Final Fantasy VIII: The Weakness and Power of Flawed Depth Perception
"Good! You're awake."
Seifer's eyes focused slowly on the ceiling above him. He blinked once, twice, and then finally recognized the smooth ceiling of the infirmary, the crinkle of the bed under him, soft sheets covering the easy-to-clean plastic. He hurt everywhere and couldn't seem to focus, everything a little bit blurry and the parts of the room he could see tilted around him as he tried to raise up.
"Hey, stay down, man." A hand pushed his shoulder down so he was right back where he started. His head was cushioned on a pillow he had laid on before, but it had never felt this nice. His muscles hurt from where he had been shoved down.
"Don't be so rough with him, Zell!" Dr. Kadowaki's voice, Seifer thought, and there was a relief, that even if his mind was twisted and reeling, it wasn't so serious he couldn't remember. It made him a little sick to his stomach to recall, because all the memories were right there like a flash, one bad one shoved back by the presence of one worse. He took a deep breath because he had never liked vomiting and had done plenty of it over the last few days.
"I wasn't! Seifer, tell her I wasn't." Zell's face suddenly appeared over his, too close and too tired and Seifer wondered idly how long it had been since Zell had slept last.
"Get out of my face, Dincht," Seifer said, but it came out sounding hoarse and dry and it was like he was being kicked in the stomach again as he remembered why his voice was pretty much wasted.
"That's right, you shouldn't talk so much!" Zell sounded annoyed, as if he hadn't just asked Seifer to talk. "You've been through an ordeal, you need to rest."
"Where'd you learn a big word like that?" Seifer whispered, and at least he could still sneer at his partner.
Unfortunately, Zell didn't rise to the bait. He just sat back and for the first time Seifer realized he was sitting in a plush chair that had been pulled in and there was a blanket draped over the side. He wondered how long he had been out for. Then it hit him.
"You little piece of shit," Seifer said. "A sleep spell?" If he hadn't felt like vomiting just by moving his head, he would've nailed Zell in the solar plexus.
Zell rolled his eyes. "Your virtue is safe, and anyway, I wasn't too impressed with the—"
"Zell, not in my infirmary, please." Dr. Kadowaki bustled back over to lift Seifer's arm to listen to his pulse. "You're going to be fine. Zell and the other squad got you back in time for me to help with most of the damage."
"Nothing permanent?" Seifer thought of his morning jogs through Garden, the precision vibration of his gunblade, and it hurt waiting for the answer.
"You're going to have to take it easy for a few weeks, young man, but no, nothing permanent." Dr. Kadowaki checked his eyes and some reflexes and smiled down on him. "I'm going to keep you here for another day, just to be safe. You gave us all a scare, Seifer." The warmth in her words startled him into silence, and when he looked back at Zell it was no better, the other with a concerned frown on his face. He was going to drown in sentimentality. The silence was awkward when Dr. Kadowaki walked away and left him and Zell alone.
"Cid wants to talk to you," Zell said. "Listen, don't freak out or anything—"
"In other words, you did something stupid." It was odd talking to Zell like this, looking up, when he spent the majority of his time looking down.
"Yeah, right, I saved your useless life," Zell said. "I followed your orders and got them out, it was fine, they were in the van and gone and you weren't there. Fuck, Seifer," Zell swore and stood up, going to the edge of the curtained off area where Seifer lay. "You were just gone, and I went back in to find you and you're totally a lucky bastard that they tossed your gunblade out the window of that heap they hauled you off in. I would've never known." He hung his head. "I couldn't get Garden to believe me. They wanted to say you died in a fucking fire, but not even you're that dumb."
It was like tiny knives, piercing the same place over and over as it became clear what Zell was trying to say.
"Zell, Cid wants to see you," Dr. Kadowaki said from somewhere unseen and Zell looked back at Seifer.
"Listen, just rest now, okay? I'm gonna keep stalling Cid for awhile." Then he was gone, heading off toward the exit and leaving Seifer alone with his thoughts.
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"This is ten thousand kinds of boring," Zell said, leaning against the wall. "Why'd they choose us for this mission, anyway?"
Seifer didn't bother to look over at Zell. "They wanted me, of course. You're just a consolation prize."
Seifer knew to his right, Zell was giving him a dirty look, and that to the left, there was a long empty hallway of the private safe-house for a political family that opposed Vinzer Deling. Two bedrooms, both rooms without windows, and Seifer had been running the checklist through his head of all the entrances to the house since the couple and the two kids had gone to sleep. It was strange to stand around while a family ate dinner and played cards. It was stranger yet to escort them to the bathroom in case the people who were tracking them tossed something through the tiny window.
All in all, it wasn't a bad mission. A lot of standing around doing nothing, but Seifer was starting to feel strange, like something was off.
"Hey man, why are you so quiet? Talk to me or something, this is boring," Zell said.
"Because unlike you, I'm considerate," Seifer said, even as Zell snickered at him. "There's a family sleeping, genius, we're guarding them. Save the heart-to-hearts for later." Seifer understood how Zell felt, it felt like mission after mission the past few weeks had been action and this was the exact opposite. He frankly thought sticking both of them here was a waste of time and talent—not that he would ever say that to Zell—but what did he know about why Garden chose to do things.
It was unnaturally quiet, and Seifer could hear the hum of the lights in the ceiling as he stood facing the window that the end of the hallway. He had been keeping an eye on it for about an hour and even with Zell distracting him, he was finally sure.
"Six o'clock," he said, glancing back quickly at Zell. Zell's face blanked and then hardened as Seifer turned to face the window. Zell moved to stand against his back, solid and reassuring, and they had done this plenty of times to know it worked and it worked well if it was needed.
"Where?" Zell asked.
"I've been watching the window for awhile," Seifer said. "They're moving out there and they don't care that we see them at all."
"That's gotta be the stupidest—wait, they want us to see them?" Zell stilled. "Listen."
Seifer had heard it too, the sound of glass shattering, the thump and swell of fabric catching fire from the other side of the house. Den, Seifer thought, because it had the biggest window. "Time for Plan B," he said. "Wake them up and get them out." Even as he said it the window in front of him shattered, curtains catching fire as whatever had been tossed in hit the fabric.
Seifer watched the curtains flare and burn brightly as Zell dashed into the room the kids were in first, kids the first priority in the mission report he and Zell had shared. He wasn't scared, but this wasn't going to be easy by himself. There were sounds of more windows breaking around the house, the whoosh of flames, and he was starting to wonder if Garden had expected this.
"Seifer, we're moving," Zell shouted as he headed into the now open second bedroom. The man they were protecting peeked out of the room as he hauled his son up in his arms. Seifer watched him out of the corner of his eye as he stared at the open window.
"No, you're moving. Get them down in the basement and to the van," Seifer said, and god, he thought, Zell, listen now and leave.
Zell was wearing the little girl as a necklace, and she wouldn't let go of him as he tried to hand her off. "Almasy, give me a fucking break, that's why they have the damn tunnel. You can't go after them by yourself, we don't even know how many there are." He sounded pissed and that was better than anything else, Seifer knew.
"Dincht, take the family and go." He risked looking away to stare at him. "That's an order from your squad leader."
Zell's fists were nothing when it came to power. Seifer sometimes wondered how anyone could wear every emotion right on their face. It was a five second staring match which Seifer won thanks to the girl.
"I'm hot," she complained, looking up, perfect blue eyes blinking at him. In the bedroom, he could hear the mother in hysterics, and Seifer didn't blame her. They were supposed to be safe here and he could figure nothing else other than the fact that their other two team members were unconscious, or worse, dead. No other way for these people to move around so easily outside.
The fire was spreading along the carpet, fast burning synthetic crap. He could feel his palms sweating under his gloves as he gripped the hilt of his gunblade. Zell was heading into the bedroom where the entrance to the basement was even as he shouted, "I'm coming back, you unbelieveable ass!" His voice and the voices of the family faded even as Seifer turned to head toward the window, angry and determined.
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The next time Seifer woke, it was dim, the Infirmary quiet but for the noisy breathing going on in the chair beside him. Seifer turned his head to look at Zell, sprawled out in the chair with the blanket for a pillow, sleeping almost exactly as he took part in the world—never really still, never really quiet.
"Stop that, man," Zell said, voice a whisper. "I hate it when you do that shit."
"But you're so pretty when you're sleeping," Seifer said, wanting to smile. Some things didn't change.
Zell rubbed at his eyes and then looked at Seifer. "At least you don't look as bad as you have the last few days. I think after this I'll have to take over your title as the hottest."
"Squall would be next in line," Seifer said, just to watch Zell's cheeks flush.
It was normal, painfully normal, except Seifer was in a bed in the infirmary and Zell was some kind of hybrid worried little lady waiting by his beside for him to recover.
"Secrets in the dark," Zell said, startling him.
"Okay," Seifer said.
"What the hell did they do?" Zell asked, softly, and it was careful.
"Bull's-eye." Seifer closed his eyes. "They were already in the building. They wanted us to think they were shooting in from outside, and we fell for it. Right after you left one of them got me. No clue how; they must've been quiet as hell to do it."
"But how did they take you?" Zell sounded puzzled. "It couldn't have been magic."
"Couldn't it have been?" Seifer asked, taking deep breaths. "You know what we see out there just as well as I do."
"So you're saying it was." Zell's voice was flat, and Seifer felt the same way. He didn't bother to answer.
"Whatever they knocked me out with was pretty hard stuff," Seifer said. "A Stop spell gone wrong, soured, something."
"Fuck," Zell said, and Seifer agreed whole-heartedly, because it was proof of everything they had been wondering. "So are you gonna put it in your report?"
"No," Seifer said, "give me a break, Dincht, Cid would hand down the same explanation he does every time. They want us to think we're superhuman, and we're not."
"You're right," Zell agreed. "Are you going to put what happened to you in the report?"
"I don't remember what happened to me."
"And you're bad at lying, too," Zell said. "Hey, I rescued you, I know. Come on, man, don't do this."
Seifer opened one eye to look at Zell. "You think I should weep into your shirt over the things they did?"
Zell sat back and tossed up his hands. "You took the same classes I did, you ass. You don't have to handle it alone."
"I already did," Seifer said, and the conversation was over.
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Seifer woke up sore, in the dark, sick to his stomach, and wanting to throw up. His arms were twisted behind him, his wrist was on fire and he had a bag over his head. The material smelled like gasoline, and why not, getting high while captured was a great plan. He stayed still, and tried to listen, but couldn't hear anything but a slow drip a few feet away. His head was killing him and his muscles protested everywhere. He traced through his head for the symptoms and found it, just barely. Raijin had only cast Stop on him once, and this felt like that but hundreds of times worse; magic and items were only good for the cure, not all the aftereffects. He hated status effects but the recovery for Stop was awful. It was the only answer he could find.
Everything was a little muddled together, and he took deep breaths and tried to think. Fire, he thought, the building had been on fire. He had sent Zell away, and if the kid had gone back in, if he had, he was captured just like Seifer was or dead. Seifer wasn't going to think about it, because Zell was smart and quick on his feet. He tried to remember what had happened, how he had gotten here, and couldn't bring it up. It was all angry orange flames in his head and he couldn't remember. Couldn't remember seeing or hearing anyone, couldn't remember getting hit with a spell, nothing.
He shifted and started flexing limbs as well as he could to check for injury. Everything felt like shit but for his right wrist, which felt like it was going to make his arm catch on fire. He had probably been thrown around, tossed wherever he was and had landed on it.
It took some effort and hurt like hell, but he managed to scoot himself around and sit up. He was making involuntarily whimpering noises he could barely hear through the bag but ignored it; he was obviously alone.
"Practical lessons," he said, taking deep breaths. Zell had taught him this months ago for a reason he couldn't remember—Zell was always showing him useless things. He had laughed at Seifer because Seifer couldn't do it, but Zell wasn't all long legs, either. It had taken two hours, but Zell had tied Seifer up and made him prove he could do it for real before letting up, and oh god, he really didn't want to try it with his wrist hurting like this. It was more damage than what had already been caused and there was no Cure in sight.
"Suck it up," he said to himself, and even as bolts of pain stabbed up his arm, he slid his fastened hands under himself and jerked. He ended up falling sideways, tears on his face and arms behind his knees, and thank god, the hard part was over. It was just a matter of careful maneuvering until his arms were in front of him, shoulders aching. He was fastened with his own plastic restraints SeeDs were issued, and wasn't that a kick in the face.
He leaned back against the wall to rest after ripping the bag off his head. He still couldn't see anything, and the air smelled like something rotting, but it was better than the smell of gas. He was rubbing threads off his face when the door swung open. He froze.
"Sleeping Beauty is back with us!" It was male, shouted down a long hallway that echoed. Seifer couldn't see anything; it was frustrating, there was no light from anywhere.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
An immediate whisper and Seifer jerked as his head slammed against the concrete wall he was resting on. He sucked in a breath as the owner of the voice came closer. "You don't get to talk yet, SeeD," he said. "There's more where that came from, in case you were wondering."
His hands were shaking. Proof was in the electric shock, he thought. They were using magic and they didn't sound very respectful of his status. They weren't SeeD—unless they were rogue, but he had never heard of such a thing. He kept his mouth shut, because he didn't want a repeat performance. There were more footsteps outside—three more people by the sound—and the room became heavy with breathing. Seifer had no clue how they could see in the dark.
"Hello, Seifer Almasy." The voice was female, and pleasant. "Welcome to your new home."
Someone kicked him in the side sharply and he hissed and bent over. "The lady welcomed you, maggot. Say hello." Male again, Seifer thought as he breathed through the pain, slotting them by voice.
He swallowed and said, "Hello." He could do this, he thought, there was a class about this; he had taken it and passed it. He repeated it in his head.
"That's better," she said. "You people are clever, I'll give you that. Underground tunnels and getaway vans! I'm actually impressed." She paused. "Do you know who you were guarding, Seifer Almasy?"
Seifer thought about it for a second. "Yes." It took a few seconds, but then his entire body was shocked again, worse this time, ten seconds of electric vibration and he retched as it finished, hunching over. Not just magic, he knew. It was high level magic, and he was fucked.
"Now, don't be so shy." Her tone was kind, and Seifer hated her for it. "Do you know who you were guarding?"
"Vinzer Deling's Minister of Public Relations," Seifer said, "and his wife and seven year old twins."
"Good boy," she said, and actually patted his head. He wanted to punch her in the face. "Poor Nathaniel couldn't handle being part of the good old boys anymore and had to scamper away to hide. Do you know why he left?"
"No," Seifer said. "We were not given that information."
"I can tell you why!" She stood up and walked around the room. Seifer imagined they had to be wearing night goggles of some sort. "Nathaniel Caraway decided that he didn't want to play a part in the murder of a woman. Do you know who this woman is?"
"No." Seifer wondered exactly what this woman was trying to prove.
"Nathaniel Caraway not only helped this woman escape, he is the only living soul left alive that knows where she is," she sounded thoughtful. "We could have had him, but no, we underestimated SeeD once again."
Seifer didn't know what she was talking about, but he had decided they must be part of Deling's Secret Service that wasn't supposed to even exist. Deling had claimed it was a figment of everyone's imaginations. Well, Seifer's imagination was just fine and he didn't have any information for them. He was useless and that meant if he wasn't about to be killed, he was about to be tortured for information he didn't have.
"Listen up." She kicked him in the knee, hard, but he didn't make a sound. "There are people very interested in this woman. Are you sure you don't know her?" She bent down in front of him, and it was disconcerting to have her face so close and not be able to see anything. "Her name is Edea."
Seifer said, "I have no idea who that is."
"Hmm!" She stood and walked away. "Unfortunately, I don't believe you." It was a small rustle as the other two who had came with her left. Seifer still felt the presence of the man next to him. This time, the high level Thunder spell knocked him out.
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It was sunny and the room smelled like cinnamon buns from the cafeteria, which is what woke Seifer, muscles complaining. He was soaking wet and shaking and the nausea hit him full force at the smell, sickly sweet and disgusting. It was easier this time to turn and vomit in the bucket that had been left after the first accident, stomach muscles clenching and unclenching in turns, body aching with it. It was undoing everything he had done however many hours before, eating the crap they had given him, and he breathed and coughed over the side of the bed. He was barely able to press himself back into the sheets, shaking and weak. It was miserable, just like all the times before and he fucking hated it. He took deep breaths and closed his eyes, wanting this to be over, wanting to go back to his room as he could be sick alone instead of here in front of whomever came in through the curtain surrounding his bed.
"Here you go," Dr. Kadowaki said, and she was suddenly sitting on the edge of the bed and there was a cool cloth on his forehead, covering his eyes. "Guess your stomach wasn't ready for the broth, then, if even the smell of food sets you off."
"I feel like shit," Seifer said, and his throat was hurting again.
"I imagine you do." Dr. Kadowaki stood. "I've put some ice chips right beside you on the table. Take them as you will and we'll try food again in about seven hours if you're feeling better."
Seifer did as she asked as she departed to clean up, but his arms soon felt too tired for that effort so he gave up and relaxed against the bed. It wasn't as comfortable as his bed, and that wasn't saying much, so he had to be feeling at least a little better. His head still hurt, he couldn't eat anything and his entire body was a gigantic bruise, but at least he wasn't dead. He closed his eyes and kept them closed even when Dr. Kadowaki came to take the cloth and ice away.
He was still for a few minutes until he heard the unmistakable squeak of Zell's shoes at the entrance of the infirmary.
"Hey, doc! I brought some of Seifer's books for him to read in case he gets—what?" There were quiet voices and then Seifer heard Zell muttering apologies.
"Seifer is still very ill, Zell," Dr. Kadowaki said. Seifer could only roll his eyes at that. It felt like the biggest understatement she could have chosen.
"Shouldn't he be getting better?" Zell asked, annoyed. "I mean, I know what they did to him was pretty bad—"
"We only know about what you've told us, Zell." She sounded weary. "You said he had Zombie cast on him, and that's bad enough because we don't know what restorative items or magic they used on him. I taught you both in that class; you know how subtle the differences can be depending on what is used. The usual side-effects are present, as he's not been able to take to regular food, yet, but it's more violent than I've ever seen." She sighed and he could hear her shuffling papers. "Seifer doesn't remember anything after his initial interrogation, or so he says. It would be better if he could because I could treat him more effectively, but part of me hopes he doesn't. I've seen that personally and wouldn't wish it on anyone. Are you sure you know nothing else? Has he told you anything?"
Secrets in the dark, Seifer thought, and he was relieved when Zell responded in the negative.
"As I thought," she said. "Don't look so dejected, Zell, he'll be fine. He's strong."
"Maybe." Zell sounded distracted, the way he did when he was thinking about something serious. "Is he really? I don't know sometimes."
Seifer lay in shock as Zell paused and then started to whine and beg to sit with Seifer until he woke up. Dr. Kadowaki finally gave in.
"As long as you don't wake him," she said. "I'll kick you out of here. He needs to rest."
Seifer managed to arrange himself in a semblance of sleep before Zell bounced in. He couldn't feign sleep as well as Zell could, so turned over to face the opposite wall, even though it hurt his shoulder, and listened to the other boy hum under his breath until he finally dozed off.
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He woke up the first of several times, disoriented and thirsty, bag back over his head. There was a light on this time, shining hotly above him, and he took the bag off to examine it. It was one flimsy bulb, but it was bright. Seifer stared at it for awhile, eyes burning, until it suddenly went off and the room went back to deep cave darkness. He closed his eyes and dozed, only to wake again an unknown time later with the light back on.
He knew what they were doing, knew it was useless. His sense of time was already confused. He had been hit with too many spells and blows. He didn't know how long it had been since he had been captured or if it was morning or night. The pain in his wrist had faded to a dull ache or maybe he was just in shock. He couldn't tell that, either.
He recited the mission report in his head a few times and then wondered if he had won the bet he had made with Zell over the card tournament in Deling. He figured he would never know now. The floor was hard and cold but he didn't feel like moving, didn't see the point and didn't really have the energy, anyway. He was hurting worse now in more places. His knee was throbbing, his side hurt and he just wanted to sleep.
The light went off and the door squeaked open while he lay there and he didn't bother trying to look. He just closed his eyes and concentrated so he could read the darkness. Three people walked in; the light steps of the woman were already familiar to him.
"Good morning, sunshine!" she said, voice falsely bright, and it didn't mean anything, Seifer knew. Wordplay and hope here weren't two different things. He lay still.
"Good morning." For some reason, being polite counted with these people.
"Oh, baby not feeling so well?" The voice was sarcastic and the kick to already sore ribs was hard. He coughed and rolled, but didn't ball up. Balling up was just an invitation for more. "Well, Seifer Almasy, it's about that time. Time for you to tell us everything you know about Sorceress Edea."
Seifer opened his eyes in shock as what she had said registered. This Edea they were hunting was a sorceress; if it was so then no wonder they wanted her so badly. He took a deep breath. "I've already told you I don't know anything about her."
"And I've already told you I think you're a lying little shit." The cheer in her voice was still present. "You're SeeD, give me a break."
"I have nothing to tell you." There was silence as he was surrounded. He expected another shock of electricity, or maybe fire this time to change things up. Magic by people who weren't SeeDs was no longer impossible. He had been told it was. He didn't understand and didn't know if he had been lied to or if Garden simply didn't know that people like this were junctioning. He had been stripped of his junction while unconscious. He never thought he would miss the icy cool feeling of Shiva in his mind.
"Last chance before we get mean," she said. "Trust me, you won't like us when we're mean."
Seifer had a few snappy comebacks for her, but was resigned. It didn't mean death yet, he didn't think, but it wasn't a happy ending, either. He shook his head, convinced they could see him, to test his theory.
"Sad for you." She almost sounded apologetic.
When it came, it wasn't the sharp electrical current he had been planning for or even the suffocating feeling of a third-level water spell, which he had feared the most. It was worse, a blast of icy cold and the feeling his entire body was numb, the pinprick sensation everywhere, and he froze.
"He realizes his mistake!" The humor in her voice no longer shocked him, his mind reeling with what had just happened. "How does it feel, Seifer Almasy?"
He didn't answer, couldn't answer, and he was going to die here after all, but it wouldn't be slow. They were going to kill him two ways, and god, he didn't want to die like this. The wetness on his face barely registered, his skin burning, rotting, with the spell, as the first Cure cast washed over him. He didn't even hear himself scream.
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Dr. Kadowaki walked in briskly an hour before Seifer was supposed to try broth again, and had him looking up from one of the books Zell had brought him.
"What's going on?"
She looked worried, which made his stomach clench, which thankfully didn't make him feel sick. The feeling alone was bad enough.
"Cid is coming in to see you," she said. "I tell them you're still not well and don't need the stress, do they listen? No, of course not." He knew her angry voice, had been on the receiving end plenty of times. She was straightening the room, folding the blanket Zell had left haphazardly tossed on the chair, nervous movement, and he wondered what she had to be worried about.
"It's fine," Seifer said as he shrugged. It was going to happen sooner or later, so why not now, he thought. At least Zell wasn't here to muck him up.
She looked at him, eyes concerned. "You're sure you don't recall anything about your captivity?"
Seifer shook his head and met her gaze. "Still nothing except what I've already said. You think it might come back eventually?"
She just stared at him, and this was one contest he knew he could win, but she shook her head and turned to go. "I don't know, Seifer. If you get tired or feel sick while Cid's here, call me and I'll have him leave." She muttered something else Seifer didn't catch as she departed, and a minute later Cid ducked in, with a Garden Faculty member behind him.
"Seifer," Cid said, smiling. "Glad to see you up and around."
Seifer had worked with the Garden Faculty plenty while still running the Disciplinary Committee; it was they who had given him most of his powers. Here, it felt wrong; he didn't like being spread out in front of one of them in sweats and bare feet, unable to see them when they could so easily see him.
Cid took the chair Zell had been using and stared at Seifer. "So, you've had a bit of an adventure the last few days."
"If you want to call being captured and tortured an adventure, sure," Seifer said.
Cid blinked at him. "Of course, of course, it must have been horrific for you. Zell wasn't able to tell us how you were captured. He says he saw nothing as you ordered him to get the politician's family out of the building. You do remember how you were captured, yes?"
Seifer tried not to look at the faculty member standing by the door. "Stop spell. They surprised me with it while I was looking for them."
Cid raised an eyebrow. "Zell seemed to think they weren't in the building, simply shooting in the fire starters."
"There's a reason Zell wasn't the squad leader," Seifer said, even though he had thought the same thing. "I didn't share that mission objective with him as specified in the report. I ordered him out so I could look for them. Mission objectives for myself were to assist Zell in protecting the family, but overall to attempt to capture the people responsible for stalking them. Is that correct, sir?"
Cid nodded. "Yes, I admit it is disappointing that they were not apprehended, but the family is safe in Esthar now, so that's no matter." Seifer barely caught the swift look Cid gave the faculty member standing beside him, but it was there. "This is very disappointing, you see, as it means Zell broke two orders."
Seifer stared, and then felt like an idiot, because of course. Even as he realized what Cid was saying, he kept a straight face. "Excuse me?"
Cid rubbed his hands together. "As squad leader, if you ordered him to leave, he should have departed with the family. However, he didn't and went back for you. When he contacted us a few hours after your capture, we ordered him back to Garden." Cid looked at Seifer expectantly.
Seifer was trapped. Zell or himself, and it was the lifeblood of Garden thrumming under him now, what everything was built on, and he had to choose whether to correct Cid's misunderstanding or not.
"He didn't return to Garden," Seifer said, and Cid nodded even though it hadn't been a question.
"No, he refused and a team was dispatched, but of course, that's Zell's private matter as he was acting under new orders," Cid said. "I'm interested in the exact orders you gave him."
Seifer wanted to ask him what was so important about how he had ordered Zell out. He had already shared all the questions he had been asked and that seemed so much more important than the orders he had given. Seifer knew it was surface, knew something else was going on, because Zell's going back in hadn't hurt anyone. However, Seifer knew he hadn't made that call, hadn't sent Zell away as the reports ordered him to if there was an opening. He hadn't thought it would be an issue; Zell was good back-up and the order was stupid, just like Zell had said it was when Seifer had ordered him to take the family to the van. God, it made him sick to his stomach. Sacrifice, he thought, should never be as empty as this.
"I ordered him to leave," Seifer said, "and I didn't tell him he was allowed to return." It was done.
Cid sighed. "As I thought it was. Well, Seifer, you did everything we asked you to. Of course, we'll put you on standby until Dr. Kadowaki agrees you're ready to be back in rotation." He smiled in his fatherly way, and Seifer wanted to punch the faculty member.
"Headmaster, you have one more meeting," he reminded, voice a low rumble, and Seifer wouldn't look at him.
"Oh, right, yes, you're absolutely correct," Cid mumbled and stood, straightening his vest. The faculty member turned and departed as quietly as he had come, but Seifer wouldn't look away from Cid.
"What about Dincht?" Seifer asked, even though it was confidential, another matter entirely.
Cid blinked and looked toward the empty space where the faculty member had stood. "He's agreed to our initial rank reprimand and will be suspended from active duty, for—" Cid smiled brilliantly. "Well, actually, who knows how long he should be restricted from missions. He might need some duties around Garden, now that I think about it."
Seifer wouldn't smile and wouldn't examine the relief he felt, either, because right now it didn't matter. He didn't say anything else and Cid stumbled over an apology and left, leaving Seifer alone in his curtained off area. It was a burn to realize what they had meant him for, all-or-nothing. He didn't believe for a second that anyone but Cid was that confident in his abilities. Seifer had failed to follow the orders given him and had pinned it on Zell, and that was going to be a nightmare when he got better.
"Feeling better?" Dr. Kadowaki peeked in, holding a bowl. "Brought you soup to try. If you can drink this down and feel okay after about thirty minutes, I'll assign you your very own bucket and send you home to deal with your manly pain in private."
Seifer raised an eyebrow. "I'm just barely dealing with it."
"I imagine you are," Dr. Kadowaki said. "Nice try. I know your tricks, and I'll be cutting you off in a few days." She stared at him as he ate the broth, simple beef with barely any flavor, and Seifer decided that if he could help it, no one would ever cast that particular spell on him ever again.
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It was a whirlwind of spells, then questions, more spells, a little bit stronger, questions. Then they would heal him with Holy Water. Not Esuna, Seifer thought dully, his mind terrifyingly clear now, because Esuna felt better and relieved more but left marks that took weeks to fade after prolonged exposure to the spell. They were going to kill him and they didn't want anyone to know how they did it, he knew. It was a sick cycle, mixed with hours—he assumed, but maybe days—alone in the dark or the light.
They dumped water down his throat each time they came, choking him, but he almost didn't care because the acrid taste of himself was always present. He didn't bother trying to vomit up anything that wasn't there. It wasn't his stomach with something bad in it, it was him. He had given an almost idle thought to his training, and didn't remember anything—maybe they hadn't covered this spell, or maybe no one had been kept under it's magic for very long so there was no information to cover. He wondered how long it would take for his organs to start rotting. He knew his skin had started and stopped as well; he could feel the itchy regenerated patches all over his body as well as itchy, numb places that were anything but.
Seifer had heard of it being done in his training, his instructor had sounded serious when he spoke of it, but Seifer hadn't cared. He cared after they left him without the relief of Holy Water the eighth—or maybe ninth, tenth, Seifer wasn't sure anymore—round of interrogation on the far side of the room where the slow drip he had heard initially had come from. He had long ago lost the ability to move. They had tied him up with rope so he wouldn't thrash so much, and as he laid there as drop of water crashed into his neck every few minutes, he wondered if they had meant for this to happen, or if it was just a bonus.
He must've slept, or passed out, and woke to the stinging on the back of his neck as the door crashed open in the dark.
"He's awake!" A man this time, one Seifer didn't recognize. "Well, it's your lucky day! You get to go on a little vacation!"
Seifer didn't respond, just stared at him in the dark. Even if it had been light, Seifer wouldn't have been able to see clearly. His eyesight was fading, told by the sticky feeling when he opened and closed his eyes. He had also stopped saying anything three—maybe four—rounds ago. He figured he made enough noise when he was screaming—why waste?
"Aww, is the poor little SeeD mad at us?" There was a sharp metallic sound, and then Seifer buzzed with a low-level thunder spell that felt like nothing. If anything scared him, it was two things: the fact that he was going to die and the fact that some spells didn't even faze him anymore. He was surprised when he was rolled—a stretcher of some sorts—and lifted.
The taste of home was as sharp as the restraints cutting into his skin as they tossed him on top of the gurney, the sound familiar and loud. Seifer had cried from the pain a lot of the last few days, if that's what it was, since pain seemed such an understatement now. Not for the first time he thought of Garden, and the infirmary there, halls he had grown up in, and he couldn't even wipe his face. He waited for the cutting remarks, suddenly angry, and wanted the bastards to say something to him. He didn't need their pity.
It never came. They gurney bounced over rough floors, down a long hallway and into another room. When a door clanged shut behind them, another opened ahead, and Seifer got evidence of his failing eyesight as the men pushed the gurney into a bright, circular room, and closed the door behind him. His eyes took a long time to adjust to the light—natural light from the windows in the ceiling, at that—and when they did he was able to look up.
It was the woman. Seifer figured it was the sneer on her face giving her away, which was so pronounced he could see it through the glaze of his eyes. he couldn't tell her age with the blur of his vision, but her features were dark—she wasn't that tall, either. He stared at her, wishing he could see better.
"Seifer Almasy, you have tried my patience," she said. "I actually think we've been pretty understanding up to now. Everyone needs a little time to break, after all. Congratulations on being the first person to make it twelve rounds without cracking." She paused and Seifer felt himself tremble. Twelve rounds—it seemed unbelieveable, but there it was. He blinked at her, trying to bring her more into focus.
"Nothing to say, huh?" She shrugged. "Yeah, your other two buddies didn't make it. They made it about two and then twittered like baby birds. So the secret's out, my friend."
The anger that bubbled up was surprising, because his mind went to Zell first, and he could so easily see his blade slicing right through her smug face. Then he stopped and breathed and caught her words—two. There had been four of them, and Zell had been gone. If she had two she had to mean the SeeDs outside.
"You're full of shit," he said, ignoring that his tongue was swollen and made him want to gag. She stalked toward him. He was prepared for a blow, but instead she kicked the gurney out from under him. He hit the ground hard, stones and broken glass on the floor digging into his side. Pain shot up his arm from his wrist. He wouldn't give in to this. No writhing, no balling up. He managed to roll onto his back and glare up at her.
"You don't get to tell me anything besides what I want to know!" she said. "You won't get many more chances, smartass, for you to confirm their information."
Seifer snorted. "They didn't know shit."
She growled—there was no other word for it—and the cure spell she hit him with had him retching and crying out, rolling into the curved wall. "You're no use to us, SeeD," she said. "You take up space, you weren't even that pretty to look at to begin with, and you're lying to me." She was angry, stomping toward him and hauling him up by the plastic restraints on his wrists to hang them over a hook in the wall. The pain made him woozy, made him want to pass out, but he was able to put his back flat against the wall even as she kicked him. He hissed through each one and thought about anything else, training on the beach, beating Zell in hand-to-hand, the coolness of the breeze off the ocean.
"You're one tough nut," she said, breath heavy, and Seifer marveled at that. Out of shape service people that couldn't even torture without getting tired were great people to be killed by. It made laughter bubble up in his throat, but he kept his mouth shut.
"I'm bored of you, really." She stood and smiled as the door he had entered through opened and two men in masks walked in. Seifer watched them, their heads a blur of black.
"Got the box?" She sounded smug again.
"Right here, boss lady," one of them replied, and Seifer watched him throw the box down on the floor.
"Give him one more chance and then do it," she said. "I'm sick of this." She didn't even bother looking back at Seifer, just left and shut the door behind her, a clang of finality. Seifer had a feeling he wouldn't be seeing her again as yet another sickly sweet Cure spell washed over him.
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"You're a moron, Almasy." Seifer opened his eyes to see Zell above him, frowning down.
"Don't worry, I won't try to steal your claim to fame," Seifer said. He felt the rush of air from the wall vents sweeping along his side. He hurt in a hundred different places from sitting on the floor. He vaguely remembered how he had gotten there; the walk back to his room from the infirmary was painfully clear, until somewhere around his door, interspersed with thoughts of warm water. It was gone, all fuzzy memories blurred by the pain of walking so far, when it really wasn't that far at all. He hated feeling like this.
"Why do you have to be such a jerk?" Zell asked, crouching down. "The doc said to come back here and rest, why'd you have to go and be all macho and prove you could hop back into things? Why the hell are you sitting against your wall, anyway?"
"Shower," Seifer said. It had been an idle thought on his way home. Apparently he hadn't made it.
"I'll let you know when you stink, man, I think I'm like, the expert now." Zell smirked. "Can you get up? There's a chair to sit in so you don't fall over."
It wasn't easy work getting up, harder than it had been in the Infirmary, but at least he didn't feel like throwing up this time. The chair was all hard angles on his side, and he closed his eyes and listened to Zell move around in his room.
"Drink this." Zell shoved a cup of water and two pills into his hands.
"Why are you here?" Seifer took the medicine quickly, hoping it didn't try to come back up after all the exercise.
"I'm here because you know how to take care of yourself pretty much as well as I know how to knit," Zell said, jerking the cup out of his hands and stomping around like he did when he was really frustrated. "And you busted out of the Infirmary before I could get back to sign off on your report, and by the way, you're a lying son of a bitch and you owe me money for the three ranks I'm gonna lose instead of one. What the hell were you thinking?"
Even in the dim light of his room, Seifer could see Zell's eyes accusing him.
"You're an asshole, Seifer," Zell said, but it had no heat, and it was like mixing memories; Seifer knew the tone from years ago. Seifer sat in his chair and looked down at the floor, sore and tired and too worn out to fight this battle. His ankle hurt, his wrist was throbbing and he felt sick again.
"You're right," Seifer said. "So you saved me and became the big martyred hero. Cry me a river. Why are you here, Dincht, do you want a medal?" It didn't have the bite, because Zell was the hero, orders ignored and a life saved and Seifer would eventually be the one to feel the heat from the powers that be for not keeping control of his squad, for the deaths of two of them. It would be harsh as always for a squad leader even without reprimands or pay cuts, broken or no.
It was a surprise when he felt cool hands on his bare shoulders and it registered that he had rarely seen Zell without his gloves. They were a part of him; they were an extension that was never missing in Seifer's mind. He didn't look up or move, because he didn't want to fight.
"You moron, I won't ever leave you behind." Zell whispered it, like a secret, and he was kneeling so he could look Seifer in the eyes. "You're such a fucking jerk. Do you understand me? I won't ever leave you behind." Bare hands weren't still now, smoothing over his shoulders and bruises and scars. It felt fantastic and painful all at the same time. "I can't believe you, you bastard. You laid there and told them that. How could you think I would do it even if it was an order?"
"It's what we're trained for, following orders," Seifer said, thinking back to his mission objectives. Not for the first time he hated Garden, hated being a SeeD, hated every shitty thing except the person in front of him.
"They're just stupid rules," Zell said. "You told me they don't matter sometimes, remember? I'll break them again if I have to."
"You should have followed orders," Seifer said, eyes closed. "You should have left me behind."
"You should give me all your hot dogs at lunch because I never get any, but you don't," Zell said. "You have a sick idea of wish fulfillment, Seifer."
"You have no idea," Seifer laughed and then winced, ribs protesting.
It was so quick he didn't know it was coming. Zell slid under his arm and was pulling him up, being careful of the places that were the sorest. Seifer got the picture and knew struggling would probably be just about effective as slamming his head against the wall—he'd done enough of that, too—so he went with it, letting Zell help him to his bed. Seifer marveled a little because Zell was good at this, taking care. There was no bumbling now and he hadn't really seen that part of Zell in over a week. It was strange to be laid down and petted and tucked in by hands that less than three days before had killed. Hands that had killed for him were comforting him and it was surreal and reassuring.
"These aren't my sheets," Seifer said, the chill of the material like heaven, under and over him, and he didn't care that Zell's hands stayed a little too long as he buried him under his blanket.
Zell sat on the edge of the bed. "Nah, yours were lame, I tossed them and Ma let me have these for you. They're the good kind they make in Winhill. That's a new pillow too, it has chocobo feathers. Isn't that neat?" He sounded so proud and shy at the same time. It was so stupidly sweet, Seifer knew, that Zell had broken into his room to give him new bedding.
"I like them," he said. His eyes were so heavy and he knew the medication he had taken would be kicking in soon. "Thanks."
Zell nodded and slid into the floor beside the bed. "Sleep now. You'll feel better when you wake up!"
Seifer watched him for a minute. "Not leaving?"
Zell's eyes were annoyed. "No, ungrateful jerk, I'm not! I would totally never pass up a chance to be in the same room with Seifer Almasy and silence. I have lots of Combat King to read, too, since I've not been able to read the last few issues and there was this interesting article..." He trailed off and breathed out quickly. "Anyway, you might need something." He frowned. "Cause I really don't think you want to be acting all ungrateful now, I'll owe you a broken nose for when you get better!"
Seifer just shook his head. "It's fine if you stay." He wanted Zell to stay, and that was a scary thought, terrifying in its depth, but comforting in the way that Seifer knew Zell would be still be there when he woke up. He drifted to sleep with the rustle of the magazine and the familiar brush of Zell's arm on his side as he turned the pages.
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"He knows what it is," one of the men said as Seifer came back around, eyes burning, skin burning, like a fire spell gone wrong.
"You used to be pretty," the other said, laughing, "not anymore with your skin hanging around like that. After this little baby that'll be all over. Last chance, son." Seifer didn't respond. Potions and Cure and Phoenix Downs, he thought, fucking Phoenix Downs, what a lame way to die. He kept his eyes closed, and wanted it to be fast, prayed it would be.
"You hear that?" one of the men paused and Seifer heard the metal of a gun leaving a holster, followed by yet another, larger gun.
"What the hell?" The thug that had been casting Cure on him walked away. The room was big—Seifer figured it used to be some sort of shower, as there were drains everywhere and a cracked concrete circle in the middle of the room; maybe a spa. "Someone's fucking knocking. We told them we'd toss the body out for pickup when we were through."
"That's not knocking, you idiot." The man closest to Seifer spoke again, but his sentence was lost of the explosion of heat as the door flew in, rushing with hot air and fire, and oh, Seifer recognized this, wanted to cry out in relief, in thanks. He wanted to hug the stupid kid, even as he flew in through the opening in the wall and into the cloud he had created. Seifer couldn't see him, eyes blurry and smoke making it worse. The first gunshot hit stone and bounced, a strangled scream followed, but it wasn't Zell's voice.
It didn't take long for the smoke to start clearing, and Seifer had watched Zell fight, knew he was good. He could hear bones crack but Zell wasn't killing them and he started shaking, terrified and hopeful. Seifer watched Zell move in a blur, the kid he had always teased for being too short using it now to slide and dance around the men with the guns. But Seifer knew Zell couldn't dodge bullets no matter how fast he was and he didn't want to watch, couldn't watch it happen, the last way out taken away.
But he didn't have to watch Zell die, didn't have to watch anything but quick fists and two very dead bodies falling to the floor, and it was quick knowledge that Zell had been playing with them, breaking them before he killed them, and he was so fucking proud. Zell stood between the corpses breathing out heavily, fists still extended, eyes on Seifer's.
"Took you long enough," Seifer said, and he didn't care that his voice cracked.
"Yeah, sorry," Zell said as he headed toward him. "There were only like a zillion guards to get through! You had to get kidnapped by the smart criminals, you and your fucking high standards." He was tugging on the plastic that bound Seifer's wrists together above him, and it fucking hurt. Seifer knew his left wrist was wrecked.
"Sorry, sorry," Zell said, even though Seifer hadn't made a sound—he was beyond vocalizing the pain. "You look like shit, Seifer."
"Good thing you're looking pretty for the both of us. Glad to know your hair can handle it," Seifer said, his head falling back on the wall, eyes closing. Zell was right above him, shirt brushing his cheek. He smelled like fresh air and the soap they had both used a few nights ago, and it was such a relief Seifer had to blink away moronic tears. He wasn't going to die here. Zell had come.
"Yeah, keep making cracks about my hair, at least I don't have lice like you probably do," Zell said, annoyed as the ties came loose, peeling away from his wrists with skin and dried blood . Seifer could feel trails running down his arms as Zell lowered his arms gently, and even then it still hurt like a bitch. Seifer grimaced through every inch.
"Oh, fuck," Zell said, voice low, and Seifer was glad Zell had picked up on it, glad he didn't have to explain because he never wanted to. "How long?"
"I don't know how long I've been here."
"Four days," Zell said, and the whisper of his voice and the burning of Esuna felt like the best thing ever, even though he knew it wouldn't solve things, knew it wasn't over yet. "And by the way, you lost the bet and owe me ten thousand gil. Bet you'll back out, though."
"Fuck you," Seifer said, "I want proof."
"If you hadn't gotten yourself all caught by the bad guys, you would've been able to see it with me as I laughed in your face," Zell said. Seifer closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the stone wall as Zell cast spell after spell, Cure doing its proper job now, chattering about the awesome comeback of his chosen card player. None of it registered, names, rules, cards used, like a buzzing around the edges, but not the bad kind. Seifer wasn't going to get a phobia over noises after this mess. Before he could even consider it, his grip on gravity shifted, a bolt of pain right down his spine and he jerked his head up to meet Zell's eyes.
"What the hell was that?" It was too much like whining, but Seifer didn't care.
"I'll slap you again, Miss Priss, just try me." Zell sounded pissed. "I don't get to nap and you better believe I deserve one, too! So since I don't, neither do you. Eyes open."
Seifer was too tired and dizzy to respond, so he watched Zell wrapping the injuries with bandages from his pocket. No more magic, no more items. Zell wasn't going to touch them now that Seifer had almost passed out on him. It was the double-edged sword of it all, Seifer thought, not being strong enough for them to work and even though his eyes were burning with all the disturbed sleep he had gotten and the sleep he hadn't, he kept his eyes open.
"How?" Seifer asked.
Zell shrugged as he casually ripped Seifer's pants leg open. The jarring Zell was doing just to wrap up a cut was making Seifer nauseous, so he took deep breaths that hurt and promised himself he'd slap the kid around later for paying attention in his classes. "You got lifted, I didn't see. The higher ups are real interested in knowing how the fucking squad leader let himself get captured."
"Did they—?" He almost hadn't asked, didn't want to care, and had always cared.
"Yeah, they got out. I'm sure they're tucked back in Esthar or whatever, having tea with something, you know, dainty. Building didn't make it, but the carpets were ugly, anyway, right?" Zell sat back. "You still look like ass, but I guess it's better than dead."
"Once again, you wow me with your wit," Seifer winced as he moved, tried to sit up, but failed, breath rushing out of him, making tiny explosions of pain everywhere as he crashed down one pathetic inch.
"Yeah, that was your best plan yet, man." Zell's amused tone gave way to worry, and his voice grew quiet. "You still feel your legs, right?"
"Yeah, sort of," Seifer grumbled, and he was put out over the idiocy of it all. "Maybe I'll be able to walk—"
"Right, just shut up, you think I'm dumb?" Zell rolled his eyes.
"Now that you mention it..."
"Ugh, and even as a fucking zombie you're a smartass. Just my luck that part didn't rot out." Zell stood and bit his lip the way he did when he was thinking about doing something Seifer really, really didn't like.
"Why are we staying here?" Seifer asked. "Are you alone?"
Zell scratched his head and smiled. "I'm glad you're alive, I guess, but you're going to be so pissed when you wake up," he said. Seifer finally noticed he looked haggard, worn down and his hands were shaking, which meant he hadn't eaten recently.
Seifer closed his eyes and hung his head, too tired for this vague word dance Zell like to sweep him up into. "What the hell are you talking about, I'm not going to sle—"
