A / N: Story is set in an alternative setting a few years before Crisis Core. Genesis never went rogue and was sent on a mission to protect a 'key asset' of the company; a certain young girl who happened to be the last of the Cetras.
I never played Crisis Core but I imagine Genesis as a standoffish, reclusive kind of guy, whose idea of solitude (and the steps he takes to enforce them) is mistaken for arrogance. Of course my Genesis is also a closet romantic, driven in every sense of the word, and has a biting sense of humour that comes out only in certain company of trusted friends. If you think you can squint to look at Genesis this way then read on.
This is also an exchange fic written for ObsessiveCompulsiveValkyrie who also beta'ed its early versions. The prompt was the song Aquarius by Within Temptation to a Generith. The plot turned out not having anything to do with the lyrics (but I really, really tried). Still the lyrics are interspersed between chapters (there are 5 in total).
Enjoy, and please do leave a review.
I hear your whispers
break the silence and it calms me down.
"Genesis."
The SOLDIER Director acknowledged his presence before he looked up from his desk and gestured at the empty seat in front of his table.
"Lazard." Genesis shook his head and looked at him pointedly. He did not want to stay long.
Lazard looked him over before he pulled out an envelope from the tray on his desk and handed it to him. "I have an urgent mission for you. A special mission."
An eyebrow arched at the emphasis on the word. So-called 'special missions' were usually for the Turks, not for SOLDIERS. Subtlety, after all, wasn't their strong suit. But he kept his silence and waited for the Director to continue.
"It's… high profile, in a way," he said by way of explanation. The Director had a hint of tiredness in his normally neutral voice. "You are to travel to Nibelheim and protect a key asset of the Shin-Ra company."
"A 'key asset'?" His eyes narrowed in confusion.
A small smile tugged the corner of his officer's lips. "Yes. Those are the files." The brown envelope was sealed and he could feel the bulk of materials inside it. "Try and... blend in. Do not to call attention to your affiliation to SOLDIER or Shin-Ra. You are the most subtle from anyone in 1st class, so this mission goes to you."
He frowned at this. Sephiroth was definitely too distinctive to blend in because of his silver hair. But Angeal looked plainer than the two of them and could pull subtlety off, he was sure of it. Maybe his moral and strong sense of honor would get in the way. That leaves him. Well, whatever the reason, he was glad to have another mission so soon after the last one was concluded. He prepared to exit, hand at the door handle.
"One more thing." Genesis paused and turned back to Lazard. "Drop by Professor Hojo at the labs before you leave. He will... prepare you." He said this with obvious distaste, lips curling down at the edges.
His eyebrow arched. Dr. Hollander was the one who oversaw his medical needs, not Hojo. This must be some mission if he was going to be assisted by the rival scientist. But if Sephiroth can stomach him, surely he can as well. With one last nod to the blonde, he turned and exited the office.
He barely arrived at the helicopter transport waiting for him before the full effect of the drug took effect. Goddamn bastard! He cursed as he crashed into his seat, his bag quickly kicked into a corner. He paused as he righted himself and struggled with his seat belt. He could barely hear the sound of the helicopter's engine as he settled for tying the damn belt around his midsection in a fisherman's knot, fingers too buttery to slip the two in together as required.
He leaned his head back on the headrest and felt more than a passing need to vomit. Hojo didn't even have the decency to explain what it was that he gave. He just stuck a needle in Genesis' arm the second he got in, first to draw his blood, then another to inject him with a yellowish substance that tingled as it coursed through his veins.
He was immediately shooed out and told to hurry to transport and make no other stops. He might have imagined the fevered laugh that he heard as the doors closed. The Professor sure didn't believe in wasting time.
His insides felt like molten lead and something squirmed under his skin; he could almost imagine it slithering and hissing like a snake as it coursed through his veins. He could only hope it was another 'enhancement.' He didn't really want to imagine the alternative. He leaned back and drew comfort from where he could; the cool material of the headrest eased the burning inside him somewhat but it wasn't enough.
It was becoming more difficult to breathe. He scrunched his eyes closed as an attack of nausea washed over him. There was something crawling and churning within, wreaking havoc on his nerves. Suddenly his skin was itching like nothing he'd felt before and it was almost enough to make him want to scratch out his own flesh just to stop the torturing sensation. He didn't even know where to begin scratching because he felt the pain all over him. "Ggh!" a fevered cry broke from him as he slumped forward, the belt held him fast against his chair. A thick trail of blood flowed down from his nostrils. He could only bring his trembling fingers to wipe it as it trailed down his chin. His gaze fell to the scarlet drops on the floor.
Red should not be of any other shade but this. He remembered the first time he saw that color; the laughter, the jeers, and among them the soothing voice of his mother as she kissed the bleeding wound on his knee. He climbed a tree to reach for a red apple; the only colored one among all the white, but he missed his footing and broke his bone, skin and pride. He would show them, all those who enjoyed the sight of his pain and laughed at his expense. He could get something done with his own two hands even at so young an age. He will heal and he will climb again. He will not be defined by this.
The strong can do whatever they want, after all. He could be strong too.
He remembered the color again as it dripped down the dark blade of his rapier. He had gutted a man; his dying scream still rang in his ears. It was his first human kill. He was older and was part of a war that he did not have to fight in. But he signed on because he wanted to show them all, he wasn't just another man born to privilege and nothing else. He was capable too; capable of taking one, a hundred, a thousand lives and he did it because of the things he believed in. He could also be recognized for this.
A hero stood for something and fought for what they believed in, after all. He could be a hero too.
He remembered the first time he made love; the only time he allowed himself to be lost in the heat of passion with a woman whose desire rivalled his own. Pain and pleasure consumed them as they moved in rhythm; the chase to completion was the only thing that mattered as the whimpers and moans turned to pleas and broken sentences of "faster", "more" and "ohgodohgod…oh!". This was what the body was for; a temple to experience all earthly delights. He'd show them all, he wasn't just another killing machine incapable of feeling anything else. He could arouse and he could give back as good as he gets it. He licked the blood from a woman he kissed hard enough to draw blood. He could get used to this.
A lover bring others pleasure after all. He could be a lover too.
Another warm drop trailed down his chin as the colors that poured out of him slowly blotted out his vision. The swirling mess pulled and churned until all sight faded into nothing but the feeling of pain. He took one last shuddering breath and the pain exploded within him unlike anything he'd ever felt.
He screamed in his mind, and wondered if this is how dying felt like.
After all... he was only human too.
...He is in pain...
A soft voice broke through the silence that surrounded him.
He never stops dreaming... his dreams cause him pain...
He tried to open his eyes but they were too heavy. He sunk down again to the comfortable nothingness. This was his end, he was sure of it.
But the voice came again.
His heart is so strong...
When he woke, the first thing that came to mind was that he might be dreaming still. There was a sea of green before him; its luminosity held consciousness, memory... life. It invited him to lose himself within its depths.
The haze in his vision grew clear and he realized the green he saw was only a small part of what was before him. It was her eyes that were green, framed within long brown lashes on a round and youthful face surrounded with delicate chestnut curls. The face hovered only a few inches above him.
"W--" His lungs failed him, coming up short of breath. He took a deep breath and tried again. "What are you looking at?" His voice came out as a croak. Gods, he was thirsty. He tried to move his face away, only to notice her hand was on his cheek. He frowned and stared at what's visible of her wrist. They were so small, like a child's hand, but they felt firm somehow, as if she was used to handling things that were harder than human flesh. And she felt so very warm.
"Took you long enough to wake up." He frowned again as his eyes tried to focus. What the hell did he get himself into again that it fell to young girls to take care of him? He was not that weak!
"Go... a-away... Gods!" He cried at the sudden assault of light on his eyes. The girl moved and, in doing so, unblocked the sunlight that washed in from the window behind her.
He closed his eyes and tried to turn the other way. He was sure she tried to blind him on purpose. He would have glared if he could. But the few words he spoke and the strain of movement in his struggles left him feeling drained. His body felt weak, limp, as if he had not moved for a very long time and had forgotten how it was like.
He sighed and tried to control his breathing. He felt the girl touch his cheek again and immediately felt better at the rush of warmth that spread across his body.
"Sleep now." His eyes fluttered close obediently. From beneath half-closed lids he saw the outline of the girl lean down.
He felt warmth on his lips and wondered if he was dreaming again.
"You almost died you know."
Her voice held a strange resonance; drifting down the waves of unconsciousness he was plunged under. He held on to it and used it as a drowning man would use a rope to surface towards full awareness. He groaned and glanced to his side, seeking the owner of the voice. His vision left much to be desired but slowly details about his environment filtered to him like a remembered taste.
He was in a well-lit, well-furnished room that contained paintings, draperies and plush couches set before a fireplace. He tried to turn to his other side for an extended survey of the room but felt too weak to be bothered. His eyes swept across the side he could see again, searching for the source of the voice that woke him. He was certain that it was here on this side, hiding somewhere in plain view.
"Genesis..." the voice came as a whisper and his eyes finally focused on her.
She sat by the window, occupying one of the two chairs set around a small round table. Her chin was set on the cushion of her arms, which rested atop the table. Her eyes looked toward the window that led outside, gazing at the overcast sky. She was right there at the center of his vision, so obvious in her white nightgown with the morning light wrapped around her like a cloak.
He wondered if he could respond to his name. Seconds passed in silence and he began to wonder if she even said it at all. How could she even know what to call him?
"You have a beautiful name." She flicked her eyes to him and gave him a lazy smile. Her green eyes shone like a jewel with a thousand facets, perfectly cut to reflect even the faintest of light.
He fell asleep again looking into those eyes, wondering if there was a gem in all the world that could compare to their brilliance.
The third time he woke, he felt a little of his strength returned. He slowly sat up despite his body's protest to his movements. He looked around and tried to spot something familiar in the room. The only thing that changed from last time was ashes of the fire, now only a few embers glittered here and there. There was no sign of the girl.
He sighed and willed his legs to fall on one side to the floor. His toes were pleased to meet the soft surface of a carpet and curled them experimentally, trying to bring sensation back to his feet. Where was he, anyway? The last thing he remembered was passing out on the helicopter. He flinched at the remembered pain that overwhelmed his senses. It wasn't like any he's ever felt before, and he wondered if there would be lingering after effects he was to suffer from in the short term.
He stood up and was immediately assaulted by a wave of nausea once again. After a few minutes of steady, lungful of breaths his feet held steady and his balance stayed true. Soon he trailed bare feet across red carpet headed to the only door in the room. He turned the gold plated handle and opened the door to an empty hallway. The light was muted by heavy draperies on the windows. He was thankful for the shade; he doubted if his sensitive eyes could handle the full brightness of the sun right now. He stepped out into the hall and was relieved to find an open door that lead to the facility he needed.
The bathroom was extravagantly outfitted as well. The whole room was made of polished marble with granite countertops and a large mirror that was engraved on one side of the wall. There was also a tub carved out of a raised platform on one corner and a spotless white toilet on another. Gold linings highlighted the shape and edges of the furniture in the room, adding an elegant finish. He headed toward the toilet and sought relief for his kidneys.
When he was done, he crossed over to the counter and turned on the water. Bloodshot eyes stared back at him after he washed his face on the sink. He noticed for the first time his blue cotton night shirt and soft cotton pants, just right for his size. Who dressed him? Where was his pack? He adjusted his dishevelled appearance as best he could and fingered the edges of his hair, idly thinking he was due for a haircut soon. He dried his hand on one of the towels hung behind the door and came back out to the hallway just in time to see the girl appear from a corner with a tray of food on her hands.
They stared at each other for a moment before the girl opened the door to his room and entered, the tips of her braided brown hair barely touching the wooden floor boards. He followed her and shut the door behind him.
"Where did you come from?" he asked as she continued to walk forward, headed to the table in the corner of the room.
"The kitchen downstairs. I brought you food."
He stared at her back for a long moment, taking in the light green robe wrapped around her small frame. She was barefoot. He followed her as she set down the tray in the table and walked towards the windows to pull the draperies apart, allowing light to flood in.
He squinted as he sat down in front of the tray and waited as the girl lifted the tray cover to reveal soup, steak, mashed potatoes and some freshly cut fruits on the side. He inhaled the collective aroma of the meal and closed his eyes, savouring the scent. Then he turned to look at the girl who sat down on the other chair in front of him.
"Who are you? Why am I here?"
He noticed her eyes dance across his features, first to the top of his head, then to his eyes, his nose, his mouth, then to his eyes again. He kept his silence and waited for an answer. "My name is Aerith. They brought you here and bade me to take care of you."
"Who are 'they'?"
"The ones who keep me here..." she averted her eyes. "Shin-Ra."
He carefully guarded his expression. Was she hostile to the company? "Are we in Nibelheim?"
She nodded and continued to watch him patiently.
So he arrived safely after all. He grabbed the glass of water in the tray and eased the dryness in his throat.
"You are SOLDIER, are you not?"
He lifted his eyes to her and saw her carefully blank expression. "What makes you say that?" He made the pretence of ignoring her as he fingered the silverware. He could use this if things got out of hand.
"Mako. It sings in your blood. Like with Sephiroth. And something else, though it seems subdued somehow..."
Blue eyes narrowed dangerously as he stopped slicing the meat before him. She could not be a civilian if she knew these things about SOLDIER. "You know Sephiroth?"
A sad, faraway look crossed her eyes. "Yes. He stayed here before."
"And where is 'here'?" He continued his interrogation even as he forked meat to his mouth.
"You are in the Shin-Ra mansion."
"Are there others here?"
"There are guards who occupy the lower floors. And there's Mrs. Castor from the nearby town who comes here every now and then to help with the cleaning. It's a large mansion after all and I'm afraid I can't maintain it by myself..." she trailed off and seemed to have no more information to offer.
He digested her words as he chewed his food. There was something else that he was curious about. He looked at her again, "How did you know my name?"
She looked at him then lowered her eyes, looking very embarrassed about something. She cleared her throat before she spoke again. "This was with you when you were brought here. I thought I should give it to you when you woke up." She handed him the sealed envelope that Lazard gave him. "Your bag is over there," she gestured to one corner of the room. "...with the clothes you wore. I took the liberty of washing them while you were asleep."
"How long was I out?" He turned the envelope over in his palm. There was no sign of tampering whatsoever. Aerith stood up suddenly and he tensed, gripping the steak knife firmly in his hands. Young girl or not, he still had no idea if she was friend or foe.
"About five days."
He lifted astonished blue eyes to her and he couldn't help but be annoyed. He was out for that long? He had never been unconscious for more than 24 hours before, no matter his injuries. Whatever Hojo gave him must have been pretty strong.
"I'll be in my room if you need me. It's just down the hall." She said as she withdrew, heading to the door and shutting it with a soft click.
He looked down at the package in his hand, idly wondering if the time he was passed out would have any implication on the special mission he was assigned to. He turned the envelope over again. It did not bear marks of tampering.
In fact, there were no identifying marks whatsoever. Not even his name.
Pictures. All of her. When she was a baby, when she had short hair, when she was riding a bicycle, the most recent one was stolen of her as she tended to what looked like a garden.
Aerith Faremis. Barely 15. Guard mission. Indefinite duration.
Genesis turned over the orders he received. She was the special asset?
The files detailed information on the perimeter, the security measures that was already in place for her protection and the staff that helped out in the mansion. There was even information on the nearby town and its chief citizens. But it did not contain the potential threat that they faced.
Stay close to her. Guard her with your life.
"From what?" He sighed and reread the documents again. There was no mention or sign of previous dangers faced or potential vulnerabilities. There weren't even any mention of family relations. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was assigned to babysit this precious little someone's daughter. Whoever the parents were had enough power and resources from the company to get an arrangement like this.
Maybe she's the President's illegitimate daughter. He shook his head. He was not here to speculate and he had a mission to fulfill. Having committed the information to memory, he went to the nearby fireplace and tossed the paper and the pictures into the ashes. No need to leave around information that could compromise the mission. He started a fire with a flick of his fingers and tossed the rest of the other pictures. He grasped the last left on the table and was about to throw it when he glanced at it again. It was a profile shot of her as she bent close to a lily blossom, eyes closed with a half-smile on her face.
He scrutinized the picture; he just couldn't see a resemblance between her, the President or even Rufus. "What's so special about you that you need to be protected?" His eyes searched the photo for a clue even though he was sure he would not be able to unlock any mysteries in the black and white still frame.
He sighed and closed his eyes. Whatever it was, he was sure he would find out soon enough.
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If you'd like to read more FF7 fanfic, check out my oneshots in The Men in Her Life, which features Tifa with different pairings. The 4th oneshot, And Then There Was Light features GenesisxTifa.