Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy.
(-fidgets-)
I'm supah-late! Again! Sorry! This time I'm gonna blame it on Fairy Tail (manga), Kekkaishi (another manga), snow fortresses (orly?), school and (-cough-) a mega-ultimate-super-scary-boss writer's block. (If I'm late again, you have to yell at me, bother me and threaten me. It's for my best.)
Exit
"…Hey, you there, woman?" asked Cid over the phone.
…
Err.
"I said you ain't got leukemia, dammit!"
…
Error.
No. No?
Shock?
"I hafta spell it out for you? You ain't gonna die, dammit! So $%#&$*& say something!"
...A-
Paige stared ahead of her. She could only imagine how her face looked right now. Probably extraordinary in some way or another, because John Smoth took flight and landed on top of the nearest shelf. And in the corner of an eye, she could see Sephiroth getting to his feet slowly.
Anger...?
…Anger.
Sephiroth watched Paige with mild wonder. She was talking to her doctor, there was no doubt about it. That said, there was no telling what he had said. Paige was clutching the phone so tightly he could hear her press down its buttons. Her jaw was set and her frown was deep, and her eyes were hard as stone. She was starting to pull her mouth into a lopsided, unfriendly smile.
"You..." she muttered. "You..." Her voice was almost an octave lower than usual. Sephiroth arched a brow, suspicious. "I have no words..." she continued in an undertone. She was grinning rather unnervingly.
Not that he minded. Although it would have suited him better if he knew the cause.
Paige's mind was spinning and swirling, her thoughts screaming, her guts rolling about as she tried to process Cid's message. Her leukemia had turned into some sort of a not-so-deadly-at-all joke. She would have laughed if she herself hadn't been the half-baked punch line. Oh, how many things she wanted to say to Cid! But it seemed impossible like this, via the phone, without his face in front of her. She needed to vent! Vent! There was really just one thing she could do.
Pay the man a visit.
"Hold on to that thought," she muttered, her voice alien even to herself, sounding ghostly and cruel and I-want-revenge-ish. Then she hung up.
Keeping her thoughts fixed on what she wanted to say to the man, she loomed to her feet and went out of the room, stepped into her shoes and stormed outside, ignoring John Smoth as he squawked 'What the fawk's goin' on?' She walked on, fast, not decreasing her speed. All the while she muttered and chanted, frowned and scowled occasionally at her own marching feet. It was late, already dark outside, and the sky was weighed down by heavy, bulky, yet barely visible clouds. With a strange mix of anger, relief and embarrassment she thought of her 'leukemia', never once letting her thoughts stray to something else. When she finally got to doctor Cid Highwind's office, she didn't even knock. With no less force than a tanks might drive down a wall, she slammed open the door and stomped inside. From there she kept walking and opened door by door, until she found Cid. He was sitting in his chair with a cigar between his teeth, frowning at her almost as strongly as she was glowering at him.
It took some time for him to get up, and when he finally did, he didn't even greet her.
"'The heck're you doing, waltzing in like you live here?! Who d' you think y'are, dammit?" he demanded. Paige showed him a fist and glared even more furiously at him, if that was possible.
"You will listen to what I have to say, or I will kill you with this fist. That is who I am," she replied.
Cid Highwind didn't like the sound of that. It didn't scare him, of course, but he didn't like it any better for that. Perhaps he thought she should be super-happy for the news of her leukemia being fake. Maybe she should.
"You angry?" he asked, his cigar moving as he spoke.
"I'm not angry! Gah, just listen! Listen!" Judging by his face, he wasn't the least bit amused, or convinced by her words, for that matter. His eyes were saying 'Women, dammit,' and his mouth pretty much spelled 'Makes my cigar taste bad.'
"All right..." she said, taking a deep breath to calm down. "Do you have any idea how much pain you've made me go through? Ever since the day you said I had leukemia, I've spent my time counting down to my own death! I had to tell my family I was going to die, and there really isn't anything worse you can do to your family than that! I've been given gifts that I feel I have to return! My dad spent who-knows-how-much on exotic food because I would never be able to go to any countries before my death! At school a certain somebody who I'd usually stay very far away from made me cry like a baby! It was humiliating! That guy still thinks I'm gonna die! As for school, I haven't put in enough effort in any of the tests! In other words you've made my grades drop! It's lucky that I'm even going to school at all right now – what if I had quit altogether?!" she said breathlessly, her face red and angry. "And now I have to face everybody I know and tell them I'm gonna live! They're gonna think I pulled this trick on purpose! This half year will turn into a huge joke that everybody except me will laugh at until the day I really do die!"
Cid was completely unimpressed, and bored, by the look on his face.
And perhaps a bit annoyed. Paige, on the other hand, carried a striking resemblance to an erupting volcano. Her voice could pass for a hurricane. With eyes of stone and a face like a furious animal, Paige stared at Cid, who watched with indignation and growing unease. Her rage continued undisturbed, coming off her in waves that almost rippled the air. Almost. Or so it felt, when she gave him that black look. He didn't know what to make of it.
"I ain't sayin' sorry, dammit," he stated, looking down his cigar at her.
"Huh?! %$#&$*^! I'm &#%&T$%$ gonna give you a &$#&*%&%# lesson you won't soon forget, unless you ^%*&$x#*% apologize! #$*^¥¿˟ᶋᵿ‡•₤₡₪₰₪₴∞ ɸק#...!" she retorted. Half of it was just what Cid had said to her earlier. The other half he would have to remember. It was an impressive string of offenses, all right, insulting about everything and everyone from his grandmother and mother to his arse and very own crown jewels. Something to remember for a later occasion.
"You're gonna live, though," said Cid calmly, stating the obvious while taking his cigar out of his mouth.
And with that, Paige's wrath came to an abrupt stop, like a balloon losing its air, only without the noise. Her expression faded to a gray mask as she sunk onto the closest chair. Letting her arms fall to Cid's desk, she leaned forward and gave a long, weary sigh, her face buried in the arms of her sweater. All energy had left her.
Half an hour.
For half an hour, she had been in there.
Sephiroth had followed her to see if he could find a reason behind her rushed escape. So far, however, all he had done was wait. He had no business inside. If he were to speculate about Paige's current situation, however, he would guess she had received bad news. Frowning slightly, he shifted his feet, dry gravel crunching beneath his boots. He was wearing his own clothes today. All the worse if somebody saw him. It was a good thing it was dark outside.
Eventually the door opened and Paige stumbled out. If she saw him, she displayed no sign of it. Slowly she shuffled closer, until they were a short stride apart. There she came to a reluctant stop. She looked quite as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders – her eyes were dull and watery, her face blank, her shoulders hunched. She seemed paralyzed, beaten. Letting her head drop, she sighed and – to his surprise – bumped him in the chest with her head. The head-butt was weak, but then he doubted she had intended it to be strong in the first place. The two of them stood still like that, Sephiroth looking down at the back of her pale hair, Paige's forehead resting against him. His thoughts wandered to what might be the reason behind her sullenness, and from his point of view, there was only one thing that seemed a logical cause.
Maybe her doctor had told her just how long she had left.
Perhaps the estimated time of her death had even passed.
Slowly, he placed a hand on her head. When there was no reaction, he averted his eyes and looked straight ahead, his eyes cold.
A last favour.
His eyes flickered.
For the dying.
Paige's breath hitched in her throat. Don't cry, she thought. Don't cry or anything. No matter what. I should be happy right now. Unaware of her inner turmoil, Sephiroth continued to stay still. In a way, despite everything that was going on, it comforted her that he didn't withdraw.
Without hurrying, he let his hand slide down from her head to her neck. There it rested for a long moment, until Paige decided to glance up. The last stride between them closed as he wrapped his arms around her in a deliberate embrace. Paige shut her eyes and rested her head below his collarbone – his heart thumped slowly in his chest, barely noticeable. She had trouble guessing how his face might look. Maybe wondering, or perhaps a tiny bit sad. Or completely unreadable, with eyes staring ahead. Last summer, after she found him in the forest, he had scowled so viciously at her that she had thought of his eyes as weapons. He was probably still like that, to a lot of other people.
Maybe he had thawed a little. In front of her, anyway.
With no warning, Sephiroth's hold around her tightened and he bent down a fraction. Her breath caught as he leapt up into the air and lunged forwards, striding on currents of wind. Grabbing handfuls of his black coat, she held tight and shut her eyes, feeling the wind dig into her back. It was already completely dark outside. Even if she turned her head, she wouldn't see a thing below – except for the tiny lights in the windows, maybe. For some seconds, Sephiroth increased his speed so much she could hardly even breathe. Wind surged past her ears, growing louder and louder.
Carefully, she opened her eyes a fraction and cast a glance around.
At first, she didn't understand where they were, or what it was they were seeing. When she looked around, though, realization came upon her. Below them – rushing past them at unbelievable speed – was a bulky, white and gray landscape of jagged, soft clouds. Up above, the moon was sitting still in the black heavens, big and white, minding its own business. The view didn't last, though. Sephiroth was flying so fast the wind stung her eyes, so she had to shut them tight. Together they raced forward, and before she could gather herself, they plummeted down again – through the icy clouds. Once more Paige shut her eyes and waited until they stopped (even if this wasn't her first time flying with him, it was still an eye-popping experience). This time Sephiroth landed on the ground – right by her house. So fast, Paige found herself thinking as she took in the view of the grass- and bush-covered garden. Absurdly, she caught herself making a mental note to mow the overgrown grass sometime soon. Then she remembered her all too embarrassingly fake leukemia.
Before she knew it, her grip on the front of Sephiroth's coat loosened and she let go of him, her head slumping down. A sigh left her that gave her the shivers, a sigh so deep and rattling it might as well have been the wail of a dying man. She felt miserable. Why did she feel miserable...? She should feel better than this. Especially after a flying trip like that.
"Here," said Sephiroth, distracting her. "Pay attention."
She turned to him only briefly, but meekly looked away before seeing his face. The garden lay before and around them, cluttered with bushes and trees that were too large, and grass that was too tall, and rocks she had yet to move out of the way. Then, all of a sudden, Sephiroth swung out his arm, and with it a searing, orange flame spread out and broke the darkness. It scorched the entire garden all around them in the span of seconds, travelling dangerously close to her house and the nearly new sauna. She stared, utterly flabbergasted. As soon as the blazes went out and disappeared, Sephiroth let flow a stream of ice. The moment the ice settled across the burnt grass, covering it, he let the cold crystals shatter and melt to water, effectively soaking the charred grass. Paige gawked at the magic. So much for mowing the lawn. The bushes, trees and the grass couldn't exactly boast at their size, or height, at the moment. She kept on staring, his magic having shocked her out of her stupor-of-lack-of-energy-and-willpower, certain that Sephiroth would soon scowl murderously at her and bitterly speak the words "Did I not say... pay attention?"
But he didn't. Before she saw his expression, he stooped and caught her off guard with a kiss. A strong hand spread on her back and he pressed her closer to him. She didn't struggle, didn't pull back, didn't even breathe. Then, just when she got her bearings, she lost them again. Her feet lost contact with the ground, and a second after, her back hit the burned dirt. At the same time a weight knocked the breath out of her. In the faint light from the windows of her house, she looked into the emerald eyes of the elf-prince-who-was-not-an-elf-prince.
Then she panicked.
Of course, she wouldn't let such a thing show, so her face stiffened into a mask. A sudden, unexpected personal space invasion like this was just asking for trouble, even though she liked Sephiroth more than what was healthy. And her mask was the only skill she had, however meagre its effects were. That said, it had quite the opposite effect of what she'd bargained for.
He was grinning down at her now.
Her mask left her face as fast as the air might leave a gunned-down balloon. Sephiroth found her hands and held them down as he let more of his weight fall on her. By now, she probably looked so shocked Sephiroth would start wondering if she was still conscious. That was, at least, how she felt – utterly paralyzed. Then his burning jade orbs and his lopsided smirk went out of her view, to her neck. Her head was spinning, whirling. She made a half-hearted attempt at freeing her hands, but apparently her entire body had turned into something vaguely similar to jelly on crack, because all she could do was tremble. Pushing her down while his mouth traced her neck, Sephiroth paid no attention to her shivers. Or perhaps he did, and that's why he'd decided to pin her down.
When she stopped uselessly fighting him, he pulled her up and onto his lap. With her straddling him, he paused. He looked down at her with his most intelligent, measuring gaze, his orbs a concentrated mass of emerald flares.
Like he was evaluating her. She didn't know what to do, or think.
Not really what to feel, either.
A favor for the dying.
He repeated it in his mind.
A favor for the dying.
He repeated it to himself every time his reason wandered dangerously far off, and he suddenly found himself thinking this is not so bad. Each time he realized he enjoyed touching her, or pressing her body closer to his, or clutching her tighter in his grasp. He repeated it every time he looked into her eyes and felt that utterly unfamiliar sensation course through his chest. But most of all, he repeated it to himself each and every time he felt even the slightest hint of sorrow at the thought of her imminent death:
A favor for the dying.
That was the only reason he let himself close in on her. He would only let himself approach because she would soon be gone, and once she was no more, he would never again indulge himself in anything like this again.
"What did he say?" he heard himself inquiring. "The doctor."
Paige's ice-colored eyes looked at him, unchanged in their mild confusion and wonder.
"He... He actually told me something good."
Sephiroth's eyes narrowed.
"He said, well, that my leukemia, uh..."
As he listened to her uncertain words, he slowly frowned.
"It seems he switched some papers with mine.... And..."
Before she could finish, he hoisted her up as he rose to his feet, and watched her intently. His frown was heavy on his face – that much, he knew. She wavered and stepped back, but he held her still. Wordlessly waiting for her to continue, he observed her closely.
"...He said I don't have... leukemia," she managed in a quiet voice.
While she watched, his face turned cold and his scowl faded into a stony expression. She half expected relief, but after looking into his eyes for a long moment, it dawned on her that such a thing might not come.
Sephiroth let go of her arms. Though he was by no means did so hurriedly, she felt her heart turn cold to the very core. When she saw him step back, it was as if she had just suffered a finishing blow. His face, his eyes, they were so empty when they perceived her, so unfeeling. She was staring openly now, helplessly wondering whether to reach out or perhaps say something. But in the presence of this powerful person, in a delicate matter like this, she really didn't have much of a say. The way he was standing, moving, looking at her, and not speaking a word...
He was leaving. Obviously leaving.
Lingering only for a moment, he turned away steadily, silvery wisps of hair drifting in his wake.
"Se-..." he barely heard her begin, but with no power behind it.
He continued his slow strides without pause, until he was out of the garden, out of her view, out of the reach of her voice. If he stopped now, or hesitated, there would be no escape later. The sooner he erased her existence from his mind, the better. With her leukemia out of the way, there honestly was no telling how long she would live. There was a great gap between a few months and a few decades. Some months, he could afford to waste. Decades, however, were another matter entirely.
In a case like this, immediately was the best time to severe all ties between them. Before she could manifest herself in his life. He would not turn soft or let his blade grow dull by staying with her.
That life was not for him.
So he would leave.
Now.
The first thing to greet them when they reached their destination was the rising, burning sun, swathed in layers of crimson clouds. Below it lay row by row of mountains, their silhouette dark in the young morning. Scattered about lay small houses and hamlets, a few with barns, most of them not looking overly wealthy. The only large buildings rested on a peninsula, and looked somewhat like a school. Surrounding it – like a rippling, moving mirror – the Columbia River coursed past, its surface playing with the bright, warm colors of the sky.
So far, though, the only thing they could hear was the roar of the helocopters' engines.
"You'd think Sephiroth'd choose somewhere less sparkly," remarked Reno, grinning wryly. After some seconds Tseng walked up from behind Reno and Rude, and observed the landscape below. "We're here, boss. What'd the professor say again?"
"... Literally, that except for Shinra's Headquarters, this is the only place on earth with high enough mako levels for there to be a chance of Sephiroth's materia to be nearby," explained Tseng. If anything, his voice was smoother than his explanation. "Put simply, since Sephiroth would hardly leave any of his powerful materia behind anywhere, he has to be close."
"Leave the reasons and science for the brainiacs," retorted Reno. "What're we up to?"
Tseng took a deliberate pause and glanced at the sheet of paper in his hand.
"We are to find and subdue Sephiroth, then return him to the Shinra Headquarters."
Huh.
"Easier said than done. We were given coordinates by Hojo, right?"
"You should know by now."
"I do, boss. But those coordinates are already days old. Maybe Sephiroth's somewhere else already."
"Hn," agreed Rude, who until now had busied himself with adjusting his sunglasses. Tseng spared him a measuring glance.
"If that turns out to be the case, then we only need to call professor Hojo and ask him to use the mako tracking machine again."
Paige was torn.
She had tried her best to brush it off. For a while, she'd tried to tell herself that Sephiroth would soon come back, as if nothing was wrong. Then she had told herself that this was bound to happen – Sephiroth would have left sooner or later anyway. After that she had attempted making fun of herself for being naïve enough to think that Sephiroth would fall for somebody like her. As if a super-awesome person like him would pay Paige-the-ant any notice. Finally, she settled for scowling at anything and everything that worsened her foul mood. No matter how she tried to belittle the situation, she felt like her chest had turned into a magnificently unmerciful wreck. She didn't know how to heal something like that.
"Yo," said John Smoth.
"Yo," repeated John Smoth.
"Yo," said John Smoth again.
"Yo," he repeated again.
"What," Paige breathed into the sofa pillow. She lay curled up on the black two-seat sofa. Earlier, she had considered throwing out everything that reminded her of Sephiroth-the-unreachable-and-not-keepable, including the three-seat sofa, the television, the Rubik's Cubes and so on, but she changed her mind when she thought of the sauna in the garden. Speaking of the garden, maybe she should go 'borrow' some weeds and bushes from her neighbors and plant them all over the garden, to hide the burns that man left behind.
"Your favorite record has got to go," rapped John Smoth, bobbing his head.
Paige said nothing.
"Yeah, we can take it all back to da register, start all ova' from da canister, let's break it all down." Still she said nothing.
From somewhere that seemed far away, she heard a buzzing sound. Like the distant droning of a refrigerator, or an approaching car. First she thought it was her imagination. As it grew louder, she figured it might come from the television. When she looked up to check, though (or actually to scowl murderously at the screen), she realized it was off. Sighing heavily, Paige curled up even more. The noise sounded like helicopters, now. She kept still, her annoyance growing. While she waited for the racket to quieten, she tried to convince herself to call her parents and tell them about her not-so-real leukemia. But she couldn't get herself to do it.
One sigh later, a different sound carried to her ears.
A knocking sound.
"Gah..."
By the time she mustered enough strength and willpower to sit up, a complete stranger was in her living room. Thankfully, that sharpened her senses enough for her to get to her feet.
"I apologize for the intrusion," the man said, then he flipped out a card that most likely explained who he was. She wasn't close enough to be able to read it, though. Maybe FBI or CIA or something along those lines. Before she replied, he put the card back in his pocket and removed his glasses. Pale skin, a spot of the forehead and long, black hair in a ponytail. And a suit. The suit was so neat and wrinkle-free he looked more like a two-dimensional poster than a man.
"Who're you? What're you doing here?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in warning at the business-like person.
"We are searching for a man called Sephiroth."
Now, that kind of came as a surprise, really. Maybe she should have seen it coming. Better not let her surprise show on her face, though. Come to think of it, was that why she'd heard helicopters? Because a lot of people were searching for Sephiroth?
"Have you seen him? He has long, silver hair." Maybe this suit-guy was from Shinba, or Chinba. Or Shinra. Whichever.
And so, Paige did her very best to make a face that said 'I have no freaking idea what the heck you're talking about.'
"I'm sorry, who?" Come on, scrunched-up eyebrows, sceptical turn of the lips and lazy, I-don't-give-a-crap eyes! If her face came out as teenagerish as she wanted it to, she was off the hook already.
"...Never mind, then," said the man, and turned to leave.
But...
"Yo. My name's Shut Up, what's yours?" asked John Smoth. Paige clenched her teeth and hoped the man wouldn't be bothered, but he stopped and faced the parrot. All three of them remained quiet while the suit-clad man put on his glasses again. Once he did, though, John Smoth stood as tall as he could and rustled his feathers vigorously.
"Hojo!" the bird exclaimed, flapping his wings. "Hojo!"
Inwardly, Paige repeated the string of dark curses she'd yelled at her doctor last night. Her face was already mask-covered, though: Mild confusion, a hint of wonder, and a tiny dash of I-have-no-idea-what-he-just-said,-and-I-really-don't-give-a-crap. Inside her head, on the other hand (next to the string of curses), a storm of doom and and a thousand thunders and lightnings was raging. Though she didn't exactly remember who Hojo was, he had something to do with Chinra. Or Shinra.
"...Hojo, you say," muttered Tseng, and glanced at Paige.
She did her best to look back with disinterest. "What the heck is Hojo?"
Tseng looked down at her, his eyes calm and measuring. From his pocket, he fished up a cellphone. Before she knew it he had dialled a number and was talking to somebody. Paige wondered if this was the right moment to try out a karate move or two, but soon realized her brain had chosen this moment to give her a blackout on every subject vaguely connected to martial arts. It was funny, almost.
"Reno, gather the men and the beasts and get to the north-westernmost house," ordered Tseng. "The one with the burnt garden. There is a chance that is Sephiroth's doing."
Karate skills, come to me! Paige thought ferociously, but to no avail, as usual. But wait a minute, 'the men and the beasts'?!
"No, Sephiroth isn't here. There are people here who might have information on him, though. We'll take them with us back."
Paige stared, wide-eyed.
Take... with?
"Got my eye on ya," informed John Smoth.
R.R.
Next time I will be faster..