Disclaimer: The characters, location and so forth of Final Fantasy VIII obviously don't belong to me and are in fact the property of Squaresoft. Sueing me is pointless, since I'm a poor law student.

Futureloop

Chapter Eight - Workplace Relationships Are Always Doomed

By Devi Dee

Seifer rolled out of bed the next day at around eleven, cursing himself for sleeping late; the twinge of last night’s almost-hangover threatening to invade his skull. He’d lain awake for a long time, just thinking. He had a lot to think about

(you know something, don’t you?)

as he figured out what his next move would be. Eventually he’d decided to get settled in before stirring up the ghosts of old grievances, and so set about making himself look presentable for the Commander. His mind flicked back to last night – well, earlier this morning, really – when they’d realised they were alone. There had been a flicker of something, a high-wire tension that had come dangerously close to snapping. He’d almost been expecting to wake up this morning to find that Squall had slipped in during the night to curl up gently against him, and had even managed to be a little disappointed when he hadn’t. At any rate, the fact now seemed indisputable; Squall Leonhart was hitting on him. Not only that, but his friends were encouraging it. Theoretically, Seifer thought that he should have jumped the chance as soon as it was presented – it was, after all, what he’d always wanted. So then why did he feel so uncertain? And it wasn’t that he was just worried about getting another beating either, though that was certainly part of it. Perhaps it was just the utter strangeness of the situation; one in which he was suddenly no longer the aggressor. He sighed, deciding there was no use sitting around angsting about it; what happened would happen, and he’d just have to clean up any fallout. As usual.

He opened his door and almost stepped on a plate of croissants left there, a small note sitting on the top reading;

Seifie,

We thought you’d be hungry, so we saved you these. Long night, huh? [wink wink]

Luv, Seffie and the Gang

Great, now even my breakfast is making suggestive comments at me.

“So when do I start?”

“Today, if you’d gotten up earlier.” I still didn’t look up. “So now we’ll just have to settle for tomorrow. You’ll be taking regular final-year classes until we get another opening for a field exam. After that, you’re on your own. If you fail, that’s it; no more chances.” It wasn’t the most ideal situation, but it was the best I could worm through. Besides, the added pressure might do him some good.

He just sort of snorted in agreement, but didn’t get up to leave.

“Is there something else?” I asked, hoping there was.

“Yes. But I dunno what it is yet. I was hopin’ you could fill me in, y’know. If y’d be so kind.” He was dropping ‘g’s; getting defensive. I flinched, not intending to get that as a reaction, but not really expecting anything else.

I turned my eyes to meet his; he seemed quizzical, hopeful and maybe even a little afraid. Waiting for me to say something. Well, I never had been very good at speeches, so I just chewed my bottom lip a little. He shifted slightly, and the room changed atmospheres. He caught it, caught me watching him, and seemed to turn something over in his head. Then, suddenly, blurted out, “If I kiss you will you hit me?”

That frightened me a little. “Why don’t you try it?”

“Because I just got out of a fuckin’ coma from the last time I tried.” He paused for a bit, then added a little more quietly. “And I’m too old for this.”

A twinge of sadness and guilt flicked through my stomach

(did you ever, in fact, stop to ask him what he wanted at all? ever?)

and I stood up suddenly, walking over to him like I had the other day. But I didn’t sit this time, instead just stood there between his splayed thighs. We looked at each other for what seemed like an age. You could practically bottle the sexual tension in the room, and I tucked that thought aside for later. A good business venture maybe.

He should have grabbed me, or at least reached, but he didn’t, still very much on the defensive. There was something in his eyes, though, and they churned like the sea.

“Why me?” I asked.

“Because you’re everything I can’t be.” No hesitation at all. “And you’re unattainable.”

I nodded, narrowing my eyes. “And what if we do?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It never occurred to me.”

“Is it worth it?”

“Definitely.”

I took a step back so I was leaning against my desk, slightly out of his reach, doing my best to look inviting and sexy. This was never something I’d tried to do before, and I wasn’t sure how well I was succeeding – I had a suspicious feeling it came off as sulky and defensive. He seemed to catch the sentiment anyway, and rose, closing the distance between us easily, his arms wrapping around my waist. I did the same for him, and his breath hitched.

“Bruises,” he explained.

I shifted my grip so I wasn’t hurting him, nuzzling into his neck in apology, planting small kisses there as I became acutely aware of that fact that I’d never been in this sort of situation before and had absolutely no idea what to do.

He did, though, and I felt him remove his gloves behind my back before lifting a hand to cup one side of my face, turning my eyes up to meet his. He moved his face a little closer so I could feel his breath on my lips, but he hesitated, still not sure of his boundaries. It seemed strange that he should hesitate, but I suppose all past experience had taught him that these encounters tended to wind up in violence. I sighed encouragingly, closing my eyes and parting my lips slightly; offering myself up to him, I suppose, but it was nothing like I’d feared it would be. No shame in this surrender, only warmth.

Warmth as he pressed our bodies closer, sliding in between thighs eagerly spread. I could feel him underneath layers of leather and silk, half-hard already with sheer anticipation. Then again, I wasn’t in a much better state myself. Another kind of warmth filled me as he pressed our lips together, and that’s all it was at first, just a gentle touching of mouths. I pushed closer to him, wanting more and felt the first gentle explorations of a tongue as I leant more against the desk, allowing me to take the weight off my feet and wrap them around his waist. I’d never been so intimate with anyone before in my entire life, so why the hell did this all feel so familiar?

A strange image of a dust-filled twilight briefly flickered through my head, but was instantly gone as I felt him start to gently grind his groin against mine. My breath caught as pleasure filled my abdomen.

“Uuh… Seifer…”

Barely a whisper, but enough to bring myself crashing – albeit briefly – down into the situation. Here I was, Commander of Balamb Garden and official Hero of the Sorceress War, sitting on the edge of my desk allowing myself to be gently and agonizingly explored by Seifer Almasy, Sorceress’ Knight and official Villain of said War. You didn’t read about shit like that. Well, you did, but nowhere reputable.

It was almost enough to make me laugh, but I thought he might take that as a bad sign and I really, really did not want him to stop whatever the hell it was he was doing because it felt good. So I just moaned a little more, leaning back further against the desk, pulling him down with me. I heard papery crashes as various files and folders fell off but for once I didn’t give a flying fuck because his hands had found their way up under my shirt and were playing with my nipples. I gasped as I allowed myself to really feel the pleasure that gave for the first time, wondering how the hell I’d managed to ignore it before. I grunted in irritation and ripped off my shirt and the massacred pair of stocking I was wearing as gloves, throwing them into a pile in the corner and baring my chest to him. He just studied me appreciatively for a while, gently tracing my muscles with his fingers and then

(oh good gods)

tongue.

I made a violent sweeping motion with my arm, sending all the remaining things on my desk crashing to the floor and shifting myself fully onto it, pulling him down with me. This seemed to alarm him briefly, but he soon settled back into his ministrations, tracing his tongue down my belly, settling briefly into my navel before he pulled up again. I watched him, sitting on the desk between my thighs, hands wrapped around my slender waist, thumbs tracing the faint line of hair running down from my navel to below my sharply-spiked belts. Waiting for permission? No, not that; there was something else. Finally he asked.

“You ever done this before?”

“No.” Time for short answers because if he didn’t continue soon I was going to kill him.

“Me neither. So home come I know this” – he gently stroked his nails across my chest, sending shivers down my spine and causing me to gasp – “will make you do that?”

“I dunno, you’re always…” I didn’t really know how to finish, but I think he understood anyway.

“I know, but you’ve never let me get this far before… so home come I know how you like to be fucked?”

(“Then stop talking about it and do it, damnit!”)

He caught the irritation that passed over my face and pressed his lips together in a thin line. He didn’t want to lose the moment any more than I did, but this was bothering him.

“I have… this thing… Maybe a memory, or a dream or something. I don’t really know – the GFs left me pretty mindfucked, and the War didn’t help either – but there’s this place…”

Another flash of an endless wasteland.

“…a desert…” I finished for him, and his eyes widened.

“Yes. How did you…?”

“It’s a dream…” funny how some things you just never think of, but when you do everything all rushes back. Maybe it’s just us. “…I’ve had it since I was little. It’s always dark…”

“Mine’s always light…”

“You’re there,” we both said at the same time, and just looked at each other for a long while after; it was like remembering the orphanage all over again. Only these memories were far more intimate. I remembered strong and gentle hands spreading my thighs, the strange feeling of a foreign but not unwelcome warmth inside me…

I swallowed hard; I’d been fucking Seifer in my dreams ever since I was sixteen and from his expression, I could tell he’d just had the same revelation.

“What does it mean?”

I shrugged. “Does it matter?”

He looked at me, spread half-naked and horny as hell underneath him. He grinned. “Not right now, no.” I nodded and reached up, pulling off his shirt; wincing at the mass of yellowing bruises and old scars left there. He waved my concern off; he’d had worse. “I will be chasing this up later,” he said, matter-o-factly as he unbuckled my belts. “It could be important.”

Important could wait; I wanted to be fucked. I shifted a little, pulling my boots off with my toes as he removed my pants. They followed my shirt in an ungainly heap in the corner, leaving me naked and spilled out over the desk. More fragments of dream flashed back and I arranged myself in a slightly arched way, eyes half lidded, a coy smile playing across my lips. Suddenly this didn’t seem so hard.

It wasn’t fair that I was naked and he wasn’t, so we fixed that quickly and I marvelled at what was looming over me; pleased to note my dream-memories of him were in no way overstated. He was quite an impressive person clothed; naked, he looked amazing. Bruises and all. Without them he must have looked inhuman.

He went to lift my legs but I stopped him, heart melting at the hurt expression. It was awkward, but I managed to reach around the side of my desk to rummage in a draw, tossing him something. He looked at the tube of lubricant and his eyebrow went up.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d been planning this.”

I tried my best not to look too sheepish. “Not me,” I told him honestly and he pulled a face.

“I don’t even want to know.” He spread some of the stuff onto his fingers and my nostrils were assaulted with the smell of crushed berries. Then I completely forgot everything as he slid a finger into me. I expected it to hurt, but it didn’t. I wondered just how real those dreams were; the realisation that maybe they had more than just a passing effect on reality crossing my mind before being blown clean away as he touched something inside me which caused me to stifle a cry. He played with it a little, tracing lazy circles, until I didn’t think I could take any more. A second finger joined the first, then a third, splaying out in a way which was both painful and pleasurable at the same time. I could hardly move, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he continued his explorations, pushing in deeper and harder. I wondered if he was going to try any more fingers; just how deep inside me could he go if he wanted to? Now I was curious, and prepared to experiment then and there, but he had other things in mind.

A small whimper tried to escape me as he pulled his fingers out, but died as I felt him replace them with something else. Something big and hot and hard and suddenly I wasn’t thinking about anything at all, just rocking against him mindlessly as he thrust; hitting that place inside me again, infinitely harder this time, both of us too horny to try anything more teasing.

I was breathing hard as he leant down against me, my legs hooked up over his strong arms, folding me into a position I hadn’t even known I could achieve. I felt his weight shift onto one arm as he reached down to catch my own slick cock between his skilled, almost-virgin fingers. Instantly the pleasure building in me doubled and this time I did cry out, every muscle tensing around him; causing him to emit a similar noise. Oh, right. I tried it a few more times, experimentally clenching interior muscles I felt but couldn’t see and he cried out again. No words, because I didn’t think either of us were together enough to make them, but that was part of the whole experience. We’d been born to do this, and I silently cursed myself for not letting him before now. This was too good, with nothing else in the world asides from his cock in my ass and his hand on my groin and then I was coming, and I could feel it building up, about to break and I think I might have cried.

And then, just as I was about to have the greatest experience of my entire damn life, a scream cut through the office. A high, whiney and altogether too familiar scream punctuated by a loud crash as something metal hit the floor.

“Ohmigawd! Squall!”

Why oh why does shit like this always have to happen to me?

She didn’t know what she was doing or where she was going, only that she had to get away. Had to get away from that office. That office where Seifer was… Seifer was…

Her brain absolutely refused to process it as something consensual; after all, Squall loved her. Okay, so he acted a little cold and detached sometimes – well, all the time really – but he’d saved her life so many times, and they’d been through so much together…

But he had certainly looked like he’d been enjoying himself…

The secretary just sort of looked at her sadly when she passed, and Rinoa was hit but the absolute certainty that she’d known. Even tried to warn her.

(“He’s… uh… busy at the moment. Very important… uh… phone call.”)

(“It’s okay! It’s only me, he’ll understand.”)

She heard her name being cried out as she stepped foot in the lift, could almost make out the blurry outline of Squall’s naked body through the tears spilling over the rims of her eyelids.

(but he loves me)

She didn’t want to hear it, whatever his excuse might have been, it could damn well wait. When the elevator stopped she broke into another run, eyes flatly refusing to see through the well of tears. She hit something hard and it sent her flying.

Strong hands lifted her up. “Oh Hyne, I’m so sorry, ma’am. Are you okay?”

“You have to help me!” she cried at the stranger, barely able to speak through the sobs.

“What’s wrong?”

“It – it’s Squall… oh god! Please… in his office… Seifer…”

Pandemonium erupted. Something had happened to the Commander and the whole Garden would be baying for blood. Better yet, the Sorceress’ Knight had something to do with it, and this was just the excuse people needed. The lift was barely large enough as everyone in the vicinity crammed inside, causing it to groan on its cables. The second the doors opened, Ms Gibson – the Commander’s long-suffering secretary – instantly went into damage control.

“You can’t go in there!”

“What’s happened to the Commander? You know something, don’t you? Why won’t you let us pass? What’re you trying to hide?”

Suddenly, her pay check didn’t seem nearly enough. She swallowed hard. “I…”

“I knew it! She’s in league with the Sorceress! Get her!”

Mob justice descended upon Ms Gibson, who’d only ever tried to do good by her Commander. Fortunately, Heaven favours the loyal.

“What the fuck do you people think you’re doing!”

Everyone stopped and turned, and there was the Commander with the sort of expression that peeled paint and withered plants. He was mad. Worse; he was Royally Pissed Off and looking to take it out on the hides of them all. Nobody had ever seen him angry before. Bored, contemptuous, irritated and icy maybe, but never actually seethingly angry.

He certainly didn’t look like he needed any help. Even if he was only half-dressed, with his hair mussed and a faint flush of afterglow across his cheeks.

Everyone looked to where Seifer Almasy stood behind him, also half dressed and trying very hard to vanish into the carpet. They noted the desk, empty except for what looked like it might have been a sock; all its usual paraphernalia spread out across the floor wildly, intermingled with various articles of clothing. It didn’t take a genius to join the dots.

There’s always one. “But Miss Rinoa – ”

“’But Miss Rinoa’ what…?” came the low growl which left absolutely no question as to where the speaker thought Miss Rinoa could go.

“Um. Nothing.”

“Good…”

“We were just, um, leaving.”

“Excellent.”

Guilty hands helped Ms Gibson rise and straighten herself out. She gave a helpless look at the seething Commander who just waved her off. She sighed; she had done good. And on the bright side, she might even get some kind of bonus out of this whole affair. She went back to her desk, sitting down primly with a decidedly pointed look at the now acutely embarrassed mob. “Hmph. I tried to tell you.”

Everyone turned back to the Commander. He looked slightly less angry but still entirely deadly. “Now get out.”

“Sir!”

The lift creaked again as the mob piled in, trying very hard not to look at anything in particular, acutely aware that they’d all inadvertently been drawn into something which was very much Not Their Business.

Squall watched them leave, his anger finally dispersing when he felt a tentative hand on his shoulder. He sunk against the now-familiar chest, burying himself in its warmth. Finally, his brain began to catch up to events.

“Fuck.”

There really wasn’t anything else to say.

I found her in her room later that day. I didn’t really want to be there, but I’d been receiving icy stares from Quistis ever since she’d heard about the little… incident in the office. They were knowing stares, but icy all the same; like she’d been lurking about waiting for this to happen so she could push me into an apology. I had absolutely no idea where to begin; when it came to things like this I was only ever really good for speaking my mind and I highly doubted that would help in this situation. Hell, I didn’t even know what my mind was right now so I dreaded my attempt to explain it to another. Especially her Most Royal Highness, Princess Rinoa, who thought “sexual tension” was a cute euphemism for a hard on. How could I explain to her in words she understood that Seifer turned me on because he could beat me into the ground without breaking a sweat. She’d think I was crazy – hell, it sounded fucking crazy to me, too – call me a masochist, say I Needed Help. Completely missing the point, of course. The point was not that I actually enjoyed being hurt, but I did like the idea that it was a possibility. If I played my cards right, I could have him eating out of my hand, but if I didn’t then I might end up dead. It was dangerous.

And now there were these dreams. That certainly complicated things, but also offered me a possible avenue of escape. Dreams were something Rinoa could understand. So were strange – if slightly whacked – childhood crushes.

I remembered to keep this in mind when I gently rapped on the door to her room.

“Who is it?” The voice was cracked, broken. She’d been sobbing the whole time.

“Me.” If she didn’t know my voice by now she really was thick.

There was a long pause and I could tell she was thinking of sending me away, then realising that if she did I really would leave, and she would neither get to hear me whining petulantly for forgiveness nor send me on a guilt trip. Not that she would get either, one way or the other; I wasn’t going to let her make me feel guilty over this, of all things.

Finally the door swooshed open and she emerged, staring up at me sadly. She looked like someone had just kicked her puppy to death and made her watch, but then again I guess it was sort of like that. I dunno; my knowledge of the correct reaction to such situations is limited.

She pouted. “Well?”

I tried to think of something and came up totally blank. Finally, I tried. “Can I come in?”

She stepped aside primly. “If you’ve come here to apologise, Squall, then I should just – ”

“I’m not.”

A pause. “What?”

“I’m not here to apologise.” That wasn’t exactly true, per sei. I tried again. “Not for what you saw, anyway.”

“I see.” The drop in temperature wasn’t just metaphorical; I could see my breath hanging in the air. Suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good idea to dump a Sorceress – even a fairly inept one – in such a private place.

“So. It’s over?”

(“It’s been over for a long time. I just haven’t had the nerve to tell you…”)

“Yes.”

“You’re dumping me – let me get this straight here – not for Quistis like I always suspected you might, or even Selphie or Xu... You’re dumping me for another guy. And not even a sensible one like… like Zell or whoever… but for Seifer Almasy who – might I remind you, in case it neglected to register in that sieve you call a memory – tried not only to kill you not once, or even twice, but no less than four times, and – as if that wasn’t enough of a reason not to ever see him ever again – tried to, essentially, destroy all life as we know it? You’re dumping me for him?”

I processed this. “More or less.”

(“But you don’t have to be such a bitch about it. And my mind might be a fucking ‘sieve’, but at least I don’t try to defeat all-powerful Sorceresses with bracelets.”)

She narrowed her eyes petulantly. “Stop that, damnit!”

“What?”

“Being mean to me in your head! Thinking such big thoughts and keeping them all to yourself as if you expect the rest of us to just guess them by… by…”

(“Osmosis? Telepathy?”)

“… by whatever! Because that’s not going to happen, Squall!”

(“Then how come Seifer, Zell and Quistis seem to have no problem with it? Maybe because they actually try?”)

“It’s never going to happen, and you’re just going to end up sad and lonely and all by yourself. Alone, you hear!”

“I’ve never been alone.”

She looked as if I’d just slapped her. “What?”

Oops, hadn’t really meant to interject her tirade with that little titbit. “…Whatever. It’s none of your business.”

“Of course it’s my business, Squall! It’s my business because – ”

(Oh look, here it comes. The tears, the trembling lip, and…)

“ – because I love you.”

(“No you don’t. You love an image which you project onto me; the dark and surly hero whose veneer can only be cracked by the beautiful princess, revealing his sugary-sweet and mushy centre. Too bad life isn’t a box of cheap Dollet chocolates.”)

“Squall, please…” Apparently we’d gone away from Angry and into Concerned. At least the temperature had gone back up again. I wondered if she even knew she was doing it, and supposed not. Was that… dangerous?

“Please Squall; I worry about you. And… and I don’t trust Seifer. There’s just something… not right. He still has pieces of Ultimecia in him – I can feel them, Squall, and they’re horrible! And he knows something. Something we don’t…”

I was sure Seifer knew a lot of things we didn’t; the meaning of the word ‘semantics’, for example. I was also sure I knew Seifer better than Rinoa did and I could see the purple smudges under his tragedy-dimmed eyes. I doubted very much that he intended anyone any more harm, no matter what he was planning. He’d had to do too much growing up far too fast.

She was looking at me with those giant, glittering-black eyes so I just shrugged. “Jealousy will get you nowhere.”

“Jealousy? Why would I be jealous of a psycho like him?”

(“Because he’s managed to do in four days what you couldn’t in over a year; fuck me. Not even that; he’s managed to get me to want to fuck him. Not bad for a ‘psycho’.”)

My expression must have said it all.

“Squall, he’ll just use you and hurt you again. Abandon you.”

(“Actually, you know, in my entire life, he’s been just about the only one who hasn’t ever abandoned me. I don’t think he could; even if he wanted to. At least part of him sort of lives in my head…”)

Nope. For once she wasn’t going to pander to my abandonment complex and that was more-or-less her own fault; the War had taught me a few things about friendship, at least. And as for the other; Seifer had never really hurt me – well, nothing a few Curas wouldn’t clean up. Unlike a few of the other emotional blackmailers around here.

She must’ve taken my glazing over for an internal monologue as a good sign, because she reached out hesitantly to curl her hand against my cheek. “I won’t abandon you. We’re destined to be together; you promised to protect me. To be my Knight…”

(“Yeah. To protect you; not to fucking marry you. There’s a difference. Funny how nobody expects Seifer to get up and marry Ultimecia…”)

Now there was a disturbing-if-slightly-humorous thought; I guess the bad guy isn’t expected to live the Happy Ending. Lucky bastard.

I stepped back, knocking her hand out of the way. “Stop it. Listen to yourself; what a bullshit reason for a relationship! Because it was ‘destined’? Fuck, Rinoa, if you want to talk like that then it really is Seifer who I ought to ride off into the sunset with.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve known Seifer practically since I was fuckin’ born, I’ve never gone more than two years without him being around physically and I’ve had some kind of fuckin’ future echo of the guy looping around in my dreams since I was four.”

She looked confused. “‘Future echo’?”

I waved a hand. “Some kind of dream. He has it too; it’s not something you need concern yourself with.”

“You… you dream about him?”

“He’s all I’ve ever dreamed of.” I made a face. “Except for that thing with Laguna...”

That shut her up, and not just because she’d never been sent into the past like the rest of us. Those dream-memories of the desert, they were pretty damn destined; she couldn’t deny that.

“Oh, Squall… I tried…” She sounded so sad. It was annoying.

“I know. That’s the problem.”

I turned to go, and she didn’t try and stop me until I was standing in the open doorframe.

“Is it… Is he worth it?”

Absolutely no hesitation at all. “Fuck yeah.”

The door swooshed shut behind me, leaving her alone again. I never was very good at this sort of thing.

I found him in the common room for our Dorm wing. After talking with Rinoa I felt I deserved a little bit of that strange just being I’d felt before, so I sat down next to him on the couch. The news was on and he was intermittently watching it and reading from the large textbooks he had scattered across his lap, the couch, floor and side table. From the titles, I’d say he’d discovered his classes at some stage and decided to get himself together for tomorrow. I suppose he was checking if anything had changed since he’d last been here; nothing had. I refused to allow them to add the Third Sorceress War to the curriculum as long as I remained at Garden. The last thing I needed was a bunch of kids studying me for their mid-term essays.

He looked up at me over slim, rectangular black-framed glasses, nodding the barest of greetings. I never really understood why he wore glasses; his vision was clear, but it had something to do with him not being able to shift focus well. Being one of those people blessed with perfect eyesight meant the realm of the eyeglass would always remain a mystery to me.

We watched the news for a while; tribal warfare had broken out amongst the nomads in Centra, Dollet was complaining about being pressured into trade sanctions by Galbadia, scientists in Esthar had discovered yet another species of monster. Usual stuff.

Finally, sometime between the exchange rates and the weather, he asked. “So, how’d it go with Rinoa?”

I shrugged. “I thought she was going to kill me at one point; she can’t control her powers for shit.”

He snorted. “Maybe we should form a union; demand better working conditions from our mistresses.”

The way he said it sounded strange. I guess it was mostly because I wasn’t used to hearing Seifer defer to anyone, especially not Ultimecia. It occurred to me that there was a lot about that relationship I didn’t know, and Seifer wasn’t exactly forthcoming about it. But if he still thought of her as ‘mistress’… The thought that Rinoa might be right did not sit too well with me.

“What was it like?” I asked finally. “Working for Ultimecia.”

He turned and looked at me then, something like suspicion in his eyes. It passed quickly, and he just shrugged. “Kinda fun, actually, which is what made it dangerous. I… did a lot of bad things, but it was all very… fun.” He paused for a moment, and I thought that was all he was going to say. He surprised me. “Ultimecia is from the future – everybody knows that. But what you all seem to forget is that that means that she already knew the outcome of the War before she began; it’s common history.”

I furrowed my brows. (“But that would mean she knew she was going to die…”)

“I think – but I’m just guessing here – that she felt it might be possible to change the past by bringing everybody into her future; since your own future is the only thing you have even a little bit of a say in. Obviously it was a long shot, but she was willing to try just about anything. It also meant she kept giving me conflicting orders; I suppose because she knew that I wouldn’t be able to stop you but she hoped that I might, simply because by that stage she’d meddled around enough with the space-time continuum that she thought it might be weak enough to allow a few small changes. I think some might’ve slipped through.” He gave a sad smirk.

“But why?” I asked, shaking my head. I’d never understood any of it.

Seifer just shrugged. “I don’t know; she never told me. But I think you’ll all do something at some point which she’d rather you hadn’t done. Ultimecia had a lot of books in her library, and I did a bit of reading, but she’d never let me get to the history ones; I suppose so as not to disrupt continuity too much.”

“So you went to her castle?”

He waved dismissively. “All the time. I like it there; it’s kind of creepy but cool. I suppose you would’ve had a harder time ‘cause you were fighting all the way through.” He gave a grin. “Remind me to take you there sometime; just as a social visit.”

“I thought it was destroyed along with Ultimecia.”

“Only after a certain point.” He reached down into his shirt and pulled out a pendant on a leather thong, slipping it off and throwing it to me.

I studied it; a large black disc surrounded by golden filaments. It was beautiful, but ominous somehow, and altogether too cold to the touch.

“It’s a Key,” he was saying. “So as I can go home – back to the castle – should I ever need to. More of a token gesture, really, ‘cause my contract basically ended after the War. But I’m still technically her Knight – as far as I can tell the process is kind of irreversible – and she owes me for helping her with Time Compression. So…” he trailed off.

Something he’d said made me frown as I handed the Key back to him, our gloved fingers briefly touching. “‘Process’?” I asked.

“Yeah; ‘Knight’ isn’t just some fancy title. Sometimes to protect his mistress a guy will need a few extra perks. Like, I don’t care how good you are at hand-to-hand, but there’s only so much one guy can do against an angry mob with flaming torches. Hence the process of Knighthood. It’s kind of like Junctioning, but without the GF; was invented beforehand, I think.” He shrugged. “It isn’t used much, since it can be dangerous.”

“Why?”

“Because it draws off the power of the mistress, kinda splitting her down the middle. Plus it tends to transfer the personality traits of the Sorceress into the Knight.” He winced a bit. “It just burns out a lot of people; they can’t handle the outside influence and tend to go a bit crazy. There are other things; like if I’d been in the castle when you killed Ultimecia the shock would’ve killed me too. I was stuck in the continuum somewhere at the time, though. Hence survival; but I still felt it, and it hurt.” He shuddered a little with the memory.

“That’s why Rinoa can sense Ultimecia in you, isn’t it?”

“Yes. She’s not the only one, though.” He held up a gloved hand, flexing it. “Hence these; if I touch people they tend to scream.”

“Why?”

“It’s a bad power in me; feeds off all sorts of neuroses and negative emotions. People sense it, and it scares them. Just gut feral instinct, though. It doesn’t work so much on people who know me. Or apparently at all on you.” He shrugged.

“Are you sure it’s not reversible?” Seifer’s words began slowly sinking in. I would have felt sorry for him had I not been certain that he would have killed me for doing so.

“No, not really, but I assume so. Besides, it was my choice and I have to live with it.”

(choice…)

I chewed my bottom lip in thought. We’d always assumed Seifer was being controlled somehow – manipulated at the least – just like Matron and Rinoa, but he’d said ‘choice’. The phrasing was very, very clear. I told him as much and he just gave a sad smile.

“Well, some lady comes up to you and says, ‘Hey kid, wanna make the world a better place? Oh, by the way you’ll be the Bad Guy, but someone’s gotta do it, right? Did I mention that you’re also destined to do it anyway, so come on, stop dawdling.’ What should I have done? Ultimecia was a fucking psycho loony bitch but she wasn’t evil like everyone seems to think. As far as she was concerned, she was doing the right thing. It might not have been the ‘good’ or ‘nice’ thing, but it was the right thing.”

“Then what was with the ‘kurse all SeeDs’?”

“They’d had her under siege for the last six months. She was starting to get pissed off. Besides, as far as she figured things, it would be easier to convince you to come and kill her if you thought she was evil.”

(thought…)

“You never had any intention of killing us, did you?”

“No. I knew you’d have to survive at least until you got to the castle, and I was pretty positive you’d win there, too.” He grew sad. “Some things I didn’t know until too late, though. I knew Balamb wouldn’t be destroyed, but Trabia… She told me afterwards. I don’t know if she just forgot or deliberately withheld it, knowing there’d be no way in hell I would’ve launched the missiles if I knew everyone was going to die.” He rubbed his scar; a nervous habit, one I was familiar with because I did the same thing when I was stressed. “Manipulating the future…”

“What about Balamb? FH?”

He sighed. “You know what the army’s like. They get… excited. I was away, when I got back and I heard I got all shades of pissed off. Some things are just… not done. But I’m no fuckin’ saint, either.”

A brief flash of memory; pain and electricity and metal and blood. I pushed it away; no saint indeed. If he registered my brief expression he didn’t mention it.

“It’s easy to get caught up in the part, especially with Ultimecia’s power throbbing in the back of your brain. She’s… severe. The sort who’d cut off your leg to save you from an ingrown toenail. Not to mention a megalomaniac, sociopath, psychopath, paranoid schizophrenic, manic-depressive, et cetera, et cetera.

“But she came to me with a pretty straight deal,” he continued; apparently relieved to finally have someone listen after all this time. “‘The planet needs a hero and you’re not it, so come and be the next best thing.’ It’s a shitty job but someone has to do it, and people died and it’s more-or-less my fault, but it worked. Things are better now than they were before. Esthar opening its borders again has meant their technology is leaking through and slowly improving the standard of living. Galbadia’s finally taken a rest from invading all the neighbouring kingdoms, so there’s peace on the continent for the first time in who knows how many years. Even having to rebuild Trabia Garden is revitalising the Trabian economy with all the work its bringing in. The Cry was pretty devastating, though… we could’ve done without that.” He waved a hand. “Then there’s all of you guys; doing well and living Happily Ever After. All’s well that ends well, right?” He smiled ruefully.

“And you?”

“I’ve got my immortality; I’m the bad guy, remember? Mothers’ll be using my name to scare kids off to bed for centuries. That’s pretty cool, when you think about it.”

“What about now?”

He shrugged. “Actually, I never expected to see it out the other side of the War. I shouldn’t’ve, in fact; that was one of those ‘small changes’. So I hadn’t really planned on surviving. Hence I have no idea what I’m supposed to do now.”

I shuffled over a bit, drawing myself closer to him. “Just live.” I took off my gloves, gently stroking the side of his face, marvelling at the pleasure it brought him. Then again, if what he was saying was true, he’d pretty much braced himself for a lifetime of never being touched again by anybody.

“’Just live’?” he murmured, eyes closed, arching into my touch. “Never done that before; don’t really know how…”

“Me neither.”

“Oh well. Can’t be too hard; normal folk seem to handle it fine.”

I pulled off his gloves, taking his hands in mine. Now that I was actually looking for something, I could feel the power there, running just below the surface. It felt strange, thrilling. Dangerous. He must have realised I could sense it, because he bit his lip nervously, looking at me, waiting for my reaction. What, like he thought I’d reject him now?

I put his hands on my abdomen, pushing them up under my shirt – skin to skin – before leaning in, kissing him gently. It felt nice; I could do this forever. Longer, even.

I was sitting in his lap again, letting him run his hands up and down my torso, his lips caressing mine, when something soft and heavy hit me in the back of the head with great force. We broke the embrace guiltily, looking up to where Selphie and Irvine were regarding us with amusement. The thing that’d hit me turned out to be a pillow from the other couch, still clutched in Selphie’s hands. She leant forward, regarding us mischievously.

“It’s about bloody time. But guys, next time; get a room.”

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