Chapter 44 - Finding the Hero of Midgar

March, 1991

Sephiroth ends up missing a week of his life.

It all stops. All his appointments, his obligations, everything that has driven him dissipates without another thought. He should feel useless in the R&D hospital bed but he doesn't. Instead, he is tired in a way that cannot be cured. His shoulders, his sides, his legs, his head, everything aches.

The doctors and Mariella don't need to force him to stay in bed the first few days. He rotates from side to side and falls into blackness over and over. It is easier than staying awake. Only when they insist does he get up on wobbly legs. A headache pushes incessantly. He should worry about Dinand. He should be on his guard. The SOLDIER might rebel. He could even come to punish him but being afraid is out of the spectrum of his emotions.

Numbness has seeped in everywhere.

He can't feel anything.

Physically, the doctors report cuts, bruises and a few points of internal hemorrhaging still. It is useless to him. He doesn't care what they think is wrong with him. He can't go anymore. There is no will to push forward. The words on the screens say things like severe fatigue and one doctor wrote openly more withdrawn than usual, if that is possible.

Sephiroth closes his eyes. He's stripped of everything. He is just a seventeen year old kid again. He isn't the Sephiroth that he sees on the posters that is older and more confident. He's not the kid at school that was bullied for years until he struck back. He's not even the child that is in the journal tucked between two pairs of pants in his drawer. This Sephiroth is a ball of raw ends and tangles left out to dry with no other purpose than to rest.

Nights are when things get the hardest.

Sometimes he wakes up in the night in apparent panic, sweaty and pointless. He needs to fight but there is nothing to fight. The drugs he is on messes with the drugs that handle his autoimmune reaction. He hallucinates a naked woman when he opens his eyes at night. These days she is solid and real. She inches towards him in the night. Her feet make wet sounds as she places them. She's whispering nonsense, silver floating behind her head. She never makes it to him before morning. Her fingers are always drifting a few feet away.

He tries to disregard her but the hallucination crawls under his skin. After all these years, he should be used to her.

The R&D department is patient but two days later the IV line comes out and they usher him back to his bedroom. Dinand has reported to his new station directly helping prepare for the war efforts. He is not fired. If he is reprimanded for what he's done, it is done behind closed doors. Sephiroth should be angry but the relief of knowing that man is far away is too great for that. The stress that has become the bedrock of his life melts and leaves holes that he's not sure how to fill. He's been running on high for so long.

Healing the substantial wounds were the final nail in the coffin, he is sure of it. If he hadn't healed himself, he wouldn't be this drained. The cost had been high but they will never know how far Dinand's fingers got into him.

The luxury of naps does not wear off even in his own bedroom. He spends half his day in a drowsy state before he starts to feel like he wants to do something. He's weak. Walking takes effort and he can't concentrate for very long. He pulls the Ancients book from his desk and reads through it when he can't sleep. The Promised Lands sound like such a fantasy.

But they could hear the planet.

What must that be like?

What must it sound like?

Did it sound beautiful?

Or like one long sustained scream?

When he couldn't read, he would lay in bed and try to imagine it.

The unproductivity of following his own interests crawls under his skin. The book closes.

So homework is a distraction. A good one.

He drags his laptop onto his lap and opens it. Notifications break up his quiet room. He's missed thirty-three PR events. Sephiroth feels himself smile. Clarence must have had a meltdown somewhere below him at HQ. He doesn't even bother to look at his Shinra employee email account.

That will happen another day.

Instead, he starts on his school email and figuring out how much ground he has lost. It is much easier to make a list of academic assignments than to dwell on how he's been struggling to look Mariella in the eyes. He knows that she thinks he should have done something earlier. He should be alone in this misery but instead everyone can observe it. Even with Mariella telling him that it wasn't his fault, he should have been better, more aware, more anything. He shouldn't have been this weak.

Bedrest lasts four more prescribed days. Graduation is roughly a month and a half away. He's been struggling to keep up with his assignments but now he has all this quiet time. His mind starts to wonder if it might be possible to complete some classes if he tried. He sighs as he starts to type out the emails to his teachers. Would it be possible? Would he even want to try?

A goal. Something that he personally wants in this small section of his own life. It moves something in him. He wants to try. It gives him something to think about. The teachers already work with him with his schedule. He's taken several tests before his fellow classmates because he's had interviews on the date of the test. They might give him the lesson plans of the year.

Mariella visits him and the door opening makes his stomach jerk. Quick movements have been doing that to him lately. He needs to find a way past that. He has barely left his room, finding comfort in how nothing moved.

Mariella has found her own new level of exhaustion. Because of Sephiroth and the PR campaign, the SOLDIER program has been blossoming. The Wutai war is coming so quickly that Shinra is sending men into the program with no regard to their staffing numbers. New problems keep coming but she makes time to be the primary doctor with Sephiroth. He answers her health related questions and she checks his vitals. She's keeping a distance between them. No more hugs or soft touches. She remembered herself.

Sephiroth tries to pretend to be normal but doesn't know what that is like anymore. Shame heats him from the inside out. If the acting works or not, she doesn't say and promises to come back later.

The lesson plans come in and Sephiroth groans after he makes the lists of all the homework that will be due. His breath comes out of him and the laptop goes on his bedside table. He shuts off the lights. It is possible. He hates that because now he must try.

The weather has changed by the time that Sephiroth walks to the park after his second week back at school. Warmth has taken over the breeze and now he can see the green shoots of plants growing. His shoes catch on a brick and he catches himself as he falls forward. He was up until somewhere close to five in the morning. At that point, the time itself seemed insignificant. It was too late for him to be up but if he got his sociology paper written, he could edit it after school and then only three more papers would stand between him and graduating.

The sky is going purple. He stayed late to take his history final. He thinks it went well but there is a period in the middle of that test that his memory becomes blurry on. If he was sleeping full nights, eating and not trying to do what he can, he would have remembered it. He hopes that he got it right. Between school and SOLDIER, his brain has stopped distinguishing what has happened and what is yet to happen.

Forces are moving quickly on both sides of the planet's board game. Wutai is summoning huge numbers. Shinra is throwing their weight behind science and technology. The date has not been set. Everyone is waiting for someone to take the first step. Active duty is coming rapidly his way. That worms fear into him but he doesn't have the energy to sustain it. He would worry about that once that happened.

He stares at the sidewalk and tries to order his thoughts. If the homework is done, he will still be able to graduate and walk across the stage even if his days are full of SOLDIER. Shinra would write up the paperwork explaining his absence. Not that it is really needed, the media would be on him in a heartbeat. As long as he can keep it together, he should still graduate with Latin honors.

His mind is sludge in a dream. Trying to participate in class is difficult. Deja vu takes over strongly as the teacher goes over concepts that he crammed days ago. He's afraid to say something that they haven't gone over yet.

"So I was pretty pissed when you didn't show up for dinner," Rafi's voice breaks through to him. He pauses and looks ahead.

Rafi stands next to the bench that he promised to meet her at. A smile tugs at her face but she's got her arms crossed. The blue jacket that she is wearing is so patterned that his eyes get lost in it immediately. The exhaustion is there but he feels himself step out from under it as he goes to her.

She doesn't move towards him. She's not a hugger but there is concern on her face.

This is the first opportunity in months that they have seen each other.

"I told my dad that you must have died to not make it," she says softly, "I'm really sorry that I said that."

"Don't worry about it." He's not sure he completely comprehends what she said but hurries on to get to something familiar. "How are you?"

"Wutai is moving troops but you of all people know that. People are getting really concerned. They announced the music awards. The Divas won everything. Dad broke his middle toe by dropping a box of books on it. There isn't anything to do so he's just grumpy all the time. I ate cold fried chicken and was surprised at how good it tasted."

He nods. The late evening crowd moves behind him. He can hear heels and dresses on the sidewalk. The theater nearby must be opening for the evening performance. It might be Loveless. Silence stretches out between the two of them. Rafi shifts her weight from side to side.

He watches and realizes that it must be his turn to say something.

"Sorry for missing dinner."

"You were busy dying. It's a good excuse." She shrugs.

That sends a weary half smile across his face.

"At least Mariella texted me what was happening." She walks over. "I'll walk you back to HQ. I know that you don't have that much time."

He swallows. "Thanks."

Mariella had already told him that she was the one that had talked to Rafi. At some point, Rafi had memorized the emergency number on his wristband and had called it when he hadn't shown up. Of course she had. She is nosy enough to do such a thing. Rafi had texted him that she had done it and explained that she had written down the number "just in case you collapsed in the bookstore or something."

It feels strange to have someone care like that.

"You are such a nerd. Wanting to finish school early. Who does that?" She says as they rejoin the crowd. Sephiroth puts his hands in his pockets.

"I might be called for active duty soon."

That makes her pause. "No shit. Really? Like tomorrow soon?"

A business man glares at her as she stops short. He sidesteps her and Sephiroth half turns back. "I hope not. Like you said, the war is getting serious. I want to graduate first."

"What will happen? Will you leave Midgar?" She starts to walk again but now she's searching his face like it is going to give her the answers that she needs.

"I have a little autonomy over my schedule now but once they call me in, I won't have that," he says trying to make his voice sound relaxed, "so I don't know. I'll stay here through graduation so I can earn my degree but after that…I don't know. I assume I'll be off to the Wutai border or West Corel where most of the preparations are taking place."

She tucks up close by his side as they work through more theater guests. He hears her breath out slowly at his words. He glances over and realizes this is the first time that he has seen Rafi in months. She looks the same if not a little tired. There is something different about her face. He tries to spot what is catching his attention. Her eyes are bigger than usual as she looks at everything besides him. It's not physically possible.

"Are you wearing makeup?" He asks.

She misses a step. "Yeah. I was bored so I put some on. Plus I get to see the great Sephiroth, so you know."

Bitterness comes into his throat. Shinra has been building this wall around him. He's special. He's the great Sephiroth. He's a war hero that's never fought a battle. He's young and beautiful. He's everything when he is none of those things. Now it even affects Rafi.

"I'm just me. Nothing has changed."

Her eyes flash up to him. "You wear stupid hats now."

"Yes. I don't get recognized as easily." He wishes for the sword on his back. He's gotten accustomed to wearing it all the time outside of school. The weight grounds him. The steel is his power if he needs it. Dinand is halfway across the world but he still never wants feel like that again.

"If I take it off, I'll be recognized in a few minutes." He sighs. "We don't need that."

"I want to make that bet."

Sephiroth raises an eyebrow. "You want…?"

"I want to see Shinra's Sephiroth in action. You are wearing fancy clothes too." It's odd, almost a jab, as a smile comes across her face.

"No, Rafi. I'm too tired for that." As the words come out of him, he deflates again. The exhaustion comes back and hangs on his shoulders like weights. He was hoping this would be normal but nothing about this is. Nothing is anymore.

"Hey." Rafi grabs his arm and drags him out of the main thoroughfare.

He jumps and almost jerks back before stopping himself. The connection is a livewire in his head. He is being touched. Someone else is moving him. He's not in control. He's stronger than her, he reminds himself, he's fine. She's not going to hurt him. He can pull away at any time. Rafi is too busy navigating the crowd to see him try to relax into this.

She stops them in front of a glass display of jeweled dresses.

"Are you okay? Like for real?" Rafi shifts to look at him directly. The hand smooths to a soft touch on his arm.

"I'm just tired." He is cold in this heat. He doesn't want to deal with this. The rawness still floats unhindered within him. Only through the strength of what is left and what Shinra requires of him has he able to go on. He thought that the emotions would go away. They've only gotten worse as he ignored them. He swallows as the grip tightens again.

"What happened? Mariella says it was a training accident but you aren't acting like this was an accident."

He writhes inside. "It was just that, I got hurt doing a training accident. I am cleared from R&D."

"You've been training for years. Nothing like this has happened before." She's pushing, almost shoving, against what remains of his self control. He can feel his cheeks warming.

"I've seen the bruises, Seph. Training 'accidents' have been happening for years. What happened? Come on, I'm actually really worried," She whispers, "Tell me so I can help you."

Sephiroth feels himself slip.

Bodies are piled around them. He sees the Wutai soldiers from the sim and their dying faces. Pain clicks on, lighting up most of his body in a horrific throb. Colors disappear. Everything is red again. His heart beats quickly. Sweat pricks under his armpits. The world spins and blurs into this unreality. The blood pools across the fancy brick underfoot. It seams into the cracks pretending to be mortar. The dress models are draped with more bodies, the white dresses now rusty.

It's real. He's still in the sim fighting for his life. He's killed all of them.

He hurts again.

"I-I-I…" He stutters. His eyes wide.

There are more coming. They will hurt him again. They won't stop-

"Yeah?"

The question breaks the illusion.

The bodies aren't there. The blood is gone. It is in the past. It's all stopped. He is strong. Sephiroth is a SOLDIER. He is First Class. His memory is nothing compared to his body.

"Thank you for the concern," He says clinically, "but it was a bad training accident. Nothing more."

The hand leaves his arm. Disappointment rolls across her before it catches into something more fiery.

"Yeah, of course, whatever." Bitterness colors every word.

"That is the truth."

She steps back. "I thought we were better friends than that."

Now Sephiroth is the one to step closer. "I don't understand."

"If you ever feel like you want to stop lying to me, just let me know? 'kay?" She snaps.

"I didn-"

"You did. You just did. Come on. Don't be fake, Sephiroth." She reaches forward, towards his head. He moves without thinking. The grip on her wrist is bruising. Rafi's eyes go wide. Her fingers remain half curled between them. It wasn't a slap. That would come at an angle. This is something much softer.

Her other hand comes up and this time it makes it to the original location. It brushes his cheek and lingers there. She's warm and he can feel where her fingers touch the beginnings of his stubble. The other one joins the first one on the other side with his hand still attached. His medical bracelet falls down his arm, cutting into his forearm.

She holds his face and stares into him. He freezes. It's a real connection. It's not like the plastic covered fingers that have been on him for months.

"What happened to you?" She asks one more time firmly.

It all wants to pour out.

He wants to tell her everything right then and there. She's been there for years. They've laughed at things. She's shed tears across the table from him when assignments have gone wrong. She would listen but how can he even describe what it has been like? How can he tell her without her judging him? The embarrassment rides up inside him. Everything gridlocks. He fights it but the pain increases even more.

He stands there trapped and struggling.

Rafi's eyes tell him she has made her decision as his silence stretches out.

The warmth in her eyes locks away.

The fingers push up and snag the corner of his soft hat. He flinches. The hat is pulled off and falls to the ground. White hair, his damn worshiped white hair, flops over his eyes. Coldness covers her over as she runs her hand through it, roughly styling it.

"There he is," she says finally, "the hero of Midgar in all his glory."

He lets her wrist go easily as she steps back. "Let me know if the Sephiroth I know wants to come back. I can help him. I can't help this."

Then she's gone.

And it isn't even a minute later that the rest of Midgar finds their hero.