Masquerade

Laguna Loire had been having a strange dream. He had been having it often, lately – not every night, but, certainly more than once a week. And, in this dream, Laguna found himself reliving a moment that never happened.

“Laguna,” a soft female voice spoke into his ear. A giggle. “Come on, Laguna. Wake up.”

The Estharian President made a low, innocent grumbling noise. “Don’t wanna’. Not yet. Five more minutes.”

“But,” the voice protested, “You have to.”

A whimper. “…Don’t wanna’…” he whined.

“Laguna Loire, get yourself out of this bed, right now!” the voice demanded, taking on a slightly huffy tone.

The familiarity of said tone caused Laguna to open his eyes, just a bit. As the blurs of his day’s first vision began to clear, the raven haired man bolted upright in his bed.

“R-Raine!?” he stuttered in shock. “What - ? How - ?” It seemed that, even in his sleep, the man knew that his wife should not be standing before him, wearing a regular sweater, the adorable headband, the wedding ring.

Raine simply smiled. “You have to wake up.”

“But,” he began, “I am awake, Raine.” The young woman shook her head. “I am. Why don’t you believe me?”

“He is waiting for you.”

Laguna blinked, suddenly even more confused. “Who is waiting for me?”

“Your angel has come.”

Before he could further question the statements of his deceased wife, Laguna looked down, and saw, rather than felt, the spasms beginning to wrack the muscles of his leg. He looked back up.

A flash of green.

And, then - .

Laguna never did get his explanation, for, time and again, he failed to stay asleep long enough to ask his final question. Consciousness always seemed to find him at the most inopportune of times.

It was still a mystery to the raven haired man, as far as just what had suddenly triggered these odd dreams – rather, the continued appearance of this one dream. For the first few months, Laguna had shifted his brain into overdrive, trying to find a reason. As it stood, the Estharian President had several working theories:

Sleep deprivation. Being the President of an entire country was quite a round-the-clock job. Had he not been getting quite enough rest? Well…

Kiros, having not seen his fearless leader for several hours, decided to check in on the man. As he gripped the door’s handle and turned the knob, the door slowly opened, to reveal…

…Laguna Loire… Asleep… And…

…Drooling…

He would have to have those morning reports reprinted. And, he laughed, to himself, a camera, to get a snap shot of his best friend’s ink stained face.

…Okay, so, maybe he was not suffering these dreams as a result of a lack of sleep. Therefore, perhaps being the President was not quite the twenty-four-seven position that he had thought. It was, however, a very stressful responsibility. Say, could it be that he was too serious about his job? He was quite the professional, was he not?

Kiros blinked. He just blinked. Several seconds passed, before the man found his voice. “Laguna?” he asked, calmly. “What is going on?”

“Hm?” Laguna asked, looking up at his friend. Kiros simply blinked, a few times more. At this, Laguna chanced a quick peek around his desk – neigh – around his entire office. Taking in the sight of twenty or so paper airplanes, the President felt a bit of heat rise to his cheeks. “Oh, that. I was, uhmm, bored?”

The dark skinned man shook his head. “I didn’t mean those,” he clarified, pointing toward Laguna.

Quirking a curious eyebrow, Laguna followed the direction of Kiros’s accusatory finger. He blinked, twice, as his gaze fell on a small bottle of a soap and water mixture, which he had found rolling around in the bottom drawer of his, ahem, work desk.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, hastily, the blush deepening. “I was just - !”

“Save it,” Kiros interrupted him, holding up a hand. “I already have a headache.” With that, he turned around, and headed back to the copy room. He had twenty or so pages of his friend’s morning reports to reprint.

Eh, well, that probably was not it, either. But, if not, what could it have been? What was causing Laguna to have such a bizarre, recurring dream? Something he ate - ? Well, no, he had not changed his diet, which still included whatever he could fit into his stomach. The season had not changed, recently; there was no pollen in the air. The anniversary of Raine’s death was still months away, Squall was not about to have a birthday, nor had he been to reminiscing of Winhill. None of it made sense. He doubted that it was just his imagination, and - . Wait a minute.

Who was He?

On this particular morning, these ideas were becoming somewhat of a constant distraction for the beloved Estharian leader. Not only were the dreams leaving him with so many unanswered questions, they were actually causing him to lose sleep. His nerves were, as Kiros had so delicately phrased it, shot to shit. Keeping his grip on a mug of coffee was becoming a chore, as his hands seemed to be trembling a bit more with the passing of each new day. The circles beneath his near-half-century-old eyes were ever darkening, the hollows of his cheeks seemed to be getting, well, even more hollow. And, when he peered into his bathroom mirror, the raven haired man swore that he saw a road map etched into his face. To sum it up, Laguna Loire was being done in by one stupid fucking dream.

With a low groan, the President dropped his head rather gracelessly onto the desk, resulting in a dull thud, and one very flat “Ow”. This whole situation was driving him positively insane. Hey, maybe, that was it? Was he going crazy? The idea seemed plausible. Of course, this notion was also taking for granted that he was ever actually “all there” to begin with.

“…Must be…” Laguna mumbled to the floor. “…No other reason…”

“Laguna?” Kiros inquired, upon entering his friend’s office.

“Kiros,” Laguna began, without raising his head. “Do you think it’s possible that I’m losing my mind?”

The dark skinned man blinked, once. “Well,” he sighed, as he stole a seat in one of the chairs opposite the President, “At your age, I guess that it could be a definite possibility.” A defeated whimper reached his ears, and Kiros smiled, albeit rather sadly. “Had that flash, again, did you?” He saw his friend nod, a little bit, forehead still firmly pressed against the solid wood surface. “Are you absolutely certain that you are getting enough sleep?”

“Kiros, you and I both know that I’m not lacking in that department.” The tone of Laguna’s voice took the other man by surprise. It sounded so… Empty. “I just don’t understand it. I mean, it’s not even a full dream, really. It’s just… Like…”

“…A flash,” Kiros repeated.

“…Yeah…”

Both men sat in several moments of heavy silence, both contemplating what was more or less to be considered the same thing. Kiros, who was nearly as confounded as his friend, had come to no concrete reasoning, himself. He had shared every possible idea with Laguna, every stray thought that had crossed his mind, concerning this ordeal. Well, every one, except - .

“I’m going crazy,” Laguna grumbled, annoyed.

Kiros cleared his throat, a tiny bit. “Old friend, you are not going insane.” Hoping that his words were reassuring to the other man, Kiros stood to his feet. “If you were,” he smiled, “Don’t you think that I would be running this country, for you?”

There was silence for several moments, before Laguna’s shoulders began to shake in light laughter. “You’ve got me, there.” Taking a deep breath, he raised his head, shaking fingers rubbing at weary eyes. “I’ll figure it out,” he said, through a yawn. “You’ll see.”

Already smiling lips curved upward a bit further. “I am confident that you will, Laguna. I really am.”

Green eyes met brown, and a grin spread across a normally happy-go-lucky face. “How about lunch?” Laguna piped up, already bouncing from his seat.

Kiros gave a chuckle. “Sounds good.”

“So? Where to? Leanna’s? I’ve been dying for her homemade chocolate cake all week long!”

The chuckle became a laugh. At least Laguna’s spirits were rising. “Of course. Of course!”

“Yes!” Laguna grabbed his jacket, out of what would seem to be an unnecessary habit, and headed for the door.

Catching sight of the jacket in his friend’s hands, Kiros quirked a curious eyebrow. Laguna only brought his jacket when he planned to be out all night. Once that thought registered in his brain, Kiros could not suppress a sigh. He had forgotten, momentarily, that the other part of Leanna’s that Laguna also greatly enjoyed was the bar.