WARNINGS: This contains romantic relationships between two males. If you don't like that concept then I'm assuming you're mature enough to simply click on the back button and find something that is to your taste. It's a dull world when we all have the same interests after all.
This is set in the same universe as the oneshot Wychcraft. This is the prequel that explains a little more about that particular episode and though it's not necessary to have read that first, you are more than welcome to read it while waiting for the next part of this. That one's got the smut in, this one is (supposedly) plot-driven.
Strange and Beautiful (I'll Put A Spell On You)
"Hey fearless leader, you seen the news lately?"
Leon paused in the entrance way to the somewhat seedy looking bar, his blue-grey gaze instantly honing in on the blond man in the white trenchcoat who was leaning back against the bar with his usual arrogant expression. Ignoring the mocking tone in Seifer's voice, Leon took another step inside the building and allowed the door to swing closed behind him. It banged closed, taking with it the only bit of natural light that was to be seen in the place. Dull lamps hung from the burgundy painted walls and perched on the dark wood tables, but were not really enough to lift the sense of gloom. The interior felt like it was perpetually midnight; hence it's obvious appeal to the inebriated souls that populated it despite the fact that it was a little after ten in the morning. The air was thick with smoke and the building clearly lacked any air conditioning or proper ventilation causing the atmosphere to feel far too warm and heavy for comfort. Leon wasn't surprised that Seifer had asked to meet him here; the man was obviously hoping to piss Leon off.
Instead of reacting to his surroundings at all past removing the mirrored sunglasses he had been wearing against the glare of the sun outside, Leon gracefully made his way towards the bar and glanced briefly in the blond's direction. "Seifer." Catching the eye of the bartender, Leon nodded towards the Scotch and silently accepted the amber liquid in a squat glass complete with a couple of ice cubes. They clinked against the glass and each other as Leon took a drink.
Another glance at the man beside him showed that Seifer was still waiting for an answer to his earlier question. Leon idly tilted the glass as he replied. "And what news would that be?"
"It seems Time Compression threw us a few more surprises than a few extra continents."
Leon gave a snort, still focused on the forming beads of condensation on the outside of his glass. One slowly made its way down to run across his finger before swiftly disappearing along his hand in a trail of coldness. "Really," Leon stated flatly before sipping at the alcohol once more. He let the Scotch linger in his mouth for a moment before swallowing as he considered Seifer's words.
The Time Compression brought about by Ultimecia had come perilously close to destroying their world altogether. But what Leon and his companions had not realised at the time was that the Compression hadn't only dissolved the barriers between Past, Present and Future, but for a few short moments had brought their world close to merger with a host of other realities. And a few short moments in Time Compression can count for an awful lot when one of those other realities is about to be wiped out by a falling meteor.
The SeeDs' attempt to save their world had coincided with a similar attempt on that other world so like and yet unlike their own. But the method employed on that other world seemed to have pierced realities and brought the inhabitants to a place where Jenova would not threaten them. Leon and the others had emerged from Time Compression to find several new landmasses where before there had been only sea. The merger was more or less a smooth one, the new continents seeming to possess a similar state of technology, but it had had the side effect of destroying the ability to call on Guardian Forces. Draw points were no more, something apparently attributed to what was referred to as The Lifestream by denizens of the New World Continents. It appeared that the loss of magic was the cost for saving not just their world, but this other one that had become theirs as well.
Beside him, Seifer didn't seem to mind Leon's lack of apparent interest. The blond was more than used to dealing with the taciturn man. Shifting his position against the bar to allow him to reach inside his coat, Seifer produced a small leaflet which he placed on the wooden bar surface beside Leon's drink. "Seems magic isn't as extinct as we thought."
Leon glanced down at the paper, noting that it came from the New World Continent. He didn't get past the first line before snorting dismissively. "What's this, after sorceresses are they? There aren't any left now that Rinoa's gone; SeeD would know."
Seifer snorted. "Where does it mention sorceresses? This doesn't have anything to do with them."
Frowning, Leon looked away from the leaflet to the man beside him. "Witches, sorceresses: seems like they got their terminology confused," he said before pushing the paper back towards the blond. "And their spelling. Wych went out of fashion when they introduced the dictionary."
Seifer rolled his eyes. "How did someone as dense as you ever get put in charge of Balamb Garden," he asked the pub in general before sneering at the chestnut haired man. "This 'Wych' phenomenon is something new. And mostly found amongst men hence the decision not to use the traditional spelling. It's not wise to question the gender of a man still capable of raining down magic on you."
Leon pulled the paper back and began to read it more closely. "What?"
Seifer laughed, low and in the back of his throat. "Thought that might get your attention. It seems that being deprived of a Guardian Force hasn't stopped some people from being able to work magic. Not on the scale of sorceresses of course, but enough for this group to start paying attention and removing those individuals from where they could cause damage to the general populace."
"Organisation XIII," Leon read aloud. He paused to search his memories. "I've never heard of them before, are they from the New World Continents?"
"Not really," Seifer admitted. "They're based in Hollow Bastion; that huge fortress that the NWCs are swearing blind never used to be sat right in the middle of Midgar. They claim to be to wyches what SeeD were to sorceresses." Seifer paused a moment before adding; "They also claim SeeD are now defunct and little more than mercenaries who need to recognise their place in this new world order."
Leon took a gulp of Scotch, draining the glass of the alcohol and allowing the ice cubes to fall against his teeth before sending them back to the bottom of the glass. He pushed his now consumed drink away from him as he turned to face the blond. "Why are you telling me this?"
Seifer paused for a moment, searching Leon's face for a moment before dropping to Leon's now empty glass. Seifer's face relaxed into its familiar smirk and the blond pushed himself away from the bar. "It never hurts to be aware of these things, does it? Be seeing you around Squall."
"It's Leon," the dark haired man replied, half to himself as he watched Seifer exit the bar. Turning back to his empty glass, Leon blinked to find his ice cubes now little more than a half-finger of water in the bottom of the glass. With a sigh, Leon took the hint to leave himself and fished out his sunglasses before stepping outside.
A fortnight later saw Leon stepping out into the bustling streets of Midgar. The city had been almost destroyed not long ago and the reconstruction work was both extensive and intense. Every street seemed to be in the midst of some sort of rebuilding programme and inwardly Leon was amazed that the scaffolding didn't do more to impede the swarms of human traffic that thronged through the avenues and alleyways. Allowing himself to be jostled through the main thoroughfares, Leon examined his surroundings and tried to work out just why he'd let a brief conversation with Seifer influence his thoughts so much that this trip had seemed necessary.
In truth, it was probably not so much that initial conversation as the amount of information Leon had discovered after it. SeeD had always been more than enough to keep Leon's attention fully engaged, but even he was able to admit that lately they had been functioning as little more than glorified mercenaries. And while it was a nice enough change of pace in the immediate aftermath of Ultimecia, it was leaving Leon with increasing amounts of free time. The training centre could only occupy so many hours of that and rather than be forced into socialising, Leon had taken to casual research of the New World Continents, Organisation XIII and the so-called Wych phenomenon.
What Leon hadn't realised was that although knowledge of this apparent wychcraft was only just making its way to the ears of those who had suffered under sorceresses, it was regarded as an increasingly widespread problem in the NWCs. They had never used junctioning or Guardian Forces, relying on a more direct form of magical power which was refined from a source called the Lifestream into Mako and then items known as Materia. It was at this point that Leon had first happened across mentions of the SOLDIER programme, which had seemed to bear remarkable parallels to SeeD in the sense of creating a superior fighting force. The differences were that SOLDIER were loyal to one particular company and that they were apparently exposed to this Mako in order to enhance their abilities. But following their integration into the world Leon was familiar with, SOLDIER had been rather hurriedly disbanded and use of Materia had been banned. It seemed to draw out dormant magic powers. What had happened to those in the SOLDIER programme, Leon could find no mention. That intrigued him as much as it disturbed him.
And so he had made his way to Midgar, site of the former headquarters of Shinra. The idea was that by digging around the company responsible for SOLDIER Leon might discover just why all mention of them had been ruthlessly repressed. In truth the experimentation angle of the programme put Leon's teeth on edge. There had been aspects of SeeD training that had come very close to brainwashing and Leon found it only too easy to believe that had he been raised on the NWCs, he would have probably become part of the SOLDIER programme himself.
At one point, Midgar had been comprised of two levels with the wealthy living on raised plates above the slums. The disaster that had all but decimated the city had destroyed these plates (though Leon had heard talk that said one plate at least had been deliberately collapsed in a terrorist attack) and for now at least, the bulk of the city was on one level. The intense construction had yet to progress beyond ground level. Despite that, Leon found his attention continually drawn to the arching freeways and frameworks that would eventually hold new plates. It was less for the technical marvel than due to his SeeD instincts. Leon was being watched.
And not in the same sense of those curious stares that the substantial scar slicing across his nose and forehead always seemed to draw. The eyes that Leon felt following his every movement were more appraising, and no doubt drawn to him by more than mere idle curiosity; otherwise Leon felt confident that his observer would have lost interest by now in the random wanderings of a tourist to Midgar. So instead Leon wondered just what his watcher was waiting for. Was there something they were waiting for him to do?
Leon had never been much of a fan of guessing games: of games of any kind really. He therefore had little intention of indulging the viewing stranger with anything that could be considered interesting, noteworthy or suspicious. Rather than continue along the street, Leon decided to find a reasonably priced hotel where he could plan his movements.
A short way up ahead was a street vendor selling hotdogs and talking up a storm as he tried to convince the masses of human traffic to buy his snacks. The loud, non-stop chatter combined with the smell of cooking sausage abruptly reminded Leon of Zell who was no doubt currently attempting to eat as many hotdogs as humanly possible in Balamb's cafeteria. Leon approached the middle-aged man and pulled out some change from his pocket. "I'll take one."
The vendor cut off in mid-spiel to turn to Leon. "Certainly!" the man replied before seeming to momentarily pause as his eyes took in Leon's face and froze when they reached his forehead. The man then blinked and silently handed Leon his hotdog.
Inwardly raising an eyebrow at the sudden difference in the man's demeanour, Leon handed over the payment and decided not to acknowledge the strange reaction. "This is my first time in Midgar and I'm trying to find my way to a hotel. Do you…" Leon trailed off as the man turned away from him the moment Leon had paid for the food. Even now, the vendor was resolutely ignoring Leon, not even gracing him with a look.
Leon blinked before he narrowed his eyes and turned to head back into the flow of traffic. Clearly that man was going to find repeat custom difficult with such an unhelpful attitude. Still no matter, Leon decided as he bit into his hotdog. He could easily get some directions from someone else. Finishing off the hotdog, Leon looked around for another likely target.
An elderly lady was sat in a doorway, smoking on a pipe and occasionally nodding regally to the passing pedestrians. Clearly a local, Leon decided as he made his way towards her. Actually going to the effort of schooling his features into a polite and enquiring expression, Leon clearly his throat. "Excuse me, could you help me?"
"Yes dear?" the old woman mumbled as she turned her face up to look at Leon. The hand that had been tapping out the pipe abruptly stilled as she stared up into Leon's face before hurriedly turning back to stare at the street.
Not to be put off, Leon ploughed on regardless. "All I need are directions to a hotel nearby," he said, edging to the side so that he remained in the woman's line of sight.
The woman clenched the pipe tightly between her teeth and began to puff at it with single minded determination that was echoed in her refusal to look anywhere other than the middle-distance. Leon persisted for a while longer, but eventually recognised the fact that there was no way even he could compete against seventy something years of ignoring undesirables. With a shrug, Leon set off in search of someone who, after no doubt gawking at his scar for a moment or two, would still be capable of answering a couple of basic questions.
Four thwarted attempts later and Leon's frustration and bafflement were in equal measures. Having spent much of his time in Balamb wishing people would simply leave him alone, Leon was really expecting himself to be a little more able to deal with the fact that in Midgar, no one wanted to so much as be seen exchanging small talk with him. Leon couldn't understand it. If not friendly then he'd at least managed to remain polite. He wasn't carrying a visible weapon that could result in him being seen as threatening. There was no explanation that he could think of for the way everyone seemed bound and determined to ignore him. Apart from a morbid fear of facial scars that was, and somehow Leon doubted that would be the case.
Perhaps that was what led him into the entranceway of the bar. The actual bar itself appeared to be located up a short flight of stairs and Leon made his way up reasoning that a place as rundown as this seemed from the exterior could hardly afford to turn down custom. And maybe waving some cash in a bartender's face would finally get him some directions.
The stairs led him into a bar that was pleasant enough, if not for the fact that it was sorely lacking in patrons. A row of windows provided ample light to illuminate the numerous empty tables and stools that were placed in front of the bar. Standing behind the bar was a young and slender man dressed in a black suit with the most shocking red hair Leon had ever seen. It had been pulled into a long ponytail down the man's back and he was idly tossing an empty tumbler from hand to hand under the disapproving glare of a second man. At least, Leon assumed the glare was disapproving, the second man's eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, but it seemed a reasonable enough guess from the set of his much bulkier frame. As the redhead tossed the glass, light would glance off its surface and shimmer along the taller man's shaven head, giving the dark skin a similar gleam to the equally dark-stained wood of the room. The taller man also wore a black suit, implying a uniform.
As Leon stepped further into the bar, both men's attention was drawn to him. The redhead abruptly ceased to play with the glass and his companion shifted his weight slightly, crossing his substantial arms across an equally substantial chest.
Turning to face Leon, the redhead revealed a smirking face with two red tattoos under each eye to echo the spikes that framed his face. "Sorry man," the redhead said in a tone just short of mocking. "We ain't selling alcohol right now." As before the redhead's eyes seemed to catch on Leon's scar, but the only discernable result was a widening of the smirk.
Leon shrugged. "It's not alcohol I came in here for. I just want directions."
The redhead raised an eyebrow as he set the glass down with exaggerated care. "Down the stairs, turn right and keep on walking until you hit open ground," he said.
Leon blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Fastest way out of Midgar," the second man offered in a deep voice that lacked the self-satisfied tones of his companion's.
Leon's eyes narrowed. "I have no intention of leaving Midgar at the moment," he replied. "I'm looking for a hotel."
"Well, that's going to be a problem, see? 'Cause there ain't no hotel that's going to give you a room," The first man leaned over the bar, towards Leon and let his eyes deliberately linger on the scar. "You're the wrong sort."
With a frown Leon's hand twitched towards his forehead before he caught the gesture and forced the limb to remain at his side. "Because of my scar? What the hell does my scar prove?"
The two men exchanged a look before the smaller redhead turned back to Leon, his manner now appraising. "You'll be from the Sorceress Continents I'm guessing. Never ventured over to chat with survivors of Jenova until now."
Warily Leon inclined his head in a small nod.
Another look was exchanged between the pair behind the bar. "So just how much do you know about Wychcraft over on that side of the planet?" the redhead asked idly.
"Not much," Leon admitted. "That's part of the reason I'm here."
"Scoring above the breath," the dark-skinned man suddenly pronounced causing his companion to roll his eyes and turn on the larger man with a burst of temper.
"I was just getting to that bit!" Spinning back to face Leon, the redhead nodded towards Leon's scar. "It's what they do to wyches to break their power. They cut them above the mouth and nose and make the poor bastard bleed. Anyone lays eyes on you and they see someone who was investigated for being a wych." Straightening up the man gave Leon a smile that was neither reassuring nor sympathetic. "So it's probably best for you to toddle off home now."
"Reno, what did I tell you about scaring away the customers?" The feminine voice that came from the entranceway of the bar was tinged with exasperation.
Reno's gaze darted over towards the new speaker before he focused on Leon and smirked once more. "He's not a customer."
"Aren't I?" Leon challenged, seizing the chance to extract a little payback on the obnoxious man. "It's not as though I was able to order anything when your opening words to me were to say you were closed."
A sigh from just over Leon's shoulder, quickly followed by the sound of footsteps as the newcomer strode into the bar. "Just serve him Reno."
"Whisky, hold the ice," Leon told Reno, enjoying the irritated look on the redhead's features as he went about pouring the drink. The awareness of a presence beside him made Leon turn and examine the newcomer.
His first thoughts, bizarrely enough, were that Rinoa must have had a twin sister somewhere. Then he noticed that the dark eyes were a touch more almond-shaped and that the long dark hair lacked those bronze-tipped highlights that Rinoa's always acquired in the sun. Plus the young woman was probably a couple of years older too. Leon couldn't help but notice the lithely muscled frame and leather gloves that she was currently peeling off her hands and mentally added 'martial artist' to his list of first impressions. The young woman smiled at Leon, the expression flickering briefly as her eyes noticed the scar. Unlike anyone else previously though, the sight of his injury seemed to make her smile return more strongly than before. She stretched out a hand to him. "Tifa Lockhart."
"Leon," he returned as he enclosed her hand briefly before letting go.
Tifa's eyebrow quirked slightly. "My, the two of you really are similar," she muttered, clearly to herself. Then she turned another pleasant smile on Leon as she nimbly made her way behind the bar and started fixing a drink for herself as well. "Consider your whisky on the house," she told Leon. "A reward for having to put up with Reno."
"Hey," Reno began, his forehead crinkling in displeasure. "Who's been looking after this place for the last two days?"
"How many people have you actually served in that time?" Tifa shot back.
Reno looked abashed, a fact not helped by the way the man behind suddenly seemed to be finding it hard to keep a straight face. Becoming aware of the fact that he was not receiving support from his colleague, Reno rounded on the taller man. "Hey, she's insulting you too."
"I didn't ask Rude to serve customers while I was away," Tifa informed the redhead as she sipped at her own drink.
Rude inclined his head. "I was to keep an eye on you," he told Reno.
The redhead rolled his eyes, clearly far from happy from the lack of faith in his abilities.
Turning her attention away from the double act beside her, Tifa studied Leon over the rim of her glass. "So I'm guessing you've been brought to Midgar by all these rumours Organisation XIII's been putting out about there being wyches in our midst," she said carefully.
Leon nodded, not seeing the point in denying it. "Word has just begun to reach our continents," he told the brunette. "A friend suggested it would be worth me looking into." Leon paused to take a gulp of whisky, letting the alcohol roll around his mouth for a few moments as he considered his next words. "I thought it was a reoccurrence of the Sorceress Phenomenon, but this seems to be something else entirely."
"Oh yes, Sorceresses," Tifa murmured. "I'd heard about that. Isn't there a group dedicated to fighting them?"
"SeeD," Leon confirmed. "We played a major role in stopping Ultimecia's plans of Time Compression."
Tifa leaned back, moving away from Leon as she placed her glass on the counter. "So you're one of them. Are you planning to start hunting wyches too then?"
Leon shook his head. "I don't even know what these so-called wyches are. They could be nothing more than Knights." Seeing Tifa's blank look, Leon explained. "When a Sorceress comes into her powers, she appoints a Knight. He has to protect her, keep her safe and in return he receives power."
Tifa's eyes gleamed with something for a moment, but her expression remained neutral. "Sounds like a good deal," she said carefully.
Leon shrugged. "Some people sought it out. It didn't matter. You don't really get a choice in the matter." A brief frown pinched Leon's eyebrows together. "At the time you don't question the bond, but if you break free of it … you start to see just how insidious it was. Controlling your actions, your thoughts…"
"Not pleasant," Tifa murmured. "I've heard of something like it … but not associated with this wychcraft rubbish."
"So what can you tell me about this wychcraft problem?" Leon asked.
Tifa exhaled noisily, placing her hands flat on the bar in front of her and stretching her back away from it before straightening once more. "I don't know what causes it, if there is any actual cause. This whole craze could be nothing more than a group of people exploiting fears to control the population and eliminate any opposition to their dominance." She shot the two men a quick look out of the corner of her eye. "It wouldn't be the first time."
"Hey…" Reno started.
"Anyway," Tifa quickly continued, cutting off the rest of Reno's objection mid-flow. "Organisation XIII went after SOLDIER first. They'd been exposed to Mako as part of their training after all and the Organisation seized on this. Said it had polluted their bodies and in some cases triggered latent abilities. Wychcraft. Seeing as the normal populace couldn't access the Lifestream anymore and Materia use was banned, there was apparently no way to combat these wyches."
"Unless you were a member of Organisation XIII?" Leon guessed.
Tifa grinned and made a shooting gesture with her right hand. "Bingo." Her smile dropped slowly as the brunette paused. "SOLDIER didn't have the best reputation after Jenova. So no one complained too much when they were all more or less rounded up and carted off to Hollow Bastion. But then they started finding more wyches and got everyone all stirred up about the thought of powerful, crazed magic-wielders in their midst."
"I've noticed," Leon said wryly.
"A lot of it is superstition that should have died out centuries ago," Tifa confessed. "I suppose that's why it's taken hold so quickly. People are starting to think there's truth in old wives' tales after all." She paused. "The main thing is that wyches are apparently able to generate limitless quantities of magic. They simply don't run out of spells or power. They also say that wyches can send that power into another chosen creature, like a cat or a dog and use that animal as an extension of their will. The Organisation are calling these animals Wychkin; saying that even if you catch and disable the wych, if you let the wychkin within eyesight of its owner, the animal can conduct spells on the wych's behalf."
"So that's the cover story," Leon said. "What do you really think is going on?"
Tifa opened her mouth to respond, but frowned and closed it again. After a few moments she met Leon's eyes and shrugged. "I don't know. But it all seems pretty suspicious, don't you think?"
Those were Leon's thoughts exactly.
The daylight had given way to the onset of evening when Leon left the bar once again. Tifa had offered to let him stay in one of the rooms attached to the bar and Leon had accepted her offer. The young dark-haired woman had confirmed Reno's statement from earlier that due to Leon's scar, he was unlikely to find anywhere willing to offer him a room. The attitude towards those even suspected of being a wych had disturbed Leon and he didn't want to leave until he had discovered more about the current situation. In addition, the circumstances under which SOLIDER had disappeared were far from reassuring. Leon had little doubt that Organisation XIII were going to turn their attentions to the continents he'd grown up with sooner or later and that when they did, SeeD would be their first line of attack.
In other words, it seemed that Seifer had been on to something when he called Leon's attention to that leaflet. Now Leon intended to discover as much as possible about these so-called wyches and Organisation XIII before SeeD ended up in direct confrontation with them.
Taking Tifa's advice, Leon had waited until night to venture out again as he was clearly going to achieve very little when his scar was prominently displayed in the bright daylight. To further provide a bit more camouflage, Tifa had also presented Leon with a hooded cloak that she told him to switch for his leather jacket.
Leon had raised a sceptical eyebrow at the garment. "It's not exactly discreet, is it? Won't I just attract more attention?"
Tifa shook her head. "The hood'll hide your scar. Plus you won't be the only one wearing one of these. As long as you just intend to observe people, it'll be fine. No one will confront you."
Behind her, Reno took a break in chewing on a cocktail stick to nod in agreement. "Lady knows her stuff. And if anyone gets close; mutter something about reunions. That'll scare 'em off sharpish."
Leon didn't get the reference, but accepted the cloak nevertheless.
He was glad for it now. He was still avoided by the crowds who would not even make eye-contact with him as they carried on with their business, but unlike before, the reaction didn't seem to be out of fear. Cloaked Leon was simply some sort of non-entity. Once the surprise had given way, Leon soon saw the advantages to this. He could eavesdrop with impunity as no one saw the need to change their conversations or even drop their voices as he moved amongst them. Leon wondered who exactly usually wore these cloaks to have generated this response, but figured it was probably something unique to these continents and the Jenova survivors.
Leon did see another figure wearing a robe just like his, sitting motionless in an abandoned doorway. He was tempted to approach the figure and see just what he was unwittingly impersonating, but decided against it. He didn't want the figure to call attention to the fact that he was a fake and there was no telling whether the figure would respond positively to anything intruding on his privacy.
The increasing whine of an approaching motorcycle swiftly diverted his attention, especially when the slightly lower tones of another two engines joined the sound of the first. Moving to one side, Leon looked down the rapidly clearing street to where a black shape was growing in size.
The motorcycle was a hulking black beast of a machine, the engine snarling like a wolf as it shot through the centre of the densely populated walkway with no regard to the pedestrians who were hurriedly diving for cover. The rider was dressed in black and seemed to blend into the motorcycle as he hunched over to gain more speed, his eyes hidden behind shaded goggles and blonde hair whipping back from his face. He flew past Leon so quickly that it was purely down to Leon's training that he'd managed to catch that much detail and then there was nothing more than the fading red glow of a taillight.
His pursuers followed mere moments later; their bikes equally bulky, but lacking the sleek shine of the first. Even though Leon had been able to notice little more than a collection of impressions about the first rider, any chance of even that amount of detail about these two followers would be futile. Both riders were dressed in form-fitting black from head to toe with their faces completely obscured beneath black helmets with tinted visors. They hurtled past, clearly focused on nothing other than catching the blond motorcyclist.
Leon stared after them for a few moments, wondering what the hell that had been about. As conversation around him began to resume, it became clear that none of the people around the SeeD commander were going to mention the chase. Realising that this was simply yet another addition to the list of things requiring explanations, Leon decided to give up for the night and return to Tifa's Seventh Heaven bar. With any luck the place wouldn't be too crowded and Leon could mull over his options in relative peace and quiet. And he could also get rid of this stupid robe and just leave his hair to conceal the bulk of his scar.
It was a short walk back and uncomplicated by further high speed chases. Leon simply moved through the crowds with ease, the people seeming to part before him rather than risk colliding with his cloaked form and then needing to rely on eye contact and the possibility of a dialogue. Leon didn't have too much of a problem with this, seizing the opportunity to be left alone and not waylaid every five minutes by giggling girls as he was back home in Balamb.
Leon shrugged off the robe on the deserted stairway up to the bar and shook his head briefly to cause his hair to fall across his face. He took a moment to reflect that it was no wonder Seifer hadn't made his way to Midgar; the blond would have been totally unable to conceal his own scar with the short and slicked back hair style Seifer preferred. Leon found that quietly amusing, not least in memory of all the 'girly' taunts Seifer had mocked Leon's longer hair with.
Entering the bar, Leon saw that while busy, it was not packed enough to make finding somewhere quiet to sit impossible. Rude and Reno were still behind the bar, along with a petite brunette that Leon hadn't seen before who was arguing fiercely with a customer sat by the bar, a middle-aged man with a cigarette hanging out of one corner of his mouth. Tifa was nowhere in sight.
With a nod to Reno who spotted Leon almost as soon as he entered the room, Leon kept to the shadowed edges of the bar as he made his way over to an empty table in the far corner. Taking a seat, Leon let himself blend into the shadows around him as he studied the crowd. It seemed to be a good mix of people, though there were obviously a few regulars: the man at the bar being one. There was also an incredibly burly man with skin a couple of shades darker than Rude's and what looked like a mechanical arm clearly feeling very at home as he sat in a booth with a young boy and girl, neither of whom looked anything like him or were older than ten. While the kids drank what Leon sincerely hoped was nothing more than coke through colourful straws, the man was deep in conversation with the passing Reno and often appeared seconds away from throttling the suited redhead. Sat on the girl's lap was a large stuffed black and white cat wearing a crown and for a moment, Leon could have sworn he saw the toy enter into the argument.
Shaking his head and reflecting that the day was obviously getting to him, Leon felt his skin prickle abruptly. Someone was watching him. Looking away from the group in the corner, Leon let his eyes scan across the people in the room. No one was immediately visible as the culprit and Leon's eyes narrowed as he found his attention drawn to the opposite corner of the room. There was someone else standing there, right at the corner of the bar, though there was not enough light to get a good look. All Leon could tell was that the figure had striking blue eyes that almost seemed to glow in the shadows.
"Um hi! You're Leon, right? Tifa told me about you."
Jolted back to full attention, Leon looked up to find the pale brunette from the bar standing by his table and smiling. Unable to apparently keep still, she was subtly bouncing on the balls of her feet where she stood and tapping a pencil against the small pad of paper she carried. Something about her was reminding Leon strongly of Selphie and therefore ringing loud warning bells in his head.
Not letting any of this show, Leon inclined his head to confirm his identity and watched as the girl's grin grew to stop just shy of demonic. "Well hello! I'm Yuffie, the greatest ninja and material-hunter on this planet!" She struck a brief pose before dropping back into her previous stance. "Well, I was until material was banned so as you can imagine my job fell through. Now I help Tifa out around here when needed. Oh and annoy Cid, of course."
Leon thought it probably best to simply nod again. "Where is Tifa?"
Clearly not expecting Leon to speak, Yuffie jumped and fumbled the pencil she had been twirling through her fingers. "Oh! Uh … Tifa got called away kind of suddenly, but she should be back soon." Turning towards the bar, Yuffie continued. "See? There she is. Umm, if it's okay with you, I should probably check on her. Uh … did you want something to drink?"
"Whisky," Leon said. "But there's no rush."
Yuffie beamed at him before springing back towards the bar. Leon watched her go, noticing how the sunny demeanour was replaced by worry as she engaged an equally strained looking Tifa in conversation. The man at the bar, Rude and Reno were all obviously listening in and chipped in with a few comments each. Then the group separated and Reno promptly went over to talk to the large man from earlier once again. Leon mused that what had drawn Tifa away earlier had to be of major interest to her associates and wondered what it could have been. Possibly someone in her family was ill, though judging by the concern of those around her, it was more likely to be a mutual friend of everyone gathered there. They seemed like such a disparate group that Leon wondered how they'd all come to be so close. Unlike his own group of friends who were all roughly the same age and had been brought together by SeeD, Tifa's circle had a wide variety of ages and backgrounds.
Once again Leon's attention was drawn away as he realised he was being watched again. His eyes immediately went to the darkened part of the bar from earlier. Some sixth sense told Leon that he was being watched by the same person as earlier and Leon leaned forwards slightly in the hope of being able to see the figure more clearly. Tifa made her way down to that corner and Leon's vision was blocked as the young woman spoke to the figure in the shadows for a few moments. She clearly wasn't happy, if the hands on hips pose was any indication and even less so when she threw her hands up a few moments later and marched off back to where Reno was being bullied mercilessly by Yuffie to the silent amusement of Rude. As Tifa moved away, the person she'd been speaking to shifted and Leon found himself locking gazes with those strange, blue eyes.
This time though, Leon could actually see a little of the owner of those eyes. Leon's observer was a young man who was probably a couple of years younger than Leon himself. He was pale, a fact not helped by the black clothes he wore over his skinny frame which only served to emphasise the young man's pallor and make him look ill. There were dark circles under those distinctive eyes that lent further weight to the ill observation. Blond hair sprang away from his face in spikes that made him look like someone had shot him with a bolt of Thunder, though the final effect seemed to suit him well enough. The man was watching Leon intently, a mix of puzzlement and some other emotion on his fine-boned features.
The blond man began to make his way towards the table at which Leon sat, seemingly unaware of the people around him or the commotion that was forming behind him when Tifa noticed that the blond was wandering through the crowded bar. His steps were slightly unsteady, and without realising that he was moving at all, Leon found himself rising from the table and moving to meet the man halfway. As Leon got closer, the blond swayed, his eyes breaking away from Leon's gaze to roll back in his head. Leon all but ran the last few steps as the man pitched forwards to be caught by Leon.
Even unconscious, the blond stranger was frowning and Leon could feel warmth seeping from the man where his body was in contact with Leon's own. Looking around for help, Leon saw Tifa and the smoking man from the bar hurrying over. "Is there somewhere he can rest?" Leon asked Tifa. "He seems to have a fever."
Tifa's face was creased with concern, but she seemed to be keeping her emotions well under control as she nodded decisively and beckoned Leon to follow her. "We'll move him into one of the rooms at the back. Can you carry him or would you like Cid to lend a hand?"
Leon looked at the man from the bar and shook his head. "I can manage," he said as he shifted the blond into his arms. Even through the leather gloves he wore, Leon could feel the heat of the blond's body and quietly wondered just how someone so seriously ill managed to even walk halfway across the bar.
They made their way to a darkened room at the back, Tifa taking the lead as she snapped on the light. "Can you just lay him on the bed? I can check him over in a minute."
Aware that he was being removed from the situation, Leon nodded obediently. The room was small and contained only the single bed and a small, wooden chest of drawers so there was little difficulty in manoeuvring the unconscious man onto the bed. As Leon lowered the blond, the man's head rolled slightly, bringing his cheek to rest into the hollow where Leon's neck met his collarbone.
At the contact with the man's bare skin, Leon felt a spark of what must have been static electricity. The shock made him all but drop the blond the last few inches onto the bed, a gesture that Tifa luckily didn't catch. Straightening hurriedly, Leon pressed his hand to the place that still tingled and turned to leave the room. He nodded politely at Tifa on his way out and headed straight for the bar where he caught Reno's eye and signalled for a whisky.
The rest of the night Leon sat nursing his whisky and trying to work out why his skin still tingled with the after-effects of that jolt of static electricity and also why he suddenly felt so tired.
TBC
Author's Notes: I don't know how widespread the knowledge of scoring above the breath is outside of the British Isles as even here it was rarely performed outside of England. It was a popular belief though and there are numerous examples of suspected witches being attacked by their victims in an attempt to break curses cast on them. Although there will be elements of the mediæval superstitions in this, I'm mainly going to be using those from the Tudor period onwards as that's always been more interesting to me and of course, there are so many more cases of witch trials and so on that have survived. Some of the wider known stuff about trials etc may turn up in this, but I've always found the less well known traditions much more interesting.
And this does fit into Kingdom Hearts. The next part should hopefully show that it's less a fusion of Final Fantasy VII and VIII than Kingdom Hearts, but I'm just taking care to explain the setting before I go messing with it even more. Sora and Riku have yet to make an appearance, but they will do at some point.