5/17/2001
Kus: This fic is right now indefinitely on hold. I haaaaate to do it, but it looks like I just off more than I could chew with this one. I have a beginning, a middle, and NO END. ARGH. Any suggestions? In the meantime, I have a Blue Seed / Angel (BtVS) crossover waiting for me, as well as an FF8 idea - both of which have been rotting little holes in my head for a while now.
Redemption
A Final Fantasy VII / VIII Crossover
[ Chapter 1 ]
Aerith smiled at him, through her fear. The confusion on his face was evident, and his sword still quivered at his side, beckoning him to make that blow. Cloud was going to be sad, she knew, and that look of anguish on his face almost broke her serenity. But he would understand in the end.
Her smile faltered at the sounds above; a howling rush of air, leather flapping, the hiss of a sword leaving its scabbard...
A moment of doubt clouded her resolution.
Wasn't there another way?
Don't let Cloud suffer...
Don't let Sephiroth suffer...
Please...
* * *
He drew in a ragged breath, spent. It took most of his remaining strength just to kneel, and to keep conscious. Nearby he could hear the dying wind from his Lady's Maelstrom spelll, followed by the unique set of booms that could have only accompanied a Renzokuken attack. Deliriously he smiled, remembering that the Bloodfest technique he was working on would put puberty boy's wimpy blow to shame.
Then the roar of the battle dimmed, punctuated by his Lady's scream, then the quiet hiss of her tremendous gown and train. A groan barely escaped his lips and he collapsed admist an overwash of anger and despair. They'd been defeated! By those damnable SeeD no less...
What was a Knight if he could not protect his Sorceress?
But then he saw the lithe, lovely form of the girl he'd met and loved only a year before kneeling before him, worry distorting the little space between her eyebrows. He swallowed as he looked into her eyes, trying to force himself to be JUST angry and nothing else.
Suddenly, her eyes widened in fright and shock and she fell. Just like that. Her beautiful head cracked against the floor, and he couldn't hold back a tiny gasp. Tiny sparks of pain cascaded up his sides, punishing him for that small gesture.
Then She beckoned him...
To be a knight again...
To feel the power and the glory that only She could grant him...
He rose to his feet. Yes...
But... Rinoa...
Can't leave her like this!
...What am I doing?
Something's wrong...
* * *
Mother...
Glory for Mother...
Ultimate sacrifice...
Forgive me...
No...
...What am I doing?
Something's wrong...
* * *
Aerith felt it. And Rinoa felt it.
If only Rinoa could have wept for her friend.
* * *
Stars burst behind his eyes. For a moment he thought that Squall and his cronies must have struck him while he was down.
The coward!
...And suddenly he was falling. His heart raced suddenly in panic. What had happened to the gunblade in his hand? It was far lighter than he remembered, strangely balanced, and raised above his head as if to strike at the young woman who knelt below. She looked up at him, a knowing smile on her face.
What the hell was she doing just sitting there?!
He twisted mid-air, and his side slammed into the stone floor with enough force to knock all the breath from his lungs. Whatever blade he'd been holding skittered away and clanged loudly against something or other. Taking into consideration his wounds and his depleted physical state, there was no way he could stand after such a fall.
But then again, he wasn't wounded. And he wasn't tired. And who the hell was screaming at him to kill the bitch?! He clapped his hands over his ears.
"Aarrrgh! Shut the fuck up!"
* * *
He stumbled, blinking away the sudden stars.
There was no longer the sound of rushing water, or the haunting echoes that blessed the underground hall in the Ancient City. In fact, the cold metal walls and colorful decor were a definite change from the centuries old stone, most of which had pulsated with Mako energy. It was all very puzzling.
That, and he was tired. Blood was trickling out of the side of his mouth. Each breath he took was an effort, making broken ribs grate against the muscles on the inside of his chest. Patches of burnt skin itched or tingled, promising later pains. Idly, he remembered similar (and worse) wounds he'd suffered back in his days as an elite ShinRa SOLDIER.
...As... As ShinRa...
...As the General...
...Hundreds of men under his command... The glory of the battle...
He remembered!
A euphoric smile broke on his face. For the first time in weeks, months, YEARS, he'd had a thought unhindered by hate and ambition, free from the madness that had engulfed him so long ago. Laughter began to rumble in his chest, but whatever injuries he was suffering from twisted it into a harsh fit of coughing. Perhaps it was best to immediately begin fixing the errors of the past. It was best that he started with the Ancient...
But the prone girl at his feet was definitely not the Cetra. And the motley group in front of him were too young to be SOLDIER, or even Avalanche. They were looking at him with everything from suspicion to outright hate, the last belonging to a scarred individual wearing a fur collared coat. It was then that he noticed cloth at his chest where there hadn't been. His eyes followed the blue shirt crossed in white, noted the steel toed boots, peered across the gray sleeve with its ominous red pattern, then fixated at the absurdly constructed blade in his black clad hand.
...The Sorceress needed her Knight. He closed his eyes, confused, trying to focus the voice.
She promised everything she said he needed...
Which was what...?
But it would take complete subservience in exchange.
And he would have none of that. Not anymore.
So he refused her. Violently.
His eyes met those of the scarred boy. He employed a look that had cowed the hardest SOLDIER.
"Where am I?"