The summer had been a cruel one and even the early autumn continued with transforming the landscape past the edge of the small town into barren wastelands. Sephiroth's silver hair was shining in the sun, but all he could perceive was bitterness and grey skies. His eyes were clouded with shame, soul clouded by corrupt thoughts that he was fighting with every breath. He had told no one, but the voice of Jenova was whirling ever so vibrantly in his head. Why wasn't she left in the wastelands? Vincent had been denied from the very beginning of his return. When the emotions faded and the relationship turned purely platonic, life became more than just empty. Sephiroth slept in a separate room, not giving his memories of sensual moments a chance to root in this life. He denied all that Chaos had given, eradicating every blissful sensation he harbored. The erotica was dead and he had no will to revive it. His body was cold to touch and his mind as sharp as the blade of a knife.
Sephiroth was meditating on the roof of the small tavern just above the town square where Vincent has rented a room since a while back. Sephiroth received a room next to Vincent's, but once the doors were closed, neither trespassed over the threshold of the other. During the days, Vincent updated the former General on what changes had occurred since his death, but nothing personal was ever revealed. They never spoke of the dreams that bound them. The platinum angel tried to hide from those haunting images, but the remnants of his desire still tainted the stillness from his mind; especially when sensing the restlessness of Chaos from the previous night. The Daimon was still calling, but not as blatantly as he had done during the first few days of Sephiroth's arrival. It was more like silent mourning that was carried to him through an arrow of faint perception. Almost like a whisper from a ghost. The angel had been staring at the ceiling, like so many nights before, listening to this whisper whilst fighting the desire within. He had to kill it and with each new morning, the whispers grew weaker and weaker, but they never stopped. Vincent's eyes lost their shine, but his complexion was more peaceful. Sephiroth had realized that much of his sensual connection was due to Chaos for the Daimon wanted to feel alive, and thus, it was not even certain that there had ever been sincere emotions behind those stolen moments. Sephiroth threw away his feelings, and kept the memories secret to the world. But deep down inside, he knew those moments were in fact more sacred than secret and consequentily, their remnants were cherished in concealment.
Sephiroth opened his eyes, his feline pupils contracted to a narrow line across a sea of green. The fading sun cut through him, leaving traces of pain in his head, but anything was better than the memories of the dream world. He hadn't seen Vincent for days, but when the Daimon lord returned to his humble home at night, Sephiroth could sense the calling of Chaos as vibrations through the ether. Calling, searching, luring and silently pleading…. It was waiting for the faintest acknowledgement to carry Vincent across the hall to the presence of the angel. But Sephiroth refused to give in to the calling. He was a Soldier. A Soldier was strong, never emotional. He had more important things to do than to play with simple pleasures.
Indeed, after Sephiroth's return, Vincent and he took refuge in a small town in the outskirts of Midgar where he had rented a room above a tavern whilst having duties to perform as a hunter. It was a rather secluded place with a tiny market, which was filled with people during the weekends, but most of which were simple farmers with no attachment to the busy life of the big cities. They hardly ever questioned anything, and mostly didn't bother to interfere with anything that didn't directly affect their lives. The small guesthouse had accommodated only a few guests at a time, considering they had five rooms. When applying to stay at this friendly little guesthouse, Vincent had asked for a room, and was immediately corrected by Sephiroth who asked for two. From the corners of his eyes, he saw Chaos flash in Vincent's eyes, but disappeared as quickly as he appeared. It was a victorious moment for Vincent, who welcomed the rejection although his heart was chased by the Daimon pounding it wildly. They received two keys and spoke no more that day. From that day on, Sephiroth never visited Vincent's quarters, but respectfully kept a distance. Chaos, however, was suffering. And the angel knew. When the night fell upon them, the Daimon stood next to the sleeping angel, watching over him until the morning broke through and Vincent awoke. The spirit had no choice but to retract into the body and accept the division between worlds. Without Vincent's body, he was just a powerful weapon, but a spirit nonetheless and though he leaned over Sephiroth to touch his face, the hand broke the surface of the skin and sunk through the body as if it had been plain air.
At times when Vincent drifted into slumber before the angel, Chaos would appear in mirrors and reflections in windows, but never able to make the contact he so desperately wished for. Sephiroth had witnessed many times, as he sat in front of a mirror, staring coldly back at the Daimon who watched his steps from behind a glass surface. Taken over by pity, Sephiroth had attempted once to reach out and placed a hand on the mirror. Chaos returned the gesture, but fingers could not intertwine and thus, the Soldier moved away, smashing the glass with a powerful blow and left the image of Chaos shattered on the floor. He had left the spirit in the past and once again armored his heart against affections. Vincent rejoiced at this, and though Chaos was free to roam once his lord was sleeping and disowned to the waking world, he could not feel the emotions revived by the flesh, the envy of the spirits.
There were too many things in the air at the moment. All the warnings, all the powers he had lost, all the heavy clouds that he saw when everyone else was basking in sunlight, the long talks he had with Nanaki and the visions of the crystal lady. Sephiroth shook his head. Crazy! Crazy dreams and crazy life. Nothing was like he had remembered it.
No, that was not true. There was one thing that did remain the same. It was a name that he found accidentally on Vincent's cell phone when asked to search for a name and a number. Whilst searching through the list of names, he stumbled upon a pearl from the past. He had forgotten all about her and yet, she was the only person who could have saved him from all that hell. His caretaker and mistress, Sïana Khin. Upon asking, Vincent had explained his connection with the now fifty one year old woman. He hadn't even left out the explicit details, which at first seeded a thorn of jealousy within the angel, but then he realized that Miss Khin was never the kind of person who could be controlled. Not her will, nor her sexuality, even if he sometimes wished quite the opposite. That was what Sephiroth admired about her. She had a strong sense of justice, morale and ethics and was fair, although not always kind. And she was impeccable when it came to dignity. Besides, Sephiroth had been out of her life for decades. He had denied her a long time ago; wordlessly distancing himself until he broke off all contact completely. But that was only true on the outside for inside his recluse mind, Sephiroth often thought about her and the pleasantness they had shared. The pleasurable memories, however, were slowly erased and veiled with time until completely destroyed by the madness the young General descended into. It was sad and a tragic loss on many levels and it had left him hungry. As a consequence of the emptiness, a strange hunger had developed inside of him that confused and frustrated Sephiroth and made him vulnerable. It was an emptiness he aimed to fill with the battles, the advancement in career, responsibilites and power. But still, it remained a hunger, an emptiness that claimed his traquility. For that, he needed something more. Something only his father had provided him with and only a few knew about. It made Sephiroth calm and made him forget about the rest of the world.
Suddenly, a powerful surge of fire coursed through his veins, making his head spin and his veins protrude. It hurt, it itched and it made him feel hungry again in the most peculiar way. He recognized that hunger; it was calling from the past, felt it most clearly, and he also knew where it originated. He had long thought it was over, but since he had been back among the living, this itch had grown stronger and stronger, making him irritable and a nuisance to those around him. But he was fighting it as best as he could; his addition to Mako. As the fire spread inside he grabbed his wrist in an attempt to quench the heat, almost as if it had originated from the tip of his fingers and moved up the arms. It was a brutal addiction and his greatest secret. Indeed, no one had known that the great General was in need of a fix from time to time to stay sane and not to drift off in a semi-conscious state where he would remain trapped in his mind between dream and reality. When returning from the battlefields or isolated in the comfort of his own home, he would infuse his blood with a capsule worth of refined Mako and sink into oblivion until the craving stopped. No one knew. How could they? No one cared. No one visited or knocked on the door to stop him from falling into a dangerous downward spiral. The General was left alone to fight his own feebleness. No one was there to catch his fall. If it hadn't been for the addiction, his lack of sleep and the destruction of his mind through slow degeneration, maybe he would have been stong enough to withstand Jenova's influence. Maybe… maybe… there were too many maybes and no answers. He had fought it many times, tried to stay away, shivering in the dead of the night as the power of the Mako dissipated from his veins leaving him with a destructive craving that felt like acid in his bowels. It always ended the same way; him giving into the drugs and abusing them in silence. The seraph studied the back of his hands, looking at the veins protruding and pulsating. He had been free from the drugs since his return, but something inside him craved it again and more of his waking time was spent on thoughts of how to stop the hunger from returning. It was consuming him and the thoughts on his past, the wars, and the horror he was responsible for didn't make it easier to fight the urge to forget it all and drown the memories in a sea of artificial euphoria. No! He needed something to take his mind off the pain.
Sephiroth caught sight of a tiny feather soaring through the air and removed his gaze from the sky to follow the down as it landed before him. More pleasant memories came rushing back and Miss Khin was the center of it all. Suddenly he remembered as if it had been only yesterday. He was eleven years old and the tests were taking place more and more often. There were so many changes going on in his body that it left him exhausted with both pain and discomfort. He awoke one night sensing an incredible itch just over his right scapula and the sheets beneath him were wet with blood and some thick fluid dripping off his skin. Frightened that he was getting seriously ill, the little boy stumbled with great effort into the bathroom. He had been kept in a sealed environment that provided him with all he needed, yet now that he was battling agony and bleeding, he felt ever so lonely and abandoned. He turned on the lights, hardly able to move his right arm as the pain cut through him like the blade of a knife. It was a deep and wrenching torment. With his heart in his throat the little boy threw his pajama top onto the floor, scrutinizing with terror the pungent fluid soaking the fabric. He slowly turned his back to the mirror and realized he had a deep wound on his scapula. It was a gaping gash, like a slash across his back, it was open and oozing. The skin on the edge of the cut was grey and discolored, folding outwards and peeling in layers that were separated by blisters building up from within. Some of the blisters contained something that resembled black hair or down, and when he scratched them with his little fingers, the blisters burst releasing their viscous content and exposing delicate buds of alien tissue.
Sephiroth had never panicked so much before or after. He hit the alarm button and called for attention. By the time the caretakers arrived to his room, he had scratched up most of the blisters, threads of black sticking through his bleeding skin and he was huddled up on the floor, crying. Miss Khin was the one to pick him up and she forcefully commanded everyone to leave the room. After picking him up from the floor she took him into the shower. The water stung his back like needles, but it overshadowed the deep pain and Sephiroth calmed a little. His head was filled with dread, his body exhausted and limp as he was burdening Miss Khin's embrace. She cleaned his wounds and attended his every need until he could speak again. Sephiroth remembered her every word.
"Don't hate it," she had whispered comfortingly. "It's beautiful. You are becoming a little angel."
"I don't want to be an angel," the little one protested dissolved in her arms. "I want to be normal again."
Miss Khin only smiled back at him saying; "Of course you want to be an angel. Everyone does. I would too if I could."
Sephiroth lifted his head, sniffling and gazing up at her with big, innocent eyes.
"You would?"
She caressed him over the face, assuring she would give anything to become an angel.
"Think of all the things you can do," she said dreamingly. "Think how wonderful it must be to fly so high… way above the clouds. Just think… standing on a cliff above a roaring sea, when the wind tears your hair and wraps itself around you so strongly that it almost pulls you with it. It sometimes feels like it's the wind asking you to come and play. But I have no wings. I would very much like to just take a leap and let it carry me wherever it wants. Can you imagine, baby? Can you imagine following the wind wherever it goes?"
She kept on caressing his round, little cheeks and holding him close and soon he felt confident knowing he would sometime in the future be able to follow the wind. To take that leap…
Sephiroth stood up and watched his shadow grow on the rooftop until part of it disappeared over the ledge of the building. Miss Khin had been right, but he had never taken the chance to follow the wind. And why not ever with her? She would have given anything to fly. Why hadn't he shown her what it was like? Where was she now? A dove landed near his feet and as he moved it took off again. Sephiroth watched the bird seek refuge among the rich leaves of a tree close to the building and took yet another step towards the edge of the roof. Should he take the leap? He stood at the very edge now, toes free from support of the concrete beneath him. Just a leap and learn to fly again. He took a deep breath and held it, closing his eyes.
"No!" he rebelled from within. "Not everyone wants to be an angel," Sephiroth spoke to the void. "I never wanted it…" Finally, he stepped away from the edge and left the rooftop with frustration and sadness.
… And across the space between them, deep in the belly of a black lake, Aeris held Masamune close to her heart. Sephiroth was not ready to be united with his past as of yet. If he would not take the leap, she would not seek his presence.
Sephiroth washed the anguish off his salty skin and let the droplets evaporate in the air as he dialed a number to his past; a number he had stumbled across by chance in Vincent's cell phone. He paced nervously to and fro in his room as the automated voice revealed; "Extension three-five-one-six is on holiday. If you wish to be connected to a customer service representative, please say 'connect'…" Following the simple instructions, Sephiroth was swiftly placed in contact with an overly enthusiastic representative, who had obviously just returned from a relaxing vacation, judging by the joyful attitude.
"This is Melanie speaking, how may I help you today, sir?"
"Good morning, may I ask when the person at extension three-five-one-six will be back from vacation?"
"Just a minute, sir, let me check this for you, sir, whilst you are waiting, sir," the young lady was bubbling like a pent up kettle, but the essense of her message was not encouraging; the past seemed evasive. "I'm sorry, sir. It says here that Miss Khin should be back already but she has not yet checked in to the office. She may be working from another location. Shall I leave her a message, sir?"
"No, that's fine. Thank you."
She was still Miss Khin. After all this time, he had figured she would have a different name or perhaps a double. No. Miss Khin had always been a strong lady, so if she had ever agreed to marriage, it would have been the husband taking up her name. Very much likely, thus the angel could not exclude that she had perhaps built up a life alongside someone else during his absence. After brooding for a few gloomy minutes, Sephiroth felt his room much too small and shrunken. The walls seemed to be closing in and he became restless. He needed to get out of this building, away from these walls and to take a deep breath where there was enough space. He walked up to an antique wooden closet with nicely ornamented doors and opened it. The clothes hanging in there were quite unlike the ones he used to wear. The Soldier's gear and the black leather coat had been replaced by the everyday casual outfit of what every other man was wearing; denim or chinos, shirts or tops and jackets or coats. The heavy boots had transformed into lightweight footwear and the accessories, once being his sword Masamune, were now missing.
Down in the lobby, he stumbled upon Zack who had a habit of paying frequent, nearly daily visits since their return. The brunet was true to his style as always; dressed in the latest fashion, a teal colored tanktop with an expensive brand name printed in black, distorted letters over the chest, sports sandals and fashionably accessorized with kautschuk and stainless steel bracelets and matching necklace. The object that completed his look was of course a pair of sunglasses.
"I thought I'd find you here," Zack announced with a beam and subsequently suggested they should make the best of such a lovely day and take a stroll to the center of the closest suburb. It was a small town, hardly a few thousand people, but still big enough to find everything one needed. Sephiroth couldn't come up with a reason to oppose and anything was better than being left alone with his thoughts so he accepted the offer of a brunch.
"Why are you guys living so far out?" the brunet asked, once they got seated in his new rental cabriolet and sped off through the desert road.
"Vincent's idea," Sephiroth defended himself. "He thought the further we are from ShinRa and his goons the better for the time being. Can't take the risk of being seen."
"Why not just blend in?" Zack suggested, but as he saw Sephiroth rolling his eyes and shaking his head, the brunet burst into laughter and corrected himself. "Yeah, well, it might be a bit of a problem in your case… you sort of have a 'unique' look, don't you?"
"You're so kind, Zack," Sephiroth smirked. "Remind me to thank you later." Suddenly, those last words left a trace on his tongue and Sephiroth's mind was washed over by something more serious. "Actually," he continued with a deep intake of breath, "I really should thank you."
Zack cocked his head, lifting his eyebrows with surprise. "What for?"
"For not leaving me alone," Sephiroth sighed and turned to face Zack. He watched the younger man's kind profile turning staid. "I mean back there… in the darkness… you know."
Zack nodded and produced a little smile. "Don't mention it."
Sephiroth accepted Zack's words, but deep down he knew there were not enough ways to thank him for the sacrifice the brunet had made to embody the concept of 'brothers in arms' in those nightmares. But as requested by Zack in a mix of gratitude intertwined with the appeal of not bringing the nightmares back even in thought, they left that subject. The platinum man turned on the radio and tuned into a nerve-wrecking beat that only he and Zack, and a select few of a different generation, could appreciate. With the fast pace of the sound, Zack stepped on the pedal and the car hovered with a highly illegal speed into the nearby town center. As they came to a stop in an underground parking lot, Zack got out to buy permission tickets and upon locking the car, he called for Sephiroth's attention.
"Hey, Seph! Wait up. Listen…"
Sephiroth halted in front of the elevator that would take them to the street level.
"Tell me."
"You have a comb, or a brush, or something?" Zack caught up with him.
"What for?"
The brunet tilted his head asking; "What for? You look like you were struck by lightning. Look."
As the elevator door opened, Sephiroth caught sight of his tousled mane, resting against his head in a heap that resembled…
"… a poodle," Zack described his artistic interpretation of the resemblance. "You really need to do somethin' about that do. If you ask me, you give the word madcap a whole new meaning."
"I didn't ask you," Sephiroth grunted and stepped into the elevator. "You know, my friend, I'll repond with your regular comment of 'suck me sideways', to your benevolent statement,"
"Woa… did you just use a set of words in an indecent combination? Considering the stuff that's been said about you, maybe I should've given it a try when we were camping by the lake-side with Aeris," floated from Zack at which both men drifted off slightly whilst fractions of the forgotten past came rushing back. Where had those memories been hiding? Sephiroth smiled.
"That was a great camping trip… the sulphur-caves near the volcano lake," face contorting with a playfully smug expression as he snickered, "Aeris and you got it on pretty heavily that night. I saw the shadows of you two inside the tent."
"Well, it wasn't supposed to be a public show, but if you got something out of it, then I'm happy for you." Following a brief moment's respite, Zack couldn't help but to sneak in a cheeky question; "But since you've been watching… how was I?"
"What?"
"C'mon, General."
"Honestly, Zack. I can expect a lot from you, but this is a bit too daft."
C'mon, Sephiroth. Humor me. C'mon… c'mon, humor me."
"Okay, all right, I'm humoring you," Sephiroth sighed with eyes fixed on the indicator above the door. "What do you want to know?"
"Well, was I good enough or what? Like an eight out of ten?"
Silence radiated from the expressionless face of the Seraph.
"Seven out of ten?" Zack continued curiously. "Come-on, I couldn't possibly have been lower than that. All right… I'll go as low as six out of ten… no, six-and-a-half… that's it. Well?"
"Honestly?"
"Of course honestly, Sephiroth. What do you think? If you bother to lie, don't bother to tell. Come on," Zack drew an audable breath whilst loosening up his muscles in a slight bounce as if he was preparing for a fight. "Let me have it."
"Seven out of ten, Zack. Pretty decent wouldn't you say?"
"Pretty decent? What the hell kind of a judgement is that? You weren't paying attention at all that night. I made her screeeeaaaam."
"All right, maybe a seven… seven-and-a-quarter."
"Seven-and-a-quarter?" Zack cocked his head. "Not a seven-and-a-half? Are you kidding me? Can I get a quarter point more, General? A measly quarter pity-point?"
Sephiroth removed his gaze from the shifting numbers and rested his felines on Zack with his familiar and stern commander-look ghosting over him.
"Don't push it, Zack, or I'll strip you of that quarter too."
Zack pouted playfully and when the elevator came to a halt he refused stepping out. Sephiroth turned with a faintly amused expression sighing "Fine, seven-and-a-half. Now come on."
"I'm the man! I knew you'd yield," the brunet inhaled proudly and slapped the seraph on the shoulder. "Does that go on my permanent record too?"
Sephiroth nodded smilingly, but then the smile disappeared as the Zack's following question brought the grey clouds.
"Speaking of old records, what happened? You killed us both, didn't you? I mean Aeris and me."
The General frowned. "Zack, why bring it all up?"
"Why not?" the brunet countered. "It's not like we've talked about this before."
"Is it necessary to start now?"
"You tell me," Zack continued theatrically. "I mean, wouldn't you be interested in knowing why someone wanted to skewer you and once that failed, dragged you to Hell? Correct me if I'm wrong but there's an element of curiosity connected to it… like… 'What the hell were you thinking'?"
Sephiroth took a deep breath and nodded with an extensive exhale, acknowledging the sacrcasm justly directed at him. "Sure, Zack… you're right. Well, I didn't hurt you, but Aeris… yes. I don't know what came over me at that time. Maybe it's as easy as blaming it on the influence of Jenova. I respected Aeris, I was fond of her and," the General veered onto a different path, "before you started seeing her regularly, I shared some nice moments with her."
"I thought as much," Zack muttered in discontent. "I thought I was her first. She told me so herself. When did you sneak in between?"
"Sneak in?" Sephiroth halted and turned to face his friend. "You misunderstand, Zack. Aeris and me, we more or less grew up together through professor Gast. We had fun in our childhood, but there was nothing more than that. She was like a sister to me. Sure, there was a sense of curiosity as with all kids… but nothing passionate once we grew up. Sensuality was not there from either of us and the only feelings we shared was a strong bond of what held us together, which was more akin to what a family might have. Trust me, Zack if either of us would've felt something, then you most likely wouldn't even have had a chance."
"I had my doubts anyway… based on her skills," Zack chuckled, to which Sephiroth commented, "Let that be a lesson for you, my friend. Flowergirls are not as innocent as they look. Besides, you were her first love. And I mean that with a capital 'L'. She played in a different division with you, Zack, but I see you're still in doubt. Why?"
Zack nodded admittedly and then presented his reasons with a tailing question that left Sephiroth numb for a swift moment; "Because she just brutally left me. Broke me, you know. I don't know how to explain it to you, but… have you ever had your heart broken, Seph? Felt betrayed?" It was something no one had ever asked, or dared to ask, or perhaps even bothered to ask Sephiroth, He wondered off in his thoughts. Has he ever had his heart broken? Felt betrayed? Could he ever even count the times? The great General that no one dared to approach; no one adding a slight spark to that famished human part of him that desired the same things as everyone else; no invitations from friends other than occasionally from Zack, no birthday parties, no boy's night out, no caresses from girls in love, no forbidden cigarette smoking behind the school building, no drunken mess to upset the parents with… no joy. And thus, when the desperation to feel something other than pain, something to remind him that he was still alive, overtook him, he would create his own instance of joy with stolen moments between sheets with temporary lovers or just enjoy a stroll at night and soak up the nocturnal madness of people around him.
"But the worst betrayal I faced," Sephiroth went on, "was when I discovered that my whole life had been a lie. People were so false, so vicious and so cold. It was so easy to choose the side of Jenova. I just hated everyone and everything and this hatred just changed my world. It was the most fulfilling emotion I had ever felt. It was so seductive and so rewarding."
"Why didn't you put more faith in me, Sephiroth, and told me all this before it all went pear-shaped? I mean, you can't expect people to let go of the image of a great general. People feared you and, most importantly, they respected you too much to even think about dragging you out to one of our 'unworthy' and crazy nights. Man, you were so much more than us. We wouldn't even have known how to ask you. You know, I often think that if you had taken the privilege of a transgression on the fields… to kill or cover up something bad... I wouldn't even have known how to say 'no' to someone like you."
"Was I that horrible?"
"No… you were that great, a living legend. Who would've thought a legend, something of an abstract concept, could feel and want to be felt?"
"Would it have made you act differently towards me, Zack?"
"Oh man," Zack sighed and shook his head whilst trying to find the words. "I would've died for you back then. You… and Angeal. Fuck it… Angeal."
"Angeal," Sephiroth reacted to the unusual presence announced through a trembling breath.
"Yes, but that's all in the past. No need to dwell on it."
Sephiroth inhaled to latch on to the last statement, but Zack intercepted once more and silenced him with a smile. "Look, I know it was 'our' fault too. We pushed you to that abandoned world and when you fell we blamed you for not being strong enough. And I'm sorry. I really am, Seph. If I could do it again, I'd never let you into that Jenova crypt and I would get you freaking drunk every weekend if I could… but we can't change the past so you need to give us a chance… or help… to catch you if that happens again."
Sephiroth clutched his fists disjointedly. Anger was blooming inside him each time he remembered the betrayal. So long had passed and so much of him was tamed when filtered through hell, but still the anger was alive. However, he did acknowledge Zack's words, and he knew it was a mad twist of circumstances and a fate sealed when he was only a child. There really was no one to blame.
"Look, I'm really sorry for abandoning you," Zack said.
Sephiroth dove Zack's lucid, blue eyes and placed a hand on the back of the man's neck, pulling him closer until their foreheads met. Ever so slowly he let go of the darkness. "You didn't abandon me, Zack," he whispered, head still resting against Zack's. "You followed me there, remember? And in the end… you pulled me out of it."
Zack nodded; "You're welcome, General. Always."
No more was said of the dark past and their first stop was at a hairdresser who had suggested shortening Sephiroth's long mane to half of its original length, and the fringe was refreshed with a few inches less to block his view. As an initial assessment the barber gathered the silvery hair in a ponytail at the base of the neck and included as much as possible of the fringe and sideburns.
"Long hair flowing about is soooo last decade, darlin'," the camp hairdresser explained, rolling his eyes. "You need to get some inspiration, like your friend… something spiky and highlighted."
Sephiroth remained stern at the sight, trying not to smile, and added; "I'm just trying to keep it simple."
"Simple, darlin', simple, but not bushman," the professional gesticulated wildly, his plucked eyebrows bunching up as if he witnessed the surprise of his life. He continued on with heaving chest and a dramatic parade worthy of any Shakespearian act. "Simple, yes! You look like a mongrel… God, I have a dog that has more class than you."
Through the reflection in the mirror, Sephiroth saw Zack almost rolling off his seat with laughter, but tried not to offend the barber by giving into that choking mirth pressing in his throat. He had to maintain some dignity.
"Besides," the professional went on focusing on his job, "the trend this year is to make men look like men. Long hair is so camp these days."
Sephiroth swallowed his words instead of speaking them, but even with a shaved head, that barber was more feminine than a girl in pink. In fact, he was as camp as a row of tents. Thus, the angel flexed his muscles a bit and straightened his back throwing in that no matter the hair, he was as masculine as a man could get. The hairdresser pursed his lips and without restraint or a sense of audacity, he examined the quality of the biceps snorting; "I've seen better," leaving Sephiroth with a stunned expression.
"Well," the General snorted, "with the risk of being a cliché, it's not the size that counts."
"Ha!" the barber scoffed, "You can't churn butter with a toothpick, darlin'. Size matters… at least to some extent and those who say it doesn't are lying. I bet you're the type to over-compensate, no? There's something extra big or large in your possession?"
As a superior General, Sephiroth was capable of many things, but he never bothered to refine his skills in lying simply because he never had a reason to. However, with his thoughts on Masamune and the overly extended length of the blade, it would've been better to give a swift negation to the barber's belittling comment. As nothing came to mind, he chose to keep quiet, which was just as bad as admitting.
"I thought so, big boy," the barber smirked, "See, I have a sense for these things. Tall guy, good looking, has all the ladies, no doubt… of course, there has to be a chink somewhere. Do you at least have hair on your chest or is it as smooth as a babies butt?"
Sephiroth glanced down at his chest, trying to convince the barber that there was indeed hair hiding behind the fabric of his shirt, although not extensively much, at which the other mocked him saying; "I bet I have more on the soles of my feet." At this point Sephiroth realized this barber was a tough nut to crack and gave into the will of the mad professional. The angel watched a good few feet-length of his hair fall to the floor and tried not to think about how odd it felt not having all that weight on his head anymore. The hair barely reached to the scapula, but it felt good to do something out of the ordinary. Without the silencing of the scissors, the fringe was shortened to frame his face and adjusted to be even on both sides. When finished, the hairdresser transfixed Sephiroth with hands on heavily tilted hips and serious afterthought masking his complexion, then spoke as he tapped the comb against the fontanel of the platinum man; "Tell you what, Toots, we'll start off like this so you can get used to it and in a few weeks you can come back and we'll try something new. How about it?" Sephiroth shrugged and explained he really had nothing to add to that. "Good," the man said, then added; "I'll just arrange those eyebrows a little." Before Sephiroth had the chance to comprehend or intervene, his seat was rolled back and a set of deft hands attacked his eyebrows with pincers and a miniature comb, shaping, plucking and adjusting the silvery hair. As much as he found himself in a very alien situation, Sephiroth could not deny the fact that there was something pleasant, apart from comical by judging Zack's behavior, in being pampered in this way. However, everything had a limit, and at the suggestion to 'add a little color to the pale brows', Sephiroth had reached his.
"I really don't think I can take much more," he whimpered, smothered by his laughter. "Today at least."
"It'll only take ten minutes. Look, it's perfectly fine for men to groom these days," the barber argued to which Sephiroth folded his fingers in a praying gesture, asking to be released from the clutches of what he silently deemed to be an alternative hell.
"Please, no more today."
"All right, all right," the hairdresser waved it off and as usual, accentuated his displeasure by rolling with his eyes. "God, you're such a wimp, Toots."
Zack was crying with laughter. So there was a way to torture even the mighty General. Once outside the barbershop, the angel took a deep breath. Never in his time as a Soldier, had he ever felt so powerless to interfere with his own fate. From being shampooed over half an hour… twice… and then having to endure the cutting, the comments, the plucking of eyebrows, he was slowly but surely reduced to a docile puppet called Toots in the hands of a mad professional.
"But you left him quite a tip," Zack couldn't help but to point out; "Toots."
"Shut up," came the immediate response, followed by a harangue of defense of how little Sephiroth could do to interfere.
"But you enjoyed every second of it," Zack laughed and patted his friend on the back as they continued towards their previous goal. Strolling along the sunlit streets, they settled for a restaurant that offered Al Fresco dining. They sat down under a large umbrella to catch some shade from the burning sun whilst placing an order of, scrambled eggs with toast, pancakes, cold cuts, freshly baked buns and croissants, fruits, vegetables and a few cold beers to wash it all down. During the brunch not much was said as they were both hungry, but once the first portions of eggs, cold cuts and buns were consumed their conversation came alive.
"Are you and Vincent talking a lot about what happened on the other side?" Zack asked and took a sip of his coffee to accompany the sandwich he was enjoying.
Sephiroth shook his head; "We don't even talk. Just argue or fight or IF we by any chance manage to talk, we talk about something else, something trivial."
As Zack silenced without further inquiries or responses, Sephiroth lifted his gaze from the plate of food and asked; "And do you with Angeal?"
The brunet hitched with a stare, and the surprise in his face was caught by Sephiroth who then pressed on; "You're really bothered about not being able to talk to him. I thought you talked about everything."
Zack nodded and sighed; "I thought so too, but apparently I was wrong. Once perhaps… a long time ago."
"How come?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, how come things have turned so silent?" Sephiroth went on. "You two, as I understand it, were very close."
"And so were you," Zack pointed out. "You, Angeal and Genesis were the best of friends. I didn't come into picture until later on. I figured maybe you could tell me more."
"What can I say, Zack?" the angel asked rhetorically and drifted away with his gaze, watching people passing by and enjoying the sun. Zack's dejectedness spread through his aura and covered him all over. "I figured," he began, "that perhaps you could shed some light on what I've missed. Help me. Ever since we've returned, things are so strange. I have problems recognizing people, personalities, places… Don't you think?"
"Zack," Sephiroth pulled a corner of his mouth into a limp smile. "Being back from the Lifestream in itself is strange. How many people have managed that? Things are different, people are different, situations are different… I have nothing to add."
"Okay," the brunet backed off.
"Why are you so bothered with Angeal?"
"Because… Nah, forget it," Zack halted by shaking his head, and pulled back the words longing to be spoken. However, it didn't tale long before the words seeped through his lips and flowed on anew. "Look, you've always been the one feeling like an outcast and different, right? You've been telling me that since our return. How every thought emerges like a flash from oblivion and just anchors into the present as if you had just thought them today. I don't understand why you've been so bothered about being different? Listen Seph," Zack took a big bite out of his sesame roll with cream cheese, "take a look at the people around you. Billions of people and everyone is the same. You should take pride in being different, don't you think? I mean, I don't get you… or Angeal. What people aspire to be or achieve are the very things that you guys tried to deny. There is a duality in your nature, but accept it."
"If only it were that simple, Zack."
"And it is. You and I aren't as different as you'd like to make out. Apart from being enhanced with Mako, there are some things that split us in two, that's for sure, but you've got more inside than you are willing to show. And he did too. I don't understand why you hold back, Seph. You've been a snot-nosed, booger-eating, little toddler too, but you've never really left your anal stage."
Sephiroth widened his feline eyes like a stunned cat; "I beg your pardon?"
"Sure," Zack chewed on, "See, this is what I mean. 'I beg your pardon', it's called 'what the fuck' or 'what the hell'. I agree, your dry pardoning does sound quite posh and funny at times, but it's a refined version of what you dislike. I see you're looking at Vincent at times with such disdain that I can't tell if it's the human you hate or the daimon inside. Regardless, you have over-refined your human persona to the point where it's almost like you try to distance yourself from the heritage you bear and the similairities you have with such freaks like Vincent and Chaos. Yet you don't like your human side either, and still you try to be this unattainable, or unachievably perfect human… instead of just Sephiroth. That's what I mean by your anal stage."
"Still makes no sense, Zack."
"In simple terms, you've refined your human heritage to inhuman proportions with exceptional language skills, appearance etcetera, making you more akin to a supernatural being… the monster that you and Angeal hated. You're anally retentive! The major difference between you and me are not the genes you were concoted from, but your inability to deal with problems. See, my ass is exit only, so when I get overloeaded by what's around me, I tend to let it out. You are retentive to the point where you are ready to burst and yet you insist on keeping everything shut inside… and everyone shut outside. You've become overly obsessed with perfecting a part of yourself you dislike because the other side scares you and you hide from Vincent instead of facing him. So how can anyone build anything with you, even friendship, when you refuse to identify or empathize to the point of even having an open discussion."
Sephiroth sensed what was troubling Zack. It was those deep and confusing feelings for Angeal, but the General could not take the chance of being wrong by suggesting something outrageous, because it would only reveal the personal matter of his own problems. They remained silent for a while more, but Zack took courage and brought about a question that made the food swell in Sephiroth's mouth.
"Why Vincent, Sephiroth? Why was he the one?"
Their eyes merged solid as if the air around them had turned to ice, trapping them inside like insects in amber. Sephiroth gave off a hardly noticeable shiver and was clearly caught off guard. "What do you mean?" he managed to stutter, but Zack was fast in his approach and did not give his friend any time to come up with a suitable getaway.
"Why was he the one to break that curse?"
Sephiroth shook his head persistently and for a flicker of a second, Zack almost doubted that the angel knew anything about that little incident at the shores when Vincent stole a kiss from him once they entered the world of the living.
"He was quite affectionate towards you when he pulled you out," Zack pushed on. "Look, don't take me for a fool. I may not remember anything from the darkness… but I went there WITH you… TO you. You said that yourself."
"What's your point?" Sephiroth muttered between clenched teeth as his anger grew. It was unintentional, but the genes could not be denied and the darkness covering his soul still lingered on. Zack may not remember the nightmares, the humiliation, the dread and the concubine within the angel, but Sephiroth did. He remembered it all, although he most of all wanted to forget it ever happened. Just like a bad dream and nothing more.
Zack cocked his head with a smile of disbelief, repeating; "What's my point?! Why did he pull you out? Us. Why him? What's your connection to him?"
Sephiroth waited patiently, but the anger began changing him. He could feel it. He only hoped that Zack would not notice the glowering eyes burning as the eerie glow in them started returning, the skin coming alive to the powers surrounding him, absorbing the energy he stole from everything coming too close; a nibble of an aura, which made someone cough, the flower on the table losing the petals and the coffee turning solid as the heat from the liquid seeped into his palms. With dread the angel realized that he was the same… the same as before. He tried to focus on Zack to regain control over his feelings and lowered his gaze not to reveal the glimmering eyes.
"… my point is that we used to be friends, Sephiroth. You used to trust me. C'mon on, tell me. Why was Vincent able to come through?" When no response came from his attempt to smooth things over, Zack added a stingy tail of a comment and left his seat; "But I guess that has changed too." He threw his credit card on the table and disappeared among the crowd. Sephiroth remained seated for a long time; left to his own thoughts. He began to understand the feelings Zack had for Angeal. It was the very same that he tried to deny Vincent. And it was hard. It was a difficult situation and tore him apart from the inside. The anguish, and constant worry of saying or doing something, which was out of line or in some way misunderstood. Not wanting him close, but not wanting to push him away either. It was complex, paradoxical and utterly frustrating. Their paths led astray and Zack was wandering the streets for hours, but when he returned to the car he found Sephiroth waiting for him. The angel was sitting on the dirty ground, hair hanging like a lifeless veil over his face, his head so deep between his shoulders that his chin nearly touched the chest.
"Zack," Sephiroth spoke quietly. "There are some things that are too hard to balance. I'm not much for opening up because I don't even know how to begin talking about it. Some of the things you've said are right. There are two strong sides of me… both of which I hate. I just haven't decided yet which part I hate the most. Regarding the other question… I don't know my connection to Vincent. I sometimes hear a voice… a woman… see strange things… a prison of crystals and someone calling for me. It frustrates the hell out of me, to be honest. I try to find answers thinking back to the past but all I see fills me with disgust and hatred. My life… I hate everything and every thought is just pulled into that vortex. I have no patience with people."
Washed over by pity, the brunet joined his friend. "There's nothing to hate, Sephiroth, let alone yourself. Just let those who are not as complete as you, not as complex, have the joy of getting a little of it. Not everybody should have to bring a thesaurus along to have ten-minute conversation with you in order to follow your train of thought. And acknowledge them even if they sound stupid. People have problems… maybe trivial compared to yours, but they deserve an ear and not the mockery of rejection for being petty. Not everyone carries the world on their shoulders, like a general at the age of eighteen, right? But then again, you never had to worry about work, money, not being good enough at what you do, being replaced or rejected…"
"You mean I'm not listening?"
"You're a little bit too self-aborbed. This is a second chance… why not do things differently?"
Sephiroth raised his head and blinked up at Zack; "You are very loyal to Vincent, Zack. I've always admired this loyalty of yours. It's so pure."
"This has nothing to do with him, Sephiroth."
"Sure it does. You acknowledge him and you see me as the obstacle that hides the truth. You think that by digging up the truth behind Vincent, you might find answers to your own problems and questions about Aeris and Angeal."
"He pulled us out of that Hell, both you and me. If it hadn't been for him… I don't know, my friend, but I think we owe him more than what we've given."
"Do I come across to you as an ungrateful bastard, Zack?"
"No."
"Contemptible… at least."
"Wrong again," Zack smiled and pulled the General up from the ground. "I'm sorry, Sephiroth, but there is no room for just you."
"Don't apologize," the angel exhaled, whilst dusting off his clothes, genuinely regretful for the previous episode and admitted that he carried the lion's share of the blame. Once they got seated in the car, Sephiroth began talking. "You know, Zack, unlike you, I remember everything from the other side. There isn't one night that passes me by without me reliving every degrading scene over and over." Sephiroth spoke with his hands resting in his lap and head downcast like a shameful child. Through his words the car transformed into a spacecraft travelling through dimensions and brought about scenes from another world that Zack felt highly uncomfortable with, yet needed to hear to find some clues to his own questions. He had forgotten what it was he had suffered through, but as the angel explained, the brunet felt appalled yet in ways honored to be the one at Sephiroth's side to endure such horror. And they managed – together. Between sections of horror, detailed moments with explicit undertones were revealed, but never with any detail. Sephiroth knew this was a part of him that he was the least proud of, but in order for Zack to understand the extent of the changes that had occurred and shaped the new life the truth had to be brought forth.
"I still recall every time he came to me," Sephiroth set forth. "I close my eyes and every night and I'm battling the thought of calling for Chaos. I can hear him in my head, calling for me to acknowledge him. And by Gaea, I want to so badly I'm almost burning up… it's so intense… it's like…" Sephirot held his breath, face contorting with frustration, hands reaching forth to grab something out of the air, the words building up a temendous pressure that Zack could feel through his entire being. But then, it was all released in the anti-climax of a deep sigh.
"So why don't you?" the brunet asked, hoping to find answers to his questions in the Seraph's responses, but Sephiroth just shook his head; "Because of what might happen if I do."
The answer was bittersweet. Yes, Sephiroth would have to admit that he had fallen completely. By denying Chaos, the seraph could convince himself that his union with the Daimon was merely the result of a twisted world, a distorted universe bringing about impossible feelings and events. He could not accept the reality he was in now.
"Sephiroth, I never took you for a… a… you know… barber."
Sephiroth let go of a chuckle; "For crying out loud, Zack. That's so cliché. It was a mere chance he was gay."
"No seriously," Zack persisted. "All those times… well, very few… we were talking about life… I mean… you were so observant of women. I didn't know that you were attracted to both. You know…"
"An omnivore?" the seraph asked rhetorically. "Well, there are things you don't know about me. I worship women, but it didn't stop me from drifting over to the other side."
Zack leaned deeper into his seat and from his position he posed a question accompanied by a mischievous smile. "I never thought guys would be your type."
"I don't crave a particular type of anyone, Zack. It's just a given impulse… a situation… whatever clicks at that moment. It was never really planned, but I could sense them, or at least their desire. And at times I guess, it wasn't so much that it was me as Sephiroth as a person that they wanted… just someone to fill that sudden need."
"How do you know? What if you were wrong, made a mistake?"
"I could hear their thoughts."
Zack frowned and expressed his dislike of the concept entailing a ruthless invasion of privacy through mind-reading, but was corrected by a composed and dignified Sephiroth.
"It's not what you think, Zack. It's not me invading their thoughts. It's the other way around, actually. When people's desires or something witin them becomes comsuming or fervent, their thoughts come inviading MY head. It's sometimes so strong that it happens effortlessly. Their inner voices pierce my head, speak to me… it is I who cannot shut them out."
"Cannot or will not?" Zack chuckled and glanced impishly at his friend.
Sephiroth responded with a smile of guilt; "Touché, my friend. I agree. My curiosity doesn't fortify a resistance from my part. When a young cadet or Soldier comes in to my office, and I can hear his heart racing like the feet of thumping elephants, I do assume he wants something important. Sometimes I just listen to the heart, feel how they become increasingly agitated the closer I get… and sometimes I can see the images of their desires. And sometimes I just wanted to be a part of it, Zack. Even for a swift while."
"Fair enough. I'm just surprised that people didn't talk. I mean, sure there have been rumors, but those things were only what people claimed to have 'observed', meaning no first-hand information."
"Well, their transgressions were as forbidden as mine. Besides as forbearance has always been believed to be my creed, it was easy to deny those 'observations' as mere fabrications."
"So, tell me," Zack could not withhold his thoughts from dashing from his lips, "Have you ever thought about me?"
"Yes."
The younger brunet was awaiting something more, but as nothing more came, he continued on.
"Yes? That's it? You won't even elaborate?"
Sephiroth sighed; "You had your heart set on another, and as I was a good friend with Angeal… I couldn't make that step. Besides, I may have thought about you, but you haven't really reciprocated that impulse."
Zack went absolutely mute at hearing Angeal's name as it suddenly dawned on him that his secret admiration has not been secret at all. At least not to some, and thus, if Sephiroth had the power to sense these things, then what about Aeris? She, as a Cetra, must have surely possessed osme of these fantastic abilities. Could she have noticed this too? But then, why did she never confront him? Zack had to clear his mind of these worrying thoughts and stated more light-heartedly; "You've really been around, huh?"
Sephiroth responded with a slight smile, raking his fringe back and exposing a faintly amused expression. "In hindsight, not really. Not even close to your adventures. Life on the battlefields can be… forlorn. When coming back, you went out with the friends, had time off, whereas I had paper work, more administrative and political conflicts to solve, more business, more… more of everything that never let me be. Sometimes I just wanted to feel that there was more surrounding me than just death, paperwork and emptiness. And sometimes it was just to release pressure."
"I understand," Zack seemingly drifted off as his attention turned to maneuvering the car through a rounbabout, but then proceeded with questions lined and ready to fire. "Was it out on the fields or back at base?"
"Base."
"Did they come to you or did you seek them out?"
"Both, in a way. Often it started with an innocent and unexpected encounter that drifted into something illicit or private. Zack, I wasn't going around panting down people's neck like a dog."
"Liked it?"
"Sometimes."
"Protection?"
"Always."
"Submissive or dominant?"
"Me?" Sephiroth asked and Zack nodded. "Dominant." The swiftly stated matter of fact came with a flash of tailing silence encased with the impression that there was more to be said. Zack could not help but to persue that string of unfinished thought.
"Really? So never been submissive, eh?"
"I didn't say that," the seraph latched on without even a second of delay. "Not with subordinates or occasional lovers."
"But?" Zack's inquisitive nature was incessantly knocking on the door to Sephiroth's secretive mind. "C'mon, General, it's just you and me. You've already revealed more than you've ever done in the past life to anyone and a few more sentences will not add to saving your dignity."
Sephiroth smiled. True enough. In the presence of Zack, dignity was as abstract as the concept of total collectivism or free enterprise; nice in theory, but a total failure in reality. And since they were trying the new phase of the "anal-stage" that Zack referred to earlier, why not give in to the conversation and see where it would carry them, although that descrption was a bit too fitting of a description for this topic.
"All right, Zack, so there are two people whom I have exposed my throat to willingly… and enjoyed it every time."
"And those are?"
"Vincent and… and a special person from my past."
"Fair enough, but why men?"
"Beause I'm not interested in being tied to someone. Young recruits and Soldiers didn't really expect much in return apart from swift satisfaction, which was sufficient for me as well. So once the rules of the game were set, they always kept to it. Women, on the other hand, unless they were older and wise enough to have tuned out on over-romanticising the concept of emotional attachment, craved for more than what I was and am prepared to give."
"Aaaahh," Zack released what resembled a moment of eureka dawning upon him. "So you like cougars?"
"Well, I am not obsessed with age, but if you wish to call it that, yes," the General answered frankly. "They are hungry and they know how to feed." Sephiroth started chuckling whilst memories from a distant past flooded him. "I remember an occasion when I was attending a conference in S'zikla on behalf of the ShinRa Corporation. It was dull beyond belief, so I snuck out after fulfilling my social duties and ended up strolling along the streets. It was late evening and I went into a café …"
The story unfolded with Sephiroth's quest for solitude thrown off track as fate intervened. The lady sat across the room, noticing the beautiful young man returning her gaze in consistent glances cast her way. She was a single mother in her early forties, probably with young teenagers, and that night was her turn to have some time off. She had a luscious figure with ample breasts pressing against the turqiose coloured, v-neck top that accentuated her cleavage. Her ginger, tousled hair curled over her shoulders and framed a charming, freckled face inviting him over with a daring wink. The conversation had been very brief and it was apparent she could easily have been old enough to be Sephiroth's own mother, but the notion of her maturity shot a surge of heat to his loins and without a second thought he had invited himself over to her place for an adventurous night. Sephiroth boldly divulged the details of the sensations of her fleshy bottom filling his palms when peeling the clothes off her body. It had been pure pleasure on his part and he had indulged in every second of it.
"She lay down on her back, legs spread wide and as I dove in to satisfy her, all she said to me was 'bon appetite, baby'," Sephiroth kept on laughing, embracing the pleasant memories that had unexpecdedly arrived with clarity. "She was a hot lady, Zack. You would've liked her, I'm sure."
"Sephiroth, I like most women."
"I do too, Zack, it's not that. Look, you're wrong if you think there was a particular preference towards men… it didn't start off with them and they are not the center of my desires. But the choices were easier with them and with independent women. But Vincent is not like the cadets and Soldiers. The situation is quite similar to yours, no? With Angeal?"
Zack was struck by the discomfiture this discussion had brought about and felt the need to apologize to veer from where it was heading, but Sephiroth intervened and continued on as if some compulsory force urged him divulge his inner thoughts. But if truth be told, it was a mere chance he took to ease the burden that had been plaguing his mind since his return.
"Sephiroth, how is Vincent different then?" the brunet showed genuine interest. "Care to tell me?"
"There's something that nestled into my mind… something we share and something that holds me close to him… tied to him, if you will. It's unrelenting, which is why I have to keep him at a distance," the seraph explained, face drifting into an almost daydream-like state, but then turned his attention to Zack. "I know that it's the very same emotions that confuse you with him. How can Aeris deny you your right to be with her, the woman you loved, and force you into the arms of the man you idolized and had to kill? Not because of war, but because of his own selfishness. He couldn't bear the thought of being a monster like me. He wanted to die. Call it assisted suicide, because he was too cowardly to do it on his own. And still, he is the one you dream about at nights. Now tell me, Zack, that I am wrong?"
"No," the young man sighed dejectedly and watched his abashed expression in the side mirror. Upon facing the General Zack admitted that he too was burdened by unresolved and frustating emotions that weaved a mesh of friendship and lust alike, in the most confusing way.
"It's of no consequence now, Zack," Sephiroth spoke softly. "You can't find answers in me, because frankly, I have none."
"You were always the one to ask, Sephiroth, always the one to know all the answers."
"But not now, my friend. I think… I may need some help too."
They left the subject at that and it wasn't until they had reached the outskirts of the busy suburb that Zack brought the discussion alive once again, but from a different perspective.
"Tell me Sephiroth, have you ever been crazy about a woman?"
The General smiled and lowered the volume of the music raising his voice with sincere glee; "I generally love the teaste of women, but oh yes. Yes, I have. "
The answer caught Zack's curiosity, for although Sephiroth never spoke bluntly of his adventures, he apparently had a tremendous appetite. Zack had to know more.
"What was she like?"
"She IS strong and eleven years older… my very special friend from the past," the General laughed whilst adding, "She took my virginity… stole my first kiss, my days, my nights… my thoughts… my soul. She was amazing and I was a damned fool to cut her away. I still think of her. I wonder if she'd remember me if I knocked on her door today? So many years have passed."
The crudeness slipped off Zack in an expression of awe. "Bloody hell, Sephiroth! I can't belive it. Does she live in Midgar or farther out?"
With a satisfied snicker, Sephiroth said; "Yes, Midgar, but she has retired to her beach house for a few weeks. Just called in to her office and I was directed to the secretary. It was a while back, though, so she might have returned… just not checked into the office if she is working from home."
"Why don't you visit her?" Zack could hardly keep the car on the road with excitement and threw himself enthusiastically into the conversation. If that woman had been Aeris, and he would have been in Sephiroth's shoes, he wouldn't have wasted a single second away from that girl. The answer of the Seraph, however, came like a cold shower.
"I'm nervous."
"About meeting her? Wow," Zack couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I have got to meet this woman. She must be something else if she manages to make the great General himself nervous."
"She and I share a past before those times of war, Zack. But…" the seraph halted and his features turned slightly sad as he divulged, "… I've treated her so unkindly, just like that befitting of a general, a Soldier. I've tried to live without too many regrets, but this was one of those things that left a thorn in me. It is more guilt than regret."
"Time to make amends," Zack commanded firmly and stopped the car. "Give me the directions and I'll take you to her."
"No," the angel opposed kindly, but with a firm tone. "Not today."
"Why not? You have a new look, new haircut…that you've messed up. We could go back to the barbershop to have it fixed again. Eyebrows still okay?"
In a playful gesture, Sephiroth licked his fingers and attended his eyebrows to even them out, then gathered his hair in a ponytail and asked for Zack's opinion.
"When should we have our wedding, Toots?" came the bouncy response as Zack started the car anew, but the platinum man took the lighter atmosphere as an opportunity to carry his message through to his friend. They had diverted from their original discussion, but Sephiroth saw the chance to close their thoughts on the matter for now.
"Zack, you know Angeal always preached about his ideals such as 'Be true to yourself'. Well, be that when you are with him…that's all I can say." The seraph steered the discussion into their main path, closely watching the features of the brunet as they changed into anguish. He knew, however, that the best approach was sometimes to be brutally direct. If he could not live by that rule, at least he could try to talk some sense into the head of Zack. There was no need for them both to fail. "Don't tiptoe around to avoid stepping on his feet… maybe that's exactly what he needs. He's honorable I agree, but by no means is he even close to a saint. Take it from me, I know. Thump on him and cause some commotion. You and Cloud were very good at that… 'backwater experts'."
"Oh yeah," Zack lit up with a smile at the thought of his friend. "Cloud. Hey Sephiroth, do you think others have come back too?" The car turned at a cross section and continued on towards their small village. The clock tower near the town market was visible from afar and they knew they were almost home.
"Yes. I know they have," Sephiroth answered at which enthusiasm shot through the gregarious younger man next to him. Zack was well into his thirties yet he acted like a teenager still. "When do we get to meet them then? Oh man, I have so much to catch up on with Cloud. I'm so curious of what's become of him."
"When Nanaki gets the Go ahead from your broad," the General shot in with his well-rehearsed commanding voice.
"Areis?"
"That's the one."
"How will we know? I mean, are you in some connection with her or…"
"Nanaki will tell us. Don't worry so much, Zack. Just enjoy your time."
The car came to a halt in front of the modest tavern where Sephiroth stayed. The angel got out, but Zack declined the offer of a drink as he planned to watch a sports game on TV at his own hotel. He had decided to surround himself with more modern amenities and thus, didn't mind applying for work and making a living.
"All right, Zack, just remember what I said about Angeal…"
Zack nodded; "To step on his toes."
"That's right. Don't let a second chance slip from your hands… don't be a fool like some of us others. You've always loved that man, Zack," Sephiroth bluntly said to Zack's face and had already distanced himself a few steps before the brunet even had the chance to react on what was said. The two men parted for the day and only time would prove if words spoken would alter old ways of thinking.
On his way up to the room, Sephiroth flicked through the contact list on his cell phone and stopped at a familiar name. Most of the contacts had been courtesy of Vincent as he was in a way the spider in the web of all the occurrences, but he trusted Sephiroth would not abuse the privileges he received. The third signal was followed by a response.
"Angeal, just listen and I'll be brief. Stop wallowing and give Zack some credit. He's been trying really hard and he deserves better. You of all people should know it."
With that Sephiroth hung up and switched off his phone. He wanted to remain unreachable for the remainder of the day to enjoy it in solitude.