Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Bloodcross Key: Arc 2: Reversals ❯ Part 3 ( Chapter 3 )

********* Part 3:

       Surrounded by blackness, eyes were watching him, piercing his soul. Golden eyes he knew too well. Horrible eyes which were a constant reminder of his weakness, his failure; Of a dream twisted and defiled in his a passion to make it reality; a dream used to twist and defile him into someone even he didn't recognize; Someone who destroyed his other dream, or very nearly; a dream he dared not speak or hope or pursue, but a dream he held closest to his heart.

        The eyes were vicious and accusing, demanding a devotion he could never give. And she knew. So she tormented him, testing his loyalty and her control. And he always failed. But in his failure she still won, a fact that had amused her enough to keep him alive. What better punishment for rebellion and disloyalty than for him to suffer with the knowledge that regardless of his heart, it's desire would hate him. Would want him dead. Or worse yet, would believe he hated in return.

        But the yellow eyes dimmed. He had thought he would be haunted by them forever. Had thought the pain and guilt they drowned him in could never deepen. He was wrong. Soul-searingly wrong.

        Hundreds of eyes were watching him, piercing his soul. Eyes of innumerable colors he also knew too well. Wretched, lust and hate-filled eyes which were a constant reminder of his weakness, his failure, his guilt; Of a new dream, to make amends for the crimes of the old, used and twisted to defile him; Used to destroy all that had remained of his soul, his most treasured dream.

        But the eyes continued to violate him, followed by hundreds of groping, grasping hands on his naked flesh. Filthy slithering hands. Filthy like his soul. Fondling and pulling and clawing and hurting. He would scream, but the laughter would drown him. He would struggle, but he knew he deserved it. He would weep, but the tears no longer came.

        Then the blackness dimmed, though the eyes remained. Black faded to gray, faded to white, then bloomed with vibrant red; Red like the blood shed in the name of a dream; Red like the cross that punished him.

        "Seifer?"

        "Can you hear me, Mr. Almasy?

        Seifer groaned. The image faded, melting into the bright red assaulting his eyes. He blinked, his lashes fluttering against the even brighter haze-white flickering his vision. A warm hand grasped his wrist, holding it for several uncertain breaths, then rested it gently on something soft and cool. Where was he? His prison had never smelled so clean and medicinal. Nor did its light have the warm tinge of the sun, though the strange unnatural white was very similar.

        He tried to open his eyes completely and sit up, but his body found the combination too complex and he only managed to turn his head. A pillar of white met his slitted gaze, then the pillar moved.

        "How are you feeling?" A quite, familiar voice asked in a practiced tone.

        How was he feeling? Like a T-Rexaur's favorite kick-toy. He shielded his eyes with his wobbly arm and tried to focus. Something felt familiar, but he couldn't place it.

        "It`s alright," the voice spoke again. "If you're not ready to talk, don't push it. You've been unconscious for several days and your body's going to need time to adjust."

        A hand patted his, then was gone.

        "Here. Try to drink." His head was gently lifted and a straw placed against his lips. "It's just water, but drink slowly."

        As he silently obeyed, drawing a sip of water into his dry, itchy throat, flashes of memory bombarded his mind. Flashes of other things placed against his lips. Of foul flesh, blood, filth, cold metal, sharp-edged blades, of things so much more repulsive. He choked, falling into a fit of dry heaves and violent trembling.

        Hands shoved him onto his side, patting his back in soothing circles.

        "Now, now. Calm down. It`s okay. Just take deep, slow breaths and you`ll be okay."

        His fingers curled in the cool sheet pooled around him as he gasped for air, trying to bring the spasms under control. As his stomach continued to painfully lurch, he clenched his eyes tightly until blue-white sparkles burst over the images playing endlessly in his mind. His face ached, as did his entire body, but in a more immediate intensity that strangely managed to calm him.

        "W...wh...ere...?" he croaked in a raspy whisper, his body still trembling. Let it be anywhere but that room. Anywhere!

        "Shhh. Wait until we've gotten some more liquids in you before you talk." The hands on his back shifted to his shoulder and helped ease him back against something soft. "You're in the infirmary."

        Infirmary? They had never taken him there before. Didn't know they had one. Always just sent that girl in to heal him when he collapsed. She was nice, even if a bit cold. But cold was nice. Better than cruel.

        "Squall brought you here three days ago. Do you remember?"

        Squall? Seifer clutched his head, fingers threading through his short hair. Squall? Remember? What was there to remember, other than...

        He slowly opened his eyes, the white light not as glaring as before. A white sheet draped across his legs in wrinkling peaks and valleys around him, flowing into smoothness at the foot of a bed. A familiar bed. His gaze darted to the side to where the voice seemed to come. More white, but also familiar as the details sharpened. A lab coat. Doctor Kadowaki?

        Could he dare hope? His eyes stung with tears which couldn't form, an ache in his throat rising into a soft whimper. Garden! Home. He was home!

        His mind slowly wound itself around a faint memory buried under the clinging foul muck of his life. Squall. Beautiful Squall, dark and shining, with an angel's pale face. He had been there, in Seifer`s hell, his prison. And... and he..

        ~"If you don't shut up and get your ass out of here, I will drag you out of here myself!"

        Squall, why? Why?
 

******

        Squall paced, the squeak of leather in counter-rhythm to the patter of his boots across the white tiled floor. Three-hundred and ten and three-quarters. The tile in the far corner looked to have a piece cut from it for the pipe running up the wall. Damn, he was tired of waiting. What was Kadowaki doing, performing brain-surgery? Turn.

        He sighed. Too bad Raijin, and Fujin, weren't there. At least then, he would have someone to talk to. Well, in principle. Hell, he was nervous enough, and bored enough, to actually talk, if someone had been with him. Turn.

        Nervous? What did he have to be nervous about? Seifer was safe, and the Doc said physically he would be fine, once he finished getting his strength back. But that was it: `physically'. What about the rest? Would Seifer be Seifer? Like in his dreams? Turn.

        He groaned. His dreams. The dreams he continued to have every night since they brought Seifer home. How much of that Seifer did he hope for? How much of that Seifer should he hope for? After all Seifer had been through, was it right to want him that way? Wouldn't he be as terrible as those who hurt the already shattered blond? Wouldn't he being taking advantage? Turn.

        And more confusing, why the hell was he thinking about Seifer that way at all, or at least dreaming about him? Though, he had to admit the dreams effects lingered after he woke, and it concerned him. He should have been thinking about Rinoa, his girlfriend, not Seifer. But, he had realized after the second dream, it wasn't actually sexual. It was beyond that, entering into something, somewhere more vital, somewhere deeper. Pause. Turn.

        He wanted to just ignore it, like he did everything that troubled him, that upset stability and control. However, the thought of ignoring it upset his control even more. He couldn't ignore Seifer again. Losing him from a distance hurt just as much, left him just as empty, as losing someone close, like Sis. Honestly, losing Seifer hurt more. Or maybe the years and Guardian Forces had managed to haze the pain of losing Sis. Whatever, it still hurt. And it tore his soul to pieces knowing what Seifer had suffered. Alone.

        Squall stopped pacing. He couldn't stand waiting anymore! It had to be at least an hour, or more, he'd been pacing. Fuck it!

        "To hell with this waiting shit!"

        His heart thumping wildly in his ears, he stalked to the door. After quietly opening it, he peered anxiously inside; And froze.
 

*********
(end part 3)
(tbc)
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