12
CHAPTER 12 – THE PRICE OF A DREAM
The north-bound continental express had wound along its route all afternoon, tracing the curving edges of Obel Lake up through the eastern occupied territories. True to Zone's word, the carriages were packed to the brim; the party had spent the first several minutes scouring the train for the last remaining open seats. Despite the cramped leg room of his middle seat between two strangers, Squall welcomed the six and a half hour break from his comrades. It had given him ample time to process the morning's tightly packed-together events, nonsensical though they were.
Chief among them all was the sorceress. His rational mind still refused to believe he'd actually seen what he had. And yet, the sight had been too vivid to be a mirage, the spellcraft too unconventional to be the work of a Guardian Force. He recalled the monstrous undead creature aboard the president's decoy train. If this woman were capable of conjuring such a vile, destructive force, there was no telling what other horrors she could potentially wreak. Why she'd emerged from the shadows to aid Galbadia remained a mystery. For all of Deling's diplomatic bluster however, she certainly hadn't been appointed his ambassador for the purpose of any peace talks.
It was late afternoon by the time the train pulled into East Academy Station. The setting sun had come precariously close to dipping below the small stretch of forest to the west. A lengthy walkway trailed from the platform rest station to the trees, atop which a familiar floating halo poked out.
Relations between SeeD and Galbadia had not always been so tenuous. Indeed, in Balamb Garden's formative years, they had even been contracted to assist in the capture of the lingering northeastern territories. A business partnership had been brokered, resulting in the co-founding of Galbadia Garden. There, students were trained just as in Balamb, with the school's graduates to be divided evenly between both armies.
The turning point had come 9 years ago, with SeeD's acquisition of GF technology from Odine Industries. The Balamb administration had objected to the spheres' distribution outside of their Garden. Predictably, relations soured overnight, and had only grown more inhospitable in the intervening years. Galbadia Garden still remained in operation under joint custody, with each fresh graduate now drafted yearly to whichever of the two armies bid highest. Its ties to Balamb were all that assured Squall they wouldn't be handed over to the government on arrival.
The trees cast long shadows across the cobbled path winding through. Quistis led the way forward, seemingly reinvigorated since departing Timber.
"It should only be another mile or so," she eventually said. "Maybe less. I've been here several times for assignments and seminar classes. I know the headmaster pretty well, so just leave all the talking to me."
"You're sure they're not gonna just turn us in when we show up?" Selphie worried.
"That shouldn't be an issue once I explain our situation. For all intents and purposes, we're asylum seekers. I'll have to stretch the truth a bit for Rinoa, though."
"It's fine," the girl in blue said. The mounting chill forced her to pull her duster sweater around her. "It'll probably go a lot smoother if we just pretend I'm a SeeD, too."
"I… I'm worried about Balamb Garden," Zell spoke up. He slowed to a stop. "I mean, if anything happens, it's all my fault."
Squall too was concerned. Realistically however, there was nothing they could do. They were refugees in a foreign land; what personal belongings they'd brought with them had gone up in flames with the Forest Owls' hideout. The wheels were already set in motion, leaving them as helpless bystanders to fate's design.
"You really think the president'll retaliate like he said?" Zell wondered.
"I can't see him letting an attempt on his life go unanswered," Squall said as he came to a halt beside him.
"But… even if he does send in the army, everyone back home'll be able to fight 'em off, right? We've got thousands of students, and tons of 'em are fully trained SeeDs!"
"And about half are junior classmen still in basic education. Most haven't even started combat training. And besides, remember what we learned this morning? About that new AI guidance tech they've started using for their missiles? That's what I got when he said he'd reduce the Garden to ash."
Zell's hopeful expression withered and faded away. His eyes fell to the cobbled path below. As bitter a pill it was to swallow, it was the most logical means of retaliation for Galbadia to take.
"Oh, you're just such a great leader, aren't you?!" Rinoa snapped. "Do you actually enjoy being so callous?"
"The truth hurts sometimes," he told her. "It's like I said before, reality doesn't always work out the way you want it to. No amount of wishful thinking will change that."
"That's no excuse for the way you're talking to him! Zell's looking to you for support! Any kind of encouragement to make things easier!"
Running from the truth only makes it that much harder when the time comes to face the facts. Am I the only one who understands that? No, I'm sure Seifer…
"Don't you ever think about the well-being of your friends?!"
Damn, she's infuriating. She's actually giving me a headache.
"Are you even listening, Squall?!"
Wait… this sensation… it feels just like-
A sharp pain stabbed through his mind. He fell to one knee with a cry of agony, clutching his head in both hands. A familiar ringing overtook his ears.
"Squall!" Quistis yelped as she and Selphie raced to his side. "What's wrong?"
His mouth would no longer obey him. His entire body fell limp as he collapsed. His head twisted sideways to meet Zell's red sneakers. And before his vision faded to black, he could just barely discern the blonde's words over the persistent ringing.
"Hold on! This has happened before…"
"The map says it should be just over that ridge!" Laguna called back. He stowed the leaflet in his rear pocket, and glanced over his shoulder.
Kiros and Ward trudged on up the gravely slope after him, both men's haggard faces attesting to the grueling journey they'd faced thus far. They'd come ashore on the northern tip of the Centran continent several days earlier. From there, the lengthy hike across the desolate Serengetti Plains had begun. The rocky, mountainous terrain lay completely arid save for faint traces of vegetation; it was all that remained of a once prosperous land, now long uninhabited by mankind.
Their nights spent making camp were largely devoid of sleep. Strange, unnatural wildlife the likes of which Laguna had never seen roamed the barren land. He'd heard all kinds of stories from soldiers dispatched to the continent on prior surveillance outings, and of the monsters they'd claimed to have encountered: from hulking mantises twice the size of a grown man, to a colony of bi-pedal lizard creatures wielding hand-crafted knives.
As a precaution, he'd made sure to bring along a surplus of ammunition; it hung across his chest from a pair of entwined bandoliers. He'd been right to do so. The wildlife they'd run across thus far had matched if not exceeded his expectations: massive bear monstrosities with four pincer-like claws protruding from their torsos, slithering slug creatures spewing oil from their tube-shaped mouths, and hunched dragon-like monsters with razor-sharp tails. Fording the hostile environment was more strenuous and nerve-wracking than anything Laguna had experienced before. He was both physically and mentally drained, to where he could now feel the buzzing sensation coming on yet again.
Once we're done with this one, I think I'm gonna call it a career.
"If we're that close, then maybe try keeping your voice down?" Kiros advised. "We're here for recon, not to start a commotion."
"Yeah, I know. But something tells me it's not gonna be that cut-and-dry."
"When did you turn into such a pessimist?" Ward snorted as he brought up the rear. "Things not work out with you-know-who? You can't keep it from us forever."
"I told you, that's none of you guys' business! And no, it's nothing to do with that. It's just… I dunno, maybe being so on edge these last few days is gettin' to me. I've just got a bad feeling about all this."
[Why does this keep happening?]
"Seriously, a really bad feeling."
"Let's just keep our heads down, and get through this, then," Kiros said. He patted him on the shoulder and took point. "We ought to be well behind enemy lines by now. Stay on your toes."
Laguna sighed, and swiveled to follow suit. He trailed his comrade's swaying dreadlocks towards the ridge just ahead of their position. Discomforting as the buzzing in his head and the pit in his stomach were, they had a mission to fulfill.
They'd been deployed to investigate reports of an Esthar infantry battalion amassing in the area. Thus far, most of the fighting had been confined to the waters and airspace off Galbadia's west coast. With Timber now secured, a reinforced brigade had been established on their side of the Horizon Bridge. Likewise, more troops had recently been dispatched to the northern snowfields to assist Trabia's civilian militia, where enemy forces had reportedly begun advancing on the region. With all other access points cut off, the southern continent of Centra now stood as the sole remaining avenue for an invasion.
It was hallowed land, regarded in history's annals as the ancient cradle of civilization. It had flourished over the course of many millennia, paving the way for both the Dollet and Esthar empires to follow in its wake, until its sudden end 80 years ago. Overnight, the land itself had been torn asunder by what was now theorized to be a meteor strike. The entire continent was obliterated, reduced to a fragmented wasteland. There had been no survivors on record; what few traces of the Centran legacy still stood amid the rubble lay in ruins. All at once, hordes of monsters sprung up across the desecrated land, rendering any attempt at restoration impossible. And so, the once mighty civilization faded away into legend, its remnants abandoned and left to the wilderness that had claimed it. The inhospitable terrain put an assembling army at great risk. The question now was whether Esthar deemed it one worth taking.
Laguna surmounted the ridge to join Kiros. He crouched by his side, and swept his eyes across the lay of the land. A winding trail traced the edge of the cliff, lined by steel guardrails to prevent a fall to the crashing waves below. According to the map, they'd been bound for the crater's northern edge, the great schism which marked the exact spot where the continent had been ripped apart so long ago. The vista was breathtaking to behold. And yet, it was the bulging protrusion further along the cliff-side that stole his attention.
A gargantuan mass of pale green crystal jutted out from the rock face, easily 100 feet in both height and width. Metal scaffolding ran all about its frame, the armored figures moving about its walkways appearing as gnats by comparison. Cranes, automated drills, and other assorted construction vehicles lined the ridge on both sides. This was no infantry battalion, but an excavation operation.
"Holy shit!" Laguna sharply breathed in.
"Well, there's something you don't see every day," Kiros agreed. "You think it might be a piece of the meteor that wiped everything out?"
"Could be," Laguna pondered.
He could scarcely take his eyes from the giant mass of shimmering stone. As he feverishly looked it up and down, a new idea occurred to him.
"How much do you think it's all worth?"
"I don't think I can count that high," Ward answered. "And good luck trying to haul it all out."
"Looks like that's what they've got in mind, though," Kiros muttered. "I guess they've got their android workers to handle the worst of it. But, hey, at least they're not gearing up for an invasion, like we thought. I suppose that's mission accomplished. Time to head back."
"Y'know… it's been hell just gettin' here," Laguna started. A mischievous grin crept across his lips. "I'd hate to go back empty-handed. So, what'dya say we nab us a few souvenirs for our troubles?"
"You're joking," Ward shot him down, his face the very image of incredulity. "You think you're gonna just walk in, carve out a chunk, and walk back out? If you wanna try, be my guest, but you're going it alone."
"I'm with Ward," Kiros backed him up. "Don't let greed be your undoing, Laguna. Think about the mission."
"Screw the mission!" Laguna snapped. He rose from his knees, and turned to face them. "This's been a long time comin', but as soon as this op's finished, I'm cuttin' ties with the army. I've been thinkin' it since Timber, and I've finally made up my mind. I don't want any part of this damn war anymore!"
He cast his mind back again to the burning woodlands. As he'd watched the mammoth funeral pyre consume the lives of thousands, so too had his own will to fight been ripped from him and tossed on the kindling. He could never bring himself to serve such a cause. He knew his true calling lay elsewhere. His all too brief evening with Julia had been the final push he'd needed to take the plunge, to pursue his dreams just as she longed to pursue hers. The time for idling was long past. Now was the time to take action.
"It's time to start livin' life on my own terms! I'm finally gonna start my career as a journalist, like I've been tellin' you guys. And with just a little bit of that crystal, I'll have the funds to make that leap comfortably. So, just humor me this one time, will ya? Show a little support for a man when he needs it!"
[He knows what he wants in life. Good for him, I guess.]
Maybe this feeling's my conscience telling me when something's the right thing to do.
"Laguna," Kiros spoke, his eyes tightly shut as he fought to remain stoic. "We've always supported you. And it's because we support you that we aren't going to let you throw your life away on a whim. You're not thinking straight. You need to calm down and take a step back for a minute."
"And let the biggest opportunity of my life slip by? Hell, forget me, this could be a big break for all of us! Don't tell me you guys are okay with what happened back in Timber. We're turnin' into the bad guys here!"
"And how's getting yourself killed going to help?" Ward warned him; his tone was unusually sincere. "I've got plenty of issues with this war, and if you want out, I won't blame you for a second. But Kiros is right. You can't just go rushing in half-cocked. I'm telling you this from experience."
He pointed his thick index finger to his scar; it trailed the left side of his face from his bandanna down to his stubbled beard.
"This is the price you pay for being reckless."
Those piercing blue eyes of his were more serious now than Laguna had ever seen. His own fell away to the gravely mountain terrain at his feet. He knew his squadmates' rationale was sound. He recognized the danger involved. He understood how slim his chances were. And yet, for the sake of starting his life anew, to pursue the dream Julia had encouraged him to shoot for, the risk seemed worth it. He had nowhere else to go should he resign from the army. Fate had suddenly offered him a boon in his hour of need. To let it pass him by was something he could never come to terms with.
"Don't make the same mistake I did, Laguna," Ward's voice met his ears again. "We're only looking out for you. As your comrades… as your friends."
Laguna raised his head slowly, brushing away the strands of lengthy dark brown hair. His eyes instantly shot wide open in surprise. A platoon of four Esthar soldiers in sleek armored bodysuits crept up behind the two. Their glaives were drawn.
"Get down!" he shouted.
He frantically fumbled over his shoulder for his assault rifle, but he was too slow. The nearest soldier leapt for Ward, and drew the blade across his neck. The hulking man's eyes went wide; he began choking as a streak of crimson spilled down his armor. Kiros spun around, drew his katars, and promptly sliced the attacker to ribbons in a whirlwind of blood-red steel. Ward fell to his knees, both hands clutching his gullet. Laguna roared in despair. Finally having retrieved his rifle, he unloaded a barrage of bullets into the remaining three. The soldiers jerked in place as the rounds tore through their bodysuits, and fell to the ground.
"Ward!" Kiros yelped. He sheathed his blades, and knelt beside his friend's still convulsing body.
Laguna turned his gaze back to the excavation site. In the wake of his weapon's fire, the metal scaffolding surrounding the crystal was now positively abuzz.
"It… it was… fun… you guys," Ward faintly eked out as Kiros began wrapping bandages around his neck. His voice was shattered.
"Don't talk like that, man!" Laguna ordered. "In fact, don't say another word! Save your strength, 'cause we're gettin' outta this!"
He reached down to his utility belt to retrieve the wireless com-link they'd been provided. He grabbed Kiros' arm, and shoved the device into his palm.
"When you're done patching him up, get him back down and radio for evac. I'll buy you some time."
"You're not still going to try what I think you are?!" he gasped.
"Just get a move on!" Laguna commanded. He shoved a fresh magazine into his assault rifle, and pulled back the loading mechanism. "I'll see you on the other side… whichever one it ends up being. Thanks for everything. Both of you."
He quickly swiveled away from his comrade's horrified face, and tore off along the edge of the ridge. Gunshots erupted from the scaffolding, peppering the cliff-side all around him. He returned fire without breaking stride. The bodies of enemy soldiers slumped over the railings, and plummeted down to the crashing waves. His determination kept him pushing forward; if today would indeed be his last day of service, he would cap off his tour of duty in a blaze of glory.
His friends truly had always been there for him when he'd needed their support. Now was his time to return the favor by providing a diversion for them. If he could manage to nick a piece of crystal in the process, all the better. It was a long shot, but he refused to stop now. His dream might not have been a grand one, but he knew in his heart it was one worth fighting for.
He drew ever closer to the massive crystal, mowing down any soldier that stood in his way. He slid to a halt beside a thick crane cable; it stretched down roughly 30 feet to the excavation site's base level. Below, dozens of infantry swarmed about like a frenzied ant colony, several hauling a set of heavy machine gun turrets into position. Laguna grabbed both grenades from his belt, pulled the pins one after the other, and lobbed them over the edge. He seized hold of the crane cable with one arm, and swung himself over as they detonated. The surviving soldiers scattered. He unloaded into them with his rifle as he dangled precariously above. Even as the recoil threatened to send him flying off the cable, he maintained his grip, only letting it slacken once he'd expended every last round.
He carefully slid himself down into the smoldering fray. What soldiers hadn't been caught in the twin explosions lay riddled with bullets. He quickly ejected the empty magazine, and grabbed another from his bandoliers. The crystal sphere towered immediately before him, shimmering in the late afternoon sun. All around lay the toppled and smoking remains of drilling equipment, blown apart by the blasts. It mattered little to Laguna. All he needed was one functional piece of equipment to carve out a small chunk. Even a pickaxe would suffice.
Approaching footsteps from beyond the veil of smoke caught his attention; they sounded significantly heavier, and more methodical in rhythm. Three more Esthar soldiers stepped forward into the fray, and charged him with their glaives extended. Laguna raised his rifle again, and fired. To his horror, the bullets did little to slow their approach. Sparks flew from the exposed mechanized exoskeletons beneath their uniforms.
Androids?!
He barely managed to shift his weapon into a parry as the first robot soldier rushed him. It brought its glaive down on the body of the outstretched rifle. The force of the blow was far stronger than an average soldier's, sending his feet skidding backwards. The second leapt in from the side at that moment, forcing him to backpedal away; the blade swooshed through the air where he'd been standing just before. Without any time to catch his breath, the third charged in from the left, its elbow lowered into a ramming position. It slammed into Laguna's chest, knocking the wind from his lungs.
He barreled backwards, and toppled through the railing at the edge of the precipice. And then, before he knew it, he was falling. He stared up in shock as he plummeted to the water's surface. The wind whipped through his hair. He shut his eyes in dread anticipation.
Looks like this really is my last day on the job. Kiros, Ward… I'm sorry…
Squall shot upright with a gasp. His head and heart were pounding, his nerves on fire. The fall had been so real, so terrifying, and he so helpless to do anything to stop it. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, willing his pulse to slow. That he was back in his own body was his only comfort. Being the fourth time in two weeks, it was now obvious that these visions were something more than mere dreams. He couldn't fathom the cause, nor if what he'd experienced each time were reality or his own twisted imagination. Whatever the case, they were remarkably life-like; he could feel Laguna's emotions, and practically hear his inner thoughts. It frightened him to consider what might happen if he were to die in that world.
Is that what just happened?
The pounding in his chest and head slowly receded. He finally lifted his eyes from the crimson duvet, only then realizing he had no idea where he was. It looked to be a spacious infirmary wing; the grey walls were far more drab than Balamb Garden's, illuminated by dim fluorescent lighting. There were no windows, nor a physician on standby. Bed after bed lined the wall, each with a small metallic nightstand beside; his gunblade stood propped up against the one next to his own. Not a single other was taken. The room's cold, lifeless atmosphere seemed more akin to a morgue than an infirmary. Perhaps he had died after all, and passed into purgatory, where he now waited to be judged for his life's deeds.
The automatic door across from him hissed open. In stepped his only proof he had not departed the mortal realm.
"Squall!" Rinoa blurted out.
She rushed to his bedside, and threw her arms around him. Just as before, the sudden lunge briefly registered as an attack. Disoriented and confused as he was, his reflexes wouldn't have been quick enough to counter her regardless. She clung to him for about five seconds before he gave her a pat on the shoulder.
"Are you okay?" she asked as she released the hug. "The way you just collapsed really freaked us out. Zell said it's happened before. Are you sick?"
"I'm fine," he insisted. "Just exhausted, that's all."
"I know we've put you three through a lot today," she sighed, her worried look turning glum. "And, uh… I think I might have said too much before. You know, in the woods. I'm sorry, Squall. I should've just kept my mouth shut."
He remembered her choice words to him on the trail. It suddenly occurred that they'd been eerily similar to Zell's before his previous episode on the intercontinental express. Could there have been a connection? Was it some series of words or emotions that had somehow triggered the fainting response in him? The notion was ludicrous, but then, nothing else about the situation seemed to make any more sense.
"Forget about it," he played it off. "So, I take it we're in Galbadia Garden?"
"Yeah," she confirmed, standing back up. "Zell carried you here after you collapsed."
"You know, you're a lot heavier than you look."
The comment came from the door. The tattooed blonde stepped on through, followed by a giddy Selphie.
"Great to see you're back up a lot quicker this time!" the girl beamed as she pranced over. She strode up along the opposite side of the bed from Rinoa, beside his gunblade. "Let's hope that means you're getting better."
"That reminds me," Squall grunted. He raised his wristwatch to his eyes. "How long was I out?"
"A bit over a half-hour this time," Zell answered.
"A half-hour?"
Squall mulled over the curious time frame; once again, it seemed the time he'd been asleep directly correlated with how long he'd spent in Laguna's body.
"Yeah, good thing we didn't have much further to go. I just hoisted you over my shoulder and set you down here once we got in. Guess we're even for the piggyback ride, huh?"
"Thanks," he mumbled. He could hardly believe the incident in question had happened that very same morning.
"After we dropped you off, the three of us went to go grab a bite in the cafeteria," Rinoa explained. "Quistis went to explain our situation to the headmaster. We agreed we'd meet back here."
"And do we have any news?" Squall asked. "Anything about the Garden or Seifer?"
"As a matter of fact, yes," a familiar voice called from the doorway. Quistis entered, brushing her blonde fringes from her face. "But before that, are you okay? Zell and Selphie said this has happened before."
"I'm fine," he insisted, growing irritable from the constant pestering. "Just tired. I'll be alright once I get some rest."
"If you say so," she muttered as she reached the foot of his bed.
"So?" Zell asked. "How'd it go? What's the news on the Garden?"
"Firstly, Headmaster Martine understands our situation. He's arranged guest rooms for us."
Quistis reached into her back pouch. She procured a set of keycards, and fanned them out.
"Only four?" Squall frowned.
"I think it's better you stay put here, in case your condition changes again," she explained.
"Whatever," he muttered as the three around him each took a card.
"As for Balamb Garden, it's safe. Seifer's attack on the president was classed as an independent action. That's why the additional troops were withdrawn from Timber earlier. The government released an official notice that SeeD is not being held responsible. So, on that front, we can all breathe easy."
Zell let out a sigh. Squall shared his relief, but continued to hold his breath; there was still the matter she hadn't yet addressed.
"So, you're saying Seifer's taking all the blame?" Selphie put his concern into words.
Quistis hesitated; she closed her eyes, and bowed her head. The question hung in the air for an uncomfortably long time. Squall intuitively knew the answer before it left her mouth.
"His... his sentence has been carried out."
The infirmary's unwelcoming chill became a freezing tundra. The faces of the three around him all gaped in awe. Squall had expected as much from the moment Seifer had been swept away by the sorceress' dark magic. Even so, nothing could have prepared him to actually receive direct confirmation of it. Seconds passed in silence. Finally, Rinoa collapsed to her knees, burying her face in the duvet by Squall's thigh.
"He… he was executed?" she whimpered. "Of course, he was… he attacked the president. He sacrificed himself… just to help us… just to help our cause."
"I'm sorry," Quistis gently replied. "But I'm sure he was prepared for it. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come all this way. I didn't believe it when he said it, but… he really was just fighting for what he believed in. To follow his dream, and to make a difference for the people who were important to him."
'Follow his dream…'
Squall recalled Laguna's own determination. Foolish though it might have been, he too had taken a stand for a future he believed in, and paid the price for it. Seifer was fundamentally no different. After his time spent in the body of the hopeless Galbadian soldier, who'd aspired for more than what life had dealt him, he now understood how his rival must have felt.
"Damn," Zell swore, his head hung in despair. "I never liked the guy, but… executed? That's just…"
"I… I really liked him," Rinoa sniffled. She clutched at the silver ring she wore around her neck. "He was confident, smart… sometimes childish, but always so sweet. Just by talking to him, I felt like I could take on the world."
"So, you two were… pretty serious?" Selphie asked.
"We met last summer… we made so many good memories together, and… I think… maybe it was love?"
"Do you still love him?"
"If I didn't, it wouldn't hurt this much!" she bawled. She pressed her face further into the mattress.
"It's… hard for me to think of many good memories of him," Quistis spoke; tears had begun spilling down her cheeks. "I've seen some troubled children before, but he was beyond troubled. I knew he must have been hurting deeply under it all. No matter how hard I tried, he'd always refuse my help. You must have something really special to have gotten him to open up like that. Something… I could never have…"
The more Squall listened to the impromptu wake, the more intensely his stomach churned. For better or worse, whether esteemed or infamous, Seifer had left a lasting impression on them all. Now, as they mourned his passing, he'd ceased to be a man, and become only a memory, his legacy free to be twisted and remolded as each saw fit. That even Quistis and Zell sought to find something good to say about him was telling. Would he have wanted to be remembered with such pity? It led Squall to wonder if Laguna's own teammates would have done the same. Would they have looked back on him with such melancholy, and allowed their memory of him to be perverted by his tragic end?
Will they… talk about me like this when I die, too?
The thought was too much to bear. He clutched the sheets in fury. He would not stand to have his memory tarnished and twisted by those who knew nothing about him. There would be no eulogy for him, no gathering of his closest friends to trade stories of how he'd affected their lives, and certainly no pity for a man who'd lived his life without direction, without any dream for his future until it inevitably passed him by.
Not for me…
"Squall?" Quistis called to him. "Are you okay?"
"I won't have it!"
He viciously thrust the sheets off, swung himself out of bed, swatted Selphie aside with one hand, and snatched his gunblade with the other.
"Are you mad?!" the battered girl shrieked.
He stormed on by her and out the infirmary door. He navigated the Garden halls in a furious haze. He had no idea where he was going, and neither did he care. All he needed was a place to be alone, from everyone and everything. Corridors and faces flew by in a blur; none registered to him for more than a second. He pressed on for what felt like hours. By the time he finally reached the main entrance, he couldn't possibly have retraced his way back even if he'd wanted to.
He emerged onto the ornately decorated front pathway, passing the grand stone fountain to the flower beds on the edge of the grounds. The sun had fully set by now; the floating halo above was the only light that helped him find his way out into the fields. He finally settled on a patch of grass on the Garden's out-most perimeter, lay down on his back, and gazed up at the starry night sky. It was as picturesque as he'd seen it through the ballroom's domed ceiling nine days ago, when life had still been so simple. The cool breeze washed over him. Slowly, his seething anger began to dissipate. And yet, for what comfort his isolation provided him, it could not mend the strain on his heart.
He couldn't remember when they'd met, or how, only that he and Seifer had been rivals for as long as they'd attended Balamb Garden. The boy had been his nemesis, his tormentor, and the hotheaded devil on his shoulder. But, more than all that, he'd been his inspiration. He'd given him the drive to push himself to become a better fighter. He'd lived life by his own code of honor, on his own terms, the way Squall wished he could. He was both his greatest enemy, and his ultimate ideal. Now that he was gone, what drive did Squall have left to improve himself? What did he have left to give his life purpose? Seifer had found his, and gladly paid the price for his romantic dream.
Where… where is my dream?