A/N: It's been awhile since I last updated this as I've been concentrating on my other fic, Protecting the President. I really wanted to write something that centered 100% around Laguna and Quistis as I've fallen for this odd couple while writing them here. And then I've been busy. Being a mom really takes up a lot of time! But I think soon I'll have a bit more of it. My family and I are downsizing our lives and moving to Costa Rica to become beach bums. So hopefully there will be long stretches of time to write while my kids play on the sand. But we'll see! Thanks to everyone who's kept with reading this, though, so far. It really means a lot!

I hope this chapter reads okay...it's taking place about a month after the last and I tried to have Laguna catch us all up on what's been going on, but it's possibly a dismal failure. Why can writing be SO difficult? Regardless, I hope it's decently enjoyable.

-Melisa

"Mr. President, we've got him."

Laguna looked up as his Director of Intelligence entered his office, softly clicking the door shut behind him.

"Er, what was that?" Laguna asked. He shuffled through a pile of papers, wishing he could sweep them into the garbage and quit this mess once and for all.

"Seifer Almasy."

Heldridge picked up another stack from a chair and sat down. As one of Laguna's oldest friends, he dropped all vestiges of formality and leaned back, kicking up his feet and resting them upon the polished mahogany of the President's desk.

"Ward was right. That was a great hunch he had. Mr. Almasy certainly had some balls to re-enter Esthar after everything he wrought."

Laguna nodded emphatically, proud of his friend. The evening he'd returned home from the camp, after sending SeeD back to Balamb, he had called his friends over to his place to discuss the situation.

Ward had seemed quieter than usual, listening intently as Laguna, Flint, Ellone, Sadie and Kiros talked their individual theories on whom the mysterious photographer was.

When Laguna mentioned Squall's belief that none other than a SeeD could have been able to stalk him, along with Quistis's protestations that none would, Ward's obvious silence had deepened. But moments later, the hulking man sprang forward, grabbed a tablet of paper and furiously began to write. Apparently, he had spent a lot of time the previous week listening to Zell's stories and remembered him mentioning Seifer's intense rivalry with Squall.

Heldridge's men had looked into it and sure enough, a small trail led them to Almasy. It had taken over a month to chase him down, but now they had their man. Esthar's intelligence network was excellent, if not the best.

"I'd like to see him," Laguna said.

"That's not a great idea. He's dangerous. I've been thinking of having him drugged for the flight to Balamb."

Laguna and his counsel had unanimously agreed to gift Seifer to Galbadia despite his crimes against their own country, hoping to ease some of the historical tension between the two powers. And although he recognized the animosity it would cause, Laguna was insistent that Balamb Garden be used as a middle ground in which to send him.

"I'll be fine. Those bodyguards of mine will of course be there." Laguna rolled his eyes. "I'm always safe as long as they're around, right?"

"Something tells me they'd fall instantly to a SeeD."

"Perhaps, but of course you have him shackled deep in the dungeon."

"Yes, amongst a company of skeletons," Heldridge answered dryly.

"Good man. Tortured him too?"

Heldridge swung his legs back onto the floor and stood. "I wish I could. Let's go. Unless you have something pressing at the moment?"

When Laguna shook his head, Heldridge scowled. "I suppose you plan to torture him yourself. Give him a good talking to."

Laguna sobered and glanced thoughtfully away. "I guess I just want to be sure that like Rinoa, he wasn't mindlessly under Ultimecia's thrall. I need to be sure he knew what he was doing. Who knows what Galbadia will do to him. I hate to be responsible for an innocent man's life."

"He's not innocent. Mark my words...he knew."

Laguna shrugged. "Lead the way."

Seifer Almasy was sequestered in a well lit, but horribly cold, fully cemented room. Placed in its center was a single table surrounded by several chairs and sprawled across two of them, with one foot on the table, was Seifer, who raised a mocking brow upon Laguna's entrance.

"Ah, Squall's daddy come to see me." Guarded by two men in dark suits and glasses, one of them cuffed him under the chin for his impertinence. The other shoved his leg off of the table and onto the floor.

Laguna waved them off. "That's really not necessary. He's free to say whatever he wishes, sit however he wishes...whatever makes our chat comfortable."

"Weak."

With a sigh, Laguna sat down across from the young man, aware that his men were inwardly seething at the insult. He brushed it aside. Perfectly aware of who he was, the antagonism hardly unsettled him.

He studied his son's rival, not having ever been in such close proximity to the boy. He had known Almasy had a scar much like his son, even heard the tale of how they both acquired them, but while Squall's made him appear stern and unapproachable, Seifer's only shouted a rebellious nature, rarely suppressed. Before him was a man who had more raw potential, natural ability, and strength from which he could have risen high above the normal ranks of men, but for one flaw...he lacked discipline.

"What a waste," he murmured.

Seifer's eyes narrowed. "What was that, old man?"

Laguna smiled apologetically. "Never mind that."

"Fuck you." Seifer slammed back his chair and knocked over the other, as he furiously sprang to his feet. The guards were instantly on top of him, shoving his body back into the chair, yet they struggled against his flailing body despite his arms being bound behind his back.

"You may be all high and mighty now, Mr. President, but get ready to sink low. And when you do, I'll be the one laughing...laughing my ass off."

Laguna kept his expression calm. "I wasn't laughing at you, young man."

Seifer kicked at the fallen chair, earning another punch in the jaw-it seemed to unphase him. "Sure you weren't," he sneered. "But in the end, it's of no matter. Like you, I know what how it is to have the world in your grasp-to know you can crush it at your will. But it was wrenched from my control. It happened to me and it will happen to you. It will happen to Squall.

"Esthar hates you. Hates you for protecting the sorceress. They're gluttonous, feeding on their hatred for you, for Rinoa, for SeeD. Like me, you're all gonna fall. And it's fucking hilarious."

"Maybe so, but we'll maintain our integrity just the same."

"Don't give me that shit. You're no better than me, playing God from the comfortable heights of your palace. And Squall? That's laughable. A man who kills for profit to the highest bidder."

"And Rinoa? Does she deserve to die?" Laguna asked quietly.

Seifer clenched his jaw, declining to answer.

After several seconds passed, Laguna pushed back his chair and stood, flinching as the steel of the chair grated against the floor.

"It was nice to meet you, Mr. Almasy. Thank you for your time. I'm afraid we're going to have to drug you for the flight to Balamb, and for that I'm sorry, but you understand we're somewhat wary of the possibility of your escape."

Seifer frowned. "Wait, you're sending me to Balamb?" It was so fleeting that Laguna almost missed it, but he was certain he had caught a look of longing, of a desire to go home.

"Only temporarily. Galbadia wants you."

Seifer's head fell into his hands, but only for a moment, not one to be easily defeated. He looked up, forcing Laguna to stare mesmerized into his blue-green eyes. "Remember, Mr. President, the aftermath of power is a bitch."

Heldridge met Laguna in the corridor and began to walk with him to the lift. Laguna knew his friend had been listening in on his conversation with Seifer, stationed in the room next to his cell.

"That went rather well, didn't it?" Laguna asked dryly.

"Ha. I suppose so. What did you think of the young man? Finally convinced he's guilty?"

"I suppose, but I wish there was some way to help him. As odd as it sounds, I'm slightly wary of sending him to Galbadia. Although, as General Caraway is now President, perhaps he'll be treated with some measure of humanity."

"He should be strung up and hung."

"Don't let him get to you," Laguna smiled. He stopped at the lift, turning towards his friend. "I'll be accompanying you to Balamb."

Heldridge frowned. "Are you sure that's wise? I thought you were going to keep a cool distance from Garden at the present?"

"I really need to go."

"Your son?"

Laguna nodded, but his thoughts trailed to Quistis. "But perhaps my presence should be kept secret. I hate to stir up more trouble."

"We'll set the cloaking mechanism on your airship before we leave. No one need be the wiser."

"One other thing...I'd like Violet Jargens to come along."

"Certainly. I'll ask her myself."

"Thank you."

Laguna climbed into the lift and took a seat, dialing the private code to his apartment. He nodded goodbye as the plate lifter took off.

Knowing it would take several minutes for him to arrive as he was now at the lower, opposite end of the sprawling palace, he leaned his head against the leather cushion of his seat and tried to relax. But the meeting with Seifer kept replaying in his mind.

The young man had been right about one thing-the control he now had, the power he was using to keep those he loved safe, would soon be stripped away. He would hold on to hope, of course, and do all that he could to set things right, but it wasn't looking good.

Every day, more Estharians rallied together, demanding the government declare war on SeeD unless Rinoa be given over to be sealed. They wanted her securely ensconced in the heavens, all threat of her existence erased from the planet. Their most brilliant engineers and scientists were working furiously to rebuild the Lunar Base and over half of those in positions of power were beginning to yield to the populace's demands.

Elections would soon be upon them.

In eight months, he and many others would be voted out of office, all the good they had ever done expunged from the minds of those they had loyally served.

Back when he was first handed the presidency, he had vowed to always hold it loosely, figuring the people would soon realize their mistake and choose someone worthier to lead. But they never had. They'd always wanted him, always supported him. He'd never cared all that much, more than happy to step down whenever the time came. It was ironic how he now clung to the position the moment it was certain to be snatched away, knowing that when he closed the door to the executive office one final time, all hell would begin to break loose.

The primary campaign of the man now planning to run against him was that he wouldn't rest until the world was set free of Rinoa's taint and all traces of sorcery were wiped clean from the earth.

Laguna could not let that happen.

Thank Eden for Kiros and Ward, Violet Jargens, and several of his other friends in the government who were standing by his side. Tactics were hardly his forte. Kiros had always laughed at him, saying he was primarily Esthar's moral compass. Certainly it was the only sort of direction he excelled at.

But no matter what, he'd maintain his integrity and never break free from the restraints of his ethics. Under her own power, Rinoa had yet to do anything deserving of sealing and he would do his part to keep her feet on the ground.

When he arrived at the door to his apartment, he stepped inside and shuffled down the hall towards the guest quarters. All the doors were closed but one, and it was in this one that he peeked his head.

"Still working?" he asked Sadie who was furiously taking notes on whatever she was reading. She looked up, blinked, and then smiled.

"Yeah and I've got a long night ahead of me. Ruth found this volume on sorcery from an antiques collector who was loathe to let it out of his possession. I've been given a week to study it, but I'm afraid I won't get through the entire thing in time. It's huge!"

"Well, you have even less time than that, I'm afraid. We're leaving for Balamb in an hour."

At first her eyes lit up, but they quickly faded. "I can't leave yet! There's still so much here to read..." She crimsoned. "Um, but if you need me to go, I understand. I didn't mean to...I mean, I've probably stayed here long enough."

"No, no. You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. I just thought you'd welcome the opportunity to go home."

"I do, it's just..." She looked around the room at the collection of books that Laguna had had brought up from the library. "I'm of more use here than back in Balamb. At least for the present."

"I understand."

"I hope Zell does. Will you tell him that I miss him dreadfully?" she asked.

"Yep. I'll tell him you're sending him a big kiss as well. Although don't expect me to deliver it, or anything," he laughed.

Giggling, she picked up a piece of paper and planted her lips upon it with a lusty smack. She then folded it and handed it to Laguna. "This should work!"

He shook his head in amusement. "You women-folk sure are strange." And with a wink, he left, closing the door behind him.

In his closet, he yanked a shirt off of its hanger and stuffed it into a small duffelbag. What else would he need? Scrutinizing the clothing he was wearing inspired him. Definitely pants. Anything else?

He tried to focus, but his mind refused to settle down.

Hyne, he needed help. Not wanting his staff to question where he was going, he'd decided to do his own packing and then sneak out. The problem was, he really didn't know how to pack.

Dropping to his knees, he opened a drawer and pulled out some khakis, identical to the pair he was wearing. They'd work.

At least he'd only be gone for one night. Any more than that, and he would have been in serious trouble. Determining several outfits to be worn at future dates was way beyond his capabilities. Not to mention, he'd most likely forget something important like his boxers. His boxers! Pulling open another drawer, he cringed. That was a close call.

When he was done, he stood, serenaded by numerous creaks and moans. Were those his knees?

Aching limbs, stiff joints...life just couldn't get any better. It had happened; he was officially aging. The last month had thrust sixty years upon his body. Forget being in his forties, he was nearing one hundred. And although there were worse things he should be worrying about besides the deterioration of his body, he couldn't help but feel a slip of his pride. He wanted so desperately to see her...needed to see her actually, but this was hardly the best of times.

He supposed he should pack a toothbrush.

Drifting into his bathroom, he threw some toiletries into his bag and then sat on the edge of the bathtub. A clanking noise reverberated throughout the room and he strained to pinpoint its origination.

The steam room.

His eyes shut. What if she were in there waiting for him? How she had loved relaxing in its warmth, telling him that should he ever find himself stressed, to use it. He wished he now had the time.

He wished that she was in there.

Walking over to its door, he flung it open and stepped inside the cool, dark room. Dimly he could see the bench they had sat upon that day, weeks ago.

He ran his fingers over the wall. It was funny, he thought, that although she had only spent a week with him in his home, his whole apartment now echoed with her memory, screaming how stupid he had been to let her go.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he exited his room and then snuck through the rest of his apartment, sighing in relief when he was able to bypass the staff. In the foyer, he nodded to Sal and Mundy, and together they took a transport to the airstation.

It was kind of sad, he ruminated, leaving his home with no one else to say goodbye. Ellone was now gone as well, having left him to sail on board the White SeeD's ship with Flint. He'd had a letter from her the other day-the first he'd ever received from her-and she wrote of her happiness. The subject of his was left untouched.

But she would be back in a few weeks to plan her wedding now only three months away. She had begged to be married at his estate on the western coast and of course he had agreed. After that, he would most likely see her only once or twice a year if he were lucky.

The plan for an Estharian Garden as a base for the White SeeD's was now halted due to the hostilities, but General Blavely was being very vocal in trying to resurrect it, uncaring that he was gaining enemies by his endorsement. He had been bewitched, some said, by Rinoa and Laguna smiled a little, thinking it was likely true.

But his smile quickly faded. If Doj Clement, the presidential candidate running against him won, for his boldness, Blavely would be the first given the boot. And Laguna worried that the General's response would be to shake the dust of Esthar from his feet before putting himself under the command of President Caraway.

It would be utter treason, of course, and Laguna strengthened his resolve to somehow set things straight, not only for Squall and Rinoa, but for all of his friends.

Nate Heldridge and Violet Jargens were already in the airship, awaiting his arrival. When Laguna slid into a chair, Heldridge nodded and then informed them he was going to be sitting with the prisoner below. Seifer Almasy was out cold, but he wanted to inject him again at any sign of his coming to.

"I see you're dressed nicer than usual," Violet remarked with a raised brow after the Head of Intelligence left. "It's nice to see you in something a little more professional."

"I supposed the meeting warranted it," Laguna replied, thinking about how uncomfortable he already was in the suit coat, especially as underneath it was a gun butting against his ribs.

He reclined, trying to relax against the soft leather of the seat. He couldn't. His mind was still rushing, cascading over itself and refusing to still. Mrs. Jargens reached over and placed a warm hand against his cheek.

"You're jumpy, young man."

He grinned. She always made him feel young again, treating him as if he were a son. "I know. I've been trying to keep my mind occupied by replaying all the crap that's occurred this last month, but, well, the truth is, I'm also rattled by other lesser matters."

"Your son?"

"A little, yes."

Her eyes brightened knowingly. "Ah, the girl. You're going to see that girl again and you're scared."

"Maybe a little."

"A lot."

"OK, yes, a lot."

He felt the airship gently lift from the ground, and he squeezed Violet's hand when he saw her flinch. It wasn't often she took trips anymore. She was old, perhaps in her early eighties.

"Will you make love to her?"

He began to choke on nothing, unless it was his saliva. Mrs. Jargens certainly was direct. She glared at him sourly. "You're young, but not that young. Surely the mention of sex doesn't have you writhing like a school boy."

He couldn't help but laugh. "I think it does, ma'am," he admitted.

"That's ridiculous." She turned away, folding her hands primly in her lap. "The two of you are meant for each other," she said and then closed her eyes.

"Mrs. Jargens?"

"I will be napping now. Wake me when we've arrived."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied meekly.

It was a curious statement that she had made. In his recollection, she'd never met Quistis, unless it was briefly at the charity ball they had attended together. But he was sure she was aware of their brief relationship, it having been plastered throughout the media until it was outstripped by Rinoa's burgeoning power.

Violet shifted a bit in her chair. "Oh, forget about it," she said. "I can't get comfortable. You might as well tell me all about her. I need something to pass the time."

"Gladly," he grinned.

Several hours into their flight, he stopped talking mid-sentence when he heard a faint snore come from the old woman's direction. Glancing over, he smiled when he saw her white head nodding in sleep. Perhaps he'd talked of Quistis a little too long. The poor, dear lady had probably drifted off after his eighth summarization of how wonderful she truly was.

"I just really like her, you know?" he said to the air, but jumped a little when he heard her snort beside him. Surely that was just a snore.

He leaned back against the comfortable, padded chair and closed his eyes. They should soon be putting down in Balamb, perhaps within the hour, but he wished he had the peace of mind enabling him to also take a nap. Perhaps if he kept his eyes closed and tried to empty his brain, he could drift off like his friend.

"Naps are for babies, you know?"

Laguna's eyes flew open. Leaning nonchalantly in the doorway of the passenger area was Seifer Almasy.

"Your men aren't very good. That guy, Heldridge something or other, was too stupid to recognize the difference between a man biding his time and one drugged. Fool."

Laguna gripped his armrest. "Is he dead?"

"Nah. Neither are your bodyguards. I am sick of killing, believe it or not. There was no tussle with Heldridge...the man went down easily. Your bodyguards put up a bit more of a fight, but they're down for the count as well, and now also heavily sedated. Those drugs are potent. My thanks to Heldridge for bringing such a vast amount along. Actually, I take it as a sort of compliment."

"Well, you were one of the best..."

"Still am," Seifer replied dismissively. "But that shit gives an awful headache. Your head is going to feel pretty fucked up when you wake."

"What are your plans?"

"You know...commandeer the airship, drop the rest of you off somewhere in the middle of nowhere and find someplace I can quickly escape. Galbadia doesn't sound too appealing at the moment."

"You, young man, need a spanking."

"What?" Laguna was startled, and for a moment thought the statement was directed towards him. He shook his head. Wide awake, Violet was glaring at what she considered the cocky, young punk before her.

"Go to hell, old woman," Seifer spat.

"Hey, that's no way to talk to a lady," Laguna protested.

"Shut up!"

"It's fine, Laguna. Really it is. The poor child doesn't know any better."

Laguna turned to Violet, "But still, it's good to correct his manners."

"I disagree. It's a waste of time. He's a lost soul."

"Until someone is dead, there's always hope."

"You two are nuts!" Seifer shouted. "Shut the fuck up!"

"Curb your language, young man!"

"Do you have to always drop the f-bomb?" Laguna asked.

Seifer was moving towards them now, his face a mixture of fury and annoyance. Violet suddenly grabbed her armrest and Laguna heard her suck in her breath. He hoped his friend's heart wouldn't go out on her during these next few moments. She really was too old for this. He really needed to do something about the situation and quickly.

It took him only one second to open his jacket, grab his gun and fire it towards the advancing young man. He'd always been handy with a pistol and was unsurprised when Seifer's body fell backwards like a pile of lead. Next to him Mrs. Jargens emitted a muffled scream.

"It's okay," he quickly reassured her. "You're safe."

"But you just killed someone!"

"Nah, he'll be fine."

"He took a shot to the chest!"

"I used a tranq gun."

Laguna stood and went cautiously over to where Seifer lay, aware that the boy could still have a few tricks up his bag, or was even junctioned to a strong guardian force, able to withstand Esthar's most potent barbiturates. When he noticed several shallow breaths barely inflate his lungs, and the slack-jawed appearance of his face, he grimaced, knowing there was nothing to do but risk a closer look. Seifer's earlier taunts about Heldridge not not knowing how to differentiate between a faking and drugged man caused him to chuckle ruefully under his breath. He didn't know how to tell the difference either. For a moment he considered shooting another dart into him, but knew more of the tranquilizer could possibly kill him. He certainly didn't want that to happen.

"I'm pretty sure he's out, but I should probably find a rope somewhere and tie him up. I'm surprised Heldridge hadn't thought of that. The man must have really relied on his drugs." He looked over at Violet's white face. She was trying her best to remain calm. The old woman was definitely a trooper.

"Do you want to come with me or stay here? Even if he came to, I doubt he'd be in a position to bother you."

"I'll stay here."

"It won't take but a second."

He hopped over Seifer's prostate body and headed down into the hull where he found Heldridge, Sal and Mundy out cold on the metal floor. He hoped they'd be up by the time the ship arrived in Balamb. Having to acquire a gurney for the three of them, plus Seifer, would be a little embarrassing.

Looking around, he spotted several strands of rope near the table Seifer had been previously lying on, snatched them, and then ran back up to the young man. Violet looked relieved when he reappeared.

"Just another moment and we'll be good to go."

Slipping to his knees, he rolled Seifer into the prone position and quickly tied his elbows, wrists, upper legs and ankles in several simple, square knots, hoping that should he come to, they would keep him on the floor. It had been a long, long time since he'd tied someone up.

"Mr. President, you saved my life," Violet breathed when he once again sat down beside her.

Laguna shook his head. "Mr. Almasy wouldn't have killed you."

"I heard him. He was going to drop us off somewhere in the wilderness. I am eighty-four years old."

"Ma'am, I think it would take a little more than a little wilderness to kill you."

"You're probably right," she sniffed.

"But I'm glad we're still headed for Balamb. Have I told you how glorious Quistis's hair looks in the moonlight?"

"Only about a hundred million times this past hour."

"It's really something to behold."

"Perhaps the wilderness wouldn't have been too bad," she groaned and and then closed her eyes.