- One month later-
I stare with a painfully familiar expression at the computer monitor in front of me. For most, the look that is distinctly goofball spread all over my features would not be a great surprise. Also so the bemused little noises that straddle the boundary between 'eh?' and 'eep' and my habit of sticking out my tongue when concentrating intently. I don't notice the people around me today, though; how can I, with this hanging over me? There's just too many issues all vying for space at the forefront of my mind and I can't focus with so many loose ends to deal with. Ducking outside, I find myself some fresh air and a quick cigarette; the latter action obviously voiding the former. My nerves haven't felt such a blow as this since the last Lunar Cry and even then I think I got through it without standing outside like a misbehaving schoolboy seeking a secret nicotine fix. I'm getting too old for these shocks. Staring up at an unhelpful sky, I inhale deeply and try to think. Obviously, the first problem that needs tackling is how I was not privy to this information in the first place. Being handed it by some enthusiastic young thing of an intern from a hospital on the borders is bad enough, but I don't understand why it was ever hidden from me in the first place. Surely these kinds of documents should have been filed long ago; under clear headings so that I, the President, was aware of the situation? I mean, this is Esthar, land of sublime technology! If I can't even be updated correctly on our dangerous war criminals then I really need to be thinking about the state of my country.
Flicking my thumb against the cigarette, I scowl at the ground. It doesn't make sense to me, how this has been able to occur. I don't normally find mistakes and errors overly frustrating. I prefer to take them into my stride and try to iron out the administrative problems rather than throw out employees right, left and centre, but this mistake makes my blood boil. Ever since Seifer was released from bail and delivered into the neon, welcoming hands of Esthar's borders, -probably the only place in Gaia where he had a chance of keeping his life-, I'd asked for close monitoring. I was assured that it would be done and sure enough, the critical observation paid off. We soon had him marked as an international terrorist with intentions towards Sorceress War mark 3 and I was able to bring Balamb and Galbadia Gardens on board to help with investigations. Trabia remained cautious in our triangular alliance, but it promised support if need be. I was right in the centre of a rising storm of controversy, knowing that within a year I might have Seifer where he belonged; with a thick cord of rope around his neck and a crowd of onlookers at his hanging feet. It's not personal, really. It's just my belief that he should have paid for his sins with his own life. Brainwashed or otherwise, a true man will take responsibility for his actions and will not shy away. That he could escape scot-free for the lives he took whilst my son and his friends were interrogated about their use of GFs and inundated with threats of their removal, that shocked the hell out of me. There was a time when they were questioning the SeeDs that saved the world and asking whether the end justified the means, and meanwhile, nobody even gave a thought to the true villain. I just thought that justice had cast its eyes elsewhere the day the Seifer Almasy escaped the death penalty. And that, oh that just made his preparations all the sweeter. I thought that we were about to bring the man down and dole upon him the punishment that he had miraculously escaped the first time round. I was vengeful, I was angry and I was cunning. Not qualities the general public might associate with Laguna Loire, but that's what happens when a man messes with my son.
So maybe it's just the tiniest bit personal, after all.
There wasn't anything sinister in the delivery of the information previously kept from me. The informant was no older than nineteen, I'm told, and currently completing an internship with hopes of becoming a doctor later in life. He'd found the information when carrying out some menial task upon the computer belonging to his boss for the week; a nurse whose name or reputation I wasn't aware of until I ran some searches on her. It was then that I realised that his strange claims seemed to ring true. At first, you see, I just dismissed the page of rabbiting as being the product of the poor boy's imagination, being overworked and underappreciated in the medical world. Only the heavy underlines below the name 'Seifer Almasy' made me look twice and I must admit that I nearly choked on my coffee when I read the word 'schizophrenia'. It was a disorder that I was not overly familiar with and after some moments of reflection, I'd begun to pour over the information more carefully. The boy had written merely that he'd found the following documentation and that he could only assume that the aforementioned nurse had forgotten to update the records held by the government about its citizens. I can only presume that he thought he was being exceptionally helpful, taking a chance on the governmental ignorance in the hope of plaudits or praise from the President. With this covering note and its dubious claims that Seifer was suffering under the disorder paranoid schizophrenia, I turned to the records that the boy had referred to with grave interest.
It was when I skimmed through the pages of carefully typed text that I realised that there had probably been no mistake. These records had never been meant for my eyes, that much was clear. They were not the basic outlines to a character as would suit the government files on Estharian citizens. There was clear, medical examination and a full mental health analysis, plus ample detail on treatments, progress and other personal details besides. This was the kind of online folder one would keep as a private record of a solitary patient, almost a shrine to a psychopath tended to by a caring, intrigued nurse. This was not for public view. I frowned all the more, scanning through every word with rising disbelief. Without a doubt, the story was true. There was too much in these records and the official markers from the hospital incriminating every page for it to be a silly game. Everything I would have needed to know was right in front of my eyes; every question I could have asked about Seifer's condition or his response to treatment, even his exact symptoms, worries and triggers. I had all the ammunition I ever would have needed for an official investigation but it had all come too late. His diagnosis was already some twelve weeks old and his treatment over two months begun. Though the papers told me his progress was stagnant and had been from the beginning, I still felt that my hopes had been dashed. I realise that I can't be omnipotent, but the most dangerous citizen in the whole of my country has managed for two months to gain treatment for a terrifying disease that I wasn't even aware he possessed? That suggests to me one of two explanations; that my government has recently fallen apart entirely without my knowledge, or he's had an extremely good mole keeping him underground. As I ground out the cigarette and head back inside, I know where my money lies.
Swivelling around on the computer chair to face the accusatory screen once more, I pick up a pen and chew it thoughtfully. Looking for insider information; anyone protecting him, anyone with a motive to keeping him alive. Almost as soon as the thought crosses my mind, I regret it for the effect it has on my body. Frozen, I shake my head. Can't be. But he would know...No. No. I can't possibly be suspecting my own son. Just because he was sent out to observe Seifer, the fact that he's there doesn't mean he working for the enemy. Maybe he's not aware of it, any more than I was not two days ago. The mole has perhaps hidden it from him, too. That would be much more plausible. Squall thinks he's doing his job when in fact, the tables are about to turn on him. Satisfied, I begin reading through the reports again. Initially, there is nothing to say who brought Seifer in and whether there ever was such a person. It's only when I get to later pages detailing more descriptive elements to Seifer's treatment and progress that I come across my first clue. Minutes from a meeting held within the hospital to decide on the best course of action for Seifer, scrawl wildly across the page and I blink. It appears that initially, counselling sessions and similar emotionally supportive facilities were used on Seifer, to back up the use of four different types of drugs. Risperdal, prescribed to help control his delusions and hallucinations, haldol to reduce the occurrences of manic episodes in which Seifer most often becomes violent, buspirone for the anxiety that accompanies his illness and a newer anti-depressant called celexa. He is not a permanent resident at the hospital but the issue had been discussed numerous times during the meeting due to his slow progress. His responses to the aforementioned drugs had not been as successful as hoped and the doctors had discussed the possibility of more dramatic measures. Certainly they wanted him to become an in-patient, but it seemed that Mr. Leonhart had fought this option tooth and nail.
...Hang on.
I retrace the last sentence and stare at it wide-eyed. Pushing my chair back from the desk I fold my arms,stare at the ceiling and sigh heavily towards it. So Squall's involved. Deeply involved, by the sound of it. And executing a perfect betrayal, just to add the icing to the cake. My first thought after consideration whether my hands would fit around his scrawny neck is whether Quistis is fully aware of the situation. If I wasn't meant to see these files, then I can hardly think that she'll know more than I did. This seems to be confidential information hidden far too well by that son of mine and I know I have to contact her. A few attempts on my office 'phone and I reach her, undoubtedly delaying her from her Garden duties. Guilt flashes through me in a second but I know I have to update her on the situation. Balamb, Trabia and Galbadia are waiting on my call, not to mention to future of Esthar; none of us are out of the woods just yet. Seifer may not be a Knight once more, but he is crazy and I'm not entirely sure which is worse right now.
"President Loire?" Her voice comes through the receiver, a busy, clipped tone. I've taken her away from something, I can tell. It was the same voice Raine used to use on me when I distracted her from cooking dinner with another anecdote about Winhill's finest monsters picking on Kiros.
"Quistis. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me. I've a feeling it'll be worth the inconvenience."
"No trouble, I've been hoping you would call. We've got no further at all contacting Squall." A gentle noise in the background tells me that she has just settled down into her chair and I am relieved to hear it. I hope I've got her attention for a while. "We've tried every way we can think of to let him know we need to talk to him, but nothing. Short of sending someone in..." Her voice tails off with regret. "If only I hadn't been such an impulsive idiot..."
"It's not your fault. Squall's not the easiest guy to cope with, especially when he has his mind set on something." Believe me, I know. He's the son that refuses to accept his father most of the time. We've made some progress; as much as can be made what with him being so quiet and removed, but he remains mostly independent of me. I'll keep trying, though. A little part of me has always wanted a son.
"All the same, I shouldn't have lost my temper with him. I guess I'm just stressed, what with the importance of his mission and what he's done. I honestly thought he had more sense than to take Seifer's side and start making excuses for him. He'll only be hurt when it backfires on him and Seifer launches that first attack he's got planned in that little, evil head of his. It must be getting close to that time, too. Too close."
She knew that Squall had pledged allegiance to Seifer? And why wasn't I included in this exclusive piece of gossip? If I were twenty years younger and more of a petty nature, I'd be tempted to without my information from her as revenge, but the stakes are stacked way too high for such games.
"Quistis, I need to talk to you about Seifer."
"Oh? Oh, no...He hasn't started already?" Her voice takes on a distinctive concerned tone and her breath hitches at the end of the sentence. She is afraid of what my answer will be and who could blame her? A Garden to be imminently attacked and no gunblade-wielding war-hero around to help her.
"No. I'm...well. What did Squall say to excuse Seifer, exactly?" Squall doesn't lie outright, -except where I'm concerned evidently-, and his decisions are usually based either on facts or solid, firm feelings. He doesn't respond to whims or premonitions, and I'm curious as to why he was so quick to defend his arch-rival, let alone abandon his hometown over it.
"There was a fair amount of naivety, actually." She responds after a thoughtful pause. "I was surprised. He said something about believing that Seifer wasn't in his right mind. Honestly, it was worse than that brainwashing idea that was tossed about to get Seifer off the death row."
"Quistis, I hate to tell you this, but I've got some new information. Very new, as it happens."
"I don't see why that should be a problem, President Loire. I'm always happy to hear of developments, especially with incidents like this. We've all been so worried." I can tell that much from her voice and it concerns me slightly; Quistis isn't one to admit weakness often.
"It appears, from a series of documents that have been leaked to me, that Squall was right."
A painfully long pause settles over the conversation, such that I find myself wincing as it continues to draw out. Being unable to stand it any longer, I continue. "I'm sorry, Quistis. It's just that I've been given details on Seifer that allude to mental illness. Paranoid schizophrenia is the apparent diagnosis and-"
"President Loire, I..." There is a long sigh before she regains the power of coherent speech. "I'm sorry. Please, explain further."
"Truth be told, I wish I could with confidence." I admit, scratching the back of my neck with one hand. "Yesterday I received from the government a folder of papers with a covering note. This informed me that on the disc enclosed in the package, I could find useful information as to the condition of one of the country's most famous war criminals. The informant, a young intern at a hospital on the borders, found the details whilst completing a task for his temporary boss, also Seifer's head therapist. He must have assumed that she had made in error in not having them forwarded to the government records, for obviously I had no idea that he was even sick, much less that resources were being used to treat him."
"I see." She says, breaking up my story to enable her to breathe and calm herself, it seems. Her voice, though still trembling slightly, becomes steadier and she adds, "I see. Hospital details were leaked out, and it appears that their being hidden was intentional?"
"I imagine so. There's too much personal information and data of a less professional nature for them ever to see the light of day, to be honest. It seems to be a record kept by the nurses themselves, used in Seifer's treatment to keep a close eye on him, but nothing more clinical than that. I suspect there's proper files kept somewhere for the eyes of us politicians." My voice is bitter but I can't help it. Anger surges through me at the actions of my people, the deceitful and dangerous actions that some individuals will allow themselves to commit, and for what?
"So somebody has worked pretty efficiently to keep this from ever being recorded, then? Someone has forced it all underground, disguised it and kept it shut away. Doesn't take a genius to work out who that might be, does it?" She responds, tone hard and unhappy.
"Not really, but you knew of his previous inclinations towards Seifer. I was lead to blame him only when I read his name amongst the files. He's been assembling with Seifer's doctors and other staff for meetings about the man's progress, and so forth. Seems to be his only caregiver and thus the responsibility for ongoing treatment rests on his shoulders." I sigh a little. "So it often is with schizophrenia, I am lead to believe by the documentation."
"That explains everything, then?" She asks, as if she could not believe such a simple solution. "His claims of world dominations, of being a Knight, of behaving strangely, everything that Squall had the decency to feed back to us before he joined the dark side?" It's rare that I hear sarcasm from Quistis and I have to admit to liking it. It's comforting to know that she gets as pissed off as I do. I admire feisty women.
"It would seem so, it's all down here. Delusions, hallucinations, paranoia, anxiety and his withdrawal from the rest of society. Couple that with his anger and unexplained temper and it looks like a dead cert."
"So there really isn't a Sorceress, nor a forthcoming war, it's all been...Seifer's imagination?"
"According to this, yes. I wouldn't doubt it, either. I'll check it but it looks damn near official enough to me. I think we can safely say that there's not going to be a war any time soon, at least not on his terms. The problem is that-"
"Knowing that he's mentally ill doesn't reassure us anymore than our previous suspicions did." She finishes, sharply tapping one fingernail against the receiver.
"Exactly." I answer, nodding my head once. "I don't know what you're thinking but I imagine we need to open up converse with the other Gardens before we make any moves. They'll need the situation explaining to them and we need their input. Only then can we move forward, if indeed we intend to do so."
"Laguna?" She says softly, the retreat into the more comforting, less formal name emphasising her own vulnerability. I can hear the tiny shake in her voice as she says it and I hope to Hyne that I'm not that terrifying. I can get angry quickly, but I'm like a storm; I blow over quickly. Nothing to be really afraid of.
"Quistis? What is it?"
"If you had the final decision on this, what would you do?" She finishes weakly, the tapping ceasing. All I can hear is her near-whisper and I feel suddenly afraid of how young, and how scared, she is.
I think for a moment. "I'd have to do the best thing for my country." I admit, hating myself for the political pretentiousness but knowing it to be true. Much as I would like to go cart wheeling down my own route, I've been in this job too long to be able to forget my duties. Esthar is my number one priority in the case like this and that leaves me with little choice. Unfortunately, the option that I will now most likely have to take doesn't look anywhere near as appealing as it did only an hour ago, but then...Squall's involved now, isn't he?
"What would that be?" She continues timidly, overburdened with chaotic changes that she obviously wasn't prepared for. There is a slight hint of hope in her voice, almost, as if she is praying that my answer will serve to put this demon totally, and utterly, to rest for her. It's again rare that I hear Quistis so dejected, but it seems that this case has probably taken a lot out of her. It's understandable that she might want to just give in and escape from it; I'm sure anyone would in her situation. To be honest, I wish I could do it.
"I'd have to try and remove him, for public safety. If this were the first controversial incident surrounding him then it wouldn't be as great a problem as it is now, but his past might well dictate his future. He got away lucky the first time and that significantly lessened his chances this time around." My mind screams the name of my son at me, wondering at what he's got himself into with Seifer and the extent to their relationship. I don't want to think that it could be anything more than platonic; the idea is too distressing given the sentence I may be soon to give to Seifer. I also hardly think it likely that Squall would enter any kind of union with a madman, let alone one who on numerous occasions tried to kill him, but then sometimes I feel I barely know my own son. He could be harbouring masochistic tendencies and a kink for this kind of thing, for all I'm aware. It's all too possible that they're romantically involved, given Squall's persistent protection of the older, deranged man. Urgh, I'm too old-fashioned for this. In my day, we courted pretty females, got leg cramp and then had songs written in our honour. How times have changed, and my son at the forefront.
The tapping slowly rises as I speak, and the thought crosses my mind that Quistis has recovered her composure; perhaps because she has guessed the meaning of my explanation and is comforted by it. I become surer of this idea as she responds,
"You mean to imprison him for the remainder of his illness or his days; whichever is longest, or to have him killed?"
I swallow the lump in my throat that very suddenly comes about and reply, "I worry, Quistis, that I may have no other option but to choose the latter."
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