In Which We Find Our Immortality
Chapter 5: Truth That Cannot Be Unlearned
By the time Cid returned home, Vincent and Marlene had managed to quell most of his temper. His mood, however, was still foul. He puffed on his cigarette—his third since Shera's call to his office—and marched up to the house. His companions followed, side by side, preparing themselves.
"Cid, don't say a thing," Shera pleaded as soon as he came through the door. "Just hear him out, please."
"Alright, alright." He glanced past her: Cloud was sitting by himself in the living room, his chin resting on folded hands. He swore. "How can he just sit there? I told him not to come back."
Vincent looked for himself. Cloud looked the same as when he'd come the night before—silent, pensive, but also very nervous. "Let me talk to him," he murmured. "The rest of you can still go out to dinner. In fact, it might be better if you go. I think I can get through to him."
Cid frowned. He didn't like the idea of Cloud being left alone with any of them; but then, because of Vincent's history, he might have a chance of doing at least some good. It would be better than having everyone together right away, and at least this way Cid knew where Cloud was. "Alright," he relented. "But be careful with him." He turned to his wife. "Where are the kids?"
"Upstairs getting cleaned up."
Vincent stood aside as the rest of the family prepared and left the house. Each one cast Cloud a significant glance on their way out; except Collin, who avoided the man completely. Vincent sighed as he closed and locked the door behind them. Collin might not realize it, but his behavior was only making matters worse. If only they all understood the way he did….
Vincent entered the living room and seated himself in a chair facing Cloud. "I'm glad you came back," he started with. "I wasn't sure you would; we all know how hard it must be."
"I had to explain myself," Cloud replied simply.
"Yes. Shera told me so."
"I also have a birthday present for him."
"Oh?" Vincent couldn't help being somewhat pleased. At least Cloud was making an effort. It showed hope. "I'm sure Collin—"
"I don't want to talk about Collin now," Cloud interrupted. His hands were tight about each other, and his eyes met Vincent's with pleading. "I can't."
He sighed. So much for effort. But, I have to be patient with him. After all, I spent thirty years asleep in Nibelheim. I know what he's going through—if I can't try to help him, who will? Who can? "Alright, Cloud. I won't force you."
Cloud nodded gratefully. "The first thing is Vandalee," he began. "I noticed something when I passed it on my way here. There weren't as many animals."
"That's understandable. Whenever a new city—"
"No. There were less plants, too. I…could hear the planet crying." His eyes had become focused and serious. "Vandalee had a reactor."
Vincent admitted to himself the realization of his original instincts. "I've considered that. But neither Cid nor I were alerted of such a project, and I believe Cassandra when she says she wasn't, either. If there was a reactor, it was a well-kept secret."
"Whoever was responsible is probably dead by now," Cloud continued. "Our concern now is the Weapon Griffins."
"Weapon Griffins?" his companion repeated.
"Yes." The more he spoke, the sharper and clearer his words became. He was starting to sound more like Cloud Strife; having a straight, logical topic kept his sensitive mind from wandering. "These Griffins haven't evolved from normal Griffins. The first of them were constructed and summoned by the planet after we destroyed the original five Weapons. That's why they're so powerful."
Vincent considered this, catching on to how serious their situation was. "And now they're headed here. Vandalee's supplies came from us. They're tracing the reactor to its source." He paused, deciding against asking Cloud about his possible involvement. "Cloud, we have no weapons here. The largest firearm allowed in the city is a handgun. Cid and I still have our weapons, but they're no match for an entire Clan. We don't have any materia, since the planet stopped making it."
"I've thought about that. I still have most of my materia, but they've been losing power since…." His speech faltered only a moment. "The summons are all useless, and the rest can't perform their highest level spells."
"There has to be something we can do."
In an instant all Cloud's progress had reversed. The sudden mood swing left him with an expression of cold anger. "That's not all." Vincent sighed, trying to anticipate what could be worse. "The Weapon Griffins aren't only agitated by the reactor. They can sense something here that has begun to move, as I can. They sense Jenova."
The older man shook his head. The intense, obsessive hatred in his colleague's eyes now was all too familiar to him. Whatever Cloud thought was happening, his judgement was blurred by his own rage and fear. "There is no Jenova here," Vincent told him sternly. "I know what you're thinking, and it's not possible. The Griffins have never targeted this city on my account, as I haven't transformed into Chaos for a decade. Collin's been checked several times; there is no Jenova in him."
"You're wrong," cloud retorted sharply. "He does—I can sense it."
"You can't just keep assuming things that aren't there. Collin is just a boy. He is not Sephiroth—Sephiroth is dead."
"No!" The blonde shook his head emphatically. "You don't understand. The boy—"
"Is just that," Vincent tried to reason with him, but he could tell it wasn't working. Cloud leaned back against the couch, his eyes changing from wrathful to listless. Something had shattered in his brain: he couldn't handle the rush of emotion. He said no more, as if having been suddenly pulled away from reality itself. Vincent sighed with frustration. "Cloud, you can't do this to yourself," he said, even if the man couldn't hear. "I know how hard it is, but you can't let it win. You can have another chance. I did."
Cloud closed his eyes. "It is too late for me," he spoke wearily.
"No, it's not." He felt a passion rising inside him to help this man, to lift him out of despair as he had once been lifted. "Cloud, I lived for thirty years in a coffin. After Meteor I fled from the world, ashamed of my failure. For three years I hid from life, and myself.
"But when you found me, when you brought me out, I found another chance." Though his audience appeared unmoved by his speech, he continued. "Cid and Shera welcomed me because I wanted to change. I watched their children grow." He gazed down at his left arm, watching the golden digits curl. "I held them with this arm, the very mark of my failure and sin. And still they love me. So please, don't give up."
Cloud did not move or reply. His face was calm, as if he'd fallen asleep during his companion's pleas. The older man sighed distastefully. "Please, Cloud," he repeated. Then, sensing he would be able to do no more that night, he left Cloud to his repose.
Collin barely spoke during dinner. He pushed and prodded his food with his fork, uninterested in eating. He was too full already with questions to allow for nourishment. All evening he pondered, wondering what would happen when he returned home. Would cloud be waiting for him? Would he look angry, or afraid? And if he questioned the man, would he receive answers?
He wanted Tess to be with him. She always knew what to do, how to act. She was confidant and smart, and he merely shy. Facing the man felt comparable to facing a dragon. His insides churned sickeningly at the thought.
When they reached home some time later—Cid had delayed their arrival as long as he could—both chocobos were now in the yard, and beside them a large traveling pack. It appeared that Cloud would be staying with them after all. Beside Nu was another wrapped bundle, over four and a half feet long and nearly flat. Collin eyed it cautiously—a weapon was inside. He could tell, if not by the strange shape then by the feeling he got from it. He kept as far away from it as the driveway allowed as he followed his family into the house.
Vincent was waiting for them; he swiftly drew Cid aside. Despite their hushed tones, Collin could hear that they were talking about Vandalee. He didn't pay attention until Vincent whispered, "I tried talking to Cloud." He nodded toward the living room. "He's convinced that Collin has Jenova in him."
Collin gasped. He turned swiftly toward the men, unable to hide the shock on his face. He knew the name Jenova: it was the alien inside Vincent and Cloud, and had once been inside Sephiroth. "I have…Jenova?" he said breathlessly, fighting to keep the tremor out of his voice. His stomach was twisting. Jenova…was what made Sephiroth go insane….
When Cid realized that they'd been overheard, he cursed. Vincent, however, was able to keep his face neutral. "No, Collin," he told the boy. Collin was thankful to hear that that the man's words were sincere. "You don't have Jenova."
"But…Cloud thinks I do?" he persisted. "Why? Why would I…?"
Everyone turned to look at him. His sisters were baffled, but Shera and Marlene were exchanging worried looks. Something was happening. They knew—so did Vincent, and his dad. They were watching him as if he'd suddenly figured it out. But how could he? He was Cid Highwind's son; a fact that, though it made him quite famous, wouldn't imply he had an alien inside him. He didn't. It was impossible.
A vision entered his mind. It was the picture from his dream: the dead woman, and the man with the eyes that glowed. But this time he had the feeling that he was there, not just watching but with them. He could hear their voices, mixing and flowing. He watched from the side and then from above. He saw the woman as if he were the glowing-eyed man viewing his kill. He shuddered.
"I have something." The low, hoarse voice of Cloud Strife caused him to jump. He spun to face the man, who had exited the living room. "I brought a present."
"Now's not a good time," replied Vincent. "You should—"
"Please. I don't know how long I'll be here." Cloud entered the living room once more and returned a moment later, carrying the black case with the silver latches. He set it down and was silent for a moment, as if considering whether or not he should go through with his gift. Collin held his breath. At last the case was opened and turned toward the awaiting spectators.
Collin wasn't sure what to make of it at first. It looked like a stuffed cat, or a doll, with black fur and a white belly. Atop its head was a tiny golden crown, and a red cape was tied around its neck. He couldn't believe that he was receiving some kind of toy.
"I know that!" Elly exclaimed excitedly. "That's in my school book. It's Cait Sith, isn't it?"
Cloud nodded. "Cait Sith No. 2. I've kept it all this time. I…want you to have it." He raised his head to meet Collin's gaze. There was a new type of fear in those brilliant eyes now; not simply apprehension, but hope. Like a plea. "You never knew the man who controlled this doll," he went on, depending on his courage to keep his head up. "He wasn't a great man. He made mistakes, like we all did, but he tried to make up for it. He helped save the planet, and he died trying to save the people of Midgar from the Clan Dragons."
A moment of silence passed as everyone honored the memory of the deceased. Collin knelt in front of the doll and reached out to touch the false fur. His every move was being watched. He pursed his lips, moving his hand over the doll's hid as if he could pull history from its texture. There were scars and scorch marks hidden beneath the thin hairs. He looked again to Cloud, about to question him, when the man's hand fell over his. He jumped.
"You probably won't understand its significance until later," Cloud said in a low tone. He guided Collin's hand to a space jest behind Cait Sith's ear. There was a small button hidden there. But I'm giving it to you as a reminder. I want you to remember what happened back then."
Collin nodded, retrieving his hand. His skin felt hot. "Yes, sir," he responded, lowering his gaze to the doll. "I will."
"Good." An awkward moment passed, and then Cloud climbed to his feet. He was about to move away when Collin stopped him with a question.
"Mr. Strife," he asked quietly, "is there Jenova in me?"
Shera grimaced and began, "You don't have to—"
But Cloud cut her off. "I hope not," he said. "But, if you do…"
"If I do…?" Collin prompted.
"…then you'll know." He continued into the living room without a word.
Collin started as Cid clapped his shoulder. "Don't you worry, kid," he said lightly. "We've all been checked. You're clean." He ruffled the top of his son's head. "Don't give it another thought and go to sleep. It's your birthday tomorrow, after all."
"Yeah." Collin closed the black case and lifted it—he was a bit surprised by the weight. "I'm okay, Dad. C'mon Daryl, Sam, Elly. Let's get ready for bed."
"But it's only nine o'clock," Samantha protested.
"You don't have to go to bed, but I want you up." Shera herded them toward the stairs. "Tomorrow's going to be busy."
"Yeah, Mom." With Collin leading the way they tromped up the stairs to their rooms.
Collin set the doll on the bed in front of him. He arranged it so that it was sitting on its haunches as a real cat might, and he sat with his lets crossed, viewing the object critically. It was rather ridiculous looking. He had a hard time imagining the two foot tall cat marching into battle. But then, it was probably an effective diversionary tactic.
"Okay. He gave me this for a reason." He frowned, crawling forward. His eyes flickered to the clock on his desk: eleven o'clock. Most everyone would be in their rooms by now, asleep. He found the button behind Cait Sith's ear and pressed it.
The doll jerked, tiny gears buzzing within its false skin. It straightened and blinked several times. "Hello, Collin," the doll greeted in a recorded, almost annoyingly cheerful tone. "How may I help you?"
Collin gave a short laugh. "I don't know. What exactly are you supposed to do?"
The eyes blinked. "My purpose is to answer your questions. I was programmed by Cloud Strife and Nanaki with knowledge of events before and after the Fallout."
"Like a talking textbook."
The cat's ears twitched, as if it were alive. "Yes."
"Cool." Collin stared at the doll for a while, finally comprehending how important this gift was. It held the truth about everything. He had so many questions, he didn't know where to start. "Tess would absolutely love you," he murmured thoughtfully.
"Please identify 'Tess.'"
"A girl at my school. Tess Raven." He laughed as the whiskers twitched, and the cat stored the information. "You're pretty cool. But I don't even know where to start. There's so much to ask."
"I have been programmed with over six hours of information," Cait Sith offered.
"I should have know." Collin sighed, leaning against the headboard. He wanted to hear the whole thing, word for word, but the hour was already making him weary. Ask the important questions now. Worry about the details later. He smiled to himself. You can invite Tess over, and listen together. But for now, what do you want to know the most?
Why does Cloud fear me?
Collin hesitated. Though he wanted to know this more than anything, the words clung to his lips and would not fall. What if Cait Sith didn't know the answer? Surly Cloud wouldn't include that sort of information. And if Cait Sith became confused and misinterpreted his question, he'd be worse off.
But more disturbing than that was the possibility of the cat knowing the answer. What if he did have Jenova inside him, and Cloud thought him an enemy? Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was Cid's son—after all, the two didn't seem to like each other much. Or rather, something more fundamental than that. To even lay eyes on the boy caused Cloud to tremble; was the truth painted so obviously in his face? In his features, or his eyes?
Collin shook his head, halting his wandering mind. "Start with something simple," he advised aloud. "You can ask when you're ready."
"Pardon?" said the cat.
"Tell me…about Cloud." He considered how to make his request more specific. "Why…did he go crazy?"
Cait Sith's ear twitched, and his tail flickered as he generated a response. "Cloud's fragile mental state is attributed to the presence of Jenova in his cells."
Nanaki must have programmed this part. Him and his mumbo-jumbo vocabulary. "Go on."
"Cloud was exposed to Jenova at the age of sixteen, as speculated, by Professor Ian Hojo. Though Jenova's behavior inside a human host is impossible to predict, it has been known to grant special powers."
"After the Fallout," Collin interrupted. "What happened then to make him crazy?"
Another flick of the tail. "Jenova was an entity that existed as a central conscious. Whenever Jenova cells enter an organism, its DNA rewrites the host's DNA, and a new consciousness is created to direct and aid the host. These new souls are extensions of the original, and are referred to as 'Demons.' A Demon is a combination of the host's soul and Jenova."
"So Cloud has part of Jenova's soul combined with his own," the boy summarized. "And so did the Great SOLDIER. And Vincent."
"Correct. The portion of Jenova inside Sephiroth was referred to as the One-Winged Angel. The portion in Vincent Valentine is Chaos."
"And…Cloud's?"
"The portion of Jenova in Cloud has yet to be given a name."
Collin nodded; the thought of naming something that lived inside you gave him the creeps, as if it were an entirely different creature, knowing all your thoughts and feelings. He shuddered. "Okay, I get it."
Cait Sith's eyes blinked, and it paused before continuing. "Jenova's body was destroyed by Avalanche, and the appearance of Holy destroyed the central conscious. However, the extensions of that soul suffered severe mental trauma. Without guidance from their center they became erratic and uncontrollable. These symptoms are more commonly mistaken for insanity."
Like a chicken running around with its head cut off. "But why didn't that happen to Vincent?"
"It did," Cait Sith replied. "Vincent was missing for three years after the Fallout. Cloud and Tifa Strife discovered him in a cave on the Western Continent. He was rehabilitated."
Collin frowned, as he had never heard such a thing from Vincent. Living in a cave for three years? Now, he was a perfectly normal man, discounting his obvious physical deformity. "Why wasn't Cloud rehabilitated?"
"Cloud's ability to recover has been attributed to fear, anxiety, and paranoia concerning the possible return of Sephiroth. The death of his wife led him to believe that his son—"
Collin lashed out, smacking the power button behind the doll's ear. Cait Sith immediately went silent, and flopped onto its side on the bed. It remained that way for several minutes, motionless. The boy stared, waiting for it to animate itself and continue. His eyes were wide and panic-stricken.
No…it can't be true.
Cloud stood at the base of the stairs, one hand curled tightly about the railing, the other steadying himself against the wall. His hands were shaking. He scowled at his own cowardice; it was the same cowardice that had been his prison his entire life. He cast his gaze upward, as if viewing the twisted tunnel to some demon temple.
But he had to go. Collin had to be taught the truth, and leaving the doll was a cruel way to do it. He had come here to face him, and that was what he would do.
With eyes closed he took the first step. It was easier that way, unable to view the incredible heights he intended to attain. He'd waited ten years for this moment, and he clung to what little strength he had to keep him going.
Collin's hands were trembling as he reached out, fumbling over the doll's ear for the power button. At last Cait Sith's motor clicked and whirled, and it pushed into a sitting position once more. "Hello, Collin. How may I help you?"
The boy gulped. "Cloud…was married, wasn't he?" he asked, unconsciously dodging the question that hung dagger-like from his tongue. "To the Devoted One?"
"Cloud Strife married Tifa Lockheart thirteen months after Meteor's Descent," Cait Sith replied in that same, deceptively cheerful tone. "They had no permanent place of residence. Two years after Meteor's Descent Tifa gave birth to Cloud's son."
Collin held his breath, preparing for whatever may come from the doll's mechanical mouth. Before he had the chance, however, his ears detected the sound of footsteps. Someone was coming upstairs. On impulse he quickly shut the doll off once more and crammed it under his bed, as if afraid that its truth would be known not only to him. His fear was irrational—certainly his entire family already knew, whatever it was. They knew he was different than them.
But hen he realized who it was. Collin had always been able to tell his family by the sound of their footsteps, and these were not familiar. They were heavy and slow, like those of a lumbering beast. He shuddered and lay on his back, pulling the sheets up to his chin.
The footsteps continued. They paused when they reached the top stair, and then resumed down the short hallway to his room. They paused again at the door. Collin squeezed his eyes shut and waited.
The door opened slowly, almost soundlessly, a soft prelude to the silence that followed. Collin's heart fluttered crazily in his ribs, waiting for the man to enter or leave, but he heard no footsteps. He couldn't even hear the man breathing. But he could feel the blue eyes on him, and saw their glow in his mind. They were eyes that glowed against dark and light, like those from his dream.
"Cloud Strife married Tifa Lockheart."
Tifa. The Devoted. She was dead now, but at one time she'd been Cloud's wife. What had happened to her? And…what had become of her son?
The footsteps were coming closer now. They stopped just beside the bed; Collin kept his eyes shut, as if not seeing the man would make him go away. Because his mind was spinning with old images now, things he did not want to recall. Memories he'd been afraid to acknowledge. The man's shallow, ragged breath echoed painfully in his ears, raising his anxiety.
As long as I don't look, I'll be okay.
Cloud stared down at the boy asleep. Now that he was here, he didn't know what to do. He wanted to explain himself, but he could not speak the words in private let alone out loud. He could only gaze in wonder, marveling at the difference ten long years had made. The boy had grown considerably, not only in stature. For several minutes he stood there, taking advantage of this chance. He'd never be able to do this if the boy was awake. Those emerald eyes filled with dread he didn't have the strength to deal with.
Cloud seated himself on the edge of the bed. In the dark he could not see the boy's nearly white hair, nor the frightening green. He remembered sitting this way beside him years ago, cursing his own weak heart; hoping the child would not stir, allowing him the opportunity to observe a bit longer. A wondrous thing lay before him, and he, in all his failure, could appreciate it only in the dark of night.
Collin didn't flinch as the hand touched his head. The thick fingers were worn, made rough through years of labor. They didn't frighten him as much as they should have, shaking as spread through his hair. He remembered this. From the back of his mind he could see himself, pretending to be asleep in the presence of this man so as to calm him. The loss of sight gave them both some reassurance.
The hand pulled back abruptly, and Collin was startled to hear a choked sob. Cautiously he opened his eyes. Cloud was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes closed and a hand covering his mouth as if in shame. There were tears on his face. Cloud was stunned; he'd never seen a man cry. It was strange and mysterious, churning sickness in his innards.
"Led Cloud to believe that his son—"
Has Jenova. Has a demon. Collin bit his lip, feeling the cold sting of tears welling in his eyes. It's…me. He thinks I have Jenova—that I'm a monster. He sat up slowly, so that the sheets would not rustle. But I'm just…just a boy. I am…
He is my…
"Father." Collin closed his eyes; even if it denied him a glimpse of the man's reaction, he knew it would be easier for him this way. He reached his hand out into a void he could not see, waiting, and praying that it would be taken.
No length of time had ever felt so close to eternity. The sound of Cloud's breathing had stopped, leaving the pair in thick silence. Collin was shaking, straining his every sense in place of his eyes for some indication.
At last Collin's hand touched his, tentative and unsure. Collin took it gratefully, choking on a sob; whether it was relief, shook, or acceptance, he didn't know. He began to cry. He'd never cried before, he realized, or at least he didn't remember. But it didn't matter, because Cloud was crying, too.
For a long time they stayed that way. Neither could speak; words lacked emotion, no matter their form. So they simply sat there, until Cloud clutched his son to him fiercely, continuing to sob. Collin cried just as hard, for the father he didn't know had been missing, now found. Nearly an hour had passed when Cloud urged the boy to lay down once more. Collin allowed his father to tuck him in; this ritual that he had experienced hundreds of time in his childhood was new the man, and strange.
Cloud didn't speak. He pulled a chair over from the desk and sat at Collin side, only now wiping his tears away. They wouldn't leave as easily as that. Collin was respectful and didn't make any remarks. He closed his eyes. This was what he would want, he knew—to stay by him while he slept. It was that one time they could share together without fear. Collin fell into slumber easily to the sound of his father's quiet sobs.
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