Chapter 28 - Nothing There

October, 1985

"You got this kid," Orlin says and rests his hand on Sephiroth's shoulder. He nods and rolls the fire materia between his fingers. It is already starting to wake up in the back of his mind, warm and fuzzy. The air is ashy and he has to swallow down a cough. He focuses anyways on the air in the middle of the room.

They've been training with materia for so long now that the months have slipped into almost a year. At first Sephiroth was a little worried before their first session. What if Orlin teaches like Dinand? It's not true. Instead, he relishes being under Orlin's tutelage. They work in a special room and carve the elements out of thin air until Sephiroth is dizzy with exhaustion. The Saturday training drives him through the rest of his life relentlessly.

The teasing is still bad at school but it is smaller to him. One more thing to endure along with the bruises that spot his arms and stomach from Dinand. At least Sephiroth has gotten better at avoiding hits when he slips up and loses control. Regardless, he is learning from both of them. Orlin teaches in a completely different way than his SOLDIER trainer. It is disorganized and sometimes Sephiroth has to guess what to do next.

Today is not the case. The materia purrs in the back of his mind and warms in his palm. The air sparkles in front of him. Embers appear out of blackness and float idly down. Then a small ball of fire appears there only because of his will. Sephiroth's neck is covered with sweat as he zips the fire across the room in a direct line. It hits the wall in an explosion. The hissing of the panels makes him smile as they dissipate into heat.

Orlin taps his shoulder. "Good but we knew you could do that. Now try to get it through the ring."

Sephiroth holds his breath and calls the fire again. It hovers before him. He can feel how warm it is. Part of him is still in wonder at all of this. This time, he tries to send the fire through the black ring hanging from the ceiling. It misses, only warming one side before Sephiroth lets it go and it fizzles out over a dummy.

"You got the guy but not the goal. Three out of ten. Think about setting the path in your mind first and then," he pauses and the materia set in the sword on his back flashes. "Go for it."

Orlin's fire is a thin arrow that shoots across the room and through the hoop. It darts like a fish and bites into the dummy's neck. The padding quivers with the impact. Sephiroth shakes his head. He makes it look so easy. This is how it goes. It's done without a real thought from Orlin and it takes him a whole week of practice to get it right. Sephiroth tries to be patient.

At least here he makes definitive progress. He's thankful for that.

He can sustain a spell. Fire is his favorite. Something about the power and hunger of fire lights something inside of him. It destroys blindly. Fire renders anything into ash without thought. He is strong if he can control something like that. He is the one that can burn everything down to the ground now. He can render them into ashes. He can make them into nothing. No one can force him to do anything when he's wielding fire against his enemies, real or imaginary.

It makes him feel like he is one step closer to being a SOLDIER.

Sometimes if he is too tired, they sit on the floor across from each other and Orlin explains things with bad jokes and hand gestures. Sometimes they are relevant like how Shinra works or they will talk through fighting scenarios. Other times it is about a sports game or who Orlin saw at the bar.

"Try it again, nice and slow." Orlin steps back and claps his hands together. "My phone keeps calling my name. Do you think that they want to promote me?"

"Probably not," Sephiroth dares to say and he gets a snort as a response.

"Not if Mariella has anything to say about it."

Sephiroth laughs, breaking his lungs from disuse, and summons a spark of fire again. Orlin disappears behind him. Sephiroth pauses. It's like an animal as it seethes in a circle, trying to find a way out. The table creaks behind him. The fire writhes in the air. Small portions drip off and extinguish on the floor. The materia feeds off him in a thin tight line. The energy disappears from him but he's feeling good today. He'll get this right and Orlin will be proud. Careful not to take his eyes off the fireball, he lines up the path through the hoop.

It seems so easy.

The room is dim. Everything thrown into shadows as Sephiroth sways the bubbling fire to the left. It wants to go to the right but he forces it in line with the ring. His fingers shake. The back of his shirt is sticky and the ends of his hair are plastered to his neck. This time, he thinks, this time he will be able to do it. One straight line. It is all it takes.

The fire goes out.

It doesn't sputter. It doesn't flare. It winks out as if it wasn't ever there to begin with.

He frowns. He did something wrong. Then the foreignness slides off him. It dampened his connection to the materia in his hand. There is only one way that could happen. He opens his mouth to ask why and Orlin cuts him off.

"We're throwing in the towel."

Something so distinctively wrong with Orlin's voice makes Sephiroth tense. Orlin speaks with an easy confidence. This man's voice is dry and gruff as if he is taking from the deepest part of his throat. Without Orlin's inflection or the way that his words click against each other, he might not have even thought that it was him.

Sephiroth turns to see Orlin's face white in the dimness.

"We're done," Orlin says but this time it sounds like he is saying it for himself. His free hand that isn't holding his phone clutches against the table.

"What's happened?" Sephiroth asks but doesn't want to know. He wants to turn back time to three minutes ago where everything was right. Had he known what is going to happen next, he could have left. Orlin's arms tense. The edge of the table bends.

"I gotta go kid," he says and stands there staring at him emptily.

He has to go.

Sephiroth swallows. "You've been called for active duty?"

"No."

That was good. Sephiroth doesn't know what he would do without Orlin. The SOLDIER remains. The phone screen dims and lights up as another buzz comes through. His eyes don't leave Sephiroth. He looks so lost in a room that they have spent so many hours in. Orlin doesn't look like himself when he isn't smiling.

Sephiroth takes a step forward. The air is always smoky but now the taste is on his tongue. Swallowing does nothing. Orlin is lifeless except for his moving chest. His eyes fall to the floor and stay there. Maybe Sephiroth is supposed to leave? Did he mean that he should leave?

The emotions start breaking across Orlin's face simple and readable. Shock and grief intermingle. The phone lights up again. Orlin closes his eyes and his chin dips down.

"I guess I'll go," Sephiroth whispers.

His bag is by the door. He feels strange as he starts to edge towards it. He's awkward like every place he puts his feet is slippery with ice. Orlin watches him almost clinging to his movements. It's the only response he gets. Something is really wrong. He needs to find out what. Maybe he could help or fight even though he is still too young to enlist. Maybe he is needed. Mariella could need him. If Wutai has attacked, she might want him by her side.

"He's dead." The delay takes so long that Sephiroth puzzles over them. It hits him. Someone has died. Sephiroth slows his walk. People pass all the time but maybe this one is someone he knows. Maybe it is someone important.

"Who died?"

Orlin's mouth opens and closes emptily and then he shakes his head. His nose turns red and he rubs his face hard. Splotches form. The phone continues to buzz and click until he puts it down. It dances on the countertop.

Sephiroth comes closer. "Who died? President Shinra?"

A cough. Pressure builds in Orlin. His whole body rises. Muscles flex in his arms. A hand runs over his face again. Sephiroth squirms and looks around. He's pressing Orlin. He shouldn't do that. He's his friend. He shouldn't ask. He can find out from someone else. It is better to find out from someone else. He needs to be alone.

"Never mind, I-"

Orlin cuts over him. "Professor Gast is dead."

Now Sephiroth stills. That name. He frowns. It means something to him. It should mean something to him. All he gets is empty space and shadows. He's never met a Professor Gast.

"Did I know him…?" It comes out before he can stop it. He asks out of habit. Orlin has helped patch up his memory at times.

"Get out." It isn't a phrase. It's a growl.

Sephiroth shivers. The sweat on his back is cold.

"I'm sorr-"

"Just get out. Please kid. I can't. I just can't. I can't right now." Orlin presses his fingers into his eyes.

"I'll just g-"

Orlin interrupts him, soft and slow, "How can you say that?"

"What?"

"How can you ask 'did I know him ' like it's nothing?" There is an edge to the question. Dinand gets it. A question that rises a tone too high. A question that feels like a threat. Sephiroth's breath seizes up inside him.

"I can't remember. There is nothing there." Sephiroth freezes and hopes the answer is good enough.

The SOLDIER feels like a tidal wave as he pushes off the table and walks towards him. His face is tight. Orlin isn't going to hit him. Orlin would never hit him. Fear encompasses the air. Sephiroth's knees bend automatically and he lowers himself an inch, ready to move one way or another.

He stops a couple of feet away. His fingers are in fists but he doesn't break the final barrier of space between them.

Sephiroth shrivels further. "Is he from before? I can't remember it. They took everything. I don't know. I'm so sorry."

"How could you? Of everything you lost, how could you lose him too?" Orlin struggles, his voice catching with the next question, "Don't you know how much you meant to him?"

"I don't under-" Sephiroth's head is swimming. Again and again, he dives hard into his memories trying to find a Professor Gast. It's all useless dark shapes, no different than before. His stomach twists inside him. Sephiroth looks at his shoes and tries to fight the nausea of emotions coming over him.

"You're disrespecting him. After all he did for you," Orlin's words hit like punches. He's never raised his voice and now it is rising, terrifying and strong. "How can you be this irresponsible? Why didn't you go after him?"

Sephiroth takes a step back and chokes on a sob. He can't look up. He doesn't understand. He's responsible for something that he can't remember. It's not his fault but it is his fault. The edges of his eyes sting. The room spins.

Pieces of memories fly into his mind digging gashes in him. He's happy. He feels like he is dying. A sweater smells like coffee. He's sitting on the bed in anxiety. Someone draws him into a hug. He's unconscious on a couch. He's in a garden writing. There is blood falling down a wall.

He almost throws up.

"I can't remember. Please. Can you remind me? I can put the pieces together? I can know?"

" Fuck. Why did this have to happen? Why did any of this shit have to happen?" Orlin points at him. "This man got killed because of you . He got fired over you. He did it all because…"

Orlin's eyes change. The anger breaks into grief. He must see who he is yelling at. Sephiroth tries to catch his breath and it doesn't work. He's still dizzy. Orlin steps away, wrapping a hand across his stomach.

Orlin finished more to himself. "Because he loved you."

"I don't-"

The emotions turn into tears. His voice shakes as he steps away laughing. "Gods. He loved you. Remember 'S'?"

Sephiroth shakes his head, unsure of any right words to say.

"Your nickname. Before. He used to say to me 'S sends his regards'. If you didn't write him back, he would get worried like a mother." Orlin brushes against the table and sits against it. He's laughing and crying all at once. "The cool doctor ran to his phone when it dinged. It nearly killed him when you had your accident and he couldn't come. The most genius man, the most empathetic, the sweetest, the most logical - and he cared about you ."

He's never seen another man cry. What is he supposed to do? They aren't supposed to cry. SOLDIERs can't cry either. Everything is wrong in a way that can't be fixed. As much as these words are about him, they don't feel for him.

Sephiroth breaks inside but it is aimless and confusing. He stumbles back another step trying to put space between them but it's suffocating in here. His mouth is full of sand. Tears run down his face. He keeps opening his mouth, hoping that the right words come out but it's only silence.

Orlin rubs his face and looks away. Then he shields his face entirely and a raw sob comes out. The phone buzzes relentlessly. Sephiroth waivers. How is he supposed to help when he doesn't remember anything? How is he supposed to handle someone crying? Why is he crying?

"Look kid, just leave. I'll text you later."

Sephiroth turns. "I'm so so sor-"

"Just leave."

And so he does.

Well.

It had to happen. Everything is starting to fall down again. We...we had fun, right?

How are you feeling?

Thank you for reading as always. -Quin

Thanks to A for betaing this chapter. You can find their FFVII work on Twitter (AngealLovesYou).