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Final Fantasy VIII
Rise Of The Sorcerer
by Vash
Disclaimer : Not my characters.
Warning: Character Death!


-Prologue-

Selphie thumped the monster hard against its chest
as it lifted her, causing it to drop her in surprise.

She ran to Squall, casting a quick healing spell on
him and Laguna, who was doing surprisingly well when
one considered the size of the second monster, which
he had focused on with his son while Selphie handled
the smaller creature.

"I think he's beginning to weaken," Laguna told Squall.
He turned his head as he continued. "Go for the middle
of the abdomen. It's very..."

"Look out!" Selphie cried out. But it was too late.
The monster made a slash and tore open Laguna's
abdomen, pulling out a large chunk of intestine in
the process.

Laguna sank to his knees, the wound clearly fatal. But
for some reason, he did not die.

Squall made quick work of the monster, then hurried over
to his father.

"Dad," he said, "we'll get help. I promise."

Selphie drove, wanting to give Squall those last few
moments he probably had with Laguna. By the way he was
looking, there was no way he would survive the ride back
to the Presidential Palace.

Even at full speed, the ride back would take nearly an
hour. Selphie picked up the dashboard communicator.
"Presidential Palace, this is Selphie on priority
frequency. Are you there?"

"Selphie, it's Kiros," Kiros replied. "I'm here. What's
wrong?"

"The President's been hurt," Selphie said, tears coming hard
now. "Badly. He's ... he's dying. We're bringing him home,
but he won't be alive by the time we get there."

"How bad is the injury?" Kiros asked.

"His stomach's split wide open, half his guts are out, it's
really gross!" Selphie was fighting not to lose her lunch
at the point. "He's in terrible pain. I don't know why he
hasn't died, yet."

"Just get him home," Kiros told her. "Quickly. I don't want
him to suffer any more than he has to."

"Then tell us why he's not dead." Squall demanded. "How the
hell is he still alive with half his entrails sticking out?!
Tell me, Kiros! Tell me!"

"I don't know," Kiros shook his head.

"Father," Squall said, "what is it you have to tell me?"

"I can't..." Laguna sobbed. "I don't want you to be ashamed
of me."

"Why should I be ashamed of you?" Squall asked. "What
happened? You weren't raped, were you?!" The idea that anyone
would even think of hurting Laguna was beyond sacrelidge.

"Almost," Laguna confided. "But Kiros saved me."

By the time the car came to a halt outside the palace, Kiros
and Ward were already waiting with a stretcher. Irvine
embraced Selphie and patted her back, a gesture she rewarded
him for by puking all over his boots, finally losing her battle
with nausea.

"Stay with her," Squall told Irvine, fully aware of the crush
she'd had on his father. He turned at joined Kiros and Ward
at Laguna's side.

"Laguna," Kiros said, as he escorted the President to his
deathbed. "please. Tell Squall. Your son won't be ashamed of
you. None of us will."

"No," Laguna shook his head as he was placed on his bed, his
horrible injuries soaking the mattress with blood within
moments.

"Father, please," Squall told him, "I don't want you to suffer
anymore. Please tell me why you haven't died, yet."

But Laguna would not say, nor would Kiros or Ward. The words
were for Laguna and no one else to utter.

Squall slept poorly all that week, spending each day in the
company of his father, who stubbornly refused to divulge the
secret that could end his pain.

The doctors had repaired the injury. But that was just for
show. Laguna was at death's door, and the grim reaper was
standing there waiting impatiently for him to stop dallying
and cross the threshold.

"Tell him, Laguna," Kiros pleaded. "I promise that whatever
it is, we won't hate you."

"Alright," Laguna agreed. "But you'd better sit down. It's a
long story."