Paper Tiger Burning

I respectfully credit all Original Creators, namely Squaresoft, which became SquareEnix,for these characters. In this way, I pay homage to my Fandom's Original Creator, and illustrate my Community's belief that Fan Fiction is "fair use". I do not claim to own these characters. I do not make money or gil from using these protected characters, nor do I wish to make money or gil from them. In other words, I am borrowing these characters to entertain the adult fanfiction community, but I am doing so with the highest degree of respect to the engineers, game designers, music makers, and voice actors.




I came back to a darkened apartment. Shutting the door quietly, I took the white roses into the kitchen. Not having anything else for a vase, I used an orange juice container that I first had to empty of juice.

I liked the smell of these flowers. They made me nostalgic for the day I’d rescued my flower girl, made me appreciate the first truly wise thing I’d ever done in the history of myself. They reaffirmed that I had some sense while filling my nostrils with beauty.

I bypassed Hojo, who slept soundly on the couch. The urge to stop and look at him overpowered me. I placed the roses on the coffee table and just gave in to that urge. What could it hurt to pause a moment and stare at my crazy father?

He looked small. Without his glasses in the way I easily saw lines of fatigue and age around his eyes. He truly looked nothing like me. In this I could hardly blame him for not thinking me his blood. I could never look this frail or this dark.

“Not the time yet, Lucretia,” he sighed, in the grip of a dream.

Pathetic. How long had she been dead, anyway? He still couldn’t sleep without seeing her, hearing her?

“I love you, Lucretia,” he whispered. “Why can’t you love me?”

That low-level pain in my heart squeezed once more. I instinctively hardened to it, repressed it.

Count to five…

I counted off…

I felt sorry for the old bastard.

Turning, I slipped into the bedroom before I could think on it more.

The flower girl, my flower girl, slept face up on the bed, her diagonal position betraying how she’d just flopped there. She’d probably given my old man a treatment after I left, even knowing I didn’t like it. I felt like taking my due, waking her up with some of that delicious fear she seemed inclined to. But she radiated such quiet peace…

She had an angelic mien even without sleep, but…

Carefully, I took off my coat and eased down beside her, propping up so I could just fill my sight with her beauty. I traced her curves, the swell of her breasts and the flat plane of her stomach with my eyes only. Her legs went on forever. Her hair spilled everywhere, the color of wild, dark honey.

I knew how she felt, and I wanted some of that softness.

Glad I hadn’t said anything to hurt her, I snaked an arm underneath so I could cradle her close to me. Her scent and her perfume filled my nostrils, causing a shiver to run down my spine. She groaned but didn’t awaken, rolling into my grip with sleepy, trusting abandon. When she settled her cheek against my chest, her warm breath puffing over my bare skin, I realized I hadn’t a place in the world I’d rather be.

She ruled me.

I didn’t care. She could rule me all she wanted. As long as I got to feel her, taste her, and breathe her, I hadn’t a concern for anything else. Let her be my weakness. Let a woman be my undoing, as it had my father. I wouldn’t be the first man to fall to a female.

But no man fell to a better woman than this one.

****************************************************************************************

“Someone’s pounding on the door,” Hojo’s voice said, waking me up. My eyes jerked open. I hadn’t heard the knocking? Impossible. A half-second later I heard a fist solidly connect with Aerith’s outer door.

Aerith sat up as I did. “Hmlph,” she said, stretching. “It’s just Cloud. I recognize his knock.”

Hojo eyed me. “So, what do you want me to do, boy? Hide in here or take my lumps from the clone?”

“Your choice.” I got up and strode into the living room. Catching sight of the clock, I stared at it in disbelief. It read half past ten. What could Strife want at such an hour? He would wake the deaf old lady below us at this rate.

I yanked open the door just as Cloud brought his fist down. He punched me in the chest. Giving him a sour look, I stepped back. “Do you want to wake the building?” I asked. “Old Mrs. Clements below us probably thinks we’re having an earthquake.”

Strife scowled. “Why didn’t Aerith answer? I was worried.” He stepped in, his eyes taking in the sleepy, stumbling form of his friend as she left the bedroom. “Oh,” he said, looking sheepish. Then his eyes fell on Hojo. For a split second I thought he would be too surprised to react, but he made a dive for my father. I scruffed him before he’d traveled a foot. If anyone had rights to the first crack at Hojo, it was me.

“What’s he doing here?” he snarled, fighting me. He bristled like a savanna cat, his blond hair fluffing up and his eyes spitting fire.

So, he hated Hojo more than me. I found that mildly surprising.

“Hojo is here on the flower girl’s charity,” I explained, dragging Strife to a chair and putting him in it. He immediately tried to find his feet again. I put my hand on his shoulder, forcing him to remain where he was. He felt a lot stronger than he had before. My blood, I reasoned smugly. “He’s her guest. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

“Aerith,” Cloud began in a desperate tone.

“Cloud,” she murmured back. “It’s true; Hojo is my guest. Please don’t attempt to hurt him.”

Cloud looked at me. “You’re okay with this?” he demanded. “You?”

“I don’t like it, no,” I answered, seeing no reason to dissemble. “But this is Aerith’s apartment. I’m here to make sure my father behaves himself.” And this remained the absolute truth. I didn’t yet know how I felt over my father, but I did know how I felt about Aerith.

Cloud stopped struggling. His eyes burned when focusing on Hojo. “Dirty bastard killed Zack and Vincent, used me for a lab animal and tried to mate Aerith to Nanaki!” His blue eyes positively blazed as he looked back at me. “He ruined you, Sephiroth, and you can stay in the same room with him?”

“Yes,” I said. “And if I can, you certainly can.” I let go of him. “As I’ve said, he is Aerith’s guest.”

Cloud stared at me. His eyes swung back to Aerith before lighting on Hojo. “Fine,” he spat.

Aerith touched Hojo’s shoulder on her way by him, making Cloud flinch. Hojo sat down, pushing his glasses further up while rubbing his forehead.

“It’s nice to see you again, Cloud,” Aerith said, coming to her friend. “I thought you were too mad at me to visit again soon.” She was the picture of placid goodwill, a vision of compassion and patience.

“I’m not mad at you,” Cloud said, helplessly responding to her gentle authority. “But why the hell are you harboring Hojo?”

Aerith regarded him with a steady, emotionless gaze. “Because I want to.”

The silence revealed us down to our heartbeats. Cloud gaped at her. She smiled, erasing the impact of her words. “Everything okay at home?” she asked.

“Fine,” Cloud muttered. “Elmyra had a nice visit with the kids. We didn’t tell her you were alive; I didn’t think it would help matters for her to know and not be able to see you.”

“I appreciate that,” Aerith murmured. “You look a little feverish. How do you feel?”

“Oh, just a cold or something,” Cloud replied. He kept looking at my father. I felt his desire to rend the man limb from limb. I sympathized with him, actually. At times I truly wanted to rip Hojo apart. Slowly.

“Really?” Aerith moved close to him, putting her hand on his forehead. “The flu,” she pronounced after a moment. “Be still, Cloud.”

I watched her heal Cloud. The young man’s eyes fluttered shut as her healing poured into his body. Aerith stepped back after giving him a firm hug. “You’re okay,” she said softly. “But you need to take care of yourself. Stop drinking in the bar for a week or two, please?”

Cloud shook himself. “M’kay,” he slurred, obviously feeling the effects of her particular sort of magic. He stood slowly, looking quite sluggish. “Be in touch,” he muttered, making his way to the door.

Aerith caught my eyes.

“He’s not exactly well,” she said. “Would you…?”

I knew what she wanted. Gritting my teeth, I nodded. I would follow the insolent young man if she wanted me to. I wouldn’t like it…