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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
"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 6

by Orin Drake
        There hadn't been a lot of
conversation on the way. Not that silence was a new thing between
herself and her parents. It felt a little odd, though. Just
small comments regarding the normal things--the food, the room, the quality
of the education, how much of an ass the Headmaster was--seemed so... unusually
normal. Abnormally normal. And then some.

        The train was obviously
not a stop-over in Esthar; she noticed as she caught a glance of Esthar
Station in the distance, passing them by with a dull smirk. She wasn't
planning on Squall to want to stop and talk to Laguna or anything, but
it was still a little funny. As much as their "relationship" had
"improved" over the past few years, it still pretty much sucked.
Sometimes it even made Seifer comment along the lines of being glad he
didn't have any parents.

        About half an hour from
their ultimate destination, Squall's cell phone rang. Considering
very few people knew the number, he answered right away. "Yes?"

        Silence. And then
a slightly harsh expression on his face. Kyrie knew it was Quistis
immediately. "Yeah." Squall answered, flatly. "Great
surprise."

        His daughter tried very
hard not to look too amused when he glanced her way. "Mmm hmm."
He went on, somewhat disengaged. "We'll discuss it later. Much
later. Alright, bye."

        Seifer gave him a half-smile.
"Definitely her idea, huh?"

        Squall nodded sharply, placing
the phone back in his pocket. Truth be told, he wasn't really mad.
Nor upset. He was merely suffering from utter and complete surprise
that just didn't seem to want to dull. First, the fact that Quistis
would set up such a meeting. And then, that Selphie seemed so...
happy about it. Like the past was almost forgotten. Almost.

        Seifer decided to change
the subject altogether. "How's the gunblade been?"

        Ah, that enticed an unexpected
grin from her. "Accurate."

        Her parents exchanged a
glance. "And when have to you time to shoot?" her father asked.

        "It was part of a date."
Kyrie responded ever so innocently.

        Now Squall's mouth turned
upward in a grin he couldn't control. "So you're the reason
they had to restock the training grounds so early."

        Ooops. Caught.
Not that she could stop her shoulders from lifting, looking so goddamn
proud of herself. "A good shot's gotta practice."

        Seifer chuckled. Any
kid that would take his daughter out shooting for an evening was both extremely
safe and extremely dangerous, from a parent's perspective.

        Pulling the car into the
driveway, Squall cut the engine and stepped out. Kyrie stared for
a moment out the window, at the house. Nothing had changed.
Not that there had been time for anything to change. It was
a little comforting, actually, knowing that her parents weren't entirely
restructuring their lives now that she was... kind of "gone".

        Her thoughts were interrupted
when her door opened; her dad had done it for her. He'd never opened
her door for her before. Not that she minded at all, it was a nice
gesture. But it did make her begin to rethink the "nothing had changed"
vibe from just a millisecond back.

        Stepping onto the familiar
dirt road, she took a deep breath. Ah, the smell of home. She
had no idea she'd have missed it so much. She looked up just in time
to see Seifer and Squall exchange a bit of a look. Uh-oh. Something
was indeed... amiss. But then, the last time she'd sensed such a
thing, it'd turned out very well for her; she unconsciously ran her fingertips
over her gunblade. It couldn't be that bad anyway, could it?
They were all joking on the train and everything.

        Squall looked at his daughter
with a little uncertainty. But there was something just a little
bit... stubborn about him. As if he needed a burst of confidence
for something. "Would you like to walk with me, Kyrie?"

        Hm. That wasn't really
a question. There was a little hesitation pulling at her now, glancing
over at Seifer who seemed already on his way into the house rather than
following. "Not coming, Father?"

        Seifer smiled slightly.
"Nah. So many things to do. But I'll see you for dinner."

        Yes, this was a weird situation.
"Sure." She answered as certainly as she could manage. Not
that she was expecting any sort of danger, but... things were weird enough
as it was. She watched her dad's little nod and followed, however.

        It quickly became clear
that Squall was leading her to her "secret spot". There was a bit
of apprehension about that. It was very private, very relaxing...
but to be led there... She didn't have a pet to have died while she
was gone, so that couldn't be it. Seifer was obviously still kicking,
and didn't look like he'd had any massive medical problems. She doubted
they'd be getting a divorce at this point in time...

        Squall stopped at a place
he thought appropriate; shady, grassy, and just along the tree line of
her favorite hide-away. It felt almost as if he was trying not to
contaminate the actual area with his presence for her benefit. He
just took a deep breath as though preparing himself for something, and
indicated to sit.

        Strange. Surreal.
But not entirely uncomfortable. She sat next to one of the large
pine trees, the pungent smell of sap making her feel that much more at
home. Not to mention slightly more at ease with this situation.

        Squall sat right next to
her, leaning against the tree rather than completely face her. Not
yet. Not just yet. He lightly glanced her way, taking note
of her steady, curious gaze. Almost nervously, he commented, "This
feels a little weird, huh?"

        What an understatement.
"Im eighteen years old, sitting in the grass for the first time in my life
with my dad, and you feel weird?"

        The corners of Squall's
mouth rose slightly. She had a point. He took another deep,
preparatory breath; Seifer had convinced him that maybe he needed to make
a little more time to chat with his daughter. Just once in eighteen
years, as she'd pointed out, wasn't exactly enough to repair their relationship.
And he did desperately want to be closer to her. This was all just
so... new. "I hear there may be a romance starting..." he began jokingly.

        His daughter appreciated
the understatement, getting to be a little more at ease. "Yeah.
I guess so."

        "Serious?" he gently pressed,
wanting to know everything.

        Now that was an interesting
question. She thought so, anyway. Of course, never having had
a boyfriend before... "I just..." she stopped with an aggravated
sigh. It was so hard to express. And so weird to be doing so
in front of her dad. "I... know it's not just a crush.
I don't know how I know, but... I do."

        He tried to contain himself.
Part of him was very happy for his daughter. Another part was slightly
concerned. Rodger seemed nice, alright... but his father was
Irvine. He grunted acknowledgment of her statement rather than risk
a caustic comment.

        She couldn't help but smile
at that, just a little. She knew more or less along what line he
was thinking. "I know what I feel... but I still think it's too good
to be true." She paused with a swallow, deciding if they were ever
to be completely comfortable with each other, they'd need to speak honestly.
"How did you and Seifer finally... y'know."

        There was a dazzling bitter-sweet
smile on his face as the question sunk in. It made him look like
a teenager again. "Let me show you something." He suggested,
sitting straight up. He unbuttoned his slightly threadbare shirt
halfway and pulled it open just enough to reveal his chest. Almost
dead center there was a flat but obvious white scar; a large letter "A".

        She stared for a moment.
It didn't quite compute.

        That smile had turned into
a mild grin when his daughter glanced into his eyes. "It wasn't easy."
He said simply.

        Wow. She thought
with an intense interest. "So... Seifer did that?"

        Nearly shy laughter answered
her question as Squall buttoned his shirt again. "Yeah. It
was... the final challenge, I guess."

        Kyrie shook her head slightly.
As if that damned Rodger hadn't put enough glorious thoughts in her head...
"So when did you realize it was love? Before or after the bleeding?"

        "During." Her dad
answered honestly.

        Sweet. "So
you're saying violence is a virtue."

        "Sometimes I don't doubt
it." Squall stared back at his daughter with combined fascination
and humor. She was... an interesting person. He always knew
she was intelligent, but never once thought that she was... well, at "his
level", so to speak. Which was stupid on his part, he realized.
He remembered what he was like at eighteen. Not too terribly advanced,
perhaps, but... intelligent. And he hated people that treated him
as anything less.

        "Did you ever really love
Rinoa?" Kyrie fired point blank. She saw her dad's eyes flash open,
but wasn't left with the impression he'd try to dart around the question.

        He thought of what to say
for a moment. Not really what to say, but how to say it.
That emotional stuff was still really hard. "Yeah." He finally
decided upon. "I did." He closed his eyes, reliving the moments
he'd actually enjoyed with the girl. "She was... different from anything
I'd ever experienced. Free. Uninhibited. It was attractive."

        She could accept that answer.
"So there was a point in time when you really loved her."

        "Mmm." Squall responded
quietly. "But she changed. A lot. She became... needy.
Over time she was almost obsessive about it. About me."

        "And she was just fucking
nuts by the time I was born?" she asked seriously.

        He turned his head, almost
ready to chastise her for using such language. But then at her age,
he'd been no better. "Something like that, yes." He swallowed
slowly, fighting to actually bring back memories of his old friends.
It had been a long time. "What's Rodger like?"

        Kyrie answered most of that
question with a slightly off center grin. "He is nice.
Very. And not easily scared."

        Squall nodded. "I
never did have a lot of friends."

        "Is Selphie part of the
'in crowd' now or what?"

        "I think so. It's
really kind of nice to have her back." He paused, uncertain of what
to say next. He didn't really plan on any topic of conversation,
but words came freely from his lips regardless of thinking them through.
"I think... we all make mistakes that we aren't proud of."

        "Like Rinoa."

        He laughed. "Yes,
like Rinoa."

        She cut him off before he
could continue his line of thought. "I don't blame either of you
for anything. I never would."

        That statement seemed to
hit him a bit harder than any of the rest of her blunt comments ever had.
He was quiet for a while, thinking; remembering his life with her and Seifer.
"That doesn't really mean we're not to blame for something."

        "Touché." His
daughter agreed quietly.

        He grunted softly in acknowledgment.
His thoughts had entered another realm completely. "Do you know what
my first memory is? Just being alone. In the rain."

        "You're a ray of sunshine,
Dad."

        He chuckled. "What's
yours?"

        Kyrie took a breath and
held it between her teeth for a moment, as if tasting the situation altogether.
"You sure you really want to know?"

        "Yes." He sounded
sure enough.

        "Hearing you ask Laguna,
'Why didn't you come after me?'." It was as clear in her memory as
if it were yesterday. Somehow, for no reason she could remember,
the subject had gone from good-natured joking about never being adopted
to the serious, heated discussion of why Laguna never tried to find his
son in the first place.

        Squall paled just slightly.
He remembered that. But she was only four then. Maybe a little
younger. How could she have remembered? How could she have
understood?

        "I didn't want you to feel
guilty about it." She disabled his thought process. "But that
is
the first thing I remember." I guess that explains a bit...

        "Mmm. That bothers
you." It wasn't really a question, but it was less than a statement.
An acknowledgment, maybe.

        She cupped her chin in the
palm of one hand, looking right into his face, into his eyes. "From
the standpoint of your daughter, yes. It'd bother any kid.
From the standpoint of someone who wasn't there during this whole process
that caused the guilt, and seeing that the guilt is held onto, even multiplied..."
she trailed off, trying to put her opinion into words. It was hard
as hell to express. "I know it's part of you both. And I know
no one would let either of you forget. But there's no... no reason
to keep the experience as guilt anymore."

        He raised an eyebrow, finding
it hard to believe these words were coming from his daughter's mouth.
She sounded almost as if she were as old as he was. Maybe even older.
"It's... hard." He found himself sounding like an idiot.

        To his surprise, she smiled
slightly. "Yeah, I know. I just... hate to see it still hurting
after all this time."

        "How long have you known?"
he let himself breathe.

        "About the guilt?" she met
his thought spot-on, waiting for him to nod slightly before she continued.
"Since my first memory, I guess." She was utterly silent with thought
for a moment. "I didn't know what it was, or what to call it until
I was fifteen or so, but... I always knew it was there."

        Squall shook his head sadly,
another guilt falling across his chest. But when he looked at his
daughter, there wasn't an ounce of accusation there. More of a...
an understanding. Like she knew. Like she'd been thinking about
all of this for a very long time. It was strange to see anyone look
at him like that, let alone part of his own flesh and blood.

        "Don't start feeling guilty
again." She suggested quietly.

        "Hard habit to break."
He made an attempt to smile.

        She nodded, fully aware.
It may sting for a while, maybe, but she was confident that the rift between
herself and Squall would cease to exist eventually. They'd already
made some great progress. "I do love you, Dad." She
let herself admit openly.

        That bittersweet smile again.
She loved to see that expression, the storms gently rolling through his
lit-up eyes. "I love you too, Kyrie." Very softly, he wrapped
an arm around her and brought her closer, hugging his daughter with a love
he never thought he'd quite be able to accept from Laguna. "And I'll
try to be... better about this."

        "No need to change identities,
Dad." She quipped, lost in the embrace--but in a good way.
In fact, she was even hugging back with the same fervor. It was...
so nice. She felt the weight of Griever press up against her and
experienced an emotional lump in her throat in spite of herself.

        Seifer glanced out the kitchen
window and held his gaze, seeing Squall and Kyrie walk side by side through
the trees and into the yard. The way they were chatting back and
forth about nothing in particular made him grin. Apparently he'd
made the correct suggestion for once. Hell, he could give Quistis
a run for her money. This deserved some dessert.

        He pretended to be too involved
in some task he'd quickly picked up to notice them as they came in, but
turned around as he clearly heard the sound of their shoes on the tile
floor. Squall had his arm just resting around Kyrie's shoulders,
giving Seifer a look that emanated a weight taken off of his chest.
An everything-is-going-to-be-alright look that he never thought he quite
saw there before.

        The blonde noted how uncharacteristic
it was for him, really. But a pleasant surprise. "Hungry for
real food?"

        "Very." Their daughter
didn't miss a beat. It was an unreachable dream, real food.
Something that didn't smell or taste like pork. Something that tasted
like chicken, for once, was a godsend. "As soon as possible, please."

        "Alright." Seifer
agreed, turning on the oven. "I do have one present for you first,
though." He grinned.

        Kyrie cocked her head slightly.
"Do I get a present every time I come home?"

        "Probably." Her father
chuckled. "Spoiled brat, ya." He brought a blue gift-wrapped
box with a dark purple ribbon out from under the table, presenting it to
her with great flare.

        It's either a lot
of bullets, or something else... Kyrie thought happily. She gratefully
accepted, sat at her usual chair at the table, and carefully yanked the
ribbon apart. In a familiar flurry of tattered paper that her parents
still found humorously endearing, there was indeed a box underneath.
She carefully sliced the tape holding the lid on with her fingernails and
flipped it off the top.

        Frye boots looked back at
her. Solid black leather, save one silver decoration; a metal ring
at the outside ankle, held in place onto the boot by three thin straps
of leather placed equally apart. Wow were they ever nice looking.

        "Your dad used to have a
pair. And they were sex-ay." Seifer explained.

        Squall tried not to laugh
at that. "I still have them somewhere around here. Just in
case anyone needs their ass kicked."

        "That a hint?" Kyrie asked,
gently lifting the right boot from the box and removing the stuffing inside.

        "You bet." He smiled.

        "More like a threat."
Seifer added honestly enough to take him serious.

        She grinned the whole time
she was taking her old boots off. She could picture it; Rodger letting
something far from innocent slip accidentally, Squall chasing him from
one side, and Seifer from the other... probably not that funny for Rodger,
though. She'd make a note of telling him to be on guard. Should
he ever decide to meet her parents again, that was.

        Zipping the inner sides
of both boots, she stood and walked around a bit. Perfectly constructed
for lasting, obviously. They were padded in just the right places.
Combat boots. She felt so... wickedly powerful.

        Seifer saw that look of
satisfaction on her face. "I take it madam is pleased?"

        She turned on the ball of
her foot like a soldier. "Affirmative." She took a moment to
bounce back and forth from heel to toe and back, making sure they were
just stiff enough, without having to be severely broken in. Definitely
a high quality boot. "Thank you, Father. You, too, Dad."

        Squall crossed his arms
and leaned against the door frame, smiling. He'd picked them for
her without a second thought, hoping she would appreciate them. It
was nice to know he'd gauged her correctly. This fathering stuff
wasn't so hard.

        Dinner was Seifer's infamous
roasted lemon pepper chicken (he always called it his "quick and easy masterpiece").
And she ate it. She ate everything on her plate. She devoured
the chicken, the salad, the dinner rolls, and went back for seconds.
When the mint and chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream cake was brought
onto the table in honor of her first official visit home, she felt as though
she were about to faint. Ice cream, weakness of gods and men--and
her. Especially with cookie dough.

        She laid there on her bed,
feeling too full to move. She wasn't normally a person to eat that
much. But it was... so good. And so tempting. And
so emotionally fulfilling, she laughed. She'd come up to her
room to gather a few more articles of clothing and other various artifacts
to pack and bring back with her, but she hadn't made it to the closet.
Oh well, it was nice just to lay there.

        But it wouldn't make the
food digest any easier. She sat up with a bit of a struggle and finally
got down to the packing. Distantly she wondered just how the hell
she would ever be able to move out of Garden, considering she had plans
on visiting every weekend, and there was little doubt from time to time
she'd want to bring something else back with her or get another present
offered. In the end, it wasn't particularly important. It would
only be a major problem if she got expelled and had to get out fast.

        She snickered at that last
thought, looking down at her new boots resting beside the closet door.
Ass kicking boots, indeed. She'd found out sometime in grade school
that she had a kick like a mule; or rather, an unfortunate asshole had
brought her to that discovery. Lucky thing (for him) she was wearing
sneakers and not steel toed boots back then. What she would give
to "run into" him at this point in time, though...

        A gentle rap at her door
brought her out of her violent imaginings. "Kyrie?" Seifer called.
"Are you descent?"

        She'd always known that
to be a trick question. "Enough." The door creaked open slowly
as though her father were timid. Wow, two parent-daughter chats
in one day. I might burn out soon. She thought, watching
him close the door behind him.

        Taking the way she was silently
watching him as an open invitation, he sat beside her on the bed.
They'd had a great many chats this way together. But never over something
of this caliber. "So this Rodger..." Seifer began as seriously as
any discussion of a deadly illness, "How is he?"

        There were a number of ways
she could answer. And just as many ways to interpret his true intent
behind the simplistic wording. Decidedly, there was one safe answer,
so she thought. "Good."

        There was a reassuring smile
on his face as he nodded. "I have no doubt you'd drop him flat if
he ever made you... 'uncomfortable'." He paused, a feeling of pride
seeming to overwhelm him for a moment. "I heard about the 'incident'
in the cafeteria."

        In a split second, this
train raced through her mind: What else did Quistis tell him?
No, she wouldn't dare tell him she purchased a case of prophylactics for
me. But how much was said? How much did she know?
Rodger's life is in a hell of a lot more danger than mine. The subject
wouldn't have gone from punching an asshole to that, would it? No,
Quistis knows better than that. She's protective, but she understands
that sort of thing. And she doesn't want to see us dead. I
hope. But it came out as, "Oh."

        His grin was nearly devastating.
"We just called her to get Selphie's number. And she told us we ought
to be proud of your right hook, while putting on the front of punishment.
So, no sausage tomorrow. Just bacon. I hope you learned a valuable
lesson here."

        "Oh, I did." His daughter
assured straight-faced. "Absolutely."

        "Seriously, now..." her
father lowered his voice, "He treats you well?"

        "He does." She responded
absolutely honestly.

        "Apparently he wasn't scared
off by your obvious show of strength."

        "You really don't have anything
to worry about." Kyrie assured gently. "But I appreciate the
effort."

        Seifer smiled. "Well,
alright then. Come down and watch TV?"

        "Of course." She chimed.
"Quality time with Dad and Pa. Who could ask for anything more?"

        A slight smirk met that
question. "If you're not careful, you won't get pancakes, either."

        She stretched her legs out,
fully aware she had about twenty minutes before she arrived back at the
train station in Trabia. Then it was an unfortunately short walk
right back into Garden. For a whole week's worth of "learning".
Oh fucking joy.

        With a slight yawn, she
readjusted herself again. Why the hell had they let her convince
them to take the much later than planned night train? If she
chose to sleep when she got into her dorm, she'd only have about two hours
before she had to get up for classes (taking into consideration the vast
amount of time needed for her to wake up again after only two hours).
Not that she actually wouldn't take advantage of that opportunity.
Two hours was two hours.

        Oh well. It had been
quite the wonderful almost-weekend she'd ever spent at home. Different.
In a good way. Very calm. Very... assuring. And so incredibly
normal feeling. That was the astounding thing. It felt like
the ideal; a picture of what should have been but never was. Comfortable.

        Saying good-bye again kinda
sucked, though. She'd be back next week, sure, but... that just didn't
help matters. Now that things were going well, she wanted to stay.
But she wasn't sure how Rodger would react to that. Snickering quietly
at that thought, she wondered if he'd been waiting for her. She'd
taken it upon herself to leave a message on Quistis' voice mail about her
early morning arrival, but made no mention of telling Rodger about it.
Knowing Quistis, though, she did. And would have anyway, regardless.

        Ah, there was the station
up ahead. She could just make it out by squinting. The horror,
the agony, the possibility. Class. Ugh. She grasped the
carry-on bag she'd convinced the conductor to allow on board and made note
of the few items she'd brought back with her. Nothing big, just various
odds and ends. It was always best to be ready to dart off the train
rather than have to wait for everyone else to stumble out at this time
of morning.

        With the clanking and squeaking
of the brakes as they pulled in, she bolted. First to the door, she
glanced back. Most of the passengers were still asleep. Those
that weren't looked terribly tired, with bags under their eyes and a cup
of coffee at their lips. That started to sound like a great idea...

        "All out!" buzzed over the
speakers, the doors hissing open. The moment her feet hit pavement,
she saw a waving figure over by the newsstand on the other side of the
platform.

        She smiled at the satisfaction
of guessing correctly about her aunt. After seeing them together,
Quistis must have been ecstatic. Certainly enough to give them whatever
help she could possibly offer. Were Kyrie not such a model citizen,
she might take advantage of that. That thought made her smile wider
as she closed the gap between them.

        Regardless of only having
one small bag, Rodger took it in a gentlemanly manner. "Well?"

        "They want to know when
you're coming for dinner." She grinned, hugging him.

        He returned the hug, glad
to see her again. "Now, I can handle one parent thinking I'm cute.
But two? That's a little much."

        She laughed so hard she
had to count on Rodger to hold her up for a moment. The mental pictures...
"Well, so far you're approved of. So they don't want you dead.
Just yet."

        "That's almost reassuring.
How was... well, everything?"

        "Much better than I was
expecting, frankly. And with you?"

        "Same." He admitted,
leading their walk out of the station. "Ma seems a lot happier than
before. And I got new underwear." He rolled his eyes slightly.

        "Sweet." Kyrie joked.
"I got new boots, which is almost as good."

        Rodger stopped to look as
she did a little model spin for him. They looked... dangerous.
"Is that supposed to signify something?"

        "Hell yes." She joked
breathily.

        Upon re-entering Trabia Garden,
they realized that they were not the only students who had snuck away from
the place to go back home. Those few who were up at this hour were
wandering like aimless zombies, up and down the halls, staying clear of
the escalators. There wasn't a bright eye in the place, not to mention
anyone walking faster than a snail's pace, or in a straight line.
Lots of yawns and murmurs in place of conversation.

        And then Kyrie caught Quistis
standing just outside of the dorm hallway, monitoring the students.
Almost right away, her aunt made eye contact. And then it almost
seemed that the instructor was trying to sneak away from her...

        Kyrie gave Rodger a wink,
then proceeded in her usual torturous manner. "Quistis!" she called
very clearly. Now everyone knew that if Instructor Trepe turned or
walked the other way, it was blatant avoidance. She didn't really
have much of a choice other than to come over to the one who called her.

        "Some real work there, Quisty."
Her niece commented quietly, more or less referring to all of the "happenings"
of the past couple of days.

        Her aunt smirked, but with
good humor. "I had a fifty/fifty chance everything would be alright.
I decided to take it." She placed her hands on her hips, changing
the subject. "And I'll bet you didn't get any sleep."

        "I got an hour on the train."
Kyrie dismissed.

        Quistis shook her head,
giving her a shaming click of her tongue. "Good thing we're only
discussing duties of government today."

        "Great." Rodger breathed
through gritted teeth.

        Completely disregarding sleep
altogether, Kyrie and Rodger had "breakfast" in the cafeteria. Actually,
it was more like two pieces of toast and jam or honey; whatever you had
on your table at the time. A far cry from the breakfast bar at the
station, yes, but they were both still quite well fed from weekends at
home. And everyone else in the sparsely populated cafeteria was still
suffering from terrible lack of sleep, meaning conversation was quiet and
minimal. It was nice to hang out there until they absolutely must
get ready for class.

        Random topics of interest
passed back and forth between them. Just comments on the comforts
of home, and how Garden... lacked them. Nothing big. Nothing
important. But it was nice all the same. Strangely like they'd
never been apart for more than an hour or so.

        When it was finally time
to get ready for three hours of government hell before the mere possibility
of lunch in the same environment, they wandered through the half-dead sleep
zombies to their respective dorm rooms. Kyrie really didn't have
a lot to do; she'd already showered before she left. She changed
her clothes anyway, though, just in case. It was going to be a long
day. A really long, really hard to tolerate day.

        "Hyne, the homework..."
Rodger groaned, trying to get as far away from the classroom as quickly
as possible.

        Kyrie agreed with a slight
hiss. "I fucking hate algebra." She was instantly aware
of her curse, her eyes darting around to see if there was an instructor
listening. Luckily, no one had given her a dirty look or called her
name. "At least we have an excuse to do homework together tonight."

        "Actually..." he began,
quickly pulling her into the opening of a relatively abandoned hallway,
"I thought we could do... something else."

        She gave him a flat stare,
at which he grinned widely. "No, no. I don't mean that."
He assured. "But something... special."

        Hm. Something special.
She was enticed. And a little concerned, but she let that part slide
off like water. "Sounds interesting." She pressed.

        He only nodded. "I
just have to finish arranging a couple of things. Then I'll pick
you up about 8:00."

        Now this was interesting.
Very hush-hush, apparently. "And what should I be wearing to this
secret location?"

        Only the most mild of blushes
crossed his face as he pictured a few "outfits". "That, um... that
red shirt. With the laces."

        "And no back." She
finished for him with a devious grin.

        "That's the one."
He agreed. "And don't eat until then."

        That caused the raising
of an eyebrow. "If you insist."

        "Good." He smiled.
"Now, may I walk you to your room?"

        She only nodded, a slightly
suspicious smile on her lips. Just what the hell was he planning?
Dinner? Should she really even try to question him further?
It was a surprise, after all. Also explained why he didn't eat much
at lunch; as though either of them would, anyway.

        Having gotten dressed and
looking to waste some time before getting picked up, Kyrie rummaged through
the bag she'd brought back with her. One thing she'd been sure to
pack was a photo; a family picture taken when she was about ten years old.
Seifer was on one side of her, holding her hand and laughing. Squall
was on the other, trying desperately hard not to cross his arms, looking
fed up with everything. It amused her. It reminded her.
It made the comfort, the naturalness of what had transpired since then
feel all that more amazing.

        There was a second picture
she'd found in her drawer at home and packed that she'd nearly forgotten
about. This one was a year or two later than the first, and a real
family photo. Squall looked exactly the same, only with a different
shirt. Seifer was making one of his patented Christmas card faces,
apparently having made her laugh so hard her eyes were closed when the
flash went off. Oh well. On Squall's other side stood Elle,
giving him bunny ears. And, next to her, Laguna was leaned up heavily
against Kiros (caught mid eye rolling), arm around him, piss drunk.
Finally, looking very innocent next to Seifer, Quistis stood tall and straight
with her hands lightly cupped together in front of her. Later it
would be discovered that she was the one responsible for Laguna's "state",
having dared him to drink however many shots in thirty seconds. It
was also learned, much later still, that Quistis had done just as many
shots.

        Just looking at the photo
made her laugh out loud. Then another strange and interesting thought
came to mind; where would Rodger and Selphie fit into that picture?

        She winced a moment later,
that last thought seeming to have come from nowhere. What, was she
insane? Her first boyfriend, thinking he was a part that belonged
for long enough to take a picture..? She looked at the photo again,
seeing exactly where they would be in her mind's eye. Selphie
would be nestled between Seifer and Quistis, giggling. And herself...
she and Rodger would be in the middle, all grown up. Squall would
probably have a slightly less harsh look on his face; though she imagined
he'd probably be looking at Rodger suspiciously out of the corner of his
eye.

        She giggled to herself,
wondering just how that photo session would go. Not smoothly, she
was certain. Selphie might get in on the drinking games, though.

        Was that a lofty sigh that
had just escaped her? She put the photos on the desk, wondering what
the hell was wrong with her. It really was love, wasn't it?
Sort of eerie. Not in a bad way, but... whoah.

        A knock from the door. A
little early, she commented to herself, reading quarter to 8:00 on
the clock. She took only a moment to adjust the laces, making sure
they were tight. Not that she didn't trust Rodger, of course,
but should they be headed anywhere "public", she'd rather not have it all
hanging out at just the wrong moment. (The right moment was another
story, of course.)

        Upon opening the door, she
felt shocked, taking a good look at him from the doorway. It was
nothing exceptionally fancy or anything, but it was so... not Rodger.
Dress pants, new shoes, white shirt and a black dining jacket.
She already felt a little out of place with her ass kicking boots.
She felt like she ought to have a fan or some silk gloves or something.
Hell, even a snooty accent.

        His eyes followed her line
of vision with a subtle grin. "You like?"

        "I do. Is that you,
Rodger?" she joked, stepping back so he could step inside for a minute.

        He walked in eagerly, closing
the door behind him. "Yes, it's me. I don't clean up often, but when
I do..." he stopped to present her with--

        "Another muffin."
She laughed, grateful.

        "Did you like the last one?"
he slowly "wandered" to the bed, sitting down.

        She took a moment, noticing
his playful expression. "It tasted less like health food that it
should have, since you gave it to me."

        "That's so damn sweet."
He commented, looking at her with a devious smile. He didn't plan
anything, but they had had a nice time sitting on her bed before...

        Carefully placing the muffin
on the desk, she teasingly sat on the foot of the bed, just within reach
if he leaned over. She was actually a little surprised when he boldly
grasped hold of her shoulders and pulled her toward him, but part of her
was quite glad for the "take control" attitude of the situation.
At least, for now. "I don't think eight o'clock is a good time to
see if we'll get away with this sort of thing..." she joked.

        "Oh, I'm just preparing
you for a... later time." He released her, both to salvage his arms
from possible destruction, and to assure her he wasn't really going
to force anything. But he did want to try his hand out at this kink
thing. If only for his own sick need to see if he really could shock
the hell out of her.

        But on some level, she understood
this. And she was just sadistic enough to not only break it off,
but change direction completely. She reached out to the desk where
the photos were, grasping them with her fingertips. "Care for some
pictures of home?"

        He glared at her.
It wasn't a serious glare, but it was definitely the beginnings of one.
So this wasn't going to be so easy. Fine, alright, he'd play along
until he thought of something. The first photo, of just she and her
parents, made him grin. But the second made him chuckle.

        "And here's the amazing
part..." Kyrie interrupted gently, placing the first photo on top of the
second. She flipped back and forth between the two. "Squall
is exactly the same in both pictures. It's disturbing."

        Rodger's laughter became
full-blown as he realized it was fact. "Do you have any more examples?"

        "I'm sure I could find some
next time I visit." She promised.

        "Well..." he pulled the
old "stretch your arms over your head then lower them so that one catches
the girl's shoulder" routine, "We ought to get going to the secret location."

        "Do I have to be blindfolded?"
she teased.

        "I don't think I could get
away with it." He admitted. "No, but you do have to walk with
me out of the Garden."

        "Out of Garden?"
she feigned shock. Only a beat between sentences, she added, "Okay,
let's go."

        Rodger led the way, holding
her hand lightly. He insisted upon no hints and no guesses, but that
she would probably appreciate the result. Her curiosity increased
with every shop or coffee house they passed. Not that it was that
long of a walk or anything, but they even went past the train station.
Sad though it was, she hadn't even been past the station. Never had
a chance, though.

        Finally, taking a small
pathway in the middle of a very well kept garden, Rodger stopped in front
of a large, dark building. It wasn't dark in the sense of
dangerous or unwelcoming, but rather in a very comfortable sort of way.
The front of the building had huge, darkly tinted windows, letting only
the slightest glow of candlelight emanate from the inside. And the
doorway itself was guarded by a man in a very expensive suit and white
satin gloves.

        Kyrie was stunned to silence.
She gave the doorman a polite nod as he opened the door to see them through,
but she was just... too taken aback to react at first. Another man
in an even more expensive looking suit (sans the gloves) stood at the end
of the little entrance alcove, giving them a look.

        Rodger walked up to him
right away, stating, "Kinneas, two."

        The man looked about twice
as shocked as Kyrie felt. She didn't think they were that
obviously out of place, but it must have shown. Well... fuck the
rich, pretentious fucks, then. She'd still give him a halfway polite
smile. Regardless of the reaction, he led them through two large
rooms, all decorated with the same dark wood with dark green trim and carpet
until finally directing them toward their table for two, complete with
a burning candle and two wine glasses. Then he took his leave, quickly,
as if they could rub off if he stayed there too long.

        Kyrie waited until the guy
was well out of sight and the staring crowd returned to their quiet conversations.
"Shit, Rodger." She cleared her throat and lowered her voice, feeling
several well-to-do eyes on her. "I've just... never been to a place
like this."

        He grinned, pulling the
chair out for her. "Me either." He admitted in a whisper.
"So I thought we'd try."

        "I thought money was an
issue." She whispered, sitting down.

        "It was." He admitted,
pushing the chair gently. "But then Ma said she wanted no better
early birthday present than for us to scare the hell out of people like
this."

        Kyrie giggled darkly.
Selphie was still pretty fucking cool, after all. She gingerly flipped
through the black covered menu with gold trim, finding very little that
she could eat. And almost nothing she could pay for, though she couldn't
confirm that; there were absolutely no prices on her menu. She gave
a disgusted look to her date over the menu pages.

        He grinned back. "Find
anything edible?"

        "Yeah, I think so."
She flipped in the back for the deserts. Lots of fancy shit.
But there did appear to be "regular" stuff, too. Cake, pie, ice cream.
And lots of alcoholic beverages. She assumed you'd have to be a lush
to stand this kind of lifestyle for long...

        An older gentleman in a
black suit with those damn white gloves bowed, hands behind his back, and
greeted them. "Sir, madam. Are we ready to order?"

        The couple exchanged glances.
From the waiter's sideways look at "madam", Kyrie assumed she ought to
go first. "Fillet minion. Medium rare. And does that
happen to come with french fries?" she balanced a very well-to-do accent
with her humorous request.

        The waiter seemed to sigh
internally. "We do have potato wedges, madam."

        "Those, then." She
threw a mildly triumphant look across the table.

        Rodger tried to keep himself
composed. "You know, that sounds good. I'll have the same.
Medium, though."

        The waiter appeared to gnaw
at his bottom lip slightly. "Potato wedges for you too, sir?"

        "Oh, definitely."

        Scribbling some things down
upon his black covered note pad with his black and gold pen, the waiter
quickly took his leave. No doubt to wash the stench of commoners
off of his gloves.

        Rodger grinned widely and
leaned in as the waiter walked away. "Filet minion? The lady
orders a slab of medium rare beef?"

        Kyrie couldn't help but
chuckle at that. "I know what I want."

        That only got a toothy,
devious expression out of her date. It was probably better he didn't
say anything he was thinking at such a restaurant.

        "Do you think people feel
special with monocles?" she asked out of the blue.

        Rodger choked on his water
and pretended he was coughing rather than laughing.

        "I mean, really."
She kept going, unswayed by a couple of bitter glances in their direction.
"Is one lens somehow far superior than two?"

        Oh, what the hell.
It wasn't like they would ever be in a place like this again. "It
must be the ability to see out of one eye at a time. Not everyone
can do that."

        Their giggling was interrupted
by a separate waiter, standing there as patiently as he dared with a pitcher.
Quietly, he poured ice water into their wine glasses and left.

        "I guess they know we're
not going to be looking at the wine list." Rodger commented.

        "Oh, we'll look..."
Kyrie trailed off, seeing their waiter walking out of one of the rooms
they had passed to get to their seats with two large plates. Looked
like steak, and he was coming right for them. "Wow. Maybe the
service balances out the ridiculous prices."

        "Or maybe they just want
us out." He countered, lowering his voice as the man stepped up to
their table.

        "Medium rare." The
waiter placed her plate in front of her. "And medium." He equaled
the motion on the other side of the table and simply left.

        "We ought to be loud and
obnoxious everywhere we go." Rodger commented.

        "We are." His
date grinned widely, taking a steak knife and ever so gently creating a
shallow cut in the meat. Red-brown blood trickled out just a little,
dripping down the sides.

        Her date made a bit of a
face. "I'm not sure how you can eat that."

        "Hot, fresh, still moving."
She gave him a devious little expression and continued to cut.

        Rodger followed her lead.
It really was an excellent steak. Both of theirs, in fact.
Tender, cooked to perfection, large portions. And the potato wedges,
while seasoned a little more than they cared for, were still pretty good.
The dipping sauce was a far cry from cheap ketchup, but it worked with
the meal.

        "Desert?" Kyrie suggested
just as she'd placed her knife and fork across her plate.

        Her date stared at her for
a moment. It was confirmed; she could eat. And she didn't mind
packing it away. Especially with the thought of Garden cafeteria
fare for the rest of the week. "Why not?"

        Regardless of wanting to
be rid of them, their waiter was in earshot. The more they ate, the
better the money he made. He considered himself to have little choice
but to wait on them again. "Desert?" he inquired, pad and pen in
hand.

        Kyrie immediately made her
choice clear. "Three layer chocolate cake with," she held two fingers
up, "Two scoops of vanilla ice cream on the side."

        The waiter looked mildly
shocked by the request, but of course jotted down her order anyway.
"And you, sir?"

        "Apple pie." Rodger
chimed. "And two scoops of vanilla for me, too."

        "Hyne knows we need something
vanilla." Kyrie commented seriously.

        It was not to last.
As the waiter walked swiftly away from the pair, they broke down in unapologetic
chuckles. One snooty couple got up and walked out, having finished
their meal ages ago. What they were still doing sitting at the table
in silence, she didn't care. She was glad to be rid of their dirty
looks.

        Desert, when it arrived
almost a whole two minutes later, was spectacular. A real production.
Even the ice cream looked fancy as hell. At least it tasted like
the "common stuff". Sure the portions were small, but that was fine.
They exchanged looks over the eating of the ice cream, once going so far
as to feed one another from each others' spoons, prompting another fit
of laughter and some exceptionally dirty glances.

        At last completely and utterly
finished, Rodger winked at his date. "Watch this." From his
pocket, he produced a credit card. Then he held it above his head,
making a little flittering sound against the card with his fingernail.

        The waiter was instant in
coming. Kyrie snickered quietly as he went to the register to take
care of the bill. "Pretty impressive trick."

        "Amazing what you can learn
from television." He commented, getting up from his chair.
As gentlemanly as he dared, he walked over and took his date's hand, lifting
her.

        "I see what you mean."
She teased.

        Their waiter attempted to
maintain the composure he had achieved all evening, handing the credit
card back to the commoner without touching him in any way. He seemed
repulsed even by the fact they had touched the carpet, let alone sat in
the chairs. But then maybe that look was plastered onto his face
from some incident, long ago. Or, scarier still, it may well have
actually
been his face.

        The couple walked out without
a word, grinning from ear to ear, full and feelin' fine. Back to
Garden. It was an unspoken understanding that homework was not going
to get done tonight. But that was alright. Quistis had offered
to go over the government lessons again tomorrow, and the algebra stuff
could be done at lunch. Besides, they weren't going to eat anyway.
It was a fun and lovely end to a very interesting evening. And, being
full makes you kinda tired, anyway.

        Back inside Garden, all
was relatively quiet for only 10:00 at night. Apparently everyone
else was suffering from homework, as well. All the better for them,
walking comfortably down the hall to Kyrie's room. She punched the
unlock code into the panel and turned around, grinning, wondering what
his next move may be. "Well, thanks for the entertainment."

        He smiled back, trying very
hard to fake shyness. "Only glad to oblige."

        "Tomorrow, then."
She suggested with a wry smile threatening to break through. As had
become their custom, she merely turned to enter into her room.

        Rodger caught her arm and
gently spun her back around. "Oooooone more thing."

        Somehow elated, her interest
was piqued. "Yes?"

        A glimmer of hope and daring
entered his eyes. "I have to tell you..."

        An alarm sounded in her
mind. Oh my... I think it's... "That you love me and
you think we ought to be together for a long time?" She broke in
quietly, almost jokingly.

        He blinked. "Way to
ruin a surprise, Kyrie."

        At that moment, the elation
washed the confusion completely out of her system. Her instincts
were right on. She threw her arms around him and offered up her heart
for quite possibly the first time in her life. "Well, good.
I love you, too."

        He laughed at her enthusiasm,
holding her close. "I'm glad you made it easy." He released
her, holding her softly at arm's length. "But that wasn't right."
He cleared his throat, summoning his courage, trying not to let his voice
quiver at all. Squeezing her shoulders gently, he announced, "I love
you, Kyrie."

        She smiled sincerely, tilting
her head to the side just a little, a strand of hair falling over one eye.
"I love you too, Rodger. But you knew that already."

        He smiled brightly, pulling
her in for another hug. The suspicions of both sides were confirmed.
Utterly and completely. It was love. And it wasn't as
scary a thing as they had thought at first.

        They pulled back from each
other only long enough for a goodnight kiss. It was slow and sweet,
but there was just a touch of urgency there. Not like that,
but certainly a romantic desire. Not tonight, though. Tonight,
he night would end this perfectly. And tomorrow... well, tomorrow
would sure as hell be interesting.

        "I will see you in the morning."
He promised softly.

        "You better." She
whispered. Just one more short, small kiss. She backed into
her dorm room and waved as the door slid closed.

        Was that a... a flutter?
Or a heart attack? No, it was a flutter. This would take time
to sink in, she was absolutely certain. Her hand rose to the light
switch, but faltered. No, she didn't want to turn on the lights yet.
She wanted to sit in the dark for a moment without any sensory input, just
to lock this moment away in her memory. Then to go over it again
and again, to see if it were real.

        Then she heard a crinkle
and a bump. Oops. She must have knocked the muffin to the floor
by accident. She couldn't get away with that now, certainly.
Turning around to find it in the dark, she encountered quite a different
thing altogether.

        In that tangle of a second,
her mind waded through the shock and adrenaline to try and make sense of
things. Green eyes? She didn't know anyone with eyes that emerald
green. And certainly not like that; not those glowing cat eyes, staring
at her through a curtain of silver. So calm and so frightening at
the same time, a storm of terrified vengeance...

        And then it was gone.
Just, absolutely, gone. Everything was gone. Consciousness
ceased to exist altogether. Total darkness was her reality and her
only memory.
- 5
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The Sins of Two Fathers