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Eclipse	By : SkyFire Category: Final Fantasy VII > General Views: 778 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Eclipse (working title)

Author: SkyFire (rabid_plotbunny on InsaneJournal & LJ)
Rating: R

Pairing(s): OCs/Sephiroth, possible other pairings later on

Summary: What if the Nibelheim Incident didn't end the way everyone thought it did?

Warnings: DarkFic. Abuse, rape, the works. WIP.

Notes: So, a new WIP; tossing it out here before posting it to my journal to see if it will hold water. Reviews are absolutely loved and squeed over, as is constructive criticism/suggestions. Pairings (such as they are) will come into play in later chapters; right now this is mostly just darkfic.
Disclaimer: I don't own FFVII. Rub it in, why don't you? :( Anyone you don't recognize does belong to me, though. (Anyone want to buy one nutso scientist-type and a bunch of pissed-off villagers, cheap? ;P)

Eclipse

by SkyFire
He hit bottom; felt the slap of burning green shock him back to his senses even as he sank into the stuff, clarity returning like an icy slap even as pain began to scream at him from every nerve. It burned; liquid fire pouring into his body via the open wound through his torso, surging down his throat as he opened his mouth to give voice to the pain.
Zack... Cloud... the village... What had he done?
He reached out with one hand, fingers slightly curled, trying to claw his way back up to the surface. It was like swimming in mud; little progress despite the effort expended. Lifting his other hand brought his attention back to the object he was holding. A severed head. Her head. Jenova, the monstrosity that had lured him into that dark madness. He let it go and it fell away, lost from sight almost immediately.
In the cold, burning green light of newly-restored sanity he wondered why he had given her whispers any credibility at all. How could he have possibly believed a word she'd said?
Oddly enough, the answer came forth from the depths of his memory, advice given him by some long-forgotten instructor. Both hopes and fears can make any lie seem like truth.
How foolish he had been.
Cold fire was everywhere, burning against his bare skin, his eyes, seeping into his clothes, his mouth and nose.
He choked, gagged, fought to expel the clinging fluid, but more took its place.
He couldn't breathe. Wouldn't breathe.
Had he plunged in that deeply during his fall? Was there no surface? Was he even struggling in the right direction?
He was nearly ready to give up; his body wracked with burning pain the likes of which he'd never experienced. Even at his worst in the lab after something had not gone his way and he was feeling particularly sadistic, Hojo had never given him pain like that.
Then his searching fingers touched metal and he latched on with all the strength he could muster. He brought his other hand up, taking a more solid grip on whatever it was he had found. A support, perhaps?
Not pausing to rest - what rest was there to take when every passing moment only increased the burning, made the ache and pain spread that much further - he began the task of pulling himself up along the support, the sheer effort needed to pull himself along assuring him that yes, that way was up.
When every moment seemed an eternity of unfriendly, burning green, he didn't know how much time had passed before he at last broke the surface of the reactor pool. He kept climbing, pulling himself up with limbs that shivered and trembled under the combined blows of Mako exposure and blood loss. He stopped only when he was clear of the stuff, ignoring for now the fumes that swirled around him like a playful, life-sucking fog.
He coughed convulsively, grimacing as Mako came up and was expelled. He tightened his grip on the support as much as he could and clung there like a leech, unable to climb any further. He rested his forehead against the metal, its Mako-worn surface surprisingly warm given the cold burn of the fluid below. Every inch of exposed skin felt raw, and he could feel his eyes swelling shut, blurring his vision until all he could see was a mass of swirling green light, even that fading as his eyes continued to puff up.
He was more than sick of that color.
He supposed it was only the Mako in his blood, the many Mako baths Hojo had inflicted on him during his time as the man's ward, that had let him survive the dip at all. Not that he would ever feel anything even vaguely like gratitude for the sadistic scientist. He was thoroughly convinced that a great many of the tests he had been put through, the pain he had suffered, had been for nothing but the man's own twisted amusement.
Not that any of that was helping him right then.
At least the voice in his head, her voice, the not-Mother's, Jenova's, was gone.
Now all he had to do was climb up the support beams until he reached the main level and... what? Somehow make it back to town, hope the fire hadn't spread to the inn, that the villagers would still welcome him, that they would tend to his injuries? Somehow he doubted that that was very likely. More likely, he'd stumble into town and be promptly chased back out by enraged survivors, if not attacked outright. In his condition, he knew that there wouldn't be much he could do to fend them off. Zack would laugh if he saw him, the great General Sephiroth, chased out of town by a group of villagers armed only with-
Zack. Sweet Shiva, Zack!
He looked upward, toward the main level where he had last seen the man after flicking him off the end of the Masamune like he would an inconvenient spray of blood, but his eyes were swollen completely shut now and he could see nothing at all. He remembered seeing him flying out the open door, remembered hearing the sound of him tumbling down the metal stairs with a series of pained grunts and gasps, then silence.
Gods, Zack! What have I done?
Another flash of memory; the tear-streaked face of the spiky-haired blond grunt, Zack's friend. Blue eyes, named somewhat to match. Cloud. Renewed pain in his midsection as he remembered how the small blond had managed to run him through with Zack's sword, Angeal's sword, and how he himself had returned the favor, only to find himself flung from the catwalk to fall to what he supposed was supposed to have been - should have been - his death.
Zack, Cloud, the villagers...
He reached up one hand, gripped a higher cross-piece, tried to pull himself upwards but was forced to stop as weakened limbs almost sent him right back into the reactor pool. Clearly, he was going nowhere until either he had healed enough to climb without dumping himself back down or someone came for him.
Right. Who would come? The mountains made communication to the outside iffy at best, and it had been out since before their arrival at the tiny village. He'd gotten the only other Shinra guard during his insane rampage through the town, and of his own party, there were only Zack and Cloud left. If they were still alive. Please, let them be alive!
Habit made him turn his face upward even as he tried calling. "Zack!"
He barely made a sound, grimaced as the effort felt like he had swallowed a mouthful of glass shards and they were tearing their way down his throat.
Zack? Cloud? Anyone?
TBC...?
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Eclipse