I'm . . . I'm sorry," she mumbled without meaning to. She stumbled a little and then bent over to get her bottle. Most of the brandy had sloshed out. Her body winced when it caught a whiff, but she cradled it in her arms nonetheless, and then she looked back up at Seifer.
He was still staring at her.
"I . . ." But she never finished her sentence—not that she knew what it had meant to be. She was turning away, heading back to the orphanage and hoping that when she woke up tomorrow morning this will all have been a dream. Not once did she look back over her shoulder to see if he was still standing there. It wasn't to check if this was a dream, but because she was scared to. She was scared to look back and perhaps lock eyes once again with Seifer Almasy.
The next day
Nida had to wake her up the next morning. It was noon and her head throbbed with an unforgiving hangover. She hadn't gone straight to bed last night, rather she'd drunk the rest of the bottle and ended up tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep for hours as she imagined Seifer's expression. Never in her life would she have expected to see it, especially not staring at her. Fujin and Raijin, maybe, Squall and Rinoa maybe, but not Selphie. She was just Selphie, and Seifer was on this other world, almost.
Or, that's what she'd always thought. During the war, it had been Squall versus Seifer, and Rinoa fighting her past with him. The rest of the orphanage gang was there too, but farther in the distance, or like they were watching from the base of the mountain as the other three fought high above on the peak.
So why had life decided to place her against Seifer for the first time in ten years? Why hadn't it chose anyone else?
The words she'd screamed had been ricocheting around her skull from the moment of their birth, and now they were out, they were gone, she felt so empty and strange. The fear was still there, of course, the memories of the pain from the war, but now she had gotten it all out to someone important. What was she supposed to do with the leftover pain now?
Years ago, perhaps Dr. Kadowaki had cured all the others by talking with them, helping through their feelings, the aftereffects of the war, and set them on the path to finally being at peace. Selphie didn't regret turning down that offer of aid, but for the first time ever, she wondered how different things would be right now if she had indeed spoken to someone then.
The first person I opened up to was . . . Seifer?
"Selphie, you okay? Do you need anything? Water?" Nida asked, interrupting her thoughts.
"What?" She blinked out of her reverie and then cringed when she moved her head too fast. "Ugh. No. I'm fine. I just need to get something for my hang—headache." Slowly, she got to her feet and left Nida behind, heading down to the kitchen in her slept-in clothes from yesterday, outrageous bedhead, and smeared, crusty eye makeup.
No one was there, despite being so close to lunchtime. She smacked into the countertop, groaned, and then turned on the faucet. After it got ice cold, she bent over and drank straight from the gushing stream until she'd had her fill. Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned back against the counter, folded her arms, and stared at the floor.
Fuck.
Someone came into the kitchen. Selphie's eyes traveled up and her blood chilled when she saw Seifer. Their eyes locked a moment and then he was gone.
Selphie waited a few more seconds before she allowed herself to breathe again.
Another person came into the kitchen, and Selphie jumped, but then it was only Matron. She must have noticed Selphie's discomfort, because she gave the tiniest of concerned smiles and said, "Good morning, Selphie. Is everything well with you?"
"Uh . . ." Selphie cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck. A classic Selphie grin appeared on her face. "Oh, I'm fine. Slept late is all. It's been forever since I slept in this late. Ha. Ha ha."
Matron's forehead wrinkled, but she just glided over to the refrigerator and said, "You deserve some sleep, Selphie. You work yourself so hard here. I can't imagine how much you did in Esthar City." She opened the door and looked at Selphie over the top for a moment before bending over to find ingredients for lunch.
Esthar . . . Wish I was back there . . . Not that she hated it here. On the contrary, the orphanage was magical and perfect. She had enjoyed all her days here thus far, finding the imagination and free spirits of the children refreshing after the predictable natures of the people she worked with in Esthar.
And there was Matron and Cid, acting almost like parents to her, something she'd missed for a long time; before Garden, she'd only lived a couple years with her adoptive parents, and as much as she appreciated what they did for her, they'd had little time to make an impact. She was always moving, even back then, and they never could keep up. Matron and Cid understood her more, especially Matron, even if it wasn't from the most preferable of circumstances.
Selphie was thankful for her presence especially now.
But Seifer was here. Esthar City had no Seifer. Esthar City was free of anything. The effects of the war had faded surprisingly quickly in the nation. The people had learned and moved on, striving to be their best selves. And Selphie loved helping them achieve that.
The war was back here in the orphanage, surrounded by Selphie seemingly on every side now. There was the good side, Matron, and the bad side, Seifer.
"So how long is Seifer going to be here?" Selphie asked, monotone.
There was a particularly loud clink of glass from the refrigerator, but when Matron appeared, closing the door behind her, arms full of food, she looked unperturbed. She set the ingredients on the counter gently. "It changes by the year. Sometimes he only stays a week, sometimes longer. It depends on what we need at the time."
"And what do you need now?" she asked, still keeping out any emotion out of her voice, even nonchalance.
Matron set her hand on a block of cheese and she stared at it with gentle eyes. "I'm not quite sure."
Selphie looked away in the opposite direction of Matron, studying the blotches on a painting of a vase full of blue flowers.
"It's not my place to say anything," Matron said, "but if my words help in any way, then I have to try."
Selphie let her silence be the answer.
Matron continued. "I know more than most what happened to Seifer during the war. Ultimecia may not have been possessing him as directly as she was me, but that means in no way she was not possessing him as well. It was more his soul than his body. She dug her way into his mind and wouldn't let go, from the very moment he gave her the tiniest opening. The last time you saw him, in Timber, he was already gone, even if he didn't want to be."
Selphie's fingers dug into her skin, and her face scrunched up. The heat was returning to her eyes. I don't want to cry again, dammit.
"I won't say none of his actions were his own. There was a part of him that always strove for glory. Ultimecia fed off of that, used it to her own advantage. She twisted his mind into believing that if he did what she asked, all of his dreams would come true," Matron continued, her voice unusually quiet. "Though I wasn't there the whole time, I know it only got worse as time went on. By the time you faced him in Lunatic Pandora . . . I doubt he was even a shred of who he once was, who he always wanted to be."
Her words made sense. Selphie believed every single syllable. It made her feel worse about her tirade last night in the meadow. Of course she had every right to attack him like that, to let him know just how much he hurt her and her friends. But Seifer was suffering too. For as long as the rest of them.
How was Selphie supposed to hate someone like herself? Picturing him just as the enemy, as just another ultimate incarnation was so much easier than having to think about Matron's words. If Seifer was a victim too, in part, then who else was Selphie going to exact her revenge on? Ultimecia was gone, Matron long since possessed, and any other players, Galbadian soldiers maybe, were of so little consequence. That left Seifer.
But the Seifer here was different than the one in Selphie's mind.
Her tears dropped to her arms, and she didn't try to stop them. They were silent. As long as Matron never saw her face . . .
"He's come a long way," Matron said, her voice stronger, more sure of itself. "There's only one more thing he needs to do now to be at peace. And when that day comes . . ." Selphie could hear the smile in her voice. "You'll be surprised if you talk to him. To see how much he's changed, grown more into the man he wants to be."
There was a sound, like Matron was turning back to the food, opening packages and untying knots. "Are you hungry, Selphie?" she asked, as if they hadn't just been talking about Seifer and the war, about things that hurt the both of them to remember and acknowledge.
Selphie let out a long sigh. "No. No, thank you, Matron." She pushed off of the counter and headed over to the medicine cabinet, popping four pain pills into her mouth. Just before she left, she looked over her shoulder at Matron, who had her back to Selphie as she was making lunch. She smiled a little and then headed out back towards the cliff.
The kids were huddled on the ground around Cid, who was reading a story to them. Selphie stood by and watched for a minute or two. Cid was the perfect story teller. He didn't let a single word go by unnurtured, and often set the book down so he could use both of his hands in grand gestures. Sometimes he even laughed at his own silliness, which made the kids laugh harder as well.
Selphie let them be and continued down to the beach, combing through her hair with her fingers until she imagined it looked presentable. When she finally got to the beach, she pulled her shoes off and sat cross-legged in the sand just in reach of the tide. The cool water gently brushed against her skin, and she let out a contented sigh.
She might have sat there for hours—her skin sure was feeling it. Her eyes were closed, and she sat in a limbo state, mind thinking nothing at all, but still awake.
That is, until someone bothered her. She heard footsteps in the sand, and when she opened her eyes, she noticed Seifer a little ways away, sitting in the sand, ignoring her, staring out over the water. She quickly looked away before he caught her staring, and she stared down at her palms. Quietly, she got to her feet, brushed off some sand, and scurried back up to the orphanage.
Once in her room, she remembered her shoes were still on the beach, but when she glanced out the window, Seifer was still there, so she opted to leave them there until it was safe to go back out again. Instead, she decided to take a shower; sitting underneath the freezing water, her eyes closed once more, hoping the water would somehow clean away the grimy feeling in her stomach as well.
Afterwards, she spent almost twenty minutes just staring at herself in the mirror. After ten years, her hair was almost exactly the same. True, it was a little longer, but she still styled it in the same way. She'd done it for so many years that it took less effort than breathing, almost. But now as she looked at her slowly, drying hair now, she was overcome with the urge to change it, even if for this one day.
It was nothing terribly dramatic, in the end. Her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail and her bangs trimmed to be more even across her forehead. When she looked at herself again in the mirror, though, the person looking back looked so different from who she was used to. Yet, the grey lump in her stomach, the grimy feeling from earlier, neither of them made an appearance, and if just for that, Selphie smiled.
She left the bathroom finally, put on a chiffon t-shirt and rolled up jeans and then was ready to face the world again. When she opened her door, she stopped, and her heart started pounding really hard. There at her feet rested her shoes she'd left on the beach, all cleaned up, not a trace of sand on them. Carefully, she leaned forward and peeked around the hall to see if anyone was still around, and then rested back on her heels again.
Before anything could change, she snatched the shoes and set them securely within the boundaries of her room. Then she closed her door, barefoot, and headed downstairs. She felt like a child looking around every corner to make sure Seifer wasn't around, but luckily, he ended up being somewhere else, and she could safely make it to the kitchen to grab an actual breakfast—lunch, now that Matron had finished. There was even a bowl in the refrigerator with Selphie's name on it.
Selphie took it outside with her. She stood amongst the pillars, looking out over the meadow, now bright green dotted with wildflowers, rather than the dark blue bathed in moonlight from the previous night. There were a surprising amount of big, fluffy clouds in the sky, and occasionally the orphanage was plunged into a few minutes of shade.
When she was finished eating, she found the kids and took over for Matron and Cid to let the older couple rest. Nida was there too, and for just a second, Selphie wondered where he was even sleeping. It had been two weeks, though, so wherever it was, it couldn't have been too bad.
Halfway through an arithmetic lesson, Seifer came casually walking in, already saying, "Hey, Cid, have you seen the scythe? The grass outside the garden's getting a little long and I don't want . . ." He froze in the doorway and stared at the multiple pairs of eyes on him.
Selphie was holding a flashcard in one hand, and she stared at him now as if she had been caught in the act of something terrible and embarrassing.
Seifer awkwardly looked away at the wall and said, "Sorry, I didn't . . ." And then he was gone.
Selphie set the flashcard on her lap and stared at it.
From beside her, Nida said, "Holy Hyne! Was that Seifer Almasy?"
The kids started whispering excitedly amongst each other. Selphie wondered if that was the closest they'd ever seen the monster-human hybrid himself.
"Nida, take over, will you?" Selphie asked, abruptly handing him the card deck.
"Sephy! Where you going?" one of the kids cried, and a whole chorus rang up, all the voices begging her to stay.
Selphie bent over, resting her hands on her knees, and smiled. "Don't you worry! I'll be right back. I can't leave your whole math lesson to Nida now, can I?" She giggled and the kids laughed with her.
"Hey!" Nida protested.
Selphie just waved him off and then slipped out. In the hallway, she glanced either way, and then headed in the direction of the tool shed. The place was empty of both tools and Seifers, and she didn't want to go into the shed itself, because if he was in there, that place was far too small for comfort.
She switched directions towards the garden, and as she was passing a column, noticed the scythe haphazardly resting against it. She backtracked a few steps and then bent over to scrutinize it. "What are you doing over here? Doesn't seem like a good place for a scythe to be." With a glance to both her sides, she picked up the scythe and rested it back and over her shoulder. "Sure is big."
Scythe in hand, Selphie continued her hunt for Seifer. She had no real desire to speak with him, but she couldn't leave everything where it was now. The easy part was over, the part where she could just attack him. But now she was sober, and the hard part was actually communicating. This time she had to hear him speak. Surely he had something to say, and despite everything, she owed him the time to say it.
She must have done ten laps around the house without seeing him. Eventually she came back to the tool shed, sweat sticking to her hairline, shoulder crying out for a reprieve from the scythe. "Where are you?" she said to herself in a sing-song voice. She turned 360, and right when she faced the shed again, Seifer's figure exited said shed.
Immediately, Seifer flinched back and his hand went to his hip, seemingly for a weapon that was no longer just attached there. When he realized who it was, and that the scythe wasn't actually the chosen weapon for his murder, he relaxed a little. "Fuckin' hell . . ."
"Found your scythe!" Selphie said in far too cheerful a voice.
Seifer looked at her warily.
"You should keep a better eye on your weapons. There's children around you," she reprimanded, swinging the scythe down from her shoulder and offering it to him.
Still eyeing her in slight suspicion, Seifer took the scythe from her and set it back against the side of the shed.
They stood in a few moments of uncomfortable silence, and then Selphie said, "Well, aren't you going to thank me? No one else helped you to find your stupid scythe."
Seifer gave his head a little shake. "What's wrong with you?" Right after it came out, his eyes widened, like he wished he could take those words back.
Selphie rubbed the back of her neck. "I . . . Well . . . Ha ha." The laugh died out of her, and she gave him a sober look. "I can't leave things like I left them last night. I talked to Matron this morning and . . . She knows more about what . . . what was happening with you. And she's Matron, right? So of course I listened to her . . ."
"What did she say?" Seifer asked, deadpan.
"I'm not saying you're off the hook from anything you did!" she said loudly, pointing at him. Then her voice got quieter again, "But, I know the war sucked for all of us. Even if it wasn't in the same way for you as it was for us."
Seifer folded his arms and looked away. "It's different when you're on the losing side."
We saved everything. We still had each other. But Seifer lost everything. Even Fujin and Raijin it looks like.
Selphie sucked in a huge breath. "Just tell me, because I really need to know this, more than anything . . . Did you ever try to break free? Even once?"
Seifer's whole body cringed and he looked at her again. His cerulean eyes were fierce, as was his tone. "I don't remember."
"What?" Selphie took a step back. "But . . . How can you not remember? I remember everything from the war!" Every little Hynedamned thing, and it's killing me, even now. Everyone else can seemingly forget, even you. So why am I cursed with remembering?
"You want to know what I do remember?" Seifer asked, eyes still ablaze.
Fear washed over Selphie, and something told her, No. You don't want to know. It will make everything worse. But had Seifer ever told anyone what had happened? Or was he like Selphie, always keeping her mouth shut unless it was to spew more lies to everyone she came in contact with? They had been enemies once, so weren't they perfect targets for the truth? Neither of them were worried about hurting each other with it.
So, in a tiny voice, Selphie said, "Yes."
"I don't remember because I don't remember anything of me," Seifer said. "I only remember her. When I go to sleep, all I hear is her Hynedamned voice in my ear. To me, she's not dead. She's still here with her claws in me, using me in any way she damn well pleases like she did in the war." He paused for a moment, gazing at Selphie evenly. "Do you want to know how?"
Selphie just shook her head.
"I made the biggest mistake of my life going with her," Seifer said. "At least I can regret that. That was the last time I was me until time compression spit me out in the Hyneforsaken desert. So does that at least answer your question?"
This time, she nodded her head.
Seifer turned away, but Selphie held out a hand. "Wait!" she cried, and he turned back again.
With another deep breath, Selphie straightened, clenched her jaw, and said clearly, "Seifer."
He raised an eyebrow, but still remained where he was.
"I . . . I think I'm ready to try and forgive you," she said. "It won't be easy. I still look at you and I . . ." Her fists clenched too, but she kept her cool, kept her voice calm and even. "I still look at you and all these bad memories from the war come back to me, but I know I can fight them. It'll be my last battle in the war, even if it's ten years later. So . . ." The next word killed her, but she said it. "Please . . . Don't run away and I won't either."
The breeze picked up, ruffling both of their hair as they stared at each other, and another cloud moved between them and the sun.
Everything was so strange. Just a few weeks ago, Selphie would never have imagined herself standing here in front of Seifer Almasy at the orphanage telling him she was ready to try and forgive him. They had been enemies, even just that morning, but now here they were, two people whose years wrapped around one another from the moment they lived under this roof as children. They were back again, this time older and at least trying to be wiser.
Seeing him brought back memories of the ice in Squall's chest, and Rinoa strapped to Adel, but it also brought back memories of Seifer chasing after Irvine and Seifer in his more aggressive version of hide-and-seek, and the time he found a frog out in the meadow and he and Selphie named it Rogey. The last two memories were only surfacing now, and the strength of their clarity, especially after being hidden for so many years, took Selphie's breath away.
When the cloud moved away, and the sun came back, Selphie saw Seifer's bright cerulean eyes still staring at her, this time not fierce or confused, but they were gentle. It was the same gentleness she often saw in Squall's eyes.
"Fine," Seifer said. He looked away before he was caught staring too long. Finally, he was reaching for the scythe. Like Selphie had before, he rested it back on his shoulder and then turned towards the garden. Over his shoulder, he said, "I'll keep a closer eye on the tools," and then he started off.
Selphie clasped her hands behind her back and watched him retreat. A new lump had formed in her stomach, this time more of a blue color, but she wasn't sure what it was there for. Ahhhh, what the hell, though! With one last look at Seifer, she skipped back into the house.
