His Mother's Eyes
Author's Note: I...don't know why I wrote this. Weird things come to my mind whilst I'm walking to work. Anyway, this is a Vincent POV, if it had been Vince and not Cloud facing Sephiroth in the last battle. There's a bit of implied yaoi in this, so...be warned. Feel free to flame if you like, I live in Minnesota, and winter is only about a month away.
***
Of all the things that I believed could unnerve me about this foe, I never imagined this. Behind the glow of the Mako, and that crazed look....yes, if the lashes were just the slightest bit longer....
He has his mother's eyes.
I would have thought fate was through toying with me. Is it not enough that I am fighting the son of my beloved, holding a weapon that she, or the spirit she has become, left for me? Is it not enough that she has vanished, and I cannot know if I shall ever find her again? Why must he remind me so much of her?
I could almost drop my rifle, and run to him. If I only saw his eyes, if I looked into them deeply enough, let myself drown in them...it might almost be the same. If I let my hand rest on his cheek, would his skin feel like hers did? His features are delicate, like hers were...I doubt that they would break the illusion.
....what have I become...?
How can I think such things?! This is the son of my true love...what have I become that I long for him to smile at me, simply because of the chance that his eyes would shine the same way hers did? What makes me think so strongly that I could find solace in his arms?
I must end this.
I see the blade is in his hand...he seems almost confused. Doubtless, he wonders why I have yet to show any sign of attack. Perhaps he thinks I am trying to trick him. Or does he struggle with such thoughts as I do? Does he hesitate because he, too, wonders how it would feel-
Nonsense!
I have not come this far to be stopped by beauty. Particularly not the beauty of another man. I cannot allow my discipline to be lost by a twisted fantasy. He is not Lucretia.
So why do I feel as though every bit of air between us is some terrible force trying to keep us apart? Why does my heart race? Why does my throat go dry? I must keep my hand from shaking...he is my enemy. All the world depends on this...
But hasn't it taken enough from me? I've lost Lucretia...the life I knew...my very humanity...Are my dues still unpaid? Must I make this sacrifice, as well? One more sin...does any of it truly matter? Would leaving him alive, stealing one kiss, be enough to condemn me? Am I not condemned for my shortcomings, already? What deeper hell could be found for me than that which I live in the cold solitude I have forced upon myself?
No! What am I thinking?!
This is nothing I can justify. Somehow, right and wrong exist, and I know that for right to triumph, I must take his life. What I feel is unimportant. It always has been. I raise my weapon. He begins to charge....I can almost feel the bullet through my own heart. The clatter of his dropped sword against the ground is almost too much to bear.
He falls forward, against me, and I can feel the warmth of his blood on my own chest. His heart is so close to mine, as it beats its last...This is the end, but still, I wrap my arms around him, and look into his eyes. He seems frightened, vulnerable...I lean forward, and whisper in his ear.
"Sephiroth..."
The name seems to echo through me, to flow through my veins like acid. It can only tell me what will never be, what I have ended. The emotions are too much. There is only one thing I can say.
"...Sephiroth...If you see your mother....tell her I'm sorry...."
Author's Note: I...don't know why I wrote this. Weird things come to my mind whilst I'm walking to work. Anyway, this is a Vincent POV, if it had been Vince and not Cloud facing Sephiroth in the last battle. There's a bit of implied yaoi in this, so...be warned. Feel free to flame if you like, I live in Minnesota, and winter is only about a month away.
***
Of all the things that I believed could unnerve me about this foe, I never imagined this. Behind the glow of the Mako, and that crazed look....yes, if the lashes were just the slightest bit longer....
He has his mother's eyes.
I would have thought fate was through toying with me. Is it not enough that I am fighting the son of my beloved, holding a weapon that she, or the spirit she has become, left for me? Is it not enough that she has vanished, and I cannot know if I shall ever find her again? Why must he remind me so much of her?
I could almost drop my rifle, and run to him. If I only saw his eyes, if I looked into them deeply enough, let myself drown in them...it might almost be the same. If I let my hand rest on his cheek, would his skin feel like hers did? His features are delicate, like hers were...I doubt that they would break the illusion.
....what have I become...?
How can I think such things?! This is the son of my true love...what have I become that I long for him to smile at me, simply because of the chance that his eyes would shine the same way hers did? What makes me think so strongly that I could find solace in his arms?
I must end this.
I see the blade is in his hand...he seems almost confused. Doubtless, he wonders why I have yet to show any sign of attack. Perhaps he thinks I am trying to trick him. Or does he struggle with such thoughts as I do? Does he hesitate because he, too, wonders how it would feel-
Nonsense!
I have not come this far to be stopped by beauty. Particularly not the beauty of another man. I cannot allow my discipline to be lost by a twisted fantasy. He is not Lucretia.
So why do I feel as though every bit of air between us is some terrible force trying to keep us apart? Why does my heart race? Why does my throat go dry? I must keep my hand from shaking...he is my enemy. All the world depends on this...
But hasn't it taken enough from me? I've lost Lucretia...the life I knew...my very humanity...Are my dues still unpaid? Must I make this sacrifice, as well? One more sin...does any of it truly matter? Would leaving him alive, stealing one kiss, be enough to condemn me? Am I not condemned for my shortcomings, already? What deeper hell could be found for me than that which I live in the cold solitude I have forced upon myself?
No! What am I thinking?!
This is nothing I can justify. Somehow, right and wrong exist, and I know that for right to triumph, I must take his life. What I feel is unimportant. It always has been. I raise my weapon. He begins to charge....I can almost feel the bullet through my own heart. The clatter of his dropped sword against the ground is almost too much to bear.
He falls forward, against me, and I can feel the warmth of his blood on my own chest. His heart is so close to mine, as it beats its last...This is the end, but still, I wrap my arms around him, and look into his eyes. He seems frightened, vulnerable...I lean forward, and whisper in his ear.
"Sephiroth..."
The name seems to echo through me, to flow through my veins like acid. It can only tell me what will never be, what I have ended. The emotions are too much. There is only one thing I can say.
"...Sephiroth...If you see your mother....tell her I'm sorry...."
