New Life

The next few days were difficult, to put it lightly. Rufus made a point of avoiding any kind of intimate contact with Sephiroth, and he could tell he was becoming quite irritated with him. The economics professor had honestly meant to break off their so-called relationship days ago, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it. But, apparently Sephiroth had found something intriguing at the local library concerning Jenova, and was taking a sabbatical in order to visit Nibelheim. What could possibly be in Nibelheim, Rufus couldn’t guess. The only thing of interest that he knew of was the ShinRa mansion, but that, as far as he knew, held no thrills for Sephiroth. Still, he resolved to speak to him before he left, today, if possible. Perhaps Sephiroth’s enthusiasm would help to smooth over whatever bumps their confrontation would create.

Sephiroth frowned as he saw the familiar strawberry-blonde enter his classroom later that day, where he sat to review his lecture for the next class. If Rufus had come for one more inane errand, and not just to see him…

“Can I help you?” he asked as coldly as possible, looking up at the other man over silver-rimmed glasses.

“You’re chipper today.” Sarcasm dripped from Rufus’ mouth on reflex, and he inwardly cursed himself.

“Is it that obvious?”

“…What’s bothering you?” As if he didn’t already know.

“Sexual frustration,” Sephiroth answered with pure ice in his voice. He removed his glasses with a short sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he set them on the desk. “Why have you been avoiding me, Rufus? Did I do something, say something…?”

“…No. But I have been meaning to talk to you.”

“Oh really.”

“…Yes. I think we should stop this, Sephiroth. We don’t really have a relationship, do we? It’s just sex…and you deserve more than that, quite frankly. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you.”

Hurt struck Sephiroth’s face, and Rufus didn’t need to be an empath to feel horrible for it. But the hurt faded almost as quickly as it had appeared, and Sephiroth was once again calm and cold. “…Of course. There’s no love between us. If you want to end it, then it’s ended. It’s not a big deal.”

“…Is it?”

“Of course not.” His eyes narrowed slightly, and his voice turned even icier. “You were beginning to irritate me anyway,” he lied.

“…Was I.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“…Yes, it is. Very well then. I’ll see you when you return form Nibelheim, professor.” With that, Rufus turned and left the classroom, leaving Sephiroth to put his head in his hands with a sigh.

That had been yesterday afternoon. Now, early the next morning, Sephiroth was just settling into his seat on an airship to Nibelheim, the relatively private cabin consisting of four seats, two on each side of the small room. His weekend-sized bag was carelessly tossed to the shelf above his head, and he crossed his legs as he settled into the seat. He rested his elbow on the large window, and his chin in his hand, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He had really thought it was possible for there to be something between he and Rufus. But that was nonsense, honestly, wasn’t it? They were both fully-grown men, after all, and no longer susceptible to puppy love. It was a useless notion that they could be together. …Then why did it hurt?

Sephiroth shook his head, and focused his attention out the window. He had more important things to worry about than his irrational attempts at a love life. The answer to the cryptic puzzle that was his dreams could possibly be right in front of him. Well, across an ocean and half a continent, but in front of him nonetheless. All of his studying, and he still knew so little about Jenova. All that had been recorded of the Holy War was that ShinRa, Inc. had been performing experiments with Jenova cells. A small rebel group known as AVALANCHE had somehow become involved, and the summoning of a great being had brought forth the great WEAPONs, one of which, rumor had it, still lurked somewhere beneath the waters of the very ocean he prepared to fly over now. Using the Black Materia, that being had summoned Meteor, which AVALANCHE and ShinRa both attempted to destroy. In the end, ShinRa was demolished, its President killed by an attack of Diamond WEAPON, and AVALANCHE destroyed the being. There was no record of how Meteor was stopped, but legends of the lifestream coming alive and saving the planet were common. He supposed he may never know the truth, but he wanted to try.

At the library, why had he called it the Jenova Project? As far as he knew, there was never any such thing. There were experiments, of course, but no official project. No one even really knew what “Jenova” was. The title was just another piece of the puzzle, and he hoped all the more dearly to be able to solve it.

He felt someone slump into the seat beside him, and lifted his head to turn and face the newcomer. The boy only looked to be about seventeen, barely old enough to be traveling so far on his own. He seemed as though he was only a bit shorter than Sephiroth himself, and well built. His slightly baggy blue jeans surely hid lean, visibly long legs, and his white muscle shirt left very little to the imagination, showing off chiseled flesh that had been tanned golden brown. Wild black spikes fell over a handsome, softly angled face, the rest tucked back into a nearly nonexistent ponytail. He carried a small duffel bag, which he carefully kicked under his seat with his heel. He looked up at Sephiroth with startlingly bright blue eyes and a smile that could warm Shiva’s heart.

“Hello,” he offered brightly, along with his hand, “my name’s Zack Davison.”

“Sephiroth Stanford,” the man returned as cheerfully as he could, which wasn’t very, and took Zack’s hand, shaking it firmly.

“It’s nice to meet you! So how come you’re going to Nibelheim? It’s not exactly a tourist spot, you know.”

“…It’s a business trip.”

“What’s your business?”

“I’m a history professor at Junon University.”

“Really?!” the boy asked incredulously, as if such a thing as a history professor was unheard of. “Wow, and you aren’t that much older than me, right? You must be really smart!”

Sephiroth wanted to smile, he honestly did, but his current mood refused to let him. Zack looked so much like a child, with his bright eyes and immature grin. Sephiroth could only imagine how old his must have looked, with all that was on his mind right now.

“I like to think I’m a bit above the ordinary,” he finally answered.

“Yeah, well you’ve gotta be, to teach people! Me, I’m going home. I’ve got a break in my classes, so I decided to go home for awhile so my mom doesn’t think I’m dead. ‘Cause ya know, she worries a lot; I mean she worries if I don’t call her every night at 6.30! She must still think I’m seven or something! I have to hold her hand when we walk down the street because she’s scared I’ll get lost or something I guess does your mom do that? No I guess not my mom’s pretty fubar and yours probably isn’t ‘cause you look like a well-adjusted individual. You know I’m in my freshman year at Junon U., but I’ve never seen you, but that’s probably because I’m not taking history huh? I’m studying drama, I’m gonna be an actor!” He brightened, if that was possible. “Hey you wanna see me do a part??”

“That’s really not necess—” Too late. Before Sephiroth could finish his sentence, Zack was out of his seat, and performing the part of Marcus from a usually poorly done old play, “I Want To Be Your Canary,” and quite passionately at that. Sephiroth vaguely remembered attending a performance of the play some years ago, seeing videotapes of others, and finding it dull, lifeless, and overly romantic. But from Zack, the lines took on a more lively air, a more believable romance than he had ever seen, so much so that Sephiroth smiled, despite the questions and macabre images that clouded his mind.

When the youth finished the scene, and turned to Sephiroth expectantly, the older man simply said in a soft voice, “I think you’ll be a very successful actor, Zack.”

The rest of the trip was spent in relative pleasantness, and although Sephiroth really felt the need to sit in silence and ponder the secrets of his plagued and cryptic mind, he was glad for the comforting sound of Zack’s smooth, slightly deep voice. It was calming to hear him ramble on about school, freedom, the abundance of women in Junon, and then his mother, his sister and his hometown, then again to dreams of performing on stage with a lead role.

When they arrived in Nibelheim, and Zack heard of Sephiroth’s lack of lodging, he immediately offered his hospitality, along with assurances that it would be all right, and would not take no for an answer. The boy slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbed Sephiroth by the wrist, practically dragging him to his modest home near the center of the small town.

“I hope my mom doesn’t throw too much of a duck fit…” Zack grinned. “But don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be okay! Come on!” He opened the door, and stepped far enough inside to allow Sephiroth to follow. “Ma, I’m home!”

“Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack Zack!!”

Sephiroth had to take a step back to avoid being knocked to the floor as a small figure zoomed into the room and leaped up to cling to Zack’s waist, shoving him back onto his rear. When they landed, Sephiroth noted that the figure was in fact a young girl, surely no more than seven or eight, with long blue-black hair that threatened to become as wild as Zack’s if not properly attended to. He couldn’t see her face; it was nuzzled too tightly against Zack’s chest. It looked as though she was cutting off the poor boy’s air supply, but he was only laughing and returning her embrace.

“Lita!” Zack said within a laugh, and he drew her away from him to look at her and kiss her cheeks.

Sephiroth could only stare for a moment. She was perhaps the most beautiful child he had ever seen. Her eyes were clear and bright, that same neon-like blue that Zack possessed. Her skin was like ivory, and almost visibly soft, without a single noticeable blemish or abnormality. He could only imagine how beautiful she would be when she was older. “This is your sister?” he finally managed.

Zack blinked, and looked up at Sephiroth as though he was only just coming back to reality. Then he grinned. “Yeah!” He stood, picking up the girl and resting her on his hip. “This is my sister, Lita. Lita, this is Sephiroth. He’s a very nice man who’ll be staying with us for a few days. Say hello and be nice, okay?”

The girl smiled at Sephiroth, and her voice was like a soft bell as she near whispered, “Hello.”

“Hello yourself,” Sephiroth returned, unable to restrain his warm smile. He stepped forward and took hold of her tiny hand, bending to touch a gentle kiss to the back of it. “It certainly is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a lovely young lady.”

She giggled, and her voice became more confident. “You’re very pretty.”

“Well, thank you, Lita. So are you.”

“Where’s ma, Leets?” Zack interrupted.

“She’s out back, in the garden.”

“Great. Go play, okay? I’ll come see you in a little while.” He set her down, and the girl happily scampered off.

“She’s beautiful,” Sephiroth said with a smile.

“Isn’t she? Come on, come meet my ma.” Zack dropped his duffel near the door, and then gestured for Sephiroth to follow as he headed out the back door. A figure kneeling in front of a small patch of flowers looked up with a gracious smile as Zack called out, “Ma!” Her hair was a soft, dirty blonde, tucked away from her sun-kissed face into a bun at the base of her neck, but a few strands managed to slip free, hanging in light waves around her cheeks. When she smiled, Sephiroth could see the tiny crinkles forming around the outside of her eyes, and when she stood, her hair caught the light so that her thin streaks of grey became visible. She must have been nearly forty, but, aside from the physical consequences of having two children, she seemed in good health, and was actually quite attractive. However, Sephiroth was once again startled by the pair of eyes he found himself looking into. Her eyes were a very deep brown, and Sephiroth idly wondered if both children looked exactly like their father.

“Zack, you’re home!” the woman elated, and rushed for her sun, capturing him in her embrace. She held him for a long while before stepping back. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Sephiroth! It’s okay if he stays with us for a couple days, right?”

“Of course, of course. Come on Sephiroth, we’ll get you settled in and a hot meal inside you.” She smiled warmly at him as she stepped towards the door.

Within an hour, Sephiroth’s things were arranged in the guest room, and he was presented with a bowl of hot soup, which Zack informed him would be deadly to refuse. Within two, he was approaching the museum, formerly what locals called the ShinRa mansion. He managed to talk his way in, despite the fact that it was past the time the museum usually closed, by showing the guard on hand his University identification.

“Stay as long as you like, Professor. I’ll tell the night guard to let you out when you’re finished.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as Sephiroth entered the building, a shudder passed through him and a chill settled on his spine. The floor creaked as he took his first steps inside; the museum was obviously deliberately kept just less than habitable, to add to the atmosphere. Everything inside was kept just as photographs depicted it had been, as though people had recently been staying there. The only difference was that in each room, there were glass cases lining the walls, containing artifacts from the area and time when the mansion was at its prime.

Sephiroth looked to his left, and walked around to the door leading into the nearest small room. It was empty, except for a desk against the wall and the glass cases surrounding it. Slowly he stepped farther inside, peering into the cases, and he sighed at the ordinary nature of the objects. Then a small plague stuck against the glass caught his eyes, and he stepped closer. Next to the plaque, there were three pieces of crumpled, yellowed paper, scribbled on with a scrawling black pen. The words were messy, nearly illegible, but Sephiroth had no problem reading it. He shivered. That handwriting seemed so familiar… He could picture it on notepads, strewn about a cluttered office near a laboratory, frantically scribbled by a small man in a white coat… Who was that? He strained to imagine a face, but as his illusory figure turned to him, a bright light flashed white before his eyes, and he found himself back in the ShinRa mansion.

‘What in the world…?’ Sephiroth shook his head as if to clear it, and tried again to focus on the letter.

"I must get rid of all those that stand in the way of my research. Even that one from the Turks. I scientifically altered him, and put him to sleep in the basement. If you want to find him, then search the area. But...this is merely a game I thought of. It is not necessary for you to participate if you don't want to. Move the dial on the safe carefully, but quickly. You have 20 seconds. You cannot go past the numbers while turning. The 4 hints for the numbers are...

(Dial 1)-The lid of the box with the most oxygen.

(Dial 2)- Behind the ivory's short of tea and ray.

(Dial 3)- The creek in the floor near the chair on the second floor...then to the left five steps, up nine steps, left two steps, and up six step.”

The last was apparently blank, but a small notice stated that the last page had been written in invisible ink, and read--

“(Dial 4)- (Right 97)”

“…Terrible,” he muttered, and glanced to the plaque.

‘This letter was found in this room. The author is unknown. The hints concerning a dial are assumed to refer to a safe in one of the upstairs rooms, but the safe was found open and empty. It is unknown to whom the letter refers, or what happened to him, as no basement has ever been discovered here at the mansion.’

Sephiroth blinked. ‘Not discovered? Of course there’s a basement! It’s…it’s…’ He paused. How did he know this? He had never been here before. If they said there was no basement, then there must be no basement. A bright flash hit him again, accompanied this time by a loud whistle, piercingly high-pitched and harsh to his ears, so much so that it caused him to clutch the sides of his head and double over. He gasped, one hand reaching out after a moment to help him lean his weight against the glass. But he wasn’t in that small room. He was in a library, near a desk with a large, comfortable chair, surrounded on all sides by books. It was dank in that library, the scent of old paper and older suffering filtering through the room. The weight of something like death weighed heavily on Sephiroth’s lungs, but instead of being disgusting, it somehow excited him. The room seemed to be a living entity in and of itself, so rich was it in history and emotion. But what was this place?

As the image faded, and Sephiroth once again found himself in that drafty museum room, he pushed away from the glass and staggered weakly to the doorway. What in the hell was happening to him?

Sephiroth stood up straight in the empty hallway, shaking his head to rid himself of the last of his vertigo. Now he was determined to solve the riddle of this mansion. He wanted to know what was happening to him, and why. He wanted to know what it was he was seeing and feeling.

He paused a moment to regain his balance before walking on until he caught a glimpse of a piano in a room to his left. He stepped to the doorway, and didn’t see anything else of real interest. But as he turned to go, he felt a strange urge, puling at his body and pleading with his mind. He turned his head back to peer into the room, his attention drawn immediately to the grand piano, and before he knew it he was seated at the bench, long fingers resting lightly on the ivory keys. The instrument was mostly dust-free; they obviously took quite good care of it.

A small smile touched the professor’s lips as he brushed his fingertips over the keys, mildly delighting in the small grooves from year upon year of use. He tentatively pressed down on an A, and smiled as he discovered the piano in tune. He had been passably good with a piano when he was younger, but it had been a few years since he played. And he shouldn’t play it now. Who knew how long it had been since they had changed the wire? He didn’t want to be responsible for damaging the instrument.

But he felt the pulling again, and his eyes closed as his fingers began to press into the keys, forming a tune he didn’t recognize. How could he play a song he didn’t know? His head dropped lifelessly and he swayed very slightly as he played, the low, melancholy notes oozing from the instrument and drifting out into the corridor.

Sephiroth opened his eyes then to glance down at the keys, but he never got that far. His eyes widened as he looked out the small window that gave a nice view into the town, now obscured by smoke and orange flames that licked hungrily at the houses. He tried to run for the window, the door, anything, but his body would let him do nothing but play. Voices of the townsfolk, women, children, all screamed loud enough for him to hear, tortured cries assaulting his ears as the small of burning wood and flesh attacked his ears.

He looked down at himself, trying to pull his hand from the piano so that he could help the people of the town, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. What was he doing while that little girl was in danger?! He had to break free of this, he had to help—wait a moment. What had happened to his clothing? It had changed; now instead of his casual suit he wore black leather from head to toe, metal-hinged gloves clinging to his slender fingers as they continued to play. He felt the weight of a long coat behind him, and the thin straps of brown leather cross-crossed over his otherwise bare chest. The metal plates covering the boots that reached his knees creaked ever so slightly as his foot moved to press on one of the pedals, allowing the notes to slip together. On his belt there was a large buckle bearing a strange symbol. Why did it look so familiar as well?

Shaking his head, he broke free of his reverie and returned to trying to move away from the instrument. Just as he began to panic, the room went silent. He had stopped playing. No one was screaming. The flames had disappeared, leaving the town exactly as it had been. And there his sat, in his own clothes again, staring dumbfounded out the window. Another vision? What did it mean? He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and hastily sketched the symbol he had seen onto his palm.

“Damnit,” he cursed aloud, a bit louder than he meant to. He was frustrated beyond belief with all the riddles his mind had presented. There had to be some explanation for all of it; Sephiroth began to become more sure of the idea that the answer lay within that mystery basement. He knew it existed. It had to.

He slowly stood, feeling a bit weak in the knees, but he managed to leave the room. The center staircase creaked in protest as he carefully made his way up it, first heading down the hallway to his left. Two doors stood at the end of the hallway, one directly ahead of him and the other to his right. Peeking into the one straight ahead and finding only clutter, he quickly opened the other door. Inside was more clutter, surrounding a large metal safe as tall as his chest that lay open and empty.

A small stand next to the safe bore a plaque, which read: “The safe in this room was discovered already open and empty. It did not seem to have been broken into. It is assumed that the combination hinted at by the letter downstairs refers to this safe, but the former contents have never been discovered.”

Sephiroth paused, tilting his head to the side a bit. “Well the key would have been in here, then,” he mumbled to himself. “The key to get to the man in the basement.” He stopped, and blinked. “Basement…I have to find the basement.”

The professor turned on his heel and stalked purposefully out of the room, racking his mind for anything that might help him find the basement he simply knew was there.

‘Let’s see…down this corridor, around that corner…this room!’ He stood in front of the door for a moment, just staring at the weak, decorated wood of the entryway. There had to be a way to the basement in this room. There simply had to be. But did the answers he sought lie within that basement? He took a deep break, and in one smooth motion opened the door and slipped inside. His breath caught in his chest as he quickly glanced around.

A desk, and end table, and a small wooden chair. Nothing else.

Sephiroth stepped further inside, turning a slow circle to look att around. He let out a low growl, spitting out a curse and slamming the side of his fist against the stone wall in frustration. A sudden grating of rock on rock brought a startled yelp from him, and he stepped back as the wall began to move. A door appeared as the stone slid to the side, leading down to a rickety-looking spiral staircase that near disappeared into the darkness at the bottom. His eyes widened as he leaned over the edge, peering down at the small trickle of light coming from what appeared to be a hallway at the bottom of the stair.

‘This has to be it…how didn’t they notice this? Didn’t they check everything? …Those stairs don’t look too stable. But if I die, I die. No big loss.’ With that, he stepped out cautiously onto the first step, pausing to listen to the uneasy creaking as it settled against itself. ‘Well that one’s safe at least.’ He continued to the bottom, slowly, testing each step before putting his full weight on it. Where was that light coming from? Surely no one was down here…oh. Lamps. The stop spell must have kept them lit for this long. He peered up at the oddly still fire in the lamps for just a moment before continuing down the cavelike hallway. A shudder ran through him; this basement felt even more familiar than the rest of the mansion, like a large part of him he never knew existed had been left here, waiting patiently for him to return and retrieve it. As he neared the door at the end of the hallway, his heart pounding without him really knowing why, a soft glint caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned to face it, and saw an open door that had completely missed his notice, with the handle of a small golden key poking out of the keyhole.

Hesitantly he stepped towards it, resting his hand on the hard wooden door. Did he know this room? …No. Only a vague image of a locked door that was not important enough to bother finding the key for. But now it was already unlocked. He carefully pushed the door fully open and stepped inside, blinking at the sight of an open coffin in the middle of the room. What in the hell? Sephiroth moved over to the coffin, crouching to the floor and reaching out to gently touch the side, feeling out the soft red velvet inside. It looked as though it had been occupied for quite some time, yet now there was no sign of a body or even a skeleton. As he looked the smooth wooden body over with a furrowed brow, he paused, and peered more closely at the underside of the open lid, lightly letting his fingers brush where a single word had been scratched into the wood by what looked like fingernails.

“Lucretia,” Sephiroth murmured, the name sending a shiver down his spine. What did that mean? Yet another mystery had presented itself. The professor sighed, rising to his feet and running a hand through his hair. What the hell was going on? What were all of these memories? He scuffed his foot on the dirty stone floor in frustration. He came here to find answers, and instead all he found were more questions, more riddles.

It seemed apparent, however, that this must have been the room containing the men spoke about in the letter. If that was the case, where was he now? How long had it been since the door had been unlocked? If the key was in the safe, and no one knew what had happened to the contents of the safe, then this door must have been unlocked long before the museum became such, perhaps even during the war. Well. That was one relatively small puzzle solved. And yet the identity of the man in the coffin sparked his curiosity. Who was he? Who had put him there? Why? …And what kind of experiments had been done on him? He hoped it wasn’t something too ghastly, though his gut told him that it was. There was a feeling of remorse and guilt in this room, and Sephiroth could feel it seeping into every inch of his being.

With a shudder, Sephiroth decided to temporarily abandon that mystery, so he turned and left the room, heading for the other door. This one he opened without hesitation, thinking that by now he should be prepared for the unexpected. But as soon as he stepped inside, the man felt as if he would wet his pants in joy.

Books. Books. And more books. On the shelves, on the tables, stacked on the floor, some open, some closed, some worn, some new. And all undoubtedly from the Holy War era! Surely his questions could he answered here! Surely any question could be answered here! And even if he still had visions, who cared? It would take him weeks to get through a library such as this!

With the grin and step of an excited schoolboy, Sephiroth rushed to the first stack of books and picked one up, not caring about the topic of the content in the least as he eagerly flipped through pages. Not even the faint small of the mold that had dared to touch a few of the tomes, or the foreboding feeling the air in the room tried to heap upon his shoulders could distract him from his euphoria. He fumbled in his coat pocket for his glasses, hastily shoving them onto his face before glancing down to the book once more, and he began to softly read aloud the words on the first page.