Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Protecting the Lion ❯ Knowing a Friend ( Chapter 35 )

Chapter Thirty-Five

Knowing a Friend

 

Within the infirmary, Squall sat impassively on the edge of a bed, while Dr. Kadowaki poked and prodded. He was determined to get the whole thing over with.

 

“I've never had any one person visit me so many times,” the older woman chastised kindly. Velcro sounded as she unstrapped the blood pressure wrap. “It's a medical anomaly that you're still as healthy as you are,” she sighed, straightening up.

 

It was truly a surprise that Squall had still been walking about and working competently earlier that week. While exhausted, and not in the best shape ever, the boy had been able to function. Now, little less than a week later, he seemed to be in better shape, which didn't seem to be possible given the rumored events that had been demanding the Commander's attention.

 

Though, yesterday, the pale boy had come in looking a great deal worse than she'd seen him since the end of the war. Bruised and battered, it was obviously more than a normal battle. The hand shaped bruises on his neck had been proof of that. But, she wasn't SeeD, and within the messy rules of authority, she hadn't been given any details.

 

With magic, it was easy enough to heal almost any wound. The trouble with these soldiers was that if they hadn't gotten hurt in a legitimate fight, then they wouldn't allow the use of magic. It was perplexing and often times infuriating. While she hadn't lost a patient yet, a medical miracle for most doctors, she had a few close calls.

 

After years of the same military mindset about the boundaries between magic and medicine, she'd actually become adopted to the idea of what was forbidden. Usually it was all black and white. If a cadet tripped down a set of stairs and broke their leg, then a curing spell could not be used. If a cadet was training and broke their leg, then a spell could be used, if and only if the sparring had been an official one. It was ridiculous, but that was how the mercenaries were. They took nothing for granted, and she was powerless to say otherwise, since she was incapable of performing the spells herself.

 

Last night had been a tricky situation. Squall had initially refused a spell. Naturally, she had figured as much since the boy wouldn't have come to her in such a state in the first place if he could have just used a Cure, instead he would have just healed himself.

 

As usual, Squall had been accompanied by the rivaling blond knight. Of the many times either had been sent to her, or on rarer occasions hobbled along to see her willingly, there were few times she could recall that one had been here without the other.

 

The drugs in the brunet's system made it difficult to truly assess the boy's health. Some form of a barbiturate. There were no traces of it in the blood, at least nothing the toxicology screening showed. Mr. Kinneas had performed a healing spell against the Commander's wishes, but once it was done there was no use in arguing over it. However, the impairing status effects lingered, while the undetectable drug ran its course. There was little she could do without knowing what she was dealing with. So, she'd ordered Squall to rest for the night and see if his system flushed it all out.

 

By the time she'd been argued down to letting the Commander leave the infirmary while in her charge, the boy was already showing signs of recovery from the sedative. The young man was living proof that the mind could overcome the body. Judging from the small pricks on his arm she'd seen, there had been a constant injection of the stuff. Any depressant given in continual dosage, no matter the type, would knock a person out cold. It was a wonder the young man was even conscious when he came to her.

 

Sighing again, Dr. Kadowaki bit down on all the angry reprimands she wanted to give. Her words of caution had fallen on deaf ears for the past ten years-or-so that she'd been patching Squall up. There was no getting through, especially since trouble seemed to be Squall Leonhart's middle name. It was plain as day that the boy wanted to get of there as soon as possible, the way he wasn't squirming about on the bed, trying to be the perfect patient and get it over with.

 

Squall sensed that the doctor had finished with him, and judging from that look on her face, her lips formed a thin line, he was about to get another lecture.

 

When the dark haired woman didn't speak, but gave him a heart felt glare, he offered a small smile of reassurance.

 

“Oh, don't you go using your charms on me,” she immediately reprimanded.

 

Squall's smile faltered. `Charms?' he wondered. With a small shake of his head, he ignored it. “Am I discharged?” he asked softly, not wanting to further upset the woman, lest she schedule appointments for him through to the next month.

 

“Just as soon as I take a look at that,” she gestured to the white bandage on Squall's neck. When he left the infirmary yesterday, there had been no wounds there.

 

Squall instinctively clasped a hand to the gauzy material taped to his neck. Short of wearing a scarf, he'd opted to put the thing over the hickie Seifer had given him. The arrogant blond had protested him covering it, but he wouldn't step outside the apartment with a prominent mark like that in such an obvious place.

 

“That's not necessary,” he finally said.

 

Dr. Kadowaki studied Squall suspiciously, before heaving another sigh. “I'll have an early grave from the stress you give me, but you're good to go.”

 

The brunet was gone in a blur, rushing passed her and out of the infirmary. She watched the door close and shook her head dejectedly. Some things would never change. She couldn't decide whether Squall liked it in here or not. He so often wound up injured and spending time in the hospital wing, but as soon as he came he struggled to get out. Perhaps the boy was a masochist.

 

With another shake of her head, she rid herself of the thought and focused her attention on more appreciative patients.

 

 

Squall rushed from the infirmary, practically jogging for the Training Center. He would have been running, except the fact that his ass was protesting every step he took. Ignoring the glances he received, he hurried along.

 

His shadow was off with Quistis. It was the first time in the passed five days that he hadn't been connected at the hip to Seifer, excluding the half hour or so of involuntary separation while Seifer had handled Epson.

 

The Head Instructor had caught the pair of them as they were on their way to the infirmary and beckoned Seifer to accompany her for a few questions. Squall had simply shrugged his shoulders, while Seifer had out right refused to leave his side. That had been his cue to huff in indignation and tell Seifer to go with Quistis, just to spite the man's controlling nature.

 

It wasn't that Squall was sick of Seifer's company, but it was slightly refreshing to have the isolation he so constantly sought. Besides, it wouldn't take long for Quistis to talk to Seifer, considering the blond had set the terms that whatever it was couldn't exceed an hour of his time.

 

While he would have preferred to take a trip down to the beach, even in the crummy weather, he chose to stay within the walls of Balamb Garden. If Seifer found out, which would have been more than likely, the ex-knight would throw a fit. As it was, the blond would probably yell at him for leaving the infirmary and going anywhere but back to their apartment.

 

But, there was no possible way Squall wasn't going to take full advantage of a clean bill of health and the lifting of his Silence. Even without Summoning, he could feel Shiva's presence more strongly. He'd spend his time fighting in the center, using the aid of his Guardian Force in each battle, just because he could. And, she would love it.

 

**

 

With an impending click of one of the double doors to the Headmaster's office, Seifer remained seated and waited. In a padded armchair before the glossy desk, he waited for Trepe to take her seat on the other side.

 

The blond noted the meticulous organization of the desktop. When he'd first arrived, Squall had been on the other end with a gaunt and sickly looking face, and the desk had been littered with piles of papers. Not that the brunet was disorganized, but most likely wasn't too concerned with carefully separated files and forms after six months of mind numbing labor.

 

Somehow Trepe's heals managed to click, if only a bit muffled, on the carpeted floor. He could feel the tense air. There was a furious gleam to her sky blue eyes, he'd seen it the moment she turned the corner and called him away.

 

Considering she was the one who had drawn up the conditions of his contract as Squall's bodyguard, explicitly stating that he was to keep an eye on the Commander at all times, it must have been a serious affair for her to draw him away from duty.

 

Though, he couldn't exactly say his time with Squall felt much like a duty anymore. It never really had, not even when he was desperately searching through Dollet. That had been a lover's desperation, there was nothing platonic about it. In fact, there was little feeling within himself for the Balamb Lion that could be considered platonic. Desire, lust, passion, and more recently, love. There were many ways in which he felt for Squall, none of which would be appropriate in maintaining professionalism.

 

As Quistis moved across the room, trying to mask her seething anger, she schooled her expression to look as intimidating to the blond knight as possible.

 

Leaning against the desk with her arms crossed, she looked down upon the bemused man who seemed none the wiser to why she'd called him in here. The blond certainly had a knack for stirring up trouble. Dollet had seen more action on a few days than in its entire history, and she had more than a sneaking suspicion that Seifer being there had something to do with it.

 

Adjusting her glasses, knowing the light glinted off them in a manner that shielded her enraged eyes from view, she spoke, “Sixteen bullets, nine grazing wounds. Knee caps shot, but not before having been popped out of place. Elbows shot, but not before being bent backwards. Feet mangled beyond recognition, five fingers broken with the other five missing completely. No right ear, blinded by what appears to have been a shot of rock salt to the face, tongue cut out, massive bruising to the groin, and more than fifteen percent of his body was covered by burns.”

 

Seifer sat impassively, mentally ticking off each of wounds he remembered giving. When the young woman looked at him sternly as if expecting him to speak he gave her an innocent shrug. When that didn't seem to be sufficient he said, “Did they happen to say how many ribs were broken, or teeth missing?”

 

Stricken, Quistis stared in horror. She hadn't for a moment suspected Seifer's direct involvement. Perhaps a mix up with the clan known as Hollow's Knights, but she didn't think the blond could have had anything to do with Larkner's actual death. “You,” she began but faltered. Swallowing, she found her resolve. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

 

“I left no traces leading back, so I assume you have something the police didn't. Don't worry your pretty little head about it Trepe. The police wanted the guy dead almost as much as I did. They won't do anything about it.”

 

“Seifer!” she cried, her tone somewhere between outrage and disbelief. “Do you mean to tell me, that you brutally tortured and murdered this man?” When the green-eyed knight gave no response to the contrary, she sat fully on the desk and placed hand to her head. Mumbling to herself she said, “Definitely not an innocent life, but the manner in which it was done….”

 

“Don't doubt that he didn't deserve it,” Seifer stated, becoming serious.

 

“I want you out of here,” Quistis abruptly said, her head snapping up. “I cannot believe you could ever be capable of such a thing. This was murder, brutal and cold blooded.”

 

Clenching his jaw, Seifer stood. Taking a step towards an unflinching temporary Headmistress, he made his standing clear. “I'm not leaving. Void the contract all you like. Squall has the last say, and he won't kick me out.”

 

“Well, he doesn't know about-”

 

“He does,” Seifer stated, cutting her off.

 

Wide eyed, Quistis rubbed her temple. Swallowing thickly again, she took a steadying breath. Her eyes searched the carpet below as if the answers would present themselves in writing for her there. “You, Squall, Irvine, Selphie, and the new cadet were in Dollet for thirty-two hours. Within that time frame, the yakuza leader Jeremiah Larkner and Tracy Yamada, his right hand assassin, were killed. There are at least five members of this underground gang that are dead, from some security breech.” She made a presenting gesture as if to say, `these are the facts'.

 

His face was an uncommon mask, betraying no emotion. “I suppose I went a little overboard, but as you said, not an innocent life. None of those men were in Hyne's good graces.”

 

“What the hell have you been doing? Do you have any idea what this could do to Balamb Garden, to Squall?” she said, her voice rising in distress.

 

“Jeremiah Epson Larkner was Squall's stalker. It was unofficial business in Dollet, so I don't have to explain shit. I like you Trepe, really I do, but if you hound Squall on this, I will stop you. Drop it, this whole…” he raised his brows, drawing her attention to his eyes, “…is over,” he finished.

 

Gaping for a moment, Quistis searched those frighteningly cold green eyes. First she finds out that Seifer, who she had known as a little boy, was capable of something she'd only ever associated with the cruelest and most coldhearted killers, and then he speaks as though threatening her. “Seifer,” she began, at a loss.

 

Softening his eyes, he took a step back. He hadn't meant to frighten her, just make it clear that she wasn't to go around pestering his charge about something he obviously wanted kept secret. “Garden wasn't involved, so you don't have to make this your problem.”

 

Still in a state of shock, Quistis regarded Seifer with hurt eyes. She felt like she didn't know the man at all. “I thought I knew you,” she breathed out, dismayed and feeling almost betrayed.

 

With a calm smile Seifer said, “There is only one person who knows Trepe. The rest of you just like me cause I'm sexy.”

 

Unable to contain a snort of laughter, Quistis allowed herself to chuckle. It helped, even if it felt wildly out of place given the gravity of her discovery. “I assume you're talking about Squall?”

 

“Yeah,” Seifer replied softly.

 

“So, this guy was Squall's stalker?” she questioned, willing to at least put the event behind them and not speak of it. The tall knight gave a nod. Biting the inside of her cheek, she couldn't help but question the reasoning. “I know you're supposed to protect the Commander, but why….” She tried to find the right words.

 

“Why did I go overboard?” he supplied for her.

 

“To put it mildly,” she intoned seriously.

 

“I had a very short period of time in which to make the bastard pay. If you think that was over kill, then you should have seen what I would have done if given a few days.” Inwardly, Seifer sighed at the crestfallen expression on the instructor's face. Still, he'd always been an honest man, so he spoke his peace, “I did it out of rage, anger, hate, and a few other not so pleasant feelings. He got too close to Squall. I simply showed him the consequences of touching what wasn't his.”

 

Quistis waited a moment, until she was certain her voice wouldn't fail. “It almost sounds as you think he was touching something that belonged to you.” Gulping, she waited. Honestly, she felt as thought a big part of her world had just been turned upside down.

 

Chuckling, Seifer smiled brightly at her. Trepe seemed to find his expression assuring and even managed to give a small smile in return, though hers was hesitant and unsure. “That's because he did,” Seifer said, watching the delayed faltering of the instructor's smile.

 

“What do you mean?” Quistis questioned, an apprehensive understanding was forming in the back of her mind, but nothing clear enough for her to comprehend. It was more a sneaking suspicion that she couldn't even give voice to.

 

“I don't kiss and tell Trepe,” Seifer chastised while checking his watch. “I believe I've been gone too long already.” Walking to the door, he smoothly opened it. Before he could take another step, however, he remembered something important. “Remember not to bother Squall about this. I don't need his head filled with guilt over anything I've done.”

 

**

 

Panting, Squall wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve. Sticking Lionheart into the ground, he leaned against the makeshift cane. Stubbornly, he'd continued to fight regardless of his sore muscles and the acute pain in his lower back.

 

He'd missed the blurring flash of his swinging blade, and the adrenaline that came when facing off with a surprise enemy of a high level. Shiva was cheering merrily, loving the constant summoning.

 

However, he knew when to call it quits. Tired to the point of collapsing, he smiled while struggling to stand up straight. Sheathing his blade, he staggered towards the locker room. If he showered off there, then he could soak in the hot tub afterwards, and at that moment it seemed like an excellent idea. He could relax in solitude. It was days like these that he was most grateful for classes detaining each student.

 

Just before he could walk through the door, he felt the unmistakable presence of Seifer. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, and pulled him back against a hard chest. The way he was practically lifted off his feet gave his body much needed relief from holding itself up.

 

With the soft pull of tape, the bandage on his neck was disposed of. Before he could object, warm lips were attached to the spot that had been covered. Part of Squall wanted to reprimand the blond knight, and tell him not to do these things in a public place, but as he felt the gentle nibbling of teeth, such cautions fled his mind.

 

“You're sweaty,” Seifer breathed huskily.

 

“I've been fighting, I need a shower,” he replied.

 

“That's not a bad idea,” Seifer said with a grin, hefting the brunet's smaller form into his arms before carrying him into the locker room.