Cell Division | By : Savaial Category: Final Fantasy VII > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2025 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy. It belongs to SquareEnix. I do not make any money from these writings, nor do I wish to. The original creators have all my respect, from game designers to voice actors. |
We barely got cleaned and dressed before Michael’s knock. Hojo let him in quickly. “It isn’t pizza, is it?” he asked, grabbing the bags.
“Worse,” Michael admitted with a grin. “The cafeteria’s version of lasagna.” He sniffed the air and threw me a leer.
I felt so hungry I ignored him for the sake of taking food. Hojo and I ate like starving wolves, not bothering with even sitting down or using utensils.
“Work up an appetite, sir?” Michael asked, apparently not content with our lack of interest in his innuendo.
“Yes, Michael.” Hojo opened a milk container. “Thank you for doing our foraging. Now, piss off.”
“Sure.” Michael, grinning, strolled out.
“Impudent,” Hojo muttered before resuming his meal.
“You need a kitchen,” I told him. “I’m a very good cook, actually.”
Hojo’s eyes grew thoughtful. He didn’t say anything until he’d eaten all of his food and drank his milk. “I have a home,” he disclosed.
“Yes, I remember you used to leave,” I teased. I gathered our trash and binned it, flopping down on his couch feeling satiated.
Hojo smiled faintly. “I’ll take you to see it once I figure out how to keep my son from killing all of you the moment I leave.”
“He promised me he wouldn’t act to harm anyone for a week,” I told him.
Hojo paused over the ruins of his computer. “How did you get a vow out of Sephiroth? He never makes promises unless he intends to keep them, and I don’t think he’s of a mind to resist…playing.”
“I promised him a week of therapy in return.”
Hojo gave me a look of pure wonder, his eyes widening and his body going absolutely still. “This was agreeable to him? He hates being psychoanalyzed.”
“I told him I’d give him the same privacy I gave all my other patients; it seemed enough.”
Hojo sighed. “Of course,” he murmured, his voice low and sad. “The Shin-Ra psychiatrists reported all their findings to me and Shin-Ra. You will not do that, so, he feels safer.” He cracked the case on his tower and started to retrieve his hard drive. “Thank you, Victoria, for trying to help him.”
“I want to help both of you as well as keep us all alive,” I said, feeling my heart give a little squeeze.
Hojo smiled again. Abandoning his project, he came to me. I felt surprised as he just squatted down and looked into my eyes. For an eternity it seemed he looked into me. Then, without saying a word, he reached out and took my hand. His warm, strong fingers curled around mine. Slowly, they slid upward. I felt a tug, heard a click, and my bracelet fell off.
“I know your category,” he said, that sad smile touching his lips once more.
My heart resumed beating. Slowly, I bent and retrieved the symbol of my servitude. “You don’t want me anymore?” I asked. It hurt to imagine. No, it killed me to imagine. I couldn’t meet his dark eyes anymore. I twisted the bracelet around and around in my nervous hands.
A gentle touch brought my eyes back to his. “Of course I do, my dear,” he said softly. “I hope you won’t leave. But, I won’t stop you if you want to leave.”
I looked at him.
I didn’t want to go.
It surprised me that my victory came this way, without tears or wretchedness. Those black eyes revealed his true wish that I not leave him. I didn’t have to test my freedom, either, for I trusted him to never backslide.
Slowly, I put the bracelet back on. “Show me the override for the punishment protocol,” I said quietly.
Hojo’s stunned eyes widened. He pressed his fingertip into the scanner of the metal. “Victoria has override priority,” he said lowly.
I leaned forward and touched my lips to his gently. “It changes things,” I admitted. “But, it doesn’t ruin anything, either, Hojo.” I patted the couch. “Please, sit with me and just hold me while I think.”
He joined me. I fell into those long, strong arms, pressing my ear to his chest so I could hear his heart. It beat a frantic rhythm contradictory to his calm exterior.
“What’s my category?” I asked.
“Treasure,” he murmured.
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