Chapter 67 - Taking Accountability
October, 1995
The rest of the week confirms his assumptions.
The other Firsts don't track him down after the dogs leave. The apartment is shockingly quiet. The bed is missing something. It is harder to go to sleep. It is harder to get up. Opening the front door becomes a disappointment when there is no one behind it. Everything stays in place. The pillows that Charlie liked to knock off his couch stay in their rightful place.
He finds himself falling back into the routine before, the paperwork doubling and tripling on his table and the hours dragging back to impossible lengths. There is no longer a justifiable reason to come back sooner. Audiobooks fill up the empty spaces. The muscles tighten inside him. Exercise rarely straightens them.
He still sees Angeal at the gym but Sephiroth doesn't stop running on the treadmill for him. Angeal stops him once and Sephiroth stands back, cold, cutting him off, making it easy, simply saying that the dogs are gone. He leaves because it is easier for him.
Sephiroth doesn't look back to see how he responds.
Angeal's voice doesn't follow him. There are no footsteps. That's enough of an answer for him. They were using him.
The apartment is dead on a Saturday morning. The dogs are usually climbing on him, demanding their walks. Instead all he can see is the empty portion of the living room where the crates used to be. He needs to move the furniture back. These days, he finds himself with time having skipped forward unexplainable. A moment detached from a moment. It happens more often than he cares to admit. He will be working towards a goal and then the next moment he finds himself sitting watching a fur ball make its way across his floor.
The time lost between his fingers.
It raises frustration in him. He needs to stop the fight in him. The longing for something else is unnecessary. This is the life he had before. He should accept it. It did not cause him pain.
He was happy before.
Well, he doesn't recall being unhappy.
That should be sufficient until he makes it back to the front.
That was the goal, was it not?
The dogs were only a distraction in the end.
The fur ball floats as the air kicks on.
Someone is knocking at his door.
Time has passed again. He is still sitting on his couch. Sephiroth checks his phone. The time on the screen jabs into him. Thirty minutes gone. He swallows. The knock comes again. The screen shows no messages. There is no emergency. Why would Shinra send someone to his door otherwise?
The knocking turns into pounding, a fist hitting the same spot until it vibrates in his ribcage. His knees ache as he gets up. The belt with Masamune hangs in his coat closet. He could get it if he wanted but there is no need. If this was a threat, there are several other ways to handle it.
He is the "Demon of Wutai" for a reason.
Even if Wutai did not kill him when they had the chance.
He presses his tongue against the top of his mouth until the sourness recedes.
The door continues to pound.
He did not expect Genesis Rhapsodos to be on the other side.
Not only is he there but he pushes past him into his apartment. The SOLDIER swings into the kitchen, looking around without addressing Sephiroth. He evaluates the empty countertops and the blank walls. His shoes click against the tile. Sephiroth never bothered with rugs or kitchen decorations. He is barely here. Genesis keeps walking, invading as if he is at home.
Sephiroth stands frozen, door still in his fingers. It is exposing.
No one has ever been here besides him and the dogs.
Now Genesis Rhapsodos must be added to that list.
"So this is how you live," Genesis mutters and turns back to him. "We're going out for breakfast. The food is good and they let us hide in the back. No PR. No bullshit. Just us. Come on."
A challenge is in his eyes. He knows that he is not supposed to be here. He's standing there anyways.
"I have eaten and I did not invite you in." Sephiroth opens the door wider. Something catches his eye out in the hall. Angeal stands with his smile and empathic eyes.
Panic curls up but Sephiroth tamps it down before it reaches his face. They have him cornered. He cannot close the door with Genesis in here and he cannot leave with Angeal out there. He should be mad. They have pinned him in place but instead the strain from this week leaves him without the usual bite.
"So? Get coffee and a muffin." Genesis waves a hand at him and flips open one of the files on his dining room table. He scans the charts and notes in his handwriting.
"Those are confidential files."
Genesis' eyes snap up to his and he tosses the file shut.
"I thought you were boring but not this boring." Genesis blows out a breath. "Come on. The car is waiting. It's like a showroom here. Get your shoes. Where are they?"
He keeps doing things, moving like a fish in water, making it impossible for Sephiroth to pin him down and shove him out the door.
"Why are you here?"
Genesis traces the neatly lined up remotes that Sephiroth has never touched. "Well, I'll explain it on the way. I've already made the reservation. They are nice to us but not that nice. Where do you keep your shoes? You look presentable enough."
He starts walking towards the only closed door, the door to his bedroom.
"Genesis Rhapsodos." Sephiroth drops the usual register of his voice into the deep tone of a commanding officer sending out one last warning to a misbehaving officer.
Genesis stops in his tracks, twists and meets his eyes. They stand facing each other. Sephiroth does not back down. He does not show how gutting to see Genesis in this space. The apartment is his. It holds everything about him within the blank walls. It has seen him in states the world is not allowed to know. This space is a buffer from the outside world. A buffer that Genesis has just waltzed through like he owns another part of his life.
He does not.
So Sephiroth stands straighter and takes the strength that everyone sees in him. It fills him like an illusion. Genesis' eyes flick around him, automatically categorizing the threat of a superior officer. Sephiroth walks starting to close the distance. Enough of this, he will physically throw him out. He will slam the door on this unreasonable intrusion. They are not allowed. He will not allow them in here. They are not supposed to be here. Genesis is a willful child who needs to know his place.
He stops a few feet away. The reward is Genesis' foot slipping back and the muscles in his neck flaring in his neck.
Sephiroth talks low as he closes in. "I no longer possess the dogs. There is no point to this. You have used me to your own ends but do not make a charade of continuing for appearances. I will politely ask you to leave one more time."
Genesis blinks. The fear transforms. He laughs. He's leaning over and laughing in Sephiroth's face. It's Sephiroth that feels ridiculous and unsure how to even stand. And once again, like the many other times in Sephiroth's life, he doesn't know what to do with this man.
"You are something. Oh the tragedy, we know," Genesis says, catching his breath, rubbing his eyes and straightening, "and you've been moping all week about it. Come on. You aren't going to do it so we're going to cheer you up."
Sephiroth's words jam up in his throat.
Has it been that obvious? And why would these two care? They are just other employees that work for the same company as him. There is no point in trying to impress him. There is no higher position besides his and that would only be reassigned on his death. Neither of these men, even together, could kill him. Regardless, they have no motive. He is nothing outside the function of First Class.
Why are they doing this if there is no reward?
"Sephiroth." Angeal hasn't come in but he does stand at the threshold, holding the door open with his foot. He sounds softer than usual. "You don't have to admit anything. Genesis is just…overenthusiastic."
"I am not. He has been moping like a kicked dog-"
Sephiroth ignores Genesis and holds Angeal's eyeline. "Our time has concluded."
"You are so stubborn," Genesis whispers too loudly to be anything other than the insult it is supposed to be.
Angeal sighs and stays where he is. "We loved Charlie and Yuki but they were a means to an end. Come on, Sephiroth, let's get breakfast. Genesis, why don't you run down and make sure that car hasn't gone anywhere?"
A means to an end.
"It hasn't," Genesis says.
It wasn't about the dogs.
"Go check and also call Samantha and tell her we are running late, I'll wait here for Sephiroth."
They weren't paying attention to just the animals.
Genesis glares at Sephiroth. "I don't like being hung out to dry."
Then he's out, blowing past Angeal and muttering threats of burning down all of Midgar. The apartment is immediately empty without him.
It was about Sephiroth, he realizes, not the dogs.
The elevator chiming and closing brings him closer back to reality. He is standing in his kitchen with his hands slack by his sides. He blinks and shifts trying to bring himself back. It half works. The rest of him tries to put the pieces together, to shift his perspective to understand that these two men weren't just reliving part of their childhood.
"He means well," Angeal says, "Can I come in?"
Angeal stands and waits until Sephiroth forces himself to nod.
The door closes but Angeal doesn't approach. He leans in the entryway. Everything about him is a practical causal from the way he stands to the set of his face.
"Despite Genesis' attitude, we would both like you to come to breakfast." The words are honest. His smile is warm. Sephiroth's stomach jerks.
"I…"
He remembers all the men that have died in battle. There is no point in getting close to him. The war will take everything away. If not from him, it will be Sephiroth from them. Going to Wutai will be a one way ticket. He never wants to be trapped like this again.
But they have not sent him and the war has stagnated. Even looking around Midgar, no one could guess that they were at war at all. People live without worries. Every restriction is gone. The store shelves are stocked again. All of his life before could be one terrible dream. The illusion of a life that was not lived well. Even the memories are a hazy mess of shocking numbness and blood. He could dismiss it and move it on.
That is an impossibility. The scars lace him, invisible but tight.
What is the point of getting close to him? Don't they understand just how broken he is under the surface?
He never finishes his sentence to Angeal.
Angeal ignores it and moves forward a few feet. "We've both enjoyed getting to know you. I think that's mutual, right?"
"Yes." It drops out of him quickly and without thought. It is true but Sephiroth is off balance. None of this is controlled. None of this was his decision. He has slipped into another trap. He is leaving his emotions in the hands of others. They have all hurt him. Every single person. They've all dug knives in him when they could, no matter how gentle the intention.
"Come as our friend, Sephiroth," Angeal says as if it is that simple.
Sephiroth hesitates. This is wrong, a mistake, worse than spilling back into emptiness. He is not worth being friends with. Angeal's eyes skate over him, pulling every sign of discomfort from him. Sephiroth wants to step away, to not allow this to happen, to not know that his resolve is breaking. The open fall into life before is even more terrifying than standing here.
"I am not your childhood hero. I am not that man."
"We aren't looking for him."
Sephiroth's voice disappears in him.
Angeal smiles again, "I'll wait for you. Outside. Don't forget your wallet." He stops, thinks, fights something in him but those words die on his tongue. Angeal lets himself out. The door closes. Sephiroth is alone again.
He drops his eyes to the floor, trying to convince himself to say no. It scares him. He's not had companions for so long. He doesn't remember how they work. Perhaps he has never even had true ones. He will ruin it. He will say and do the wrong thing. He will only hurt himself. He will turn the other Firsts against him and still have to work with them. They will become more mistakes for him to carry on his back. They would be more salt in the wounds that have never healed.
The fur ball on the floor catches his attention.
He's damaged enough. What difference will a few more scars be?
Something stirs deep in him. He ignores it. There is no hope needed. This is weakness again. This is one step away from everything he knows. This is one more step towards the end. The emotion in him stays, compacting and becoming unmovable. His chin drops.
He'll let it be then.
There is no reason to waste the energy in fighting it.
He turns to get his shoes and his wallet.