I think this came from the part where Squall walks into the bar and sees Raine's ghost for a moment, before it dissappears. Set a couple of years after the game. Painful to write and unwittingly slightly anti-Laguna.
Disclaimer: Me no own FFVIII
All that you can't leave behind.
He doesn't know why he came here. Came to this narrow-minded town which he hates and this abandoned house which he fears and this forlorn room, with furniture upturned and wallpaper yellowed and peeling. The room is old and broken and has gone unused for almost 20 years. This room holds nothing- for him or for anyone else. It's just a empty room in an empty house in an empty town which he should be leaving behind. Just a room.
A room he can't draw his eyes from.
He wouldn't allow Rinoa to follow him, and leaves her downstairs (with Ellone, who is under strict instructions to keep her there and keep her calm). It's superstitious and insane, but he doesn't feel like it's safe for her to be in here. Just like the silent words that echo around this room and make him stay firmly beside the door, prepared to run at the first sign of danger.
(But he somehow knows he's safe- he somehow knows that this room will let him survive.)
(It's superstitious and insane, he tells himself over and over, to think that way.)
He's not exactly sure that he should have brought her at all. The bump as they landed the airship made her grimace, clutch her abdomen, take a deep breath and he wished again that Winhill was in a more accessible location so that they could have travelled by train (in truth, he was almost glad for an instant that it was so remote- the instant before she declared she would accompany him).
But she refused to listen to his lecture on the-dangers-of-flying-whilst-in-her-third-trimester, choosing to instead practically throw herself out of the door as it sprang open, dancing (closer to waddling) into the cyclone of dusty petals caught in the wind and laughing at his alarmed expression.
He should be used to her daring by now- but it's still bizarre to him to see his enlarged wife fling herself off an airship. It would probably have been safer to leave her. Because of the dangers of flying.
(Not for any other irrational reasons that Seeds shouldn't be believing in.)
But the flowers here are renowned for being the brightest and the best around. And neither heaven nor earth nor even a neurotic leader of highly-skilled mercenaries are capable of keeping Rinoa- especially a heavily pregnant and hormonal Rinoa- away from the flowers.
But he can't let her follow him up here. She agreed to stay below, for once tenacity faltering. She thinks it's because this mission is personal, private, not something he wants her or any one else to witness and she almost tries to understand.
"Just be quick okay?" she said anxiously. He's sure she's worried, sure she's imagining a fall back to the reclusive Squall of old. And he hates to worry her, hates to think she's in danger from it. But he has to come here and he can't have her following him.
Cautiously, he takes a step further in, just one, the smallest step he can take without tripping over the bed. He knows this room quite well- he's been in it before, as himself, and in the past as Laguna. He's seen it through many eyes-
-but he hasn't seen it since he knew what it holds, what this bed that they rested upon and the empty crib lying beside it and the child's toys scattering the floor mean. He sees the few drops of blood on the frayed carpet differently now (where they came from he doesn't know- but in his mind, he can't doubt whose it once was).
He never realised, never knew how much of himself is held inside this room (how much of his life could have been here).
But he's a Seed. He shouldn't be feeling so emotional just by standing in a room that once meant nothing to him. He's a mercenary and he's experienced death before, held death in his hand and controlled it and watched it pass by in so many varieties, until the meaning of the word became irrelevant. This room should be no different, whether it's held death before or not.
He tries to believe it and has to lean against the wardrobe for support.
This is where she died, alone, separated from her child and calling out for her husband. This is where she was left to pass away, without peace and joyous tears but painfully, whispering her only son's name before the last hours of her life was passed away in broken consciousness.
When put like that, bluntly, coldly, emotionlessly- when put the way that Seeds are supposed to think of death- it makes him want to be sick.
A floor-board creaks and a door scrapes open and a head peers in it. "Squall?" a dark-headed figure asks and before he can stop her, before he can jump across the room, catch her hand and drag her out, before the little colour his face still holds can drain from his face, his wife pushes through, entering the room.
She catches the door, breathing heavily from climbing the stairs, and then jumps, startled by his pallid complexion and clenched fist (and wild eyes, pleading with her to get out and run).
Ellone follows her, wincing apologetically and tries to pull her out again.
He tries to shake away his unease, tries to ignore the throbbing impulse to get her out of there. His stomach tells him it's not safe for her, this room of death, it's not safe to let her stay. His head tells him it's just a room, that she's fine, that neither of them are in danger here- but he can't quite accept it.
(It's safe for him- but that's different. He survived in this room. He was allowed to live. She wasn't.)
Her eyes become wider and terrified as she slowly approaches him, moving further into the room, probably wondering why he becomes more uncomfortable with every step she takes. His eyes follow every move she makes, watching on horrified, as if waiting for the sword to strike. She sits herself carefully on the bed, resting her feet- and the creek makes him jump, makes him want to back out of the room, makes him want to flee.
"Squall, what's wrong? Are you sick?" she asks, worried, frantic, reaching out for a hand. She tilts her head, tries to smile, tries to make him smile, tries for any response. But all he can do is open his mouth as no sound comes out.
(That was where she lay, where it happened, where she was taken away from him.)
He takes a step towards her, slowly, easily, as if expecting one false move to bring it all crashing down.
"Squall?" Rinoa asks, more frightened than confused now, more desperate than frightened, more distraught than anything.
And suddenly Ellone lets out a cry, is cringing and pulling away from the scene before her. Her eyes close and then open, empty of any awareness.
And in a moment, it's all faded, the sun-light poring in from the outside, the smashed chest in the corner. Every thing fades away and then reappears, becoming new and useable and wanted. The crib is freshly painted, with baby clothes hanging from the side, green, neutral. The toys lying on the ground dissolve, packed away. And his wife disappears from the bed, another woman, dark-haired and pale, taking her place, lying asleep beneath the covers.
"Raine?" he hears himself say, only it's not his voice, it's a child's voice, high-pitched and melodic, undergone so much change to what he knows now and yet comes back to him like a far-off dream. The name chills him- but in the instant, he can't think why.
The woman's eyes open, take a moment to focus and then she smiles, tired but happy. She slowly lifts a hand and beckons him closer. He obeys, carefully clambering up and sitting beside her on the bed.
From this proximity, he can see that she's not well, not likely to survive much longer. She coughs and shivers, despite the perspiration dripping from her forehead.
"Raine, are you sick?" he asks, leaning back and examining her with wide, anxious eyes. She smiles slightly, ignoring the question and slowly pulls her body till its facing the crib.
"It's raining outside," she whispers, her voice soft and trembling. "That might be the reason why he's not here yet. Maybe his boat was held up because of the rain." She smiles wider and pulls him closer to herself, gently wrapping her arms around his scrawny body.
:A moment I always wanted to change-
"Have you seen him yet? Your new brother? That makes you a big sister, you know."
He shakes his head but makes no move to leave the bed and peer into the crib. Instead he just shrinks away as Raine turns back to the door- as if willing it to open.
:I used to pray you'd be able to change this for me.
"I called him Squall. Because of the storm. Squall. Do you think Laguna will find that funny? Or will he be mad that I didn't wait for him to name the baby?"
"Raine, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" he asks, his voice breaking, seeing through the anguish she's trying desperately to hide.
:So that it would be different, so that I would never have to relive it like this.
"He'll have Laguna's eyes, I think. You'll take good care of him for me, won't you Elle?" she whispers, trying to keep her voice light but failing entirely because of the desperation behind it.
:Even then I knew.
He couldn't think of any thing to say to this. He tried to turn away from her desolate eyes but catches sight of a bag with shiny silver instruments poking out of it. It chills him and he wants to leap out of her arms and flee.
Raine reclines and closes her eyes. She bites her lip, her smiles fading into a grimace. "Would you be a good girl and go tell the doctor I need some sleep now?"
:I knew it would happen and yet-
He nods and scrambles from the bed, wanting to run from the room, wanting to escape the tearful woman.
:I couldn't even stay for her. I couldn't change it. I just had to run.
"But be sure to wake me if Laguna comes!" she calls after him, hoarse, fraught, struggling to support herself on her elbows. "Be sure to send him straight up. Because he promised he's be here, okay?"
:Because there was blood and screaming and I didn't want to hear any more.
He nods again, not looking back at her as he flees, almost tripping down the stair in his haste, but still catching her closing words, "Squall? Squall's a beautiful name. Squall…"
:You shouldn't have to see this. I'm so sorry, Squall.
"Squall? Squall!"
He blinks once, as the stairs fade beneath him and the room sways and changes again. Opening his eyes, he finds himself looking up at the ceiling without knowing when he had closed them, or when he had fallen to the ground.
A dark-haired woman, that it takes him a moment to recall as his wife, is standing over him, terrified. He glances up, but Ellone is gone from the door, fled or just in the hall-way, he can't tell. She's probably scared and ashamed and crying over recollected memories she had tried to forget.
(He doesn't blame her for a moment. She didn't kill Raine. And neither did the room.)
"Squall, what's wrong?" Rinoa asks, tearful, almost pleading- and for a second he gets a flash of Raine's- his mother's- desperation in her eyes as she asked after her absent husband.
(Because losing him to the past is just as bad to her as losing him to Esthar.)
He pushes himself up and brushes himself off.
(He had to come to this room and see it.)
"Don't worry, I'm fine." he whispers, trying to force non-chalance into his voice.
Slowly, she pushes herself up and nods once, even though she's unconvinced by his show.
"I asked you to stay down stairs with Ellone. I didn't want you to worry about me."
She half smiles, as he reaches out for her arm and pulls her closer. "But you know I always worry anyway."
She bites her lip and then adds, "I wasn't sure where what you were doing. You were so distant. It… frightened me that you weren't really there."
He smiles- a small, sad, short-lasting smile, as he leads her through the door, out of the room, away from it. He wouldn't return.
(He had to go there. More than anything, he had to see that room. To see the suffering. To see where his world had stop being what it could have been. He had to see it, because he had to see why it had ended that way, what had been done wrong.
He had to see it to know the mistakes he could never make. He couldn't leave without her.)
"But you know, you'd never let me leave you behind any way. You'd be hot on my tail even if I did try to run." He stop, and gently closes the door, shutting out the last glimpse of a crib that had been built by hand and painted with love and barely been used.
"I promised I'd be here and I am. I'm not leaving."
He thinks he knows the difference now- why one could live and the other couldn't. He thinks he knows now that he's not going to lose her.
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