FINAL FANTASY VIII: VIGIL OF THE FATES

by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)

22.  REPRIEVE

The recently re-christened Deling City, formerly known as Galbadia City and still so called at some personal risk by many of its two million residents, was an old town made new through a revolution.  It was the capital of a nation at war, where soldiers in uniforms were a ubiquitous sight and a stern sort of peace reigned, a quiet uneasiness stirred by battlefields far, far away.  Since the rapidly expanding military bureaucracy could not be crammed into the existing government buildings, the Deling regime opted for the highly unpopular solution of seizing civilian facilities for its uses.  The home headquarter for Timber occupation forces, housed in the best suites of Galbadia Hotel, was one such case. 

At almost eleven the lobby, which served as the mess hall, was empty except for a few officers lounging about.  Three men strode into the lobby in full field gear.  Their appearances were eye-catchingly bedraggled.  A long-haired youth led the trio, and the other two men did not look happy.

"I don't understand why we have to do this tonight," the largest of the men said, rubbing his eyes.  "I sat stiff for eleven hours in that boxcar from hell.  Can't we crash somewhere and sleep first?"

"My behind is just as sore as yours, Ward," the leader said.  "Incidentally, my behind is probably in for a serious chewing.  I'd rather not have that happen the first thing in the morning."

"Listen, Laguna," the third member of the trio addressed the leader, "I think I'd better have a look at that report before you submit it.  A quick proofreading can't hurt, yes?"

"Truth," said Laguna with an air of dignity, "requires no proofreader, much less a censor."

"Can it," snapped Ward.  "Just do as Kiros says, and maybe your behind won't get chewed out quite as bad."

"What is this, you trust his pen but not mine?"

"I don't even want to imagine what half-assed epic you managed to pull out of our fiasco.  I mean you worked on that thing through the whole friggin' trip.  It's an obsession, I tell you.  The army ain't a place for literary men.  If you count as one, that is."

"Quit whining, Ward.  I said you didn't have to come with me, didn't I?"

Kiros shook his head.  "When we get chewed out, we get chewed out together."

"You guys just want to watch me get railed at."

"Well, we could use the entertainment."

Laguna grunted and made his way over to the help desk.  A fresh-faced petty officer rose and greeted him with a wide smile.

"Ah, Lieutenant Loire.  Welcome back home."

"Hello, there."

"It's sure good to see you again in one piece, sir—something few expected."

Kiros and Ward sniggered.  Laguna grunted again.  "I've come to submit the report."

"Excellent, sir.  The colonel orders you to his office."

"Oh?" Laguna said in surprise.  "Has he been informed of my arrival already?"

"No, sir.  But he told me to have you report in the moment you show up."

"Oooh," Kiros and Ward sang in unison, looking at each other.

"Shut up," snapped Laguna.  He turned back to the petty officer.  "Um... well, in that case—hoo, boy, look at the time.  I'm sure the colonel's long since retired to bed.  So I think we'll just be back the first thing in the morning—"

"Actually, he's still in his suite.  You may go right in, sir."

"Oh?  Really?"

"Yes, sir.  They handed us a major inventory to complete by morning.  The colonel has been at work all day.  Didn't expect to sleep tonight, he said."

"I say, that cannot have put him in a very forgiving mood," observed Kiros offhandedly.

"Thanks for that input, corporal," Laguna shot at the tall man.  "All right, we'll go see him right away—"

"Actually," the helpful petty officer cut in, "he was quite specific, sir, that you are to report to him alone."

"Oooh," Kiros and Ward sang again.

Laguna cut them a glare, but then heaved a resigned sigh.  "You men go ahead and wait for me at the bar while I talk to the colonel."

"Survive, lieutenant," Ward said grimly.  "God knows you've survived worse."

"If his fingers twitch towards his sidearm, don't think—just duck," advised Kiros.

"It should be all right.  I hear he doesn't do summary executions all that much anymore."

"Argh....  I'm going," Laguna growled, turning briskly on his toes.  After a few steps he threw back a venomous glance at his men.  "If I'm not back within the hour, come and collect my body, you heartless jerks!"

"You were hoping he wouldn't be in, weren't you?" Kiros returned, arms folded.

"I'm going!"

"That's why you insisted on coming in at this hour, isn't it?"

"I'm going!"

Kiros and Ward watched their lieutenant march down the hall.  "Think he'll be all right?" Ward asked, yawning.

"Of course he won't be all right," Kiros replied with a chuckle that was close to a sigh.  "But then he has practically made survival his career.  I mean the poor guy always pulls through by the skin of his teeth.  So... yes, I suppose he'll be all right.  Come on, let's go for a drink."

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Laguna stopped in front of the door.  He turned back to see if Kiros and Ward were still watching.  When he saw they had gone, he quickly dusted himself with his hands—he was filthy—and smoothed down his hair.  Momentarily, and foolishly, he wished for a mirror.  And cologne; he absolutely reeked.  He took a deep breath, and rapped on the door.

"Yes?" came a deep gravelly voice from the other side.

"Lieutenant Laguna Loire reporting, sir."

There was an ominous interval of silence.  "Come in," came the voice again.

Laguna entered.  Behind the desk by the fireplace, chaotic with paper stacks, sat the portly form of the colonel.  Laguna saluted him.  The colonel did not return it and said nothing, but only removed his spectacles and eyed him coolly.  Standing unrelieved, Laguna resisted the urge to gulp.

"Normally," the colonel spoke at last, slowly and with great deliberation, "after receiving a salute I would tell men to stand at ease.  But since you, lieutenant, seem to suffer from what could only be described as pathological excess of ease, I think I'll just have you stand like that for the duration of this meeting."

Laguna gulped.  "Yes, sir."

"Four days behind schedule," said the colonel, clucking his tongue.  "Regular as a clock, aren't you, lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir, I do apologize.  I will take full responsibility for the squad's tardiness—"

"Report," the colonel cut in sharply.

"Yes, sir." 

Laguna fumbled for and presented the sealed envelope containing the report to the colonel.  The older man took the envelope, gave it a glance, and promptly dropped it unopened into the wastebasket next to the desk.

Laguna gulped again.

The colonel leaned back comfortably in his seat, placing both hands on his rotund belly.  He had been needing a break from all the paperwork drudgery.  He was going to enjoy this.  He produced a linen cloth, removed his pistol from the holster and, as the younger man before him watched nervously, began to wipe the weapon with idle, almost absentminded strokes.  "Now that we have gotten that out of the way," said he with a smile, "why don't you tell me exactly what happened?"

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"There goes the clock," Kiros said, finishing his glass, as the chime struck announcing midnight.  "Should we head on back and claim the corpse?"

Lowering his own bottle, Ward smacked his lips in appreciation and wiped them with the back of his hand.  "And leave all this booze?  I think not."

"It is some good stuff," agreed Kiros.  "But you'd better make that one your last.  Your eyes are starting to cross."

"He'll be back any minute.  He never misses out on drinks this good."

"I do hope he is still a lieutenant when he gets back."

Ward laughed a drunken laughter.  "Strange thing," he said shaking his head.  "I couldn't expect a more annoying boss, but I wouldn't wanna serve under any other."

"See, that's the sort of things you should say when he's around."

"That's the sort of things I say when I'm drunk.  Boy, I'm gonna be so wasted in the morning."

"I'm afraid you're already there, my friend."

"Hey, Kiros," said Ward, a serious light coming into his eyes.  "To tell you the truth, I am a little worried.  You think he wrote all that junk about the monsters and the ghost woman and what not in the report?"

"Probably.  He's every bit the thorough journalist, only completely without tact."

"Ugh, he's gonna sound like a lunatic.  Forget lieutenancy, he'll—burp; 'scuse me—be lucky to still have his friggin' uniform when the colonel's done chewing him out."

"He'll be fine.  How's that arm doing?"

Ward looked down at his bandaged shoulder where the Grendel had sunk its claws two days before.  "Y'know, it's weird.  It doesn't bother me at all.  It's practically healed up already."

"Huh... and they were nasty gashes, too."

"Damn right.  But you know what's even stranger?  I didn't notice the wounds until we almost got out of that forest.  And even then it didn't hurt—just this... tingle, like there was something crawling up and down my arm.  It was like the thing had anaeste—anesthaze—anaetized—oh, hell, my tongue's slippin', but y'know what I mean—itself."

Kiros frowned thoughtfully and poured out another glass.  "Laguna walks away from his fall without a scratch, your wound heals almost overnight, your harpoon takes the head off a monster like it's a wax doll, and we get rescued by a mysterious ghostly being who rains ice on a summer day..."

"You're freaking me out, Kiros."

"Sorry.  It's been a freaky week."

"And here comes the man responsible for it," Ward said, catching Laguna's drooping form in the doorway.  He waved.  "Over here, Laguna."

Laguna sauntered over and plopped down next to his comrades.  He threw back his head tiredly, eyes staring at the ceiling, and did not speak.

"Well, are you still a lieutenant?" Kiros asked.

"Are you still in the army?" Ward followed.

"Yes on both counts," Laguna answered with a drawl. 

"And the Amazing Laguna cheats Fate yet once more," Kiros declared, clapping the lieutenant on the shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah.  Sorry, but can you get me a drink?"

Ward uncorked a fresh bottle and filled a glass.  "We've got all the booze you'll ever want right here.  Chug it down, man."

Laguna took the drink and gulped it down gratefully.  He raised his eyebrows as he lowered the glass.  "Whoa, what is this?"

"The very finest Galbadia Hotel Bar has to offer.  And we've got ourselves three whole bottles.  Well, six—but Kiros and I finished half."

"It's really something.  Since when can you guys afford this stuff?" Laguna asked, pouring himself another glass.

"That would be the courtesy of the gentlemen over there."  Kiros pointed to a table at the far corner of the bar, where a group of troopers were playing cards.

"Huh?"

"Apparently there's been a wager going 'round while we were missing in Timber.  Those guys are the winners."

"Wager?" Laguna repeated, not comprehending.  "Over what?"

"Over whether or not Lieutenant Laguna Loire finally kicked it this time.  The odds were thirteen to one against your survival."

Laguna stared back blankly.  Kiros shrugged.  "They insisted on buying the drinks.  The least they could do for all the money you've made them, they said."

Laguna turned towards the card players and raised his glass in salute.  "Thanks, men!" he hollered.  The troopers raised their own glasses, and one of them gave him a hearty thumbs-up.  "Long live Loire!" said someone, throwing the party into a fit of laughter.

"So, how did the meeting go?" Kiros asked.

"Well, he began by sticking my report in the trash without reading a word."

"Hey, lucky for you," Ward said.

"And then he took out his gun and shined it while I gave an oral report accounting for the squad's delay."

"Ho-ho!"

"Next time you try it, Ward, and see if it's funny."

"And then what?" prompted Kiros.

"Well, he wanted to know why the abandoned enemy village of Mona and the hundred and fifty acres of adjoining wheat fields weren't in ashes like they were supposed to be."

(Ward: "I knew that'd come back and bite us.")

"I thought I would explain to the dear old colonel how the 'scorched earth' tactic** is generally reserved for use by the home court, not the visitor—"

(Kiros: "You didn't.")

"—but I didn't, and instead tried to steer his attention away from that topic with the account of our skirmish with the walking mushrooms which resulted in our accidental separation from the company—"

(Kiros: "Out of the fire and into the furnace.")

"—which didn't seem to make him very understanding, though I explained to him that we tried very hard to relocate the company, except that every critter in the forest seemed to run into us—"

(Ward: "Actually, it was you who kept running us into them.")

"—by the time I got to the acid-spitting crows that snatched our only compass, he was getting pretty impatient.  I stressed of course that navigating by the sun alone in an unknown forest is no simple task.  Then he said I was... let's see, an incompetent; an irredeemable feather-brain who would misplace his own arm; a moron; a blockhead; a retard two I.Q. points shy of being a medically certified imbecile—"

(Ward, chuckling: "Geez, he really let him have it.")

"—a lunkhead who should not be allowed to carry a weapon—"

(Kiros: "Just be glad he didn't notice your missing gun.")

"—which made him notice my empty holster, and he asked, what have I done with my sidearm?  So then I had to explain about the boot—"

(Kiros smacked his forehead.)

"—and then he said I was an ass; a joke; a clown; an idiot; an insult to our great army; a liability to our great army; a disgrace to our great army—"

(Kiros, holding up a hand: "We get the picture.")

"—and my alliterating name and rank annoyed him; he didn't like my hair; he should like to replace my arm with a prosthetic one for the pleasure of seeing me lose it within a week; and just what the hell was this stench emanating from me, stinking up the room?  I told him it was the lizard's blood that got on me and I hadn't had the time to freshen up, and he said I was a—"

"All right, all right!" Ward said, bringing the monologue to a halt.  "Enough, man.  You're taking the fun out of my drinks."

"And so in short, fellas," concluded Laguna, "I think we can expect for awhile a drastic reduction in leave hours and lots of patrol duty at some very unpopular spots."

"Great.  Drink?" Kiros said, motioning to refill the lieutenant's glass.

"Thank you," Laguna replied, and snatched the whole bottle.  "God, I need another job."

Kiros sneered.  "What, is it that talk again?"     

"I'm serious this time, guys.  My days in the army are numbered."

"What will you do after you get out?"

"I dunno.  Be a freelance writer maybe." 

"Freelancing these days is just a fancy term for homeless, you know."

"How's that different from being in the army?  We're always on the move as it is anyway.  I know you two don't plan on staying here forever, either," Laguna said, rubbing his ear.

"Well," Ward slurred, taking another swig from the bottle, "I can always get back to whaling, I guess."

"Ward, you really shouldn't drink any more tonight," Kiros warned.

"Leave me be.  I'm a sailor.  What do you land folks know about drinking?"

"You know, Ward," Laguna said grinning, "if you're gonna blast whales like you did that lizard, your harpooning won't leave much of kills to make profit from."

Ward was annoyed.  "Quit bringing that out.  It was a freak occurrence, is all."

"Come on, you vaporized the thing's head off."  Laguna continued to rub his ear.  "I think it was a little more than a chance... dammit!"

Kiros looked up.  "What's up?"

Laguna kept his palm pressed over the ear he has been massaging.  "Never mind."

"Something wrong with your ear?"

"Never mind.  It's nothing."

"Uh-oh," Ward said, freezing.

"What?" Laguna asked.

"You said it's nothing.  That means it's a major something."

"Ha-ha."

"Seriously.  You remember Loberman, Kiros?"

"Oh, yes.  The 'nothing' about the faulty axle.  Had us eating hospital rations for a week, I remember."

"And the time we had to cross Laffane plains, too.  'It's nothing—we'll just refill our canteens on the way,' he said.  We went four days without water."

"Indeed we did.  'Fess up, Laguna."

"No way.  You'll just say I'm hearing voices again or some such stupid thing."

Ward looked panicked.  "You're hearing voices again?"

"No, you lunkhead," Laguna snapped, rubbing the ear.  "It's just... these weird buzzing hums that comes and goes.  Been driving me absolutely nuts for days."

Kiros and Ward sat up, staring.

"Now I know what you'll say.  But I'm dead earnest—"

"Er, actually," Kiros said, "I've been experiencing the same thing... is what I was going to say."

"You're kidding, right?" Ward cried.  "I thought there was something seriously up with me all this time."

"Since when is 'all this time'?" asked Kiros, brows creasing.

"Since that forest, two days ago."

"Same here."

"Me, too."

The men regarded one another in silence.

"All right, what's going on?" Laguna spoke at last.

"I don't know," replied Kiros.  "But if this is a symptom of some sort, all three of us are being affected."

"Or infected," Laguna said gravely.  "You think maybe we picked up something in that forest?  I couldn't name half the critters we ran into there.  Who knows what they might have been carrying?"

"I bet that's what it is," Ward cried.  "I bet you got it first, and I got it from you!"

"Ah, for crying out loud, Ward."

"You gave it to me, didn't you!  I just know you did."

"Oh, shut up!  We don't even know what this is, if anything at all.  Are we experiencing any other... eh, symptoms?"

"Well," Kiros began cautiously, "when the buzzing gets especially sharp sometimes, I get a tad dizzy."  He paused to gauge the men's reaction, and read on their apprehensive faces the confirmation that it was the same for them.  "And, it was actually Ward that brought this to my attention, but I've also been feeling something like currents run up and down my limbs from time to time.  I didn't think much of it, but..."

"My Goth," lisped Ward, "we're doomed!  What're we gonna do?"

Laguna scratched his head, and winced at the grimy locks that met his fingers.  "For all we know it might be a temporary thing, whatever it is.  Let's wait a few days and see whether it passes."

"But you gave it to us!" Ward moaned.  "I just know it can's simply disappear—not if I caught it from you."

"Let it drop, will you?  How can you be so damn sure you got it from me?"

"Because it's my lot to share your misfortunes!"

"Aww, Ward—that's so sweet of you to say.  I'm touched."

"He's drunk.  Don't mind him," said Kiros.  "In any case, I'm not convinced that this is necessarily an unwelcome thing."

"Whaddaya mean?" Ward asked.

"You said it yourself, Ward—that the wound that should have been painful was not, and in place of pain you felt a tingling sensation through your arm.  You were the one to call the effect 'anaesthetic.'"

"You're saying that this—whatever it is—is actually helping me?"

"After you harpooned one of the lizards," Laguna said, thumbing his chin, "didn't you also say you felt something move down your arm?"

"Huh?  Come to think of it..."

The men were silent once again.

"What do you suppose it all means?" asked Kiros.

"I don't know," replied Laguna.

"I do," Ward breathed.  "We've been possessed."

"Oh, come on."

"We have to be!  How else do you explain you and me healing so fast?"

"I didn't heal, Ward.  I was unhurt by dumb luck."

"What about my ridiculous strength?  And the whispers in my ears?"

Laguna made a face.  "Since when were they whispers?  I thought we agreed on buzzing."

"Sometimes they sound like whispers!"

"Great, so now you are the one hearing voices."

"It's that naked forest witch we saw that's doing it, I tell you!"

"Ward, you're drunk."

"Gentlemen, let's take a breath, shall we?" Kiros proposed.

"A tranquilizer is what he needs to take," snapped Laguna.

"I swear the witch's haunting us!"

"Oh, shove it, Ward.  If you nailed that critter 'cause you're possessed then Kiros and I should be able to crack this table like a—" And so saying, Laguna clenched a fist and brought it down on the wooden table, hard.

With a brittle crunch the oak shattered, leaving a saucer-sized dent at the edge of the table. 

Laguna, Kiros, and Ward gaped.  No one said a word for a long moment.

"HOLY SHIT," Ward hissed low.

"It... must be a very old table.  It must be," said Kiros, stuttering uncharacteristically.

Laguna picked up the broken chunk of wood from the floor.  It was a perfectly sound piece of oak, with no signs of rotting or decay.  Kiros observed it incredulously.  "Doesn't your hand hurt?" he asked Laguna.

"Huh?  Er... no.  Not at all," he answered, coming out of the daze.

"Is everything all right, gentlemen?" the barkeep asked, approaching the table.

Laguna hurried to his feet and intercepted the barkeep.  He blocked the damaged table from his view.  "Everything is fine—sorry if we disturbed anyone."

"I thought I heard something break..."

"This silly drunk," said Laguna, patting the bandana-wrapped head of Ward who still sat staring in stupefaction, "nodded off and smacked himself into the table.  We'll keep him on a leash.  Don't worry yourself."

Frowning, the barkeep left.  Laguna sank back into his seat.

"We are possessed," Ward slurred, eyes wide and bloodshot.

"My dear Ward, if you say that one more time, I'm beating you over the head with your harpoon."

"But we are!  You saw it—you did it!"

Kiros rose and gathered his gear.  "Let's get out of here.  We should discuss this someplace private."

"We gotta—we gotta find help," Ward mumbled, remaining glued to his seat.  "Charms, exorcism, good luck tattoos—something."

"Up now, big guy," Laguna said as he struggled to drag the intoxicated giant to his feet.  "We have to leave before they see we've wrecked their furniture.  Kiros, get the bottles, will you?"

"Why did I pass on that tattoo?  My buddies offered to get me a good one before I left home but I—"

"Sailor, you can ramble your superstitions in private.  Help me with the other arm, Kiros."

"Actually," Kiros replied, putting Ward's arm around his shoulders, "I think Ward and I'll be going by ourselves."

Laguna frowned.  "What are you talking about?"

"Incoming, six o'clock."

Laguna glanced behind, and spotted the approaching figure.  He swerved back, mortified.  "Holy crap!  Julia!"

"She's been looking this way for awhile," said Kiros.

"Hey, look—it's Laguna's li'l crush," Ward burped.

"I didn't even see her come in!  Why didn't you say something?" whispered Laguna, his back still turned on the woman.

"We were in the middle of an important discussion, as I recall."

"Is she coming our way?"

"You see anybody else here?"

"Oh, man, oh, man!  How, how do I look?"

"Terrible.  And you stink."

"Crap!" he growled, burying his face in his hands.

"Hello," said a soft, melodious voice from behind. 

Laguna whipped around so fast that Ward who had been half leaning on him nearly fell forward.  "Hi," he squeaked.

Kiros stayed the bulky man and nodded politely at the woman in red that had accosted them.  "Hello, Miss Julia.  I'm afraid my friend here is badly in need of a room where he can pass out in peace.  Lieutenant, we'll see you later.  Good night, Miss."

"Good night then," said Julia, smiling.

"Laguna, we gotta undo the curse," Ward slurred as he was ushered away on unsteady feet.  Laguna closed his eyes and bit down a groan.  Kiros flashed a grin before disappearing through the door.  Laguna and Julia were left alone in the deserted corner of the bar.

"You have very colorful friends," Julia remarked.

"Ah, yes—yes, I do," Laguna agreed, caught off-guard; he had been trying to think of what to say.  "They're as big troublemakers as I am, really, but they've always been good buddies.  To me.  With me.  Us together, I mean."  He cringed.

"So I noticed.  The three of you always seem to stand out together, no matter how big the crowd."

"You mean you've noticed us before?  I'm honored."  That was pretty smooth, wasn't it? Laguna thought, mentally patting himself on the back.

Julia laughed.  The sound was silvery in his ears.  "How could I not?  You're always at the very front.  Once you almost got yourself into a brawl with another party, I remember, to get a table by the stage!"

Laguna blushed scarlet in an instant.  He hadn't known she was watching that!  "Ah... well, I have long been a fan of yours, so..."

"Oh, don't take me wrong.  I was very flattered," said Julia, causing the lieutenant to beam at once.  "Afterwards I couldn't help but notice you—even when you came alone without your friends.  That got rather frequent, as I remember.  I was beginning to wonder if the trio had been broken up."

Laguna was speechless.  She had not merely noticed him; she had been observing him!  "Ah... Would you like to sit down, Miss Julia?"

"Thank you.  Just Julia is fine."

A lone bottle of champagne remained in the ice bucket, which Kiros had thoughtfully left untouched on the table.  Thank you, my friend! Laguna said to himself as he uncorked it.  "We've got pretty good champagne here.  Oh, I've totally forgotten to tell you!  Miss Julia, I mean Julia, I am—"

"Lieutenant Loire, isn't it?" she finished.

He was speechless again.  "You know my name?" he gasped out.

"Well," Julia said, looking a trifle abashed, "things got lively here when your division came home last week.  I kept hearing the men say this and that about a Laguna—Laguna didn't return and missed the train home, Laguna finally lucked out, that sort of things.  I asked them who this Laguna was, and what should they tell me but that it's the fellow with long hair who always sits at the front whenever I play?  Now imagine my surprise when I came down for a drink, and saw you back here with your friends."

"Oh," whispered Laguna, staring at the pianist's beautiful face like a man hypnotized. 

"Um... lieutenant, you're spilling your champagne."

"Oh!"  He looked down and snatched the bottle from the overflowing glass.  "I'm so sorry.  I—I didn't get anything on your dress, did I?"

"I'm fine.  Oh, my," Julia said, noting the ruined table.  "Whoever did this, I wonder?"

Laguna felt sweat on his brow.  "Oh, that.  Um... yeah, it was like that when we got here.  Should've got ourselves another table."

"Goodness, it looks like someone put a shell through it.  Really, what these men do sometimes when they get drunk..."

"It—it's absolutely barbaric, I know," he stuttered.  "Totally uncivilized, some of these fellows.  Gotta be careful around'em."

"But aren't they your army comrades?" Julia said, a mock grin at her lips.  "You trio don't have a terribly gentle image either, you know."

"Ward and Kiros?  Nah," Laguna replied, waving his hand.  "They don't look it, but they're both big softies underneath—kind of like me.  They couldn't have put up with me this long otherwise."

Julia released another sparkling laughter.  "Well, what are softies like you doing in the army, then?"

"We gotta make ends meet, you know?  Ward used to be a harpooneer on a whaling ship, and Kiros... he's from a corner of the earth you've probably never heard of.  He basically left home just so he could see the world.  The army tripled in size in just two years, you know.  To fill up all those vacancies they ended up taking in men of every conceivable sort from every place you could name on the map.  The army was... an exciting place to be for the first couple of years."

"Why only for the first few years?" Julia asked with a cocked head.

Laguna grew serious, and his smile was fragile.  "Everything wears out after awhile, I guess.  It was the people that drew me to the army, but the army has been getting less and less humane over the years—what with all the wars and the foreign campaigns.  Although, I have to admit, the one thing I still enjoy about the army is the travels abroad."

"I must say, you look like you're a born wanderer," she opined, smiling meaningfully at his dirty, ragged form.

"Ah, well...," he laughed embarrassedly.  "I must be quite a sight to look at.  And I really apologize about the smell.  It's this nasty animal that I got uncomfortably close to a couple days back—"

"It's quite all right; I don't mind.  War is a nasty thing, isn't it?"

"It is.  But, um, what about you, Julia?  How have things been for you these months?"

"Very good.  I've been working on my first song, which I'm hoping to publish before the end of the year."

"Really?" he cried, delighted.  "That's great!  Rest assured I'll buy the first copy available—first ten!  Can I ask you in advance to autograph them?"

"Consider it a promise, Lieutenant Loire."

Laguna shook his head.  "I'm only called that when I'm in troubles.  Please, call me Laguna."

"All right, Laguna," she beamed.

Laguna forgot to breathe for a moment.  The woman was blinding when she smiled!  Realizing that he had been staring like an idiot, he averted his gaze and fumbled desperately for his next words.  Julia looked on amused.  "So, Julia, you're from—"

"Brenheim.  It's a small town."

Saved! he said to himself.  "Oh, really?  You know, I recognize that name!  It's right near, um, it's right inside—" He stopped suddenly.  He remembered where Brenheim was.  Oh, crap, he thought.

"It's a district of Timber," Julia provided.  For the first time since the conversation began, she looked away from the man that sat before her, and she was quiet.

Crap, crap, crap! Laguna chanted in his mind.  That was the wrong topic to head into.  But how could he have foreseen that the country his army was invading, the country he had just returned from as a part of that invasion effort, was Julia's home?  How could he get himself out of this?  Think! he told himself.  Think, Laguna!

"Um...  A beautiful place, isn't it?" 

"It used to be."

He could think of nothing.  He was screwed.

"I didn't expect Galbadia to invade Timber," Julia said in a much subdued tone.  "My career brought me to this place back when it was still called Galbadia City.  I am too established here to leave at whim now, but it's hard to think of home these days without a heavy heart."

"It... must be hard for you, Julia, living so close to the men responsible for your countrymen's misery."

"I do not hold them all responsible," she replied, matching his gaze once more.  "I understand that it is the regime, not the soldiers, which is greedy and warlike.  But I wish, I hope, the people of Galbadia will realize the error of their leaders.  I... Even as I settled here, I have always wanted my future children to grow up in Timber.  But I wouldn't want a colony, much less a battlefield, for their home."

"Deling isn't really interested in Timber, you know," Laguna said cautiously.  "It's his obsession with Esthar that's driving him to grab anything that may help him on that front.  If occupying Timber proves to be useless in his war effort against Esthar, and I hope it does for Timber's sake, he will not waste military resources to hold onto it."  He knew it was a load of speculative bull.  But he wanted to make Julia feel better about it at least.

Julia smiled then.  It was a tremendous relief for Laguna.  "Would you not be deemed disloyal to say such a thing?" said she.

"Frankly I don't expect to be in the army much longer.  You're right; a loyalty that one cannot fully maintain in good conscience ought to be renounced."

She regarded the youth in some surprise.  She had not expected him to go that far.  He laughed nervously at her expression. 

"I say some strange things, I know.  I've been told that more than once."

"No.  No, Laguna, I'm glad I decided to speak with you.  And I'm glad you returned home safely."

Laguna flushed visibly.  "Thank you.  That's the best welcome home I've received."

The brief talk had been wrapped up, they realized.  But neither seemed willing to rise from the seat and say good-bye.  Laguna contemplated his glass that was still full: what now?  Then Julia stood up, and he followed suit.  He made ready to extend his hand and bid her a good night.

"Listen," she said, "where are you staying for the night?"

"Me?" he said, taken aback.  "Er, Kiros and Ward probably got a room in the hotel somewhere.  I was going to find them—"

"I have a whole suite to myself.  You're welcome to use one of the guest rooms if you like."

"A guest room?  In your suite?" he all but squealed.

Julia made an exaggeratedly stern face.  "Mind you, I'm just offering a place to pass the night to a fan of mine.  And I don't have to remind you to keep this between ourselves, now do I?  We don't want people having funny thoughts about it."

"Of—of course not," he stammered.

"Good.  I'll go on ahead, then.  Come on your own to suite 203."  She laughed at the mix of fear and discomfort on his face.  "Don't worry, Laguna.  I promise there won't be anything inappropriate.  You'll even have your own bathroom.  You certainly look like you could use it."

Then she was gone.  Laguna sat back down.  He retraced the interview that had just taken place, and thought of what was about to take place.  He then smacked himself on the cheek.  "What am I thinking?  Nothing inappropriate, she said," he said aloud.  But he was going to sleep in Julia's private suite!  And they hadn't even been acquainted thirty minutes ago!  It was a dream.  A wonderful dream.  Laguna got up and exited the bar.  He waited for the elevator at the lobby.  "I don't know how I'm gonna explain this to the guys in the morning...  Heck, they'll probably think I'm making it up anyway." 

Then it happened again.  The buzzing hum started without warning, and quickly grew in his ears.  It almost felt like it was proceeding from the very center of his brain.  It was quite loud now, and the dizziness was the most intense yet.  He leaned against the wall and supported himself.  The hum's pitch fluctuated wildly.  He covered his ears.  Ward had been right—it did sound rather like whispers...  With that last thought, Laguna blacked out.

Author's note:

**scorched earth: a tactic that involves torching one's own agricultural fields in order to starve the invading forces.  Russia resorted to this desperate measure when Napoleon's army invaded that country, with successful results.

1.  I'm back.  Please don't kill me, those of you who remember me.  But if you want to flame me for the obscenely long hiatus, I understand.

2.  Next installment: Timber.  We'll get back to Squall and company in Timber at last.