Reversal Effect
By Malinn
How could this of happened, out of every possible outcome, just why was he here of all places? A fool he was to believe the spouted lies, for that was all it was; a string of fibs tied with fibers of hate and cruelty. This punishment would not be a fate he would wish upon the worst of enemies', no one deserving this.
Each breath created only a painful rattle in his chest, blood the only form of moisture gracing parched lips. The furred leather coat was lost long ago, unable to bear the heat from the nonexistent sun. All around, sandy dunes rose, mimicking ocean waves; what he would not do to see such a beauty again. To feel the cool soothing refreshment enter his broken form, but dreams could never come true. Miracles had ceased to exist for him all too long ago.
At first removing the remainder of the heavy, heat-encasing garments seemed to be a feasible option. That was quickly squandered, bare feet scalding the moment they met the burning earth. He would die in this barren wasteland, now there was little doubt in his mind, hope impossible to even fathom.
Misty eyes, half-lidded, studied the blurring terrain ahead, 'It will… never end…' If he abandoned his precious weapon, the trudge would be less strenuous on his aching body, but to dispose of the only thing that had kept him breathing for years now just did not compute. Could it be possible his only source of comfort and fight would be his utter downfall?
The abused joints slowly began to lock in place, his burning eyes falling shut more often than not. 'Maybe… short… rest…' Though logic warned him against such actions, knowing full well that if he were to lie down at this very moment, he would never return to walking the endless desert. Even with the numerous people relying on him, the fact his world would no longer exist if he stopped did not reach his weary self.
Letting his body collapse, he ignored the harsh sand grinding into his cheek. It meant nothing after all, consciousness already fading. '…rest.'
His breathing slowed, the ragged gasps turned whispers, hands running over his still form unknown to the weary one. What purpose the shadows held, the soldier within him was clueless. '…sleep…'
Dainty shoes, small white flowers adorned upon the buckles, skipped merrily. The smiling child, content to hop along the worn path through the field of flowers, was attempting to search for her sibling. The older boy would sometimes give in to her wayward actions, playing a game on occasion. Humming a little tune, her blue sundress billowing, she enjoyed the day, not watching her step.
As the tender foot caught on the unmoving object, she jumped, staring wide-eyed. The little shriek at the realization as to what precisely she had stumbled upon brought her mother from the house.
"…Ell, dear what is wrong," Raine called from the steps, her meticulous gaze narrowing at the distraught little girl.
Ellone's lip trembled, tears filling her eyes, "Mommy! Mommy!! Squall!!"
The woman's eyes widened, hurrying down the steps, 'Hyne… not again… please…' Rushing to the small child's side, Raine fell to her knees at her son's side.
Fresh bruises, scrapes and cuts adorned the teenager's body, skin pasty, body wracked with tremors. The loose-fitting jeans and white t-shirt were caked with both blood and dirt, stained beyond recognition. Jaw slack, his breathing was labored, the boy in distress.
"…Oh gods, Squall… come on baby… wake up…" Her soft hands cupped her son's cheek, petting it gently. Grey eyes never left the unmoving form, though she directed her youngest, "Fetch you father, brother, anybody Ell. Go quickly!"
It took the girl a moment to gather herself, scattering off as fast as she could, "Dad! DAD!"
Laguna's brow furrowed at the sound of muffled screams, shaking it off. "…must be hearing things…" he muttered under his breath. Tucking the stray lock of hair behind his ear for what must have been the umpteenth time, he returned to his paperwork.
The door slammed open, Laguna jumping at the sound, wondering for a moment if the knob had left a decent sized hole in its wake. "…what… in the world?"
"DAD! Squall! Hurt!" There was a pause after each yell, the girl's mussed hair sticking out every which way, panting.
Honestly sometimes you had to wonder if the President was actually a blond, the length of time it took him to compute her screams leaning towards extreme. "…Wh-what?"
Ellone almost tackled her father, tugging harshly at the man's shirt, "Daddy! Brother's hurt!" The tears continued to trek down her cheeks, "Pl-please daddy!" It was not necessary for her to pull at the man any longer, already on his feet, lifting the smaller body into his arms.
"Where?? Outside?"
The small child nodded, "…fl-flowers…"
"…shh baby, it's alright… wake up now…" Raine continued to whisper comforting words to the boy, finally receiving a soft moan in response. 'Oh… thank goodness… come on sweetie...' She glanced about, her worry only increasing at the lack of support.
This was not the first time the teen had ended up in such a condition, though to this extreme, that was a different story. Petting the boy's tangled hair, she cooed pleasant sounds, 'Laguna… hurry up…' Getting the injured out of the hot sun was a priority, and carrying another that was nigh an inch taller the long distance back to the house was not an option for her.
Rushing to his wife's side, the President did not even take a second to truly assess the situation, passing the small shaking form over. Scooping up his son, the family rushed to the house, finally taking in the condition of his younger within the confines of the boy's room. "…dammit."
"…watch your tongue," Even in the circumstances, cursing in front of Ellone was not an option, the girl tended to absorb everything around her in a sponge-esque fashion, especially new words.
Wetting a clean cloth, Raine gingerly began to remove the dirt from the abused body, "…get some bandages and more water…" she mumbled softly, focusing on her task.
'Cool… cold… wet…' Squall's mind began to process the world around him in a painstakingly slow fashion, only grasping feelings at first. Turning his head to the side so to feel more of whatever was chilling his burnt cheeks, he slowly found the energy to crack an eye open.
A haze of color, bright and daze blurring into one mass, barely distinguishable at first, but as each moment passed, shapes began to take form. The light steadily became less blinding, the dark blurs shifting into a recognizable form. At first, he felt comfort from the woman's hands, unsure of precisely why. Though after a few minutes passed, something clicked. 'Dead… Mother… Raine… I… am dead…' He was unable to keep the worry to himself, chapped lips parting, "…d-ead… m-me?"
Laguna rubbed his temples, the string of curses kept silent, letting them stew within. 'Not again…' The boy had never been quite right, at least memory-wise. Odine had given a diagnosis several years ago, but still to this day it did not quite make sense. It had something to do with how the brain computed short-term memory to long-term, and a rambling about misconceptions and this weird sort of amnesia…
"…you're just fine kiddo…" 'Least… I think you are…'
The smile of happiness faded as quickly as it had risen, 'No…no no… my poor baby…' Her lips thinned, continuing to clean the boy's face, "Squall, honey, its okay." She could feel the curious and worried emotions rolling of her daughter, whose dark head would occasionally peek through the door. She would have to assure later of her brother's safety after she was sure he was really alright.
"Squall, what happened dear?"
'Wait… wait… no... Dead... I have to be…' Squall shook his head gingerly, feeling that something was more off that it appeared. There was no possible way for him to be alive and to see his mother was there? "…You…. Are… dead." Right?
Raine's eyebrows shot up, "No! No Squall, I'm very much alive, what happened? Can you remember sweetie?"
Squall could not help but stare openly at the woman; she had to be his mother. After all the dreams of Laguna's memories, there was just no possible way she wasn't. But if he wasn't dead, and she was not a ghost, and the desert, where had the sandy hell gone?! The array of questions was already making his throbbing skull ache thrice fold.
Wait. 'Time… Compression… the… desert… but…' Could different worlds, realities truly exist with the journey through time, the impossible become probable? 'Dream…' It was the only logical solution; this was all simply a pleasant dream starring the image of the woman from the memories. 'At… least, it is no… nightmare.'