A/N:
The chapter title was supposed to be Genesis and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Hospital Stay, but that went over Fanfiction's character limit.
This chapter may be a little bit confusing at first, but that's intentional. Hopefully it's more understandable the further you get, but if not, that's ok, I'm happy to explain things if need be :)
Also, a trigger warning is below. If you don't think you're likely to be triggered and don't want any spoilers, feel free to skip it.
- WARNING -
There will be brief mentions of depression, grief over the loss of a loved one, feelings of little/no self-worth, and quite a bit of angst in this chapter. In addition, one character at one point will also give up on living. They won't try to commit suicide, but they won't care if they actually do die. If this is something that may affect you, please take caution while reading this chapter.
Click.
Goddess, no!
He has to…! Has to… Has to… do something, doesn't he…? Has to… what was it again…? Be a hero…? Prove himself…? No… that doesn't sound quite right… Save somebody…? Hold them tight… and never let go…? Possibly… But who…? Who did he want to see again…? Who did he crave to touch again…? He can't… can't remember… Can't see them… Can't see anything… except for this fathomless black… This bottomless void… he's found himself in…
Why does that… seem so wrong…? Why does that… tug at his heartstrings so…? Why is he absolutely positive… that he should be surrounded by… the most stunning azure blue… interlaced with breathtaking emerald green…? Or even… soft dandelion yellow…
Whoever this person was… they were important… weren't they…?
Treasured…
Precious…
Weren't they…?
.
.
.
But, wait…
Who in the Goddess was he himself…?
"Commander!"
Yes… He was called that once… wasn't he…? Commander… ugh… what was it they called him…? Commander… Drama King…? Commander… Light Your… Ass on Fire…? No… that's not it… Commander… Rap… Rapturous…? Maybe…? But who… who had called him that…? Two… Two rookies…? Ones he had… only taken with him… because they were too dense… Too dense to ask any questions… Too gullible… to go whining to… to… to somebody… Had only taken them with him… because he needed… needed to get out of that Tower… Needed to go kill… kill… kill what…?
Goddess, he's so tired…
.
.
.
Those damn monsters!
He'll…! He'll kill…! Kill every last… one of them…
"He's very weak, sir. He needs rest."
Genesis's eyes fly open, the rage already simmering inside him building at the implication that he was some frail little thing. Building like a crescendo from the smoldering embers of whatever damn monsters he needed to cull. right. now. into a raging inferno. Until even the pit of hell would feel frosty in comparison. Until the flames licking at his body burn away the blackness restraining him, suffocating him.
How dare these fools think that he required assistance. How dare they presume that he, Genesis Rhapsodos, Deadly Mage of Shinra, was some sort of useless invalid. He might not be a hero yet like Sephiroth, but how dare they treat him thusly.
They would learn, though. He would show them.
And he turns to do just that, the words "I beg your pardon" running tantalizingly across the tip of his tongue as he waits the several (totally reasonable) seconds needed for his blurry vision to focus. And then he blinks. And blinks again, his (righteous) indignation slipping away as he surveys his unexpected surroundings.
A heady twining of blue, green, and yellow should have greeted him, he's sure. Should have granted him the penance he so thoroughly yearned for, even if in this moment, he didn't entirely understand why. What he's left with, though, are the disappointingly familiar hues of walnut and crimson of his office back in the Tower.
He's positive something is off, and yet, even as his eyes flit about the room, he can't find anything out of the ordinary. Everything looks exactly the same as he had left it. The same frustrating ivory of the unfinished paperwork strewn in an almost fashionable arc across his desk. The same comfortable alabaster of his 1st edition copy of Loveless, strategically placed for easy access. And the same nauseating forest green of the aloe vera plant Angeal had forced on him because of his penchant for 'fiery outbursts'. The same one Genesis had tucked away in the furthest corner of the room as soon as Angeal had left, entirely intent on leaving it there to die. Why he had agreed to take it in the first place, or even how he had managed to croak out "Seems… useful" without gagging was beyond him. But Angeal's enthusiasm the next morning when he had realized the plant was still there had almost been worth it.
Almost.
He still swears if he sees even a single bug, he'll burn the entire Goddess-damn Tower to the ground, Angeal's pleas to don't do anything… rash until I get back be damned.
Genesis wrinkles his nose distastefully at the still-flourishing plant – either Angeal had chosen something that could be severely neglected or he was sneaking into Genesis's office after-hours to care for it, and Genesis can't decide which he hates more. "Disgusting," he finally settles for, realizing he wouldn't be free of the potted filth without some manner of willful sabotage – something that Angeal was sure to notice… and complain about.
With one last disdainful sniff directed at the plant (and the discovery that Angeal had outwitted him this time), Genesis returns his attention to the more important matter at hand – somebody thought him weak. That was far more inexcusable than his mate getting the better of him for the first time in years. The latter might rankle at his nerves, more than just a little bit, but Angeal sure did have quite the gift for earning his forgiveness, especially since he was just as wonderfully thick as his beloved sword.
Shaking his head to dispel the images of Angeal's fingers digging oh-so-possessively into his more slender waist (and to ease the phantom ache in his side – Angeal wouldn't cling to him that hard), Genesis strains his ears for any sign of the feminine voice that had belittled him earlier. The one that had sounded so close, that Genesis is a little surprised to find himself all alone in his office here. Perhaps whoever it was was waiting just on the other side of the door. It really wouldn't surprise him – it wouldn't be the first time he had been tailed by the Turks – but it would still be a shame. He guesses his last threat of burning a new tattoo into Reno's face hadn't been deterrent enough.
But he'll just have to take it up a notch then. They didn't honestly believe he would be more tolerant of a female Turk, did they?
Well, they would have their answer soon enough.
He goes to push himself up and rake whoever it was over the coals – figuratively, of course, even if he did plan to lob a strategically-aimed Firaga at their feet to get his message across – but his body has never felt so heavy before in his life. Has never felt so unwieldy before in his life. And instead, he finds himself almost rooted in place, his mouth opening of its own accord, "The next time you knock on that door, Zackary, I really will light your ass on fire. Do. not. tempt. me."
What in the Goddess's name was going on? He hadn't heard anybody knocking, much less the tell-tale sound of Zack bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. So why was he so upset? Why would he forego his due recompense for being so thoroughly insulted when he couldn't even remember what it was that the Puppy had actually done?
But that's as far as he gets. As far as he gets in his surprising defense of his childish soulmate before the memories start to flood back in. Before his breath rumbles deep and low in his throat and his eyes flash hotter than the blazing sun. Zackary. That's right. It was all that idiot's fault. If it wasn't for Zackary and his obsessive need to prove himself – he doesn't have the good grace to admit that that phrase has been directed at him before – then Genesis wouldn't be in this disgusting mess in the first place. He wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath of his time spent as a Malboro's fucking plaything.
"Are you ignoring me on purpose?" Genesis starts anew, doubly angry at the sight of his office door opening without his consent and at the realization it had happened without his hearing it (he might have considered seeing a doctor about his selective hearing if his pride wasn't already on the line). "I swear to the Goddess, Zackary – " But his words die on his lips when a diminutive trooper (and not an oversized Puppy) steps into the room and silently closes the door behind them. "You're not Zack…"
The intruder doesn't answer, doesn't so much as salute (as would be proper), but rather stalks Genesis's way with all the grace and intensity of a full-grown Tonberry.
Ugh. Who does this player think he is?
"I know you troopers have a hard time following orders, but I never realized that your ears were only there for decoration." The little trooper comes to a stop right before Genesis's desk, his mouth pulling into a thin line beneath that helmet of his. Was he upset? Yeah, well, so was Genesis. "Here, I'll make it easy for you – I am in no mood to be playing host right now."
"Tough."
Genesis's heart stutters to a stop at that familiar country lilt, the ache in his side twinging uncomfortably. "Little bird?"
"Wow," the little trooper – his little trooper – drawls, plucking the helmet easily from his head and running his free hand reflexively through those drooping spikes of his. Genesis just wants to cry. "You must really be angry if it took you this long to recognize me."
"What are you…?" Genesis feels entirely entranced by the man in front of him, something that doesn't at all sit right with the small twisting of irritation growing in him. "Wait. Zack sent you, didn't he?"
"He did," Cloud admits, dropping onto the edge of Genesis's desk with a small flourish (something he had obviously picked up from all those times Genesis had forced him to play-act with him). "He even promised to get me out of patrol if I did. Apparently, I'm the only one you won't kill right now."
Genesis rolls his eyes – Zackary was so dramatic. "Did he even tell you what he did?"
"He was trying to impress you."
"I have scrubbed myself clean 5 times now and still smell like a Behemoth's wet ass because of him," Genesis growls, the thought alone pissing him off more than it probably had reason to.
But whatever it was Genesis was expecting, whatever it was he was silently praying for, Cloud hopping down from the desk only to press his nose into the crook of Genesis's neck certainly wasn't it. "Hmm," Cloud breathes, the sound rumbling all the way to Genesis's core, his previously hollow body filling with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long, long time. "You just smell like apples to me."
"H-Huh?" Genesis ever-so-elegantly provides, too stunned to do anything but watch as Cloud leans back against the desk, a small, enigmatic smile on his face.
"Banora White, to be exact."
The noise Genesis makes in response can only be described as a breathy rasp, his entire being shamelessly devoted to the ethereal creature in front of him. Goddess, he had known this… this angel since the boy was 16. Had known of him for far longer than that – how could he not when he was all Zack ever talked about? The Puppy's puppy, he had dubbed him, with no small amount of scorn. But all it had taken was the boy saving Sephiroth's life for Genesis to fall, hard and fast. To find himself dreadfully head over heels for the unassuming trooper, as cliched and hated as that phrase was.
And now. Now, he can say, with all certainty, that he had never loved this boy – this man – more than he did right this moment.
He was absolutely besotted.
"I suppose…" Genesis wets his lips. "I suppose I could be, uh… persuaded to let Zackary's folly slide."
Cloud's answering smile is one Genesis loves more than Loveless itself – and wasn't that quite the declaration of how hopelessly enamored he was? "That's good to hear. Believe it or not, I'm actually quite fond of the bumbling oaf."
"You've got the bumbling part right…" Genesis grumbles half-heartedly, encouraged by the slight, amused quirk to Cloud's mouth. "Did he tell you he was planning to let that Malboro swallow him whole so he could carve his way out?" He can't help himself, really he can't, his voice rising dramatically in volume and pitch (Zackary really would be the death of him one day). "Just like on that drivel of a TV show the two of you love to watch?"
"Chocobo Heroes, yes, I know." Cloud rests heavily against the desk behind him, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "For what it's worth, I already told Zack he's an idiot."
Beep.
Genesis blinks and is altogether assaulted by blinding white light, the ache in his side sharpening into the most excruciating pain. He blinks and finds his world inverted, shadowy figures looming above him as he struggles against the vertigo and the agony in his side, his heart, his everywhere – agony that threatens to drag him under, and keep him there.
"Genesis…"
A hand runs slowly, longingly, through his hair.
Genesis blinks and that's it. He blinks and, far too fast for him to fully comprehend, the glaring white and murky black dissolve, returning him to the gentle confines of his office. The distorted noises and stabbing pain fade back into the ether, leaving him blessedly clear-headed in front of Cloud again.
He tries to apologize – a real apology, too, and not the insincere little things he offers the others after he's been particularly 'difficult', in their words ('right', in his) – but Cloud hasn't noticed. Hasn't realized what a terrible host Genesis is being, the younger man staring off to the side, his teeth worrying his bottom lip.
And, oh, how Genesis wants to bite that lip himself. How he yearns to nip and tug at it until the blood has rushed entirely to Cloud's cheeks (and further south, of course). Goddess, how long had it been since he had gotten any? He certainly hadn't put out with Zack after that little stunt of his. Though, he supposes if Cloud asked prettily enough, he could be convinced to let the Puppy join them. It had been forever since they had all done something fun together, after all.
But Cloud doesn't notice his preoccupation, the man sighing instead – a faint and barely-there sound, something that Genesis wouldn't have noticed if he were unenhanced, and something Cloud probably didn't even realize had happened.
Genesis notices.
He realizes.
And he studies the flaxen-haired youth in front of him intently.
Sometime between their earlier banter and Genesis's undetected episode, Cloud had pushed himself up to sit fully on top of Genesis's desk. Not before tidying up all the reports and Genesis's copy of Loveless first, of course, and placing them on one side of the desk, his helmet on the other, so as not to ruin anything. And, really, it's the little things like this – Cloud's attention to detail, his quiet consideration – that just draws Genesis in deeper. That just makes him want to reward Cloud all the more for being so thoughtful.
But Genesis is a grown man, and is perfectly capable of ignoring the heat coiling throughout his otherwise empty-feeling body. He's a mature adult, thank you, and is 100% able to convince himself to just shift subtly in his chair, all thoughts of what he would do to his lovely blond given the chance moved to the back burner.
For while Cloud swings his legs almost casually in front of him – something that looks terribly childish, but surprisingly fun all the same – Genesis doesn't miss the solemnity in the air. Doesn't miss how quiet Cloud has gotten, far more quiet than was normal for him.
Genesis wasn't having any of that.
"Apple for your thoughts?"
Cloud turns back around, his brow scrunched up rather endearingly. "It's gil, not apple…?" He says, a slight rise to his voice like he was afraid of being wrong.
And Genesis can't deny the slight prickling of jealousy – Cloud never acted so hesitant around the Puppy – but he swallows it down, and sends a saucy wink Cloud's way. "Not when I like apples better, it's not."
A giggle is his reward, a sound that Cloud would probably be mortified by if Genesis brought it up, but a sound that he would gladly take to his grave all the same. But when Cloud doesn't otherwise respond, Genesis shifts his chair closer – he does not scoot – and taps a perfectly manicured finger against Cloud's forehead. "Now, what's running through that pretty little head of yours?"
Cloud scowls and swats his hand away – a reaction Genesis wasn't exactly going for, though he can't say he doesn't love riling his youngest soulmate up either. "I'm not little."
"Of course not – " Genesis bites his tongue to keep from saying little bird, but from the way Cloud rolls his eyes, he's convinced he heard it anyway – "Cloud. I would never dream of it. I merely wish to help."
"…You're not really mad at Zack."
From the surprise on Cloud's face, Genesis can tell that he hadn't meant to say that. At least not so easily, not without a lot more needling on Genesis's part. But Genesis is far too stunned himself to put that to words. "Oh? I'm not?" He opts for instead, because that certainly was news to him.
Cloud clenches his jaw and curls a hand into the leg of his trooper fatigues. "You were already… in a bad mood – " Genesis raises an eyebrow at the unspoken moody – "before you and Zack even left for your mission. I figured something else must be bothering you." The words cause another Firaga-hot pang of bitterness to course through him, and not because of Cloud and Zack this time. "Do you… Do you want to talk about it?"
"What can you do about it?" Genesis snaps.
And then his face falls, much like Cloud's. "I didn't…" He rises hastily from his chair, throwing out an arm to halt Cloud's attempted retreat. Draws the man to him, focusing on the tension there rather than the sound of Cloud's helmet clattering across the floor. "Please, little bird, I didn't mean it," he vows, cradling Cloud's face between his hands – the same face that has been haunting his dreams for so very long now – and wincing at the way those brilliant azure eyes shutter completely over (no wonder Cloud was so cautious around him, when he was so terrible to him). "You make things so much better, little one, I swear it. You're the dew that quenches my thirst. The sun that lights my way. The succor that keeps me going. I would be so lost without you – "
" – You're being overdramatic again – "
" – Please, Cloud. Find it in your heart to forgive me. I don't deserve it, Goddess knows I'm just a crotchety old man, but I would grovel til the end of time if you could just – "
"Genesis!"
Genesis's mouth clicks shut at the admonition, and he just stands there staring, in complete shock, at the vision in front of him. At least until his mind catches up to his mouth. "I'm sorry – " and he means it, so very much – "It's not your fault, little bird. My soul is just corrupted by vengeance."
"Corrupted by…?" Cloud's face crinkles adorably in confusion at first, but then realization dawns in those still-wary eyes and he sighs heavily. "Sephiroth?"
Genesis doesn't mean to frown, or furrow his brows, really, but apparently he can control his face about as well as his mouth. Which is to say not at all. "It's nothing." The lie feels grating even to his own ears, and he lets his eyes wander across the room lest they give him away too.
What he doesn't account for, though, is his rather visceral reaction when his eyes land on the bookcase in his office. More specifically, when they land on the small, bright yellow Chocobo plush sitting almost at attention on the topmost shelf. The thing usually made him smile, even though Zack was the one who had gifted it to him, but now? Now it, and the tiny sage green scarf Zack had draped around the toy's neck, nearly makes him heave.
Beep.
"He may be disoriented when he wakes up, but with the medication he's on, that's perfectly normal."
"Can I get a list of everything he's taking?"
"Of course, sir."
What in Gaia's name is going on? What the hell are those voices and why does everything hurt?
"You didn't lash out at me over nothing." Genesis's attention snaps back to Cloud, the bite in the younger man's tone incentive enough to forget about everything else. He wants to disagree – pure habit, really, though he honestly is fine – but as far as looks go, the one Cloud gives him now would certainly kill a lesser man, or at least make him spontaneously combust (and, wow, that must be another thing Genesis had accidentally taught him). "Something is obviously bothering you. I can tell."
He's right, of course he is. But Genesis can't bring his rivalry into this. Can't taint the image Cloud has of them – of him – because of it. So, Genesis remains tight-lipped, already working up the resolve to breeze through another lie. To claim that he was just tired, or that his side still throbbed from where that Malboro struck him – cause Goddess above, did it throb.
But Cloud has and always will be frighteningly perceptive.
"…You don't think you're good enough."
Genesis makes a garbled noise in shock – one that he will absolutely deny later, but one that's ripped from him all the same by Cloud's startling clarity. How had he known? How could he possibly have known?
"I…" The steel in Cloud's eyes is gone, but the pain that has taken its place is almost too much for Genesis to bear. "I know a thing or two about that."
An awkward grunt is the only thing that manages to make its way past Genesis's lips as he tries, somewhat in vain, to figure out what to say. To figure out the right thing to say to bring that relaxed smile back on Cloud's face. He wants to tell him that he's so much more than he thinks he is, that he's so much stronger than he thinks he is, but he very much doubts Cloud will believe him now. Especially not after Genesis's ill-temper before.
So, instead, he finds himself sighing almost defeatedly. "It's always Sephiroth this and Sephiroth that. It's like nobody else even exists."
"That Midgar Times article?"
The face Genesis makes in response is probably as unflattering as it is very telling. "My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams, no honor remains," he recites bitterly. The article hadn't been the catalyst of his frustrations, but it had been the proverbial needle that broke the Cactuar's back. How else was he supposed to react, though, when it had been his moment to shine, when it had been his kill, Goddess damn it. How else was he supposed to cope with the fact that Sephiroth had arrived a moment too late to be of any actual help in the monster cleanup – probably trying to romance the pants off of Cloud, no doubt – but had still managed to walk away with all the credit, his face (and the words Midgar's Shining Hero) plastered across the front page of every. damn. newspaper. in. the. city. "I don't know why I even bother anymore."
"What happened to even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall my return?"
Genesis feels his mouth go dry at the thought – the reality – that Cloud was reciting Loveless. Voluntarily. For him.
But if anything, he had always been contrary, especially when he was at a loss of what to say. "Does it really matter when everybody thinks that Sephiroth is the only hero in the whole damn world?"
"Not everybody."
"Oh? And who thinks I'm a hero?"
Genesis is sure Cloud will mention some member of Red Leather. Kunsel maybe. Zack possibly.
He doesn't.
"I do."
"W-What?" Genesis chokes out, something he will surely scold himself for later, because he did not just stutter.
"I think you're a hero."
It's said with such surety, such confidence, that all Genesis can do is stare, terribly breathless, for a few moments more. And when he finally manages to wrangle up his voice again, it's small, quiet, almost desperate, as he nearly begs, "Say it again."
"Uh… I think you're a hero?" Cloud starts hesitantly, but squeaks, his face reddening, once he notices the intensity in Genesis's eyes. "I-I think you're all heroes," he hurries to correct himself. "You k-know how I feel about S-SOLDIERs…"
"No, no, little bird. Don't say silly things like we're all heroes. You know I'm a jealous man." Cloud sighs, but the hints of an exasperated smile are tugging at his lips. Genesis can work with that. "I think you meant to say that Sephiroth obviously pales in comparison to me and only a fool would think otherwise."
"You're ridiculous."
The words are fond, even if a bit incredulous, no trace of the earlier bite left. And Genesis is all the more encouraged for it. Reaching out, he lays his hands on Cloud's waist and draws him back towards him, pleased to note that the younger man doesn't try to pull away. "So, what are my… redeeming qualities?"
"Are we really doing this now?" Cloud asks, his exasperation doing little to distract Genesis from the red tint to his ears.
He wants to bite those, too.
"Of course," Genesis says, his thumbs tracing lazy patterns into Cloud's sides. "No need to be shy."
Cloud has no reason to indulge him, Genesis knows, not after his cruelty earlier. But indulge him, he does, even if he sounds incredibly weary doing so. "Uh… you're super strong and have saved so many people?"
"But the same can be said for Sephiroth, too. What is it about me, specifically, that makes me a hero?"
Cloud must hear an inkling of hopelessness in Genesis's voice, because he stops, his brow wrinkled in thought again. He must realize what Genesis wants – needs – to hear, because the next thing he says is, "You're better with magic than Sephiroth."
Genesis still complains. "Sephiroth knows his way around materia, too."
"Not like you, though. Sephiroth just relies on brute force, he doesn't have anywhere near the same control that you do." Genesis almost says Sephiroth doesn't need to rely on control, but Cloud isn't finished. "I mean, you lit a Couerl's eyes – and only its eyes – on fire!"
"It shouldn't have been drooling over you," Genesis grumbles, but Cloud doesn't seem to hear him.
"I just…" Cloud sighs, dreamily this time, and Genesis will not be forgetting the stars in his eyes any time soon. "The way you handle materia is just awe-inspiring."
"So, I'm good at… handling materia?" Genesis raises an eyebrow at the turn of phrase, but Cloud – dear, sweet, innocent Cloud – just nods in agreement.
"Yeah. And you're… you're more fashionable, too."
"Like that's hard." Genesis scoffs. "The guy waltzes around with half his chest on display and calls that chic."
Cloud snorts. "Be nice," he tries to scold, but his quiet snickering gives him away.
"So, materia and fashion. Is that all I've got going for me?"
He knows he's fishing for compliments now, Cloud probably does too, but the dear humors him anyway. "You're more inspiring than Sephiroth."
Genesis's fingers tighten unintentionally, but Cloud doesn't even wince. "What are you talking about? Everybody wants to join SOLDIER because of Sephiroth. You wanted to join SOLDIER because of Sephiroth."
"They join because of Sephiroth, sure, but they stay because of you. I mean, have you heard Sephiroth give a speech? You're obviously the more charismatic one."
"So… what you're saying – " Genesis sounds out his words carefully, heat pooling anew in the pit of his stomach – "is that I'm good with my mouth?"
"Uh… I guess?"
Genesis's smirk is the only warning Cloud has before he's lifted straight off of his feet – "Genesis! What are you doing!?" – and spread out across the desk again, the added weight of Genesis's hands now pinning him down. Luckily, Cloud had already cleaned things up, but Genesis can't say that he would have minded those damn reports being ruined anyway. "I'm good with my mouth and I'm good at handling materia – " Cloud turns a lovely shade of beet red, the innuendo finally catching up to him – "Now, now, little bird. If I didn't know any better, I would think that you were hitting on me."
"That's not what I meant!"
That's what he says, but he still clings to the lapels of Genesis's coat long after he's been set down. Still opens his legs accommodatingly as Genesis leans forward as close as he can – it's a position that should have felt familiar, but Genesis cannot remember for the life of him the last time they had done this.
Certainly time to rectify that.
"I'm sorry for snapping at you, little bird. I was so very wrong." Genesis runs his fingers across the side of Cloud's head, brushing the hair there up and out of his face. "You are perfect in every single way, and I would be lost without you."
He hasn't done anything yet, but Cloud still looks very much overwhelmed already, his eyes wide and vulnerable. "Y-You're… You're full of it," Cloud says, his voice higher-pitched than usual.
"Actually," Genesis drawls, smirking at Cloud and chuckling as the man's eyes only grow wider. "I think I would prefer it if you were full of me."
Cloud chokes on his breath. "Genesis, no. I have patrol in an hour."
"But you said Zack was getting you out of that." He lets his fingers dance tantalizingly over Cloud's pretty, pink lips. "Please, Cloud – " he whispers the name like a prayer – "You've already taken such good care of me. Won't you let me return the favor?"
"I-I…" Cloud sucks in a harsh breath, his eyes searching Genesis's own for the answer to whatever question he was too afraid (or self-conscious) to ask. Probably whether Genesis was sure he wanted him or whether he was really good enough.
Genesis would just have to reassure him.
"Please, little one – " for once Cloud does not scowl at the nickname, but rather trembles with bated breath – "won't you let me bring you to the height of pleasure, like you do for me by merely existing?"
Cloud swallows heavily, and Genesis just hopes his bedroom eyes haven't lost their appeal. "O-O-Okay."
Genesis smiles – a real smile – and leans in to claim his golden prize.
Beep.
And watches in horror as Cloud, and everything else, evaporates right before his eyes.
He tries to do something, to wrap himself around Cloud before the last tendrils of his lovely face, the last wisps of his gilded spikes have completely faded away – he can't do this again. But he's too late. Too slow. Too busy tumbling through the missing desk and into the glaring white once more, the words "I'll find you, little bird!" stuck to the roof of his mouth.
"We'll be just down the hall if you need anything."
"Thank you, miss."
He's sure he thrashes at the sound of the almost-familiar voice. Sure he screams at them to shut the fuck up already, for Goddess's sake – terribly uncultured of him, he knows, but saving Cloud was all that mattered to him right now. All that consumed him right now. But he can't hear anything over the blaring of sirens and the whirring of helicopter blades around him.
Can't feel anything except for the burning in his side and the dread growing in the pit of his stomach.
Beep.
It's the smoke in his nostrils, mixing with the sickening scent of antiseptic, that finally does it for him. That finally has his eyes opening and his vision returning to him once more. And that has a desperate wheezing sound ripping itself straight from his lungs.
"Cloud…" He croaks the name like a plea, Rapier slipping from his slackened grasp.
No, no, no, no, no. This wasn't right. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't. He should be back in the Tower with Genesis, under Genesis, not lying prone here on the ground. Not lying prone with that overly-buxom friend of his cradled in his arms.
"Little bird… please." Genesis crumples to the floor, oblivious to the tremors wracking his body and the moisture leaking from his eyes. "Please…" he repeats, drawing Cloud's (still-warm) body away from the barmaid with a growl – this was her fault – and into his own arms. "Talk to me," he begs, casting Full-Life without a second thought, without a second glance at the blood trickling from the corner of Cloud's mouth, the light missing from his too dull eyes, or the now gaping hole in his chest.
Beep.
"What happened here?"
Angeal? He wants to gasp. I didn't mean for this to happen, he wants to plead, but instead he remains almost fixed in place, hunched over Cloud's cooling form, casting Full-Life for the fourth, fifth… no, sixth time. Instead, he's left with, "He… He said he could handle himself!" And, Goddess, he doesn't remember his voice sounding so sniveling before.
Beep.
"And you believed him?"
It's almost like Angeal is speaking underwater – though, that may have more to do with Genesis's shock than anything – but his angry voice still reverberates around the entire clearing. Something that draws a painful wince from Genesis – he's never heard Angeal like this before. He knows he should turn around, knows he should beg his first love to believe him, even if he can't for the life of him remember when the man had entered the clearing with him – he had stayed behind at the station to help with the rescue efforts there, right? But he can't find it in him to move, to tear his eyes away from Cloud's too small-looking form, even though he knows he might lose Angeal too. "Please, little bird. Just say something. Anything. I promise I won't be mad, even if you say something silly like Loveless is utter rubbish."
Beep.
"Who healed him?"
A flash of white-hot rage sears through Genesis. He hates that voice. That cold, impassive voice. Healed him? Didn't this dimwit have something better to do? Like protect his precious president or mourn the loss of his own soulmate?
"There… There was a man…"
Genesis blinks, and his world is turned upside down again. He blinks, and he's the one bleeding out on the ground. He's the one encased in too-familiar arms, dear, sweet, alive Cloud begging him not to go. Begging him to live, stunning mako-laced eyes gazing back at him from Cloud's dearly-missed face.
Beep.
"Spiky blond hair – " Angeal's voice shakes, and for the first time in his life, Genesis is afraid – "enhanced… named after the sky… Behemoths… Do you think you're being funny?"
"I don't understand," Genesis says. And he really doesn't. Not what Angeal's talking about (though he knows why he's so mad), not how he ended up on his knees and Cloud unresponsive in his arms again, and certainly not why he can't control his own actions, his head not turning to face Angeal, his body still casting Full-Life with whatever dregs of mana he has left. "Why won't this work?"
"C-Commander…?"
Honestly, what was Genesis thinking? What was wrong with him? He only ever called Angeal 'Commander' in bed. Why would he be doing it now when Cloud was… when Cloud was…
Beep.
"Angeal, if I may?" Genesis wants to snarl, wants to tell the Turk to find something better to do with his time – he doesn't need love lessons from a cold fish, especially not one who won't even look at his own soulmate – but he's just so spent. He's just so drained. "Now, gentlemen, where is this man now?"
"Uh… He's gone."
"He left…"
"I see... And when was the last time you saw him?"
What does it matter when Genesis last saw him? What does it matter if he just saw Cloud this morning, just held him this morning? He knows he's gone; he knows he's left – the returning hollowness and the slight sting of betrayal (why would he leave him alone again?) are proof enough of that. And still. And still, he can't help himself. "Please, little one. I promise I'll watch Chocobo Heroes with you and Zack this time. I'll even pretend like I actually like it. Just, please, wake up."
Beep.
"Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all."
"…Sir?"
"You're dismissed."
"Uh… But you're not in charge…"
Damn straight he's not in charge. Who does he think he is? He doesn't just get to order Genesis around. It doesn't matter who he's in bed with. Genesis wasn't about to bend over for him, wasn't about to leave Cloud alone with him. He wasn't worthy, wasn't good enough. Genesis would burn the whole world to the ground before he let him touch Cloud.
Beep.
"Leave."
But Angeal is not on his side, the man's no-nonsense voice rumbling right through him and doing a very thorough job of breaking his heart. Or, at least, what was left of his heart after the state he found Cloud in.
Angeal was really mad at him, then, wasn't he? He had to be. Had to be furious – this was all Genesis's fault after all – regardless of the pretty little lies he liked to say to Genesis's face – It's not your fault. You didn't kill him. He wouldn't blame you for anything.
We'll see him again someday.
Click.
Ba-beep.
"You don't honestly believe this nonsense, do you Tseng?" Angeal growls – growls – something that clashed oh so jarringly with the small sob Genesis can just barely make out behind him. He deserves it, though, Genesis knows he does – the anger, the frustration, the blame – but he can't deny that it cuts deep. Can't bring himself to turn around and see the hate etched across Angeal's face. Can't bring himself to show how painfully it affects him, how horribly his body aches.
"I received a call from Kunsel this morning." Genesis almost growls himself – typical Turk redirection. "He claims to have seen Cloud Strife wandering around the Sector 5 slums today."
Seriously? Is this what Shinra's money was paying for? This kind of slapdash detective work? So what if Cloud was seen in Sector 5 today? Was that really so hard to believe? Sector 7 wasn't that terribly far away.
Beep.
"…Why am I only finding out about this now?"
"There was no point telling you anything until I had confirmed the validity of Kunsel's story. Why do you think I rode all this way with you?"
"Tseng."
"Please, Angeal. I thought theatrics were Genesis's thing."
That's it. Once Genesis can move again, he's going to Firaga that man in his damn face. He doesn't care if he has no idea what in the ever-loving-fuck they're talking about right now, he's going to singe that man's eyebrows off and see if I'm-not-a-daddy's-boy and that flower girl can stand to look at him without laughing their butts off.
Right now, though, everything just hurts so damn much.
Ba-beep.
"You're out of line, Tseng."
Genesis's mouth nearly falls open at the thought that Angeal was actually standing up for him (after everything he's done), but then a hand wraps its way around his ever-glowing-bracer, and he lashes out without thinking. "Back off, you knave!" he snarls, switching easily from Full-Life to Fire.
At least until Angeal's heartbroken (and terribly far away?) voice reaches his ears. "Genesis, stop. He's gone."
Ba-beep.
"…My apologies. That was callous of me."
Normally, Genesis would be amazed that a Turk knew what an apology was, much less how to sound somewhat sincere while making one. But right now? Right now, he's far too broken. Right now, he collapses against Angeal's broader frame and lets himself weep. Pulls Cloud closer to him and babbles, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault," Angeal promises, and it's a lovely little thing to hear. But Genesis recognizes it for the lie that it is. As much as he would love to blame the shapely barmaid and her annoying soulmate – and he does, oh he does – he knows it's really his fault. If he hadn't said what he had, Cloud would still be there. Would still be there with him.
"Let me ask you something, Angeal." A pair of well-polished black shoes falter to a stop right in front of the barmaid, and Genesis swears he can almost hear a soft, strangled "Tifa…" from the man before he starts speaking again. "Your mark – is it still faded?"
Ba-beep.
Now, don't get him wrong, Genesis hates the barmaid with a fiery passion. Hates her for getting in the way, for monopolizing Cloud's time, for needing protection (Cloud's protection). But he takes offense on her part for her soulmate's indifference. Would it kill him to attend to her for even five minutes before badgering Angeal about his soulmark? Goddess's sake.
Beep.
"That's what I thought."
Genesis means to tell him off. Means to ream him out for his horrible sense of tact, but his mouth has other ideas, apparently. "What were they doing in Sector 7? I thought she worked in Sector 4?" Though, perhaps it's for the best. He can't have anybody thinking he's sympathetic towards the woman.
"Wait. Are you saying he's…?"
"All I'm saying, Angeal, is Shinra has many enemies. We can't afford to rule out any possibilities; especially not when the person in question is enhanced."
Beep.
Genesis blinks, and the rage building in him explodes. It engulfs him, body and soul alike, until all he can feel are the flames burning him alive. Until all he can hear is his own voice screaming as he loses his fight to the pain.
He blacks out, he's pretty sure he does. For when he comes to again, he's lying on his back, the stabbing pain from before reduced to just a steady ache in his side.
He tries to move, tries to wiggle his toes and fingers at the very least, but everything just feels so heavy. A feeling that reminds him markedly of when he and the Puppy had gone through every single bottle of SOLDIER-grade alcohol they could find in the Tower. In one afternoon. Definitely not one of his better ideas – Angeal had been exceedingly disappointed with the both of them afterwards (Genesis most of all) – but Genesis had never been one to turn down a challenge.
Though, Genesis will say he wasn't terribly pleased with Zack himself when he had woken up the next morning feeling like he had taken Sephiroth's Supernova straight to the face. He had been entirely intent on shunning the knucklehead for the rest of the month if he was lucky.
He hadn't lasted two days, not with how enthusiastic Zack was with his apologies.
Cloud, on the other hand, had just rolled his eyes and told them they were both idiots. Not that Genesis had been that terribly offended – he had figured that that was just Cloud's way of saying 'I love you'. And Cloud certainly hadn't complained when they had sweet-talked him into joining their post-drinking dalliance.
But wait.
No.
Where's Cloud?
"L-Little bird?" he croaks out, horrified to realize that Cloud was no longer in his arms, and Angeal no longer at his back. Had Angeal abandoned him too? Had he taken Cloud and left Genesis to his fate?
No. He wouldn't do that, right? They had promised to be true to each other forever and for all eternity, hadn't they? They had tied their hands together and vowed to be as one for the rest of their days, long before their soulmarks had even showed up, hadn't they?
Genesis grunts and tries to shake his head, a little unprepared for the horrible vertigo that that action causes. No, Angeal would never throw him away like that. He would never just up and abandon him like that. They had been through too much together, had already seen each other at the lowest of the low for Genesis to consider anything else. It would be a disservice to the both of them to think otherwise.
Beep.
"You won't hurt him, will you?"
Genesis gasps. "Angeal?" He struggles to push himself upright – being sprawled out on the floor is terribly unhelpful – struggles to get even a hand under him, but he can't move. Can't so much as turn his head, not when some unseen force is holding him down. "Angeal! Where are you?"
Beep.
"As long as he cooperates, I won't lay a finger on him."
"…And if he doesn't cooperate?"
The Turk. That's it. It had to be him. He had Angeal. He had Cloud. And it was up to Genesis to get them back.
Ba-beep.
"Then I will use the necessary force."
Necessary force? What was that supposed to mean? Was the Turk planning to kill somebody? With 'extreme prejudice' like Turks do?
"Please don't argue with me, Angeal. We've already verified that this man, whoever he is, is not your soulmate risen from the grave."
And all of a sudden, and with startling clarity, Genesis sees him. Sees Cloud – dear, sweet, innocent Cloud – standing there. Standing above him, looking stronger than Genesis ever remembered him being. But more importantly, looking just as alive, just as in control as Genesis had so desperately longed for him to be.
His outfit is just a blur of the darkest ebony, but Genesis knows it has to be a 1st Class SOLDIER uniform – nothing else would suit him. And as for the rest, as for what Genesis can actually make out, well it's enough to make his heart skip a beat.
Ba-beep.
Dandelion yellow hair. Vibrant azure blue eyes, glowing from as much mako as the rest of them. And a single earring in the shape of a wolf.
Goddess, he was beautiful.
Genesis had nearly forgotten just how beautiful he was, just how radiant – his pictures didn't do him justice, especially since they were so painful to look at after everything. But Genesis looks now. He stares, trying to bask in Cloud's presence for even five minutes more.
But no, stop, he thinks with a growl. Was this who Tseng was talking about? Was this who Tseng was planning to use the necessary force against?
Ba-beep.
Hell if Genesis would let him.
"But why would he help Genesis if he wasn't on our side?"
Ba-beep.
Genesis doesn't care what they're talking about anymore. Doesn't care what sort of arrangement they're coming to. He's going to kill Tseng. Ba-beep. Once and for all. He thought the man having a homewrecker for a soulmate was bad enough, but now Tseng's planning to take Cloud away from him when Genesis had only just found him again?
Ba-beep.
Hell. if. Genesis. would. let. him. He had failed Cloud once, had gotten him killed once. As if he was about to do that again. As if he was about to leave him to die again. No. He would protect Cloud this time. For sure.
Ba-beep.
"That, I do not know. But the fact of the matter is, we have an enhanced man, purportedly on the level of a 1st Class SOLDIER, gallivanting about the country unsupervised. Shinra cannot leave him to do whatever he pleases."
Ba-beep.
"Don't think I'm about to let you do whatever you please either!" Genesis growls, fighting through the numbness keeping him prisoner.
Ba-beep.
"Don't worry, Angeal. Whatever's going on here, I'll get to the bottom of it."
Ba-beep.
"Mark my words, Tseng!" Genesis tugs against the straps holding his head hostage. "Once I get out of this, I will kill you!"
Ba-beep.
Two seconds. That's all it takes. All it takes for the straps around his head to give way with a satisfying snap and for a large, clunky object to fall from his face and to the ground below. He's not sure what sort of medieval trap they had him hooked up to, or really why the oxygen around him – Ba-beep – which at one point seemed so plentiful, has now come to a stark and sudden end, but it doesn't matter. He has to save Cloud now. He could worry about silly things like breathing later.
Ba-beep.
"Angeal."
There's a hint of urgency to Tseng's tone, and Genesis can just imagine that the Turk's finally realized the danger he's in. Not that Genesis is about to stop. No, he had come too far, had been through too much to let Tseng get away with this flagrant transgression.
Ba-beep.
"I'm not sure what games you're playing at, Tseng!" Genesis gasps for air, even as his hands fumble to find the restraints holding his torso down. "But it's time somebody knocked you off that high Chocobo of yours!" It takes him a good try or two, but finally – finally – he finds the thin tube protruding from his arm. "And that somebody's going to be me!" he shouts, giving the tube a good pull, and cursing at the fire that seems to ignite itself in his veins.
Ba-beep.
"Genesis, what are you doing?!"
"I'm g-going to k-kill… t-that arrogant son of a b-bitch…! What d-does it l-look… like I-I'm doing…?!" Perhaps Genesis should be concerned about the black spots dotting his vision or how incredibly frail he feels all of a sudden, but he still has a mission to complete. He has to save Cloud.
And he needs to work faster.
Especially now that Cloud is fading along with Genesis's vision.
"L-Little… b-bird…!" he wheezes, giving the damn tube another (weak) tug. He's unsuccessful, though, another, larger hand clamping down on his own and peeling his fingers away. "U-Unhand… m-me… y-you… j-jackanape…!" he rasps, struggling against the heathen above him. "I-I… h-have… t-to… s-save… h-him…!" he cries, realizing that no matter how hard he struggles, no matter how wildly he flails, he cannot break free.
Ba…beep.
"Genesis, leave the IV alone!"
"A-An… g-geal… P-P-Please… I-I… h-have… t-to…" He tries to buck the heavier man off of him, but he's just so very, very weak.
"Tseng, the oxygen mask!"
"Right."
"P-Please… j-just… l-let… m-me…"
Cloud. The ruby red his ears would turn whenever Genesis tried to woo him. The rolling of his eyes and endearing quirk of his lips whenever Genesis (and Zack) did something mildly infuriating. The way his nostrils would flare when he was truly mad about something. And that cute, contented little smile he would give when he thought nobody was looking.
Genesis can't see any of that anymore.
He can't see Cloud anymore.
Ba…beep.
"Nurse!"
He's just resigned himself to his fate, just closed his eyes to drift off into oblivion – please forgive me, Cloud – when everything's upended and he can breathe again. Something that takes top priority, the weight holding him down and the hand cradling the back of his head not even bothering him as he gasps down greedy lungfuls of air.
Beep.
"Oh no! What happened?"
Whatever it is that's going on around him, whatever it is these people want of him, he wishes they would just stop. Wishes whoever it was would just let him die, would just leave him to waste away. It would be better that way. It would be a kinder fate for him than prying his eyes open and realizing that the only thing he can see now is Cloud's heart-wrenchingly lifeless face.
Those dull, lightless blue eyes. The jagged cuts and bruises marring that once-flawless skin. And the blood. So much blood.
Did Genesis say he could breathe again?
He… He doesn't think he can…
Beeeep.
And when his vision fades this time, Genesis welcomes it with open arms. Embraces it like the long-lost lover he had almost convinced himself was alive again. But Cloud wasn't coming back, he knows that. He had spent several long, agonizing, Cloud-less hours in the emergency room suffering from severe mana exhaustion, and threatening everyone within earshot to release him now or lose their heads, to think otherwise. Had spent every day since staring at the faded mark on his wrist, willing it to darken, and cursing the Goddess every day it didn't, to believe he'd be able to undo the worst mistake of his life.
Beeeeeeep.
No, Cloud wouldn't be rising from the grave (ugh, why did that phrase sound so maddeningly familiar?), no matter how he might wish it. He wouldn't be returning to Genesis, at least not in the living world. But if Genesis just let nature run its course, maybe he could join Cloud in the Lifestream. Maybe he would have the chance to beg for forgiveness after all.
And, honestly, the others would be happier without him, without all the censure and abuse, even if it pains him to admit it.
He just wishes he had had a chance to apologize. To all of them, yes, but the Puppy most of all. It had been years since he had been able to look at him without seeing Cloud staring back from his eyes. Without hearing the unspoken "Why didn't you save me, Gen?" over and over and over again until he was snapping at Zack – I don't have time for your foolish blathering! He wishes he hadn't. Wishes he had been better. He really did love the childish goofball, even if he was absolutely dreadful at showing it.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…
"He's crashing!"
Please forgive me… Zack… Seph… 'geal… It's better… this way…
And Cloud… Please don't… turn me away…
"Clear!"
"My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams, no honor remains…"
Genesis would almost be convinced that that was him reciting Loveless – if Zackary was to be believed, it wouldn't be the first time he had done something like that in his sleep ("I thought you were serenading me, which seemed weird since I was already in your bed, but no, it was just Loveless") – but ugh no. Even in his weariest and wretchedest of states, he would never deliver a line quite that stilted. And he certainly wouldn't let his voice get quite so hoarse.
So what the hell was going on?
"The arrow has left the bow of the goddess… My soul, corrupted by v-vengeance… hath endured torment, to find the end of… the end of the journey…"
Goddess, Genesis nearly gasps, his heart doing a painful little backflip in his chest.
That was Angeal's voice.
What was he doing here? Why was he reciting Loveless? He would never do something like that, not willingly, at least. Not without sounding and looking like he was suffering from some terrible punishment – which, honestly, after some of the things they had seen, wasn't really fair.
So, what had happened this time? Had Genesis provoked Sephiroth into a near-death match again? Had he actually died this time?
Beep.
Hmm, no. From the sound of it, Genesis must be hooked up to a heart monitor, meaning he couldn't be dead. Not yet, at least. So, heavily injured it must be.
But the question is – how injured?
"In my own salvation, and your own eternal s-slumber… Legend shall speak, of s-sacrifice… at world's end…"
His mind still seems to be intact – thank the Goddess – but he cannot for the life of him figure out how to open his eyes, everything dark as pitch around him. It wasn't ideal, but if he had just come off sedation, it wasn't all that surprising, either. He'd just have to use his other senses to figure out where he was.
He breathes, and doesn't miss the heavy rasping sound he makes. A sound that reminds him distinctly of Darth Kupo, or whatever that dumb character was supposed to be called. Zack had tried to explain the cinematic merit of Moogle Wars or The Mog-pire Strikes Back or whatever the hell it was, but honestly, Genesis couldn't get past the ridiculous red pom-pom sticking up from the otherwise ominous-looking helmet. Couldn't get over how damn tiny the 'Terror of the Galaxy' was. And if that wasn't bad enough, he then had to suffer through Zack and Cloud both trampling through his own apartment, re-enacting that damn movie for the next six months. Honestly, if he never heard "No… I am your mog-father, kupo!" again, it would be too damn soon.
But like always, the thought of Cloud rears up heartache he's not ready to deal with just yet – he'd never want to forget him, but sometimes it just hurt too much – so he focuses on his surroundings instead. Heavy rasping, the pinch of elastic, and a cool breeze playing across his face. They had him outfitted with an oxygen mask too, then.
"The wind sails… over the water's surface. Quietly, but surely."
He wiggles his arms next, and while he is relieved to find that he can move – he wasn't completely paralyzed then – he can't deny his amusement when he feels the thick leather straps holding his wrists (and ankles) down. Was he really that terrible of a patient (like Zack liked to say), that all this was necessary? Probably. Even more so if he raged and rioted like he was wont to do before. But now? Now his head feels clearer than it has in years, and he just finds himself tickled pink that whoever it was thought that simple leather was enough to hold him down.
He's half tempted to break out of the restraints just for the heck of it, just to show them that he can – assuming he's not too weak at the moment, of course – but he knows that if Angeal's here, then he must have approved everything. He must be the one who's actually in charge of Genesis's care. And, really, Genesis had put Angeal through so much already. He guesses he can play nice for the time being.
Especially when Angeal had already swallowed his pride to read him Loveless.
"Even if the morrow is barren of promises. Nothing shall forestall my return."
The run-of-the-mill cotton that surrounds him tells a whole new story. He knows he can't be within Midgar's walls anymore – the Tower infirmary only used the highest-grade linen available, at least within the 1st Class SOLDIER wing. Not to mention that Genesis had been avoiding the slums like the plague, more so now than before Cloud's death.
But what had happened to prevent him from being airlifted to Midgar? What had happened to put him in this not paralyzed, but pretty darn close state? And what had happened to make him feel so light, so calm (or at least not as perpetually angry anymore), even when he was more numb and far more exhausted than he's ever been in his entire life?
Behemoths.
That's right, Genesis thinks, with no small amount of ire. He had heard about those blasted Behemoths outside Kalm and decided to take matters into his own hands. Had decided to finally get his revenge. Angeal wouldn't approve, he was sure of it – some bullshit about him being too sick – so he had snuck out of the Tower while he wasn't looking, while he was too busy cooking breakfast.
"To become the dew that qu – quenches the land…"
He had felled the first two beasts himself – a deft swipe of Rapier to one and an expertly placed Firaga to the other had easily taken care of that – but everything after that was a blank. He remembers pain, and blood, and the understanding that he was going to die. Something that had quickly morphed from tired resignation to a deep, burning want. He wanted to die, wanted to see Cloud again. But after that? Nothing.
Oh, he knows something happened to change everything. To convince him that he didn't really need to die to see Cloud again. But other than a flash of dazzling mako blue eyes and an unfamiliar wolf-shaped earring, Genesis has no idea what (or who?) that something is.
"To spare the sands, the seas, the skies. I offer thee this s-silent s-sacrifice…"
Huh. Personally, Genesis would never have delivered that line quite so drearily, but he supposes he can't fault the emotion Angeal poured into it. Emotion that Genesis had caused. He had been positively dreadful to each one of his soulmates, and here Angeal was crying at his bedside because Genesis had almost gotten himself killed.
He was the worst.
"Please, Gen…" Angeal croaks, and Goddess, Genesis half wants to cry himself. "Please don't leave me."
All the little slights, all the insults he had thrown left and right – "Soup again, really? Have you forgotten how to cook?" – hit him harder than that damn Behemoth. Remind him why he had so easily accepted the idea he was going to die. You deserve better, he wants to tell Angeal. You'll be happier without me. I'll just get you killed too.
"Please," Angeal begs, clasping one of Genesis's hands – a somewhat awkward motion what with the restraints in the way. "I love you. More than anything in the world."
Genesis is the absolute worst, he knows he is, but he can't deny the effect Angeal's words have on him. Can't deny that they're the one thing that could still warm his overly frigid heart – deep down, he was still a very competitive man. Sure, the awareness that he's not good enough for this giant teddy bear of a man remains, but Genesis can be better. No. He will be better. He was already planning to grovel at Cloud's feet for all eternity, he would just practice on Angeal first.
He still has some fight left in him, after all.
So, that's what he does – fight. He struggles through the exhaustion and the near inability to move (from injury and restraints alike), and uses Angeal's hand in his as some sort of anchor until he's able to crack his eyes open and see the dark mass that must be Angeal sitting at his bedside. "…'ge…al," he manages to wheeze in between rasps of the oxygen mask, his throat drier than the Corel Desert.
The dark mass jolts, and then Angeal is choking on his tears again. "G-Gen?"
Several thoughts fight for dominance – I'm sorry. You're beautiful. I love you more than you'll ever know – but when he works up the strength to speak again, the first thing out of his mouth is, "Be – " rasp – "Behemoths… suck."
Well, he supposes that will do.
Especially since Angeal laughs through his tears, and lies his forehead against Genesis's own, their fingers still twined together. "T-They – " sniff – "They really do."
A/N:
- So, I haven't actually played Crisis Core since it first came out, so I hope my portrayal of Genesis seems accurate. Also, this chapter was entirely experimental and I know this isn't what people were expecting when they asked for Genesis's POV, but I hope everybody enjoyed the chapter anyway!
- Technically, it's Arise in the Remake and Life1/Life2 in the OG game (according to Google), but I thought Full-Life of Final Fantasy IX was more understandable/I liked it better, so that's the one I went with.
- Originally, I was planning to have Genesis mention before drifting off that being hit by the defibrillator felt like he had been hit with Thunder straight to the chest again, and that there was a reason he refused to train the Puppy anymore. But I thought a hard stop at "Clear!" was more impactful.