Summary: She never would have imagined it would have ended like this: in a damp, dark cell, a disembodied voice that offered very little comfort and a captor that vaguely reminded her of an old friend. This wouldn't end like this, not for her.
[Warning: physical harm, gore, vomiting, Sephiroth x Aerith]
Chapter Four:
Open Heart Surgery
"Here's your breakfast, doctor," Helena handed Sephiroth his breakfast with distaste: a plate of toast smothered in butter and jam. Helena was oftentimes reprimanded for her inability to meet Sephiroth's standards of how he wanted his breakfast. Now he was noticing she was doing it capriciously—trying to rile a reaction from the empty man.
"Please get back to the dissections," the good doctor said. Helena bit her tongue, forcibly holding her fists to her sides.
Helena was clearly upset, which spurred a sensation in Sephiroth that he couldn't quite place it, and honestly, he found no benefit in wallowing in it. Helena had found his secret, which wasn't much of a secret as he hid everything in plain sight.
Helena was offered a blessing a few days ago. She was measured for a lab coat and civilian clothing – Sephiroth had a fabric measuring tape and Helena blushed as he crossed her chest and waist. Helena had requested for the other patients to be let free from the confines of the basement lab—Genesis was getting antsy knowing that Helena was let free. Sephiroth upheld a boundary: Helena would be the only one let free because of her usefulness—to make breakfasts and mop up after Dr. Sephiroth. Helena accepted the gesture as one step to weasel herself into the lab and find an exit again. He even allowed her to go upstairs supervised.
Helena looked into the backyard the day she was walked upstairs to be measured, a thin veil of sunlight peeking through the curtains. Helena basked in the way it felt on her bare arms, approaching the back door. Helena let out a gasp. "What's the matter?" Dr. Sephiroth asked, smiling. "It was short-sighted of me to not put up a fence. I suppose it will be very difficult for you to leave now." Helena was embittered suddenly; she no longer wanted to play his game.
Dr. Sephiroth then showed her around the main floor. Helena, running like her life depended on it, did not take into account the size or layout of the house. It was small, open concept, and had one bedroom. The cupboard doors were hardwood, which made Helena jealous—her cupboards in a hole in the Slums were melamine and peeling. She found it interesting, knowing that the humidity that hit her as soon as she got to the main floor would warp the hardwood. She thought against pointing that out.
He showed her how to make his breakfast, very clear in his instruction—Helena found a way to absorb his anality with contempt. Two whole wheat toasts, butter when it is warm and jam when it has cooled slightly—burn the bread, lather it in butter, leaving chunks of jam. So, she made his breakfast one morning. Sitting on the couch in the living room with barely any furniture—just how he liked it. She opened the fridge to get the jam to find his secret. She bit the inside of her cheek, got the jam, and closed the fridge door as calmly as she could muster.
"He's doing vivisections. On himself," Helena told Genesis that evening through the vent. "He's cutting out pieces of his organs and keeping them in the fridge." Genesis said nothing for a time and then laughed. Helena did not in turn laugh.
Helena went back to her dissections of organs she knew came from the good doctor. She had found a pack of expired gum in one of the drawers and was chewing obnoxiously, holding back a gag. The idea of Dr. Sephiroth lying himself on his examination table, chest splayed open, digging at the fleshy organs, was far too much for Helena, who was no stranger to dissections. She was tempted to ask him how he did it but knew she wouldn't get much in response. She continued to chew at the stale piece of gum, feeling it disintegrate. "Oh, no," Helena managed to get out before hurling her porridge breakfast in the waste receptacle beside her.
Dr. Sephiroth stood from his seat and studied her a few paces away. Helena was unpleasantly heaving; he reached for her back and began trailing her spine with the ball of his palm, trying to ease the painful reaction. Helena found it comforting—the heaving stopped.
"Maybe you should rest." Sephiroth removed the basket from Helena's hugging grasp.
"No! I'm fine." The thought of the cell, alone and cold, chilled the knot in her stomach. "I can do this."
"I suggest you learn ways to cope." Sephiroth sat back down at his desk, pushing his breakfast aside.
"Why do you do it?" It was beyond Helena—she needed to understand. The lengths to which they both pursued scientific conquest were immeasurable—or at least she thought. He was leagues beyond her, willing to carve out small spaces for curiosity within his own flesh; Helena nearly gagged again.
Sephiroth sighed, "I think this is just too much excitement for you and your fragile state."
"Did you learn it from Hojo?" She never heard Hojo committing such atrocities to himself, safe for injecting himself with JENOVA cells, but that wasn't an atrocity, Helena compromised.
Sephiroth didn't like her dancing around him. The insubordination was too frustrating—more than she was worth. "I think you should rest."
"Please, Sephiroth. I won't misbehave anymore. Promise." Helena's hand instinctively reached for his arm; his dress shirt pulled to his elbow. The heat she felt from his bare arm was enticing. She always knew he was warm—the reports said so, but this was wonderful to feel on her frigid skin.
Dismissively, he instructed, "Go and clean this bin."
"You're letting me go upstairs by myself?" Helena asked.
"Yes. Is this trust misplaced?" Sephiroth turned around to face her, observing the fine lines of her forehead shift around. He wondered briefly what it would be like to study the organ resting in her thick skull.
Helena didn't answer but took the bin from the floor and walked to the stairs. The door to the main floor was left unlocked; Dr. Sephiroth had a lock placed on the door the week after she escaped. Helena went to the small three-piece bathroom and dumped her vomit in the toilet. She held herself from hurling again.
The medicine cabinet was left open, so curiosity naturally struck Helena. At first, she tempered herself, pretending she was only looking for tissues (why in a medicine cabinet, Helena knew naught). But then it became a game of exploration. She found that old habits died hard, and harder for an addict who would often sift through her friends' medication to find something coveted. She wondered if he had the good shit—for a moment's reprieve. It was then she found a large bottle of prednisone and a small bottle of aprotinin. The surgeries, Helena mused. The surgeries… He was taking the medication regularly, she assumed. But he would know if it went missing, wouldn't he? Helena continued for a moment, rolling the bottles from side to side, watching the pills shift around the cloudy plastic container.
She could hear footsteps, so she placed the bottles back into the medicine cabinet and flushed the toilet. Sephiroth had not been pleased with how long it was taking her. Helena threw a smile and showed him the empty bin. Sephiroth found the open cabinet and took a quick inventory. Helena was pleased with her sneakiness, but Dr. Sephiroth knew better.
"Stand straight. With your arms out." He commanded.
Helena's face fell. "I," she began before Sephiroth raised his hand, silencing her. Helena did as she was commanded, stifling sounds of discomfort. Sephiroth patted her arms, then up her legs. Hands reached for her waist, and Helena shrank away from the warm touch. His hand rested on her hips.
"Turn around."
Helena did as she was told. Sephiroth trailed his hands on her backside, his fingers looping around the elastic on her underwear, detecting if there was any resistance in the weight of her underwear. "See? Nothing," Helena squeaked, her face on fire.
"I suppose my trust wasn't misplaced. Now if you have had your fun, go back down. I need some slides prepared."
"Hello?" Helena could hear a muffled voice outside, on the side of the house. "Hello?" It called again. She vaguely recognized it. Sephiroth noticed.
He grabbed her by the mouth, lifting a finger to his. "If you say one word, Genesis will regret having an empty cell next to him. Understood?"
Helena nodded against his hand before he nudged her through the door to the basement stairs. Helena waited in silence, waiting to hear the voice closer, to place a name to the mystery voice.
"Aerith?" Sephiroth opened the back door, the only door to the house. Helena absorbed the name, suppressing a smile. He was seeing her again—the Ancient. He was trying to cover his tracks, Helena knew he would have been, but nothing could hide him away from a woman with such tenacity. Helena found it distasteful that he was seeing her when it was clear knowledge around the Turks that she was seeing Zack Fair. Ah, yes, the man in the other cell.
"You've been missing for so long! I heard that you were in Mideel, so I decided to come and visit." Ah, so they were in Mideel. Helena hadn't recognized the suburban area; she always assumed Mideel to be more tropical. Certainly Shinra had something to do with the urbanization of it. Certainly his work was becoming more well-known in the annals of Shinra. What had he been telling the Ancient? Helena wondered.
Helena reached for the doorknob. The door wasn't locked. She pushed open the door to come face-to-face with the long-legged beauty in a fitting pink dress. Helena let Aerith's defined features seep in, as much as Helena hoped her faded blue hair, with long roots, would be absorbed by her. Now Aerith knew Helena's face, slightly gaunt in appearance; now Helena had Dr. Sephiroth's number.
"Oh," Aerith called, eyeing the good doctor.
"Hi," Helena called, breaking a tension as delicate as a string of hair, "I'm just here to get a few things."
"Oh," Aerith repeated. She held out her hand, introducing herself.
Helena returned the gesture, "Helly."
Aerith was about to ask if it was short for anything before Sephiroth inched Helena to the door. Helena smiled as the door closed around her, pushing her further down the stairs. He would regret this, Helena thought to herself before returning to her very important work.
Helena waited in her cell. She hadn't seen Sephiroth all day, so she let herself back into her cell. What a good little doggy; Helena was so disgusted with the thought. She hadn't had supper, nor did the other subjects…patients. Genesis grumbled about it for a moment before realizing that Helena was not returning his disdain in kind. No, she waswell-fed.
The light from the hallway seeped through into her cell—there was a burnt light on the ceiling that Sephiroth had not changed. Helena remained lying down, feet crossed and dancing together; Helena was mighty pleased with herself. "I have demands." Helena's saccharine voice made her own skin crawl.
Sephiroth let out a laugh, arms crossed and refusing to let go of each other. "You think you can make demands?"
"I think I can. Lest she know my real name. Lest she knows we're all down here." Helena taunted the good doctor with glee.
"Be careful, Ms. Menninger," Sephiroth warned.
"I want Genesis out of his cell. Daily," Helena clarified, knowing the games the good doctor would and could play. "And I want a shower. Not this bullshit of sponge baths."
"Very lofty these demands are, Ms. Menninger. I should remind you that onlyIam here to save you."
"Let's be honest,doctor, your world is quickly closing in around you. I say nothing about your little girlfriend, and I get my demands met. Very simple."
Sephiroth grabbed her shoulder in one quick movement from the door to her cot, not fully registering the process of fast twitch fibre muscles. He pushed her to the cot, a knee drawn up to her pelvis, pushing his knee until she screamed. "I'll remind you who is controlling whom," he let out slowly, each word conscientiously constructed to elicit fear in the researcher.
"You can't kill me. You won't kill me." Helena wasn't entirely certain that was true, eyes gleaming and studying her gasping breaths as he moved his knee from her pelvis to the bottom of her stomach, snuffing out any breath remaining in her.
Sephiroth slowly removed himself from her, releasing his grasp on her shoulder to pin her on the cot by her throat, but this time it wasn't as menacing—just a reminder. "I'll let him out. You'll have a shower the day after tomorrow."
"Ah, so she's still here." Helena knew she was pushing it, but the feeling of his hand on her throat wanted more—to what end?
"I think you should stay in your cell for a few days. Perhaps without food. Or medication."
Helena wanted to cry out her apologies—not the medication! But she knew she was onto something. She knew if she played her cards right and close to her chest… "You're in control, Dr. Sephiroth."
Sephiroth opened the door and let it close again, locking automatically. Helena massaged the pressure on her body, releasing the gathering tension in her muscles, taking a deep breath to activate her parasympathetic nervous system.
"So, I get a good boy field trip?" Helena could almost hear the smirk in the vents.
"You're welcome."
"Did he hurt you?" Helena assumed it was Genesis feigning concern, not knowing how much Helena's company meant to the Crimson SOLDIER. Helena answered with a solemn one word.
"Listen," Helena whispered in the entrance of the vent, "I saw he's taking medication for his surgeries."
"I'm listening," Genesis laughed.
"He also has mercuric cyanide." Helena noticed he was using it as an antiseptic or perhaps collecting discontinued compounds. Or perhaps tempting her.
"So we poison him by putting it in his food. Is that what you're saying?"
"No, he'd notice right away that I was up to something. I'm not that good. And I'm not sure how much he'll need; he's a SOLDIER after all. No, we put the powder in the capsules. He takes them, one by one, and we wait, patiently."
"I don't know how long you can wait, dear scientist."
Helena sighed, sinking into her cot. "Me neither. But if I have your help—"
"No need to worry. I'm with you in this little endeavour."
Aerith's fingers traced the space where chunks of meaty heart muscle beneath taut skin had been taken a few days prior. "I didn't know you were doing such amazing work here. If I had known—."
"You should have just trusted me," Sephiroth's breath moved her fingers playfully.
"I just missed you," Aerith nestled her chin into his hair, wrapping her arms around him, bare skin touching. He refused to return her affection, which drove her mad. No amount of teasing produced a reaction. He would just look at her, and she would concede.
"That woman must be really working hard. What was her name again? I feel like I recognize her from somewhere."
"I will make something clear to you, Aerith: donotask me what I do here." Sephiroth was severe, but Aerith knew he must've just been stressed with all the work he was doing. Aerith tempted a kiss, chaste lips grazing his cheek. Sephiroth grabbed her by the wrist, softly but strict. He wanted her to make a promise to him she would keep until the moment she claimed her last breath.
"I promise."
"Her name is Helly," Sephiroth answered; Aerith returned to her soft caresses. Ah yes,Helly. This was becoming more and more interesting, exciting even. Dr. Sephiroth would have to ask himself who was in control, not to assert dominance over her but rather to satisfy a taste for something… Something are a… god.
A/N: I decided to take a break from The Shinra Therapist to post another chapter of this fic. I hope it was an interesting read, as much as it was fun writing it.
Song: All These Things I Hate (Revolve Around Me) - Bullet For My Valentine