Disclaimer: I do not own FF7, CCFF7, or any related stuffs. I just write fanfic. And this series of fanfic. Dun hurt me?

Warning: M for a reason. Dark themes, established yaoi, violence, language, etc, etc. If you haven't liked anything I've warned for in previous chapters, or the things warned for here, I suggest leaving now.

Author's Note: Been a while, huh? Job has been a pain, as has been school. And then, the total loss of inspiration. And, a special note, IF YOU BUG ME ABOUT ONE MORE FUCKING CHAPTER, I WILL DROP THIS FIC ALL TOGETHER. There, much better. Clear?

Music: "Creep" –Radiohead, "Advent: One Winged Angel" –FF7:AC, "The Price of Freedom" –CCFF7, "A Changing Situation" –CCFF7, "Melody of Agony" –CCFF7

FALLEN

Chapter III: Unspoken Truths

The rise and fall of his breaths were gentle, peaceful, a slight rustle of silver hair and moon-pale skin. Sleep hadn't always been this peaceful for Sephiroth. Genesis could remember those nights, when they first started spending them together, and Sephiroth would have nightmares, terrible nightmares, and toss and turn the entire night. It was different now, and Genesis felt a smile curving up on his lips as he watched the rise and fall from the view of Sephiroth's back.

From a distance those long strands of silver hair seemed sacred, like a temple even. Even up close, it had felt like sacrilege to touch them, Genesis wanting to, wanting to feel the long silken strands, so carefully cared for, but it felt wrong. And now he let his bare fingers comb through them, feeling every shining length, and his smile spread a little further.

Blissfully unaware, Sephiroth continued to sleep, sheets only pulled to his middle, torso out to the open air. Genesis was much the same, and thought wistfully of the first time they had slept in the same room. Sephiroth had been unsure about it, but was too spent to argue, and when Genesis woke up, he found himself in the General's arms. It had made him chuckle, though Sephiroth wouldn't talk about it. In fact, Genesis had managed to pull a blush from the General about that.

He continued his combing motions, enjoying the texture, the stillness and peacefulness. There were few pristine moments like this in ShinRa, and he was glad to have this one, even if Sephiroth, the main motivator of it, was asleep through the whole thing.

A groan tumbled from his lips, and Genesis plummeted a few feet, stumbling once he hit the ground. That stagger faltered and he fell one knee, pain shooting up his leg. The glaring sunlight hurt his eyes, Genesis squeezing them shut to mere crescents. His crimson gloved hands grabbed fistfuls of thick, green grass, coiling around them and trembling. His breathing was ragged at best, Genesis trying to ignore how it tore at his lungs with every inhalation and exhalation.

The field stretched on for miles, so lushly green it looked like the grass sprouted straight from an emerald. How far was he from Midgar? Genesis looked up, barely able to make out the form of Chocobo stables to the north, across that field. The flight was long, too long. His wing ached. Genesis let go of the grass, pushing himself to stand. His wing strained against him as he stretched it.

There would be no use in flying right now.

Genesis walked a few feet, shielding his eyes from the bright sun, trying to concentrate on better times. They were there, somewhere.

And times were only going to get better if he could find the Gift of the Goddess. It was just a matter of patience, of holding on a little longer. Soon enough, he would be healed, body returned to the state it should be in, with auburn hair and bright blue eyes and blemishless pale skin. Genesis ran a hand through his silver streaked locks; they were rough, choppy, full of split ends. He had fallen far.

But he had a message to deliver, and nothing would stop him.

It was about time Sephiroth knew who he was.

0 0 0 0 0

The ShinRa Army was practicing on the field, marching in mostly straight lines, head held high and guns cradled tight. Sephiroth watched at the head of the field, the commander of that brigade standing next to him. The General's black gloved hands were clasped behind his back, posture straight and shoulders square, chin angled just slightly up. It made him seem aloof, and most notably above them. Sephiroth was, and the entire world knew it.

There were SOLDIERs interspersed here and there, a new practice since the beginning of the Wutai War. They marched in between lines, most of which with swords strapped across their backs, gleaming, ridge fronted helmets mounted on their heads. Sephiroth watched them more than he watched the infantrymen. Those men of the ShinRa Army were not his concern. However, SOLDIERs were his men, and thus were his personal concern.

It reflected on the General what the SOLDIERs could, or could not do.

Swiveling slowly, Sephiroth walked the full front perimeter of the training field, head turned slightly to the side, so he could still watch them from the corners of his eyes. The SOLDIERs, what few there were left, were all in good form. The Army was a different matter all together. Some of them were perfect, but most were clumsy, weak rejects from the SOLDIER cadet system, spit down into the lower ranks where they would remain until the day they died.

That was how most 'prospective' SOLDIERs ended up. They wanted to be like Sephiroth, yet they would not make the same sacrifices. Sephiroth had given away toys in his youth for swords. He had given away games like tag and hide & go seek for chess and other strategy based exercises. Sephiroth had no friends. He had no lovers. No one would dare approach him and lay a hand on him, enemy and ally alike.

Had it always been this way? Sephiroth paused mid-step, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he inhaled deeply through his nostrils. For a moment, he thought he could smell… cinnamon. Sephiroth's eyes flared open, and his turned sharply on his heel, facing the marching troops. With a cold determination, he strode forward, long gait taking him right up to the infantrymen immediately. That distance bridged, he walked right next to the marching troops, watching them, keeping his sense of scent keen as he kept going.

The front row taken care of, no one smelling of cinnamon, Sephiroth began going between the lines, noticing how there was a ripple of fear in his wake. The infantrymen and SOLDIERs alike were nervous. Lately, Sephiroth had merely been an eye staring at them from a distance, distracted in his thoughts. Now he was right there, a tangible force, on from which anyone with keen senses could feel the sheer power radiating off his strong form. It was no longer awe and reverence Sephiroth saw.

It was fear.

He might have been insulted, had he not been concentrated so fiercely upon making his way through the lines, acting like he was observing them with his eyes when he was actually, discretely, observing them with his nose.

There was no scent of cinnamon amongst his group. Sephiroth walked back to the front of the field, taking up his spot next to the commander again. The man had a wry smile on his lips, and turned his head to speak to the General. "Damn. Had I known it was that easy to correct all of their mistakes, I would have asked you to do that months ago!"

To see what the commander was talking about, Sephiroth let his eyes focus on the drilling troops, noting how all of the lines were arrow straight now, weapons held properly, feet lifted higher in the march. Only the SOLDIERs seemed the same, and they had been doing their part properly to begin with. Nodding, as though that had been his plan, Sephiroth continued to watch in silence, mind elsewhere entirely.

What had brought that spicy, too familiar, smell to his nose?

Or was it just his mind playing tricks on him?

That had been happening a lot lately. Nightmares, which had been a now and then occurrence before, had become an event of every night, often reoccurring multiple times. The nightmares were more gruesome, morbidly violent and dark, and Sephiroth woke in a frightened, cold sweat every time. Sometimes he had to kill Genesis copies again and again, and though he knew they were copies, it hurt every bit as much as Sephiroth was sure it would had he killed the man himself. Other times, he himself was the monster, hunted by ShinRa, Genesis the shining General, the poster boy of SOLDIER.

The other one Sephiroth could not discern if it should be classified as a dream or a nightmare. He was flying in that dream. With one black wing. Like Genesis', only his sprouted from the opposite shoulder, the right side. Sephiroth could not help but thinking if they merged, he and Genesis, they would be one whole, with two glistening ebony wings, able to fly any skies together. It was a romantic notion, but an illogical one as well.

As soon as Sephiroth noticed his own thoughts getting carried away with themselves, he reigned himself back in, watching the routine with the same stoic mask as he always did. It was best if none of them realized their General was distressed. The troops needed no distraction.

0 0 0 0 0

His red gloved fists slammed down on the desk, making a cup, some papers and folders, and the computer screen jump a little. A phone fell with a clatter and bang to the ground. He did not care, leaning forward with a growl, supporting himself on his splayed fingers on that desk. The man in the executive chair across from him leaned back, eyes wide, sweat rolling down his face. Sweat had darkened the chest, under the arms and around the neck of his red suit; President ShinRa never should have worn the color.

"I told you, I know nothing. The scientists don't keep me in the loop."

Genesis shook his head, silver and copper hair falling in his face. It would break his menacing aura if he reached up to flip it back, or moved his head to do so, so he kept his grey-blue eyes focused on the president, even through the obscuring of his fringe. Such was the cost of his haircut; Genesis was not about to change it, even as the rest of him faded.

"Liar." Genesis seethed, voice low and full of venom. "Your signature of approval is on the Jenova Project. You know full well what it is and what it did. I've seen the documents, in Nibelheim. I've seen the mako reactor with the vault labeled Jenova. She's in there, isn't she?"

"Not even Hojo knows her location."

Rolling his eyes, Genesis stood up straight, hands coiling into fists at his sides. He did not have the patience to deal with this idiot, but he would not kill him, either. Genesis had a feeling the General would want to do it himself. "What if the General discovered the truth about his birth, his parents, everything?"

Despite the degradation, his senses were still sharp. So sharp, in fact, that he could hear the rapid increase in the President's heart rate, the catch in his breath. The increase in the production load of his sweat glands was enough that is should have been audible, yet was not. The smell, however, intensified. Genesis could smell every ounce of the President's fear in that office.

"Oh, so you do know something." A predatory grin lifted at the corners of his cracked lips. He could taste the iron of blood in his mouth, faint but ever present.

He needed her cells now.

"I…"

The door opened behind them, soft footsteps traveling up the carpeted stairs. Genesis recognized that gait, his smirk spreading, deepening. With a spring of his legs, a beat of his graying wing, he was airborne, hovering above the figure that was approaching the large desk of father ShinRa.

The platinum blond hair and cold blue eyes, the white suit, the gun he almost always kept with him now: it was the perfect target.

Tucking his wing, Genesis plummeted, hands seizing upon the teen's shoulders, lips by the round of his ear, hissing into it. "Drop the gun."

With a clatter, the gun fell to the floor, hands starting to rise. Genesis did not expect a ShinRa to surrender so easily. Rufus had to have another trick somewhere up his sleeve, though Genesis could not, at the moment, see what that was. Keeping a firm grip on the young Vice President's shoulders, Genesis grinned at the man across from him, who was even more frightened now. It seemed like the man did have a caring bone in his body, even if it hadn't been for Lazard.

"This is another one of your mistakes, coming back to haunt us…" Rufus' words were soft, measured. There was a lot of power in that brain of his; it was so intelligent, it just needed some help in harnessing that energy, that potential. The blond boy licked his lips, blue eyes portals to the fear he was trying not to show through the rest of his body.

Genesis had had too many mako treatments not to notice the subtle little differences.

"So, Mr. President, where is she? Where's Jenova?"

The President looked from his son's face, to Genesis, and back again. His blond brows were furrowed in, darkened from sweat. Genesis did not like the way this was going, the way he kept looking back and forth, weighing his decisions. It looked like Rufus was on the losing side of the equation. Perhaps Genesis had been too hasty in his decision about President ShinRa's compassion.

"She is locked in the vault at the mako reactor in Nibelheim, in the mountains." It was Rufus' voice that filled the silence. He was staring right at his father, a hard, angry look painting his pale features. "Though she is in status, Hojo believes the sheer force of her mind keeps the vault locked to any outsiders."

"Thank you." Genesis kissed Rufus' cheek, a wolfish grin on his lips. "You'll make a fine president one day." With that, he sprung back, one wing powering him out of the window.

0 0 0 0 0

There was an uncomfortable sort of hush in the ShinRa Tower as he returned. His long strides carried him swiftly past a row of guards, which parted immediately for him before returning to formation. Something had happened. The scent of cinnamon still clung to his nostrils, to his mind and would not leave, powering his strides faster. There was something wrong. Sephiroth could tell immediately as he slid his card at the elevator, glancing over at the secretary's desk to see that there was a Turk leaning over his shoulder, reviewing the logs of everyone who passed through.

He pressed the button twice hastily with his black gloved finger, watching with narrowed eyes as the glass door slid shut. The elevator powered upwards, going straight to the top floor as he demanded. With a ding, the elevator opened, and he came quickly up the stairs, slowing when he saw the controlled stride of Tseng approaching.

"Have you been briefed on the situation?"

Sephiroth shook his head, silver hair falling in a chaotic halo about his chiseled face. He needed to have the front of his hair trimmed. It was hanging past his chin now. He had not had it cut since Genesis first went missing.

"Genesis broke into the building. He—"

"Was it really him, or just a copy?" His voice was surprisingly cold, detached. He had to be. Genesis was dead, and yet, at times, he could still feel him there. That smell… Sephiroth took a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut. That cinnamon smell lingered on the air of the President's office. What would Genesis want with the President?

"He could speech, and his body was in an advanced state of degradation. There were no Turks present when he was here, so we cannot get confirmation."

"So we are just going off President ShinRa's word?"

"And Rufus'." Tseng glanced over his shoulder. The teen was sitting in a chair, shaking from head to foot. There were two Turks talking to him, though it did not seem to be helping any. "He used Rufus as leverage for something, but they will not tell us what."

The flat way Tseng said it, without an ounce of irritation, told Sephiroth immediately that it was not true. No Turk would be happy without getting the full story. They were trained to interrogate by force, torture, if they did not get the answers they were seeking. Sephiroth glanced towards the President's desk. The man was staring at him. "Were there any injuries?"

"No."

Again, Tseng's tone cued him in. Sephiroth knew, from that, that there were no physical injuries. The psychological ones were apparent, even though he still felt that he was only being told half the story, on purpose. It had to do with Genesis. "I can handle the details. Genesis is no longer part of SOLDIER. He is a traitor, which makes him the enemy."

Tseng shook his head. "I am not at leisure to discuss the details with you, General." Turning on his heel, Tseng quickly strode back to the scene, leaving him in silence, leaving him alone.

There was something going on here, and Sephiroth needed to get to the bottom of it.