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Garden was ahead of the world in making alliances with Esthar. Zell liked the city, liked Ward, and learned better diplomacy this way than in a classroom or a simulator. Selphie loved it, enjoyed working near Laguna, was good at forging friendships and networking on the lower levels.
Squall liked Esthar well enough. The alliance was beneficial, the technology was interesting. The people were fine. The President...
That was.
...
(I don't want a father. What would I do with one? I'm a Garden commander, a mercenary. What are you looking for? What do you want out of me?)
Laguna looked at him, shifting nervously on one foot. "How would you like this to go?"
(Shouldn't I be asking you that? Anyone else would be lying to me for the political advantage.) "Why would anything change? The past is done with, it doesn't matter now anyway."
Laguna slumped a little, height difference vanishing, and scratched the back of his head. "Ah, sorry, that makes sense. Okay. Well. You're always welcome here - that was true anyway, but it's still true - and the same for your friends. I know we'd all like it if you ever wanted to hang around. Or talk. Or. Anything."
Squall thought that no adult should make puppy eyes. Ever. But especially this idiot. It wasn't like Squall was trying to disappoint him, it made more sense for Garden to keep the President of Esthar onside.
By the far door, Selphie suddenly giggled, and Zell outright squeaked. When Squall turned, Ward had one of them under each arm.
Kiros tilted his head. "Ward says you don't get to keep all the faeries to yourself."
Laguna laughed, looking from them to Squall. He opened his mouth, then just smiled and crossed to join the others.
(Whatever you're looking for, it's not me.)
*
For the most part, Esthar was in favor of opening up to the world. For the most part, Esthar was welcoming of Garden's presence, since they'd helped get rid of all the monsters. For the most part, the people who had a problem with it confined themselves to suggesting the election of a new president.
A couple decided to be more direct.
Squall yanked Laguna back from the sofavator as the bomb spun and ticked over. A click - a building whine of energy - he shoved him away and down, dropping to cover him. The whining peaked, Laguna twisted underneath him, and the shockwave hit - driving Squall's back into the ground, and Laguna's body into his.
*
Squall came to with his face covered by Laguna's hair, feeling like his insides had been put through a blender. He groaned with the effort of moving, and realized he couldn't hear his own voice- could only feel the vibrations of it in his aching jaw.
Laguna was heavy. Squall coughed, spat out Laguna's hair, and managed to shift enough to see. The platform was a mess. The overhead transport tunnel had broken, and pink shards mixed with the concrete and stone and the exploded workings of the sofavator. Someone was shouting, but it was far away and muffled- until Squall turned his head and saw it was Kiros, only meters distant. His Estharian robes were blackened, and when he knelt beside them Squall could see the hem was torn away, his boot knives exposed.
"I can't hear you." Squall said as clearly as he could, knowing his voice was probably too loud. "I can't tell how bad he's hit." He knew Laguna was alive, at least, could feel him breathing. (He turned us over. I had him covered, and he turned us over.)
Kiros said something and reached for Squall's hand, and Squall could feel him drawing off a Cura spell. He pushed a handful of Curagas with it, and tensed up as the spell washed over him.
Ward lifted Laguna away, and Squall passed out again with his hand still reaching after him.
*
Squall was used to waking up in medical facilities. He was used to waking up alone, with questions.
Except.
Laguna had turned them over. Squall would rather have called it stupidity, a mistake, and moved on- but he didn't think it had been. It wasn't a scenario he wanted to examine. They were hired to protect Esthar's president, to facilitate relations. To plan for a new Garden.
Squall was no stranger to being covered. Allies protect each other in battle. It's basic strategy, one he's been on both sides of more times than he can remember. This wasn't -- that.
(What am I supposed to do, tell them to find a new president, this one was too stupid to stay protected?)
Squall focused on other things.
Zell was doing a good job. He worked well with Kiros, and Squall watched his professionalism grow the more they talked. That was good. Selphie was helping Esthar security forces, both with the investigation and cleanup. She got them to smile. That was also good. Squall sat back and resigned himself to healing. It would be annoying, but he was... proud.
He got status updates, but he didn't see Laguna again for days. He didn't miss it. He knew the man wouldn't die. He still choked on Laguna's hair in his dreams, thick silence and the pounding of his own blood in his ears.
Esthar's medical was good, though. Squall was back on his feet quickly, and without the energy reserve burnout that came from too many spells. Better that way. Less reconditioning. And just in time.
*
Laguna was appearing in public again. Going out to talk to people, show off to the world that everything was fine. It wasn't, yet. But it would be. Selphie had a good lead, and had pulled in Irvine to take them out, and Zell looked like an actual adult, standing among the other officials. The immediate threat had been dealt with days ago, and the extended threat would be out of the way soon.
Squall took his place beside Laguna. He looked... alright. Recovered. That was good. He blinked at Squall as they looked each other over, but there was no time for anyone to speak privately.
"Why did you try to protect me?" stayed caught behind Squall's teeth. But as Laguna talked to his people, and Squall watched the crowd, with Laguna's body always in the field of his sight, the question faded. Squall had all the parts of the answer.
That was who Laguna was. A sentimental idiot trying to be a good ...man.
The rest would work itself out if it needed to. Squall was never going to chase it. But he could - maybe - stand not to fight it.
They went back inside, and the crowd dispersed. Squall let Zell do the talking on Garden's behalf. By the time they reached the President's office, it was only Laguna and Ward, and Laguna was limping. Ward stopped at the doorway, and nodded.
Squall followed Laguna in alone.
"Do you need medical?"
Laguna waved his hand, flailed, and overbalanced. "No! No, I'm fine. Nearly fine. Just – leg cramp."
(What do you have to be nervous about now?)
Never mind. Words made things messier. Squall knelt down in front of Laguna, on the floor. The knotted muscle was easy to find, once he nudged Laguna's hands out of the way.
He braced Laguna's shin with one hand, and dug in with his thumb. Laguna made a noise like a puppy after someone stepped on its tail, and kept making it with every twist of Squall's fingers against the muscle.
"What is this, did you tear the muscle at some point? Or is there scar tissue under here?"
Laguna bit his lip and whined. Exasperated, Squall let up the pressure, and Laguna flopped forward like a deflated balloon, head thunking on Squall's shoulder.
"Just a ...cut from way back. Healed up most of the way, but I stand funny when I'm nervous, makes it tense up."
This close, Squall could smell Laguna's hair. His skin. He remembered it, from the explosion. But he knew it because – irritatingly – Laguna's body smelled like his own.
"You've got this snarled to the point where the tension goes all the way up your thigh. I don't think you look after the muscle properly." His thumb found the hardest point of the knot and pressed in, and Laguna's whimpers escalated into 'ow ow aah stoppit owwww'. Squall narrowed his eyes. "Or maybe you're just old."
"Hey!!"
Laguna sounded so affronted, but his body stayed, trusting, under Squall's hands. Squall shifted his grip, sweeping down to draw the tension away, and let himself start to smile.
Maybe staying in Esthar would be good.