Disclaimer - I don't own FFVII or any of the characters . . . but Seph is my muse, so leave him alone : )
AN - my newest piece, and still in progress. I'm actually rewriting it from what I originally had. Sephiroth may seem a bit OC . . . this is how I see him if he could have had a chance at life without anyone messing with his head and crap. And, hey, it's fan fiction, so I can make him act as I wish him to, yes? Anyway, hope you enjoy, and please review.
Due to a mishap, Jenova's voice talking is now surrounded by a * . . .*
Chapter 1 - Beginning Anew
He crouched on a hill overlooking Midgar, noting absently the damages caused by Meteor and the Weapons.
'Another sin laid at my feet . . .' he thought darkly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. 'I wonder how many innocents lost their lives in that folly of mine.' In the weeks it had taken him to get here, he'd had a lot of time for thought . . . none of it pretty. 'So much wasted time . . . so many wasted lives because of me.' He growled at his turn of thought, shoving it brutally away to turn back to the matter at hand. Pulling a mirror from the pack on the ground nearby, he scrutinized his reflection, carefully searching it to be sure everything about his disguise was in place. Walking around with platinum hair and mako eyes would give him away in a heart beat, considering how well known . . . and despised . . . he had been, so he'd taken steps to cover up those two most obvious indicators. His hair now hung in dark ebony locks . . . although he had refused to cut it. Having sharp objects anywhere near his neck had always made him nervous, and as much as he hated to admit he had such a weakness, his hair was his one vanity. His eyes were carefully hidden behind a pair of special lenses he'd picked up. They still glowed, but they were now violet, not the usual blue/green that unnerved people. He snorted in disgust at the dirt and grime that smudged his face . . . he was usually very picky about being clean, but he couldn't afford to stop and take a bath before he walked into Midgar . . . that would have to wait until later.
"It will just have to do," he sighed, putting the mirror away. He stood slowly, shouldering the pack absently as he tried to determine the quickest path to the wreckage of the Shin-Ra Corporate Headquarters. The less people he ran into, the less likely his disguise would fail. Black pants hugged his muscular legs, the rough cloth feeling strange after his usual leather. He ran his fingers absently across the white shirt he wore, feeling the calluses of his hands catch slightly on the cotton. The only things that remained of his former self were the leather trench coat and his boots, although without his trademark platinum hair and the Masamune, he doubted they would be enough to tip anyone off. Especially since he'd removed and discarded the armored pauldrons he usually wore. Of course, he was about to walk into the remains of the city that had been his base of operations for a long time . . .
*This would be so much easier if you would just open up and cooperate . . .*
"Never again, Jenova. You had your chance, and it is over. Now I need to pick up the pieces you left me of my life."
'What few there are, that is,' he sighed to himself. He hadn't realized just how much of his life Jenova had influenced until he had arrived here. Even his involvement in SOLDIER had been Jenova's doing, in a way . . . preparation for his body to be strong enough to carry out her will.
'Where would I have gone . . . what could I have done with my life after escaping Hojo if not for Jenova's influence?' he wondered again. It was strange to suddenly be bereft of everything that had held meaning in one's life, to say the very least. It was even stranger to realize that those same things had only been shadow's of someone . . . or rather, something . . . else's will.
He shook his head abruptly to rid himself of such never ending thoughts, his now ebony bangs brushing gently against his face with the movement. There was no sense to pondering what could have been. What had happened had been as much his fault for being weak as it had been Hojo's and Jenova's, no matter how he looked at it.
Looking down at Midgar's remains, he determined the quickest way to his target would be through what was left of the slums. There had been a quick route from there to the upper plate that would put him close to the remains of the building, one that only the higher ups of the company had known of. That meant it would be unused, and therefore, would mean less people for him to have to deal with. Picking his way down the hill carefully, he strode towards the gate into Midgar with the air of a man on a mission.
*You fool. The first time it rains someone will know who you are and they will kill you.*
"Then I will just have to stay out of the rain, won't I?" he muttered under his breath, casting a quick glance up at the sky. No clouds present. He smiled grimly as that thought brought to mind another "cloud". 'I wonder where they all went after they destroyed Jenova's body . . .' he mused. 'Midgar was home to a few of them . . .'
*Hoping you'll run into them? Maybe so you can thank them for killing me? Don't be foolish . . . the minute they lay eyes on you, they'll know who you are and set out to kill you again. And get that insane idea out of your head that you can make restitution to them for all they've been through. It'll only end up signing your death warrant if you get anywhere near them.*
"Why so concerned, Jenova? It almost sounds like you care if they kill me. Wouldn't it be
easier if I was out of the way?" he murmured.
*You are still my best and brightest chance of obtaining my goals. Eventually, you will come back around to my way of thinking.*
He snorted in derision. "That is not likely to ever happen, no matter how much you wish it."
*We shall see.*
He pondered that rather cryptic remark. What was that demon thing planning this time? He hoped it wasn't anything he couldn't easily deal with. As far as he currently knew, he and Cloud were the only ones that remained with her cells in their bodies . . . and Cloud did not have enough for what Jenova needed. She needed someone who could act as a part of her, through which she could push all her considerable power and not cause damage. That meant he was the only one she had . . . unless there was another he did not know of. Perhaps that was what she meant . . . he only hoped he could find the information he needed in Hojo's files.
Deep in thought as he was, it was quite a while before he became aware of his surroundings once again. 'I need to stop doing that . . . losing myself in thought like that could be dangerous to my already limited health,' he reprimanded himself, looking around at his surroundings. He froze in shock as his eyes landed upon a nearby bar.
"Seventh Heaven? Wasn't that destroyed when Shin-Ra brought the plate down?" he murmured thoughtfully, staring at the building. A nearby pedestrian heard him, and grinned.
"Oy, yeah . . . that there is the new building. Those there heroes from AVALANCHE came back to Midgar after saving the planet and rebuilt it."
"AVALANCHE? They still exist then?" he asked curiously, his eyes locked on the building. The irony of the situation did not escape him. Here he was just thinking about his former enemies, and he ended up in front of the very building where they most likely were. Of all the places for his body to take him, it had to take him to the one area he needed to avoid.
"Well, of course they still exist. Have you been buried under a rock? Ms. Lockheart and Master Strife own that bar . . . the rest of them seem to come in and out a lot." The man was studying him closely, he could tell.
"I am new to Midgar. This is the first time I have been here in a long time," Sephiroth said coldly, not enjoying the sensation of being under a microscope. The man backed away from him slowly, his hands held up in front of him.
"I'm sorry Mister . . . didn't mean to insult ya or nuthin. Just thought everyone woulda known." The man walked hurriedly away, glancing over his shoulder repeatedly at the strange man, who still stood looking at the bar. 'What a strange fellow . . .' he thought to himself, before promptly forgetting his run in with the man as he remembered he still had to get the groceries his wife had requested.
Sephiroth stood still for a moment longer before curiousity got the better of him. As a child, he had recieved many a beating for being too curious about things he should not have been . . . this was no different. Ignoring Jenova, who was shrilly reminding him that he was supposed to be AVOIDING his former enemies, he walked into the bar. Finding a table situated in an dimly lit corner, he settled into a chair, his back to the wall, studying the bar's patrons carefully. He tried not to wince as Jenova's voice became louder, ringing in his head as she screamed at him for putting everything at risk for something so foolish as his curiousity.
'Shut up,' he thought back at her calmly. 'I will do as I wish, and there is not a damn thing you can do anymore to stop me. This is purely a test of my disguise . . . who better to test it on then those who hated me the most, and would know me anywhere otherwise?' With that, he planted a firm mental hold on her, and pushed her out of his thoughts entirely. 'Finally . . . alone in my own head . . . at least until she gets over her shock at my being able to do that,' he thought grimly. 'Planet, I wish she would shut up.'
He folded his hands in front of him on the table, the fingerless black gloves fitting like a second skin, hiding the black number 1 on the back of his right hand from sight. That mark alone would have been enough to damn him in this place above all. He'd already had to fend off questions about it on his way here. When asked, he'd calmly told the curious personage that it had been the only way his mother could keep track of all her children. He'd walked away from that lie with an unexplainable tightness in his chest. He had noticed that a lot lately . . . he was feeling emotions that he'd never dealt with before, and it made him feel . . . well, off balance. He had never been forced to face his lack of a conventional childhood so completely. His childhood . . . could it even be called that? He'd never been a child . . . not in the sense that one used the word. He'd been a lab rat, a specimen . . . never truly a child. Shin-Ra's prized possession . . . the super soldier that would become so much more. He snorted at his own thoughts. When would he stop dwelling on his past?
So lost in thought was he that he did not hear the waitress approach until she cleared her throat to get his attention. Startled, his hand shot for the gun strapped to his thigh, the gun he had bought early in his trip to Midgar. It had nearly cleared it's holster before he got control of his instincts again. He raised his eyes to the waitress, and barely managed to keep his shock from showing on his face. The woman wore a pair of black jeans with a red blouse . . . but Sephiroth could very easily recall the figure clad in tight black shorts and a white mid-cut shirt with suspenders. Tifa Lockheart . . . it seemed that the man on the street had been correct after all . . . AVALANCHE was still in Midgar. He carefully met her eyes and was relieved when he saw no hint of recognition in them. She was tense, as if prepared to dodge his weapon had he drawn it, but relaxed when she saw she had his attention.
"My apologies, miss. You startled me," he said quietly. Tifa waved his apology away absently and grinned at him.
"Not a problem. We get plenty of people in here like that . . . I'm used to it. But please, my name isn't miss . . . It's Tifa. Miss just sounds so old, and I don't think I've reached that point just yet," she replied, one hand braced on her hip. "Now . . . what can I get for you?"
"A bowl of your stew, and a mug of beer would be appreciated," he said, laying down the required gil from a pouch at his side. It would feel good to get some real food into his system . . . he'd been living off what he could pick up from hunting along the way, and his cooking skills lacked severely.
Tifa nodded and moved off through the tables, weaving gracefully around patrons and empty chairs alike on her way back to the bar. She quickly called into the kitchen for a bowl of stew, then turned to pour a mug of beer, thinking all the while. There was something familiar about this new patron . . . but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was his startling resemblance to Vincent . . . his hair was much longer, and his eyes were violet, not crimson . . . but physically, they could have been brothers. Shaking off her thoughts, she picked up the bowl of stew and carried both over to his table, setting them down in front of him before picking up the gil he had left out and heading back for the bar. His eyes had glowed . . . which meant he'd had repeated Mako exposure . . . possibly due to some time spent in SOLDIER. She'd have to ask Cloud about it when he got home that night.
Sephiroth ate in silence, listening carefully to the conversations around him. From what bits and snatches he could pick up, Midgar was under reconstruction . . . by a former Shin-Ra executive named Reeve. It sounded to him like this Reeve was one of the few decent individuals that had been working for Shin-Ra . . . and Cloud was working with him. That put at least two of his 'killers' in Midgar . . . but he couldn't find it in himself to be concerned. He didn't plan on staying in the area for long . . . only long enough to get the files from the Corporate computer, and maybe retrieve some of his personal belongings from his old suite, if anything remained. He sat back with his drink to watch the patrons, and Tifa.
Business appeared to be good for the little bar. Ms. Lockheart seemed healthy and happy . . . and she hadn't recognized him. Watching her as she served her patrons, he found himself remembering when he'd first met her in Nibelheim. She had been overly young then, terribly innocent and full of youth's idealism and belief in their own immortality. That was, until he'd slaughtered her father, left her for dead after attacking him, burned her town to the ground while slaughtering every last man, woman, and child . . . his mind shied away from those brutal memories. Contemplating his past crimes would get him no where now . . . he had too much to do to dwell on the past he wished he could erase.
Shaking his head at his own idiocy, he stood slowly, preparing to leave and find lodging for the night. Before he could move, however, a group of men walked in, catching his attention as warning bells went off in his head. He sat back down silently, fading into the shadows as he watched them take a table off to one side of the bar. He sensed trouble . . . but what could they want with such a little bar? It couldn't be making enough money for it to be worth their effort to rob, could it? He maintained his vigil on the group as closing time neared, nursing his one mug of beer as he sat back. Patrons began to trickle out in ones and two's . . .but the men made no move to leave. He found himself wondering why he cared . . . his mind provided him an answer readily enough. Tifa was one of the people he had wronged so horribly . . . and one of the few actually still alive. Perhaps this could begin his repayment for that horror . . . and even though he was a monster, he still had a code of honor, tattered and beaten as it was. He couldn't leave a woman in distress . . . and from the looks of it, Tifa was going to be in for a whole lot of distress.
Finally, there was just the group of men, Tifa, and Sephiroth left in the bar, Tifa having dismissed the other waitresses nearly an hour ago. Sephiroth tensed and faded further back into the shadows as one of the men stood, and locked the door to the street. The other four stood and approached the bar, where Tifa was busily cleaning glasses for the next day.
"It's time for you to pay up, Ms. Lockheart. You've managed to keep from paying for a couple of months now, but your friends aren't here to help you tonight." Tifa turned to glare at the man, her hands fisted on her hips. 'They had to choose tonight . . .' she thought to herself as she eyed the man over the counter. Reeve had kept Cloud late tonight, and Barrett had gone to Costa Del Sol with Marlene for a week on vacation. Vincent was off wandering the remains of Shin-Ra's corporate tower . . . which left her the only fighter in the house. She swore under her breath, and lunged for her gloves. Unfortunately, the man was faster then she had thought he was, judging him by his size as she had. She found herself hauled bodily over the bar and into the air by her wrists, feet dangling off the floor by a good foot. She kicked out, but hit nothing but air as the group laughed at her efforts.
"Now, now, Ms. Lockheart . . ." the man said, "Perhaps, if you are not willing to pay in gil for the protection we offer this sector . . . you could pay in other things." He grabbed her breast roughly through her shirt as she squirmed and glared daggers at him.
"Get your filthy hands off me, you son of a Zolom! I told you we don't need your so called protection, and I meant it. We're not paying you to think you run this sector, jackass!" She kicked out again, hoping against hope that she would connect with something, but the gods of luck weren't with her tonight, it seemed.
"Please, Ms. Lockheart . . . do continue fighting. I like my women with some spirit." He brought her in towards him, intent on kissing her brutally. He froze as a gunshot rang out, and one of his men dropped to the floor, gripping his leg as blood spurted out from his destroyed knee cap. "What the hell . . ." he growled, dropping Tifa to turn towards the source of the bullet. He found himself facing burning violet eyes over the business end of a gun.
"I would suggest you leave . . . now," Sephiroth said quietly, his voice dripping with thinly veiled malice. He spared a glance towards Tifa, pleased to note that she didn't seem hurt, and was creeping behind the bar, presumably to retrieve the weapon she had gone for earlier. He turned his attention back to the thugs, smiling sardonically as they looked him over. 'Yes . . . that's right. Underestimate me . . . what you don't know can really kill you, you ignorant savages.'
"I don't know who you think you are buddy, but we run this sector. And you've just made some deadly enemies." Sephiroth actually laughed at this, his voice as cold as his eyes.
"Deadly enemies? I've seen flies that looked deadlier then you." He watched the man's face grow red in anger, and prepared himself for the charge. He would only be able to take down one with his gun . . . the others were going to be pure melee combat, and he wasn't entirely sure his body was up to it. 'My body had better be up to it.'
*WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? DO YOU WANT TO RUIN EVERYTHING? RISKING YOU LIFE FOR ONE OF YOUR KILLERS?!*
He winced as Jenova's shriek ricocheted around in his head, diverting his attention for a precious second that he didn't have. He missed his opportunity to fire before three men charged him, knocking his gun from his hand and slamming him back against the wall. Sephiroth grunted with the impact, but kept his wits about him. He dropped to his knees, only to roll to the side, coming up to the right of his attackers. He kicked out, his foot making solid contact with one of his opponents ribs. The sickening crunch seemed to echo in his ears as the man went down, blood bubbling from his nostrils.
'There went a lung," he noted absently, as he ducked a fist and jabbed his own into the genitals of a second opponent. The man went down like a sack of dirt, leaving Sephiroth with one opponent, who took a single look at his downed companions and decided he'd had enough, running for the door. Faster then any normal human could have moved, Sephiroth caught up to the man, helping him in his rush for the door by slamming him head first into it. The man bounced back, blood gushing down his face from where the blow had split open his skull.
Sephiroth spun to find Tifa , fighting gloves equipped, pummeling the final adversary into a pulp. Sephiroth retrieved his gun from where it had fallen, replacing it in it's holster as he watched Tifa knock the man unconscious. Walking over, he casually picked up the remaining conscious member . . . the one who's knee he had taken out earlier. Gripping him tightly by his throat, Sephiroth dangled him in the air, glaring up at him.
"Now . . . as I was saying . . . I would suggest you and your 'group' get over this infatuation with Ms. Lockheart and her 'protection'," he growled, shaking the man slightly, keeping in mind that he needed to appear of average strength. Striding over to the door, he unlocked it, and promptly tossed the man out. Retrieving the man's companions, they soon followed him out the door, Sephiroth casually tossing them into the street like the garbage they were. Once they were all outside, he turned to look at Tifa.
She was leaning up against the bar, watching him steadily. He nodded to her solemnly, and turned to step out the door. Her voice stopped him.
"Thank you," she whispered. "They caught me off guard."
"You should never be off guard, Ms. Lockheart. Especially not when you are alone," he said over his shoulder.
"It's been awhile since I had to fight . . . I guess I've gotten out of the habit of always being ready. But, anyway . . . thank you. For rescuing me." He shrugged, turning to look at her.
"It was nothing. I was in the right place at the right time." Violet eyes regarded her seriously. He could only admire her . . . here she had been about to be brutally ravaged by a pack of human scum, and she wasn't even shaking from shock 'An amazing young woman . . .' he thought to himself. 'Cloud should appreciate her.'
*Admiring, are we? You know you can never be anywhere a near a woman like her. You are not human . . . they would be disgusted by you.*
'Thank you so much for reminding me. I had nearly forgotten my place in the scheme of things,' he replied savagely in thought. The very last thing he ever needed to be reminded of was what he was . . . especially from the creature that was the very cause of his inhumanity.
"So, what do I call you?"Tifa asked, breaking into his thoughts.
"Seth,"he replied. "Just call me Seth."
"That's it? Just Seth? Most people have last names, you know." Sephiroth sighed, bowing his head in annoyance. He hadn't bothered with a last name . . . he'd never had one before, after all. He suspected Ms. Lockheart was stubborn enough to press him for one, however. 'I should just make some comment and walk out the door now . . . it will only complicate things further if I stay.' It seemed that fate had other plans for him, however, because his mouth supplied her a last name before he had even made a decision.
"Masamune. Seth Masamune," he murmured. He then called himself an idiot about a thousand times for answering her, and for the answer. Luckily, not many people had known the name of his sword, and he highly doubted Tifa was one of those few who did. His assumption was correct when she only nodded, showing no recognition of the name.
"Well then, Seth Masamune . . . thank you for your timely rescue, even if it was by chance." He nodded in reply, and turned to go. At that instant, a gun shot rang out, and he staggered slightly as his shoulder flamed with the impact of the bullet. He caught himself on the door frame, drawing his own gun and looking for the source of the unexpected attack. The man who's knee cap he had shattered stood unsteadily on one leg, holding a gun unsteadily in his hand.
"You missed," Sephiroth snarled, raising his own gun and sighting down the barrel with deadly intensity. "You have one chance to get the hell out of here before I blow you into the Lifestream, scum. I would take it, if I were you." A hand on his arm distracted him . . . long enough for the guy to stumble away as fast as he could go.
*I don't believe you! Have you lost your mind! That human was trying to kill you! If not for his unsteady hand, he would have hit your heart! You cannot survive everything, you stupid boy! And yet you let him go! You know he will be back!*
'I will not kill unless I am forced to. I have had enough of being a murderer.'
"Seth . . . Seth, are you alright?" Tifa's voice broke into his conversation.
"I am fine, Ms. Lockheart," he murmured, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. All he wanted now was to get out of here . . . he was already pushing his luck further then he had intended. Tifa wasn't fooled by his answer, however.
"Bullshit, mister. You need to get that treated . . . come on, I'll take care of it." She tugged him back into the bar, shutting the door firmly before directing him into a chair.
*This is dangerous, you moron. She'll see those scars, and you KNOW she's not stupid enough to not connect them with who you are . . . they are rather distinctive, you fool.*
'Shut up. You're not helping matters any by distracting me from getting out of here . . . I know she could recognize the scars. I'm not brain dead.'
*That I highly doubt. You were dumb enough to walk in here in the first place, and then rescue her. What happened to the Great General Sephiroth?*
'You killed him, Jenova. I am just another person now . . . and that is how I want it to be. I never asked to be the Great General . . . or the experiment.'
*You fool! You can't escape your past, and you can't escape who you are . . . WHAT you are! You are . . .*
'Not your pawn anymore. Now . . . SHUT . . . UP! Believe me, I will get out of here as soon as I can. I am not quite suicidal yet.'
"Seth . . . that wound must really hurt for you to make a face like that. Come on, let me see it . . . you should have stripped by now." Sephiroth arched an eyebrow in amusement as she blushed when she realized what she said. "I mean . . . ummm . . . oh, for heaven's sake, just take your damn coat and shirt off!" He couldn't help but grin slightly at her discomfort, and stood, shrugging out of his coat, but leaving his shirt on. He pulled down the shoulder of his shirt, baring the wound to her.
"The shirt has got to go too, you know."
"No it doesn't . . . you can see the wound quite clearly without me taking my shirt off." Something inside him made him add, "Unless, of course, you would like me to take it off for . . . other reasons." He winced as she cuffed the back of his head, but couldn't help keep the slight quirk of his lips from happening. He found he was enjoying this verbal sparring match . . . he'd never been able to do it with anyone before . . . well, other then Zack.
"I'm engaged, buddy, so get that thought right out of your head," she growled, before setting to work on his shoulder. He bore it stoically, wincing only slightly as she dug around for the bullet with her tweezers before getting a firm hold on it and pulling it out. He remained silent as she stitched the wound and bandaged it, his head bowed in concentration, hair pulled carefully to the side.
"You take pain surprisingly well," Tifa commented as she finished binding his shoulder and stepped back to look at her work. Sephiroth shrugged his shoulder, content that the bandage did not restrict his movement, and stood, carefully getting back into his coat.
"Pain is something you can learn to ignore, if you have suffered it enough," he murmured, retrieving his pack from the floor. He was slowly hoisting it over his shoulder, ready to finally leave this place that he should not linger in, when the bar's front door slammed open, and several people poured into the bar.
"TIFA!" Cloud shouted, before stumbling to a halt when he found her standing quietly beside a tall stranger, her face slightly amused.
"Yes Cloud?" She found herself suddenly caught up in a huge hug, and struggled to breathe. "Cloud . . . air . . ." she gasped.
"Oh . . . yeah. Sorry Teef," he muttered sheepishly, setting her back on her feet. He turned to look at the stranger, who was watching them with something akin to longing in his eyes. It was then that he noticed the blood. "Holy shit, Tifa, are you okay?"
Sephiroth watched them silently as Tifa hurried to reassure Cloud that none of the blood was hers. Was that what it was like to be cared for? A dull pain started in his chest, one that he steadfastly tried to ignore. He had been getting it a lot lately, and was still unsure of what to make of it. Condemned to live without love . . . without anyone ever truly caring for him . . . was he truly such a monster that he didn't deserve it? He pushed such sentimental and unnecessary thoughts from his head, choosing instead to focus on the people who had entered the bar with Cloud. One man, dressed in a business suit, he didn't recognize at all . . . but the other he knew very well indeed. His appearance had changed little . . . black clothes over which hung a cloak red as blood, a brass claw ending one arm, the other still-human hand resting on a gun at his hip. Violet eyes met glowing crimson in wary contemplation. Vincent Valentine . . . former Turk and fellow experiment, short term member of AVALANCHE . . . and one of his deadliest enemies, once upon a time. He was abruptly brought back to his current situation by two fingers snapping in front of his face.
"Planet to Seth, Planet to Seth . . . come on Seth, I know Vincent is a bit dark, but you don't need to stare so hard. He's really an okay guy," Tifa said, once she had his attention. Sephiroth glanced down at her, then turned his attention to Cloud, who stuck his hand out in greeting.
"Hiya. I'm Cloud, Tifa's fiancee and part owner of the bar. Thanks for helping her out . . . I had to stay late to work tonight." Sephiroth took his hand, shaking it once before releasing it.
"It was not a problem . . . I was already here. I could not just sit back and watch," he murmured. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable . . . there were just too many people who had known him as the insane killer in this one room for his liking. This was going far out of the way of his plans . . . and it looked to only be going further still. He knew he should get out of there . . . but something held him . . . some half formed hope buried deep in his heart that he could stay in this warm friendliness just a little while longer. It was all so new to him . . . he wanted to experience the warmth of acceptance, just once.
Vincent studied the stranger carefully, taking note of his tense stance and obvious discomfort. Something about him just seemed familiar . . . and certain things stood out in Vincent's mind that didn't add up to the picture. The man was tall . . . at least as tall as he was, and well muscled, which seemed to state that he was used to fighting for his life. But his musculature didn't match up to his choice in weapons . . . he had the build of a man who used a sword, not a gun, and this was what set alarm bells off in Vincent's head. Something didn't feel right . . . the man was hiding something, but what? And why would he be so uncomfortable in their presence? Vincent hated puzzles . . . especially when said puzzles had just saved one of his friends.
"Cloud . . . they're getting worse. They knew you and the guys wouldn't be here tonight . . . that means they've been watching the place. Maybe it's time we did what we discussed a couple of weeks ago," Tifa was saying. "With Barrett out of town right now, and you working late with Reeve . . . that only leaves Vincent, and he shouldn't have to baby sit me. He's got his own things to do . . ." Cloud sighed and ran a hand through his unruly spikes of hair, making them stand up worse.
"Alright Teef . . . I don't like it, but you're right. They're getting more dangerous . . . you got anyone in mind for the position?" Giggling, Tifa reached over and poked Sephiroth in the chest. Sephiroth, startled, took a step back before catching himself. Casual touch was not something he did well . . . too often in his young life, a touch of any kind had meant pain. That programming had been instilled into him since his birth, and he still had problems with how casually most people seemed to touch each other. To him, touch meant pain, so he avoided it as much as possible. He always had . . . and he knew that he probably always would. Another legacy of Hojo that kept him from rejoining humanity at large.
"I think Seth here would be perfect, Cloud. He's new in town, so he doesn't have a job or a place to stay yet, and he's already shown that he's capable of it." He snapped out of his thoughts and stared down at Tifa in disbelief. Him . . . play bodyguard / bouncer? In the very den of his 'killers'? Fate really did have one hell of a sense of humor, and was having way too much fun with him. "What do you say, Seth? Would you be willing? We'll pay, and provide room and board." He stared down into her face. She was so earnest . . . he sighed internally. What had he gotten himself into? 'I knew I should have walked out earlier . . . how do I say no?' Once again, fate stepped in and decided for him.
"I'll do it," he murmured . . . and promptly wondered if he'd taken leave of his senses.
To Be Continued
AN - Well . . . like it? Hate it? Let me know. Just remember, Seph is immune to fire : )
