A Promise for Christmas

Chapter Eight


"I never 'learned' the truth about Santa. But I stopped believing in him the day he stopped listening to me."

Neither Rinoa nor Ellone commented. Rinoa bent her head to her task, her fingers steady as she sewed the furry white trim to the hem of the Mrs. Claus suit. Ellone turned to look out the window overlooking the main palatial gardens, decorated now with lights and gilded trimming. "There's magic on Christmas," she murmured, smiling at the gaggle of children playing by a tinkling fountain. Their laughter sparkled in the air. She turned back to Squall, her smile guileless. "Thank you for coming to protect that magic."

Ellone crossed to him, lifting onto her tiptoes. He bent automatically, and she kissed his cheek with maternal tenderness. "I'm going to check on Uncle Laguna and make sure he eats something before he gets on the sleigh. Knowing him, he'll forget and then have a dizzy spell in the middle of the parade. You make sure you eat something, too." Her eyes danced with humor as she stepped back, out of reach. "Mrs. Claus is fond of peppermint cookies, I hear."

She left, and in the ensuing silence, Squall gazed down at Rinoa's bent head. He frowned in mild irritation. "I know you want to talk about it."

She looked up, eyes wide in feigned innocence. "Talk about what?"

Squall nearly snorted but shook his head. If she wanted to pretend to avoid the matter at hand, he wouldn't argue with her. Like she'd said, it wasn't worth ruining the day with a fight. "Never mind."

Rinoa hummed as she put the finishing touches to his skirt. She stepped back and circled Squall appraisingly. She nodded in satisfaction. "I think you're ready."

Squall looked at the mirror apprehensively. He looked stupid. It was some small comfort that the dress provided full coverage, from the high neck down the long sleeves to the ankle-skimming skirt. It was also heavy, and Squall hesitantly stepped off the stool and practiced walking. The skirt dragged around his legs, giving the illusion of nudity with the cool air swirling around his bare legs. He checked the hidden slit that allowed him access to his gunblade, strapped to his leg.

"Mrs. Claus doesn't swagger," Rinoa commented helpfully. She sat on the abandoned stool, pushing pins into a pincushion. Her eyes were amused as Squall attempted to take her feedback into consideration. "Take smaller steps," she suggested. "That way you won't rip out the hem of your skirt."

Because they were alone, Squall made a face at her. "This is ridiculous," he muttered. His face was hot, and he scowled. The last thing he needed now was to find he was blushing like some stupid pre-adolescent kid at the first sight of the female body.

"It's part of the magic," Rinoa contradicted. She set the pincushion aside and rose, graceful, to come stand by Squall. They looked out the window much as Ellone had minutes before, watching the preparations in full swing below. "When the kids of the city look at you, they won't be seeing you. They'll see what they want to see. That's magic."

"That's delusional," Squall retorted. "Why'd they want to see some fat lady in a dumb dress, anyway?"

Rinoa shrugged. "It's make-believe, but to a child, there's nothing more real than Christmas." Impatient, she tugged on Squall's arm. "Think back, Squall. Try to remember a time before all this bad happened in your life. Can't you remember what it was like to hope? There was something about Christmas that made you giddy and excited. Nothing better than Christmas morning," she murmured, half to herself now as her thoughts turned to the Christmases before her mother had died. "Waking up and knowing there were presents under the tree, and hot chocolate with breakfast. Knowing Santa had been there, and the reindeer…" She trailed off and glanced at Squall. "Surely there was a time for you, even."

"Maybe." Squall knew better than to deny it. Something deep inside fluttered at Rinoa's words, a memory suppressed. Yearning, hope, expectation. Joy. He turned to face Rinoa. "I'm not a kid anymore, Rinoa."

She framed his face with her hands. His expression was so serious; on the surface, so stern. But she could see beyond that, see beneath the mask he wore so handily. "We're all just a kid on the inside."

Running through the rain, letter in his hand, hope in his heart…The lone wolf, the outsider, the coward.

Letter in the mail, and emptiness where his heart had once been.

Squall shook his head. He didn't need the reminder that that kid lived inside of him. He faced it, the horrors of it, every morning when he saw his reflection staring back at him in the mirror.

He didn't like the kid that lived inside.

"Whatever." Squall stepped back, trying to jam his hands into pockets that didn't exist. He checked his watch. "Where are you going to be during the parade?"

"Watching." When Squall sent a narrow-eyed stare in her direction, Rinoa rose onto tiptoes to kiss his chin. "No, Mommy, I'm not dressing up and participating. Though the thought did cross my mind. I figured you'd veto that right out of the water. Ellone and I will wait at the end." Where the dangers are the highest, Rinoa thought. She thought she had control of her sorceress magic by now. If anything happened that Squall couldn't handle, she hoped she'd be fast enough.

A rare grin touched the corners of Squall's grim mouth. "You'd make a sexy elf." He slid his hands over her hips, right where he imagined the hem of her skirt would be. "You wouldn't look ridiculous."

Rinoa twined her arms around his neck, bumping his body with hers. Her lips curved in a devilish smile. "Maybe I will. You can wear your skirt."

He winced, and Rinoa laughed, knowing she'd effectively killed the mood. "You hold that thought—about the elf bit, at least—and we'll see what happens after the parade." She tactfully avoided mention if all goes well. "It would ruin your image of Mrs. Claus if you had a certain bulge in your pants." She patted the bulge in question, smiling at Squall's wince.

"Thanks." Now he'd be stuck with imagining her in a sexy elf suit—and out of that elf suit—all evening. Just the thought had him gritting his teeth to bear down on the sensations in his lower body. "Dammit."

She laughed again, knowing exactly what effect she'd had. Slipping a hand in his, she tugged him out of the room. "Let's go get you something to eat, then we'll get your wig."

"And a bag over my head," Squall muttered, but let Rinoa lead him down the corridor towards a large conference room. Trays of sandwiches and vegetable and fruit arrangements had already been picked over some by the various members in what Squall personally thought was a strange circus show. Along one wall was the ubiquitous array of insulated cups and coffee urns and drink condiments.

Kiros sat in a deep armchair at one side, scanning specs on a small handheld screen. He glanced up, the grimness on his lean, dark face fading into masked humor. "Commander. You look…festive." His dark eyes laughed out of an otherwise straight face.

Squall didn't even bother to scowl, but his fingers tightened on Rinoa's, his only outward sign of irritation. "Are all security measures up and running?"

Despite whatever he might have thought about Squall's manner of dress, Kiros responded competently as ever. "Perimeter scan complete at seventeen-fourteen. Guards posted at all city entrances. Plains clothes guards are already posted around the parade route. At thirty minutes to parade commencement, uniformed guards will make a final sweep along the route and be stationed at both ends. Disguised guards are in costume and waiting at the parade grounds. You will have one dozen guards dressed as elves, reindeer, and snowmen and an additional two dressed as toy soldiers on the balcony for the final scene."

It was all according to the initial plan. Squall nodded once. "Good. Highest probability of attack at the finale, when the impact would be biggest, but no one lets their guard down throughout the parade. That means even if the parade has already passed or hasn't yet arrived at each point along the path, guards must be alert for any suspicious peoples or actions. They will contact you with any concerns."

"We have another two dozen guards waiting here in case any such communication comes through," Kiros confirmed. "Although we agreed it is unlikely that the terrorists will attempt a second vehicular attack, the parade sleigh will be thoroughly scanned just prior to President Loire's arrival at the staging grounds." He paused, then added, "And again, I thank you personally for coming out here to protect Laguna. It means a lot."

Squall shrugged it off. Tried to. "You're welcome."

Rinoa came up with a plate of food and a cup of tea. "No coffee," she told him with a smile. "You don't need the jitters." He accepted both with a murmur, then sat at a small side table and ate mechanically, knowing his body needed the fuel even if the food stuck in his mouth and tasted like sand. He'd know. He'd eaten sand more than a handful of times as a child and on the losing end of a fight with Seifer at the orphanage.

The unexpected memory surprised him. Squall rarely thought of his childhood—or what could pass as his "childhood"—and even more rarely were those memories accompanied by nothing more than a fleeting regret of something long gone. The pain that he so closely associated with those long, horrible years before he joined SeeD seemed to have faded, or at least dulled, with time.

Some of the memories, at least. Others still hurt as fresh as if the wounds still bled.

Rinoa sat beside him. If he hadn't known her better, he would have thought she was unaffected by the upcoming events, but Squall was so attuned to her every nuance that he was suddenly aware of her own nerves. He sent a quick glance at Kiros to make sure the man wasn't looking in their direction, then slid a hand over Rinoa's. She looked up, startled, and for a moment her vulnerability shone in her eyes before she covered it with a small smile. "Something wrong?"

"No. Are you all right?" He pitched his voice low, for her ears only, as a pair of guards dressed as reindeer came in to munch on the offerings. He stilled her knee-jerk response, squeezing her fingers lightly. "I mean, are you all right?"

She looked down, eyes shadowed. "I'm scared." Her voice was barely a whisper, and beneath his hand, her fingers trembled once. "I don't want anything to happen."

"I don't, either," he admitted. She lifted her eyes to his, searching for any sign of insincerity. He returned her look levelly. "I don't," he repeated. "Because I don't want anything to happen to you." He lifted her hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to her palm, her wrist. "It's my job to make sure anything that does happen is contained and restricted, then halted, before anyone is injured or adversely inconvenienced." That was putting it mildly, but for once Squall didn't fumble over the words. She still looked unconvinced, so Squall swallowed down the doubts, the cynicism, and went with the gut.

"Something will happen out there tonight, Rinoa." She bit her lip, nervous, and he allowed a faint smile to touch his mouth, warm his voice. "It's called magic."

Whatever he believed or didn't believe; whatever had happened to him as a child; none of it mattered now. Rinoa's eyes cleared, and a smile trembled on her lips. "Oh, Squall," she murmured, leaning forward. Squall quelled the urge to scan the room to make sure they were unobserved—public displays of affection still made him uneasy—and kissed Rinoa lightly. She sighed against his lips, smile curving up the corners of her mouth, and sat back in her chair.

"Thank you."

He grinned faintly, fighting down the blush as he caught the reindeer guards trying not to stare. "You're welcome."

Rinoa shook her head, smiling. He was so sweet, her Squall, and so innocent. She ignored his blush, knowing the reason for it and knowing better than to tease him about it. "No, thank you for understanding." She tilted her head, watching him. "I know you'll keep us safe." Us. Not just her, not just Laguna—the former out of love, the latter out of duty.

Whether they knew it or not, everyone in the city tonight was relying on Squall for protection. Relying on him just the way he hated, looking up to him for the guidance he'd never wanted to have to provide. Whether he liked it or not, he was a leader, and in times of need, there were those who looked up to him.

There was more at stake tonight than just a Christmas parade. Rinoa understood it implicitly. Squall didn't, or thought he didn't, but somewhere deep inside he knew. It wasn't just a parade. It wasn't, as Squall had said, Laguna in a fat suit.

It was about Christmas. It was magic.


~3.14.10