Chapter 4 - The Price for Pleasure
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Ansem smiled tightly. "This is my brush, by the way," he went on with mock seriousness. "Nobody touches it but me. And your hair, of course."
The ex-SOLDIER made his way around the room, taking in things that he did not have the liberty or the energy to when he'd arrived. Everything seemed so strange to him. Some things echoed of a familiarity he couldn't put his finger on. The subtle gleam of the lights on the freshly waxed floor reminded him of a place and life that he might have lived before but only in his dark, blurry dreams.
It unnerved him. The unsettling darkness that had pervaded throughout his thoughts all day since he'd awakened now made his mind cower in shadow. His vision blurred at the edges and he drove the Darkness back almost immediately. It clouded his mind and obscured his reason, and it was a weakness he could not afford to give into.
Ansem watched this subtle transformation with a subdued calm, his eyes flashing slightly as he saw at once the curving figures of shadow slink around Sephiroth's body. He moved forward the moment he started to see him slump slightly.
Whether or not Sephiroth was aware, he did not know. Sephiroth sank back, suddenly without the will or strength to bother fighting it anymore. Instead of feeling the sting of falling on the floor he felt the gentle pressure of Ansem's arms about his chest. Somehow it returned his strength. His head cleared, and he turned his cheek slightly against his shoulder.
"What are you?"
"You are poisoned with Darkness," Ansem told him as he embraced him. "And you're slowly losing yourself to it. I need you to relax. Back over to the couch. You should eat, and you will not argue with me."
Sephiroth did not argue. He leaned against Ansem while they shuffled back to the couch. Sephiroth collapsed into its softness, and marveled at how soft it was, and never realized how good such cloth could feel against skin. He closed his eyes to enjoy it, but Ansem presses his hand against his wrist. He sat up, growling in his throat, but his touch sent again that cool, clarifying sensation through his body.
And moaned quietly, couch forgotten as Ansem's arms again slipped easily around him and pressed him close. He didn't mind, honestly... it felt quite good... to be held in someone's arms... strange... certainly something he'd never experienced before...
Warm, soft lips pressed gently against his forehead, and whispered against his feverish skin words that droned quietly into his brain. Sleep for now... show me your dreams, weary one... let the Darkness speak for you of the pain that words cannot describe. I'm here for you, Sephiroth... I am listening.
* * * * *
Quiet whispers permeated in the darkness like the skittering of the rats in the alleyway. Junon was not a good place to be, especially during after-war time. It was also not a good place to be if your name was Cloud Strife, and you were in line to be interviewed for the thousandth time by a young, spirited reporter of some news company that Cloud had never even heard of.
It figured that when he had a moment to spare, he couldn't spend it with someone he cared about without being hounded by a dozen of Sephiroth's biggest fans.
Although now, they were unbothered by such petty interruptions. The young soldier lay stretched underneath the warm weight of Sephiroth's arm, clothed in the dark violet of the SOLDIER's outfit. Sephiroth was turned on his side facing him, his eyes open and glowing in the dimness of the Junon barracks, private quarters for the lieutenant only.
"I wanted to be the man everyone thought I couldn't be. Everyone seemed to always see the things I did wrong, and pretty soon I couldn't see anything good either... it was always, 'Strife, you idiot, look what you've done!'. I could never do anything right..."
"Cloud," Sephiroth reassured quietly as he watched the younger man shift uncomfortably with his thoughts. "You will grow strong someday. You're strong now."
He said nothing. Cloud rarely spoke much after telling one of his many deep, dark secrets. He stared at the ceiling, his fingers gently tangled in Sephiroth's fine hair.
"I have to tell you something," he said suddenly, pulling his hand free and turning to press his face close. "No, something different. It's...important."
Sephiroth breathed in slowly as the gentle touch of Cloud's lashes against his cheek. The boy's hands tightened on his arms as he held them, and his words came forcefully as though he couldn't bear to speak them.
"I can't...I can't see you..anymore..." His throat seized up slightly. Emotion choked his words, but kept them understandable. "Ever...ever since Zack, I...I don't think we should..."
"What?" Sephiroth pulled back slightly. Cloud looked as though he was just run through with a jagged, rusty pipe. "What did Zack do? What did he say?"
"H-he told me you a-and he were together. He said th-that...well--"
"You think we're together? You and I?"
"W-Well, I--" Cloud swallowed as he slid out of bed, and stared at him across the slightly crinkled sheets. "Look, I n-never asked to fall in love with anyone before!! I just wanted to have a friend, someone to talk to!! And...And obviously, since you don't consider this as 'together' then maybe I'm just wasting my breath. You really *don't* care, do you, Sephiroth? All you care about is.. is goddamn work!! And....ZACK!!"
The explosion came so quickly that Sephiroth had no time to shield himself. It had *stung*, this... strange emergence of emotion. Cloud vanished through the door before Sephiroth could protest... to explain. But such had been the ugliness of truth. He stared at the empty bed, wrinkled sheets, and stretched his hand out to run his palm gently, musingly over the imprint Cloud's body had left.
He trembled slightly before he sank to his knees beside the bed, his arms folded across the sheets, his face buried in the bunched up sheets as he pulled them toward his body. "You stupid fool," he whispered unto himself. "You stupid, ridiculous bastard..."
* * * * *
Calm breathing filled his ears. He opened his eyes again and trembled as the dream pounded into his brain, a dream he understood completely. He remembered feeling the sheets slide from his fingers and the strange wetness that dripped onto his arms. The taste of blood on his tongue when his teeth sank to bite it, again, to keep from screaming.
"Wake up," the breathing said. "Come out of there..."
Tears blurred his vision. The arms coiled around his waist, hands resting lightly against his thighs. He felt a peculiar breeze against his shoulder that was warm. He reemmbered where he was, and closed his eyes again. Strangely, he didn't care. Sephiroth didn't care about anything anymore. His mind buzzed with memories, tumbling into one another until another voice breathed again.
"Empty your mind, Sephiroth," Ansem said quietly. "Remember them, but think not on the past so much. I'm right here. Don't worry about the boy anymore. He's gone."
Sephiroth almost detected a note of jealousy in his voice, understanding and sadness resonating in his deep baritone. He spoke up, finding his throat tight with emotion he didn't remember feeling during his unconsciousness. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I don't understand," he said softly. "I don't understand why he was so angry with me... I cared about him, too."
Confused, angry, and sick to his stomach he pulled free and slid over to the other side of the couch, pressing his hand over his eyes. His innards shook with the rest of him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ansem slowly straightening and leaning forward.
"I care," he interjected quietly, reaching to tuck a strand of intruding silver hair behind Sephiroth's ear. His fingertips lingered lightly against his cheek, and twitched when Sephiroth caught his hand in his. He turned his palm up, and Ansem watched in confusion as he kissed it, his face twisted lightly in pain. "Sephiroth?"
"Yes, Ansem," he said quietly, still grasping his hand delicately. "I know."
"But it's--" Ansem wet his lips, and silenced himself. I am the fool, he thought amusingly. Why had I not prepared myself when I knew this was coming? "--it's not right..."
Yes, it is. He slid toward him, and felt Sephiroth's tongue lightly circle his throat as he leaned into him and pressed his face into his shoulder. The man's arms tightened around his back and he tilted his face up, tasting a shy mouth caress his. His trembling lips suckled gently at his lower lip and something like fire burned in Ansem's gut. A fire that encouraged his hands to slide up along his companion's thighs and tighten on the edge of his shirt.
Only when Sephiroth took his hands and pulled them free was the fire cooled to a slow, stubborn candle-flame. His eyes were calm and reasonable, and it took a moment for Ansem to remember where they were.
"Wait," he told him quietly. His eyes softened, a trace of tears brimming near the bottom. "Wait awhile."
Ansem wanted to damn him to the farthest pits of hell. But he saw the tears, felt the pain. There was another time and place for this. For Sephiroth, the pain of loss and his memories were still to near.
"Don't worry about me leaving. I'm not. If I leave... then you're coming with me. I don't intend to stay here for eternity. I am not going to take this bleak existence lying down," Ansem told him, his breathing even again. His thoughts cleared, and he smiled faintly, his mouth numb with the kiss they shouldn't have shared.
* * * * *
Light-hearted, Ansem packed away the final article that he would need on this hopefully short and fruitful journey. He tucked Seeker into the bangle that Sephiroth made for him, and shouldered his backpack with one final look toward the sad, warm little house in the middle of the City of the Unliving.
Sephiroth carried equally as much as Ansem, for they cherished dry clothing as much as any normal person did. And they set out. Sydney did not care, nor did he seem to pay them any mind as they left the poor broken creature with his strange lover Roj.
"So, what if we never get out of this place? Can we escape into another time?"
"If there is another time for us," Sephiroth answered quietly. "I still can't quite grasp the meaning of it all, but as long as we're together, I suppose nothing could harm us." He stared into the dismal gray horizon, and suddenly his face brightened like a star in supernova, shedding light where there was none. He smiled and continued, "Perhaps there lies our hope." And he raised his arm, pointing toward a faint light in the distance. It seemed very close, but ...far away.
Ansem squinted slightly, before he was pulled to the side by Sephiroth, and paralyzed by his sudden kiss. His mouth moved subtly as he spoke again, in a ragged whisper. "Never, never look directly at the light, or we'll lose it instantly. We *will* get there, Ansem. Trust in it, and we will escape. I just know it."
* * * * *
Ansem's feet were leaden, his boots weighed down by so much mud that clung to them. His jacket he had gotten rid of simply because it was becoming a nuisance, a dim whisper of irritation as the rain made his flesh crawl every time the material moved against his skin. Sephiroth moved on ahead, and he watched his back as they continued, hauling their backpacks which were soaked through, soaking everything in them and making them thrice as heavy. But they were the only other clothes they had, and though they were wet they were clean.
Time was like a memory once more. The Magi remembered spells as they walked across the plains, through a forest, and still Sephiroth insisted there was a light. This pulsing flicker of hope was what kept Ansem from complaining at all. After all, he could have been alone... could have been dying slowly, in agony, like Sephiroth had been...
The skies were so dark, it was impossible to tell whether or not it was day or night, so Ansem had no inkling of how much time had passed. The rain had started hours ago, he thought. Or maybe it was days. Who knew anymore?
Ansem dared to use one of his less frequent spells, and summoned up a small floating ball of cold fire, which flickered here and there above their shoulders and ahead, revealing some of what lay before them. Through the cracks of trees, they discerned the floating hopeless ghosts of creatures who could never hope to live at all. They seemed to follow them occasionally before they ceased to remember them and wander again and vanish through the eternal sheets of rain that crashed around them.
Sephiroth let them stop, and rest for a couple of minutes. They stood, shoulder-to-shoulder like miserable posts of flesh. Ansem reached up to hold onto his arm and turned toward him somewhat, leaning up against him as he pressed his lips to his soaked, clammy skin.
"I can't do this anymore," he hissed quietly.
Sephiroth answered after a breath, "Yes, you can, Ansem." His arm pressed against his back, holding him against him, and for one terrible moment Sephiroth swayed unsteadily as Ansem suddenly started coughing ceaselessly. He regained his footing however, by some means of awful luck and lifted him in one motion into his arms and proceeded to carry him.
The ball of fire died slowly, Ansem heaving occasionally with his terrible coughs. But light had not ceased to radiate around them. It enveloped them safely, and warmth replaced cold.
The rain stopped.
Everything around them was very, very silent. The trees had strayed away into a large, oddly circular clearing, perfectly empty safe but for a ring of tall, worn stones that stood in a triangle.
Yet although there was light, the shadows, the sick cold that crept over Sephiroth that was different than the cold of the rain. It was that soul-sapping essence that stole over his spirit. So familiar. Like small, jagged claws were slowly closing around his heart.
It was not long before he could see them.
Droves of those dark beings, short, moving awkwardly and almost comically on their short legs. Their hollow yellow eyes glittered hungrily in the darkness, rushing toward them both like a pack of starving, cannibalistic wolves.
Sephiroth made it to the triangle before he sank down to his knees, laying Ansem onto the dry ground before he followed as well, shivering violently with chill. He was so tired... agonizing stabs of pain throbbed through his skull, probably from the cold, keeping him from passing out.
"You won't take him," he growled through his chattering teeth, rising to his feet and drawing the sword he had collected. He didn't remember picking it up at all. It came into his hands as though by will alone, and it hummed with his presence, hungry for these devils as they were hungry for Sephiroth.
His strength only slightly renewed, he kept a tight circle around Ansem's motionless body, slashing, each precise motion determined to hack and destroy as many as the little vicious bastards as possible. He felt their claws pulling at his coat, spun, slashed, felt them again behind him and turned, broadsiding another demon with the flat of his sword. Desperation began to squeeze his heart, made it difficult to think--
But a voice slided like a warm breeze through his thoughts, easing tight knots of migraine from his temples. The demons vanished in a heartbeat, without a trace, falling away into black, glittering particles forever.
So you have found your way here. You are both very brave, but this is not yet the end of your journeys. You will find yourselves at the mercy of other living souls like yourself. But you are not yet free from the Void.