Chapter Five
I want to clear away and sever this vulnerability Don't want to be overwhelmed by this anymore. Revelation of our reflections Runs us sharp like a blade pressed tight So we should ignore how to walk the line today Escape the withering spirit and be free.
//"No, now try again, this time from the left."
How did this happen? What the hell was I thinking? This is all Zack's fault, he manipulated me /again/. I've gotta stop him from doing that to me. It was bad enough when he dared me to start the rumor that Heidegger was actually a woman. Things got even worse when I hit that guy over the head with a bottle for calling me skinny, and the bottle didn't even break, damn glass. Should've known I could stand up for myself /without/ being violent, but no, Zack insisted that if I was gonna be a man I'd start a proper bar fight, and I did. But this, right now, this is fucking ridiculous.
I rush the General and close my eyes.
"How can you see your target if your eyes are closed?"
I open my eyes and stop dead in my tracks, fuck rushing Him; I'll just stare at Him instead. The bitchy thing about Him is that I'm not entirely sure He realizes that He is the single most gorgeous creature to ever grace the Planet with His existence. See now if He realized He was beautiful then He might understand my current state of dumbness. I watch as He puts a hand on His hip and shifts His weight, He actually does this a lot; it's more fun to watch from behind though. I realize that this is His disapproval stance. And I shake my head quickly, close my eyes again, and slash my sword through dead air. I'm vaguely aware of Zack laughing his ass off in the corner.
"Cloud, open your eyes and I said from the /left/."
I crack an eye open and Sephiroth is frowning down at me and then turns toward Zack with a look that says, "Why the fuck did you bring me this kid?" I almost start to hyperventilate. When Zack told me that he had planned a special training session between Sephiroth and me, I almost died then drank a bottle of cold medicine. Good thing too, I'm disconnected and groggy enough to be merely mortified as opposed to painfully aroused or in love or dying.
"Come on Cloud! Don't be intimidated by the General! You don't want him to think you're stupid and weak do you."
Sometimes I really hate Zack . . . a lot. If he's trying to hook me up then he's failing miserably. I sort of feel like crawling under my bunk and staying there forever.
"Why don't you let him try it on /you/ then?"
I look up at Sephiroth and it's difficult to see, but he's angry with Zack. He realizes that /I'm/ angry with Zack too. Oh this'll be sweet. Even if I'm shorter, weaker, less qualified, and less experienced, I am going to beat Zack's ass. He deserves it and then maybe . . . maybe Sephiroth won't think I'm stupid and weak. Maybe He'll even be impressed. And then if he's impressed He might mentor me, or better yet invite me up to His apartments and come up from behind me to tell me how talented and strong and beautiful I am before massaging my shoulders and kissing my neck. And then I could turn to Him and confess my undying love and He'd tell me about His own secret burning desire. Oh! And then we would--"
"Cloud! Quit spacing out! I told you not to take that cold medicine. Now come on, before I tell the whole company that you're a sniveling little girl!"
As if I really needed more incentive to kick his ass. I hope all those zero to hero stories are true and that emotions are all you need to fight well. I've gathered enough information around the barracks to figure out Zack's weaknesses. He's very ticklish . . . that's about it. There are others, but they're too complicated and I'd have to be good enough to trap him, plus I'd have to know nearly every form of martial arts in the world, which I don't. I do know that I'm more slippery that he is, I've wiggled out of a death hold or a bear hug of Zack's more times than I can count. So I rush him, he blocks me, and I step on his foot. Hard. "You're in for it you ass." I whisper this so my pretty angel can't hear me.
"What'd I do?" He brings his hand up to palm the back of my neck in an affectionate motion. He bumps his forehead to mine. The gesture is used often before sparring among the upper ranks; it demonstrates friendship and equality. He looks me in the eyes quickly conveying a silent, serious message. I know what he's thinking. He grabs my waist in a quick movement attempts to throw me down on the mat.
"Feigning innocence Zack? That's getting so old. Try something new." I hop to my feet and as Zack lunges for me I jump back down and roll under him. I spring up behind him and just as he turns, I grab his ribs and start tickling him.
"Not fair! Not faaaiiiirrr!!!!" He collapses on the floor laughing. "Cloud you ass!"
"You're the ass! Just let me know when you give up."
"I give up, now quit it! I can't breathe!"
I stop tickling him and shoot him a dirty look before turning just slightly to see if Sephiroth is fuming or laughing. Of course by now I've gotten a little bit more used to the sight and sound of The General, as I watch Him train and follow Zack around enough to meetings and lectures that I see Him more than Zack does.
He is unreadable, doesn't look angry though, so I guess that's good. A small alarm on his watch goes off and he glances at it and pushes a button; so very graceful. "Shit." He mutters, realizing he must be late for some appointment. "Well let's hope that Zack's learned his lesson, right Cloud?"
I blush. He does the little half frown-smirk thing that I think is cute. I blush more and Zack starts laughing. Sephiroth strides to the door with a quiet, confident grace. Every movement, the slight raise of an eyebrow or the whisper of clothing as he shifts commands attention. I wonder why Zack isn't in love with Him too. So beautiful and elegant, how could you not be? I bite my lip.
"Something wrong Cloud? I thought that went well."
"Yeah it did, I guess. But, I mean, do you think that He's . . . beautiful?"
He tosses his head back and laughs. "Yeah, Cloud. I do."
"So you like Him?"
"I like him the same way you do, but I think you're in love with him more than I am." He grows sober. "I really am trying to help you. It hurts me Cloud, to see you long for something that much. You know I'd give you anything if I could."
I smile. "I know Zack, and thanks. Oh and thanks for letting me win."
He grins and throws an arm around my shoulder. "Any time, only no more tickling. Deal?"
"Deal."//
I used to get the feeling that whenever I woke up, something had caused that to happen. Some tremble of earth or quiet sounds. Surely, some attacker was after me, or some natural disaster was about to occur. I know what wakes me up now. The cold, it's freezing out. I glance up into the frosty chill of star sky and let my breath puff before me. Corel was never this cold . . . never. Hell we're even closer to the Gold Saucer than we are to Corel, and it's still cold. I huddle up in my blankets and remember that my clothes were supposed to be drying on the banks. They've probably got little shards of ice stuck to them now. Far from dry. My chocobo is seated quietly to my left, offering a little heat, and Vincent is to my right, offering less heat. Amazing how cold someone can be, physically and emotionally. I used to wonder if he was a reanimated corpse, but I've seen him bleed, seen him cry out in pain too often for him to be a corpse or a vampire. I wonder if he's cold now, if his chocobo is keeping him warm enough. Maybe he doesn't get cold.
I roll over and peer at him. He his huddled in a relatively small ball surrounded by his one blanket. Not asleep, breathing to erratic to be asleep.
"Cold?"
"I didn't know you were awake."
"I wasn't until now."
"What woke you?"
God that voice . . . Sephiroth may have said the same thing to me at one point. Seems so familiar. "Its fucking cold."
"It's always coldest before dawn."
"That late?"
"Yes. See that constellation there?" One slender naked arm creeps out from beneath the warmth of his blanket. My eyes follow the path of his gesture and I see the deep purple-blue nebula at the southeastern horizon. Above it is a cluster of stars that he must be pointing to. "That's Leviathan."
I smile. Yuffie took no longer than three seconds to seize the Leviathan after . . . the battle. Leviathan was always one of my favorites. "I remember. He appears right before the dawn to guide his people from the world of dreams into the world of reality. The world of the day." I realize the irony there, and wonder if I might finally be delivered from my dreams to reality. "Ya know Vincent. If it weren't for you, I don't think I'd know anything at all. I wouldn't even know which is truly real; this, right here or what I dream. All I have to remember now is that, if Vincent is there, then I know it's real."
He turns to look at me and I smile. His face is covered by the blanket with only his eyes to be seen. "I'm very glad I can be of such assistance."
He is painfully sincere, as if he had been pondering that his endeavors were in vain. "Surely you've seen improvement in me." I whisper, I don't know why, perhaps because of my own fear. Have I been improving or worsening? Do I want to improve?
"Only in some ways Cloud, I will not lie to you about this. You've overcome your initial grief and can now at least take care of yourself better. Before you hadn't eaten in a week, and you didn't even notice. Yet though you have been improving there, I fear your mind is still only a labyrinthine tangle of memories and dreams. A tangled vine, in a sense. The vine grows, you remember more, but everything becomes more knotted. That's what we should work on now . . . the deciphering of those memories. Learning which are yours and which are not."
I nod and huddle into my blanket . . . dawn, however close, can take eons to actually occur. I've done this before, laid awake in the darkness of the early morning and waited what seemed eternity in only an hour. It will take longer still to get warm again. I want to tell him about my dream, but it might not even help anything. "Why is it so cold?"
"Winter draws near." He rolls onto his back, the blanket falling away a little. I stare as he places his arms behind his head to cushion him. "And all the areas that were warm, like here, where rich with life stream. But you were there, you saw when it all collected around meteor, at Midgar. It hasn't yet made its cycle back to the rest of the world. It's colder now because of it."
"Oh." He told me everything was important; pieces to the greater whole. "Vincent?"
"Yes Cloud?"
"I had a dream."
"Tell me."
"Zack loved Sephiroth too, but he said that I loved Him more. He worked hard so that I'd have chances to see Him, or listen to Him speak. He told me it hurt him to see me long for something so much. What do you think that means?"
He grows very still and quiet, and somehow darker as if he retreated into shadow to contemplate this. His breath puffs before him in foggy gasps. "A number of things. If we know Zack cared for Sephiroth as well there is a greater possibility of those feelings being reciprocated back Zack and not you. But if Zack truly wanted you to be happy then he may have stilled his feelings for Sephiroth; given him up so that you could have him. Whether or not his undertakings were successful is still, as of yet, unknown." His glowing red eyes peer at me though the darkness. Reminds me of coals, embers, makes me feel warmer.
I remember now how much I used to love the cold. No reason to love it now, no one to keep me warm. Only ice, all around me. And icy Vincent by my side. I shiver inadvertently and look up at the stars again; they have not changed.
"Did they teach you about the constellations in training?" Vincent has turned his gaze away and now seeks out the coldly twinkling stars at the horizon.
"It wasn't part of the core, but Sephiroth taught one of us, me or Zack."
"Do you think that Zack would have told you of constellations while you were in captivity?"
"Five years is a long time to talk."
"Even so, would you really be able to know the constellations simply from being told about them?"
"No . . . but you pointed the stars out for me. Either way it doesn't matter, if Sephiroth had told Zack about stars it was probably as a way to map out the country. It doesn't mean anything, how I know about stars."
He sighs and I watch as his breath disappears into the air. "Perhaps you are right."
I bite my lip and then remember not to. "Do you have an idea? As to who it was?"
He shrugs. "There are things, things that don't add up. Upon recalling your story from the incident at Nibelheim, for example."
"What about it?"
"You asked him about his parents. Surely you would have already known had you two been involved."
I stare at the ground. "Zack may have asked that question . . . or even one of the others. I remember Zack telling me once, that the ShinRa raised Him. I dunno, maybe I didn't believe Zack, maybe I did ask that. But then, you do have a point."
He shakes his head slowly. "I hadn't thought that you might not have been the one to voice that question." He pauses and I see his hand move to rest pensively beneath his chin. He pulls the blanket tight around his once exposed shoulders. "Did Sephiroth know that Hojo was his . . . was his father?"
"I don't think so. You remember what Hojo said at Midgar, just before we killed him. Moreover, Sephiroth spoke of him in a very aloof tone, not of hatred or regret. I don't think He knew."
Vincent has different levels of contemplation. When I speak to him, he is always decisive and calculating. Now looks fearfully speculative. "I see."
Again not the time to bring up the entire issue of fatherhood. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Oh it is only that your conversation outside the gates of Nibelheim would make more sense if no one knew about Hojo. You may have known about his upbringing but never questioned his origin . . . understand?"
"Yeah, I guess." He does have a point. I do not think anyone ever asked Him if He knew who His parents were. The name Jenova was unfamiliar and strange to me when I heard it at Nibelheim; it seemed so even to Sephiroth as the word tripped from His lips. "I remember some of the stories about what Hojo did to Him, and of course I was so shocked that I completely forgot to ask about His parents."
"Nothing really seems to be helping then."
"Maybe it's for the better," I say quietly. Regardless of the outcome of all this, I will not be happy. Either I have killed my friend, my lover, my brother . . . or I have never even tasted what it was like to have such a thing at all. I frown into the dirt and focus only on the sounds of the water rushing past us in tiny, frozen waves. I wiggle my numb toes and wince at the sensation.
"Maybe . . ." He echoes exact tone and pitch. I glance back at him. He too stares forlornly out into the water.
"I once asked Sephiroth what He would do if I became a monster, and He told me he'd become a monster catcher and capture me so He could keep me all to Himself."
He turns those mournful red eyes toward mine and my gaze locks with his. I fight back tears of grief. "You're not a monster Cloud, far from it."
"But I am . . . I am a monster."
"Why would you think that?" He shakes his head and his mournful eyes twinkle beneath cold-starlight.
"Because . . . of you."
He freezes and his eyes go blank.
"I hate to see you so sad, Vincent. You have been mourning and grieving for how long now? Twenty-six years? I am a monster . . . because I want to console you, reach out to you and hold you, keep you close and warm."
His mouth drops a little and he falters . . . looks away back into the water. No puff of air, he is holding his breath. "I can't replace him, Cloud. I wont even try because I know that I can't, just as you cannot replace Lucrecia."
I bow my head. I have to shut up, goddammit, just shut the fuck up before I /ruin/ this. He doesn't /want/ me, and /I/ don't want /him/! "I don't want you to replace Him. I just don't want you to be so sad." Shut UP!
Our gazes lock again and there is tension, both wondering if the other will move. Move forward or away or reach out. No movement at all. We simply sit there, ice blue to fire-red. "I've made so many mistakes." I cannot hear him, the water and cold drowns out his words, and the foggy air obscures his lips. But I still know what he said.
"So have I." I see my hand reach out to him. I am a /monster/! It's not right, never could be. Not when I was so in love with another, not when that other may have loved me too. I don't love Vincent and I never will. I know that I mean nothing to him when compared to Lucrecia, but still, he reaches out his hand and clasps mine. It should seem like nothing, an idle gesture of comfort or friendship. However, between the two of us, two bereaved and soul-dead men like us, it nearly breaks us. The warmth and the tension, almost painful. His fingers are cold and I wonder if mine seem warm to him. I need to pull away but I can't, my hand still outstretched and I see the pain in his eyes is the same as mine. I breath heavily and so does he, not at any sensation of touch, but the /betrayal/. Neither of us pulls away or edges forward, just sit there with our arms outstretched and fingers running gingerly across the knuckles, and palms of the other. I feel that if I pull away, I'll be lost forever, as if by gripping Vincent's shaking hand I will keep my feet on the ground and my mind in the present. It's not cold enough to freeze the tears flowing freely down my face like tiny rivers. Only tears though, no sobs, or frenzied breathing, just tears. My Sephiroth, I wish for a hell intense enough to punish me of my sins, grief alone will not suffice. Grief and betrayal . . . a worse hell than the one I have lived thus far, and I need a worse hell, need it like I need water. As I think this, I let my grip relax and Vincent's does as well. We do not move, I only let Vincent's thumb trace the plains of my palm, almost as if he can read my fortune. I hazard a glance into his eyes and his distress has softened to the dull knowing of pain that is only a reflection of what I feel. I memorize the calluses of Vincent's unfamiliar hands and I know the rough places and the soft places. I know the shape of his bones beneath his skin and I can feel where he has small scars and scratches. His nails are blunt and smooth. His fingers are long. Vincent knows my hands too, knows everything about them now, but still can't manage to rinse the death off.
I don't know how long we are there, only that I pull away abruptly when the first tendrils of light creep across the land. A luminous glow spreads across my face, making me instantly warmer. Vincent pulls away too and I can tell we are both glad for the loss of the other. But it does feed the grief; force me to remember that I am nothing and that I deserve nothing. I don't deserve life or time or air or . . . an apology? Whispered so I barely hear it, perhaps am making it up entirely. I see the sun beyond Vincent's profile and his expression is blank, if not a little austere. "What did you say?"
"Sorry."
I nearly laugh . . . we're both so fucked up. "You told me that I should never apologize, that I shouldn't feel compassion. Are you so different?"
"Yes." A deep breath though his eyes remain focused on the river and he barely moves. "It was wrong of me, to take advantage of you when you were in such a poor mental state."
"Take advantage of me?"
"I . . . I should not have touched you, ever. You might not remember, but when you locked yourself in your room, I . . . it was not much of anything really; I only dried your tears or offered my shoulder so that you might steady yourself. But I shouldn't have when I knew that it might lead to . . . this." His gaze shifts slowly downward and I wonder what he thinks of when he sees the ground.
"Not your fault, and you didn't take advantage of me. You were helping me, still are. You've never hurt me."
"That does not mean that we can behave this way."
My tongue is very poorly behaved today. "Sometimes we need to though, or we'll lose what small shreds of humanity we have. If we lose humanity then we lose memory and emotion. I know that such a fate would be too good for me, I don't want to forget, not ever, and I don't want to feel mitigated from my sins. I don't think you want that either."
"No, I do not."
He says nothing else and his expression is drawn again. The sun is surprisingly warmer than I would have thought. "Do you think our clothes are dry?"
"No."
Barely a whisper, yet no emotion at all. Sephiroth did that, I remember but I cannot tell Vincent. Sephiroth used to withdraw so far into himself that he scarcely seemed human. I remember now but . . . it couldn't have been me, I would /never/ have done something so brash, so impulsive.
"Cloud?"
Not ever.
//"You still don't trust me do you. How long have I been working for you now? Two years? And you still can't stand it to have me look at you or touch you. Why is that Seph, am I really that awful." His eyes on me dead but threatening. "I'm not trying to be mean, I just wanna know why it is that whenever I touch you, you freeze and try to draw away. It's not as if I'm gonna hurt you, hell I don't think I even /could/ hurt you."
His eyes now not focused on me and I watch as his chest rises a little and he takes a deep breath. "There are ways you can hurt me, Zack."
"I don't want to. I want us to be friends." Hardening of expression, lips press tight together and eyes narrow slightly, still not focused.
"Why?"
" . . . Why? I dunno, why not? I want it and you seem like you need it."
"I do not need anything." He tries to leave but I grab his arm and feel the muscles in his bicep flex and tense.
"Seph, come on. Don't be so fucking stubborn." He tries to pull away again and my grip hardens.
He relaxes very slightly. "And once you have me, what would you do. Keep me? Care for me, love me? I have heard it all before . . . all lies, Zack. And I am tired of taking that risk."
I am shocked that he's opened up so much and I watch as he tenses again and his expression turns to stone. "I'm not lying to you Sephiroth. I . . . I love you" Nothing, blankness, darkness, shadows. He tries to pull away again with an almost imperceptible move. My movement is sudden and I am scarcely aware of what I am doing, let alone why. I push him to the wall and he is caught off guard. Then I kiss him, hard on the lips. He struggles weakly before becoming motionless, pressed to the wall. I tear my mouth from his, but do not let go. "Sorry."
A long silence before his hands grip my forearms and for a moment, I feel as if perhaps he will kiss me. "It seems then, Zack, that your idea of love is severely distorted." He pushes me aside and walks quickly away. I do not follow.//
"Cloud?"
I shake my head, wondering what everything means.
"Are you all right?"
I glance over at Vincent, expecting to see the cold, dead quiet of him, but he is concerned. "Yeah, I'm okay."
"Did you remember something?"
"I'm tired of talking about it." The sun is visible now; I wish my clothes were dry so we could leave. "Is there any food?"
"Yes, I'll prepare something for us."
He remains silent as he rustles around in his saddlebag. I can only focus on breathing; it seems very difficult. There are too many emotions and revelations for me to cope with all at once. I am glad for the silence, and I am glad for my relative solitude. I don't think about the remembrance, I don't want to write it down or share it with anyone. I'm so horribly afraid of what it means. I'm afraid that Sephiroth didn't love Zack, I'm afraid that memory is simply the beginnings of a very twisted relationship that I wasn't a part of. I'm afraid . . . afraid of everything.
I want to clear away and sever this vulnerability Don't want to be overwhelmed by this anymore. Revelation of our reflections Runs us sharp like a blade pressed tight So we should ignore how to walk the line today Escape the withering spirit and be free.
//"No, now try again, this time from the left."
How did this happen? What the hell was I thinking? This is all Zack's fault, he manipulated me /again/. I've gotta stop him from doing that to me. It was bad enough when he dared me to start the rumor that Heidegger was actually a woman. Things got even worse when I hit that guy over the head with a bottle for calling me skinny, and the bottle didn't even break, damn glass. Should've known I could stand up for myself /without/ being violent, but no, Zack insisted that if I was gonna be a man I'd start a proper bar fight, and I did. But this, right now, this is fucking ridiculous.
I rush the General and close my eyes.
"How can you see your target if your eyes are closed?"
I open my eyes and stop dead in my tracks, fuck rushing Him; I'll just stare at Him instead. The bitchy thing about Him is that I'm not entirely sure He realizes that He is the single most gorgeous creature to ever grace the Planet with His existence. See now if He realized He was beautiful then He might understand my current state of dumbness. I watch as He puts a hand on His hip and shifts His weight, He actually does this a lot; it's more fun to watch from behind though. I realize that this is His disapproval stance. And I shake my head quickly, close my eyes again, and slash my sword through dead air. I'm vaguely aware of Zack laughing his ass off in the corner.
"Cloud, open your eyes and I said from the /left/."
I crack an eye open and Sephiroth is frowning down at me and then turns toward Zack with a look that says, "Why the fuck did you bring me this kid?" I almost start to hyperventilate. When Zack told me that he had planned a special training session between Sephiroth and me, I almost died then drank a bottle of cold medicine. Good thing too, I'm disconnected and groggy enough to be merely mortified as opposed to painfully aroused or in love or dying.
"Come on Cloud! Don't be intimidated by the General! You don't want him to think you're stupid and weak do you."
Sometimes I really hate Zack . . . a lot. If he's trying to hook me up then he's failing miserably. I sort of feel like crawling under my bunk and staying there forever.
"Why don't you let him try it on /you/ then?"
I look up at Sephiroth and it's difficult to see, but he's angry with Zack. He realizes that /I'm/ angry with Zack too. Oh this'll be sweet. Even if I'm shorter, weaker, less qualified, and less experienced, I am going to beat Zack's ass. He deserves it and then maybe . . . maybe Sephiroth won't think I'm stupid and weak. Maybe He'll even be impressed. And then if he's impressed He might mentor me, or better yet invite me up to His apartments and come up from behind me to tell me how talented and strong and beautiful I am before massaging my shoulders and kissing my neck. And then I could turn to Him and confess my undying love and He'd tell me about His own secret burning desire. Oh! And then we would--"
"Cloud! Quit spacing out! I told you not to take that cold medicine. Now come on, before I tell the whole company that you're a sniveling little girl!"
As if I really needed more incentive to kick his ass. I hope all those zero to hero stories are true and that emotions are all you need to fight well. I've gathered enough information around the barracks to figure out Zack's weaknesses. He's very ticklish . . . that's about it. There are others, but they're too complicated and I'd have to be good enough to trap him, plus I'd have to know nearly every form of martial arts in the world, which I don't. I do know that I'm more slippery that he is, I've wiggled out of a death hold or a bear hug of Zack's more times than I can count. So I rush him, he blocks me, and I step on his foot. Hard. "You're in for it you ass." I whisper this so my pretty angel can't hear me.
"What'd I do?" He brings his hand up to palm the back of my neck in an affectionate motion. He bumps his forehead to mine. The gesture is used often before sparring among the upper ranks; it demonstrates friendship and equality. He looks me in the eyes quickly conveying a silent, serious message. I know what he's thinking. He grabs my waist in a quick movement attempts to throw me down on the mat.
"Feigning innocence Zack? That's getting so old. Try something new." I hop to my feet and as Zack lunges for me I jump back down and roll under him. I spring up behind him and just as he turns, I grab his ribs and start tickling him.
"Not fair! Not faaaiiiirrr!!!!" He collapses on the floor laughing. "Cloud you ass!"
"You're the ass! Just let me know when you give up."
"I give up, now quit it! I can't breathe!"
I stop tickling him and shoot him a dirty look before turning just slightly to see if Sephiroth is fuming or laughing. Of course by now I've gotten a little bit more used to the sight and sound of The General, as I watch Him train and follow Zack around enough to meetings and lectures that I see Him more than Zack does.
He is unreadable, doesn't look angry though, so I guess that's good. A small alarm on his watch goes off and he glances at it and pushes a button; so very graceful. "Shit." He mutters, realizing he must be late for some appointment. "Well let's hope that Zack's learned his lesson, right Cloud?"
I blush. He does the little half frown-smirk thing that I think is cute. I blush more and Zack starts laughing. Sephiroth strides to the door with a quiet, confident grace. Every movement, the slight raise of an eyebrow or the whisper of clothing as he shifts commands attention. I wonder why Zack isn't in love with Him too. So beautiful and elegant, how could you not be? I bite my lip.
"Something wrong Cloud? I thought that went well."
"Yeah it did, I guess. But, I mean, do you think that He's . . . beautiful?"
He tosses his head back and laughs. "Yeah, Cloud. I do."
"So you like Him?"
"I like him the same way you do, but I think you're in love with him more than I am." He grows sober. "I really am trying to help you. It hurts me Cloud, to see you long for something that much. You know I'd give you anything if I could."
I smile. "I know Zack, and thanks. Oh and thanks for letting me win."
He grins and throws an arm around my shoulder. "Any time, only no more tickling. Deal?"
"Deal."//
I used to get the feeling that whenever I woke up, something had caused that to happen. Some tremble of earth or quiet sounds. Surely, some attacker was after me, or some natural disaster was about to occur. I know what wakes me up now. The cold, it's freezing out. I glance up into the frosty chill of star sky and let my breath puff before me. Corel was never this cold . . . never. Hell we're even closer to the Gold Saucer than we are to Corel, and it's still cold. I huddle up in my blankets and remember that my clothes were supposed to be drying on the banks. They've probably got little shards of ice stuck to them now. Far from dry. My chocobo is seated quietly to my left, offering a little heat, and Vincent is to my right, offering less heat. Amazing how cold someone can be, physically and emotionally. I used to wonder if he was a reanimated corpse, but I've seen him bleed, seen him cry out in pain too often for him to be a corpse or a vampire. I wonder if he's cold now, if his chocobo is keeping him warm enough. Maybe he doesn't get cold.
I roll over and peer at him. He his huddled in a relatively small ball surrounded by his one blanket. Not asleep, breathing to erratic to be asleep.
"Cold?"
"I didn't know you were awake."
"I wasn't until now."
"What woke you?"
God that voice . . . Sephiroth may have said the same thing to me at one point. Seems so familiar. "Its fucking cold."
"It's always coldest before dawn."
"That late?"
"Yes. See that constellation there?" One slender naked arm creeps out from beneath the warmth of his blanket. My eyes follow the path of his gesture and I see the deep purple-blue nebula at the southeastern horizon. Above it is a cluster of stars that he must be pointing to. "That's Leviathan."
I smile. Yuffie took no longer than three seconds to seize the Leviathan after . . . the battle. Leviathan was always one of my favorites. "I remember. He appears right before the dawn to guide his people from the world of dreams into the world of reality. The world of the day." I realize the irony there, and wonder if I might finally be delivered from my dreams to reality. "Ya know Vincent. If it weren't for you, I don't think I'd know anything at all. I wouldn't even know which is truly real; this, right here or what I dream. All I have to remember now is that, if Vincent is there, then I know it's real."
He turns to look at me and I smile. His face is covered by the blanket with only his eyes to be seen. "I'm very glad I can be of such assistance."
He is painfully sincere, as if he had been pondering that his endeavors were in vain. "Surely you've seen improvement in me." I whisper, I don't know why, perhaps because of my own fear. Have I been improving or worsening? Do I want to improve?
"Only in some ways Cloud, I will not lie to you about this. You've overcome your initial grief and can now at least take care of yourself better. Before you hadn't eaten in a week, and you didn't even notice. Yet though you have been improving there, I fear your mind is still only a labyrinthine tangle of memories and dreams. A tangled vine, in a sense. The vine grows, you remember more, but everything becomes more knotted. That's what we should work on now . . . the deciphering of those memories. Learning which are yours and which are not."
I nod and huddle into my blanket . . . dawn, however close, can take eons to actually occur. I've done this before, laid awake in the darkness of the early morning and waited what seemed eternity in only an hour. It will take longer still to get warm again. I want to tell him about my dream, but it might not even help anything. "Why is it so cold?"
"Winter draws near." He rolls onto his back, the blanket falling away a little. I stare as he places his arms behind his head to cushion him. "And all the areas that were warm, like here, where rich with life stream. But you were there, you saw when it all collected around meteor, at Midgar. It hasn't yet made its cycle back to the rest of the world. It's colder now because of it."
"Oh." He told me everything was important; pieces to the greater whole. "Vincent?"
"Yes Cloud?"
"I had a dream."
"Tell me."
"Zack loved Sephiroth too, but he said that I loved Him more. He worked hard so that I'd have chances to see Him, or listen to Him speak. He told me it hurt him to see me long for something so much. What do you think that means?"
He grows very still and quiet, and somehow darker as if he retreated into shadow to contemplate this. His breath puffs before him in foggy gasps. "A number of things. If we know Zack cared for Sephiroth as well there is a greater possibility of those feelings being reciprocated back Zack and not you. But if Zack truly wanted you to be happy then he may have stilled his feelings for Sephiroth; given him up so that you could have him. Whether or not his undertakings were successful is still, as of yet, unknown." His glowing red eyes peer at me though the darkness. Reminds me of coals, embers, makes me feel warmer.
I remember now how much I used to love the cold. No reason to love it now, no one to keep me warm. Only ice, all around me. And icy Vincent by my side. I shiver inadvertently and look up at the stars again; they have not changed.
"Did they teach you about the constellations in training?" Vincent has turned his gaze away and now seeks out the coldly twinkling stars at the horizon.
"It wasn't part of the core, but Sephiroth taught one of us, me or Zack."
"Do you think that Zack would have told you of constellations while you were in captivity?"
"Five years is a long time to talk."
"Even so, would you really be able to know the constellations simply from being told about them?"
"No . . . but you pointed the stars out for me. Either way it doesn't matter, if Sephiroth had told Zack about stars it was probably as a way to map out the country. It doesn't mean anything, how I know about stars."
He sighs and I watch as his breath disappears into the air. "Perhaps you are right."
I bite my lip and then remember not to. "Do you have an idea? As to who it was?"
He shrugs. "There are things, things that don't add up. Upon recalling your story from the incident at Nibelheim, for example."
"What about it?"
"You asked him about his parents. Surely you would have already known had you two been involved."
I stare at the ground. "Zack may have asked that question . . . or even one of the others. I remember Zack telling me once, that the ShinRa raised Him. I dunno, maybe I didn't believe Zack, maybe I did ask that. But then, you do have a point."
He shakes his head slowly. "I hadn't thought that you might not have been the one to voice that question." He pauses and I see his hand move to rest pensively beneath his chin. He pulls the blanket tight around his once exposed shoulders. "Did Sephiroth know that Hojo was his . . . was his father?"
"I don't think so. You remember what Hojo said at Midgar, just before we killed him. Moreover, Sephiroth spoke of him in a very aloof tone, not of hatred or regret. I don't think He knew."
Vincent has different levels of contemplation. When I speak to him, he is always decisive and calculating. Now looks fearfully speculative. "I see."
Again not the time to bring up the entire issue of fatherhood. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Oh it is only that your conversation outside the gates of Nibelheim would make more sense if no one knew about Hojo. You may have known about his upbringing but never questioned his origin . . . understand?"
"Yeah, I guess." He does have a point. I do not think anyone ever asked Him if He knew who His parents were. The name Jenova was unfamiliar and strange to me when I heard it at Nibelheim; it seemed so even to Sephiroth as the word tripped from His lips. "I remember some of the stories about what Hojo did to Him, and of course I was so shocked that I completely forgot to ask about His parents."
"Nothing really seems to be helping then."
"Maybe it's for the better," I say quietly. Regardless of the outcome of all this, I will not be happy. Either I have killed my friend, my lover, my brother . . . or I have never even tasted what it was like to have such a thing at all. I frown into the dirt and focus only on the sounds of the water rushing past us in tiny, frozen waves. I wiggle my numb toes and wince at the sensation.
"Maybe . . ." He echoes exact tone and pitch. I glance back at him. He too stares forlornly out into the water.
"I once asked Sephiroth what He would do if I became a monster, and He told me he'd become a monster catcher and capture me so He could keep me all to Himself."
He turns those mournful red eyes toward mine and my gaze locks with his. I fight back tears of grief. "You're not a monster Cloud, far from it."
"But I am . . . I am a monster."
"Why would you think that?" He shakes his head and his mournful eyes twinkle beneath cold-starlight.
"Because . . . of you."
He freezes and his eyes go blank.
"I hate to see you so sad, Vincent. You have been mourning and grieving for how long now? Twenty-six years? I am a monster . . . because I want to console you, reach out to you and hold you, keep you close and warm."
His mouth drops a little and he falters . . . looks away back into the water. No puff of air, he is holding his breath. "I can't replace him, Cloud. I wont even try because I know that I can't, just as you cannot replace Lucrecia."
I bow my head. I have to shut up, goddammit, just shut the fuck up before I /ruin/ this. He doesn't /want/ me, and /I/ don't want /him/! "I don't want you to replace Him. I just don't want you to be so sad." Shut UP!
Our gazes lock again and there is tension, both wondering if the other will move. Move forward or away or reach out. No movement at all. We simply sit there, ice blue to fire-red. "I've made so many mistakes." I cannot hear him, the water and cold drowns out his words, and the foggy air obscures his lips. But I still know what he said.
"So have I." I see my hand reach out to him. I am a /monster/! It's not right, never could be. Not when I was so in love with another, not when that other may have loved me too. I don't love Vincent and I never will. I know that I mean nothing to him when compared to Lucrecia, but still, he reaches out his hand and clasps mine. It should seem like nothing, an idle gesture of comfort or friendship. However, between the two of us, two bereaved and soul-dead men like us, it nearly breaks us. The warmth and the tension, almost painful. His fingers are cold and I wonder if mine seem warm to him. I need to pull away but I can't, my hand still outstretched and I see the pain in his eyes is the same as mine. I breath heavily and so does he, not at any sensation of touch, but the /betrayal/. Neither of us pulls away or edges forward, just sit there with our arms outstretched and fingers running gingerly across the knuckles, and palms of the other. I feel that if I pull away, I'll be lost forever, as if by gripping Vincent's shaking hand I will keep my feet on the ground and my mind in the present. It's not cold enough to freeze the tears flowing freely down my face like tiny rivers. Only tears though, no sobs, or frenzied breathing, just tears. My Sephiroth, I wish for a hell intense enough to punish me of my sins, grief alone will not suffice. Grief and betrayal . . . a worse hell than the one I have lived thus far, and I need a worse hell, need it like I need water. As I think this, I let my grip relax and Vincent's does as well. We do not move, I only let Vincent's thumb trace the plains of my palm, almost as if he can read my fortune. I hazard a glance into his eyes and his distress has softened to the dull knowing of pain that is only a reflection of what I feel. I memorize the calluses of Vincent's unfamiliar hands and I know the rough places and the soft places. I know the shape of his bones beneath his skin and I can feel where he has small scars and scratches. His nails are blunt and smooth. His fingers are long. Vincent knows my hands too, knows everything about them now, but still can't manage to rinse the death off.
I don't know how long we are there, only that I pull away abruptly when the first tendrils of light creep across the land. A luminous glow spreads across my face, making me instantly warmer. Vincent pulls away too and I can tell we are both glad for the loss of the other. But it does feed the grief; force me to remember that I am nothing and that I deserve nothing. I don't deserve life or time or air or . . . an apology? Whispered so I barely hear it, perhaps am making it up entirely. I see the sun beyond Vincent's profile and his expression is blank, if not a little austere. "What did you say?"
"Sorry."
I nearly laugh . . . we're both so fucked up. "You told me that I should never apologize, that I shouldn't feel compassion. Are you so different?"
"Yes." A deep breath though his eyes remain focused on the river and he barely moves. "It was wrong of me, to take advantage of you when you were in such a poor mental state."
"Take advantage of me?"
"I . . . I should not have touched you, ever. You might not remember, but when you locked yourself in your room, I . . . it was not much of anything really; I only dried your tears or offered my shoulder so that you might steady yourself. But I shouldn't have when I knew that it might lead to . . . this." His gaze shifts slowly downward and I wonder what he thinks of when he sees the ground.
"Not your fault, and you didn't take advantage of me. You were helping me, still are. You've never hurt me."
"That does not mean that we can behave this way."
My tongue is very poorly behaved today. "Sometimes we need to though, or we'll lose what small shreds of humanity we have. If we lose humanity then we lose memory and emotion. I know that such a fate would be too good for me, I don't want to forget, not ever, and I don't want to feel mitigated from my sins. I don't think you want that either."
"No, I do not."
He says nothing else and his expression is drawn again. The sun is surprisingly warmer than I would have thought. "Do you think our clothes are dry?"
"No."
Barely a whisper, yet no emotion at all. Sephiroth did that, I remember but I cannot tell Vincent. Sephiroth used to withdraw so far into himself that he scarcely seemed human. I remember now but . . . it couldn't have been me, I would /never/ have done something so brash, so impulsive.
"Cloud?"
Not ever.
//"You still don't trust me do you. How long have I been working for you now? Two years? And you still can't stand it to have me look at you or touch you. Why is that Seph, am I really that awful." His eyes on me dead but threatening. "I'm not trying to be mean, I just wanna know why it is that whenever I touch you, you freeze and try to draw away. It's not as if I'm gonna hurt you, hell I don't think I even /could/ hurt you."
His eyes now not focused on me and I watch as his chest rises a little and he takes a deep breath. "There are ways you can hurt me, Zack."
"I don't want to. I want us to be friends." Hardening of expression, lips press tight together and eyes narrow slightly, still not focused.
"Why?"
" . . . Why? I dunno, why not? I want it and you seem like you need it."
"I do not need anything." He tries to leave but I grab his arm and feel the muscles in his bicep flex and tense.
"Seph, come on. Don't be so fucking stubborn." He tries to pull away again and my grip hardens.
He relaxes very slightly. "And once you have me, what would you do. Keep me? Care for me, love me? I have heard it all before . . . all lies, Zack. And I am tired of taking that risk."
I am shocked that he's opened up so much and I watch as he tenses again and his expression turns to stone. "I'm not lying to you Sephiroth. I . . . I love you" Nothing, blankness, darkness, shadows. He tries to pull away again with an almost imperceptible move. My movement is sudden and I am scarcely aware of what I am doing, let alone why. I push him to the wall and he is caught off guard. Then I kiss him, hard on the lips. He struggles weakly before becoming motionless, pressed to the wall. I tear my mouth from his, but do not let go. "Sorry."
A long silence before his hands grip my forearms and for a moment, I feel as if perhaps he will kiss me. "It seems then, Zack, that your idea of love is severely distorted." He pushes me aside and walks quickly away. I do not follow.//
"Cloud?"
I shake my head, wondering what everything means.
"Are you all right?"
I glance over at Vincent, expecting to see the cold, dead quiet of him, but he is concerned. "Yeah, I'm okay."
"Did you remember something?"
"I'm tired of talking about it." The sun is visible now; I wish my clothes were dry so we could leave. "Is there any food?"
"Yes, I'll prepare something for us."
He remains silent as he rustles around in his saddlebag. I can only focus on breathing; it seems very difficult. There are too many emotions and revelations for me to cope with all at once. I am glad for the silence, and I am glad for my relative solitude. I don't think about the remembrance, I don't want to write it down or share it with anyone. I'm so horribly afraid of what it means. I'm afraid that Sephiroth didn't love Zack, I'm afraid that memory is simply the beginnings of a very twisted relationship that I wasn't a part of. I'm afraid . . . afraid of everything.