Ties that Bind and Tear Apart and the general overall concept of Ties that Bind and Tear Apart are completely copyright Orin Drake 2005, as are the characters Kyrie Almasy Leonhart Kinneas (maybe Loire is in there somewhere..?), Rodger Kinneas and John Sparda. The name/idea of Sparda and the weapons Ebony and Ivory are copyright Capcom. The names of Griever, Vincent Valentine, Cloud Strife, Squall Leonhart, Seifer Almasy, Rinoa Heartily, Quistis Trepe, Laguna Loire and probably a million other things I'm forgetting are copyright Squaresoft. Riku, Sora, Traverse Town, Leon, the Heartless, Ansem, the Unknowns and a million others are copyright Square and probably Disney... and whatever else I've forgotten. I'm not making money from this, so what the hell are you worried about?
Background: Same Kyrie and same universe as, in order, deep breath The Sins of Two Fathers, Retribution Nor Redemption, Descendants of the Mundane, and Fool's Journey. I suppose this story specifically came from Fool's Journey (and Make 'em Smile, and This Mess... but nevermind), in one sense... but really, it was spawned by a theoretical conversation by a friend one late, late night. (And I still hate you. grin) It's set a few months after Fool's Journey, by the way.
Possible WARNINGS: You better believe this will likely contain a lot of foul language, "possible" weird sexual situations, relationships that are generally considered not part of the mainstream, plenty of violence, and a hell of a lot of screwing with the heads of readers and characters alike. If you've read anything of mine before, you probably know what to expect. It's gonna get dirty in here. Also keep in mind that this was thought up and written well before any plot detail on Kingdom Hearts 2 came out, so... yeah.
GREAT BIG STORY-RELATED NOTE: A lot of of this story was "planned" (as much as I can plan anything with Kyrie) well before Kingdom Hearts 2 came out. At this point, I've almost completely spoiled myself as to plot points of the game (yay spoilers!)... but I'm rather planning to stay with the original direction this story was going in, in the first place. Therefore, there will be references to Kingdom Hearts 2, but... generally don't worry about me spoiling anything for you. I guess that makes this AU. Dammit.

Ties that Bind and Tear Apart
Chapter 7
By Orin Drake

She watched the morning sunlight sneak through the crack between the curtains covering the front windows, taking her damn sweet time to wake up. Even before her eyes opened, her chest was tight--too tight for any restful sleep--with anxiety... frustration... and, little though she cared to admit it, anticipation. The battle storm was coming... and despite her unwillingness to shed blood, the adrenaline rush was a very natural thing.
Not that life was ever boring. Not that she'd prefer adventure over sleeping in with her boys. But... that damn curiosity was going to kill her some day... as did her sense of "right"... or whatever the hell it was. The wanting to know what had happened, wanting to see it all with her own eyes... wanting to help. For Sora's sake.
She let out a mild sigh at her own stupidity. She hadn't exactly been invited to help. A choice was never given, nor inferred. She understood that much, completely... but she didn't have to appreciate it fully.
John, who'd heard the sigh, turned over to face her direction; which, in turn, woke Rodger just enough to roll onto his back and snore, once. Loudly. It was unknown whether his own snoring had ultimately woken him, or if it had been the chuckles that followed... but he wished he knew who to blame.

Showers were short and single-file... and no one went downstairs. Not yet... not until they were all... ready.
Kyrie was first in the shower out of the sheer need to wash away as much as possible from her skin... as if it were all that easy. Not usually one for short showers, she barely bothered to stand in the hot stream let alone use soap and shampoo... but there was no reason to smell bad just because a new journey was at hand. At least that thought was kind of amusing.
Rodger was next, if only because he'd managed to stumble toward the bathroom a little faster than John. Or perhaps it was because he was groggier and therefore hadn't the mind about him to smile appreciatively at his wife's naked form. Either way.
Another uncharacteristically quick shower later, and John was next in. It was at that point when Rodger was awake enough, aware enough... to feel the dread washing over him. To the rest of the world, Kyrie was merely dressing. Underwear, jeans, shirt... but he felt it like a force of nature. That cold again. That call of duty... calm before battle. Her learned, highly developed, cold ice storm. It was almost hard to accept... but a necessity.
If he were ever forced to admit it, Rodger would have to say that Kyrie's cold was a thing that made him extremely uneasy. An asset in combat, yes... but before the actual battle, it made her seem foreign. Unknown to him, distant.
The ice over her eyes softened a bit when she realized he was looking at her as though she were a complete stranger. It was a... moment of realization, to put it lightly. "Battle mode." She explained and apologized at once.
He nodded. "I get it. I just wish it didn't have to happen."
She didn't explain... but she didn't need to. Riku was downstairs... and he would be waiting. There was a chance, if they didn't go downstairs soon, that he would take it upon himself to move them in that direction...
She closed her eyes, trying to clear the thought from her head. Riku was not the enemy. He was simply forced to use... methods that she did not entirely enjoy. She understood his drive--that was the difficult part.
John striding proudly out of the bathroom with no effort to hide his nudity was the thing that changed her thought process--she only wished it had been for the better. She knew she had to tell someone they were... headed elsewhere, for a while. Really, there was only one person to tell... and she didn't want to. To put more weight on him was... hardly fair...
Though, she knew. She knew he'd have wanted her to inform him, regardless of the circumstance. Probably not by calling, but... she didn't think she'd have the chance to visit, nor did she think he'd have let her go if she were to walk into his office with her ice mask on. It was all she could do not to let out a soul-wracking sigh at the very idea...
She walked to the phone on the other side of the bed, confident her mood was being read. Needing to retain her calm, regain her confidence... she sat on the mattress and pulled the phone from its base. Long ago she'd been granted everyone's contact information, hoping she'd never have to use it. With that hope firmly in place, she'd memorized numbers, steps, turns and addresses. The buttons practically pressed themselves from that hopeful memory that she'd never need them.
One ring. Two. The third was cut short. "Hello."
Short. Professional. He hadn't checked his caller I.D., likely expecting it to be a call from inside the Estate. "Hey, Vincent."
A long, dark silence. She never called. And certainly not his personal cell... "Kyrie."
She forced herself to take a steady breath, quiet enough not to be heard over the phone. Or so she'd hoped. "Just wanted you to know... if you don't see us for a few days, will you come check on the house?"
Another long, pregnant silence. The professionalism remained, likely as a tactic to keep his emotion in check rather than to indicate anyone else was in the room. "Of course. Planning to go away?"
What a way to put it... "Things still have to be done." She simplified, fighting to keep her voice as steady as his. It came out flat, and she knew it... but it was better that way. The less he knew...
His heart sank... and she heard it in his voice. "I see."
"Catch you soon." She wanted to say "I love you"... but maybe it wasn't the time.
"Be careful, Kyrie." He responded, similarly holding back... but not as much, at least. That was enough spoken. The rest was understood.

It was well past dawn as Riku continued to wait at the kitchen table. Not that it was getting late, by any means... but every moment that ticked by was a moment closer to his goal; it was hard to wait.
Then--the door opened. Footsteps. He sat up straight, gazing toward the entranceway... and forced himself to wait some more. Three sets of steps... Indeed two gentlemen emerged with her... interesting.
Young as they were... all three of them looked like warriors. It may have been the grim atmosphere, the heavy footsteps... but likely it was just the three of them together, as ready as they'd ever be.
Kyrie lead them, feeling at home in no other place than directly at the front. Seifer's collar tight around her left thigh. Tucked under her simple white shirt, was her wedding ring. Out front for all to see shone Griever. And then, of course, there was Eleison... her gunblade. She'd chosen to wear the jacket she'd had made years previous--black leather, the cut unconsciously resembling Squall's old bomber jacket... with the Bloodcross brightly gracing its back.
Rodger was right behind her, his prized and shining rifle held lightly across his chest as if in prayer. He was geared up the least of all of them--jeans, a t-shirt, some rugged old boots... but not to be underestimated. He'd learned the trade of fighting dirty over time, and his will was enough to wrestle through any situation--it shone in his eyes. The distant guardian, the watcher sometimes... he could be a fighter, if he needed to be.
John followed last, finding himself natural in the position of watching their backs. He'd learned, over time, that when in Hell, one wore leathers; logic followed that he had no idea where they'd wind up, but that "just in case" seemed the perfect occasion for his bartered (and very worn) red leather pants and his old black leather cycle jacket, an old black t-shirt worn gray peeking out from underneath. Hey, might as well be comfortable. His father's sword on his back and guns at his hips, he was feeling pretty damn confident, too.
Riku couldn't help but notice how cold Kyrie's eyes had gone. Battle would do that to anyone, eventually... he knew that all too well. Her cold was of a different sort, though. It took him a while to realize it was a battle mask, showing nothing of the girl that had tried to get him to eat with every good intention mere hours ago. He lifted from his place at the table as their decent ended, walking out of the kitchen and standing before them in silence.
John felt taint rolling off of his form like a demon, but he said nothing. He was pretty sure he didn't have to. One didn't need to be half devil to understand the boy was of some... unnatural darkness. He made a mental note to watch closely, anyway, eyes narrowing when the robed form stepped in front of them and looked to them as if in appraisal.
The word on Riku's lips was ludicrous... but he knew he must speak it, regardless. "Prepared?"
For a short breadth of time, they all expect Kyrie's response to come with violence if not venom... but she trained herself well. All coldness. "Yes." There was no more time for preparation. Nothing else was to be done... and that moment was never a good one. The three of them were decked out in what could only be called battle gear... as ready as they'd ever find themselves. It was time to get it over with.
Riku had no choice but to believe her. Time was already too short--he had to get back. He needed these things completed. With little acknowledgment, he turned and walked again to the window in the living room that he had passed through to arrive there. Hand outward, fingers splayed and palm not quite touching the glass, he recited words that he honestly did not recognize under his breath. The glass shuddered... and became liquid again.
Kyrie felt her stomach drop. She didn't dare look behind her to see the expressions on Rodger's or John's faces... but she had a pretty good idea of what would be there. Forcing her feet to move before she lost her resolve entirely, she followed the boy to the window... and stared at the glistening, moving surface. Everything that existed within her told her not to go through with this... but just as much of herself knew what was likely to happen if she didn't.
"I have to enter last." Riku informed them quietly. "To seal the gateway."
John was familiar with that. Not that he'd found himself capable of that sort of magic, but he knew the dynamics of it; when you opened a gateway, be it between worlds or simply two locations in the same realm, you had to make the effort to seal it if you didn't want it open for the rest of eternity. At least the stranger seemed to have that much together... but he still didn't like it. Not a bit of it.
"One at a time, is it?" Kyrie merely guessed, her tone flat and void. That was how things went, really... the moment you needed a hand to hold onto, the rules were against it.
"I would recommend it." Riku responded. "You'll... see why. Just be sure to move when you land."
Well, that was... intriguing. Sounded like an order to be followed, though. She bit her lip and took a breath... this could be done. This had to be done. She looked again into the moving surface of glass and something other... then passed through without another thought.

"Landing" was nothing that she did. Spinning, melting, melding through a spectrum of sensation and somehow managing to wind up with her feet on solid ground, yes. It felt more like the ground beneath her tried to pull itself out from under--but at least it got her to stumble forward, effectively "moving" just as Riku had suggested.
Good thing--seconds later she felt another body crash into hers, knocking them both to the ground. "Sorry." She heard Rodger mumble above her.
She didn't have the chance to acknowledge him before a third body stumbled into them--with an "Oof!" that they recognized right away. As a collective lump, they braced themselves for a fourth to join their pile... but it never happened.
Riku stood confidently behind, seeming slightly amused. He was too used to the shifts between worlds... or perhaps it had never affected him to begin with. Hard to remember... He shook his head with the thought, clearing his throat to give them motivation.
John was quite obviously the one who should get up first, having landed on top... but he seemed least interested in the idea. Taint both different and familiar surrounded them, coming from all things he saw, smelled, touched, tasted... It was not Hell, no... but it was no less unnerving. When instinct says that the safest possible location is flat on the ground on top of one another... something is wrong. He would watch, though... they would all be careful. He lifted, giving a hand to the others below him.
Kyrie was just glad to be able to breathe without straining again--for a moment. Upon closer inspection of their arrival point... breathing seemed hardly appropriate. She had hoped to see the strange and quiet beauty that she'd witnessed when she'd been in Traverse Town before... but it was gone. Worse than gone--it'd been slaughtered. The very feel of the land hung in tatters, to say nothing of the visual representations of that essence. Something truly horrible had devastated everything, leaving the sky dark and the buildings partially (if not completely) destroyed. There was no hotel anymore. No internal city walls. No more shops and hardly even what one would call skeletons of old houses remained. Were it not for the distinct feeling the place contained, she'd never have known it to have ever been Traverse Town at all.
Fire might have been a culprit, at some point... but it was not alone. Ashes lay about the broken streets, but so did scattered debris bearing no burn marks. Too many shattered cobblestones bore markings that looked like dried blood.
"It hasn't been that long..." she whispered. "Has it?"
Riku had turned away, eyes trained on the distance so he didn't have to acknowledge their reactions. Traverse Town was never a home to him... but it was to Sora. "On this side, two years have passed since you've been here."
So much about the whole situation was just... too cruel. Entirely too awful. Everything was gone... razed... beaten bloody and left in tatters...
Her breath caught in her throat at one particular point in her field of vision. It looked like any other piece of building, at first... but she saw movement. She knew she did--and she was not alone in it. Motion caught all eyes expecting stillness, and they moved in together. The possibility of something moving that was not poised to kill them was slender, but if a glance at Riku's surprised expression was any indication... it was possible.
Closer, mere meters away--and Kyrie ran. No, no... Hyne, no... She stopped in a crumpled kneel without thought in front of the broken man. It was all she had in her not to shout for her dad. It was... it had to be... it looked like him, but he wasn't... it didn't... "Leon!"
His eyes wouldn't focus on her for a moment... and even when they did, it made no sense to see her there. He finally gave up, letting his heavy eyelids drop; but his heart sought her out, anyway. "Ky...rie..." he choked, remembering. "I thought... it was another... halluc-- I-I..."
It was eerie. Too eerie in too many ways. Gray strands throughout his hair were bad enough, but... but the rest... Familiar and even more horrible, all at once. He'd bled, recently... been beaten, by the look of things. The sharp lumps in his arms, his legs... they'd looked to have been broken numerous times and never properly set... and still by the way his limbs were angled, there were bones broken anew. She shuddered to look into his distant eyes when they could open, not knowing whether the fact that his eyes were both still there or that it really felt like one should be missing was what tore most at her stomach.
Leon made every possible effort to focus again when more footsteps had come up and settled around him. Two forms he didn't know, couldn't afford to look for in his fading memory... And Riku... he knew he saw Riku... "What... have you... become..?" Perhaps he would have continued, but consciousness rolled out of his grasp.
Horrors. Cruelly dulled, pressing wounds into the flesh, into the mind... Only stunned and frightened silence came from behind her; not that anything could or should have been said. It was all too sudden... too awful... too much... How she'd managed to get her own legs underneath her was a mystery she'd rather never ponder.
It was awful. It was so, so awful. Details had ceased to be important long ago, but... but this one needed to be addressed. Rodger wrapped an arm around his wife and pulled her toward him, turning her into a perfectly necessary embrace. He gave her a silent, strong hug--and felt her clutching weakly at the back of his shirt. He had to admit, he was quite amazed at her reserve... though he wasn't sure how good of a thing it was. Rubbing her back, he gave another squeeze. Nothing needed to be spoken; he had to take care of this with Riku. Nodding to John as he disengaged from her (taking a moment to hold her hand), it was clear that the two of them were going to take a moment's leave.
John took over almost imperceptibly, a hand ghosting the curve of her hip to indicate that she should follow him. There was no argument, no hesitation... she needed to be removed, if only for a moment.

Rodger wasted no time in searching the larger pieces of debris for wood that could make decent splints. Hey, call him paranoid, but he'd taken to learning the art of survival since he'd gotten to know Kyrie. That... and it saved him from having to look at the man who looked exactly... exactly like...
"If I may ask..." Riku interrupted softly, "Why did she react that way?"
Should he tell him? He wondered how much the boy already knew... and what he ought to know. "It's not enough to react to something that disturbing?" he prodded softly to see where they stood.
Riku tilted his head at the question. "It was far too emotional. For her."
An interesting way to put it. Rodger took a moment to gather some strips of sturdy-looking paneling scattered about, forming his answer in his mind first. "He looks... he is, in some senses... exactly like her father. And he'd died in... similar enough circumstances."
The boy swallowed. So... things were getting even more personal. Finding it pointless to press further, he began to help in the search for splints.

They walked for a while. Past crumbled walls and chunks of mortar that looked as if they'd absorbed the essence of the sheer color of blood long ago... John glanced back only once to gauge their distance, confident it was enough for the moment. If there was trouble, he would hear them... but Kyrie would not have to see what they needed to do.
It didn't escape him how perfectly that Leon guy mirrored her old man. He knew bits and pieces of how he'd died, as well... but never directly asked about it. There didn't seem the need. Seeing her reaction, though... it was a more violent situation than he'd realized. The whole thing was... it was all so fucked up...
"It's creepy." He spoke up, addressing the situation in general.
"It is." She admitted softly. "And part of me would prefer not to leave."
"But part would?"
"Oh yeah." She shivered. Running away wasn't usually her "thing", but... it seemed damn good right about then. She knew of course that Leon had no real connections to her... but maybe it was just the way he looked, the memories that still played out in her dreams sometimes... She knew, too, it was Sora's fondness for him. Leon had been a teacher and a friend...
"This is some sick shit." John agreed, quietly.
She sighed raggedly, rubbing her eyes. "I think... I think I just need... to sit down for a moment."
Seeing her hurt was not something he enjoyed. "I've got one better." Without warning, he scooped her up into his arms and started swinging her slowly from side to side. "We'll play Ky-toss."
"Dick." She accused, trying to hide a smile.
He was careful enough not to shift her stomach (rather certain that she was already bordering on nausea), but he kept swinging her. "Mmmmmaybe. That's not necessarily a bad thing, now..."
"I regret to inform you that trying to make me throw up isn't really going to make me feel any better about anything."
"Yeah, well. It amuses me."
She struck with the cold, calculated speed of an anacondaur--directly for his rib cage, where he was most defenseless from practiced tickles. He would have merely dropped her on her ass right then had she not been hanging on so tight.
It wasn't really a moment of pure bliss, or even of forgetting... but it was a help. It kept her moving on... and going back. "Thanks, babe."
"Hey! You can't use my word!"
She stuck her tongue out at him for that one.

By the time Kyrie and John had made their way back to the others, there were several pieces of wood ready and waiting to be lashed to the broken limbs... but Rodger and Riku were only looking down at the crippled, blessedly sleeping (or blacked out, more likely) body below. They'd have to re-set the bones... but he didn't look at all up to that. Not to mention his mental state... they had nothing to ease the pain in any way. Their limited Materia could do practically nothing for him, and without the ability to use magic... They all stood there, staring down at the battered body... feeling sick, pain-ridden, and helpless.
"I can help him." Came an unexpected voice above the steady echoes of eerie silence.
They turned to see a young woman walking toward them from a crumbled, dark alley, her pink dress long since tattered and grayed, her skin darkened with what might be a combination of soot and blood... but they didn't want to know. Regardless of the condition of her body, her eyes were young. Smiling. Gentle.
There was just something... about that woman, striking Kyrie's heart... Like she ought to know her from... somewhere... But, more importantly, the feeling imparted upon her was complete and utter trust. It could nearly border on devotion, should the situation be different...
No matter. If she knew Leon, could care for him... "You're a friend, I assume?"
The woman nodded. "I'll help him, don't worry." So reassuring, so honest and calm... She turned to Riku; instead of snarling, instead of being accusing... she nodded a greeting as though they were old acquaintances rather than old enemies. "You've come back."
So. Kyrie kept to herself. They know each other. Maybe that was a good thing... maybe it meant the woman really was trustworthy...
"Yes." He managed to respond, his voice trembling. He couldn't meet her eyes, couldn't really look at her...
Again the woman smiled. "Don't worry, then. Leon will be okay. All of you, just keep going."
Some part of Kyrie wanted to stay. A surprisingly large part felt the need to never leave that woman's side... like part of her was part of something so much... larger... something she'd touched and strove for, but never really--
"Ky?" Rodger had noticed his wife's too-long pause... and maybe on some level he understood it.
She blinked, swallowing and trying to ignore the distant but somehow familiar thoughts that she hadn't quite been able to consciously grasp. Yes, to move on... wherever they were going, they had to get there without wasting time. She turned away from the strange woman and followed, doing her best to push the whole experience out of her mind until she had the time to pick it apart.

Some alleys still had partial walls. Often they were composed of cracked stones, missing their top halves and looked as if one good sneeze would topple the whole thing, but it was just the slightest bit more "comfortable" to move around in a place where you might be able to shelter yourself behind something... somewhat "solid".
They were headed toward a section that Kyrie had never been to, walking along a flow of drainage water. She could tell that they were behind what used to be the hotel from the cracked paint on the small remainders of wood left in place of an actual building, but beyond that...
Riku stopped suddenly, a soft growl leaving his throat. He could feel the Darkness shift before anyone else--and worse, it could feel him. "They know we're here, now..."
"Heartless?" Kyrie inquired softly, hand already on her gunblade.
"I hope so." Came the boy's cryptic response.
There wasn't exactly time to call him out on that; the rest of them had begun to feel a shift in the air, as well. Cold and heavy, the ground seeming to sink just slightly beneath their feet... and the impending feeling of an indescribable kind of darkness began to wrap around them. While Kyrie knew it to be familiar... it was quite a bit stronger than it had been before.
All weapons came out as the four of them made a ring, shoulder to shoulder, with shared instinct--all weapons but Riku's. It gained him a look from the gunblader at his right; certainly he didn't intend to stand back and do nothing, and she knew damn well his fragile body couldn't take hand-to-hand...
He managed to surprise them. As the shadows moved and took shape around them, the youth cast his hand out--and in it, glittering from nowhere and then to solid form, was a most unusual sword. It looked to be formed from the sharpened wing of some demon; an idea that had Kyrie shuddering internally. The worst of it, though... was the eye above the hilt... That was not the weapon of a trusted friend. Some part of Sora, deep within, cringed.
No time. Never any time. Shadows began to run and fly toward them, and it was a situation that demanded the utmost attention.
Even as the battle began, Kyrie's mind was a whir of agitation. Oh, fuck. Already. Already! She ducked from the swipes of the flying Heartless as they gained color and form, darting forward to land a good strike across several at once. At least they were, for lack of a better term, "soft"--their flesh parted easily so she could strike through more than one at every move, a rather helpful situation to be in.
Only a moment later, however, torn between watching herself and her comrades, she discovered that not all of the Heartless were so soft. In fact, some of them were armed. And, worse... some of them seemed to have the ability and presence of thought to disarm. The harsh clang that pushed a line of agony from shoulder to fingertips combined with the sudden jerk of her arm outward and away from her body caused Eleison to slip straight out of her hand.
There was no time to think about it--she darted backward instead of going straight on through, hoping to reach her weapon in a running arc around the offending Heartless. Darting in a swift zig-zag like a cat, she rolled the last few yards toward her gunblade--and ran into something a bit larger and more solid. Time would never be granted to stop and make sense of things; the whirl of darkness and the increasing number of glowing eyes around her was all she needed to get her back to moving on her feet. Fuck her weapon and fuck fighting--if she was to survive this, she'd have to find a better way to do battle.
There was no higher ground to speak of, but there were those tiny partial walls. She used elbows and shoulders to knock the enemies out of her way as she ran toward the highest alley wall she could see, knowing it was a hopeless situation, knowing they were simply multiplying, closing in on her from all sides--
To say some hidden instinct tickled her mind was not accurate. It would be truer to suggest that something straight from the heart of her reached up and slammed her head into a proverbial wall; Call it. Two words. Two words that felt like they made sense, even though they didn't. Call it.
She didn't see any other choice. She could feel cold breath at her neck, could clearly see dark shapes moving in to catch her the moment she reached that wall... Skidding to a stop, she turned. Call it, that internal voice had said. So, she held out her right hand. Well? C'mon.
The next instant found her clenching her teeth with a strong effort not to lose her footing. It hurt. It damn well tore the tendons of her hands apart--at first. The scream was breathless, surprised and full of pain, turning almost too quickly into a gasp of sheer surprise. What rested comfortably in her grasp was... a Keyblade... She was quite a bit more surprised to see it there than the witnesses to the action.
Riku had looked over when the bright flash of light erupted, fearing the worst--then gasped out of shock; the Keyblade! But then... then... Of course... of course she could call it, could hold it. If she held Sora's memories, she held portions of his heart... "Open up your heart!" he yelled.
That... meant nothing to her. But it was a trigger to Sora's memories--a door in her mind opened, revealing to her the mysteries of using the Keyblade. Her Materia spun wildly, and the blade moved in turn. No, she could never match the strength and experience of the true Keyblade Masters... but she didn't need quite that much. The Heartless continued to flow toward her in increasingly great, tall waves... but each one was torn to bits in the natural motions of the swift blade. By the time the creatures at the end of the waves had discovered what was going on, it was too late to save themselves. Momentum sped their downfall--the fabled Keyblade truly brought it about.
Hey, wait. She had the Keyblade in one hand, yeah... but that left the other. Open. Empty.
The tides turned in a vicious grin. She stalked steadily toward where Eleison lay, seeing John and Rodger taking care of as many of the Heartless around her as they could to help her motion. Breathing became more rhythmic, her muscles were warmed, rushing toward their peak performance... standing right above her weapon of choice, she began to wonder whether or not she'd be able to get it in hand to use in the first place.
She needn't have worried; Riku did some damage for her, crossing right in front to slash away at the still-coming Heartless. As he became a momentary distraction, she quickly used a foot to toss the gunblade up to her hand, feeling at least several hundred times better than she had only moments ago. Double-bladed slaughter. "C'mon, you Heartless bastards." She growled under her breath, adrenaline pumping.
The Heartless were focusing on her, sensing Sora's presence and drawn by the light gleaming off of the Keyblade. She couldn't let herself dwell on that fact, keeping herself constantly in motion. Thought process seemed to stop altogether; not in the way of falling into the perfect rhythm of battle, but more like... someone was watching her back but allowing her to use her body.
She darted with precision between John's and Rodger's shots, leapt and ducked when Riku was pressed too close to avoid her entirely. Even the armed Heartless weren't safe; one blade would catch their weapon while the other went for major organs and arteries... if they had any.
The clouds of dark figures had finally began to thin out as she found herself increasingly out of breath, her arms already aching. She pressed on in an odd sort of dance, a rhythm unto her own mind--and not one she consciously caught. Again, it was a battle drum from somewhere else that her ears refused to hear, but her heart pumped to it, her body moved to it like it was all the world. She found speed she was pretty damn certain she'd never had before, not to mention mild suggestions of skill tucked within a motion she hadn't expected, a slip of a Heartless that she was sure she wouldn't have seen let alone made use of before. It was all... surprisingly perfect. She wasn't merely whispered the answers, to to speak; she was learning them for herself.
Even after all she'd been through, it was a weird feeling. Like a watchful guardian over her shoulder, telling her when to do something rather than what to do... and she began to lose herself to it, a little. Her body was slowly beginning to falter, the muscles aching vibrantly. Just at the moment when she felt that maybe, just maybe she might be able to meld with this strange energy that kept ghosting over her mind--it released her. Not abandoned, but... seemed to set her down carefully.
Too bad it did not do so literally; she fell to her knees on the stone, panting... but grinning. They'd done it, destroyed the small army of Heartless that had attacked. It felt... pretty damn good. She had tried to force her Materia to pace themselves during the process, holding out her strength for as long as she could... and she assumed what energy was left in the orbs was the only reason for her consciousness at that point. Sure her legs had given out, but... big deal.
Oh, wait. It actually was a bit of a big deal. But only when the extremely large and desperately frightening Heartless rose from the ground. A... Nightmare, was it? Wasn't that what she remembered it being, from Sora's memory? Yeah. Well. Super.
She couldn't get up. She couldn't so much as lift her arms at that point--and the others knew it. They hadn't been blind to her dazzling and slightly beyond unusual performance only seconds ago; whatever had happened had been important, but it had taken its toll on her. They'd have to handle the rest on their own.
Riku had seen Sora in her motions. Some of the two-handed sweeps she'd used to disarm those Heartless... he'd taught the boy himself. They were still a little meek, sure. Not as swift and as confident as the Keyblade Master's himself, but... there just the same. It hurt, for a moment. Knowing without doubt that he could not dwell anywhere near that thought, he rushed toward the Nightmare that was pulling itself from the ground, preparing to attack.
Rodger and John followed suit close behind. Yes, that had been... stunning. Their similar curiosity had been piqued if not had candy waved in front of it and then hidden away cruelly--but the time to fight was not over, and one of their group was down for the count. They had to protect her as she rested while taking care of the threat... simple, right?
Not entirely as simple with a giant Heartless. And certainly not when said Heartless had a massive striking range and the habit of summoning balls of scary-looking dark energy. Unfortunately for Kyrie, between the overuse of her body and the overload of her mind, she seemed to have done a little... blacking out. What energy remained in the Materia seemed to keep her kneeling rather than falling forward, but that was hardly the most helpful thing. She needed to catch her breath, to regain her strength... but that would probably involve eating. Not really a thing they may be able to afford to do for... some time.

She "came to" with a bit of a start, a hand waved in front of her face. Feeling as though her head were weighted rather unfairly, she fought to crane her gaze up. It was John, panting but grinning like a maniac. Behind him was Rodger, looking just as tired and damn near as proud of himself. The half-devil made the inquiry. "Alright there, Ky?"
She actually took a moment to check. All limbs in order... all senses seemed to be working... Materia spinning lazily as they slowly regained their lost energy... and as far as she knew, she was conscious. "Yeah. Sure."
Her husband smirked at her response, holding out his hand to help her up. It was then that she noticed... no Keyblade. She looked up, instinctually finding Riku a few yards away, surveying the area to see if the Heartless has dropped anything of use. "The Keyblade..?" she began, tentatively.
The boy looked up, not understanding her question until she started uncurling her empty hand and wincing slightly at the muscle soreness within it. "It... returns, when you're done with it." He answered.
Well. Made sense. In it's own... weird way. Standing on her own, she made a conscious effort not to walk for a moment; her legs were still a little less than stable, nevermind how heavy her gunblade felt as she tried to slide it back into place at her side. Good thing Heartless didn't leave a mess. She was just getting around to fumbling the handle straps closed when she felt a tremble in her legs. Rather odd, seeing as how she thought she'd braced them so well. She looked up to crack a dry joke--instead, she saw the looks on the faces in front of her.
There was trembling again... but it certainly didn't belong to her legs. The whole ground was shaking, vibrating... and it wasn't an earthquake.
Only Riku didn't look remotely worried; instead, he appeared remarkably angry. "Not now." He growled between gritted teeth. "It's too soon."
That was all Kyrie knew before something very akin to sleep--but lacking the comfort and warmth--overtook her. Not darkness, not light, not even in-between and certainly not of substance... but whatever it was, it enveloped her consciousness without offering either a warning, nor an escape.

Swirling... dizzy... sightless... weightless... but not... not... here... was it..?
Instantly, Kyrie was conscious--awake, but... nowhere. It was very much like a dream... if she could have believed a dream could feel so real and genuinely insane at the same time. She felt her body, but it was... distant. As if, maybe... it wasn't her own. Against something..? Hanging somewhere..?
An icy voice in the back of her mind spoke up, destroying her thought process altogether. "You are not the Lion..."
The voice itself was almost to be expected in a dreamscape... but what it had said, the way it had spoken... No, she couldn't continue to tell herself it was only a dream. She was too damned awake for that. But, the... lion? And then it hit her: Squall was called the Lion of Balamb, by some. With that realization, finally, came warmth. No. No, I'm not...
"But you are connected to him."
How... odd. This voice... felt so safe, in its own way. Wrong for her, but right for the body it seemed to inhabit--that she also seemed to inhabit... Yes...
"Aah. You are the Lion's Cub."
Normally having been called a cub would have caused a bit of a snarl... but the voice in her mind was so delicate and kind that she understood its meaning to be innocent. Beyond that... this voice, it... knew Squall..? Who are you?
If an answer did come, it was drowned out by the painful influx of all senses and realization hitting at once--she was not asleep, not dreaming, and certainly not herself. She had no control over the aching and half-numb body she seemed to be inhabiting, instead merely forced to take stock of the experience. There was a smell, there... an awful, rotting smell mixed with cold metal. And maybe, if she focused, she could smell something resembling leather.
Or was that blood? No, she was tasting that... bitter blood, blood that wasn't fresh but wasn't going to dry up and go away quickly, either.
Eyes opened before she was ready for them to, the dim light of her new surroundings seeming to start whoever she as currently inhabiting into a panic. She felt a heart that was not her own beat frantically--and that was just about when her own skidded into a dead stop. A form had moved in front of her...
It was... Seifer! "I'm sure you can imagine what happens now." He sneered, Hyperion resting in a cocky position on his shoulder.
She could feel the warming hatred burning through a chest not her own--and then, with the voice, she understood. Squall. "What do you want?" he demanded calmly.
The blonde cut to the chase. "Tell me what SeeD is. Edea demands to know."
Edea... Sorceress Edea? She heard her dad's voice respond with as much puzzled hesitation as she felt. "Don't you already know?"
"I'm not a SeeD." Seifer spat, drawing a little closer. "There must be some kind of secret you're given when you become a SeeD!"
"There's nothing." Squall returned, seeming more annoyed with the questions than anything. "Even if there were, you think I'd tell you?"
The blonde jolted forward, pressing Hyperion far too sharply against his prisoner's throat. "You're on my 'tough-nut-to-crack' list." He grinned viciously. Cocky, enjoying the slight flash of pain and nervousness in his rival's eyes. "Didn't think you'd talk that easily."
Had Kyrie been able to flinch, she certainly would have. She'd never seen her father's eyes so full of venom... malice, cruelty... And to Squall of all people..?
Trying to ignore the fear that phrase--and the way he'd spoken it--inspired, the cold-hearted brunette found a cockiness of his own. It was the one that always infuriated the other boy, causing their battles most of the time. "Geez, I'm honored."
For a moment, those blue-green eyes wavered... but not enough. Suddenly there was neither blue nor green in them--a split second of slitted yellow appeared before his voice lowered dangerously. "So here's a little somethin' for ya."
It was then that Kyrie panicked a little herself, trapped inside her dad's body. She'd known there was torture at the prison... knew there were so many rumors and all of them horrible, but...
"I'll protect you, Cub..." she heard weakly in the background, as if that same strange, cold voice itself were struggling with all its might just to speak to her. It was a voice like no other she'd ever heard; airy but not external... more internal, but not her own. Delicate, cautious... powerful... so very unknowable.
Images, sounds--everything began to blur, then. She knew there was more to the situation... and she knew she should be more concerned about that voice, about what was happening... but it was so easy to lay back and disconnect...

Vague pictures flashing across the darkness... of a tiny island, somewhere... once filled by the laughter of children... once happy and part of another world... torn apart by choices... destroyed by darkness...

It was so much like waking from a dream that she nearly forced her body to jerk when her eyes opened far too calmly on their own accord. Her eyes again, her body... but it felt a little more foreign than it had before. A mild distance, as if in a fever. It lasted only a moment, but it was so vague but intense at the same time--
"Ky?" she heard softly, long before her eyes focused on the present.
She was certainly sitting, she realized as her eye line fell upon a familiar pair of well-worn red leather pants. That alone made her smirk. "Yeah." She responded, not quite certain why she felt the need to answer him that way.
John looked a little less than entirely easy-going. "We don't know what the hell happened. Just kinda... woke up here, but... you were out of it for a minute."
Astoundingly clear of mind with another almost unsensed shift, she stood--taking note of how perfectly normal her body felt. No aches, no strain... no tiredness at all. His words held a weight over her, however. "'Out of it'?"
He paused a moment, making eye contact as if trying to assure himself of something. "Your eyes were open, but... you, uh... weren't home." It wasn't that he was trying to hide anything. Never, for any reason. But somehow, instinct told him that he shouldn't make mention of that... odd glow in her eyes. It'd only lasted a split second, just long enough to confirm he wasn't seeing things, before it died out completely. Then there was the speaking... languages that resembled nothing he'd ever heard, spoken with such ease... He dared not mention that Rodger had felt the need to remove himself from the room altogether, too frightened and upset and generally just disturbed to stay and watch... None of those things would be helpful to her. None of them ultimately mattered if she was okay.
She blinked, looking away before she could allow a panicking fear to clasp her. They didn't know what was going on. And the assumption that Riku's mysterious words before the blackout happened ("It's too soon...") was related... The whole damn thing was simply unsettling. Not that any of that came as a surprise.
"Better now?" Rodger's words from the doorway to the connecting office distracted such thoughts for the moment.
Only then did she take a moment to inspect their surroundings. It wasn't the house, as she'd initially assumed. In fact, it looked like... one of those abandoned offices in the Presidential Estate. That thought inspired a questioning gaze thrown her husband's direction.
He could only shrug, inviting himself over to inspect her for himself. "I wish I knew. Anything. About anything."
Well, at least that summed up the entire experience for all of them. Oddly enough the first question to pass along Kyrie's mind was not as unexpected as she thought it would be. "Does Vincent know we're here?"
John made a mocking sound with a grin on his face. "Just waiting for his moment to jump out of the shadows."
She didn't necessarily feel like denying his assessment of the situation. It was more than likely both amusing and true. "We literally 'just got back', then?"
Rodger nodded. "It's only been about ten minutes since the two of us woke up."
Kyrie nodded, trying to think. Certainly even in an abandoned office, free of any furniture except chairs no one used anymore, there were security cameras. Vincent had to be aware. "Suppose I'd better get to his office, then."
"And we should do what?" the half-devil tried to make his voice sound uninterested... but a hint of worry leapt from within. He didn't like the idea of them being separated...
"Get some food." She responded without missing a beat. "I'm fucking starving."

She had to admit, even she was a little bit worried about her plan. Just because it looked like the estate didn't mean it actually was--but there was only one quickly moving Kiros in all the universe. He didn't even see her, and she was incredibly grateful for it. It was Vincent's office she had to get to, to tell him--
Two steps away from his door, and it already opened for her. He was standing on the other side with a look even more blank than his usual to greet her. Once she was inside, safe from the rest of the building and the door locked behind her, he finally spoke. "I tried to watch the security footage."
Well, that was... interesting. "And..?"
He walked over to the far wall, well beyond his desk, digging through a stack of small disks that he'd already tested to try and work out the "little problem" he'd encountered. "I was watching the live monitor, and saw the three of you... materialize." Finding the proper disk, he slid it into the almost invisible slot on the bare wall space beside it. Instantly a small portion of wall slid open to reveal a single replay monitor, playing the disk. The video was playing at high speed... but there was no sign of them ever materializing. In fact, according to the time stamp, they'd been there, motionless and on the floor, all day long.
Kyrie couldn't stifle a shudder. Obviously that hadn't been the case... And he was looking at her as if she could answer any of his questions. Not the cold interrogation glare she got when she had done something specifically to annoy him or to be funny, but... something altogether more raw and... worried. It was not within either of their ranges of experience. None of it. He'd known what he'd seen; years of such work, before and after many centuries inbetween, had tempered his mind for details. One moment, they weren't there--and the next they were on the floor. Not so, said the security disk. The disk he'd rushed down the hall for, torn out of the recorder prematurely just to confirm because he hadn't thought it possible to blink and have people laying there...
He shook his head dismissively when she could offer him nothing in terms of an explanation. "You're all alright. That's the important thing."
...Odd. But yes, she supposed she did see his point. "How... how long has it been since I called you..?"
His expression remained unmoving. "That was just this morning."
Okay, they were getting somewhere. "And now it's..?"
"1:37 in the afternoon."
She nodded, still none of it making sense. Time was so fickle between worlds... she'd known that already. It was a memory enough to clench her fist--sending a white-hot sliver of pain straight up to her shoulder. She looked down at her palm, the one that had held the Keyblade; blood. There wasn't much of a wound, but there was blood.
Vincent said nothing and wasted no time. Every office was equipped with a small medical kit, and he found himself grateful for Laguna's insisted caution. Not a word between then, the ex-Turk was quick and efficient, cleaning and wrapping the wound with nothing spilled and nothing wasted. A perfect wrap, like a surgeon's; he hadn't lost his touch even with the claw. In fact, it served rather nicely as a pair of scissors.
To speak of what had just happened seemed... a mistake. To ask her of the wound, where she'd been, what she'd done... it simply didn't seem right, much as he wanted to ask and wanted to know. And so he turned to subjects a little less guarded. "I'm sure Cloud will be looking for a rematch for quite some time if you'd care to work out some aggression."
The man was a saint... in his own extremely weird way. It was a comforting subject change. "It would more than likely make for more aggression at this point. But I'm hoping to improve with practice."
A good answer, he had to admit. Simply... not out loud.
The next words were ones she hadn't actively been thinking, let alone meant to say... but they were spoken long before she realized the truth in them. "I worry about Cloud, y'know?"
"You worry about him?" Vincent couldn't help the quirk in his lips at the very idea.
She noticed, giving him a somewhat nasty grin of her own. "Someone has to."
"I suppose so." He confirmed almost seriously.
"He could use a companion." She offered, nearly distracted.
A barely real chuckle escaped before he could stop it. He thought, instantly, of the Honeybee Inn...
She got the distinct impression of what his mind wandered to, even if she didn't know the details. "Not like that. Necessarily. Just... a dog or something."
"A dog may be too much." He countered with mild amusement.
"We should get him a cat, maybe. A big one. A guard-cat!" she laughed quietly to herself at the very idea. "Like Rufus."
--Wait. Wait a second. That... that was odd. How'd she..? He'd never told her things like that. Neither had Cloud. And not even in Sephiroth's memories did she... she was certain that she never could have...
Vincent realized that fact, as well. His eyes were wide with the idea, actually... if not a little startled. "And how..?"
"I don't know." She whispered... afraid. Trying to hold it to herself, but... she could not deny a fear racing through her.

Will any of this ever make sense! I hope so. I think so. It's... going to get a lot more complicated from here on out, though. And look, a really long chapter! Maybe to make up for how long this took... or maybe to get you used to long chapters that make no sense. Yay!
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