Perfection. The day had gone off to perfection. And part of what made it perfect was that Seifer didn't even know it.

Games within games, plans within plans with every encounter and every person slotting neatly each into another and another. Seifer had gone exactly where Squall wanted him to go, down to the smallest change of expression, herded like an unknowing sheep into precisely the right place on the board at precisely the right time. And now he'd be in lockup for a week, and Squall would get some rest. In a real bed, even, without fear of retribution or sudden unwanted companionship.

It was more than worth being so exhausted his muscles trembled and every breath hovered on the edge of laughter. It was more than worth the efforts he'd have to make to ensure that Seifer wasn't given time to go over the events leading to his captivity, as well. Seifer didn't like to think things out; Squall would have that tendency going for him - and he intended to use it, too. If Squall arranged matters so that Seifer was given something else to focus on, he'd do that. And since Fujin and Raijin were Seifer's eyes and ears...it wasn't too hard to make sure enough confusing rumors circulated down to the holding cells to keep Seifer's brain busy.

He wasn't free yet - oh, not by a long space. There was another month to go before the field exam...but he'd netted himself a week. With any luck Seifer would be focusing on getting out of lockup after the minimum week - which was all the time Squall was counting on anyway - so that he didn't miss any last prerequisites for taking the field exam. Squall wasn't inclined to believe in luck. Chaos, random elements, yes. But luck? A tactician made his own luck. And Squall had just made himself a windfall of it.

If only it hadn't cost quite so much. Squall could only ensure he'd be teamed with Seifer - not hard since Seifer was pulling strings on his own to get the same thing. He hadn't been able to guarantee who the third member of his team had been - and of course it had been Zell. Squall had information enough to suspect Zell had pulled strings of his own to get on that team...and the plan had required sacrifice. Zell had almost cost him...not the game, no. But it had nearly been him in that lockup.

The first rule of the tactician - work with what is. Don't wish, don't dream. Take what you're given and squeeze everything you can out of it. Regret later.

Regret that he'd had to play the role of Seifer's boy for Zell's benefit - though Squall was sure Zell wouldn't see it that way. With any other cadet Squall could have been distantly companionable and counted on Seifer to pull the wool the rest of the way. Zell was too sharp-eyed for any sign that Seifer's hold was weakening, and didn't seem to care that this would logically mean Seifer was free to prowl for a new pet. So Squall had had to be very careful what he said, and when, and how. He never lied, not outright, but it had pleased Seifer no end to watch Squall mislead by omission and misdirection, and that had stung like acid...and yet. In retrospect, that was what had allowed Squall to win this round.

Well...Zell was fine now, and Seifer in lockup for a week, and that was more than enough cause to do a little kicking back. One day, maybe even only a few months from now, he might have Zell with him. Squall had worn the memory of Zell's playing thin, he'd repeated it in his mind so often. And once or twice since the first chance listen, he'd been able to catch snatches of the music. It was always welcome, always a release.

But how much more of one to be the one playing - just this once, where people might hear. Squall had made sure of his route, taking back ways and vents and in general ten times more caution than the situation might require, and he'd brought his guitar and his amp from their hidden place to this place without a single living thing seeing him do it.

The top of the Garden. From here, perched on the rounded bubble of its highest point, Squall could see all the way to Balamb town, all the way to the sea, and above the light-rings he was invisible and safe. All the same, even in celebration he wouldn't take chances. One song. And while they were looking for the source, he would slip away again. Just one. He plugged the amp into its portable power pack and aimed it upward. Let the sound float downward like rain, sourceless and faint. He plugged the guitar into the amp, and the headphones so that he could tune it without getting noisy about it.

He'd only have once. One song, just to cut loose for a few minutes and crow. And he could ride the high of that all the way to the field exam.

He started small and simple, a gentle rising and falling cadence to adjust his mind set, let him fall into the Zen state where intent became sound and emotion became music. A light, happy, simple cadence that was completely opposite to the self that played chess on a board made of Garden's rules with every person a piece in the game against uncounted foes.

He wove a melody past the simple cadence, slow and swinging, building on the gentle rise and fall and taking it into a high, soaring sound - contentment, flying, here from the top of Garden into the world. In a way, a quiet joy. Victory achieved, respite gained, stretch cramped wings and just let the wind blow a while.

Squall couldn't leave things simple, though. Once into the feel of it, the flying high notes grew complex - a bird doing stunts in the sky, playing tag with clouds for the hell of it. This was cutting loose, putting everything into the notes he couldn't do any other way no matter how much he might like to. The music did twists and flips, high and soaring.

After a while though, it dipped as Squall lapsed into worry. He knew Zell hadn't taken any lasting hurt, but the field exam was only a month or so away. Would Zell understand today's maneuvers? Though the music was still flying, it was complicated and slower as Squall tried to believe that it hadn't been for nothing. That the game was still in force, the chance still available at the end of it. The determination leaked out through his hands and the strings, making strong notes and a strong, complex melody. Quistis might enjoy predicting his remarks, but he really was more complex than she thought. If only he hadn't had to take that particular route...it would have been nice, this close to endgame, to drop Zell at least a small hint that a game was all there had ever been between himself and Seifer.

Can you hear? Squall wondered. I'm sorry, if that means anything to you. Here - take this, if you can, wrap it to yourself as I have taken the sounds of your saxophone to sleep with me, do not lose hope. The thoughts were prayer, notes high and light as words to heaven. I will play this for you, one day, and you will know it was me here, now, dreaming dreams of the future...will it matter to you then?

Enough. The game wasn't over, the great endgame not even started, and anything could happen. Get your head out of the clouds, Leonhart, or you'll lose it. For a moment the music turned rough, almost harsh, but Squall didn't want to end his little serenade like that. His fingers danced along frets and strings as he played note after note in rapid sequence, dancing up and down the scale just for the hell of it. And somewhere his original contentment returned to him, and the rising and falling cadence returned to his music. Whatever else might come, tonight he had. He could go down from this place and find his room empty and safe, and sleep the full and sound sleep of one who had nothing else in Garden to fear.

His time was almost up. He could see, down below, a few people pausing in their walks around the campus to turn their heads this way and that as they tried to discern the source of the sound. Squall played well, he knew that - and that too would give him time, as they stopped to simply listen as opposed to immediately hunting him down. His music turned wry at the thought, and began making a complex descent. I'm not playing for you, any of you. And the one I am playing for doesn't even know it's me if he can hear it at all...

That ended the music on a sad note, a low repeating throb not unlike a heartbeat. It would lock the song in listener's minds, and maybe in the one mind that mattered.

But now was not the time. With practiced ease, Squall disconnected everything and put it away, got the handles in order and slipped out of sight - back into the byways of Garden as the lights just began to shine. He knew more than enough of Garden's search tactics to know where the holes in the net were, and he made it back to the place where he stored his gear - and from there back to his room - without incident even as the searching increased.

When Fujin knocked on his door he was just getting out of the shower, and had no trouble plastering a disgruntled look on his face as he said of course he'd been here, where else would he be? And no, he hadn't heard anything unusual, but then he'd been in the shower...