A/N: To those who celebrate it, happy Mother's Day.
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy. All characters go to their respectful owners. I only own this story.
A Box of Catnip
Sephiroth.
Her beloved son, Sephiroth. Her cat-eyed son. How she loved him so.
She wished she could tell him that he was loved. Hojo had never treated his son as more than an experiment. It was heartless, really, what Hojo had done to him.
She loved him, though. Sephiroth was her own flesh and blood. She couldn't call him an experiment after harboring him inside her body for nine months. She had loved Sephiroth before he was even born.
Hojo had taken away any chance she would ever have to show Sephiroth that love. Her son had been ripped from her like a rag doll. Put immediately into the labs to be tested on. She hadn't even heard him cry. Not once, had she ever heard Sephiroth make a sound. Maybe he was just afraid of the lab coats that were everywhere. She knew she was. Ever since she had learned she was pregnant, she had avoided the labs as much as possible.
It didn't change anything, though. As soon as Hojo's 'experiment' had been born, everything else was disposable. Including his mother. He had merely sneered at her feeble attempts to try to let him give her Sephiroth, and told her to go check up on their other experiment.
Vincent.
Oh how she wished she had stayed with him. Vincent would have made a great father. Together, the two of them would have made Sephiroth strong. They would have shown their son love. But Vincent was gone. Hojo had turned the only man who had truly loved her into an experiment.
Sephiroth. He had grown up in the labs. Unloved. Left to fend for himself. She wanted nothing more than to show her son she loved him.
But she couldn't. Hojo had made sure that he was the only one to touch their son. Gloves were not the same as a mother's touch. Not that Sephiroth would ever know. He had never been treated with love as an experiment. She couldn't change that.
He had been too young to read, so she could not leave him a note. He had never learned what joy it was to receive a gift, so she could not give him one. He was old enough to read now, but she was gone. And it was impossible to receive love through a letter. She wished she could give him something that showed her love. A box of chocolates, perhaps.
But alas, he had still never learned what it felt like to receive a gift. He would not know what it meant.
Sephiroth was alone. He had been told that he was the one to kill his mother, during childbirth. It was true that his mother had died when he was born, but Sephiroth had not killed her. Hojo had. She had ceased to be his mother when he was taken from her. She had not been able to protect her son. She had failed.
But she still loved her son. Her cat-eyed son.
Sephiroth.
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