Excrucior

♣

Everyone has a skeleton
And a closet to keep it in
And you're mine

(A. DiFranco)

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♠ Flashback ♠
(5 years before meteor)

Fifteen years old, with a cowboy hat on my head. I've visited Mt Nibel so many times, and I really know what I'm talking about, while I explain to these people this and that about the environment.
But hell, I'm so uncomfortable. I wish my father was here.
God.. I wish Cloud was here. Why isn't he here? He should be here. He should have been here, because he promised, and I hoped.. - I thought - maybe I was just daydreaming. So all this seems so useless.. If he's not here.

These people are so unnatural.
Their eyes are unnatural - that black haired soldier - he keeps winking at me. I don't know if he's kidding or what - he looks okay - he looks kind - but I'm hating all of this.

I'm embarrassed.
I can pretend I don't know why, but oh- I know. I just know, and it's so unnerving.

Him. Him, heaven's sake. Its presence. Him, its existence even. He.. frightens me. No. He confuses me. He makes me feel dumb. Because he's not ordinary. He's so far from being ordinary, it's scary. I never sense anything, I'm not really the mystical type. But the things I sense about him - he's mind blowing, it's almost painful.

Half an hour has passed, and I realise I can't keep my eyes off him.
The great Sephiroth.

I wish I could touch him. He's there, and I want to touch him. But I guess he's untouchable. He doesn't even see me. I wish he could see me. But it couldn't be any other way, anyway. He's The General.
No, he's not normal. Absolutely not.

I want to touch him - now.

♠ ♠

♣

Strange things sometimes happen. But going mad so suddenly, without any apparent reason - no, that shouldn't be happening. I say it shouldn't - because it is happening.
In this moment, I wish all of this was a bad dream. I'm still hoping it is a dream, even if it feels completely real - everything's normal - except one thing.

Hot. It's hot. And summer hasn't begun yet. I will die this year, if it remains so hot.
I'm standing on the dusty porch of the bar, the red tiles boiling under the sun, a broom in my hand. The wind of last night has brought the sand everywhere. My shirt is glued to my back from the sweat, and, if I had a pair of scissors right here right now, I would probably cut my long hair. Hot.

And there is a problem.
This time it's even stranger than before. Because everything's so still - even I'm still. I'm still even if the problem's right there - and he- it- he's looking at me. I can look away, in a childish impulse, hoping that when I turn back the problem will have disappeared - isn't it stupid? Oh yes - it is stupid.
I look intensively at the pile of dust at my feet - and then I look there again.

Gods sake - I'm mad.

He's sitting quietly on the bench, relaxing under the shadow of a vivid green tree, there - on the other side of the street. Right there - either that or I'm mad. And His clothes are so normal - His shirt is so normal - everything is so normal, stunningly normal. And it makes me feel that I'm the one who's not normal. But He's not normal - He can't be normal. His hair is not normal - His eyes. Silver and emerald over the shadow of the tree - God. All still. But He can't be associated with calmness - that's a paradox - that's - no.

Unnatural.

And it's hot - I don't think the sun should still exist in this dying world. The world is dying - why should one lie about it? Why should we have problems, if the world is dying - why can't I just let go of it - why the hell?
Why am I so stubborn - so mad and obstinate? Is it possible that I still can't forget it all - live in peace - or die in peace, if you prefer?

I know that if I say what I want to say now I will feel so helplessly stupid - but the word is strangling me, it's tightening my throat - I will suffocate if I don't say it. My brains refused to admit that I will say it - my body knows I will - and I'm trapped.

"Sephiroth..?"

.
.

I ask. And my voice sounds so absurd, in the silence that surrounds me.

And the moment I say it, the world turns upside down. It's like - I can see myself from the outside - in a deserted street, wiping the sweat from my forehead - and dealing with my madness.

Yes, Tifa. Deal with your stupidity. Deal with your madness. Maybe you will discover that our real ego might be the most frightening thing we could ever meet.

My hand let the broomstick fall.
And I still don't get what the hell is happening.

But yes - I'm scared.

♣

♠ Flashback ♠
(5 years before meteor)

Brilliant green, so bright - fluorescent aqua. When I look at the Mako fountain, here, I forget about all the rest. Mako and materia can be so enticing. The stains on the surrounding rocks reflect the sun like mirrors - this corner of Mt Nibel is exceptional.
But I must remember I'm not here for my own pleasure - I'm a guide. I have things to say - places to show - and I should not be wasting time this way. I should hurry - and -

I stupidly stumble while stepping back from the Mako fountain. It's nothing serious, really, and I instantly regain my balance. But I see my hair flowing around far too much – black, shiny hair, almost reflecting the emerald of the Mako.
My cowboy hat has fallen to the ground - that's why.
I'm still recovering from my sudden instability, my eyes scanning the ground to look for the hat, my head bent down, when someone puts it back on my head.

The gesture is so light and quick that it catches me totally unprepared .

I raise my head, and meet His eyes - no. One can't meet his eyes. It's impossible - they're pure mystery - pure chaos - but they're completely neuter and unreadable at the same time. It's not only because they're Mako eyes - infamous Mako eyes - it's not that simple. It is not simple. He's not simple.

And I feel completely naked. I would be less ashamed if I were naked. This is so breathtaking. Crush, pure crush - I'm struck. And it's breathtaking - no. Heartbreaking. Scary. It's terrible. And it's so intense.

He has done nothing.
Nothing more than putting my hat back on my head - he hasn't even touched me. I would have been dead if he had touched me. God. He has done nothing.

But my cheeks are burning, and I wish I could disappear. Did I ever wish he would notice me? Hell, I take it back . I don't want to be noticed. He can't notice you without hurting you - and this is so - God. I'm paralyzed.

The Great Sephiroth has just picked my hat up - he has picked it up - it is a favour - he had done me a favour. And his eyes - I feel naked. I feel stupid.

Crush.

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Notes: You're all absolutely great! I'm so astonished that there's someone actually enjoying this story! Please keep suggesting me what I could improve, or what you like about this, so that I can do a better work with later chapters.. I'm also trying to make the whole thing a little more comprehensible.. lol.. almost all of you keep telling me it's confusing.. I'm afraid you're right..
Thanks to everyone, especially to my beta!

Swamp-eyes