Tell Me It Isn't True
If I were to say that Tseng was not a difficult person to be around, I'd be lying. From one moment to the next, I never know whether he's going to cuddle up to me like a kitten or strike at me like a snake.
I'm discovering that it's nothing more than an inner struggle for him though. So I'm doing my best to ignore it when he turns on me and I'm finding myself wanting to take advantage of it when he's not lashing out since it's probably the best I'll ever get from him.
But I suppose I can't blame him for being the way that he is and I suppose I can't blame him for constantly shutting himself off around me, especially after everything I'm piecing together.
He grew up fighting, not because he wanted to and from what I gathered from his mother, he wound up fighting back with a vengeance. Then he was taken advantage of by an older man who took him away from his home and turned on him afterwards, leaving him nowhere and with no friends and no home.
He tells me he didn't join the Turks right away though. Instead, he tells me he wanted nothing to do with them after what happened, and he wound up following up on what he already started with, which was studying medicine. But he was in Midgar that time around and quickly discovered that the rest of the world wasn't much different from Wutai—traditions aside—and unlike all the other students he studied with, he was the only one that struggled in order to pay his own way.
Consequently, he ran out of funds and found himself having to make ends meet by signing up for Soldier as a grunt where he was able to continue studying medicine under their jurisdiction. But when his superiors reviewed him after a year, they decided that he would be more beneficial to the company in the higher offices and put forth a grant for him to join the academy for the department of research.
But unfortunately, they wouldn't pay for his place of residence—only the schooling—and since he was no longer in Soldier, he had no barracks to reside in. So he found himself overworking again and trying to make ends meet while living in a run-down shack in Sector 2.
He jokes about it though. And he states that it was a good thing for him because with all the trouble he had to deal with in Sector 2 as far as hunting down vagrants who stole from him and defending himself, he was able to keep his skills up. And he was way ahead of the other junior Turks he was schooling with when it came to requirements and expectations because of it.
And when I ask him what happened to his lover and if the man ever made any attempt to help him, he simply shakes his head and turns cold, and chillingly comments, "He was murdered," while emptily staring at me for a moment before turning away and muttering, "There was no way I would have joined if he were still there."
I can't help but get the feeling that he had something to do with it, if not directly, and I find myself being reminded of my first impression of him in regard to his trustworthiness while he continues to try to dry himself by the heat of the fire. Whether it's speculation on my part or not, I don't know. But he doesn't seem to show any remorse for any of the deaths that he's come across so far and from what I understand, he worked closely with some of the men that he and his Turks are after.
But I also find myself not really caring as much about that as I am about the fact that the air is becoming chill and that he's being ridiculously stubborn again. And I don't even bother to put much thought into what I do as I grab him from behind without any warning and drag him into the tent while he protests.
When the morning arrives, I find myself still lying beside him, not having slept myself due to the concern of him trying to get away. Though I'm not sure why I concern myself since the Seal Materia I purchased from Gongaga seems to have done the trick in putting him into a dead sleep.
I suspect he won't be too happy about it when he wakes up though. But considering who he is and the way that he turns without warning, it seemed like the most viable option. Although there's no point in focusing on it too much, and I pull his blankets up and tuck them more securely around him to ensure that he stays warm.
I can't tell by the way my own body regulates its temperature, but judging from the cool feel of his exposed skin, I'm assuming the air is chill this morning. Then after he's bundled up, I test the knots on the tie I used to bind his wrists and I test the give on the spare tent pole I drove into the ground to have something to secure him with.
I know I've gone too far and that he's not going to be happy about it either. But still, I can't really say that I trust him all that much. It's not that I'm worried about myself though, because I'm not. It's more for his sake than for mine, and with mixed feelings of regret and concern, I lean over him and brush his strong hair away from his face.
Then I open one of his eyes to ensure he's still in a deep sleep and place my lips against his cool forehead while inhaling the fading scents I find strangely appealing from him.
"I'll be right back," I tell him in an earthen-heavy whisper as if I don't want to disturb him, even though I need to ensure him. Or more accurately, I need to alleviate the guilt from myself by ensuring us both that I won't be leaving him for long.
He doesn't stir as I leave and I take a strange discomfort in it while I turn and mutter out, "Sleepel," to ensure that he stays asleep while I'm gone.
The first thing I do once I step out into the waxing signs of light is check to see how dry his clothes are. Then I throw some more wood on the fire in hopes that they'll be acceptable by the time he awakens and I feel the strange need to tell myself that I'm not doing this for his approval because I doubt I'd ever get it anyway.
Besides, I know how angry he's going to be once he discovers I used a spell to knock him out and then tied him up with his own tie again. And I'm not exactly sure how he's going to feel about having no clothes on either. Although I'm sure it's going to be just as fitting as I would expect.
But none of that's important right now and I'll deal with it when I need to. Right now, my only concern is finding him food. And I find myself standing at the edge of the river while sharpening a stick with one of his blades so I can use it as a spear while figuring he'll be upset about that too.
It's been a long time since I've needed to catch a fish, and I can't say that I recall ever doing it. I can't even say that I really know how. But I doubt it's very hard and with the reflexes and sight I was enhanced with after Nibelheim, I probably don't even need the spear. But it helps me to feel less like the creature I was turned into to do things the way everyone else does them, and it makes me feel a little more in control of what little humanity I was left with.
It doesn't take me long to spot a fish big enough to feed him but small enough to not be a waste, and I catch it just as easily as I spot it. Then I take a small side-trip to search for one of the fruit trees I know of that grows in the area. I'm not sure if they're in season but I doubt there's any harm in looking while a small part of me hopes that they are and that they're ripe.
Maybe it's nothing more than trivial, even though I know he craves for sugars and question whether it's a want, a need, or a substitute. But then I tell myself it doesn't hurt anyone or anything to appease his nature with something so harmless, and I continue on my search with a strange twinge tugging at my insides.
Why I grab at the chain around my neck when I finally spot the tree I'm looking for and discover it's in season almost eludes me. And I stand there for a moment, simply holding the small orb that hangs from it while a dead weight pulls at me and I lower my head while losing myself in thoughts unknown to me.
Then I suddenly remember as if the memory was locked away for whatever reason that the same trees grow natively around Nibelheim as well.
"I thought you were supposed to be my bodyguard? And here you are… Sleeping under a fruit-tree… I could have been in danger…"
Her voice almost sounds like it's next to me. A teasing and flirtatious tone, and I remember her standing above me with a picnic basket after waking me from an unplanned nap. She was always like that, Lucrecia—close to me when there was no threat of becoming intimate and distant whenever we were close, and I suddenly wonder as I turn my attention back to the camp if my real intentions in regard to Tseng are as genuine and forthright as I want to believe they are.
And almost like I'm answering my own question, I quickly grab a few of the husked fruits from the tree and make my way back to ensure that Tseng isn't in any danger from his surroundings or from himself. All the while, I try my best to convince myself that he isn't a substitute for the things I wanted or couldn't stop in the past.
When I return to the camp, I can hear him moving around, almost like he's struggling and I lower my head while I grab his clothes from near the fire. Then I grit my teeth and enter to see that he's managed to get himself partially untied by using his teeth and I make a mental note to gag him next time.
Although I'm not exactly sure why I'm making such plans, considering that I shouldn't be doing it in the first place.
And all he does when he sees me through the corner of his eye is rest his head on the ground while strands of hair partially cover his face and he turns his eyes to look at me sideways with that dark look that compliments everything else that's dark about him, suggesting that he's not impressed. He doesn't say anything though.
Instead, he just stares at me while I keep my head down and stare back at him through a black veil of weighted bangs. Then he quirks his brow for a second and purses his lips before turning his attention back to his restraints.
"Why did you take my clothes off?"
He asks the question with as little emotion as possible while he stares at his wrists and waits for an answer.
"They were wet," is all I tell him in the same flat tone before I chance a step forward and kneel beside him.
"Do you really think sedating me and tying me up was necessary?"
"Yes."
With a short snort, he turns his attention back to me and gives a quick shake to his head to get his hair out of his face. And when he fails, I kneel beside him and reach over to brush it back for him. Then I place his clothes near him and start to undo his restraints.
"I've killed people for less," he tells me and I don't doubt he's telling the truth. I also don't ask him to elaborate why he hasn't tried as I place his tie near his clothes and he sits up while pulling the blanket more securely around him to hide his insecurities.
Instead, I just stare at him while he stares back with that empty look of his. I know he's waiting for me to leave so he can get dressed without me watching him even though I've already seen him and it seems pointless to me.
But I suppose I should understand and I wind up lowering my head for a moment before I get up and tell him, "I found you some breakfast," while making my exit.
I'd tell him he can cook it himself as well. But I don't really feel like it needs to be said, and I wait patiently for him to come out while I pay close attention to our surroundings and place some more wood on the fire so he can cook the fish more efficiently.
It's getting lighter out and I can't see any signs of any more Turks looking for him. Though none of it stops me from being wary and anxious about it. And when he steps out, I hand him a sharp stick for him to cook with and walk away from him so I can crouch near the outskirts of our camp and concentrate on our surroundings.
"You washed my clothes," he comments as he appears to show no concern over the lack of attention I'm giving to him before he gratingly states, "I never asked you to do that."
I only grit my teeth and remind myself that I never asked him if he wanted me to do it and that it should make us even. Or at least, it gives me a false sense of justification over his thankless nature. And as a further act of insubordination toward him, I don't bother to ask him if his breakfast is suitable when he starts to cook it because I tell myself that I don't really care.
"Mm," he mutters as I hear him licking his fingers while I continue to watch and listen closely to the woods, "This is good. I cooked it with the fruit. You should try it…"
Whether he does it on purpose or it's a twisted game he likes to play, I refrain from telling him I don't require it and flatly state, "I'm not hungry," while keeping my back to him.
"I didn't ask you if you were," he replies as I hear him coming closer and I sink my face farther into my mantle, "I said you should try it."
"I've had fish before," I tell him. Then I turn my attention further away in hopes that he'll take the hint and leave me alone.
He doesn't though. Instead, he tilts his head and tears a piece off to offer it to me, causing me to react out of the sheer bitter mood I'm suddenly in. And I grab his wrist with my armoured hand to make him drop it and violently push him back when I realize what I've done.
"That was uncalled for," he mutters, sprawled out on the ground and instead of saying anything, I start to walk away, not even wondering why he's in a more pleasant mood than I expected. Then I hear him hold back a suppressed grunt when he tries to get up and despite the concern, I wind up gripping at my own stomach from a sudden dizzy spell that's been coming and going ever since Nibelheim. And it stops me from turning around to see if he's okay.
And by the time it passes and I hear him stumble, I turn around to see him walking a fair distance in the opposite direction from me. Then I see a few drops of blood where he was lying and notice that he has some smeared on the back of his hand as if he wiped it away from somewhere.
For a moment, I'm not sure of what I should do and I simply stand there and watch him a little longer. I watch him grimace slightly and grasp at his side, and I hear him suppress an aching complaint. In an attempt to hide the fact that I'm concerned, though unable to hide my curiosity, the best I can manage is, "Where are you going?"
"Cosmo Canyon," he tells me without turning around.
He doesn't stop and continues in the direction he's walking in.
"There should be a phone there," he mutters as he waves his hand at me dismissively and adds, "I'm sure Reno will be able to pick me up… If not… Rude or Elena…"
And suddenly, I'm angered. Though I don't know why. Or at the very least, I don't want to admit the reason to myself when I take note that he mentioned Reno's name before anyone else's. And I'm right behind him and giving him any excuse I can come up with to stay near him again.
"I'll accompany you. The canyons are dangerous."
He stops when I say that and turns to look at me while he wipes some more blood from his mouth, allowing me to see that I'd hit him without realizing it, which caused him to bite his lip. Then he tilts his head and reveals a scratch that I must have marked him with when I pushed him over and stares right through me with those piercing charcoal eyes and dumbly states, "Really."
Then he smirks and looks me up and down before returning to his venture and mutters with his back to me, "I believe I'll take my chances with the Canyons, Vince."
And after that, he digs around in his pockets and puts his gloves on before mumbling, "Cure," for himself while refusing to look back.
Despite what he says and what I feel, or at the very least, what I think I should do, I find myself struggling with his wishes against my own. And I stand, just watching him as he walks away.
I'm about to do the same in the opposite direction. And just as I'm about to leave him be, he lets out a suppressed grunt and grabs at his stomach like a sharp pain has struck him and he doubles over and falls to his knees. I only stand and watch for a moment, not really registering what's going on at first and cynically thinking that he probably deserves whatever ache he's suffering from.
But like the pathetic sycophant that I am when it comes to him, the moment he falls completely over from passing out, I'm right at his side again.
I can't find any damage though, or anything wrong with him at all even though he still doesn't respond. To make matters more confusing, there's not any creatures or enemies present that could have been responsible for knocking him out or hurting him either.
"Tseng," I urge with a whispery and bothered hoarseness full of an anxiousness that I can't hide as I shake him to encourage a response. Then I frown when he doesn't stir and I lower my ear to his chest to hear his heart beating irregularly, much like the way I found him after the remnants.
I have no idea if this is something new though, or if it's something that's happened to him before or since then, and I remove my gloves so I can feel the temperature of his skin.
Only, I think I might have bargained for more than I intended even though I don't exactly know what happens next, nor can I really explain it.
Everything has turned black and my senses feel like they've completely shut down. I can't see anything, hear anything, or even feel. I can't even pull enough of myself together to even fear why everything feels the way it did after Hojo shot me or what I suspect happened to Tseng after Sephiroth stabbed him.
It passes though.
And a strong flash of silvery-blue fills every sense in my body, even the chill of the colour and the cold and subtle peppermint-like taste and smell of it makes it all become alive with a strange and crippling sensation before it fades to a darker, almost indigo shade that masks over everything as if I'm peering through a darkened window.
And suddenly all my senses are dead and unresponsive again, except for what I can see and hear, and no matter how much I try to struggle, I can't shake it off. Then I suddenly realize that I'm not where I thought I was, nor anywhere near it.
I'm nowhere I've ever been before and even though I feel like I'm not welcome, I can't bring myself to leave…
I'm somewhere in the past. But it isn't mine, nor is this the first time it's ever happened. Though I can safely and thankfully say that it hasn't happened for a very long time.
And the first thing I get a glimpse of is Tseng reading over a handful of records in Hojo's lab, looking much like he does now, leading me to believe that the occurrence is taking place sometime before his demise at the Temple.
All the while, Hojo hovers over his shoulder with his hands clasped behind his back and hungrily watches the Turk's disturbed and growing concern over what he's reading.
"This is an abomination," Tseng distantly states as he continues to read and flips through the pages, looking like he doesn't want to know what he's finding out but is unable to stop, just the same.
All Hojo does in return is taxingly croon that, "That's not a very pleasant thing to say," before he places his hands on Tseng's shoulders and lowers his voice so he can chidingly drone into his ear, "Considering I don't criticize any of the things that you do…"
When Tseng stiffens, Hojo smiles with that insincerity I'd come to know so well. Then he lets out a low cackle and emphasizes his firming grip on Tseng's shoulders.
"Or even who you do them with…"
"Leviathan," Tseng mutters, almost dizzy sounding. Though it's like he's not even listening to Hojo as he takes a step forward and disbelievingly shakes his head while Hojo mimics him out of sheer amusement, "This is too insane, Dr. Hojo, even for you."
"Perhaps," the mad scientist agrees before he pushes his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and licks at his pencil-thin lips like a toad would do.
"But surely, you can understand my concern, particularly for your own well-being," Hojo imparts before he takes a moment to let out another screeching cackle that removes any genuine intentions from his words.
Then he sneers at Tseng and lowers his voice again, turning deadly serious and carrying a heavy warning to his tone as he says to the man's back while Tseng stiffens again, "I'm hoping you can understand the reason I'm urging you to stay away from him."
"He's going to destroy the world," Tseng suddenly confronts as he turns around and angrily shakes the papers at Hojo while suffering from a sudden loss of composure. Then he takes a threatening step forward and Hojo steps back in defence even though there's no trace of fear in the lunatic's composure.
"I wouldn't threaten me if I were you," Hojo warns before he smiles in a conniving manner and cackles again, "I've taken the liberty of injecting myself with the Jenova cells as well, so I can be just as indestructible as my son. And if I recall correctly, there's nothing you can do about it and no one that can help you. The President is dead and his son is far too immature and inexperienced to even begin to understand what he'd be dealing with, and your lover… Well, let's just say that he's already bonded with Jenova in the most exceptional way…"
"You've gone mad," Tseng confronts with a tightening throat that suggests the amount of control he's trying to exercise over his emotions while Hojo appears to ignore him and focuses more on his own thoughts.
"I believe he's calling it Mother… Interesting…"
Realizing that Hojo isn't listening, Tseng disbelievingly shakes his head to quickly shake off whatever disturbing revelations he's been made aware of and he starts to walk out while Hojo asks him where he's going.
"To try to stop him," is his answer, "There has to be a small part of him left…"
"Oh… I think the romantic in you is still refusing to see things clearly," Hojo cruelly gnaws and snickers when the Turk stiffens again, and he appears satisfied from the reaction.
Then he outright cackles again, like nails on a chalkboard when the Turk refuses to turn around and exhibits nothing more than a strong desire to get away from him as fast as he can.
Another bright flash fills my senses all the sudden, almost blinding but leaving no lasting effect. It feels like a shockwave travelling briefly through my system and I almost can't breathe for a moment as if there's no air present. Then I'm somewhere that looks like it's further in the past, and Tseng is standing in what might have been the living room of a home he used to live in with what looks like the note I found in his bedroom—from his wife—falling from a suddenly listless hand.
"Leviathan…" he mutters in a choking and suffocating voice before his hand covers his mouth and he stares, paling, at a door down the hall where water is crawling from under the door.
It's almost like he doesn't want to move or even know what's on the other side before he pales even more and desperately calls out, "Saity?" in a searching and shaking tone. Then he lowers his voice and quietly begs out a plea as he takes a hesitant and faltering step forward, clumsily tripping on the air and calls his wife's name, "Marina!"
For a moment, he only shakes as if he's gone weak and wipes at his upper lip before unexpectedly bolting down the hall to forcefully kick the door open. I can't see anything though. For some reason, I can't seem to follow him to see what he's seeing as he grips onto the frame to support himself from a sudden inability to stand while pinkish water pools at his feet.
But whatever he's found doesn't appear to be what he was searching for even though it seems like it was something he didn't want to find or bear witness to, and he swallows hard before regaining himself and running to another door in the narrow hallway while muttering, "Leviathan," again, and "Please don't take her away from me," before he opens the door and falls to his knees with a death-screeching wail.
It stops there though. As much as my morbid sense of curiosity wants to know what's going on and what it's about, I don't get to know or see, and another shockwave passes through me, powerful and hurting this time.
And suddenly, I'm seeing something I'm wishing I wasn't seeing as a growing mixture of hatred, mistrust, and a sudden desire to get away from wherever I am grows within me so I never have to see any of it again.
"I wish you weren't going to Nibelheim tomorrow," Tseng mutters to a silver-haired general that fills me with a sickening sense while he lies in a bed with a man who'll stab him. Though I'm beginning to wonder if it wasn't just an act all the sudden, "You just got back today."
"I have something for you," he tells the lying Turk as if he's avoiding the comment while they lay tangled and with obvious signs of what they were doing only moments ago.
"Like what?" Tseng asks in a breathy and disinterested exhale that's sounds fake while Sephiroth's hands travel down the front of him and push the silken-black blankets down, exposing a glimpse to me of what Tseng's body looked like before the remnants got a hold of him, perfect, full of vanity, and like smooth cream.
"Something you'll like," Sephiroth mutters as he turns Tseng onto his back so he can look down at him. Then he brushes the ends of Tseng's hair out, fanning it across the pillows and stares at it like he admires the colour before he starts placing gentle kisses along the man's neck while his own silver strands trail over Tseng's torso like every part of him wants to envelope and possess the man.
"As much as I like being with you, I'm not doing it again," Tseng mumbles before he pushes Sephiroth back and turns so he's facing him and curls up to protect himself from his lover's wandering hands. Then he shyly smiles and mutters, "I don't have the same sex drive that you possess."
"Sometimes, I think that you don't have one at all," Sephiroth responds, almost wryly but playfully at the same time before he reaches down toward the floor on his side of the bed and pulls up a long and narrow package while teasingly commenting, "But that wasn't what I meant, my sour little tonberry."
Then he hands Tseng the box and Tseng quirks his brow as he sits up and looks at the card hanging from a string that's attached to it while he holds it between his fore and middle fingers. After that, he snorts and tears the card from the string so he can flick it at the insane General while candidly stating, "Your writing is atrocious—I can't read it."
Sephiroth takes no offence though, seemingly used to Tseng's brashness and almost appearing to be taken by it. Then he smiles with an almost smitten look in his eyes at the feigned cruelty and leans toward his dark-haired beauty while toying with the man by touching him everywhere he knows he doesn't want him to and purrs out, "It says, Happy Birthday, my sour little tonberry."
"That's not what it says," Tseng confronts with playfully confronting eyes as he regards his silver-haired lover and faintly smirks, "All it said was 'Happy Birthday.'"
"I thought you said you couldn't read it."
"Hm," Tseng mutters while he quirks his brow and pulls the rest of the strings off the box so he can open it, "My birthday was months ago."
"And when was the last time I saw you?"
"Months ago," Tseng admits. Then he opens the box and stares at its contents in confusion while mumbling again, "Several months ago."
Then he pulls the strange object out of the box while Sephiroth grumbles about how seldom they get to see each other because one or both of them is always out on the field or too busy with work. But Tseng doesn't seem to be paying attention to him while he studies the object's smooth handle that's woven in pewter and silver and he runs his eyes along the medium length of the strange, almost pole-like, rod.
"What in Leviathan's name…?" he starts, almost whispering as he runs his hand along it and studies the strange grooves that become more prominent near the sharpening end.
"Move your hand away and press the button," Sephiroth tells him with a sly grin as he coyly narrows his eyes and moves slightly back as he watches Tseng jump when fine blades open from the grooves and quickly spin before disappearing back from where they came. The sequence is only a heartbeat, and Sephiroth appears to wallow in Tseng's confusion before finally giving in and explaining what it is and why he got it.
He tells him it reminded him of the Turk, sharp, piercing, and shredding while Tseng stares at him like the comment doesn't impress or flatter him in the least. Then he snickers and tells the Turk that he couldn't resist it, much like he can't resist the Turk as he leans closer to him and starts placing gentle kisses along his neck again, stirring something dangerous inside of me and making me want to break loose out of whatever prison I'm being held in so I can stop him from touching Tseng like that.
"The man that made it called it The Shredder," he mutters in between his sickening and betraying show of affection.
"Hm," Tseng mutters.
Then he hits the switch again and watches it with a quirked brow before he places it beside them on the bed like he's not really interested in it. Afterwards, he closes his eyes while breathing out as Sephiroth works his way down his torso and ignores Tseng's mild nudges that tell him to stop, "I don't know whether I should be flattered or insulted."
And suddenly, I feel like something has gotten a hold of me, reflecting the way I'd like to get a hold of something else. Its grip is constricting before I feel like I'm forcefully pulled forward by the front of my cloak by an invisible entity.
Then everything around me dims and fades away and I hear Sephiroth's voice, low, feral and threatening as what he says is stressed as a warning for me to take seriously.
"Stay away from him, Vincent."
