Prologue 1: Persistence of Memory
He dreamt, and his nightmares brought him things too horrible to contemplate.
He dreamt of Balamb Garden, overrun by an antique attack force called The Storm. They fell from the sky like raindrops, descending on his Garden in unstoppable waves. No matter how hard the SeeDs fought, they found themselves pressed back, victims of an enemy that ceased to exist twenty years ago.
He dreamt of fighting through the halls, watching the once serene Garden transform into a war zone, every inch contested and inevitably conquered by The Storm. Ultimately, Squall ordered the evacuation of Garden, fleeing with whatever troops he could save, abandoning the rest to their fates.
He dreamt of the enormous dragon-ship, identical in every way to the Ragnarok, but piloted with murderous intent. The black-and-red ship roared through the peaceful sky, claiming the life of a trainload of junior cadets.
He dreamt of death, dishonor, betrayal, cowardice, and failure. Always, behind it all, underscoring his nightmare, he heard the laughter. The laughter that he knew would never leave his ears -- an insane, mocking sound that would haunt him forever.
The face came next, its burning eye drilling a hole into him. The face smiled at him, grinning madly.
"More blood," it promised him. "More."
In that eye, Squall saw Balamb Garden – his Garden – and everyone and everything he'd left behind. And he saw it all burn.
* *
Squall awoke with a start. Disoriented and in an unfamiliar setting, he started casting about, trying to get his bearings.
"It's okay," came Rinoa's soft voice. "You're safe."
He felt her hand on his head, stroking his hair, and slowly started to regain his senses. He'd fallen asleep on kneeling on the floor of the Ragnarok, with his head resting in her lap. As reason and memory came flooding back to him, he wished he could remain in blissful ignorance.
"It's all real, isn't it?" he asked. "It really happened."
"Yeah," she replied, her voice choked. "It did."
Prologue 2: Poor Wandering One
Laguna looked up from the documents in front of him as Kiros pressed his way into the office.
"People usually make a pretense of knocking, Kiros," Laguna said.
"No time," Kiros answered, moving quickly towards Laguna's desk. "I just received a distress call from the Ragnarok."
"What?" Laguna asked, level of concern skyrocketing. "What does it say?"
Kiros pressed the paper into Laguna's hand.
"Balamb Garden taken by hostiles," it read. "Request asylum."
"That's it?" Laguna inquired, looking up. "They didn't say anything else?"
"The ship transmitted it over an encrypted channel, along with a tremendous amount of noise. Whatever's going on, they didn't want anyone to know where they were headed."
"That sounds like Squall," Laguna said, thinking aloud. "No one else would have bothered to smother the message with noise, but Squall would rather risk us losing the message than have it be intercepted."
"I'll have the airstation prepare for their arrival. You want me to get your car ready, so you can meet them yourself?"
Laguna nodded distractedly, worrying at the wedding band he wore. "Have a medical team on hand, too. To attend to any injuries."
Kiros nodded and left the room, giving Laguna a chance to say a brief prayer.
"Raine," he said, whispering, eyes closed. "Wherever you are, I hope you're keeping our boy safe."
* *
The Ragnarok touched down in the Esthar Airstation, and in short order Squall exited the ship, alone, to speak to Laguna.
Laguna, flanked by Kiros and Ward, immediately noticed the difference in Squall. His normally rigid, military demeanor had vanished. He slumped, shrank in on himself, walked with an unsteady step. Nevertheless, he had no visible injuries, and a relieved Laguna dashed forward to sweep him up in a hug.
"I'm so glad you're all right," said Laguna.
"I've been better," Squall replied.
Laguna stepped back and said, "You're here now. What can I do to help?"
Squall tried to muster some strength for the retelling of the day's events. "Earlier today, Balamb Garden was invaded and overtaken. We had to flee. Those of us aboard the Ragnarok are the only known escapees. Everyone else is either dead or captured. I'm here to request shelter, at least until we figure out where else we can go."
"Laguna..." Kiros said, placing his hand on the President's arm.
"Done," Laguna said, overriding whatever warning Kiros almost issued. "You and your friends are welcome to stay at the palace, and we'll make accommodations for the rest of your troops in the army barracks. You can sleep off whatever happened, and we'll discuss the rest when you're ready."
"Thank you," Squall said, breathing a deep sigh of relief. "Thank you."
Prologue 3: Tomorrow Belongs to Me
He sat in perfect silence, eye closed. Balamb Garden – the entire Garden – belonged to him now, and he reveled in it. Slowly, he opened his one eye, looking around the room, the office formerly occupied by Squall Leonhart, Seed Commander.
His hand brushed over the surface of Squall's desk with something akin to reverence. He could feel the power in this room, the energy that Squall exuded. Squall had shown himself a worthy opponent, fighting to the last. Crushing Leonhart would prove enjoyable.
General Mallis – onetime Garden Master, now dictator of Balamb Garden – stood, polished black armor moving fluidly with him. He descended to the lobby like a god come to walk among his people.
The prisoners his troops had taken knelt before him. He'd given the order to force the prisoners to kneel shortly after the fighting ceased. At first, the order seemed odd to his troops, but within hours, the horrible, searing pain set in, and the prisoners started begging to move. They knelt throughout the night, and into the morning, and anyone who moved, or passed out from the pain received a savage beating.
Now, Mallis, the traitor in their midst, stood before them. "You may cease kneeling," he said waiting for a moment while his prisoners – subjects, he corrected himself – shifted to a sitting position.
"It should be clear by now that you have been abandoned. Leonhart has deserted you. You are forgotten. Presumed dead. You are mine now. Those of you who obey me will find your lives made much easier. Those who resist me will find their punishments infinitely harsh. You may now resume kneeling until noontime, when you will each be given a half-ration of food. That is all."
Mallis slowly scanned the room again, watching in sadistic glee as the prisoners struggled to stay on their knees. He picked out faces from the crowd, scattered individuals. Doctor Kadowaki. Workers from the cafeteria. Then his eyes lit on a silver-haired woman wearing an eye patch.
"You," he said, pointing at her from the steps. "You." He took the steps two at a time, shoving people aside to get to her. "On your feet." She stood slowly, unsteadily, but the venom in her eye as she looked at him never wavered. "You are Fujin, correct?"
She stared at him, unblinking.
"Answer me!" he screamed.
She continued to stare, refusing to answer.
"Answer, damn you!" He lashed out, backhanding her across the face, sending her sprawling. "Stand her up!" he snapped to the guards. They rushed over to her, reaching down to help her up.
As they did, Fujin grabbed at one, pulling him forward with all his weight and crashing him into his partner. They fell, unconscious, to the floor. She stood up, of her own accord, staring again at Mallis, who smiled at her, the smile of a predator. Both seemed oblivious to the presence of the other guards, all with their guns trained on Fujin.
"Nicely done," Mallis said. "I think you'll want to talk to me, though," he said, closing on her. "You see," he whispered, directly in her ear. "I know how you lost your eye."
Fujin's hatred turned to suspicion. She clearly didn't trust the man, but somehow, he'd touched on the biggest mystery in her life: the question of her missing eye.
"What do you think of me now?" he grinned, standing back, arms folded across his chest.
Fujin slowly wiped the blood away from the corner of her mouth. "PSYCHOTIC."
Prologue 4: Epiphany
Squall sat at one end of a conference table, waiting for Laguna to arrive. At Laguna's request, he'd brought Quistis, Seifer, Irvine, Selphie, Zell, Nida, and Xu. Still numb from the shock of Garden's conquest, they sat in silence. After several minutes, Seifer dared break the quiet.
"We... have some good news for you, Squall," he said. "Do you want to tell him, Selphie?"
A full thirty seconds passed before the brunette even registered the question. Her eyes flickered upward briefly, and she shrugged, the gesture barely perceptible. Seeing the death of the junior cadets had taken an especially heavy toll on her. She and Raijin had escaped the train mere moments before Mallis destroyed it, and the resulting guilt reduced her to a state of near-catatonia.
"Well," Seifer said, seeing that Selphie wouldn't answer, "it's a little something that Selphie, Xu, and I cooked up, in case some unforeseen circumstance ever cropped up. Like this one."
Squall nodded, weary.
"Remember the security matrix that I had brought aboard the Ragnarok when we evacuated?"
"Sure," Squall answered, remembering the black box Seifer had handcuffed to an aid.
"We built in a little something special back at Garden. At the start of every week, I'd decide on a new passcode and enter it into the security station. Now, if the passcode isn't changed once a week, the security station automatically broadcasts all of its data to the security matrix."
Squall sat upright, suddenly interested. "Which we possess."
"Exactly."
"What sort of information do we get access to?"
"We get full records of which doors are used and when. If any specific areas of the building are under lockdown. Elevator usage. Things like that. It's not much, but I'm sure with a top intelligence agent," here, Seifer leaned across the table to squeeze Selphie's hand – again, she barely reacted – "we can make use of it."
"What about the security cameras, can we get access to those?"
"No," Seifer said, pursing his lips thoughtfully. That requires a direct feed into the security mainframe, and I didn't have a chance to open one before we evacuated. Even if we had one, it wouldn't be all-encompassing. Security cameras only cover the more public areas of Garden. The offices don't have them, the dorm rooms don't have them..."
"Well, we can use what we have."
"And what do we do in the present?" Quistis asked. "I mean, not only are we personally homeless, but we're homeless and responsible for the well-being of everyone we escaped with. I'm sure some of them have families, but plenty were orphans like us. What do we do about them?"
"That's what we're here to find out," Squall said.
The door opened and Laguna entered, flanked by Kiros and Ward. As they walked the length of the room, Laguna gently put his hand on Selphie's shoulder. She smiled briefly, and then the smile faded as he walked away. The three men took their places, with Laguna at the head of the table and Kiros at his right hand. Ward, as usual, preferred to stand in a corner of the room.
Laguna took a long look around the room. He could see the strain on the faces of the people gathered before him. His son's friends – his son's family, and, by extension, his own family. People for whom he'd come to care. He wanted to say something, anything, to ease their pain, but he knew no words could calm their minds. To business, then.
"Okay, guys, I can see you're in no mood for small talk, so why don't we just get right to the point," he said. "Start by giving me a rundown of what happened."
"Basically," Squall said, "it's what I told you the other day. Garden was attacked and overrun, we were forced to flee, and the people you are now sheltering are all that managed to escape. I held two significant details back, however.
First, the force that attacked us. Nida managed to identify them as something called The Storm. Sound familiar?"
Laguna, Kiros, and Ward, all looked dumbfounded.
"That's impossible," Kiros said. "The Storm was Adel's invasion force. Key word: Adel's. It's been defunct for twenty years."
"Explain this, then," Squall replied, tapping a few buttons on the panel in front of him. Images popped up on the panels in front of everyone – one of the massive dropships that had delivered The Storm to Balamb Garden, and the other of soldiers dressed in midnight blue armor from Adel's empire.
"That's The Storm, all right," Kiros answered, "but..."
"These are images from the invasion of Balamb Garden. They're less than a week old."
"It's impossible," Kiros repeated, whispering.
"The other thing is this," Squall continued, calling up the next image: the Apocalypse, sister-ship to the Ragnarok, painted black and red. "Do you recognize it?"
"Of course!" Laguna exclaimed. "It's one of ours! But ours were all red, like the Ragnarok."
"It's the Apocalypse," Squall continued. "Any idea how someone would get one of your ships?"
"You did," Kiros said.
Squall ignored the remark. "Somehow, our Garden Master had this antique Esthar technology and one of your ships. And when I asked him why he was attacking Garden, he said, 'sins of the father.'" Squall turned to Laguna. "Does that mean anything to you?"
"No," Laguna replied. "Anytime I ever dealt with SeeD, it was through you. Once or twice through Cid, but almost always through you."
"I thought so."
"So who is this Garden Master?" Kiros asked.
"His name is General Yvaine Mallis. All we know about him is that he started out in the military -- but we don't know where -- and then he ran a mercenary organization called Omega Dawn. This is his picture."
Squall called up a picture from the Ragnarok's databanks – a snapshot taken during ship-to-ship communication.
Laguna and Kiros peered intently at the picture.
"Well," Squall asked, "do you recognize him?"
Both men shook their heads slowly as they continued to gaze at the picture, as if he seemed familiar, but they couldn't place him. Ward, however, made a sound deep in his throat, and walked quickly over to where Laguna sat.
Quickly moving Laguna out of the way, Ward started pressing buttons on the panel, his enormous fingers seeming almost too large for the keys. Still, they proved surprisingly dexterous, and in moments, another picture appeared next to Mallis'.
The face seemed remarkably different – twenty years younger, covered in ritualistic scars, no hair on the head. The facial structure seemed different, too. Squall tried to imagine the effects of time and reconstructive surgery. But still, he could see the madness blazing in that lone eye, and he knew he looked at the same man.
"So who was this guy?" he asked.
Kiros, Laguna, and Ward all shared a concerned look, before Laguna started to tell the tale.
"Have you ever heard of Justinian Varrant?"
"Should we have?" Squall replied.
* *
"The story of your missing eye begins almost twenty years ago," Mallis said, seated regally in Squall's chair, behind Squall's desk, in Squall's office. Fujin stared at the man, trying to gauge the distance, assessing whether she could successfully attack him from where she sat, handcuffed, on the other side of the desk. "It begins during the reign of the Sorceress Adel, the wisest and most powerful ruler the world has ever known..."
In one clean motion, Fujin leapt to her feet, jumping atop the desk. With her hands still in restraints, she could do nothing but lash outward at Mallis, her booted foot kicking straight forward in a snap kick that should have shattered his jaw.
The kick never connected.
Moving like a blur, one of Mallis' hands shot up to grab Fujin's foot, stopping it from moving towards him. He proceeded to squeeze her ankle, and Fujin felt his powerful grip cutting off the circulation. "I wouldn't advise trying that again," he said. "Next time, I'll have to hurt you." He shoved her backwards, in a casual gesture, giving her no more thought then he would to brushing off a fly. The force of his push carried her off the desk and dumped her unceremoniously on the floor.
"As I was saying," he continued, ignoring Fujin as she stood up and took her seat, "Adel was the wisest and most powerful ruler in the world and I was..."
* *
"Justinian Varrant," Laguna said, "the man you know as Garden Master Mallis, was Adel's Captain of the Guard."
"That's putting it mildly," Kiros added. "He was her hatchet man, her spymaster, her assassin. He expanded the Royal Guard into a secret police force. They could go anywhere, do anything – accuse citizens of crimes and throw them in jail without benefit of charge or trial. Interrogate them for days on end. Manufacture evidence. You name it – if it was unethical and inhumane, they had a hand in it, and Varrant was the worst of the lot."
Laguna turned to Squall. "He was the one who organized the mission to kidnap Ellone."
"So what happened to him?" Zell, who'd never trusted "Mallis," asked. "How'd he wind up our Garden Master?"
* *
"And I served her loyally and faithfully," Mallis said, eye fixed on an invisible point over Fujin's shoulder, as if he could still see Adel. "Until he came along."
"HE?"
"Laguna Loire. The man who took my Empress from me. The man who overthrew Adel."
* *
"When we fought to bring down Adel, naturally, we had to go through Varrant – Mallis, sorry – to get to her," Laguna said. "And he didn't go down without a fight."
"So he attacked us to get back at you?" Zell asked. "Delayed reaction."
"There's more," Laguna added. "He was more than the Captain of the Guard. He was Knight to the Sorceress Adel."
* *
"For seventeen years I had to listen to the tortured screams of my queen as she writhed, entombed in space," Mallis said, "all so that buffoon Loire could place himself upon the throne. What does he know of leadership? What does he know about greatness? And then his bastard child comes along and frees my Sorceress, only to kill her. Now, she doesn't speak to me at all. Not even in my dreams."
"BORED. EYE. NOW."
"Of course, my dear," Mallis said, attention snapping back to Fujin. "You see, the Sorceress Adel felt it was crucially important to test the loyalty of those around her. I, as her Knight, was not exempt. Quite the opposite.
"I remember kneeling before her on the day. She sat high and proud on her throne, as always, looking down at me. I outranked everyone else in Esthar, could have had anyone I wanted killed or tortured at my tiniest whim, and yet each time the Empress summoned me, I trembled with fear.
"'My Knight,' she said, 'I want you to prove your devotion to me.' Here, a servant came forth with a velvet pillow bearing a dagger made of blackest obsidian. 'Put out your eye,' she commanded.'"
"AND?" Fujin pressed.
Mallis pointed to an empty eye socket.
"I did as she asked. And she laughed. The sound was like music, filling the room. Next, a servant brought forth an infant, still in swaddling clothes. As the blood poured down my face, my Sorceress demanded that I put out the eye of this tiny child."
"ME." Fujin whispered.
"You," Mallis confirmed, smiling. "My daughter."
Prologue 5: The New World
"Okay," Squall said, "for now, this changes nothing. Our immediate goals are still the same: to find a base of operations. We'll worry about this new information later."
Laguna turned and nodded to Kiros, who spoke for the Esthar delegation. "We – as representatives of the Esthar government – are prepared to offer you refugee status and political asylum here in Esthar. However, we reserve the right to revoke this status at anytime if we feel it is becoming dangerous to the country. We may revoke the right of asylum either as it applies to an individual, or to SeeD as a whole, understood?"
"That seems fair enough," Squall replied.
"Obviously," Kiros continued, "you can't take any missions which place you in a position to harm Esthar or any of its citizens."
"Understood, but you don't get the right to approve our contracts in advance. You'll have to accept it on faith."
Kiros thought for a long moment and then let out a sharp exclamation of pain as Laguna kicked him under the table. "Fine. But I want you to understand that you are now officially subject to the laws of Esthar. You're in our jurisdiction. One of your people breaks the rules, and we mete out punishment."
Squall frowned. "That flies in the face of the entire Garden system. We've always dealt with such matters internally, and no country has ever had a problem with it before."
"Yes," Kiros nodded. "But that was when you had a Garden. Now, you're entirely dependent on us. We're according you refugee status, we're offering you shelter, we're taking the risks to protect you from someone who's potentially a very dangerous threat to the stability of our government, so you're hardly in a position to dictate terms."
Squall shook his head. "Granted." He heard the gasps of surprise from his friends, and knew that he had to focus on the larger picture: securing the safety of the escaped SeeDs. "We'll accept your terms, gratefully."
"I have a better idea," Laguna said, voice distant, speaking as if from the sidelines.
"Laguna..." Kiros said, and edge of warning in his voice.
"I think we can find a better compromise," Laguna continued. "One that gives you a place to stay, lets you keep your independence, and will give you a base of operations."
"Laguna, can I borrow you for a minute?" Kiros asked, standing up and grabbing Laguna by the arm. Along with Ward, the two men left the room hurriedly.
"Problem, Kiros?" Laguna said sweetly once the door had closed behind them.
"Damn right, there's a problem. I hate it when you sandbag me like this. We could at least discuss these things in advance."
"I'm the President. We don't have to discuss them at all."
"Look," Kiros said, "I just question the wisdom of having our country – and you in particular – getting politically entangled with these refugees, who, by the way, happen to be the sworn enemies of Justinian-freaking-Varrant!"
"No matter how you slice it, we're entangled, just by the fact that Squall's my son. You heard what Varrant told him: 'sins of the father.' If we do things my way, we'll give Squall and his SeeDs a chance to build up their strength again, and they can get rid of Varrant," Laguna explained
Ward frowned, stroking his chin reflectively.
"The big guy has a good point," Kiros said. "What makes you so sure they can bring Varrant down? He routed them last time. And if he has access to The Storm's gear, and the Apocalypse, there's no telling what sort of resources he has at his disposal."
"He had the advantage of surprise last time: the next time, they'll be prepared. And they'll be fighting for their home, and for the freedom of all their friends who are trapped there. Trust me. It'll work."
I hope, he added, silently.
Kiros turned to look at Ward, who nodded his assent. Kiros turned back. "Okay, chief. You've sold us. Just, in the future, try to refrain from these little surprises."
They re-entered the conference room, and resumed their original positions.
"Sorry for the interruption," Laguna said. "Emergency strategy session."
"Understandable," Squall said.
"As I mentioned, I think there's a solution which can mutually benefit both our groups. There are, of course, certain conditions attached, but I think you'll find the end result quite satisfactory."
Laguna punched a button and the large display screen at the head of the room slid down, displaying a vast expanse of the barren plain that made up the continent of Esthar. He paused in childlike glee, trying to convey the cool air of a magician demonstrating that he had nothing up his sleeve. He pressed another button and the ground and sky started to ripple, distorted as if by an intense heat mirage. One by one, the miraculous panels that made up Esthar's camouflage system switched off, revealing a sprawling campus, a marvel of glass and steel.
"We're calling it," Laguna paused for dramatic effect, "Esthar Garden."
Squall immediately sat up and took notice. "The catch?"
"Minor," Laguna replied. "Esthar Garden is yours. You operate under the same rules as any other Garden, with one exception: you train our special forces as well. Military, intelligence, that sort of thing. While they're at your Garden, they're yours to command. We maintain very high standards and a very small force, so it won't be an overwhelming number to deal with. Does that sound like you can handle it?"
Squall turned to consult with his team. Meeting with nothing but nods of approval, including a weak smile from Selphie, he turned back to Laguna.
"Yes. Thank you."
"Excellent," Laguna said. "I can take you on a tour of the facilities now, if you'd like."
As people filtered out of the room, Squall approached Laguna and asked, "Laguna, I was wondering if... I... could ask you a personal favor?"
"Sure," Laguna shot back, grinning. "Because you haven't dipped into the favor bank at all today."
"No," Squall said. "This is... personal."
"Relax," Laguna said, putting his hand on Squall's arm. Thinking better of it, he removed his hand, and said, "What can I do for you?"
"I was wondering if there was some job you could find for Rinoa? Back at Garden – Balamb Garden – I mean, she was a tutor, but I was wondering if you might have something here that's a little more suited to her. Preferably something that we can use as a way to keep her safe if things with Mallis blow up."
"Tell you what," Laguna replied. "Now that the Galbadia has become the Galbadian Republic – or whatever their flavor of the month is, we'll have to restructure the embassy. I can probably find work for her in the diplomatic corps, which would grant her consular immunity all around. Sound good?"
"That would be great," Squall said. "Thanks again."
"No problem," Laguna said as they exited in to the hallway, where the entire group awaited them. "Okay, gang, you all ready to see Esthar Garden? Don't you just love saying that?" he asked, launching into one of his monologues. Squall could see that Laguna had stored up enough air in his lungs to talk for at least fifteen minutes solid before he had to take a breath. "Say it with me. Esthar Garden. Don't roll your eyes at me, Squall. You know, I originally wanted to call it the 'Laguna Loire Memorial Garden, but then Kiros told me that in order to have the word 'Memorial' in there, I had to be dead, but he'd be willing to arrange it! Can you believe that? So anyway... where was I?"