Angels In Flight

Author’s Note: I forgot to make a note of the song I used for part one; it was ‘Between Breaths’ by Blaqk Audio. Part two is ‘Open Your Eyes’ by Snow Patrol.

In this chapter there’s a tiny dash of crossover, but only Kingdom Hearts fans will spot it.

Part II

Open Your Eyes

When I first met you, Genesis, I didn’t know what it was I was feeling. My childhood had been one spent almost entirely in the halls of Shinra, or the cold, clinical laboratory Hojo periodically locked me away in. I only ever saw the sky on television, and it was usually dotted with war machines. I’d never seen plants or animals growing wild. All knowledge of the outside world was secondhand. My world was empty and industrial.

And on top of it all, I’d never learned anything of human emotion.

Then you came along. A fiery, lively creature who was the opposite of me in every way. You were something I’d never had in my lonely, sedate life. You were companionship, you were life, you were light. And I fell in love with you.

You showed me a part of life that I had never known. One moment you could be sitting with perfect decorum, reading to me from your precious poem, the next regaling me with tales of life in the country.

All this feels strange and untrue
And I won’t waste a minute without you.

Overnight, my life went from a bleak interlude between sessions with Hojo to something I looked forward to. Every morning I would wake and silently rejoice knowing I would see you the moment I left my room.

You and Angeal were the only friends I’d ever had.

When you and I became lovers, I at first didn’t know how to react. Sure, I’d been taught about sex in all its forms—bless Midgar’s education system—but like everything else in my life it had been a cold, technical education. My teachers had never delved into the complexities of emotion and feeling that accompanied such an intimate act. Never had they even used the word ‘lover’.

But apparently, handling emotion is—like a great many things—instinctual.

And so, from then on, we were lovers. My life became the joyous interlude between our lovemaking. I’ll never forget Angeal’s face when you asked him where one would find lubricant. The way he frowned in confusion, looked at you, and then at me, his eyebrows climbing. He looked so utterly shocked. Of course, I don’t think he was impressed when we started to laugh.

Two weeks after we first started sleeping together, however, came the life-altering event which was, as I see it, the beginning of the end for us. Mako treatment. The milestone that marked the end of life as a trainee, and the beginning of life as a SOLDIER. The milestone that marked the end of your life as a human, and the beginning of your degradation.

We were told that reactions to the volatile substance ranged from the most negligible of headaches to full-blown radiation sickness. Everyone reacted differently.

We went in together, the three of us. I remember Angeal being nervous and you being excited. “This is the day everything changes,” you said. How right you were.

I barely reacted. In fact, my headache probably stemmed from lack of sleep, not Mako. The upped dosage made me feel stronger, but I’d always had Mako in my system—from the day I was born.

Angeal got a migraine and was pretty shaky. For hours he sat in a cold sweat, but he was fine by nightfall.

You, however, were not. The doctors declared your reaction ‘severe’. Sores opened on your skin, you broke out in a sweat, shaking and tremoring uncontrollably. I remember Hollander saying that your fever was at a hundred and four. You were only semi-conscious.

I stayed with you the whole night. I held you when you writhed in some unspoken agony. I helped you stumble to the bathroom when you started throwing up. I held the damp cloth to your forehead, trying to lower your temperature.

When dawn broke and your fever was finally gone, I was there when you woke. I could never forget seeing your eyes open; those bright, azure irises now glowing with an internal light. Mako light.

We graduated training at the top of our class, and after our exam, the instructors decided we were ready for real combat.

Our first mission was on an island near Wutai. We were led by SOLDIER 1st Class Samuel Thrain; one of our instructors. A tall, golden-haired man with no sense of humour. A fact you abhorred.

It was supposed to be a simple op. Go in, eliminate the Wutai troops, and come home. What none of the Turks had anticipated, however, was that the Wutai had learned to use some of the rare materia and equipment that they’d stolen from hijacked transports.

You and I weren’t yet trained to deal with Summons. I’d never even seen a Bahamut, nor had you. So when the intricate seal lit and hovered in the air before the Wutai commander, you and I both froze with fear.

”Both of you, run, get out of here!” Samuel shouted, activating the materia melded into his arm, covering the limb in crackling, magical flames.

Sephiroth reacted first, grabbing Genesis’ arm and pulling him back, away from the materializing beast before them.

“Shouldn’t we work together?” Genesis asked, his grip tightening around the hilt of his longsword.

“No! You can’t handle something like this!” Samuel roared. “Get out of here! Now! That’s an order!”

With an unearthly scream, the Bahamut solidified, its armoured body and taloned feet crashing to the earth. Tremors shook the buildings and trees around them. A fanged maw opened, golden eyes flashing amidst spines, ridges, and horns. Two vast, black wings spread to dim the sky; a long tail thrashing the air.

Sephiroth dragged his frozen lover away from the terrifying creature, his own heart pounding furiously. As they made it into the trees the first clang of steel on metallic hide rang in the air.

My bones ache, my skin feels cold
And I’m getting so tired and so old.

I remember reaching the hilltop nearby with you still in a daze. We rested for a few seconds before we braved a glance below to where Samuel was battling the Summon. He did things I’d never seen a human do before. He threw fire effortlessly; he cleaved through magical blasts, coming out without a scratch. He fired waves of energy off his sword like shockwaves, all the while defying gravity in a way I hadn’t thought possible.

But I could see his faltering footwork. I could see the way he favored his left leg. I was horrified—but not surprised—when the Bahamut landed that first, devastating blow.

I felt you flinch next to me as Samuel stumbled, and heard your low gasp when the Bahamut’s tail came down, the scorpion-like tip piercing the blond SOLDIER and nailing him to the ground.

Your eyes were wide, and I saw my own fear reflected in their depths as the man who had been one of our mentors slowly died, bleeding out on the grassy Wutai soil.

“He’s dead…” you whispered, as if you couldn’t believe it. I just stared.

The days following that were long and grueling. Constantly we were running; constantly we were fighting. The Bahamut remained on the prowl, and it was enough of an effort to avoid it.

You hid your fear well, even when we started running out of supplies. Never once did you complain.

”That was our last Cure Materia,” Sephiroth remarked, rummaging through his quickly emptying pack. They’d scavenged food from Wutai soldiers they’d killed, but there was no replacing their used up materia.

Genesis pulled a knee up to his chest, his eyes hollow with weariness and grief. “What do we do now?”

“We’ve got two more days before we’re late. They’ll send the Turks to look into it. Then we get an evac.”

“What if we can’t last that long?” Genesis asked, shivering where he sat, leaned against the rocky cave wall. His hair was drenched with sweat, hanging limply around his exhausted face. Dirt smudged his cheeks and hands, scrapes and scuffs blemishing his skin.

Four days of combat was starting to show.

“We have to,” Sephiroth replied.

I was so afraid over those long days that I would lose you. Seeing a 1st Class—Sam—die so suddenly made me realize that at any moment that could be us. A stray Wutai bullet, an unparried blade, the Bahamut. There were dozens of ways we could have died.

With each engagement we grew more and more exhausted. Each fight drained us a little more. I put on a brave face for you, but I was terrified.

I tried to protect you. After all, you may have been one of the most powerful people to walk the halls of Shinra, but I was still the stronger, and I loved you. That made it my responsibility to keep you safe.

But in the midst of battle, I couldn’t always look out for you. With how exhausted we both were, that very nearly killed you.

Sephiroth’s katana cleaved the last Wutai man almost in half—right shoulder to belly. Blood splattered to the rocky floor, pooling darkly around Sephiroth’s boots. Sparkling green light illuminated the cavern as the dozens of dead soldiers began to return to the Lifestream.

As his heart returned to a normal rhythm, Sephiroth turned to look for Genesis. He’d last seen his mercurial companion on the nearby ledge, but all he saw there now—outlined in Mako teal in the pitch-blackness—were three Wutai troopers.

The enemy men chuckled and glanced down, and Sephiroth’s eyes inevitably followed. There, lying motionless in the murky water below, was Genesis.

The anger swells in my guts
And I won’t feel these slices and cuts

Rage boiled in Sephiroth’s stomach and he launched himself at the gloating men, moving with a speed and ferocity he’d never known himself capable of. Before the men could even shout in alarm, Sephiroth had cut them down, his blade slitting throats and gutting each target with clinical precision.

He didn’t linger to bask in his victory. The instant the Wutai hit the ground, dead, Sephiroth dove from the ledge, gracefully floating down to where the too-still form of Genesis lay submerged.

Heedless to his own discomfort, to the slices and wounds that burned and stung—not healing despite the Mako in his blood—he grabbed hold of Genesis and hauled him from the water.

He was heavy. Waterlogged and limp, his eyes closed, his skin pale. In the dim light provided by the work lamps near the water’s edge Sephiroth could see that the other SOLDIER’s lips had taken on a distinctly bluish colour.

Part of him panicked. They were out of Cure Materia. They had no potions. For a split second he thought there was nothing he could do. Then he remembered the first aid he’d been taught before he entered SOLDIER. The civilian stuff. Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation—CPR.

Without another moment of hesitation, Sephiroth leaned down, breathing into Genesis’ open mouth—once, twice—before beginning compressions. How many was he supposed to do? Breath, listen, breath… fifteen… fifteen compressions. He was sure that was right.

The next minute and a half felt like an eternity. Breaths, compressions, breaths, compressions. Sephiroth didn’t stop, even when he started to feel slightly light-headed himself.

“Come on, Gen…” he hoarsely urged, leaning in and breathing into him again. “Come back, please.”

He was about to go in for the second breath when, with a jolt, Genesis coughed. Water spilled from his mouth as he choked and gagged, gasping for air.

“Gen?!”

Grasping hands latched to Sephiroth’s shoulders and bright, terrified eyes opened. Clumps of soaking wet cinnamon hair stuck to a forehead dotted with glistening beads of water.

“Seph?” Genesis’ voice was a pitch higher than normal, and gravelly when he spoke. He clutched fistfuls of Sephiroth’s sweater, shivering in a combination of fear and chills.

“I’m here,” Sephiroth assured, brushing soggy hair from Genesis’ eyes. “It’s okay.”

Genesis made no move to sit up; he just lay in the sand, shaking like a leaf. Fresh cuts on his arms seeped blood, stains new and old darkened his ribbed uniform sweater.

“Can you walk?” Sephiroth asked.

Genesis blinked, still slightly dazed, but nodded all the same.

After that, I made sure I stayed close to you. Even when it was only ordinary Wutai infantrymen. The exhaustion we were feeling was getting to you more, and I was terrified you’d pay for it. But despite that exhaustion, you did something—as we faced the Bahamut and the Turk rescue party circled overhead—that I’d never seen anyone do before. Not even the 1st Classes that had trained us.

You raised your arm, and with the last whisps of the Fire Materia equipped there, you sent out duel volleys of fireballs, sending them streaking toward the already injured beast in formation. Some struck, others missed, but through some inexplicable newfound skill, you called them back. They wheeled about, and made another pass. Each hit its target.

I remember, as the Bahamut dissolved into blue light—returning to whatever alternate dimension it came from—being so proud of you I could have cheered. Relief and amazement mingled with bone-deep weariness and the pain of a hundred cuts and bruises, but all I could feel was pride.

That was the day you became the Genesis that I see now.

I want so much to open your eyes
Cause I need you to look into mine.

After that mission they gave us a month’s leave to recover. To lick our wounds, as Angeal put it.

The Turks who’d witnessed our victory congratulated you for taking down the Bahamut. Even our former instructors were impressed by how you’d harnessed the Materia.

But you kept insisting that Samuel did most of the work. Maybe you were right, but the killing blow was yours, and that—as I told you—counted for something.

For me, a month’s leave meant a month of hanging around Midgar with nothing to do. When you discovered that I had no family to go to, you insisted that I go to Banora with you, to stay with yours. You knew I’d never seen the countryside, never even seen a blue sky besides Wutai’s. And to be honest, I hadn’t really been paying attention, despite the beauty of it. We’d had more pressing matters on the mission.

Angeal assured me that I would love Banora. He told me about the Dumbapples, and about the calm, relaxed air; the perfect climate, the people. He said I’d be amiss not to go.

And anyway, a month with you without training in the way. What more could I want?

It felt sort of nice to leave my uniform behind. It had started to feel like a second skin, and I didn’t know if I liked that.

You were wearing that red wool coat again when we got in the Helicopter. It suited you so well, and I wondered why you didn’t wear it more often. But then again, we didn’t get many chances to wear civvies.

I’d chosen the jet-black peacoat you’d said was your favorite, and I remember the slight smirk on your face when I joined you and you saw it.

Despite the ordinary clothes, we would still have stood out like sore thumbs. SOLDIERs were easy to spot. Not many ordinary people walked around with eyes that glowed with Mako.

The flight to Banora would have been boring had it not been for you. I think you read me the entirety of LOVELESS that day. I’d never heard it all the way through before and you read it with such flair and enthusiasm that I couldn’t help but wonder why. It was a beautiful story, everyone seemed to know it—by the book or the play—but I’d never come across it. I think I realized then just how much I’d been missing. Growing up in a lab had isolated me more than I had known.

We landed in the courtyard of your parents’ orchard at noon, and the first thing that hit me was the quiet. There was no traffic noise, no reactor roar. Just birdsong and the rustle of wind in the leaves.

Your parents seemed surprised to see me with you, but at the same time looked as if they’d expected company. I remember asking your mother if you had a habit of bringing home strays. I don’t know how much of my past you’d explained to her but her eyes betrayed a deep pity—and perhaps empathy. A stray—I suppose that’s what I was.

That month, at your house—which was the most beautiful dwelling I had ever seen—was the best month of my life. Each morning I woke in the same room as your smiling face; had a real breakfast with a real family. Each night I retreated with you to your room and for a few sweet hours we would share the same bed, the same breath, the same sweat.

I don’t know if your parents ever figured out what we were up to. They could have easily caught us—but they never did. I reckon your father suspected, but he never said a thing.

I lost count of how many times we made love under the branches of your parents’ orchard. How many times I sank myself inside you and those azure eyes lit with pleasure. How many times I heard your voice climb through the pitches until you sang your ecstasy to the sky.

As we lay there together—under the sunny blue sky and the rustling leaves, our bodies entwined in the silky grass—how many apples do you reckon we ate? Just one of those things I never bothered counting.

The month flew by. I would have given anything to stay there in Banora with you forever, but duty beckoned. We knew that we would have to return, and that we would eventually have to face everything that had nearly broken us.

Three nights before the Turks came to pick us up we slipped from the house just after dinner and walked up the hill overlooking your orchard—the windmill and the house behind us. We sat there watching the sun dip below the horizon, and the stars twinkle to life in the inky sky.

Sephiroth rummaged through the pocket on his coat, pulling a small, star-shaped fruit from its depths.

“Hey, Gen,” he began. “Angeal’s mother gave me this. She said you’d like it.” He held it out to Genesis.

“What is it?”

“A Paopu fruit,” Sephiroth replied. “Apparently they’re rather hard to come by.”

Genesis took the fruit in his hand and studied it. Its skin was yellow and leathery; its bulk taking up his whole hand, yet weighing next to nothing.

“She said that if you share it with someone, your destiny becomes entwined with theirs forever.” Sephiroth smiled at the slight twinkle in Genesis’ eyes. “She thought it was the kind of cute romantic thing you’d get a kick out of.”

The corner of Genesis’ mouth flicked up into a smile as he turned the fruit over in his hands. Drawing a small knife from his black riding boot he looked up at Sephiroth. “Want to share it with me?”

Sephiroth was pretty sure he was blushing. Half of him had suspected that Genesis would offer to share it, but he’d also tried not to get his hopes up.

“Sure,” he replied, watching the redhead peel the thick skin off the lemon-like flesh underneath. With a warm smile that lit ocean eyes he handed Sephiroth a piece.

The golden fruit tasted fantastic. Sweet like one of Genesis’ parents’ apples, but with an orange’s tang. There was a passionfruit flavour there too, Sephiroth was sure. It was exotic, and tart, and made the silvery youth think of tropical islands and bright, sapphire water.

“So you think it’s true?” Genesis asked. “That we’re now bound together?”

“Who knows,” Sephiroth replied. His eyes swept Genesis’ moonlit face, split by a shy smile. “But I do know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

The novelty of what he was about to admit struck Sephiroth as he opened his mouth, and he very nearly chickened out. But he couldn’t deny Genesis when his face held such unguarded, hopeful anticipation.

“I love you,” he said, his voice low and quiet; only audible to Genesis.

A myriad of emotions played across Genesis’ face: shock, joy, uncertainty, nervousness. He flushed a deep pink, wringing his hands in absentminded anxiety.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Genesis’ face shone as if with an internal light. His joy was obvious as he smiled at Sephiroth.

“Well… I… I love you too,” he admitted bashfully.

Sephiroth couldn’t restrain the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He reached over, delicately brushing stray strands of red hair from Genesis’ face before leaning in to plant a tender kiss on his lips. Genesis’ hand came to rest on Sephiroth’s shoulder as he kissed back.

Tell me that you’ll open your eyes

It’s these memories—all these wonderful moments—that make it so hard to look at you now. Instead of seeing the boy I fell in love with, I see a man rapidly falling into a vengeful madness. Your eyes no longer hold the sparkle, the mischief, the fire that they used to. When you look at me I see anger, hate, and a sadness that breaks my heart.

“If we were to enact it, would you be the Hero, or would I?” You ask. I hear your wing flutter, and the sound serves only to remind me how much you’ve changed. And not just physically.

“It’s all yours,” I reply. What I don’t say is that you’re already a hero. You’re mine—you always have been. But right now you’re well on your way to destroying everything you have. You’ve abandoned Shinra; sworn vengeance on those who made you what you are. You murdered your parents, and now with each word you push me further away. All I want is to bring you home, but I fear that you will never let me.

“Hmm. After all, your glory should have been mine.”

Your face is contorted in a frown, and the bitter jealousy in your voice throws me. Have you always been envious of my ‘glory’? It’s not like I asked for it. Had you asked me to let you have the spotlight I would have gladly given you center stage.

My jaw clenches in frustration and, without thinking, I snap: “How petty.”

“It doesn’t matter. All I want now is the Gift of the Goddess.” As I turn to face you, your expression changes. The frown vanishes, replaced by a seductive smirk, which, despite how badly I want to hold you, I turn away from.

Get up, get out, get away from these liars
Cause they don’t get your soul and your fire

I wonder what Hollander has told you. Who has he blamed? What lies has he filled your head with? I understand why you’re angry. I would be too, if I learned that I was simply some sadistic bastard’s experiment. But why did you have to tear apart your life in that anger? Why did you have to throw away everything that made you human instead of the monster you now claim to be?

I turn to face you again, and find that you’ve turned away. Your ebony wing is tucked against your back, and your frame is tense. I know you’re aware of my eyes on you, and my movements as I cross the room to stand behind you.

My hands find your shoulders, massaging through the red leather of your coat. I sweep my palms down your sides, and wrap my arms around your waist, nuzzling into your silky red hair.

“Come home with me, Gen. We can sort everything out and no one needs to get hurt.”

You lean back into me, resting your head against my shoulder, your eyes closed. All the tension in your body melts away, and I feel you sigh.

Cause they don’t see what I see in you
Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine

Your hands grip mine, and for a moment we just stand there, holding each other. I cherish feeling your heartbeat at pace with mine, because I know now how easily I could lose you.

I’m afraid I’m losing you even as we stand here.

“I can’t go back, Seph,” you reply, your voice heavy with regret. “Too much has happened.”

“No,” I argue. “I’ll talk with Lazard…”

You laugh, and it’s bitter and sad. “You’re still so naïve,” you say.

“Gen…”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Know that you’re welcome to come with me any time.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Duty over happiness… or course.” You turn; your eyes empty and lonely as you look at me. “Do you really think you owe them anything? Your so-called home?”

I want nothing more than to hold you forever, to make everything the way it was. I keep hoping that I’ll wake up and find that it was all a terrible dream. That you’ll be lying next to me. But I know that this is real, as awful as it is.

It hurts to think of how far we’ve fallen. From lovesick young men swearing our love under the moonlight to pawns in a never-ending game of cat-and-mouse; one seeking the freedom he’d never been given, the other ordered to kill him.

And we’ll walk from this dark room for the last time

I can’t deny that your offer is tempting. The thought of leaving with you, of spending the rest of my days in peace at your side, is nearly enough to make me follow in your footsteps and abandon Shinra. But I know that peace is not what we would have. You’re too caught up in your vengeance.

Despite all of this, part of me is glad you left. Not only did you free yourself of your puppeteers—your would-be masters—you opened my eyes. You showed me Shinra’s dark side, and brought my guard up.

For that, I am in your debt. And yet still, if I could, I would take you home. But you’re right. Is Shinra really home?

Every minute from this minute now
We can do what we like anywhere

I cross the distance between us, grasping your face in my hands to kiss you, desperate and bruising. I close my eyes and banish the images of the lab around us, concentrating on the softness of your lips, the warmth of your breath, the feeling of your tongue sliding against mine.

Your leather-clad fingers weave around the back of my neck, holding on as you relax, your body melding into mine. A quiet, needy sound escapes you as I push you back against one of the large, heavy-duty crates. One of your firm legs loops around mine, the kiss unbroken as I start to undress you. Your wing vanishes in a cloud of black feathers and your coat falls to the metal floor, a heap of crimson leather against the cold grey.

Mine follows, pauldrons clanking heavily as they fall, and your deft fingers unclip my belt with practiced ease. I hear your boots hit the floor, my eyes closed as I break the kiss to nip at your throat.

Your shirt falls, and I begin to unclasp your pants, your hands gripping my bare back. It isn’t until the last article of clothing hits the floor, and naked skin presses to naked skin, that I open my eyes. There you are, unchanged, still the man I love. Despite your new vendetta, and the changes that have come with your degradation. You’re still the boy who took me home when I had no home of my own.

With nothing but saliva to ease it, I press into you. You writhe and cry out, your legs wrapping around my hips. Your arms loops around my neck and you rest your forehead against my shoulder, panting as I begin to thrust.

I carefully catalog every sensation, terrified that I’ll never feel this again. The tight, gripping heat of your body around my erection; the clenches and spasms as I drive into your prostate; the slickness of your skin, shining with sweat. Your breath is hot on my neck as you groan, your fingers digging into my back, your soft hair tickling my cheek.

I kiss your shoulder and taste the salt of your perspiration on my lips. I feel you tightening, tensing in anticipation of your release. Your voice jumps a few pitches, and your cries become more desperate.

“You’re close,” I say. “I can tell by the way you’re breathing.”

You gasp as I thrust harder, your body clenching, every muscle contracting.

“Seph… Seph, I…” you stutter, and then you’re keening, holding me tightly as you spill between us. I feel your orgasm as spasms and waves and hot liquid splattering onto my stomach.

Pleasure jolts through me as I feel you shudder around me; the clenches and shocks traveling through you and into my body. I feel my stomach tighten, a warm tingle spreading deep inside. Between my pants and gasps I cry out. “Gen!” Then I release, my spine arching as I drive into you, burying myself in your spent body as I spill heated fluid into you.

You hum your contentment low in your throat, nuzzling into my neck as we both come down off our euphoric high. I withdraw from you, and you whine in complaint, your grip around my shoulders tightening.

“Please come with us, Seph,” you beg, breathless.

“I can’t leave Shinra,” I reply, resenting, for the first time, my loyalty to that place.

“And I can’t go back,” you nearly whisper, your face still buried in the nape of my neck. You sigh, and lean back, hands resting on my shoulders. There’s grief and pain in your eyes. “So,” you say, meeting my gaze. “I guess we’re going our separate ways.”

I fight back the emotions that tear at me as I back away from you, retrieving my clothes from the floor. When I say nothing, you speak again.

“They sent you to kill me, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” I reply reluctantly.

You’re silent for a moment as I fasten my heavy leather belt, returning to the second skin that I both love and loathe.

“Are you going to?” The fear in your voice is painful to hear. “I won’t stop you.”

I pull on my coat, and pass yours to you, smiling as genuinely as I can. “I’m not going to kill you. Orders or not.”

Your face shows nothing but relief as you take your clothes from my hand.

“So you do still love me?”

“I never stopped.”

I want so much to open your eyes
Cause I need you to look into mine

You’ll never know how much I regretted walking away from you that day. So much would have been better if I had stayed. So fewer people would have suffered. Midgar would still be standing. Cloud would still have a hometown. An Ancient would still be living.

When you left my life, you left me vulnerable. And that’s when she came.