Disclaimer: Don’t own squaresoft or ff8. If I did, I wouldn’t be writing a fanfic, I’d be out shopping my heart out.

Chapter 1: Haunting

Life is only worth living when you find someone worth dying for.

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He looked up facing the clear blue that was the sky. If he squinted he could see lines of white light, forming a prism in every intersection. It was a warm day. He closed his eyes to feel the sun on his face and unconsciously, had lifted his arms and stretched it to both sides. Strange, his chest didn’t feel heavy. He took a deep breath. The air was humid, but light. Smells like the sea, he thought.

Then the waves came crashing to the shore and he felt its light impact on his legs. Suddenly, he heard the soothing sound of the sea, the sound he had been oblivious to, just a second ago. He looked down slowly to see the water crashing towards his boots and then rushing away again, just like a child running away after doing a mischief. The tip of his trench coat was already drenched and it clung to his legs hungrily. He lifted his foot and watched as a wave swallowed his footprint.

Funny, he thought. He had never felt so peaceful before.

His lips curved into a smile, perhaps the first smile he had in years. The beach was bringing back memories. Memories of lazy afternoons spent collecting seashells, or rather holding the basket while his sisters collected sea reminded him of the warm, fuzzy feeling of lying on the sand and feeling the white beads between his toes. Of swimming far, far away and coming home to a warm bowl of soup. His childhood. So long ago. The one that had been stolen off him…yet the same one he threw away. The one he threw away for worthless dreams and wicked short-term satisfaction.

“Seifer!”

A familiar voice.

“Seifer. What ya doin?”

Raijin.

He turned to look at his friend with a grin on his face. As expected, Fujin was with him. They ran towards him. Raijin, the big, bulky man that he is came rushing forward ever so clumsily that he knocked Seifer down and sent him flat on his butt in the water.

“IDIOT!” Fujin exclaimed giving Raijin a wallop in the head.

“Sorry, man! Didn’t mean to do it, ya know?” Raijin helped him up with one hand while rubbing the sore spot on his head with the other.

This would be the moment Seifer would go berserk but for some strange reason, he did not. The day was too good to ruin. There was something about this instance that kept him calm. There was something about this scene that was terribly wrong.

“What took ya so long?” Raijin asked. “She’s been waiting for you, ya know?”

“She?” a knot formed itself on his forehead. He lifted his gaze from the two and it fell on a certain small hut just a stretch of sand away. She was there. She was waiting for him beyond those white curtains, smiling for him. Strangely, his heart started to pound furiously in his chest.

He smiled as if he knew exactly what he was smiling about. He took a step forward and was stopped by a sharp pain in his chest. His forehead creased and he paused for a second with wonder. He quickly ignored it and moved his foot once more. With one step he felt a sharp pain in his chest and heard the ringing in his ears.

Suddenly, he was back in the dark, smelly cellar he had been dragged into. The stench of blood and sweat was blunting his already dull senses. The light bulb was swinging with a galling screeching sound.

“Glad you’re back, sleeping beauty,” he heard a hoarse voice. His head was whirling, his body ached all over, his vision was a blur. Drops of dark red trickled down his forehead saturating itself between his lashes, making it very hard to see yet painful to close his eyes. His head was pulled up by a yank on his hair, a face hovered over him.

He felt another sharp pain on his chest. That ought to break a rib or two. He didn’t know that his body had that many a part to hurt and break. He was trying his best to adapt his body to the excruciating pain.

Then he heard them.

The laughter and the cries, it echoed throughout the room. Had his hands been free, he would have covered his ears. The mockery, the taunts. Nothing he’s not used to, really, but somehow after they had rendered him unconscious for the second time, he’d been hearing voices. Familiar voices. Maybe one was even his own. The hatred, the passion was enough for his own undoing.

His crimes of three years past was haunting him again. The voices, the pleading, the cries. He had murdered them, he had laughed at their pain. He’d taken pleasure in their deaths. He was merciless, he muffled the cries, he had slaughtered them slowly and viciously. Now they’re back, back to haunt him.

They were so many. Too many. He had covered his hands with their blood. Each and every one of them. They were rummaging through his brain. They had digged and buried themselves deep. He couldn’t get them out. He can never rid himself of them. They’re inside of him. They’d never go away.

He had no wings, yet he had dreamed and had fallen. They were there to remind him of how high he climbed and how hard he fell. Of how painful it was to fall and swim in the infinite sea of failure. To swallow and choke on your own pride. To be long dead though your body still walks the earth.

Somehow, between the throbbing pain in his body and the haunting voices in his head he had screamed. He had screamed loud and wild, and furious. He had screamed till he can no longer scream. Until nature would no longer permit him.

But they’re still there.

Still.

“We’re gonna show you just what you deserve, you son of a bitch!” he heard before his vision went black again and his senses went numb.

---

She shifted on her seat. The cold metal of the chair stinging her skin through her clothes. They never make the chairs comfortable enough. She sighed. She will never get used to the feel of prison. She will never get used to the feeling of being watched. There were about half a dozen men on guard and about half the number of security cameras installed in the room. Her sweaty palms were placed on the metal table.

How strange Cid and Squall are. They give her the most absurd of assignments. She could be in a classroom right now, teaching the next military geniuses about draw points and combat strategies but they wanted her to spend the afternoon visiting the most vicious of criminals.

“Prisoner 021-032072: Almasy, Seifer” a loud voice thundered throughout the room, it was enough to make her ears ring. It woke her from her stupor. Then the faint sound of metal being lifted was heard, followed by the all too familiar sound of an automatic door opening.

“Nice to see you again, instructor,” Seifer beamed upon seeing her. He walked in with two guards at his heel. With a loud thud, Seifer found himself facing sideways, his chest pressed to the cool metal of the table, the guards carelessly taking his handcuffs off.

She found herself standing up in an instant, hands slamming on the table, “that’s a direct violation of —“

“Geez, cool it, miss. We’re not inside your classroom here,” one of the guards said, a knowing smile on his face. It wasn’t actually a secret that Quistis Trepe, heroine, was a failed instructor. She unconsciously shook her head as she slowly sat down again.

Seifer examined his bruised wrists before he sat down across Quistis, a thin layer of glass with a small round hole separating them. “You better tell Puberty Boy to start spending money on me, a high profile criminal and all you can give me are danged lousy cuffs. Where’s the Estharian technology in that? I’m hurt, instructor.”

What was he looking for? An explosive chip installed in the brain? “For you, cuffs will do.”

“Ouch.” He said, holding a hand to his chest.

“Anyway…” she sighed. “I did not come here for this.”

“Here to say you miss me?” he asked, a simper graced his features.

“Keep the jokes coming, Almasy, these might as well be the last ones.”

“I heard that three years ago…I guess he was wrong. Look at me, still very much alive and kicking,” he opened his arms and raised it a bit.

“Kicking?” she asked, she raised an eyebrow. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Her comment was purposely ignored. “So, how’s it going, instructor. Finally won Puberty Boy’s heart?” he chuckled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m being silly. I always forget about him and my girl, Rinoa. Squall had always liked to pick after my crumbs.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, a mixture of contempt and disbelief in her voice.

“I can still remember her, clinging to me as if the loss of contact would end her very dear life…” he said. “But then again, why am I talking to you about it? Puberty Boy would be a much better audience.”

She rolled her eyes and did not answer back. She stared blankly at the glass. He stared back, the smirk on his face fading. He was amazed at how things could change and not change in three years. She had cut her hair, the once golden silk that reached to her mid-back, the one that she refuses to let down, now drops just short of her shoulders. She was still pale, ghostly pale. Still the sun never had the chance to feast its rays on her skin long enough. A stern pout still marked her lips and her eyes, still of cold, icy blue. Somehow though, she looked a lot more tired now. The cold steel in her eyes is somehow making way for another emotion, an emotion he could only attribute to sorrow, to utter sadness.

“The police did that, didn’t they?” she asked after a while, regarding his bruised face and swollen eyes and upon making sure that her silence had discouraged him from coming up with another foolish joke. He can hardly be recognized from the cuts and bruises that now displayed themselves proudly on his face. Some were still fresh, some were probably a week old or more.

Guilt wasn’t enough; they had to add physical torture too.

“Not quite enough, is it? I tried to destroy the world after all,” he answered.

“You could file a complaint. They’re not—“

“Save it, Trepe. This isn’t one of those made-up scenarios you’re so fond of discussing. This is the real world.”

“I know,” she said in almost a whisper.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to see you. The sight of a woman is a comely change from those of metal cells and freakin’ ugly guards. But, just tell me what the hell you’re here for to get this done and over with,” Seifer said rather bored.

She swallowed hard. How could she say her purpose without squirming and he taking her seriously. She had played this scenario in her head over and over again, each one ending with him laughing at her hysterically and her stalking out violently.

She let out a sigh. “A series of trials is scheduled to take place six weeks from now…I am to represent you in those trials.” She said the last sentence in a breathless rush.

“They can’t get me a lawyer now?” he chuckled softly. At least he asked before he laughed. That was good enough for her.

“No lawyer wants to take your case. They said it’s…” Her voice faded. Hopeless? Hopeless is an understatement. She was even surprised that they’re holding a trial for him. But of course, the biggest surprise of all was when they decided to imprison him and punish him after three long years of showing no resistance, much less interest, to him. However she tried to see it, he’s a dead man.

“So, they’re sending you?” There was mockery in his voice.

“It’s not like I want this,” she said in her defense. “This is not the position I had been aspiring for, thank you very much.”

“Seeing you fail as an instructor wasn’t enough for them, they also want to see you fail as a makeshift lawyer. Good people…the side you’ve been working for.”

Her hands immediately rolled into fists and a nerve twitched. “Don’t talk like I’m the only failure in this room.” Her voice became a bit louder.

He gave her a soft laugh. “Seriously, what would you gain? This is a hopeless case. What do they want a trial for? I’m going to die anyway. Ask them to do me and you a favor by sending me a firing squad tomorrow.”

“This is your life Seifer…”

Concern? Was that concern in her voice? …Nah! The only person Ice Queen had ever been concerned for was Puberty boy. Only half a week in jail and he’s already hallucinating. The lack of alcohol is surely taking its toll on him.

“I have never had a high regard for my life, instructor. You, of all people, would know that.”

She was getting impatient. Seifer always had a way to make her feel guilty about everything. “We’re not giving you a choice here.”

“Never had it in my dreams…”

“I’m going,” she cut her eyes at him.

He nodded. “Don’t let me keep you.”

She shook her head. She had waited longer than she had even talked to him. Not surprising, really. Seifer had always been difficult. Even if she had spent an entire hour with him the useful conversation would have only lasted five minutes. He had always liked to push her away, just like Squall. Only, they had different ways.

Her students…who would have thought she would have the privilege of teaching two war geniuses? Squall and Seifer. The commander and the knight. The fallen knight. He would have been a great commander too only if he wasn’t on the wrong side, and well, the attitude problem needs some fixing first.

Whatever Seifer was or will be, she could never be sure. She could never judge something she never understood. He was a good fighter but not the best of students, that’s all she knows. He was once a friend too. But then again, that was so long ago. Too long ago to even bother think about.

She stood up. “I’ll be here tomorrow at 800 hours. I’m going to discuss with you the terms of your case, whether you like it or not.” She said sternly before she walked away. The guard let her out and Seifer soon found his hands being cuffed again as he regarded her retreating form.

Whatever came to Hyne’s mind to let this happen, he doesn’t know…and probably wouldn’t want to know. This might as well be a part of his much deserved punishment. However he liked to see it, they’re both in deep shit.

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This is my first fanfic…erm, not really. Rather, it’s the first fic I’m uploading here in It’s a little short and all. Anyway, read and review. Ack…if you’re going to flame it, be a little gentle. The next chapter will be up shortly.