Tempus' Paladin
Written by Whimsical Symphony
FFnet screwed with my formatting. Please don't mind the off centre title. I really don't know how to fix it. It happened to all of my stories and it is frustrating me.
I think I'm on an updating spree with this one. Updating again, while the story is getting thicker and the characters are getting closer to one another. Rayleigh makes another appearance and tries in her own way to stop Hojo.
My writing is filled with lots of allusions to both different texts and media. I wanted to share some of them to you for enjoyment. Think of it as 'Where's Waldo' for future chapters. In this chapter alone, I referenced Sleeping Beauty in relation to Genesis, Hobbes' Leviathan, 'To the Lighthouse' (vaguely) by Virginia Woolf, as well as used Twelfth Night for reference quite a bit on the way Genesis reacts to Tifa near the beginning of this piece – how he describes her as a woman and treats her as one despite her being a 'man', making Tifa in this, a comparison to Viola as Cezario, and Genesis as Duke Orsino.
There may have been more though they escape me now. I hope you enjoy the chapter, quite a bit. I loved the response I got last time and how detailed you guys all are in telling me what you think. I thank you all so deeply. I do hope you continue to enjoy and don't mind my rambling author's notes too much! I just wanted to let you all know where sections of it are inspired by.
Chapter XI ~ What Tomorrow Brings ~
Genesis lay in his bed, curled up, trying to stop the ringing, dizzying sensation in his head which rose like a storm, like a cyclone sending all his thoughts askew. His mouth felt dry, his tongue as heavy as lead, signifying the grand amount of alcohol he drank the night before. Time passed slowly. It froze like ice during these moments after drinking where he felt nothing but the utmost negativity. No matter how much his pain was numbed during his binge drinking, a slight time afterward and it always caught up, promising more hurt than previously for all the time of its absence.
Genesis should have realized now that those feelings were inescapable, that his efforts were futile.
He remembered how Teef coaxed him out of drinking even more the night before, telling him that he had friends, softly holding his hands and pleading with him with wide, doe-like eyes. He calmed him down, holding him, affectionately touching his soft skin against Genesis' own, whispering in dulcet tones from those full lips, like a harp, chiming in crescendo to decrescendo, a voice he thought only the most beautiful of women possessed. But for a man to calm him so and in such a way, surprised him. It seemed a gentler, womanly tactic than the rough insults thrown around by men when they wanted their way. This gentleness never would have worked when a man gave him it, a warm touch to his swelling, reducing it. But it did, this time.
All his hate for Hojo and Hollander dulled down almost as if he took some pain relieving drug, almost as if it erased the pain there temporarily, allowing it to fly somewhere and torture another soul for a while. Though, he came now to a world that abhorred him still, his dreams not meaning much, his hurts coming back with sores renewed, laughing at him with mocking, toothed Cheshire grins.
But it could have been worse. Teef comforted him when he most needed it, though he rather his student hadn't seen him in that state. Warmth engulfed his heart when he thought how Teef made those feelings escapable for a short time, allowed him to feel content and relaxed instead of numbed.
Teef somehow wormed his way into his heart. Genesis grew fond of him without even knowing so, a dear friend he became. A dear friend so good at being one, he thought, that his sleep almost seemed as if an etherizing incense was burned and gave him a dreamless sleep free of fidgeting and tremors, no good, no bad, just nothing. And nothing always seemed the preferable choice to the bad in his world where shadows lurked in every such corner, tempting him to come forward and bite the apple that they held in their hands, but when he did, he knew that he never would wake up again. It would not be the same sort of dreamless sleep. By accepting the apple, he would be accepting death.
He feared winter's chill so, sometimes.
He feared loneliness, facing all that darkness with his own might, no one standing beside him as he braved forward and brandished Rapier. He never realized that fact truly until now. Genesis couldn't be that hero standing alone.
"Gen, I brought you some tea. You really should learn to stop drinking like this, especially since it makes you so miserable."
Genesis rose sluggishly and looked toward his doorway, alerted by Angeal's booming voice. His friend walked in and set a cup of tea on his wooden bedside table before taking a seat at the edge of the bed. His expression, though soft like dough, malleable, was also firm, rigid as bone; Angeal wished to scold him.
"Please don't speak to me about right and wrong when my head hurts so, 'Geal!" Genesis snapped irritably at his friend, giving him a sharp glare. "You speak so loudly as well. That's not the correct voice to use with someone in my condition near you. Do you wish to cause me more pain?"
He touched his forehead and tried to will away the new pain that surfaced from the volume of Angeal's voice, and the content of his words, which made his head hurt regardless of whether or not he drank the night before. Anything about morals and dreams and honour and he wished Angeal's mouth would clamp shut like a secure treasure box, ever elusive like the Gift of the Goddess.
Angeal chuckled a little, quieting his voice but stating, just as smartly, "You knew this would happen. It always does. Don't talk like a patient who didn't bring his condition upon himself." Angeal gestured to the tea. "Drink some. It'll make you feel better, Gen."
Genesis took the tea, not even wondering when Angeal came in, since he reckoned he slept like the dead and didn't hear. It tasted like, pomegranate and cranberry, which soothed his throat and hydrated his unpleasantly dry mouth.
"You know why I do it, 'Geal. The reasoning hasn't changed, and I doubt it will," he told him softly. He clutched the sheets in his fists and trembled. "That numbness far beats the sores which open and fester even at the slightest mention of any of those issues which plague us so."
Angeal sighed and frowned, seeming rather exhausted. When Genesis looked at his friend's face, only then did he realize how much all of it showed, all the problems, all the hate and anger. His friend's eyes showed that he aged beyond his years due to all the suffering, even though he didn't show it physically. Sephiroth looked much the same these days, wearied, much older, though in the guise of a much younger man.
"Sephiroth told me all of it, myself and Zackary. Hojo is homing on to your student, I can understand your anger, Gen." He looked at the floor at the moment then and whispered, "He does enjoy making us miserable but since we are all together, we can protect one another. I don't wish for him or Hollander to win; they're more than simply dishonourable, they're despicable, inhuman and without the smallest shred of empathy." He looked at Genesis then, a slight smile on his face. "Don't hurt yourself like this."
He remembered Teef conveyed much similar thoughts through his pleading, asking him what he was doing and telling him not to poison himself so much in his grief. The reflection of all four of them, he could see in the mirror - Zackary, Teef, Angeal and Sephiroth - overlapping in some sense, mimicking one another as they quoted those same lines from a scripture of wisdom he barely understood. Quite a feat indeed since he understood so much about literature, but their words sounded foreign to him, an unfamiliar dialect.
"I only wish for Teef to be safe," he admitted, realizing the truth of it.
He didn't want anyone else hurt the way his two friends and he had been, no matter how strongly that fact tied them together. Genesis loathed watching them hurt, and himself, with needles and knives and all sorts of torture devices not fit for the time they lived in.
Angeal understood, analyzing Genesis' expression as he continued to drink the tea in silence. He understood that Genesis didn't want Hojo's hands to fall on an innocent, someone whose care he valued deeply now, who soothed his worries and bandaged them, who kept him company like they did when the very seams of his sanity seemed to come undone. He didn't want a terrible fate to befall Teef Lockhart either.
"We will protect him," Angeal told him, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice, strong.
The silence lengthened and the tension thickened as all their anxiety seeped from them as tea steeped in water, filling the air around them with unmistakable insecurity, apprehension and liquid anguish evaporating and circling around them. They both wished for some kind of elixir to cure the hurts in their hearts and minds, but mental agony always, always had persistence, and hurt far more than physical pain because, unlike the wounds on their bodies which healed over time and patience from experiments, the mental trauma always stayed, always haunted them.
The added worry of Teef's life being in jeopardy, made Genesis in particular swallow slowly, letting the tea burn his throat on the way, relishing in that pain to make him focus on something else, besides the thought that he would fail his student and dear friend. He laughed bitterly to himself and wondered, looking at himself, if he could do anything at all, whether this self of his he forced himself to grow proud of over time could even do anything when it mattered, this useless, monstrous body.
Genesis wondered if he could play the role of the hero and wear his garbs when it mattered most to him.
"We will…" Genesis pulled his lips into a thin line and looked at Angeal, determined. Angeal ruffled his hair and he at least knew he wouldn't be alone, wouldn't have that sickening, nauseating feeling of having only himself to rely on as he grew wearier and wearier, until, like a desert traveler, he collapsed from lack of water and fatigue, never to wake up. "Do not tarnish the perfection of my hair, Angeal! You know how I hate people putting their hands on it," he complained, even if he knew his own pathetic state at the moment turned him into anything but a peacock.
His friend simply chuckled and ruffled his hair more, much to his annoyance.
Genesis would do his best. Teef depended on him and, as was customary of a hero, he would risk everything to do his job properly for someone he cared for.
Tifa tired quickly from fighting Zack, her skin slick with sweat, her breathing heavy and labored as she tried to muster the strength to push him back, release the chains on the beast inside her. It proved impossible, however.
She managed to get a couple near hits, which really, besides her one punch, had been closer than she ever got with Genesis back in their battle he challenged her to, but still, Zack's skill seemed far above hers now with the sword, his strength insurmountable, and his disposition not in the least shaken, as firm and steady as a rock as he beckoned for her to attack him more, tire herself out more. His style of fighting differed greatly from Genesis' as well, for he seemed more like her, and Zack, the complete opposite, like red and blue beside one another, fire and ice, opposing and clashing, never meeting and embracing.
Tifa took one deep breath, no more, calming herself as Zangan once taught her too, before rushing forward once again, meeting blades with him, her wrists nearly collapsing against the sheer force he put forward without even batting an eyelash.
"You should fix your posture, and your weight distribution. You're relying too much on your wrists," Zack advised her, not changing the position of their clashing swords from their status quo for the time being.
"No I'm not!" Tifa denied, pushing back harder, then letting go.
His blade swung and she dodged quickly, like the wind, her one talent if she had any, she thought idly. Twisting around behind him fluidly, she prepared to set her sword at his neck but he knew and just smile mischievously.
Sparks flew as he met her sword with his own and dragged it along his. He turned his own body and the momentum was enough that her wobbly hold on the hilt of the sword faltered and it clattered to the ground, the noise resounding in the empty room.
Zack, grinning, pointed his sword at her, making her unintentionally shudder before he declared, "I win."
Tifa, sighing, put up her hands in surrender. "I suppose you win… this time," she conceded, smiling weakly at him. She wondered how many bruises formed in that training session. He pushed her back quite a lot of the time, though he was significantly less rough than Genesis was on her. Even thinking about their first training session, all the bruises which seared like a fire licked each and every inch of her skin, made her head hurt and her body feel heavy as if she trudged through heavy snow up to her knees throughout her pilgrimage for salvation and justice. "Maybe I was using my wrists too much."
Tifa sat on the ground and lay back, looking at the ceiling, far too tired to think any more about it all. Zack sat down beside her and laughed heartily. He looked at her for a moment and analyzed her curious expression.
In answer, he poked her arm once with the tip of his finger and stated, "You're still too stick thin. I swear I can feel your bones in there." He gave her another glance over before noting absently, "But it's the girly kind of slender. Could have mistaken you for a woman sometimes…"
Even though he said this, she knew he hadn't made any discoveries; he just noted what he saw like a child would in his journal, like Zack always did to his surroundings. She made sure to frown and look offended at the thought that he said she looked womanly, though secretly somewhere, a sort of contentedness coiled around her in a serpentine fashion, a relaxes, rested feeling like lying in bed with feather pillows and smooth sheets. Somehow, she was glad that some parts of her remained feminine in spite of her not being able to parade around as a girl, even if she never did humour that feminine part of herself for such a long time that it seemed like an old fable an unknown author wrote, rather than truth now.
"A girl? Really Zack?" Tifa asked, with mock displeasure.
She saw him flush with embarrassment and couldn't help but think she wanted to see all these expressions on him for a long time. Tifa never wanted his life to be cut short in the pouring rain and roaring thunder as he bled so heavily, as Cloud's tears mixed themselves with the rain so well, like gin and tonic – where the latter overpowered the former's burn - and he began to think of himself as Zack's substitute. Part of Cloud died that day, with Zack, their lives intertwined just like a good cocktail.
"Sorry, didn't mean that; you're definitely a boy, promise," Zack assured her with a mock salute. Then, looking at each other's expressions, they began to laugh hard for a little while.
All Tifa could think on was Zack's ability to make everyone around him smile and laugh, and how someone like that didn't deserve to have his existence all but erased to the public, not even known as a hero as he should have been.
Everyone remained deluded by Shinra, clouded, thinking that convenience far surpassed the blood of the planet in importance, of all the people that the company ruined and killed in exchange for Mako energy, and through the use of Jenova, the cells of the creature which resided within all of them, biting, tearing, killing everything all of them, making such vibrant people into frail glass, able to shatter at the slightest impact as they drowned in despair.
The next morning, Tifa knew that her femininity took control of her, and not for the better. A startling pain shook her stomach and she wanted to will it away, but it obviously didn't leave.
It had been the first day, so thankfully she managed to hide it well enough from her roommates, but they still were concerned for her, Kris especially who reacted as if she would die any moment, turn to stone and never awaken, as she lay in bed after going to the bathroom and cleaning herself up a bit. It only reminded her that she should have been more careful and realized that in spite of her guise as a man, she couldn't change her bodily functions, that this pain would come back and remind her of who she was. She needed to not falter, standing tall, unwavering like a boulder so as to not raise anyone's suspicions.
"Hey are you okay? Are you sure you don't need anything?" Kris asked her, panicking, speaking awfully loudly. "Oh… what if the cafeteria food poisoned you! I knew it was bad news."
Tifa curled up in the blankets and willed Kris to quiet down for just a moment at least, he was giving her a headache, and she wondered whether this feeling, as if she got hit by a truck, was how Genesis felt after he awoke in the morning after his drunken interlude the night before.
She took a glance at his face and noticed the honest concern there, as easy to read as a book for all to see. Then, she cursed herself for her own insensitive thought when was nothing but worried for her.
"Don't be stupid, Kris," Taioh told him, flicking his forehead and watching the pout form on his lips. "He must be in pain because Genesis beat him up in practice. That sounds most logical, especially considering what a demon that guy is!" He shuddered, just thinking about the sadistic First-Class. Tifa couldn't shake the hilarity, no matter how many times she saw it, that even a mere mention of Genesis among cadets got them all star-struck with looks of awe painted upon their faces, but simultaneously sent them cowering like mice hiding from cats. "I don't know how you survive with him as a trainer."
Lucian looked at her idly and cocked a brow. "What he sees in you, I do not know. Such a woman you are indeed."
He smirked at her and brushed his long hair vainly away from his face, a gesture which annoyed her further, like a kettle left boiling a little too long, a small gesture that aggravated her more than it should have. Vanity always had the power to do so, she noted, so she had no clue how she dealt with Genesis Rhapsodos so long, the vainest of men who would literally drown after falling in love with his own reflection in a body of water. The tale of Narcissus must have been about Genesis Rhapsodos.
"Actually, Zack beat me up, I would have been much worse off had it been Genesis," Tifa told them all, frowning. She did in fact have the bruises as evidence. "Genesis was… busy so couldn't mentor me."
Her training would have to serve as a good excuse for her once a month pains. She mentally apologized to Genesis for having him serve as her excuse to at least the cadets, but then remembered how pleased he would have been anyway, relishing in the looks of fear that it brought upon the faces of her roommates. Genesis, while vain, was also simultaneously a sadist.
Deciding, however, that sitting down really would not do anything for her and that she did need to see Rayleigh, she got up slowly, ignoring the pain and nausea that surfaced because of her sudden move.
Tifa looked at the other three and said, "I'm going to the infirmary."
Rising from her bed, she ignored the worried glances of her roommates as she walked slowly to the entrance.
Lucian commented, "You certain you're not going to faint like a weakling?"
No matter how condescending he sounded, Tifa knew well he wouldn't shoot his own pride down to come off as fully concerned, even if he seemed quite transparent right now, not hiding in the least the vivid colours of his emotions painted on canvas by an impressionist.
"Please don't die! We'll be short one roommate!" Kris squeaked worriedly. T
Taioh and Lucian both immediately tried to calm him down, similar to older brothers to their younger siblings, tightly tied together with ribbons of companionship and survival ties, affection, and streaked with red in loyalty, even though they were not related. Tifa saw how both of them took care of him and imagined they would never forgive anyone out to hurt him, serving as his shield, protecting him from hailing arrows whenever necessary, no matter the cost.
"I'll be fine," she promised, giving them all sincere smiles, one even more reassuring to Kris who looked more in danger of of dying or passing out than she did. Then, she moved to exit, but not before teasing Lucian as she often did, saying, "You know, if you don't behave well, I don't think Sephiroth would be all that pleased. From the times I've talked to him, he seems to appreciate people being kind, not acting all haughty!"
Tifa left without another word, though she felt certain that she left a man who both felt envy growing like a seedling to a tree in the pit of his heart at the thought she had conversations with his hero. He was probably also a man who sported frown and remained in denial that he'd been anything but polite to her.
Lucian was hilarious to poke fun at, distracted her from the thought that she might one day be trapped in Hojo's lab, all alone with horrible experiments performed on her, trying to open the lock that led to her freedom, to the daylight and her friends, but failing miserably no matter how she looked for the golden key. But she never took herself for a coward, and she still refused to garb herself as one, only now as a warrior, a brave one who stood up for what she found right and protected those who needed protecting.
Tifa refused to become a victim without fighting tooth and nail for her own survival, much as wild animals would in the state of nature, focusing on self-preservation, not social hierarchy nor power.
In simple terms, she thought, Hojo could screw himself before he found himself breaking her spirit.
Rayleigh looked rather troubled when Tifa found her soon enough, biting her lip, ceaselessly clicking her ballpoint pen as she sat on a revolving chair beside her desk, in some attempt to calm the whirling thoughts she had, puzzle pieces not quite fitting together, text written in a foreign language she wanted to understand but couldn't no matter how much she studied.
Her hair seemed uncharacteristically messy and her expression tired. Tifa knew then that Rayleigh was worried about the notes that went missing due to Hojo's quest for power. She knocked on the open door twice, knocking her out of her thoughts.
Startled, Rayleigh looked at Tifa and with a small, forced smile on her face, asked, "What brings you here?"
"Woman issues; my stomach hurts," Tifa told her, walking into the office and taking a seat on a chair near the researcher. She looked at Rayleigh and noticed thin sharp cuts on her fingers, just slivers, barely noticeable, but clearly brought upon by endless page-flipping of books and notes. "You seem troubled. Worried about Hojo taking your notes?"
"That," she admitted weakly, guilty that she put the woman in danger, "but also the thought that I realized why the name Jenova seemed so familiar last we talked. Hojo… told Sephiroth that Jenova was his mother, but beyond that, he doesn't know anything about his mother, nor does he know his father…" Rayleigh clenched her fists, trying to release some kind of tension, but none of it drew out of her, only lay within her the more troubled she became. Hojo didn't deserve to be called a scientist if he used children for experiments, dooming their fate before they even looked at the world and saw its beauty for the first time. "What reason did he have to lie?" Her voice increased in volume, in outrage any every single emotion the put in place to help the three SOLDIERs. Even though she usually considered herself a calm woman, checks and balances to plug her emotions, they all flowed out in a thin stream now, without any sort of reluctance, like water from a tap. "What reason…" she trailed off, her voice wavering.
Tifa remained quiet for a moment before she answered in whatever words she could, "Sephiroth's father is Hojo. I don't want him to know that. He's so different from his father." Although she thought he already did know that little tidbit. Rayleigh looked at her in shock, mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out, no words of sadness or anger, or anything, the trail of words frozen in their tracks, immobile now. "And Jenova is simply a parasite which will not cause the death of Sephiroth, directly at least, but will cause the death of Genesis and Angeal."
The facts shook Rayleigh to the core, trembling like landslides and earthquakes, overturning hope and despair, muddling them all together to the point where she didn't know which was which. It would cause the death of Angeal… and Genesis and then, effectively kill her from guilt if she found herself unable to create a workable cure to help them.
"I will… I will find a cure, even though I wasn't able to find any files on the creature. I suppose I will have to rely on experiments." When she looked at Tifa, she thought that the woman would perform horrid experiments on her like Hojo did, cutting and hacking his specimens to death, enjoying their screams of horror and anguish as they bled further and watched themselves die, or died of shock on the operating table. But Rayleigh simply asked for one thing. "May I take a vial of blood? In exchange, I will give you the pain relievers for your problem… and I promise that I'll protect you from that monster."
"Alright," Tifa agreed, to placate the troubled scientist.
"Thank you," she whispered.
In no way did Tifa forget about the deal she made with Rayleigh. They scratched each other's backs in exchange for keeping a secret and finding a cure, but Tifa would have lent her assistance anyway, to help those friends of hers. She stuck her arm out, not shaking in the least as she gestured for Rayleigh to go ahead. She felt the cool prick of the metal needle and knew her blood escaped from her body, that slight delirious feeling familiar to her from whenever blood tests occurred, a slight nausea, but a feeling of contentedness nonetheless.
Rayleigh, after Tifa left, promised that the woman wouldn't have to deal with Hojo during the Mako tolerance test of the SOLDIER Exam. She put her in danger due to her own carelessness, she would protect her. She typed out an e-mail to Lazard and wanted for him to at least hear her suggestion, hear her wish to keep Teef Lockhart hidden from all harm.
Tifa's instruction with the sword continued, Genesis teaching where Zack left off, giving her tips and tricks and generally correcting her.
When they sat around Genesis' flat, he played chess with her on a beautiful marble and glass board, a strange sort of activity she never suspected would ever count as training for her. But he considered it so, telling her of its uses, of strategy's uses on the battlefield when one had to think quickly to elude death only more time, a slim chance they needed to take advantage of.
This day, the day right before the preliminaries for the SOLDIER Exam, she found herself in yet another situation of near loss in this game he played with her. He looked relaxed as he analyzed her next move, predicted, like a seer, what her future would bring, calmly circling his usual glass of wine, seeing the determined glint in her eyes.
She, nervous, decided between moving her Rook forward to destroy his Knight, and placing his King in a check position, but then simply getting killed by his Queen, or moving her Knight to attack his Bishop, and getting killed by his Rook. The choices seemed little more than grim. Tifa frowned, not liking that she discovered Genesis was a tactical genius, a perfect puppeteer, making his marionette dance every which way he wanted to with strings that never intercepted one another.
"Why do you ponder so hard on two choices with equal benefits and losses? If that's the case, pick one; there will be no difference on your end," Genesis drawled, giving her a pointed look, tracing his finger along the rim of his glass. "On the battlefield you will not have such time to think about which choice to make when a sword heads toward you, determined to impale you."
"It's not that easy," Tifa grumbled, picking choice one in the end, moving her Rook to kill his Knight. "Check."
As expected, his Queen killed her Rook, but what she did not expect also happened. He had her completely surrounded, like standing in the midst of a mine field, wherever she stepped led to her downfall and he knew it, giving her a slightly smug look. She tried every which way, moving her king left to escape the Bishop led to getting killed by the Rook, and moving right led to getting killed by the Queen, moving up one led to getting killed by his other Rook and diagonal in any position, her King would get destroyed by a combination of Knights, Bishops, and even one seemingly insignificant Pawn. All of his pieces weaved together a complex web that ensnared her, and the spider came down and injected her with venom, ensuring her loss, her death by toxin.
"Checkmate. You are indeed terrible, perhaps worse than the puppy," Genesis told her, to which she glowered at him and all his insults which flowed so naturally like a spring from those lips. He clucked his tongue once and rose, sitting down on the couch then and gestured for her to sit next to him, which she did so without any sense of nervousness, used to him now asking her to sit nearby. "Let me make a guess: you're nervous about tomorrow, are you not?"
Tifa couldn't deny it. He knew already and didn't even need to ask, sensing her troubles, her worried demeanor, her trembling hands as they placed each piece down on the chessboard, all as it pooled deeper in the pit of her stomach, higher and higher, seemingly stretching her form so she felt indeed like a margarine, thinned out with a butter knife over a slice of bread. "I am," she admitted, clasping her hands together, feeling the warmth of her two hands transfer to one another as if a secret message passed between them, comforting her. She wondered if she did well enough with Genesis' instruction that fighting would come naturally to her, like a ballroom dance, smooth and unfaltering, from one end to the other, slow like snowflakes falling from the sky. "Can I do this? I wonder it a lot myself."
"You will do so, because I have taught you well. Trust, those cadets will fall before as easily leaves from the trees come fall," Genesis reassured her, scoffing silently at the lack of strength many other cadets displayed. He looked at Teef then, the thoughtful look set upon his face as he turned around and used the armrest for a cushion, hearing his words fall upon him, blanketing him, an anesthesia for all his worry. Even if he couldn't do much physically, he at least was content that his voice, like a nice cup of chamomile tea, could relax his student so, from the inside, to the outside, allowing him to feel safe, like this place was his grand palace with the best security available. The red couch molded to his form perfectly, almost embracing him. "If you don't do well, you know the consequences," he said rather nonchalantly.
"Of course, you'll punish me, right," Tifa answered with a small smile. "I'm sure that I can pass with your instruction."
And she remembered, not every cadet had the advantage she did when it came to preparation, and even after should she pass, Genesis training her, instructing her on rights and wrongs, correcting her and showing her the doors she needed to open, much more effectively than any other could.
Genesis rose, and decided to boil some water for tea, which would relax his student into a deep sleep, one he needed for the long day he had ahead of him. Preparing the loose-leaf tea and hearing the calming boiling, like the brush of the ocean's waves across a sandy shore, he looked around him then.
He noticed all the copies of LOVELESS that sat upon his bookshelves, so many translations, so many editions with so many footnotes and annotations edited by scholars, even though he knew, he far preferred the unnoted one left in the inner breast pocket of his leather coat.
He believed his interpretations true, the puzzles he put together so effortlessly, though he still had further to go, miles and miles without his destination in sight, the truth he knew in the play which held the meaning to his existence. He knew one day, he'd reach the lighthouse, scanning for his ship from the shore, even though it would take years and years of journey to unveil the treasures the play held, and even then, perhaps he would only talk about the lighthouse, but never truly reach it.
"I wonder," he mumbled.
He looked at his student then, curled up on the couch, still awake, deep in thought. He thought of how much he enjoyed LOVELESS, all the peace it gave him, and did love how invested his student seemed whenever he quoted lines from it or explained his interpretations of it, as eloquently as he possibly could manage. Genesis remembered when he first saw the performance of an edition of the play, comparing its differences with the written poem, comparing, contrasting and relishing in the fact that he learned more, felt more in tune with the world around him and his own fantasy at the same time, like a cloud drifting over both silently and freely, watching and observing.
Setting the tea, he brought it back in small teacups carefully, not wanting to let it burn his hands before he set it down on the table in front of the couch.
"Take it," he told Teef. "You need the rest."
He sat down beside her and she took a sip from the hot tea, noting how it calmed her, as if she sat in a garden of flowers and watched them all sway in the breeze, not a care in the world.
"Thank you," Tifa told him sincerely.
He nodded at her in response before mentioning, "Perhaps, if you are interested… if you pass, no, when you pass," he corrected himself, feeling just a little flustered at his own lack of articulacy at the moment. Teef encouraged him to continue, that same intent expression as when he talked about LOVELESS to him. "I have seen many a play myself, of LOVELESS. I will take you to the one showing now in Midgar on LOVELESS Avenue, when you pass your tests." He had no need to mention that he wished to give Teef some solace before he would be forced to face Hojo for the Mako tolerance tests afterward, when all the shadows would creep up from the abyss and latch onto his legs, and stay no matter how he tried to shake them off.
"That'd be great!" Tifa answered him excitedly, rather surprised Genesis decided to make such a generous offer.
Relieved that Teef accepted, he poked her on the forehead and mentioned, "Remember though, you must pass for this to occur!" Genesis smiled slyly at her and continued, "Finish your tea and then you can head to bed. I have faith in your strength."
And as she drank the tea, she couldn't help but think of him as truly a pillar of strength, never leaning to one end nor the other, standing strong and showing everyone his glory. The tea relaxed her nerves further and she felt her thought processes fogging up, mere traces, footsteps of memories and dreams as sleeping dust sprinkled itself over her from a butterfly's batting wings, lulling her deeper and deeper into the mist and further away from the reality, until she found herself asleep.
Genesis quoted LOVELESS, she heard it in his smooth chocolate voice, while she drank the tea, and his words remained the last words she heard in her sleep, the last connector to her reality, the tether that connected her to him, her anchor.
My friend, your desire,
Is the bringer of life, the Gift of the Goddess.
Even if the morrow is barren of promises,
Nothing shall forestall my return…
Genesis found his student soundly asleep when he finished speaking LOVELESS.
After placing the teacup in the sink, he carried his student to the guest room and tucked him in. "You must pass because I wish to see that new edition of the LOVELESS play quite badly, you see."
Chuckling at his sleeping face, the small trail of drool that escaped from the corner of his lips, his eyes closed, relaxed, and his nose twitching ever so often as he sniffled in his sleep, he then left. He highly doubted that Angeal carried Zack to bed, and thought that Teef Lockhart may have been the luckiest and most skillful cadet in the word, to somehow coerce him into doing such a menial task when he lay fast asleep.
Dear SOLDIER Director Lazard,
I want to request taking over Professor Hojo's duty with Mako tolerance tests for one particular cadet during the upcoming SOLDIER Exam. This cadet, Teef Lockhart, has Mako poisoning I diagnosed, and because I diagnosed it, his condition should be my responsibility. I believe I am the one most familiar with his condition, and thus the only one able to give the most effective care possible in ensuring all goes well.
Attached are the documents proving the diagnosis explained above.
Please hear my request,
Rayleigh of Shinra's Research Division
Lazard looked at the e-mail silently, remembering Rayleigh, the hardworking scientist who always, always seemed to have her office light on at night, into the wee hours of the morning, researching something unaware to others. But she made a good impression on him, and unlike Hojo, his three specific First-Class SOLDIERs didn't hate her, even were cordial and friendly toward her. He wondered if this little tidbit factored in at all with the fact that Genesis took on a cadet, this Teef Lockhart mentioned.
"Should I accept?" Lazard questioned himself, dragging the cursor over the blank spot to type in his reply to her. While he did have the authority to override Hojo's command on reasonable grounds and in doing so, he would probably save Genesis some worry, getting rid of the possibility of the scientist messing with his student, he wondered whether it would be right to. "What to do…"
When he began to type a message, approving Rayleigh's request, a sickening feeling, almost as if he'd witnessed a grotesque murder with an ocean full of blood, settled in his stomach. Somehow he knew, despite his own actions, Hojo wouldn't let it settle like this. He'd persistently hack at each verge in the way of him and what he wanted, like a spoilt child with a favourite toy taken away.
His feelings were rarely, if ever, wrong.
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