Sephiroth's story is copyrighted to a book called Small Gods by Terry
Pratchett, read it, it's good.
Chapter 4
//"Really?"
"Yeah I've known him for a long time."
" . . . Bullshit."
"No I'm serious. We met during the war."
"Well, maybe, but that doesn't mean you /know/ Him."
"Yeah, Cloud. I KNOW HIM. We're friends. We spar one weekends."
"You spar with The General? And I bet you win every time too huh?"
"Yeah right, he wipes the floor with me."
"So, you really know Him?"
"Yes, Cloud. He is my friend, comprende?"
"Yeah . . . I guess. So, what's He like?"
"I dunno."
"What do you mean you don't know? You just said you were friends with Him."
"I dunno, he doesn't talk much. And uhhh, let's see. I guess he's real smart, and strong."
"Everyone knows that. Zack, don't tease me."
"I'm not! Ummm, oh, he hates fish. He likes red meat and ninjitsu."
"And I bet He's also a Capricorn who enjoys long walks on the beach."
"Nope. He aint no Capricorn, can tell you that much. And He doesn't like to get wet. Who would with that hair though?"
"When's His birthday?"
"Huh?"
"When is His birthday?"
"Jesus Cloud, I don't know."
"Quit lying to me then."
"I'm not lying to you! Stubborn ass. It's not even like /he/ knows when his birthday is."
"How can you not know when your own birthday is?"
"He doesn't. He grew up in the lab with Hojo. No one ever told him his birthday."
" . . . Really?"
"Yeah."
"That's kinda sad."
"Haha, I should introduce you two. I bet you could love him up enough to make up for all those years in the lab."
"Zack . . . you wouldn't. Please don't. I'll die!"
"I dunno, might be fun to see."
"Zack!"
"Okay okay, I'm just teasing you. Here I'll tell you what. We're gonna spar this Saturday on the 25th floor training center. Why don't you tag along? It'd be good for your training and uhhh; you can get us water, or whatever."
" . . . I don't know Zack. What if, ya know, I do something to embarrass myself?"
"Like faint again?"
"You said you wouldn't bring that up again."
"Sorry sorry, I couldn't resist though. And for your information, he felt really bad about that. Besides, it could have been worse. You could have heaved all over his feet, right? . Just come along, I promise nothing will happen."
" . . . Promise?"
"I swear on Bahamut's Balls."
"Okay. What time?"
" . . . . . . . . . . Nine o'clock. Cloud, it's nine o'clock."//
"Huh?" It takes me a moment to gather my senses. I open my eyes and it's so bright out that I can't see anything at all.
"Are you awake now? It's nine o'clock. We should be leaving soon."
"Oh, okay." Before I move my mind scrambles to retain the dream in my fucked up memory archive. I remember that conversation now. Zack had been talking about Sephiroth and I always thought that he was always less then respectful when he spoke The General's name. I told him so once and he responded with something along the lines of, 'I know that prick too well to respect him.' Of course this was simply Zack's slightly demented take on friendship. I only believed they were truly friends when I saw them. Zack prattled on and Sephiroth stood and listened quietly, offering only occasional bits of wisdom or witty comments. I sat in a corner and watched Him, trying to absorb everything that He said.
"You remember something Cloud?"
I put up my hand to silence Vincent. Any distraction and I might lose my train of thought forever . . . wait, what was I just thinking about? Sephiroth? Zack? Gods. My mind is so /fragile/, I can't even remember what happened two seconds ago. Frustrating. I sigh raggedly and curl onto my side. I was close . . . so close to figuring out something.
"Cloud?"
"Yeah . . . I remembered something, but I forgot again."
"I apologize. I won't interrupt you in the future."
There is little conviction in his tone, but then I know that's just the way Vincent talks. A king teal had slashed him across the chest once and left a deep, welling gash. Tifa and I ran to him to try and help him when a tonberry king attacked us. Vincent had stated in a quite normal tone that 'you shouldn't concern yourselves at the moment. We can deal with this little incision later'. Calm and collected as always. I wish I could talk like that, pretend that there was nothing wrong when there was and never give people reason to suspect that I feel anything at all. I wonder what Vincent is thinking right now? I turn my eyes up towards him and all I see is his black silhouette and the blinding rays of the sun behind him. "Gods, what time is it?"
"Cloud, it's nine."
"Oh yes."
"Did you remember something again?"
I blush a little as I realize that I lost track of space and time again and fell victim to my own observations. "No. I'll remember later though."
"Would it help if you spoke out loud when you remembered things? That way if you forget then at least I'll remember."
I stand and half expect to hear my bones creak in protest. My muscles are incredibly sore, like cramps through every fiber in my legs. "Yeah. I'll try to speak out loud next time."
"Always a pleasure to have people cooperate." He mutters this, almost as if he didn't want me to hear. Have I been uncooperative? I bow my head.
"Sorry."
Quite suddenly, there is a little gust of wind accented by flying bits of dust. He rests his claw on my shoulder and uses his human hand to lift my chin, forcing me to gaze into the burgundy depths. "Do you remember what I told you last night?"
Blurbs of speech drift through my mind, none of them are clear enough to discern. I feel bad because I know Vincent is trying to help me, and he truly is helping, but that doesn't mean I can remember a single word he said. Something about teasing me? Or had that been a dream? My dreams and reality are beginning to morph together, faces too. I don't even know who is who or what is what anymore. What do I remember about last night? I remember making love to Sephiroth. But He's dead . . . I didn't, do anything with Vincent, did I? Did he tell me he loved me last night? Better to play it safe. "I don't remember, I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, I know things are hard for you. I told you that you shouldn't worry about anyone but yourself and that-"
"-I'm not a burden. I remember now." Sephiroth must have been a dream. Felt so real though.
"Yes, that's right. Do you think you can ride?"
"Yeah. I feel a lot better after eating."
"I'm glad."
Of course there are times when that neutral tone is nothing but aggravating. He sounds so insincere that I'm not sure if he's being sarcastic or not. "Where are we?" I look around and all I see is sand, dunes that curve gently but are in reality not in the least gentle. They are deadly and harsh. I wonder how many people have died out here in the heat, alone with no resources. Maybe I'll be one of them. It's hot out, and dry. I can feel the heat radiating from above me and from below me as well. Sephiroth and I always hated the heat. We liked the cold better. When we went on missions in cold places, we used to share a bed to keep warm. I like that better than this. This is dry, gritty, unforgiving.
"Near Cosmo Canyon. I took the fastest way possible so it's no wonder this seems unfamiliar to you. Look off there, to the north. See those mountains? I believe Yuffie forced us to go materia hunting with her into a cave there. Do you remember?"
"Yes. The stupidest materia ever, that's what she called it. She was right. No one ever used it, not even once." I smile despite myself and wonder where Yuffie is now. I'm too afraid to ask. "I remember everything after Zack died, like materia hunting and fighting in Midgar. Everything else though, it's just so mixed up." Carrion birds fly overhead. If I die at least I'll be doing something some good. "You and I, we are predators, Vincent. We see straight, everything is on one level. Have you ever wondered what it was like to see through the eyes of the hunted?" I wonder how scavengers see.
He looks at me strangely and I wonder if I'm making any sense. It makes sense to me. "You're not speaking metaphorically are you."
"No." I shake my head. "Animals that are preyed upon see things differently because their eyes are on the sides of their head." I put my hands to my temples to illustrate my point. He is expressionless.
"And that's how your mind is. Two views that appear the same but something obstructs the middle."
"Exactly." I'm glad he understands me, let's me know I'm not completely insane. "That and, unlike most animals, I can't tell which side my attacker is coming from. That is literally how I view my memories sometimes. Half from Zack and half from me, my vision splits. I just don't know which half is which."
"Are all of your memories like that?"
The sand shifts a distance away and I think of Sephiroth. The ways His muscles would contract beneath His skin. So much power. "No . . . not all of them." Focus Cloud. You're talking to Vincent not reminiscing about things you will /never/ have again. "Ummm. No, actually hardly any of them are like that. Just a few."
"I see." He sounds disappointed, however slight.
I can't help but let my eyes wander over to that patch of moving sand. So beautiful, He was. Beautiful. "Hey Vincent?"
"Yes?"
"Sand . . . I mean, it shouldn't move like that . . . should it?"
I watch him turn slowly and let my mind put Sephiroth in his place. It can't hurt for only a moment, if I just pretend for a second. Of course I can't pretend long because Sephiroth would never draw a gun, He didn't like guns. I realize belatedly that we might be in danger and I scour the area for my sword. The gold chocobo I rode on has it slung over the saddle on its back. I wince as I force my legs to move and hobble over to the bird. I glance back once at Vincent, his eyes are sharp and focused. Every muscle in his body is tense and ready to take aim and fire at any given moment. My fingers graze the hilt of my sword and I can still lift it without too much trouble. I actually believe that weapons choose their owners and cooperate with them by, well for me not weighing as much as one would expect. Ultima Weapon always feels light in my hands. I hate my sword though. I hate it and I love it. I love it because I need it to protect people, I hate it because of what it did, whose blood is on it. I turn and Vincent is still staring at the shifting sand, it appears closer than before. I hear the scraping of Vincent's metal boots with such clarity it frightens me and suddenly, I can smell what's coming towards us. The stagnant carrion odor of one of those hideous sand-spitting worms. They make horror films from things like that, but this, this one, I sense something different about it.
I know danger; I know it well. And even if my muscles have atrophied and my skills have gone slack, my body is ready for the assault. My fingers grip my escort guard, just to make sure its still there. And I run.
I hear Vincent call to me and from the corner of my eye I see the sun glint off the metal on his arm as he reaches out to me. I might be able to hear the footfalls of his persecuting form were it not for the fact that I am focused entirely on the danger before us. Throughout the months of fighting, I trained my mind to see only threats and block out the rest. I wonder how much I missed; if anyone spoke to me or if there was beauty somewhere that I refused to acknowledge. No matter now, nothing matters anymore. Maybe I should . . . let myself be killed, here, now. I'm so tired of life. I want it to end, there is /nothing/ left for me here. Why is it that something hasn't put me out of my misery already?
The worm rears up out of the ground and dirt and sand fly towards me and would have blinded me were it not for the armor. A maw of gnashing, spinning teeth like saw blades and bloody red depths are all I see for a moment. Without really thinking about it, I let my sword fall. It does not slip from my fingers, it just drops and my body grows slack. There is wind, and though it is hot and dry, it reminds me of days when I was happy and /alive/. The wind, such wonderful feelings. I can even imagine the sand pummeling my skin is softer, gentler, like the forgotten touch of a lover. It wouldn't be so bad to die this way, and though I intended to kill this parasite, I think I might not now, I think I might let it kill me.
"Cloud! Please!"
I hear gunfire and the deep, ground shaking howls of the great parasite. Bits of worm flesh fly about with the sand and the ground becomes speckled red-brown blood. I understand the words after I realize that Vincent is shooting down the beast, taking my opportunity for peace and ripping it apart. I am not angry. But those words, such horrible /desperate/ conviction. It would be wrong of me die without letting him feel like he's at least accomplished something. Fingers tightening audibly around the hilt of my sword, I charge. I wonder if I am magnificent, as my sword cuts upward into the belly of the worm. Gods know what exactly the thick warmth that spills onto me is. I slice sideways and distinguish the strangled roar of the worm before it all crashes down on top of me.
Suffocation is something terrible. It is so difficult not to panic. I panic now. I don't even know what's happened, can't process why there is darkness and heat and no air. I scream but only manage to whimper and my hands dig into pliable course flesh but I cannot find a way out. Trapped. No air. Trapped. Havetogetouthavetobreatheohgodsohgodspleasesomeonehelpme . . . cantbreathe.
"CLOUD!"
"Seph . . ."
//"Tell me a story?"
"I don't know any good stories, only proverbs and parables I had to memorize when I was younger."
"I don't mind. I want to hear."
"Very well. Have you heard the story about the Tortoise and the Eagle?"
"No, tell me."
"The Tortoise is a ground-living creature. It is impossible to be nearer to the ground without being under it. Its horizons are only a few inches away. It has about as good a turn of speed as you need to hunt down a lettuce. It has survived while the rest of evolution flowed past it by being, on the whole, no threat to anyone and too much trouble to eat.
"And then there is the Eagle. A creature of the air and high places, whose horizons go all the way to the edge of the world. Eyesight keen enough to spot the rustle of some small and squeaky creature half a mile away. All power, all control. Lightning death on wings. Talons and claws enough to make a meal of anything smaller than it is and at least take a hurried snack out of anything bigger.
"And yet the Eagle will sit for hours on a crag and survey the kingdoms of the world until it spots a distant movement and then it will focus, focus, /focus/ on the small shell wobbling among the bushes down there on the desert and it will /leap/ . . .
"And a minute later the Tortoise finds the world dropping away from it. And it sees the world for the first time, no longer one inch from the ground but five hundred feet above it, and it thinks: what a great friend I have in the Eagle.
"And then the Eagle lets go.
"And almost always the Tortoise plunges to its death. Everyone knows why the tortoise does this. Gravity is a habit hard to shake off. No one knows why the Eagle does this. There's good eating on a Tortoise but, considering the effort involved, there's much better eating on practically anything else. It's simply the delight of Eagles to torment Tortoises.
"But of course, what the Eagle does not realize is that it is participating in a very crude form of natural selection.
"One day a Tortoise will learn how to fly."
"Sephiroth?"
"Yes?"
"Will you ever drop me?"
"Will I ever drop you?"
"Well, you've let me fly, let me see the world. You wont drop me, will you?"
" . . . No, I wont drop you. But last time I checked, you weren't a tortoise and I wasn't an eagle."
"Maybe not, but it's the same thing. Before you I had nothing, I /was/ nothing."
" . . . I disagree with you. You're everything, and you know it."
"Just as long as you don't drop me."//
A sharp slap to the face and my eyes flicker open. There are magenta spots on a black plane, that's all I see.
"Cloud, wake up."
The voice sounds distressed and I don't know what could possibly be wrong, I was having such a nice dream. "Mmmm, lemme sleep for five more minutes."
I hear a weary sigh of relief and a small laugh. "Cloud, look at me."
My eyes focus on the solemn man before me and the first thing I notice is that his face is exposed, the red kerchief that normally hides his features is hung low around his neck. He has full lips, high cheekbones, just like Sephiroth. "I am, looking Vincent. And you know what I see? I see Sephiroth, and that hurts." I look away quickly before I start to cry and I see the swollen, parasitic body of a sand worm. It's insides are strewn all over . . . everywhere, including on me. I groan and try to wipe off some of the gore from my face. "What happened?" I look back at Vincent and his face is entirely concealed. I feel guilty.
"The thing collapsed on you after you gutted it. I was afraid you were going to suffocate for a moment." His tone is completely neutral but if I look at his eyes, he is afraid and hurt.
"Sorry, I wasn't thinking. I'll be more careful. And sorry, about ya know . . . but you do look a lot like Him." I pick a clump of thick worm skin from my left arm.
He shrugs and gets up. "Let's get out of this desert and get you cleaned up. I suppose we can take the long way and stop at the river. Can you walk?"
"I think so." I'm amazed that such a simple apology can appease him so quickly, but then maybe I just can't see what's going on in his mind as well as I could a moment ago. I get to my feet and I'm sore and tired and I want to sleep some more, dream some more. "I haven't been this sore since training back in the barracks." My hands are bloody, no fixing that right now.
He begins walking to the chocobos a short distance away. "Turk training was the same. There were times when my muscles ached so badly I couldn't walk at all."
This catches me completely off guard. I forget about my disgusting physical state and realize that Vincent telling me something about his past, what brought that on? I fumble in the conversation and try to pick it up again, keep him talking. "Yeah? What kind of training did they make you do?"
"Strange tests of endurance and strength. Running through the slums for hours upon hours and then combat training, sniper training, and tactics. What did they make you do?"
I briefly try to figure why Vincent is telling me things, maybe the whole open honesty thing again, or maybe he's trying to spur my mind into remembering things. "We had obstacle courses mostly. And when we weren't doing those, we sparred with each other. I used to spar with Zack a lot, and he used to spar with Seph . . . Oh! I remember now!"
He turns and cocks an eyebrow at me but says nothing.
"I, well one time Zack talked me into going to watch him and The General spar, I mean up close. I used to watch from far away but /never/ up close. I was nervous because . . . well, remember I fainted?"
He nods.
"I was afraid I'd do something to embarrass myself. I sat huddled up in the corner and ran to get water for them when they asked. They didn't really pay attention to me, Zack was too busy getting his ass kicked and The General, well, he wouldn't notice someone like me anyways. But after they were done, Zack kinda just dropped and lay panting on the floor, and Sephiroth turned my way and he /stared/ at me. It felt like that with just that one look, He knew everything about me. But he wouldn't stop looking at me and His eyes took in all of me, he was looking at /all/ of me. I, I think I must have blushed horribly because He looked amused, now that I think about it. He asked me if I wanted to spar with Him."
"Did you?"
"No! I would have died. I mean He wouldn't have killed me or anything, but the second I got within three feet of Him I would have dropped dead."
"What happened after you declined?"
"He helped me up and I was pissed because He made me look like an ass in front of Clo-. . . Never mind." I don't know when exactly my perspective shifts, but it's blatant that it did. I remember after sparring, Sephiroth and I went up to His quarters, who exactly 'I' is I'm not sure. From the way He was looking at me, He very well may have invited me up. He wanted me, probably because I was pretty, but even then, I knew He wanted me. Would I have gone? Zack would have, but he may have been too tired. But then, if He /had/ asked me to go up, I'm certain I would have. Not because I particularly wanted to, I would have been scared shitless, but I would never /think/ to disobey The General. So, that memory may have been mine. That may have been the first or the only time I was with Sephiroth. But then, it may have been Zack's memory too. Lovers burning off extra energy after a spar, it happened all the time in ShinRa.
"Cloud? Were you and Zack, involved in any way?"
I blush and I wonder if my skin had burned enough under the desert sun that he might not be able to tell. "Yeah. But it was mostly we were friends and had a few, ya know, extra activities planned at night." A thread of read drool drips from my hair and I bat it away, wipe my hands on my pants, then notice that I have only succeeded in adding /more/ guts to my hands. I find that I would rather leave and get clean that discuss my jumbled past.
"Did Sephiroth have many people that he slept with?"
Vincent's bluntness makes me feel naïve as I'm /still/ embarrassed to talk about that kind of thing. People always told me I was too innocent, they were right. "I dunno really, I don't remember."
"I see. Well, we should head out."
"Yeah, that'd be good. Sorry I can't remember much right now."
"Don't worry, everything will come back in time."
" . . . That's what I'm afraid of."
A/N: Apologies if this was boring.
Chapter 4
//"Really?"
"Yeah I've known him for a long time."
" . . . Bullshit."
"No I'm serious. We met during the war."
"Well, maybe, but that doesn't mean you /know/ Him."
"Yeah, Cloud. I KNOW HIM. We're friends. We spar one weekends."
"You spar with The General? And I bet you win every time too huh?"
"Yeah right, he wipes the floor with me."
"So, you really know Him?"
"Yes, Cloud. He is my friend, comprende?"
"Yeah . . . I guess. So, what's He like?"
"I dunno."
"What do you mean you don't know? You just said you were friends with Him."
"I dunno, he doesn't talk much. And uhhh, let's see. I guess he's real smart, and strong."
"Everyone knows that. Zack, don't tease me."
"I'm not! Ummm, oh, he hates fish. He likes red meat and ninjitsu."
"And I bet He's also a Capricorn who enjoys long walks on the beach."
"Nope. He aint no Capricorn, can tell you that much. And He doesn't like to get wet. Who would with that hair though?"
"When's His birthday?"
"Huh?"
"When is His birthday?"
"Jesus Cloud, I don't know."
"Quit lying to me then."
"I'm not lying to you! Stubborn ass. It's not even like /he/ knows when his birthday is."
"How can you not know when your own birthday is?"
"He doesn't. He grew up in the lab with Hojo. No one ever told him his birthday."
" . . . Really?"
"Yeah."
"That's kinda sad."
"Haha, I should introduce you two. I bet you could love him up enough to make up for all those years in the lab."
"Zack . . . you wouldn't. Please don't. I'll die!"
"I dunno, might be fun to see."
"Zack!"
"Okay okay, I'm just teasing you. Here I'll tell you what. We're gonna spar this Saturday on the 25th floor training center. Why don't you tag along? It'd be good for your training and uhhh; you can get us water, or whatever."
" . . . I don't know Zack. What if, ya know, I do something to embarrass myself?"
"Like faint again?"
"You said you wouldn't bring that up again."
"Sorry sorry, I couldn't resist though. And for your information, he felt really bad about that. Besides, it could have been worse. You could have heaved all over his feet, right? . Just come along, I promise nothing will happen."
" . . . Promise?"
"I swear on Bahamut's Balls."
"Okay. What time?"
" . . . . . . . . . . Nine o'clock. Cloud, it's nine o'clock."//
"Huh?" It takes me a moment to gather my senses. I open my eyes and it's so bright out that I can't see anything at all.
"Are you awake now? It's nine o'clock. We should be leaving soon."
"Oh, okay." Before I move my mind scrambles to retain the dream in my fucked up memory archive. I remember that conversation now. Zack had been talking about Sephiroth and I always thought that he was always less then respectful when he spoke The General's name. I told him so once and he responded with something along the lines of, 'I know that prick too well to respect him.' Of course this was simply Zack's slightly demented take on friendship. I only believed they were truly friends when I saw them. Zack prattled on and Sephiroth stood and listened quietly, offering only occasional bits of wisdom or witty comments. I sat in a corner and watched Him, trying to absorb everything that He said.
"You remember something Cloud?"
I put up my hand to silence Vincent. Any distraction and I might lose my train of thought forever . . . wait, what was I just thinking about? Sephiroth? Zack? Gods. My mind is so /fragile/, I can't even remember what happened two seconds ago. Frustrating. I sigh raggedly and curl onto my side. I was close . . . so close to figuring out something.
"Cloud?"
"Yeah . . . I remembered something, but I forgot again."
"I apologize. I won't interrupt you in the future."
There is little conviction in his tone, but then I know that's just the way Vincent talks. A king teal had slashed him across the chest once and left a deep, welling gash. Tifa and I ran to him to try and help him when a tonberry king attacked us. Vincent had stated in a quite normal tone that 'you shouldn't concern yourselves at the moment. We can deal with this little incision later'. Calm and collected as always. I wish I could talk like that, pretend that there was nothing wrong when there was and never give people reason to suspect that I feel anything at all. I wonder what Vincent is thinking right now? I turn my eyes up towards him and all I see is his black silhouette and the blinding rays of the sun behind him. "Gods, what time is it?"
"Cloud, it's nine."
"Oh yes."
"Did you remember something again?"
I blush a little as I realize that I lost track of space and time again and fell victim to my own observations. "No. I'll remember later though."
"Would it help if you spoke out loud when you remembered things? That way if you forget then at least I'll remember."
I stand and half expect to hear my bones creak in protest. My muscles are incredibly sore, like cramps through every fiber in my legs. "Yeah. I'll try to speak out loud next time."
"Always a pleasure to have people cooperate." He mutters this, almost as if he didn't want me to hear. Have I been uncooperative? I bow my head.
"Sorry."
Quite suddenly, there is a little gust of wind accented by flying bits of dust. He rests his claw on my shoulder and uses his human hand to lift my chin, forcing me to gaze into the burgundy depths. "Do you remember what I told you last night?"
Blurbs of speech drift through my mind, none of them are clear enough to discern. I feel bad because I know Vincent is trying to help me, and he truly is helping, but that doesn't mean I can remember a single word he said. Something about teasing me? Or had that been a dream? My dreams and reality are beginning to morph together, faces too. I don't even know who is who or what is what anymore. What do I remember about last night? I remember making love to Sephiroth. But He's dead . . . I didn't, do anything with Vincent, did I? Did he tell me he loved me last night? Better to play it safe. "I don't remember, I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, I know things are hard for you. I told you that you shouldn't worry about anyone but yourself and that-"
"-I'm not a burden. I remember now." Sephiroth must have been a dream. Felt so real though.
"Yes, that's right. Do you think you can ride?"
"Yeah. I feel a lot better after eating."
"I'm glad."
Of course there are times when that neutral tone is nothing but aggravating. He sounds so insincere that I'm not sure if he's being sarcastic or not. "Where are we?" I look around and all I see is sand, dunes that curve gently but are in reality not in the least gentle. They are deadly and harsh. I wonder how many people have died out here in the heat, alone with no resources. Maybe I'll be one of them. It's hot out, and dry. I can feel the heat radiating from above me and from below me as well. Sephiroth and I always hated the heat. We liked the cold better. When we went on missions in cold places, we used to share a bed to keep warm. I like that better than this. This is dry, gritty, unforgiving.
"Near Cosmo Canyon. I took the fastest way possible so it's no wonder this seems unfamiliar to you. Look off there, to the north. See those mountains? I believe Yuffie forced us to go materia hunting with her into a cave there. Do you remember?"
"Yes. The stupidest materia ever, that's what she called it. She was right. No one ever used it, not even once." I smile despite myself and wonder where Yuffie is now. I'm too afraid to ask. "I remember everything after Zack died, like materia hunting and fighting in Midgar. Everything else though, it's just so mixed up." Carrion birds fly overhead. If I die at least I'll be doing something some good. "You and I, we are predators, Vincent. We see straight, everything is on one level. Have you ever wondered what it was like to see through the eyes of the hunted?" I wonder how scavengers see.
He looks at me strangely and I wonder if I'm making any sense. It makes sense to me. "You're not speaking metaphorically are you."
"No." I shake my head. "Animals that are preyed upon see things differently because their eyes are on the sides of their head." I put my hands to my temples to illustrate my point. He is expressionless.
"And that's how your mind is. Two views that appear the same but something obstructs the middle."
"Exactly." I'm glad he understands me, let's me know I'm not completely insane. "That and, unlike most animals, I can't tell which side my attacker is coming from. That is literally how I view my memories sometimes. Half from Zack and half from me, my vision splits. I just don't know which half is which."
"Are all of your memories like that?"
The sand shifts a distance away and I think of Sephiroth. The ways His muscles would contract beneath His skin. So much power. "No . . . not all of them." Focus Cloud. You're talking to Vincent not reminiscing about things you will /never/ have again. "Ummm. No, actually hardly any of them are like that. Just a few."
"I see." He sounds disappointed, however slight.
I can't help but let my eyes wander over to that patch of moving sand. So beautiful, He was. Beautiful. "Hey Vincent?"
"Yes?"
"Sand . . . I mean, it shouldn't move like that . . . should it?"
I watch him turn slowly and let my mind put Sephiroth in his place. It can't hurt for only a moment, if I just pretend for a second. Of course I can't pretend long because Sephiroth would never draw a gun, He didn't like guns. I realize belatedly that we might be in danger and I scour the area for my sword. The gold chocobo I rode on has it slung over the saddle on its back. I wince as I force my legs to move and hobble over to the bird. I glance back once at Vincent, his eyes are sharp and focused. Every muscle in his body is tense and ready to take aim and fire at any given moment. My fingers graze the hilt of my sword and I can still lift it without too much trouble. I actually believe that weapons choose their owners and cooperate with them by, well for me not weighing as much as one would expect. Ultima Weapon always feels light in my hands. I hate my sword though. I hate it and I love it. I love it because I need it to protect people, I hate it because of what it did, whose blood is on it. I turn and Vincent is still staring at the shifting sand, it appears closer than before. I hear the scraping of Vincent's metal boots with such clarity it frightens me and suddenly, I can smell what's coming towards us. The stagnant carrion odor of one of those hideous sand-spitting worms. They make horror films from things like that, but this, this one, I sense something different about it.
I know danger; I know it well. And even if my muscles have atrophied and my skills have gone slack, my body is ready for the assault. My fingers grip my escort guard, just to make sure its still there. And I run.
I hear Vincent call to me and from the corner of my eye I see the sun glint off the metal on his arm as he reaches out to me. I might be able to hear the footfalls of his persecuting form were it not for the fact that I am focused entirely on the danger before us. Throughout the months of fighting, I trained my mind to see only threats and block out the rest. I wonder how much I missed; if anyone spoke to me or if there was beauty somewhere that I refused to acknowledge. No matter now, nothing matters anymore. Maybe I should . . . let myself be killed, here, now. I'm so tired of life. I want it to end, there is /nothing/ left for me here. Why is it that something hasn't put me out of my misery already?
The worm rears up out of the ground and dirt and sand fly towards me and would have blinded me were it not for the armor. A maw of gnashing, spinning teeth like saw blades and bloody red depths are all I see for a moment. Without really thinking about it, I let my sword fall. It does not slip from my fingers, it just drops and my body grows slack. There is wind, and though it is hot and dry, it reminds me of days when I was happy and /alive/. The wind, such wonderful feelings. I can even imagine the sand pummeling my skin is softer, gentler, like the forgotten touch of a lover. It wouldn't be so bad to die this way, and though I intended to kill this parasite, I think I might not now, I think I might let it kill me.
"Cloud! Please!"
I hear gunfire and the deep, ground shaking howls of the great parasite. Bits of worm flesh fly about with the sand and the ground becomes speckled red-brown blood. I understand the words after I realize that Vincent is shooting down the beast, taking my opportunity for peace and ripping it apart. I am not angry. But those words, such horrible /desperate/ conviction. It would be wrong of me die without letting him feel like he's at least accomplished something. Fingers tightening audibly around the hilt of my sword, I charge. I wonder if I am magnificent, as my sword cuts upward into the belly of the worm. Gods know what exactly the thick warmth that spills onto me is. I slice sideways and distinguish the strangled roar of the worm before it all crashes down on top of me.
Suffocation is something terrible. It is so difficult not to panic. I panic now. I don't even know what's happened, can't process why there is darkness and heat and no air. I scream but only manage to whimper and my hands dig into pliable course flesh but I cannot find a way out. Trapped. No air. Trapped. Havetogetouthavetobreatheohgodsohgodspleasesomeonehelpme . . . cantbreathe.
"CLOUD!"
"Seph . . ."
//"Tell me a story?"
"I don't know any good stories, only proverbs and parables I had to memorize when I was younger."
"I don't mind. I want to hear."
"Very well. Have you heard the story about the Tortoise and the Eagle?"
"No, tell me."
"The Tortoise is a ground-living creature. It is impossible to be nearer to the ground without being under it. Its horizons are only a few inches away. It has about as good a turn of speed as you need to hunt down a lettuce. It has survived while the rest of evolution flowed past it by being, on the whole, no threat to anyone and too much trouble to eat.
"And then there is the Eagle. A creature of the air and high places, whose horizons go all the way to the edge of the world. Eyesight keen enough to spot the rustle of some small and squeaky creature half a mile away. All power, all control. Lightning death on wings. Talons and claws enough to make a meal of anything smaller than it is and at least take a hurried snack out of anything bigger.
"And yet the Eagle will sit for hours on a crag and survey the kingdoms of the world until it spots a distant movement and then it will focus, focus, /focus/ on the small shell wobbling among the bushes down there on the desert and it will /leap/ . . .
"And a minute later the Tortoise finds the world dropping away from it. And it sees the world for the first time, no longer one inch from the ground but five hundred feet above it, and it thinks: what a great friend I have in the Eagle.
"And then the Eagle lets go.
"And almost always the Tortoise plunges to its death. Everyone knows why the tortoise does this. Gravity is a habit hard to shake off. No one knows why the Eagle does this. There's good eating on a Tortoise but, considering the effort involved, there's much better eating on practically anything else. It's simply the delight of Eagles to torment Tortoises.
"But of course, what the Eagle does not realize is that it is participating in a very crude form of natural selection.
"One day a Tortoise will learn how to fly."
"Sephiroth?"
"Yes?"
"Will you ever drop me?"
"Will I ever drop you?"
"Well, you've let me fly, let me see the world. You wont drop me, will you?"
" . . . No, I wont drop you. But last time I checked, you weren't a tortoise and I wasn't an eagle."
"Maybe not, but it's the same thing. Before you I had nothing, I /was/ nothing."
" . . . I disagree with you. You're everything, and you know it."
"Just as long as you don't drop me."//
A sharp slap to the face and my eyes flicker open. There are magenta spots on a black plane, that's all I see.
"Cloud, wake up."
The voice sounds distressed and I don't know what could possibly be wrong, I was having such a nice dream. "Mmmm, lemme sleep for five more minutes."
I hear a weary sigh of relief and a small laugh. "Cloud, look at me."
My eyes focus on the solemn man before me and the first thing I notice is that his face is exposed, the red kerchief that normally hides his features is hung low around his neck. He has full lips, high cheekbones, just like Sephiroth. "I am, looking Vincent. And you know what I see? I see Sephiroth, and that hurts." I look away quickly before I start to cry and I see the swollen, parasitic body of a sand worm. It's insides are strewn all over . . . everywhere, including on me. I groan and try to wipe off some of the gore from my face. "What happened?" I look back at Vincent and his face is entirely concealed. I feel guilty.
"The thing collapsed on you after you gutted it. I was afraid you were going to suffocate for a moment." His tone is completely neutral but if I look at his eyes, he is afraid and hurt.
"Sorry, I wasn't thinking. I'll be more careful. And sorry, about ya know . . . but you do look a lot like Him." I pick a clump of thick worm skin from my left arm.
He shrugs and gets up. "Let's get out of this desert and get you cleaned up. I suppose we can take the long way and stop at the river. Can you walk?"
"I think so." I'm amazed that such a simple apology can appease him so quickly, but then maybe I just can't see what's going on in his mind as well as I could a moment ago. I get to my feet and I'm sore and tired and I want to sleep some more, dream some more. "I haven't been this sore since training back in the barracks." My hands are bloody, no fixing that right now.
He begins walking to the chocobos a short distance away. "Turk training was the same. There were times when my muscles ached so badly I couldn't walk at all."
This catches me completely off guard. I forget about my disgusting physical state and realize that Vincent telling me something about his past, what brought that on? I fumble in the conversation and try to pick it up again, keep him talking. "Yeah? What kind of training did they make you do?"
"Strange tests of endurance and strength. Running through the slums for hours upon hours and then combat training, sniper training, and tactics. What did they make you do?"
I briefly try to figure why Vincent is telling me things, maybe the whole open honesty thing again, or maybe he's trying to spur my mind into remembering things. "We had obstacle courses mostly. And when we weren't doing those, we sparred with each other. I used to spar with Zack a lot, and he used to spar with Seph . . . Oh! I remember now!"
He turns and cocks an eyebrow at me but says nothing.
"I, well one time Zack talked me into going to watch him and The General spar, I mean up close. I used to watch from far away but /never/ up close. I was nervous because . . . well, remember I fainted?"
He nods.
"I was afraid I'd do something to embarrass myself. I sat huddled up in the corner and ran to get water for them when they asked. They didn't really pay attention to me, Zack was too busy getting his ass kicked and The General, well, he wouldn't notice someone like me anyways. But after they were done, Zack kinda just dropped and lay panting on the floor, and Sephiroth turned my way and he /stared/ at me. It felt like that with just that one look, He knew everything about me. But he wouldn't stop looking at me and His eyes took in all of me, he was looking at /all/ of me. I, I think I must have blushed horribly because He looked amused, now that I think about it. He asked me if I wanted to spar with Him."
"Did you?"
"No! I would have died. I mean He wouldn't have killed me or anything, but the second I got within three feet of Him I would have dropped dead."
"What happened after you declined?"
"He helped me up and I was pissed because He made me look like an ass in front of Clo-. . . Never mind." I don't know when exactly my perspective shifts, but it's blatant that it did. I remember after sparring, Sephiroth and I went up to His quarters, who exactly 'I' is I'm not sure. From the way He was looking at me, He very well may have invited me up. He wanted me, probably because I was pretty, but even then, I knew He wanted me. Would I have gone? Zack would have, but he may have been too tired. But then, if He /had/ asked me to go up, I'm certain I would have. Not because I particularly wanted to, I would have been scared shitless, but I would never /think/ to disobey The General. So, that memory may have been mine. That may have been the first or the only time I was with Sephiroth. But then, it may have been Zack's memory too. Lovers burning off extra energy after a spar, it happened all the time in ShinRa.
"Cloud? Were you and Zack, involved in any way?"
I blush and I wonder if my skin had burned enough under the desert sun that he might not be able to tell. "Yeah. But it was mostly we were friends and had a few, ya know, extra activities planned at night." A thread of read drool drips from my hair and I bat it away, wipe my hands on my pants, then notice that I have only succeeded in adding /more/ guts to my hands. I find that I would rather leave and get clean that discuss my jumbled past.
"Did Sephiroth have many people that he slept with?"
Vincent's bluntness makes me feel naïve as I'm /still/ embarrassed to talk about that kind of thing. People always told me I was too innocent, they were right. "I dunno really, I don't remember."
"I see. Well, we should head out."
"Yeah, that'd be good. Sorry I can't remember much right now."
"Don't worry, everything will come back in time."
" . . . That's what I'm afraid of."
A/N: Apologies if this was boring.