Title: What Happens in Edge (Chapter 2: Stays in Edge)
Rating: R-ish overall. Chapter rating PG.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Sephiroth/Vincent
Summary: Vincent takes a trip to Edge to visit Tifa and Cloud. In retrospect, he probably should have told them Sephiroth would be coming with him.
Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6
Original Post Date: Between 2-2-2009 and 8-27-2010
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII does not belong to me.
—
Chapter 2: Stays in Edge
Well I can't hear anything, Cloud thought to himself as he pressed his ear against the door. It was bad enough he had to give up his room to a madman, but it was even worse that he had no way of knowing what sort of horrible things Sephiroth was doing to his stuff. The image of Sephiroth going through his drawers and mutilating all his clothes with the masamune kept popping into his mind and he pressed against the door a little more desperately. His only hope was Vincent. Cloud was confident that his red-eyed friend would try to protect his possessions, though the blond was still trying to process Sephiroth and Vincent being on friendly terms. How his archenemy had even managed to come back from the dead (how many times did he need to kill the guy?) again was beyond him. Not to mention Sephiroth had somehow managed to convince Vincent he was a good guy, which was just impossible. Vincent was a smart man. The only reasonable explanation Cloud could come up with was Sephiroth had somehow brainwashed the ex-Turk. That or he was using some serious Manipulate materia.
He squinted at the lightly colored wood of the door. There had been a noise. It had been faint, but he was sure... There it was again! They sound almost like footsteps..., he mused. Cloud started and leapt from his position against the door. He glanced down the hall and cursed its smooth, featureless walls. There was no where to hide. Cloud straightened himself and tried not to look too guilty. I should pretend I was just coming down the hall...
And then the door opened. Cloud looked up to see his least favorite person standing before him. Sephiroth's hair was damp against his button down shirt and judging from the man's raised eyebrow, Cloud's trying-not-to-look-guilty face was failing him horribly. The soft sound of falling water told Cloud Vincent was probably in the shower.
Sephiroth arched his eyebrow a little higher. "Well, this isn't at all strange."
Cloud glared at him, but gave no other response. He stole a quick glance into the room. What little of it he could see looked fairly untouched. Even his bed was made. It was a little suspicious.
Sephiroth looked over his shoulder to see what Cloud was looking at. "Hm? Oh, we didn't do anything on your bed if that's what you're thinking."
Cloud blinked. Wait, do what exactly? He could think of a few implications that could have been compatible with that statement; none of which were appropriate. "What?"
Sephiroth stared at him blankly, as if not sure Cloud was being serious or not. Then a devious smirk slid across his face. "Oh you know. We didn't do anything."
Blue eyes narrowed. "No, I'm not sure I do know."
"Sex, Cloud."
Cloud gasped. Surely not! Not Vincent and this... this...! His couldn't even come up with a word for the evil in front of him. Wait, Vincent was totally into that Lucrecia chick. He can't be gay... Right? But another voice whispered just behind his ear, he always was a little on the pretty side... He could be bisexual...but with Sephiroth? No. There's no way... almost no way...
Sephiroth was rather pleased with himself. Cloud's look of utterly dumbfounded horror was incredibly satisfying.
"You're lying," Cloud said finally. Sephiroth was trying to trick him, trying find something to hold over his head so he could have another reason to make fun of Cloud. Well, Cloud had plenty of experience with being pulled around and manipulated like a puppet. He wasn't going to fall for that again.
Sephiroth simply shrugged. "Suit yourself." He brushed past Cloud and began to walk towards the kitchen.
Cloud glared holes into the man's back. He was such a cocky bastard. Sephiroth's smooth voice drifted down the hall.
"We didn't do anything in your bed... but your shower..." Sephiroth paused at the stairs and gave Cloud a nasty smirk. "Well, let's just say it's a good thing the water washes away all the evidence." He grinned at Cloud's wide-eyed stare and turned away. Satisfied he had left the younger man scarred for at least the rest of the day he bounded down the steps, ready for a wonderful breakfast.
Title: What Happens in Edge (Chapter 1: What Happens in Edge)
Rating: R-ish overall. Chapter rating PG.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Sephiroth/Vincent
Summary: Vincent takes a trip to Edge to visit Tifa and Cloud. In retrospect, he probably should have told them Sephiroth would be coming with him.
Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6
Original Post Date: 2-2-2009
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and all its characters do not belong to me.
—
Chapter 1: What Happens in Edge
Seventh Heaven was a small bar, but it was cozy. It had good food, good booze, and a number of faithful regulars who frequented the bar rain or shine, which was good news for the owner of Seventh Heaven as Edge was almost consistently overcast and rainy. Today the bar had been unusually quiet, the stormy weather forcing even the most loyal of regulars to stay in their homes and out of the downpour. Tifa was unconcerned with the lack of customers. Instead of taking orders and brewing drinks, she spent her time cleaning the bar and restocking her beverages. She supposed it was a good thing business was slow; she was expecting company and wanted all the time she could get with her guest.
The door of the bar swung open and Tifa quickly set the glass she had been drying on the counter before rushing to the entrance to greet the newcomer. She easily recognized the dark clothes of her guest and the familiar, high-collared cloak. Ushering the man into the warmth of the room, she smiled at his long, water-logged hair. Dark bangs almost completely covered his distinct red eyes and locks of hair were plastered to his face. His cloak was also drenched and a puddle was quickly forming at his feet.
"Maybe you ought to think about investing in an umbrella, Vincent," Tifa said, voice filled with lighthearted humor.
His eyes met hers from behind his bangs and his lips twitched upwards briefly before returning to a flat, impassive line. "Perhaps."
Tifa grinned and began to help her friend with his cloak. She turned towards the stairs and said in a loud voice "Cloud! Vincent's here!" then turned back to Vincent. "The weather's got him out of work. There hasn't been a delivery call in days. It's been driving him crazy and he insists on making it worse by locking himself in his room. I just don't understand him sometimes."
Vincent nodded in understanding, slipping his heavy cloak off of his shoulders. Tifa could hear boots pounding their way down the stairs and rolled her eyes as she moved away from Vincent to close the door. Rain and wind were rushing into the building and the warmth was rushing out. She gazed out at the dark clouds and wondered at the stormy weather. It didn't look like it was going to calm down any time soon.
Suddenly a dark form manifested in the gloom, walking at a steady pace towards the bar. A length of pale hair whipped in the wind and the figure's broad shoulders and confident gait struck Tifa as vaguely familiar. The figure lifted its head suddenly and Tifa gasped in horror as her wine-colored eyes locked with green glowing ominously in the darkness.
"Vincent watch out!" She yelled in alarm, her arms instinctively rising into a defensive stance. The towel she had been using to clean was clenched so tightly in her fist her knuckles were going white. "Cloud!" The man was almost upon them; his cat eyes burned into hers and his smirk was arrogant and mocking. This wasn't right. How had he found them, how could he have known where they lived? Were the others all right? He was supposed to be dead.
Cloud was at her side in an instant, a broom held ready in his hands. She could hear his surprised, sharp intake of breath. "Sephiroth," Cloud said lowly, his eyes narrowing and his face twisting into an expression of fury. He bent his knees and braced his feet against the floor, blue eyes watching closely for any indication of an attack.
Sephiroth finally reached the doorway and stopped at the entrance. His amused gaze slid over their tense forms and the makeshift weapons in their hands. Tifa silently cursed, times had been so peaceful she had found no reason to keep her weapons close. Her gloves were deep in a closet upstairs, useless when she needed them. If Sephiroth was anything like she remembered... Unease settled in her stomach. Would they even make it through this alive, she wondered.
"Have I become such a trivial thing that you think you can defeat me with brooms and rags? I used to inspire such fear..." Sephiroth's voice was smooth and filled with humor. His posture was relaxed and his gloved hands were empty, but Tifa and Cloud both knew his deadly sword could be summoned in less than an instant. Tifa's muscles tightened, her heart was pounding in her chest and her breathing hitched. Her callused hands clenched nervously and she could feel a cold sweat forming on her body. Frigid rain was still pouring freely into the bar and landing on her bare arms, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were focused on Sephiroth's cold, handsome face; her mind pulling up old strategies and tactics taught to her when she had been a young girl. She had trusted her master Zangan with her life and had followed his teachings religiously, but even so she wondered if any of it would matter against the man before her.
Everything darkened suddenly and Tifa braced herself as the air around her pulsed. The blackness was oppressing, her breathing was quickly becoming labored. She knew this feeling, Sephiroth was summoning magic and somehow it seemed even more powerful than she remembered. Maybe it was because he was so close or because it had been so long, but the magical pressure was so ridiculously strong. He was only focusing his magical energy, he had not even begun to cast, and already Tifa could feel her body freezing in fear. There is no hope, she thought miserably,we're all going to die here.
"Sephiroth," Vincent's calm voice cut through the tension easily. His tone held just a hint of exasperation.
Tifa and Cloud both faltered in their battle stances and Sephiroth's gaze left them to look at the darkly-clad man behind them. The oppressing aura the man had been generating faded instantly. Sephiroth looked disappointed, "Vincent, you know I was only kidding..."
Vincent brushed his water-logged hair from his eyes and stared at Sephiroth flatly.
Sephiroth invited himself into the bar, easily brushing past the two people trying to stop him, and walked up to Vincent. He offered the dark-haired man a charming smile and lifted Vincent's chin with a finger. Vincent's expression did not change. Sephiroth was not discouraged, but he did step away, shrugging his shoulders.
Tifa stared at the pair with wide eyes. Her Tifa Senses were tingling. Was it just her or did their interaction seem almost... intimate? No one ever touched Vincent's face, yet Sephiroth had done so with such familiarity... Her head was starting to hurt. I'm probably looking too far into it... It's just too bizarre. A quick glance at Cloud told her he was oblivious to the subtle signs she was seeing.
"I think you're going to have to explain what's going on, Vincent," she said firmly, shutting the door.
Vincent heaved a quiet sigh. "I suppose I should have told you Sephiroth would be coming with me. I tried to get him to stay behind, but he insisted so I didn't have much of a choice. On the way here I tried to lose him... Needless to say, he followed me." He looked at Sephiroth and arched an eyebrow disapprovingly. The pale-haired man replied only with a self-satisfied smirk.
Tifa rubbed her temples. She could tell from the glarefest Cloud was having with Sephiroth that she would be the one asking all the questions. "But why... how is Sephiroth even here? How did the two of you even meet? And why, for the love of Ifrit, aren't we all dead yet?"
Vincent gave Sephiroth another sidelong glance. The man was as arrogant as always, the smirk he was directing Cloud's way nothing less than mocking and the blond looked like he wanted nothing more than to grab one of his swords and turn the bar into a battlefield. Vincent met Tifa's eyes once more. "It's... difficult to say." More like long story he really did not feel like going into. "Sephiroth approached me one day and I was convinced he was not our enemy. I... am confident he is being genuine," he finished quietly.
Tifa frowned, conflicted. She trusted Vincent with her life, but she could think of nothing more unpleasant than Sephiroth being inside her home. The entire situation was just... ridicuous. It was getting late, Tifa was not in the mood to think. She had just wanted to sit down and catch up with Vincent... Tomorrow, she decided. She would deal with this tomorrow. Maybe by some stroke of luck she would wake up and discover the evening had been an unpleasant dream. Tifa sighed inaudibly. "Fine, but I want you to watch him constantly. I'm sorry, but I just can't..." her voice faltered.
Vincent nodded, "I was planning on doing so anyway." He laid his right hand on her shoulder and she knew he understood. "Thank you, Tifa."
She smiled at him slightly, uncertain she had made the right decision. She would surely have to corner Vincent later and force the details out of him. Suddenly she realized that they were still standing by the door and Vincent was dripping on the hardwood. "Oh! What happened to my manners? Vincent, let me get you some towels... Cloud, help me get the futon out of the hallway closet. I think we're all about ready for some sleep..."
–
It was dark when she awoke and the clock on the bedside table told her it was just past five. Time for her to get up, but Tifa was content to lie a few moments longer and listen to the rainfall on the other side of her window. She closed her eyes briefly as she remembered the night before. Sephiroth... She was not sure she was ready to confront him just yet. Tifa was still wondering how the madman had managed to come back from the dead againand even more baffling, his connection with Vincent.
She slipped her legs out from under the covers and winced as her feet hit the cold floor. Her bedroom door creaked softly when she opened it and she crept as quietly as she could down the stairs as she made her way to the kitchen. Tifa did not want to wake anyone needlessly, especially not her guests sleeping in the living room. She was willing to bet Sephiroth was as light a sleeper as Vincent could be. Her dark-haired friend was one of the lightest sleepers she knew, but he was also oddly capable of sleeping like the dead on occasion. Perhaps it was a side affect from sleeping in that coffin for so long, Tifa thought to herself as she slid through the living room and into the bar portion of the house.
The warmth of the stove wiped the last remnants of sleep from her mind and the smell of the eggs scrambling in their pan made her feel slightly more optimistic about the coming day. After she had filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, Tifa took her plate and her slice of toast with her down the hall to the open doorway of the living room. She leaned against the door frame and gazed thoughtfully at the shapeless mass on the floor at the center of the room. The night before, Tifa had set up the two mattresses a fair distance from each other, but the pair seemed to have pulled them together. Perhaps she had not imagined their intimacy yesterday. Another forkful of eggs was pushed into her mouth and she chewed thoughtfully. The room was dark, but her eyes were adjusting accordingly. She could just make out Sephiroth's broad form lying on its back. Vincent, however, seemed to melt into the gloom and she could only assume he was the lump in the pale sheets next to the ex-general.
The lump shifted suddenly and Tifa could see a dark head separate itself from the mass of sheets and settle near the Sephiroth's sleeping form. Her eyes, having fully adjusted, could see that beneath the unruly, black hair, Vincent's expression was oddly serene. That alone was enough to make her stare. Never had she seen Vincent look so... open. Whenever AVALANCHE had made camp during their journey together all those years ago, Tifa had used to sneak glances at the sleeping Vincent; curious about his rarely uncovered face. She had been mildly surprised to find that even in sleep his face was schooled into a cool, impassive expression. She accepted it as simply the way Vincent was, but looking at him now she could see that there was more hiding beneath the surface. Had something changed in Vincent over the years? Perhaps he had become more open with his feelings and she had simply failed to notice. Or maybe it had something to do with his sleeping companion, though she found that hard to believe. Her eyes flickered over to Sephiroth as the thought came to mind.
She jumped when she saw the man's eyes open and bright in the blackness, calmly watching her watch Vincent. Heat quickly forced it's way up her neck and she was glad the room was dark, if only because it spared her the embarrassment of Sephiroth seeing her blush. Tifa suddenly felt like she had been doing something indecent. She suddenly felt the need to explain herself. "Uhh..."
Sephiroth only watched her with the same cool, detached interest he had when she had first seen him in Nibelheim. The thought was enough to kill whatever petty embarrassment she had felt. What was she doing? This was the man who had burned down her hometown, destroyed everything she had held dear. The grip she had on her plate tightened as the memories resurfaced, fresh as ever.
Her childhood home swallowed in flames. The homes of friends and neighbors she had known since birth burning. Bodies, all people and faces she knew and recognized. Nibelheim had always been small, the community of families close-knit and loving. The men of the town trying to stop the madman, all in vain. How Sephiroth had swiped at them with his masamune so effortlessly, how they had fallen so easily. His eyes wide and mad as he took in the destruction he had wrought. His dark coat fluttering in the fire, his hair stained the yellow-orange of the flames. The dread that had filled her when she had heard of her father's attempt to head off the crazed general. His body still and broken on the warm metal of the reactor floor, impaled by the glinting blade of Sephiroth's terrible sword. Tifa could feel a lump forming in her throat as the angry tears formed behind her eyes. She had taken that sword in her hands and rushed at Sephiroth. He had stopped the blade and cut her down; sent her body flying and tumbling down the reactor's hard metal steps. Her chest burned at the memory, the scar had never faded. The ugly, horrible scar Sephiroth had cut across her abdomen and chest. Tifa thought she could still feel a touch of pain, a reminder to make sure she would never forget. Sephiroth had batted her away like he would a fly and had not spared her a second glance; he had thought her so insignificant.
She was not leaning on the door frame anymore. Her hands were clenched around her plate, barely contained rage churning inside. Hatred was cold and rooted deep within her. Somehow she thought it would have faded over the years, after Sephiroth's defeat, but it was as powerful as ever.
"You hate me." Sephiroth's voice was low. Inflectionless. It was not a question.
Loathe, despise, detest, abhor. She narrowed her wine-colored eyes. "Being under the same roof as you, knowing you are here in my home makes me feel great pain and anger." Tifa barely remembered why she had agreed to accept the man into her bar.
Sephiroth watched her and she could see his arm snake beneath Vincent's body and around. Sephiroth's strong, long-fingered hand settled itself on the sleeping man's head. "I destroyed your town and killed you father. I even injured you." He remembered. The guide girl from Nibelheim.
Tifa could not believe how insensitive the man before her was. He had admitted such horrible deeds with no remorse, no emotion. Killed her father? Destroyed her town? "That was only the beginning of the list!" she wanted to scream. Aeris who had been both her close friend and her rival, the suffering he had brought upon Cloud, Hell, the entire Planet.
"I'm sure you would like to kill me."
There was no hesitation. "Yes."
Sephiroth slid his eyes from hers and gazed at the man he held in his arm. "Vincent did not want me to come because he knew it would hurt you and Cloud." Something dangerous flickered in his eyes; Tifa was not sure what it meaning it held. "I knew as well, but I came. You might think it was to hurt you, but I can assure you it was not though I am sure any attempt I might make to convince you would have no impact on your opinion." He paused then began again slowly, "it's strange, but for some reason I keep thinking if I let him out of my sight he will disappear again. Even though I know it's irrational." Tifa thought she saw a bitter smile curl his lips, but the darkness cloaked his expression well.
Her burning anger died just slightly, giving way to a wave of curiosity. "Just what is your connection with Vincent? Why..." she could not finish the sentence. Why do you care? You're supposed to be an insensitive, heartless bastard. Sephiroth caring about anything conflicted with her entire image of him.
He narrowed his cat eyes to slivers and he allowed his gaze to follow the smooth curve of Vincent's neck. "He cared when no one else would. He was kind before I even knew what the outside world was, what kind of place it was. He was... is..." Confusion flit through his mind. Deep in the green light of the lab with only science and cruelty for company, Vincent had been a blessing and Sephiroth had clung to him for as long as he could. Even now Sephiroth was following him, watching him, shamefully afraid he would vanish again. Sephiroth was supposed to inspire fear, he never felt it himself. "I don't know why I'm telling you this." His gaze fell on Tifa once again.
Tifa was not sure what to think anymore. Sephiroth had faltered, for a moment he had been uncertain. Never had she seen nor heard of such a thing. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to make her way back upstairs and roll back into bed; it was just too early for this. She hated this man, had hated him for many years, but a voice in the back of her mind was telling her that he was different somehow, that the situation had changed. She found herself breaking her lock on Sephiroth's eyes to look at Vincent.
When she had first met the man she had feared him and had lashed out at him to hide her unease. His glowing, crimson eyes and his dark, unruly hair had made him look inhuman. The pale skin had reminded her of the vampire stories she had heard as a child. Even his solemn, reclusive attitude had made her anxious and distrusting. Despite her negative opinion of him, he proved himself a valuable ally. Quiet, but polite. Occasionally he would voice his own opinions or give the group advice; his ideas sound enough to even influence Cloud's decisions. In battle his marksmanship was unmatched, his unnatural abilities made him incredibly strong and agile, and his sense of strategy was keen. His transformations were terrible and powerful, but never had they turned on his allies and Tifa could not help but admire his control. She learned to trust him and their years together had strengthened that trust. Though she barely knew more about him than she had at their first meeting, she had come to think of him as a good friend, someone she could talk to and rely on.
He had told her he believed in Sephiroth and she wanted to trust him, but her loathing for the once-hero was holding her back. It had eaten at her for so long, she just could not let go. She almost did not want to let it go; she wanted to be angry, she wanted to dislike and distrust. Sephiroth had destroyed everything that mattered to her, she did not want to forgive.
What a horrible emotion hatred was, great enough to overpower the love she had for her friends.
She was painfully aware the silence between the two of them had become pregnant and uncomfortable, at least on her end. Sephiroth had turned his attention back to Vincent, his fingers combing through the man's dark hair slowly. The ex-general looked pensive, Tifa thought the scene was strangely tranquil. She wanted to say something, but could not think of anything to say.
A high whistle broke the silence for her and she started. It took her a few moments to remember the kettle she had set on the stove what seemed like ages ago. She moved from the doorway into the hall and coughed uncertainly. She watched Sephiroth and Vincent a moment longer. If she could find it in herself to at least try... "Breakfast is in the kitchen. There's also coffee and tea if you want," she said quickly and pivoted with her plate clutched tightly in her hands.
"Thank you."
She glanced into the room one last time and could see Sephiroth's luminescent eyes in the darkness slide from her back to Vincent. Tifa pursed her lips and gave him a curt nod before walking back to the kitchen.
–
"Excellent as always, Tifa," Cloud smiled at her briefly, then graced Sephiroth with another venomous glare. Sephiroth took another sip of his coffee and ignored him.
She smiled back. "They're just eggs." She turned to Vincent. "Sleep well, Vincent?"
He nodded, narrowing his eyes as Sephiroth stole one of his toast slices. "Yes, I feel quite well rested."
"That's good, but I was thinking... It was really terrible of me to make you guys sleep on the floor." Guilt blossomed in her chest, Cloud was not going to be happy with what she was going to say next. "You guys should take Cloud's room."
"What?"
Vincent blinked. "That really wouldn't be necessary."
"No, I insist! I don't want you to think my hospitality is limited to making my guests sleep on hardwood floors, Vincent. It's not like Cloud ever really sleeps in there anyway."
Cloud looked outraged. "I'm sleeping in there now!"
She shot him look and he gave her one back. Really she was just trying to avoid a repeat of this morning. Giving Vincent and Sephiroth a room would give them some privacy and she wouldn't have to walk in on any more... intimate moments.
"What's wrong, Cloud? Is there something in that room you're trying to hide?" Sephiroth asked, amused and mildly curious.
"W-what? No! I just don't want homicidal maniacs in my bedroom," he growled and their glaring contest started once again.
Vincent ate his eggs slowly, seemingly oblivious to the arguing around him. Tifa groaned and pressed her forehead against the cold table. It was going to be a long day.
Title: Weekdays are Schooldays (Chapter 1)
Rating: Higher rating eventually. Chapter rating PG.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Sephiroth/Vincent
Summary: AU. Once upon a time, two lonely boys met in a kindergarten classroom. They've been best friends ever since.
Other Chapters:
Original Post Date: 5-19-2009
Disclaimer: The author does not own the characters of Final Fantasy VII.
—
Chapter 1
It was his very first day of school and Sephiroth already hated it. The kindergarten classroom was full of other children, each of them with a bright smile on their face, and he was alone; sitting at an empty table while the others laughed and played. None of the other children had spoke to him. Hardly any of them had even spared him a glance. Even the teacher was content to sit at her desk and do whatever it was kindergarten teachers did, unconcernede about one of her students suffering by himself in a corner of the classroom.
Sephiroth had never been to preschool. "Preschool is a waste of time!" his father had said. "All the little brats ever do is take naps and color." Perhaps it was true, but Sephiroth was staring longingly at the other children now. They had gone to preschool. They had met each other there and now they were all friends. Sephiroth was the odd one out.
His face grew determined and he stood, eyes set on a small group playing with multicolored building blocks on the carpeted floor. He approached them slowly, like he was trying to catch a pigeon not yet aware of his presence. Slowly so he wouldn't scare them away.
When he was upon them, the children turned. Sephiroth smiled at them hopefully but they did not return the gesture. His smile fell when he saw the fear birth in their eyes as they looked into his own unnatural pair. They shared meaningful looks with each other before leaving him without a word. He was alone once more.
It hurt. He had reached out to them and they had rejected him and it hurt. It was like when he had tripped and cut his finger, only the feeling was in his chest now instead of his hand. It made his eyes water and he felt sad but the sadness and the pain was suddenly drowned under a wave of anger. He hated kindergarten. He hated the other children. He hated his stupid, ugly eyes. He hated his father for never letting him go to preschool. The silver-haired boy glared moodily at the abandoned blocks on the ground, not bothering to stop the thoughts raging in his mind.
But then, just as Sephiroth thought he was going to burst from all the anger building in his chest, someone sat on the floor next to him. He turned, surprised, and found himself staring into eyes that were bright and red, like cherry-flavored candy, and nearly as unusual as his own. The eyes were incredibly serene and Sephiroth felt all the frustration rush out of him. The face that went with the eyes wasn't twisted in fear or unease, all Sephiroth could see was curiosity, and for that he was extremely grateful.
"Can I play here too?" the red-eyed boy asked Sephiroth shyly. Sephiroth replied with an eager, almost desperate nod. The other boy smiled kindly and Sephiroth's face burned. He was oddly relieved when the brunet turned away from him to examine the building blocks.
"I'm Sephiroth," Sephiroth said suddenly and the other boy turned his head to look at him, startled by his outburst.
"I'm Vincent," the smaller boy replied with another smile. Sephiroth nodded and began to stack the tiny blocks on top of each other, grinning to himself all the while. He was beginning to think school might not be so bad.
They built their block towers side-by-side. Sephiroth's tower was tall and precarious while Vincent's was small, but study. Occasionally they would ask the other for a wooden block politely, but beyond that it was relatively quiet. Neither boy minded, both were just glad to have made a friend.
After some time, a blond boy wandered over to the pair and began taking blocks from the small pile Vincent had gathered neatly near his tower. Sephiroth watched the boy, wanting to say something but Vincent didn't seem bothered so he did nothing. At least he did, until the blue-eyed boy grabbed a green, triangular block out of Vincent's hand just as Sephiroth's dark-haired friend was about to top his tower with it. Vincent made a small noise of protest when the blond began to walk away. At the noise Sephiroth stood and quickly caught up with the blond before giving him a none too gentle shove.
The other boy fell to the floor with a cry, dropping the triangular block as he hit the ground. Sephiroth picked up the block and handed it back to Vincent who stared at him in surprise, but took the offered block thankfully. "Thank you," Vincent said, bowing his head politely. Sephiroth simply nodded. No one was going to mess with his newest (and only) friend.
"Sephiroth!" the green-eyed boy looked up at the sound of the teacher's voice. She frowned at him disapprovingly as she helped the blond back up to his feet. "Don't you have something to say to Cloud?"
Sephiroth looked at Cloud, the boy's blue eyes were brimming with tears. "Yes," Sephiroth said. "Either learn to ask or learn to share, idiot."
Cloud and his group of friends were sending him dirty looks from the far side of the table, but Sephiroth was indifferent to their dislike. He was more than happy with one friend, all the other children were no longer worth his attention.
He unzipped his lunchbox and was disappointed to find only an empty water bottle and a less-than-half-made sandwich inside it. He remembered now, how his mother had begun to make his lunch that morning and then his father had started yelling...
Vincent slipped onto the bench beside Sephiroth. He reached into his red lunchbox and pulled out a sandwich cut neatly into halves and a tupperware box filled with apple slices. His pale hands placed the items neatly on the table near Sephiroth.
"You can have some if you like," Vincent said, taking half of his sandwich and leaving the rest for Sephiroth.
Sephiroth took an apple slice hesitantly and took a bite. His eyes widened. "Best apple ever," he told Vincent as he chewed. Vincent just smiled and nodded.
They spent the rest of their lunch in a comfortable and enjoyable silence.
"Grimoire Valentine. Wasn't expecting to see you here," a cool drawl said from behind Grimoire.
"Ah, Simon Hojo, it's good to see you," Grimoire hoped he sounded at least somewhat convincing, though even he could hear the strain in his own voice. He suddenly spotted the woman behind the scientist and smiled, "And Lucrecia as well. It's been too long."
"Or not long enough," Hojo muttered under his breath. "So what are you doing here at Midgar Elementary, Valentine? Hoped you might learn something?" he said at a regular volume.
"It's my son, Vincent's, first day of school."
"Is that so? It's Sephiroth's first day as well."
"Oh? I didn't realize the two of you had a child."
"Yes," Hojo said without affection. "And there he is now."
The silver hair was easy to pick out in the river of children flowing out of the building. The boy at Sephiroth's side Hojo didn't recognize, but the dark hair and red eyes were unpleasantly familiar...
"And there's my Vincent," Grimoire said happily, waving his hand so that Vincent could see him. Hojo rolled his eyes at the display though he was minutely grateful the two boys were able to find them quickly. The sooner he left, the sooner he could get back to the lab. Valentine's son, of all the people Sephiroth could have befriended... Sharp black eyes darted around the yard and Hojo's thin lips curled at the loud, obnoxious children playing on the grass. Then again, he supposed the boy could have done worse.
The instant Sephiroth was at his side, Hojo turned and began to make his way back to the car. "Hurry up, we're leaving." Lucrecia sent Grimoire a tiny, parting nod and followed after her husband, but Sephiroth stayed where he was, gazing at Vincent.
He smiled, suddenly shy and gave the brunet a small wave. "See you tomorrow, Vincent."
Vincent looked equally shy from his spot next to his father. "See you tomorrow."
Sephiroth left the dark-haired pair and walked towards the dark car that would take him home, feeling the happier than he had in a long time.
Title: Until We Meet Again (Chapter 7: To Meet Again)
Rating: R-ish overall. Chapter rating PG.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Sephiroth/Vincent
Summary: Though their time together was brief, they met time and time again. A relationship with history.
Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
Original Post Date: Between 11-10-2008 and 12-29-2008
Disclaimer: Hasn't changed. All definitions were taken from the Oxford American Dictionary program on my computer.
—
Chapter 7: To Meet Again
The sun was bright against his eyes when he stepped out of the darkness of the cave. The sound of the nearby waterfall's rushing water thundered in his ears pleasantly and Vincent allowed himself a soft sigh. Lucrecia had long since quieted, but he continued to visit the secluded cave; it was the perfect spot for Vincent to be alone with his thoughts, far away from the noises of the city and the prying eyes and ears of his friends. He walked to the very edge of the cliff and gazed out at the lake below and the expansive sea beyond. His pale face was passive, but content; his barriers dropping just slightly. Even the murmurs in his mind were somewhat calm in the tranquility of the secluded lake.
"What a sight..." a voice said suddenly to his left.
Vincent whirled in alarm, his eyes wide. Had he been so absorbed in his moment of peace he had not even sensed this person approach? Red eyes widened even further as they were drawn to the long stream of silver hair billowing behind the tall, leather-clad form standing at his side. Intense green eyes bore into his own startled gaze, their cat-like pupils dilated in the sunlight. Vincent pulled his gun from his thigh holster out of pure reflex, years of fighting pale-haired men putting him immediately on edge. The movement was fast, but the instant his barrel was level with the handsome face, the glinting metal of a wickedly sharp blade was at his neck. The two men stared at each other calmly. There was tension in the air, but there was more curiosity than anything else.
Vincent cocked his head slightly, his lips just barely visible over the high collar of his cloak, "We killed you."
Sephiroth smirked, amusement glittering darkly in his eyes. "So you did."
A fine black eyebrow arched. "More than once."
Sephiroth shrugged his broad, armored shoulders, but his blade never left Vincent's neck. "I plunged into the Lifestream only to have it spit me back out at the Northern Crater. I got killed at the Northern Crater and returned to the Lifestream, then I got resurrected just long enough for Jenova to take over my mind and get me killed again," he spoke the last part in a voice that hinted at exasperation, but was otherwise emotionless. Bright, green eyes narrowed, "and here I am before you now. I have a hard time staying dead it would seem... What will become of this encounter I wonder?"
Hope was rising in Vincent's chest, but he contained it. This did not sound like the madman AVALANCHE had fought years before, a man who had spoken of deranged plans and had referred to Jenova only as "Mother". Staring into his eyes, Vincent almost felt like he was talking to the small bright-eyed child he had known deep in the lab of the Shinra Manor. Though the warm innocence of childhood had been replaced by something much darker, the eyes before him were clear, devoid of insanity; and despite part of his mind telling him to remain on guard, he lowered his weapon slowly. To his surprise, Sephiroth did the same, his masamune vanishing from sight.
"...Sephiroth?" Vincent asked softly, his hope just barely threading its way into his voice.
Their eyes were locked onto each other, both pairs watching unblinkingly. Sephiroth's shining head inclined slightly in affirmation.
Suddenly there was barely an inch between them. An arm slipped around Vincent's waist and Vincent let his own arms do the same to the man before him. He could feel Sephiroth's warm breath against his hair and the solidity of the body against his. The man exuded power, and though Sephiroth was not much taller than him, Vincent suddenly felt rather small. Red eyes slipped halfway closed as he surrendered himself to the embrace. It was almost ironic, he thought, that he had once held Sephiroth's body against his chest like this when he had been young. He had sung quiet songs to ease the boy into sleep and stroked his hair, like a mother would for her child. His lips slipped into a small smile, Sephiroth was no child anymore, he was no doubt too old for that sort of thing. The arm around his waist tightened slightly, as if to remind him just how far from an innocent child the man was. There was something akin to possessiveness, in the embrace, but it was subtle. A part of his mind was telling Vincent he was a fool for being so trusting, that relying on his emotions had only worked against him in the past. He knew there was substance to his doubts, but he ignored them. Vincent wanted to believe that somewhere in Sephiroth there was still a part of him that had remained untouched by Jenova, some part of his personality that was still intact.
Sephiroth slipped his gloved fingers around a lock of black hair and watched it slide and shine pensively. Feelings were rising inside him, ones he recognized from past moments he had spent with Vincent. He had learned many words and definitions over the years, but he had never found the right word for what he felt. "Caring" seemed too mild, "kindness" was related, but was not what he was looking for, "fondness" was certainly present, but still too mild. He remembered once, when he had been a teenager, someone had tried to explain "love" to him. It had been in the dictionary: love. Noun. A feeling of deep affection. There was brotherly love, puppy love, the love one had for one's parents, love between romantically involved peoples, and the list went on. Sephiroth considered them all to be the same thing; affection was affection as far as he was concerned. Affection. Noun. A gentle feeling of fondness or liking. What he felt was much more intense than "deep affection". If they were such gentle feelings why had witnessing Vincent's torture at the hands of Hojo produced such agony in his chest, why had seeing scores of scientists hurting Vincent inspired the desperate desire for violence it had. Why had he felt such sorrow when discovering Vincent in the basement of the Shinra Manor.
Recalling the Manor he spoke abruptly, "Chaos. A creature created by the Planet, similar to the way the Planet created the WEAPONs." He could feel Vincent shift against him slightly and pressed on. "The files in the Manor's library mentioned the creatures inside you." His eyes narrowed. "When Jenova had first traveled across space and crashed into the Planet, the Planet became sick as a result of the alien virus's corruption. As the body's first reaction to a foreign subject is rejection, so too is the Planet's, perhaps it is because our bodies are products of the Planet we react this way." Sephiroth brushed his face against Vincent's long, unruly hair. The movement was strangely calming. "Because the creature within you is so closely related to the Planet, it is only natural you would repel and reject such an alien substance so violently."
The voices shifted in his mind and Vincent nodded, accepting the explanation. He could feel Chaos twisting in irritation at the mention of Jenova, but Vincent was unconcerned. Many years with his voices had made him quite used to their moods and behaviors.
"I am glad," Sephiroth said softly, and though Vincent waited, Sephiroth offered no further explaination. Sephiroth supposed it was fortunate, if being forced to share your body with a number of beasts could be called such a thing, that Vincent had been able to quiet Jenova's voice with his presence. Now there was no need, Jenova no longer spoke or murmured, though he was not sure if it was because she was dead or merely dormant. Even so, the brief moments of peace he had experienced with the man due to Vincent's voices had only deepened his fondness of him and had made their time together that much more significant. It was only a shame they had been forced away from each other in the past. Cold fury was building in his chest and he closed his eyes, but the darkness only calmed him only slightly. "Never again," he growled. "There is no Hojo, no Jenova, nothing left to keep us apart."
He suddenly wanted to take the man in his arms and cage him cruelly, to keep him in his sights at all times and to make sure no one would ever be able to steal him away. It would be so easy, even with the layers of clothing the man wore, Sephiroth could feel how slight Vincent was. It was a deceptive frailty, he knew, but the man's weak, slender frame was coaxing an increasing amount of wicked thoughts from the darker portions of his mind. He tightened his grip on Vincent, where were these ideas coming from? Such darkness had rooted itself in his soul he no longer knew if it was part of the taint brought forth by Jenova or a part of his original personality. Even without Jenova's voice he could feel an underlying desire to harm and possess, a certain thirst for power, to take and take and never give back.
"Sephiroth?" Vincent asked. Sephiroth was rigid, his breathing heavy. He couldn't see Sephiroth's face, but something was obviously wrong.
A growl sounded low in his throat and Sephiroth combed his hand through Vincent's dark hair before fisting it. The pale man tensed in his arms at the mild pain. Sephiroth could tell Vincent was quickly becoming uncomfortable and a part of him writhed in vicious pleasure. He pressed his lips against Vincent's neck, just below his ear. How would the man react to a bite, he wondered giddily.
No.
Sephiroth forced his dark musings back. Where his teeth had been grazing Vincent's neck for the bite, he instead pressed a chaste kiss and took his face away from the pale skin. Finally he and Vincent had a chance at something, with no one in their way. He would be damned if he let his own twisted thoughts be an obstacle. A new weight had been placed on his shoulders and he felt suddenly frustrated and tired. There always seemed to be something, some sort of problem trying to prevent him from doing what he really wanted. He pulled back from Vincent and looked into his red eyes. There was uncertainty there, but when Sephiroth pushed the high collar of Vincent's cloak down and took the dark-haired man's chin between two fingers, Vincent did not flinch. His heart gave an odd twist and a small amount of confidence sprouted in his chest. He brought the pale face close, Sephiroth's long silver bangs ghosting over Vincent's cheeks and shoulders. Green eyes were sharp and determined.
"Never again. Never will anything come between us." His words were spoken in a sure, steady voice and the kiss he pressed against Vincent's pale, pliant lips was firm. Sephiroth could feel the coming of a new beginning and a distinct light-heartedness settled itself inside him.
Beneath the confident front, doubts danced with dark thoughts in the unnerving silence of his mind.
Title: Until We Meet Again (Chapter 6: Gods Have Fallen)
Rating: R-ish overall. Chapter rating PG-13.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Sephiroth/Vincent
Summary: Though their time together was brief, they met time and time again. A relationship with history.
Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
Original Post Date: Between 11-10-2008 and 12-29-2008
Disclaimer: Hasn't changed.
—
Chapter 6: Gods Have Fallen
Absolute power was such a wonderful feeling. He could feel it flowing through his body and flooding his mind, churning in his very core and tingling in his fingertips. Sephiroth grinned as he slashed through the air with one of his many powerful wings, the sharp wind knocking his target onto her back. He could see her frightened, but determined face through her long brown bangs and his grin widened. Magic rushed into his hand as he focused the energy into a Shadow Flare attack, he would destroy the woman effortlessly and he would watch her friends grieve with a smile on his face. Humans were such pitiful creatures.
Just as he released the magic, a shining, multicolored glow engulfed the woman and a blonde blur forced itself between the attack and the fallen figure. The dark light of the flare swallowed the area, but when the spell faded the two humans were still there. Sephiroth smirked at the closer of the two and angry blue eyes locked with his own green ones. The blonde before him shifted into an offensive stance immediately, holding his giant sword in his hands menacingly. Cloud launched into the air, dead-set on slicing Sephiroth's arrogant smirk right off of his face, only to be thrown back unexpectedly. Cloud growled as he watched the magical barrier gleam in Sephiroth's own angelic radiance before fading from sight once more.
Sephiroth smiled, amused. He wanted to see if he could manipulate the blonde again, he had been so horribly easy to control at the Forgotten Capital, but he could barely sense the Jenova cells in the boy. In fact, his mother's lilting voice in his own mind had weakened significantly and Sephiroth had no doubt it had something to do with the little band of humans before him now. He could feel her fury sweep through him, feeding his own anger.
Somewhere above the weak murmuring he heard her voice, Destroyed my SYNTHESIS form... she rasped. Kill... Kill them all!
He did not hesitate to comply. A broad-shouldered man with light blonde hair and a cigarette hanging from his lips sprinted from behind Cloud and jumped into the air, a large spear poised above his head. At the same time, Sephiroth spotted a young, skinny girl throwing what seemed to be an oversized pinwheel in his direction. With a flick of his wrist, Sephiroth deflected both easily and rose into the air out of their reach. The wind picked up around him, whipping his long hair behind his winged form sharply. Mad green eyes narrowed in concentration as Sephiroth summoned another attack, a force of pure destruction. His mother's voice was laughing madly somewhere deep in his mind and Sephiroth himself chuckled softly once his summon had reached its full power. The deadly magic of his super nova rocked the earth beneath the band of would-be heroes and the bright light of the explosion made even Sephiroth squint for a moment in its brilliance.
He quickly recovered his sight and in an instant summoned another powerful magic attack. A bolder materialized above the fallen, but still moving form of Cloud Strife. With a rapid downwards movement of Sephiroth's hand, the bolder dropped and shattered on the man's broken body. The blonde lay motionless on the ground, anguished cries and concerned yells chorused from the blonde's companions. The humans were quite obviously exhausted but they still ran towards their fallen leader.
Sephiroth almost laughed at the tiny figures racing below him like ants. So predictable humans were, so pathetically weak with emotion... He snarled. A violent slash with his wings sent the brightly colored wolf-lion flying and Pale Horse spell incapacitated another. Jenova cawed gleefully and Sephiroth floated closer to the ground to better see the humans' distress. Sadistic giddiness coursed through him as he watched them try to both heal their comrade and defend against the godlike being before them.
He twisted suddenly as a presence materialized to his right. Sephiroth let loose another strong flap of his wings, a sharp gust of wind cutting through the air. Sephiroth let the momentum propel him backwards away from the dark figure. A swirl of red cloth caught his eye briefly before the form and the presence disappeared once more. He was mildly impressed. Whoever or whatever the red mass was, they were certainly much faster than the rest of AVALANCHE.
A shriek rose in his mind and he paused. Jenova's voice hissed from the murmur, Kill it, kill it. Evil creature needs to die...
Sephiroth lashed out with his mind and telekinetic energy shot out of him in a violent wave. A soft grunt found his ears and another psychic blast was released in the direction of the noise. As he let the attack go, Sephiroth turned. Red locked with green and Sephiroth could hear the already weak voice of his mother fade to near nothingness. He stopped his spell mid-cast, his eyes wide as they watched the cloaked figure fall back to the ground. Metal-tipped boots clinked lightly as they met the hard-packed dirt, long legs straightened from their landing crouch. Sephiroth could only stare as he took in the familiar fall of dark hair, the ivory skin. The outfit he had only seen once, in a dark room as the slim form had lain in the deep silk lining of a coffin.
"Vincent," Sephiroth whispered hoarsely. Madness was quickly fading, his mind quieter than he could ever remember. Jenova's presence was almost non-existent, her voice not even a whisper in his mind, she had become so weak. It was almost alarming to suddenly be so in control again, to be himself. Slowly he began to realize just how insane the situation was. His body morphed into something almost beyond recognition, the presence of Meteor in the distance pressing against his mind, Jenova's demented plan in motion. He did not want this...
A sudden pain shocked him out of thought, glancing back at the ground he could see that AVALANCHE had regrouped, Cloud was back on his feet, if only barely. Conformer was circling back to its owner, Barret held his gunarm up and ready, fists were raised, stances locked. Sephiroth could feel his body healing by will of the Jenova cells inside him, but he fought. The group of heroes were on the attack once more, bullets were flying, spells were being cast. Sephiroth could feel his barriers breaking under the barrage, but made no effort to recast the spells. Instead he resisted his body's natural response to the wounds, he willed them open and the harder he willed, the slower they healed. Bright red eyes were watching him from over a high collar.
A gloved right hand lifted, the Death Penalty suddenly heavy in Vincent's hand. He lined up the sight of his rifle with Sephiroth's chest, his finger on the trigger. On the surface, Vincent was as calm and emotionless as always, but inside he felt only sorrow, misery flooding his heart and his mind. His hand was trembling, the murmur quiet. His friends were fighting with all they had left and here he was hesitating. Staring into Sephiroth's green eyes he saw none of the man's earlier madness, only acceptance. Vincent released an unsteady breath and squeezed.
The gunshot was loud, sounding even over the machine gun fire of Barret's gunarm and the furious spell casting of AVALANCHE. Sephiroth's barriers were gone and the bullet buried itself into his exposed chest and through his heart. It hurt like nothing Sephiroth had ever experienced, so rare it was he actually managed to get injured, but still he continued to will his body to stop fighting. His heart pulsed futilely, blood flowing from his chest at every beat. Jenova remained quiet and Sephiroth could feel himself fading rapidly. He continued to gaze at Vincent, how badly it hurt, but Sephiroth felt strangely free. His wings were crumbling, his halo fading, the call of the Lifestream close and welcoming. He let go.
AVALANCHE stood firmly, the only sound their own heavy breathing. They watched as the angelic figure disintegrated, unsure if it was the beginnings of another attack or the actual death of the madman. When the last pieces faded they waited, tense. After a long stretch of quiet the gazed at each other, eyes full of mixed emotions and uncertainty.
"Did we do it?" Cait Sith asked, sounding doubtful.
Cloud turned, breaths still coming out in pants, "I... I think we did."
The was a silent moment before a loud, joyous wave of noise swept over the group. The earth quaked suddenly and happy noises turned into surprised shouts. AVALANCHE quickly began to make their way out of the unstable area, their celebration put on hold.
No one noticed Vincent Valentine standing motionless, his rifle hanging limply at his side, and tears running silently down his pale cheeks.
Title: Until We Meet Again (Chapter 5: And After the Voices There is Madness)
Rating: R-ish overall. Chapter rating PG-13.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Sephiroth/Vincent
Summary: Though their time together was brief, they met time and time again. A relationship with history.
Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
Original Post Date: Between 11-10-2008 and 12-29-2008
Disclaimer: Hasn't changed.
—
Chapter 5: And After the Voices There is Madness
Sephiroth narrowed his bright, green eyes as the pain in his head sharpened. A black hand rose and touched his temple, but did nothing more. The General never showed weakness, even if it was for something as small has a headache. The murmur twittered gleefully in his mind, the lilting voice light and happy. Jenova had been unusually cheerful ever since he had walked into Nibelheim, almost as if she was excited about something. Sephiroth had long grown used to the voice of his mother, she had been with him for as long as he could remember. Hojo had once told him his mother had died during childbirth and Sephiroth had decided her presence was her way of watching over him in death. He thought the idea was oddly sentimental since he had never been one to come up with such romantic thoughts, but his mother had encouraged the idea so he had never questioned it.
His head throbbed again and he tried to ignore it. Regardless of how used to Jenova's voice he was, her recent activity was wearing on his mind. He stared unseeingly out of the window before him, the town was calm and quiet in the darkness of the night. Since his arrival his dreams had become more frequent. Dreams of warmth, long-fingered hands, and eyes like rubies that glowed faintly in the darkness of his mind. Sephiroth could feel frustration rise within him, no matter how frequent the dreams had become he still could not remember the owner of those captivating eyes. Beneath the irritation, Sephiroth was filled with a deep sadness for reasons he did not understand. Perhaps those eyes were part of the mysterious past he could not remember, Sephiroth's eyes narrowed even further at the thought, slivers of green on his face. How puzzling it was, he mused, that he could not remember anything before his SOLDIER training in Shinra; how his first memory was of him practicing combat techniques, a sword in his small hands.
Somehow the general believed the cold Professor Hojo had something to do with his lack of a past. The insane man was the only one who seemed to know anything about Sephiroth, a fact that bothered the general deeply and made his dislike for the scientist grow. Somehow the lose ends of his past could always be traced back to the professor... but Sephiroth thought no more of it as his head gave another curious throb.
Heavy footfalls sounded on the hardwood floor behind him, but the presence was not threatening so Sephiroth did not turn.
"Everything all right General?" Zack asked, his blue eyes staring at the back of Sephiroth's head curiously.
Sephiroth almost smiled in dark humor but gazed out the large window instead. No, everything was not all right, it was never all right. "Fine," he replied, voice calm and emotionless.
Zack frowned slightly. He liked to think that he and the general were friends, though the man was usually cold and aloof. Even at his friendliest Sephiroth was distant, as if he were unable to allow himself the openness of a friendly relationship. Zack's naturally affectionate personality wanted to help the General in some way, but his logical mind him back. Sephiroth probably would not appreciate someone trying to force their way into his personal problems. How lonely he must be, Zack thought, sorrow twisting unpleasantly in his stomach.
"Well you might want to get to bed sometime before five," he said cheerfully, making his way back to the beds quietly. " 'Gonna be a long day tomorrow..."
Sephiroth nodded in agreement, sparing one last look out of the dark window before turning away and walking towards his bed. He noticed with faint amusement Zack, already sprawled on dark red sheets, snoring peacefully into his pillow. The general slipped out of his clothes and boots, leather creaking as it bent, and placed them on a small wooden chair. He slid beneath his covers soundlessly and rested his head against the fluffy, white pillow. Sephiroth closed his eyes and attempted to go to sleep, but thoughts were still rushing through his head. Hojo's cruel smile drifted in and out of the darkness and the small houses of Nibelheim were floating before his eyes. Sephiroth shifted. It was strange, this feeling, like he had been in this small mountain village before...
Soft hands slid over his head and the lilting voice of his mother rose in his mind. Above the constant murmur he could hear a slow lullaby, the tune easing his the tension in his body and brushing his thoughts off into the blackness. Immediately, Sephiroth could feel himself slipping into the peace of sleep. How familiar this lullaby was, so soft and calming. Of course it was familiar, his mother sang it to him every night, the song never failing to make him feel relaxed and content. Somewhere a part of him protested, no that was not right. He knew this song from somewhere else.
Finally Sephiroth succumbed to sleep. The hands of his mother grew longer, warmer and the lilting voice became suddenly low and soft. Shining red eyes hovered in the darkness, just out of his reach, and as he stretched his arm toward them they would retreat farther into the darkness. The lullaby became louder and Sephiroth cried out to the eyes in a voice that was high and uncertain, his hands were small and pale...
Sephiroth turned over uneasily in his sleep.
The reactor was oddly warm, its heat just milder than that of a boiler's. Sephiroth's bright eyes brushed over the various mako containers, their rusty color dark in the reactor's poor lighting. He and Zack had already found and solved the reactor's loose valve problem. It seemed unnecessary that two Firsts had been needed for such a simple job, even with the presence of the dragon from yesterday. The general's eyes stopped at door near the top of the room's stairs. Just above it, in dark red text, was a name: JENOVA. The murmur in his mind picked up just slightly, the presence coiled in his mind. A room labeled with the name of his mother, surely it was no coincidence. Jenova was not a common name.
A voice to his right yelled suddenly and he whipped around to see Zack on the floor, blue eyes wide and staring. Sephiroth walked to his side quickly, he did not even have to ask what was wrong before his companion's voice came out stuttering and uncertain.
"There... there was something inside..." Zack said. He got up quickly trying to hide his embarrassment, such behavior from a First Class SOLDIER was ridiculous and in front of the General no less.
Sephiroth made his way over to the small window of the mako container and lifted himself easily to peer inside. His eyes widened as he found a figure inside with an almost human face. Its eyes were wide and pupil-less, its mouth open in a soundless scream. Sephiroth analyzed its features quickly with a calm sort of detachment. It had probably been human at some point in time... He dropped back down to the metal grate of the floor, his boots thudding loudly on the warm surface. He could think of only one person mad enough to do something so horrible, "Hojo... No doubt these creatures used to be human."
Zack gasped, he knew that name. Professor Hojo, the head of the Science Department. He had heard rumors about both the man's brilliance and his madness. The soldier was not naïve, he knew that his company was far from innocent but this... thiswas too much. "The President could not have allowed something this extreme! Turning humans into monsters..."
Sephiroth wanted to answer but the mumbling was growing louder. Zack's voice was fading and darkness was beginning to eat at his vision. Images floated up from the noise and confusion. Cold operating tables. Dark hardwood floor. The hum of machines somewhere in the blackness and a soft green glow he recognized as mako. He trembled as he felt needles sinking into the skin of his arms, cold hands held his small, convulsing body to the frigid metal of the table beneath him. His hands were clutching his head, the images were so familiar. Sephiroth released a shuddering breath and groaned, "No..."
Zack was staring at his general, frozen. Never had he seen Sephiroth like this, his emotions were obvious on his face, so open and vulnerable. He did not know what to do or how to help, the general was shaking his head in denial.
"Could... could I be..." Sephiroth shook, no it was not possible. He was not some... monster, he was human. He had always been human. "Am I like... them? I knew I had always been different..." Yes, in a way it made sense. His strength, his intellect... he had always been so far above everyone he had met.
Was he human? No... The voices shifted and murmured excitedly. He was not human, he was something far superior... The visions suddenly stopped and his mind cleared, the only thing he could hear was the high, lilting voice in his mind. He lifted his eyes. Zack was staring at him, eyes full of concern, his mouth moving but no sound was coming out. Green eyes darted away from the soldier, to the room labeled JENOVA. The voices grew louder and louder, he felt suddenly drawn to the room, something was calling him...
The sound of metal hitting metal abruptly pierced through his mind. Somewhere, in one of the dark corners of the room rose a terrible scream. A blue, humanoid figure stepped into the open before falling to the floor. Its muscles twitched and convulsed uselessly, a pained groan spilled from its purple lips as liquid mako leaked from the container and streamed over the platform.
Sephiroth fought the pull on his mind and turned from the labeled door. His head throbbed and tremors were still rolling through his body. He needed to get out. His new memories gnawed at his mind, but he pushed them away. Black boots pounded the metal floor as he walked briskly to the exit, barely registering Zack trailing a short distance behind him.
He had to know. Jenova, sensing his urge, pulled him towards the looming Shinra mansion. Sephiroth had raced into the building the second they had reentered the town, unconcerned with the worried glances he received from his companies, but glad they had not followed him.
His feet carried him through the manor's empty hallways as if they knew where they were going. Cat eyes combed the dark rooms and floral wallpaper, how familiar this place was. Down the rotting, spiral staircase he went, past more dark hallways and closed doors. His quick pace paused briefly as more memories rose from the darkness. A mako tank filled with glowing green liquid. Long, dark hair floating in the luminescent mako, surrounding a pale face. Bright, red eyes. Sephiroth gasped and stumbled, panting as he gazed wide-eyed at the dark floor. He regained his composure quickly, he needed to know.
Zack paced the length of the room for what seemed like the hundredth time. Anxiety had burrowed itself what seemed like a permanent hole in his heart and made him chew his lips nervously. His gaze went from the light brown wood of the floor to the open window and back. Certainly the general should have been back by now, maybe he should have followed him into the manor. What if something horrible had happened? Sephiroth had seemed so unstable at the reactor...
A small, worried voice drifted to his ears, "Is everything okay, Zack?"
The First paused and sighed. "I don't know."
"Is... the General going to be okay?"
Zack closed his eyes, grateful his back was facing the grunts instead of his face. "I don't know, Cloud... I just don't know."
He knew. He knew everything, all they had tried to keep hidden from him. Sephiroth had found the mansion's library and, with his mother guiding him, had picked out all the books regarding him and his mother.
"We have finally found one," he read aloud. "An Ancient, an actual member of the Cetra. She is called Jenova..." In his mind the voices twisted angrily. Sephiroth assumed his mother was angry about being found by such foolish humans and found himself suddenly furious as well. Such stupid and barbaric creatures, humans. How they had taken advantage of his mother's weakened state. How they had stolen the planet from its true owners.
Deep in his mind he thought he heard the lilting voice speak. Let him think, let him think... think we are Cetra... Not Cetra... Let him think we are Cetra... But the words were so faint he dismissed them, his mother's anger had captured all of his attention and he let her pull him towards more books, more records of the horrible deeds of humans.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a file jutting from the bookcase. His mother tried to discourage him, but curiosity won out. A gloved hand closed around the manila folder and pulled it from the shelf. The file was thick and worn, heavy in his large hand and he flipped the first page open, intrigued. Hojo's near-unintelligible handwriting caught his interest immediately. Though the lab had once belonged to Hojo, he had so far found very few of the man's own files in the library. He flipped a page and stopped, his eyes wide as he studied the large black-and-white picture he found. A young man with his eyes closed, dark hair spilling across the table he was laid out on, lips parted slightly. Sephiroth lifted his hand and touched the photograph with gloved fingers. He did not need color to know what the man would look like in the real world... Hair black and inky, skin paler then even Sephiroth's own, and eyes red as blood. Sephiroth flipped the photo over and found two words: Vincent Valentine. He mouthed the name to himself silently, Vincent. Pain settled itself in his chest, how could he have possibly forgotten? Vincent floating in a tank full of mako. Vincent holding his small body close and running his hands through his hair, singing to him softly in his wonderful, quiet voice. The general flipped through the file desperately, horrible pictures of Vincent suffering at the hands of the madman flooding his vision and filling him with a terrible rage. A folded piece of paper caught his attention and he unfolded it deftly with one hand. His glowing eyes scanned the paper quickly, certain words and phrases sticking in his mind '...cleared out an old specimen room...', '... shame I'll have to leave him...', 'the coffin was a nice touch'.
Sephiroth slipped the file gently back into its place on the bookshelf. He stormed out of the library, ignoring the voices' protests and their tugging at his mind. He was certain he knew what specimen room the file had mentioned. Upon finding the door, he hesitated. The door was so old and unused it looked like a part of the wall. He placed a hand on the old wood, thoughts rushing through his head. What if Vincent did not remember him anymore? He suddenly thought about his strange amnesia and his inability to remember Vincent. Some unreasonable part of his mind wondered if Vincent would somehow know how Sephiroth had unwillingly forgotten him. What if Vincent hated him for it? Or what if it all did not matter. It had been such a long time, what if Vincent was... Sephiroth clenched his fists against the door. No. Vincent was strong, he would not go so easily.
He wrapped a gloved hand around the doorknob and pushed with his mind. The door unlocked itself and he opened the old wooden door as he entered the dark room quietly. His eyes cut easily through the darkness, there were coffins scattered around the edges of the room but there was one closed ominously at the center. He approached it and hooked his fingers around the lid, lifting and pushing the lid away effortlessly.
Sephiroth slid to his knees as his eyes fell upon the form in the coffin. The edge of the coffin cut into his side, but he did not notice has he leaned forward to touch the unchanged face of the man sleeping inside. Pale skin almost glowed in the blackness of the room and long, dark hair framed the man's face, barely kept in check by the dark red ribbon wrapped around his head. The black glove of Sephiroth's hand traced the warm, alabaster cheeks and down, his wrist pushing the man's high-collared cloak away and revealing the rest of the pale face to questing eyes. Sephiroth's fingertips brushed pale lips lightly and he briefly wondered if Vincent would sing him soft lullabies once more if he woke him up. He brought the hand back up to touch Vincent's dark hair. Sephiroth wished could take off his gloves so he could feel the man's soft hair between his fingers, just as he had as a child.
"Vincent," he called to the sleeping man softly. He was so full of emotion he was surprised his voice had came out so even. The only emotion he could not hide was a distinct warmth he had not felt for a very long time. A weight suddenly lifted from his shoulders, the voices were muted once more in the presence of the dark haired man. "Vincent," he whispered again.
Vincent's pale eyelids shifted and glowing red eyes opened slightly, clouded from the man's long sleep. He groaned quietly and blinked. The room was dark but the man before him was so bright, he had to let his eyes focus for a few seconds. When he finally took in the long, silver hair and the green, cat-like eyes he gasped. "Sephiroth?" he whispered, voice hoarse from disuse.
Sephiroth smiled at the familiar voice and leaned down a little further. Vincent lifted a gloved right hand to touch the general's face, almost as if he did not believe what he was seeing. Green eyes became half lidded as the hand brushed his cheek, its warmth reaching him even through the dark glove. Sephiroth pressed his face against the hand and sighed quietly, how he had missed the man's soft touch. His eyes roved almost hungrily over Vincent's face and form as Sephiroth desperately took in every little detail he could. Never again would he forget. He would burn this moment into his mind if he had to.
Vincent took his hand away from Sephiroth's face in favor of touching the long silver bangs brushing against his chest. The man's shining hair was so long now and he was so much older than Vincent remembered. His blood colored eyes traced Sephiroth's narrow eyes and strong jaw, how handsome he had become. Sephiroth had always been an interesting child but his unique coloration was much more apparent and attractive at his current age, whatever it was. Vincent wondered briefly, just how long had he been asleep?
The general slipped an arm around the man's waist, the other still buried in Vincent's hair, and leaned forward completely, half of his body inside the coffin. He brought his head against the pale man's warm neck and inhaled his familiar scent. The skin was smooth against his face and the red cloak was surprisingly soft. Sephiroth could hardly remember ever feeling so comfortable, his mind was quiet and Vincent was so soft and warm. "The voices are quiet when you are near..."
Vincent snaked his own clawed arm around the man, careful not to cut him with its sharp tips. His other hand found the back of Sephiroth's head and his fingers combed through the length his hair slowly. He remained quiet though the voices in his mind murmured as always and the cunning one shifted slightly. The voice had given Vincent its name, Chaos, though Chaos had never explained Jenova's strange reaction to his presence.
Sephiroth's low voice was muffled slightly by Vincent's neck and his warm breath brushed against the man's skin. "For a long time I could not remember anything about the lab or Hojo's experiments on me during my childhood. Even you... all I could think of was your eyes and hands. I would dream about them often but I could never think of a name," he admitted quietly. "I think the amnesia might have been engineered by Hojo. I had always thought it was strange that I could never remember anything before my SOLDIER training." Sephiroth had never spoken so much to anyone before, much less something so personal, but this was Vincent. Vincent had made a place for himself in Sephiroth's heart long before the general had built walls around himself and his emotions. He closed his eyes, simply enjoying the feel of Vincent's hands in his hair.
He wanted to stay, he wanted the moment to last, but he could feel Jenova screaming in his mind, more violent than ever. What was left of his own will was being worn away by her desperation. He squeezed Vincent tightly, his chest aching with sorrow and regret. "I'm sorry..." he whispered hoarsely.
Vincent paused in his stroking. "It wasn't your fault," he said lowly, thinking bitterly of Hojo and his madness.
"No," Sephiroth replied, burying his face deeper into the junction between Vincent's neck and shoulder. "It was too hard to fight the voices without you," he whispered miserably. Sephiroth clenched his fingers in Vincent's cloak and hair.
"I want you to fight the voices, even when I'm not around. Okay?"
"I promise."
How easily he had broken his promise to Vincent. Jenova had only needed to mimic Vincent's actions, her love only an imitation of Vincent's genuinely caring motions. Her screeches echoed in her ears and her presence pressed against his mind; he could feel himself giving in. Her will was strong against his own and he could still feel her in the distsance, calling from the room in the back of the mako reactor. A small part of him wanted to resist, but another part of him, the part that had been twisted and manipulated over the length of twenty years was bending to her will once more. His grip on Vincent loosened and his face left the warmth of the man's neck. Sephiroth straightened himself, gazing longingly at Vincent's face and the confusion in the man's eyes. He pressed his left hand against Vincent's chest and he bent forward one last time to press a soft kiss on his brow, quickly calling forth Sleepel magic.
Vincent's eyelids fluttered as the unnatural sleep swept over him, but he fought to stay awake, "Sephiroth..." A black finger pressed against his lips. The familiar darkness was calling him and the voices were both fading and growing louder, a sign that usually meant nightmares were fast approaching. His eyes drifted shut and Vincent relaxed against the soft lining of the coffin. In his mind there was a sudden heat and the sound of snapping and crackling. Smoke filled his nostrils and burned his eyes. Somewhere amongst the flames he thought he saw long, silvery hair but it was quickly swallowed. Vincent shifted restlessly in the heat. He dreamt of fire.
Sephiroth had gone back to the library at Mother's insistence. Somehow Zack had found him there, questioning him with a voice full of concern. What happened after was a blur, but somehow Sephiroth had gotten out of the mansion, which was where he was now, staring out at the small mountain village before him. He would destroy everything. This place would be an example to the humans, to the planet, of what would happen to them for being so cruel to Mother.
He turned away from the mansion. No, Sephiroth thought against the roar in his mind, thinking of the man sleeping deep below the building. No, the mansion would remain. With the last bit of willpower he could muster he stepped away from the manor, fire magic rising within him. The bright, intelligent light of his eyes faded only to be replace with the dark, unholy light of insanity. Jenova murmured happily in his mind, pulling him in the direction of the mountain pass.
Title: Until We Meet Again (Chapter 4: Separation)
Rating: PG-15-ish overall. Chapter rating PG-15 for gore.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Sephiroth/Vincent
Summary: Though their time together was brief, they met time and time again. A relationship with history.
Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
Original Post Date: Between 11-10-2008 and 12-29-2008
Disclaimer: Hasn't changed.
—
Chapter 4: Seperation
Hojo slammed the phone into its cradle violently before sighing tiredly. That was one of the issues he had about working for a large corporation like Shinra. Sure they provided him with a fair amount of funding, but when they wanted something done... The scientist released another irritated sigh and pushed himself away from the wall's peeling, floral wallpaper. His shoes echoed through the narrow hallway as he made his way to the holding room. The darkness of the basement was deep and oppressing, but Hojo did not seem to notice. He was used to the black corridors and he was immersed in his frustrated thoughts. Weeks earlier he had been informed that the President wanted him to focus entirely on mako research and the Jenova Project. Hojo had thought the request had been unusual at the time; the President generally allowed him to do whatever he wished, as long as his more questionable projects were kept under wraps and away from the company's reputation. Now, however, he supposed he could understand the President's impatience. The situation in Wutai had become increasingly dire, the tension between the company and the country thick, and it was quite obvious they were dangerously close to an an all out war. Naturally, the President would want his army of super soldiers in top condition for the approaching war and if the Jenova Project continued to produce the kind of results it had been, Sephiroth could be key to Shinra's victory.
Finally reaching his destination, Hojo paused at the door. Deep in the gloom he could just barely see the outline of Valentine, sitting in the corner of his cell. Sephiroth might, arguably, be his most successful experiment, but Vincent was by far his favorite. Since he first started experimenting on the man, Hojo had been surprised by his resilience. Vincent had taken everything Hojo had to offer and though there were times Vincent had reacted negatively to the treatment, he had always recovered in the end. If the scientist was even mildly curious about a hypothesis, he could simply bring Vincent out and test his theories on him. The pale man was like an extremely durable guinea pig and Hojo had never seen anything quite like him.
"Well they refused my offer. They don't seem to think I can balance multiple projects at once." Hojo snorted indignantly and mumbled under his breath, "Idiots doubting my brilliance." He crossed his arms over his chest and continued at normal volume, "So I will have to stop all my projects momentarily, except for the Jenova Project, of course."
The dark head in the corner lifted curiously and cold, black eyes met glowing red. Vincent was not sure exactly what Hojo meant, but he certainly would not mind a break from the madman's experiments. His eyes narrowed slightly, Sephiroth was still a concern...
Hojo sighed, "Yes Vincent, I'll even have to stop my fun with you for the time being." He waited a few moments, but getting no response he started again. "I'll be moving to the Science Department's lab in Midgar. The boy and the Jenova specimen will be coming with me."
The pale man shifted slightly, but was otherwise unresponsive.
"You'll be staying here."
Vincent instantly rose from his spot on the floor, glaring darkly at the madman. Certainly Hojo did not think he could separate him from Sephiroth. "What?" he said, voice bordering on a growl.
The lenses on the scientist's face flashed as he turned away from the man's bloody stare. "They should be being moved...," he lifted his arm to glance at his watch. "Right about now actually," he finished casually.
Vincent's eyes widened and he rushed to the bars of his cell. The murmuring in his mind rose an ocvate as he wrapped his pale fingers around the cold, steel bars. He glared at the scientist's retreating back furiously, a growl building in his chest. Hatred burned in his stomach, the feeling spreading and twisting like some deadly poison in his blood. He pulled desperately at the bars, but they remained passive and motionless. Vincent could feel distress tugging at his heart and mind and as the feeling grew, so did the volume of the mumbling voices behind his eyes. He needed to get to Sephiroth, he thought franticly, he needed to get out of the cell, out of the manor.
He pulled at the bars again, his slender arms trembling with the effort, but the metal gave only slightly. His glowing eyes squeezed shut and howl of pure frustration was ripped from his throat. He needed to get the bars open, they were his only hope. The locking mechanism of the doors were far too complex for him to force open without a key. A dark voice screamed in his mind and Vincent pressed his eyelids shut so tightly, colors were flashing inside their darkness. He needed out, he needed out, he needed out, he thought furiously and his mind gave a great, mental push.
The bars in his hands abruptly bent outwards and Vincent opened his eyes in surprise. The bars in front of him had curved away from his body outwards and sideways, forming hole large enough for him to step through. A quick glance at the rest of the wall of bars showed that all of the bars had bent outward, like a giant bubble had forced them out of shape. Vincent did not dwell on the bars for long, however, and slipped through the hole and into the hallway quickly. Voices were rolling through his mind but he ignored them. He needed to get to the spiral staircase. He needed to get outside. And with a speed he had not known he possessed, he sprinted through the dark corridors, feet pounding the dark floor.
Dark hair was flying into his face, but he could see the distant form of Hojo rapidly growing closer. In moments he swiftly passed the man and hurried up the long staircase. He could hear the scientist's voice yelling for assistance, but he paid the man's cries no mind. Weaving through the rooms and hallways, he made it to the manors door and out, accelerating his already fast pace. At the manor's front steps he jumped, leaping the distance of the yard and clearing the dark, metal gate easily. He did not even register how inhuman the motion had been, his attention riveted on the head of shining silver he could see in the distance.
"Sephiroth!"
The boy turned at his name, recognizing the voice instantly. He tried to pull away from the crowd of people around him, but multiple pairs of gloved hands were pulling him towards the back of the dark van. Sephiroth was scared. It looked like they wanted him to get inside a cage and beside the cage there was a metal tank with a small window cut into its front. There was something about the purple glow of the window that caused the voices in his mind to shift restlessly and made his head throb.
He tugged harder, trying to get the hands to release his small arms. His struggling had forced the scientists to pause and he used the moment to fight even harder, open his mouth he yelled a reply, "Vincent! I don't want to go!"
The dark haired man tensed, there were so many of them. He could see dozens of pristine lab coats, surely the entire scientific force housed in the manor was present. He twitched suddenly as hands slipped over his arms and chest, fingers threaded themselves into his thin patient gown. Arms were locking around his neck and he could hear heavy breathing in both his ears, the sound slightly muffled by white medical masks.
Sephiroth watched in horror as more and more scientists swarmed Vincent, he reached an arm towards the man futilely. Tears burned in his eyes, if only he were stronger. "No! Vincent!"
Vincent lurched, hands were pulling his head backwards by the hair, but he could still see Sephiroth struggling to reach him. His heart clenched as he suddenly realized how desperately he needed the boy. A flickering candle in an endless, dark hallway. His anchor; the last remaining thread that kept him tied to sanity. He needed him, he needed Sephiroth safe. The voices churned and a snarl started low in his throat. His gums tingled and stretched, he could feel his teeth lengthening and his canines widening. There was a throbbing in his head that would not stop and his eyes rolled back at the pain, briefly catching the dark blue of the night sky above before being swallowed by the dark of his eyelids. A groan left his mouth and the hands on his body faded under a wave of agony.
Sephiroth renewed his struggles, feeling the same desperation Vincent had. He would not be separated from the only person who had ever shown him kindness. Vincent made Sephiroth feel strange, unknown emotions and it pained Sephiroth to think of a night where he could not feel Vincent's soft hands or hear his soothing voice. He grew worried as he watched Vincent oddly still. Something was wrong. "Vincent!" He yelled, anxiety in his voice.
Vincent could hear nothing but the murmurs in his mind. The voices were pressing against his skull painfully as if fighting for release. None of them seemed to be able to manifest completely, but the snarling voice was loudest, growling in his ear and filling his body with a strange heat. The other voices were far from silent, however. The unstable one was shrieking incessantly and Vincent could feel a terrible bloodlust rising within him. Cold fury was snaking into his chest, though the deep, slow speaking voice was only whispering in the back of his mind. The cunning one was strangely silent, but Vincent could feel its awareness, almost as if it were a quiet observer.
Dark hair whipped about his head and he released a ragged breath. The hands of the scientists slipped from his head. He pulled his arms forward and the gloved hands upon them fell away easily. Vincent's eyes slid open slowly and the dozens of scientists took a cautious step backward. The whites of the dark haired man's eyes had gone a cold black and the red irises had bled into a viciously luminescent orange. Even the scientists could tell there was something off about him; the way he hunched forward slightly, his panting, uneven breaths. The man's long hair hung around his face and ran down the length of his back. The pale back was rising up and down, sweat forming on the sections visible through the mostly-backless gown. One of the surrounding scientists blanched as he saw a shapeless form rise from the back, beneath the man's skin, shifting and traveling a short distance before sinking into the body once more.
Vincent whirled suddenly, eyes wide and angry. He caught a scientist on his right in the chest, his newly formed claws tearing through the man's chest like paper. He pushed forward, forcing his victim to stumble backwards, and sank his hand deeper into the warm cavity. Pulling the man close, he stared into his terrified eyes and grinned as a shrill cackle echoed through his mind. Vincent rubbed his cheek against scientist's own, ashen one, purring softly in the man's ear while Vincent's fingers flexed and wriggled in the warm, wet tissue of his body. Orange eyes brightened as a long claw caught on a familiar, pulsing organ and he wrapped his hand around it before pulling the man's heart straight from his chest, blood and loose tissue streaming out of the hole and into the air. The scientist crumpled to the ground at Vincent's feet, dead. Holding his prize triumphantly, Vincent turned to the remaining scientists behind him. A cruel smile split his face and two rows of sharp, white teeth glistened in the moonlight.
The scientists stared at Vincent, stupefied. He gazed back at them calmly. His mouth opened and a long, sharp tongue snaked out and licked a long trail across the heart in his hand. One of the men watching let lose a horrible cry and raced back towards the mansion. The rest followed after him and Vincent's glowing orange eyes narrowed tracing their movements silently. He let them run for a few seconds before dashing after them so quickly he was nothing but a blur.
One straggler met an unfortunate end as Vincent pounced on him first. The scientist's chest hit the ground with a loud thud and the pale man's sensitive ears heard the man's sharp exhale. A sharp-toothed mouth opened wide, a victorious howl piercing the cold night. Vincent lowered his mouth and sunk his teeth into the back of the man's soft neck. His jaw locked and he pulled his head back viscously, taking the man's esophagus and trachea with him. The beasts in his mind roared joyously at the taste of blood and Vincent found himself roaring with them. He felt strangely free, covered in life blood as he was.
He reached his stained-red right hand out suddenly. He got the last few scientists in his sights and pulled with his mind. They shouted in horror as they found themselves floating suspended in the air before they were sent flying backwards. Vincent crouched, calves and thighs taunt as he prepared to spring. He launched himself into the air, straight at the back of a female scientist. He flattened his hand, locked his fingers together, and plunged his arm right through her back and out the front, forcing bits of gore out through the cavity. Vincent's momentum carried them up, farther from the ground and he turned her over in the air so that he was above her body. Bracing his bare feet against the woman's torso, he pushed. His arm tore free of her chest and her body rocketed towards the ground. The corpse hit the lawn of the manor with violence and turned over several times, a red trail smearing the grass after it, before settling; sprawled at an awkward angle.
Still airborne, Vincent looked at the last two scientists and pulled them towards him with another mental tug. He curled into himself then snapped back out, back arching. Orbs of hot fire formed around him before exploding, ripping anguished screams from the scientists. The dark haired man fell back towards the ground and flipped gracefully, landing softly on his feet. The charred bodies of the two struck the ground behind him, their defeated thuds muffled by the grass.
Sephiroth's eyes were wide as he watched Vincent eliminate the scientists effortlessly. He was surprised, but strangely unperturbed. In fact, his eyes held something more akin to awe than fear. Vincent had been deadly and brutal, but elegant and beautiful. The boy realized numbly bodies were pushing past him and lab coats were streaming towards the man standing on the lawn.
"Contain the specimen!"
Sephiroth gasped as he spotted syringes in their gloved hands. He tried to move forward but to his dismay, a few scientists had stayed behind to keep him in check. He opened his mouth to yell but a cold hand flew over his mouth before he could speak. Fear reflected in his eyes as he watched the mass of lab coats move almost as one toward the dark haired man.
Vincent's head was pounding, the voices were whispering and cackling gleefully. He brought a hand up to message his head but turned as he felt a sudden presence. The prick of a needle told him he was too late and he stumbled back as more needles sank themselves into his pale flesh. White was all he could see and the smell of latex and disinfectants filled his nose. There were hands upon him once more and he could feel his focus slipping. Darkness brushed the edges of his vision and the murmurs cried out in anger.
Sephiroth moved his face away from the hand and yelled, "They're hurting him!" A cry left Vincent's throat, the sound a fusion of the man's usual soft voice and something else. It was a ghastly noise that wrenched Sephiroth's heart and made him distraught once more. "Let go!" But the hands would not let go. The boy pressed his small hands against the large arms of the scientists, he had to be stronger, he had to get to Vincent. "Let GO!"
A wicked, invisible force sliced through the air and the three scientists near Sephiroth's were immediately forced back. Sephiroth ran towards Vincent, not noticing the scientists stumble back and collapse as their torsos separated from their legs. All that mattered was that he go to Vincent. Tears were leaking out of his eyes, all he had to do was get to Vincent and everything would be fine. "Vincent!"
Vincent grunted and forced the darkness threatening to consume him back. "Sephiroth...," he whispered. The boy was somewhere near. He growled, batting the scientists away from him then slicing through them with his claws. Blood misted the air as he hacked and carved a path through the bodies. Limbs were ripped from their owners, heads flew through the air as scientists were decapitated. Vincent's eyes were still black where they had been white, but the orange had returned to a familiar glowing red. He was tiring and the voices were becoming distant, but he continued forward by force of will alone.
Finally, Vincent reached the end of the seemingly endless stream of bodies and he could see Sephiroth, covered in blood, but eyes as wide and green as always. Lifting a pale arm, he reached for the boy, but stumbled and fell to his knees. His dark hair slipped over his shoulder as he leaned unsteadily sideways. Vincent wanted to cry in frustration, he was so close but his body was so weak.
Sephiroth rushed forward and fell to his own knees in front of Vincent. He crawled forward until he reached Vincent's open arms. The man looked as tired as Sephiroth felt, but his eyes were red and warm, and a small smile was on his pale lips. Green eyes slid closed and Sephiroth rested his head against Vincent's chest, unconcerned with the blood on the man's thin patient gown. Slender arms slipped around his body and long-fingered hands placed themselves on his back. Sephiroth wrapped his own short arms around as much of Vincent as he could, feeling an immense wave of contentment wash his fears away. Soft, dark hair caressed Sephiroth's cheek and he could hear Vincent's breathing even out slowly. Sephiroth felt his own consciousness fading, exhaustion overcoming adrenaline. A smile tugged at his lips, finally he was with Vincent. Everything was going to be okay.
Footsteps thudded quietly through the mass of blood and corpses as Professor Hojo approached, after having been strangely absent from the event. He stopped in front of them, a good five feet away. "At least the idiots weren't completely useless," he said aloud, taking in the needles and syringes, no doubt full of tranquilizers, still protruding from Vincent's pale skin.
Vincent's eyes were mere slivers of red as he looked at Hojo's feet. Strange, he thought, slipping into unconsciousness, was Hojo actually waiting for him to fall asleep? Perhaps it was a rare show of mercy from the madman... Vincent dismissed the thought quickly. No, the man was most likely just waiting until he was sure Vincent was no longer dangerous. His eyelids fluttered, he was so tired. He could barely keep his eyes open, much less attack the man. Tightening his hold on Sephiroth protectively, he finally succumbed to the call of drug-induced sleep.
Hojo waited, quietly noting how much Vincent looked like a mother bear protecting her cub. He stood before the pair for a long time before closing the distance between them.
He bent down, unlaced Vincent's arms, and plucked the child from his warm embrace.
Title: Until We Meet Again (Chapter 3: Voices)
Rating: R-ish overall. Chapter rating PG-13.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Sephiroth/Vincent
Summary: Though their time together was brief, they met time and time again. A relationship with history.
Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
Original Post Date: Between 11-10-2008 and 12-29-2008
Disclaimer: Hasn't changed.
—
Chapter 3: Voices
No matter how hard Vincent tried to block out the incessant mumbling in his mind, it would not stop. He could identify a few distinct voices: there was one that was slow and rumbling, another that seemed to snarl and growl through each word it spoke, another that was soft and quiet, but had an undertone of instability and a high, shrill cackle of a laugh. The final voice was the most unnerving, however. It was low, smooth, and reminded Vincent of shadowed corners in a brightly lit room. The voice was dark and held a definite cunning, which made cold shivers run down Vincent's spine and put him on edge. Never would he have thought he would feel wary of something inside his own mind.
The voices had come into existence only recently and Vincent was sure they were related somehow to Hojo's most recent experiments. Shifting uneasily, Vincent rested his temple against the cold wall of his cell as he squeezed his eyes shut. The mumbling only seemed louder and more obvious as he stared into the darkness of his eyelids. He had not been awake during the experiments, which was unusual since the scientist normally liked him awake, if only to hear his screams. Somehow Vincent felt it was more disturbing to wake up to new companions without being introduced to them first. He slipped his eyes open again and realized numbly how long his bangs had gotten. They had always been a fair length, but now the dark strands reached his shoulders. Even the strands he had once kept short had grown long enough to cover his eyes and brush his cheeks. Vincent could not help but wonder just how long he had lived in the darkness of the lab. Judging by Sephiroth's growth he would think a few years at least, but the boy developed faster than any child he had ever seen...
He could sense the footfalls before he could hear them. Vincent's senses had improved greatly with every experiment and he had even formed a sort of sixth sense. Whether it was a result of the mako or some other substance, he did not know, but it was a useful sense. Especially compared to some of Hojo's other additions... The mumbling in his mind became suddenly louder, as if taking offense to his train of thought.
A familiar, blood covered lab coat swept around the corner and Hojo grinned at the sight of his favorite pet project huddled against the wall. He approached the cell with even steps, slipping his hands into a pair of latex gloves as he went. The snap of latex against skin echoed loudly in the dark room, the sound ringing in Vincent's ears, but he showed no outward discomfort. Instead he lifted his head and turned to the madman, his eyes filled with a cool emptiness.
Hojo's grinned slipped just slightly upon seeing Vincent so emotionless. The man had become almost unresponsive to the scientist's tampering, but Hojo supposed it did not really matter. Valentine was still a very successful experiment and had taken all of Hojo's injections and prodding with little to no obvious side affects. Hojo supposed he was just being selfish.
"And how are we feeling today Mr. Valentine?" He called to the man in the cell.
Vincent gave no response. In his mind, however, the voices began to shift angrily and Vincent could feel their animosity toward the man before him.
Hojo shrugged and opened the cell door. "Come. I have a hypothesis that needs testing."
Vincent lifted himself off the hard floor, his patient gown rustling softly with the movement. His bare feet were silent as he walked through the cell's open door and stopped at Hojo's side. Glowing red eyes gazed impassively at the cages in the room, all filled with various specimens and mako beasts. His stomach clenched suddenly as he looked at the caged creatures. How different was he from any of them?
Hojo walked slowly through the gloomy, empty hallways of the manor and Vincent trailed silently behind him. Vincent knew there were other scientists in the mansion but he very rarely saw them. They were always strangely absent when Hojo experimented on him. He followed the scientist into the main lab and sat on the familiar, metal operating table in the center of the room. It was as frigid as always beneath his uncovered legs, cold and unchanging. He bitterly recalled some of the more involved experiments he had undergone on the table as he watched Hojo fiddled with syringes and bottles filled with strangely colored liquids. Sometimes he wondered why he allowed Hojo to tamper with his body. He had more combat experience than Hojo and with his recent physical improvements the man would be no match. Vincent's eyes darkened pensively. What did he have left in the world outside the lab? Then there was always Sephiroth. The Jenova Project was vital to Shinra's plans, whatever they were. It would be a great deal more difficult to escape with Sephiroth in tow and he would never leave Sephiroth behind.
"Here we are... Let's see how your body reacts to this," Hojo said as he lifted a syringe. Vincent looked at the liquid in the glass syringe skeptically. It could have almost passed for water had it not been glowing a faint purple and it looked less dangerous than mako, which shone a radiant green. There was something about it that made Vincent apprehensive, however, and from the agitated shifting in his mind, it seemed his new companions agreed.
Hojo held the needle's tip to the inside of Vincent's elbow before pushing it through the thin layer of skin and injecting the liquid into the pale man's arm. Vincent held his breath. The liquid felt a little intrusive, but was otherwise unnoticeable. The hum of machines was quiet under the murmur in his mind and the mako tanks on the outskirts of the room glowed a dim green. After a few tense minutes of nothing, Vincent exhaled quietly. He had been expecting the worst. A quick glance at Hojo confirmed that the scientist probably had as well. The madman looked decidedly disappointed.
An unexpected discomfort in his arm was the only warning Vincent received before he doubled over as his body was racked with pain. The injection site itched insistently and his very blood felt like fire. There was a sudden pounding in his brain and his ears throbbed as the murmurs escalated to near screams. Someone was howling, but he wasn't sure if it was him or one of the new occupants of his mind. The shrieks were suddenly quiet as another sound pierced though Vincent's pain. A new voice, this one soft, lilting, and unmistakably female.
Another come to join the ranks of my children, the voice said, tugging at Vincent's very will. A part of him was scared, but yet another part yielded. The voice was soothing and distantly Vincent was reminded of his mother though he had not seen her in such a long time...
The dark, cunning presence in his mind rose suddenly and released a furious bellow. Hissing, the feminine voice retreated and ripped itself from what felt like his soul, pulling so violently Vincent himself almost left with it. He instead fell to the hardwood floor, the metal legs of the operating table screeched gratingly against the wood, pushed by his sudden shift of weight. Vincent gasped, he could feel the skin near the injection site tearing and blood was rushing out of the ever-widening hole. His fingers closed over the wound futilely, the blood leaking through them and running down his pale arms. He hunched over as he dry heaved suddenly, dark hair spilling over his shoulders and around his face. Bile was building up in his throat and he gagged. His body was rejected the Jenova cells, he realized suddenly as he vomited a clear, yellow liquid. Vincent was almost glad he rarely ate as his vomiting created little mess, but the dry heaves he tried to fight down felt far worse than any sickness he had ever gone through before. Between heaves he released short, shuddering breaths. It had to have been Jenova, he thought, staring unseeingly at the dark floor before him. The creature he had just encountered could be no other.
Black shoes and equally dark pants entered his vision and hands grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. Vincent grunted and shifted uncomfortably, but did not fight as he was dragged across the room. Hair covered his eyes and he could not see where he was being led to. His bare feet followed the billowing, white lab coat in front of him up metal stairs, stumbling and tripping uncertainly; Vincent's legs felt like water and he could tell he was on the verge of collapsing.
Suddenly there were no more metal steps and his feet were being supported by nothing but air. His arms flailed briefly before his back hit warm, green liquid and he plunged below its surface. Vincent stared at the black hair floating around his head, slowly beginning to calm. Already he could feel his arm healing and the pain had faded to nothing. Hojo stared at him through the mako, looking both frustrated and thoughtful.
"Well that certainly wasn't what I was expecting," the scientist said. "Strange since your body has accepted every creature I've thrown at it so far... Perhaps you are just incompatible with Jenova." At this his eyes narrowed, "No, that seems unlikely. Maybe it's something inside you that is incompatible with her..."
Vincent simply stared back, face passive. He did not want to tell Hojo how one of the beasts inside him had scared Jenova off. He did not trust the voices in his mind, but he trusted Hojo even less. What Hojo could do to him with information like that, Vincent was less than excited to find out. A certain amount of self-satisfaction had also settled itself inside him. Very rarely did Vincent know something Hojo did not and he wanted to keep this little secret to himself for as long as he could. It was silly, but it did make him feel a little better.
Hojo turned away from the mako tank and walked out of the lab, hypothesizing to himself quietly leaving Vincent alone with his thoughts once more. The dark haired man exhaled into the liquid watched the bubbles around him race to the surface. Mako was a strange substance, he mused, he still had not quite figured out how he was able to breathe in it. His eyelids drooped and he relaxed, floating soundlessly in the glowing liquid.
Sephiroth poked his head around the doorway cautiously. He had already seen Hojo leave the room but there were always more scientists creeping around, his nose wrinkled distastefully. Certain that no one else was in there, the boy walked silently into the room, making a beeline for the room's only occupant. Once he reached the base of the tank he pressed his hands against the glass, gazing quietly at the pale form suspended in the liquid.
"Vincent?" His voice came out a whisper.
Vincent's eyes opened slowly, slightly hazy with fatigue. Spotting Sephiroth, he moved smoothly through the liquid. He braced his hands against the glass wall and pushed himself further down the cylindrical tank, using the wall as a support to fight the buoyancy of the mako. When he finally reached the boy's level, he smiled softly. How quickly the boy grew. He had known children who had barely begun to walk at Sephiroth's age, yet the child had far surpassed any of those children. He could speak as well as a teenager and knew words Vincent himself had not learned until he had reached at least middle school.
"Sephiroth, I'm sure Hojo wouldn't want you in here," he said, bubbles forming at every word, the disapproval in his voice negated by the smile on his face.
Sephiroth grinned, "I was sneaky, no one will even know I was in here." He sat down on the floor. It would be a while before Hojo would return to check on Vincent. "Are you okay? I heard screaming."
Vincent frowned at the concern in Sephiroth's eyes. It was touching, but Vincent would have rather Sephiroth not have heard him during one of his episodes. "I'm fine. Just Hojo trying to satisfy his curiosity once again."
This made Sephiroth suddenly angry and he pressed his small hands against the thick glass a little harder. He did not like Hojo and he hated it when the scientist hurt Vincent, but when he had heard Vincent scream he felt something more than just anger. It had knotted his stomach and made his chest throb in pain. Sephiroth did not know what such a feeling could be, for he had never experienced anything like it in his entire three years of life. Looking at Vincent now he wanted to reach through the glass and touch him, but he made himself content by just staring at his eyes. The red gleam still discernible through the green glow of the mako. Sephiroth narrowed his eyes as the distant murmur in his mind spiked abruptly. He tried to hide the quiet groan that had fought its way out of his mouth, but Vincent's sensitive ears picked it up anyway.
Vincent sank farther into the liquid and brought his face closer to the boy's, "Sephiroth?"
Sephiroth rested his head against the cool glass and the murmur grew more distant, "It's nothing."
Vincent looked decidedly dubious. "What is it?" he asked, though the question came out as more of a command.
Sephiroth exhaled and kept his eyes downcast. The scientists had told him hearing voices was not normal, he did not want Vincent to hate him for being... abnormal.
The dark haired man was concerned, Sephiroth was usually very straightforward, even blunt, about things. Never had Vincent seen him hesitate. He pressed his hands to the glass near Sephiroth's smaller hands. Had the barrier not been present they would have been touching. "Sephiroth... you know you can tell me anything."
Sephiroth's fears eased slightly at the soft voice. He waited only a moment longer before his voice came out hushed, "Sometimes... I hear voices."
Vincent's eyes widened minutely. Certainly the way Sephiroth had said the word voices implied these were not normal voices. "What do you mean?"
There had been no hostility in Vincent's voice and Sephiroth became surer, "In my head. She talks to me sometimes, whispers me things..."
A great wave of sorrow washed over Vincent at the boy's words, recalling the lilting voice of Jenova from before. He had heard once that hearing voices was the first sign of insanity. A sad smile tugged at his lips. Perhaps they were both doomed. Such a fate he would not have minded if it were reserved only for himself, but never for Sephiroth...
The boy lifted his gaze to look at Vincent, the man's silence making him uneasy. Maybe Vincent really did hate him now that he knew. Taking in the dark haired man's form, however, he saw only a hint of sadness and a small smile on his face.
"You're not the only one," Vincent said quietly.
Sephiroth's eyes widened. Could it be? "You too?"
Vincent nodded slowly. "I take it you hear only one voice?"
Sephiroth thought for a moment. Sometimes it sounded like multiple voices speaking at once but the voices all sounded similar... "Yeah."
Vincent smiled, "Try having four."
"Four voices?" Sephiroth gasped. He had thought one was bad. He smiled slightly, feeling better now that he knew he wasn't alone. Especially since Vincent heard the voices too. Anything Vincent had could not possibly be as bad as Sephiroth thought. Nothing about Vincent horrible. Nothing. He leaned closer to the glass, watching one of Vincent's pale feet float near the floor of the tank. "The voices are quiet when you are near."
Vincent blinked. "Hm?"
It was true, Sephiroth thought. Whenever he was close to Vincent the voices became distant, as if there was something within the man that repelled them. His mind was so wonderfully quiet when Vincent was nearby. Sephiroth suddenly wished Vincent was out of the tank, stroking his hair and singing him lullabies.
Vincent could not help but wonder at this new piece of information. Perhaps it was somehow connected to the way his voices had reacted when Jenova's cells had been injected into his body. "Sephiroth."
Sephiroth looked up again, eyes locking with Vincent's. "Yes?"
"I want you to promise me something," Vincent said seriously. "I want you to fight the voices, even when I'm not around. Okay?"
Sephiroth frowned, the voices were much harder to ignore when they weren't muted by Vincent's presence. Staring into the man's glowing eyes, however, he realized just how important his promise was. He did not want to disappoint Vincent. Sephiroth nodded seriously.
Title: Until We Meet Again (Chapter 2: Soft Hands and Lullabies)
Rating: R-ish overall. Chapter rating PG.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Sephiroth/Vincent
Summary: Though their time together was brief, they met time and time again. A relationship with history.
Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
Original Post Date: Between 11-10-2008 and 12-29-2008
Disclaimer: Same as it was in the first chapter.
—
Chapter 2: Soft Hands and Lullabies
The mako bath was glowing an ominous green as the baby's body shifted restlessly in the liquid. Gloved hands tightened around the tiny body, trying to keep him in place, but it seemed to only have the opposite effect. Sephiroth screamed high and loud, furiously batting at the luminous bath. The green liquid splashed and little waves crashed against the edges of the glass box, the liquid creeping steadily higher as Sephiroth's movements became increasingly violent. His small hands slapped the surface of the solution, spraying mako everywhere and forcing Hojo to turn his head as the potent liquid flew towards his face. He hissed as mako flecked his mask and protective eyegear, barely missing his vulnerable eyes.
Distantly Hojo mused on how inconvenient the death of Lucrecia Crescent was. She might have been worthless as a scientist, but surely she would have fared better with the child.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw dark hair that was not his own and whirled suddenly, the baby still in his hands. Mako dripped from the baby's naked form to the dark, hardwood floor, a glowing puddle quickly forming near the scientist's feet. Glassy, black eyes swept over the man in front of him, checking for signs of hostility or the beginnings of possible violent movement. Detecting nothing, the scientist relaxed slightly. He did not believe Valentine was of any threat as the man had become increasingly withdrawn over the last few weeks. Hojo was sure the man's mind was in a questionable state, but it had not put him in any danger so far. In fact, if not for Valentine's consistently passive face, he might have thought the man was afraid of him.
Vincent's hands lifted slowly and he took a small step towards Hojo, his bare foot making a quiet splash in the mako puddle on the floor. His pale lips parted, as if he wished to say something but he made no sound. Blood red eyes glowed faintly in the darkness of the lab, locked on the crying baby in Hojo's hands. The scientist arched his eyebrows, did Valentine want to hold the child? His keen mind took note of the man's strange behavior, ready to transcribe the information to the official records later.
Vincent pressed his lips together before parting them again. He brought his hands a little higher, closer to the baby before him. A small noise escaped his throat. His mind struggled to form the words he needed to express his desire and his throat was raw from screaming. Since he had woken he had not spoken a word; Hojo gave him only opportunities to scream and gasp in pain. Vincent moved his lips desperately, trying to force the thoughts in his mind out of his mouth. He felt a deep and horrible shame as tears began to well up in his eyes. Tremors rolled through his body and his legs trembled. Vincent felt suddenly tired and collapsed on the floor. His legs became wet with mako, his thin patient gown offering little protection from the glowing puddle beneath him. Hands braced against the floor prevented him from falling completely, but Vincent still felt defeated and vulnerable. Overcome with a sudden wave of anguish his body rocked with a single, dry sob.
Hojo quietly assessed the crying man with cold eyes, the light of the mako bath reflecting softly off his goggles and glasses. Could this pitiful creature before him now really be the proud Turk he had watched wander the halls of the Shinra manor, venom and envy in the scientist's eyes? Had his calm, powerful facade been so completely broken by only the madman's needles and scalpels? A slow, sadistic smile spread across Hojo's face at the thought. His hands had shattered the will of this man. His hands had been the undoing of Vincent Valentine.
"Please..."
Hojo blinked as the hoarse voice drifted up from behind the pale man's long, inky bangs. He bent forward slightly to better hear the dark haired man's voice, noticing for the first time how quiet Sephiroth had become subsequent to Vincent's tears. The baby was still in his hands and he opened his mouth, the cruel smile still present, "What was that?"
Vincent's eyes were still hidden by his long bangs, but Hojo could imagine the pain they held as Vincent spoke again, this time a little louder. "Please."
"Please what?" Hojo's voice was deceptively sweet; mocking.
"Could I...," Vincent lifted his head, his eyes colder than Hojo would have liked, but barely masking his weakness. He looked fragile. Hojo almost wanted to reach out and touch him, just to see if he would shatter.
"Could you what, Vincent?"
"Could I... hold him, please..." Vincent's voice became quieter with each word.
Hojo frowned slightly. He had been expecting such a request but he still was not sure how to react. Vincent was so broken he would not be capable of doing anything to Sephiroth, not that he thought Vincent had it in him to hurt a small child anyway. The man might have been a Turk, but beneath the hardened exterior he had always been soft. Looking into the man's softly glowing eyes he could see a sort of desperate hopefulness that made Hojo's frown deepen. As if sensing Hojo's indecision, the baby in his hands released a loud cry and began its struggles anew. The scientist fought to hold the child while his mind dwelled on how the baby had stayed mostly quiet in Vincent's presence. At this point Hojo was willing to do anything to stop the baby's infernal noise.
Hojo growled, "Fine! Take him!" He thrust the baby into Vincent's arms, glad to be rid of the child.
Vincent gasped in surprise, but quickly tightened his hold on Sephiroth's small body, not wanting to drop him. The cries stopped almost instantly which made Hojo both stare in wonder and snort indignantly. Vincent gazed into the boy's wide green eyes while shifting his legs so that he was sitting on the wet, hardwood floor rather than on his calves. One long-fingered hand lifted and brushed the baby's soft hair and Vincent could not help but marvel at its strange, almost translucent color. At the ends of the short strands, the hair looked almost white or silver, but Vincent had never seen such hair color, at least on someone so young. The baby's skin was almost as pale as his own which made Vincent's lips twitch downwards minutely. His own skin was a nearly sickly shade of white, certainly having such pale skin was a sign of unhealthiness. He brought the hand brushing Sephiroth's hair down to one of Sephiroth's pale cheeks, smiling slightly as the baby brought his hands up to grasp one of Vincent's fingers and gurgled a happy noise. Sephiroth's coloration was surely unusual, but by far his most striking and disturbing feature was his eyes. Luminescent green eyes watched him unblinkingly, as if studying Vincent just as he was studying the baby. Never had Vincent seen such odd cat-like pupils in a person and he figured it was probably a side affect of the Jenova cells inside the boy. Unconsciously, his grip on Sephiroth tightened slightly as his gaze became suddenly unfocused, remembering a moment in time that seemed so far away, as if it had happened many years ago.
His fists were clenched at his side and he took a step forward, closer to the two figures before him, "Producing a baby for the sole purpose of human experimentation? Are you mad? What kind of life would the child live?"
Hojo shifted in his chair, "It would be for the sake of science. We've done all we can with animal specimens and we can hardly grab some random person for an experiment as delicate as this. Creating a specimen from scratch, a perfect creation, would be best for this project."
Vincent could not believe what he was hearing. He was a Turk. He killed people for a living, yet he seemed to have more morals than the man in front of him. Vincent bit back a growl, "But what about the child? A lab is hardly a place to grow up. What would he play with? Syringes and test tubes?"
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Hojo leaned forward, placing his arm on the edge of the table, "He wouldn't be a normal child, Valentine, he would be a specimen. I doubt he would have time to play."
If he had understood correctly, Hojo had volunteered to donate half of his genetic material to the baby and Lucrecia would donate the other half (he ignored the way his heart wrenched at the thought), yet here the man was, stating quite plainly that he would deny a child, his own child no less, an even somewhat-normal life. Vincent was appalled, even Hojo could not be so heartless.
In his peripheral vision he could see Lucrecia shift uncomfortably and he turned towards her desperately. He had already expressed his concern about her safety, but she seemed dead-set on being a part of the project. Even so, surely she would see the madness in Hojo's words. He whispered hopefully, "Lucrecia... don't tell me you agree with this, there must be some alternative."
She gazed at him briefly, an unreadable expression in her eyes, before hurriedly looking away. The shock Vincent felt almost made him rock back on his heels. He could not understand, what could be more important than her own well-being and the happiness of her child?
Hojo sighed, he was growing tired of the Turk's silly, self-righteous accusations. "She and I are both scientists. We understand the risks and the consequences, though I wouldn't expect a brainless Turk, such as yourself, to be able to comprehend such things."
Still watching Lucrecia, waiting for her reaction to Hojo's words, Vincent held his breath. When she did not protest he lowered his gaze, defeated. How badly he wanted to argue against the Jenova Project. He wanted to protect Lucrecia and her child... No child should ever have to suffer such a horrible fate; doomed to be experimented on from birth until the end of his life. Vincent wanted to fight, but what more could he do? He was just a Turk, he had not authority in this situation, and he had never been able to deny Lucrecia anything...
Vincent looked down at Sephiroth once more. The baby had contented himself with playing with Vincent's hair as Vincent had reflected, the light tugs on his hair distracted Vincent from his dark thoughts. Such a wonderful child, how different his life could have been. Vincent poked Sephiroth's chest softly, causing the baby to giggle and grab his finger once more. Curling his finger around the child's small hands, he shifted his other arm and brought Sephiroth closer to his body. He hugged the baby to his chest and rested his cheek against the child's soft hair. Dark bangs stuck to his face, caught by the wet trail of tears slipping silently down his cheeks. The last time he had cried had been so long ago he had almost started believing he was incapable of crying, yet here he was weeping over a child that was not his, a baby he had only even seen once before. It was ridiculous but so appropriate, so overcome with sorrow was he. If only he had convinced them, if only he had stopped them...
Vincent's voice was faint and broken as he whispered against Sephiroth's ear, "I'm sorry... so sorry..."
Hojo suddenly felt awkward witnessing such raw emotion from the usually calm man. He shifted his weight uneasily. "Just put him on the table when you're done with him," he said lowly before taking a step away from the dark haired man and the child in his arms. So focused was he on the baby and his own anguish, Vincent did not even seem to mind that he was completely covered in glowing mako. Hojo was mostly unconcerned, however. He had exposed the man to so much mako over the past week his skin had developed an immunity to the liquid. The scientist turned and walked from the pair quietly, already running though the event in his mind and picking apart the scene for anything significant enough to be put into his notes.
Sephiroth leaned into Vincent's warm embrace, the feeling so foreign compared to the cold hands of Hojo and the frigid metal of the operating table. A soft voice floated down from above as Vincent sang a quiet lullaby. Though there was a slight undertone of sadness, the voice was steady and clear. Long fingers combed through Sephiroth's short hair, the smooth motion combined with the calming voice had his eyelids drooping all too soon. He wanted this peaceful, warm feeling to last longer.
Vincent felt Sephiroth's breathing even out, the gentle puffs of warm air brushing lightly over his chest, through the thin material of his backless gown. Leaning his head against the nearby mako tank he continued to run his fingers through Sephiroth's hair and his quiet lullaby grew ever softer but did not stop. He was still wet with mako and the lab was as cool as always, but Vincent felt strangely warm with the small body in his arms. He was content for the first time in a long time and he was unwilling to bring an end to the unusual tranquility he was feeling, so his simply sat and sang to the child pressed against his chest.
And the soft, sad tune of the lullaby drifted through the lab; carrying over the hum of the machines and weaving through the darkness.
Title: Until We Meet Again (Chapter 1: At First Glance)
Rating: PG-15-ish overall. Chapter rating PG-13.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Sephiroth/Vincent
Summary: Though their time together was brief, they met time and time again. A relationship with history.
Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
Original Post Date: 11-10-2008
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, Vincent Valentine, Sephiroth, Professor Hojo, Shinra, or any other character/location/whatever copyrighted by Square Enix. The random, nameless scientists, however, are my own creations.
—
Chapter 1: At First Glance
He had been ripped violently from soothing, soft, green light to searing pain and cold. Behind him there was a frigid solid but he wasn't sure what it could be. His mind was slow, his vision unfocused, even his sense of smell seemed to be be malfunctioning as he could not discern any scent but a stinging antiseptic. There was crying somewhere in the distance, but the cry was so soft he was not sure if it was real or a part of a rapidly fading dream.
A low, almost maniacal voice drifted from the darkness around him, "... Finally brought ba... alive! Truly I... brilliant..."
Without warning, there was cold, clammy flesh pressed against his forehead. Fingers, thin and wet, brushed his skin lightly as his dark bangs were pushed from his eyes. There was a dark, familiar scent that made him want to wrinkle his nose. He couldn't place it, but it was so very familiar...
"Awake... yet...? No dou... side affect..." The icy hand left his forehead and the presence at his side faded.
Without the mysterious person at his side, he was left alone with the throbbing pain in his chest. He tried to move but only succeeded in twitching his fingers slightly. Slowly, the coldness at his back was becoming more distinct as feeling flowed back into his body. The pain in his chest too was beginning to spread and the familiar scent from earlier was becoming stronger. Somewhere in the surrounding gloom, someone one was still crying. Distantly he wondered why no one was trying to comfort the source of the sad sound, but the thought quickly faded as a sharp ache began to form behind his eye and a quiet groan was forced from his throat.
The soft thuds of somewhat-heavy footfalls found his ears. He imagined polished black shoes on hardwood floor before his mind became unfocused once again. It was so difficult for him to keep a single thought in his mind for more than a few seconds, but he was unable to dwell on the reason behind his sluggishness for the presence had returned. His face was suddenly hit with hot breath and he tried to turn and look at the unknown person but all he could see was darkness and a deep green glow that seemed to have no definite source.
"... This... probab... help..." There was a small prick on the inside of his right elbow and at the same time the clammy hand reappeared and pressed suddenly against his chest.
And then there was agony. All his senses were functioning perfectly now, in fact, they were working almost too well. Immense pain shot from where the hand was placed to his head before rocketing down to his toes. The solid at his back was so cold it burned and his body jerked violently at the new sensations. His eyes were wide and the blackness before him seemed all consuming, he wanted to scream both in pain and in fear, but his voice was caught in his throat. There was a loud, mechanical hum in the background and the distant cry was suddenly magnified. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized the cry was shrill and high, the cry of a child or a baby. He could not even begin to fathom the reason a baby would be in this dark place of pain but all logical thought was quickly swallowed by another wave of agony and spasms.
The smell of powerful disinfectants hit him once again and his nose burned furiously. He could feel his eyes beginning to water when the smell was abruptly overpowered by the dark scent from before. Grim recognition rolled through his mind. Blood.
Immediately after the thought processed, he noticed how sticky his chest was, how wet it was near the origin of his pain. He craned his neck forward despite its stiffness. Pain lanced down his spine but he continued to push, determined to ease his suspicions.
Where smooth, unbroken skin should have been there was instead a gaping hole. It spanned from the left of his upper chest, where his heart resided, to the center. A wound of such size surly should have killed him. He was completely covered in blood and though the blood on his sides had begun flaking, there was still a copious amount wet and fresh around the cavity in his chest. He felt instantly nauseous and as he stared into near-hollow space he saw a soft, pink mass buried well inside give a sudden, pulsing twitch accompanied by a familiar lubb-dub in his ears. He screamed, horrified, and convulsed, sending his head backwards and his eyes away from the disturbing sight. A sharp, metallic twang rocked his brain as the back of his head met the icy table behind him.
A metal table. An operating table, uncomfortable and cushion-less. He remembered seeing such a table once in a lab belonging to a madman.
Overcome with terror, he struggled, but found his extremities bound. His eyes darted to his right and saw a cruel smile and coal black eyes behind shining lenses. Eyes filled with intelligence and the unholy light of insanity, eyes convinced of their own, undoubtable brilliance.
Somehow, over the sounds of his own, ragged breathing and panicked noises, crying drifted into his ears once more, but this time he was able to determine a direction. His wide eyes flicked past the insane man next to him and spotted an operating table similar to his own deep in the darkness of the lab. Upon it was a tiny, struggling form bundled in a single blanket. The piercing noise stopped abruptly and the bundle stilled just long enough to turn towards him slightly.
He could see feathered hair of some undefinable shade atop the baby's head. The green glow of the room reflected off its pale hair, forming a sort of halo around it. Even with the distance between them, he could see the baby's wide, unnatural eyes glowing from across the room. A bright shade of green he had never seen before and dilated pupils that were slit vertically like a cat's. The pain in his body seemed to quiet momentarily as he stared into those eyes, both fascinated and disturbed.
He could remember, from a time that seemed so long ago, a name whispered in a soft, pleasant voice by a beautiful woman with long brown hair. A name she had said to him with a frightening and obsessive sort of happiness prior to her fall, a death bestowed upon her by the very baby before him now.
And then there was pain once again. Cold hands were pressed against his chest as he gave an unexpected lurch. His body surrendered to a new series of convulsions and as his consciousness faded he spared the child one last look. The baby watched him with a calmness that was quite at odds with its earlier screaming.
The edges of his vision were blackening rapidly and as he was swallowed by darkness he uttered a single word.
Title: Sunday Mornings
Rating: PG-12
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Sephiroth/Vincent
Summary: One-shot. Late Sunday morning Vincent and Sephiroth have breakfast.
Original Post Date: 11-8-2008
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth, or Vincent Valentine.
—
Long fingers wrapped around a cold glass and lifted it to pale lips. Adam's apple bobbed once. Twice. Three times before the glass was brought back down to the table with a soft clink. Sephiroth let out a contented sigh as the cool orange juice slid down his throat. His tongue swept around his teeth to catch the last remaining bits of pulp before smacking his lips. Orange juice was tasty.
His sensitive ears picked up the sound of soft footfalls coming down the hall. A smirk slid it's way across his face as pale flesh, a mass of dark, unruly hair, and flannel pajama bottoms appeared from around the corner.
Bright green eyes glanced towards the clock hanging on the wall. Eleven fifty-three.
" 'Morning, Sunshine. Up later than usual, I see."
Red eyes narrowed and glowed briefly as Vincent sent a hot glare Sephiroth's way. "And whose fault would that be I wonder?"
Sephiroth lifted an eyebrow, "Interesting, I didn't hear any complaining last night. In fact, I recall hearing something more along the lines of 'more' and 'don't stop' —"
"Alright, alright." Vincent frowned (pouted) and quietly took in the sight of the planet's once-greatest villain sitting at the darkwood table in nothing but a pair of boxers, a thin, white t-shirt and a glass of orange juice in his hand. Vincent blinked. "Orange juice? You know the coffee maker is directly behind you, right?"
"I felt like having orange juice."
Vincent fought the urge to roll his eyes. Rolling his eyes would have been very out of character. "And he can't even make coffee. That's pathetic."
Sephiroth bristled and the smirk faded. "I am perfectly capable of making coffee," he growled.
"Just like you're perfectly capable of burning water."
"That was one time—"
"Or maybe more like how you're perfectly capable of blackening toast when the toaster setting is on 'light'."
"That toaster oven hates me!"
"And that time you blew up the microwave trying to warm up a quesadilla..."
The ex-general groaned, he knew Vincent could go on like this forever. The man had a damn near endless list of evidence after all, not that Sephiroth would ever admit that. "I was created to kill people. Not to cook."
Vincent made his way across the kitchen and began to pull out various pans and spatulas. He was thinking omelets. It had been a while since he had last made omelets. "They didn't teach you how to cook in SOLDIER school?"
"Cooking dead animals on sticks over a fire and opening rations is a hell of a lot less complicated than this stove and oven crap."
Vincent cracked the eggs on the counter and spilt the shells apart perfectly. He then dropped the yolks into a bowl while simultaneously grabbing a couple more eggs. The ex-Turk let a small smile make it's way onto his usually impassive face. Sephiroth was so amusing when he was defensive.
Watching Vincent prepare their breakfast, Sephiroth couldn't help but grudgingly admire how easy the man made it look. Vincent wouldn't look half bad in an apron... The smirk returned full force. "Besides, I don't need to know how to cook when I've got my wifey to do it for me."
A long fingered hand stopped mid-omelet flip and a thin black eyebrow gave a single violent twitch. With inhuman speed, Vincent leapt the length of the kitchen and took his trusty wooden rolling pin from the yellow-tiled countertop. Long, raven hair arched around his head as he twirled and threw the rolling pin with the kind of monstrous strength only scientific experimentation, mako poisoning, and multiple super-powered demons could have granted.
Green eyes widened in alarm and that was about all Sephiroth had time to do before his legendary reflexes failed him. The rolling pin struck his head with enough force to knock him backwards off his chair and break itself on his thick skull. His long silver ponytail snaked through the hair before following him to the ground and lying defeated on the hardwood floor.
By the time Sephiroth got up again, the table had been set and a nice big lump had formed right in the middle of his forehead.
Title: A Bad Night for Yuffie
Rating: PG-12.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: mild Sephiroth/Vincent
Summary: One-shot. Slight AU. Master thief Yuffie tries to rob the wrong house.
Original Post Date: 3-10-2009
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or its characters.
—
Oh, she was sneaky.
How skillfully she slipped through the trees. How stealthily she stepped through the shadows. Her feet glided over the grass soundlessly and her eyes brightened as her target came into view. A wicked grin broke out across her face. Certainly there was no other more devious than the Great Master Thief Yuffie.
She had set her eyes on the house the moment she had entered the neighborhood. It was a quaint, single-story building painted white and gray, and, most importantly, the security was incredibly lax. Open windows, unlocked doors, Yuffie was even willing to bet there wasn't even an alarm installed. Not that one would have stopped her amazing thieving skills, of course.
From what she had observed over the past few days, her only real obstacle would be the owners. There were two of them and they seldom left the house, which was why she decided to break in at night while they were sleeping. Yuffie knew she couldn't take another day of waiting and boredom. She never liked all the planning before a robbery, it was all about the action.
A quick dash across the lawn brought her to her decided point of entry: the bedroom window. After a glance around her surroundings to make sure the coast was clear, she hooked her fingers around the window's edge and slid it open quietly. The window pane grated against the metal of the frame shrilly and she tensed. No detectable movement from inside. Yuffie heaved a quiet sigh. She pushed her slender body through the opening carefully and when her feet touched the hard floor of the room she felt like doing a little victory dance. But it's not over yet, she thought with a grin. Oh no, the fun was just beginning.
It was dark, but from what she could see of the room it looked fairly large. A few feet directly in front of her spot by the window was the bed. Her shadow stretched over the two sleeping figures of the owners. The one closest had his back turned to her and his hair was splayed across the sheets, the strands white and shining in the meager moonlight. Past the naked curve of his shoulder was a dark head of messy hair, but she couldn't get a good look of the rest of the other man beyond that. Her eyes turned from the men and searched the nearby headstand for anything valuable. There was nothing except a small picture frame. She tried to ignore it but curiosity got the better of her, so her grabbed it and held the photo to the window.
If the sleeping-in-the-same-bed thing hadn't convinced her of their sexuality, then the picture washed all those doubts away. In the photo, the silver-haired man had one arm curled around the other's waist and the other arm halfway up his friend's shirt. He was smirking into the red-eyed male's black hair, but his intense gaze was focused on the camera. Everything about the man just screamed "frightening!" and "possessive!" and Yuffie was pretty sure he was not the kind of person she'd like to make angry. Doesn't make him any less gorgeous though. Her gaze trailed over his figure appreciatively before shifting to the black-haired man who looked perturbed at his friend's shameless groping. The green-eyed one was hot, but this one was definitely more her type. Not that it really matter with him being gay and all.
Stealing from a couple of gay guys? Could this get any easier? She held back a maniacal laugh and settled with a toothy grin.
Yuffie set the picture down and shuffled across the room, her wide gray eyes greedily seeking treasure. A glass case in a far corner of the room caught her attention and she bounded over to it. Her excitement grew as she drew closer.
"Ooo," she whispered. "Pretty knife."
She pressed her gloved hands against the glass and "ooh"'d some more. Yuffie really liked shiny things. It was one of the reasons she had gotten into stealing in the first place. She admired what she could see of the hilt's details: intricately carved dark wood embedded with obsidian. No doubt the dagger was worth quite the pretty penny. Her hands rubbed together eagerly.
"Funny, I don't remember opening the window."
Yuffie started and looked over her shoulder to see a dark figure at the doorway. A quick glance at the bed revealed the silver-haired occupant missing beneath the covers. When had he moved? She hadn't heard him move!
He lifted a hand to the switch and turned on the lights. Yuffie blinked furiously at the sudden change then gaped at the room around her. Forget bedroom, the place looked like a fucking armory. Swords, daggers, every blade imaginable. She could see everything from broadswords to tanto, rapiers to Chinese qiang, and kanata. A buttload of katana. Shelves with sets, wall mounts and metal everywhere. There were guns too: antique rifles, ornate pistols, modern handguns, shotguns. There was even something that looked like a grenade launcher and was too large to possibly be legal. The most impressive weapons, however, were on the wall opposite of her. There was a long outachi with a horribly, sharp-looking blade, and a little name plaque that said "Masamune". Directly beneath the outachi was a largest rifle Yuffie had ever seen. Its plaque said "Death Penalty".
How did I not see this? she wondered. Yuffie was definitely starting to feel a little nervous. If things got bad she could probably grab a sword off the wall to defend herself. How hard could swinging a sword be, right? She stole an anxious glance at the man by the wall. Muscular, not huge, but probably strong enough to wield a broadsword fairly easily. Let's hope he's just a collector...
As if reading her mind, the tall man took the nearest sword off the wall, an expensive-looking katana with a tsuba wrapped in red, and unsheathed it. Yuffie felt her spirits lift a little, A katana! I could probably handle a katana. Then, without taking his eyes off her, the silver-haired man twirled the sword deftly in his long fingers before releasing it completely. It landed easily in his left hand and with an effortless motion of his wrist, swung the blade around in a full circle before letting it lie limp at his side. Yuffie immediately went from hopeful to filled with dread.
"Eyeing the collection, were you?" His expression was impassive, but his green eyes shined with sadism. "You picked the wrong house to try to rob, little thief."
He shot across the length of the room without warning. Yuffie barely had time to leap out of the way, her eyes wide as she watched the katana's tip pass her bare midriff by scant millimeters. The instant she hit the floor she got to her feet and raced to the bedroom door. Her shoes pounded the hardwood furiously and she flew into the hallway. Her momentum carried her into a wall, crushing her shoulder painfully, but the adrenaline in her blood pushed her on. Her yellow shoes struggled for traction on the smooth floor as she sprinted down the hall. Yuffie spared a glance backward and found her attacker less than two feet behind her. His longer legs carrying him to her faster than she could escape.
Her next stepped missed and the would-be thief met the floor with a loud yell. Yuffie peeled her face off the dark cherry-brown wood and flipped herself over, ready to kick the long-haired male should he come near, but the moment she was on her back she found a barefoot digging into her stomach and a blade impaled in the floor so close to her neck she could feel it; cold and bloodthristy.
There was a smirk on the man's lips. His hair was pouring around his neck and shoulders as he inclined his head to look down at her, but she found it hard to admire when there was such a high chance of her dying.
"Poor, little thief didn't get very far." Green eyes glittered with cruel amusement. His hand curled around the blade's handle and he wrenched the katana free from the floor. Yuffie could hear her heart pounding in her ears as the sharp metal hovered near her chin.
Suddenly there was a soft cough followed by a pleasantly quiet voice, "Sephiroth...?"
Sephiroth turned from the pinned thief and looked down the hall towards the bedroom. He frowned and paused for a moment indecision. His cat eyes trained themselves on the girl under his foot once more. He released her. "Up."
She hastily got to her feet, eyeing his katana nervously.
"Move." He motioned to the right with his sword.
Yuffie followed the hallway right and saw the welcome sight of the front door. Sephiroth walked past her to open the door, then grabbed the back of her shirt and pushed her out of the house. When she looked back at him with confusion and hesitation, he arched a silver eyebrow. "Go. Don't come back."
"You're letting me go?" Yuffie asked uncertainly.
He rolled his eyes and replied cooly, "Obviously. You got lucky this time, so don't come back." He gave her a frightening half-smile. "I won't let you leave alive if you do." And then he shut the door.
Sephiroth walked back to the bedroom, re-sheathed his katana, placed it back on its wall mount, and turned off the lights. His bare feet padded around the bed quietly and he shut the window before slipping back under the covers. He found sleepy, red eyes watching him. A smile twitched the edges of his mouth and Sephiroth wrapped his arms around his dark-haired companion.
"What was all that noise?" Vincent said through a yawn.
"Just getting rid of a pest," Sephiroth replied. "Was that what woke you up?"
Vincent shook his head, "The window was open, I got cold."
And I wasn't here to warm you up, Sephiroth thought smugly, though he refrained from smirking.
"Was it a rat?"
Sephiroth closed his eyes and smiled against Vincent's dark hair. "Something like that."
–
Finally she had made if back to her car! Yuffie leaned against the cool glass of the window as she shoved her hand into her pocket for her keys. Well, that certainly didn't go according to plan. She was feeling just a little bitter. No wonder they don't have any security... That damn crazy Sephiroth is all the security they need. She fished around her pocket some more. That was strange, she could've sworn she had put her keys in this pocket. Her fingers searched her other pockets, but all came up empty.
"No," her whispered desperately. "No, no, no, no!" She checked and double checked. Her pockets were clean. "What if they...," she didn't even want to think of the possibility. What if they had fallen out of her pocket when Sephiroth had attacked her?
The cold night breeze blew and she shivered. What had possessed her to wear shorts and a tank top in autumn?
"Maybe I should go back...," Yuffie muttered half-heartedly, but Sephiroth's threat was still fresh in her mind. "It's probably not worth it..."
The wind picked up and her shivering with it. A traveling thief with a failed heist, a locked car, and no where to go. She didn't even know where the nearest motel was or where it could be, she was in the middle of a residential area after all...
Her gray eyes gazed into the warm-looking interior of the car longingly and she bumped her head against the window in frustration. Yuffie sighed. Fuck.
