Chapter 87 - Another Nightmare
October, 2000
When Sephiroth wakes up in recovery, he takes in the world and thinks that it is the same.
It's quiet and he is alone. The blankets shift as he takes in the softness of the room. The view out the window is familiar, the afternoon sun drifting in. He has requested to be in the same room each time after exposure. It helps to have consistency. He can wake up and know exactly where he is.
When he came back, he was explicit about a few things. It felt uncomfortable but he held the advantage. Mariella had assured him of this. It included things like this room or not seeing Hojo afterward when he was at his weakest. For some reason she was right and these requests have been honored.
He takes a deep breath. A plastic tang still covers his tongue. The edges of the room are hazy and the end of his nerves feel raw. He is too sleepy to worry about it. He searches for the whiteboard and a clock opposite him on the wall. It lists his name, the nurse that is assigned to him, a few scribbles about medications and most importantly the date.
Two days.
Life has skipped forward two full days, one day in the tank and the other unconscious with his mind lost to the world.
The muscles in his back relax as he sinks back and tries to take that in. He went in on a Tuesday and now it is Thursday. The blankness in his mind stretches from his last conscious moments in the mako tank to now. He tries to not think about how he is dressed in a robe and is clean. His arm moves to lay across his stomach. The IV tickles in his skin.
This is expected. Even R&D had warned him that since this was going to be the longest exposure, he should prepare for more time away. He should also expect to sleep much longer than usual. The recovery is lengthy but necessary. The cells of his body are too overwhelmed trying to comprehend what is happening to worry about upper echelon functions like consciousness.
Both Angeal and Genesis knew that he was going to be gone. The apartment was taken care of. His true work was put on hold. Everything was prepared for this but the time feels like a loss.
It is all indistinct in his head. Even the pain of lost time is a dull throb.
His fingers curl and uncurl. He blows out a breath and tries to center himself. When Genesis returned from Wutai this weekend, they were going to celebrate both his recovery and Genesis' assurance that he is better. It is up to Sephiroth to decide how. They had forced it to be his choice. It is a thinly veiled distraction. He tries to focus on the problem anyways. It has to be adequately fun for all of them. The machine next to him hums and clicks. Someone had turned off the beeping.
Worrying about what to do dribbles between his fingers. At some point, he will have to tell them about the implant and then ask them the question that he is afraid to know the answer to. What if they tell him they won't go with him? What if they tell him they will?
It is too soon for that. His mind can't stitch together the correct solutions.
He rolls his head and watches the blue sky outside. All he can do is be patient and wait. His lungs rattle with the effort of his sigh.
He wishes for his phone.
It is in the canvas bag across the room. Every belonging he carries with him, his keys, ID, folded soft clothes, wallet, materia equipped belt and phone, sits on the guest chair out of his reach. Out of everything, he wants the phone. It is off. The battery is preserved but the idea of getting up and retrieving it is beyond him.
Still, he wants to reach out to them. They know where he is but it doesn't matter. He wants to tell them that he is back.
He studies the wrinkles in the bag and wonders who put it there. A tag has been attached to the handle with his name on it.
They will wait for him. They always had. His eyes close on their own. Stillness eases over him and he lets it. Part of him feels at peace at these thoughts. It is a consistency, a rhythm that he counts on. He sighs and allows himself to relax completely. Rest is what his body dictates that it needs.
The drugs are a heavy weight on him. He closes his eyes again and lets it go.
He dreams of blackness.
"I'm sorry Sephiroth. I can't wait any longer."
Sephiroth sucks in a breath and twists on his bed as the words drag him away from sleep. The darkness is pulling off of him. Cotton fills his throat and mouth. His arm is shaking. Someone is holding onto it. They are rocking it against the mattress.
"Sir, give him a minute, the stimulates will bring him around."
The contact stops. Sephiroth's head rolls. He tries to crawl back under. Interaction is the last thing he wants. He is tired.
The words enter his ears regardless if he wants them or not. They are nervous and breathless.
"I don't wait to do this to him but we have to know, you know? I know he needs his rest. Will this hinder his recovery?" Lazard? Why does it sound like Lazard? He is in R&D. The Director of SOLDIER doesn't belong here. He should be shouldering the weight placed on him, including Sephiroth's own immediate duties.
It doesn't make sense. Sephiroth's mind cuts itself loose and spins idly in his head. The pieces don't fit. He shifts again, chasing the darkness. His joints feel stiff. They took him off some of the painkillers.
Another voice closer by speaks. "No and I am sure he will understand. Just know that he will be groggy."
"Of course." An awkward laugh burns in his ears. "It's probably better that way."
He hides in his head a while longer.
"Sephiroth, are you with us?"
Slowly, he has to open his eyes and confront that the Director of SOLDIER is sitting next to his bedside with worry on his face. Pillows are under his back and neck. The bed is slanted upright. In a way, he is sitting since most of his weight is on his hips. The joints are screaming with the pressure. Lazard smiles at him. Sephiroth blinks once. He wonders if he is pale. Everything moves so quickly. The nurse is a blur as she checks over his monitors and Lazard scoots his chair forward.
Sephiroth swallows. He needs to be careful. This has stripped him bare.
He flexes his throat.
"Si-" It cuts off as the sound burns his throat. He winces.
"Good morning. Are you feeling better?" Lazard speaks and his mind jumbles the words together before straightening them out.
"'m awake." This time he manages the whole word. He realizes he hasn't actually answered the question and that this might be too much attitude even for his weariness. It only makes the smile on Lazard's face go bitter.
He doesn't like this. Lazard should only see Sephiroth how he wants to present himself. Instead he is propped up and wrapped up in loose patterned clothes. He should be standing at attention or at a bare minimum wearing underwear. Sephiroth shifts and rolls his eyes across the room. It is Friday now. He's been asleep again. At least he hasn't hallucinated since the exposure. There is enough for his mind to deal with at the moment.
"I know you aren't well, so I am going to ask you this quickly so you can rest. Okay?"
There is too much seriousness in his voice. Sephiroth frowns and finds himself pulling up, trying to get himself to be more awake. Muscles fire from disuse but the sting is worth it as he sits further upright. He nods and squints, trying to read the details that are on Lazard's expression.
"Did you know about Genesis?"
Sephiroth can't help the way that the confusion crosses his face and his mouth runs without him. "What happened to Genesis?"
The burn of talking seems unsubstantial now. This is also not the correct answer. Lazard's remnant of a smile disappears entirely.
"What happened?" He asks again in the pause.
"Did you know he was planning this?" Lazard pushes. "I need you to answer honestly."
Sephiroth blinks at the pure urgency in his voice. Lazard is a relaxed man with easy values and rarely gets emotional. This is not who is sitting in front of him. This Lazard looks like he is willing to strangle him to get his answer. Sephiroth looks around the room, at the Director, at the nurse standing back, at the cloudy sky outside the window and then back at them.
What happened?
He realizes his mouth is open but the words will not come because he does not know what to say. He cannot misspeak here.
"Director," Sephiroth says, "I am not…quite myself. Can you explain what you are asking?"
It is the safest answer and the most honest.
Lazard pauses. A mixture of emotions cross his face. Sephiroth notices he looks exhausted. Deep circles are under his eyes. There is a worn through quality to his body as if sitting in his chair is almost too much for him to bear. His fingers are tight around each other. The suit jacket is wrinkled as if he slept in it.
"Genesis went MIA three days ago. He rebelled and he took half of SOLDIER along."
"That can't be." Sephiroth stares at him and Lazard's eyes don't move from his face.
"It took me a moment as well."
"He wouldn't-"
"He did, Sephiroth," Lazard cuts him off and slams the words into him like a hammer.
Genesis wouldn't do that.
Sephiroth hopes that this is another dream but the details are too crisp. Pain rakes across his chest. Sephiroth's head spins. Air won't stay in his lungs. He looks away, out the window but the room has started blurring again. He is not equipped for this. Genesis' life is SOLDIER. For all his complaints, he is passionate. Even beyond that, he is his friend.
Sephiroth is trapped here.
They both know it.
They wouldn't leave him here alone.
The nurse speaks quietly from his monitor. "Careful, sir. Please."
Lazard ignores her.
His hand connects with Sephiroth's arm.
Now he is being touched.
"And now I need to know," Lazard says with iron, "were you aware of his plans?"
His mind cannot put this together.
He does not want to. This is a dream. Another nightmare. Genesis wouldn't.
Not the man who gave terrible pep talks and somehow berated them at the same time.
I'm sorry too.
The words come back to him then.
Sephiroth's stomach drops.
"No," Sephiroth says and hears how quiet his voice is. "I didn't know."