Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Protecting the Lion ❯ A Helping Hand ( Chapter 45 )

Chapter Forty-Five

A Helping Hand

 

Time seemed to have stopped flowing, or at least slowed down to an unnerving crawl.

 

Squall didn't know how he'd known about the shot, it was just one of those gut instinct things that SeeD so often had. Perhaps it had been because of Irvine. The gunman had been on edge, darting glances around the nearby buildings, as though there was something concealed in one of those darkened and seemingly vacant windows.

 

That was likely the reason. Watching the sniper's senses react to some unseen sensor clued him in. And from the warning signs, his subconscious had worked out the best strategy from the assassin's viewpoint. The alarm bells had gone off at the exact moment he would have planned to be the perfect shot.

 

Out in the open, they'd surely been asking for some nut case to attempt some crazy kamikaze scheme. Whoever pulled the trigger, or managed to injure President Loire would wind up dead or indefinitely confined.

 

It was supposed to have been a simple parade. Planned by Selphie as a rising climax to the fireworks display.

 

Balamb Garden had uprooted and settled in Esthar. The final week of the winter festival began with a christening ceremony for the new port that allowed Gardens, specifically Balamb, to reach Esthar without the aide of an airship or the long trek from Fisherman's Horizon.

 

The ridiculous float, which was painfully bright in Squall's opinion, had carried Esthar's President and himself around the technologically advanced city.

 

Considering that the people of Esthar had been the most cautious when it came to any matter related to a sorceress, there was little uproar about a sorceress' knight standing beside the President's son. While it was a surprising reaction, no one was complaining, least of all Squall.

 

Adverse to the idea in the first place, the only reason Squall agreed to ride the eye-catching contraption was to show Laguna how he felt, since he couldn't vocalize his feelings. Surely the goofball of a president would know he cared if he went along with Selphie's plans without complaint.

 

However, in his experience, parades ended badly. The odd sense of déjà vu was not something he could disregard as something solely from past experiences. And, with Irvine on edge, his gray-blue eyes were scanning every shadowing corner for something awry.

 

The thought that Laguna might not have been the target did cross his mind, but it just seemed the most likely conclusion. While he had his own share of enemies, the media had somehow spun the story on the Esthar-Balamb Treaty. The general focus was on President's Loire's extortion of the young and impressionable Commander, who just so happened to be a long lost son in search of the father he'd never had.

 

So, the general concern when setting the guard around the float's pathway had been that some fanatic would try to exterminate Laguna because of the treaty. Seifer was there for his own protection, while Kiros was there for his father's.

 

It was within the momentary suspension of time that Squall couldn't register the weight against his back.

 

A piercing shot had rung through the air, but even before that, he'd moved to block Laguna from view. It had been instinctive, and probably incredibly stupid, but there was no changing it.

 

Sprawled on the level ground of the float, Squall and his father lay in a heap. Precariously close to the edge, the second thing the brunet noticed aside from the weight against his back was the panicked crowd nearby.

 

And then, another shot rang through the air. Irvine had taken a mark and reacted swiftly, everything going happening in only a matter of seconds even if it felt like an eternity.

 

The second sound of a gun being used jolted Squall back to reality. No longer running on instinct, he shifted to sit up quickly. The concerned and worried expression on Laguna's face registered a moment before his focus was placed elsewhere.

 

The movement to sit up brought the sound of a body falling to the hard wood of the float's stage like platform. Turning around swiftly, gray eyes widened at the sight of Seifer heaped unconscious.

 

Rolling the ex-knight onto his back, Squall's eyes widened further at the sight of pooling blood running beneath the tanned man's form.

 

“Shit,” he cursed. With as much care as he could spare, he turned the unconscious form over again.

 

Against the dark material of the trench coat, slick crimson could be seen. Slowly, the stain spread across the white symbol etched to the back of the garment.

 

Without thinking twice, he cast a Cure. Opening his eyes again, he wondered if the continued flow of blood was not from the wound but just a spreading stain being soaked up.

 

To confirm his question, he removed the garment, seeing a two-inch hole. For a long ranged shot, it was a rather large bullet. Even with the cure, they'd have to remove the bullet quickly.

 

The forest green shirt beneath was equally soaked, and it stuck to the tanned skin as he raised it up. To his shock, his eyes settled upon the wounded source of the blood. Fear shot through him as he saw that the bullet wound was at the upper left of Seifer's back, at the shoulder blade.

 

It must have been deeper than he'd thought, more internal damage than a single Cure could handle. Using a Curaga, he watched with abated breath to see the flesh seal closed smoothly. He could almost picture it happening, but it was all in his head. The wound remained open, bleeding freely.

 

The still beating pulse indicated that Seifer's heart was not hit, but that did nothing to explain the lack of effect the healing spells had. A Curaga would be more than enough to handle such damage.

 

Thinking quickly, Squall called out to the cowboy nearby, “Irvine, I need Holy Water!”

 

Without question, the gunman produced the small vile of clear liquid and tossed it to the frantic yet calm Commander.

 

Catching the bottle, Squall uncorked it. Oblivious to his surroundings, he continued to focus on the irrational knight who just had to play the hero.

 

Regardless of the wound, he turned Seifer over and used a Phoenix Down. When the item didn't take effect right away, he wondered whether he'd used the wrong item. However, Seifer eventually groaned and came to. Though he had the sneaking suspicion that the Phoenix Down had nothing to do with it. He tilted the man's head up and encouraged him to drink the liquid.

 

Sputtering, Seifer slowly opened his eyes. With a grin, he refused the liquid. “I think it'd go down better with mouth to mouth,” he said, still half dazed.

 

Squall refused to let the sign of Seifer's naturally cocky nature bring him relief. It was likely that Seifer would say something like that even on his deathbed.

 

Fearful at the continued loss of blood, Squall took a mouthful of the liquid and leaned down to press his lips against Seifer's. Deepening it to the blond's obvious want, he lingered until he was certain the ex-knight had swallowed. Breaking away, uncaring of the public display, he became concerned with the tangy taste of blood mixed in with unflavored Holy Water.

 

When no signs of the potion showed to have worked, he repeated the action. Without any indication that the Zombie effect had been taken care of, Squall continued this process until the whole vile was emptied.

 

At that point, it was apparent that Zombie was not the problem. But, just in case, he tried using another Curaga. The final indicator was when Seifer didn't seem negatively affected by the spell.

 

Pulling out an Elixir, he attempted to use that. Nothing worked. Following each descending order of potions, he was afraid to use too many and cause the blond to throw it up. It wouldn't have made a difference though, since none of them were working.

 

“Irvine!” he called out, his voice rising above the deafening noise from the surrounding crowd.

 

The gunman had been standing nearby, unnoticed by the Commander. “Yeah?” he drawled out in concern.

 

With lost confidence, Squall sought the gunman's help. “Why isn't magic working? It's not Zombie.”

 

“Don't worry Princess, it's nothin'” Seifer assured, his voice crackling with an increasing amount of blood seeping into his mouth.

 

“I-” Irvine began, but faltered in his answer. He'd never seen Squall so unhinged and helpless. Honestly, if Squall didn't know the answer, then neither did anyone else. “I don't know.”

 

For the first time, Squall felt fearful that there was chance Seifer might die from this. A wound like this never would have seemed lethal, not to trained mercenaries. But, that was only because they had so many ways of healing themselves to fall back on. What happened when none of that worked? They became susceptible to death from even a minor injury, just like everyone else.

 

Shaking his dark strands in desperate thought, he forced himself not to become hindered by fear. He had to think, and fast.

 

Setting Seifer's head down, he noticed that those green eyes didn't seem to be focusing on him very well. Using his blade, he cut off long strips from the discarded trench coat. Wrapping the strips as a make shift bandage, around the blond's broad torso and shoulder, Squall was grateful that First Aid had been a required course.

 

Tying it off tightly, hoping to stop as much blood flow as possible, he pressed a hand against where the wound was. When Seifer didn't respond to the pain, he turned the again unconscious man's face toward himself. Giving the firm jaw a harsh slap, he ordered, “Seifer! Wake up!”

 

When there was no response, he felt for the man's pulse again. The heart was still strumming away, though he felt rising panic at the noticeably weakened beat.

 

Turning away from the knight for the first time, Squall stood up and faced the motionless group of people around him. Everyone seemed to have rushed from his or her post and boarded the now motionless float. The noise from the receding crowd suddenly filled his ears. Glaring at the unhelpful group, he stated, “We need Dr. Odin. Selphie hurry up and take us there.”

 

“What's wrong with him?” Quistis asked, taking a tentative step forward.

 

“If I knew, I would have fixed it!” Squall spat harshly, unable to contain his erratic feelings. Turning his gaze down to the blond, he thought furiously. What was going on? It was a simple gunshot wound, why wasn't it healing? “Irvine, what sort of bullets might do this?”

 

Running a hand through auburn hair, the gunman's face contorted with concentration. “I don't know.”

 

“Laguna,” Squall called to his father. “What weapons have been developed to be used against a sorceress? What prevents magic use and the aide of potions?”

 

No one was able to supply an answer. All they could do was wait until they reach Dr. Odin, which was taking far too long. The streets were too crowded.

 

Making sure the least amount of blood was lost, Squall sat beside the knight. Checking for a pulse habitually, he was mentally cursing at his own foolishness. The shot had probably been intended for Seifer from the very beginning. The lack of uproar over Ultimecia's knight being in Esthar shouldn't have been relieving, it should have been a warning. Anybody who was seriously going to do something about the knight's presence would never have been public about it. And to think that no one in Esthar, of all places, would be opposed was ridiculous.

 

**

 

Squall sat in a waiting room. Arms folded, he balled his fists so that his nails dug into his palms. Staring blankly down at the floor, he listened to Odin's words.

 

The bullet extracted successfully, he wondered at the doctor's less than enthused expression. The operation had been dangerous considering Seifer's unstable vitals. At any given moment, the knight could have woken up, and with no more than a local anesthetic, the blond wouldn't have felt too good. Luckily, nothing like that happened.

 

However, there were complications. The amount of blood loss was due to some thinning effect the bullet had. It was apparent that the enchanted ammunition had some unknown status effects, but the thought that even Dr. Odin wouldn't know anything had never occurred.

 

The doctor expressed his own concern over not being able to procure an antidote to any time soon.

 

As the short frizzy haired man spoke in that nasally voice, Squall wondered whether any of this was real. It was surreal. The foggy haze of disbelief wouldn't lift. Everything had happened so fast, he didn't have time to think or absorb it.

 

The last time he'd been in this facility had been to rescue Rinoa from being sealed. Now, he had similar feelings of that day coursing through him. Having condemned Rinoa to a lifeless fate, he'd felt the same disbelief he did now.

 

The difference was, instead of guilt wrenching his heart, he felt sorrow. It crushed his chest, making it hard to breath, and squeezed his heart like a vice. Was this seriously happening?

 

There were two options. Neither of which he liked, but the choice was easy to make.

 

With the unknown enchantment taking effect, coursing freely through Seifer's body, there was a guarantee of death for the blond. Even with the wound stitched, blood seeped out, unable to clot. The angle of the bullet had bypassed the heart, but traveled just far enough to puncture the left lung. With internal bleeding and no way to stop it, Seifer was slowly drowning. Aside from creating a complete resistance to magic and items, the warped enchantment was poisoned. Nothing complicated or difficult about the poison, not like the blood thinning aspect. But, antidotes would work, which meant the blond's stamina was being worn away bit by bit.

 

So, one choice was to let Seifer be, while Dr. Odin tried to analyze the bullet. There was some hope in the fact that Irvine had gone back to the scene and retrieved the actual gun, but it was a slim chance. The usually confident doctor had been truthful about having to start from square one, and admitting that it could take quite a lot of time.

 

If they left Seifer as he was, then the ex-knight would die.

 

This left one other option. They could seal the blond, the same way they did a sorceress. The short man assured that it was a simple process. Apparently the doctor seemed to think Squall knew nothing about it.

 

Suspended between life and death, the body frozen, Seifer would be sealed. This would buy all the time needed. For a situation such as this, it was the best solution.

 

“Do it,” Squall answered, interrupting the white haired man's explanation on the process.

 

Falling silent, the doctor scratched his frizzy hair. “Well, you see….” he trailed off, implying that there was yet another problem.

 

“What is it?” the brunet questioned sternly.

 

Flinching slightly at the Commander's tone, the old man replied, “He refuses to be sealed.”

 

“So do it anyway. He's in not condition to make such a decision,” Squall said.

 

“He's qualified enough. His vitals are stabilized as best they're going to get, and he's shown no loss of cognitive function.”

 

“He's an idiot,” Squall assured, “Do it anyway.”

 

“Well-” the doctor began but was cut off by the President's son.

 

Standing swiftly, Squall glared down at the doctor, instilling fear. “He'll die if you don't. Do it now!”

 

“Squall,” a deep and calm voice called from the doorway on the other side of the small waiting room. Laguna walked closer, distress evident in those emotional green eyes. “Dr. Odin can't do it unless Seifer consents.”

 

Growling in distaste, Squall strode away from his approaching father toward Seifer's room. Brusquely entering, he slammed the door shut before stalking to the blond's bedside.

 

Before he even reached Seifer's side, soft and slightly gurgled chuckling reached his ears.

 

“Come to yell at me?” Seifer hissed out. The knight was finding it extremely difficult to breath, let alone speak clearly. With only one good lung, the other was practically useless.

 

“Why won't you let Odin seal you?” Squall questioned, anger evident in his tone.

 

“`Cause the doc doesn't know when I'll be revived. I can't take the chance of waking up fifty years from now,” the blond spoke solemnly.

 

Hitting the mattress with his fist, Squall asked incredulously, “So, you'd rather die?”

 

“It was good, our time together, right?” Seifer spoke vaguely, his tone rhetorical.

 

Narrowing his eyes, Squall stepped closer. “Yeah,” he mumbled. He hated how Seifer made it seem like one big reflection on the past, as though them being together had ended. As much as he wanted to yell at the arrogant and stubborn knight, he wouldn't risk such an act. From here, Seifer had nowhere to go but down hill, and he wouldn't risk speeding that up.

 

Green eyes met sorrowful blue. Such an expressive face was a rare sight on the brunet. “I'd rather die, than live in a future without you,” Seifer explained.

 

“You're an idiot!” Squall shouted. “It won't be that long. Dr. Odin might be insane, but he's a genius. With unlimited money and resources, he'll have it all figured out in a week.”

 

“No, he won't,” Seifer replied. Attempting to sit up, the blond began to cough. A fit overtook him as blood covered his lips and hand.

 

Turning to get Dr. Odin, Squall was surprised at the firmness of the hand that grabbed his wrist. Seeing the blond settle down, he returned to help him lay back. “What don't I know?” he asked. There was too much conviction in the blond's belief that it would be the distant future in which the doctor would figure out how to counter the bullet's effects.

 

“Because he's obligated to tell me the full truth. Trust me, for a man as confident in his abilities as I am in mine, he's lacking all confidence in figuring this out in less than a lifetime.”

 

“You know something,” Squall accused.

 

With a weak glare, Seifer frowned at the brunet's persistent nature. “He developed it. There is no reversing the effects.” Had Odin explained this to the Commander, there was a good chance the man wouldn't be alive.

 

“So, you're just going to die?” With a shake of his head, chocolate locks splaying at odd angles, Squall spoke with the same incredulity as before.

 

“Rather than wake up and not be able to see you, or anyone else again?” Seifer looked earnestly at the uncharacteristically emotional man. “Yeah, I am going to die.” With a scoff that sounded more like a cough, Seifer sank limply against the bed. “To think I'd go down so easy. I don't even get to fight the asshole who shot me.”

 

“You're an idiot!” Squall yelled. Head bowed, he clutched the blanket that covered half the man's form. “Why the hell did you get in the way!?”

 

“Hey,” Seifer soothed. Green eyes widened at the first traces of tears that ran down pale cheeks. “Squall, don't cry.” Bewildered, the knight was at a loss. Reaching out, he tugged at a slim wrist.

 

Watered blue eyes snapped up in realization. “What if we're both sealed?” Squall questioned hopefully, his tearful eyes lighting up.

 

Not responding, Seifer directed the brunet to come closer.

 

Resistant, Squall protested, “You're in no shape.”

 

“Leonhart, get in this fucking bed before I overexert myself trying to force you,” Seifer demanded.

 

Reluctantly, Squall crawled carefully to lie beside the knight. With the new prospect of being sealed together, Squall rubbed at his cheeks with blushing shame. He hadn't cried since he was four years old, and even then he didn't think he'd had any excuse.

 

“I have to tell Dr. Odin,” the brunet reasoned. The faster they did it, the better condition Seifer would be in when they were revived.

 

Directing the stubborn lion's head to lay against his chest, Seifer pressed his lips to the Commander's soft hair. “No,” he answered, both to Squall leaving to get the doc and to the idea of them both being sealed.

 

“Seifer!” Squall cried, realization setting in for the first time. Leaning up, he stared into adamant green eyes. “This isn't happening,” he whispered in disbelief.

 

“Hey Princess, do you think it's easy for me to accept?” Seifer retorted. As his lungs protested his continued speech, he forced himself to take a long and steady breath. Odin said it would less than an hour before he'd be unable to breath. Slowly but surely, his lung was filling up and the poison was burning his body. If he'd been any less of a fighter, he wouldn't have made it through the surgery.

 

“But you have,” Squall accused. He was unable to grasp how the cocky blond could seem so accepting of his eminent death. `This isn't happening,' his mind repeated over and over.

 

“Will you stay here?” Seifer requested.

 

Squall stared blankly, impassive as ever, as though the icy wall had been erected once again. The only betrayal of the wrenching reality settling in was the tears that once again spilled over thick lashes. He didn't want this. He didn't want any of this. This wasn't happening. It was a stupid parade, with a stupid float, and the fucking winter festival. He was in Esthar to show his father some semblance of caring feelings, not to lose the person he cared for the most. The person he loved.

 

“I love you,” Squall blurted out, his voice urgent. If this was it, then he needed Seifer to know. His heart hurt. It was beating fiercely as something seemed to be crushing it. He didn't understand it, but he seemed to know it without a doubt. “I've always loved you.”

 

“I know,” Seifer assured. Reaching out, he swiped at the freely flowing tears. “I've always known.”

 

“Then why….” Squall grasped for some reason. If they loved each other, then why was something like this happening? If he'd finally found someone, the only person he could be himself with and love like this, then why did something like this happen. Seifer couldn't be dying.

 

How many times had they declared that they would kill the other? How many times had he heard the cocky blond spouting off to senior cadets, `Careful not to kill `em, Leonhart's defeat is mine.' And, how many times had he retorted, `Almasy, I'll be sure to get teary eyed at your funeral.' The irony of a stony faced Squall ever crying over Seifer was not lost as the brunet lay beside the blond with tears streaming down his cheeks. They were kids then, but that didn't change the fact that someone else wasn't allowed to interfere like this.

 

“If anybody asks, I died valiantly protecting your pretty little ass,” Seifer joked.

 

At a loss for words, which wasn't uncommon for him, Squall buried his face against Seifer's neck. Clinging to the man, he willed the blond to get better. Something would stop it. Something always seemed to save the day at the last moment. Even if Hyne herself appeared and helped, something would happen.

 

Squall kept this mantra up, repeating it in his mind. `This wasn't happening… Something will stop it…' Never in his life had he felt so helpless. Fighting did no good. And, he wasn't some genius scientist that could find the answer.

 

With his ear pressed against the knight's chest, he listened to the congested breathing and the slowing beat of the heart. His mantra changed. `I love him,' he repeated, as though affirming this would be the solution.

 

Even to the very last beat, Seifer never seemed to release the hold on his body. Furled closely, he huddled warmly against the blond. The fact that the man was dying just wouldn't set in. Though he didn't seem able to stop crying, perhaps the tears had been building for fourteen years. And, the pain in his chest wouldn't go away. It was hurting more with each slowing beat of Seifer's heart.

 

Willing the whole situation not to be happening, Squall rested beside Seifer as though they were in bed on any other night. Having slept with each other every night for over a month, it was second nature. Now, Squall found himself drifting, seeking the comfort that only Seifer brought. Even as it became apparent that his body was the only one providing warmth, he remained. No one came in, they were left undisturbed.

 

At some point, his tears dried up. He began to whisper Seifer's name, just like he did so often in the middle of the night. Regardless of the fact that the blond had never before left him sleeping alone, he'd often call out just to reassure himself that Seifer was still there. He kept repeating the name, because unlike the other times, the protective knight didn't stir immediately and tighten the warm hold of strong arms. It wasn't like Seifer to be such a heavy sleeper, but he didn't stop. One of these times, Seifer would have to wake up and respond.

 

It became cold. It wasn't the usual feeling that he enjoyed from a crisp wind or when visiting Shiva. It was hollow, and painful. It was cold. The absence of heat, the absence of Seifer. What had gone wrong? Why was this happening? The easiest thing to do was to refuse to believe any of it. If he scrunched his eyes closed, and remained close enough, then the warmth would return and none of this would have happened.

 

“My lion,” the mournful voice of the Ice Queen echoed.

 

Refusing to open his eyes, Squall didn't move. Never mind the slack hold of Seifer's arms, or the fact that he couldn't hear the strumming heart in that toned chest. Whatever happened to that corny theme in Rinoa's romance novels, love conquering all?

 

“Open your eyes,” Shiva's voice spoke again with the same sad tone.

 

Squall remained still, afraid to shatter his insane conclusions by seeing the truth.

 

“My lion, I'm sorry,” his Guardian apologized. “Open your eyes, it isn't real.”

 

“No,” Squall muttered, curling impossibly closer to the lame form beside him.

 

“I didn't realize… your love. Please little one, open your eyes,” Shiva pleaded.

 

At the sad urgency in Shiva's voice, Squall was tempted, but in the end he refused.

 

“Squall,” the unmistakable baritone voice of Seifer called.

 

Gray-blue eyes snapped open. His senses were thrown as his eyes saw something completely unexpected. The room was dark, no light from any source but the pale moon. Concerned green eyes were what caught his attention the most. The sudden flush of warmth made his breath hitch.

 

His heart beat more wildly against the imaginary vice. His chest heaved painfully, as his mind flooded with hope. A dream? He didn't dream, not ever. Recalling Shiva's words, he realized the Guardian had played some sick joke on him.

 

“Hey,” Seifer cooed, a deep frown settled in. With a calloused thumb, he reached out to swipe tears from Squall's moist cheeks. “What's wrong?” he questioned. The day he saw Squall crying was the day he died.

 

“I-” Squall floundered for a suitable explanation. Uncaring of his tears, he wondered if this was a dream also. Clenching his jaw, he fought the surge of emotions that threatened to overpower him. Swallowing thickly, he refused to cry like a four-year-old little boy. Instead, he latched onto the idea that Shiva had over stepped her boundaries and none of it had happened. Throwing himself closer, his arms wrapped around Seifer's neck. From the warmth, to the steady pulse, he wallowed in relief. “I love you,” he said, his voice muffled against the man's skin.

 

Seifer tensed under the brunet's desperate hold. The younger man had been unusually fitful in his hold. Waking up, he'd been disturbed to find Squall squirming closer instead of away with tears pouring from closed eyes. He'd felt alarm when the sleeping lion hadn't woken up right away. And when those soft lips parted to form his name, repeating it like some sorrowful prayer, he'd begun to shake the boy awake.

 

Now, awake, Squall seemed bewildered, as though expecting to have woken up alone or beside somebody else. There was a moment of jealousy, where he wondered just who Squall thought should be laying next to him. But, it left as soon as the lithe form hugged him.

 

The blond's heart skipped a beat when he heard the muffled words of the brunet. Forcing the pale boy off him, he sat up and held Squall out at arms length. “What?” he asked, wanting to hear the words clearly.

 

“I love you,” Squall said again, without hesitation. Unblinking, he squirmed from Seifer's hands and moved closer. Pressing his lips to the stunned blond's, he kissed the ex-knight.

 

Breaking away for a moment, Seifer affirmed, “For now, I won't ask.” With that, he pulled the brunet to himself roughly and plundered that sweet mouth. For a man who had recently not known if he was capable of love, Seifer was beyond elated that Squall now spoke those words with absolute truth.