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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
- 28
- 29
- 30
Chapter 29
            My friend, your desire is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess. Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall my return.’ -Loveless, ACT III

            Vincent shifted the unconscious girl in his arms, grimacing as wisps of overlong brown hair clung to his cape and arm like a living thing. He disliked being touched, especially by strangers, and regardless of what his senses were so insistently trying to tell him, this girl was a stranger to him. He settled her weight more evenly in his arms, taking care not to pierce her delicate skin with his claw as he did so. She didn’t respond at all, continuing to sleep, a peaceful look on her delicate features.
            Nanaki had wanted to wait until the girl--Aerith--had awakened to leave Shinra Manor, but Vincent hadn’t been able to control his impatience. The pretty one was so close, only weeks away by foot and sea, and three hours of watching the girl sleep while making stilted conversation with the fire-tailed creature had taken its toll. He had insisted that they tarry no longer, even going so far as to offer to carry the unconscious girl, if only to hasten their departure.
            The lion-like creature, which called itself a Gi, had made several attempts at conversation, only to fall silent once he’d finally realized that Vincent had no interest in talking. Something which Vincent was infinitely grateful for. All his thoughts were centered on Yazoo, the beautiful, mysterious young man who had turned his purgatory into something it never should have been, something almost. . .enjoyable. He, who had lived with guilt as his constant companion for the last twenty-six years, was astonished to find that he had fallen in love once again. After failing Lucrecia so horribly, he had willingly accepted the prison Hojo had created for him as his due, certain that any chance of finding happiness had been lost with her. Then, the dreams had begun.
            Vincent sighed to himself, the sound wistful, as he wondered just who the pretty one was. He had never seen the young man before, had never laid eyes on him, and yet he knew him. Straight, silken silver hair, framing a delicate face which by all rights should appear feminine but didn’t. Large, pale, emerald eyes, surrounded by heavy lids and a ridiculously long fringe of silver-gold lashes. A slender yet well-muscled body, sinuously beautiful in its sensual movements, yet he’d known from the first touch that the boy was capable of vicious, heartless cruelty.
            And even that hadn’t been enough to deter him. Vincent sighed again, this time with longing. The pretty one had been both angel and demon, yet never to him. He knew this as surely as he knew that this Yazoo was as necessary to him as the air which he had once needed to breathe. He had vague memories of a second death, of fire sweeping over him in Hell’s own judgment,       and Yazoo’s name had tumbled from his lips as it did so.
            He had been truly intimate with him, sensually open with him as he had never been with another, not even Lucrecia. Their encounters had been quick, hushed affairs, their moments stolen whenever--and wherever--they could. He had taken his time with the boy, had explored that slender, muscular body in a variety of ways, completely losing himself in the pleasure the beautiful silver nymph had evoked in him.
            His body hardened in response to his thoughts and he hastily reined his imagination in. There would time enough to question Yazoo once they had been reunited. He was certain that the boy would have the answers he needed, just as he was sure that he would be welcomed with open arms. Yazoo had cared for him, loved him, and he was waiting for him. Of that, Vincent had no doubts.
            As much as treasured these unexplained memories--if that’s indeed what they were--he positively loathed that he was forced to wait to have them explained to him. But Cloud had been adamant, and that surprising sense of inexplicable trust had been enough to convince him to wait for the other man’s explanations. Whoever this Cloud was, he was important.
            And so, he found himself trudging through the rain-damp grasslands of the western plains, the girl a dead weight in his arms. Nanaki padded softly at his left, his cat-like ears twitching every so often, his every sense trained on their surroundings in anticipation of attack. They hadn’t met many monsters on their trek, but the few battles they had engaged in had been both awkward and short-lived. Having to fight while protecting the unconscious girl had been a challenge, but Cloud had been insistent in his belief that she was important, and apparently, that had been enough to convince him to do so.
            Vincent frowned at the thought. Cloud was another who should be a stranger to him and yet wasn’t. His dreams--or memories, as it were--were fractured and highly confusing, but they carried with them fantastically strong emotional messages. Surprisingly, not all of those emotions were of the dark, abysmal variety. He had felt grief and sadness, yes, but also hope and affectionate passion.
            “It’s getting late.” Vincent looked down at the Gi, who returned his gaze with steady amber eyes. “We should make camp before it gets too dark.”
            He only nodded his assent, following Nanaki as he padded over to a clump of boulders. “This will do,” he said as he sat back on his haunches. “If you leave Aerith with me, I’ll watch her while you gather wood for the fire.”
            A slight frown pulled his brows together, the only indication of his displeasure, as he carefully dropped to his knees. A slight, breathy sound drew his attention to the bundle in his arms, and he tensed in anticipation. He watched with deceptively tranquil crimson eyes as the girl began to stir, her deep brown lashes fluttering before they slowly rose to reveal deep sage eyes. He felt the impact of that deep green gaze all the way to the depths of his tattered soul, and he inhaled sharply in automatic response. She only smiled up at him with a surprising, bewildering affection. “Hello, Vincent,” she greeted, her musical voice husky from lack of use.
            “. . .Hello,” he murmured a bit uncertainly. “You are. . .Aerith?”
            “Yes, yes, I am,” she answered brightly, adding, “You can put me down, now. I feel much better.”
            Relief flashed through his ruby eyes before he could conceal it. He lowered the girl to the ground, watching her closely for any signs of weakness. Although weariness etched lines in her pretty face, her green eyes were bright and alert. Nanaki crept towards her on quiet paws, his tawny eyes locking onto hers, and she immediately reached out to run her fingers through his thick mane. “You stayed,” she said with equal parts of surprise and pleasure. “Thank you.”
            “I couldn’t leave you while you were unconscious,” the young Gi responded with a shy duck of his head. “I owe you more than that, Aerith.”
            Aerith merely shook her head in silent disagreement and gave him one last pat before stretching. She turned back to Vincent, her fine features softening as her eyes met his once again. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”
            “Yes.” Vincent studied her with veiled crimson eyes, taking note of the ethereal, almost otherworldly aura that seemed to dance around her. “You’re not human,” he stated flatly.
            She laughed at that, the high sound ringing through the crisp night air. “Oh, I’m human, Vincent. Too much so, at times.” He raised one ebony brow in an unapologetically skeptical gesture, and she only laughed again. “I’m a Cetra, or at least, a half-Cetra. On my mother’s side.”
            Those startling red eyes widened. “You. . .are an Ancient?” he asked sharply.
            “Uh-huh. One of the last on The Planet.” Aerith glanced around them, taking the Princess Guard off her back as she did so. “We should be going. Shinra will be looking for us soon, if they aren’t already.”
            “They aren’t,” Nanaki assured her quickly. “Sephiroth was injured, and they had to delay their plans. It’s safe to make camp for the night.”
            She merely looked down at him, her green eyes darkening. “I felt him,” she whispered, laying the staff on the ground beside her. “I felt him as he lay dying.”
            “Is that what happened?” he asked, curling up beside her on the hard ground. “I’d wondered, when Cloud told us that Sephiroth had nearly died, but I was hoping I was wrong.”
            Relief rushed through her at the knowledge that Sephiroth truly had survived. She wouldn’t put it past The Planet to break the bond she had created between them to save her life. She realized that Nanaki was waiting for an explanation and shrugged, the shoulders of her red denim jacket rising and falling with the motion. “It was necessary, Nanaki.”
            The young Gi merely shook his furred head. “So, it’s true? You tied your life to his?” She nodded in confirmation, and he gave a great sigh. “Why would you do such a thing, Aerith? Hasn’t he taken enough from you already?”
            “And what about all he was never given?” She shook her own head, her braid whipping back and forth with the motion. “Sephiroth was never given the chance to live a normal life. He was lied to from the beginning, tortured and manipulated by those who were supposed to care for him. He never had a family, Nanaki. He only ever had three friends, and they were taken away from him, too. If you had ever been in his mind, you would know just how inevitable Nibelheim was. His lover was the only thing holding him together, and when he lost him, he lost any chance he might have had to fulfill his destiny.”
            Vincent, who had been watching them silently, spoke up. “What destiny?” he asked, his voice quiet as he struggled to follow their conversation. “Is my son. . . important?”
            Nanaki threw a pitying look his way, and Aerith hastily nodded. “Yes, Vincent, your son is very important,” she told him emphatically. “Sephiroth is the greatest warrior on The Planet. He is the General of Shinra’s army. He is seen as a hero. He is also half-Cetra, like me.”
            Vincent looked away as he processed the information. He’d already known that Lucrecia’s son--his son--would have Cetra blood, but all the rest. . .? “And this ‘destiny’ of which you speak?” he asked at last.
            “He was supposed to be Gaia’s savior, The Planet’s ultimate protector, Silver Weapon.” She released a heavy sigh, sorrow shaping her timeless features, before adding, “He still can be. He only needs guidance, and the support of his friends and family. That’s where we come in.”
            An impish smile accompanied that last statement, and Vincent blinked at the abrupt change. “Silver Weapon?” he queried. “I don’t understand.”
            “I know you don’t, Vincent, but you will.” She pushed herself to her feet and dusted off her skirt. “I’ll help you find some firewood. Nanaki, you’ll be okay here by yourself?”
            “Of course.” The teenage Gi paused before adding, “I can’t stay much longer, Aerith. My heart cries out for home.”
            “I know,” she acknowledged softly. “You’re free to leave whenever you wish, my friend. You have done more than anyone had a right to ask of you.”
            Feline features distorted in a frown. “Aerith--”
            “The choice is yours, Nanaki. It always has been,” she added cryptically.
            Nanaki’s brow cleared as comprehension came to him. “Then, I choose to accompany you to Junon. I will wait until Cloud comes to take my leave.”
            Aerith smiled at the decisive nod that accompanied those words. “Then rest, my friend. We’ll be back soon.”
            Vincent watched as the young, lion-like creature lowered his muzzle to his paws and closed his eyes. Just like that, the creature had been comforted. He looked to the young woman with the wise green eyes and felt a newfound respect for her. It would seem that the mysterious Cloud had been correct--she was important.
            As he trailed after her in search of firewood, he found himself filled with a sense of tranquility. “You were good with him,” he said into the quiet.
            Aerith sent him a smile over her shoulder. “Nanaki is still very much the teenager. He misses his grandfather very much. He’s been away a long time,” she added with another shrug.
            “Hmmm.” She began to gather whatever twigs and sticks she could find, and he hastily moved to help her. As he picked up the remnant of a tree branch, he said, “Tell me how you know my son.”
            She stilled for a long moment before turning to face him. “When I was a child, my mother and I were taken by Shinra.” Her green eyes darkened at the painful memories. “I was seven when we finally escaped Professor Hojo’s laboratory. We couldn’t have done it without Sephiroth’s help.”
            Ruby eyes flickered as Vincent pondered that. “You can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen,” he said at length. “Sephiroth would have been little more than a child himself. How could he have possibly helped you escape Hojo’s clutches?”
            “He was sixteen.” She uttered a heavy sigh, remembering all she had seen in Sephiroth’s damaged mind, before she had made the decision to send him here. “He was. . .impressive, even then. He’d become immune to most drugs, and Hojo was having a difficult time controlling him. I guess, you could say that he was going through a rebellious stage.”
            She smiled a little at the image of Hojo, covered in from head to foot in the mako he had intended to submerge his charge in. “Hojo had decided that it was time to cross my mother’s genetics with his--with Sephiroth’s--and, apparently, Sephiroth disagreed. He managed to smuggle an anonymous note through a smitten lab assistant, and the next day he created the diversion himself. He kept the scientific staff busy long enough for us to make our way out of the compound.”
            “What did he do?” Vincent asked, curious despite the guilt that ate at him for his failure to protect the son he hadn’t known he had.
            The smile died a quick death. “I’m not sure,” she said with a shake of her head. “Whatever it was, it kept Hojo and almost all of the guards in the main lab busy long enough for us to get out of the building. We were nearly off the grounds when we were spotted.”
            She rubbed her arms as though cold and Vincent somehow knew that her mother hadn’t made it. “We made it as far as the Sector 7 train station before my mother collapsed. A very nice woman named Elmyra Gainsborough tried to help us, and my mother asked her to take care of me. She did,” she added simply.
            Vincent only nodded as they went back to gathering firewood. To say that he was curious about his son was an understatement, yet he had to wonder what right he had to claim the boy--the man--as his own. He had failed Sephiroth’s mother in the worst possible way, and had abandoned him to a madman like Hojo. He had survived what had to have been a painful childhood, only to become a strong, powerful man, one who led others. How could he expect someone like that to understand--let alone forgive--his sins?
            “He will hate me,” he murmured, unaware that he had spoken aloud.
            “You’re wrong, Vincent.”
            His dark head whipped around, sable hair flaring around him in a silken midnight mass. Aerith was watching him with a combination of empathy and certainty, and his crimson eyes narrowed on hers. “How can you be so sure?” he threw out, his deep voice harsh with self-recrimination. “You don’t know what I’ve done, what sins I’ve committed against those I loved. How can you stand there and tell me that Sephiroth won’t despise me when I can barely tolerate myself?”
            “Because he understands.” She approached him and very slowly lifted one hand, the other clutching the pile of sticks to her chest. She gave him every opportunity to move out of her reach, but something kept him rooted in place, some vague, half-understood instinct that told him that he could trust this young slip of a girl.
She set her hand on his upper arm, her touch gentle, as she told him, “Sephiroth is very much like you, Vincent. He reacts the same way that you do to stress, to pain. He closes himself off from the world around him, tries to distance himself from his emotions, because he can’t handle the intensity of them. Others see only an emotionless mask, but those who truly know him see him, and they accept him as he is. They love him as he is, and he will love you as you are, just as we all do.”
            Vincent took a step back, jerking away from her hold as he swallowed hard. “Who are you?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “How can you know me so well, when I know nothing of you?”
            Aerith surprised him by laughing, the infectious sound filling him with a long-forgotten warmth. “We were comrades, Vincent.” That bewildering affection was back as she added, “More than that, we were friends.”
            “I--” He broke off, unsure of what he could say to that, when he remembered nothing of her.
            “It’s all right, Vincent. I don’t expect you to return the feeling. Not yet, anyway.” She picked up one last piece of wood and turned away. “Come on, it’s going to get cold tonight. Let’s get the fire started before that happens.”
            Vincent merely followed her, confused and scared in a way he hadn’t been since his ‘death’ twenty-five years earlier. As much as her words had comforted him, they had nothing to ease the fear that rose up within him at the very sight of her. It wasn’t fear of her, but fear for her, and that made absolutely no sense at all.
            He remained silent as they returned to camp, watching with veiled crimson eyes as the girl began to build the fire. He almost pointed out that the damp wood was unlikely to catch, but realized that she already knew that. She pulled a small green orb out of her items pouch, and a whorl of green-tinged light shot towards the fire. A Fire spell, he thought, hiding a smile behind the cowl of his cape. The girl had come prepared.
            As the fire caught and began to crackle, Aerith reached deeper into her pouch and withdrew small bag. “It’s not much, but it will help keep the hunger at bay until we reach Costa del Sol.”
            He caught the small bag of dehydrated meat and inclined his head. “Thank you,” he said politely, causing her to laugh again.
            “You’re welcome, Vincent.”
            Aerith settled back against a large boulder, sighing contentedly as she gazed into the flames. Nanaki still slept, and Vincent was very quietly eating the food she had provided, lost in his own thoughts. From the gleam in his gorgeous ruby eyes, however, she guessed that his thoughts were far from dark. He was probably thinking about Yazoo, she thought, suppressing a giggle. He had certainly enjoyed the hours he’d spent with the handsome, self-contained young man, so much so that even she had been embarrassed by what she had seen. She had never expected to see Vincent like that, so open, so. . .free. For all of his dark, angsty ways, he was a very passionate man.
            “He came back for you, you know.”
            Vincent blushed slightly, telling her that she’d guessed correctly. “What do you mean by ‘came back’?” he questioned in an embarrassed mumble.
            “He loves you,” Aerith said in lieu of answer. “You’re all he thinks about, Vincent. You’re everything to him.”
            The dark gunman drew a sharp breath at her words. “I feel the same,” he said, his velvety voice dropping until it was an unconsciously seductive murmur. “The memories I have of him are. . .,” sensual, beautiful, overwhelming, perfect, “nice.”
            She did giggle then, she couldn’t help it. “Nice?” she teased lightly. “Is that the best you can do, Vincent?”
            He merely blushed harder and looked away and she could only grin at him. “I can’t wait to see the two of you together,” she said. “It’s going to be a beautiful reunion.”
            The blush died abruptly, replaced a surprisingly beatific smile. “Yes, it is.”
            Aerith couldn’t help the shaft of relief that went through her at those simply spoken words. A part of her had worried that Vincent’s demons--no pun intended--would make it difficult for him to accept the love Yazoo was waiting so patiently to give him. To know that Vincent had accepted the boy, and his own feelings, was enough to convince her that she had done the right thing in guiding them to one another. Vincent would have Yazoo, Cloud would be reunited with Kadaj, Reno would have his second chance with Rufus, and Sephiroth would have the future he had always wanted with his handsome redheaded SOLDIER. All that was left was to defeat Jenova and to convince Angeal Hewley that his honor would not be tarnished if he brought a third person into his relationship with Zack.
            It would be a challenge, she knew, but she was certain that she was up to it. Angeal was a good man, and Zack loved him so much. There was no way she would ever try to come between them, unless it was in bed, which was a whole different thing altogether. That, she wouldn’t mind at all, and by the time she was done with him, neither would Angeal Hewley.
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            The sun shone high overhead, beating down mercilessly on the hilly grasslands which surrounded Fort Condor. Nearly every member of Shinra Electric Power Company’s private army was assembled, fighting mock battles against both each other and three 1st Class Generals. As Genesis parried a particularly bad sword-blow from a lowly 2^nd Class grunt, he wondered what the hell he was doing here. He should be back in Midgar, helping Sephiroth prepare for Rufus’ ascension. Instead, he was stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere, training the worst bunch of incompetent cadets he had ever seen.
            Sephiroth most definitely owed him for this one!
            The grunt in question, a boy with a bad crew-cut and no finesse whatsoever, made the mistake of throwing a weak Fire1 spell his way. Genesis scowled as he deflected the magic with Rapier, his azure eyes narrowing in a way that had the SOLDIER scrambling backwards, his Jr. Buster held at an awkward angle before him. Genesis made a disgusted sound, lifted Rapier, and lunged forward. He used his superior speed to put the cadet in his place, his infamous scarlet sword moving in a flurry of movements too quick for the unenhanced cadet to follow. When he withdrew, the boy was covered head-to-foot in small, shallow cuts, his ordinary brown eyes wide with pain, his shoulders hunched as he cowered in abject terror.
            “Humph.” Genesis lifted one auburn brow before turning away in disgust. “Go to the infirmary and have those wounds taken care of, Private.”
            Relief flashed across the boy’s plain, unremarkable features. “Sir, yes, Sir!”
            As the boy beat a hasty retreat to the medical tent, Genesis could only shake his head and tromp away. Not one of these cadets so far had been able to offer a challenge, and he was bored out his fucking mind. Goddess, but he hated this shit! Angeal was the teacher, not him. He didn’t have the patience--or the desire--for it. Even Zack was doing better than he, and the puppy had the attention span of a flea! Again, what the hell was he doing here?
            “Fucking Sephiroth,” he muttered under his breath, glaring at any cadet stupid enough to turn towards him as he trudged through the mock battlefield. Unsurprisingly, not one had the courage to challenge him. As they turned away and found others to play with, he struggled to hold onto his flashpoint temper. He knew why Sephiroth had insisted he come here. The other man had worried that, if he and Rufus’ coup failed, the other Firsts would be implicated as a result. They were his men, his SOLDIERs, and Sephiroth had always taken his responsibilities much too seriously.
            Of course, there was also the fact that he was madly in love with his Second-In-Command. Genesis grinned suddenly at the thought. In his typical domineering, overbearing fashion, Sephiroth had actually tried to forbid him from staying behind. Needless to say, that had gone over like a lead balloon. Genesis had actually held on to his temper that time, using every bit of cunning he possessed to compel his lover to comply with his own wishes.
            After some amazingly hot sex, Sephiroth had finally admitted that he feared for his safety. Genesis had been insulted, at first, until the other man confessed that losing him was his greatest fear. How the hell was he supposed to have fought that?
            In the end he hadn’t, which was why he was here, baking under the hot summer sun, instead of back at Shinra Tower, where he belonged. He didn’t necessarily miss smog-filled Midgar, but Sephiroth was there, and he did miss him. He hated sharing a tent--even if it was a large one--with Angeal and Zack, who fucked like rabbits when they thought he was sleeping. He hated lying in the dark on a lumpy, wholly uncomfortable cot, listening to his best friend get laid while he went without. He wanted to be back in Midgar, wrapped in Sephiroth’s arms, not here in the fucking boondocks alone.
            Genesis made his way to his tent and closed the flap behind him, cursing as he was immediately enveloped him in suffocating heat. “This is bullshit!” he exclaimed angrily. “I’ve been here for two fucking days already, and he hasn’t even had the decency to call. He’d better have a damn good explanation for this, or he’s a fucking dead man!”
            Logically, Genesis knew that Sephiroth was only playing it safe, making sure that he and the other Firsts wouldn’t be tainted by scandal. Unfortunately for Sephiroth, logic had never been Genesis’ strong suit. While he might understand why he’d been exiled to this godforsaken place, he did not like it. If Sephiroth didn’t call him by the end of the night, he was going to find himself sleeping alone when Genesis got home. Period. End of argument.
            The thought of sleeping without Sephiroth was enough to piss him off all over again. “Shit!”
            He tossed Rapier to the floor beside his bunk, his jacket and gloves quickly following. He threw himself down on the sorry excuse for a bed, ignoring the metal frame as it squeaked alarmingly, and fought the urge to throw a major temper tantrum. He didn’t want to be away from Sephiroth, damn it all! The man had nearly died less than a fortnight ago, and he still hadn’t recovered from the fucking trauma.
            Sephiroth, of course, had taken it all in stride, merely saying that he was glad Hojo that was dead, and that Genesis was safe. He’d admitted that Hojo had threatened Genesis, and that that had been the deciding factor in his decision to kill the man who had raised him. Genesis still couldn’t believe that Sephiroth had been willing to kill for him, let alone die for him. And yet, he didn’t doubt the other man’s words. Sephiroth loved him. In his mind, Genesis was his to protect, and so he had.
            Not that he needed protection, Genesis thought with a snort. He was a SOLDIER 1^st Class, second only to Sephiroth in skill. He was more than capable of handling anything that came his way. Hojo, sneaky snake in the grass that he’d been, wasn’t enough to scare him. Of course, he could understand why Sephiroth had reacted the way that he had. After twenty-five years of being tortured by the man, there had to have been some residual fear there. Sephiroth had turned on President Shinra for trying to keep them apart, so it really wasn’t too surprising that he’d been willing to kill Hojo for threatening his life.
            Still, Genesis was both humbled and a little uneasy with the knowledge. He’d always known that Sephiroth cared for him, in his own unique way, but he’d never fully grasped the depth of the other man’s feelings. Sephiroth’s love for him was undeniably real, but it wasn’t like the quiet, controlled man he knew to do something that was so-so. . .impulsive. He must have been completely terrified to respond to Hojo’s threats in such an uncharacteristically reckless way, and that was where the unease came in. What could Hojo have possibly said that would have evoked such fear in his normally fearless lover?
            He didn’t know, and he hated the not knowing. There was something else going on there, something Sephiroth either couldn’t--or didn’t want --to admit. Well, he’d find out once he got home, Genesis decided. Sephiroth might not tell him everything, but he’d never lie to Genesis’ face. All Genesis had to do was ask the right question, and Sephiroth would confess all.
            “He’d better,” Genesis grumbled under his breath, scowling as his phone began to ring obnoxiously. “That had better be you, Seph, or somebody’s going to die.”
            He leaned over the edge of the cot and dug around the inside of his trench until found what he was looking for. He flipped the PHS open, grinning as he saw the name that flashed across the screen. He brought it his ear and said, “It’s about damned time!”
            A low, deep laugh sounded in his ear, and he melted into the uncomfortable mattress. “I’ve missed you, too, kitten.”
            Goddess, but he loved the sound of Sephiroth’s voice! “Don’t even!” he declared sharply. “All I want to hear from you is, ‘Come home, Genesis,’.”
            “Come home, Genesis.”
            Genesis sat up quickly. “Really?” he questioned with eagerness. “It’s done?”
            “Yes, it is done,” Sephiroth returned softly. “I am officially recalling the army. Come home, kitten. Our quarters feel empty without you.”
            A warm feeling washed over Genesis at his words. “Now that is definitely romantic, Sephiroth.”
            “I am glad you think so.” A deep sigh sounded. “Hurry home, Genesis. I’ve been without you too long.”
            “I’ll be there before bedtime,” Genesis promised, already making mental preparations. “You’d better wait up for me, moonbeam, or I’m going to take it out of your ass when I get there.”
            Sephiroth laughed again. “And what makes you think I would protest, kitten?”
            Genesis’ heart leapt at the heated tone his lover used. “That’s it!” he declared, jumping to his feet and heading to the end of the cot. He opened his footlocker and began to rummage through his things, talking all the while. “I’ll be home before supper, Seph. I don’t care if I have to prod the entire army with Rapier. I promise you, I’ll be there.”
            “And I will be waiting,” Sephiroth returned, the solemnity of the moment ruined by the mirth in his voice. “We have yet to ‘try out’ the rest of the new furniture, after all.”
            Genesis dropped the boot he was holding. “Fucking hell!” he swore, swiftly bending to retrieve it. “You’ll pay for that one, Sephiroth.”
            “Promises, promises, koneko.”
            That dark voice swept over him like a physical caress, and he moaned faintly in response. “Shit, Seph,” he whispered thickly, “you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”
            “Yes, I do, Genesis. I feel the same.”
            Genesis gripping the phone so tightly that it threatened to crack under the strain. “I’ll be home soon,” he swore just bit desperately.
            “And I will be waiting, kitten.”
            He swallowed hard, knowing that if he didn’t hang up now, he’d never get hell out here. “I love you, Sephiroth.”
            A swift intake of breath, and then, “I love you too, Genesis. Hurry home.”
            “I will.”
            Genesis forced himself to close the phone, effectively ending the call. Gods, he thought with a shiver of longing, he really had missed Sephiroth. Not just the sex, although he was definitely looking forward to that, but just him. Sephiroth was the only man he had even known who had been willing to put him first. He put up with the mood swings, the drama, and all the rest of his bullshit, without batting an eye. He was the only person who had ever truly loved him for himself, and that was all Genesis had ever really wanted.
            With Sephiroth, he’d known from the start that there would be no other men. Sephiroth wouldn’t have been able to handle it, and quite frankly, he would have killed anyone Sephiroth had chosen. When it came down to it, he was just as possessive as Seph was, even if he had never realized why.
            Gods, he still couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to see what had been right in front of him all along. He’d spent six years fighting Sephiroth and the effect he had on him, never realizing exactly what it meant, or that he affected Sephiroth the same way. He hated that he’d hidden the truth from himself for so long, or that he’d hurt Sephiroth as much as he had, but he couldn’t change the past. All he could do was thank The Goddess that Sephiroth had given him a second chance, and do his best to make it up to him.
            And he would, Genesis told himself firmly. He’d make Sephiroth so blissfully fucking happy that he’d forget that Genesis had ever been less than kind to him. They’d rescue their boys, settle down somewhere, and live a normal life.
            He smiled at the thought which would have once sent him running for the hills, but it was true. The ten years he’d spent at Shinra had been wonderful, but he was ready to move on. Genesis didn’t need to risk his life every day to find excitement. Sephiroth was exciting enough all on his own. Add to that the three children they were going to raise, and he knew that he’d never need anything else. He’d found his place, and it was at Sephiroth’s side.
            Keeping that thought firmly in mind, he sent a text to both Angeal and Zack, telling them to inform the troops of their early departure. He wanted to be gone within the hour, and he always got what he wanted.
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Final Fantasy VII: Angelic Threnody