Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Homecoming ❯ Part 3 ( Chapter 3 )
Non Anime: Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Adventure / Angst / Romance | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.15.2002 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 243 | Status: Work In Progress
Also, I'm toying with a few usually assumed perspectives on certain game elements. I thought they would be interesting; One being a new angle on the `was Seifer mind-controlled or willing?' debate. That's about as much as I can reveal of both my motivations and the plot.
Disclaimer: Squaresoft owns FF8 and it's characters, not me. I'm just having fun with them.
Warnings:Yaoi, angst (always), foul language, possible violence/graphic violence.
Pairing: Seifer/Squall (Just trust me on this one.)
Comments and criticism are welcome.
E-mail:neemeister@home.com
Homecoming
By Lady Tempest
Part 3:
Self-preservation provided an incredible and desperate store of energy. Well past sundown, Seifer drove himself beyond the weariness sapping his body even to his bones. Ache overlapped ache overlapped ache. But until the bright white glow of the Airstation was a tiny, distant dot, he couldn't stop. No matter that he had been on his feet since a few hours after dawn. No matter that his wounds still stung, and throbbed, and itched. Even, no matter that his shoulder burned like a raging fire. Stopping, resting. was not an option he could afford to take.
His steps stumbling shuffles, he dragged himself onward. The light behind him was about the size of his fist. Seifer still needed to push a little further, just a little longer. Just a little longer. Just a...
Bright, glaring red assaulted his closed eyes. With a groan, he woke, his pale lashes flickering in the bombarding light of the sun. He lifted his head from the dry, scratchy ground, dirt and dust and grass clinging to the sweat and blood staining his cheek. Taking a deep breath and a reflexive swallow, he suddenly broke into a fit of coughs, his throat so parched his tongue nearly stuck to the roof of his mouth.
The coughing shook his body, each spasm shooting pain from his shoulder to the ends of his every nerve. Fumbling into his coat pocket, Seifer grasped for the water-flask. Between coughs he tried to steady it to his lips, then downed the little remaining of the lukewarm water. But it was enough to soothe his throat and his convulsing lungs.
He eased himself upright, the searing pain in his shoulder clamping his eyes shut and quickening his breath. Once the pain subsided, his head lolled back and he stared straight upward to the pale gray-white clouds.
Shit! What a mess! Lost in the middle of nowhere. Well, scratch that, in the middle of fucking Esthar! Seifer glanced down at the flask lying between his sprawled legs. Picking it up and giving it a quick shake, he sighed.
Out of fucking water. Tired... No. Damn fucking tired! Apparently so damn fucking tired he didn't remember when he had stopped last night to sleep. Shot. He grimaced as he threaded his gloved finger through the hole in his trenchcoat. Shot by a fucking lunatic in the middle of fucking nowhere, or fucking Esthar, or fucking whatever. He didn't give a shit where he was anymore except that it wasn't home! And if all that wasn't enough to completely and totally fucking piss him off, nutjob number two ruined his coat. Talk about having a shitty day. He couldn't imagine anything could possibly make it any worse.
Yet once more, he continued on, keeping the sun`s westward path always to his left. There was no way he was going to let some never-ending plain, a hot sun, or a loon in a uniform defeat him. No one defeated him. Not even Squall. Although the gloomy little bastard came close a few times. Unconsciously, Seifer rubbed at the scar between his eyes, faintly wistful.
But as always, their duels ended in a draw. It would almost irritate him if he hadn't expected anything less from Squall Leonhart. Seifer smirked. They were two of a kind and Seifer wouldn't have it any other way.
Before he realized it, Seifer was standing on the crest of a rocky hill. He hadn't noticed the slow incline until he was at the top of it, the slope so gradual it had felt like even land until it no longer was. He blinked, then let a slow grin spread across his handsome face.
To the west, A vast ocean lay before him, and when he squinted, he could see a thin white line, wavering in the distant haze, spanning the blue-gray.
Licking his dry lips, Seifer shook his head. "'Water, water everywhere, yet not a drop to drink'," he muttered wryly. "Well, at least I'm closer to home."
He slid down the hillside to the rocky beach, anxious for a good soak to at least marginally wash away the dirt and sweat and blood clinging to him and his clothes. As he neared the ocean in a stuttered run, Seifer tugged off his gloves, flinging them to the pebbled beach. Alternating a somehow graceful one-legged hop, his boots soon followed, landing with a thump near the gloves.
Without a second thought, he surged past the foamy waves lapping the shore, his coat buffeted by the strong sea-breeze then quickly gone limp, water soaking from hem to hip in darkening gray. Bursting in an energy his weary body had thought exhausted, Seifer dove, smiling, into the deepening waves. The sunlight sparkled and glowed as stained glass, dancing through shades of blue and gray, like Squall's eyes, while the water swept over him. The cool of the ocean, after the constant dry heat, was refreshing, despite the salt of the ocean stinging his wounds. Oddly, it even was somehow soothing, a bite that relieved through pain.
Seifer broke from the water, a rain of glittering silver flying around him as he shook his dripping-wet hair. Slicking both hands through the tousled gold, he trudged back to the shore, sand tickling and squishy under his toes. His soaked clothing hung heavily on him, clinging to his skin like liquid, leaving little of his form hidden, hardened nipples as apparent as if he had been shirtless.
His shoulder throbbed and ached, yet the salty pain-salve of the ocean subdued the intensity by its own. Renewed, Seifer snatched up his boots and gloves and continued onward.
Following the coastline, Seifer soon approached a make-shift village, more like a haphazard collection of half a dozen shacks huddled together far enough from the shore to not be affected by the tide. At least a quarter of a mile further on led to a tighter cluster of sturdier buildings surrounding the Esthar end of Fisherman's Horizon.
Tiny battered boats floated along the shoreline tethered to a rundown dock, floorboards broken in many places or rotted. A pair of giggling children splashed and played in the foamy water crashing onto the beach.
Seifer smiled and approached an older woman sitting on a wooden crate, mending a net. Hopefully he would have better luck with her sanity than the last people he had dealt with over the past few days. Well, third time's the charm.
"Hello, Ma'am," he said with a sweeping bow.
The woman looked up at him, confusion further wrinkling her weathered features, then gave him a friendly smile. "Hello, young man."
"I'm trying to get to Balamb Garden..."
"Balamb? You're rather far."
Far? Well, only if one considered walking for three days to get where he was and still have some distance to go `far'? Of course he was far from home! Why did everyone find it necessary to point out the damn obvious?
"Yes, I am. I was hoping I could get there by one of the boats." Seifer gestured casually towards the dock.
"Oh. You live in Balamb?"
"Yeah, Garden. I'm trying to get home, and to see my sweetheart," he said softly, his eyes smiling, shining with an inner light.
"Oh! You dear boy." The old woman set aside her mending and grasped his black-gloved hand, patting it warmly. "So many young men so far from home. Horrible war. Terrible things that sorceress did. Thank Hyne it's over. My Ergin should be back any day now himself. He's in the Esthar army, you know."
Oh, great! Another nutcase! Yet, he could pity the poor woman, living in the past.
"Such a good boy. I couldn't ask for a better grandson."
Grandson? Grandson! The fucking war was seventeen years ago! There was no way she was old enough to have had a grandson in the war. Poor crazy old woman. Not only was she so out of her mind she had no fucking clue what day or even what year it was, but she was delusional as well.
He was starting to think he had somehow entered one of the stories Matron used to tell where some silly girl stumbled into a strange other-world where everyone was insane. Matron would always look at him with confused amusement as he'd burst into giggles when the Red Queen entered the story. Crazy as the queen was, she was funny. 'Off with their heads!' He suppressed a reflective snicker.
However, childhood memories weren`t getting him any closer to home and eventually, his love. "Uh, ma'am. I'll need a boat to get me back..."
"Oh... oh... of course! Talk to Joe, by the dock, and tell him I said to take you to Balamb."
"Thank you, ma'am." Wow! He was getting damn good at diplomacy. If Cid could see him... He could work with others just fine. Even loonies. Problem student, his ass!
"But first..." Rising, the old woman hobbled towards the door of her tiny house. "...Come inside and have some tea and a bite to eat. You look hungry, young man," she said with a grandmotherly tone. "When was the last time you ate? And you look an mess. The war must've been really hard on you."
Well, she might be crazy, but she was nice. And more importantly, not trying to shoot him. That was always a plus. Besides, it was just more proof of the Almasy charm. What woman could resist him? Seifer grinned. "Thank you."
The journey from the outskirts of Fisherman's Horizon to the shores of Balamb was uneventful and mostly silent. For much of the trip only the roar of wind, splash and churn of waves, and the metallic hum of the motorboat broke the quiet. Seifer was anxious to be home, his thoughts a scramble of excitement, joy, and relief to finally be back where he belonged and hopefully soon with whom he belonged. And would belong for ever.
Apparently, his pilot, Joe, recognized his wistful mood, as the man said little, except when they first started out. He seemed a quiet guy anyway.
The wind ruffled Seifer's hair as he stared onward to the island looming ahead. First a haze of green among the blue-gray sky, Balamb slowly took form. Home. He was almost home.
With a wide grin he finally stepped onto Balamb's shore, the blue sky tinting pink. He turned and waved to Joe, the one person he had met who hadn't been crazy. But then, maybe he just hadn't talked to him enough to find out otherwise. Wouldn't be surprising anymore the way his past several days had been.
"Thanks," Seifer said as he absently combed through his windblown hair with his fingers and extended his other hand in farewell. "You have no idea what I've been through to get here. I'd pay you, but..."
Joe took his offered hand and shook it. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing to help someone who helped fight against the sorceress."
Seifer blinked. Well, maybe he could be surprised after all.
He entered Balamb Town with a pleased, although weary, sway to his long, elegant stride and a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. In all his dreams of knightly adventure, he would have never thought he could be so happy to see the familiar sights of home. Or near home. Quaint stone houses lining the main street which led into town, the inn on the hill, the cry of gulls circling over the docks, even the tang of gasoline from the garage, all unexpectedly welcome.
While he passed through town, townsfolk gazed at him, stunned expressions on their faces, or pointed and whispered with their friends. As much as he enjoyed the attention, he had a strange sense of anxiety. He had always wanted to be admired, for his bravery and strength, though not to discount his good-looks. But he had yet to achieve his dream and since he also had yet to make SeeD, honestly, he couldn't understand what he had done to cause such interest when only a few days ago it hadn't existed.
Oh! Damn! Must be the Deling thing again. He figured that certainly would cause a bit of a stir. Well, at least he had no worries of getting mobbed in Balamb. No one would have much sympathy toward President Deling.
Seifer sighed. Although Garden might not be so happy about it. But he had done what he thought was right, even if it had gotten all screwed up. And... Fuck! Chicken-wuss hadn't helped by blabbing about them being from Balamb Garden. Idiot! Well, he couldn't be held accountable for someone else's stupidity.
Seifer suddenly stopped, his blue-green eyes wide. What... what if... He ran to the west gate, his body straining under the exhaustion of the last several days but dread driving him in spite of it.
In the distance, a large building loomed, its sunset colors darkening with the sky. He smiled like a fool. Seifer had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Well, except...
Garden was safe and that was all that really mattered.
As he neared Balamb Garden the sky had become a deep violet-blue. He was looking forward to just collapsing into his bed and sleep for the next week. Maybe afterwards he could figure out what had happened to him and why he had been stranded in the middle of nothing. It wasn't important for the moment, he was too tired.
Finally at his destination, his body protested the abuse he'd put it through with screaming clarity. Aching, and feverish, and in pain in more places than he thought he had, he stumbled through the gates and onward to inside Garden itself, falling to his knees several times, but too exhausted to register the new pain.
Distantly, he noticed the few students wandering outside stare at him in surprise and horror. He knew he must be a terrible sight: clothes ragged, disheveled, bruised and bloody, and staggering around like he was beyond drunk. Hell, if he saw him, he might write himself up for disorderly conduct and drunkenness. Oh! And a slovenly disregard for the dress-code. Twenty demerits! He chuckled weakly, drawing more strange looks from passing students.
Dragging himself across the foyer towards the Directory, Seifer once again fell. His surroundings drifted away, his awareness constricting to a graying haze and the constant ache wringing through him. He tried to rise but his body refused, collapsing onto the cold marble. As he struggled to lift even his head from the floor, two dark, blurry figures stood suddenly frozen in the distance. One hurried to him, shouting, but all Seifer understood was tone, no words.
He blinked, the gray closing on him flickering. A hand jarred his shoulder, sending a white jolt of blinding pain through him. Another loud sound, but by the scratchy tightness in his throat he suspected it had come from him.
Warm breath ruffled against his hair, the hands moved but still on him, and more shouting, which he was certain wasn't him. Seifer blinked again, his cloudy eyes refocusing although the gray lingered. He smiled.
Standing a short distance away was the vision of his dreams, and definitely the most beautiful sight to meet his mortal eyes. The face of an angel. A goddess. His one and only love. Delicate hands clasped in worry, soft pink lips frowning with concern, sweet brown eyes wide, stood the one who made his struggle to survive worthwhile. As he drifted into the blackness of unconsciousness, one name whispered from his smiling lips: Rinoa.
(end Part 3)(tbc)
Author's End Note: Writing that last paragraph nearly made me lose my lunch and my sanity. <shudder> I'm going to have nightmares for sure!! But sometimes one has to suffer a little pain to enjoy eventual pleasure. Besides, if one pays careful attention to the last scene, I've already hinted to the cure. <smirk> But, oh the pain!!! The pain!!! <shudder> <shudder>