A little dry for my regular writing, but its more of a foundation on which to build a few more chapters. (Yes, this should have more chapters added in the future.)

This is a one-shot for a LJ fan fiction community, but of course, will turn into a little more than a one-shot when I write more.

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He had admired her for some time, that pretty little thing that always seemed to show up whenever the SOLDIERs were needed in Midgar. Sephiroth had been a young man when she'd first caught his eye, watching a public disturbance being quickly cleaned up by the men in the blue uniforms. He hadn't been a General then; he was only just beginning to climb the rank ladder, but for some reason, her eyes had been on him. That sweet little thing. She had no idea what he was. She had no idea the things he'd done.

After running into her over and over again, Sephiroth had decided to talk to her. Her name was Claire, she said, and she'd been too shy to approach him herself. Watching and waiting was the best way to go, she said, and it paid off since he'd asked her name.

Everything about her was pure, perfect, flawless. Her chestnut hair, her pale skin... everything. It could be said that she was his first love, if such could even be fathomed about the heatless SOLDIER. But Sephiroth never really understood those underlying feelings, and he would end up ruining her.

There was something about her that begged for adventure, but in his eyes, it was punishment she wanted—punishment for being too naïve about the world, and for never having a man before.

He could never truly bring himself to relate to many other people. Perhaps this was because he spent so much time in a laboratory, being cut open, stabbed, and tested. He hardly felt like a person. Not only that, but when he'd joined SOLDIER, it had become clear to him and those around him that his strength was not natural. There was something off about him.

But that woman, Claire, the daughter of a weapon smith, was different. Sephiroth wanted to relate to her; he wanted to be able to understand the world through her eyes. And she wanted the same from him. Watching him from afar, she had longed to learn of his life and what colors painted reality when you were powerful military man.

So one night, after an assignment, he took her home.

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They stood in the shadows of the young man's Midgar condo, the girl in his arms, pressed against him as though the world would end if she let go. Romance was floating through her mind, but she didn't completely understand real-life love. She didn't know what could come of this, but Claire dreamed anyway, and imagined only the best results.

Sephiroth held her there, but couldn't look at her. How many women had been in this position before that he'd ruined? Too many, his memory reminded him. His mind didn't work the way he wanted it to, and as a result, he was too unstable to have a successful relationship, or anything that remotely resembled one.

That was as far as things would go that night; it's as far as the SOLDIER would let it. This pristine young woman wasn't like the corrupt, sex-driven others that had been in her place before. He couldn't bring himself to allow harm to come to her—harm that he knew would come by his own hands if he wasn't careful. Claire, through all this, was too afraid or relieved to say anything.

They tarried like that for at least an hour, leaning against the wall and holding on to one another. Few words were exchanged that night, but somehow in the darkness, there was a mutual understanding of the possibilities. Maybe next time, Sephiroth had told her; maybe next time they could be more intimate, like in the sappy novels she liked to read. But the world wasn't a romance novel; it was a lot darker. The world in Sephiroth's novel was hell.

Keeping goodbyes short, he took the girl back home to her father, where she belonged. Where she was safe. Another night, he'd give in and take her to the condominium again, but it'd have to wait until he could convince himself it wasn't a bad idea.