Tress had believed it was just another day. He had sat on the couch, watching the news when he heard his father pick up the phone. His father cut off, and hearing the gasp, Tress turned around to peer over the back of the sofa. The man stood there speechless; his back to the kid. Tress watched him precariously, seeing the way his father's body tensed. At last Squall nodded, muttering a few words before slowly setting the phone back down. He held his hand there, breathing becoming a burden.

"Who was that Dad?" asked Tress, tilting his head.

"I have to go pick up your mother," Squall told him levelly. His hand slipped from the phone, but he seemed unable to move.

Tress remembered the calm feeling he had had, thinking that his mother was having just another bad day. He was too young to realize what was happening to her. His father would always snap at him when he brought the subject up.

"Can I come?" asked Tress, beating his legs against the couch. There was nothing to do at home.

Shaking his head slowly, Squall replied quietly, "No, you best stay here. I'll be back soon."

Without a glance at his son, Squall snatched the keys from the kitchen table, swinging his arms into his jacket as he neared the door. Sprinting off the couch, Tress came to a skidded halt on the wooded floor, calling, "Dad!" Squall paused in the doorway for a moment. Still he didn't turn to his son. "I just wanted to say I love you."

The man paused with hand on knob, staring blankly at the door. Tress grimaced at the tension; his father's hesitation drifting around him. After another moment, Squall just shook his head, swinging the door open and striding out into the midday sun; letting it slam shut behind him.

Tress remembered when they finally returned. He had been sitting despairingly on the couch, with one leg resting beneath the swinging one; remote held loosely in his hand, though the television wasn't on. He hadn't bothered with the lights. Seven chirps rang out from the cuckoo clock, making the boy frown. Squall had been gone for four hours now. How mother's work was only fifteen minutes away.

The sound of car doors slamming alerted the boy, as he raised his head hopefully. As the doorknob turned, Tress scrambled off the couch as it opened. A moment later his father strode in, guiding a blank eyed Rinoa.

"Mom!" cried Tress joyfully as they approached. They just strode past, and the smile slipped from their son's face as he watched his parents retreat into their bedroom.

Tress later discovered that his mother had been diagnosed with the chronic disease Lunar Revolver. He remembered sitting at the kitchen table throughout the night, not being able to sleep. When at last his father emerged to pour himself a cup of decaf, Tress looked up gloomily.

"What's going to happen to Mom?" he croaked, tears coming to his eyes.

Taking a sip of the coffee, Squall lowered it slowly, replying, "I don't know. She doesn't even know where she is at the moment."

"But," protested Tress earnestly, tears flowing silently. Still his father didn't look at him. "There's treatment now, right! Can't that help her!"

Pausing for a moment, Squall told his son, "They said the case has been developing slowly for the past four years. The reason they hadn't been able to trace it was because it started at several spots; too small to be noticeable."

"How can they not notice that!" exclaimed Tress, rising so fiercely that it caused the chair to fall back. "I don't understand! They knew there was something wrong, why didn't they—"

"Enough!"

Tress cut off, his shoulders slacking as his breath came in deep gasps. Squall's body remained barricaded against his emotions. The son watched father in despair and need. Tress had never heard his father mutter the words of appraisal or affection. Squall's attitude towards him made the boy wonder if his father pictured him only as a mistake, as something he wished shouldn't have ever been.

Looking around the little home gloomily, Tress noted the peeling wallpaper and the stained, wooden floorboards. Things had worsened since the fiends' assaults on civilization. Money was a dire need, and hard to come by. Both Tress' parents worked. All the boy could think was, and this is where their hard work has gotten us?

Shaking his head, he strode to the fridge. He grimaced at the nearly empty trays, reaching in to take out some cold eggs. Grabbing a fork from the drawer beside his father, Tress didn't glance at Squall before striding to sit at the table. Minutes passed as the boy ate, his father remaining motionless.

"I have to go to work," Squall told him levelly. Tress continued to eat his breakfast. An awkward moment stretched till at last Squall sighed, setting the mug down. Taking the keys from the table, he stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

Watching his father as the door closed, Tress' heart raced as he scrambled to the window. Pressing up against it, he watched the man stride down the path, getting into the car with another slam. As the engine started, Tress pounded against the window. Squall looked up at the noise, meeting his son's large, hazel eyes.

At that moment, the man thought about how much they looked alike. Tress had inherited Squall's hair color and flow, with his mother's narrow eyes. They held the same glossy appeal as Rinoa's as Tress stared back at his father. With a shake of his head, Tress watched him pull out of the driveway.

He never forgot what took place that night. Tress had been watching television when he heard a loud thud. He sat up at the noise, staring down the hallway at his parents' bedroom. After a silent moment he carefully slid off the couch, striding slowly around it to stand in the doorway. Tress' pulse quickened, as he waited.

"Mom?" he called, walking towards the wooden door slowly. There was no answer. "Mom?" he said more loudly, stopping beside it, putting his ear up against the structure. No sound came through.

Reaching his hand up, Tress slowly turned the knob. Releasing a deep breath, he let the door creak open. At first, as he strode in, Tress didn't see anything peculiar, but found the room fascinating. The doublewide bed rested against the far corner; the window lingering above the edge of the mattress, its curtains closed. Beside it stood a biro with a few scatter objects and picture frames. He strode to the biro, grimacing slightly at the pictures there. One captured his eye. Picking it up, Tress wipe the dust away to reveal a younger Squall and Rinoa standing with a group of others. He smiled at them, recognizing them by face.

When Tress was younger, about four or five, his parents' friends used to come and visit. But times grew hard, and travel became difficult. They received news through the following four years of their friends' recruitment into the Celestial Garden upon its opening. Squall had told his son about Garden, and how Tress' father was once trained and raised there to defeat the sorceresses.

A soft creak caused the boy to turn in surprise. Tress rushed over to his mother, lying on her side on the floor. Rolling over the unconscious body, Tress shook Rinoa, crying, "Mother? Mother!"

After a phone call and a trip to the hospital, Tress remembered feeling despaired at his mother's fragile body. He stood to one side of the bed, surveying his father as he sat close to Tress' mother. Squall rested his elbows on knees, shaking his head.

Ducking around behind the curtain, Tress released a deep breath. He froze at the sound of approaching footsteps, and the traces of squeaking reached the boy's ears. There were slight mutters and shuffling of papers.

At last Tress had heard, "Mr. Leonheart?" After a moment, the doctor continued as Tress peered around the curtain now, "It would seem your wife's case is worse than we thought." The boy frowned at the news, his body tensing.

"What happened?" asked Squall levelly. Tress remembered thinking how calm his father was, and how panicky he felt.

"There was a trace of a panic attack," the doctor told him a bit grimly. "The Lunar Revolver is a chronic disease that attacks body, mind, and spirit."

"You're telling me she's becoming one of those things?" snapped Squall lightly. With a grimace, the doctor nodded.

"That is the end result of the disease I'm afraid," he replied quietly. "There has yet to be found a cure. There was set up a Garden in space to train cadets to stop the fiends before they reach the planet."

The fiends, dropping from the moon since the incident with the sorceress Adel ten years before, traveled down to the earth. When they reached it, they'd bury themselves into the ground. Scientists confirmed that there was something in the chemicals the fiends brought with them that contaminated the soil. Despite their attempts to purify the food beforehand, the disease still leaked through. Celestial Garden was set up to teach their students how to combat the fiends in protective machines. Their field depended on their position and meka used.

Tress remembered his father getting into debates with his friends about the Garden and joining. Rumors of a colony being established in space caused much strife and rush on Earth. When at last one was built though, only a select few were privileged to move there. This created another riot.

Shaking his head at this, Tress no longer knew what to think. He remembered the last time his parents' friends came to visit. He had rushed out to meet them, but stopped at the sound of angry voices. Frozen in fear, the sound of approaching footsteps caused Tress to take refuge in the space between the door and wall. He remembered covering his ears, shutting his eyes as hard as he could, trying to force a headache upon himself so he couldn't focus on their shouting.

Tress shook his head of the images, their voices fading away as the doctor continued to explain about Celestial Garden. The boy had always pondered what life in space would be like. He dreamed that it was a life without worry or fighting. Tress was smarter than that however, and he knew it was possibly more risky up there then on Earth. He used to say whenever someone asked him what he wanted to go to school for, that he wanted to go to the Celestial Garden. His father greatly discouraged it, often times yelling at Tress for even suggesting it.

After an exchange of quiet words, Squall nodded as the doctor strode off. Tress watched his father with a new curiosity as he sat back down, sighing now in deep grief. Hs body began to shudder, and Tress watched in wonder and hurt himself at the sudden change sweeping over his father. The man he thought could never cry, could never shed one moment of despair for his family…sat there in torment over his wife.

Frowning, Tress took a step towards them, but then stopped, shaking his head. Every time he ventured close to his father, Squall just pushed his son back. Tress remembered sitting down behind the curtain with knees hunched to his chest. He didn't know when he dosed off, but he remembered waking in the car. Looking up hazily, he caught a glimpse of his father's face, pale and expressionless once more, before he collapsed again.

The next day was filled with silent grief. Tress was told his mother would remain the clinic for treatment. The first night without her Tress remembered the tears that wouldn't go away; the aching in his heart, not having the comfort of knowing she was there. Despite his pitiful attempts, Tress' cries echoed around him. Squall didn't approve of it. Said it showed an opening of weakness. His father told him that if he didn't learn to be something other than helpless, he'd never make it in the world.

"I'm only eight!" he'd used to yell at his father, tears filling his eyes again. Squall would end the topic with a casual scoff.

Rinoa would guide Tress to the bathroom to wash up; determined to stay out of the continuous father-and-son struggle. Tress could never get answers from his mother about his father's attitude, and soon gave up.

Tress remembered making a promise to himself that night he'd regret for the rest of his life…But I won't give up…

The following day they were driving, which Tress found rare. They hardly went anywhere, so he assumed they were visiting his mother. For what seemed the first time, Tress sat in the passenger seat. He stared out the window curiously, feeling that it was a different viewpoint, wondering if what he was seeing was the way grown ups saw things. It didn't seem that much different, though it did send a thrill through the youth.

Not looking at his father, Tress asked, "So why is it we're like this?" He tried to keep his voice simple, uninterested.

Fixated on the road, Squall asked, "Like what?"

Looking at him, Tress replied, "So distant. Mom never told me why you…" He drifted off as his father's voice cut in sharply.

"Stop talking foolishness." Tress frowned slightly.

Moderately discouraged, he commented in a softer tone, "But that's what I mean…" Squall's eyes passed over his son's expression for a moment, and hint of regret sparkled in his eyes before he turned to the road once more.

"You mean, why am I so hard on you, is that it?" Tress looked away, knowing his father would claim that he could be worse.

"I know," muttered the boy as Squall opened his mouth. "You're hard on me because I need it." That's what you always say, he thought grimly. Closing his mouth, it was another few moments before Tress noticed they hadn't taken the exit to the hospital. Looking up in surprise, he turned to his father. "Where are we going?" he asked, heart racing. Was he panicking? Had he been? When Tress thought back to that moment, he wasn't sure. "This isn't the way to the clinic," he added.

Squall eyed him, stating, "How would you know? You've only been there once since you were born."

"That was the turn back there," Tress said, swallowing, glancing out the window.

After another moment he heard his father say, "You're going to live with your grandfather."

Snapping to attention, Tress turned to the man angrily, saying, "Why do I have to do that! I'll be far away from Mom!"

"It's not your decision," Squall replied flatly.

"Well then, what about my stuff?" retorted Tress, searching his mind frantically for an excuse.

"I packed your clothes when you fell asleep," he replied.

"How can you just decide this! It's my choice!" Softly he added, "I don't understand." Lifting his eyes to his father, he asked, "You don't want me here, that's it, isn't it? Mom always tried to tell me that you really did care, but…" Sitting back Tress redirected his gaze to the armrest on the door. Squall's body tensed as he fought with himself.

"That's right," Squall told him numbly, nodding slightly.

Tress stared at his father in horror. He could feel the bitterness rising up in his chest, catching in his throat. His breath came in short gasps, and Tress' lower lip trembled. Squall closed his eyes for a moment as they came to a stop at the lights.

It's not true! Tress shook his head in disbelief.

"You're lying!" he shouted at his father.

Squall eyed his son, saying levelly, "You would think that…"

"You're my father!" Tress shouted. "You're the reason Mom's like this! If we had just gone with the others up to New Esthar—"

"Don't start with that!" Squall shouted at him. "Don't blame what's happening on me!"

"Why not! You were the one who let them get down here! Just so you could defeat some stupid sorceress!"

"You have no idea what I've done," he whispered, shaking his head.

"No, I don't!" shouted Tress. "Because you never let me know! I'm more than just a child!"

Turning to his son as he began to round the corner, Squall retorted, "You're not acting like—"

"Dad!"

Squall turned back, swerving as he attempted to move. It was too late. A car plowed by them, grazing sides. Squall fought to remain in control of the car as it went spinning across the highway and into the other lane. Tress held the seats tightly, struggling to stay still; head swarming and eyes shut. Images of his mother and father of the past couple days passed through his mind. The screeching became unbearable; the movement too much to take.

Tress' head hit something, and his body slumped. When at last the car stopped moving, his eyelids struggled to open. At last as they did, he fought to focus his eyesight. Tress caught a glimpse of his father, body slumped against the car door. Reaching towards the motionless man, Tress quietly called out for his father, stretching his fingertips against the restraining seatbelt for Squall's hand.

"Father…father…" His words turn to pleas as tears came to his eyes, his vision stirring; the edges darkening. There was a sudden motion before him, and relief swept over Tress as his Squall began to stir. The last thing he remembered was being shifted before he lost consciousness.

Whenever Tress thought back to what happened, his heart filled with grief. When he awoke three days later in a hospital bed, his mind drifted towards Squall.

"Father!" Sitting up with a jolt, the nurse beside him jumped. Tress looked around anxiously, his mind racing with what happened. "Where's my father!" he exclaimed to the frightened woman.

"D-Doctor," she stuttered as the nurse headed for the door.

A moment later the same man treating his mother arrived. Tress looked to his left, seeing the motionless Rinoa lying in the bed beside him. Turning to the doctor, Tress asked anxiously, "Where's my father? He was in the car, and wasn't looking when—" The boy drifted off at the despairing look on the aging man's face. "What happened?" demanded Tress, body beginning to tremble. Flashes of his body raced through his head. The motionless way he had laid there caught his breath.

"I'm afraid he didn't make it," the doctor told him quietly, holding tightly to his clipboard at Tress' widening eyes.

After a moment the boy told the man darkly, "You lie…"

"Please listen—"

"No!" shouted Tress. "You listen! I saw him! He was fine! He was moving!"

"Yes," the doctor replied, nodding his head. The nurse turned away at this. "He did awaken, and with few injuries I imagine, but…"

"But what!" demanded Tress at the pause. "If he wasn't hurt badly, then he should have been fine! He should be fine!" His hands tightened on the covers, gathering them in shaking fists.

The doctor looked almost thoughtful for a moment before replying, "After your car came to a stop, another also went out of control. We imagine he must have seen it coming towards you, because when his body was found, he laid half out of the passenger seat; the other half gone."

"What are you saying?" Tress asked quietly, his body trembling horribly now. "What happened to my father?" The brims of his eyes filled with waiting tears as he looked up.

Swallowing, the middle-aged man replied, "You were found in the backseat, Tress…they've clarified that he saw the car coming, and then unbuckled you, placing you in the back before it made contact."

Tress' jaw dropped, and after a moment he managed, "Y-Y-You mean…" His widened eyes were clogged with tears as he croaked, "That my father died to save me!" The doctor nodded in response. Tress stared at him in disbelief, slowly shaking his head as he sat back. "No!" he shouted finally. "You're wrong! You're lying! Why do you lie!"

The doctor had had to call the nurses in as he thrashed about. Finally after giving a drug was injected, Tress settled down. For the following few days he remained in that room, speaking to no one, just staring into the memory of his father's last moments. At last, after Tress had recovered enough, his grandfather was called, and arrived. Tress had been given his undamaged pack. The boy didn't touch anything in it, but only nodded. He strode out of the room fully dressed with a new pair of clothes, and into the waiting room. An aging man, around fifty stood staring out the window, hands tucked in his pockets. He dressed casually, his middle-back hair held in a down ponytail. At the sound of approaching footsteps the aging man turned to him. His face was kindly; lines having formed around the sides of his mouth. The right side of the man's face was shielded with a sway of bangs from where a pair of dark, friendly eyes shown.

"You must be Tress," he addressed the boy. Tress stood in the doorway, hand clasped to the pack strap on his shoulder; just watching this stranger. He didn't respond. After a few moments, the man shuffled his feet a bit as he told his grandson, "I guess you don't know who I am…"

"You're my grandfather," Tress told him flatly. The stranger looked up at this, nodding.

"So you have heard of me then."

"Not really," confessed the boy, watching the man blankly. "He never talked about you much."

"Oh," grimaced the man. After another moment he told Tress, "I'm here to take you back with me."

"Back?"

"To New Esthar." Tress narrowed his eyes at the man.

"Isn't that—"

"The space colony," his grandfather finished with a nod. "Celestial Garden is located right near it."

Tress remembered his mind racing at this. Squall had never mentioned where his father was. Tress had assumed at old Esthar, since he used to run it according to the deceased man. His eyes widened as realization dawned on the boy, lifting the dark pupils to his grandfather.

After another moment, Tress asked in disbelief, "My father was sending me to live in space then?" His grandfather nodded deeply.

"He figured that you could go to the Celestial Garden…if you wished to do so."

"But he always disagreed with it," Tress told him. He felt confused at this, shaking his head. "Why would he send me there now?"

"I suppose," the man began slowly, taking a couple steps forward. "It's because he thought it's what you wanted, even if he didn't agree with it. He wanted you to follow your dreams, and thought that since you weren't being forced into it, he'd let you go. I suppose what happened with your mother finally allowed him to make that decision."

"But why didn't he just tell me!" asked Tress softly. The kindly man knelt before his grandson. Tress kept his eyes focused on the stranger.

"Squall never was very open," grimaced the man. "I think he was trying to surprise you…" Tress looked away as tears drifted to his eyes. "My name is Laguna. You can call me what you wish."

After a moment the boy only nodded, and Laguna slowly straightened. Another moment passed before Tress asked, "Why haven't you aged from the pictures?"

Laguna looked down at his grandson with a smile, replying, "Due to the time it takes to travel to the colony, they were forced to find a way to extend human life. My aging has slowed a great deal."

"How long is the ride?" prompted the boy, turning to Laguna with a relaxed face.

"Takes twenty years to get there now," replied his grandfather. "I had directed its construction from Old Esthar. I was among the first to make the ride, but at that point it was only a three-year trip. Due to the on growing fiend count, the colony was moved further away. When we travel there, our bodies will be set in a frozen state so the trip won't take its toll on the passengers."

Tress grimaced, saying quietly, "My mother will get older." Looking to his grandfather, he asked, "Will she die in the time that I am away?"

Laguna met his grandson's eyes hesitantly. After a moment, he nodded grimly, replying, "Yes, she will." Tress stared back down the hallway in slight horror; eyes wide. He wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Laguna noted the tightened hand on his backpack strap. "Your father didn't want you here for it. He didn't want you to burden with her state of mind, nor her death."

"What about him then?" whispered Tress, hand shaking now, not looking at Laguna. The man noted the slight vibration in his voice. "Did he know he was going to die."

Shaking his head, Laguna replied quietly, "I don't know. I'm sure he didn't think it was now."

"Why didn't he get back there with me?" asked Tress quietly.

"There wasn't enough room nor time for the pair of you to get through the space in time."

"So he chose my life over his…" Laguna grimaced at this, watching his grandson's stiff posture. The man looked up in surprise at the light scoff as Tress added, "And here I thought he didn't care…"

Laguna frowned for a moment before telling the boy softly, "Squall has always cared. He just doesn't like people getting close."

"Didn't…you mean." Laguna closed his eyes, breathing becoming slightly heavy at the reminder. Another moment passed before Tress asked, "What's it like up there?"

"There are problems," Laguna began slowly. "But no one worries about the Lunar Revolver there."

"No suffering because of it, right?"

"Right."

Another few moments passed before Tress turned to his grandfather slowly, saying with a slight nod, "All right, I'll come with you."