Categories > Games > Final Fantasy 8 > Fated Children
Chapter Twenty-Four - Mercy-Call
Laguna takes some risks to try and get what he wants. ~A Series of Shorts for Fated_Children on LiveJournal~ (Rating for certain chapters; warnings include sex, alcohol, language)
?Blocked
It had most assuredly not been a good day, but Laguna had it in mind that he was going to make it better.
As soon as he could get out of the office, which didn't look like it was going to happen any time soon, considering the amassed officials that had come to him with complaints and worries and other such nonsense that he didn't want to hear right now, because he'd been up for nearly twenty hours. It wasn't his fault that people were dying. The officials before him knew that, knew that they should be focusing on finding the people arranging a coup and not how defective "his" attempts at quelling rebellion had been.
Someone in the room called out for a change in administration-not a complete withdrawal of Laguna's power as President, but rather a curtailing of it, to appease the terrorists. Some one else called for the complete dissolve of the army. People were shouting and snarling over one another, the death toll and attacks and riots finally getting to their heads. These were people who had not seen war or rebellion in nearly thirty years. People who thought they would all be better off the way they had been.
It was not a good day. And none of them were making it any better.
He cut his eyes about, looking for anyone to save him from this. Odine seemed to think it all rather amusing, talking in his shrill, squeaky accent about various plans they could concoct to stop the rebellion in its path. Ward and Kiros were nowhere in sight. Laguna sighed, staring at his desk helplessly.
The quickest way to quell anything, he knew, was war. But noone would listen to him say that, he knew.
He was getting a headache from all the noise.
"Mr President!" someone was shouting over the din, but Laguna had to ignore them. If he heard one more hare-brained idea on what he should be doing, he'd snap, and probably cause more issues than would be resolved.
"Mr President!" Who was that, anyway, calling out for him? He couldn't place the voice to any name or even a face. He closed his eyes, and tried to imagine disappearing for a while. Traveling would be nice. When this all settled down-.
"/Mr President/!"
"What!?" he snapped, looking up quickly. It was one of those pages-the ones that Kiros would always chidingly shake his head about whenever Laguna doted on them, and make vague overtures about why he'd want to hire a young twenty-something onto staff (to which Laguna always proved him wrong)-looking harried and frightened.
"There's been riots, sir. But nobody's coming out to stop them!" Several people in the room began to speak all at once again. Laguna growled under his breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and counted to twenty in Galbadian.
When that didn't calm his temper, he shot to his feet.
"That is /it/!" There was a slowing in the din, as the officials began to turn and stare at him in surprise. "I've had it with all of you! Get out! Get out of my office! You-page. You go and get Adviser Ward, and tell him that he's in charge until I come out of my apartments." He stepped out from behind his desk, and began to walk pointedly toward the door.
Someone caught his arm, demanding to know what he thought he was doing.
Laguna whirled on the man, snapping, "I am going to my apartments, where I will shower, and eat, and sleep/, for maybe five hours-or at least until I can /think again. And then I'm going to come back in here, and I will listen to you all-/one at a time/-until we can figure out what we're going to do about these bastards."
"Mr /President/-."
"No," said a voice from the door. "He's right." Laguna had never, ever been so thankful for Kiros to show up late. He shot his lover a pathetic little smile, and stepped out of the door, leaving Kiros to deal with the mob.
A few hours later, as Laguna looked over the reports that had been left for him from some of the outlying villages around Esthar, Kiros slipped in. "You're welcome," he murmured, grabbing Laguna's empty plate and dumping it in the sink of the small kitchenette.
"Why did I agree to this, again?"
"Because you're a good man."
"I don't feel good," Laguna said, shaking his head. Kiros sighed, hugging him gently from behind.
"I know." They were silent for a moment.
Then: "Thanks for the mercy-call."
"My pleasure."
As soon as he could get out of the office, which didn't look like it was going to happen any time soon, considering the amassed officials that had come to him with complaints and worries and other such nonsense that he didn't want to hear right now, because he'd been up for nearly twenty hours. It wasn't his fault that people were dying. The officials before him knew that, knew that they should be focusing on finding the people arranging a coup and not how defective "his" attempts at quelling rebellion had been.
Someone in the room called out for a change in administration-not a complete withdrawal of Laguna's power as President, but rather a curtailing of it, to appease the terrorists. Some one else called for the complete dissolve of the army. People were shouting and snarling over one another, the death toll and attacks and riots finally getting to their heads. These were people who had not seen war or rebellion in nearly thirty years. People who thought they would all be better off the way they had been.
It was not a good day. And none of them were making it any better.
He cut his eyes about, looking for anyone to save him from this. Odine seemed to think it all rather amusing, talking in his shrill, squeaky accent about various plans they could concoct to stop the rebellion in its path. Ward and Kiros were nowhere in sight. Laguna sighed, staring at his desk helplessly.
The quickest way to quell anything, he knew, was war. But noone would listen to him say that, he knew.
He was getting a headache from all the noise.
"Mr President!" someone was shouting over the din, but Laguna had to ignore them. If he heard one more hare-brained idea on what he should be doing, he'd snap, and probably cause more issues than would be resolved.
"Mr President!" Who was that, anyway, calling out for him? He couldn't place the voice to any name or even a face. He closed his eyes, and tried to imagine disappearing for a while. Traveling would be nice. When this all settled down-.
"/Mr President/!"
"What!?" he snapped, looking up quickly. It was one of those pages-the ones that Kiros would always chidingly shake his head about whenever Laguna doted on them, and make vague overtures about why he'd want to hire a young twenty-something onto staff (to which Laguna always proved him wrong)-looking harried and frightened.
"There's been riots, sir. But nobody's coming out to stop them!" Several people in the room began to speak all at once again. Laguna growled under his breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and counted to twenty in Galbadian.
When that didn't calm his temper, he shot to his feet.
"That is /it/!" There was a slowing in the din, as the officials began to turn and stare at him in surprise. "I've had it with all of you! Get out! Get out of my office! You-page. You go and get Adviser Ward, and tell him that he's in charge until I come out of my apartments." He stepped out from behind his desk, and began to walk pointedly toward the door.
Someone caught his arm, demanding to know what he thought he was doing.
Laguna whirled on the man, snapping, "I am going to my apartments, where I will shower, and eat, and sleep/, for maybe five hours-or at least until I can /think again. And then I'm going to come back in here, and I will listen to you all-/one at a time/-until we can figure out what we're going to do about these bastards."
"Mr /President/-."
"No," said a voice from the door. "He's right." Laguna had never, ever been so thankful for Kiros to show up late. He shot his lover a pathetic little smile, and stepped out of the door, leaving Kiros to deal with the mob.
A few hours later, as Laguna looked over the reports that had been left for him from some of the outlying villages around Esthar, Kiros slipped in. "You're welcome," he murmured, grabbing Laguna's empty plate and dumping it in the sink of the small kitchenette.
"Why did I agree to this, again?"
"Because you're a good man."
"I don't feel good," Laguna said, shaking his head. Kiros sighed, hugging him gently from behind.
"I know." They were silent for a moment.
Then: "Thanks for the mercy-call."
"My pleasure."
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