Author's Note: Yes, I am deliberately exaggerating Seifer’s bad speech patters here; that boy needs to learn some damn grammar! It’s shit-annoying to write too (not to mention read), hence it doesn’t appear anywhere else. Bad English is really, really not designed to be written out. Just use your imagination to hear him talk like this all the time... Note also that I’ve avoided using ‘ya’ wherever possible because a) I hate it, and b) it’s not quite the right sound. So instead I’ve used y’, sometimes as a prefix to another word. Pronounce it by thinking of the ‘y’ in ‘y’know’ or ‘y’all’.

Feedback: This is my first major fanfic (I’m not really a fanfic writin’ kinda gal) and the longest single coherent piece I’ve ever wirtten, so be nice...

DISCLAIMER: Characters of Final Fantasy VIII are the property of Squaresoft. Don’t sue.

Futureloop

Chapter Five - When Squally Met Sei-Sei

By Devi Dee

I only ever had one dream. Well, asides from that whole Ellone thing, but that wasn’t exactly my fault.

It was a desert, and it was night. Always night. When the dream began it would be sunset, and by the time it ended that same strange cold sun would be rising again on the opposite horizon. No matter which way I turned, I’d always be walking away from that sunset, into the sunrise. Life’s destination for me.

At first, I was alone. And that puzzled me. How I’d wake up in a different place than I’d left, and there’d be tracks behind me. Big tracks; not the sort of tracks left by a four year old boy. And next to them, a thin line in the dust, like someone dragging something thin and sharp. I cried a lot then, alone in the strange desert. Lost and cold.

I’d been having the dreams for about six months when he arrived. I don’t know how, just one moment I was alone, then the next I heard a voice I didn’t recognise scream my name. I’d investigated, and found him standing there, shouting things that would have sent Matron into a faint. He was agitated, disorientated, flailing around in the dust, and swinging a huge and vicious-looking weapon, sort of a sword but different somehow. And then he saw me, and he stopped. For a moment he just stood there, gaping at me, then he’d managed to croak, ... the hell?

He’d walked up to me and I admit I’d been afraid of this loud new giant. At least, until he dropped down on one knee to bring our eyes level, and smiled. A really, big, warm smile which had made my head spin most strangely. I noticed he had a vicious-looking scar running down between his eyes. I’d never seen anyone with a scar before. I wondered how he got it.

Hey Squall, he’d said warmly. His voice, now devoid of all it previous agitation, was deep and beautiful; a rumble which started in his chest and travelled through the air and down to the very tips of my tiny toes. Stuck ‘n a desert, huh? This seemed to amuse him, and his eyes - not quite green and not quite blue - glittered mischievously.

I was enraptured. He was amazing.

C’mon, le’ssee if we can’t get’cha outta here. He began walking off, not looking back to see if I followed, just expecting that I would. And of course I did; I scrambled as fast as my small legs would carry me in order to keep up with his big strides, too proud to ask him to slow down. He noticed me struggling to keep up and, before I could protest, swept me up in one strong movement and deposited me on his shoulders. I wound my fingers into his sun-blonde hair, growing slightly too long for his face so he had it pulled back in a small ponytail, except for a single wayward piece at the front.

He walked us across the desert, long strides carrying us further than I could have ever hoped to scramble, dragging that strange weapon of his in the dust behind us. Leaving a long, thin line in its wake.

I found it unusual that he didn’t try to say anything. The first thing most people ever wanted to do to me was ask questions, lots and lots of questions which I never wanted to answer, until they got frustrated and went away. He didn’t ask any questions, which reminded me a little of Matron. But while Matron didn’t ask because she knew I wouldn’t answer, he didn’t ask because - or so it seemed - he already knew what I would say.

The first night we just walked in silence. The day after was the longest I’d ever spent in my entire life, and for the first time I wanted to get back to sleep as soon as possible, to get back to the desert to see if he was still there. I was also deathly afraid he wouldn’t be.

But he was. He was studying the tracks when I arrived, and I noticed that where his were now big they had been small, and vice versa. He seemed very interested in the big tracks - the ones which faded into my own.

Damn, why does freaky shit like this always hafta happen to me? His speech was strange and broken; all curses and slang and bad grammar. It was also familiar somehow. He noticed when I appeared beside him. Evenin’ sleepyhead. Ready fer another day’s walk?

I nodded, I don’t think I could have found the voice to reply.

See now this is interestin’, he pointed to the tracks. Looks like y’ get big in th’ day and I get lil’. Which is prolly why I can only remember th’ nights. He dropped down on one knee to study the footprints in the not-quite-dark half light. Despite it being night time, the big moon made it quite easy to see everything. See here how yer tracks get big? You get buckles under yer boots. He grinned again, sharing some private joke.

So... I’d asked, speaking to him for the first time. I thought he might take offence at my tone, but he didn’t. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, but that was just how I spoke, and I didn’t yet trust my mouth to be able to say anything longer to him.

Well, ‘sa good sign, he explained. There’s only one guy I know who’d put belts ‘round his damn shoes, an’ he’s the one I’m lookin’ to find.

Looking to find? He was looking for someone? Someone who wasn’t me? A strange disappointment threatened to creep in at the corners of my heart. He wasn’t here for me...

He seemed to notice my disappointment. Dun worry, he said. I ain’t gonna leave ya. He gave me another disarming smile.

Who... who are you looking for? I managed to squeak, angry at how small and fragile my voice sounded.

Heh, he’s this scary, cold-ass bastard. A little shorter than me, got this real girly hair and always wears too much leather - even when it’s real hot-like. Has like about ten belts, carries one’a these - he tapped the strange sword-thing - and’s got a scar, like mine but goin’ the other way. He drew a line down his forehead to illustrate. Despite the insults, his voice was still warm, belying a kind of deep affection. I suddenly found myself wishing someone would talk about me like that.

What’s his name? I asked.

The man grinned. Leonhart, he said. Squall Leonhart.

My eyes widened. That’s... that’s my name...

No shit, well there y’ go. ‘Cept this guy’s a bit older’n you, kinda taller too, but... hey, you do look kinda like him. Got the right hair, he ruffled his hand through it to emphasise. Normally, I would have gotten upset at someone calling me ‘girly’, but coming from him, I didn’t mind. Not if he kept smiling at me in that beautiful way.

Who are you? I asked him.

Me? I’m just a guy wit’ a habit a’ gettin’ in over my head. Name’s Almasy, Seifer Almasy.

I gasped and took a step back. He didn’t seem surprised. There’s a kid at the orphanage called that, I told him. Suddenly I knew where I’d heard his speech-patterns before; Matron was always getting upset at Seifer for bad grammar.

No shit, he said again. Guess I must be him, hey?

I narrowed my eyes at him. The Seifer I know always picks on me, I told him. This Seifer was a lot bigger than the one I was used to, and I was still very small, but... I figured I could take him. Maybe.

He looked sort of sad when I said that. I know, he said. And he’s sorry. He likes y’, y’know.

This was indeed news to me. Then why does he hit me?

So you’ll pay attention to him, o’course.

Of course. It was exactly the same thing Matron had told me, but coming from her it had sounded somehow less credible.

We just stared at each other for a little while longer, until finally he looked up in the sky. Aw shit, ‘s gettin’ late. We’d better get movin’ again. He stood and extended a hand to me. Comin’?

I reached for him, and he picked me up gently. Once again I found myself sitting on his broad shoulders. I considered protesting, but decided against it. It was nice up here, and it felt good to not have to walk myself.

We were quiet for the rest of the night, until - right before sunrise - he set me down and began scratching something in the dirt with the tip of his long weapon. I studied it for a minute, and my eyes gradually recognised the letters. Matron had recently started trying to teach us to read and had done the sensible thing by getting us to start with our names. Which is why, when he scrawled the letters into the dirt, I recognised them.

SQUALL?

The next evening, he got a reply, written in tiny, tight printing. I studied it for a long time, picking out the letters I could recognise, trying to form words. Eventually, I gave up and asked, "What does it say?"

"Huh? Oh, right," it dawned on him that I probably couldn’t read yet, so he crouched down besides me. "How much can y’read?"

"My name," I admitted, blushing. "Some other letters."

He grinned. "Matron teachin’ ya?"

I nodded.

"She ‘sa good teacher," he said, then pulled a face. "I hated learnin’ t’ read."

I knew this; assuming he really was the same Seifer I knew during the day. The real-world Seifer was two years older than I was, but he still couldn’t read. He went to amazing pains to avoid learning, as well.

"But ‘s good y’can read y’name," he was continuing. "That’s, what, five letters? An’ look, we’ve got a few of ‘em in here" - he pointed to the message - "as well. Wanna try readin’ some fer me?"

I nodded again, turning my eyes back to the message, trying to work out the curvy characters. "Ess. Ee. Eye..." I began, slowly forming the sounds. The next one stumped me. I tugged on the dream-Seifer’s sleeve, pointing quizzically.

"That? ‘Sa dash," he explained. "’S not a letter, so y’don’t have to say it."

"Oh," I said, wondering what the point was. I continued, realising the next three letters were the same as the first three. "Ss-ah-ii ss-ah-ii," I sounded, the word sounding strange, I looked at Seifer for confirmation.

"Uh-huh," he grinned. "‘Sei-Sei’; that’s me." He pronounced it slightly differently that I had; like the first syllable of his name.

I pulled a face, trying to imagine applying the strange pet-name to the both the man beside me and the boy I knew. Neither fitted very well; and I suspected that calling the real-world Seifer ‘Sei-Sei’ was just inviting a beating.

He poked his tongue out at me. "Don’ look like that; you’re th’ one who came up wit’ it." He pointed at the writing. "Thass your handwritin’. The big you, anyway."

"Oh," I said. Well, at least that meant that, eventually, I would learn to read and write properly. And my handwriting was better than Matron’s.

We continued to read the message together, me sounding out the letters I knew and him filling in for the words I didn’t. Eventually, we finished the whole note, the letters spelling out;

Sei-Sei? I don’t know if you remember, but this is a dream I (we?) had as a kid. Only last time I remember it being dark, and you were old. Reversal? Do you have me as a kid with you? I’ve got a 6-year-old you; he’s a brat. Grow up. - Squall

I giggled a bit at the last part, earning myself another smirk and a hand ruffled affectionately through my hair. We resumed walking a little after that, me sitting on Seifer’s broad shoulders again. I wondered vaguely if the older version of me did the same thing for the young Seifer. The thought was slightly odd, and I asked the dream-Seifer about it.

"Y’did," he said. "Eventually, when I finally let’cha. Like I said, you’re a scary bastard when you’re older, an’ you freaked the crap outta me f’the first few days. So I got all defensive, but it wore off. Then I started likin’ ya. Y’was tough, an’ I wanted t’be tough, too. ‘S why I started learnin’ this," he hefted his strange weapon to show me. "’Cus you had one."

I watched the half-light glint of the strange blade. "What is it?" I asked eventually.

"Hyperion," he said. "A gunblade." He sounded strange when he said it, affectionate, but sad at the same time. The blade looked very deadly. I wondered what he’d done with it to make him so sad. I suddenly found I didn’t really want to know, instead tightening my grip in his hair, nuzzling closer to his scalp.

I spent the rest of the day there, just enjoying the gentle rocking motion of his long strides. Eventually I started yawning which, I knew by then, meant that I was about to wake up in the real world. Odd, but true. He put me down gently and began to drag Hyperion through the dirt again.

He noticed my quizzical gaze, once again answering my question before I had need to voice it.

"I’m writin’ you a reply," he said. "I couldn’t write it earlier, ‘cause of us movin’, but if I leave it here, y’should get it."

He asked me if I’d like to know what it said, and I nodded eagerly; liking the idea of being able to hear his voice again. He did so, pointing to the words as he went along so I could follow. I noted that, when he read, he spoke properly; dropping his usual, broken slang. I found it odd, but didn’t dwell too long on it, instead listening intently as he intoned the words he’d written;

I know; I remember. Sorry, I just need to get used to you; you freaked me out at first [grins]. Well, I guess we keep walking, huh? Wonder if we’ll be stuck in here for another fourteen (??) years (groan groan).

I was about to ask him more about it when the first rays of light broke over the edge of the horizon. I yawned again, eyes drooping shut, and when I next opened them, I was back in the orphanage. To my surprise, I found myself staring straight at the aqua orbs of the boy in the bed next to mine. He furrowed his brow, and I realised we must have both woken up at the same time.

For a while it looked like he was going to speak, to ask me about the desert perhaps. Finally, he just growled, "’Chu starin’ at?"

I ignored him and rolled over, something like disappointment growing in my belly. Well, if he wasn’t going to say anything, then neither was I.

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful, bar one occurrence; for the first time Seifer actually paid attention when Matron tried to teach us to write. I studied him quizzically, but didn’t say anything, and neither did anyone else since nobody was particularly fond of winding up with his fist in their face.

When I finally got back to the desert, I found Seifer’s older self waiting for me. There were more words written in the dirt, but I didn’t ask to read them, instead studying the thing he was turning over and over in his hands. It was silver, glinting and clicking gently in the light. When he noticed I was awake he crouched down next to me, placing the silver thing around my neck. It was too big for me, and very heavy. I studied it, intently; some kind of chain, with a monster dangling off the end.

"What is it?"

"Present fer ya, from yer older self," he explained. He tapped the monster. "’is name’s Griever. Be good to ‘im, ‘cause ‘e ’sa cranky bastard."

I just turned it over and over in my hands. Nobody had ever given me something so beautiful before, and it was hard for me to believe. I suddenly felt very, very sad in a way which I couldn’t quite describe.

"Thank you," I finally managed to whisper. I wiped a tear from my eye, angrily. What would he say if he saw me standing here stupidly, crying like a girl?

He didn’t say anything, instead gathering me up in long, powerful arms. I gasped, unused to being held; but relaxed almost immediately. The contact felt good, and I snuggled against him, wrapping myself in his warmth and slightly spicy smell.

And that, more or less, was how I first fell in love with Seifer Almasy.

End Notes: Aaawww, wasn’t that cute? (makes retching motions) Don’t’cha just love a good temporal paradox; Squall got his trademark pendant from... himself. Woo! No prizes for guessing where Sei got his choker from... "But wait!" you fail to cry, "it’s just a dream... isn’t it?" Nay, fair readers, this has been the first actual chapter of (gasp) plot! More on this saccharine-sweet and slightly twisted relationship later, for now we should go back to the Present Day; which means no more writing in ba-aa-aa-aa-ad speech patterns. I think it’s time for some Violence after that tooth-rotting little display, don’t’ you? Hey, if I’m good I can even get the rest of this chapter to Amy before she updates Noire Sensus... I hate incomplete things.

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