Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Living with Heart ❯ Living with Heart ( Chapter 18 )

Living with Heart

Act XVII

Rushed foot steps sounded, the quick succession of clicking thuds echoing through the empty hall. Zell was running back to his dorm room, arms hugging a large brown bag. Charged with the assignment of bringing everyone dinner, he'd carried his mission out with the utmost care. However, he hurried to return after chancing to glance up at the right moment and witness Squall walking past the cafeteria's entrance, suspiciously not headed towards the training center.

Finally making it back, he knocked on his own door and anxiously hopped from foot to foot.

“Doors open!” Selphie cried from within.

“What!” Zell raged, thumbing the button to open the door harshly. “Is that your sense of security?” he cried in protest.

“Zell, keep your voice down. Hyne, do you want the whole dormitory to hear you talking like that?” Selphie reprimanded.

“You couldn't at least lock it? What if someone just walked right in?”

“Don't kid yourself, no one's going to visit you,” Irvine drawled with a playful smirk. “Besides, it's suspicious if you're standing outside of your own room waiting to be let in. Next time, don't be so obvious.”

Zell's gait immediately lost its usual bounce. Aside from his short temper, he was especially susceptible to remarks about being a loud mouth. It had never really mattered much until his slip up on the mission in Timber. Now it was like an open wound. “Jerk,” he muttered, all but chucking the foil wrapped sandwich at the gunman's head after taking it out of the bag.

“Irvy, play nice,” Selphie chastised, grinning merrily when her own meal was gently offered to her.

“You guys, let's focus,” Quistis said, trying to capture everyone's attention.

“Oh!” Zell exclaimed, energy flowing once more. “I saw Squall!”

“What?” Quistis questioned with a look of worried concern. “When? Where?” she quickly followed up, trying to remain calm about it. It didn't help them in figuring out what was going on if things started to change all of a sudden. Squall being back was normal in a sense, and normalcy could threaten to cover everything up.

“He was just walking by, near the fountain. I only saw him for a second. I was in line getting the grub,” the spiky haired boxer answered as best he could without fidgeting under the piercing gaze of crystal blue eyes.

“He didn't say hi?” Selphie questioned with a pout.

“I doubt he saw me,” Zell explained. “It really was only for a moment, but I swear it was him. I might have been running on an empty stomach, but I didn't even hallucinate after ten days without hot dogs during Irvine's bet.”

Arms crossing and brows furrowing in thought, the Head Instructor tried to conceive a scenario where Squall might return after such adamant proclamations of not doing so. “Did you see where he was going?” she questioned further, slipping into interrogation mode despite speaking to Zell.

“The infirmary, maybe,” Zell offered uncertainly.

“Was he hurt?” Irvine drawled with a note of concern.

“Not that I could tell, but he was walking that way. He could have gone anywhere really, but all I remember is thinking that it was weird to see him not heading to the training center for once.”

“That is weird,” Selphie commented in support of the boxer's observation.

Sandwich untouched, Irvine sat up from his relaxed position on the couch. Turning his focus to the levelheaded blonde instructor, he suggested, “Perhaps we should go straight to the source. It's likely he'll be more talkative if we tell him we know something's up.”

Shaking her head, Quistis returned, “I don't think so. Squall can be terribly stubborn about personal matters. I can almost guarantee that he'll just give us the silent treatment all night.”

“We could follow him,” Selphie suggested, already excited to volunteer for the job.

------

Pining and wallowing in his own world of lonely misery, Laguna returned to the Estate despite the obvious reminder its vacant halls held. Sluggishly dragging his feet along the marble flooring, not caring how childish he was being, he slowly made his way towards Squall's quarters.

Silently following as always, Thomas simply watched with a mixture of pity and concern.

Eyes fixed on the clean white floor, occasional squares of green marble coming into view every few steps or so, Laguna became lost three times before his guard took the lead and brought him to his son's rooms without having to question where he'd originally intended to go.

After a long day of mind numbing reading and ulcer inducing worry, he was ready to collapse on any surface remotely resembling a mattress and just sleep. Eventually managing to at least take his shoes and tie off, he crawled into the neatly made bed. Left as it was upon his orders, it still appeared as though Mr. Portier had sent someone to remake it. However, he knew that wasn't true when he inhaled the sandalwood scent that lingered on the pillow. He imagined that while the bedding was unused from Squall's last night, that the boy's head has rested on the pillows enough to leave a faint scent.

Closing his eyes with a soft groan, he lay motionless in the bed that was too large for just him and cold without Squall's body pressed close. He needed Squall, and while the boy was no longer at his side he felt lifeless. The special lattes he used to live for every morning he arrived at the office were suddenly miles away from being a highlight in his life. The extravagant meals, the new releases of his favorite comic books, movie nights with Ward and Kiros, poker with his secretary when she promised not to tell anyone he was slacking—none of it seemed the least bit appealing when it used to keep a perpetual smile on his face.

As a man, he was hopelessly in love and in need of the holder of his affection. As the President, he couldn't let it affect his job or cause him to send an army to Balamb Garden to bring Squall back. Lucky for him, Kiros and Ward were by his side to make sure he didn't do anything out of blind love.

It hadn't even been a whole twenty-four hours, yet he felt like he'd spent the last five years in a pathetic depression. Somehow, it was easier to not see Squall for the past couple days when he'd known the boy was relatively close by, at least on the same continent.

Laguna wanted to cry. He'd felt on the verge of tears several times throughout the day, but every time he'd picture Squall's cute scowling face and terse words of reprimand for crying too much. He'd sell his soul just to hear the brunet call his name out during orgasm one more time. It was such a beautiful sound, his name spilling from plush lips during such an intimate and unguarded moment.

“Squall,” the raven-haired man called out, his voice muffled by the pillow pressed against his face.

“Mr. President,” came the distant call from outside the bedroom.

Sitting up, Laguna glanced toward the door. “What is it?”

“There is a phone call for you sir. It's the knight Almasy,” Thomas informed, obediently waiting for a response.

Blinking and staring for a few moments, Laguna nearly fell flat on his face in the scramble to hop of the bed and get to the phone.

“Hello?” the President greeted frantically after snatching the cell phone from his guard's proffering hand.

“Well don't you sound needy?” the ex-knight's deep voice lilted on the other end.

“This is about Squall, isn't it? What do you know? Is he okay?” Laguna questioned as he began to pace, eyes glancing up at the sound of the door shutting.

There was a heavy sigh on Seifer's end. “I was afraid a man of your age would have a heart attack stressing over it, so I wanted to call. Leonhart is fine.”

“Is he there? Can I talk him?”

“No,” Seifer stated, not clarifying which question his answer went to. “Don't do something stupid like declaring war. I got your man James here and we'll have your son back in your bed soon enough.”

“What's going on?” Laguna pressed earnestly.

Completely ignoring the question, Seifer congratulated the older man. “Congrats by the way. I wasn't sure how someone like you would stand against Leonhart, but I'm glad you listened to my advice.”

Tripping over his own feet, Laguna met the floor with a thud. Cursing, he looked around for the phone he'd dropped. Nerves shot, he attempted to pick it up four times before succeeding. “Are you still there?” he questioned firstly.

“Uh, yeah,” Seifer replied, not sure if he'd make the man cry if he burst out laughing. Somehow he was slightly miffed that Squally-boy fell in love with such a bumbling klutz and never once looked at him with a flicker of anything deeper than lust.

“Sorry, I dropped the phone. What'd you say about advice?”

“Never mind,” the blond said, feeling as though the fun was suddenly taken from the conversation when the President was so completely consumed by humor's number one killer—worry.

“He's definitely okay?” Laguna questioned as he shifted to sit more steadily on the carpeted floor.

“A little depressed, but it's hard to tell the difference.”

“What's going on? He left without telling me. Why is he back at Garden? What is Cid making him do?” The last question was issued in a near growl, a tone of anger most unbecoming for the Estharian President.

“Nothing illicit,” Seifer offered reasonably. “I won't get into details, that's not my job. This is just a courtesy call.”

“Fuck your courtesy call!” Laguna raged, losing all consideration for the fact that Seifer seemed to be on his side. “I want to talk to him, just let me hear his voice.”

Gruffly laughing, Seifer kindly informed, “I'm not in Balamb, but if you like, I could make the two hour trip back just so you can say a few words.”

Eyes scrunched shut as he swallowed what anger had arisen, Laguna apologized, “No, I'm sorry. I'm just upset, I didn't mean to yell.”

“If you can manage not to run that country of yours into the ground, then I can manage to return the playboy bunny.”

“Can you tell me why he's there? Is there anything I can do?”

“It's just a little blackmail, no biggie,” Seifer assured, his confidence perhaps having the opposite effect.

“Blackmail?” Laguna exclaimed, wondering how that worked when commonsense seemed to settle the use of blackmail in Squall's favor.

“Ah shit,” Seifer's voice sounded, slightly distant as if away from the phone. “Listen Loire, I gotta go or I'll miss my train. If I get a chance, I'll have the bunny give you a call.”

Before Laguna could reply or ask any more questions, the other end went dead with a click. Sighing in frustration, he fought the urge to throw the phone across the room. Snapping it shut, he debated keeping it with him, but determined that it wasn't his phone and returned it to a slightly surprised guard just outside the door.

------

“He looks so lonely,” Selphie murmured. Bright green eyes peered over the edge of the fountain, gazing across shallow pool of rippling water.

A safe distance away with pouring water to mask any noise, Irvine and Selphie crouched low and watched as their former Commander sat on a stone bench and stared intently at a cell phone. It had been like that for the past ten minutes. Squall was just sitting and staring, not making any attempt at the call he obviously wanted to make. Weirder yet was that this was the first time they'd been able to catch sight of him. It was to their ultimate shock that Squall had exited from Seifer's quarters after an entire day of making no appearance.

“Who do you think he wants to call?” Irvine wondered aloud, knowingly reading the lovesick expression even from such a distance. If the slightly uneven steps they'd seen the young man take earlier were any indication, then he'd say Squall was also drunk, which might explain why Lionheart was nowhere to be seen and why the training center was off limits.

With the tip of her tongue sticking out as the cogs spun in her head, Selphie suggested, “Rinoa maybe. Quisty told me that when a knight gives up his bond he becomes super sad and will do almost anything to get his sorceress back.”

“Then why doesn't he call?” Irvine returned, not quite believing that Rinoa was the face swimming in Squall's head at the moment.

“I dunno,” Selphie supplied. “He was in Seifer's apartment, right? Maybe he doesn't want to get in Seifer's way. He'd be like a hypocrite or something if he asked for her back.”

“If it was about not being a knight anymore, then Quistis would have brought it up earlier. I don't think that's it Darlin'. I think it might be President Loire.” From the disturbingly intimate hug they'd seen, to Quistis' recounting of how Squall wanted to stay in Esthar with Laguna. It seemed to fit despite his senses screaming that Squall was thinking about a lover.

“Sir Laguna?” Selphie inquired with uncertainty. “If it's his dad, then why not just call?”

“Isn't it the middle of the workday in Esthar? President Loire is a busy man, and you know Squall. He'll sit there for another eight hours until it's most convenient for the President.”

Whimpering quietly, Selphie's hands grasped the outer edge of the fountain. Squirming in place, she declared, “I wanna give him a hug, a great big one.”

“Darlin',” Irvine drawled in warning, a hand reaching out to grasp his little lady's arm. “We're on a stake out, not a cheer mission.”

“But Irvy, he looks so sad. I can't just stay here and watch while he's about to cry.”

“He's not about to cry,” Irvine assured, willing to bet Exeter on it. The Ice Prince couldn't cry because it was impossible to shed tears that were frozen. Then again, the Ice Prince also never drank to escape reality or stared at a phone with pining indecision. He might just have to bet something less valuable than his most cherished weapon.

“Duck,” Selphie hissed, silently shuffling to flatten below the three-foot high rim.

Violet eyes had enough time to catch sight of a red sweater vest before losing all visual. Though not speaking aloud, he met Selphie's gaze and they both seemed to share a moment to question why the Headmaster was walking around that part of Garden at such an hour. It wasn't necessarily late, but `lights out' was at nine and Cid Kramer made a habit of enforcing rules by following them. Odder still was that the Headmaster's quarters were stationed in a completely different area and there was no reason for the man to be wandering towards the boys' dormitory.

For Irvine and Selphie, it was obvious that the Headmaster was there to see Squall, but they still hadn't a clue why.

Once certain that the older man was indeed headed towards Squall, they resumed their positions and watched the scene unfold. It occurred to Selphie, after she watched Squall quickly pocket the cell phone and turn to intercept Cid's approach, that it might be nice to hear the words exchanged.

Motioning to the gunman, the copper-haired woman slowly took crouching steps in her suede boots and sidled along the circumference of the fountain to edge closer to Squall. Being that they were nearly on the opposite side, it was a given that they'd miss part of what was being said.

Violet eyes darted back and forth between Squall and Cid. With the pale brunet's back to them, he couldn't reach any emotion, but the stiff nature of narrow shoulders told him a lot. He was perceptive in reading emotions, or the lack thereof in the people such as Squall. The Headmaster seemed torn about something, lips pressed together with unspoken words and brows drawn in mild anguish.

Before they could meet their marker, the elevated voice of Squall reached their ears. It was as Cid reached out and the former Commander reacted rather violently, smacking the Headmaster's hand away and declaring, “Don't touch me!”

Selphie stopped her edging movements, awing at such an extreme reaction. It was beyond rare to see Squall that angry even with Seifer.

“Keep going Darlin',” Irvine urged, nudging the small woman in the side.

Slowly, the muttered words became distinct and clear enough to be deciphered over the sound of pouring water. Unfortunately, it was a trade off of audio and video. At an adjacent bench to the one that Cid and Squall stood before, the edge of the fountain rose higher and they just couldn't risk being seen.

“Squall, it has to be this way,” the Headmaster placated.

“No, it doesn't,” Squall hissed in return.

“I'd be a fool to have it any other way, you know that,” the older man reasoned.

Scoffing, Squall's icy voice questioned with lacing malice, “Are you seeking my forgiveness?”

“I could never ask for that, no matter how much I want it. I'm asking for your cooperation. You've been here for more than a day and people are already starting to talk. I don't want trouble. If you don't want to work as SeeD, that's fine, but don't go around acting like some prisoner that's kept in his room all day.”

There was a long pause before the Headmaster spoke again. “Don't give me that look. I know what I've done, but don't blame everything on me. If you'd refused at any time, I would have listened.”

“I'm not so pathetic as to dwell on the past,” Squall returned in a low tone, dangerously cold.

“Then why are you so miserable here? Is it so terrible to settle down as a normal SeeD or have you secretly enjoyed the way things were? If that's the case, I have a stack of requests a mile high.”

The sound of Squall laughing was unexpected as much as it was disturbing. The laughter was more like a hollow echo the filtered through the entire center quad. It sent a child down Selphie's spine and caused Irvine to swallow reflexively, hand itching to grasp his gun.

“Goodnight Cid,” Squall murmured, his footsteps informing the spying duo of the Balamb Lion's departure.

“Wait,” the Headmaster ordered firmly. “Xu told me you've been staying in Seifer's room. He's been missing since yesterday, right after you arrived. If you're planning something, I'll warn you right now that it won't just be Quistis and the others that will find out the truth. The media catching wind won't harm my institution, only strengthen it with the effort that went behind the attempt to correct you.”

“You say that as though what you have to show others is the actual truth. Don't delude yourself Cid, you might actually start to believe the lies.”

“As far as anyone other than you is concerned, the files I have are the truth Squall. Be careful how far you push me, you'll find I'm not a tolerant man.”

“Seifer went to see Rinoa in Timber, call her if you'd like to verify that. He let me take his room because mine is empty,” the words were forced, as if Squall didn't want to be giving excuses because it meant being compliant and answering the Headmaster's questions.

“And you went to Seifer of all people?” Cid questioned, trying to sniff out any lies.

“We're closer than you think,” Squall supplied. “He'll be back tomorrow. I'll be staying in my own room then.”

“I'd like you to make an appearance at breakfast, eat with the other instructors and kill off all rumors. Also, try to stick to your normal routine. Go to the training center and act a little happy about being back.”

“Act, huh? I'm good at that.”

“Indeed,” the Headmaster agreed darkly.

“Are we done?” Squall muttered with contempt.

“For now,” Cid returned.

There was a long moment of silence where Irvine half wondered if Squall had left. However, the Ice Prince's voice sounded once again in a reiterated hiss, “I said don't touch me!”

“You're being unreasonable,” the Headmaster reprimanded.

“And you're being unfaithful,” the younger man returned.

“I've never dared to do anything to you. Why do you act as though my touch brings death?”

“It's in your eyes Cid. Don't start looking at me like that now.”

“I look at you the same as always. Perhaps it's my disappointment in what you've done.”

With a dry scoff, Squall spoke sardonically, “And I suppose it was also disappointment I saw in Norg's eyes.”

Selphie jumped at the sound of hard knuckles echoing a harsh slap. She felt like crying. She was so confused. The Headmaster was acting mean and so was Squall. She wanted to run out there and stop it, but she couldn't. There were so many implications in what they'd heard and so many ways to construe it all, yet none of it made any sense.

Irvine was in awe at the dry laughter that issued from Squall once more. To think Cid had hit Squall and that Squall had allowed it. No amount of alcohol could inebriate the former Commander's reflexes that much, which meant the action had made its mark with the help of both men.

“Don't you dare compare me to that creature. I raised you, always kept you safe. I'm not perfect and there were times when you did get hurt, but I've never laid a hand on you.”

“So why start now?” Squall questioned evenly, his voice dead.

“You've always followed orders without any insubordination. What happened in Esthar to make you this way?”

“You took Shiva away, that's what happened.”

“Then you remember everything?” Cid remarked in disbelief. “I knew the memory suppression wasn't permanent, but I didn't think it'd come back so quickly. I'm sorry Squall.”

“Whatever.”

“Wait, Squall!” Cid called out, his voice almost desperate. “Come with me, we can have Shiva junctioned again.”

“No,” Squall turned down flatly.

“Don't walk away from me.”

“I'm going to bed. Stop stalling. If you want a bedmate, call Edea.”

The silence that followed had an air of finality.

Selphie scrunched her eyes closed and willed Cid to backtrack and not stumble upon her and Irvine. At the sound of the Headmaster's retreating footsteps, she opened her eyes and glanced at a blanched gunman.

“Do you think they're gone?” Selphie questioned, her voice barely a whisper.

“I've got a bad feeling about all this Darlin',” Irvine murmured in reply. “Let's go wake Quistis. This might be more serious than we thought.”

“What was all that about?” the copper-haired woman muttered to herself. “I've never seen Squall or Cid to act like that. They were angry at each other.” With a sniff, she swiped a frustrated hand over her eyes. The sudden realization that her happy world in Garden was hardly a paradise hurt. She felt like everything had just shattered, as though she'd been fooled into believing what wasn't real.

“Hey,” the gunman cooed, gently wrapping an arm around the small woman. “It's okay,” he soothed, consoling the tearful bundle that held no trace of cheerful energy.

TBC…