A/N: The final part, after watching Advent Children.

#3: Mother

She'd watched him fall, screaming inside as he dissolved into the lifestream. But she had always known that her son would be strong. He was her only child and he had been feeding off everything she was and knew. And everyone knew that the child with the lion's share of its mother would be most likely to survive.

The planet treated her like an infection and from her child's satisfaction, she knew that the battle between her cells and the planet was wreaking havoc on its populace. All the better, she noted logically. Natives had to be wiped out as soon as possible; it would increase her chances of being able to feed in peace.

The humans, they cried out against their planet, but didn't they realize that all mothers loved their children? It was like… like that time all over again. But no, it wasn't her purpose to remember and to feel. Her child had already used that god-like will to create avatars that would allow them to escape the lifestream.

Still, she couldn't help feeling a little sorry for the planet.

They were fading, though, all her feelings and thoughts as she was gradually and inexorably consumed by her brilliant son. They had been growing close and closer every day since they'd first met. Perhaps it was instinct, but from that moment on, she had been slowly eaten away and incorporated into Sephiroth's will.

They were so close to being a single entity now and no entity could have two personas; soon, she would be gone.

And that was her purpose, to pass her life on to her children. Even if he wasn't totally hers, once the consumption was finished, he could be. Perhaps he would be able to use this planet, as she had used her mother's planet, to find a new star and…

He wasn't like her. He didn't reproduce the same way, did he? Could he? He didn't fully understand everything she had shown him. It was his up-bringing, she supposed, and the humanity remaining in him. Even though he was her child, it would seem that she had failed.

Sure, she would pass on to become a part of him, to be carried on in him, but that was it. He would end and the entire line stretching from mother to child into infinity would finally be broken.

If she had wanted to think about it logically, like how humans (scientists) prided themselves on doing, she should have given up on him and worked to put herself back together. She would have strived to consume and to grow and have a proper litter that they might have a higher chance of survival. But all mothers loved their children, sometimes a little too much.

Her thoughts faded as more of herself was consumed. She perceived a battle, vaguely, from too far away and felt the pain when her child was beaten back again.

Sephiroth was Jenova, Jenova was Sephiroth.

He reached toward her in one last desperate grasp. "It's not over…"

She smiled, because he was her child, because although it was a losing battle, they had not yet lost. "No, it's not," she agreed. Had she been more together, perhaps she would have been bitter or saddened by the imminent death of her line. As it was, her consciousness was draining away as her child consumed the last bits of her.

She tried to give him everything she remembered, everything that wasn't purely in the blood, speaking metaphorically. The horror of space, the feeling of seeing the sky for the first time, the warmth of arms around your body, the touch of fingers as a final comfort, the sorrow at watching a loved-one's death, the cold of a winter that would never end…

If he died, he was still human enough to return to the lifestream after extensive purification.

When he died, he had nowhere to go. Did he end?

She felt her child's will pulsing strongly against her mind.

"Mother, I will…"

Then, she was gone.

They stand together at the windowsill, he behind her this time, hands covering her hands, looking out at the spring that never came.

Tadaima…

Okaeri.

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