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Retribution Nor Redemption	By : wickedorin Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 622 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
Note to AFF.net readers:
        Okay.
Here's the second part of The Sins of Two Fathers universe (and
many to follow, it seems). It's... "different", I think. Not
necessarily a bad thing. Some disturbign stuff, to put it lightly,
but likely nothing you haven't already read/thought about. We'll
see, won't we?

"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 1

by Orin Drake
        I had that dream again.
She typed. She was sure he probably didn't want to hear about it,
but she'd tell him anyway. He was her captive audience, after all.
She waited for his response while pouring herself some coffee. Squall
had been right; it was an addictive form of pure, liquid energy.
Who knew energy was brown-black?

        Of Hojo's lab?
Appeared on the screen with a whining computerized beep.

        Yeah. She typed
back. Everything was the same. Except this time I think
I saw Sephiroth as a kid.She sent the message
on with a shiver. As an afterthought, she added, And it was damn
disturbing.

        The response came faster
than usual. As a kid? That IS disturbing.

        I can't imagine what
his childhood must have been like. If my dreams are anything like
Hojo's real lab. She typed, trying to shake the images from her
head. It was like every awful horror movie mad scientist's torture
chamber; only far too real. Things in jars, half alive, and humans
with bits and pieces removed and replaced with wires, if at all.

        They are.Assured
the screen. Too accurate.

        She really preferred not
to think about it anymore. She'd have time for that later, during
the assembly. How are you holding up?

        Okay. But I'm still
hungry.

        She chuckled to herself.
That
must be annoying as hell.

        Even through the thousands
of miles distance, only computers to connect them, the sarcasm came through.
Thank
you. Your concern warms my prison.

        She laughed. I'M
not the one that chose to get imprisoned with a psycho.

        And I can't even talk
to the head. The screen complained.

        That's what I'm here
for. She joked.

        It's almost 7.
Her bedside alarm beeped twice to reassure her that was true.

        She groaned. Yeah,
it is. I guess I'll talk to you later. Try not to get too bored.

        I'll do what I can.
At least I can read stuff.

        She was so incredibly glad
she'd given him the computer. Take care, Cloud. She
typed while getting up. She certainly didn't want to be late for
this particular assembly. She just might be able to graduate with
the rest of her class. Gently giving a tug to the little device located
in the disk drive, she placed the communication transponder in her pocket.
Lucky Cloud; she could use it to talk to him from any system-linked computer.
Being granddaughter of the President of Esthar, she had a lot of access
codes for a lot of said computer systems.

        But, all was not perfect.
She still didn't know if she had the grades to graduate. She could
only assume that if she didn't, Quistis would have told her already.
But then, the Headmaster still didn't like her very much. Mr. Sir
Yessir was none too pleased when Quistis made the suggestion Kyrie
and Rodger move in together in one of the larger, fancier than average
doubles. Kyrie herself was shocked to have heard Quistis actually
made the suggestion at all. But she certainly didn't mind in the
least. Fact was, the Headmaster had said absolutely not, no way,
not in this Garden, at no time. So they simply decided not to tell
him.

        It was best not to think
about that man any more than she had to this morning, she decided.
They'd have to go sit through a long, boring... well, whatever the hell.
It didn't matter, they wouldn't be listening until the announcement about
who was graduating. And even then they'd probably miss that part,
so... what was the point? Ah yes, that's right. If you did
not attend, you automatically did not graduate. That... sucked.

        Kyrie strapped on Eleison
and stretched widely. Too early, even with the second cup of coffee.
And... where was Rodger? She walked by the bathroom and heard the
shower still running. So, she knocked loudly on the door. "Rodger,
ten til seven!"

        The shower shut off instantly,
then several thumps as he leapt out and tried to dry himself off while
dressing. "Dammit..." he murmured.

        "What were you doing in
there?" she asked far too innocently, grinning from ear to ear.

        "Planning your overthrow."
He joked, dancing out on one leg as he tried to get his pants on mid-run.

        "Riding bareback, are we?"
she teased calmly.

        "Shit." He bounced
back in, this time trying to take the pants back off--he'd forgotten his
briefs.

        Pure amusement. It
was a thing they had together. Against everyone. Once in a
while another person could share it with them; but it was always the same
people, really. No one new, because no one new ever talked to either
of them without being forced. They could handle that. They
were both psuedo-celebrities and all that.

        More or less completely
ready, Kyrie simply sat on the bed and watched him go at it, dressing and
drying and cursing himself for taking his time and being late. It
was far from the first time this scene had taken place. And still
she never failed to be greatly amused by it. He impressed her by,
for once, not putting his shirt on inside out or backwards, then by putting
his boots on the right feet. "More awake than usual, are we?"

        He bounced around a little
more before answering her, getting everything in relative order before
they left. "Just dumb luck."

        "Good. We can go with
that today." She took a deep breath and walked to the door.
The threshold. In a few minutes, they'd know for sure whether or
not they'd have to spend another godawful semester being stared at.
Or glared at, in the Headmaster's case.

        Rodger gave her a tight
hug from behind. "Here goes absolutely nothing."

        "You said it." She
agreed, forcing herself not to get nervous. Not that she had a lot
to be nervous about, she supposed. After all, they had people on
high authority to vouch for them. But then Headmaster Immorien was
"greatly concerned" that they be "treated fairly". Asshole.

        They walked out together
amid the flood of other nervous students. It wasn't a pretty sight,
really. Some of the most confident people were shaking and looking
around like lost children. Graduation from Garden wasn't hard, per
se, but many of them had hoped to continue their education in various secondary
Garden programs in other places. Their grades would make the decision
for them.

        Kyrie and Rodger didn't
exactly have the same concerns. They were less than interested in
a continued education in Garden terms. Hell, Kyrie's grandfather
was the fucking president of Esthar, they had jobs set up for them anywhere
and anytime they wanted. Being graduates of Garden simply gave them
some artificial clout among the "high breeds" of the world, frankly.
And if they were interested in more combat training, Quistis was always
available.

        As if summoned, the instructor
appeared from between the waves of students, waiting by the doorway to
the assembly hall. Through the crowd she pushed, feeling rather that
she was trying to get to shore in a raging sea. None of the students
seemed to see her, much more concerned with their own futures. How
rude, really.

        "Quisty!" Kyrie greeted
a little louder than usual thanks to the worried din around them.

        Instructor Trepe looked
dully at Rodger's hair. "Not quite ready this morning, are we?"

        He looked up at what she'd
commented about, not even remembering to have combed the mess, let alone
really dried it. "Um... no."

        Quistis grinned softly.
"Well, I don't think anyone will notice. Unless they look."
She took a quick glance at the rest of the crowd around them, then turned
back to Rodger. "It appears you're in good company when it comes
to hair style, anyway."

        "I'd hate to be out of style."
He remarked deadpan.

        Kyrie grinned and elbowed
him softly. "Do we slip you a few Gil now or what?"

        Her aunt giggled and shook
her head in mock disapproval. "I only wish I had say in this.
I have a good feeling, though."

        Those words were taken into
careful consideration. Not that Quistis was a psychic by any stretch
of the imagination, but she usually had a very good gut instinct.
"I hold you to that." Kyrie joked.

        The instructor only smiled
knowingly. They both had the grades to get the hell out. The
only thing that could possibly hold them back was the Headmaster's personal
opinion. And should the need arise, Quistis would risk her
job for them. Hopefully that would never have to happen, though.
Who else would ever hire her? "Well, you two better grab a couple
of good seats."

        The couple breathed a collective
sigh of hopelessness. Given that the gibbering of the worried students
was only getting louder, they merely waved to Quistis and walked on.
She gave them two thumbs up and waved back, crossing her fingers.
She then hoped, seeing them disappear into the assembly hall, that it wasn't
a misconstrued gesture... then started chuckling.

        They sat in their usual place--far
away from everyone else. The hall was meant to hold all students
from all classes (though they were already planning an expansion for the
next year), so it wasn't hard to find empty seats at all. They still
seemed to remain in their chosen place, their very essence apparently keeping
everyone at least five seats away in all directions. Not a bad thing.

        There was a nervous rush
of conversation from all around them as they waited for the lights to go
down and the fires of hell to burst through the stage--or for the Headmaster
to walk in. It was clear that the pile of rolled up papers at the
central pedestal contained many tickets out, and many more right back in.
It looked like there were plenty for everyone, but looks could be deceiving.
The hall was utterly crawling with murmurs of the ones who thought perhaps
they'd been ignored this time around.

        And then the clear, crisp
sounds of overpriced shoes began from the staff entrance. Headmaster
Immorien walked in confidently, his lapdog, Assistant Headmaster Evaan,
in his shadow. Footstep after footstep lead the room into utter silence,
the entire collection of students watching, waiting--save Kyrie and Rodger,
who were silently thumb wrestling to pass the time it took for the bloated
bastard to start speaking.

        The words from the Headmaster
rolled over the room like thunder. "These next few moments may well
determine your future."

        Hushed awe erupted and fell.
Kyrie won twice in a row and was going for the third. Everyone was
waiting for a signal, an appraisal, to be told where to go and who to thank
for it.

        "Anna Arporoe." He
called, holding out one of the scripts.

        Ah, alphabetical order.
Fantastic, they had plenty of time to kill. "Three times in a row."
Kyrie whispered triumphantly. "You owe me... a muffin."

        Rodger grinned, keeping
his voice low. "I call cheating. Unfairness of some kind."

        The booming names continued
to rattle off until finally the Headmaster shouted, "Rodger Kinneas."

        Taking a deeply comical
breath, Rodger strutted up to the front and hoped for the best. He
sensed the eyes of the whole room watching him, waiting for something to
happen. Headmaster Immorien only handed him the diploma, giving his
hand a quick shake and sending him on his way.

        It was... very uneventful,
really. The key out of the dungeon in his hand, and there had been
no thunder. No earthquake, no natural disasters, no fires of hell;
just paper. Not that he minded. It was his, and he had
graduated.
He put the rolled piece of paper under his arm, and continued with the
thumb wrestling challenge.

        After several more matches
("to the death"), Kyrie's name was finally uttered. It wasn't quite
what she'd expected, either. Why, Mr. Sir Yessir seemed... what?
Relieved? So did the rest of the room, frankly. And she herself
was glad for it. Stepping up in her usual ensemble, Eleison included,
she held her hand out and smiled as politely as she possibly could.
She still hated his guts, his breath, the ground he stepped on and most
of all him, but she'd sure as hell shake his hand to assure she'd
be getting far, far away from him. Graduating. With honors
in weaponry and combat, she discovered as she opened it on her way back
to the thumb wrestling finals. Whoo fucking hoo. It paid to
have dates in the training grounds. That and learning how to pick
the lock on the door when they grew sick of restocking the monsters.

        Taking her lead, Rodger
ignored the rest of the room and opened his own. Wow, he'd gotten
quite the excellent grade in algebra. How the hell did that happen?
No matter; he had the diploma in his hand, and there was no way he was
letting go of it. Out, they were out. They'd only to
wait until the end of the day and it was official. Hell, it was official
the moment the assembly ended. It wasn't as if either of them were
eager to take part in the actual public ceremony, so why stick around an
extra two days when they could get the hell out then?

        Of course, they still had
to move out of the dorm. That wasn't a big deal. It'd take
a couple of days to get the house ready and actually transfer their collected
stuff, but at least they wouldn't have to be in class during those times.
Living in that house again would be... weird. Especially without
Seifer and Squall... but now wasn't the time to think about it. Now
was the time to win the thumb wrestling death match all stars challenge
of a lifetime.

        When all names were uttered
that would be granted permission to move on, there were a couple of disgusted
sighs. The Headmaster only assured them that another semester would
somehow make them smarter and stronger, but most of them were already out
of their seats and headed for the door by that point in time. Kyrie
and Rodger in the lead, of course.

        Quistis met them just outside
in a faculty hallway, away from the student mob that was making so much
noise that it was hard to think, let alone talk. She was leaning
against the wall with a big, proud smile on her face, having heard everything.

        "We graduate!" Rodger
said in amazement. "We made it."

        "And you know what that
means." Kyrie attempted to lead her aunt into some sort of private
party idea. Few things were more mind-blowing than watching Quistis
drink everyone else to shame.

        The older woman maintained
her elegant composure. "Lots of celebratory rockin'?"

        Kyrie and Rodger exchanged
a shocked expression. Then she turned back to her aunt with a vibrant
grin and stated, "You're such a classy lady, Quisty."

        "Damn straight!" she giggled.
"I suppose you two will be going out tonight to celebrate?"

        "Possibly." Kyrie
agreed. "And then we start moving the hell out of here."

        The instructor nodded.
"Well, let me know if you need anything."

        "Not another crate for quite
some time, thanks." Rodger could help but break up a little at the
end of that sentence.

        What was really great, regardless
of being quite lazy and meaningless, was just laying there like lumps on
the dorm bed, watching television on the same computer screen that Kyrie
had originally hooked up. Technically Rodger still lived in the other
dorm with his roommate. But he hadn't even seen that guy in well
over a year, let alone kept any of his things in there. Life was
good when everyone was just a little afraid of you.

        "Let's take the Jet to Esthar
tonight." Kyrie suggested after a particularly awful soap opera.
"I want to tell everyone before they hear it from... well, the rest of
the world. Then we can eat."

        "Okay." Rodger agreed
eagerly. "I like the Jet."

        "You like the lingerie store
that took over Cloud's old shop, is what you like." She teased.
He just stared at her for a period of time in suggestive silence.
"Alright. Me too."

        "At least I don't
spend money there." He threw back.

        "That's right." She
agreed seriously. "You make a lot of suggestions, though."

        Rodger let a smug grin cross
his face. "Aw, you just want to see Mr. Valentine."
He spoke the man's name breathily.

        "Vinnie." She corrected
in good humor.

        "But you like to
call him Mr. Valentine." He continued to tease.

        "I'd like to call him a
lot of things." She grinned.

        Oh, this was getting raunchy.
"Like... 'Master'? Or maybe 'slut'?" He winked at her.

        "Little bit of both, lovely."
She couldn't even pretend to be shocked. This was too amusing.
"'Bitch' is still yours, though. Always will be."

        "I feel loved." He
responded, getting his things together. Hell, they may as well leave
right away. Why wait? Thanks to the new Jet train, they could
make it there in about twenty to thirty minutes depending on the weight
of the passengers. The past four years had seen quite a growth in
business on Esthar, let alone in the city itself. So if Laguna or
Vincent were actually busy, they could wander around without getting the
least bit bored until they were available to bother. Hell, maybe
they could even convince Kiros to wander around with them before he finally
had a nervous breakdown. They'd tried before, without success.
Either way, it might be fun to watch.

        With a Jet leaving for Esthar
every hour, they arrived right on time to catch the early evening shuttle.
Not too shabby for having taken their sweet time in getting there.
They even lucked out with an almost empty train, meaning a faster arrival
time. With all of this luck, they were starting to get nervous that
something was going to go horribly wrong with the train.

        Strangely enough, they arrived
safe and sound at Esthar Station to the sounds of some already celebrating
students wandering around. It was obvious most of them had been to
the station's bar on the other end. They gave the drunks a wide berth,
making their way down the other end and to the Presidential Estate.

        Kyrie didn't even bother
presenting her card anymore. The guards knew who she was. If
it wasn't obvious enough by Griever around her neck, they were quite sure
to see Eleison at her side. It was like being known without being
famous. And she found she didn't mind so much. She was neither
the hero nor the villain; she just was.

        By now, even Rodger had
learned his way around in the great and fantastic maze of hallways.
It took quite some time and effort, but he had been able to memorize most
of it. Besides, he was sure that if he ever got lost, he could just
start screaming. Someone was bound to hear him.

        Up lifts, down hallways,
darting between "paper boys" that were hired over Garden break to aid in
the paper work--it was much less like a maze and more like a sadistic sport.
Seemed people were actually being put to use around here for once.
It was rarely a busy place.

        As expected, they ran into
Kiros in the hallway right in front of Laguna's office, in the middle of
a dozen or so tasks. He looked a bit surprised rather than stressed
or annoyed (a rare occurrence to have any other sort of look to give),
and actually took the time to greet them. "Ms. Leonhart, Mr. Kinneas.
You two weren't expected."

        "Hence this being referred
to as a surprise visit." Kyrie joked. Every time she looked
at him she could just feel his heartbeat going at light speed with
all of the things he put upon himself. If that man didn't sit down
and relax soon, or at least get a decent night of sleep--

        "I'm afraid I must get some
more paperwork done for a visit from the Trabia government." He sliced
off her thoughts instantly, already beginning to walk off down the hall.

        "I'm changing my pool decision
to heart attack." She whispered.

        Rodger gave her an amused
look. "I'm still convinced it'll be bleeding to death by paper cuts."

        "Think we ought to tell
him that even Laguna is in on his death pool?" she pondered out loud, turning
to knock on the office door.

        "Some day." He agreed.
"Just let me put money on death by broken heart, first."

        Instantly as the door opened,
Laguna's voice enveloped them. "Kiros, for Hyne's sake will you just
calm the f--oh! Kyrie! Rodger! Come in!" He stood
up from his piles of paperwork instantly and held his arms out.

        It wasn't as if he didn't
see them just a week earlier; and a week before that, and so on.
But Laguna had a way of making them feel like the most welcomed visitors
he ever had. And, frankly, Kyrie didn't really mind. Free coffee,
a number of pastry treats and some interesting conversation were always
sure to come of a visit to the estate. She walked up and gave him
a hug, feeling the familiar creaking of her spine and ribs at his monstrous
squeeze.

        "You too, Rodger."
Laguna joked, holding his arms even wider.

        "No thanks, Sir."
He put his hands up in defense. "I'd rather not have my back popped
again. Twice in a row."

        The president made a dismissing
gesture. "None of this 'Sir' stuff. Just Laguna, you know that."

        "Yeah. I do, Sir."
Rodger grinned, taking a seat.

        Laguna put his hands on
his hips and regarded the two of them. "Well, don't keep me in suspense."

        "We made it." Kyrie
announced proudly.

        "Excellent!" Laguna clapped
his hands together, causing a few of the papers to scatter to the floor.
He stared at them, hands on his hips, shaking his head. "All the
technology in the world and we still need to keep paper files."

        "Work to do, Sir?" Rodger
teased.

        "I'm afraid so." The
president sat back down at his desk, measuring the piles of paper with
his eyes. "And this is going to take a bit. It's just for the
visit, though. I'm sure Vincent is in need of some entertainment..."

        Kyrie caught Rodger's almost
lewd glimpse, but pretended not to have noticed. "I guess we'll go
bug him for a while, then."

        "It was good to see you
both, though!" Laguna assured. "I'm sure we'll see more of you two
when you get moved into the house."

        "What? Once a week
isn't enough?" his granddaughter joked.

        "Afraid not." Laguna
admitted. He rose and walked around to hug her before she could take
off without the sentiment. "But you two stop by on your way home,
okay?"

        "No problem." Rodger
assured, already on his way out the door.

        "Get back here!" the president
joked. "I owe you two back breakers!"

        "Gotta catch me first!"
Rodger called from halfway down the hall.

        "You'll just have to do
it for me." Laguna winked at his granddaughter.

        "Back breakers. Gotcha."
She didn't dare comment any further on that point. "We'll be back."

        Finding Vincent's office
was even more of a mind-twisting experience. It was a lot easier
to get there from Laguna's office than it was from the entrance, but they
still seemed to get lost from time to time. It was sad, really, that
they hadn't learned all of the turns by now. Maybe it was even more
sad that they were building yet another edition onto the estate for yet
more paper filing purposes. At least seeing the construction area
gave them an indication of where they were.

        After a count of how many
water coolers they'd passed, they were finally quite sure that they'd found
the proper office. Kyrie knocked, knowing that that seemed to be
more her style than anyone else's. With no response, she buzzed.
Still nothing. She and Rodger looked at one another, wondering if
they'd gotten lost again, when she felt a heavy, cold WHUMP.

        After the initial start,
Kyrie turned with a laugh. "Dammit, Vincent, I'll never get used
to that."

        He only grinned, taking
his cold metal claw off of the side of her neck. All of that silent
stalking and assassin edge from years passed put to good use, eh?

        Rodger kept his mouth shut
about certain details, as he always did around Mr. Valentine. It
was later that he'd get his fair chance to tease. "Slow day?" he
inquired.

        Vincent opened the office
door with a touch of the keypad, motioning them in before him. "Not
really. But one does need entertainment from time to time.
Unfortunately, the two of you came along."

        Kyrie pretended to be hurt
by that comment. Vincent had been working for her grandfather almost
ever since she'd introduced them, head of an intelligence office doing
mostly training for field work. He'd since cut his hair and gained
a bit of color and... emotion, actually. Snappy dresser and attractive
personality... once you got past the cold stares (Kyrie, of course, could
toss them back without a second thought). He really seemed to enjoy
the work. It gave him something to do with a good amount of privacy.

        "Well?" Vincent inquired,
as if he needed to ask.

        "We, are, graduating."
She responded triumphantly.

        He sat back in his desk
chair, his eyes bright with a smile. "I thought as much." He
admitted wryly. "Seems that was good money spent."

        Kyrie smirked at the joke.
She'd grown to appreciate the man more and more. Even though he often
got quite a few sharply edged jokes in on her. Lucky it was a friendly
competition.

        "No faith in us at all."
Rodger sighed, pretending to be heartbroken.

        "What, no gift?" Kyrie joked.

        "Of course not." Vincent
responded seriously, sitting forward and leaning the slender fingers of
his right hand against the metal ones of his left. "You're both living
in sin. You ought to be ashamed."

        The couple looked at one
another for a moment. Rodger's laugh ultimately broke their eye contact.
"If that's not the worst kind of pressure..."

        Vincent grinned like a shark.
Just
trying to be helpful. "I do hate to inform you two that I've
got quite a bit of work to catch up on before the Trabia visit..."

        "Laguna got rid of us, too."
Kyrie faked a sob.

        "At least someone appreciates
you." The man indicated Rodger with a subtle tap of a clawed finger
on the desk.

        "Who?" the indicated boyfriend
asked.

        "Damned if I know."
Vincent grinned. "But shall I assume I will see the two of you after
the storm of filing and paper has passed?"

        "Not after that."
Kyrie joked, crossing her arms.

        "Suit yourself." The
former Turk invited.

        "Ah, but that makes it far
too easy on you." She used a slightly threatening tone. "Maybe
I should get a job here."

        "You are welcome to."
Vincent said seriously. "But only if it's on the other side of the
building."

        "You are a cold, cruel man."
She grinned.

        "Then get out." He
joked, pointing toward the door. "And don't bother coming back until
the stars have exploded."

        "Alright." She agreed,
getting up and walking out.

        Rodger just shook his head,
trying to stifle a chuckle. He knew too much to begin with, but this
was just funny either way.

        "And Kyrie, Rodger." Vincent
called. "Take care."

        "You, too." She gave
him a middle finger of appreciation and ducked out into the hallway.

        "And I thought our relationship
was fucked up to the vast majority of the world." Rodger joked when
they were well out of range.

        "Yeah." She agreed.
"But you and me, we don't have the same kind of sexual tension."

        He laughed. And laughed.
And had to stop walking and lean against the wall for a moment as he continued
to laugh.

        "Now that just hurts."
Kyrie nudged him, feeling his laughter spread like a disease.

        After the bout of insanity
was finally over (and several of the guards had come to see what all the
noise was about), the two of them heard Rodger's stomach growl. It
was actually likely that the sound could be heard through the walls.
Once or twice a week, they escaped Garden for food. Now it
was time to fill up.

        "Oh, cafeteria visit."
She commented happily.

        "I'm not sure we can find
our way there." He was still giggling, wiping tears away from his
eyes. "Sexual tension." He repeated before falling into another
round of chuckles.

        "You heard me." She
teased, making an attempt to lead the way.

        The cafeteria in the Presidential
Estate was one hell of a fantastic departure from the one at Garden.
Firstly, there were several little restaurants off to the side, each with
their own inside and outside eating lounges. Then there was the central
area, where you could take something from the restaurants to eat, or get
something delivered to your table from that day's regular menu. Such
a nice place, with nice food. Today, it seemed, most people were
busy with the paperwork. There were a few full tables, but for the
most part the place was really abandoned.

        As they entered, there was
a man off to the side that caught Kyrie's eye. Probably because he
had been looking at her with an expression of recognition. In the
space of all of two seconds, she went through her mind to place him as
a threat or enemy, but came up with nothing. He looked friendly enough,
and he was already in the process of walking over. Well, what the
hell. New people were always welcomed. Until they said something
stupid or fucked up in some way.

        "Miss Leonhart." The
man greeted warmly, holding his hand out.

        There was something distantly
familiar about this man. From an old photo, maybe? He was about
her parents' age. She reached out and shook his hand, noticing an
officer's pilot badge on his uniform. "Sir?"

        He smiled, nodding slightly.
"I'm Nida Matsuro. I attended Garden with your parents," he nodded
to Rodger, "And served under Squall Leonhart during the war."

        Her eyes lit, recalling
the name. She'd heard about him, as well as seen some pictures.
"You flew Balamb Garden."

        He nodded again, the smile
growing even wider. "Ah, so you've heard of me." He chuckled
quietly. "I thought, since I was grounded here for the time being,
I would come by and congratulate you on graduating. And offer my
condolences. But that's somewhat depressing, don't you think?"

        She thought she could get
along with this guy. "Most definitely. Do you have time to
get a bite to eat?" she invited, genuinely interested in a little more
conversation.

        Nida simply beamed at the
suggestion. "I would love to. That is, if Mr. Kinneas wouldn't
mind."

        Oh, would he ever
be teasing Kyrie about this later. But for now, he would remain his
polite, charming self. The self she insisted he didn't show her anymore.
"I don't mind at all. It would be nice to have someone else agreeing
with us about... anything."

        "Yeah, just smile and nod
your head, and everything will be alright." Kyrie joked.

        The pilot smiled in good
humor. "I'm very good at that by now." He indicated the table
right next to them that, by sheer coincidence, was a three-seater.

        Kyrie sat to the man's right,
and Rodger's left. "How did you know we graduated?"

        Nida smiled shyly and pointed
to the announcement panel at the other end of the cafeteria. The
three of them just caught the end of one of the repeating messages "from
the office of the President": "Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas graduate
from Garden! Congratulations, kids!" A bunch of happy flashing
smilie faces followed before the next message flashed across.

        "Well." She commented.
"Word travels fast here."

        "It sure does." Their
usual waitress giggled, walking over. She was a sweet woman, polite.
Not quite "one of their kind" but accepting all the same. "Congrads,
you two."

        "Thank you, Liz."
Rodger greeted in a flirtatious manner, as he always did. She was
at least twice her age, but that's where the joke came from.

        She gave him a smirk and
took out a note pad. "Okay, what will it be?"

        "Usual." Kyrie responded.

        "Me, too." Rodger
added.

        "Whatever they're having
is alright with me." Nida decided. There were few things that
were even close to as bad as some of the stuff he'd had to eat at various
bases from time to time. As long as it wasn't rations, he didn't
care what it was.

        "Just a minute, then."
Liz nodded and bounded back to the counter.

        "So you escape the Garden
cafeteria often enough to know the waitress." Nida commented, knowing
the feeling.

        "The food has not improved."
Rodger stated dryly. "It may have gotten worse over the years."

        "It may be the same food."
Kyrie suggested with a shudder.

        "Here comes the annoying
question." Nida warned, sitting back and getting comfortable.
"What do you two plan on doing now?"

        They looked at one another
for a moment before Rodger answered, "Sleeping in for about a week.
Then we'll see what happens."

        The pilot laughed at that.
"Big plans, then."

        "Well, now, we'll be making
our own meals from then on." Kyrie added. "Or at least that's
the plan."

        "Oh. Do either of
you cook?" he glanced three heaping plates of burgers and fries being carried
out toward them. It was enough to make his stomach growl for the
first time in weeks.

        "Well, no." Kyrie
admitted. "But the house has fire insurance, just in case."

        Nida chuckled. "That
is important."

        Liz presented the plates
carefully so as not to spill any of the french fry mountains. "Back
with the sodas. Do you want a soda, Mr...?"

        "Matsuro." He smiled
kindly. "Sure."

        "Ketchup? Salt?" she
inquired.

        "Nah. After weeks
of military fodder, I'd just like to have something that doesn't taste
like lettuce. This is fine."

        The waitress nodded and
sped off again. In the back of her mind, she worried. Two of
them could be confusing enough. But three?

        "So you're in a similar
food situation." Rodger grinned, checking under the bread.
Once in a while he'd get pickles. It was a random thing, and he didn't
mind either way, but... it was odd.

        "Really, don't remind me."
Nida joked. "Garden was nothing compared to a military base.
Especially in the pilot's quarters. I guess they want you to stay
as light as possible or something."

        "Then dig in, Mr. Matsuro."
Kyrie invited.

        He gladly did so.
Hell, he could barely acknowledge the waitress as she came back with the
drinks. It was so good to eat real food again. Real
meat.
And fried foods. And sugary, caffeinated, ice cold beverages.
Heaven. He was still filling up on fries when he caught a glimpse
of the announcement panel again, then glanced at his watch. "I really
am sorry to be rude about this," he apologized, "But I'm all of a sudden
late for take-off."

        "I'm sure we'll see you
around." Kyrie grinned. "Best burgers in Esthar. And
Trabia, for that matter."

        "Yeah, don't worry about
it." Rodger agreed. "The fact you sat with us willingly says
a lot."

        Nida laughed so hard he
had to cover his mouth for a moment to keep it from echoing across the
cafeteria. "Well, thank you both for the company, and good luck.
Let me take care of this." He dug into his pocket for a handful of
Gil.

        "Oh, we can't--"

        "Yes you can." He
cut Kyrie off politely. "Graduation present from a friend of the
family." He gave them both a warm smile and paused only to bow and
wave before rushing off. Hopefully no one was waiting for his landing
spot.

        "What is it with you and
the cute guys?" Rodger teased instantly.

        She pretended to be serious
about the middle finger she gave him. "With fame comes opportunity."

        "Yeah." He rolled
his eyes, "subtly" putting an arm over her shoulder and drawing her closer.
"Same goes for me."

        She scoffed. "With
fame comes you? I think not." She grinned, snatching
a fry from his plate.
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Retribution Nor Redemption