Fallen.

Fallen

The characters contained herein belong to Squareenix and the song is the property of Sarah Mclachlan.


Thanks and dedications to Race Ulfson – who pointed out that this song was Seifer and it deserved fiction. Also for betaing and being wonderful.



Heaven bend to take my hand, and lead me through the fire.
Be the long awaited answer to a long and painful fight.



"You know I thought it would end like this from the second I followed her."

Seifer looked over at the machine on a nearby table, its power light shining red in the semi darkness of his cell like the unblinking eye of a lurking monster. At least he'd be able to say his piece and his goodbye to the last one who counted; his farewells to his posse already dealt with weeks before during the big trial.

"It wasn't all me, Leonhart. I promise you that," he sighed heavily, rolling onto his side on the thin cot, the springs whining a creaking protest as he moved. The blanket he'd been afforded had been balled up under his head to bolster the too thin pillow and his only source of warmth was his trench coat. He pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them briefly for some form of comfort or heat, Seifer wasn't sure which and he didn't like to say. He hadn't felt warm since he'd returned from time compression.

Well..., that wasn’t entirely true. He'd felt warm that day fishing on the docks as the garden - and more importantly, as Squall - had passed overhead. That was how it would always be, Seifer thought, Squall high above him, the golden boy in midnight leather hidden behind a shield of ice and scowls. Once he might have been jealous, now however he was simply tired. The dawn, and his death, was fast approaching and he simply wanted that to arrive, and with it, peace at last.

"Did you ever realise I loved you?" Seifer asked softly, watching the unblinking, emotionless light waiting in silence. Of course he was a brave man - he had taken on the world after all - but when it came to Squall and how he felt, Seifer was a coward. If there was an answer to that question, he didn't want to hear it, too afraid that it would be yes, and that Squall had never cared for him at all. That scared him more than anything else - even with the knowledge that the object of his affections could be a cold, cruel bastard at times, he still had to hope.

Below his window the neon city of Esthar shone like a jewel. The shields that protected the city from anyone who sought to conquer the technological marvel were up and he could see the lights of the city reflected in the sky, an eerie ghost of another world. Untouchable, unreachable and perfect. It cast dancing patterns of coloured light through the bars of his cell window, along with the silver glow of the full moon, taunting him with freedom and light and life constantly.

The press knew he was to be executed the following day, the day before their new prince's eighteenth birthday, but at least Squall had managed to convince his father to prevent any of them from attending the most auspicious occasion. Squall had even managed to keep the time that the final blow would fall secret from everyone but those directly involved.

Dawn was the moment he would draw his last breath and it was fast approaching.

"I should probably tell you what happened, huh?" he asked, his fingers tightening in the white dragon-skin leather of his trench coat. "I swear if you just said 'about damn time' I'll come and haunt your ass. No matter where you are, I'll find you."

He glanced at the sky briefly again, wondering just how long was left until the appointed time of his death. The glittering paradise of unreachable light offered him no answers. His cell was a dark shadow compared to that beautiful sight that had taunted him every night since his capture and transportation of Esthar. Seifer almost wished for the bitter chill of a Trabian prison just so he wouldn't have to see that vision of liberty between bars of cold hard steel, but Esthar had claimed him. Esthar had tried him.

Esthar would be the one to take his life with no second chance or last minute reprieve, with no one to reach for him and offer any hope.

"I'm not going to pretend that none of it was my fault, Squirt. For a start you'd know I was lying and I respect you too much to do that to you, anyway," Seifer chuckled softly, "You know I wonder what it would have been like if it were the other way around, if you'd been Ultimecia's knight. I don’t know whether I'd have been able to face you. Definitely not kill you. Probably a good thing it turned out the way it did, hm?"

Closing his eyes, Seifer pushed himself into a sitting position. Now, more and more often he was feeling old, as though he had spent years and not mere minutes lost in time compression. Never expecting to return to his own time must have done that, he supposed. Waiting to die, waiting to fail one last time. "Would you have killed me, Leonhart? I know you were holding back that last time at least. You always did fight too damn fair,” Seifer chided the machine. Sliding his hands over his knees, stretching his aching legs out in front of him, Seifer shook his head. He felt trapped, and tired.

“You know what she offered me, Squirt? She offered me you.”


Truth be told I've tried my best but somewhere along the way,
I got caught up in all there was to offer.
And the cost was so much more than I could bear.


“Yeah, you Leonhart. I was going to have you willing and eager. Pretty much the only thing she could offer to sway me, I guess,” the former knight mused, his voice soft and thoughtful.

Even now the lingering, poisonous touch of Ultimecia’s magic swelled inside him, growing to an oppressive weight in his chest. It made Seifer believe – albeit very briefly – that it were still possible. He could still achieve that lofty goal and win Squall’s heart. He shook his head to dismiss the thought and the urge.

“She made me follow her that first night in the TV station. Took me between time to talk to me and told me she needed a knight,” he smiled to himself at the memory of childhood dreams that the thought evoked. Heroics and pure romance wrapped up in a world where death was barely more than a distant shadow that never hung over their world and where life was simple but perfect. “Said I’d win you when it was all over and you’d be mine forever.”

He could almost see Squall behind his still closed eyelids, dark hair plastered to his skin with sweat and his dark eyes glittering with anger and pain. He’d looked so beautiful up on the wall of the interrogation chamber, arms held spread against the wall.

Seifer had marvelled at the way squall’s body had arched from the wall, some distant and dark part of him enjoying it. The dark haired lion had looked breathtaking like that, better than sex. And yet, that soft voice inside him had pleaded for him to stop, had whispered how wrong all of it was. “It was partly me when I tortured you too. I was so angry with you and Rin, I wish I’d been strong enough to say no but I just wasn’t,” Seifer admitted reluctantly, adding silently ‘even though I thought you looked just as beautiful as you did under me when we were fucking.’

“When I gave Rinoa to Adel, I guess that was mostly me. I wanted to get her away from you. I can’t believe I was jealous of her.”

A laugh bubbled from Seifer’s lips before he could stop it. Remembering the anger he had been consumed by at seeing his Squall, his prize running around after the weak little sorceress. Squall had been more of a lap dog than he ever had.

That intense envy had been heightened by the presence of Ultimecia’s magic in his mind. It had controlled him just as much as his sorceress had at times. Seifer was a slave to his anger, a slave to his lack of power and a slave to Ultimecia herself.

“You know, it’s a lot easier to talk to you when you’re not here, Puberty Boy. I don’t have to watch you to try and figure out what you’re thinking. Don’t have to worry about you endin’ up thinking so hard you blow a fuse.”

Seifer opened his eyes, looking up dark ceiling. With no idea of how many hours he had left he wondered if he was going to be able to face his end with dignity. “I am sorry for what I did. I know it’s not enough. Not nearly enough, but I am. Maybe if they’d listened to me, I could have tried to make up for some of it.”

Every death had stained his hands with blood. He’d half believed he would never be able to get them clean again but his own blood would repay some of that particular debt. “Hyne Leonhart, I know you’ll be giving me the ‘is that all?’ look, but I’m only human. There’s no way, nothing I could do to make up for all of that. Little bastard,” Seifer muttered accusingly. The mental image of Squall frowning at him in disapproval was so vivid he felt his hands clench into fists of their own accord.

It took a moment to calm enough to make himself let go, to let his hands relax and his heart stop pounding in his ears. “So… I am sorry. Even for that scar but if you knew what was good for you you’d thank me for it. Otherwise you’d be even prettier than your little girlfriend,” Seifer chuckled at the very idea, smiling wistfully. Everything had crumbled around him, he was paying the ultimate price for his transgressions, but he could still laugh.

Not exactly a fitting end for a knight though. The romantic dreams had become a nightmare.


Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low, I have messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here and tell me I told you so...


“They told me last night that you’re not coming to the execution. I was kinda pissed off when I heard but I’m glad now. I don’t want you here. Just seeing you like that might even manage to break me.”

As he watched, a thin shiver of light wound its way through the bars of the window and began to crawl across the ceiling. He didn’t have long to wait now. A brief glance confirmed his suspicions; the sun was beginning to peer over the horizon, the stir of clouds visible beyond the shield in the sky. The glittering ghost city was beginning to fade in the constantly shifting veil over the incredible city. “I never admitted that if anyone asks. Feels kinda weird talking to you like this though, I feel like a freak.”

Rolling to his feet, Seifer crossed the room to lift himself up by the bars of his window. Beneath him, the neon rush of life that was Esthar thrummed with energy. It seemed, somehow, more refined than Deling city, glittering sculptures of glass, metal and stone reaching for the distant shadows in the sky. “Do you hate me for what happened, Squall? I guess not if you tried to defend me, but you always were a little weird. Would you duel me now? Prove you’re better than me?”

The very idea of that was enough to make him ache for his gunblade, one last duel, the hero’s – and occasional villain’s death. On the field, fighting for your life and your honour. “I don’t think you would, would you? You’re too much like me, Squall. Acting like my little brother, following me everywhere, doing everything I do. You’d fight me just because you live for it. You do, don’t you?”

Seifer’s voice trailed off, his whole body aching for his weapon like a lost limb. No…, more like a lost lover. He felt as though he were only half a man, an incomplete heart whilst parted from his blade and it felt almost foolish to realise that once, many years before he’d felt exactly the same way about Squall Leonhart. Back when their days had been filled with games, those rare glimpses of a child who remembered how to play and smile when his thoughts weren’t lost to wherever his sister had gone.

“I think I’ve finally snapped, Leonhart. Must have, to spill my guts to you like this, right?” Seifer scowled to himself. He was beginning to feel self-conscious now that the light had begun to filter through the bars, casting hazy shadows and glittering on every dust mote that had dared to encroach upon his space. He half considered smashing the machine to a thousand pieces, but Squall deserved the apology he was offering. “If it had been SeeD that had come for me, I wouldn’t have fought, by the way. Well… not as much anyway. I would have given myself up eventually. Gotta have a little fun before I throw down my blade and get locked up forever, right? Or worse.”

Letting go of the bars, Seifer fell back onto the bed heavily. It whined and creaked as it took his weight. “I still love you, even though you haven’t come to see me,” he paused, his fingers playing restlessly with one of the buttons of his trench coat. “Wouldn’t expect you to come and rescue me even if you had showed, by the way. You know I have too much pride to let you rescue me regardless, don’t you?”

He allowed the silence to answer his question, just like all the others he had posed. “You know they even took my wallet? Can’t die with my personal effects, can’t have that. Bastards.”

‘So this is how it ends. This is my demise. Life isn’t fair after all,’ Seifer thought, mocking himself. His final hours and he wouldn’t even get to say his goodbyes to the only person who really mattered. His sole photograph of Squall had been in the wallet they’d taken, a picture of the dark haired young man in his student uniform at the tender age of only fifteen – scowling and beautiful.

He longed for a chance to see Squall, just one last time before his death but he didn’t deserve it, no matter how much it hurt to admit that to himself.

Closing his eyes, picturing the soft coffee waves of Squall’s hair, the dark silver of his eyes when he was angry and junctioned that was almost as beautiful as his natural blue. “I miss you. I want to see you but… I can’t.”


We all begin with good intent, love was raw and young
we believed that we could change ourselves, the past could be undone


He lay there silent for a while, his eyes still closed, still seeing only Squall’s beautiful face. That face haunted him, dripping with blood as it had been the morning before the exam, eerily beautiful and awful all in the same breath. That final morning before Seifer’s descent into madness.

The first brush of magic had touched him before he’d seen the sorceress face to face. Although Seifer hadn’t been able to recognise the compulsion for what it was at the time, now that the magic was ebbing away the truth was finally dawning on him. The sorceress had chosen him before he had even gotten out of bed the day of their SeeD exam.

“You know if I had won, we’d be in exactly the same situation, wouldn’t we? Even though you were promised to me, I bet she would have thought you were too dangerous to live…” the realisation hit him as swiftly and powerfully as a strike from Lionheart itself. “She would have destroyed you, and probably me as well.”

A humourless chuckle escaped him. A cold, cruel sound that just couldn’t be halted. “Bitch. I’m glad you killed her, Leonhart. Only wish I had a chance to do it myself.”

He turned his thoughts to more pleasant ideas and smiled, remembering those final moments that he’d shared with Squall. The final time he’d slept with his intense little lover, and the duel that had followed.

There was no real name for what happened between them. No romance to their arguments and no sweet nothings to be whispered. Just raw, animal urges and swift release of pent up aggression that not even a duel could relieve. He’d never managed to work out whether Squall had wanted anything else, or anything more. Needed, yes. Squall needed someone to care for him as urgently as Zell needed tranquilisers. Even more so, with his cold nature and that pain always in his eyes.

Squall, his sensitive little roommate from the orphanage. His rival, who hadn’t let anyone in far enough to make an impression on his much too vulnerable little heart for years. His Squall.

Somehow he just couldn’t see Squall with Rinoa. It didn’t work. Squall needed someone as serious and intense as he was, not a flighty little thing like Rinoa. He needed a rival, not a sorceress. “I hope you’re happy, Leonhart,” Seifer said, his voice perfectly serious. Seifer meant every word, and he was deathly afraid that Squall would fall just like he himself had. “Get out of SeeD; make a life of your own. Live already, Puberty Boy. Hyne, make your dad pay for it.”

The thought of Squall living that sort of life was as alien to him as the magic in his veins. And like that lingering sorceress magic, the idea itself was so very wrong and in the same breath so right. Squall needed to grow himself if he was going to be a better fighter.

“And you need to learn to fight dirty,” Seifer murmured aloud, his hands balling into fists again. “They won’t thank you for sticking to the rules. It’ll just get you killed… Live, you little bastard… who else will I haunt?”

If he felt alone without his gunblade, he felt naked without the choker that usually hung around his neck. He dreaded to think what had become of his most personal possessions. War trophies, sold to freaks and twisted fans. It was the last thing Hyperion deserved. She was a perfect gunblade, a magnificent image of power and beauty amalgamated into a flawless, sleek package. She should either die with him or be used in his stead, not stuffed into a museum display case. She was as alive as he was; she deserved to go on even if he didn’t. “I don’t know where my blade is, or my choker. Do me a favour and find ‘em for me. Take care of Hyperion. I just want someone who knows what they’re doing taking care of her. I don’t care so much about the choker… I just don’t want some loon wearing it like a trophy.”

His desire for peace was beginning to ebb as the pinkish-red tones of sunrise bled across the sky like an open wound. Seifer no longer wanted to die. It felt like giving up.

And it hurt.


But we carry on our backs the burden time always reveals
The lonely light of morning, the wound that will not heal
it’s the bitter taste of losing everything that I have held so dear


“I hate waiting more than anything. Where the hell are they?” Seifer said, rolling to his feet. An uneasy restlessness made him feel on edge, his heart pounding in his chest as he rolled to his feet again and began to pace the length of his cell.

Rubbing a hand over his chin, Seifer scowled. He needed to shave but they hadn’t even given him a razor, probably too afraid he’d finish the job himself and deny them the pleasure. Couldn’t let that happen, how would the morbid bastards get their kicks? “Kinda thought there’d be some great epiphany here, you know, Leonhart? Something wise I could leave you with instead of just get your ass out of SeeD. Though your ass has been the source of a couple of my epiphanies over the years.”

Stretching, Seifer smoothed out his coat carefully as he tried to at least make himself look as presentable as possible; sleepless nights had left his clothes creased as he’d tossed and turned. He felt almost as scruffy as he had in that final battle with Squall and his little entourage when his once immaculate trench coat had been tattered, torn and burnt beyond recognition. Reduced to just a grey shadow of its former pristine splendour.

“I wanted to thank you, Leonhart. For what you did for Rajin and Fujin. Not many people who would have done that, especially after they spent so much time helping me.”

At least Seifer knew that they had been cleared of all charges, and helped to start again in the aftermath of the trial, when official eyes had turned towards his posse with less than honourable intent. Squall had stood up for them just as he’d stood up for Seifer, saying that to charge them for following orders was a farce and by that logic Galbadia was entitled to charge him with murder as well. “I can’t believe how much I owe you, you little bastard and I’m still asking for more favours. How can I need more? How can I even ask for anything else? You must be laughing your ass off, if you even remember how.”

He turned at his cell door, the bars showing him a glimpse of cold concrete floors and walls, a solid grey world that one would have never believed could have existed in the amazing world of shimmering glass and metal that was Esthar.

Seifer’s hands hung useless at his sides as he leant his forehead against the metal bars. It was in moments like this that he most missed his blade. Somehow she helped him concentrate and helped to take the edge from the tedium when she was at his side, to calm him and ease his worries. Now with the end fast approaching he needed the meagre amount of comfort afforded to him by his weapon.

So unfair. It felt so unfair.

Seifer growled to himself, turning to slam his fist against the wall. Pain shot along his arm, making his fingers flex involuntarily but he stifled the cry of pain and rage that the action had tried to draw from his lips. “Be careful, Squirt,” he hissed. “Can’t tell you that enough.”

Closing his pale green eyes once more in an attempt to forget his surroundings and his fast approaching fate he tried to think of something, anything other than Squall’s face. Even the faint chill of the prison wall as he leant against it served to remind him of the brunet - the way his skin had felt like ice from the moment he’d first junctioned Shiva and their first stolen kisses the winter after his fifteenth birthday out in the secret area of the training centre.


Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low, I have messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here and tell me I told you so...


“Will you miss me?” Seifer laughed a deep belly laugh. “I bet I know the exact look you just gave me, that look you gave the kid… Nida? I think that was his name. The look you gave him when he asked you on a date. The one somewhere between ‘what the fuck’ and ‘what the hell are you taking’… It’s still the funniest damn thing I ever saw you do. Then that night you crawled into my bed again and I barely knew what hit me.”

Squall’s legs had been wrapped around his waist; Squall’s pale fingers had been squeezing tight on his shoulders… Seifer had been one of the lucky kids that had no roommate and Squall could be so loud at times – for him at least – that Seifer was more than thankful. At least with no roommate to listen he had no reason to stop or silence the cries of pleasure.

He’d come away bruised after that particular evening, and Squall had been forced to resort to wearing a shirt with a high collar to hide the marks of longed for possession on his pale throat. Seifer had sucked at Squall’s skin hard enough to mark and claim him in far more intimate and well hidden places but that spot just beneath his collar was so much more exciting. One careless movement and it would be bared for all to see.

Squall had been painfully careful about it of course, not showing the mark for even a second as the day had passed. Not until Seifer had caught him in the training centre and pushed it away, kissing the bruised flesh and Squall’s lips briefly before offering one of their more habitual duels.

Later Seifer had taken care to kiss every mark he could find to murmur incoherent and pleasure drunken apologies that Squall neither heard nor needed in his own room. Squall had offered his moans only to his pillow even though his roommate was gone for the evening.

There were so many sides to Squall that he hadn’t been able to touch upon. Now the greatest tragedy of it all seemed to be that he’d never have the chance to try. “I’d miss you if it were the other way around. Sometimes I even think I’d follow you if you died, even though you’d hate me for it. Not really my style though, you know? Still have Fujin and Rajin to think about. I’m glad they’re gonna be okay on their own, without me.”

There was a distant, creaking echo of a door being opened, far off down the corridor. Seifer straightened again, brushing imaginary lint from his lapel and hoping he wouldn’t look too bad for the firing squad, or whatever method had been chosen for his demise.

“This is it, Leonhart. They’re coming for me,” Seifer said, licking his suddenly dry lips as he laid a hand on the recording machine briefly. As though he could somehow touch Squall through it. Of course his hand found only cold, unyielding plastic, not the frost touched flesh of his lover’s cheek. “Take care of yourself, Squirt. Okay? I kinda promised myself I would do it a long time ago but if I’m not gonna be around… well. You need reminding. And I meant it, I love you. I … I’ve always loved you.”


Heaven bent to take my hand, nowhere left to turn
I'm lost to those I thought were friends, to everyone I know


The sound of light footsteps approached along the concrete floor, drawing ever closer in an unhurried pace. Why were they so slow? Esthar should have been eager to get rid of him, run along the corridor and finish him off quickly, remove the threat of a man who followed his orders to the letter no matter what they were or how wrong they felt in the morning’s light when his hands were still stained with blood and Ultimecia’s magic had ebbed to almost the point of nothingness.

He could have broken away from her in those quiet times if only he’d been a little stronger. If only he’d known whether Squall would shun him or shelter him. Now it was much too late for if only’s and Seifer was too proud to beg for his life.

A figure dressed in black Estharian robes paused in front of his cell and turned to face him slowly. The long hood covered the man’s face and cast the slits of his eyes into dark shadows to prevent him from seeing just who or what was hidden within the reams of black Estharian cotton. The flowing material disguised everything – height, build, sex. With the robes the executioner could have been five feet tall or six foot six and anywhere in between.

Though he could not recognise his executioner, he recognised the method of his demise as it gleamed from the anonymous figure’s hand.

The deep grey steel of his gunblade shone with that unearthly glow in the early morning light. Hyperion would bring him his death and he almost laughed aloud again. At least he would die by a blade. It was better than some of the options he’d imagined. More intimate, perhaps even more fitting. Whatever it was, he didn’t care any more.

When the figure unlocked his cell door, withdrawing the bolt with the large brass key and an echoing, satisfying thunk, Seifer considered rushing him – he was assuming it was a man, he could count the female gunblade experts he’d seen or heard of on the fingers on one hand but then there weren’t that many more male ones – but he paused. The gunblade was an unusual method of execution but he supposed Squall must have requested it.

So for Squall and for himself, he would face it with dignity.

Seifer held his arms out in front of him, not flinching in the slightest as the stranger snapped the cuffs onto his wrists. At least they thought he was dangerous enough while unarmed to warrant that. It bought a smile to his face and gave him a longed for ego boost.

He never would have hung his head as he followed the robed figure out of his cell, but the knowledge that he was still a viable, dangerous threat made it a hell of a lot easier to keep his head held high.

“See you ‘round, Leonhart!” Seifer called back to the machine. The quiet little doubts and longings and uncertainties that had plagued him on and off all night could be swept aside so easily now. Seifer was surprised at that more than anything but the only remaining wish he had was for one last glimpse of Squall. A nod of forgiveness or reassurance, a caress of his hand, perhaps even one final kiss…

It dawned on him that he should have wondered why he had only one guard a heartbeat before both he and his executioner both turned the corner. The SeeD he’d once known were lined up against the wall, the children he’d grown up with and the dark haired beauty that’d spent a summer with him but never held a candle to Squall. Each of them stood, weapons at the ready, waiting… waiting.

At least his friends weren’t there. No, Fujin and Rajin were long gone for their new life in Timber where they were at least a little admired for their attempts to free the town before the war.

All the SeeD he’d grown up with were there in full dress uniform. Except for one.

Squall Leonhart was not there.


Oh they turn their heads embarrassed, pretend that they don't see
but its one missed step, you’ll slip before you know it
and there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed


Seifer even admitted to himself that he was proud he hadn’t flinched at the sight of the people he’d played with as a child. His smirk faded just a little, and he struggled to keep his eyes ahead as he passed the waiting figures.

Zell was managing to keep still for once, though his hands were curled into fists tight enough to turn the knuckles of his ungloved hand white. His bright blue eyes contained all the emotion he was trying so very hard to contain, the pain and anger that would have usually marred his expressive features all hidden there instead. Seifer half wondered who that anger was directed at, and almost considered apologising for a moment.

But it was only a moment, and it soon passed.

Irvine stood with an arm around Selphie’s shoulders. Irvine’s cool sea green gaze wavered only when Seifer had passed, his grip on the small, sobbing girl who burrowed further into his embrace tightening. The tiny figure – had Selphie even grown at all? She seemed so small - wouldn’t look at him, her small hands fisting in Irvine’s jacket. That almost bothered him, the haunting sniffles of an upset girl.

The person he’d most expected to turn her head when he passed was Quistis. He was proof of her failure, the student she’d never been able to make an impact on, one of the few she’d never been able to impress as a student, tutor or as a SeeD, Maybe because he could never look at her without thinking of the stick thin, awkward little girl he’d said goodbye to when she’d left the orphanage.

She looked him right in the eye, bravery or perhaps sheer stubbornness forcing Quistis to keep her eyes on his as he passed her. Seifer had to hand it to her; she was almost as determined as Squall. She’d stood by Squall at the trial as well, telling what Seifer’s state of mind had been – to her knowledge – as he’d escaped the disciplinary room, unaware of the bond that was already forming with his sorceress.

Rinoa, however, glowered at him before turning her head away. He knew he deserved that, but it hurt. Even if he didn’t dare to show it. Too much of a weakness, too much of a vulnerability to show this late in the day to garner any form of pity. Not that he wanted pity. Seifer Almasy no longer existed to Rinoa heartily as a friend or the hero he had once been. All that was left was the evil arch villain. At least that guaranteed he would be remembered.

Her pretty, deep brown eyes were rimmed red from crying badly enough to make Seifer wonder what had happened. The tears weren’t for him, he was as sure of that as he was of anything, so Seifer could only assume that they were for the absent, leather clad commander of Balamb Garden who’d stood up for a fellow knight when so very few others would.

With Squall nowhere to be seen, he could only assume the worst. Was the anal little bastard injured? Dead? With a night of no sleep and the resulting exhaustion playing upon his frayed nerves he wondered if perhaps that was why the others were so subdued. Selphie’s tears, Zell’s unusual stillness, maybe something really had happened to Squall.

Though, when he’d asked for the recorder so he would be able to leave one final message for Squall, his jailors had said nothing. Would they? Even if Squall was the son of their beloved president, he was still a fiercely private man who most wouldn’t dare to question. Squall’s friends would know of course, and none of them were quite so skilled at hiding their feelings or fears as Squall was.

Whatever was happening, or indeed, had happened already, it was much too late for Seifer to do anything as his executioner opened the door at the end of the corridor.

Seifer squared his shoulders again and stepped out into the early morning sunshine, blinking at the brightness after what felt like a lifetime in that prison cell. The warmth of the light on his face felt so much more intense now he was outside, and the sweet scent of the flowers that edged the courtyard he’d been led into made the very fact he was going to die here, in this peaceful place, seem quite surreal.

The flag-stoned quad that stood raised above the rest of the palace gardens was shielded from sight by trellis work and sweet honeysuckle. The dark green leaves wound through the old wood, preventing prying eyes from seeing what lay within the private area. Birdsong filtered from the trees of the rest of the garden and Seifer admired the serenity of the place, even if the low stone in the centre had only ever been intended for one purpose.

Seifer wondered what the heat would be like up here in the midday sun, beating down with no shade and no relief.

Just as well he wouldn’t be around to experience it.



Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low, I have messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here and tell me I told you so...



Laguna Loire, president and Squall’s father stood beside the door, his arms folded across his chest. His face was almost as expressionless as his son’s could be at times. His dark green eyes turned to the stone at the centre of the courtyard where Seifer would be placing his head and forfeiting his life.

“Nice day to die,” Seifer mused aloud as he gazed up at the nearly cloudless sky, still painted with purples, pinks and fading to a blue that hinted at a perfect day.

The president flinched at Seifer’s soft spoken words, the emotion too much for him to hide. He would have smirked at that but Seifer couldn’t quite find it within himself to bother anymore.

With a gentle tug on Seifer’s arm, the shrouded figure regained Seifer’s attention once more and led him slowly towards the low plinth. This must have been where Adel bought her betrayers, or perhaps the ruler before her since Adel had always seemed an utterly sadistic bitch in the few stories he’d heard, the kind of person who would revel in torturing her betrayers in public. Ultimecia had been so very disappointed and angry when Squall had denied her that chance to take the red haired sorceress’ powers for herself.

It was easier than he’d suspected it would be to kneel before the white stone. Any bloodstains had long since been worn away by the wind, the rain and the heat of the sun. If Esthar even had a weather system. He had to wonder sometimes, he’d barely seen any change in the months he’d been there. Granted he had been shut in away from the outside world for much of that time.

The rock felt cool against his cheek as he crouched over it, looping his arms around the low boulder, hugging it as the shrouded figure of his executioner spread his handcuffed wrists carefully so he wouldn’t injure them in the deathblow. A gentle irony not lost on Seifer.

The night’s chill still lingered in the stone as his fingers found worry worn purchase and clung to it for dear life. He wouldn’t wonder how many people had found that same spot, pressed their fingers into the small but so comforting dimples within it, because he didn’t want to know. It wasn’t selfish to not care about any others now, but he couldn’t help close his eyes and imagine Squall, just once more.

Seifer watched as the dark silver blade rose slowly. It seemed almost tortuous, cruel to draw it out when he was waiting, and waiting, and waiting…

He closed his eyes when Hyperion finally swing downwards in her deadly arc and the door behind him clicked closed.

There was an almighty clang that deafened him for a moment and… Seifer was decidedly not dead. He knew he was not dead because his heart was beating so loudly that he couldn’t hear anything else, thundering against his ribs violently.

Cautiously, so slowly he as barely moving he lifted his head to look at his hands. His handcuffs had been severed by the vicious blade he adored and worshipped as he might a god. And he wasn’t dead. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a slender streak of blue peering from between the folds of the heavy black robes the executioner wore. A familiar cerulean blue that hummed with the energy of pulse ammunition. A master’s gunblade. Maybe the only one of its kind that wasn’t locked up in some dusty collection. Maybe the only one he’d ever see in person.

Lionheart.

His head snapped up as the figure’s free hand pulled the hood from his face and Squall’s chocolate brown hair tumbled into his storm cloud eyes. The very faintest attempt at a smile curled his lips, shy and cautious.

Seifer’s heart had yet to stop pounding.

“Leonhart…,” Seifer breathed, his mouth suddenly dry and his voice – much to his horror and embarrassment – cracking. Perversely the first thought that entered his head was ‘he’ll never get to listen to the recording I made for him.’ It felt stupid to be suddenly struck by that sole thought when here he was, on his knees before the person he’d been longing to see all night. His cheeks felt hot and he hoped he wasn’t blushing.

Squall shifted his grip on Hyperion, turning the heavy weapon to offer the hilt to Seifer. He still didn’t speak, not even a word. His eyes were still on Seifer, that same intense focus, solely on him. The gaze almost enough to turn Seifer’s head away for giving up and letting them win - but not quite.

“Are you offering me a duel?” Seifer was the first to speak, one still cuffed but free hand snaking up to grip the hilt of his weapon and take it from Squall’s grasp gently.

Shaking his head, his mussed hair shifting to fall into its proper place as though it didn’t dare to displease the commander of one of the most powerful mercenary forces in the world for too long, Squall offered Seifer a hand. “Maybe later. We’re getting out of here.”


Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low, I have messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here and tell me I told you so...


Aghast for a moment, Seifer stared at Squall's hand. He wasn't wearing his gloves for once, the slender fingers bare and pale, and the last time he'd seen them like that had been the morning of the exam, before Seifer’s free will had been taken from him. For just a moment, he considered ignoring the offer, but when Squall breathed the word "please," Seifer took the offered hand and stood slowly.

A slow grin began to curl Seifer's lips as he looked down at the smaller man, meeting Squall's eyes properly for the first time since his trial. Squall had never looked away from him, even as he'd been in the dock trying to save Seifer's life, but Seifer had found it hard to return the scrutiny. Now he could do it without pause. "You were listening," Seifer said firmly. He wasn't sure how he knew but he knew nonetheless that Squall had heard every word that he'd said, that he'd heard the confessions and ramblings and all that self doubt. Seifer wasn't sure if he cared or not but regardless, Squall was here and had decided to rescue him despite Seifer never considering such mercy.

With a brief nod to answer Seifer’s statement, even though it hadn’t asked for one, Squall was the first to look away. He turned his attention to Laguna before releasing Seifer's hand to cross to the older man. Seifer watched as Laguna gathered his son up into a rather awkward hug.

"Let me know when you guys get somewhere safe,” Laguna asked, his hand cupping Squall’s cheek carefully. “You promised you would.”

“I know. I will,” Squall replied.

Seifer could feel the spell building up even before Squall cast. The sleep magic glittered from his fingers, sweeping over the president in the blink of an eye and he crumpled down.

Squall caught him before he fell too far, settling the older man against the wall. He only paused to brush back the silver tinged dark hair from his father’s deceptively youthful face before he turned from the president. “Let’s go.”

With a smirk, Seifer shrugged and motioned for the smaller man to lead the way.

********

Dodging the soldiers and more populated parts of Esthar had been harder than Seifer would have believed. It was easy to blame the lack of sleep the previous night and the long months of being unable to train or push himself while locked in that tiny cell; still Seifer cursed himself for it now as they literally ran for his life. The goal was the edge of the city where the Estharian jurisdiction would end and he would once again be, somewhat unofficially, a free man for a while.

When they finally reached the bridge, Seifer saw a dusty jeep peering from beneath one of the garden camouflage sheets. Seifer didn’t dare to permit his weakness to show beyond the heavy rise and fall of his chest, no matter how much his legs burned from the desperate flight.

Squall was barely winded, and he wasted no time in pulling the cover away from the jeep, rolling it up and throwing it into the back without a thought.

“Why?”

That made him pause, but he didn’t look up. Squall dragged a hand through his hair, though it tumbled into his eyes to remain as much of an annoyance as it had before. “I don’t know. You apologised, and… I was listening to what you said.”

With a laugh, Seifer shook his head. “Only you’d do all this to help someone and then close up when it got to the talking.”

That was enough to make Squall turn in place to look at Seifer. With his head held high, his expression set in the familiar cool, untouched manner it had always been even when they’d just fucked and were left sated and exhausted in the moonlight, Squall gave him that daring look. He was challenging Seifer even though something in his eyes gave away the unusual lack of heart behind it. “You need to talk? You never did before.”

Seifer closed the gap between them with his usual leisurely pace even though his muscles protested anything more than standing after the rush to get out of the city. “I do, later,” he said softly, sliding his fingers against Squall’s cool cheek and bending his head to rest his forehead against the smaller man’s. “So, since I still have a – rather lovely – head on my shoulders and you’re right here, is there anything at all you want to say to me?”

It was Squall who kissed him first. His hands threading into the blonde hair that had grown wild and unruly in the time Seifer had been locked up. His body arched against the taller man’s, coaxing Seifer to bend with him to forces as much of their bodies in contact as he could as Squall’s mouth moved against his. “Yes, there is,” he whispered, barely breaking the kiss while he bit at Seifer’s lips. “You need a shave.”

Laughing right against Squall’s lips, Seifer wrapped an arm around Squall’s shoulders. “You know I can’t leave you now ‘til I’ve repaid you saving my life. Right?”

Squall frowned suddenly, the expression almost seeming like a pout on his pretty lips and those haunting features. He shook his head and just as Seifer was about to ask what was wrong, Squall almost smiled. “I was hoping for something more… long term.”

“How long term?”

“Add that to the list of things to talk about later,” Squall ordered, a little of that familiar tone of command that Seifer had heard only in passing on the rare occasions he had seen the SeeDs in the war. “We should go…,” he whispered, though the brush of his lips against Seifer’s and the faint flutter of his eyelashes did nothing to convince Seifer to let him go.

Pushing Squall back against the jeep, pressing against him hard as though he could slip through Squall’s clothes and claim him just like that, Seifer kissed Squall again. He ignored the faint protest that escaped his once and soon to be lover at the roughness of his skin and the force of the kiss and almost devoured Squall with his intensity.

Squall was panting heavy as the kiss finally ended. “Get in the car,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with a need which would have been obvious even if Seifer hadn’t been able to feel the hardening of Squall’s sex through his clothes.

Though he wanted desperately to protest that, Seifer complied slowly. The first pangs of a headache that his exhaustion provided were already beginning to steal through his head and make him feel dizzy. “Fine. Where we going?”

“Dollet.”

Seifer raised an eyebrow at Squall, although he didn’t press further as he climbed into the jeep and slammed the door. Squall dropped into the driver’s seat and pulled onto the bridge that led to fisherman’s horizon and beyond that the Galbadian continent, and a new life.

He was just beginning to drift off despite Leonhart’s insane driving and continuous swerving to avoid debris on the road when Squall’s quiet voice suddenly woke him again. “Seifer?”

“Nn?”

“What you said, in your cell. I feel the same,” Squall said, swerving around a gap in the bridge and pulling onto a reasonably clear stretch. His concentration was obvious on his face and his still bare hands were tight on the steering wheel. “I think,” he added suddenly, turning his head briefly to check for Seifer’s reaction.

With a grin and a languid stretch, Seifer closed his eyes. “I knew you would, Squirt.”

********

“Hello?”

Squall sighed with relief as his father answered the phone, even though he hadn’t quite recognised the fact he’d been worried until that moment. “Laguna.”

“Hey! You made it?” there was a brief pause and one of those infectious laughs that made Squall’s mouth twitch into a small smile. “Of course you did, I didn’t expect anything less. How’s Seifer doing?”

Glancing back over his shoulder to the figure stretched out to take up all of the double bed, the late evening sunshine streaming through the open window, Squall wondered if he should wake Seifer to ask. “He’s fine but sleeping, he didn’t get much rest on the road,” he said, crossing the room to the open window. The sun was low in the sky, the night air was already beginning to cool and they hadn’t eaten since they’d reached fisherman’s horizon. “So, what happened?”

“I’m gonna get them to listen to the tape, maybe they’ll grant Seifer a pardon. If that doesn’t work, they might declare him dead so… I’d keep him out of trouble for a while if I were you. Don’t want you guys getting picked up before I have a chance to talk to them, okay?”

“You think I can control him?” Squall asked incredulously, resting his head against the cool whitewashed stone wall of the hotel room. The cool breeze that stole into the room was tinged with the scent of lavender and salt, it made him shiver despite the junction of Shiva still residing in his mind.

Suddenly, warm arms slid around his waist and a soft kiss was pressed to his shoulder. Seifer hummed sleepily, resting his chin against the area he’d just pressed his lips to and sighing softly in contentment. “Maybe not, but you can bribe me.”

Seifer’s weight against his back felt solid, hot and real. Squall shivered again but this time it was only from the sensation of having Seifer close to him again and the need that it invoked in him. Only distantly did he realise Laguna was saying something again, and he cleared his throat. “Sorry, Laguna. Seifer just woke up, what was that?”

“I said it must be love then,” Laguna chuckled.

It was hard to concentrate on his father’s voice and keep himself from whimpering when Seifer turned his head to litter soft kisses along Squall’s throat, his tongue tracing the lobe of Squall’s ear. “I…. Maybe. I ahh…” Squall hissed softly as Seifer nipped hard enough to sting. “I need to go, Laguna…”

“Oh, oh that’s what you meant when you said he woke up,” Laguna’s laughter rang through the phone again. Squall could feel the blush on his cheeks and was half sure that it would easily be seen from Esthar, let alone by the man currently attempting to devour his neck and earlobe. Lowering his head to let his hair fall to hide his eyes and the worst of the flush from his would be lover he sighed his defeat.

“I’ll call you when we’re settled, Father. Let us know if anything changes.”

“Take it easy, Kiddo. Have some fun, lighten up a little. And tell Almasy I said hi!” the grin was almost obvious in the president’s voice, though Squall wasn’t sure if that was a real suspicion or the fact that he’d gotten to know – and like - Laguna over the previous months despite his best efforts to the contrary. Squall was the one to end the call, letting his hand fall to his side as he shook his head.

“How long do you want?” Seifer asked, his arms squeezing around Squall’s waist tightly in an attempt to reassure the younger man that he was real, or perhaps that he wasn’t going to anywhere.

If he’d been able to find words to ask it, then and there, Squall would have asked Seifer just what had given him the idea that he could be so bold, or that he could interrupt what had truly been an important phone call. “How long are you offering?”

Turning Squall in his arms to face him, Seifer pressed a soft kiss to his lover’s lips. “Forever.”

A scowl caught Squall’s lips in his annoyance. He managed to hide the rest of his emotion in the cool mask of indifference quickly but that scowl and the pain in his eyes remained. “Don’t kid. I saved you because I wanted to, not because I expected payment.”

Seifer pushed Squall back against the wall roughly, not caring about the brief gasp of pain it caused Squall. They had exchanged worse in the past and would no doubt exchange worse in the future. “You listened to me all night and you still have the balls to say that? Were you really listening? I love you, dumbass!”

Whatever the moment of self doubt had been, it passed when Seifer cupped Squall’s cheek and dragged his fingers through Squall’s choppy brown locks. “…Prove it,” Squall challenged the older man, barely a heartbeat before forcing Seifer into a rough kiss.

Without saying a word, Seifer half carried, half dragged Squall to the bed, pushing him down and straddling his hips, pushing his shirt up and almost ripping it over Squall’s head. He bowed his head to kiss the pale flesh he’d exposed in the violent movement, the soft kisses poles apart from that daring manoeuvre. He took special care to linger over the large scar that Edea’s icicle attack had left on the sensitive flesh. “I thought she’d killed you when I saw you fall. I hated her so much and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“Seifer,” Squall hissed, arching up when Seifer’s teeth tugged lightly at one of his nipples. “Don’t tease, damnit. We have… forever to talk.”

That was enough to make Seifer’s knowing smirk return in all its golden glory and he tugged Squall’s pants down just as roughly as he had removed the shirt once he’d eased the leather past his straining erection. “I hope you have lube, Puberty Boy.”

“Pocket,” Squall said, crawling back up the bed to the pillows. He fell back against them, looking a more beautiful sight than anything Seifer had laid eyes on for years. His cheeks flushed and his legs spread wantonly, Seifer didn’t dare wait another moment before he located that bottle and crawled up between Squall’s thighs, like an animal stalking its prey.

Covering his lover, pressing the length of his body to Squall’s cool skin, Seifer kissed Squall again and pushed two slick fingers into the heat of his body firmly. If Seifer hadn’t been over him, Squall was sure he would have bucked off the bed. The touch was incredible, firm, confident, finding its mark as quickly as Seifer rocked the fingers in the familiar dance to find that point that made Squall cry in breathless pleasure. The smirk never faded as he stretched the tight body, listening to Squall’s breath grow rushed and the soft moans of pleasure descend into some darker need for release and pleasure and anything that Seifer could offer.

Lifting one of Squall’s pale, slender legs to rest on his shoulder, Seifer smirked down at the brunet. “Say it,” he ordered softly, his voice hoarse with his own need as he pressed the head of his erection against Squall’s opening.

Squall looked up at Seifer in confusion for a moment, his eyes glazed with the pleaser that Seifer’s touch had evoked in him. That look made Seifer feel like a lifetime had passed since the last time they’d slept together, and it was hard to continue to hold back from thrusting into the hot, willing body and taking his pleasure while making Squall scream in his own just as he wanted to.

“I… love you,” Squall gasped when he finally realised what Seifer was requesting. He’d told the older man on the way that he’d already broken up with Rinoa days before and that there was nothing but his rank to keep him in Balamb garden, but finally admitting that, those three little over used words that meant more than the world to him and were harder to say than anything else he’d tried, felt so incredible it took his breath away just as efficiently as the brush of Seifer’s fingers.

Then, with a single, firm thrust, Seifer was inside him and Squall was wondering if he’d ever been able to really feel anything when Seifer had not been with him. The intense pleasure of finally having Seifer’s heat inside him, filling him again, was more intense than the torture, or the icicle that had almost killed him.

He wrapped his arms around Seifer’s neck and forced him down into an embrace that both of them needed but neither would really admit to.

Seifer kissed Squall as though it were the last kiss they would ever share. He worshipped the quiet brunet in his own way, the stoic figure that had always been there throughout his life and he was still amazed that so few people had managed to see this side of him, the polar opposite to the face he showed in public, the passionate, free man that just seemed so incredibly alive.

“I love you, Squall,” Seifer whispered in return at last as he braced one hand on Squall’s hip to keep him in place, to keep him there as he slowly rocked his hips to press into Squall’s body over, and over, and over.

With every thrust of Seifer’s hips, somehow the blond seemed to go deeper, harder into Squall’s body despite the impossibility of that. He could feel the muscles shift and tense on Seifer’s back with every movement, the shifting beneath once tanned skin that had faded during his time in the cells of the Estharian palace.

The touch of soft fingers to his sex startled squall enough to make him cry out in pleasure. The calluses had faded a little, the skin healing while Seifer had been without an opportunity to train day in and day out as he always had during his time at garden and the touch almost seemed alien. Even though it felt on the verge of unfamiliar, Squall felt himself bucking up into that careful touch and forcing himself back for more eagerly.

Seifer’s fingers wrapped around the hard arc of his cock, and Seifer’s sex buried deep inside him, every thrust pressing that point that made colour explode behind his eyelids and pleasure shudder through his muscles as though Seifer were some drug that he had been aching for, Squall begged for more. “Fuck me,” he whispered, his fingernails digging deep enough into Seifer’s skin to draw blood and coax a hiss of pain from his lover.

Thrusting harder, with a strength Squall barely remembered thanks to his guardian forces and the efforts of his own mind to block the images of those stolen moments and exhausting nights from him, Seifer claimed Squall, right there and then. When the younger man suddenly froze, his mouth slack in a gasp of pleasure and his eyes squeezed shut as he came in pulses over Seifer’s fingers, Seifer bit his lover’s shoulder. The touch was hard enough to bruise, breaking the skin only in the most meagre manner to liberate a few drops of blood.

His hand still moving on Squall’s cock - his body still thrusting mindlessly as he milked the pleasure and hitching cries from his lover - Seifer came with a strangled cry of satisfaction.

After a moment, he collapsed against Squall, wondering if he would ever be able to move again. Assuming he would want to, of course.

It was a long time before Squall could find the strength to speak. When he finally did, his hand groped blindly for the jacket he’d hung over one corner of the headboard, seeking something he’d hidden there that morning. With a soft, satisfied noise he withdrew the silver choker and offered it to Seifer. “This is yours.”

His jade green eyes peering lazily up at Squall, Seifer took the proffered piece of jewellery and examined it thoughtfully. “Your dad said something about settling down, Squirt,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over the long silver plate with the faintest smile.

“You heard that?”

“You have your phone really loud. Going deaf, Squirt?” Seifer replied with a grin, finally slipping out of Squall’s body with a wince at the sensitivity of his sex and crawling up the bed to lie with his head settled on his lover’s shoulder.

“Do you know the meaning of the term, ‘settling down’?” Squall joked sleepily. That alone was proof enough of how much Seifer had managed to affect him in the lifetime of seconds that had passed between them only a moment before.

Seifer was silent for a while, lost in thought as his hand slowly inched its way from Squall’s belly to his throat. Finally he dared to unclasp the griever necklace with trembling fingers and instead, replaced it with the thick choker, making his claim on the quiet young man. “No…, but maybe you can show me.”

Squall closed his eyes before folding the griever necklace in Seifer’s grip and whispering a thank you. The gesture of offering one of his most prized possessions – aside from the gunblade which he could no longer imagine Seifer without - was one that Squall had scarcely dared hope for.

Seifer grinned at him sleepily and offered a wink before returning to the slumber he’d been awoken from by the telephone call. Squall stroked the unkempt blond locks of his lover thoughtfully.

Whatever was coming, no matter how difficult, or how testing, they would face it together.

And Squall was sure that this time, with each other to rely on, they would both win.