Story Three Teaser: Weeks after being brought back to life, Sephiroth accepts an unusual task – babysitting Wakka & Lulu's baby.

Story Three: The Need

He couldn't hear his mother anymore. The spot in his head where she'd whispered and planned with him was silent. His thoughts kept bouncing around, tripping over her absence, memories of his sterile childhood cropping up with the slightest stimuli.

Hojo was his father. The man with the narrow, face, cheeks hollowed out, nose thin, nostrils too big. Sephiroth could remember asking about his mother, the scene unfolding in his mind in living memory.

Hojo's voice high pitched, nasally voice. "Your mother? Hardly relevant." Him moving away, white lab coat flaring. Even as a child, Sephiroth's hearing was enhanced. He could hear the exhale of air through the scientist's nose, the irritated snort similar to a dual horn preparing to attack.

He figured he'd been about five. Just old enough to start understanding that his wasn't a typical childhood. He was special. "What did she look like?" he'd asked.

Hojo ignored him, but Sephiroth had seized his elbow, staring up at him. "What did my mother look like?"

He'd got one of those 'insolent child' looks. "She had long hair."

Sephiroth remembered touching his short silver hair. "Long?"

"Yes. Now on the table, I need a blood sample."

He'd sprang onto the table, landing lightly on his feet and staring down at Hojo. Staring down felt better than looking up to this man. Sephiroth prayed he'd be tall. "What was she like, Doctor? What was her name?"

Hojo scowled. "Get down."

Sephiroth dropped smoothly, liking the way the scientist flinched before prepping a needle and then inserting it. He didn't answer the questions. Irritated, Sephiroth jerked his arm back, ignoring the feel of the needle ripping from his arm. His mako enhancements would heal the cut in moments. "Her name, Hojo," he'd demanded, voice turning to ice.

Hojo skewered him with a look. "Jenova."

"Jenova? Was she pretty? Is she still alive?"

"Be quiet and hold still or I'll strap you down." Hojo sounded really serious and he'd carried the strap-you-down threat out before. The child fell silent, thinking about his mother. She was probably really beautiful and smart and strong. Maybe she was still alive. Maybe Hojo bossed her around like he bossed him around. Maybe Hojo strapped her to the table and drew blood from her.

His blood ran cold. Unacceptable. He would simply have to be even better than he was now. He was a special child. He would be the strongest. So strong that when he found her, he would be able to give her everything she wanted. And then . . . then she would love him.

And she had. But now she was gone. The room was too loud. He could hear the rustling of the leaves outside, the distant howling of wolves. And then the baby was making weird noises again. It almost sounded like someone choking on blood. Sephiroth gritted his teeth. If the stupid thing had managed to bite its tongue and was now drowning on its own blood, he would not be held responsible. He stalked from the far side of the circular room toward the hand-carved crib.

He peered at the child through narrowed green eyes.

There was a large bubble of spit on the corner of the thing's mouth, and when it saw Sephiroth, it giggled, legs and arms moving vigorously. The spit bubble popped, mingling with a trail of – was that drool?

Sephiroth sighed. Was this really necessary?

Abruptly the baby stopped moving, and tilted its head, listening attentively. Sephiroth snorted, almost impressed in spite of himself. Even though the child was less than a year old, it had heard Genesis stroll through the open doorframe.

Genesis coughed, unnecessarily announcing his presence. "Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess."

"Still quoting that garbage?"

"Old habits die hard, I suppose," Genesis said. "But it is fitting. Who would have thought Angeal's puppy was telling the truth. You're babysitting."

Sephiroth didn't respond.

Genesis crossed the room, draping himself across the corner of the couch. "So you believe that girl?"

Sephiroth didn't respond.

"I never met her before . . . but you –"

"I killed her," Sephiroth cut in. The baby started crying, face turning red, eyes scrunched shut, body going rigid with impotent baby rage. Sephiroth frowned. He recognized the anger, but had no idea what could have possibly caused it. The baby didn't know Aeris. They weren't even from the same world.

"What did you do to it?" Genesis asked, moving closer and peering down at the baby.

Sephiroth shrugged.

For several minutes neither ex-SOLDIER said anything. The baby kept crying. "I think you're supposed to do something to make it stop," Genesis offered. "I don't think your 'good deed' counts if you don't actually care for the child."

That was probably true. Sephiroth reached into the crib, touching the child lightly. It quieted for a second, opening water-filled grey-blue eyes. "Stop crying," Sephiroth commanded. The baby sniffed, wrapping its tiny hands around the Silver General's fingers.

"I guess it just takes the right tone of voice to quiet a baby," Genesis said. "I always assumed it would –"

The baby started shrieking again, little fingers tightening like a mini-vice. This time it wouldn't be silenced no matter what Sephiroth said.

"Maybe you should bring it back to its father," Genesis suggested. "He's down at the beach with his blitzball students."

More than anything Sephiroth wanted to agree. Well, more than almost anything. There were several problems with just returning the brat to his father. First, Zack was at the beach learning how to play blitzball. And if he was there, then Aeris would be there too. He could almost imagine her green eyes, passing judgment on him once again. He didn't need her damn pity.

And more than that, he needed to get back to the Planet. How was he supposed to destroy Cloud and avenge his mother if every couple of days he was thrown from one world to another? The first couple of times it had happened, he hadn't known what to think. He fought Genesis. He tried to kill Aeris. He stabbed the girl from the Turks in the shoulder. He'd raged, cursed, and destroyed everything he could.

Aeris finally managed to get him to listen. She got all of them to listen. Apparently they had been brought back to life conditionally. That was why they were being thrown from world to world. The only way to stabilize it was to stabilize themselves – to become good and balanced.

She was a Cetra. She'd summoned Holy to stop him from calling Meteor. She could speak with the Planet. Part of him said to trust her. She'd know about this kind of thing. Part of him – the more logical part – said that she was just stringing them along, trying to manipulate them into behaving according to what she deemed "right."

The problem was that he couldn't chance it.

That's why he'd agreed to babysit when the child's father realized his wife was off the tropical island during Blitz training camp. So instead of taking the child to the beach, it'd been left in the village with Sephiroth of all people. He still couldn't believe he'd agreed to it.

And he would be damned if he was quitting now. He picked the baby up, careful with its head. Again, it paused in its crying. "Go away, Genesis." He didn't want anyone here if he failed and accidentally killed the thing.

The shorter man laughed. "Right, and let you deal with this on your own?"

Sephiroth moved the baby closer, trying to remember everything he could about babies. Did one shake them to make them quiet? He could remember some of the Angeal fanclub women with children darting around their legs, peeking from behind their mamas at the SOLDIER. Had any of them had a child as young as this one?

He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember being as young as this child. The child in his arms was squirming now, drawing air into its lungs for the next bout of screaming. Sephiroth pulled it closer, cradling it awkwardly.

Genesis started to laugh harder.

Sephiroth longed to run his old friend through with masamune. But fighting while babysitting didn't seem wise. He fixed Genesis with a murderous look instead. "You couldn't do better."

Genesis sobered, brushing his auburn hair away from his face. "Perhaps, old friend, perhaps. But that is the difference, isn't it? I do not have to do better because I'm not the one babysitting."

"No one would entrust you with a child," Sephiroth countered.

"No one should have entrusted you with a child," Genesis said.

Sephiroth agreed, but didn't say anything. The baby continued crying. Genesis strolled out of the tent without a word, his red leather coat snapping smartly in a stiff tropical breeze. Sephiroth followed him out of the hut, suddenly unwilling to be alone with the child.

Outside the village of Besaid was nothing more than a cluster of light wood and colored tarps. Some tents were bigger, some smaller. All of them were open, some with colored drapes covering the doors. The air smelled sweet from the blooming tropical trees, but Sephiroth's sensitive nose could pick up the salt from the not-so-distant beach. Everything was golden yellow and lush green.

It was nothing like Midgar.

It was also deserted. The townspeople had split into two. The majority were down at the beach with Wakka, the child's father. He was having a major blitzball training camp. Children from the village – and neighboring island towns had traveled special for it. The rest had gone on the SS Eternal Calm to some other city for shopping. That where the baby's mother was.

The baby had quieted upon getting outside and was now twisting in Sephiroth's arms, trying to see everything.

Genesis was heading toward a large stone temple in the middle of the town. He opened the doors, peering in.

"Anything interesting?"

"Statues and darkness," Genesis responded. "It doesn't look like the people go this way often."

Sephiroth was silent. The temple didn't have the grandeur of the Temple of the Ancients, but he could almost swear that the ground itself was thrumming with fading power. "These people – this place. It's nothing like Midgar."

"Filthy Midgar," Genesis said. "You're right. This place reminds me of Banora."

"Your hometown?"

"Mmm."

"There were children in your hometown," Sephiroth said.

"Yes, but I didn't babysit them. Childrearing is for mothers." He glanced at Sephiroth, eyes suddenly sparkling. "And speaking of mothers –"

"I will cut you," Sephiroth hissed.

"Did you ever look at Jenova? I mean, really look at her? She was a gooey, ugly, alien bitch. How could you think she was your mother?"

"She is my mother."

Genesis laughed.

Sephiroth switched the baby to his left arm and drew masamune, leveling it at his old friend.

"We all have Jenova cells – Angeal, Zack, me, you. That creature isn't your mother, idiot. She gave you genetic materials for certain, but your mother was most likely some stuck up ShinRa scientist. Or maybe your mother, like mine –" Genesis jerked his rapier free, blocking Sephiroth's first blow. "Maybe your mother was some rotten, traitorous bitch willing to experiment on you not for the science of it but for nothing more than a few gil." He leapt clear of Sephiroth, landing atop the temple.

Sephiroth sprang into the air, slashing rapidly down with his sword. The edge of it cleaved through the stone like it was water. "Do not speak about –"

"I'll say what I want."

"Then you'll die."

"Haven't I already?"

"You'll die again." Sephiroth attacked again, this time throwing a whirlwind of attacks at the redhead. He was just starting to fall into the rhythm of fighting with the baby in his arm, when the thing started making an upset, gurgling noise, and then . . . something warm and liquid hit Sephiroth's hand.

Blood? Had he killed the child?

He looked down. The baby looked up at him, slightly green in the face. White bubbles of curdled milk were at the corner of his mouth and trailed down to Sephiroth's black sleeves and onto his hand. Sephiroth looked back toward Genesis and discovered the man had vanished at the distraction. He looked back at the baby. It started crying again, this time the force of its wails sending white spit into Sephiroth's face.

He wiped his face, bouncing the child a bit. It threw up again. Sephiroth barely managed to get it away from him.

He didn't hear the woman approaching him until she spoke. "Wakka has you babysitting?"

Teeth gritted, Sephiroth turned to face the locale. The woman standing before him was wearing almost all black. Her skirt was full, and the front was an intricate weave of silver buckles and black leather straps. Her bodice as cinched tight at her waist. A ring of fur was around the top of the dress, which was hanging rather low.

Sephiroth met her crimson eyes quickly. "I am the babysitter," he said with as much dignity as he could manage.

The woman covered her mouth, stifling a smile. "Have you ever babysat before?"

He wanted to respond by snapping his wing from wherever it was inside him and then flying away. That would show her for sneaking up on him. Instead he just glowered.

"He needs to be fed."

"Fed?"

"He needs to eat."

Sephiroth opened his mouth and then closed it. No way could he feed a baby. He was going to have to return it to the father. But wait, how was going to feed the baby at the beach? None of the women looked like they were breastfeeding kids. They were all wearing skimpy clothes and giggling at Zack and Genesis and Angeal.

"Come on," the woman said. She strolled across the courtyard. If she noticed the long gouges in the ancient stone she didn't say anything. She entered Wakka's tent and gathered some ingredients from a chest. Within minutes, she had a bottle of warm formula in hand. "You'll have to test it against your skin. If it's too hot, he'll burn his mouth."

Sephiroth took the bottle, following her instructions. He suspected that the milk wasn't too hot. The woman had prepared it skillfully and appeared to know what she was doing. Maybe she was the usual sitter.

"You should clean his mouth," she said, handing him a white cloth. Then sit there and hold him in the crook of your arm. You can give him the bottle. He's old enough to support it himself, but you should make sure it is steady."

He followed her orders. The baby seized the bottle with both hands and his feet and started sucking hungrily. It looked happy again. Sephiroth ignored whatever feeling crept through him. It felt like a stupid, happy feeling that Cloud would probably have.

The woman brushed her black hair away from her face, but it quickly fell back across one eye. "What is your name?"

"Sephiroth."

"Well, Sephiroth, the hardest thing about a child is the need. A baby needs support at all times – physical, such as you're giving now, and emotional too. Love and affection. The more the better. But it must be balanced."

"Or what? The child will try and destroy the Planet?" Sephiroth sneered. "What if the child doesn't have a mother or father?" Or what if his mother was an ancient alien invader and his father a mad scientist more than willing to experiment on a baby before it was born?

She eyed him quietly. "I am an orphan," she said finally. "My father . . . hurt my mother all the time. When Sin attacked our village, we all hid in the Temple of the Fayth. I could see chaos outside, fiends everywhere. The temple guards fired a multiplicity of spells, doing everything possible to divert the destruction. The wind was intense. My mother stood up and walked into that storm, head held high. She never looked back."

"To defend you?" Sephiroth asked.

The woman shook her head. "For herself. She didn't want what she had anymore, I suppose. My father died trying to flee Sin. He had seen the attack coming and instead of coming to warn anyone, he looked out for himself."

"What's the point?"

The woman stood up. "The point is that a child without a mother or a father – or with parents that abandon them – is not going to try and destroy everything. That's an individual choice. Every choice you make is your own."

The baby stopped eating, and glanced at the woman. "Momma," he said, holding his arms toward her.

The woman smiled.

"You're his mother?"

"Yes."

"I was told that you were in Luca."

"I remembered Wakka's training camp. He's never been able to plan things that far in advance. So I came back for Vidina."

"The baby."

She nodded. "Yes."

"How long have you been watching me?"

"I saw your fight with the redhead boy."

"And?"

"That's all."

"You heard what he said about . . . my mother?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"What do you think about that?"

She took the child from his arms. "There are lots of orphans in Spira. Each one must come to terms with the death or abandonment by his or her own parents. I can't tell you how you should act or feel." As she spoke she wrapped Vidina into a bundle of colored cloth and then, once he was secure, she locked eyes with him again. "We're going to the beach. You can come with us." She left without waiting for his reply.

He followed, listening to the clink of her buckles and the gurgling of her baby. He didn't say anything until they were almost at the beach, then he stopped. "I recently lost my mother."

"Do you miss her?"

"No."

"Then don't force yourself to grieve. You don't have to love your mother. That is something she must earn."

"I want to avenge her death. To kill those that hurt her. To fulfill her dreams."

"You can do that if you want," she said. "But here's the real question: what are your dreams? What do you want, Sephiroth? Where would you be? Who would you be if you could be anything?"

He didn't answer. Just silently followed her onto the beach, long hair billowing in the tropical breeze.

Author's Note: Sephiroth is another hard character for me to write. I think he's just shy of insane, but he's also brilliant. I imagine that Jenova has been an influence on his life from very early, and I wanted to show how he's dealing with her absence now. Let me know what you think.