Adult-FanFiction.org : Final Fantasy

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
- 46
- 47
- 48
Final Fantasy VII: Angelic Threnody
Chapter 48
'Legend shall speak of sacrifice at world's end. The wind sails over the water's surface quietly, but surely.' -Loveless, ACT IV
"Here you are."
Sephiroth looked up as a glass appeared on the table before him. "Thank you," he said politely, wrapping one hand around the cool glass.
"You're welcome." Gillian Hewley smiled warmly at the obviously nervous young man and took a seat opposite of him. "It's good to see you again, Sephiroth. How have you been?"
He thought of all that had happened in the past few months and smiled slightly. "I am well, Mrs. Hewley," he answered solemnly.
She only nodded and lifted her own glass to her lips. "Angeal has told me a little of what you've been through," she said as casually as she could. "I'm glad that you've handled. . .everything so well."
Sephiroth noticed the infinitesimal pause and his smile deepened fractionally. "It has been difficult," he allowed, "but the boys have made it all worthwhile."
The older woman only nodded her dark head, her blue-gray eyes crinkling at the corner's as she returned the smile. "I met Loz yesterday," she informed him. "Zack brought him over to visit. He's a very charming young man. He reminds me of Angeal, when he was a child."
"Does he?" Sephiroth asked with surprise, trying to imagine solemn Angeal acting as light-hearted as Loz, without much success.
Gillian only laughed and reached out to pat his hand. "Angeal wasn't always as serious as he is now, Sephiroth. That came with age and responsibility."
Sephiroth nodded immediately. Responsibility was something he understood all too well. "And Genesis?" he asked with curiosity. "What was he like as a child?"
Her expression softened tellingly. "Genesis was a good boy," she told him with obvious affection. "Oh, he had his moments, don't get me wrong. He had a horrible temper on him, and he could curse like a sailor when he was angry, but he and Angeal were inseparable. They were the very best of friends. Even when they fought, they couldn't stay mad at each other for long. I think Genesis spent most of his childhood sneaking into Angeal's bedroom window when he thought we weren't aware of it, usually to apologize for whatever fight they'd had."
Sephiroth chuckled at that. "They must have been quite the trial for you, Mrs. Hewley."
Gillian hid her surprise at the mirth reflected in the young SOLDIER's normally expressionless features. "They could be a handful," she admitted ruefully, "but they were good boys."
"They have become good men, as well," he told her sincerely. "I have never served with better SOLDIERs, nor had better friends. You raised them well, Mrs. Hewley."
She blinked at that. "Well, thank you, Sephiroth."
Sephiroth shook his head slightly. "I only speak the truth, Mrs. Hewley." He hesitated as he thought of the questions that had driven him here, and sighed as he forced himself to forge ahead. "As their friend, their well-being is very important to me. And as such, I'm afraid that I have been forced to take action on their behalves, which is what brings me here," he raised his head and met her gaze evenly, "to you."
Her face paled as she quickly looked away, and Sephiroth knew that she had grasped his meaning. "Mrs. Hewley, I know about the Jenova Project," he told her as gently as he could. The older woman flinched in response, and he pushed back a wave of guilt. This had to be done. "You need not worry about Genesis and Angeal. I have told them nothing, nor do I intend to. It would devastate them to learn the truth, and I would not wish to be responsible for that."
Gillian swallowed hard as the consequences of her past mistakes rose up to haunt her. Sephiroth paused, waiting for her to respond. When she failed to, he said, "Before I was forced to. . .leave Shinra, I was working with Dr. Hollander to find a way to stabilize the inert cells that Hojo predicted would break down. Have you—"
"Inert cells?" she exclaimed with surprise, and not a little unease. "Project 'G' was classified. How did Hojo know about crucial details like that?"
Sephiroth's features hardened dramatically. "Hojo knew a great deal that he shouldn't have," he stated coldly. "Regardless of how he came by the information, he had it, and I was able to use it to persuade Hollander to help me."
"Frank helped you?" she asked in a distracted murmur. "But, he hated Hojo. Why would he help you?"
"Because he knew that I was sincere in my desire to help my friends," Sephiroth replied simply. When the stunned woman merely shook her head in a rather helpless manner, he reached inside his leather trench and withdrew his cell phone. He set it on the table before him and slid it across the scarred wooden surface. "Call him and ascertain the truth for yourself. Then, we shall talk."
Angeal's mother looked from him to the phone, her expression showing an intriguing combination of dread and longing. As she reached for it with a visibly trembling hand, Sephiroth wondered if perhaps she didn't still have feelings for Dr. Hollander. It was none of his business, and he would certainly never ask, but if that was the case, then perhaps he could spare her from her fate, as well.
As she dialed the phone and waited for a response, Sephiroth rose and moved away. He wandered over into the living room, which was only separated from the kitchen by a square wooden arch, to give her the illusion of privacy. He did his best to ignore the murmured conversation, of which he could hear both sides quite clearly, as he came to a halt before an old, well-cared for sideboard. Picture frames of all different shapes, sizes, and wood grains were scattered across its glossy surface, and he couldn't help but smile as he ran his gaze over them.
There were pictures of Angeal and the man who had raised him, standing side-by-side in the apple orchards, appearing to all the world as father and son. If Sephiroth were not privy to the truth, he would have believed it to be so, so great was the resemblance between the two. He could see clearly how much Angeal loved the man he believed to be his father, and he thought that he might finally be beginning to understand why losing that illusion had damaged his friend so thoroughly.
He remembered his own disgust when he had overheard two of Hojo's assistants discussing his parentage. He had been so certain that they were wrong, arrogant in his belief that he was so superior to Hojo that it couldn't possibly be true. He had been devastated when Hojo had confirmed his parentage, and then laughed at his disappointment. It had been one of the worst days of his life, and it had scarred him in ways he hadn't then comprehended.
He knew now that it had been a lie, one designed to glorify Hojo and diminish his own importance, but it had been a blow he had never truly recovered from. He had been stunned—and relieved—to discover that Vincent Valentine was his natural father. That Hojo had hated him enough to lie about something so elemental to his developing identity had only shown Sephiroth what a mistake he had made in allowing his guardian to live. Had he killed Hojo as he had so often longed to do, Nibelheim and everything that followed after could have been avoided.
Well, he had since corrected that mistake, Sephiroth thought with unconscious arrogance. Hojo was dead, and he could never again take advantage of anyone. There was some comfort to be found in that, minute though it might be.
His gaze moved passed more pictures of the Hewley family, only to pause as he came across a photograph of two small children. He found himself smiling as he picked it up, his eyes glued to the toddler with the cap of fiery red hair and the mischievous sky-blue eyes. Genesis, perhaps three years of age, certainly no more than that, smiling innocently as he stuffed a handful of what appeared to be dirt in his mouth. Angeal seemed to be dumping the same over his own head, and Sephiroth could only laugh as he set the photograph down. While he himself had never been allowed outside to "play" outside, he could only imagine how much his friends had enjoyed the freedom they had been allowed. To be raised in a normal environment, completely unaware of one's importance, was a very special thing indeed.
He heard the distinctive sound of his phone snapping closed and glanced into the other room. Gillian looked stunned as she resumed her seat, and Sephiroth couldn't blame her. Hollander had been completely honest with her, and the knowledge that her son possessed a potentially life-threatening illness had obviously hit her hard. He approached the table with slow steps, giving her time to compose herself, and to prepare for the discussion to follow.
Sephiroth resumed his own seat in silence, reaching for his phone and tucking it away, before clasping his hands on the table before him. "You understand now why I approached you?" he asked in a quiet voice.
Gillian turned dazed blue-gray eyes on him. "The Jenova cells are degrading?" she asked in a faint voice.
"In Genesis, I believe that they may be," he replied carefully.
"And-and Angeal?"
Sephiroth only shook his head negatively. "Angeal has shown no sign of degradation, nor do I expect him to. Genetically, he is the stronger of the two," he added simply.
She released a deep, unsteady breath as she closed her eyes. "Thank the Gods," she whispered with relief.
He felt a pang of anger and hastily suppressed it, knowing that it was only natural that the greater part of her concern be for the child she had given birth to. She hadn't dismissed Genesis, not by any means, she was simply worried about her son. "I need your help, Mrs. Hewley."
Gillian opened her eyes and gazed guiltily at the ethereal, silver-haired man that Hojo had spent a lifetime manipulating. "We never meant to hurt any of you," she said in a low voice. "We were young ourselves, and too ambitious for our own good. I know that it doesn't excuse what we did, but we really did start Project 'G' with the best of intentions."
Sephiroth only gazed at her unblinkingly. "That no longer matters, Mrs. Hewley. It is in the past. The future is what we must concerns ourselves with, now."
She stared at him for a long moment before nodding her head slowly. "Yes, of course it is," she murmured, her voice steadily gaining strength as she added, "Tell me what I can do to help you, Sephiroth?"
As Sephiroth outlined his plans to use his own cells to create a definitive treatment for the degradation process, he was filled with an immense sense of relief. As he and Angeal's mother discussed the best possible methods for extracting his cells, he knew that he had made the right decision. Angeal would never discover that Hollander was his biological father, and he would never have his sense of self wrenched from him as he had once before. Genesis would be tested as soon as they had settled in Wutai—Hollander had apparently offered to come to them when the time was right—and he would be cured of the affliction that had once destroyed him.
It was all coming together, Sephiroth thought with satisfaction. This time, he would not fail. This time, he would save them all.

Vincent made his way through the Rhapsodos household on swift, silent feet, grimacing slightly at the bright sunlight that poured in through nearly every window he passed. While he wasn't a vampire—despite Cid's many comments to the contrary—he truly preferred to hide himself in the shadows. It made him less noticeable, less likely to be bothered by others, and tended to forestall the questions that his unusual appearance inevitably attracted.
Nearly every one of the household staff had cornered him at one time or another these last three days, each curious about everything from his tattered cloak to his scarlet eyes, and Vincent had had enough. He didn't know where these people were getting their courage from, but short of hiding in his room—or simply shooting them all-he truly didn't have any other avenue of escape. And, if he was to 'woo' Yazoo, as Chaos had so mockingly put it, he could not hide away in his room like the antisocial creature that he truly was.
He had no other choice, he told himself with resignation. He was going to have to risk social contact if he wanted to fix the mess he had made of his life.
Vincent sighed to himself as he made his way to the first-floor. Ever since he had made his decision to court Yazoo, the boy had been unusually inaccessible. Vincent had seen him only briefly the night before, when he entered Aerith's mind to assure that Jenova's attack had left no permanent damage. After Cloud's rather dramatic exit with Kadaj, Yazoo had simply disappeared. He had slipped back into the house surreptitiously; his stealth such that not even Chaos had realized that he was gone until it was too late. The demon had done his best to persuade Vincent to go to him, to go to his room and claim him that way that they all wanted to, but Vincent had known better. Yazoo was a proud young man, and it would take time for Vincent to convince him that he was sincere in his interest, and that he would not hurt him again.
Which was why he was seeking him out today, Vincent reminded himself. Yazoo had taken to hiding in the library when not with his brothers or Reno, reading for hours on end, seemingly enjoying the solitude. Vincent was coming to realize that, much like he himself, Yazoo didn't not enjoy being around large groups of people. He preferred to spend his time in quiet contemplation, which had come as something of a surprise to him, considering how symbiotic his pretty one's relationship with his brothers actually was.
When he had first met Yazoo, he had been alone, but only because both his brothers had gone into Bone Village for supplies. After watching the remnants for nearly a week-all so similar to Sephiroth in appearance that Vincent had known that nothing good could come from their existence-he had finally made the decision to approach the calmest one, the one he hoped would be most reasonable. The pretty one.
That had been the start of everything.
The slim, almost willowy young man was seated before a small campfire, a large rag spread out on the ground before him. Vincent watched from the shadows as the silver-haired sylph produced a bottle of gun oil and meticulously disassembled his weapon. He began to clean it, humming quietly to himself all the while, the very picture of youthful innocence.
Vincent knew better of course. This boy and his brothers were trouble, undoubtedly carriers of The Calamity's mometic legacy, perhaps created in one of Hojo's secret laboratories, or the children of one of the many Sephiroth clones who had been killed by their master during Meteorfall.
He shook his head at that superfluous thought. The boy's origins were not important. Discovering why they were here, and what they intended to do, was what truly mattered. Vincent knew from scattered snatches of overheard conversation that the boys were searching for their mother and older brother, Nii-san. They never called their mother by her name, but one look into this one's exotically tilted emerald eyes was enough to tell him exactly who their "mother" probably was.
The young man's head came up slowly, his expression revealing nothing more than mild curiosity, as that disturbing green gaze zeroed in on his position with unerring accuracy. "Come out of the shadows, dark one," he called out, his melodic voice betraying neither fear nor alarm, as he added, "Although they suit you, I very much doubt that they will assist us in conversation. Or are you afraid?"
". . ." Vincent stepped out of the darkened overhang he had been using for concealment and approached the boy with slow, cautious steps, astonished by the beautiful young man's apparent lack of concern. "While I fear a great many things in this world, you are not one of them."
"Mmmm, is that so?" The pretty one smiled again, a speculative look entering those haunting, painfully familiar green eyes. "You are either very foolish, or very brave, dark one. Which is it?"
"Neither," Vincent answered flatly, unwilling to play the boy's childish games. "Who are you?"
An enigmatic, sphinx-like curved sensuous bow lips as the young man slowly—gracefully—rose to his feet. "I am no one," he answered, slowly peeling the gloves from his hands as he took a fluid step forward. "And who are you, dark one? Why have you watched us for so long without revealing yourself?"
Vincent didn't—couldn't—answer as the ethereally beautiful man made his way towards him. Perfectly, inhumanly graceful, the young man glided over the silvered roots and grass of the Sleeping Forest on nimble felt. Vincent dropped one hand to the butt of his gun, the gesture a warning that wasn't missed by the mysterious silver siren who came to a graceful halt before him.
"Are you sure that you don't fear me?" The pretty young man reached down and covered Vincent's hand with his own, curving it over the butt of Cerberus, his thumb sweeping sensually over the smooth black leather of Vincent's glove. "I think that, perhaps, you do."
Vincent froze, unable to move, unable to breathe, as the pretty one brought his free hand up to his face. The young man smoothed his palm over Vincent's cheek, and he shuddered as his body roared to full, painful life. "You are very handsome, dark one. I like that in my lovers."
A slender hand delved into his hair, nimble fingers combing through the dark strands, and Vincent's eyelids fluttered as he fought the urge to close his eyes and surrender. "Such lovely hair," the pretty one continued, gathering the ebony mass at the back of his skull and tightening his hand.
Vincent gasped, both in shock and excitement, his gauntleted hand moving unthinkingly to grasp the siren's hip, even as his lips parted to protest the dominant action. "Shhh, dark one. I will not harm you." The young man set his hand on the back of Vincent's neck and splayed his fingers possessively. "Shall we see what else you have that will please me?"
He tilted his head back slightly to meet the young man's gaze, trembling as those exotic, heavy-lidded eyes slid into his own. "What are you doing to me?" he asked, his voice little more than a bewildered whisper, as that tautly muscled body brushed teasingly against his own.
A low, wholly seductive laugh sounded as the pretty one pressed more firmly against him. "Why, I'm seducing you, of course." The silver-haired siren leaned closer, until their lips were a mere breath apart. "I am glad that you finally decided to approach me, dark one. I have thought of little else since I first saw your eyes glowing from the darkness."
"Give yourself to me," the silver-eyed angel whispered huskily. "I promise you will not regret it. I will take you to the very edge of Heaven itself."
Silken lips had nudged his own once, twice, and Vincent groaned as he inexplicably found himself yielding. "Show me," he rasped, winding his arms around the slender young man and slanting his mouth over soft, heated pink lips.
Vincent was jolted back to reality by the sound of human voices. He blinked and looked around him, blushing as he realized that he was standing just outside of the open library doors, and that his memories had produced a very real physical response. He shifted uncomfortably and took a silent step into the room, pausing to simply gaze at the cause of his current discomfort.
Yazoo was seated on one of the settees, his bootless feet propped up on the very expensive table, yet another book held in his gloved right hand. The Cry Of The Planet,by L.H. Bugenhagen. Vincent smiled to himself as he leaned back against the doorframe and crossed his arms, watching as Yazoo reached across open book to turn the page, an absorbed expression shaping his fine features. Wouldn't his pretty one be surprised to discover that Vincent had met Bugenhagen on several occasions, and that the wily old man was not the stodgy professor that the other man was probably imagining?
"Are you going to stand in that doorway all day?" Yazoo never looked his way as he casually turned another page. "You can come in, Vincent. I promise you, I don't bite."
Vincent grunted dismissively at that, even as the memory of sharp white teeth on his heated flesh flashed through his mind. He pushed away from the doorframe and stepped into the room, ignoring the vacant seats between them as he made his way to the sofa that the young man occupied. He sat gingerly beside him, his eyes locked on the silver gunman's deceptively delicate profile. Yazoo turned his head slightly but checked the motion at the last moment, his glowing green eyes never meeting Vincent's own as he closed the book and set it on his lap.
"What can I do for you, Vincent?" he asked in a casual voice.
Vincent didn't answer right away, silently working up the courage for the apology that he wasn't sure how to make. "You're interested in The Planet?" he asked at length, wincing inwardly even as he gestured towards the book.
An elegant lift of those broad, yet slender shoulders was all the answer he received, and he cursed silently at his own cowardice. "Are you looking answers, or ways to defeat Gaia?"
Yazoo slanted him a sidelong glance, though he never met Vincent's gaze. "Understanding one's enemy can provide insight into one's self," he countered at last. He smoothed a hand over the book, one gloved fingertip tracing the title, which was gilded and raised. "Professor Bugenhagen has a rather unique theory on The Planet and its motives, and it makes for interesting reading, if nothing else."
"His theories are valid," Vincent said, the smile coming back to curve his lips. "He knows more about Gaia than anyone alive, except maybe for Aerith."
The silver-haired remnant half-turned towards him, his pure, angelic features left in profile, as he once again left the motion unfinished. "You've met him, then?"
"Yes," Vincent answered wryly, "he was a very. . .unusual man."
One silver brow crept upwards at that. "Indeed?"
"He was knowledgeable, but also quite irreverent." He shook his head as he pictured the older, balding man who had floated around them on a ball of magical energy, and his smile widened. "He was not what I had expected."
"Hhhmmm." Yazoo angled his face towards Vincent, but only slightly. "Do you think he could help us?"
"I honestly don't know." Vincent echoed his shrug as he gazed at that nearly perfect profile. "Given Gaia's current level of anger, there may be nothing he can do. He's not an Ancient, he is simply more in tune with The Planet than most humans."
"Ah." Yazoo relaxed his tense stance as he gazed down at the book once again. "He lives in Cosmo Canyon, yes?"
"Yes."
The young man contemplated that for a long moment. "Would we be welcome there?" he said at last.
Vincent thought of Nanaki's parting words to Cloud, and sighed heavily. "That, I don't know," he answered with regret. "I don't believe that Bugenhagen would turn us away, but getting to him with Sephiroth in the party. . .that might be a difficult task all on its own."
"Of course." There was no anger, no bitterness in that rich, melodic, wholly beloved voice, only a resignation that shocked him. "We are monsters, after all."
". . ." Vincent looked away guiltily, remembering a time when he had believed the same. "You are not a monster, Yazoo."
"Of course, I am." Yazoo turned his head without lifting it, a small, amused smile shaping his bow lips. "I have known it all my life. It is something that I long ago came to terms with, Vincent. You needn't look so horrified."
Vincent only shook his head in silent denial of the boy's words. "You are no more a monster than Sephiroth is," he stated in a too-quiet voice.
"Monster, puppet. . ." Yazoo shrugged elegantly. "They are much the same thing."
Vincent tapped one golden claw against his knee as he fought an almost overpowering urge to reach for him, to show his pretty one without words just how human he truly was. Instead, he offered a piece of himself that he could only pray would be accepted. "I owe you an apology, Yazoo."
The corner of Yazoo's lips curved slightly, mockingly, at that. "For what?" he questioned lightly.
Vincent sighed soundlessly. "For everything."
Exotically tilted eyes gleamed like pale malachite through half-closed lids. "I had hoped we were finished with this dance, Vincent. I, for one, am weary of it. Aren't you?"
"Yes." Vincent looked down at his hands, which rested incongruously on his lap, and very slowly reached for his gauntlet. He pressed the hidden trigger, and a seam appeared along the inside of its golden length. He pulled it from his arm and leaned forward to lay it on the table before him. "Yes, I am. . .weary."
Yazoo flashed a quick, surprised glance at his face before looking away once more, focusing on the shining golden claw. "Then, why are you here?" he asked in a carefully toneless voice.
Vincent reached out and set a hand over his own. "Because I am weary of fighting what I feel for you."
Yazoo drew a quick, shocked breath and attempted to jerk his hand away, only to have Vincent's tighten just enough to hold him in place. "This is not necessary," he said, his smooth voice faltering for the first time. "I have given you what you wanted. I have stayed away. Why are you letting them push you into something you do not want?"
Them, meaning his demons, Vincent realized as he shook his head. "It is not only my. . .demons who want you, Yazoo."
"Then, why - " Yazoo broke off abruptly, shaking his head so quickly that silky gossamer strands whipped around his face. "No, I don't want to know. Just-just let me go, Vincent."
"No."
He closed his eyes, his hands fisting as he fought to control his rioting emotions. "Then, what Sephiroth says is true?" he asked at last, his voice little more than a thready whisper. "You are leery of what you feel for me?"
"Leery," Vincent repeated, only to smile self-deprecatingly. "That is as good a description as any."
Yazoo gazed at their joined hands, both clad in thick black leather, and let out a slow breath. "You. . .fear me, then?"
"I. . ." Vincent swallowed hard and gripped Yazoo's hand tighter, "I fear what you make me feel, yes."
The young remnant turned to face him for the first time, and Vincent was struck by the hope which shone from those brilliant, pale eyes. "You fear your feelings because of what happened with her?"
Lucrecia.Vincent nodded slowly, his blood-red gaze never leaving Yazoo's own. "Loving Lucrecia cost me my life. I didn't want loving you to cost you yours. I was trying to protect us both."
"And now?" Pale emerald eyes searched his own as Yazoo gathered his courage and lifted one gloved hand to that pale, beloved face. "Do you still feel the need to protect yourself from me?"
Again, that heartbreaking hope showed in the depths of those haunting eyes, and Vincent's smile became genuine as he felt it for the first time. "No, pretty one, I am in no need of protection. All I need is you."
Yazoo continued to gaze at him, his expression wondrous, as his free hand came up to slide into Vincent's wild tumble of raven hair. "Dark one?" he questioned on a breathless note.
Vincent heard the question in that simple endearment and gathered him close. "Yes, pretty one," he murmured in answer, "I am here."
Yazoo put his arms around the dark gunner and let himself be held, afraid to say anything more for fear of ruining the moment. Vincent's fear wasn't gone, not by any means. Yazoo could see for himself just how hard approaching him had been for the stoic gunman, and he didn't want to do anything that would cause his dark one to retreat from him again. That Vincent was here, holding him as though he would never let him go, was enough for Yazoo. The rest would come in its own time.
"Dark one. . .thank you."
"Pretty one," Vincent returned with a hint of whimsy, "thank you."
Yes, Yazoo thought with a smile of his own, it was enough.

Genesis sat on the low wooden fence, a Banora White in his hand as he watched Angeal's puppy spar with his "apprentice". Zack was using the sword that Vincent had found in the Cetra shrine the day before, swinging the massive blade around as he parried Cloud's surprisingly aggressive blows. The aptly named Crystal Sword gleamed brightly under the hot afternoon sun, catching the sun's light and reflecting it brilliantly, bathing the two young men in a literal rainbow of color. Zack was grinning like a madman as he parried a particularly hard blow, and Cloud returned it with a recklessness that seemed wholly out of character as he adjusted his stance and struck again.
Genesis was struck by the boy's form, which eerily resembled Zack's own unique fighting style. Much like Zack, Cloud threw himself totally into the mock battle, strategy taking second place to passion for the actual swordplay itself. Unlike Sephiroth or Genesis himself, neither boy was inclined to use time-proven battle tactics when pure brawn could settle the matter. Angeal had done his best to break Zack of his attack-first, think-later impulses, but to little avail. Zack was an impulsive man, and he probably always would be.
No, it was Cloud's tendency to do the same that surprised Genesis. Cloud's personality was more like Sephiroth's or Angeal's; he was quiet and observant, the wheels of his mind always turning. He was a thinker, which made his rather rash fighting technique a puzzle, as it clashed with everything else that made him him.
Maybe, it had something to do with whatever Hojo had done to him, Genesis thought as he watched the younger man grab a second, smaller blade from his weapons harness and bring it into play. He had obviously been enhanced, something Genesis would have seen earlier, had he ever taken the time to observe the puppy's apprentice properly. His skill was such that it was on par with Zack's own, and Genesis concluded that that was probably what had drawn Sephiroth's interest to him. No one that young—or that damned small—could pull off the moves Cloud was using without mako treatments.
Genesis felt a pang of rage for Professor Hojo and took a deep breath to steady his volatile emotions. Hojo was dead, and the damage had already been done. Cloud had obviously come to terms with what had been done to him in the name of science. Genesis only wished that Sephiroth had, as well.
It pissed Genesis off to know that Sephiroth still thought of himself as a monster. After everything he'd been through—being tortured in Hojo's lab all of his life, his three horrific tours in Wutai—he still didn't understand that no human being was perfect. Hojo had been a crazy, sadistic bastard, and even knowing that, Sephiroth still sought the perfection that had always been demanded of him, which bothered Genesis to no end.
Genesis liked that Sephiroth wasn't perfect. He liked knowing that Sephiroth didn't always know what to say, or that he often found himself confused by the world around him. It meant that he was a living, breathing person, not the emotionless robot that Hojo had done his best to turn him into. Sephiroth might be different, but what he didn't realize was that, if not for those differences, Genesis might never have noticed him.
Sephiroth had always been beautiful, but it was his uniqueness that had brought him to Genesis' notice. Physical beauty aside, Sephiroth was a complex man. He felt things more deeply than most, which was a direct contrast to the emotionless façade he had always tried to present to the world. Genesis had seen the cracks in that façade, and he had been intrigued by them. When he'd finally gotten close enough to see past the mask, he had been shocked to discover how insecure Sephiroth truly was. The strong, infallible warrior had been a frightened, confused young man, and Genesis had surprised himself by wanting to help the friend he'd always lusted after.
He thought of the nights he'd spent comforting Sephiroth after that first Wutaian tour and smiled ruefully. As much as he'd hated seeing Sephiroth like that, he had enjoyed spending time with him, seeing the parts of his friend that had always been hidden from him before, and getting to know the younger man in a whole new way.
He had discovered that Sephiroth had a fondness for the color blue, even though he owned almost nothing in the color, and that he liked cats, of all things. He'd found an encyclopedia on the subject hidden away in Sephiroth's closet, its well-worn condition indicating that it was used often. Sephiroth had been embarrassed to be caught with the book, until Genesis had sat down with him and began to comment on the different breeds he found on the earmarked pages.
Sephiroth's fascination had been charming, and it had shown a human side of him that had fascinated Genesis.He'd discovered that Sephiroth had never been allowed a pet—which was really no surprise, considering exactly who had raised him—and that he had always wanted one. Genesis had actually considered getting him a kitten, until Sephiroth had casually mentioned how badly animals reacted to those who had been enhanced with mako. That had nipped his half-formed plans in the bud, but Genesis had never forgotten.
Maybe, in Wutai, things could be different, Genesis mused thoughtfully. Most animals were instinctively wary around SOLDIERs, but that could be worked around with careful handling and the proper training. Once they'd found a place to live and settled down, there was no reason that Sephiroth couldn't have a cat, if he still wanted one.
Genesis smiled to himself at the mental image of Sephiroth—tall, strong, and always intimidating—holding a tiny ball of fur with a terrified expression. Of course, he'd be there to help his lover through it, so it wouldn't be too traumatizing for the other man.
Yes, he thought excitedly, that's exactly what he'd do. Once they'd settled into their new home, he would surprise Seph with a kitten—a red-furred, blue-eyed kitten—and he'd teach the other man how to care for it. He couldn't think of a better gift for the man who had given him such a wonderful new life.
"A gil for your thoughts."
Genesis only shook his head, his smile taking on a secretive cast, as Aerith climbed up onto the fence beside him. "Sorry, my dear, but my secrets are my own," he proclaimed, laying one hand over his heart dramatically, and then ruined the moment by tossing the apple her way.
Aerith gave a startled laugh as she caught the apple in both hands. "I wasn't expecting that," she admitted humorously. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"
"I'd like to think so." Genesis tilted his head to one side and flashed her a charming smile. "Now that I've softened you up, how about answering a few questions I have about the Cetra?"
She laughed again and bit into the apple. "Ask away, Genesis. I'll tell what I can."
"Thank you, my dear." The smile faded slowly as Genesis looked away, his gaze straying to show before him, even as the events of the previous night played through his mind. "Are all Ancients telepathic?"
If she was surprised by the suddenness of the question, it didn't show as Aerith shook her head negatively. "We're. . .in tune with The Planet, I guess, but we're not telepathic."
Genesis only nodded, his fiery hair sliding into his face with the motion. "Jenova's different, then?" he asked, cringing at the word that Sephiroth always used to describe himself.
Aerith sighed and concentrated on giving an explanation that wouldn't reveal Jenova's true origins. "I was only seven when my mother died, but I'll tell you what I remember," she said at length. "Jenova was a strong Cetra, one of the strongest healers we—they—had. A sickness swept through the community, a mental. . .degradation, I guess you call it. As the people began to go mad, the elders were forced to fight their own kind to protect the populace. Jenova was one of the few who was strong enough to fight the madness, but eventually, even she succumbed."
"That makes sense," he murmured, half to himself, as he thought of all the boys had told him about Jenova. "Did she have children?"
"I'm not sure," Aerith answered apologetically, and she really wasn't. She didn't remember hearing that from her own mother, but she had been young, and she didn't remember everything. Boy, mixing the truth with lies was hard work!
"It's possible," she said with a shrug. "It would explain why she's latched onto Sephiroth and our angels the way that she has."
Genesis let out a harsh breath and shifted on his uncomfortable wooden perch. "Is there any way to stop her?" he asked quietly. "I don't ever want to see Sephiroth the way that he was last night. He was completely fucking helpless, and I did not like it."
Aerith only gazed at him sympathetically. "All you can do is be there for him, Genesis. He'll need his friends and family to support him if he's going to defeat her."
"Godsdammitt!" he muttered under his breath. "There has to be something that we can do help him. We can't just leave him to fight her alone!"
"But he's not alone," Aerith reminded him softly. "He has the boys."
And that was the crux of the problem, Genesis thought angrily. He flashed a glance at Kadaj and Loz, who were sitting under a tree and audibly critiquing the two fighters, and shuddered. "The boys are just as vulnerable as she is," he snapped unintentionally. "There has to be something that we—that I—can do to help him through this. I can't just stand aside and watch this bitch rip through his mind whenever the hell she wants to!"
Aerith drew a deep breath and set her free hand on his arm. "Be there for him," she advised in a gentle, solemn voice. "Stay with him and help him through this. He truly does need you, Genesis."
"Fuck," Genesis murmured, the anger draining out of him as quickly as it had come. "Of course, I'll stay with him. He's mine, damn it. I refuse to share him with anyone, least of all some undead Cetra bitch with delusions of motherhood!"
She giggled at that, the seriousness of the mood disappearing with that heated declaration. "You're so passionate," she said with another laugh. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Genesis."
"Of course," he said with a mock sniff of disdain. "Everyone loves me, after all."
Aerith only grinned and took another bite of her apple, relived to have the short but intense conversation over with. "So, is there any chance you'll help me out with Angeal and Zack?" she asked studied casualness.
This time, it was Genesis who laughed as he sent her an amused look. "You seem to be doing just fine all on your own, my dear."
She sighed and cast a glance at the men in question. Zack was still happily sparring away with Cloud, while Angeal watched with a proud smile from the sidelines. "He's stubborn," she commented with a shrug. "He thinks I'm too young for him."
"He thought that Zack was too young for him," Genesis pointed out wryly. "Look how well that turned out?"
"True." Her gamine features brightened at the realization. "So, do I have your blessing?"
Genesis returned her smile wickedly. "My dear, I will give you more than my blessing, so long as you make 'geal happy."
"Ooh, a co-conspirator," she said in hushed whisper. "I've always wanted one of those."
He laughed again and leaned towards her. "Aerith, you're a woman after my own heart."
"Why, thank you, General."

Sephiroth let himself out of the Hewley home with a lightness of heart he hadn't felt in weeks. Mrs. Hewley had agreed to help, even going so far as to offer her services as a scientist, to help him find a cure. She was going to work with himself and Hollander as they strove to isolate and conquer the inert Mitochondrial cells that Hollander now believed to be the source of the genetic abnormality, and they would replace them with Sephiroth's own. While he himself was not a female, the greater part of his cellular structure was.As it had been inherited from Jenova, an organism whose cells were undeniably dominant, Hollander shared Sephiroth's believe that his active cells were the answer.
Soon, it would all be set right, he promised himself. They would be safely ensconced in Wutai, and Genesis would begin treatment. There would be a potential cure for Angeal as a result—should he ever need it—and his friends would be spared the madness that had once overwhelmed them both.
Life was. . .good.
"Yo."
Or not, Sephiroth thought with a touch of humor. Reno pushed away from the wall of a nearby house, strutting as much as his ruined knee would allow, and Sephiroth sighed deeply. "What can I do for you, Reno?" he asked in lieu of greeting.
"Now, that's a loaded question, yo." Sephiroth slanted him a warning glance, and Reno merely grinned as he fell into step beside him. "I talked to Tseng last night, yo. He said that he'd talk to Boss Man about Rosso, and. . .you were right about Elfe, yo. She's dead, along with Shears and Fuhito. Tseng said they were slaughtered."
Sephiroth looked away, saddened by the loss of life, and Reno only shrugged. "On the upside, he said he'd help us out, come Nibelheim."
Two gleaming green eyes slid his way, and Reno explained, "I told him you wouldn't like it, yo, but he insisted. He's gonna send a team in to help evacuate Nibelheim, just in case Mommy Dearest decides to go ballistic."
"Ah." Sephiroth didn't comment on the rather unusual moniker that the young Turk had given Jenova, nor on the fact that he had never spoken of his plans to enter Nibelheim. Apparently, it was expected of him. Given his history, that wasn't entirely unexpected, he supposed.
And, he had to admit that he was relieved to have the subject of Elfe's death dropped. She had been a fine warrior, and she hadn't deserved such a fate, but there was nothing he could do for her now, save avenge her if the opportunity presented itself.
"Strife's mother should be their first priority," he said abruptly, returning to the subject at hand. "She is ill, and therefore cannot be expected to be reasonable. They are to take whatever measures necessary to assure her removal, but she must not be harmed in any way. They Mayor's daughter must be kept safe as well."
"You don't have to worry about Tifa, yo. Rude will make sure she makes it out. I'll call Tseng and tell him about Cloud's mom, though." Reno hesitated, surprised that Sephiroth had given way so easily. "Tseng said that he was going to talk to Rufus about Rosso, too."
Sephiroth shrugged at that. "That matters not. I will kill her should we ever cross paths again. For any reason," he added grimly.
"I understand, yo," Reno said quickly, knowing that the Tsviet had signed her own death warrant the moment she'd gone after Genesis. He gazed up at the taller man and sighed dramatically, hoping to lighten the intensity that had settled over those angelically gorgeous features. "You're so fucking dominant, yo. I knew there was a reason I chased you for so freakin' long."
The other man made an exasperated sound that suspiciously resembled a snort—a very elegant snort. "You are a glutton for punishment, Turk."
Reno grinned again, this time wickedly. "Maybe I just like walls, yo." He lifted one hand to Sephiroth's hair, only to jerk it back when narrowed green eyes swung to his own. "You can't blame a guy for trying, yo."
Sephiroth was surprised by how hard it was not to smile at Reno's antics. As ridiculous a notion as it might seem, he believed that he was becoming fond of the irritating little Turk. Of course, Reno need never know that. "Do not let Genesis catch you attempting to molest me," he warned the other man mildly. "I don't believe he would like it."
Reno echoed his snort at that. "I'm not afraid of your boyfriend, babe."
"Underestimate Genesis to your own detriment, Turk," Sephiroth returned with a graceful, adding, "And do not call me 'babe'. I do not like it."
"But you're hot, yo."
Sephiroth only sighed and shook his head, taking refuge behind the overlong mass and smiling to himself. Reno might not bat his eyelashes, but Sephiroth had never had any problems recognizing his wholly unsubtle brand of flirtation. "And how are things progressing between you and Yazoo?" he asked pointedly.
Much to his surprise, Reno's thin features took on a sulky cast at the question. "He's getting back together with Valentine," the younger man muttered as he thrust his hands into his trouser pockets.
Sephiroth knew his surprise showed as he looked down at him. "Truly?'
Reno only nodded his red head, his thin lips pursed in a pout. "I caught them makin' out in the library this morning, yo. Killed a lot of my dreams, let me tell you."
"I can only imagine," he returned drolly. Reno shot him a dark look, and Sephiroth finally let his smile surface. "Surely, you were expecting this, Reno? They love one another, after all."
Reno immediately forgot what he was going to say as that wide, happy smile transformed Sephiroth's normally cold features. "Damn, you're even hotter when you smile like that! I really need to thank Genesis, yo!"
The smile was instantly replaced with a scowl, and Reno laid a hand over his heart as he sighed dramatically. "That's more like the Sephiroth I know and lust after. Welcome back, General Hotness."
"Hmph." Sephiroth looked away, grateful to see Genesis himself standing a few feet away, his demeanor unusually mischievous as he spoke to Aerith. He wondered briefly what kind of trouble they were cooking up between them, and he could only hope that he would not be made a part of it.
Genesis looked up as he approached, his aristocratic features lighting up as though from within, and Sephiroth felt his annoyance vanish. He returned the other man's smile and quickened his pace, eager to bask in that unexpected warmth. Genesis jumped off of the fence and strode towards him, all animalistic grace and incongruous elegance, and Sephiroth couldn't help but reach for him.
"Hello, kitten," he murmured in greeting.
Genesis plunged his hands into his lover's silky fall of silver hair and pressed against him unashamedly. "Hello, moonbeam," he returned in kind. "Did you miss me?"
"Very much so," Sephiroth told him as he lowered his lips for a long, lingering kiss.
"That's it!" Reno declared disgruntledly, throwing his hands up and ambling away. "I'm outta here, yo!"
Genesis only grinned into the kiss. "I think we upset him, Seph."
"He'll live," Sephiroth returned dryly. He brushed his lips over Genesis' one last time before reluctantly raising his head. "How is Zack adjusting to his new sword?"
Genesis pouted for a moment before pulling away. "He's doing well with it," he answered, shrugging as he snagged Sephiroth's hand in his own. "He and Cloud are pretty evenly matched, though."
"Mmmm." Sephiroth squeezed his hand once as they approached the makeshift practice field, not at all surprised. Even had he not "fought" Cloud Strife on several occasions, he knew that Cloud carried a piece of Zack's consciousness within his mind. His style would invariably be similar as a result. "I am glad that he has a proper weapon again, in light of recent events."
The other man only nodded his understanding. "Don't worry, Seph, he's armed, and he's been warned. He's a First. He'll be able to handle anything Rufus sends our way."
"I hope so." Sephiroth smiled tightly as he added, "Reno says that Rufus has agreed to recall Rosso. We can only hope that she obeys him."
Genesis snorted his opinion of that. "She had better hope that she obeys him, or I'm going to kick her trashy little ass the next time I see her!"
Sephiroth chuckled and pulled him closer. "Do not worry, kitten. I have eyes only for you," he said humorously.
"Good thing, too," Genesis returned with a toss of his fiery head, "or I'd kick your ass to hell and back."
Sephiroth lowered his head and placed his lips directly beside his lover's ear. "I can think of better things for you to do to my ass, Genesis."
A shiver ran through the length of Genesis' body at the heated murmur. "I'll hold you to that, you know," he warned his lover, who only smiled and straightened, a small smirk playing on his bow lips. "Once can only hope, Genesis."
Genesis laughed and slipped an arm around his waist, hugging him close as they drew closer to the others. "My room, then?" he asked pointedly.
Sephiroth nodded and slid an arm around his shoulders. "Your room," he confirmed, adding, "Shall I wear the boots?"
"Ugh!" Kadaj looked disgusted as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at them from beneath the shade of a Banora White. "We can hear you, you know! Stop talking about sex!"
Genesis only laughed and shook his head fondly as Loz grinned but kept his mouth shut. "Give it a rest, angel. You're embarrassing your father."
Sephiroth only sighed and buried his burning face in his free hand. Sometimes, having a family was quite the trial.
- 46
- 47
- 48
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Final Fantasy VII: Angelic Threnody