Laguna Loire stood by the glass window that separated his office and the stillness of space. He could see the glowing lights of the city of Esthar below, still visible even from this altitude. A beautiful city, Esthar, and even after almost seventeen years, it still could take his breath away.
But Winhill was always there at the corner of his mind – the quaint, sleepy village that had given him so much.
Restless, Laguna leant forward, both palms of his hands resting on the glass, peering towards the pinpoints of lights in the darkness, at the moon. He was supposed to go to the sealing facility tomorrow, for one of those official visits to make sure that everything was okay and under control. In reality, Laguna wasn't all that sure what he was checking – the state-of-the-art technology employed by the scientist simply stumped him, and he couldn't make much sense of Kiros's explanations either.
Show off, he thought wryly, not sure whether he meant Kiros or the scientists, and the thought flitted away from his mind as fast as it came. He was too preoccupied to notice.
His mind wasn't really the space station, or Adel, or the prison. Esthar, with its closed-door policy, was safe enough, as safe as it ever could be. It was other things that were occupying Laguna's thoughts, things that Kiros and Ward probably suspected but didn't have the heart to ask about.
He considered hiring some of those SeeDs – from Balamb Garden, his mind whispered, they have to be from Balamb – it would certainly make his life a little more easier . . . he had to find the girl before anyone else did, before the sorceress did. Besides . . . he missed her. Perhaps he will hire them. But that will attract unwarranted attention, so then again, perhaps not. Esthar was the greatest nation in the world. He was the President of Esthar. He didn't need outside help. Besides, it was also personal matter, in more ways than he could count. So no. No SeeDs.
All the same, he wondered if they took special requests; letting their clients choose the personnel they considered suitable . . . .
Snap out of it, Loire!
Of course he couldn't do that.
He heard that they had a new commander. Where did he hear that? The news? He was sure he had read that somewhere. From the Estharian Intelligence Agency reports? They had agents everywhere, equipped with all sorts of mind-boggling technology. Or it was Kiros perhaps, who had told him?
He snorted. Perhaps it was Kiros. The man was a one-man intelligence agency all by himself. He would know if Balamb Garden had a new commander.
And he also supposed it was Kiros who had dumped the papers on his desk which contained the reports of the sudden appearance of a Sorceress Edea in Deling City and some crazy plan by Garden trying to oust her. This business about Sorceresses and Knights and world domination was making his head ache. He fervently wished that the world would leave him alone for a moment.
The world, obviously, didn't oblige, because Kiros's report was still on his desk, along with another from Odine, which made little sense other that the world was in danger of being . . . lost? . . . in a compression of some sort. There were cryptic notes in Odine's slanted hand in the margins, and for the upteenth time, Laguna wondered if the man was eccentric or just barking mad.
And there was that list, of course, on that loose sheaf of paper that shouldn't have held much importance. A list of names of SeeDs that had gone against Edea, and it had caught his attention almost at once. One name in particular was etched in his mind, possibly permanently.
There was no way he could forget that name.
Leonhart. Squall Leonhart.
Why Leonhart?
Commander Squall Leonhart of Balamb Garden. It had a nice ring to it.
He was willing to admit he was curious at the choice – the boy was just seventeen . . . has it really been that long? He had just graduated, if Laguna was reading the file right. He couldn't be old enough to be in command. But hell, they had chosen him as the President of Esthar, and they barely had a reason.
But why is his name Leonhart?
All things considered, it was probably for the best . . . the boy deserved better. But why, really? Had it been her choice? If so, why, then?
He was thinking in circles again. He shook his head and tried to stop. Squall suited the young man, from what little he had heard of him. Probably shared her temperament, though . . . cool and collected and distant like the rain, yet her anger was as sharp and as furious as the storm.
Leonhart . . . Leonhart. The name haunted him. Raine Loire. Raine Leonhart. He had been more than just slightly suspicious – the name Leonhart wasn't exactly all that common – and he had sent an unhappy Kiros to search for more information on the boy. He glanced at his table, at the folder Kiros had reluctantly given him, and a hasty flip through its contents had all his suspicions confirmed. An attached photograph of the young man almost made his heart stop – it was Raine's blue-grey eyes staring at him, only that this time they were hard and unforgiving.
What am I supposed to do now?
He thought of Raine and her quiet sense of humour.
The joke's on me this time, ain't it Raine?
If only he could hear her again, scolding him and Elle for not using proper English. He smiled, slightly, remembering his little Elle. His smile slipped at further thought of the girl, of her innocent brown eyes and childish lisp. Even Ellone had his last name, though he had tried searching for 'Ellone Loire' and versions of that name with no avail. Where was Ellone? He hadn't the faintest idea where to search for her and he couldn't help but feel bitter at the thought of Intelligence being able to uncover the most minute of details regarding the Galbadian army but had not been able to do anything for his little girl.
His intercom buzzed, startling him out of his thoughts. Wearily, he pressed a button, and the clipped voice of the secretary said, "Sir, there is a young lady here to see you. She says that Mr Kiros sent her."
He rubbed his cheek. What the hell? Why would Kiros let anyone come up here?
"Show her in," he said tiredly, before continuing to look out at the window, to stare at the prison that he had painstakingly made and had cost him far too much than he had bargained for. Raine, in his conviction that one day he'll return to her and she would welcome him home with open arms. Ellone, in his efforts to keep her safe and sheltered in his embrace.
A son he may never get the chance to know.
The door whooshed open but Laguna didn't bother to turn.
A soft voice spoke, and there was the gentle, lilting accent of the Southern Galbadian continent in it. Of Winhill, to be exact. The accent was light, but recognisable, and achingly familiar. "I came a long way to see you, you know."
He froze. Maybe Raine had decided to come back and haunt him after all.
He turned slowly to see a young woman in a light-blue dress standing by the door. She was smiling at him, even as her brown eyes started to fill with tears. Who . . . ?
"Uncle Laguna?"
He gasped as recognition dawned fully. "Ellone? My little Elle?"
She laughed and started running towards him, graceful now, and very beautiful. He rushed towards her, wanting to hold her up by the arms and swing her around, even as a part of his mind registered that she was now a young woman; no longer a child. He settled to ruffling her hair instead, and she hugged him, her tears damping the front of his shirt.
"Uncle Laguna?"
"Yes, Elle?" he murmured.
"We need to talk. There's something you have to know."
His heart plummeted. "About what, Elle?"
"Everything. About Raine. About what had happened at Winhill. My powers." She hesitated. "And . . . ."
He looked straight at her, catching her eye. She thought he didn't know. Bless the child. But he had to tell her. Make her see that her Uncle Laguna wasn't really the hero she made him to be.
Will I ever be able to forgive myself?
He took a deep breath.
"How's your little brother, Ellone?"
----------[ August 25th, 2003 ]
Thanks to Maloire for pointing out a rather disjointed sentence that had the gall to appear in this fic. ^_^;;
Few other fixes as well, but I'm still not satisfied with this piece.