Theme: past, future, present, book, inheritance, adolescence
Characters: Ansem, Squall/Leon, Cloud, Aeleus/Lexeaus, Xehanort, Mickey, Tron

Hello again, folks. Well, someone sent me a link to proximity-nine's gallery in deviantArt. Anyone of you looking there, it's the picture called "when we were young". Thing was, I was supposed to be asleep. Thing is, I was no longer able to sleep, and instead typed a new chapter to this collection of drabbles in the dead hours of the morning, all thanks to someone else's genius. Again.

That wasn't half bad, considering how many stories were inspired by this artist. What's sending me half off my seat, is that this same guy told me he's going to let her know I did this once it's uploaded.

As much as I want this up, I'm going to get shot against a wall. I just know I am. (And Damion, when you finally get to America, I'll hunt you down and hit you so hard, half your future offspring will be confused.)

Iz-kun, if you are reading this, I apologize to you for any offense...and feebly hope you will appreciate my writing.

Well, this one is a little different from the first two - it's also the first to be an actual elaboration on a flashback scenario of relevance in When Keyblades Rust. When I actually get it up, anyway.

"You wanted to see me, Master Ansem."

"Squall. Yes, I did. Thank you for finding him so quickly, Aeleus."

The Captain nodded, and left the room. A moment later, the great doors swung shut with a rumbling boom.

With a casual sweep of his hand, Ansem sent the stack of reports from Ienzo and Even to the side as his eyes didn't look away from the teenager before him. "Do you know why I called for you, Squall?"

"Yes, sir," came the reply.

"Can you explain yourself?"

"No, sir."

There was a heavy sigh, and the older man pinched the bridge of his nose as he leaned back into his chair. "Lad, I have known you for ten years, and you have had this...unpredictable fiery temper of yours for nine of them. But this cannot go on - the results of this research mean a lot to the team, not just Xehanort. Do you understand?"

"I'm sorry, Ansem."

"Come over here."

Hesitant, the boy approached his mentor, but continued to look away. The man looked up at him, then rose to his feet.

"This...isn't just about Xehanort or his unorthodox methods, is it?"

There was no immediate reply, and the youth continued to look away.

"Squall, I have always looked upon you as though you were my own son; you know that."

"...yes, sir."

"Do you remember, when you first came here? You had no memory, and no one knew who you were, or which house you came from. As though you had just appeared out of nowhere. For that first year I took you in, my advisors told me to be cautious - they worried about your true origins, and what that could mean for this kingdom. But you proved them wrong, my boy. You showed them that their fears were unfounded, and became the fine young man that stands before me now.

"Do you know the point I'm trying to make, Squall?"

The teenager did not answer, his posture rigid even as Ansem placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Xehanort came to us in a similar way. I know, he is...hard...to understand, but I would like for you to give him a chance. Let him show to you what he can be."

The boy finally looked at Ansem, and it was written all over the stubborn young face that the boy had absolutely no intention of doing anything pleasant toward Xehanort. But he held his peace, and finally, reluctantly, nodded, giving his silent promise to, at the very least, try.

At last, Ansem smiled. Turning, he opened a drawer. From it, he produced a book - bound in blue-dyed leather. Squall stared in open curiosity at the book that was laid before him. Reaching forward, he took it in his hands, and turned the cover. There, emblazoned into the first page, were two words in bold.

"... Squall Leonhart," he read carefully. And then he looked up. "Did this belong to the man you named me after?"

"I'm afraid that secret will remain untold for now, but let me say this," as he spoke, the man reached forward and once again brought the youth's attention to the book. "When I found you wrapped in that jacket ten years ago, you were holding this. I kept it for you while you grew up, and now that you're old enough to understand what may be inside, I am returning it to you."

"You never read it?"

"Never. It was not my place to."

Squall raised an eyebrow at that. "The curiosity must have been killing you."

"Oh, I had my thoughts about the matter, but still, those thoughts were best forgotten."

There was a knock on one of the doors, and then Aeleus' voice rumbled through.

"Master Ansem. King Mickey is here to see you."

"Send him in, Aeleus," Ansem called back. Squall had turned at the knock, and now he looked back.

"... You want me to stay?"

"I suppose you could skip this one session. Go on - go read your book."

Squall grinned - at last breaking the headstrong facade - and headed back to the doors just as Captain Aeleus opened them. King Mickey stepped through, and the two met halfway. Squall, having known the smaller king for half as long as he knew Ansem, bowed formally.

"Your Majesty."

"Hello, Squall," the king replied, smiling as he always did. Looking from the youth to the book he was holding, his eyes lit up momentarily in recognition, and then he nodded.
"Welp, guess I'll see you later."

Squall nodded, bowing again, this time before Ansem. And then he had hurried through the doors, which fell shut a second time.

"Does he know about that book, Ansem?" Mickey finally asked curiously, as the last of the hurried footsteps faded.

"...not all of it, I'm afraid," Ansem answered, his expression solemn. "I just hope that I've not committed an error in my decision."

"Welp, I'm not one to judge. Still, do you really think this is a good idea? Even if he has that, he may not know what it truly means."

"Which is precisely why I must continue my work with Tron. But that, I'm afraid, will have to be left for another...more private time. Now then, what can I do for you, old friend?"

Mickey turned back to the door, heard Aeleus' heavy footsteps fade as well, and then resumed his task at hand.

"Wise Ansem, I'm here to seek your advice..."

The first place Squall could think of for privacy, was the cliffs just outside of the town square. It was relatively quiet there, and only he and another knew of this place; apart from three weird little pixies that showed up now and then, anyway. It was, as they had spoken of it, a good place to find and claim their treasure.

Now, it was a good place for him to read his.

Setting the book down in his lap, he turned the cover, again reading the name that was written there in bold. He stared down at that name for a while, not entirely sure if he should carry on. Finally, taking a deep breath, he turned the page.

To you who now read this, the paragraph started, I perhaps have some explaining to do.

Where I come from, and the duty that I must carry out, requires that I sacrifice what is precious to me: memory. I cannot forsake this duty, but neither can I forsake the memory of those who are my friends, my family - the ones I that I fight for in the first place. It has been suggested that I write down all that I remember now, that I may someday read this once more, and recall the forgotten memories. It may work, and it may not. Only time will tell. I do not know the future, if I will truly be able to read this again, or if I will come to forget it ever existed. But you who now read this, do so understanding that this is a book of memories. Of my memories.

My name is Squall Leonhart, and I am acting Commander of the mercenary academy known as Balamb Garden. I have friends here, who have been as close to me as family for nineteen years. Their names are as follows...

Then a pair of firm hands clapped him on the shoulders and pushed downward as a shadow loomed over him.

"So here's where you've been hiding!"

Startled, Squall slapped the book to his chest, letting out a nervous exclamation that sounded like a mix between a yelp and a vulgarity. Above him, his friend Cloud - whom he had conveniently forgotten was the only other who knew of this place - hovered and stared down at the blue leather.

"What's that you got there?"

"Nothing!" Squall promptly blurted out, slapping the book shut just a second before Cloud decided to make a grab at it.

"Well, if it's nothing, why can't I see it?"

"It's complicated!" Squall protested, hugging the book to his chest once more as Cloud started to wrestle him for it. With Squall preoccupied with defending his prize, and Cloud having always been a strong one, it was not long before the younger had the older pinned, though only by the shoulders as the older managed to keep up his death grip.

"Surrender?" he offered.

"Never," came the instant reply.

"Cool. I know where you're ticklish."

Squall promptly blanched as Cloud leaned in closer, leering.

"Still gonna keep that away from me?"

Squall's answer was to squeeze it tighter, his expression stubborn.

The two locked their gazes for a moment, and then Cloud stopped smirking as he easily got off Squall and let him up.

"I was just kidding - it's okay if you can't show it to me."

Sitting up, one hand still holding the book, Squall gave Cloud a grateful smile. The blond shrugged, a facade of nonchalance.

And the two sat there for a moment longer, just catching their breath, and enjoying the cool air from the breezes that came and went every so often.

"... Cloud," Squall started, finally releasing his grip, "about this book..."

"I said, it's okay."

"I'll let you read it. Someday." and Squall looked down at the book he now held loosely in his hands once more. "I haven't really read it yet either, but...somehow, it's important to me. So...someday, okay?"

"If you're sure," was the reply. Cloud got to his feet, turned, and held out a hand to Squall.

Squall took the hand and got to his feet as well. As he followed Cloud back to town, he kept glancing down at the book, and pondering even those few sentences he had read.

...you who now read this, do so understanding that this is a book of memories. Of my memories.

My name is Squall Leonhart...

It was late into the evening as Ansem remained standing before Tron. His meeting with King Mickey had not been long, but it was meaningful, as was often their meetings like that.

Now, he continued his own task at hand, his fingers dancing over the keys of the computer.

At last, he straightened again, solemn and content. "The rest is up to you now, Tron."

"I understand, User Ansem," Tron replied through the speaker, in "his" usual clipped voice. "I will keep this safe with me, for whenever you're ready to pick it up. You will have the key, of course."

"Of course." and Ansem retrieved the small red gummi key that appeared from Tron's disc drive. It was small, fitting easily between finger and thumb, and it was in the shape of a pair of red wings. This, he slotted into the envelope, feeling its warmth even through the material. With that finished, he bid Tron goodnight and returned to his study.

And it was there, that he started to write his letter. To Squall, which he hoped to deliver by his retirement from his position, in the long, long time to come...

"...it will have been many years since I first returned you the book," he wrote, "and I know you must wonder about the missing pages, and have more questions about what information is there. Take this key that I leave to you, and give it to Tron. The rest of the information you seek - and perhaps the answers as well - will be there. All of it. Perhaps, then, you will come to understand who you are, where you came from, what happened to you, and how you came to be here.

"This is my final gift to you, my son, with gratitude - you have chosen to give this kingdom your future.

"The least I can do, is give you back your past."

Shadow Cat17: Glad you liked it - it was fun to write for me as well. I always liked humor.

Niana Kuonji: Hi, again! It's been a while, hasn't it? Don't worry about the weapons bit - I originally wrote it for that until I realized how many "hints" I could squeeze in at one time. Zack was interesting, for how little "conversation" he participated in - if any of the kids was going to pick up on the innuendos, I just knew it'd be him.