![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
FFVIII: Pieces
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Pairing: Squall/Rinoa, Laguna/Raine
Warnings: Angst, deathfic
Rating: PG
Summary: There's a baby and a dead woman and a grieving man, the same picture over again.
There was a baby.
And a dead woman.
And a distraught man.
Laguna'd seen this scene before, skewed slightly, but he'd seen it. He'd been the man. Raine'd been the woman. And Squall -- he imagined him a little, tiny Squall with flailing, kicking limbs and a tiny screwed up expression, though he'd never seen Squall as a baby -- had been the child.
And now Squall was the man, all tears held back and his expression a pale, cold mask. And he wanted to know what he could do -- what he should do. Rinoa was dead and there the kid lay, still nameless, without a mother, and almost without a father, because Squall couldn't exactly be called present -- his eyes were far off, seeing things that the living shouldn't.
Laguna didn't know what to do. He'd taken the cowardly way out. He hadn't known about Squall at first. And when he did, he was too afraid to find his son, too afraid to look into his eyes. He had never been sure what he'd see.
(When he'd finally looked into Squall's eyes, he'd seen a man with pieces missing; he blamed himself for that.)
He'd given up on Squall, the last piece of Raine. For him, that'd been the wrong thing to do.
Squall was giving up on life, never mind his son, crying and nameless. He looked half like he wanted to follow Rinoa into oblivion, and even his friends and enemy couldn't rouse him to caring.
Laguna was sure giving up on life was a bad idea, too.
Squall barely responded when he shook him awake, but the kid was crying, and it was Squall's job to take the child. To name him and love him, to cherish him as the last piece of Rinoa in the world.
(And, for just a moment, Laguna held and cherished the second to last piece of Raine -- the kid was the last piece now, and he was damned if he'd let either of the last fragments go.)
He made Squall take the baby up in his arms. He showed Squall what to do, what the doctor had shown him to do, and watched Squall marvell in exactly the way he had. There was so much Rinoa in that baby. Like Raine in Squall.
He saw the tears running down Squall's cheeks, and he let them run. They were the tears that would heal.
(He'd never cried about it, never -- and he allowed him a tear now, crying for Raine, for his son, for Rinoa, and for the child raised without a mother.)
There were so many pieces.
Pairing: Squall/Rinoa, Laguna/Raine
Warnings: Angst, deathfic
Rating: PG
Summary: There's a baby and a dead woman and a grieving man, the same picture over again.
There was a baby.
And a dead woman.
And a distraught man.
Laguna'd seen this scene before, skewed slightly, but he'd seen it. He'd been the man. Raine'd been the woman. And Squall -- he imagined him a little, tiny Squall with flailing, kicking limbs and a tiny screwed up expression, though he'd never seen Squall as a baby -- had been the child.
And now Squall was the man, all tears held back and his expression a pale, cold mask. And he wanted to know what he could do -- what he should do. Rinoa was dead and there the kid lay, still nameless, without a mother, and almost without a father, because Squall couldn't exactly be called present -- his eyes were far off, seeing things that the living shouldn't.
Laguna didn't know what to do. He'd taken the cowardly way out. He hadn't known about Squall at first. And when he did, he was too afraid to find his son, too afraid to look into his eyes. He had never been sure what he'd see.
(When he'd finally looked into Squall's eyes, he'd seen a man with pieces missing; he blamed himself for that.)
He'd given up on Squall, the last piece of Raine. For him, that'd been the wrong thing to do.
Squall was giving up on life, never mind his son, crying and nameless. He looked half like he wanted to follow Rinoa into oblivion, and even his friends and enemy couldn't rouse him to caring.
Laguna was sure giving up on life was a bad idea, too.
Squall barely responded when he shook him awake, but the kid was crying, and it was Squall's job to take the child. To name him and love him, to cherish him as the last piece of Rinoa in the world.
(And, for just a moment, Laguna held and cherished the second to last piece of Raine -- the kid was the last piece now, and he was damned if he'd let either of the last fragments go.)
He made Squall take the baby up in his arms. He showed Squall what to do, what the doctor had shown him to do, and watched Squall marvell in exactly the way he had. There was so much Rinoa in that baby. Like Raine in Squall.
He saw the tears running down Squall's cheeks, and he let them run. They were the tears that would heal.
(He'd never cried about it, never -- and he allowed him a tear now, crying for Raine, for his son, for Rinoa, and for the child raised without a mother.)
There were so many pieces.
no subject
More, more damn you, more.
no subject
no subject
BUT THIS... this could be because my brain is fried right now.