Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Xu explains the field exam on the train to Timber. Resistance has been building against the occupying Galbadian forces, and there are rumours of a possible attack on the town’s food production fal’Cie. If an attack is launched, Galbadia thinks it’ll be launched today. Squad B’s task is to remain with the fal’Cie and protect it from any intruders.

Something about it is bothering him, Squall thinks, skulking around at the back of his mind, but he can’t work out why. Not that it matters. It’s not his job to question the mission; it’s his job to carry it out.

It seems easy enough. There may well be no attack at all. Of course, in that case nobody’s likely to pass the exam; it’ll be a test of who’s best at standing around and waiting, and it’s hard to find out who’s SeeD material from that.

The other issue is that for some reason Squall has been put in charge of this squad, and that means he can’t just focus on following commands; he needs to keep the others in line. Zell is overzealous and Squall is almost certain that he’ll forget they’re supposed to keep unnecessary chatter to a minimum, but at least he seems willing to follow Squall’s orders. Seifer...

“We are authorised to use only nonlethal force against resistance members,” Xu is saying. “The occupying force are already unpopular and don’t wish to make themselves more so. Of course, Garden’s reputation is also at stake.”

“Oh, one of those missions,” Seifer says, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, Seifer, one of those,” Xu says, coolly. “You’ve already taken every opportunity to show us how good you are at sticking your gunblade in things; this time, try showing us that you can exercise restraint.”

Seifer could be a problem.

The building that houses Timber’s food production fal’Cie is enormous, dominating the central square. Two Galbadian soldiers stand guard outside it. They both nod at Squall as the squad approaches, and one of them unlocks the large double doors – the doors are always kept locked; there was a time when tourists were allowed to visit the fal’Cie under supervision, but Squall vaguely recalls that that practice was stopped after some kind of incident – and stands back to let them through.

They step into a spacious stone-built room, a few degrees cooler than outside. It seems very dark after the bright sunlight of the square. Squall stays still for a moment after the heavy doors have closed behind him, listening to Zell’s echoing footsteps, waiting for the glare to fade from his eyes.

When his eyes adjust he sees that the fal’Cie isn’t actually here; it must be some sort of hall preceding the fal’Cie’s chamber. A similarly tall, elaborate pair of carved double doors stand opposite the ones they came in by. It’s not hard to guess where they need to go.

Squall takes two steps towards the second set of double doors, and they open.

A young woman stumbles through the gap in the doors and lets them fall shut behind her, with a bang that echoes around the stone hall. She’s holding her arms around herself, and the first thing Squall notices about her is her clothes, blue and black. Not SeeD, not Galbadian army. A civilian?

The second thing he notices is that she’s injured, bleeding and bruised and unsteady on her feet, as if she’s taken on something far beyond her ability in a fight and barely managed to get away.

A resistance member? They may already be too late, if she was in the fal’Cie’s chamber.

The woman stumbles, falls to her hands and knees on the stone flags.

“Hey,” Zell says, uneasily, “d’you think she’s—”

“Rinoa!”

Squall jerks back as Seifer bolts past him. It takes him a moment to realise Seifer was the one who shouted – his voice was almost unrecognisable – but by then Seifer is already by the stranger, trying to help her to her feet. She half-rises but then falls again, with an inarticulate noise of pain.

And something changes in the atmosphere of the room. For a moment Seifer goes completely still and silent, and then he curses viciously. Zell draws in a breath sharply beside Squall. Squall doesn’t understand what’s happened at first, and then he sees it: an elaborate black brand on the stranger’s forearm. Her injuries are the least of her worries. She’s a l’Cie.

“The fal’Cie did this to you?” Seifer demands.

“I was just – I was trying to—” She cuts herself off and closes her eyes for a moment, shivering, trying to slow her breathing down.

“What the hell, Rinoa, I told you not to get involved! You knew the exam was today!”

“I couldn’t just do nothing,” she snaps.

Seifer raises a hand, and Zell gives a surprised squawk. When Seifer brings his hand down again and the stranger – almost certainly a resistance member – is bathed in green light, Squall realises that he was Drawing. It’ll count against him on the evaluation – Drawing from conscious squadmates is strongly discouraged – but Seifer has always refused to stock Cure spells of his own.

Some of her smaller injuries have started to heal when the light fades, but she still probably needs medical attention. Not that it can do much for her, now that the fal’Cie has her. In any case, the first thing to do is to establish whether the mission has been failed.

“Did you attack the fal’Cie?” Squall asks, stepping forward. “Did you destroy it?”

She looks confused. “Why would I” – she lets out a hiss of pain, grabs her ankle with one hand – “would I try to destroy it?”

Squall frowns. “You’re a member of the Timber resistance, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but we need to eat too. I wasn’t going to attack our main food source.”

“If you didn’t intend to attack the fal’Cie,” Squall says, his frown deepening, “why are you here?”

She swallows. “I just wanted to talk to it.”

“Talk to it?”

“You know, negotiate.” Her shivering is getting worse. “I wanted to get it to stop providing food to the army. But...” She hugs her knees to her chest, wrapping a hand around her forearm to hide the brand.

This doesn’t make sense. A resistance member took the risk of breaking in just to talk to the fal’Cie?

Actually, that’s not the only strange thing about this situation. Why did it make her a l’Cie? Squall had assumed the fal’Cie was acting to protect itself: she was attacking it, so it gave itself some measure of control over her. But if she was just trying to talk...

Was she just... convenient? The fal’Cie wanted something done, so it grabbed the first available human and forced her to do it?

It’s certainly a possibility. Does that mean it would have tried to make them l’Cie while they guarded it, though, if this girl hadn’t been available?

In that case, it still might. He’s heard of multiple l’Cie being assigned the same Focus before: if the first is unwilling or incapable, if it’s too large a task for one person to accomplish.

He draws breath to say they should be careful and realises a split-second before he speaks that it’s not actually what he’s going to say at all. The sight of the injured resistance member, gripping her l’Cie brand – she just wanted to talk to it – sparks something in him, a feeling or a memory, and he says, very calmly, “I’m going to destroy the fal’Cie.”

There’s a moment’s silence. It doesn’t last long.

“Are you crazy?” Zell demands, at the same time Seifer says, still looking at the resistance member, “Leave the finishing blow to me.”

“You can’t!” the resistance member exclaims. “Timber will starve!”

“They can trade for food,” Seifer says. “Or learn to hunt for themselves. It’s not gonna get away with this.”

“Does anyone else care that this is the exact opposite of our mission?” Zell asks, desperately. “And also that it’s crazy and that thing will definitely kill us?”

“Wouldn’t’ve expected you to suggest it,” Seifer says, looking askance at Squall. “Guess I taught you well.”

Just hours ago, Squall thinks, he was on the train, worrying that Seifer might do something rash and screw up the mission. It’s almost funny. “This isn’t about you.”

“If it’s about me, forget it,” the resistance member implores.

Squall frowns. I don’t know you, he thinks. He decides against saying it.

“Has anyone ever killed a fal’Cie?” Seifer asks, looking thoughtful. “Maybe it’ll release you from your Focus.”

She shakes her head. “Seifer, you’ll die. Even if you don’t, you’ll just be cutting off a town’s food supply. I’m not gonna let you do this.”

Squall turns and walks through the doors to the fal’Cie chamber as they argue, and there it is: the fal’Cie Anima, exposed and huge and almost motionless, staring at him with its blank eyes. There’s nobody between them; the resistance member must have come alone. Squall has the feeling it’s waiting for him to make the first move.

He isn’t surprised when Seifer follows him in a moment later.

“Planning to take all the glory for yourself?” Seifer asks.

Glory? Nobody is going to thank them for this. “I thought she didn’t want you to fight.”

Seifer shrugs. “That’s what Sleep spells are for.”

The doors open behind them again, and Squall glances back. Zell.

“Squall,” Zell says, his eyes fixed on the fal’Cie, his voice shaking like a Caterchipillar that’s been hit by a Tornado spell, “you are insane. That thing is gonna kill us. Do you understand? We’re all gonna die.”

“I’m not asking you to get involved,” Squall says, quietly. “If you want to, you can wait outside.”

“What, and leave you to get yourself killed?”

“If you’re worried about passing the exam, contact Garden and tell them what I’m doing. You’re allowed to move against the squad leader if he acts to endanger the mission.”

“I’m not worried about becoming a SeeD, you idiot, I’m worried about you!”

Squall frowns. “Why?”

Zell gapes at him.

And then Seifer is cocking his gunblade beside him. “You two boys can have all the heart-to-hearts you want later. This was just about to get interesting. We gonna fight this thing or not?”

He’s speaking casually, as if he’s only in this for a good battle, but there’s a break in his voice even Squall can’t miss. Who is this resistance member?

Not that it matters.

Squall draws his blade.

“Hey.” Zell catches hold of the sleeve of Squall’s uniform jacket. “As I might be about to die for you, can you at least tell me why you decided to pick a fight with a fal’Cie?”

“I never asked you to do anything for me.”

“C’mon, man.”

Squall hesitates. “It took something important from me.”

“What, really? Must’ve been a hell of an important thing. What was it?”

He hesitates again. It’s a strange answer, he knows, but it’s the only one he has.

“I can’t remember,” he says.

Chapter Text

Shiva vanishes in a shimmer of ice, and Squall is himself again, blinking blood out of his eyes. The instant he has his bearings, he’s back on the offensive. The manipulators have regenerated yet again, but by this point he’s got a good idea of where to concentrate his attacks, at least.

They need to work fast. Getting into drawn-out fights is usually a bad idea anyway – he doesn’t even know whether fal’Cie can tire – but that isn’t the only reason; Garden will be remotely videotaping them for evaluation purposes later. Squall doesn’t know whether someone will be checking the live feed during the exam itself, but it seems likely. They could be stopped at any moment.

Rationally, he knows that being stopped is probably the best outcome. They’re already flagging, even with the protection of the GFs. Seifer’s the worst off; he’s not watching their target’s moves, which means he can’t dodge them and Zell has to keep throwing Cures his way just to keep him on his feet. Squall isn’t even certain that they’re making progress; it seems Anima can regenerate destroyed parts within a couple of minutes. Zell is getting off hits on the main body while Squall and Seifer keep the manipulators occupied, but they can’t be sure that it’s not repairing that damage as well. Are they really going to be able to destroy this thing, just the three of them?

There’s still a part of him, though, whispering that maybe it’s possible. Even if he doesn’t really know what destroying it would mean to him.

The double doors creak open behind him, but Squall is too preoccupied with the manipulators to see who’s entered. If he’s about to be arrested, he’s about to be arrested. For now, he’s fighting.

“Are you guys Squad B? Name’s Selphie; I’m a messenger, from Squad A. You know there’s someone sleeping on the floor back there?”

There’s something vaguely familiar about the voice, and now Squall does glance over his shoulder. It’s a young woman in cadet uniform; it takes him a moment to pinpoint her as the girl who asked him for a tour of the Garden this morning.

She seems to recognise him as well and breaks into a bright smile. “Hey, you’re the guy who showed me around!”

“You showed her around?” Zell asks, looking startled. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

What does Zell know about him? Squall pushes any response down and focuses on the fal’Cie, watching for the next opportunity to strike.

“Thanks! I don’t get so lost any more. Are you—” And then she seems to take in the scene before her: the whole of Squad B, fighting the fal’Cie they were called in to protect. “Oh, hey, that’s not right. You’ll get, like, super marked down for that.”

The doors crash open, and Quistis’s voice rings through the room. “Squad B! What in Etro’s name do you think you’re doing?”

And then everything goes dark.

a woman with strange markings on her face, and a castle, and a clock, its hands spinning and spinning and spinning.

He comes to lying on cold stone and slowly drags himself upright, wincing, holding a hand to his forehead. When he tries to step forward his legs falter, and he stumbles against a pillar and has to brace himself there until he feels in control.

They’re in the entrance hall, for some reason, not the fal’Cie chamber. The others are scattered around the room, some recovering, some still unconscious. When he edges one of the doors to the inner chamber open and looks in, he sees Anima, still there, still living. Of course. How were three people ever going to destroy a fal’Cie?

Squall lets the door fall closed and limps back into the entrance hall. It makes no sense, but there’s a part of him that feels almost elated. They may not have destroyed it, but they took on a fal’Cie and they survived.

His hip itches on the left side. He scratches it, and he catches sight of a flash of something dark against his skin, in the narrow gap between his cadet uniform trousers and the hem of his shirt, and that’s when he realises that of course he didn’t survive it. He may still technically be breathing, but the fal’Cie killed him in there.

He pulls up the side of his shirt a little, just to be sure. The mark of a l’Cie stands out, black and unmistakable. He lets his shirt fall to cover it and looks up to see Quistis staring at him, her hand over her mouth, looking horrified.

It’s all right if Quistis knows, he supposes. He’d prefer it if nobody knew he was a l’Cie, but at least she probably has the discretion not to blurt it out immediately, unlike, say, Zell.

But then Selphie bobs to her feet, calling out, “Everyone okay?”, and Squall tenses as he sees the same mark on the back of her knee. He’s not going to be able to hide it now, not if he wasn’t the only one it took. And what about Quistis, Zell, Seifer? Are they l’Cie as well?

Quistis, following Squall’s gaze to Selphie’s mark, seems to have the same thought and starts to look over herself, quickly. She pulls down her right sleeve to check her shoulder and her entire body slumps. It’s only for a moment, though, before she straightens up and draws Selphie aside to speak to her.

It’s a relief to Squall, who was beginning to think that he might have to tell Selphie about her brand himself; he’s never been good at delivering bad news. From Selphie’s expression, though, she seems to be taking it remarkably well. Quistis looks slightly bemused.

From Selphie, Quistis moves on to speak quietly to Zell. Squall watches for just long enough to be sure that Zell is a l’Cie – he takes off his right gauntlet; the mark is underneath – before turning away; he knows Zell will take it badly. To occupy himself while Zell comes to terms with the situation, Squall casts a Scan spell on Seifer, who hasn’t yet regained consciousness, making sure that he’s not too seriously injured. The Scan informs him that Seifer is a l’Cie as well. Squall closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and tries not to think.

The l’Cie resistance member is next to Seifer, holding his hand. Should he tell her? What is he supposed to do?

His eyes snap open when a dull thud echoes around the room; Zell has slammed his fist into the wall. Zell breathes hard for a long moment, doubled over, his hands braced on his knees, and then he straightens up and gestures in Squall’s direction; Squall can’t hear what he’s asking Quistis, but he thinks he can probably guess. Quistis glances at Squall, hesitating, then nods.

So that’s it; everyone is going to know. Zell looks over at Squall. Squall looks away.

They all stay there for a while, just sitting or standing on the stone floor, absorbing what happened. Well, apart from Selphie, who gets bored after a minute or two and goes to practise her fighting stance in a corner.

“Squall,” Zell says into the near-silence, staring at the symbol on the back of his hand, “I’ve gotta tell you I’m kind of pissed off with you right now. Like, I’m not going to punch you in the jaw, but I think you need to know I kind of really want to.”

“I told you not to get involved,” Squall points out, and Zell actually does punch him. He’s not wearing his gloves, of course, but it still hurts more than a little. Squall grunts in pain and brings a hand up to the side of his face.

“Zell,” Quistis says, sharply.

Zell lets his fists drop, his expression changing in a second from rage to horror. “Oh, man, sorry. You okay? I just – ” He gestures, helplessly. “You’re just so stupid sometimes.”

“He’s not wrong,” Quistis says, sounding more amused now. “I might have hit you if you’d said the same to me. Are you all right, Squall?”

Squall stares at them both, still holding his hand to his face. It’s going to bruise, he can tell already, but not too badly. “Whatever.”

What’s so stupid about what he said? It’s only the truth. He told Zell not to get involved. Zell didn’t listen.

God, all these people – Quistis, Zell, Selphie – are l’Cie because of him. Why couldn’t they have just stayed out of his battle? It shouldn’t have become anyone else’s problem.

He tries to bury the thought. At least he’s fairly certain that Seifer would have gone after the fal’Cie whether Squall had attacked it or not. And there’s nothing they could have done for the resistance member, really.

Although maybe if they had moved a little faster, got there a little earlier...

No point thinking about it.

The resistance member hasn’t moved; she’s still here, stooping over Seifer, who is beginning to stir.

“You sure you’re okay?” Zell asks Squall, looking anxious, and then he seems to notice the resistance member as well. “Oh, hey, how’re you doing?” She looks up. He displays the branded back of his hand to her with a grimace. “Looks like we’re all in the same boat now, right? So I guess we should introduce ourselves. I’m Zell.”

All in the same boat. It’s not an expression Squall likes, but he can’t deny that, one way or another, none of the six of them is going to be living much longer.

“...Rinoa,” the resistance member says, after a moment. She looks back at Seifer. “You’re all from Garden, right? Do any of you have any Cure spells? I don’t have a GF, so I can’t—”

But a green glow is building in the fingertips of the hand she has resting on Seifer’s chest – it began when she said ‘Cure spells’ – and now she makes a startled noise as green light spirals out from her hand to engulf him. As it dissipates, Seifer coughs, twice, harsh and grating, and blinks his eyes open.

“...of course,” Rinoa half-whispers, staring at her hand. “l’Cie. They can use real magic.”

“Like a Sorceress,” Seifer says, dragging himself into a sitting position, his legs stretched out in front of him, his eyes fixed on hers. A pained smirk plays on his lips. “We’ll get through this,” he says, in a tone Squall has never heard him use before; his voice is light, but his eyes don’t waver from Rinoa’s. “You just need a knight to help you complete your Focus.”

It’s not something Squall would have expected himself to notice, but it’s the first time he’s ever been in the same room as Seifer and felt invisible. He’s not sure how he feels about that.

Rinoa punches Seifer on the shoulder. “I could kill you right now! I told you not to fight it! Why didn’t you listen?”

Seifer shrugs. “We got out, right? See, you shouldn’t have doubted me.”

“That’s not the point!” Rinoa exclaims, and then she hesitates, glancing back at Zell. She leans over to whisper something to Seifer, and Seifer stares at her for a moment before checking himself all over. When he pulls up the leg of his trousers, there it is, just above his right ankle: the l’Cie brand.

And that’s it. He knew about Seifer already, of course, but actually seeing the brand brings the situation into sharper relief, somehow. Six of them. Six l’Cie. Most of them l’Cie because of his own stupid mistake.

Squall wonders whether they all have the same Focus.

Squall wonders what kind of Focus needs six people to carry it out.

Chapter Text

“Squall Leonhart. Seifer Almasy,” Cid says, gravely. “Not only did you act contrary to the mission, but you endangered the entire town of Timber by attacking its main food source. You understand that I have no choice but to expel you from Garden. You have twenty-four hours to collect your possessions, return your GFs and say your goodbyes.”

Squall says nothing. It’s what he was expecting. Beside him, Seifer makes a contemptuous noise, as if he hadn’t spent half his life striving to become a SeeD.

Cid turns his attention to the others with them. “Zell, Selphie, you are not being held responsible for the events of the field exam. You won’t become SeeDs on this occasion, of course, but you may remain in the Garden and take the exam next year as usual.”

Zell glances over at Squall. “Thanks, Headmaster, but I don’t know if I’ve got that long. I think I’m gonna stay with Squall. Gotta complete our Focus, right?”

What?

Cid nods. “Very well. Selphie? For the sake of the Garden’s reputation you would need to conceal the fact that you are a l’Cie, but—”

“No, thanks,” Selphie interrupts him. Cid looks slightly taken aback. “Like, no offence or anything, but this whole l’Cie adventure thing sounds like it could be more fun.”

What l’Cie adventure thing? Why do Zell and Selphie seem to have decided that they’re all going to be travelling together? Squall wasn’t planning any sort of adventure; he was just going to...

...actually, he doesn’t know what he was going to do. Garden is all he can remember. Where does he go now?

After a moment, Cid nods. “All right. I’m sorry to be losing four promising cadets today, but I suppose it can’t be helped. I wish you luck in completing your Focus.” He sets the incident report to one side on his desk. “Can you send Instructor Trepe in as you leave? We need to discuss her position.”

Squall is clearing out his dorm – taking what he needs, throwing the rest away – when there’s a knock at the door. Frowning slightly, he straightens up and goes to open it.

“Zell,” he says.

“Yo, Squall.” Zell steps through the doorway, looking curiously around him. Squall isn’t sure why; he’s never thought of his room as particularly interesting.

“Was there something you wanted?” Squall asks, when Zell has been staring at his gunblade case for longer than he’s comfortable with.

“Oh, yeah!” Zell exclaims. “There’s something on Garden Square I think you should see. C’mon.”

Garden Square? There’s never anything worth reading on there; it’s all arguments and strange people talking about Instructor Trepe. “Can’t you tell me yourself?”

“No, c’mon, man. This is important.”

Maybe they’ve pledged to keep hot dogs in stock at all times from now on and Zell has decided he can’t leave after all. “All right. Show me.”

Squall,
They revoked my instructor’s licence. I’d probably have resigned if they hadn’t; I think all our priorities have changed now.
The Headmaster told me it seemed you all planned to travel together. I’d like to join you, if you’ll allow me to. I’ll be waiting at the front gate.
I hope you see this before you leave.

Quistis

What?! They revoked your licence? You’re the best instructor ever! We’ve gotta protest or something!

Trepe Groupie #1

Wait, this means you can date students now, right?

Trepe Groupie #1

Squall presses a hand over his face. Why does she only address him by name, as if he’s somehow the leader of their apparently-a-group? He’s no good with responsibility; why do these people keep trying to force it on him?

“So we’re gonna let her come with us, right?” Zell asks, next to him. “I figure the more of us there are working on this Focus thing, the better our chances.”

Squall considers. Quistis is intelligent, reasonably level-headed, an asset in a fight. If he really cared about completing his Focus, he’d want her with him. But he’s a l’Cie; he’s already lost. Whether they complete their Focus or not, this doesn’t end well for any of them.

So why can’t the people who think that completing their Focus makes a difference look for it together, without him? Why do they have to look to him as if he’s some kind of leader? On his own, it wouldn’t matter whether he completed his Focus or not. Now, if they don’t complete it, he’ll be letting everyone down.

He nods. “We can meet her on our way out.”

“Great!” Zell enthuses. “Pretty sure Selphie’s waitin’ in the lobby, too. You know, I actually feel good about our chances right now.”

What chances? “We don’t even know what our Focus is.”

Zell looks uncomfortable. “Well, yeah, but... we all had the same vision, right? Maybe we can work it out if we all think about it.”

What do they have to go on? A woman; Squall has already forgotten her face. A huge, shadowy castle. A clock face, superimposed over some sort of old-fashioned town square he’s never seen before. Are they supposed to fight that woman? Help her? Maybe they’re just meant to repair the clock in her castle; it’s not as if any other explanation for their shared vision makes more sense. How is anyone ever supposed to work out what a fal’Cie wants them to do? This is impossible.

“Let’s go,” he says, pushing himself away from the computer.

When they reach the front gate, Quistis is indeed there, but she isn’t alone; the Timber resistance member in blue (what was her name? Rinoa?) is with her. Selphie waves enthusiastically at both of them and at a passing male student who, judging from his confused expression, doesn’t appear to know her.

“I was beginning to think you’d missed my message,” Quistis says with a smile. “You remember Rinoa.”

Rinoa raises a hand in greeting. There’s a slight stiffness to her movements – she’s probably still feeling the effects of engaging a fal’Cie without a Guardian Force – but she looks better than she did the first time they met. “Hey.”

“Hey!” Zell and Selphie chorus. Squall nods.

“I came here to wait for Seifer,” Rinoa says. She’s wearing blue armwarmers now, Squall notices, to cover her l’Cie mark. “Then Quistis here told me you were all gonna look for our Focus together, so I thought, y’know, if you’ll have me... I mean, it sounds like you guys saw the same thing I did. The castle and Winhill and stuff, right?”

“Winhill?” Selphie asks, tilting her head.

“Oh, right. It’s this tiny little Galbadian town. My dad took me there a few times when I was a kid.”

“I did see some sort of town square,” Quistis says. “There was a sort of flower design in the centre. And a statue, I think.”

Rinoa nods. “Yeah, that’s Winhill.”

Zell looks over at Squall, grinning. “See? We’ve got a lead already.”

“So you’re going there, right?” Rinoa asks. She’s looking at Squall as well, as if this is his decision. “Can I come with you?”

Squall frowns. You’re a civilian, he almost says, but they’re all civilians now. “We don’t know the details of our Focus,” he says instead. “It could be dangerous. You won’t have our combat experience.”

“You’re saying I might hold you back?”

“I’m saying you could be killed.”

“Well, I’m gonna try to complete my Focus either way,” she says, after a moment. “Guess I’d better stick with the ones with ‘combat experience’.” She glances around. “Plus I’m kind of worried about Seifer. Not that I think you guys can’t handle him or anything, but still.”

Seifer? It hadn’t even occurred to Squall that he might want to come. Stress can hasten the transition into a Cie’th, and Squall can’t imagine many things that would be more stressful for Zell than having Seifer travelling with them.

Zell has turned pale. “Seifer? He’s not coming, is – is he?”

“Thought you’d leave without me?” asks a voice from behind them.

Seifer strides past them, holding Hyperion unsheathed. Rinoa and Selphie greet him cheerfully; Quistis casts a cautious glance at Zell.

“Don’t look so terrified, Chicken-wuss,” Seifer says with a laugh, clapping a hand on Zell’s shoulder; Zell jerks and clenches his hands into fists. “Like I’d actually want to go with you guys.”

“C’mon, Seifer, don’t be like that,” Rinoa says. “We’ve gotta have a better chance of finding our Focus if we all work together.”

“Er,” Quistis begins, quietly, “I’m not so sure that’s a good...”

“Please,” Rinoa implores him. “I don’t want to be a Cie’th.”

Quistis pauses as they’re walking towards Balamb town, turns back.

“Did you forget something?” Squall asks.

She shakes her head. “I just thought I’d take a last look at the Garden. It’s strange to think I might not see it again. It’s been my home for such a long time.” She looks over at Squall. “Yours too, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Zell says, turning and jogging backwards a few paces, “this is weird.” He hesitates. “Can we stop in Balamb? I need to say—” His voice catches, and he rolls his shoulders awkwardly before trying again. “I need to see my ma.”

Squall doesn’t look back. Neither, striding some distance ahead in grim silence, does Seifer.

Chapter Text

Winhill isn’t exactly accessible. There are no trains or roads there; it’s cut off completely by mountains. No ships run there from Balamb. Rinoa has assured them that there are ships from Timber, though, and so they’re on a train there, Selphie looking out of the window – despite the fact that they’re in the undersea tunnel – and humming happily.

“I love trains,” she says, wistfully. “Like half the reason I took that exam was ’cause I wanted to see the SeeD private cabin.”

Quistis stifles a laugh. “Well, you’re not missing too much.”

Squall is only half-listening, his mind elsewhere, but he still tenses when he hears footsteps approaching from behind – no GF; still getting used to magic; gunblade under seat, need at least three seconds to retrieve it – before he registers that it’s just Rinoa.

“Thought you looked pretty lonely, sitting here on your own,” she says, dropping down onto the seat opposite him.

“I’m fine,” he says.

“It’s silly, isn’t it?” she asks, sitting back. “There’s space here for six people to sit facing each other. And instead it’s me and Seifer back there, Quistis and Selphie over there, and then you and Zell off by yourselves.”

“I’m fine,” he says again, but something in what she just said makes him glance along the carriage.

She’s right; Zell is sitting on his own. He’s not talking or getting pissed off or picking fights with the air; he’s just staring out of the window at the blackness of the tunnel.

Rinoa lowers her voice. “That’s actually why I came over to talk to you.”

He looks at her. “Zell?”

“He’s been quiet since he went to visit his mom. You hadn’t noticed? I mean, I haven’t known him for long, but it’s not exactly hard to tell he’s upset.”

Squall hadn’t noticed anything. Now that he thinks about it, though, things have seemed quieter since Zell came back from his house. “What do you expect me to do about it?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, look out for him? He respects you. I think you could help.”

“It sounds like you’re looking out for him already.”

“I can’t always watch out for him,” Rinoa says. She lowers her voice even further, with a mock-furtive glance over Squall’s shoulder. “Someone’s gotta keep Seifer in line, right?”

Squall looks over at Zell again. It’s strange to see him so subdued. But it’s not like Squall’s going to be able to help.

“Just go and sit with him,” Rinoa suggests. “He’ll feel better if he’s not alone.”

Or maybe he wants some time alone to think. Either way, Squall’s not going to be able to cheer him up; it’s just not something he’s good at. “He’ll be fine.”

Rinoa frowns a little. “Hmm. Well, okay; you’ve known him longer than I have. But I’d still keep an eye on him, just in case.”

“I’m not responsible for Zell.”

“That’s a pretty cold thing to say,” Rinoa says, after a moment.

Squall looks out into the darkness. “Whatever.”

There’s a pause, and then the rustling of Rinoa standing up and footsteps as she makes her way back up the carriage. Squall doesn’t turn to look.

When the train eventually pulls into Timber, he stands and turns, and pauses. He’d assumed that Rinoa would have gone back to sit with Seifer, but she’s with Zell. The two of them are laughing about something, so maybe Zell did just need company.

Rinoa was probably a lot better at cheering him up than Squall would have been, though. Why didn’t she just go to talk to him in the first place? Why try to push him onto Squall?

Things feel a little more normal now that Zell’s smiling again, at least.

When Squall raises his head, he sees that Seifer is watching the two of them as well.

Rinoa, it turns out, neglected to mention that the ships to Winhill don’t run every day.

“That’s very unfortunate timing,” Quistis says, looking over the departures at Timber. “Still, I think it’s best to travel by water. We’ll need to find somewhere to stay.”

Seifer gives her an incredulous look. “You’re planning to be stuck here for a day and a half?”

“I don’t imagine going by foot will get us there any faster.”

Seifer shakes his head and gets to his feet. “Do what you want. I’m walking.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Quistis says. “You’re planning to cross those mountains on your own? Do you even have any supplies?”

“Thank you for your concern, Instructor, but I can make my own decisions.”

“I can cover your room for the night, if that’s the issue.” She shrugs, with a half-smile. “One way or another, I suppose I won’t need my gil for much longer.”

“The issue,” Seifer says, “is that I’m tired of travelling with a bunch of idiots, but thanks for the offer.”

“What are you doing?” Rinoa asks.

Seifer glares at her. “What does it sound like?”

“Well, it sounds like you’re being a horrible person,” Rinoa says, folding her arms. “But I know that can’t be right, ’cause I like you, and I’m a great judge of character. So why don’t you tell me what I’m missing?”

Seifer opens his mouth, then closes it again, then looks away from her, back at the departures board. “I just don’t want to sit around waiting.”

“Okay,” Rinoa says. “Then I’ll go with you.”

He gives her a hard look. “Oh? Don’t you want to stay here with Dincht?”

“Hey, whoa, what?” Zell asks.

“Are you serious?” Rinoa asks. “You’re throwing a tantrum because I talked to someone?”

Seifer shakes his head. “Forget it,” he says. “I don’t need help. And I definitely don’t need people dragging me back.”

“I don’t need you being a big jerk,” Rinoa says, “but I’ll still go with you, ’cause that’s what friends are for.”

“Do what you want,” Seifer mutters, stalking past her. “But don’t expect me to help out if you run into a Grendel.”

“You don’t mean that!” Rinoa calls after him, but he’s already out of the departure lounge and there’s no answer. She sighs.

This might actually be for the best, Squall is thinking. If Seifer clashes with everyone, he’s a danger; the tension he creates might accelerate their l’Cie brands. But something about this makes him uneasy.

“Sorry, guys,” Rinoa says, with a quick smile, “but I’m gonna have to go after him. Don’t think it’s a great idea to leave him on his own. I mean, you’re his friends, aren’t you? You’ll know what he’s like.”

Friends? Squall thinks. (Behind him, Zell breaks into incredulous laughter.) That’s... not exactly how he would have put it.

But he does know what Seifer’s like. He doesn’t know many people, but he knows Seifer. A lot of people in Garden said that Raijin and Fujin were just tools Seifer used to further his bullying, but Squall has seen that Seifer has been calmer under their influence, less prone to dangerous decisions. She’s right; it’s best not to leave him alone.

He nods. “All right.” And then, because she’s a civilian, he adds, “Be careful.”

“Hey, uh,” Zell cuts in, “we’ve all got the same Focus, right? So if you and Seif complete it on your own, is that gonna count for us as well?”

Rinoa pauses, looking thoughtful. “Oh, hey, that’s a good question.”

It’s not a question that had occurred to Squall, and even now that it’s been brought up he doesn’t find himself that curious. Monster or crystal: what difference does it make, ultimately? Neither seems like any sort of life.

Selphie doesn’t seem especially concerned either, although she has a different reason. “Does it really matter? I always thought it’d be kind of cool to be a Cie’th.” She begins lunging around, making demonstrative growling noises. “They can get really strong, you know? And I hear some of them can fly.”

Zell stares wide-eyed at her, looking as if he expects her to turn into a Cie’th and bite his head off then and there.

“It’s certainly possible to complete another person’s Focus for them,” Quistis says after a moment, crossing her arms. “I don’t know whether things change if the person completing the Focus is a l’Cie with that Focus themselves, though. I don’t see why it would make any difference, but there’s an awful lot at stake if we get this wrong.”

Rinoa nods. “I guess I’ll see if I can get him to come back.”

Before she leaves, Rinoa hugs Selphie and Zell and Quistis (Quistis looks slightly taken aback), then taps Squall on the shoulder and says quietly into his ear, “Watch out for Zell, okay?”

“I’ve got it!” Selphie exclaims. “Okay, first we break into one of the trains, right?”

“I don’t know about this,” Quistis says.

“One of the trains that’ve been put away for the night, obviously, because otherwise it’s not really breaking in. Or I guess we could just get on a train like normal and sleep there and see where we are when we wake up!”

“Uh,” Zell says, “not that that doesn’t sound like a great idea, but we’re meant to be catching this boat tomorrow, right?”

“That’s the best part: when we wake up, we get to take the train back!”

There’s a pain building in Squall’s head, slowly but steadily. He presses two fingers hard against his scar.

“No,” Quistis says. “I’m sure there must be rooms available somewhere.”

“Oh, you’re no f... oh, hey, whoa.” A soft thud. “Guess I am pretty tired.”

“Selphie?” Zell’s voice. He sounds alarmed, but Squall can’t see his expression, can’t see what’s happened; everything in his field of vision seems to be melting into static. “Selph, you okay?”

“Squall?” Quistis asks.

“Wha? Squall, not you, too!”

Squall is vaguely aware of hitting the flagstones before he passes out.

Is this a dream? It feels too real. But it can’t be anything else; the alternative is that Squall has transformed into a completely different person, which seems extremely unlikely.

The person Squall seems to be is a Galbadian soldier, judging by his uniform, travelling through a forest with two others. Squall has never seen any of these people before. There are familiar voices, though, when he concentrates, flashing through his mind: Seifer, angry, asking what the hell’s going on, and a confused but cheerful voice Squall takes a moment to place as Selphie’s.

The Selphie in Squall’s mind apparently thinks that Squall, or at least the guy Squall currently inhabits – ‘Laguna’, according to the other men – is ‘cute’. For an instant, Squall is almost glad he’ll never be a SeeD; at least there’s no chance that this will ever come up in a mandatory post-mission psychological assessment.

The three men have managed to get themselves attacked by monsters. Squall tries to focus on that instead.

He still seems to have his l’Cie powers, even as this Galbadian. When he casts Fire on a Funguar, though, Laguna suddenly seems as confused as he is.

“Something you’re not telling us?” asks one of Laguna’s companions, a dark-skinned man who fights with twin blades.

Laguna stares at his hand. “I seriously have no idea how I did that. Oh, man, am I a l’Cie? Oh, man.”

“Pretty sure that’s the kind of thing you’d notice,” the third man says.

The blade-user shrugs. “Yeah, but if anyone could be chosen by a fal’Cie and not notice...”

“Guys, this isn’t funny!” Laguna exclaims. “I don’t know anything about my Focus! I’m gonna be a Cie’th!”

“Let’s get this over with, then,” the third man says, hefting his harpoon. “If you’re about to turn into a monster, we’ll make sure you can spend all the time you’ve got left staring at the piano lady.”

“Yeah, what else are friends for?” the blade-user asks, smirking.

“You guys are jerks,” Laguna mutters.

“Squall? Squall, you hearing me?”

Squall opens his eyes.

Own body. Not own bed, he thinks, before remembering that he’s been expelled from Garden; he doesn’t have a bed of his own any more. No immediate danger, as far as he can tell. He tries to think back to how he got here, wherever ‘here’ is, but all he can think of is the painfully drawn-out awkward flirtation he’s just had to endure in his dreams.

Zell sits back in the chair next to the bed, letting out a long breath. “You okay? Man, you guys really scared me.”

“Guys?” Squall asks, sitting up stiffly. His head hurts.

“You and Selphie, you both just collapsed in the middle of the street. What the hell happened?”

Squall blinks and frowns. Now that he really tries to remember... what did happen? “You’ll have to ask her.”

“Already did,” Zell says, with a shrug. “She came round just before you. Says she doesn’t know.”

Squall looks around. This doesn’t look like a hotel; it looks like a house. There are pictures of foxes all over the walls, for some reason. “You found somewhere to stay?”

“Only ’cause you passed out when the nicest woman in Timber was walking by,” Zell says. “This is her place. She helped me carry you in here, too. Quistis keeps trying to pay her.” He lowers his voice. “I think she might be part of the resistance. Makes me feel kind of bad about helpin’ Galbadia out in the exam.”

Not that they really ended up helping anyone, Squall thinks.

It’s good that they don’t have to worry about accommodation, but something’s bothering him. He collapsed in the street. And not just him; Selphie too, so it can’t have just been fatigue. Were they hit by some kind of sleep-weapon? A spell?

“Where’s Selphie?” he asks, pushing himself off the bed.

“Pretty sure she’s upstairs with Quistis,” Zell says. “Tell me if you figure out what happened. I...” He hesitates. “I think I’ll stay here for a while.”

“Squall!” Quistis exclaims, when she sees him. “Good to see you’re awake. Have you come to hear about the exploits of Sir Laguna? I’m afraid you might be hearing about them either way.”

Squall hesitates mid-step. “Wh-what?”

“I had such a great dream!” Selphie says, beaming. “And it felt so real! I was this guy called Kiros, and—”

“Selphie,” Squall says. What’s going on? This is impossible. “Was there a Ward in your dream as well? Were they all Galbadian soldiers?”

Selphie pouts. “Awww, I told you already?”

“You can’t have,” Quistis says, giving Squall a strange look. “Squall was unconscious the last time we saw him, and I’ve been with you since then. Squall, have you been listening in?”

Squall shakes his head. “I dreamt about the same guys,” he says.

“Hey, I heard you!” Selphie exclaims. “I remember hearing your voice in my dream! So you were actually there?”

It can’t be a coincidence, can it? He heard Selphie’s voice in his head as well. “I was Laguna.”

“Oh, lucky,” Selphie mutters. “So it was you casting that Thunder? You know, when he freaked out about using magic?”

“Fire,” Squall says.

She grins. “Yeah, I know; I was testing you. This is so cool!”

“How is this possible?” Quistis asks, looking back and forth between them.

“I don’t know,” Squall says.

“We all saw the same thing before, didn’t we?” Selphie asks. “How is this different?”

Quistis shakes her head. “I’ve never heard of l’Cie having shared visions after they’re first branded. And why wouldn’t the fal’Cie show it to all of us, if it’s important?”

“I hope it’s about our Focus,” Selphie says, gazing up at the ceiling with a little smile. “Maybe it’s my Focus to steal Sir Laguna away from that piano lady.”

The mystery of the shared dream at least gives Squall something to think about; without distractions he’d just end up dwelling on the future, if there’s anything that can be called a ‘future’ left for them. It doesn’t last, though, and by the time their ship sets off he’s almost pushed Laguna out of his mind. There’s no way of knowing what the dream really was. They’ll probably never find out.

He’s crossing the deck, thinking about Cie’th, when something catches his eye. Zell.

Zell is standing at the side with one hand on the railing, looking out over the ocean. Squall hesitates for a moment, watching him.

Rinoa told him to watch out for Zell. He hadn’t really thought Zell needed watching out for, he’d thought maybe Rinoa had helped him through whatever was bothering him already, but seeing him like this... something doesn’t feel right. Squall doesn’t remember ever seeing him this quiet and still at Garden. If there are people around, Zell will talk to them; that’s just who he is. It’s why Squall didn’t want to be teamed up with him for the field exam; unnecessary talk is hard enough for him to deal with at the best of times, and he knows it’s taken into account in SeeD evaluation. This is the guy who kept trying to engage Squall in conversation long after everyone else had given up the effort. And now they’re on a boat full of people, and he’s standing on his own.

But what’s Squall supposed to do?

Selphie would probably be more helpful. She seems to have a lot of energy; maybe she can... impart it, somehow.

Squall glances back to see if she’s nearby.

“Oh... hey, Squall.”

Oh. Oh, no. Zell’s spotted him.

“Zell,” Squall says.

“Guess we’ll be there soon, right?”

It’s a pointless question, so Squall doesn’t answer. They both already know they’ll be there soon.

He walks up beside Zell, though, and leans on the railing next to him. He tries to think of something to say, but nothing comes. Is he even supposed to be getting Zell’s mind off things or getting him to talk about them?

“Sorry, man,” Zell says, after a moment. “I guess I’ve been kind of quiet.” He pauses. “Well, I probably still seemed pretty loud to you.”

What’s that supposed to mean? “Rinoa was worried about you.”

He laughs a little. “Yeah, well, same to her. I hope Seifer’s not driving her crazy out there. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I don’t know, are you okay?” Zell asks. “You’re here with me. You’re not on your own somewhere. I figured maybe you wanted to talk.”

Squall looks away from him, out at the slowly-approaching coastline. “That’s not why I’m here.” He hesitates. Maybe it’d be easiest just to ask, now that Zell’s brought the subject up. “Did you?”

Zell goes quiet. Squall can hear him shifting next to him.

What if the reason Zell’s upset is that he’s a l’Cie? Of course that’s the reason; what else could it be? And it’s Squall’s fault that he was branded.

This was a mistake. He can’t stand here and listen to this.

“I’m worried about Ma,” Zell says, suddenly.

Squall looks over at him, startled. That wasn’t what he was expecting. “Did something happen to her?”

Zell shakes his head. “I couldn’t tell her what happened to me,” he says. “I tried, but... I couldn’t, y’know? I said I’d become a SeeD instead. Said I was going on a long mission.”

What is Squall supposed to say to that?

“And I just keep thinking... if I end up one of those monsters, she might never know what happened to me. But she’ll have to find out if I’m a crystal. And I don’t know which would be worse for her. I should’ve just told her when I had the chance.” He shifts uneasily, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “But she’ll be okay without me, right? I mean... I don’t know anyone stronger than my ma.”

They’re both silent for a while.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Squall says. “You should make sure you have your equipment.”

“Yeah, ’course,” Zell says. “Hey, thanks for listening, man. Feels good to talk about it.”

Squall nods, although he finds it hard to believe he’s done any good by just standing there.

Chapter Text

Quistis gives a soft, wordless exclamation of surprise as the ship pulls in, and Squall looks up to see someone standing on the dock in the evening light, waving at them: Rinoa.

“How did you get here so quickly?” Quistis asks her, when they’ve disembarked.

Rinoa laughs. “We’re just that good,” she says. “No, I think it’s because of the l’Cie thing. I don’t get tired as easily as I used to. And I know Seifer’ll probably say that he could always cross a mountain range without stopping, but I’m pretty sure it was being a l’Cie for him too.”

“Are you on your own now?” Squall asks.

Rinoa shakes her head. “Got a present for you,” she says, grinning. “Come on.”

She leads them out of the port. Seifer is sitting slumped on the steps at the base of the ticket office, his eyes closed and his elbows on his knees, rubbing two gloved fingers along the scar on his forehead.

“That’s a terrible present,” Squall hears Zell mutter beside him.

“Seifer,” Quistis says. “You came back.”

“Wasn’t gonna miss all the fun, was I, Instructor?” He opens his eyes and smirks. “Besides, Rinoa told me you guys didn’t stand a chance without me. Couldn’t exactly sit back and let you all turn Cie’th.”

Zell is already shaking. “Like you actually care whether we’re Cie’th or not, jerk.”

The smirk quickly turns into a scowl. “Believe what you want.”

“Why the hell—”

“Guys, don’t fight!” Selphie interrupts them.

“I’d advise listening to Selphie,” Quistis says. “This is exactly the sort of thing that accelerates becoming a Cie’th. If we want to succeed, we need to work together.”

“Now shake hands and be friends,” Selphie demands.

Both Seifer and Zell stare incredulously at her. She puts her hands on her hips and glares fiercely back, apparently not joking.

Zell is the first to give in to her intimidation. He approaches Seifer reluctantly and, even more reluctantly, holds out a still-gauntleted hand. Seifer looks at it and then at Zell. He makes no move to take it. Zell withdraws his hand, looking slightly relieved.

“Hmm,” Selphie says, disapprovingly. “I think they should travel on their own together until they learn to get along.”

Zell looks appalled.

“I think that seems like a terrible idea,” Rinoa says, looking on with a slight frown. “So what’s the history with you guys?”

“The history is Seifer’s an asshole,” Zell says, immediately.

“You think so?” Rinoa tilts her head. “I mean, I know he can be kind of an asshole sometimes, but...”

“Rinoa,” Seifer says, mock-wounded.

Squall is thinking. He and Selphie had the same dream: the one where they were other people. While they were dreaming, Squall heard two voices in his head: hers, and...

“Seifer,” he says. “When we were separated, did you have any strange dreams?”

Seifer raises his eyebrows. “That’s the first thing you say to me? I thought this was supposed to be a tearful reunion. Looks like Chicken-wuss here’s the only one about to start crying.”

“Looks like he was right about you, too,” Rinoa says, folding her arms, her tone no longer playful. “Can’t you stop teasing him for a second? You heard what Quistis said; you’re putting both of you in danger.”

Seifer frowns, opens his mouth to retort, but Rinoa cuts him off, her eyes widening suddenly. “Wait, did you say strange dreams?”

Squall nods.

“There was that time you passed out,” she says to Seifer. “Right?” She turns back to the group to explain. “We were running away from a Grendel and he just fell. I freaked out. Had to figure out Float really fast so I could drag him out of there.”

“I dreamt I was someone else,” Seifer mutters, looking angry and embarrassed. He won’t meet their eyes. “Some Galbadian soldier called Ward or something. But why the hell does it matter?”

“Oh!” Selphie exclaims. “Didn’t you think Sir Laguna was cute?”

Seifer frowns. “Uh, no,” he says, and then, “Wait, what?”

“Huh?” Rinoa asks.

Seifer gives her a sharp look. “You told her about it?”

“I’m seriously lost here,” Rinoa says. “Who’s Sir Laguna?”

“He was in my dream,” Seifer says. “How does she know that?”

“You could just ask me, y’know,” Selphie points out.

“Well, I didn’t say anything,” Rinoa says. “You never even told me what the guys were called.”

“Then how—”

“I think you may have had the same dream,” Quistis cuts in.

Seifer stares.

“Not just you and me,” Selphie says. “Squall as well. Isn’t that cool?”

Winhill is some distance inland. It’d actually have been faster to approach it from the western coast, but there’s no port over there; not surprising, as there’s nothing else on the Galbadian west coast but prisons and high-security military institutions, and Squall doesn’t think they really go in for sightseeing. There’s a small car rental at the port, though, so in theory they should be able to reach Winhill easily enough.

In theory.

Rinoa storms out of the rental shop. “He won’t give us a car!”

Next to Squall, Zell looks up, startled. “Huh?”

The door opens again behind her, considerably less violently.

“He saw my brand,” Selphie explains, coming out. Quistis, who was holding the door for her, follows.

“And he asked whether we were all l’Cie,” Rinoa says.

Seifer raises his eyebrows. “And you told him?”

“I told him the truth,” Quistis admits. “It didn’t occur to me that he might deny us service.”

“He says he doesn’t rent to l’Cie,” Rinoa says. “He says we could turn crystal or Cie’th and he won’t get the car back. Can you believe that?”

“So we can go in and rent one,” Zell says, putting a hand on Squall’s shoulder and gesturing at Seifer with the other. “He doesn’t know we’re l’Cie, right?”

Quistis glances back through the rental window. “Unfortunately, he’s watching us talk to you. I’m not sure that will work.”

“Right,” Seifer says, striding towards the door. “I’ll get us a car.”

“Uh,” Zell says, “what are you gonna...”

But Seifer’s already disappeared into the rental.

Rinoa exchanges a quick look with Quistis, then follows him in.

“Okay,” Rinoa says, emerging from the rental some time later. She seems to be trying very hard not to smile. “Now he says he’s not gonna give us a car even if we miraculously stop being l’Cie.”

Seifer stalks past her and keeps going, ignoring the rest of them, in the direction of Winhill.

The boat left fairly late in the day and it was already late evening by the time it pulled in, so they’re not going to reach Winhill before tomorrow. Squall, Selphie, Quistis and Zell are each carrying a lightweight sleeping bag, bundled up and strapped on as a backpack; Quistis pointed out before they left Timber that they’d probably be sleeping in the open at some point. Seifer and Rinoa, on the other hand...

“I didn’t realise we’d be joining you again,” Quistis says, apologetically.

Squall shrugs his sleeping bag from his shoulders. The days have been getting colder, but it’s still warm enough. “I don’t need this.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Instructor,” Seifer says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t need one either.”

“Well, I’m not gonna turn it down, if you’re sure,” Rinoa says. Squall tosses the sleeping bag in her direction; she catches it. “Thanks, Squall.”

It’s not the first time Squall’s spent the night on grass, but it still takes him a while to get to sleep. He can’t stop thinking.

Why did they all have the same dream? He’d thought maybe they’d been hit by a spell or something, but Seifer had it as well, and he wasn’t anywhere near Selphie or Squall. Maybe it is to do with their Focus; he can’t think of anything else they all have in common, beyond being former SeeD candidates. He’s not sure why only half of them would have seen it, though, if it was supposed to be a vision from the fal’Cie. And what could it be telling them to do: fight Funguars? Seduce pianists?

They’ll be at Winhill tomorrow. They can focus on that for now.

“Hey, Squall.”

A nudge in his side, and Squall’s rolled into a fighting crouch before he’s even registered what woke him.

“Seifer,” he says.

Seifer jerks his head towards the closest of the mountains. There’s a long swathe of scarred land at its base, Squall sees as he stands: bare, rocky earth, probably offering a stronger foothold than the grass around them, probably out of the others’ earshot. “Bring your weapon.”

Squall doesn’t have to ask why; he just picks up Revolver and follows.

It’s only now, fighting an opponent so familiar Squall can move without thinking, that he realises how much becoming l’Cie has changed them. There’s no GF behind their actions, but they both move faster, strike harder, endure more pain. He understands, now, how Seifer and Rinoa crossed those mountains so quickly; he understands how Seifer can be sparring instead of sleeping right now, so soon after that journey.

It feels good to be sparring again. It’s a distraction, if nothing else.

Squall is the one who eventually calls it off. They no longer know their limits, which means they have to be cautious. He feels like he could keep fighting until sunrise, but he can’t be certain that he wouldn’t be doing himself or Seifer permanent injury if he did.

Seifer laughs. “Whatever makes you feel better about losing.”

Squall doesn’t respond to that; he just sits down on a slab of rock and closes his eyes. Concentrating hard, he draws up the warmth of Cure from somewhere in his chest. Using magic as a l’Cie isn’t exactly the same as using paramagic, but it’s easier with the spells he cast often before the fal’Cie incident; it’s as if all his casts of drawn Cures have worn a channel that the real magic can flow along. He has no idea where he’d even begin if he wanted to cast Haste, or Triple, or any of the other useful spells he’s never drawn before.

But Rinoa cast Cure by accident, he remembers, just after she became a l’Cie. And she said she worked out how to cast Float in the mountains. He’s not sure whether she has any experience of paramagic.

Certain people have a natural aptitude for true magic, it’s theorised; some become Sorceresses, some become powerful l’Cie. Is that why the fal’Cie chose her? She was the first of them to be given a Focus, after all.

The green light flickering over his eyelids fades, and he opens them. Seifer is cleaning Hyperion. There’s a bruise already coming up over his cheekbone.

Squall touches the same spot on his own cheek, to indicate it. Seifer catches the movement and gives him a hard stare.

“You’re bruised,” Squall says.

“Yeah, well done, you got a hit in,” Seifer says. “You’re still worse off.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Squall says. “You should heal it. If it gets worse, it could impair your vision.”

“Pretty sure you couldn’t do any real damage if your gunblade was on fucking fire, but thanks for the concern. I’ll get something for it in Winhill if I have to.”

Squall frowns. “We’re l’Cie. We don’t have to worry about conserving magic resources any more. Just use Cure.”

Seifer walks away without answering, back towards the still-sleeping group.

It doesn’t occur to Squall until the next morning that he might not know how to cast it.

“So, uh,” Zell says, “are we sure we’re gonna find our Focus here?”

Winhill doesn’t seem like a big place, but how are they going to know their Focus, even if they see it? Are they just supposed to walk into the square from their vision and have a sudden epiphany? “It’s best not to get your hopes up.”

“Do you really have to be so gloomy?” Rinoa asks, with a laugh. “I think it’s fun to get your hopes up sometimes. We all saw Winhill in our vision, so I’m pretty sure we’re in the right place. If the fal’Cie wants us to do something, it’s gonna try and help us find out what it is, right?”

Something about Rinoa bothers him. It’s not the same as Selphie, who Squall has already given up any hope of comprehending; Rinoa seems rational enough. But she also seems cheerful most of the time, teasing everyone, smiling and laughing as if they’re only travelling together to see the world. Has she even realised that she’s dying?

“Yeah,” Zell says, “but... I don’t know, a town square? What are we meant to get from that?”

Rinoa shrugs. “Maybe we’ll know when we see it.”

“It doesn’t really matter if we don’t find our Focus, anyway,” Squall says. “The outcome will be more or less the same.”

For a moment, no one says anything.

“Uh,” Selphie says, “was that you... trying to be comforting?”

Selphie thinks he’s strange? That doesn’t feel great. “I don’t like it, but we’re l’Cie. There are only two ways this can end.”

“And you think they’re the same?” Rinoa asks, her tone incredulous. “If you turn into a Cie’th, you might kill people. Are you telling me you’d be okay with that?”

She... actually has a point. Of course, when Squall is a Cie’th, he won’t care, but from a wider perspective it would be better for them to complete their Focus.

But there’s an alternative.

“If any of you are still human when I turn into a Cie’th,” he says, “you should kill me.”

Rinoa sighs. “That really wasn’t the conclusion you were meant to come to.”

“I could kill you right now,” Seifer suggests. “Save us all some trouble later on.”

Squall meets Seifer’s eyes. If he’d really be willing, when the time comes... “I’m serious.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Seifer says after a moment, looking away. “You can get someone else to do your dirty work.”

“Well,” Quistis says, with a small smile, “I think you’ve just found a reason to complete your Focus, Squall. I don’t think any of us want to have to kill you, and I don’t think you’d enjoy killing us either.”

He’s been trying not to think about that possibility. If the others become Cie’th before him, maybe it’d be easiest just to let them take him down.

Rinoa nods firmly. “She’s right, y’know. And, hey, what if there’s a way to become uncrystallised? If we’re Cie’th, people will attack us. If we’re crystals, they might try to find a way to bring us back.”

If there were a way to come back, Squall thinks, someone would have found it by now. What he says is, “Do you know where this square is?”

Rinoa shoots him a look, but at least she stops talking about it. “Yeah, it’s just through here.”

She leads them into the square.

She’s right; it is the place from their vision. The same old-fashioned little houses; the same flower design on the cobblestones. It’s quiet and the air is cool and Ellone is suspended above a plinth in the centre, frozen in crystal.

Ellone.

Squall stops moving, staring at her.

Ellone.

She looks so young, now. He always thought of her as much older than him, but she can’t have been more than thirteen when the fal’Cie took her.

He’d forgotten. How could he have forgotten?

“Oh,” Quistis says, softly. “That’s why.”

The reason he attacked the fal’Cie, Squall thinks. The reason they’re all l’Cie now. It all comes back to this girl he couldn’t even remember.

It takes a conscious effort to start breathing again.

Chapter Text

Ellone.

More and more memories Squall didn’t know he had are coming back as he crosses the square towards her, his legs unsteady: Ellone laughing, smiling at him, comforting him, before Matron took them all on a trip to Timber and everything went wrong.

“We should’ve killed that fal’Cie,” Seifer mutters. “Forget our Focus; let’s go back and finish the job.”

Squall lays a hand on the plinth. He tries to pretend it’s not to keep his balance.

“She lived in Winhill, didn’t she?” Quistis asks. “Before she came to the orphanage.”

“We were all there,” Zell mutters. “Well, apart from Rinoa. That’s so weird. I can’t believe I forgot. There was another kid as well, right?”

“Irvy,” Selphie says.

Quistis nods. “Irvine. I wonder what happened to him?”

There’s an inscription on the slope of the plinth. Squall is expecting the usual clichés – the gods now grant you life eternal; though we are mortal, remember us – but when he leans in to read it he finds it’s something more personal and altogether stranger.

Guess you’re home again, huh? it says, and then I knew you’d be beautiful. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, and then, in very small letters, somewhat ruining the effect, Paid for by the Timber Maniacs Memorial Fund.

“Did we all forget?” Quistis is asking. “How did that happen?”

“You know,” Selphie says, “back in Trabia there were all these rumours goin’ round about GFs...”

Squall can’t concentrate on what’s being said behind him. It’s not just the shock of remembering; something... something strange is going on in his head. Is it...?

He looks up at Ellone, at her face, at her blank eyes. Her features are so familiar. It’s so hard to believe he had no memory of her until a moment ago.

“Can you... hear something?” Squall asks. ‘Hear’ isn’t the right word; it’s as if he’s catching flickers of visions and thoughts that aren’t his own. It seems impossible, but... “I think it’s coming from Ellone.”

Rinoa comes up beside him and tilts her head, listening. “Oh, hey, that’s weird. There’s definitely something.”

Are these Ellone’s thoughts? Is there still some aspect of her trapped inside that crystal statue? Squall has seen her crystal once before, although he’d forgotten until now; he doesn’t think he heard anything then, when he was a child. Can they hear her now because they’re l’Cie as well? Or because they’re l’Cie of the same fal’Cie?

“I think she’s dreaming,” Rinoa says.

And then there’s a high-pitched whine in Squall’s head and he stumbles away from Ellone’s plinth just before his vision cuts out.

Squall wakes lying on sun-warmed cobblestones and sits up abruptly, pulling his hand away from Rinoa’s. They’re still in the centre of Winhill; Ellone is still on her plinth, trapped forever in crystal. “It was another dream,” he says, getting to his feet. “Laguna. He was here, with Ellone. Selphie, Seifer, did you see it as well?”

“Aw, I missed Sir Laguna?” Selphie asks, shaking her head, and that’s when he realises that Zell and Quistis are just waking up.

“I saw it,” Quistis says. “Ellone was very young, wasn’t she? I think I was Kiros. That was... extremely strange.”

Zell sits up, rubbing his head. “Huh. I was... I was the other one, I think. Ward. But I wasn’t here. He was working in some prison somewhere. Pretty quiet guy.”

“Now that you mention it,” Quistis says, “I don’t think Ward was in my dream. I mean, I don’t know what he looks like, but there didn’t seem to be anyone by that name. Squall?”

Squall shakes his head.

“Come to think of it,” Quistis says, suddenly, “Kiros said something about Ward being a prison janitor.”

Actually, Squall remembers that as well. “D-District.”

“Okay, this is seriously weird,” Zell says. “So we’re having these linked-up dreams, but it’s not always the same ones of us? I mean, Seifer was this Ward guy last time, right?”

“Do you think it’s a vision of our Focus?” Rinoa asks, frowning.

“Unless our Focus is to clean a prison, I don’t see how my dream could’ve meant much,” Zell says. “How ’bout you guys?”

“Well,” Quistis says, glancing over at Squall as she speaks, “the dreams certainly seem to be targeted at us. I’m just not sure what they mean.”

“If the fal’Cie wants us to do something, why can’t it just tell us?” Seifer snarls.

“Seriously,” Zell says. “Does it think this is funny or something?”

Ellone was in that dream, Squall thinks. A younger Ellone, but he’s sure she was the Ellone he knew. Does their Focus have something to do with her? She was a l’Cie of the same fal’Cie, after all.

What was her Focus? Nobody ever told him.

He looks at Ellone one more time; she’s frozen with one hand half-raised in front of her, gazing into the distance with her empty eyes.

Squall turns away. There’s nothing but unwanted memories here.

There’s a newspaper lying open on a bench a few paces away, near the edge of the square. Squall walks over and flips it closed to check the front page, more for distraction than anything else.

SEERESS YEUL DIES FOLLOWING ‘OMINOUS’ PROPHECY, the headline reads.

“No way!” Zell exclaims, snatching up the paper. “Yeul died? I liked her!”

“Did you know her?” Rinoa asks, concerned and sympathetic.

Zell flushes. “Well, no, but... I always thought she was kinda cute.” He sits down with the paper, focuses on the article. “Man, and she was so young! This is really sad.”

There’s a moment’s silence as Zell reads.

“Hey,” he says, his tone changing, “I think you guys need to hear this.”

“What is it?” Rinoa asks.

“This prophecy thing,” Zell says. “There’s a lot of stuff about... Time Compression? I don’t know, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. She – Yeul, I mean – she was talking about someone in the future, way in the future, someone at the end of time trying to, like, push all of time together. Anyway, it’s not a good thing.”

“Time Compression?” Quistis leans down beside him to look at the article, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I see. So everything that’s ever happened would exist at the same point and just... repeat, forever. You can’t live in a world like that.”

“What’s your point?” Seifer asks.

Zell glares at him. “You haven’t heard what she actually said yet.”

“You haven’t told us, moron.”

Zell’s fists clench, hard. “Why the hell are you—”

“So what did she say, Zell?” Rinoa cuts in.

Zell looks a little startled, his hands relaxing. “Uh, yeah,” he says. “Sorry.” He looks back down at the newspaper. Squall is privately relieved; they have enough problems already without fighting each other.

“In the end, there will be four,” Zell reads aloud. “The Guardian, the Seeress, the Wanderer and the Sorceress. Two seek to save time, two to destroy it. The Sorceress lives apart and alone; her name is Ultimecia. In a world without a future, she will bring the past to her. In our age her efforts will make themselves felt. Our hope lies in six l’Cie.”

There is a moment’s silence.

“Six l’Cie,” Quistis says, quietly.

“It’s gotta be us, right?” Zell asks. “I mean, how often do six people get the same Focus?”

“You said it’s a prophecy about the end of time,” Squall points out. “A long time in the future, probably. There could easily be another six l’Cie chosen between now and then.”

“What do you guys remember about our dream?” Zell asks.

“When we got our Focus?” Selphie asks, thoughtfully. “Well, there was a clock, right?”

Zell nods. “Exactly! So our Focus’s gotta be something to do with time!”

“Maybe it’s our Focus to open a watch shop,” Seifer says, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever,” Zell says. “I think this is our best lead right now.”

Rinoa nods. “Six l’Cie,” she says. “And time. And she said the effects would start in our time, so it makes sense that the l’Cie would be chosen now. I think Zell’s right. Maybe this is it!”

Seifer frowns. “Guess it might be worth looking into,” he says, after a moment.

Zell and Rinoa high-five. They seem hopeful, but Squall isn’t sure why. If this really is their Focus, how are they supposed to complete it? The sorceress – ‘Ultimecia’, according to Yeul’s last words – lives far in the future. What does the fal’Cie expect them to do: kill her ancestors?

“It might not be our Focus,” Squall says.

Seifer shrugs. “We’re dead either way,” he says. “Might as well save all of time.”

Well, that’s one way of looking at it.

“They’re never gonna forget us if we pull this off,” Seifer says, half to himself.

If they fail, Squall thinks, there won’t be anyone left to remember. It’s almost a comforting thought.

Squall stays in the Winhill square for a while after that, sitting on the bench, his head down. He’s vaguely aware that the others are around, wandering off on their own or discussing their Focus, but he’s just thinking, trying to ignore the occasional indistinct whispers and images that seem to drift over from Ellone.

Is she really still in there? Is this the kind of existence they have to look forward to? That’s if they even complete their Focus; maybe they really are meant to stop this sorceress in the future, but how are they supposed to reach her?

There’s the sound of footsteps that don’t belong to any of the others, and Squall looks up sharply, but it’s just an old woman walking across the square. She lays something on Ellone’s plinth: a bouquet of white flowers.

Quistis has noticed the woman as well. “Did you know her?” she asks.

The woman looks up. “Oh, hello,” she says. “Don’t see many young faces around here these days. Yes, I knew Ellone when she was very young.” She looks over at Ellone and sighs. “I suppose she’s still very young now. Such a shame.”

“She was a friend of ours,” Quistis says.

“I’m sorry, dear. She was such a sweet girl.” She shakes her head. “And her poor parents, and then being stolen away like that... I just think she’d been through enough. Couldn’t the fal’Cie have found someone else?”

What?

Squall gets to his feet. “What do you mean, ‘stolen away’?”

The woman blinks. “Oh, did she not tell you? I suppose it must have been difficult to talk about. Yes, she was kidnapped, if you can believe it. Adel’s soldiers. They thought she had some sort of... power to see into the past, something like that. All nonsense, of course. That young man, Laguna, he—”

“Sir Laguna?” Selphie exclaims.

The woman frowns slightly. “I wasn’t aware he’d been knighted. But he did bring that girl back, for all his faults.”

When the woman leaves, Squall is even more confused than before. Laguna is a real person? What does it mean?

What it means in Selphie’s mind is evident enough. “Sir Laguna is real,” she says, clasping her hands in front of her with a sigh. “Maybe I’ll get to meet him!”

And then she runs off, to do whatever in Selphie’s mind is the logical next step. Maybe she thinks she’s going to find Laguna here, now.

“Don’t go too far,” Squall says, but he’s not sure whether she hears it. Seifer’s already gone off on his own somewhere. If they decide on where to go next, they’re going to end up wasting time herding people together.

“How is this possible?” Quistis asks. “I don’t think any of us knew about Laguna before, did we?”

“Maybe we forgot,” Squall says. “We couldn’t remember Ellone.”

“Hey,” Zell calls, standing next to Ellone’s crystal, “have you really listened to this?”

When he concentrates, Squall can pick things out in the vague whispers coming from Ellone. A few words, a few faces. At one point he catches a glimpse of himself as a child.

“Was that you?” Rinoa asks, laughing. “You were so cute!”

Squall ignores her.

And there’s Kiros, in the pictures from Ellone, walking across the square they’re in now. There’s another man next to him: long hair, gun at his hip. Squall doesn’t know exactly what Laguna looks like – he’s only seen through Laguna’s eyes, and the guy hasn’t been helpful enough to look in a mirror while Squall’s been in his head – but he’d be prepared to bet that that’s who it is.

“Were we... overhearing her dreams?” Quistis asks, frowning.

“But we were nowhere near her the first time, right?” Zell asks.

And why would Zell have been Ward at the prison when Squall was Laguna in Winhill? Was Ellone dreaming both of those things simultaneously? She couldn’t have been with Ward when he was at the prison, so was she just making that part up? How much of what they’ve seen is real? None of this makes any sense.

Unless what Adel’s soldiers thought was true. Unless she really could see into the past. Still can, it seems, even though she’s been turned to crystal. And somehow she can show that past to other people.

Did she make a conscious decision to show them? It doesn’t seem like she has any consciousness left; they haven’t seen or heard any clear thoughts from her. It’s probably not something she can control.

“Maybe she’s been transmitting this stuff the whole time,” Zell suggests. “Like, a long way. Like the radio interference. And we can pick up on it now because we’re l’Cie.”

“Or because you knew her,” Rinoa says. “I mean, I can see stuff when I’m near her like this, but I haven’t had the visions you guys have. I guess the l’Cie thing made a difference if you didn’t see them before, but I don’t think it’s just that.”

“Well, we’ve only had two visions,” Quistis says, “and Squall’s the only one who’s had both. We can’t be sure that they’re passing you by just yet.”

Squall tunes out the others and goes to sit on the bench. When he remembers that he can still hear Ellone from there, he goes to lean against the wall of one of the buildings instead. He doesn’t need this. It was easier when he couldn’t remember what he’d lost.

“It’s getting late,” Quistis says eventually, looking up at the sky. “We should probably look for a place to spend the night. Rinoa, do you know of anywhere?”

Rinoa nods, and that’s when Selphie comes skipping back into the square, dragging a murderous-looking Seifer behind her.

“I found Seifer!” she exclaims, gesturing grandly towards him. “And...” She produces a stack of magazines with a flourish. “I found Sir Laguna!”

Sir Laguna apparently looks a lot like several old issues of Timber Maniacs.

“I asked around,” Selphie says, “and Sir Laguna ended up becoming a travel writer!” She frowns slightly. “Some of the people here really don’t seem to like him. But I started asking people if they had any of his articles, and I got these!”

Squall is slightly disconcerted when the place Rinoa books them in for the night turns out to be somewhere he’s been as Laguna: a room above a bar adjoining the square. Not everything is exactly the same – not really surprising; it must have been fifteen or twenty years since the time in his vision, judging by Ellone’s age back then – but it’s unmistakably the same place. If they hadn’t already learnt that Laguna was real, walking in here would have told him that their experiences have been more than just dreams.

A woman called Raine lived here. If Laguna is a real person, perhaps Raine is, too, but there’s no sign of her now. Maybe she moved on. Squall can’t imagine spending two decades in a place like this: a tiny village with nothing to do, no distractions. He thinks too much as it is.

They settle down and try to sleep, an effort occasionally hampered by Selphie’s efforts to regale them with Laguna’s articles.

“Weird things can happen when you’re on the move,” Selphie reads aloud. “I’ve never had a GF, I’m not a l’Cie, and you can probably guess I’m not a sorceress either. But a couple of times—”

“Selphie,” Zell groans, “please stop talking.”

Selphie huffs and flips the magazine shut. “It was interesting!”

“Sleep’s interesting,” Zell mumbles.

And maybe it’s just having a clearly-defined goal at last, even if they’re yet to work out the method, but Squall actually manages to fall asleep fairly quickly.

Chapter Text

“Irvy,” Selphie says, firmly. “He’d be around our age.”

“This is a Garden,” Seifer says. “Everyone’s around our age.”

Squall isn’t sure this is really going to help. None of them can remember anything about Ellone’s Focus; why would Irvine? But Selphie absolutely insisted on visiting him, and it’s not as if they have any other leads.

There’s something hovering over the six of them, unspoken: if their Focus is to stop this sorceress from the future, they have no idea how the hell they’re supposed to complete it. Time travel wasn’t exactly on the Garden’s curriculum. So maybe it’s best to look down other routes first, hope their Focus is actually something different. It makes sense to start with Ellone. After all, the prophecy wasn’t the only thing they found in Winhill.

Selphie is sure Irvine was taken in by Galbadia Garden. Squall doesn’t remember anything about that, but he wasn’t really paying much attention to his surroundings after Ellone was taken.

“He might go by Irvine,” Quistis says.

“Oh, you mean Kinneas?” the receptionist asks, picking up the phone. “I think he’s in his room. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

They wait in silence as the receptionist dials.

“Hello? Kinneas? I have a young lady here who’s very determined to see you.” He pauses, then rolls his eyes. “Yes, well, she’s with her friends, so I think that’s unlikely. And also, I should remind you, against regulations.” Another pause. “Selphie, I believe.”

Irvine’s “Whoa, what?” is so loud that Squall hears it through the phone.

Irvine opens his door and grins at them. “It really is you! Didn’t know if I’d ever see you guys again.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Quistis says. “Did we catch you on your way out?”

Irvine, who for some reason is wearing a long coat and cowboy hat, seems surprised by the question. He shakes his head. “Come on in. Sorry about the mess. When you’re out being a lone gunman, you don’t have all that much time to keep your room in order.”

Quistis quickly covers her smile with her hand. “I suppose not. Thank you.”

The room isn’t that bad. It’s mostly just magazines scattered over the floor: back issues of Weapons Monthly, and a couple of magazines that Irvine kicks under the bed with a cough. There are guns mounted on the far wall, next to an old poster of a dark-haired woman leaning against a piano. Squall is bewildered to recognise her from his dream (or vision, or whatever it was that Ellone was transmitting to them) as Julia, the pianist Laguna was embarrassingly interested in.

Rinoa is biting her lip, but Squall can’t tell whether she’s looking at the guns or the poster.

“The gang’s all here,” Irvine says. “Gotta say, you all grew up pretty well.” He takes Rinoa’s hand. “And who’s this beautiful creature?”

Rinoa laughs so hard she almost doubles over, and something in Irvine’s manner cracks; he suddenly looks very embarrassed.

“Anyway,” he says, leaning back against the wall, “any reason you’ve come to pay me a visit? Forgot to send me an invitation to the reunion?”

Squall looks to Quistis. She closes her eyes for a moment, then takes a breath.

Irvine tenses up. “Whoa. Whoa. Sefie?”

Seifer looks startled and furious for an instant, before he apparently remembers what’s just come back to Squall: that was what Irvine always called Selphie, back in the orphanage.

Squall looks around. Selphie’s been poking around Irvine’s room, examining everything, but now she’s looking at Irvine with her head tilted.

“Turn back around,” Irvine says, twisting his hand in a circle. “What’s that thing on your leg?”

Seifer rolls his eyes. “Selphie, are you ever going to start covering that up?”

Selphie grins. “Hey, you’re actually talking to me! We should definitely talk more.”

“Sefie,” Irvine says.

Selphie turns around.

Irvine lets out a shaking breath. “You’re a l’Cie?”

“I can’t believe this,” Irvine says. “All of you? What, was that orphanage cursed?”

Zell shrugs. “Looks like you’re doing okay.”

“Yeah, for now,” Irvine says. “Guess I’ll be staying away from fal’Cie for the rest of my life.” He takes his hat off, scratches the back of his head. “Not that that helps you. Man. I’m sorry.”

“Do you remember Ellone’s Focus?” Squall asks. Irvine seems to remember the orphanage far more clearly than the rest of them, after all. “Or how she completed it?”

Irvine puts his hat back on and looks up at the ceiling, frowning. “Ellone? Oh, wait, Sis?”

“We were turned by the same fal’Cie,” Quistis explains. “We have an idea of what our Focus might be, but if we knew the fal’Cie’s goals it might help us.”

Irvine shakes his head. “Sorry. I can’t remember. I don’t think we had a chance to find out, did we?”

“What do you mean?” Squall asks.

“Well, I don’t remember Sis actually being a l’Cie. She ended up crystal pretty much straight away, didn’t she? Whatever her Focus was, she must’ve done it right there with the fal’Cie.”

Something about what he’s saying feels familiar. He’s right; Squall doesn’t think he ever saw Ellone when she was a l’Cie. She was just Sis, and then they visited Timber, and then Matron took them all aside and gently explained that Sis wasn’t going to be around any more.

“You said you have an idea about your Focus, right?” Irvine asks. “Mind enlightening me? Maybe I can help.”

Squall privately doubts this, but he gives Irvine a short run-down of what they learnt about in Winhill: the strange prophecy, the sorceress from the future, the ‘Time Compression’ thing they think they’re supposed to prevent.

“Travelling to the future, huh?” Irvine asks, scratching his jaw. “I’m gonna say upfront I’m not an expert.”

“And we were so sure you’d know,” Quistis says, with a smile.

“Have you tried Esthar?”

Seifer snorts. “How are we supposed to ‘try Esthar’? Do they give you history lessons here?”

“Yeah, I know, they’ve been shut away from the world for seventeen years,” Irvine says. “Tell them you’re trying to save the universe, though, and maybe they’ll let you in.”

“It might be our best chance,” Quistis says, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know how likely it is that anyone there will know of a way to travel into the future, but Esthar was already the most technologically-advanced city on the planet when it closed its borders. It’s had almost two decades to develop its technology since then.”

“Makes sense,” Squall says. He nods to Irvine. “Thanks.”

“Hey,” Irvine says. “If you guys are all l’Cie, does that... I mean, I might not see you again, right?”

“It’s likely,” Squall says.

Irvine nods. “Okay. Man, this is kind of screwed up.” He’s quiet for a moment, then tips his hat to them. “Well, take care of yourselves.” He winks. “Especially you, Sefie. I know I shouldn’t play favourites, but...”

Selphie giggles. “I will!”

“And finish your Focus,” Irvine says. “Anything I can do, you know where to find me.”

Rinoa freezes when they’re on their way out of the Garden gates.

“Hey,” she says. “Did you guys see that?”

“See what?” Quistis asks.

Rinoa frowns, then shakes her head. “I’m not sure. It was less than a second. It just...”

She’s silent for a moment.

“The Garden was gone,” she blurts out. “There was just a crater.”

Squall looks up at the crimson bulk of Galbadia Garden. It is definitely still there.

Zell shifts his shoulders, frowning at Rinoa. “Hey, uh, you need some sleep?”

She laughs. “I guess that might help.”

“Deling City isn’t far,” Squall says. “We can find a hotel for the night.”

Quistis nods. “If we’re going to Deling City, shall we pay a visit to the library? I’d like to find out more about Time Compression, if they have any information on it.”

Squall has no particularly strong feelings on where they stay in Deling, with one exception: he would very much prefer not to stay in the hotel he visited as Laguna, the place where Julia the pianist played.

Unfortunately, Selphie is extremely interested in staying at Julia’s hotel, and Squall doesn’t have the patience to fight her.

Squall doesn’t like being the one to deal with hotel staff, but he checks them in himself on this occasion so he can decide which rooms they take. They’re offered two three-bed rooms or three twins, and he goes for the first option because it means there’s no chance that he’ll end up in Julia’s bedroom, reliving Laguna’s horrible flirtation in his mind. Rinoa goes straight up to the girls’ room to rest for a while, but it’s still only mid-afternoon, so the rest of them set out to find the library.

The Deling City library is a half-collapsed wreck that looks like it has been abandoned for centuries.

And then Squall blinks, and it’s a perfectly ordinary library. The door is open; the lights are on; the Adel-era porch pillars are intact. There’s no rubble blocking their way in. There’s no ivy growing over the front.

“Tell me you guys saw that,” Zell says, quietly. “Otherwise I’m gonna have to go back and get some sleep myself.”

Quistis nods. “I’m glad I wasn’t the first one to ask.”

“I saw it,” Squall says.

“Me too!” Selphie says. “The place was all messed up, right? That was kind of cool.”

Zell shakes his head. “I don’t know if that’s actually a relief. Is this like those Ward dreams?”

“Sir Laguna dreams,” Selphie says, firmly.

“I don’t think it’s just us,” Seifer says.

Squall looks around. The streets of Deling City are famously busy, and everyone has somewhere to be, but a lot of people have stopped. A lot of people are staring at the library. A lot of people are talking frantically to their confused-looking companions.

“In our age her efforts will make themselves felt,” Quistis says, softly.

“Time Compression can’t be happening yet!” Zell exclaims. “I’m not ready for this!”

“But this is a good thing, right?” Selphie asks.

“Uh,” Zell says.

“I mean, if Esthar’s seeing this stuff it’s gotta be freaking them out, right? Maybe they’ll let us in!”

“Look,” Quistis says, “let’s just see what we can find out for now.”

Squall gets back to the hotel on his own, some time after everyone else. He’s planning to head straight up to the room, but something makes him stop in the foyer. There’s faint, familiar piano music coming from downstairs, and for a moment, although he knows it’s ridiculous, he has to look down at himself and make sure he’s in his own body.

He walks down the stairs, trying not to be too loud. It’s Rinoa at the grand piano, performing to an empty room. Her playing is a little awkward, not nearly as smooth as Julia’s in his dream, but it’s unmistakably the same song.

She must have heard him, because she stops very suddenly and twists around on the piano stool. She catches his eye and laughs, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “Sorry. I’ve never been that good.”

“What was that song?” he asks.

She shrugs. “It’s just something my mom used to sing to me. Did you find anything about Time Compression?”

He shakes his head, pulling up a chair to sit by the stage. “Theories. Nothing solid.” Unsurprisingly, nobody has had many opportunities to observe the actual effects of Time Compression. “Some books say that Time Compression might begin with ‘flickering’, though. Events or perception being scattered across time for brief moments. When you said that you saw the Garden disappear, it’s possible that you were seeing the past or future of the site. We saw something similar at the library.”

“Whoa,” she says. “So it might be starting?”

“It might be starting.” And they still don’t know how to combat it.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. Rinoa absently plays a little on the piano: the same three keys, over and over again. It’s annoying. Squall doesn’t comment.

“I wonder why she wants to compress time,” she says, eventually. “It must be scary, living at the end of everything. Maybe she’s trying to... I don’t know, save herself somehow? Or preserve the world?” She rests a hand on her left armwarmer, the one covering her brand. “I guess I can understand wanting to stop time moving forward.”

Squall shakes his head. “We have no way of knowing.”

“Maybe, but aren’t you curious? I mean, it’s not the kind of thing you just decide to do for no reason.”

“Her reasons don’t matter,” Squall says. “Everyone has reasons. If you have to fight someone, sympathising with them will only hurt your focus.”

“I guess,” Rinoa says, pulling her legs up onto the piano stool. She wraps her arms around her knees. “But doubt’s a good thing sometimes, right? You need to make sure you’re on the right side.”

It seems a strange thing to say to someone formerly involved with a mercenary organisation. “I don’t think there is a right side, most of the time.”

Rinoa shrugs. “If you think that, maybe you shouldn’t fight at all.”

“Real-life conflicts don’t divide neatly into good and evil.”

“I’m not saying that,” Rinoa says. “I know it’s complicated. But I still think you have to believe in what you’re fighting for.”

“We were all at Garden,” Squall says. “We were trained to fight for money, not causes.”

“What about when you attacked the fal’Cie?”

Squall hesitates.

“You were fighting for Ellone, weren’t you?” she asks.

He looks away. “It was stupid.”

She laughs. “It was definitely stupid. I’m not gonna deny that. But your reasons weren’t.”

Squall isn’t sure about that. Attacking the fal’Cie couldn’t have helped Ellone. At least fighting for money would have achieved something.

Still, fighting this sorceress for the sake of time, the world, the others... he supposes he can believe in that.

Two weeks later, sitting in the bed of a vast dried-out lake, he knows that what he believes in doesn’t matter. What use is being prepared to fight the sorceress if they can’t reach her? She’s in the future. They’re here. What, did the fal’Cie choose them as a joke?

The flickers have been getting more frequent. Patches of red sky amongst the blue, vanishing glimpses of faceless figures in old-fashioned clothes. More than once, the disused railway bridge to Esthar seemed to disappear beneath their feet as they crossed it.

Other people are seeing them too. The newspapers are full of ‘could this really be Time Compression?’ and speculation on whether the six fated heroes actually exist.

They exist, maybe, but what can they do against power like this? What can they do to fight someone who hasn’t even been born? Esthar was their only hope; they knew it hadn’t let anyone in for seventeen years, so it was always unlikely that they would find help here, but they’d all grown up hearing that it was the most technologically-advanced place on the planet. If anywhere knew how to reach the future...

But they travelled all the way across the bridge to find a barren continent. There’s nothing where the city should be. Esthar doesn’t exist.

So what are they going to do now? Are they just going to keep asking around and looking at books, as if something in the world can actually help them with this?

It’s hopeless. They’re all going to become mindless monsters, and it’s all his fault for dragging them into a fight they could never have won.

His hip itches. When he pulls his shirt up by the hem, a red eye glares out at him from his brand.

His breath mists in the air.

When did it get so cold?

Shiva shoots up from the ground before him in a pillar of ice, like the crystal they’re never going to be trapped in, and the moment of surprise Squall feels quickly passes. He’s heard of this: Guardian Forces coming to l’Cie who have fallen into despair, to ‘put them out of their misery’, as the material he’s read euphemistically put it. He was always closest to Shiva at Garden; he supposes that’s why she’s come for him now. If he defeats her, she’ll junction with him again, their bond stronger than before. If not...

The ice shatters, and for a moment Squall considers just sitting there and letting her end it. What will defeating her achieve? Their Focus is in the far future; they’ll never reach it. At most it’ll buy him a few more days of regret before they all become Cie’th. Assuming all of time and existence doesn’t collapse before then.

Shiva raises her arms. Squall closes his eyes.

She came in a pillar of ice, he finds himself thinking. Like crystal.

Like crystal.

Ellone.

Squall opens his eyes, grabs his gunblade and leaps to his feet.

Chapter Text

The others are sitting in a rough circle just by the Esthar end of the bridge, Quistis checking their food supplies, preparing for the long journey back to civilisation. Zell looks up as Squall approaches.

“Hey, Squall,” he says. “Where’d you go?”

His voice sounds so clear. Everything feels brighter and sharper and colder with Shiva in his mind again. Squall feels more alert than he has in a long time. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed her. And now, finally, he has a clear direction.

“We’re going to steal Ellone,” he says.

Weird things can happen when you’re on the move, Laguna’s article says. I’ve never had a GF, I’m not a l’Cie, and you can probably guess I’m not a sorceress either. But a couple of times I’ve just been able to use magic. I swear this is true. It was like something else was working through me. I’ve never been able to explain it.

It’s what he was expecting. He was half-asleep when Selphie tried to read it to them, couldn’t really think it through, but what else was it going to say? No GF, not a l’Cie, not a sorceress, but... he could use magic. Of course.

And Squall knows why, because he was there.

Ellone wasn’t kidnapped because she could see the past. She was kidnapped because she could send people there. It’s the reason the real Laguna suddenly found himself able to use magic; Squall’s body may not have followed him into the past, but somehow his l’Cie powers did.

He should have realised it earlier. When they first got their Focus, they all saw Winhill in their shared vision. Why? Because they found a newspaper about Ultimecia there? They could have seen that newspaper anywhere.

The Winhill square is cracked and abandoned and overgrown when they walk into it, but only for a second.

They check Ellone’s crystal and the plinth thoroughly, but there doesn’t seem to be any kind of security on it. Hard to imagine anyone trying to steal a crystallised l’Cie in this tiny village. And it’s not as if there’d be any way to make a quick getaway; you’d have to either drag a human-sized crystal over a mountain range or try to smuggle it onto a passenger ship.

But they won’t need to take her that far. And if they get caught, what’s the worst that can happen to them? They’re already dead.

“Rinoa, cast Float,” Squall says. “Seifer, I’ll need you to help me carry her if Float doesn’t work. Everyone else, keep lookout.”

This is almost definitely not going to work. They don’t know whether they’ll be able to communicate with Ellone in any real way. They don’t know whether she can send people forward in time as well as back. But it’s the only chance they have.

They can’t exactly take Ellone on the ferry and hope no one notices, and Squall can’t really see them carrying her over the mountains either, so they’re stuck in the south of Galbadia for the moment. They set up camp in the most shielded spot they can find, a clearing hemmed in by forest to the east and south and mountains to the north. Squall isn’t sure whether the town will send anyone out to search, but it makes sense to be cautious.

They have as much non-perishable food as they could carry while still transporting Ellone. It’s going to have to be enough. Winhill seems like the kind of place where everyone knows everyone else, and it won’t be hard to pin Ellone’s disappearance on the strangers who bought up half the main shop’s stock and vanished the day she did. They can’t go back.

It’s strange to look at a pile of food and wonder if it’ll last them the rest of their lives.

It’s almost nightfall by the time they finish setting up, and the temperature is starting to drop. Seifer makes the fire; Fire spells seem to be his speciality, now that he’s a l’Cie.

“So now what?” Zell asks, looking Ellone over. She’s still suspended upright, somehow. “We just... talk to her? Try to get through?”

Squall shrugs. “It might not work, but it’s the only option we have.”

“Hey,” Zell says. He taps Ellone on the arm, cautiously, as if he’s afraid she’ll shatter under his hand. “Hey, Ellone? It’s Zell. You hear me?”

The noise from Ellone is the same as it’s always been: flickering, unclear images of the past. Dreams, maybe. How do you wake up a crystal?

Selphie waves her hands in front of Ellone’s face. Astonishingly, it doesn’t seem to have any effect.

Squall looks away.

“Hey,” Rinoa says. “Squall. This’ll work. There’s definitely something there.”

He frowns at her. “You don’t have to try to cheer me up.”

She shrugs. “Well, maybe I want to.” She raises her voice. “Hey, Ellone! Your friends are here! Come and talk to us!”

Even though this was his idea, Squall can’t join in with the others. Looking at Ellone’s frozen face just makes him think of how hopeless this is. And, after all these years, he really doesn’t know what to say to her.

He hefts his gunblade onto his shoulder and sets off to patrol for monsters.

It’s dark by the time he gets back. Zell, Rinoa and Selphie are next to the fire, playing the noisiest three-way game of Triple Triad he’s ever heard. Quistis is sitting by Ellone, and she raises a hand when she sees him.

“Where’s Seifer?” Squall asks.

“He didn’t say where he was going,” Quistis says. “Much like someone else I could mention.”

Squall looks at Ellone. He doesn’t have to ask whether they’ve managed to establish contact.

Quistis follows his gaze. “You should talk to her, you know,” she says. “You were always her favourite. If anyone can break through to her, I know it’ll be you.”

“She didn’t have favourites,” Squall says.

“You didn’t notice?” Quistis asks, and then she laughs. “Oh, of course you didn’t. Ellone adored you.” She stands and stretches. “I’ll leave you alone for a while. Really, I think you should talk to her.”

He sits by Ellone for a long time, not speaking. He can’t try talking to her with the others around; he’d feel ridiculous. Besides, what is he supposed to say?

Seifer eventually returns, Floating a couple of Fastitocalon-F ahead of him.

“You went all the way to the beach?” Quistis asks.

Seifer shrugs. “Felt like some fresh food for once. And apparently this stupid place doesn’t have anything else worth eating.”

He’s not wrong. Squall mostly saw Blood Souls and Cockatrices on his patrol, and eating either of those is a famously bad idea.

Seifer’s actually the best cook in the group – maybe it comes of being so good with the Fire element – but Quistis offers to prepare the fish so he can rest, and, although he insists he’s fine, he lets her take over. The others eat close to the fire; Squall stays a little further back in the circle of firelight, next to Ellone, although Quistis brings some fish over to him.

Gradually the others fall asleep, one by one, and eventually it’s just Squall left, watching the flicker of the fire reflected in Ellone’s crystal, listening to her memories.

“Ellone,” he says, very quietly, and then he can’t say anything else; his throat feels too tight.

This is stupid. They can talk as much as they like, but she won’t be able to hear them. Dreaming or not, she’s an inanimate object; he might as well be talking to a wall.

If he’s not going to make an effort with Ellone, he thinks, he should at least try to get some sleep. He won’t achieve anything like this. He can wake Selphie up instead; it’s supposed to be her turn to keep watch.

He stays where he is, sitting in silence, surrounded by her past.

“Need some company?”

The voice brings Squall out of a semi-trance, and he realises he’s been staring at Ellone. He looks up. Rinoa. “I’m okay. You should be sleeping.”

She laughs. “Okay, I’ll admit that offer wasn’t completely selfless. I kind of need some company. Nobody else is awake.”

Squall hesitates.

“You can sit here if you want,” he says, “but I’m not very good company. You shouldn’t expect much.”

“I just expect you to be Squall,” she says, sitting down. “I’ll be happy if you manage that. You’re off to a great start, by the way.”

There’s a pause.

“You’re looking at Seifer,” she says.

Is he looking at Seifer? He hadn’t noticed.

“Are you wondering whether he’s gonna storm off again?” she asks, stretching out her legs. “Because we had a whole adventure in the mountains for me to make it very clear that I don’t need his permission to talk to people.” She shrugs. “Honestly, I think he was just looking for an excuse to go off on his own.”

“You don’t think he’ll take another excuse now?”

“It wasn’t that hard to drag him back to you guys. I think he’d rather be around you than off doing his ‘lone hero’ thing. Even if he won’t admit it. Sound like anyone else we know?”

He doesn’t answer. For a while she’s quiet as well, looking at Ellone.

“You’ve all known each other for a long time, huh?” she asks, eventually.

“We forgot,” Squall says.

“Maybe, but still. You’ve got all your old friends around to support you. A lot of people would say you’re lucky. You know, for a l’Cie.”

Whatever that means.

“But you won’t let them support you,” she says.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I know you’re quiet. Nothing wrong with that. But I don’t think this is the kind of thing you can just get through on your own.”

Squall looks over at the others. At Selphie, Zell, Quistis, curled up close to each other; Seifer, lying on his own, his back to the rest of them. Sometimes he doesn’t know how any of them can sleep, knowing what the future holds.

“Everyone here has enough problems,” he says, eventually. “I’m not going to ask them to worry about mine as well. And talking won’t change anything. We’re l’Cie.”

“That’s not what I mean by ‘support’,” Rinoa says. “Okay, we can’t magically make everything fine, but you might feel better if you talked.”

“I’d rather just not have to think about it.”

Rinoa grins suddenly. “I didn’t say what you had to talk about. It doesn’t have to be the l’Cie thing. Argue about music or play Triple Triad or something. I know you like these people, so just... enjoy being around them. We don’t have to have a big therapy session if you don’t want to, but I think you could definitely use some fun.”

“How long do you think we have?” Squall asks. “A week? A month? I can’t make friends when I know I’m just going to lose them all.”

“You’re already friends,” Rinoa says. “Can you seriously tell me it’s not going to hurt you? Losing Quistis, Seifer, everyone?”

Squall looks away.

“You can’t just push everyone away and pretend that means you don’t care,” Rinoa says.

“It won’t matter soon enough.”

“It matters now. Didn’t you let yourself make friends before we got branded? Or did you just go ‘well, they’re gonna die eventually, so what’s the point, right?’”

He doesn’t answer.

“Wow,” Rinoa says. “Oh, wow. That was supposed to be a joke.” She’s silent for a moment. “Look, okay, maybe we can’t stop being l’Cie, but we can make the most of the time we’ve got left, right? We’re not finished yet. Just... stop thinking like we’re all Cie’th already, or I’m gonna have to get offended.”

She says it like it should be easy. How is he supposed to forget what’s going to happen to them?

Rinoa taps him on the shoulder. “Hey. Look at me.”

He does.

“You know, even with this whole thing hanging over us, I’ve had fun,” she says. “Going on this big quest thing, getting to know you guys. Well, I knew Seifer already, obviously, but getting to know the rest of you. I’m not saying I wouldn’t go back and not get turned into a l’Cie if I had the chance, but it’d be a shame if I never met you and Quistis and Selphie and Zell. And I’ll be sad when it’s over, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m having fun now. I...” She sits back, frowning. “I don’t know if this’ll make sense, but I’d be sadder if I didn’t have anything to be sad about. I want to be losing friends when we turn to crystal, not just people I didn’t care about.”

“I can’t do that,” he says.

“Well, bad news,” she says, with a half-smile. “We are your friends. So I think you’re gonna have to.”

“How’s... this?”

There’s a loud thud.

“Yeah, you got it! Wanna try kicks next?”

“Soon! I’m gonna keep practising this.”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Squall opens his eyes. It’s daylight. He looks at Ellone, to make sure she’s still there, before checking on the source of the noise.

Selphie is beating up a tree, although Squall finds it hard to imagine it did anything to her. Zell is standing nearby, applauding enthusiastically, the sound muffled by his gauntlets.

“What... are you doing?” Squall asks.

Zell waves at him. “Yo! I’m teaching Selphie hand-to-hand. You want a lesson?”

Squall considers.

It’s a pointless exercise, really. He doesn’t know exactly how much time they have left, but he knows it isn’t enough to learn a new combat style. There’s no way he’ll become good enough at hand-to-hand for it to be any use to him.

But it’s something to do.

“You’re doin’ well!” Zell enthuses. “Hey, maybe you could teach me some gunblade techniques in exchange, right?”

“You don’t have a gunblade.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have proper gauntlets.”

“I have hands,” Squall points out.

Zell shrugs. “Guess I’ll just have to borrow yours, then.”

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon.”

Squall takes a few paces towards the tree he left Revolver leaning against, just in case. “No.”

“Fine.” Zell breaks into a bout of shadow-boxing. Squall considers trying to mimic his strikes, but even the thought makes him feel selfconscious, so he just watches, trying to recognise the things Zell has taught him.

After a moment, Zell lets his hands fall to his sides. “Hey, d’you think Seifer would let me borrow his gunblade?”

Squall looks at him.

Zell sighs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He goes quiet, then looks over at Ellone. “You think she can hear us?”

Squall breathes in slowly, tries to focus on the confused images radiating from Ellone. He thinks there might be more Zell in them than usual. A coincidence? “I don’t know.”

“Okay!” Zell flexes his fingers. “Let’s have a practice match. I’ll go easy on you.”

Squall is still looking at Ellone. It felt good to be distracted for a while, but he’s hit reality again. They’re still l’Cie. They still have a Focus they can’t reach. Ellone’s still walled off from them, and even if they establish communication they don’t know if she’ll really be able to help.

“No, thanks,” he says.

“Oh,” Zell says. “Well, let me know if you ever want another lesson! The Dincht School of Combat is always open.”

Squall wakes suddenly, tense. It’s still night, he judges without opening his eyes; there’s light, but it’s the flicker of firelight, not daylight. It’s probably nothing dangerous – he’s always been a light sleeper, and there’ll be someone on lookout to alert them if anything seems wrong – but something’s woken him, and he isn’t going to be able to get back to sleep until he’s pinpointed what it is.

It takes him a moment to realise that someone is singing, very softly. It’s a tune Squall recognises quickly – the one Julia played on the piano, the one Rinoa played in the same room – but somehow the words feel familiar as well.

“My last night here for you,
Same old songs, just once more...”

He listens for a moment, his eyes still closed. It sounds like Quistis’s voice. She must have taken over the watch.

There’s a rustling sound, footsteps, and Quistis cuts herself off on the verge of the chorus. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet.”

“Don’t apologise.” Rinoa’s voice. “I love this song.”

“Ellone used to sing it,” Quistis says. “I thought it might help her remember.” She laughs a little. “I’m not really much of a singer, though.”

“You were good! Keep going.”

“With you listening? I don’t think I’d survive the embarrassment.”

“Then we’ll sing it together,” Rinoa says. “C’mon.”

She starts – “Whenever sang my songs...” – and, after a moment’s hesitation, Quistis joins in.

Squall is beginning to doze off, listening to the two of them, when suddenly his mind is filled with images – Laguna singing that song, the way the old orphanage echoed, Quistis trying to dress as an adult when she was maybe four – and he’s wide awake. It’s some sort of flare from Ellone. He feels for a moment like he’s about to pass out, like he did just before the Laguna dreams, but the weakness passes.

When he sits up and looks around, he sees that Zell and Selphie and Seifer have woken up as well.

“What the hell?” Zell mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

Hello?

It’s not really a voice. There’s no sound. But it’s there, somehow, in Squall’s mind.

“Can you hear that?” he asks.

Hello? Where am I? Can anyone hear me?

It sounds frightened. It sounds like Ellone.

Chapter Text

Where am I? I can’t see. No, wait! I remember. I’m crystal. Aren’t I?

I thought I heard something. Was someone singing?

“Ellone?” Quistis asks.

Yes, it’s me. Who are you? What’s happening?

Zell looks over at Squall. “Uh, so where do we start?” he asks, in a whisper so loud Squall isn’t sure why he bothered whispering at all.

Squall gets to his feet. None of this feels real. Ellone is conscious? He’s going to speak to her again, after however long it’s been?

They have a goal. He tries to focus on that.

“My name is Squall,” he says. “I don’t know if you’ll remember this, but you used to live in an orphanage with us.”

As he says it, he realises that she probably hasn’t forgotten, even if the rest of them did. She was still at the orphanage when she turned into crystal, after all. Their time together was the last thing she knew before her life ended.

Squall? There’s another flare from Ellone; somehow, Squall feels her surprise and joy. Because he’s here? It’s... strange to think that he could bring that sort of happiness to anyone. But it’s been a long time, and he isn’t the boy she remembers. And... you said ‘us’, didn’t you? Is it really you? Who else is with you?

“It’s really us,” Quistis says, smiling. “I’m Quistis.”

Quisty? Wow, you sound so grown-up. I guess it must have been a long time.

Selphie grins. “She ended up being a teacher and everything!”

I knew you’d be a teacher! Ellone exclaims. Is that... Selphie? Is everyone else here as well? Zell? Seifer? Irvy?

Zell waves enthusiastically at her, although there’s no point. “Yo!”

There’s a moment’s silence, and then Selphie looks over at Seifer, tilting her head. “Are you not gonna say anything? ’Cause I can introduce you, if you want.”

“Shut the hell up,” Seifer says. He pauses for a moment longer, not looking at any of them. “Sis. It’s good to hear your voice again.”

Rinoa nudges him. “Why can’t you say something that nice to everyone else once in a while?”

Seifer glares.

Zell, Ellone thinks. And Seifer. Being nice?

“Okay, everyone needs to stop talking,” Seifer says.

And... who are you? I’m – I’m sorry, I don’t remember... I mean, I know everyone else, but you don’t really sound like Matron, and I don’t think you’re Irvy either.

“It’s okay,” Rinoa says, laughing. “I wasn’t at this orphanage place. My name’s Rinoa. It’s nice to meet you!”

Rinoa, Ellone thinks. So, um, how long has it been?

“It must have been over a decade,” Quistis says. “I’m sorry. We’d have spoken to you earlier if we’d known you were conscious. I’m afraid we’re here now to ask for your help.”

Selphie nods. “We need your time powers. You’ve got time powers, right? ’Cause this whole thing kind of falls apart if you don’t.”

I... I do, Ellone thinks. But how did you find out about those? They... caused a lot of problems for me once, so they weren’t really something I told people about.

Selphie beams. “Well, I had this great dream! I was—”

“It’s a long story,” Seifer cuts in.

Oh, Ellone thinks, and then, Oh! I wasn’t just dreaming, was I? I sent you back! I’m so sorry!

“Don’t worry about it,” Zell says. “Anyway, uh, we were hopin’ you could help us with our Focus.”

Focus? Ellone thinks, and then, Wait, are you l’Cie?

“Oh,” Zell says, with an awkward laugh, “right. Guess that part was kinda important.”

I can’t believe this! All of you? How did that happen?

“It’s not important,” Quistis says. Squall is silently relieved; he doesn’t want Ellone to know. “It was your fal’Cie, though. I suppose we didn’t really learn from your example.”

All five of you? Ellone is thinking. No, wait, there are six of you, right? Sorry, Rinoa. Or seven? Irvy isn’t there, is he?

“He was lucky enough not to get involved with us,” Quistis says, smiling.

Six of you, Ellone thinks, slowly. Wait, what does Rinoa look like? She’s got long black hair, right? She’s really pretty?

“How’d you know?” Zell asks, and then he turns a strange colour and takes a few steps away to spar with the air. Rinoa bursts out laughing.

I think this is my Focus, Ellone murmurs in her mind. Helping you guys. I think this is what the fal’Cie wanted me to do.

“You completed your Focus,” Squall says. “You’re a crystal.”

Ellone hesitates. I don’t think I did. I think the fal’Cie turned me this way so I’d be able to help you. Being like this... I think it makes me stronger. I could only send people a couple of months back before.

Being a crystal is part of her Focus? Maybe it’s true; they don’t remember her being a l’Cie, after all. She became a crystal right there with the fal’Cie.

It explains why she can think and communicate, even in crystal form. It probably won’t be the same for them.

So what do you want me to do? she asks.

“We think we need to stop a sorceress,” Quistis says. “She’s trying to compress time.”

She’s trying to... what?

“Yeah, I don’t really get it either,” Zell says. “Something about, uh, making all of time exist at once or something? But I’m pretty sure we need to stop it.”

“This sorceress is a very long way in the future,” Quistis says. “The end of humanity, apparently; thousands of years, at least. Do you think you can send us to her?”

That long? Ellone asks, sounding startled. In the future? Are you sure?

“We’ve only seen the past,” Squall says. “We weren’t sure whether you could access the future as well.”

I – I’ve sent people forward before, but... thousands of years?

“What, it’s harder to send us a long way?” Zell asks. “I guess that makes sense.”

It’s not just that, she thinks, anxiously. She sounds very young. It’s strange; Ellone was always the oldest, the responsible one, and it’s easy to forget that now she’s younger than any of them. I – I can’t do it. I can only send people I know into other people I know. I can’t send you that far into the future. I won’t know anyone.

“You’re sure?” Quistis asks, after a moment.

I’m really sorry, Ellone thinks. I’m really sorry. I can kind of... look forward and see who I know, but it’s not – it’s not even a hundred years before it’s all just strangers. I want to be able to help you. Especially after you woke me up, and... She hesitates. Am I going to be a Cie’th? Are we... are we all...

For a moment, nobody speaks.

“There’s gotta be something,” Rinoa says eventually, into the silence. “This can’t just be the end.”

Squall tries to think. This isn’t just about completing their Focus any more; if they don’t stop Ultimecia, all of existence will end. They have to do something.

But it seems like a dead end. Who will Ellone know in Ultimecia’s future? Herself? Her consciousness might still exist within the crystal, he supposes. But even if she can send them into herself, what good will they be able to do there, trapped in immobile crystal?

Thousands of years? Ellone is thinking to herself. But they wouldn’t give me a Focus I couldn’t do, right?

Time Compression is already beginning, it seems, time drawing itself slowly inward to a single point. In a world where time has no meaning it should be possible to reach her, but they can’t afford to wait that long. The l’Cie time limit is ticking down, and if they let Time Compression take place there’s no guarantee that destroying Ultimecia will reverse it. They have to strike first.

Think.

Time Compression is already beginning. They have to reach Ultimecia before it advances too far. Ultimecia is in the future. Ellone can send their consciousnesses to another time, but only if she can anchor them to people she knows in that time. Those are the facts.

Think.

Time Compression is already beginning. Shadows of other times are flickering through. In Time Compression, all things exist at all places and all times. Does that mean some aspect of the six of them might already exist in Ultimecia’s time? If that’s the case, if they could make use of that somehow...

It probably won’t work.

It’s the only thing he can think of.

“Ellone,” he says. “If Time Compression has already begun, does that mean we and the future exist at the same time?”

I don’t know, she thinks, confused. What do you mean? I don’t really know anything about Time Compression.

He hesitates, then reaches out to lay his hand on the smooth crystal of hers. “I need you to look into the future,” he says. “As far forward as you can. Look for us.”

“Wait,” Quistis says. “Do you mean...?”

You want me to send you forward into yourselves?

“Would that work?” Quistis asks.

“Probably not,” Squall says. “Ellone?”

Ellone is silent for a long moment. I’m sorry, she thinks, eventually. I think I’ve found the right time, but I can’t see you guys there.

Zell’s shoulders slump and he hangs his head, dejected. Squall sighs. He wasn’t really expecting it to work, but it’s not easy to suppress hope completely. Now he only has his backup plan, and his backup plan is terrible. “Can you see yourself in that future?” he asks. “I don’t really know how we’d—”

Wait! Ellone mentally exclaims. You were there. I saw it. Just for a moment, but I saw it.

Squall cuts himself off, staring at her.

“You kidding?” Zell asks. “Us? Way in the future?”

There! Ellone thinks. Not all of you that time. Just Quisty and... Rinoa, I think? I don’t know her as well as the rest of you; it’s harder to see her. But there are flashes when it’s like... for a moment, I can see you in every time. Does that make sense?

“Does that mean you can send us forward?” Rinoa asks.

Maybe. I don’t know. There! This time Squall feels something, a sort of pulse in his head, a ripple in his vision, gone so quickly he might have been imagining it. That was just Squall. If I’m quick enough, I might be able to send you forward during the flashes. But I don’t know whether you’ll be able to stay in the future or you’ll just be dragged back here when the flash ends.

“Worth a try, isn’t it?” Rinoa asks, looking over at Squall. “If it doesn’t work, we can just try something else.”

Easy to say, Squall thinks, but what else can they try? “We may not have another chance.” He looks around at the others to check that everyone’s in agreement, then turns back to Ellone. “Ellone, see if you can manage it.”

Okay, Ellone thinks. I might not be able to send you all at once, but I’ll try to send you all. And then she falls silent.

The silence lasts for several long minutes. Eventually Seifer rolls his eyes and, for no apparent reason, unsheathes his gunblade. “Okay, we all know this isn’t gonna work, and I’m not just gonna stand around and wait to become a—”

And then he’s gone. There’s no puff of smoke or noise; he’s just gone, as if he’d never been there in the first place. Squall whips around to find that Quistis is gone as well.

“Ellone!” he shouts.

What? Ellone asks, sounding alarmed. What happened?

Of course: she can’t see. “Quistis and Seifer. Did you try to send them into the future?”

Just now. What’s wrong?

“What the hell?” Zell demands. “We always just passed out before, right?” He looks to Rinoa for confirmation; she nods once, looking pale. “So where the hell’d they go?”

They’ve gone? Ellone asks, an edge of horror in her thoughts now.

“So you weren’t expecting this?” Squall asks.

No! I’ve never— and then Squall feels her relief so strongly that for a moment he almost forgets about Time Compression and impending Cie’thhood. No, they’re okay. I can see them. They’re in the future.

“So we’re actually getting to travel in time?” Selphie asks, clapping her hands together. “Whoo-hoo!”

It must be because they weren’t really there, Ellone thinks. The flashes let me send them forward, but there wasn’t anything there for me to attach them to, so...

“In any case,” Squall says, “it seems we can reach Ultimecia.” He looks around at the others. “Is everyone ready?”

Rinoa is biting her lip.

“I know we have to go,” she says, “but... how are we going to come back?”

“We may not be able to,” Squall says. “That’s why we need to be prepared for the fight.”

“No,” Rinoa says, “I mean... after we win. How are we going to come back?”

After they win?

“Does it matter?” Squall asks.

Rinoa stares at him. “What are you talking about? Of course it matters!”

Squall frowns. “This is our Focus, or at least we think it is,” he says. “If we win, we’ll turn to crystal. What time we’re in won’t change that.”

Rinoa takes a step back, her expression and voice softening in a way Squall can’t interpret. “And you think that means it doesn’t make a difference?”

“She’s right,” Zell says. “When I’m a crystal, I want to be somewhere my Ma can visit.”

“We were able to get through to Ellone,” Rinoa says. “What if our friends here will be able to speak to us?”

It took effort to break through Ellone’s dreams, Squall thinks. Who’s going to make that effort for him, either here or in the future? The only people who might have will be trapped in crystal as well.

Besides, Squall suspects Ellone, with her strange powers and her incomplete Focus, might be the only crystallised l’Cie with true awareness; wouldn’t it have been discovered earlier that it was possible to communicate with those ‘blessed by the fal’Cie’ otherwise? There are people who keep the crystals that were once their family members in their homes and speak to them every day; Squall has never heard of any of them speaking back. It might give Zone and Watts and Zell’s mother some kind of comfort to have their crystals nearby – Squall finds it hard to imagine thinking of them as anything other than a symbol of loss – but they won’t be able to do anything for Zell or Rinoa. The six of them will never be conscious again.

So no, Squall doesn’t see much difference between being imprisoned here and being imprisoned thousands of years from now. But it matters to the others, and so...

“Ellone?” he asks. “Is there anything you can do?”

I can try, she thinks, uncertainly. The flashes should let me bring you back here, but if Time Compression’s making them happen and you’re trying to stop it, maybe they’ll stop as well? And maybe if this is meant to be my Focus, I won’t be able to... I mean, normal l’Cie crystals... She hesitates. I should be able to watch what happens. I’ll try to pull you out before Time Compression ends, if you manage it. But it might not work. If it doesn’t, I’m sorry.

Nobody speaks for a moment. Even Selphie is looking a little down, Squall realises. None of them want to end up trapped in an empty future. But it doesn’t matter to him.

“You don’t have to come with me,” he says. “If I—”

“Hey, don’t start talking like that,” Zell interrupts him. “No going-to-face-her-alone stuff. We’re all gonna be there with you.”

“Yeah, you’re not getting her all to yourself, mister.” Selphie actually throws her arms around him, which Squall really doesn’t know how to react to. He touches his hand to her back after a moment and looks helplessly at Rinoa, who has to put a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter.

“I think we all knew you’d have gone on your own if we’d asked you to,” Rinoa says, when she’s composed herself. “There’s a reason we never asked.”

Squall hesitates, then nods. Selphie has, thankfully, let go of him. “If you’re all sure.”

The castle towers in a darkened sky, casting its vast shadow over everything in sight. The six of them stand side by side on its twisting stone front steps, looking up at it. It’s enormous, Squall thinks. Comparatively, they are specks. But they’re specks who have made it this far.

“Hey, sorry we took so long, by the way,” Selphie calls over to Seifer and Quistis.

Quistis frowns. “Took so long? To get here? I thought we all arrived together.”

“Really?” Selphie asks. “We were talking to Ellone for ages after you guys went.”

Time travel seems like a hard thing to get used to, Squall thinks. Of course, it’s not like they’re going to have to get used to it.

“So what were you keeping us waiting for?” Seifer asks.

“Thought Quistis just said we weren’t keeping you waiting,” Zell says.

“Well, you thought you were keeping us waiting,” Seifer points out. “So you must’ve thought something was worth it. What was it? I’m pretty sure you weren’t just talking to her about hair gel.”

Squall gives them a brief run-down of the situation: that their bodies have actually been transferred here, that they can probably go back now but there’s no guarantee that they’ll be able to later.

“I suppose that explains why I feel in complete control,” Quistis says, thoughtfully. “I never felt I could control what Kiros did or said beyond a sort of subliminal influence. I thought I’d have to wrestle with some sort of duplicate consciousness when I was transferred into myself.”

“Are you still prepared to do this?” Squall asks them.

Seifer snorts. “You think I’m going to sit back and let you complete my Focus for me? I’m here; I’m seeing this through.”

It’s the answer he was expecting; he’s never known Seifer to back down. Selphie and Zell and Rinoa all said, when he offered them a way out, that he wouldn’t have to face Ultimecia alone, but the possibility of facing her alone hadn’t occurred to him; of course Seifer was going to be with him. “Quistis?”

“Oh, you shouldn’t even have to ask,” she says, impatiently. “Of course I’ll fight with you.”

All five of them want to be there with him? It seems unlikely.

“I want to know you understand what’s at stake here,” Squall says, raising his voice slightly to address all of them. “This is a real offer. If Ellone can’t—”

“Stop it,” Quistis interrupts him. “If you can’t believe we want to be there by your side, believe that we want to give ourselves the best possible chance of succeeding. There’s a lot more at stake than just us.”

Squall falls silent.

“All right,” he says, after a moment. “We’ll fight her together.”

Chapter Text

Ultimecia sits in silence upon her throne, waiting for them to approach. Squall is feeling worn out after battling through the monsters guarding her castle, and he knows the others must feel the same, but he tries to hide it. This is the only thing left, he tells himself. He can put everything into this battle, because it’s the last thing he’ll ever have to do.

He grips the handle of his gunblade, preparing to draw it, but a hand on his arm stops him.

“We might not even have to fight,” Rinoa says, quietly. “We can try just talking to her. Maybe she’ll listen.”

They have to fight, of course. The fal’Cie evidently thought it needed six people to carry out this task; they were never just going to talk to the sorceress.

Kan you tell me, l’Cie, that you would not stay time if you had the power?

Maybe not. But, one way or another, it’s a question they won’t have to think about for much longer.

Ultimecia was born at the end of existence. Obliterating history probably doesn’t seem like such a big thing to do when that history’s already been and gone. Everyone who will be affected is dead already, from her perspective. Why not compress time?

This is why Squall didn’t want to speak to her; he didn’t want this uncertainty. Can he really say that compressing time – making sure humanity continues to exist, in some warped way – is something that has to be stopped?

Right now, all he can do is throw away the big picture. Forget about humanity and existence and the fate of the world. He doesn’t know what’s right; there’s no way of knowing.

But he knows what their Focus is, and he knows that the others don’t want to be Cie’th.

There’s a moment when Squall is calling up Shiva and Rinoa falls at his feet with a cry of pain, blasted across the room, and he looks down at her and he realises with a twist of his gut that she’s in trouble. She doesn’t have their training, their experience; that last spell hit her hard, and if she isn’t healed now—

For just an instant he tries to ask himself whether he should carry on with the summon, whether it really makes a difference if she dies here or ends up imprisoned in crystal for eternity.

But he’s already dismissed Shiva, because he knows it’s not even a question. Maybe becoming crystal is the same as dying, but he’s still going to protect all of them. If he can keep them alive, even if it’s only for a few more minutes, he will.

He’s helping her to her feet before the glow of curative magic has even faded, and he looks up to make sure they’re not in danger and locks eyes with the sorceress and

locks eyes with the sorceress and

and all he can see are her eyes, and

The sky is dark red and casts no light; he can see the skewed black silhouettes of broken buildings against it, rising above him, but he can’t make out any detail in his surroundings. The ground, when he pulls off a glove and crouches to touch it, feels like it’s covered in some sort of sand or dust. Everything is silent.

He doesn’t know how he got to this place. What happened? Did Ellone try to pull him out of there, end up dropping him somewhere accidentally?

It doesn’t really matter any more.

At least he’s alone. When time runs out and he becomes a monster, there won’t be anyone around for him to put in danger. He’s killed enough people already. More than enough.

Why did he attack that fal’Cie? What was he even thinking? He was doing it... what, for Ellone? It wouldn’t have changed anything for her. Some stupid, impossible stab at revenge for something he didn’t even remember, and now everyone he’s ever mattered to is worse than dead.

He deserves so much worse than being a Cie’th.

Squall starts walking, even though there’s no point. He needs to do something, anything that isn’t just standing there and thinking about the look in the others’ eyes as they changed, one by one.

But of course walking isn’t enough. It isn’t the kind of thing you can stop picturing.

They all looked at him, at the end. Blaming him? Begging him to save them somehow?

He stares at the dead sky.

He let himself get attached. He’s known for so long that getting attached to anyone is a mistake, that the people you care about only ever leave you. He knew from the moment they were all branded – the moment they were branded because of him – that there was a clock counting down on their lives. Somehow, even knowing that, he was still stupid enough to let the others matter to him.

And now he’s alone.

Selphie’s down, you fuckers, am I the only one even paying attention—

He’s... alone?

I don’t know any healing magic – you’d better bring her round, Dincht, I’m not having her on my conscience—

Squall’s still out, I’m tryin’ to—

I’m on it.

(Rinoa?)

(No. There’s nobody here.)

This a battle or a hospital ward? Gonna be no one left to fight her at this rate. You’d better stay on your feet, Instructor.

I intend to.

There’s a wind roaring in his ears, but the air feels still and heavy around him.

Squall, man, wake up! C’mon! We need you!

He’s alone. He’s alone. He’s...

There’s something ahead of him in the darkness. A dim light.

He runs to catch up with it.

It’s someone else. A girl, or a young woman. She turns at the sound of his footsteps with an intake of breath, grabbing... it looks like she’s grabbing something, she holds it like it’s a weapon, a sword, but there’s nothing in her hands.

Her reaction makes him go for his gunblade automatically, but it isn’t here, he must have lost that as well, and he’s barely had time to register that when the girl comes out of her combat stance, her eyes widening.

“Squall?”

What?

He’s never met her before. Her hair is pink. He would have remembered.

Or is this like the orphanage?

“How are you here?” she asks. “This is Noel’s dream. Isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about? How do you know me?”

“You don’t remember me?” She hesitates. “Or... maybe we haven’t met yet? I’m still kind of new to this time-travel thing. It’s a little confusing.”

Squall’s first instinct is to dismiss what she’s saying as ridiculous, some kind of delusion, but... he’s travelled in time himself, hasn’t he?

Is this Time Compression? All of time has been drawn together, and now he’s meeting people from his future?

How can he have a future? The others are all Cie’th already; it can’t be long before he follows them.

She smiles a little. It reminds him of Rinoa, and he has to look away. “I forgot: you don’t talk much, do you? I’m Serah. Lightning’s sister.” She says it as if it should mean something to him. “So how did you get here?”

He stares out at the darkened landscape. “I don’t know.”

“Were, um.” She hesitates. “Were you fighting someone?”

He looks back at her. Now that he pays attention, he can’t tell where the light around her is coming from. She isn’t holding a flashlight. Some kind of magic? “We lost.”

She nods. “Okay. Squall, this isn’t real. This is a dream. The person you were fighting, they put you here so you wouldn’t bother them any more. You have to wake up.”

This is a dream?

I know what dreams feel like, he wants to say, but then he remembers Laguna. Is this something more like that?

Wait. Does that mean...?

No. He can’t start thinking – he can’t do that. They’re Cie’th. They’re gone.

But maybe, if what Serah is telling him is true, he can at least defeat Ultimecia in their memory.

“How do I wake up?” he asks.

She laughs, awkwardly. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? If you find out, maybe you can tell me.”

Is that supposed to mean she’s real? Someone else sharing the same dream, like when he and the others had the same visions of Laguna?

(Thinking of Laguna makes him think of Selphie. He didn’t even know her, and he got her dragged into this.)

But Serah knew his name without being told. She’s a figment of his imagination.

This is a dream. Squall looks around again, trying to keep that in his mind. It looks real, but the red sky, the stillness of the air, the wreck of whatever town this used to be, it’s all a dream.

If he’s dreaming, his real body has to be somewhere.

He closes his eyes and concentrates. Where is he? What is he feeling? What is he—

Squall!

It feels like something in his chest has been wrenched sideways. They’re gone.

Damn it, wake up! Squall!

“I think someone’s saying my name,” he says, his eyes still closed.

“Maybe that’s the answer,” Serah says. “Try focusing on that.”

Squall shakes his head. “It isn’t real.”

“You can still try, can’t you?”

Squall, don’t you dare die on me, a voice hisses in his ear. Don’t you fucking dare. We’re all getting through this. I’m gonna strike the final blow, and like hell you’re not gonna be watching.

It’s so familiar. Squall tries to focus.

I know you’re stronger than this. You’ve beaten me. You’re really gonna let this one fight take you down?

“Seifer?”

Squall opens his eyes.

A field of stars. An illusion, like the ruins. But the people around him are real. The enemy is real. His allies – Zell, Quistis, Selphie, Rinoa – they’re real, they’re here.

And Seifer is real, letting go of Squall’s jacket and smirking at him.

“Are you gonna help or what?”

There’s a long silence after Ultimecia falls.

“Is that it?” Zell asks. He’s speaking more quietly than usual, but it still sounds too loud in the almost total absence of noise. “Did we complete our Focus?”

Space disintegrates around them, still without making a sound, and... they’re standing in bright sunlight, in the flower field by the old orphanage. There’s a light breeze. Squall can hear birdsong.

Ellone, he thinks. She brought them back.

“Well,” Rinoa says, with a small smile, “even if that wasn’t our Focus, I think we just saved the world. That’s gotta count for something.”

And then their brands begin to glow. They were right, Squall realises: that was their Focus, and now this is the end for them. It’s a better ending than the alternative, but it’s still the end.

He looks around at the others – Rinoa, Zell, Selphie, Quistis, Seifer – as they start to rise off the ground and so does he, and he realises – he doesn’t want to lose any of them. He’s not ready for this.

He draws breath to say something – he doesn’t know what, a goodbye, something – but—

Chapter Text

They sleep for a very long time. They sleep until the Gardens are abandoned and forgotten. They sleep while a freak Lunar Cry pours monsters onto the world for years, rendering it almost uninhabitable. They sleep while most of the surviving human population migrate to the moon, build a new society around the fal’Cie they brought with them, go to war with the world below.

And then one day, long after history has pushed them aside as saviours of a world nobody likes to think about, they wake up.

“Hey! Hey, Lightning! You guys! You see this?”

Zell? Squall thinks, confused and groggy. It’s an enthusiastic male voice, but something about it isn’t quite right.

“Look at these guys! This is what’s gonna happen to Serah! And Dajh! They’ll be fine!”

“See?” Another voice, this one female. “What’d me and Vanille tell you?”

Bright sunlight is glowing through Squall’s eyelids. It feels like he’s lying on grass. He keeps his eyes closed and feigns unconsciousness as he tries to assess what the situation is and how he got here. The two voices have very different accents, but he can’t place either of them with confidence. He thinks the man might be from the Galbadia region.

Serah. Why is that name bothering him?

“Dajh,” another male voice murmurs; this one sounds a little older. “Lucky they woke up when we were around, I guess; I wouldn’t want to have to fend for myself in this place.”

“Well, they’ve got each other,” yet another voice points out – a woman or even a girl; she sounds quite young. “And I think they could probably have taken care of themselves. That jacket looks like Behemoth leather to me.”

“Yeah, but look at the stitches, Vanille,” the first woman says. “Looks like something from you Cocoon guys’ clothes machines. He didn’t make that himself.”

They don’t seem hostile. Still, Squall keeps his eyes closed for the moment, trying to gather more information. Why can’t he remember how he got here?

“In any case, nothing lucky about it,” a third female voice says, sounding almost amused. “I’m prepared to bet all our gil their new Focus has something to do with us.” Her tone changes slightly halfway through, as if something has caught her attention. “Are those gunblades? I’ve never seen those models before. Do they even have a folding mechanism?”

Someone else speaks, but Squall isn’t paying attention. Something in what she just said is bothering him, trapped and fluttering in his mind.

Focus.

Oh.

The first person Squall sees when he opens his eyes is a young man who looks unsettlingly familiar. For a moment he thinks it’s just the blond hair and vaguely Seifer-esque grey trenchcoat, but then he recognises the strange, disconcerting do I know you? feeling of meeting someone your GF remembers. At some point, this man has junctioned Shiva.

“Hey, this one’s awake!” the man announces cheerfully. He holds out a hand, and his expression is so open and friendly and unlike Seifer that for a moment Squall has difficulty mentally reconciling it with the coat. “Better take care; it looks like you’ve been out a long time. What’s your name?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Squall accepts the hand and pulls himself to his feet; his legs feel a little strange, as if they belong to someone else and he’s borrowed them for a moment, but he can remain standing easily enough. He’s surrounded by the mysterious speakers, but right now his main priority is his teammates, who are at present sprawled on the ground around him but beginning to stir. Rinoa unfolds her limbs as he watches and manages to push herself up into a sitting position, looking up at the sky. “Oh, wow,” she says softly, “what happened to the moon?”

“My name is Squall,” he says, once he’s satisfied that everyone is accounted for and appears to be alive. “These are Rinoa, Zell, Seifer, Quis—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” a woman interrupts him. She’s dark-haired, dressed in blue, and Squall recognises her from her accent as the second person to speak when he was regaining consciousness. “Is this supposed to be a joke?”

Squall cuts himself off and frowns, confused.

The red-headed girl next to her claps her hands together. “Well, we know they completed a Focus,” she says, “so maybe they really could be...”

“You two care to share with the rest of us?” asks an older, dark-skinned man.

We know they completed a Focus, Squall thinks. So they must have been in crystal stasis, and they must have just become uncrystallised. He was beginning to suspect it already, it was the only possibility that seemed to make sense, but to have it confirmed...

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t know,” the woman in blue says. “The Heroes of Time? Sorceress Ultimecia? Ringing any bells?” She gives an incredulous laugh. “You’re telling me the people of Cocoon hate this place so much they even cut that out of the history lessons? Cocoon wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for these guys.”

“Sounds impressive,” says the guy in the grey trenchcoat. “Hope? You seem like the kind of guy who paid attention in school.”

‘Hope’ shakes his head. “I don’t remember anything about any ‘heroes of time’.”

“Hey, wait, we’re heroes?” Selphie chirrups from the ground. She bounces to her feet. “That is so cool!”

“Heroes history’s forgotten about, sounds like,” Seifer mutters, bracing himself on the handle of his gunblade as he stands. “Should’ve picked a more memorable leader.”

“So... wait,” Zell says. He’s sitting up on the grass, rubbing his head. “We completed our Focus, didn’t we? So we must’ve been crystal. I thought that was game over for us. And now we’re... waking up? You can do that?”

Rinoa winks at him. “Told you, didn’t I?”

“Okay,” Zell says. “From now on, I vote we believe everything Rinoa says. Man, I can’t believe we’re still around.”

“The question is,” Quistis says, and at the sound of her voice Squall can relax a little – they’re all alive, they’re all conscious – “how long were we in crystal for? If it was long enough for us to pass into history and then be forgotten...”

“We’ve heard of you,” the red-headed girl points out.

“We’re not the best example, Vanille,” her dark-haired companion says. “Must’ve learnt about them more than a couple of years ago.”

She touches her shoulder as she speaks, and for the first time Squall notices the strange, scorched l’Cie mark there. Now that he’s paying attention, there’s a mark on the arm of the trenchcoated man as well, but that one looks normal. Dangerously far along, but normal.

Squall lifts the hem of his shirt to check on his brand. It looks... renewed, back at stage one, as if he only attacked the fal’Cie yesterday. He remembers one of the strangers saying something about a ‘new Focus’.

“It’s been five hundred years since the War of Transgression,” Hope says helpfully, addressing Quistis.

Quistis looks at Squall. Squall looks back. They must both be thinking the same thing: that’s a long, long time after an event they’ve never heard of. How long were they in crystal?

“No way,” Zell breathes.

“That’s not gonna be any use to them,” says the dark-haired woman. “We’re talking way pre-war here. These guys were saving the world before Cocoon was even an idea.” She folds her arms, sizing them up. “So which one of you is Seifer? I always thought he sounded the most interesting.”

Seifer laughs, coming up beside Squall. “See?” he says quietly into Squall’s ear. “They’d never have forgotten us if I’d been leader.”

I never asked to be leader, Squall thinks. But for the first time it really hits him that he didn’t fail. They didn’t fail. He may not have got everything right, and they may now have a new set of problems, but – if these women are to be believed – they saved the world.

He looks around at the others. All alive, all conscious. They were in crystal, but they came back. He’d thought he would never see any of them again. It’s hard to believe he’s not dreaming.

A third woman steps forward now. Her hair is pale pink; against regulations, thinks the part of Squall’s mind that never completely left the Garden. Something about it seems familiar. “We can have introductions later,” she says. “Do we want to take them with us?”

“Well, they did save the whole of time,” says the dark-haired woman. “We could probably do worse.”

“Uh, shouldn’t we find out whether they want to come with us?” asks the older man. His hair appears to make a chirp of agreement, which may be the most confusing thing about this entire situation. “You know. Just a thought.”

Everyone looks at Squall: everyone, that is, except Seifer, who notices where everyone is looking and says in irritation, “I’m gonna explore this place on my own. Don’t come after me.”

“Not your best idea, sunshine,” says the dark-haired woman. “As I understand it, you come from less monstery times. At the very least you’ll want someone to watch your back. One Long Gui footstep and it’s bye-bye Hero of Time. I’m guessing you’re Seifer.”

“I think travelling together might be our best option,” Quistis says. “It seems we were in stasis for a very long time. We have to assume that any information we have about the world may now be out of date. If we have an opportunity to learn from people with more experience of this time, we should take it.”

It’s a relief to Squall to have the decision taken off his shoulders for once, and the fact that it’s Quistis speaking seems to mollify Seifer a little, remind him that this isn’t actually a Squall-run dictatorship. It’s sound reasoning, and after a short discussion the group conclude that they’re willing to travel with the people who found them for now.

“Great!” says the trenchcoated man, grinning broadly, when they report their decision. “The more the merrier, right?”

This has never been Squall’s philosophy, but he says nothing.

“All right,” says the woman with pink hair. “You’ll have woken up with a new Focus. It might even be ours, if the fal’Cie don’t think we’re doing our jobs well enough. That’s how being a l’Cie works: you’re a slave of the fal’Cie forever, or at least until you fail and turn into a monster.” She smiles grimly. “We’re looking for a third option. You’re going to help us find it.”

A third option? It seems impossible, but he didn’t think they’d be able to come back from the crystal state, either.

They woke up, Squall thinks. Is Ellone here somewhere, in this new world?

He nods. “Let’s go.”