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Fool's Journey	By : wickedorin Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Het - Male/Female Views: 692 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Why Yes, Another Note!:
        In reality, this is only meant
as sort of an odd side-piece (and is purely skip-able... except for that
first little part there, which I never thought I'd write but I do still
kind of like it... so sue me). Apparently I didn't seem to explain
at all that the reason Kyrie doesn't entirely remember/understand certain
aspects of the Kingdom Hearts world is because it is entirely
too much like a dream. Kinda floating in and out, y'know? Plus
panic, anger, fear... well, anyway. Consider it a possible "not entirely
true" companion piece that takes place immediately after Descendants,
and right before Ties That Bind and Tear Apart (the next, and currently
ongoing, Kyrie tale that will get back to the roots of the characters,
really).

Fool's Journey and the general overall concept of Fool's Journey
are completely copyright Orin Drake 2005, as are the characters Kyrie Almasy
Leonhart Kinneas (whew!), Rodger Kinneas and John Sparda. The name/idea
of Sparda and the weapons Ebony and Ivory are copyright Capcom. The
names of Griever, Vincent Valentine, Cloud Strife, Squall Leonhart, Seifer
Almasy, Rinoa Heartily, Quistis Trepe, and probably a million other things
I'm forgetting are copyright Squaresoft. Riku, Sora, Traverse Town,
Leon, the Heartless, Ansem, the Unknowns and a million others are copyright
Square and probably Disney... and whatever I've forgotten likely doesn't
belong to me, so... let's not worry about it. Sheesh.

        Background: Actually, this
is just a side story taking place immediately after Descendants of the
Mundane. It's meant only to set-up the next actual part in the
Sins
saga/universe/storyline, Ties That Bind and Tear Apart. In
other words, you could skip it and be just fine if you wanted... well,
mostly.

        As for WARNINGS:
uh... sex, sexuality, violence, and a lot of general oddities. No
distinction made between "'types' of sexuality" or individual moralities...
and overall just a strange sense of humor that not everyone can appreciate.
If you've read The Sins of Two Fathers, Retribution
Nor Redemption, or Descendants of the Mundane, then you'll
know what to expect. If not... then... uh... don't judge the rest
of them by this. Heh.

Fool's Journey

Chapter 1

By Orin Drake
        "Surreal" was not enough
of a word to explain the feeling, nor the circumstances, of exactly how
she'd wound up on the living room couch with a not-at-all-drunk-seeming
Vincent--save the length of time it actually took him to unbutton his dress
shirt. He could still throw a vicious glare at her when she was laughing
at him, though... not that she felt it as harshly through the nice buzz
she had going, but that much was barely there. No, it was the surrealness
that was its own interesting drug.

        Kyrie didn't wait.
She'd been waiting long enough, by her standards--the instant he'd managed
to step out of his pants without stumbling, she pulled him down on top
of her. My game, she mouthed with a grin that was only made
possible by her absolute certainty.

        "The fuck it is."
He growled softly--knowing it to be a lost cause. The feel of a woman
against him was plenty enough to keep him there. It'd been so long...
realizing who was below him caused a momentary halt to his motions,
however. She was... consenting, right..?

        A ridiculous question, she
believed. And one she cleared his mind of with a long, slow, controlled
and well-earned rotation of her pelvis against his. Ah, wasn't she
despicable... preying upon the weak, the drunk, and the sexy.

        He hissed through his teeth,
surprised and annoyed at how easily she had knocked his walls down to the
point where he was nearly a mass of hormones worse than any teenager could
aspire to. Though, clearly, he had one advantage--and he used it
with all his power.

        Her fingernails found their
way into his shoulders just as easily as she'd been penetrated. The
bastard--not
that she expected any less. And not that he'd been entirely vicious,
either; the initial thrust was rough, but not completely seated.
She took a breath like a dying person might--all gasp and desperation.
After all those years, after so long of back and forth, he was finally...
and oh Hyne how he was...

        --Flash--

        She blinked quickly.
Something was... that hadn't been... Must have been her imagination.
For a moment, she swore she'd seen... something there. Some other...
place, entirely. Not that she was surprised... she could have been
viewing heaven, for all she knew. What a thought--

        --Flash--

        Longer, that time.
Absolutely not able to be ignored, that time--but it was too late to go
back. The situation itself mixed with the gorgeous visage above,
the sensations around and within... there was no reason to stop the flood.
She let it rush over her, amused at how many seconds she'd finished before
he had. Whew, she'd be extremely tired after this one...

--FLASH--

        The most fucking horrible
headache... It'd been distant at first, as if it were hidden in the
dark behind her eyes... She didn't bother opening them for a moment,
taking time to reflect. Well. That was... wow. The most
unexpected thing ever. Even given the circumstances.

        She rolled over, a little
surprised to see... sunlight(?) fall across her closed eyelids. It
was certainly too bright to be a lamp. Had she really slept that
long? On the couc--

        ...Wait. That definitely
wasn't the couch under her. Vincent hadn't really taken her to her
bedroom after, had he? It was sorta sick-romantic, sure, but...

        Opening her eyes revealed
a surrounding that her brain was not capable of embracing. Nor understanding.
It was... a room she'd never seen. But worse... it was... i-it...was...

        It couldn't be.
It just... there was no way. It was not possible. Must
be a dream... a really real, all too nightmarish dream of the strangest
ideas... But... she could not deny the details. Even after
blinking, after taking the time to breathe... Dream or no, she had
to give in. Just... to know. "S-Squall?"

        He flinched back from her
bedside as if she'd stricken him. It was a surprised reaction, uncomfortable.
"Have we met?" he finally managed. Even he couldn't deny how similar
she looked to him, but... he was so certain he'd never seen her before.

        How... how fucked up was
this? Was her brain just being incredibly cruel? Or was that...
was that fucking Squall with longer hair? There was no moisture on
her tongue... but there weren't any words she could think of to speak,
anyway. There was just... nothing. A great lot of shocked...
nothing.

        Seeming to realize that
she wasn't going to continue the conversation herself, the spitting image
of Squall cleared his throat, leaning forward again. "I have to tell
you..."

        The very tone of his voice
caused her to sit up. Maybe not the smartest thing with her headache,
but... it was necessary. She recognized the tone. Exactly what
was more horrifying about that was not something she could afford herself
to think about.

        He continued despite the
piercing eyes drilling into him. "Your world..." He sighed,
never quite knowing where to go with that. "It's gone."

        There was a pause the likes
of which could have been plenty of time and ample silence to birth a universe.
There had been shocks in her life, certainly... but this... It was
in his eyes... in the way he said it, and those eyes... truth. A
sad, disturbing lack of lying. She surprised herself by being able
to speak. Slowly. Deliberately. "I... It's... gone?"
She could feel her control slipping... sliding down an incline,
leaving sanity and her reserve behind as the nightmare reality flooded
in.

        He nodded, recognizing the
perfect calm of the words... hiding a raging inferno underneath.
It would be best to leave her alone. Now. "I'll... be outside.
At least, someone will be. If you need anything."

        He closed the door behind
him, unable to hold in the flinch with the sound from the other side.

        Screaming. Wordless,
thoughtless, purposeless screaming. The most horrific, lost and directionless
screaming. Reasoning ceased with a seemingly endless wailing of loss
and agony, furniture crashing, glass shattering--eventually breaking down
into wracking sobs and fists to the wall.

        He wished he were able to
do that. It didn't seem that many people could. Usually when
they found out that their worlds were gone, that here was nothing to go
back to... it was a comatose silence. There was no rage for a very
long time, and even then it was usually a quiet one. This... was
relatively new.

        He walked down the hallway
and into another room to sit for a while. It never did get easier...
not that he could admit it.

        And of course who would
greet him but an eternally perky Yuffie... looking a little less than perky.
Clearly, she'd heard. "She woke up, huh?"

        He swallowed, crossing his
arms and leaning against the door frame rather than sitting down.
It didn't seem right to do either... as if his skin were crawling in too
many directions for him to stay still. The sounds from the other
room were dying down to silence... and he thought perhaps that was as good
a time as any. "Go talk to her."

       She blinked, looking almost immediately
like her normally amused self. "Me?! You've got to be
kidding, Squall."

       "Leon, Yuffie." He
turned away, somehow keeping the growl in his throat quiet. "She
called me by that name, too."

        Well, that certainly got
the gloating smile off her face. "She... knew your name? Well
then you should go talk to her."

        "You're a girl." His
tone was nearly accusatory.

        She threw her hands up in
the air, not that he was turned to see her. "No kidding, genius."

        He turned, trademark glare
obvious. "I mean, that you should go talk to her."

        "She might know you."
Yuffie suggested in a nearly hushed tone. It'd been so long since
they'd found anyone else they knew...

        "I don't know her."
He settled the subject.

        "Oh, come on." She
prodded. "She's cute! Go for it!"

        The blush was almost nonexistent...
almost. "Yuffie!"

        "Oh, don't give me that
Mr. Brooding Coldheart routine." She dismissed too easily.
"You know you're the 'bad boy with a heart of gold', and I bet she's a
sucker for it."

        An extremely long silence
followed that. At last he began to walk back down the hallway.
"...Shut up."

        He knocked first. Why,
exactly, was unclear... but it's just the thing one did, regardless of
circumstances. It was only polite, anyway. He remembered that
much. When there was no answer even after the second series of knocks,
he gently turned the handle, pressing the door open to peek in. To
his pleasant surprise, she was still alive. She was standing at the
shattered window, looking out. Shaking, but just a little.
Arms tight around herself. It was far from cold outside, but she
wouldn't have been able to tell with the cold sweat over her body.

        "Are you... better?"
Only after the question hung in the air did he realize how stupid it'd
sounded. Too late to change it, though.

        She swallowed hard, trying
to control her breathing, let alone her voice. "No." Exactly
why she'd reacted like that... well, it wasn't surprising. At least,
she'd think so later. The thought, the very idea... of Rodger and
John... Cloud, Vincent... Laguna... the rest... Hyne, all the rest... where
were they..? Where was she? What the hell had happened?
And... was it all... lost? Everything she loved and fought for...

        "It's... a normal reaction."
The cold voice glided over her problems easily.

        She laughed bitterly, sounding
more like a mild choking in her dry and weakened throat. "You really
are Squall, aren't you?"

        The question ground his
mind to a halt. What had she meant by that? And why was he
so... loathe to ask?

        "Where am I?" Her
voice was no stronger than it had been... but at least the headache was
gone.

        "This is Traverse Town."
He responded, oversimplifying severely. "Did... I know you..?"

        What a question. What
a horrible question that raised many other horrible questions... she turned,
hardly steady on her feet, to face him. Hands still trembling enough
to see, she pulled Griever out from under her shirt, showing off the metal
insignia.

        It took him a moment to
recognize it, to take note of its form and symbolism... and how it was
the exact copy of his own, lost years ago. He just about fell to
the floor with that shock. "H-how..?"

        "Griever, right?" she found
her voice starting to work again, gaining strength even when the rest of
her still felt wounded.

        "Yes..."

        She tucked the pendant back
into her shirt, trying to swallow with a dry throat. "This was a
gift. From the Squall I knew."

        Those words... were so odd.
And why he picked up on it so easily... "I-I'm... not the Squall
you knew..?"

        She turned back to the window,
as if to get a breath from the outside. She... had to. "Couldn't
be. He's dead. And... well, never had that hairstyle."

        He found himself blinking
at that. At the simplicity of the words... the matter-of-factness
behind the tone. "I've... never run into... that, before."

        She watched him out of the
corner of her eye, wondering just what the hell he was talking about.
"So... what is this place? Really."

        "A... world." He tried
to leave it at that, but clearly she was not satisfied. "This is
usually where the... refugees wind up. From... other worlds."

        "That... don't exist anymore."
She finished the thought.

        "Yes." He confirmed,
quietly. Maybe he shouldn't have... and maybe he shouldn't have said
anything at all, but... "Why don't you... sit down for a little bit."

        The option didn't seem all
that satisfying... but it was better than trying to hold herself upright
under her own power. There was a table and chairs, or there was the
bed she'd been in before... somehow the bed seemed the better option.
She sat heavily, faced toward him but not looking at him. It was
too hard in too many ways.

        He wasn't quite sure what
he ought to do next. Admittedly, a part of him would have liked to
sit next to her. Though, time and experience told him how unintelligent
that move could be... "Leon."

        Interest piqued, she finally
looked at him. Head tilting to the side, she didn't question that
new bit of information with words.

        "My name." He corrected
himself. "Is Leon."

        She closed her eyes for
a moment. No it's not. She grinned a little, internally.
"Leon..." The word itself didn't seem... right. But, it was
better than calling him by her father's name. "I'm Kyrie." And
you clearly want to sit down, so you might as well.

        As if swayed by her thoughts,
he rocked forward a little, pausing... then finally decided to join her,
sitting a good distance from her but on the same side of the bed.
"Griever..." he pressed, quietly. "And that name... 'Squall'..."

        She really wasn't certain
if she should expand upon those things. The way he was sitting next
to her, the barely perceptible possibility of warmth underneath that cold
heart for all the world to see... Well, it was amusing in its own
twisted sort of way. But she had no reason to withhold the truth.
"The Squall I knew... was my dad."

        He looked... very uncomfortable
with that idea. Clearly he himself was too young to have fathered
her, but... the idea...

        As long as questions were
being asked... "Did you... know Seifer?"

        There was a nearly imperceptible
shiver at the memories of that name. "Yeah. Yeah, I... did."

        Bitterness lived in that
statement... but she could just as easily read some sort of fond memories,
as well. Not that she expected all things to be similar... between
worlds. "Ah."

        A strange kind of question
to allow to drop like that. "Was he in your life?"

        What a strange subject to
be on... but not surprising, she supposed. "He was... my father."

        It took several beats to
understand exactly what she was saying, what it inferred. He blinked
at the idea, very... confused. "Who was your mother, then?"

        She let herself be amused,
a little. "Well, it was a subject not normally spoken of. But,
Rinoa Heartily."

        A long pause ensued.
"Holy Hyne."

        She couldn't help the mild
laughter that bubbled up at his reaction. "I guess things aren't
so
different between universes..." Her eyes closed suddenly on their
own volition--realization. "Did you find... anyone else..?"

        His stomach clenched.
It got harder, over time. He'd never expected that. "No."
Another long moment of silence passed... one that he could stand no longer.
"You had... a lot of people in your life?" Whatever kind of a stupid.
idiot question that was...

        She appreciated it, though.
Somehow. Just remembering them... was painful, but necessary.
"My husband, Rodger... and there was John, Vincent, Cloud... Laguna, Elle,
Quistis..." Many others. So many others... her chest was getting
tight, throat burning with restrained emotion.

        He noticed, brilliantly
sorry he'd asked. "I know... the last three names..."

        She nodded, trying desperately
to swallow it all back. "Was your Quisty one hell of an awesome bitch?"

        He even shocked himself
with a short chuckle. It died on his lips almost as soon as it was
born--but it had lived for a moment. "Yes. Yes, she was."

        Silence... was not welcome.
Somehow silence had become her enemy. Anything that forced her to
remember, so vividly... "And what is going on here?" Anything
to distract her... anything at all...

        As much as he realized that
she wasn't asking to hear the seriousness of the situation at hand... he
responded honestly. "We're all getting ready for another battle."
He sighed deeply. "Sora's coming back."

        It sent shivers through
her. Another battle... getting ready for battle... "And Sora
is?"

        "The Keyblade Master..."
he trailed off, understanding at last that she had absolutely no concept
of what he was saying. "Our hope. The hope. He's
been gone for... a really long time."

        I don't know what got into
me... and damned if I know where the hell this one is going or what's going
on exactly, but... the muses must be fed. Even if it means my complete
and total insanity for it. But, I figure it's not like I'm writing
this for anyone but myself, so if anyone else enjoys it... good for you
guys. If not... good for me and my muses.

        If you'd like to be e-mailed
when I update, drop me a line (orin(at)sephain.com) with whatever story/stories/website
you'd like me to inform you of.
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Fool's Journey