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The Sins of Two Fathers	By : wickedorin Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 687 -:- 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
- 4
- 5
- 6
"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall
concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake
1999-2005, as are the characters Kyrie and Rodger and some more random
people that don't matter as much. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall
Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The
Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are copyright Squaresoft, as are
the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever, and probably a lot of
other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you played the game, you
know. Enough said. Oh yeah, and there are plenty of spoilers
everywhere for everything. That about covers it.

        Background:
To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious
story. I started writing is as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan
fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually...
endearing. What have I done?! Ah well. Lesse, there's
a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything
in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like
my nasty language, so look out. Angst, I love putting angst everywhere.
That's about it for now. I will warn you, though, that FF characters
actually don't make up a lot of this story, especially not in the beginning.
I will make it up to you all some day. Enjoy.

The Sins of Two Fathers

Chapter 5

by Orin Drake
        Ah, first day of class.
What a... hollow joy. It wasn't really even "class". It was
still orientation week, so it was just "sit on your ass and talk to your
peers while the teachers decide how stupid you all are". Not that
they ought to publicize that. It just sounds degrading.

        It was not a joy getting
up in a new, strange place. She'd made sure to wake plenty early
enough to find everything she needed in a sleepy haze; shower, towel, clothes,
toothbrush. She ran her tongue over the front of her teeth; oh good,
she'd remembered the toothbrush. It was a difficult thing to get
to sleep the night before, for some reason. She'd been out of breath,
her heart fluttering, her muscles tense but numb... it'd been weird.
Of course, late to sleep meant way too damn early to rise. She had
to check several times just to make sure she'd remembered all of her clothes.
That wouldn't have been so easily tolerated, surely...

        As she walked into her assigned
classroom, she was greeted at the front of the room by none other than
a smiling Quistis. Walking by the front desk, she whispered jokingly,
"You're not my math instructor too, right?"

        Quistis winked. "I
wasn't,
but maybe I'll look into it now. Someone has to keep you in line."
She pointed very subtly near the back of the room, where Rodger, of all
people, sat. "Mr. Kinneas seems to share your current classroom schedule."

        Kyrie looked at her aunt
for a long period of time, completely blank. "Let me know who I have
to thank."

        The Instructor beamed and
nodded, but said nothing. Young love needed as much constant pressure
as it did space, perhaps.

        Kyrie made eye contact before
she sat next to him, seeing his expression go from bored to entertained
almost instantly. "Are you already stalking me?"

        He grinned slightly.
"Not yet."

        Oh, a threat. Or
a promise. She attempted to keep a devious expression at bay
as the bell rang.

        "One class should not be
three hours long." Rodger stated definitely, trying to find a way
for them both to get on the escalator at the same time without getting
crushed or shoved.

        Seeing an opportunity, she
darted on beside him. "Yes, that was a little insane. Even
if it was with Quistis."

        "I don't think I can take
three hours of history and government right after breakfast. Or right
before lunch." He continued, getting a bad feeling about his grades
already.

        "You're not the only one."
Kyrie added with a shudder. This damn well better be a fast-moving
semester. "Good thing we don't have to learn anything until
Monday, though."

        "But we have to fill out
forms." He stated, as though the world were ending. "That's
like... homework on the first day."

        She couldn't stop herself
from smirking. Luckily, the escalator was at the top, diverting their
conversation for a moment. "Gives us an excuse to meet for homework."
She suggested, ever so helpfully.

        "Oh, good one." He
glanced into the cafeteria, seeing the table they'd been sitting at the
night before was empty.

        The same old maid from lunch
the day before wandered by, placing trays with sandwiches that well could
have been theirs from last night in front of them, then hobbled away.
They looked at one another blankly.

        "I'm not going to survive
this." Kyrie finally spoke quietly.

        "You're definitely not alone."
Rodger assured, sitting back and staring at his "meal".

        She delicately lifted the
bread, discovering this time it was some sort of ham-like product.
This was funny. Very funny. "They finally served us pork."
Before she could make a stinging quip about the quality of the food (not
to mention the chefs), she noticed a redheaded kid staring at her.
Just staring. But not in that "is that who I think it is"
way. It was far worse than that. It was a challenge stare.
And she didn't avert her eyes for a second.

        Rodger got... a bad feeling.
He looked toward where her gaze was aimed and saw a rather... rough looking
kid. Hardly a kid, perhaps; he could easily have been older than
they were. He didn't really look it by his height, but he had a square
jaw and some rather impressive tree-trunk legs.

        The redhead didn't break
the eye contact, either. He took it as an invitation to move in,
and did so quietly among the students who were focussing on keeping their
lunches down.

        Civilly, Kyrie rose from
her chair and turned, sitting on the edge of the table, instead.
She kept that false smile on her face while she slowly crossed her arms
over her chest, waiting for whatever may come. Words first, always.
Gotta try to quell a situation. "How nice. You noticed me.
What can I do for you?"

        Rodger... had an indication
that this confrontation may not turn out well. He didn't make a move
to get up just yet, but he was ready to leap over the table should he need
to. That fact also surprised him quite a bit. He'd never "defended
his lady's honor" or anything like that before. Then, he'd never
been as interested in anyone before.

        The redhead grinned and
folded his own arms in front of him, nodding slowly with a vicious smile.
"I don't know. Maybe you can give me some information."

        "Like?" she invited, her
tone as pure and calm as a spring day... with a great big tornado just
over the horizon.

        The redhead's manner got
ten times more cocky than it had been, getting an invitation for
his insult. "Like what the daughter of a fag and a psycho bitch is
doing at Garden of all places."

        She shook her head, that
smile still spectacularly staying in place. Her voice was still gentle,
the storm brewing very slowly underneath. "Now, I can't argue with
you about the psycho bitch. And it's true, my parents are ho-mo-sex-u-al,
to expand your vocabulary. So what's your point?"

        For a moment, the kid seemed
at a bit of a loss. He'd expected a little... more. But he
had reserves. Assholes like that always did. "I don't think
you belong here."

        "I'm starting to agree with
you." She stated quite honestly. "But what's that got to do
with anything?"

        There was an... obvious
frustration in his face. "Look, bitch, I didn't come over here to
chat..."

        "Then why are we over here
chatting to begin with?" she interrupted, still civilly. "There's
ketchup on every table."

        "What?" he asked, confused.

        Kyrie pointed to the ketchup
behind her without looking away. Breaking eye contact was a no-no.
"I don't see any other reason for you to have come over here. There's
nothing else at this table that you might want."

        The asshole rolled up one
of his sleeves. "I want a piece of you."

        Here comes the storm...
Rodger thought, unable to move. This was too... sickly entertaining.

        "I'm flattered." She
never sounded more sincere. "Really, I am. But I'm spoken for.
As well as against."

        "Pussy." The redhead
growled, rolling up the other sleeve.

        That was almost too dumb
to believe. "Me?" she grinned devilishly. "You're the one about
to hit a poor little country girl."

        It was clear to a blind
man that the dumbass was on the edge of winding up to hit her. What
he planned on doing afterward, she didn't bother to guess. Didn't
need to. Her instincts took care of it all for her.

        Thump, crack, gush.
It was quick and effective. No one expected her to just haul out
and punch him in the face. This wasn't a girlie smack; this was a
prize fighter, tight fisted, arm all the way back punch. He obviously
wasn't aware she'd been trained by the best, both at sucker punches and
all-out wars. She'd tried to go for him in such a way as to leave
his nose unbroken and in tact. Whether or not she was successful,
she really didn't care. His face was covered with blood, as was her
fist. Satisfaction.

        Without a word, she took
a deep breath and began to walk out of the cafeteria.

        "Where are you going?" Rodger
stopped her right away, concerned.

        She sighed, a rough sound
coming from her clenched teeth. "To Dr. Deluth, to tell him to expect
Red over here. Then, undoubtedly, to the Headmaster. Sorry
about lunch, I'll make up for it later. I hope."

        "Do you want me to tell
Quistis?" he called to her back.

        She turned and shook her
head. "No. I'm going to take full responsibility for this one."
Her parents had always found a way to get her out of serious trouble in
grade school. She was too young to do much more than bloody a face
or bruise a torso, but they'd always found (sometimes rather ingenious)
ways to keep her in school and among the other children. This time,
though, she wanted to admit to doing it, and to why she'd done it.
She had been seriously provoked. If she needed to, she knew she could
count on Rodger to give testimony to the Headmaster.
        She sat in the waiting room
of the Headmaster's office, wrinkling her nose at the hospital-like scent
of the place. Just gutwrenching, really. Dr. Deluth had walked
her in from the infirmary (which hadn't even smelled as much like a hospital
as this place did), as was customary to do with the least injured party
in a fight.

        Kyrie sure as hell didn't
mind that only one punch was thrown. Some "fight". She'd actually
expected to be treated worse. The Doc really hadn't seemed to give
a damn either way. Not much of a bedside manner, but she assumed
she'd be a little bland herself if she had to deal with all of the little
bothers the students brought into the infirmary.

        Uh-oh. Of all
the luck in the universe, Quistis had chosen that very moment in time to
drop off some papers. In a way, Kyrie was actually a little glad
that her aunt was there. But she wasn't sure if it would actually
help
the situation. Timidly, she gave her aunt the faintest of waves with
just her fingertips.

        Quistis gently placed the
papers on the front desk, then turned and simply looked at her niece
for a moment. There wasn't anger or surprise on her face; more of
an almost calm acceptance. The gears were already turning.

        Gods of heaven and earth
bless Quistis the warlord, Kyrie tried very hard not to grin.
This was certainly not a situation to act cocky.

        The instructor walked up
to her calmly, then sat in the chair right next to hers. "Alright.
What happened?" she inquired in a low tone, already inspecting the girl
for physical marks.

        "Asshole at lunch."
Kyrie answered straight-out. "You know the bit. 'Psycho bitch',
'fag', 'I want to re-arrange your pride before I re-arrange your face'
(but not in so many words), etcetera."

        Quistis blinked, pausing
for just a moment to think out the situation. "So you got your punch
in, did you?"

        "I did."

        Her aunt nodded slowly.
"Yeah... that's not going to go over well."

        "No kidding." Kyrie
allowed herself a low chuckle.

        They both heard the lock
click as the door opened, revealing a very professional looking Headmaster
Immorein. "Kyrie Leonhart?" he raised an eyebrow, seeing Quistis
beside her.

        Her name called, she assumed
she'd be locked in the room with the Headmaster until she was made to apologize
or some such shit. But her aunt was actually quick to follow her
inside, regardless of the looks she was getting from her employer.

        Kyrie didn't bother to ask
or be invited; she sat in the leather chair in front of the Headmaster's
desk, crossing her legs at the ankles and leaning back. This little
situation hadn't happened in a while, but she was ready for it.

        Headmaster Immorein sat
heavily in his chair, but Quistis herself chose to stand behind her niece.
She knew how the guy worked; if she were somehow taller than he was, he
might actually listen to her a little more effectively.

        "Well then..." he began,
already trying to get some sort of regal accent in his voice to "strike
fear into the heart of mortals", "I am told you punched Robert Paragol
at lunch time."

        "I did." The accused
admitted.

        "And why did you
feel the need to hit him?" he continued the calm, quiet assault.

        "He was acting very threatening
toward my person." She responded, just as smoothly. "And he
called me a bitch. I mean, come on. That's not very respectful."

        The Headmaster crossed his
arms. "I hope you aren't trying to act out for attention, young lady.
Given your family history, I'd think you had enough."

        Oh, that was the wrong thing
to say. It shone deep in her eyes. Not rudely, but certainly
not politely, she carefully accentuated, "This had nothing to do with my
'family history', Sir. It had to do with a student in particular
being a rude asshole. I felt it was my responsibility to correct
him, as he is certainly not the kind of student you indicated that you
would tolerate at this school. Given there was no staff around and
talking did not ease the situation, I acted. I recommend a little
more security in the cafeteria."

        Quistis swallowed loudly.
Luckily, she hadn't had to say a word. But the last ones uttered
carried quite the sting with them. A sting she didn't think the Headmaster
would approve of in any way.

        Surprising them both, he
actually just grunted and looked from one pair of eyes to the other.
His reaction was completely uncertain for some of the longest seconds they'd
ever encountered. Finally, he placed his hands on his desk and announced,
"I'll look into that. This is a major warning, Ms. Leonhart.
Don't let it happen again."

        Quistis knew when the getting
was good. She very gently squeezed Kyrie's shoulder, and the both
of them began making their way to the door.

        "And Instructor Trepe..."
Headmaster Immorein interrupted her subtle retreat, "This is only because
you stand behind her. If a next time does happen, I won't be so lenient."

        Ouch. "Yes, sir."
She responded, quickly turning to follow (or push) her niece out the door.

        Kyrie herself couldn't say
she was angered or offended in any way. She was glad as hell to have
had her aunt find her when she did, truth be told. She wasn't certain
at first, but seeing as how things turned out now... The Headmaster
almost seemed to have made a mad dash at Quistis' throat rather than hers.
Interesting. This didn't mean her job was in danger or anything,
did it?

        They walked rather silently
out of the office, then turned to walk in the long, abandoned hallway back
into the heart of Garden. Why the offices were so damn far away from
everything else made little sense, but it did well to act as a nice, silent
little area in which to talk.

        "I almost wish I could say
I was sorry." Kyrie admitted. She never intended, or thought
it possible, for her aunt to "get in trouble".

        Quistis smirked. She
knew what she meant, and dismissed the entity of Headmaster Immorein altogether.
"You and I both know Robert is a dipshit, Kyrie. But you know you're
just going to get into trouble no matter who you hit."

        "The accused" nodded.
"I know. But it usually only takes one time..."

        A relatively sad grunt came
from Quistis. "You know from experience."

        Kyrie shrugged, not quite
reminiscing. "Gotta do what needs to be done, right?"

        A cringe met that question.
It was true, alright. And maybe the scary thing was that the daughter
of both the hero and the villain of the last big war of the world knew
it at the same age they did. Perhaps the world was no longer in danger,
but the poison was still out there.

        After another long moment
of silence, Quistis suddenly stopped in the hallway and turned to her niece,
a look of concern on her face. "Do you have condoms?"

        Kyrie was certain
her normal composure flew out the window for a few seconds. She knew
that the particular hallway in which they were situated was usually empty
(and hoped it to hell), but... wow. "I hadn't been planning... I...
no. No, I don't." She paused, gathering herself again.
"Are you trying to get me killed?"

        Quistis giggled. "I
guess I'm trying to get the three of us killed... I just want to
make sure you're taken care of."

        "And I appreciate that."
Kyrie admitted. "But next time, give me a little warning."

        "Oh, there won't be a next
time." Quistis smiled wickedly. "Just check your room when
you get back."

        Kyrie shook her head.
"You never fail to impress, Quisty."

        "It's what I do best."
Her aunt agreed, starting to walk again.

        After a moment of silence,
Kyrie felt it absolutely necessary to both change the subject and speak
her mind. "That kid isn't the only asshole I've encountered today."

        Quistis grunted, knowing
she was referring to the Headmaster. "This guy's got nothing on Cid,
I'll tell you." She sighed in the pause. "But, he runs a tight
ship. And I still have a job here, so he can't be that horrible."

        "But close." Kyrie
commented softly. "What are your thoughts on Ass-Istant Headmaster
Evaan?"

        Her aunt started to giggle.
"Well, there goes my job."

        Aha. "Seriously,
though." She implored, a look of amusement on her face as well.

        Quistis cleared her throat
quietly. "I think we're both along the same lines as far as he goes.
And I'm very glad he was busy, otherwise he'd have been the one handling
this situation."

        "I'd have gotten kicked
out for sure. Maybe arrested..." Kyrie trailed off.

        "He's just a bag of hot
air." The instructor dismissed. "But an obnoxious one."

        She held back a vicious
attack on the man's manhood in favor of something just an important: "Does
this mean I'm late for class or what?"

        Quistis gave her a devious
smile. "Actually, as 'punishment', it's common you miss the rest
of your classes for the day."

        Kyrie clenched a fist and
hissed a quiet, "Yes!"

        Her aunt chuckled.
"Stupid punishment. But it works well for you."

        "Three days until I have
to step into a math room." Kyrie continued happily. "Beautiful."

        "If you continue going on,
I'll have to get you homework." Quistis teased. "I called your
parents, by the way. They'll be picking you up at seven tomorrow."

        Bells. Alarms.
"Picking me up?"

        A devious look met that
question. "Well, I thought that maybe they could use a private train
ride. And, in the mean time, they might want to meet a certain someone..."

        "You are a demon."
Kyrie grinned. She didn't mind, really. But... wow. Quistis
was already going to have Rodger meet her parents? Then another thought
came to mind.

        But Quistis intercepted
it. "I'll tell Mr. Kinneas you'll be in your room after classes."

        She was so freakin' lucky
to have such a magnificent aunt.

        Stepping into her room, she
noticed a box the size of a labrador retriever next to her bed. She
needn't guess what was in it; her name was written in Quistis' handwriting.
"If that's not pressure..." she murmured to herself, smiling. Luckily
the box was light enough to allow her to push it into the closet, out of
sight. That might have made Rodger a little... nervous.

        Two and a half hours, give
or take, and he'd be out of class. She could go to the training grounds
again... but no, they might ask her if it was her fault they had to restock
so early. Best to wait a while. She could wander the halls
with relative freedom... but, no doubt, that was not the best of ideas
when she was supposed to be sitting with her nose in a corner, feeling
shame for what she'd done.

        Oh! She could sneak
out and get some real food! But, of course, that would be
more than noticed. Damn.

        She could always try to
study for math or history. Yeah, that was a funny idea. And
not a very good one, she didn't think.

        "There must be a way to
get television stations on these things." She spoke toward her computer.
It was mid-day, afternoon, and there were all kinds of strange and sick
things to watch that would keep her occupied. No doubt it was very
important to keep her mind occupied when she'd actually come up with the
studying idea.

        Fresh from an ungodly long
and boring discussion of why algebra and geometry is important to everyone,
Rodger wandered down the hallway. He stopped Kyrie's room and raised
his hand to knock, then paused when he thought he heard voices. With
a quick glance up and down the hallway to make sure no one was coming,
he placed his ear to the door.

        He'd worried, at first.
It had sounded like an angry male voice; there were too many thoughts to
note, each ending badly. But as he listened, he discovered that it
was really television. It had to have been; there was a laugh track.

        With a grin, he leaned back
and knocked twice. He'd suspected she was a rather creative person
who hated to be bored. And it was nice to have that proven.

        The sound of voices died
down instantly. Just a few seconds later, the door opened on a very
satisfied looking Kyrie. "Hey. I have television."

        Rodger smirked. "Yeah,
I know. Better not let word get out, everyone will want to know how
to do it."

        She backed up and indicated
for him to come in. After locking the door, she walked by the computer
and hit a key, turning the sound back up just enough to create a low murmur
to hide their conversation from anyone nosey on the outside. "It's
a lot easier than I thought." She took it upon herself to sit first,
unassuming, on the edge of the bed.

        That seemed like invitation
enough. He was quick to follow, not sitting too terribly close, but
not too far away. Either extreme was just weird. "You didn't
miss anything fun. Or interesting. Or remotely sensible."

        "What a horrible punishment."
She joked.

        "What happened?" he was
genuinely curious. He'd thought, by the sound of things, she was
going to get kicked out already. All he kept hearing all day was
how much that Robert kid had bled. Nothing was broken, but it sure
as hell couldn't have felt real good.

        "I got a warning."
Kyrie responded with a bitter edge. "But so did Quistis, I'm afraid."
She shook her head, focussing just for a moment on the carpet. "Sometimes
I actually wish people would stop defending me."

        Rodger suddenly got a very
amused look on his face. When she stared at him, he put his hands
up a little defensively. "Someone asked if you used that move on
me yet."

        She was more than glad to
smile, getting her mind off something she could swear was related to guilt.
"Yes?"

        He shrugged nonchalantly.
"I said no. You kept the damage under the clothes so no one could
see."

        That certainly enticed a
laugh out of her. They'd fallen along the same wavelength, it seemed.
Or at least similar enough to keep up with one another. How strange
it was... "Are you going home for the weekend?"

        "Yeah. Gotta eat."
He grinned. "How's your hand, by the way?"

        She thought about that one
for a moment. "Satisfied."

        "Heh. I bet."
He cleared his throat gently, getting his courage in order. Sure
it was a cheap shot, and she was sure to know what he was after, but...
"I can massage it for you. If you want."

        She raised an eyebrow and
stared dead center into his very being. Not the most comfortable
thing for him, no doubt, as it did make him squirm a little. But
that's what she was after. She knew where this was leading; at least,
she knew the general direction. "Alright." She agreed timidly.
"But... I'm fragile."

        He smiled just a touch deviously,
slowly placing his hand over hers. Not a mark on it. Sort of
surprising, with how hard she'd hit that asshole. Of course, it was
pretty clear at the time that she knew how to throw a punch. His
"sneaky plan" had worked; he grasped her hand gently and leaned in to kiss
her...

        With absolutely no warning,
she dropped the bomb, "And what base are you thinking of sliding onto tonight,
mister?"

        He pulled back and looked
at her, a little taken aback by the question. And then more so by
the way it was worded. This trial by fire business was getting tougher.
"Um... second, maybe?"

        Hm. At least he was
honest. "Through the clothes?"

        Dear gods.
He could not believe he was having this conversation. It was so...
grotesquely funny. "If I must."

        Sweet. "If
I don't remain chaste when my parents see me, you may die." She couldn't
hold a straight face at the end of that comment. It broke into a
straight-out laugh when she saw Rodger's expression.

        It did take him a moment
to get his bearings again. Sometimes it was hard to tell when she
was joking. And how much truth the jokes actually held. "Aw,
come on."

        She narrowed her eyes jokingly.
"How do I know that I'm not just one of your little flavor-sluts?"

        That one made him
laugh so hard he had to hold his stomach. "Sorry." He burst
into rapid giggles.

        Her lips twisted with the
most vicious of thoughts... She fell back onto the bed and
took a hold of his shoulders, using her momentum to turn and position him
on top of her. The laughter stopped almost immediately. "How's
this?"

        No answer. Nothing
for a moment. He'd closed his eyes with whirring thoughts better
left unspoken at that moment in time. "It's so... cruel. To
tease."

        "Oh." She pretended
not to notice. "Alright, then..." she proceeded to push him off.

        But he wasn't quite
ready to move. "Now, just wait a minute..." he grinned down at her.

        Why she didn't feel threatened
was a complete mystery. She suspected that if anyone else,
in the entire world were in the position Rodger was, she'd be clawing
their fucking eyes out and telling them to get, the, fuck, off.

        He was trying so
hard not to move at all. Especially not back and forth. "This
is slightly beyond second, you know."

        Kyrie smiled wickedly.
"I am aware. I thought you deserved as much. Putting up with
trial by fire, after all."

        Not to say he wasn't flattered.
but... this was just cruel. Even he didn't want to take it so quickly.
Though, damn, it sure felt incredible. "You know... I'm going to
have to find some time to myself tonight, now..."

        She laughed softly, thinking.
"I rather like the idea of someone jerking off with me in mind."

        His eyes closed instantly.
His voice was thick, almost pleading; her words alone might get quite the
interesting reaction... "Hyne, Kyrie..."

        She sighed quietly with
a humming sound, gently pressing against his shoulders. He was right,
this was too far. She could tease the living shit out of him, but
she didn't want to be extraordinarily cruel. And certainly
not a regular female on top of that. "Alright, alright. I'll
stop."

        It was like a sobering slap,
and he came out of his daze. "No, I don't mean it's... a bad thing..."

        She chuckled, almost ready
to pull him closer, truth be told. But he'd already thought it best
to climb off of her himself. "Never thought I had it in me."
She joked, realizing her heart had begun to race.

        "Me either." He grinned
sufficiently, making his hand move to fan himself a bit. She was
good. Real good. Temptation was going to kill him.
"Where'd you learn that?"

        "I grew up with a home computer."
She responded simply.

        That was indeed all she'd
needed to say. Everything at your fingertips; dangerous and wonderful.
And apparently she had been "wandering" for quite some time. He wasn't
sure if he ought to be nervous or grateful.

        "How about we both just
watch television with the volume low and plot how to get good food into
this place?" she suggested.

        "That's a very good idea."
He agreed. It would be nice just to sit with her. To experience
normal, everyday things with her.

        The computer screen turned
their direction and the sound down low, they sat side by side, hand in
hand, more or less just watching the pictures and catching the occasional
dialog. It didn't take long to start dubbing the characters, making
them say some pretty horrific things to one another. Then insulting
what they were wearing. And, better still, the dubbing of the news
people.

        It was nice just
to be with him, Kyrie thought. Of all the weird goddamn things in
the world... did she have a crush? Oh, hell no. It was much
bigger than that. Was it... the "L word"? As she glanced over
at Rodger to confirm or deny this suspicion, he yawned widely. "Tired
already?"

        He certainly didn't want
to be. But neither of them had gotten a lot of sleep last night,
not to mention he had to get up early the next morning. "Yeah, gotta
catch a train at seven."

        "Ugh. Me, too."
She absolutely hated getting up early. "They have fucked schedules
on the weekends."

        An idea rang in his head.
"Hey, we can get up really early and have breakfast at the station."

        "Real food? What a
concept." She paused, then amended that statement. "Well, as
real as it gets for train station food."

        Rodger grinned. "What
do you say?"

        As much as she loathed getting
up early, at least this would be worth the effort. "Sure. Meet
here at..." she paused to shudder at the very idea, "5:30?"

        "Plenty of time to get our
shit together." He agreed. Before she had a chance to come
up with something else to say, he surprised her with a short, simple kiss.
"Good night, then."

        "Don't you want me to walk
you home?" she almost wanted to convince him to stay through the night...
but obviously that wouldn't be tolerated. Not even by Quistis.
And not by her own standards... so she used to think, anyway.

        He shook his head, smiling
wistfully. "Just... sit there and wave to me, okay?"

        Hm. There was something
unusually nice to that. "Okay. Good night, Rodger."

        With another small kiss,
he slowly released her hands, stood up, and walked to the door. Tapping
the unlock, he stepped out and looked back just for a second. She
was waving with only her fingertips. Something about that enticed
a grin. He waved back, turned, and walked away.

        Kyrie was left there in
the murmur and dim light of the computer for many long minutes. What
had just happened there? Had she found a human being she didn't mind
spending time with? More amazing, that seemed to appreciate spending
time with her? And then, those feelings... So much. Almost
too much. But she wasn't complaining a bit. She hoped to hell
she could relax him at breakfast. Meeting her parents already may
be a bit... unnerving for him.

        So early. So fucking
early. Why had she made plans to get up this fucking early?

        Oh yeah. That cute
kid with the nice smile. Damn him.

        The shower did little to
wake her. She tried hot, warm, and, gods forbid, cold--for a moment.
Then it was back to hot again.

        After drying off, she took
Rodger's approach to wardrobe; jeans and a t-shirt. Only, her jeans
were black and her shirt was white. But it was the same concept.
It's not like she had anyone to dress up for, anyway. And sure as
hell not this early in the morning, even if she did.

        A knock actually came at
her door at quarter to 5:30. There was no doubt who it was, of course,
being the only one who knocks; Rodger stood on the other side, looking
every bit as conscious as she was. Maybe even a little less.

        "You're early." Kyrie
announced with a fresh toothpasted and mouth rinsed smile.

        "I thought I might as well
be. Up before the sun as it is." His words melded together
a little at the end, and he softly rubbed his face with his palms.
He'd probably sleep on the train, all the way to the end of the line.
And, if he was lucky, maybe even all the way back for good measure.
"Ready?"

        "As I will ever be."
She mumbled, stumbling out.

        Even though the air was
cold (and dammit, she'd worn a short sleeved t-shirt) and the sun was just
coming up, it was nice outside. Almost completely silent, save for
a couple of shop keepers who opened early. Pretty much just the bakery
and grocery-type stores had lights in them at the time, or sparse people
wandering toward them. Either way, it was a nice walk.

        The station itself was unnaturally
silent. as well. Sure there were the sounds of grinds, clicks and
rail checks, but no murmurs, no laughter, no human conversation.
The sounds of their footsteps echoed crisply off the walls as they made
their way to the small food court, having plenty of time to try
and wake up.

        They sat quietly in front
of a little breakfast bar, a single older woman working the front.
She seemed to think it was at least three in the afternoon, the way she
perkily came over to ask, "What would you two like to start with?"

        "Coffee." They stated
simultaneously.

        The lady smirked.
"How do you take it?"

        "Black." Kyrie answered
darkly.

        Rodger grinned. "One
sugar, please. No, wait, make that three."

        The woman raised and eyebrow,
but turned to get their orders. The coffee smelled absolutely fresh,
and they both stared weakly at the black liquid filling the white mugs.
Three sugar cubes dropped into the leftmost cup, floating for only an instant
before sinking to their eventual demise. The woman smiled warmly,
setting the cups in front of the half-alive customers. "Anything
else?"

        Kyrie glanced up at the
menu, running her eyes over everything that looked good. "Waffles
for me. And bacon."

        Rodger clicked his tongue
on the roof of his mouth. That sounded good. "Me too,
please."

        Agreeable customers.
It was about damn time. The lady smiled, nodded, and went into the
back room to cook.

        Even with the quiet, the
relative comfort they found in such an environment and around each other,
there was little conversation the few minutes they were alone. The
coffee hadn't kicked in yet. They hadn't digested anything yet.
When their plates came out, however, they suddenly woke up. These
weren't cheap, run of the mill waffles with an ounce of syrup. These
were stacked four layers high, in a syrup soup, with five strips of bacon
on a raised platform on the side of each plate. They looked like
children at holiday time.

        And the eating, oh, the
eating... The woman behind the counter was constantly going in and
out of the back room, setting up for the busy day ahead. But she
heard a number of happy sighs and quiet moans of pleasure. She'd
more or less assumed they were kids in from Garden, and she'd heard about
the food there. She was just pleased that her cooking was being enjoyed
fully. And, obviously, these were going to be returning customers.

        Both of them had been hungry,
true. But neither of them thought they could handle the whole meal.
And a coffee refill, each. It was... so good.

        With the last bite, Rodger
closed his eyes and prayed that Garden would decide its food was cruel
and unusual and offer something of this caliber. And then he remembered...
"Shit, money..." he murmured, pulling 5 Gil out of his otherwise empty
pocket. "Um... I have enough for tip..."

        Kyrie grinned, pulling something
out of her back pocket. "I got the rest covered." She flashed
a professional looking card between her fingers.

        The move caught the attention
of the woman behind the counter, and she walked over to take the card.
As she inspected the front, she instantly recognized the name. "Oh,
Ms Leonhart! No charge, dear."

        "I insist." Kyrie
countered. "Really."

        The lady seemed very split
on the issue. But, with another couple of seconds of meeting the
girl's eyes evenly, she nodded. "Alright. But next time is
free." Without waiting for response, she swiped the card through
the computer slot, getting an obnoxious beep from it, then handed it back.

        Kyrie nodded politely, waiting
for the woman to retreat into the back room before speaking. "Sometimes
it really does pay to be a Leonhart."

        Rodger smiled back, putting
the tip just under his mug. "You shouldn't have had to pay for me,
though..."

        "I didn't." She interrupted
deviously. "This is an 'emergency expense card'... but I think they'll
understand when I explain the nature of the emergency."

        He nodded thoughtfully.
"Well, I should walk you to your train. Leonhart or no," he indicated
the gunblade on her hip, "The freaks will be out soon. Shouldn't
leave you alone."

        Oh boy. "Actually...
Quistis got my parents to pick me up for some reason..." she looked over
to catch a glimpse of the horrified expression on his face. "The
train is due just a few minutes before the one to Esthar is due to leave.
It's not like you'll have a chance to converse with them or anything."

        That look of terror was
still plastered onto his face. What a thought. What had she
told them about him? What the hell did they think of him? What
the--but it was too late. What was certainly their train had begun
clunking into the station. "This is far worse than trial by fire."

        She couldn't help the amused
look on her face. "I swear, I thought it'd give you less stress if
I didn't even mention it. Go with the flow, y'know."

        He glared at her.
Not a hateful glare, surely, but a "what the hell did you do that for"
glare. But, yes, the fact remained that it was too late now.
And, honestly, he'd rather try to "go with the flow" than spend hours agonizing
about every little detail; what to say, how to dress, how not to run away
screaming in fear...

        As the train to the right
of where they were situated pulled to a stop, so too did one to their left.
Now Kyrie had cause to wait for someone to step out instead of placing
Rodger squarely into the fire. It was good for both of them, in fact.
She had time to check if there were any syrup stains on her clothes.

        From the train on the right
emerged a figure that, even from this distance, enticed a familiar feeling
in Kyrie. As she glanced at Rodger, she saw his jaw slack.
Curious, she gazed again at the woman... and recognized her from old pictures
of Squall's; Selphie. Aged with a few soft wrinkles at the corners
of her eyes and mouth, but it was definitely Selphie. For all of
her similarities to her former self, she still looked quite different.
She was in a dress, for one thing. A long one.

        Rodger stared at her for
another moment before squeaking, "I... didn't know."

        His companion (his girlfriend,
really... though that was still a new concept) only nodded. "I gathered
that."

        Quistis at work again, for
certain. But this time, no one was quite sure how it would turn out.
Rodger completely surprised her by gripping her hand tightly. What
he expected from this, she didn't really take the time to guess.
She didn't even know what the options were. Should she try to walk
up to find her parents? Just stay behind with Rodger, looking like
scared deer, waiting for... something? She felt like an idiot just
staring.

        The other train's doors
opened, and she saw her own parents step down onto the platform.
At first, they looked around for her. But it certainly didn't take
long for them to make eye contact with Rodger's mother.

        Selphie took a deep breath,
then slowly stepped toward Squall and Seifer. Her expression was
neutral, but somehow there was an irrepressible joy underneath it.
Something in her lit up just seeing those two old friends.

        The two men were obviously
in a bit of shock over seeing her at all, let alone the fact she was approaching
with open arms. Obviously it wasn't anything they had expected.
Their expressions mutated into something close to relief as Selphie threw
her arms around them both, trying not to cry.

        "This is just weird."
Rodger whispered.

        Kyrie agreed with a grunt.
"I guess we ought to go over and dislodge them."

        He took several slow, deep
breaths. "Okay."

        "You sure?" she teased.

        "Don't ask me that..." he
pleaded, standing up.

        With a comforting expression,
Kyrie led him onto the platform between the trains. There was a nervous
feeling in her chest; not necessarily for herself or anything that directly
concerned her, really, but for her parents. For the situation.
As their footsteps interrupted the silence between the trains' clatter,
the group of old friend moved apart.

        Squall cleared his throat,
allowing the shock to settle just below the surface. "This is our
daughter. Kyrie."

        I guess I'm on, she
thought dully. She forced herself to pull away from Rodger and nodded
a greeting. "Hello, ma'am."

        Selphie knotted her hands
in front of herself, seeming to look delighted. She smiled warmly
at the girl, seeing parts of both of her parents clearly. She then
held out her hands and clasped Kyrie's between them, shaking them lightly.
"So you're Kyrie. It's nice to meet you."

        She smiled back as genuinely
as she could manage. "Selphie... I've seen you in photographs."

        The woman kept on shining,
releasing her hands slowly back to her sides. "It's nice to see all
of you, of course." She paused and looked at her son, then up at
the two men, wondering whether or not to continue. She was still
decidedly carefree Selphie in the end. She giggled and commented,
"It's good that something worked out around us, isn't it?"

        Seifer's eyes dropped for
a moment. He knew it wasn't anything he should take to heart; not
that
way, at least. It wasn't even really directed toward him.

        Selphie sensed her rudeness
and immediately moved to change the subject. "Oh, yes. And
this is my son, Rodger."

        Now Rodger felt the pangs
of being center stage for a moment. He glanced at Kyrie, seeing her
chest heave a sigh of relief while her eyes gave him a sympathizing wink.

        Seifer looked at him for
a few seconds, judging. He seemed like a nice boy. Certainly
not Irvine's. Although he looked too much like his father to deny
it. At last, he held his hand out and shook firmly. "Hello."
He seriously repressed the urge to ask, with a demon's grin,
"And what
have you been doing with my daughter?"

        Rodger took a breath, grasped
that very tight and awfully calloused hand and remained as calm as he could
possibly allow himself. "Hello, sir." When his hand had been
released, he stepped to the side to offer it to Squall, hoping between
the two of them he'd be allowed to walk away free and unharmed. "Uh,
sir."

        Squall's face was absolutely
blank save small lines of concentration. He was working hard to judge
the boy in a matter of seconds. He may well be taking care of his
daughter for months to come, after all. The way they'd gotten along
so far, maybe longer. "Hello, Rodger."

        Uneasy silence ensued as
Rodger stepped back next to what he now felt was his only protection; and
she didn't seem able to offer him much shelter at the moment. Though,
now they were all exposed to one another. Too much space,
too much silence.

        "Well..." Selphie finally
interrupted, softly, "Our train is almost ready to leave by now..."

        Squall nodded. "Ours,
too." He glanced at the "lovebirds", giving one another a look of
fear and relief. "Take care of yourself."

        "You, too." Selphie
pleaded sincerely. "I... I'll give you a call after the weekend.
Okay?"

        "Yes." Seifer assured.
"Yes, of course."

        Unable to hold back, Selphie
gave them both another hug. She seemed like she wanted to say something
more, something reassuring... but any more words may just make her break
out into tears. It was good to see them. And it was good to
honestly promise to call.

        Squall gave Kyrie another
glance. A "make it quick, we gotta go" glance.

        She didn't react well under
this sort of pressure. But, what the hell. She tried to make
it fast, seeing as how they were both being watched closely. "I,
uh... see you Monday, then."

        "Right." Rodger added
a little too quickly. He was all too aware of the eyes on them as
well. It was uncomfortable to say the least. Everyone expected...
something. "I'll... see you around."

        "Hey," Seifer suggested
suavely, unable to control himself, "Why don't you give him a big kiss?"

        Rodger nearly leapt as he
saw her eyes flare for a moment. There wasn't anger in them, but
she was obviously not too thrilled. It was funny, really, and she'd
think so later. If she had to force it, she'd think so later.
"Don't want to disappoint the crowd." She whispered.

        He had no chance to react.
She'd thrown her arms around him and gone in for a great big movie kiss.
He nearly lost his balance in shock, until he found the only way to regain
it was to press his body against hers. For some reason, he found
himself minding this situation less and less. When her lips left,
he nearly moaned with frustration. Luckily, he caught himself.
He rather disliked the idea of being ripped apart by her parents.
They seemed nice, but he was fully aware of underlying issues. Issues
that could result in violence, he supposed.

        With that, they waved (well,
she waved, anyway) and moved apart with their respective parents.
Just as the trains they'd arrived on, their departures were also side by
side across the platform. Sitting down as the trains both belted
out their departure horns at exactly 7:00, Kyrie could actually see Rodger
at a window seat. Even at their distance through two layers of glass,
she saw him blushing. It was sweet in a sickly obsessed kind of way.
She waved and gave him a thumbs up as the trains slowly began moving together
for a few yards, then apart through separate tunnels.

        "Did you have any idea about
that?" Seifer finally broke the silence as the train reached full speed
just outside the station.

        "Not a clue." Kyrie
responded, still a little... shocked. It was awkward. Very,
very awkward. But that was a really good kiss. That's the thought
that really lingered.

        "Rodger seems like a good
kid." Squall chimed in, for once trying to make everyone comfortable.
His daughter, however, already seemed comfortable enough. While his
face was completely blank, his eyes had a smile playing in them.
"Good kisser, too."

        "What else is he good at?"
Seifer broke in. If there was one thing he was an expert at, it was
teasing.

        "Nothing you'd be interested
in." Kyrie responded, unable to hide her widening grin.

        Squall chuckled. Neither
of them had quite a father-daughter relationship with her. It was
a hell of a lot more... "open". And he rather liked it that way.

        Seifer, in a very sadistic
mood as was proven by the kissing request, went a little further.
They had the car all to themselves, after all. "Have you two... gone
wild yet?"

        Even Squall gave him a half
serious glare. Kyrie just laughed, which could be taken either way.
It was disturbingly funny, her father asking her if she'd had sex.
"Damned if I'll answer that, Father."

        It was Seifer's turn to
laugh. One big happy family, alright.
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The Sins of Two Fathers