This chapter dedicated to Quela, and the beautiful, awesome fanart she drew me, because she's an awesome person. Since links aren't allowed within story pages, look her up on devart (as nashidesei) and see the wonderful...ness of it all.
And love to my wonderful beta, who knows grammar better than all in the land! Thank Eva for the coherency in my punctuation, as I couldn't have achieved it without her.
Konitsu
•••
Cloud didn't dare turn, suddenly not trusting himself, wondering if he'd find the sharp angles of Sephiroth's face, those poisonous green eyes, and run right to the man. He couldn't trust himself; how could he after what he'd learned, what he'd remembered? So stupid, so utterly and completely stupid, to not have noticed it before. Something had made him different from the other clones, and failure wasn't enough to enchant Sephiroth and draw his attention to Cloud, and demand Cloud's attention in turn. Without even realizing it they'd danced a waltz around each other, not knowing what it all was really about.
Cloud knew with almost startling certainty that it hadn't been just about sex; neither of them would have allowed it, and Zack would have disapproved besides. Memories came filtering back in a flash, slamming into his brain in the split second after he'd known Sephiroth was in the town. Even worse, the memories were no longer like watching a movie; they'd begun to take on the horrifying tinges of feeling and thought. Cloud didn't just observe that he'd loved Sephiroth, he felt that love.
And he couldn't look at the General, not now, not even with this brilliant flare of hope brought by Holy. If Sephiroth beckoned right now Cloud would follow without a second thought. He'd obey, and he'd obey gladly.
He couldn't help it, and he hated it.
Sparing a glance at Tifa, with her pretty brown eyes and silk-steel personality, Cloud desperately wished he could love her. Wished he could live the life she wanted, deal with Sephiroth without anything but hatred in his soul, and make everything so simple. Cloud's life, unfortunately, had never been content to remain merely 'simple'.
The others were staring at something behind Cloud with a horrified cast to their eyes.
"Why do you continue to challenge me?" Sephiroth asked, sounding calm and almost sane. Cloud had the strange feeling that the question wasn't directed toward him, especially since he'd ceased to challenge Sephiroth as of three minutes ago. The blond kept his back turned, and caught Squall's eyes, the commander still gazing past him in an almost unfocused fashion.
"Why did you kill these people?" Squall whispered hoarsely.
"Sacrifices are necessary."
Sephiroth was talking, stalling; why? He wouldn't have bothered to talk to Squall - Jenova wouldn't let him talk to Squall - if there wasn't a reason behind it. Something was going on that they didn't know about, and Sephiroth was just messing with them. Something, but what?
"Necessary for what?" Quistis, this time.
"My rise!" Cloud could imagine the flamboyantly raised arms that would accompany this proclamation, the dangerous, mad smirk twisting Sephiroth's handsome features. "Mother's rise! The power of humans is only known after they're dead."
But not near enough had been killed here to warrant the triumphant glee in his voice, only one or two judging by the bloodstains and the lack of panic on the part of the SeeDs. What had Sephiroth done?
Spike, I hate to suggest this, but – Sephiroth can read your mind, right?
Cloud paused in his thoughts, startled. In a way, I think that's how it works. I don't know for sure.
Everything goes two ways. Zack sounded pained, as though he knew what something like that would cost Cloud. But it might cost everyone else even more if Cloud didn't do it.
"This planet shall be our glory!"
Cloud closed his eyes and sank back into his mind, back into the dark madness that he usually shied away from at all costs, seeking the hot, painful link that connected him irrevocably to Sephiroth and Jenova. He found it, wrapped his 'mind' around it, and ripped it open to let the searing pain flood into him…and Sephiroth, as well.
Mother Mother Cloud Mother the fools don't know – Garden I will – the heir the heir – Garden kill them all the young ones – Mother –
"Get back!" Cloud screamed through the pain and confusion, hoping that Squall had the sense to know it was directed at him. "Get back to the Garden he's sending things there! He's going to kill –"
Something hard slammed into Cloud's back, knocking the air out of him, and the blond hit the ground in an inelegant sprawl. He rolled just in time to see the Masamune plunge into a crack in the cobblestones, not a finger's length away from his head. Any resemblance to his once-lover Cloud thought he might have seen was shredded completely when he looked up into a face contorted into a snarl of alien rage. This was not Sephiroth, Sephiroth was elsewhere.
Please leave a message after the beep.
Shut up, Zack! Now was really not the right time. Cloud cursed colorfully as he moved his hand to his boot and realized he'd dropped his knife when he'd hit the bench.
He could hear the others running back to the Garden. Good.
Cloud pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the hilt of the Masamune just as Sephiroth was going to yank the sword free of the stone and dirt. Using the weapon as a lever, Cloud hauled himself into a powerful kick, crashing both of his booted feet into Sephiroth's stomach. Sephiroth stumbled backwards a few paces, growling incoherently, and Cloud used the chance to pull the Masamune out of the ground, settling into an attack stance even though the sword was horribly unfamiliar.
Don't use it to block! Zack practically babbled. It's strong, but not as strong as my swords, and if you try to use it as a shield it won't work. Speed is what counts!
Cloud certainly hoped so. He was faster than Sephiroth, just slightly, because of his slighter frame and weight, but the man could make up for the lack with his ability to teleport. Cloud had to keep him in close range so that he wasn't tempted to use the power, and who knows if it'd occur to Sephiroth or Jenova to just teleport in behind him and snap his neck. Instead, the man just glared at him, an eerie, horrible silencing muffling the town now that the others were gone. Cloud stepped forward, and Sephiroth mirrored the movement, nearly smirking. The blond wondered if he should make the first move or wait, no telling which would give him the advantage. Before Cloud could make up his mind, Sephiroth darted forward and Cloud swung the Masamune twice, the movements effective but graceless.
The first slash caught Sephiroth across the chest, scoring deeply and drawing blood, but the second swing jarred abruptly in midair. Sephiroth caught the blade before it hit him, and though the sharp edge gouged deeply into his palm he didn't seem to notice. He pivoted forward and slammed his fist into Cloud's jaw.
Cloud exaggerated the effect it had on him, though the shock that forced him to let go of the Masamune was not faked. He stumbled back a few steps more than necessary, until the back of his knees hit the bench he'd been slammed against earlier. Cloud bent down and scooped up his knife before falling into an attack position, all in one fluid motion.
It was difficult to get under Sephiroth's guard, but that was all that Cloud needed to do. The range of the Masamune was deadly, but marginally less effective in extremely close quarters, and that small benefit might make all the difference. Cloud ducked in, dodging the sweeps of the long blade, attacking the weak point of Sephiroth's stomach, though he was very careful not to do anything deadly. General or no, Cloud didn't know how well Sephiroth would get up from being gutted. Killing him had to be a last resort now.
Cloud would have felt better with Ultima Weapon, but the two were almost evenly matched even with Cloud relatively unarmed. Unfortunately, Sephiroth knew how to take 'almost' and press it to his advantage, outright attacking Cloud less in favor of driving him back, trying to push him into a corner he couldn't dodge out of. Sephiroth could easily pin him down and kill him.
Cloud cut deep into Sephiroth's arm, and the General responded by flipping the Masamune and hitting Cloud on the temple with the hilt hard enough to send his head spinning and vision blurring for the second time that day. As he dodged under another attempt to concuss him, Cloud wondered if he could get brain damage from this sort of treatment.
The brief disorientation was enough of an opportunity for Sephiroth to pin Cloud against one of the quaint brick walls, standing so close the blond could feel his breath. Residual pain from forcing upon the link to Sephiroth still buzzed angrily in Cloud's skull, and short, piercing flairs of pain were now bursting behind his eyes because of the close proximity to Sephiroth. Sephiroth pressed an open palm to Cloud's stomach, and the blond glanced down to see the familiar glow of magic, though he could have sworn Sephiroth didn't have any materia. Agony erupted in Cloud's abdomen and spread to his limbs, the sickening, giant-needled gouges of a lightning spell.
The world fuzzed black around the edges.
Inexplicably, the magic stopped, and Sephiroth's eyes softened to something almost human.
"Cloud."
HandsarmslipswarmthsafetySephirothohSeph…
A split second of confusion, and then heavy, rough lips on his own. Cloud tried to inhale, failed miserably, and then snaked his arms around Sephiroth with some intention of stabbing the man to make him stop. Instead, the hand that wasn't holding the knife tangled itself in thick, silken hair. Long, leather clad fingers curled against Cloud's neck to yank him forward.
This is fucked up, Cloud told himself as manner-of-factly as he could manage.
And then Sephiroth was gone.
Cloud collapsed to his knees in a mixture of pain and confusion.
"Cloud!" Tifa. When had she gotten here? Had she even left with the others? How much did she see?
Probably more than enough, Zack said grimly.
•••
Squall decided that he was just having one of those 'I woke up and everything has gone to shit without my noticing' days, except to a horrifying, exponential degree. Rinoa couldn't have waited until tomorrow to break it off? Vincent couldn't not be a…whatever the hell Vincent was? And now Zell was pissed at him for giving the order to withdrawal from Balamb, and it was only SeeD protocol that kept Zell from telling Squall to kiss his ass and running back to town, Squall knew. He glanced back over his shoulder as they pounded across the beach, assessing the moods of his other comrades as best he could.
Quistis was too pale and limping slightly. Selphie's expression was a familiar one; it promised death to whatsoever got in her way. Irvine looked… completely all right, or, at least, as close to all right as Squall had ever seen Irvine really get. The commander would ask him about his calm, later, if any of them could find the time.
"How do we know he's not lying?" Zell shouted to him as the approached the Garden, anger making his voice taut. Squall knew what he meant – 'how do I know I didn't just leave Ma behind for no damned reason?'
"We don't," Squall replied as the group halted in front of the lobby entrance, waiting for him to input the door access codes. "We can't afford to treat Strife like a liar." Even if he probably was.
But if he wasn't lying, if that silver haired psychopath had truly sent an attack against Squall's Garden, there would be hell to pay and then some. The SeeDs there could handle themselves, of course, but there were students, kids just starting out their training who could barely hold their own against each other, much less a mutated, near invincible freak of nature. And if any one of them were hurt, Squall was going to take great pleasure in killing something.
Still, Strife might be leading them on for some reason. Highwind and Valentine had followed the SeeDs back to Garden, leaving Cloud and Lockheart alone with Sephiroth. What if Squall's limited people skills really had read Strife wrong? What if the blond was in some sort of twisted pact with Sephiroth, and they were all currently screwing themselves and Balamb over? Too many variables, way too many things that could go horribly wrong, but he couldn't risk the safety of his Garden, not against anything.
Not even against the safety of Zell's mother and neighbors, and wouldn't that be a thing to explain later?
The lobby was far too quiet, the same eerie silence that had blanketed the town now gagging the reception room of Garden. Squall frowned. Where were the students, the SeeDs, Rinoa? His heart quickened in fear. Rinoa, was she all right? She could fight, and she certainly had an impressive cadre of spells at her disposal, but she would never be as good as the rest of them, didn't have the killer's touch. Would she be okay? Squall might not be dating her anymore, but he was still her knight, would always be her knight. It was practically imperative to his being that he protect her and he had to go find her right now…
But Garden came first, he reminded himself sternly, no matter what the Sorceress-Knight 'rules' said.
"Irvine, Valentine –" Squall hesitated. Could he really trust Valentine with anything, after having seen Chaos? No time to question it, he'd have to rely on the man and ask questions later. "Round up any of the students you can find and take them to the largest classroom, you'll be able to protect them there. The rest of you, make sweeps of the Garden. Kill anything that doesn't belong here, direct students to the classroom, and offer SeeDs aid." He exhaled, thought for a moment. "If you find Rinoa, send her to the classroom, too. Tell her she's not to fight; I don't care what she says." He'd keep her safe, no matter what she thought of him now.
Zell was staring at him expectantly. "Squall," he said through clenched teeth.
"We'll return to Balamb after we secure Garden," Squall told him, "and we'll make sure everyone there is…all right." 'Alive' probably wouldn't have been the best choice of words.
Zell nodded.
Squall dashed off down one of the long hallways toward the dorms, hoping he'd find anyone holed up there before there was any real damage. The sounds of fighting slowly filtered through the corridors to him, and a few of the SeeDs he passed in the halls sketched hasty salutes. Mostly they seemed to be fighting escapees from the training center, but something had to have let those free. A scream pierced the air, and Squall slammed open the door to the girl's shower room.
One of the students, a girl he vaguely recognized from some of Quistis's classes, was backed up in the sharp corner between sinks and hair dryers, holding up one bloodied arm. In front of her stalked one of the mutants, its belly to the floor. This one looked to be modeled on a hunting cat of some sort, spikes of bone protruding from its joints and neck, and a tail split into three lashing, twisting limbs, each tipped with a deadly looking barb. Squall quickly cast a low level lightning spell on the creature, a quick bit of magic that distracted it just long enough for the girl to dive out of the way. The commander grabbed her uninjured arm.
"Get to the second floor classroom, Irvine will be there. Take any of the other students you find," he ordered, and she ran off.
The cat's long claws left gouges in the tile as it sprang at him, and Squall dodged to the side, delivering a large gash to the creature's flank as he did so. It crouched again, bringing its tails up, the barbs glistening. With speed that shouldn't have been surprising, but was, it drew back its tails and then lashed them forward, the barbs flinging toward Squall. He held up his gunblade, deflecting two on the shining metal, but one sliced deeply into his neck before embedding itself into the wall behind him. He really, really hoped they weren't poisonous
It took him a few moments to charge up a higher level fire spell, moments in which he had to dodge the cat twice, and managed to score another deep cut, this one on its underbelly. After the second leap, before it could turn back around to face him, Squall lashed out with a fierce kick, catching the creature under its hindlegs and flipping it over onto its back. The fire spell practically sang as he cast it, and the animal's unprotected, already wounded belly was engulfed in the magic in mere seconds. After the flames died down, Squall checked to make sure it was dead, and then left the washroom.
Well, at least Strife wasn't a liar.
•••
After a few moments of tense silence, Tifa found her voice. "What was he doing?"
Cloud stared up at her, blue eyes slightly clouded. "He knows that the SeeD are his biggest opposition, he wanted to wipe out their base when Squall was distracted. The extra deaths would add to this planet's life stream, too."
Standard operating procedure for Sephiroth, but Cloud had to know that wasn't the question she was asking. Things had always been strange with Cloud, especially when Sephiroth was concerned. The admiration bordering on devotion, the obsessive need on both their parts, that twisted control…but it had all been wrong, sick, depraved. None of it was something Cloud could actually embrace, was it? She knew Cloud had problems, but that went right out of the realm of 'problem' and into 'dangerous'.
She'd stayed behind in case he needed help, ready to interfere in the fight despite the fact that Sephiroth could, and had, crushed her without even thinking about it. But she'd been waiting until Cloud was in real trouble, and that was her mistake. If she hadn't waited so long this wouldn't have happened, this shouldn't have happened. Cloud needed something stable, something normal and warm, something that Tifa could give him. But what if he didn't want that? It was wrong to try to force him into something, especially considering the guilt complex she knew he had.
But whatever she 'forced' him into, it would be better than Sephiroth.
And he probably knew that. As long as Tifa had known Cloud he'd been desperate to give of himself to please others, desperate to do anything he could to please her specifically. He'd love her if he could, and she knew it. Who was she to be so damned selfish when he had this thing with Sephiroth hanging over his head?
Tifa walked over, dropped to her knees, and wrapped her arms around Cloud. "It's all right."
"Tifa, I'm sorry." He sounded so very far away. "I didn't even remember, or I would have told you, I promise. And it's so hard, and I know you love me and I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," she whispered, smoothing down his hair as if he were a child. "None of it was ever your fault."
Not the bridge, not her father, not the burning, not Aeris, not the black materia, not his feelings for Tifa extending to nothing beyond friendship. He tried so damn hard, and gave everything he had; none of them had any right to demand anything more of him. They all wanted him to be stronger than he was, when he was impossibly strong already. A miracle ten times over that he hadn't permanently self destructed.
Tifa kissed Cloud gently on his forehead, the only kiss she'd ever ask of him ever again. It wasn't his fault, and it wasn't hers either. All she could do now was help him through this and hope the outcome didn't destroy him completely.
Knowing that didn't make letting him go hurt any less.
•••
Rinoa sat on the teacher's desk at the front of the room, alternately chanting cure spells over the students and protection spells over Irvine and Vincent. Something was wrong beyond the monsters; she'd have been an idiot not to have seen it. Vincent was far too tense, from what little she knew of the man, and Irvine had whispered 'we'll tell you later' into her ear before he'd gone to lean out an open window and snipe at aerial beasts. All she could do know was wait and help. However, she was more than a little angry at Squall; for him treating her like a child and having her locked up in this classroom for her own protection as if she couldn't fight.
So what if she didn't like it, if the fierce joy the SeeDs took in battling and killing sickened her to see, even in her friends. She could still defend herself and others, and was more than powerful enough. She was a Sorceress in everything but power lust and name; she should be out there fighting, too. But Squall was, and she supposed always would be, her Knight, and duty bound to see her safely through everything, even if he wasn't her boyfriend anymore. That had been the hardest thing she'd ever done, which was saying a lot. She loved Squall, really she did, but it was part of love to know when staying together was hurting more than helping. Still, Rinoa wished there had been a way to work it out.
More than that she wished he'd shown some indication that he even cared she'd just broken up with him. She'd take no pleasure in his pain, but with all the hurt she was feeling, it might have been soothing to know it was mutual, that he cared about her enough to hurt for the loss of her. Selfish and needy, true, but simply human all the same. Rinoa kept telling herself that it was simply Squall's way of coping, but logic very rarely had a say in this sort of emotional problem. Why was he such a jerk? Such a brave, wonderful, smart jerk?
It would be easier now to hate him, but she just couldn't.
She was very tempted to go over to Irvine right now and ask him how he and Selphie managed it, as if there were some shareable secret to making a relationship work. Maybe there was, and no one had bothered to tell her in the recent chaos of her life. More likely it was simply denied to her family; after all, she and her father did seem to suffer from a complete inability to communicate with each other.
Rinoa cast another shield spell over Irvine just in time for the magic to deflect the flare of a fire spell from outside. At least in here she was useful, and cheered herself up slightly by knowing that she'd saved a few of the student's limbs, if not lives. It felt good to be needed, to know she was doing something important to help. That urge was part of the reason she'd formed the Timber Owls, slightly dysfunctional rebel group though they had been. Rinoa smiled crookedly, remembering how the relatively simple days of the Timber Owls had seemed so important and complicated at the time, a great big mission.
Timber was free now, Galbadia unable to hold onto its conquered lands in the aftermath of the Sorceress crisis and the new attacks from Sephiroth. Rinoa's goal had been achieved at last, but not by the means she would have liked. Train hijacking and botched kidnappings aside, Rinoa had always hoped for a peaceful revolution, one carried to the masses on television waves and implemented with as little bloodshed as possible. She was an idealist at heart, and she knew it. It would be nice to go back to Timber now, to see it free and help it stand on the shaky legs of independence, to do something really worth while again.
But could she leave them? She loved them all, Squall especially, and he'd been the force tying her here for so long. How could she get on without Selphie's games or Quistis's quiet, sage advice? Irvine's flirting or Zell's exuberance? How could she ever get on without Squall? It seemed impossible. But she loved Zone and Watts, too, and the people of Timber. Home was where you made it, where you dug out a place for yourself in the hearts of people and were content to stay there, warm and sheltered. Garden didn't feel like home anymore, and if she cared to admit it, it hadn't felt like home to her for a very long time. Did that make her a bad person, she wondered.
The minutes crawled by, and gradually everything descended into quiet. Guns no longer boomed at the door and window; no one screamed in pain or battle fury out in the halls; the growling and yelping of monsters tapered off and ceased. It was over, whatever it had been, but Rinoa had the sinking feeling they'd only entered the eye of the storm.
•••
Irvine holed himself up in the weapons storage room, having obtained permission from a significantly paled Squall to clean and organize the deadly clutter. He knew what the others would be doing: Squall was most certainly brooding; Quistis would be drinking her own weight in coffee; Zell killing things in the training center; Rinoa (sweet, oblivious Rinoa) searching desperately for answers no one wanted to give; his own Selphie would be cheerfully playing that nothing was amiss. Irvine didn't want to imagine nothing had happened, but he didn't want to dwell on it, either, he just wanted something to do with his hands. Busy work, to keep him calm and occupied, to keep him from babbling his head off to the nearest available victim, keep him from digging out that almost forgotten pack of cigarettes and a case of beer.
Cleaning the pistols was easy, almost the first thing he'd ever learned to do. He, unlike the others, even retained hazy memories of before the orphanage, and he'd known how to clean guns then, too. Small, grubby hands making sure that nothing would ever go wrong, handing the weapons off to a woman he supposed he should recognize, but she'd gone all blurry in his head. Irvine might not lose his memories to anything but nature, but that was enough.
Damn it, he'd liked Vincent Valentine. Irvine hadn't been about to declare them bosom-buddies or anything, but he'd gotten used to the creep-factor of the other man, and found that a quiet sort of understanding grew between them. Irvine didn't think Vincent was absolutely bug fuck, and Valentine didn't think Irvine was completely incompetent, so it worked out well.
And he still liked Vincent Valentine.
Quistis, painfully logical Quistis who'd been taught through time and trial that emotions - the emotions telling her that Vincent was no different, no less suspect (for whatever that was worth) than he'd been yesterday - were something to be kept far, far away from the SeeD uniform, couldn't tear her conceptions of Vincent away from that…thing. Nobody else particularly wanted to.
Irvine knew how to clean and load a gun at the age of five, knew how to make sure daggers wouldn't rust and how to clean the blood off of a sword. Irvine had been born among fighting and hadn't left death behind him for any significant time in his life, except for that halcyon dream of the orphanage that somehow seemed less real than the memories painted in violence. Irvine knew about monsters, especially the ones that lived burrowed in the souls of people.
So what if Valentine's monsters were a little more vocal than everyone else's? If anything, it made the man more honest. When everyone could see exactly what you could do pissed off, there wasn't much use in pretending Sainthood.
Irvine knew about pretending, too. That was what they taught in Galbadia. Smile and nod and pretend you're going to a picnic, not to splatter out some guy's brains just because he pissed off someone with money. Twenty push ups if you look guilty about it.
And damn, but they'd stared in the face of bitch ass pure as fuck evil today. Irvine considered Valentine's strange quirks the least of their worries. Sephiroth, Jenova, Cloud, whoever they had to worry about, they should worry about it, and stop making side trips into 'but he grew wings'.
Irvine figured that if his burrowed little soul monster manifested, it would have wings, too.
"Irvine?"
Selphie's voice startled him so much that he nearly dropped the six shooter he'd been holding. He turned to her and gave the best smile he could manage, considering the circumstances.
"Hey sweetheart," he drawled, pretending nothing was bothering him for her sake.
Damn, but sometimes he could swear he was in love with Selphie. Not that love was a foreign emotion to Irvine Kinneas; he just…liked sleeping around with everything that 'was warm and had a hole', as one of his Galbadian instructors had so charmingly put it. He didn't do that anymore, couldn't bring himself to.
"You know," Selphie remarked, eerily calm, "I didn't even realize this room existed. I got all my weapons from Trabia, or in the field."
"Which reminds me!" They both needed the distraction, and this seemed the perfect time. "I got you a present."
He'd never bought Selphie flowers, though he was sure she'd enjoy them. Flowers were for people like the girls from town, girls like Rinoa, girls who were still mirrored in the softness of the petals, who smelled like perfume instead of metal, death and gunpowder.
She smiled, her strange quiet evaporating. "Really?"
"Nope," he teased, sauntering over to her and poking a finger into her forehead, grinning as she went cross eyed. "I lied. Of course really."
She grabbed his hand and pulled it down into hers, delicate little fingers almost strong enough to snap his own.
"Where is it?" She demanded, bouncing on her feet. "Where is it, where is it?"
"Close your eyes," he commanded, extracting his hand from her grip and walking across the room to grab something off one of the tables before coming back to her and placing it in her hands.
"Ooooh!" She cooed as she held up the nunchaku, eyes shining. "Irvine, it's beautiful!"
"It's not as powerful as Strange Vision," he told her, almost apologetically, "but you're always complaining it's a waste to use such a powerful weapon on everything you see, and I saw this one and thought you'd like it."
The nunchaku really did remind him of Selphie; though it was a wonder anyone had thought to make a sparkly yellow weapon. There was more than one Selphie populating SeeD, it seemed.
She placed the weapon on the nearest table and pounced on him, laughing when he stumbled backwards under her weight as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She took the cowboy hat off his head and threw it onto the table with the weapon.
"It's great!" She declared, and kissed his nose. "I love it!"
Maybe he did love her. Maybe he could only love a girl who could sneak up behind a guy and snap his neck with the chains of her flail before he even knew what hit him, maybe he could only love a girl who'd seen him kill, seen him half dead, seen him cry because he thought the world was going to end and it was a damn fine time for crying.
She had a monster in her soul, beneath exuberance and cheer, and he loved that monster, too.
He carried her slim weight over to the table, sat her down next to a cowboy hat with bloodstains on the brim and a sparkly yellow nunchaku.
"I love you," he whispered into her hair, smiling, and then titled her face up to kiss her before she could ask him if he really meant it.
Remind me I'm human, he begged her silently. Remind me that we're warm, and alive, and the monsters haven't won us all, not yet.
And Selphie understood.