7

CHAPTER 7 – ROSES AND WINE

"One Gotland red, one Balamb whiskey, and one… virgin pineapple daiquiri."

"Coming right up," the bartender replied. "You with those two, again? Take a seat. I'll have Diane bring 'em over."

[What the hell's going on?!]

Laguna stood still at the bar as the now familiar pang shot through his mind. The more he focused, the more apparent the cause became; the strange buzzing sensation from the forest had returned. Though he'd been thankful to some extent for a genuine issue in place of his feigned leg injury, he'd been just as grateful when it had disappeared. Still, he'd brought it up to the medical staff at the compound upon their return to the capital. They'd performed an MRI scan and, finding no abnormalities, suggested it was a symptom of general anxiety. So long as it wasn't the onset of PTSD, he could cope with it.

Following his examination, post-mission debriefing, and a full day's rest, Laguna and his comrades had taken to the Deling City streets. Referring to his home by its new name still proved difficult. All his life, it had been the eponymous capital city of Galbadia; so it had been for centuries before Esthar's bid for world domination. With war looming on the horizon, and the people in need of stable leadership, the senate had voted to indefinitely extend President Vinzer Deling's term. His first use of his emergency powers had been to re-brand the city's name with his own. From there, he'd ordered the splintered western nations be ushered together under Galbadia's flag, hence his squad's deployment to Timber.

Laguna had never taken a vested interest in politics; he was content to leave such matters to those who knew more about running a nation than he ever could. Even so, as the image of the burning woodlands replayed in his mind's eye, he couldn't help but think a line had been crossed somewhere. A night on the town was in order after such an ordeal.

He turned from the bar to make his way back to his teammates. Both were seated at a small circular table, one of many dotting the Royal Galbadia Hotel's basement lounge. Each bore a single lit candle placed in the center. The lights above were dimmed to provide a subdued, romantic ambiance; several couples had already started putting it to use before the show's start. His partners, now outfitted in their own casual wear, stuck out cartoonishly by comparison.

"The drinks'll be right over," he told them, taking his seat.

"Yours should be easy to pick out," Ward teased him.

"Hey, that was a rough few days we had out there! Maybe I'm in the mood to drink!"

"Then, why don't we head on down to the Tipsy Mog instead?" Kiros smirked.

"You crazy?! I'm tryin' to keep away from all the army watering holes. You remember what happened last time, right?"

"I'm sure the major is over that. It was only on his boots, after all."

"Yeah, and you're forgetting the part after where I got those boots right up my ass!"

"I'm not," Ward smiled.

"Um, sirs?"

Laguna turned his head up. A young woman with short cropped hair stood at the table, balancing their drinks on a tray. He embarrassingly nodded to her with a wave; their exchange had gotten a bit too crass. She placed the drinks on the table, and retreated back to the bar. Just as Ward had predicted, Laguna's daiquiri was the odd one out.

"If that's alcoholic, then I'm having sparkling water," he snorted, reaching for the whiskey.

"That obvious?"

"Painfully," Kiros chuckled as he took his first sip of red wine. "We all know you don't come here for the drinks. Just be honest about it."

"Well… yeah, maybe not, but… you know, it's just nice to kick back with some music for a change."

"Closer, but that's still not it."

"Well, let's see what's behind curtain number one," Ward motioned forward.

Laguna shifted his attention to the stage at the front of the lounge. The overhead spotlights switched on, lighting up the drawn curtains. A mild round of applause kicked up as they parted. The drapery gave way to a stunning grand piano, and moments later, an even more stunning young beauty. Her shoulder-length hair was luscious black, her satin dress an elegant red. She bowed to the audience before taking her seat at the piano.

Her name was Julia, and true to his friends' ribbing, she was his reason for coming. She'd recently been making a name for herself as a regular performer at the hotel. Her sets typically consisted of piano arrangements of popular music, with a few originals sprinkled in. Laguna adored all of it.

She adjusted her sheet music, stretched her dainty fingers, lowered them to the keys, and began. He recognized the cover right away. It was a regular one at her shows, an instrumental arrangement of a popular ballad titled, 'Where I Belong'; its soothing melody walked a careful balancing act between melancholy and joy. The original version had been played to death on the radio for years. In Julia's hands however, it spoke to him so much more clearly, without need for lyrics. It warmed his heart as he sipped from his drink.

"The ambiance is nice, I'll admit," Kiros murmured.

"Yeah," Laguna sighed. "She's really something, huh?"

"What's your goal here?" Ward asked as he set his whiskey down. "You come in, get a drink, sit down, watch from the shadows, and leave. Every single time."

"What am I supposed to do?" he shot back in a hushed voice.

"If you're so interested, show it. Give her a little wave, why don't you?"

"Can't you see she's working right now?!"

The round of applause drowned out Laguna's hiss. Having wrapped up the piece, Julia turned on the bench to bow her head. She scanned over the approving audience with a smile. It abruptly faded as her gaze landed on him.

Her deep brown eyes stared right into his. He could almost feel them peer straight through him, exposing him for the hopeless romantic he was. The smile returned to her lips after a moment. She turned back to her sheet music, pulled two pages from the rear of the pile, and placed them front and center. Whatever she was about to play clearly hadn't been next in the running order.

"If that's not clear as day," Kiros elbowed him.

Julia started up again. The new piece was one Laguna did not recognize; it wasn't a cover of any song he knew, nor could he recall hearing it at any of her previous shows. It was cheerier and slightly more upbeat than 'Where I Belong', though still definitively a piano ballad.

"What are you waiting for?" Ward leaned in. "That was a really good sign."

"You want me to just walk up to her while she's playing? I'm trying not to look like a creep."

"And sitting here, staring her down night after night isn't creepy?"

Ward had a point; intended or not, his attitude could easily be misinterpreted. Regardless, strolling up to the stage out of the blue was unthinkable; it could just as easily be seen as disregard for personal boundaries. One fleeting smile was all he had to go off of. For all he knew, it could have been directed at someone right behind him. He turned to look; there was no other occupied table there. All the pieces seemed to line up. Still, the fear kept him paralyzed.

"I think my leg's acting up again."

"Tell you what," Kiros said, placing his wine glass back on the table. "For every song she finishes before you go up and give her a little wave, I'm getting us put on traffic duty for one hour."

"What?! You're joking! Don't you remember the pile-up from last time?"

"Because someone parked our transport in the middle of the street," Ward butted in.

"Better get moving, then," Kiros threatened.

Laguna hesitantly stumbled to his feet. The chewing out he'd received for the previous incident still haunted him; a repeat of that would surely be worse than any rejection. He slunk around the adjoining tables towards the bar, coming to the right-hand wall. From there, he inched his way forward, drawing ever closer to the stage from the side. He stepped out into Julia's line of sight.

[Is this guy serious?]

Laguna again brushed off the strange mental dissonance. He stayed in place until Julia eventually turned her eyes to him. She carefully looked him over without interrupting her piece. His heart pounding in his chest, he raised his hand, and waved to her with an embarrassed grin. Her own expression was one he could not easily read. Perhaps intrigue, but just as likely confusion. Had he indeed crossed a boundary? He swiftly turned around, and hurried back to his table.

"There, happy?" he snapped to Kiros.

"Are you?"

"Credit where it's due," Ward grunted. "You had the balls."

"Didn't cut a very manly figure, though."

"Whatever," Laguna snorted.

He took a sip of his daiquiri as Julia finished the second piece. Another round of applause followed. So her performance continued for roughly 20 minutes more, during which the trio ordered another round of drinks. For his second, Laguna opted for the alcoholic variant, figuring a different sort of buzz might help to alleviate the odd anxiety symptoms.

The last thing he'd wanted was to make the woman he admired uncomfortable. No matter how many times he replayed the scenario in his head however, he couldn't envision it in a favorable light. The same could be said for his regular attendance, which had clearly not gone unnoticed. As she finished her final number, and took her bow, he considered if this night ought to be his last.

"I can see her going places," Kiros said as she walked off stage.

"Yeah," Laguna agreed. "Talent, looks, personality… the whole package."

"Don't sound so down," Ward said. "You've got confidence to spare in the field. This stuff should be a cinch."

"You'd think so."

He couldn't accept the compliment; if he ever seemed so, it was only because he longed for bigger and better things. Ward abruptly gulped down the last of his whiskey, and stood up.

"Laguna, we're gonna take off," he announced.

"Huh?! What gives?!"

"Just stay a while, and relax," Kiros advised, rising to his own feet. "The drinks are on us this time."

"Uh… thanks, I guess, but… why the hurry?"

The two of them were already halfway over to the bar by the time he got the words out. They moved with purpose, seemingly to distance themselves from Laguna as quickly as possible. Had he somehow offended them? Had his persistent negativity gotten under their skin?

"Excuse me?"

The voice came from across the table. Laguna spun back around, and nearly fell out of his seat in shock.

"May I?" Julia asked. She gestured to where Kiros had been sitting.

"Uh… yes, of course!" he stammered.

Those sneaky bastards.

"Sorry, did I interrupt anything?" she asked as she took the open seat.

"No, no, absolutely not! Please."

Oh man, oh man, this is really happening! What do I do?! What do I say?! But… man, she really is pretty.

[What's this guy thinking?]

"Are you okay?" she asked. Her eyes showed genuine concern.

"Y-yeah, I'm cool," he feigned. "Just a little out of it. Me and my squad got back from Timber yesterday."

"Oh, my!" she gasped. "I've heard it's been terrible out there! Were you wounded?"

"Nah, nothing serious. Took the wind out of us, though. So, I figured we'd, y'know, come here to take a load off and relax a bit."

"I see. But… you don't seem very relaxed."

"Well… yeah, I just… well, you see…"

His tongue contorted and twisted itself in knots. He was truly speechless.

"Nervous?" she softly smiled. "Don't be. In fact, I've been meaning to talk to you."

"To… to me?!"

This can't be real…

"Yes," she sweetly chuckled.

She swiped an unused napkin on the table with one hand. Her other pulled a pen from her dress pocket. She clicked it, and scribbled something on the white cloth.

"But, it's a little crowded here. I'd rather we talk somewhere a bit more private."

She slipped the pen back into her dress, and slid the napkin across to him.

"If you're interested, I'll be waiting for you."

She gave him a playful smile, and rose from her seat. She crossed the lounge to the staircase leading to the hotel lobby, her flowing satin dress brushing along each step on the way up. Laguna lowered his eyes to the napkin. A brief message was scrawled on it in elegant cursive: 'Room 712'.

He sat in silence for what felt like hours, unable to take his eyes off the cloth. There was simply no way he could be reading it right. His alcohol tolerance might have been on the lower end of the spectrum, but surely one drink couldn't have put him so far out of it. Perhaps it was the buzzing in his head which had caused him to hallucinate the entire exchange. And yet, the writing remained printed on the napkin. The perfume still lingered in the seat next to him. It had been no illusion.

He bolted to his feet, shoved the napkin into his pocket, and darted for the stairs. The lobby flew by in a blur as he raced for the elevator. He pressed the button for the seventh floor, a frantic excitement building in his gut as the lift began to rise; the anticipation of what awaited him in Room 712 was too much to bear.

Am I really going to…?!

[Am I really going to…?!]

The doors opened to the seventh floor hallway. He raced ahead, coming to an abrupt halt at the correct room. His heart caught in his throat. He breathed deeply, and raised his fist to knock.

"Play it cool," he mumbled. "Just like Ward said. Confidence."

He rapped his knuckles twice on the door.

"Coming!"

The knob turned after a few seconds. The door opened to reveal Julia, still in her red dress. He must not have been sitting by himself for very long, after all.

"I'm glad you came," she smiled. "I was starting to think I'd come on too strong."

"N-not at all," he stammered, stepping through. "Thank you for, uh, inviting me."

The room featured one queen-size bed with a pink duvet. Two lamps sat upon small dressers to either side. A writing desk rested against the opposite wall, with page after page of sheet music strewn atop. A small table with two chairs stood before the bay window overlooking the city skyline. The downtown district beyond was lit up by colorful neon lights. Far in the distance, at the very heart of the city, the golden Iguion Gate loomed. It was a relic from the Holy Dollet Empire; towering at roughly 70 feet, and decorated all over by sculpted stone gargoyles, it had been the city's most famous tourist attraction for ages.

"Please, have a seat," Julia motioned as she closed the door. "Would you like some wine?"

"I'm… not really a heavy drinker," Laguna confessed.

He strolled over to one of the chairs. A bouquet of roses rested atop the table, along with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

"I'm not trying to get you loaded," she giggled. "Just a little bit to take the edge off. I can tell you're nervous."

She sat down opposite him, popped the cork, and poured herself half a glass. Against his better judgment, he accepted the bottle from her when she was finished. He fumbled for small talk as he filled up his own.

"Well, I, uh… it's just that… I'm a pretty big fan of yours."

"So, that's why you always come to hear me play?"

"Y-you noticed?"

He nearly spilled the bottle as he lowered it.

"Of course," Julia beamed. "You always have that same, sweet smile whenever I see you out there. You have very beautiful eyes, you know… though, they look a little scared right now."

Laguna shied away in embarrassment. He could feel his face turning red as a beet.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna pluck 'em and eat 'em! I just wanted to talk."

"About what?" he asked, taking a swig to calm his nerves.

"About you. I want to get to know my admirer. What you do, what you like, the sky's the limit. Like, how long have you been in the army?"

"Uh, a little less than a year now."

He took another swig on reflex. As it traveled down his throat, he could tell it was already having the desired effect on him.

"I joined right before the war started up. Might've thought twice if I'd known what was coming. The battlefield isn't something you ever get used to."

[I'll drink to that.]

"I can imagine," Julia replied, taking a sip; her eyes were completely focused on him. "You said you just got back from Timber, right? That must have been rough."

"Yeah, seems like the world's gone crazy. This sure wasn't what I signed up for."

"Why did you join, then?"

He averted his eyes to the dazzling city lights beyond the window. His aspirations were something he seldom spoke of; it had taken him months to find the courage to tell Kiros and Ward.

"It's complicated. When you boil it all down, though, I guess it's because I was looking for something to give my life meaning. Maybe it's kind of selfish, but… I just wanted to see what the world had to show me. Travel to different places, try new things, and maybe make some good memories along the way."

"And have you?"

"Oh, yeah."

He flashed her a grin. For his courage to tell her, he rewarded himself with another sip.

"There've been good times with the bad. If I hadn't joined, I never would've met my two best pals. They might be royal pains sometimes, but they've always got my back. I don't know where I'd be right now without them."

"That's great!" she lit up. "And I don't think that's selfish. Do whatever makes your life worth living."

"Yeah," he sighed, turning his gaze back to his drink. "But, like I said, it ain't all sunshine. And after these last few days, I know my future's not with the army for much longer… hey, can I tell you something?"

"Anything you want."

Just being in her presence made him feel invincible. He gulped down a significantly larger swig, and stood up, placing his hand on the table to steady himself.

"Well, I wanna be a journalist! Y'know, write about all the places I've been to, the things I've seen, share all that stuff with everyone! It's my dream!"

"A travel journalist?" Julia pensively hummed. "Wow… that would be a great way of following your dreams."

"Yeah, it'd be great!" Laguna slurred. "But, I'm talkin' way too much. What about you? What's your dream for the future?"

[Why do I feel like I'm being mocked?]

"My dream?"

She glanced down.

"Well… I really want to sing. Not just play piano, but sing, too. With my own original songs."

"Oh, really? I'd love to hear that!"

"It's something I've wanted to do for a long time, but never had the courage to go through with. I'm not very good at writing lyrics. I've tried. The inspiration is just never there. But, now…"

She paused, and raised her eyes once more to him; they now gleamed with hope and longing.

"Thanks to you, I think I can come up with something."

Laguna's legs gave out from under him. Whether it were owed to the alcohol or the shock, he couldn't tell. He collapsed back down into his chair.

"Thanks… to me?"

"Yes," Julia blushed. "The second song I played tonight… did you like it? I wrote it for you. I want to give it lyrics one day. And now, I think I know where to start. Everything you've just told me… about your dreams, your fears, the good times, and the bad… the support you've shown me… your smile, your face, your eyes… I think I can make it work."

Laguna had no words; even sober, he doubted he could ever have found the right ones. He slumped forward with his arm laid out on the table.

"I must be dreamin'."

[This is too weird to be a dream.]

The sensation was barely noticeable amid his swirling mind. It was nothing compared to the feeling of Julia's hand on his.

"It's not a dream, is it?"

His vision blurred as he slipped from consciousness. He'd reached his limit.

"Oh, now I see what you meant. I didn't know wine made you sleepy…"

He awoke on a soft, plush surface. His eyes met bright fluorescent lights above, forcing him to bring one hand up against the glare. A groan escaped his parched throat. Laguna had foolishly tried taking in more than he could manage, on an empty stomach no less. The room seemed to subtly jerk around him, adding to his disorientation. He brought his hand up to his pounding forehead. His eyes shot wide open as he felt one of his fingers dip into what felt like a small divot.

Is that… a scar?

Squall jolted upright, darting his eyes about the train cabin. He lay upon the large sofa beneath the curtained windows, the drapes gently swaying in time with the mechanized rustling. His squadmates were nowhere in sight.

As the pounding finally subsided, he brought up his wrist to check the time. The watch's digital display read 20:49. Considering they'd boarded at least 20 minutes before the train's scheduled departure, he had evidently been out for just over an hour. Strangely, it seemed to correlate perfectly with what time he'd spent as Laguna.

He recalled his prior two experiences in the body of the bumbling soldier. Both had been every bit as vivid, if slightly easier to rationalize; having come immediately before and after the field exam, he'd been able to write them off as his anxious mind getting the better of him. Perhaps being saddled with so much responsibility on his first assignment had unnerved him to a similar degree. And yet, never had the stress become so overwhelming as to make him lose consciousness. The sensation had gradually built up from a slight headache to an unbearable piercing of the mind, its intensity swelling the more he'd fought. As he thought back on the episode however, he wondered if perhaps the experience had not been so unprecedented after all. The symptoms as he'd crawled his way into bed following the exam and experienced Laguna's trek through the forest had been the very same.

This is all too weird...

His pondering stalled as the door hissed open.

"Squall!"

Selphie bolted inside, coming to a rest beside him on the couch. Zell just as quickly rounded the corner into the cabin.

"Oh, shit, you're up!"

"Are you alright?" Selphie asked as she put her hand on his shoulder. "Zell told me you passed out! Are you feeling sick?"

"I… I think I'm okay," he muttered.

"I tried shaking you out of it, but you weren't responding," Zell explained. "I was gonna call the medical staff, but... well, considering the mission, I figured we oughta hold off until we were well on our way. They might've turned the train around to get you back if we told 'em too soon."

"Good thinking," Squall grunted. That his squadmates had kept their focus on the assignment was the best thing he could have hoped for.

"You still had a pulse, so that took some of the pressure off. Look, if you're not feeling well, let us know, okay? That scared the shit outta me."

"I'm fine," Squall assured him. "It's probably just stress. It's my problem, I'll deal with it."

"If you say so. Just remember, we're a team here."

"What he said!" Selphie agreed. "So, you hungry? We just got back from the dining car."

"I... guess," he sighed.

Squall rose to his feet as she relieved her hand from his shoulder. Whatever the cause of these persistent dreams, he'd be wasting his time trying to figure it out. With his first mission awaiting him in the morning, there were more important matters at hand. Most immediate was his rumbling stomach. It compelled him to the cabin door and out into the hallway. The ocean depths sped on by through the carriage windows, as the train raced ahead along the transparent underwater tunnel.

"To the right, and down three cars," Zell said as he stepped through into the hall. "You sure you'll be alright by yourself?"

"I told you, I'm okay!" he insisted.

His intuition told him otherwise. Just as with Laguna, it was all bluster to cover up his insecurity.

Great, I'm even starting to sound like that idiot now...