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Broken and Bonded Refrain	By : Crya2Evans Category: Final Fantasy VII > General Views: 837 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
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- 16
Tseng/Sephiroth
"Before The Dawn"

Meet me after dark again, and I'll hold you.

�General
Sephiroth.�

The
silver-haired man tipped his head in greeting. �Tseng. Veld was unable to make
it, I presume?� he asserted as he moved smoothly around the conference table,
sliding with grace into one of the empty chairs.

Tseng
nodded. �It is his usual way to send me in his place. I am in charge of most of
the Turks� daily affairs. Undoubtedly, you are aware of that.� He found his own
chair and sat down, unable to take his gaze off of Sephiroth. There was
something about the General that called for every eye in the room to be on him,
and Tseng was no less affected.

The
other members of the tactics council began to file in, each face carrying a
certain title of respect. But Tseng paid no attention to any of them; it was
difficult enough to remain still when all his eyes wanted to do was gravitate
towards Sephiroth. Yes, there was something in him indeed.

�I
hear he has already named you his successor,� the General replied smoothly,
making polite conversation, as it always seemed to be between them. �I am
certain that you are the best man for the position.� Beneath the table, his
foot sought to tap out a beat, mirroring the slight nervousness he felt within.
Only his willpower kept it still.

Silver
eyes almost shone with pride as he graciously accepted the compliment. �It will
be hard to follow in such a man�s footsteps. I only hope I can live up to his
example,� he returned easily, outward composure calm but inwardly fluttering
like a whole band of butterflies had settled in his chest.

Every
encounter was like this, dancing around each other, speaking only words that
were appropriate for the setting. Inwardly, both felt something more than just
mutual respect, however. Inside their hearts and desires, there was something
else entirely, although neither risked saying it aloud.

I am nothing more than to see you there.

Watching the General Sephiroth in motion was nothing less
than exquisite. He moved with the sword as if it was made for him, each step
calculated and fluid. The Masamune danced through the air, silver blade
flashing in the sunlight. His hair trailed behind him like a fall of molten
steel. He had even removed his upper garments, which left him clad in nothing
but black leather pants that hugged to every curve and muscle, making Tseng�s
imagination go to places it was not supposed to go. He should not have been
thinking such thoughts about an untouchable man. But that didn�t stop them from
coming.

Even from afar he could see the thin trails of sweat that
snaked lightly down tanned skin, flexing on a well-muscled torso. Sephiroth�s
chest heaved with exertion, breath coming in sharp pants that made Tseng�s own
slacks tighten. He licked his lips without noticing, hands twitching at his
side with the unmistakable urge to touch.

It was impossible, however, at least in his mind. He could
get no closer to Sephiroth than his current position, watching from across the
way in his office, looking down at the training center. Even when speaking to
him, they might as well have been that far apart. There was a line he dare not
cross, despite how much he wanted to. Rules, regulations, his own personal
fears kept Sephiroth at bay, kept Tseng from taking that first step.

He was so engrossed in watching the General Sephiroth train
that he almost didn�t hear the footsteps behind him.

�Tseng.�

He turned to find his Commander standing there, giving him a
curious expression. Immediately, he regained his composure, managing his usual
impassive and collected expression. No matter how much his gaze wanted to stray
back to the window, he did not turn again. Still, in his mind�s eye he could
see the General, mako green irises glowing with determination and strength,
boots sliding in a perfect rhythm against the sand.

�Yes, sir?�

And maybe tonight, we'll fly so far away.

We'll be lost before the dawn.

They
were in the ShinRa building, walking down a corridor on one of the levels; it
didn�t really matter which. Sephiroth wasn�t paying much attention to his
surroundings. Instead, he devoted all of his concentration to the man walking
at his side. Somehow, the dark-haired Turk had crawled under his skin, and
Sephiroth was damn sure he did not understand why. Still not used to
interacting with people, he found himself at a loss for communicating with the
man outside of their vocation, which explained the reason they were speaking on
this particular day.

�I
found several young men that seemed to be of the proper caliber for SOLDIER. Of
course, your assessment is crucial as to whether or not they will actually be
allowed to register,� Tseng was saying, eyes scanning a few documents that he
was flipping through. Every so often, a lock of hair would fall in his eyes,
and he would stubbornly push it back behind his ear. He had already explained
to Sephiroth that he had forgotten the tie for it back in the office.

The
General nodded, listening intently but actually allowing his gaze to roam over
the shorter man. Taking in skin just a shade darker than his own, intent silver
eyes, Tseng was actually broader than he looked. Somehow, the Wutaiian had the
appearance of being a small man when he was nearly the same size of Sephiroth,
height excluded. Perhaps it was the delicate features of his face. The General
couldn�t quite be sure, but everything about the Turk fascinated him.

�The
Turks have been remarkably useful in scouting out new recruits for the army,�
he responded, taking a few documents from the Turk�s hold, something inside of
him jolting when his fingers briefly brushed over the back of Tseng�s hand. He
so rarely forgot to wear his gloves, so the feel of another�s flesh beneath his
fingertips was surprising. How could a man�s skin be that smooth?

A
slight smirk tugged at the corner of the Wutaiian�s mouth. �Yes, well, it is
what you do not know that actually works in our favor. There are often
candidates for the Turks among those we find.� He searched through his papers,
seeking a certain one, and then frowning when he realized the young man�s
profile was in the stack he had handed to Sephiroth.

He
reached over to point to the profile and found green eyes watching him
intently. He nearly faltered, swallowing thickly before tapping the picture of
the young man.

�This
one, in particular, may not have the stamina for SOLDIER, but his cunning is
more than useful for us.� The moment the words came out of his mouth, he
regretted them. Stamina� it brought to mind far more interesting things than
discussing recruits for the ShinRa army. He idly wondered just how well the
General had been built.

�Stamina
can be overcome with training,� Sephiroth mused aloud.

Tseng
nodded in agreement, suddenly feeling as if the hall had gotten several degrees
warmer. He took several quiet and calming breaths, feeling his libido respond
as it tended to do whenever he was around Sephiroth. He hastily shoved the last
of the reports into the General�s hands, the proximity sending a wash of
whatever scent that Sephiroth wore in his general direction. His slacks
tightened uncomfortably.

�Yes,
well. I am certain that you are capable of handling any further decisions,� he
commented, hating how quickly his words came out and much his hands were
beginning to tremble. Desire raged within him so strongly that he didn�t know
if he could stop himself from touching.

�Good
evening, General.� Tseng tilted his head in farewell and was gone before the
somewhat confused man could even say another word.

It
was more dancing around each other, and any more he might concede defeat. There
was only so much self-control a man could hold before he broke.

If only night can hold you where I can see you, my love.

His dreams were haunted by visions of things that he
wanted but could not have. Hands caressing his flesh, a warm mouth descending
on his sex. He saw flashes of silver hair and glowing eyes, the General�s
smooth baritone whispering naughty thoughts in his ear. He was sweating before
he knew it, tossing and turning on his bed as desire raced through his body from
the nearly real dream. He could almost feel every touch, smell the scent of
arousal on the air, and taste Sephiroth on his tongue.

He wanted the General so badly that he burned from
it, and no matter what he tried, whom he fucked, he couldn�t get the man out of
his head. And it haunted him. Those lips descending on his body, teeth nibbling
on peaked nipples, sinking deep inside of the man until he came undone,
silently pleading for more.

In
his dreams, they were together. It was only at night that he could see them as
he wanted it to be. But always the morning came with the unfortunate
realization that it was nothing more than a fantasy. That his bed was still
cold and empty. Except he had to change the sheets.

Then, let me never ever wake again.

He
wasn�t a man who flirted shamelessly, not like Zack. He had only kissed one
person in his life, not sure how to handle people beyond the walls he had built
around himself. Still, that didn�t stop his dreams from venturing into
territories he had never experienced for himself. Zack had explained the
mechanics of homosexual copulation, and Sephiroth�s imagination was quite
vivid.

And
one person always starred the main role. A curtain of dark hair around shining
metallic eyes. Kisses, endless kisses raining down on his flesh, fingers curled
over his arousal and stroking him. His skin was heated, his breath came short,
and he tossed and turned in his sleep, unable to escape from the desire that
haunted even his rest. He had never wanted anything so much in his entire life.

It
was only in his dreams, those breathtaking feelings. No matter what he saw of
Tseng, there was never anything more. Beyond his walls and his bed, it seemed
there never could be anything more. He turned over, and his bed was still cold
and empty. Except he usually had to change his sheets.�

And maybe tonight, we'll fly so far away.

�You
were looking for the General?� Rude questioned, coming to a stop just behind
Tseng. He folded his hands in front of his body as he waited for the impassive
man to acknowledge his presence.

The
Wutaiian nodded. �Yes. I needed to discuss something about the recruitment with
him.� It was actually a lie, but there was no way in hell Tseng was going to
tell the truth. He couldn�t tell his subordinate that he planned to confront
Sephiroth finally, that he couldn�t let the insanity go on any longer. Come
what may.

�He
has gone on a mission,� Rude explained. �It�s in Nibelheim, inspecting one of
those reactors that has been spewing out monsters.�

Tseng
raised a brow. �The same that killed Zelion just last week?�

His
only response was a silent nod. Tseng would have to wait until the General
returned to make his move. If he could hold out that long.

We'll be lost before the dawn.

Those monsters, those things in the tank, were they the same
as him? Was Sephiroth nothing more than an experiment, not a real human at all?

There were so many questions floating around him, so many
that he couldn�t even concentrate on one before another cropped up. And JENOVA,
the strange creature in the back of the mako reactor. That was the name of his
mother, or so Hojo had always claimed.

What was he? Who was he?

Sephiroth haunted the basement of the mansion, barricading himself inside and
poring through text after text, digging up one laboratory finding after
another. He interpreted the scrawling handwriting of one deranged scientist,
finding his own name more often than he could count. His stomach heaved in his
body as nausea clawed at his belly.

The nightmares, everything he had thought to be only some
horrible dream, they were all true. He was nothing more than a monster. They
had lied to him! Everyone had lied to him! It was�

�late in the night when the voices started talking to him,
warning him in their garbled tones and screams. He couldn�t understand a word
of it, cringing as he curled up into a ball and shoved a pillow over his head,
as if it would somehow drown out their cries. Tseng tried to build up a wall,
but they refused to be silenced. So many voices, too many for him to
comprehend.

Why? Why wouldn�t they leave him alone? Why couldn�t he just
run away?

And then, the vision came, so bright and vivid that he
jerked upright in his bed, heart racing in his chest as his eyes moved without
seeing. Fire and pain, confusion and hatred, all swirling inside of him as his
heart literally ached. They screamed at him, louder and louder, becoming a mass
of both warning and misery inside of him.

He couldn�t take it anymore.

Somehow, I know that we can�t wake again from this dream.

Tears
poured from Tseng�s eyes, but he could no more stop them then he could the rise
and fall of his katanas, slicing viciously down each monster in his path. The
slaughter did nothing to ease the ache deep inside of himself, but he continued
anyways. He ignored every splash of his blood on his body, on his face. He
ignored the rain pouring down around him and the monster�s screams of pain and
terror.

In
his mind�s eye, every nuance of the vision haunted him. So much desperation and
pain, so much loathing, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, nothing
to prevent the agony. His gut clenched, and his sword fell once more, cleaving
smoothly through the flesh of another monster. He felt the sword hit bone,
heard the splash of blood. But it was not enough.

Nothing
he tried or screamed or snarled or killed could slay what was raging inside of
him. Sephiroth had--

The
thought died in his head, and he stabbed into the gut of another monster,
silently asking that more and more come so that he could claim their lives as�

�rage and
madness churned in mako green eyes when Sephiroth stepped out of the mansion.
His eyes fell on the town, sleepy little Nibelheim. In his mind, Jenova
whispered her sweet words of seduction.

They
were to blame. They had ignored his screams; they had feigned ignorance of
ShinRa�s doings. They had supported Hojo in his madness, and they had lied to
him.

Fire
flickered on the edge of his vision as he stalked into the village, something
moving just behind his sight. He turned without thought, the inferno raging
inside of him spreading out from his body and engulfing the person immediately.
He ignored the screams; they were nothing compared to his pain.

His
sword rose and fell quickly as more of the residents came running out of their
homes. He ruthlessly burned down every building, setting fire to every
establishment. He cackled as they burned; he watched as blood stained the
ground. She whispered in his ear of their guilt, promising him that the pain
would go away if he rid himself of all of them.

But
most of all, Jenova called to him. He was not going to disobey. His mother
needed him, and together, they would find their paradise.

Maybe tonight, we'll fly so far away.

They
were in his way, trying to stop him from getting to his mother. He recognized
their faces, Zack and Cloud. He didn�t want to hurt them, but she was screaming
inside his head; she demanded their deaths and their blood. He fought Zack, but
he couldn�t kill him. He begged his own body to stop, but he wouldn�t listen.
Sephiroth�s madness enveloped him, and he couldn�t hold on to a single tear.

He
saw it, the blood staining Masamune�s blade. He felt the echoes of screams and
the reflection of himself in the metal. He was a monster. Nothing better than
those creatures in the tanks.

Two voices screamed in his head as Zack rushed him again. His dear friend grim
but determined, crystalline eyes shining with fear and regret. Jenova screamed
for death; he desperately tried to stop�

�screaming.
His voice was hoarse, his entire body shaking. He could feel his blood pumping
through his veins, bleeding out through the many wounds on his body, but he
couldn�t find the strength in him to stop. He had exhausted his magic, reduced
to using blades already stained with the fluids of those creatures he had
viciously slain.

Voices
echoed around him, guttural monster cries. Someone begging him to quit before
he killed himself, a familiar voice that he just couldn�t place. The voices
inside of him still crying for the chance forever lost, for the pain and
suffering that Sephiroth endured and the slaying of all those people. He
couldn�t stop their screams, no matter how much he bathed in blood. He carried
such a rage inside of him, tainted by a deeply seeded melancholy that no amount
of tears could ease.

He
wanted to cease, needed to stop, but it was far too late.

We'll be lost before the dawn.

She
promised that they would be together, that at the end of the rainbow there was
his chance to live in a Promised Land. Jenova said that if he dove into the
mako, he would no longer be a monster, that he could live somewhere happy. That
he could wash all that blood of his hands. And he listened to her, even when
somewhere deep inside a voice screamed that she was wrong.

He
remembered the look on Zack�s face; he recalled Cloud�s absolute fear and
determination. His heart ached, and the rage was still present, still churning
his blood. Her words were a sweet poison in his mind, promising so many things.

And
so he leapt over the railing, flying briefly through the air like a bird,
freedom in his grasp. The bright luminescence grew closer and closer, inviting
him in with subtle seduction, and for a moment, he almost believed that
everything was going to be all right. Until the pain hit, the familiar
wrenching, agonizing burn that enveloped his entire body as he was encased
within the mako. Jenova�s cackles of glee echoed around him, a maniac cry that
caused him to silently scream and�

�sob
without ending now, his katanas dangling from weary hands. His heart ached; his
stomach churned. His throat was raw, and he vaguely realized that somewhere he
was bleeding. It was all a hopeless dream that had faded before the dawn.

He
sunk to his knees as someone called his name, and a hand laid on his shoulder.
He recognized Reno through the din of his conscious, realized that the younger
Turk was trying to help him. He gave into the aid reluctantly, unable to even
move his body in protest. He was tired, so incredibly tired, but the voices,
they� were finally silent.

Maybe tonight, we�ll fly so far away.

He could only watch as
Jenova controlled his body, doing things he would have never done himself and
letting others believe he was nothing more than a murderous and ruthless
bastard. He wanted to scream and cry and rage, but he could do nothing, only
silently hope that the next death would be the last. That the next time she
fucked with Cloud�s mind or spilled blood would be the last.

But when they entered the
Temple of the Ancients, the first person he saw was Tseng, and all those old
feelings came rushing back with a vengeance. The Turk�s back was to him,
obviously unaware of what was about to happen as he spoke into his cell phone,
trying to explain some obscure order.

Sephiroth felt Jenova draw
the Masamune and absolute horror filled him to the core. He screamed and
pleaded for her to stop, but she only cackled within his mind at him. He saw
himself, blade raised, prepared to strike through the back.

He shouted for Tseng to turn
or run or even notice his death, but his voice went unheard. The Masamune
flashed in the torchlight, stabbing forward� only Tseng turned at the last
minute, catching sight of his would-be murderer as the blade cleaved directly
through his stomach.

The silver eyes that widened
in disbelief would forever haunt Sephiroth as Jenova yanked out the blade and
stood watching Tseng slump to the floor, blood already spreading in a pool
around him. And then, Jenova sauntered by, as if she had not just taken another
life. There was nothing�

�he could have done. The
voices had screamed at him to move, pounding relentlessly in his brain until he
ached with the effort of keeping them quiet. They had cried out for him to run,
to turn, that his death was approaching. And in a final act of desperation to
make them quiet, he had turned, only to see Sephiroth bearing down upon him.

There had been no chance to
avoid the fiery pain that ripped from his abdomen, and though he wished he
hadn�t, Tseng had looked into green eyes clouded over with insanity. He had
seen an evil smirk on perfect lips, and the scene would stay forever fresh in
his mind. He hadn�t believed that Sephiroth truly was alive until that moment,
even if the look in his eyes wasn�t the same.

Now, he slumped on the
floor, blood draining from his body and his mind spinning with shock, agony,
even swirling with feelings of betrayal and a longing that felt like another
stab through the gut. He struggled to remain alive, fingers automatically
hitting speed-dial for Reno�s cell phone. He managed to gasp out what had
happened just before AVALANCHE arrived. And after handing over the keystone, he
considered his part in this insane mockery to be over.

He slipped into oblivion.

We�ll be lost before the dawn.

Tseng�s
eyes widened in shock at Cloud�s words, nearly staggering backwards from the
surprise of it.

Sephiroth?
That was Sephiroth?

Wind
roared in his ears as he scarcely paid attention to the argument between them.

The
man he had rescued, had pinned to the ground, and had talked with so clearly,
was the man who he had longed for more than five years past? The man who had
died and sent Tseng into a murderous rampage among the monsters? Who the voices
cried over for days, and Tseng mourned as if he was a family member or a lover?
Who had very nearly killed him in the Temple of the Ancients? The very same man
who haunted his dreams?

His
world spun off its axis with this revelation, one thought prevalent in his
mind, wanting and needing it to be true.

It
was a second chance.�

-�� -�� -�� -

Song credits, �Before the
Dawn� by Evanescence
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Broken and Bonded Refrain

Maybe tonight, we�ll fly so far away.

We�ll be lost before the dawn.