Chapter 86 - Duty of a SOLDIER

September, 2000

Just a scrape.

He had said it was just a scrape.

And Sephiroth had believed him.

They had all been mauled, limbs hanging, the core of their organs pierced by obstructions, arteries nicked, bodies barely functioning, the duty of a SOLDIER shouldered. A gash, the shoulder clearly still operational, would be nothing. Besides that, Genesis' skills lay in casting. He specializes in offensive attacks but it is intimately known that Genesis has skills in healing.

Of course, Sephiroth feels bad for the injury but Genesis had brought it on himself.

Sephiroth's worries hadn't extended beyond the beratement from Angeal that he should be more careful. That they are all responsible for each other. Honor dictates this stronger than anything else. When they are this close to each other, it is their job to support each other through hard times, even Genesis dramatics, because their emotions are worth addressing.

It is funny to him how Angeal can put into words the things that he feels.

It was a scrape.

Even Angeal had agreed at the end of their discussion that perhaps it would knock a little sense into Genesis.

They had agreed.

It was just one scrape.

Both of them are experienced fighters. They had dealt with injured SOLDIERs on the battlefield. They knew what true life changing injury looks like. Angeal is even more sensitive and cautious than him, taking more into account the emotional wellbeing of the man. Searching back through his memory, neither of them were even slightly concerned.

Then why was this happening?

Genesis is admitted to R&D the day after their fight when he didn't report for duty. He was found passed out in his apartment. Angeal had been here and told Sephiroth afterward. He had been in a meeting with Lazard and had come back to those messages that meant things that couldn't be true. It snowballed from there, Genesis falling quickly from R&D's general unit to critical care to intensive care. They hovered outside locked doors at night.

The texts that Genesis sent before his phone died were vague.

Just that the wound wasn't healing and that it was "one son of a bitch."

Then they heard he was being moved to intensive care.

And the phone stopped receiving messages.

The doctors wouldn't let them in. Sephiroth had been in intensive care three times but he hadn't been conscious going in and was barely aware coming out. They couldn't break in and the staff refused to let them in further.

Until Angeal is an acceptable donor and Sephiroth isn't.

Until Sephiroth is alone in the hallway, useless. The shake in his hands isn't from his sickness.

It is a morbid curiosity how life marches on in a way that cannot be denied. Genesis is recovering and conscious when Sephiroth sinks back into his first mako tank in more than a year. He hates how right it feels. How the alien warmth embraces the back of his mind. It soaks into him.

Hojo is there but he seems to know better than to push his luck. Sephiroth doesn't speak to him and Hojo remains in the background. The attendants do the work, setting him up, priming the lines, attaching the sensors, helping him relax when they hook him up to oxygen.

The eyes from the shadows watch him every step of the way.

The mako sings in him like a sad lullaby. The machine forces him to take a breath and tastes the artificiality of the air. The water drags against his skin like silk covered fingers. Already his eyes dip. The embrace is warm when everything has been so cold and uncontrolled. Something is wrong with Genesis. He jerks and grasps trying to hold onto that thought. Opening his eyes shows that they have already gone oversensitive to light.

Genesis is sick.

His heart beats in his throat.

Then something catches his attention.

She's there in the room with them.

This time the naked woman is aware.

Hojo has crept up to the tank as Sephiroth's defenses have fallen, his eyes crawling over the details of his body. Sephiroth's stomach twitches under the attention. There is nowhere to hide. He is encased in the glass like one of the animals behind Hojo's desk. A few teeth show between the professor's lips. He knows. Sephiroth's feelings are transparent as a slide under a microscope.

But the woman stands behind Hojo.

No. Sephiroth blinks and tries to fight the mako's sleep.

The woman is embracing Hojo from behind. Her arms, pale and skinny, are draped over his shoulders. She tucks her face next to his, her lips whispering wordless things in Hojo's ear. She keeps her eyes on Sephiroth, looking up at him through heavy eyelashes. Her lips curl up as he stares on. If Hojo notices, he does nothing. His shirt stains dark with water. Liquid drops off her draped fingers onto his shoes.

For the first time, she emotes.

She stands taller and shifts. A smile, something close to pride, twists onto her face. Her right hand leaves his shoulder and it drags through the top of Hojo's hair.

He's frozen, Sephiroth realizes. They all are.

Her hand digs into his hair, dividing it into parts. The other reaches up and cradles the spot where Hojo's chin meets his neck. He remains still studying Sephiroth. They are thrown in the green light of his tank, making her white fingers sickly. Sephiroth can't move. Everything is too heavy.

The wings appear, still broken. The feathers fall like snow as she stretches them across the room.

She bares her teeth. Perfect skin curls into wrinkles and lines. The aggression is wild in her. He expects fangs but only finds normal teeth in her anger. She rises, the wings rising, the fingers digging, pressing deep into the skin of Hojo's throat. Muscles appear in her shoulders as she tenses like a spring.

She jerks forward, snapping Hojo's neck in front of him. Sephiroth doesn't hear the break. He feels it in himself, the elastic way that a body fights back before it shatters, the lenient tear of muscles and the lattice work of something alive rippling in shock against his own hand.

Her fingers draw lines of blood tracing his skin and decorating the floor.

Hojo's body hangs limp in them.

The back of the glass connects hard with Sephiroth's head in a thunk.

Hojo is chuckling.

Sephiroth chokes on the air fed into him. He's thrown himself back. He needs to defend. His eyes struggle to focus. The room is normal again. The monster is gone. The fear crawling up in him is an illusion. He is surrounded by mako again. The struggle crests his self control and he twists, limbs tangled. A hand rises, half trying to make it to his own throat. The other rises to protect his stinging eyes. Neither make it, dragged back by the mako.

"Sir. He is-"

Hojo waves a hand, the grin appearing. "Don't worry. Our dear little Sephiroth just had a nightmare. He will calm, there is too much sedative in him."

A nightmare.

A childish word but something that he could hold onto. It was no more than a dream.

He tries to remember that but it is hard as he spirals downward, unspooling as he goes back into the darkness.

Mariella is there in the recovery room when he wakes up again. He just has to get through the exposures, she reminds him in whispers. He can be cut free from all of this. There are only a handful of sessions and tests left. After that, the true nightmare will be at an end.

Genesis Rhapsodos actively avoids him for a few days.

He is mad at him. That Sephiroth is sure of. It must be the cut. Angeal's smile is soft as Sephiroth asks him what is wrong. The only answer that he gets is that Genesis is tired and to try to be gentle around him. The weekend comes and nothing happens. No one proposes plans. He stares at the phone screen and tries to think of something adequate. For all the social skills that he has learned, this is something that he does know how to do, to comfort someone else.

The weekend drifts on.

Sephiroth is holding his breath. They both are. Genesis' door stays closed. The messages sent to him remain unread. He's been released. Angeal visited him the first night. Sephiroth didn't go. One person was enough and what could Sephiroth say that would be correct? He barely knows how to make conversation. He would choke and embarrass himself. He would say the wrong things. He would make Genesis more angry.

Yet, time continues to move and nothing happens.

The recent mako exposure is affecting him. There is a jumpiness in his mind that cannot be settled. He keeps seeing his nightmare when he least expects it. She hovers. She starts to move. She has yet to touch another person again but it does not make him forget what he saw.

It's making him sensitive and he knows it. He needs to know that Genesis is okay. It's the attachment that has sunk too far into him to detach. He has to know that no damage has been done that will not be repaired. Sephiroth cannot live with that unknown and R&D at the same time.

He sits on his couch, weaves his fingers and tries to think through the best course of action.

He decides.

The minute that Genesis opens up his door, Sephiroth knows he has made a mistake.

"Fucking hell, you aren't my food delivery," Genesis snaps.

Sephiroth opens his mouth, readying the words he prepared.

Genesis leans against the door and cuts him off before he can continue. "Go back to your apartment, Sephiroth. I really don't want to see you right now."

He's never seen Genesis so exhausted. There are rings under his eyes and he is slumped against the door frame. A housecoat is pulled around him and his fingers dig through the cloth as he crosses his arms. Even leaning, he favors the damaged shoulder. Stiffness weaves from the spot as he constantly adjusts that side. His eyes are wary as if Sephiroth might do something that he doesn't want.

"I will not take up too much of your time," he says and pauses. "I wanted to apologize-"

"You? Apologize? By the goddess, I must really be dying or high on painkillers or both." Genesis laughs and his fingers tighten on his arms.

That takes Sephiroth's breath away.

"I-" He stops.

"Go on." Genesis straightens and mocks him. The wariness is turning into something uglier, something more fearsome.

Sephiroth can't. He doesn't know what to say. This is beyond him. There is no Angeal between them. The ground is being pulled out from him. There is a switch in Genesis. They've seen it before. Angeal calls it his temper. It is getting dangerously close to being switched.

A stutter falls from him.

Genesis waves a hand and talks like he is a child. "You started 'I wanted to apologize.' For what? What could you possibly need to apologize for?"

"I-"

"No. You, Sephiroth." Genesis pushes off the wall and stalks forward. "You are fucking perfect."

Sephiroth yields, backing up, almost stumbling.

"Genesis-"

"'Genesis' what? You aren't the one that everyone idolizes? Who do I see on every poster? Every SOLDIER sign?"

Sephiroth is too caught off guard to be defensive. He raises his hands and hopes to show that he won't hurt him further. The aggression is high and dark in his eyes. Genesis hasn't done this in years and keeps driving him back. Sephiroth keeps giving him the ground.

"No I-" Heat is rising in his face. He can barely think. This is too much input. The tension electrifies his back.

Genesis is relentless. "Oh no. You don't need to say anything."

"That is not the case-" Sephiroth has to swerve to not hit the opposite wall. He's losing and it isn't all physical. He cannot get ahead of this conversation. His heart beats high in his throat as he tries to find the right words to say and they fall through his fingers.

"Fight me then. Prove it. Show me that you are willing to be like the rest of us. Dirty and human and ready to fight for something."

Sephiroth stops in his tracks and says the first thing that comes to mind. "You are in your robe."

"Haven't you ever just wanted to be free of all the bullshit?" Genesis snaps the question and halts, caught off guard by his own question. Sephiroth can see pain under it.

They wait. Sephiroth watches the anger in front of him burn.

"Gen…this life…it isn't easy," Sephiroth says and feels the admittance dredging up his own years of suffering, "I'm sorry that you are feeling this powerful emotion." He locks eyes with him and hopes he understands that he knows what Genesis might be going through.

Genesis growls.

"You are pandering. You are giving me sympathy. I see it and I don't fucking want it. Get out of my face." Genesis lashes out, fist raised to connect with his stomach.

Sephiroth doesn't think. It is not a conscious action to grab his friend's wrists. It is not him that reacts. It is training that uses Genesis' momentum. Hands and and feet move in a dance he already knows. The First slams face first into the wall. The dull thud rings in his ears as Genesis connects. The air drives out of him in a puff. He bounces back into Sephiroth's arms.

The hands are ready for him.

The Firsts fall forward together. The wall meets Genesis again but this time he is trapped. Sephiroth closes the space between them, pressing his body hard against his back. It minimizes the threat and locks them together.

Genesis squirms once but his hands are pinned high on his shoulder blades behind him.

Sephiroth discovers that he is the one holding them tight. He finds his other hand is locked around his neck, teasing his throat.

Genesis pants hard as they stand pressed together against the wall. Sephiroth keeps himself ready, knowing that this couldn't be the end. Genesis wouldn't stand for this. He adjusts weight. A kick back towards his groin or knees are Genesis' best bet. Bucking backwards wouldn't get him much. Dropping down is another option. Sephiroth takes a long breath and readies himself to the second half of this fight. Lemons and chemicals lace his tongue. They are still entrenched on Genesis from the labs.

"Gen."

That makes Genesis shudder. Sephiroth is forced to realize just how close they are. His mind notes how warm the space is, how solid and strong Genesis feels and how it might be to run his fingers down that back. He forces those thoughts away. Never. This is not who they are to each other.

Sephiroth readies himself. Genesis won't give up this easily. He is fire and anger.

Yet the fight drains out of Genesis. Sephiroth can feel it go. His body sags against his grip. Sephiroth has to move his hand from his neck to take his weight under his arms or let him fall. Genesis closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the wall. This close Sephiroth can feel how hard he has started trembling.

"I am your friend," Sephiroth says firmly, "I will never fight you. I am not a threat. I am your friend."

He pushes him against the wall again to drive the point. If Genesis needs physicality, he will get it.

Genesis lets out a grunt and winces. He gets his hands back but they fall to his side and do nothing. Sephiroth steadies him more by gripping his good shoulder. He is still shaking. They stay together a moment longer with Sephiroth supporting him.

"You really promise that?" Genesis eyes him but his voice is quiet.

"I do."

Genesis twists around slowly until he is pressing his back against the wall. Sephiroth's hands skate his body. Part of him is unwilling to let him go. His eyes look lost as he takes him in. When did the edges of Genesis' face go gray? The color is gone after the anger melts away. He studies him and Sephiroth waits, filling in with a solidity and confidence that he is looking for.

Something has broken. Sephiroth knows it. Something has changed in a way that has hurt him.

"I promise," Sephiroth says again.

Loss overwhelms his face and Genesis presses forward, drawing his arms around Sephiroth's middle.

It's a hug.

Genesis Rhapsodos has never hugged him and now he is clinging to him, fingers digging into his back and face buried in his shirt.

This means something. It is heavy with something that is coded in another language. Sephiroth arranges himself, trying to reciprocate and being careful of his shoulder injury. Genesis makes no noise. He doesn't react. He holds tight against him and breathes warm air against his skin. Sephiroth allows the contact as long as he can until it vibrates against his skin with needles

Sephiroth lets him go and steps back. The formality fills him. "I am sorry to have injured you. It was never my intention. I will leave you to rest."

He turns before he can get a response. He doesn't want one. He doesn't need one. It is all a mistake. He had just pinned Genesis against a wall and then Genesis hugged him without Sephiroth being able to say a word. That hardly seemed like something a friend would do. His mind spins. He needs to remove himself from this situation. He needs to collect his thoughts. He needs to talk to Angeal. He would know what to do.

He walks away, trying to clear his head.

"Seph."

Sephiroth looks back. Genesis had rolled off his bad shoulder and leans heavily against the good one against the wall to watch him go.

He swallows.

"I'm sorry…too."