A/N: I apologize if there are mistakes in this; I'm very, very tired, but decided to keep on schedule for all of you.... Thanks to everybody who reviewed! :D That would be: whatevergirl, Kyuubi-ismy-homie, Luna, Tiny Koala, minoki, and KT! As you know by now, reviews make me happy! I never get sick of them, keep them coming! That's the reason I gave you guys this chapter even when I was dead tired. I feel all guilty if I neglect everyone.
Sephiroth was a mess, but the simulator seemed to have taken the worst of it, as lines sparked, and beeps of malfunction sounded from the nearby machines.
The world had faded away completely, looking so real for so long, but returning back to its base, its mechanics; it was but a fantasy. A room that played tricks.
Sephiroth, rarely one to get winded, was breathing shallowly, his normally immaculate hair turned slightly stringy at his scalp from all the sweat that had dripped from his pours. The silver strands were rebellious and tangled, falling over his shining pauldrons in wayward locks.
Angeal, the one who had switched off the simulation, was standing over toward the corner. His large, muscled arms were crossed over his chest like he was about to scold someone, though his expression was filled with concern.
Sephiroth only looked at him, some of the impassiveness leaving his features, most particularly his eyes.
"What are you doing?" The words sounded accusatory, yet were at the same time, full of worry.
"Training," Sephiroth said simply, giving a small smile to make a point.
Angeal frowned, walking closer to Sephiroth, who did not move from his place, but only observed his friend with interest.
"You mean trying to train to breaking point..." Angeal stated, taking in Sephiroth's disheveled appearance in a smooth glance. Then more gently, "Why do you have to do this Seph?"
It was only when they were completely alone that Angeal ever called him "Seph". Sephiroth had never been entirely fond of the nickname, but he allowed Angeal to use it, never once telling the man that he did not like it.
"I—" For once, Sephiroth seemed at a loss for words, looking away from Angeal and toward the smoking machinery, sea green eyes flitting around in thought. He let out the breath he had been holding, shaking his head.
"I heard," Angeal said quietly, already aware of what his friend was going to say. "I went and talked to President Shinra myself. Convenient that they left me out of the meeting, don't you think?"
Sephiroth let out a bitter laugh, staring down at the sword in his hand. The metal was so cold, even after the hell he had put it through.
He was relaxing from Angeal's presence. He could feel that incredible tenseness easing from his shoulders, because he knew that Angeal was the one man that would never jump on a sign of vulnerability, especially in a friend. If anything, it caught Angeal's attention, and brought out his more empathetic nature.
Sephiroth decided to voice his thoughts to the one man that would never use them against him. Though he often felt it was weakness to seek out compassion, he allowed himself the rare privilege of being just like everybody else for a change.
"There is no such thing as 'peace' in Wutai. The younger SOLDIERs are more vulnerable than they seem, and would not be able to hold up were an uprising to occur."
Sephiroth could already feel some sort of easing on his battered conscience, just from saying it all aloud. Angeal's softened expression made it much easier.
"I know..." Angeal answered, looking sad, his eyes somewhat glazed.
It was quiet for a long moment, as Sephiroth continued to look down at Masamune and Angeal watched Sephiroth.
"It's not a crime to be upset, Sephiroth," Angeal finally said, releasing a sigh of concern. "It worries me that you stay so distant, especially when I know there is so much going on in that head of yours."
Sephiroth glanced over at him, again shaking his head. "If only you knew..." he said enigmatically, letting out a forced laugh.
Angeal smiled lightly in return, taking a few steps forward almost restlessly. The puppy must have been rubbing off on him.
He seemed to consider his words for a minute before finally speaking.
"You know, Zack likes you quite a bit. He thinks you're a little too stiff, of course," Angeal chuckled in effort to set the mood, "but he's starting to get used to you."
"Hm. I suppose he would," Sephiroth replied, with a half smile.
He continued to look down at Masamune, his own green eyes reflecting back at him from the metallic surface of the sword, distorted by its shape.
"How is Valentine?" Sephiroth asked, finally, his thoughts returning to the Thirds, particularly Private Valentine, because they had been speaking about Zack.
Angeal seemed a little taken aback by the question, but he answered quickly nonetheless: "He's fine. I think he's a little shaken, but he's toughing it out better than most would."
"And the others?" Sephiroth said, almost out of custom rather than concern.
"Well, Douglas was released from the Med Center yesterday, clean bill of health after the dehydration got cleared up. The other one, Franklin, I think, is getting counciling." Angeal didn't say anything, for a second, letting out a sigh. "The last one went back home."
Sephiroth nodded, not exactly surprised by the outcome of the traumatic training assignment.
Sephiroth looked as though he was about to speak, but he hesitated, seemingly trying to decide if he wanted to say what he was about to say. Perhaps it was whatever Hojo had given him, or maybe he was just feeling more trapped than ever, because he confessed what he had been thinking to Angeal:
"I may have been a little harsher on all of them than I should have been," Sephiroth stated, looking Angeal directly in the eye, finally.
Angeal nodded, contemplating. "They all got spoken to after it happened; the doctors took care of it. I doubt that you would have said anything to them besides what they needed to hear at the time."
Sephiroth stared down at the floor, letting out a sigh. "I forget at times that I once was in their same position. It seems so long ago, as if it never happened."
"No one blames you, Sephiroth. I know why you are what you are, and I know that you do what you must to keep this place up and running. If we went easy on them they would be far more likely to die," Angeal reflected, picking his next words slowly.
"I try to remember that when it comes to Zack.... If we don't force them to get to their full potential, the fault is our own. Getting emotionally involved on any level is dangerous. It not only puts them at risk, but ourselves. I know that's why you feel you have to be so distant. To tell you the truth, I'm glad that you are. Someone needs to be around to remind the rest of us that this is life and death we're talking about. There's no room for being overly compassionate, even if we want to be at times...." Angeal stopped, running a hand through his hair and letting out a breath.
Sephiroth's gaze had lost its edge, and for the first time in a long while, he let his guard fall away, shedding it as swiftly as blood.
"Thank you, Angeal. For some reason, to hear someone else say it...." Sephiroth smiled sadly, moving Masamune in his hand, before returning the blade to his back.
"You know that I am always here to help you," Angeal said with an encouraging smile.
Vincent made his way into the familiar training building, heading for one of the rooms to get in some extra practice time.
Commander Hewley had recently cleared Vincent's card for access to three different training rooms, just in case one of the rooms he needed to use was occupied.
Vincent took one of the longer hallways this time, going to the room he'd never used before, simply to change things up.
His skills with the sword were already improving drastically; time with the Commander was much more beneficial than most of his group classes were. Instead of standing around fighting his peers and trying to gauge his own weaknesses, when he fought with Commander Hewley, the man was watching his every movement, and by the end of a short spar he would be able to tell Vincent exactly what he needed to work on to better his skills.
Commander Hewley had also begun to teach him better hand-to-hand combat, which Vincent had found came to him more easily than swordplay.
He slid in the card key, causing the door to click open.
He pushed his way inside, shoving his card back into one of the pockets of his uniform, not even bothering to look up as he took a few steps forward.
"Who gave you permission to use this room?" a voice breathed, sounding overworked.
Vincent froze in surprise, maroon eyes darting up and looking through the pieces of black hair that seemed to perpetually fall across his face.
The man in red. Genesis Rhapsodos.
His red hair was parted neatly, stark against his black pauldrons, but blending in with his similarly colored coat. He held a long, reddish broadsword in his rust-colored, gloved hand, his posture having grown rigid from the intrusion. A fighting bot lay decimated next to the man's black boots, its metal shredded and wires exposed.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know someone was using this room, sir," Vincent said apologetically, already turning to leave so that he would not irritate the man.
"I asked you a question, SOLDIER." The tone wasn't friendly; it nearly sounded hateful. It made Vincent stop where he was.
"Commander Hewley, sir," Vincent answered, looking over his shoulder.
He was glad that he was able to keep his voice from wavering. Genesis did not look happy, and the admission didn't appear to be helping matters any, as the man's next words clearly showed.
"Oh really? Why would that be?" Genesis asked, his voice turning to mocking. There was a sardonic smile on his lips that looked almost evil.
"Extra training, sir."
Genesis nodded, his eyes tracking over Vincent appraisingly. The look would have been similar to one Vincent had seen Sephiroth give him, except that this one appeared to be much less well-intentioned.
"Come here," Genesis said after a moment, the decision impetuous. He was still smiling in that twisted way.
"Sir?" Vincent questioned, instantly suspicious. Something about the way the man looked at him wasn't entirely right.... It was almost...evil.
"You came to spar, right? What better time than the present?" Genesis said, twirling his sword in a circular motion, his blue eyes intent on Vincent's maroon ones.
Vincent's blood pounded in his ears for a moment, as he realized what the man had just said. Every instinct within him was setting off in warning. Something was very wrong.
Genesis had walked over and snatched up a sword that had been displayed on the wall, and brought it back to Vincent, holding it by the blade so that the boy could easily grab it.
"Here," he said, ignoring the fact that Vincent hadn't replied.
Vincent stared down at the blade before his eyes flicked back to Genesis's face. He didn't want to fight the man; it was obviously not a good idea. He didn't want to disobey and get in trouble, however, he felt that the other alternative was not one he wanted to find out about.
"Sir, I'd rather not," Vincent answered, not with certainty, though the tone was passable.
"I'd rather you did." The look had turned much more stern, while the voice had changed yet again, sounding insistent.
Vincent looked back at the outstretched sword, then hesitantly accepted it. Genesis is both Sephiroth and Angeal's friend, Vincent thought, he wouldn't hurt me....
Vincent was sadly mistaken.
Without warning, the red broadsword swung at him. Vincent raised his own sword just in time to catch the red blade crossways, a sudden fear prickling at his skin. His adrenaline flashed through his veins instantaneously, as Genesis withdrew, then followed through with yet another attack.
Steel hit steel, Genesis's movements elegant and skillful, while Vincent's lacked both experience and the mako enhanced strength that was apparent in his opponent.
Genesis was so quick that Vincent faltered easily, missing his own chances for offense as he was still straggling behind on his last defensive move. It was clear that although Genesis was "going easy" on him, he was still not giving Vincent any opportunity to attack edgewise.
"Too quick for you?" Genesis taunted, smiling thinly. "Should I slow down?"
With that, the onslaught of attacks increased in intensity, Genesis's blade swinging for him seemingly without care, though it did not hit him.
Within a few minutes, Vincent was beginning to fear for his own safety, not sure if Genesis was doing it to intimidate him or if he was genuinely trying to harm him, albeit slowly.
Vincent blocked repeatedly, retreating because he did not want to get hit. The red sword was dangerously close at times, flying within inches of his body with a light, metallic whistle as it moved swiftly through the air.
"Stop!" Vincent said in warning, feeling anger starting to swell in his chest.
The blade had been more than close that time; it had cut a slit through the fabric of his uniform, right on the left side of his chest. It had barely grazed the skin, and although it was not an injury by any means, the fact that Genesis had actually intentionally done it made Vincent not only frightened, but angry.
"Why?" Genesis asked with a laugh, striking again, with a flourish.
"I'm not as fast as you..." Vincent breathed, his sword locked with Genesis's.
Genesis only smiled, not slowing in the least.
It was fifteen minutes before Genesis finally let up. He halfheartedly blocked Vincent's offensive strikes, laughing mockingly as he did so. He didn't even bother to attack anymore, instead only throwing off Vincent's sword, sometimes harshly just to get a reaction.
Finally, Genesis forcefully pushed Vincent back, using his sword. Vincent staggered, but caught himself. Genesis did not walk forward to continue the spar, but instead, a secretive smile pulled at his lips, and his sword rested at his side unthreateningly as he studied Vincent.
Vincent was worn down. He had small nicks everywhere, even one large one across his cheek. What was strange, was that somehow he had known he could have backed down at any time, yet he had not. Something about the man's arrogance had bothered him, struck at something deep. It was as though there was a part of himself that wanted to battle the wrong of the situation, and the only way he seemed to be able to do that was to fight back.
Vincent didn't quite understand why he had done it; pride maybe? A weird sense of justice? Whatever it was, he felt like he had just been exposed to a new side of himself. It was rash, almost foolish, and he realized, it was the same thing that had driven him while he was out in that hellish desert, focusing his sniper scope on the distant dunes.
He was huffing out each breath, his maroon eyes accusing behind the errant locks of black hair. Blood was dripping down his cheek, marring his too-pale skin.
Genesis returned his sword to its place on his back, still observing Vincent for a brief moment. He seemed pleased with himself, for whatever reason.
"Without a weapon this time, SOLDIER," Genesis ordered.
Vincent's anger flared up the First's words. He didn't hesitate as he dropped his sword with a loud clatter to the floor.
Angeal had already left, as Sephiroth made his way to the entrance.
He was looking down at his phone, frowning at the number of missed calls and texts, when he heard a winded cough come from down the corridor to his left.
It was already dark outside, and most of the lights had been turned off in the building, leaving the hall bathed in shadow.
Vincent Valentine appeared from the darkness, limping somewhat, though valiantly trying not to show it. He didn't see Sephiroth as he rounded the corner toward the exit, his head held lower than usual.
Sephiroth could smell the blood on him.
In a few quick strides, Sephiroth neared Vincent. The boy turned when he heard boots on the tile, his eyes wide, almost fearful, though they held a residual anger that surprised the General.
The expression changed completely when the boy saw who it was, softening, as the anger disappeared completely. His face reddened slightly, and he averted his gaze for a moment, seeming to collect himself.
Vincent had stopped breathing. He hadn't thought he would see the General anytime soon, and more specifically when he himself was not in the best of condition. He did notice quickly, however, that the General was not as neat as he usually was, his hair in disarray compared to its usual state. It was odd to see Sephiroth that way; it made him seem all the more human.
What was worse than being caught out in the hall with cuts all over, was that one of Vincent's dreams flashed in his memory, one of the more explicit ones. It was hard to look at the perfect pink mouth without thinking about what had happened in those dreams. Vincent cursed himself, trying to think of anything else, though he could feel his face heat from the line of thought.
"Private Valentine, what happened to you?" Sephiroth enquired, his green eyes immediately flicking to the slash across the boy's cheek. His voice was not toneless, but murkier, relaying a slight sound of concern underneath.
"Sir..." Vincent couldn't look the General in the eyes, but instead found himself studying his face, trying to quickly come up with some excuse for why he looked like he had just been in a fight that he had lost. "I was training," Vincent said with as much certainty as he could muster.
"With whom?"
Vincent swallowed, caught between fear about speaking about Genesis and embarrassment for the thoughts he was having. He felt trapped, like he had no time to think any of it over. Why did he have to think of such things when he was in front of the General? Why couldn't he just put it all aside and forget about it like he knew he needed to?
"I—"
Vincent could barely look Sephiroth in the eye, so embarrassed and confused he didn't know what to say.
"Private..." the General drawled.
"I was training with First Class Genesis Rhapsodos, sir," Vincent answered.
For some reason he knew that lying to the General would not work, so he chose to be honest. Not only that, but he was too preoccupied to come up with any believable alternatives. He wasn't even sure he was capable of lying to the man that had saved his life.
Sephiroth's eyes turned stormy for a brief instant, as he looked down at the form of Vincent, the bruises that were just starting to show, blossoming from underneath the collar of his uniform.
"I see," he said quietly, feeling that familiar scorching anger reheating throughout his cold veins.
Sephiroth had assumed that the "training" session had more or less burned the anger out of him, but apparently he had been quite wrong, as it seemed to have come back without difficulty.
Abruptly, Sephiroth's black-gloved hand went to Vincent's face. The boy visibly flinched from its unexpectedness, but did not dare pull away.
Vincent stood completely still, doing his best to hide his discomfort, while the General's cool, leather-covered hand faintly held onto his jaw. The hand moved his face to the side, as green eyes looked at the wound. Vincent's breathing would have been ragged had he not used every ounce of self control to inhale and exhale steadily.
He hated himself. He could feel the all too typical tightening in places he didn't need to think about, while bits and pieces of dreams he didn't want to recall taunted him, making his pale complection tinge scarlet.
Something in Vincent seemed to reach a sick sort of realization. He was reacting. This wasn't just some ridiculous dream. The General was touching him out of concern and he was enjoying it. He felt vaguely disgusted with himself for being so easily aroused, particularly when all Sephiroth was doing was trying to help him and he certainly didn't need a hormonal teenage boy getting sexually excited over it.
Was it more than just a side effect of being rescued and a twisted, sex-obsessed sub-conscience? The thought made Vincent feel far too exposed. Did he actually want the General? Were the feelings real?
Just as abruptly, the hand withdrew, but Vincent could not go back to his less tense posture. His thoughts were too scattered, too wrong.... He felt like he was betraying the General for thinking such stupid things.
"Where else are you hurt, Private Valentine?" Sephiroth's voice was calm, helping Vincent sober from the hormones that were trying to undo him.
"I'm fine, sir," Vincent answered quietly, not looking directly into those perceptive eyes.
"You were limping," Sephiroth stated bluntly.
"I just need some rest..."
"I'd prefer you were examined by one of the medical staff," Sephiroth said, again his eyes moving to the bruise near Vincent's throat. He was not hiding his concern this time, but let it cloud his eyes and soften his features.
Genesis.... Sephiroth could feel his fury building, knowing it was partially from whatever Hojo had injected him with, yet also from his growing disappointment in Genesis as of late. What had he done?
Vincent bowed his head, looking at the tile almost demurely as he battled to keep his thoughts buried.. "I will go if you want me to, sir, but I'm fine."
"I'll take you now," Sephiroth said, trying to sound reassuring in the way that Angeal would.
Vincent's look changed to fear and apprehension almost immediately. "Sir, it's not that bad. The training was just a little rough, that's all," Vincent protested.
The last thing he needed was the General going after Genesis. Genesis didn't like him already, and Vincent was not keen to make whatever animosity was there even worse. Enough people hated him already for getting extra tutoring from Commander Hewley, and to have Genesis against him was not something he needed when he was still just a Third who didn't stand a chance.
"Please, sir," Vincent said, "I just need to rest."
Sephiroth contemplated Vincent's protests for a moment, watching the boy intently. The teen had been through a lot, and hadn't that been exactly what he discussed with Angeal? There was a thin line between being helpful to subordinates and harsh. Vincent Valentine had proved himself to be an adept SOLDIER, and Sephiroth decided, had already dealt with quite enough for the time being.
He gave a curt nod of his head in response.
As for Genesis.... Sephiroth would deal with him.