Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is just for fun.
Saltwater
Chapter V
Quistis found herself staring mindlessly out of the kitchen window, fingers wrapped around a still piping-hot cup of tea. The vapours rose and twirled into absurd patterns before disappearing entirely as if they'd never been. Matron sat next to her, her own slim hands wrapped around a cup and smiling placidly at nothing in particular.
Outside the window, Seifer was digging. Matron had subtly hinted several days ago at wanting a new flowerbed and a new patch to grow vegetables in. She was planning on turning the orphanage back into its namesake. After the war, Matron had mostly spent the days recovering from her ordeal, and spending time with her beloved children, the children who she had so very nearly lost by her own hand.
Now she felt vital and stronger and she missed the vibrancy and raucousness that children brought to the stone house by the sea. The beach always looked strangely empty without children run up and down the shore, screaming like banshees and kicking sand at each other. With another vague smile, she recalled her children doing those same things. It was sometimes hard to imagine them any other way – in her minds eye they were always the same, always small and full of life, as opposed to the taciturn, hardened, battle-weary adults they'd become (with the exception of Selphie, who had somehow retained her youthful excitement, despite losing so many friends over the years).
Quistis became aware after several moments that Matron was looking at her, with the inquisitive, gentle expression that her face perpetually wore. Quistis twitched her eyebrow. She had become so used to being independent at Garden that she couldn't help but occasionally find herself being back at her old orphanage a surreal experience, much less than the women she sat with was her combined mother-of-sorts and former enemy.
"What is it, Matron?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing really," said Edea, her voice full of barely-restrained pleasure. She practically oozed maternal feelings. She switched her gaze to the window that Quistis had been staring at. "Seifer's looking well," she said. "I was worried that he wouldn't snap back to normal in his usual way, but he's healthy as a horse."
Quistis looked at Seifer through the pane of glass. He was wearing a faded black t-shirt, and a pair of work-trousers with suspenders, giving him a look that was overwhelmingly young and old at the same time. His cheeks had a slight flush to them from digging and there was a glow of sweat on his brow.
"He looks much better," Quistis said, cagily. Matron continued to eye her and Quistis buried her nose in her tea cup.
"He seems so much happier," said Edea, seemingly not noticing the frisson of discomfort that had settled on the conversation. Quistis nodded. Edea gazed out the window at what Quistis suspected had always been her favourite child. Quistis was convinced that she still saw him as an apple-cheeked boy, instead of the tall, imposing, broad-shouldered man he'd grown into.
"These last few years have been so hard on him," continued Edea. "He's suffered terribly, you know, after the end of the war." She laid a bejewelled hand over her heart. "My poor boy. It broke my heart to see him the way he was afterwards, so broken, so ashamed." She paused. "Not that he had anything to be ashamed of. He was only protecting me. It was my fault."
Quistis blinked. This was quite a dramatic speech for first thing in the morning.
Edea looked back at the tall blond man thumping a spade into the earth. "He was such a happy child."
Quistis raised an eyebrow at this. She remembered Seifer as a boy, and "happy" was not a word she would use to describe him. He had been boisterous and controlling, always trying to be in charge of the games they played, and then throwing a tantrum when things didn't go his way. He had been an angry, somewhat sullen child with the face of an angel, and Quistis couldn't help but feel that it was that sweet, bright face that had cemented him in Matron's heart forever as her troubled golden-boy. After all, everyone likes a screw-up, and although Quistis felt spiteful thinking it, Seifer certainly was one.
Despite Seifer's myriad bad qualities, both as a child and an adult, Quistis had to admit that he had an incredible charm that he could turn on and off like a switch. One moment he could be moody and temperamental, the next he was all one-million-watt smiles, piercing emerald eyes and so physically imposing and beautiful that even a nun would have trouble not turning into a giggling moron in his presence. It was an annoying quality to have, although Quistis felt that she had been more immune to it than most over the years.
During her years studying, training and being a SeeD at Garden, Quistis had always regarded Seifer with a sort of indifferent distaste. She remembered with a slight flinch that during that time she had been infatuated with Squall, but recalled that she had regarded the girls who threw themselves at Seifer with the same bitchy amusement that she assumed people must have felt about her chasing a boy who was never going to feel the same way. Seifer had been notorious at Garden for having a string of girls (never really girlfriends, as such, with the notable exception of Rinoa) and being one of the main causes for girls wandering around the halls with eyes reddened from crying or pawing nervously at a hicky hidden under a well-placed scarf. He had been much like any other good-looking boy - full of swagger, smarm and style, a master of provocative glances across rooms or hallways, knowing just when to turn on that brilliant smile and when to turn it off again. In short, he was a fairly exasperating person who Quistis had felt what somewhat beneath her notice.
Now, watching him digging a garden for Matron, Quistis felt ashamed of her previous opinion. Seifer was stil maddening, arrogant, bad-tempered and generally hard work, but he was also unfailingly loyal to the few people he loved, stuck to his convictions and underneath the sarcastic comments and biting insults that he threw at the unfortunate people he didn't like, there was a sharp mind. She had underestimated him.
Perhaps they all had, she thought, feeling shame-faced. Maybe the only person who ever had given Seifer the credit he deserved was Matron. Maybe if they had all considered him more than a swaggering, bullying imbecile, things wouldn't have turned out the way they had.
As if he could sense her thoughts, Seifer looked up at her through the glass pane, eyes slightly narrowed against the sunlight. Matron wiggled her fingers in a coquettish wave, smiling at her favourite boy. Quistis managed a crooked half-smile, struggling against the awkwardness of the situation. Seifer paused for a moment, as if affronted by this sudden flurry of female attention, before displaying a teeth-ridden, winning grin that reached his eyes. Quistis felt a little thud in her stomach at the sight of that white smile and hoped that Matron didn't pick up on the slight change in her pulse. It was hard to gauge what Sorceresses' picked up on and what they didn't.
When Quistis pulled her gaze away from Seifer, Matron was staring at her with a strange, almost gleeful expression. Quistis, ever the soldier, kept her face completely passive, giving absolutely nothing away, or so she hoped.
"You two have become quite fond of eachother," said Edea, now staring at her long, glassy nails.
Quistis wasn't sure if this was a question or a statement, and continued displaying her indifferent gaze. She went to speak, then thought better of it.
"You know," Matron continued, sipping at her tea, neat as a cat. "I think he was very touched by you helping him when he was unwell."
Quistis said nothing, keeping her gaze steady.
"I don't think he expected anyone to help," continued Edea, looking slightly sad. "And it's a shame." Another sip of tea. "He really is such a sweet boy when you get right down to it."
Quistis suppressed the urge to raise an eyebrow, whilst simultaneously suppressing the memory of Seifer standing on the edge of the rocks in his bare feet, briny water dripping from his laughing face. It was a memory she'd revisited more times than she cared to remember. He had been like some sea-god or a merman allowed to walk on land for one day out of ten years.
It had been a guileless smile. You didn't see many of those these days.
Quistis supposed that Seifer good count the guileless smiles he'd given on one hand since he had entered Garden. It was a sad thought. The heaviness of it seemed to pulled her towards the ground for a moment.
"Why don't you go outside and see how he's doing with my garden?" said Edea, with a slight undertone of steel in her voice. It wasn't so much a question as a gentle request.
Quistis thought about arguing, but it seemed an effort. She knew that tone although she was unsure why Matron was so keen to see her make idle conversation with Seifer about gardening. Presumably there was some deeper meaning to this, but Quistis chose to ignore the subtext.
Quistis stood up without a word, hearing the high screech of the wooden chair on the stone floor grate against the warm silence of the kitchen. She brushed down her skirt and took one last swig of her tea, still deliberately avoiding Edea's gaze. She walked out of the house towards the garden, feeling inside her a strange feeling of trepidation that had no right to be there. This was Seifer, after all. She had known him since they were both children; why did she suddenly feel this nauseating anticipation at being left in a situation where only the two of them were present?
A flash of white teeth, that wide, laughing mouth, gulls laughing back above the surf. Guileless.
A low thud in her belly answered the memory.
Seifer turned to look at her after hearing her footsteps on the stone path. He put one hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. With the light behind her she looked vaguely angelic or rather like something from one of his less filthy teenage fantasies.
"Oh," he said. "Hi."
"Morning Seifer," replied Quistis, inwardly cursing herself for making the words sound like she was about to teach a class. She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on her heels. "So... how's the gardening going?"
Seifer gave a short barking laugh. "Tough," he said. "There's so many weeds that it's bordering on being damn stupid. I can't believe it was left like this so long."
Quistis grinned. "I never took you for a horticulturist," she said.
"Naw," said Seifer. "I'm not. Gardening's just easy, I guess." He knelt down and ripped up another weed, revealing it's trailing roots. "Annoying, but easy." He sniffed himself. "I stink like a pig."
Quistis laughed. "I can smell you from here," she lied. "You're vile."
Seifer just laughed and Quistis felt her stomach do that not-unpleasant thud at the sight of it. It was a real smile; one that reached his eyes and make the corners crinkle. There was sunlight on his face and he was turning browner, the former whiteness of his illness finally leaving.
It was very pleasant.
Quistis stayed outside for longer than an hour, making idle chatter with Seifer, who strangely chatted back while savagely removing any offending weeds. Eventually Quistis got down on her hands and knees and started to help him, indifferent to the dirt that got under her nails or smeared on her face from wiping away sweat.
"You've got some mud," said Seifer, indicating to her left cheekbone. There was a smudge of mud like warpaint there. "On your face."
Quistis rubbed at the mark, but only made it worse. She laughed and then he laughed.
The laughter went on a little too long. The stare was a touch too intense. The smiles faded from their faces, revealing all the pent-up tension, the awkwardness and the overwhelming feeling something quite, quite wrong was happening. Embarrassment bloomed like a rose and killed the conversation dead. Quistis was vaguely aware of her heart pounding away somewhere in her throat.
Seifer went to speak, his lips parting very slightly. He must have changed his mind and said nothing. He turned back to the garden, his face set hard. Quistis said something awkward that she couldn't recall afterwards and headed back into the house, feeling overwhelmed, frightened and strangely elated.
She spent the rest of the day, and the following day, wondering what Seifer was going to say, wishing that he had said it.
Seifer lay alone in his room late that night with his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling with a frown on his face like he used to when he was a fresh-faced teenager. So many boyish disappointments about girls and exams and curfews in the Garden had been mulled over in this very same position. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears where his arms pressed against the soft conical of skin. His chest went up and down, inhale, exhale, repeat.
This disappointment was not boyish. It was hard to put it in a box, but Seifer knew that it gnawed at him and offended all the senses.
Today had been one of those bright, glaring, lovely moments in his life that were few and far between. The rare experience of laughing with another human being over something as silly and innocent as a smudge of mud on their forehead and the simple pleasure of planting things that grew. He had felt young.
Sometimes it took Seifer by surprise that he was young. His soul felt so old. It practically creaked inside his chest, like it was made of haggard wood and coated in dust.
Quistis had made him feel young. She had taken him back to a more innocent time when things like war crimes and fighting and suffering and death hadn't mattered and had been things that he had only been dimly aware of. Her laughter had been like a bright, shining shard of glass cutting into him. It had been glorious.
He sat up with a jolt, surprising even himself and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. With a strange determination he stood up, opened the bleached, creaking wooden bedroom door and walked down the hallway. It was as if he was on auto-pilot. He could see the light leaking out from under the door of Quistis's bedroom.
Before he could control himself he had banged his closed fist against her door, three times, hard. Then it was like he woke up. Seifer stared at his fist with horror, then at the door, before debating running back to his room and slamming the door. He felt like how he had the first time he had joined the Sorceress; dumb, confused, spellbound and moronic.
Quistis answered the door, of course.
She looked like a breath of fresh air feels to a drowning man. Seifer gawped at her stupidly. Her hair was down, ready for bed, and hanging around her face like golden curtains. Her face was bereft of all makeup. She was pale and watchful, like a little boy. Her feet were bare. Seifer had never noticed before how tiny they were. She looked like a fairy.
She blinked at him, looking almost as shocked as Seifer felt.
"Yes?" she said. Seifer detected a slight hint of breathlessness in her voice.
Seifer said nothing, opening and closing his mouth stupidly like a fish.
Quistis cleared her throat slightly and clasped her hands behind her back in a manner that reminded Seifer unnervingly of Cid.
"Seifer, have you got something to say to me?" There was a slight tone of hopefulness in her voice that made Seifer feel somewhat giddy.
He stiffened, green eyes briefly scanning her slightly-parted lips, her cascading hair, the boyish pyjamas, the absurdly long eyelashes. He coughed and stood up straight and the light left his eyes. The old Knight.
"No," he said. "Nothing at all."
And then he turned and retreated down the corridor, back to his bedroom, straight backed and tall.
He breathed and almost felt that he exhaled sawdust from his old, battered soul.
Seifer didn't hear Quistis's door close until he closed his own. He felt heavy, like his legs were made of iron. He lay back down on his bed, but this time his hands weren't behind his head. They were covering his face.
Sorry for the long wait, everyone. I promise it won't be as long a wait next time. Remember to review! Feedback is always great to read.
-Lux
