This is what I've wanted to do all along. This is what I wanted to begin with. The story of the three friends: Sephiroth (Crescent), Genesis Rhapsodos and Angeal Hewley. Whoever may want to laugh or cry or get hurt or comfort each other together with us, welcome on board.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of FF7. Then again, generally speaking 'being' is better than 'owning', methinks. Still, Iarba – the one called 'Tonberry' by Genesis – is MY creation and nobody else but my friend Glaurung is entitled to use her apart from me.

NEVERENDING SONG

Part I – DIVER. 6th song

"All this time I can't believe I couldn't see
kept in the dark but you were there in front of me"

Evanescence – "Bring me to life"

They kept bringing more and more books. He kept ‚swallowing' them one by one. Still silently.

New files and programs were poured in the computer almost each day and he went through the entire history of Gaia, the ancient civilisation, the rise and then the descent and extinction of an old race that supposedly had inhabited the land before the people did and then the centuries of human development and wars and times of peace and wars again...

Strategy and tactics and battle accounts and peace negotiations and diplomatic debates and nations forming and lines traced on the land...

What a stupid thing, he thought. To draw a symbolic trace on the land and say „this is my part. That is yours. You are not allowed here on my land."

How could one say such an incredible stupidity?? How could land belong to somebody when they were all born on it and none of them brought into the world the tiniest grain of it? When land was the huge thing that he had just learned it to be, a ball so great that one couldn't even perceive its roundness, a place that could contain billions of people and still have large areas uninhabited by anyone, how could people claim to own it?? The boy just couldn't understand.

And the wars. Why??

He had found out that the universe was an endless place with stars and planets, but they had never mentioned other civilizations inhabiting them. Maybe there were and they just omitted this thing considering it of no importance – or the omission was intentional. And maybe they were alone or didn't know of anyone else. Whichever was the case, life in itself, in a universe full of huge balls of fire and dust, silently revolving in the freezing void, seemed such a miracle!

Each and every bit of life was a miracle. The grass he could see on the screen – and feel too in his dreams –was a miracle, stepped on and unnoticed by the people. The birds, the trees, the animals.

The animals. His fellows.

Dozens, hundreds, thousands of mice, rabbits, dogs and cats, monkeys, various birds, frogs and anything else, a featureless mass, all the same. Killed in the labs on a daily basis, chopped, gutted, electrocuted, disected while still alive, stared at through the microscopes, dissolved, liquified, burnt and powdered. His fellow animals.

One rabbit. Just a test material. Ten rabbits. All the same.

No. It wasn't like this. No. He knew. He had known every rabbit, every mouse, every frog and monkey that had ever passed through the labs. They weren't the same. They could look the same maybe, but even so, he would never take one for another. He knew them, he talked to them, they answered to him. Each one was unique. Each one was a person. How could they treat them like a faceless herd??

Alright, so they were blind and stupid and never cared to learn the animals' ways of communication, so they had no idea how far they were from the truth.

But what about themselves?...

The wars… The child could not understand and this frightened him. Most probably he didn't have all the information to make something of this. There had to be a reason. There had to be a sense. And yet he could not see it.

People were unique as well. There weren't two alike. Each and every people who died was a definite loss. There will never be another one alike. They were lost for good. They seemed to be the creation's higher point, they had the power over themselves and the planet, they could communicate, they could make themselves understood. They could change the world together, to make it a better place for everyone. And instead they had chosen to kill each other in wars.

This kind of waste, this sense of destruction, of themselves and everything around them, was beyond his understanding.

Everything in fact, when it came to people's reasons for their actions, seemed incomprehensible to the child. The things for which humans would go as far as to kill each other sounded so incredibly twisted and unworthy to him that he simply thought that either he was just not capable of understanding the human ways, or they were merely a whole race of murderous perverts.

What would they want from him, teaching him all the time about those endless webs of deceit and mazes of diplomatic tricks and more wars and more killings?

What were they going to make him?

A General of their armies, or what??...

A/N: Ahem! I can promise you the dialogue will start to show up from now on...