CHAPTER WARNINGS: Mild gore, referenced child abuse
Angeal could feel the rage emanating from the man next to him, such an unusual display of emotion he couldn't help but be distracted from his own shock. Sephiroth was almost shaking. He caught sight of the blue glowing from his clenched fists, and barely got out of the way before a streak of energy was sent flying at the wall, cutting cleanly through the metal. There was a sound of anguish, like nothing Angeal had ever heard from him, before Sephiroth drove his fist into it with such force it nearly tore through as well. It was frightening.
He somehow managed to find his voice. "Stop. Sephiroth, stop."
Sephiroth turned on him, face distorted with hatred. "Get out."
"No," he said, standing his ground. "I don't understand. Who was that man? Why would he…"
Angeal looked away. He felt sick. He had never really known Vincent as anything other than a student, but had spent enough time with him to know he was benevolent. Good. He had been Zack's friend. Now every lingering memory he had of that promising young SOLDIER—his smile when he performed well during training, his quiet laugh when he was with Zack—was being torn from him, replaced with the heart-rending image of a broken, battered young man. What that man had been doing to him, was doing to him, filled Angeal with a fury of his own.
He wanted to ask Sephiroth so many questions, force the obstinate man to answer, but there was one thing in particular he desperately needed denied. One thing that had to be a lie. He felt foolish even considering it. Still, his voice came out deadly serious.
"Sephiroth, is what he said about you and Vincent true."
The question seemed to sober Sephiroth. The magic pulsing from his hands dimmed and then dissipated, and the raw rage in his eyes faltered. Something unreadable passed over his face. And the abrupt stillness stretched on with no answer.
"Sephiroth," Angeal repeated, stomach turning. "Tell me it isn't true."
Sephiroth's silence answered for him, as did his eyes, which, for the first time in their long friendship, wouldn't meet his own.
"Gods." Angeal couldn't keep the horror from his voice. "How could you? He was your student. He's just a boy." He turned away, and then turned back, unable to even pace in his desperation. "Please. Please tell me you didn't…"
Sephiroth's head snapped up. "I did not force myself on him," he hissed.
It was of little comfort to Angeal, still reeling in disbelief over what his friend had done. "When did this happen? For how long did it go on?" Disgust threatened to poison his words. "What were you thinking? You were his mentor, his general. He trusted you. How could you have done this?"
Angeal was stunned, even as he began to realize how little he actually knew about this aspect of Sephiroth's life. It was almost a shock he even had sex, let alone with an underage Third. Let alone with Vincent. Angeal wanted to be furious with him. He wanted to take him by the collar and shake him until he could somehow justify his reprehensible behaviour. Had Vincent…
Had Vincent even been the first?
Sephiroth's walls were back in place, the only evidence of his prior outburst the damage to the room. His outward indifference incensed Angeal.
"Don't you dare shut me out," he threatened. "Not this time."
Sephiroth's voice was emotionless, void. "What would you have me say, Angeal."
That he hadn't done it. That it was a filthy, disgraceful lie from the lips of a monster. That even the thought of laying his hands on his fifteen-year-old student repulsed him as much as it repulsed Angeal. That this man Angeal called friend couldn't possibly be this dishonourable.
He deflected the question. "Who was that man?" he asked coldly, his anger warping his speech.
The door burst open before Sephiroth could answer.
It was Gast. He looked alarmed, somewhat red in the face and out of breath. He stared briefly at the smouldering remains of what used to be a part of the wall, and then at the two Firsts. Sephiroth had turned his back to him, and something about his countenance made Angeal tense.
"What on Gaia happened?"
Angeal hurriedly composed himself, running one hand roughly over his face. He could hear Zack's muffled crying through the open door, and was grateful Genesis had sense enough to keep him away for now, even considering his friend's insensitive manner. He needed time… didn't know how he could possibly find the words to tell him.
Angeal gestured for Gast to close the door behind him. "We need to talk."
"What's the matter?"
"Who has the contact information for this system?"
Gast appeared taken aback by the question. "No one living I'm aware of. It barely even works. Why?"
Angeal looked at Sephiroth for permission to speak of what they'd seen, but Sephiroth wouldn't meet his eyes, staring down Gast with such intensity Angeal wondered if he meant to harm him.
"We just received a transmission from a man who claims to know Sephiroth, who knew he was here. He didn't give his name, and his face was mostly obscured from the shot, but he looked to be in his late forties, early fifties maybe. Light blonde hair, blue eyes, tanned skin. He was wearing a grey, pinstriped suit, and—"
Angeal stopped. Gast had turned white as a sheet, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. He looked terrified.
Sephiroth finally spoke, approaching him slowly, as if with malicious intent. His pupils were almost slits.
"Did you know he was alive?"
Gast shrank under the murderous gaze of the former general. "No… No! How—how would I? I've heard nothing since I…"
"Since you left," Sephiroth finished. He smiled, and it was enough to make Angeal's blood run cold. "He was still there for some time after you left."
"He… had someone with him," Angeal interrupted, genuinely concerned Sephiroth might actually kill the old man. "Someone we all knew."
Relief couldn't quite overcome the fear and concern on Gast's face. "Who? And what do you mean by… with him."
"Unwillingly," Angeal responded, eyes flicking to Sephiroth. "And his name is Vincent Valentine. SOLDIER Third Class. Sephiroth was his mentor."
"Grimoire's son?" Gast looked shocked, devastated even. "Why? How?"
Angeal frowned. "Grimoire?"
"Grimoire Valentine," Sephiroth said. "Vincent's father, and a colleague of Gast apparently. He died some time ago."
It should have been a perfectly innocuous statement. After all, Angeal knew almost everything about Zack's family. But under the present circumstances Sephiroth's knowledge seemed little more than an unwelcome reminder that he had been intimate with his far-too-young student. Angeal wanted to confront him again, but would not do so with Gast present.
"I can only assume it was done to spite me." Sephiroth's voice was laced with poison. "As for how, I would not presume to know."
There was silence for a moment, and then he spoke again. "Or perhaps it was done simply for the sport of it."
"Sephiroth," Angeal said. "You need to tell me what's going on. Who is he?"
Sephiroth was unexpectedly frank. "He goes by Jade, or at least he did, when I knew him. He was hired to tutor me in combat when I was seven years old. The last I saw of him was shortly before I was sent to Wutai at twelve." He smiled again, and this time it was empty. "He is not a nice man."
Gast had started to cry quietly, and as Angeal looked from one man to the other, realization hit him like a freight train. Quite the little fighter, isn't he? Takes after his mentor."
"Seph," he whispered.
Sephiroth raised his palm. "Don't, Angeal."
Angeal felt something like sorrow wash over him.
Sephiroth turned to Gast, his expression almost wistful. "It is truly astounding," he said. "After all this time, he has still managed to find a way to hurt me."
Angeal wanted desperately to say something, anything to Sephiroth, but the man had already brushed past him, stopping only to look at Gast over his shoulder.
"Tell him what you will."
Sephiroth. The name felt strange on Vincent's tongue. It was like… it was like the taste of coffee when expecting tea. Not bitter, not really. Just a small shock, achingly familiar and yet foreign, as if he'd never said it before.
Jade hadn't removed him from his lap. His awful hands were all over Vincent's body, still pushing underneath the front of his shirt, crawling up his back. It was painful—Vincent was sure several of his ribs were at least cracked again—but he made no attempt to resist him. Jade did not like to be told he couldn't touch what belonged to him.
Cruel men, be it by allure, manipulation, or force, always got what they wanted.
"Look at me."
Vincent obeyed, no longer faltering under those cold, blue eyes. It wasn't as if he hadn't been forced to look up into them time and again underneath him, for the past…
For the past what? Month? Year? Time was a lost concept to him. His prison had no windows, no sunrises or sunsets. Just room after room of stark white, harshly lit and penetrating. It burned Vincent's Mako-sensitive eyes. It was inescapable, could not be blocked out by his eyelids or his hands or the coarse sheets he buried his face in. More than once, when Jade had him shackled to the bed, trapped on his back with straps around his neck and forehead to keep his face fixed on the ceiling, Vincent had thought he would rather stare into the sun until he was struck blind.
Please, please turn out the lights.
And what will you give me in exchange for my kindness?
Anything.
Anything?
Jade did occasionally relent, but only when Vincent was perfectly obedient. Feigning consent, piteously attempting to convince Jade he wanted him… Vincent was so desperate for that darkness he sometimes believed he did want him. He was being conditioned, and he knew it, but what else could he do? He was terrified of losing his mind. The only thing left that anchored him to the living world, that wasn't false and artificial and white, was that loathsome, unwanted flesh.
Vincent knew Jade left sometimes, although he was never sure how frequently or for how long. He knew Jade came back, to rape him, to play. He had tried to keep track of it all. The absences, and the violations. But everything had blurred together.
Jade's fingers dug into his waist, and Vincent's couldn't quite stifle his whimper.
"Never make me repeat myself again."
Vincent tried to answer, but his dry throat was thick and sore. He couldn't force the words past his cracked lips. He settled for nodding, hoping his silence wouldn't anger Jade and earn him another beating. He wasn't sure he could survive another so soon after the last.
Maybe being beaten to death wouldn't be so terrible.
His acquiescence seemed to appease Jade. He pulled Vincent closer, mouthed at the side of his jaw just below his ear. Vincent shuddered.
"Did you enjoy our little chat with your mentor?"
Vincent nodded again. He wondered if they had actually been talking to Sephiroth, or if it had all been a ruse, just another game designed to fuck with his head. He wanted it to be. The thought of Sephiroth seeing him like this was devastating. The thought of Jade anywhere near the man whose humanity he had destroyed even more so. Sephiroth had saved him so many times, had done more than enough for him… had done more than enough to him.
It was enough, enough now.
Jade looked amused. "A shame I couldn't see his face… I would have liked that. I wonder if he just stood there with that precious neutral mask, or if the anger seeped into his eyes. He was never as good at hiding that as he thought he was. You're familiar enough with his temper."
Those strong fingers had loosened their grip on his side, just running over the sensitive skin there. "Anger is the best you're going to get from him. There is nothing left in him that can feel sorrow. Not for anyone, and certainly not for you." He wrapped his hand loosely around Vincent's throat. "If I had choked the life out of you and left him your body, all he would have felt was a moment of regret over having wasted so much time." His smile broadened. "As it is… he'll just be angry that he lost. That he has always, and will always, lose."
Vincent didn't look away. He was too tired to cry, and so tired of crying, and it was far from the cruelest thing Jade had ever said to him. He just kept telling himself that the entire conversation hadn't been real.
"Poor rabbit," Jade murmured, releasing Vincent's neck to walk his fingers up it. "Falling in love with such a hateful man. Better to follow his example, and fall in love with me instead."
He toyed with a piece of Vincent's hair, looking into red eyes, dissecting.
"He's never going to come for you, Vincent."
Vincent swallowed, tried again to speak. "I know."
I know.
Jade pushed him back down onto the couch, body heavy and suffocating on top of him. He bent to kiss him, but Vincent pressed one hand gingerly against his chest.
"Wait."
He forced his entire body to relax, hoping Jade wouldn't take the interruption as resistance. It seemed to work.
"What is it, rabbit?"
"Water. Please."
"You know how to ask."
Vincent let out a trembling breath. The back of Jade's hand was smoothing over his cheek, deceptively gentle. He remembered Sephiroth doing the same, wiping away his tears the night Vincent had learned of his father's murder. He remembered the one time Sephiroth had held him, the coolness of the leather and the warmth of his body. He remembered Sephiroth there beside him, in Wutai, calling him Vincent for the first time.
He had wanted so much to live.
Vincent placed his hands on either side of Jade's face, and pressed their lips together.
Sephiroth had levelled a sizable patch of forest about two kilometers north of the house, and it had done nothing to ease his wrath. Nearly two decades of poison had spilled out of him like vomit, bitter and violent. How long had he dreamt of what he would do if he found Jade alive? How long had he convinced himself he'd become too strong to even care?
How could he have been so blind, to think he could ever escape his past.
The snarl of the last bandersnatch left alive barely distracted him from his thoughts. The rest of the pack lay scattered around them, beheaded or bisected or eviscerated. And still the doomed beast faced him. Mindless until the very end. It met the same fate as all the others. Masamune was thrust into its stinking mouth when it pounced, and as soon as the sword emerged through its belly, Sephiroth pulled it back, slitting the creature open from abdomen to jaw. It was thrown several meters away, insides spilling over the ground until a gruesome path was formed between Sephiroth and the body.
He approached his kill, paying no mind to the mess, the crunch of the snow turning to a squish as blood seeped out from under his boots. One disgusting sole was placed on the beast's head, and pressed down until the skull cracked, squelching and distorting what was left of the face. Sharp, canine teeth pierced through the split tongue only somewhat attached to its bloodied mouth. It was foul, and it was perfect.
But it wasn't enough. Hadn't been for months. Sephiroth had long grown tired of wild game, barely enough to keep him satiated through a year of boredom, frustration, and helplessness. He wanted human bone under his boot, and he wanted it to be Jade's.
He had been blindsided by it. By all of it. What he thought had meant nothing to him anymore was now a gaping wound. It made him burn with humiliation, even as it pumped out pulse after pulse of ice from his core down through his limbs. In a single, ruthless strike, Jade had cracked the walls Sephiroth had spent his entire life reinforcing. And now it all threatened to crumble away, exposing that hurt little boy from so long ago.
He had been foolish to think he could ever be free of Jade, in whatever form. He was always there, making Sephiroth weak and heartless at the same time, breaking him over and over again in his dreams. The man had spent years burning himself into Sephiroth, and when he was done he'd made a perfect killer. A monster.
But that first taste of freedom, of absolute control on the battlefields of Wutai, had changed Sephiroth. Numbed him to everything that had come before. He'd never gone back to his childhood labs after that, and as the years passed without so much as a whisper of Jade, so had any semblance of power he'd once had over him.
Hojo's labs. Sephiroth felt stupid, sick. Hojo maintaining a friendship with Jade was as disgusting as it was obvious. And Sephiroth had been willingly ignorant of the possibility, and far too careless in his purging of the labs following Hojo's death. Jade would have seen it all, if he didn't just torture the information out of Renault. He would have seen Sephiroth murder Hojo for a boy. He would have seen Chaos.
He might have made an educated guess regarding the nature of Sephiroth's relationship with Vincent based on all that—Sephiroth's vengeance, and his caring—or forced the truth out of Vincent post-abduction, but something told him things had gone much further than that. It was nauseating, to think the man had been dogging their every step, watching them together. Watching Vincent.
Had it all been calculated? Or had Jade simply sauntered into an opportunity to hurt him, and taken it? Or had he seen Vincent, the boy who was so much like Sephiroth and so different, and wanted him for himself. Just as Sephiroth had.
He had told himself once that his selfish lust, his casual entitlement, would cost Vincent so much more than it ever could him. But he could never have imagined it would cost him this much.
Sephiroth had failed Vincent in every way, from the very beginning. He had never protected him as he should have, as a SOLDIER or a student or whatever they had been. It was his fault. All of it. Letting a Third be bullied and abused by an incompetent teacher, not personally overseeing the dispatching of troupes to war-torn Wutai… He'd put him in the path of Genesis' ire. Delivered him, giftwrapped, onto Hojo's operating table. Been so stupid as to be compromised by a wretched little insect, forcing him to splice Vincent with a demonic entity just to keep his twisted promise.
And then, after everything he'd been put through, Sephiroth had used him. Selfishly and cruelly, feeding on his loneliness and affections. Convincing himself he was doing it for Vincent's sake. For all his desire to preserve that precious vulnerability in him—let someone else destroy it, let them die trying—it was Sephiroth himself who had done the most damage, with manipulation and callous remarks, at one point even physical violence. It haunted him now, to think he had ever dared to wrap his hand around that pale neck with the intent to harm.
And now what had Sephiroth condemned him to? To be Jade's plaything until sickness or brutality took him? To be raped and abused until there was nothing left of him that had known good? For all Sephiroth had been put through, he had been—in a warped sort of way—safe. Things had been expected for him. Hojo's concern for his wellbeing might have been nearly non-existent, but he would never have allowed him to be killed, crippled, or even disfigured.
Vincent had no such value. He could be tortured to death, and no one would ever even know. He would die, alone, thinking he meant nothing.
He meant something to Sephiroth, and a year of forced indifference had done nothing to change that. He had never been neutral when it came to Vincent. Not then, when he had pretended he was as disposable as everyone else, and not now. Vincent had been different the moment Sephiroth had lifted him from the wreckage. There was something there, underneath every claim of impossibility. Something Sephiroth would not name.
The wind was bitter, stinging exposed flesh and drying the blood spattered over it. Sephiroth did nothing to shield himself.
He should have let Vincent die in Wutai.
He should have stayed with him and stroked his hair, taken away every bit of his pain until he was at peace. Safe from Jade and Hojo and Chaos. Safe from everything Sephiroth was going to do to him.
Instead he'd guided him into the hands of the two men he hated most.
For all his lies, Jade had likely been telling the truth—Vincent had been with him for months. Many months. It wasn't just the rail-thin body and the longer hair and the overwhelming evidence of abuse. It was the exhaustion. He might have been drugged, but there was so little fight left in him, something Vincent had never lacked. Those hollow eyes spoke of nothing but resignation, barely even possessing the capacity for sorrow. And when he'd spoken it had been a genuine farewell. He truly believed no one was coming for him.
What had Sephiroth done to make him think any different.
Maybe that was why Jade had waited so long to do it, so Sephiroth could see just how broken Vincent was. To rub as much salt into the wound as possible. Sephiroth wondered how grateful he should be Jade didn't just rape Vincent in front of him, and slit his throat before it was over.
Maybe his desire for Vincent was genuine, and he had no plans of disposing of him just yet. Maybe the primary purpose of the call was to warn them.
Sephiroth hadn't been giving the warning much thought, whether it was the general absurdity of the claim or his focus on Vincent. Even now he was loath to waste time on it. The man was as much a manipulative liar as he was a killer, and even if there were truth to it… it would take a colossal effort to depose Shinra, and what was another middling war to Sephiroth anyway. Let it happen. Let them burn.
He had already made his decision.
He was going to get Vincent, his Vincent, back.
"I only met him once," Gast said, wiping the tears from his glasses with a handkerchief. "When he was very small. He was so much like his father… bright, and kind. It grieved me to learn of Grimoire's death. I wondered more than once what became of his son. I never imagined he would end up in SOLDIER, of all things, or that he would come to know Sephiroth, of all people…"
They hadn't spoken about Sephiroth's past for long, Angeal choosing instead to recount the contents of the transmission. It felt wrong, too much like he was betraying him. What he'd learned in that dusty, cramped room was not something he should ever have known. Not without consent, and maybe not even then. He wouldn't tell Zack, or Genesis, although the latter would be more difficult to placate.
He shared in Sephiroth's resentment towards Gast, in his own way. To abandon a child to that degree of abuse seemed unfathomable. How could Gast stand there and claim to have cared about him? How could he ever justify having done it? But all it had taken was one look at him to know that something was very, very wrong. Angeal had never seen fear like that, not even at the end of his sword. As the conversation went on, it became more and more clear there was nothing that could have been done. This man, this Jade, was a tyrant. Sadistic, Gast had said, impossibly intelligent and strong. Had Gast attempted to take Sephiroth, gone against him and Hojo in any way, he would be dead, and Sephiroth would have paid the price.
And now he had Vincent. And talking about that felt just as wrong.
"You knew Jade…" Angeal began, but Gast interrupted him.
"I didn't know him. No one can know a man like him, and I certainly didn't try to." He attempted to put his glasses back on, but they slipped down his nose, so he went back to rubbing at them, warping the wire with his tense fingers. "I wasn't involved in that aspect of Sephiroth's upbringing. Barely involved with any of it by then. He…" Gast cleared his throat a few times, which did nothing to stop it from wavering. "He wouldn't confide in me anymore. Lost all interest in books and learning. That man had him from day one, long before the violence, and I didn't exactly take tea with him and Hojo to find out what I was missing."
"But you knew he was abusing Sephiroth."
Gast huffed, and it was a strangled, weary sound. "You would have been blind not to, when he came out of every session smelling of sweat and—" He cut himself off. Forced some measure of composure, even though his voice continued to tremble. "And every time he left he took a little more of Sephiroth with him."
Angeal let out a heavy breath, looking at the blank screen. "Do you think he took Vincent to hurt him?"
"I don't know," Gast replied honestly. "It certainly wouldn't be beyond him, but… something about what you've told me doesn't feel right."
"How so?"
"His whole way of going about it seems strange. I don't know him, but… if it were just to hurt Sephiroth, and your guess of when Vincent was taken is true… I wonder why he took so long to do it, or why he didn't just take it to the extreme and murder him in front of you. Or why he didn't do something similar with you and Genesis a long time ago. I don't mean to insult you, Angeal, but I'm not at all confident you would come out the victor in one-on-one combat with him. And you've been Sephiroth's closest friend for over a decade."
Angeal kept his mouth shut about the difference between him and Vincent.
"If it were… lust," Gast continued, "or simple curiosity, I can't help but feel as if it would be over and done with by now. Jade hasn't bothered with Sephiroth since before the war, as far as I know. Why now?"
Angeal considered what had been said. "The mentorship was not well-known, and it was short. There were things he knew that were… confidential, between Sephiroth and Vincent. And he knows where we are now, even with everything we've done to hide it." He looked down at Gast, serious. "To me, that sounds like something very close to stalking."
"Yes," Gast said, sorrow creeping over every line of his aged face. "Yes, you're right. And it's likely his connections with Shinra ran much deeper than Hojo. Still… I can't shake the feeling there is more to this than just Sephiroth."
"You don't think it's possible his intent was always to hurt him, and Vincent just turned out to be more convenient than Genesis and I were in the past? And that he… liked him enough to take his time?"
"Maybe." Gast exhaled, and his entire body seemed to sag. "Maybe… Or maybe speculating on his motives is an exercise in futility, and Sephiroth was right that it was nothing more than sport. Jade was never a man who needed a reason." He tried to put his glasses on again, finally giving up. "There was really nothing he said that implied an exchange? Or even entrapment?"
Angeal shook his head. "He just went on about how much he wanted to keep him. Gave us nothing that even remotely resembled a hint towards some sort of action. Except…"
"What is it?"
"Before he ended the transmission, he said something about a shift in power, on a massive scale. An attack that goes beyond Shinra. Something that would change the world." Angeal frowned. "He told Sephiroth to be careful. Any speculation on that?"
"None at all," Gast said, although his voice came out confused and worried. "Only that psychopaths are imaginative and effective liars. Maybe it was a ploy to appear nonchalant about Vincent. Or to upset Sephiroth's focus on you two."
"Hm."
"Better to discuss it when he gets back. That, and leaving this place as soon as possible."
Angeal swallowed down the lump threatening to rise up his throat. "Gast," he said, already knowing what the answer would be. "Is there anything we can do?
Gast met his eyes, looking every bit the broken, old man he was, worn down from years of defeat.
"No," he said at last. "There is nothing you could offer him, if Vincent is what he wants, and nothing you can do he hasn't already thought of. I can't see him letting anyone go, when death is the preferred option. All we can do now is pray it ends quickly, and hope he finds peace with his father."
Angeal put his head in his hands. He wondered if Vincent's death would take the last bit of Sephiroth's humanity with it.
"I am truly sorry," Gast said, barely above a whisper, "for your loss."
Logically, Angeal knew they couldn't possibly have accounted for this. But guilt weighed heavily on his soul. Guilt, and anger. "It was wrong to leave him behind, knowing what we did about Shinra. He wasn't just another SOLDIER. Not to me, or Zack, or…" He looked at the dent Sephiroth's fist had made in the wall. "We failed him. Sephiroth failed him."
Gast seemed surprised by the contempt that came with the name. "Angeal… this is no one's fault but—"
He visibly jumped when the door slammed open. Zack strode into the room, directly followed by a furious-looking Genesis with a bloodied lip. In any other circumstance, Angeal might have been impressed he'd actually managed to land a hit on him.
Zack's voice was hoarse, more desperate than demanding. "What happened? Where's Sephiroth?"
"I tried to stop him," Genesis spat, rubbing at his jaw. "You might as well just tell us."
Angeal couldn't stand the way Zack was looking at him. There was despair there, but also a sort of naïve hopefulness that made his heart sink. For the first time since he'd taken him under his wing, Angeal wished he could lie to him. After everything Zack had been put through… but he'd seen the gauntlet. What other interpretation was there.
"Sit down, Zack."
"No," he said, defiant in spite of the tears still pooling in his eyes. "Not until you tell me what's going on."
"There are things you are not entitled to," Angeal said seriously. "And the things you are will hurt you. We should speak alone."
Zack let out a frustrated noise from deep inside his chest. "No. Stop stalling. Just tell me."
Genesis had blocked the door, clearly unwilling to be kept in the dark any longer, and Angeal didn't have the energy to deny them both.
"Now is not the time for insensitivity," he said to Genesis. "Whatever you feel, or don't feel, keep it to yourself."
He waited for Genesis to give a curt nod, and then turned back to Zack. "The man you saw trained Sephiroth in combat before he joined SOLDIER, and as far as I know has not been a part of his life since. None of us know why or how this call was made." A half-lie, but anything more was imprudent. "Sephiroth and I are as shocked and confused as you will be, but…" He put his hand on Zack's shoulder, out of concern as much as to stop him from doing anything rash. "I'm so sorry, Zack. He has Vincent."
Zack stared at him, and Angeal felt as he began to tremble. "What do you… what do you mean he has him?"
"I mean Vincent is not there willingly."
Zack looked as if Angeal had betrayed him. "No. No. Why would… He can't have him. He can't." He backed away from Angeal, devastation truly setting in. "He's lying."
"I saw him, Zack."
"No, you didn't." Zack was starting to sound frantic, looking around the room helplessly. "Because that doesn't make any sense. Why would anyone… Vincent would never do anything for someone to—"
"I don't think this is about Vincent."
Angeal reached for him again, but Zack pushed his hand away. "Don't touch—then who the hell is it about? Sephiroth? What did Sephiroth do to him to make him take Vincent? He was just his student."
Again, Angeal kept his mouth shut. "I don't know."
Zack was almost angry now, caught between denial and panic. "But… he has to want something, right? Why would he just… randomly contact Sephiroth if he doesn't want something? We give him what he wants and he lets Vincent go."
"He doesn't want anything, Zack."
Zack stopped moving. "What?"
"He didn't offer anything, or ask for anything in return."
A few tears finally escaped Zack's watery eyes. "Why then," he whispered. "Why? What good is Vincent to him?"
Angeal couldn't bring himself to speak, and made the mistake of looking away. He paid dearly for it.
"What is he doing to him."
"No. Don't do this to yourself."
Zack thrust a lamp against the wall in an uncharacteristic fit of violence, shattering it. "What is he doing to him?" he screamed, approaching Angeal so rapidly that had he been a stranger, Angeal might have stepped back.
He closed the distance instead, pulling Zack into a rough embrace, one strong arm around his shoulders. He pushed his other hand through spiky, black hair, and held him close. Zack sobbed into his neck, hands in fists against his chest.
"It's not your fault. It's not. There's nothing you could have done."
Zack shook his head. "We left him. We left him behind knowing what Shinra is. We didn't even tell him we were leaving. We left him all alone and now he's…"
He didn't finish. Angeal held him a little tighter.
"What now," Genesis asked. There was a strange quality to his deadpan tone, and flickers of… something in his eyes.
"We wait for Sephiroth to get back," Angeal said. "And then we relocate. No one should have known we were here."
Genesis furrowed his brow. "Is he a threat to us?"
"Yes." The conversation had taken a further toll on Gast, and he looked as if he might give up and die at any moment. "Nothing about him is normal. I wouldn't risk the assumption that age has changed that."
"Even if it had," Angeal added, "he has information that can be used against us. It's not a chance I'm willing to take."
Zack pulled out of his arms. "But… what about Vincent?"
"Zack…"
"Stop fucking saying my name like that," he spat out. "We're not leaving him again."
"There's nothing that can be done," Gast said quietly. "Sephiroth knows it as well as I do. I would do anything to change it if I could." He covered his eyes, turning away. "Grimoire's son deserved so much better."
"Bullshit," Zack growled. "Bullshit. Sephiroth wouldn't just…" His words tapered off, and then he sank into a crouch. He put his head in his arms, and wept.
Angeal knelt beside him, putting a hand on his back. Zack's lack of a reaction was somehow even worse than his anger.
Genesis just stood in the doorway, arms crossed and head down. "What state is Sephiroth going to be in when he gets back."
The sound of a door opening violently enough to strike the wall with a resounding bang answered the question well enough. Genesis backed into the room, and Sephiroth entered shortly thereafter, Masamune dripping blood.
"I'm going to find them," he said, and there was no room in his words for dissent. "I'm going to find them, I'm going to kill him, and I'm going to take Vincent back."
But he was never given the chance. Not even a week later, the world fell apart. Jade had been telling the truth.
The Weapons were waking up.
