#extra log

She held her by the bottom before cradling her properly. Her diaper seems fine. Suppose he could’ve figured that out pretty quick, if he hadn’t already. In her mother’s arms, Rosie soon quieted down, tiny fingers pawing at Aerith’s neck. “You didn’t have to get up, hon,” she said to Cloud as he yawned. “It’s my turn, anyway--”

“I was already up,” he said. He sighed with a small smirk. “Might as well make myself useful, huh…?”

Aerith frowned, but patted the baby’s back in a steady rhythm. This is one of the first nights you’ve been here, rather than on night shift. Maybe that’s why? God, you really work too hard. Tifa worries about you all the time… “Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah, the night shifts are messing me up.” He ran a hand back through his spiked hair. “What time is it? Two or something…?”

“Uh-huh.”

Cloud sighed through his nose. “Maybe I’ll get some sleep before work…if I can.” He glanced over at Aerith, then back down at the floor. “Bad dreams lately.”

“Oh?” she asked.

He stared out through the window, where the city lights of Midgar still shined strong in the velvet dark. “It’s been…what, five years since the mako accident?”

“Almost six.”

He shook his head. “I still have…nightmares about it. Everything’s in a blue film, and I can’t move, and I’ve got to watch Zack…and Ti…”

“Hey…” Aerith used one arm to hold the baby, beginning to doze, and the other to rub his shoulder.

“Even y-you’re in them, too,” Cloud continued, chewing his lip. “It’s just…I-I know, it’s just a dream, a lot of shit’s different, but…still.”

“Yeah, I know.” A lot is different. For one, you’re not as anxious as you used to be. Meds helped, and training new SOLDIER pretty steadily has helped you, too. 1st-class and all.

He touched her hand on his shoulder, revealing the silver and gold braided band on his finger, and offered her a quiet smile. But, you’re still the same quiet, shy person I met in the Shinra rehearsal room, who called me “ma’am” on instinct, and had the biggest, star-struck eyes for Zack Fair…

With a quick squeeze, he released her hand, allowing her to readjust the baby. “You should take some time off. Seriously,” Aerith said. Rosie’s breathing relaxed enough for her to wander back to the crib and ease her down on her back. “You’re working weekends too, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Well, Zack’s gotta be home…for the baby.” Cloud gestured to the crib before scratching his chest over his shirt. “So, I gotta be around base to cover--”

“He’d cover for you, you know that,” Aerith said, then winked at him. “Besides, she’s your kid, too. Just like Dezzie’s ours. We’re all a family. Together.”

He covered his mouth, clearly hiding a bigger smile, judging by the shape of his cheeks. Then he blinked, but still spoke behind his cupped hand. “Oh, would you mind picking him up from school tomorrow?”

“You still don’t like him taking the bus out by himself, do you?” she asked. 

“He’s only ten.”

“But he’s going to school above the plate. He’ll be fine.”

Cloud sighed. “Maybe. But, I’d rather wait ‘til he gets into middle school before then…”

She shook her head and tugged on his arm. “You are such a dad,” she chided. I guess most of that worry and anxiety had to go somewhere. “Come to bed. Zack misses you.”

Cloud allowed himself to be drawn out of the bedroom with a snicker. “Zack is dead asleep, and you know it.”

"Oh, humor me, will you?” she replied, sticking her tongue out.

They walked to the bedroom, arm and arm, and before Cloud returned to the other side of the bed, he paused and kissed the top of Aerith’s head quickly. “Good night,” he whispered.

“Get some sleep, okay?” she said. I think even though I’m the new mom, you’re the one who needs it the most.

She cuddled in next to Zack, who, upon sensing her presence, wrapped an arm around her waist, cementing her in place. On the other side, she heard Tifa and Cloud murmuring to each other, before a soft kissing sound returned the room to silence. With a yawn and the warmth of her partner beside her, Aerith closed her eyes and started to drift. Sometimes, even with the stressful stuff that’s gone on, I keep thinking I’m going to wake up from this dream I’m having. The dream where I have a huge bed, and three other wonderful people in it…

…people I can call my family, that I chose, that I love…

The stack was thick. There were initial lines on every page. I’m going to be here all morning, Sephiroth thought with disdain.

“I suggest you read through everything, but I can give you a verbal summary.”

Sephiroth’s eyes flicked up to meet Lazard’s own, blue shielded behind glasses. “Please,” he said.

Lazard cleared his throat and folded his hands together on his desk.

“As a 1st-class SOLDIER, you will be tasked with leading initiatives and training subordinates. Tseng will act as your direct report to deliver orders directly from me. While you will have freedom within the company and will not be restricted in most of your activities, you will become property of Shinra.”

Sephiroth’s eyebrows narrowed.

“You will live where we tell you to and be stationed where we tell you to be. You may conduct your personal life as you wish, but bear in mind that when you are in uniform, you are representing Shinra. You may be called upon at any time to go on patrol or to serve.

“While most who make it this far intend to stay with the company, 1st-class in particular is a lifetime sentence. Given the mako composition already administered to you, you will be granted good health and a longer life, which you are indebted to by the company. You can choose to ‘retire’ as early as 65 years of age, however if Shinra requests your abilities, you can not refuse.”

Sephiroth sighed as a result of holding his breath. “So, there is no way to be discharged?”

Lazard shook his head. “Even a lateral move will not absolve you of this responsibility...especially one of your ability.” He took off his glasses, which revealed a shimmer in his eyes that Sephiroth had not noticed before. “Before this, I was also 1st-class SOLDIER, many moons ago now. If they wanted to, they could ask me to don the black and suspenders and go out on the field.”

“Have they?” Sephiroth asked, blinking.

“No,” Lazard chuckled. “I have done my best to keep that from happening in my position. However, if Mr. President so wished, he could make the demand. I would give him an earful, but I could not refuse.”

His voice dripped with contempt as he spoke the words “Mr. President”. It was a tone Sephiroth didn’t think was possible from him,  and he briefly shared a look with Tseng, still at the office door. Tseng pursed his lips, but said nothing.

“There are some other Shinra positions that carry similar caveats,” Lazard continued, “particularly those who possess company trade secrets. However, SOLDIER is special, because of your genetic modification and physical ability, combined with some level of inner company workings.

“Therefore, you will never be discharged. If a situation would warrant a ‘dishonorable’ discharge...you will be terminated. Your status will be ‘killed in action.’“

Sephiroth stared down at the contract, words no longer legible but distorted squiggles crawling on the paper. Is this why Jenova tried to dissuade me from joining SOLDIER? Because it is an irreversible, eventual death sentence?

(”...monster...just like the rest of us...”)

Genesis’s eyes flashed in his mind again. He knew the truth as well.

“I always start with this up front, because it is important.” Lazard sighed. “Many SOLDIER in 2nd and 3rd-class often get the wrong idea about the glamour of 1st-class. It can be a lonely job, and comes with a heavy price.”

Lazard’s face relaxed. “This all being said, I have been watching you come up, and I have no qualms regarding your sense of duty and responsibility. Unless you have a dramatic change of heart, I don’t think you will be getting into any trouble, as it were.”

Sephiroth smirked humorlessly. “I appreciate the compliment,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?” He bit his lip and shrugged. “I already accepted the promotion.”

Lazard said nothing, but his eyes confirmed it. This paperwork is a formality. I suppose if I really wanted out, I could refuse and be demoted. But, with the press conference already over, it would mean a scandal. Which may mean termination.

Of me.

At the same time...was there any other path for me?

To stand at the top, alone...

“If you turn to page 32, you will see your new yearly salary,” Lazard continued, gentler than before as he placed his glasses back on his face. “Given the circumstances you yourself addressed, you are in a unique position to negotiate for a higher salary if you so choose.”

The page had been tabbed with a yellow sticky note for easy access. Sephiroth turned to it and stared at the large number staring back at him. “In fact, I may preemptively bump it, provided the budget is available. Or a signing bonus could be in order?”

“This is...this is fine,” Sephiroth replied. With this money, I could buy Mother a new house out of the Sector 2 slums in a couple of years...!

“Well, I’ll still see what I can do,” Lazard replied. “Your benefits are completely covered by Shinra at no cost to you. You also have special access to Shinra owned condominium buildings, including the newest one near Sector 5. Angeal and Genesis own condos there, for example.”

That’s a luxury building, Sephiroth thought, still staring down at the compensation number on the sheet. I never gave much thought to where I would be living; I assumed I would continue to stay on base, or just go and live with Mother to help with the kids...

“The condos can be bought at half of market rate, either outright or through an interest-free payment plan, your choice. I will forward you our real estate agent’s contact information before the end of the day.

“You also are now allowed to carry your own weapon, and not a Shinra issued one. If you are interested in a sword, we have a blacksmith who is on site part of the week that can craft you a blade. Otherwise, there are a few options in Midgar if your tastes lie elsewhere.”

A new sword, Sephiroth thought, that will be a relief. He thought of Angeal’s heavy Buster Sword, and Genesis’s slender and elaborate Rapier. Though I am not sure what style to get. Perhaps something light and simple...

Lazard continued. “I would like you to take some time in the coming weeks shadowing your fellow 1sts in their duties. You can get a feel for where their strengths lie and what you would prefer to do while on base. You will be stationed here in Midgar for the foreseeable future.”

“I see,” he said.

Lazard smiled quizzically. “I thought you may be more enthusiastic about that. Keeping you with your colleagues, and close to family as well.”

“A-ah, I am...” Sephiroth said. Typically, his emotions often didn’t come across well, but with his heart heavy under circumstance, he could only muster a thin lipped turn of his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Eventually, I would like to see you be a de facto leader among the 1sts, hence the free reign you’ll be given here. It will be a different story once you are deployed.” He stared in space behind Sephiroth. “We will not be at war forever, after all. That is my hope...”

“How soon will that be?” Sephiroth asked.

It was the first time Lazard looked taken aback. But, even that was controlled. “Come again?”

“How long...until we are deployed again?”

Lazard’s expression neutralized. “Right. Unfortunately, I can’t say for sure. Within the year, I assume. Maybe as soon as a month. Could be tomorrow, though unlikely. Your performance should keep things at bay for a while.”

Sephiroth’s eyes flicked down to the mound of paperwork. He watched himself aimlessly flip back to the beginning. This is how it will be, now. This is the point I wanted to make it to. Now that I’m here, I don’t know how to feel...

I always wanted to be at the top, to be the best,

(to be the most useful)

(you’re different than all the others)

and even...to be admired.

(”You’re such a freak!” the boy spit at him. He punched him and grabbed him by his hair, shoving him against the lockers. “This isn’t a wig? Your hair is like this, silver like a fucking old man? Gross!”

Sephiroth’s nostrils flared, and he grabbed the boy by the waist, easily hurling him backward...)

I never got it growing up, not where it mattered. Fifteen years rotting away in an orphanage, then three in the slums.

But now...

(As he walked by the reception desk, a group of Shinra administrative professionals in crisp, white blouses and black pencil skirts all turned their heads. “E-Excuse me!” one piped up.

Sephiroth paused and looked back. He wasn’t even in uniform yet--only his black, company jacket, a t-shirt and jeans--but each of the women were tinted with pink. “Yes?” he asked.

“You’re, um, you’re Sephiroth Cetra, right? 1st-class, sir?”

“That’s right,”

“Wow!” she exclaimed, then quickly looked away. “Um, sorry! I just wanted...your hair is beautiful, by the way!”

She scurried back, clearly embarrassed. Sephiroth lifted his chin. “Thank you...”)

“Do you have any questions for me?” asked Lazard. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

Sephiroth didn’t hear him, mind far away. Now...

(Genesis clapped as Sephiroth destroyed the last target dummy. “Well done, well done,” he said, taking a drag off a cigarette. It looked like one, but the smell said otherwise. “Damn, you’re good.”

“Do you think so?” Sephiroth asked.

“Oh, yeah. You’ll be 1st in no time. It’s like Shinra pumped you out of the fuckin’ lab as the model SOLDIER.” Genesis coughed a little smoke and laughed at his own quip.

Gently out of breath, Sephiroth sheathed his sword and met his eyes. Genesis, in turn, held his gaze.

When he looked away, it felt like he had lingered too long...)

“Sephiroth?”

Things...are different. I have...friends now, maybe. But after what happened with Genesis...

(”You’re so...fucking perfect...”)

(”He doesn’t hate you, you know.”)

I hope Angeal is right. I hope Mother is right, too.

Sephiroth cleared his throat, willing himself back into the Director’s office. “Sorry?” he said. “No, I’m...fine. It’s fine.”

Lazard waited for more, but Sephiroth had no more to say. He took the pen laid carefully beside the contract and began to initial each page. Words flashed at him that did not process.

He reached the last page, and Lazard interrupted him. “This is your last chance,” he warned. “Once you sign that last page, you can’t go back.”

Was there any other choice? Sephiroth thought, but kept it to himself.

His hand did pause over the line,

but only for a moment.

In spiked script, he signed Sephiroth Cetra, and dated beside it.

“Very well,” Lazard said. He stood up and reached over to gather the paperwork. “You are officially 1st-class SOLDIER. Congratulations.”

Formality seemed to settle in the office. Sephiroth stood as well. “Thank you, Director.”

“I hope your career is as fruitful as its start.” Lazard stacked the paperwork, then stepped around and shook Sephiroth’s hand. “Barring the most unusual circumstance, we may not cross paths again like this.”

Lazard pulled him gently closer and stared sternly up at him. “I wish you the best of luck.”

Sephiroth stared back. He said he was 1st-class once as well...he knows how this is more than anyone.

(what sword did he use? How much blood has he seen? How many has he killed?)

“Thank you, sir,” Sephiroth said.

Lazard smiled. “You’re dismissed. Tseng will walk you out.”

Sephiroth let go of his hand, and turned to the back of the room. Tseng opened the director’s door, but resumed to a stance with his hands behind his back. As soon as Sephiroth walked through, he trailed behind.

“I will take you back to the 1st’s locker and break room,” Tseng said. “If you have any questions about the Director, I am afraid most of his personal information is classified.”

“I don’t have any questions,” Sephiroth replied, staring straight ahead. “I know all I need to.”

Tseng tilted his head as he called the elevator. “Very well.”

After three grueling months in Wutai, cut down from what was supposed to be six, he was suddenly heralded as a war hero. In hindsight, it was a foolish stunt, really, and he ought to have been killed for it. Investigating an ambush, all by himself? Though even when he tried to think back to the details, his vision blurred, and he felt sick to his stomach.

Pools, pools of blood.

Lazard touched his shoulder, and he started. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Sephiroth nodded. He was behind the curtain in the press room, in a crisp, freshly washed 1st-class uniform, with his hair neat and straight as a board. The press wanted, no, needed to hear from him. Hero at 19, fastest to climb SOLDIER, destroyed an army with just his sword, turned the entire tide of the war from a stalemate to a landslide. This was the fame and recognition he wanted, wasn't it? Even now, all he could think of was his mother at home, turning the channels on the TV to catch his interview.

"Sephiroth," Lazard said again.

"Hm?" He looked at him directly, which he guessed was what he wanted. Lazard was in a navy suit and tie, glasses polished, and blond hair carefully coiffed.

"Everything's written out for you on the teleprompter," he said, his voice mellow and soothing. "You just read what it says. Press is going to be front row, there are going to be a lot of lights, just ignore them. Shinra wants you to smile and wave, but you don't have to--they can come to me if they have any objections."

"Right," Sephiroth mumbled.

Lazard sighed, looking out to the crowd from their still hidden sanctuary. "Something tells me this is more than what you bargained for," he commented. "You look like you want to get this over with."

Sephiroth cocked his head, eyes glazed. "I'm...not sure," he replied. "It's a lot of noise."

He chuckled. "You're damn right it is," he said. "Just get through your speech. Press has to wait until you're done to ask questions, and I can take most of them if you feel uncomfortable. Like I said before: you're here to be a face. Nothing more. Not if you don't want to be."

Sephiroth himself wasn't too sure on that last part yet.

"Ready?" Lazard asked.

Sephiroth hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Yes."

They stepped out onto the stage, and were immediately blinded by camera flashes.

***

The press room was so crowded that Genesis and Angeal were forced to stand at the door. "Jesus Christ, get a load of this," Genesis grumbled. "All for a stupid little song and dance..."

At the front, Sephiroth cleared his throat, and focused his eyes forward. Genesis and Angeal had clear view of the teleprompter, although the view was flipped, and it made it very obvious that's what he was reading from.

"Thank you all for attending this conference," Sephiroth started. "The victory at Garuda Plains was a huge success for Shinra's advancement on Wutai soil..."

Genesis rolled his eyes and shook his head. "What a load of bullshit!" he hissed.

Angeal glanced over to him on the other side of the door frame. "You have been in such a sour mood today, what has gotten into you?" he asked in a hush, careful not to garner attention from the back row. "You know they had that all written out for him--"

"Yeah, fuckin' exactly!" Genesis interrupted, grinding his teeth. "All this 'oh, glory for Shinra' and 'I'm the fuckin' coolest'. He's not gonna even talk about me dragging his ass out of there, or what it feels like to kill somebody."

Angeal looked from Sephiroth's face--glazed and disinterested, now that the stage jitter had worn out of it--over to his friend's twisted in anger. "I get it," he muttered. "You wish that were you up there, don't you?"

"N-no!" Genesis denied. The whine in his voice betrayed the incredibly obvious denial. "It just means he's gonna be a Shinra shill, and they're gonna parade him around and he'll parrot all the bullshit they say! Then he’ll have no time for any of us!”

Angeal hushed him as a couple of heads turned their way. "Will you calm down?" he urged.

"I saved his ass, and this is what he shows for it?" Genesis said. The vitriol began to leak out of his voice like a water balloon popped with a single pin. "I thought he was one of us now, but..."

This isn't all about you, Angeal thought, but kept to himself. He doubted he could get through to him anyway. As if I could convince you of that otherwise...Seph looks miserable up there.

"...And I am here to lead Shinra and SOLDIER as the head commander of our new operation."

The audience roared with question and curiosity, flashes blinding the stage.

"1st-class Cetra, can you tell us more?" a reporter asked above the noise.

"Tell us more about the face behind the hero!"

"Sephiroth, is it true you bested an entire army with only one sword?!"

Genesis bristled, baring his teeth. "I can't fucking listen to this shit," he spat, and stormed out briskly.

"Gen!" Angeal called out for him, but he was ignored.

The audience ignored them both, and as Angeal looked to the stage, it did not appear to register with Sephiroth either, if he was even looking at them at all. It did, however, pique the attention of Lazard, who locked eyes with Angeal. Even at the distance, Angeal recognized the look.

("Well, I do have some good news for you," Lazard said, tapping a stack of paperwork on his desk. "Rhapsodos is not going to be disposed of."

"Oh, thank God," Angeal sighed with relief. "Why, though?"

"I'm sure you've seen him in combat," he said. "He's incredible. Ruthless. We haven't had someone like that on the front lines in a long time."

Angeal's eyes cast downward. "So...he's a tool, then."

"Of course he is. You both are, unfortunately." Lazard folded his arms and sat back in his office chair. "And you're research experiments on top of all of that. I know a "sorry" from me isn't going to mean much, but I do apologize for..."

"No, don't. Just..." Angeal couldn't stand the apologizing--it was one thing about the mess he and Genesis agreed on. "Just don't."

Lazard appeared to understand. "Is the compensation sufficient?" he asked in a low voice.

Angeal shrugged. "Sure, but..."

He paused. Lazard nodded. "I know.")

***

Angeal stayed through the entire conference, even after the press left, and met Sephiroth behind the veil. "Hey, how are you holding up?" he asked.

"That was exhausting," Sephiroth sighed, flicking his bangs out of his eyes with his head. "I don't think I would mind doing clean up duty today..."

Angeal chuckled. "Your days of doing clean up duty are over, my friend. You're 1st now, remember?"

Sephiroth blinked. "Ah. Right, of course..." He shook his head, using his hair to avoid Angeal's curious gaze.

"Don't worry. I know it's a lot," Angeal reassured. "Lazard is good, he can help you handle press and what-not...aw, shit."

Sephiroth looked around. The source of Angeal's grimace was walking down the hall--he could feel the heat from Genesis' face at about ten paces. One could assume he was trying to look collected, but it was a losing battle.

Still, he tried to be cordial. "Genesis. Were you watching the conference?" Sephiroth asked, despite the warning signs.

Genesis' eyes narrowed further, and he crossed his arms. "Congratulations on being Shinra's little whore," he spat. "Your face is going to be everywhere in the next couple days. Mister Fucking Hero."

Sephiroth's mouth opened, and he shut it again, utterly speechless.

"Gen, come on--" Angeal tried, but he was thwarted by Genesis' venomous stare.

"And you being buddy-buddy with him over here. He's just better, isn't he?" Genesis gestured quickly, then pushed between them and stormed through. "Fuck you guys, if you need me ever again, I'll be in the training room."

The angry clack of his platform boots could be heard even as he rounded the corner, even as he went ascending up the stairwell. Angeal pinched the nerve between his eyes. "Sorry about him," he said. "He's in a mood."    

"I..can see that," Sephiroth said, distant and perplexed.

Angeal shook his head. "He'll be fine later, just let him blow off some steam."

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, then tilted his head. "I should go talk to him," he said slowly. "Just..."

"Are you sure?" Angeal asked. Sephiroth's eyes widened--a subtle frown, a crease in his brow. Ah, right. Not everyone's experienced Gen's whirlwinds. His voice became gentle. "He doesn't hate you, you know."

"You think?" Sephiroth questioned.

"Like I said, he'll get over it. Besides," Angeal continued with a smile, "Genesis wouldn't risk his neck out there for just anyone."

Sephiroth looked up, a glimmer of hope in his cyan green eyes. The mako had made them shimmer with irridescence. "Right," he said, "I'll go find him."

Angeal folded his arms as he hurried off. Not the wisest decision, he thought. But if I were in his shoes, wouldn’t I do the same?

I'll have to catch Gen before he leaves to make sure the damage isn't permenant. He doesn't make a scene like this, or go out of his way for anyone, like I told Seph...

Angeal knew perhaps better than most.

(Gunfire was all around them as he laid in a trench, out of sight. The pain in his side was unbearable--even with mako accelerated healing, it would take a while for it to subside. Sweat poured down Angeal's brow. "Gen, just go, go get help--"

"No fuckin' way, and just leave you here?" he said, strained. His voice cracked, and Angeal remembered that they would have graduated high school this year. "They'll find you, and you'll die."

Voices chattered above them. Genesis grabbed at his sword with his right hand and a gun at his left. "Stay out of sight!" he snapped, before leaping out of his hiding spot. More gunfire, the clashing of swords. It blended into a cacophony of sound and flickering light.

Angeal drifted.

When he came to, Genesis was carrying him, an arm around his shoulder as he dragged him through. "3rd-class, you should be on the field still--" a voice said.

"No," he replied. "I won't leave him. I'm making sure he gets back safe."

"I assure you--"

"I'm gonna assure me with my own fuckin' eyes!"

"3rd-class, you will not talk to a superior officer in that tone!"

"Kiss my ass!"

Angeal wheezed a laughing cough. "C'mon, Gen...")

***

Sephiroth left Angeal in the corridor and raced down the SOLDIER halls. Where are the 1st-class training rooms? Do they even have one? They must... His focus kept becoming interrupted by the memory fluttering through his mind.

(It was Genesis's hollering across the desert that broke his fugue.

"Break in! Break in!"

Sephiroth turned slowly. As usual, Genesis was in a red company jacket over his uniform, sword at the ready and the glare of mako in his eyes. "Sephiroth! Seph!" he shouted.

He couldn't will himself to speak. Genesis grabbed him by the shoulders, while other 2nds cascaded in the fight around him, distracting what was left of the army he had taken.

"Jesus Christ," Genesis marveled. He looked around and behind Sephiroth, mentally counting the bodies. Eventually, he gave up and shook him. "You ever think to fuckin' let anyone know before you do this shit?!"

Sephiroth could see himself staring at Genesis. He eventually found his voice. "It was dawn," he uttered.

Genesis's face contorted, then he grabbed him and dragged him back with one arm. "Come on, come on, you're coming back, you've had enough," he muttered. "Damn it!"

"I'm fine," Sephiroth insisted, despite the dead flatness in his voice. "I was...I was..."

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Genesis snapped. He had somehow lifted Sephiroth off the ground completely, his toes barely scraping the ground. "You were surrounded by bayonets and swords and guns, and I don't care what they do to us, you would have lost!"

Genesis coughed, choking on his own ragged breath, but did not slow down.

When the base came into sight, Genesis stopped ten feet away and placed him back on his feet. He held him by his arms. His eyes were watering. "You're one of us now," he said, still choked. For a moment, Sephiroth thought he would say more. Maybe he wanted to.

But, he didn't.

Instead, he shifted gears, as Turks and those out of uniform were beginning to notice their arrival. "Don't give anyone shit. Don't tell 'em anything. They don't deserve it." He sniffled and wiped under his nose. "Let me lead. I'll run interference.")

He finally found the training room and darted inside. Genesis was in the center of the room, gripping his sword so tightly that his fist shook. "Genesis," Sephiroth said.

"Fucker," Genesis responded, spinning on his back heel. "You made me wait! Of course you fucking did!"

He stormed at him, flying forward at an alarming speed. It occurred to Sephiroth that he didn't have a sword on him. He side stepped to avoid the ire of Genesis's blade, then ran to the store room for a blade.

"Get back here!" Genesis roared. "Fight me, damn it!"

He leaned his weight against the door. All that was available to him was a pile of company practice swords. Damn it! I’ve barely had time to consider a personal weapon, now that I’m 1st...

Sephiroth bared his teeth as he rifled through the dull-edged company swords abandoned in a heap. Panic surged through him--these were all junk, junk, in comparison to Genesis's blade. Especially Genesis's blade when its owner was overcome with rage. He wouldn't try to kill me, would he? Sephiroth thought wildly.

"Don't make me wait, you son of a bitch!"

It was difficult to comprehend that this was the same person who had mentored him through SOLDIER training,

("Sephiroth, huh? Not bad..."

"You're pretty good, better than the rest of these shmucks.")

who had dragged him out of one of the most harrowing situations of his life.

("Don't even fuckin' look at him!” He followed him like a hound, snapping at every turned head through the base. “Let him get the fucking blood off him, for Christ's sake!")

The door pounded, rattling on its hinges. "Get out here!"

Finally, finally, he decided on the the least chipped company sword and dragged it out of the pile. With a deep breath, and while it was still, Sephiroth kicked the door back open with his foot. It flung open, smacking against the wall; Genesis had jumped out of the way, although Sephiroth had hoped it would smack him in the face.

"Can't believe you weren't prepared," he huffed, then tossed off his jacket. Hot under the collar. "I expected more of you, 1st-class Sephiroth Cetra."

I was just in a three hour conference? Are you insane? Sephiroth twisted his hands on the grip of his sword. "Genesis, come on..."

Genesis lunged at him, slashing wildly. It took all of Sephiroth's fortitude to meet each blow, blocking with the overused hunk of metal in his hands. The vibration resonated through his whole body, and made his jaw ache. I won't die here, I don't think, Sephiroth thought, desperately trying to reassure himself, I survived that bullshit in Wutai, I can survive anything. But he may give me a concussion...

"It was you! Of course it was going to be you!" Genesis howled, jabbing forward. Every other syllable was punctuated with the clang of metal, arhythmic and aggressive. "You came up and stole the whole fucking show!"

Genesis had nearly pressed him against the wall when Sephiroth found an opening. He knew that a powerful push would leave him wide open, but he had to take the chance. He ducked low, and as Genesis moved to press in, he plowed into his gut, sending him flying backwards.

The rubber on Genesis's platform boots squealed as he skidded backward, but he held his ground. Sephiroth took the opportunity to sprint from the wall and retaliate with a jab and a heavy swing. Genesis met them easily.

"You, you bastard, when you're a monster like the rest of us," Genesis growled. "You think you're better than us, rising all the way to the top! And now you're gonna kiss ass to be Shinra's little golden boy."

"Who said--" Sephiroth grunted, holding his ground. "Who said...who the hell said I was doing any of that?"

He barked out a laugh. "Isn't it obvious? With the interview? The photo ops! Don't play dumb."

"I didn't ask for it!"

"But you love it. All the fucking attention."

Genesis threw an overhead swing squarely at his head. Sephiroth managed to block it, but began to buckle under its weight, despite having the height on him. Has he ever gone all out like this on me? he thought. The metal creaked under pressure. If it weren't for his gloves, his grip would be slipping under the sweat of his hands.

The crazed look was still in his eyes as Genesis continued to pressure him, standing on his toes. "You love it! This is what you've always fucking wanted. I see the pride in your face when anyone praises you."

His tone grew condescending. "And look at all the praise! All hail Sephiroth, savior of Midgar, Shinra...the whole fucking world! An army with one sword! Rrrragh!”

With a final push, Sephiroth's weary sword cracked, and he let go before metal splintered in his face. It clattered to the floor in two pieces. Instead of pressing further with his weapon, Genesis threw it aside and grabbed Sephiroth by the throat.

Sephiroth gasped and tried to pull him away. Genesis kneed him, and breathless, he fell to the ground.

"Of course it would be you! Look at you!" Genesis pinned him down by straddling him, hands around his throat. If his aim was to choke him, Sephiroth thought he wasn't doing a good job--while it was heard to breathe, more of the pressure was on his chest rather his neck.

"Look at you!" Genesis panted again, grimacing. "You're so...you're so...fucking perfect..."

Oddly enough, some of the venom was draining from his face. His grip loosened around his neck and collarbone. And strangely, one hand drifted to Sephiroth's face to caress it.

"If I were you..." Genesis muttered under his breath.

Sephiroth held his own. His heart hammered in his chest, wondering if he should take advantage of...whatever this was.

His muscles tightened, and he stayed frozen.

Genesis grit his teeth, then sat back on Sephiroth's hips, releasing him completely. "Fuck," he whispered, staring at the ceiling. "Fuck."

The spar was over.

Sephiroth could hear every breath both of them took. Dazed, he counted them.

On Genesis's 7th inhale, he stood up and kicked the broken sword aside. He picked up his own sword, sheathing it on his hip, and walked out without another word.

He left Sephiroth staring at the ceiling on the training room floor.

The door slammed shut.

"What the fuck?" Sephiroth said aloud to no one. His mouth was dry, and as he sat up and held out his hands, found they were still shaking. He touched the side of his face where Genesis had caressed it. What the fuck?

Does he hate me, or what?

(”He doesn’t hate you...”)

That would almost be easier. I feel like I'm lucky to be alive...

He slowly rose to his feet, wandering to the exit in a daze. Did he even mean any of that? He sounded so convinced. But had nothing to do with anything I had ever expressed to him.

Except...

("I see the pride in your face when anyone praises you.")

("You're so...fucking perfect...")

("Hey, Seph," he said, grinning as he swung around the cafeteria table. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"I've recommended you for 1st," he replied.

"They...really?" Sephiroth replied. "But I just got promoted to 2nd..."

"I know. But, you're good," Genesis said, leaning in. "Better than any bastard I've seen come through here. It's a no-brainer." He winked at him. "You'll be one of us in no time.")*

He walked automatically through the Shinra building, and didn't recognize that he had left until he was outside. I should...go see Mother, he thought to himself. She won't mind me showing up unannounced. I didn't even sign myself out...hell, I'm still in uniform...

His pager beeped at on his belt, jumping him and spiking his adrenaline. He half expected to hear Lazard come through the tiny speaker, but instead...

"Hey. Sorry about...all that."

His heart jumped. Genesis.

There was a long, heavy pause. "I'll, ah...make it up to you." Another pause. "S-see you tomorrow."

Sephiroth stood in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at his pager. What? He shook his head. I don't...understand it, at all. But at the same time...

...no one has ever done this to me before.

***

At the base camp, Tseng’s eyes darted through the sea of soldier uniform in search of the 1st-class black. There weren’t many here--only the two boys from Banora, Hewley and Rhapsodos. He had a healthy amount of respect for Hewley, as he was well-rounded and responsible, and good with his inferiors.

Rhapsodos, on the other hand...

Angeal Hewley was who he found first. “1st-class Hewley,” Tseng addressed.

Angeal turned with a pleasant look. “Yes, sir--oh, Tseng!” he greeted, then his brow creased. “What’s the matter? Did Gen get into something again?”

“No, but I do need him,” he replied. “Painful as it is for me to admit. We haven’t heard from our scouting group in an hour, and I think they will need a rescue.”

“I see,” he said. “A sting operation.” He nodded, then tilted his head. “Sorry, why do you want him again?”

Tseng sighed. “He’s good enough. And if he does get discovered...he won’t be caught.” He continued to scan the horizon. “No offense to your own ability.”

“None taken,” Angeal replied, folding his arms. “I just hope you’re not just sending him off to get killed.”

Tseng did not reply, only narrowing his slim eyebrows. “You’re on for backup with a group of 2nds if you can spare them.”

He left without confirmation, as his target was in sight.

Genesis Rhapsodos was alone, on a folding chair that looked over the horizon. In one hand was a cigarette, smoking gently, and in the other was a paperback book, place held with his thumb at the spine. His auburn red hair shone in the sun on its way to the western hills.

“1st-class Rhapsodos,” Tseng greeted, more curtly than he had addressed his colleague.

Genesis only flicked his eyes over. “Tseng of the Turks,” he replied, taking a drag off his cigarette. He blew the smoke over his book. “What do you want?”

“I’m deploying you.”

“Great.”

“You are going to infiltrate the southern Wutai base alone. Do not make yourself known. If you do, you must kill whomever spotted you.”

“Southern base?” Genesis continued to stare down at his book. “Didn’t you just send someone there?”

“Yes...” Tseng grimaced. “That is precisely why you’re going.”

Genesis smirked, eyes flicking forward. “So someone needs his powerful, so expertly trained secret service guys rescued?” He folded a corner of the page to mark his place, cigarette between his index and middle finger. “Someone who isn’t afraid to kill?”

“God, please just do this,” Tseng sighed through clenched teeth.

“What’s in it for me?” Genesis clapped the book shut and tossed it on the chair as he rose from his seat. “Or am I just an animal, just in it for the hunt and the bloodshed?”

“This is your job,” Tseng said, eyes piercing. A thousand different venomous comments--such as not that you need it, you spoiled brat and if I knew you would always be this obstinate, I would have splattered your brains in the president’s office--threatened to slip from his lips, but he kept them tightly behind his tongue. Courtesy was part of his job.

“So what, ‘do it or you’re fired?’“ Genesis snickered. “Yeah, yeah...”

He grabbed his sword with his left hand, lying next to his seat, tossed it in the air and caught it behind his back with his right. Then, in nearly the same instant, he thrust it outward, the tip grazing the metal piercing in Tseng’s ear.

Tseng did not flinch.

“I’m a good little Shinra pet, I’ll go do it,” he said. “I want a big bag of weed waiting for me when I get back though.” He closed one eye, admiring the slope of his red blade. “And a fleshlight.”

Tseng wrinkled his nose. “Kidding,” Genesis said, and sheathed his sword. He shook the cigarette he was still holding in Tseng’s face. “Not about the weed, though.”

He took one last drag, blowing the smoke over Tseng’s shoulder, before tossing it in the dirt and smearing it with the toe of his boot.

Tseng shook his head and watched him walk off, stopping to chat with Angeal briefly as well. Bastard, he thought. Unfortunately, he will get the job done. That’s why payroll sends him a check every week.

***

Here it is folks, here’s the time for the burnout to make a comeback. Guess who’s gonna be a hero?

Nah, that ain’t want this is about. This is a couple of Tseng’s new boys getting into trouble, and now the SOLDIER with the sharpest blade has to go bail them out. He still wants it to be a sting. A 1st-class can handle it, right? Sure they can. Most of ‘em got some kind of claim to fame.

It’s quiet out here, way too quiet for occupied territory, but just quiet enough for contentious territory. The jungles are to the east, the south is desert. It’s so fucking flat that I can see the spot that the Turks were trying to go for. No fucking wonder they got spotted--you have to get right up fucking in there to get any cover.

I stop my pace where I am and take a deep breath. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m out of weed right now, but I still want some. The nicotine from earlier is making my head clear, but the buzz is a little unpleasant. No matter. I’ll make this quick. There’s a barrier wall on the western side...if I can dash there, I can get the advantage. Hopefully the dust I kick up will draw their attention, and we can go from there.

I lean my weight on my back foot. Then, I bolt.

I should be wearing those nerd-ass goggles the cyclists wear. Instead, I try to shield my eyes with my arm as I sprint across the desert. The sand kicking up burns my forearm, and my vision darkens at the edges. Nah, “darkens” isn’t the right word, but they haven’t come up with a word for the blue glow mako makes in your eyes when it saturates your bloodstream.

A side effect of the machine they make us.

I manage to stop right before the wall instead of careening into it. The dust bowl follows in my wake, and I press my back against the wall to make myself as flat as possible. I wait until the mako subsides from my vision...my heart rate slows...the rush in my ears fades...

I can hear the guards talking. No waltzing in the front door.

I graze my hand along my belt. I’ve got a couple of guns in my back holster with silencers, just in case. This lets me see the nasty sand burn on my arm I got dashing over here. That’ll heal by the time I get back. Mako, baby.

Okay. I can jump the fence. It’s just over twice my height, so a jump and a climb up the wall should do it. I jump--

“Hey!”

Fuck! One of them went through the perimeter, and here I still fuckin’ was. I don’t bother the climb, but try to land as lightly as possible. As soon as I hit my toes, I run over, sword out, and cut the guy’s throat, covering his mouth. Blood spews out, and I let him fall to the ground with a small thud. There’s one guy, but I can hear footsteps.

Let’s be real here--if Tseng really wanted this to be stealth, there are better SOLDIER to do it, even in the lower ranks. So why me? Well...

I’m quick. I’m good with a sword. And the more red I’m coated in, the more manic I get. I feel like fucking Ash from Evil Dead 2. Groovy. No, what Tseng wanted

was no survivors.

The next guard comes around the corner, and before he can think, there’s a sword in his spine. More blood splatters on my face. I let the flush rise in my face and make me grin.

And thus comes the vermilion scourge.

***

The scuffle had reached the confines of the prison. Rude lifted his head. “Do you hear that?” he muttered.

Reno tilted his head. “Sorry, what?” he said, groaning a little as he twisted his wrists. “Can’t fucking hear you over my brainwaves sending Tseng my last will and testament.”

A breathless panting came from just outside the gate. “Run! Run! He’s coming!” a man said.

“Who?” said another.

But before there was an answer, there was a thud, a wail, a crunch, and another groan. More weight hitting concrete, a splatter. A shot against metal, and then another. Then, silence.

Reno and Rude stared up at the cell door, mouths gently agape.

Genesis kicked open the cell with a clatter. The door swung wide and slammed on the other side.

“Jesus Christ, dude,” Reno marveled, as soon as he could confirm that this blood-covered figure was a friend and not a foe.

Genesis shook his hand--his leather gloves were soaked in blood--then took off one glove and wiped under his nose and mouth with the back of his clean hand. When he put his glove back on and squeezed it, it dripped. He slicked his hair back, revealing his forehead, then strode over to the captive Turks.

“Party’s over,” he grunted. He bent over to the wrist restraints (Reno’s behind-the-back lock picking efforts had proven fruitless), and pulled the metal apart with both hands. “Let’s go.”

Reno rubbed his wrists as he stood up, staring at Genesis. “Un-fucking-real,” he breathed while Rude helped him out of his foot restraints. “That’s SOLDIER strength, huh? Pry open steel, just like that?”

“I’m not even the strongest,” Genesis said. “Ange is stronger than me, that’s why he has that huge fuck-you sword.” He reached into his pockets and fished out two wires with earpieces attached. “Got these for you. Tell the boss the job’s done and we’re on our way back.”

Rude nodded as he took his and slipped it in his ear, routing it around his collar effortlessly. He winced as static could be heard even from a distance, but it settled in. “Tseng, can you read?” he said.

Reno turned his attention to Genesis, who had his hands on his hips and was staring into space. “So, what’s the plan? Have we got guys tailing us or what?” he asked.

Genesis shook his head. “All taken care of,” he said, then sighed deeply as he absently reached into his pocket. “’My soul, corrupted by vengeance, hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey in my own salvation...”

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, but the one he pulled out was also covered in blood, enough to make his lip curl. “Fuck,” he cursed. He tossed the whole pack on the ground and crushed it with his heel. “Let’s go, c’mon, let’s go.”

Reno and Rude exchanged a look, and then followed Genesis out of the stronghold. Reno forced himself to keep his eyes forward, not to look at the ground, to ignore every wet footstep, the occasional squelch of skin and blood against cement,

the smell...

“Ugh,” Rude grunted. His grimace seemed to flatten the front of his face to hold everything back.

Reno held his nose, covering his mouth with the rest of his palm. Eyes forward. Genesis seemed unfazed. He did kill them, after all. Shit...

Wind roared across the desert as they exited. “Aw man, not even a transport back for us?” Reno complained. “You’re gonna make us hoof it?”

“Do you think I’m fuckin’ stupid?” Genesis replied, spinning around to them on one heel. “There’s nothing for miles, I would’ve been caught dead.”

“You could’ve had one sent in.”

“Reno,” Rude said. He pointed over the horizon, and sure enough, a Shinra truck was barrelling down the desert. “I called it in once we were clear.”

“Good,” Reno replied, crossing his arms. “At least someone here has some sense.”

Genesis’s eyes were toward the sun, dust settling and sticking to the drying blood all over his body. He said nothing.

***

It’s been an hour since Gen got back with those Turks. Covered in blood. He shed his uniform through the camp and disappeared to the shower. I haven’t seen him since...

...judging by the running water, I can expect he’s still in there.

I knock on the door. “Hey. It’s me.”

Silence. Well, not quite. I can hear hitched breathing.

“C’mon, Gen. You’re going to wrinkle up like a prune in there before long.”

Still nothing, no reply.

I don’t want to drag him out of there. But he needs somebody. I can only imagine the horror he induced. Bodies everywhere, blood on the floor. A terror, a scourge. Gen can be dangerous, and I think this time he didn’t hold anything back.

“...monster...”

I hear him mutter. “Gen, please. I’ll...help you out. I’ve got a clean uniform and towels out here for you--”

“Go away!”

All right. It’ll have to be this way. I strip off my boots, towel in one arm, and pull open the curtain.

He’s on his knees in the shower, cold water pouring over him. Even if I didn’t know his preference for cold showers, the hot water would have run out ages ago. He’s scrubbing at his arms, pink from irritation. His damp hair is slicked back, revealing the strain in his face.

He whines, growling in the back of his throat. “It won’t come off,” he says. “The blood, it won’t...it won’t...”

I gingerly twist the knob to turn off the water. Then, I drape the dry towel over his shoulders. He’s shivering, and when he looks up at me, his lips are tinged blue. “Why? Why?” he says. “I’m just...I’m not...I--”

“It’s okay.” It probably wasn’t. I’m sure him and Tseng will get reprimanded for the loss of life on the battlefield. But it’s Wutai, so who cares? “Let’s go.”

“I’m a monster,” he mutters, eyes unfocused, that deep blue that swims in mako. “I’m really a monster. They told me to kill and I did it. I saw red. Red. Red.”

I help him stand up and walk him out of the shower. “We’re just their pawns,” he continues on, shivering more violently now. “My soul hath corrupted by vengeance--”

“Shh,” I hush him. I take him over to the cot and find another towel to wrap him in.

“What redemption is left?” he says. “What’s left? What’s left? Nothing...just this beast who can pierce...h-heart after heart...blood and more blood...”

He’s rambling. I don’t know what I can do for him, not in the long term. Instead, I look for more blankets. There are some stored under the bed. I push him down and cover him.

“Angeal?” he says weakly.

I pause. “What is it?”

Now he looks tired. So tired. Tears still leak from his eyes. “What’s that thing...you tell all the 2nds?”

Huh? Oh...my little speech. “Embrace your dreams, and protect your honor as SOLDIER, you mean?”

He smirks. “Right,” he replies. He seems to be settling in a little bit... “Do you think I’ve got any left?”

I tilt my head. “Maybe,” I say. “More than none.”

He takes in a deep breath. “Better than nothing.”

Gen closes his eyes--his lips are normal again, and for good measure, I pile on a couple more blankets. What are you supposed to do for hypothermia? Not that he has it, but...

Ah, right.

I look around, then strip down to my boxers. Hopefully no one will call on me for the next couple hours. I lift all the blankets, and carefully slide under with him.

His body is still chilly, and he immediately spoons into me. He’ll wake up after this, and pretend that nothing happened. Maybe he’ll ask to end his tour early, but I doubt it. He’ll be fine, then he’ll get high again, and it’ll all come back. Day by day, it’ll subside.

That’s how it went the last time, in the labs.

And just like then, I’ll be here for him.

Zack yelped and jumped back into attention, arms straight at his side. Angeal stood before him, arms crossed, but with an eyebrow raised and a smile attempting to tug at his lips. “I thought you’d want to take an earlier shift,” he remarked. “It’s past 11, you’re not going to get out ‘til around 8.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I made a little reservation for Aerith and I,” Zack said. “She’s busy today too with the flower shop, y’know.” A dreamy look crossed his face. “Besides, it means we could sleep in, and then we could fool around--”

“That’s enough, hotshot,” Angeal interrupted. He coaxed him into the elevator, along with several other Shinra administrators who piled themselves in.

Being as big as he was, Zack instinctively tried to smush himself into the back corner. By the time Angeal noticed, he was already a tree in the forest of suits, albeit a very tall one. “Zack, we’re only going to the third floor,” he said.

“What?” He looked around. “Oh damn, I forgot.”

Angeal snorted and shook his head. “You’ll get it right when you’re officially 1st-class. That, or you’ll be 5 minutes late every morning.”

The elevator pinged, and as Angeal stepped out, he gestured to the crowded elevator. “Sorry folks. Make way.”

Zack held his arms at shoulder level and shimmied through. “‘S’cuse me, pardon me, oops, sorry guys! Happy Valentine’s day, sorry, sorry...”

He stumbled a little as he cleared the elevator, and had to jog to catch up with Angeal. “Yeah, anyway, she’s gotta deal with all the people getting off work getting last minute roses for their sweethearts, so it wouldn’t have been any better. Besides, it’s easier to get reservations later. We picked out a nice little spot up above Sector 4...”

“Mmhm.” Angeal opened the door to the 1sts break room, and stopped dead short. “What the hell?” he exclaimed. “Oh boy...”

“Whoa! Look at all this!” Zack marveled.

On the center table was four huge bouquets of roses, a dozen each. Two of them were wrapped in blue cellophane, and the other two in black. All of them were wrapped in red and white ribbons, and two bottles of red wine sat in the center.

Zack circled the table and took a closer peek at the bouquets. The blue wrapped ones had white baby’s breath intermingled with the roses, and the black wrapped ones had a single black rose in the center. “Wow! Looks like someone’s got admirers!” he proclaimed.

They were tagged, and Zack read each of them out loud. “‘For Sephiroth’...and ‘For Angeal’.” He perked up and grinned. “Hey, hey, I didn’t know you were seeing someone!”

“I’m not,” Angeal replied flatly.

Zack deflated. “O-oh. Well, looks like you’ve got a secret admirer!” He inhaled deeply. “And you like flowers, right?”

“Right...”

Footsteps down the hall and around the corner manifested Sephiroth in a hurry. “There you are,” he said to Angeal. “I wanted to ask--” His eyes flicked into the room, and he paused.

“Yes?” Angeal prompted.

Sephiroth shook his head. “What the fuck is all this?”

“Happy Valentine’s day,” he said. “You’re telling me this is the first time you’ve seen this?”

Sephiroth took measured steps into the break room. “Yes,” he said. “Who put this down here? Anything that comes from my fan club goes into the office on the 32nd floor.”

Zack’s jaw dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I am a minor celebrity, it goes without question,” he dismissed. “This is...different.”

Zack rolled his eyes. “Well jeez, Mr. Popular, looks like you’ve got a secret admirer on the inside, I guess.” He picked up one of the wine bottles. “Is this dumbapple wine? Vintage, too...”

Suddenly, Sephiroth jerked his head up to stare at Angeal, then squinted. Angeal nodded. “He’s late this year, his florist must have been backed up. Usually everything’s here first thing in the morning.”

Sephiroth sighed and looked at the card attached to his bouquets, then dropped it. “Bastard,” he hissed. “Where is he?”

“Training room, probably,” Angeal replied.

His lip curled, then he hurried out, bumping into Angeal in the process. The angry thwack of his boots echoed down the hall, and even in the stairwell going up. “He’s in for it now,” Angeal muttered.

Zack scratched his head. “Hey, am I missing something? Do you know what all this is about?”

“You know someone who’s more romantic than they seem?” Angeal posed. “Well, maybe ‘romantic’ isn’t the word--”

“Who?”

“Genesis Rhapsodos.”

Zack shook his head and stared. “What? These are from him?!”

“Uh-huh. He’s been doing this to me for a while. First it was a small bouquet. Then a dozen roses. Now two dozen and a fucking bottle of wine.” He scooped up the flowers in his arms and moved them over to the countertop near the sink. He came back to the table to look a little closer at the bottle. “I do like this one, though.”

The gears turned in Zack’s head. “Is it ‘cause...you guys have been friends for so long?” He tilted his head. “Well, then if he got them for Sephiroth too...I guess they’ve known each other for a while now, huh?”

Angeal opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Sure,” he replied, a little resigned. “Y’know, before this, he’s probably just lumped his gifts to Seph with whatever his fan club brings in. I’m surprised it took him this long to give them to him directly.”

“Kinda wanna ask how you know for sure--”

“Oh, please, he’s hardly subtle when you ask him about it,” Angeal said, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure he might try to hide it if he were sober, but he’s usually not, so he just grins like an idiot.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

Zack stood with his hands on his hips in thought for a minute, then stared at the ceiling. “Is Genesis gay?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Angeal replied. “C’mon, pup, you’ve barely taken your coat off. We’ve got work to do.”

“Okay, okay.”

Zack shrugged and headed out the back door of the breakroom, toward the lockers. When Angeal could hear him shuffling off his things (and humming to himself, to his amusement), he pulled out his pager. “Thanks for the flowers, idiot,” he muttered into the speaker. “Happy Valentine’s day to you, too.”

***

Sephiroth burst into the 1st’s training room, slamming the door back against the wall. He found Genesis lazily sparring with a target dummy, although his grip on his rapier was so light it barely balanced in his hand. “Oh, hey, man,” he said, eyes barely open. “What’s up? What’s new. What’s goin’ on?”

“How are you stoned? It’s barely noon!” he huffed, stomping over to him. “What was all that shit down in the break room?”

“Huh? Oh that? What’d you get?” Genesis giggled and stuck his sword into the ground, leaning forward on it. “Get some floooowers? It’s Valentine’s daaay...”

“Yes, yes I know that!” He gripped the top of Genesis’ head with his whole palm to keep him from weaving back and forth. “That’s why all of my gifts are directed to the 32nd floor office!”

“Oh yeah, so you can admire eeeeverything all at once,” Genesis snickered. “All your adoooring fans who love you so much! Oh please, Sephiroth, please spit on me!“

He was tempted to, but found the restraint inside him to refrain. “So why did you think to get all that shit and put it downstairs?!”

“‘Cause I wanted to,” he said, opening his eyes enough to stare right at him. “I wanted to...to...haha, I wanted you to see it. I wanted you to look at it. Look right at it!”

Genesis pushed himself up and away from Sephiroth’s grip. He stood straight and stretched, sword high above his head, and then dropped his arms down...along with his sword. It clattered on the ground, abandoned. Like a puppet with its strings cut, Genesis stood in front of Sephiroth, limp and loose.

“Yeah...I know you just like to get that stuff,” he said, “but then you throw it all away. I know you do. You don’t take that shit home. ‘Cause you...haha, you don’t care. Like, really.”

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes.

“I thought that maybe...maybe! If you just like, saw the shit...and I got a lot...you’d be like...’damn, that guy sees me’...” Genesis wiped a hand over his face, then started to giggle uncontrollably. “Oh fuck! Fuck I maybe...maybe had a fucking second bowl...”

Sephiroth breathed deeply. He liked the admiration he got from his claim to fame, despite being somewhat of a recluse. It was good to be fully recognized for the power he had all along. It was better than being ignored and rejected for most of his childhood. But this was something different. Here, this man was standing in front of him saying, I see you, but I want you to see me too.

Notice me like I notice you. Admire me like I admire you.

He wondered if he had this thought before, in moments when he was less sober. It was irrelevant. He tapped Genesis’ shoulder, shaking him out of his stupor.

“Huh? What,” he said, in an oddly deep voice.

“Thank you,” Sephiroth said. “For...all of that.”

Genesis’ head lolled onto one shoulder, grinning. “Sure,” he said. “Hey, hey you wanna...come over? Tonight? Come over. Come over and smoke. I’ll split that wine with you.”

“Sure.” It was agreeable. While he didn’t enjoy being as...foolish as Genesis was now, he did enjoy freeing himself where he didn’t have to think. That way, he wouldn’t have to think further about why his friend and colleague had given him two dozen roses and a bottle of wine for Valentine’s day.

Genesis’ pager beeped at his belt. “Oh, oh yeah, I think I got...I got like ten messages,” he said, picking it up. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Oh fuck. I should do something about that.”

“You should,” Sephiroth sighed, then smacked his forehead. “Oh, damn it. I meant to ask Angeal something while I was down there, and then your...extravagance distracted me.”

Genesis stuck his tongue out. “What’d Angeal think of his gift?”

“It seemed like he expected it.”

“Yeah...yeah. That’s about right.” Genesis grabbed his pager from his belt, and seemed to acquire some more clarity. “All right. Let’s see...”

Sephiroth turned on his heel. I’ve watched Angeal reject Genesis outright, he thought to himself. I suppose I do as well. But, it’s not the same. I’m still going over to his place to smoke and do...whatever else. Why is that?

Why...is that.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, coughing smoke.

The boy didn't react. He was lanky, but soft in his face, lightly freckled with some acne on his cheeks. His hair was just grown out of a haircut and shone copper in the afternoon sun. He seemed bored. A pack of cigarettes stuck out of his shorts pocket.

"Hey...hey, kid," the tallest man said, his voice already a little lazy. "You shouldn't be hanging around out here."

The boy looked around. "Why?" he asked.

The stout man jabbed his colleague and hissed through his teeth. "You idiot, that's the Rhapsodos' kid! It's his fucking farm!"

The tallest blinked, wide eyed, while the boy smirked. He then sniffed the air, and his eyes darted around--from the smoke, down to the mens' hands. "What is that?" he asked. "That's not--" His voice cracked, and he paused to clear it. "That's not cigarette smoke."

"Sure it isn't," the stout man said quickly. "Listen, we've gotta get back to work--"

"Can I have some?" he asked.

"Listen, kid...Genesis, right?" the tallest man said. "You're too...too young to do this kind of shi--stuff. How old are you, like...twelve? Thirteen?"

Genesis didn't answer. He continued to stare at them. Then, he pulled out a cigarette from his pack, revealing that it was already half empty. From his other pocket, he drew a silver flip-top lighter, engraved with an apple. He lit it, and took a quick puff without coughing.

"Uh," said the stout man.

"Can I have some?" Genesis asked again. "I won't tell anyone."

The two men looked at each other, each reluctant to give in. In their hesitation, Genesis rolled his eyes and groaned, pulling his wallet out. "Fuck's sake," he mumbled, cigarette still in his mouth. He pulled out a crisp, 100 dollar bill and thrust it out at them. "Can I. Have some."

This was too much to pass up. The tall man sighed. "And you're not gonna rat us out?"

"I won't," he replied.

The tall man took the cash, and handed him a blunt from his back pocket. "This is all I've got, okay?" he said. "And don't just suck it down like a butt. Make it count."

"Sure," Genesis said. He examined it, then put it in with his remaining cigarettes. "Thanks."

And he left.

"Fuck," the tall man muttered. "I feel like I need to go to confession after this."

"It's your funeral," the stout man sighed. "C'mon, let's go back to it before some other brat comes around."

***

The next week, Genesis came back around to the same spot around the same time. "You're here again?" the tall man said, his face falling. "Don't tell me..."

"That stuff was unreal," Genesis said. "Do you have any more?"

"Look, kid, I ain't gonna be your dealer. Go find someone else." He crossed his arms. "Last thing I want is to get fired because I'm selling weed to the estate's kid."

"I'll pay you," Genesis said. "Extra, even. I don't care."

There was something about the way he was asking that made the tall man uneasy. It wasn't suspicion that he was going to be found out. It was the thought that this boy--this teenager--had found something he really liked for the first time. And wanted more.

"Do you have a pen?" the tall man said, after deliberating. "I have a guy. I'll give you his number."

***

The next time the workers saw him, it was mid-September. They spotted Genesis under one of the far apple trees, sitting beside his backpack and what looked like some kind of guitar case. Smoke rose above the leaves and hung there in the lingering late-summer heat.

***

Two years passed.

The school bus roared past down on the road below, and one student got out. He walked up the hill, his backpack on one shoulder, a bass guitar case on the other. As soon as he crossed the gate into the apple orchard, he took out his lighter, fumbled a blunt into his mouth, and lit it, all while still walking.

As smoke filtered through his mouth, he sighed deeply. "Ah," he said to himself. "Now that's--oof!"

Not watching where he was walking, Genesis ran straight into the tall man, nearly toppling him and his barrel of apples.

"Jesus, watch where you're walking!" he exclaimed. The stout man was not far behind. "Oh, it's you..."

"Huh?" Genesis said, and shook his head. "Oh yeah. What's up?"

The stout man sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "Kept up with it, huh?"

Genesis smirked, lazy and content. "Uh-huh. It's good shit."

The tall man watched him weave in place and frowned, but before he could say anything, Genesis pointed at him. "You're gonna tell me I'm wasting my life, huh? Gonna try and be my dad, old man?"

He scoffed. "I can tell you were stoned when you stepped off the bus down there. You--"

"You guys..." Genesis laughed a little bit, then straightened up. His eyes were red around the rim, but his stare was like lead. "You don't know anything, do you?"

He slid his bass on one shoulder, backpack on the other. "It doesn't really matter what I do, y'know?" he continued. "I'm adopted. My first cousin's getting the company. They decided last week in some shitty board meeting. They know I'm a deadbeat, but they won't disinherit me 'cause it's bad press." He started to smile, but there was no humor in it. "So they're gonna wait 'til I graduate and see what to do with me. Maybe they'll send me to some business school in Midgar to try and straighten me out. Maybe I'll be out here like you, breaking my back and picking apples, doing some work for a fuckin' change. Or maybe they’ll ship me off to Wutai so I can get shot. Who knows!"

The men had nothing to say, and Genesis knew it.

"Everyone thought I was gonna be the next big thing, after doing those apple juice commercials as a kid. Gonna be an actor, gonna be a star. I wanted to be some kind of star, some kind of hero. But there was no one around to hear it. I was supposed to pull myself up by my own ass and do it, when no one even looked at me. So I stopped caring. Then everyone could stop pretending I was gonna be something."

Their jaws had dropped. Suddenly, Genesis looked to the side, a touch sheepish. He had said too much.

"Anyway, I'm just gonna coast," he finished with a shrug. "No sense trying anymore. And if this shit makes me feel better, then I'm gonna milk it for all it's worth."

He held the blunt back up to his face, and twirled it between his fingers. He brought to his lips and inhaled deep. A moment later, he felt peace. The workers in front of him were just some guys, after all. Don't need to worry about them.

Genesis raised his hand in a half wave, their faces a blur of smoke. "Later." With that, he continued into the orchard with an uneven gait.

*** In the early morning, dew clung to the ripened Banora white apples, glittering like frost in the sunrise. Genesis slept peacefully under the apple tree, his school things abandoned beside him.

"Hey, are you all right?"

A voice from the outside world. He wanted to let it pass, but its owner shook him by the shoulders.

"Hello? Hey, wake up!"

That was enough to drag him out. Genesis blearily opened one eye. A handsome, rugged built youth, his age, knelt in front of him. Worry was in his soft brown eyes, but they soon flooded with relief. "Thank God! You're all right," he said. He sniffed, and his jaw tightened. "Jeez, you smell like skunk, though..."

Genesis knew this boy. As he was still a little stoned, he had a hard time placing where. "You're freezing, dude, were you out here all night?" the boy asked, patting down Genesis' bare arms. "You keep doing this and you're gonna look just like a Banora white."

He straightened Genesis up against the tree, and it shook enough to drop an apple on the ground. "Oop!" he exclaimed, and grabbed it with surprising dexterity. Genesis watched his shirt strain under his reach. "Here..."

He rested it in his lap. Genesis hadn't moved. "You're...the drummer," he said slowly. "In...jazz club?"

"Yeah, good job," he replied sarcastically. "Don't remember my name, huh?"

"A...Angel?" Genesis' eyelids fluttered. A brief flash of clarity flooded him. "No, it's uh..." "Angeal," he corrected. "Close though. And you're Genesis."

This struck Genesis as wildly funny. He began to laugh in a wheezing way that hissed out of the back of his throat. "Oh, shit!" he said, doubling over. "I sure am!"

Angeal rolled his eyes and hauled him up beneath his arm. "Oh my God," he groaned. "Come on, we're gonna be late. I can take your bags..."

"You can? You'd do that? For me?" He was still laughing, but the sentence that spilled out of his mouth took him by surprise, and was offended that he couldn't take it back. "No, no gimme my bass...I'll take it..."

Angeal handed him his bass, while he carried both his own backpack and Genesis' on each shoulder. Genesis held the apple Angeal handed him in one hand, mesmerized by it. As they started walking, he took a bite, and the texture and flavor overwhelmed him. "Shit, this is the best apple I've ever had," he marveled.

Angeal snorted. "Bet it is," he said with a sigh.

Genesis stared at him, wide-eyed. He didn't know if he'd ever looked at him before--really looked at him. He was always sitting in the background, always the backbeat. Angeal met his eye and cocked his head. "What?"

Genesis' heart thrummed, in a way he'd never really, truly experienced before. It was different than a good high, and made his head rush. "Nothing," he said, and reached over to him with apple in hand. "Want some?"

Sephiroth slowly looked to him and frowned with a curl of his lip. “Why…why do you have to call me that,” he muttered. One may have thought he was sober, but Genesis knew better. The quip was slow and delayed, like syrup, and he had to prop himself up with one hand to stay upright.

Genesis grinned wider and leered over him, enjoying his extra leverage. “I dunno, I like it,” he said. “What, you want me to…you want me to call you something else?”

Normally, the reply would be simply “no”. But tonight… “Like what?” Sephiroth entertained.

Genesis let the sentence hang, watching some regret dance in his eyes. He relished it. “Oh, I dunno,” he continued, drumming his fingers on his shoulder. “Baby?”

Sephiroth’s face crinkled as if he had smelled a dead rat.

“Honey?” Genesis continued.

His expression stayed, but it somehow…seemed to soften. Genesis felt his shoulders droop a little, and he loomed closer, his bangs hanging in Sephiroth’s face. “Lover?” he said, quieter this time.

He didn’t quite know what it was, but Genesis felt as if his body was going to melt. His forehead touched Sephiroth’s, and as fluid as a dance, Sephiroth tilted his face up to meet his, and they kissed. Again. And again. And again…

…until Genesis started to giggle. “Hmm,” he hummed into his lips. “Do you like that one?” He paused to breathe, and he shivered once more. He thought maybe he could go again. “Lover?”

“Nnn.” Sephiroth’s fingertips flinched and tried to shake his head. “It’s just…it’s…it’s right now.”

They kissed some more. “Huh?” Genesis asked, delayed.

“Right now,” Sephiroth tried again, trying to talk against his lips. “Right now…it’s…it’s okay. But, but…you know…”

Genesis found it fascinating how Sephiroth’s normally direct speech wandered under the influence. He didn’t mind—it was more of an opportunity to hear that low rumble. He felt as if it vibrated his very soul. So, he hung on every word.

Sephiroth looked at him in the eyes, and it briefly brought him back down to the present. “Say my name,” he finally managed to say. He reached up to place both of his hands on Genesis’ face, and shifted his body weight to match.

The sensation of his hands on his face made Genesis dizzy, and he felt as if he were falling into a trance. “Seph,” he breathed. His outer vision blurred, and Sephiroth’s eyes were the only thing he could see. “Seph…Sephiroth…”

Sephiroth gripped his face harder and they kissed again, both moaning into each other’s mouths in a lazy harmony. Their balance soon tipped, and Sephiroth pushed Genesis back onto his beanbag chair, pressing his chest against his. Moments before, Sephiroth didn’t seem to have the energy to sit up, but now he was aggressive, threatening to consume Genesis’ very being…

…and he would let him, too.

“Gen,” Sephiroth growled, gasping for air, “Gen, Genesis, Gen…”

With one final gasp, Sephiroth slumped back down, his full weight on top of Genesis’ chest. Genesis stared at the ceiling, idly stroking Sephiroth’s hair. A wave passed over him. He thought that if he died right here, he could make peace with it. He could feel Sephiroth’s heartbeat through his fingertips, a pulse accompanying the soft sensation of his long, silver hair. It was so intense that he could feel it in his mouth.

“Ah…” he murmured.

Ten minutes passed before Sephiroth found himself again. “You should shower,” he said.

“We were gonna do that,” Genesis mumbled. He thought he had fallen asleep. He thought ten hours had passed. He thought he had entered a place where time did not exist. The Goddess’ haven. Nirvana. Heaven.

Reluctantly, he blinked, and came back to his apartment. Reluctantly, he let Sephiroth help him up and guide him to the shower.

***

In the 1st’s breakroom, Sephiroth was already making coffee by the time Genesis arrived. “Morning,” he greeted.

Sephiroth barely turned around from the pot. “You made it,” he said. “I half expected you to call out.”

Genesis scowled at his back. Granted, he was still high when he woke up, but it was akin to the light buzz he kept going most days, so he made the decision to ride it out. Despite his reputation, he only called out when he was fused to the bed. “I can be responsible,” he chose to respond.

Sephiroth snorted. “Doubtful,” he replied.

He sighed as he turned around with a hot mug full of black coffee, and Genesis was struck with those bright, blue-green eyes once again. It threatened to knock the wind out of him, recalling the growling, and the kissing…he bit his lip in spite of himself.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Genesis shook his head. “What do you remember from last night?” he asked.

Sephiroth looked down into his coffee. “Some things.”

He breathed slowly and carefully, and Genesis watched him. How many roles had they played? They were teacher and student, once, but not for long. Then they were rivals, as Genesis watched Sephiroth reach his level faster than he did. They were colleagues, always. But somewhere along the line, Genesis began to learn about what made Sephiroth tick, and they became friends. Genesis knew how to stroke his ego. Sephiroth knew how to challenge him.

There was something else, though. Genesis was a fool, but he was not stupid by any means. It was something he kept very close to his chest, and even entertaining it now, in the break room before drills, was nearly too much to bear. If he acknowledged it fully, it would become real, and he would ruin it. It had happened before. It wouldn’t happen again.

Genesis tilted his head. Not on his watch.

A head full of spiky black hair poked through the door. “Eyy, what’s happening, guys? Happy hump day.” It was Zack Fair, 2nd-class and oblivious. Well, maybe not quite, as his uncanny 7 AM cheer deflated as he surveyed the room. “Everything okay in here?”

“Fair, what the hell are you doing down here? 2nds are starting upstairs,” Genesis replied crossly.

“Jeez, morning ain’t great for you, is it?” Zack scoffed. “I was just looking for Angeal…”

“He’s probably already up there,” he said. “You didn’t page him?”

“I did, but he’s not answering.” He bounced on his toes and huffed. “Fine, I’ll go look.”

He jogged off, and Sephiroth took a long drink of his coffee. “I’ll be off too,” he said, resting his coffee mug in the sink.

He glided past Genesis, barely brushing by, and he caught a wiff of his hair as he sauntered down the hallway. The floral scent lingered in Genesis’ nose in the same way that the clack of his boots resonated in his ears, in the same way his face lingered in his mind’s eye.

He sighed deeply and covered his mouth with a gloved hand. Of course, he knew what it all was. His feelings were bubbling to the surface, and he found that he desperately needed a cigarette.