Chapter 1: Laguna's Dinner

Laguna Loire leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up onto his desk, and folded his arms behind his head. To the left of his boot he could see his assistant, Sam, going through a long list scribbled in pencil on a yellow legal pad. Laguna was bored just looking at it, which he could see had "Economic Summit" written at the top in all capital letters. They had already been reviewing Esthar's economic policies for two hours, and Laguna hadn't even cracked the top ten.

Being in government at peace time, he decided, was horridly boring.

Things hadn't always been this way. Once upon a time, when he'd first been elevated to his position, everything about Esthar had been a-buzz with change. Life had been dynamic then, a rollercoaster of passions and adventures. Fear did that to people. And if the Sorceress Adel had been adept at anything, it was inspiring fear. Laguna had coasted to power after her cataclysmic reign and defeat. Since then, he had seen political tensions rise to a fever pitch between Esthar and Galbadia, a lunar cry, and a second sorceress war. Presently, stronger from what it had recently endured, Esthar was plugging along brightly and all the analysts Laguna had were calling for smooth sailing to the horizon.

He twitched his big toe and watched the bump it created rise and fall in his shoe. Privately, he daydreamed of stepping down, releasing himself from this burden. Micromanagement wasn't exactly his forte. He imagined that he would go back to writing for Timber Maniacs and travel the world. Laguna wasn't the sort of man who could stay still long – that was why he'd joined the military in the first place. Being president hadn't really led him to any new and exciting places. Rather, he hadn't been outside the shielded expanse of the city in months.

"Sir?"

"Hmm? Sorry?" Laguna snapped to attention, knocking his stapler off the side of the desk. It made a loud, metallic thunk as it hit the ground and sprang open, scattering staples across the floor. Sam seemed almost pained looking down at the mess.

"Aside from the summit, the…uh…new Galbadian President has expressed interest in meeting with you," Sam said, looking exasperated as if thinking, Why on earth would anyone want to meet with you?

"What's he want to meet about?" Laguna asked. "It's not one of those damn diplomatic brunches, is it?"

"I'm sure the last thing he wants is dinner by candlelight, Sir."

Laguna rolled his eyes. "So, what does he want?"

The new president elect in Galbadia, Jack Krier, was a former military commander originally from a small desert town near D-District prison. Laguna hadn't worked with Krier during his time in the Galbadian army, but he'd heard of him nonetheless. Jack Krier was in many ways the antithesis of Laguna. In fact, he wasn't sure that they could even exist in the same room without spontaneously annihilating one another. Krier was the consummate military man, starched and stern with time tables and objectives for everything. Laguna had always been a more of a roll-with-the-punches kind of guy. Flexibility and independence were always positive traits, he thought.

"We don't really know," Sam replied. "But we were told by his people that he'd like to meet on neutral ground."

"Neutral ground, huh?" Laguna pursed his lips. "Do they have any suggestions?" He imagined some place exotic. A small, remote tropical island perhaps with vast underground meeting rooms complete with plexi-glass windows that bats would occasionally wing past and waxy limestone stalagmites.

It was a beautiful dream, until Sam said, "Balamb."

"Balamb?" Laguna was almost disappointed. He'd been meaning to take a trip to Balamb for months, spend a little time in the sun, get a little fishing done. He hesitated to think that Squall might welcome him into Garden, but perhaps if he were with Ellone… "I think we could fit it into my schedule. What do you think?"

Sam leafed momentarily through a planner. "Looks like your schedule is wide open, Sir."

"Right." Laguna waved a hand importantly. "Tell the Galbadians that I'll meet with Krier, and set everything up."

"Would you like me to contact Balamb Garden?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

In the years since Adel had been vanquished inside the Lunatic Pandora and the sorceress Ultimecia had been defeated, Laguna had only seen his son a few cursory times when the paths of Esthar and Balamb Garden had crossed. He wanted to sit down and explain to Squall why he'd left Winhill, why he'd never come to the orphanage for him; but somehow they never managed to discuss anything important. The more time passed, the more difficult talking became. Maybe it was already too late.

Still, Ellone would want to see her brother. And he would want to see her.

"Yeah. Make sure Squall knows I'll be bringing Ellone along." He didn't have to feel guilty about piggy-backing on their good relationship. He refused to.

Sam scribbled in his planner.

"No hint about what Krier wants?

"None." Sam shrugged. "But he is a brand new President. Maybe he's trying to make friends."

Esthar and Galbadia weren't really enemies per-say, but they were never really on the same side either. Still, Laguna, a Galbadian, was president of Esthar. Stranger things had happened.

"Do the people want that?" Laguna wondered aloud, already knowing the answer. The people of Esthar really only wanted to be left alone. They didn't have alliances with anyone and never had. Why start now?

In any case, he wasn't nearly as concerned about Galbadia as he was about Squall. Under the desk, he could already feel the muscle in his calf beginning to spasm and tighten.

"I've got a few more things…" Sam ticked something off on his list.

"Is any of it important?" Laguna asked, grunting a little as the cramp intensified. He could tell Sam was irritated by the question but didn't really care. He needed to get up and walk off the cramp. He wanted out of the office. "I mean...is it anything that you actually need me for?"

The question was a loaded one. Sam answered carefully. "I suppose we could handle things without you."

"Great." Laguna circled around the desk and clapped the man affectionately on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Sam." A childish part of Laguna chuckled at the rhyme.

"Um…thank you."

"Feel free to use my office to get whatever you need done," Laguna smiled brightly, then hobbled for the door as fast as his cramped leg would take him.

The plush hallway of the presidential palace greeted him with a blessedly empty yawn. Laguna stopped to lean against the wall and turned his wedding ring around on his finger. Did it still count, he wondered, since they hadn't actually married? He sighed and thought of Raine, remembering their soft and tender love in a time when his life was full of passionate possibility. Squall was all that remained now of their bond.

His muscle clenched painfully one last time. He hadn't been so nervous in years.

0 0 0

Squall cursed as Angelo shoved her head under his hand, making his pen scratch across the paper in a wild arc. Undaunted, Angelo began licking his arm, slicking the hairs back in the wrong direction. She smelled vaguely of filth overlaid with the sheen of Rinoa's feathery perfume.

"Dammit, Angelo!" Squall shoved her away and rubbed the wet spot on his arm. The dog continued to stare up at him, her butt wiggling with the sheer joy of coming into the room and finding him there. For a dog extensively trained in rescue and attack, Angelo was really pretty stupid, Squall thought. He looked down at her, and her wide brown eyes looked right back.

"What?" he demanded.

Her ears perked up and her head titled slightly to one side.

Squall sighed. "I'm busy. What do you want?"

"Are you talking to me?" Rinoa called from the bathroom.

"No!" Squall yelled to her.

"Who are you talking to?" she yelled back.

"Angelo. She's staring at me." The dog's unwavering look was beginning to give Squall the creeps. Angelo was very much Rinoa's dog and had never shown much interest in him. They had always been somewhat at odds, both after the same thing. And more often than not, Angelo was the one who ended up snuggled against Rinoa's side at night.

She peeked into the room, a few large curlers still hanging from her hair. "Oh! Look at that." Rinoa smiled. "I told you she likes you."

Rinoa's head quickly vanished back into the bathroom.

"What are you working on, anyway?"

"Paperwork," he replied. "All this security is a nightmare. What's Esthar think we're going to do? Kill him ourselves?" Ever since Squall had received word that Laguna Loire, president of Esthar and his father, was coming to Balamb, he'd been mired in a mountain of paperwork and phone calls. And Squall was not the sort of man who appreciated details or chats on the phone. He hated all of it, and hated it more because he was doing it for Laguna.

"Well," Rinoa floated out of the bathroom, smelling like early spring tulips, "it does sort of seem like you might try." She wrapped her arms around him from behind and dropped her head down to kiss him on the cheek.

"Whatever."

"Oh come on, Squall." Rinoa stood back, flipping her hair out of her face. "Aren't you even excited to see Ellone?"

"Of course!" He started to become defensive. Ellone had been the only person he'd cared about for a long time. She'd always mean the world to him.

Rinoa put her hands firmly on her hips. "Then go to this thing for her. And for me." She tilted her head to one side, looking strikingly like Angelo for a moment. "I know all about having a dad who's not there for you, you know. At least Laguna wants to be there for you now. You've got to give him some credit."

Rinoa didn't always practice what she preached. She, for what it was worth, was still estranged from her own father who was living alone in his vast Deling City mansion.

"I never said I wasn't going to go. But I don't have to like it."

Everyone else in Garden was thrilled over the visit. Zell, Selphie, Irvine, and Quistis had all turned up to see them. Selphie even returned early from a mission when word reached her. The four had been buzzing for days about resurfacing memories of their childhood together, the various times each of them had spent in Esthar, and Laguna's old Timber Maniacs articles Selphie had posted on the Garden network. She was particularly overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Laguna. Squall couldn't understand why she still saw him as valiant knight in shining armor and not as the bumbling fool he really was.

"Oh." Rinoa grinned. "I see. Big tough Squall who doesn't need anybody, is it?"

"I have everybody I need right here." He motioned to her and, begrudgingly, to Angelo.

"That's sweet." She patted Angelo's head. "Stupid, but sweet."

Rinoa turned her attention toward the closet, ready to rummage through her massive collection of dresses to find the perfect one. Inevitably, she would try on at least ten of them, change her mind an equal number of times, ask Angelo's and then Squall's opinion, and then decide on the exact opposite of whatever he advised. Squall figured he had at least an hour before he had to even think about getting ready to leave.

Exhausted from the sleepless nights he'd spent up worrying over this dinner and having to come face to face with his "father" again, Squall curled up on the bed and was soothed into a quick power nap by Rinoa's soft humming.

He woke up some time later when there was a knock on the door to find Angelo curled warmly against the small of his back and drool just beginning to collect in the side of his mouth. Bleary eyed and disoriented, he rolled over to see Rinoa open the door and Quistis walk in. She was wearing a long black dress and her hair was up, a few golden curls trailing down around her face, and hoop earrings brushing against her neck. Embarrassed to be caught napping, Squall sat up and tried to pretend he hadn't been asleep at all, unaware of the vivid red sheet marks on his cheek.

Quistis smirked at him for a moment, and then said to Rinoa, "I just dropped by for an opinion. I'm not sure how formal this thing is going to be."

"Me neither!" Rinoa admitted. "I'm glad you're here. Listen, what do you think about these two? I've been debating forever now."

Quistis gave both dresses Rinoa held up an analytical look and then rendered her opinion in painstaking detail, making Squall's groggy head spin. Why did getting dressed have to be such a big deal? His SeeD uniform was hanging on a hangar on the closet door, ready for him to put on and leave.

"There aren't uniforms for girls," Rinoa had once argued with him when he'd complained about her angst over clothing. The disagreement had only become more heated when he'd pointed out that, in fact, she did have a perfectly good SeeD uniform. He'd been glad to drop the conversation at the first opportunity and wasn't about to bring it up again.

"Squall," Rinoa turned to him. "You'd better get ready. We've got to leave in a few minutes."

Quistis and Rinoa had evidently decided upon a short, powder blue dress and were now beginning to pick out matching accessories. As she scolded him, Rinoa pulled off her bathrobe and wriggled into her dress in a scene of such informal near-nudity that Squall's thoughts momentarily screeched to a halt. He heard Quistis zip the back of his girlfriend's dress up.

"Hurry, Squall."

Trying not to think about Rinoa and Quistis dressing or…undressing one another, Squall grabbed his uniform and retreated to the bathroom to change. By the time he emerged, Quistis was gone and Rinoa was buckling a pair of strappy heels.

"We're going to be late!" She pushed him out the door as she put her earrings in. Squall reached out to touch one of them, pulling a little on the dangling bauble and dimly amused at the way it swung and sparkled. She looked beautiful.

"Be a good girl, Angelo!" Rinoa called back as the door slid closed behind them.

Squall sighed and, looking around to be sure no one was watching, kissed her gently. "Can't we just go back in?"

Rinoa shook her head and looped her arm through his. Together, they met the other four in front of the Garden directory. Zell and Irvine, Squall noted, were both in their SeeD uniforms, although Irvine was still persistently wearing his Galbadian Garden uniform. He'd never been officially discharged from that academy, and in perfect Irvine fashion wasn't quite willing to commit himself to Balamb. Selphie was at his elbow, wearing his hat and a long yellow dress with a slit going halfway up one side.

Laguna was throwing a lavish dinner at the Balamb Hotel, a prelude to the political meeting which would take place the next day. Strictly speaking, Squall and company where guests of Laguna and liaisons for Balamb Garden should any deal be brokered. Squall hated this sort of diplomatic pandering, even if it did provide a convenient excuse for the whole gang to get together again.

The car ride into Balamb was uncomfortable. The excitement and fast chatter of his friends aggravated Squall's already frayed nerves. He hadn't been in the same room as Laguna for more than a few minutes since the war and he'd hoped to avoid it for the rest of his life. His issues of abandonment were much too deep, and he wasn't exactly eager to work through them. He'd lived for over twenty years without a father. He didn't need one now.

Balamb was bustling with activity when they arrived. The hotel was illuminated with vast chains of purple and blue lights and winked on and off like a great swarm of fireflies. In their Garden car, they were flagged past the first bit of security and directed toward the back of the hotel where the security team was assembling. There they were briefed, given a cursory identity check, and allowed to go inside.

Rinoa gripped hard on Squall's arm, her body moving close to his as they climbed the steps toward the banquet room. She was unusually quiet amidst the flurry of giggles emanating from Selphie and the calm droning of Quistis. Squall, happy to just have someone supporting him through this event, tucked her close.

"Oh wow! Look at that! It's beautiful." Selphie skipped into the banquet room which was set with multiple round tables, all covered in thick white linen and beach themed decorations. Laguna stood in the middle of it all, wearing sandals, a sea foam green shirt half unbuttoned, and loose white pants. His hair was pulled back but still managed to look messy. When he saw them walk in he smiled and waved.

"Sir Laguna!" Selphie launched herself at him, settling into his arms for a big bear hug that lifted her a good foot off the ground and tipped Irvine's hat off her head.

The others he met with somewhat less exuberance: a handshake for Irvine, a friendly back-slap for Zell, and a casual embrace for Quistis. When he came to Squall his hands buried themselves in his pockets and he rocked back onto his heels.

"Squall…hi," he said lamely.

"Hi."

"Listen…I'd really like to talk to you after this. I know you probably don't want to, but…I'd uh…we'll…you could just listen. If you want."

Squall looked away and shrugged. "Whatever."

Frowning just a little, Laguna put his bright face back on for Rinoa. "Nice to see you again, Rinoa. Listen, I've got to go talk to the Galbadians for a bit. But I definitely want to see you two later." He held up a single finger as a physical indication of their engagement, and then rushed off to attend to whatever business he had.

Squall and Rinoa made an attempt at mingling, both of them getting punch and enjoying some hors d'oeuvres. Over the top of his punch glass, he surveyed the crowd. Looking around, Squall wondered not for the first time why Esthar and Galbadia were talking in the first place. Esthar wasn't exactly a friendly country. They preferred to be left alone by both their enemies and their friends.

Facing away from him, Squall spotted a woman with short, chocolate brown hair. She wore a white dress with a blue jacket and yellow sneakers rather than dress shoes. Squall felt a rush of relief.

Ellone.

Leaving Rinoa at the refreshment table where she had fallen into conversation with some long lost Galbadian friend, Squall went to greet his sister. She turned just as he reached her. In her right hand, she held a small flute of champagne which was more for appearance than anything else. The glass was full; Ellone didn't drink. It tipped a little as she threw out one arm and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Squall." She grinned and his heart lightened.

0 0 0

Quistis chewed on a green olive she'd fished out of her drink and looked around for someone – anyone – she knew. Irvine and Selphie had vanished into the crowd. Even Zell, who should have stood out like a sore thumb, was nowhere to be seen. Alone, as usual, she thought.

"Good evening." A deep, rumbling voice erupted just behind her.

She spun around to find a tall, physically imposing older man. A sigh managed to escape past her lips. Why can't I ever attract a man my own age? Quistis had a special appeal to the middle-aged crowd.

"Jack Krier," he introduced himself, proffering one meaty hand. Quistis was surprised. She only vaguely recalled Krier's election, and this certainly wasn't what she'd envisioned. His broad shoulders filled his black suit and would have stretched the seams had the jacket not been tailor made (which was evident from the man's initials sewn onto the inside of the cuffs). Across his chin was a shadow of stubble that looked deliberate or perhaps simply unavoidable as a perpetual five o'clock shadow. His hair was dark and slicked back. The hand Quistis took gripped was rough but warm.

"President Krier?" she asked, just to be sure.

"One and only."

"I'm Quistis Trepe."

"Ah…" Recognition flashed through his gray eyes. She wondered whether he knew her name, or if he'd seen the humiliating Galbadian broadcast from years ago when Seifer had kidnapped his predecessor. "I'm glad that Balamb agreed to host this event." He slipped into business. "Your commander has been more than generous with his time."

"Squall?" Generous wasn't the first adjective that came to mind when Quistis thought about her former student.

"Yes. He's…President Loire's son then?" Krier asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Sort of," Quistis shrugged and took a sip from her glass.

"And you are SeeD." He seemed amused by this.

"You have SeeDs in Galbadia."

"Mmm…yes. But none quite like you." There it was. The flirting. What did he want from her anyway?

If Krier noticed how uncomfortable he was making his companion in conversation, he didn't show it.

"I'm very excited that there's finally a bridge between Galbadia and Esthar," he began, slipping into politics again. "Having a Galbadian President in Esthar offers us a unique opportunity to find some common ground, don't you think? Together, Galbadia and Esthar will be able to accomplish things neither country could on their own. I know that these talks are going to usher us into a great new age."

Was that what he was after, Quistis wondered. An alliance? He had to realize that Esthar would never accept political bonds with any other country, whether Laguna wanted them or not, and had just opened her mouth to say so when he changed track again.

"Would you care for another drink?" He stopped a passing waitress and selected something pink in a stubby glass and handed it to Quistis.

She was mildly insulted by the choice – of course a man like him would assume she only consumed pink beverages – but was too stymied by his constant changes in direction to offer a good response.

"You must feel very privileged to have been there in the moment when Squall defeated the Sorceress."

Quistis hesitated to insist that Squall hadn't taken on Ultimecia alone; and was too ashamed to admit that, in fact, she'd been knocked cold before the end of the battle and had spent the remainder spiraling through time compression only to be dumped on the beach near the orphanage some time later. Dizziness and disorientation still sometimes struck her like a space-time tidal wave. "It's not a privilege I'd wish upon my enemies," she finally said.

"There is peace now because of you," he replied. "The Sorceresses are all defeated."

"Well, there's still Rinoa." It slipped out before Quistis had the good sense to keep the fact to herself. Krier smiled as if she'd offered him a particularly juicy bone.

"I mean, of course, all the evil Sorceresses."

"Of course."

That was one thing Galbadia and Esthar now had in common -- a mutual hatred of sorceresses. Edea had changed the Galbadians from a nation of people who daydreamed about magic and knights into one that feared them. Quistis remembered watching romantic movies about tall, dark men in glittering armor when she was young, hardly able to understand the actors with their thick west Galbadian accents, but nonetheless enchanted by the idea of selfless loyalty. The knight always died in the end, his bloody head falling into the sorceresses lap where she cradled it in the folds of her white robe. The bitter reality of a sorceress more shadow than light, and a knight who lived his life with the same verve as a raging brush fire had sobered the Galbadian fantasy. With Jack Krier the people had elected a leader both hard and powerful. He was a bulwark against another hostile takeover.

So, Quistis regarded him with a healthy dose of suspicion as he spoke of Rinoa, the last remaining sorceress.

"I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her yet," he said. "Is she here?"

"Afraid I haven't seen her."

"She's the daughter of our own General Caraway, you know. I served under him briefly. Brilliant man. I'd love to meet his only daughter."

"Rinoa doesn't take after her father much," Quistis shrugged. "I don't think you'd see a resemblance."

"Consider it a courtesy." He reached out and touched her elbow. "You'll introduce us if you see her?"

Quistis was intensely relieved when, at that moment, Laguna burst forth from the crowd and blew over their conversation like a whirlwind.

"Quistis!" He threw an arm around her shoulders. "I see you've met President Krier. Quite the charmer, isn't she, Jack? Having a good time?" The last question he directed at Quistis, peeking into her drink. Laguna and Krier were both men who commanded attention, but in social circumstances Quistis sensed Laguna had the upper hand.

"Very charming, indeed." Krier smiled faintly.

Laguna's arm was warm and heavy around Quistis. Protective, she thought. Was he afraid of Jack Krier?

"Which is exactly why I'd like to introduce her to a few of my people. If you don't mind, that is," Laguna said, although he was already ushering Quistis away.

"What was that about?" she asked, trying not to spill her drink as Laguna shuffled her toward a table where Zell and Selphie were already sitting. Zell had a plate of cocktail sausages and was stuffing them down his throat as Selphie cheered him on.

"You shouldn't fornicate with the enemy."

"Fornicate?!"

"Oh...you know what I mean! I don't know what he wants. And I don't want him knowing things about Esthar he shouldn't, you know?"

Quistis shook her head. Sometimes, she wondered what Esthar was trying to hide. In the past two years she'd spent a significant amount of time there -- pastel robes and all -- and hadn't found anything worth keeping secret.

"Why don't you find Ellone," Laguna suggested. "She's really been looking forward to seeing you all again. Especially Squall." As his son's name rolled off his lips, Laguna became distracted. "Have you seen him? I told him I wanted to talk to him."

He's probably halfway to Timber by now, Quistis thought.

Like a problem child, she was sat down on the other side of Zell who flashed her a meaty grin that smelled so strong of sausage Quistis nearly fell backward in her chair. Selphie laughed, her yellow lacquered nails biting into her cheeks as she fought to stifle her glee. Perfect. Only Quistis could go in a matter of seconds from wining and dining the president of Galbadia to the kids' table.

Laguna hovered over them like a mother chocobo, fluttering here and there with his eyes always on the crowd, watching for Squall's shining mane of hair. Deliberately ignoring Zell and Selphie, Quistis watched Krier move through the room. He was confident in every step and radiated power. He touched base with almost everyone, she noticed. Really made the rounds. He'd introduce himself, smile and shake hands, then move on. Only those from Garden or who were part of the official Esthar delegation warranted more than five minutes of courteous attention. Until one man, another Galbadian, walked up and grabbed him by the arm.

Quistis' back straightened and her hands unconsciously gripped the edge of the table.

She saw the new man wave an arm, stamp a foot, and step into Krier's personal space. They would have been nose to nose if Krier hadn't been so tall. The commotion was beginning to draw the attention of everyone around them, including Zell who paused in his chewing with his jaw slack.

"God dammit!" she heard as the Galbadian shook his head.

Squall, with the same unnerving sense of timing his father had, chose this moment to appear with Ellone at his side. He put a gloved hand on her arm as he walked with purpose toward the squabbling pair.

Noticing Squall, Krier grabbed the smaller man by the shoulders and spoke firmly to him. Even across the room, Quistis could make out the veins pulsing in his neck and temples. Quistis, along with everyone else, gasped and shot up from her seat when the smaller man stepped back and then took a swing at the president, landing a lusty blow to Krier's jaw that made his head snap back. Squall pushed through the crowd, his free hand going to his waist where it grasped at air. Weapons weren't permitted, even by SeeDs, at this high profile meeting.

"Holy shit," Zell squeaked out past a mouthful of food. "Did you see that? Did you see that?"

Krier recovered quickly from the hit and responded the way any military man would. Quistis saw his shoulders bunch, saw the material of his expensive blazer stretch and mold as he drew one arm back. The other man, for all his zest, wouldn't be able to take a punch from Jack Krier.

"Stop!" Quistis cried, holding one hand out.

She felt the spell move down her arm before she even realized that she'd cast it. A blue green haze obscured her vision as the rest of the world slowed around her. Her heartbeat pulsed loud and slow even as her fingers and palm burned with energy. And then just as quickly the spell was gone, flying across the room. She saw it hit Krier and the Galbadian, drawing their eyes up into the back of their heads and causing their muscles for one split second to visibly cramp.

They froze, Krier's fist inches from the Galbadian. And Squall came up next to them, still grabbing for the gunblade he'd left at home.

0 0 0

Squall gazed at the two prone forms in front of him, his blood still raging, and looked past them to find Quistis there with her hand still held out from the spell she had cast. Laguna, Zell, and Selphie stood with her, their mouths slack with horror. Had Quistis really just cast a spell on the President of Galbadia? This was going to be a nightmare. Squall could already see the piles of letters appearing on his desk, the apologies he would have to make. The entire crowd was hushed, also seeming frozen by the power of Quistis' single command. For a long moment, no one dared to breathe. Then, finally, Rinoa appeared.

"Oh my God! Squall!" Her high pitched squeal threw the room into noisy chaos. Somewhere in the midst of it all, Rinoa cast esuna on the battling pair.

Krier stumbled and blinked, confused but otherwise unharmed. The Galbadian, on the other hand, collapsed into a heap in the dying glow of the spell.

"What the hell? Quistis?!" Squall hauled the Galbadian to his feet. The blonde was jogging toward him as fast as her black heels could take her. "What were you thinking?"

Her mouth opened, then closed. "He was going to hit him!" she finally said.

"Why are you even junctioned?" Squall ground out, furious and sticking his face close to hers. He could smell fruity alcohol on her breath.

"You mean you're not?" she hissed.

Zell and Irvine crowded around them, the later taking the Galbadian's other arm.

He didn't have time to deal with this. Now he'd be stuck making amends with the Galbadians all night. He'd be lucky if he even got time to sit down and eat, not to mention Garden might never get a job in that half of the world again. He wouldn't even have time to...

Squall's mind paused and he even froze in place. Krier was staring, his fist still clenched and a dazed look in his eyes. Krier and...Laguna walking over to him, ready to begin the extensive apologies. Laguna...Laguna! Suddenly, the situation didn't seem quite so dire.

Ellone ran from Squall's arm and into Laguna's waiting embrace. He pulled her close in an off-hand sort of way. Fatherly.

"Right." Squall gave Quistis a look he hoped was scathing, then barked to Irvine: "Lets take this man into custody." Hiding a small smile of relief, which Rinoa spotted and angrily crossed her arms at, Squall walked away, off to do something he was infinitely more comfortable with than the fancy dresses, cocktails, and diplomacy: confront a hardened criminal.

Well...maybe not a hardened criminal, Squall reflected as he and Irvine drug the Galbadian out of the hotel ballroom and across the hall through a door marked "Employees Only." He was still shaken, terrified as he looked back and forth between the two SeeDs. They had a reputation. Finding a SeeD on your doorstep, or worse, finding yourself suddenly in the custody of two, was the common plot of civilian action movies and not the sort of thing anyone figured really happened. Irvine swept a box of blank timecards off a folding metal chair sitting pushed up against the wall and planted the man in it.

"Oh no..." he moaned, covering his face with his hands.

"Hey, calm down," Irvine commanded. "It's not the end of the world."

They'd all attacked their share of world leaders in their time.

"Yeah. We just want to talk is all." Squall tried his best to sound reassuring.

The man shook his head and began to cry softly. It was hardly the reaction Squall had expected, especially after his aggression against Krier only moments before. In amongst all the snot and tears, all Squall could make out was the occasional "Hyne" and "doomed." He was right to address a higher power; he'd need one if Krier was feeling unforgiving.

"What's your name?" Irvine asked, crouching down a little.

"Robert Shipey." He looked up at them then, nose bulbous and red, his eyes wet and swollen. It was disgusting. Squall folded his arms and looked impassive.

"Alright. Do you have a job?" Irvine continued.

Shipey nodded.

"And...?"

"I'm a professor...at Deling University," he muttered, seemingly just as displeased with his answer as Squall was. "I've been contracted by the Galbadian Government as an expert."

"Expert on what?"

"Ancient Centra. Or, really, Ancient Centran. You know. The language." As he entered into a realm of conversation more comfortable he visibly began to calm and spoke with more strength. "We've finally got enough samples from around the world that we've been able to work backwards from the languages in Dollet and Esthar to reconstruct Ancient Centran. We can finally read all the inscriptions, all the ancient parchments..."

Ancient Centran? Squall couldn't even begin to imagine what a university professor had to do with Krier.

"And you've been contracted by the Galbadian government?" Squall asked.

"Two years ago."

"To do what?"

"That's..." he hesitated. "I can't..." He licked his lips and looked from Squall to Irvine and back again. "He's cutting me out of the project. He's not listening anymore."

"Is that what the fight was about?" Squall asked. "Krier's not consulting you?"

"No. He's not listening at all." Shipey blew threw his teeth. "He's taking over the whole project."

"Serious thing, attacking the president like that," Irvine counseled. "He could throw you in prison forever, you know."

"No. The work I'm doing is too important for that."

"Wouldn't count on that, Professor."

Squall leaned back on his heels, wondering why Shipey was at this dinner in the first place. He was about to ask when the door opened behind him.

"Mr. Leonheart." A black-suited, serious man came into the room followed by two more. "This man attacked the President of Galbadia. We appreciate your help in this matter, but we're here to take him into custody." The one in front, apparently the ring-leader, flashed Squall a badge that identified him as Galbadian secret service. Since the Vinzer Deiling fiasco, the Galbadian secret service had been significantly beefed up. They were no longer the bumbling rank and file of the army, but an elite force of highly trained goons. A few years ago, Squall might have felt intimidated. As it was, he turned and crossed his arms, irritated.

"We'll hand him over when we're done with him," he replied. "You'll have to wait."

"I'm afraid we can't do that." The man motioned to his companions, who pushed into the room and pulled Shipey up off his chair.

"I think you're forgetting where you are," Squall said and blocked the door. "Balamb is Garden's territory. This man is under our umbrella until we release him to you."

From behind, he felt a firm hand grip his shoulder and squeeze.

"What's going on here?" Krier asked.

"Just trying to get some answers, Sir." Squall had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he turned to face the president. Krier looked over his shoulder at the three secret service men surrounding Shipey.

"I'm sorry." He gave Squall a diplomatic smile. "This is my fault. I told my men here to take Mr. Shipey off your hands. Garden doesn't need to be involved in this squabble." The hand still gripping Squall's shoulder guided him out of the doorway.

"Squabble?"

"Yes. I fired him."

"Why?"

"His committee was just sucking up resources without giving anything back." Krier and Shipey eyed one another as the secret service men led him from the room, his hands pinned behind his back and twisted at an odd angle. "Something about translating ancient documents. Not the sort of thing worth our tax payer's money in today's world. So, I dissolved the project. Mr. Shipey was distraught, but apparently more than I realized."

"Then why is he here in the first place?" It was a brusque question to ask the president of the world's second most powerful nation.

"He's an important figure in Galbadia," Krier said. "Don't worry about him. Galbadia can handle its own matters. Feel free to go back to dinner. I know you must value this time with your father."

The President shoved his hands into his tight pockets and sauntered casually after his men. Squall bristled. Bringing up Laguna had been a low blow.

"That was weird..." Irvine reached behind his head and tightened his ponytail.

"They must be hiding something," Squall replied.

"What? Some old history book from the damn dark ages? Who cares? I think they're just paranoid. They've been paranoid ever since Edea killed Deling." The assassination of a president did have a way of putting a country on its toes.

"But this is a dumb thing to be secretive about," Squall shook his head. "I think there's something more."

"Maybe these books say something like Galbadians and Estharans are related," Irvine said. "That'd put a kink in things, wouldn't it?" He thought about the idea for a moment and shook his head. "Just can't see what Ancient Centrans would have to say that would be interesting."

They walked back to the dining room where the rumble of voices and flatware against plates struck a dissonant chord to Squall's darkening inner thoughts. Shipey, in some way he couldn't quite pinpoint, had deeply disturbed him. He found the two sides of the man he'd seen difficult to reconcile -- an academic punching a world leader at a political conference. The story Krier had given him, that Shipey had recently been fired, didn't sit well either. He was still deep in thought when Rinoa pulled him down into the seat next to her at Laguna's table.

"I saved you a seat." Directly between her and Laguna, he noticed. Selphie, Zell, Quistis, Ellone, and now Irvine were all seated there as well. It must have looked strange to the other guests, seeing the president of Esthar seated at a table of twenty-somethings, three of whom were easily recognizable as SeeDs.

Laguna leaned over. "Glad to see you could make it, Squall."

"I need to talk to you," Squall announced, wincing when he heard how it came out and the glaze of delight it produced on Laguna's face.

"Yes. Fantastic. I'm glad you agreed." Ellone leaned around Laguna's other side and beamed at her brother.

Deep down, Squall uttered every curse word he'd ever heard and made up a few of his own. He hadn't meant a father-son chat, more like a military debriefing. But the faces of everyone around him were glowing with his seeming acceptance of Laguna, so he tried to put on a pleasant countenance. Difficult as it was, he managed a small, painful smile. He still had to resist the desire to roll into the safe little emotional shell he'd lived the majority of his life inside. As soon as everyone looked away, absorbed back into dinner chatter, he closed the walls around him. Whatever...he didn't have to talk about anything personal anyway. He'd just make his report and leave.

A plate was already set out for Squall. He had the same thing as everyone else: steak smothered in dark, sticky sauce, a baked potato topped with a dollop of sour cream and chives, a slice of chocolate cheese cake, and a glass of water. Picking up his knife, he sawed his steak in half and tried to ignore Rinoa, who was talking about her time as part of the resistance in Timber and petting Squall's knee with her free hand. Over the rim of his water glass, he noticed Krier and his men come back into the dining room. Krier waved to Squall, then sat himself between two men dressed in Galbadian army regalia. They certainly hadn't taken long to deal with Shipey. He hoped they hadn't just taken him out back and shot him.

"What do you think of Jack Krier?" Laguna asked quietly, noticing his son's riveted attention.

"Not sure yet."

Dinner was over more quickly than Squall would have liked. He took his sweet time finishing his cheesecake, savoring every last bite while the catering staff kept drifting by to take plates, each eyeing him with thinly veiled hostility. Finally, he couldn't waste any more time, and the moment his fork touched the edge of the plate a man appeared out of nowhere and swept it away.

"I'm going to go make nice with the Galbadians before we go," Quistis announced, pushing back her chair.

Squall saw his opportunity and pushed out his own chair, ready to join her, but didn't get the chance to so much as stand up before Laguna's arm came down over his shoulders and rested there, filled with all the tension between them. Even such simple contact between them was a significant and weighty thing. "We can talk in my room," Laguna said. "If we're not done before everyone else has to leave, my people can take you back to Garden."

Squall agreed. No one seemed to notice as they got up together and left. It was strange and awkward being alone with Laguna. They had never really been alone together before. Ellone, Kiros, or Ward were never far away. Now, walking in silence together through empty hotel hallways, Squall was getting nervous. Even frightened. I'll say what I have to say right away, he decided. Just get it out, then maybe we'll get caught up in business.

Laguna's suite was plush and expansive, complete with a kitchenette, living room, and hot tub. Sighing, Laugna sat down on the couch and, rubbing the back of his calf, motioned for Squall to sit down as well. He chose a chair across the coffee table from Laguna, a comfortable distance, and launched into what needed to be said.

"I thought you should know what happened with the man who attacked Krier," he said.

Laguna looked genuinely surprised. "You do?"

"His name is Robert Shipey. He's been working for the Galbadians...deciphering ancient documents or something for the past two years. Krier says he was recently fired."

Laguna whistled. "That's rough. Bad enough having to fire someone...but then something like that happens."

"Well, we were questioning him, trying to find out why he was here at all, when Krier's men barged in. Don't know where they took him."

"He's ex-military," Laguna shrugged. "He's used to commanding people and situations."

"He seemed particularly eager to get Shipey away from us." Squall was trying hard to impress upon Laguna how strange and ominous he found the situation to no avail.

"I'll ask Krier about it tomorrow. Anyway..." he continued, doggedly changing the subject. "I wanted to talk to you about...about why I left."

Crap.

"There's nothing you need to explain."

"I don't think you understand what really happened."

"No. I understand." Squall swallowed back something...he wasn't sure whether it was anger or tears. Neither was familiar anymore. "Ellone sent me into the past...into your past. I know everything that happened."

"I didn't --"

"Want me. I know. It's okay."

"No, it isn't." Laguna frowned.

"You found Ellone," Squall shrugged, pushing harder on the old wound. "I was there with her. But you never asked. Never bothered."

Laguna was shaking his head. "You think you know everything, don't you?"

Squall didn't say anything.

"I love you, Squall, despite what you think. You're my son."

"You're not my father. You never have been." It was all Squall could say.

"Better late than never."

"You really think so?" Squall stood up, ready to leave. He didn't want to care about Laguna. He didn't want to feel like he needed a father. He'd done just fine without one for years. Laguna meant nothing to him; he refused to let the horrified and hurt expression on his father's face penetrate the icy shell around his heart.

"I don't know." Laguna looked away.

Feeling the barb despite himself, Squall walked away. He didn't want to hear anymore. Laguna could explain what had happened all he wanted, but it wouldn't change anything. Nothing could give him back the man he had once needed but now no longer had room for. The sound of the door slamming behind him was oddly satisfying, and he walked away without feeling regret.