Summary: Legend [aka Zed] is still mourning the loss of his daughter when he receives a phone call that will eventually lead him toward some painful, but perhaps necessary closure. Warnings for mention of a child's death.

Usual disclaimer: Don't own anything but my OCs, Squeenix owns all. This work is written for fun and not profit.


"Zed. They found her."

He knew right away, of course, who the caller meant. Her. Laurelei. His daughter. His sun, moon and stars, his reason for being; she was the tiny little axis upon which his world turned. He would have moved heaven and earth for her, and damned if he didn't try.

"I'll be right there," he murmured, mind submerging into a sudden mental fog. It was the same sort of unreal fog that had descended upon him that day amidst all the smoke, the fire, the screaming.

Screaming, followed by a deadly eerie quiet as the voices fell silent. He'd been burned by the blast as well, not badly; somehow his hair had caught on fire from a burning ember that sailed straight for him, but he'd quickly put out the fire before it spread all over his body. First degree burns were no match for the pain he'd eventually feel when he found her shoe. One single shoe, her favorite little red Mary Janes. Its mate was missing, perhaps forever; and its owner….

Zed had never found his daughter's body following the blast, but today, today he would. Weeks later, he knew she would be unrecognizable. Not the way he'd want to remember his little girl. But he had to see her, he owed at least this much to her; Zed felt he'd failed her utterly as a father. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, but it all seemed so damned clear now. She shouldn't have been there; if only he'd made other arrangements, she wouldn't have been at the reactor. She wouldn't have been near the blast, and she wouldn't have been killed.

If only. If only. If only. It was a refrain that played over and over again inside his head every day since he'd lost her.

He went right away to the morgue at Midgar General – lucky, Zed supposed, that he was still in the city and not back in his apartment in Junon, or the bungalow in Costa. If anything about this could be construed as lucky.

The coroner greeted him somberly, and pulled the tray out, a white sheet draped over the tiny body. Zed felt something inside of him break and crumble even before the sheet was drawn down, but he bit his lip, trying to steel himself trying to be strong, for her. It had all been for her, every bit of it, and now?

Now she lay on a slab in the morgue, as cold and as still as alabaster, her eyes closed in perpetual slumber. Zed murmured a quiet thank-you to the medical examiner who had brought him a chair; he was grateful for it now as he felt all strength leave his legs.

He nodded, knowing the question would come. "Yes, it's her. I'm her father." He stood, leaning over Laurelei's corpse; the skin was burned here and there, though not severely; her limbs seemed strangely bent, and there was a large contusion on her forehead.

"Cause of death was blunt force trauma," read the coroner's report. "The deceased was found near a concrete pylon; forensics shows she was thrown against this pylon, likely as a result of the blast."

Zed could picture the scenario; her little body sailing through the air, sandy blonde curls flying out behind her. How terrified must she have been? Was she crying out for her daddy as she died?

"You're with your mama now, baby girl," Zed whispered, leaning down and kissing Laurelei's forehead. So cold, so not her. The lively child she had been was gone now, her spirit returned to the Lifestream, and now Roxanne would take care of her. Laurelei didn't need her daddy anymore.

The coroner was now asking Zed about arrangements, a thing he'd never thought he'd have to think about – nobody ever thinks they'll have to bury their child, but the answer came to him suddenly and clearly. He would have her cremated, and he'd sprinkle her ashes into the sea, along the beach in Costa. Their favorite place in the world, a place as yet untouched by conflict.

He returned back home to his place in Junon later that night, that feeling of finality closing around him like an iron curtain. Exhausted, Zed passed by Laurelei's room on his way to the master bedroom; the door was ajar, and he meant to just shut it and go straightaway to bed after such a day.

But something drew him in, and he entered her room, flipping on the overhead light. The walls were cheerily decorated with the sun, moon, and stars, mobiles of the planets hanging from the ceiling, reflecting his little girl's interest in astronomy and the universe.

Zed sat down cross-legged in the center of the room, fingers brushing over the plush ivory carpeting, and he began to cry.