Seifer had stepped aside as he entered the cabin and started to watch Squall evaluating the place. He can see the judgement there, can read it because he knows Squall like no one else does. Or he used to. Who knows if he does now. But it makes him bristle just a little. The place is shit for being abandoned for years, but he's done some work. The table mostly works, he made a stool out of a section of a log that he left standing there, and look, he even cleaned, resealed, and tested the fire place in the main room.
But the dismissal is a dismissal and he sighs before grabbing the bag.
"There's a well out back. Good fresh water. Haul some out. There's a big basin for cleaning in the kitchen. If I'm getting changed I'm getting a bit cleaned up too," Seifer insists.
He gestures toward a back corner with a stone oven and a big metal basin set into some more stonework. Seems like they had some things functional here.
Of course he's judging. He's looking for signs of someone who wants to live. Who hasn't resigned himself. For some small spark of the Seifer that had charged forward through life, damn the odds stacked against him. He sees it in small pockets and it makes him breathe a little easier, relaxing into the ramshackle home. The weight of Seifer's presence however is one that overwhelms. They haven't been cordial in years. His body is thrumming with an adrenaline that's trying to prepare him for a fight even if his brain can't pick out the signs of one brewing.
Can he do this?
No, that doesn't matter. He owes it to Seifer to try and he wants...he needs the closure of everything they never got to talk about. All those days leading up to the SeeD exam have burned through him, making an indelible mark on his soul. And then the morning of...Hyne, he has so many questions and he would give anything to put the gleam back in Seifer's eyes because it wasn't some ineffable force that drove it out, it was him.
Having something to do that isn't getting lost in his own thoughts is a gift he's not sure Seifer knows he's offering, but Squall nods, happy to take orders after shouldering the weight of command for so long. The fire is something he starts by hand, taking the logs stacked by the hearth and lighting with practiced ease. The stove earns the same treatment before he goes to lift the bucket dolly but he finally idles at the door. "Don't run." It doesn't sound like an order when he says it, but Squall doesn't linger in the weariness of his own words and instead puts himself to the task of hauling fresh water from the well to the cabin so Seifer can have hot water to wash up with.
Seifer scoffs at the idea of running. If this flight hadn't been enough, then there wasn't really a chance to get away, now was there? He sighs and moves to dig through the bag, pulling out sturdy pants, a long sleeve shirt that will probably be tighter on him now with the difference in his muscle distribution (especially with the weight loss), and some undergarments. Now that is the biggest blessing of them all.
When the water is brought in and poured into the stoppered basin, Seifer hauls his shirt off without hesitation. Maybe he should hesitate. No way to know how Squall will handle it.
The it in this case specifically being the heavy scarring on his back. Scars that definitely hadn't been there before the SeeD exam. Burns and cuts mar what was once flawless skin, and Seifer doesn't seem to be all that bothered by them, or all that hindered by their presence. His focus instead is on wetting a cloth in the water and wiping his skin off with it.
Squall isn't prepared. He'd known to some degree that there would be changes in both of them, that the war will have left its mark in different ways, but Squall isn't prepared for the brutality mapped across Seifer's back. It stops him in his tracks, the force of it sloshing a bit of water onto the floor from the extra buckets he's hauled in.
There is a hot, primal rage that roars silently through him and he knows it comes from Ifrit as much as it does himself. Like he'd smash through a city to protect you.
"Seifer."
His own dealings with the sorceress have left a mark carved into him, showing where he's been speared through with ice, but that had been achieved through the heat of battle. What he's looking at now as he sets the buckets down and approaches is abhorrent in its methodical nature. These are marks meant to hurt for the sake of hurting.
He can't touch. That's too intimate. It's too...familiar. But his hand outstretches for just a moment with the impulse. "Her work or someone else's?" He needs to know who to direct his fury and the way he almost visibly shakes with it. Maybe it's a symptom of their fucked up training, but he'd always been offended by Seifer's means of interrogation. They'd been so impersonal, like Squall hadn't been worth the effort. Garden had taught them more effective ways of extracting information than electrocution. He'd thought it was a symptom of Seifer being under the sorceress' influence but maybe he'd just been sparing him the worst of what she was capable of.
"Both," Seifer admits, the statement empty of any emotion. Just someone reporting on something innocuous happening. Maybe he once observed the time in such a tone. "But only ever at her will. There were repercussions for losing against you time again, Squall. Even if it took three of you, and ultimately a rare GF, to stop me."
He had been even stronger then, flooded with his mistress's power. And still he failed. Time after time. Punishment had been expected.
"Fujin and Raijin helped me recover, after. Every time, after, she'd toss me at them. They'd have orders to have me patched up and ready. I'd send them away when I could."
To protect them from Ultimecia's wrath. And now he's clearly sent them away again. Likely for their own safety.
Toss me at them. As if Seifer were some kind of rag doll in need of upkeep. He'd watched Seifer single-handedly kill one of the strongest GFs ever uncovered and this was his reward. Fire and pain. It had felt too risky, too obvious, to reach out to Fujin and Raijin before leaving but now Squall wishes he'd taken the chance. Not because he'd rather they be here in his stead but because he wants someone waiting for Seifer when they get to Esthar. People who will make him feel safe.
He hopes Nida will do what he couldn't. Maybe that's why Seifer's here, in his cabin. A safe space built upon whatever it was they might have had during their years as cadets. Squall sucks in a breath and is only too sorry to be what Seifer has instead.
"I didn't know."
There's a lot Squall doesn't know about Seifer anymore, what happened to him during the war and why he made the choices he did. He's come to find out just as much as he's come to offer a way out.
He can't take his eyes off of the gruesome work. If there's anyone left alive that's responsible, he doesn't think he has it in him to be as objective as he has been with Seifer. He used to pity Ultimecia for the cycle they've found themselves in. A story that will always end at the beginning. But now he wishes he'd derived more satisfaction from ending her. Could he be that kind of man?
"We're enemies. Why would you have known?" he asks, sounding irritated that the guy would ever suggest it. Instead he focuses on finishing cleaning his torso before pulling on the shirt.
"No," Seifer answered simply. But he's not making a motion to take off his pants to get clean. That will wait for one of the small bedrooms.
The confirmation that there's more is like a gut punch. It hits harder than Seifer dismissing him as an enemy. As if Squall hadn't tried talking Seifer down at every possible avenue because the threat of having to kill him instead was a last resort he never get to.
"Because didn't deserve it." Any of it. To have been cast aside by Garden, to have been manipulated into being a knight, to have been butchered like cattle. Then again, nothing about their lives has been about merit. Squall feels sick from all the unknown horrors Seifer might have suffered because of the path he set them on.
He's vibrating with the urge to shake Seifer of his insouciance. As if anything about them was ever so neatly cut and dry. Rivals and enemies, like they had never occupied the spaces in between. Maybe they hadn't. Maybe it was all in Squall's head.
He turns it away from Seifer and gives him his space, reluctantly withdrawing to the table where he sets his cap down and pushes fingers through his hair. "Is there anyone left alive that was responsible?" It's not just the undercurrent of vengeance that has him asking. He wants to know so he can have them flagged if they ever try to access Esthar. If Seifer comes with him, he's never letting any of them in the same city as him.
"No clue," Seifer admits as he gathers the other clothes and heads toward a bedroom. "I haven't really peeked in at the Galbadian army. Seemed foolish."
Because, contrary to his easy surrender when he hadn't known who was there, he still wanted to live. Why else would he be hiding.
Once he's in the room he closes the door most of the way to give him a chance to change in peace. There was clearly damage he was not willing to show off. Takes a few minutes, but soon he's back out in the main room in clean pants and socks. From there he heads back to the bag to investigate the food Squall brought.
"You here to be incredulous, or was there a purpose to invading my space?"
He'd known there was a chance Seifer might hate him after the war and maybe he could have stomached that on its own, but to see what all of his victories amounted to burned into Seifer's flesh is a price he hadn't been expecting to witness. So he lets Seifer have his peace and tries to commit the cabin to memory instead, just to have something to do. He won't rifle through the provisions to start boiling water for coffee or prep any meals. Those are rations that belong purely to Seifer and if they go their separate ways after this, he wants him to be well stocked.
He's crouched in front of the fire when Seifer returns, but rises in reply, burying all of his own personal desires and questions so they can talk business instead. "I want to bring you to Esthar. They're prepared to offer you amnesty and political asylum."
Why would Seifer hate Squall for any of it? Hadn't he made it clear all that time ago in the theater? Seifer was the villain of the piece. He wasn't allowed to be surprised when he lived up to that role, or Squall lived up to his as the hero. It had been their fate all their lives. Two pieces moved an a chess board beyond their understanding. Though Squall had always been the Queen in play, while Seifer had only ever been a Knight.
The news that Squall presents as Seifer rifles through the supplies (and cringes at the ration packs, because how else was someone going to bring out any real quantity of food in only a backpack), earns a full on scoff. Amnesty in Esthar. No one is going to believe that lie. Especially not him.
"Let's count the reasons that's not true, shall we? Esthar hates Sorceresses, that much is clear even in my foggy memories of everything. That's number one. Number two is the destruction I did there that didn't include the Lunar Cry. Number three is the damage and no doubt long term results of the Lunar Cry. Four would be the waking Adel up. No way in hell they're offering anything like that unless you're blackmailing someone, and that isn't in your wheelhouse."
At least Seifer doesn't think it is. He selects some instant coffee and a ration pack that claims it will taste like beef stew and heads to the kitchen. He gathers two pots which he fills with water, then two cups, before heading over toward the fire. Fuck the stove. He's fine here.
He sets the pots by the fire to start heating and gives Squall a sidelong look.
"Who did you threaten to kill to get that sort of deal and why did you do it? Did the Princess beg you? Wouldn't think she had a soft spot for me after everything, but maybe that short period of time with Ultimecia in her head made her softer. Or maybe harder. Maybe the idea is to get me in the borders so they can punish me for marring their pretty city."
Seifer can paint their story however he likes. Squall has spent enough time in Time Compression to know there are no heroes in their story. He wasn't equipped to argue with him before but he is now and likely would if ever prompted. The chessboard of their circumstances might be one he has the most mobility on, but that freedom doesn't make him any more morale or good than the pieces with limited range.
At least the dubious reception is expected. Squall leans with a hand on the mantle as Seifer readies his meal at the fireplace. There's a lingering exhaustion in Squall that's ever present but he feels it deeply now after all of the travel. Nida was right, a nap probably would have been wise, but sleeping isn't something that comes easy when he doesn't know if it'll mean waking up in someone else's body. He's sure Ellone never meant to scar him, but the lingering effects of having his consciousness transferred and held hostage to witness the events of Laguna's history hasn't exactly been easy to move on from.
As much as he wants to be exasperated, Seifer is right to be suspicious. He does give Squall some insight however, intended or not, and he clings to the fact that the war is a patchwork of foggy memories. Whether it's entirely trauma at play or Ultimecia keeping him subdued with magic, Squall can only guess at. He suspects it's the latter and that, when paired with the sight of those scars, unsettles him. Seifer, who had always charged headlong towards his own disastrous destiny, having his autonomy stripped away and turned into a puppet is a horrifying violation Squall can't even begin to contemplate.
"Your concerns are noted," he acknowledges when Seifer finishes airing out his skepticism. His fingers push back through his hair again, bracing himself for the rebuttal that he can't be sure will be enough. Squall sucks in a bracing breath to try, sighing out his exhaustion. "To your points: Esthar does hate Sorceresses. They're also the nation most equipped to testify on behalf of those who have been under their possession." Maybe it's leading the witness, but Squall continues. "The Lunar Cry has done significant damage to the ecological balance of the surrounding area, but again, if under the possession of a sorceress, cannot be put squarely on your shoulders, the same can be said of Adel. Coming in of your own volition will help, but so will any offer to assist in monster clean-up."
The next bit is one Squall hasn't talked about. To anyone. He knows it's not fair to Rinoa either, but the fact is: he knows some of the allure, some of the draw and the inherent need to protect her, started after she came into possession of her sorceress powers. "I don't doubt that President Loire will do everything in his power to see you pardoned, but if the public isn't swayed, I'm prepared to testify that, for good or for ill, a sorceress knight isn't always in control of his actions."
Saying it feels dirty. Shameful. Like he's betraying some part of Rinoa that's been entrusted to him because he is her knight, but so much of their relationship is one he can't quite pinpoint outside of the magnetism of her power. There's a loneliness in each of them that they're both trying to fill, but he can feel her grasp like a weight that pins him in place and while he doesn't think she's doing it intentionally, the shackles are there all the same regardless of whether Squall wears them willingly.
"You'll have the option after to stay in Esthar, but I'm prepared to offer asylum at Garden as well. If you want it."
It's his way of trying to protect Seifer, even if he knows he'll clash with the other Gardens for it. Even if there's a real possibility Seifer doesn't want his protection or feels offended by the offer...Squall can't leave this place until it's known that he wants to try.
There's a lot being laid out there, and Seifer... wasn't really prepared for how thoughtful it was. In his mind Squall should be one of those who hated him the most, so this preparation for him just doesn't make sense. Doesn't fit the narrative arc of the story of their lives.
Squall should be getting his happily ever after with Rinoa, and Seifer should be being fitfully 'punished' for his actions. None of this makes sense.
It leaves him glaring down into the heating pots of water.
"Garden won't want me there. No amount of love for you will make me more acceptable at any of them. Galbadia for what they will claim I led the military to do. Trabia for the destruction wrought there. And Balamb..."
Seifer shakes his head even harder. He knows what he did there. People he'd grown up with, maybe not respected but had definitely known, were dead because of him. There would be faces missing because of him. And they would know it was his fault and blame him for it.
Going back was never going to be an option.
"Why are you doing this, Leonhart? It doesn't make sense."
The decision to pardon Edea but leave Seifer in the hot seat has never stopped leaving a bitter taste in Squall's mouth. Neither of them should have been held accountable for Ultimecia's hostilities but to pin it entirely on one person? It was unconscionable. Seifer wasn't the one who directly interfered with the past. Seifer also wasn't the one responsible for the inception of a military program that would take in children and turn them into killers for hire. This sick circle they're trapped in is entirely Squall's fault and that means so are the casualties. If he can't turn back the clock and save those who have fallen on both sides, then he can keep Seifer from being added to the pile.
It's the very least he can do. But it isn't why he's doing this. It isn't what's sometimes kept him up at night during the war and most nights after it.
"You came to help," he says quietly, his gaze fixed on the deteriorating wall above the mantle before lowering to Seifer. "With the Deling assassination." The aftermath of the attempt had been Squall's first experience with loss. He'd known the feeling of it in the abstract, a hole left behind from Ellone even if he couldn't remember her face or name at the time, but getting the news that Seifer had been executed...Squall still remembers the way his stomach dropped. How the whole world became white noise. Of course they were going to die one day, their training had prepared them for that much, but to hear that it wasn't some glorious battle and instead the hangman's noose that had probably ended Seifer? Unthinkable. And to not even be mourned but to have had his actions talked about in the past tense? To be the past tense?
Squall hated hearing it then and he refuses to live through it a second time. It takes working his jaw a moment, as if he has to physically loosen it, before can push out the flood of thoughts that have been plaguing him.
"You had to have known you weren't coming back from that but you came anyway. And she was able to take you because of that. She took the best parts of you and twisted them, twisted you...She hurt you," Squall's voice strains with the knowledge and the vivid recollection of those scars, those awful fucking scars, that make his eyes burn with a fury that could rival Ifrit's, "and then put you on the world's stage to commit atrocities in her name, and there was nothing anyone could do to help."
Before Seifer flippantly tries to move past his remarks, Squall crouches beside him, feeling the heat of the fire as much as he does the proximity of their bodies. They haven't been this close without weapons between them since...Hyne, his dorm. Squall sees flashes of their old life behind his eyes as he takes a moment to unlatch the emotion he's getting better at sharing. He sees Seifer sweeping his gunblade down across his face, Seifer leaning in close while they stake out the communication tower, Seifer applauding the graduates after finding out he's failed, Seifer with a black hole where his face should be––
Squall sucks in a breath, stares Seifer right in the eye, and adds, "I don't care what punishment the world thinks you deserve. I'm here to make sure they don't get their way." Because. Because. He tries to urge himself to say more, to fill in the great unknown that's existed between them for as long as he can remember. The void that only Seifer has ever been able to fill. He opens his mouth, but it closes into a tight, thin line, his brows furrowing with a frustration that comes from being too scared to name this ineffable but wholly tangible thing inside of him. Even now with Seifer finally in front of him. Perhaps because Seifer is finally in front of him and Hyne, he would suffer Time Compression all over again, but he doesn't want to suffer losing Seifer.
"I expected Cid would either blow Rinoa off, or assign a SeeD team with experience," Seifer snapped. Sending in recent SeeDs who didn't even know the area had seemed stupid at worst. In fact, he's even more offended now because of the ones that were sent. "At least he could have sent Nomura, given he's from the area. But no, he sent you, Chickenwuss, and a chick that neither of you really knew. What Hyne, guy seemed off his rocker."
And if he was about to lose his home, at least he could help people that needed it, right? But of course it had bitten him in the ass.
"I wasn't coming back either way. So it doesn't matter," he says at last, looking away from Squall's intent gaze. "And for all you know she took the true parts of me. How can you be sure?"
Seifer feels like he's a horrible person, after everything. Maybe he always had been.
The mention of Nida compounds the ache of wanting to say something with the knowledge that he shouldn't. The desire gets tamped down, buried under all the other unspoken things.
"Well it mattered to me," he replies quietly, averting his gaze and settling it on the fire. Neither of them seeming to find what they need when looking at the other. Somehow that hurts worse than Seifer's familiarity with another cadet.
He settles the squirming in his gut and breathes out slow. His objective is to get Seifer safely to Esthar, everything else can wait...Or stay buried.
"Fujin and Raijin aren't with you," he points out while maintaining his focus on the flickering flames. "A lesser person would have strung them along. I'm guessing you cut them free."
The pot has begun to boil and so Squall offers a hand to help with the coffee. So much of this is familiar after traveling so extensively during the war. They hadn't always had the comforts of Garden. "You haven't accepted the offer for amnesty," Squall continues. "Someone more advantageous would have leapt at that. But instead you're asking me if I'm sure."
Squall lifts his gaze and for a moment, he feels broken apart by sincerity. "Seifer, that you even feel like you have to ask tells me you're still in there."
Of course they aren't with him. Their lives would be at serious levels of risk. They had plenty of things they wanted to have with their futures. Before he'd left them he'd heard that Raijin had gotten into a cooking school in Dollet, where he was setting up with Fujin. So he did the right thing.
He left for their safety. And asked them not to follow this time.
"I'm not asking you if you're sure. I'm wondering if you're fucking sane," Seifer grumbles, but he doesn't protest hands helping with the coffee.
It's a lot better than trying to answer what Squall's asking. It's just... Hyne, he doesn't get it, does he? Or maybe neither of them do.
"Give me a good reason to accept this deal of yours."
It's obvious to Squall why Fujin and Raijin are nowhere to be seen, but it surprises him that Seifer refuses to acknowledge why that makes him a decent person. As if decency is just a foregone conclusion for everyone else but for him it's not enough. Squall hates that: all of the mile-long "not enough"s that Seifer has had to measure himself against.
The question earns a huff of laughter from. Not the scoff of suppressed delight, the moments of which are rare, but an actual breath of laughter as Squall shakes his head. "After everything we've seen?" It's hard to witness a cosmic horror like Ultimecia and not be a little unhinged.
His amusement dies quickly however, sobered by the more serious question. The coffee is run through a paper filter into one of the mugs and once it's full, he hands it to Seifer, eyes on the black void swimming in the cup. "I'm not ready for your story to be over."
He's quiet for another moment, then looking away, off to the side with a twist of his mouth down into a frown. Annoyed that he's made this about himself when the whole reason Seifer's had limited options his whole life is because of him. "Nida's also in Esthar," he adds to divert from his own flash of vulnerability. "For whatever that's worth."
Not ready for his story to be over? Really? It's so... weird to hear that. It drives a laugh out of him, low and more for his own sake as he takes the cup.
"Pretty sure that's the way stories are written. The villain's story ends, and the Prince and Princess go off and have a vaguely defined 'happily ever after'. Stop ruining your story for mine. After all, I'm supposed to be the self destructive one."
But there are other things that have to be said. Like 'what the fuck does Nida have to do with anything'? Other than Seifer's bad luck to end up in the guy's house. He sips his coffee, not minding that it burns his tongue a little. For a moment he misses the heat tolerance that Ifrit once gave him. And the oblivion from memories as well.
Instead he sips and looks up at Squall, considering.
"So that's why you're going here after this? Stepping out on the princess?"
It annoys him to no end that Seifer has continued to try and write himself off as the bad guy. Even before Ultimecia had come along. Squall's expression sours, pushing him to rise back up to his feet.
"Don't do that," he scowls with his arms folding over himself. Falling back into old patterns. "I'm here for you. Not as a convenient way to step out or to ruin my story but to make sure it continues in a way that's meaningful. To me. And it starts by pushing you to take the fucking pardon so I can push you to keep striving for more."
His arm finally sweeps out to gesture at their surroundings. "You're not meant for this. Hiding from the world because they're too cowardly to own up to their own part in all of this. You constantly try to paint yourself as the villain because everyone stood in your way of being a hero. They were wrong. You could have been the best of them but Garden decided profit was more important than promise. And they were wrong."
At some point, Squall had begun to shake, vibrating with all of the pent up fury he's been harboring since the result of the SeeD exam. He can't take these words back. This isn't Time Compression. He won't get to say these words over and over and tailor them for efficiency. He barges on anyway.
"I don't care that you don't want to make a big deal out of coming to our aid. It was. And it wasn't out of some cocky need to prove you could, it was because some part of you cared whether we got hurt. Whether we failed. You could have left me bleeding out in the Training Center before the exam. You could have Cured yourself before the scar set. You could have left me alone to figure out how to survive in Garden or use a gunblade. You have been there for me, pushing me, growing me, helping me and I don't care what you want to call it: rivalry, competition, boredom, whatever, but it meant something to me which made the thought of you being executed the first time around worse than however many lifetimes I spent in Time Compression. I won't let you put yourself in that position again and if I have to drag your ass across Horizon Bridge to protect you, then I will."
The declaration doesn't come with Squall's eyes on the wall or the ground, they are fixed on Seifer, daring him to try and throw his life away again so Squall can pick it up and put it somewhere safe just to prove it belongs there.
Edited (oop wanted to update his rant a bit) 2024-11-15 06:55 (UTC)
Seifer would credit his actions over the years to something very different from any of what Squall was suggesting. And, of course, he also would have risen up to argue back. To push back.
He's too tired. He's too broken.
"So you're here because I didn't learn how not to harass you?" Seifer asked. Because he has to twist this in some way to get the guy to just let it go. So that Seifer won't taint his life further just by being present.
Seifer had asked if he was crazy and for the first time Squall feels like he might be. The dismissal of literal years of emotions is like being alone again in a sea of nothingness and Squall stands there numb for a long moment before swallowing the lump in his throat. There's no comfort to rubbing at his scar but he does it out of habit, catches himself, and then shoves his hands into the pockets of the jacket he's wearing.
He's not here to convince Seifer of his feelings. He's here to make sure the man's neck doesn't wind up meeting the executioner's axe. Squall straightens, jaw working around words that won't have and have never held any weight, once they're pushed down, he says instead, "It's not an easy trek across the bridge and through the Great Salt Lake. You should eat, pack whatever you want to bring, and then we'll head out."
He gives a stiff nod before bending to collect the pot of coffee and his mug, taking it to the table so he can prepare it away from Seifer to better hide the tremor in his hands.
And there it is. The moment that Squall walks away. But it's strange. It's different. It's not just frustration that drives him away this time. How is it, that while Seifer was away, Squall learned to be the one to deliver declarations and Seifer feels like he's the one that is supposed to jump for a change?
Must be the title treating Squall well or something. Some sort of experience in expecting to be obeyed. Thing was, Seifer had always been bad at orders.
He takes the foiled package of chili rations and puts it into the pot of boiling water in front of him to let it start heating. Then he pushes to his feet, crosses to Squall, and does the only thing he knows how to do in these situations.
Seifer strides purposefully right up to Squall, grabs him by the shoulder, and tries to twist him around so they are facing each other again.
"What if I don't want saved, Squall? What if I'm not waiting for some knight in shining armor to save me? What if I'm the monster you're supposed to vanquish?"
Grand declarations, speeches, giving orders with the expectation of follow through, this has been his life since the war. Shoving down his own needs, pushing past trauma or triggers, these are small sacrifices in the grand scheme of the way he's impacted their reality.
He doesn't even flinch when he's grabbed and Hyne what does that say about their experiences that he feels the most at home in the world when they're like this. When they fall into old patterns.
His hand twitches into a fist, but it stays at his side despite wanting to hit Seifer just to rattle him of the notion that Squall is any kind of knight. He's clearly failed as Rinoa's. "This isn't a bed time story," he retorts with a roll of his shoulder to try and dislodge the hand on it. "If you wannna pretend to be a monster, then run me through and prove it." The phantom ache of ice in his shoulder only makes the tremble in his unclenched fist worsen so he balls that up too and straightens against Seifer's stare.
What an infuriating thing for Squall to say. Because he doesn't get it. Has
never gotten it. Save for one accident and the things he had done under
Ultimecia's will, he had never once caused Squall lasting harm. And he had
never set out with the intent to do so either.
Of course he can't do that now.
"Given I don't have more than a blunt boot knife, I don't think I could,"
he says instead of pressing the matter. And he backs away. Space. There
should be space between them. Space and time. An uncrossable gulf of it.
"Drink your coffee. I'm going to eat. I'm not rushing off anywhere though.
Like I said, I don't buy that going to Esthar is anything but a death
sentence. And if I'm going to be put to the headsman's blade it's going to
be yours on behalf of Balamb and Trabia if I can help it. I don't think
even the 'Lion of Balamb' could manage to somehow talk a major world
government washing all this blood off my hands."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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But the dismissal is a dismissal and he sighs before grabbing the bag.
"There's a well out back. Good fresh water. Haul some out. There's a big basin for cleaning in the kitchen. If I'm getting changed I'm getting a bit cleaned up too," Seifer insists.
He gestures toward a back corner with a stone oven and a big metal basin set into some more stonework. Seems like they had some things functional here.
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Can he do this?
No, that doesn't matter. He owes it to Seifer to try and he wants...he needs the closure of everything they never got to talk about. All those days leading up to the SeeD exam have burned through him, making an indelible mark on his soul. And then the morning of...Hyne, he has so many questions and he would give anything to put the gleam back in Seifer's eyes because it wasn't some ineffable force that drove it out, it was him.
Having something to do that isn't getting lost in his own thoughts is a gift he's not sure Seifer knows he's offering, but Squall nods, happy to take orders after shouldering the weight of command for so long. The fire is something he starts by hand, taking the logs stacked by the hearth and lighting with practiced ease. The stove earns the same treatment before he goes to lift the bucket dolly but he finally idles at the door. "Don't run." It doesn't sound like an order when he says it, but Squall doesn't linger in the weariness of his own words and instead puts himself to the task of hauling fresh water from the well to the cabin so Seifer can have hot water to wash up with.
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When the water is brought in and poured into the stoppered basin, Seifer hauls his shirt off without hesitation. Maybe he should hesitate. No way to know how Squall will handle it.
The it in this case specifically being the heavy scarring on his back. Scars that definitely hadn't been there before the SeeD exam. Burns and cuts mar what was once flawless skin, and Seifer doesn't seem to be all that bothered by them, or all that hindered by their presence. His focus instead is on wetting a cloth in the water and wiping his skin off with it.
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There is a hot, primal rage that roars silently through him and he knows it comes from Ifrit as much as it does himself. Like he'd smash through a city to protect you.
"Seifer."
His own dealings with the sorceress have left a mark carved into him, showing where he's been speared through with ice, but that had been achieved through the heat of battle. What he's looking at now as he sets the buckets down and approaches is abhorrent in its methodical nature. These are marks meant to hurt for the sake of hurting.
He can't touch. That's too intimate. It's too...familiar. But his hand outstretches for just a moment with the impulse. "Her work or someone else's?" He needs to know who to direct his fury and the way he almost visibly shakes with it. Maybe it's a symptom of their fucked up training, but he'd always been offended by Seifer's means of interrogation. They'd been so impersonal, like Squall hadn't been worth the effort. Garden had taught them more effective ways of extracting information than electrocution. He'd thought it was a symptom of Seifer being under the sorceress' influence but maybe he'd just been sparing him the worst of what she was capable of.
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He had been even stronger then, flooded with his mistress's power. And still he failed. Time after time. Punishment had been expected.
"Fujin and Raijin helped me recover, after. Every time, after, she'd toss me at them. They'd have orders to have me patched up and ready. I'd send them away when I could."
To protect them from Ultimecia's wrath. And now he's clearly sent them away again. Likely for their own safety.
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He hopes Nida will do what he couldn't. Maybe that's why Seifer's here, in his cabin. A safe space built upon whatever it was they might have had during their years as cadets. Squall sucks in a breath and is only too sorry to be what Seifer has instead.
"I didn't know."
There's a lot Squall doesn't know about Seifer anymore, what happened to him during the war and why he made the choices he did. He's come to find out just as much as he's come to offer a way out.
He can't take his eyes off of the gruesome work. If there's anyone left alive that's responsible, he doesn't think he has it in him to be as objective as he has been with Seifer. He used to pity Ultimecia for the cycle they've found themselves in. A story that will always end at the beginning. But now he wishes he'd derived more satisfaction from ending her. Could he be that kind of man?
"Is this all of it?"
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"No," Seifer answered simply. But he's not making a motion to take off his pants to get clean. That will wait for one of the small bedrooms.
"Can't imagine why you'd care."
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"Because didn't deserve it." Any of it. To have been cast aside by Garden, to have been manipulated into being a knight, to have been butchered like cattle. Then again, nothing about their lives has been about merit. Squall feels sick from all the unknown horrors Seifer might have suffered because of the path he set them on.
He's vibrating with the urge to shake Seifer of his insouciance. As if anything about them was ever so neatly cut and dry. Rivals and enemies, like they had never occupied the spaces in between. Maybe they hadn't. Maybe it was all in Squall's head.
He turns it away from Seifer and gives him his space, reluctantly withdrawing to the table where he sets his cap down and pushes fingers through his hair. "Is there anyone left alive that was responsible?" It's not just the undercurrent of vengeance that has him asking. He wants to know so he can have them flagged if they ever try to access Esthar. If Seifer comes with him, he's never letting any of them in the same city as him.
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Because, contrary to his easy surrender when he hadn't known who was there, he still wanted to live. Why else would he be hiding.
Once he's in the room he closes the door most of the way to give him a chance to change in peace. There was clearly damage he was not willing to show off. Takes a few minutes, but soon he's back out in the main room in clean pants and socks. From there he heads back to the bag to investigate the food Squall brought.
"You here to be incredulous, or was there a purpose to invading my space?"
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He's crouched in front of the fire when Seifer returns, but rises in reply, burying all of his own personal desires and questions so they can talk business instead. "I want to bring you to Esthar. They're prepared to offer you amnesty and political asylum."
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The news that Squall presents as Seifer rifles through the supplies (and cringes at the ration packs, because how else was someone going to bring out any real quantity of food in only a backpack), earns a full on scoff. Amnesty in Esthar. No one is going to believe that lie. Especially not him.
"Let's count the reasons that's not true, shall we? Esthar hates Sorceresses, that much is clear even in my foggy memories of everything. That's number one. Number two is the destruction I did there that didn't include the Lunar Cry. Number three is the damage and no doubt long term results of the Lunar Cry. Four would be the waking Adel up. No way in hell they're offering anything like that unless you're blackmailing someone, and that isn't in your wheelhouse."
At least Seifer doesn't think it is. He selects some instant coffee and a ration pack that claims it will taste like beef stew and heads to the kitchen. He gathers two pots which he fills with water, then two cups, before heading over toward the fire. Fuck the stove. He's fine here.
He sets the pots by the fire to start heating and gives Squall a sidelong look.
"Who did you threaten to kill to get that sort of deal and why did you do it? Did the Princess beg you? Wouldn't think she had a soft spot for me after everything, but maybe that short period of time with Ultimecia in her head made her softer. Or maybe harder. Maybe the idea is to get me in the borders so they can punish me for marring their pretty city."
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At least the dubious reception is expected. Squall leans with a hand on the mantle as Seifer readies his meal at the fireplace. There's a lingering exhaustion in Squall that's ever present but he feels it deeply now after all of the travel. Nida was right, a nap probably would have been wise, but sleeping isn't something that comes easy when he doesn't know if it'll mean waking up in someone else's body. He's sure Ellone never meant to scar him, but the lingering effects of having his consciousness transferred and held hostage to witness the events of Laguna's history hasn't exactly been easy to move on from.
As much as he wants to be exasperated, Seifer is right to be suspicious. He does give Squall some insight however, intended or not, and he clings to the fact that the war is a patchwork of foggy memories. Whether it's entirely trauma at play or Ultimecia keeping him subdued with magic, Squall can only guess at. He suspects it's the latter and that, when paired with the sight of those scars, unsettles him. Seifer, who had always charged headlong towards his own disastrous destiny, having his autonomy stripped away and turned into a puppet is a horrifying violation Squall can't even begin to contemplate.
"Your concerns are noted," he acknowledges when Seifer finishes airing out his skepticism. His fingers push back through his hair again, bracing himself for the rebuttal that he can't be sure will be enough. Squall sucks in a bracing breath to try, sighing out his exhaustion. "To your points: Esthar does hate Sorceresses. They're also the nation most equipped to testify on behalf of those who have been under their possession." Maybe it's leading the witness, but Squall continues. "The Lunar Cry has done significant damage to the ecological balance of the surrounding area, but again, if under the possession of a sorceress, cannot be put squarely on your shoulders, the same can be said of Adel. Coming in of your own volition will help, but so will any offer to assist in monster clean-up."
The next bit is one Squall hasn't talked about. To anyone. He knows it's not fair to Rinoa either, but the fact is: he knows some of the allure, some of the draw and the inherent need to protect her, started after she came into possession of her sorceress powers. "I don't doubt that President Loire will do everything in his power to see you pardoned, but if the public isn't swayed, I'm prepared to testify that, for good or for ill, a sorceress knight isn't always in control of his actions."
Saying it feels dirty. Shameful. Like he's betraying some part of Rinoa that's been entrusted to him because he is her knight, but so much of their relationship is one he can't quite pinpoint outside of the magnetism of her power. There's a loneliness in each of them that they're both trying to fill, but he can feel her grasp like a weight that pins him in place and while he doesn't think she's doing it intentionally, the shackles are there all the same regardless of whether Squall wears them willingly.
"You'll have the option after to stay in Esthar, but I'm prepared to offer asylum at Garden as well. If you want it."
It's his way of trying to protect Seifer, even if he knows he'll clash with the other Gardens for it. Even if there's a real possibility Seifer doesn't want his protection or feels offended by the offer...Squall can't leave this place until it's known that he wants to try.
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Squall should be getting his happily ever after with Rinoa, and Seifer should be being fitfully 'punished' for his actions. None of this makes sense.
It leaves him glaring down into the heating pots of water.
"Garden won't want me there. No amount of love for you will make me more acceptable at any of them. Galbadia for what they will claim I led the military to do. Trabia for the destruction wrought there. And Balamb..."
Seifer shakes his head even harder. He knows what he did there. People he'd grown up with, maybe not respected but had definitely known, were dead because of him. There would be faces missing because of him. And they would know it was his fault and blame him for it.
Going back was never going to be an option.
"Why are you doing this, Leonhart? It doesn't make sense."
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It's the very least he can do. But it isn't why he's doing this. It isn't what's sometimes kept him up at night during the war and most nights after it.
"You came to help," he says quietly, his gaze fixed on the deteriorating wall above the mantle before lowering to Seifer. "With the Deling assassination." The aftermath of the attempt had been Squall's first experience with loss. He'd known the feeling of it in the abstract, a hole left behind from Ellone even if he couldn't remember her face or name at the time, but getting the news that Seifer had been executed...Squall still remembers the way his stomach dropped. How the whole world became white noise. Of course they were going to die one day, their training had prepared them for that much, but to hear that it wasn't some glorious battle and instead the hangman's noose that had probably ended Seifer? Unthinkable. And to not even be mourned but to have had his actions talked about in the past tense? To be the past tense?
Squall hated hearing it then and he refuses to live through it a second time. It takes working his jaw a moment, as if he has to physically loosen it, before can push out the flood of thoughts that have been plaguing him.
"You had to have known you weren't coming back from that but you came anyway. And she was able to take you because of that. She took the best parts of you and twisted them, twisted you...She hurt you," Squall's voice strains with the knowledge and the vivid recollection of those scars, those awful fucking scars, that make his eyes burn with a fury that could rival Ifrit's, "and then put you on the world's stage to commit atrocities in her name, and there was nothing anyone could do to help."
Before Seifer flippantly tries to move past his remarks, Squall crouches beside him, feeling the heat of the fire as much as he does the proximity of their bodies. They haven't been this close without weapons between them since...Hyne, his dorm. Squall sees flashes of their old life behind his eyes as he takes a moment to unlatch the emotion he's getting better at sharing. He sees Seifer sweeping his gunblade down across his face, Seifer leaning in close while they stake out the communication tower, Seifer applauding the graduates after finding out he's failed, Seifer with a black hole where his face should be––
Squall sucks in a breath, stares Seifer right in the eye, and adds, "I don't care what punishment the world thinks you deserve. I'm here to make sure they don't get their way." Because. Because. He tries to urge himself to say more, to fill in the great unknown that's existed between them for as long as he can remember. The void that only Seifer has ever been able to fill. He opens his mouth, but it closes into a tight, thin line, his brows furrowing with a frustration that comes from being too scared to name this ineffable but wholly tangible thing inside of him. Even now with Seifer finally in front of him. Perhaps because Seifer is finally in front of him and Hyne, he would suffer Time Compression all over again, but he doesn't want to suffer losing Seifer.
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And if he was about to lose his home, at least he could help people that needed it, right? But of course it had bitten him in the ass.
"I wasn't coming back either way. So it doesn't matter," he says at last, looking away from Squall's intent gaze. "And for all you know she took the true parts of me. How can you be sure?"
Seifer feels like he's a horrible person, after everything. Maybe he always had been.
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"Well it mattered to me," he replies quietly, averting his gaze and settling it on the fire. Neither of them seeming to find what they need when looking at the other. Somehow that hurts worse than Seifer's familiarity with another cadet.
He settles the squirming in his gut and breathes out slow. His objective is to get Seifer safely to Esthar, everything else can wait...Or stay buried.
"Fujin and Raijin aren't with you," he points out while maintaining his focus on the flickering flames. "A lesser person would have strung them along. I'm guessing you cut them free."
The pot has begun to boil and so Squall offers a hand to help with the coffee. So much of this is familiar after traveling so extensively during the war. They hadn't always had the comforts of Garden. "You haven't accepted the offer for amnesty," Squall continues. "Someone more advantageous would have leapt at that. But instead you're asking me if I'm sure."
Squall lifts his gaze and for a moment, he feels broken apart by sincerity. "Seifer, that you even feel like you have to ask tells me you're still in there."
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He left for their safety. And asked them not to follow this time.
"I'm not asking you if you're sure. I'm wondering if you're fucking sane," Seifer grumbles, but he doesn't protest hands helping with the coffee.
It's a lot better than trying to answer what Squall's asking. It's just... Hyne, he doesn't get it, does he? Or maybe neither of them do.
"Give me a good reason to accept this deal of yours."
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The question earns a huff of laughter from. Not the scoff of suppressed delight, the moments of which are rare, but an actual breath of laughter as Squall shakes his head. "After everything we've seen?" It's hard to witness a cosmic horror like Ultimecia and not be a little unhinged.
His amusement dies quickly however, sobered by the more serious question. The coffee is run through a paper filter into one of the mugs and once it's full, he hands it to Seifer, eyes on the black void swimming in the cup. "I'm not ready for your story to be over."
He's quiet for another moment, then looking away, off to the side with a twist of his mouth down into a frown. Annoyed that he's made this about himself when the whole reason Seifer's had limited options his whole life is because of him. "Nida's also in Esthar," he adds to divert from his own flash of vulnerability. "For whatever that's worth."
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"Pretty sure that's the way stories are written. The villain's story ends, and the Prince and Princess go off and have a vaguely defined 'happily ever after'. Stop ruining your story for mine. After all, I'm supposed to be the self destructive one."
But there are other things that have to be said. Like 'what the fuck does Nida have to do with anything'? Other than Seifer's bad luck to end up in the guy's house. He sips his coffee, not minding that it burns his tongue a little. For a moment he misses the heat tolerance that Ifrit once gave him. And the oblivion from memories as well.
Instead he sips and looks up at Squall, considering.
"So that's why you're going here after this? Stepping out on the princess?"
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"Don't do that," he scowls with his arms folding over himself. Falling back into old patterns. "I'm here for you. Not as a convenient way to step out or to ruin my story but to make sure it continues in a way that's meaningful. To me. And it starts by pushing you to take the fucking pardon so I can push you to keep striving for more."
His arm finally sweeps out to gesture at their surroundings. "You're not meant for this. Hiding from the world because they're too cowardly to own up to their own part in all of this. You constantly try to paint yourself as the villain because everyone stood in your way of being a hero. They were wrong. You could have been the best of them but Garden decided profit was more important than promise. And they were wrong."
At some point, Squall had begun to shake, vibrating with all of the pent up fury he's been harboring since the result of the SeeD exam. He can't take these words back. This isn't Time Compression. He won't get to say these words over and over and tailor them for efficiency. He barges on anyway.
"I don't care that you don't want to make a big deal out of coming to our aid. It was. And it wasn't out of some cocky need to prove you could, it was because some part of you cared whether we got hurt. Whether we failed. You could have left me bleeding out in the Training Center before the exam. You could have Cured yourself before the scar set. You could have left me alone to figure out how to survive in Garden or use a gunblade. You have been there for me, pushing me, growing me, helping me and I don't care what you want to call it: rivalry, competition, boredom, whatever, but it meant something to me which made the thought of you being executed the first time around worse than however many lifetimes I spent in Time Compression. I won't let you put yourself in that position again and if I have to drag your ass across Horizon Bridge to protect you, then I will."
The declaration doesn't come with Squall's eyes on the wall or the ground, they are fixed on Seifer, daring him to try and throw his life away again so Squall can pick it up and put it somewhere safe just to prove it belongs there.
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He's too tired. He's too broken.
"So you're here because I didn't learn how not to harass you?" Seifer asked. Because he has to twist this in some way to get the guy to just let it go. So that Seifer won't taint his life further just by being present.
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He's not here to convince Seifer of his feelings. He's here to make sure the man's neck doesn't wind up meeting the executioner's axe. Squall straightens, jaw working around words that won't have and have never held any weight, once they're pushed down, he says instead, "It's not an easy trek across the bridge and through the Great Salt Lake. You should eat, pack whatever you want to bring, and then we'll head out."
He gives a stiff nod before bending to collect the pot of coffee and his mug, taking it to the table so he can prepare it away from Seifer to better hide the tremor in his hands.
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Must be the title treating Squall well or something. Some sort of experience in expecting to be obeyed. Thing was, Seifer had always been bad at orders.
He takes the foiled package of chili rations and puts it into the pot of boiling water in front of him to let it start heating. Then he pushes to his feet, crosses to Squall, and does the only thing he knows how to do in these situations.
Seifer strides purposefully right up to Squall, grabs him by the shoulder, and tries to twist him around so they are facing each other again.
"What if I don't want saved, Squall? What if I'm not waiting for some knight in shining armor to save me? What if I'm the monster you're supposed to vanquish?"
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He doesn't even flinch when he's grabbed and Hyne what does that say about their experiences that he feels the most at home in the world when they're like this. When they fall into old patterns.
His hand twitches into a fist, but it stays at his side despite wanting to hit Seifer just to rattle him of the notion that Squall is any kind of knight. He's clearly
failed as Rinoa's. "This isn't a bed time story," he retorts with a roll of his shoulder to try and dislodge the hand on it. "If you wannna pretend to be a monster, then run me through and prove it." The phantom ache of ice in his shoulder only makes the tremble in his unclenched fist worsen so he balls that up too and straightens against Seifer's stare.
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What an infuriating thing for Squall to say. Because he doesn't get it. Has never gotten it. Save for one accident and the things he had done under Ultimecia's will, he had never once caused Squall lasting harm. And he had never set out with the intent to do so either.
Of course he can't do that now.
"Given I don't have more than a blunt boot knife, I don't think I could," he says instead of pressing the matter. And he backs away. Space. There should be space between them. Space and time. An uncrossable gulf of it.
"Drink your coffee. I'm going to eat. I'm not rushing off anywhere though. Like I said, I don't buy that going to Esthar is anything but a death sentence. And if I'm going to be put to the headsman's blade it's going to be yours on behalf of Balamb and Trabia if I can help it. I don't think even the 'Lion of Balamb' could manage to somehow talk a major world government washing all this blood off my hands."
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