Hurt

Disclaimer: the characters and places contained herein do not belong to me and I make no claim or money from this. I can’t even claim responsibility for most of the idea because it came from both Race Ulfson and the song “Hurt” covered by Johnny Cash.

With many thanks to Pixie, Acid Rain and Astraea.

This fanfiction is dedicated in its entirety to Race Ulfson, also known as the beta babe who usually previews all my stuff and tells me where I’ve screwed up.



Hurt.
For Race.



I will let you down
I will make you hurt
Hurt – Johnny Cash


The hours of questioning had dragged on and on, leaving Seifer feeling so exhausted he’d wondered whether the clock was going backwards at times. It had been forty-eight hours since he’d last seen Squall, and he’d barely had any sleep himself once the drugs had worn off. The police refused to tell him where Squall was, or even how Squall was, and he dreaded to think of what condition his lover was in.

His breath caught in his throat when they informed him they’d be freeing him, pending further investigation, and he was free to leave.

Seifer allowed the officers to escort him out into the main room of the station. They unfastened his cuffs, handed him his jacket and thanked him, even though he didn’t really feel as though he deserved the thanks. He’d told them what little he could remember, about the drugs, about Squall acting in self defence and trying to protect him. Of course he’d lied about killing the second bastard who’d touched his lover.

Then the door proclaiming “Interview Room #2” creaked open and Squall stepped out of it, his wrists cuffed before him.

Seifer stopped dead in the middle of the station when he saw his lover. Squall was pale, deathly pale once more, like he’d been the first time Seifer had laid eyes on him again after four years. His clothes were clean and nondescript and fitted perfectly, and he assumed they’d been brought along by the chickenwuss who had hold of Squall’s good arm. The other sported a bandage, peeking out from beneath the sleeve of Squall’s tee-shirt.

It was Zell who saw him first, of course, his grip tightening minutely on Squall’s arm as he tried to steer him towards the door. The look in his bright blue eyes left no doubt as to whom Zell blamed for Squall’s condition and more than likely everything that had happened over the previous couple of years but Seifer only had eyes for Squall.

“Squall…” the older man said softly, a quiet entreaty. He ignored everything else, everyone else, the pale brunet the only thing left in the world to him.

Finally, Squall looked up, his gaze falling on his lover and the vulnerable expression he wore.

He shrugged out of Zell’s grip with only the faintest wince as his injured shoulder protested even that amount of movement, and crossed to Seifer, pausing only when he was half a step from the taller man. Squall lifted his head, studying Seifer for a moment. Only a moment, a brief consideration to his own apprehension and fear before Squall finally leant against his lover and nuzzled his cheek against his chest.

Seifer wrapped his arms around Squall tightly, his eyes fluttering closed as he rested his cheek against the still too dark brown locks of his hair. He had to hold on for fear of losing Squall again, as everything that they’d been through in the previous days caught up with him. “How you holdin’ up, baby?”

“Fine,” Squall murmured, his eyes tight shut as he pressed as tight as he could to Seifer. His hands were still cuffed before him and he couldn’t hold the older man like he wanted to. Nor could he bring himself to look up, to see that handsome profile washed out from lack of sleep and worry, and he sounded almost awed when he whispered “You’re safe.”

“I told you I wouldn’t leave you,” Seifer smiled weakly, tipping Squall’s head up and kissing the old faded scar. “I meant it.”

“Are you okay?”

He’d been perfectly fine the second he’d set eyes on Squall again. However, Seifer couldn’t bring himself to say those words when there was so much he still didn’t know, so much he wanted to ask. “I’m good, don’t worry about me. I want to know what happened in there,” he said, gesturing at the room Squall had just come out of.

Glancing back over his shoulder at the room briefly, Squall turned his attention to Zell, waiting for permission. However, Zell did not give it, but shook his head. “We gotta go, Squall.”

Finally Seifer let his gaze settle on Zell. The look he gave the tattooed man was not a nice one. It was a cold, hard look, a glare that Squall himself would have more than likely been proud of if he’d seen it. And when Seifer spoke again, his words were directed at Squall alone, his tone almost disbelieving. “You’re leaving?”

“I have to. The mission’s over,” Squall said, turning his head to kiss Seifer’s chest. He sounded less than pleased at the prospect, and his fingers flexed uselessly. “I swear I’ll come back to you.”

Bracing his fingers under Squall’s chin, Seifer tipped his lover’s head up. Brushing his thumb over Squall’s lower lip, he was unaware of just how hurt he looked to his quiet lover right then. He was confused, feeling just as lost as he ever had. “You don’t have to leave.

“I don’t have a choice. I will come back. I promise.”

Seifer gripped the back of Squall’s head, pressing his lips to his lover’s temple. Holding him tight enough that he was almost afraid he’d bruise the visibly fragile man. His heart was breaking. And Zell looked disgusted.

“Almasy, gimme your hand,” Squall said, fumbling with the Griever ring between them.

“You won’t come back, Squall. Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Seifer spat, yet still he clung to his smaller lover, trying desperately to keep him there, where he could hold him, where he could protect him. He wouldn’t let anything else happen to Squall, he swore it on his name, his blade and whatever was left of his honour. “Not now.”

When Seifer took Squall’s hand between them, Squall forced him to take the ring. He pressed it into Seifer’s palm and closed his fist over it. “I mean it,” Squall swore. His face was set in that old emotionless mask, yet there were the faintest signs that gave away his real feelings. The look in his eyes, the tremor in his voice, the tremble of his fingers. He was just as torn apart by this as Seifer was. “I promise I’ll come back to you. I love you.”

Of course he knew what that ring meant to Squall. He’d seen that symbol glittering around Squall’s neck so often that he didn’t dare pretend for even a moment that it was a worthless gesture. Seifer slid the ring onto his finger, the difference in the sizes of their hands relegating it to the smallest of his fingers on his left hand.

Without a word, he reached up to unclasp his choker, his own constant through all the years of training, and fastened it around Squall’s throat, kissing him softly. “You’d better, goddamnit. I want this back, you got it? I want you to bring it to me.”

Squall returned the kiss, and pressed as tight to Seifer as he could. He wanted to hold Seifer - Wanted to hug him and take that one final memory with him as he left but the cuffs took even that final comfort from him. “I will.”

Letting Squall go was the hardest thing Seifer had ever done. He embraced him one last time, taking one last kiss. Garden even managed to mar that, as Zell piped up “We’ll miss our train.”

“Love you,” Seifer whispered, his heart aching as he touched his lover’s face lightly. “Don’t forget.”

“I won’t forget this time,” he smiled weakly as Seifer released him.

Zell grabbed Squall’s good arm once more, practically hauling him to the door. He looked back with a glare as he pulled Squall outside.

Seifer watched Squall until the last possible second. He watched as his lover was torn from him again, a small but false smile painted on his lips that didn’t match the cold and lonely and hurt look in his eyes. He watched as Squall disappeared out into the rain with the cuffs still tight on his wrists and his heart breaking.

He was sure that, if the chickenwuss hadn’t been there, it would have made him break to see Squall leave him again. For SeeD.

Then, as he felt the tears prick at his eyelids, a soft half-sob escaped him and his throat tightened even as he forcibly closed off his emotions. Whatever pain was his, he would not break. Not him – not here. It would be later that night before he realised he’d already broken. On the inside, in the deepest, best hidden part of himself where only one person had ever been able to really see it.

That person was the one who’d just torn his heart out by leaving. That person was Squall Leonhart.


(more soon!)