Chapter 96: Obligation
June, 2001
It is obligation that wakes him in the morning.
It is exhaustion that tucks him into bed in the evening.
The new Director of SOLDIER works tirelessly. Life carries him forward if he wants it to or not. He takes meetings. He solves problems. He walks the paths that have been carved into his life. His shoes take him from his apartment to work and then when the time is appropriate, back to the apartment.
He can't remember any of it.
He is a disgrace because Sephiroth pretends. He acts smooth and calm because that is what he has been trained to do his entire life. These habits prop him up like strings on a puppet. He doesn't know how to do otherwise. He leads and acts strong when he continues to feel his resolve crumble. If anyone cared to look, they would see it behind the smoothness of his actions. When he catches himself in a mirror, his eyes are empty. They don't echo out what used to be inside him. There are too many cracks. What he was has slipped out from his grasp.
No one tries to restore what has been stolen away from him.
He's waiting and locked in a stasis. Mariella works in the background, pulled away from him. A few broken messages have come from her. Nonstop exposures and pressures to perfect the science have her locked away in the labs. Yet, her promises that she is still "working" feels as flimsy as any promise he has been given.
They circle each other on two different sides of the same machine.
The only exception is when she pulls him aside to tell him about the data loss. During the attack on HQ, someone had tried to access all their information on degradation. It makes sense to him. Genesis' and Angeal's degradation is a problem that Hollander wishes to solve.
Mariella's eyes had been tired but her mouth twisted into a smile as she told him that when that unauthorized entry happened, the system entered a failsafe state. The data hadn't been accessed but when Shinra tried to get it back, the system's files were corrupted. Negligent backups were too old to be useful. Years of research were gone.
The eventual cures for degradation were lost at the press of a button.
She wanted him to know because the news would reach him eventually. He shouldn't worry about himself. She pulled a worn notebook and an attached flashdrive from her bag.
"I would never put my information on the server. Not about you," she said with the confidence of someone who saw this coming.
He stared at the wrinkled red cover and the pages rippling with ink inside. The key to his freedom was right there.
"Just hold on."
What other choice does he have? Life has changed so many times so rapidly. Nothing is up to him. He doesn't get any real choice in the matter. Instead as Director, he focuses on what he can do.
Zack Fair is kept far away from him, constantly away on missions.
Sephiroth wants to be angry at Zack. He wants to blame him for their deaths. It would be easy but he can't do it. Angeal's teachings about empathy are sewn too heavily into him. The young man haunts his own life like a ghost. They both know this same loss. Sephiroth can remember how fond Angeal was of Zack. The words of encouragement and kindness are spread on Zack like a blanket.
It wasn't the kid's fault at the end of the day.
That responsibility sits on the shoulders of Angeal himself and the president of the company that still dictates his life.
Probably Sephiroth should have gone to Zack. He should have said these words and tried to guide the man through the unfamiliarity of expectations unyielding to emotions. He should have done his best. This is what Angeal would have wanted. They are in this together now. There is no stopping it. They are the two remaining Firsts in Shinra. Sephiroth is the older of the two of them, somehow the better.
Being a role model is expected of him.
Sephiroth can't do it, not this time, not truly.
It's selfish how much he hurts. Curling away from the grief stricken but friendly Zack Fair, not forcing himself to try to open up to another person, it is not what they would have wanted. They aren't here to help him make that transition.
The window of opportunity closes.
Zack is friendly towards him but he will never break into his heart like they did.
A glimmer of something comes into focus. Mariella asks him to come along with him to see Orlin. He's requested a visit and she's forced the department to let her go. It takes effort to distribute his role for the two days he will be gone. He will have to be on call. When he sees Reno in a hallway, the man rolls his eyes at him and mutters "farm boy" under his breath.
The Turks needs to organize their own travel if they are going to tail him. Sephiroth won't make this trip a secret but he won't help them either.
Sephiroth walks the path set before him until it is the day that he is set to leave.
Two days for him to get some space from everything. It is a fantasy, something he needs.
Until Tseng stands in front of him and halts him in his tracks.
"I'm sorry, Sephiroth," Tseng says and his eyes are hard. "You are not allowed."
Sephiroth stops with his overnight bag just outside the parking lot that he was supposed to meet Mariella in. Instead Tseng blocks the door, his eyes watching him carefully. He looks unarmed as he clasps his hands behind him. It is hardly the truth. He is tense, all straight lines and ready for Sephiroth to move into action.
Sephiroth is sure there is backup hovering somewhere.
"Not allowed to go? This is a SOLDIER mission. I am the Director of SOLDIER," Sephiroth says. He keeps his emotions locked neutral. He will be able to talk his way out of this. He is the Director now. The Turks and SOLDIER cannot block each other like this. He moves forward and Tseng remains motionless.
Tseng's chin rises. He fills his lungs with air and stands his ground.
"You are not aware of your current restrictions so I am here to inform you that another Turk will be escorting Doctor Haynes to her research."
Sephiroth is off balance with the firmness of these words.
His bag is heavy with the few things that he had been able to pick up for Orlin. Getting away, now that both Genesis and Angeal were dead, was now possible for him. Orlin is running out of time. Even Mariella is confident enough to tell him, quietly, that he should prioritize coming to see him.
That is Sephiroth's intentions.
Or it should be but now Tseng is sizing him up with fire in his eyes. It takes his breath away. He needs this. With the grief piling up in him, he needs Orlin. He needs someone removed. Someone who might be able to help sort this out. He needs one of the few people he trusts.
"What are you talking about?"
"After your actions, the Board has determined that you need to stay close to Midgar."
The threat of a Board mandated action closes his throat.
Sephiroth shakes his head. "I have not refused any interroga-"
Tseng's voice is even and emotionless. "Sephiroth you broke into a SOLDIER morgue to see a betrayer. You knew how Shinra felt about you and you did it anyway. We are both logical men here. See this as it is."
"I am going."
"No. You are not."
He has to look away. The "no" rings in his ears. Once again he is being told that there is something that he couldn't do. It echoes around him. There are walls in his head and they are closing tighter and tighter. If he fights this, the only result is he will sink further because Sephiroth cannot win. He has never won against Shinra. He is not strong enough.
"If you go knowing this, the repercussions will be severe when you come back." Tseng blinks. "And we both know that not returning isn't an option for you."
The Turk waits for a response and doesn't get one.
"You've been scheduled a meeting. You will be going over the training that Seconds are receiving. I suggest that you leave now." Tseng's movements are precise as he lifts his wrist, pulls back the sleeve and stares at the clock. His eyes drop to face and then back up to him.
Sephiroth's throat is dry.
Tseng digs into his. "You should go before it is too late."
That night in his apartment, Sephiroth waits for it to be late enough to go to bed. His phone sits quiet and dormant next to him. He remembers the days where it would light up constantly. When all three of them were in Midgar, it would be as alive as he was. On occasion, it would even warn him that his usage was going up. Like an unchecked addiction, it told him to stop. He hadn't. Those messages had been a lifeline.
Now his phone is empty and quiet.
His pen scratches against the paper as he writes and critiques the plans he has been given. He thinks it is a distraction. They gave him true busy work. There is no need for this to be done. Sephiroth's opinion ultimately doesn't matter anymore. Any prestige he has internally is gone. Sephiroth ruined it himself. It is apparent now.
It does nothing. This work doesn't even keep him busy.
The screen of his phone lights up, his only warning before it starts buzzing.
Sephiroth frowns. It is late. He turns the phone with his finger. It's Mariella, probably still with Orlin. Carefully, he takes the call and puts it on speaker.
"Yes, Mariella?"
"Hey," Orlin's voice comes through static brushing through it from the bad signal, "Sephiroth, is that you?"
Sephiroth sets down the pen. He closes his eyes and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. It feels good, almost too good, to hear this voice but it isn't what he wanted. He wanted to be there. This is just a bitter consolation prize.
"Did I lose you?"
Yes . The answer Sephiroth wants to give sticks on his tongue until he clears away.
"No, I'm here. How are you doing?"
There is a breathless quality to Orlin. "Oh, biding my time. I heard the news and why you couldn't come out to see me. I thought I should call."
Sephiroth's fingers press into his forehead. "Yes. A mistake."
"I wouldn't call it a mistake to want to see your friend."
Sephiroth shakes his head and realizes that Orlin wouldn't know. "It had consequences."
"Shinra is just full of shitheads. Including the Turk with us who either got told off and likes to live hating everything."
"Did you get a name?"
"Does his name matter? They're all the same." Orlin laughs.
"I suppose you are right." That twitches something in him. The joke feels good. He remembers this, talking to someone who isn't evaluating him.
The line goes quiet for a moment.
"Are you doing okay over there?"
Sephiroth sits up, straightens and pretends like he has for the last few weeks. "It's a challenging time but nothing that I can't surpass."
There is a pause. Sephiroth taps the phone and makes sure he still has a signal. He does.
"Yeah," Orlin drags the word out and colors it with a tease. "I'll believe that when I also believe that you like women."
That chokes an almost laugh out of Sephiroth. "You know?"
That gets Orlin going, quick and easy. "Sephiroth. You do pretty good but you can't hide the way that you used to stare at shirtless photos of guys as a kid. There used to be the most confused cute little expression on your fa-"
"Okay. I understand."
"I just hope you found someone at some point. Shit gets boring alone."
The amusement dies in Sephiroth's chest. This is about them . Even Orlin wants to know. Sephiroth's fist tightens. He's so tired from this repeated conversation but addressing it head on with Orlin will make him believe it.
"Orlin, I wasn't romantically involved with either of them. They didn't even know. Few do."
"I wasn't asking that-"
"You were."
Orlin's fingers tap some surface. "I want you to be happy. The guy could be a car mechanic or an actual escort. I don't care. I just don't want you to be alone. Both Mariella and me, we're just temporary. You don't have family like that."
He has no family. Those words, that factual statement that has lived with him his whole life, dig new and fresh into him.
"Orlin." Sephiroth starts and stops. He doesn't know how to negotiate this.
"I wasn't your dad. I was never like that. I didn't do enough. I didn't protect you. I didn't say-" The words stumble through the line and he has to stop it.
"You aren't feeling well. Don't worry about this."
"Gast wasn't enough either."
That twists his gut.
"Professor Gast wasn't my father. I never had one. I never had a mother. Neither are here."
"That's why you need someone who can be there for you."
The words hit like a punch. Sephiroth looks away and rereads the pointless lines on report, filling his head, drowning out the rest.
"Why are you saying this?"
"Because someone needs to tell you that this is going to get better but you have to try for it to happen." The phone audio crackles.
Try . It burns. Sephiroth looks away. He had been so stupid. Incredibly naive and it was his own fault. Had he not let them in, he would not be in this situation. He would not be bleeding on the floor without a way to stop it.
"It won't get better. Not anymore. The war is over but it won't-they aren't coming back."
"Mariella has told me about your plans."
Sephiroth holds his breath. He had talked to her recently. The surgery to put in the implant was being pushed up to as close to his last tests as possible which was stretched out to September because of Genesis "defeating" him. His last exposure is in August, a light one to wean off his body and then a final examination.
After that, Mariella could help him leave.
He shakes his head. "Even then. What do I have left?"
"There are always options. You just need to see them." These suggestions seem so prudent. Orlin doesn't talk seriously like this. It isn't in his vocabulary. He helps but in a way that is tangential is the problem. A raspy breath breaks across the line.
Sephiroth pauses.
It isn't static.
"This is our last phone call," Sephiroth says.
Orlin doesn't speak for a moment.
"I…I'm starting to lose the battle, kid. I don't want you to come to see me. Not like this. Not that you can anyways. We've got it all arranged here."
More death.
The people who know him are dwindling down to nothing.
"I've seen enough sunrises and done enough. I'm bone tired. It's time to give up this ghost," Orlin says, "but not for you. You know that, right?"
Sephiroth has stopped talking. His focus has drifted away across his living room. There is a book on his side table. The cover reads "The Misery of It All: Loveless Interpretations ." Genesis had left it in the hotel room that they had shared and Sephiroth had always meant to give it back. There are sticky notes in it. Cursive scrawl peeks out between the pages.
"I want you to promise me that you will keep going."
Sephiroth slowly rises from the table. He runs his fingers across the surface, feeling the imperfection, the slant that is still there. Orlin had been right. He had no family. Mariella may be helping him now but she's never told him that she was family to him. She has even tried to replace him with a child of her own. Her actions could be considered a civic duty.
"Did the line cut out?"
Orlin is the sentimental type. His emotions have driven him to where he is. There is no true attachment there. He is wrapped up in a fantasy of the world.
Sephiroth hovers above his phone and watches the seconds tick by. He blinks. It is too heavy. Another part of his life has shut down.
"Sephiroth?"
This is impossible.
"Kid? You there?"
Sephiroth is not.
He presses a button and the call cuts off. His fingers creep to the side until he feels a button. He waits until the screen asks him if he wants to turn off his device. It flickers twice and the screen goes blank.
The apartment is quiet. He strides across the room. The trash can's rim is firm and strong in his grip as he pulls it out from under the sink. There are things here he doesn't need, he realizes. When they were here, they helped him fill his space. A photo, a birthday present, hangs on the wall illustrating a view of Midgar. A cabinet is filled with tea. A candle sits on his countertop.
These items are all pointless.
They belong to people who no longer exist.
He drops the trash can in the middle of the small apartment.
The book waits for him.
The cover is worn. The weight is nothing but closing his eyes, he can see all the times that Genesis poured in this. With a pen in his hand, he would underline things. Books used to be the only way to shut him up. How careless he looked when he was doing something that he enjoyed.
It's pointless.
Genesis doesn't want the book.
He was dead.
They are all dead.
It thuds against the bottom of the trash can. A side dents a corner. It settles against a box of cereal that was expiring next month. Sephiroth stands and stares down at it. The gold foil of the cover shines back at him. He watches it. Genesis had once shoved this book in his face, insisting that the ending of Loveless was not only tragic but hopeful.
It starts to well up in him. He fights it. What had his emotions ever gotten him?
Nothing but pain.
Still he hangs in wait. He waits for Genesis to yell at him. He waits for this reality to shift. He waits for his old life to return.
His phone remains quiet. The door won't have a knock on it. It is just a book in the trash.
Nothing more, nothing less.