Chapter 76 - An Order and an Answer
November, 1996
The order sits on his desk a week later.
The paper is a printed copy of an email but Sephiroth likes to hold something tangible. It could be old fashioned or a waste of paper as Genesis says but Sephiroth doesn't care. When it comes to missions that are sent directly from Lazard, he requests that Alvar print them and put them on his desk. The reason is simple. Sephiroth keeps his desk clear. When something sits on it, it means that he has a problem that he needs to address.
The two turned over sheets of paper physically represent it.
Sephiroth has a problem.
He flips over the papers.
They are direct orders from Lazard. Sephiroth expects this. Director of SOLIDER's seal could be seen from the back of the sheet. Alvar's scrawl is under the order, already telling him the adjustments to his schedule. Without a real reason, Sephiroth could not refuse orders. If Alvar was already working on it, it means Sephiroth's life was changing almost immediately. He jumps back up to the top to see what his life will now entail. He is being put on a security detail. He will be accompanying a Shinra employee out of Midgar.
This is unusual and a waste of his time. They know better. This sort of grunt work is for Thirds, if not the standard infantry. The status of the subject could even dictate a Turk presence. A First Class SOLDIER is not needed for something as simple as someone shuttling across the planet to sunbathe. His time is more valuable than that.
His fingers run down the date and time. The details of the mission lay underneath that.
Then it makes sense, slowly but surely, it falls into place.
He presses his hand against the paper. Closing his eyes, he breathes and feels the way the paper slides against the smooth surface of his desk. The office is still quiet so he allows the smile to ease across his face. A warm emotion colors his veins. It has worked. At the end of the day, it worked.
He leaves tomorrow in the morning.
That morning light color's how tightly Mariella Haynes's arms are crossed as she leans against their car. Sephiroth doesn't hurry as he walks towards her with his overnight bag. The sun is streaking over the edges of the plate. The orange coloring stripes in the sky. The parking lot is a spilled mix of oranges and reds. Traffic hasn't even started to disrupt the relative quiet.
Still, she looks like a trap ready to spring.
"I understand punctuality but I expected you early," She says, pushing off the car.
"A First is always on time," he responds evenly. He will be careful. She wants to be around him. She wouldn't have ordered him here on her detail otherwise. He is not going to say anything to make her regret her choice.
She puffs a breath. "By the gods, get in."
Mariella turns around and pulls open the driver's side. The car chirps, a standard nondescript model except for the powerful engine and the bulletproof glass. Sephiroth places his bag in the open trunk forcing himself to not watch her get inside. One bag already sits for her and a locked briefcase is next to it. There are no other SOLDIERs or staff coming. She's requested a detail of one. No one else is necessary.
If they were going somewhere dangerous, she would still only need one. They both know who he is. Even now with as far as he has fallen, Sephiroth has the skills of a killer.
At the end of the day, that is exactly what he is, nothing more, nothing less.
The location itself is classified by R&D but they had told him to pack for mild weather, low danger and a hotel room.
It is good enough for him.
She puts the car in drive as soon as he sits in the passenger side.
"I'll take the first hour to get us out of the city and then we will go on a every two hour rotation. We will be driving all day." Mariella's voice is clipped as she takes them onto a main road.
"You are the one in charge," he says it evenly like how he would talk to a new recruit.
Her eye eases over to him before going back to the road. "You know how to drive."
"Yes. Part of my training and then rarely kept up from there."
"Good. You will be driving straight lines. Let me know if that is too challenging."
She's pushing on him. He takes it. A reactionary response is probably what she wants. She's probably looking for a reason to turn this car around and kick him out. She wants to be wrong. He leans back against the padding of the seat. He doesn't face her. He slides forward in the seat and watches Shinra's garage slip from view from the side mirror.
Her arms are stiff on the wheel. Mariella focuses tightly on what she is doing but her attention keeps ripping away to him.
She is waiting for him to ask the questions. The simple ones that are uncomplicated in facts but heavy with the past. He leans away in the seat, staring ahead, watching the buildings blur as they pick up speed on the highway. He says nothing. Angeal does this. He waits until Sephiroth is ready. Perhaps Sephiroth could do the same. The simple questions would be answered with time. Time that they must have. It is an overnight trip.
So he lets the car lapse into silence and watches Midgar disappear in the rearview mirror.
The day passes. They travel, taking shifts behind the wheel. The desert stretches before them before changing into farmland. The highway cuts straight through it like a rip in fabric. Mariella keeps silent. She works on a laptop while he drives, filling out countless reports and forms. Her mouth works in silent sentences. The task takes her over.
It feels familiar to have her work nearby.
Sometimes he thinks about the child's room. She has not mentioned anything about starting a family but then again, she has been as closed off to him. No physical evidence is there. She has no sign of pregnancy. He's always known her to be career oriented. Would she sacrifice everything for a child?
As she finishes a form and starts another, he realizes that adoption is an option.
That strikes him strangely.
He draws his attention back to the road and tries to leave that thought far behind him on the road. It is not his life.
Sephiroth's work is different, more physical and not possible to do traveling. He is also, in all technicality as they streak past farms and fallow fields, guarding her. So he takes the opportunity to rest and stare out the window. Occasionally, he brings out the book on astronomy that Genesis bought him for his birthday. Someone had gone up to his office and quizzed his personal assistant on his tastes.
He doesn't blame Alvar for giving answers.
Genesis Rhapsodos almost always gets his way.
But currently Genesis is not as Sephiroth's phone buzzes from the car's dash for the twenty-fifth time this hour. Sephiroth glances down at the screen from the wheel.
Stop ignoring me. It is a boring drive on land as flat as your personality. What is HAPPENING?
Sephiroth reaches down and flips the phone over.
"Who is that?" Mariella finally breaks the silence as the phone buzzes again in some indignant version of rejection.
Sephiroth's thumb rolls across the leather of the wheel. "Genesis Rhapsodos."
That breaks a half laugh out of her. "That man is the bane of my existence."
"Mine as well," he says evenly. She half closes the laptop. He tries not to watch her do it.
He tries to think up something to say. Nothing seems appropriate. This might be his chance and he did not expect it to happen over Genesis Rhapsodos.
"I believe there is something worthwhile in him…somewhere." He choses that over saying nothing.
Was it the right thing to say? No. She shakes her head. A flash of frustration rises in him before he shuts it down.
"You've not been with him when he went through his exposures." She frowns. "I have to supervise First ones myself. They are two eight hour intense sessions. It's a delicate balance of medications, body chemistry and mako. Almost impossible. It takes a team of five of us. He kept demanding that this get over more quickly and complained constantly whenever he could. If I could have knocked him unconscious, I would have."
"That is something that you know how to do, surely." He tries to avoid looking at her. He counts the trees that straggle the edge of the road and ignores how his heart beats in his ears. She shifts and sighs next to him.
"Of course. It is a simple science but I can't knock out every single one of my problems."
"No." He responds softly.
She says nothing to that and the conversation dies.
Sephiroth comes up with and scraps every idea he thinks to say. They are sour and unoriginal on his tongue. He can't seem to be trying too hard. This has to be organic. The sound of the engine takes over. Mariella blows out a long breath and closes her eyes. Wrinkles form between her eyebrows.
He drives on, struggling and lost in his thoughts.
She is the one to continue.
Her words break through the quiet. "It doesn't stop Genesis from trying to knock you out or you to him."
He glances at her. She shifts in her seat, addressing him with knowing in her eyes. The laptop is completely closed.
"Ah, you heard about that." His hands curl tighter around the wheel before he forces them open.
"Do you want to tell me what caused him to get that concussion?"
"Masamune."
"Why?" The ghost of a smile is on her face.
He stares ahead, trying not to fixate. "He wants to prove that he is stronger than me so he fights me in the sim. Once he took it too far. He was about to get hurt or perhaps I should say that he was going to get truly hurt. It was a nonlethal strike. I would never hurt a-" He catches the lie. "I would never hurt either one of them."
That drags out into silence.
They both know what he was about to say.
Static drags in Sephiroth's ears as his mind jerks backwards.
Dinand's dead body stretches out before him on the dash of the car.
The body's eyes are dull and useless. It shakes with the car's movements. The sword shards left in his chest catch the light. Blood oozes down into Sephiroth's lap. He swallows but his throat tightens. He blinks away the illusion. There is a shake in his hands. He glances at the clock. If it doesn't go away in ten minutes, he will take a pill.
"Pull over at the next place." The words are sharp and clean from her.
He glances over. "For what?"
"We need to talk, Sephiroth."
"Alright."
They end up at a small rest stop. It's a small building surrounded by picnic benches and an ocean of dead crops. She says nothing as she takes him to the tables. They are alone. The breeze pulls against his hair as he takes in the horizon. The miles stretch out countless in every direction.
It makes him feel free.
"Sephiroth."
Mariella sits waiting for him, her eyes are clear with an intensity that she only gets when she is working. He settles across from her and brushes a leaf off the table. The sun starts to sink. It's late afternoon. He watches the cars drift by on the highway in the distance like toys on a track.
"Let's make a deal," she says, "You tell me something that I want to know and I will do the same for you."
He nods.
"Then we can see where we are."
He doesn't trust himself to speak so he nods again. He tries to arrange himself normally but finds that he sits too straight on the bench.
She presses her hands against the table and then looks back at him. "Did you kill him?"
Everything in him runs sharp and cold.
"I have killed many people in my life, mostly male," Sephiroth says, "it is my job. I bring death. You know the titles they give me."
"You know who I am talking about." It comes out like he is being scolded.
He looks away and studies the field. The dead stalks wave in the breeze. This mistake will haunt him forever. Mariella studies him. Those brown eyes already know the answer. He suspects half the VIPs have guessed but without any proof, they could do nothing. She is asking him and wanting the true answer.
If he says the truth, will he be able to repair this relationship? He curls his fingers around each other. Is that worth it to him?
"Why do you want to know?" He finally responds.
"Because I want to know if he finally got what he deserved. Did you actually do it?"
He traces the wood grain with his finger. There is still a shake in his finger. He brushes away the strands of hair in his face and looks her straight in the eyes.
"Yes."
She leans back and sighs long and whistling. A mixture of pain and relief comes across her. It is odd knowing that the truth that he has held so close to him hangs between them now. It is almost liberating. Sweat forms on his back. This day and excitement is too much for him.
He reaches for the pill pack on his belt but the words are spilling out of him. "I broke his sword and took a piece of it and dug it into his heart. He rots in the ground because of me."
It almost feels righteous. Sitting at this table and saying the truth is so simple compared to the complications of what happened afterward. She puts her elbows on the table and stares at the table. Her hair falls over her shoulder and she looks up at him. Her eyes are vacant in the sunlight.
It takes two tries to break a pill out of the plastic casing.
These words weaken him.
A pill goes into his mouth and he swallows it.
"I killed Dinand. Does that answer your question?"
"Yes. That does." She snaps back into focus but she brushes at her cheeks again. Her fingers come away shining.
Part of him flares up fuming. "I killed another First in cold blood. Why would you be upset? Shouldn't you be mad?"
"No, you killed someone who needed to die. He hurt so many people. He hurt you. He needed to be killed for all the things that he did. I couldn't do anything. Orlin couldn't do anything. You finally did it yourself."
That brings a ripple of pain into him.
"Now what will you do?"
"With what?"
"What I told you."
"With knowing the truth? Nothing." She shrugs, staring out over the field. "I needed that ghost to rest in my head. I needed to know that you set things right."
He swallows, feeling the pill stuck in the back of his throat.
She stands up and looks down at him, a bitter smile on his face. "We're going to see Orlin. I know that's your question and your answer."
Then she's gone, halfway back to the car. He realizes that he is sitting staring at the place where she had been. His heart pounds in his ears. His fingers are weaved together with white knuckles.
Orlin.
That was a name that has drifted fully into memory and grief. He schools himself. Those words were evasive. They are going to see Orlin. That does not necessarily mean that he is alive to greet them.
They could be going to his grave.
Mariella refuses to say more. She just continues to direct them further and further into farm country. The sun starts to set when she finally turns them off the main highway and into gravel roads. She's gone serious and quiet. Her lips are a tight line as she drives them onto the smaller road.
Then she pulls off entirely onto a gravel one.
The sign states something that brings up distant memories. The road is lined with pastures. He straightens as they drive past the first birds grazing in the fields. They couldn't be here. Why would Orlin be here? Part of him still thinks, almost relying on the idea, that Orlin is dead. It is easier that way. The dead could be grieved. The living has to be handled.
"I would ask you if you remember this place but you do," Mariella says as they pull up to the main barn. The car stops. The area is deserted. The sun has almost set. This is their final destination. The sky is painted red. The light on the barn is bright against the oncoming darkness. She lays on the horn before leaving the car. Sephiroth is walking in a dream as he steps out onto the ground.
The smells of the birds, the woods in the distance, the hay and life, everything pulls him back to when he was last here on the first birthday that he could remember.
It's disorientating.
Then the side door for the barn opens.
"You are late today, Miss Punctual."
Sephiroth knows that voice. His body locks in place by the car. His head moves to track the sound but nothing else can be done. What he sees makes moving impossible.
Orlin comes out, regular clothes looking odd against his skin. The SOLDIER walks away from the building towards her. His shoes crunch the gravel. Mariella meets him. Her arm comes out. Orlin drags her into a hug that she pulls out of immediately. Sephiroth's head spins.
He fell asleep in the car. This is a dream.
"I had company to drag me down," She's saying to him.
He laughs. "Another boring Turk? Come on now, we kno-"
The chuckle cuts short as Orlin sees him. Mariella watches them. She fights a smile on her face and worry in her eyes.
This is unreal. Sephiroth takes a step forward and stops. His nails dig into his palm. This man is dead. That is the only reason that he wasn't at Midgar. That is the only reason that anyone is able to leave the army or Shinra. The term "retired" only means one thing. Every record for Orlin states that he is retired. Orlin is dead.
Orlin stands right here. He's breathing. Sephiroth can see his lungs expanding and compressing. In a way, he looks so normal. In another, he looks different but his eyes skate over the differences.
Orlin stands as frozen as Sephiroth but he breaks out of it sooner.
"Kid," Orlin says it quietly.
Sephiroth starts forward. He can't believe what he sees. There is a disconnect between his vision and mind.
Orlin somehow gets closer as Sephiroth walks.
Sephiroth reaches forward to shake his hand. They need to touch. He needs to know that this is real. The words are crammed up in him but none of them matter. Orlin doesn't disappear when he gets closer. His eyes are the same. The shining amusement underneath all the pain that they have been through.
Orlin ignores the handshake.
He closes in on him. He grasps the hand but only to drag Sephiroth forward. His arms wrap around him and they hug him hard. Sephiroth staggers. A real pressure and weight are around him. Orlin is laughing, a broken sound that vibrates against his shoulder. A hand digs against his back. Another lays against his neck and draws him in even closer. The connection is so familiar it stings.
Sephiroth wakes up and holds him back. His fingers press into Orlin's back. Sephiroth doesn't know how to hug but he pressed back. Orlin is right there. He's warm and alive. If he strains, he can hear the heartbeat thudding in his chest.
Emotions mix together in him and threaten to take him over.
It doesn't matter. None of it matters.
A sob rises in his throat but he controls it and pushes it down.
Orlin pulls back with a more self conscious laugh, hands kept on his arms, inspecting him. "When did you get older?"
Sephiroth smiles quietly. He doesn't know how to put this relief into words.
"I really thought you'd never understand. I thought you'd never come," Orlin says. His eyes search Sephiroth's face before he slaps his shoulder. "I like being wrong. You've always done that."
"I didn't tell him yet."
Mariella appears from the side.
"He doesn't know?" That drops the smile from Orlin's face as he glances at her and then back at him. "Oh. You don't know."
The warmth that Sephiroth feels evaporates off him.
"What?"
Things come into sharp contrast. The joy of just seeing Orlin fades off him like a cloud. The SOLDIER has lost weight. The reliable muscle mass that has always been there is gone. Wrinkles are forming around his face. A stripe of gray works through his hair.
A fragility settles over him.
His stomach turns.
"Sephiroth," Orlin says and the grip tightens on his arms. "I'm dying."