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Final Fantasy VII: Angelic Threnody	By : DarkSeraphim1 Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1315 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core, Before Crisis, or Dirge of Cerberus. I do not profit from the writing and/or posting of this fic. I am just a humble fan paying tribute to another's wonderful creations.

Chapter List
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Chapter Eighteen
       ‘There is no hate, only joy. For you are beloved by the goddess. Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds.’ -Loveless, ACT II
            Rufus Shinra sat comfortably on his plush leather sofa, his gray-blue eyes never leaving those of the man before him. The great General Sephiroth, he thought with a smirk, not at all intimidated by the flat, icy silver-green orbs which stared unblinkingly into his own. In fact, as he broke eye contact to run his gaze over that long, lean, tautly muscled body, he thought that he understood Reno’s quazi-obsession with the man.
            When he brought his eyes up to the other’s, he wasn’t surprised to see one silver brow arched in an arrogant manner. Sephiroth had never been what one would call humble. That ridiculously striking silver hair, longer than he’d seen on any woman, framed a face that, by all rights, should have been androgynous. High cheekbones, smooth ivory skin, bow-shaped lips that quirked ever so slightly as he watched, the cat-like tilt to those exotic green eyes. . .
            Yet, Sephiroth was undeniably masculine, and would be even without the BDSM outfit he called a uniform. Rufus had no doubt that the Masamune, the sword nearly as legendary as its wielder, was not, by any means, compensation for a lack of anything. In fact, he wouldn’t be at all surprised to discover that the outrageously long odachi was more of a complimentary piece--so to speak.
            “General,” he said in a smooth voice, “perhaps, you will do me the honor of telling me why you are here?”
            More games. Sephiroth continued to stare at him unwaveringly, his gaze never moving beyond him, though he was fully aware of Tseng’s silent presence at his back. “I wish to put a more competent man in The President’s chair,” he stated bluntly. “I believe that you are that man.”
            “Really?” Rufus lifted one leg and set it crossways over the other. “You are aware, of course, that I am only fifteen? A child?” he added lightly.
            “You are no more a child than I was at your age,” Sephiroth returned, a rebuke buried in his too-deep voice.
            Pale blue-gray eyes sharpened on his. “You honor me,” he said neutrally.
            “No,” Sephiroth said with a slight shake of head, “I merely speak the truth.”
            Rufus laughed suddenly. “You know, not many people see anything other than the President’s son when they look at me.”
            “And very few have ever seen past the image Shinra has crafted for me,” Sephiroth replied with a shrug. “People see what they wish to, Rufus. We can use that to our advantage.”
            “How so?” the younger man asked with curiosity.
            Sephiroth smiled faintly. “I am feared, but I have never shown an interest in politics. You are perceived as a rich, spoiled child who has had everything handed to him, including the Vice Presidency. They will never see us coming.”
            Rufus smiled wolfishly as he leaned forward. “Tell me what you have in mind, Sephiroth. You don’t mind if I call you by your given name, do you?” he asked in afterthought.
            “Not at all—Rufus.”
            Sephiroth returned his smile with all of the malevolence of the god Jenova had once tried to make of him as he outlined his plan in detail. Rufus wasn’t afraid to speak up, pointing out flaws in his logic, or asking questions at the right times. As Sephiroth had told him, he was no child, and likely hadn’t been since his mother’s murder at his father’s hands.
            Rufus sat back when he was finished, his fine features taking on a thoughtful—if devious—cast. “And what do you get out of it?” he asked at length. “Surely, you must have some demands. I can’t imagine that even you would do something this dangerous without some sort of compensation.”
            “I have some. . .requests,” Sephiroth admitted, “as well as a recommendation or two.”
            “Mmmph.” Rufus made a controlled gesture with one slim hand, indicating that he should continue. “Go on.”
            “I would like you to consider Lazard Deusericus for Heidigger’s position as Director of Public Safety.”
            The younger man went completely still, his swift intake of breath not going unnoticed by either Sephiroth or Tseng. “Why Lazard?” he questioned, a faint tremor marring the smoothness of his voice. “He already runs part of the military as Director of SOLDIER.”
            Sephiroth nodded, sending pale silver hair sliding over his shoulders. “Yes, and he does it well. However, Heidigger is fool. After what he did to the Turks,” pale green eyes shot meaningfully to Tseng before returning to Rufus, “I am still surprised that he was allowed to keep his seat on the board, let alone given control of the regular army. Lazard is more than capable of running both. Though not a soldier, he is respected by all. The same cannot be said of Heidigger.”
            Rufus looked both suspicious and relieved as he let out a long breath. “Agreed,” he said simply. “Lazard will be made Director of Public Safety, so long as he agrees to accept the position after the transition has been made. What else?”
            “I want my plan to divide direct command of the SOLDIER troops between myself and my Firsts to be implemented immediately after you assume control.”
            A smirk curved Rufus’ lips at that. “Done. Next?”
            “Keep Reeve Tsuesti,” Sephiroth advised. “Give him the funds your father regularly denies him to better the living conditions in the slums. It will benefit you, and Shinra, in the long run.”
            “I hadn’t planned otherwise,” Rufus returned lightly. “Anything else concerning the Board?”
            “I could care less what you do with Scarlet,” Sephiroth said with a hint of disgust, “but I would advise getting rid of Palmer. He is a drain of company resources.”
            Rufus only nodded, his smug expression never changing. “And who would you ‘recommend’ as his replacement?”
            Sephiroth smiled a bit here; this one had been Cloud’s idea. “Cid Highwind.”
            Rufus stared at him blankly for a moment. “Never heard of him.”
            “He was the pilot who was originally assigned to lead the space rocket mission,” Sephiroth explained. “He’s a little rough around the edges, and his language is quite deplorable, but he’s an excellent pilot, and apparently quite the leader. His crew still follow his orders to this day. He would be an excellent choice for head of the Space Program.”
            A careless shrug of white-clad shoulders. “I’ll take a look at his file. What else?”
            “I want the care of all SOLDIER and SOLDIER candidates to be given to Dr. Hollander exclusively.”
            The smile faltered at that. “But Professor Hojo created SOLDIER--”
            “Hojo will not live long past your ascension.” Sephiroth smiled coldly at the unease which flashed across that deceptively youthful face. “He is a non-negotiable point, Rufus. I will personally put you in the President’s chair, but you must promise me Hojo, or I walk away now, and we never speak of this again.”
            Rufus looked every one of his fifteen years as he looked over his shoulder at his silent shadow. Tseng’s jet-black eyes flicked from him to Sephiroth and back before he nodded. Rufus turned back to him, his face pale but composed. “Hojo is yours,” he said in a quiet voice. “Anything else?”
            “Yes.” Sephiroth took the plain manila folder that had sat on his lap the entire time and set it on the table. “This, I’m afraid, is also non-negotiable. Once you look inside, you will understand why.”
            Rufus made a sharp gesture with one hand, and Tseng stepped forward to retrieve the file. He opened it first, a slight acceleration in his breathing pattern his only response to what lied inside. Sephiroth folded his arms over his chest and waited, hoping that Tseng’s influence with Rufus was enough to help him buy the freedom of his boys.
            Tseng finished the report, his dark, slanted eyes meeting Sephiroth’s. “How long have you known?” he asked, speaking for the first time.
            “Long enough to have instigated my own search,” Sephiroth answered, deliberately vague. “My results have been. . .unsatisfactory, to say the least.”
            The Wutaian man only inclined his head and handed the folder to his young charge. Rufus accepted it with a curious expression which quickly changed to one of horror. He looked up at Sephiroth, his ice-blue eyes huge, and swallowed hard. “My father allowed this?”
            “Yes,” Sephiroth answered in a quiet, if not quite gentle voice. “Those boys are my blood, Rufus. My only living relations, and I want them.”
            “They’re yours,” the young man whispered, the hushed words sounding like a promise. “I’ll do everything I can to find them for you, General.”
            Sephiroth exhaled silently and said, “Thank you, Rufus.”
            The boy only nodded as he closed the folder and dropped it onto the table between them. He cleared his throat, visibly gathering his composure, and sat back once more. “Is there anything more?”
            Sephiroth smiled suddenly, though it lacked warmth. “A personal request, if I may?”
            Rufus chuckled at that. “Something to do with General Rhapsodos, I presume?”
            Those patrician features closed without warning. “No, this has nothing to do with any of my men,” he answered flatly.
            The younger man’s expression brightened as he scented blood. “Really?” he questioned in a silky tone. “I would have thought. . .”
            “I would like to be paid directly, as any other employee of Shinra.”
            Rufus looked surprise as he said, “But I would have thought we paid you quite well, General Sephiroth.”
            Sephiroth shook his head negatively, scattering long silver locks. “I have an expense account, but no direct access to it. Anything withdrawals or charges must be personally approved by either your father, or Professor Hojo. I would like that to change as soon as possible.”
            The young man studied him closely before asking, “Might I ask why?”
            “I would like to see the world beyond Midgar,” Sephiroth answered truthfully. “I have never had a vacation, and I would like to take one someday. Perhaps, even with my. . .brothers.”
            “Oh.” Rufus blinked a few times as he considered that. “You’ve never really been outside of Midgar?”
            “Only when on assignment, and never for an extended period of time.”
            Well, that certainly sucked, Rufus thought with surprise. He’d never realized that his father kept THE General Sephiroth on such a tight leash. He wouldn’t have believed it possible. No wonder the great general was itching to overthrow the old bastard. Rufus certainly couldn’t blame him for that.
            “That’s something I can change,” Rufus told him confidently. “Once I’m in charge, you’ll have compete access to your hard-earned gil. That, I promise you.”
            “Thank you.”
            Rufus eyed him shrewdly. That’s not all,” he stated with certainty. “What else?”
            “I would request that General Hewley, General Rhapsodos, and Lieutenant Fair be sent elsewhere, whether on assignment or vacation, during this little coup de taut.”
            “Ah, plausible deniability.” Rufus grinned at that. “I’ll leave that part of it up to you, General. After all, you are their direct superior.”
            “Thank you.” Sephiroth rose to his feet in an inhumanly graceful motion. “I should leave you to discuss this amongst yourselves. Rufus, it has been a pleasure doing business with you.”
            The younger man merely laughed as he waved him away. “Tseng will see you out. Have a nice night, General.”
            Tseng stepped forward and gestured for Sephiroth to precede him. Sephiroth inclined his head and left the room, his every sense trained on the silent threat at his back. Tseng didn’t speak until they were in the entryway, pausing as he rested a hand on the ornate doorknob. “Why did you include Lazard in your list of demands?” he asked in a too-quiet voice.
            Sephiroth shrugged as he found himself gazing at the back of the man‘s head. “He is more than competent, and he deserves more than the President has given him. Perhaps, Rufus will acknowledge what his father would not.”
            “I hope that he will,” Tseng murmured in a low voice. “I thank you, General. Perhaps, this will help set the Director’s mind at ease concerning the circumstances of his birth.”
            “Perhaps,” was all Sephiroth said in response, even as he hid his surprise at Tseng’s unexpected choice of lovers. He could be wrong, of course, but he doubted it. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Commander?”
            Tseng turned to face him then, opening the door as he stepped aside. “Does Rhapsodos know what you’re doing for him?” he asked bluntly.
            Emerald eyes narrowed warningly on his. “No, nor do I want him to.”
            “I understand.” Tseng eyes softened, although he didn’t actually smile. “Good luck, General. You’ve set quite a. . .task for yourself.”
            Sephiroth grunted once. “I bid you good night, Turk. Protect your boy well. The world needs him.”
            The Wutaian man did smile at that, though he didn’t respond as he inclined his head. Sephiroth swept past him, all swirling silver hair and shiny black leather, and he shook his head briefly before closing the door. Sephiroth glanced over his shoulder, pausing for only a moment, before making his way to the elevators. He didn’t even glance at the door to his quarters. No one came to see him any more, and Hollander was waiting.
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            “Move your ass, yo. It’s tight in here.”
            No shit, Cloud thought caustically as he wriggled his way through a narrow air duct on the 67th floor. Aloud, he whispered, “I’m going as fast as I can. Why don’t you stop complaining and concentrate on that map. There’s an intersection coming up and I need to know which way to go.”
            “It’s called a blueprint, yo. How did you ever save the world when you don’t even know that?”
            Irritation had Cloud gritting his teeth as he came to a halt. “Which way, Reno?”
            “Left, yo. Left.”
            Cloud had to fight an almost irresistible urge to sneeze as his passage kicked up a miniature whirlwind of dust. It wasn’t quite as bad as being lost in the desert outside of The Gold Saucer, but it was close. Gods, didn’t Maintenance ever clean these things? He slithered to his left, rolling his eyes a Reno muttered uncomplimentary things about him,
Sephiroth, and life in general under his breath.
            He had to admit that his own memories of crawling through Shinra’s ventilation system weren’t all that great, but it was the only way they were going to get anywhere near Nanaki. Professor Hojo was a paranoid bastard, and no one but him could access his laboratory without tripping the not-so-silent alarm. This was the only way in after hours, and it sucked on so many levels that Cloud couldn’t even begin to name them all.
            His mind turned to Sephiroth, who had been raised in those labs, and his on-again/off-again relationship with Genesis Rhapsodos. “Reno, what can you tell me about Genesis?”
            Reno snorted behind him. “The man’s a dick, yo. He always has been and he always will be. I don’t know what Sephiroth sees in him.”
            “There’s got to be something,” Cloud said in protest. “Sephiroth’s not the type of man to led around by his. . .nose, and he told me that losing the guy was what broke him. So, tell me everything I don’t remember about Genesis Rhapsodos, so I can figure out how to stop Sephiroth from going insane, again.”
            “That’s why he went nuts?” Reno said incredulously. “You have got to be fucking kidding me, yo.”
            “Damn it, Reno--”
            “Chill, Strife. I’ll tell you what I remember.” For a few minutes there was only the sound of cloth and paper whispering against hollow metal. Cloud was on the verge of kicking the other man to get his attention when he finally began to speak. “He and Sephiroth hooked up right after the general’s second tour in Wutai. I think they were both around eighteen at the time. Rumor had it that Genesis was his first, and from what I could tell, his only, if you know what I mean.”
            “Ugh.”
            “Hey, you asked, yo.”
            “Yeah, I know.” Cloud shook off his disgust at the thought of Sephiroth having sex with anybody and focused on the implications of Reno’s words. “So, Sephiroth’s never. . .been with anyone but Genesis?”
            “Nope. Explains why he gave me that concussion, though. He’d probably never had anyone but General Asshole try to touch his, ah, sword before. I figure I probably freaked him out or something, yo.”
            “You felt him up?!” Cloud whispered furiously, aghast. “No wonder he hit you, numnuts. You’re damn lucky he didn’t kill you!”
            “Yeah, yeah, rub it in, yo. I just a kid back then, you know.”
            Cloud shook his head at that, grimacing as his spikes brushed the top of the vent, which sent more dust swirling down on top of them. “You’ve always had more balls than brains, Turk.”
            There was a smirk in Reno‘s voice as he said, “And then some, yo.”
            “Give it a rest,” Cloud snapped. “Tell me what Genesis was like after he found out that he was like Sephiroth.”
            “He fucking pissed, yo. He kept making clones by using his own cells on the SOLDIERs who’d deserted with him, and using those clones to attack Shinra. He was trying to find a cure for himself, but he wanted revenge, yo. And you know, I don’t really blame him. You should have seen him. He aged like overnight. His hair started to turn gray, and his skin got all wrinkly, and he grew a fucking wing. I’d have been pissed the hell off, too.”
            “Black feathers and crimson steel,” Cloud murmured to himself. Well, that certainly explained the image he’d got the first time he’d met Genesis. “So, he had a wing like Sephiroth’s?”
            “Yep. Black as fuck, sticking out of his left shoulder. Hewley’s was white, and on his right. I never saw that one, but Zack told me about it after he, uh, killed him.”
            Cloud winced at that. Being forced to kill Angeal had scarred Zack. Even while they were on the run, almost five years after it had happened, he had heard Zack talking to his dead lover through his own mako-induced coma. He had asked him for advice constantly, begged nightly for the man’s forgiveness, still guilt-ridden over what Angeal himself had forced him to do.
            “So, was it Jenova driving them, too?” he asked at length.
            “As weird as it was, no. According to Tseng, Hojo claimed that only people who had been injected with cells taken directly from Jenova’s brain could be affected by the ‘Reunion’ effect. Hollander was supposed to have used dead cells on Genesis and Angeal, so they weren’t affected.”
            Cloud frowned at that. “So, was it the dead cells that made them age, then?”
            “Probably. Can’t say for certain, though. Hojo never get his hands on either of them. Hewley. . .died, and Genesis just disappeared.”
            “Sephiroth told me that Genesis was in Nibelheim. It was Genesis who told him about the Jenova Project when he asked Sephiroth to help him. He thought that Sephiroth’s cells would cure him. Sephiroth turned him down.”
            “No way, yo.” Reno sounded shocked. “His Royal Hotness was crazy about him, yo. He turned down every mission they tried to send him on that involved Genesis. He was a wreck, yo, even if he didn’t show it. Why do you think I thought I had a shot with him?”
            Cloud sighed at that. “Sephiroth said that Jenova had taken advantage of his emotional state, and that’s part of why he turned him down.”
            “Well, he was a wreck, yo.. The only people he spoke to were Zack and Lazard, and towards the end, not even them. He spent all of his time either training in the VR Room, or locked away in his office. He even slept there, yo. Genesis fucked him all to hell when he took off. The jealous prick.”
            “Genesis was jealous of Sephiroth?” Cloud asked sharply.
            “Big time,” Reno informed him. “Every time they’d spar, Genesis would lose, and they’d break up, again. He hated being second best, even if they were bumpin’ uglies.”
            “Shit,” Cloud swore softly. And this was who Sephiroth was determined to save?
            “Yeah, we’re doomed, I know. Take a right up ahead, yo. The next vent cover’s it.”
            Cloud wiggled his way right at the next intersection, blinking as he came face to face with the slatted cover. “Well, that was quick,” he mumbled, reaching out to push the cover open. It gave with a squeak, falling to the floor with a clatter that seemed to echo through the room. “Reno, are you sure the cameras are off?”
            “Just get your ass in gear, Chocobo Boy. We don’t have all night.”
            “Asshole,” Cloud muttered as he very carefully climbed out of the vent and dropped to the floor below.
            He stepped aside and waited for Reno, who dropped down beside him with the Turk stealth that was so at odds with his loud personality. “I can’t see shit, yo. You know where we’re going, right?”
            “Yes.” Cloud knew his eyes were glowing as he crept silently through the deserted laboratory. He wove his way through the crates and cages--all empty, thank the Gods--that littered the room, approached the large, cylindrical glass pen that led to the pens below. If Nanaki wasn’t down there, they were screwed. He didn’t know where else to look. “Close your eyes.”
            He drew a deep breath and pressed the oversized red button on the side of the tank. A deep, mechanical rumbling sounded, and he watched with wary eyes, on hand on First Tsurugi’s hilt, as the floor began to slide apart in two sections. A slightly smaller glass enclosure rose within the tank, and Cloud closed his eyes just as the lights began to flare within it.
            “Hello, Cloud. I see you made the trip, as well.”
            Cloud smiled as he opened his eyes and pushed a smaller button below the red one. The door slid open, revealing one of his oldest friends, and the changes that traveling back in time had wrought in him. Nanaki was only slightly smaller than he had been during his time with Avalanche, but still sleekly muscled. His flank, unfortunately, still bore the XIII symbol that Hojo had branded into it, but Cloud was both astonished and glad to discover that Nanaki had both of his eyes.
            “It’s good to see you, my friend.” Cloud stepped back and watched fondly as Nanaki padded out of the pen, his tawny amber eyes locking on his former leader’s. “Did you come back for the child?”
            Cloud flushed even as he nodded. “I couldn’t leave it the way that it ended, Nanaki. I just. . .couldn’t.”
            Nanaki inclined his feline head once. “I understand, Cloud.”
            Cloud dropped to his knees and pulled the Gi to him. “I’m glad I got to you in time,” he whispered.
            “You always did take too much responsibility on yourself, my friend.” Nanaki gave a huffing sigh as he laid his head on Cloud’s shoulder. “But, I’m glad you did, too.”
            “So, you two want me to leave you alone, or what?”
            Cloud chuckled as he pulled away, gazing up at the red-headed Turk and extending his middle finger. “Nanaki, you remember Reno?”
            “How could I forget?” the Gi said dryly. “What could Gaia have been thinking?”
            “I haven’t figured that one out, yet, myself.” Cloud rose to his feet wearing a grin. “Are you ready to bust outta here?”
            “More than,” Nanaki returned simply.
            “Then, let’s mosey.”
            Reno snorted. “Out of all of Zack’s quirks, you would have to pick that one to remember, wouldn’t you?”
            “You can bite me, Reno.”
            “Sorry, Cloud, but you’re not my type, yo.”
            Cloud only shook his head negatively. “Come on, we’ve got to get Nanaki back to my room without being seen.” He looked down at his friend, whose fiery tail swayed back and forth, and smiled somberly. “I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
            “I’d imagine so.” Nanaki returned his gaze steadily. “Have you gone to see Aerith, yet?”
            The smile died a quick death. “No, I was hoping you would be willing to do that for me.”
            Nanaki made a low humming sound. “Get me out of here, and you can tell me what you have in mind.”
            Cloud nodded firmly and turned away, determination etched into every line of his slim body. “Just follow me.”
            As Nanaki and Reno turned to do just that, Cloud was filled with a profound sense of hope. If he was able to spare his friend six more years of torture at Hojo’s hands, then he had the chance to change things for Kadaj and his brothers. It will work out, he told himself reassuringly. He would find Kadaj, free him, and the boy would forgive him for taking his life. There was simply no other alternative.
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Final Fantasy VII: Angelic Threnody