Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Retribution Nor Redemption ❯ Chapter 2

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

"Retribution Nor Redemption" and the general overall concept of "Retribution Nor Redemption" is completely copyright Orin Drake 2002-2003, 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.

From dawn it seemed like they had been cleaning the house. Not that it was terribly dirty or in shambles or anything, but if they were going to move into it, they would simply need it to be clean and rearranged.
Dusting sucked. Kyrie hated it, but she'd lost the draw. At least that meant Rodger had to vacuum afterward. Of course, she still had to do the laundry. Oh the joys of having a house. Granted, it was about a thousand times better than living in a Garden dorm. But, still. First of all, they could play music as loudly as they pleased. Secondly--well, there were lots of possibilities. And they had instant furniture, since very little had been gotten rid of since "way back when".
That was the truly difficult part of moving in. They went through Seifer and Squall's stuff (hell, Rodger was family, it was okay) first, trying to decide what to keep and what was just junk. Strangely, there seemed to be very little junk. Not that the two of them hadn't collected their share of odds and ends over the years, but... most of it was surprisingly useful. Or funny, or classy looking. Must have been the military upbringing and slightly minimalist sense. Or something.
It was just a touch heart wrenching to go through the closets, most of all. The things left out in the open was stuff for anyone to see. The things hidden behind doors and buried in drawers, though... they tended to be a bit more personal. Photographs, love letters, birthday cards; and a chest of... uh... "play things".
That was a grateful find, actually. After all of the other emotional upheaval, finding that made them both laugh themselves stupid. Dusting didn't seem like such a chore after that good of a humorous blunt trauma to the head. Not even laundry seemed like that much of a big deal, though they still debated whether to keep the French maid outfit.
It was bittersweet, though. The total rearranging of her childhood home was both a little disorienting and exciting. It'd be theirs, now. Well, technically it was only in her name, but she'd get that changed eventually. The legal crap would take a while and would likely be a bothersome experience.
It was kind of odd to think about how life seemed to have shifted from a secluded feeling of loneliness to one of... well, family and friendships. When they'd left Esthar shortly after a little shopping spree for the "new place" the night before, Laguna had offered all of the help he could give. Vincent told her she'd have to pay him for his time (but it was still an offer). When they'd arrived back at Garden for the last official night, Quistis had dropped off a small package with a note, also offering to help. Of course, the package contained a set of black satin sheets. Hyne bless that woman.
Kyrie was in the middle of dressing the bed with said sheets when she heard Rodger ask, from behind her, "What do you think?"
Well, there was obviously only one thing to do in that situation. She turned around and looked--and put a hand firmly over her mouth. She was utterly determined not to laugh. She couldn't help it, though. She giggled all the while, trying very hard not to. "Well, it fits."
He pulled at the skirt of the French maid outfit, looking at his bare knees. "I don't know. It doesn't go down very far."
She continued to stare, trying in desperation not to guffaw her ass off through her hand. But there was no way to hold that one back. "Go change. Go change right now before I get the camera."
"But can you imagine the guy at the photo developer?" he made a very over-feminine turn to admire himself in the mirror of the open closet door.
She slowly wiped the tears of laughter away with the palms of her hands, her throat and stomach already hurting. "Oh Hyne. I'd love to see their face when we go to pick the photographs up."
Rodger finally began chuckling, seeing what he looked like in the mirror. It was surreal, frankly. Never in a million years... "I don't have the legs for this skirt."
Kyrie's expression turned devious. She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, looking at their reflections. "Oh, you have the legs. You just have to shave them." She grinned at his mirror image. "Who's my pretty bitch?"
They both erupted in laughter, leaning against one another just to keep themselves upright. It became instantly no wonder why they didn't keep a lot of friendships.
"You had better get a shower and change." She mussed his hair gently with her fingertips.
"What about a photograph?" he tried to sound offended.
"It's damn tempting." She admitted. "But just imagine the headlines. I don't want this getting back to Laguna, being the obvious public figure and all. What goes on in the fucked up family stays in the fucked up family." She grinned at that marvelously simple expression.
"True." He got the picture. He'd gotten it long ago, in fact. "What ever would you do without me?"
"Be very bored." She responded honestly. "Speaking of, I better check on Cloud while you're in the shower."
"He'll be thrilled with your continued cruelty." He quipped, throwing imagined long hair over his shoulder and strutting out.
Kyrie smirked as he walked out, going back to putting the sheets on the bed. When that and the blankets were suitably arranged (the black went well with the newly purchased dark crimson/maroon bedspread), she strolled across the hallway to where they'd moved the computer. Placing her handy little device in the drive, she connected and waited for the response.
You summoned? came on screen.
Oh, I feel special. She commented.
I'll work on that. Cloud joked. Moved in yet?
More or less. She looked around the room at a few boxes, but otherwise things were pretty much arranged. There's still a little to do, but it feels more... homey.
I wish I could decorate this place. He complained. Or something.
You have a computer. She reassured him. You can play video games at whim.
But when you're as much of a master player as I am...
A master what? She joked.
Ha ha.
She had the feeling that such a reaction wasn't entirely consistent with reality, and grinned. And have you been keeping nice and busy as usual?
Well of course. Reports about auto accidents are kind of interesting. Oh, and they discovered a new galaxy today. He informed her.
Really? She typed back. I hadn't even heard about that.
There's not supposed to be a formal announcement until next week. I just got hold of some records "accidentally".
Kyrie found amusement in that. Now there's a great way to keep busy. Cloud Strife, Super Hacker esq., formerly of Big-Ass Sword Inc. Do you know any specifics?
SMARTASS. The screen commented in huge letters. Not really. Just that a couple of them seem to contain the basic beginnings of life. But what kind and if it's really true haven't been revealed yet. How's Vincent by the way?
She thought that question through for a moment. Not like he came out of a coffin at all.
Ha ha. Still acting like a normal human being?
As much as can be expected. She snickered to herself. Laguna just loves having him around. Don't really know why. He's so calm all the time. You wouldn't think they'd get along.
Still wearing the short haircut? he couldn't help but ask. Morbid curiosity; he'd never seen Vincent with short hair. And he knew for certain that there'd be no way to get him to pose for a photograph, so he wasn't sure he'd ever see it.
Oh yes. Quite stylish. Probably easier to manage that way.
It he getting all the chicks? The thought was somehow very laughable.
I think they're all a little intimidated by the claw. She joked.
Understandable. He left it at that. Any plans for a house warming party?
You just want a live video feed of Quistis drinking everyone else to shame. She teased, laughing at the mental picture of that event. It is fun to watch, though. We might have a "party" of sorts. It's hard to crash your own party, though.
I'd help if I could. He offered all too sincerely.
She heard the distinct squeak of the shower shutting off, then checked the time. It certainly wouldn't hurt to start getting ready early. Gotta get going, Cloud. Meeting with Selphie and Irvine for dinner. This is going to be weird.
Good luck. He wished her. Then, in larger, italicized text, he made a "helpful suggestion": Small bites.
Screw you, Strife. She typed with a laugh and logged off.

Irvine had made contact with Selphie only about a month earlier, to plan this particular get-together. Exactly why wasn't clear yet. And Rodger sure as hell didn't know what to think. But tonight they were all going to dinner together to... do whatever it was they were supposed to do. It was a slightly uncomfortable thought for all of them. He and Kyrie would be arriving together, of course, but Selphie and Irvine would be arriving separately. And even then there was no guarantee the dinner conversation would be tolerable. It was just... a weird situation.
Kyrie walked by him on her way to getting ready, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. She instantly braked and backed up, sensing his torment. "Yes?"
He shook his head, staring straight into the mirror. "I don't know what I'm expected to wear. Mom said 'casual'. I don't know if I know what the hell 'casual' is."
"It means not too terribly slobbish." She tried to break the mood just a little. "Just, uh... don't wear anything faded or with holes in it. That'll work."
He looked over to her, gently blowing the bangs out of his face. "Do I have anything like that?"
"I don't know." She admitted. "But if you don't, I bet Vincent will."
Rodger felt one of those "moods" coming on--the occurrence before the shower certainly didn't help matters. And the "mood" was an awful thing, too; right before meeting his parents. He really ought to have more control than that. "Yeah, you'd like to see me in one of those suits."
Kyrie grinned and just kept walking past and to the bedroom, taking her leave of the situation. Tempting though it was, they did not want to be late. They might have time, but they might not.
Feeling a little more at ease, he continued calling, "I bet you'd like to see us both in and out of those suits."
Oh that did it. Familiar heat tingled through her. "Shut up, Rodger." She half joked, digging in the closet for something "casual" for him to wear. When she turned around with a proper selection in hand, she was met with her wet, naked boyfriend's devious smile, his eyes glittering through wet strands of hair. She paused for just a second, then put the selection back into the closet for safe keeping. What the hell? The ball was already rolling, may as well not stop it now.
Rodger said nothing. He really didn't need to. Just smiled that awesome, vicious little smile that seemed to so captivate her, and jerked his head over toward the recently made bed. Had to start somewhere, right?
She sighed and pretended to be disgusted--then bounded on over. In a very dramatic gesture, she simply placed her forearm over her eyes and made a show of collapsing onto the bed, flat on her back.
Well, that was far from a deterrent. He leapt after her, jumping atop her clothed body and continued those evil thoughts. When she finally glanced at him from under her arm, he mimicked Vincent's accent as perfectly as he could. "Oh, Kyrie. I've wanted this for so long..."
She gave him a look that alone may have toppled him off of her had he not been so ready for it. But that broke swiftly into a savagely evil smile. "This is so wrong, you know. In so many ways."
He continued the accent as he leaned in to lower his voice. "I know. But I don't care." He accented the last word with slowly sliding a hand under the back of her shirt.
She moaned as she felt herself give in completely. "Is the front door locked?"
Pseudo-Vincent nodded. "Now look into my red, red eyes and let me show you what this claw can do."
"Sicko." She joked, completely diving in as she unbuttoned her shirt.
"Not I, my dear." He worked the accent as well as he could under the circumstances. Even he'd begun to wonder what Vincent sounded like when he was aroused. Interesting thought. He crawled off of her to let her actually get her clothes off, leaving her just long enough to grab one of Quistis's contributions from the closet. Noting his partner was only naked from the waist up when he turned back around, he began giving her aid. "I cannot fuck you with your pants on!"
She laughed, eager for this role play to continue. Rodger knew how to work it just right. It was beyond amazing that she'd found someone she could tell all of her secrets to; obviously including her sexual attractions. The two of them had grown immensely together in all senses, not just sexually... but that's the part that seemed to most matter at the moment. They discovered things from various sources over the years, and were willing to try anything once (or twice, just to be sure). And, of course, sometimes "only once" turned into a normal occurrence. This, for instance.
As he was turning back from flinging her pants across the room (as was his habit, since he got a kick out of watching her find her clothes afterwards), he was pounced. He slid across the bedspread a little on his back, finding himself pinned. "I knew me in a skirt would get to you."
"Sexy bitch." She grinned. "Vincent in a skirt though, hmmm..."
"I bet he's got the legs, too."
"I certainly wouldn't mind finding out."
He made a disgusted noise and started to kiss the side of her neck, running his hands lightly over her shoulders, then curving around to lightly grasp her breasts. The accent was back in full force. "You can find out later. Sex, now."
"Okay, just get goin', here." She grinned, grinding on top of him.
"What about foreplay?" he pretended to be hurt.
"Oh, you know I don't need no stinkin' foreplay. Just fuck me, Vinnie!" she laughed, rolling and pulling him on top of her.
He broke character for just another moment. "You little slut, you."
Kyrie feigned surprise. "Hey, where'd Vincent go?"
Rodger just shook his head with the return of that viciously insane expression and got back into the spirit of things. "I'll have no boyfriend of yours try to break us up."
"Me either." She agreed, lightly scraping her fingernails against his spine. "He just thinks he can get away with everything."
"We're not that different from one another, then." He grinned, pulling back. The practiced motion of unwrapping the condom and placing it on correctly took mere seconds anymore, and he tossed the wrapper aside as he slid back on top of her body. "What's the magic word?"
"Now."
"Good girl." He whispered, settling properly. He supported himself and waited for her to set the pace--at first. Seated and settling, he began with a few slow, shallow motions.
"Funny." She commented with a moan. "You kind of fuck like my boyfriend..."
Had her eyes been open, she'd have seen his smirk. "Picky, picky." He switched instead to a deeper, faster rhythm. He was careful to keep it controlled, knowing it would hurt at first.
And she made sure he knew, dragging lines into his back with her fingernails; not enough to draw blood, but certainly enough. It didn't take long for the pain to flow like an ocean current into pleasure-pain, though, and she caught up to the rhythm quickly. He was obviously a wonder in himself; he could get her to shut up quite easily if he really tried. Well, almost. "So show me, that claw, Vinnie."
He grinned and slipped his arm around her, holding her closer and using it to lean against at the same time. Hey, if she wanted it... He dug deep with his own fingernails, drawing bleeding cat scratches across her shoulders, her back, her ass--anywhere he could reach. Hell, she healed fast. Good thing they'd opted for a red bedspread.
Each deep trench enticed a hiss and a harder thrust. And, every once in a while, an answering scratch. Their rhythm became increasingly erratic and more purely instinctual as the end neared--until the phone on the bedside table rang.
Kyrie gasped between thrusts, the rational part of her mind taking over for just a moment. "It's Vincent. I told him, to call, and make sure, we were leaving, now..."
Rodger paused and pulled back just a little, a wicked look on his face. "You want to hear his real voice?" He didn't wait for her to respond before he heard the answering machine's beep and thrust himself all the way back inside, clawing deeply into her left shoulder blade.
His actions, along with the "real" Vincent having called her name on the machine ("Hello, Kyrie? Still there? I suppose I shall assume you already left..."), was too much. She dug her fingernails deep into both of Rodger's shoulders and cried out with one hell of an orgasm.
He followed right after, the sudden wave of muscle contractions around him too much to hold on to. He collapsed on top of her, spent and exhausted, but laughing very hard. "Shit!" he panted. "You came before me!"
She started chuckling with him, trying to catch her breath at the same time. "Hyne... We're su... pposed to meet... your parents in... twenty minutes..."
"And we're all dirty!" Rodger giggled, gently lifting out and off of her.
"In more ways than one!" she added, wiping the sweat from her forehead. "We can get a two minute shower and still have plenty of time. If you don't come up with any more great ideas."
He only shrugged with the remnants of a satisfied grin all across his face. He knew now where sex fell in the order of his life; right before his parents.

They'd gotten a taxi into the city, not having any idea exactly where this restaurant was located. Kyrie gave the guy a hundred extra Gil if he'd use the faster side streets. And boy did he, gladly. Instead of being ten minutes late (as they had calculated while they put their clothes back on), they'd actually wound up about five minutes early. Not bad, considering. They found Selphie right outside the doors of the restaurant as soon as they'd gotten out of the cab.
"Hey, Ma." Rodger greeted, giving her a hug that she was well prepared for with wide arms.
"Hello, Rodger!" She said warmly, giving him a squeeze. She then stepped forward to Kyrie and latched onto her before she had the chance to escape somehow. "And Kyrie!"
"Hello, Selphie." The victim of another one of the her excited hugs murmured into her shoulder.
The perky woman released with a wink. "Well, how are you two?"
"Fantastic." Rodger responded. "We've graduated and moved out."
His mother smiled widely. "I know the feeling! It felt great to escape that place! Not going to any of the ceremonies, I take it." Most parents might have had an air of disappointment in their voice. But Selphie was not quite that sort of parent. She'd learned long ago (and mostly from Squall, of all people) that you had to let people be themselves and do as they wanted from time to time, without taking it personally.
"Nah." Her son dismissed, watching as a large black taxi drove toward them. He got a twang of nervousness, knowing who that had to be, in the pit of his stomach. "You know, us and crowds."
Selphie smiled. "I know, alright." She followed Rodger's line of vision to the taxi, taking a few mild breaths as it pulled up in front of them.
Kyrie felt the tension clearly, and regarded the car with a distant glance. This would be... interesting.
Movement from behind the tinted window; someone reaching forward to give the cabbie instructions. Selphie adjusted her skirt with delicate motions, finally getting a bit nervous herself. There was no reason to be, she knew that. But it had been a while. And him just calling out of the blue like this... But it appeared he didn't need any money. Maybe it would turn out alright if he didn't actually need anything from any of them.
The door opened. Out stepped a man that hardly resembled what any of them had ever seen of Irvine. He still had the ponytail, but he was dressed head to toe in casual (but extremely well-to-do looking) attire. Black pants, navy blue dress shirt, black casual jacket, and black shoes that shone like they were bought moments ago.
Rodger shot Kyrie a single, fast look. She knew all about the family's past, and was equally as surprised. This man did not appear to be either the lady killing sharp shooter, nor the increasingly violent, cheating drunk that he was described as at various points in time. He stepped out onto the sidewalk and took a very long, unmarked look at the three of them standing there.
It was an interesting, though somewhat uncomfortable moment. He hadn't seen his father in... a long time; and he didn't care to do the math. But, Selphie didn't look so bad. Not thrilled, that much was clear. But not spiteful. Kyrie merely watched. This was not her battle.
"Hey... Dad." The word sounded just a little foreign. It felt foreign.
Irvine seemed perhaps a little bit struck with that word, himself. Glad for it, but surprised. "Hello, Rodger." He started very quietly as though he were almost too afraid to speak at all. "You've let your hair grow, I see." It didn't quite seem the appropriate thing to say, especially considering how many years it had been, but... it was really all he could think of. His son had been the only one to greet him thus far.
Kyrie didn't bother to comment that she had been partly responsible for that hair style. She loved that viciously shy/wicked look he gave her through those bangs. All he had to do was tip his head forward just a bit and--oooh. She immediately tried to maintain at least an air of polite dignity.
"And you must be Kyrie." His voice continued to edge on the quiet, reserved side. That heavy Griever pendant was actually quite becoming of her. And that gunblade at her side, impressive. He wondered distantly if she were as much an expert in the weapon as her parents, touched with a razor edge of guilt at not knowing.
"Mr. Kinneas." She greeted politely, holding out her hand.
The old Irvine was most definitely still in there. It ran through his eyes and danced in every motion he made; he was still a flirt. He lightly took the outstretched hand and kissed the back of it. "Ms. Leonhart. Never thought I'd see the day."
That could be taken a number of ways. Kyrie chose to take it in stride. No bad blood exchanged as of yet tonight. There was still plenty of time for the walls to be splattered with it, though. Her thin smile spoke volumes to her longtime companion at her side.
Irvine released her hand and looked toward his former wife. She shifted uncomfortably, but there was a polite smile on her face. "Selphie. How are you?"
For a moment, it appeared she would simply snub him. Truth be told, that's what she felt like doing. But then she stepped forward and gave him a hug, short and stiff as it was. "I'm alright, Irvine. Doing quite well. You?"
He pulled away to look at the three of them there before he responded. "Better. Things are better. But shouldn't we get inside before we start reminiscing?"
Very interesting suggestion, so Kyrie thought. She wasn't exactly suspicious of him or anything, but she kept her ears perked. Selphie and Rodger had very much entered into what she considered family, and she would sure as hell look out for them.
They traveled inside and through a darkened hallway, smelling the basic fragrances of a steak house. About this, Kyrie was elated; it was not the stuffy sort of place she had worried about. Just the opposite, it appeared. As they entered the actual restaurant, they found that it was full of well spaced booths of relatively normal looking people, all laughing, talking and having what appeared to be a good time. Good atmosphere, regardless of how the night was to end.
Giving the waitress his name, Irvine scored a booth instantly. It was a corner one, far off to the side and an equal distance from the kitchen and the bathroom. Apparently he had made reservations.
They sat and ordered drinks immediately; water for Selphie, house wine for Irvine, and cola for "the kids". And, amazingly, the waitress actually smiled at them. Not a forced smile, but a perky kind of expression. Almost as if she had seen weirder than they, and that she didn't mind having them around for a short time. Kyrie and Rodger made fleeting eye contact, confirming that fact that they would revisit this place regardless of what the food was like.
Well, now the conversation. Perhaps straight to the point would be a lot less painless. Point and shoot, so to speak. "Sorry to hear about Squall and Seifer." Irvine said quietly, but genuinely. They had been his friends once, after all. He felt he just had to get the sentiment out in the open before anything else.
Kyrie searched for something to say that wouldn't make her sound either insensitive or just plain stupid. She obviously couldn't really find a nice in-between. "Shit happens."
Irvine grinned widely while Selphie cleared her throat. "Yeah, I can see both of your parents in there."
The waitress returned with a tray, laying the drinks in front of everyone and a basket of rolls in the middle of the table. "Decided, yet?" she asked politely, taking out a pad of paper.
It occurred to all of them just then that they hadn't even glanced at their menus, let alone acknowledged the kind of food that was available. But Kyrie knew what she wanted, anyway. "Filet minion. Still bleeding. French fries." It was worth a shot, right?
She was elated when the waitress actually wrote that down, nodded, then moved on to Selphie. For a moment, the woman's hand hovered over the menu as if to take a peek, then dropped. "Oh, ditto. But medium, please."
"Me, too." Rodger added.
"What the hell." Irvine agreed, stacking their completely unused menus.
"Well, you people are easy!" the waitress joked, taking the menus and wandering into the kitchen area.
Kyrie's head swum with the possibilities of dessert. Hell, if they had one of her favorite meals, who knew what wonders the dessert menu held...
"So... why now, Dad?" It was Rodger's turn to get an important subject out in the open. Hell, they were in a nice place with what sounded like nice food. That was sufficient to soothe the sting.
Irvine looked a little uncomfortable with that question, as Rodger seemed to have intended. His son definitely wanted to know exactly why he'd chosen this time to get back to them, even if just to visit. He flipped his ponytail back over his shoulder and cleared his throat. "Well, honestly, I just wanted to make amends, kinda. I was sort of a lush for some time and, well... since I got sober, I just wanted to revisit the things I screwed up."
Good answer, so Kyrie thought. She wondered how sincere it was, of course, but it was a good answer.
Irvine lowered his voice, his tone utterly sincere. "And I'm sorry I'm unable to do the same with Seifer and Squall. I really owe them... a lot. And Zell..." His voice fell into a whisper.
If she ought to say anything at all, Kyrie had absolutely no idea what should have been said. Zell... that was a sad thing. Another sad thing. After she'd paid him a visit almost four years ago, he'd sobbed until he was dry and then promised to come see her. To see the house, their graves, make amends of his own. But the next day, she heard from Quistis of all people... that he'd gone out on the pier and shot himself that night. Clean to the head. No note, no anything. Obviously Irvine had heard. Few people hadn't, these days.
And then about a week after Zell had blown his brains to fish food, she'd received a package. From him. At first she was almost scared to open it, wondering in the back of her mind if it wasn't some truly insane "gift" a voice in his head had told him to send to her. It would have been just her luck, after all. She opened it anyway, finding... a ring. No note, nothing else. Just a ring with a Griever symbol. It had completely freaked her out, so she'd shown it to Quistis. Apparently, years ago, Zell had taken the ring from Squall and made a copy; the copy of which he'd given to Rinoa. Why Zell had kept the original... well, all the speculation in the world wouldn't have been able to uncover the truth. But the fact Zell had so obviously sent it to her right before he killed himself... it was freaky. And, worse still, unexplained. She kept the ring in a little box under the bed for safe keeping--and memories. Painful reminder though it was, it would serve its purpose.
She still felt she ought to say something about Irvine's apology, even if it did turn out sounding stupid. But she couldn't. She just... didn't have anything to say about that. She'd been the last person to see Zell alive, so it seemed. He was shaken, clearly, but... he had seemed fine. So... just... fine. Funny how quickly life can change. She thought back just for an instant about having Squall fight by her side, and then...
"That's... it's a good start, Dad." Rodger said quietly. He knew Kyrie enough to know her thought process. She needn't be placed in the center of nagging guilt at this point in time. That, and he was being honest. It was nice to see his father trying to start over, and he really wanted to believe it would turn out alright.
"But I owe you a lot, too." Irvine had turned to Selphie, waiting for her to make eye contact. "Most of all, probably. You put up with me longer than anyone else did."
"I'm not sure that was a good thing." She responded quietly. It wasn't a pointed comment, at least not in tone; they were her honest thoughts.
"And I'm sorry, Selphie." He spoke in that same soft, sincere tone. "I am." He looked to his son, staring back with careful expression. "And I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Rodger. I'll stay out of your lives, but... I want to try and make up for it. Any way I can."
A silence fell, which was surprisingly not as uncomfortable as it was expected to be. To believe him or not, benefit of the doubt or the same stupid old mistake... Well, Selphie wouldn't be quick to let him into her home, let alone her life, ever again. Rodger was eager to know about his father, but... wasn't quick to want to be spending time with the old man. And Kyrie merely watched for any sort of signal that he was lying, or trying to get something out of them. Seeing none was almost unsettling to her. It might well mean he was sincere. Only time would tell, though. They all understood that.
The waitress was once again their rescue. She carried out a hug tray of four plates, each one decorated with a sprig of parsley and covered in meat and french fries; Kyrie's being the only one in a pool of red. "That all for now, folks?"
It was a real smile Irvine gave her. "Yes, thanks."
"Come back for dessert, though." Kyrie invited.
The waitress gave another million Gil smile and agreed with a nod. With another glance to make sure all things were in order, she walked off with a little skip.
Then the eating of the food commenced, thankfully shutting off most of the conversation for the time being. There were comments made on how wonderful the food was, jokes about Kyrie's meat moving, and creative things to do with dinner rolls and tooth picks. Mostly it seemed, dinner was about the food; especially since most of the sensitive issues had just been flung out into the open, then swept out of the way. It was... nice that way. Easier. Made the food taste better, without a bitter aftertaste.
The waitress wandered back just in time to catch Kyrie in the act of turning one of the rolls into a short legged, large bodied ant with tooth picks and french fries. She had been working diligently, completely silently, while the rest of the table looked on, unnoticed, in silence. When the waitress began to laugh, she finally looked up to see all the eyes on her, and smiled herself with amusement. "Given time and supplies..." she dismissed quietly.
"Well, congratulations." The waitress giggled. "There's something I know I've never seen before. And that deserves dessert." She laid the dessert menus in front of each of them. "I'll be back in a moment. With the manager. He's got to see this."
"Ah, fame." Rodger grinned widely.
Kyrie pretended to be too involved in finishing her masterpiece to hear him. Only after the last fry-leg was in place did she acknowledge his comment with a very subtle middle finger.
Irvine rested his elbow on the table, chin in his hand, watching this exchange. He hadn't seen his son in so long... but damn it was nice to see him having a good time with this girl. For all intents and purposes, she seemed... "grounded", so to speak. Selphie seemed fond enough of her.
As if on cue, the woman who suddenly felt a bit more at ease to allow for perkiness cleared her throat. "Alright, what is everyone getting?"
"Oh, seven different kinds of cheesecakes..." Kyrie commented in euphoria. "I didn't even know there were seven kinds."
"Get a sampler." Rodger joked.
"Remember when we used to share milkshakes?" Irvine somehow felt it alright to inquire.
"Pft. 'Share' nothing." Selphie quipped, but in good humor.
Ah. Dessert, bringing out the best in people. Kyrie didn't dare say that out loud. It was best not to question a good thing. "Pick a number between one and seven hundred million."
Rodger looked up, smiling full-out. "Can't decide which cheesecake?"
"There are seven." Selphie reiterated for her, then broke into giggles.
"Exactly!" Kyrie added. "There are also three kinds of chocolate cakes."
"Oh." Irvine commented, finding said items on the menu. "I wonder how they take to being asked for all three."
"It's not as unusual as you'd think." Came a voice off to the side. Looking up, it was clearly the manager--and not just because of the flashy gold name tag with "Manager" on it. He walked up, regarding Kyrie's ever so ingenious sculpture the sat atop the bread basket. To all of their genuine shock, he smiled a little. Granted it was like someone smiling at a child for saying something stupid, but... hell, it was a smile. "Talent." He commented simply.
"So I've been told." Kyrie attempted a polite joke. "I'll sell it to you."
That got the reaction of a halfway real laugh. Again, it was like laughing at what a child was trying to make funny, but... well, hell. "If you sign it, you'll get your desserts for free. What do you say?"
What an odd suggestion. She got the distinct impression that this guy was either an autograph whore, or he had something seriously wrong with him. One glance over to the bar area asserted her original impression--lots of signed pictures and the like. It wasn't as if she was a celebrity. It wasn't even as if he or anyone else around her would even care to eat in a place that she may or may not frequent in the future. But, free dessert. A very amusing sculpture it was clear few people would "get" and fewer would even think to look at. Hey, everyone wanted something. "Alright."
Rodger cleared his throat to stifle a laugh. He knew her thought process as certainly as if it had gone through his own head to get to hers. They'd definitely eat there again. And bring people. And then she could point and tell them she did that, and they'd get that whole "I'm sorry, you must be retarded" smile on their face.
But Kyrie didn't bother to hide the grin plastered on her face as she took the pen the manager offered and signed the side of the cold dinner roll with flourish. "Kyrie Almasy Leonhart". Now let's see them put that up front.
The manager picked it up as though it were a child's treasured thing (treasured, but ultimately useless), and commenced taking the orders himself. "Alright, then. And everyone wants..?"
Considering it was Kyrie's "work of art" that had gotten them this far, she went first. "Cherry cheesecake with a scoop of chocolate ice cream on the side, please."
"Whoah." Rodger commented teasingly. "Want some mint with that?"
"Okay." She agreed deadpan. "One chocolate, one mint."
The manager twirled his pen, regarding these... odd, odd people. But, he wrote down the order anyway before moving to Selphie. "And you, ma'am?"
"This 'old fashioned apple crisp' here, looks good..." she responded, folding her menu politely. All she had to do this evening was sit back and watch the entertainment unfold before her. It was kind of nice.
"Sir?" the manager regarded Rodger.
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth once, looking the menu over one more time. Then he closed his eyes, pointed at a random place, and opened his eyes again. "Oh, ice cream mud pie."
"Trabia style chocolate cake for me." Irvine said with assurance.
The manager attempted another polite smile, then got the hell out of there. These people were weird. Possibly dangerous. Possibly going to multiply some day.
"Think he'll be putting that behind glass?" Rodger asked his girlfriend.
"Then right in the kitchen trash." She responded flatly. "But war enthusiasts might enjoy finding it some day, all half rotten and partially mummified with potato skins..."
Irvine found himself smiling. She had the balls of Seifer and the overall outlook of Squall. "Do you get recognized often?"
"If the dirty looks are any indication..." she answered, sitting back in her chair. "But then it gives great service." Her eyes darted to the side.
On cue, the waitress from earlier carried a tray of desserts over to them with that same polite smile. She laid everyone's plates in front of them, then bowed slightly. "Anything else I can get you this evening?"
With a quick glance at the others, Irvine shook his head. "That's fine, thanks." He pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to her, then leaned in a little. "Give yourself two hundred Gil for tip, hm?"
The waitress covered her mouth, blushing a little. "Oh, Sir... I mean, I can't... are you sure?"
"Perfectly." He answered with the shadow of his old flirty grin.
When the waitress walked away from their table, all eyes were on him. It was actually Selphie that made the first move. "And what sort of business are you in these days?"
"Investments. Banking." He waved the question away, picking up his fork. "I'm not high up or anything, but... I'm doing well now."
Rodger and Kyrie had a split second glance at one another before they commenced with their desserts. It hadn't seemed to have been either a lie or a cover-up. So... well, good for him.
"It's a far cry from a sniper." Irvine admitted with a laugh; but it was a little hollow. It sounded nearly regretful. "But it makes better money. And it's far less dangerous." He caught the eye of his former wife and gave her a more genuine smile. "And what are you up to?"
She took a bite of apple crisp first, noting it was plenty warm enough for her to talk before the next bite. "Well, I was living off of Garden's war veteran pay until Rodger left home." She gave her son a little smile. "Then I was a receptionist for President Loire for a couple of years, and now it's been about seven months without a job. But now I think I'm plenty ready to get back into the work force. I'm not sure as what, but... I'll find something I'm suited for."
Irvine nodded, glad to hear she'd been doing well. He looked to Rodger, almost startled to see his son's gaze had already been strong on him. He wasn't surprised, really; he supposed he'd have been just as critical of his own father, had he known him. "Any particular interests?"
Nothing he could discuss at the dinner table. "Not... as of yet, really. I think I'll just take a break from having to get up every morning, and then... possibly work for Laguna."
Kyrie read his quick glance, almost hearing him speak Vincent's name in her head. Vicious little creature, he. She smiled, though, watching Irvine's gaze shift to her. "Same goes here. But something strategic might be nice."
"How is Laguna these days?" Irvine asked sincerely, another piece of cake firmly on his fork. It was good stuff.
The cheesecake was glorious as well; but she was forced to swallow. She'd later giggle at that thought. "Very well. Same old Laguna, I guess. But Kiros is gaining on some sort of mental malfunction due to stress, I think."
"You want to get in on the death pool?" Selphie asked completely seriously.
Irvine laughed, memories of the past flooding him. It'd been a long time. A long time since he'd seen anyone he used to care about. He found that he still cared a great deal. Obviously not enough to bring the days of old back (not that the idea was possible anyway), but... he felt a distant fondness for the whole experience. He never would have imagined.
The waitress interrupted with another smile and a bow, thanking Mr. Kinneas for the tip and handing his card back. "And we enjoyed having all of you." She added, smiling and taking her leave.
"Bullocks." Rodger joked under his breath.
Seeing as how dessert was more or less done (or at least everyone was too full to do much more than make odd shapes with the remnants), Irvine sat back and regarded everyone. "Well... I have to say that I kind of hope this isn't the last time we do this."
Selphie softly wiped her mouth with her napkin, wondering exactly what it was she ought to say. Truth be told, she wasn't sure. But, he hadn't asked for anything. He had paid, his card had been accepted. The kids probably would have indicated to her if they felt he was merely talking out of his ass, so... "You know, I think that would be nice."
"Yeah." Rodger agreed quietly.
Kyrie didn't feel it her place to agree or disagree. The man did appear sincere enough. At least in this meeting. She wasn't as concerned as she had been beforehand, and that was saying something.
"I guess we ought to get going, then." Irvine suggested with nervous hope. "Before we get escorted out."
They walked out together in the cooling night, lost in the background amongst the crowds of other people, walking through, wandering around. Somehow that was preferable to being solitary in this time and place. Irvine pulled out a cell phone and called for his driver, then said his good-byes. Selphie gave him a bit of a longer hug this time, feeling more assured that things might just be alright after all. Rodger gave him a hand shake; no hugs, not yet. Not until he was certain. Kyrie got a simple hand shake this time as well, but a genuine smile from the man. He said he was glad to meet her. Whether that was true or not would undoubtedly remain to be seen.
The black cab pulled up around front again, and Irvine made another round of good-byes and promises that this would happen again soon. He turned and waved as he opened the door, then got in and was swept away.
The three remaining just stood there, watching. Rodger finally broke the silence; "That was weird."
Selphie nodded. "For me, too." She watched the place where the taxi had disappeared into the distance, reflecting on the whole experience. "He's... so different."
"Is it a good thing?" Kyrie asked softly.
"I hope so." She responded truthfully. "Well, you two, I'm full. So I'm going home."

They saw Selphie to the train station, she being absolutely insistent that they not follow her home. It would have been nice to have them over after all of that, but she knew they needed some time on their own to adjust to their new environment, so to speak. Then she could invite them over all the time.
They stayed with her as she waited and waved until the train was out of sight. Only then did Kyrie note the time. "Wow, it's still early. Just a little past 8:30."
Rodger was amazed "Really? Early dinners are... weird." But then, to them, being awake during daylight was a little weird.
"Well, then. Any ideas on how to spend the rest of our evening?" she grinned deviously.
Ding! The idea of ideas entered his head. "Let's see if we can get Quistis drunk."
"You know that's impossible. But fun to try. Again." They started making their way over to the Jet back to Trabia.
"Hey, wait. Should Laguna be joining us?" he wondered out loud. The guy had been buried in work for the last couple of days, after all. He might like a little unannounced trek out.
Kyrie laughed with the picture. "Not after last time. Vincent will kill me."
He chuckled wickedly. "Yeah, but what a way to g--"
"Shut up, dear." She interrupted, grinning. "One thing I have to do before we leave..."

Catching the next Jet, the two of them actually made it inside Trabia Garden at about 9:30. There was, of course, no assurance that Quistis hadn't gone home yet. But, being witness to her work habits personally, the two of them had decided to try her office first.
Sure enough, the first thing they heard on the communications panel was a yawn. "Yes?"
"Two poor, bored children to see you." Kyrie responded.
The door opened instantly, welcoming them inside. Instructor Trepe was sitting amongst a couple of stacks of the infamous student folders, legs up on the desk, boots off. It had obviously been a long day. "What a surprise!" she greeted, grunting as her legs fell to the floor so she could turn to see them.
"We're in need of a little normalcy, Quisty." Kyrie admitted, producing a large bottle of spiced rum from a paper bag.
Quistis had never looked so happy to receive a gift of these sorts. "I know it's improper and probably borderline alcoholic, but... I could really use some of that right now." Sorting out the soon-to-be new students was getting... irritating.
Rodger smiled and sat in one of the plush guest chairs. "Well, it's almost the weekend, so..."
The instructor smiled back gratefully, pulling open one of the bottom drawers. She produced from it three glasses and set them one beside the other, then reached back and took her hair down. It felt good to relax with these two, age difference be damned. She just felt so much younger with her hair down, these days.
"'Borderline alcoholic'?" Kyrie teased.
Quistis winked at her, pouring each of them a nice amount to start off with--a little more in her glass than the others'. "Alright, out with it. How was the evening?"
"Weird." Rodger responded instantly. He opened his mouth to add more, then shook his head. "That pretty much says it all."
Kyrie let the burn of the alcohol coat her mouth and swallowed before she contributed to the conversation. She wasn't much of a drinker, herself. But the buzz was kind of nice. "He was nothing like I'd expected."
"Really?" Quistis leaned forward, pushing the folders off to the side. "How'd he dress?"
"Like... a bank manager." Rodger commented, almost choking on his drink with a chuckle.
"Dear Hyne." The Instructor sounded amazed. "Is that what he's doing now?"
"Pretty much." Kyrie answered. "At least, so he says. Investments and so forth."
The blonde's jaw simply fell open. Investments? Banking? Irvine?! "I have nothing to say to that."
The three of them laughed, already feeling the stresses and oddness of the day fall away. They had had many nice, still moments with just the three of them. And, every now and again, actually maintained a rather casual air of profound thought process. Though that was pretty damn rare.
"How did Selphie react?" Quistis could not stifle her curiosity.
"She's still pretty unsure." Rodger ventured. "But... she was doing well when she left."
The instructor nodded slowly, holding her half empty glass between the palms of her hands and rolling it softly between them. "Good." She paused, wondering just how okay she was with the whole thing. But then Selphie was never one to bottle up her emotions that much. Selphie knew her number, should it come to that. She knew she shouldn't be so worried about her old friend. "Did he say anything about your parents?"
Kyrie smirked gently, swallowing another sip smoothly. "Tastefully apologetic." She left it at that. "Tell me something, Quisty."
"Of course." The woman grinned, pretending to be a lot more intoxicated than she was for a moment.
"How did everyone find out about the two of them?" She had been wondering that very question for quite some time. She knew more or less how they'd gotten together, and what happened after the shit hit the fan, but... not how they'd broken the news to everyone in the first place.
Quistis began laughing--that really sweet, reminiscing laughter that can only happen at night behind a locked door with family and friends. "Well, that was fantastic. Seifer had been just off of mainland Esthar for a bit of a holiday from everyone, and Squall had felt the need to take off shortly after due to the whole big Rinoa battle. We didn't know at the time that the two of them had actually wound up in the same place, we just thought they'd ended up taking the same boat on the trip back. The ship had delivered them both on the docks of Balamb, and the whole gang was there to greet one or the other. Squall had just bent over to get the suitcases, and Seifer just leaned back and..." she broke into mad laughter, being forced to wipe the tears from her eyes before returning to the story. "Just smacked him on the ass!" she finished before falling to the side and laughing in the most unladylike of ways.
Kyrie's shocked look was replaced with her own roaring laughter, making it difficult to breathe. She could picture it, Squall's absolutely horrified expression and Seifer's great big cocky smirk.
"Poor Squall blushed crimson!" Quistis giggled madly. "It was magnificent!"
"And that's how you found out?" Rodger was holding his stomach; it already hurt from laughing. The very picture...
"That's how everyone found out! Even Laguna was there!" She began laughing again, almost too hard to breathe.
"Oh Hyne!" Kyrie's mouth was starting to get dry. "That is... glorious... I need to make notes here."
Quistis continued to giggle, recalling the events as though they happened yesterday. "I'm certain Squall had never felt that level of embarrassment at any other time in his life. But, it was out there in the open." She wiped her eyes again, settling down. "He didn't confirm it then. But he didn't deny it, either. I guess we all kind of got the picture instantly."
Kyrie continued to giggle. "Well, not the most romantic story I've ever heard..."
"And then my parents decided... it wasn't for them." Rodger commented mostly to himself.
The instructor drew a deep breath, a slightly stung smile still on her face. Those were wonderful moments... but painful, as well. It was when their group was no longer a group. "Well, there was a general falling out. It happened over a period of time, really." She dare not speak Zell's name. She hadn't since she'd informed Kyrie of his death. Hell, she hadn't even heard the name in so long before then that when she'd received the call herself, it took a moment to register.
"Don't you worry, you two." She assured, regaining herself. "The past is past. And things... well, they seem to be getting better. That's wonderful. And that's the part you need to remember."

Kyrie lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. She was waiting for Rodger to come out of the bathroom so they could get some sleep. They were going to try to get to the Presidential Estate relatively early in the morning to help out with everything that needed to be done before the big Trabia visit. Not that there was much they could do, really, but Laguna had left a message while they were gone, inviting them. Besides, it might prove helpful. They did need something to do, after all.
They'd walked Quistis home after the bottle was empty and the yawns became more frequent; her incredibly nice, Garden funded apartment was just down the street and a few blocks from the building itself. She'd insisted that they didn't need to walk with her, but they had anyway. She didn't even appear to be buzzed, but she never did. There never seemed to be any way to tell exactly how drunk that woman was. Or if she ever actually got drunk to begin with.
While most of the night's conversation had been lighthearted banter, there was still that slightly uncomfortable matter of... well, the past. She continued to stare at the ceiling, going over bits of the day in her mind. Hyne, she missed them. She was glad Irvine seemed to be making an effort, and Quistis and Selphie had patched things up between them, but... it was still incomplete. She wasn't sure it ever actually could be "complete", but... it felt like it ought to be.
Ah well. No use dwelling on it. And then a completely different line of thought blasted into her head; did Squall ever hold her as a baby? She wondered. She pictured him holding a squirming infant by the leg at arm's length, a disgusted look of horror on his face, and chuckled to herself.
The sound of water erupted, and soon after the bathroom door opened. Rodger stood there for a moment, just regarding the situation. "A house all to ourselves. How weird."
"But good-weird." Kyrie added, pulling the covers back for him a little.
He took a moment to strip, tossing the clothes into the hamper just inside the bathroom door. Making a show out of hiding his "naughty bits", he walked around the bed and pulled a pair of boxers out of the dresser.
"Awww." She made an equally big show out of her disappointment.
He grinned at that, walking back around and getting under the covers. He perked up a little as he made a discovery, laying next to her. "Why, you are nearly nekkid."
She laughed quietly, showing off just a pair of panties then pulling the covers back over her. "Clothes with satin sheets? Are you nuts?" They weren't in Garden anymore, after all.
He gave her a devious look and wrapped his arms around her, yanking her closer. "Not to disappoint, but I'm way too tired."
"Me, too." She admitted, just glad to be laying next to him. She closed her eyes and put her head on his shoulder, laying an arm across his waist. The satin was a nice touch. She'd have to thank Quistis, again. Office mini bar, perhaps? That is, if she didn't have one hidden somewhere in there already.
"So things went well, huh?" he began to get real used to the sheets, himself. It felt quite nice, cool and smooth but not annoyingly cold. It gave him... ideas.
"So far so good." She answered. "Here's hoping."
He lifted his head just enough to give her a good night kiss. "Okay, turn over. I want to be the big spoon."
She laughed without comment, turning and clicking the bedside lamp off. He put his arm over her and pulled her in close, never feeling more at ease than when they were in this position together. After a moment of stillness, she felt him jokingly grind against her back. "Vinnie?"
"Shut up." Then laughter.