It's always that simple in the beginning, though, isn't it? Things start out small, tiny, infinitesimal, then grow from there. So it was with him. One sperm, one egg, one specimen. Brought together, they formed a new cell. Then a zygote. Then an embryo. Then a fetus. And finally . . . my son. Perfection, created in a laboratory with the purity of Science.
Things weren't always that simple- oh, Planet no! I had to keep an eye on my wife; she was to be the incubator for Homo superior, our perfect child! I had to keep such a close eye on her, female hormones being what they are and all. So irrational, the human female. And with that misbegotten Turk running after her like a a dog chases a bitch in heat . . . disgraceful. Simply disgraceful. I never admitted it to anyone, but I was so very relieved when his DNA tests confirmed I was the father. I would have had to shunt him into another experiment otherwise and try again. No sense in wasting my time on a tainted specimen, after all, and I do hate to waste anything.
Lucretia . . . ah, you were such a bright girl. An idiot when it came to anything outside of science, of course, but you had such a beautifully analytical mind. The fact that you had such a pleasing physical shape didn't hurt matters either . . . heh heh. Did you ever know that I loved you? I did, you know. I didn't always tell you, and perhaps I should have, but I did. Not, perhaps, the grand love that dunderhead Valentine was always trying to tempt you with, but a kind of love nonetheless. I loved your mind and your naivety; I loved how I was able to mold you into the perfect carrier for the perfect child, subservient to my whims. I even loved your ridiculous emotional outbursts. They showed me you still had a semblance of free will. What fun is there in having a cringing slave?
At the same time . . . well, in the interests of being scientific, I might as well be complete. I wanted you all to myself, Lucretia. I hated every moment you ever spet with that filthy Shin-Ra mongrel. You were mine, mine to share in the joys of scientific exploration, mine to share in the joys of parenthood, mine to hold in my arms and draw my name screaming from your lips-
- ah, I must be getting maudlin in my old age. I have all the creature comforts I need now- sex, drugs, free scientific reign- but I do sometimes miss the old days. All the anger I had against you I expended on that little lab rat you loved so much. I didn't want to taint your memory with hatred- you might say the price was too high, but since you're not the one that paid it, who cares? I can be free to think about you fondly now.
Sentimentalism. Hmph.
Now, Jenova . . . Jenova I loved in a very different way. Jenova was a paragon of beauty, perfection and wonder and the unknown all wrapped up in one humanoid bundle for me to study. I could gaze at her form for hours on end, wondering what glorious sights she had seen, what places she had known, before she landed here on this miserable little dustball. She was a goddess, riding the night skies down to me.
I call her my 'lover' as a joke- actually, Lucretia started it, accusing me of loving Jenova more than her. So foolish. So very purile! There are no limits to love, just as there are no limits to science. Jenova was a kindred spirit. When I began injecting myself with her essence, there was such fire and pain and sweet bliss that I couldn't help but become addicted to her. Through our 'bond' I could see the stars as she saw them, hear the world as she hears it. Through my eyes she can experience the strange and tiny world of humanity. We're strange and imperfect creatures, and yet she wants to redeem us, I think. She knew before I did that my child would be a boy, and knew before I did that he was of my flesh and blood (though I couldn't help but doubt it until after I tested him myself).
I know they all say I'm insane, a mad scientist, and who am I to disagree? Perhaps I am insane, my mind muddled to mush from the mako and Jenova treatments. But, if being sane means living without this communion, I'll be just as happy to be insane, thank you very much.
Where was I? Ah, the joining of our three essences together. I wept when I first held Sephiroth in my arms, did you know that? Kicking and squalling and covered in blood, a curl of purest silver hair on his head and eyes that seemed to glow- he was and still is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Perfection, in a tiny screaming bundle. His fingers wrapped around my pinky- they were so very tiny, so very perfectly formed. I think I finally understood why so many people get overemotional about children. To think that this perfect little angel was part of me, that I helped create something this extraordinary . . . ah, it's hard to describe. It was the happiest day of my life!
And then things fell apart in short order, what with Lucretia running off and Shin-Ra demanding results and all. I knew they'd want him eventually, but damned if I was going to let him out of my sight during his formative years! Those two years were glorious. Yes, I poked and prodded and used him as a test subject. I had to! He was the first of his kind! What if he'd gotten sick? How would I know what sort of medicines would help or harm him? I did it to make him grow strong and to keep him safe. So, yes, I was the evil, bad father with the needles and scalpel. Hate me if you like. I know my son does. He doesn't remember anything specifically- he thinks that buffoon Gast is his real father- but I suppose he remembers enough to make him fear and loathe me.
He'll never remember the good times we shared, I don't think. I fed him and changed him and packed him around when he was colicky. I read to him and brought him toys. I watched him go to sleep each night, sometimes wondering what miracle led me to have such a perfect child. I love my son. Even if he doesn't reognize me for who I am, he's still my son. And I will always love him.
. . . you know, in retrospect, I'm a very fortunate man. I have had three great loves in my lifetime, each one more resplendent than the first. Carnal love, intellectual love, parental love. These are what carry me on when I grow weary of pursuing my scientific research- not that it happens often, mind. Science brought these loves into my life. Is it any wonder that I worship it so?
Science. Breaking things down into their basest parts. Learning how things work, watching them grow and change. Everything starts with the smallest of parts.
And in our beginning, we were three.