Note to Tyl (pairing question): Hi Tyl, firstly, thank you for the review. I'm sorry about not mentioning the pairings. It's mainly because I wasn't sure in the beginning whether I wanted pairings (by which I mean sex scenes and/or romantic relationship) in the story. My fics tend to grow organically, and it takes a little time before I am sure what I want to happen in the relationship between characters. But now I am this far in, I am afraid there will be male/male sex scenes. This chapter is, however, safe in that regard, and I will write a warning in the beginning of every chapter if there is a smut scene. I understand not everyone is a slash fan. It's just hard to remember it when I read and write both hetero pairing and slash fics. Hope this answers your question, and thank you for dropping by. :)


Chapter Four

With large cities and towns all around the world no longer inhabitable, Genesis led his followers to the south of the Eastern continent, where smaller towns and villages were located not far from subtropical forests. It had been a strange journey. The ghost cities and towns they had passed showed no sign of human tragedy and struggle apart from crumbled buildings and houses. No bodies were left lying around as a reminder to the indiscriminate nature of brutal attacks against human civilizations.

Indiscriminate in that the Weapons attacked all humans without exception. The Weapons were partial in another sense; they had been designed to eliminate the human race and only that species. It was as though the Goddess let them thrive on the Planet only with a view to destroying them later on. The survivors were still too apprehensive about their own safety and future that they showed no sign of questioning the Goddess' method of restoring the lost balance on her Planet. They had accepted Genesis' explanation that humans lost all respect towards the Planet and her other creation, inviting her wrath upon themselves. Yet, she was merciful enough to give them a second chance. It all seemed to make sense. Without pity or grief for the vanished residents, they merely searched and collected valuable items – mostly food and clothing – and moved on.

Seeing that no visions concerning the whereabouts of the Promised Land came from his Goddess, Genesis accepted Tseng's suggestion for their final destination. The ex-residents of Midgar eventually settled in the fertile area where most of Midgar's rice and wheat supplies had come from. The climate there was conducive to farming, and fruits were abundant in nearby forests. The location was also not far from the sea, making fishing a viable part of the community. With the human population reduced to less than ten thousand, resources for their survival were by no means in shortage.

Really, the place was a land of honey and gold and was as good as a Paradise.

Except, Genesis mourned for a space where he could be hidden away from prying eyes. Tseng and a couple of Turks did a good job deterring people from turning up at his tent unannounced and asking for his audience. That, however, meant they were still watching him, and Genesis could not simply walk away from those whom he so heroically saved without establishing some kind of order that would survive when he had enough of playing a savior.

Oh, he very much enjoyed being adored and loved. Fame was what he lived for and thrived on, but only at a distance. He was by no means a people person, and frankly he didn't want anything more to do with the survivors other than his occasional public appearance for one of his speeches, which were religiously recorded and passed as the law.

He could never relax around people. Tseng was tolerable, and Genesis was beginning to enjoy the usually silent man's presence. Being trained to be discrete and perceptive, the raven-haired Turk knew how not to aggravate the ex-Soldier's short temper. Unfortunately, the rest of the company was not so amiable. What did they want from him? A hug? It puzzled Genesis why they sought his presence when he had nothing much in common with them. He bemoaned the lack of a solid building where he could lock himself inside and remain as the mysterious hero. The construction of houses and other buildings were moving at a snail's pace due to the small number of skilled builders among the refugees.

Being forced to live amongst those who practically worshipped the ground he walked on, Genesis truly missed Angeal, who found pleasure in interacting with and inspiring ordinary people, even though he never liked his childhood friend's honor and dream sermons. Angeal always had taken tedious tasks off Genesis, so eager to help him and forgive him for anything. Back then, he never really appreciated his friends as much as he should have, so wrapped up in his own dream and desire for fame and glory. Recognition of his brilliancy by the public in large wasn't of course all that he thought of, but nothing was more important than his one dream.

After all, dreams define and shape who we are.

Now that he finally had what he craved for most, he wasn't sure whether it was worth all he and his friends had to go through, many of which he was responsible for.

Angeal is dead and Sephiroth is unreachable.

It was during one of his sentimental musings that Genesis heard a voice that sounded remarkably like his own.

"Genesis?"

There, in the middle of his private tent, in the depth of the night, the winged creature stood, wearing an almost identical expression as that on Genesis' face, surprise.

Apart from the fact that he was glowing, emitting soft light, and had two silver wings to match his silver hair, his appearance was that of Genesis dressed in a white robe.

No, not quite.

Upon close inspection, Genesis could see that the being had cat-like emerald eyes with narrower shoulders than his and a slightly more youthful face. Discounting the glossy wings and Sephiroth-like features, the being looked uncannily like Genesis when he met Sephiroth for the first time. He was twenty years old then, full of optimistic hope for the future and not at all bitter.

Who are you?

The being's lips curled up into a sweet smile, and when he spoke again, his voice was melodic without Genesis' habitual condescending tone.

"I am Camael, the first born of the holy union between our God and our Planet. My lord Sephiroth sent me here to find you."

An angel.

"You are to travel to the northern crater, immediately. You may fly to the northern continent, but once there you must travel by foot."

And that is how Genesis finds himself fighting his way through the wasteland covered in snow and ice, gleaming white through and through. Even without wings, the ex-Soldier's speed is legendary, only next to that of Sephiroth. He is too enhanced by Mako and Jenova cells to feel the biting cold. It still has taken him a good five days to come this far, with little to no rest. At least, however, he now knows Sephiroth is close.

He's been asking the same question again and again. Can he hope against all hopes? After all, hope was the one thing he never let go of throughout the worst crisis of his life.

Camael didn't stay around to satisfy his curiosity, and from the look of surprise on the angel's face, Genesis did not believe his look-alike had an answer to his question. Why did Sephiroth and the Planet create their first angel in Genesis' image? Does this mean he is still dear to Sephiroth on some level?

My friend, I couldn't simply beg for your assistance. My pride was all that I was left with.

"Lame excuse, Genesis."

Genesis whirls around in a flurry of red and black to see Sephiroth softly landing on the snow covered ground, one lone black wing gracefully curved with the barest of quivers. The young God now stands motionless in his human/Jenova form, his long silver hair swaying a little sideways in the harsh wind and glowing in the pale moonlight. He stands there not as a God, but as how Genesis last saw him – wrapped in the familiar General uniform, a long black coat with silver cauldrons and matching black boots and pants.

It is an endearing sight, if not for the fact that the Masamune is already drawn, and his expression is somewhat cold, void of any playfulness. His next words confirm Genesis' suspicion that Sephiroth has yet to forgive Genesis for the disrespectful and callous insults the ex-Commander so carelessly meted out in their last meeting.

"And don't call me your friend. You've done an impeccable job in shattering my last remaining illusion as to what you so shamelessly call a friendship."

"Would you rather me not to offer any excuses at all?" Genesis asks, managing a playful tone and trying not to lose faith. Sephiroth will forgive him for his past transgression; he always has. Surely, the ex-General didn't summon Genesis all the way here just to kill him off or tell him that they were no longer friends.

Sephiroth regards Genesis' hopeful expression in cold fury. He knows what the ex-Commander is thinking, but what annoys him is that Genesis is probably right. He would forgive Genesis in the end. The auburn haired beauty will, however, have to think again if he believes Sephiroth's forgiveness is easy to earn, after all that has happened between them.

Aside from and despite their obvious connection through Jenova cells, Sephiroth still finds Genesis spoiled, imprudent, impulsive and reckless. In short, Genesis is pretty much either irritating or infuriating. Sometimes, he even managed to evoke both feelings. Hell, Genesis was the only one who managed to breach Sephiroth's nearly perfect barrier so many times. And he is succeeding even now.

It is easy to dismiss Sephiroth's attraction towards Genesis merely as the workings of Jenova cells. While that explains the human/Jenova God's fondness and tolerance towards Angeal, there has been always something else working in Genesis' favor. Sephiroth hardly noticed Angeal in the beginning, unlike Genesis whose carefree manner and enticing, well-defined face left a deep impression on the ex-General after only what was their first encounter.

Genesis was and still is the epitome of elegance and grace with volatile passion always lurking under the surface and freely erupting given half an opportunity. Unlike Angeal and Sephiroth, Genesis never really bothered with discipline, except as a means of self-improvement. Sephiroth, never quite understanding why, was seduced by and drawn to the impossible arrogance that was Genesis until that same arrogance pushed him a little too far in their disastrous Nibelheim encounter. Genesis represented freedom and all things Sephiroth could not have and could not allow himself to become.

"Sephiroth," Genesis calls out tentatively, taking a few uneasy steps only to find the pointed end of the Masamune blocking his path.

"Stay where you are."

As reckless as Genesis is, he can understand perfectly well that Sephiroth means what he says. The calm voice carries an implicit threat that cannot be withdrawn, simply because he has spoken. One foolish move, the young God will not hesitate to impale Genesis with his seven-foot katana. It's not the worst kind of death, but if Genesis must die, he wants to make it an offering, a meaningful sacrifice.

So, Genesis does something that will catch Sephiroth off guard. He kneels down on one knee with one fluent motion. Then he raises one hand, palm up and holding out a white apple.

"I have nothing to offer you that you do not already have. But know this. Whatever you desire from me will be given willingly."

Emerald green eyes light up in amusement, softening the cold look on Sephiroth's face. For anyone else who somehow crossed Sephiroth, the gesture would have meant a desperate attempt to preserve his life. Genesis, however, would never lower himself merely to save his skin. And that reflection causes Sephiroth to smile, even though it is by no means enough to dissolve the hurt and the subsequent barrier he built against the red head.

"Does that include your life, Genesis?"

Sephiroth already knows the answer, but he likes to hear it all the same.

"If that is what you desire."

"And you will not ask for anything back."

"Nothing that you are not willing to give."

"Not even Angeal?" Sephiroth raises one eyebrow, his tone mocking without malice.

Genesis finally manages a smug smile, a glimpse of hope returning to slightly hooded blue eyes. "Not unless you wish him back."

The Masamune disappears into the air, and Sephiroth takes a slow bite into Genesis' offering.

"Then you will be mine. You will serve me as I see fit."


A.N. The rating will change from the next chapter. I'm sorry for the short notice and hope none of you will be disappointed with the change. Thank you as always to everyone who has been encouraging me to continue with this fic. ^_^ You guys rock!