Laguna Loire watched the city lights from the window of his darkened office. He was supposed to be reviewing Odine's latest request for a larger budget, but his mind was on Raine.
For the last sixteen years, he'd avoided thinking about her and the life they could have had together in Winhill. In that time, he'd cut that part of his heart out of his chest and kept it buried beneath a smile and a false loyalty to a country that loved him so much, they wouldn't let him leave.
That wasn't exactly true. He'd always technically been free to leave. By some miracle, he'd gotten into Esthar, but getting out proved even harder. And once he'd learned there was nothing left to go home to, he stopped caring if he ever left or not. The people of Winhill would not welcome him back, and there was nothing for him in Winhill without Raine and Ellone.
That boy earlier. He must have been about sixteen, maybe seventeen. He looked so much like Raine, right down to the cool, indifferent stare.
But it couldn't be. It wasn't possible.
Laguna pressed a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes as a swell of raw, buried grief squeezed his heart. He had no right to hope that Raine was not lost to him entirely. That boy, whoever he was, and wherever he'd come from, could not be his son. He would not let himself believe it could be true.
He did not turn from the window when the door of his office opened. He knew it was Kiros by the soft, unintrusive footfalls on the plush and expensive carpet. Ward never cared about making noise, though he could be surprisingly light on his feet for such a big guy. Kiros, on the other hand, was sensitive and intuitive enough to tread lightly in the face of Laguna's abrupt switch in mood following the meet and greet with the new recruits.
"Ward and I have reviewed the test results," Kiros said. He sat down at Laguna's desk and looked at the clipboard in his hand. "The group from the orphanage could prove to be very interesting."
Laguna listened as Kiros went over their written exam scores. Three of the orphans had tested above 90 percent, one scored in the high 80's, and one failed spectacularly.
"The young man that failed may be functionally illiterate," Kiros said. "I'm sending him for additional testing tomorrow to find out if there's not another reason for his poor score. That aside, he has a lot of potential and possesses in-born magic. He's also an absolute tank."
Laguna nodded absently and waited for Kiros to continue.
"Besides him, there are two others with natural magical abilities, including Blue magic, which is incredibly rare."
Laguna was momentarily shaken from his thoughts. He turned around and looked at Kiros, surprised that an orphanage in the middle of nowhere was harboring that kind of talent. He didn't know what blue magic was, exactly, but he'd heard things.
"That is pretty interesting," Laguna agreed. "What else?"
"All them are underweight and show signs of malnutrition," Kiros continued. "My understanding is that they've been fending for themselves for several years now. Hunting and bartering to survive."
"Make sure they get enough to eat, then," Laguna said absently. "They'll need the extra calories to get through training."
"Already done," Kiros said.
"Good," Laguna said. "Keep me posted on their progress. I'm curious to find out what they can do."
Kiros eyed him over the desk, not fooled at all by Laguna's claim of curiosity. He didn't make a habit of keeping track of specific recruits and never showed much interest before.
"The young man's name is Squall Leonhart," Kiros said. "In case you were wondering."
Laguna was not wondering. He couldn't let himself wonder, but now he felt sick. And after all these years, it still surprised him how well his friends could read him.
"Which one was he again?" Laguna asked, to deflect. "I don't recall."
Better to pretend he didn't know what Kiros was talking about. Better to put on a brave face and play the clueless, cheerful idiot.
"Perhaps it's best to face it directly, Laguna," Kiros said. "Rather than ignore it."
"I don't know what you mean."
"That orphanage was run by Cid and Edea Kramer."
Laguna's heart sank. He knew those names. A thousand and a half times over the years, he'd thought of reaching out to them. Their names were the last clue he'd gotten as to Ellone's whereabouts, but he had always been far too afraid to contact them again after they turned him away empty handed during his search for her.
He could not handle another letdown. He wouldn't survive another heartbreak. That boy could not be Raine's child, and it made no sense to get his hopes up over something that wasn't real.
Best not to know.
"Should I know who they are?" Laguna asked, trying to sound as clueless as possible. "Have I met them before?"
Kiros sighed and drifted toward the window. He cut a striking figure. Just a long, narrow shadow against the city lights.
"You have and you know it," Kiros said.
Laguna sighed. He never could get away with lying to Kiros.
"He looks a great deal like her," Kiros said. "I noticed the resemblance the moment I met him but I didn't think much of it until I got his name."
Laguna bit down on the inside of his cheek. It was that, or start crying.
"It wasn't planned," Kiros said. "Going to the Kramer house. I realized we were nearby and thought perhaps it was worth stopping by. On the off-chance that Ellone ended up there after all."
The young man had name-dropped her. His sister, Ellone. Laguna's heart hurt at the missed opportunity. Had the Kramer's had known of her whereabouts all along and lied? Had they tried to reach out to him, only to be blocked by Esthar's cloaking technology?
At least he knew she wasn't dead. She'd been kept safe all these years. That was a blessing. Someone was looking out for her.
"You know, I think I'll have something stronger than juice tonight," he said. "I think I might be coming down with something."
"Laguna."
"Maybe a hot toddy before bed."
"Don't avoid the subject."
Laguna stood up and went to the cabinet behind his desk, where he kept an assortment of alcohol for entertaining important people. He poured a measure of cherry brandy into a lowball glass and sipped the fruity, slightly sweet beverage.
"We can find out for sure, if you wish," Kiros said. "I took the liberty of retaining the blood samples from the boy's physical exam."
"That's unethical."
"Perhaps. But it's going to eat at you until you know the truth," Kiros said. "I know you."
Laguna paused, the rim of the glass resting against his bottom lip. Did he want to know? What if he got his hopes up, only to have them dashed by news that the boy was merely a war-orphaned distant cousin who didn't even know her name? Or wasn't related at all and it was just a big coincidence?
He sank into the office chair, set the glass aside and dropped his head to the desk blotter.
"I can't handle this."
"Be that as it may, you will regret not knowing the truth," Kiros says. "Running never did you any favors, Laguna."
Laguna's list of regrets stretched out for miles and miles into the past, a hundred and a half things he couldn't bear to think about. Would one more make a difference?
"The boy came to fight for Esthar," Kiros said. "He could very well die in battle some time in the near future. If he does, you will lose your only opportunity to know him."
Laguna swallowed down the rest of the brandy and set the glass on his desk. He didn't like the warm bubble of hope building up in his heart. Too many times, he'd felt this way, only to have the bubble burst in a flood of bitter disappointment.
"Maybe..." he said slowly. "Maybe it's for the best that I don't."
It was well after dawn, and warm sunlight spilled in the kitchen window, allowing Nida to examine the healing trench in Selphie's shoulder and calf. The wounds would leave a scars, but she was on the mend. She might even be good as new in another day or two.
He'd found some first-aid supplies in the bathroom, which would help speed her recovery and prevent infection. Because they were on the run, infection was something to worry about. It would suck to escape the death camps, only for her to die of sepsis in a snowdrift.
On the counter, the coffee pot gurgled and hissed, and Nida's mouth watered in anticipation of fresh, decent coffee. Thank all the Gods that the electricity was on and that the cabin's owners left behind a handful of useful stuff. Including an unopened bag of some fancy coffee and a canister of powdered vanilla flavored creamer.
Nida considered good coffee a blessing, but not as big a blessing as the opportunity to escape. Joining up had been the worst decision he'd ever made.
He'd told Xu he'd chosen the side that got regular meals, but sometimes, grunts like him didn't eat either. Sometimes, they were made to sleep outside if the officers felt like they weren't being tough enough, or working hard enough. Sometimes they did it just to be dicks.
Then there were the beatings, and the stupid and sometimes dangerous hazing. Nida himself had been knocked around more than a few times for minor infractions like forgetting to tuck in the corners of his sheets or having a scuff on his boot.
When he first joined up, he and the other newbies had been made to throw flaming toilet paper rolls at each other in a twisted version of dodge ball for the amusement of the officers. He found out quick that the uniforms were not flame retardant, and he had a bunch of burn scars on his back to prove it.
Those were not the worst things he'd been subjected to, and they definitely weren't the worst he'd witnessed.
Selphie and Xu staged their escape at just the right time. If not for them, Nida wasn't sure what he would have done. All he knew was that he was on the edge of... something. And that something wasn't good. The longer he was stationed at the labor camp, the more it felt like something was going to break. Him, or that place, or the whole world. All of it, all at once.
This was better. He felt better now. Less like he was going to flip out and start stabbing and more like he'd finally picked the right path, even if it would probably get him killed. If he did, at least he would die doing the right thing.
"Hey Nida?" Selphie said. "What do they do with the guys?"
"What guys?" Nida asked.
"Well, there was a camp for the women," she said. "Is there one for men?"
"Probably," he said. "Why do you ask?"
"They took two of my brothers," she said. "They're both younger than me. I want to try and find them."
"They probably put them in the trainee program," Nida said. "I heard that's what they do with the young ones."
"What about the older ones?"
"Depends. They usually kill the ones that fight back," Nida said. "The ones that don't are forced to join up."
"Is that what happened to you?"
Nida nodded. He didn't want to talk about it. If he did, he might crack. He needed to change the subject, now, before he started thinking about the past. He didn't want to flip out in front of them. Xu might follow through on her threat to kill him and he wasn't ready to die.
"Want some coffee?" he asked Selphie.
"I'll have some," Xu said from the doorway.
In daylight, Nida noticed fading bruises on her face and neck. Her complexion was sickly, almost gray, and there were dark circles around her eyes.
"You don't look so great," Nida said. He pulled out a chair. "Come sit."
"I'm fine."
"Seriously, Xu," Selphie said. "You do look bad."
Nida moved away from Selphie's side and offered Xu his hand. She brushed him away and started throwing open cabinets in search of coffee mugs.
He shot a glance at Selphie, who shrugged and poked at the bandage on her calf.
"After this, we should get moving," Xu said. She opened the dishwasher. "There they are."
She set three mugs on the counter and poured coffee into one of them.
"Oh, coffee," she murmured. "How I have missed you."
She leaned against the counter and glowered at Nida wordlessly as she sipped from the mug.
Nida struggled not to squirm under her stare. He understood why she didn't trust him, but he hadn't given her a reason to hate him. He didn't think, anyway.
He had to be normal. Non-threatening.
He braved her wrath and moved into her space to pour coffee for himself and Selphie.
"You want cream and sugar in yours?" he asked Selphie.
"Both. Extra sugar."
"Did you hear what I said?" Xu asked. "We need to get moving."
"Do we have a plan?" Nida asked.
"We don't have anything," Xu said. "I don't care what you do, but you're not coming with us."
"Xu!" Selphie cried. "We talked about this already."
"We did, but I didn't agree to anything," she said. "And I think we're better off on our own."
Nida didn't know what to say. Xu was probably right, but he hated the idea of braving it alone. For him, it could go one of two ways. Either they were actively looking for him, because deserters were punished even more harshly than dissenters.
Or, they hadn't even noticed him gone.
Of the two, that was the most likely scenario. He was not a standout. Not memorable. Average in every way. His CO couldn't even remember his name. And for a long, long time, that seemed like the worst possible thing that could happen, but now it felt like another blessing. Or maybe a curse.
He would not be missed.
"Do you have a plan?" Nida asked.
"To get the hell off this continent," Xu said.
"That's your plan?" Selphie asked. "I mean, I'm all for it, but how are we gonna do that? And anyway, I wanna go to Trabia and find my parents, but unless I swim, it's probably not gonna happen."
Nida had an idea. One that would keep them from running off and leaving him to fend for himself.
"My uncle owns a small shipping company," Nida said. "They operate out of FH. Maybe they have something heading wherever you need to go."
"That sounds like bullshit," Xu said.
It wasn't quite bullshit. Nida had only met his uncle once. Ten years ago. And with the war on, he wasn't sure if the business was still in operation. His ships could have been commandeered by the G-Army for all he knew, but they were more likely to make it to FH alive if they went as a group. And in FH, maybe Nida could find work and a new life.
"What other options do you have?" Nida asked.
There was a long, loaded look between Selphie and Xu. They seemed to be having an entire conversation entirely through facial expressions. It was the weirdest thing Nida had ever seen, but he assumed it was one of those girl things that he would never understand.
"Fine," Xu said. "We'll go to FH. After that, we part ways. Understood?"
That was good enough for Nida. It might even be nice to not be invisible for a while.
"What the hell are we doing here, Elle?" Seifer demanded and looked around the kitchen of the house she'd dragged him into. "You make a habit of walking into other people's homes?"
"It's mine."
That wasn't the answer Seifer expected but he didn't question it. Her face had gone ashen as she stared at a wall riddled with bullet holes.
Seifer got a flash of a small dark space, hands pressed over his ears. Gunfire came from somewhere far, far away.
She pressed her lips together and dragged her hands through her hair, turning away from the wall. Seifer counted the holes but stopped when he got to twenty. It made him uneasy to look at them. There was a bad vibe in this room, and he didn't think it was just the bullet riddled wall.
"Let's go upstairs," she said. "I think we both need some rest."
Seifer obeyed, but not because he was an obedient Knight, but because he was exhausted, both mentally and physically. He wanted to demand an explanation but it would have to wait until he wasn't too tired to comprehend it.
She led him into what looked like a child's bedroom. A toy box overflowed with fading, dusty dolls and stuffed animals and a selection of little girl's clothing hung from small hangers in the closet. Child-sized shoes were lined up neatly beneath them. A framed pair of tiny footprints hung on the wall with Ellone's name written beneath them in a looping script. In one corner was a tiny piano.
"This was your room?" he asked as he looked around.
"In another life."
Seifer tugged away the sheet covering a bed and sat down. Ellone stood motionless by the dresser, staring at a pair of black and white photos in tarnished silver frames. One was of a young couple, the other a tiny Ellone with a man who looked like the actor from an old movie he used to love.
She turned away from the photos and sat down beside him, her gaze a million miles away. Seifer heard the gunshots again but understood now that they were from her memories, not somewhere close by.
All he wanted to do was lay down and close his eyes for a while, but he was too keyed up. Her tension was bleeding into him, blending with his own confusion over everything that had happened. He felt like he wanted to fight or scream or burn something and had no outlet for it.
"I've never done that before," Ellone said. She worried the fabric of her shawl between her fingers and let out a shuddery breath. "I didn't know I could."
"Damn good thing you figured it out," Seifer said, stifling a yawn. "But what the hell do we do now?"
"I don't know," she said. She looked up at him with tired eyes. "You should have gone to Esthar with the others. You'd be safe there."
"You think it's that easy, huh?" Seifer asked. "Like I can just pretend we're not bound to each other and go on my merry fucking way."
"Seifer-"
"Shut up," Seifer said. "I don't have a choice."
His feelings were still so mixed on the subject. He waited seven years for her to come back, yet loathed the bond they shared for the fact that he couldn't escape it. Maybe it wasn't her fault. Maybe she didn't choose him. It didn't change the fact that he was tied to her whether he liked it or not.
"Get some sleep," he said. "We'll figure out where to go from here later."
He leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes. A moment later, he felt the mattress shift as she settled down beside him.
They had no money. No weapons. Nothing but the clothes on their backs. He wasn't even sure where the hell Winhill was, only that it was somewhere in Galbadia, which was the absolute last place they needed to be. They would have to be careful. If things were as bad as the news broadcasts said, they were taking a risk just being here.
There was a buzzing sound in his head that grew steadily louder the more he tried to block it out. When he tried to sit up, he couldn't. His whole body felt both leaden and weightless at the same time, and he couldn't hold onto a thought longer than a few seconds at a time.
He managed to murmur Ellone's name before he was sucked under, darkness crashing into him with so much force it was like a fist to the face, knocking him unconscious.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in the same room, but the lights were on and he was sitting on the wood floor with a doll in his hand, drawing a plastic brush through it's tangled hair. Startled, Seifer attempted to drop it but the hands didn't belong to him. They were the hands of a young child, hands that would be dwarfed by his own.
The fuck?
Outside the window men started shouting. The front door slammed and heavy footsteps trudged rapidly up the stairs. The door burst open and a man in his late twenties with dark hair and dark eyes grabbed hold of Seifer and lifted him into his arms.
"You need to hide, Ellone," the man said. "Remember how we practiced? Just like that, okay? Don't make a sound and come out until we tell you to, okay?"
Ellone. This was Ellone's memory. Seifer remembered sharing dreams with her sometimes when he was little, but they'd been nothing like this. At least, not that he could recall.
The voices were louder, and the man, Ellone's father Seifer assumed, crouched down and set little Ellone on her feet in the hallway. He removed a painted grate from the wall and pushed Ellone inside. He could see very little but there was something soft balled up in the corner. Ellone crawled toward it and settled it around her body.
"Not a sound Ellone. No matter what happens, you have to stay quiet."
Seifer's heart was in his throat as the grate was closed and the man's footsteps moved away down the hall and down the stairs. A woman's voice said something unintelligible and then there was a loud bang, several men's voices and a blast of gunfire.
Ellone covered her head with the blanket and curled up into a ball at the sound of a sharp scream and things crashing to the floor. Another gunshot rang out, followed by volleys of gunfire. All the while, she tried her best not to scream.
Seifer had never felt that kind of terror in his life. Most of it was little Ellone's, but some of it was his own. The blasts seemed to go on forever. In reality, it lasted a minute at most.
The silence that followed felt like an eternity.
When he opened his eyes, he was in his own body again, in the bed beside Ellone, gasping for breath. He sat up and looked at her, but she didn't look at him. She stared at the ceiling with empty eyes.
"Elle?"
She didn't answer him or explain.
But, she didn't need to. She didn't need to explain a thing.
The first day of basic training was a grueling experience. Up before dawn, breakfast, 100 push-ups, a ten mile run in combat boots, drill sergeants screaming in his face, more push-ups, a light lunch, rope climbing, push-ups, screaming, more running, push-ups, classroom training, and finally dinner and a shower.
Squall had loved every second of it. Even being called a maggot repeatedly. That part had made him laugh, which didn't go over well with the drill sergeant, earning him an extra 15 trips up and down the rope.
But what did he care? He was getting paid and fed and it was better than shoveling chocobo shit or unloading crates of dead fish at the docks. By comparison, it was easy. All he had to do was follow orders.
In the barracks, Squall climbed up onto the wide windowsill between his bed and Zell's and stared out at the blazing sunset and the strange skyline of this strange city.
Back in Centra, it had been hard to hope for anything. There hadn't been any point. The harder he worked, the further behind it seemed they got. It was like being permanently stuck in quicksand, slowly going under a centimeter at a time.
He'd spent a lot of time daydreaming about not having to worry about busted pipes and running out of ammo for Cid's old hunting rifle. He'd daydreamed about being able to buy meat from the grocery instead of having to eat the cast-offs Seifer brought home from the butcher, or the rabbits Fujin caught in her traps. About birthday cake, and what fresh bread with real butter might taste like.
They were such small things to most people, but they were luxuries to Squall.
He knew better than to hope for anything, but he felt it bubbling up inside him as he considered the possibility that this was his way out. If he lived through the war, that was. He wasn't such a dreamer that he didn't understand that death was a likely outcome, and he didn't picture himself as a war hero or a leader. He would fight, maybe die, just one of many.
But if he survived it, maybe there was something here for him in Esthar. A better life, maybe. A quiet life where the only laundry he did was his own.
Sort of pathetic that his dreams were so mundane, but he'd never had time to think about the future before. He'd always been too busy trying to survive the week to have time to focus on goals.
There was a longing in him for something else, too, but he didn't have a name for what it was. All he knew was that it had something to do with his perpetual loneliness. Weird, how he could still be lonely when he grew up with zero privacy and other people around all the time.
It was a contradiction he didn't have the brain power to sort out after such a long day.
"HEY."
Squall turned his head away from the Esthar skyline and lifted his chin at Fujin, who stood a few feet away looking unusually shy.
"What's up?" he asked.
"THANKS."
Squall didn't know what she was talking about. He couldn't recall doing anything worth being thanked for.
"BULLIES."
Oh.
"Yeah, no problem," Squall said. "Family sticks together, right?"
Fujin perched herself on the edge of his bed and chewed her bottom lip. She looked at him for a long moment and then looked away.
"SEIFER."
"He'll be fine," Squall said. "He can take care of himself."
"WRONG."
Squall didn't know what she meant by that. That he was wrong? Or that it was wrong to leave Seifer behind. She didn't elaborate, though, and got up, holding something out for him to take.
"LEARN."
She placed a stack of playing cards in his hand and he looked at them, curious. He liked card games like Galbadian Hold'em and whatever the name for the one Seifer called Dumb-ass actually was. He was good at card games. Good enough that Seifer gave up trying to play him years ago. Seifer didn't like to lose.
Squall turned a card over and saw an image of some kind of monster, a number in each corner. The others were similar but with different monsters, different numbers. Intrigued, he shuffled through them and then looked up at Fujin.
"What are these?"
"TRIPLE. TRIAD," she said. "FUN."
"Yeah, okay," Squall said. "You know the rules?"
She nodded.
"Write them down," he said. "And thanks."
"AFFIRMATIVE."
She returned to her own bed, on the other side of Zell's, and Squall returned his attention to the night beyond the window. He didn't pay much attention when Quistis returned from her shower and dropped heavily onto the bed on the other side of his. He paid no attention when a couple boys he didn't know got into a brawl across the room, and he ignored the voice calling his name.
Someone grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him off the windowsill. He hit the ground with at thud and stared up at the drill sergeant he'd laughed at earlier.
"What?" he asked.
"What?" the man barked. "Is that how you address your superior officer, you inbred, backwoods delinquent?"
Squall struggled to keep from reacting. Backwoods delinquent was funny, but inbred pissed him off.
"Sir."
"On your feet, dumbshit," the officer said. "Seagill wants to see you. Now."
Squall pushed to his feet and ignored the twinge in his back and side. He stuffed his feet into his boots and followed the officer out of the room. He dared not ask the question that was foremost in his mind. Squall was not to speak unless spoken to, and the officer wouldn't answer anyway.
Seagill was outside in the training yard waiting for him. Only then did Squall wonder why the VP asked to see him privately.
"Leonhart," Seagill said cordially. "How was your first day?"
"Good."
Seagill smiled, a bit of disbelief in his expression.
"Good? Perhaps we went too easy on you."
"Maybe," Squall said and shrugged. "What did you want to see me about, sir?"
"Straight to the point," Seagill said. "You scored a 94 on your exam which qualifies you for our leadership training program."
Squall only struggled with the section on electronics, which was something he never had an opportunity or interest in learning about. The rest had been a breeze, though he hadn't finished as quickly as Quistis. It hadn't even taken her an hour.
"Are you interested?" Seagill asked.
"Not really a leader, sir."
"What are you? A follower?"
Squall shrugged. He didn't consider himself a follower, either. He did what was needed, and he'd never really needed to be told what to do.
"I do my own thing."
Seagill looked him over, as if considering him.
"You prefer to work alone."
"Most of the time," Squall said. "It's easier that way."
"Tell me about your responsibilities at home. Who decided who did what?" Seagill asked. "I understand your caregiver didn't contribute much to the household."
Squall snorted, thinking of Cid's blank look and the dozen or so empty whiskey bottles littering the bedroom floor. The stupid fucking crossword puzzles that wound up half-finished and were then used to light the wood stove.
He hadn't always been that way. Squall distinctly remembered Cid teaching the boys to use a wooden gunblade out in the yard when they were younger. He'd taught Squall, Seifer, and Fujin to use his old hunting rifle. He played dodge ball with the others while Squall climbed the tallest tree because he thought dodge ball was stupid.
Cid could have been a great father, if only his sorceress hadn't gone away.
"Nobody really decided anything," Squall said. "We divided up our responsibilities. Whatever needed to get done got done one way or another."
"What were yours?"
"I hunted a few times a week, picked up odd jobs, worked part-time after school, did the laundry, chopped wood."
"That's a lot for a kid your age."
"Either that or starve."
Squall didn't like the look on Seagill's face. He didn't want anyone's pity, especially not from this guy. It put him on edge to be looked at like he was a kicked puppy.
Seagill was quiet for a moment and turned his gaze to the dark, distant horizon beyond the gate.
"Does the name Raine mean anything to you?" Seagill asked.
Squall stood up straighter, now on defense. He hadn't thought much about Ellone's directive to find Loire, nor had he thought about the bumbling president beyond their short encounter. It wasn't something he wanted to think about. It was stupid to hope or believe it might actually be true.
"That was my mother's name."
"What about Ellone?"
"My sister," Squall said. It felt invasive for a stranger to be asking. What did Seagill know of his family? "What's it to you?"
"I've met both," Seagill said. "A long time ago. Before you were born."
Squall sat down on a concrete pedestal, wary. A part of him wanted to ask a thousand questions about his mother. He knew so little about her. In his mind she wasn't even a real person, just the daydream of a lonely little boy. Something he made up to comfort himself. The other part wanted to walk away and deny everything. Knowing anything beyond what he already knew would change nothing.
"Ellone gave me a message to pass on to President Loire," Squall said. "You can give it to him if you want."
"So, she is alive."
Squall nodded.
"And what's the message?"
"She said to tell him the thing he tried to prevent happened anyway," Squall said. "And that she's sorry if it all goes wrong."
Seagill blinked at him and took a step back. For a second, the man looked scared to death. Squall didn't understand why, but he also didn't understand the message. Not entirely, anyhow.
It was obvious Seagill did, though. His whole demeanor changed, and he stood up straighter, eyeing Squall critically.
"Come with me," Seagill said, all business. "You need to tell him directly."
Squall had no interest in speaking to him directly. If he really was Squall's father, he didn't think he wanted to know him. Sure, he was curious, but he was also bitter over the fact that the man had lived what must have been a very comfortable life while Squall broke his back just to be able to eat and take a hot bath.
Still, he followed Seagill back inside, where they boarded some sort of platform that propelled them through a tube at breakneck speed. The lights and landscape beyond passed by in a colorful blur. Squall's stomach twisted at the abrupt motion and he struggled not to throw up.
The ride was short, but still long enough that Squall lurched off the platform like he was drunk and had to hang onto the wall for a second to get his bearings. Seagill waited patiently, leaned casually against the wall beside him.
"I'll inform your sergeant that you may miss curfew," Seagill said when they continued on.
Squall hadn't given a thought to that. He assumed there was some punishment for it if it was necessary to report it. That might be a problem, since sometimes Squall struggled to sleep and was used to being productive when he couldn't.
The hallway Squall found himself in was opulent, in a strange retro-futuristic sort of way and he wondered where the hell they were. It didn't look like offices or classrooms so he assumed he wasn't inside the training compound anymore.
Seagill banged on a door and then pressed a button. The door opened into a large round room with a desk in the middle and a big picture window. The view beyond that window was incredible, and like nothing Squall had ever seen in his life. It was like looking out on an alien world, beyond anything he could have imagined when he pictured Esthar in his head.
Loire stood beside the window, staring out at the city, as though he was as enraptured by it as Squall was. He turned around when Seagill cleared his throat and startled when he spied Squall at Seagill's side. Loire looked angry for a second and then turned an accusing gaze back to Seagill.
"I thought we already discussed this," Loire said to Seagill.
"We discussed nothing. You avoided it," Seagill said. "And he has a message from Ellone. It is important, Laguna."
Loire came around the desk and perched himself on the edge of it, taking care to avoid making eye contact with Squall.
"Is she okay?" he asked in a small voice.
"As far as I know, sir," Squall said tightly.
This man, if he was Squall's father, didn't seem to want to know him any more than Squall wanted to know him. That was fine with Squall. He'd lived seventeen years without a father. He could survive without ever knowing him.
"When did you last see her?"
"Two days ago."
"Tell him," Seagill said. "Tell him what you told me."
Squall repeated his message and watched Loire go pale. Loire bowed his head and muttered what sounded like an apology, then looked up at Squall for the first time since he'd set foot in this room. The man seemed incapable of tearing his eyes away from him, leaving Squall feeling both angry and small.
"She's in Centra?" Laguna asked.
Squall nodded.
"Does she have a Knight?"
Squall nodded again.
"Kiros."
"On it," Seagill said.
"I wanna go myself," Loire said.
"You know why you can't."
"She's my daughter."
Squall snorted. His daughter. As if he had any part in raising or protecting her from whatever threat there was against her.
"Be that as it may," Seagill said. "It's not going to happen. I'll handle it."
Loire nodded and returned his attention to Squall. He struggled not to squirm under the man's mournful stare and it was starting to irritate him.
"What else did she tell you?" Loire asked.
"She said you were important to her. And that you're my father."
Squall waited in silence while Loire did everything in his power to avoid looking at him.
"How old are you?" Loire asked. "When's your birthday?"
"Seventeen," Squall said. "August twenty-third."
Loire's eyes glazed over and he sat motionless for a minute. Squall waited, not sure what reaction he was going to get.
"It adds up," Seagill said.
"What adds up?" Squall demanded. Something inside him exploded and his fists clenched at his sides. "I don't care, okay? I didn't come here for you."
Squall turned toward to Seagill.
"Take me back to the barracks."
"Squall-" Loire began. "That's your name, right? Squall?"
"Just keep pretending like I don't exist," Squall said. "It'll be easier for both of us."
Squall turned on his heel and stormed out of the room. He didn't need this. He didn't need a father.
Rinoa didn't know much about treating wounds, but she was learning fast. Marissa had assigned her to the infirmary, which was little more than a handful of cots beneath a space covered by a tarp. Watts, a young man who called everyone Sir, regardless of their gender, patiently showed her how to clean and bandage wounds, a task Rinoa found horrifying. It wasn't the blood or the gore that bothered her, it was empathy for the human she was caring for.
This was not what she meant when she said she wanted to help, but realistically, she brought little to the table. Irvine had been right about that. He at least had a skill that was useful. All she had was a sense of outrage over the situation, and that outrage was growing by the day. The more she saw, the angrier she got.
Vinzer Deling was responsible for this, but her father was, too.
And Irvine, in his own way.
Rinoa had learned it was Irvine's bullet that took out Marissa's predecessor and she felt conflicted about that. He'd never been given a choice, and the reality of it was, he didn't have the option to say no. Irvine knew first-hand what happened to those who didn't fall in line and he was just a teenage boy trying to survive this messed up world.
His compliance had an impact, though. She could feel it running all through the refugee camp. The loss of their leaders left them struggling to regroup.
"That looks good, Sir," Watts said of the laceration Rinoa had just finished bandaging. "I think you're getting the hang of it."
"It's not so hard," Rinoa said. "The small stuff anyway."
She cleaned up, washed her hands and surveyed the handful of injured in their care. The injuries ranged from the eight-year-old she'd just patched up, a couple other minor cuts, and a broken wrist. All but one were children and those injuries had been sustained while playing in this broken down place.
With a sigh, she sat back down and wondered if there was something more she could do. She could learn to use a weapon. Maybe not a close range weapon but something like a crossbow or even a rifle, like Irvine.
It wasn't that she wanted to kill. Far from it, but if it meant all this ended, she was willing to get blood on her hands. Hyne knew, those they were fighting against placed no value on human life. Those they were fighting certainly weren't interested in peace talks or negotiation.
Irvine ambled into the infirmary, dressed in a cowboy ensemble he'd put together out of the community clothing pile. Dark wash denim jeans. A flannel shirt that he'd torn the sleeves off of, and a long black coat to match his hat. Rinoa had laughed when he first showed it off because it was so perfectly Irvine, all he needed to complete the look were some spurs on his boots and a big shiny belt buckle.
"Slow day," he said but Rinoa noticed the drying blood on his shirt.
"Are you hurt?" she asked.
"Naw. Got us a couple deer. Dressed 'em right out in the field."
Rinoa gave him a once over, just in case he was lying but didn't see any obvious injuries.
"Walk with me," he said. "Got something I wanna run by you."
"Sure," she said. "Watts? I'll be back in a bit, okay?"
"Take your time, Sir."
"You can call me Rinoa."
"Yes, Sir. Rinoa, Sir."
Rinoa hid her laughter behind her hand, then followed Irvine from the makeshift tent out to the edge of the camp. He didn't stop there but kept walking toward the beach, his rifle still slung over his shoulder.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"Heard talk the Galbadian's found our car," Irvine said. "Caraway's saying we ran afoul of some Dolletian resistance group on our way to Deling City."
"What?" Rinoa asked. "There isn't a Dolletian resistance. They either killed or locked them all up."
"That's propaganda for you."
"So, what does this mean?" she asked. "My dad's playing victim?"
"It means a couple of things," Irvine said. "One, he knows we made it as far as Timber because we all but led him here. Two, he's saying we're presumed dead."
"I can live with being presumed dead," she said.
It was just like her father. Better a dead daughter than one that caused him professional embarrassment.
And presumed dead meant they probably wouldn't look too hard for her.
"Your father's a smart man. I bet he knows you're here," Irvine said. "Which means we might be putting these people in danger if he decides to send forces to liberate you."
Rinoa looked at the distant sea and considered her options. She didn't want to bring her father's wrath down on these people, but she didn't want to give up and go back to Dollet or Deling City either. She would be locked up in her ivory tower forever with no way out.
"I'll turn myself over before that happens," she said. "I don't think he'd chance it, though. There's a reason these people are still here."
"It's only a matter of time before they're not," Irvine said. "Look around you. They might be holding off the G-army, but they're tired. They've been doing this for years and they're not gaining any ground."
Rinoa started pacing. There had to be a way to turn the tide, she just wasn't sure how. She wished she'd paid more attention at those stupid parties. Maybe if she knew more about the Galbadian war effort, she might be able to come up with a better plan.
"And as far as I'm concerned, I'm as good as dead if they find us," Irvine said. "As it is, Deling's looking to engage Esthar sooner rather than later. Which means they'll be sending the bulk of their forces our way, and this camp won't stand a chance. They'll run right over us on their way to FH, Rin. Then we're all dead."
She wondered how connected Esthar was to the outside world. Did they know what was happening outside their borders? Maybe they'd doubled down on their borders already. Maybe they didn't exist anymore, taken down along with Adel as the popular myth claimed.
"I'm thinkin' it might be a better plan to see if we can find a way into Esthar," Irvine said. "Join up that way."
"You want me to join the Estharian army?" Rinoa asked, doubtful. "I don't think so."
"You wanna help these people, it might be the only way," Irvine said. "Otherwise we're gonna die here. And that's a fact."