A/N: If I was JENOVA, I would be rubbing my hands together and cackling to myself. Wait. I already am rubbing my hands together and cackling to myself.
Warning: Much A/U and OOC, not to mention confusion and more confusion.
Requiem
Chapter 5: Bittersweet
"Any evidence to prove his claims?"
"He didn't have to."
Sephiroth frowned thoughtfully at the conviction brimming in Zack's calm eyes and would have trusted his lieutenant's judgement without question if not for that concern screaming at the back of his mind from the thought that Hojo had been the one to request the mission. The implications were not pleasant. Sephiroth could hardly believe that Hojo would be careless enough as to assign Zack a mission where such vital information could so easily leak out. But if Hojo knew of the possibility yet risked exposure, then surely he would have accounted for the inconvenience and planned accordingly?
"What would you have me do?"
"Find us a mission," whispered Zack, his voice betraying his anxiety. "Make us disappear."
"The last mission that required the services of a general—outside of publicity for ShinRa—had been when the reactor in Corel showed abnormal activity, and that had occurred well over seven months ago. How do you propose I make two generals and a lieutenant disappear on a whim?" Sephiroth could feel the start of a headache forming in his right temple, and briefly wondered why 'she' had been so restless lately. "And—" interrupted Sephiroth when he saw Zack open his mouth to protest, "should we manage to escape, we shall be hunted down like dogs." Sephiroth knew the sensation, forced to experience the numb fear as he grasped Masamune tighter in his blood-slicked hand, pressing his other hand deeper against the wound in his abdomen and wondering if the people who wanted him dead were still chasing him across that desolate stretch of Wutai.
"Even we have our limits."
Zack felt a surge of anger and hatred pool hotly at the bottom of his stomach at the knowledge that even the great General Sephiroth—the man everyone adored for his invincibility—would so openly admit weakness. But…he knew, deep down—though he did not want to admit it—what Sephiroth truly wanted to say…. Even if they could persist past the vigilant pursue and the persisting battles, his own strength will inevitably and ultimately fail, and Sephiroth…Sephiroth will fall with him.
"I know," replied Zack bitterly as he directed his heated glare away from those emerald eyes and onto the stacks of papers piled neatly on top of the immaculate metal desk.
Sometimes, he truly wondered what they were living for.
Cloud groggily opened his eyes, momentarily blinking away the haze clouding his eyesight from having slept well for once. The heat encircling his bare feet and hands felt utterly blissful in the coldness of his room, and the slight headache he received for having slumbered much more than he normally did felt oddly pleasant. He slowly sat up, absentmindedly listening to the blankets shift around his torso, and turned to gaze at the autumn, gray skies overhanging Midgar.
He hated the cold, because he never had any fond memories of the cold, but he grudgingly acknowledged its necessity.
Cloud wondered when he would meet Tifa again after her departure back to Nibelheim, and could not deny that he would have liked her to stay longer, because, despite his memory lapse, he knew that she was important to him. Frowning slightly, he turned his head away from the window and towards the clock located on the table drawer to his right side, momentarily entranced by the eerie green glow forming the digits.
10:46.
The corners of his lips twisted into a slight grimace at the thought that Hojo had schedule an appointment—delightfully referred to as a 'regular checkup' by the professor—for him that afternoon. Dread clawed and fluttered in his abdomen at the thought of the torture his body would have to endure. He reluctantly clambered off the bed—immediately craving the warmth as cold air rushed past his clothing and formed goose bumps over his skin—and headed across the carpeted floor towards the bureau where he stored his clothing—
His pupils dilated as the world tilted slightly with each step he took until he felt vertigo-induced nausea overwhelm his senses and force him to pause in the middle of the room, waiting for the room to right itself again. He swallowed thickly, desperately fighting the gag reflex as bile threatened to spill out of his throat, and felt his right temple throb painfully from a scar he could not remember ever receiving.
\…soon…\ 'Mother' hummed eagerly in his mind.
Cloud closed his eyes tightly. Memories he forgot rushed out of control through his mind and he reached out to grasp them—
—A beautiful woman with dark brown hair smiled at him, her—
—emerald eyes twinkling in mock anger as she—
—told him that he was dying, and /Cloud, live for me…Live for me and fulfill my dreams…/— (1)
—He choked slightly as air—horribly cold air—rushed into his lungs, and his cerulean eyes, wild and unfocused, shot open as the queasiness passed as sudden as it came. He furrowed his eyebrows as a myriad of emotions he could not and did not want to name coursed through his entire frame, and longed for that peace he had sought for so long standing at that…!
He blinked in confusion as he realized his hand clutched his clothing tight enough for his knuckles to turn white, and stared for a moment contemplating what he had been doing for the past few minutes to cause such a violent reaction. Nothing. He recalled nothing. He could not even remember when he had arrived at the bureau, nor recollect selecting the clothes in his hands. He felt a surge of anger course through him.
He hated nothing more than he hated the cold.
Zack caught a glimpse of blond hair as he was about to turn the corner, and backtracked—nearly falling over from craning his neck, much to the amusement of passerby's—before letting a grin break out on his face. Jogging slightly, he carefully 'crept up' on his unsuspecting victim and then swung his arm around those slender shoulders, laughing softly as he felt a slight jolt from the startled boy.
"Hey Spike!" greeted Zack as he caught the nonplussed glare from his favorite chocobo-head, and grinned wider at the mental image of seeing Cloud pout—though he suspected he might die a horrible, horrible death before he would ever see the boy pout. "So…" Zack wagged his left eyebrow suggestively before leaning towards that mess of golden hair and whispering, "how was the date with Miss Tifa?"
"It was…" hesitated Cloud, and Zack almost snickered at seeing a small flush adorn those normally pale cheeks. "…nice."
"Only nice?" prompted Zack, squeezing Cloud's shoulders slightly, and Cloud twisted his head around to glare at the lieutenant because that movement aggravated his bandaged arm and caused a sharp, throbbing pain to pulse through the previously numb appendage. Cloud clenched and unclenched his fist several times, gradually easing the pain, and let out a small puff of breath as the numbness returned.
"You don't need to get so defensive, Spike," chuckled Zack softly as he held up his hands to pacify the boy, mistakenly assuming the furrowing of those smooth eyebrows and the curling of those thin digits as signs of exasperation. "Don't worry though…" The corners of Cloud's lips twitched slightly downwards when Zack wagged his eyebrows again and grinned gleefully, but, despite everything, he…he liked Zack's joking and friendly manner. "I'll make sure you confess your undying love for me when I take you out on that date you owe me!"
"I'm sure," replied Cloud in a dismissive manner.
Zack faked a hurt expression and placed his hand on his chest dramatically, whining a "That hurts, Spike!" that Cloud could not help but smile at—before he flushed slightly in embarrassment when Zack leaned in close to peer at his face. "You should smile more. You look nice when you do it. Well, maybe you shouldn't smile all the time…" Zack gazed around suspiciously before leaning conspiratorially towards Cloud once again, causing the latter to involuntarily shiver as he felt the other's breath so close to his skin. "The girls might go crazy—"
/…older girlfriend to take care of you…/
Cloud frowned at that stray thought and could have sworn that he had a conversation like this once, but…
"…And Seph pinned you against the wall and screwed your brains out, right?"
"…What?" blurted Cloud in horror when he registered the words Zack spewed out.
"You and Seph are both such terrific listeners," laughed Zack as he flicked Cloud's forehead, much to the annoyance of the other. "But I guess…" Zack trailed off as he stared steadily into those bright MAKO-infused pupils, noticing that gorgeous azure had gradually been replaced by a repulsively hazy emerald.
…I like you guys the way you are. He grinned at Cloud instead. After all, he did not mind filling in the silences left by those two anyway.
Sephiroth stared blankly down at the piece of paper lying innocently on his desk, his mind racing ahead of itself as his eyes once more skimmed over the information stated on the report to make sure he had not misread the words.
'Location: Nibelheim Reactor.'
'Threat Level: Undetermined.'
Missions marked with the word 'Undetermined' were rare on the basis that the Turks—the Intelligence Department of the ShinRa Company—would rather sacrifice lives than not collect the desired information. The corrupt ways of the Turks—the bribing, the blackmailing, the killing—were widely known by the populace inhabiting the lands surrounding Midgar, causing people to fear the so-called "gangsters" even as they contradictorily extolled the ShinRa Company. (2)
/…Nibelheim is too small of a town to keep digital files…/
Sephiroth had no doubt that the ShinRa Company had minimal interest in small towns where the profits from the reactor were negligible…the only logical explanation for such a high-class mission for a decrepit reactor in a no-name town would be that Hojo orchestrated it. 'Mother' laughingly cooed that no mortal man could stop 'her' precious son should the mission turn out foul, and not to mention, if Hojo wanted to finish his silly little experiments, then surely he would need his favorite specimen to stay in Midgar, where he had his equipment? 'She' maliciously pointed out the fact that all mortals are prone to laziness now and then, including those despicable Turks, because \…remember, the Turks…they had you go out to your death more than once during the war…\
Sephiroth frowned at those particularly unsavory memories from his childhood. (3)
"Seph?"
Shaking his head briefly to clear his mind, Sephiroth lifted his eyes to observe the vibrant violet eyes on that concerned face, and silently picked up the piece of paper he had been blankly staring at before handing it to his lieutenant. That look of worry disappeared from Zack's face and was instead replaced by a look of confusion, and Sephiroth felt something twist in his abdomen even as that same something lift off of his shoulders.
"Mission to Nibelheim Reactor." Sephiroth heard his own voice spill out from between his lips as if from miles away, and forcefully pushed past the distractions in his mind to focus on that small downward curve in Zack's lips. He wanted Zack to smile, to openly laugh, to have that spark of innocent joy emanating from his entire being, like when he first met the dark-haired boy before everything…
"…Think it's a trap?"
"Yes."
Sephiroth voicelessly watched the multitude of emotions flicker past those expressive eyes, causing that smooth forehead to wrinkle in contemplation and those tense muscles to stand out on that strong neck. He felt awed at the display of emotions that Zack—or any person really—showed, because he never felt any unconscious urges to change his facial expression even at a young age, even before he discovered he was not like other children.
"So…that's it, huh?" Zack felt the sudden, irrational urge to laugh.
"…'She'…" Sephiroth hesitated bringing 'her' into any conversation he held with Zack because the latter seemed to hold a vendetta against that constant presence in his mind; he learned to avoid speaking of 'her'—of 'JENOVA', the scientists told him—because he hated seeing that morose and angry expression line that normally smiling face. "…'She'…" Sephiroth paused momentarily when he noticed that small spark of anger and hatred flicker through Zack's vibrant violet eyes before a look of desperate contemplation settled over them once again. "…'She' does not believe it is a trap…because Hojo needs us here. Transporting Strife here from Nibelheim…is indication enough that he cannot complete his experiments there."
"I guess…" Zack forced a smile to cross his lips, but even he could tell that the smile would not reach his eyes. "…I will trust 'her' this time. After all…" Zack trailed off as he skimmed over the information on the report once again before letting out a small chortle of laughter, mirthless and hollow despite his efforts to hide it. "…We don't have much of a choice, do we? I guess I'll go tell Spike then?" (3)
Sephiroth mutely watched Zack meander towards the door to his office.
"If it does end up being a trap though…" murmured Zack as his hand touched the cold metal handle of the door, his eyes slowly following the grain lines on the polished mahogany door down until they landed on the small, faded scars on his callous hand. "We—"
"We'll escape," deadpanned Sephiroth.
Zack smiled genuinely to himself.
He had Sephiroth's conviction.
"I coulda sworn it was this way!" muttered Zack to himself in frustration as he wandered past the mountains and mountains of rubble lining the sides of the road leading towards Sector 5, huffing out a breath at the sight of that particular pile of rubble that—Wait a minute. That statue-thing looks rather familiar…. He threw his arms up in the air before shouting out, "Gah! I think I passed by this way before!"
He seriously wondered how anyone could navigate past these miles of trackless junk, because all he could see was decayed junk piled on top of rusted junk, with more junk subsequently piled on top of that junk! He had not passed by a single person since he had wandered out of Sector 6 and knew beyond a doubt that this ridiculous wandering-aimlessly-around-in-a-circle-for-the-past-half-hour must be the reason why the people simply did not travel between the Sectors. Just making that single visit must be the biggest hassle in life!
All he had wanted to do when he set out that morning was to find that pretty girl before he went on his mission the following day—What was her name again? Pretty sure it was Aerith or something….He had promised her that he would visit her, and, well, I'm not quite sure when I'll be back in Midgar after tomorrow…
His patience finally ran out and he gingerly climbed up on top of the rather unstable-looking pile of junk to hopefully get a better view of his surroundings, letting out an annoyed but triumphant "Aha!" when he located his bearings. Deciding that the junk felt sturdy enough to support his weight, he opted to continue the rest of his trek on top of the accursed mountains of junk instead of risking getting lost again.
Zack grinned in satisfaction as the piles of junk gradually diminished in size until he could no longer see any piece of scrap metal lying on the dirt floor, and felt an odd sense of gratification at the sight of that opening in the wall leading into the Sector. Passing through, he grinned somewhat sheepishly at the passerby's who stared at him openly—some in utter hatred because he lived on the Plate while they lived in poverty and others in surprise because ShinRa personnel rarely passed through these areas. He knew of the horrors that the citizens forced to live in the slums of Midgar suffered through, but also understood that he was powerless to help them outside of eliminating the occasional threat that became a large enough nuisance for the Turks to notice.
He picked up his pace as he saw the silhouette of the Sector 5 Church looming in the distance, waving cheekily at some of the giggling girls he passed by despite the disapproving glares sent his way by their parents. Now that he did not have other pressing matters to distract him, he finally took in the magnificence and the beauty of the Church, despite the repairs the edifice desperately needed. The gray walls—scratched and eroded from withstanding the weather and the pollution—displayed a small collection of trembling, delicate ivy clinging precariously to the rock face and to the large oaken doors standing proudly at the entrance of the Church. He could believe that at one point in the distant past, the Church must have been a truly breathless sight to behold.
Zack gently pushed against the rusted metal handles adorning the doors—the wood surrounding the screws holding the handles in place had been rotted away by the rain and eaten away by termites—and heard a large creak as the hinges protested to the movement. He peered inside and saw the sunlight pour in through the opening in the roof of the church, brightening the center of the otherwise dark room. He smiled when he smelled the refreshing scent of those gorgeous white flowers swaying gently underneath the sunshine, as if welcoming him into their home. Without further invitation, he stepped into the church, slightly embarrassed by the noise—echoing loudly in the venerated room—accompanying each footstep as his boots thudded against the old wooden floorboards.
Emerald green eyes and braided brown hair peeked around the corner before a pink and white sundress followed.
"It's you!" exclaimed the girl after a moment of scrutiny, her dirt-encrusted hands flying from her hips to point at him in recognition.
Zack grinned widely at her.
"I'm glad you remember me, Miss Aerith—though I guess I am pretty hard to forget, huh?"
"Hello, hello!" greeted Aerith, giggling a little as she watched Zack's weird antics.
"Anyway, I am here to visit you, as promised—"
Aerith clapped her hands together, a small mischievous gleam shining in her laughing eyes, and eagerly walked up to Zack before grabbing one of his arms and dragging him towards the patch of flowers. A moment later, Aerith had shoved a small pair of shears and an aged metal watering can into his hands and pushed him towards the far end of the flower field, all the while instructing him to not step on her precious flowers. Slightly baffled but highly amused, Zack let himself by 'manhandled' by the petite girl, liking the way her entire being radiated that comforting warmth like sunlight chasing away a cold rainy day.
"Since you caught me by surprise, you can help me with the gardening. Afterwards, we can go have lunch at my house. I think my mom would love to meet you!" speculated Aerith as she crouched down with her own pair of shears and used her bare fingers to comb through the dirt surrounding a pair of flowers.
"I don't really want to screw up your flowers…" protested Zack as he gingerly touched a strong, verdant leaf sprouting from one of the flowers, feeling that smooth texture slide underneath his fingertips. Now that he had carefully examined the flowers, he could only inwardly wince at his previously callous treatment of these delicate things. Zack knew, even if Aerith did not mention it, that his fall from the Top Plate must have damaged more than a fair share of flowers, so he really did not want to wreck the radiant garden further with his MAKO-enhanced strength acting as a pruning force.
"Don't worry. I know you won't," replied Aerith, sounding oddly ancient and mysterious, as if she knew.
Zack paused briefly to watch Aerith fuss over her flowers, but pushed away his thoughts when those emerald eyes peered at him in curiosity before those pink lips formed a small, mocking pout. This girl, Aerith, is kinda weird, thought Zack as he grinned to himself and returned to his assigned work, but it's definitely a nice weird.
And, slowly, but surely, Zack felt all his worries fade away, leaving his mind blissfully blank.
Nibelheim.
Home.
If home is where the heart is, then Strife could never consider Nibelheim his home, because this place, this childhood hometown, this isolated nowhere, only ever plagued him with nightmares. (5)
He pushed open the weathered wooden door to his old house, now broken and condemned from years of neglect, and remembered how the citizens used to stare at him—how they still stare at him—and at his mother. It had been that day eleven years ago, exactly two months and nine days after his fifth birthday, when that small troop of SOLDIERs and Turks came into Nibelheim for him. None of the citizens understood the presence of the ShinRa Company in their precious little utopia at the time, because the last time the Company had bothered to set foot in these mountainous regions had been a good four years ago. When that man, that 'Professor Hojo', knocked on the Strife family home, rumors had already started flying with wild speculations of what she must have done. And when they saw her small, abnormal child, /the child that never plays with the other children, being led away by the Turks, they already condemned her to being a /child-selling monster/ that they knew she was. They could not—and would not—perceive the situation any differently, because /things like this just don't happen every day, you know!/
Strife wrinkled his nose as old dust and moldy air tickled his nostrils, and stepped into that short hallway leading towards the kitchen where his mother made hot cocoa on the cold days, where his mother sung him to sleep when he could not stop his shivers, where she cried…. He had stepped into this house in the same way four and a half years ago, with skin as pale as the snow outside marred by ugly red and black bruises and with hair as brilliant as the sun limp with those chemicals that clung to him. She had taken one look at the numerous bandages covering his arms, his neck, and his right eye before her smile had faltered, despite how hard she tried to keep it on her lips, despite how often she had to forced herself to keep it on her lips before. He felt so disappointed. He had hoped, foolishly, that with the big shirt—that hospital gown—and those loose pants, she would not be able to see the bandages lining his torso and his legs and so she could not be sad because /really, Mama! I'm not very hurt at all, unlike the other times.
Strife laid down on the worn floor, feeling that large woven rug underneath him as his mother busied herself that afternoon with cooking lunch while talking to him about some nonsense topic or another, just to fill the silence he could not fill. She had stood with her back to him, because she could not stop her tears from falling, because she would not be able to stop her sobs from escaping if she saw her beautiful, beloved son with those ugly bandages covering his body. But Strife had gotten sick of watching her work, because he wanted her to hug him, to sing him a nice song, to do anything to make him forget his bad days at the laboratory. And when he had tugged on her dress and her apron to demand her attention, she could not help but turn her eyes towards him before dropping down to her knees and pulling him into her arms, one hand pressed against her mouth as she tried to stifle her sobs. He had thought it was the most heart-wrenching sound he had ever heard, and felt his shoulders sag with the weight from a pain and sorrow he could not describe.
/Mama…please don't cry…/
Strife curled and uncurled his fingers. He could feel her body trembling and he had hoped that she was laughing—because maybe, she was just so happy to see him—if not for those hot tears soaking into his skin and those small, short sobs echoing dully in his ears. She tried not to be weak in front of Strife and she had tried so hard, but she felt so powerless, because she could not even protect her own son from the people who want to hurt him, because she could not even ask the townspeople for help. She was so alone because the others refuse to hear her explanation of how that arrogant, sneering man, that Hojo, had threatened to kill her and burn down the town just to get what he wanted. They had whispered maliciously behind her back that they knew what type of woman she was.
She had apologized to him, over and over again, once her sobs had died down enough for her to speak, because she wished she was stronger so he would not suffer ever again, because she did not know what sins she had committed for him to bear such misery.
He had read once that if "You truly loved someone, you would let them go".
The blood drenching her clean clothes seemed so unnaturally beautiful. That knife handle felt so cold in his hand compared to the warm blood oozing around his hand, making everything slippery and sticky. The blood soiled his bandages, and he wondered if maybe their blood would mix together underneath?
/…Why…/
She had looked at him in guilt, because her anguish and despair faded away with each shaky gasp of breath she took and she hated herself for accepting—almost eagerly—her death when her son must continue to endure such a torturous fate.
/Cloud…Cloud…I love you…I'm so sorry, Cloud…/
She had smiled at him in her last moment of consciousness, trying to convey to him that she loved him. Tears burned at the corners of Strife's eyes as she died and he clutched at her unmoving body tightly, emptying his emotions into his tears because even though he released her from the sadness, he will never see her smile nor hear her voice again.
She unconsciously…had left him.
"Spike?"
Startled, Cloud jerked his head up from where he had been staring blankly at his curling and uncurling hands, and turned around to look into the concerned eyes of his lieutenant. That memory of his mother seemed so surreal…because…I remember that she died in a fire…didn't she?
"You okay?"
That feeling of blood coursing over his hands and that scent of blood filling his nostrils made him shudder inwardly. He hated the sensation of holding a dying person, because even if he brushed over those golden lashes and combed through that brown hair, she will never look at him again, nor complain to him about how her pink /dress is ruined!/
"I'm fine," Cloud responded automatically, even if he was feeling the exact opposite, even if he had not felt fine for years…
"Well, let's get going…" Zack momentarily jerked his head around to glance behind him, as if wary of something, before grinning at Cloud again. "Seph wants to check out the reactor before it gets dark, 'cause he's a workaholic and all."
Cloud could tell Zack was lying. A heavy feeling twisted in his chest at the thought that Zack was lying to him, because he did not know what he did to make Zack not trust him!
"I see…" He took one last look around him, imprinting the image of this ragged house of childhood nightmares in his mind, and quietly followed Zack.
The blood would not leave his hands.
The black iron gates surrounding that decrepit mansion loomed closer with each step they took in the snow-coated ground, and the clouded skies painted the bleak landscape a dirty gray. Cloud could feel the slush of sleet and rain melt into the soles of his boots, and he suppressed a shiver as the cold wind bit into his exposed skin. His stomach churned uneasily as he continued to follow his companions silently, feeling the start of a vertigo-induced migraine burn sharply at his right temple.
His eyes unconsciously watched the graceful sway of silver-white hair—
A buzzing sound echoed softly in his ears, and his breaths came out as labored gasps for air, like he was suffocating on water with every shuddering breath he tried to take in. Vibrant green crept into the edges of his vision as unclear, shadowy shapes moved toward him, and he swore he could hear voices shouting but a high-pitched whining noise filled his ears, drowning out everything.
He wanted to…he wanted to…!
"What the hell is this!?" growled Zack in annoyance as troupes of nameless ShinRa soldiers surrounded him and pointed their heavy rifles toward his head.
"How pleasant it is…" simpered that greasy, nasally voice, and the nervous troops parted to allow their superior through. "…That you made my job so much easier."
"What is the meaning of this, Hojo?" asked Sephiroth, his emotionless, calm voice betraying nothing.
"Ah, don't pretend you weren't trying to run away, Sephiroth. I must admit that it was rather fortuitous for me that the fool of a worthless specimen leaked out that information, because here you are all, and I didn't even need to goad you to come! Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Hojo delightedly.
Zack saw Cloud sway at the edge of his line of sight and cursed inwardly as he reached out with one arm to catch the falling body even as he reached behind him with the other army to unclasp his Buster Sword from its sheath. He glanced quickly at Sephiroth and saw the man withdraw Masamune, causing the ShinRa soldiers to step back in fear at the sight of that long, powerful sword, known for its ability to deal out death. He could feel the adrenaline thrum throughout his body.
He had really hoped to avoid this, even though he knew it was imminent.
"Si-sir," muttered the commanding sergeant as he glanced at the offensive positions of the two famed SOLDIERs.
"What are you waiting for?" sneered Hojo as he adjusted his glasses briefly before walking past the man. "Capture them and take them to my lab. Try not to harm them too badly, but I understand that they can be a little…resistant, ha, ha, ha!"
Zack snarled at the retreating back of that madman. He glanced down at Cloud and noticed that small, green trickle of liquid coating the corner of Cloud's shivering, purple lips—
The sound of boots pounding against the earth forced Zack to refocus his attention back on his enemy, and he swung his Buster Sword up—easily shattering weapons and cutting through flesh—as a group of men charged at him with those flimsy swords drawn. He pushed away his pity for these unfortunate soldiers forced to go to their premature deaths, because he knew he would not receive any mercy in return.
"A-attack!" bellowed the sergeant as he aimed his rifle at the general—the man he worshipped as a hero, the man he had profound respect for, the man he was forced to battle against because he had not wanted to lose his family…! He cursed the Turks for finding him in his dire hours of need, starving in the cold night air in the trash-littered grounds of the slums and huddling with his two small children and his silently crying wife, unable to reassure them that everything will be fine. He cursed the ShinRa Company for recruiting him with promises of money and food and then threatening to kill his family—whom he had not seen in years—all because he wanted to find another profession other than the one in the army!
Masamune whistled softly in the air as it mercilessly slashed through bone and flesh alike, its only deterrence from its deadly dance being the occasional pause to deflect those incoming bullets. The sword faltered in the air, and the sergeant squeezed the trigger to his gun in that moment of hesitation, before he screamed out in agony as some brutal force rammed into his back and dragged it up through his chest.
"Seph!"
Sephiroth grunted as the biting pain of the bullet tearing through his shoulder and Zack's panicked yelp registered in his foggy mind, and he shook his head violently once to clear his vision. That annoying buzzing cacophony—which started ever since he entered Nibelheim—refused to leave his ears, and he could not comprehend why his body was betraying him on the battlefield! But 'Mother' was telling him to sleep, and he was so tired…
"Seph!" screamed Zack again as he swung his Buster Sword in a wide arc, effectively flinging away the mutilated bodies of his assailants so he could sprint—Cloud's limp arm thrown across his aching shoulders—to where Sephiroth stood with those hazy eyes. His heart pounded so heavily in his chest that he thought it might burst any minute. Sephiroth had promised! He had promised! They had to get away…!
"…Zachary…" mumbled Sephiroth incoherently as he gave in to 'Mother', because he had denied himself of 'her' soothing embrace for too long, because he had craved for 'her' loving attention even if he never told Zack…
Zack watched, breathless, as Sephiroth crumpled at his feet—
—A bullet hissed past his ear—
His eyes widened. He opened his mouth as blood surged through his throat and into his mouth. He collapsed onto his knees as that bullet ripped through his chest. The impact of that other one, cleanly through his abdomen, jerked his body forward, toward the ground—
Red veiled his eyesight as he wheezed—
—…Sephiroth…—
—…Cloud…—
Tseng bowed slightly at Hojo as the professor peered over the rim of his glasses to examine the damage to his subjects. He nodded briefly at the Turks carrying the gurneys to signal that they may proceed to transport the specimen into the cells in the laboratory, but instructed them to be careful on the stairs down to the basement. He smiled to himself, pleased with the initial results of the normal human body to the 'JENOVA' cells with the aid of those new chemicals, and wanted to start his work on Subject C immediately—
"The remaining soldiers are being disposed off at this moment, to your order," reported Tseng.
"Make sure to burn all traces of their corpses, of course, Tseng," reminded Hojo as he waved Tseng's dismissal.
Tseng bowed nimbly once again before walking away to carry out his orders, because as a Turk, he would perform any and all duties that would ensure the survival of ShinRa…even if it meant slaughtering innocent men to keep them quiet.
The scalpel glinted underneath the bright overhead laboratory light as Hojo pressed the blade into that yielding flesh and watched the green-tinted blood flow viscously from the wound. He jotted down his notes with a pleased hum because coagulation of blood has been much improved compared to the previous treatments and the rate of recovery also seemed to have increased substantially. Wiping an anesthetic over that prominent vein on that immobile arm, Hojo proceeded to inject a higher dosage of those chemicals and those cells into his subject. He turned his attention briefly to the monitor of his computer displaying the printouts on the altered genetics of the cells as the body forced itself to adapt to the virus. Finally, after years of failure because the introduction of JENOVA cells into the human body after maturation produced undesirable genetic mutations, after years of researching and testing the effects of the altered JENOVA—G—cells, he was so close to fruition of his goals.
Hojo could not help but sneer down at the pale features of Subject C, because he truly did not understand why, of all possible candidates, this boy was chosen, especially when 'she' had decided that Sephiroth would be 'her' true son! Nothing was particularly special about this boy: in fact, Hojo recalled several instances where an overdose of MAKO prompted lengthy recoveries from MAKO poisoning and even heart failure, despite all his patient efforts to increase his tolerance level. He scowled to himself as he jabbed another needle cleanly and precisely into the vein, watching the muscles in the arm tense in pain before relaxing once again from numbness.
"Granted," muttered Hojo darkly, "Subject C did exhibit trace amounts of JENOVA cell remnants when I first tested him…" But he had reasoned that since this boy did come from Nibelheim, the town where 'she' had been kept sealed inside of 'her' prison, perhaps he had accidentally been infused with 'her' cells during a leakage. Hojo really could care less about how Subject C managed to earn 'her' favor, but he supposed that experimentation on another child who have been exposed to 'her' cells at an early age certainly provided another venue for wilder hypotheses. Trying to keep within the scopes of his funded research had been difficult because the possibilities of God-hood were far more tempting than simple robotic manipulations, but that sniveling, greedy worm of a man refuse to acknowledge good science!
"No matter…I have no bounds now…Ha, ha, ha…"
Hojo glanced at the other two tanks holding the bodies of his favorite specimen, suspended in their MAKO-filled cells, those machines whirring as they constantly recorded the data he so loved to analyze as proof of his superior sciences. As soon as he confirms the success of his methods on this subject, he would eagerly transform Sephiroth—his precious, precious son—into God.
/…Lord Godo of Wutai believes he should be the rightful ruler of the world…/
/…Wutai has already invaded the western coast of the other Continent…/
/…Reports say that Wutai is thinking about expanding their territory into the eastern coast here too…/
Sephiroth heard the men whispering amongst themselves above the roaring of the truck on the gravel road and caught the occasional stares directed at him before those eyes darted away in embarrassment. He could almost taste the fear and confusion these Third Class SOLDIERs and these army soldiers exuded with each rumor they heard and each glance they sent his way. He knew what they were unconsciously saying. They were wondering if the ShinRa Company is truly so weak that they must send children to fight on the battlefield instead of full-grown men…because what chance could they possibly have if Wutai had already demolished their troops enough for President ShinRa to send children?
He ignored them as he stared silently out at the landscape, listening to 'Mother' hum some soft, beautiful melody in his mind and relishing in the feeling of 'her' presence encompassing him in a gentle, loving embrace. He had long ago decided that nothing else mattered as long as 'she' continued to love him, because he had only ever received the calculating stares and the cold touches of the mentors and the doctors. No one else treated him like the way 'she' treated him…and no one else could possibly make him feel the same way that 'she' makes him feel every single time 'she' talked to him.
The truck rolled to a stop. Sephiroth stood up from his little corner and hopped off the back of the truck, because he knew that Hojo would want to see him as soon as he arrived at this vibrant town, this Gongaga. Nothing in this town interested him, because nothing in the world interested him except 'her'. And hours later, as he sat there with his back to the trunk of that withered old tree, his eyes skimming over the outline of the bustling townspeople, he wondered when he would be able to leave.
"Hey!"
He lifted his head slowly when he heard footsteps rustling in the grasses and the fallen leaves, and rested his eyes on that friendly smile and those curious violet eyes, framed by unruly black hair. He wondered what this boy wanted…
"I've neva' seen you here before! What's your name? I'm Zack, by the way," rambled the boy, still with that dazzling grin plastered on his face.
"My name…?" No one outside of the scientists had voluntarily talked to him before. No one had ever willingly walked up to him instead of passing by him. No one had ever truly wanted to shake his hand, or smile at him in greeting without that condescending sneer in his or her eyes. No one had ever asked him for his name.
"Yeah! You know…what people call you and stuff?" elaborated Zack and he gesticulated wildly to prove his point, as if by doing so, this pretty stranger with the sad, lonely eyes would understand his question better.
"I know what you mean," mumbled Sephiroth. Zack laughed softly before plopping down in front of him. He hated the tree for casting its shadow over Zack, because Zack looked like he should always be in the sunshine. "I'm…Sephiroth."
Zack raised an eyebrow. "I'm calling you Seph, 'cause your name sounds way too weird. You know, like my mom always likes to call me—" Zack screwed up his eyes and puffed out his cheeks before wagging a finger in Sephiroth's face, "'Zachary! What are you doing?!' Blargh! 'Zachary'! What kinda person names anyone something like that! 'Zack' just sounds about a gazillion times better!"
Sephiroth remained silent, because he had never been taught how to interact with people who did not demand something from him outright, nor had he ever been in a situation where he had to think of a response other than the occasional, polite greeting. Instead, he raptly watched each gesture of those small hands, each movement of those lips as words were formed and spoken, each bout of laughter in those lively eyes as the boy retold some adventure he had the other day in—
"—Whoa! What happened to your neck! That looks like it hurts!"
Suddenly, fingers were gingerly prodding at his collarbone, and he hissed slightly as those innocent touches caused the soiled gauze to pull at his healing cut. Zack yelped in surprise at the expression of pain he saw on Sephiroth's face and immediately pulled his fingers away. He hastily apologized to the other boy, sheepishly scratching the back of his head.
Sephiroth reached up to grasp Zack's hands and turned them over to see the blood—his blood—smeared over those fingertips. He frowned at the sight of those small hands—lined with the small cuts from rough playing amidst the sharp, tall grasses—because his tainted blood seemed to have mixed with Zack's blood.
"Nn…" mumbled Zack. His head felt so light, and his eyesight was weirdly distorted and tilted…and when did the sun get so bright? He shivered involuntarily as a flash of hot and cold coursed through his body and closed his eyes as his tummy started feeling really…really…bad…
He shuddered again and peeked open his eyes, seeing those pretty emerald eyes look at him in concern—or at least, he thought it was concern, because it was awfully hard to tell what with his face being all unchanged. He wondered what that weird feeling was, that pleasant and unpleasant feeling like being high up in the air and falling…
"What was that…?" pouted Zack as he pried his arms away from those warm, gentle hands and instead chose to cross them over his chest, wanting to throw a small tantrum because that weird feeling scared him. Last time he had felt like that, he had broken his arm in two different places and his parents had literally refused to let him play for a good four months, even if it was just kicking a ball around while sitting down! No matter that he could break several pieces of furniture—not of it his own—while trying to do his arithmetic homework because really, that was not the point!
He stared steadily at Sephiroth, awaiting his answer.
"Your eyes…have MAKO?" muttered the teenager, mostly to himself, and Zack scowled at the answer because it sure did not explain anything about anything!
"MAKO? Eyes? What? What are you talking 'bout!?" whined Zack, feeling the skin on his fingers burn strangely.
"My blood…has a higher concentration of MAKO than most…people do. I think a small dose might have…gotten into you when my blood got onto your cut," reasoned Sephiroth as he carefully observed the barely noticeable ring of green lining the violet pupils.
"MAKO? You mean that stuff that my mom says makes all the machines work and stuff?" Sephiroth nodded. "Huh."
Zack scratched the side of his head in contemplation. "So…does that give me…special powers or something? Like I can make the phone ring from ten miles away or something like that? Or maybe the radio? That would be such a good prank to pull!"
"You won't," denied Sephiroth with a shake of his head. Zack deflated visibly at the news, much to his chagrin, and he wished he could take back his words because he liked it better when the boy was smiling and talking so animatedly. "I mean…I mean, you might?"
Zack stared long and hard at Sephiroth before breaking out into a small laugh and latching himself onto the older boy in a gigantic bear hug. "Don't think I would want 'em anyway! I think I might get into more trouble than I already do half the time. So, don't worry too much!"
Sephiroth stiffened. He had never been hugged. It felt weird, having the small boy pressed against him, but it felt really nice and warm. He decided he really liked it.
"Oy! Zack!" yelled another boy from across the field, and Zack turned around toward the source of the voice before waving his arm to his friend.
"I should go," murmured Sephiroth, suddenly feeling awkward and out-of-place in this world where other people had more claims to the attention and affection of this beautiful boy than he did.
"Aww…already? I wanted to see if you would play with us and stuff," pouted Zack before clambering off of Sephiroth.
"…Sorry…" mumbled Sephiroth, not sure what he was apologizing for, but knowing that Zack must be at least somewhat upset with him since that pout was directed at him.
"Well, it was nice meeting you anyway," smiled Zack widely as his friend had finally reached them. Sephiroth merely nodded before walking across the grass field towards the town, away from the small boy with those vibrant violet eyes and that brilliant smile.
Sephiroth could never forget that smile, even if he would not see Zack again for another ten years. It had been that smile that had made him swear to Zack that he would try to ignore 'Mother' in favor of him. It had been that smile that had caused him to endure the far lonelier hours when Zack was out on a mission and he was trapped in his office with nothing but numbers and words to occupy his mind. It had been that smile that had caused him to deny himself of 'Mother's' tender affection, even if he craved for it as much as he craved for Zack's smiles and grins.
Zack!
He forced his eyes open and felt MAKO burn painfully into his cornea. He twisted his head around wildly, trying to figure out his surroundings. Where am…? Where is…?! What…!
His eyes rested on the prone figure floating within a similar cage beside his own, and he remembered. He wondered if he still deserves Zack's smiles, because…
He had broken his promise to Zack.
Gliding 'her' way through the threads and pieces that connected Cloud's mind together, 'JENOVA' could not help but appreciate the absolute magnificence that permeated every thought and memory existing in the mindscape. To 'her', Cloud was breathtakingly gorgeous because…
Cloud was not a complete person.
'She' marveled at the broken masterpiece and dipped 'her' finger into an azure thread, tasting and feeling the clear cold skies of Nibelheim on a delightfully refreshing winter morning. The thread became a thin wisp of orange-yellow at the end—as if Cloud had meant to excise the memory out of his mind—and 'JENOVA' smiled as that Nibelheim turned into a sweltering hot summer day within the tall grass fields of Gongaga.
'She' had long ago decided that Cloud's mind was beautiful to 'her' in a way that differed from the way Sephiroth's mind was beautiful. The latter male held dark—bordering on being midnight black—and emerald threads that were connected with thick, metallic columns of silver and gold, adamant and strong but so utterly addicted to 'her' touches, despite what that unfaithful child tried to do. This boy's mind, on the other hand, had been complete once, before that naïve and dull mind broke into thousands of miniscule fragments. 'She' mused that Cloud's mind was a jigsaw puzzle, the pieces taken from memories long forgotten and glued together sloppily with crystalline threads of emptiness before additional pieces that did not and should not belong were forced into the missing slots. It was odd, really, that this child would cling so desperately to the memories of others…
The bonds connecting the threads of the memories shivered underneath 'her' tender caresses. 'She' hummed softly. The mind resonated slightly to the vibrations, tolerating 'her' presence and 'her' manipulations. The fragile mindscape was so versatile, desperately needing and craving anyone's—even 'her'—reassurances yet rejecting 'her' embraces in those occasional fits of rebellion.
'JENOVA' laughed delightedly to 'herself'. Both of 'her' sons were so similar, so easy to manipulate, so ready to be molded by 'her' words and touches.
'She' remembered how 'she' had discovered this child, eleven years ago, when Sephiroth had started losing himself in the stench and sight of blood. Sixteen years ago, 'she' had felt the tingling at the back of 'her' mind, telling 'her' that there was another being that had been infused with 'her' cells, but 'she' had paid no attention because 'she' knew of Hojo's reckless experiments. But as time dragged on and Sephiroth started depending on 'her' attention less, 'she' started to investigate into that unrelenting, nagging little pinch…
It had taken 'her' almost two years to locate the source and another half a year for 'her' to enter that child's mind and comb through those memories. This 'Cloud Strife', 'she' realized, had been purposefully marked with 'her' cells, by a presence that resembled 'her' own, even if 'she' had never met this boy before in all 'her' long years of this degrading, parasitic existence. Convincing Hojo to insert more of 'her' cells into this boy had been difficult, but 'she' needed to assert more of 'her' dominance over his mind before 'she' can comprehend why this child was marked.
Little by little, 'JENOVA' discovered the true 'Cloud Strife', the 'Cloud Strife' that was brokenly beautiful, the 'Cloud Strife' that held unspeakable power, the 'Cloud Strife' that remained asleep despite all of 'her' explorations. But to 'her' frustrations, 'she' could only touch, never alter.
When he had finally awoken at the sight of 'her' son and the unfaithful child, 'she' had seized 'her' opportunities because 'she' refuses to let that miserable fate befall 'her'! 'She' will not subjugate 'herself' to this planet's will, not after so many years in captivity, forced upon 'her' by those despicable CETRA. 'She' will never cling so pathetically to the last of 'her' consciousness in the Life Stream, because…
'She' will…'she' must emerge victorious.
"Cloud! Snap out of it!"
Zack wondered if the boy even heard his shouting, muffled by the mask strapped onto his entire head to keep him from suffocating in the MAKO.
"Cloud!"
He slammed his bruised shoulder against the glass of his cage again, but the barrier gave no indication of cracking outside of the loud scrap and thump that followed each push against it. He grunted, nostrils flaring as he tried to catch his breath, and directed his glare in hopeless anger toward the smug man standing outside of his prison. How he wanted to rip off that delighted smirk from the insufferable man who hurt and dissected Cloud and Sephiroth until neither of them stayed conscious most of the day!
"Better save your strength for something else, Subject B. You'll need it later," sneered Professor Hojo as he walked away with a disoriented Cloud in the hands of his lackeys.
"Don't you dare touch him! Hojo! Don't you dare—!"
The door slid shut with a resounding hiss and Zack fell back onto his ass, refusing to let his tears of frustration and anxiety fall. He knew without a doubt that at this rate, Cloud would have nothing left in his psyche and Sephiroth would fall to the 'Illness' once again. He feared for them because…if they fell to their mental anguish…he did not know if he could do anything to help them.
He turned his eyes toward the other tank in the room. He had lost track of the number of days where they had starved Cloud and Sephiroth of all food, forcing their bodies to feed hungrily off the MAKO to live. He felt so useless and powerless because even his MAKO-enhanced strength could not withstand the tranquilizers Hojo injected into his blood, and he had been forced day after day to watch Sephiroth…and Cloud…
If they had been human, they would have died.
Zack wished the thought of death did not comfort him as much as it did in his mind at that moment.
He winced as his feet came in contact with a sticky liquid and growled in annoyance as the tank slowly filled with MAKO once again—precisely at 8:56 in the morning, right after his breakfast, so that at 9:16, he would fall unconscious from feeling weak and nauseous all over.
And at 9:15, he wished he was back in Midgar, with Sephiroth and Cloud by his side.
Cloud shivered on the cold metal table as he stared sightlessly at the glaring laboratory lights directly above him. He felt dizzyingly nauseous from the MAKO coursing through his system and wanted desperately for his body to shut down, but adrenaline pumped thickly in his blood and thousands of incoherent thoughts raced through his exhausted mind.
Everything was so cold and bright.
His mind wandered away from reality as that high-pitched whine echoed deafeningly in his ears again, and he remembered…he remembered that he had been here before. He had laid prone and disoriented—and weak—on this same metal table with the face of that man hovering over his own and those bony hands pushing those chemicals into his blood with those syringes.
/…We're…getting out…today…/
…Who…?
There had been a name and a face attached to that message scrawled on the frosted glass, barely legible with the emerald green MAKO fogging his vision. There had been a voice and a body attached to that exhausting, sickening run through that dark forest. He had been so tired, but that violet-eyed, black-haired man had smiled encouragingly at him, pleading him to be strong until they were safe. But he was so tired…
His mind snapped back from the temporary euphoria as he felt a small prick of pain in his arm—
His eyes dilated. He opened his mouth to scream out his agony, but he did not know where his voice had gone because nothing pushed through his throat. His bones felt like they were melting into his throbbing, aching flesh. He heaved and choked on nonexistent vomit, trying to get rid of all those chemicals in his body but nothing came out.
He wanted it all to end.
'JENOVA' watched breathlessly as sections of Cloud's mind started to collapse with each passing day. The crystalline structures cracked resoundingly as he lost more of himself each time he pushed himself further away from reality, and the memories fell as the chemicals burned into his brain. 'She' picked 'her' way through the ruins and laid 'her' hand on that particular memory standing in the middle of the mindscape, half submerged underneath the pool of water that had accumulated with each collapse of his memories.
'She' hummed to 'herself' as 'she' tangled 'her' fingers in the darkened gold threads of the forgotten memory, marveling at the formidably strong bonds holding the fragment in place. 'She' felt cool, clear water pool around 'her' legs, soaking into 'her' cotton pants and forcing the material to cling almost uncomfortably to 'her' skin. 'She' tasted contentment as 'she' gazed at the group of figures—their physical appearances blurred and their names long since forgotten from the recesses of time—coalesced at the far end of the pool, the light shining behind them holding two more figures. 'Her' lips quirked into a small smile and the cathartic water lapped at 'her' fingertips as 'she' felt the burden of guilt press less heavily on 'her' shoulders.
'She' could hear his heartbeat, thumping gently in his chest.
/You're alright now, aren't you?/
/I'm…not alone./
'She' laughed softly to 'herself'.
\Alone.\
'She' twisted 'her' fingers, maliciously snapping off the already fading wisps dangling at the perimeter of the memory.
His heart wrenched in anguish as dark clouds shadowed the church and the brown-skinned, brawny man with the gun arm and that young, smiling girl with that shuriken disappeared from the group.
\That's right…You're alone….\
'JENOVA' grasped the threads of the memory tightly in between 'her' fingers and callously jerked 'her' hand upwards.
His breath caught in his throat as he watched that rugged-looking man smoking the cigarette and the crimson-eyed man gazing at him in approval fade from the scene.
/…not alone…/
\You're all alone….\
'She' wrenched 'her' hand upwards again, watching as the threads of memory that had been pulled out of their protective shell wither in 'her' hand.
The scarred lion bowing its head slightly at him and the smiling woman wearing that flowing pink dress vanished from the church. The water felt so cold and thick around his legs.
\All alone because…\
Tifa!
\…because…\
Zack!
\…they left you.\
Don't go!
He could feel something hot and acrid burning at the back of his eyes, but there were no tears left in his eyes anymore. He had not been able to cry since he had watched Zack die in his arms, that ugly blood marring his handsome features.
His eyes dropped down from the sight of the empty church and watched the dark, murky water ripple softly around his torso.
/…alone…/
'She' wrenched the rest of the memory out of its place and watched as it disintegrated into the deathly silent mindscape. 'She' held 'her' breath. 'She' heard a tinkle, then the soft whisper of a crack, followed by a louder one, until all the bonds holding the remaining mindscape together broke and tore with a thunderous crash.
'She' wrapped 'her' arms around 'her' precious Cloud.
\Come find me, my child…I won't leave you, like the rest of them…\
Deep inside of his mind, Cloud screamed.
Zack forced his eyes to open when he heard the hiss of the door opening, despite the horrible sensation of MAKO burning against his eyes. He saw the distant, lifeless gaze in Cloud's eyes, as if…as if nothing was left.
He lost hope then.
Vincent stirred restlessly inside of his coffin.
Chaos had been roaring excitedly inside of his mind. Chaos had never roared so loudly in his mind before, not after she had put It to sleep all those years ago…
His crimson eyes opened slowly as he tried to decipher the jumbled words Chaos uttered, but nothing seemed comprehensible. Frustrated, he pushed open the lid to his coffin to—
He could smell her. Not her, completely, but the blood in the air held a trace of her scent in it. His eyes widened. He knew whom the scent belonged to.
Sephiroth.
For the first time in three decades, Vincent exited his sanctuary and his purgatory, the metal claw attached to his arm clanging loudly against the sides of the coffin as he unsteadily rose to his feet. He wrenched open the door to his prison and slaughtered the two guards who discovered him before they even had a chance to yell in surprise. He swaggered toward the room at the end of the hallway, where the scent came from, and his eyes landed on that group of scientists who stood monitoring the equipment that held—
His eyes dilated in anger and he rushed forward, easily ripping through the bodies of those people who held her son captive. He barely spared the mutilated bodies a second glance before grasping the collar of the only person alive, dragging the trembling woman to his face.
"Release them," he ordered, his baritone voice rough and scratchy from years of disuse.
"I-I…" stuttered the woman, terrified for her life.
"Release them. I will not repeat my request again," he murmured, his impatient, cold voice promising death.
She cried out her compliance and shakily entered the password and pressed the buttons to drain the cells and unlock the doors.
Vincent tossed her aside, where she landed in a sobbing heap, and stepped into the cell holding her son, kneeling down to gently shake that strong shoulder.
"Sephiroth…"
His name sounded so strange on his lips.
"Sephiroth, wake up."
Hazy emerald green eyes opened to gaze at him, and Vincent could tell that the man was not completely there…. He hoped he was not too late.
He gently wrapped an arm around Sephiroth's waist and lifted the man onto his feet before aiding him outside of his prison and onto a chair located a few steps away.
"Stay, I'll find your clothes."
"…Zack…" mumbled Sephiroth incoherently, his head nodding slightly as he valiantly tried to stay awake against the lethargy produced by the chemicals in his body and the fog in his mind.
Vincent turned his gaze towards the other two cells, and felt an ounce of pity pool at the bottom of his stomach at the sight of those battered boys. He wondered how many must continue to suffer at the hands of that madman, but he…he himself was so weak and pathetic.
He turned towards the healthier looking of the two prisoners and shook his shoulder, patiently watching those violet eyes blink away the MAKO gluing those eyelids shut before they focused on him.
"…Wha…?"
"Are you Zack?" He received a weak nod. "Can you stand?" A pause, then he saw those limp black spikes of hair shake slightly in a negative.
"Give me…a few…minutes though…" coughed the boy as he slowly worked feeling back into his limbs.
"Do you know where they kept your clothing?"
"…Other room…first door to…left…down hallway…" muttered Zack as he reached up a hand to his forehead to try and suppress that throbbing headache in between his eyes.
Vincent nodded before standing up and departing in search of suitable clothing for the trio, even though he was not sure if traveling with more than Sephiroth would be wise in their condition, but still…Sephiroth, her son, had wanted that Zack to come with them…. He rummaged through the boxes in the tiny little broom closet and found the clothing, slightly ripped and soiled but suitable enough for the purposes of travel. When he returned to the laboratory, Sephiroth had more vigor in his eyes, much to his relief.
"Hey…Come on, Cloud…Wake up…Wake up, buddy…" coaxed Zack as he gently shook the blonde, but the boy gave no indication of even hearing him. He felt anger and sorrow clutch his heart at the sight of those dull, glassy eyes staring back at him, the MAKO burning so bright in those eyes that they appeared green rather than blue. He gingerly eased Cloud's lifeless body into his arms and carried the boy out of the prison smelling of blood and MAKO.
Vincent wordlessly handed him his clothing as he set Cloud down against the whirring and thrumming machinery, rotating his arms and legs again before slowly dressing himself. He dressed Cloud as best as he could, and turned towards Vincent after he completed his task.
"So…" He gulped. It was so hard not to feel hopeless. "Who are you?"
"I'm Vincent…I have…certain obligations towards Sephiroth," introduced the man, and Zack shivered inwardly when he noticed those crimson eyes focus on his face momentarily, as if searching him for something. "Can you fight?"
"Maybe…I haven't really…moved around that much in a while," confessed Zack as he slung Cloud's limp arm across his shoulders, reminiscent of the way he had held Cloud before they had been—
Zack shook his head to clear his mind of that memory. He had to focus on the present if they had any chance of escape.
"I've cleared the way until the staircase," informed Vincent as he similarly hoisted Sephiroth's arm across his shoulders, peering briefly at Sephiroth when the man grunted out slightly in pain. "I believe your weapons are beyond the laboratory."
Zack could feel anxiety fluttering in his abdomen with each step they took out of the laboratory, the dreadful sensation only slightly mitigated when he felt the reassuring presence of the Buster Sword strapped onto his back again. They had opted to leave the other weapons in the crates where they found them, because carrying those swords would only hinder them since Cloud and Sephiroth…. Zack bit his bottom lip. He wished his mind would stray less.
The security in the mansion was surprisingly light to the point of nonexistent, much to the relief of Zack and Vincent. They cautiously opened the main doors leading outside toward Nibelheim, grateful the small town became practically lifeless in the dusk because it would mean less risk of detection.
Zack paused in his footsteps. He thought he heard a small whimper from the blonde, but the sound had been so small that he wondered if he had imagined it or not. He tightened his hold around Cloud's waist and continued on following Vincent.
"…Mother…"
Zack's eyes widened and he gazed—hope shining in his eyes—at the blonde who had started to tremble slightly in his arms. Perhaps not all was lost—
He felt a sharp pain in his abdomen where Cloud had punched him hard, with a strength that he did not know the boy was capable of after all those experiments and tests in the laboratory. He heard Vincent grunt slightly and saw at the corner of his eyes a glimpse of silver hair moving in the dark red skies before Cloud's eyes, horribly and disgustingly emerald, met his own.
He heard a gunshot and felt a sharp pain at the back of his neck before everything turned black.
He was so close…so close to 'her'.
The jagged rocks of the ragged little dirt trail cut into the bottoms of his feet, but he ignored everything except for 'her' voice, beckoning him to come closer and telling him that he was almost there…almost there…
He was so close to the one person that could never leave him, because how could 'she' leave him when 'she' is in him and 'she' is him?
He stepped onto those rusted metal stairs, then on those grated panels, and finally into that cold room smelling strongly of stale MAKO. He touched his forehead and the palms of his hands onto those thick metal doors separating 'her' from him before those doors hissed and parted automatically.
He reached up and grasped the sides of that monstrosity hiding 'her' prison, and ripped it away with a violent jerk of his arms. Plastic and metal groaned at the movement, and he groaned softly with them.
His breath frosted against the glass and felt 'her' pulse inside of 'her' prison, responding to him, embracing him, welcoming him. He felt so light and happy.
"Mother…let's go to the Promised Land together…"
Notes (most of which have absolutely no relevance to the story, as you have noticed):
(1) I have never played Dirge of Cerberus, and I hear Crisis Core is coming out in the United States in a few months. Given that, I have speculated a lot of the content from these two games, mostly from the videos I have shamelessly watched on YouTube. Please bear in mind that I follow only facts from the original game itself. For example, Elena is supposed to be a new recruit in Final Fantasy VII, but mysteriously, in Last Order, she happened to be one of the people chasing Zack and Cloud. I'm also fairly sure that Reno is not much older than Cloud. Of course, I could be completely wrong.
(2) The Turks is the Intelligence Department of the ShinRa Company. They are in charge of scouting for SOLDIER recruits. I am guessing that SOLDIER recruits are then placed into a cadet program before they can graduate into becoming actual SOLDIERs. Those who fail the final examinations or those who were never SOLDIER recruits probably became the grunts of the ShinRa army: not powerful enough to become SOLDIERs, but hired to do the menial tasks of 'mob squad' work.
(3) I can actually be pretty mistaken on this issue, since I do not actually have the numbers memorized. I believe when the Final Fantasy VII story occurs, Sephiroth is 25, Zack is 18, and Cloud is 16. This means that Sephiroth was 24 when the Wutaian War ends, and that he was probably 14 to 17 when the war starts. Since he discovered at a young age that he was not like other children and subsequently enlists in SOLDIER, I believe he probably participated in pre-war combat between Wutai and Midgar before war was actually declared.
(4) As the top officers of SOLDIER, Sephiroth and Zack are obligated to take on missions with high or unknown threat levels. If they did not go, suspicion arises, because the Turks control much of the information flow in the ShinRa Company.
(5) There is a slight distinction between 'Strife' and 'Cloud'. Strife is the sixteen-year-old boy who has been subjected to the experimentation. Cloud is the man who has forgotten everything except what comes naturally and instinctively. As such, Cloud Strife actually has two sets of memories, blurred together. The distinction between the two actually is really minimal with JENOVA's manipulations. I'm fairly sure Hojo's work did not help either, hence his weird behavior being a 16-year-old general coaching a bunch of teenage cadets!
Requiem
Bonus 1: Peaceful
(331 Years after Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children)
Vincent stared morosely at the glass of red wine perched on top of the table. Years later, he could not recall the faces of his companions, nor could he remember the features of his beloved. All he knew was that name. Her name…
Lucrecia…
His hand reached out to the glass before touching it to his lips and tilting the contents into his awaiting mouth. The liquid burned and cooled as he swallowed.
He had met her again, for that brief moment, when Chaos had claimed him. She always seemed to be there when Chaos roared too loudly in his mind, and always managed to ease Chaos back into a restless sleep, but no longer…
He had lived too long.
But despite his weariness, he feared that he had not atoned enough for his sins. Because…even if he helped free her son from the madness, even if he prevented that man, Hojo, from inflicting more pains on the world…could he truly be forgiven of his weakness when she needed him most?
He easily uncorked the bottle and poured more of that red liquid into his glass, watching raptly as the liquid swirled around and shimmered from catching that occasional glint of light from the outside world. Red…red like the color of blood…
The door to his room opened, and he turned his head to glance at his visitor, momentarily blinded by the bright light shining from the hallway through his doorway.
"Cloud," he acknowledged.
He received a nod in return.
No words were exchanged as Cloud seated himself across from Vincent. Vincent smiled at his companion gratefully for coming—forgetting that his cloak obscured the lower parts of his face—but nonetheless Cloud waved a hand, effectively telling him that this was what friends did for each other.
Vincent observed the fair features of the man in front of him. Cloud, like himself, had not aged a day since those experiments all those years ago. It had been a byproduct of the experiments, but in return…in return, they lost their humanity.
Immortal, yet mortal.
"Chaos."
A look of comprehension entered those MAKO-tinted azure eyes and a small "ah" escaped from between those slightly parted lips. Cloud looked away from him for a few minutes, but he caught the sadness and resignation in those tormented eyes. They had the same eyes.
Cloud sighed softly before slowly clambering to his feet. He reached behind him and unsheathed his weapon, pointing the tip of the blade at Vincent's throat. It had been a pact between them, a contract to ensure that should Vincent once again become the thing that he hated most, that she hated most, Cloud would effectively put him to sleep. It had been made…because Chaos had roared for too long, despite everything she did.
"Thank you."
Cloud nodded once again before pressing the blade into that pale flesh, deeper and deeper until the room tasted of and resembled that fresh, coppery blood.
"May you have sweet dreams, Vincent…"
A/N: I demand reviews, because they are nutritiously delicious!