Author's Note: Ack, a month between chapters. Well, I did post a one-shot in the meantime, so it wasn't like I was completely off with my writing. Anyhoo, read on! And thank you Dr. Seuss for letting me borrow a couple words.
7. Respite
Lights rushed past as he drove through the cold November evening, the ride home silent save for the steady rumble of tires on the street. The city was reawakening to the Thursday nightlife that happened upon its posh neighbourhoods, people gracing the sidewalks in a twisted dance of emotions, full of excitement and enthrallment. Once upon a time, he would have yearned to be a part of it all, but that was in the past, and now he was here, partnered only with his own shortcomings.
He pulled into the parking lot of his complex, letting out a small sigh before stepping out to get Ellie from the back seat. She looked up at him with honest eyes, full of worry for all the things she didn't understand. The sincerity in her expression was what hurt the most—he felt like a burden to a four-year-old, a new low. She stood silently beside him as he grabbed her backpack, and a part of him couldn't help but dislike the quiet. It wasn't right, he was supposed to be happy, she wasn't meant to worry about him, he was her father, he needed to be stronger than this...
"Let's get you inside. It's cold out here," he said, breath visible in the crisp air. She nodded and they made their way to the front door of his townhouse. He handed her the backpack, ushering her into the warmth. "I'll be in soon. I'm going to have a smoke, okay?"
She stuck out her tongue and made a disgusted face. "Ew! Mommy says she thinks you're gross when you do that!"
I think it's gross that your mother is going out with that faux-hawked ass, he thought snidely, and bit his tongue to keep the words in check. "Never mind, Ellie. Go inside. I'll be there in a second, okay?"
He sat on the doorstep and lit up a cigarette, nerves coming to a crescendo as he gazed up at the sky. The glow of the city overpowered the stars as clouds wrapped listlessly around the half-moon. A light breeze pulled through the air, and he tightened his coat around him as not to surrender any more body heat. His street was hushed and empty, only a few stray cars passing by, despite being just a short distance from Deling's vibrant Gastowne district.
If not for Ellie, he might have headed out into the fray for the night in hopes of clearing his head. Thoughts of Rinoa with another man assaulted his senses and made him nauseous, uncomfortable, angry. What pained him the most, however, was not that she could date a man who was better than him, but rather, the fact that she was dating a man who was better than him. Old wounds felt fresh again as a million "if onlys" rushed through his mind, rising like mercury. He took a long pull on his cigarette and tried to let the nicotine abbreviate his disquiet.
...But something in his head could hear that man, voice smooth like satin, captivating, and Rinoa's infectious laughter, and Ellie saying "Hi Aeron", and he could feel himself evaporate from their lives as if he were never there to begin with, and in his heart, he knew he didn't deserve them anyways—
Finishing his smoke, he put the butt into an ashtray on the side of the step before retreating back into his home. He crossed the landing, making his way into the living room where Ellie sat on the sofa, patiently waiting for his arrival. He slumped down beside her and let out an exasperated breath, mental exhaustion catching up with him. He felt suddenly and acutely aware of how drained he was, the absolute sum of a week he'd rather forget. All he wanted was a brief respite, a means of escaping the demons that cut through his emotions until they bled.
"You look sleepy, Daddy," Ellie observed. "Are you sure you're okay?"
He looked down at her; she was wearing a look of genuine concern for him, apprehension engrained in her small features. Forcing a small grin, he tried to mask his unease with empty assurances. "I'm fine. I just had a really long week at work, and it's made me a bit tired. Don't worry about it, okay?"
"Okay..." She looked unconvinced, but said nothing more on the subject.
Silence filled the air. Usually, he wouldn't have minded—he might have even welcomed it—but coming from his daughter, it felt uncomfortable, and even a little strained. He felt compelled to break it.
"Your grandfather is coming to visit next weekend," he said, hoping to stir something—anything—in her. "He is very excited to see you."
She perked up. "Grandpa Laguna?"
"Yes, Grandpa Laguna." A part of him didn't like addressing his father like that; it felt like acceptance, and he still wasn't quite sure he could do that, even now. "He wants to know what we should all do while he is here, so we'll have to come up with something that's fun."
Another hush washed over them. She hadn't asked if she could turn on the television, nor did she request anything else to entertain herself with. Something was troubling her, but what exactly it was, he couldn't quite identify. He wished there was a SeeD code he could refer to for situations like these, but Garden didn't teach its cadets how to raise children.
The very idea that she was a part of him, his own flesh and blood, was still a strange concept that he couldn't quite grasp... She was an impossibly foreign entity to him at times, and yet, so familiar. And here she was, quiet and reserved like he'd never seen her before, a thick barrier of silence settled between them. Tentatively, he tried out words in his head, hoping to think of a way to find out what had her so disconnected, so...
So much like me.
And then he realized that the only way to find out was to simply ask.
"Ellie, are you alright?"
She made a pensive look, the same look that Rinoa made when she was contemplating how to say something he didn't want to hear.
"Daddy," she began, drawing out the word slightly longer than normal, "why don't you and Mommy love each other? In pre-school, the other kids' mommies and daddies are married and love each other. I want you and Mommy to be together, too. Why does she want to be with Aeron instead of you? Is it because of me?"
Squall's heart sank in that moment and he suddenly felt guilt crash over him like a tidal wave. Did his actions and anxieties make her feel this way, like she was the reason he and Rinoa had fallen apart? He felt mortified at the idea. Pulling her close to him, he looked her directly in those pale eyes that said all the things she didn't have words for. When his voice came out, it was soft, barely above a whisper. "Ellie, you know that I love you, right? More than anyone else."
She nodded.
"And Mom loves you, too."
She nodded again.
"Well, sometimes, things don't work out between moms and dads, and they end up fighting and unhappy with each other," he spoke slowly and clearly so that she could fully absorb what he was saying. "Sometimes, moms and dads have to separate because it's better than staying together and being angry all the time. And I'm sure you don't want to be stuck in a place where everyone is angry all the time, do you?"
She shook her head. "...No."
"I made big mistakes that made Mom really mad at me, and she decided that it would be better if she didn't stay with me anymore." His throat became strained and his tongue felt resistant as he forced himself to continue. "Don't ever think that Mom and I are not together because of you, because that's not even close to the truth. We are just two different people who want different things, but we both love you more than anything, and that's what really matters, okay?"
"Okay, Daddy," she said softly. "So, does that mean you're happy?"
He sighed. She was unabashed and honest, completely unaware of the weight of her question as it sat heavy in the room. He closed his eyes for a moment and offered her a pallid smile. "Of course I am," he said, "I have you, don't I?"
Rinoa placed a hand over her ever-growing abdomen, smiling as she felt the slight movements of the baby. It was so foreign, the feeling of another living human being inside of her. She was thirty-two weeks in, now, anticipation rising as her due date drew ever nearer. Over and over, she told him about how excited she was for this baby to come into the world, expressing all of her hopes and aspirations for the child, and all of her curiosities, too. What would its favourite colour be? Favourite food? Hobbies? Talents? Would it have big dreams, goals for its life?
Squall wanted to share in her excitement, he truly did, but the only thing he could feel was fear. He hadn't intended to get Rinoa pregnant; they weren't even married, and he certainly was not ready for fatherhood. What if he was a terrible parent? What if the child didn't like him, or resented him, like he did with his own father? His worries overrode any sort of enthusiasm he could muster up, and he felt terrible for it.
Rinoa had told him time and again not to panic, that everything would be fine and that he'd fall into the role naturally, but no matter what she said, she couldn't quell his doubts. Regardless, he hoped she was right, and that by the time the baby was born, his fears would dissipate.
"I've been thinking about names again," she said.
"Oh?" came his reply. They had spoken occasionally about what to call the child, but neither could land on a name that they both loved. It didn't help that they had chosen to leave the gender as a surprise, forcing them to double up on ideas. The only thing that they had agreed on was the order of the last names. Heartilly-Leonhart was less redundant sounding than Leonhart-Heartilly, splitting up the "hart" and "heart". Selphie had the idea of combining their surnames to be Leonhartilly, but it was quickly dismissed. He put his arm around her and felt her body lean into his own. "What have you come up with?"
"Okay, well, I was thinking about using my mother's middle name, Elizabeth, if it's a girl, or maybe Graham if it's a boy." She looked into his eyes for signs of approval. "What do you think?"
He was quiet for a moment, trying out the names in his head. Graham Heartilly-Leonhart... It was alright, he supposed, but Elizabeth Heartilly-Leonhart sounded a little too brusque for his tastes. "I don't mind Graham for a boy," he concluded, before adding, "but I'm not too sure about Elizabeth, no offense. It sounds a little harsh, or classic, or...I dunno."
"Hm, I guess so." She let out a small sigh.
The air between them was tense; it had been that way for the better part of the last year, it seemed. The love that had been so present in their earlier years was missing, and all that was left was vacuous space and memories of better times. Feeling her inside of his grasp would have normally come as a comfort to him, but now it felt like an empty gesture, one of necessity built on the pillars of their expectations. It made the idea of having a child even more daunting.
"Even still...," she continued, looking over to him with large brown eyes and a vacant smile. "I would like some part of my mother's name to be in there."
He nodded. It was so hard to plan out the future with someone who didn't want to spend it with him. It was the elephant in the room, unspoken, and he was painfully aware of it. The way she shied away from him in public, the way she'd look right through him when they made love, the way she spoke with him, like he was a stranger and not her knight... Their bond was breaking, and he could feel it, every rip in the seam.
"My mother's middle name was Alexandria," he heard himself saying, if for no other reason than to fill the void.
"Sounds too much like the GF," she replied, her voice carrying a blunt tone that sounded strange on her. "We'd constantly be correcting people on the origins of her name. It would get really tedious."
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
More silence. Squall had liked the name Alexandria, but he could see her point; perhaps it wasn't appropriate. His mind starting playing around with the names, in the same manner Selphie would have, mixing the two together in odd combinations. Alexandreth? That sounds dreadful, he thought, scowling. Elizabia? Ridiculous. Alebeth? No, what are you thinking?
"Ellandria," he blurted. "Ellandria Heartilly-Leonhart."
"Huh, Ellandria?" Rinoa perked up. "I kinda like that. It's like the best of both worlds, with a bit of your sister's name in there too. Ellandria..." The name sounded like music rolling off Rinoa's tongue. "Ellie for short."
The faintest grin appeared on his lips as he found himself repeating the name.
"Ellie..."
Squall tucked Ellie into her bed, in the room he had reserved just for her. It was a stark contrast from the rest of the townhouse, which was coloured in neutrals with all black furnishings. Ensuring that the small space felt like her own, he had gone to great lengths to decorate it despite how much it differed from his own tastes. The walls were painted a cheery yellow and adorned with paintings of chocobos and moombas that Selphie had made for her as a baby shower gift. Books and toys sat tucked away on shelves he had purchased from a garage sale and painted bright pink, marking his only artistic endeavour since his disastrous attempt at drawing years ago.
Ellie's tired eyes struggled to stay open as he read to her an eccentric story about the vastness of imagination. It had been one of his favourite tales as a child, but ironically, its message had become all but lost on him as he grew older and more jaded, the teachings of Garden taking its place in his head.
"'Think left, think right and think low and think high. Oh, the things you can think up if only you try'," he narrated the final line, watching out of the corner of his eye as she dozed away into slumber for the night.
He hoped that Ellie would never lose her sense of wonder and imagination like he had. The world could be an amazing place if she wanted it to be, and he wanted so much more for her than his grey life. She didn't need to enrol in Garden, or even worse, become a SeeD. She was too innocent, too perfect to be tainted by battle tactics and para-magic studies and guardian forces and all that training, day-in, day-out. The very thought of it made him ill.
He never knew he could become so comfortable with someone that he had so greatly feared. He remembered when Rinoa had first told him that she was pregnant, and how frightened he had felt at the time. He couldn't imagine his life without Ellie now, and didn't want to. She gave him purpose and reason where everything else had failed. Shutting the book, he kissed her on the forehead before retreating to the living room.
He slunk back onto the couch and closed his eyes. Now that Ellie had fallen asleep, he was left with only himself and his maddening thoughts. He morbidly pictured Rinoa and Aeron together on whatever type of date they were having and grimaced. He had never considered himself to be the possessive type, but he couldn't help the rising jealousy he felt towards the too-suave man.
I'm gonna drive myself fucking crazy if I keep worrying about it, he told himself. Just. Stop. Thinking.
His brain shut off for a total of two and a half seconds.
This would probably be a lot easier to deal with if I had a girlfriend. He stopped to replay the words in his head again, and groaned. Because dating is definitely my forté. Who wouldn't want a self-loathing mess to call their own? Ladies, come hither...
He glanced toward the kitchen and considered diving into his liquor cabinet again. It would be so easy to just let the alcohol do its magic and drown himself out. There was still a quarter left of that bottle of vodka that had his name written all over it; or maybe he would dip into the gin and mix it up with some tonic water; or there was that rum...
...And then if Ellie wakes up and sees you drinking like the pathetic moron you are? Yeah, that's smart. His eyes traced a path from the kitchen to his computer, and to the pile of notes that cluttered his desk. The casework was calling him, begging for the attention he did not have. There was so much left to do: write a report on the interview, follow up with the family, strategize their next move, canvas for more witnesses, and interview more of Leigh's friends, just to start.
He got no further than having a stare-off with the corner of the room. He memorized how the tungsten light from his lamp splashed over the dark grey-brown walls, the shape of the small crack that ran along the seam, the lines etched into the crown mouldings, the way his desk sank approximately three millimeters into the carpet...
Procrastination never used to be a part of his vocabulary, but now it felt like it was all he could do to keep himself from becoming overwhelmed to the point of being checked into an asylum. The dissonance that echoed through him was certainly testing the limits of his sanity, even though it was rooted in petty insecurities. In the back of his head, he knew that the victims' families deserved better than this, that their problems greatly outweighed his own, and that he owed them an answer. But that knowledge didn't leave the back of his head, allowing room for his own personal issues to take centre stage.
If I could just not be crazy about Rinoa from now on, all of my problems would be solved. He let the thought sink in for a moment. Wow, that sounded completely pitiful.
She wants—no, deserves—someone better than me. The sooner I accept that, the better... Well, if she considers loads of hair gel and a whole bottle of cologne better, that's her problem. He set his glasses on the coffee table and pinched the bridge of his nose to ward of the headache that was trying to make its presence felt. When he opened his eyes to a blur where his living room should have been, he couldn't help but groan again. Well, at least he isn't fucking blind. That probably counts for something.
He blamed his apathy on his sobriety, and he found it increasingly difficult to ignore the beck and call of his aforementioned liquor cabinet. Drinking the feeling away would have been a lot easier than digging down to the root of the problem: himself. A strained glance at his watch told him it was only 20:17, but all he wanted was to drift away for the night, if for nothing more than to shut his thoughts off for a few precious hours. He let an exasperated sigh escape him as he turned to lay on his side with his face ungracefully half-shoved into the back of the sofa, hoping to will himself to sleep.
The sun shone brightly, its warmth intangible in the cold late autumn air. December was just around the corner, and as Ellie had oh-so-subtly reminded him, that meant Christmas was drawing near. The holidays were complicated for Squall, and while his daughter took much delight the celebrations, it was a pain to try and organize. Who got Ellie on the twenty-fifth? Was his family coming to Deling or did they have to fly out to Esthar? What about New Year's Eve? If it was just him, he would've written it all off and spent the holidays alone, but that wasn't the case, and he wasn't ready to rob her of a pivotal part of her childhood just to fulfill his own selfish wants.
Quistis had joined them as they walked through Gastowne, which possessed all the hustle and bustle of a Friday afternoon. Dark circles underlined her eyes and her hair was let down, her pantsuit traded in for black leggings and a warm jumper; the telltale signs that she was mired in her own exhaustion. Despite it all, her expression shone like relief, and he suspected that she was grateful for the chance to get her mind away from the frustration that was James Grayson.
Ellie skipped merrily a couple steps ahead of the two SeeDs, far away enough to feel free but not to escape her father's reach. Bright orange leaves littered the streets, which she excitedly kicked her feet into, sending them swirling into the air around her. Quistis chuckled lightly to herself, noting the contrast between father and daughter. Ellie was brightly dressed from head to toe, bouncing around, and loving every minute of just being, while Squall walked behind her, clad in black, the ever vigilant parent.
"Aunty Quisty, watch!" the little girl pleaded, before ploughing her boot through another pile of leaves. "Look how pretty they are!"
"Yes, very nice," she said, before turning her attention to Squall. A brooding look tainted his features, pronouncing the crow's feet that were starting to form in the corners of his eyes. She nudged him lightly. "Why don't you cheer up? It's a beautiful day."
"What?" He shot a glance back at her, and was met with her laughter.
Quistis had to calm herself before continuing, "You're thinking too much. If anyone should know, it's me. Why not enjoy the moment for once?"
Squall shook his head. "Can't turn my brain off, I guess."
"Typical."
"What about you?" His question took her by surprise. "Surely you must be somewhat shaken by what happened the other night?"
"'Somewhat shaken' doesn't even scratch the surface," she conceded. "I wish we had gotten more time to prepare. That was a disaster."
He dug around in his coat pocket for his cigarettes. "As far as James goes, I don't know what to do. A lie isn't enough probable cause to be even remotely useful. We can't search him, we can't tail him... Legally, we're screwed. But," he paused to light his smoke, "I don't wanna wait for another girl to fall victim, either. We'll just have to work from another angle."
"You know, in a lot of ways, this is harder than any typical mission," she confessed. "When the Headmaster assigned me to help you, I had thought you were getting rusty or losing your touch or something, but now I can appreciate how difficult this has really been. I mean, the evidence has been marginal at best; there isn't enough to really nail it down to a single individual."
He feigned disbelief. "You mean to say that you were doubting me?"
She smiled coyly. "Me? Never."
"Now I know you're lying." He let a small sigh escape him, and the humour was gone from the air again. "The main thing we should do right now is ask Leigh's mother to go to the media and make a public plea." He took a slow drag off his cigarette. "It hasn't really worked in the past, though, so I'm not gonna hold my breath about it."
"Yeah, I guess so," she consented. "I'll get it all arranged."
"You don't have to. I can handle it."
"Squall, please." She motioned to Ellie. "Don't waste what little time you have with her over things that others are more than capable of doing."
He was silent for a moment, eyes resting on the little girl in front of them. He was losing track of his priorities again. Ellie was supposed to come first, before the investigation, before SeeD, before himself. One of the main reasons he had lost Rinoa was because he could never put work aside for her, and the time that should have been spent with her was diverted to other matters that were, while seemingly pressing at the time, trivial in the grand scheme of things.
"Seven long fucking years of waiting for you."
I won't do the same thing to you, Ellie. I promise.
She nudged him again. "Well?"
"Schedule it for tomorrow if you can," he said finally. "I want it on all the evening news broadcasts."
"Aye-aye, Commander."
"God, Quisty," he snorted and waved a dismissive hand. "It was bad enough that you called me that during the interview. Don't make a habit out of it."
"Maybe..." A smirk found its way to her lips. "Do you think you'll ever take on that role seriously again? You know, get back into doing regular missions and working deployment and tactics and all that fun stuff?"
"Don't forget bureaucracy and office politics and brown-nosing," he added sarcastically, before pausing to think. He shook his head after a moment's time. "I guess I miss the battles and the adrenaline and all that. Sometimes, anyways."
"So, yes, then?"
"I never wanted to be a SeeD forever," he said frankly. "It was just something I was gonna do until I figured out what to do with my life. I didn't wanna be here by this age... I—I think maybe I just got caught up in it, and it was kinda hard for me to envision a life where Garden didn't play a role. Maybe that's what the training is supposed to do? Make you one-dimensional?" He stopped himself and let out a dry, humourless laugh. "I don't know what I'm saying, really."
"I know exactly what you mean, though," she offered. "If you wanna know the truth, I turned down my last mission. I was supposed to be reassigned a couple months ago to lead a squad on some counter-terrorism operation in Timber. Honestly, Squall, I'm tired combat, tired of security detail, tired of running field exams...just...tired."
Squall wanted to say "you look it" but decided it would have landed him a swift kick in the shin, and he didn't want her to scuff up his jeans. Instead, he nodded in quiet understanding. She had said all the things he had felt about Garden over the last few years, and he was glad to know that he wasn't entirely alone in his sentiments.
"I don't wanna be a SeeD by the time I turn thirty." He had thought it a million times over in his head, but to actually hear himself say it aloud was a different story altogether. It sounded foreign, strange, almost taboo.
Quistis looked up at him, blue eyes brightening. "Then don't."
He smiled and felt a slight twinge of satisfaction in himself. If he was ten years younger, the idea of being anything other than a SeeD would have scared him. Over and over he had told himself that without SeeD, he would have nothing, no career, no purpose, and then what? It had been such a daunting thought to toy with, but now, he felt liberated in being able to believe that he could move past life with Garden. His eyes moved over Ellie again, affirming that it would be the right decision, when the time came.
"After this case is wrapped up, which is hopefully soon," he said as he finished his cigarette, "I'll probably resign. I've only had three missions since I moved: a small peacekeeping stint in Timber, security detail for my father in Esthar—which I think was more of a pity job than anything—and this investigation. Cid's too choked with me to offer me any large-scale operations, but I don't think I'd want to do them anyways."
"I see..." Quistis shrugged. "What do you think you wanna do afterwards, then? Do you have anything in mind?"
"No idea," he admitted. "But oddly enough, that doesn't really bother me anymore. I guess I'll figure it out when I get to that point." He eyed her for a moment from behind his glasses, and noticed for the briefest moment how much older she looked now, small strands what he swore looked like silver lacing through strawberry blonde, new lines tracing her smile, her frown. "...What about you? Do you think you'll ever quit?"
She shrugged. "Hopefully. It would be nice to put it all behind me and move on. I don't see it happening anytime soon, though, if I'm being honest."
"What do you think you would do afterwards?" he asked as he glanced over at her again, and was met with a playful look.
"Hm, I could tell you...," she started, "if you tell me what you were gonna say at the diner the other night."
"It was stupid." He tried to disregard the topic. "Really, don't worry about it."
"If it's so stupid then why is it still bugging you?"
Because I was stupid. Because I made a bunch of bad choices. Because I didn't care when I should've. There are too many reasons for me to count. There were a thousand shards of thoughts swarming through his mind, vying to get out, yet he voiced none of them. He came close the other night, but he was vulnerable then. However, he couldn't stifle that little voice in his head that was urging him to open up to her, telling him that she was his sister in everything but blood and that at the end of the day, perhaps it would not be as bad as he thought.
"I'd rather not talk about this right now."
"Talk about what, Daddy?" Ellie halted her skipping and looked up at him with big, curious eyes.
He scooped her up from where she was standing and swiftly put her on his shoulders, drawing out a peal of laughter from the girl; it was a sound he would never tire of no matter how many times he heard it.
"Nothing important, Ellie," he told her. "Nothing at all..."
