Chapter 11

The wind had picked up enough since the battle that Cloud was finding it increasingly difficult to run - but every so often, he could see enough of an outline of a footprint in the patches of snow that he could see his path clearly, and he knew he was gaining. That thought, the thought that he knew he could win, was enough to keep him going. It was clear, if he read the signs - the other man was slowing down - the droplets of blood were growing more and more frequent, filling the spaces between the cracks in the pavement slowly as the soldier's feet pounded down, relentless.

But, all at once, something blocked the trail - a black shape in the middle of the road, and surrounding it a pool of blood, steaming in the cold. He knew immediately what it was - there was no mistaking the stench of death - but, still hoping that it wasn't true, he slowed to a walk and moved around to the front of the body.

He didn't quite know why the sight of the assassin's lifeless face bothered him so much - perhaps because he hadn't been the one to kill the man, or because the idea of revenge didn't sit well with him. He didn't like to think that it was because that face, bloodstained and peaceful, reminded him of Aerith's, on the night that he found her.

His face was completely motionless as he walked away, feet taking him reluctantly back in the direction of his apartment. For the first time in a long while, he had to suppress the urge to drink himself into oblivion; drink until he couldn't remember their faces, dead in the snow.

XXX

Zack could have sworn that his heart fucking stopped upon hearing the words from Sephiroth's lips - except that he was still alive, mouth open as if he was about to say something, his eyes petrified in shock.

"…What?" he asked, barely able to recognize his own voice. "Sephiroth, you don't mean…"

"I do," he asserted, expression distant. "I killed her. I do not forget a face." There was a long, terrible silence, and the two friends watched each other - one gaze blank in shock, the other searching - because Zack couldn't come up with the coherency it would take to formulate a response.

"I was guarding a ShinRa transaction," he continued, "and was told to dispatch any witnesses. She walked in, and I killed her."

On the edge of his vision, he could see the two boys sitting and watching - but they both had the good sense to realize that it was not their place to interfere. He took a step back without entirely realizing it, almost tripping over the edge of the bed, and sat down breathlessly, trying to right his image of the world.

"You…" he said, and the sound couldn't decide whether it was accusing or disbelieving. "You didn't. You're lying." Aerith was - why would he kill her? It didn't make any sense.

"For what little the sentiment is worth, I am sorry," the man continued, voice quiet as his emerald eyes watched his friend with an expression that might have been akin to one of sorrow - the most human he had ever seen ShinRa's general look.

Those words, and that look, shot Zack back to the present - he had realized long ago that, as a soldier, he might have to do some terrible things for the greater good. He had joined ShinRa because Chicago's regular policing unit was completely ineffectual, and he wanted to help people, help clean up the streets - but he knew that mistakes would be made. Those mistakes were the price he would have to pay for the people he could help.

But none of that made the betrayal any easier to bear.

"I… think I need to be alone." He turned towards the doorway, then halfway back, as if he couldn't decide what he really wanted to do. Finally, he said, "Watch the kids for me. I'll come back in a bit," and stalked out the door.

Because the fact was that, while he knew he couldn't blame Sephiroth for his actions, he also knew that something in him wanted to. Though the memory of their first meeting welled in him - the man had been completely unable to judge or comprehend the emotions of others, and unwilling. Slowly, over time, he'd grown better - more understanding - but he was still ShinRa's General. He still followed orders to the letter.

Suddenly, the thought occurred to him - what if someone he'd killed in a drug-bust or a hostage situation had been innocent? An undercover cop, for instance? Maybe they had been, he'd never know - but what would Zack himself be able to do if confronted with this person's living family, and the accusation in their eyes?

The simple answer was that he didn't know.

XXX

As soon as Yuffie's laughter had died down, and Cloud was safely out of hearing distance, Vincent stood from where he had been sitting on the bed and turned to his rescuer.

"I was… unaware, that you were housing me in the lodgings of a ShinRa," he told her, deep voice reserved as ever. He hadn't yet decided whether that fact would be enough of a reason for him to leave or not - because the simple fact was that his own lodgings were hardly permanent, and the landlord less than trustworthy.

Yuffie shrugged like she wasn't sure how it mattered, smile still not entirely gone from her face.

"Cloud may be a ShinRa, but he's one of the good guys. He's a pushover and kinda sweet, if you can catch him off-guard," she told him with a small laugh, leaning back on the bed with her hands behind her head in a decidedly masculine way. "It's not a problem, is it? He's not gonna turn you in. You're a friend of mine."

She paused, as if waiting for him to respond with more than the simple shake of his head that he gave her - but he had very little to say, and so he said nothing.

"In any case," she continued without missing a beat, "we got so caught up in fixing you up that you never did tell me why it was that you were in a firefight with the ShinRa." Despite the nature of her half-query, she didn't appear suspicious or accusing at all - a benefit, he supposed, of her kind and open disposition. And despite everything that had happened to him, despite how he had been hurt, he still had no talent for lies or inclination to tell them.

"I was attempting to rid the world of some little bit of the evil in it," he responded, turning slightly so he could better avoid her gaze.

Her first response was a snort, which made the man turn back to her in surprise.

"Well, if that wasn't a tricky, ambiguous answer, then I've never heard one," she shot back, sitting up from her position on the bed. "How about we try something clear for me here, huh? I'm no good at riddles." He noted with amusement that she probably wouldn't be - a direct mind like hers was much less willing to put together his unclear answers to come up with what he meant to say.

"Ah, my apologies," he returned, barely-visible hint of a smile hidden behind his coat's high collar, then gone again in an instant. "Then I will speak plainly for you - I was attempting to remove the worst of ShinRa's scientific department from this world." He hoped simply that she, with her apparent own dislike of ShinRa, would not be frightened by this answer.

"An excellent goal if there ever was one," she responded amicably, putting his uncertainties to rest in her own brash manner. "So were you behind the assassination of the big guy not too long ago?" Yuffie asked with a quality to her voice that might have been one of admiration. She was, of course, referring to Hojo; and though the man had a tendency towards the paranoid and was not easy to kill, he was still overconfident - it was this trait which had allowed Vincent to kill the man.

"I was," he responded, though he never would have given her that information if she hadn't surmised as much on her own.

"Congratulations," she responded with that grin, white and flashing in the morning light. "Hojo was a bastard and deserved whatever was coming to him. With the sort of shit he did to Cloud…" she drifted off then, and the man realized then how much she must care for the man. "He must have done some pretty crazy shit to you too, to get you that mad at him." There was a silence for a moment, and she brightened as if she had just gotten an idea.

"You were a ShinRa once, too, weren't you?" she asked, voice smug. "I'd bet my life on it, the way you move. You were a Turk." Her observation truly was astute - only someone with much experience on the streets would have been able to make a judgment like that.

"I was," he replied, then paused, much less interested in discussing his own history than that of the ShinRa who owned the lodgings in which they were staying. "He is important to you, then," he stated rather than asked, because he wanted to judge the man - the actual nature of their relationship mattered very little.

"Cloudster? Like a kid brother who never could take care of himself, hell yeah. And the ShinRa isn't all bad, you know - right now he's off on a mission with the General -" Just hearing that name was enough to cause a twinge of pity in Vincent's throat; he had had the misfortune of being able to see Hojo's other victims on occasion, and none of the memories were pleasant. The worst, by far, involved a man with long silver hair and an ivory face - in the whispers the dark-haired man had managed to hear between his own screams, he had heard the man called The General. This man, this General, hadn't screamed - but the tortures devised for him were so much worse than those that even Vincent had been given, to test the limits of ShinRa's finest.

Yuffie's voice filtered back in through his thoughts within seconds, and he managed to focus in on them not long afterwards.

"- children didn't do anything, see, but their father took a stand against the Organization, and the whole family's being targeted for it. Cloud's there to make to sure the kids don't get killed in the crossfire," she informed him lightly, apparently for no other reason than because she felt like speaking to someone. It wasn't unpleasant at all - rather the opposite, as she apparently didn't mind it when he didn't respond.

"That is, indeed, a noble deed," he murmured in response, sitting down awkwardly on a nearby chair - it occurred to him that he might owe the man an apology, for judging without cause. Within seconds, however, Yuffie was chattering again, and he let her warm voice bubble over him - and eventually, quite against his will, fell asleep; succumbing once again to his wounds and growing exhaustion.

XXX

His couriers brought Marluxia the news almost immediately after it happened - Zexion was dead, in a street, and there were no witnesses to the killing, and no ideas as to who had committed the attack.

"And there was no-one watching him to ensure that this sort of thing didn't happen," he growled, frustrated at his organization's incompetence - but as a loose coalition of assassins, he knew that any assassins he had watched were likely to kill their tracker with no warning. They joined under the condition that the Organization was simply a means through which they could get better jobs, and avoid multiple people on the same man.

The man in front of him didn't cringe, to his credit - he had probably been in the Organization longer than a fortnight - but he did spout out his response more quickly than was strictly normal.

"Sir, you know that when we give jobs, we give them no backup -"

"We know that," Larxene hissed from behind him, and this time he did quiver a little. "Now give us something useful or get the fuck out of here." Though the woman was less lethal than Marluxia himself was, she had shown over the small period of time she had been second-in-command that she was more than willing to take someone up on insubordination. Her version of "taking someone up," however, tended to involve carving their ribs for better access to the prime meat.

"I don't have any more information, sir -" she had insisted on "sir" and not "ma'am" upon ascending, for her own reasons "- except that the body is in the holding room downstairs, pending burial and notification of the next of kin."

"Zexion has no next of kin," came Marluxia's curt response. He had never given any indication of any, and he didn't care enough to make the effort for a search with the threat of the Rogue around the corner. "Burn the corpse."

The man nodded and was out the door in a flash, away from the seething presences at the front of the room, standing imposingly on the dais. With another breath, the woman turned to him, and - face serious for once - spoke.

"So, what do you want to do about this?" she asked, voice low and barely hiding an undercurrent of anger.

This was a more difficult question than he liked to admit - sending out another assassin to do the same job would have been tantamount to murder. Though he had no problem with that in a general sense, it was also idiocy; and that was something he could not stand. The only option, then, would be to remove the Rogue's status as a hit, refuse any outside hits on the man, and take it on as best as he could - himself.

"The Rogue is no longer a valid target," he informed her after a moment. "Instead, you and I will devote all of our energies to finding and killing this man."

The look she gave him then was pure fervor, eyes glistening with malice and a keen intent.

"Fuck yeah," she breathed, turning to face him properly. "This is the kind of job I've been waiting for. I'm going to make him bleed."

That was why he'd promoted her, of all people - that glistening malevolence, the willingness to accept his decisions as long as she was allowed to kill. And he was more than willing to let her.

Then, there was a creak from their door as it opened, and he vaguely heard the sound of heated voices from behind it. Within instants, it revealed a person pushing it outward, flanked by two rather flustered door-guards.

"Sir, we can't let you -"

"We'll see what your master has to say about that," he intoned with a voice full of amusement, but not the pleasant sort. That face was familiar. "In the meantime," he continued, giving each of them a lancing look in turn, "go lick your wounds somewhere the air isn't sullied by your presence - if, of course, there exists such a foul place."

The man's face was an imperfect outline of harsh beauty, enhanced rather than marred by the cross-shaped scar that adorned the bridge of his nose and the unnatural yellow tone of his eyes. His hair was white by nature rather than age, so perfect that it appeared almost blue under the electric lights, and it was this defining feature that finally jogged Marluxia's memory. His name was Saïx, and they had met once before - back before the Organization's leader had held that position, when he had performed a hit for Xemnas himself. The man was Xemnas's second, and a dangerous one - rumor had it that the cross-shaped scar on his face had been self-inflicted, during a fit of madness.

From what Marluxia himself had judged of the man, he seemed like he was only kept from the baseness of being a petty murderer by his sharp intelligence and quick tongue - if Xemnas hadn't found him early on, he would have simply been a killer; but they connected, somehow, and the elder had taught him better, subtler ways to hurt others.

"Saïx," the leader greeted after a moment, ignoring how Larxene instinctively stiffened behind him, "what brings you here? I wouldn't think that someone of such importance would be trifled with something like a petty hit."

"Excellent, then, that that's not what I'm after," the man responded coolly, giving a look around the room that was hardly approving. "My leader wants information," he informed the other, as if that explained everything - and irritatingly, it did. Xemnas got what he wanted, whether by coercion or outright force.

"About?" he replied, as amicably as he could - he was intelligent enough not to exude hostility towards such a powerful man - even if he wanted Larxene in that position, and himself above her.

"The Rogue," Saïx drawled, smooth voice full of derision. "Xemnas is interested in the Rogue."

A thousand things clicked in Marluxia's head all at once - as repugnant as working with that man would be, it could be to his advantage, if played correctly.

"From a collector's or hunter's standpoint," he asked out of a dry curiosity, though he had little hope that he would get a straight answer from the other man, if he got one at all.

"None of your concern," the man replied, and he could feel Larxene move for her knives. He put out a hand to stop her, subtly - there would be a time and a place for that, but not now. "I simply want the information on the Rogue, as you have it."

He smiled and stood, walking over to the other man with considerably less hostility than he felt - and as he smiled, fake and obsequious, he was reminded, again, of why he wanted Xemnas's position. Even if it was just once, he wanted the whole world to recoil from him in fright. Because that was power, raw and undiluted - and power was an addictive drug whose tendrils he would never escape from, and would never want to.

XXX

The Organization's headquarters was uncharacteristically quiet as Axel entered, likely because all of its occupants were gone to relieve stress in their own way - whoring or boozing, most likely, which were the occupations of choice for assassins who weren't busy killing someone. This probably meant that Zexion's body had been found - though that had been a part of his plan, he still would have to tread carefully.

"Oi," he greeted the first door-guard he found, looking rather distracted in his post, "so I wanna know, what's the deal here? Where is everybody?" he asked, giving a sweeping gesture to the empty hallways. The man shot to attention almost at once, and Axel gave a silent laugh.

"Well, everyone seems to be out on their own right now, sir. The news passed around quick," he muttered, like he still didn't want to believe it. Well, it was true - Zexion was dead, and there was nothing that talking quietly was going to do about it.

"What news?" the redhead asked blankly, as if he didn't already know.

"Well, sir, Zexion's body has been found. He's dead, sir," the guard informed the other, apparently stupid enough to think that Axel wouldn't surmise as much from the first sentence.

"Oh," he responded, dragging out the pause in between words uncomfortably. "I see." Another pause. "Where are they keeping the body?" he asked, partially because he was wondering if they'd brought it back. In part, maybe - but no. He wouldn't admit to that, even silently.

"In the holding room, sir. Back the way you came and to the left," he responded, and Axel gave him a smirk and a pat on the head, like an animal.

"Good boy," Axel returned condescendingly, smile feral, as he turned around and walked off, leaving the boy rather more shaken than he probably should have.

But walking towards the room where his rival and acquaintance's body lay, he felt the return of that pesky emotion from earlier - being around the kid was growing him a fucking conscience, it looked like, because suddenly thoughts of Demyx's reaction were plaguing him.

The assassin knew that the Organization no more knew of Zexion's connections to Demyx than they knew that he himself was the Rogue, so nobody would know to inform him of his lover's death - even if they cared enough to, which was unlikely. So, the kid was going to be left to wonder what had happened, if the man was alright - for years, he would tell himself that his lover wasn't dead, that everything would be alright. Every day would be harder, until he slowly realized that his lover would never come home.

For some reason he couldn't explain, something in him knew that he would have to bring the blonde the news. He was going to have to sit there while the blonde fucking cried or whatever, and hope Roxas never found out what he had done.

And that was strange enough - he had never cared before, except for in the sense of his self-protective instinct. The kid was doing weird things to him, and the strangest thing was that he didn't mind nearly as much as he should have, as much as he would have loved to walk straight up to Marluxia's room and do what had to be done.

As much as he would have loved to forget about the man he'd killed, he had this sense of what it would be like if someone killed Roxas - having met the boy, he wasn't sure if he could live without him. Demyx was stronger than he in that way, and he'd live - but the redhead couldn't allow himself to pretend nothing had happened.

He stepped in the door slowly, preparing himself for what he would see - and the other man's face was no different than Axel had imagined, no more dramatic or awe-inspiring - he was just dead, plain and simple. Someone had done him the honor of cleaning the wound at his throat, one of the people they hired for that sort of thing - and they hovered around the end of the table like flies, none of them quite sure what to do. Or at least, not sure if they wanted to do it.

"Hey," he said, and their attention turned towards him as he stepped forward again. "Don't mind me, I'm just paying my last respects."

"You're just in time," one of the men said, moving forward so that his long face was more visible. "We were just about to burn the body, as he has no next of kin to notify."

"Yeah, he does," he informed the others automatically, because he figured it didn't matter anymore. "I know him." A breath. "I knew Zexion, too," he continued after a moment, as the knowledge struck, deep in his gut, of what he would have to do. His penance, if he could be so dramatic. "D'you think that I could do the honors?" he asked soberly, eyes gliding from one man to the other.

"If you like," another man said, evidently relieved - Zexion had been respected in the Organization, and these guys probably didn't want to believe he was dead. Bunch of fucking pansies.

The redhead didn't wait another moment, because his body was acting for him by that point - he pulled the ever-present box of matches out from his pocket, and struck it reverently as another man poured gasoline on his immobile body.

He took only one more step forward, and the first flame licked at Zexion's sides, growing quickly to encompass his whole body - cleansing, purifying, as they ate at the remains of what had once been a man. A great man, yes, and powerful - but a mortal one nonetheless.

Axel didn't say anything as he watched the man crumble into ash, watching the flames intently. As much as that was his repentance, it was also his homage - to the man whom had fought and lost, a worthy rival and good to those he loved. So he stood as he watched the searing flames finish their work, sharply reminded of his own mortality as the last of the body burned away.

XXX

"He was… receptive?" Xemnas asked imperiously, seated on his pure-white throne - a massive testament to his own self-importance. The deep black of his clothing made for a striking contrast, as was of course the intent, and the dark tone of his skin stood out boldly from both.

Their topic was, of course, Marluxia - his organization was powerful, and although he was power-hungry, it was for the time being necessary to work with the man.

"He was," Saïx responded, taking a step up the dais like no-one else was allowed to do. Xemnas was not kind and forgiving enough to allow anyone to see that action, either - he and he alone indisputably held the power. "He gave us the information that we requested, and more - I rather suspect that he wants us to join with him in the hunt for the Rogue."

This was also as Xemnas had thought - but such a venturing of one's own opinion would have been the cause for a severe reprimand in anyone else. Saïx was the only exception to that rule.

"I agree," he responded - he had highly suspected for a while that Marluxia was after Xemnas's own crime syndicate, but could not afford to take the leader down without irrefutable proof. This rogue - in addition to being an incredible nuisance in his own right - was an excuse to work with the Organization, and discover that man's true motives. Then, once his guilt was ascertained, he would be killed - and a new leader instituted in his place.

"So, we are continuing on as we've discussed?" he asked, lips curling barely up into an almost invisible smile.

"With a small change. I wish you to work personally with the Organization, instead of those whom we had discussed earlier. Also," he continued, watching the other man for any reaction, "I want to personally oversee all of the work done in the area." A pause. "I will, at times, be joining you." He hadn't had enough of a challenge recently, and this situation seemed ready-made for his talents.

Saïx's smile grew at that, dangerous as ever.

"As you command, sir."

XXX

Wandering the downstairs expanses was just the thing, it appeared, to clear Zack's mind - away from the source of his confusion, it was much easier to sift through his thoughts.

It was hard, very hard, for the soldier to believe something like that of a friend, even of Sephiroth - if it had been anyone else making that statement, he would have rejected it out of hand. He simply couldn't believe that of the man.

Oh god, Cloud… The words interrupted the flow of his thoughts, hitting him with the force of a sword to the gut - it would be even harder for the boy, and he barely knew how to take care of himself as it was. He had loved Aerith, and he loved Sephiroth also - loved him with a relentless devotion that scared Zack sometimes. He had been getting better at not showing it, but it was still there, underneath the surface to be seen if one looked at him just right, at the right time. This would not just be an injury, but a treachery, to the kid. Although the darker soldier had the feeling that Cloud was incapable under normal circumstances of blaming the General of anything, this might cross the line. The blonde had so much trouble trusting people as it was…

But there was nothing Zack could do about Cloud until he himself had come to his own conclusions, and that was going to take a lot of reflection - so he put thoughts of the other shoulder to the side and focused on the matter at hand, for the time being.

On one side, that was one of the most terrible things he could have heard out of the other man's mouth - and on the other, it was terribly real to him - the possibility of making a mistake, of hurting someone who didn't deserve it. He could understand why the general had done what he'd done - and though he liked to think he wouldn't have done the same, he could never be quite sure.

He had never killed a woman before, but Sephiroth had been in situations where the women could be more dangerous than the men, because they seemed so innocent until they tried to kill you. So his reactions had likely been out of instinct - and he couldn't judge, exactly, because he hadn't been there.

Again, the thought came to him - what if it had been him, in Sephiroth's situation? Suddenly, he remembered a mission he'd had not so long ago - at the end, it had involved burning a small shed that had been full of opiates. When they'd come back to check that all was as it should have been, they'd found the body of a small dog in the charred remains - evidently, it had gotten inside before the door was shut and had been burned alive. What if it had been a woman or child inside that building, and they had been too far away to hear the screams?

The bottom line was that Sephiroth was a soldier, first and foremost - and Zack was also, as different as their takes on life might have been. He wasn't perfect, though his flaws were in different places than most people's, and he also could make mistakes.

It was the memory of that look of regret on the other man's face that finally made his decision for him, and he turned to make his way up the stairs, willing himself to be calm.

This wasn't going to be easy, of course - but then, forgiveness never was.

XXX

The silence in the small bedroom where Roxas was waiting tensely for Axel's return was awkward, at best - the General stood, as immobile as ever, in one corner, while the blonde's younger brother occupied the other side. For once, Sora seemed to have been left completely and utterly speechless by the earlier proceedings - but something of the magnitude of what had just passed was so far out of his realm of experience that he had probably put his mind's gears into double-time to try and figure out some advice to give.

But that was Sora's business, if he wanted it to be - it was quite frankly none of Roxas's concern, and he had better things to worry about. Like the looming possibility of death. Like their redheaded guardian, who'd swept in out of nowhere to save their asses for no apparent reason. The more he thought about Axel, the less sense he made - judging from his manipulation of Cloud and just from his job description, he was a ruthless man; and yet, he'd never been anything less than accommodating with the smaller blonde. In fact, he might have said the man was being downright nice, considering his usual standards.

Also, a man who was so ruthless and self-serving never would have put his life on the line like that - and for no pay. This hadn't been his father's doing, it had been Axel's doing - of his own free will, apparently. This confused the boy immensely - but intrigued him, also.

Because in addition to his ruthlessness, the man was witty and acerbic, intelligent in the way that most of the people around Roxas had no ability to be - and he took no shit from anyone, quite frankly, which was not something the blonde was used to seeing from anyone. He didn't kiss anyone's ass, felt no responsibility to society or some fucked-up idea of social classes - and he lived the way he wanted, when he wanted to.

In short, the assassin was completely and totally free - and that was compelling to the blonde in a way that he was finally allowing himself to recognize. To his shock, he was beginning to realize that he really honestly liked Axel, in a way that he didn't really like anyone except for Sora. For once, he thought that if the world burned - which would be good for it, really - then there was someone else worth saving.

The irony of his statement hit Roxas after a moment - and the thought drew a quiet laugh from him, for the first time in a very long time.

XXX

Marluxia's first idea was fair, at least, if not perfect - given that they had no idea as to the Rogue's current location, since Zexion had left no information on his mark, they would try to draw him out. This was not to say that they had forgotten the family who hired this man - he had given Xigbar that job, if he wanted it - but their focus would be on finding the Rogue, and then they would kill the family.

This was part of the reason that an alliance between himself and Xemnas was even temporarily tolerable - his suggestion had been met with, if not enthusiasm, at least acceptance. Xemnas's syndicate would quietly put out a hit on another assassin, hoping that the Rogue would be tempted by the idea and show up. Whoever was there to meet him would then attempt to kill him - and if they won, that was the end. But, there would be someone else watching, from a distance, in case the rogue did win - and from that information, they would possibly be able to come up with an ID.

And once the Organization knew who someone was - well, they were a dead man.

This would be only the first of many plans, of course - a good strategy had backups for backups, and there was always the possibility that the man wouldn't take the bait. The next lure would be the family who had hired him - they would take center-stage if the man didn't show up. They would be captured, mined for information - and then, whether they gave information or not, they would be killed.

If that did not draw him out, they would have to resort to more primitive measures.

XXX

Finally in one of his many safe-houses, Xemnas had the time and security to receive Saïx's report - his second-in-command, along with a group of less intelligent but still useful drones, had done a sweep of the mansion as best as they could, from the outside - the house in which the Rogue's former employer and his family resided.

Walking slowly into the living room from the kitchen, he sat down on his plush couch lazily, a cup of red wine in one hand, as Saïx materialized silently beside him.

"Yes?" he asked expectantly, taking a sip of the liquid and savoring its dry taste. "Do you have something to tell me?"

"Yes," came the other man's response as he carefully sat into one of the plush armchairs that sat across the room. "Some very interesting things have come up."

There was a silence for a moment, as Xemnas waited for the other to continue, giving his wine an experimental twirl.

"First of all," Saïx finally continued, voice rumbling smoothly in his own peculiar brand of amusement, "there doesn't appear to have been any major signs of movement into or out of the house in days. The automobile is covered in snow, for instance, rather than ice," he informed the other without further explanation - none was needed. The snow would have melted if it had been used, then the liquid would have re-frozen in the chilly temperatures, if the vehicle had been properly driven.

"I see." He paused, and Saïx shifted restlessly in his seat. "Then we must assume that the family is gone, and likely has been gone since the beginning of the Organization's little… vendetta."

"That was my assumption," the other said, eyes glinting in victory.

Several things were made clear by that fact - first of all, the rogue was still working with the family, which was an important bit of information. Secondly, and much more importantly, was the fact that the rogue had known that the attack was about to begin, and so likely had inside information. It was not a perfect inference, by any means - but it was definitely an interesting possibility. The rogue in fact belonged to the Organization, and had decided to turn against them.

"The advantages of running an organization like mine are many," Xemnas murmured thoughtfully, expression sharpening. An organization of assassins had such limited vision - they assumed that the man was working like they did, first of all. They treated this search for a man of considerable talents as if it were just a hit, and treated their revenge upon the family separately. Secondly, they could not put all of the resources at their disposal to work at once - they were forced to attempt to solve the situation individually, rather than with the combined talents of a large group.

"So are we going to be informing Marluxia of this development?" Saïx asked with enough amusement that it was clear he already knew the answer.

"Of course not," came his superior's response. "We will let the man hang himself with his own pride and ambition. If he comes to the end of his usefulness, we will allow the rogue to take care of him - and then we will take care of the rogue himself."

This was the most intriguing that his job had been in far too long, he mused as he took another long sip of his wine. He would just have to take full advantage of it.

XXX

"Excuse me," came a voice from the edge of Sephiroth's vision, and the man looked over intently, surprised by the fact that he had been addressed twice in as many days by young children - and not in tones of fear. Either he was losing his off-putting manner, which he doubted, especially considering his admission from earlier - or they were guarding quite the extraordinary family.

Apparently the fact that the General met his gaze was enough of an invitation to continue as the little brunette - Sora, he remembered - needed.

"I heard your conversation earlier," he said, as if the older man hadn't assumed as much already, "and I just want to tell you that it was a terrible thing you did," he said, and Sephiroth flinched internally - he had already known that, there was no need to be reminded of it again and again.

"But it's a terrible thing to kill people in general, and I know that's your job," he continued quickly, apparently not wanting a response. "So I wanted to tell you that even though it's terrible… I don't think it's completely your fault." Sora paused then, and gave the other man a searching look, piercing blue eyes unguarded in a way that almost reminded him of Zack.

"Do you feel sorry for what you did?" he asked, and the general blinked, taken off guard by the blunt question.

"…Do I feel sorry for…" he repeated, as if he hadn't quite heard the question right.

"Yeah. Have you learned something from it? Would you kill her again if you were given a chance to re-do that day?" Something in his manner gave Sephiroth the uncomfortable impression that if he lied, the boy would know. He had nothing to lose by telling the truth.

"…It is impossible to be sure," he returned, gaze focused completely on the younger's face as it tensed, "but I try not to make the same mistakes twice." The look of relief on the brunette's face was almost tangible in its wide-open solidity - and he did regret it. However cold he may have acted, and however cold he may have been in many cases, the sight of real horror on the faces of people around him was one that he preferred to avoid. And, despite how he may have fought it once, the hurt mixed with the expression hit him like ice, and the thought of that same expression on Cloud's face pained him almost as much.

"Then it might take a while," Sora returned, small smile on his lips as he broke the other man's train of thought, "and a lot of work on your part, if you want to give it - but I think that you'll be forgiven."

Sephiroth did not respond to that - he was unused to receiving advice of any sort, and even more unused to accepting it - it was not a comfortable situation, or one he knew how to deal with.

He was saved from having to make the attempt by a noise from the door - and it opened momentarily, with Zack on the other side, looking perhaps a bit awkward, but determined. The general couldn't help the vague nervous feeling in his gut.

"Hey," he began slowly, straightening up to his full height and crossing his arms. "So, uh, I've been thinking," he offered - as if that hadn't been the issue which had been plaguing the silver-haired man since Zack had been gone. "And I figure that -" Sephiroth stayed very determinedly still through the spaces between these words "- even though it hurts to think about, it wasn't entirely your fault," the man said, giving a small, tentative smile.

Here, Sephiroth gave out a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding - Sora's reassurances were hardly enough to quell the older man's misgivings. The thought of losing the only human contact he had managed - well, it didn't bear mentioning. He hadn't realized before just how important his friendship with Zack had been to him, or the possibility of something that was growing between himself and Cloud.

But they still had to cross that last hurdle - and there was no guarantee that the boy would ever look at him with any emotion other than hatred again.

"I know," Zack continued, taking a few steps forward and slapping a hand down on Sephiroth's shoulder, "that we've gotta do things as soldiers that aren't the best, and we've gotta follow orders - but we do good things, too, and they all balance out somehow." He took a pause, taking a deep breath and letting his serene blue gaze slide up to meet Sephiroth's emerald.

"It was a terrible thing, but… I forgive you," he said, and the words were met by a wash of relief. "And that's the important part, right?"

"…Thank you," he responded, because he didn't have anything else he could say, in the face of the other man's mercy.

XXX

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