She’s got a clipboard and a pen in hand, absolutely giddy that she’s actually gotten a few signatures for new committee members for the first time in what seems like weeks, and she perks up even further when she notices Cid strolling down the hall in her direction. Just the person she’d been wanting to speak to.

He doesn’t appear to be otherwise preoccupied, and her question should only really take a few moments to be answered, anyhow. It doesn’t hurt to try!

@headmasterkramer​ // ‘  things will work out,  but good things take time.  '

The words just barely register in Seifer’s mind as it tries to catch up with the events that had transpired over the course of a mere 48 hours.

At first it felt like they were all toying with Seifer for how long it took them to finally begin. Then, once it had, all of it came at once-- happening so fast that Seifer had no chance at keeping up with it all. It began with the hearing, and then came negotiation, examination, then even more grueling and torturous negotiations until finally, at last -- resentencing.

Resentenced. Released into Garden custody. For the first time in two years, Seifer was breathing fresh air.

But relief wouldn’t be felt. Not then, and certainly not as he stood before the Administration as they detailed the terms of their arrangement with the courts.

Seifer was now to be a Ward of the Garden System. He was to be monitored, at all times. Actvities, conversations, engagements-- all logged. Only two hours a day outside of his assigned room were alotted to him. He was to have absolutely zero communication with the outside world. Absolutely zero communication with Sorceress Rinoa Heartilly. Monitored, logged, babysat. There were no personal freedoms here, no right to privacy. And should Seifer dare to protest-- he was met with scrutiny. ‘You need to be grateful for the liberties you’ve been awarded,’ they said, ’you have so many already.’

He didn’t understand. He stood there with his arms folded in his front, staring at the empty chairs where the Administration sat -- a panel of men and women elected to represent Garden’s best interests and maintain the integrity of the system. When had this been implemented? Where did these people come from? What else had changed while Seifer had been away?

He’s... out of his element. And it’s no wonder-- that Cid was there long after Seifer was awarded those few short moments of silence. Of seclusion.

But when Cid speaks, all Seifer can do is shake his head, roll his eyes. Be indignant to these ‘treasured’ freedoms he already has. Be grateful. Good things take time.

He had to prove he could be trusted. That he would not fall into the same patterns of behavior they missed the last time. They missed. They. Yet, this was all somehow his fault.

Cowards...

@headmasterkramer​ says, “ take it easy, drugs are still wearing off. ”

The last thing Seifer remembered before waking up in the Infirmary was the open, gaping maw of one extremely territorial bull T-Rexaur charging toward Seifer with it’s angry, gnashing teeth. It should be no surprise that he’s struggling to gather his bearings, even fighting to get the IV and oxygen tube out.

Because all he’s feeling right now is pain. Pain that beleaguered once relaxed features and envelopes him in a whirl of misery -- the kind that drives Seifer to need to escape it, by any means necessary. So he fights restraints, gritted teeth bared as he twists, breaths short, vitals machines signaling distress..! 

But Kadowaki is already there, pushing in a dose of some miracle drug before from a mystery syringe before Seifer has a chance to really feel the extent of the damage by ripping open those delicate stitches. But damage from what? What the hell happened?! 

The heart monitor settles as he does, heavy pants are his only fast motion as he lulls his head downward, practically seeing the pain wash from his body, and leaving out the tips of his toes. There’s a dull throb, but it’s nothing like before. 

A heavy sigh leaves him, the restraints on his arms long enough for him to be able to rub his face. Once his eyes adjust, he starts to pull himself back together and eventually --- ah, yes... 

Now, he remembers the fall. Being chased out of the training center area where no one but the trained staff was allowed to go -- Seifer thought he was smart, cutting through the area... what he didn’t prepare for was running into the patch of decayed floor panels, eaten away by a decade of neglect and rust. 

And now here he was, his left leg suffering the worst of the damage, gnarled and hideous, held together with staples. “Was due for my tetanus shot any... anyway...” A heavy head lulls back, falling onto the pillow when it dawns on him what he was doing in the Training Center anyway... 

@hartofbalamb liked for a starter! 

And it looks like we’re going to have extra help rebuilding the Orphanage. The engineers at Fisherman’s Horizon offered their services.” Squall didn’t go there seeking help, merely to visit the Mayor as per his request and to update Martine on the events that had happened - assuring him his Garden was still in one piece, despite the battle that took place.

And during Squall’s visit he chatted with a couple of the Engineers - including thanking them again for their help with the Garden. But when Squall had mentioned rebuilding the Orphanage, he could see the excitement in their eyes, no doubt wanting to get their hands dirty. Apparently there hadn’t been much to do in FH as of late and so they offered their services which Squall accepted. The more help they had, the sooner the Orphanage would be complete. 

And he knew everyone - especially Cid and Edea were looking forward to that. “That’s all I have to report as of right now, Sir.” 

Hearing his Headmaster’s voice, Squall pulled his hands from the pile of rubble that he was knelt down by, arm moving to rest on his knee. “Just...looking.” For something in particular? Maybe, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up about it. This place had been destroyed years ago, so whatever belongings any of them had were probably long gone. Still, though, Squall couldn’t help but look - wanting to find anything that would make him remember his childhood just a little bit more. The more time he spent in this house, the more he began to remember - little flashes here and there, sometimes connecting to the moments he remembered completely. Like a puzzle coming together, but he wanted more.

Perhaps once this place was rebuilt...

(It’s going to take a while.) He thought to himself, but he was determined to help make it happen. 

@headmasterkramer

He’s been lurking on 3F for the better part of an hour, conveniently always finding better, more interesting things to do than literally, physically walk through the doorway into his father’s office, and he knows what Cid’s actually saying-- we’re here for you, but it seems just as hard to accept that as it does to put one foot in front of the other, to cross the threshold. 

Finally, he does, and lets out the breath that’s been threatening to strangle him. 

“--I.” Stops. Stares hard at one of the framed military awards above Cid’s left shoulder. Keeps his eyes there as he forces the rest of his sentence out. He wants this, wants the offering of help, a place to belong. 

They leave Balamb a little after 1600 on a Wednesday afternoon.  There has been a whole week leading up to this departure, and a collective unease amongst the four adults, in regards to their expectations, and what in fact will be reality.

Cid makes the call to take a private Garden jet out.  Why have such a luxury if you're not going to use it?  Never mind that it's the fastest, most effective means of travel. It's not abusing power when it's a practical decision all around,

It's a several hour flight, quicker than most, with the occasional chit-chat, and Edea being Edea, making sure that everyone is comfortable and has what they need. Perhaps they're just all on edge about what awaits them, or maybe it's that they still aren't comfortable being together in this capacity.  Still, no fights, no snarky comments, or looks of disapproval.  Just the constant lurching of stomachs, and attempts to distract oneself with phones and catnaps. 

There is a small landing strip nearby, installed years ago when Cid needed to travel back and forth during Garden's conceptualizing.  Their pilot has been told, this being the second occasion, to return for them on Sunday afternoon.  They don't even know if the house will be in any condition to stay in, but if worse comes to worse, the nearest town is only a thirty minute drive, a small inn available for emergency shelter.

Cid thinks back two decades, when Edea first brought him here.  They were newlyweds, and had been staying in a small apartment in Galbadia that said as much. Her sister, never a fan of Cid's, but who would do anything for Edea, had been left the house in their late father's will, an old family estate.  And her sister, who had been all but abandoned by their father and raised by her maternal grandmother, had said that the only thing she wanted from that man was the half-sister he had given her. 

A house as a wedding present. Not bad.  Not horrible, at least, they soon realized, the first time walking up that cobblestone path, arm in arm, Cid limping along on a cane.  He always felt bad that they never had that first over the threshold moment, but as the years went by, and he regained strength and usage in his leg, there were a lot of opportunities to make up for it.  They had had a lot of work ahead of them, but in all honesty, had enjoyed the work that went into making the abandoned house a home.  

Their home.

They disembark the jet, the old stone house a small distance on foot. There is a deafening silence as they approach, the ground soggy and their tracks in the mud. Cid isn't the least bit surprised when Edea slips her arm around his, latching on. Once it was something she did when they would go out for leisurely strolls, or just to feel close to him.  More recently, it has become a way of stabling herself when her nerves are shot.