Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction / Other Fan Fiction ❯ Protecting the Lion ❯ Matters of the Heart ( Chapter 48 )

Chapter Forty-Eight

Matters of the Heart

 

Compared to the blistery weather left behind in Balamb, Fisherman's Horizon was a trip to the Bahamas.

 

Squall had miraculously convinced Seifer to give him the day alone with Laguna. The blond agreed only after a good hour of arguing and then stalked off mumbling something about Sundays sucking.

 

Balamb Garden wasn't scheduled to leave for FH until the following Tuesday, for winter festival preparations, so the father and son pair had taken the train.

 

There was an uneasy awkwardness brought from Squall's silence and Laguna's lack of understanding that the Commander hardly carried on conversations with anyone. However, by the time they had made it to the platform station, the atmosphere seemed to have settled into a more comfortable state.

 

Laguna harped on about anything and everything, while Squall listened impassively, giving subtle nods every so often.

 

Perhaps the only reason the situation improved was because, unlike usual, Squall wasn't growing weary of listening. It was rare that his attention could be held, especially by words. This might have been something the older man sensed in him.

 

Though the distance between Garden and FH was not great, the change in weather was.

 

Surrounded by water, FH barely felt any climate variations as the seasons changed. It was significantly sunny, though white puffy clouds cast cool shade every so often.

 

The rebuilt train station reflected the lack of activity that was always present in the small town. While an outsider might be inclined to think the town had been abandoned, the quite atmosphere was far from desolate. It was peaceful in Squall's opinion.

 

There was a soft breeze. The hoodie he was once again wearing wasn't necessary, but it wasn't overly warm to cause suspicion. As it was, he'd walked enough from Garden to the platform that his muscles loosened most of the ache away. Still, he didn't need to be using Seifer's ridiculous excuse that he'd fallen in the shower. He'd sooner crack his head on the wall before landing on his ass. `Stupid knight,' he cursed, instinctively gripping Leonhart's hilt as though about to spar.

 

As Laguna surveyed the area, those green eyes obviously looking for some form of life, Squall asked, “Have you ever been here?”

 

Surprised at the nearly mute brunet's words, the President turned around abruptly to answer. “No, I've passed by on the train before though. When I was a reporter, I was going to Balamb. From what I knew, this place had nothing to write about. At least, nothing my editor would publish.” Casting a glance down either end of the tracks, he raised his brows, “I can see why.”

 

“It's a quiet place,” Squall explained. The mayor still didn't like him, but so long as he didn't stir any trouble up, his presence was accepted. Besides, he had a feeling that his father might get along well with the hippie who ran FH.

 

“You don't talk a lot, do you?” Laguna questioned abruptly. If he'd asked such a blunt question a day ago, he would have blanched and apologized. However, after what Squall had said to him that morning, about wanting him to remain for a while, it confirmed that his efforts weren't lost and that the distant Commander wasn't giving him the cold shoulder.

 

Staring just long enough to make the longhaired man uncomfortable and perhaps regret his words, Squall quirked a brow and jibed, “You're just figuring that out?”

 

Hazel-green eyes blinked as though dumbstruck. After a moment, Laguna broke out laughing. With a slap on his son's back, he conceded, “You're different than anyone I've met before.”

 

Squall gave a nod of understanding. Most people found it hard to believe that his introverted nature wasn't a personal attack against them. It was a relief to know that he didn't have to put on a friendly front in order to be with his father. That morning had been difficult enough to pull off without it being obviously forced.

 

**

 

“Whoa! I got another one!” the longhaired man cried, clumsily dancing about the dock with his fishing pole.

 

Somewhere between amusement and annoyance, Squall lounged on an overhanging steel I-beam structure. FH was always under some form of construction, and some structures remained unfinished for years at a time. The beginning foundation, of what might turn into a warehouse, was convenient for the Commander.

 

“How many is that?” Squall questioned if only to let the man know he was still awake and paying attention.

 

“I can't remember,” Laguna pouted. Unhooking the wriggling fish, he tossed it back in with a splash.

 

The sun was making its descent in the western sky, casting a warm pink hew on two lonely men. The water's over the horizon were near blinding, but that didn't keep Squall from staring off at them.

 

Laguna's long hair was held in a once folded manner, shortening the ponytail. Wiping a slightly sweaty brow the President gave a pained look of deep thought.

 

Squall was beginning to accept his father's featherbrained tendencies, much the same as he accepted the quirks in each of his friends.

 

Relaxing back again, Squall settled his head against the folded gray material of Seifer's sweatshirt. With his hands cradling his head this time, his traditional white t-shirt road up to reveal a bit of his stomach. It was uncomfortable, yet comfortable at the same time. The steal beam was not the soft surface he would have longed for, but when he was lying down on his back, it wasn't so bad. And, with the sun shining right on him, it was warm. Nearby, at his foot, was Leonhart. Not holstered, the blade proved easier to carry by hand this time around.

 

Gray-blue eyes shifted to study the thinking man. What few wrinkles the ex-soldier had obtained with his age were exemplified by the obviously uncommon pensive expression. With khaki pants and a sea green shirt, unbuttoned at the top and the cuffs rolled up to the elbow, Laguna looked like an easy going frequenter of Fisherman's Horizon.

 

“Thirteen,” Squall mumbled softly, shifting ever so slightly to look as though he were actually dozing and not paying attention in the least.

 

The President's expressive face quickly shifted to silent awe. Such an observant son, who seemed to simply know things rather than learn them, was a secret pride in the older man.

 

Laguna took a moment to glance up at the young man. The well maintained wooden dock, upon which he stood, was at least five feet below the red bar thingy that Squall was on. The whole mass of metal looked like some unfinished jungle gym. The Commander was pale enough to make him wonder how the boy hadn't been turned red with sunburn. They had been out here since noon.

 

For about four hours now, he'd been reeling in fish and filling the time in between with stories about himself. His time with Kiros and Ward, how he'd originally met the pair, and his time in Esthar. The one subject he'd been both consciously and unconsciously veering from was anything pertaining to Raine and Ellone.

 

The quiet young man had sat silently, offering no more than a couple words at a time. About an hour ago, when he had started thinking about which stories he hadn't told yet, he'd begun to wonder if he was being tested. It was proving difficult to accept the impassive and silent nature of his son, even after determining that it was just the boy's personality.

 

Perhaps he'd rambled on long enough. After all, Kiros would have told him to shut up two hours ago, and the dark skinned man was the most tolerant of his talkative and friendly nature.

 

“I'm not a very good fisher, but it's been fun. Do you want to head back?” Laguna questioned, turning around to face the brunet. Cast in light, it was easy to see every subtle movement the boy made, even though he was looking up.

 

Laguna's words caught Squall's attention. Before they went back, he had to mention something about Seifer. There were a barrage of reasons why he hadn't said anything yet, all of which had nothing to do with each other and none of which he was certain was the right one. Procrastinating seemed the foremost. He could sum up his point in a single sentence, yet he'd delayed an entire afternoon and hadn't even broached the subject.

 

Sitting up, Squall hunched forward before arching back. Resuming his normal posture when he was satisfied that his muscles hadn't actually taken to falling asleep, he swung his legs over the edge. With one hand on Leonhart's hilt, he pushed off and landed on the dock. His boots gave a definitive thud against the sandblasted planks.

 

Unsure how to word his reply to his father, Squall settled for being indirect, which wasn't something he prone to do. “I'm told that fourteen fish is the record,” he spoke in a hinting manner while striding forth to stand next to the man, his blade held casually in his right hand.

 

Once again, Laguna found himself studying his son's face and searching for hidden meaning behind those words. It was impossible to know just how many levels this kid spoke on. He took the hint well enough, but there were times when he felt like he should read more into a simple greeting of `hello' so that he might instead hear an entire story.

 

As the brunet drew even, Laguna turned to stare off at the setting sun as well. Glancing sideways he stared at the boy's profiled face. Briefly, he wondered if he could just stare at Squall for hours on end without the brunet complaining. Then again, as the Commander he was probably used to being gawked at.

 

“You look so much like Raine,” he commented before he could think twice. However, as the words reverberated in his mind, he very nearly slapped himself.

 

Gray-blue eyes narrowed, but remained fixed on the horizon. The warm glow of the sun felt nice. His skin was no longer pale under the orange color. Thinking on his father's words, he felt little shock over the matter. This wasn't the first time he'd been told this, not even by Laguna. His father had never outright stated the fact, but he saw it in those hazel-green eyes. The first time they met, there was a shocked and disbelieving recognition. And, each time after, he'd seen a similar look. When Laguna saw his face, the man must always be thinking about his lost love.

 

Whether or not the President had meant to be blunt didn't matter. The serious statement gave Squall a chance to open a new conversation, and show Laguna how he felt about his past. Anything involving his past, also involved a certain blond knight.

 

Blinking, he turned his bright-eyed gaze toward the slightly taller man beside him. “I've been told as much,” he replied, taking a stern step forward. Walking towards the jutting edge of the dock, further outwards over the water, he cast a glance over his shoulder and stated, “But, I wouldn't know.”

 

Tentatively setting the simple rod down, Laguna followed the younger man. `Wouldn't know?' he questioned. Squall's lack of expression and reaction was curious. Disregarding his previous mindset that this was not a topic to approach, Laguna picked his pace up and trailed closer behind. “What do you mean?” he asked.

 

Squall didn't answer right away. Stopping at the very edge of the wooden pathway, he squinted at the reflecting waters that now surrounded his line of sight. He waited for the President to join him so that he needn't raise his voice. “I don't recall her face,” he answered.

 

While Laguna battled internally, between the instinctive logic that he didn't have the right to pry into such matters and his desire to know more about this young Commander who was his son, Squall waited patiently.

 

It had been obvious that Laguna was not comfortable with speaking about Raine or Ellone. Out of all the years that the older man had practically gone through day by day, he'd left out the entire part about Winhill. In truth, Squall wasn't very comfortable with it either. There was a part of him that was afraid of the man's disapproval upon learning that he didn't remember half of it.

 

A breeze picked up, carrying an aroma of fried food from a nearby restaurant.

 

At length, the unsure father braved himself to ask at least a few questions he'd thus far felt too personal to ask, and perhaps too much of a fool to expect an answer. “You were four when you went into the orphanage, right?” When he said `orphanage', the word was forced and held a bad taste.

 

As the breeze continued, blowing choppy strands of chocolate colored hair about, Squall gave an affirmative nod.

 

“You've seen her from my memories, right?” Laguna questioned. If Squall had been too young at four, then the Commander should at least have what his own memories showed to go by.

 

With another nod, Squall decided to be kind and give the man a better explanation. “Faces grow dim quickly. I don't remember anything about your memories or Raine or Ellone, just what the others mention.”

 

Widened green eyes turned to him in alarm. “Amnesia?” he remarked with worry.

 

With scoff, Squall shook his head. “It would be Alzheimer's, not amnesia. And, no, I don't have either. I don't remember, because my memories are my sacrifice.”

 

Dark brows, similar to Squall's, furrowed in confusion. Laguna continued to stare at his son with worry. After a moment his mind recalled a little known fact about SeeD members. “Guardian Forces?”

 

With a wry smile, Squall gave another nod, as though congratulating the man for a correct answer.

 

“But….” Laguna wracked his brain for everything he knew about the mystical Guardians. Aside from SeeD, most people didn't know anything about the creatures. He knew that there was something about memory loss, but that's why there were strict rules about how long to keep them inside the head.

 

“I don't unjunction Shiva,” Squall supplied the increasingly frazzled looking man.

 

Horrified at the implications his son made, Laguna turned to the boy. “Squall,” he spoke sternly, momentarily forgetting his disposition, “You can't do that.”

 

“Perhaps,” Squall conceded calmly. A small part of him agreed with the older man. In the long run, there was a good chance a greater sacrifice would be made. His memory might go completely or he might wake up each morning and have to think really hard in order to remember whom he was. But, no one knew what `in the long run' meant, so he might as well find out while he kept his Guardian junctioned. Shiva was a part of him, no different than an arm or leg. He needed her like air, like Seifer.

 

Seeing the distress in his father's eyes, Squall soothed over, “It's fine. She doesn't take what I wish to keep.” As soon as he said it, he realized how harsh his words were, and just what it meant. But, it was the truth, and not something he'd lie about. If he wanted to remember his mother, and his sister, then he'd ask for those memories back and exchange something meaningless.

 

Laguna was stricken by his son's admittance. “You don't want to remember?”

 

Thinking on it for a moment, Squall sighed. “It's not necessarily want,” he began, “I don't need to remember.” Something occurred to him then, something he hadn't really noticed before. Frowning in disapproval, Squall thought back and tried to remember something.

 

With growing confusion, Laguna watched the Commander frown in distaste. “What is it?” he asked automatically.

 

“Shiva,” Squall stated distantly, as though the reply was an unconscious motion of his mouth.

 

Eyes closed, Squall searched carefully, picking through details to make certain he remembered correctly. His heart was beating faster at the looming understanding behind it all. Forgetting about where he was and whom he was with, he muttered, “Only what I need.”

 

Raking a frustrated hand through his messy hair, Squall cursed. He was such an idiot, more so than Seifer, which was quite the accomplishment.

 

The concerned voice of Laguna filtered through, “Squall?” The longhaired man placed a firm hand on a slim shoulder.

 

Snapping back to reality, Squall turned widened eyes to his father. Blinking, he turned his gaze away and raised a pensive hand to his mouth. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

 

“What is it?” As Laguna spoke, the hand on the younger man's shoulder gave a small squeeze of assurance.

 

“An epiphany,” the brunet mumbled again, lowering his hand. With a heavy sigh, Squall berated himself and resolved that he just wasn't cut out for any form of self-analysis. Under any other circumstances, he would have shrug the older man's hand off and muttered the one worded answer of `nothing'. But, this might just be the perfect opportunity to talk about Seifer.

 

Laguna tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Care to share?” His words almost betrayed the sarcasm he felt underneath. Squall had already been more open and forthright in this single day than in all the months he'd known and pushed himself into the Commander's life. There was little chance of getting the brunet to divulge anything more personal.

 

Soft gray-blue eyes returned their scan of the water meeting the sky. With a small smile, which came from understanding a bit more about the reasons behind the sudden change in his life, Squall answered, “I've never forgotten a single memory… about Seifer.”

 

It was true. Even when he'd completely forgotten about Quistis and everyone else, he remembered who Seifer was and what they had been through together. Even when Seifer had left and he no longer had the memory-prompting source of seeing the blond in person, he recalled every spar and every fight. It had never seemed odd that he was able remember Seifer. After all, they had known each other since they were little boys. And after remembering his friends, it didn't seem weird that he held memories of the blond. It was odd, however that there wasn't a single time when those memories were hazy.

 

Shiva had known not to take something so important.

 

“Your bodyguard?” Laguna questioned incredulously. Was Squall saying that he was willing to forget about Raine, but never once forgot about Ultimecia's knight? Part of the President was outraged over this.

 

Squall bit his lip, wondering if this was the moment to say it. Was it premature? Or did it not matter? Tightly gripping Leonhart, he anchored himself with the reassuring feel of the blade in his hand. “Not my bodyguard,” Squall began, feeling his heart beat a bit faster against his will. His fingers were beginning to go numb as his knuckles turned white. “My lover,” he corrected.

 

The silence was unbroken.

 

Squall's eyes remained fixed over the waters. The sun kissed the horizon at that moment, splaying forth a more narrowed line of colors over the shifting waves.

 

“Y-your lover?” the older man stuttered in response.

 

Clenching his teeth, Squall felt apprehension wash over him. It was the most peculiar feeling to have. Why did it matter what Laguna thought? The President of Esthar was his father in title only. He'd gone his entire life without knowing the man, so why did his body betray him with such nervous feelings?

 

Not shifting to look at Laguna, Squall said, “Since his return.”

 

“He was a sorceress' knight,” Laguna pointed out, regaining the ability to think and speak properly.

 

“And now he's not,” Squall countered weakly as though the argument was moot to begin with.

 

“Squall!” Laguna abruptly erupted. His son was willingly forgot about the one woman he loved with all his heart, whilst relishing in the fact that memories of some sorceress' knight were undisturbed.

 

Squall didn't say anything, he just waited for Laguna to express his feelings more clearly. Although, the brunet had a decent hunch which way the man was leaning.

 

Forcefully, the usually laidback man turned the smaller brunet to face him. “What about Raine? Were her memories not precious to you?” He gave an instilling shake to narrow shoulders.

 

Frowning in disapproval, Squall harshly knocked the longhaired man's hold off. The muffled clanking of his blade sounded within its sheath as he did so. The warning was clear. They might have grown a bit closer, but there were still boundaries, which were not to be crossed.

 

There was a flaring of pain at the way his father had expressed a lowly view of Seifer. Had the man not been talking with the ex-knight that very day? Had the two of them not been laughing their asses off together over some inside joke about that barman in Dollet? He wanted to lash out and reprimand Laguna for speaking without understanding, but he remained silent.

 

Reining in his rampant emotions, Squall took a steady breath. In the rare times when he felt irrationality take hold, he found it best to settle down and pretend to view the situation from someone else's view.

 

Immediately, Squall realized his father's misconception. “I was too young to remember Raine when I was given to Matron's care.” When the older man before him didn't seem convinced, he explained, “I don't remember, but I'm told that the only person I talked about was Ellone. Raine… my mother… may have died in birth for all I know.”

 

Narrowed hazel-green eyes softened. “I'm sorry,” Laguna began to apologize, coming down from an over reactive moment of anger.

 

“I've known Seifer since I was four years old,” Squall spoke over any more words of regret from the President. His tone was cold, as though teaching a misbehaving student a lesson in manners. “My time spent there isn't all blank. As I said, I remember everything with Seifer, and Shiva has given back most memories of the others.”

 

Hesitantly, Laguna reached a hand out again, but stopped and retracted from the contact. “Squall,” he whispered with regret. He felt terrible. He'd just single handedly ruined what little foundation they'd built together. It was times like these that he cursed his foolish and over emotional nature.

 

Ignoring the man's regret, Squall impressed a point. He couldn't stand to have doubt in this matter, to have the older man think any less of his relationship with Seifer than it deserved. “Everyone left the orphanage. They all found families, and never looked back. But, I was left behind, and so was Seifer. We've been together our whole lives.”

 

When Laguna didn't say anything, Squall broke down and turned to the man expectantly. However, the older man simply looked down with averted eyes, obviously not willing to comment.

 

“I'm surprised you have nothing to say,” the Commander admitted. It was an ironic turn of events, to become the one speaking in lengths while the longhaired chatterbox acted depressingly subdued and remained silent.

 

Again, with regret fill eyes, Laguna snapped his head up and stared into solemn gray-blue eyes. He almost felt like crying over the botched up mess he'd created. He'd never become close to this boy, not after this. “It's not my place, I'm sorry,” he spoke rigidly.

 

Displeased, Squall frowned. How was it not Laguna's place? He'd told the man with the intention of informing his father about the drastic change in his life. “That's why I wanted to talk with you,” Squall admitted. “The others know about me and Seifer, but no one else.” With a mirthless scoff, he continued, “You can imagine the media frenzy this will create. But, I wanted you to know, because we're serious about being together, and because you're my father.”

 

Laguna's refusal to discuss the matter was all the answer Squall needed. Having spoken his peace, the brunet felt the disastrous turn of the conversation was not something he needed to stand around and gawk at like some train wreck. Turning around, he casually walked away.

 

Before the Commander could get more than five paces away, Laguna's voice stopped him.

 

“Parental acceptance?” the President suddenly cried out in desperate questioning. Whirling around, he stared after his son, hating the feeling he had at seeing the boy's backside.

 

“Yeah, something like that,” Squall replied evenly. Not looking back, he continued to walk away.

 

“Wait!” Laguna called out again, the desperation felt paramount. Atop his own self loathing and misery over crushing his unstable relationship with his son, now he had this painful hope that Squall really did care and that he hadn't ruined it all.

 

Halting yet again, Squall waited with bated breath for what the older man had to say. `What could possibly make this any worse?' he wondered.

 

Like any foolishly asked question of what could make something worse, the jinx was set and the situation took another nosedive, passing the ground in which it had crashed on and digging to the molten core.

 

“I love you!” the desperate father cried for the entire world to hear, even if that world only consisted of the fish in the surrounding water. The slightly awkward declaration from a father to a son did not seem out of place, but only on the account that neither person within hearing range knew the proper wording used in such exchanges between family.

 

Eyes clenched shut, Squall let a silent stream of curses loose within his mind.

 

Laguna figured that he had nothing to lose by directly asking Squall for an answer. “Do you care about me at all?”

 

Squall felt like pinching the bridge of his nose and stalking away from the situation entirely. However, the image of a broken hearted Laguna would surely haunt him for the rest of his life. How had this come about? He should have let Seifer handle this. The blond would have just pinched his ass and started making out with him to get the message of their relationship across.

 

It would be pretentious and cruel to lie to the warm hearted man by saying that he secretly returned the same feelings. It was not something he could bring himself to do, not even when he turned around and was affronted by the sorrowful and desperate look in those mixed green eyes.

 

The Commander wondered whether his affection was worth so much distress. Surely Ellone loved the man, and he wasn't even the girl's real father. So, why was he so important? Why was Laguna so desperate for him to feel the same?

 

Tearing his eyes away from Laguna's he stared thoughtfully at the planks beneath his feet. It would be hypocritical to disapprove of Laguna's attachment to himself when he'd been prostrating and bending over backwards to please the man. It wasn't like him to do anything out of pity, which meant that he cared for his father. But, the extent of that caring was still unknown to him.

 

Gripping Leonhart fiercely again, Squall took a few steps back, towards his father. The older man watched his every move as though his answer would be conveyed in them. When he was a few feet away, he spoke softly with as much sincerity as he could manage at the moment, “I don't know why, but I do.”

 

Mentally, Squall was begging to let it be enough, for Laguna to be appeased with this knowledge. But, somehow, he knew it wasn't.

 

“Do you love me?” the longhaired man pressed.

 

Seifer had proven to the brunet that there was no hiding the truth. “I don't know,” Squall replied firmly.

 

Before Squall could even think about dodging, the ex-Galbadian soldier proved his background and moved in a swift blur of a light colored shirt and fluttering dark hair.

 

The receding pain Squall had felt since that morning did not mean he should go about aggravating his lower back again. He could have handled Selphie at this point, but Laguna was a bigger man than he was, and the weight was not something he could take.

 

As the older man pounced forward and gripped the smaller man in a fierce embrace, the buckled resistance sent the two sprawling over. Squall half expected to feel flaring pain as he connected with the hard wood and took on the brunt of the fall. However, when no such connection was made, his right arm instinctively tossed Leonhart out.

 

Just as the clanking sound of his gunblade falling onto the dock reached his ears, his back made contact with the water.

 

The two of them toppled over the edge and into the shifting waves below.