Five


Ellone couldn't believe how tall and beautiful they'd all grown. When she left, they were still children, their faces and bodies soft and round with baby fat. She still thought of them that way, but they weren't kids anymore. Every one of them left childhood behind some time ago, the baby fat melted away by an improper diet and hard work. Their innocence had been replaced with a hard-edged awareness that life wasn't fair.

What happened in the time she was gone, besides the obvious onset of puberty, to make them that way? It wasn't war. Galbadia's forces had not yet reached this far.

Something else, then.

It was obvious from the shabby state of the house and the near-barren cupboards that life here at the orphanage did not improve upon Ellone's departure. The house was clean, if not a little cluttered, but the ancient appliances did not fare well over time, and there was evidence of water damage in a few places. The curtains were faded and brittle to the touch, broken windows were boarded over rather than replaced, and the couch looked to collapse if one more person sat upon it.

What went on after she left?

"Where's Cid?" she asked as she guided a muttering Edea to the nearest chair. "I need to talk to him."

They exchanged glances. Eyebrows raised and lips pursed, and Ellone suspected he was the reason for the poor state of the place.

"Good luck with that," Seifer said and stalked from the room.

"Seifer-" she began and stood to follow, but Zell stopped her.

"Just ignore him," he said. "He's got pissed about basically everything."

"Why?" Ellone asked. "What happened?"

"Everything," Quistis said. "And nothing." She gestured around the room. "All of this."

Squall leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded tight across his chest. A thread hung from the partially unraveled hem of his shirt. There was a hole in his sleeve. He watched with impassive eyes and with a cool silence that Ellone found chilling.

"Cid drinks a lot, ya know?" Raijin said.

"ALCOHOLIC."

Ellone looked at their faces, one by one. Gorgeous, smart Quistis in a too-big dress, probably by design to prevent unwanted attention. Zell who was still so much smaller than the rest, his hands smeared in grease. Fujin with her penetrating stare and too-long jeans with the holes in them, Raijin, big and broad in cargo pants with frayed pockets and an inch too short.

And Squall, with his threadbare shirt and cold blue eyes, his beautiful face and closed off posture.

They were all so different, yet they all were so world-weary. They wore their poverty like a badge of honor. She sensed how tough it was for them without someone there to provide or look out for them.

Cid failed them.

"How long?" she asked.

"A long time," Squall said. "It got worse after Xu left."

Ellone sat back and rubbed her eyes. She would not cry over this. All hope would be lost if she broke, and she counted on Cid to be what fixed Edea, but as it turned out, he was just as damaged. In the end, nothing good came of their attempt to save her, and worse, the kids suffered the consequences.

That was her fault. She was the one to blame, and coming back was a mistake. They should hate her for being gone so long, for leaving them alone to fend for themselves with a caregiver who was too weak to suck it up and care for them like he should. If not for her, there would be no need to hide or run away or live day to day knowing nothing changed, nothing got better, only worse.

Beside her, Edea sobbed quietly into her palms. It was time to reunite the Sorceress with her Knight.

She got up and helped Edea to her feet and guided her down the hall to Cid's room. She knocked on the door, but Cid didn't answer.

"Just go in," Quistis said. "He never answers the door."

Ellone pushed the door open to reveal Cid sprawled face-down on the bed wearing only boxer shorts. On the nightstand were several empty bottles of cheap liquor, and one with less than half left.

He looked terrible. His complexion was sallow and pale and his eyes were sunken and ringed in dark purple. Judging by the bright red capillaries around his nose and the reek of stale booze in the room, drinking was more than just a hobby for Cid. It was more than just something he did to help him sleep or pass the time, it was an addiction, an escape, a hunger, and that too, was Ellone's fault.

Edea ripped away from Ellone's supportive grasp and flung herself at the sleeping Cid, and the sound of her sobs rose to a heart-shredding crescendo that Ellone could no longer take. She backed out of the room, on the verge of tears herself, and closed the door on them.

Let them sort it out. If they could each be the thing that healed the other, then maybe returning was not a mistake.


"RABBITS," Fujin said and dumped a freshly skinned and dressed pair on the counter. "TRAPS."

Zell poked at them, glad he wasn't the one who had to do the dirty work. He didn't mind cooking it, but the gutting and skinning grossed him out.

"CELEBRATE."

Zell doubted any one else was in the mood to celebrate. He wasn't, but only because the overall mood in the house was tense and weird. Ellone and Edea's return should be something everyone was happy about, but Seifer disappeared to the lighthouse to sulk, Squall was extra quiet, and Quistis sat by the window and thumbed through the brochure the Estharians left for her to look over. Even Ellone was somber and unsmiling. Only Raijin was unaffected by it, but then, Raijin found the silver lining in almost anything.

"I think there's still some potatoes in the pantry," Raijin said. "Maybe some carrots. Be good for a stew, ya know?"

Stew was best for rabbit, otherwise the meat was tough and gamy. Not that Zell could or would complain about the quality of whatever source of protein they could get their hands on. Rabbit was much better than baloney, but not as good as the fatty trimmings or the unsellable but still edible cuts of meat Seifer brought home from the butcher, but he could work with it.

Dinner was nearly ready when Seifer returned. Zell didn't expect to see him until morning, as it often went when Seifer was bent about something. In his hand was a bottle of spirits and it was plain to see, he was drunk.

"You're all going to Esthar," he announced and stabbed his finger at the air. "I'm not going to argue with you about it. You're going to pack your shit tonight, and in the morning, you're going to meet up with those Estharian guys and never come back."

No one said a word. Every face but Squall's registered surprise.

"I know y'all want to go," he said. "I think it's a stupid idea, but shit's gotta change, and staying here ain't gonna do anybody any good."

"Do you plan to join us?" Quistis asked.

"Fuck no," he said and took a swallow from the bottle. He turned his gaze to Ellone. "I've got other obligations."

"Don't stay on my account," she said. "If you want to go, then go."

"That's the thing," he slurred. "I can't, can I? You get the freedom to come and go as you please, you get choices and free will and I fucking get no say in the matter because you won't let me."

Zell didn't understand what that meant, but he wasn't so blind he couldn't see there was something more complex going on than drunk Seifer running his mouth about nonsense.

"Don't talk to her that way," Squall said.

"I'll talk to her any goddamned way I want. It's her fault," Seifer said, and Ellone winced. "Now go pack your shit."

Squall surged forward and shoved Seifer, hard. Seifer stumbled back, his balance and reaction compromised by drink, but he bounced back and took a wild swing.

His fist, still wrapped around the neck of the bottle, collided with Squall's forehead. The bottle broke in Seifer's hand and left a streak of red between Squall's eyes. Seifer had cut him wide open.

"Stop this," Ellone ordered. "Right now."

Seifer froze in his tracks, but Squall lifted his head, seized Zell's paring knife from the counter and slashed back. Blood poured from the wound the blade inflicted, but he didn't move, as if Ellone's demand rendered him powerless to return fire. More blood dripped from Seifer's hand to the dirty floor and made a ink-dark puddle that would be indistinguishable from the other stains on the wood once it dried.

"I said stop!" Ellone shouted and moved to place herself between the two. "I don't want you to fight!"

"You don't get to order me to do anything, Sis," Squall said. His eyes blazed and blood dripped from his chin. "You've got your lapdog for that."

"Stop," she said. "Please."

Something seriously weird was going on here. Whatever there was among the three, Zell got a bad feeling there was more to it than just a little jealousy.

"I'm not her fucking lapdog," Seifer said. "I didn't want this."

Squall's laughter was humorless and cold. He took a step back and wiped the blood from his brow. His hand came away red and he stared at his fingers with dull eyes.

"Fuck you, Seifer," Squall said, turned on his heel, and stormed from the room.

When no one moved or spoke, Zell followed Squall to their shared bedroom. A battered suitcase lay open on Squall's bed and he tossed handfuls of his meager belongings into it. Blood still ran down his face and dripped down the front of his shirt, onto the bedding, the floor, and his shoes.

"What are you doing?" Zell asked as he seated himself on his own bed.

"What's it look like?"

Zell didn't know what to say so he waited. If Squall wanted to talk, he would. If not, not even a crowbar and a hammer could pry it out of him.

Squall didn't have much worth packing. None of them did – everything they owned was someone else's trash. Most of what went into the suitcase was stained or full of holes or both. Zell thought it was best to take what was necessary and replace anything that wasn't later. He would bet they'd be wearing uniform in the army anyway, and wouldn't need a lot.

When Squall didn't speak, Zell got up from the bed, gently pushed him aside and handed him the most worthless of the t-shirts in the pile.

"You need to put pressure on that cut," he said. "Here, let me do this."

Squall stared. The parts of his face that weren't covered in blood blazed pink and his eyes still burned hot with an intensity Zell seldom saw in his taciturn brother.

"So what was that about?" Zell asked as he sorted through a wad of t-shirts.

"I don't know," Squall said. "Long time coming, though."

"What did he do to piss you off that much?"

Squall stared at the door that led back to the kitchen.

"Belong."


The Timber skyline was a ragged series of half-ruined buildings against the orange sky of dawn. There were no lights and no signs that the occupied city lived. Either this side was too decimated to sustain a population or the Galbadians imposed a curfew with rolling blackouts to conserve energy. It was probably a little of both. The citizens that weren't willing to comply were long gone. Those that were too afraid to resist stayed behind and were subject to Deling's cruel and ridiculous martial law.

Rinoa's heart ached to think of the victims of Galbadia's siege and what their lives must be like. Dollet was bad, but this boggled the mind. They bombed buildings with people still in them – suspected insurgents and rebels and those that plotted the fall of an empire. Even civilians that were just trying to get through it – women, children, elderly, ill, disabled. They were merely collateral damage, acceptable losses, useless sheep.

They were far enough away from the city limits that they were in no danger of being spotted by patrol. Any closer, and the risk tripled. What Rinoa sought wouldn't be found here, anyway. She just needed to see it for herself before they continued their journey to the refugee camps.

In the driver's seat, Irvine was fast asleep, his hat over his face. He snored softly and twitched from time to time, like he flinched from some dream-horror or shotgun blast he didn't expect.

Reluctant though he was to be part of this, he was the reason she summoned the courage to do this. Though he leaned toward cowardice, and talked of things he wasn't willing to do himself, he could be brought around. And though she put a gun to his head and made him drive, Rinoa didn't believe he would go along with this if he truly didn't want to. There were a thousand ways he could have brought her to heel, but he didn't.

He belived himself a coward, but a coward he wasn't. A coward would have called her bluff. A coward would have turned the car around and taken her straight back to her father.

He didn't believe himself a rebel yet, but he would. In time. Once he saw what they were fighting for up close and personal.

She took advantage of the downtime and rooted through the bag she found in the trunk containing a change of clothes and a handful of toiletries her father packed for her trip back to Deling City. There wasn't anything practical inside. No pants or t-shirts, just her favorite mini-skirt, a long blue duster without sleeves, and a tank top, along with underwear, a bra, a pair of pajamas, and her beloved combat boots.

It wasn't ideal, but it would do. She couldn't very well be driving around occupied territory dressed like she was going to a ball.

They would have to find Irvine some more appropriate attire, too. The suit and tie wouldn't go over so well, even if the cowboy hat lessened the effect.

She wished there was something to eat in that bag. She regretted not eating her dinner the night before, but supposed she would have to get used to hunger.

Outside, the morning was cool and the breeze chilly, but she stripped and pulled on the outfit her father picked out.

Hyne, he was still making decisions for her, wasn't he? Even now, she had no choice but to wear what he wanted her to wear. The only real vestige of herself was in the boots, and she tugged them on, laced them tight and gazed at the scuffs and scrapes on the toes.

If that was true, why did he pack them?

That was a question Rinoa didn't know how to answer.

Back in the car, Irvine snorted himself awake when she closed the door harder than intended. He smacked his lips and lifted the hat away from his face to blink at her with unfocused eyes. The pistol was trained on her torso.

"You're going to shoot me?" she asked.

Irvine grunted and pocketed the weapon.

"Trained response," he said thickly. "Soldier's always prepared."

"I'll remember that," she said. "Are you ready to drive, or do you need more sleep?"

"I could use some coffee is what I'm thinkin'," he said. "Some bacon and eggs."

Rinoa's stomach clenched and her mouth watered at the thought, but she didn't say anything because she didn't want Irvine's lecture on all the reasons this was a bad idea.

"If you can drive, then drive," she said.

He started the car and settled his hat back on his head, suppressed a yawn, and eased the car back onto the there, they turned west and headed for the coast in silence. For a while, Rinoa dozed but woke when the car came to a stop with the engine running.

"Didn't tell you to stop," she muttered and sat up. "What's wrong?"

"Gotta fuel up," Irvine said. "Tell me you got some cash on you."

Rinoa nodded and opened the door slowly.

"How do you like your coffee?" she asked.

"Cream, no sugar."

Inside the tiny service station, Rinoa located the coffee and filled two cups, then glanced at a selection of wrapped sandwiches. Her stomach growled.

Irvine entered the building and headed for the men's restroom while Rinoa considered their food options. Trabian tuna, chocobo salad, or ham and cheese. She grabbed two of the ham and cheese, a couple bottles of water, and the coffee, and headed to the register.

As she waited for the man ahead of her to pay for his cigarettes, the radio switched from old-time music to the news. She paid close attention, wondering if her disappearance had been reported yet.

"G-Army forces were deployed to Centra last night to stem the tide of dissenters gathering on Centran shores. President Vinzer Deling has declared the continent, which has no official government, an annex of the Galbadia and subject to Galbadian rule. Dissenters and rebels will be subject to the same No Tolerance policy set forth by the President."

Rinoa frowned as Irvine joined her without a word and she handed him his coffee.

"In other news, Balamb continues to resist occupation. As G-Army forces prepare a second assault, it is believed Balamb's forces were decimated in the last wave of attacks and what few remain will surely fall by the end of the week."

Deling was not content to conquer just one continent, just as Irvine said. He wanted them all.

She paid for the food, drinks, and gas, then followed Irvine out of the service station. There was no one around but them, nothing but farm fields for miles. She never knew this part of the world would feel so empty.

"Why Balamb?" she wondered as Irvine pumped the gas. "They have nothing Deling wants or needs. They just want to be left alone."

"Why does a rich man continue to make money where he can, even when he has more than he can spend in a lifetime?"

The answer was greed, but Rinoa wondered if there was more to it than that. Why was enough never enough for some people? Why were the greedy never satisfied?

"Ever been to Balamb?" Irvine asked.

Rinoa shook her head. She'd only seen it pictures.

"Not much there but it's real pretty," Irvine said. "I imagine it'll make a real nice playground for rich folks once they build some resorts and a casino. More money to be made on luxury than on fishing boats."

Rinoa considered that and climbed back in the car. Irvine joined a moment later and she gave him one of the sandwiches.

"Thanks, darlin'," he said. "I'm about outta fuel myself."

For the next three hours, she watched the landscape pass through stinging eyes. Irvine offered no conversation to pass the time, and Rinoa was too worn out to start one.

Finally, as they rounded a bend, Rinoa spied he a sea of makeshift dwellings set on a hill above the ocean.

They'd arrived.

Irvine parked the car half a mile off a dirt road, behind a cluster of trees. It was smart to do so, Rinoa thought. In case one or both needed to make a hasty exit.

"So..." Irvine drawled. "We walk from here."

They got out of the car and Rinoa grabbed her bag from the back seat.

"Then let's go," she said.

The camp was not as close as it appeared, and the day was warm under a cloudless sky. Halfway there, Rinoa stopped beside a small stream and splashed cold water on her face. Irvine stood above her, his skepticism shining through a half-hearted attempt at passivity.

"Don't say it," she warned. "I know what you're thinking, but I'm not going to wilt."

"If you say so."

"Anyway, we need to do something about what you're wearing," she said.

"Let me go check my bag for something more appropriate," he said. "Oh, my bad. Your pops didn't pack one for me."

Rinoa rolled her eyes, scooped up a handful of mud and flung it at him. It spattered his wrinkled but still pristine dress shirt and he gaped at her in shock.

"Are you crazy, woman?"

"No, you're just too clean," she said. "If that's all you have to wear, you might as well make it look like you've been wearing it a while."

He bent down, scooped up some mud of his own.

"Then I suppose you won't mind," he said with an easy grin, then mashed it into her hair and scalp. "How do you like that?"

Aghast, Rinoa mushed a handful of mud into his face and ground it in. He coughed, sputtered, then lunged forward and smeared as much as he could against the side of her face and neck. Rinoa shrieked and pulled away, but he caught her arm, gave her a tight bear hug and ground his body against hers.

"Ugh! You pervert!" She pushed him away and kicked water in his direction. "In your dreams!"

"There was absolutely nothing sexual about that, my friend," he said. "Just sharing the wealth."

"I doubt that," she said.

"Soldier's honor."

"I also doubt that."

"Don't dish it if you can't take it, my friend."

Rinoa wiped the mud from her eyes and removed a clump from her hair. Irvine held out his arms and turned in a slow circle.

"Satisfied?" he asked. "Am I filthy enough for your liking, or should I lay down and roll around in it for a while?"

She looked him over and pointed to the dirt. "Roll."

Instead, he took off the shirt, rubbed it in the grass and dirt while Rinoa rinsed the mud from her hair and face in the creek. Her hair was still gritty and felt like she'd washed it with motor oil, but it was better than nothing. With any luck, it would dry stringy enough to convince the rebels they'd traveled some distance without the opportunity to bathe.

Irvine held the shirt up for her inspection. She found it acceptably filthy.

"Your pants are still clean."

"If you want in my pants, all you gotta do is ask nicely, darlin'."

"In your dreams, cowboy," she said. "Come on, you still look too clean."

"It's gonna to have to stay that way," he said. "We ought to get a move on."

Rinoa agreed, but not before she made Irvine roll up his sleeves and cut a hole in the knee of his pants. He still looked like he'd come from money, even if he hadn't, but they could always lie and say he stole the clothes from a diplomat's suitcase at a train station.

They were greeted with a less than friendly welcome on the outskirts of the camp by a pair of men with hard, wary eyes and large guns.

"State your business."

"We're here to help," Rinoa said. "We have nowhere else to go."

"Camp's full."

"Please," she said. "We can help. Let us talk to someone in charge."

Irvine elbowed her in the side. She cast a glare his way, but he did it again.

"Please forgive my lady friend," he said. "She's tired and hungry and could sure use a drink of water, if you please. We don't want no trouble. We ain't the bad guys."

They exchanged glances. One nodded to the other and tilted this head toward the camp.

"Wait here."

They didn't have to wait long. A young man about Rinoa's age approached, a rifle slung across his back. A belt around his waist contained ammo, a hunting knife, and a radio.

"That's a nice weapon," Irvine said. "I hunt with one of those."

"A hunter, huh?" the young man said. "What do you hunt?"

"Anything, really," Irvine said. "I prefer large game, though. More of a challenge."

"Hmm. I'm Zone," he said and clutched his midsection as if in pain. "And you are?"

"Name's Irvine. This here is Rin. Feed us and give us a place to rest and we'll help out in any way we can."

Rinoa was annoyed that Irvine decided to speak for her, but she couldn't deny his approach was disarming. She nodded her agreement as Zone turned to her and examined her with keen interest. She hoped he wouldn't be one of those guys that only saw a pretty girl and nothing else. That was the last thing she wanted or needed.

"Could definitely use another hunter," Zone said. "Got a lot of people to feed. What about you?"

Rinoa's skill set was less accomplished, but at the very least, she could help with the kids. And it wasn't as if she was too dumb to learn.

"Whatever you need," she said.

"Ever dress a wound?"

"No, unless you count sticking a adhesive bandage on one," she said.

"Shoot a gun?"

The answer was also no.

"Can you cook?"

Rinoa shook her head. Zone looked at her doubtfully, as if to ask what she could do. It was that look that made Rinoa realize how woefully unprepared for this she was. Nothing Irvine said hit home until now.

"Well, you're not the only one," he said. "Welcome to the resistance."


Seifer's head ached.

In the wake of his altercation with Squall, Seifer was left confused, angry, and annoyed, but none of that was Squall's fault. At best, his little brother was a convenient target and alcohol never did anyone in this house any favors.

Squall, on the other hand, was furious with him, and Seifer suspected he knew the reason why. That reason sat before him to tend to his wound without magic. Old fashioned potion was apparently good enough for the guy she took as her Knight without consent.

No matter how many questions he had, Seifer couldn't open his mouth and ask them here, in front of the rest. They didn't know the truth about her, or about his connection to her. If he had his way they never would, but it wasn't a secret they could keep for long. Squall knew. Edea and Cid knew, and while neither were in their right minds, it was bound to slip.

It was better that they join Esthar. He didn't want to see them leave or go off to war, but what choice was there? Better than sticking around here waiting to be killed or sent to a work camp.

"Was that really necessary?" Ellone asked.

"He started it."

"So you decided to finish it?"

"I didn't strike the last blow, did I?" he asked. "You told me to stop. I stopped."

"I'm sorry."

There was an entire universe of regret in those two words. She was sorry for more than just ordering him to stand still while Squall carved his face open. It was more than that.

"Eh, if you hadn't, I would have done worse," Seifer said.

"I hope not."

"Probably."

Ellone mopped up the blood from his face like he was still a child and incapable of doing it himself. He didn't mind so much. He was too drunk to do a good job of it himself, and too weary of his life as it was to care.

At the stove, Fujin stirred whatever was in the pot and cast concerned glances over her shoulder. Beside her, Quistis rinsed the rag she used to clean their blood from the floor. Raijin looked at Seifer expectantly.

"Did you mean it? About us goin' to Esthar?"

"I meant it."

"But you gotta come with, ya know? Wouldn't be the same without you."

There was a part of Seifer that wanted to, but like he told Squall, his place was here. Perhaps Ellone could come and go as she pleased, perhaps she could leave him behind, but from now on, wherever she went, he was obligated to go. If he didn't have a choice in whether or not they were bonded, she would not have the choice of leaving him behind again.

"I'll stay."

"Seifer -" Ellone cut in.

"I'll stay, goddamn it."

The front door slammed shut and he exchanged a glance with Fujin as Zell returned to the kitchen.

"Squall's gone," he said. "Packed his stuff, just like you asked."

"What?" Quistis asked. "He took off?"

"Yeah," Zell said. "He's pretty pissed."

"He'll get over it," Seifer said. "That stew about done?"

"AFFIRMATIVE."

"Good. You guys eat. I'm going to bed," he said.

It wasn't to his bed that Seifer went, but to the lighthouse to finish the bottle. He wasn't so unlike Cid when it came down to it. Except, Cid drank because his Sorceress was gone, and Seifer drank because his came back.

The wind blew something fierce up top and he watched the lights in the house go out one by one until all was dark.

After all these years of waiting, Seifer was not prepared for this, or for how conflicted he was over it. He did not want to be owned, but owned he was, subject to her every whim and powerless under her command.

He slept sitting up and woke to a gray dawn and Ellone's silhouette against the stormy sky. His head pounded and his eyes were full of grit, but still he asked:

"Why, Elle? Why me and not Squall?"

Ellone didn't answer right away. She scanned the horizon and the clouds and then sagged against the railing, vigilant for any sign of the enemy.

"You were too little to remember that day," she said without turning to face him. "She showed up on the beach, all bloody, dying..." she pushed her hand through her hair and turned her gaze to the beach. "It happened fast. Up to that point, I thought I was safe, but it taught me, there's no such thing. Especially not when your Knight is a four year old you didn't choose yourself and the people looking out for you are almost as clueless as you are."

Seifer wiped his tired eyes and sat up.

"The hell you didn't," Seifer said. "If you didn't pick me -"

"There was a man who came with her," she interrupted as if he hadn't spoken. "Tall, blonde hair, a scar between his eyes like the one Squall gave you last night. He carried a gunblade and talked to Cid. I didn't hear what he said, but I watched him disappear. Not like a monster does when you kill it, but like he turned into vapor. And then there you were, inside my head, like you were part of the deal. Like you were part of her and I had no choice but to accept you."

She turned all the way around and bowed her head.

"I've often wondered if that man on the beach was you," she said. "Some future you, maybe, who came back in time to warn of something awful to come. I was never sure, but looking at you now I'm positive. I don't know how or why, but wherever you came from, you were bonded to her. She gave me these powers, but also you."

"That sounds like a bunch of bullshit," Seifer said.

"Maybe so," she said. "Doesn't make it untrue."

Seifer reached for the bottle of spirits to kill his hangover and found it empty. He tossed it aside and squinted at her.

"Let me go," he said. "I never wanted this."

"I've tried," she said. "A hundred times since you were a boy."

"I never even got a fucking choice!" he shouted. "And I never would have chosen this for myself!"

"And you think I did?" she asked. "You think I pushed Quistis and Xu and Selphie aside so I could be first in line to become the exact thing my family died to protect me from?"

Her voice was too loud, each raised syllable like a bass drum beat against the inside of his skull.

"I don't know," he said. "Stop yelling."

Ellone pushed away from the railing and joined him on the floor.

"They're packing up to leave," she said. "Just like you asked."

"Good."

"I don't want to think about them going off to war. I remember the last one. A lot of people died."

"They'll die if they stay here, too," he said. "At least they'll learn to defend themselves and get fed regularly before Esthar turns them in to canon fodder."

Ellone lapsed into silence and tightened her wrap around her shoulders. She placed one hand against the back of his and the cold flow of magic poured into him to ease his headache and the worst of his hangover. He was grateful she did it without question.

"Squall came back to say goodbye earlier," she said. "I think he was disappointed you weren't there."

"He knew where to find me if he really wanted to."

"Maybe he tried and you were too far gone."

That was a probability. Seifer slept like the dead under the influence.

"Don't you have ties to Esthar?" he asked. "I don't particularly want to be some army grunt, but I'll go if you go."

"I don't know," she said. "The person I knew could very well be dead. I haven't heard from him since I was little. Anyway, I should stay with Edea. I wouldn't feel right leaving the two of them here in the state they're in."

"Fuck 'em," Seifer muttered. "Cid hasn't given a damn for years. Why should I?"

"Because they need us, no matter what."

"They don't get to make decisions for us anymore, Elle."

"Us? You mean you and me? Or the others?"

"All of us."

"And what about you and me?"

That was never even a question. Like it or not, Seifer was her Knight, and in spite of his anger and resentment, he hadn't felt this whole since he was a child.

"You have a right to be angry," she said. "I don't know what's coming, or why, but I think we're going to need each other sometime very, very soon."

Seifer nodded at the sea.

"I think you're right."