Ever After, Part 3

Zidane walked into the bedroom quietly, hoping not to disturb Kuja from his sleep. The beautiful man in the bed shifted his head to watch Zidane. Setting a bottle he’d brought in on the table by the bed, Zidane sat beside Kuja and watched him with sympathy in his eyes. "Hey. How are you feeling, bro?"

Kuja sighed into his pillow and closed his eyes. Even his eyes were in pain. When his eyes were closed, though, his body seemed to focus on the heat and prickling pain of the burn that covered his back, arms, front, and face. Kuja had rarely been exposed to so much sun. There are drawbacks to living a pampered life apparentlly.

Zidane took the sigh and the following silence as answer enough. He reached over and pet Kuja’s hair soothingly. "Well, I brought more of the balm from the moogles. Do you want me to put some on your back?" To Zidane, Kuja’s back seemed the worst affected. The once-flawless skin was now bright red and smattered with irritated blisters. Zidane had never seen anyone affected by the sun this much!

Tentatively, Kuja shifted his body until he was resting on his stomach. He imagined he could feel the heat of Zidane’s skin before the younger man even touched him. Kuja hissed in pain as the cool balm touched his skin. The difference in temperature made the burning cold feel as if it could bore a hole right through him. Zidane continued to dab the healing balm onto Kuja’s skin, but the man wouldn’t lay still. Kuja kept writhing and finally, Zidane gave up on administering the medicine. "I’ll come back in a while and try again, Kuja. Get some rest, okay? I’ll be back with lunch."

Kuja nodded into his pillow. His tears had soaked the fabric and he could feel his fingernails straining against the pressure of his grip on the pillow. Kuja felt foolish, ashamed, and defenseless covered in burns as he was. The sunburn is karma, he thought to himself. He would bare the pain in penitence for what he’d done to the world. With those thoughts swirling through his mind, he fell into a deep, healing sleep.

The world blurred and shifted as Kuja pried his eyes open. His eyelashes felt gritty and glued together. He closesd his eyes again while trying to rub the sleep away. The room felt soothingly cool and Kuja could hear someone humming from nearby. Once again, Kuja opened his eyes. The world slowly took focus and Kuja watched Zidane sitting in a chair and mending something in his lap. But wait, that wasn’t Zidane’s voice. Kujs blinked hard and had another look. Mikoto was the one sitting in the chair at Kuja’s bedside. When had she arrived and how long had she been there, Kuja wondered.

Mikoto didn’t seem to notice Kuja stirring. She was busy mending a white, blousy shirt that rested in her lap. Kuja listened intently to the song she was humming. It seemed somehow familiar, but when he tried to recall the lyrics of the song or even the name, the memory would dance just out of reach. Frustrated, he finally asked, "What are you doing here, Mikoto?"

"Watching you as Zidane asked me to," she answered without missing a beat in her song. Something in the way she answered made Kuja think that she had known he was awake. "Would you like more balm on your back now?" Finally, Mikoto looked Kuja’s way. Her eyes were expressionless as he’d ever known them to be. Mikoto, Kuja always thought, seemed much more like the other Genomes than he or Zidane did. Then again, he knew there was something very intelligent going on deep down in Mikoto’s mind. Maybe her blank expression was a pretense she’d adopted to blend in with the others? Kuja couldn’t say for certain, and he’d never cared enough to come to a final conclusion anyway.

"No," Kuja answered as he rested his head back on his pillow. His voice seemed tired even to his ears. However, as he took a mental inventory of his aches and pains he had to admit that he felt pretty good. The sunburn didn’t keep him feverishly hot and the prickles of pain on his back had almost disappeared. He wondered to himself just how well that balm on his back had worked.

Mikoto set her sewing aside and answered Kuja’s thoughts aloud. "Your back is almost healed by the balm. Zidane has been applying it twice a day for the past three days."

Kuja didn’t waste a moment questioning how Mikoto knew what he was thinking, but instead he wondered aloud, "Three days? How have I slept for so long?"

Mikoto stood quietly and crossed the space between her chair and the bed. Kuja watched that neutral expression change to something more sympathetic. "Your were drowning in your dreams."

A small crease appeared between Kuja’s eyebrows as he considered Mikoto for the space of a few, heavy heartbeats. "What did I say while I was sleeping?"

"Nothing," Mikoto replied softly.

"Then I was tossing and turning in my sleep," Kuja concluded.

"No." Mikoto answered in the same tone and then clarified, "I read your thoughts while you slept." Mikoto cast her gaze down to the soft sheets on Kuja’s bed.

Kuja sat up slowly. Had that been what he felt from Mikoto from time to time? He knew there had been something strange about her. Garland had given her the gift of telepathy. Jealousy, distrust, and fear crept into his mind and he watched Mikoto take a step back and raise her hands slowly in defense. Kuja blinked and curiosity dampened the intensity of his own fear. He realized that Mikoto was still very afraid of him. But why? He’d never done anything directly to her.

Mikoto lowered her hands and retired back to her chair as if it were a sanctuary. She kept her gaze down, and couldn’t help but feel Kuja’s various emotions wash over her. She couldn’t guard herself against feeling another Genome’s thoughts. More accurately, she couldn’t guard herself against Zidane’s and Kuja’s thoughts. The other Genomes had a warm buzz of mind energy. They all seemed alike, but Zidane and Kuja were different. Their thoughts, emotions, and intentions were as clear to her as her own thoughts and sometimes it was truly overwhelming.

Kuja brushed his hair from his face as he watched the younger Genome hug herself. Kuja wasn’t certain if he should comfort her or leave her alone. He’d done nothing to hurt her, but there she sat as if he’d backhanded her back into her chair. Kuja shared her discomfort and finally surrendered to adopting a much more neutral position. He rested on his stomach and asked as gently as he could muster, "Please rub some of the balm on my back, Mikoto. Then you can tell Zidane to take your place."

Swallowing hard, Mikoto eased out of the chair toward the bed. She picked up the jar of balm from the bedside table and opened it with trembling hands. Even though she could read Kuja’s thoughts, she was always fearful of his intentions. When she was young, she felt his harsh moodswings and toxic hatred for the other Genomes. She, of course, felt that hatred more accutely than any of the others and it caused her such pain! What had she ever done to that beautiful man to make him hate her so much?

Nervous, shaking fingers traced uneven lines through the balm. Kuja felt a pang of guilt for Mikoto. He still had no idea what he’d done to her, but he was certain he was acting this way because she was so terribly afraid. How could he comfort her?

Mikoto mumbled an apology, but kept spreading the balm over Kuja’s wonderfully flawless skin. Kuja relaxed her her touch and denied the apology. He still wasn’t sure how he could comfort her, so he simply relaxed and mentally followed her fingers up and down his spine. Mikoto breathed a sigh of relief. Her hands stopped trembling and she spread the balm evenly over what remained of Kuja’s sunburn. The blisters on his back had healed and his skin was only faintly tinted pink.

Before long, Kuja lost himself in thought and began to doze off again. When Mikoto finished and rose from the bed, he awoke and rolled lazily onto his back. Mikoto stared down at him as if to memorize the lines of his body. Kuja smiled softly and spoke a small word of thanks. Mikoto beamed. That was the first kind word she’d ever received from Kuja...even after having rescued him from the root prison of the Iifa tree.

"Shall I go get Zidane now?" As Mikoto asked this, her smile faded back to neutrality. She didn’t want to push her luck.

Kuja adjusted the sheets that were tangled between his thighs. He smoothed the thin, soft fabric over his waist while nodding to Mikoto. "If you’re not comfortable around me, I think you should." His gaze traced back to hers to judge her reaction.

The young woman peered over her shoulder at the door. After a moment’s consideration, he turned back to Kuja and gave an apologetic bow. "I think I will fetch him soon, but I would like to show you something first."

Raising an eyebrow in question, Kuja watched her walk over to her chair and pick up the blousey shirt she had been mending. "I brought this from the village and I hope you like it," Mikoto explained as she laid the shirt on the bed beside Kuja. "Oh, and this too." The young woman then presented a pair of slim-legged leather pants.

Kuja watched her with the same intent curiosity. Why had she brought him gifts? Wasn’t she just cowering a moment ago? Now granted, the clothes he had been wearing were getting rather ragged, but he wasn’t sure he cared for a change of wardrobe. Then again, those leather pants did look snug.

Mikoto did her best to ignore his thoughts. She accepted his silence as her dismissal and left to go find Zidane. As she passed out of that invisible sphere in which she could hear Kuja’s thoughts, she began to think to herself. After all, thinking was always a little easier when you didn’t have someone else’s thought patterns invading your mind. She smiled and clasped her hands together as she remembered the feeling of Kuja’s skin under her fingers. Mikoto had always wanted to touch that lovely body, but the intensity of his hatred frightened her. Mikoto was no warrior and the magic she knew paled in comparison to Kuja’s. Still, she admired him and enjoyed watching him from afar. Now that he was freed from his service as Garland’s ‘Angel of Death’ Kuja had become far more approachable.

Lost in thought, Mikoto was startled by her reflection in a mirror directly in front of her. Usually, she had warning when approaching anyone else, and for a split second, she’d thought someone had snuck up on her. With relief, she recognized the reflection and watched her smile. Mikoto dropped her hands to her sides and evaluated herself from the front and side. She wondered idly what Kuja thought of her. Sure she looked so much like all the other Genomes, but she knew her hair was a little more exotic and her fashion sense was far superior to theirs. She could never hope to live up to Kuja’s sense of style and his almost angelic features, but she would confess with certainty that she was the cutest female Genome she knew.

From the hallway, Kuja heard a girlish giggle. He considered venturing out of the bedroom to see what had happened, but his body just didn’t feel fit for the effort just yet. Instead, Kuja slid out of the sheets covering his nudity. He stood, shakily at first, and then stretched. His body felt almost totally rejuvinated. Save for some soreness from laying in bed for so long, and the slight prickling annoyance from the burn on his shoulders and arms, he felt great. After taking a mental inventory of his well-being, he turned to the clothing Mikoto had set out for him. The shirt had flowing sleeves, but tight cuffs, and the neckline looked as if it dipped down to about mid-chest. Shining silver lacings kept the neckline fastened in a narrow ‘V’. The cuffs looked to be decorated with embroidery of some kind. Purple and silver butterflies and birds flew around curls and swirls. Hmm, Mikoto did have good taste.

Slipping into the shirt, Kuja tested it for its fit. The shirt was roomy and cool. The sides were split from mid-thigh to his hip to make it easier to tuck in. He considered his reflection in a broken mirror that was propped against the wall. He had to admit, he was beautiful...even when wearing something that looked like a nightshirt. His slender thighs danced from one direction to the other as he turned and watched himself. He flicked his long white tail at the mirror and smiled dashingly. How could anyone resist a body like his?

Zidane stepped in just then to see Kuja parading in front of the mirror. The younger man smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. "How’s the view?" he asked jokingly as a manner of announcing his entrance.

Kuja had seen the other man out of the corner of his eye, so his arrival wasn’t a surprise. Kuja’s answer came in that sensual purr that Zidane was coming to know probably too well, "The view is breathtaking, don’t you agree?"

Zidane’s shoulders bounced with a good-natured chuckle. "If by breathtaking you mean laying in the dust and trying to catch our breath after that last time."

A slow, sly smile pulled at Kuja’s lips as he turned Zidane’s way. "That is what I mean exactly. So you’re ready for another round?"

With a hand on the back of his head, Zidane coughed a small, embarrassed laugh and admitted, "I wouldn’t be comfortable with um, the company here, y’know?"

Kuja turned away with a simple nod and lifted the leather pants to examine them. He speculated that Zidane really wasn’t comfortable with the relationship anyway and to openly advertise it would’ve made him all the more uneasy. Kuja on the other hand couldn’t care less. Good sex was good sex and with Zidane it was great sex. However, there was no knowing how Mikoto would’ve really reacted to it all. She was, of course, welcome to join in the fun. Kuja had never really thought of her that way, but if the opportunity presented itself, he wouldn’t mind sharing some pleasure with her. Besides, wouldn’t it be more intense for a telepath?

Zidane watched Kuja stretch those skintight leather pants over his slender legs and then pull them over his soft hips. He stepped forward to assist Kuja with his tail. Zidane knew that tails in pants could be bothersome sometimes. Especially in cases where one has to relieve themselves in the wilderness but is interrupted by a bumbling knight demanding to keep moving for the sake of his princess. Zidane smiled to himself with the memory of walking a full four hours with his tail in his pants because he couldn’t resituate it in time. It had been uncomfortable, sure, but looking back it was actually rather comical.

His hand guided Kuja’s tail through the hole in the leather pants. Zidane stroked the tail fondly as Kuja absently wound it around the other man’s ankle. Meanwhile, Kuja worked on tucking the shirt into the pants. His nimble fingers laced the front of the pants and then pulled them tight around the buldge of his package. Again, Kuja examined himself in the mirror and smiled with satisfaction. The new outfit was less revealing than his former design, but it was certainly more practical. Besides that, those leather pants hugged his buttocks enticingly. His tail stood out in stark contrast and for once, Kuja didn’t really mind. All said, he was gorgeous.

Throwing himself on the bed, Zidane laid there on his back and asked, "So how are you feeling, bro?"

Kuja lifted a long lavander ribbon from the nigthstand and tied his hair. "The pain is gone for the most part." He seated himself beside Zidane and offered a heartfelt, "Thank you for all that you’ve done." He touched his cool fingertips to Zidane’s warm smile and then laid on his side beside him. "I feel renewed somehow and more relaxed. Things really have changed, haven’t they?"

Tucking his hands behind his head, Zidane made a rather non-committal gesture. "I guess, Kuja, but I’m not the one who changed you, y’know? You wanted to change." He rolled his gaze to meet Kuja’s. "You’ve come a long way and I’m proud to have you as a brother."

That deeply touched Kuja and he would’ve loved to snuggle up to Zidane, but there was no telling when Mikoto would walk in on them. On that subject, Kuja ventured, "Did you know about Mikoto...?"

"What about her, exactly?" Zidane turned his gaze back to the ceiling and watched the cobwebs overhead dance lazily on a draft from the ceiling.

"Did you know she’s telepathic?"

Zidane blinked. "Huh? As in ‘she can read thoughts’?" Zidane laughed and nodded at the ceiling. "You know, that explains a lot. No, I didn’t even know. No wonder she acts so weird."

With a quiet nod, Kuja too rolled onto his back. "Garland never told me, but that would certainly explain why she acted the way she did soon after she was created."

"Eh..." Zidane just hated that word ‘created’ when referring to the Genomes. He would’ve suggested Kuja used ‘born’ but that was an argument he didn’t feel like getting into again. "Well, from what I saw, Garland wasn’t one for idle conversation, huh? He just wasn’t much of a father."

Rolling his tongue over his lips thoughtfully, Kuja made a sound of agreement. "He wasn’t, but then neither was I."

Zidane sat up and peered at Kuja in surpise. "What? You’re a father?"

Zidane wondered by whom he had children. Of course, considering how easy Kuja was with sex, he wouldn’t doubt he’d sewn his seed all over the world. Still, Zidane was mildly excited with the possibility of having nieces and nephews he’d never met. Wouldn’t that be a great family reunion? Er, then again, it probably would be somewhat awkard. ‘Here’s your father, Kuja, the guy who almost destroyed the world. Oh, and your uncle Zidane who saved the world.’ Zidane thought to himself.

"Well, in the same sense that Garland is our father, I suppose," Kuja sighed and shifted back to lounging on his side. "The Black Mages, as well as Zorn and Thorn are my children."

Zidane pursed his lips. "Yeah, that’s right. You created them, didn’t you." Ah well, so much for the family reunion.

"Mist, black magic, and the blueprint of my seed. All it takes is experimentation and some know-how. Garland didn’t think I was capable of making anything like them." There was something in Kuja’s tone that stated plainly that he was still fairly proud of his accomplishment. Zidane frowned on that, but let it slide.

2So that means Vivi’s my nephew, huh?"

Kuja purred a chuckle and watched Zidane’s smile fade away as he explained, "He is, and a very unique one at that. His name isn’t ‘Vivi’ though. He’s number sixty-six. The stamp on the back of his neck V-I-V-I is our native numerals for the number sixty-six. If he wants to be called ‘Vivi’ though," Kuja shrugged non-chalantly, "Then I won’t interfere."

Zidane made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth, even if he didn’t completely understand. Then he pressed, "So how is Vivi special?"

"He was the only one created as an infant." Again, that non-chalant shrug from Kuja. "It was a fluke, and I raised him for a time with Zorn and Thorn’s help until I became bored of being a father. When he was close to seven years old, I had them dispose of him."

A silence stretched between the two. Zidane watched Kuja turn and stare at the ceiling as he’d been doing. Something heavy weighed down the silence until it was almost suffocating. Into the silence, Kuja whispered an apology. "It was all part of the game," he admitted quietly.

Zidane would’ve responded to comfort Kuja but as he opened his mouth, Mikoto knocked on the threshold of the bedroom and peered in. She observed the two men quietly and then took a step out of sight with an apologetic bow. "No...no, Mikoto. It’s okay. We were just talking." Zidane seemed a bit too eager to Kuja as he spoke, but Kuja made no move to stop him. "You can come back in," Zidane called to the younger Genome.

Mikoto ventured in with baby steps but hung back. Even from several paces, she could feel Kuja’s remorse and some anxiety in Zidane. She thought that perhaps her presence had caused it. As she stood there, she could feel Zidane calm. Kuja still remained troubled. "I am very sorry to interrupt. Dinner is ready if you would like to eat." Her voice was timidly soft.

Zidane looked from Mikoto to Kuja. He then chirped, trying to remain optimistic, "Hey, well I don’t know about you two, but I’m starved." With that, he hopped up off the bed and made a hasty exit. That left Kuja and Mikoto alone in the oppressive silence.

Slowly, Kuja sat up and smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt. He looked up to see Mikoto standing quietly and just staring at him. Climbing to his feet, he closed the distance between them and stood toe to toe with her. Mikoto didn’t move, but kept her gaze lowered.

Kuja mirrored her silence and let his heart soak in his remorse. He was truly repentant for all the things he’d done. The man just wasn’t sure if he could forgive himself. "You can feel this too, can’t you?" Kuja finally asked. If she could, he assumed that she would know of what he spoke.

Mikoto nodded and sobbed softly. She couldn’t help herself. Kuja’s pain over-rode her own emotions. Kuja wrapped his arms about her and drew her into a tight hug. "You don’t have to cry my tears for me, Mikoto," he whispered into her soft hair. "But thank you for understanding me."

Mikoto rested her head on his chest and just let Kuja’s relief wash over her. She felt cleansed and secure, or were those Kuja’s feelings?