Archive Post! FF8 Fic - In Memory's Honor Prologue
This is an archive post. This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net on August 7, 2005.
Title: In Memory's Honor
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Summary: Three years of aftermath and now Seifer has one chance to make it right again. Takes place after game. Seifercentric. Slight Seiftis
Chapter Word Count: 5,983
FF VIII does not belong to me and I make no profit from any of these tales. Any further archiving of my fiction is strictly prohibited unless cleared by me.
In Memory's Honor
Prologue
Seifer entered his dark lonely hotel room, worn and weary from the day. It had been a busy one. He had spent the better part of it chasing down one of his marks, finally catching him on his way straight out of town and collecting the money he owed. Returning it to Volney, his sometimes employer, he spent the rest of the day at the local bar, frequented mostly by others like him. All fugitives in some shape or form, all working in some way for the largest mob in Dollet, and all looking to get drunk or laid, preferably both.
Walking to the small bed and sitting down, he moved to take off his jacket, the movement jarring his already sore rib cage. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and eased out the pain. One of the debts that Volney had sent him to collect on a couple days ago had gotten in a lucky hit with a lead pipe and had broken at least two ribs. Of course, that was nothing compared to what Seifer had done to him in retaliation.
He was used to the pain though. Living life like he did, on whims and impulses, you learned to take the inevitable pain that came with the rush of excitement that followed a good fight or narrow escape. He was excellent at both. He had to be. Every government agency in the world wanted a piece of him and sometimes he only just escaped with all his pieces in tact.
They could all just bring it on. He’d kill as many as he had to. He wasn’t going to let them catch him so he could be put down like an animal. No, he wouldn’t succumb to such an ignoble death.
The moonlight coming in from the open window glinted off the object in the far corner of the room. Hyperion. Pretty much his only friend left. It was dull and needed polishing badly, but somehow, Seifer couldn’t bring himself to care as much as he used to. The sword had served him well, but nowadays, he was reluctant to pick it up and even more reluctant to let it go.
It had been that way ever since...
Seifer laid back, legs dangling off the edge. One more thing he was reluctant to talk or think about. He tried to keep himself busy, preoccupying his mind with thoughts of his next job, next escape, or next drink. But even that didn’t work at night, when he found himself alone, and in the dark, like so many other times before.
His memories of the time he spent by Ultimecia’s side were hazy, blocked out willingly by his sub-conscious. He did remember the dark, though.
The first time was right after he met the sorceress. She had whisked him away to Deiling City and he woke up in a dark room of the basement of a large mansion. His arms and legs bound to the bed.
He could feel her there, standing silently in the corner. She spoke, her voice dark and rich as black velvet, telling him of her plans, what he would become, what they would accomplish.
Foolishly, he now knows, he had listened. Taking it all in, and thinking that it sounded like a good idea. What good could come from an organization that trained children to kill for money? They certainly had never done him any favors. Of course, that was before he had known about time compression.
Then she had given him power. He still vividly remembered the sight of it, manifesting and slowly crawling toward him, reaching out for his throat. Despite the darkness of the room, it had stood out, a shiny, inky blackness against a blacker curtain. It moved like water, no... mercury, its motions fluid, yet held together, suspended in the air, circling above him before diving down into his nose and mouth, filling him more completely than ever before.
And he had screamed, back arched and fists clenched, for days and days until his throat was raw and his ankles and wrists bled. He screamed until he couldn’t remember if it was from the pleasure or the pain. It moved through him, the darkness. Ripping him apart at the seams and stitching him back together. The ecstasy of the power he felt, the buzzing in his head as he felt himself being lifted to a higher state of being, was like nothing he had ever experienced before, or would ever again.
Then he had passed out.
The second time...He remembered fighting the SeeDs in Lunatic Pandora, and losing. He had collapsed in a corner, body and pride ripped to shreds.
Then it came. Time compression.
Darkness took him in its grasp and he found himself suspended in it, surrounded by it. Not really standing or sitting, just there, unable to move.
And he didn’t care enough to try.
He had felt her die, a distinct snapping that forced his body to convulse. He had screamed again, worse than before. Screamed so hard that he cried for the first time in his life that he could remember. His nails dug into his palms so hard, leaving small crescent shaped cuts. The power leaving him, ripping out what felt like his soul and taking a part of him with it until he was no more than a shell of his former self.
But at the same time he was set free.
The freedom did him little good though, floating, wounded, alone and dying in time compression. He stayed a week, as far as he could tell, washing up on the shores of Balamb. Spit back into the world, reborn but less than he had been before.
Raijin and Fujin had found him there, half-dead, cold, hungry, and barely able to stand. They hid him in a small shack in the nearby forest, nursing him back to health on sympathetic looks and fishing trips. The first chance he got he hopped a train to F.H. and hadn’t looked back since.
Now, six months later, he had seen more of the world than many got to see in their entire lives. Running from town to town with the government bloodhounds on his back wasn’t exactly his idea of backpacking around the world, but still, he had stayed in every cheap hotel, drank in every seedy bar, and passed out in every dirty alleyway the world had to offer. It was comforting to know that there were other people in the world with as much to hide from as him.
He had seen more of the bad side of people in these grubby extended stay hotels, than he’d seen during the entire war. Really, and people said he was evil. At least he never paid fifteen year old boys to come over and do...whatever they did; he didn’t want to think of it. And he never beat or raped a woman into submission.
‘Yeah, but you did try to sacrifice your ex-girlfriend to an evil sorceress,’ his conscious poked. He just ignored it. These activities were the heart and soul of most of the places he stayed in; activity that seemed to be missing at this very moment.
Moving from his prostrate position on the bed, instincts on high alert, Seifer walked to the wall and listened. No sounds of the arguing or fighting that he had gotten used to in the past two weeks. It was quiet. Way too quiet for this time of night.
******
The man walked silently across the cheap burber carpet of the hotel, mindful to keep silent. In his earpiece, he heard the sound of the other teams checking other floors; the first four were clear, which only left the one he and the two other men were on. He was excited; his first big bust would be Seifer Almasy, war criminal and sorceress knight. They’d all be heroes and bring honor to Dollet. He had to struggle to remind himself that while victory seemed inevitable for them, Almasy excelled in such a condition.
In the months since the end of the war, Almasy had injured or killed dozens of agents making one of his now infamous escapes. What he didn’t know, however, was that they had a secret weapon.
His superior, while new to the Dollet Intelligence Agency, seemed to know what she was doing. After all, she had been a SeeD and possessed intimate knowledge of the fugitive. He made a note to congratulate her once this was all over, and maybe even ask her out; if she said yes, he’d win the pool.
Looking at the team leader, he nodded his readiness as they prepared to enter the next room. On faulty data, they had released the anesthetic gas in the hotel before Almasy had entered, leaving the tenants unconscious. It was no matter though, less noise to alert him as they moved through the rooms.
The team leader grabbed the handle, punched in the override code, and motioned them to be ready to cover him. He moved to take his position on the left and the leader opened the door. They filed in, guns at the ready, and found the dark room empty, a tan coat lying on the small bed and an open window with curtains swaying in the breeze. A Gunblade was propped against the wall, “He was here,” his team mate went to check the bathroom as he moved to the window.
Noise from below alerted him and he looked out the window. He saw movement and yelled out for all to hear, “He’s on the fire escape!”
“I’m on it,” a female voice called over the earpiece.
******
He moved as silently and as quickly as he could down the rusty ladders and landings that made up the fire escape. He was wheezing with the effort it took to pull down the old ladders and the pain that emanated from his ribs.
A voice hollered out his position from above and he gave up being quiet. Blood was pumping in his ears and the pain became distant, allowing him to continue viciously ripping down the ladders.
As he made it to the last landing, he gave up on the ladder and jumped. The landing pulsated from the soles of his shoes and caused his legs to quiver and stomach to ache. There was no time to fully get his bearings since DIA agents were making their way down the fire escape after him and he could hear more shouts coming from the street in front of the hotel.
He ran towards the back alley, boots pounding against the pavement and legs carrying him as fast as they could. Lucky for him, Dollet was famous for its vast infrastructure of back alleyways and he planned to take full advantage of that fact.
******
A few minutes earlier.
Random beeps and muffled radio transmissions filled the interior of the black control van parked out front of the hotel. Quistis Trepe signed, they weren’t at all inconspicuous. Two large black vans parked on the curb across the street from a hotel were bound to draw attention. Luckily it was night, a time when people were more apt to mind their own business.
Another team reported in, the third floor was clear. Selphie, sitting in front of her in the back, eyes on a map of the hotel on the monitor showing their positions, answered them. “Copy that Squad 3, proceed as planned,” The gargantuan headphones on her ears made her no less cute.
Quistis watched the blue dots on the monitor spread out, the three team members taking up their positions near both exits and the elevator, just like she had taught them. She smiled, two months and look how much she had contributed.
When she first got to Dollet, her new job being the reorganization of their intelligence, they were barely able to dismantle a car bomb, now they were on the brink of catching their first major international threat. Before, the small nation located on the northern peninsula of the Galbadian Continent had relied on Galbadia to take care of them. It was a shaky friendship at best, one that was abruptly cut when they invaded last year.
They were now looking to strike out on their own, and they felt that she was the one to help them do it. How could she refuse? Garden wasn’t going to give her license back, and at least this way she was still teaching, just not in a classroom. Selphie had insisted that she come along too, and they had found a nice little house to rent in one of the nicer neighborhoods. It was fun. Selphie kept life interesting. Zell stopped by once in a while, when he wasn’t on a mission for Garden. Irvine was over a lot, being Selphie’s on-again, off-again boyfriend.
She checked her watch, they should be going faster. Despite her confidence in her squads, she was still worried. The same old butterflies had gathered in her stomach. It was like watching her cadets take the SeeD test all over again. She was just worried that one would get overzealous. This was a big mission, one she felt she had to take care of herself. It had taken a lot of persuading to get her to stay in the van when she really wanted to be up in one of those floors. This couldn’t go wrong, she wouldn’t allow it. Catching Seifer, alive and unharmed was one of the most important things she felt she was ever going to do.
After unjunctioning all her GFs, she had experienced the most wonderful flood of memories. They came quickly enough, in her sleep and even sometimes when she was awake. Beautiful visions of her mother, so graceful and kind, a wise father, and of course, her time at the orphanage. Playing house with Selphie and Ellone, dress up with Matron, and of course racing their bikes along the road in front of the lighthouse. All these memories helped her sort out her feelings on the whole Seifer matter, explaining why it was so important to her to save the man that used to kick soccer balls at her face as a child.
She had briefed her entire team thoroughly, warning of severe punishment for use of unnecessary deadly force. Knowing Seifer, he wouldn’t give up easily. That was why it was so important that it be her to oversee his capture. Wouldn’t want him catching a bullet with his head or falling down a flight of stairs ‘resisting’ arrest.
“Floor four clear, proceeding to back up positions.”
“Affirmative Squad 4, go ahead,” Selphie replied.
Quistis sighed, only one more floor. Turning from Selphie’s station to the camera surveillance area behind her, she checked the street.
A total of 35 agents were present, herself not included. Four stationed in each van, teams of three on each floor, the roof, the basement, the front, and the rear. Imagine her bewilderment when she saw six agents loitering out front.
Lifting a hand to the ear of her smaller headset and pushing the button that allowed her to be heard, “Garris, what is your position?”
She observed the man in question in the monitor as he turned toward the van to answer, “We’re holding position at the front of the hotel,” he responded confidently.
“What was your original position?”
“The rear of the hotel.”
“Why did you abandon your post?” Her tone was stern, called back from her days as an instructor and practiced on many an unruly student. One in particular heard it numerous times.
Garris looked helplessly to his comrades, “Well...Its pretty much like a big maze back there, mostly made up of dead ends. No one in there right mind would try to escape back there, so we thought we’d be more helpful here.” He finished, almost sounding confident with his reasoning.
‘No one in their right mind...that fit Seifer to a tee.’
Quistis rubbed her eyes tiredly. So much for her well oiled machine. She reminded herself that every mission had unforeseen complications. This was one of them. “I specifically told you to cover the back,” She said slowly, “It doesn’t matter where those alleys lead, it’s the first place he’ll-“
“He’s on the fire escape!” She recognized the voice of one of the men in squad five.
“I’m on it,” ‘Damn, I hate being right,’ she thought just before she ripped off the headset. Bursting through the double doors in the back, she ran as fast as she could towards the back.
Fishing in her blazer pockets as she ran, she located the small portable receiver and put it in her ear, at least she’d be able to hear.
Immediately, Selphie’s voice filled her head, shouting out orders like a pro, “Front team hold your position. Roof team, readjust and Squads four and five head up to the roof and provide support. Watch your scopes and hold your fire, Agent Trepe is in the field. Squad three head down and support Quistis and Squads one, two, and basement team, head to-“
Quistis partially tuned out the rest. Selphie was directing the remaining squads to various locations around the block; soon they’d have it surrounded. She pushed herself faster around the large building, once again thanking Hyne Selphie had decided to come.
Making a left and rounding the corner to the back, she caught sight of a shadow ducking down an alley to the right. Several DIA agents were climbing down the last set of stairs on the fire escape.
“Spread out,” she yelled, not breaking her stride, “I’m going right.”
‘This place truly is a labyrinth,’ she thought, turning right. The alley behind the hotel split three ways, one the way she had come in, one on the left, and one on the right. The one she had gone down, one member of Squad three hot on her trail.
She stopped suddenly as the alley came to a t-shaped intersection.
‘Almasy wouldn’t go right again. That would take him too close to the street. He may be arrogant but he’s not stupid.’
The young agent that had bravely decided to follow her stopped short behind her, panting.
“You go right,” she commanded, gently pushing him in said direction before she broke left.
She ran hard, feet flying in long strides over pavement, cursing at herself for borrowing Selphie’s boots this morning. They were clearly not made for running.
She came to another intersection, this time, a three way split in front of her.
‘If I ever find the person that designed this city, I’m gonna hang him upside down from his toes with Save the Queen and leave him in one of his alleys.’
Felling her frustration building, she listened for any signs. Teams were updating her in the earpiece. No one had been able to lock onto his position and it’d take hours for their satellites to reposition so they could use the imagery. Damn their last minuteness.
A noise form the left caught her attention and she drew her standard DIA issued 9mm. One of the sacrifices she had made for this job was giving up her weapon. Specialty weapons were mostly a Garden/SeeD thing and as a result, Save the Queen was tucked safely away in the back of her closet along with her old SeeD uniform and pink battle gear.
She quietly jogged down the alley, gun held at the ready position in both hands.
‘Here I come, Almasy.'
******
‘Damnit’ Seifer threw his fist against the dead end.
He hadn’t had the time to properly memorize the entire city and his cleaver plan of sneaking out the back way had quickly gone to shit.
Back tracking to the last intersection he came from, he chose another path. One that would take him as far away from the street as possible.
No luck. A tall brick building blocked him on three sides, all its windows barred. The building also had a fire escape and as much as he didn’t look forward to climbing it, he also had to find a way to reach the ladder, and quickly.
The sounds of radio frequencies were getting closer and Seifer hurriedly looked around for something to climb on. There was a large green dumpster in the very back of the alley and he ran up to it, seeing a door that he hadn’t noticed before. Trying the handle, he found that it was locked. Feeling trapped, he gave it a few frustrated kicks, not caring how much noise he made.
Grabbing the dumpster by the lip, he began to pull it towards the ladder and freedom. His ribs protested at the effort and the dumpster refused to yield, no matter how hard he tired, it was too heavy. Maybe he could jump.
Walking back to stand under the ladder, he was estimating the distance when he heard a gun being cocked behind him.
“Freeze.”
The voice was familiar. The icy feminine tone brought back thousands of memories of a place farther away from his current predicament. Memories of bland classrooms, captivity, and dull lectures, with her controlled, softly accented voice droning over them.
“Is that you Trepe?” From the sound of it she was alone. He was prepared for the typical DIA agent, but not for Trepe. She was smarter and faster than the others he had encountered and he was encumbered by his injuries.
“It’s me. Put you hands up.” She ordered him, bossy as ever. He complied, turning to face her and putting his hands out in a helpless ruse, inching towards her, ready to make his move, “Don’t make me shoot you, Seifer.”
Seifer cocked his head, as if considering the situation. She would shoot him, “So what do we do now?”
“Now you turn around and get on your knees, hands behind you head.” She continued in that emotionless voice he hated.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He stated simply. No way was this going to happen, she would have to shoot him first.
Striking out with his right, he swatted the gun out of her hand, the metal scratching along the pavement as it skidded to a stop beside the alley wall. A blow from his left to her gut followed close behind. She staggered back a few steps, doubled over, arms wrapping around her middle. Seizing the opportunity, he made a break for the opening of the alley.
He didn’t get far. Trepe had recovered quickly and launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, feebly trying to restrain him. He staggered back from the surprise, not really from the weight, and tried to pull her arms off.
Failing miserably, he turned their backs to the wall and threw himself backwards. The sound of her grunts and forced out breath right in his ears.
That didn’t work either. Damn her.
She readjusted her grip, one arm going to his neck and applying pressure. Spots formed in his vision, and he stumbled a few steps forward.
Reaching over his right shoulder with both hands, he grabbed her by the back of her black blazer, shifting his weight and bending at the waist; he pulled, and felt her body fly over his shoulder. She landed on her back with a grunt, and again Seifer tried to run past her.
Again he didn’t get far, as her legs shot out, scissoring around his and pulling him down. With a curse, he hit the pavement face first. Pain shot up his side as he felt his broken ribs shift and grind against one another.
‘Stupid, fucking, persistent bitch.’
He had to hurry. The sounds of their battle, the grunts, soft thuds, and loud smacks, would soon draw in more visitors.
Rolling back to the standing position, he caught the sight of Quistis gracefully kicking her self up, landing in a traditional fighter’s pose, fists up. She struck out first with her left. Seifer saw her shoulder drop before and dodged back. She always was weak on her left side.
Using the momentum brought on by her missed punch, she spun, pivoting on her left foot and bringing the right up high.
Pain laced through his head as her boot connected, the tall heal breaking the skin at the temple. The force making him bite the inside of his cheek. A dull roar flooded his ears, rushing through, like being under water.
‘Damn her and her long legs.’ He fell to the side, on hands and knees. He tried to get up, slowly. Too slowly. Quistis aimed another kick at his mid-section.
Jackpot.
Letting out a garbled cry, the kick pushing him over and onto his back, panting. The pain in his chest and head too much.
He saw Quistis run to the side of the alley and retrieve the gun. He needed to get up, to run, but every muscle in his body cried out when he tried to move. Gritting his teeth and groaning, as if that would help the pain, he rolled to the side. Any further action was stopped as that move brought him face to barrel with Quistis’s gun.
He shifted his gaze up to her face. She was panting; normally cool eyes alive from the rush of adrenaline. Her suit was mussed, black pants now sporting spots of dirt and grim, much the same as his white shirt and jeans. A few strands of hair had fallen from her tight twist, softly framing her angular face. He moved again, holding his side.
Fuck it. He had to try.
She must have seen his intentions because she shook her head softly, lightly whispering, “No.”
He moved again, slowly, staring her down. Daring her to do it.
“Seifer, please,” he paused now on one knee.
It was something about her voice, the pleading tone and slight waver of it had taken him aback. She sounded as if she cared.
“I can help you.” She continued in the same tone, showing more emotion right then than he had seen her exhibit in all the years he had known her.
“Believe me Trepe, the last thing I need is your help,” he spit the last word out, along with a little blood, the syllables rolling off his tongue as if they were dipped in acid.
“Seifer, taking help from someone that’s offering isn’t weak. It’s smart.”
“Thanks for the advice.” His voice was free of sarcasm. Just the extreme determination of an animal cornered.
“Damnit Seifer, just hear me out. If you come with me, I have the means to make a deal. I’ll have you extradited to Balamb, there’s no death penalty there. But only if you come willingly, right now.”
He considered her offer, his pride would never allow him to be put to death by the state, and while he was always ready to die at any moment, he still didn’t want to.
“Seifer, please, I don’t want to shoot you.”
Long seconds ticked by, as head and ego fought for dominance on the cold pavement. Could he trust her; the woman he had enjoyed tormenting even before he was a traitor? As much as Quistis sounded like she didn’t want to shoot him, her training wouldn’t allow her to hesitate. If he ran, he would most likely be shot, maybe even killed, and there would be no deal. If he got away, how long would it be before he was in the same situation?
“This is a limited time offer, Almasy,” Quistis continued to plead. “More people will be here soon and they will not hesitate to kill you if you show even a little resistance.”
He was tired of running and his apathy won out, “You’d do all that for me, after everything I put you through?” He asked her suspiciously.
He must have easily given himself away. Seeing the distrust in his eyes, she slowly lowered her weapon, “Yes.”
“Why?” That seemed to be the question of the hour.
The blond woman let out a light laugh and shrugged, “I don’t know.”
‘Well as long as we’re both confused…’
Taking a deep breath, Seifer staggered up, aided by his arms. Quistis watched him warily as he thrust both hands out in front of him, “Alright.” His voice was solemn, and his stare was hard. “I trust you, Trepe.”
Walking up to him, Quistis gently cuffed his hands together and met his gaze, returning the determined stare with one of her own, “You won’t regret it.”
========== * ==========
6 months later - Balamb Supreme Court
The defendant sat behind the oak desk, dressed in a grey suit and blue tie and waited for the judge to sentence him. He was tired, the last six months had passed by in a headachy blur of ‘Seifer Almasy: this is your horrible life.’
The defense knew they had no chance of acquittal and spent most of the time trying to show that he was a product of society, hoping to get a lighter sentence. Consequently, the past six months were spent ripping open every closed memory he ever kept in the dark recesses of his mind and shining a light on it. It was intrusive. Everyone knew of his broken life at home and as an orphan; all his failures at garden where meticulously studied and analyzed by psychologists. He was learning stuff about himself that he wasn’t even aware of.
The one thing in all of this that Seifer could not understand, however, was that Quistis had kept her word on everything. It felt strange to him. Trust was not something that he gave out often, but she had demanded it from him and having no other choice, he had given in.
She had also given him hope; hope that one day, he could be free, utterly and completely on his own. No looking over his shoulder and no one telling him what to do. Something he hadn’t had in so long that it hurt to let the idea of it back in.
As a result, he had watched the one person that was genuinely on his side get ripped to shreds by the prosecution
He turned around in his seat to find the person in question. She sat a few rows back, distanced greatly from the rest of her co-workers that were also present. A result, no doubt, of her dealings with him over the past few months. She must have felt his eyes on her since she looked up to meet his gaze at that very moment. The corners of her mouth lifted in a small smile, one that he had learned was meant to be encouraging, one she had, in the past, only direct at Squall.
They were all there too, somewhere in the back. He had seen them when he walked in, but had paid little attention to them. The only one he had any interest in was Quistis anyway. Funny how things change. Who knew that a few well timed conversations were all it took to create a shaky peace between the two? He smiled back at her just as the judge walked in. She broke off her gaze and he watched the corners of her mouth drop back into the stern look she had adapted so well.
“Would the defendant please rise,” Judge Moore spoke in the powerful voice he always used.
Doing what he was told, Seifer and his two lawyers waited breathlessly. Seifer’s heart beat fast and hard against his chest. The prison itself did not scare him, he could handle himself; it was the idea of being caged. It made him feel claustrophobic. Locked away like an animal, and treated like one, too. If he had to be there for life he didn’t know what he’d do. Try to escape, maybe.
“Seifer Almasy, you have been found guilty of...”Seifer had heard this part thousands of times, war crimes, attempted murder, and strangely enough, operating a Garden with out a license. That one always made him smile.
A little loophole in Garden policy had negated any charge of treason he could have faced. Garden Code 10-1, his new best friend.
‘Garden is a nation all its own, its citizens loyal to no country except Garden and its interests.’
Since Cid at one time acted as a surrogate father to him and still was headmaster at Balamb, any charge of treason on the part of Garden not been pressed. However, there were other rules that he had broken.
“I am ready to rule,” the judge announced, finally finishing the long list. He set his gaze directly on Seifer and spoke to him as if he were the only man in the room, “This was a difficult decision for me to make. On the one hand you are still young and liable to make mistakes. On the other hand, those mistakes should not cost people their lives. You acted foolishly and without concern for your fellow human beings. Therefore, I sentence you to no more than twenty years in Balamb Maximum Security Prison. There you will receive counseling and be eligible for parole in two years.” The judge banged his gavel and Seifer let out a relieved breath.
Seifer shook the hand of his overworked court appointed lawyers and thanked them for their service. A car was waiting to take him to the prison and the two guards assigned to escort him waited impatiently as he was congratulated on their small victory.
Twenty years was a lot, but Seifer knew he would get through it. At least he had the option of parole, a tiny favor considering that most did not expect it to be granted to him. They all probably thought that he’d cause trouble or try to escape on his first night.
The two guards ushered him out the private back entrance, away from the crowd at the front of the courthouse. The bright early morning sun blinded him and he had to squint his eyes to see. The early autumn Balamb air was crisp and fresh and he took in several greedy gulps before they could load him in the car.
“Wait.”
Seifer and the two guards turned to see Quistis running out after them, taking the stairs carefully in her black sling-back shoes so that she wouldn’t fall and get her sharp black skirt suit dirty.
“Can I talk to the prisoner please?” She asked the guards and they complied.
“Trepe, come to give me a goodbye kiss?” He teased her, his tone lacking the spiteful edge it usually had when he did so. After all, he did owe her, and lately he found that he held no hostility toward her. She had helped him out even after all the hell he had put her through and trying to kill her. She was alright. Of course she still had a stick up her ass the size of a redwood, but it didn’t bother him so much.
“In your dreams,” She teased back, blushing, “I just wanted to wish you luck.”
“Don’t need it, but thanks. For everything.” He finished pointedly.
“I was my pleasure,” She blushed even more, “If you ever feel like it, you’re welcome to write to me.” She offered.
“Thanks, I just might do that.” She smiled up at him and he turned from her and back towards the guards.
“Seifer...,” She called out hesitantly and he turned back, “umm...I’m glad that they decided on the option of parole. Just...prove them wrong, okay.”
Her smile was brilliant, and the sun catching the gold in her hair made her glow. Seifer had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. Filing the image away for later study, he returned the smile with a confident smirk.
He would.
--------------------------------
Current Word Count: 5,983
Next Chapter
Title: In Memory's Honor
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Summary: Three years of aftermath and now Seifer has one chance to make it right again. Takes place after game. Seifercentric. Slight Seiftis
Chapter Word Count: 5,983
FF VIII does not belong to me and I make no profit from any of these tales. Any further archiving of my fiction is strictly prohibited unless cleared by me.
In Memory's Honor
Prologue
Seifer entered his dark lonely hotel room, worn and weary from the day. It had been a busy one. He had spent the better part of it chasing down one of his marks, finally catching him on his way straight out of town and collecting the money he owed. Returning it to Volney, his sometimes employer, he spent the rest of the day at the local bar, frequented mostly by others like him. All fugitives in some shape or form, all working in some way for the largest mob in Dollet, and all looking to get drunk or laid, preferably both.
Walking to the small bed and sitting down, he moved to take off his jacket, the movement jarring his already sore rib cage. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and eased out the pain. One of the debts that Volney had sent him to collect on a couple days ago had gotten in a lucky hit with a lead pipe and had broken at least two ribs. Of course, that was nothing compared to what Seifer had done to him in retaliation.
He was used to the pain though. Living life like he did, on whims and impulses, you learned to take the inevitable pain that came with the rush of excitement that followed a good fight or narrow escape. He was excellent at both. He had to be. Every government agency in the world wanted a piece of him and sometimes he only just escaped with all his pieces in tact.
They could all just bring it on. He’d kill as many as he had to. He wasn’t going to let them catch him so he could be put down like an animal. No, he wouldn’t succumb to such an ignoble death.
The moonlight coming in from the open window glinted off the object in the far corner of the room. Hyperion. Pretty much his only friend left. It was dull and needed polishing badly, but somehow, Seifer couldn’t bring himself to care as much as he used to. The sword had served him well, but nowadays, he was reluctant to pick it up and even more reluctant to let it go.
It had been that way ever since...
Seifer laid back, legs dangling off the edge. One more thing he was reluctant to talk or think about. He tried to keep himself busy, preoccupying his mind with thoughts of his next job, next escape, or next drink. But even that didn’t work at night, when he found himself alone, and in the dark, like so many other times before.
His memories of the time he spent by Ultimecia’s side were hazy, blocked out willingly by his sub-conscious. He did remember the dark, though.
The first time was right after he met the sorceress. She had whisked him away to Deiling City and he woke up in a dark room of the basement of a large mansion. His arms and legs bound to the bed.
He could feel her there, standing silently in the corner. She spoke, her voice dark and rich as black velvet, telling him of her plans, what he would become, what they would accomplish.
Foolishly, he now knows, he had listened. Taking it all in, and thinking that it sounded like a good idea. What good could come from an organization that trained children to kill for money? They certainly had never done him any favors. Of course, that was before he had known about time compression.
Then she had given him power. He still vividly remembered the sight of it, manifesting and slowly crawling toward him, reaching out for his throat. Despite the darkness of the room, it had stood out, a shiny, inky blackness against a blacker curtain. It moved like water, no... mercury, its motions fluid, yet held together, suspended in the air, circling above him before diving down into his nose and mouth, filling him more completely than ever before.
And he had screamed, back arched and fists clenched, for days and days until his throat was raw and his ankles and wrists bled. He screamed until he couldn’t remember if it was from the pleasure or the pain. It moved through him, the darkness. Ripping him apart at the seams and stitching him back together. The ecstasy of the power he felt, the buzzing in his head as he felt himself being lifted to a higher state of being, was like nothing he had ever experienced before, or would ever again.
Then he had passed out.
The second time...He remembered fighting the SeeDs in Lunatic Pandora, and losing. He had collapsed in a corner, body and pride ripped to shreds.
Then it came. Time compression.
Darkness took him in its grasp and he found himself suspended in it, surrounded by it. Not really standing or sitting, just there, unable to move.
And he didn’t care enough to try.
He had felt her die, a distinct snapping that forced his body to convulse. He had screamed again, worse than before. Screamed so hard that he cried for the first time in his life that he could remember. His nails dug into his palms so hard, leaving small crescent shaped cuts. The power leaving him, ripping out what felt like his soul and taking a part of him with it until he was no more than a shell of his former self.
But at the same time he was set free.
The freedom did him little good though, floating, wounded, alone and dying in time compression. He stayed a week, as far as he could tell, washing up on the shores of Balamb. Spit back into the world, reborn but less than he had been before.
Raijin and Fujin had found him there, half-dead, cold, hungry, and barely able to stand. They hid him in a small shack in the nearby forest, nursing him back to health on sympathetic looks and fishing trips. The first chance he got he hopped a train to F.H. and hadn’t looked back since.
Now, six months later, he had seen more of the world than many got to see in their entire lives. Running from town to town with the government bloodhounds on his back wasn’t exactly his idea of backpacking around the world, but still, he had stayed in every cheap hotel, drank in every seedy bar, and passed out in every dirty alleyway the world had to offer. It was comforting to know that there were other people in the world with as much to hide from as him.
He had seen more of the bad side of people in these grubby extended stay hotels, than he’d seen during the entire war. Really, and people said he was evil. At least he never paid fifteen year old boys to come over and do...whatever they did; he didn’t want to think of it. And he never beat or raped a woman into submission.
‘Yeah, but you did try to sacrifice your ex-girlfriend to an evil sorceress,’ his conscious poked. He just ignored it. These activities were the heart and soul of most of the places he stayed in; activity that seemed to be missing at this very moment.
Moving from his prostrate position on the bed, instincts on high alert, Seifer walked to the wall and listened. No sounds of the arguing or fighting that he had gotten used to in the past two weeks. It was quiet. Way too quiet for this time of night.
******
The man walked silently across the cheap burber carpet of the hotel, mindful to keep silent. In his earpiece, he heard the sound of the other teams checking other floors; the first four were clear, which only left the one he and the two other men were on. He was excited; his first big bust would be Seifer Almasy, war criminal and sorceress knight. They’d all be heroes and bring honor to Dollet. He had to struggle to remind himself that while victory seemed inevitable for them, Almasy excelled in such a condition.
In the months since the end of the war, Almasy had injured or killed dozens of agents making one of his now infamous escapes. What he didn’t know, however, was that they had a secret weapon.
His superior, while new to the Dollet Intelligence Agency, seemed to know what she was doing. After all, she had been a SeeD and possessed intimate knowledge of the fugitive. He made a note to congratulate her once this was all over, and maybe even ask her out; if she said yes, he’d win the pool.
Looking at the team leader, he nodded his readiness as they prepared to enter the next room. On faulty data, they had released the anesthetic gas in the hotel before Almasy had entered, leaving the tenants unconscious. It was no matter though, less noise to alert him as they moved through the rooms.
The team leader grabbed the handle, punched in the override code, and motioned them to be ready to cover him. He moved to take his position on the left and the leader opened the door. They filed in, guns at the ready, and found the dark room empty, a tan coat lying on the small bed and an open window with curtains swaying in the breeze. A Gunblade was propped against the wall, “He was here,” his team mate went to check the bathroom as he moved to the window.
Noise from below alerted him and he looked out the window. He saw movement and yelled out for all to hear, “He’s on the fire escape!”
“I’m on it,” a female voice called over the earpiece.
******
He moved as silently and as quickly as he could down the rusty ladders and landings that made up the fire escape. He was wheezing with the effort it took to pull down the old ladders and the pain that emanated from his ribs.
A voice hollered out his position from above and he gave up being quiet. Blood was pumping in his ears and the pain became distant, allowing him to continue viciously ripping down the ladders.
As he made it to the last landing, he gave up on the ladder and jumped. The landing pulsated from the soles of his shoes and caused his legs to quiver and stomach to ache. There was no time to fully get his bearings since DIA agents were making their way down the fire escape after him and he could hear more shouts coming from the street in front of the hotel.
He ran towards the back alley, boots pounding against the pavement and legs carrying him as fast as they could. Lucky for him, Dollet was famous for its vast infrastructure of back alleyways and he planned to take full advantage of that fact.
******
A few minutes earlier.
Random beeps and muffled radio transmissions filled the interior of the black control van parked out front of the hotel. Quistis Trepe signed, they weren’t at all inconspicuous. Two large black vans parked on the curb across the street from a hotel were bound to draw attention. Luckily it was night, a time when people were more apt to mind their own business.
Another team reported in, the third floor was clear. Selphie, sitting in front of her in the back, eyes on a map of the hotel on the monitor showing their positions, answered them. “Copy that Squad 3, proceed as planned,” The gargantuan headphones on her ears made her no less cute.
Quistis watched the blue dots on the monitor spread out, the three team members taking up their positions near both exits and the elevator, just like she had taught them. She smiled, two months and look how much she had contributed.
When she first got to Dollet, her new job being the reorganization of their intelligence, they were barely able to dismantle a car bomb, now they were on the brink of catching their first major international threat. Before, the small nation located on the northern peninsula of the Galbadian Continent had relied on Galbadia to take care of them. It was a shaky friendship at best, one that was abruptly cut when they invaded last year.
They were now looking to strike out on their own, and they felt that she was the one to help them do it. How could she refuse? Garden wasn’t going to give her license back, and at least this way she was still teaching, just not in a classroom. Selphie had insisted that she come along too, and they had found a nice little house to rent in one of the nicer neighborhoods. It was fun. Selphie kept life interesting. Zell stopped by once in a while, when he wasn’t on a mission for Garden. Irvine was over a lot, being Selphie’s on-again, off-again boyfriend.
She checked her watch, they should be going faster. Despite her confidence in her squads, she was still worried. The same old butterflies had gathered in her stomach. It was like watching her cadets take the SeeD test all over again. She was just worried that one would get overzealous. This was a big mission, one she felt she had to take care of herself. It had taken a lot of persuading to get her to stay in the van when she really wanted to be up in one of those floors. This couldn’t go wrong, she wouldn’t allow it. Catching Seifer, alive and unharmed was one of the most important things she felt she was ever going to do.
After unjunctioning all her GFs, she had experienced the most wonderful flood of memories. They came quickly enough, in her sleep and even sometimes when she was awake. Beautiful visions of her mother, so graceful and kind, a wise father, and of course, her time at the orphanage. Playing house with Selphie and Ellone, dress up with Matron, and of course racing their bikes along the road in front of the lighthouse. All these memories helped her sort out her feelings on the whole Seifer matter, explaining why it was so important to her to save the man that used to kick soccer balls at her face as a child.
She had briefed her entire team thoroughly, warning of severe punishment for use of unnecessary deadly force. Knowing Seifer, he wouldn’t give up easily. That was why it was so important that it be her to oversee his capture. Wouldn’t want him catching a bullet with his head or falling down a flight of stairs ‘resisting’ arrest.
“Floor four clear, proceeding to back up positions.”
“Affirmative Squad 4, go ahead,” Selphie replied.
Quistis sighed, only one more floor. Turning from Selphie’s station to the camera surveillance area behind her, she checked the street.
A total of 35 agents were present, herself not included. Four stationed in each van, teams of three on each floor, the roof, the basement, the front, and the rear. Imagine her bewilderment when she saw six agents loitering out front.
Lifting a hand to the ear of her smaller headset and pushing the button that allowed her to be heard, “Garris, what is your position?”
She observed the man in question in the monitor as he turned toward the van to answer, “We’re holding position at the front of the hotel,” he responded confidently.
“What was your original position?”
“The rear of the hotel.”
“Why did you abandon your post?” Her tone was stern, called back from her days as an instructor and practiced on many an unruly student. One in particular heard it numerous times.
Garris looked helplessly to his comrades, “Well...Its pretty much like a big maze back there, mostly made up of dead ends. No one in there right mind would try to escape back there, so we thought we’d be more helpful here.” He finished, almost sounding confident with his reasoning.
‘No one in their right mind...that fit Seifer to a tee.’
Quistis rubbed her eyes tiredly. So much for her well oiled machine. She reminded herself that every mission had unforeseen complications. This was one of them. “I specifically told you to cover the back,” She said slowly, “It doesn’t matter where those alleys lead, it’s the first place he’ll-“
“He’s on the fire escape!” She recognized the voice of one of the men in squad five.
“I’m on it,” ‘Damn, I hate being right,’ she thought just before she ripped off the headset. Bursting through the double doors in the back, she ran as fast as she could towards the back.
Fishing in her blazer pockets as she ran, she located the small portable receiver and put it in her ear, at least she’d be able to hear.
Immediately, Selphie’s voice filled her head, shouting out orders like a pro, “Front team hold your position. Roof team, readjust and Squads four and five head up to the roof and provide support. Watch your scopes and hold your fire, Agent Trepe is in the field. Squad three head down and support Quistis and Squads one, two, and basement team, head to-“
Quistis partially tuned out the rest. Selphie was directing the remaining squads to various locations around the block; soon they’d have it surrounded. She pushed herself faster around the large building, once again thanking Hyne Selphie had decided to come.
Making a left and rounding the corner to the back, she caught sight of a shadow ducking down an alley to the right. Several DIA agents were climbing down the last set of stairs on the fire escape.
“Spread out,” she yelled, not breaking her stride, “I’m going right.”
‘This place truly is a labyrinth,’ she thought, turning right. The alley behind the hotel split three ways, one the way she had come in, one on the left, and one on the right. The one she had gone down, one member of Squad three hot on her trail.
She stopped suddenly as the alley came to a t-shaped intersection.
‘Almasy wouldn’t go right again. That would take him too close to the street. He may be arrogant but he’s not stupid.’
The young agent that had bravely decided to follow her stopped short behind her, panting.
“You go right,” she commanded, gently pushing him in said direction before she broke left.
She ran hard, feet flying in long strides over pavement, cursing at herself for borrowing Selphie’s boots this morning. They were clearly not made for running.
She came to another intersection, this time, a three way split in front of her.
‘If I ever find the person that designed this city, I’m gonna hang him upside down from his toes with Save the Queen and leave him in one of his alleys.’
Felling her frustration building, she listened for any signs. Teams were updating her in the earpiece. No one had been able to lock onto his position and it’d take hours for their satellites to reposition so they could use the imagery. Damn their last minuteness.
A noise form the left caught her attention and she drew her standard DIA issued 9mm. One of the sacrifices she had made for this job was giving up her weapon. Specialty weapons were mostly a Garden/SeeD thing and as a result, Save the Queen was tucked safely away in the back of her closet along with her old SeeD uniform and pink battle gear.
She quietly jogged down the alley, gun held at the ready position in both hands.
‘Here I come, Almasy.'
******
‘Damnit’ Seifer threw his fist against the dead end.
He hadn’t had the time to properly memorize the entire city and his cleaver plan of sneaking out the back way had quickly gone to shit.
Back tracking to the last intersection he came from, he chose another path. One that would take him as far away from the street as possible.
No luck. A tall brick building blocked him on three sides, all its windows barred. The building also had a fire escape and as much as he didn’t look forward to climbing it, he also had to find a way to reach the ladder, and quickly.
The sounds of radio frequencies were getting closer and Seifer hurriedly looked around for something to climb on. There was a large green dumpster in the very back of the alley and he ran up to it, seeing a door that he hadn’t noticed before. Trying the handle, he found that it was locked. Feeling trapped, he gave it a few frustrated kicks, not caring how much noise he made.
Grabbing the dumpster by the lip, he began to pull it towards the ladder and freedom. His ribs protested at the effort and the dumpster refused to yield, no matter how hard he tired, it was too heavy. Maybe he could jump.
Walking back to stand under the ladder, he was estimating the distance when he heard a gun being cocked behind him.
“Freeze.”
The voice was familiar. The icy feminine tone brought back thousands of memories of a place farther away from his current predicament. Memories of bland classrooms, captivity, and dull lectures, with her controlled, softly accented voice droning over them.
“Is that you Trepe?” From the sound of it she was alone. He was prepared for the typical DIA agent, but not for Trepe. She was smarter and faster than the others he had encountered and he was encumbered by his injuries.
“It’s me. Put you hands up.” She ordered him, bossy as ever. He complied, turning to face her and putting his hands out in a helpless ruse, inching towards her, ready to make his move, “Don’t make me shoot you, Seifer.”
Seifer cocked his head, as if considering the situation. She would shoot him, “So what do we do now?”
“Now you turn around and get on your knees, hands behind you head.” She continued in that emotionless voice he hated.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He stated simply. No way was this going to happen, she would have to shoot him first.
Striking out with his right, he swatted the gun out of her hand, the metal scratching along the pavement as it skidded to a stop beside the alley wall. A blow from his left to her gut followed close behind. She staggered back a few steps, doubled over, arms wrapping around her middle. Seizing the opportunity, he made a break for the opening of the alley.
He didn’t get far. Trepe had recovered quickly and launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, feebly trying to restrain him. He staggered back from the surprise, not really from the weight, and tried to pull her arms off.
Failing miserably, he turned their backs to the wall and threw himself backwards. The sound of her grunts and forced out breath right in his ears.
That didn’t work either. Damn her.
She readjusted her grip, one arm going to his neck and applying pressure. Spots formed in his vision, and he stumbled a few steps forward.
Reaching over his right shoulder with both hands, he grabbed her by the back of her black blazer, shifting his weight and bending at the waist; he pulled, and felt her body fly over his shoulder. She landed on her back with a grunt, and again Seifer tried to run past her.
Again he didn’t get far, as her legs shot out, scissoring around his and pulling him down. With a curse, he hit the pavement face first. Pain shot up his side as he felt his broken ribs shift and grind against one another.
‘Stupid, fucking, persistent bitch.’
He had to hurry. The sounds of their battle, the grunts, soft thuds, and loud smacks, would soon draw in more visitors.
Rolling back to the standing position, he caught the sight of Quistis gracefully kicking her self up, landing in a traditional fighter’s pose, fists up. She struck out first with her left. Seifer saw her shoulder drop before and dodged back. She always was weak on her left side.
Using the momentum brought on by her missed punch, she spun, pivoting on her left foot and bringing the right up high.
Pain laced through his head as her boot connected, the tall heal breaking the skin at the temple. The force making him bite the inside of his cheek. A dull roar flooded his ears, rushing through, like being under water.
‘Damn her and her long legs.’ He fell to the side, on hands and knees. He tried to get up, slowly. Too slowly. Quistis aimed another kick at his mid-section.
Jackpot.
Letting out a garbled cry, the kick pushing him over and onto his back, panting. The pain in his chest and head too much.
He saw Quistis run to the side of the alley and retrieve the gun. He needed to get up, to run, but every muscle in his body cried out when he tried to move. Gritting his teeth and groaning, as if that would help the pain, he rolled to the side. Any further action was stopped as that move brought him face to barrel with Quistis’s gun.
He shifted his gaze up to her face. She was panting; normally cool eyes alive from the rush of adrenaline. Her suit was mussed, black pants now sporting spots of dirt and grim, much the same as his white shirt and jeans. A few strands of hair had fallen from her tight twist, softly framing her angular face. He moved again, holding his side.
Fuck it. He had to try.
She must have seen his intentions because she shook her head softly, lightly whispering, “No.”
He moved again, slowly, staring her down. Daring her to do it.
“Seifer, please,” he paused now on one knee.
It was something about her voice, the pleading tone and slight waver of it had taken him aback. She sounded as if she cared.
“I can help you.” She continued in the same tone, showing more emotion right then than he had seen her exhibit in all the years he had known her.
“Believe me Trepe, the last thing I need is your help,” he spit the last word out, along with a little blood, the syllables rolling off his tongue as if they were dipped in acid.
“Seifer, taking help from someone that’s offering isn’t weak. It’s smart.”
“Thanks for the advice.” His voice was free of sarcasm. Just the extreme determination of an animal cornered.
“Damnit Seifer, just hear me out. If you come with me, I have the means to make a deal. I’ll have you extradited to Balamb, there’s no death penalty there. But only if you come willingly, right now.”
He considered her offer, his pride would never allow him to be put to death by the state, and while he was always ready to die at any moment, he still didn’t want to.
“Seifer, please, I don’t want to shoot you.”
Long seconds ticked by, as head and ego fought for dominance on the cold pavement. Could he trust her; the woman he had enjoyed tormenting even before he was a traitor? As much as Quistis sounded like she didn’t want to shoot him, her training wouldn’t allow her to hesitate. If he ran, he would most likely be shot, maybe even killed, and there would be no deal. If he got away, how long would it be before he was in the same situation?
“This is a limited time offer, Almasy,” Quistis continued to plead. “More people will be here soon and they will not hesitate to kill you if you show even a little resistance.”
He was tired of running and his apathy won out, “You’d do all that for me, after everything I put you through?” He asked her suspiciously.
He must have easily given himself away. Seeing the distrust in his eyes, she slowly lowered her weapon, “Yes.”
“Why?” That seemed to be the question of the hour.
The blond woman let out a light laugh and shrugged, “I don’t know.”
‘Well as long as we’re both confused…’
Taking a deep breath, Seifer staggered up, aided by his arms. Quistis watched him warily as he thrust both hands out in front of him, “Alright.” His voice was solemn, and his stare was hard. “I trust you, Trepe.”
Walking up to him, Quistis gently cuffed his hands together and met his gaze, returning the determined stare with one of her own, “You won’t regret it.”
========== * ==========
6 months later - Balamb Supreme Court
The defendant sat behind the oak desk, dressed in a grey suit and blue tie and waited for the judge to sentence him. He was tired, the last six months had passed by in a headachy blur of ‘Seifer Almasy: this is your horrible life.’
The defense knew they had no chance of acquittal and spent most of the time trying to show that he was a product of society, hoping to get a lighter sentence. Consequently, the past six months were spent ripping open every closed memory he ever kept in the dark recesses of his mind and shining a light on it. It was intrusive. Everyone knew of his broken life at home and as an orphan; all his failures at garden where meticulously studied and analyzed by psychologists. He was learning stuff about himself that he wasn’t even aware of.
The one thing in all of this that Seifer could not understand, however, was that Quistis had kept her word on everything. It felt strange to him. Trust was not something that he gave out often, but she had demanded it from him and having no other choice, he had given in.
She had also given him hope; hope that one day, he could be free, utterly and completely on his own. No looking over his shoulder and no one telling him what to do. Something he hadn’t had in so long that it hurt to let the idea of it back in.
As a result, he had watched the one person that was genuinely on his side get ripped to shreds by the prosecution
He turned around in his seat to find the person in question. She sat a few rows back, distanced greatly from the rest of her co-workers that were also present. A result, no doubt, of her dealings with him over the past few months. She must have felt his eyes on her since she looked up to meet his gaze at that very moment. The corners of her mouth lifted in a small smile, one that he had learned was meant to be encouraging, one she had, in the past, only direct at Squall.
They were all there too, somewhere in the back. He had seen them when he walked in, but had paid little attention to them. The only one he had any interest in was Quistis anyway. Funny how things change. Who knew that a few well timed conversations were all it took to create a shaky peace between the two? He smiled back at her just as the judge walked in. She broke off her gaze and he watched the corners of her mouth drop back into the stern look she had adapted so well.
“Would the defendant please rise,” Judge Moore spoke in the powerful voice he always used.
Doing what he was told, Seifer and his two lawyers waited breathlessly. Seifer’s heart beat fast and hard against his chest. The prison itself did not scare him, he could handle himself; it was the idea of being caged. It made him feel claustrophobic. Locked away like an animal, and treated like one, too. If he had to be there for life he didn’t know what he’d do. Try to escape, maybe.
“Seifer Almasy, you have been found guilty of...”Seifer had heard this part thousands of times, war crimes, attempted murder, and strangely enough, operating a Garden with out a license. That one always made him smile.
A little loophole in Garden policy had negated any charge of treason he could have faced. Garden Code 10-1, his new best friend.
‘Garden is a nation all its own, its citizens loyal to no country except Garden and its interests.’
Since Cid at one time acted as a surrogate father to him and still was headmaster at Balamb, any charge of treason on the part of Garden not been pressed. However, there were other rules that he had broken.
“I am ready to rule,” the judge announced, finally finishing the long list. He set his gaze directly on Seifer and spoke to him as if he were the only man in the room, “This was a difficult decision for me to make. On the one hand you are still young and liable to make mistakes. On the other hand, those mistakes should not cost people their lives. You acted foolishly and without concern for your fellow human beings. Therefore, I sentence you to no more than twenty years in Balamb Maximum Security Prison. There you will receive counseling and be eligible for parole in two years.” The judge banged his gavel and Seifer let out a relieved breath.
Seifer shook the hand of his overworked court appointed lawyers and thanked them for their service. A car was waiting to take him to the prison and the two guards assigned to escort him waited impatiently as he was congratulated on their small victory.
Twenty years was a lot, but Seifer knew he would get through it. At least he had the option of parole, a tiny favor considering that most did not expect it to be granted to him. They all probably thought that he’d cause trouble or try to escape on his first night.
The two guards ushered him out the private back entrance, away from the crowd at the front of the courthouse. The bright early morning sun blinded him and he had to squint his eyes to see. The early autumn Balamb air was crisp and fresh and he took in several greedy gulps before they could load him in the car.
“Wait.”
Seifer and the two guards turned to see Quistis running out after them, taking the stairs carefully in her black sling-back shoes so that she wouldn’t fall and get her sharp black skirt suit dirty.
“Can I talk to the prisoner please?” She asked the guards and they complied.
“Trepe, come to give me a goodbye kiss?” He teased her, his tone lacking the spiteful edge it usually had when he did so. After all, he did owe her, and lately he found that he held no hostility toward her. She had helped him out even after all the hell he had put her through and trying to kill her. She was alright. Of course she still had a stick up her ass the size of a redwood, but it didn’t bother him so much.
“In your dreams,” She teased back, blushing, “I just wanted to wish you luck.”
“Don’t need it, but thanks. For everything.” He finished pointedly.
“I was my pleasure,” She blushed even more, “If you ever feel like it, you’re welcome to write to me.” She offered.
“Thanks, I just might do that.” She smiled up at him and he turned from her and back towards the guards.
“Seifer...,” She called out hesitantly and he turned back, “umm...I’m glad that they decided on the option of parole. Just...prove them wrong, okay.”
Her smile was brilliant, and the sun catching the gold in her hair made her glow. Seifer had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. Filing the image away for later study, he returned the smile with a confident smirk.
He would.
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Current Word Count: 5,983
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