Chapter 13
The lingering coil of guilt that accompanied every thought was not a usual sensation for the General, nor was it particularly welcome - Cloud Strife still hadn't returned, and he couldn't quite shake the feeling that the blonde wouldn't be doing so, at least not anytime in the near future.
You drove him away, an ugly voice warbled triumphantly from the back of his mind, and Sephiroth's face tightened in anger. It's because you're a monster, you can't even do something so simple as not kill - in half a moment and by the sheer force of his considerable will, he cut off the voice mid-sentence. That did no-one any good, and sitting around thinking about it did nothing to assuage the instinct that the boy had deserted after finding out just who - or what - was leading the ShinRa forces. If he had left the company, it was no-one's fault but Strife's own, and placing blame elsewhere was not only pointless but stupid. Stupidity was not something he tolerated in anyone, least of all himself.
He stopped his pacing across the carefully polished wooden floors of the mansion's library for just long enough to shoot Zack a look where he lounged, sitting against the wall with his buster sword beside him. He was entirely too calm for the situation they were in - but then, this was Zack Fair, and whatever else happened, the man never lost his grin or his - often unwarranted - sense of optimism.
"You know, Seph, if you keep on scowling so hard your face is going to freeze like that," the captain's voice began, interrupting his friend's silent soliloquy. "It's good to know that you're worried about Spike - God knows I am - but there's no sense wearing a hole in the floor with your pacing, princess."
The General ignored the jibe expertly - it was not the first time that Zack had used that particular epithet - and also the implication that he was anything more than simply concerned for the well-being of the company. The guilt prickled uncomfortably in his stomach, but he ignored it, rounding on Zack with a sharp look in his eye.
"Has Strife deserted?" Sephiroth shot the question at the other man with a cold fire in his voice, frown deepening again as he continued pacing across the floor rather than listen to his friend's advice. Zack, though not always completely rational, knew the other captain much better than he himself did, and had a better idea of where the blonde might be at the moment.
The dark-haired man watched him quietly, smile still in place likely because it hadn't yet had time to fade away, and stretched a leg out before responding.
"Nah, he hasn't deserted," he informed the other with a certainty likely born of his incorrigible optimism. "He just needs his time. Your revelation was pretty much a total shock to the system for him, you know. He couldn't just take news like that without doing anything at all." He paused then, giving his sword an absent rub that left smudges across the steel.
It was quite true, that Strife couldn't have taken news like that without doing anything - but the fact that Sephiroth hadn't instantly found himself guarding against the captain's fury-strengthened sword was almost incomprehensible to him.
"I do not have your confidence that he will return," Sephiroth responded after a moment, taking a few steps forward and glancing at the children they were guarding out of the corner of his vision rather than meet Zack's gaze.
"Take it from me, he's coming back," Zack replied quietly, and there was an overtone of - something - in his voice that Sephiroth couldn't quite lay his finger on. He didn't dwell on it, however, knowing that the chance of him figuring it out with his limited experience was almost nonexistent. "What makes you think he won't?" he asked then, standing up.
"I am… surprised, to say the least, that he did not attempt to injure me," he finally admitted, crossing his arms in what likely came off as a defensive position, though it was not intended as such. By "injure," he of course meant "kill" - he could see why the blonde, upon seeing what his general was, what he'd done -
The captain blinked, and the blank look interrupted Sephiroth's train of thought.
"Why in hell would you think he was going to attack you?" Zack asked, like the very suggestion didn't make any sense at all. "Cloud would never do something like that." This stirred up the unwelcome guilt again, and it bit unflinchingly.
"He killed a man for the same offense not even a day before," the general pointed out sharply, turning slightly just for the reprieve that came with movement.
"That was some murderer off of the streets who probably did that sort of thing for a living," the captain responded, voice incredulous as if he couldn't understand why he even had to explain such things to the other man. "He wasn't you." This was, of course, the most nonsensical thing that Zack had said all evening, but it was quickly pushed to the back of Sephiroth's consciousness as the other man continued. "He doesn't hate you, and he'll forgive you. I did, after all, didn't I?"
The truth of this last statement did not go unnoticed, though it was hardly proof that the blonde wouldn't hate him with every thread of his being - Zack was, after all, an extremely forgiving and also a rather illogical person. Sephiroth only hoped that this event wouldn't destroy a promising career - or hurt the blonde beyond recompense.
"He has not… been informed of the whole situation," the general finally murmured after a long moment. Perhaps he could - no, that was too much to hope, but maybe it would be enough to convince the blonde not to leave the company. "That should be remedied."
"…And that is something you should do yourself," the captain chided gently, and Sephiroth was jolted for a moment by just how well the other man read his intentions. "If it's important enough to you that you really want things explained to him, you should tell him on your own. It's not that I don't want to help, but I also suspect you're not going to need help as much as you think you are. Spike's a sweet kid. He's not going to bite your head off."
Perhaps not, but he still didn't want to see the pain, the accusation, in those eyes.
Their conversation was interrupted by the harsh brassy cry of the household telephones as they jumped in their cradles. He wrote it off as unimportant for the moment, as one of the boys - he could never remember their names - ran towards it instinctively and picked it up. His initial analysis was proven incorrect as the brunette took the phone off of his ear and covered it.
"He says it's for the General Sephiroth," the child informed them, with a nod towards the phone that indicated that the general should come over and pick it up, which he did with little relish.
Their conversation was short, and Sephiroth did little but grunt in response - he would never be lowered to say 'sir' to Heidegger - but his face was stonier even when he put the receiver down than it had been when he had walked over.
"So, what was that about?" his friend asked as the general swept back over to the other side of the library.
"We've been ordered by ShinRa to leave and cease to guard the children," he informed the other without preface, keeping his voice low so that said children would not hear and panic. "ShinRa's information was incorrect - the man we are after was not, in fact, a member of the Organization; his name is Vincent Valentine and he was a former Turk. Therefore, we have no further reason to assist this family." He paused then, giving a look to where the two boys were compiling stacks of books on the other side of the room.
"In fact," he continued, voice level, ignoring the look of shock that was beginning to grow on Zack's face, "doing so would be counterproductive to ShinRa's interests, because we are now attempting to form an alliance with the Organization."
"But we can't just leave these guys," Zack protested, blue eyes wide. "Seriously. I mean, somebody would just walk in here and kill them and it would be our fault."
"Not quite, there is still -" He stopped in mid-sentence, gaze growing distant and cold as several things all came together at once. Heidegger had said that ShinRa, as a measure of goodwill, would help the Organization to find a rogue assassin who had been plaguing them for some time - a rogue assassin who had been in the employ of the very family they were guarding. He remembered a shock of red hair and the enigmatic man who came with it, who was almost never actually at the mansion but away on "business" - strange for a bodyguard, but not for an assassin.
The only logical conclusion was that the Rogue had not yet left the family's employ. They had been working with him for their time at the mansion, and all they had to do in order to fulfill ShinRa's orders would be to wait there until the man returned.
Considerations flew through his head like arrows; such an act would make him not simply a soldier but a traitor - it would lead to the children's deaths and Zack's inevitable disappointment, possibly his hatred. This was not a decision to be made in a split instant.
Recovering his presence of mind, he realized that Zack was still waiting for the end of his earlier sentence. He began instead on a new subject, while he considered the merits of both courses.
"In any case, Strife will need to be informed of this new development," Sephiroth noted, crossing his arms as the fiery look was replaced by one that was distant, and calculating.
"That damn Heidegger," Zack muttered, standing up finally and putting his sword back on his back because there was nothing else to do with his excess energy.
"These orders actually come straight from the vice president. But that is of no consequence," he began, giving Zack a meaningful look. "because with the ending of your current mission, as of this moment you are considered to be on leave. Your actions, so long as they do not directly contradict company policy, are your own." He paused then, watching the other man. "As long as there is no sign of ShinRa company involvement, I see no reason why you couldn't stay."
The captain's eyes lit up at that, and he took a few steps forward in excitement.
"Thanks, man! You rock," he exclaimed, and the childishness of it was almost enough to make Sephiroth smile. "So you're off to find Spike, right?" he continued, with hardly a beat in between, before taking a set of keys out of his pocket and tossing them effortlessly to the general.
"I begged a copy of his keys off him probably six months ago," he continued with his easy grin. "Not that I'm advocating you barging into his apartment or anything, but if he's not answering and you think he's in there, this'll get you in, ok?" Taking an old piece of paper out of his pocket - possibly some kind of grocery list - he trotted over to a table, snatched a pen, and began to scribble out something on the crumpled material.
"…You're trusting me with these?" he asked, mildly surprised.
"Um, yeah?" Zack responded as he straightened and shoved the paper at Sephiroth's chest. "Why wouldn't I? It's for a good cause, right?"
Sephiroth shook his head rather than answer, taking the paper rather awkwardly.
"Until I return, then," he said with a nod, and turned out the door and into the entryway, hoping that the Rogue would not appear. This time, at least, his actions would be based on logic rather than instinct - and whatever the outcome, they would be his responsibility, and his alone.
XXX
"Is that so," Marluxia commented, smirk growing triumphant as he stood from his desk. His gaze focused intently on the messenger before him, harsh scrutiny never wavering despite his feeling of impending victory. "You're certain."
"Yes sir," responded the man, never wavering an inch even against Marluxia's steel. He was probably a Turk, judging by his posture and uniform - and his eyes were as unflinchingly self-confident as any Marluxia had ever seen. Sending a Turk to bring this information either meant that ShinRa was really serious about their offer of alliance, or that they had something to gain by making the Organization think so. Either could be manipulated to the assassin's purposes.
"The Vice President authorized this, then." A pause. "Is this a coup in the making?" The vice president of any corporation would not have the authority to command something so immense, without special power to back him up.
"If it is or if it is not, I don't believe that it is any of your concern," the dark-haired man responded. "The company will deal with company business." This was, of course, a more polite way of telling Marluxia to fuck off - and the intent was hardly veiled.
"Alright, then tell Rufus that I accept his offer, with the stipulations discussed. I look forward to working with you," he said with an inclination of his head as he sat back down, pretending to sign something just so that the Turk would leave and real work could be done.
"Likewise," the man responded, turning smartly on his heel to walk out the door with all of the precision of a professional, leaving an echoing silence behind him. The reverberation of triumph was, however, interrupted momentarily by the creak of the doors, re-opening to reveal Axel, as he rudely took a casual bite out of an apple as he walked in.
"That was Tseng," he noted with his usual gleaming insight, though this time the delivery was hindered by the mouthful of apple he hadn't quite finished chewing yet. "So, what, is ShinRa dealin' with us again?" he asked as he finished swallowing, covering the distance between them in what seemed like half a second.
Marluxia felt his smile turn almost instantly into a frown as the redhead walked up the steps to where his desk was positioned and sat himself comfortably on the edge, chewing as he looked over the paperwork without permission and smirking like anything.
Axel was one of his best operatives, but he could be damn infuriating sometimes.
"Axel," the elder began in what he hoped was a calm manner, "Get off my desk."
The other assassin then proceeded to ignore the order in favor of thumbing through the stacks of information with a clearly feigned interest.
"I would if you asked nicely," he responded, and the creases in Marluxia's forehead grew even deeper at the condescending tone. "So where's my girl Larxene? Doesn't she usually hang out up here nowadays?"
"She's out on assignment."
"Anything to do with this Rogue, by chance?" Axel asked, tone sly. So this was why he had come.
"No," Marluxia lied, sitting down in his chair and proceeding to re-organize all of the files that the other man had strewn about.
"We both know you're lying," the redhead replied, stretching languorously and taking another bite out of his apple. "And you didn't answer my question earlier. Is ShinRa dealin' with us again?"
"They will assist us in the search for the Rogue, yes," he responded, words measured carefully. "In return, we are to help them find a man they themselves are searching for."
"Ah, good, good," the man responded, finishing the apple with relish and setting the core down on a stack of papers, irreverent as always. "So I came up here when I heard about us losing Zexion - nasty one, that."
Marluxia knew that there was no love lost between Axel and the newly deceased, so the fact that the regret in his voice was at least partially feigned was no surprise.
"But in any case, that asshole needs to get what's coming to him," the redhead continued, giving the apple core an experimental twirl. "The Rogue, I mean. I'm volunteering to help out." There was a long, pregnant silence. "I know I can get that son of a bitch," he intoned, grin blade-sharp.
Something about the confidence, the intensity with which the other assassin spoke made an impression on Marluxia - he had never really considered having Axel assist them, but on second thought, it seemed wise. He was skilled, no doubt about it, and though he was a little bit flaky he would get the job done if it needed to be done.
"…You're sure, then."
"One hundred fuckin' percent," the redhead responded vehemently.
"Alright, then." A split second, and he had decided exactly how he would use this to his advantage. "You will help Larxene as she attempts to discover just what Xemnas's syndicate knows that we do not - you have more skill in subterfuge than she." But, when options were limited, what was available limited his ability to make the correct tactical choice.
"What, so ShinRa and the crazy-eyed bastard are both after this guy now, too? And we haven't been able to find him yet," he noted, half incredulous and half mocking, as he stood up smoothly from the desk and tossed the apple core into a wastebasket.
"…With your - and their - assistance, I'm sure that we can bring this to a swift end," the elder responded, and their eyes locked for a moment with an intensity that burned.
"Yeah," he agreed, expression razor-sharp in its focus - a smile so dangerous and feral that it almost made Marluxia doubt his decision. But the moment passed silently - they continued on as before, striding purposefully towards their respective destinies.
XXX
"I am going to leave soon," Vincent informed his caretaker quietly that afternoon - he had encroached upon the blonde Soldier's hospitality for far longer than he had ever intended, and he was quite capable of keeping himself out of trouble. He saw Yuffie freeze for a second, then continue on with cleaning the wound on his shoulder as if nothing had ever happened.
"Where are you going to go?" she asked, and the tinge of regret in her usually light voice was almost enough to make him reconsider. They hadn't known each other for long, perhaps, but there was something about the experience of having one's life saved that created a bond between the two, and he felt its tug in that moment. "You know ShinRa's probably turning the city upside-down to find you." Another pause. "You're good - really good, even - but there are a buncha Turks, not just one. If they find you, you know they're going to kill you."
"That is why I would prefer not to be seen. I will leave the city, for a short while at least," he responded, giving a passing look to his clothing - though it had been cleaned to the best of their combined ability, it was still rather bloodstained. Even without the cuts and stains, however, his ensemble was still… rather distinctive, to say the least.
"And do what?" she asked, with more than a little bit of force behind her words as her brown eyes flew up to meet his. "You don't have any viable skills except for killing people -"
"I -" he began, not quite sure how to respond, but she didn't give him that luxury.
"You were a Turk, killing people is what you did, dammit, don't argue with me," she shot back - and Vincent thought it a good piece of advice, so wisely did not respond.
"So," she continued, stabbing her finger violently at the air in front of his collar, "you have no source of income outside of a city - that's the only place where killing people would be particularly useful - and inside the city, ShinRa's going to pin your ass to the wall and leave your corpse hanging there as an example." There was another pause, during which she jabbed at his wound for a potent emphasis. "Are you not seeing the problem here?"
She did have a valid point, it was true - but he had thought of these things already, and he could not stay any longer. The place did not belong to him - or Yuffie, even - and he could neither stay there nor keep the girl away from her own life. She was not obligated in any way to help him, and she had nonetheless - but he would not allow himself to take advantage of her kindness any longer.
"Yuffie," he began gently, "You have been more than generous - but you have your own life, and have spent enough of it helping me."
"That's a dumbassed reason," she countered, eyes narrowing. "Did you think for even two seconds that I'd be helping you if that's not exactly what I wanted to do? You've probably had a lot of experience being a goddamn martyr, but you don't need to be one anymore, do you hear me? I am going to be pissed with you if you get yourself killed just because you haven't got a clue how to accept an offer of help!"
Rather taken aback by this, Vincent paused for a long moment, mind working quickly as he attempted to come up with some kind of response.
"Yuffie, I…" He didn't know quite how he was going to finish that sentence - I had no intention of being a martyr? I didn't know you felt so strongly? - but luckily, he was never given the opportunity to. Their conversation was interrupted by a precise rap on the door - and both of them froze then, barely daring to breathe as instinctive chills coursed down his spine in waves. A few moments of petrified thought were all it took for him to come to the correct conclusion - if the person on the other side of the door had to knock, then they were not Cloud Strife, and therefore a problem.
There was another sharp rap, and he heard Yuffie's breathing turn shallow as her eyes darted from side to side, searching for a path of escape. The only real options at this point would either be to fight the man at the door if this proved necessary, or break the window and leave - it did not open, and had not opened since the building's conception.
"Strife, open the door. I know you're in there," came a cold silver voice from behind the wood - and Vincent's throat went dry, because he recognized that voice. He knew then, with the cold certainty of the resigned, that if it came down to a fight - and likely, it would - neither he, nor the girl who had once saved his life, would survive the encounter.
XXX
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Sephiroth gave a huff that would have been frustration from anyone else, and knocked on the door sharply. In any other situation, with any other captain who had abandoned their duty, his course of action would have been clear - he simply would have taken the door down in one slash, and dragged the man - physically if need be - back to headquarters. If he resisted, he would have been killed.
Somehow, this time, it was different.
He took out the brass key that Zack had entrusted to him - carefully, ensuring that he didn't make any sort of warning noise - and inserted it into the keyhole.
The figure he found as the door swung open was most definitely that of Cloud Strife, nor was the one next to it. It took only a moment for Sephiroth to recognize the delicate, feminine features - because, he thought with more than a hint of irony, he never could manage to forget a face.
Life would be so much easier for him if he could.
"Vincent Valentine," he began, as much to make the scene real as anything else. "I would ask what your purpose is in General Strife's dwelling, but that seems to be apparent enough. The streets are not safe for Professor Hojo's assassin." Sephiroth remembered, with a clarity dulled none by time, that man - he remembered seeing that dark head clasped to the examination table, that mouth stretched in screams of horror that trailed off hoarsely into an agonized silence. He remembered his own screams, he remembered when they both learned to bite their tongues, though it drew blood.
He had not made the connection until he saw that face - in Hojo's laboratory, he had never learned this Valentine's name. He had never heard it, in fact, until Heidegger's arrogant call, when it was given as an enemy's. They had never been friends, before, never spoken - but he remembered. There was a certain degree of empathy that came from this realization - there were many days when he would have killed Hojo himself, given the chance - but he suppressed it. This man was an enemy.
"General Sephiroth," the dark-haired man said, hand moving slowly to his waist, where his weapon would be, "It's been a long time."
"I'm surprised you remember."
"I have forgotten nothing about those years," Valentine said coldly, tone conveying his hatred that even Sephiroth could not miss, even if his words did not. The girl next to the other man straightened, and the General saw her go for some kind of weapon - but he paid no heed. She was of no consequence.
"So," the former Turk intoned, hand grasping the hilt of his gun, "Are you here to kill Hojo's murderer? For the good of ShinRa?"
There was a moment when Sephiroth contemplated saying yes - until the realization came, with all the force of a lance, of just where they were. If Cloud was housing this man, it meant that either the man was a traitor, or that he had no knowledge of this man's transgression. Either way, this Vincent Valentine was probably the blonde general's friend.
The thought of Strife knowingly betraying them twisted his gut in an uncomfortable way, but even this was mediated as he realized the crime that the captain would have committed, even assuming the worst. Aiding and abetting the murderer of a man who got some twisted delight from inflicting pain on others did not seem, upon reflection, like such a sin, especially given the treatment that Cloud - all of the officers - had received from that hand.
"Well, whoever he is, General or not, he'd better explain himself if he knows what's good for him!" the - decidedly feminine - young boy who had been standing next to Valentine interjected unexpectedly, and Sephiroth's attention widened suddenly to include him, previously a nonentity in his mind. As he spoke, he put his hands on his hips in what was surely intended to be a determined manner, and stood up to his full, even if less than imposing, height.
"You can't just come barging into Cloud's place like this!" he continued, fuming. "Where did you get that key? Did you steal it? Threaten it off of him? I know for a fact that Spike would never give you one in a million years, 'cause he only gave one to his best friend about six months ago. So whatever you may be doing here, this is breaking and entering, mister!" he informed the other with a fierce look that was probably more than half for show, if the shaky hand hovering around where his weapon was probably hiding was any indicator.
Hardly pausing for breath in what was surely a remarkable feat of endurance, the boy continued, his gaze hardening.
"Listen, Mister General or whoever the hell you are, if you're here to kill Vincent then you're going to have to get through me first," he finished, a strength in his stance that said he was completely serious.
"Yuffie," Valentine began, probably intending to calm the younger, before drifting off - and then, as Sephiroth took a breath to respond, the thought came - a memory, back from his days in the Chinese campaign, of a woman nurse he had met with the same name. And, once he knew what to look for, he could see a gentle slope that might indicate a possibility of breasts.
So that, then, presented him with another problem, another angle to consider. If he performed his duty to the company, he would not only be killing a possible friend of Strife's - but someone unrelated, an innocent. A young girl, someone who was certainly at least a good friend of his, if not… If not a lover, a voice whispered to him, and Sephiroth's expression flattened, stoic, though his mind was in turmoil.
By letting this man go, he would be a traitor to the Company - and they were his only purpose in the world. Without ShinRa, he was unsure as to how he would survive - he was a soldier, he was born a soldier, and he didn't know how to be anything different.
But at the same time he could not, would not, commit such a sin again.
XXX
When it seemed like the only place left in the city to wander seemed to be back the way he had come, Cloud decided that he had avoided confrontation long enough. Time, in this case, did not seem to be particularly effective at allowing him to gather his thoughts - though it had been not quite unexpected. He was quite as painfully bewildered in that moment - wandering through the streets, scenery floating past in disconnected patches - as he had been when he was standing at Sephiroth's feet, and praying that he might wake up.
He turned against the wind, back towards the way from which he had come, after a moment of quiet deliberation. The rhythmic, almost painful, convulsions of his heart as it stomped against his delicate collarbone were difficult to ignore - but the terror that fueled them was worse. He knew it was inevitable, really - because with every breath, he was a few steps closer to betraying one of them. It was only a matter of time, now, before he had to choose which.
The intense dread that gripped his whole body made the journey unbelievably short, as it often will if left to its own devices. So, before he realized quite what had happened, he was standing inside the mansion with his back to the door and a key in hand - enveloped within moments by its distant, unaffecting warmth.
"Oh, Cloud! You're back," came a voice from somewhere to his left, and the blonde startled at this sudden interruption - a quick glance revealed the speaker to be Sora, giving the captain a shaky smile as he stopped ineptly sawing at a rather stale-looking loaf of bread. "I'm happy to see that you're ok," he continued, taking a step or two forward, wide blue eyes focused on Cloud's own.
The blonde almost cringed at the honesty in that childish expression - he had deserted his responsibilities as a guardian, he suddenly remembered. Of course Sora didn't hold a grudge for the abandonment, but that didn't make it any less appalling on his part.
"Where is everyone?" Cloud asked, pretending that none of this bothered him. "Shouldn't you be guarded at all times?"
"Zack's right outside the door," Sora responded, apparently not noticing the blonde's reticence. "Roxas desperately needed a shower, and refused to let us be in there with him, for obvious reasons, so Zack let me come in here and get some food while he watched both doors," he explained, giving a wave to the too-old bread on the countertop. After a moment's silence, the boy took a breath and changed the topic.
"I'm really glad you're back, Cloud. I was… kinda worried about you, you know?" the brunette said quietly, unwittingly prodding the coil of guilt in the soldier's stomach. I mean, you might not have noticed, but I was there when -" he paused then, like he wasn't quite sure what to say, "- when you and Sephiroth… Yeah." Another beat, longer this time.
"…You were," the blonde murmured almost inaudibly to himself.
"I heard the story," Sora told the older man with a hint of sadness. "And I just wanna say… Well, I'm sorry. Are you alright, Cloud?" he asked, though his tone made it clear that he already knew the answer.
"I'm fine," the blonde responded distantly, the words coming easily from his lips after so much practice. Pointedly avoiding Sora's inquisitive gaze, he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, "It'll be fine."
"So have you decided what you're going to do, then?" the boy questioned, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the counter.
Cloud was silent for a moment, wondering just why Sora was so curious, so concerned about the well-being of someone who was essentially his expendable bodyguard.
"…Why do you want to know," he muttered, voice full of more annoyance than perhaps he actually felt. Certainly, he was distracted, however - and another person's involvement added an extra layer of confusion to the mix.
"Because I'm concerned about you, Cloud," the brunette responded without any hesitation whatsoever, blue eyes locking with the soldier's own. "Because you're in trouble, and I'd like to help out in any way that I can, even if that's just by helping you think through it. And because friends do this sort of thing for each other, and I'd like to be friends, if you're ok with that," he pronounced firmly, with a quiet confidence born of naiveté rather than arrogance.
The blonde almost laughed then, because it was so absurd, so straightforward - there was nothing else, no outside factors to this decision. It didn't matter that Cloud was his bodyguard, and therefore being paid to be there, or that either of them could be killed at any minute - the only thing that mattered was what they wanted. Simple.
"I don't need your concern," he responded, voice quiet and serious. He didn't - especially not from a boy he'd known for such a short time - but he appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. "But thank you."
"You're welcome," Sora said, like it was nothing at all, and a comfortable silence hung between them for a moment. "So. You didn't answer my question."
That was true, he hadn't.
"I've decided," Cloud murmured, though he wouldn't meet the boy's eyes - he wasn't sure if he liked the way they saw through him. He knew what he would do, and he knew of the weakness that was inherent in that act, of loving Aerith's killer.
"And?" the brunette prompted, silently offering the captain a slice of the bread he had been cutting, which the other man refused with a wave of his hand.
"And… I can't blame him for what he's done," the captain admitted softly, valiantly trying to keep the shame out of his voice, though he knew that he would fail. "I can't. She - Aerith, I…" He drifted off then, unable to finish the sentence.
"Cloud," Sora began, and the blonde could feel that crystal gaze on him. "It's ok. You know forgiveness is a good thing, right?"
The soldier knew this, and remembered her gentle, sympathetic nature; but the guilt was natural, he mused, when his love for her was being slowly, inexorably eclipsed by another.
"Yeah, I know," he responded, shifting his weight uncomfortably as he searched for a more subtle way to avoid the boy's gaze.
"I mean, what General Sephiroth did was terrible - but it was also a mistake. And…" he began hesitantly, like this was really where he had been going with the whole conversation all along, but he still didn't quite know how to start. "I guess I wanted to know…. Remember when I said you sounded like you more than just admired the General? Do you still love him?"
This question took Cloud by surprise - he had never expected Sora to put it in those terms, especially not now, not after the admission and everything that had happened.
"Sora," he began slowly, mind still overworking the thoughts - but realized in an instant that that moment was the first time those words had ever fallen from his lips. "You are extraordinary, do you know that?" And he meant it, every word - the boy was perceptive and understanding, despite the environment in which he had been raised. He had an almost preternatural talent with people, it seemed - for understanding them, for understanding their motivations, and still believing that every person had the capability to do good.
"Thanks," Sora responded cheerily, kicking his legs a bit as they dangled, "but again, you never did answer my question. You have a habit of that, don't you?"
The silence that followed was cut abruptly by the creaking of the doorway, swinging open to reveal the General, face stony and imperious as always. Cloud, to his immense relief, caught his words before they escaped his mouth.
"General Sephiroth," he greeted, giving a short salute more out of habit than necessity. "You've returned," he noted tonelessly, face schooled so it revealed nothing. If the General had opened the door just a moment before - he didn't want to think of what that would have meant.
However, it occurred to him as the man acknowledged his greeting with a nod, he couldn't remember hearing the sound of the lock. But he ignored it, and everything it might have meant.
XXX
The fact that the next few hours could quite possibly be the most difficult part of this entire operation did not in the least stop Axel from not just walking, but sauntering into one of the Syndicate's many headquarters, completely and utterly confident. He had been in there more than once before, and no-one questioned his presence there - but then, no-one did in any of the many places where he could wreak havoc if the mood struck him.
Which was precisely the way he was feeling at the moment, though the havoc he would be wreaking was sadly not on the syndicate at hand - no, that was too much trouble even for him. The Organization was together because they had to be, and most of them didn't give a damn one way or another for each other. The Syndicates were a completely different breed - they looked out for their own. The perverse, bizarre kind of loyalty that populated the ranks of the various mobs was endlessly fascinating and repulsive - and so, something to watch at a great distance.
However, it served him well enough at this moment - Larxene was somewhere inside of this building, presumably either going through the mob's files or threatening people for the contents of their memories. All Axel needed to do now was find some sad sop who had enough standing that he could get in to talk to Xemnas, and direct him in Larxene's direction, to find her in the midst of her traitorous activities.
This would, primarily, break the alliance between Marluxia and Xemnas - and this was the most important part. But secondarily, it would also take Larxene wholly out of the picture; that girl was really too much trouble for her own good. She wasn't too smart on her own, but paired up with Marly's sadistic, obsessive-compulsive manipulation - well, that was the dream team from hell. Bringing her to the Organization had been a good idea when he had been ostensibly a part of it, but when he was against it - their union was not something he wanted to have to fight for any longer than he had to.
So, he wouldn't. With her dead and Marluxia following soon afterwards - interrupting that train of thought, a memory flashed unexpectedly through his mind; Zexion's funeral pyre, still warm from the tongues of flame that had consumed the corpse.
At least, he told himself with a kind of bitter amusement, if they've gotta go, they'll be going together.
With that thought, he pulled a rumpled map out of his jacket pocket - the same one with which Larxene had been provided - and eyed the path from where he was now situated to one of the many file and record rooms. If he knew her at all, that's where she'd go. Questioning people required too much subtlety for her.
The first room he encountered was empty, except for the two guards who assumed that since he had a key, he belong there, and didn't say a word as he quietly excused himself. Shortly down the hallway was another, again empty - but another five minute's walk and he was there, if he could judge by the sounds of shuffling and the occasional frustrated snort from behind the door. His black-gloved hand hesitated above the doorknob for only a moment - half a moment, even less - before inserting Marluxia's stolen key and entering.
What he found inside was unsurprising, to say the least - Larxene unsystematically going through a section of files that appeared to be all of the Syndicate's information on Roxas's family. Two incapacitated guards - possibly dead, actually; he wouldn't put hit past her - decorated the floor with their bodies, though there wasn't enough blood to suggest wholesale murder.
"I see you haven't wasted any time," he noted, enjoying the look on her face as she jumped, startled, and pulled her daggers out of wherever it was she kept them. Her posture relaxed almost instantly as she saw who it was, and her fierce expression turned to one of coy hostility as she straightened. "C'mon, Larx," Axel continued before her knives were away, "You should be paying more attention than that. I coulda walked right up behind you and killed you."
The assassin could and would have, if it had suited his purposes - but if he killed her himself, Xemnas might have been able to come up with proof that his people hadn't done it. That would not only leave the alliance between the Organization and Xemnas's Syndicate intact, but it would cast a shadow on Axel himself.
He couldn't afford that, especially not this late in the game. Not with so many eyes on him.
"You would have had a new asshole before you could blink," she informed him confidently, her smiling veneer making the words more dangerous rather than less. "So, what," she continued, shifting her weight from one foot to another, "Marluxia send you here too?" she asked - and those words, the redhead noted with a silent vindication, would have sounded her death knell if it hadn't already been tolling frantically against the coming day.
"Yeah," he responded, crossing his arms and leaning with a false carelessness against the nearest filing cabinet. His words were true even as they were lies - because his having been summoned there had nothing to do with the reason he actually was. "But listen, Sparky," he went on, giving her a quiet laugh as she winced at the old nickname, "I jus' came to check out how things were goin' on your end before I went and got things done my way," he informed her, grin very nearly cutting his lips as he struggled to keep it in.
"Oh?" she asked, visibly straightening at the information. "What is it, exactly, that you will be doing?"
"None of your business," Axel lied smoothly, uncrossing his arms and pushing himself up off of the wall easily. "This shit is too subtle for you anyway. You keep blasting away an' doing your thing."
"Fuck off," she shot back, tossing a file onto the table, unconcerned. "You should learn not to insult your comrades. Not the smartest thing I've ever heard."
Comrades? he thought silently. Prey, he corrected with a bitter amusement.
"…You need that lesson worse'n me," he informed her with a short, false laugh and a pointed glance towards the men on the floor as he opened the door. Then, with one quick, enigmatic glance over his shoulder, he melted away as if he had never been.
XXX
Frozen mid-motion, one black-gloved hand on the doorknob of the servant's entrance of the Mansion, Sephiroth leaned his head gently on the cold metal frame, concentrating primarily on regulating his breathing - not a difficult task for the General, in another situation. But the words drifting out from the space where the door had been left slightly ajar made it increasingly difficult to breathe.
I can't blame him for what he's done - the words replayed themselves in his head, Cloud's voice soft and almost ashamed. Mind still reeling from the sheer absurdity of it, he was unable to finish his motion and open the door, or even properly comprehend the rest of what they were saying.
At least, until a moment later, when one of the boy's questions pierced through the haze.
"Remember when I said you sounded like you more than just admired the General?" the boy asked, voice calm even as the general's thoughts went blank. A pause. "Do you still love him?"
What in all the hells? the man's mind responded, quite incapable of anything more coherent. The child is not in full possession of his senses.
"Sora… You are extraordinary, do you know that?" came Cloud's response, and the fact that he did not deny it outright struck something inside the General. Love - it wasn't possible, but… He had never even spoken to the blonde before a week past.
"Thanks, but you never answered my question," the boy noted, and slowly Sephiroth realized that whatever the answer might have been, he did not want to know. He did not want to think about the implications such a statement would have.
So, instinctively, he opened the door and stepped into the building, giving a careful glance to both Cloud and the child.
The blonde greeted him with a salute, but the general paid no attention - he would deal with what he had heard later, on his own time. He was not adept enough with people to consider something in such a short period - and in any case, he had a purpose.
"Cloud," he began, voice rumbling, "I have been out looking for you. We have important instructions from the Company," he noted tonelessly.
The blonde did not say anything, waiting for him to continue - ever the perfect subordinate. He took a deep breath, meeting the captain's gaze in what was almost a challenge, though he wasn't sure for what purpose.
"We have been ordered to abandon our posts here," Sephiroth informed the other curtly, military breeding showing its purpose. "ShinRa will no longer concern itself with the affairs or the fortune of this family."
"What?!" the child exclaimed, blue eyes wide. "I… you…"
"Sora, let me deal with this," Cloud murmured, glancing at the child and then turning to face the General. "We are ordered to leave these children to be killed, then?" he said, and the quality of his voice was strained.
"Yes," Sephiroth replied, closely watching the other for a reaction, though he didn't quite know what he was looking for. "But secondarily, upon visiting your living area, I encountered a wanted man using it as an infirmary.
His name was Vincent Valentine," Sephiroth continued, then paused, watching as the blonde's face grew pale. "And young girl with him, dressed like a man and presumably an accomplice. He is wanted for the murder of Professor Hojo," he informed the other clinically. "Do you know this man?"
"What did you do to them," Cloud asked, and the other was surprised to hear the blonde's voice shake with what might have been anger, fear - accusation.
The General repressed his urge to give only a half-answer to the question and watch the response - with anyone else, he realized, he would have.
"They have not been harmed," Sephiroth said, pretending that he was not attempting to reassure the other man. "I am not a man without pity - I would not knowingly kill those that a comrade considers friends, nor would I leave this family entirely without protection." He paused then, giving a glance to the door. "If you walk to the door, you will understand."
Silently, with a furtive glance at Sephiroth that he might not have noticed had he not been looking, Cloud did as asked - and within an instant, two very different figures had materialized at his side.
The blonde gave a look from one side to another - to Valentine, then to the girl Yuffie - and turned back around, a look of shock on his face. It struck Sephiroth in that moment how very young the captain was, certainly not older than his early twenties.
"What is this?" Cloud asked, uncertain.
"They are to be the family's guardians in our absence," the general informed the other - a rare, almost undetectable hint of a smile gracing his lips. "We are required back at ShinRa headquarters before five o'clock this evening." He gave a nod then, to both Valentine and the girl, as he took a step towards the door.
"If we are to arrive on time," Sephiroth noted, meeting Cloud's gaze properly for the first time, "I suggest we leave now," he continued, with hardly any of his usual coldness.
But the blonde did not move, did not take a step one way or another.
"Sephiroth," Cloud began, tasting his words before he spoke, "I'm not leaving," he continued, voice resolute.
Sephiroth stopped them, giving the other a searching glance.
"What do you mean?" he asked, though he was sure that he knew, already - this had been his fear all along. Clearly the man had rethought his earlier words - he did blame the general for Aerith's death, and would not serve under him. "If this has anything at all to do with me," he continued, words awkward, "I ask that you -"
"It has nothing to do with you, Sephiroth," Cloud said, cutting off the other's words with a small smile. "I'm sorry that it took me so long to come to this conclusion, but I don't blame you at all for what happened. It wasn't your fault, and I'm sorry that I made you feel like I thought it was, " he said, words earning questioning looks from both of those next to him.
Then why else would he…
"I just can't leave this family. Sora - and Roxas too; neither of them deserve to die. They're too young."
So that was it.
"You realize that you will die, one way or another - at least if you lose, you will die in battle. But if you win, you will be put on trial for desertion, then executed," the general stated, emotionless.
The blonde shrugged casually - judging from the look on his face, he appeared completely at peace with this fate. Unflinching, he met Sephiroth's gaze - and after a moment it was the General who broke it.
"So be it, then," he said, voice thick with an emotion he couldn't quite comprehend, and forcefully he strode through the three guardians onto the street, where he could feel Cloud's gaze piercing his back long after the mansion had evaporated into the distance.
XXX
XXX
1) I want to apologize for the terrible, terrible lateness of this chapter. I really do work on this fic every single day, I promise - but this chapter fought me like nothing I've ever written before, and I actually had to start from scratch several times.
2) In response to many comments about Axel's lack of morality: I urge you to consider the fact that the majority of things that he has done in this fic, he did in canon. He was either directly or indirectly responsible for the deaths of the majority of those who were in Castle Oblivion. For some reason, we forget that about him. This fic is, essentially, a way for me to attempt to explain the motivation behind his actions.
Comment if you liked, it makes me immeasurably happy.