Ballad of a Dove

Chapter 25 - Beginning of the End

by The Secret SOLDIER

The ornate room was mocking her. Aerith lay on the giant four-posted bed and clutched vainly at silk and brocade that slipped from her grasp like quicksilver. The gray stone walls loomed like giants; they were watching her and there was nowhere to hide. The rich carpet, the scarlet and gold draperies, did nothing to ease her pain.

Abruptly the girl cried out, throwing her head back against the unfriendly pillows. Her back arched painfully and she drew her legs up toward her swollen belly. Another burst of agony shot upwards from her abdomen, and she began to cry, alternately calling Zack's name and sobbing hysterically.

The contractions had begun about an hour before. Aerith didn't know the first thing about pregnancy — what little she did know had been learned by painful, firsthand experience here in this room — so she had no idea what to expect next. How long until she would give birth? As much as she was terrified of Sephiroth coming in to take her child, she was more afraid of giving birth alone. What if something happened? What if she died? What if the child died? Her fingers closed around the blankets and she screamed again. At the moment, it was hard to focus on anything other than the prayer that this pain would end soon.

Aerith gasped for breath and felt a slight easing in her belly. For the last several days, the child had been moving, twisting and turning into position, and she had gotten used to feeling it push against the walls of her womb. It moved again, a squishing, uncomfortable sensation, and the girl laid her hand on the taut skin.

"Just hold on. Be patient," she murmured breathlessly, so afraid that any movement would hasten the next contraction.

She lay still, taking the opportunity to catch her breath and steel herself for the next inevitable round of pain. It was hard to believe that women willingly conceived children — Aerith couldn't imagine any reward being so worthwhile as to willingly go through this sort of pain. But then again... her hand caressed her distended stomach. Inside there, only separated by a thin layer of skin and membranes, there was a beating heart. A black-haired, blue-eyed child was curled up, asleep, just waiting to take his first breath of the world's air.

Aerith paused. His first breath. Why was she so sure the child was a he? Likewise, why was she so sure that the child was Zack's? After all, at the time of conception, she'd slept with both Tseng and Zack in short succession. Her throat choked up at the thought of herself carrying the Turk's child for the nine long months. She'd done so with the hope of one day presenting Zack with an heir, a son, a life he helped create. The thought of showing him a dour-faced, almond-eyed child not his own — that was the basest form of betrayal.

She didn't love Tseng. What she'd done, she'd only done because she'd felt sorry for him — and because she had been so utterly lonely. If Zack had been there, if Zack had been there, she never would have done what she did. And now she was carrying the proof that she'd cheated on the one man she never wanted to hurt...

Cringing at the mild spasms of pain, Aerith gingerly sat up. Regardless of whose child it was, it was hers, first. And her child was not going to be born unprepared.

What was needed for birthing a child? She racked her brains. Warm water, clean towels, something to sop up all the blood...

Aerith swung her legs off the bed and stood, stooped over like an old woman. Slowly she shuffled to the little partitioned-off lavatory, and filled her tin cup with water. Unfortunately the only temperature the faucet gave was tepid, but it was better than nothing... even if it was only a cupful.

She placed the cup on the bedside table and eased herself back onto the mattress. It took her only a glance to decide that the bedding was too filthy after nine months of constant use; there was no way she would wrap her child in that. There wasn't much choice, though. There was the coarse red cloth that had covered the stack of food crates. It was passably clean, but Aerith didn't bother rousing herself from the bed to go get it. It was far too rough —

Her head tipped back and her eyes squeezed shut at the sudden onset of more pain. The contractions were coming faster now, closer together. Shouldn't her water have broken first? She didn't know. Either way, she was running out of time before labor started in earnest. She needed more time to prepare!

Fighting back a wave of panic — and nausea — she pushed herself upright again. Her pink dress, threadbare and by now a little dusty, was draped over the back of the room's only chair. It had been there for months, since she'd discovered the time materia and her fears of voyeurism were somewhat dispelled. It was soft, clean, unused...

Aerith smiled slightly. "Sorry, baby boy, but pink it is," she murmured, inching her way toward the chair. Once there, she clutched the pale fabric to her bare chest. "Oh..." With a quiet groan, she sank into the chair, bowing her head. Her knees felt far too weak for the task of carrying her back to the bed so she stayed where she was, surveying the room hopelessly. She probably ought to stay off of the bed, regardless — giving birth there would soil every blanket there was, leaving her with no clean place to sit or sleep or nurse her newborn.

Of course, a chair was hardly practical for giving birth on anyway, but what other choices were there? The floor? The wooden crates, now empty, that had held rations? There just weren't any facilities available. Which brought another chilling thought: Sephiroth may have never intended for her to give birth in here. Surely he wouldn't risk the death of the half-Cetra and her child that he'd worked so hard to capture and imprison. He might be monitoring her all along, ready to come in and take her away when the true signs of labor showed.

And there was nothing she could do to prevent him.

oooOoOooo

Zack rushed madly down corridor after corridor, throwing himself headlong in pursuit of the elusive scent of Aerith. Somehow, whether by luck or fate, he chose all the right doors and turns, and the yearning feeling in his mind grew stronger until he could almost taste her. But there was something else too, a sickly green-yellow feeling that made his insides go queasy. It wasn't Jenova; he breathed a prayer of thanks for that, but it was something unfriendly in a dull, mechanical way.

He rounded yet anther identical corridor and was confronted by a heavy steel door just like every other he'd seen in this place. He threw it open, his momentum carrying him several steps into the next room, before he suddenly froze in place.

In a corner, set above another door, was a pulsing time materia, the source of his uneasy feelings. More important than that, though, was the room visible through a wall-length window set into the opposite wall.

Zack slowly walked forward, one hand on his sword hilt. Aerith's presence was strong here, but he couldn't see her, and that had his hackles rising. Still a captive... He hardly spared a glance into the extravagant room through the window, until something made him stop and look closer.

At first, the room had looked deserted and unused. Probably Sephiroth's room, he thought, until he noticed how worn the carpet was in places. The bedclothes were wrinkled and rumpled haphazardly. There was a stack of crates in one corner, and a singular lack of decorations or personal effects. That, coupled with the impenetrable materia over the door, led to a new conclusion. Prison cell? The time barrier was active, meaning that the room was occupied...

Zack stepped closer to the glass and his gaze swept around the room more observantly. Still, no sign of life — There. Movement. A scrap of faded cloth that had been draped over the back of a chair suddenly vanished. No, not quite vanished... Squinting, Zack peered closer. It hadn't disappeared, it had simply moved far too fast for the eye to see. Even enhanced vision wasn't fast enough to follow its progress, however, so Zack could only assume that the room's occupant had picked it up and done something with it.

It made sense why he couldn't see well into the room. If time was sped up in there, then the prisoner would be moving at several times the speed of the outside world, meaning that any movement on their part would only be seen as a brief blur by observers. Conversely, if time was slowed down in the cell, then the prisoner would hardly seem to move at all, compared to... —!

Aerith! That's why her presence is so strong here!

She's in there!

Zack could have danced for joy. He wanted to sing, to dance, to shout his lungs out until the whole world heard him. He'd finally found her!

He practically flew across the room to the materia-guarded doorframe and snatched at the glowing orb. A small charge of electricity stung his fingertips and he jerked his hand back.

"Shielded, huh?" Unfazed, he reached for his sword. "I'll see about that."

"I think not, SOLDIER Fair."

That voice. He would know that voice anywhere, even if it came from the depths of hell.

Zack slowly turned around. "Sephiroth."

The Silver General was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and a slight smirk toying with his lips. He looked much the same as he always had when he and Zack had been comrades-in-arms in the Tower. Same eyes, hair, coat, same detached mocking expression.

Zack tightened his fingers around his sword's hilt to steady himself. "Long time no see, Seph. How have you been?" He intentionally kept his tone light, without any mention of Aerith or the materia or the reason for his whole journey up here. Sephiroth had never been much of a social person, and keeping the conversation on topics he wasn't comfortable with, meant that the ball would be in Zack's court.

However, Sephiroth failed to rise to the bait. "I've been well, Fair. Busy, but well," he answered smoothly. "You must be tired after coming here through that blizzard earlier. Care to join me for refreshments?"

Frowning, Zack stared at him silently. Sephiroth had never been dumb, and his wit was showing now more than ever. What had Zack been thinking, that he could outmaneuver the world's greatest soldier?

"No." He shook his head abruptly. "I'm only here for Aerith. You turn her over to me, and we'll never have to see each other again. I'll stay out of your way for anything you've got planned in the future, if you'll leave her and me alone. Deal?"

"I'm afraid I can't promise that. You have no idea how valuable the Cetra girl is to me. Once she is impregnated with Jenova's cells, then the child she bears will become the ultimate being. It will have the power to call upon the Planet and harness the Lifestream, yet it will also follow the will of Mother. With the power of the Planet at her disposal, Jenova will be able to seed new worlds with her species and proliferate her race across the universe. So, no, Zack. I will not give you the girl. Although, I suppose if you're willing to wait until I'm done with her in nine months or so, then you can have her freely..."

Zack's expression had been growing progressively grimmer as Sephiroth spoke. Now his face was set in a partial snarl, his mouth sneering to show his teeth, and his bright eyes glinting like cut glass.

"If you think I'll back down and let you rape Aerith, then you're a damn fool, Sephiroth. The 'proliferation of Jenova'! Is that all that drives you? Don't you have any humanity left?!"

But my son, remember the Nibelheim girl? You did the same thing to her as my eldest will do to the Cetra. All for me. All because I told you to, because I will continue. I will spread.

"Humanity?" Sephiroth spat. "Humanity is what made me who I am. That human, Dr. Hojo, turned me into a tool for Jenova. I'm merely fulfilling my destiny — and ensuring that more monsters like me won't be created ever again."

"Yeah, by destroying the world and everyone in it!"

"If that's what it takes, then yes."

Zack didn't have words left to respond to that. Words probably wouldn't have gotten him very much farther, anyway — Sephiroth had always only responded to action. Taking the initiative, hoping that it just might be physically possible to take the Silver General by surprise, Zack whipped his sword from his back and charged.

The black-haired SOLDIER lunged, throwing all his weight into the thrust, but Sephiroth spun around out of the blade's path. Having half expected that, Zack recovered quickly, throwing his sword up in time to counter a blow by the suddenly-materialized Masamune. Steel grated together, spitting sparks where the two edges met. Zack gripped his hilt with both hands, giving a powerful shove backward. Sephiroth retreated a step, regained his balance, and unleashed a flurry of lightning swings.

Zack ducked and rolled, but such evasion would only work for a moment. He somersaulted to his feet and leapt straight up as seven feet of steel sliced the air right under him. Kicking off a wall, he angled his fall just outside of Masamune's range. Zack had time to land on his feet and turn to face Sephiroth before the general was attacking again, forcing Zack to jump back or be cut in half.

"Not bad, Seph," Zack grunted, still evading and looking for another opening to charge. "I think you're faster than when we last fought."

"You're misremembering, Fair. You took victory the first time we fought, but in the reactor, as I recall, I defeated you soundly. Or did falling down all those stairs jar your head?"

Zack growled but forced himself to remain focussed. If he slipped up now and threw all he had into attacking, Sephiroth would kill him for sure. As it was, it still wasn't looking good — Zack was constantly on the defensive, losing ground out of sight of Aerith's prison. Clearly swordsmanship wouldn't win this battle for him, but what other way was there to defeat Sephiroth?

Suddenly countering one of Masamune's swings, Zack jabbed his own blade upward so the Meteor-forged steel slid down to the hilt. This was probably a terrible idea, it would most likely end with him in a pool of blood, but since Sephiroth would never imagine Zack pulling off a move so stupid, it just might work. Zack just prayed that the Shinra-manufactured blade, notoriously flimsy, wouldn't break. With Masamune temporarily trapped in the metalwork of the hilt, Zack twisted his sword with all his strength.

Masamune didn't break, of course, but by some miracle neither did his own sword. Obviously Sephiroth was unprepared for such a maneuver, because his grip was loose enough that the long sword slipped from his hand. Zack let go of his own hilt, letting the momentum of his move carry both swords into the wall several feet away.

Sephiroth blinked for a moment, then dove for his sword. If he could get his hands on both of the blades, this fight would be over very shortly. Zack had anticipated that move and he jumped up as Sephiroth leant down. The window of opportunity was very small, but just as the silver warrior got his fingers around the wrapped hilt of his weapon, his face turned up to track his opponent. Zack kicked downward, all the strength in his powerful legs smashing straight into Sephiroth's face. The man went over backward, one hand out to catch himself and the other flailing Masamune in Zack's general direction.

Zack dodged the uncoordinated swings easily, but by the time he'd gotten close enough to land a blow from his fists, Sephiroth had regained his composure. From his position still on the ground, the silver-haired man arced Masamune toward Zack, enough to make him leap out of the way. Then Sephiroth followed up with the simple maneuver of grabbing Zack's ankle and pulling.

As he was falling backward, the SOLDIER managed to get in another kick to Sephiroth's face, but the man seemed hardly to notice. Hardly seemed to take any damage, either — Zack would have expected at least a broken nose by now.

But while they were both on the floor... Zack sprang like an animal, landing on the general's sword-arm and pinning Masamune safely out of the way. Sephiroth's left fist connected with Zack's chin, snapping his head back, but his hands found their own way to the silver man's throat. Zack concentrated on pouring all his strength into his fingers, ignoring the blows landing on his face and body. Part of him enjoyed the strangled sounds Sephiroth was making as he struggled for breath, the way the man's fists seemed to land a little lighter each time as his strength was sapped. Another part of him was horrified at what he was doing to his former friend.

What if Cloud's like this? Do I have the strength to kill him?

But as much as he hated it, if Zack didn't win this fight then he would die for sure, and no one would save Aerith. He clung to the man's throat with desperation. The fight was so close to being won. Then he could break Aerith out of her cell, hold her close, and forget how stiff and rigid Sephiroth's body felt under him, how frantically his fingers bit at his arms, how livid green his eyes were.

Then pain exploded through him as Sephiroth's knee connected strongly with his crotch, and his fingers momentarily lost their hold. Zack quickly grappled for his hold again, the pain-induced adrenaline making him stronger, but Sephiroth had already drawn in a breath and that was all he needed to keep fighting. The silver-haired man lunged upward, biting down on Zack's left hand until blood spurted. With a shout, Zack used his other hand to slam the man's head into the ground. Sephiroth's teeth lost their hold.

Zack swung a desperate haymaker at his opponent's face, but he knew now that this was a losing battle. Throwing his weapon away, thinking he could beat Sephiroth at hand-to-hand, was the height of stupidity. As a last hope, he threw himself off of Sephiroth and rolled toward his sword where it had fallen at the base of the wall. Long before he reached it, though, steel sliced through his calf and he tumbled away out of reach, down the hall. Away from his sword.

He was going to die.

Both combatants were now out of sight of Aerith's room, their fight having taken them down the hallway outside the observation room. Zack thought he could find the place again, especially with Aerith's scent guiding him. And so, without any other choice, he turned and fled. Sephiroth followed.