Disclaimer: Characters and places belong to Square Enix. I'm just borrowing them for the fun of it, and I'm making no money off of it (though I wish I were).

Warnings: Mainly language in this chapter. My characters were frustrated. They enjoyed flipping the bird in the censor's direction :P

Also, I was writing this as a birthday present, way back when. I'm a shameful slacker, and figured that two years was simply too long. So, I'm back to finish the job, and then I can just pretend that writing big complicated fanfics applies only to other people, for my eternal enjoyment :P

ooooooooooooooo

(Squall-later the same evening)

Ah, it feels good just to sit down relax after a long, boring day of doing absolutely nothing. I took the dog for a car ride, went to Rinoa's place (she was gone), then stopped by Caraway's office to get some more paperwork. Caraway expressed his happiness concerning our engagement quite sincerely, heartily welcoming me into his family with several borderline annoying pats on the back. But something was off about him, something I can't quite figure out. He seemed like his mind was on other things. Whatever. I figured out from him that Rinoa and Quistis were out buying more clothes. Honestly, a person only needs so many clothes. The clothing that Rinoa owns already fills five closets, and that doesn't count the accessories. I see no point in it, but I guess it's nice that she has a hobby.

Zell was here when I got back, and was unnaturally quiet. He only said 'hi' as I passed, not even punching the air. Wonder if Seifer has anything to do with it? It doesn't matter really; I'm just slightly surprised that someone could tame theenergetic blonde. At least they were doing the work they were supposed to be doing. I read Seifer's transcripts from his law school, and was quite surprised. He was second in his class, only being surpassed by someone named 'Xu'. His schoolwork was excellent; he scored remarkably high in every endeavor. The only black mark was his attitude. Apparently he would get fed up with teachers and walk out of classes, attributing it to the fact that the teachers were 'fucking idiots'. Sad thing was, he was usually right when the teachers were wrong. It seems that Seifer does what he thinks is right, and damn the rest. It also says that he participated in an anger management class, though it doesn't state the need for it, only a certificate of completion. From the little time I've spent with Seifer, however, I can sort of guess at the reasons.

His journal flashes back into my mind, mixed with a slight stab of guilt in my stomach. Against my better judgment, curiosity overrules my guilty conscience. Maybe I'll read some of it later, after he's gone to bed. I can swear that I know him from somewhere. It's just in the way he looks at me sometimes, the way he says my name, among other things. It's almost becoming an obsession to find out the truth. I could just ask him, but that would be too easy, and possibly awkward. I don't know how he would react; I don't know for sure that he even knew me. I lean back into the couch and sigh. I don't know anything.

After a moment of silent contemplation, my peace is ruined by the phone. It rings, loud and obnoxious. I scowl at the ceiling, willing it to shut up.

Finally, after the third ring, Seifer shouts, "I got it," and the ringing stops. I listen to the hum of his voice, barely audible through his open door, and lean farther into the couch. Obviously it's not Rinoa, as I doubt Seifer would chat with her this long.

Rinoa. God, I have so much to do. I don't know how she expects me to find everything I need in only a week. I have to get her ring, my tux, a best man, pay for the cake, help pick out a wedding invitation design, and a thousand and one other things. And then with the baby, I'll need to find a proper house to support her and the child, probably get some kind of SUV, plus all that extra crap babies need that I know nothing about. I'm sure Caraway will help us out initially, but I don't want him doing too much. I need to start getting my own life together. I guess that's why I'm marrying her; I need some kind of stability in my life. But then Laguna showed up. Christ, I know he said he was my father, but I just can't picture it. What a fine mess this is turning out to be.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts as Seifer so graciously whacks me on the head. I scowl at him for daring to touch me, but he's too busy pulling on his long trench coat to notice.

"Look, Squall, something's come up. I'm going to the police station, but I should be back in about an hour."

What the hell? I frown at him, at how troubled he looks. "What's wrong?"

"The old man, ah, shit, Laguna had an accident. Heart attack or something. He's in the hospital now."

I stand quickly, not really believing this. He was just fine when I saw him. "A heart attack? How . . .?" Christ, I don't have time for this. "Take me with you. I'll walk to the hospital from the police station."

He stares at me for a few long seconds, green-blue eyes tumultuous. The image brings back a memory, which stirs in the very back of my head, but is shoved out of sight as he speaks. "Fine, but let's go. I'll tell you about it in the car."

I decide quickly that my white T-shirt will do fine for now, but almost regret the decision as soon as I step outside. The look on Seifer's face, however, states that if I want to go, he's leaving now. I follow him to his car and slide quickly into the passenger seat, small puffs of steam floating into the air with every breath, soaked to the skin from the pouring rain.

He starts the car and flips the heater on, probable more for my benefit than his. Almost surprisingly, his driving is perfectly steady. He never once goes above the speed limit as we back out and exit the dorm parking lot. I guess I was expecting him to break the sound barrier or something, with how upset he looks.

He taps his long fingers against the steering wheel, then sighs. "Someone snuck into Laguna's house and tried to kill him last night. Fortunately, one of the undercover guards Ward hired saved his ass, but Laguna had some kind of heart attack from the fright, or something. The perp is at the station right now, but refuses to talk. They've tried everything, but it ain't working. I figured I would give it a try, see if it does anything."

. . . a law student expects to crack a man experienced police officers can't? Something about that seems off to me, but I don't say anything to him, not that it seems to matter. He keeps his eyes focused on the road as if his life depends upon it. I don't know how to feel about it all, really. I don't feel much of anything, no matter how bad it sounds. Laguna says he's my father, but I don't know that for sure. I only met him once, and only for an hour. I feel bad that he's in the hospital, and I'd love to get a chance alone with the would be assassin, but I'm not completely broken up over it. I stare out the window, watching the rain fall and bounce off of the pavement.

We pass the hospital, and I'm relieved when he doesn't offer to drop me off. I'm going to need the two block walk from the police station, if only to figure out what to say to Laguna.

Seifer parallel parks perfectly in front of the police station, then waits for me to get out of the car before locking it. We both hurry for the entrance, closing the door quickly behind us. I shiver, the warmth of the room not doing much to help my temperature.

Immediately a huge man appears, seemingly from nowhere, followed by a much smaller man. The huge man, who looks to be almost a foot taller than even Seifer, walks over and claps Seifer's shoulder.

" . . ." he says, a sharp glint in his eyes. His scarred face seems to be set in a permanent frown.

Seifer nods. "I'll see what I can do. Oh, Squall, this is Ward. Ward, Laguna's son, Squall." He looks at me. "Ward is one of Laguna's trusted advisors."

I hold out my hand to the man, who takes it after a short moments hesitation. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

He nods at me, the unspoken words clear. I wonder for a moment why he doesn't talk, when Seifer says, "I'll tell you later." I look at him, not quite sure which one of us he's talking to. I don't bother to ask, either.

He takes off his heavy coat and hands it to me. "Here," he mutters, his mind elsewhere. "It might keep you dry."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem. I'll pick you up in about an hour or so. I'll call if I'm gonna be late." Then, with no further remarks, he strides off down the main hallway and takes a right at the first door.

The smaller man mutters something, which sounds like "damn him anyway", before running to catch up with Seifer.

Ward looks at me again, then smiles, as if something amuses him. I frown at him, and he holds up a finger, as if indicating me to wait. I nod, sort of impatient, as he fishes around in his pocket. Finally he pulls out a pad of paper and a pencil, and quickly scribbles something down.

I take it, curious. It reads, "It's a good thing you look like your mother."

I look up at him, uncomfortably aware of the crick in my neck. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He smiles again, shrugs, and then turns around and walks away, going the direction Seifer has taken.

I watch him go, then shake my head and stuff the paper in my pocket. I should probably get going.

I pull Seifer's jacket on, and sigh in relief at how warm it is. It smells familiar too, a warm, comforting sort of smell. I just can't remember where I may have come across it before. I look outside, almost reluctant to leave, then let my face fall back into a neutral mask. After one last look down the hallway, I leave.

ooooooooooooooo

(Seifer)

I stare at the man through thetwo way mirror, arms crossed across my chest. Ward is on my right, Lieutenant Wedge on my left. Ward hasn't done much but look pensively at the man, whereas Wedge just wants a confession so he can go home.

I cock my head to one side. I know almost everyone in Balamb, but I've never seen this guy. I figure he's from nearby, maybe Dollet or Deling City. I doubt he would be from any great distance - there would be less chance of a motive that way.

"What do we know about him?"

Wedge shrugs and sighs. "Not a lot. He had no identification, and hasn't said a word to anyone. We have no motive, no name, nothing. The fingerprints cleared." He shakes his head. "Man, if I screw this one up, there goes this month's paycheck for sure."

I snort. Everything is always about the paycheck with him. "Damn. Look, give me some time with him."

Wedge looks at me. "You got a plan?"

I shrug. "None whatsoever. I'll improvise. Ten minutes and I'm out."

Wedge bites his lip. "I dunno, Almasy. I could get fired if you screw up."

"That's why I'm not gonna screw up. Trust me here, Wedge. I got this one."

He looks about to protest, but Ward clasps his shoulder. Wedge looks at his impassive face, then sighs. "Fine, Almasy, ten minutes."

"Thanks." I clasp him on his free shoulder as I walk past, smirking a little. Almost have to feel sorry for him, really.

I push the door open and enter the room with the detainee, who doesn't even acknowledge my presence. He sits in a chair on one side of the table, head in his hands. He definitely does not look like a happy camper.

I sit across from him, and size him up. He's taller than Wedge, but shorter than I am. His hair is brown, and his features are very soft. He's one of those classic pretty boys. If I wasn't sitting across from him, knowing why he was here, I would never think him capable of something like this.

I sit back in the chair, and wait. After about a minute, a shuffling sounds reaches my ears. Ismirk. He's started bouncing his leg. It's always the first step people like him take. First with the leg, then the real nervousness, then the doubt. I lean forwards, resting my arms on the table, and look at him, still not saying a word. The tapping gets faster and faster, and his mouth quirks ever so slightly. Finally, he raises his head and looks at me, blue eyes questioning me silently.

I smirk at him. "Bout time I was noticed. Care to tell me your name?"

". . ." He stares at me levelly.

I have to chuckle a bit. If he's trying to wait me out, or whatever, it's not gonna work. I got too used to it with Squall.

"Okay, I'll start. I'm Seifer." I hold out my hand for him to shake. He just looks at it like it's diseased. I jab it at his sullen face. "Yeah, hi. It's called manners. Didn't your mother ever teach them to you?"

His eyes widen, then narrow. Tentatively, he reaches out and shakes my hand. "Jonathan."

I smirk. "Jonathan? Alright then, Johnny-boy, we need to talk."

He glares at me.

I smirk back at him. "Don't like that, do ya? Well let me tell you something. If you don't cooperate with me within the next five minutes, I can think of a whole shit load of things you won't be liking. Prison, for starters." His glare dies back to the sullen look. I lean back into the chair with a small sigh. "That's better. Now tell me, why'd ya do it?"

We engage in a battle of the stare for the better part of twenty seconds, and then he sighs and looks back at the table. "My dad's in the hospital, and mum is out of money to pay for his bills and herself."

Everything kinda clicks into place all at once. "Ah, so you're doing this for money?"

He nods the affirmative. "Fifty thousand. That would pay off the hospital, and rent for a few months."

Fifty Thousand? Shit, maybe this goes deeper than I thought. It's a lot of money to pay for a hit, even for a man of Laguna's status. I bite the inside of my cheek, debating with myself. Finally, I win. Leaning towards him, I make my offer. "Look, Johnny-boy. Tell you what. You tell us who sent you, and we'll let you off free. You tell us everything you know, and if it'sgood,we'll give you fifty-thousand. What d'ya say?" Well, there goes Wedge's paycheck.

His eyes narrow. "Fucking yeah right, man."

I shrug. "Fine. Go to prison. You're cute enough, I'm sure you'll find someone to love ya. Plus your mother will get to pay those handsome prison fees. Wouldn't that be fun? "

His glare intensifies, then he lowers his eyes and sighs. "Fine. Caraway."

I raise an eyebrow. "Caraway? You want a lawyer?"

He snaps his head up and scowls again, eyes on fire. "No, you moron. James Caraway hired me. He wants Loire dead."

I cross my arm over my chest. "Woah, Johnny. That's going a bit far. You know the kinda trouble you can get in for saying that crap?"

"But I'm telling the truth!" He shouts at me, desperation in his voice. "I met one of his men in a bar, and he called me two days ago, asked if I would do it for fifty thousand. Man, I ain't no murderer, okay? But we need the money, bad! What would you do? I don't know why he wants Loire dead; I didn't ask. I don't care, man. I needed this job!"

Something in his eyes, the way his body is positioned, tells me he's telling the truth. Jesus H. Christ. This is way over my head.

I stand up, and shake his hand. "Well, thank you very much, Jonathan. They'll have you sign a statement. Also, have them send me the address where you want the money sent, alright? But you'll only get it if this clears. Personally, I believe you. However, Caraway is big in these parts, so there will be an investigation. I wouldn't worry about it though, Laguna will probably thank you for doing this to him. He'll be glad to pay up." I almost feel bad about forcing the old man to cough up the dough, but not really. He has way too much as it is; even he says so.

I exit the room the same way I came, only to be met by a purple faced Wedge.

"ALMASY! You bloody MORON! How could you do this! Who the hell has fifty thousand dollars! Why did I let you go in there! Oh, man, this month's paycheck is soooo dead. . ."

Ward pushes him aside, and nods at me. He rubs his fingers together, indicating money, then points at himself. Yeah, the money's good.

"Thanks Ward. Hey, is Kiros at the hospital?"

He nods profusely, then makes a series of complicated hand movements, which I take to mean something like, 'he's with Laguna, and he's been there all day'.

I nod at him. "Great. I'm gonna stop by the store, then I'm gonna head up to the hospital. Do you know how he's doing?"

Ward shakes his head and shrugs.

"Alright. I'll see you later then."

He nods, and turns back to Wedge, whose face is a horrid shade of purple. Whatever. I'm sure he'll live. Hell, if this Caraway thing pans out, maybe he'll get a raise.

Too tired to even smirk in his general direction, I leave.

ooooooooooooooo

(Squall)

Some people hate hospitals. I don't, not really. Actually, considering the time I spent here, I rather enjoy it. Sometimes fate just has a cruel sense of humor. Putting Laguna in my old room, for instance. Not that it's a bad room. To be honest, it's nicer now that I'm not the one in the bed. I always found the absolute pristine whiteness of it amazingly annoying. Everything is white: the sheets, the bed, the equipment, the walls, the 638 ceiling tiles, even the doorknob. It's no wonder people die here - anything to get away from the blinding white.

Of course, Laguna wouldn't be one to have to deal with that problem. Flowers cover every available space, and then some. The floor along the walls is covered with plants of every shape, size, and color. A fewstuffed animalshave been shoved in wherever they would fit, and the 'get well' cards were graciously thrown into a corner. I don't see why someone couldn't just toss at least ninety per cent of this crap away. Looking at the man, however, I highly doubt he can find it within him to part with anything.

The man is sitting in the chair next to his bed, asleep, some book open on his chest. Must have been boring. I lean against the doorway, and simply stare at him. He looks well, for just having had heart surgery, but his face is more pale than the last time I saw him.

Sighing, I enter the room and sit on the bed. Immediately a loud humming fills the air as the mattress inflates to support my weight. ...shit. I forgot it did that.

Laguna's head snaps up, eyes surprisingly clear as he frowns at me. After a moment he groans and covers his eyes. "Sorry, but have you seen my glasses?"

Sadly, the first place I look is the top of his head, and am somewhat surprised that they aren't there. Instead, they're neatly folded and placed on the small, white nightstand, next to an exceptionally large floral bouquet. I hand the glasses to him, noting the clear frames and light weight. Heh. Someone has good taste in their vision care.

He thanks me and puts them on, blinking rapidly to clear his sight. Then, he looks at me. His wide eyed stare and gaping mouth should have been amusing, but right now it's hard to find anything truly funny. "Um," he states brilliantly. "Squall? Didn't expect to see you here." He rubs the back of his neck nervously. "This is kind of embarrassing. I don't usually wear glasses."

". . . . whatever." Like I care.

He closes his eyes and snorts in amusement. "Yeah, some things never change. So!" He tosses the book on the floor, sits up, folds his hands in his lap, and grins brightly. "What's up?"

I blink at him. "You . . . had a heart attack."

He waves at me with a slight grimace. "Yeah, but that's old news. How are you?"

"I . . . ." Is this guy for real? "I'm fine."

"Ah ah, Squall. Details! Tell me what you've been up to!"

Lord, does he have to sound so excited? "Not much. I won the Larnman case, but that was a given." The DA was pissed, but what else is new? "I had Seifer's hips checked, and the doctor said he's fine, no hip dysplasia at all." He raises an eyebrow, and I shake my head. "I have a dog. His name is Seifer."

"Really? Interesting." He narrows his eyes at me, like he's trying to see past my skin. To be honest, it's creepy.

"What?"

His head snaps up, doll like smile plastered on his face. "Nothing. What else?"

Um. "Rinoa wants to get married next week, so I guess we're doing that."

It surprises me when he doesn't do anything. I've known the man for a few short hours, and for God's sake, a scooter excited him. Yet, I mention my wedding, and he just stares at me? . . . whatever.

"You know . . . ." He sighs, and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Do you love her?"

"Of course." It doesn't offend me that he asks, but it does confuse me.

He shakes his head. "Squall, look. I know that you have amnesia, and that since meeting me again you've only been around me for a few hours. I guess you know that I like to talk, and I'll be honest, it's usually just to listen to the sound of my own voice." I smirk at this, and he returns his own weak smile. "However. There are some things I think you should know. You can do whatever you want with the information - I don't care. Just as long as you know, I'll be happy knowing that you're happy."

Right. And theaward of the year for sentimentalitygoes to Laguna Loire. ". . . ."

"Fair enough. Okay, where to start." He runs his hand through his lengthy hair and nods. "Okay. Look. I've seen you in love, okay? And this, what you have with Rinoa, it's not the same. I don't doubt that you have feelings for her, but think about it. I ask you what's new, and you tell me about your dog before telling me about your engagement? The last person you were with, whenever I asked you how you were doing, you would tell me all about how . . . um, that person was before saying anything about yourself. You had no plans for marriage, but in your eyes what you had was equal to it. Do you get what I'm saying?"

I narrow my eyes at him. Not glaring, but just thoughtfully. "I noticed you're avoiding pronouns."

He grins. "You and your damn attention to detail. It's not important." The grin leaves, to be replaced by a more serious look. "Who I really want to talk about is Caraway."

I don't bother to argue the fact that I think it's important before he's off running his mouth again.

"Caraway and I were in the army together."

I raise my eyebrows. This actually is a surprise. "James was in the military?"

He nods. "Yep. Good old General Caraway." At those words he glares off into space, then focuses the dark look on me. "You know, I doubt you'll want to hear what I'm telling you, and you may hate me, but whatever you do with it, don't dismiss it. Got it?"

God, I wish he would shut the hell up and get to the point already. "Yes."

"Good." He goes back to glaring at the 638 ceiling tiles. "I guess I should start with some back story."

. . . great.

"You see, there was this girl. Her name was Julia.

"Julia Heartilly? Rinoa's mother?"

He nods. "Right on one. God, she was lovely. Even more so than her daughter, if you'll believe it. I met her when I was eighteen years old, you know, trying to figure out what I was doing with my life. She was amazing. Full of life, funny as can be, gorgeous smile, and that voice . . ." He smiles softly. "We were engaged. I asked her to marry me the night before I was called off to serve my time in the military. It was nice, you know, having some one at home waiting for me. Anyway, I met Caraway in the army, and we became good friends. This one time we got a weeks leave, and I brought him home and introduced her. Well, long story short, he fell in love." He shrugs, the glare returning. "You know how Caraway is. He sets his sight on something and goes for it. I guess he tried to make a move on her, but she said she loved me. So, he decided to get rid of me."

"Get rid of you?"

"Yeah. You know, kill me."

" . . . ." It hardly seems believable.

"I know it doesn't sound likely, but hear me out. We were on a mission together. It was night time, and we had been on the go for thirty straight hours. We were tired as Hell, and figured we might as well catch some Z's. So, we set up the tent and got ready for bed. I still remember those stupid mattresses we had to sleep on. Harder than rock. Anyway. Caraway said that he had to 'take a piss'. That should have seemed strange, as we had had next to nothing to drink that day, but I was too tired to care. So, he leaves. I'mlaying there, and I hear this weird noise, right? Like a clicking or something. So, I step out of the tent to investigate. The opening was on the south side, and that was where the noise had come from, so I went in that direction. It was a Goddamned squirrel. Anyways, I was freezing cold and really fricking tired, so I turned back to the tent. On the north side of the tent was Caraway. Only thing was, he was a good distance away. He made some motion, like he was throwing a baseball at the tent or something. Didn't even fucking figure it out."

He shakes his head. "A grenade. Do you believe that? He threw a grenade at me. Demolished the tent. Luckily I was far enough away to survive, but itruined my leg to the point where it had to be amutatedand scarred the hell out of my body." He indicates his left side.

I look down at him. Even though he has a blanket, two feet shaped bumpsare clearly visible. He must have noticed my line of sight, because he laughs breathlessly. "Yeah, I know. Amazing what technology they have these days. You should have seen my firstprosthetic - it was like a metal stick. Here, I'll show you."

I look away, slightly uncomfortable, as he unashamedly hikes up his hospital gown. Eventually he obviously gets the leg off, and whacks me in the knee with it to get my attention. I grab it reflexively. It's peach-white, obviously tailor made to match his skin, and looks exactly like a real leg, down to the slightly imperfectly shaped toenails. Amazing. Morbidly, my eyes are drawn to his leg, or rather, where the leg was supposed to be connected to his body. All that's left is a scarred,discolored stump.

He grins weakly as he readjusts the blanket. "Well, to finish the story, Caraway presumed me dead, left for camp, told the commanding officer I had been attacked and killed by the enemy, and given his good boy status, or really, who knows why, nobody bothered to check the story. At least, not while I was there. I guess some enemy troops were closer than we thought, because when I woke up I was in one of their army hospital tents, bandaged like a freaking mummy, and in a mass of pain. Even though I was obviously the enemy, those guys treated my wounds, healed me up proper, and let me go free when I was all better." He sighs. "As for Caraway, he offered a comforting shoulder to Julia, eventually made her love him, and married her. Rinoa was born a year later; Julia died when she was five. A car accident."

His fist clenches and unclenches rhythmically as he stares off into space. "I never bothered going back to her after that. I left the army, moved to Balamb, and here I am."

He folds his hands together and stares me straight in the eye. "I've spoken with Caraway. Recently. He knew how to contact me, yet never told me about you, when I had rewards set up for information on you. We all thought you were dead. It doesn't matter now; all that matters is that you're alive and well. We all have to make sacrifices, I guess. Squall, I know you have no reason to trust me, and I know that your trust isn't gained easily. You've known Caraway for years, and you're engaged to his daughter. Obviously he has the advantage, not that it matters. But I figured while you're here, I might as well tell you about your parentage."

He once again runs his hand through his hair. Honestly, I want to leave. However, I guess I should hear him out. After this, I have no obligation to see him. His story about Caraway upsets me more than it should have, which is oddly unsettling to me.

"I'll admit it, and I'd rather you hear it from me than from Caraway. Squall, I've lied to you."

I blink at him, actually surprised. I would never have thought this man could form a decent lie.

He laughs shortly. "Well, not a lie, per se, but not the whole truth, either."

"Biologically, I'm not your father."

I stand up quickly and glare down at him. I come to him, looking for answers, and he lied about that? "What? Then why the . . ."

"Wait." He holds up a hand. "I'm only asking you to hear me out, then you can do or say whatever you want."

I fold my arms across my chest, but don't sit.

"Fine, then. Once again, biologically speaking, I'm your uncle. My sister, Raine Leonhart, was your mother. It was a huge scandal. See, we were raised in Winhill, a very small town. So, naturally, news got around. When your mother was a teenager, still in school, she fell in love with a man, and they eventually had sexual intercourse." Seeing the look on my face, he clarifies. "No, this man wasn't your father. They broke up soon after, and we never saw him again. Anyway, by that time, she had been labeled a tramp by the town people because she wasn't married to that boy.

'Shortly before I went into the army, Raine came to me. She was horribly upset. She told me that she was pregnant, and didn't know what to do. The man, your 'real' father, well . . ." he nervously rubs the back of his neck. "Let's just say the sex was not consentual, and after the fact, he was never seen again. However, Raine refused to kill a child. It soon became obvious that she was pregnant, and of course the idiotic, close-minded villagers made up wild gossip about her being promiscuous. There was this particularly nasty rumor in which people theorized she had been paid for the sex."

He shook his head. "A few months went by, and she couldn't handle it there anymore. So, I moved her up to Balamb, where I had been living. My job was low paying, not to mentionmind numbingly dull, so I joined the army to help pay for her and her son - you. She gave birth while I was away, and by the time I came back, you were near a year old." He laughs. "Cuter than anything I'd ever seen, but serious even then. Money wasn't so much of an issue. The army was happy to pay disability, with a bonus to keep me placated.

'After that, she had no use for men, and I never found a lady to replace Julia. So, we sort of fell into a routine. When you were two years old, Raine contracted cancer. Even though she was a strong woman, she wasn't able to beat it. She died when you were three." He sighs again. "At that point, I adopted you, mainly for the school. It made things easier. Raine and I had different fathers; hence the name difference, and I made your last name'Leonhart-Loire', so that you would have a piece of your mother. You dropped the 'Loire' part when you were fifteen.

'We . . . well, we got along to a certain extent, but I think you took my army stories too seriously. You were ready to enlist when you were seven." He laughs at this. "So serious. It was the one thing we never could agree on. You wanting to get into the army and make a name for yourself, and me, so afraid you would get hurt and too unwilling to let yourself go. Anywho, eventually you began to resent me, started referring to me as Laguna, and ran away from home. You joined up in the army as Squall Leonhart. You actually did very well. I was quite proud of you." He shrugs. "Then of course there was your accident, and here we are today."

". . . ." It's too bad my co-workers can't hear this. I'm sure they'd be thrilled to learn I technically am a bastard.

"So, I'm not asking you for much. Just, watch your back around that man."

. . . I'm supposed to watch my back around the man who saved my life? The man who is the father of my fiancée? The man who, to my knowledge, has never done any harm to me whatsoever? How can Laguna expect this of me? If he hasn't told me the 'whole truth' concerning this, what else could he keep from me?

I scowl at him, though he's not the only reason I'm upset right now. I'm so tired of this: tired of not knowing who I am, where I came from, tired of rebuilding my whole life only to have Seifer and Laguna waltz in and turn what I've managed to make so far crumble around me. I'm sick of them making me doubt myself. No, that's not fair. I'm sick of me making myself doubt myself.

Hyne, I just wish I could remember. But then, learning what I have from Laguna, would that really be the best thing for me? I have a life now, a fiancé, a great job, and a child on the way. I'm happy . . . I think I'm happy. Do I want to ruin what I have, and possibly my life in the process?

A quiet hum sounds from the doorway, disturbing my thoughts. Seifer. It's either perfect timing, or he's been here for a while, and I simply haven't noticed him standing there, leaning against the doorway.

"Hey, old man, did you give him a chance to get a word in edgewise?"

Laguna rubs the back of his neck in an oddly embarrassed manner, a small smile on his lips. "If I had, would he have taken it?"

Seifer smirks, straightening. "Touché. How are you?"

Laguna waves airily. "Fine, fine. I'll be out in a couple of days. Don't worry about me. It's late. Go on, get out of here. Get some food or something. Besides, Kiros will be back in about a half hour, and you know that I need my beauty sleep."

Seifer snorts. "As if it works. All right, we'll get out of your hair. If you're nice, I'll bring you ayummy greasy hamburger tomorrow." His eyes are clearly teasing.

Laguna huffs. "Please, I get that here. Though if you wouldn't mind, green olives and chocolate chip cookies sound fantastic."

. . . what the Hell? Is he pregnant?

Pregnant.

Rinoa.

I sigh. I promised I would call, but it's probably too late now. To be honest, I don't feel like speaking to her, something I'm sure she'll enjoy sniping about in the morning.

"Yo. Squall. You ready?"

Seifer stares at me expectantly, but Laguna answers for me. "Phft, of course he's ready. You boys have fun now."

Something passes over Seifer's face, a certain look, but before I can identify it he has that damned smirk back in place. "Alrighty then. Let's go. Later, Laguna."

"Bye now, Seifer. Squall, remember what I said, 'cause I won't mention it again. See you later." He smiles at me.

I wave at him, and then turn and follow Seifer. For some reason, I feel bad simply leaving Laguna there alone. Whatever. I'm sure he'll find abegonia that will listen to him.

It's still raining when we leave the hospital. Little rivers have formed in the streets, something Seifer oddly seems to find amusing. He unlocks the car for me and I slide into the passenger seat, thrilled to find the car still slightly warm from the heater. He must not have been at the hospital for long.

Thankfully, he starts talking without me having to ask him as he pulls away from the curb. "Well, I got the guy to talk. Took some bribing, but we have the statement. Of course there will be an investigation, a lot of political bullcrap, but what else is new. Point is, we got a story, motive, and confession."

I glance at him. "Who was it?"

"Ah, couldn't tell you. Confidentiality. You're a lawyer, you get it." He smirks softly.

I narrow my eyes at him, but he doesn't take his eyes off of the road for a second. Seifer doesn't seem the type to keep things confidential when he knows it will stay confidential with that person. I had also figured that he would tell me, considering the victim in this case was my supposed father.

"Seifer, the papers will have it by tomorrow, so I'll figure it out anyway. Tell me."

"Heh. Pushy." He shakes his head and sighs. "Alright, but you won't be happy. The kid was hired to whack Laguna; he took the job for money."

". . . and?"

He mutters something under his breath that I don't quite catch. "Figures. Problem is, he claims that James Caraway hired him."

. . . no way. No fucking way. "Well, he's lying."

Seifer shakes his head. "I'll be honest with you. I read people quite well. I know what people are feeling. This kid isn't lying, I'll tell you that much. Hell, you're the junior D.A. Haven't you checked Caraway's file?"

"James Caraway's file is perfectly legit." I glare at him. I know James Caraway. There's no way he would hire an assassin. Why Laguna? What would be his motive? It's a ridiculous notion.

Seifer scoffs. "Hate to burst your bubble, but he's in charge of the files. He could easily have deleted them and made new ones. However, if you really check the facts, you'll find some pretty substantial holes in his records. People don't say anything because he's huge, but Caraway goes deeper than you think." His eyes suddenly narrow, and he glares at the road. "Of course, being your future daddy-in-law, you've no reason to believe me. Just like it's convenient for you to pass Laguna off as a crack pot, and stick with your fairy tale princess."

"So now you have something against Rinoa?" This man is unbelievable.

"I'm sure she's a good fuck, but come on Squall, she's as dense as a surf board. She went to Irvine's high school. Hate to tell you this, but she was a slut then, and I'm sure she's a slut now. Are you even sure that baby is yours?"

He . . . how dare he think . . . of all the . . . "pull over."

"I'm just saying. . ."

"Pull over, Seifer, or I swear to fucking God I will jump out of this car."

Sighing, he complies, and parks as I toy with the idea of breaking his perfect face. "Rinoa is my fiancé," I hiss at him, "and I love her. You either fucking accept that, or you can leave. I don't know what your problem is, and I don't care. Whatever it is, get over it. If I don't get a sincere apology tonight, you can find somewhere else to live, because you will not work in this town again."

Seifer looks at me, a hurt look on his face. "Man, what the Hell happened to you . . ."

I don't bother to hear him out. I jerk open the passenger door, and slide out of the car. "I'm walking home, and you can have your fucking jacket back." I rip off the offending garment and throw it at him before slamming the door shut.

To my surprise, he doesn't try to get me back into the car. Instead, he smoothly pulls away from the curb and speeds off. The left turn at the intersection leads to the dorms, but he goes right. Must be going to talk to his precious Irvine. As luck would have it, I've gotten out right next to a house with a fancy stone fence.

I punch it.

Hard.

Seifer Almasy can go to Hell.

……………………………………………………………..

BS: Whoo, bet you all thought I'd died o.o; No, and I'm back. Obviously. Okay, sorry about shoving everything into a Laguna ramble, but he's just too damn convenient to pass up :D

Also, concerning some things (ie: Seifer knowing about Caraway's 'file', and the fact that Rinoa went to Irvine's High School), I'll just say that Seifer did some research on his own time, but I didn't feel like writing that :P