Title: Commitment

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Pairing: Knife/Lazard Deusericus

Warning: If you are overly emotional, this may make you tear from pure fluffy happiness.

Summary: He was a committed man, just in the wrong places.

Notes: I have found that I just may like Knife/Lazard more then I originally thought.

"I attempted to find out exactly what commitment meant; you always used the word ever so heavily and I needed to know why."

The floor was buzzing with both delight and distress, that much was clear, since the war was finally over. There would be no further mindless warfare in another country for the men that still stood with the company, but all was not well in the insane world of Shin-Ra. After all, many lives on both sides were lost and countless SOLDIER members had just seemed to disappear without an explanation. The unit's work might have been close to being finished, but their exhausted director's was not — that is assuming that it was ever completely concluded.

The blond man sat at his desk, his body arched over the top and fingers hammering away at the keys on the computer. Updating the forms on the screen were the least of his worries, lying was in his blood and came naturally to him, but his lack of sleep seemed to be driving him off the edge. He attempted to focus his gaze, in a struggle to succeed in straightening the letters on the monitor that seemed to be dancing about. After a few more efforts, he gave up, placing his elbow against the desk and pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Mr. Deusericus," came a soft-spoken voice that almost startled the young director. Blue eyes snapped up to meet the gray gaze of a female TURK, who seemed to be studying his weary frame, the fair-haired man gave a curious look before the woman placed a few yellow folders on the edge of his desk. "The papers you asked for, Sir."

"Thank you." He replied softly and gathered the files quickly, then managed one of his charming grins. "Send my thanks to Verdot as well, Knife."

"Very well." However, she turned a bit; she did not make an exit. She lingered with a concerned aspect to her expression, fingers twitching at her slender sides. "I know that you are very committed to what you're doing, but you should take a break, Sir. You wouldn't want to over do it."

His meek smile faded quickly as he stared at her, the gears in his mind turning quickly. His head shook slightly before he turned his gaze to the files and flipped one open — orbs scanning over the words. "Have you ever had a great devotion to something, Knife?"

"Of course." She spoke carefully yet still holding her straightforward tone, "A guy actually, but he's such a fool."

His eyes moved back to her in thought, staring for a moment before his head lowered once more. There was a flash of silence between the two employees; Lazard feeling a ping of regret in his heart, while the female stood as unmoving as a sculpture. Although, Lazar found himself standing and turning his gaze to the young woman. "Knife?"

She arched a thin brow, "Yes?"

"How…" He offered the first genuine smile in so long, "How about that foolish guy take the night off and take you out to dinner?"

"I wouldn't want him to lose sight of his main dedication."

He smiled at her, which she shakily returned. "I think his commitments have been mixed up for far too long."

"Well then, I suppose we should go." She could not stop the smile that formed as he took her hand gently into his, leading her out of his office.

"Commitment means to show loyalty, duty or pledge to something or someone. I may have been committed to a cause for revenge, but my heart gave me another; one to you."