Disclaimer - I don't own any of the characters from FFVII, as much as I wish I did.
AN - You know, this originally started out as something in my head . . . and things just sort of went down hill from there. Now it's 17 pages long typed on my computer, and I'm scared. Talk about your mind running away with your fingers : ) Well, anyway, enjoy, and please review when you are done. Give me the nerve to post the other FFVII fic I'm working on : ) And yes, I know Seph is ooc from the game . . . I really don't think he was a cold bastard all the time . . . besides, this is before the Nibleheim event, as I said, so : P
Chapter 3 -Clubbing
Sephiroth stepped into the club, wincing as the noise levels assaulted his sensitive hearing. The air was warm and humid . . . the result of too many human bodies pressed and sweating in such a confined space. A hand planted in his back shoved him forward, propelling him into the darker recesses of the club. He turned to glare at Zack, who smiled innocently and continued to shove him forward. He found himself suddenly immersed in warm, moving bodies, Zack still at his back, propelling him towards the bar and the tables that surrounded it. He sighed, allowing Zack to maneuver him across the dance floor like a human shield. Why did he ever agree to this? Because Zack wouldn't have left him alone otherwise, he knew. His lieutenant could be stubborn like that at times . . . especially when it came to drawing him out of his self-imposed isolation.
Finally they reached an empty table, and Sephiroth visibly relaxed. Being around so many people . . . being casually touched, even unconsciously . . . it was setting every alarm in his head off at an alarming rate. He'd never been into being touched . . . mainly because while he was growing up, every touch had meant pain in some form or the other. It had taken Zack a long time to get him to stop flinching from every casual gesture, and he still tensed to run whenever anyone got too close or too friendly. It helped that there were very few people who would dare to touch him anyway.
He sank down into the chair gratefully, his casual sprawl done with his usual elegant arrogance and natural grace. Across from him, Zack chuckled quietly.
"You look like you just ran the longest race of your life," he smirked, unfazed by the glare that got directed his way.
"This will take some getting used to . . . you know how much I hate being touched," he grumbled, glancing out at the packed dance floor.
"It won't kill you, Seph. Not all contact hurts," Zack murmured.
"Yes, I know that . . . but teaching my mind that and re-programming ingrained instincts isn't just casual work." He snorted. "You can hardly say I don't have reason."
"I know you have reason . . . but it was a long time ago. You're a SOLDIER now, and out from under Hojo's care. You've got to get over what he did to you sometime, Seph, and live your life. It's not healthy to remain alone." Zack winced at how harsh he sounded. That was not the way he wanted to start this night off.
Sephiroth nodded, watching the press of bodies out on the dance floor. He knew what Zack said was the truth, but it didn't make it any easier. He would always be the outsider, the one who was different, the one who didn't fit in. He'd come to accept that, on some level, and knew that, although Zack was trying, he wouldn't succeed as fully as he hoped. In some small way, Sephiroth knew that he just wasn't meant to be like other humans . . . he wasn't meant to find a woman, marry, and settle down. He would always be alone . . . Hojo had taught him that fairly well. No one wanted a freak and a science experiment for a life-mate. Hell, he was surprised Zack was his friend. It still startled him on occasion, how fully Zack accepted him as he was. Perhaps Zack was a unique person that way.
He was pulled out of his musing by a mug being set down on the table in front of him. He glanced at it, then raised an eyebrow in Zack's direction, quietly querying his friend as to what was up.
"It's called a White Russian, whatever the hell that is. Sounded good to me, and I know you don't like beer," Zack replied, taking a gulp from his own mug. He knew he didn't have to worry about Sephiroth getting drunk. The man couldn't, even if he tried . . . which he had done once, actually. Zack remembered the night vividly. It was the only night he'd ever seen Sephiroth break under the stress of the job, and had been the beginning of their friendship.
*Flashback*
He knocked on the door softly, stuffing the files under his arm. When there was no answer, he pushed gently, surprised when the door opened inwards under his soft touch. He stepped inside carefully, noting the non-existent lighting. He knew the General had come up here, and he wanted to get him these files on their next assignment as fast as he could. He deposited the files on a nearby table, and went in search of his errant superior.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he finally saw him, lounging in the window seat, staring down silently at the bustling upper plate below. He was clad in only his pants and boots, the Masamune resting on the floor nearby, a bottle of liquor dangling half empty from his hand. Several other bottles, already empty, lay scattered on the floor nearby.
"Sir?" he called softly, trying not to startle the man. Who knew what he would do with that sword if he was drunk and surprised?
"Did you ever wonder . . . why it is that humanity carries on, even in the face of no hope?" the man whispered. Now that Zack was closer, he could see the blood tracing over his superior's arms, and lining the blade of his sword. Concerned, he stepped nearer, stopping as mako eyes turned to stare at him silently before returning to the scene out the window.
"Sir . . .?" he asked quietly, sensing that somehow his superior was opening up in a way no one had seen before.
"I'm tired . . . of everything. Of having to order men into battle to die . . . of causing death myself. It never seems to end." He held up his hands, staring at them as if they were somehow new and unrecognizable. "How many lives have I ended . . . how much blood stains these hands? How many more lives will fall to my blade by the will of Shin-Ra?" He sighed, his hands dropping back into his lap, the bottle of liquor forgotten where it had fallen. "I wish I could just make it all go away . . . but Hojo managed to deny me even that satisfaction. I heal too quickly for any damage I deal to do the job." Zack gasped as he put the pieces together. The man who he so admired . . . the man who no one knew, who had no emotions . . . had tried to kill himself? Bending down, he picked up the blade and dragged it to the couch, then returned to move the empty bottles to the trash receptacle. Returning, he stared down at his superior, wondering how drunk the man was.
"I'm not drunk," the reply startled him. Could he read minds? "I can't even do that to escape this hell. My metabolism is too high . . . and my genetic makeup too abnormal." He chuckled to himself. "There is no escape for me . . . not ever. I am what I was bred to be . . . what I was created to be. This is my life . . . this is my hell." He turned to stare up at Zack, his eyes dark with emotions that the lieutenant couldn't put label to.
"This surprises you, doesn't it? That I'm not as perfect as everyone seems to think . . ." He smiled in self mockery.
"No sir. Everyone has to have a breaking point . . . you just happened to have hit yours. Perhaps . . . perhaps you should rest now?" Zack murmured. He was surprised when the general nodded slightly.
"Perhaps you are right." Sighing, he stood, and moved towards his room. Suddenly, he stumbled, something Zack thought the man could never do. He went down hard on one knee, his back hunched in pain, as if waiting for some blow to fall. Striding swiftly to his side, Zack lifted an arm around his shoulders and helped him to his feet and over to his bed. Setting his superior down on the side of the bed, he pulled back the covers, then assisted the man into bed, pulling off his boots before covering him carefully with the blanket.
"Goodnight Sir," he murmured, starting towards the door to the bedroom.
"Sephiroth."
"What sir?" he queried from the doorway, turning to stare at the sprawled figure behind him.
"My name . . . is Sephiroth. Not sir. Please," the figure murmured.
"Well, goodnight . . . Sephiroth."
*End Flashback*
That had been over two years ago now. Since then, their friendship had developed far beyond the rank structure imposed by SOLDIER, to the point where Zack was the only person Sephiroth saw during his off hours. Mainly, it was due to Zack's stubborn refusal to leave the man alone, to allow him to sink back into the depths of self-hatred he was usually wrapped up in. Zack continuously pestered and prodded him, while never stepping beyond his boundaries as lieutenant if there was anyone else around during duty hours. He never really did know why Sephiroth had chosen to open up to him, of all people, but he was honored and grateful to have the man as a friend.
He studied the man silently as Sephiroth stared out at the dance floor. Although he only knew bits and pieces of the man's past, he knew enough to feel genuine sympathy for his friend. Growing up under that freak Hojo had to be bad enough . . . but to be experimented on day after day as well? It was a wonder to him that Sephiroth was even remotely capable of interacting with the rest of humanity at a normal level. Although he didn't know what those experiments had consisted of, he had some idea. Sephiroth often had nightmares, and Zack had often heard him pleading in his sleep for Hojo to stop some cruel torture or another. 'The man really is a mystery . . . and I'm his best friend!' he mused once again. He came out of his thoughts to find Sephiroth staring at him curiously. He shrugged and grinned, glancing out at the dance floor, quickly spotting a couple of good looking girls who were eyeing him. Knowing that it would be too much to ask to get Sephiroth on the dance floor, he stood and headed that way, knowing his friend would know what was going on.
Sephiroth grinned slightly and shook his head as he watched Zack make his way over to the girls who had been ogling him for the past five minutes. Leaning back in his chair, he signaled the waitress for another drink, watching the press and flow of bodies as the music pulsed and hammered out it's rhythm. He never understood what people found so relaxing about dancing. But then, many people didn't understand what he found relaxing in performing his kata's with the Masamune. He supposed the two were along the same lines . . . although he wasn't terribly positive about that.
He started and nearly lunged out of his chair as a feminine hand came down on his shoulder. He turned, glaring up at the woman as she withdrew her hand and smiled at him teasingly.
"Hi. I'm Melly. You look lonely." She stood with a hand on her hip, trying to look both seductive and innocent at once. Her dress was so tight it was like a second skin, and her hair was so teased it looked like a mushroom poof. Sephiroth snorted and glanced away. When she didn't move, he turned back to her.
"I'm not lonely."
"You sure look like it to me, honey. Why don't you let me keep you company?" she simpered. Behind his glasses, he rolled his eyes. This woman was absolutely disgusting to him.
"Oh, for Planet's sake, Melly, leave the guy alone. I realize you're looking for a new victim since Rick found out how much of a whore you are, but geesh." Out of the crowd emerged a ebony haired woman, her legs encased in black jeans, a fish net shirt over a black cut off encasing her upper torso. Her hands were stuffed in her pockets, her attitude one of relaxed indifference. She stopped a few feet from the lounging Sephiroth and stared at 'Melly' with icy contempt.
Melly gasped and turned several shades of purple before storming off in a huff. Sephiroth stared up at his 'savior' as she watched Melly storm off before looking back at him.
"Sorry about that. She's been on the prowl for a new piece of ass all night, and you looked like you could use the help." She stuck out her hand suddenly. "I'm Lissa . . . Lissa Martel." He took her hand hesitantly.
"Se . . .ummm . . Phiro," he murmured, shaking her hand before releasing it suddenly. He stared up at her. She reminded him of someone . . . from his past . . . but he'd be damned if he could think of who. It was almost like a half remembered dream. Her ebony hair hung in a loose braid down her back, her fists encased in fingerless gloves, her boots worn but sturdy. He shook himself as he realized he was studying her. What had gotten into him all of the sudden? It wasn't like him to stare at a woman and take in every tiny detail about her. "Thank you for that . . . ummm . . . timely rescue."
"Oh, it was nothing. I consider it my duty to warn every guy she goes for . . . after all, my boyfriend was one of many to fall for her tricks. You mind if I sit down and grab a drink? I'm dying of thirst after dancing for so long." Sephiroth nodded towards Zack's empty chair, inviting her to sit wordlessly as he signaled to the waitress. The waitress came, took Lissa's order, and left, leaving the two alone in a comfortable silence. Sephiroth spied Zack in the crowd, dancing energetically with three different girls . . . all of whom would be left with their hearts broken at the end of the night. Zack was already attached to a young girl by the name of Aeris . . . and Sephiroth knew he would rather rip his own heart out then hurt her. But, to keep up the SOLDIER image, he played just as much as any other . . . but it never got remotely serious.
"That your friend?" Lissa asked, looking in the direction Sephiroth was staring. He nodded wordlessly, turning back to face her. "Not a bad guy . . . seen him around here a number of times. He's supposed to be the second in command to General Sephiroth . . ." She looked at him questioningly. "You in SOLDIER too?"
"You could say that, yes," he replied.
"So . . . what you think of him?" she asked. Sephiroth glanced at her curiously. "About General Sephiroth I mean."
"Well . . ." Now this was interesting. What to say about himself that wouldn't give himself away?
"You know . . . I think underneath that cold exterior is a heart that beats just like everyone else. I mean, the man must be hurting inside . . . all the killing he has to do for Shin-Ra and stuff. I wonder if anyone has ever thought to just be his friend? I doubt he even has any . . . guys like him would be too overwhelmed by people wanting to be near him to bask in his fame and glory." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she stared into the crowd. "You'd never find him at a place like this, I'll bet. He probably works all the time to keep himself company." He snorted, bringing her attention back to him abruptly. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm rambling on, aren't I? So, what do you think of him?"
"I think . . . you would be surprised, in a way," he murmured, staring out into the sea of people. "The General is just very careful about who he trusts . . . but you're right about people wanting to bask in his glory. He gets it all the time, and it disgusts him. He feels . . . a lot of things, but bottle's it up inside. There's more to him than a lot of people know . . . or care to find out, for that matter." He turned to find her gazing at him in speculation.
"You sound like you've met him."
"I see him quite often." 'Yeah, every time I look in the damn mirror!' he sighed to himself. He was amazed at how insightful she had been into his character.
"Well, thanks for the seat and the drink, Phiro. Maybe I'll see you again sometime." With a backward glance and a wave over her shoulder, she headed back into the crowd, disappearing from his sight quickly. As soon as she was gone, Zack appeared.
"Well?" he demanded, flopping down in the recently vacated seat and staring at Sephiroth pointedly.
"Well what?" he questioned, still staring off to where Lissa had disappeared.
"Who was the chick, and when you gonna meet her?" He started as Sephiroth chuckled softly.
"Her name was Lissa, and she was just . . . rescuing me from some unwanted attention. Get your mind out of the gutter, Zack," he said, turning to look at his friend.
"Well, I can hope, can't I?" Zack sighed, slumping in his chair.
"Missing Aeris?" Sephiroth asked gently.
"Yeah . . . think I'm gonna swing by her church before I head home . . .see if I can catch her tending her flowers. Think you can handle getting out of here on your own?" Sephiroth nodded and waved him off. "Thanks Seph."
"Just get the hell outta here already Zack. I think I'm big enough to take care of myself now." Zack grinned at him and headed for the door, Sephiroth staring after him in amusement. Oh yeah, Zack was totally hooked on this Aeris girl. He sighed, shaking his head. Now that Zack was gone . . . he could get himself out of here and retreat back to his suite . . . and his natural hair color. Standing slowly, he began to make his way towards the exit, when a yell from the dance floor caught his attention. Glancing over in that direction, he saw people scattering from the floor to the sidelines.
"Looks like a fight . . ." he murmured. He caught a flash of familiar blonde hair. "And it looks my new recruits are involved in it." Sighing, he turned back, and steeled himself to wade into the crowd so he could keep an eye on things.
As he neared, it looked like the recruits were holding their own . . . four of them against six burly guys. That was, until someone pulled a knife. Sephiroth spied the metallic glint easily, and decided it might be time he stepped in. One recruit was already down with a severe arm wound, and another went down as he arrived, holding his stomach in both hands as blood seeped through to drip on the floor below. He stepped up behind Cloud, catching the boy by the shoulder and spinning him into the crowd. Cloud stared up at him in shock.
"Get your wounded friends outside for transport back to quarters. I'll finish up here."
"But . . ."
"That's an order, recruit," he snapped, forgetting that they didn't know who he was. Surprisingly, they still listened, picking up their friends and dragging them off towards the door. Sephiroth turned to face the opposing men, and grinned mockingly. Taking off his darkened glasses, he shoved them in a pocket, eyeing the competition thoughtfully. 'This will be too easy,' he sighed, and readied himself for them to make the first move.
"You one of them SOLDIER pussies too, eh? Figures you'd travel in packs."
"Let me guess, SOLDIER are pussies cause they wouldn't accept you . . ." Sephiroth sneered. "Well, I can see why they wouldn't . . . they don't take walking trash." The man snarled and charged him . . . and found himself flying through the air into a wall as Sephiroth used his own momentum to fling him over the crowd.
The remaining men swarmed him, and Sephiroth was actually tempted to laugh. He sank to one knee, his right leg kicking out to crash into a knee, his fist burying itself in the gut of another. He swept the legs out from under the third, rising swiftly to his feet to catch the arm of a fourth, twisting it until it snapped under his hands. The man screamed in agony and dropped to the floor, cradling his shattered arm to his chest, allowing his last remaining compatriot to get a really good look at their opponent . . . just as a fist smashed into his nose. With all the men down and moaning on the dance floor, Sephiroth dusted his hands off and walked away, oblivious to the stunned looks that followed him. He was unaware of the fact that he had been moving so fast he had been nothing but a blur to mortal eyes.
"Wow," Cloud panted, catching up to him as he exited the dance floor. "That was incredible." Sephiroth glanced down at him, then turned his attention back to where he was going.
"You're friends are outside?"
"Yes. But, we don't know how we're going to get them back to headquarters. . ."
"We'll carry them. I'll carry one, you and your unwounded friend will carry the other . . . but first we need to get them healed." He pulled a materia bracer out of his pocket, slipping it onto his wrist easily. Somehow, he'd known going out with Zack would end with him needing some of his materia.
He turned to find Cloud staring at the bracer, and he raised an eyebrow in question.
"That's . . . those are MASTERED!?" Cloud asked in awe.
"Yes . . ." He kneeled down swiftly, summoning a Cure 3 from his mastered heal materia easily. He watched as the gut wound healed quickly, leaving unmarred skin and a shirt soaked in blood. The guy was out cold, however. The arm wound was just as easily dealt with, but they found once he was healed, he could walk. Sephiroth swung the unconscious recruit over his shoulder, and signaling to the others, set off towards the train station to catch their ride back up to the upper plate.
Sephiroth sighed when they finally returned to the Shin-Ra building. The night had been annoying at best . . . although the fight had been amusing. Zack was gonna pay for this one. He fingered his black hair in annoyance. "After, of course, I get this shit out of my hair," he mumbled. He couldn't help remembering the sentiments Cloud and Lissa had expressed though. Perhaps there were some people out there who could see beyond the mask he showed to the world . . . and who didn't really care about his fame and money. This would require a lot of thought.
