Title/Author: Stealing Heartlines by Reinamy
Pairings: Cloud/Sephiroth, minor Zack/Aeris
Rating: PG-13 (subject to change)
Warnings: Canon AU, circumstantial ooc-ness, age disparity, mature themes and language, non-explicit sexual content, romance/pairing-centric, slow burn, time skips, butchering of canon timeline, relatively little plot, bamf!Cloud, un-beta'd, etc.
Summary: In which General Sephiroth falls in love with a thief.
Disclaimer: This is non-profitable fan-work. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note: *Bites fingernails* Okay, so this is a canon AU wherein Cloud was raised in the slums. There are several canonical discrepancies, though the most important of note is that the Planet isn't in immediate danger of dying, Jenova is dormant, and there's about a 10 year age difference between Cloud and Sephiroth. And now that that's out of the way...please enjoy!
01. [ μ ] – εуλ 1984 / September
If anyone were to have asked, traversing below the plate was not an improvement to being holed up in his office with heaps of paperwork to sort through. Some would consider it a reprieve from the monotony of form-filling, report surveying, and having to attend mind-numbing conferences, but likely those people had little in the way of a moral conscience or mako-enhanced senses that made the offensive stench that permeated the slums nigh unbearable.
It was a conglomeration of urine, feces, trash, inadequate hygiene, and disease, and to one whose sense of smell was heightened by nearly twenty-eight percent in comparison to the average human's, it was terrible, a tangible pong that burned his nostrils and seared his airways and made his sensitive eyes sting. Not plugging his nose was an exercise in restraint, as was appearing to remain unaffected as he stalked through the streets of Sector 7 and witnessed firsthand the extent of ShinRa's malfeasance.
Brigadier General Sephiroth, SOLDIER First Class, was not a kind man. Murder, subjugation, tyranny, abduction, torture, theft—he'd committed it all, often without question or hesitance, and prompted by nothing more than narrow orders conveniently bereft of substance, of justification, of excuse. But as an operative of ShinRa—whether or not that was of his own volition was inconsequential—that was what was expected of him. He had a job, and he did it well.
Even so. Sephiroth was not a kind man, but neither was he heartless, and he wasn't immune to the poverty that festered in Midgar's slums; of the living conditions of ShinRa Inc.'s forsaken. As he walked, his eyes imperceptibly tracked the crude simulacrum of houses made of castoffs and waste; and the trash that littered the dusty ground and erupted into hazardous, misshapen knolls; and the people, threadbare and pale, who cringed into the shadows beneath pipes and makeshift awnings, giving him a wide, careful berth.
His eyes briefly caught the sunken gaze of a woman huddled in the shade between two cardboard huts, and he glanced away when she ran a provocative hand over one bra-clad breast and licked her lips, her intent, her hope, clear. From that point on he kept his gaze forward, straying only when something suspicious entered the periphery of his sight.
Gaia, but he hated when work brought him beneath the plate.
A gaggle of children erupted from behind a garbage hill onto the road in front of him, laughing as they waved metal plates and rusted pipes. So absorbed in their game, they didn't see him until he was but a few paces away. A girl, draped in rags held together by rope and sheer faith, was the first to notice, and a frightened gasp of "Soldier!" had the rest of them looking his way, wide-eyed, no doubt, at the armored, sword-wielding man bearing down on them. With a chorus of curses and yelps they scattered like startled birds, scampering in every direction. Sephiroth couldn't help but think that it said a lot about ShinRa's relationship with the city's subterranean that the army, whose purpose should have been to protect Midgar's citizens, were feared to such an extent.
A small body crashed into his legs and Sephiroth looked down to see a head of yellow hair before the boy shook it and tried to get around him. Pursing his lips in exasperation, he gave the boy two seconds before he reached out and caught him by the scruff of his shirt.
"Hey!" The boy flailed. "Lemme go!"
"I will when you return the item you stole off my person."
"Don't know whatcha talkin' 'bout," he spat.
"Don't you," Sephiroth said flatly, loosening his grip on the threadbare material of the shirt when the boy's struggles ceased. When Sephiroth was certain he wasn't going to bolt (good though it would do him if he did) he released him and opened his palm, waiting.
The boy glanced at the outstretched hand, then finally looked up at him, and Sephiroth was met with the brightest pair of eyes he'd ever seen that weren't enhanced with mako. They were as blue as Junon's midsummer sky—though perhaps comparing them to the icy caps of Mt. Corel would be more appropriate, given the glare aimed his way.
With visible reluctance the boy reached into his satchel and pulled out a glossy green orb. Sephiroth pocketed the materia the moment it was dropped into his hand and studied the boy. He couldn't have been any older than six or seven by the looks of it and displayed the dirt-caked feet, tattered clothing, and sallowness that was characteristic of the poorest slummers.
"Are you aware," Sephiroth started tonelessly, "that pickpocketing in Midgar is a class-D crime punishable by a minimum of six months confinement? I should report you to the local authorities."
Sephiroth had expected instant contrition and panic. What he got instead was more silence and a darker stare. Oh, the boy was scared—it was evident in the dilation of his pupils, the quickening of his breath, the nearly indiscernible trembling of his limbs—but he was certainly making a commendable effort not to show it. The General took in his clenched fists (as small as hummingbird eggs and just as fragile), his straight spine and lifted chin, the pale scars he could see littered throughout his body, telltale signs of a rough upbringing in an unforgiving environment. It all made for a fascinating picture, but what struck Sephiroth the most was his eyes, glittering with frustration, narrowed with rebellion, and as mesmerizing as any ice materia he'd ever harnessed.
"Go," Sephiroth found himself saying, and the boy gave him one final inscrutable look before he bolted, swift and agile, across the narrow road and behind a hut, kicking up clouds of dirt as he escaped.
For a moment Sephiroth simply stood there, staring, before commotion up ahead pulled him from his thoughts and he continued his tread.
He wasn't sure why, but the encounter had…unsettled him. Perhaps it was the incident as a whole. That someone had the audacity to steal from a SOLDIER, let alone him, was inconceivable. Genesis and Angeal would certainly get a laugh from it, which was why he promptly decided never to tell them. The last thing he wanted was to be teased for having been pickpocketed by a slum urchin-and that's precisely what had happened, even if Sephiroth had realized it before the boy had managed to get away.
How…embarrassing.
Focus, Sephiroth told himself as he turned left at a crossroad and made his way towards the towering junkyard hills and the reactor that loomed behind it. You still have a job to do.
And with that, all thoughts of bright, unruly hair and azure eyes dissipated from his mind.
to be continued.
A/N: No, this story will not feature shouta/chan/etc in any way, shape, or form. The romance aspects of the fic are still a long ways off. Moving on! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my new FF7 fic. It's been years since I've played/seen it but I'll do my best to keep the characters from being terribly OOC...well, as much as I'm able to given the vastly different circumstances.
If anyone would like to beta-read this fic feel free to contact me via PM.
Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated.