by NightsDawne
Chapter 2: Crossing
Vincent fired his rifle, Death Penalty, the bullet carrying with it the elemental power of a fully matured ice materia stone. It struck the dragon in the throat, stopping its flaming breath as it reeled back, roaring in pain. Vincent chambered another bullet, his steady eye and inhuman strength allowing him to easily aim the rifle one-handed. The wounded and enraged dragon lowered its head, eyes blazing in the darkness as it regathered itself to throw its flame. Vincent fired again, the bullet a moment late, rocketting through the wall of flame to strike its target even as Vincent closed his eyes, not even bracing himself against the pain of the fire as it washed over him.
He gave no cry as his mind registered the sensation of his skin curling and peeling against the unbearable heat, the sickly sweet smell of his own burning flesh, the roaring sound of the flames around him. He had suffered such injuries so many times it had become a matter of clinical analysis rather than experience. He suffered a mortal injury, but he was immortal. His part in this fight was over. His body never even fell, it simply became immaterial, golden light sucking him away from consciousness as his protector from beyond the realm of the human came to take his place.
Seifer stood, swinging Hyperion back to its place at his side. "Very well, Chaos." He held his palm out towards the demon. "We are joined." The air crackled as he drew the demon into his mind, giving it place in his thoughts to complete the merger. He felt it curl into him like a searing bolt of lightning but held his ground, unflinching, letting the transfer become complete. Without warning the air seemed to split around him. Chaos?!
I am.. here.. I cannot seperate now lest I kill you, but I cannot stay.
What's happening, Chaos? I've junctioned with guardian forces before, but-- Seifer's panicked thoughts were cut off by a sudden sense of being pulled. He desperately tried to resist it. CHAOS?!
I am summoned.
Seifer felt himself tumbling through a void. Stars and worlds spun around him as intense cold drove into his flesh. It lasted less than a second, half a heartbeat. Blinding green light surrounded him and the cold vanished, leaving him floating in a stream of energy that knocked him about like a piece of debris. Chaos! Where am I?
He closed his eyes, seeing a dragon before him in his mind, watching as Chaos's saber shattered into it. The saber was immediately followed by the Satan Slam. He saw what he had been unable to during his own battle with the demon, the earth rising under the dragon in the shape of a skull, smoke and flame wreathing out of the eyes and mouth. The dragon collapsed in instant death, flaming skulls raining down on its lifeless corpse. Seifer swallowed, realizing how close he had come to meeting the same fate.
As the vision faded he struggled to figure out what had happened. The guardian forces were not from his world, he knew. Chaos had said he was summoned. Had he been summoned by someone on another world just at the same moment as he was making the bond with Seifer? In such a tenuous state it was conceivable that Seifer had been dragged with the demon to answer the call, but it still didn't answer the question of where he was and why he wasn't with Chaos. When summoned the guardian forces would wrap their joined humans in the protection of their dimension, but this was nothing like the void he was used to experiencing. This was very much something, an energy he could sense, could feel and see, and hear.
Seifer opened his eyes again, realizing there were voices all around him. He struggled to make out the words. They seemed to echo and ebb. "What? I can't understand you." Anger. They were angry with him, with his intrusion. He didn't belong there. "I didn't come here on my own, damnit! I don't even know where I am!" Chaos!
I am here again, Seifer. You cannot stay here.
Seifer felt a wave of anger wash over him. Where the fuck is here? I'll leave if you just show me how!
You are in the Lifestream. It is not meant for those whose souls still reside in living flesh.
Whatever. Get me out.
Chaos chided Seifer without words, merely a mental growl. Extend your mind toward me. I cannot enter the Lifestream myself. You must come quickly, though. The energy around you is poison to living flesh.
Seifer closed his eyes, concentrating on Chaos's thoughts, mentally drawing himself closer to the demon. He felt himself rushing upwards, the energy becoming less and less intense around him. His head broke above it and he threw his hand up, reaching for anything solid. A clawed hand grasped his, yanking him free. Cold air, humid and smelling of stone, gave him the impression of a cavern before a sickening wave of nausea swept over him. He felt himself lowered gently to hard stone. Help me, Chaos. I can feel the poison now. I can't move.
No mere spell can help you, child. It is beyond me.
Seifer slipped into unconsciousness as the energy coursed through his body.
Vincent stumbled as his body was returned to him, something at his feet. He was several hundred feet from the point where he had been taken over by Chaos, which in itself was odd. Usually the demons returned him to the exact spot where he had been injured. He could feel his body regenerating, feeding on the energy of the demons. He would be healed in a matter of minutes.
He crouched down to see what was in front of him, his hand touching warm skin. His felt for a neck, finding a pulse under his sensitive fingertips, but one that betrayed little life. He frowned, then concentrated, drawing energy from his materia stones to cast a cure spell.
That won't help him, Vincent.
Vincent furrowed his brow. It was seldom that his demons disturbed him while he was awake. What is it then, Chaos?
Mako energy poisoning. The demon of judgement, usually as unemotional as his host, had a tone of concern. Help him.
...I'm not a doctor. Even if I was there would be little that I could do.
Help him, insisted the demon, his thoughts taking on a growl. You know what can save his life. The scientist used mako to make his Soldiers, just as he used mako on you and on the child you protect.
You ask me to interfere with another human, to play God as Hojo did?
Chaos hissed his anger in Vincent's mind. He is here because you summoned me as I was on his world, bonding with him. Will you save his life or will you have his blood on your hands, Vincent Valentine? Vincent closed his eyes, seeing the images of a young man torn from his world as Chaos replayed them for his mind. The demon's anger was palpable. He is dying as we argue the point. Help him or you will see his death every time you close your eyes. Yet another nightmare added to those you already face.
Silence! I need no more guilt, Chaos. Vincent lifted the limp body of the young man with his clawed gauntlet, scarcely straining at his weight as he draped him over his shoulder. Hanging his rifle at his side, he turned swift and silent footsteps toward home.
Sephiroth walked out of the kitchen as he heard the front door of the mansion open and close. "Welcome back, father. I think I'm starting to get the hang of this. Try this spaghetti sauce and tell me what.. you.. think...." He trailed off as he caught sight of Vincent, a stranger over his shoulder. "What happened?"
Vincent carried the young man up the stairs to one of the guest rooms. "He's dying of mako poisoning."
Sephiroth trailed after the dark-haired man, dripping sauce from the spoon in his hand. "Mako poisoning? What exactly are you planning to do?" Vincent didn't reply immediately, dropping his burden on a bed. Sephiroth stepped into the room, putting the spoon down on the dresser to help out. Vincent was gentle, but somewhat hindered by having only one hand. Sephiroth lifted the young man's head to tuck a pillow under it. "Father?"
Vincent stepped back, letting Sephiroth take care of their comatose guest. "I can't do anything. My condition could kill him as surely as the mako. You will need to provide him with what he needs."
Sephiroth looked up at Vincent sharply. "Make him a Soldier? Father, I thought you were morally opposed to tampering with humans."
Vincent raised his glowing red eyes to Sephiroth's vibrant green ones. "He will die otherwise. I do not want the blood of another innocent on my hands."
"What do you mean?"
Vincent turned away. "I have no time to explain now. He's dying, Sephiroth. Do it or don't."
"It could kill him, you know, father. It could make him a mindless monster in a mutated body. Or leave him like it did Cloud, with his mind fractured. Not everyone is strong enough to survive the making."
"I know the risks. Chaos assures me he is more than strong enough." Vincent looked over his shoulder at the young man on the bed. "Are you going to save him?"
Sephiroth studied Vincent's face for a moment. He owed this man so much. His life, his sanity, his only safe refuge in this world now. He gave a bare nod as he stood, walking out of the room. "I'll try."
Vincent examined the features of the young man now that he was visible by normal light. He was barely a man, perhaps younger than Sephiroth, but many younger than that had been made into Soldiers. Cloud had been no more than fifteen or sixteen, but although he had survived the procedure, he had been left shattered, unfit to serve as a true Soldier, yet still powerful enough to lead the resistance against the possessed Sephiroth.
He appeared physically strong enough, muscular, well-conditioned, although his clothes were shredded by recent battle. Whatever wounds he had suffered had been healed, even the scars beginning to fade, leaving only one long scar on his forehead, a much older wound. He was human, yet an alien. Chaos had said he was from another world. He looked nothing like an alien with his short blond hair, high cheekbones and forehead, holding a certain beauty, albeit an entirely masculine one. He could easily pass for one from this world but for the curious weapon still attached to his belt. It appeared to be a blend of both automatic handgun and sword. Vincent was acutely familiar with all kinds of weapons, but he had never seen anything remotely like the black blade with the pistol grip.
Vincent looked to the door as Sephiroth returned, the younger immortal carrying Masamune, his deadly sword. It was of a length that would be ungainly in any hands but the Jenova mutant's. He handled it as if it were merely an extension of himself, the way Vincent handled a rifle with only his one good hand. Sephiroth avoided Vincent's eyes as he sat down on the edge of the bed, flipping the blade over so that it faced upwards. He swallowed once, exhaled slowly, then drew his wrist over the razor sharp edge, crimson flowing to stain the bright silver metal. Moving the sword out of the way, Sephiroth leaned forward, placing his cut wrist to the lips of the comatose man, letting his blood flow into his mouth through slightly parted lips. After a few moments he pulled it back, whispering a cure spell from his materia to close the wound.
"Now, we wait." Sephiroth tucked a strand of loose silver hair behind his ear. "He won't wake up for hours if he makes it."
"He'll make it." Vincent strode from the room silently.
Sephiroth gazed after the man he called father, not even willing to hazard a guess as to the thoughts in the older man's mind and knowing intuitively that any intrusion on them would be unwelcome at this time. He sighed and laid Masamune gently on the floor to tend to their guest, standing to fetch a washcloth and basin from the bathroom. Dinner would be late, if Vincent bothered to show at all.
