Chapter 13: Confession 2: It's Nothing Dangerous, Illegal, or Life-Threatening

By the time dinner was on the table, Sephiroth was starving and had snitched a few more pieces of raw vegetables when no one was looking. He dug in as soon as the platters of steaming food were in front of him. Angeal's meals were always infinitely superior to the Shinra cafeterias. Sephiroth ended up taking three helpings of curry and rice, making sure to get extra shrimp, and felt not a trace of guilt at doing so. Not when Genesis had big portions for seconds, as well. They were guests, as Genesis reminded everyone while he scooped out extra large servings. Angeal could do without having some leftovers for a change.

Angeal just laughed, shook his head, and took seconds, too.

Well lubricated by more of Genesis's Loveless cocktails—which really didn't go with either shrimp curry or chocolate cake, but which he kept serving anyway, making sure that Angeal's glass in particular did not remain empty for long—conversation was convivial and managed to stay in the realm of small talk: griping about some of the more inane company policies; salacious gossip about President Shinra's peccadillos and speculation about any resulting, if unacknowledged, progeny; and Angeal's new protégé, one Zack Fair, SOLDIER Third Class, prodigy extraordinaire on the fast track to Second and widely considered an eventual shoe-in for First. Angeal gushed about him incessantly until both Sephiroth and Genesis wanted to pelt him with curry-coated serving implements and leftover chunks of onion. They might have considered using the cherries from the decimated cake, but they ate those instead.

"Now he's got a student who's required to listen to his lectures," Genesis sniped, but it didn't dampen Angeal's enthusiasm at all. He liked to teach. In any case, Sephiroth often found those lectures rather endearing—as long as they didn't go on too long.

It was just as well the topic was about teaching and students, since as long as Angeal talked about Zack, they all kept away from the forbidden topic of Veld's meeting.

Finally, as Angeal was simultaneously trying to clear the dishes off the table and shoo his friends into the living room, Sephiroth had enough of small talk and said directly, "Tomorrow's an early day, it's after eight, and Genesis's plan to get you drunk isn't working. It's time to quit stalling."

"Hey, it might have worked if I'd had a little longer," Genesis protested. He started mixing more drinks, this time using the stash of supplies Sephiroth had brought.

Angeal rolled his eyes and carted the dinnerware to the kitchen sink.

"You told us you'd explain what was going on with Veld," Sephiroth said reproachfully.

"I did," Angeal said as he came to the living room. He bypassed his armchair and plopped down in the middle of the couch. "And I will."

"Good," said Genesis. He handed them each a fizzy and somewhat murky looking drink: mostly green with dark red at the bottom, over ice. Sephiroth eyed it dubiously. Genesis told him, "It's called Blood of the Ancients. You know, the one you brought?"

"Hmmm. I had no idea it would appear so unappealing."

"It's tasty, though." Genesis took a sip, then a stance before the couch in front of Angeal with only the coffee table between them. "So," he said to his childhood friend, "who is Michael Stevens and why are the Turks interrogating you about him?"

"I'm Michael Stevens," Angeal stated, and chugged half his drink.

They stared at him, speechless.

He shrugged. "You asked."

"And the Turks?" Sephiroth asked.

"Well, that's...kind of embarrassing to explain. The whole thing is, really."

Sephiroth found himself relieved by that response. Angeal had insisted earlier that it was nothing to worry about, but the way he'd been avoiding the subject had been concerning. "Embarrassing" did imply that whatever situation he had gotten himself into, it wasn't anything dangerous, illegal, or life-threatening. Though, in that case, why were the Turks involved? Specifically Veld, the leader of the Turks?

He sat down next to Angeal and queried, "What is it that you find so embarrassing?"

Genesis rolled his eyes. "I suppose you're going to tell us that it's a long story?"

"It is, I guess," Angeal said defensively. "It didn't start out that way, but Shinra sure made it into a big production. I honestly think everyone had forgotten about it until the company made a fuss."

"Forgotten about what?" asked Genesis, while at the same time Sephiroth said, "What fuss?" He couldn't recall any company fuss related to Angeal aside from the usual PR and promotional nonsense that all three of them sometimes endured. Besides, this was Angeal, the one person Sephiroth knew who was least likely to do anything that might upset Shinra management. And Sephiroth included himself in that accounting.

Angeal tossed off the rest of his drink. "Have either of you ever heard of Barely Legal magazine?" he asked them.

Genesis's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he shook his head. Sephiroth just felt confused. The name sounded like a porn magazine to him, or something equally disreputable. What had that to do with Angeal and the Turks?

Angeal rubbed his face, held out his glass and shook it, making the melting ice cubes clink. "Gen, please get me another one. Sephiroth can look it up."

Sephiroth took instruction well. He got out his PHS and started a search.

When Genesis came back a couple minutes later, Angeal took the glass and again downed half the contents. Sephiroth frowned at what he had found on his PHS, and Genesis bent down to peer at the screen.

"Barely Legal was a pornographic magazine," Sephiroth said, "specializing in younger male models, though always over the age of consent as defined by local laws. It's been out of business for over five years. I can't find much else about it."

Angeal swallowed the rest of his drink in a few large gulps. Genesis straightened and gaped at him, wide-eyed.

Sephiroth wasn't actually as naïve as many people assumed due on his habit of staying quiet in preference to inadvertently causing offense. His upbringing as a ward of the Shinra Company, under the tutelage of Hojo and the Science Department, assured that he'd developed a disgust of humanity in general. His academic, physical, and military education was extraordinary and highly effective, but his social opinions were cynical, at best, and he'd learned to keep his mouth shut rather than offend company officials who often behaved like spoiled aristocrats with the IQ of dirt rather than pragmatic businessmen. It irritated him no end that Hojo felt the same about the greedy fools who ran the company, and that he'd probably picked up his sense of disdain—among other attitudes—from that contemptible neurotic.

Then he'd been thrown into the Wutai War when he was twelve years old and received a different kind of education. Aside from a few of the older leaders, most of his comrades-in-arms had been in their teens and early twenties. Young men in their teens and twenties were remarkably hormone-driven and, to be honest, flat-out horny. Once he'd turned thirteen, some of his least-intimidated comrades had taken it upon themselves to educate him. He'd seen more than a few porn magazines and knew what people liked to do while looking at the pictures. He also knew such magazines weren't limited to male audiences and that they covered a wide range of tastes. Something for everyone, as it were.

His education in Wutai had not been restricted to looking at dirty pictures and jerking off during down time. Alcohol and drugs had been abundant, prostitutes plentiful, and gambling for crazy stakes a given. So were pointless cruelties committed just to alleviate stress and boredom. When Sephiroth got older and had more authority, he always curtailed those activities when he encountered them. The war was cruel enough already—it didn't need any extra help.

Sephiroth considered himself far worldlier than Genesis and Angeal, both of whom had grown up relatively sheltered in a rural community. When he'd first met them, so many years ago, they'd seemed so painfully innocent to him, and he'd carried that impression with him ever since. Genesis's desire to be admired as a hero, Angeal's tendencies to see the best in people and his peculiar need to help them...

His friends might know more about "normal life" and casual, everyday human interactions, but their exposure to the seamier, amoral, and downright despicable sides of humanity had always been much more limited than his, even after they'd also joined the war and seen their share of atrocities. Their sheltered childhoods had molded who they were at fundamental levels.

Though perhaps they were not quite as sheltered as he had always assumed, considering what Angeal seemed to be admitting about his past. Sephiroth asked out of honest curiosity, "Was it targeted to gay men or to straight women?"

Angeal blinked at him. "That's your only question?" Sephiroth shrugged. Angeal sighed and said, "I never really knew for sure, and I can't say I ever cared. The money was good, and my family was going through a rough patch, financially."

"Wait, wait, wait, slow down here," said Genesis, who appeared to be having a hard time processing the new information about his long-time friend. "You posed for a porn magazine? When did you do that? How did I never know about it?"

"We weren't attached at the hip, Gen. Besides, you didn't know everything that went on in Banora."

Genesis did a good imitation of a gasping fish for a few seconds. Then he got hold of himself and glared at Sephiroth. "You're not the first person today to tell me I was oblivious to a lot of things back home. Seph said something like that at breakfast, too."

"What?" Angeal asked, baffled.

Sephiroth remembered the morning conversation and protested, "That wasn't what I said at all. I merely asked if you knew everyone in Banora." Never mind what he had insinuated with that particular question. He said to Angeal, "It was while we were waiting for you to finish your meeting with Veld."

"Yeah, sorry I didn't come back," Angeal replied, not meeting his eyes and not sounding sorry at all.

Sephiroth let it pass. Now that he knew something of what was going on, it was easy to see why Angeal had chosen avoidance for most of the day. He'd probably been working up his nerve. "Which issue were you in?" Again, he was honestly curious.

Angeal gave him a funny look. "It was some summer or fall issue. I think they called it 'Harvest Special' or something like that."

"At least you had the sense to use an assumed name." Sephiroth immediately started searching on his PHS.

"You probably won't find much of anything online," Angeal informed him. "The Turks were very thorough when it came to scrubbing it out of my past."

"You never answered my questions," Genesis told him, affronted and upset. "When did you do...when did you pose for that—those—?"

"Stop sputtering, Genesis. I was fifteen. It was a few months before we came to Midgar. I never told you because, well, who would? It was never that important, anyway, except for the money."

"But—how? Why?"

"How? They were doing a harvest special issue and had photographers trolling rural communities all year for photogenic farm boys and field hands. As to why? I already told you. Money. You know Mom and Dad mostly worked manual labor and service jobs so we never had a lot. I made more money in one afternoon than I could in a year of picking dumbapples for the local farmers, even after taxes." He grinned in a lopsided, self-deprecating way. "I was pretty proud of myself at the time. You know I started buffing up younger than normal. I was picked to be the centerfold in that issue, so the pay was great."

Sephiroth took note that Angeal had been the centerfold and adjusted his search parameters.

"What about all that talk about honor and pride? All those lectures?" Still shocked, Genesis fairly goggled at him and asked, "Gaia, did your parents know about it?"

Sephiroth snorted but kept his eyes fixed on his screen.

"Of course not," Angeal said. "I portioned the money out and gave it to them little by little so I could tell them it was earnings from picking dumbapples. I sent the rest after we got to Midgar and started in the program. I told them it was from my pay." Angeal scowled at his childhood friend. "Mom better not hear any differently."

"Damn it, Angeal, if you guys needed money that badly you know you could have come to me."

"No, I couldn't," he replied, crossing his arms and glowering.

"Yes, you could!" Genesis snarled.

"We were kids! Fifteen! It wouldn't have been right, I wouldn't take advantage of you—"

"Take advantage? You idiot! You damned, prideful, moronic—"

Sephiroth broke in before they came to blows over something so stupid. "You were correct, Angeal. There is nothing online related to the Michael Stevens centerfold for Barely Legal aside from a few old fan club chats, and they only indicate a member once heard that a friend of a friend of a friend had recognized you. In general, they considered the whole thing to be interesting but apocryphal. I take it the company decided the magazine was a liability?"

Genesis opened his mouth again, closed it, and just muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath. He stalked back to the kitchen and proceeded to mix more drinks.

Angeal had winced at the mention of the fan club, but said, "Yeah, right after I made First. Shinra didn't give a damn while I was a Third or Second, but once they wanted to start the public promotion campaigns, well, that's when it became a problem and they decided to do some...sanitation work, I believe they called it."

Sephiroth smirked at the thought. "It would have created an unacceptable image for the PR department, particularly if your brand new fan club had managed to get its collective hands on a copy."

"By then it was old news." Angeal shook his head. "Most copies were probably dumped in recycling or a landfill long before Shinra ever cared about it. That didn't stop the company brass from ordering the Turks to track down every copy left and to wipe all digital traces from the Worldwide Network, private networks, and server farms. They even got the original photos and files, and I think they paid everyone involved to sign NDAs, too."

"With massive payouts, along with equally massive consequences for failure to comply with the terms of the agreement." It wouldn't be the first time Shinra had abused non-disclosure agreements, to the detriment of the poor victims forced to sign them.

"Probably." Angeal stared at the Buster Sword in its wall mount. "You know, I'd do it again. If it would have kept my father alive, I'd have made a career of it, and to hell with Shinra."

"Of course." Sephiroth followed his gaze. He knew the story, how Angeal's father had worked himself to death to pay off the loans for that sword. A stress-induced heart attack, he recalled. There was no way Angeal could have known what would happen, but no logical discussion had ever been able to convince him that he hadn't been somehow at fault. Ever since, he'd treated that sword like a sacred relic. Maybe someday he'd get over it enough to use the Buster Sword as his father had intended.

Sephiroth had always felt ill-equipped to deal with emotional landmines, so per his usual practice he sidestepped around them with pragmatism, instead. "That covers the history with that magazine. So what is the Turks' current interest in Michael Stevens?"

Angeal accepted the redirection easily. It seemed to Sephiroth that he didn't really want to talk about it again, either. Instead, he just sighed and said, "Yeah, well, I guess an old copy came to light recently. Seems they found one in a used bookstore in the slums. They've got standing orders to check on those kinds of places occasionally, just in case. I guess it was inevitable that there were still a few floating around."

"I fail to see any real problem, then, if the Turks have it."

Angeal uttered a humorless laugh. "You'd think so, but as it turns out, they lost it."

Sephiroth stared at him, rendered speechless by the insane idea that the Turks could simply lose something that was in their possession.

The kitchen went quiet as Genesis stopped clanking glassware and bottles. He asked, "Did I hear that right?"

"Unfortunately, you did," Angeal confirmed. "Apparently, that's the only reason I was informed about it at all. They would have simply destroyed it and none of us would have been the wiser. Veld even apologized to me, but he didn't provide any details other than to say they were working to reacquire the rotten thing."

"They lost it," Sephiroth repeated, still struggling with the cognitive dissonance created by the idea of the Turks losing anything. He would have never imagined such a thing happening.

"Baffling, I know." Angeal sighed. "In any case, Veld insisted you know about it. It seems there could be problematic fallout if the Turks don't find the magazine again and it somehow becomes public. He gave me the choice of telling you myself, or letting him tell you. So we could all prepare for the worst."

Genesis returned with a tray of fresh drinks and handed them out. "Pretty obvious which option you'd pick."

"Yeah, I'm sure he knew that." Angeal accepted a glass. "He's telling Lazard tomorrow. I opted to avoid being present for that particular conversation, but I'm sure I'll be getting called to his office like a truant schoolchild tomorrow." His lips twisted like he'd tasted something sour.

"Probably, but for now there's nothing to be done," Sephiroth agreed. He stared down at his drink and quirked an eyebrow. "Loveless cocktails again?" Even when Genesis wasn't quoting the tedious poem, he found ways to reference it constantly. Though Sephiroth had to admit, despite the annoying name, the drink was pretty good.

"We finished the booze you brought, and this is the last of mine. We'll have to break into Angeal's stash next."

Sephiroth eyed his drink again. He hadn't realized they'd consumed quite so much alcohol, and reviewed the conversation. Genesis's plan to get Angeal buzzed enough to talk freely affected all of them. Good thing the mako in their blood raised their metabolisms enough to burn it almost as fast as they drank it. Otherwise they'd all be looking at a hard morning.

Genesis set the tray on the coffee table and flung himself onto the couch on Angeal's other side. With an elegant toss of his head, he flipped his hair out of his eyes and said grandly, "By the way, you're forgiven." He nudged Angeal's shoulder.

Angeal scowled at him. "Forgiven? For what?"

"For keeping such a big secret from me for all these years, of course." He grinned, looking positively evil, and waggled a chastising finger. "I suppose I should thank the Turks for being incompetent for once in their perfect, black hearted, petty little lives. Seph and I now have some excellent blackmail material that we'd never have heard about, otherwise. You'd better be nice to us. Anytime you start to lecture us, all we have to do is say Michael Stevens's name, right?"

"And that sort of thing would be one reason why the company tried to destroy all the evidence," Sephiroth commented. It was an intriguing idea, though. His lips twitched up as he considered the possibilities.

"Only if it's done by outsiders! We're different," Genesis insisted cheerfully. He threw a companionable arm around Angeal's shoulders. "Aren't we, friend?"

"Oh, Goddess," Angeal groaned, hiding his face in his free hand.

"I knew you'd see it my way."

Sephiroth chuckled softly.

Notes: The drinks are real. I haven't tried them, so can't vouch for their taste. The recipes can be found on The Drunken Moogle blog: h.t.t.p.s. : slash slash thedrunkenmoogle dot com