Don't own FFVIII.
Winhill hadn't changed at all.
It had been over three years since he had last visited the rolling hills of the countryside town, and even those three years ago, he hadn't had the courage to walk through the city itself. He had just taken the long path around the city and into the cemetery. Too many angry faces and accusations awaited him in the city.
Today, though, was different. Today made it near twenty years since Raine had died, and he hadn't walked through the city in nearly that long. He thought it only right that he pay the town a visit after so long.
He hadn't expected it to change at all, and therefore had been neither disappointed nor surprised.
A slight breeze ruffled his long brown bangs as he made his way through the streets. They were empty, even more so than they should have been. He had expected no less, however. Married to Raine or not, he was still an outsider, a soldier.
Even Ellone received no greetings from the village because she was with Laguna. She followed a short distance behind him, the wind playing with her own short brown hair and her green shawl.
Laguna was oddly silent as he made his way through the streets of the town, occasionally glancing around and taking in the sights. The old church near the front of town, the flower shop down the road, the city square with the mansion looming in the center.
He stopped in front of the pub and leaned back, pushing some of his graying hair out of his green eyes.
It was a few minutes before he sighed and continued on, brushing his hands over the walls of the building but not entering. Ellone still followed him.
They passed the old house he had stayed in without any more than a second glance from Laguna, and made their way out of the city and into the nearby hills.
The small Winhill cemetery awaited them, still and quiet and empty. The silence around them might have been deafening, but the cries of a few birds broke it as a soft breeze ran through Laguna's bangs.
He started his walk through the cemetery slow, nearly meandering between the graves. His steps were slow and wandering, and he nearly stopped completely several times, taking time to reassure himself and regain his breath. At last, he made his way up the hill, as he had so many times before. After reaching the top, he sank to his knees, examining the headstone before him as he clenched his hands into fists.
"Hey, Raine."
The silence in the air was once again broken by the distant cry of birds and the sound of wind in the trees.
"It's . . . been a long time now, ain't it?" He ran one hand over the lettering on her headstone. Raine Loire. Not Leonhart. Loire. "Twenty . . . twenty whole years, now. I ain't been here in, what, three or so. Since Squall . . . our son, Raine, our son . . . since he saved the world. It's been a while."
There was another brief pause. Ellone lingered at the bottom of the hill, biting her lip and toying with her shawl.
"I told him, you know," Laguna said to the headstone, as if Raine was actually sitting before him. "I told him, but I don't know whether he didn't want to listen or just didn't want to forgive, or . . . I don't know, Raine. I've messed up again. Worse than ever. This is the worst I've ever done, Raine. And I . . . I feel awful for it. I really do." He paused long enough to bring his hands to his face.
"I never should have left," he said through a throat choked with suppressed tears and sobs. "I wish I had never left. Then maybe you'd be here now."
He managed to calm himself for a moment, bringing his hands back down. His tears never fell. He had learned how to force them back into the corners of his eyes. He had learned how to ignore them.
In public, anyway.
"Happy . . . happy birthday, Raine," he said at last.
For some time after that, he tried to speak only to have the words catch in his throat, leaving his mouth working dry and silent. He swallowed several times, attempting to find something to say, anything to say, some way to force the words from his throat.
But it never worked.
At last, he gave a halfhearted swipe at his eyes. "I'm . . . sorry." Despite his efforts, the tears wouldn't stop. "I should have come back. Shouldn't have made promises I couldn't keep. I . . . I don't know."
"Uncle Laguna?" Ellone had come up the hill, and put one hand on one of Laguna's shoulders.
He raised a hand, unable to look her in the eye. "I'm okay, Elle. I'm okay."
"No, Uncle Laguna, you're not," she replied, forcing him to make eye contact. He could only look at her for a moment before he glanced away, ashamed that this time he couldn't stop his own tears. Elle shook her head, raising her shawl to wipe Laguna's cheeks.
"It's okay to cry, Uncle Laguna."
"I'm sorry, Elle," he whispered.
She shook her head again, eyebrows knitting. "Uncle Laguna, I know it's hard for you. But I'm here, and Kiros and Ward will be coming to pick us up soon. We're all here for you, Uncle Laguna."
He wouldn't—or maybe he couldn't—look at her. "It's . . . it's just not the same, Elle."
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a loose hug. "Uncle Laguna, it's been a long day for you. I think maybe you should get some rest."
He laughed, bitter and half-spiteful. "Where? They won't let me stay in the inn. And I have things to do, Elle, I can't just take a break and just—"
"Uncle Laguna." Her tone was both concerned and forceful at the same time. "I am not going to let you overwork yourself. You need to get some rest."
"Elle, I can't just—"
"Uncle Laguna, you're worrying me. And you're no good to anyone when you're like this. There's got to be something I can do. Anything."
He shook his head. "I don't think there is, Elle. I just . . . it's just like this for me, all right?"
"It doesn't have to be, Uncle Laguna. Please, let me just—"
"Forget it, Elle."
"Hey, Laguna!"
He turned to look as Kiros' voice caught his attention, and started to get to his feet. Kiros and Ward were coming up the hill toward him and Ellone, and he raised a hand "Kir—"
"Uncle Laguna!" Ellone shot to her feet, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed. Laguna suddenly doubled over as a ringing filled his head. He glanced back up at Ellone, his vision swimming from the pain that filled his head, and then he felt himself collapse, losing all control of his own body.
His eyes closed a moment later of their own accord, and he felt a sudden lurching sensation of being pulled.
He tried to move, but the sensation continued and he found that nothing would respond to him. If he was still conscious—which he doubted, despite the fact that he was thinking perfectly coherently—his body had gone beyond the realm of his control.
He was left with his thoughts, the feeling of being pulled, and the darkness.
A moment later, the sensation abruptly stopped, and he felt . . . different. He wasn't quite sure how, but something was off.
He opened his eyes—at least now he could do that much—and found himself feeling oddly detached from his body. His surroundings were hazy for a few moments before he blinked them into focus.
He was in Raine's room. The room they had shared, if only briefly.
Why was he here?
How had he gotten here?
And then his body moved. He didn't want to move, himself, but he was moving. Toward the door, where the knob was rattling and there were suppressed giggles and shrieks just outside.
He noticed how long his fingernails were as he gripped the doorknob. And how unusually slim his hand was as opposed to normal.
The moment he turned the doorknob and pulled the door open, a little girl with bouncy brown curls and an infectious giggle ran in and hid behind his legs.
Which, come to think of it, were also much skinnier than they should have been.
"Protect me, protect me!" the little girl said, wheezing in-between giggles.
. . . Elle?
"What's going on?" A short laugh.
That was not his voice. It wasn't even a man's voice. And the laugh wasn't, either.
He—his body—whoever he was—knelt down and pushed back Ellone's hair as she babbled excitedly and clung to him. He shook his head, and some long brown hair fell over his shoulder.
There were chills going down his spine. And yet, there weren't, because it wasn't his spine to give chills.
He glanced up for a second and caught a glimpse of himself—the body he was in, at any rate—only to find a pair of stormy blue-grey eyes gazing back at him, from the face of a woman who wore a yellow sweater. Her hair was brown and hung long over her shoulders and back.
He was looking at Raine.
Then, his body—Raine—moved again, and continued to adjust Ellone's hair. "Now, Ellone, you're talking too fast. Can you calm down a little and tell me what's going on?"
Ellone took a deep breath and started to say something before letting out a shriek and pointing toward the door. Raine whirled around, standing up as she did, to face Laguna.
He had been so much younger then. Not a wrinkle, not a single grey hair. His hair was longer than he remembered it being, with a few disobedient strands hanging over his face.
"Fee, fie, fo, fum!" he boomed in what he had thought probably to be a terrifying monster voice, but which only sounded absolutely ridiculous now that he heard it through someone else's ears. "Where is the little girl?"
Ellone shrieked again and clung to Raine's legs.
"Laguna, what are you doing? You're scaring her," Raine said, shaking her head at the other him.
"We're just havin' fun, Raine, really," he said, dropping the monster voice. "I mean, just playin' an' stuff."
"Nuh-uh!" Ellone retorted in a bossy tone. "He's gonna get me, Raine! He's gonna get me and tickle me t'death!"
Raine turned to look at Ellone. "And tickle you to death?" she said, raising an eyebrow. The younger Laguna shoved his hands into his pockets and gave the two a half-wince, half-grin.
"Yup!" Ellone replied, still holding tightly to Raine's legs. "He's a tickle monster, Raine!"
"Oh, well then," Raine said, putting her hands on her hips and eyeing Laguna. "We'll just have to do something about that, won't we?"
"Um?" The younger Laguna inched back toward the doorframe. "Really, Raine, it was all in fun an' stuff. I didn't mean any harm or nothin'."
"Or anything," Raine corrected, and jumped at him. He yelped as he fell hard onto the floor, Raine on top of him.
"Hi," Raine said, grinning.
"Uh, hi?" he replied, and then yelped as she used his one weakness against him—she started tickling him.
"Come on, Ellone! I've got him!" Raine called. Ellone skipped over, shaking her head at Laguna.
"This is why you don't play tickle monster, Uncle Laguna," she said in the most sagely tone her four years of age could manage. "It always comes back to bite you in the a—" She cut herself off from using the word she had heard Laguna use so many times when Raine gave her a look. "—in the bum."
His younger self flailed and yelled as someone made their way up the narrow stairs, leaning against the wall and watching.
"Kiros! Help!"
"I think not, my man. You got yourself into this, and you can sure get yourself out," Kiros said, chuckling under his breath.
"Oh yeah, what kind of friend are yo—ah!" He was cut off mid-word as Ellone joined in on the tickling. "Hey, stop that, no fai—hey!"
Kiros just watched as Raine and Ellone finished the job and sat back on the floor, leaving Laguna wheezing and limp, limbs sprawled every which way.
"That," Laguna managed, "was not fair."
"All's fair in love, war, and tickle monster games," Raine said. She got to her feet, dusting herself off, and gave Ellone a gentle push forward. "Go play with your toys. Uncle Laguna and I will come out shortly."
"Okay!" Ellone replied, skipping off down the hall toward her room. Kiros gave the two a small nod.
"I'll keep an eye on Ellone until you get Dork Incarnate back on his feet, Raine." He made a small gesture toward Laguna, who in return flailed about a bit to show he was still alive.
"Thanks, Kiros," Raine replied, shaking her head at Laguna as Kiros headed off after Ellone. "You, Laguna, need to get up."
"It really wasn't fair, y'know," he protested.
"Oh, and chasing after Ellone and yelling 'fee fie fo fum' was?" He could feel Raine rolling her eyes. She leaned over, offering Laguna a hand. "Come on, you."
He grinned, reaching up to take her hand—and yanked her down on top of him as soon as he had a good grip.
Raine yelped. "Laguna Loire, what are you doing?"
He gave her a smile about as innocent as one on a kid who had snitched cookies before dinner. "It was an accident, Raine!"
"Oh yes, Laguna, and I really believe that," she huffed, trying to pull away from him. He had moved his hands to her waist, however, and had a decently good grip. "Laguna Loire, you let me up this instant."
"Don't wanna," Laguna replied in his best impersonation of Ellone's lisp.
"Laguna, don't start your baby-talk act now. Let me go."
Laguna sighed and let go of Raine's waist, only to bring his hands up to her face. "I mean it when I say I don't wanna."
. . . There was a distinct stinging sensation at the back of Raine's eyes. Along with an aching in the pit of her stomach, and Laguna caught a fleeting thought of he doesn't mean that how you think he does, Raine.
He wanted to tell her that he did. He did so much that it hurt. He wanted to tell her so badly.
But the younger him let go of her and looked away quickly. "We'd better go make sure Elle isn't giving Kiros a makeover or something. She has a talent with things like that."
The sinking feeling in Raine's stomach heightened, and Laguna could nearly feel the tears she was holding back. "Right," she agreed, and stood up.
And his surroundings faded to black as Raine blinked.
Ellone? he wondered, curious as to whether she could hear him. This had to be her work—it was the only thing that made sense about the whole situation.
Yes, Uncle Laguna, she replied. It's me.
Why are you—
Uncle Laguna, please. I need to concentrate, and I can't do it if you're distracting me.
But, Elle—
Trust me, Uncle Laguna. You need this.
There was another feeling of being pulled somewhere, and his surroundings started to blue into focus again.
Try to remember, Ellone said. Please, Uncle Laguna. I can't stand to see you like this.
It was raining. But he somehow couldn't feel the drops hitting him.
Please, Uncle Laguna.
His leg. There was something very wrong with his leg.
And his right arm.
And his left arm, too.
. . . with his whole body, come to think of it.
He wasn't moving quite right. He could feel himself swaying and oh Hyne his leg hurt, he probably shouldn't be walking on it but he had to find them—
A soldier approached him from the gates of a small town. He collapsed, the pain in his leg finally too much to bear, and realized as he fell that both his arms were broken.
"Hey, are you all right, there?"
He shook his head and spat blood. "K—" he had to struggle to say the names, though they felt so important. "Kiros. Ward. Where . . ." He choked mid-sentence.
But his voice was his own. Even if it was twenty years younger.
"Hey, you're injured!" The soldier turned and gave a shrill whistle, and two more came running. "Can you tell me your name? Your rank? Anything?"
" . . . 'guna," he managed, then coughed up another spatter of blood. "Laguna Loire. Major."
"Let's get you into town," the soldier muttered, slinging one of Laguna's arms over his shoulders.
Laguna screamed then. The pain was blistering and burning and freezing all at once, and he could hardly stand it.
His eyes were screwed too tightly shut to see what was going on, but he felt someone else pick up his other arm. And he screamed again. A third person picked up his legs, and after screaming for so long that he lost track of time, he managed to calm himself down.
The pain had driven him into tears. It wasn't just his arms and legs, but his whole chest felt shattered, and it hurt to even breathe or flex a muscle.
"Hynedammit," he muttered. "It hurts."
"Stay calm, major," the soldier on his right muttered. "We don't have a doctor in town, but we got Raine, and she'll fix you right up."
"Kiros?" he managed. At the back of his own mind, the older Laguna wondered if he had been delirious or just wondering where his friends had ended up. "Ward?"
"They're not here, sir," the soldier said, not looking at Laguna but instead focusing on the cobblestone path winding through the village. "I'm sorry."
His head slumped, chin touching his chest. "I messed up," he whispered, his throat scratchy and hoarse from screaming and coughing up blood. He closed his eyes. "I really messed up."
"No worries, sir. Raine will take good care of you."
The door to the bar swung open with a kick, and thunder crashed as he heard, what seemed like a far distance away, Raine's voice.
"What in the world is going on here?"
"We found him outside town, Raine," the soldier on his left said. "He isn't in very good shape. We were hoping that you could take him in."
"I don't have any room here." Raine's voice was getting closer now, and Laguna attempted to lean his head back so he would be able to look at her. "Take him next door. There's an empty room up there, I'll take care of him in there. Let me get some bandages for him."
"Hurry, Raine," the third soldier said. "We don't know how bad he's hurt, but from the way he was screaming, it's not good."
"I think I heard him from here," Raine said. She sighed. "And I just mopped the floors. Quiet, we can't wake Ellone up."
Her voice was so close to his ear. He forced his eyes open, but they were out of focus. There was a blur before him, inspecting his face, fingers gripping his bloodstained dog tags.
"Major Loire," she said.
"L-Laguna," he corrected her, and his eyes focused for long enough for him to make out a pair of blue-grey eyes set in a pale face, and then he slumped and was gone.
Ellone, stop this. Please. I don't know what you're doing, but stop. I've had enough.
There was no response from her this time, just another feeling of being moved. This time, there were vague, fuzzy pictures in the darkness—bandages and bowls full of oatmeal. Having to be fed by Raine because it hurt too much to move his arms. The first time Ellone snuck into his room, insistent on playing with him.
And then he was suddenly jerked into place again, and already knew he was inside Raine's mind. She was leaning on her bar, gazing out the window. It was a hot day in the Winhill summer, so she wore a short-sleeved shirt as opposed to her favorite yellow sweater. And he could feel a long braid against her shoulders.
The door slammed open, and his younger self limped in. It hadn't been too long since he had gotten off his crutches, and his leg still hadn't recovered fully.
"It's so damn hot," he commiserated, sinking onto one of the barstools and burying his head in his arms.
Raine sighed and shook her head at him. "Language, Laguna." She turned around, picking up a cup and filling it with tap water before handing it to him.
He gave the glass a long, hard look. "No beer?" he said at last.
"The last thing the town needs, Laguna Loire, is for its monster exterminator to be drunk on the job. You get water. Drinking is a bad habit anyway."
"Right," he said, taking a long drink. He set it down, wiped his mouth, and raised an eyebrow. "And who's the one running a bar?"
"That has nothing to do with this, Laguna!"
"Sure, sure, Raine, whatever you say."
"Uncle 'Guna!" Ellone dashed down the stairs, nearly tripping in her rush to get to Laguna. "Did you get 'em? Did you kill them monsters?"
"Those monsters, Ellone." Raine sighed. "Laguna, you've got to speak proper English around her, or she'll never learn."
"Right, right," he said dismissively before leaning over and scooping Ellone into his lap. "Hey, Princess, try not to run down the stairs so fast, 'kay?"
"But why not?" she asked, peering up at him.
"Because you'll get hurt!" Laguna said. "And that ain't good, 'cause it'll make Uncle Laguna cry!"
"Proper English, Laguna?" Raine repeated, shaking her head. "Why do I even try? It's not worth my time."
"I don't want Uncle Laguna to cry!" Ellone wailed, seemingly oblivious to Raine's complaint.
"Then you gotta be careful, 'kay?" Laguna said, smiling and running one hand through Ellone's hair. "Even when you're goin' around outside. There's monsters out there, after all."
She let out a small squeak and clung to Laguna. "I don't want the monsters to get me, Uncle Laguna!"
He shook his head at Raine, and Laguna again felt her roll her eyes.
"Don't worry, Elle," he said, patting the little girl on the back. "If anything happens, you just call for Uncle Laguna and he'll come save you, okay? It's a promise."
"Pinky swear?" she asked, leaning back and holding out her pinky. Laguna chuckled, linking his own pinky with hers.
"Pinky swear."
Laguna caught another few of Raine's fleeting thoughts before things faded away into darkness—that's actually kind of sweet of him. I wonder how much longer he's planning on staying here—
And then, the movement much quicker this time, he found himself working in the flower fields, fingers covered in mud.
"Laguna, when are you going to leave?" Raine's voice asked from somewhere behind him.
"Huh? You mean, quit workin' here for the day? Whenever you're done, I guess."
"No, that's not what I mean, Laguna. When are you going to leave Winhill?"
"Oh," he said, and paused in working with the flowers momentarily. "Do you . . . do you want me to leave?"
"Laguna, stop being stupid," she said, and the older Laguna could tell she was dodging the question, though he knew his younger self didn't have a clue. "You have things you want to do with your life, don't you? Travel the world, be a journalist?"
"Well, yeah," he conceded, concentrating on yanking out weeds, "but . . ."
"But what, Laguna?"
He shrugged, tossing the weeds to the side, but refused to turn and look at Raine. "But I'm needed here right now."
"Laguna, there are other soldiers around here who could do the same job you do," Raine replied. "And you're never going to get anywhere with this dream of yours if all you do is stay here. This town isn't the place for anyone to stay if they want to really do something great with their life. What about that friend of yours? Kiros? Didn't he say something about Timber Maniacs looking for writers? You should go."
Laguna said nothing, just ripped another weed out of the dirt and tossed it aside.
"So?" Raine asked.
"I'm needed here," he repeated.
"Laguna, didn't you hear what I already said to you?"
"Maybe I should rephrase that. I can't leave."
"Why not?"
He shrugged. "Just 'cause."
"Laguna . . ."
"Forget it, Raine. I just . . ."
It was an odd experience to hear your own thoughts. Laguna could remember thinking these things, and now he was hearing himself thinking them.
I can't leave you here. I can't leave Ellone here. I've got to make sure that you two are safe.
I . . . I don't want to leave you.
" . . . I just can't, okay?"
Raine knelt down beside him, shaking her head. "You can so, Laguna. You've got to go and chase your dream."
He turned to look at her, examining her face, and felt himself wanting to kiss her, wanting to tell her just why he couldn't leave, wanting to hold her and tell him he loved her.
He managed to do one of them. "I gotta take care of you an' Elle."
Raine's eyebrows lifted, and she tilted her head to the side. "We'll be fine, Laguna. We managed when you weren't here before."
"That was before," he said. "And . . . Raine, even if I left now, I'd always wonder. 'Are they doin' okay? How's Elle growing up?' That kind of thing."
Did Raine ever get married? his thoughts continued down the line. Does he treat her all right? Like she should be treated?
Raine shook her head and moved to pull out another weed, the sleeves of her shirt rolled back to her elbows. At the same time, Laguna moved his hand toward the same weed, his thoughts elsewhere.
They touched for a moment.
And Laguna jerked his hand away, blood rushing to his face. "S-Sorry."
But when he looked at Raine, she was smiling at him. And maybe he was imagining it, but it looked like she was blushing too.
And things faded again. Laguna had given up on getting Ellone's attention, trying to get her to stop. There was a blur of memories moving past him, images and sensations, two rings, one on his finger and one in the palm of his hand—this is it, Laguna, this is it—
It was still dark.
"I used to hate you," Raine's voice said.
"Can't say I blame you," Laguna replied, very close to Raine's ear.
"I thought you were just another soldier. An outsider, like the whole town warned me. You'd walk into and out of our lives, take what you wanted and never look back. You were whiny, crying, self-centered."
"Ouch!" Laguna replied, drawing back a little. Raine opened her eyes to look at him. They were out in the hills of Winhill, under the moon and stars. "Was I really that bad?"
"You're a braggart and your language was horrendous. You never speak proper English around Ellone, even when I ask you to. You're irresponsible, you're silly, you're . . ."
"A jackass?" Laguna supplied. "I've gotten called that before."
"Oooh, you," Raine said, shaking her head. "There you go again."
"You're only mad 'cause I took the words right outta your mouth, huh?" Laguna leaned back, scratching the back of his head.
"Laguna Loire, why would I be marrying a man who's a jackass?"
He blinked at her. "Wait a sec, Raine, did you just use the word 'jackass'?"
She covered her mouth for a second, shook her head, and sighed, hugging Laguna. He tentatively returned the embrace.
"While you're all those things, Laguna, you're more," she whispered against his chest. "You're kind, and you care about what happens to people you meet. You're funny, and though you screw up all the time you always mean well."
"I don't screw up all the time," he protested. Raine laughed.
"All right, so maybe just a lot of the time, is that better?"
"Much," he said running one hand through his hair.
Raine paused for a moment, and again, from where he watched Laguna could decipher her thoughts.
Why him, indeed, Raine?
"I've heard it said," she started at last, "that there's a reason it's called falling in love. You can't control it."
"Sure as hell couldn't stop myself when it came to you," Laguna muttered.
She glanced up at him to see him smiling, and smiled back, shaking her head regardless.
"Language, Laguna."
"Right," he said, and leaned down to kiss her.
And it went dark again, though for only a brief few seconds before the silence was split by a door slamming open.
Esthar soldiers at the door. He whirled around, reaching for a gun that wasn't there, dog tags glimmering in the dim light of the bar.
"Get him out of the way." The voice that came was heavily accented and half-mechanical, filtered through the helmet that covered the soldier's whole face. One soldier nodded, summoning up a Fire spell.
It knocked Laguna backward, into the wall. He was dazed for only a moment before he got back to his feet.
But that moment had been long enough for some of the soldiers to get past him, heading toward Ellone's room.
"Laguna?" The door to Raine's room creaked open.
"Raine, stay in there! Keep the door closed!" Laguna barked.
She peeked out, eyebrows furrowed. "Laguna, what's going on?"
"Stay in there!" He replied, and forced his weight against the door. Raine yelped as the door closed, and banged against the door, demanding that he let her out.
"Uncle Laguna?"
He shook his head. "Elle! Get back in your room and close the door!"
"But Uncle Laguna—" An Esthar soldier picked Ellone up in the middle of her sentence, and she started screaming.
"Ellone!" He pulled out the first thing he found in his pocked and flung it at some of the soldiers. Flare Stone. But they must have been shielded, because it did no damage to them at all that he could see.
"Quiet the girl down," the same soldier, presumably their leader, said. The soldier holding Ellone nodded and held his hand over her eyes, casting a quick sleep spell. Ellone fell limp in the soldier's arms.
"Good. Adel wouldn't want her heir to be hurt." The head soldier gave the other a nod.
"You bastards," Laguna muttered, wishing he had his gun. But it was in the house next door, where he had left it that afternoon after his monster-killing rounds. "You put her down right now, or you'll pay for it, I swear."
The leader of the soldiers gave him a look as the ranks began to head back down the stairs. "Take care of him," he said to a nearby soldier, who nodded and raised his gun. The leader, meanwhile, turned and headed down the stairs, the soldier carrying Ellone right behind him.
"I said, put her down," Laguna said, and started forward. The soldier with his gun raised regarded Laguna for a split second, and then squeezed the trigger.
Bullets ripped through the air; Laguna collapsed as blood stained his arm and side, the soldiers carrying the unconscious Ellone outside.
"Stop!" He got back to his feet and started down the stairs, only to have Raine come out of her room and grab his injured arm. He winced.
"Laguna, what happened?"
"Raine, let me go."
"Laguna, I'm not going to do that. Now tell me what happened."
The door to the bar swung shut, and Laguna collapsed again, staring at the staircase.
"Laguna?"
"They—they took 'er," he managed, shaking his head to keep himself from crying. "They got Elle and I couldn't stop them."
Raine knelt beside him, eyes wide, shaking her head. "Who—what?"
"Esthar," he replied, not able to look Raine in the eye.
"No," she whispered, eyes wide with fear. "No. You can't be serious, Laguna, you can't—"
He choked on his words. "I'm sorry, Raine."
She flung herself against him and burst into tears.
A split second of darkness, and he was staring at himself. His younger self had rings around his eyes, which themselves were bloodshot and heavy-lidded.
"I'm going, Raine," he whispered.
Raine's voice—he was inside her again. "Be—be careful, all right?"
"I'll be fine. I'm gonna go get Kiros an' Ward, an' we'll find her. It's a promise, 'kay?"
Raine paused for a moment—she was pregnant. She didn't even know it, but now Laguna did and he should never have left her.
"All right," she said at last. "You just . . . don't get yourself killed out there, all right?"
"Don't plan on it," he said, turning away from her and fiddling with his gun.
She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.
"I mean it," she whispered. Laguna hated himself for how much pain he could feel in her, and how he knew it was his fault. "You be careful."
His other self paused, turning around and raising her face so he could meet her eyes.
"Whatever happens out there, Raine," he said, studying her carefully, "I love you."
And suddenly Raine's pain was replaced by joy, so much that Laguna could have wept.
"I love you, Laguna," she replied. "And always will."
I'll even die loving you, her thoughts said, and Laguna felt a chill at those words.
They kissed, and his vision faded.
It was dark again, and Laguna again had the odd sensation of movement, longer this time than the last few. There were stirrings, flashes of memories—his face and Raine's, seen from the viewpoint of a child, and then memories of soldiers and cold, sterile laboratories and Odine and a grinning Sorceress Adel.
And then his next body opened its eyes, as if waking from a nap.
Laguna had never felt so incredibly small. The room stretched around him like a cave, and he idly wondered where he had ended up now. There was something familiar about this place, admittedly, but it seemed far too big for anywhere he had ever been, and he knew it wasn't the Crystal Pillar. There was a vague feeling of sterility about the place—not cleanliness, which was more often calm and inviting, but cold, hostile sterilization.
He moved and picked up a small sketchpad from the floor nearby, then picking up a small crayon from the other side. The current subject was the blocky figure of a man with green dots for eyes, scrawled in the scribbles of a child.
"Uncle Laguna's coming to save me," the voice of whoever-he-was-now said, in a singsong tone wrapped in childlike lisp, and he realized where—who—he was.
There was quite some time that passed. Ellone's chubby four-year-old fingers continued the drawing, giving the drawing-Laguna thick black boots and a pair of dogtags around his neck. She colored in his hair thickly, long and dark around his shoulders, and gave his face a big smile. Eventually, she drew two other figures--a dark, slim one, with braided black hair, and a heftier man with a scar down one cheek and a bandana around his forehead.
Soon enough, she finished, and took to daydreaming, humming about how her uncle Laguna was on his way to save her from the mean sorceress lady.
And, as if brought by her thoughts, the door opened, and she looked up.
"Elle!" His younger self dashed over in an instant and scooped her into his arms, clutching her tight against him. "Oh, Elle, you're okay!"
"Uncle Laguna!" she squeaked. Laguna, at the back of her mind, could feel her relief and joy. "Uncle Laguna, you came for me!"
"That's what I promised, ain't it?" his younger self replied, and fell to his knees, still holding her against him. When he leaned back for a moment, Ellone—and the older Laguna—could see his tears were running freely down his cheeks.
And Laguna, from where he watched, was not ashamed.
There was darkness again, and he found himself lying in bed, looking Raine in the eye a moment later. They were close, and he knew that they were both naked under the sheets.
"Laguna," she whispered, and a smile flirted briefly with those lips he had kissed so many times. "I love you."
His own voice answered, coarse and unashamed, still accented with the slang he had learned as a soldier. "And I love you too, Raine. More than anything."
It was possibly the wisest thing he had ever said.
He pulled her against him and kissed her hard.
He blinked and was gone again.
The movement was slower this time, and flashes of memories again passed him by in waves. The night Elle had been taken, his promise to Raine to find her, their goodbye and his promise to come back.
The last memory he saw was the look in her eyes after he had slipped the ring onto her hand. Her eyes, wet with tears, a smile on her face as she whispered his name.
And then he awoke to find himself gazing at the ceiling of an airship cabin.
"Uncle Laguna? Are you awake?"
He turned to see Ellone beside the bed, looking exhausted.
"Elle," he said simply.
She smiled at him, and that confirmed that his dream-voyage was over.
He sat up in bed and leaned over, pulling her into an embrace.
"Thanks, Elle."
"It seemed like you needed it, Uncle Laguna," she replied, voice muffled against his shirt.
"I did," he replied.
He didn't need to see them from another's eyes to know that there were tears running freely down his cheeks.