The Nibelheim Mako Reactor

I don't know how long I've been sitting here on this high and crumbling cliff since I did as Tseng requested and left. But it's like I'm attached to him by an invisible chain that only lets me go so far and I guiltily sit with my knees pulled in while the crimson of my cape randomly blows from the high winds like stained waves upon an invisible sea of thickening woe.

I pay little mind to it though, and I pay little mind to the black strands that brush against my cheek and get caught in my eyes and the corners of my mouth. And I don't even concern myself with the soft padding of paws coming unobtrusively closer to me from behind.

Of course, I have little doubt who they belong to. But I'm more concerned about the damage I may have caused since Tseng hasn't come out of the bathroom since I left. And he hasn't run any water to suggest that he has any other reason to still be in there other than the fact that I've made him sick by stirring up something he didn't want to think about.

And although I feel the greatest urge to go back and comfort him—much like I tried with Lucrecia—I know my presence is the worst possible thing for him right now.

Much like it was for Lucrecia.

"Is everything all right?"

Out of everyone I got to know from Avalanche, Nanaki is the most balanced and maybe even the most comforting in times of need. Mostly because he doesn't pry. Though he exhibits the air that he always knows more than he lets on and he never judges.

He doesn't even seem to mind the fact that I haven't answered him and he thoughtfully nudges my arm with his head, much like a comforting pet would do before he sits beside me with the subtle sound of the beads clicking in his mane and commences to quietly clean the fir on his front paws.

I can't help but wonder how he feels about me bringing Tseng to the land he governs. Though I can't be bothered asking and I wind up removing my glove so I can return the thoughtful comfort he's offering by scratching at the thick fur on his head, soft, opposed to the rough and beaten appearance that he carries on his vibrantly coloured coat.

"That feels nice," he mutters as he twitches his left ear and scoots a little closer, "I've had this troublesome itch behind my ear all day."

"Maybe there's something there," I wonder, even though I voice it before I lean over and brush his fur around to see if he's gotten a bite or a foreign object that I can help him with while lacking any real focus.

And while I'm searching around, I find a small sliver and I pull it out roughly and more reactionary than anything the moment Nanaki observes, "It looks like Tseng is feeling better—Ow!"

"Sorry," I mutter before I rub at the spot to try to make it feel better. Then I mumble without turning my attention away, "What makes you say that?"

"Well, he's left the room."

That's not possible, I think. I've been watching him ever since I left and this is the first time I've turned my attention away, "When?"

"A while ago," he answers before standing up and stretching, "I saw him using the phone in the lobby. He was wearing the clothes you asked me to get for him and he asked me to thank you for your troubles."

"Thank me."

"Yes. He said he appreciated you going out of your way to ensure he was all right."

Despite Tseng's fallacious courtesy and the fact that I'm tempted to say where he can stick it, I find myself stuck on the fact that there's no possible way he could have disappeared without me noticing. In all of my missions as a Turk, I never lost a target. Though I remind myself that he isn't a target and it doesn't change the fact that there's no way I couldn't have noticed him wandering around, using the phone, and leaving.

"Who was he talking to?"

"I assume it was someone from Shinra," Nanaki answers before his eyes turn up at me with an innocent concern.

"Did he say where he was going?"

"Only that he was heading north," he answers with a shrug and returns to cleaning his paws again.

"North," I repeat, dwelling on the fact that north could be anywhere as I stare at the window to the room he was in.

"By transport?"

"On foot."

Even though I don't doubt that Tseng is a wilful man, I highly doubt he would have set out as far north as the Northern crater. And the fact that he set out on foot leaves me with the hope that I can catch up with him. Though I'm not so sure that it's the best of plans.

But strangely, he left no trail to follow and finding him almost seems hopeless. So instead of trying to guess where he's going, I find my own way north to a place I'd been feeling more drawn to by the day.

Maybe I thought it would help clear my head, and maybe I thought it would help me make sense over what it is that I want or expect from him—and whether he's lying or not. He's been doing it for so long that it's hard to tell, particularly when I get the strong feeling that he's lying to himself as well and starting to believe it.

And if he was being honest, then I'm afraid I'm even more confused and I'm starting to wonder if I'm so stuck on finding something wrong with him that I've managed to imagine the entire scenario of him and Sephiroth on my own. But I'm not sure I'm creative enough to come up with something like that on my own.

Maybe it shouldn't matter, I tell myself once I find a mist-covered path under the waterfalls of my destination. Clean scents fill the air, rising from the wild flowers and flourishing grasses abundant to the area. It reminds me of him again and makes me wish I could shut myself off while I find myself standing there with a reluctance I don't fully understand.

Then I close my eyes while the fine mists from the spray coats my skin enough to make it run down my cheeks like tears.

Only it's cool, and I tilt my head upwards and tell myself that tears are supposed to be warm, and if I recall correctly, they're meant to lift the burdens away. But I no longer know of such luxuries. I haven't been capable of shedding one ever since I was altered and I think Lucrecia shed enough for us both.

It leaves me with nothing but an expelling breath that isn't necessary before I turn my attention down the dark path that leads to a broadening cave where Chaos' origins lay. It's also where Lucrecia's spirit dwindled in a hardened prison of mako built out of her own guilt.

And once I manage to make my way to the large cavern without remembering how I got there, I find myself staring at the empty spot where I last saw her without ever knowing where she'd gone, and I unconsciously hang onto the chain around my neck. I can only hope it was a better place than the one she left behind.

Though it's still something that churns inside of me and I still can't stop myself from viewing this place as a sacred shrine. Nor can I seem to erase the echoing memory that constantly reminds me that the only reason she ever allowed herself to find peace was because I lied to her. And whether she knows that now is unknown to me as I try to find the memory of her voice amidst the deafening silence that I desperately wade through.

But for what, I don't know.

Do I want to admit that I'm seeking her guidance, or even worse, her blessing? After all the things I did and didn't do, I doubt I deserve either. Yet, for some torturous reason, I need it. And it's almost like the feeling of chaos eating away at me—along with the fear of it—while I silently question it in my head since there's no point in voicing it.

She was Sephiroth's mother, and it only seems fitting that I have her permission to pursue something that belonged to him, provided that there was substance to the things I think I know now. And while I stand here with my head down and facing the remains of an emerald-coloured prison broken into shatters, I begin to think that I might know where Tseng has gone.

And I feel even worse, knowing that I'm thinking of him while standing in the remainder of her essence.

It's the place where Sephiroth was believed to have died the first time—Nibelheim, and I set out on a small thread of hope, knowing that it's not much to go by. And as I suspected, no one in the town has seen him. But it doesn't stop me from searching the areas he could have possibly gone and almost to my disappointment, he's at the last place I wanted to look and exactly where I thought he might be.

Underneath a three-quarter length coat with the collar turned up, he's wearing the solid black turtleneck that Nanaki must have put more thought into than I would have expected, and it's complimented by solid black pants. It's strangely classy enough to be acceptable to him, and yet it's casual enough to allow him the freedom of movement and comfort that he requires, along with the uncanny ability to keep him concealed in the typical black shroud that is reminiscent of him.

There's no way a person with ordinary eyes would have noticed him at first, especially when he's standing so close to the blackened ore that this treacherous mountain is made out of.

"How did you find me?" he asks.

His voice is flat and almost bored sounding while he stares down the cliff's jagged edge that he's standing near, giving him a clear view of the reactor and oddly keeping his own presence concealed as if he's hiding from the ghost's that might live there.

"A hunch," I tell him as I stay back as well, feeling the strange need to remain hidden like him. Though I'm uncertain why. And I wonder if maybe, I'm just following his lead.

"Hm."

For a while, he simply stands there, quietly in the mild breeze while keeping his focus on the rocky grounds below, and I find myself backing farther into the rock as if I'm capable of blending with it. Then he inches closer to the edge and looks farther down, and I feel a slight churn inside before I almost jump to grab him like a fool. But I've caught my cape on the sharp edges of the stones and he's anticipated my darkening concerns and thrown one of his blades at me that pins the other side of my cape to the cliff behind me.

He doesn't turn around though, and he crouches while inching a little closer to the edge while keeping his voice low as if he's only half-focusing.

"You can relax, Vincent."

"Vince," I say, mindless of why I argued and not even realizing that I did.

He jerks his head to the side slightly, as if he's agitated by my lack of thought and then he shakes it before returning his focus to the reactor.

"If I wanted to jump, I would have done it by now," he tells me, knowing where my concerns lay, "Besides, there's always a chance I could survive such a fall."

Then he snorts and mumbles like he's only half-focusing again, "And I doubt I'd like to add that to my list of reasons to wish I'd died in the first place."

Not sure if I should urge him to continue on whatever path he's on right now, I set my focus on freeing my cloak instead, thinking he should have known that it wasn't going to hold me. But maybe he only needed to stall me enough to get his message through.

"I must admit I'm surprised you're here," he mutters, trailing off like his train of thought is shifting. Then he slicks his hair back and crouches down more.

"I was under the impression you'd finally dreamt up a reason to stay away for good this time."

"You'd like that."

"I wouldn't complain."

He's still talking like he's not focusing on what either of us are saying, and when I pull his blade out and untangle the other side of my cloak from the sharp rock it was caught on, he holds his hand back and pushes his coat to the side like he's getting ready to grab another weapon that he either thinks he'll need to protect himself from me or that he'll just throw at me for the hell of it.

"Stay where you are," he says before he leans to the side and keeps his back to me, "I'm afraid I can't afford to be knocked out by you right now," and then he adds with an almost bitter tone, "Again."

"Again?" I repeat, keeping my voice as low as his and not really knowing why we're talking like we're afraid of being overheard. Then it dawns on me that he thinks I'm the one responsible for him passing out, "You think I did something to you?"

"There was no one else present."

"You passed out."

"I don't think so," he says, and then he eases back onto his heels and lets out a bored sigh, "I don't pass out."

After that, he slicks his hair back and mutters under his breath, "At least not for no reason."

"You must be the most obstinate man I have ever come across," I blurt out, almost growling at him before he holds his hand in the air again to tell me not to come near him while I grit my teeth at his action, "You're not invincible Ts –"

"Shut up," he says, almost curtly if not abruptly like I had no right to interrupt him or say anything at all.

Then he stands and shakes a complaint from his leg off and straightens his posture while placing his hand over his ear.

"Shut up?" I repeat under my breath before I decide to ignore his orders, "You're a real –"

"Shhh—you idiot!" he hisses before I'm pushed back against the rock and he's pressing his back against it beside me with his arm held out across my chest to keep me in place. Then he hisses again as he turns to me with those burning eyes of his and I see the earpiece he's wearing.

"I thought you had exceptional senses!"

"You're on a job," I mutter, realizing he's not here for the reason I thought he was and lowering my head over the weight of my assumptions.

"Of course I am," he harshly whispers, "There's no other reason for me to be somewhere like this."

Then he stops and runs his eyes over me like he's suddenly offended and mutters out, "I don't believe this."

"Believe what?"

With a shake to his head, he pushes me farther into the wall of jagged stone and then steps away. All the while, he keeps his eyes locked to me in disbelief.

"You're sick, Vince."

"Vincent."

"You thought I came here because this is where Sephiroth died."

The thought crossed my mind, I admit to myself. But I don't dare say it to him, and I ignore the fact that he looks like he wants to explode over me making such a degrading assumption about him.

"I'm not like you," he says, still unable to take that cautious look of his away from me, "I don't waste my time mourning over those that don't deserve it."

"What are you saying?"

"I think you know what I'm saying."

And unfortunately, I do, and as a result I pull out my gun and aim it at him while he scoffs at me and smirks.

"How much do you know?"

"Enough to know that Lucrecia doesn't deserve to have a parasite carry her burdens for her, never mind some animal."

"Then you don't know enough," I tell him while I pull the safety back with the intention to carry out the threat.

He ignores me though, and he mutters out, "Shit," while placing his hand over his ear.

Then he moves against the wall so he's beside me again and bats my gun from his direction like it's nothing more than a mild irritation. After that, he pulls out a phone that he must have bought in Nibelheim and grumbles under his breath while dialling, "I know enough."

"You're unbelievable," I tell him before I push the barrel against his temple and he places his hand over my mouth to shut me up, ignoring the gun again.

"Yes—Reno," he says into the PHS, angering me even more while wondering if he called him on purpose just because I'm here and not over the fact that he's not taking me seriously, "Tell Rufus the targets are planning to move out."

Then he crouches down and curls his finger over his mouth while muttering out affirmatives and negatives to his precious little redhead as orders are passed back and forth between Reno, Rufus, and Tseng. All the while, I'm gritting my teeth and putting the gun away even though I'm seriously wanting to beat him with it instead of shooting him.

"Affirmative," he finally says before he stands and stretches his legs out again, and then he says, "Yes. I can handle it," as if he's agitated by the concern his little crush is showing over him.

After that, he hangs up and then looks at me with a start before he shakes his head at me and moves those degrading black orbs over me in distaste.

"Oh, please," he sarcastically mutters while he notes the way I'm glaring at him through the abysmal strands of darkness hanging over my face and shakes his head again, "Honestly, Vince. Don't you have something better to do with your life?"

"Vincent."

"Mm," he mumbles before he adjusts his sleeves and pulls out the blades he keeps on his belt, one for each hand, "I don't have time for this."

Then he walks away and makes his way down below through the winding caverns of mako pools while I reluctantly follow and keep my silence. And when we get near the opening that leads to the reactor, he stops and turns around as if he's agitated again.

"You're not following me."

"Yes I am."

"You're not a Turk anymore."

"You've been ordered to take them out," I tell him before I daringly step toward him and ignore his tightening grip on the blades.

"You're going to need my help."

"I don't need your help," he hisses before one of the blades twirl, almost unconsciously in his hand, reminding me of one of Sephiroth's moves before the tip makes a stunning contact under my chin.

"Did Sephiroth teach you that?"

"Actually, there is something I could use your help with," He suddenly says as if I didn't say a word to him. Then he straightens his posture and looks up and to the side as if he's thinking of a brilliant plan. It makes him seem even less trustworthy than he already is.

"I think I'll pass," I tell him, and I bat his blade to the side while deciding to walk away with the sharp sound of my cape flowing through the stale air behind me when I abruptly turn from him.

"Hm," he mumbles, like I did exactly what he wanted me to and when I turn around in realization, he's gone and I'm cursing at him and myself for falling victim to his conniving behaviour.

I know where he's going though. I overheard enough of his conversation to know that he was ordered to enter the reactor and to take them out and retrieve whatever they were after. And as a result, I find myself at the entrance with an exercised caution over the fact that he probably anticipated that I'd follow, and sure enough, he's taken it upon himself to lay traps.

None of them are lethal though, making me realize that he only wants to slow me down as I curse at the fine thorns in my arm over the tripwire I ignored. Maybe he only wants to pass along the message that he wants me to go away. But I ignore his wishes and pull the thorns out while lowering my head into my mantle, more determined than I was a moment ago. While readying my gun, I commence with ghostly steps and I pass someone that was unfortunate enough to have already crossed his path.

That's one down, I think to myself while I look at the lifeless corpse that never stood a chance. It was taken out quietly and I recall Tseng mentioning to Reno that he counted five voices in total. And as I get closer to the heart of the reactor, I pass three others and grit my teeth while picking at the sticky remainders of the man-made web I got caught in. One of them looks like they were a struggle, I note, before I focus on the clashing strikes of metal on metal as sharp and lightening-quick echoes pierce through the unmoving air.

I look down from the high rails when I approach to see the disconcerting dance of heated battle, almost eloquent and fluid as it's practiced upon the crumbling and cracked platform below. It goes on for longer than it needs to though, and I snort. Then out of nothing more than sheer vindictiveness, I ready my gun and put a bullet through the enemy's temple, taking the glory away just as Tseng is about to take him out with a finishing move.

He stops as if frozen to the core, stunned. Then he takes a deep breath while his lips purse in anger and the blades twirl in his hands before quickly being sheathed. And after that, he snaps his attention up to me like he didn't have to guess at what just happened, or even where the shot came from, and he angrily demands while still heated from the rush of battle, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I had a clean shot," I tell him as if he shouldn't have expected anything else.

Then I twirl my gun before holstering it to show off like I want to ignite the sparks further. And while he glares up at me, I place my hand on the rail and sneer back down at him.

Why I'm doing this, I don't know, and why I'm feeling more alive over it confuses me even more.

But none of it changes the fact that he's not any more impressed than he was to begin with. And he practically hisses at me.

"You need to leave, Vince."

"Vincent," I remind him while I notice that I'm not even thinking about whether it bothers me anymore as I do it like it's starting to turn into a mindless game we play simply to drive each other crazy. Then I start to walk to the ladder leading down to him while I drag my hand along the rail and he cautiously watches me with a look that tells me something's not right about what he's seeing.

But whatever's suddenly bothering him or reminding him of something is brushed off and he straightens up to collect himself. Then he slicks his hair back and coolly regards me with those hard and charcoal eyes while speaking in his professional tone that he's starting to lose.

"None of this concerns you, Vince. And you'd be doing yourself more of a favour than me if you'd just return to the pathetic life you lived before you met me."

"Why's that?" I ask him, wondering why I'm feeling even more drawn to him than I was before.

"Because you're even more pathetic now," he hisses, unable to contain his control as he steps back and stops at the wall behind him.

And I stop him from going anywhere else after that by grabbing his jaw with my gauntlet and forcing his attention on me.

"Is that a fact?" I ask him while noting that he makes no attempt to struggle as a spiteful air robs him of his dignity. Then I lean closer and watch his eyes turn from charcoal to caution as I lowly growl at him, "Or maybe you're afraid that you might be betraying someone by not pushing me away."

He snorts at me then and turns defiant and hard before he asks in a tone that tells me I'm an idiot, "Is that what you think?"

Then he snickers at me as I back off and debate over whether I should release him or not while he musically taunts, "Leviathan, Vince. Who are you going to accuse me of sleeping with next? Zack? You know, I spent a lot of time with him too. But that's the thing about being a Shinra employee, they have this crazy idea about having their employees working with each other from time to time."

Now he's just being childish, I think, while I give up and loosen my grip. Then he rubs at his jaw and pushes me out of his way so he can make his way up the ladder while I stand there and try to sort things out in my head. He breaks my concentration though, or lack thereof when he makes it to the top and stares down at me with a darkening look and speaks to me in a hollow voice that sounds like he's trying to stop himself from admitting to what he's admitting to.

"Maybe I'm more afraid of you betraying me, Vince."

Then he pulls out his gun and fires at the hinges of the ladder to drop it from the rails and to keep me trapped. Afterwards, he bitterly states with a sickening sense of blame that drips from his tongue like venom as he backs into the shadows that claim him like a vaporous wraith that, "I'm not the monster that was tampered with by Hojo and Lucrecia."

His voice is dead and hollow, and almost hurt. I can't help but think that he's still lying to me because of it while I watch the disquieting darkness like a lifeless pillar of stone, unmoving and abysmal. It leaves me wishing that I could wash away the memories of betrayal that he's stirring in me by his vindictive attempt to drive me away while the last echo of his voice can barely be heard.

"I don't know why I ever thought thanking you was a good idea. You're nothing but an empty shell."

"You're one to talk," I mutter before I take a good look around for another way out.