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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 Four

       ‘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
            “Genesis?!”
            SOLDIER 1st Class Genesis Rhapsodos dropped to his knees, ignoring the blood that pooled out beneath him and stained the knees of his thigh-high black boots. “Goddess!” he breathed, horrified as he realized that one of his closest friends was bleeding to death right in front of him. “What the fuck happened, Seph?”
            He watched with disbelief as Sephiroth blinked, his pale, cat-like eyes unfocused. “Gen?” he asked, his too-deep voice wavering precariously. “Is it... really you?”
            Genesis blinked with surprise and not a small amount of concern. “Yeah, who else would it be?” His gaze dropped to the gaping hole in Sephiroth’s abdomen and rage coursed through him. “I’m going to fucking kill Hojo!”
            Puzzlement knitted Sephiroth’s brow. “Why?” he asked with confusion.
            A choked laugh was his only response as Genesis pulled out his phone and flipped it open. “Just stay calm, Seph. Angeal and I will take of this.”
            “Angeal?” Sephiroth struggled to focus as spots danced across his eyes. “But he’s. . .dead.”
            “Not as dead as Hojo’s going to be,” Genesis muttered under his breath, swearing as he dialed and waited for the other man to pick up. He ignored Sephiroth’s strange declaration. The other man was never all ‘there’ after one of his sessions with Professor Hojo. Although, he wasn’t usually bleeding to death at the end of them!
            “General Hewley.”
            Genesis scowled into the mouthpiece. “Don’t you ever check your caller I.D.?” he snapped.
            There was a moment of silence. “Occasionally,” came the typically calm response. “What‘s up, Gen?”
            “It’s Sephiroth,” he said, biting his lip as he looked down at his bleeding lover. “Hojo really did a number on him. I need you to bring a Cure materia down to the lab.”
            He could feel Angeal’s frown as he spoke. “You know that Seph’s body doesn’t take well to curative magic, Gen.”
            Genesis turned away, lowering his voice, as he hissed, “Get your ass down here, Angeal. He’s fucking bleeding to death!”
            “What?!” There was a brief rustle of moment, the low intonation of a voice that wasn’t Angeal’s, and Genesis rolled his eyes. Fucking puppy, he thought with irritation. “I’ll be right there, Gen. Just keep him awake and try to stop the bleeding, alright?”
            “Yeah, yeah, I’m on it, Angeal. Just fucking hurry.” Genesis snapped the phone closed and tucked it away, turning his attention back to his the other man. Sephiroth was slumped against the wall, his six-foot-five-inch frame folding in on itself as he clutched at his bleeding stomach, making him look smaller than he actually was. Genesis swallowed hard, realizing that he’d never seen Sephiroth so. . . so vulnerable. He had never imagined that Sephiroth could be so vulnerable--at least, not physically.
            “Gen?”
            The deep voice that normally sent shivers of arousal down his spine now made him shudder with a mixture of fear and dread. “I’m here, Seph. Angeal’s on his way.” He glanced around the room, azure eyes narrowing a certain cabinet. “I’m going to get something to stop the bleeding. I’ll be right back.”
            Sephiroth didn’t respond, merely watched the other man through half-closed lids, his pale green eyes alight with pain and hunger. Genesis moved as he always did, his lean body graceful, his movements elegant, his mouth spouting those filthy curses that had always been at odds with his aristocratic bearing. He could only smile as Genesis finally found what he was looking for, slamming the cabinet door shut so hard that it warped both it and cabinet, an unintentional reminder of his SOLDIER strength.
            Genesis knelt beside him and ripped open a large plastic bag. “What are you smiling for?” he asked waspishly. “You do realize that you’re dying, don’t you?”
            He grunted once in acknowledgement, conserving his strength as Genesis began to bind the wound. The other man was shaking his head, muttering under his breath, threatening Hojo with a surprisingly varied assortment of vile and gruesome deaths. It only made the smile widen, despite the blackness that hovered on the edge of his consciousness. He had nearly forgotten what it been like to have Genesis as merely his friend, and he realized that he had missed that aspect of their relationship, as well.
            “I’ve missed you, Gen.”
            Genesis hesitated, struck by the sincerity in Sephiroth’s too-low voice. “It was a stupid fight,” he said at last, securing the bandages and tossing the leftover scraps aside. “It wasn’t your fault that Lazard didn’t choose me for that mission. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”
            I’m sorry.
            The words hovered unspoken between them, as they always had, but no longer. “I shouldn’t have accepted,” Sephiroth responded, his words slurred. He remembered this incident he thought fuzzily, and the long weeks they had spent apart because of it. He had always regretted not insisting that Lazard change his mind. “I know how important it was to you. I’m sorry.”
            “Hmph. It’s not like you had a choice.” Genesis reached out and touched his silver hair with a tentative, blood-stained gloved hand. “I-I’m sorry, too, Seph.”
            A first for them, Sephiroth thought with dim satisfaction. Who knew what could have come of it, had any of this been real.
            The door slid open with a quiet mechanical hiss, and Angeal came rushing in, his massive Buster Sword strapped to his back. “What happened?” he demanded, kneeling as he drew a small greenish orb from his weapons harness.
            Sephiroth could only stare in grieved silence at the ghost who had once been his friend. It wasn’t until Angeal actually touched him to check the severity of the injury that it hit him. This was really happening. This wasn’t his imagination, not the product of his dying mind, nor a false memory created to torture him in his endless purgatory. The Ancient had given him--The Nightmare, The One-Winged Angel--a second chance.
            When Sephiroth failed to answer, Angeal frowned and looked to Genesis, who shrugged his own ignorance, his voice a bit unsteady as he said, “I don’t know, either. He’s a little out of it right now. He thought you were dead when I first found him.”
            If anything, the frowned deepened. “We need to get him out of here before Hojo comes back,” Angeal said, his cobalt eyes narrowing in concentration as he cast a Cure3 spell. He watched with a critical eye as the curative magic did its work, hoping that it would at least be enough to stop the bleeding, if not close the wound. Sephiroth’s body had always had a high resistance to magic, curative or otherwise.
            He watched the younger man hiss with pain, his back arching as the wound knitted itself closed, and breathed a silent sigh of relief. He didn’t know exactly what Hojo had done to Sephiroth, but it didn’t really matter. The man had gone too far this time.
            “Seph?” He set one hand on Sephiroth’s shoulders, his tone gentling when the injured man focused on him. “Gen and I are going to take you back to your quarters. Can you stand?”
            Sephiroth didn’t answer, merely placed his right hand on the floor and pushed himself to his feet. His body swayed and he would fallen had his friends not prevented it. “It seems. . .that I cannot.”
            “We’ve got you,” Genesis crooned, shooting Angeal an infuriated glance as he pulled their friend’s arm over his shoulder. “Angeal and I will talk care of everything, Seph.”
            “Thank you,” came the exhausted reply.
            Angeal only shook his dark head negatively, silently urging the hot-tempered SOLDIER to keep his mouth shut, as he did the same. Sephiroth was already in pain, and he’d lost a lot of blood. The last thing he needed was to hear his lover rant about the indignities he had undoubtedly suffered at the hands of the man who had raised him. What he needed right now was to sleep, so that the mako coursing through his veins would have time to heal him more thoroughly.
            They took him upstairs via the cargo elevator, where they were least likely to attract unwanted attention. They had to stop on the 69th floor and switch elevators, but with Genesis slipping away to harass the 3rd Class cadets standing watch, it was relatively easy to sneak in to the one of the main elevators. He used his keycard to activate the elevator, then pushed the button for the 70th floor.
            Angeal uttered a sigh of pure relief as he half-carried, half-dragged Sephiroth’s taller form out of the elevator. Thank Gods, there were no guards up here, he thought fervently. While President Shinra lived here with his family, as did most of the Board Of Directors, the only other resident being Sephiroth himself. Unlike he and the rest of the 1st’s, The President insisted that Sephiroth live here. He liked having his best SOLDIER close, to deter possible any possible threats. Terrorists would think twice before attacking the home of the Silver Demon of Wutai, after all.
            Sephiroth stumbled, his usual feline grace gone, and Angeal tightened his hold protectively. “We’re almost there, Seph.”
            “Where’s Genesis?” Sephiroth mumbled, his words slurred so badly that they were nearly intelligible. “Is he still angry with me?”
            Angeal winced at that. “No, he’s not angry with you,” he assured him quietly. “He had to take care of the guards downstairs. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
            The younger man’s sigh of relief was so loud that Angeal could only shake his head, both stunned and surprised, by the amount of emotion that he was displaying. Sephiroth had been raised in Hojo’s laboratory, treated more like a scientific specimen than a human being. His emotional responses had always been a bit. . .off. He had made great strides in the decade since they’d become friends, but he would probably never have the more normal responses that most people took for granted.
            Which was why he had been so worried when he and Genesis had first become involved. They had been--and still were--polar opposites. Genesis as volatile as his red hair suggested, passionate and outspoken and stubborn beyond belief. Sephiroth was polite, distant, his passions always firmly controlled. He was not as cold as he seemed, but neither was he an easy man to know. But once you did know him, he was very easy to love, although he could be a bit. . .autocratic when dealing with his mercurial lover.
            And therein lied the problem, Angeal thought a bit sadly. Sephiroth had never known love before them, and when Genesis had taken their relationship to the next level, he had fallen hard. Unfortunately, that love had brought out the more. . .dominant aspects of his personality. Sephiroth definitely wore the pants in their ’household’, and Genesis absolutely hated it.
            Of course, Genesis wasn’t the most emotionally stable person in the world. While he was witty and charming and well-educated, he was also spoiled and fractious. Quick to take offense, even when one wasn’t meant, and slow to forgive any perceived insult. He was handsome and strong and had an inborn arrogance that both drew and repelled others, depending on their own temperaments. But inside, he was a seething mass of insecurities. He was always striving to improve himself, pushing himself to beyond his limitations, wanting nothing more than to be enough, never realizing that for those that loved him, he was. He hated taking second place to Sephiroth in SOLDIER--in anything--and his jealousy had added yet another unhealthy dimension to their relationship. Genesis had to come first, and woe to anyone who believed otherwise.
            And Sephiroth had never understood that. The professional jealousy he disregarded, as it was typical of most of the other SOLDIERs, and--in his mind--completely unfounded. He knew that he was lauded as a hero throughout the world, but he had never seen himself as such. He was different, yes, but in his mind, he was just him, seven-foot sword and all.
            They came upon the door to Sephiroth’s apartment, and Angeal sighed with heavy relief. “We’re here, Seph. Just hang on.” He steadied the taller man with one hand, fishing the keycard Sephiroth had given him years ago to unlock the door. It slid open and he took his friend inside.
            The apartment was dark, but he didn’t bother to turn on any lights. Thanks to the mako treatments every SOLDIER underwent, he could see everything in stunning detail, and the light would only aggravate Sephiroth's sensitive eyes. He was nearly carrying Sephiroth as they entered the bedroom, the other man’s short, shallow breaths indicating the amount of pain he was still in. Unfortunately, Sephiroth was immune to most painkillers, so there wasn’t much he could do.
            Angeal crossed to the bed and very carefully lowered Sephiroth to the mattress, bracing his back against the head board. “Here, drink this,” he said, producing a Hi-Potion from his pack and helping the other man drink it. “It should help you regain some of your strength. I’m going to get you out of these clothes and take a look at that wound. Once it’s clean, you can go to sleep. Okay?”
            “Whatever you think is best, Angeal,” came the unexpected, atypically docile response.
            “Uh-huh.” Angeal could only shake his head as he rose to his full height. “Be right back.”
            Sephiroth didn’t try to speak again, merely laid still and waited for Angeal to return. His bright green gaze found the open door, where a light now shone from somewhere in the apartment, and he found himself unable to look away as he waited for Genesis to join them. Angeal had said he would, and Angeal never lied. His pride demanded nothing less than absolute honesty, and he would rather die than betray his sense of honor.
            And so he had, Sephiroth remembered painfully. Unable to deal with the monster he believed he had become, he had chosen ‘suicide by Zack’, as the boy himself had once called it before bursting into tears. Sephiroth also remembered standing motionless at the boy’s side, unable to reach out or offer comfort, as his own heart had broken.
            Things would be different this time, he swore to himself. If nothing else, he would make sure Zack never had to go through that again, even if he had to be the one to take Angeal’s life. He could only hope that he could find a way to change everything that had happened. He didn’t think he would survive losing his friends--his family--a second time.
            Angeal came back into view, setting a bowl of water and a wet washcloth on the nightstand. “Let’s get you out of those clothes, Seph.”
            “I believe that’s my department, Angeal.”
            Sephiroth’s lips curled into a smile so warm that it startled both men, his bright green eyes locked on Genesis’ slim form as he slipped into the room. “Be my guest,” he said in a sensual, if somewhat ragged, voice.
            Genesis recovered first, blinking twice before gracefully gliding closer. “I think I’ll wait until you’re not covered in blood, thank you very much.”
            He chuckled, or began to, the sound cut off abruptly as he winced. “Perhaps, that is a good idea,” he murmured, his eyes following the other man as he rounded the bed. “I don’t believe I’m up to any. . .strenuous activities tonight.”
            A sound that suspiciously resembled a snort escaped the redhead as he sat on the other side of the bed. “You’d better not be,” he grumbled, only half-joking. “I’d hate to have to kill some poor cadet because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. I mean, think of the paperwork, Seph.”
            Sephiroth suppressed further, painful laughter at that. “Don’t worry, Genesis. I know how much you despise paperwork.”
            Angeal, whose presence he had very nearly forgotten, shifted on his other side. “Look, if you two are going to flirt all night, why don’t I just leave you to it?”
            “Sorry, ‘geal.”
            “My apologies, Angeal.”
            He grunted and rolled his eyes, reaching for the bloodied bandages. “Don’t try to help,” he warned, shooting his friend a stern look. “Just sit there and let me do all the work.”
            “As if.” Genesis scooted across the bed, his fine, aristocratic features betraying his worry as he came to rest at Sephiroth’s side. “Sephiroth’s a little stubborn when it comes to being topped.”
            “Genesis!” Angeal shot him a horrified look. “There are some things that I just don’t need to know.”
            Sephiroth’s gaze shifted from his embarrassed friend to his lover, who was rolling his own eyes in response. His gaze lingered on Genesis as Angeal opened his leather coat, and then asked him to lean forward so he could remove it. Genesis was watching him just as closely, a guarded look buried in the depths of those sky-blue eyes. He wondered if Genesis had been serious when he’d made that little comment, then decided that the best way to find out was to ask.
            “Does it bother you that much?”
            Genesis flushed and looked away, his pearly white teeth sinking into his lush bottom lip, and Sephiroth had his answer. One more thing his mercurial lover had never shared with him, he thought, both surprised and saddened by the knowledge. Had he ever truly known the man he loved?
            A muffled curse to his right drug Sephiroth’s attention back to Angeal. “What’s wrong?”
            Angeal hesitated before saying, “This looks like a sword wound, Seph.”
            One silver brow crept up. “Does it?” he asked with feigned disinterest.
            “Hell yes, it does!” Genesis exclaimed, rising to his knees to get a better look at it. “What the fuck is going on here, Sephiroth?”
            Sephiroth shrugged slightly, schooling his features to blandness. “I really couldn’t say,” he answered, adding, “I don’t remember much of what happened.”
            Two pairs of mako-infused eyes flew to his, both wide with disbelief. Sephiroth had a photographic memory. He never forgot anything. Genesis summed it up succinctly when he said, “Bullshit.”
            “Sephiroth. . .” Angeal hesitated, reluctant to question the younger man, even though he privately agreed. Still, it was hard to picture Professor Hojo, skinny little slug that he was, wielding a sword that could dish out this kind of damage. And, while there was no love lost between his friend and the man who’d raised him, he had never been able to talk Sephiroth into turning his back on him completely. If Hojo had done this, he would never be called on it.
            Which Sephiroth already knew, Angeal realized belatedly. It would do no good to name his attacker, so Sephiroth wouldn’t. It was that simple, and that sad.
“Well, regardless of how it happened,” he paused to clear his throat, “you’ll need to rest tomorrow. Genesis and I will cover for you at the office, and--”
            Sephiroth was already shaking his head. “That won’t necessary, Angeal, as I heal rather quickly.”
            “Seph--”
            “Let me handle this, Angeal.” Genesis leaned put a hand on either side of him and leaned in close. Temptingly close, Sephiroth thought as the other’s breath washed over his own lips. “You are staying home tomorrow. Period. End of argument. If you want to argue about it, you can do it once you’re healed. Until then, you stay the fuck put. You got that, moonbeam?”
            Instead of the frown he was expecting at the use of the rather intimate endearment, Sephiroth merely smiled and said, “Only if you stay with me--kitten.”
            Genesis scowled darkly and jerked away, tossing his layered hair huffily. “That’s fighting dirty, Seph.”
            Sephiroth sent him a heated look from under thick velvet lashes. “And you aren’t?” he questioned silkily.
            “Ahem.” Angeal was trying and failing to hide his grin as reached for the washcloth. “I guess, you’ll both owe me one. For doing three times the paperwork I normally would,” he added pointedly.
            The scowl was gone in an instant, replaced by a warm, delighted smile. Genesis truly hated paperwork. “You’re the best, Angeal.”
            “Yeah, yeah.”
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Final Fantasy VII: Angelic Threnody