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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 Twenty Four
            ‘My soul, corrupted by vengeance, hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey in my own salvation, and your eternal slumber.’ -Loveless, Act IV
            The man in the coffin shifted restlessly, one black-gloved hand searching the darkness for the one who would light his way, while the other, clad in shining gold, gouged holes into the musty linen beneath him. He was lost, as he had been so many years ago. But this time, it was not a soft, rounded body which to called to his own, but one born of mako and bullets and betrayal, and he could only moan softly as he was burned alive by cold, molten fire.
            Streams of silver cascaded around him, ribbons of pale moonlight sweeping over him, the argent color echoed in the leafless trees which rose up around them. A slim, long-fingered hand found his own as a slender figure rose up above him. The beautiful young man arched his back as he brought his hand up to his exposed throat, and he was shocked to discover that his gauntlet was gone, only the black glove which concealed the signs of his sins remaining.
            The man above him moaned as he rode him, his slim, muscled form swaying as he lost himself in pleasure. He found himself fascinated by the young man’s beauty, by the slivers of pale green that peeked from beneath the fringe of his surprisingly dark lashes, and the long silver hair that swayed enticingly with each sensual
movement that he made. He reached up, unable to help himself, and brushed his thumb over the boy’s plump bottom lip. The pretty one opened that sensuous bow mouth and drew him in, and he could feel the heat of him even through the aged leather.
            His breath to catch as his blood continued to burn. He shouldn’t be here, he knew. This was wrong on so many levels that even he knew it, but he had not been able to turn away. He, who had no use for others, save the friends who had forced him to live, had been unable to turn away from this slight yet powerful nymph of a man. He had been caught unawares by force of his own passions, and he found that he couldn’t regret it now. He knew that he would later, when this was done and his body had cooled, but for now, he could only gasp and grasp the boys hips as pleasure threatened to steal what little was left of his sanity.
            And the beautiful young man knew. He opened his large, exotically tilted green eyes—her eyes—and leaned down. He draped his pale body over his own, his lips finding his even as he whispered, “Give yourself to me, dark one. Let yourself go.”
            He couldn’t control the raw, primal growl that escaped his throat as he let his control go and gave the boy what he wanted. He flipped the boy beneath him, slanted his mouth across his, and lost himself to the Chaos within.
            Vincent Valentine came back to himself with a low, hoarse cry. He slumped back against the stale linens of his prison, his piecemeal body throbbing with unsatiated lust. He didn’t know who the pretty young man was. He never had. He had been dreaming of him for weeks, maybe even months now--it was hard to tell when one was trapped in hell--and it was slowly driving him insane. The beautiful nymph who haunted his dreams also frightened him, because he had Lucrecia’s eyes. He knew that it couldn’t be Sephiroth, the son whose very existence had ended their private world. The boy was much too young for that. Still, that he had looked at him with her eyes as he they made love was enough to terrify the monster he had become.
            And yet, he wanted the boy, longed for him in ways he hadn’t thought possible. They had never met, and Vincent had no explanation for the memories that seemed so very, very real. Unlike his nightmares of Lucrecia and her hated husband, Hojo, these were different. These weren’t echoes that tortured him for his many failures as a man. These dreams brought pleasure as well as shame, and he hated that he didn’t know why, even as he found himself looking forward to their coming.
            He wasn’t supposed to feel anything but the sadness and misery his past actions had caused. He had been placed here to repent, and instead, he found himself feeling more alive than he ever had before his death at Hojo’s hands. “Who are you?” he whispered, he deep voice harsh after years of disuse. “Why do you haunt me? What do you want from me?”
            ‘Give yourself to me, dark one.’
            Vincent shuddered as that smooth, placid voice with its cultured tones echoed through his tortured mind. And as the dream swept over him once again, shattering him with its sheer intensity, he feared that he already had.
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            “Don’t go.”
            Sephiroth paused in the act of fastening his leather pants, frowning slightly as he raised his head. Genesis sat in the center of the bed, beautifully, gloriously nude, a defiant expression shaping his stunning aristocratic features. The unforgettable azure eyes which had captivated Sephiroth from the first were atypically dark, the only sign of the apprehension Genesis was trying so valiantly to hide, and Sephiroth could only smile in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.
            “All will be well,” he told the other man softly. “Your concern is unnecessary, Genesis.”
            Those bright blue skies narrowed on his own. “Bullshit,” Genesis snapped obstinately. “Call him back and tell him you can’t make it. Use me as an excuse if you have to—The Goddess knows he hates me enough—but do not go down to the lab tonight.”
            He let out a quiet sigh as he fastened the pants and reached for his weapons belt. Hojo had called ten minutes ago and demanded his presence in his laboratory, to finish the tests he had ’run out on’ two months prior. If he didn’t go now, the consequences could be severe—for them both. “I have to go, Gen. You know that. I’ve put this off for too long as it is.”
            The other man tossed his head, sending his disheveled hair tumbling around his fine-boned face. “No, you do not, Sephiroth. You’re a grown fucking man. Hojo has no right to call you in the middle night and order you to the fucking labs. Tell him that you’re busy, and to go fuck himself.”
            “While I would like nothing more, I cannot.” Sephiroth adjusted the straps to his weapons harness and reached for his boots as he spoke. “Everything must appear as normal as possible until Rufus is ready to make his move. I won’t jeopardize everything we’ve worked for simply because you’re worried about me,” he added with a touch of heat.
            “Of course, I’m worried about you. He nearly killed you last time.”
            Genesis scowled as Sephiroth grabbed his boots and sat on the edge of the bed, turning his back on him as he effectively ignored him. Time to change tactics, he thought with a cunning smile. He scooted across the mattress and slipped his arms around his lover from behind. He ignored the deep, heartfelt sigh as he pulled Sephiroth back against his body. He was determined to have his way in this, and by Goddess, he would.
            He slid his hands down the front of Sephiroth’s body, cupping his most sensitive flesh through the butter-soft leather. He waited until the other man moaned softly and arched into his touch to whisper, “If you love me, you’ll stay with me, Seph.”
            There was a moment of stunned silence before Sephiroth very carefully peeled his hands from his body. He surged to his feet and strode across the room, buckling his boots and reaching for his coat, trying to control his ire all the while. Once he was done, he turned and looked at the other man, who didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed at the attempted manipulation. “That was beneath you, Genesis,” he snapped icily.
            “The hell it was!” Genesis climbed off of the bed and marched towards him, determination etched into every fluid line of body. He came to a halt mere inches away from him, and it took all of Sephiroth’s considerable willpower not to reach for him, in spite of his irritation. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you away from that bastard, whether it pisses you off or not. You are not going down there tonight, Sephiroth. Period. End of discussion. Do you understand me?”
            Sephiroth didn’t bother with a response as he swept past him, striding from the room with long, angry steps. Genesis was hot on heels, fear the man he loved riding him as he grasped his arm and used all of his strength to jerk him to a halt. Sephiroth swung around to face him, his silver hair flaring around him like a living thing, his otherworldly green eyes narrowing in a warning that Genesis had no intention of heeding.
            “I am not going to lose you!” he hissed, tightening his hold until he knew he had to be hurting the younger man. “He nearly killed you last time, and I have no intention of letting it happen, again. You’re staying, Sephiroth, and that’s final!”
            Sephiroth’s gaze turned cold as he jerked his arm free. “No, I am not,” he forced through gritted teeth. “There is a great deal I am willing to indulge you in, Genesis—”
            “Indulge?!”
            “—but this is not negotiable,” he continued, ignoring the infuriated outburst. “I will not put our futures at risk because you can not control your fears. I am going to the lab. I will return in a few hours, and I hope to find you waiting for me when I do. If not, I will see you tomorrow on the SOLDIER floor.”
            He turned and walked away, leaving a furious kitten spitting at his back. “Godsdamnit, Sephiroth!” the other man yelled. “Get back here! Don’t you walk away from me!”
            He wrenched the door opened, stepped over the threshold, and slammed the door as hard as he could. So much for his vaunted self-control, he thought as he strode to the elevator and jabbed impatiently at the button. As much as he loved the other man, the impulse to wrap his hands around that slender neck was nearly overpowering at times. Trust Genesis to turn a simple, routine lab visit into an elaborate melodrama.
            The door to his quarters was suddenly flung open, and he cringed as he realized that simply walking away may not have been the best way to handle to the situation. “Fine!” Genesis screamed so loudly that the whole of the building must have heard him. Sephiroth resisted the urge to look over his shoulder, knowing that he would only find an angry, naked SOLDIER at his back. “Get the fuck out, then! Go, and let him fucking kill you, for all I care! Just don’t come crawling back to me when he does!”
            The door was slammed so hard that Sephiroth felt the vibrations through the soles of his boots. He winced as the elevator doors finally slid open and gratefully stepped inside. As he pressed the button for the 68^th floor, he could only hope that Genesis hadn’t meant his angry, callous words. It would be devastating to return home only to find an empty apartment waiting for him, as he so often had in the past.
            Genesis would not do that to him now, he tried to assure himself. It had been nearly a week since he had broken down in Genesis’ arms, and the other man had rarely left him alone since. Genesis had even taken to bringing his paperwork to Sephiroth’s office, so that he could keep an eye on him while he worked. Genesis loved him. It was only his fear for him that had made him so unreasonable in this matter.
            He would wait, Sephiroth thought, angry with himself as he was unable to quell a small, niggling sense of doubt. He would not let his own fears do this to him. He refused to give in to the uncertainties that had once colored his own perceptions of the man he loved. He had to trust him, to put his faith in him, or he would only precipitate the very tragedy he was working so diligently to avoid.
            Which meant, no more losing his temper. Genesis was volatile by nature. He knew that. Genesis might not be the most reasonable man on The Planet, but Sephiroth truly couldn’t blame him for his reaction this time. He had found Sephiroth bleeding to death in the Professor’s laboratory, after all. He had already confessed that he feared being hurt, and losing the man he loved would certainly do that.
            Genesis was a strong man. He feared nothing. That Genesis had admitted to being afraid of losing him was enough to make Sephiroth question the decision he had made. He sighed to himself as the elevator ground to a halt, the doors opening to reveal the sterile corridors of the 68^th floor. No, he told himself as he left the elevator and strode through those barren halls, he could not chance drawing any attention to himself at such time. He and Rufus were only days away from staging their coup de taut. He could not—would not—allow his feelings for the other man to sway his judgment in this.
            He came to the door that housed a great many of his childhood nightmares and forced himself to walk through. It slid open with quiet mechanical hiss, and then closed with more of the same. The Professor, who was bent over one of the rooms many scientific devices, straightened and turned towards him as he approached, and it was all Sephiroth could do to not to strike him down where he stood.
            The older man cast him a disgusted look as he reached up to adjust his rimless glasses. “You’re late,” he snapped in lieu of greeting.
            Soon, Sephiroth comforted himself as he raised one eyebrow in response. “You called fifteen minutes ago, Professor. I would have thought my response time more than adequate,” he returned coolly.
            Hojo sneered as he gestured towards a large hospital bed, this one fully mechanized, complete with steel restraints. “Undress and lay down, boy. Thanks to your impudence, I am behind in my reports to the President. We have a lot of work to do tonight, you and I.”
            A high, cackling laugh accompanied those last words, and Sephiroth tensed upon hearing it. He didn’t respond as he removed his uniform and set it in a small cabinet that Hojo kept expressly for that purpose. He climbed up on to the oversized cot, ignoring his instincts as they screamed for him to flee. This would be the last time, he reminded himself desperately. After tonight, Hojo would never touch him again. He only had to survive a few hours of excruciatingly painful invasive procedures, and then he would be free. This dark chapter of his life would soon be closed forever, Masamune the mark that denoted its bloody conclusion.
            The thought of killing Hojo was enough to calm his nerves. As the older man drew close and began to slip his wrists and ankles into the steel restraints, he entertained himself by envisioning the old man’s death. As satisfying as the image of running Masamune through that thin, emaciated body was, he thought that a more. . .hands-on approach might be in order. Wrapping his hands around that scrawny neck and literally squeezing the life out the good professor was appealing on far too many levels for him to ignore.
            The darkness within him rose up at the thought, clamoring for him to break free and do just that. Yes, Sephiroth thought malevolently, Masamune would provide too quick a death for a man who so adored to torment others. Torturing him would be not only all too fitting, but something he would enjoy—immensely. After what had been done not only to him, but to all the others, Sephiroth thought that returning the favor would be all too appropriate.
            He felt the sting of a needle as it was inserted into his arm and forced himself back to reality. Hojo was speaking—when was he not?—and Sephiroth found himself focusing on his words with surprising ferocity. “It won’t be long now,” the scientist was saying, satisfaction lacing his rather nasal voice. “My three beautiful specimens are nearly ready, far superior to the original in every way. You, my boy, are about to become obsolete.”
            Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed on him at the mention of Kadaj and his brothers. Hojo either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, as he prepped another needle for insertion. “Yes, obsolete,” he continued with another ear-shattering laugh. “As powerful as you are, you have proven far too intractable for my liking. You have forgotten your betters, boy, and I can’t allow such insubordination to continue.”
            “And what will you do?” Sephiroth questioned in a low, dangerous voice. “You cannot harm me, Professor. My body heals too quickly for any of your. . . treatments,” he bit the word off, “to have any long-term effects.”
            Hojo laughed again, and the accompanying smile was enough to set warning bells clamoring inside his head. “I’ve been working on a new drug,” he pierced the median cubital vein and depressed the plunger, “one which will be able to overcome even your built-in defenses.”
            The old man smiled down at him, his depravity clearly palpable as he added, “You should feel the effects soon enough, Sephiroth. Bah!” he exclaimed suddenly, turning away as he pulled a movable tray of surgical implements closer to him. “I don’t why I indulged that woman and kept your ridiculous name. I should have given you a number, as I have with all of the others. She certainly had no influence on anything else of importance, after all.”
            The first stirrings of anger awakened within him at the mention of his natural mother. Hojo didn’t even have the decency to speak her name, calling her “that woman” as though she were beneath contempt. “’That woman’ was my mother,” he said, clenching his teeth as he spoke. “Her name was Lucrecia Crescent, and she was your wife.”
            Beady black eyes narrowed on his as Hojo bent over him. “How do you know that name?” he demanded.
            Sephiroth forced his anger back, surprised by the amount of restraint it took to do so, and forced a smile to his lips. “I know a great deal,” he answered, his voice dangerously soft as he added, “I know about Valentine, as well.”
            Hojo reared back, his unable to hide his surprise. “You know nothing,” he spat with a sneer. “Vincent Valentine was a week-willed child. A failure, both as a man and an experiment. And your mother‘s name was Jenova.”
            “Valentine was a Turk, and my father,” Sephiroth returned harshly, ignoring the reference to Jenova as the anger returned tenfold. “Not you, Professor. Never you.”
            Hojo’s entire countenance darkened at the reminder. “You’ll pay for that, my boy. Yes, you will.” He grabbed a scalpel from the tray beside him and smiled once again. He held it up, laughing insanely as the light glinted off its razor-sharp edge. “I had thought to send my three specimens to deal with you, but that would be a waste, both of my time and my genius.”
            The dark-haired madman looked down at him once more, smiling with a cunning that actually frightened him. “I think that Rhapsodos would be a more fitting trial for my beautiful creations, don’t you, Sephiroth?”
            Sephiroth’s blood went cold at the implications of his words. “If you touch him, I’ll kill you,” he whispered with cold, deadly intent.
            Another laugh escaped the scientist at that. “You’ll be dead, boy. But die knowing that Hollander’s freak won’t be far behind you. He’s challenged me one time too many, as it is. Now, where was I?”
            Hojo lowered the scalpel in his hand and Sephiroth reacted. He broke the restraint fettering his right arm and grabbed Hojo’s wrist, the bones snapping even before he had formed the thought to break them. He flung the other man away from him, reaching across himself to snap the restraint on his left wrist. He sat up and quickly freed his ankles, ignoring the spinning in his head as he did so. Hojo had made a fatal error in threatening Genesis. Sephiroth was not the same shy, insecure young man he had once been. He had been tested in a trial of fire, mako, and madness, and he knew what exactly what he was capable of. Unfortunately for Hojo, he did not.
            He rose to his feet, willing his uniform to form around him. It did, materializing out of the same nothingness he once had, slithering over his body until he was completely covered once more. Hojo was staring at him with an unsettling combination of fascination and abject horror from his place on the cold tile floor, and Sephiroth smiled with all of the malevolence of Jenova’s chosen son.
            “How little you humans know of the forces with which you tinker,” he said with contempt. “You run around aimlessly, thinking your actions important, when you are no more than ants, scurrying towards your own doom in your incalculable ignorance.”
            “I knew it!” Hojo declared shakily. He grabbed one of the countertops with his undamaged hand and dragged himself to his feet. “How long has she been speaking to you? Have there been any further physical mutations? Why didn’t you inform me immediately—”
            Sephiroth grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off of his feet. He gazed up at him with cruel, heartless green eyes, smiling all the while. “Jenova has no need of you,” he told the sniveling little coward of a man, “nor do I. Your continued existence is a blight upon this world, and not to be tolerated. You will be removed from the equation, Professor. The bonds of godhood which you have so diligently sought are not meant for the likes of you.”
            Hojo didn’t appear to be the least bit frightened by his words, not even when Sephiroth tightened his hold just enough to cut off his air supply. He looked both excited and impatient as he dangled from his grasp, and Sephiroth was instantly on guard. He loosened his hand just enough to restore Hojo’s air, and his ability to speak, his curiosity peaked, even as something unidentifiable flashed at the edge of his senses.
            “No,” the old man said, the faint tang of bitterness tingeing his eager words, “you are the god, boy. You always were. You are the one Jenova chose, the dark angel who will bring this world to its knees. But you need me to guide you.”
            Sephiroth laughed then, the sound dark and sadistic, as he jerked Hojo close. He placed his lips next to his ear and said, “I have no need of a guide. I have seen the wonders you kept from me, Professor. I have seen The Planet which cries out in anguish, screaming from a wound it can never heal, and I have answered the call. Though, not in a way that you could have foreseen.”
            He raised his head and lifted the smaller man once more. He knew just how disturbing a picture he made with his silver hair flowing down his back, his slitted pupils nearly disappearing as he drew on the tainted cells within him, his deceptively angelic features warped with cruelty. He was every inch the god that Hojo had once tried to make of him. He only lacked Jenova’s inimical control, and that made him doubly dangerous.
            “There will be no ascendance, Professor. No Meteor to call, no Reunion to study. I will shape this world by healing it, not destroying it, and Genesis will be at my side as I do so.”
            He tightened his grasp until he felt the other man’s esophagus give way. He dropped Hojo to the floor, taking a step back as he studied him with dispassionate eyes. The scientist clutched at as his throat he began to suffocate, and Sephiroth smiled once again. “I will destroy Jenova, and I will free us all from her taint, but you will not live to see it. Your cells will be drawn back to her, and I will have the pleasure of killing you a second time when I take her alien head. Die with that knowledge, Father.”
            Sephiroth gazed at him for a moment longer, his own dark satisfaction rising up within him, before he turned away. He was nearly to the door when he felt it. A shift in the air, the atmosphere changing around him, becoming charged with a power he was all too familiar with. He swung around, his eyes narrowing, as he watched Hojo stand. As though on puppet strings, his body was jerked upright, his dark eyes shining with a telling violet light, as his spittle-covered lips curved into an evil smile.
            “Did you really think you could kill me so easily, boy?”
            Sephiroth’s lips thinned with displeasure as he realized that the Jenova cells Hojo had once injected into himself had healed him. “No, I suppose it was too much to ask,” he muttered before calling Masamune.
            The seven-foot odachi appeared in his hands, reflecting the light in an almost supernatural way as it spanned the space between them. “Make no mistake, old man, you will die. I will not be denied in this.”
            The hated cackle rang through the lab, echoing painfully through his skull, and Sephiroth tightened his hold on Masamune’s hilt. He knew that there was something wrong inside of him, something that had been triggered by whatever drug Hojo had given him, but he could not afford to worry about it now. Thirty-three years of suppressed rage were about to be unleashed on the one person who actually deserved it. As he had told Hojo, he would not be denied. In fact, he would take pleasure from every agonizing cry he managed to wrest from the monster before him before he took his worthless life.
            Hojo lifted his arms in the air, his lab coat flapping in the sudden wind he himself had created, and two monsters appeared before him. Sephiroth quirked one silver brow and said, “A Poodler? A Bad Rap? That’s the best you can do?”
            The older man sneered angrily as he commanded the monsters to attack. Sephiroth merely sighed and shot forward. He cut through both creatures, killing them in one hit, and landing a devastating blow on Hojo himself. He leapt back to his previous position, watching without surprise as Hojo’s body, which had been cut in half by Masamune, began to transform.
            What had once been his guardian rose up before him, brushing the ceiling with its incredible height. The monster’s skin had turned an appalling shade of violet, with gray splotches along what he assumed was the torso. A circular object was lodged in the chest cavity, glowing a bright neon red, but he could sense no power in its brilliant depths. Two large, clawed arms appeared on either side of the creature, each moving up and down as the creature straightened.
            “Hmmpphh.” Sephiroth shook his head, which had started to pound, as he readied Masamune, drawing the sword up and holding it on level with his left shoulder. He smiled, the cruel smile that had once terrified so many, and lunged forward. Masamune sliced easily through the monster’s skin, piercing that ugly red ball as it did so. Blackish blood poured from the wound as he pulled Masamune free, and he was startled when the right arm lashed out, moving in a blur fast enough to rival his own enhanced speed, and raked those nails down his face. The left arm followed, slicing through his weapons harness with disgusting ease.
            He stumbled back, rage filling him as he felt his own blood began to drip down his face and chest. While he wasn’t a vain man, the attack showed a contempt that was typical of the man who had raised him. “You’ll pay for that,” he growled, lifting right his hand and calling on the powers Hojo himself had unwittingly bestowed upon him.
            Heartless Angel rained down upon the monstrosity, bathing the abomination in bright, glittering light. The monster Hojo had become slumped over, movement ceasing as its lifeforce was drained until almost nothing remained. The crimson sphere lodged in its torso began to pulse, then flared without warning. Sephiroth put a hand up to shield his eyes, growling with rage as he caught a glimpse of Hojo, assuming yet another grotesque form.
            This form resembled Jenova with its pasty gray skin and elongated limbs. The eyes were still that repulsive mix of violet and black, showing that Hojo was in control here, even if he had given his physical self over to the alien entity’s cells. “Monster,” he whispered, well aware that he was projecting his own self-disgust onto the man who had created him, “abomination. I will not allow you to live. No others will be lost to your madness.”
            While Hojo’s last form had not shown an ability to speak, the laughter which cut painfully through his head showed that he did understand. The skeletal-like creature moved towards him, raising it’s arms as it drew close. Sephiroth parried the first blow with Masamune, swiftly turning to block the second. An emaciated hand slipped past his guard, slashing four bloody lines from one shoulder to another, and he scowled as kicked the abomination away from him.
            Hojo seemed to float backwards in a controlled manner, not damaged in the least, and Sephiroth had had enough. He lowered Masamune and raised his right hand high above his head, wanting this battle--which never should have happened in the first place--over and done. Pale emerald eyes gleamed as he gathered his spirit energy, forming an orb of bright mako-green light in his hands. He could feel his physical energy depleting at an astonishingly rapid pace, reminding him that his own power had been cut by three, but that didn’t matter. He tilted his head to one side, smiled with all of the evil he still carried inside of him, and cast his most powerful spell.
            Super Nova was unleashed. As the knowledge and wisdom of the cosmos began to rain down upon Hojo, Sephiroth felt his consciousness begin to slip. The world blurred out of focus, black spots flickering in and out of his vision, darkness creeping in to incapacitate him. He didn’t know exactly what Hojo had injected him with, but he was very much afraid that he wouldn’t live long enough to for it to matter.
            He only vaguely registered Super Nova as its power pounded what was left of Professor Hojo, its impressive lightshow going unnoticed as he fought to keep himself conscious. His only thought was of Genesis, and the promise he was suddenly terrified he would not be able to keep. He turned and stumbled towards the door, falling through it as it slid open. He hit the ground and forced himself to his feet, using the wall as a guide as he made his way towards the elevator.
            He had to get to Genesis, Sephiroth thought, his mind dimming with alarming alacrity. He had to tell him how much he meant to him, and how sorry he was for breaking his oath. He had to see his fierce kitten one last time, if only to apologize for going against his wishes and ruining all of their plans.
            And he didn’t want to die alone, damn it all! He wanted to feel Genesis arms around him before he was sentenced to an eternity in purgatorial hell, which he was sure that Gaia had waiting for him.
            He blinked as he found himself inside of the moving elevator, slumped against the cold glass of it, with no memory of how he had gotten here. He looked up at the numbers that ran across the top of the doors, but the light seemed to jumping around, and he couldn’t be sure which floor he would stop on, if any. The numbers blurred out of focus, and then he was stumbling through a hallway, one which was vaguely familiar. He saw the door to his own quarters and nearly cried with relief. He was almost there!
            Sephiroth staggered to the door, crying out in soundless protest as the knob refused to turn in his hand. He slumped against the door, sliding down it as his strength finally left him, Genesis’ name falling soundlessly from his lips. The darkness gathered around him, creeping towards him in unnatural silence, and he closed his eyes, resigned to the inevitable.
            ‘We’re here,’ a soft, melodic voice streamed through his mind, ‘Father.”
            He felt himself being gathered up, pulled against a narrow, muscled chest, and clung to it with all of his remaining strength. A hand passed over his head in a hauntingly familiar gesture, even as another body drew close to his front. He wrapped an arm around the slender, almost girlish waist and hugged the unseen form to him, and was rewarded with the brush of soft lips against his cheek. A third presence approached him, throwing heavily muscled arms around them all, and Sephiroth let himself go. He was safe here, with these three pieces of himself, his three angelic remnants. He no longer had to hide who—what—he was, and he was no longer alone. That alone was enough to comfort him in the face of yet another death.
            ‘Death is not for you, Father.’ The voice was different this time, more childlike, yet imperious at the same time. ‘We have too much to do to give up now. You must live, Sephiroth, for us all.’
            ‘Yeah, listen to tenshi,’ a third, deeper voice advised him. ‘Don’t give up, now. Gen’s coming, Seph. He’ll make everything better. Don’t you worry.’
            Sephiroth could have sworn that he heard a snort as the arms around him changed. Then, he was being pulled back, dragged into the essence of life, and a fiery, achingly familiar embrace. “Seph!”
            Sephiroth heard the rich melody of Genesis’ voice and smiled as the world faded to black once more.
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Final Fantasy VII: Angelic Threnody