Chronicles of Valentine

a/n: Wahhh, you guys are accepting the changes so much that I'm glowing! I'm so glad that the lack of Vincent/Squall hasn't lost me any readers. I like this chapter a lot, too. I hope you enjoy!

Love to all my readers! I'm so glad that this pet project of mine has proven to be interesting! Big thanks to those who stop to leave me a little message!

@Kuromei: Is Seifer hitting on Vincent? Bwa ha ha! I'll leave that for you to see for yourself. And yep, updates once a week until I finish! Thanks!

@DTE: I don't what it is about Vincent. He just seems to attract confused teenagers, the poor boy. Lol. Thanks!

@Nelleh: I think it was my fangirlyness that wanted to see Vincent do naughty things with that mercenary myself. Bwa ha ha. Glad you're still here! Happy New Year to you, too! Thanks!

@DarkSacrifice: And now you followed me here! Yay! I'm really fond of this fic, even if it is depressing. So I hope you like it, too! Did you get my e-mail? I listed the order of the Shattered Series for you. Thanks!

Warnings for language, hints of boylove, remembered character death, self-betaing, and Vincent attempting to give romantic advice

Enjoy!
Chronicles of Valentine

Chapter Eleven

-- September 22, 4012 --

Mealtimes in Garden were always a trying affair. Partially because Balamb Garden was always adrift or wandering somewhere. Partially because the cafeteria was the only place to find food in the entire building. And partially because I had become something of a celebrity ever since my arrival here. I could never eat in peace.

The only saving grace was that I never had to suffer the attentions of the entire Orphanage Gang – as they had come to be known to themselves if no one else – at once. Conflicting schedules and missions had the friends rarely in Balamb Garden all at the same time, much less the cafeteria. An experience they had endured was sure to bond them together, even closer, but occasionally, breaks from one another were a necessity.

Today was no exception. I had wandered to the cafeteria seeking sustenance at a time I believed to be slow for the day. Between the lunch rush and the dinner crowd, when most students were still in a class of some kind or another and only visitors, SEED, and the occasional free instructor wandered the halls. I was one of those free instructors, my classes finished for the day.

I wanted a moment of quiet contemplation, where I could enjoy my meal in peace. Perhaps a chance to reflect on my circumstances. To the strange relationships I had been cultivating among the unlikely group of heroes.

Such as the almost teacher-like friendship I had built between myself and Irvine, due to our mutual appreciation of firearms.

Or the frequent discussions between Quistis and I concerning history, literature, and the connections between them. For moments of quiet contemplation with mature company and a cup of tea or coffee, the young woman always sought me out. I was willing to oblige, often times desiring much the same.

Or further, the strange, almost parental role I had taken in Squall's life. There were many times I had wandered across Squall's path somewhere in Garden and fallen into conversation, surreptitiously offering advice on any manner of things. He reminded me so much of Reeve sometimes – and myself – that it was almost frightening.

“Seriously man, you gotta try this,” Zell insisted, drawing me from my reverie by jabbing a ketchup-slathered hot dog right under my nose. Even wrapped in a fluffy bun, I couldn't be enticed to eat the damn thing.

Squall sighed, reaching over to push the hot dog back towards the tattooed blond. “Zell, leave Vincent alone. Not everyone shares your adoration of phallic objects.”

Zell's mouth dropped open and then closed and then opened again. “Did you just make a perverted joke?”

“It happens from time to time,” the commander dismissed with a shrug, digging into his roast beef sandwich with great gusto.

I hid my smirk well, dipping a spoon into the thick potato stew that I had acquired for myself. For some reason, my body craved the spicy warmth at the moment. I watched discreetly as Zell watched Squall, not so discreetly, and Squall tried but failed not to notice the eyes on him. It amused me, watching these two men dance around each other like performing an elaborate waltz with no music.

Zell watched. Squall evaded. And the color red was becoming very, very prevalent at the table. It was almost... cute.

“Well, if it isn't Puberty Boy and Chicken Wuss together at the same table.”

The voice, announcing himself with the same annoying flair as always, caused both Squall and Zell to straighten in irritation. Zell going so far as to puff up like a peacock, irritation dancing in eyes the same color as the sparkling sea.

“Seifer, you asshole--”

The hand on his arm stopped Zell mid-rant – Squall quieting him. The tattooed blond promptly blushed and his returning insult degenerated into a mumble as he reached for a hot dog and stuffed it into his mouth.

Obsession with phallic objects indeed.

Seifer snorted, and ignored both of his companions, instead focusing on me. “So, Valentine, you look bored. Interested in a spar?”

If this had been the first time he'd asked me, I would be surprised. But as it were, this would be the third or fourth occurrence. They were becoming a part of my routine, enough so that the SEEDs assigned to subtly “watch me” no longer had their feathers ruffled by Seifer's appearance.

However, it was something the Orphanage Gang had yet to realize was a constant occurrence and so, the ruffled feathers. Particularly on Zell's side.

Before I could respond, Squall frowned, brushing crumbs off his sleeve. “I don't think that's such a good idea,” he said, in his sternest Commander voice.

“Relax, Leonhart, I do believe I can handle myself,” I retorted, resisting the juvenile urge to roll my eyes. I was the last person Squall needed to express concern over. I had the advantage of age and experience.

“I wasn't concerned about you,” Squall said, lips twitching. His eyes had taken on an uncharacteristic twinkle.

I knew that there was an acerbic wit buried beneath that stoicism. “Ah, how true. Very well then. I shall try my best not to break your only competition.”

Seifer snorted. “We'll see who does the breaking here, Valentine.”

“This I've gotta see,” Zell said, leaping to his feet and stuffing another hot dog into his mouth. The fifth – or was it sixth? -- I had seen him consume this evening. My stomach churned at the mere thought of it.

Squall rose to his feet.

“What? You coming, too, Princess?” Seifer demanded, one brow arching cockily. He cracked his knuckles noisily, as though itching for a fight. Something must have set him off, possibly an offhand comment or a veiled look from someone he might have respected once upon a time.

Squall didn't even bother to glare, letting the insult roll over and above him like water and oil. “Someone has to bear witness to the mighty Seifer's defeat,” he said, perfectly straight-faced and humorless, though I could see his lip twitching in restrained amusement.

Rolling his eyes, Seifer turned away, his trenchcoat a swirl of white behind him. “Come on then. No need to waste time standing around here,” he muttered, an annoyed set to his shoulders.

Amused, I followed along gamely, Zell trotting along afterward as we four headed for the elevator that served as a focal point for all of Balamb Garden.

Norg's former quarters had been altered into a training center complete with floor mats, equipment, lockers, and an impressive arena. It was to here that Seifer led us, Squall tagging along despite probably having commander duties to attend. No doubt he wanted to see Seifer put in his place, as Zell most assuredly did, bouncing excitedly already. Anyone with eyes could see that Seifer treated Zell like a younger brother, even if their relationship was filled with violence and insults.

Seifer just didn't know how to show proper affection. Or perhaps the better explanation would be that he considered himself too macho to do it properly. His arrogance wouldn't allow that show of weakness. Yes, that was probably the better reason.

I stripped out of my clinging attire, leaving me in nothing more than a plain shirt and a loose pair of trousers. For the sake of the duel, I pulled my hair into a high ponytail, sweeping the loose bangs behind my ears. This prompted a scoff on Seifer's part, but I ignored him. It was all part of Seifer's routine, to try and psyche out his opponent. Unfortunately, that tactic only worked on Zell.

Speaking of which, the tattooed blond and Squall had taken up a spectator position on the sidelines. The former danced from foot to foot, looking ready to become my own personal cheerleader, while the latter leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The perfect picture of indifference, or so he appeared. But I knew Squall was watching the both of us closely, no doubt cataloging strengths and weaknesses for future reference.

I watched as Seifer stepped into the ring, dressed down himself in a pair of drawstring sweats and a shirt that did little to conceal the muscular lines of his chest. He idly stretched, making muscles ripple invitingly, an arrogant smirk pulling at his lips. An unfounded arrogance at that, considering I was the uncontested victor of our little spars.

Rolling my shoulders to loosen them, I tried to guess Seifer's mood to discern what type of duel he would invoke this time. Something quick and bloody? Something drawn out and planned? Judging by the sparkle in jade eyes, Seifer was in the mood to dance.
Fine by me.

We didn't speak, our minds already shifting into that space where every focus was on the feel of the ground beneath our feet and the rising tension in the air. I watched Seifer watch me, my boot sliding across the arena floor and I waited. Seifer would make the first move, he always did. His impatience exceeded my forbearance.

Seifer twitched and darted forward; I took a single step back, avoiding the powerful blow aimed for my jaw. To go straight for the face... I should have expected it. Seifer never pulled any punches only because he knew I could handle them. I shifted my weight, lashing back at him, but Seifer was quicker on his feet than most would suspect and whirled out of the way.

I gave chase, determined to strike the first blow. I often wondered what it would be like to spar against him with a blade. I had some skills in multiple daggers. Nothing like Yuffie and her shuriken or my abilities with firearms, but as a Turk, I had been taught how to use various weapons. And in trading physical blows with Seifer, I wondered how different it would be to cross blades with him.

I had yet to witness a spar between Squall and Seifer, mostly because they vanished to some unknown part of Garden or even off Garden to carry on. This usually prompted much annoyance on Quistis' part because she couldn't find Squall until he returned on his own. She always worried they would kill each other. I didn't think that she realized the unspoken honor that lay between the two.

Yes, they had been enemies. And yes, they barely tolerated each other. But they both shared the same weapon and they respected one another for that reason. To hold back in anything – even a simple duel – would be an insult. A sign that one or the other considered their opponent too weak that they had to be coddled.

But then, mercenary aside, Quistis was a woman and perhaps she couldn't understand that kind of machismo.

A fist clipped my cheek, dragging my attention back towards the spar. I felt the air as it rushed by and shifted my balance, lashing out with a high kick. Seifer danced back to avoid, his face covered in a light sheen of sweat. The grin on his face couldn't be denied however. He was having fun.

Somewhere, on the edge of the arena, Squall continued to watch silently as Zell whooped in excited celebration. As a martial artist, no doubt he was itching to dive out here and join us. But Zell hadn't been invited.

I regained my balance and Seifer came at me again, hitting hard and fast, each move purposeful and followed up by another possibly brutal blow. If I hadn't had centuries of experience on him, there was every chance Seifer would take me down one day. I almost looked forward to that.

The crackle of the PA broke through the rising atmosphere of the spar and I skidded to a halt, aborting my attack. Seifer smartly ceased as well, both of us keyed to listen. I watched as he grabbed the hem of his shirt, dragging it up to wipe at his face and revealing the rippled muscles of his abdomen.

Damn, but they didn't build teenagers like that when I attended the military academy.
“Commander Leonhart to the bridge!”

Squall sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Another mission, I suppose,” he muttered without any enthusiasm at all. He raised his voice. “Come on, Seifer. You're going on this one.”

The taller blond released his hold on his shirt, letting the rumpled mess fall back around his abdomen. “Oh? Ya trust me for that now?”

“I trust you'll get the job done,” Squall corrected, already striding towards the elevator. “Hurry it up or I'll send Selphie with you.”

Seifer rolled his eyes. “That's cruel, Leonhart.”

“Then get your ass in gear.”

Squall was already at the exit, hitting the keypad to call the lift down to the basement. Sighing, Seifer dragged a hand through his sweaty hair, face flushed from the exertion. He tossed a shrug my direction.

“Duty calls, Valentine. Hate to break up what was turning into a fine ass-kicking on my part,” Seifer said with a smirk, all confidence and bluster.

The elevator donged to signal its arrival.

“Same time next week?” Seifer asked, already jogging towards the lift before the look of annoyance on Squall's face blossomed into anger and he really did send Selphie along for the ride, something only Irvine seemed to enjoy.

I didn't answer. Not that one was necessary. Seifer knew where I stood on that particular matter. Besides, I didn't feel that I could. Not at the moment. There was a tightening in my throat and an ache in my back. It prevented me from speaking, and it was all I could do to keep the attack lodged within me until they were beyond sight and hearing.

The paroxysms thankfully waited to strike until right after the elevator door slid shut on Seifer and Squall. I doubled over, coughing violently, knees weakening and holding strong by willpower alone.

Highly unusual, I wasn't sure what to think. They were dry, raspy, my lungs clenching down on each breath as though I were allergic to oxygen. My hair slapped against my sweaty face – even more strange, this feeling of exertion. This never would have happened before.

The fit was brief, as always, and I sucked in a slow, steady breath once it eased, trying to calm the clamping of my throat. Red sneakers entered my field of vision. Damn. I had forgotten that Zell remained behind.

“Dude, you really should go to the doctor,” he commented, his tone deceptively light.

I shook my head, wiping the back of my arm across my mouth and swiping at the sweat that had gathered on my brow. “It's a simple cold.”

He arched one brow, which, when coupled with that tribal tattoo, gave him a rakish appearance. “But you're the one who said that you don't get sick.”

“Dust in my lungs.” In truth, I had no idea what it was. I simply knew that there was no way in Hades I was going to see a doctor.

Zell looked at me, and I knew that he didn't believe me for a second. He was smarter than people gave him credit, and sometimes, even I forgot that. He tended to act like a reckless airhead so much that it was difficult to see the perceptive intelligence he had beneath.

“And I thought Squall had the monopoly on self-delusion.” Zell shrugged. “But whatever. Don't listen to me. All I'm saying is that you should get it checked out before Seifer starts to worry.”

This prompted an odd look on my part, not quite sure what Zell was trying to imply with that one. It was only recently that Seifer and I had made acquaintances and perhaps something of a friendship. To me, Squall was easier to get along with. But then, us broody, moody types understood each other better.

Zell shrugged again, spreading his palms. “Just saying.”

“Don't worry, Dincht,” I said, straightening. “I've lived for two thousand years. I'm sure I have another dozen or so left in me.” I reached for a nearby table, grabbing one of the towels that had been stacked there and using it to sop at the sweat painting my skin. A shower was definitely in order.

I felt the gaze between my shoulders more than saw it. “You know, you can call me Zell. Everyone else does.”

“Seifer calls you Chicken Wuss,” I reminded him, just because it amused me to do so and sometimes, even my humor sought to make a presence.

A glance over my shoulder showed me a picture of an annoyed Zell. “Seifer is an asshole,” he muttered and folded his arms over his chest, muscles rippling nicely in his arms. Zell really was just one bundle of carefully corded power. “He doesn't count.”

Feeling mischievous, I threw a sidelong look at Zell, lowering my voice in a way that I knew drove woman – and many men – crazy. “Zell.”

Predictably, he reddened. “On second thought, maybe it's better if you keep calling me Dincht if you're going to say it like that.”

I tossed my towel over my shoulder, chuckling. Zell was too easy.

--October 13, 4012--

“Surprise!”

I stared. There were balloons... everywhere. And streamers. And food piled on tables. And huge posters saying, in varying phrases, 'Welcome' and 'Happy Birthday' and 'Please, Don't Suck My Blood'. My brain stuttered a bit on the last one.

And as I stood there in stunned amazement, I recalled being cornered by Selphie three weeks ago, the chipper brunette on a mission.

“Vincent!” One hand waved wildly in the air. “Yoohoo! Mr. Valentine!”

I resigned myself to Selphie's presence before she became any louder, and crossed the extent of the Quad towards her. “Yes, Ms. Tilmitt?”

She giggled coquettishly, her eyes sparkling with mischief like always. “You know, I just realized that we never welcomed you.”

“Probably because I was never really welcome here in the first place,” I said dryly, a bit of my own acerbic humor creeping in.

“But it's different now,” Selphie said, nodding sagely. Her fingers found my arm, gripping lightly but in an attempt to show her sincerity. “Everybody agrees. You're one of us.”

I blinked at the way she said it. One of them. How long had it been since I had considered myself part of anything? I couldn't deny that the words were enough to send a warmth through my body, wisping away the subtle ache in my bones. Of course, I didn't let my reaction show on my face.

I settled for a teasing response. “Except that I'm neither a teenager nor a SEED.”

One hand waved through the air in a dismissing gesture. “Pooh. Trivialities.” And then she looked up at me, from beneath the fringe of her brown bangs. “On that matter, I also realized... I don't know when your birthday is!”

“I stopped aging at 27. I no longer count birthdays,” I informed her, my mind spinning at the sheer effort it would require to actually decide how old I was.

Her eyes rolled. “You can't just ignore your birthday, Vincent.” Her fingers tightened as she leaned forward eagerly. “So... when is it?”

Selphie was relentless when she was after something. And I knew that if I didn't tell her, she would nag me about me for the next few weeks, months even, until I broke down. So I saved myself the irritation, I told her.

It was at that point she got a particular gleam in her eye, one that didn't bode well for my safety. But rather than spout off some nonsense, she simply grinned and squeezed her arm.

“That's not long after Quisty's,” she said instead with a light chuckle. “Something you two have in common, ne?”

“Surprise!” Another voice shouted, louder this time, pulling me from my recollections. Arms threw themselves over my shoulders in a particularly enthusiastic hug, heedless to the fact I wasn't inclined to accepting affection in such a manner. “Well, are you surprised?”

That exuberance could only be Selphie. “I'm surprised,” I managed to grunt out, my eyes crossing at the sight of bright colors and sounds and good smells and the collection of dozens of people, most of them my students and acquaintances.

“Good,” Selphie chirped, all bubble and brightness in her short dress decorated with dazzling, bejeweled designs and a crown of leaves tilted chirpily across her head. “It's a bit late, but better that than never, ne? So welcome!”

Either she failed to notice my lack of energy, or had already dismissed it. Nevertheless, Selphie turned from me with a twirl and thrust her arms into the air.

“Let the party again!”

A rousing cheer accompanied her proclamation, and soon, music spilled into the brightly decorated ball room. I still stood in the doorway, part of me stuck on repeat and another part of me half-afraid to enter. This was not what I was expecting when Seifer dragged me here. And how in the hell had Selphie convinced Seifer to play along with this?

A chuckle echoed behind me, filled with amusement.

I whirled to face the blond, eyes narrowed. “You knew,” I said, voice low to keep others from hearing the annoyance in it. “You knew and you dragged me here anyway.”
Arms crossed, Seifer snickered, amused that he had managed to trick me into something.

“Selphie is a beast at persuasion,” he said with a fang-bearing smirk.

My eyes narrowed. There would be retribution for this. I promised it.

A hand grabbed mine, tugging me with a strong-armed jerk towards the center of the ballroom. “You have to let me introduce you!” Selphie enthused, giving me little choice in the matter.

“Tilmitt, I know everyone,” I reminded her through glittered teeth, my last sight of Seifer one of the blond waving goodbye mockingly.

My retribution would be swift, painful, and possibly bloody. And just for kicks, I would somehow involve Selphie.

-- December 29, 4012 --

I found Squall on the bridge, not that I was looking for him but came across him in my midnight wanderings. The bridge was otherwise deserted, the many consoles in low power mode with the occasional emergency bulb lighting up the shadowy room. That and the light pouring from the city through the windows. We were currently parked just outside Esthar, a decidedly safe place, though it didn't take a genius to figure why Squall wasn't too keen on staying within the bright blue and pink city.

I never thought to ever see a place that shone as... colorfully as Esthar. And just like Squall, I was hesitant to visit Esthar. Especially the Presidential Palace where Squall's father had given him a standing invitation. Squall seemed mostly indifferent to Laguna Loire. Though considering he hadn't so much as seen his father for the entirety of his existence, I didn't blame him.

So why were we in Esthar in the first place? Because missing the birthday of the much-beloved president was something that could not be politically avoided.

That, and I strongly suspected Laguna had whined for a long time about being unable to see his son and hinting that he wanted to get to know Squall better. I could only assume that Squall had eventually caved, likely on Rinoa's and Selphie's (Laguna's biggest fan) urging as well.

Cold persona aside, Squall was weak to the requests of those special to him. Even if he didn't show it.

The brightness of Esthar cast a strange light on Squall's face as he stood in the bridge, just behind the main console. He was the very picture of a troubled leader, shoulders set and fatigue lining his face, even more now that Rinoa wasn't serving as a constant distraction.

“Might I offer a suggestion?” I posed, knowing that I wouldn't startle Squall. He had to have heard both the elevator and my footsteps, as I had made no attempt to hide either.

He glanced over his shoulder with a dismissing shrug. “I can't stop you.”

Charming. If Squall didn't remind me so much of myself, I might have taken offense to that. But there was a lonely cast to his acerbic wit, and I knew a defense mechanism when I saw one.

“You are commander, yes?” I said, moving to stand beside him, my eyes sweeping over the view granted by the thick, wide-paned glass of the window. By Ifrit, Esthar was bright. “Then for lack of a more obvious word here, why don't you command?”

Surprised, Squall turned to look at me, face pinched with confusion.

I enlightened him. “You have many friends here, people you can trust. Delegate, Leonhart. There is no rule that dictates you must be the one to sort through all the mission requests or mission reports or student evaluations and so on,” I explained, though I wondered why I felt it necessary to offer Squall some advice. Maybe because I saw so much of WorkAHolic Reeve in him. “Your friends would be thrilled if you included them. Even Rinoa.”

Ms. Heartilly had remained a dear friend to Squall, despite their mutual split. She spent her time divided between Balamb Garden, and occasionally disembarking to visit her father in Galbadia, or to participate in yet another independence talk within Timber.
Squall seemed thoughtful, as though honestly considering my suggestion.

I folded my arms behind my back, my mind skipping back several millenia. “I had a friend once who was very much like you,” I added quietly, thinking of Reeve who Squall resembled in very many ways. “Only, he never learned to delegate. And before I realized what was happening, he died of stress-induced heart failure before he was fifty.”

It had been a failure on my part, something I hadn't forgotten over the years. If I had been playing closer attention, if I hadn't been so wrapped up in my shell of indifference, I would have noticed. I could have done something. More importantly, I would have been there.

But engrossed in my own pathetic guilt, I hadn't noticed. I had been an absent presence. And I had never given him anything.

Squall looked at me again, something strange in his eyes. “Delegate,” he repeated, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Quistis is better at managing. And Rinoa does have a knack with politics. Perhaps you have a point.”

“I know I do.” I turned to face Squall, trying to prove a very important point here. I locked eyes with stormy blue. “This can be a career or this can be a job. You have to decide. I don't want to see you suffering to fix what you didn't break.”

For a child, Squall's eyes could be quite knowing. And when they returned my solid look with equal understanding, a small, hidden part of me quailed in the midst of that piercing look. “This friend... he was more than a friend?”

“He was my lover if that's what you are asking,” I said, unashamed, and if it helped Squall to understand better than I was willing to divulge. “And I hadn't noticed in time to save him.”

“Maybe he didn't want you to know. Like he thought he was protecting you.”
I turned thoughtful. “I wouldn't put it past Reeve to do something like that. Though I admit his reluctance to inform me or rely on me was my fault as well.”

Squall was silent a minute. “Tell me about him.”

I hesitated, my memories spotty and my heart trying to drag me back into the past. “Reeve was--”

Amber eyes and big smiles and a beard brushing my jaw when we kissed and the smell of stolen hand lotion and laughter and lazy moments in bed and golden warmth and home and I look into his eyes, he doesn't ask for anything, and I love him, I swear to Shiva that I love him, why didn't I say it?

“--the first lover I took after the war. He was formerly in ShinRa, but afterwards, made it is his personal mission to rectify ShinRa's wrongs by forming the World Regenesis Organization.” My hands tightened behind my back. “It was his downfall.”

“You loved him.”

The tightening feeling in my chest had to be an illness of a sort. I was gripping my own fingers with a tenacity that surprised me, including the heat banking behind my eyes and the clenching in my throat. I hadn't talked about Reeve – except for bland recitation – for a long time. I hadn't stopped to think about him. I hadn't allowed myself to think about him.

But now I was. Now I remembered.

“He never asked me for anything,” I said, my voice toneless but my thoughts taking me back, back, back. “But I always said I didn't have anything to give.” My tongue dragged over my lips as I swallowed thickly. “Regret is a crushing feeling, Squall. And your life is too short to turn anything away.”

He looked away, seemingly fascinated by the blue glow of Esthar City before us, twinkling even in the dead of night. “You always dated men?”

“Date is a juvenile word, but yes, mostly. Except for one special case. When your DNA is altered like mine, you wouldn't want to inflict a possible pregnancy on a woman.”

Squall seemed to be considering something as he looked at his hands, bare for once of their usual leather gloves. He also lacked his leather jacket, dressed down in nothing more than a pair of low-slung sweat pants and a white t-shirt. Slim and pale, he scarcely resembled the perfect picture of a commander of the most powerful, functional mercenary organization in all of Gaea. The fact that he was only recently eighteen added to my point.

“Irvine's actually smart when it comes to numbers and accounting. Selphie is a beast at organizing schedules. And even Seifer – arrogance aside – is useful in discipline.”
I noticed that he hadn't mentioned Zell. Saying as much treated me to the sight of an uncomfortable Squall lightly blushing. He shifted in discomfort.

“Zell is a different story all together,” Squall said finally, examining his palms as though they held the secret to his future. “He's...”

“Always there every time you turn around,” I supplied, understanding Squall's confusion as I remember Leora subjecting me to much the same. “He doesn't ask. But he's there anyway. Even if you didn't know that you needed him.”

Squall leaned forward, on the railing just behind the steering column. “Yeah, something like that.”

“I don't suppose I need to ask that you've noticed his affections for you.”
A slight, not-quite-amused chuckle slipped from Squall's lips. “Do you take classes in how to dance around a subject or does it just come naturally?”

“A little bit of both.” I felt a smirk try to creep into my expression, but toned it down for the sake of offering advice where obviously Squall felt rather torn. “Would I be correct in assuming that homosexuality is frowned upon here? Or is it a personal misgiving towards the male in question?”

Squall considered, shoulders hunching as he leaned further over the rail. “Neither.”
I hummed noncommittally, trying to pin together what I knew of Squall to what the normal reaction in this case would be. “Then it seems too sudden,” I guessed, since he and Rinoa had only ended things six months ago and Rinoa still lingered, no doubt making the thought of any romantic liaison uncomfortable. “And you're still not sure of your own feelings.”

“... Maybe.”

Which for Squall, was a yes.

My fingers tapped across the railing as I took up position on the other side of Squall, watching Esthar City hum brightly just through the window. “You have two options here,” I began, still finding it odd to be in a position of the one giving advice. But someone had to help these young heroes. “You could let your fear speak for you and linger in indecision until the chance passes you by – and it is fear that's holding you back, Squall. Don't try and tell me otherwise.”

He opened his mouth as though to say something, but I barreled on, not giving him a chance to deny that he was afraid of something as gentle and yet at the same time terrible as love and romance and emotions and all that.

“Or you could realize that life is short – even more so when you are in an occupation such as this and believe me, resurrection is not always possible – and take a chance. Who knows? You might find that it was worth it.”

Squall didn't look at me. “Is it?”

For two little words, it was a pointed question. Especially when I applied it to myself. Was it worth it? Worth the pain afterward, the knowledge of being alone again, the struggle to recover when they left me behind over and over. For under a century of warmth? For the little smiles and gestures and arguments and holidays and kisses and laughter....

Somewhere, in the back of my senses, I heard the elevator humming as it rose. And I strongly suspected I knew who was on the lift. If the fighter's Squall Senses were anything to go by.

“It is,” I said softly, thinking of warmth that felt like home and crushing feelings of regret. “It's worth every minute of it. But I'll let you figure that out for yourself.”

The elevator dinged and a body spilled into the bridge, prompting Squall to turn around. I didn't bother; I had already guessed the identity of the visitor.

“It's like, two in the morning, what the heck are you guys doin' on the bridge?” Zell demanded, nonchalant but painfully curious.

I chuckled, to myself more than anything, and stepped down from the raised dais, making a beeline for the lift. “Admiring the view,” I said, passing by Zell. “Good night, Leonhart,” I added, over my shoulder.

He lifted a hand in wordless farewell, most of his attention saved for Zell who was swiftly approaching. “And why aren't you asleep?” Squall asked, as surprised to find Zell there as I wasn't.

The elevator closed on Zell's answer, and I smiled to myself. Hopefully, Squall would take my advice on all things.

Coughing into my hand, I pressed the button for the first floor, finally feeling as if I could sleep.

* * * * *

a/n: Soooo, instead of a Vincent/Squall pairing, I turned Vincent into a father-figure. Seriously, I really don't get how my brain works. Heh.

Still, I hope you enjoyed anyway! Comments are always, always welcome. And I've got my fingers crossed that some bored and inspired artist will surprise me. *looks around hopefully*

Coming up next week: Irvine learns Vincent's secret, things go bad, Seifer makes his move, and things get worse. Bwa ha ha!