Chapter 65- Familiarity

October, 1995

Sephiroth stops in his tracks in the cafeteria. The salad flutters on his tray. A leaf eases out and onto the plastic tray. He barely notices. The eyes always watching him must be gawking at this uncharacteristic behavior. He straightens but does nothing more. They don't matter. All his attention has gone to the outside problem. This is what he needed to solve.

Someone sits at his table.

Correction: Two someones are sitting at his table.

All of Shinra leaves the table in the corner by the window alone. This is where he sits and waits for his lunch break to pass. He doesn't pride himself in how the table always appears empty but it is convenient. Habits form from constancy and when there is no variation to handle. When he runs off his habits, nothing has to be addressed. He walks the track of his life, the simple circle, painlessly. If no one wants to sit with him and break into that habit then so be it.

That has now changed.

The two remaining Firsts sit casually at his table sprawled out in the dining chairs. Genesis leans forward so far that the back legs of his chair hover off the floor. Angeal sits firmly in his. Both waive their hands as they chat with each other, empty plates in front of them. Genesis laughs at something. Sephiroth's spine locks up further. They haven't noticed him yet.

They must have made a mistake.

Sephiroth shifts his weight back. His shoe scuffs the ground. There is no reason to pursue this. He'll ask for a plastic container and eat in his office. While he enjoys his social time, he does not need this kind of close contact. It makes his life feel thin like a translucent piece of paper that holds no substance.

Genesis throws a wadded paper napkin at Angeal's shoulder.

Just like all the other Firsts, these two are fated to die as well. He shouldn't stay. No reason to waste time here. There is no reason to get attached. It will only hurt him in the future.

"Sephiroth."

It's Angeal.

Sephiroth nods in acknowledgment and turns to go back. Maybe he isn't hungry at all. The nearest trash can looks more appealing for this salad than bringing it upstairs with him. He used to fast on the front line before a battle. It made him sharper. It kept the edge from crawling around his mind trying to convince him he should feel something.

Emotions are impractical and deadly.

"We'd like to talk to you." Angeal continues after him. "Would you take a moment?"

Muscles clench in his chest but Sephiroth's face is practiced as he turns back to address them. "I have work today."

"Come sit down." Genesis' head drops back as he eyes him. "Who are you even fooling? We're in your spot and you are clearly pissed off about it. Come on. Tell us what you think."

This man.

Who thought this SOLDIER needed to be a First?

Angeal breaks the glare between the two of them. "Humor us."

Does he have a choice? While it is wise to ignore your subordinates on occasion, he still needed them to take orders. Grudges, Sephiroth corrects himself, further grudges will only make leadership more challenging. Genesis Rhapsodos is challenging enough already.

He weighs the options before conceding. Genesis' grin almost makes him change his mind as Sephiroth walks to his table. Genesis scoots to sit properly. It almost makes up for the satisfaction that is across his face.

His usual spot with its back to the corner and looks out over the cafeteria is still open. He takes it without another word. The presence of the others is wrong. They are not supposed to be here. The other Firsts watch him closely so Sephiroth orchestrates his own movements. They are enhanced. He must control himself tightly before something leaks out that is not supposed to. A faster heart rate, a slight shiver, an unnecessary slip of his shoes on the tile, anything could reveal the emotions that want to bloom in him.

Sephiroth puts the tray on the table in front of him and sits back, the practiced casualness he takes with the Board.

"If you have questions about your orders or the training, I would suggest a more formal meeting where I have access to the information that you may need."

Angeal shakes his head. "It's not like that. We want to meet the dogs that you are taking care of."

His foot slides on the tile in surprise. He hides it by adjusting his seat and sighing. No. This is not where this conversation was going. He needs to stop this train before it catches too much momentum.

"The dogs aren't mine to share." It is the safest answer.

"I had a lab when I was a kid. We want to play with him." Genesis' eyes fire up but his voice continues on easy and light."You've not had a problem with us doing your dirty work in Wutai for the last year, what's a little payment back?"

Sephiroth frowns. "What are you implicating, Rhapsodos?"

"My first name is Genesis. Or do you not remember me at all? You saved me, I swore my fealty to you, you ignored me for two years, then I saved you and then you continued to ignore me?"

Sephiroth says nothing.

Genesis sticks out his hand across the table.

"Genesis Rhapsodos, First Class SOLDIER."

"I never believed that it was my job to babysit you." Sephiroth doesn't move. He meets that glare and waits. He will back down. This is not the first time he has heard about the frustration that he gave Genesis for not treating him differently. If he knew that Sephiroth had completely forgotten about the man, he would have to contend with sword lunging for his gut.

"Let's play nice." Angeal's hand presses Genesis' arm down. Sephiroth doesn't miss Angeal stepping on Genesis' foot under the table. "And leave the past behind us. Would something that like be alright? He will be civil."

Sephiroth doesn't know what to think, let alone what to say. This is unexpected.

Angeal continues with a softness, "A little taste of home for us?"

A little taste of home? What must it be like to be fond of something that exists purely in memory? The anger that has taken permanent residence on Genesis' face flickers around the edges. The fire is there but the loss is there under it. His mind throws him back to Angeal petting Yuki. Did he get the same strange warm sensation from her as he did with Charlie?

"Fine. Tonight." Sephiroth stands and gathers the tray. "Six."

"We'll come to your place," Genesis says.

He gives an inch and they take a mile.

"No. We will come to you. Which apartment is more appropriate?"

"Mine," Angeal says quickly, "I'll put together some drinks."

Sephiroth trusts himself to nod and leave. Regret covers him as soon as he has turned his back. What has he done? His mind kicks into gear and tells everything that will go wrong. This is outside his routine. It sits outside his social strategy. He shifts things around, puzzling at this problem.

The salad gets dumped in the trash.

He needs all the focus he can get.

Only one good point comes to mind as he sits on Angeal's couch. The dogs are happy here.

Charlie did one small loop around the living room sniffing things before sitting at Sephiroth's feet. Sephiroth took a seat on the couch because that is what is offered to him. Angeal designated that he should sit there so therefore he would. Yuki continues to run and spin on the floor until one of the SOLDIERs gives her attention.

Genesis' shoulders have dropped several inches since Sephiroth's arrival and finally he eased onto the floor. It's strange to see Genesis in more civilian clothes as he drags the small dog onto his lap. Yuki has no problems welcoming a new person into her life and covering his face in saliva. Seeing Genesis squirm after a moment, trying to get away from her tongue, it was almost worth this unknown.

Sephiroth places his hand on Charlie's head, soaking in the change of environment. Angeal's apartment is the same in layout as his but everything is different. He's painted his walls in warm tones and the furniture looks like a reflection of how he wants the world to see him. Sephiroth was set in his apartment like a doll in a dollhouse. Changes are possible, he supposes, but he simply does not have the purpose to try. It is a gilded cage.

His mind has to skate over the decorations in the room. There are paintings on the walls. Books line a bookshelf with plants overflowing most edges. Unopened mail sits on the coffee table. The surface of the table has water rings. A handmade quilt is on the back of a loveseat. Small trees sit by windows. A few photos sit in frames that compliment the image.

There is too much to process here.

"I wasn't sure your favorite but the employee says this tastes good." Angeal walks from the kitchen and offers him a glass of wine. As if seeing Sephiroth himself is funny sitting in his living room, he laughs. "But what would I know? I hardly drink."

Of course, Angeal doesn't know that Sephiroth doesn't drink now either. He takes the glass. Just holding the red feels frighteningly familiar to him. The glass' surface brings too many bad memories creeping back into him.

"I'm sure they knew what they were talking about," Sephiroth says, breaking out of the spiral and pretending to smell it. The formality hasn't left his tone. He's been to his fair share of private events for Shinra. He knows how to act there. He's running with that set of behavior. Answer the questions asked of him, make the necessary conversation and wait for the designated hour to leave.

There usually isn't a beaten couch and two pets panting happily in this situation.

Or that the two people in the room aren't trying to get in his pants or understand his molecular makeup.

At least the slow jazz in the background is the same.

Angeal sits down on the opposite side of the couch and sets his drink down on the side table. Charlie turns his head, shedding Sephiroth's hand and eases towards Angeal. The smile suits his face as Angeal runs a few fingers down the dog's cheek. Charlie leans into it and closes his eyes again.

Sephiroth twists the glass, staring at the way the liquid drags against the surface. "He likes you."

"Labs like good souls." Angeal looks at him. The words are not about Angeal. Sephiroth feels the weight of that and concentrates on his reflection in the glass. The wine paints him red and bloody. That is better. That suits him. That face is who he has been most of his life. That is the Sephiroth that he recognizes.

Genesis' voice cuts the silence, saving him from responding. "Hey. Where's mine?"

"The bottle and the glass are in the kitchen," Angeal says.

"You'll serve him but not me."

"Gen, you aren't the guest tonight."

Gen.

Familiarity.

Sephiroth's throat constricts. He shouldn't be here. He could leave the dogs and come back later. This isn't his place. If anything, he will somehow make the conflict worse between Genesis and himself. The First would lose interest in the dogs and then notice any number of inexcusable mistakes that Sephiroth seems to make. He has no interest in building bridges with his men but making them like him less is even more undesirable.

His mind preps the excuse. It has to be plausible.

"So who do you see in that newest round of recruits as possible Third material?" Angeal asks and he leans back against the couch, throwing an arm wide. Charlie draws his head into his lap. Drool starts to darken the fabric immediately. If he notices, he does nothing to stop it.

Sephiroth watches him. What kind of trick is this? They are not in Shinra. This is not a work environment. None of the SOLDIERs have any possible way of also being Turks. The Turks and SOLDIER divisions have started to be divisive but asking his opinions on the candidates is something done in a meeting, not in a living room. To his understanding, this is not what social gatherings are about.

"Are you seriously going to talk about work right now?" Genesis asks from the floor, mirroring his own thoughts. He's found a ribbon somewhere and is pulling Yuki's hair into a bun. The dog is mush in his lap. The tail thumping makes Sephiroth not worry. The dog is happy.

Angeal is so casual that Sephiroth almost misses the pointed look. It bites hard enough that it should draw blood from Genesis. He rolls his eyes and goes back to the dog in his lap. Sephiroth takes a sip out of the wine out of desperation to do something. He's thankful that it rolls down his throat sour and bitter. His nose flares reflexively. Hopefully Angeal didn't spend too much money on bad wine.

"So, I am interested, I'm partial to the skinny short fellow from Cosmo." Angeal pushes forward.

"He is physically strong but I wonder about his mentality." Sephiroth finds himself saying it to his own surprise. This is the data that he analyzes on a weekly basis but stating his opinion to another interested party is different. Usually he approves or denies the final lists of recommendations. Lazard simply signs his name at the bottom of the order.

"Oh?" Angeal takes a drink, coughs and sets down the glass. "Keep talking, I'm getting us water."

"His marks were not good on the last teamwork exam." Sephiroth bends down and runs his hand through Charlie's fur. "Physical strength will only get you so far."

An absent part of him notes that he is leaking words and thoughts. He can't summon the effort to care as he twists a piece of fur between his fingers.

"That's for sure," The commentary on the floor says.

"And who do you think?"

"The up north guy."

"No. He is disqualified from this conversation." Angeal returns with three glasses of water.

"Shut up."

Angeal smiles so knowingly that it feels as if he is giving Sephiroth more than a glass of water as he leans down. "Somebody has a crush."

"You aren't supposed to rat me out."

The conversation eases. Sephiroth finds himself leaning forward, trying to make them see the best qualities needed in SOLDIER. Genesis gives no ground. Angeal politely half agrees at points. Somehow they take bets on the best candidate. Charlie ends up on the couch and drools on Sephiroth's lap. Yuki takes more time but soon their voices drop in volume as both animals fall asleep.

He catches himself sighing as he holds the empty glass. The time on the antique clock is startling. It is nearing midnight. He should have exercised and showered. He should be getting ready for bed. Instead he is three apartments away and the couch has started to feel remarkably soft. His spine goes stiff. Suppressing the rest of the physical reaction, his mind wakes up. This should not be so good. He cannot relax around subordinates. This is not correct.

This should not be comfortable.

He makes his excuses and leaves with the dogs.

Part of him feels like it is getting dragged behind like it wants to stay in that room.

Something is deeply wrong with him.

He tries to be wary around them and to remember the traps that he has fallen into before. There is no point to this. He will waste his time here. The feelings in him are not important. They are cracks in his foundation.

These are the things that are keeping him here trapped in Midgar. He knows he is staying here because of his behavior. He is too emotional, too much of him has splintered with no way to fix it. He cannot advance this interaction. It will only make matters worse. His mind keeps coming back to it anyways. It dwells on the warmth of the room. He had spoken and someone else had listened. It should not affect him. He speaks to others all the time.

He avoids his spot in the cafeteria and leaves as late as he thinks that dogs can stand for days. It's too late for the animals. He cleans up his first mess silently. Hallway trips are made at unusual times. Everything becomes erratic. It rocks him internally but it is no worse than what the other Firsts have already done.

He avoids them actively.

Still, it is fruitless.

It always is.

Genesis manages to slip in the elevator with him.

They don't talk the ride down. Genesis hovers in front of the door, eying him from the side. Sephiroth looks at the display of numbers that they are dropping past and wonders if he has some reason to get off in Construction and Structure. He does not.

The personal vendetta has not changed. Genesis is tense, ready to fight him right here in this small space.

Sephiroth could do it. He would win, no doubt there, but he doesn't want to. Perhaps then things would change but it isn't worth it.

There is no pleasure in fighting past mistakes. He knows that now.

So he listens to Genesis breathe sharply and stands his ground.

The elevators chimes as it opens the lobby.

"Bring the dogs by Angeal's tonight at six. He'll be disappointed otherwise."

The red coat is gone in a flash. Sephiroth sucks in his breath before following him out. Well, there it is. Genesis didn't even give him the chance to say no. He does not have the Firsts' numbers in his phone. Not that he would rather start calling or texting these men. He shakes his head at himself. Communicating with Angeal and Genesis? That is unreasonable and his number is classified.

The Silver Elite had gotten it late last year.

His phone had started buzzing and it had not stopped until the battery died.

Many regrettable messages and images were sent to his phone before ITS stopped it. A couple of death threats but so many penises, breasts, feet and naked bodies invaded his life. The videos were worse as they jiggled. Eventually, he made his decision to wipe the memory. The last remnant of Rafi sacrificed.

He has to remember himself. This time it will be procedural. He will do it for the animals. He will allow the dogs to get some attention that they cannot get from him and then they will go back at a reasonable hour. Nothing more, nothing less. He will remain reserved and quiet. He will not connect.

Sephiroth returns to the apartment even later than the time before.

He shakes his head, trying to clear the alien emotions as he struggles to get his door open. Yuki is asleep in his arms and Charlie pads behind him with the leash dragging. It should not be pleasant to be distracted. The fob chirps. His shoulder shoves the door open. The apartment is dark and empty. The blank walls remain as they were.

The memory of that night stacks up next to the one before. Two similar experiences that he should not allow himself to enjoy.

He continues to vary his routine. They continue to find him.

Angeal always tells him how nice it was to see him and would he come over again?

Genesis demands and stalks away.

Sephiroth doesn't refuse.

He can't.

He can't even explain why.

Every time he thinks of making his excuse, he realizes that he can't stand the idea. Right before he leaves, he always reconsiders. The silent apartment digs hard and the pain settles back into his chest and he cannot stand that so he calls the dogs to come from their beds. For their part, the animals seem enormously pleased to go to Angeal's.

Sephiroth has found a spot to sit. He understands a pattern in what they do. If either Genesis or Angeal wish to do something different, they don't express it. Genesis sits on the floor, brushes Yuki and runs his mouth. He snaps at Sephiroth but there is an intensity under it unrelated to anger. Angeal meditates between them. Work is typically the topic of conversation but sometimes other things slip in.

Sephiroth's throat grows thick with these unknown topics.

If they notice, they don't push it. They keep chatting around him until he finds his footing again.

This hurts him. It's almost embarrassing if they were paying attention to it. He's not a five year old. He's a grown man but he chokes on his own words. Genesis verbally chews on any topic constantly. Yet when they are talking about the latest drama surrounding the play opening down the street, Sephiroth drops silent. He knows nothing about this. Genesis' eyes draw across his as he pretends to nod along. Tension weaves around his ribcage. This time he will be forced to say something. He will mock him.

Instead Genesis blinks with a change of expression that is unreadable and waves his hand. "Come on, actors are one thing, Turks are a whole other level of drama. Which one would you like to kill first if you could?"

Sephiroth is the first to answer.

And it is a relief.