Title: The Pressure of the Moment
Author: Traxits
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Chapter Rating: K.
Chapter Word Count: 3477 words.
Chapter Summary: The creation of Garden is set in motion, and Isobel prepares Irvine for one more major change in the household.
Author's Note(s): I freely admit to changing some scenes presented in the game just slightly: I took out some of the dialogue between Edea and Squall. I'm not attempting to novelize the game, but instead, I want to reinterpret some of the most important scenes. This is the first (last, if we're talking in terms of game time-line) of them to be presented here.
I know that the summary speaks of Irvine's life post-game. I am aware that it is a little misleading right at this moment. Rest assured that the clock will pick up soon; I want to set down my own head-canon of Irvine's past so that his actions in the later section of the story make sense.
As for Martine's name, I settled on calling him "Martine Dodonna," as Dodonna is his name in the original Japanese version of the game.
[[ … Chapter II: By My Side … ]]
"I'm gonna find Sis!"
"Squall!" Edea watched him dart out of the kitchen into the courtyard, and she peeled off her apron before jogging after him. "Squall, wait!" Ellone was out for the day with the older children, on a trip with Cid for her eleventh birthday; she simply wasn't there for Squall to find.
The bright sunlight made her blink rapidly in an attempt to clear her vision, and when she finally did, she swallowed, noticing a young man standing in the middle of the walkway. He was staring at her, brows drawn, hand on the sword at his hip. The wind ruffled the plush collar of his jacket, blew his dark hair into his eyes. Strangely, he seemed... familiar.
"Excuse me," Edea smiled as she approached him, slowing to a walk. "Have you seen a little boy?"
He glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at her. His gaze was intense, so much so that it was frightening, but she felt no fear. She didn't think that he wouldn't hurt her or the children. His hand loosened its white-knuckled grip on the sword– no, gunblade. She was close enough to actually see the revolver-like grip on the weapon. When he spoke, his voice was rough, tired. It sounded as though he hadn't spoken in days.
"He won't go anywhere."
She smiled a little. That wasn't necessarily her concern, but a sudden flash of light made her stop. Back toward the building, a woman was swaying, hardly able to stand on her own feet. She trembled, taking first one step, then another one. The young man beside Edea immediately drew his sword, pushing her behind him.
"No! Matron, stand back." His eyes flashed, and Edea quickly reached for his arm.
"Stop." She stepped around him, one hand lifting to touch herself. She purposely drew a deep breath to steady herself. "She's dying. She has to release her powers, or she can never rest in peace." She ignored the youth, instead reaching out a hand to the strange woman. She was a sister, no matter who she was. All sorceresses felt that instinctive connection, the understanding that they were the same, that they were the only ones who knew what it was to be feared.
The woman reached for her, gasping, the slightest hint of blood in the corner of her mouth. "I... I can't..." Her breathing was labored, and Edea made a noise as she collapsed in her arms. "I can't disappear yet."
The sound broke Edea's heart, and she closed her eyes as she lifted a hand to smooth over the woman's hair. "Take a breath. I will take them. You can rest now." Strangely enough, it seemed to upset the woman even more, but she was too far gone. She couldn't fight it forever. Edea felt her skin beginning to tingle, and she pulled the woman close, her own eyes closing.
It was invasive, to feel someone flooding in so fully, to feel their thoughts and memories melting away as the power scorched through blood. It was intimate, and Edea's eyes flew open, her pupils glowing gold as she watched helplessly. Accepting powers meant accepting memories to a degree, it meant accepting thoughts and everything that made the sorceress a person.
Images flashed before her, a crowd in Deling, bullet flying straight for her heart, an ice spear flying from her fingers. A strange red building that she knew for some reason that she hated, a youth– no, two– with matching scars across their faces, fighting. She felt tears pressing in behind her eyes, and then the ideas began thrusting through her head. Words that made no sense. Garden. SeeD?
By the time the assault lifted, the woman in her arms was fading, and she touched Edea's face lightly with a single fingertip. She was brushing away a tear that Edea hadn't even realized had escaped her. "When it..." She swallowed, and the blood bubbled up on her lips. "Just give in," she finally whispered, and then she was gone. One moment, she had been a living breathing person, and within the space of a heartbeat, she was a corpse, and then the fire consumed her. It was as though she'd never existed at all.
Edea stayed, kneeling on the ground for a few moments before she lifted her eyes back up to the young man standing before her. She felt a thrill run down her back. "You can't stay here," she murmured. "Can you get back?"
Before he could answer, Squall ran back to her, stopping just out of arm's reach.
"I can't find Sis." He sounded so forlorn, so broken that Edea held out her arms to him. He stepped just close enough for her to rub his shoulders. He looked up at the young man, frowning. "Who are you?"
"He's no one. He doesn't matter." Edea pointedly glanced up at the man, her eyes narrowing. "There's only one Squall permitted here," she added softly. He nodded to her, bowing his head and then lifting his right hand as he snapped to attention. Palm towards his face, all fingers extended and pressed together, he covered his right eye without actually touching it.
"Yes, Matron," he whispered.
The boy in her arms copied him perfectly. It was his own private code with Ellone, with Sis, something that Ellone had said his mother had done, showing off her wedding ring. Edea pulled him closer to her, closing her eyes. There was work to be done, she knew that now.
[[ ... ]]
According to Isobel, it had been seven months since his adoption, but this was the first he'd heard of the boy, thanks to some sleazy tabloid in Deling City. The adoption paperwork said that he was five years old, and Edea had listed his birthday as the day she'd found him: November 24th. Martine had to admit that it was a little disturbing, that he couldn't be completely sure of the child's age, but Edea and Isobel both had reassured him that it was normal. So many children had lost everyone close to them that birthdays were invented for most of the orphans in the shelter.
"Why, exactly did you adopt him in the first place?" He knew that he was frowning, but he couldn't seem to help it. He'd been courting Isobel for almost two years, and now, having survived everything that her father could throw at him, Martine was finally lined up to propose. His own meager funds had been channeled into moving him into her circles, and he was beginning to chafe. The entire thing was wrong, and surely she knew how much he was struggling to keep up with her.
"He needed a home." Isobel leaned a little over the vanity she was sitting at, applying something shiny to her lips. She did that thing that she always did when applying her makeup, pressing her lips together and looking at herself closely in the mirror before she applied another coat.
Martine blew out a breath. "But you only adopted him? Didn't you say he was close to two other children there?" He stood in the doorway to her room, well aware that it would cause a flurry of gossip among her father's servants. It was why the door still stood open.
"They didn't look the part." She pushed herself back from the vanity, turning to smile at him. "Just wait until you see him, dear. He looks like me." She giggled, reaching up to cover her mouth with one hand. Her eyebrows arched, and then she reached out and took his hand. "Oh, don't look at me like that. … This changes nothing, Martine."
"Changes nothing?" He folded his arms over his chest, refusing to let her sway him so easily. He folded to most of her wishes, but this was simply unacceptable. Adopting a child without any sort of warning or consultation? "Isobel, he's a person. It changes everything."
She waved a hand. "Nonsense. Besides, it's not as though I have any sort of obligation to you, do I, Mar?" She tilted her head, looking up at him expectantly. His frown deepened a fraction more, and then he sighed. He couldn't deny her for long. Not as much as he found himself craving to see her smile.
"Well, I was wanting to save it," he started, only to stop when he realized that she wasn't even looking at him any longer. He turned to follow her gaze, and he felt himself still. The boy stood in the hallway, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of his hand. Long brown hair, almost an exact match to Isobel's, tumbled down his back in loose curls. When he lifted his eyes, Martine swallowed. He also had blue eyes. In fact, they looked suspiciously like his own.
He could understand, looking at the boy like this, why the tabloids were in such an uproar over him. Martine's courtship of Isobel was a popular topic, Galbadia's wealthiest heiress interested in a simple military man was a good story, and suddenly she appeared with a boy who could easily have been theirs.
"Irvine, dear, why don't you tell Mr. Dodonna hello?"
The boy hesitated briefly before he ducked his head in some semblance of a bow. "Mr. Dodonna, it is an honor to meet you."
"Isn't he well-mannered?" Isobel looked back up at him, and Martine nodded slowly in agreement. If nothing else, she had done well in training the youth. He squatted down to really look at the child, and he felt something in his chest twist. Irvine had the eyes of a survivor, even if she said he wouldn't speak of his parents. Perhaps he didn't remember them. Perhaps, Martine realized slowly, it was a blessing.
"Isobel, we should talk." He looked at her pointedly, and she sighed before she knelt down and smiled brightly at Irvine.
"Dear, why don't you go wait in the playroom? I'll come by soon and we can watch something together. Pick out a movie."
Irvine continued to study Martine, and of all things, Martine actually felt like he were being sized up. Irvine was a large child, appearing to be at least seven, perhaps even eight. Martine's frown deepened, and it wasn't until he felt Isobel's hand touch the side of his face that he stopped.
"You look so serious all the time. You're going to get old very fast that way." Isobel let her hand slide down to touch his shoulder, and she tilted her head to one side a little. "Just what are you thinking about?"
"Isobel..." Martine knew he sounded grave. He somehow always managed to whenever anything serious came up. He withdrew a small box from his coat pocket, watching her face. Quickly, she hurried to sit in her vanity, crossing her ankles and looking at him expectantly. She looked as though she were posing for a photograph. He couldn't help the smile that spread over his face. Even if he didn't love her, exactly, he was glad that she was the one. It made everything much easier.
He walked over to her chair, dropping to one knee as he proffered the tiny box to her. It was emerald-green, the exact shade of her eyes. Two months of pay had gone into the box alone. She took it from him with dainty fingertips, examining every inch of it.
"Isobel," he said as he covered her hands with his own, guiding her searching fingers to the hidden catch that swung open to reveal the ring. He didn't let himself think about how much money that had cost. "Would you marry me? Be my wife."
She giggled like a girl, reaching up to cover her mouth as she looked at him. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and she nodded before she threw her arms around him. When her mouth was just beside his ear, she added, "Of course I will, Martine."
[[ ... ]]
She had insisted on driving herself to the fair with Irvine, with her son. Her smile widened a fraction at the thought, and she laughed with him as he held her hand, cheerfully pointing out anything that he liked. She encouraged him, and even bought him one of the cowboy hats he coveted. A white one, of course, but then again, what else would her son wear?
As he spotted the chocobos, he tugged on her hand, dragging her over to the corral. The birds were huge, standing easily a few feet taller than she was, and yet, they were making the softest 'kewh' noise that she'd ever heard. She giggled, and when a cowboy poured seed into her hand to hold out, the giant beak was gentle, just barely nipping the skin as the bird picked the seed from her. She quickly motioned for Irvine to climb the fence, and the young man helped steady him at the top. She brushed the seed from her fingers into Irvine's, and he giggled, same as she did at the sensation.
All of the birds were yellow and saddled up, clearly ready for a ride. After another handful of seed, Irvine was on the back of one, the young man leading it around the corral. Irvine was laughing, sitting up as far as he dared in the saddle. Isobel couldn't stop smiling, it seemed. She understood why women had children at all, if they got very many moments like this.
To be perfectly honest, she'd never understood it before. Having children cost everything, a woman's figure, her attention, her entire life, depending on her resources. And yet, somehow, dozens of mothers managed to look perfectly happy. Isobel knew what the secret was now: their love.
Irvine, even being adopted, loved her without question. He had quickly taken to calling her 'mom,' and had quietly told her that he loved her after only months in her home. It had been the easiest heart yet for her to win, although she had to wonder if Edea had something to do with it. All of the children in the orphanage had trusted her implicitly, to the point of blind devotion, and Isobel was certain that it wasn't all natural.
Irvine came around again, waving as he spotted her, and she smiled before waving back. Truth be told, it didn't matter. Irvine loved her, and she didn't care if Edea had somehow encouraged that.
She twisted the ring on her finger, unable to stop herself. Martine loved her, to be sure, but he didn't love her the way Irvine did. He loved her conditionally; so long as she had money and was beautiful and was the perfect creature on his arm, he would love her and support her. Irvine wouldn't care. She was his mother, especially since he didn't seem to remember any other before Edea.
When the ride was done, she took his hand again. There were a few cameras that snapped pictures– the engaged Kinneas heir wearing matching hats with her recently revealed son– and Irvine frowned at the photographers. She wouldn't even have noticed them if he hadn't glared at them. She waved to one, had an image to maintain, after all, and then she and Irvine headed back to the car.
She leaned over and buckled him in, taking his hat off as soon as she did. She tousled his hair, giggling as it fell down into his eyes. Martine wanted to cut it, but she liked it long. Irvine was her son, not Martine's, and she was planning on keeping it that way. For once in her life, she wanted something that was hers, and hers alone. She cranked the car, and they both relaxed into the seats, letting the cool air wash over them. Irvine leaned forward after a moment and pushed the CD into the player. The radio in the car was useless otherwise, as the radio towers had stopped working, world-wide, five or six years prior. She had to admit that she missed the radio.
"Whenever sang my songs..."
Her eyes closed, and she felt her smile fading slowly. Julia's voice always did that to her though, reminded her of the harsh realities of their world. After all, Julia had died in the car wreck a few months ago, leaving behind Martine's closest army buddy, General Fury Caraway and their daughter, Rinoa. She sat up in the seat, buckling herself and pulling off her own hat. After just a minute, she glanced over at Irvine, who was singing quietly along with the music.
"My last night here with you," he traced something on the window, looking out through the glass. "Maybe yes–"
"Maybe no..." She joined in, and he grinned up at her as they started down the road. It was a long drive home, but the day had been worth it, if only for that smile, for that moment. They sang a few other songs on the trip back, and when the manor came into view, she slowed to a stop. They both sat in the car, Irvine looking up at her curiously as she studied it. The desert stretched for miles around it, and she was certain that the rusted heap in the back was the only reason that her father had ever bought the place to begin with.
"Irvine," she finally said, knowing that she couldn't put it off any longer. She had to tell him. He needed to know. "I am going to be married in a few days. … Do you know what that means?"
He shook his head, frowning a little at her tone. "No."
"It means that Mr. Dodonna is going to be moving into the house to live with us. He..." She hesitated, looking over at him. Honestly, she didn't know what to tell him; how much was she supposed to explain to a child? "He loves me very much, and he wants to stay with us so that he can see us more often."
Irvine's frown deepened. She wasn't surprised. He and Martine didn't necessarily get along very well, if only because they were both vying for her attention when they were in the same room. She enjoyed it, to a degree, although she wasn't entirely certain how they'd managed to begin viewing each other as a rival.
"Don't make that face. It'll stick." She reached over and pinched his cheek, laughing. "Mr. Dodonna is a nice enough man, and he's not marrying you. You won't have to see a whole lot of him." She blew out a breath, and when Irvine nodded, she finally drove on up to the house. She sent him inside while she gathered their things from the vehicle.
A hand on her back made her jump, and she quickly spun around, her back to the car. "F-father! You frightened me." She reached up a hand, steadying her heart as she realized who it was. "Whatever is the matter with you?"
"Your soldier. Martine? He has had the most brilliant idea, Izzy." Her father shook as he spoke, and she sighed, touching his elbow as she helped him back inside. She didn't bother correcting him about her 'soldier'.
"What is it, father?"
"He and that other boy... Cid?"
"Edea's husband, Cid Kramer." Isobel smiled a little as she guided him to a chair, then fell back into the one nearest him. He nodded vigorously, and she leaned forward a bit. "What about him?"
"They are going to convert that shelter into a school."
"Shelter?" She frowned, trying to think. "That rusted heap in the back of the house?"
"Hush your mouth. Those are Centra ruins you're talking about." He sniffed loudly before he settled a little more into his chair.
She sighed, reaching up to rub her forehead. "So, Martine and Cid are turning them into schools?"
"Yes. They even have a team of scientists coming out to finish fixing it all up. After almost a hundred years, it will be useable to educate the newest generation!"
She smiled at him, patting his arm. "That's lovely, father, you being able to contribute to society in such a way. I will have to talk to Martine." She left her father humming happily in his chair. He was too old to be dealing with men such as Martine and Cid. She would have to talk to the both of them about involving her father in such plots.
