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Retribution Nor Redemption	By : wickedorin Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 623 -:- 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
- 7
- 8
- 9
"Retribution Nor Redemption" and the general overall
concept of "Retribution Nor Redemption" is completely copyright Orin Drake
2002-2005, as are the characters Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas.
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.

        Background:
Well. Here is the "anticipated" sequel to The Sins of Two Fathers.
This won't be as much action as it will be psychological warfare, I think.
Don't know what else to tell you. Beware bad language, sexuality
and social outcasts having fun regardless of their status at the expense
of others.

Retribution Nor Redemption

Chapter 8

by Orin Drake
        She sighed roughly and more
or less let the upper half of her body collapse onto the tabletop.
Far from surrender--it was the fires of helpless, hopeless rage building
in her chest. This whole thing was really pissing her off.
She appreciated Vincent's effort, really. But... it fell short.
Everything did, then and there. "Soon" was the only time reference
Sephiroth had given her. That... was unsettling. It simply
wasn't enough.

        All of those disturbing
"what if" questions had begun. Slowly at first, almost silent; but
they were there, just the same. This would certainly drive
her crazy. She needed a freaking distraction. "Parcheesi, anyone?"

        Silent, utter surprise.
It was Cloud's big mouth that luckily (this time) kept things going.
"What the hell is Parcheesi?"

        "I don't know." She
admitted. "But there's a board in the closet that's been there for
at least ten years."

        "With instructions?" the
blonde looked genuinely interested.

        "Nope." She answered
flatly. "But maybe we can take turns hitting one another with the
pieces."

        "I like that idea."
Vincent tried his damnedest to advance the conversation. The new
information was just... mind blowing. He didn't really know what
to think. He hadn't had time enough yet.

        Parcheesi was a bust.
Long enough of a distraction to be useful of course, but without the instructions
it was just a board and a bunch of weird pieces. Granted that was
fine, but their group tended to... make up rules as they went along.
There were a great many cries of unfairness from all sides.

        Seeking to add a "new dimension"
to their made-up game, Kyrie found some fake money from another board game
and they began betting. That only lasted until the pieces started
flying off the table, pelting one another instead of paying up.

        Vincent had finally ended
the violence by sweeping the entire board and all off of the table, scattering
everything to the floor. Silence followed for a moment as everyone
stared at one another. At last the raven haired man suggested, with
the devious hint of a grin just edging his features, "How about cards,
then?"

        Kyrie and Rodger cast one
another such a quick, sideways glance that the other two weren't sure it
had really happened. Vincent got an instant bad feeling about his
suggestion. He inspected each and every card from the deck he was
handed, noting an all too natural expression on the faces of the house
residents as he did so.

        Growing increasingly sorry
he'd made the suggestion with each passing hand, he found himself losing
quite a bit of fake Gil, regardless of being able to pick it off the floor
every time he ran out. Cloud kept grinning at him, just glad someone
else was getting screwed here. Rodger was pretty good, but a little
messy. He hadn't had the practice Kyrie had--Seifer was notorious
for being quite the card shark. He could stack a deck from across
a room, according to Quistis. Maybe his daughter wasn't that good,
but she'd learned a thing or two, even frustrating her own father from
time to time.

        But Vincent was no slouch
when it came to cards. He'd been severely out of practice for a damn
long time, but he was beginning to get the feel of things after the first
dozen hands. He could see it now, the way her wrist flexed and the
muscles below her thumb twitched when she placed a card or made another
move. He countered as best he could without having access to a similar
deck. The counting was the easiest part of the trick, really.

        And still Cloud couldn't
be happier. He wasn't exactly winning, but he sure as hell wasn't
losing, either. It was quite enjoyable to watch this little war.

        When at long last things
were getting just a little out of hand, almost all money being exchanged
back and forth at every hand, Kyrie finally ended it with five aces and
a wink. Well, that had been fun for a while.

        "You cheated." Vincent
accused, pretending as though he hadn't known all along.

        "Just evening the score."
She responded brightly.

        There was just... a feeling.
A heavy, harmful feeling. You don't know this feeling until you're
faced with not waking up in the morning. Or at least, not as yourself.
The world would some day end... but the fact that it could very
well be tomorrow... that was not a fun thing to face. At all.

        Even death, even as frightening
as that was in some respects, would have been far easier to handle.
They knew, they all knew, that this would not be death in the typical sense.
Sephiroth had told them that just by existing. There was a finality
to death--a finality that this, whatever this was, did not have.

        Would that be how it would
turn out, like Sephiroth? Would she be herself but shattered, trapped
inside of something godawful? It wasn't... a pleasant thing to think
about. It made her want to curl into a fetal position and rock back
and forth until the end of time.

        By some miracle, she was
able to avoid doing that by staring past the TV rather than at it.
There was nothing that could entertain her enough to get her mind away
from those issues. Not even police chase videos.

        That cold... damn that cold,
suddenly invading her. She quietly wrapped her arms around herself,
pulling her legs to her chest. Her body was begging for sleep, but
her mind didn't want to obey. It wanted nothing to do with unconsciousness--that
only brought horrible things of late. And that, that was absolutely
vicious. Sleep used to be a thing to look forward to, curling up
with Rodger in a warm bed and letting down all of her defenses to that
restful, peaceful slumber. Not anymore.

        There was sore tension in
her legs, though. Her knees had begun to ache particularly, causing
her to shift her position a number of times. Her eyelids had begun
to feel heavy, her eyes eventually unable to focus on the anchor people
on the late news. She knew inwardly just how close she was coming
to collapse already. The lack of proper, uninterrupted sleep was
finally taking its toll. Now of all times... she let out a quiet
sigh.

        Her friends around her were
suffering similar fates, and she knew it. Their worry had kept them
up, and a constant state of stress did nothing to improve conditions.
She caught Cloud nearly nodding off, his whole body jerking back into a
semi-conscious state when he'd nearly fallen off the sofa.

        She allowed a yawn and tried
to force solace upon her feeble mind. There was no guarantee that
tonight would be "the night". Who said it'd be night or during
sleep, anyway? Those were just dreams and visions, nothing more.
Sleep would not be a mistake; it was a little necessary for staying alive,
after all. Body and mind resting and all that. She got the
bitter impression that "passing on" during sleep would be far too simple,
anyway. Jenova didn't seem to work like that, and Sephiroth sure
as hell didn't.

        It was clear that no one
else was going to say anything, though. They didn't dare. They
were just as far into the hopes of denying this whole thing as she was,
regardless of not wanting to admit to it . She took a breath to announce
her intentions to go to bed--and felt Rodger squeeze her hand. She
swallowed that breath, and her thoughts, for just a moment. Just
wait. He seemed to say, holding into her hand for dear life.

Just for a minute. Let me get ready for this.

        She felt nauseous.
Cold and uncertain and sick to her stomach. What a lovely way to
be going to bed. No assurances. Of anything. No rhyme
or reason to any of this shit... it was going to bring on a headache at
any minute.

        And then she felt another
squeeze on her hand. Soft, careful. He was as ready as he'd
ever be, and they both knew it. Kyrie took all the strength she could
muster from that. "Well, guys..." she began, but could not continue.

        "Good." Vincent picked
up where she dropped off automatically. "I can't stand one more minute
of these flirting morons. They're supposed to be presenting world
events to the public."

        Well. That sincerely
helped a little. Though now that she was shoved into the forefront,
she wasn't sure what the hell to do with herself. What do you say
in a situation like that? What the hell do you even pretend to act
like? She'd gladly have slept on the floor down there with the others
if it weren't for the fact that she could quite honestly kill them in the
middle of the night--not a nice thought to have in the first place.
So now what? Say "good-bye" instead of "good night" and head on up
the stairs?

        "We'll walk you up."
Answering garnet eyes had caught the uncertainty in her own. Hell,
leave it to the hard as steel former Turk to take the initiative for something
like this, huh?

        On some level, that did
make things easier. But it still felt to Kyrie as though she were
leading her own funeral procession up those stairs. What a horrific
thought; she reminded herself that there was still nothing final, nothing
assured. She stopped in front of the bedroom door, taking a deep
breath before turning around. No breaking, no feeling sorry for herself.
That was ridiculous. She ought to at least appear "strong".
Seeing the raw things carried out in the eyes of the others, though...
she tried quite hard to knock it out of them for just a minute. "Let's
just get this thing going, shall we?"

        Cloud tried to smile.
He really, really did try. But he was certain he couldn't take it
much longer. "Yeah. Uh... sleep well, Kyrie." He raised
his hand to wave--but sort of wound up with his arms around her, instead.

        It took a moment for the
shock to waver to the point for her to actually hug back. She simply
hadn't expected this outpouring of emotion. It was all the strength
she could muster to keep her voice from breaking. "You too, Cloud."

        "Yeah..." he whispered,
unwillingly releasing. This time he waved... and somewhat forced
himself to walk down the stairs, disappearing deep into the kitchen.

        Eat all you want.
She wished she was able to call after him. But... she wasn't.
She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. It was like
reloading Eleison before shooting--you just had to get the bullets in for
another round, no matter how fast the battle was moving around you.
And damn did she need to reload.

        Vincent felt... awkward.
He looked awkward, and he felt awkward, and he knew that anything he did
or said would be totally and almost inexcusably awkward. This...
could be good-bye. He looked down for a moment, unsure of how to
handle something like this. His throat felt almost too tight to let
him speak, truth be told. That was new and old at the same time,
somehow... but it wasn't exactly the time to reminisce. When Kyrie
was good and ready to look his direction, he just sort of worked off of
those instincts that had always been so right before. "Goodnight,
Kyrie."

        That was... nice.
There were people in the world that would have called that cheap--but she
couldn't have felt any better about it, really. Short, sweet, to
the point. Assassin's bullet, right through the head. "Night,
Vinnie." She tried with a great deal of desperate effort to grin.
It came out alright. Empty, maybe, but alright.

        He nodded and turned, walking
down the stairs himself. He knew he couldn't go all the way down
and offer them complete privacy--and with that he knew he wouldn't be able
to speak again for a little while. If "soon" was so close... he couldn't
leave Rodger alone with her. It was understood by all parties, but
no less awful a thing to know.

        And so the couple looked
at one another. It was completely wordless. There was no need.
Silence was the only language that could possibly have expressed... anything.
They just embraced, tightly and close as though they were trying to climb
through one another; in a sense, it was true. Impossible, but true
nonetheless. When they parted, Kyrie moved to take off Griever--but
Rodger put his hand over the heavy pendant. He wouldn't accept it.
No damn way would he accept it. Not while there was still a chance
and she was still living and breathing, goddammit. It was understood.
With that came the last heavy set of footsteps down the stairs. Moments
later, the bedroom door was heard to close. There was no sound at
all coming from downstairs.

        I should cry.
She thought to herself in the dark room, staring at the ceiling.
That's
what anyone else would do now. They would cry... and maybe pray.
Maybe beg. She sighed, feeling the impending tightness in her
throat. In reality, she still couldn't cry. She couldn't let
it reach that point. Maybe it would be "healthier" that way, but...
she wasn't one to listen to shrinks.

        A chair slamming into a
wall in the kitchen. She recognized the sound, surprisingly enough.
Her parents never really had fights, but... there were certain aggravations.
Ones that she damn well understood to a point now, she was starting to
think. Who it had been who killed the poor, unassuming chair was
unclear. The door was closed, so any words exchanged were done so
too low for her to hear. Little matter it made; they could always
buy more chairs. Raze the house for all she cared. It was alright,
they had every right to have rage. Rage like hers, even. At
least someone seemed to be letting it all out. Good thing there wasn't
a liquor cabinet.

        Though, come to think of
it, liquor might have come in damn handy for the situation. Or at
least for the night, to make her sleep all the way through it. Of
course, there were all of those less than attractive downsides.

        It didn't really matter.
She turned onto her side, reluctant even to close her eyes. They
didn't even know if "soon" meant now. "Soon" can mean months or years.
Granted she had the distinct impression that such was not the case, but...
a little false hope and blind faith was alright in the dark. In the
dark with a madman.

        She had no idea biting that
son of a bitch (literally and figuratively) would have so much disaster
for her. How could she have had any indication? She'd known
nothing of him, and had every damn reason to believe she had been fighting
for her life. She'd learned to be instinct driven, and instinct told
her to sink her teeth into the bastard.

        Heh, that was funny.
That's not all instinct had told her, though she was often said to be sexually
attracted to dirt. Funny how damn quick he'd gotten on her bad side,
wasn't it?

        And then, for some reason,
her thoughts moved to the graves. She really kind of hated to visit
Seifer's and Squall's "places of rest". They seemed... too restless
to be called that. Not "restless", really; the word "rest" almost
seems to have been a forgetting term. Something thrown at the dead
to justify the living moving on. But she would never forget her parents.
Moving on, living after, was... why people had children in the first place.
Living after but not forgetting was the ultimate honoring of the dead.
She'd no more apologize for that than anything she'd ever done.

        Except bite that bastard.
Not that she'd apologize. But she was actually starting to feel pretty
sorry about it.

        I want my world back,
damn you. Just words. Unspoken, but meant. Her life
was
interrupted. And she damn well didn't like it. Just when freedom
struck and things were looking up... but that's what happened to people,
wasn't it? Maybe not this sort of shit in particular, but...

        She cut off her conscious
thought altogether. It got her nowhere. It just hurt in an
endless cycle of ups and downs. She didn't want to think about herself,
and she didn't want to think about the pain her friends were going through.
She just didn't want to think. If this whole fucking mess had caused
any good, it was that with all of the stress and exhaustion, it was easy
to drown in sleep when you finally just shut the thoughts down.

        There was peace, for a while.
There was dark, calm sleep, swallowing her up. No deep R.E.M. sleep,
but that part didn't matter. Just being unconscious for the night...
it was all she asked for.

        Then it happened.
Some internal switch was tripped, some cue acknowledged. Jenova's
cold, deadly hands were around her mind again, squeezing. Another
memory--but much more dream-like this time. Through Sephiroth's eyes
she saw this... grotesque statue. It was a woman's face, made of
electronic parts and metal. Bleeding, somehow. Bleeding and
sparking... he/she was pulling, desperately trying to find out what was
behind it with unreal calm...

        There was a great gap in
the memory. How this became knowledge, she wasn't able to ask.
She just knew that the thing Sephiroth had uncovered was behind that mask,
advancing. Advancing on the fear and the hunger, the insanity lust
that was already settled there--

        She felt Jenova's consciousness
crashing into his/her mind, tearing it apart from the inside out.
The pain was so far beyond physical that she would later believe--when
she was able to think again--nothing fully human could ever have survived.

        Sephiroth screamed.
She heard it, she felt it; the scream was like nothing she'd ever heard
before. It wasn't entirely vocal, although why or how that was could
have been one of a million reasons beyond her understanding. His/her
body thrashed violently in the physical grasp of tentacles and other disgusting
things--writhing with things beyond their realm of existence. Warmth
and pain and screaming--

        And suddenly Sephiroth was
no longer there. It was just her, just Kyrie Almasy Leonhart,
twisting and screaming in the grasp of revolting things she'd never cared
to have known about. Even above the sounds of ripping, tearing, screaming--outweighing
the pain and the mental destruction--was the sound of Jenova's laughter.
It was everywhere, ringing in her ears and raging through the blood
that spilled and returned. The word "rape" held absolutely nothing
of what was happening to her. Part of her held hope that maybe if
she tried to call out, someone would hear her. Maybe. Just
maybe.

        Try as she might, she couldn't
move any longer of her own accord. Too much pain, too much violence
and mental agony to even remember who she was anymore. She wasn't
even sure if she was, at all. All senses had ceased.
All being... had stopped.

        She didn't bother to sit
up when she woke this time; just put a hand over her face and let go the
river of tears that had been threatening her all this while. It was
silent, completely quiet; but it was painful, draining and wet. She
was certain as the storm hit that she would not survive another of these
dreams. It was a wonder she woke up at all.

        The spill of emotion may
have taken minutes or hours--she wasn't sure, and she didn't care.
No one had bothered her, no one had interrupted. That's all that
mattered, all that counted.

        This is it, she was
able to think at last, fighting the silence. The tears were much
easier to wipe away than the claustrophobia seeming to edge in around her.
Invisible walls clasping, imprisoning... but the thought was clear and
complete. This is the last time I'll wake up as myself.
Probably the last time I'll wake up at all.

        "You aren't entirely
yourself right now." A familiar voice chimed emotionlessly in
her head.

        "Sephiroth."
She growled mentally. If she had the strength or will to move, she
certainly may have gone around smashing things. "Now you're
awake
with me, too? I might as well blow my own fucking brains out."

        "Now, now." He
chided. "That's not at all nice."

        "You'd have done it yourself
if you could have."

        "Yes. But that's
not quite the point, dear."

        She sighed in aggravation.
"'Dear.'
Yeah, that's funny." She started feeling those tears threatening
again--hotter, this time. Angrier.

        "Sssshhh..." his
mockingly gentle voice cooed almost tenderly in her head. "You
have a little time left before you're completely gone."

        "Gee thanks."
She hissed, composing herself. Pure hatred--she could run on that,
alright. Like a battery. Like a fucking mission in itself.
Sitting up, she listened closely for any sound or motion. Nothing.
Not at all. Maybe she could get a shower, then. She'd suddenly
had the overwhelming urge to bathe repeatedly.

        "Oh it's not so bad."
The voice in her head sounded amused. "Certainly not if you undress
slowly, in front of the mirror..."

        "Shut up."
This was so much worse than what she'd anticipated actually happening to
her.

        The long night of mostly
silence was interrupted by the sound of a door opening upstairs.
Everyone jumped a little--they hadn't really expected any movement that
early in the morning. Footsteps and the settling of wood, crossing
from the bedroom to the bathroom. That door closed slowly, locking.

        There was a dangerous flutter
of hope in Rodger's heart--in everyone's, really. Maybe it meant
a little while longer, just a little more time. Was that really so
much to ask for?

        Waiting. Silent, steady
waiting. Not a word uttered, and no eye contact. Just tense
listening, waiting for any sounds above their heads. Twenty minutes
of waiting, of breathing, of counting seconds and heartbeats--then the
water was shut off. So much to hope for. Too much. But
they couldn't help but think of it, want it.

        No prodding was necessary.
Rodger immediately stood and carefully climbed the stairs. He had
to know for sure, no matter the cost. No matter the outcome.

        "K-Kyrie?" she heard outside,
tentatively.

        She closed her eyes at the
pleading in Rodger's voice, the absolute hope. Sephiroth whispered,
"It
seems your entourage is waiting."

        "Fuck off."
She answered stingingly. With a deep breath, she turned and unlocked
the door. Not too fast, not too slow... she carefully turned
the knob and merely pulled at it with her fingertips, letting the door
swing in slowly on its own.

        Rodger took a long, careful
look at her. She was Kyrie, alright, looking very much the worse
for wear. Tired, cold, aggravated, clenching at the towel around
her with white knuckles.

        Hyne, the look in his eyes...
she could have broken down right there. Instead, she put all energy,
all thought, all effort into something resembling a grin. He wanted
to believe it, he'd make it real--but she'd make the effort. She
couldn't let this through, she couldn't put more weight on their shoulders.
They'd break. She couldn't let them break. "I think I've got
another day."

        How horrible.
She thought immediately after. This was false hope, and she knew
it. Even then... even one more day... But it might give them
a little rest. A little hope.

        There was a relief in his
eyes, but his chest remained tight. Maybe he knew better. Maybe...
but it didn't exactly matter right then. A little hope was enough.
He kissed her gently on the cheek and let a small, satisfied breath relax
him. "We'll be downstairs."

        "No doubt." She grinned
again, watching him go.

        "Why didn't you tell
him I was in your head?" the bastard almost sounded offended.

        She snorted quietly.
"What, you want me to introduce you?"

        "Keeping me a secret
won't do either of us any good."

        "It might do them some
good." She gazed longingly down at Rodger over the banister,
having just turned to enter the kitchen with the others. Turning
her eyes away, she walked the rest of the length to her bedroom. "Behave,
damn you."

        Her request was answered
with a smirking chuckle. "Just how long do you think you can hide
me?"

        "Maybe as long as it
takes." She sighed, rummaging through the closet.

        "Go for the black ensemble."
He suggested helpfully.

        She made a disgusted sound
in her throat--but decided to take his advice. Hey, it looked nice.
Especially with faded jeans. Simple, long sleeve, button-up, low
v-neck, shaped for a slightly feminine look. Nice funeral outfit.
It was part of her normal rotation, anyway. "How much time do
I really have?"

        "Until you let go."
He answered quietly.

        That didn't really do anything
to help her nerves. "Could you be more vague?"

        "It's your choice."
He responded without much conviction. "When you let go, that will
be the end."

        "Then what if I don't
let go?"

        Her question was met with
indignant laughter. "Sooner or later, you will be forced to.
You can't be on your guard forever."

        She had absolutely no desire
to continue that conversation. With a shake of her still damp hair,
she tried to compose herself enough to go downstairs. Just how long
could she keep this up for, she wondered. A while. Long enough
to give them all a little bit of hope, perhaps. Part of her would
feel awful doing that, though. As long as she could. She'd
stay "among them" for as long as she could. "Sit back and enjoy
the ride." She invited hatefully.

        Every step to the bottom
seemed to be a milestone--a marker, perhaps, of what was. She was
glad that the others were separated from her with the kitchen wall as she
left the last stair behind. Had anyone watched her careful descent,
they may have known instantly. She turned, taking a slow look around.
Home. It was just... home.

        "That's my sword."
Sephiroth commented smugly, seeing Masamune.

        "Yes it is."
She shot back. "And it's mine now."

        "At least mine is much
longer than the reject's." He teased.

        She tried not to be amused
at that. How rude, really. "You just shut up for a while,
alright?"

        "Do you not enjoy my
company?" he could sound almost sincere when he really tried.

        "Yeah, that's right."
She hissed. "I bet everyone wants a psycho who absolutely hates
them to the core of their being, living inside their head."

        "I do not hate
you, my dear." He answered too honestly to set her at ease.
"I would simply rather if I could control you. A strong will is not
as attractive as everyone would like to think."

        "You talk as if I give
a fuck." She spat.

        Their conversation was interrupted
with a loud clanging inside the kitchen. A chair and now some
plates and silverware. Might as well join this party. She
could use a little senseless destruction, herself.

        Across the room, turning
the corner and walking through the kitchen door, she found herself feeling
a little light-headed. It was... quite a scene here. Quite
a scene indeed. She had started to laugh before the full picture
hit her, leaning heavily against the door frame by the time her mind registered
all of it, and continuing to laugh. Near the sink, splattered all
over the windows and covering a great deal of the cabinets was what appeared
to be lumpy pancake batter. The stove itself was covered in the burned
remnants of what she could only assume were once attempted pancakes, the
fan area just above the stove blackened by char. And in the middle
of everything was Cloud Strife with a ripped apron, trying to pry a melted
plastic spoon from a pan, and Vincent trying to rinse the pancake batter
out of his hair under the kitchen faucet. Rodger was sitting at the
table with his feet up, hands behind his head, watching.

        She wanted to save them
from themselves. She really did. But she just couldn't stop
laughing. She even heard a dull chuckle coming from Sephiroth at
the back of her mind, but no comments were made. That was perfectly
alright.

        "I think we'll have pizza
again." Rodger muttered, seeing his great idea still exploding into
flames in front of him--luckily the literal ones had all been taken care
of. They'd simply need a new stove, some new cookware, and to keep
Cloud and Vincent out of the kitchen at all costs. Oh yeah--and he
ought to keep his bright ideas to himself.

        Kyrie tried to catch her
breath while fanning herself. At least that had kept the chills at
bay for a while. The nasty thoughts were squashed out, too; more
than likely that much had been planned. Maybe not as perfectly as
it had actually happened, but...

        Just as she had made the
genuine effort to compose herself, she bore witness to Vincent's dripping
wet head and began to laugh again. Granted there were many things
regarding that particular thing to laugh about--best of which was that
whole drowned rat look he had to him. He mumbled an incoherent blue
streak as he passed her about his hair, his wet suit, and the need for
a towel and another set of clothes.

        Rodger all too kindly called
after him, "You can borrow anything you'd like from the left side of the
closet."

        This caused another set
of mumblings up the stairs. A T-shirt and jeans man, Vincent was
not.

        Kyrie actually had to force
herself not to follow behind. Hyne damn the son of a bitch in her
head to the farthest reaches of hell--he was making the normally extremely
enjoyable things more difficult. Were she "safe" she could playfully
attempt to scare the shit out Vincent... or better.

        Rodger gave her an incredibly
teasing look to which Sephiroth apparently felt compelled to comment inside
his "vessel": "Creature after my own heart."

        "You better not fucking
be directing that at me." She growled, trying to maintain her
outward appearance of amused and easy going.

        He laughed, then remained
silent once more. Not the most comforting answer, by far.

        Cloud apologetically threw
the cooled pan, spoon still stuck to it, into the trash. "I'll call
for the pizza."

        "Speed dial 1." Rodger
grinned.

        Sitting at the kitchen table
in wait (short a chair, granted), the rest of the group sat in absolute
silence as footsteps traveled back down the stairs. Waiting.
Anticipating. But the steps stopped just outside the kitchen, suddenly
noting the complete lack of sound.

        "Oh come on." Kyrie
dared him quietly, overcome with the need to see what he'd picked from
Rodger's "collection".

        Being waited for, expected,
was not one of Vincent's favorite things, either. He sighed, however,
knowing there was no escape. He'd have to show them eventually.
Why the hell hadn't he packed another suit? He didn't think he'd
need it, that's why. And he certainly never thought he'd be wearing
this...
A ragged sigh was his surrender.

        Kyrie heard a steady stream
of chuckling inside of her head. Truly amused chuckling. She
couldn't really keep it in herself. Hey, he looked damn good in dark
blue jeans and a dark gray tee, but... it was so unlike him. Apparently
Sephiroth agreed.

        Vincent just sighed at the
less than silent reactions. It wasn't exactly an insult, but even
he could only take so much open abuse.

        "Lookin' good." Cloud
grinned like a moron. Never in a million millennia...

        Damn good.
Kyrie would have liked to have broken in with.

        "I'm going to wait for the
pizza." Vincent tried to maintain his dignity--by removing himself
from the situation entirely.

        Ah, morning pizza.
It reminded one of Garden days. Not many of them, though. Kyrie
and Rodger had only been able to get so many pizzas inside the Garden before
they felt forced to seek it "on the outside". The Headmaster simply
would not have approved. And certainly not have liked the fact that
every once in a while Quistis would be invited to join them.

        "Fond memories..."
Sephiroth teased viciously.

        "Didn't I tell you to
shut up?" Kyrie snapped, unwilling to have the humor and fun ripped
away from her so quickly.

        "A little girl like you
issues no order to me." He growled quietly. All of a sudden,
his mood seemed to shift from attack to something resembling... fondness.

"You should hold on to those memories."

        "Didn't you tell me I'd
be fine until I was 'ready'?"

        "That's correct..."

        "Well I'm not fucking
ready yet." She assured, trying very hard not to let any of her
true emotion fill her face. The last thing she wanted to do was worry
her friends at this point...

        "Looking for your happily
ever after, princess?" he mocked. "Think you deserve it, do
you?"

        "I damn well think I
do, yes."

        He laughed with a sharp,
dangerous edge, prodding her further. "Think your parents earned
it for you?"

        "I earned it for my damn
self already." She threw back, tensing. "Where is my fucking
happily ever after?"

        The two companions on either
side of her paused and looked over. It had come out of seemingly
nowhere, for no reason they could comprehend. It was a whisper, certainly,
but...

        Her teeth clicked together,
and instantly she plastered as sincere of a nonchalant, humored look as
she could on her face. "Ahem. Just thinking out loud.
Gotta let some of the frustration through, right?"

        "Is that a point for
me?" Sephiroth dripped with accomplishment.

        "No." She hissed
simply.

        Luckily something seemed
to be smiling down upon her, just a bit. The doorbell rang and pizza
was delivered to the hungry. For certain there'd be another pizza
boy requesting not to be on deliveries to that particular house again.
Vincent was frightening enough when he was in a perfectly fine mood.

        "What is this foul stuff?"

        Kyrie actually tried to
suppress that grin. It was too devious, really. "What, don't
like it? It's pizza."

        "It is foul."
He repeated.

        "Good." She
shot back. "I love it. And here comes the cola. Choke
on it."

        "Uck. I just might."

        She swallowed another mouthful
quickly, getting that unpleasant burning sensation in her throat.
It was worth it, though. Another large bite of pizza took care of
it.

        "Ha, see?" Cloud pointed.
"Insanity makes you hungry!"

        At least that broke a bit
of tension. "The accused" only gave him a smirk and took another
swig of cola. Feeling Sephiroth's distaste made her feel even better.
"You ought to know." She gave in, jokingly.

        "That's what I'm saying."
The blonde grinned back.

        She really did have to give
Cloud credit. Sometimes he didn't seem like the sharpest tack (brightest
bulb, shiniest penny, et all), but he wasn't stupid by a long shot.
Just... a little oblivious to the world every once in a while. At
least Vincent finally had an appeased, amused look on his face. And
Rodger was just plain close to relaxed at long last, enjoying this whole
thing.

        "He is a moron, you know."
Sephiroth commented regarding Cloud. "Underneath it all, he really
is just a moron."

        Kyrie let the smallest hint
of a vicious grin pass over her face. "And you're so above that,
are you?"

        He actually seemed to be
a bit offended. Enough so not to have responded right away, at least.

"You are passing, you know."

        Her heart pounded
for a moment. He'd been right. She was... sort of releasing.
She'd been so damn desperate just to give her friends a moment or normalcy,
to make them forget... that she had almost been ready to let go in the
midst of it all, giving them a good, "normal" last memory of her.
She'd caught herself, though. Or, more threatening, he'd caught
her. What the hell did he care, anyway?

        She tried to thrust that
thought away from her, finishing her meal. Last meal.
She tried to hold her thoughts back in desperation. Hyne, I think
I can feel it...

        "Afraid?" the bitter
voice in her head prodded ever so slightly.

        She didn't answer.
She honestly wasn't sure. At all. Putting her plate on the
coffee table, she had to bite her tongue to keep her hands from shaking.
They felt... disconnected, like she was in a deep fever. But of course,
only that arctic chill rippled over her skin. And she damn well knew
she could fight it. And she damn well knew she could win again for
a couple of hours. But before that, there might be more questions.
More concerns. More chances not to have left them with a fondness
of memory.

        But how cruel was it to
leave them like that? Fondness, yes, but--a sudden end to the calm
moments seemed so horrible. She ought to know. She remembered
what it had been like in the moments before Squall's death... Not
that it was all that much of a calm moment in time, really. But by
comparison, in a way...

        She was grasping, and she
knew it. Her mind was slowly sinking into a toxic ooze, and she felt
every moment of it. The cold was stronger, now. A death grip
seemed to be clutching near the back of her skull, and she could feel Sephiroth's
presence even more clearly.

        Damn you... her mind
hissed... but whether it was directed toward Sephiroth, Jenova or herself,
she really couldn't tell. She just looked for an instant at her friends
around her, assuring herself they couldn't see it. She didn't want
them to catch it just yet. Not until she'd have to... go.

        Oh, Rodger... her only love
interest, ever. Sure many a creature was attractive to her, but she
could never have fallen in love with any of them. Not like that.
And to have him love back... wow. She'd miss him, dammit. Quite
a lot. He was her partner in crime in every sense of the phrase.

        What was there to say of
Vincent? She knew so little and so much at the same time. They
had... a weird relationship. But she rather liked it that way.
And could only assume he didn't mind, either.

        And Cloud... well, he was...
one of a kind. Maybe that was a laughable way to put it, but it was
true. He was part of her very foundation, whether he knew it or not.

        She suddenly felt Sephiroth
soften as he looked upon the image of Cloud Strife sinking into the corner
of the sofa, looking like he hadn't slept in months. There was something
there that she didn't know, didn't understand; something she'd never seen
before in those depths, nor could have ever imagined. She pressed
for it mentally, searching.

        "No." Sephiroth
responded harshly. "This is mine."

        "You think you have a
right to keep this away from me after all the shit you've put me through?"
Kyrie hissed back. "You've already 'shared' a lot I'd rather have
never seen. So let go of this. We don't have anything to hide
anymore, anyway."

        "No." He insisted
again, though softer. "No, I don't want to remember it.
Not again."

        "Fuckin' tough."
If she was going to leave everything she knew and loved anyway, she may
as well go down with all of the knowledge she could grasp for.

        "Please..."

        "You are begging
me
this time. I hope that's not lost on you."

        "You can't!" he continued
to insist desperately. "You can't do this!"

        "If you're part of me
now, then I assume I'm part of you, too. And in that case... I can
and I will." What exactly took place after that... well, she
wasn't sure. She'd never quite felt anything like that. Maybe
it was the Sorceress blood finally clinging to her, causing some sort of
energy to strike all over her body. Maybe it was just the "letting
go" that he'd spoken of. Whatever it was... it happened in a heartbeat.

        She felt her body
fall away from her. It had never been that clear before, never that...
frightening. But then she'd never been so awake and completely aware
when similar things had happened before--and this time she knew it was
no illusion, no dream. She knew without a doubt that this time...
was it. She may not return. She distantly felt her lips
move to something like "Don't wait up for me" before her body simply fell
away. She was in Sephiroth, now--was a part of the man in
mind, without body.   There was a ripping, tearing pain thrust
through the back of her head. It was a mental mergence of sorts,
a... complete combination. Were she not in so much pain, she'd have
been more frightened at that moment than at any other time in her life.
In a sense, this
was death. And she was conscious for it.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Retribution Nor Redemption