FFVIII: Loophole
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: When a man doesn't remember the crimes he commited, can he still be punished for them? Could also be seen as Seifer/Squall. For
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ff_flashfic and fated_children.“What's wrong with him?”
Kadowaki drew the covers up over Seifer, not answering for a moment, her eyes on the still livid scar across his face. “I'm not sure, exactly. He had a nasty hit on the head,” and her fingers felt out the bump, checking it over again, “and he hasn't been eating well enough, but I think he'll be okay as soon as he's slept it off and had a good meal.”
She didn't call him Commander, but then, she didn't care about who was in charge of the Garden. In the infirmary, she was the only authority that mattered, and that was the end of it. And Squall didn't mind. He remembered well enough check ups when he was still fourteen and skinny, and the way Kadowaki had ordered him around, and the way he'd obeyed. And he remembered the way she'd helped the wounded of both sides during the trouble between Cid's faction and Norg's faction. It didn't matter to her; a patient was a patient.
“You'll watch over him?”
“Of course,” she said, as if any suggestion otherwise was an insult. “He could've done anything, and I'd still treat him fairly while he was in this infirmary.”
“Of course.” Squall took a deep breath, rubbing his temples to ward off a coming headache. “The Galbadian government is demanding that we hand him over to stand trial.”
“He's in no condition to --”
“I know.” He smiled, just ever so slightly, “Make sure nobody takes him. He's under my protection.”
Kadowaki nodded, stepping away from the bed and drawing curtains around it. “Seifer Almasy or not, he's not in any fit state to stand trial, and he might not be for some time.”
Squall frowned. “I thought you said he'd be okay, once he'd rested and eaten?”
She shrugged. “He had a bump on the head, and the head's a fragile thing.”
“Amnesia?”
“There's always that possibility.”
“Keep me posted,” he said, and turned on his heel, marching out.
Kadowaki twitched aside the curtain for a last look at Seifer, remembering him back when he and Squall had sat on the beds in the infirmary after their first fight, scowling at each other, but quite unable to do anything in her presence. “If only you could've been friends,” she said, softly, and let the curtain fall.
-----
“Can you say your name for me?”
Seifer sat up awkwardly, wincing as the movement dislodged the needle in his arm that had been carrying nutrients and water from a tube up to now. It took him a moment to understand where he was, looking around at the room, but the word popped into his head. 'Infirmary'. He felt he'd been there before, but he couldn't quite...
“My name?”
“You suffered a head trauma,” the doctor said, holding a clipboard and a pen and giving him a piercing look. She seemed familiar, too, especially with that look, but he thought that perhaps all doctors looked like that at times.
And then he realised with stomach clenching panic that he wasn't even sure of his own name.
That 'popped' into his head too, after a moment's panic, and he said it with some relief, leaning back against a rather flattened pillow. “Seifer. Seifer Almasy.”
“Do you know where you are?”
He shook his head.
“This is the infirmary of Balamb Garden. You're under the Commander's protection here. Nothing will happen to you,” she said, and her voice was calm and reassuring. He wanted to panic again, but something about her, large and comfortable and familiar, forbade it. “I'm Doctor Kadowaki. The Commander will be along in a while, I'm sure, I told him you were awake. And then he'll probably find an escort so you can get out of bed and maybe go for a meal, if you feel like it.”
“An escort?” he asked, frowning, wondering why he'd need an escort.
“You had a head trauma,” she reminded him, gently, “You're going to need some looking after, still.”
He nodded, supposing that he could understand and put up with that. “Who is the Commander?”
“You don't – oh. Right. Of course not. His name is Squall Leonhart. He lead SeeD to victory against the Sorceress, in the war.”
“War? Sorceress?”
He was frowning. At sea. But the words brought something to mind, something...
“I'm sure the Commander will explain if he feels you need to know. In the meantime, you'd best try and remember for yourself. You obviously have some amnesia, after that head injury, but don't worry. Your memories will return. In the meantime, I have other patients...”
“I'm sorry,” he said, smiling slightly, realising that he must be taking up a lot of her time.
She smiled back, leaving him, and he grabbed the pillow, punching it and shaking it until it fluffed up to be more comfortable to rest against. He wondered how soon this 'Commander' would come and see him.
-----
Kadowaki went about the rest of the day's duties with a troubled air. Seifer had... changed. It was as if, all in a moment, when he woke, he'd lost all of it. The arrogance, the pride, the smirk. His smile had been gentle, sincere, and he honestly hadn't known... It was troubling. She didn't discriminate against anyone, no matter what they did, but even so, Seifer had done so much...
Yet that almost innocent seeming man in the bed couldn't be blamed for those crimes, could he? He didn't even remember doing them, couldn't possibly be punished for them... And yet, one day, eventually, he'd remember. And if he wasn't punished, who could be?
She didn't find any answers.
Squall came to see her about three hours later than he'd wanted to. He was tired, with dark smudges under his eyes, and she resolved to force him into some vacation – soon, anyway.
“How is he?”
“He barely remembered his own name for a moment,” she said, frowning, “but other than that, and the fact that he's hungry and could do with some solid food, he's okay. I told him that you would provide an escort to the cafeteria.”
“Can't he eat here?”
“I'd rather he got some exercise.”
Squall sighed softly and then nodded. “What have you told him?”
“My name. Your name. Where he is. That you won the war for us. That's all.”
“He doesn't remember his part in it?”
“If he does, he's showing no signs of it.”
“Thank you, Kadowaki,” he said, and she wondered where the little boys had gone, with their fourteen year old hormones and the hot rivalry and the equally warm friendship. Now Squall was all cool professionalism, and Seifer'd gone cruel. Except he wasn't now.
She decided that these decisions weren't for her, and it was best if she didn't think of it at all.
-----
“Seifer?”
He looked up, looking the man over. He had longish brown hair that hung into his eyes, and he was wearing a kind of uniform, all black and gold. Very impressive, Seifer thought, reluctant, his eyes slipping up the man's body and taking him in. He looked like a fighter, with all the poise and balance common to fighters and dancers. He met his eyes, troubled by the scar slashing across his face, something twisting inside him at the sight of those grey-blue eyes.
“Who are you?” he asked, and he didn't mean to sound short and curt and rude, but it all came out wrong.
“Commander Squall Leonhart,” he said, and his eyes seemed to go distant. “You are Seifer Almasy?”
It was too late, though. Seifer'd seen the look in the Commander's eyes – part suspicious, but also part longing. The man had obviously known him before – but before what?
“Yes,” he said, playing along anyway. “I was told you'd provide an escort...?”
The answer was almost instantaneous, but Seifer saw the split second, the flicker, that told him the decision was being made. “I am the escort. Your clothes are folded on that chair beside your bed. I'll be back in a minute.”
And he stepped out. Seifer got out of bed, grabbing the clothes and getting them on quickly. They felt familiar against his skin, and he had to conclude that they really were his. He put the trench coat on and that was perfect.
But at the same time as he felt like they belonged, he felt that they belonged to something else.
The Commander pushed aside the curtain again and for a moment there was a flicker of dismay before he was cool and bland again. “Come on. Tomorrow, I'll bring you different clothes.”
“Why?”
Leonhart just didn't answer, leading him out of the infirmary and nodding to two guards who stood outside the room. Seifer followed him, a little disconcerted by the feeling that those guards' eyes were stabbing into his back, and by the fact that as they reached the end of the corridor, the guards began to follow.
He had a feeling the Commander wouldn't explain those, either.
-----
Squall saw Seifer back to the infirmary again before he allowed himself to relax. He went to his office, troubled by the change in Seifer. The easy, soft smile. The way those green eyes had looked into his own, discerning, seeing, but not in the way they used to. Seifer used to be all pride and challenge. But the way their eyes had met hadn't been a challenge.
He tried to shake it off. But those eyes hadn't been the same eyes he'd seen when Seifer had last fought him.
That thought got under his skin until he threw his pen down, unable to work a moment more. Seifer had done that to him before, in exactly the same way, at least. Annoying and enchanting him, drawing out reactions until he couldn't stand to say a moment longer sitting down at a desk.
He'd always ended up fighting Seifer, back then. He wondered if Seifer would fight now.
He could always find out, of course.
He had Hyperion. It'd been with Seifer when he was found in the street, unconscious, and Squall had taken it. Confiscated it, really. But keeping it safe, too, out of some kind of respect for another's weapon that came of having and loving his own weapon. Even Seifer's gunblade deserved some respect.
So it sat in its heavy case, right there, alongside Lionheart.
Squall pushed all the papers into a pile, tossing them into a tray to keep his desk neat (his secretary did scold so when he didn't keep things tidy) and then went across to get Lionheart. She fit into his hand, easy as always, and he thought he'd go to the training center to work off some of the tension.
It'd be better if he could fight Seifer, though.
-----
“What is this?”
“A gunblade,” the Commander said, sitting down on the edge of his bed after a slight hesitation. “She's yours. You named her Hyperion.”
“She?”
A faint flush came into the man's cheeks, and Seifer thought he looked beautiful, but he couldn't say it. And the guy would probably hit him for it, anyway.
“I always think of my gunblade as she,” he explained, simply.
“Your gunblade?”
“Yeah. Lionheart. Here,” and he showed Seifer his blade, all blue and perfect and Seifer wanted to hold it, feel the weight and balance in his hand, something vaguely remembered, surging up, all professional and eager.
“Can I hold it, Commander?” he asked, almost feeling like he was asking for something forbidden. He watched him hesitate, then smiled, showing his appreciation as best as he could, when he handed it over.
Lionheart, huh? She was beautiful. He could remember holding Hyperion now, but there was a difference, Lionheart was heavier...
“You wield this with both hands?”
“Yes. You've always wielded Hyperion with only one hand. It's lighter.”
Seifer wanted to explain that he knew, but he didn't bother, handing back Lionheart, and picking up his own weapon. Like the clothes, it fitted him – or he fitted it – perfectly, the weight known and solid and right in his hand.
“Could we...?”
“I was hoping you would want to,” the Commander admitted, and stood up. “And... call me Squall. Or at least Leonhart.”
Seifer smiled and nodded. Squall.
It already felt right to be calling the man that, so familiar, for a world leader.
-----
“How are you feeling today, Seifer?”
“Great!” he said, pushing up and smiling at her. An eager, open smile – and there was none of the old Seifer in that, absolutely none, and she could barely remember the proud smirk any more.
“Have you remembered anything?”
“I... Not really. I remember bits and pieces of my training, now... people, faces and names, mostly, but that's all.” He looked up, a little vulnerable, biting his lip, “Should I be remembering more?”
“I don't know,” she said, wincing a little at how unprofessional it sounded. “We'll just have to see how things go. It might just be that you're going to remember very slowly. Or perhaps you'll never recover your memories past a certain point. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it – you shouldn't give up hope yet.”
“I haven't,” he said, smiling at her again.
“Good,” she said, trying to be brisk, and moved on to the next task of the morning. A mission had just come in from helping out in Trabia. She was sure there'd be the usual amounts of frost bite, over-tired idiots who'd worked too hard and were actually surprised that they were damn near collapsing, and...
“Doctor Kadowaki!”
Selphie.
It was going to be a long morning.
-----
“We were close, once, weren't we?”
Squall looked up at him, blinking, and shook his head. “Not really. Well, sort of... I mean. In a way.”
“In what way?” Seifer asked, frowning slightly. He knew Squall had once been close to him, in the way he knew his own name. It was just a part of him. He couldn't explain it, couldn't pinpoint it, but there it was. It was a fact of life, and Seifer didn't know how to deal with the fact that, maybe, it wasn't. He'd been counting on it. Like a lifeline.
“We used to fight each other. I guess I knew you quite well because of that, but...”
Seifer remembered Squall's quiet tendencies. A constant sadness in his eyes. He'd... the memory slipped away. What had he done to draw Squall out?
Fight him, apparently.
“I'm sorry,” he murmured, since that seemed to be appropriate, and then Squall shook his head, reaching out to touch Seifer's hand.
“Don't.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled again, and found himself blushing when he met Squall's eyes. For some reason, inexplicably, Squall blushed too, and they looked away.
“Are you hungry?” Squall asked, after a moment, looking at the time.
“Yeah,” he said, not that he really was. It just felt like the right time to do something, anything, to break the sudden tension. It wasn't a bad tension, exactly, he'd been feeling it a while now, stretched between them. But so often, tension brings things to breaking point.
And whatever it was, it wasn't time for it to break.
“I'll go get us both some lunch. I'll bring it to your office,” he offered.
“Your escort...”
Seifer looked Squall in the eyes again. He wasn't used to the escort, still, and he had a feeling he didn't want to be used to them. He knew it wasn't anything to do with his bump any more, because that had gone, leaving only his still decayed memory behind. “Do you really think they're needed?”
He felt as if Squall was looking forward, but he refused to drop his eyes. Whatever made everyone so cautious around him, he didn't remember it. To him, it seemed like a lifetime away. He was a different man from the one the scraps of memory showed him, anyway.
There was no need to fear him, and he thought Squall knew that now.
Squalls eyes dropped away. “No,” he almost whispered.
And that was that.
-----
“We saw him. In the cafeteria of your Garden, Commander. He's here and we don't intend to leave without him.”
Squall found himself wishing for just a tiny part of Laguna's charm. Apparently, that wasn't genetic. He didn't know what to say, but he straightened up and tried to look like he knew what he was doing, like he was sure of it. “Him?”
“Don't play coy with me, Commander,” the soldier said, crossing his arms in front of him. He was a big shot. Squall had read Xu's little preparation on him, and couldn't remember a word of it that might be helpful right now.
“He's under my jurisdiction, at the moment. I'm not answerable to Galbadia and affairs of this Garden are my own concern.”
He almost thought he sounded professional. Except that he was bullshitting.
He just hoped the self important soldier didn't notice that.
“He's a war criminal.”
“He doesn't remember anything about the war,” he said, startling himself, because he hadn't meant to say that. He'd meant to be stern but almost sympathetic. As if going along with the whims of Garden's doctor.
“That doesn't matter. He committed the crimes, and he needs to pay for it.”
“Can you make someone pay for something they don't remember doing? He's a different person now.” Squall wanted to shut up. But some part of his brain was as determined to fight for Seifer as it had been to fight against him, once upon a time, and he listened to that part of his brain. It was the effect Seifer had on him. And he didn't think it was a bad thing, not any more.
Although it could get him into some trouble now.
“You should keep your personal feelings out of this matter, Commander,” the soldier replied, smooth as silk.
Squall had been wanting to say this for quite a long time. He'd had enough of bureaucrats and smooth talking anyway.
“Fuck you.”
The hell that broke loose after that was, he decided, rather worth it. It only cost him a desk, a door and one new pane of glass. It cost the Galbadian soldier his life. The incident was filed as a 'minor disturbance', and Garden sent its (in)sincere apologies to the Galbadian government.
-----
“Seifer, wake up.”
He woke up quickly, a habit that even the bump on the head that stole his memories hadn't stolen from him. He sat up quickly, his heart thudding, automatically reaching for a weapon that wasn't quite where he expected it to be.
“Sorry. It's Kadowaki. Get up, and put your clothes on. I'll be back in a minute.”
“It's the middle of –” he started, but she disappeared, so he just shrugged to himself and did as he was told.
The clothes Squall had found him hadn't been anything like his own clothes, from the first day, and the ones he found on the chair weren't even like those. They were black, this time, and he found when he touched them that they were leather, made to last. Hyperion was laid across the chair, too, clean and gleaming. He could tell just from looking at it that it'd had an upgrade and felt excitement rising inside him.
After all, there are very few reasons for being woken in the middle of the night, given different clothes and a highly functional weapon.
But he hoped that he'd see Squall before he left.
“Are you ready?” Kadowaki asked softly, and he pulled away the curtains in answer. She looked him over, her eyes soft with something that could've been motherly worry, and that brought to him more memories – of a different woman, in a different place, with big, soft eyes and thick lashes and a smile that always made him feel invincible, even when he'd just cut his knee.
He remembered Kadowaki, too, sponging blood away from a cut and lecturing him.
He shook the memories away and grinned at her. He couldn't feel apprehensive. Not with Hyperion right there and the infirmary dark and empty. “What's going on?”
“Ssh,” she said, and looked to the door. “Commander?”
“I'm here,” Squall said softly, and Seifer's heart leapt.
“What's going on?” he asked again, quieter, and Squall came towards him from the door. He felt Squall take his hands, cool leather against his skin, and heard Squall clear his throat as he fumbled for words.
“You... played a very important part in the war. As important as I did – maybe more important, fuck if I know, depends on your perspective. You might remember, in time, I don't know... They want to punish you for it, even now.”
Seifer suddenly felt sick. “I did something... bad, didn't I?”
“I don't know. Maybe you thought it was right. But Seifer... we have to get you out of here. They're coming for you. I have a plan, just...” Squall was fighting back emotion, Seifer could see it, and he remembered a stormy day, a fight, flashing blades, blood –
“I don't want to bring trouble to Garden,” he said, soft, uncertain.
The other man almost grinned. “You've caused enough in your time. No, this is a personal favour, anyway. I'll take the blame.”
“You might well find yourself joining Seifer,” Kadowaki put in, smiling wryly at Squall.
“If so, I don't care.”
Seifer shook his head violently, like he wanted to shake Squall. “You're giving up...?”
“I might not have to. Come on, follow me.”
Seifer followed Squall to the door, and then turned back to look at Kadowaki. “Thank you,” he said, and then, “sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, idiot boy,” she said, but there were tears in her eyes and he hugged her, impulsively, tightly, and she gasped and hugged him back, her eyes wetter than ever. “Get lost, you troublemaker.”
“Bye,” he whispered, and then he did follow Squall, out of the infirmary, through corridors he half remembered walking through at night, going to meet Squall, going for a fight, going to meet a girl...
He found himself dreading saying good bye to Squall, but he blocked that feeling as Squall led him silently through the gates, out through an archway, and out into the cold night air.
“Trabia,” Squall said, softly. “You won't be here long. Tomorrow an airship will come. My father – Laguna Loire – is going to take you in and give you political asylum.”
He felt a little jolt, remembered Squall at the orphanage, always crying because he was alone. “You have a father?”
“I found him during the war.”
“So the war was good for something.”
“Maybe,” Squall said, trying to smile at Seifer's joke.
“So... where am I supposed to go now?”
Seifer watched Squall as he got something out of his pocket. His face was troubled, worry lines crinkling his scar. He looked almost adorable like that, and that wasn't normally a word Seifer applied to Squall, not even now. Gorgeous, yeah, beautiful, yeah, words like that. But not cute. Not usually.
It was insane. Not just calling Squall cute. All of it. An orphan with a father. An orphan with a father who was willing to help out with a friend who'd committed crimes during a war he didn't even remember. A war criminal who didn't remember the war escaping into the snow fields at night.
“This is a map of Trabia,” Squall said, holding it out, and Seifer squinted to see it in the dark. “I've ringed the spot you need to make for, and right now we're,” he made a mark with a pencil as he spoke, “here. It should take you an hour at most to cover the distance, even if you're not in the shape you used to be.”
“Play fighting with you toughened me up again,” he said, smiling and even smirking a little (a familiar expression that, like the clothes he'd worn the first day, felt wrong now), pretending a confidence he didn't really feel.
“Okay,” he said, and smiled back.
There was a moment of silence and then Seifer reached out, grabbing Squall and hauling him close, wrapping his arms around him. He was trembling, and not with the cold. Seifer held him for a long moment, feeling all that trembling energy in his arms, and then pulled back, looking into Squall's shadowed face.
“Good bye, then, and thank you, and sorry,” he said, all at once, and wished he could say it better.
“Bye, Seifer,” Squall whispered, and his eyes were lost, but at least he wasn't crying.
The snow crunched under Seifer's feet.
He looked back once, after just a few steps.
“Squall?”
“Yes?”
“I just wanted you to know something...”
“I know it already. Go. Hurry.”
He turned again, only once more, but he did turn. Squall was there, watching him silently, Lionheart gleaming in the dark. He turned to face the dark and started to run, to fight back the voice telling him to run back and face the music.
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