Eternal Fall
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor did I have anything to do with its creation, and all content referring to Final Fantasy VII belongs to Squaresoft/SquareEnix. Also any characters that do not appear in the original Final Fantasy VII have nothing to do with the game, and strictly appear for the purpose of this story.
The rush of cool waves, or to be more exact spirit particles washed over his form, a never ending torrent, bathing him, caressing his one time body, now an empty shell. He could still experience the sensation of feelings, because his spirit had not yet fully departed from its corporeal counterpart. His jaw tightened as the familiar, open feeling rushed into him, she was trying a final attempt to possess the last of her puppets. Her cells still throbbed within him, and he gasped for breath, since whenever they came to life, feeding off of his life and energy, pain sometimes accompanied it, a pain that he could not bear.
Memories flashed through his mind, accompanied by the terrible screams of those who had encountered the Masamune, either by his hand or her manifestation. He squeezed his eyes shut, ashamed at what had befallen in his past. She had taken control of him, in his vulnerable state of mind, just as she had done to her newest puppet, after using her manifestation to break his will and mind, then grabbing hold of the cells of herself within him.
~*~
He looked back on that day; he had been so distressed at watching that thing, that synthetic monster being formed in that pod, it seemed to be on a kind of production line, since it appeared to be many of the same type being incubated. Gazing into its incomplete form, memories sprang up, memories on the information he had heard, the rumours suggesting about his birth being unnatural; thoughts sprang up into his mind as the possibility of the truth in those rumours took root. He had always known that he was different from any other inhabitant of Gaia, but in what ways he was unsure. Some of those traits were evident, such as his sharp combat skills with any medium, his favoured being the Masamune, also there was his incredible stamina and resistance during battle, it was as if he had been modelled, or rather specially made to be the perfect warrior…the perfect SOLDIER. 'That would explain why I was able to advance so quickly through the ranks…and become the General in no time,'
With the seeds taking root, and his belief in them growing, he began to doubt himself, all those barriers and reassurances he had given himself whilst growing up, were beginning to break down, torn to shreds by the rows upon rows of visual evidence before him. Still, he had a tiny light of hope within him that would not allow him to give up, that was what had kept her from taking over there and then, the hope that the real truth, the pieces of information that would decide his true self, located within the Nibelheim Mansion would reveal the true intentions and being of himself.
Silently, he had left his comrade, and one of the few people that actually spoke to and socialised with him, despite the awful things that flitted about among the ranks, ignoring his questions and made his way to the Mansion. He passed that soldier who was stationed outside, preventing their guide from entering the Reactor, the young man looked over at him, the mask obscuring his concerned look as he caught the light frown creased upon his face. That young soldier was a close friend of his comrade, and even though they had made attempts at being just as close with him, their superior, they were still wary, the rumours forming a barrier between them. Having had so much experience with this since his young years, he tolerated it, but had to commend the young soldier on his attempts, even if it was partially tainted with the barrier and seeds of mistrust.
He made his own way down the mountainside, barely noticing the fierce wind that blew about him, whipping his silver-platinum hair like a flag. As if in a trance, or limbo between his beliefs, he re-entered the small town of Nibelheim and directed himself to the Mansion, looming before him. His primary thoughts when he first looked upon the building were that it fit perfectly for the setting of a haunted house movie, the windows displaying darkness within and tattered curtains, the building tall and foreboding, dating back to who knows when, it was currently uninhabited, and he couldn't blame the people who looked, but did not buy. Those thoughts flitted through his mind again, but did little to faze him as he pushed aside the gate and opened the unlocked doors.
Looking upon the interior for the first time, he almost decided to turn back, but the urge to learn, to understand and know the truth overruled his unease at stepping into this forbidden building. The house itself appeared to be well kept, despite the piles of duct that had settled over the years. He looked about, and saw that even though the furniture was satisfactory, the walls and floors were another matter; the wallpapering was peeling and greatly discoloured. The floorboards were rotting, and creaked dangerously when stepped on. He made his way briskly, yet cautiously towards each room, investigating the contents of each one.
He was about to give up any hope left over on ever finding the truth, when he entered the last room and found a large, cylindrical stone wall set against the corner of that room. He looked about, noticing that this was the only large structure within the room; his curiosity drove him to step up to it. He cocked his head to one side as he scrutinised the stone wall, trying to see if there was a way of moving it, or finding out what it held. He ran his hands over the grains and grooves of the wall, pressing his full weight against it. A sudden movement caused him to jump back in surprise, as one of his hands seemed sink through the wall, pushing the stone brick that was set there inwards. He watched as a large section of the cylinder juddered, and slid back, then moved sideways, revealing a spiralling staircase that could only lead to a lower level, possibly a basement.
He drew his Masamune and stepped down, making his way into the dank and somewhat dark atmosphere of the basement. A frown flitted across his brow as he saw a faint glow at the end, and guessed he had entered a corridor. He made his way to the light, keeping his blade at the ready, passing a door with a rusted lock, and made his way into another room. His green eyes peered into the gloom, and he reached out a hand to his side, running it along the wall, searching for a switch and was rewarded with the sudden life of many lights switching on, first this room, then the lights continued to come to life all the down the length of what appeared to be another corridor and ending in another room, possibly the end of the basement.
Once the stunning sensation of the bright lights had passed, his eyes widened in surprise and awe as he saw various laboratory equipment strewn about the floor, and table. He walked through the room, his eyes momentary landing upon a surgical bed, if that was what it could be called, it was more like a metal table with shackles at the top and bottom, possibly used to hold something down. The sight of dried blood confirmed his suspicion, and he shuddered to think about what kind of things were placed here. He made his way towards the corridor and found it to be a library of sorts; various notes packed in a fairly organised manner, among various other books to do with references and history. A heavy feeling formed at the pit of his stomach, but his determination overruled them, this was where he had to begin if he was ever going to know.
~*~
It was then, he remembered, that sudden tingling sensation that began to grow with each moment, as he read on through each book, discarding those he had read and those that did not concern him. As the days turned into nights, and nights turned into days, he continued to read, his hope diminishing with each book and note, he had not slept since the first and did not feel weary at all, driven by his need to know. He found that there were no records of his birth, only of his being, but through those notes only one name continued to appear that was not his, or the name of anyone else concerned with this procedure, or experiment as he began to call it. That name was JENOVA, he had never wondered why the name seemed to appear in capitals, but had merely shrugged it off.
One night as he sat down in the chair of the last room, reading over some notes, a voice began to speak to him, calling him by his name. At first he put it down to lack of sleep, and so ignored it, but the voice was so persistent, and began to grow in volume as the days went by, that he answered it out of frustration. The voice had introduced itself as JENOVA, and began to tell him of their history, claiming to of an Ancient Race long dead, that had been overthrown by the infidels that now survived on her land. He didn't believe the words, but was urged by the voice to look through the books and notes, ones that had been discarded and those not yet read, and so he did, more to keep the voice quiet than to sate his desire for knowledge on this being.
As he read, he found the words to be apparently true, even though they appeared to be assumptions of the late Professor Gast, but true nonetheless. He continued to read, and found that some pages were missing, obviously someone had conveniently removed them, but for what reasons he didn't know, all he knew was that JENOVA was to be used for some kind of procedure, then her voice filled his mind and told him that she was to give birth to a child, that would be destined to rule the world, with the aid of a new procedure that would make him second to none. This revelation had caused his fatigued and hopeless mind to break, and be subjugated to her will. Somewhere deep within, a logical part of himself suggested doing some extra research to see if this was true, but his mind couldn't handle anymore and so it succumbed to the tireless will of the unknown being, now known to him as mother.
~*~
That night was an awful night, for the person he was deep within and the inhabitants of Nibelheim, what he had done was unforgivable and it had left a mark, tainted him, branded him as a merciless mass murderer. His chest tightened at the horrible memories, but what use was sorrow now, what had happened, had happened and there was no way to change that fact. His thoughts flitted to his friend, he had no idea whether he had mortally wounded or killed the dark haired man, when he returned to the Reactor, his body and mind controlled by those alien cells, while his true self was locked away, a prisoner gazing out of the bars of their prison. He had charged his way up to the chamber, the name JENOVA engraved above the doors, and broke into, coming face-to-face with her true and whole form for the first time. His controlled mind sought to free the body of JENOVA, but he was unable to and so only liberated part of her, taking her head with him.
He absently raised a hand to his abdomen, feeling the memory of where he had struck that young soldier, who had come to avenge what he had done. They had crossed paths as he was making his way out of the Reactor, and was taken by sheer surprise as the young soldier overpowered him, even with the blade run through his body, and threw him over the side and into the Lifestream below.
From there his body was carried to the North Crater, where he was encased in materia, practically dead but still alive. Over the five years, even though he was unable to do anything to prevent JENOVA's will, and creating a manifestation of herself in his form, he was able to think and revisit his memories. He used the time to make sense of what had happened, and come to terms with the truth, for within the waves of the Lifestream, he had sensed another presence, the presence of a person trapped in limbo, as he was, not fully dead, yet not fully alive either. This presence spoke to him, not in words but in feelings and images, and he learned the proper truth, grateful that JENOVA could do nothing about what he was learning. His anger rose and he formed a hatred towards her cells within him, but he could do nothing but tolerate what she was doing.
He had been utterly surprised to learn that the one time young soldier, whom he was sure was dead, was still alive. As JENOVA could see through the eyes of her manifestations of herself in various forms, so could he, for they were one, despite him being the host. He sensed something was wrong when he saw the young soldier, but could not place it immediately, soon as she attempted to take his mind as she had done his, he realised that his mind was not the same as it once was, but there was very little he could do, for he was not like her, and so could not do the things she could do.
~*~
He felt himself become sleepy, his lids beginning to droop as he sensed her losing the battle she had waged within that young man, he was resisting, what was good. A smile passed his lips, this would be it, his fate rested in the hands of that man, if he won he would rest forever, never to return, if he lost, then he would suffer an eternal torment as she succeeded in taking over his mind and used it to carry out her will, then she would have two hosts, one being her new puppet.
'Her new puppet…' the thought came and went, as his mind became sluggish. A sudden face filled his mind, and sadness filled him once more. This face was of a woman, young and simply breathtaking. Her brown hair flowed about her, unbound and wavering in the waves, her green eyes looked at him warmly, and he recognised her as the woman his one true friend had loved, and was now the love of the man who fought against JENOVA's will. A smile played on her face, and he realised that she had revealed herself to him, was this a sign of forgiveness, he didn't know, but she seemed to offer comfort and support, a kind that he had never experienced. As their eyes locked, he could just about see the rest of her body take shape, she was a spirit just like any other, and spirits had no need for clothes, since their bodies were composed of light.
His breath caught in his throat as she spread out her arms, and came closer towards him, wrapping the slender forms about his immobile body. Suddenly, the open feeling closed and a sharp shriek filled his ears, heralding the defeat of JENOVA, and the success of the young man. He felt his body convulse, and a smile formed on his lips, as he felt his body begin to break down and disappear into nothing, while his spirit left and became subject to the Planet's will. The woman left his company, and disappeared, leaving him painfully alone, he knew he deserved this judgement, he had no right to become one with the Planet for what had happened, he was just as guilty as JENOVA for what had passed over the years.