CrabOfDoom (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crabofdoom) wrote2010-03-17 02:21 pm
crabofdoom) wrote2010-03-17 02:21 pm
Entry tags:
Welcome Home [11]
Title: Welcome Home
Fandom: FFVII (starts one year before AC:C)
Characters: Sephiroth, Reeve, Reno, Lazard, Aerith
Pairing(s): Sephiroth/Lazard
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warning: Emotional trauma, mentions of medical abuse
Word count: approx. 4,300
Summary: A chance find in the Shin-Ra manor throws Vincent into parenthood and Sephiroth into a world that went on without him.
A/N: Although I like staying within the realm of possibility, consider this an AU. Just one that closely mirrors the original. Also, I don't have a beta and I drop letters and whole words sometimes. I try to catch and fix them, but sorry about that in advance. Ratings may change between chapters.
Previously: [01]-[02]-[03]-[04]-[05]-[06]-[07]-[08]-[09]-[10]
---------
It wasn't looking to be quite the free day-pass Reno had been expecting.
From the moment he'd offered to be the one to 'investigate' Shin-Ra's volunteer in old Midgar, he'd figured it would entail most of a day spent keeping Sephiroth company, letting him feel a little less isolated, maybe even dragging the former SOLDIER down to some out of the way place in Edge for a drink.
Then Reeve returned from setting up the WRO's data collection station, and told the Turk in guarded, mumbled conversation that things hadn't gone as smoothly as everyone had planned. Vincent had been present and fortunately got to Sephiroth before any of Reeve's assistants saw too much. A sleep spell had to be used. Reeve's official statement to anyone who asked was an unexpected bout of post-traumatic stress. Reno could attest that it wasn't a lie. It was the 'isolated incident' part that he wasn't as sure of.
The Turk's timing was perfect, arriving above Sector Three just as the sky had darkened but before the night required any lights that might give him away. The helicopter landed in the widest patch of open pavement, two streets over from the library. Walking to the building was an unsettling experience of it own; Reno's footsteps along the concrete and debris sounded impossibly loud from the simple fact that there was no other noise to soften them. Even the sounds of traffic and activity from Edge didn't make it around the barrier of the tower. It should've been tranquil, he supposed, but when he knew what the plate used to be like, it was just damned eerie.
The library had no outside light on, but that was hardly surprising. Only perhaps a couple of small lights were on inside, just enough to see the suggestion of Reeve's equipment beside the building before the night fully took hold.
A long steel planting box that looked taken straight from a nursery sat in the empty street, a couple of yards away from the library and exposed to the elements. Another sat closer to the wall, open as well but covered from the rainfall to be tended manually. A small satellite dish had been mounted to the corner of the roof, pointed toward Junon. Behind it, on what Reno assumed from his vantage point was the far side of the roof, a military water tower was set up. He could see the top half of a big box installed between the supports, probably full of sensors and filters.
The large front door wasn't locked when Reno tested the handle. It opened quietly on oiled hinges. Patches of a thick vinyl sheeting, just transparent enough to allow sunlight in, covered broken windows and holes in the wall to keep the rain and Mako residue out. Metal racks of books were sorted and stuffed back to an order that was probably neater than the last time the library had been open to the public. The racks had been pushed a bit closer together, however, to make space for another long nursery bed and what Reno supposed was an air filter. Like the others outside, a dense black cable slithered out of the soil and ran along the wall toward the store room to tell the data banks whatever the WRO wanted to know.
The smooth, dark-tinted cement floor had been mopped, the library's wooden accents and librarian's counters wiped down, likely polished, windowsills and furniture dusted, and it appeared some nearby hotel had been looted for the couple of mattresses and vast amount of white pillows all piled up in the third floor mezzanine's turret room. Save for the bedding, the building looked damaged, but open for business. Impressive, when Reeve had only left five days before.
Something, however, was missing.
"Seph?" Reno called out, still taking in details as he listened for a response. "Hello, Seph...?"
"Oh, gods."
The sound was small, faint and just a little hoarse, and years of experience with watching his own back had Reno easily tracking it around to the front inside corner of the wooden counter.
On a low shelf that once held stacks of returned books was a haphazard cocoon of a king-sized beige hotel blanket with a pair of long calves wrapped in knee-high black leather boots sticking out of its front.
"Uh... am I allowed to ask what you're doing down there, big guy?" Reno asked.
"Rather you don't."
"So, I don't get to see your pretty face today, huh?"
"No. Not pretty, trus' me."
Reno pursed his lips a bit as he leaned over the counter's end and folded his arms. "This got anything to do with the little incident Reeve told me about?"
"Shit, he told you?"
"Only me, Seph," Reno reassured him. "And it's not like either of us are gonna blab it to the world and let them know you're here."
"What'd he say?"
"Just that you had a kind of panic attack, and had to sleep through the set-up in the chopper."
"Hmm."
"Why? What really happened?"
The hood of blanket reluctantly shook back from Sephiroth's face like a loose hood. His right eye was bloodshot and both were rimmed with the dark circles of lost rest.
"I screamed," Sephiroth confessed, "right before I threw up."
"Say again?"
A pale hand rose to Sephiroth's forehead and rubbed just below his widow's peak. The other twirled a finger in a circle with a tremble in the air. "One of them... one of them had a... had a... a d- dr-..."
A drill, Reno assumed, but if Sephiroth couldn't bring himself to say it, making the guess aloud didn't seem like a smart move.
"I saw the mater'a in Vissent's hand," Sephiroth continued, his voice hitching every few syllables as he tried not to sob in front of the Turk, "then knew I was asleep. The whole time... the whole time, I just saw him... coming at me with that thing... over and over..."
The details were lost on Reno, but the way Sephiroth clutched at his forehead with both hands as though covering a bleeding wound explained enough.
"You're okay now, Seph," the Turk attempted to comfort. "You woke up. It wasn't real. And it sure looks to me like you've been able to keep busy around here."
"For three days."
"For three days, what?"
"Vissent left the first day after," Sephiroth said. It might have been a wail, if his voice had felt stronger. "Said he'd be back, but I know better. Didn't say when, and even he's ashamed of what I am by now. I just... I didn't want to think about it - any of it - anymore. So, I went to fixing. I got the whole thing clean in three days. Fixed the books, put them all back. Checked the numbers t'ice. Put all the bent pages straight.
"Nothing to do. Nothing to do anymore, Reno. Just- just do what Reeve needs. Takes a' hour. Then wait for Vissent, but he's not coming back. Wait for Lazard, but he's not coming back. And he promised... Just waiting. Waiting for him to find me... To come through that door... What would I do, Reno? What would I do? I stay down here, hope to Shiva he can't find me..."
"Seph, maybe you should call Reeve; tell him-"
"TELL HIM WHAT?" The last of Sephiroth's pride screamed the words out before he could stop them. "Tell him a SOLDIER 1st Class is under a goddamn counter, hiding?! Tell him you both stuck your necks out for me, and five days in, I'm fucked?! 'Yeah, hi, Reeve, just want to say it's so fucking quiet here at night, I hear every fucking bird on the roof and it sounds like feet on the road outside and I fucking want to cry'... Goddamn it, what's wrong with me?!"
---
"This is a mistake."
There was no need to turn toward the voice when the essences strong enough to speak flowed freely around one another, but Aerith was new enough within the Lifestream to still be thinking in the terms of her corporeal form.
The same voice that had rarely formed a solid word when she'd first arrived now spoke more than any spirit she'd encountered. Usually, about the same matter. This time, however, his choice of words were different. There was a knowledge behind them, a certainty, and unfortunately, if anyone could spot a sure problem with the planet's endeavor, he would be the one.
"Care to elaborate?" she asked, feeling the tall blond collecting himself into a visible shape nearby.
"You told me that the last six years have been Sephiroth's atonement," Lazard said evenly.
"Yes...?"
"And that he's been prepared for service to the planet as his penance."
"Yes."
"No one else can do the things the planet wants of him and I know that, but to leave him to figure out what to do on his own is cruelty beyond his punishments. The only reason he has anything to atone for is because everything he held dear was taken away from him. So, he fell - who wouldn't have, in his position? Even your little bitch, Cloud has stumbled. But now, when Sephiroth must've thought there was no lower to fall, even more of his world, even more of himself is gone. He doesn't know why, and face it, Aerith: he'll never put together clues that he hasn't even been given.
"It's the same damned mistake," Lazard sighed. "The same one Hojo made. The same one I made. He's got the build of a warrior; there's no question about that. He has the stamina, the endurance, the intelligence to pull through anything thrown at him, but... he doesn't have the heart for it.
"Jenova's presence or not, he was born human. Sephiroth isn't a machine, and Hojo did so much damage just from expecting him to be one. Even... even me... I thought he'd be fine, just for a month or two without me. Angry, maybe. Hurt, definitely, but alright. He was a SOLDIER, a General - he was strong enough to deal with being abandoned after losing his only friends, right? Gods, I never stopped to consider that that's what I was doing to him. I never thought about being all he had left."
"Are you going somewhere with this?" Aerith's own voice had turned quiet. Dare Lazard guess, even a little choked.
"He can't go on alone," Lazard said. "That's what caused him to fall in the first place. If the planet's gone through this much trouble already to create a defense out of him, it's going about finalizing the matter the wrong way. What it's doing isn't strengthening him through adversity - it's destroying what's left of him, one wrong assumption about himself at a time, with no one to show him the truth. He'll be no use to the planet or anything else if he starves himself or has a complete breakdown. Minerva knows, it's astounding that he's still as coherent as he is."
For the first time since she'd first met the man, it felt uncomfortable as the blond circled behind her.
"I'm not the one who controls these things, Lazard."
"No," he granted, "but you are the one the planet listens to." He paused, leaning closer to her ear. "If his heart doesn't find relief from the stress and pain, and soon, he's got no one left to hate or blame but Gaia, itself. And this time, it would be justified. You know how well that would go, Aerith. The power the Lifestream's given to him, finally discovered by a wild animal that can't be reasoned with, turned against every living thing. Willing to destroy himself, if it means taking down the source of his pain with him. It won't be a matter of wanting to control the planet, as Jenova did. Sephiroth wouldn't stop until the entire world's blown apart, and the Lifestream's interference would only make him stronger. You tell that to the planet."
"And what would you suggest?" Aerith challenged.
The blond would have heaved a sigh, if he'd been breathing. It wasn't a pleasant solution, but a necessary one.
"A keeper. A guardian. Just... someone who can help him and keep him calm. He's so serene when he thinks everything's as it should be. Just like an angel. He's afraid. He must be. Everything he does or learns just brings more pain. It's got to be so disorienting, and no one there knows how to soothe him. No one else has ever seen him this feral-"
Aerith glanced over as the man's thoughts cut off abruptly. His entire echo was stunned into stillness and she could almost swear she was seeing the chill race down where his spine would be. The face that turned to her after a long moment looked as if it had discovered the secrets of life, itself.
"Aerith," Lazard began, softly, distantly, "I know what's wrong. It's not him - it's the Mako."
---
It was far from the most violent display Reno had ever witnessed - quite tame in comparison, really - but he was hard-pressed to remember a time when he wished more that he could take out a wrench and fix everything.
The redhead crouched down in front of the shaking SOLDIER, leaning in until their foreheads met softly. Sephiroth didn't shove him away or try to pull back. He seemed instead to be consciously trying to steady his ragged breathing, which encouraged Reno to touch a hand lightly on the back of the taller man's shoulder.
The former General had certainly chosen the right word: it was wrong to see Sephiroth feel so openly helpless. That gave Reno an idea, at least.
"Hey, Seph?" he tested. "I want you to have something."
Weary green eyes opened to look at him as the Turk leaned back on his heels and reached beneath the left side of his open blazer. Reno's face was a stern warning as he looked back to Sephiroth and withdrew a sleek black pistol.
"I'm only telling you this once," Reno stated. "This isn't for you. It's to plug any son of a bitch that comes into your territory uninvited. If I find out you've even thought of using it on yourself, I will never forgive you. Get me?"
Sephiroth's red-rimmed eyes were wide as he listened, but slowly, he nodded. The effect made Reno feel as though he'd just told a kid not to drink without a sober ride home. It cracked a smile on the redhead's lips.
"Well, that's clear, then," Reno grinned, handing the gun over. "I know you've got a thing for swords, big guy, but have you ever fired one of these?"
"T'ice a year," Sephiroth answered. "Stupid reviews."
"And how'd you do...?" Reno teased.
It took a moment for Sephiroth to dig up the number that was usually so irrelevant to his work. "Ni'ety... ni'ety-one perce't."
The lack of a perfect score was definitely something Reno would tuck back for a jibe on a better day. "That's excellent for what you'll need up here. Did you have to clean it? Load it? The whole bit?"
"Yeah. Said SOLDIERs should know how."
"Cool. Then you're all set, yo."
"But, Reno, don't you need this?" Sephiroth asked, turning the gun over in his hands.
"I have a back-up at home," the Turk dismissed, "and really, I love my EMR too much. That pistol's only been fired once or twice. Stay here a sec, and I'll get a box of ammo from the chopper. That clip won't last forever, if you want to take some practice shots."
Sephiroth's eyes followed and the Turk stood and circled the counters to head for the door. His left hand gripped tightly around the butt of the pistol and the sinking feeling in his stomach that had been arising whenever someone walked away and left him on his own didn't rear its head this time.
Relying on his body to defend himself had failed him completely the last time it mattered, but the pistol in his hands, like the long, steel friend he'd lost to the Nibelheim reactor, would protect him long before anyone could get close enough to touch him. Such a small piece of metal was unexpectedly an enormous comfort.
Although some of the incessant panic Sephiroth felt had been lessened, the weight on his heart stayed firmly in place. He shouldn't need a gun to feel safe. He shouldn't need to feel safe at all. The General had never needed such coddling and reassurances in the middle of wars.
A part of him almost wished he could be back as a SOLDIER, fighting an entire country that wanted him dead, instead of being where and what he was now. It would be nice, really. To still believe his mother was dead and must have loved him, instead of knowing that she was equal parts a bitch who used her child to further her own ambitions, and the two thousand year old cells of an alien that spoke to him more than his birth mother ever had. To have a clear purpose again, no matter how depressing the unchangeable path could be. To still have a home in someone else's quarters, and return to the only real safety the General was afforded; the only safety he really wanted.
It would have be a return to the past, he decided. His current state left him no good to anyone, least of all an executive manager who so carefully indulged in the finest of everything. Wasn't that why Lazard allowed a relationship between them to start in the first place? He could tell the young know-nothing have-nothing would be the best at something some day. It only made sense that Lazard would be attracted to that potential. Every compliment he'd ever paid to Sephiroth's body only made it seem that much more logical.
Lazard was a man who preferred to wait until he could have just what he wanted instead of settling for anything less. No matter what Sephiroth's dreams and hallucinations said, there was no way Lazard would want Hojo's pitiful leftovers, not when he didn't even want a war hero without a war to fight.
Sephiroth brought a hand up to his mouth just as the fresh tears burned through his lashes and froze on their way down his face. That had to be it. Once the war ended, that was when Lazard seemed to grow distracted. Not so much distant; he did a good job at keeping up a facade. Yet there were steadily more nights that weren't spent together, gradually shorter phone calls when they were apart... like Lazard just didn't want him around anymore, but wouldn't come out and say it. Without a war, there was nothing for Sephiroth to do best. At least, nothing that the whole world could see on the news, then see clinging to Lazard's side.
That was gone, of course. If a new war broke out, Sephiroth wouldn't be of any use in fighting it, and as Hojo so often loved to remind him, what else had the former General ever been fit for? Even trading his body for Lazard's company wouldn't work anymore when Sephiroth was little more than a warm corpse. Covered in metal gates to a biological hell. Scarred on his back and stomach from being run through on Angeal's sword. A dead eye as attractive as the depths of a Mako reactor. The cat-like pupil Lazard found so exotic, gone from the other. That small, hideous mark on his forehead, covering the reason he now spoke like an imbecile.
No, Lazard wouldn't want such a mess back, and Sephiroth couldn't blame him. The former SOLDIER would do anything his director asked to have their old life back, would find a way to crawl back to Jenova if it meant the power to force Lazard to return and stay. Anything, if someone would only tell him what miracle it was he had to perform.
Sephiroth pulled the hood fold of blanket over his head again, feeling low enough without actually crying in front of Reno on top of it. The first sounds or raindrops hit against the windows, blown around by a gust of wind. Footsteps drew closer to him, and Sephiroth hoped desperately that the redhead wouldn't pry too much. Through a slight crack in the fabric, Sephiroth could see black shoes stop in front of him and a figure looking somewhat thicker than Reno's wiry frame bend down onto one knee covered in white.
The fingers of a white glove reached for the hood's edge to cautiously pull it up for a look inside, and Sephiroth's despair finally hit its numbing depths.
"You don't look well at all." Soft and deep gray looked glossy enough to start weeping in sympathy any moment. There weren't any glasses, but stray wisps of silky honey blond hair hung in front of a face that was too painfully in focus. A white glove was pulled away for a bare hand made of a peach velvet to touch the back of its palm to Sephiroth's cheek and forehead. "You ought to rest. Really rest; not this sitting here and fighting it."
"I feel mis'rable," Sephiroth related quietly.
"You haven't slept in three days. I'm not surprised."
"I need you."
"You need to sleep."
"No. It only gets worse."
"Nothing can hurt you while I'm here."
"But, you're not here."
"I've been with you every day for the past two years, and I'm here now. I won't leave again."
"When I wake up this time and you're gone, I'll die."
The gray eyes looked up at him with a light of comfort that only made Sephiroth feel worse. He'd seen that look before and missed it desperately.
"And that's the reason I won't leave. Angel, I don't deserve it, but I'm asking you to trust me. Just this once. Trust me just enough to believe I won't disappear when you close your eyes."
"I can't. You will."
"You were always so much smarter than you gave yourself credit for, angel, but you still don't know everything. Go to sleep, SOLDIER. You're relieved."
The familiarity of an order was immediately welcomed, even as Sephiroth still fought his body against instinctively complying. He strained to keep the figure in his sight as he leaned his shoulder against the shelf's sidewall. The blond only moved to bring his second knee to the floor and sit back on his heels, not to move away as Sephiroth dreaded. But if he was going to stay in place, Sephiroth wanted to stay awake and look at him all the more. Sephiroth closed his eyes to hold back another wave of tears; as soon as he did, his exhaustion won out. His muscles went slack as he shut down.
The last he was conscious of was the feeling of fingers closing around his hand not a full second before a voice that sounded like Reno's let out a startled expletive.
---
Midway through his remote study's sixth day, Reeve was growing concerned over the data being returned to Junon.
The levels of Mako radiation around the upper plate and tower were higher than his estimates, but not catastrophically so. There wouldn't be enough data to accurately estimate the rate of dispersion from the atmosphere until the first six-week cycle completed. The plantlife outdoors was absorbing the residue, but it wasn't soaking into the uncontaminated Junon soil they were growing in. The water filtration appeared to be working, a rainstorm had passed over Midgar the previous evening, and that meant there would be more concrete readings to judge by the next day.
The data that the station was set up to collect wasn't what was troubling him.
There was supposed to be a human element to the study, as well. Sephiroth was supposed to be sending short personal reports through a digital voice recorder, telling if there were any mechanical problems, if he suspected any new physical ailments, if he felt better, if he felt worse, even just to send a 'situation normal' once a day.
Reeve hadn't received a single one since the first day, although the rest of the readings came in as instructed. Officially, Reno had been sent to Midgar to investigate their volunteer for Rufus, but the real purpose of the visit had turned into finding out whether Sephiroth had forgotten his own reports or if something was wrong.
The Turk hadn't said anything to Reeve after returning late the night before, but that was expected. Reno had no normal reason to stop by to see the engineer, and even a passing curiosity was attention they didn't need to attract. Meanwhile, apparent chit-chat in the morning wouldn't garner a second glance.
Helping to keep Vincent's secret didn't help Reeve's patience, though. Tuesti was certain Reno had already told Rufus what he wanted to hear as soon as he'd gotten back to Junon, but there was still the morning debriefings to wait through; one small Mako study wasn't the Turks' responsibility to monitor, and far from the only tasks to be taken care of.
After almost an hour, the redhead passed by Reeve's open door, an easy grin on his face as he told Elena he'd catch up to her in a few minutes. Reeve took it as a sign that Sephiroth was doing alright, but with the closer Reno approached, the more of his lazy smile disappeared. The Turk's face took on a blank look of confusion and profound surprise that must've taken his every ounce of self-control to keep hidden until now.
"Please just tell me you didn't arrive to a bonfire," Reeve said quietly.
"No," Reno assured him, his voice no louder, "nothing like that. The sparrow's alive, the place is intact, Edge is still in one untoasted piece."
"Then, what in the world's spooked you like this?"
"We can keep secrets, right?"
"I should hope so, at this point."
"Reeve," the redhead began, slowly shaking his head, "you will never fucking believe who showed up."
---
Fandom: FFVII (starts one year before AC:C)
Characters: Sephiroth, Reeve, Reno, Lazard, Aerith
Pairing(s): Sephiroth/Lazard
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warning: Emotional trauma, mentions of medical abuse
Word count: approx. 4,300
Summary: A chance find in the Shin-Ra manor throws Vincent into parenthood and Sephiroth into a world that went on without him.
A/N: Although I like staying within the realm of possibility, consider this an AU. Just one that closely mirrors the original. Also, I don't have a beta and I drop letters and whole words sometimes. I try to catch and fix them, but sorry about that in advance. Ratings may change between chapters.
Previously: [01]-[02]-[03]-[04]-[05]-[06]-[07]-[08]-[09]-[10]
---------
It wasn't looking to be quite the free day-pass Reno had been expecting.
From the moment he'd offered to be the one to 'investigate' Shin-Ra's volunteer in old Midgar, he'd figured it would entail most of a day spent keeping Sephiroth company, letting him feel a little less isolated, maybe even dragging the former SOLDIER down to some out of the way place in Edge for a drink.
Then Reeve returned from setting up the WRO's data collection station, and told the Turk in guarded, mumbled conversation that things hadn't gone as smoothly as everyone had planned. Vincent had been present and fortunately got to Sephiroth before any of Reeve's assistants saw too much. A sleep spell had to be used. Reeve's official statement to anyone who asked was an unexpected bout of post-traumatic stress. Reno could attest that it wasn't a lie. It was the 'isolated incident' part that he wasn't as sure of.
The Turk's timing was perfect, arriving above Sector Three just as the sky had darkened but before the night required any lights that might give him away. The helicopter landed in the widest patch of open pavement, two streets over from the library. Walking to the building was an unsettling experience of it own; Reno's footsteps along the concrete and debris sounded impossibly loud from the simple fact that there was no other noise to soften them. Even the sounds of traffic and activity from Edge didn't make it around the barrier of the tower. It should've been tranquil, he supposed, but when he knew what the plate used to be like, it was just damned eerie.
The library had no outside light on, but that was hardly surprising. Only perhaps a couple of small lights were on inside, just enough to see the suggestion of Reeve's equipment beside the building before the night fully took hold.
A long steel planting box that looked taken straight from a nursery sat in the empty street, a couple of yards away from the library and exposed to the elements. Another sat closer to the wall, open as well but covered from the rainfall to be tended manually. A small satellite dish had been mounted to the corner of the roof, pointed toward Junon. Behind it, on what Reno assumed from his vantage point was the far side of the roof, a military water tower was set up. He could see the top half of a big box installed between the supports, probably full of sensors and filters.
The large front door wasn't locked when Reno tested the handle. It opened quietly on oiled hinges. Patches of a thick vinyl sheeting, just transparent enough to allow sunlight in, covered broken windows and holes in the wall to keep the rain and Mako residue out. Metal racks of books were sorted and stuffed back to an order that was probably neater than the last time the library had been open to the public. The racks had been pushed a bit closer together, however, to make space for another long nursery bed and what Reno supposed was an air filter. Like the others outside, a dense black cable slithered out of the soil and ran along the wall toward the store room to tell the data banks whatever the WRO wanted to know.
The smooth, dark-tinted cement floor had been mopped, the library's wooden accents and librarian's counters wiped down, likely polished, windowsills and furniture dusted, and it appeared some nearby hotel had been looted for the couple of mattresses and vast amount of white pillows all piled up in the third floor mezzanine's turret room. Save for the bedding, the building looked damaged, but open for business. Impressive, when Reeve had only left five days before.
Something, however, was missing.
"Seph?" Reno called out, still taking in details as he listened for a response. "Hello, Seph...?"
"Oh, gods."
The sound was small, faint and just a little hoarse, and years of experience with watching his own back had Reno easily tracking it around to the front inside corner of the wooden counter.
On a low shelf that once held stacks of returned books was a haphazard cocoon of a king-sized beige hotel blanket with a pair of long calves wrapped in knee-high black leather boots sticking out of its front.
"Uh... am I allowed to ask what you're doing down there, big guy?" Reno asked.
"Rather you don't."
"So, I don't get to see your pretty face today, huh?"
"No. Not pretty, trus' me."
Reno pursed his lips a bit as he leaned over the counter's end and folded his arms. "This got anything to do with the little incident Reeve told me about?"
"Shit, he told you?"
"Only me, Seph," Reno reassured him. "And it's not like either of us are gonna blab it to the world and let them know you're here."
"What'd he say?"
"Just that you had a kind of panic attack, and had to sleep through the set-up in the chopper."
"Hmm."
"Why? What really happened?"
The hood of blanket reluctantly shook back from Sephiroth's face like a loose hood. His right eye was bloodshot and both were rimmed with the dark circles of lost rest.
"I screamed," Sephiroth confessed, "right before I threw up."
"Say again?"
A pale hand rose to Sephiroth's forehead and rubbed just below his widow's peak. The other twirled a finger in a circle with a tremble in the air. "One of them... one of them had a... had a... a d- dr-..."
A drill, Reno assumed, but if Sephiroth couldn't bring himself to say it, making the guess aloud didn't seem like a smart move.
"I saw the mater'a in Vissent's hand," Sephiroth continued, his voice hitching every few syllables as he tried not to sob in front of the Turk, "then knew I was asleep. The whole time... the whole time, I just saw him... coming at me with that thing... over and over..."
The details were lost on Reno, but the way Sephiroth clutched at his forehead with both hands as though covering a bleeding wound explained enough.
"You're okay now, Seph," the Turk attempted to comfort. "You woke up. It wasn't real. And it sure looks to me like you've been able to keep busy around here."
"For three days."
"For three days, what?"
"Vissent left the first day after," Sephiroth said. It might have been a wail, if his voice had felt stronger. "Said he'd be back, but I know better. Didn't say when, and even he's ashamed of what I am by now. I just... I didn't want to think about it - any of it - anymore. So, I went to fixing. I got the whole thing clean in three days. Fixed the books, put them all back. Checked the numbers t'ice. Put all the bent pages straight.
"Nothing to do. Nothing to do anymore, Reno. Just- just do what Reeve needs. Takes a' hour. Then wait for Vissent, but he's not coming back. Wait for Lazard, but he's not coming back. And he promised... Just waiting. Waiting for him to find me... To come through that door... What would I do, Reno? What would I do? I stay down here, hope to Shiva he can't find me..."
"Seph, maybe you should call Reeve; tell him-"
"TELL HIM WHAT?" The last of Sephiroth's pride screamed the words out before he could stop them. "Tell him a SOLDIER 1st Class is under a goddamn counter, hiding?! Tell him you both stuck your necks out for me, and five days in, I'm fucked?! 'Yeah, hi, Reeve, just want to say it's so fucking quiet here at night, I hear every fucking bird on the roof and it sounds like feet on the road outside and I fucking want to cry'... Goddamn it, what's wrong with me?!"
---
"This is a mistake."
There was no need to turn toward the voice when the essences strong enough to speak flowed freely around one another, but Aerith was new enough within the Lifestream to still be thinking in the terms of her corporeal form.
The same voice that had rarely formed a solid word when she'd first arrived now spoke more than any spirit she'd encountered. Usually, about the same matter. This time, however, his choice of words were different. There was a knowledge behind them, a certainty, and unfortunately, if anyone could spot a sure problem with the planet's endeavor, he would be the one.
"Care to elaborate?" she asked, feeling the tall blond collecting himself into a visible shape nearby.
"You told me that the last six years have been Sephiroth's atonement," Lazard said evenly.
"Yes...?"
"And that he's been prepared for service to the planet as his penance."
"Yes."
"No one else can do the things the planet wants of him and I know that, but to leave him to figure out what to do on his own is cruelty beyond his punishments. The only reason he has anything to atone for is because everything he held dear was taken away from him. So, he fell - who wouldn't have, in his position? Even your little bitch, Cloud has stumbled. But now, when Sephiroth must've thought there was no lower to fall, even more of his world, even more of himself is gone. He doesn't know why, and face it, Aerith: he'll never put together clues that he hasn't even been given.
"It's the same damned mistake," Lazard sighed. "The same one Hojo made. The same one I made. He's got the build of a warrior; there's no question about that. He has the stamina, the endurance, the intelligence to pull through anything thrown at him, but... he doesn't have the heart for it.
"Jenova's presence or not, he was born human. Sephiroth isn't a machine, and Hojo did so much damage just from expecting him to be one. Even... even me... I thought he'd be fine, just for a month or two without me. Angry, maybe. Hurt, definitely, but alright. He was a SOLDIER, a General - he was strong enough to deal with being abandoned after losing his only friends, right? Gods, I never stopped to consider that that's what I was doing to him. I never thought about being all he had left."
"Are you going somewhere with this?" Aerith's own voice had turned quiet. Dare Lazard guess, even a little choked.
"He can't go on alone," Lazard said. "That's what caused him to fall in the first place. If the planet's gone through this much trouble already to create a defense out of him, it's going about finalizing the matter the wrong way. What it's doing isn't strengthening him through adversity - it's destroying what's left of him, one wrong assumption about himself at a time, with no one to show him the truth. He'll be no use to the planet or anything else if he starves himself or has a complete breakdown. Minerva knows, it's astounding that he's still as coherent as he is."
For the first time since she'd first met the man, it felt uncomfortable as the blond circled behind her.
"I'm not the one who controls these things, Lazard."
"No," he granted, "but you are the one the planet listens to." He paused, leaning closer to her ear. "If his heart doesn't find relief from the stress and pain, and soon, he's got no one left to hate or blame but Gaia, itself. And this time, it would be justified. You know how well that would go, Aerith. The power the Lifestream's given to him, finally discovered by a wild animal that can't be reasoned with, turned against every living thing. Willing to destroy himself, if it means taking down the source of his pain with him. It won't be a matter of wanting to control the planet, as Jenova did. Sephiroth wouldn't stop until the entire world's blown apart, and the Lifestream's interference would only make him stronger. You tell that to the planet."
"And what would you suggest?" Aerith challenged.
The blond would have heaved a sigh, if he'd been breathing. It wasn't a pleasant solution, but a necessary one.
"A keeper. A guardian. Just... someone who can help him and keep him calm. He's so serene when he thinks everything's as it should be. Just like an angel. He's afraid. He must be. Everything he does or learns just brings more pain. It's got to be so disorienting, and no one there knows how to soothe him. No one else has ever seen him this feral-"
Aerith glanced over as the man's thoughts cut off abruptly. His entire echo was stunned into stillness and she could almost swear she was seeing the chill race down where his spine would be. The face that turned to her after a long moment looked as if it had discovered the secrets of life, itself.
"Aerith," Lazard began, softly, distantly, "I know what's wrong. It's not him - it's the Mako."
---
It was far from the most violent display Reno had ever witnessed - quite tame in comparison, really - but he was hard-pressed to remember a time when he wished more that he could take out a wrench and fix everything.
The redhead crouched down in front of the shaking SOLDIER, leaning in until their foreheads met softly. Sephiroth didn't shove him away or try to pull back. He seemed instead to be consciously trying to steady his ragged breathing, which encouraged Reno to touch a hand lightly on the back of the taller man's shoulder.
The former General had certainly chosen the right word: it was wrong to see Sephiroth feel so openly helpless. That gave Reno an idea, at least.
"Hey, Seph?" he tested. "I want you to have something."
Weary green eyes opened to look at him as the Turk leaned back on his heels and reached beneath the left side of his open blazer. Reno's face was a stern warning as he looked back to Sephiroth and withdrew a sleek black pistol.
"I'm only telling you this once," Reno stated. "This isn't for you. It's to plug any son of a bitch that comes into your territory uninvited. If I find out you've even thought of using it on yourself, I will never forgive you. Get me?"
Sephiroth's red-rimmed eyes were wide as he listened, but slowly, he nodded. The effect made Reno feel as though he'd just told a kid not to drink without a sober ride home. It cracked a smile on the redhead's lips.
"Well, that's clear, then," Reno grinned, handing the gun over. "I know you've got a thing for swords, big guy, but have you ever fired one of these?"
"T'ice a year," Sephiroth answered. "Stupid reviews."
"And how'd you do...?" Reno teased.
It took a moment for Sephiroth to dig up the number that was usually so irrelevant to his work. "Ni'ety... ni'ety-one perce't."
The lack of a perfect score was definitely something Reno would tuck back for a jibe on a better day. "That's excellent for what you'll need up here. Did you have to clean it? Load it? The whole bit?"
"Yeah. Said SOLDIERs should know how."
"Cool. Then you're all set, yo."
"But, Reno, don't you need this?" Sephiroth asked, turning the gun over in his hands.
"I have a back-up at home," the Turk dismissed, "and really, I love my EMR too much. That pistol's only been fired once or twice. Stay here a sec, and I'll get a box of ammo from the chopper. That clip won't last forever, if you want to take some practice shots."
Sephiroth's eyes followed and the Turk stood and circled the counters to head for the door. His left hand gripped tightly around the butt of the pistol and the sinking feeling in his stomach that had been arising whenever someone walked away and left him on his own didn't rear its head this time.
Relying on his body to defend himself had failed him completely the last time it mattered, but the pistol in his hands, like the long, steel friend he'd lost to the Nibelheim reactor, would protect him long before anyone could get close enough to touch him. Such a small piece of metal was unexpectedly an enormous comfort.
Although some of the incessant panic Sephiroth felt had been lessened, the weight on his heart stayed firmly in place. He shouldn't need a gun to feel safe. He shouldn't need to feel safe at all. The General had never needed such coddling and reassurances in the middle of wars.
A part of him almost wished he could be back as a SOLDIER, fighting an entire country that wanted him dead, instead of being where and what he was now. It would be nice, really. To still believe his mother was dead and must have loved him, instead of knowing that she was equal parts a bitch who used her child to further her own ambitions, and the two thousand year old cells of an alien that spoke to him more than his birth mother ever had. To have a clear purpose again, no matter how depressing the unchangeable path could be. To still have a home in someone else's quarters, and return to the only real safety the General was afforded; the only safety he really wanted.
It would have be a return to the past, he decided. His current state left him no good to anyone, least of all an executive manager who so carefully indulged in the finest of everything. Wasn't that why Lazard allowed a relationship between them to start in the first place? He could tell the young know-nothing have-nothing would be the best at something some day. It only made sense that Lazard would be attracted to that potential. Every compliment he'd ever paid to Sephiroth's body only made it seem that much more logical.
Lazard was a man who preferred to wait until he could have just what he wanted instead of settling for anything less. No matter what Sephiroth's dreams and hallucinations said, there was no way Lazard would want Hojo's pitiful leftovers, not when he didn't even want a war hero without a war to fight.
Sephiroth brought a hand up to his mouth just as the fresh tears burned through his lashes and froze on their way down his face. That had to be it. Once the war ended, that was when Lazard seemed to grow distracted. Not so much distant; he did a good job at keeping up a facade. Yet there were steadily more nights that weren't spent together, gradually shorter phone calls when they were apart... like Lazard just didn't want him around anymore, but wouldn't come out and say it. Without a war, there was nothing for Sephiroth to do best. At least, nothing that the whole world could see on the news, then see clinging to Lazard's side.
That was gone, of course. If a new war broke out, Sephiroth wouldn't be of any use in fighting it, and as Hojo so often loved to remind him, what else had the former General ever been fit for? Even trading his body for Lazard's company wouldn't work anymore when Sephiroth was little more than a warm corpse. Covered in metal gates to a biological hell. Scarred on his back and stomach from being run through on Angeal's sword. A dead eye as attractive as the depths of a Mako reactor. The cat-like pupil Lazard found so exotic, gone from the other. That small, hideous mark on his forehead, covering the reason he now spoke like an imbecile.
No, Lazard wouldn't want such a mess back, and Sephiroth couldn't blame him. The former SOLDIER would do anything his director asked to have their old life back, would find a way to crawl back to Jenova if it meant the power to force Lazard to return and stay. Anything, if someone would only tell him what miracle it was he had to perform.
Sephiroth pulled the hood fold of blanket over his head again, feeling low enough without actually crying in front of Reno on top of it. The first sounds or raindrops hit against the windows, blown around by a gust of wind. Footsteps drew closer to him, and Sephiroth hoped desperately that the redhead wouldn't pry too much. Through a slight crack in the fabric, Sephiroth could see black shoes stop in front of him and a figure looking somewhat thicker than Reno's wiry frame bend down onto one knee covered in white.
The fingers of a white glove reached for the hood's edge to cautiously pull it up for a look inside, and Sephiroth's despair finally hit its numbing depths.
"You don't look well at all." Soft and deep gray looked glossy enough to start weeping in sympathy any moment. There weren't any glasses, but stray wisps of silky honey blond hair hung in front of a face that was too painfully in focus. A white glove was pulled away for a bare hand made of a peach velvet to touch the back of its palm to Sephiroth's cheek and forehead. "You ought to rest. Really rest; not this sitting here and fighting it."
"I feel mis'rable," Sephiroth related quietly.
"You haven't slept in three days. I'm not surprised."
"I need you."
"You need to sleep."
"No. It only gets worse."
"Nothing can hurt you while I'm here."
"But, you're not here."
"I've been with you every day for the past two years, and I'm here now. I won't leave again."
"When I wake up this time and you're gone, I'll die."
The gray eyes looked up at him with a light of comfort that only made Sephiroth feel worse. He'd seen that look before and missed it desperately.
"And that's the reason I won't leave. Angel, I don't deserve it, but I'm asking you to trust me. Just this once. Trust me just enough to believe I won't disappear when you close your eyes."
"I can't. You will."
"You were always so much smarter than you gave yourself credit for, angel, but you still don't know everything. Go to sleep, SOLDIER. You're relieved."
The familiarity of an order was immediately welcomed, even as Sephiroth still fought his body against instinctively complying. He strained to keep the figure in his sight as he leaned his shoulder against the shelf's sidewall. The blond only moved to bring his second knee to the floor and sit back on his heels, not to move away as Sephiroth dreaded. But if he was going to stay in place, Sephiroth wanted to stay awake and look at him all the more. Sephiroth closed his eyes to hold back another wave of tears; as soon as he did, his exhaustion won out. His muscles went slack as he shut down.
The last he was conscious of was the feeling of fingers closing around his hand not a full second before a voice that sounded like Reno's let out a startled expletive.
---
Midway through his remote study's sixth day, Reeve was growing concerned over the data being returned to Junon.
The levels of Mako radiation around the upper plate and tower were higher than his estimates, but not catastrophically so. There wouldn't be enough data to accurately estimate the rate of dispersion from the atmosphere until the first six-week cycle completed. The plantlife outdoors was absorbing the residue, but it wasn't soaking into the uncontaminated Junon soil they were growing in. The water filtration appeared to be working, a rainstorm had passed over Midgar the previous evening, and that meant there would be more concrete readings to judge by the next day.
The data that the station was set up to collect wasn't what was troubling him.
There was supposed to be a human element to the study, as well. Sephiroth was supposed to be sending short personal reports through a digital voice recorder, telling if there were any mechanical problems, if he suspected any new physical ailments, if he felt better, if he felt worse, even just to send a 'situation normal' once a day.
Reeve hadn't received a single one since the first day, although the rest of the readings came in as instructed. Officially, Reno had been sent to Midgar to investigate their volunteer for Rufus, but the real purpose of the visit had turned into finding out whether Sephiroth had forgotten his own reports or if something was wrong.
The Turk hadn't said anything to Reeve after returning late the night before, but that was expected. Reno had no normal reason to stop by to see the engineer, and even a passing curiosity was attention they didn't need to attract. Meanwhile, apparent chit-chat in the morning wouldn't garner a second glance.
Helping to keep Vincent's secret didn't help Reeve's patience, though. Tuesti was certain Reno had already told Rufus what he wanted to hear as soon as he'd gotten back to Junon, but there was still the morning debriefings to wait through; one small Mako study wasn't the Turks' responsibility to monitor, and far from the only tasks to be taken care of.
After almost an hour, the redhead passed by Reeve's open door, an easy grin on his face as he told Elena he'd catch up to her in a few minutes. Reeve took it as a sign that Sephiroth was doing alright, but with the closer Reno approached, the more of his lazy smile disappeared. The Turk's face took on a blank look of confusion and profound surprise that must've taken his every ounce of self-control to keep hidden until now.
"Please just tell me you didn't arrive to a bonfire," Reeve said quietly.
"No," Reno assured him, his voice no louder, "nothing like that. The sparrow's alive, the place is intact, Edge is still in one untoasted piece."
"Then, what in the world's spooked you like this?"
"We can keep secrets, right?"
"I should hope so, at this point."
"Reeve," the redhead began, slowly shaking his head, "you will never fucking believe who showed up."
---
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