A/N: Slightly shorter chapter this time, everybody, but it's a doozy! I won't waste too much of your time, but super thanks to BMIK, Nat-Nat and PsychoSteph for being awesome! Also thanks to Elspeth for the great review! I hope you all enjoy. And be sure to leave your comments at the end! From here on out, the awesome will be unrelenting. I hope.
P.S. This was not my most clearly written chapter, so I apologize. I hope you will all be able to make your ways through it!
Chapter Eleven
"You like me!" Loz crowed gleefully to the world in general. Technically, he was proclaiming it to Yazoo, as there wasn't anything else nearby to hear, but the elder of the brothers was more likely to tolerate the exclamation if it wasn't terribly well aimed. The soft growl that answered from Yazoo pulled a soft snicker from the smaller clone, and he skipped forward a little on the uneven ground to pull even with the blank-faced man. He was on his blind side, and Yazoo's pale eye glimmered through a fall of white-silver hair, glinting brighting in the sunlight. Loz couldn't help but be in an excellent mood. "You can't deny it. You carried me. For a distance." Yazoo's blind eye flickered briefly.
"I do not 'like' you," he insisted firmly, but Loz could tell it was a lie. It wasn't even a good lie. "It was simply a necessity There is nothing more to it."
"Yes there is," Loz replied cheerfully as he managed to trip on a rock, to preoccupied bouncing beside his taller brother to bother with such trivial things as terrain. "It's cause you like me! Branch." Yazoo lifted a hand and snapped the branch off the moment he touched it, shooting Loz a significant look as he did so, as though to imply he wished it was his little brother. Loz just smirked back until his brother walked into the next branch, then laughed gaily as he jerked and spluttered briefly. Then the coldness revived in his eyes and Loz found himself pinned with that look of condescending distaste, and the cheer faded somewhat.
"Sorry," he muttered. "If you weren't mean, I'd have warned you." Yazoo's eyes narrowed.
"If you weren't being annoying, I would have noticed," he scoffed evenly, not a trace of anger in his voice. It was much worse than anger. He sounded like Loz wasn't worth anger. Loz briefly wondered if he could get Yazoo to walk into a tree in revenge, then just settled for hanging his head and sniffling. It was hard to remember that he wasn't supposed to be angry at Yazoo all the time. It was a reflex. He trusted Mama Strife, in that if she said Yazoo loved him, Yazoo loved him, but surely it wouldn't hurt the meanie to show it once in a while. He clenched his teeth and stalked away.
He felt kind of like an idiot wearing the makeshift sling that held his arm against his chest, but it made it hurt less, and reminded him he wasn't supposed to use the arm. The bag on his shoulders was an unfamiliar and uncomfortable weight, and he was certain he wasn't carrying it as easily as Yazoo appeared to shoulder his own added burden. Yazoo had an obnoxious habit of being cool while he was doing anything, and it turned out shouldering a duffel bag was no different. He made an art of indifference. Fortunately, with his ability to see the landscape, Loz still had an advantage, and could stay ahead of Yazoo while he tried to regain his temper, certain that Mama Strife would object to him strangling his older brother with his own hair.
He stroked a hand down the front of his leather top, reveling in the feel of the built-in ridges under his fingers, and the way it hugged his frame. He found the touch of it immensely comforting, though he would have gladly kept the borrowed clothes on if it meant staying with Mama. Not that he would have been able to anyway. Yazoo obviously couldn't have stayed with her, because his answer to anything strange was to kill it, and Mama Strife was most definitely strange. Much though he disliked it, Loz knew very well that Yazoo needed him, whether he would admit it or not, and he had spoken without thought, as usual, in telling him so. It never occurred to him that he was basically giving Yazoo a weapon to use against him, and now that he thought about it, he was surprised Yazoo hadn't yet. Of course, he also knew that Yazoo had carried him, so they both kind of had weapons against one another. Loz wondered briefly if this was one of those things that people were supposed to come to silent agreements over, about not using it against each other, then shrugged and glanced over his shoulder at his slightly slower, blind brother. Yazoo was, as usual, staring fixedly at him, but instantly looked away as though with disinterest upon having his gaze returned. Loz snickered softy.
"Better hurry up, Yaz," he sneered, "or I'll have to carry you." Yazoo's gaze returned to him, and Loz thought it might have been his imagination, but for an instant, it looked like his brother had smirked at the comment as his eyes flashed, rather than scowled.
"You couldn't," the elder said smoothly, his gaze once again unwaveringly fixed on Loz. "Remember? You had to get Angeal to." Loz gasped softly in amazement at the words, then scowled viciously and stopped, putting his hands on his hips and glaring down at his brother, who was below him for once only thanks to the steep incline they were both climbing.
"That's not funny!" he snapped fiercely. Yazoo didn't stop to face off with him, and a soft chuckle slid past his parted lips, his eyes flashing again as he fixed Loz with a look. Loz wasn't sure what the look was supposed to mean, but it pissed him off, and he crossed his arms without thought, yelping softly in pain as that put pressure on the monstrous, if no longer infected, cut. Yazoo drew even with him and passed by with a smug look as Loz glared daggers at him, daring him to comment on the move.
"Shut up," he snapped, even though Yazoo hadn't actually said anything. He'd thought it really loudly. He followed the older boy even as he spoke. "You can't cross your arms either."
With an air of supreme superiority, Yazoo crossed his arms and glanced back at Loz out of eyes narrowed with self-satisfaction. Loz snarled at him and cast his gaze to the ground to look for a rock or something to throw at his brother. Right as his gaze landed on a perfectly-sized stick, Yazoo tripped on a sharp rise in the path and slid a couple inches back on the hill, his face darkening in annoyance. Loz abandoned his abusive plan of retaliation and grinned before sauntering past Yazoo as he picked himself up off the ground. As he walked, he made extra sure to shoot the elder boy his best impression of the 'smug meanie' look. He heard Yazoo growl behind him, but the older boy didn't respond. For the first time in a long time, and with considerable relish, Loz mentally added a tally mark to his score, and took one off Yazoo's. Not that he was actually keeping score. If he had been it would have been a depressingly uneven battle. It was just a nice mental image.
He barely noticed when he started humming again. Now that Yazoo was following him silently, his working eye no doubt fixed on his feet as he tried to judge the landscape he couldn't see, Loz was free to look around a little, his curiosity with his brother's motivations put on hold for the moment in deference to the fact that they were in a new place. Loz grew bored easily, but the mountains were interesting. While he was well aware that Nibelheim was high up in the real world, or at least had been before Sephiroth wiped it off the map, the infamous chill of the air was absent in this version of the mountains. The unused path they were climbing was overgrown with newly-sprouted growth and small trees attempting to make a name for themselves. The rest of the trail was dotted with half-rotten leaves, and Loz tilted his head, wondering if the life stream had seasons, and giggling at the idea before falling back into his tuneless hum. A dark spot to one side of them drew his attention and he turned his head with honest curiosity to study the hole in the rock.
"Woah," he muttered, "hey, Yazoo, look! A cave!" Yazoo growled a little behind him, and Loz glanced back to see Yazoo sending him an annoyed look.
"Fascinating," he said dryly.
"You didn't even look," Loz muttered. Yazoo's glare re-doubled, and Loz's eyes widened in realization before he giggled. "Oh. Uh, oops?" he offered through the laugh, trying not to outright guffaw as Yazoo stumbled slightly again. His elder brother only growled again and went back to watching his feet. Once he was safely being ignored again, Loz, glanced once more at the cave before walking on, still snickering to himself and pretending he hadn't actually forgotten Yazoo couldn't see. Before he could ponder whether to add back Yazoo's point on the tally over the lapse in his memory, he forced his attention back to the surrounding world.
His hearing wasn't great, but he could pick up the sounds of bird song around them, and the occasional rustle of something small darting into the bushes. Off the path, where the woods had been allowed to grow wild for years, bushes grew as tall as small trees, and certainly taller than Loz. There were a lot of different kinds, but Loz's favorites were the ones with flowers like little orange spots of fire. It was a weird place, and certainly not what Loz would have expected for what should have been a tense and scary escape, though he wasn't entirely sure who they were escaping. The spots of sunlight that wormed their way through the trees' canopy above them gave the whole world leopard spots, Loz's leather coat included, and made him smile just a little.
He liked the sun and always had, ever since he had climbed out of the Northern Crater's mouth, with an unconscious Turk over each shoulder and his Tenshi before him. The moment he'd seen the light scatter off his beloved brother's silver hair, and warm the tone of his skin he'd adored it. It had been kind of creepy, how they all looked slightly blue and inhuman underneath the crater's perpetual clouds, and it had been cold to boot. The sun's warmth and light drew him as much as any call for reunion, and he had downright basked, right up until Yazoo had shot him that death-glare and jerked his chin, ordering Loz to follow without speaking to him once. Loz couldn't help but frown a little at that memory of that casual order.
Since day one, moment one, Yazoo had looked at him with disdain and dislike, and the fact that he now seemed bearable didn't change the fact that it stung. If there was a reason, Loz still didn't understand it. He had always done with the willowy boy told him to, and had only gotten him in trouble that once when he helped Elena—he flinched and reminded himself he wasn't supposed to know her name—the Turks escape. Yazoo had already hated him at that point anyhow. The warm, fond looks he sent towards Kadaj, even when he wasn't looking, had made Loz's stomach twist in jealousy. He'd imagined, at the time, that Kadaj liked Yazoo better too, but now he wasn't so sure. He stopped humming for a moment to lick his lips as he considered, and smiled again when he tasted traces of dirt, not because it was a pleasant taste, but because it was a familiar one.
He glanced back to Yazoo, found him, indeed, watching where he himself was stepping so intensely that he didn't even notice the fact that he was being checked on, and decided he was safe to ponder for a little while without being teased fiercely for it. There was something bothering him about the way the three of them had always interacted. He wasn't an expert on people or anything, but Elena—the turk, he corrected himself sharply—had said that he was different, with a thoughtful look on her battered face. He lifted his good hand to the side of his face, where she had touched him briefly before he let them both go, and knew that one day the jaw under his hand would be stronger and more masculine, if it was possible to grow up in the life stream and he wasn't stuck as a child forever. He didn't know, exactly, what was different about him, but he was starting to have an inclination. Of the three of them, he was the only one who had wanted to not hurt the Turks, or felt bad for taking people's homes, or for kidnapping the kids. Not as bad as he knew people were supposed to feel for doing horrible things, but bad enough for Yazoo to snap at him and Kadaj to laugh derisively at his tears. Now that he was thinking about it, in fact, he was starting to believe that for being made of the same base material, he and his two brothers were very different people.
He hummed softly to himself again, liking the way the sound rumbled lightly through his throat, and tilting his head as he walked. It was a strange thought, but as he looked back on their short lives, he was starting to wonder if, perhaps, Kadaj hadn't liked either of them too much. Certainly, he had turned to Yazoo when he needed comforting, and hadn't outright been mean to Loz, but when choosing between mother and his two brothers, he always chose mother, and when Yazoo had admitted that the Turks were gone, Kadaj had slapped him really hard. Not to mention that both of them had to do whatever he said. In retrospect, he wondered why he had. It had seemed, at the time, like Kadaj had all the answers, because there was so much of mother in him, but he had still been scared when she screamed, and had still turned to Yazoo for comfort.
Which, really, meant he probably had liked them. He'd even sparred with Loz for fun! Only once, but that once was enough for Loz to adore him forever. His eyes had been so bright, and the smile on his face dazzlingly wide with enjoyment. Loz would have been toast in the fight if Yazoo hadn't decided to even the odds. It was, in retrospect, the only time he remembered being happy, and it had crashed to a halt when mother's call had pulled Kadaj from them once more. Loz froze in his steps as he remembered the moment, and turned slowly to look back at Yazoo.
His brother noticed the lag in his step, and looked up at him with an amused curiosity brightening his uneven gaze, and Loz swallowed. He could read Yazoo better now, he realized, and what he had taken at that moment, as Kadaj turned away from them again, for a look of disgust on his now-older brother's face struck a different chord in him in retrospect. The faint downturn of his lips, and the light in his then-matching eyes—the way his nostrils flared just a little and his eyebrows twitched... Loz looked down at Yazoo in a faint horror as realization struck. Yazoo's eyes narrowed, and he glanced behind him, as though making sure Loz wasn't looking past him.
"...What?" the elder asked rather coldly, after deciding he was, indeed, the object of his younger brother's attention.
"You were sad..." Loz muttered before he could even think to censor himself. "You were so sad..." One of Yazoo's eyebrows inched upwards before he rolled his eyes and straightened from the defensive crouch he'd dropped into, sauntering over. Loz wondered how far they'd been walking as he noticed the limp in Yazoo's gait that hadn't been there the last time he checked.
"You're delirious again," Yazoo drawled as he approached, his posture relaxed once more and a little amused quirk to his lips. Loz wasn't amused. He was downright miserable. He could feel it building in his throat and behind his eyes. He'd thought he was alone in being saddened by what mother did to Kadaj, and the whole time, Yazoo had felt the same way. As Yazoo stepped up right beside him, the smirk fell away to be replaced by a look of what appeared to be confusion as Loz continued to stare at him in amazement and slight horror. All he could see on that passive face was the memory of how it had looked twisted ever so slightly in sadness--the way his eyes had swiveled to look at him, with what, at that point, had been an expression completely beyond his understanding. Now it looked, in the light of retrospect, like pain.
When he didn't answer, Yazoo shrugged and kept walking, his limp not so pronounced that it damaged his progress, and some of the swagger back in his step. Loz watched his unstable walk and felt his heart breaking. He'd been so busy feeling alone, and hating that he wasn't the important one, and all along... If he'd offered Yazoo something then, commiserated with him instead of walking away, how different would it have been? What if everything could have been averted? Maybe if the two of them had worked together, they could even have kept Kadaj safe.
The first tears fell from his eyes without him even noticing. It wasn't his fault, he knew. At least not entirely. If Yazoo wanted help, he should have asked for help, and if he wanted comfort he could have offered Loz some, but the fact that it had been there in him... Loz sobbed softly, watching the sway of his elder brother's hair, and caught the jerk of the taller clone's body as he whipped back around to look at him--saw the way his eyes darted over his form as he checked for injury, and his heart broke a little further. If he was wrong about how Yazoo felt about Kadaj, maybe... maybe Yazoo hadn't hated him until Loz started it. The elder boy's frown would have been comical at another time. There was an air of perplexed frustration that didn't suit the confident man in the least.
"What is it this time?" he asked, but Loz couldn't bring himself to snap back--couldn't even bring himself to reply. He just stood there staring at his brother, and wondering if Yazoo had felt as alone as Loz himself had. Yazoo heaved an exasperated sigh and moved so quickly Loz didn't have time to object, his pale, bare hand pressing lightly against Loz's forehead as he knelt before him on one knee. Loz blinked, and felt his eyes widen. Yazoo's skin was warm to the touch, and smooth as ivory, and so very alive. It was easy to forget, sometimes, Loz was starting to realize, that there was a person underneath the leather coat and cool glances.
"You don't have a fever," Yazoo pronounced, pulling his hand away from Loz's forehead again and tilting his head, eyes narrowing and lips pressing together in a thin line as he observed him. Loz couldn't remember ever seeing Yazoo intentionally so close to him, and had to fight the urge to reach a hand up and explore the smooth contours of his brother's still young and overly-jaded face. Instead, he swallowed, and pulled back a little, watching his elder brother's eyebrows raise.
"I know," he said softly, wincing a little when his voice came out higher than he had intended. "You don't have to make yourself touch me, you know." Yazoo stared at him, an his head slowly tilted to the side. Loz squirmed a little under the intense study, but he stopped when Yazoo's gaze lifted to his eyes again. Their gazes locked together, and Loz didn't get distracted by studying his brother's blindness this time. It wasn't the eyes that was important. It was what was in them.
As they respectively stood and knelt there, only a scant few feet apart, Loz became aware of the fact that they were looking at each other--really looking at each other--for the first time he could remember. Not a curious glance, or a casual study, but a true look. At the same time, he felt something stir in his chest, and suddenly he didn't have to wonder what Yazoo was feeling, because he knew. He knew that his own gaze would mirror that confused warmth. But even more important was the study was what he suddenly felt behind it. Yazoo's face hadn't moved in the slightest, and his posture remained unchanged, but it was like staring at an optical illusion when suddenly it pops and you understand. As Loz looked at him, he saw for the first time that his brother loved him. Not in any earth-shattering unheard of way. It wasn't like he was the only person his brother cared about--there was Kadaj to consider--but he did care.
Then something changed. The very air around them seemed to thicken, and Loz suddenly found himself unable to draw a breath, his breath widening in fear in the same moment as Yazoo jerked, his head whipping around to look uphill and to the left. Then, before he could think, Loz had been lifted, and found himself held against his elder brother's chest as Yazoo all but flew back down the mountain, the way they had come, his footing startlingly sure as they retraced their path, Loz clung to his shoulder, his wide eyes fixed on the mountain above them, feeling something horrible twisting over the rocky path behind them, searching them out.
He whimpered in fear, watching the trees warp behind them, and trying to hide more thoroughly in front of Yazoo. He glanced up, cautiously, to find that Yazoo's gaze was focused before them, but Loz realized that he couldn't see the wilderness around them reflected in his eyes, and knew that Yazoo was running on memory alone. He tightened his grip unconsciously.
As quickly as their flight had begun, Yazoo slowed to a brisk walk, both of his hands still wrapped around Loz, and his grip on the boy firm.
"Loz," he said, his voice breathless and strained, "where is the cave you saw before?" Loz lifted his head from Yazoo's chest wearily, still feeling like he was moving through molasses, and his body starting to shake. As he glanced around, he realized that Yazoo had brought them all the way back to where he had laid eyes on the abnormality, and pointed in the cave's direction with a shaking hand. Yazoo required no further prompting, and strode off the path, his feet crunching in the leaves below them. A distant part of Loz, not stunned and gasping by the lingering effects of the horrible presence, wondered if Yazoo could hear his footsteps. Then, suddenly, he found himself being set carefully on the ground, and locked his knees, staring up at Yazoo with stunned, frightened eyes, and not releasing the grip he had on his his brother's leather coat.
Yazoo didn't make him let go, and lifted his hands to cup Loz's cheeks, his face grim and set, and both of his eyes bright with intensity. Loz couldn't think clearly enough to pull away, or wonder why he was being touched. He just melted in the contact, staring into his brother's intense eyes as they flickered between him and the direction of the twisting presence further up the mountain. Loz still couldn't catch his breath. He could feel it getting closer...
"Loz," Yazoo's voice still sounded strangely strained, but there was a firm edge to it, that drew Loz's eyes back to him and away from the mountainside, "go inside the cave, and stay out of sight."
"But," Loz breathed, glancing up the mountain again.
"He won't find you," Yazoo said, and Loz shuddered under his brother's hands, his fists clenching in their grip, pulling a soft creak from the leather they held. "Go inside, and stay there. Don't come out until I come back for you." Loz pulled on the leather in his hold
"No," he whispered, though there was no force behind it. He had the sinking feeling that whatever twisted the world up there would rip Yazoo to shreds. "No, stay with me, we can..." a gentle finger alighting on his lips halted his words, and he jerked his gaze back to his brother from where it had, once more, been fixed behind him.
"No time," Yazoo whispered, and the fear was gone from his voice. There was only resolution. "Hide, Loz. I'll come back for you." Before Loz could object again, he was pulled into a firm hug, pressed against his brother's chest, and found himself hiding his face in Yazoo's neck before he could think. For that one moment, he thought it really might be okay. Then Yazoo released him, gave him a little shove backwards, and dropped his duffel bag before turning and running, all but disappearing on the mountainside in a flicker of silver.
Loz stood outside the cave for a long moment, with a pit of sickening fear in his stomach, but Yazoo's order was too clear in his head for him to ignore. He grabbed the bag and ran back into the darkness of the cave. He ducked into the first nook he came across and dropped the book bag from his shoulders to fall to the ground, curling his knees up to his chest and staring out of the cave, his breath coming in harsh gasps as the oppressive presence bore down on him, and tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared into the darkness of the caves, waiting for whatever horrible thing it was to come after him.
~*~*~*~*
When he showed up, Yazoo had stopped running a long time ago, and stood, swaying, on the path, staring in his direction with dazed eyes. His body was trembling, all but begging him to give in under the immense power of his existence and proximity. Instead, he stood as still as he could, and watched his doom approach, forcing himself not to cry or scream, his impassive mask trembling at the edges. He didn't bother approaching quickly. He strode towards him evenly, his pale hair billowing in the light behind him, and equally pale eyes shining, the black coat twisting in the wake of his powerful stride. Yazoo tried to speak, and found his mouth too dry. He swallowed, and tried again.
"Hello, Sephiroth," he greeted in a rasp. Sephiroth's eyes narrowed slightly, and what looked like a pleased smile crossed those perfect bowed lips, sending him into a look of the utmost pleasure.
"Hello," the man purred as he closed the remaining distance between them and a gloved hand raised to touch Yazoo's cheek. Though the boy didn't allow himself to finch away from the contact or the man towering over him, he felt a tear slip down his face when the cold leather came to rest on his skin, "my worthless little puppet."