Chapter 19 - Dreams are made of this

By The Wandering Englishman

"Seifer...why are you doing this?" The brunette asked as he was pushed down the damp stone hallway. He looked up at the silent blonde who was wearing the strangest look on his face: one of anger and sadness at the same time. Maybe Seifer too was a prisoner?

Squall looked back down, watching as rats scuttled into their holes trying to avoid the light as they reached a set of stairs obviously leading back to the ballroom. As both men walked up, Squall could feel the air drying; the mildewy smell fading replaced by the scent of ozone.

Reaching out for the handle as they reached the door, Squall was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Squall..." The quiet warning came, as the green-eyed SeeD looked down at his lover. The brunette looked up, noting the hurt in Seifer's eyes as something was thrust into his hand. Squall twisted it in his hand trying to get a better grip, recognising the familiar feel of the shaped-leather handle of the weapon.


"I don't understand."

Seifer stood there, gazing at the pretty man solemnly.

"She's waiting, Leonhart. Don't be late."

The blonde turned and walked away, not looking back at Squall as the brunette opened the door into the darkened hall, closing the door behind him. Seifer sighed, lowering his head.

He didn't wish what was about to happen on anyone.

There was nowhere to run. He didn't know where he'd made the wrong turn, but now faced with a brick wall, it didn't matter. There was no escape.

"Laguna, where have you led us?"

The president gave a frustrated growl, glaring at his tall companion before softening his look. A small tugging on his hair in vies for Laguna's attention making him smile almost sadly. Pulling Ien from his shoulder to look at him, the 3-year-old smiled.

"Are we lost, Pa'Guna?"

"No, Kiddo, just misplaced." He replied with force cheerfulness. Deep down in his heart, Laguna hoped that the boy would not have to see either of the older men die. Every child has the right for its last memory to be a happy one; wishing Squall had one ounce of compassion left to kill his son first.

"So what now?" The lanky man asked, hands absently running over the handles of the katal at his side. Laguna placed Ien on the ground, not surprised when the small arms wrapped around his leg, his bright blue eyes staring at the end of the alleyway.

"Now, old man, you die." The heartless voice of his son: his lover.

Kiros sprang into action, pulling the blades from their sheathes and running towards the black-clad man in front of him. Squall snapped his head to gaze at the dark-skinned man, lifting his hand up and hitting him with a crackly of energy from a nondescript spell.

Kiros hit the wall with a thud, sliding down the brickwork unconscious. Ien screamed.

"Daddy, why are you doing this?" the small boy cried out, letting go of Laguna to glare at the bemused figure before them.

Laguna dropped to his knees next to Ien, trying to pull his grandson closer to him.

"You leave Pa'Guna 'lone!"

"What are you doing to do about it, infant?" He glared at the little boy, surprised to see no fear in his eyes.

"Squall, leave him alone..."

Squall took a deep breath, shifting his gaze to the older man and smiling.

"I assure you, I have no intention of hurting my son. You on the other hand..."

Laguna felt the air change. A soft wind filled the alley and in an instant, the scarred brunette was behind him. He barely had time to register the movement when the calloused hands gripped either side of his face and twisted.

The aging man felt no pain.

Kiros wanted to scream as lifeless eyes fell on his own.

"Ien, come here." The tear-cracked voice screamed, as Squall loomed over the small boys form. Ien turned, looking up at his father with an odd expression.

"Pa'Guna..." The emotionless voice asked the corpse at his feet before the alleyway began to dance with lightning. All Kiros could do was watch as Squall was hit by a strike from the boys fingers.

The alleyway went dark.

"Oh Hyne, what have I done?" The SeeD dropped to the ground, pulling Laguna onto his lap. As the tears fell from his grey eyes, the young man stroked the president's hair, leaning down periodically to kiss his forehead.

"Squall?" the sinewy black man asked, standing with help from the wall. The tear-stained eyes looked up from the cooling body for a moment before looking back down at his lover.

"Kiros, take Ien and get out of here while you can."

Ien watched numbly at his father and grandfather, wondering why Laguna wasn't moving.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to apologise to him for eternity." The brunette squeezed his eyes shut before lowering his head again.


Grabbing Ien, Kiros gave the boy one last look before leaving the alley.

Esthar had never been so quiet.

Kaien's eyes snapped open. That dream again. Sitting up, he removed the sweat soaked sheet and threw it in the hamper, walking into his bathroom. Switching on the vanity light, the teen looked at his reflection as he twisted the tap on.

The dream was still the same.

Nothing had changed.

Spraying his face with cold water, the teen lowered his head. He had vowed to save them. He'd spent ten years learning how. But yet, he still failed.

Tapping his intercom, Kaien leaned in to it, speaking softly.

"Lawson...we're going for a walk. Could you get everything ready?"

"Yes sir." Came the sleepy reply, sending a pang of guilt through the young man's mind. He sighed...she would do it. She was always serving someone, making someone happy.

So selfless.

He laughed. He was thinking way too much into this.

Throwing on a black t-shirt and Jeans, Kaien quickly attached the spiked belt that held his sword to his body. Grabbing a Jacket, he left his room and walked downstairs to the foyer where the dark-haired woman waited.

"Dream again?" She asked as she opened the door.

"I just need to vent."

"Monsters beware..." She smirked, giving her master a mischievous look.

Rolling his eyes, he walked through the exit. As he walked off, he heard Lawson closing the heavy wooden door and following closely behind.

He had to do something.

He had failed too many times.

This had to be the last time.

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