Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Retribution Nor Redemption ❯ Chapter 3

[ 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.

Well, they'd kind of gotten up early. Noon was early, right? Early enough. Showered, dressed, fed and on the Jet at 2:00. So they'd taken their time.
Navigating the maze of the Presidential Palace was no harder than usual--until they got around to Laguna's office. The hallways in front of it and many yards to either side were completely blocked with furniture. Some of it was recognizable, but others... well, were half assembled at best.
As they stood there, deciding whether it was best to climb over and try their luck at balance or possibly under with the risk of collapse, Vincent walked up behind them. "Battlefield." He stated simply.
Kyrie turned with a smirk. "So Deiling Furniture finally delivered?" Long story short, they'd been waiting on some new desks and cabinets for months, told each time that they were "on the way". Apparently it was true this time around.
"On the day before a political meeting." Vincent confirmed. "All of the hallways looked like this this morning."
"Glad we're late." Rodger grinned.
"Kiros will you damn well stop trying to lift that?" they heard the president yell from the other end of the furniture mountain.
"Well, that's our cue to help." Kyrie announced. "Where should we put all of this?"
"Anywhere that won't be seen by Trabia's leadership." Vincent suggested helpfully.
Good thing they'd eaten breakfast. It wasn't really that any of the stuff was all that heavy (maybe that was a slightly negative sign about the quality of the materials used), but it did take more than one person to slide and lift a great deal of it. They made all the use they could out of paper storage rooms and unused offices, stacking and shoving whatever they could together.
There was still the matter of straightening up the place a bit if Mr. Echsnei wanted a tour. This would be a pretty important visit in a number of political respects. It's not that the Trabia government was being violently overthrown or anything. It was merely that the long-time residents weren't certain if they preferred a monarchy or a representative republic. Or anything else, for that matter. Either way, Echsnei was still in power as the "ruler". So, as to cut through all of the confusion, his official title for the time being was "Mister". Must be confusing to the life-long Trabia residents. Hell, governments all over the world had changed like garments over the past twenty years or so. Laguna was pretty much the only one to have remained in power and with the same title. A little scary, to tell the truth.
"Isn't Elle supposed to have been here to help us with this?" Kyrie finally asked, leaning against a wall then letting herself slide down it until she was sitting on the floor. Hey, it was clean.
Laguna crossed his arms, regarding the once again empty hallway. "Well, she is supposed to get back from the Balamb Resort sometime today." He looked up and down the hall thoughtfully. "And who wants to help move my desk?"
Rodger looked down at his girlfriend, realizing that he was out in the open, completely exposed to the predator that was Laguna's cry for help. He gave her a slightly pleading look.
"I'll do laundry if you go." She offered far too sweetly.
"I don't know if it's worth it." He responded.
"But I'm ever so tired." She tried to suppress a wicked little smile.
Rodger pretended to be very offended and walked away from her to Laguna. "I'd rather go with you, anyway. She's a cruel, cold woman."
"Can't argue with that." Vincent quipped, leaning against the wall next to Kyrie.
"I knew you were all against me. I just never really realized it so... completely before." She made an overdramatic sigh.
The President smiled and wrapped an arm around Rodger, seeing his opportunity. "Great. Bonding time!"
"Kyrie!" Rodger mock-cried as he was lead away down the hall. "Help!"
"No." She called simply, waving.
Vincent crossed his arms and grinned at this display. Seeing that they were now abandoned in a remote hallway, he struck up a conversation. "So, what are you going to do now?"
"I really don't know." She admitted, almost under her breath. "I'm not sure of exactly what I'm interested in." She got her legs underneath her and slid back up the wall, her muscles still aching from all of that damn furniture stacking.
He stared down the hall for a moment, seriously pondering a number of options running through his head. "Well, you can always intern for me I suppose."
She detected a hint of... deviousness in his voice. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she swore she could hear it. "I don't know about that one. I thought you were sick to death of me already."
"Only almost." He smirked. "There's still time to ultimately hate you."
"Sweet." She said flatly.
He chuckled. "You have no idea at all? No plans?"
"Well, I was relatively certain I wasn't going to graduate at all." She admitted.
"Ah, no faith in yourself."
"When it counts."
"Yes. Indeed." There was something very unsettling about that smile. Softly and casually, he commented, "You do know the speaker/microphone switch to the answering machine was on last night, right? And that it transmits sounds even through the ringing?"
Oh. My. She knew what he was saying, but it didn't quite... compute at first. When it did, there was an almost audible click in her brain. "I... I do now."
His eyes turned dark, but not from anger. It was more of a playfulness he was feeling. "Watch out for that next time."
Something deep inside of her desperately wanted to ask, "Or what?" But she obviously couldn't let that part take over at the moment. "I will. Thanks." Why, after all of that, after what that had just entailed, she actually did not feel either awkward or embarrassed, she would never understand.
"Would you like some coffee while we wait?" he continued on as if their entire conversation was as easy and natural as it always was.

Rodger stared blankly at her as he located her, alone, in one of the little "coffee nooks" that was located two or three to a floor in the Presidential Palace. She just gave him a great big grin and lifted her cup, taking another sip. "Have you been here the whole time while I was being forced to help?" he joked.
"Almost." She stated simply, that incredibly huge expression of deep amusement not leaving. It was clearly noticeable by her companion, to say the least.
"What?!" he finally asked, seeing that elaborate smile plastered on her face.
"The speaker/mic switch was on when Vincent called." She answered quietly. "And apparently, you can hear what's going on even through the ringing."
He paled. How absolutely embarrassing. "And why are you smiling about this?"
"Because it's funny as hell." She answered, unable to control the giggle rearing its ugly head.
"And you call me the sick-o." He joked, still astonished. "And he's not... y'know, weirded out? Or upset?"
"Nope." She responded, taking the last gulp, then placing the cup back on the counter with a dull thunk. "I think you owe me a pastry for the kink bet."
"That doesn't prove he's kinky." He grinned and grasped Kyrie around the waist, taking a little break himself.
"And what does it prove?" she inquired ever so sweetly.
"Oh, I don't know. I'm just looking for more proof." He teased, kissing her cheek affectionately.
There was quite the silence in the glare she threw his direction. "You are a fucking demon." She finally commented, many thoughts dancing through that sick head of hers.
"Please, not in public." Came a voice from around the corner, walking closer.
The couple exchanged that instant, half second long glance with one another. But, thankfully, they both kept their mouths shut regarding the earlier subject. Rodger took the initiative for the conversation. "Does anyone need anything else done?"
Vincent came around the corner, his arms full of bound paperwork. "Now that's very kind of you, to volunteer your services."
Rodger released a disgruntled moan. "That's supposed to go to the transportation office, isn't it?"
Vincent nodded, a horribly vicious smile on his face. "As I said, nice of you to deliver it for me..."
"I don't want a damn thing to do with that woman." He pushed Kyrie forward. "She'll do it."
His girlfriend looked back at him with halfway joking contempt. "What makes you say that?"
"Uh..." he searched for something that would make this trip worthwhile. "Dinner?"
She stared at him for a long period of time, only seeing his hopeful expression grow more hopeful, little by little. "Oh, fine." She turned back to Vincent and offered her arms to take the load. "If I have to do shit like this all the time, I'm finding a job elsewhere."
Vincent only grinned, glad to get out of seeing the transportation secretary. "I really, really hate that woman." He admitted openly for the umpteenth time.
"So do I." Kyrie mumbled. "But at least she's easily frightened."
"If this doesn't do it," Vincent held up his claw, "What will?"
There was no way she could directly answer that question that wouldn't make her appear to be the world's biggest pervert. So, she looked back to Rodger. "You owe me dinner and dessert."
He just held up a thumb with a great big and understandably relieved grin. Hell, he didn't have to deal with that woman, he was glad. She was so... latchy. In a very disturbing sort of way. She was... normal in a way that went so far beyond normal, it was grotesquely abnormal.
Vincent waited until she disappeared into the lift across the hall, then started up a conversation. "I've noticed you seem a bit more... attentive to her of late."
Strikingly blunt though the beginning of the conversation was, Rodger actually knew what he meant. How, he wasn't sure. After the whole conversation before, he might have been a bundle of nerves or even giggling like an idiot around the man, let alone what he'd just said, but... Vincent was "one of them". Part of the "circle of freaks", maybe. "I've just been... a little worried lately."
Funny how acute the man had become at sensing the emotions of others. It was often the most subtle things that set off his senses. He'd learned long ago to listen to that, to build off of those signals. "Just lately?"
"Always." Rodger admitted quietly. "But... mostly lately. She's had some dreams about her parents. Just regular, mundane things, but... gets me thinking." He paused, trying to put those thoughts into words. "It doesn't seem like... she's holding anything in. Not intentionally. But... I wonder."
Vincent nodded, glancing at the illuminated lift display. Well, that was quick. "Are you worried she may have a breakdown?"
Rodger blinked, his stomach instantly tightening. "Well, I wasn't before."
Vincent let out a low, carefully placed chuckle. "She'll be alright. But there is something built up in there." He had worried, himself. Since the moment Squall had died, he had worried about her. But she assured him time and time again that she could handle it. Just never in so many words.
The lift dinged it's arrival, and out stepped a slightly out of breath Kyrie with no papers. "A drop and run." She announced.
"Aww, Jilly didn't even get to see you and tell you there are colored contacts you can get for your eyes." Rodger beamed brightly.
"Keep that up and I'll tell her you both want to see her." She threatened.
"What did I do?" Vincent asked in the most innocent voice he could muster.
"You look guilty." She joked. In truth, she was a hair's breadth away from having said, "You two alone together? Hyne knows." But that... that may have been a bit too much. At least, at that point in time.
It was at that moment Kiros interrupted their conversation. He was actually, literally, sprinting down the hall. In what looked like sheer panic.
In a very easy-going voice, Vincent seemed to snare him and force him to stop for conversation. "And just what are you running around for this time?"
The man was clearly out of breath and on the verge of something mental. "Mr. Echsnei has decided he'd like to visit early. Today. In an hour."
Well, an early government visit was certainly something to panic about. At least, a lot more so than what Kiros normally panicked about. Kyrie attempted the same easy-going tone so as not to "startle the wild animal". "The halls are clean. What's the problem?"
Kiros bowed his head ever so slightly. "I have no idea where Laguna is."
The other three exchanged a quick, amused glance at one another before they turned back to the matter at hand. Rodger had meant to say something a little more reassuring than what came out, but... "Good luck."
"Thank you." The man responded sincerely enough, then bounded off in the other direction as if he'd never even stopped in the first place.
Kyrie took a moment to regard her ensemble. Not quite stately, but her usual. Jeans, boots, short sleeved dark blue tee. She pulled her hair out of the loose ponytail and whipped it around a little. Good enough.
Rodger regarded himself similarly. Why was it he only seemed to worn things that were torn and faded? Eh, nothing he could do about it. So he parodied her hair toss.
Vincent crossed his arms and smirked at the two of them for their half-assed efforts. But then, he needed to do absolutely nothing. Never did. Always a suit, always. It was old habit. "Well, I suppose we ought to find the president. Kiros will be running in circles for some time."

It was never really hard to find Laguna. Just look in the places you'd expect him--then turn around. Never failed. They'd located him in minutes, informed him, and off they'd gone to find Kiros again. That was a bit harder, though they did finally catch up to him thanks to the sound of his ragged breathing after all of that running. He wouldn't be living that one down for quite some time.
Well, things really were in order for the most part. Laguna was quite casual about the whole thing. Nervous, but casual. He knew Mr. Echsnei to be considered a very down to earth sort of man. And the citizens of Trabia seemed to like him quite a bit, regardless of what kind of government they ultimately decided upon. There were never plans to get him removed that he'd heard of.
It seemed things were certainly clean enough. Not as spotless as Kiros insisted they be, but nothing could ever reach that standard. The guards were informed so they could have a little greeting ceremony as Mr. Echsnei arrived, and the rest of the time was spent trying to convince Kiros that he needed to relax. Laguna threatened to put together a panel just to see if they could accomplish that one task.
When the Trabia government procession of seven arrived (and right on time, sweetly enough), things went smoothly. Laguna and Kiros went about with the official greetings while Rodger, Kyrie and Vincent stayed behind to... well, wait. There was a lovely little conference hall near the heart of the palace designed specifically for these small, friendly gatherings, so they simply waited and watched the coverage on the big screen television.
"Do you think Kiros was born like that..." Kyrie ever so subtly pulled a tin of pretzels out of one of the fancy ottomans, "Or do you think it was time with Laguna that made him hyper-obsessive?" She placed the tin on the edge of the table and sat back down at the end.
Rodger and Vincent made momentary eye contact across the table to one another, but it was actually Vincent that removed the tin's lid before responding. "It must simply be Kiros. The president hasn't done anything to me. So far."
"I don't know about that." Kyrie grinned, snagging a handful of pretzels for herself. "You're... quite different from when I first met you."
"Well, that is your fault." He responded with a completely straight face.
Rodger smiled widely, but did nothing more than start munching on his own handful of snacks. With another glimpse at the television, he inquired, "Uh... are they planning a tour before or after they sit down and chat?"
They looked to Vincent, but he only shrugged and casually started to nibble on a single pretzel. So, Kyrie in all of her infinite wisdom, shoved the entire handful of her own snacks into her mouth, covered the tin, and hid it again. "No prmblm."
"And now I recall why you aren't here to greet heads of countries often." It seemed Vincent was on a roll. But he broke into a chuckle when he got a single finger in response.
Rodger pondered his situation. Sure he could do what his ever so couth and proper girlfriend had. But that seemed doubly appalling considering this was Kiros' "private stash" of which no one supposedly knew about. It certainly explained how the man got a hold of so much energy, secretly snacking all day. But he decided upon another road: stuffing them into his pocket. "For later." He jokingly assured the amused looks.
Just in time, too. The door on the far side of the room was just opening, and Laguna's voice could be heard going on and on about... something. Luckily, there was also some pleasant laughter to accompany it. The pretzel thieves stood up and turned around quickly, pretending that they'd been ready for this all along.
Laguna beamed at them. It seemed he and Trabia's leader were at the very least getting along. "And this would be my most important assembled staff and family... you included, Kiros." He added, over his shoulder.
Taking his cue, Vincent stepped forward and offered his flesh hand in greeting. "Mr. Echsnei. I'm Vincent Valentine, head of palace security."
"Mr. Valentine." The man greeted in a husky voice. He was almost as tall as Vincent, dressed in a gray suit with a shock of red hair. "Sorry for so little of a warning."
Kyrie watched closely, hopefully without appearing to have been studying the situation. He seemed a nice enough guy. She'd never heard anything bad about him, truth be told. And, regardless of the small parade of people he carried behind him, he seemed quite natural and at ease in this setting. She instantly resumed a polite smile as the attention was turned her direction.
"And this is my granddaughter, Kyrie, and her boyfriend, Rodger Kinneas." Laguna announced with all the pride appropriate.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Echsnei." She greeted genuinely. Hell, he hadn't done anything to piss her off. Yet, anyway.
The man actually smiled and shook her outstretched hand, nodding politely. "Kyrie Leonhart. It is very nice to finally meet you." Strangely enough, he meant it. Obviously he knew her lineage; but more than that, he knew she'd attended Trabia Garden. Not once had he had the chance to visit during his administration.
Off to the side, as Rodger was meeting and greeting, Laguna and Vincent watched. "It's interesting..." the president commented quietly, mostly to himself. "It seems like everyone that ever meets her... either really likes her or really hates her right away. I didn't used to think that was fair."
"And now?" Vincent inquired, seeing Mr. Echsnei actually chuckle at a comment most people likely wouldn't. Certainly not in the company of a man with a claw and an Almasy relation.
"Well... now I think she forces them to reveal more about themselves than they ever would have had they not met her."
Vincent grinned subtly. "You have a good point, there." Laguna clearly wasn't as all as... uh, less than observant as he was known to be. Well, not when it came to the truly important things.

The rest of the visit went off without a hitch. Quick though it was, at least nothing went wrong. Kiros still freaked a little (and looked very puzzled when he saw the top of the ottoman was slightly askew; something Even Vincent had to concentrate to keep a straight face about), but all was well. Though there was that time when Rodger had readjusted in his chair and the sound of crunching had occurred, sending he, Kyrie and Vincent into a fit of covering their mouths subtly...
The tour also went along astoundingly well. Mr. Echsnei actually commented as to how clean and well maintained the hallways were (Kiros beamed--and instantly stepped in front of the empty office that held a heap of furniture). It was a short visit, all in all, but a nice one. Relaxed, friendly, entertaining.
Almost the moment Mr. Echsnei's train left the station, Ellone's arrived. It was quite funny, actually, seeing as how Elle had heard on the radio that the visit was in progress and had taken the time and effort to change into a fancy dress in one of the train's rest rooms. "All dressed up and nowhere to go." She giggled, giving everyone her standard happy hugs.
It was quite soon after that Kyrie and Rodger had decided to go home... or more along the lines that Vincent had jokingly dismissed them, and they went along with it. It was getting late, they were (miraculously) tired. Dinner was a couple of tuna sandwiches, some Coke. No big deal, really. But it was so gratifying to eat in their own house. Eerie, but neat.
Kind of weird to be eating at a real table, though. And certainly here... Kyrie couldn't help but think of how wrong it felt to be sitting in Seifer's old spot. Rodger had picked Squall's randomly, but... that felt weird, too. Not bad, not wrong, but... different.
She missed them. Terribly, really. Sometimes she'd wake up with their voices in her mind, like the days when one of them would venture in to wake her up for some sort of day long adventure. When she opened her eyes, they'd adjust to the room around her and she would see that she wasn't in her room anymore, let alone on the same continent. It was all she could do to stifle a moan from time to time.
But she did not cry. And she didn't really understand why that was. She never could have explained it, let alone really understood it. It hurt so badly to know she'd never see them again, to know how they died. Secretly, she did blame herself a little. The "what ifs" built up after a while. And she always had that same cold, distant look in her eyes when she thought about it. It made her face look half dead and hollow, but every once in a while she just couldn't help it.
Feeling Rodger's hand reach across to cover hers shook her out of it. She blinked like she'd been struck and stopped looking through him, to look at him. "Passing thought." She dismissed quietly.
"Yeah, I know." He countered.
She felt comfort in his tone, but worry in his touch. Shooting him a questioning look, she waited for an answer.
"I don't know." He admitted quietly. "But... you never did cry for them. Not once."
"Not my style." She joked.
He smiled knowingly at that. It was definitely true, sure. But... "I just don't know. I'd hate to think you were... holding it all in or anything like that."
"You'd hate to think a lot of things." She teased slightly. "It still doesn't seem... whole. Real. Complete. I don't know why. It's like... there's a portion missing. I don't... I'm not sure I understand it any better."
He nodded at her explanation, just glad she was still talking to him. To have been shut out would have been absolutely awful. The fact she would talk of the painful things even though she had so little to say was comforting.
The silence in this place was just too much for her to bear at that moment in time. "Well then. If you don't mind, I think I'll make a quick check on Cloud, and then we'll go to bed."
He smiled, knowing it was not an intentional avoiding subject change. "Sounds good."

Hey, Spikey Head. You awake?
Funny. Flashed up on the screen, followed by, Really.
Funny ha-ha or funny shut up? she ventured.
I don't need to answer that.
Too true. She responded, glad for the humor. How goes out there in the depths of space?
Boredom for the moment. Hey, isn't it getting late there?
Yeah. She admitted. But I thought I'd make sure you weren't dead or anything. I mean, then I wouldn't be able to impress people.
Morbid tonight, are we? he joked.
I just wish you'd come back down, Cloud. She typed without thinking it through.
Are you alright? popped up quickly.
Yeah. She responded after cracking her knuckles. I'm fine. Just a weird mood, I guess. I mean, shit, think about it. You're floating around in space with a freaky head and I'm chatting with you every day from the planet way down below.
That doesn't seem normal, no... he agreed. But... it works, right?
It has to. She responded. I guess that's what bothers me.
Yeah, I know what you mean. He assured her. Responsibility sucks.
Well, at least that made her laugh. Like a fuckin' leech.
Now go to bed. He advised.

She walked into the bedroom with a yawn. What a day. Moving furniture, flinging quips back and forth between family and friends like it was pudding in a food fight, meeting heads of countries. Just another day, really. She looked at Rodger, suspiciously looking back at her.
His infamous peeling off of the shirt followed by the fling was finished not by the usual yawn and stretch, but by the ever so slow unbuckling of his belt. Equally slowly he tugged the end out, a vicious smile starting to cross his lips. She wanted dessert from earlier? She'd get dessert. He wrapped the buckle end around his right hand and slowly stretched out his arms so that the belt was taunt between his fists. He expertly gave her that glorious little devious expression through the hair that had fallen into his face and waited patiently for the reaction.
It was instantaneous. "Damn you." She whispered, already having surrendered. He'd just gotten to know her too fucking well. He manipulated that leather against her flesh with fucking mastery, knowing just where and how hard at just the right moment.
He didn't even bother moving; he knew he had her. His voice dropped to a growl, low and powerful. "Take off your clothes and get on the bed."
The jokes and smart-ass comments ceased with that order. This was too good. She did as commanded quickly, leaving the garments along with the guilt on the floor where they landed. She knew the drill--and she wasn't tired of it one bit. On the bed, hands and knees.
The first unexpected crack found her shoulder. She fought to keep all sound inside but a steady breathing; a challenge. That was instantly answered as a weight settled right behind her, then an arm was wrapped around her neck. She let herself be pulled backwards, leaning against him. The smoothness of his chest and the coarseness of his jeans was a lovely sensation when mixed with the teeth marks he left in her neck. As he bit down, his palm gently slid between her legs.
That certainly enticed a gasp. Challenge accepted and won, damn. Before she even had the chance to gain balance on all fours again as she was thrown back down, another crack struck a broad path across her back. Then three lashes in rapid succession. As the last crack echoed in her head, over her skin, it was joined by the sound of his zipper.
Ah, second challenge. And so quickly. She intentionally waited until she heard the thump of the fabric into the floor before she bolted forward--caught by almost viciously strong hands by her hips and yanked back. She bit her tongue as she felt the whispers of soft flesh lightly against her thighs, just waiting...
Then he shoved her forward, landing on top of her. One hand scooped securely around her neck while the other supported him as he rubbed slowly and deliberately against the small of her back.
She let go for a moment just to enjoy this sensation--then it was on to answering the challenge. He'd let go of the belt. In fact, she could see it. She bucked once, testing against the rhythm, then twice with force. With the same, purely instinct driven movement, she turned her body over and rolled, grasping him around the neck, so that she wound up on top, looking down at him. In that motion, she had successfully grasped the belt; she looped it around his neck and pulled it tight before he could so much as struggle against her.
His domination was shattered in a completely uncontrollable moan. She always knew exactly when to take him by surprise and turn the tables. He felt her slowly, deliberately seat herself on top of him--though, considering he was not wearing protection, she did not allow him entry--and pull the belt just a little tighter so that it bit into his flesh. With that came almost painfully slow movement.
Second challenge answered, but not completed. One hand looped around the belt and the other pressed against his shoulder for balance, she sped up the pace. A steady rhythm of fasts and slows, short and long ensued until she leaned further down and gained her own pleasure--with it, finally offering the speed and frequency so important to release, sliding farther down at the last possible second.
Arms wrapped around her, fingernails clawing, muscles tensing, breath hitching... and then the desperate grasp onto something became a lazy hug. Her fingers were practically numb as she loosened the belt and took it off. Before recovery comes safety. Once the belt was out of the way, she gave in and collapsed, totally exhausted and quite sore. After a long, thorough silence, she finally found the strength to murmur, "We have to go to bed, now."
He laughed through the heavy breathing. "In a minute."
She grinned, gently lifting and dismounting like one would a horse, getting the box of tissues on the night stand. "Did I do good?"
"Done real good." He panted, a wide smile on his face. "Hope I left a mark this time."
She grabbed a tissue for herself, then turned around for his inspection. It sure as hell felt like he'd left something.
"Barely bleeding." He teased, grasping for the offered tissues.
After the cleaning (and the recovery), they dawned their respective undergarments and pulled back the covers, sliding into their bed. It was no longer quite as weird as it was the night before. Now it was starting to get... comfortable. Homey. Their tiring activities and satin sheets were certainly a glorious way to end a day.
"I love you." He whispered softly. Nightly routine; but those words had never lost their original meaning.
"I love you, too." She whispered back, pressing even closer up against him.

She sat bolt upright, dripping with cold sweat, her hands holding the covers around her in a vice grip. Nightmare. She tried to tell herself. Just a nightmare. A really bad nightmare.
"Kyrie?" Rodger was shaken awake by the sudden movement.
She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. "Nightmare." She said quietly.
"No kidding." He commented, sitting up to lightly press his palm against her back. She was radiating heat so furiously that he almost yanked his hand back. "You're burning up."
"Might be getting sick, then." She convinced herself as much as him. "Shouldn't have shaken hands with all of those damn people."
A little ease settled over her boyfriend's mind as he sat up with her. "S'pose not. I bet world leaders are notorious for not washing their hands."
Her heart was still racing, but she grinned at him. "Maybe they believe themselves above germs."
He rubbed her back gently, getting used to the heat as the skin slowly cooled off. "It's not usual you have nightmares." He commented. "At least, not like this."
"Never had one like this at all." She rubbed her eyes, recovering her hold on reality. She collected the shatters of the dream, somewhat surprised that she could still recall almost every detail. She wished to hell she didn't. "Sephiroth." She murmured. "It was Sephiroth."
Completely understandable why she'd woken like that, he thought. She'd told him long ago everything that had happened, and everything she knew of the man. Attractive though she found him physically... there was a discouraging fear there. Not of the man, really, but what he'd done--what he was capable of doing. She didn't know the whole of the story, but she knew Cloud and Vincent felt similarly in the fear matter.
Regardless of knowing she was awake, and knowing it had been an incredibly real and detrimental nightmare... she still felt a little trapped by it. The memory just would not fade. Not even in childhood had she had dreams like this. But, cooled off and soothed, she let Rodger guide her back under the covers and to sleep.