Author's Note: It was only a matter of time until I came to this cliche yet unavoidable moment. I apologise for the predictable twist (being somewhat constrained by the timeline of game events), but it all has a point in the end, promise.
The Fifth Act
Chapter 8
By Sinnatious
ShinRa mansion.
Cloud took a deep breath, but it did little to settle his nerves.
Desperate moments where he pounded the walls of the mako tank, frantic to escape the poisonous blanket of burning green. Arching back, thrashing, as shocks from the tank's electrodes zapped him, forcing him into submission. The early times, the moments of lucidity when he trembled in Zack's grasp in a cold, dank cell, silently begging for the nightmare to end.
Cloud shook his head, even as fresh images crowded in. He thought he had a handle on this time travelling thing by now, but apparently he hadn't counted on how many old wounds it would open. Every time he saw this place, new memories were unearthed - memories he didn't want and didn't need. This was why he stayed away. Too many of them littered Nibelheim. He'd lose his mind at this rate.
Get in, fetch Vincent, and get out again. Destroy Jenova and leave this cursed placed behind. He focused on that goal.
At least he didn't have a small doppelganger shadowing him this time. Cloud left the inn at first light, not wanting to risk Lockhart or any of the town's children following him to the mansion. Crisp morning air chilled his cheeks - a sharp, comforting bite of reality.
The gate was locked, but Cloud simply vaulted over it. His boots crunched in the frosted grass, and he felt for the reassuring weight of First Tsurugi. The front door, fortunately, didn't require a key. And why would it? The upper levels contained few secrets - only dusty dressers, moth-eaten beds, locked doors and scattered laboratory notes that wouldn't mean a thing to anyone not already intimately connected with their horrors.
He spent a few minutes checking all the rooms, just in case – he didn't want to get surprised if the mansion were inhabited during this period. A sickly perfume permeated the air, the scent of a woman who lived there once and whose essence couldn't escape the stuffy confines of the abandoned building. Lucrecia, maybe? Sephiroth grew up here, and if she was his mother…
It didn't matter. He'd confirmed that the only inhabitants of the mansion at this point were monsters and memories. The basement, next.
The sense of dread as he opened the path to the concealed staircase coalesced into a bitter taste in his mouth. Going down here again, willingly, alone and without backup. It had been hard enough with Tifa and the others at his side.
No need to see the tanks, he bargained. Stick to the plan. Wake up Vincent and leave. Hopefully the former Turk would be cooperative and not decide he needed another eight years of sleep.
The basement was as cheery as he remembered – more a dungeon carved out of a cave than a laboratory. Fighting down the bile rising in his throat – Gaia, he could practically see the green haze in front of his eyes – he staggered towards the closest door.
"Feeding time - that's our chance."
Sahagins skittered through the shadows, but he didn't intend on paying them any attention so long as they kept their distance.
"Stay right here buddy, I'll go clear the way."
How miserable the last few months of Zack's life must have been, with nothing more than an unresponsive vegetable for company when the whole world was out to get him. How alone. And here he was getting upset over his mother not accepting him because of a poorly-thought out lie, and getting lonely because Tifa and Marlene and Denzel and the friends he'd grown comfortable with were now somewhere he couldn't reach? So much for his born-again strength after Kadaj's Reunion. It turned out you couldn't really get over some things – you could only learn to ignore them. Just until fate threw them back in your face.
Waking up on a cold steel table, gasping for breath as nameless doctors held him down, the pull of a sword wound in the middle of his chest-
A room full of coffins. Brow drawn in concentration, Cloud struggled to remember which one housed Vincent. Giving up, he instead went and pressed his ear against each of them in turn.
There. A sluggishly beating heart, and a faint draw of breath.
He didn't have keys, but First Tsurugi cut through the rusted lock with little effort. Cloud threw back the heavy lid carelessly, satisfied at the sight of a tattered red cloak and long, black hair.
"Vincent Valentine."
Just like before, it didn't take the man long to gather his wits, despite years of sleep. Several slow, disoriented blinks, and he lurched to a sitting position. His golden gauntlet reached for the coffin lid, but Cloud's wake-up call had torn it from its hinges and it now lay on floor, just beyond his grasp. Vincent stared at it as though betrayed. "Who are you, and why have you disturbed my rest?" His tone was edged with the threat of injury.
"My name is Cloud Strife, and I'm going to kill Hojo."
As expected, Vincent stilled, eyes finally turning to appraise him properly. Good. The hardest part would be getting the former Turk to hear him out. "Hojo?" The crimson gaze became considering as he took in his clothes. "Are you with ShinRa?"
"I used to be."
Comprehension. "You were one of his experiments too."
Cloud nodded. If he read things correctly, about now Vincent would lie back down and say-
"Do what you want, and leave me to my rest. It's no business of mine what ShinRa does anymore."
Right on cue. "Not even when it involves Lucrecia's son?"
Vincent sat up again. "Lucrecia's… son?"
Like holding gysal greens in front of chocobo. Under other circumstances, Cloud might have felt bad for manipulating his comrade's emotions in such a way, but being inside the mansion made him anxious, and the sooner he could get Vincent to move, the sooner they could be on their way. "Sephiroth."
"Sephiroth… And how does this relate to you killing Hojo?" The strategic cogs in the former Turk's brain were grinding to life again after years of disuse, he could see.
"Because before I kill Hojo, I need to destroy Jenova. He injected her cells into Sephiroth."
The news visibly troubled him, despite his reluctance to become involved. "And why do you need my help?" He could read between the lines, could pick up the distrust in those red eyes. What Vincent really wanted to know was 'how do I know this isn't one of Hojo's traps?'
Uncomfortable now, Cloud admitted, "Because I have her cells in me too. Not as many as Sephiroth-" He had S-cells to make up for that. "-But enough that I can't be sure what might happen if I try to destroy her alone." His link with Sephiroth was far stronger than the one with Jenova, but her cells were still the conduit.
A pause. Then he mumbled, "That's why you disturbed me?"
Vincent never had been a morning person. "This is important. I don't have anyone else to back me up." The silence stretched. "…Do you really want to let Hojo do whatever he wants?" he tried.
It didn't strike him as a question that needed consideration, but Vincent sat, deep in thought, as thirty seconds slowly crawled by. Cloud tried to remain still and ignore his growing unease. It only took a few moments without distractions for the memories to start crowding in again. Maybe he should have stuck to the original script he used when he pried Vincent from the basement the first time. At least he knew that way would work.
"My sins are many…" His voice wafted through the silence, dark and wistful.
"Staying asleep in here won't absolve you of them any faster," he interrupted, growing impatient. Was this how Tifa felt whenever he dragged his feet? "Get outside and do something before Lucrecia's son destroys the planet."
Vincent swung himself out of the coffin and landed on the floor silently. "Destroy the planet? Why would Lucrecia's son do such a thing?" His curiosity was waking up. Finally. Vincent out of the coffin was almost as good as Vincent out the door.
Still, this would be difficult to explain. His old comrade would pick up any inconsistency, no matter how tiny, in his story. "Jenova's an alien that once tried to destroy the planet, and would have succeeded if it weren't for the Cetra."
A nod. "I remember some of Lucrecia's research on the matter. It was at odds with Professors Gast and Hojo's initial opinions."
Right, the research. It saved him having to fill him in on everything then and there. "Sephiroth will do so in Jenova's place. I'm going to stop them."
To his surprise, however, the former Turk frowned. "Stop Sephiroth? Hojo and Jenova I can understand, but once they are removed from the picture, why should Lucrecia's son be a threat?"
…That was not part of the plan.
Mind racing furiously, he struggled to recalculate. Cloud thought Vincent would be with him on the matter for sure. But he'd forgotten - this Sephiroth was not yet responsible for any atrocities. Hadn't even burned down a village, much less threatened the entire planet. Something certain for Cloud remained only one of many possibilities to the former Turk.
Waking Vincent may have been a strategic error.
Sephiroth stood by the window again, watching the courtyard in front of the main entrance.
"Though no oath is shared between the lovers
In their hearts they know they will meet again."
His shoulders tensed. "Genesis."
"Strife is hardly going to go through the front entrance, you know," Genesis commented, throwing his maroon coat carelessly over the back of a chair before straddling it.
"And you formed that opinion on what? His subtlety in Wutai?" Based on that performance, Strife might not only go through the front entrance, but he might do so in a tank.
Genesis made a cutting motion with his hand, sending a significant look towards the door. Ah. Angeal was coming too. No overt mentions of death threats, then.
On cue, the door slid open, and the stocky SOLDIER First entered, arms laden with food containers. "Hey," he greeted, then paused, taking in the layout of the scene. "People-watching again?"
Genesis rolled his eyes. "It's all he does in his spare time these days. Careful, Sephiroth. Angeal and I might beat you next practice session."
The mention of a practice session made him tense, and he saw Angeal stiffen too, but neither of them replied. They hadn't fought since that time Angeal's broadsword broke, and they were faced with a shoulder wound that refused to heal.
Except it obviously had healed at some point. Genesis no longer winced when he shrugged, and the telltale bulge of bandages under his coat was missing. Despite the improvement, they remained reluctant to spar again. Scrapes shouldn't take weeks to heal, not when the average SOLDIER could recover from a bullet wound overnight.
"I might need the practice," he agreed. Genesis and Angeal together were a decent challenge, but his thoughts wandered to the blond stranger again. In Wutai, he'd come across a warrior who could fight him evenly, one-on-one, no handicaps.
How long had it been since he last enjoyed the thrill of battle so much?
"You're obsessed," Angeal observed, dumping his burden on the desk. "Huh. Never thought I'd see the day anybody would get under your skin like that."
"It's no surprise," Genesis drawled. "The great General Sephiroth has never been defeated before."
It was only logical. The man presented a mystery. "We didn't get to conclude our fight," he corrected.
"I don't care who won what. Get over here and eat your take-out," Angeal ordered. "If he's half as amazing as I've heard, we'll know when this Strife character arrives. If he arrives. And if he doesn't, the Turks will find him."
Sephiroth frowned, finally taking a seat at his desk and accepting the pair of cheap chopsticks. "The Turks?" He sent a glance at Genesis, who deliberately avoided returning it. They'd agreed to avoid making a full report on Strife to the company, mentioning him only as an aside in the Wutai mission logs.
"We have a meeting about him with Tseng at the end of the week. You weren't informed?"
"No." Sephiroth stared harder, and Genesis in turn focused on his food more intently. "I wasn't. What's it about?"
"They just want more information, by the sounds of it. There are rumours about some mercenary who managed to fight you to a draw. You didn't think they'd be interested?"
"In a hired third party who withdrew from the war well before its conclusion? No." A lie, and everybody knew it. Sephiroth busied himself with his food, breathing in the tangy aroma appreciatively. Spicy noodles. One could, in fact, become tired of gourmet dinners.
"Why not? You're interested. And anything that catches the attention of ShinRa's star SOLDIER is bound to get the Turks curious."
Genesis cleared his throat, and Angeal threw him an amused glance. "And before I forget, the 'Hero of Wutai' is in on it, too."
Sephiroth still felt uneasy about it, but the matter appeared to be out of his hands. It must have been Genesis's handiwork, and he could only hope he knew what he was doing. "So long as the Turks don't decide to kill him." It would be tragic if the man were to die before they unravelled his mysteries.
"Why would they?" Angeal pointed out, and then grew suspicious at the pause that followed. "Okay, what is it you two aren't telling me about this Strife character?"
"What more can we tell you? We know hardly anything about him," Genesis dismissed casually. Sephiroth spared a moment to allow himself to be mildly impressed by his fellow SOLDIER's acting skills. The endless theatrics were good for something, apparently.
"Oh no. I'm not falling for that. What happened? You don't think I haven't noticed you're keeping secrets? I was going to let it slide, but not if it's something the Turks would want to kill him for." He crossed his arms and pinned them both with a glare, food forgotten.
Sephiroth and Genesis exchanged a laden glance, debating whether or not to cave. It wasn't really a debate – they both knew Angeal wouldn't let them leave until they did, so it really came down to which one would deliver the tale.
Sephiroth could out-stare a basilisk. Battle lost, Genesis stabbed his chopsticks into his rice and scowled. "It may just so happen this Strife character suggested he would return to finish the job."
It took a minute for the words to sink in. Sephiroth counted down in his head. 11, 10, 9, 8…
"He threatened to kill you?" Faster than usual.
"But not Genesis," he added, before Angeal could get carried away. "In fact, he didn't appear to want to fight Genesis at all."
The distraction worked, and Angeal followed the new line of thought instead of focusing on the death threat part. "I thought he fought with Genesis first. On the phone-"
"I will admit that perhaps our altercation was not entirely instigated by him."
Angeal folded his arms and levelled them with his best lecturing face – the same one the Thirds universally quailed at the sight of. "You picked a fight."
"Your food is getting cold," Sephiroth interjected, frowning at the waste. Neither of them appeared to hear him.
"In a manner of speaking. I was within my rights."
Angeal shook his head. "You two. Do you have any idea how many different rules you've broken?"
"We were in the middle of war. The usual ShinRa bureaucracy did not apply," Genesis remarked haughtily.
"So that's why you've been haunting the window? You've been waiting for him to come and kill you?"
"It's the easiest way to find him," Sephiroth pointed out, then paused to chew another mouthful of noodles. Swallowing, he added, "And it's not as though he could succeed. The three of us can take him with minimal casualties."
Angeal threw his hands up in the air. "That's not the point! I leave you two alone for a couple of weeks, you pick up a death threat, from someone can fight Sephiroth to a draw no less, and then want to lure this assassin back to ShinRa headquarters?"
"My Friend, the fates are cruel
There are no dreams, no honour remains.
The arrow has left the bow of the goddess."
"Genesis, shut up."
Sephiroth hid a smile. "You'll help us, then?"
"I don't see why I should. What's so special about this Strife?"
"You'll understand. Just wait until you see his sword," Genesis interjected with a lewd grin.
"Genesis, old friend, I thought I told you to shut up."
It took a great deal of back-and-forth – mostly Cloud haphazardly throwing out arguments and Vincent returning each and every one with an assessing stare – before Cloud convinced his former comrade to help take care of Jenova at the very least. They couldn't reach an agreement on Sephiroth, but the sort of dislike Hojo inspired could bond even the worst of enemies.
A heavy silence hung between them as they approached the reactor. Vincent had been given a lot to mull over, and Cloud was busy fighting down nausea amidst a wash of unpleasant memories. Did normal people get the urge to drop to their knees whenever they remembered something, or did that only apply to people who lost those memories to mako poisoning and genetic information transferral?
"Are you well?"
Cloud pressed a hand to his forehead. His discomfort was so obvious? "Fine."
"Jenova?"
"No. Just this place. Bad memories."
Vincent didn't ask. The former Turk understood the effect of past traumas, thankfully.
The wind whistled through the metal grating outside the reactor entrance, lonely in a sound scape devoid of birdsong or any other signs of life. Most remote mako reactors were unmanned, having been designed to be self-sufficient and insulated from human error. Technicians were called in on a rotational basis to replace parts and perform safety checks, but ShinRa preferred to keep it automated and restrict access as much as possible. Cloud didn't care why, so long as it meant he and Vincent didn't have to worry about being interrupted.
He examined the door critically. Ideally, he would prefer ShinRa to remain unaware of Jenova's destruction for as long as possible, but he needed to break in. Maybe three gouges with his sword, to mimic a dragon's claw?
Before he could draw First Tsurugi, though, Vincent stepped up, golden claw delicately tapping out a combination on the keypad. With a heavy thunk, the door unlocked. "I used to be with the Turks. If memory serves me correctly, this is one of ShinRa's oldest reactors. Fortunately, it appears my code is still active."
Cloud nodded in thanks, and tentatively pushed the door open.
It was dark inside – enough so that even with the faint glow provided by the mako, he fumbled with the breaker to switch on the lights. The bulbs flickered and buzzed angrily to life, roused from sleep after months of disuse.
"There aren't any security cameras?" Vincent asked, voice bouncing unnaturally off the metal walls.
"There are, but ShinRa doesn't have a secure line of communication to them." If they did, there wouldn't have been any need to come investigate the reactor in the first time line. "We'll have to swing by the security post to erase them when we're done."
Vincent's Turk instincts appeased, they headed deeper into the interior. Their steps echoed eerily through the empty facility.
If Nibelheim and the ShinRa Mansion made Cloud's skin crawl, walking through the reactor stole the breath from his lungs. In this place, his destiny had changed in a matter of minutes. In this place, a lowly trooper killed Sephiroth for the first time. In this place, he nearly died… and many times after, wished he did.
"We're just above the core," he murmured, deliberately not looking at the rows of tanks.
Vincent held no such qualms, clearing the condensation from the window of one of the mako tubes and peering inside. "Is this a dumping ground for Hojo's failed experiments?"
Cloud shrugged, keeping his focus on the door at the top of the stairs. "We're failed experiments too, technically."
The former Turk made a small noise of agreement, moving to follow.
There it was. The plain metal door, unremarkable in every way. Any technicians who saw it would probably assume it hid nothing more than an access hatch or wiring. Cloud shivered. "If I start… acting strangely, you know what to do."
Vincent nodded, and laid his flesh hand on his gun. "How do you intend to destroy it?"
He tapped the green materia slotted near the base of First Tsurugi. "A couple of rounds of the strongest fire spell I can manage."
"From the way you spoke, this Jenova sounds quite resilient. Are you sure it will be enough?"
"She's nothing to worry about without a host."
When no further questions came forth, Cloud laid a reverent hand on the door. Here, he'd finally start changing things. The first step in his new journey to save Zack, Aeris, his mother, the planet.
The door shifted under his fingers.
Blinking, he pushed a little harder. With a low groan, the door swung back on its metal hinges.
Unlocked? Hadn't it required special clearance before? Never mind that – hadn't Zack blasted straight through it? Why would he need to, if the door were unlocked?
And now that he thought about it, wasn't the door a little too plain and ordinary? Didn't there use to be some kind of plaque…?
It wasn't until Cloud crossed the threshold that he realised why.
Bright green mako oozed far below. The same rickety walkway hung precariously over thick metal pipes. Everything was an exact replica of his memories, except for the most important detail.
No tank rested on the dais.
Jenova was nowhere to be seen.