FFVIII: Thin Red Line (2)

[edenbound]

Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Main characters: Seifer, Squall, Xu, Zell
Referenced characters: Quistis, Selphie
Pairings: None
Contains: Angst, deathfic
Rating: PG
Summary: The war isn't over until everyone has stopped fighting.


Looks fragile, sleeping like that, all cuddled up under his blankets. Kinda pretty. Not scared yet, still not scared, but there's time enough for that. All the time in the world. And he can be patient when it comes to this, slow machinations to get the reactions he wants. He was always good at manipulation -- manipulating and being manipulated, no difference.

Not long now.

----

A single squeak from the door and the sound of a footstep and Squall rolls, first to one side to close his hand around Lionheart's hilt and then to the other, snapping on the light and bringing the gunblade up to point at the chest of the intruder. Seifer looks startled, his green eyes wide, and then he bites his lip. "Squall -- "

"It's you? I thought -- "

"No, Squall, it -- "

"What's that?"

Seifer sighs and steps back a little from the gunblade prodding him in the chest, carefully. He runs a hand through his hair and glances at the note he's holding, his eyes narrowing just a touch as he tries to figure out what it says without showing off his squint. "A note. Not signed. Says 'how about Trepe now? Or Tilmitt?'. I'm just -- "

Squall doesn't listen to Seifer. Instead, his thoughts go to the list of who will be where that he drew up in preparation for the next week, and the fact that within the next week, both Selphie and Quistis will be on the same train to Deling on two unrelated and fairly unimportant missions. And the fact that no one from outside Garden could know that, only him and Xu and anyone who had been in either office for punishment and might've chanced to see --

He lifts Lionheart just a little more, stepping closer to Seifer so the blade rests against the side of his neck. He narrows his eyes a little and tries to keep his voice dead of emotion, but vaguely threatening all the same. "Why, Seifer?"

Seifer's eyes, in contrast, widen a little. "I just told you -- I'm not the one doing it."

"Tell the truth, Seifer."

Seifer swallows hard and the blade moves against his neck, razor sharp and sharper, leaving a thin red line of blood on his neck, nothing more than a warning. "I didn't do it, Squall. I'm just the messenger boy. I... shit, you know I'm trying to keep my head down. Doing anything more now would be pointless after what I did in the war, and I got my ass kicked then so why should I do something so stupid now?"

"Who else could it be, then?"

"I don't know -- shit, Squall, would you let me breathe properly?"

Reluctantly, Squall lowers the blade, but keeps his eyes focused on Seifer, letting his general body go out of focus a little, ready to notice the tiniest movement. The tiniest danger.

"I don't know who it is. I'm sorry. I didn't see them. I just found this note in my room and figured I should bring it to you."

"Why should I believe you?"

Squall plays for time, now, watching Seifer's actions and Seifer's eyes, waiting for some betrayal of guilt even though he doesn't think he'll find one. He'd know, he thinks, if Seifer was doing it. There'd be a gunblade involved, not a garotte. It'd be a public spectacle, not something limited to the darkness of some parts of Balamb town at midnight. But, on the other hand --

On the other hand, there is no real evidence that it isn't Seifer. There's no one else Squall can actually think of who would want to kill the children from the Orphanage or the people who had fought Ultimecia, whichever it happens to be precisely. And Seifer is standing there, in his room, with a note that is, apparently, connected to the murder of Irvine and the potential murder of Quistis and Selphie.

"Squall..."

There's something suspicious about a faintly pleading tone coming from Seifer that makes Squall wonder. It doesn't fit with the knight and the bloody gunblade and the arrogant cut of a trenchcoat. It makes Squall narrow his eyes a little and almost start raising the blade again, makes him want to demand to know what the hell is going on and why and why Seifer is killing his friends.

Before he can, though, there's a loud knock on the door that makes Seifer jump a lot and even makes Squall flinch a little. "Yes?"

"Commander?"

Squall stifles his impatience and manages not to ask who the hell else would answering from inside his room with his voice. It takes an effort and an eyeroll, though. "Yes, it's me."

"Commander, it's Xu."

"And?"

She clears her throat and then he catches the breathlessness that might be from emotion rather than running and curses, going over to the door and jerking it open. Xu's eyes are wet as she looks up at him. "We got a note, sir."

He has the distinct feeling that he should comfort her, but he isn't sure how, so he settles for nodding slightly and pointedly ignoring Seifer's presence at his back, hoping Xu will follow his example. "Yes?"

"It's Zell, sir."

"We got a message from him?"

"He's dead."

The words squeeze around his throat for just a moment and then he thinks he can breathe properly and his chest isn't quite constricting with the kind of grief that crawls into your insides and stays there, heavy, thick and unbudging. He likes -- liked Zell. More than most people. He was -- one of them.

And that, he thinks, grimly, was the problem.

He flicks his eyes to Seifer and holds his hand out for the note, nodding at Xu. "Get everyone in my office, I'll be there shortly."

"Of course, sir."

Her heels click off down the hall, and he ignores the fact that there were tears shimmering on her cheeks. He turns to Seifer and takes the note from him. "I guess that puts you safe from the blame. Go to bed. And don't deliver notes again."

"No, sir," Seifer says, almost meekly, but his eyes glitter a little.