fic: imperfect tense - ch.6 (ff7+ff8)
SPN IS ON THE COVER OF TV GUIDE, FUCK YOU, CHUCK FANDOM, WE FUCKING WIN. AND I DON'T EVEN GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THE GUIDE, IT'S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING. And now, more fandom hopping.
Imperfect Tense
Chapter 6
FF7/8 || R - sexuality, battle violence, language || Squall/Seifer, Sephiroth/Cloud || crossover
Jenova's legacy, living on through the Sorceresses, is forcing Squall to deal with an unstable Seifer, Cloud Strife, and yet another potential end of the world. Maybe paperwork really wasn't so bad.
Word Count: 2,160
Date: 6 December 2010
6.
Friday morning.
The Ragnarok was a monstrous construct of sharp angles and blood-red paint, looking more like a stationary predator than an airship. Quistis could see why Selphie might be accused of sexual harassment every time she was in the pilot's seat. The girl was currently in said seat, vibrating with energy, hands hovering over the controls impatiently and shooting Quistis looks that demanded satisfaction. That it was four in the morning didn't seem to bother her.
"Where's Squall?" she whined, twisting around in her seat to look high and low in the passenger area as though the boy was hiding in the ventilation shaft. Irvine shrugged, not bothering to look up from under his hat, and Zell had already fallen back to asleep.
"He's talking with the hangar manager," Quistis managed through a yawn. "Wants to make sure Ragnarok's up for a flight to Esthar."
"More like scaring the shit out of people trying to do their jobs," Selphie muttered, and Quistis coughed to hide her laugh.
Finally the ship gave a familiar light jerk as the main hydraulic door closed. Squall appeared a few minutes later, fully dressed and wide awake enough to put his subordinates to shame. Quistis was wondering for the millionth time exactly why he'd appeared at their respective quarters at three-thirty in the morning, with orders to prepare for a trip to Esthar, when he barked, "Set a course for the airbase."
Selphie grinned, shot off a mocking salute, and took to the controls with a rather unsettling cackle of glee. As soon as Squall took a seat on one of the benches, Quistis was at his side opposite a snoring Zell. "So, you going to tell us why we're going halfway across the world before sunrise?"
When Squall didn't reply she sighed and leaned back against the wall. "We're all worried about you, you know." She glanced at him from the corners of her eyes. "You've been harsher than usual. Selphie thinks it's because of Rinoa leaving, but that's not it, is it? You've been like this since the Time Compression."
He stared at the far wall and imitated a rock with impressive talent.
"Your secretary says you're usually there before her in the morning and still there when she leaves. She says she once found you asleep on your desk."
His brows furrowed, and for someone like Squall he might as well have cursed up a blue streak. Unfortunately for him the airship didn't provide much opportunity for him to slip away and hide. "I still sleep in my quarters. I still eat."
"The bare minimum, apparently."
His scowl deepened.
"We've all tried not to push you, Squall, but honestly, I'm getting tired of watching you run yourself into the ground. You might've saved the world, but you're only human."
"Rinoa's leaving was a mutual agreement," he surprisingly admitted, albeit without much emotion. Quistis made sure that she didn't lean towards him or touch him, which would shut him up as fast as a bear trap.
"But it still hurt, didn't it? Squall, that's natural. You get hurt, you move on."
He shot her an irritated look suspiciously like thank you for that condescending observation. "I've been having dreams," he said abruptly. "About being called by Rinoa, as a Sorceress. We're going to go pick up someone who might be able to help."
And with the way Squall tended to drop these bombs on people, thank Hyne that he wasn't usually needed during delicate diplomacy missions. "Wait, what?"
"I'm Rinoa's Knight," he said slowly, "and she's calling me."
"…Oh. Well. That. Doesn't sound good." She winced at her own inanity. Squall didn't bother to respond, just stared at the far wall with his arms crossed and obviously sunk deep into his thoughts. Irvine had slumped farther in his seat, his hat over his face, and Zell sprawled across the bench with a leg tossed haphazardly over the cowboy's lap.
Isn't this going to be fun.
The sun was starting to creep in through the small windows when Selphie suddenly sang, "We're here!"
Zell awoke with a snort and tumbled off the bench while Irvine twitched. Quistis snickered. Squall stood up and braced himself against the wall as Selphie went on, "Hey, Esthar, the sun's hardly risen and the new day's already starting! Get up off your lazy asses and let us down, I'm starving. Oh, Sir Laguna! How's it going being president?"
Tinny laughter from the radio buoyed Selphie's cheerfulness. "You wouldn't believe the paperwork. I swear I wake up at night scrawling my signature all over the walls, and Kiros never lets me drink anymore after that dinner with this ambassador and I swear it wasn't my fault."
Selphie was grinning. "Man, you should've seen Squally the one time we got some booze into him - "
Squall gently but firmly pushed Selphie to one side. "Is Strife with you?"
"Oh, uh, yes, Squall, but - "
Squall switched channels. "Ragnarok to airbase, Balamb SeeD Commander Squall Leonhart requesting permission to land for state business."
"Airbase to Ragnarok, permission granted," the captain replied, rattling off coordinates.
"That was rude," Selphie pouted, but she obediently started preparing the ship for landing. He just stared out the windshield and didn't seem to hear her.
…
The reflection of sunlight flashed off the underbelly of the airship as Laguna shifted from foot to foot impatiently.
"They'll be here," Kiros told him dryly, tranquil as a mountain glen, damn him.
"I know, but this is the kind of thing I want to get over with," he muttered. His eyes slid towards Cloud standing several feet away, enormous sword protruding over his shoulder and looking more like a statue than a living person as he stared up at the Ragnarok.
"I've never heard Squall or the others speak of this Strife," Kiros murmured, following Laguna's line of sight. "Have you asked your son about him?"
Laguna snorted. It was a surprisingly bitter sound. "Even if I had, I probably would've just gotten a blank stare." He hadn't even heard about the breakup with Rinoa until Selphie let it slip a few days ago. When he asked if Squall was talking to anyone about it, the girl gave him a strange look and asked if T-rexaurs had learned to fly yet.
Laguna felt the effect of the ship's engines vibrating in his chest as gales of dusty wind forced him to take several steps back. It shuddered as it touched down and taxied towards the hangar, and when the engines died the hangar assistants flew into action. Laguna stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it, wincing at the sudden silence.
"How was the flight?" he called out as Squall exited the ship, closely followed by the other SeeDs.
"It was fine, thank you, Laguna," Quistis said, suppressing a yawn. Irvine and Zell were slouching along while Selphie smiled at Laguna with all the cheeriness of her yellow chocobo barrettes.
Squall gave Laguna and Kiros a nod of acknowledgement before heading straight for Strife.
Now, watching Leonhart approach instigating a number of mental loops in Cloud's mind. One part was tempted to grin rakishly and crack a joke; another wanted to stand tall and school his face into perfect cool; a third, the oldest, part would rather be curled in the corner than forced to meet new people. Ultimately he chose to just stand there and wait and pretend not to notice that the younger commander was also taller.
"Strife," said Leonhart coolly.
"Leonhart," Cloud replied flatly. Somewhere behind Leonhart the girl in the yellow dress managed to actually guffaw with laughter. Cloud wasn't sure what was so funny.
…
Seifer walked a barren plain that had no sound, smell, or sensation. His hands and feet bled and he thought blood might also be spilling over his lips, down his chin. Overhead the sky was the black and blue of a bruise, faintly grey-green like dead flesh, somehow twisting and wriggling as though there were maggots on the other side. It was the end of the world and the end of time and there was nothing but an unending, unbroken horizon on all sides.
When he realized he wasn't alone, he whipped around, reaching for a gunblade he wasn't carrying and snarling, "Who the fuck are you?" His voice came out tired and thin.
The man smiled bitterly. "Would you speak to a god like that, boy?"
"I'll speak like that whenever the fuck I want," he replied automatically, but the man just arched a brow.
"Mother will kill you."
"The hell're you talking about?" Seifer snarled, the sudden weight of Hyperion in his hand distracting him, letting him lash out instinctively, but the gunblade was caught by another sword with a shriek and a shower of sparks. The man's sword was longer than either of them was tall, long and razor-sharp and made for the kind of slashing that left opponents in little pieces.
What was strange, though, even in the midst of all this decay and barrenness, was that the man's expression was blank. Expressionless. He wasn't looking at Seifer so much as through him, and although Seifer was straining and sweating against the lock of their blades the man hardly appeared to notice. He said mildly, "Tell Cloud that I will not remain a memory."
Behind the man's shoulder flexed a single dark wing, the feathers flaring out and obscuring the rotten sky, but then the man shoved him back and his sword flickered out, bit deeply into his shoulder -
- and there was someone holding him down against a cushion, but wasn't Raijin supposed to be dead?
Seifer struggled until Raijin released him and he sat up defensively against the armrest of the sofa, not immediately realizing that the growl he was hearing came from his own throat.
"SEIFER?"
Holy shit, you sad fucker, you really are going insane. There were bruises already beginning to form across Raijin's bare arms. "What the hell?" he croaked.
"Uh, Seifer, you're bleeding, yanno?"
Seifer stared at him blankly until he recognized there was pain searing through his shoulder, and then he flinched, hissing. A gash had opened itself in the flesh, just below the clavicle and a scant few centimeters from the joint itself, and was too obviously from a blade. Blood was dripping heavily down his arm and the front of his sleeveless wife-beater.
"Whoa," said Raijin eloquently.
"That's me, the Human fucking Wonder," Seifer muttered, still sounding like his throat was smoked out. A shadow near the door resolved itself into that new guy…Valentine? Some name that belonged in a porno, anyway, and Valentine was giving him the kind of dissecting stare that Quistis had been so damn good at.
"What did you see?" the guy asked, and if Seifer ever again felt strong enough to at least take on a five-year-old kid and win, he might mention that the porn industry would love to have that voice.
"Your momma. Forgot to call and tell her I'd be late tonight."
"SEIFER."
Seifer scowled. "It was just a Hyne-damned dream," he muttered, tasting the lie. The wound in his shoulder throbbed as Raijin grabbed a medical kit sitting by Fujin's freshly-wrapped leg and sat on the edge of the sofa. It had felt more like those hallucinations he'd been having since Ultimecia's death, or maybe memories, whatever, he didn't have any fucking clue what was going on in his own head anymore.
"That was no dream," said Valentine, and Seifer snapped, "Thank you, Captain Obvious. Who let the vampire in the house anyway?"
"What kind of sword did this?" Raijin asked with a note that almost sounded like awe as he wiped away the blood.
"Fucker's blade must've been six, seven feet long."
Valentine moved so quickly that none of the other three had a chance to react before he was leaning over Seifer, claw clamped around his unwounded shoulder. "What did he say?"
"Hey!" cried Raijin, getting ready for some serious manhandling, and Fujin was struggling for the knife in her boot when Seifer barked, "Calm down!"
Meeting Valentine's eyes, he said, "Back the fuck off and I'll tell you," and waited until the guy had taken a few steps away. "He didn't give me a name, just said his mother would kill me and to tell Cloud, or a cloud, I don't know, that he wasn't gonna stay a memory."
It obviously meant something to Valentine, who withdrew towards the shadows near the door again in brooding silence.
"Yo, you maybe wanna share with the class? Explain why I'm sittin' here with a fucking hole in my shoulder?" Seifer asked testily, but from ancient history with Squall he recognized that silence as one that would last as long as the brooder damn well pleased.
"Fuck my life," he grumbled as Raijin, still casting wary looks at Valentine, started wrapping him in gauze.
Previous parts:
DW || LJ
Imperfect Tense
Chapter 6
FF7/8 || R - sexuality, battle violence, language || Squall/Seifer, Sephiroth/Cloud || crossover
Jenova's legacy, living on through the Sorceresses, is forcing Squall to deal with an unstable Seifer, Cloud Strife, and yet another potential end of the world. Maybe paperwork really wasn't so bad.
Word Count: 2,160
Date: 6 December 2010
6.
Friday morning.
The Ragnarok was a monstrous construct of sharp angles and blood-red paint, looking more like a stationary predator than an airship. Quistis could see why Selphie might be accused of sexual harassment every time she was in the pilot's seat. The girl was currently in said seat, vibrating with energy, hands hovering over the controls impatiently and shooting Quistis looks that demanded satisfaction. That it was four in the morning didn't seem to bother her.
"Where's Squall?" she whined, twisting around in her seat to look high and low in the passenger area as though the boy was hiding in the ventilation shaft. Irvine shrugged, not bothering to look up from under his hat, and Zell had already fallen back to asleep.
"He's talking with the hangar manager," Quistis managed through a yawn. "Wants to make sure Ragnarok's up for a flight to Esthar."
"More like scaring the shit out of people trying to do their jobs," Selphie muttered, and Quistis coughed to hide her laugh.
Finally the ship gave a familiar light jerk as the main hydraulic door closed. Squall appeared a few minutes later, fully dressed and wide awake enough to put his subordinates to shame. Quistis was wondering for the millionth time exactly why he'd appeared at their respective quarters at three-thirty in the morning, with orders to prepare for a trip to Esthar, when he barked, "Set a course for the airbase."
Selphie grinned, shot off a mocking salute, and took to the controls with a rather unsettling cackle of glee. As soon as Squall took a seat on one of the benches, Quistis was at his side opposite a snoring Zell. "So, you going to tell us why we're going halfway across the world before sunrise?"
When Squall didn't reply she sighed and leaned back against the wall. "We're all worried about you, you know." She glanced at him from the corners of her eyes. "You've been harsher than usual. Selphie thinks it's because of Rinoa leaving, but that's not it, is it? You've been like this since the Time Compression."
He stared at the far wall and imitated a rock with impressive talent.
"Your secretary says you're usually there before her in the morning and still there when she leaves. She says she once found you asleep on your desk."
His brows furrowed, and for someone like Squall he might as well have cursed up a blue streak. Unfortunately for him the airship didn't provide much opportunity for him to slip away and hide. "I still sleep in my quarters. I still eat."
"The bare minimum, apparently."
His scowl deepened.
"We've all tried not to push you, Squall, but honestly, I'm getting tired of watching you run yourself into the ground. You might've saved the world, but you're only human."
"Rinoa's leaving was a mutual agreement," he surprisingly admitted, albeit without much emotion. Quistis made sure that she didn't lean towards him or touch him, which would shut him up as fast as a bear trap.
"But it still hurt, didn't it? Squall, that's natural. You get hurt, you move on."
He shot her an irritated look suspiciously like thank you for that condescending observation. "I've been having dreams," he said abruptly. "About being called by Rinoa, as a Sorceress. We're going to go pick up someone who might be able to help."
And with the way Squall tended to drop these bombs on people, thank Hyne that he wasn't usually needed during delicate diplomacy missions. "Wait, what?"
"I'm Rinoa's Knight," he said slowly, "and she's calling me."
"…Oh. Well. That. Doesn't sound good." She winced at her own inanity. Squall didn't bother to respond, just stared at the far wall with his arms crossed and obviously sunk deep into his thoughts. Irvine had slumped farther in his seat, his hat over his face, and Zell sprawled across the bench with a leg tossed haphazardly over the cowboy's lap.
Isn't this going to be fun.
The sun was starting to creep in through the small windows when Selphie suddenly sang, "We're here!"
Zell awoke with a snort and tumbled off the bench while Irvine twitched. Quistis snickered. Squall stood up and braced himself against the wall as Selphie went on, "Hey, Esthar, the sun's hardly risen and the new day's already starting! Get up off your lazy asses and let us down, I'm starving. Oh, Sir Laguna! How's it going being president?"
Tinny laughter from the radio buoyed Selphie's cheerfulness. "You wouldn't believe the paperwork. I swear I wake up at night scrawling my signature all over the walls, and Kiros never lets me drink anymore after that dinner with this ambassador and I swear it wasn't my fault."
Selphie was grinning. "Man, you should've seen Squally the one time we got some booze into him - "
Squall gently but firmly pushed Selphie to one side. "Is Strife with you?"
"Oh, uh, yes, Squall, but - "
Squall switched channels. "Ragnarok to airbase, Balamb SeeD Commander Squall Leonhart requesting permission to land for state business."
"Airbase to Ragnarok, permission granted," the captain replied, rattling off coordinates.
"That was rude," Selphie pouted, but she obediently started preparing the ship for landing. He just stared out the windshield and didn't seem to hear her.
…
The reflection of sunlight flashed off the underbelly of the airship as Laguna shifted from foot to foot impatiently.
"They'll be here," Kiros told him dryly, tranquil as a mountain glen, damn him.
"I know, but this is the kind of thing I want to get over with," he muttered. His eyes slid towards Cloud standing several feet away, enormous sword protruding over his shoulder and looking more like a statue than a living person as he stared up at the Ragnarok.
"I've never heard Squall or the others speak of this Strife," Kiros murmured, following Laguna's line of sight. "Have you asked your son about him?"
Laguna snorted. It was a surprisingly bitter sound. "Even if I had, I probably would've just gotten a blank stare." He hadn't even heard about the breakup with Rinoa until Selphie let it slip a few days ago. When he asked if Squall was talking to anyone about it, the girl gave him a strange look and asked if T-rexaurs had learned to fly yet.
Laguna felt the effect of the ship's engines vibrating in his chest as gales of dusty wind forced him to take several steps back. It shuddered as it touched down and taxied towards the hangar, and when the engines died the hangar assistants flew into action. Laguna stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it, wincing at the sudden silence.
"How was the flight?" he called out as Squall exited the ship, closely followed by the other SeeDs.
"It was fine, thank you, Laguna," Quistis said, suppressing a yawn. Irvine and Zell were slouching along while Selphie smiled at Laguna with all the cheeriness of her yellow chocobo barrettes.
Squall gave Laguna and Kiros a nod of acknowledgement before heading straight for Strife.
Now, watching Leonhart approach instigating a number of mental loops in Cloud's mind. One part was tempted to grin rakishly and crack a joke; another wanted to stand tall and school his face into perfect cool; a third, the oldest, part would rather be curled in the corner than forced to meet new people. Ultimately he chose to just stand there and wait and pretend not to notice that the younger commander was also taller.
"Strife," said Leonhart coolly.
"Leonhart," Cloud replied flatly. Somewhere behind Leonhart the girl in the yellow dress managed to actually guffaw with laughter. Cloud wasn't sure what was so funny.
…
Seifer walked a barren plain that had no sound, smell, or sensation. His hands and feet bled and he thought blood might also be spilling over his lips, down his chin. Overhead the sky was the black and blue of a bruise, faintly grey-green like dead flesh, somehow twisting and wriggling as though there were maggots on the other side. It was the end of the world and the end of time and there was nothing but an unending, unbroken horizon on all sides.
When he realized he wasn't alone, he whipped around, reaching for a gunblade he wasn't carrying and snarling, "Who the fuck are you?" His voice came out tired and thin.
The man smiled bitterly. "Would you speak to a god like that, boy?"
"I'll speak like that whenever the fuck I want," he replied automatically, but the man just arched a brow.
"Mother will kill you."
"The hell're you talking about?" Seifer snarled, the sudden weight of Hyperion in his hand distracting him, letting him lash out instinctively, but the gunblade was caught by another sword with a shriek and a shower of sparks. The man's sword was longer than either of them was tall, long and razor-sharp and made for the kind of slashing that left opponents in little pieces.
What was strange, though, even in the midst of all this decay and barrenness, was that the man's expression was blank. Expressionless. He wasn't looking at Seifer so much as through him, and although Seifer was straining and sweating against the lock of their blades the man hardly appeared to notice. He said mildly, "Tell Cloud that I will not remain a memory."
Behind the man's shoulder flexed a single dark wing, the feathers flaring out and obscuring the rotten sky, but then the man shoved him back and his sword flickered out, bit deeply into his shoulder -
- and there was someone holding him down against a cushion, but wasn't Raijin supposed to be dead?
Seifer struggled until Raijin released him and he sat up defensively against the armrest of the sofa, not immediately realizing that the growl he was hearing came from his own throat.
"SEIFER?"
Holy shit, you sad fucker, you really are going insane. There were bruises already beginning to form across Raijin's bare arms. "What the hell?" he croaked.
"Uh, Seifer, you're bleeding, yanno?"
Seifer stared at him blankly until he recognized there was pain searing through his shoulder, and then he flinched, hissing. A gash had opened itself in the flesh, just below the clavicle and a scant few centimeters from the joint itself, and was too obviously from a blade. Blood was dripping heavily down his arm and the front of his sleeveless wife-beater.
"Whoa," said Raijin eloquently.
"That's me, the Human fucking Wonder," Seifer muttered, still sounding like his throat was smoked out. A shadow near the door resolved itself into that new guy…Valentine? Some name that belonged in a porno, anyway, and Valentine was giving him the kind of dissecting stare that Quistis had been so damn good at.
"What did you see?" the guy asked, and if Seifer ever again felt strong enough to at least take on a five-year-old kid and win, he might mention that the porn industry would love to have that voice.
"Your momma. Forgot to call and tell her I'd be late tonight."
"SEIFER."
Seifer scowled. "It was just a Hyne-damned dream," he muttered, tasting the lie. The wound in his shoulder throbbed as Raijin grabbed a medical kit sitting by Fujin's freshly-wrapped leg and sat on the edge of the sofa. It had felt more like those hallucinations he'd been having since Ultimecia's death, or maybe memories, whatever, he didn't have any fucking clue what was going on in his own head anymore.
"That was no dream," said Valentine, and Seifer snapped, "Thank you, Captain Obvious. Who let the vampire in the house anyway?"
"What kind of sword did this?" Raijin asked with a note that almost sounded like awe as he wiped away the blood.
"Fucker's blade must've been six, seven feet long."
Valentine moved so quickly that none of the other three had a chance to react before he was leaning over Seifer, claw clamped around his unwounded shoulder. "What did he say?"
"Hey!" cried Raijin, getting ready for some serious manhandling, and Fujin was struggling for the knife in her boot when Seifer barked, "Calm down!"
Meeting Valentine's eyes, he said, "Back the fuck off and I'll tell you," and waited until the guy had taken a few steps away. "He didn't give me a name, just said his mother would kill me and to tell Cloud, or a cloud, I don't know, that he wasn't gonna stay a memory."
It obviously meant something to Valentine, who withdrew towards the shadows near the door again in brooding silence.
"Yo, you maybe wanna share with the class? Explain why I'm sittin' here with a fucking hole in my shoulder?" Seifer asked testily, but from ancient history with Squall he recognized that silence as one that would last as long as the brooder damn well pleased.
"Fuck my life," he grumbled as Raijin, still casting wary looks at Valentine, started wrapping him in gauze.
Previous parts:
DW || LJ