Hilariously, it had never been a cause of claustrophobia for him. Just trains. But he was still willing to stick it out as much as he needed to for his life and his work.
"Glad to help, Commander," Nida agrees with a nod. The salutes already handled he instead stretches his arms while walking to the door. "Good luck with your... Actually, would you like Cactaur? Just in case the luck really would help?"
There's a moment of hesitation as Squall weighs the odds of who is most likely to benefit from a bit of luck, but ultimately he acquiesces with a nod. "He was stubborn on the best of days and I'm guessing he hasn't seen those in awhile...I'll take all the luck I can get."
Seems logical. And honestly, all Nida needs is Siren. He's far too fond of her to want to pair with others at the moment. He reaches out, the briefest of touches against Squall's arm for the anchor of contact that was needed for transfer between two less familiar people. A flash of a moment and the GF was shifted over.
"Take all the luck you can get. I find Aura spells junction well with it. And with that, I'm off to have the longest nap ever because I can't imagine you managed to get your... presidential contact to get here that fast."
Please let them not have. Because he wants to sleep and he's going to do his best to talk the person to let him handle flying whatever it was back.
"I'll do what I can on my side. And if no one hears from you in, like, two weeks I'll tell Xu what you were up to."
He figured that was the best way to give the guy the time he needs without being annoying. Who knows how long it would take to talk Seifer into something.
"Thanks. Get some rest, Nida," he encourages with a nod, ignoring for now the prickle of having something newly junctioned after time apart. Cactaur had always been best paired with other party members with Squall preferring GFs with more aggressive utility. He doesn't complain, however, just rides out the sensation before taking a deep, bracing breath.
The record has long since stopped its playing, in need of being restarted or turned over, so he's not sure how long it takes him to acknowledge the timeline but after a second or two, Squall blinks his way back into the present. "Two weeks. Got it."
He sees Nida to the door because it feels like the right thing to do but also because Squall knows the journey he's about to embark on will be a lonely one until he's face to face with Seifer. All of his former desires for solitude went out the window with Time Compression. Now he feels the ache of isolation beginning to creep in as he says his farewells. "An Esthar ship will arrive tomorrow afternoon for you. Good luck."
If there was one thing to be said for the briefing packet that Nida put together for Squall, it was really on thorough. Right down to the description of the path that would lead Squall out of Timber, toward a nearby forest, and through it to the isolated location of a cabin. The forest is thick, the sort of messy and overgrown place that says humans haven't been around in very long, and yet there are still some game trails through it to make the path easier.
There is also, it turned out, some things Nida didn't remember. Or perhaps didn't know. Or maybe just came about later from a paranoid mind. Because now there are triplines hidden in the forest floor detritus. Not the sort to catch or to harm, but to warn.
Luck only gets one so far, or perhaps it isn't in play. Maybe it's just that this is the luckiest thing that could happen. But in his advance toward the cabin, just as it's coming into sight, there's a noise. Sticks rattling against each other overhead. As the noise carries and fades the prior quiet sound of chopping fades away in its own right, and with that growing silence comes a heavy thud, perhaps of someone throwing the axe aside.
"Guess I should say something now," a tired voice, Seifer's voice, comes from out of sight. From behind the cabin that has clearly seen better days but is already showing some signs of someone attempting to clean and patch it up. "You give your word that you'll turn me over to Garden, and I promise I'll come peacefully. But any sign the route is leading toward Deling City, and we'll have some problems."
Sometimes Squall wonders if Seifer would take it back, that morning of their SeeD exam when they'd carved into each other's faces. He's always wondered why Seifer kept the mark. Why he hadn't just healed the both of them after Squall had passed out or why he hadn't at least healed himself.
The marks have made them the most recognizable men on the planet. It's why Squall travels with his covered up, borrowing from the espionage lessons he never quite got to put into effect. He uses them now, mostly to move through Timber unbothered, ball cap pulled low over his brows and leathers traded out for the kind of denim local lumber workers were commonly dressed in.
He doesn't look like a SeeD until he's deep in the wilderness, checking for traps and signs of disturbance in the bramble. He can't exactly be sure what kind of reception he'll get from Seifer or if the place might be surrounded by precautions, so Squall takes his time advancing on the cabin, timing movements to the metronome of Seifer's axe splitting wood.
His pack chooses an inopportune moment to snag on a branch, momentarily derailing Squall's progress that when started up again, catches along a trip wire that gives away his approach. Fuck. Silence stretches out for several long moments and his ears strain for any signs of movement. The last thing he needs is to spook Seifer into running. Especially now when he's so close.
The easy surrender isn't something he'd expected however. Or the exhaustion in that voice. Hyne, that's Seifer's voice. Something in Squall wrenches with the sound of it and he feels the agonizing ache of hope for the first time since the war's end.
"Why Garden?" he pitches his voice but knows better than to think he can fool Seifer. They both took the same lessons in subterfuge, after all. He removes his cap, swipes the back of his hand across his forehead, and begins his advance, ready to chase Seifer if he has to but something tells him his rival is tired of running.
Talk about a voice he wasn't expecting. And the only one that happened to be the most likely to actually bring Seifer slowly circling around the old cabin. His eyes meet Squall's and he wilts just a little. Because of course it would be him.
"Because I assume you'd make it quick and clean. Pretty sure the new Galbadian president would do a big, showy public execution and make it hurt. Which is ironic, given they chose to get into everything willingly."
The man looks.. tired. Worn. Weary. His cost is nowhere to be seen, and it makes sense given the fact that he had clearly been working. His arms shine with a faint bit of sweat, probably from chopping wood. His hair is not nearly so neatly arranged as it was always kept before. Instead it hangs shaggy around his face. Nor is it as clean as it might otherwise have been, but who is to say if there was running water out here.
"You'd make sure of it, right? You were always a better man than me, Leonhart. Figured you wouldn't hold enough of a grudge to make it messy. And you must want to do it yourself, given you're here. I'm guessing Nomura told you where to find me?"
Seeing him makes Time slow as Squall is forced to rewrite the image of Seifer in his memory with the man that comes into view. He feels a void trying to hollow out the center of that familiar face, to prevent Squall from absorbing the sight of it, but he blinks away the trauma of Time Compression and sees Seifer as the war has left him. Hyne, he looks so tired.
Squall hates the resolution in Seifer's voice. Of course he's considered how he'd die and would be the one to do it. Every nation is clambering for the opportunity. He wants to be impassive as he listens but ultimately Squall can't help but scoff. He'd never been the better man. He'd just been the one with the most opportunity. And that had never been Seifer's fault. It had been by design. Squall's design, however inadvertent it had been.
His brows pinch even as he straightens against the words. "It is his cabin," Squall points out as confirmation but doesn't elaborate further. "We didn't do much talking." The words taunt him and he smothers it down with a deep breath of crisp air.
"I'm not here to take you back to Garden, Almasy. And killing you would just mean I lugged all these provisions for nothing. So if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not have this conversation out in the open." His pack is shifted on his shoulders for emphasis. Nida's maps and reports had been instrumental in getting him to this point. The supplies Nida ordered however are the real advantage and Squall hopes they're enough to barter some cooperation.
"I know," Seifer acknowledges. "Pretty clear it would be. Tell him he's done a shit job of keeping it in shape."
Still, the news that Squall isn't here has this look of confusion flickering over his face. Like he can't understand it. Which is true, he can't. This wasn't how he imagined all of this going. He had tortured Squall, no two ways about it. He'd tried to kill them multiple times. So why be willing to talk? Why lug provisions in?
It takes a few solid minutes to consider his decision. At last he sighs and circles around the cabin.
"Door's over here. Just don't expect me to start a fire when I don't anticipate we're staying here long."
It takes a concentrated effort not to tell Seifer he can tell Nida himself. He's not here to air out any petty grievances and he certainly doesn't want to wear his jealousy openly. He's robbed them both of any opportunity to make their own destiny and so Squall buries the feelings of frustration while Seifer weighs the possibility of trusting him.
He's relieved to find that he does. At least for the moment. The door is something he makes his way to in slow, cautious steps. It's not that he thinks Seifer will try to spring anything on him but Squall doesn't feel like making any more noise in the wilderness than he has to.
The inside of the cabin is given a cursory glance once he's inside of it. It reminds Squall of the caves animals would retreat into to go die in and the thought adds another knot in his stomach. His pack is dropped beside the hearth of the fire place, left as a peace offering which he backs away from so Seifer can inspect it at his leisure.
There are a few things in addition to Nida's provisions which Squall had packed before leaving Garden. "Food, water...some fresh clothes from your dorm." It had been raided for inspection by the Garden faculty after Seifer went AWOL but Squall had ordered the room be kept vacant after the war. Like a mausoleum to all the things they'd never gotten the chance to do in it. A picture of Seifer, Fujin, and Raijin is tucked into one of the pockets. For all that Squall has planned to bring Seifer to Esthar, he wants him to come willingly, but has prepared for the possibility that this might in fact be where they say goodbye.
He hopes it isn't.
"Get changed. I'll make a fire." Because if Seifer wasn't going to trust that they would be here a moment, Squall would just have to forge that path himself.
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.
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"Glad to help, Commander," Nida agrees with a nod. The salutes already handled he instead stretches his arms while walking to the door. "Good luck with your... Actually, would you like Cactaur? Just in case the luck really would help?"
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"Take all the luck you can get. I find Aura spells junction well with it. And with that, I'm off to have the longest nap ever because I can't imagine you managed to get your... presidential contact to get here that fast."
Please let them not have. Because he wants to sleep and he's going to do his best to talk the person to let him handle flying whatever it was back.
"I'll do what I can on my side. And if no one hears from you in, like, two weeks I'll tell Xu what you were up to."
He figured that was the best way to give the guy the time he needs without being annoying. Who knows how long it would take to talk Seifer into something.
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The record has long since stopped its playing, in need of being restarted or turned over, so he's not sure how long it takes him to acknowledge the timeline but after a second or two, Squall blinks his way back into the present. "Two weeks. Got it."
He sees Nida to the door because it feels like the right thing to do but also because Squall knows the journey he's about to embark on will be a lonely one until he's face to face with Seifer. All of his former desires for solitude went out the window with Time Compression. Now he feels the ache of isolation beginning to creep in as he says his farewells. "An Esthar ship will arrive tomorrow afternoon for you. Good luck."
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There is also, it turned out, some things Nida didn't remember. Or perhaps didn't know. Or maybe just came about later from a paranoid mind. Because now there are triplines hidden in the forest floor detritus. Not the sort to catch or to harm, but to warn.
Luck only gets one so far, or perhaps it isn't in play. Maybe it's just that this is the luckiest thing that could happen. But in his advance toward the cabin, just as it's coming into sight, there's a noise. Sticks rattling against each other overhead. As the noise carries and fades the prior quiet sound of chopping fades away in its own right, and with that growing silence comes a heavy thud, perhaps of someone throwing the axe aside.
"Guess I should say something now," a tired voice, Seifer's voice, comes from out of sight. From behind the cabin that has clearly seen better days but is already showing some signs of someone attempting to clean and patch it up. "You give your word that you'll turn me over to Garden, and I promise I'll come peacefully. But any sign the route is leading toward Deling City, and we'll have some problems."
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The marks have made them the most recognizable men on the planet. It's why Squall travels with his covered up, borrowing from the espionage lessons he never quite got to put into effect. He uses them now, mostly to move through Timber unbothered, ball cap pulled low over his brows and leathers traded out for the kind of denim local lumber workers were commonly dressed in.
He doesn't look like a SeeD until he's deep in the wilderness, checking for traps and signs of disturbance in the bramble. He can't exactly be sure what kind of reception he'll get from Seifer or if the place might be surrounded by precautions, so Squall takes his time advancing on the cabin, timing movements to the metronome of Seifer's axe splitting wood.
His pack chooses an inopportune moment to snag on a branch, momentarily derailing Squall's progress that when started up again, catches along a trip wire that gives away his approach. Fuck. Silence stretches out for several long moments and his ears strain for any signs of movement. The last thing he needs is to spook Seifer into running. Especially now when he's so close.
The easy surrender isn't something he'd expected however. Or the exhaustion in that voice. Hyne, that's Seifer's voice. Something in Squall wrenches with the sound of it and he feels the agonizing ache of hope for the first time since the war's end.
"Why Garden?" he pitches his voice but knows better than to think he can fool Seifer. They both took the same lessons in subterfuge, after all. He removes his cap, swipes the back of his hand across his forehead, and begins his advance, ready to chase Seifer if he has to but something tells him his rival is tired of running.
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"Because I assume you'd make it quick and clean. Pretty sure the new Galbadian president would do a big, showy public execution and make it hurt. Which is ironic, given they chose to get into everything willingly."
The man looks.. tired. Worn. Weary. His cost is nowhere to be seen, and it makes sense given the fact that he had clearly been working. His arms shine with a faint bit of sweat, probably from chopping wood. His hair is not nearly so neatly arranged as it was always kept before. Instead it hangs shaggy around his face. Nor is it as clean as it might otherwise have been, but who is to say if there was running water out here.
"You'd make sure of it, right? You were always a better man than me, Leonhart. Figured you wouldn't hold enough of a grudge to make it messy. And you must want to do it yourself, given you're here. I'm guessing Nomura told you where to find me?"
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Squall hates the resolution in Seifer's voice. Of course he's considered how he'd die and would be the one to do it. Every nation is clambering for the opportunity. He wants to be impassive as he listens but ultimately Squall can't help but scoff. He'd never been the better man. He'd just been the one with the most opportunity. And that had never been Seifer's fault. It had been by design. Squall's design, however inadvertent it had been.
His brows pinch even as he straightens against the words. "It is his cabin," Squall points out as confirmation but doesn't elaborate further. "We didn't do much talking." The words taunt him and he smothers it down with a deep breath of crisp air.
"I'm not here to take you back to Garden, Almasy. And killing you would just mean I lugged all these provisions for nothing. So if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not have this conversation out in the open." His pack is shifted on his shoulders for emphasis. Nida's maps and reports had been instrumental in getting him to this point. The supplies Nida ordered however are the real advantage and Squall hopes they're enough to barter some cooperation.
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Still, the news that Squall isn't here has this look of confusion flickering over his face. Like he can't understand it. Which is true, he can't. This wasn't how he imagined all of this going. He had tortured Squall, no two ways about it. He'd tried to kill them multiple times. So why be willing to talk? Why lug provisions in?
It takes a few solid minutes to consider his decision. At last he sighs and circles around the cabin.
"Door's over here. Just don't expect me to start a fire when I don't anticipate we're staying here long."
Another way of saying 'I don't believe you.'
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He's relieved to find that he does. At least for the moment. The door is something he makes his way to in slow, cautious steps. It's not that he thinks Seifer will try to spring anything on him but Squall doesn't feel like making any more noise in the wilderness than he has to.
The inside of the cabin is given a cursory glance once he's inside of it. It reminds Squall of the caves animals would retreat into to go die in and the thought adds another knot in his stomach. His pack is dropped beside the hearth of the fire place, left as a peace offering which he backs away from so Seifer can inspect it at his leisure.
There are a few things in addition to Nida's provisions which Squall had packed before leaving Garden. "Food, water...some fresh clothes from your dorm." It had been raided for inspection by the Garden faculty after Seifer went AWOL but Squall had ordered the room be kept vacant after the war. Like a mausoleum to all the things they'd never gotten the chance to do in it. A picture of Seifer, Fujin, and Raijin is tucked into one of the pockets. For all that Squall has planned to bring Seifer to Esthar, he wants him to come willingly, but has prepared for the possibility that this might in fact be where they say goodbye.
He hopes it isn't.
"Get changed. I'll make a fire." Because if Seifer wasn't going to trust that they would be here a moment, Squall would just have to forge that path himself.
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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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