What's Left Of Me

Author's Notes: Well, well, well . . . hopefully you all are still following this fic. Dreadfully sorry for the lack of updating. But, I'll save you the sob story and get right down to it so you can read what you really came here to read. :D

Lots of things to go over. For starters, we start out with a small scene with Irvine, which wasn't planned, but I felt fitting. There is no lemon in this chapter, but be warned of ridiculous amounts of fluff and angst and quite possibly some OOCness from all parties. Also, I've introduced Al Bhed into this chapter, and it will be used sporadically throughout the remainder of the fic. You see, I have a slight bit of an obsession with the Al Bhed, and I just couldn't restrain myself from keeping it out of this fic. I apologize ahead of time. There will be asterics at the bottom for the translations. FLASHBACKS!!! Okay, this is one of the two flashback chapters. You will probably notice that they are short and in some places disjointed. Be aware that I made them that way purposely. They are called FLASHbacks afterall.

There are no lyrics for this chapter. Fragments of Memeories is the music that is played in game during your duration at Winhill.

So, without any more delay, here we go! Chapter 6!

III

August 23rd

Irvine Kinneas cursed loudly as he tore through the halls of Balamb Garden with a fiery fierceness. He would be damned if the President of Esthar was going to set foot on the campus grounds again, much less to see Squall. The voices of people screaming at him to slow down, or asking him what was wrong never reached Irvine's ears, too overcast with unrequited love for his commander and the determination to see to it that Laguna Loire would never see him again.

He stopped, finally, just outside the library out of breath, catching his prey.

Irvine, with a sharp shot and a wicked tongue just as accurate, had had the flame of his resolve iced over from the downright murderous glare he received from the brunette soldier. He was completely frozen, having to settle with returning an equally lethal stare down. They maintained until Laguna had brushed by him, and Irvine had found his voice again.

"It's his birthday. You're probably the last person he wants to see." His voice was feral, barely louder than a predatory growl. It pleased him when Laguna stopped to recognize the hidden threat, and he was only a little shocked when he continued to the elevator. Irvine smirked as he felt his limbs altogether defrosted and he turned, heading in the opposite direction.

Maybe it was a good thing that he had let Laguna go. For one, he hadn't caused any harm, nor was he a victim. Still, he felt nauseous, his emotions only able to take so much obvious rejection.

He chalked it up to his motto in life, 'As long as Squall is happy, he'll be okay.'

III

July 5th

When Butterfly and Cowboy had dropped him off in the middle of a seamlessly endless green plain that surrounded a small, secluded village in the middle of nowhere, Squall couldn't help but wonder what he was getting himself into. He had given the duo a short wave before taking his first hesitant steps into the small civilization of Winhill. It wasn't long before his reached the town bluffs and began to get a better look at his destination.

White and brown houses and shops were laid out in a quaint design with an accent of different colored flowers. Dirty stone walkways led the way around Winhill.

It wasn't until Squall had passed the Flower Shop that he spotted Laguna, dressed down in light blue jeans (which Squall mentally noted that his ass looked very appealing in them), and a dark blue v-neck shirt hanging around outside what looked to be a pub. He smiled to himself as he continued walking. Laguna's hair was pulled back in a ponytail, his gorgeous eyes lost in what looked to be a dictionary of a different language. Even as Squall has continued his approach on the older man he hadn't budged, and it wasn't until he was practically on top of him reading over his shoulder that Laguna startled back to reality.

"Sorry," Squall apologized and scratched the back of his head with his free hand, the other one carrying his luggage. "What were you reading?"

Laguna's smile warmed him. "It's Al Bhed, an old language that was popular three hundred years ago. It was utilized mostly on the Centra Continent."

"Really?" Squall took the old, barely intact book and flipped through the pages. "Dra Al Bhed myhkiyka unekehydat vnus dra cyht baubma vnus yhleahd desac yht drah fyc ytybdat po dra Centra.*" Squall finished reading and handed the book back to Laguna. "It seems easy enough."

"You can hold onto it if you'd like." Laguna offered him the book back. "I'm already fluent in it. A perk of being the President is having a lot of down time to really touch on things you never thought you would."

Squall raised an eyebrow as he reached for the book. "Are you sure?" Laguna nodded and Squall tucked the book under his arm. "Thanks." he replied shyly. He felt awkward. He knew that he didn't see Laguna that much, but it felt much different than their last encounter just last week. He looked around for something to distracted him and keep the conversation going. "So is this where we're staying?" They turned and faced the building, Squall reading the hanging sign over the door, 'Raine's'

"Yeah. There's a hotel here, but I really wanted to stay here, if that's alright with you." Squall nodded, letting Laguna open the door for him before stepping through the threshold.

There wasn't anyone at the bar then, the tall wooden tables left barren with stools to match. White flowers decorated the otherwise dark cherry interior. Stained glass windows reflected peacefully on the glasses that hung from a rack on the ceiling over the bar.

Squall was caught staring in awe at his surroundings, Laguna chuckled softly as he watched him.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

Squall, looked at Laguna in the eyes for the first time since his arrival and gave him a sincere smile. "Nothing." He lied.

III

Laguna Loire was beyond furious, and that was possibly the most impossible task to accomplish. Laguna never got angry. He wasn't even this mad when Esthar had kidnapped Ellone nearly twenty years ago. His black hair bounced against his back in its normal ponytail in rhythm with each of his confident stomps through the Balamb Garden grounds.

His stiff posture went more rigid when he was greeted by the Balamb Lion's beloved cowboy, who quickly took the dangerous flash of scarlet that rarely came out from Laguna's docile green eyes as a sign to stay out of his way. It didn't stop Irvine from calling after him, though.

"It's his birthday. You're probably the last person he wants to see." he warned. Laguna stopped briefly, absorbing this before continuing to march to the commander's office.

Squall hadn't contacted him in nearly two months since their last vacation. No letters. No calls. Hyne, he hadn't even bothered to have someone deliver a message to him. Laguna had thought him a coward for this.

He waited for the elevator doors to open impatiently, pacing in small circles in front of the sliding barriers. He knew he had to calm down. It couldn't be good for his health to be this outraged. The president also knew that the issue needed to be addressed one way or another, and if his . . . no, he still couldn't call him that word . . . his irresponsible lover . . . or whatever status they were now, couldn't step up and face the facts of what reality was holding for them then he had to be the bigger man.

The doors finally opened and he stepped in. It was now or never, and he was going to be damned if this wasn't resolved, no matter what the outcome. He fingered over the sealed contents of the folder he held, more than ready to tear them up.

Above all else, even his fury, he was heartbroken. How was he supposed to know that an innocent trip with his boyfriend was going to turn into this?

The elevator chimed, announcing the arrival to the commander's chambers. Taking a deep breath Laguna and began his advance to the door, where he knew Commander Squall Leonheart resided most of his days. He ignored the receptionist when she asked if he had an appointment, and again when she tried to stop him with her feeble words.

The door was only feet away, this was it. He opened, shut, and locked the heavy door in one fluid swooshing sound.

Laguna's eyes fell on the shock of icy blues and he became glued. His anger was so extreme that his jaw became set, or maybe that was in fear of crying again. The manila folder in his hands began to tremble with every staggered breath he took.

Neither of them could find words, they just stared at the other, and suddenly the world seemed very, very wrong.

III

Laguna Loire awoke at the crack of dawn to the sound of bare feet patting along the wooden floor downstairs. Sleepily, he rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms over his head, working out the sleep that lingered through his body. He followed the sound of the footsteps carefully, finding Squall when he got the the foot of the stairs, pacing back and forth around the bar with his nose in the book he had given him. He stifled a chuckle when he heard the younger male sounding out each individual letter, getting used to the feeling of the sounds on his tongue. After a few minutes of watching his lover studying he cleared his throat, making the brunette jump. "Cunno, Kuut Sunhehk.*" he said with a smile.

Squall smiled back, folding a corner to the worn pages to mark his spot and setting the now closed book on the bar. "Good morning."

Laguna walked to him, cupped the commander's face delicately and kissed him sweetly.

III


Laguna watched Squall labor over the country bar sink carefully working the aged water spots from the once pristine glasses that he seemed fascinated with because he said that they seemed familiar to him, determined to restore them to their former glory. He handled each piece of crystal with the utmost of care, cradling the delicate objects tenderly. Laguna wondered if Squall had ever been told that his hands were beautiful.

He got lost in the thought of Squall's hands, battle-calloused and blood stained. How was it possible that someone with the ferocity of a lion had the heart of a lamb? Laguna daydreamed of Squall one day feeling comfortable enough to treat him with those wonderful hands the same way he massaged the glasses back to health.

The coolness of sprinkled water against his face broke him of his reverie. Shocked, Laguna eyes Squall in time for another small spray of wetness, preceded by a softly muttered battle cry, "Bam!" He blinked, dazed, confused, and very much amused by his lover's playfulness.

And then Squall giggled.

Laguna's head snapped fully turned to him now. Squall had his hands splayed out like a monster waiting for it's prey, droplets of water trailing down from his fingertips. A small, impish grin danced along his lips, which Laguna returned.

He remembered a boy of just year or two and his mother. Hyne if he didn't look like her too. Brown hair, unruly at best circumference his little face holding his eyes that shimmered like the ocean, unlike both his mother and father. He remembered the child splashing about an old bathtub, slapping the bath water just hard enough that he would get his father's white tee shirt speckled with the abroad droplets.

"Laguna?" Squall was almost nose to nose with him, smile still on his face, but concern written in his blue eyes. "Are you okay?"

Laguna chuckled to himself, shaking the fragment of memory from his head. "You just remind me of someone I used to know sometimes."

III

Squall sat firmly behind the barrier of his desk, his facial features barely showing more than a little shock. His insides, however, contorted to sickening knots at the mere sight of Laguna.

Neither of them spoke, only stared at the other, emotions rampant and apparent through the icy glares they shared.

He balled his fists as he stood, the black pen he had been using to fill out his regular military forms clutched tightly in his grasp. "Get out." he threatened, his tone even colder than his eyes. Squall trembled slightly when Laguna made a noise of disgust and advanced. His lion's courage dwindled away with every heart pounding step Laguna took toward him. When he stopped just on the other side of his desk, so did Squall's heart. Even now, after everything they had learned in Winhill months prior, Squall yearned to reach out and caress the stiff features from his face. For that he mentally cursed himself and his unbeating heart burned in turmoil.

Squall continued his signature glare before Laguna handed him a manila envelope.

"It's all here." His voice was hard and authoritive, unlike the carefree, love for life tone his usually had about him. Squall inwardly flinched as he continued. "All the proof you should need." Laguna paused, stumbling for words. Squall could feel his spine stiffening more as he pressed on. "There are DNA tests too, and, there is no denying that you are my-"

Squall cut him off, snatching the envelope from his hand. For a split second their skin brushed and he retreated as though he had been stung. His heart flared up again, forcing him to blink back the agony it brought with it. He tore off the sealed flap, tossing it aside. Within was exactly was Laguna had said would be there. Disregarding the other valuable documents, Squall thumbed to his only interest, the DNA test.

For months he denied, avoided, and tried to forget what Raine's diary had revealed. He went through the emotional cycle equivalent to that of grief. He cried for the first time in years from a broken heart. There were nights and sunrises where he was spared any ounce of sleep, and even though it was the dead of summer, he shivered from the chill of emptiness. It was crazy, and downright illogical, but he fell in love with a man who had been no more than a dream.

But there it was in factual black and white, and you just can't win against the real thing.

That was the breaking point for the Balamb Lion. He grit his teeth and held his breath, fighting a losing battle with the hot tears that boiled from his shut eyes. The pen in his fist dropped, forgotten on the floor next to the torn off envelope seal as he admitted defeat in front of his father.

III

Squall Leonheart was so wrapped up in the Al Bhed dictionary again that he didn't hear Laguna talking to him until the man was practically crawling on top of him.

"Now I see why they made you Commander." he said, smiling. "You were very studious weren't you?"

Squall offered him a small turn of the corner of his lips. "Still am."

"Well, would you mind stopping long enough to come for a little exploration with me?"

Squall looked at him skeptically. "What kind of exploration?"

"Ohhh . . . you'll see." Laguna purred at him.

With such an alluring look such as the one on Laguna's face at that moment and kisses like the ones that said man was placing strategically along his exposed collarbone and neckline, there was no way he could say no. He again folded the corner of the page down to mark his place and set the book down on the bar.

It was really the first time they had been outside of the bar since they arrived two days previous. The weather was beautiful! The wind was soft, not unlike velvet, against his skin. The sun was just hitting high noon status, the town, quiet.

Squall swayed his head in Laguna's direction when he felt fingertips intertwine with his own. He tightened his grip, giving him the reassurance he was looking for."

Laguna stopped them in front of a broken down building just a few structures away from the bar. At first glance he couldn't fathom why this place could mean so much to the older man, though as he continued to lead him through the threshold he began to understand. Old war magazines littered the floor next to a beaten up old bed that looked like it hadn't been occupied in years. Photographs of a Laguna that showed just how much he had aged were hung up around the a the tattered walls, one in particular standing out to Squall.

It was a picture of Laguna and pretty woman with long brown hair holding a infant baby. They smiled down at their bundle of joy, and, though the baby was still so very small, Squall could see that the child was smiling back at them. He turned to Laguna, who had previously released his hand and had wandered over to a cracked -down-the-center bookshelf, that ironically only contained one book.

Laguna turned to him now, book in hand. "This is where I was nursed back to health. The woman in the picture is my late wife, and the baby is our son." he explained.

Squall studied the picture for a moment longer, taking in the lively features that were once Laguna, and the kind-looking woman poised next to him before he responded. "What happened to your son?"

Laguna hung his head a little, sadness reaching his normally delighted eyes. "I don't know."

III


Laguna Loire felt useless. How was he supposed to comfort his son, his lover, Squall, whatever, when he couldn't even begin healing himself. He debated, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, whether he should just leave him alone, but he knew better. He knew Squall, more so than he ever imagined ever knowing him, and he knew that Squall wanted this, wanted him to see his physical pain. Tentatively, Laguna stepped around the desk, stopping just at the corner and held out an arm to him.

Which stung him more, he'll never be able to decipher. Squall smacked him away, hard, only to fling his arms around him seconds later and poured all of his raw tears onto his chest, all the while pounding his shoulder. Laguna choked down a sob of his own, biting his lip, and buried his free hand into Squall's beautiful mess of hair and clung to him.

"Squall . . ."

"No!" Laguna felt the force of the shove before he saw it. His back hit the wall with such a jolt that air had completely escaped him. Suddenly Squall in his face, his blue eyes swimming in bluer waters that were raging down his anguished features. "You can't fix this, president." Laguna visibly flinched back against the wall at the pure venom in his son's voice. "There is absolutely nothing in the world that can fix what you did! NOTHING!!!"

Laguna felt the anger that he held before stepping into the commander's office rising to the surface and shoved Squall back from him, standing up off the wall that was steadying him. "It's not like I knew! I didn't go into this thinking 'Mmmm, I'm gonna get my son in between the sheets and then fuck with his head, Squall!"

"Stop! Stop saying my name!" Squall screamed back.

Laguna scowled back at him, slowly advancing on the Balamb Lion. "What? You would prefer me to call you 'Son'?"

The unexpected blush crept up on them both, filling their already furiously flush faces, now only inches from the others'.

Laguna caught Squall's chin as he tried to turn his face from him and studied his eyes. He clutched it tighter and shook his head of everything but what was right in front of him. (24) Squall's lips parted ever just slightly. Laguna moved his hand from his chin, using both of his hands to cup his lover's face. "I'm so going to hell for this," he sobbed.

Laguna dove into his lips as though it was the last thing this life was ever going to offer his sinful soul.

III

It took Laguna Loire's eyes fifty plus times to read the entry for his brain to process the information in his late wife, Raine's, diary. He poured over it, again and again, expecting it to just magically change or vanish or . . . just not say what it did.

In a room full of silence all he could hear was his head screaming.

His eyes shot up at Squall, who was examining every little misplaced sliver of splintered wood with an odd fascination. Laguna just stared, picking out his features. He had his hair line, though it was the same color as Raine's. His jaw line was his as well, and his lips, oh Hyne he had had those lips between his own, wrapped around his cock in selfish pleasure, were feminine like his mothers. His handshipssmile were Raine's.

Squall, probably sensing Laguna's overbearing gaze on him finally turned, and Laguna almost cried when their eyes met. Blue eyes, the same ones that smiled at him as he was bathed, the same ones that looked up at Laguna when he had taken him to Galbadia to see the Christmas lights in the snow with such adoration were staring back at him. The boy he had come to fall in love with, the man that never knew his parents . . . oh, Hyne, was his son.

Everything clicked, and it made perfect sense in an imperfect world.

"Laguna?" Squall was knelt down in front of him, his hands reaching for his own.

He snapped. He shoved Raine's diary into Squall's hands, standing from the couch remains silently. He watched in horror as the information was absorbed from the ink stained paper and into Squall's head.

It all happened to quickly. The diary hit the floor solid and Squall was screaming.

"No! It's not true! Tell me you're just fucking around! Tell me!"

But he couldn't, and he knew Squall knew that. All he did was stare at him.

The pain from his jaw connecting with his lover's fist was a pin prick compared to everything else he was feeling at that moment.

Laguna heard the footsteps before he knew Squall was running away from him. He felt the wind hit his face, cold from the tears he was shedding.

But he was gone. His lover, his son, his Squall, was gone. His knees hit the dusty gravel and he bit his bottom lip to keep his sobbing in check.

What had he done?

III

Squall Leonheart was surprised when the wave of nausea never came after Laguna had relinquished his hold on him. He licked his lips, tasting the remnants of Laguna and he felt his insides spark in delight. In desperation, or maybe defeat, he laid his forehead against Laguna's. "What the hell are we supposed to do?"

"It's a sin. It's immoral. We shouldn't . . . we can't continue this." Laguna's hands came to rest on his shoulders as he sighed.

Squall felt himself losing. "You're right." He agreed, probably despite himself.

"Damn it all!" Laguna cursed under his breath. "Please, Squall, don't make me break your heart. Just tell me to leave, and I'll never come back, I promise."

Faltering, Squall stood straight. He turned his back to him, his teeth clenched from anger, heartbreak, he didn't know. He spun toward him again. "Coward. You came here to relieve your own guilt? Is that really what you really want?"

Laguna was in his face again. "Of course it's not! But I can't change DNA, Squall! It doesn't work that way!"

"And you don't think I know that!" Squall spat back. "I'd sooner choose to forget the whole Winhill incident happened than have to spend any more time away from you!" The words flew from his mouth before he could clap his hand over his mouth. Oh, Hyne . . .

For the first time since Laguna had arrived his office was flat line silent. Their gazes cinched each other and Squall shifted irritably.

Then softly, "I don't care how, but I want to be with you." Squall whispered.

It was probably the most romantic thing Squall had seen, much less experienced, when Laguna took his hands in his and whispered in his ear. "Drah ryja sa. Rybbo Pendrtyo*."

III

*"The Al Bhed language originated from the sand people from ancient times and then was adapted by the Centra."

*"Sorry, Good Morning."

*"Then have me. Happy Birthday."