Setting: Ikari Headquarters, somewhere in South Town

Time: Fall; approximately September

Reference: AU; sometime after Ash has stolen Iori's powers

Disclaimer: King of Fighters, characters, etc are copyright to their own creators, I am merely a fan.

Leona awoke, for the thirteenth night in a row, with a start. Deep blue eyes wide, pale skin drenched in sweat, she stared up at the ceiling above her, gasping for breath as her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest. Every night, for the past thirteen nights, it had been the same: she would fall asleep and some time during the night, nightmares would plague her mind until she woke up, sweating and gasping for air.

With a soft groan, the warrior closed her eyes, a hand coming to her forehead as she willed her heart to slow. When her breathing and heartbeat returned to something resembling normal, she slipped out of bed and padded on bare feet to her bathroom, the fluorescent light flickering a few times as she stared into the mirror over her sink. From a combination of the lighting and the recent lack of sleep, her skin seemed ghostly, almost gray, and if she didn't know better, she would have thought she was getting sick. And in a way, she was, because every time the nightmares woke her, she was certain that she would vomit.

Blood soaked images.. memories of her child hood.. memories from the '97 tournament.. Things that she could never remember when she was pulled out of the Riot were afflicting her mind, and at first, she had wondered how and why she was suddenly remembering these things, but after a while, she grew to not care. The images were disturbing her, mentally and physically. -That- was all she cared about. She didn't need to think about the blood, about the carnage, about the chunks of skin -she- ripped from innocent peoples' faces and necks. All that mattered was that she was a soldier, and these things should not, no, could not, affect her job. It had happened once, in the past, and she had nearly failed a mission because of it. Ever since then, she knew that she could not fail like that ever again.

Sighing softly, Leona gazed at herself in the mirror, reaching out and pulling a lower eyelid down to examine her eye. Blood shot, again. Ralf would certainly poke fun at her for it, as he had done for the past week. With another sigh, she tore her eyes away from the mirror only to look down at her hands. The tips of her fingers were slightly darker than the rest of her hands, the skin permanently stained from the blood she had spilled from all those innocent people. But that wasn't where her eyes were focused for she had gotten used to the discoloration. Instead, she stared at her palms. The normally pale and calloused skin was dark and scarred, burned, as though she had shoved her hands into a lit fireplace.

Blue flames.. raging infernos.. Images of blue fire flashed in front of her mind's eye, and she grunted, quickly shutting and rubbing her eyes as though trying to rid herself of the images. She had dreamed about that too, about strange blue flames. She had also awoken a few times during the week to find her hands encased in flame. The moment she noticed it, and her body began to panic, they were gone, as though she had just been dreaming it.

Leona gripped the sink before her and leaned forward until her forehead was pressed against the cold glass of the mirror, her eyes closed. What was going on? Why were these dreams suddenly bothering her? Why were they the same every night? If it kept up, she probably -would- wind up sick, what with a lack of sleep. Sure, as a soldier, she had trained her body to go without sleep for long periods of time, but never for -this- long. She was lucky to get a good three hours a night, and she was well aware that it was -not- healthy.

It was not something she enjoyed admitting, but Leona needed help. She needed to know why these nightmares were bothering her. She needed to know why her hands were spouting fire. But most of all, she needed to learn how to control the Riot, because -that- was what was -always- in the back of her mind every time she woke up. She was certain that -everything- was connected to her Orochi blood. Over the years, she had learned of eight other people who had a similar... problem. Six of them were dead and one of them was psychotic, which meant he wouldn't be any help. That only left one person: Yagami Iori.

Out of the other eight, Yagami was the only one who had, at one point, been in the same position as her - being controlled by the Riot. But he, unlike her, had learned to control it. If he, that undisciplined, rude, selfish man, could learn to control the blood curse, than -she- could too, she was certain of that much. The problem was, would he help her? More than likely not. But Leona -needed- his help, whether or not he wanted to give it. She knew she would have to break out of her own shell to try and convince him, in some way, to help her because Leona was not the type of person to ask for help, let alone -talk- to anyone outside of her Team Mates and "father". But, she was realizing that she would -have- to do both if she wanted to help herself.

After showering and changing, Leona left her quarters to make her way to the training room because when she was there, even Ralf never bothered to try and talk to her. It was in the training room that she would begin to formulate her plan.

Fingers
The blood stains were inspired by the fic "Warrior", a King x Leona fic (no slash) and although it's a couple I don't like, the fic is still very nice to read.

A long time ago, I read a Leona x Iori fic on Sakura Lemon FF Archive, and honestly, it's what pretty much inspired this writing. Sadly, the site has been taken down, and I haven't been able to re-read the fic or give credit where it's due. If anyone knows who the author of said fic is (sadly, I don't even remember the NAME of the fic, it's been so long), or knows of a place where I can re-read it and thus give credit for bits and pieces that inspired my writing, please let me know.