Sephiroth: You Honestly Think I Could Stay Away?


I did return to that street corner to see her. I was there the next night, and the night after that, and the one after that, until it seemed as though I'd never done anything else. If she had been anyone else, perhaps I might have grown bored with seeing her more often, pehaps the long trip down under the plate would become too tedious, but it never happened. If anything, I wanted to be near her more than ever.

It was unnerving, for I had always been the kind of man who had a different girl every week if I wanted. I had never been very social, but even my acquaintances started wondering where I went every night. There were a few quiet jokes about the Honey Bee inn, though no one felt brave enough to say anything to my face.

It suited me just fine. So long as I did my job during the day, no one cared where I spent my nights.

I began walking Aerith back to her church. She brought me there one night, to show me the miracle that was her garden. I remember seeing it, the broken roof, the bucket of tools on the altar, the bits of stained glass that still somehow managed to cling to their frames. I listened to her talk about how pieces of sunlight filtered down here, though how they managed that, I will never know. This deep under the plate, people went their whole lives without seeing the sky.

Bit by bit, we learned about each other, reading the meanings under our words and watching each other carefully. I told her about my childhood, about growing up in the lab and then with the other boys. She told me about coming to Midgar in the night, her mother's death, and Elmyra's—her stepmother's—charity. I made her laugh with my descriptions of tedious dinners and the dignitaries who attended them.

At one point we found ourselves talking about past loves. I hadn't any; I'd never had the time for serious relationships, though I almost always had someone on my arm for publicity purposes. After I amused her with tales of some of the bolder women I'd met, it was her turn.

She told me about a SOLDIER named Zax.


Zax. I gave him as much work to do as he wanted. The man was a veritable workhorse. I treated him like any other soldier, expecting nothing but the best from him. I know I worked him hard, but he would have taken it as a sign of weakness if I hadn't.

He hid his bitterness well. I always knew he nursed his hurt at being displaced when I arrived, but what could I do? I was as much a puppet as he was. We were both always under ShinRa's rule, ShinRa's thumbs. The President, that fat bastard—well, he was—led us around the globe to do his bidding, then paraded us in front of the masses. He was shrewd, too, because when people protested the war on Wutai, whom do you think took the heat? Certainly not Mr. President. And because I was the golden boy, usually the blame for failure fell on Zax.

I didn't want it that way. Zax was always philosophical about it. At least, his words were. Gods, if I ever failed anyone in my life, it was him. The man was six years older than me, but he had to stand and take whatever abuse the President heaped upon him. I tried to intervene once, but both he and the President looked straight at me as if I were speaking in tongues. They both understood what was going on, and I was just an intruder.

After that, I didn't interfere.

I'd been General for five years when things seemed to start looking up. I was twenty-three by then, and already a veteran several times over. Zax was almost twenty-nine. One day, he came into my office, whistling. I remember him leaning insolently in the doorway, waiting for me to acknowledge him. He had big news, obviously, but I decided to see how long it would take before he blurted it out.

His posture grew strained, as if pretending to be nonchalant was difficult work. Finally I relented and looked up. "Yes, Lieutenant?" I'm sure I smirked.

"'Bout damn time you asked," he grumbled, taking a one of the chairs in front of my desk and flopping down into it. "I met her."

"Who?" Another thing about him; he was always meeting the girl of his dreams. At last count, about eight different girls were 'the one', though that wasn't counting the ones he dated in between.

"The One." When I scoffed and went back to my paperwork, he protested. "No, gods, Sephiroth, you don't get it. She is the One!" He leapt up and began pacing the room. "She's got these eyes…"

"Blue?" I asked, not looking up.

"No, fuck you, they're green," he said without much heat. "Green, like…like…rose petals…" He seemed to catch himself. "And this smile…gods! And hair…"

"Really, she has hair?" I couldn't resist the quip.

He stopped pacing and put both hands flat on my desk. "Seph, I'm serious. She's beautiful." He waited until I finally did look up at him. "I'm gonna marry her, I swear."

Now, that was odd. Zax was talking about marriage? Maybe she was the one. Gods knew, she must have been the only woman he hadn't slept with until now. "Really?" I remained skeptical.

"Seph," he said, very quietly, "I haven't even slept with her."

To hear him admit that he hadn't been with a woman, especially one he was that head over heels for, was about the same as hearing that Hojo had found a specimen too perfect to cut open. I shoved THAT pleasant image aside and peered up at him. There was one last suspicion in my mind… "Zax, how old is she?"

"Dammit, Seph, you think that's the only thing keeping me from—"

"I know you."

He looked sheepish. "She's sixteen." At my expression, he hastily added, "But that's not what's keeping me from—"

Honestly, sometimes I felt like the older one. "Zax," I stopped him, "She's half your age. For the gods' sake, there have to be women around who won't get you landed in jail for something statutory!" He prepared to defend himself, but I barely gave him time to draw breath. Slapping a file down on my desk, I became General Sephiroth instead of just Seph. "I need your mind on your job, Lieutenant. Your next assignment is in Nibelheim, where you will inspect the reactor. Get a team together and be prepared to leave tomorrow morning."

"But Seph—General, I'm supposed to take her out on the town tomorrow!"

"You'll have to put those plans on hold, then. This just came down from the President, not half an hour before you arrived. I want you on that transport first thing in the morning." I waited for any further outbursts from him, but there were none. He couldn't ignore orders from the President. "Is there anything else you wished to discuss, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir." Zax was cold, angry at me, but more angry at ShinRa.

"Then you are dismissed. Choose your team and report back here for your official orders. I will have them ready for you by then."

He saluted stiffly, then turned on his heel to go.

It was the last time I'd ever see him. The reactor exploded, killing him, his team, and burning the town to the ground. I went to his memorial service and laid flowers on his grave marker.


"I'm glad you didn't let him meet me that last time," Aerith murmured.

"Why?" I was baffled. "I always thought, from what Zax said…"

"I didn't really like him." She colored, slightly ashamed. "It's terrible of me to say that about someone who's dead, I know, but he scared me. I think—if he'd thought he would be gone a while, he would have—well." She shook herself and looked up at me from where she sat on the altar steps. "It's all in the past, anyway. It's too bad he died. He wasn't a bad person."

And that was that. We moved on to safer, less charged topics.

Days went by, then weeks. Every night I could get away, I met her on her corner while my men ran a wild-goose chase on the other side of the City.

I was supposed to be hunting her, but no one had ever bothered to tell me why. When I discovered what Hojo planned, what he and the President wanted to do with her, I started imagining ways to kill them both. Hojo had convinced the President that the fabled Promised Land of the Cetra held the key to more money, more power than ShinRa already had. It was not difficult from there to make a suggestion that they find her, and experiment upon the very last living being with Cetra blood.

I was disgusted and furious. How could they think that way? How could they make their plans as though she had no feelings? She wasn't a doll, a toy for their greedy paws to play with! She was a living, breathing, beautiful woman. How could they think to treat her like…like…

Me?

Just like…me.

That should have been my first clue that I was changing. It wasn't until I'd been seeing her for almost three months that things truly became clear to me. I needed to get out of Midgar, away from ShinRa, and I needed to take Aerith with me. She, however, was reluctant to go until she knew that her stepmother would be cared for.

The old woman had cancer. It wasn't uncommon under the Plate, but despite its frequency, it was rare for most people to afford the treatment they needed. Once I learned the full scope of Elmyra's illness, I checked her into a hospital above the Plate and set up a self-perpetuating fund with some of my formerly useless earnings. I didn't need the money, anyway; I was rich beyond anything I would ever need. Besides, there was some selfishness in the act of kindness: it meant that Aerith and I could see each other alone.

Things between us had accelerated, one might say. I began staying the night at her house, then would hurry home in the wee hours of the morning. Whenever it rained, I would take her above the Plate to visit her stepmother, then escort her back home.

I made an offer one night without considering the possible consequences.

Not once did it cross my mind that someone might see us. I just wanted to show her my apartment, and the view of Midgar I'd always told her about. All we had to do was remain silent, because all private rooms in the ShinRa Tower were bugged. I told her to keep her head down as we went through the Tower's echoing main lobby to the elevators. "Don't speak," I murmured, "Just nod or shake your head. I'll just show you around and make some coffee, then we'll go."

It didn't quite work that way, of course. We stepped into my apartment on the 15th floor, our footsteps muffled by the heavy black carpet. I went into the kitchen as she walked around the room, running her hands over the back of the couch, along the sleek surface of the bar. Once the coffee had been started, I joined her in looking out the huge plate-glass window at Midgar sprawled below. We stood there for a while, my arms about her from behind, and then I took her hand to show her the rest of the place.

I led her down the hall to show her my library office, the bathroom…the bedroom, of course. It was surreal, to be doing this without speaking. The only sounds we made were from the rustle of our clothing and the occasional sigh. It pricked at the back of my mind then, that perhaps I shouldn't have brought her here.

She had walked a few steps ahead of me, taking in my spare furnishings. When she realized I wasn't beside her, she turned to look at me, a question on her face. Every thought in my head stopped.

She was beautiful, standing in the middle of my room, the only light coming from the city below. All the warnings, all the things I should have been worrying about just disappeared like smoke as I crossed to her. I hadn't meant for it to happen like that, but I couldn't avoid it.

Suddenly it was very important that we get to the bed. How we managed it all in total silence, I'll never know, but it was worth every bit of the effort of sneaking around. It was amazing to see that glorious hair spread out over my pillows, her skin creamy pale against the black sheets, her eyes half-closed the few times I pulled away from her mouth to look down at her. I wished I could shout her name aloud, but all I could do was bury my face in the pillow beside her head and pray she heard my thoughts in those last few moments.

Gods.

We both knew we had to leave, but neither of us was willing to move. At last, I forced myself to get out of bed. Midgar still shone up at me, its multicolored lights flickering for as far as I could see. The possible gravity of our situation still hadn't sunk in yet, but there were tiny thoughts coming to the surface of my mind.

All my life, I'd followed orders, given orders, fought for ShinRa and its bloated sense of importance. But why? Certainly not because I'd wanted to. I had been born to ShinRa, created to serve ShinRa's purposes, no matter how clearly I saw through their flattery and lies. Hojo had bullied me, me, Sephiroth, the most powerful man on the Planet save the President, and I had always let him.

But what was the purpose? Why should I let them control me? Why should I continue to put so much effort into perpetuating an entity I hated? I glanced back at the bed when she stirred. That was something worthwhile. Would I give my life for ShinRa? If it really came down to it? Never. Would I die for her, though?

Without a second thought. And then if I was revived, I'd let them kill me again.

Then what should I do about it? She needed to be taken away from Midgar, to someplace safe. She couldn't stay here, not where ShinRa could find her. I had to get her out of here. Somehow.

Whatever had to be done, it would wait. I needed to get her out of the Tower and back home under the Plate before anyone found us out.

I didn't know that it was already too late.