A/N: I was actually going to wait a while before I posted any stories in progression due to exams and such. But the last time I updated this fic was 30th April and I think many of you believe that the fic is over, it's not.

Just want to take the time out and thank everyone for sticking with my stories and reviewing them, I really do appreciate it a lot. I just don't know how to show it over the net aside from keeping the stories updated. But I would like some help. Since I now have four stories going, FIE is nearing to a close, there's just too much to write. I will also hopefully be going abroad to study in July so I won't have the time to write. So, when you review this chapter, could you just leave the names of the two stories you would like first and second priority. Or, alternatively, you could vote for updates to each story (though you'd have to wait three weeks for one story to be updated. E.g. update FIE week 1, week 2 LBD, week 3 HoaD, week 4 AL, week 5 FIE etc...) or, stop updating these fics and just have FIE updated weekly since it's pretty much in near completion?

Please also find a link to my Live Journal account on my profile, where there's an essay titled Author vs. Fan which many of you should find interesting. It also mentions some elements of FIE some of you have been questioning :)

Thanks again for the read and reviews!

-Niqsta


Chapter 7 - In Memory Of

I sure had a festive week here in Balamb. Finding Squall Loire's diary, meeting his friends, almost being threatened and then to top it off, finding out that the boy in the diary had died way before I had moved in.

Sadly, my second week in Balamb was much slower. It was almost as if finding out there was nothing else to look forward to in Squall's life paralleled my own. The school week just dragged on, lessons were boring as usual, Selphie and I hardly talk in Maths though we sit right next to each other, and apart from the occasional glances I threw at Seifer's scar, nothing was out of the ordinary.

The only bit of 'exciting' news that I had heard of was about Nida's new girlfriend. Guess who that turned out to be? If I hadn't enjoyed myself, I probably would have told him there was nothing more to our friendship. But the honest truth was, he was a real gentleman; he didn't even ask for a kiss! I couldn't lie, I did have fun and Nida was good company. So, rather than telling Xu and the rest that I wasn't his girlfriend, I said that there was a possibility. They seemed to like that anyhow, and I could tell by Nida's sheepish grin that he was just as happy.

I guess the good thing about being Nida's alleged 'girlfriend' was that he felt obliged to drop me off home every day. Waiting for the bus can be a pain, especially when the hoards of kids waiting along with you push past and make you wait twenty minutes for another bus. So, I'm reaping the benefits of being Nida's other half.

I hadn't picked up Squall's diary ever since I had read the last page. In fact, I had more or less chose to ignore it the whole week, focusing on my studies and just keeping myself busy. But here I was, a week later standing at my desk looking at the black diary, complete with a week's worth of dust nestling comfortably on top.

I picked up the cool leather book, blowing at the dust, and opened it up again. It was really weird; it was almost as if I was trying to bring the boy back to life, as if reading about his life would magically bring him back. Reading his entries over again felt like replaying a movie and picking up on all the parts that I hadn't focused on before.

I read Squall's description again; blue eyes and spiky brown hair. The amount of boys in our school with that look, I probably stared at every one of them hoping one of them would be Squall. It was ironic and very depressing in hindsight that none of them were Squall. I'd never be able to see the boy in the diary.

Or would I? I had found the diary in the attic along with a couple of other things. Surely, there could be a picture or a photo album of the Loires and maybe Squall would be in one of them.

With my pulse increasing in excitement, I put the diary safely back into my drawer and headed over to my door. Once in the hallway, I pulled down the string leading to the attic and then attempted to pull down the ladder. Climbing up carefully, I managed to crawl into the attic and stand up. It was dusty and warm up here, a window clearly needed to be opened.

I looked around the wide open room, boxes and crates cluttering the entire floor, almost leaving no walking space. To the left of me were the Loires' boxes and to the right was some of our old stuff.

I made my way over to the Loire's boxes, bending down and reading each box. There was old cutlery in one box marked Kitchen, another box with living room ornaments. There were quite a lot of boxes and crates holding clothes and bed linen. Finally, after about five minutes of searching I had found the box I was looking for.

It was a plastic storage box, filled with photo frames, albums and paintings. The paintings were all landscapes and flowers so I chose to ignore them. I picked up a brown wooden photo frame, blowing again for the small particles of dust that had gotten in through the small cracks in the crate. Looking into the frame from the small light seeping in through the window, I could make out four people. There was a tall man with a woman next to him holding a boy in her arms and a small girl just in between them. The little boy looked about two or three years old and was drinking from a juice cup.

I picked up another frame, again examining a family picture of the two adults, this time with an older boy about the age of nine or ten and a girl just a tad bit older. They were dressed a lot smarter, the women and her daughter in pretty black dresses and the man and his son in tuxes. I knew who the boy was, it was Squall but I just couldn't picture the boy in the photo to be the one who wrote the entries. Unsatisfied, I dug in deeper until I finally found another frame, this time showing me exactly what I was looking for.

There he was, in a black leather jacket and from what I could make out a white t-shirt. His brown hair wasn't as long as I had imagined, just about able to grip, spiked into an almost hedgehog look, a bit like Seifer's but brunet in colour. His eyes were blue, smiling and sparkling into the camera. But best of all was his smile. It was subtle but at the same time really heartfelt. I guessed it was some school picture he had taken since it had Balamb High written at the bottom. And judging by the fact that his forehead held no sign of cuts and bruises, I guess it was taken before his little accident with Seifer. It was good, scars weren't the most attractive thing, but then again, Seifer's did make him look all the more alluring. I guess every scar has a story to tell.

I didn't really know what I was doing, but somehow I found myself gently tracing my finger across Squall's face. It pained me to think someone as good looking as this guy was killed in a fire. It just seemed unfair, he seemed like such a nice guy, a really good friend, a caring brother, a loving son and a complete hottie… and he had to die. Not to say that only ugly people deserve to die.

I couldn't keep my eyes off of the picture. I felt almost in despair, and I felt so stupid for that even more. I didn't even know the guy, yet I was acting so forlorn over his death. I just wished I could have met him once, just to see if we'd get along. His friends didn't like me much, but I had a feeling that we'd have been good friends.

I could hear Dad move around downstairs, probably getting dinner ready. I put the photo albums and frames back into the plastic box and closed the lid. Picking up the photo frame of Squall, I held it against my chest and carefully climbed back down to the first floor.

Having pushed the ladder back up and secured the latch to the attic, I went back into my room and placed the photo frame into my drawer along with the diary. It just seemed right for them both to at least be appreciated by someone.

I took a deep breath, and decided I'd go ahead and do what I had wanted to this whole week. Starting up my laptop, I sat down on my desk and waited for it to load. Once I logged into my account, I opened up a web browser and started typing in my search.

Instantly, pictures of Laguna Loire came up, and I almost kicked myself for my unbelievable ignorance. The amount of times I had seen this guy on T.V and yet didn't think to put two and two together and figure out he was Squall's dad. Seriously, and I wasn't failing any classes at school? How could that be?

Since these were all searches on Laguna Loire's presidency, I typed in 'Loire's house fire' and then hit search. Again pages of pages came up with news articles and a couple of pictures of the house I was living in. Some pictures actually had the scene of the incident, blazing flames being put out. Other pictures were post-incident, showing a very blackened pebble-dashed front of the house.

I found an issue of Timber Maniacs online so clicked on the link and began reading the article.

A sad Goodbye, in memory of the Loved Loires.

By Tim Mann

The funeral of the recently deceased Loires was held at Balamb's Accauld Plains Cemetery this Tuesday; masses of Estharian nationals and a number of Winhill inhabitants were among the guests. What was supposed to be a small funeral had undoubtedly turned into a world homage to the family of a very loved President.

Though prior to the funeral, many had thought the President was sure to bury his family in Esthar or Winhill, it was indeed confirmed a week before the funeral procession that the family's home was Balamb, and that was where they were most happy.

The President showed many tears, his eyes were far from dry throughout the service, but the courageous President held his emotions together and finally said goodbye to his loved ones.

Raine Loire, his wife of twenty years, along with their daughter Ellone and son Squall were caught in an unfortunate fire at their home in Balamb Villas on the 2nd of March, 00:30. When speaking to the President after the funeral, he had commented that the hardest death was that of his son. While his wife and daughter stood no chance, having been barricaded in the burning house, President Loire had managed to bravely pull his son out of the flames. Sadly, the sixteen year old Balamb High student had suffered massive Carbon Monoxide poisoning as smoke had filled his lungs, and later died in hospital.

It was indeed a very sad event, Galbadians, Estharians and Balamese citizens will surely unite and remember the loving family of Laguna Loire.

We, Timber Maniacs wish all the commiserations to President Loire, wish blessings upon his family, and support him in the upcoming election results in May.

In loving memory of Raine, Ellone and Squall Loire.

16th March


It was a bit before ten and I was watching the second half of the MogMog Moogles vs. Mach Chocobos* second leg soccer match with Dad. I sat on one of the leather armchairs, with a fluffy quilt over me, drinking my warm milk and nibbling on a couple of Oreos. Dad was sipping his tea and yelling at the soccer players, occasionally telling me what strategies would suffice for a goal.

"Ah-ha! He scored!" Dad cheered, almost spilling his tea. "What a shot. A really good shot."

"Elnoyle Messi is their best player," I commented.

Soccer was the one sport I could actually sit and watch and not feel bored. I guess I just couldn't get enough of tall muscular guys falling over one another. But jokes aside, I liked the occasional little tricks they pulled and of course when the best teams played, the gruelling ninety minutes of many attempts to get goals.

"Nah, he's a very good player, but a team can't depend on just one player. Diablos Villa is also very good; he would have won the Golden Boot last year," Dad argued from his chair.

"Hm, but I don't like Diablos Villa, he looks like a devil," I answered back, though I knew how stupid my rebuttal sounded. Dad just waved off my comment, calling me crazy.

"Hey, why do the Mach Chocobos only have ten players?" I enquired, only just noticing the number of players on the opposing side.

"Vysage Persi got sent off," Dad quickly answered before sipping his tea.

"So, if they draw will it go to penalties?" I asked, hoping they would draw. I loved penalties, purely because it messed up the system and allowed a really crap team to actually get through to the next round.

"No, this is the second leg; Mach Chocobos already played on their field and scored two to one. If they draw here, their other goal will get them through," Dad explained.

"Ah," I said in understanding, before letting out a tired yawn.

"Haha, only one minute to go, MogMog Moogles are in," Dad cried excitedly, grinning like mad.

I was glad he was using his retirement time so wisely.


It couldn't have been earlier than two in the morning when I heard voices downstairs. I was half asleep when I heard quick sharp voices in my sleep. I willed myself to open my raw eyes, looking directly into the small crack of light coming in from my slightly ajar door. I cursed myself and closed my eyes again, but the voices were keeping me up.

I threw the covers off, rubbing my neck before pushing myself up and standing upright. I blinked a couple of times getting accustomed to the light, and made my way towards my bedroom door. Opening the door fully, the passageway light brightly shone onto my eyes, resulting in me having to squint my way to the stairs.

I slowly descended the stairs, hearing the voices get louder. I thought maybe Dad was watching TV when I finally realised he was talking to someone. I stopped halfway down the stairs and craned over the banister to see if I recognised the voice.

"They're on to me, Fury, I had to run!" a voice said in panic.

"Calm down! You'll wake Rinoa up!"

"They're on to me! I just know it; I found all this documentation on my whereabouts! They're on to me!" the voice kept repeating in a frenzy.

I heard someone move about before I heard my Dad speak.

"Quieten down! Rinoa will wake up and I don't want her seeing you here like this," Dad harshly spoke though trying to keep his voice down.

"Fury," the voice said sounding hurt, "you have to help me. What are they going to do to me?" he broke into a sob.

I heard my Dad sigh before replying. "Martine, just calm down. We need to assess everything first."

"I don't want to imagine what he's capable of," the voice sobbed. "I'll lose everything."

My eyes were fully wide awake, my ears just as sensitive. I moved down the stairs slowly, hoping that I didn't make a sound and have them notice my presence. Carefully, I crept along the wall until I got to the bottom of the stairs. Then, making my way across the cold wooden floor, I stood just outside the living room door and quietly listened in.

"Martine, look at me. Look at me!" Dad said with force. "Did anyone follow you?" he asked in agitation.

The voice sniffed and swallowed before replying. "No. I was safe Fury; I covered my tracks and made sure no one spotted me. I've been travelling by night and I've kept all contact minimum."

"Who did you contact?" Dad asked with curiosity.

"Who'd you think? It's done. They should find his suicide note, then in a couple of days they'll begin to search for the body," Martine replied.

I heard more movements, sounding like someone sitting down on the sofa. I heard Martine cough in short rasps while my Dad just let out a shuddering breath.

"It's started, hasn't it?" Dad asked solemnly.

The room was silent for the next few minutes; I couldn't hear what they were doing while they sat in silence. The only thing I could make out was Martine's harsh breathing and his occasional raspy cough.

"I could use a drink," Martine eventually spoke. "You got any whiskey?"

"Haven't touched the stuff in years," Dad scoffed. "Nether should you. We'll need to have a clear head if this is to be successful."

"What do you think they'll be planning?" Martine asked in a hushed tone.

"I have no idea."

I moved my ear closer to the door, trying to make out their movements. The voice belonged to Martine, one of the members of the Galbadian Parliament. What he was doing in my house at two in the morning, I had no clue, but I could tell from the panicked voices it wasn't something good.

"Do you think they'll believe it's suicide?" I heard Dad asked. "I wasn't so sure with the idea."

"Deling is bound to believe it; he's a gullible prick," Martine answered back. "Not sure about Jugo, he'll question it undoubtedly."

"The entire family dead in one year," Dad spoke quietly, seemingly to himself.

"Happens, it's believable. Losing everything you have, surely it would make a man suicidal," Martine argued, before coughing again.

"I hope you're both right. If this turns into a murder case, we'll have bigger fish to fry."

I remained standing there silently wondering what they were conversing about. It was all truly confusing; I almost thought I was dreaming. What was all this talk about suicide and murder? Did Martine kill someone? Did someone commit suicide? And who were these people they were afraid of? I could feel my heartbeat rise, I hadn't felt this stressed since the toilet incident back at school a week ago.

The half open door creaked causing me to jump the minute Dad came out of the living room and caught me standing in the hallway.

"Rinoa, what are you doing awake?" he asked sternly.

"Ah," I paused from the shock, looking at him in fear. "I heard shouting," I explained like a small child.

"Go to bed. This doesn't concern you," he ordered, taking my arm and leading me back to the stairs.

I stared at him briefly, before briskly walking up the stairs and returning to my room. I shut the door tightly, knowing Dad would be at the bottom of the stairs waiting for the click of the door before he returned to his guest.

I lay back down in bed, replaying their conversation in my head, though it was slightly difficult to remember it all. Still, from what I could gather, it definitely wasn't something positive. Martine had run away from Galbadia, he had travelled in the late of night to Balamb and somehow snuck into our home. This definitely wasn't good.

But whatever the situation was, Dad wasn't sending him packing, and that was definitely worrying. It was out of character for my Dad, the former Galbadian General, the enforcer of Law.

I just lay in bed unable to hear what was being said downstairs. I remained awake for almost an hour just so I could look out of my window and see which direction Martine headed off. However, somehow within that time while they continued their silent conversation downstairs, I had fallen asleep.

Once I had woken up in the morning, Martine was gone, along with all the traces of his visit.


Dad hadn't said a thing the next day, in fact he just went about the day acting as if the incident last night hadn't even happened. I half believed that I had dreamt the whole thing. Well I would have converted to that belief, had I not noticed clumps of mud on the welcome mat near the front door. But Dad just brushed it up and continued his daily business, making light conversation and asking what I wanted for breakfast.

It was after lunch when I heard some movement downstairs and went to investigate. Walking into the kitchen, I found Dad had moved the washing machine and tumble dryer into the kitchen.

"Why'd you bring those in here?" I asked with perplexity.

"I think I heard some mice crawling about in the basement," Dad replied, out of breath and clearly fatigued.

"Ew!" I shrieked, clinging onto myself.

"Don't worry, I set some traps. Just do the washing up here, I think the damp from the machines are attracting them," Dad replied, shutting the basement door and slipping on the safety lock.

I stood in my position watching him move around the kitchen, wiping down the counter and putting away some of the dishes that were drying on the dish rack. I walked over and picked up a drinking glass, walking to the fridge and taking out a carton of juice.

Walking over to the small island where we took our breakfast, I began pouring my drink while glancing at Dad from time to time. I was wondering whether I should bring up the conversation about Martine or if it was safer to play at ignorance.

Whatever decision I made in the end didn't matter. Dad announced he was going to lie down for a while and left the kitchen. I sat down at the breakfast bar, staring out of the kitchen and toward the front door. Funny how my first week in Balamb was spent trying to figure out The Fated Children's secret. Now I had to try and figure out my father's!