Chapter 14 - A Divided Mind

Summer, 1984

Sephiroth wakes up.

He comes back in pieces that take time to fit together.

A car rumbles in the background. Voices chatter. He's being gently shaken. His body is curled up on his side with a foreign arm draped over his shoulders. Everything is sluggish. He sways back and forth. Dull memories try to find a spark to remember but can't. His mouth is dry and his head throbs.

It comes to him.

He's still alive.

That gets his eyes fluttering and the light is too sharp. He's alive. He's waking up. Was it all just a bad dream? The sounds of a car engine and a hard seat underneath him tell otherwise. It isn't a bad dream. It happened. Landon has tricked him. Pain twitches in his chest. The doctor had never been good to him but he never truly hurt him. He's a doctor. He's supposed to help people. He's been in Sephiroth's life since the beginning. Sephiroth can't imagine his life without him. Surely that counts for something?

But Landon hadn't killed him. He's breathing and he's pretty sure that he's not hurt. The air in his lungs burns but that's okay. He can live with that. It is better than being dead. It smells bad here, like a stuffy room with too many pieces of dirty clothes in it.

The car goes over a bump. Fingers tighten into his chest. He tries to open his eyes again. They make it open but the shapes are hazy grays and greens. It hurts too much for his mind and he closes them again. He kicks out a leg, feeling knots in his muscles.

"Landon, your pretty boy is awake." The voice's accent is strange to him. It's sharp and snipping. It is a different texture than anything else that he's heard in Nibelheim.

Nibelheim.

He realizes that there is a good chance that he is very far away from that place. The car has to be going somewhere, right? It makes his stomach drop out of his body. Fear remembers itself in him. He blinks a couple of times to clear his vision but it does little to help him. He wants to explore but not like this. All he wants now is his bed and everything else.

"Sephiroth?" This voice is familiar and the hand pushes him onto his back. His head rolls in the voice's lap. He looks into another blurry face but he knows this one. Landon sits next to him, holding him close. All the blood is gone. He's even wearing a different shirt. Emotions come up through him again. Landon shot Mariella. Sephiroth saw him kill her with his own eyes. How could he have done that? How could he break them up like that? His chest hitches. What did he do wrong?

A hard pinch on his arm brings him back from spiraling into grief.

"You need to be a man now," Landon says urgently, "Men keep their emotions to themselves. I saved you from Shinra. Be thankful for that. They wanted to kill you."

The words aren't meaningless to him. They hit him only in a way that makes Sephiroth's world spin even more.

"Yeah. Your friend called us up," Another voice says.

"Don't make me regret it," Landon says.

"Oh, we will. You say that he's extraordinary? Then he better be extraordinary for Wutai."

Wutai? Sephiroth tries to push himself up but Landon's arm keeps him locked onto his back. Wutai are the bad people. The evil ones that are doing everything wrong. He's been kidnapped by the enemies of Shinra. His wrists sting as he squirms. It doesn't take more than a second to realize that they are locked together. The lack of mobility frightens him. Never before has he not been able to use his hand.

Landon looks at him again and he sees the guilt. He shot Mariella. Now there is this.

"He'll be fine," He says to Sephiroth more than to the other man, "He has to be."

The tears start and once again comes the pinch on his arm. Sephiroth prides himself in not flinching. Closing his eyes, he waits through the dizziness. Landon's arm is supposed to comfort but it is brick on his chest. He hurts. The grief stings everywhere. He doesn't want to look around. He doesn't want to study these people. He doesn't want to be part of this. He wants to be home.

So he withdraws within himself. It is safe there. He controls everything inside of him. If he is alone in this, he needs to cling to the things that are safe and the only things that he knows are safe are inside him.

The ride lasts hours. Sephiroth pretends to sleep and imagines this will go away. Gast and Orlin will stop this car. They will rescue him. The voices yammer over his head. Sometimes he understands. It takes him a while to realize that they are switching between his language and another. Fear seeps into his mind but he pushes it away. The heroes in the books he's read never do well by acting afraid. He can't do it either.

The backs of his eyelids are painted with the picture of Mariella's blood dripping down the wall. It hurts him so deeply that he can only note when it isn't there. Rain taps on the truck. The men fall silent. The road turns smooth and then the engine echoes. A tunnel. They are passing through the mountains.

The truck stops and by then soldiers with them are sober and stiff. There are six of them and each one of them has a long gun in his hand. Landon helps him to his feet when they call them out. Although he's wobbly and his stomach heaves, he's sure it is from disuse and nerves. His shoes scuff on the floor. Landon's hands end up on each shoulder, controlling and steady. He marches him forward with his own hands awkwardly in front of him.

He doesn't realize how safe the back of the truck has been until he has to leave it. He stumbles, stops at the bright ceiling lights and hesitates at the steps leading down.

"Come on, kid. This isn't your grand entrance," the biggest of the guys shouts below him.

Sephiroth hates himself for looking up Landon for guidance. The man is not someone who he can trust. He shouldn't do it but years of habit force him. Landon nods and smiles at him.

He carefully takes steps from the truck. He's never seen a garage but he knows one when he sees it. Space stretches out in both directions and cars are lined up neatly. It feels as big as Nibelheim. One truck even has a Shinra logo on it. It must be for spies. The main door is closed. He didn't even get to see the sun. His throat clenches. The soldiers mingle around, not paying attention to him. Other groups work on the machines but take no notice of him. Doors dot the back of the garage.

One of them has to lead out.

"No. I've seen that look too many times scrawny," The big guy growls at him. Sephiroth takes a step back and bumps into Landon. He hasn't talked. He hasn't felt like talking. There is nothing to say to these people. The guy roots around in his pocket. His hands are as big as Sephiroth's waist.

"I've got him," Landon says.

"You've got shit. He runs, he'll run fast and I'll let you tell the boss why he's gunned down and bleeding."

Gunned down. Now he wants to get out more. Guns are everywhere here. They stick out behind backs and hang loose in fingers. The ringing returns in his ears without him remembering the rest. Mariella hadn't even had the chance to get up before she was gone from his world.

Big guy finds what he's looking for. With a jerk, he yanks open a black bag and Sephiroth takes a second too long to realize what is going to happen next. The bag makes it over his head and he yells in panic at the darkness. He nearly knocks over Landon as he stumbles back. His bound hands come up to rip it off and the big man slaps them away. They go numb immediately from the hit and he hunches over, trying to find his balance.

"Try again and I'll punch you in the gut. Don't get clever," Big guy says and grasps the cuffs. The bag smells like sweat. Sephiroth jerks back and sneezes. His hands come up to cover his face. That is his first real mistake.

The punch hits right under the ribs. It digs deep enough that things shift inside him. It's the first time he's been hit on purpose. It shatters something in him. People aren't supposed to do that. They can't just hurt others. The pain rings in his ears. His knees hit the concrete. He gags into the cloth. He curls forward in on his stomach.

People can hurt him, he realizes with a gasp, and by the breath of satisfaction above him, they like it.

"Learned your lesson, you little shit?"

Sephiroth's mind spins. Fingers clamp on his handcuffs and pull him up and forward. Landon's presence feels distant behind him. He stumbles forward in the dark. He fights to keep together in pain's haziness.

They take stairs. They take elevators. The halls echo. They don't. There is carpet underfoot. Wood follows and then tile. He tries to keep count of how many dings and flights they take. It is impossible because he missed the first few and then it is pointless. The skin under his chest bruises and stings. Landon is behind him if that is any sort of comfort. It isn't but his mind is trying to focus on anything familiar.

A door opens and Sephiroth stumbles through it. It is the thirty-fourth door. It means nothing more than the thirty-third one. In this case, he's wrong. Big guy stops him. Sephiroth raises his head. They stop for elevators and clattering feet by. Neither one of these things has happened.

The door shuts and a hand grasps the cloth. It rips off and the light shocks him. He twists back as far as he can blinking.

Big guy huffs as he leaves him and walks to a table. Sephiroth dares to look around. The room is utilitarian. It's a small white room lined with metal tables. A chair sits oddly in the middle. It smells bleach and fake lemons. The lights give everything a green hue. It looks old and unused. Dirt hides in the corners. The mansion was always kept so neat that seeing this makes Sephiroth ache more.

He looks behind him. Landon is gone. The door is locked. It's him and the big guy. He wonders how long he's been alone. Sephiroth takes an uncertain step to the left. He's not sure what is wanted with him. He's just a kid living in Nibelheim that Shinra has been taking care of. He's nothing special.

His knees shake but something new is coming over him. It is a numbness and seeks out concepts that his fragmented mind can comprehend. What is Wutai going to do to him? That's the most urgent question. At the mansion, he's always known what's wanted of him. Life is a structured affair. Now that is gone. The ice in his mind crackles. Sephiroth blinks away tears.

These are the new people, he reminds himself, if he doesn't do exactly what he is told, he will be dead on the floor. Part of him even wishes for Landon then.

The big guy grabs a metal tray with wires on it and points to the chair. "Sit there."

The calmness slips away from him. Sephiroth steps back. His teeth chatter together. It is unreal. He shouldn't be here. He should be at home. He wants Charlie. He wants everything that he has always assumed that he is going to have. He doesn't want this. A sob rises up his throat. This isn't fair.

"Do you want to get punched again? Get in that chair." The guard walks forward. The gun swings over his shoulder. It sends a new wave of fear through him that he didn't know he could comprehend.

Sephiroth shuffles forward. The man is twice his weight and doesn't have any hesitation about using any of it. When Sephiroth comes close enough, he reaches forward and snatches his arm. Sephiroth yelps as he is dragged. He hits the chair seat hard. It bites into his spine. The metal legs squeak against the tile.

"Stay still."

Sephiroth freezes. Tears roll down his cheeks. Only the top of his chest moves faintly. The big man crouches down in front of him. He sees everything about him at once. There is a spot on his cheek that he missed shaving. His nails are cropped short. A smell of sweat and dirt comes between them. The waves of muscles that move under his shirt.

The man's face turns to concentration. His hand comes close to his waist. Sephiroth swallows and presses back against the chair. He brings up his hands close to protect his neck and face.

"I said stay still," he growls and pulls up Sephiroth's shirt. The pale skin shines strangely in the light. Goosebumps immediately form.

"Hold this." He brings the fabric up to Sephiroth's hands. He does what he is told. Metal feels like it is clamping across his chest. He can't breathe.

The tray comes on his legs, making him jump. Big guy gives him a warning glare. His eyes can't believe what is on it. He recognizes the colored wires and the electrodes. These are things that Mariella and Landon would put on him on occasion. His fingers still shake the fabric as the man starts to do something he understands. Spots of his skin are cleaned and then the tape sticks the wires to him. They're cold but not alien to him. Panic appears and Sephiroth tries to send it away.

When the man leans back, he holds the wires snaking over his body in one hand.

"Drop the shirt. Come on. You've got an appointment."

A new wave of tension crashes over him. It shuts all emotions down again. He can't stand it. It's too overwhelming. It's simply too much.

Gingerly, his body moves without him, slipping out of the chair and following the easiest path. He's exhausted, he realizes. He hiccups as his mind throws Mariella back at him. His chin hits his collarbone as he bites the inside of his cheek. The memory weighs him down. This is just beginning. Whatever his life is going to be now, it is going to be like this. He stares at the multicolored wires pulling out from the bottom of his shirt.

The grief and pain threaten to overwhelm him.

There is no point for this, his practical mind says clearly then, it is time to conserve what you can. Everything hurts too much. He divides himself, splitting it down the middle. The deadness on one side and everything shaking on the other. The emotions, he compacts and shoves down deep. The dullness takes over. It makes him feel solid and safer. They can't hurt what he can't feel.

The door opens to another smaller room. Sephiroth catalogs what is in it. A table sits in the center. Two men, both scientists, sit on one side. One man has papers spread before him and the other has a laptop. A camera perches between them. Neither one looks up at him. On the other side is a single chair and a small box that Sephiroth recognizes. A smaller seat sits in the corner.

He doesn't fight as he is set in the chair. The big guy plugs the wires into the receivers. He wants to push back but the threat of the gun on the big guy's shoulder is too real. He's almost died once. He's not going to do that again today. Tears still roll over his face but he can't feel why anymore. He stares at his fingers and locks them together. He sees a smudge of blood on his knuckle. He swallows.

The soldier pauses to look up at the scientists after all the wires are attached. A green light flashes on the computer screen.

"Hands."

Sephiroth offers the cuffs. The man produces a plastic tab and swipes it over a sensor. It chirps and they release. The end of ache and weight makes him close his eyes. These are the little things. He should concentrate on that. He lets his hands fall into his lap.

"Think carefully here," Big guy mutters in his ear and steps back. Sephiroth doesn't breathe until the chair in the corner squeals.

"We want to start with your name. Please state it for the record."

Sephiroth takes a deep breath. Emotions break up through his walls and he swallows them back down. His knuckles tighten to white.

"Your name."

They're testing him for something. He tries to pretend that this is no different than before. He imagines that the cold voice from across the room is Mariella's. That this is a checkup or an interview. He thinks about Charlie sitting at his feet, trying to chew on his shoelaces. His heart can't believe it. A flash of hurt comes up in him and his chin dips down. Hair falls over half his face. Mariella isn't here to brush it away like she used to.

"Answer the question," Big guy growls behind him.

Sephiroth closes his eyes. He shivers. To live from now on, he probably has to do the best he can.

That life before is already distant. Sephiroth focuses on a scratch on the table's surface dully. The camera lens digs into him, burning his face on a film.

He realizes he was mistaken, he has died today. The boy he was had died on that couch.

"Sephiroth," he whispers and then tries again clearer, "My name is Sephiroth."

He tries to disconnect from all of it.

Mentally, he runs away.

He feels every impact as he flees from this room.

All he can do is to keep running and hiding himself.

So he does that.

Well, I bet you didn't see that coming. Thoughts?

Thank you for reading as always. - Quin