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011. Whatever

Laguna approached me today. He asked me to talk, and I shrugged. People usually talk to me then. I still don't know why. He looked at me strangely, and ushered me into a room. I already knew what he was going to say, I knew what he wanted.

"Squall, I just want to say first off that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for never being there and for not realising sooner."

I looked at him mutely, my arms folded across my chest. What was it with Esthar's rooms? They all looked so blue, and flashy, with bright consoles. Like they had to show off their technology everywhere. At least Balmb is tasteful.

"You see, I'm actually... I'm actually your father."

I nodded, looking up at the ceiling.

"What, you knew?" He brought a palm to his face and groaned.

"We look similar. Rinoa noticed it first."

He chuckled and smiled at me. "Of course. She's more perceptive than her mother was at least." I raised an eyebrow but didn't question him. I didn't want to. "Well, it's good to finally know you... Son."

The word seemed very unnatural to him. He seemed like he had to force out the word. It sounded foreign on my ears too. I wasn't sure if it was a welcome sound or not but after talking with Rinoa, I think it was.

I nodded at him. I wanted to ask one question, but I didn't know if I should. "Who was my mother?" I asked, after relenting to my inner, new found morals.

He looked far off into the distance, just past my ear. "She was called Raine. Only from a little village. She was..." I'd thought he'd say many things, beautiful, pretty, gentle, but not this; "she was sensible." I raised an eyebrow at the plain sounding adjective. "But she wasn't boring. It was nice to have that stability. And she was calm and honest and everything you'd really want in life."

"You miss her?" I asked in the ensuing silence.

He nodded, smiling with the later half of his mouth and looking me up and down, presumably for signs of my mother. Perhaps I was the only thing he had left of her in the world.

"You know, even thought they gave you a bit of a cruel name, it suits you."

I raised an eyebrow, again, at his compliment. There was always something to pick on with my name, when I first started at Balamb. Of course there was - I was named for a destructive storm. I was destined to be the perfect SeeD from the outset. But he was right, it was me now, and Rinoa liked it and my friends knew me by it. "Thanks." I tipped my head and looked back at him equally as intently he looked at me. I almost felt sorry for his forlorn expression when he looked into my eyes, or when he took in the crafting of my face. He looked like he was remembering the entirety of a life never lived. It was almost sad in a way - eighteen years spent in ignorance and an entire life had taken place whilst he'd been counting his losses, alone.

Whatever.

Rinoa was acting strangely yesterday. She kept talking to me, crossing her arms behind her back and leaning forwards slightly, like she does whenever she wants something. She came up to my office first, clambering all the way up the stairs - I could see her, running up the glass-walled stairs against the backdrop of a recently uncovered Esthar. When she finally got to the top, all she did was bug me. Talk about our past, ask about our future, mediate on the present. She spent almost all day up there, meandering around, talking to me, playing with a stray kitten she'd found - god knows from where. She even asked to keep the cat.

"Hey Squall, can I keep this cat? Look at her, she's so cute - such a fluffy kitty!" She cooed, stroking its small head with an elegant finger. I looked at the cat briefly - the thin little white kitten with piercing blue eyes. It looked at me so serenely, washing its little black-footed paws. I sighed, and nodded. She grinned at me and talked at the cat, cooing in happiness. That kitten is now named Snowy. She stayed up there for a few more hours, and finally, when the sun was setting over the Salt Plains, and casting an orange glow on Esthar Garden, did she become slightly more serious.

"Hey, Squall..." She drew out my name, looking down at the purring, snoozing kitten on her lap. "Have you ever thought about, you know, what we're gonna do in the future. I mean... We live together." She twisted some of Snowy's fur around her fingers as she spoke.

I looked up at her from my desk and examined her face, only to look down at the desk again. I knew what she wanted. I'd known for a while. But she didn't need to know that yet.

"We should go. We need to get a home ready for... Snowy." The name felt weird on my tongue. But Rinoa liked it.

Whatever.

Today I became a fiancé. And I found out I'm allergic to cats.

Whatever.

I'm a father now. It's difficult to believe for one as apathetic as me, but I am. She was born a week ago, with her grandfathers waiting to meet her and all our friends who'd dubbed themselves Aunts and Uncles. We chose Zell and Quistus for Godparents though. I wouldn't trust Selphie and Irvine with my daughter - they'd try and dress her up in fluorescent yellow and train her on using guns within five seconds. Not that I don't trust them. Laguna, my father, couldn't stop smiling all day - not that he often did, but his face must've ached by the end of the day. And Rinoa's father cracked a smile at least once - when he saw that she has Rinoa's earnest eyes. The same eyes her grandmother had. Even though it's been a week, and the new routine of very little sleep is just kicking in, I can't believe it. I don't think anyone can be prepared for how unprepared you'll be. Nothing compares to it, not even anything from all of our travels. When I think about it like that, Laguna had it so much easier. I don't have to have any care now, we just got to talk when I'm a fully responsive, eloquent adult. I don't think I'd miss it though, not for the world. Even if I do work most of the day, running Esthar Garden, I don't think I'd miss it. She's too precious for that; every moment counts.

Whatever.

I am alone, as of today. She's gone, taken by disease. Her skin is cold and turning blue, her eyes have no light to them, and her once brown streaked-black hair has long since turned grey, and now it's cold and lifeless. Never again will blood flow through her veins, nor will her heartbeat. She is gone, her soul departed and her body broken. I was expecting it, but not like this. I am numb. I was numb when my father died and I still haven't quite recovered, but I am worse now. I feel empty and cold. I won't say anything - my children are grieving, but I feel just as awful as they do. My youngest son is running the Garden in my stead - the handsome project it turned out to be. My elder daughter is a poet, a traveller and a wife, and my elder son is an artist - travelling the world in search of inspiration and passion and love. My youngest daughter is the deputy at Balamb Garden, under the leader, Quistus and Seifer's daughter. Her home is my old home, and her husband is my best friend's son. They are all happy in their lives, and it is time that I should move on too. Join my wife - join Rinoa, in that little white dress with the strap that curved around her slender neck; dancing in the crowded hall of Balamb Garden, the marble floor clicking under her white heeled shoes...

...Whatever...

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