Balamb Garden was still being rebuilt and restaffed after the disastrous battle with Galbadia and then NORG's coup. Despite constant, round-the-clock repairs the behemoth structure still needed so much work. They had to tear down and rebuild certain parts of the outer walls and all the gears that let the Garden fly were so old as to be untrustworthy. Squall had a team of the best engineers loaned him by his father, Laguna Loire, studying the machinery and making improvements where they could.

Even though things were coming along, the Garden still showed signs of its misuse at times. Like that night. The Garden, having put into port on the east shore of Galbadia, had settled into the water, made a disconcerting shimmy, and then promptly blacked out. All the rooms and corridors in the Garden were without power, and the only light anywhere came from emergency generators and lamps set up by students and staff around the building.

Squall spent two hours settling panicked nerves and calming students and soldiers alike, giving everyone tasks to keep them busy. Then, after talking with the teams handling repairs to assess the situation, he had wearily climbed the stairs to the third floor and entered his office. He extinguished the small, battery-powered lamps that someone had lit around the room so only the blue glow from the room shining through the windows created any light.

He collapsed on the couch, throwing his head back against the cushions, stretching his neck, his throat curved and bared--vulnerable to attack.

He stayed like that for a long time, letting his fears and pains wash over him and drag him down. Rinoa was away again, as she often was, in Timber to help the citizens rebuild their nation after this most recent Sorceress War. She still had ties with the Timber Owls there and she had worked so hard to see her continent liberated--she deserved to share in the celebration and rebirth after the transition. Squall let her go without argument, not begrudging her at all, but he did miss her. At times like this it was especially hard to be without her.

Squall had never been very emotional--when he was being brutally honest with himself he could admit just how cold and stone-like he had been before Rinoa. She opened him with her love, letting him see that there were people who cared--that would never take advantage of him and use his love as a weakness to be exploited--would never leave him.

It was hard, dealing with all these emotions that he had never paid attention to before. He had always taught himself to ignore pain, laugh at sadness, kill any trace of sentimentality or affection lest it get in the way. Lest he grow to depend on it. Now he allowed himself to stay open to all these things and he was overwhelmed.

Suddenly, sprawled in the dark and feeling like he was the only person in the world, Squall began to cry. The tears came silently, no sobbing, no hysterical screams, only a silent whimpering in the back of his throat--soft on the wings of each breath. Tears blazed a hot path down his cheeks, their warmth burning his cool skin. He did not bother to wipe them away, he just closed his eyes, letting them pool behind his lids and burn his eyes before escaping.

There was a loud bang on his door and then the hollow boom as it was thrown open so hard that it hit the wall. Boots crushed the carpet of the office floor and someone entered the room, striding quickly across to the desk. Stopped. Turned and then came over to stop just in front of Squall, who never opened his eyes. He did not know who was there, and he did not care.

"Leonhart."

Seifer. Of course. Bastard rarely knocked, and when he did it was one loud, heedless slam on the wood that was really just an announcement of his approach before he entered--whether invited to or not. Squall kept his eyes closed and grunted noncommittally.

"The mayor of Dollet called all up in arms. Apparently the engineers at work on fixing the power cells in this old heap of junk are drawing power from the surrounding areas to do it. The lights are flickering on and off in Dollet like a cheap neon sign, and he called to, oh-so-politely, tell us to knock it the fuck off."

Squall was silent for a long moment before opening his eyes and clearing his throat.

"Call him back after we have our power back and tell him we will of course comply with his wishes. Balamb Garden has no desire to upset its neighbors and wishes him to note our absolute willingness to cooperate with his request."

Seifer laughed out loud, tipping his head back and bathing his skin in the blue light of the moon.

"Very diplomatically put, Leonhart. Love it. You were born for this bureaucratic shit."

"Thanks," Squall said dryly as he closed his eyes again. The tears were coming slower, now, pooling in the circles beneath his eyes before running down alongside his nose.

Seifer was quiet and Squall thought that he had turned to go. Squall opened his eyes again and found Seifer staring at him, mouth open in a little o of surprise.

"Leonhart."

"Yes, Seifer," Squall said in a resigned tone of voice.

"You're crying, Leonhart."

"Yes, Seifer," Squall said again with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to expose you to any sort of real emotion. If you back away slowly and run as soon as you hit the hallway you should be able to escape unscathed."

Seifer's pale face wrinkled with a frown, creating deep shadows in the valleys and hills of his flesh.

"Why are you crying, Leonhart?" he asked in a tone that was curious and a little suspicious.

Squall sighed yet again, running the air over the back of his throat so it growled a little. Frustrated and wishing that Seifer would leave him alone to his shameful and mournful little display of depression, he answered flatly.

"Someone kicked my puppy and I'm all torn up about it. Leave me the hell alone, Seifer."

Seifer was silent again and Squall closed his eyes, still refusing to wipe away his tears. To brush them away was to acknowledge their existence--to recognize a weakness. Despite how much he had changed, Squall still knew that some emotions were nothing but a fault--a failing, and needed to be ignored or destroyed. He hated being caught indulging his desperation like this--it was worse than being caught naked--worse than being attacked without his gunblade by his side.

"You missing your girlfriend?" Seifer asked after a long moment, his tone teasing.

"Fuck you, Seifer," Squall said conversationally, silently willing the other to just get bored with the game of torturing Squall and leave. He didn't know why he would, though. The game was very old between them, and it had never failed to entertain Seifer before.

Squall lifted his head off of the couch and looked at Seifer straight on, then tilted his head to the side and pinched his lips against a grimace of pain.

"What do you want, Seifer? Can't you just leave? Go on. Get out and leave me alone."

Seifer shook his head and laughed.

"Why would I do that? I've got you on the run, now."

Squall closed his eyes yet again, giving into the urge to block out the world. He leaned his elbow on the arm of the couch and dropped his face into his hand, squeezing the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Gods, his head ached. His scar hurt tonight, like it did some nights. It was phantom pain, he knew, as the wound was certainly long healed.

Sometimes he wished they did not have magical healing spells that could cure all with only a few whispered words. Sometimes Squall wanted nothing more than to let his body heal naturally--to have his injuries with him for weeks--to be able to feel the pain and be reminded of what he had been through, of what he had fought for. Sometimes pain was the only way he knew he was real.

Seifer was silent, waiting for Squall to come back at him with something, some insult or glib comment that would keep their battle with words going, but Squall just did not have the energy to keep Seifer entertained. He wanted only to be alone.

"Seifer. Please," Squall whispered, glancing up at the tall blond. "Please, leave me alone."

Seifer opened his mouth to speak, but then he was still. He was looking at Squall intently, his eyes roaming over the brunet's face, searching. He seemed to find something he didn't like, because he frowned deeply, his lips forming a bowed shadow across his face.

"What's wrong with you, Squall?"

Squall almost laughed. Seifer asked it like he might ask where that horrible smell was coming from. His voice almost curdled with distaste.

"It doesn't matter," Squall said tiredly. He shook his head. "It really doesn't."

"Well, it obviously matters to you if it's got you blubbering over it."

Squall rolled his eyes and sank down into the big, soft cushions and pillows covering the couch. He let them cradle him on all sides, like a velvet upholstered nest.

"You're right, it does matter. But it's not important to you, so don't worry about it. Just--just leave."

Seifer scowled, seeming to become only more determined to stay.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm curious."

"Well it's none of your business."

"You're the Headmaster of my Garden. Everything you do affects all the rest of us. Therefore, your every action, from accepting a contract from Esthar down to taking a piss, is my business."

"You're so vulgar."

"Quit skirting the issue."

"There is no issue."

"Yes, there is. What's wrong with you?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Seifer muttered something unintelligible.

"What was that?"

Seifer glared at Squall and went on the offensive.

"Why are you sitting here in the dark?"

"Because I didn't like the light of the lamps."

"Why are you sitting here alone?"

"Because I don't like people."

"Yes, well, that's true, anyway. Okay, then. Is it because Rinoa's gone?"

Squall shook his head in frustration. "No, not really. But it's none of your--"

"Is it because of the blackout?"

Squall snorted.

"No, guess not. Is it your father?"

"What, him? You think I'd cry over him?"

"Hmph. The...the pressure of being Headmaster?"

Squall shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, not really. I--I mean, that might be part of it, but--"

Seifer laughed and shifted his weight on his feet. "Go on, spill it, Leonhart."

"I don't know. It's just a lot of responsibility. A lot of added duties that I never had to deal with before. I always kind of relied on myself for myself and didn't concern myself with anyone else's well-being. Now--" He trailed off and shrugged.

"Yeah, well, I kind of know how that feels."

Squall looked up unbelievingly. "You do."

Seifer lifted his eyebrows in a show of hurt. "Hey, until recently I had a few command positions of my own, Leonhart. 'Til you and the goody-goody brigade put me out of a job, anyway," he said, shaking his head as if he were lamenting his loss.

"Yeah," Squall said sardonically. "But for some reason I don't think the mantle of responsibility weighed on you so heavily."

"Yes, well." Seifer said, looking down. "I was never really in control, anyway. It was always Ultimecia. She was always there, in my head, telling me what to do and forcing me when and if I refused."

Squall heard the guilt in his friend's voice and he spoke gently. "You had no choice, Seifer."

Seifer looked up with narrowed eyes. "I didn't always refuse," he said, eager to prove he wasn't as good a person as Squall might be thinking.

"You had no choice," Squall said again.

Seifer looked at Squall for a long moment before taking a deep breath and exhaling. His shoulders slumped slightly and he nodded. "Yeah, I suppose not."

"It's all right," Squall said tentatively, not sure how to maneuver around this suddenly thoughtful Seifer. "You're on the right side, now. It took you a while to get here, but you came around."

Seifer met his eyes somberly. In the silver light of the moon, Seifer's eyes looked black.

Squall stared openly at Seifer.

Seifer was silent again. The quiet grew and was swallowed up by the deep shadows which encased the room and blanketed the two men. Squall thought that perhaps Seifer had said all he had to say but then he spoke again.

Squall bit his lip and stared at his hands. He opened them slowly, turned them over so he could see his palms. He closed his hands slowly, wrapping his fingers around empty air to ball them into loose fists. They held nothing--they were empty, empty.

"I'm scared, Seifer," he whispered, so softly he wasn't sure that Seifer heard him.

"Of what?"

Squall swallowed hard and realized that he had started shaking.

"I don't know. I don't know, exactly. I just--I'm just so scared. I don't know what I'm doing, I don't-- This isn't right. I shouldn't be here."

"Uh-huh. And where, exactly, should you be?"

Squall just stared at his fists and shook his head. "I don't know," he said on the faintest breath.

His shaking grew stronger until his whole body was shivering. His teeth chattered loudly and he clamped his jaws shut. He hugged his arms around his body and leaned down, wanting to curl forward.

"Hey," Seifer said, surprised but concerned. "Hey, hey. No. Come on. Squall."

Squall could barely manage to shake his head. He dug his fingers into the fabric of his white shirt and squeezed until he was pinching his own flesh. It hurt, but the pain helped him focus.

Squall squeezed his eyes shut. Another weakness, another failure...but he did not pull away or push Seifer from him. He stayed still within the circle of Seifer's arms and leaned just a little towards the other.

"Calm down, Leonhart, you're having a fit, here," Seifer said lightly. His finger brushed Squall's chin gently. "Come on."

As Squall began slowly to relax he felt Seifer's right hand rubbing his arm. He felt Seifer's left hand tugging gently on a few soft strands of his hair. He took long, deep breaths and slumped against Seifer.

"Gods, Squall," Seifer said, and that was all.

Squall lifted his head and turned to face Seifer. They were close, bodies pressed together, sharing warmth. Such nearness limited Squall's options. He had choices before him, directions in which he could move. He chose one.

He leaned closer to Seifer, breathing in the scent of whatever aftershave Seifer used--something spicy that made his nose itch. He leaned closer until his lips were right by Seifer's, until their mouths were sighing small brushes of air against one another. He leaned close, and then he kissed Seifer. He kissed Seifer and his hands were on Seifer's arms, holding them against his body--until he realized that Seifer was kissing back.

They shifted slightly as they kissed, moving so their bodies faced one another. Seifer's mouth was strong against his, and his tongue worked into Squall's mouth like he needed no invitation. Seifer kissed Squall with his lips, with his tongue, and with his fingers, creeping up to cup Squall's cheeks and caress his flesh, and with his hips, pushing against Squall's as he slowly backed Squall into the corner of the sofa. Squall found himself half lying down with Seifer over him, trapped and pinning him against the cushions. He let out a soft moan, begging, gently, and spread his hands over Seifer's chest so that they weren't empty anymore.

By the time the lights finally came back on, they were both beyond caring. Squall immediately turned them back off and quickly locked the door.