Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Living with Heart ❯ Living with Heart ( Chapter 2 )

 

Living with Heart

Act II

 

“My bag is so heavy, why don't we have someone pick us up?” Rinoa complained for the twentieth time.

 

Squall reached out and tugged on the bag's strap. Rinoa released the luggage with a grin, brown eyes watching as her attractive boyfriend carried all their stuff with ease. He had muscles, but he wasn't bulky like some guys she'd known.

 

“How much longer do we have to walk?” she asked.

 

“A couple miles to the nearest lift, that's all,” Squall replied, wishing Rinoa would just enjoy the nice weather.

 

“I still can't believe that Laguna Loire is your dad, I mean, talk about fate. I guess everything comes together in the end, doesn't it?” She stepped closer to the darkly clad SeeD and linked her arm through his, regardless of the duffle bag he carried.

 

The couple walked from the train station on the outskirts of Esthar. The giant city nation loomed over the horizon. The sight was almost chilling with its surreal atmosphere. It was such a vision of previously unimaginable technology. The sun was high in the sky behind them, making the tallest towers shimmer as though made of glass.

 

Squall was on his way to spend time with President Loire, to get to know the man who was his father. The truth behind it was that Headmaster Cid and Commander Xu wanted him to secure Esthar's favor. Apparently, they were extremely hopeful in establishing good relations with the technologically advanced country.

 

Naturally, Rinoa was hyped to come along. However, she was dismayed to learn that his time spent there was intended to stay off the charts, hence the walking instead of an official entourage. She'd been looking forward to the five star treatment. Laguna was like a king, which made Squall a prince and herself a princess.

 

“You're awfully quite today,” the young woman chided gently. Hugging Squall's arm more tightly, she none too discretely pressed her chest against it. If she could feel the hardened muscle of his upper arm through that thick leather bomber jacket, then he could no doubt feel her breasts.

 

“Just thinking,” Squall mumbled absently. He felt the familiar tendrils of magic that Rinoa exuded. They wrapped around him. A dull pounding began in his head, a simple headache that came with the urging push.

 

Silently hoping that it was all that training as a SeeD that made Squall impervious to the feel of her chest, she chastised, “You think too much.” While she was far from expecting every man to fall head over heals for her, she had some sense of expectancy. She wasn't a self-thought narcissist, but she admired her beauty in the mirror from time to time.

 

Shutting his eyes for a brief moment, Squall steeled himself. “I do, don't I?” he spoke softly. Leaning over he placed a quick kiss to the top of the shorter girl's head. The effect was immediate, all rising magic dispersing and leaving him headache free.

 

Rinoa rest her head against the brunet's arm. “So, tell me about him,” she prompted.

 

Frowning, Squall stared forward. He wanted to roll his eyes, but Rinoa seemed able to tell when he did this without even seeing. “I never knew him as a child,” he replied. He wondered how often he'd have to recount his history before Rinoa actually listened to him. Sometimes he wondered why she encouraged him to talk more when she obviously never listened in the first place.

 

“Oh, but what if maybe you just don't remember. That'd be so sad, do you think maybe you just don't remember him? You'd never forget me would you sweetie?”

 

Squall chewed on his bottom lip, silently praying to Hyne for patience. Rinoa always meant well, she was truly a sweet young woman, but there were times when he wanted to brush her off or flat out tell her she was being ridiculous.

 

He could feel her gaze upon him, her head tilted up to stare at his face. Putting on a small smile he replied, “I'll never forget about you. I haven't had GFs junctioned since the final battle. Everything comes back once you're unjunctioned long enough. I never knew President Loire prior to the dreams and meeting him in Esthar.”

 

“Stop calling him that, he's your dad.”

 

Squall cringed automatically. Rinoa had been correcting him all morning, but it was one issue he felt inclined to deal with in his own manner. “He's a total stranger, I'm not calling him dad.”

 

“Then call him father,” she suggested, knowing that Squall was probably the sort of person to use such a distant sounding title.

 

“It's the same thing,” the brunet replied a little too tersely for his own good. He felt Rinoa's magic start up once more. He needed to address that problem again. He'd already discussed the idea of her training with Edea or Ellone, maybe seeing Dr. Odine in Esthar, but she'd dismissed him. She reasoned that the magic he felt was her love for him as her knight.

 

“You know, Seifer always said he wished he'd had a family and that it would be wonderful if he could be reunited with them.”

 

Squall shot Rinoa an incredulous look, but turned away abruptly before she could see it. He'd known Seifer for years, and the former knight harbored nothing but contempt for being abandoned. Unlike most kids at the orphanage, he and Seifer were not victims of war, but of parents who didn't want to keep them. Granted, Squall only recently joined his rival in that depressing category, though somehow it had still been the assumed case.

 

With an untainted view on the topic, Squall commented, “I bet he also said that you were all the family he'd ever need.”

 

The cogs began working in Rinoa's head, evident by the crinkle in her forehead as her face scrunched up. “How'd you know?” she asked at length.

 

Biting back a scathing remark, Squall actually shifted his left arm to pinch the bridge of his nose, but stopped when he realized he had a second duffel bag in hand. He was supposed to be in love with Rinoa, but spending his days with her attached to his arm was having the opposite effect.

 

He needed to set some boundaries before their relationship ended in disaster. A high priority for him was keeping this relationship afloat, because he could not stand to have his sorceress truly upset with him, and neither could the rest of the world.

 

Rinoa's eyes widened after a few moments, tugging excitedly on Squall's arm, she practically squealed with her revelation. “You and Seifer don't really hate each other do you? Were you guys like secretly really close friends? Did you tell each other stuff like that?”

 

Mentally, Squall ran the lines through his head. He couldn't outright tell Rinoa that Seifer had obviously lied, most likely to sleep with her. Then again, he didn't feel comfortable lying about the relationship he and Seifer had. They might be civil now that the traitorous knight had returned to Balamb Garden, but they'd never been friends. On the other hand, they'd also never hated one another. In fact, they'd been quite close.

 

But, Rinoa didn't see that. She saw the romantic and fantastic in everything. Her innocently oblivious nature was endearing to an extent, but when it encompassed the topic of his past, it surpassed its limits.

 

He didn't like remembering his past, let alone talking about it to others. If he had his choice, he'd have every single Guardian Force junctioned in order to receive that gratifying haze and blur in memories until he couldn't remember his own name.

 

Settling for a middle ground comment, Squall spoke with a shrug, “We made each other better fighters.” Their rivalry was not indicative of anything other than clashing personalities, but it ultimately did make them better fighters.

 

Slowing his stride, Squall reflected on the quality time he'd spent with Rinoa after less than a quarter mile. “How `bout I call for a ride?”

 

“Really?” Rinoa cried ecstatically, releasing the pale boy's arm and twirling around him, her blue knit garment flapping about.

 

Setting down the bags in hand, Squall shifted the backpack off one shoulder and swung it around to reach a front pocket.

 

“Oh let me call!” the brown eyed girl requested.

 

Bright grey eyes studied the cute young woman with suspicion for a moment. Reluctantly, he handed his cell phone over to excitedly grasping hands. His concerns were justified moments later, after Rinoa searched through the bank of numbers he had stored and waited for the call to go through.

 

“Hello Caroline, my name is Rinoa Heartily. My boyfriend, President Loire's son, was wondering if someone could come out to the old station and give us a lift to…”

 

Squall wanted to slap his forehead when she looked at him to supply her with the right words. “Presidential residence,” he muttered darkly.

 

“…the presidential residence,” she finished. There was a pause before she whirled back around to address the brunet. “Honey, where are we right now? She doesn't know what the old station is.”

 

Leather crunched as Squall balled his fists and tried to create some distraction for himself. “We're roughly one and three quarter miles out from the southwest sector, within visual range of Tarners Platform that leads to Fisherman's Horizon.”

 

Blinking her doe eyes, Rinoa smiled sweetly before holding the phone out for him to take care of.

 

With a sigh, Squall took the phone and repeated their location. Once he hung the phone up, he remained silent while staring vacantly at the ground. He pocketed the phone, realizing for the first time that the numbers he had stored could not accidentally fall into the wrong hands.

 

Lips pressed firmly together, Rinoa placed her hands on her hips and glared at the silent man. “Don't you dare close up on me Squall Leonhart. I was just having a little fun, that's what this trip is about.”

 

Squall gave a small nod. He wasn't closing up, just becoming increasingly annoyed. For the sake of their relationship, they needed to spend more time apart. She had her moments, when her sincere caring truly set him at ease. But those moments had been infrequent to begin with and he hadn't experienced one since the war ended.

 

It was a surprisingly short time before the sound of a car's engine drifted across the flat rocky plain. Turning away from the bright western sky, Squall saw the glinting windshield of a black BMW. He half expected the driver to be Laguna with the reckless manner of speed, seeming to swivel even while following a straight path. A dust trail kicked up behind it, begging another question of how Esthar managed to thrive in an area that must have begun as desolate plains of scorched rock.

 

Rinoa tensed up, slightly apprehension about the less than formal manner in which their ride approached. She jumped behind Squall and fearfully grabbed the back of his jacket when the car screeched to a halt only a few feet before them.

 

Squall stood, staring impassively towards the driver's side, unable to clearly see anyone behind the wheel. He waited for a moment, feeling eyes upon himself, before stooping to pick their bags up. On cue, the trunk was popped.

 

“Come on,” he spoke to a cowering young woman clinging to his back.

 

“What the hell was that?” Rinoa cried, loud enough for anyone in the car to hear.

 

With a shake of lengthy strands of chestnut hair, Squall stepped forward. He felt the release of his raven-haired girlfriend's grip. He also felt her rising discontent. It was the sort of headache that came as a sharp pang rather than the dull thud when she was trying to woe him into a certain course of action.

 

He stopped as he passed the back left door. With little effort, he held both duffle bags in one hand, careful to keep the baggage out of Rinoa's way. He reached out and opened to door for her, subtly gesturing for her to get in.

 

Rinoa's mood suddenly brightened, her stomach fluttering at Squall's gentlemanly gesture. Skipping forward, she round the car, pointedly not looking at anyone in the driver's seat, she pecked Squall on the lips before slipping inside.

 

As Squall shut the door behind Rinoa, the front driver's seat opened. The first thing Squall spied was the tip of an over polished dress shoe, followed by a leg clad in black slacks. The man who stepped from the car wore a black suite. Every aspect seemed to be consciously mannered to perfection. The white shirt beneath probably didn't have a single wrinkle and that tie probably never came loose.

 

Squall quickly studied the chiseled features of this man, whose eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. His eyes saw a strong nose that crooked ever so slightly at the bridge, a slightly squared jaw line that was smoothly shaven, and tanned skin. The postured stance he took suggested training, while the feel of calculating eyes upon himself confirmed it.

 

Before any introductions could be made, Squall stepped away and haphazardly loaded the empty trunk with the bags, which were only enough items to get Rinoa through the week. He'd brought a few changes of clothes as well, but his duffel bag was stuffed with Lionheart's case, leaving little room for much else.

 

Returning to stand before the unknown man dressed in black, he glanced upwards to meet the hidden gaze. The guy's build rivaled Raijin's, but fell miles short of the Vice President Ward Zabac. It was difficult to place age, as it usually was for anyone involved in the military or Garden. He was obviously built beneath that suit, but there were very faint streaks of grey hairs within precisely trimmed sideburns. The rest of the man's hair was sandy blonde, so it could be a misperception in the bright rays of light that caused him to squint a bit.

 

The young SeeD and former Commander stared without restraint, waiting to see the man's eyes. He refused to budge until he'd accomplished this much. The broad chest that puffed out as if in challenge did nothing to deter him. After Ultimecia, there weren't many people he found intimidating, at least not in the respect that they might physically harm him.

 

The palace guard smiled abruptly. Reaching up, he took off his glasses and tucked them inside his suit jacket. Once again locking his eyes onto the fierce and steady gaze of the Balamb Lion's steely irises, he extended a hand.

 

“James Cranston,” he introduced in a baritone and slightly gruff voice. At thirty-four, he'd been skeptical of this boy savior who'd called for a ride to daddy's place. However, there was no mistaking the intensity of those eyes, they practically shined within the light. He gave the kid props for not taking any shit.

 

With his gloves in place, Squall clasped the larger hand and said, “Squall Leonhart.” He stared up into dark brown eyes, so dark they were nearly black. He wished he could feel whether the man's hand was calloused or not.

 

As it turned out, Squall didn't need to search for any more clues. James Cranston spoke again. “I'm a palace guard, but I've been assigned the special detail of guarding you… and your girlfriend while you're here.”

 

The brunet's initial response was to protest, but then he considered a few extra aspects he hadn't considered. Rinoa was a sorceress. Being in Esthar could prove to hold a few issues that might call for the raven-haired girl's protection around the clock. He certainly couldn't guard her at every hour, he'd go insane and it was quite impossible to actually stay alert without sleep.

 

With a curt nod, Squall accepted this man for who he was and whatever such a position decreed.

 

Before their formally dressed guard could turn back to the car, Squall stopped him. “Mr. Cranston,” he said as he thought of an important factor.

 

“Yes?”

 

“You do know of Rinoa's powers, correct?” It was probably key for whoever watched over Rinoa to know that she was a sorceress.

 

“Indeed, that's why I'm here.” James' dark eyes scanned the boy before him.

 

Once in the car, Squall realized it was a mistake to sit upfront instead of next to Rinoa. She was sulking the entire way, only ever speaking when James introduced himself. While he received the silence he so enjoyed, it was overshadowed by the headache the raven-haired woman unknowingly gave him.

 

The drive was longer than Squall thought it was going to be. Probably because they drove through the city to reach the Laguna's ridiculously large residence, which was indeed more like a palace. They weren't headed to the Presidential residence, but rather the Presidential estate. If there was a difference in title it eluded Squall.

 

By the time the grandiose structured loomed above all other buildings, effectively covering any skyline visible from within the car, that is without looking straight up, Squall was rubbing his temples in a vain effort to assuage the drilling in his mind.

 

Rinoa was being silent, arms crossed and lips pouted in a sulking manner. It was a wonder that Quistis and all the pale brunet's other friends considered him to be the moody one.

 

Squall was rather surprised to see Dollet's architectural signature used, a rather foreign sight in such an isolated country. Considering it was President Loire's home, Squall figured that it had been built to his specifications and preferences, which would explain the outside influence.

 

Wrought iron gates opened to a long, curving drive. There were tall oak trees that gave a sense of privacy, if the fifteen-foot wall of cement surrounding the estate didn't give enough seclusion.

 

Considering his father had run the country for twenty years and helped foster the most prosperous nation in existence, it was no surprise that such a lavish place served as the President's home.

 

There was also the Presidential residence, which was where Laguna worked and where he'd been taken to when dealing the Lunatic Pandora. There was probably a summerhouse somewhere outside of the city, maybe an apartment in Deling City for old times' sake.

 

When James attempted to speak to Squall, the pain flared and Squall was forced to address the matter.

 

“Rinoa, perhaps we should visit Dr. Odine,” the steely-eyed young man suggested with a grimace against the newest level of annoyance his sorceress felt with him.

 

“What?” the brown-eyed woman cried incredulously. “Is that why you've brought me along? We already discussed this, I do not need to be poked and prodded. I'm not going to go mad and take over the world!”

 

“It's not the world I'm concerned about,” Squall mumbled in reply, hoping his sarcasm was hidden. “Your emotions are controlling your power. Every sorceress needs training, the sooner the better.”

 

Aghast at her boyfriend's words, she stared with her mouth agape. “I can't believe you! I come along with you because I know how much you need me here to support you, and all you can think of is sending me off to some lab. Whatever happened to the man who rescued me from that scientist in the first place?”

 

“Rinoa,” Squall placated with great effort. “Calm down. If you refuse outside help, then you need to learn on your own.”

 

“I never wanted this!” she yelled, tears brimming in her eyes. “I did it for you.”

 

Brows furrowed, Squall tried to recall when he'd been in need of her becoming a sorceress. It wasn't as though she'd turned into a better fighter, she had still sat on the sidelines.

 

“Do me this favor, as your knight,” he spoke softly, turning to regard her earnestly. “When you're not happy it hurts me, but I want you to be safe even when I'm not around. In this city especially, I want you to be capable of fully controlling yourself.” He felt like a blubbering idiot at the moment, but he would have gotten down on one knee and proposed, if only to rid himself of the sharpness of her jabbing tendrils of magic.

 

James coughed, pointedly making his presence known. All was not well in post war paradise, and he didn't need to be in the middle of it. The boy next to him was obviously not experienced with women, probably still growing peach fuzz.

 

Squall cast a quick glance towards the sandy blonde driver. “At least speak with Ellone, you like her well enough.”

 

“Oh yes, what girlfriend doesn't love to see her boyfriend's adoptive sister hanging all over him? She's nice, but you two seem awfully close considering you're brother and sister.”

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Squall sighed. This was going nowhere, just like his headache. “Your powers are giving me a headache Rinoa, you need to keep them under control. As your knight I can feel everything.”

 

“What?” she exclaimed, leaning forward and popping her head into the front seat.

 

“I didn't want you to feel bad, but please learn some control.”

 

“Stop the car!” she cried.

 

James looked for a confirmation on the order and slowed down upon receiving a small nod from a rather sickly looking boy. The young man's face had grown significantly paler, which couldn't have been healthy given that he was already considerably pale.

 

They were near the main entrance, not too far off. The car came to an abrupt stop, causing Rinoa to give a slight yelp at being jolted from her seat. In a blur of blue, she was out the door and stalking away. Her steps were faltered as she began going one way and then directed herself to head towards the mansion, apparently realizing she didn't know the city and would get lost after a block of walking.

 

Squall clutched his head, blinding pain causing his vision to go white as he scrunched his eyes shut and stifled a groan. Rinoa was angry, very angry, and with him.

 

Concerned, James turned towards the troubled President's son. “Sir,” he said as he reached out to examine the boy. “Are you alright?” Nothing appeared to be injured, no head wounds that would indicate why he was clutching his head in anguish.

 

“Fine,” Squall hissed out. “Go after Rinoa,” he managed to direct.

 

“With all due respect, I'm your guard, not hers.” When he'd spoken before, he'd represented only one part of the guard detail assigned. In all honesty, he'd seen the reluctance in the kid at having a personal bodyguard, and deftly conformed to the situation at the time.

 

Grey-blue eyes peered through squinting slits, searching the older man's face for a quick moment. “I'm fine here for a bit, show her to her rooms.” The pain eased off ever so slightly and Squall only prayed that Rinoa changed to a happier note soon.

 

“Miss Heartilly will have someone to watch over her while she stays in Esthar, I am not that person. Are you hurt?” James reiterated.

 

“No,” came the immediate reply along with the sound of the passenger side door clicking open. With staggering grace, Squall stood and closed the door behind himself. It was a mistake to bring Rinoa, he knew that now. She was still stubbornly in denial about what she was and about how easily it affected others, namely him.

 

Delicate and subtly effeminate features formed a struggling expression of someone trying to appear at ease under physical strain. Squall bit his bottom lip, sinking a canine deeply into the side of it, nearly piercing the soft flesh.

 

The trunk popped open, but James was hefting the bags out before the blanched brunet could get to them. He was surprised at the weight, never suspecting someone of the boy's stature and lithe frame to be able to swagger the load without hindrance.

 

Squall was hardly able to absorb the image of the structure in front of him. It must have been seven stories high, almost castle like in its vast size and appearance. Being so close he couldn't see the rooftop, only ornate designs and sculptures looming at the very edge. It was cold grey stone, rough slabs of brick forming the exterior. The main entrance was a long gentle sloping stoop of stairs that Squall took two at a time for the sake of feeling like he had taken a normal step upwards. Sculptured lions reclined on either side of the doorway, acting like guardians in place of gothic gargoyles.

 

A subtle smile graced Squall's face. He relaxed his expression slightly in order to better open his eyes and take in as much detail before moving beyond. James was a few steps ahead of him, walking right passed the solid wooden door that opened seemingly automatically.

 

A doorman, clad suspiciously like a butler, offered a hand in carrying the luggage. As an older man of average stature, he was given the lightest item.

 

With pepper grey hair that was trimmed short, the doorman grinned brightly with slightly crooked teeth. His light blue eyes were faded with a sum of years that Squall instinctively guess to be mid sixties or early seventies. The tail end to the man's old-fashioned suit seemed to characterize him as a piano player from decades ago or a butler from decades ago, either way it was slightly costume like and out of date.

 

Squall suppressed his urge to glare at his personal guard, no longer tolerant of being babysat now that he knew it was specifically for him. There was also the annoyance of being waited on. Though his brain was being jack hammered, he was perfectly capable of carrying the bags on his own.

 

The graying greeter extended a knobby knuckled hand, still grinning ear to ear.

 

Squall shook the man's hand, resigned to pleasantries while on a mission to please.

 

“I am Harold Portier, overseer of all staff here at President Loire's private estate. Welcome to Esthar, and may I be one of many to thank you for your valiant efforts. I am at your service, young master.”

 

“Squall Leonhart,” the brunet replied with a tense jaw. The pain was slowly receding, perhaps due to distance or a calming in the emotional sorceress' mood. It took him another moment to realize how he'd been addressed and exactly what Harold Portier's words had been. He wasn't overly humble, but he'd been hoping to be free of the constant references to his role in Ultimecia's defeat. “I was one of many who helped,” he spoke further. “And please, I'm not the young master of anything.”

 

Smiling impossibly wider, Harold gave the surprisingly small young man's hand another shake. The boy before him was nothing like he'd imagined the world's savior being. Shorter and about a hundred pounds lighter than he'd pictured, the President's son was even more pretty than the their long haired leader. With a series of nods, he agreed with the boy's modest words and polite request. “President Loire is detained until four, but he sends his regards and wishes for you to get settled.”

 

“Thank you Mr. Portier.” Squall cast a glance towards the expressionless blonde standing nearby. He straightened up to his full height, still falling short of Cranston, but feeling less like the injured dog he was being treated as. “I'll be fine to carry my own bags,” he commented.

 

“Nonsense,” Portier dismissed with incredulity. “Your young lady friend was quite enthused to go exploring.”

 

`Enthused?' Squall wonder with a feeling of disbelief. More like too upset to remain in the same vicinity as him. “Which way did she go?” he asked, peering around the expansive entry hall for the first time.

 

It was both alike and dissimilar to the outside. Black marble laid bare of rugs across the floor, polished to a gleaming shine, but cold nonetheless. The high ceiling opened to the second floor, which winding stairs curved up to. The stark white of the walls contrasted the dark marble and reflected the light of a single hanging chandelier.

 

Just as he'd feared, there were at least five different directions branching off from the room. Upstairs was an open corridor that led off to two ends. Down on the first floor, where he stood, he spied three doorways.

 

“I believe Miss Heartilly went upstairs in a huff of excitement sir. I'm not really sure which way. Natalie is with her though, no worries.”

 

“Who is Natalie?” Squall followed up in question.

 

James spoke up, “Your girlfriend's guard.” He kept watchful eyes on the brunet, searching for a reaction.

 

Squall debated for a moment. Rinoa's rampant magic was nearly gone, urging him not to pursue her and folly it up again. He did his best to listen to her and do what she asked of him, but he usually made her upset. It was becoming the most tiresome relationship he'd ever had to keep up. If he weren't her knight, he might have a chance of convincing Cid that General Caraway's support was not worth the consumption of his time upon the man's only daughter. However, he was her knight and Cid was quite pleased with the popularity his relationship with Rinoa received.

 

In the end, Squall shook his head, sending already mussed tresses into greater disarray. “Leave her then.”

 

James almost smiled. It might prove entertaining to watch the boy flounder pathetically in this relationship. He'd start a bet with the guys around the estate, to see just how long the President's son could keep his princess happy. Personally, after a brief but close observation, he'd place his money on three days tops. The pair didn't look good together anyway. It was a hopeless discrimination, but the President's son looked like he should be linking arms with another man, not a woman.

 

The estate was huge, considering it housed a single person. It seemed like a waste. Even for a large family housing several generations, there was far more room left over than would ever be utilized.

 

Laguna didn't usually stay in what Squall learned was officially titled the Loire Estate, which made the practical brunet think the entire existence of the mansion was pointless.

 

For all its stone cut exterior and initial appearance of marble, the estate was modern by Esthar standards, and Esthar standards were about fifty years ahead of everything else. It was a unique and rather interesting mesh of traditional and high tech. The doors were not automated as in Garden, and they seemed like simple wooden framed barriers. However, it was not wood or any metal, but some oddity that was interlaced with security systems.

 

Squall's private quarters locked and unlocked on a fingerprint scanner that was disguised as a simple doorknob. All of the rooms had such systems, but naturally a guest such as himself could control not all of them.

 

TBC…