Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ The Sins of Two Fathers ❯ Chapter 14 ( Chapter 14 )

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

"The Sins of Two Fathers" and the general overall concept of "The Sins of Two Fathers" is completely copyright Orin Drake 1999-2003, as are the character Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas. The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?), Laguna Loire, Irvine Kinneas, Selphie Timett, Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?), Sephiroth and Cloud Strife 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. Kyrie and Rodger are mine, the rest are not.
Background: To be completely honest, I had no idea this was going to turn into a serious story. All I started writing was as a free-for-all squickfic yaoi fan fantasy, but it got so out of my control that the characters are actually... endearing. What have I done?! Ah well. Lesse, there's a real obvious homosexual relationship, but they don't really do anything in this chapter, so... oh, there's language. You know me, I like my nasty language, so look out.

She smiled in spite of it all. In spite of everything. Her parents were dead, yes. But so was the guilt, in a way. It wasn't their fault, and it hadn't been taken to the grave. It just seemed like it had been... freed. She swallowed the sobs that threatened to interrupt her moment of calm as she laid the flowers on their graves. White lilies for Seifer and white roses for Squall. Why, she never really questioned. That's just... how it was.
Instead of her own loss, she thought of Laguna's as she kneeled just for a moment in the tall grass. His wife, and now his son. Gone. He didn't have much of a chance to know him. But she'd tell him whatever he needed to know. It wasn't the same, but it would do. She could ponder her own losses another day. A little blind faith in the workings of the universe can be a positive thing from time to time.
She stood up and looked over the hill. She could just hear the beginnings of bagpipes. The others would be here in a matter of minutes, so it was time for her to get going. Her pace was quick enough to stay far ahead of them, but slow enough so that she wouldn't be that far ahead. Just a good distance so she could watch without being seen.
She could not attend the funeral service. She would not. She'd made her peace, and there was no reason to re-visit that. Everyone understood. Or at least said they did. She kind of felt bad about not being there with Laguna of all people, but he had Ellone. Quistis liked to take bad news all by herself, so she was fine. Everyone else had something else to worry about, she rather liked to think. But she did stand on the crest of the far hill overlooking the graveyard, watching for a moment as the people gathered. Everyone was crying. Everyone. She wouldn't have been able to take that.
She glanced over her shoulder as she heard a twig snap. "I thought you said you'd wait back at the station." She'd promised him a little tour of the area.
Vincent nodded slowly. "I got tired of waiting."
There was nearly something encouraging about that. Maybe not the words themselves, but how he said it. She wasn't sure. With one last glance over the crowd in the graveyard, she began to walk alongside him back to Esthar Station. "What will you do, Vincent?" she inquired softly.
He stopped and looked at her for a moment, pondering. "I suppose I will find out about the world before anything else. Then... we shall see." As an afterthought, he added, "As long as the nightmares don't come."
She nodded softly and looked away. She understood. After so long being locked away, the world was different. Much had changed, and anyone and everyone he'd ever known was officially long gone now. He had his own demons to make peace with, anyway.
"And what will you do, Kyrie?" he returned, genuinely curious.
She looked into the mirror of red eyes, startled for a moment, his question catching her off guard. "I don't really know yet." She admitted. "Make peace with old enemies, maybe."
"They aren't your enemies to make peace with." He reminded her without needing to be told of the situation.
"No, they aren't." She admitted. "But I won't feel right until I try." For a moment, she just wanted to let the subject drop. But then she thought of the future, and was certain that it wouldn't let her forget. "I kind of wish you'd decide to stay around."
He stared blankly. "And why is that?"
"Selfish reasons." She admitted quietly. "One day I had two fathers... and the next day I had none." How to put that... she never was good with the emotional crap. "But, damn you. You were there. I felt it."
His terse laugh felt foreign even in his own ears. "Maybe there is more to this than anyone knows, yet."
She sighed, feeling a little too greedy. As if her own loss would cause her to hold onto anything that eased the situation. "It's your life, Vincent. Your freedom. Just... let me know what you decide."
He caught her wrist very gently in his clawed hand before she had the chance to turn away from him. "Maybe you've given me a purpose. For a little while, anyway."
Unknown to her, Cloud's words had kept Vincent from sneaking away. "Take care of her, personally. For me." But having her confirm that she didn't mind him hanging around had just driven it home.

A strange girl wandered into Balamb just before sunset. She looked pretty military and quite odd, like a refugee from a distant war somehow. People glanced over as her boots lightly crunched against the stones of the road, but looked away when they saw how she was dressed. Black leather pants, blood red shirt, and a black leather jacket graced her frame in form fitting splendor; but on the back of her jacket was a bloodcross as vibrant red as her eyes. Around her neck was the symbol of their saint; Griever. On one thigh, a strange metal band gleamed with every step; on the other was strapped her miraculous and very rare weapon of choice, Eleison.
The girl made no apologies to anyone for being there. She just walked on without looking at anyone or anything in particular. She knew exactly where she was going. Two doors down on the public street, she stopped. The people looked away and scattered, and she waited until all was silent.
She knocked on the door. No response. She waited for several minutes, then knocked again, harder. She swore she heard footsteps moving around inside, but she wasn't sure. Once more she pounded her fist against the door, over and over in a steady rock and roll rhythm.
At long last, she heard the inside latch click. She took a deep breath, and waited. There was absolutely no idea what to expect here.
Slowly, the door creaked open. She could see one blue eye, a lock of gold hair, and the smallest indication of a facial tattoo. "What do you want?" an unexpectedly bitter voice demanded.
Good question. Why was she here in the first place? "Zell Dincht?" She knew it was him, but this was for conversation.
The man paused, glaring at her. Her pendant, the collar, her coat, her weapon. "Yeah."
"I bet you know who I am." She immediately assumed.
"Yeah." He answered again. "So what do you want?"
She stared at the hateful depths of that single eye for only a moment, wondering who started that cycle of betrayal first. "I just wanted to see you. That's all." It was the truth. It wasn't fancy or interesting, but it was the truth.
He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he stepped back and opened the door all the way. He looked just like the old pictures. Different clothes of course; he was in torn jeans and a long sleeved white t-shirt with a couple of old oil stains. He'd gained a little weight, and his face had aged. But it was Zell, no doubt at all.
What more could she say or do? She'd gotten what she'd come for. It seemed like he was no better off than any of the rest of their old group. Not that it mattered. She sighed, turned, and started to walk out of town.
"Hey!" he shouted behind her, grabbing both shoulders and turning her around.
She didn't really resist. She didn't want to. She was truly interested in what he had to say, be it terrible or otherwise. "What?"
Zell looked very uneasy. Like he'd seen a ghost. In essence, he had. She sure felt like one. "What happened to them?"
"They're dead." She said simply.
She was certain nothing could have surprised her more than what took place at that moment. She thought he'd just let her go, just let her walk on her way back to Rodger and home. But instead, he wrapped his arms around her and started sobbing. It made her very uncomfortable to say the least. Not that she could blame him for cutting connections, she supposed. In his mind, both Seifer and Squall had betrayed him, as well as Quistis. When you couldn't deal, you cut yourself off. That's how it was. This embrace, though... it didn't feel right. It was weighted with guilt and hatred that seemed to have no direction other than outward. Just outward.