Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, its characters or storyline. This collection is mine, as are McCallister, Alms, and Duke. Enjoy!

..:-X-:..

194 – Flag Football

For justagirl8225

Cid put his cigarette out with his boot, watching the pilots in training as they waged war on each other in the training field. It had rained a monsoon yesterday, leaving the grass soft and the dirt soggy. They looked like a bunch of muddy rats flailing around out there.

"You look like you need a drink." He commented without looking at Leon, tugging out a fresh cigarette.

The younger man grunted something, watching Cid's hopefuls on the field. "How exactly is this training?"

"Too stormy to let their clumsy fingers at flying ships, and too much lightning to get anything done on the computer…Physical training." Cid said, holding the cigarette with his teeth as he pulled out his lighter. "War, thy name is football. I gave 'em flags, but they're too damn competitive to not tackle each other."

He glanced sideways at Leon, just enough to see the dark circles under Leon's eyes and the slump in his shoulders. He returned his eyes to the field. "You sleepin'?"

"Not right now."

"Smart ass." Cid lit the cigarette, taking a drag from it. "Seriously."

Leon looked like he wasn't going to answer for a moment, but then exhaled and folded his arms. "It's just been—lately—nevermind."

Cid frowned and then barked at the field. "Miles, don't tell me you're gettin' your ass handed to you by her: she's half your weight!"

Miles was a smart pilot, who was an uncoordinated mess outside a cockpit. This was evident as McCallister pinned him to the ground.

"She's mean!" Miles yelled out of the mud.

"Then put an elbow in her throat." Cid snapped. "Hey, Sam, your uniform's dirty; get over it and get in there with the rest of the class." He looked jokingly to Leon. "That scrappy woman is making my recruits look bad."

Leon didn't respond to that at first. "She was trained to do that."

Cid groaned. "Now, don't start bitching at me about her. I had nothing to do with her transfer. Or your dog for that matter." When Leon tensed, Cid exhaled smoke, letting the nicotine soften him up. "I heard they want her back…"

"…"

"She's your dog, Leon." He pressed. "They didn't do shit to find her until the pound happened to find that chip."

"There was a war going on—"

"Because that's an excuse." He remarked sarcastically.

"She's a widow and her daughter—"

"Don't play soft. She's your dog and no droopy eyed kid is gonna change your mind about that." He sighed. "Their story's sad, sure, I get that. But Duke would have died out on the street without you, so that supersedes any fucking chip in her skin."

He couldn't tell if any of his words got to Leon, but the younger man straightened and turned away from the field. "Your training exercise is over."

As he walked away, Cid looked to the field to see Todd Crin slam McCallister into the ground, now the last one standing. He stood over her victoriously, then to Cid proudly. His distraction gave McCallister the opportunity to sweep his ankles out, block his wild blind swing, punch him in the jaw, and roll to her knees on top of him.

"That's enough." Cid called over. "Game over."

The muddy, some bleeding, soldiers staggered to their feet, and he noted how McCallister was missing a tooth, hair slapped to one side by the mud, and eyes that kept sliding to Leon's vacated spot at Cid's right.

He dismissed them before they could start whining and glanced back the way Leon had gone. Stubborn bastard was too prideful to admit he cared so much about that dog. Jake Alms, who worked at the local pound, had bullshit through some fancy words so that the Riley family couldn't take Duke away immediately. Had to give Alms props for that.

Now there was just a matter of trying to dissuade the Rileys from taking her back. Cid didn't see the problem: Duke had been a stray on the streets for a few years until Leon took her in. That dog was Leon's. No ifs, ands, buts, or shitstorms about it.

Cid lit a fresh cigarette. He'd have a talk with Alms later about that whole mess, since Leon wasn't talking. And it was a mess. Riley wasn't home to that mutt. Leon was, just like how this squad wasn't McCallister's place…Dammit, this was going to be a pain in the ass.

..:-X-:..

195 – Chemical Reaction

For justagirl8225

"You look like Barbie." Dr. Leng remarked, opening the medical file.

Tifa frowned, sitting on the exam table. "Can you fix it?"

Dr. Leng flipped through a few pages. "There's nothing medically wrong with you…You're just...blond."

"It was that stupid Sorcerer Heartless." Tifa fumed.

"There's no scientific solution for magic. Have you tried dying it?"

"Of course I tried that, but as soon as it dries, it turns blond again." Tifa huffed, the tight blond curls hanging around her face.

"Don't knock blonds." The doctor quipped, her own platinum blond-starting to gray-hair up in a ponytail.

"I'm not, but I'm not supposed to be blond." Tifa twirled a lock of it around her finger, eying the golden strands.

"Well." Dr. Leng closed the file. "I recommend seeing Merlin. If it's magic, he's the expert."

Tifa sighed and stood, pulling her hair up into a ponytail and jamming the ball cap on her head. The doctor snorted.

"You aren't hiding anything, hon."

"It makes it less noticeable at least." She tutted. "Thanks."

Dr. Leng opened the door to the lobby, but paused. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, why?" She quipped.

"You seem a little…twitchy."

"Twitchy…is that your professional diagnosis?"

"Your hair was turned blond…not exactly scandalous." Dr. Leng tilted her head. "Are you trying to hide it or something?"

Tifa frowned. "Imagine you're me, and you walk through town looking like this. Between the hair, the bare legs, and the breasts—Would you want to subject yourself to the playboy bunny jokes?"

"And Leon doesn't like blonds?" Dr. Leng chuckled.

Tifa snorted. "That's the least of my worries."

"Really?" The doctor inquired. "I'd think you'd be okay with being blond…considering that the dark hair makes you look like—"

"I'll go to Merlin." Tifa said, more sharply than she'd intended. "I'm not trying to remind him of Rinoa, okay?"

"I never said—"

"My natural hair color is my natural hair color. It has nothing to do with her or Leon. I don't remind him of her." She went on, feeling slightly insulted by the implied statement.

Sure, maybe she had reminded Leon of Rinoa when they first met and before they got to know each other, but now…after everything…No.

Maybe the best way to make sure was to dye her hair…but then what? Dress differently? No, she refused to change anything about herself for the sake of Rinoa's memory. To do that would only reveal how truly insecure she was and how much the other woman's ghost—or lack thereof—had power over Tifa. That kind of weakness was unacceptable.

"I didn't mean anything by it." Dr. Leng said apologetically.

Tifa exhaled. "I know. I'm sorry. I just—weird day."

"Understandable." Dr. Leng bobbed her head. "I can call Merlin if you want."

"Nah." Tifa shook her head. "I can just walk there. It's just blond hair, right? Not exactly scandalous."

..:-X-:..

196 – Louder than Words

For raiko. EXE

There were hundreds of thousands of people who perished in the invasion of the Heartless and the subsequent wars that ravaged the worlds. The simple truth of it was that hardly any bodies had been recovered from the invasion, making a funeral, good bye, closure, all especially difficult.

Not long after Radiant Garden was refounded, the Council had voted to erect a memorial for the lost souls, and, more importantly, for the mourning souls left behind. It was a simple fountain, marble and nearly 10 meters in diameter. It was a few feet deep, the blue base littered with coins from nostalgic wishers. At the center of the fountain stood an abstract artwork, with spheres and ellipses and twirly bits that gave Tifa something to look at and analyze while she was lost in her thoughts…like now.

Her parents were dead. So were Aerith's, Leon's, Yuffie's, Cloud's, and Cid's. Twelve years had dulled the pain, but on some days it still hurt to think about how much she missed them. The smell of her father's cologne, the old songs that her mother used to sing to herself on the radio.

Leon's arms, wrapped around her, eased the pressure in her chest. He seemed to always know what she needed at times like this, rather than what she wanted. She wanted to be alone, to have a pity party, a good cry, or maybe just collapse to the cobblestone beside this memorial. But he was standing behind her, arms around her torso, holding her up on her feet.

No empty words or sympathetic speeches about 'better places'. She took no solace in such things and it wasn't Leon's strong suit. His strengths were in his actions. Kill the Heartless, rebuild a world, hold someone in pain. Not sitting around, philosophizing about what it all meant…because the Heartless could not be rationalized. That was the sole reason she didn't have parents.

Tifa leaned back into the embrace and looked down at his arms. For once, he wasn't wearing his gloves, and she could see the pale scar that ran deep across the web of his thumb: a souvenir from the attack on the Bailey. His hands were rough and calloused from carrying the gunblade for over ten years. His pinky was crooked from a bad break after digging survivors out of a rockslide for five hours straight.

His forearms were sharply toned and muscled. His upper arms, on either side of her shoulders, were thick and solid as rock. Physically, he was a strong man. These arms could kill people, move mountains, and swing a sword hard enough to decapitate anything with a neck; and right now they were just wrapped around her.

She could never tell him how grateful she was for that.

Drawing a slow breath, she looked at the fountain again. She knew a thing or two about strength. It wasn't determined by how many Heartless you killed or the fact that you never cried. You weren't strong just because you could bench 300 pounds or didn't flinch when you heard an unexpected gunshot.

Strength was getting out of bed every morning, telling a child it was going to be okay when you know it's not, and staying awake for three days straight until the rescue crew found everyone. Or just having the strength to not say anything and let a person think.

He hadn't said a word and she was already feeling better.

So Tifa drew strength from the arms around her and the silence around the fountain. After spending so long on her own, it was nice to have someone to fall back on. But it was just a loan. She would borrow strength now, but he would need it back.

Maybe not tomorrow, but he would need it back someday.

And fortunately, she had strong arms too, so when the time came, she could lend him those as well.

…however cheesy that sounded.