The grand ballroom on the third floor was rarely used - only for formal occasions, and Garden didn't make a habit of them. One or two in a given year, perhaps.

It was grand, though. Huge open space, high vaulted ceilings, acoustics musicians dreamed of.

Squall used it to practice stealth techniques - on the assumption that if you could go undetected here, you could go undetected damn near anywhere. He didn't change his clothing, either - he stayed in the black and silver cadet uniform and ordinary boots, because in the field he might not be lucky enough to have a spare change of clothes handy just to go sneaking around in.

It had taken him weeks just to get the hang of the light tread that would mean his boots didn't echo on the floor. The ballroom picked up any sound, no matter how small, and echoed it and magnified it by a factor of ten. But that, at least, he could do now. Soundless step, even in street boots.

He could have come here anytime, but he preferred to come late at night - after everything but the training center was closed, after he'd fought in said training center for hours. It meant less chance being seen entering - less chance Seifer would find him. On clear, temperate nights Squall could even catch a few hours of sleep on one of the balconies, which left him stiff but at least he could sleep in the sure knowledge Seifer wasn't around to pull one of his stunts. He didn't sleep here all the time - no good at all being that easy to find - but it was one of his places. Seifer hadn't even tried searching the third floor yet.

It was Seifer, though, who was responsible for his being later than usual one night. The bastard had decided that no, merely sparring each other wasn't enough, and sparring monsters wasn't enough - let's try both at once, see who drops first. You and me and a nest of grats, Leonhart. Let's see who gets sleepy.

Squall hadn't won, but he'd stayed awake. He didn't trust Seifer farther than he could throw him - didn't trust Seifer not to push matters along, not to take powder-induced sleep as implied consent.

So he was about two hours later than he usually was, but thought nothing of it. He was, after all, alone.

At first.

He heard the door creak open and was grateful he'd learned the silent step - it gave him a few moments while the intruder's eyes adjusted to the darkness to find a place to hide. Squall had no desire to socialize, particularly not with whoever might come here at two in the morning for whatever reason, and perhaps his stealth was good enough to get him out of the room altogether without being seen. If it was Seifer, he knew where the balconies were and had an emergency escape route already planned.

When he saw the pale gold spikes of Zell's hair in the faint starlight, though, he opted to just stay put instead. He was fairly well hidden, in the shadows near the glass balcony door, and wanted to know what would bring the short blond up here at this time of night. Not stealth practice, that was certain.

There were several balconies to the grand ballroom. Zell chose one on the opposite side of the room from where Squall was hiding, and now Squall could see he was carrying a case with him.

What on earth was going on?

And then...Zell pulled a saxophone out of the case. Squall stared - he knew everyone had to take at least basic musical instruction, but this was hardly the time or place to practice. He prepared to slip out to the balcony window, along one of his escape routes - saxophones were hardly quiet instruments, and if he were found alone in Zell's company...no. Best not to think about that. The only way to keep the blond punk safe was to stay the hell away from him. Make sure Seifer never, ever guessed that he cared about the shorter man. Himself he could protect, fighting when he had to and hiding when he couldn't fight - but he couldn't keep both of them safe at once. Not if Seifer learned what Zell meant to him, what his value truly was in the game of cat and mouse they played.

He had just slipped out the door and was preparing to go over the rail - the sides of Garden's walls were smooth, but if he removed his gloves and boots he had found he could climb down to the second floor classrooms, and from there reach several other secluded places - when Zell, inside, oblivious, began to play.

Squall froze. This was...good. Incredibly good...and right. And somehow not at all what he would have expected Zell to ever play.

Almost without thinking he settled down just to the side of the balcony door, on the outside - where his faint shadow would not alert anyone inside. And just listened.

Low...and slow...and sad...and pure. Squall had lived on the edge for years now - ever since Seifer was assigned as his roommate. Always moving, always thinking, always planning. Always in combat even if he wasn't actually fighting. He hadn't slept in his own bed in several months, even - not since the blood party, when the stakes of the 'game' he and Seifer played had been upped drastically.

But listening to this...to Zell...his Zell...bringing forth - this - the tension drained out of him, a puppet with the strings temporarily cut. He rested his forehead against his knees, and tried not to cry - telling himself it was only exhaustion, too much for too long and no rest in sight. He'd had to stay away from Zell for Zell's own safety; there was no way the blond could be playing for him. Whoever he was playing for...Squall hoped they took care of him. Squall did his best, but he could not be with Zell and keep him safe. Too much ground to protect; Seifer was certainly canny enough to use Zell as a pawn if he knew to do so.

Must I always live in the chess match? Even pawns can hope to be queens. I will go - at best - from being Seifer's foe to Cid's pawn. And for what? Gil I never spend and a bullet at the end of it.

No. No more thoughts. Take the music as a gift, if an unwitting one. Lock it away in the secret places, listen closely. Memorize; the chance may never come again.

Eventually Zell finished his practicing - practicing? There hadn't been a single wrong note - and packed his instrument away again. Squall was half-tempted to follow, to make sure he got back to his room safely, unheard by any wakeful cadets, but that was too great a risk. He stayed where he was.

And replayed the music in his mind until he fell asleep.