Realizations

Genesis woke to a peculiar sensation of displacement. At first, he thought he'd just had a really wicked nightmare—but then had to ask himself which part was actually 'the nightmare'. When he had to ask himself that question, he realized none of it was a nightmare and he really was displaced. He sat up slowly, still feeling somewhat sleepy, and took a closer look around his room now that he could see it in daylight, remembering how uniform all the basic apartments were—the same pale cream walls, the same green-edged brown floors, and the same steel gray cupboards.

In his apartment, though, he liked color. They'd given him a good backdrop to splash with rainbow colors; his bedding was a prime example, as the patchwork quilt was nothing but random colors and patterns, and the sheets were a colorful design from the Costa del Sol region. In his living room, he had a couch in red and a coffee table in black wood, a rug on the carpet which was blue (and ironically easier to clean than the carpet), and two chairs, one in green and one in purple. There was a stand of shelves which were in a silvery wood, too. The kitchen table seated four and was made of a rare, purple wood—it was his pride and joy—and each wooden chair was a different shade, from a yellowish color to mid-brown to reddish brown to dark brown.

On his walls were mainly posters relating to LOVELESS, but he also had one large, painted picture of a panoramic view of the dumbapple trees and forest surrounding Banora. Oh, and he apparently still had Masamune leaning against his bedroom wall...Huh...

Actually, looking at what his living space was like back—(how many years had it been, exactly?)—then, he suddenly found he wasn't surprised he'd gone insane or taken his two best friends with him into it. He also had a sudden urge to tear most of the LOVELESS posters off the walls, as he now also knew the real meaning behind the story, and behind the poem—which were actually two very different things probably put into the same work accidentally. At least, he was pretty sure the original author of the story and poem didn't know, unless said author (who had lived hundreds of years ago, at least) was a Cetra. Admittedly, that was possible, which would at least explain why the poem was a reference to Chaos and Omega, and to Jenova's arrival on their world as a damaged and mostly insane Omega from some other, unknown world.

When he finished a circuit around his apartment, he sighed and began tearing posters down, especially the very graphic or intensely red and/or black ones. Some of them were very nice and very well-done, but when a person plastered the walls of their living space with death and destruction and red and black, their mental state tended to follow suit, and he wasn't going to go through that again.

Insanity wasn't fun.

It was painful, it hurt you and everyone around you, left you with nothing, not even the ability to grasp reality when you had nothing else left. It led to actions, thoughts, and feelings which made no sense (he was a little surprised Bahamut had stuck with him for so long through the worst of his insanity), and it led to depression. Desperation became reason and justification enough, even when there was nothing to be desperate for, and more than anything, it grabbed hold of your mind and didn't let go, squeezing and grasping and strangling you every time you tried to return to reality.

It controlled you, like some sort of alternate personality, you didn't control it—and worse, you knew and were fully aware the whole time, and willingly went along with it because you couldn't tell anymore that you'd crossed a line. Or didn't care anymore if you did know you had.

Was he going to be able to face Zack—the younger, living one—after having forced his older self to 'kill' him in order to end his insanity, just like Angeal had done to the boy? It was just like Zack had asked him—why were they making him responsible for fixing their messes? And the agony they'd caused the cheerful boy in the process, and what their deaths had led Sephiroth to...the Nightmare and Meteorfall...

Genesis gave himself a shake to clear his head, and realized he was standing in the middle of his living room, surrounded by shredded LOVELESS posters, like a confetti of white, black, and red. Now, he could also see the cream walls.

Looking down at his hands, he realized he had damaged them at some point while he'd been tearing down the posters, and watched in mild amusement as the small cuts sealed themselves soon after. Mako enhancements—and even Jenova cells—had their uses, at least. But he'd gotten blood on some of the damaged posters scattered around his floor, and he still had all the work of gathering up all that scrap and throwing it out.

The thought made him sigh.

"Genesis!" Angeal exclaimed in alarm as a hand rested on his shoulder. "What did you do?" Looking up at the larger, more muscular man whose eyes showed his worry, the more slender and slightly shorter red haired man gave him an amused look. Angeal wore his black SOLDIER First Class uniform (Seconds wore dark purple, Thirds wore light blue, and Cadets in the training program wore dark red).

"I realized one of the things that had been wrong back then—I had surrounded myself with so much of this—red and black and death...I'm not so surprised by my own path after seeing this again in daylight. The LOVELESS posters still on the walls will stay, but—the rest of this is trash. That's all."

After a long moment of silence, the older of the two asked, "So do you plan on eating before going to your office to do your overdue paperwork?"

"Do I have to?" Genesis whined in true dramatic form. He was never going to like paperwork.

"I would hope you'd want to eat," Angeal answered evenly.

"Hey!" the shorter man glared. "Come on, you know I love good food—though cafeteria food doesn't really apply—but paperwork? I hate paperwork! I'm not doing it!"

A moment of silence followed the words before Angeal gave a small chuckle and said, "At least this hasn't changed. But yes, Genesis, you have to do it. One of your reports was due over a month ago now, so please get it done."

"Aw, come on—and that's besides the fact that I don't even remember what I was doing—wait, what's the date?" Genesis asked with a sudden frown. He should have asked sooner, but he'd had other things on his mind, and now he was going to end up really screwed because he'd have had a hard enough time writing a report from an event or mission a month ago, let alone how many years it had been.

"September twenty-fifth, nineteen ninety-eight," his older brother recited easily.

And Genesis drew a blank, frown deepening in confusion as he muttered, "What was I doing back then?"

"...How long is the difference?" Angeal asked with a worried look.

With a miserable sigh, the younger answered, "Fourteen years, Angeal. For me, fourteen years have passed. I really have no clue what I was doing yesterday, planned to do today, or wanted to do tomorrow, let alone something from a month before now! What am I going to do?"

Again, the other man was silent for a bit before opening his mouth.

Before he could speak, Sephiroth's familiar voice asked, "Are you both well?" They looked up at him and the silver haired man immediately saw Genesis' expression, and combined with the state of the room, he was prompted to ask, "What is the matter, Genesis?" He also wore his First uniform and his signature long, black leather coat.

Rubbing the back of his head, the black haired SOLDIER beside Genesis said, "You remember what happened last night, right?"

"Of course. It is difficult to forget spending over half an hour wrapped in red," Sephiroth replied, his expression faintly amused. "Oh, did you forget his current memory would be decidedly lacking due to the future memories he acquired?"

"Well—wait, you knew this would happen?" Angeal asked with a puzzled frown.

"I am—acquainted with another who has, or had, Leviathan's Blessing," Sephiroth answered. He then tossed a bag they hadn't realized he'd been carrying to the floor at Genesis' feet. "Those are some of your more recent complete reports, your partially-written ones, and the notes you had made on any of the rest I could find. There is also that photo album you insisted I keep—you may want to find your own as well—and some of the recent notes we had been exchanging, along with the records of the mission data you were given for the ones you took. And the records of the Cadets' scores on their first Materia class two days ago. Also, I told Lazard the three of us are—indisposed today to spend some time together, something we have been unable to do in two months now. Unless he receives an emergency mission, he is agreeable. We will go through all of this with you while we jog your memory. I would advise you to use our presence to complete some of the work as you are able."

A deep, mournful sigh left Genesis' lips as he said, "I really do hate paperwork..." The other two just blinked at him, but had no time to answer as he made a face and admitted, "I guess you're right, though. That's probably the best way to go about it. But it's going to take awhile...probably most of the rest of the day...to go through all this. When will we get to go see Tseng to see if he knows?" Of course, Genesis knew he would, but he didn't really feel he could just tell them that.

"If rumor from the Turks' office is true, Tseng is indisposed, himself, at the moment, and not in a good way," Sephiroth told the red haired man. "In all honestly, the Turks all seem to have become—jumpy—since this morning when he would have arrived for his shift, and I would really rather not walk into their office while they are in such a state, regardless of my reason, or I—we—risk being attacked merely for being someone not a Turk."

Making another face, Genesis nodded. "If they're like that, it's probably better to wait until they settle down. Geez, Tseng never created this much trouble before, did he?"

"Not that I know of, but we don't know that much about the Turks' offices and what goes on there," Angeal answered. "For all we know, Tseng could do this weekly."

"Then why have we never seen Turks jumpy weekly?" Genesis asked with a raised brow, and the other two blinked at him. "Fine, if we're waiting, we should get started on this...I guess we should eat first, though, since we'll all collapse if we don't eat soon."

That was one of the problems with Mako enhancements—in exchange for greater strength, faster recovery, faster reflexes, and enhanced senses, the body ran at a much higher metabolism rate and needed a larger quantity of food. SOLDIERs easily ate about double what a normal man ate for a meal when they hadn't been exercising, and three or four times the amount if they had just had a workout recently. In their case, as combat personnel, the 'workout' normally came in the form of their combat missions, and resulted in the cafeteria frequently being open at the time SOLDIERs were expected to return. Shinra was stupid with a lot of things, but they really didn't want to starve their elite military force, or they risked retribution from many highly volatile men made more volatile by the enhancements.

That was the thing about Mako. It was the Planet's energy effectively compressed into a liquid form so people could touch it—natural Mako Springs were the proof it was actually a natural process. The Mako produced naturally was soft, gentle, warm, and could easily be mistaken for water which gave off a green-tinged and mystical hazy light, a soft glow which had always attracted people to it—normal humans or Cetra, as far as Genesis knew. In the Mako Reactors, that same energy was processed into a parody of its former self (green sludge), and tended to produce as one of its by-products an ever-present, green pollution haze which stank something awful if you weren't used to it, and Midgar was steeped in that haze and smell.

However, when Mako was taken and injected into the bloodstream (which normally resulted in Mako poisoning), it was effectively shoving a small part of the energy of the Planet into the recipient's body. The change was permanent—Mako enhancements didn't just fade or wear out over time—and the body adapted to the throbbing of another energy source flowing through it. Which was the point and had definite advantages (and Minerva didn't even seem to mind people having the enhancements), but it also meant they were increasing the energy level of the body exponentially, which meant said energy had to come out somehow. Well, it came out in emotional instability to varying degrees, made men more likely to be dramatic or to lose their tempers.

Shinra knew that, and also knew the harsh discipline they taught SOLDIERs as a result wouldn't be enough to keep their 'guard dogs' from attacking them if they didn't feed them their required quota of food in a day.

The most amusing part of the by-play of the situation was actually that the Turks were a lot cheaper to keep and easier to kill—but singularly more deadly as the spies, assassins, kidnappers, and information gatherers of Shinra. Turks were 'easier to kill' in the sense that they weren't just going to heal in five minutes from a bullet wound to the heart, but really—it was almost impossible to kill a Turk. It still amazed him that they managed to survive an average of seven or eight years after Vincent had told him about some of their missions. And worse, killing a Turk was sort of like playing roulette with a fully loaded gun to your head, because everyone in Shinra knew they had created a monster by creating the Turks, where their survival depended almost solely on loyalty to one another, not to Shinra.

SOLDIERs were less likely to run rampant as long as they were being fed and housed and had things to keep them busy—they were a lot like dogs that way. Keep them content and they'd obey orders and laze away their days otherwise. Turks—were like tigers. Genesis had met a tiger once in Wutai—it wasn't even a monster and it had nearly killed him, Mako enhancements and all. Actually, Tseng reminded him a lot of a very literal tiger, and fourteen years in the future, he had wondered more than once if that thirty or thirty-two-year-old man who had withstood so much and still been so powerful actually somehow had tiger blood in him, literally. But all Turks were like tigers, waiting in the bushes for the right moment to pounce and go for the throat, and teasing one or pissing it off—hurting it—was a sure way to end up with retaliation.

Very. Painful. Retaliation.

Genesis shuddered at the thought of the tiger in Wutai and his really close call, making Sephiroth ask, "What memory came to mind just now, Genesis?"

Looking up with sudden wry amusement, the red haired man answered, "I was actually thinking about that close call I had with the tiger in Wutai and—well, if SOLDIERs are essentially dogs, then Turks are essentially tigers. The thought of my close call and comparison to jumpy Turks was—unsettling."

With a nod, Sephiroth said, "It would indeed be an accurate comparison, particularly by factoring Tseng into the equation. From my assessment of his fighting style—the way he holds himself, the way he moves—I believe he is the last living member of the Noble Kaoin House, who trained in the Dancing Tiger martial style. And the Turks often end up in that department by showing similar traits in general to what the Kaoin line was taught, though they use vastly different fighting styles. Hence why I said I would rather not walk in there while they are jumpy. Now, you should begin—cleaning up this room while I go fetch us some food. It should not take overly long, but I will be leaving the building, so you will likely have about half an hour."

"Okay," Genesis agreed in mild surprise as Sephiroth moved to his bedroom door, grabbed his sword, and turned to go. He had never actually known any of that about Tseng, so while it had been a rather long and not especially relevant bit of data, it was also very informative, so he appreciated it just then.

"Thanks, Seph," Angeal added. The silver haired man nodded over his shoulder as he left, and the black haired man faced the red haired one. "Well, he's probably right that we should start by cleaning this up or we'll have nowhere to work on the rest of the things we need to go through."

Genesis had to sigh, but both men worked to gather the shredded posters and throw them in the garbage—only to run out of space to put them in before they even got half-way through the mess. Normally, small garbage bins worked just fine, but this wasn't 'normal'. With a bit of amusement at Genesis' distress, Angeal called the janitor's office and asked them to bring up a couple more bags—and wait around to take the filled ones to the garbage disposal. Once he had their—confused—agreement, the two men began just gathering the rest of the poster scraps into piles near the bin, and were mostly finished by the time the janitors got there. It didn't take long to stuff the bags and let the janitors leave with them—just as Sephiroth returned.

"Was that really half an hour already?" Genesis asked in surprise as Sephiroth hefted a large cardboard box in an equally large bag onto his kitchen table. The contents smelled divine!

"Approximately. This place looks much better now," the silver haired man told the red haired one in faint amusement, pulling the box out and opening it. "Sit, eat."

As he pulled out a very familiar box, Genesis pounced on it eagerly as he cheered, "You got dumbapple pie! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" Admittedly, the ripening method of Banora white apples, or dumbapples (the reason they were called that was because their ripening was completely random), meant it was hard enough in Banora to get enough of them together at once to make a decent quantity of anything. To get enough of them shipped to Midgar was a minor miracle, and dumbapple pie was a luxury.

Angeal grabbed the box out of Genesis' hands, an amused grin on his face as he said, "Gen, the pie won't go anywhere. Eat some real food before that."

"Apples—even dumbapples—are 'real food', Angeal!" Genesis scowled at the black haired man, reaching for the box to take it back.

"Breakfast, then dessert. That's what my Mom always said—to you, too. Right?"

At the words, Genesis froze, then sighed in defeat. "Oh, come on..."

"Exactly why does Genesis behave so much like a child half his age?" Sephiroth asked suddenly, having watched the exchange in confused curiosity.

Both Angeal and Genesis turned to look at him in surprise for a moment, before the reverse passage of time actually hit Genesis and he realized what ages they all were. In all honesty, even knowing he'd been sent back fourteen years in time hadn't caused him to realize his or his brothers' ages—but being told he was 'a child half his age' now was very different from fourteen years in the future. A child half his mind's age wouldn't actually have been 'a child' at all, as half of thirty-four was seventeen, but his current age was only twenty years old, and that only since last month—meaning 'half his age' was ten. Angeal had only been twenty since June, and Sephiroth was only eighteen, also as of June.

That was almost as mind-boggling as the realization that he'd been driving himself insane with his own LOVELESS posters.

"Gen?" Angeal asked softly in a worried tone as he rested a hand on Genesis' shoulder—a motion which managed to draw the red haired man out of his shock.

"Half my age...is ten," the red haired man muttered. His gaze went up to Angeal's confused expression and he said, "It just hit me—how old I am right now, back fourteen years before the end of the world—I'm going to need some serious training to get my body caught up with the one I'd had then, and—damn, that's insulting, being told I act half my age when that means I act like a ten-year-old."

After a moment, Angeal snorted and said companionably, "It's true, and sometimes, it's endearing. At least this way, little brother, I don't feel like I'm missing out on 'raising a family' because you're it."

"Hey! I don't need you to raise me!" Genesis pouted. "I'm just more—expressive—than most people."

A sound from the kitchen table made both of them start and look over at Sephiroth, only to blink in surprise as they realized he was snickering softly behind one hand, his eyes lit up with a mirth which—frankly, they had never seen so much joy from the younger man. When he got control of his chuckles, the silver haired eighteen-year-old said, "Forgive me, but you...both seemed to be enjoying that, and—it was truly a hilarious argument of a sort. I should not have laughed, however."

Genesis gave him a small smile and said, "It's fine, and you're allowed to laugh if something is funny. Just—I hope you won't ever find people suffering as something 'funny'. Anything else, like this—it just surprised us because this is the first time we've seen you laugh, really laugh, in joy. I'm glad we got you to, even if we hadn't intended to."

The younger man blinked, then asked, "Even in fourteen years of new memories, you have no memory of me laughing in true joy?"

"No," Genesis answered sadly, and Angeal sighed as Sephiroth looked down at his open carton of food—some sort of meat and rice mash which smelled of garlic. "You laughed, but it wasn't in joy. It's how I imagine you would laugh if you were actually able to get up the courage to kill Hojo."

Sephiroth's eyes moved back up to his in something like worry before he commented tentatively, "By your wording...it was not Hojo I killed."

"No, it wasn't," the older man agreed.

"Who?"

"It's better you don't know. I hope—I sincerely hope—it will not happen again."

The three fell into miserable silence for a bit as they chose food to eat and began picking at it—until Genesis gave himself a shake and asked suddenly, "One of the reports was the results of the first Materia class the new Cadets took, wasn't it?"

"It was," Sephiroth agreed.

"And those always went to me in case any had enough skill for further Materia training...But..."

The red haired man began calculating something in his mind before going to the bag to find the report in question, which he quickly looked through. He noticed the name Zack Fair—his Materia results were average—but then he looked further down the list and found Kunzel Tarins. The man had built only lean muscle, just like Genesis had—which was the exact opposite of the heavily muscled body-builders who tended to come out of the Cadet program.

Kunzel had never really been someone people paid attention to, just faded into the background, but he actually was showing Materia usage traits Genesis should have noticed the first time through. It was possible his twenty-year-old self had, but hadn't wanted the responsibility, so had left Kunzel on his own in a unit where the magically-skilled needed specialized combat training in order to excel and move forward in the ranks. More, Kunzel was the one everyone lovingly called the 'Turk in disguise' because he seemed to have access to all the same data as the Turks.

"Last time, I ignored him. This time—I can't do that," Genesis said, looking up at his brothers.

They blinked at him in surprise before Angeal asked, "Who?"

"A Cadet named Kunzel Tarins. He's someone like me—he's a magic and agility fighter, and he needs a mentor who can teach him to capitalize on those strengths, otherwise he's just going to get lost in the system," the red haired man explained. "He's also as good at digging up information as the Turks—at least, if he's still got that trait, which he should, he'd be a huge asset to what we need to do. Also, he's not blindly obedient, so he won't just obey Shinra's orders without thinking them through, and if he's got another option, I think he'd take it."

"Genesis..." Sephiroth began in mild shock. "Are you offering to become a Mentor? While you have the Blessing?"

"Not 'while', because," Genesis replied evenly. "The best part is, if it's someone intelligent and interested in learning, I already know I'm able to do it, because I did it for Weiss for about two years before everything went to pot."

Both of the other two blinked at him again, then Angeal sighed with a faintly amused smile and said, "If you feel up for it, then by all means. Of course, you'll stun everyone in Shinra by taking on a protegee, but that'll keep their eyes away from—other things, too. Especially if Tseng is an ally as you think."

"In which case, we had best get to reminding you what had been happening in your life at this point in time," Sephiroth added.

Genesis nodded, and the three quickly finished eating their meals (and even had some of the pie) before the red haired man dressed in his own black uniform and signature long, red leather coat. They then set to work on the papers the red haired man needed to start with in order to jog his memory.