(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. .author's note. .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
I think I have Laguna's characterization down pretty well. Laguna. Everyone loves the bastard.
I apologize for the rushed ending last chapter. My parents were shoving me off the PC. I think that the review count has gone up once more, though. Thank you.
Yes, that was the bonding chapter. Now, Quistis knows Squall's parentage. A bit of a shock, as you can imagine. Now, we didn't get to experience Quistis's actual thoughts on this matter in the last chapter. So this starts off after Laguna has left for Esthar already.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. quistis .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
I turned a piece of white paper over in my fingers.
Two days after my attempt on my life, I was back in my classroom, teaching. My old, familiar surroundings had begun to regenerate, along with the inevitable boredom. But it wasn't as boring as I found I'd been hoping.
I turned a piece of white paper over in my fingers.
It was all because of Laguna Loire.
I felt like a petulant child trying to foot the blame onto someone else, but in a sense, it was true. It really was all Laguna Loire's fault. He was . . .
Squall's father.
Laguna was Squall's father.
I don't see how I didn't realize it sooner. It was simply obvious. Look at them. They are so similar in appearance. . .I suppose that since their attitudes are so different, nobody made the connection.
Laguna couldn't be lying. It just . . .made sense, now. Pieces of a puzzle click together far more rapidly when you know what the picture's supposed to be.
I found myself wondering why Laguna had left Squall behind. His explaination hadn't been very thorough, nor was it under the best of circumstances. I chewed on that thought for about minute before deliberating:
I didn't care.
Squall wasn't an orphan. He had family. But if said family HAD taken him, than he would never have been to the orphanage, and we'd never have met. He should never have met us. Perhaps, he would have still known Ellone, since Laguna was like her uncle, but me, Irvine, Zell . . . we wouldn't be anything to Squall.
Irvine had once said something to the effect of that though he might regret a past choice; he couldn't do anything about it. So he dealt with it, that since he had chosen that path, he must be destined to take it. I don't think Laguna had ever heard that.
He was living with the burden of, in his eyes, abandoning his child. But was it really abandonment? Matron had been a wonderful person to be raised by. Could Laguna have been any better?
He seemed to have done a good job with Ellone during the time that I'd seen. But, he was so . . . so . . . I pounded my head for a suitable adjective for Laguna Loire.
A pencil dropped; the student apologized and picked it up. I turned my attention back to the slip of white paper.
A small indescript piece of paper. Just a few pen marks on it. I fingered it listlessly as I watched over the classroom.
Laguna was dealing with a big problem. Squall couldn't go his entire life thinking his father had died in some war when the aforementioned father had actually stopped it-and survived to become a major world power.
Did Laguna really think the situation was hopeless? That Squall would just reject a family out of hand? Of course, I don't think it would be past Squall, but wasn't it worth a try? Wasn't giving your son a father something to be proud of?
Did Laguna really think that he was helping Squall by keeping this from him?
Because he wasn't helping him at all.
An adjective finally came to mind. A word I would never have chosen if it weren't so perfectly suited for the part.
Laguna was a moron.
He hadn't seemed like one for quite awhile, but he truly was. That night, we had returned pretty late. And he had seen nothing wrong with that; I'd had to practically force the implications of that down his throat.
We decided to do what any sane person in our situation would do: Lie.
The story we came up with to cover the true events of the evening was simple, clean, and believable.
He had done all the talking, fortunately. Laguna Loire was a decent liar. Supposedly, he had gone for a walk, and I went along to guard him. We sheltered in the cave, where there was a rockslide, and we made our way out. Simple.
No one doubted a word. Most of it was actually true. There wasn't any reason to suspect anything else had happened, and even I began to half believe it.
Until I remembered the unseen marks on my wrists.
Until I saw Squall every damn morning.
Laguna Loire had gone back to Esthar the following afternoon. I was still resting, so I hadn't been there long to see him off. He shook everyone's hand twice, but the one handshake he gave me was a bit different.
He'd palmed me the white piece of paper.
He'd palmed me his phone number, scribbled along with a note that scrawled, 'If you need to talk. -Loire'
. . . 'If you need to talk'?
I regretted telling him the truth of the matter. I should have lied, should have given another reason. I shouldn't have told him anything. It was probably the lack of blood flowing to my brain that night, but I had spilled everything. I had nothing left. Empty.
Now he thought I was suicidal and manic depressed. I probably was.
But that wasn't the issue.
The problem was, I myself was powerless to tell Squall a thing. I had given my vow of secrecy, I wasn't about to break it. No, if Squall was going to find out, Laguna would have to dig himself from his little hole of misery.
If he hadn't done that already, it looked like he needed help. Which meant I had work to do.
So there was no time for self pity. I stared down at the white slip of paper. The numbers seemed to laugh at me, pointing nastily.
I racked my brains for a solution.
. . .
Damn.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. laguna .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
Life was sucking really really bad right now. I mean, my office had gone to the dogs. It was a den of suits and paper.
Reporters and important people everywhere. Extra phones had been plugged into walls, which were ringing incessantly, and paperwork was everywhere, along with stranded manilla folders and people waving them at me.
Time to get to work, Laguna.
Damn Presidency. Gotta love it.
Someone asked me a few questions, I answered curtly. Questions weren't going to fix anything in politics. I barked orders into phones, and looked over old papers and background checks. I had to get this mess cleared up.
Argh. Caraway just had to die, didn't he?
Kiros and Ward were everywhere at once, thank Hyne for those guys. Everything else was pandemonium. . .hey, I should use that word more often. Pandemonium.
So . . . maybe I should explain why everything was so screwed? Yeah, well, Caraway's death was part of it. A major part of it. Remember those radicals out to kill me? Yeah, those.
Caraway's vice-president was a member.
Secretly, of course, but now that he was in charge, he'd decided to come out of the closet.
I fed a few neato impromptu quotes to the supposedly 'undercover' reporters hovering around my desk, and a guy in the traditional Esthar garb (who was actually from Dollet, but I wasn't supposed to know that) asked what I would do.
I replied to him very professionally that I hoped that this wouldn't ruin relations between Esthar and Galbadia. I replied to myself, yeah, right, and I'm queen of the friggin' moon.
I always was good at BS-ing people. My old English teacher had also fallen prey to my natural skill. This guy was no different. Hah.
It was late. I yawned, and wrapped up as many loose ends as I could. If I wanted to think properly, I'd need sleep. I filmed one last condolence to the government of Galbadia before handing the reins to Kiros-Ward had already done a lot for me lately-and heading to my suite.
As usual, my room was a disaster. Eh.
I fell backwards onto my bed. Man, what a day. This was sucking pretty bad.
I rolled over onto my side and curled up slightly. I really was pretty tired. Couldn't be too surprised about that, I guess.
I yawned, and didn't bother fighting it when my eyes began to shut. Mmmm. Sleep.
BRRRRRING.
Damn phone. Shut up.
What if it was someone important? I didn't give out my personal room number to many people, and they'd know better than to call over some trivial little thing.
Argh. Damn logic. I flopped my hand out in the general direction of the bedstand and grabbed the receiver.
"'Ello?" I said kinda thickly. "Loire here."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I think I caught you at a bad time. You sound exhausted, I'll call back tomorrow."
Huh? A girl? Who was the last girl I'd given-"Oh, Quistis!" I sat up as fast as I could, which really wasn't that fast, but hey, don't get picky. "Nah, I was about to go to bed, but I'm OK."
"If you're sure . . ." She sounded doubtful, but didn't make an excuse to hang up.
"So what'd you want?" From her tone of voice, I was guessing it wasn't another Quistis Trepe: Suicide Crisis episode.
She hesitated. Never a good sign. "Well, since you helped me a bit, I think I should help you in return."
Ah. I guess that was reasonable. But really, she could've just said she wanted to help.
I shielded the receiver from a yawn before continuing. "Strictly business as usual, hmm? No desire at all to help your fellow man?"
Quistis cleared her throat over the line. If she were here, and not just talking through the phone, she probably would've done the whole looking-at- you-over-her-glasses bit.
Gezz, I can take a hint. "Fine, fine, strictly business then. I'm gonna assume you have a plan of some sort already cooked up, and let me say this- if it involves me going within twenty feet of Squall, I'm not doing it," I explained flatly. No way.
"Don't worry, you'll be halfway across the world from him."
Now, I know its probably been said before, but Quistis is a friggin' genius. I should give her a medal. You know, I could probably do that.
She laid out her plan in a tone textbook dry and yet urgent voice that made it seem like a military operation. I've used that voice before, or at least that's what Kiros told me once, but yeah, but not that often.
Now, I know I'm a genius, but really, Quistis took the cake on this one. She took the whole entire cake, icing and all. And she even got to lick the cake-y bit off the candles. I tried my best not to grin insanely, but hey, it wasn't like anyone could see me.
Her plan was flawless. Sure, there was the danger of complete and cold rejection by my only living flesh and blood, but at least I wouldn't be beaten to a bloody pulp.
I punched the air enthusiastically. "Man, that's great! What do you-"
"Tomorrow night. I'll meet you at the orphanage at eleven." Quistis' curt voice interrupted. Not what I was going to ask her, but okay.
"P.M?" I shrugged.
"Yes. I will see you then, Mr. Loire." Quistis replied, before I heard the line disconnect.
Argh. 'Mr. Loire'? It sounded like an old guy who threw shoes at trespassing kids. I hung up, and decided-
. . .
. . .wait a sec. . .
Tomorrow?
I'm telling Squall tomorrow?
Usually, I don't get too eloquent with my swearing, but hey, my delayed reactions aren't my fault.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. .author's note. .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
So they're meeting after dark now, hmm? Still angsty, but with amazing fluff potential. But I doubt that will happen. I'll save most the fluff for the other fic I've deliberated on. It won't hinder this fic any, I only do one at a time.
I wasn't in a very angsty mood this chapter. I even thought up some humorous points: Ever notice that in the game, their weapons just disappear after battle? It's like, Laguna can fit a grenade launcher in his pants. Or maybe he's just happy to us. Who knows?
. . . And remember. Those who live by the sword get shot by those who don't.
I think I have Laguna's characterization down pretty well. Laguna. Everyone loves the bastard.
I apologize for the rushed ending last chapter. My parents were shoving me off the PC. I think that the review count has gone up once more, though. Thank you.
Yes, that was the bonding chapter. Now, Quistis knows Squall's parentage. A bit of a shock, as you can imagine. Now, we didn't get to experience Quistis's actual thoughts on this matter in the last chapter. So this starts off after Laguna has left for Esthar already.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. quistis .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
I turned a piece of white paper over in my fingers.
Two days after my attempt on my life, I was back in my classroom, teaching. My old, familiar surroundings had begun to regenerate, along with the inevitable boredom. But it wasn't as boring as I found I'd been hoping.
I turned a piece of white paper over in my fingers.
It was all because of Laguna Loire.
I felt like a petulant child trying to foot the blame onto someone else, but in a sense, it was true. It really was all Laguna Loire's fault. He was . . .
Squall's father.
Laguna was Squall's father.
I don't see how I didn't realize it sooner. It was simply obvious. Look at them. They are so similar in appearance. . .I suppose that since their attitudes are so different, nobody made the connection.
Laguna couldn't be lying. It just . . .made sense, now. Pieces of a puzzle click together far more rapidly when you know what the picture's supposed to be.
I found myself wondering why Laguna had left Squall behind. His explaination hadn't been very thorough, nor was it under the best of circumstances. I chewed on that thought for about minute before deliberating:
I didn't care.
Squall wasn't an orphan. He had family. But if said family HAD taken him, than he would never have been to the orphanage, and we'd never have met. He should never have met us. Perhaps, he would have still known Ellone, since Laguna was like her uncle, but me, Irvine, Zell . . . we wouldn't be anything to Squall.
Irvine had once said something to the effect of that though he might regret a past choice; he couldn't do anything about it. So he dealt with it, that since he had chosen that path, he must be destined to take it. I don't think Laguna had ever heard that.
He was living with the burden of, in his eyes, abandoning his child. But was it really abandonment? Matron had been a wonderful person to be raised by. Could Laguna have been any better?
He seemed to have done a good job with Ellone during the time that I'd seen. But, he was so . . . so . . . I pounded my head for a suitable adjective for Laguna Loire.
A pencil dropped; the student apologized and picked it up. I turned my attention back to the slip of white paper.
A small indescript piece of paper. Just a few pen marks on it. I fingered it listlessly as I watched over the classroom.
Laguna was dealing with a big problem. Squall couldn't go his entire life thinking his father had died in some war when the aforementioned father had actually stopped it-and survived to become a major world power.
Did Laguna really think the situation was hopeless? That Squall would just reject a family out of hand? Of course, I don't think it would be past Squall, but wasn't it worth a try? Wasn't giving your son a father something to be proud of?
Did Laguna really think that he was helping Squall by keeping this from him?
Because he wasn't helping him at all.
An adjective finally came to mind. A word I would never have chosen if it weren't so perfectly suited for the part.
Laguna was a moron.
He hadn't seemed like one for quite awhile, but he truly was. That night, we had returned pretty late. And he had seen nothing wrong with that; I'd had to practically force the implications of that down his throat.
We decided to do what any sane person in our situation would do: Lie.
The story we came up with to cover the true events of the evening was simple, clean, and believable.
He had done all the talking, fortunately. Laguna Loire was a decent liar. Supposedly, he had gone for a walk, and I went along to guard him. We sheltered in the cave, where there was a rockslide, and we made our way out. Simple.
No one doubted a word. Most of it was actually true. There wasn't any reason to suspect anything else had happened, and even I began to half believe it.
Until I remembered the unseen marks on my wrists.
Until I saw Squall every damn morning.
Laguna Loire had gone back to Esthar the following afternoon. I was still resting, so I hadn't been there long to see him off. He shook everyone's hand twice, but the one handshake he gave me was a bit different.
He'd palmed me the white piece of paper.
He'd palmed me his phone number, scribbled along with a note that scrawled, 'If you need to talk. -Loire'
. . . 'If you need to talk'?
I regretted telling him the truth of the matter. I should have lied, should have given another reason. I shouldn't have told him anything. It was probably the lack of blood flowing to my brain that night, but I had spilled everything. I had nothing left. Empty.
Now he thought I was suicidal and manic depressed. I probably was.
But that wasn't the issue.
The problem was, I myself was powerless to tell Squall a thing. I had given my vow of secrecy, I wasn't about to break it. No, if Squall was going to find out, Laguna would have to dig himself from his little hole of misery.
If he hadn't done that already, it looked like he needed help. Which meant I had work to do.
So there was no time for self pity. I stared down at the white slip of paper. The numbers seemed to laugh at me, pointing nastily.
I racked my brains for a solution.
. . .
Damn.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. laguna .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
Life was sucking really really bad right now. I mean, my office had gone to the dogs. It was a den of suits and paper.
Reporters and important people everywhere. Extra phones had been plugged into walls, which were ringing incessantly, and paperwork was everywhere, along with stranded manilla folders and people waving them at me.
Time to get to work, Laguna.
Damn Presidency. Gotta love it.
Someone asked me a few questions, I answered curtly. Questions weren't going to fix anything in politics. I barked orders into phones, and looked over old papers and background checks. I had to get this mess cleared up.
Argh. Caraway just had to die, didn't he?
Kiros and Ward were everywhere at once, thank Hyne for those guys. Everything else was pandemonium. . .hey, I should use that word more often. Pandemonium.
So . . . maybe I should explain why everything was so screwed? Yeah, well, Caraway's death was part of it. A major part of it. Remember those radicals out to kill me? Yeah, those.
Caraway's vice-president was a member.
Secretly, of course, but now that he was in charge, he'd decided to come out of the closet.
I fed a few neato impromptu quotes to the supposedly 'undercover' reporters hovering around my desk, and a guy in the traditional Esthar garb (who was actually from Dollet, but I wasn't supposed to know that) asked what I would do.
I replied to him very professionally that I hoped that this wouldn't ruin relations between Esthar and Galbadia. I replied to myself, yeah, right, and I'm queen of the friggin' moon.
I always was good at BS-ing people. My old English teacher had also fallen prey to my natural skill. This guy was no different. Hah.
It was late. I yawned, and wrapped up as many loose ends as I could. If I wanted to think properly, I'd need sleep. I filmed one last condolence to the government of Galbadia before handing the reins to Kiros-Ward had already done a lot for me lately-and heading to my suite.
As usual, my room was a disaster. Eh.
I fell backwards onto my bed. Man, what a day. This was sucking pretty bad.
I rolled over onto my side and curled up slightly. I really was pretty tired. Couldn't be too surprised about that, I guess.
I yawned, and didn't bother fighting it when my eyes began to shut. Mmmm. Sleep.
BRRRRRING.
Damn phone. Shut up.
What if it was someone important? I didn't give out my personal room number to many people, and they'd know better than to call over some trivial little thing.
Argh. Damn logic. I flopped my hand out in the general direction of the bedstand and grabbed the receiver.
"'Ello?" I said kinda thickly. "Loire here."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I think I caught you at a bad time. You sound exhausted, I'll call back tomorrow."
Huh? A girl? Who was the last girl I'd given-"Oh, Quistis!" I sat up as fast as I could, which really wasn't that fast, but hey, don't get picky. "Nah, I was about to go to bed, but I'm OK."
"If you're sure . . ." She sounded doubtful, but didn't make an excuse to hang up.
"So what'd you want?" From her tone of voice, I was guessing it wasn't another Quistis Trepe: Suicide Crisis episode.
She hesitated. Never a good sign. "Well, since you helped me a bit, I think I should help you in return."
Ah. I guess that was reasonable. But really, she could've just said she wanted to help.
I shielded the receiver from a yawn before continuing. "Strictly business as usual, hmm? No desire at all to help your fellow man?"
Quistis cleared her throat over the line. If she were here, and not just talking through the phone, she probably would've done the whole looking-at- you-over-her-glasses bit.
Gezz, I can take a hint. "Fine, fine, strictly business then. I'm gonna assume you have a plan of some sort already cooked up, and let me say this- if it involves me going within twenty feet of Squall, I'm not doing it," I explained flatly. No way.
"Don't worry, you'll be halfway across the world from him."
Now, I know its probably been said before, but Quistis is a friggin' genius. I should give her a medal. You know, I could probably do that.
She laid out her plan in a tone textbook dry and yet urgent voice that made it seem like a military operation. I've used that voice before, or at least that's what Kiros told me once, but yeah, but not that often.
Now, I know I'm a genius, but really, Quistis took the cake on this one. She took the whole entire cake, icing and all. And she even got to lick the cake-y bit off the candles. I tried my best not to grin insanely, but hey, it wasn't like anyone could see me.
Her plan was flawless. Sure, there was the danger of complete and cold rejection by my only living flesh and blood, but at least I wouldn't be beaten to a bloody pulp.
I punched the air enthusiastically. "Man, that's great! What do you-"
"Tomorrow night. I'll meet you at the orphanage at eleven." Quistis' curt voice interrupted. Not what I was going to ask her, but okay.
"P.M?" I shrugged.
"Yes. I will see you then, Mr. Loire." Quistis replied, before I heard the line disconnect.
Argh. 'Mr. Loire'? It sounded like an old guy who threw shoes at trespassing kids. I hung up, and decided-
. . .
. . .wait a sec. . .
Tomorrow?
I'm telling Squall tomorrow?
Usually, I don't get too eloquent with my swearing, but hey, my delayed reactions aren't my fault.
(¯`'·.¸(¯`'·. .author's note. .·'´¯)¸.·'´¯)
So they're meeting after dark now, hmm? Still angsty, but with amazing fluff potential. But I doubt that will happen. I'll save most the fluff for the other fic I've deliberated on. It won't hinder this fic any, I only do one at a time.
I wasn't in a very angsty mood this chapter. I even thought up some humorous points: Ever notice that in the game, their weapons just disappear after battle? It's like, Laguna can fit a grenade launcher in his pants. Or maybe he's just happy to us. Who knows?
. . . And remember. Those who live by the sword get shot by those who don't.