Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Purgatory ❯ If I Needed Someone ( Chapter 4 )

Without the heart, there can be no understanding between the hand and the mind.

--Thea von Harbou

Adur'rta, that was the name of the forest in which Sephiroth wandered. Though it really wasn't a forest at all but a bridge between planes of existence. It merely took this form for the one who wandered it wished it to be so. This bridge was one of many and each had a name. Adur'rta had been assigned as a bridge between purgatory and the planet's heart. It had been used in years past to usher redeemed souls back into the lifestream to be reincarnated. However, Sephiroth was not ready yet to receive such redemption. He was taken here to continue what one low-level cherubim had begun, in hopes of salvaging his soul.

There are many paths one could take on the road to redemption and it was with purpose that the cherubim had chosen this one. Its name was at the heart of her choice. Adur was in used in the celestial tongue to indicate a spiritual force that unites. Rta had many meanings, though in the simplest of terms it was the celestial word for path. In celestial philosophy, Rta was the path all beings strove to take. It represented the cosmic forces of the universe; the sun rises and sets because it follows this path, the river flows, children are born...all because they follow Rta, the path of life. The path of truth.

Sephiroth knew none of this but he did sense that the power that led him here had deigned to answer him. He was unsure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, he did want to know why he was brought here. It was obvious to him that this place was sacred, too pure for one such as he. He did not belong and instinctively he knew this. Still, he was curious, what could they tell him now that he didn't know already and why would they bring an abomination like him to what was obviously holy ground? The promise of finally finding answers for all of his questions was tempting. To at last know, what he was, who his parents were...it was beyond tempting, it was something he wanted, needed. At the same time, he'd learned from bitter experience that knowledge comes with a price. Answers he might get, but would they be the truth? How could he possibly trust that whoever or whatever sent him here was not just lying to him as Jenova had? The answer was, of course, that he could not be sure nor would he trust what he was told and it dissatisfied him.

So it was with wonder and trepidation that he watched as the forest around him ripple. What he took for reality was undulating like the surface of a pond after a stone had been thrown in. From formless darkness ebbed a pinprick of light. It reached out for him, twisting rivulets of light engulfing him--lapping over his form like a crashing tidal wave. An eternity seemed to pass and he was lost within the deluge. Surrounded by chiming voices that sang to him with words he could not comprehend, yet he longed to understand. They soothed him, lent him a kind of peace he never even knew existed and if he could only comprehend the words, those voices would impart to him limitless wisdom. In the back of his mind he perceived that someone like him hardly deserved to hear this song. It was by unknown grace that he'd been allowed to listen and he was grateful of it. For an ignorant fool such as he, this was more than he could hope for and all that he could ask.

This journey did not last long and soon he was ripped away from the planet's pleasant melody. The light receded as quickly as it had arrived, leaving him dazed and momentarily blinded. Blinking away the shadowed spots that blurred his vision, he started. He was still in that damnable forest, and now he wasn't alone. In the distance was a woman, her back turned to him. Sephiroth could feel his stomach sinking. It was bad enough that heaven played games with him. Sending him on pointless journeys, plaguing him with unwanted memory and in general fucking with his mind. Now they would send some phantom, a specter from his past to torment and abuse him. The lake of fire never seemed more inviting. With a resigned sigh, he dug in and prepared for the worst.

The woman turned and Sephiroth made every effort not to acknowledge she was there. She came closer and through lidded eyes, he watched her approach. His outward show of cold indifference was a shameless facade and though he'd never admit it, he was actually nervous. There were many people he'd killed over the years. He'd made a habit of not memorizing individual kills; rather, he kept the memories blurred. Jenova had once helped in that regard and with great bitterness he knew that she was also the reason he killed so wantonly. With her gone he was afraid of remembering. Terrified to confront what he'd done.

He wasn't a killer, the man he was before had never enjoyed it. Had only killed when he had to. During his days as a general he'd reduce his memories of battle to a blur of images. Like a movie on fast forward, his memory would fly by--one image unrecognizable from the next. It was easier that way because to slow it down, he'd have to see the death in his victim's eyes. He'd have to look upon the lives he destroyed and acknowledge them as beings whose futures he'd taken away.

"Sephiroth?"

Something in the way she said his name made him turn his head. He didn't want to see her, didn't want to have gaze on an innocent victim of his own stupidity. It was now too late. She was an older woman, perhaps in her late thirties, early forties. Of medium height with long dark hair that was pulled back into a tight bun, held in place by a black lacquered clasp. Her heart shaped face was wide and guarded in expression; eyes of cool jade, much like his own, gazed back at him behind a thin pair of glasses. The woman reminded him of any number of lab assistants he knew from his youth in Shinra. Though she was not dressed in the hospital scrubs so typical of her kind. Instead, she sported a simple kimono. Bright gold and orange maple leaves embroidered onto the smooth silk, contrasting with the dark plum of the fabric.

A wash of guilt hit him as he realized he didn't recognize her. He'd killed that many people. Hardening his gaze, he didn't allow it to show. The woman smiled, oblivious to the discomfort she was causing him, ignoring his harsh glares. He paused, surprised by her reaction. This was not the attitude of a victim. There was no accusation, no bitter recrimination. There was relief on the woman's face and something else, something he was unused to seeing on another person's face when looking upon him. Was she glad to see him? He was becoming uneasy, the feeling increasing with each minute he spent in here.

Nothing about this place made any sense, whatsoever. Just when he thought he had it figured out, when he perceived some sort of predictability, everything would change. Leaving him unfocused and constantly unbalanced. He hated the intangible. Hated it because everything about himself was intangible. His heritage, his family. All of it was intangible, a cold case that would never get solved. Left to rot in a cardboard box in some warehouse somewhere, while he waited for answers. He'd had enough of intangibility, this place only added to the mystery and he certainly didn't appreciate it.

This warmly smiling wraith was unwelcome and he wanted nothing to do with her, or this unreality. He wished she'd leave, so that he could go back to his prison and the mind numbing pain that was his afterlife. Pain, he could understand. She stood there all the same, near yet so far from him, as if knowing to come any closer would provoke unnecessary confrontation.

"Sephiroth." She repeated, this time it was not so much a question as a confirmation, "It is you...My god. You're so tall."

She wasn't someone he'd killed, he knew it the moment those words came from her mouth. None of his victims would speak to him like that, in a tone that was almost wistful, full of longing and ...affection. This woman--she was something else entirely. Anger blossomed again at the presumptuousness of heaven. The sheer gall it took to do this to him. Keeping him constantly guessing at why they'd brought him here, what they wanted from him, only to taunt him. His eyes narrowed and he straightened his back, his gaze was piercing.

"Who are you?" He queried, his voice so cold that every word stung.

In her face, he could see that his words hurt her but she remained unafraid. That fact alone made him angrier. It was as if she'd expected his hostility.

"Lucrecia. Lucrecia LeVrai."

He didn't recognize the name, yet she spoke as if she knew him, her tone too familiar for his liking.

"I don't know you nor do I care to. What do you want?"

She balked, her lip trembling. This was not going as she'd planned. Lucrecia had waited a long time for this day, to finally meet her son. The moment had come but somehow, she couldn't find the words and he...he was distant and unreachable. She soldiered forward, finding it harder to keep her emotions at bay.

With great sadness entering into her voice, she answered, "Nothing. I just wanted to see you."

"Then you've accomplished your goal. Leave." He snorted, not surprised in the least when she didn't. How terribly predictable... Rolling his eyes, he smirked. "All I want is to suffer in peace so I'll kindly bid you to state your business or move on because enough of my time has already been wasted."

"I...needed...I-I came because..." Lucrecia stammered, tears welled and she looked around helplessly as her carefully planned speech fell apart.

For the last thirty years she'd practiced what she'd say at this moment. Choosing every word so that it resonated with meaning. The moment would be perfect. She would reveal to him the complete history of his past, his heritage. With her words, she'd convey to him how much she'd always loved him. How with her last breath she begged her husband to let her hold him. How that last wish was cruelly denied. She'd be able to finally apologize for her own weakness.

More than anything, she wanted to take the pain from him, to absorb it into herself. It was all her fault that his life had been a tortuous mass of misery and despair. If only she'd listened to Vincent, would her son even be standing here? The cetra had told her that it would not matter what she did. That certain things were predestined, Sephiroth's fall from grace was one of these things. Lucrecia was unwilling to accept such a cruel twist of fate. She had to believe that if things had been different, her son might not have been driven insane.

He waited while she thought, her mouth moving mutely as she tried to form those words she longed to say. How easily had things fallen apart...wasn't that always the way it had been for her? She'd always been timid and unable to say the right thing, her foot permanently stuck in her mouth. Being a research scientist, she was unused to the basics of social interaction. She had spent most of her time in the lab, too shy and afraid of the world to poke her head out of her self-appointed gopher hole.

Hojo had hired her because of her essays into various genetic theorems, which were nothing short of brilliant. Her writing was eloquent and precise, leading many to believe the person behind them to be as forceful as the words themselves. Nothing could be farther from the truth. When she spoke, which was rarely, it was in a quiet near whisper. Words had never flowed from her mouth easily. She was nervous and when forced to speak in public she would either start to stutter or worse, she'd get so over-excited that she'd tax her weak lungs. Causing an inevitable asthma attack. Because of this, she'd always let Hojo or Gast speak for her.

Speaking for herself was something she was unused to and it frustrated her that she was unable to communicate. That once more, she was hampered by her own weakness. Her son stood there staring at her, waiting for her to say something and all she could do is shake in fear. Not of him but of the words she longed to say. Looking into his eyes, she choked back an anguished cry though this did not stop her tears from falling. He was so cold. Too cold. His heart hidden behind a sheet of artic ice and she could not touch it. Not without those words, those words that were lost to her now. Had she come all this way only to give up? She lost herself in a reeling torrent of emotions as she wept uncontrollably.

Lucrecia had always felt things deeply. Hojo had often commented that she felt too much. He'd insisted that her emotional reactions to situations hampered her objectivity as a scientist. And she knew in some ways he was right. She'd have been a better scientist if she looked at the world more clinically but then she'd be less human as well. The one time she had let logic overrule emotion had ended in tragedy. If she had listened to her heart and not her mind, her son might not have suffered as he did.

Hojo had promised her that no harm would come to the boy. Promised that he'd make him stronger, better than human. She had no idea what he really had planned. The calculated effort with which Hojo had destroyed Sephiroth's future, purposefully keeping him from those things that made him human. Things he knew Lucrecia had valued so much. Deep in the recesses of her mind she'd always guessed her husband was going to do this, but she had hoped and for hoping she'd damned not only her own soul but that of unborn child. If only she'd listened to her heart, to the man she loved and the instinct she had always trusted implicitly. Then her son might have had a bright future. Maybe he'd be a scientist or an artist...anything but what Hojo had carefully molded him into. Perhaps he wouldn't be here among the dead, forced to undertake a task that would undoubtedly lead to continued suffering on his part.

These were all should haves and could haves, and they did not matter. This was her one chance to make things right, her last chance.

Without thought, she blurted out through the choking waves of tears, "I'm your mother."

Sephiroth was impassively disinterested in what the wraith before him had to say, though he was amused by her antics. Watching her face as she struggled with emotion, probably trying to appeal to his humanity by way of dramatic display. Did she really think that she'd sway him this way? With tears and shaking sighs? He could care less and found it to be the height of hilarity that she tried so desperately to manipulate him. So caught up in his own amusement, he had almost completely missed the half whispered confession that came so swiftly from her lips. Those words stopped him cold and his face went slack before being built up again by bright, fresh rage. He had been patient with these games up to this point, but a line had been crossed. This wasn't just presumptuous, it was cruel.

"What?"

One word, said in a voice that was simultaneously quiet and sharply commanding. She was afraid now because she could see the danger in his eyes. The cold hostility she'd felt before had nothing on this. His fury was palpable and it was murderously intense. The fire in his eyes quieted her and now she knew why all those who faced Sephiroth had feared him.

"Answer me."

She jumped, stumbling over her own words in a breathless whisper, "I-I...s-s-said.....I'm....I'm yuh-yu-your mother...."

His eyes narrowed into bright green slits and the world seemed to still around him. He let the anger wash over him, felt his emotions as they rippled away into nothingness. His darker urges rose up to him, wanting to strike this woman down for spouting such lies. The lunatic he'd been would have killed her where she stood but he restrained himself. He wasn't that man anymore. Breathing in and out slowly to control his rage, he turned and without a word made as if to leave. If this was the answer heaven was going to give him, then he didn't want it. Didn't want some ridiculous wraith to come and claim to be his mother, when he plainly knew she wasn't. A thing like him wasn't born of a human; he was the spawn of a monster. Let them punish him, drive him insane, beat him, torment him, he didn't care. But he would not be mocked, forced to endure bald faced lies that taunted him with what he wanted most. He'd put up with Shinra and believed Jenova when they dangled that carrot and he'd be damned if he'd take the bait a third time.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The voice was summer sweet, reminding him of tinkling chimes as they sang in the wind. He knew that voice. It was the voice of his green eyed would be savior. The one who'd spoken up for him in the lifestream. The one who was responsible for putting him here. He jumped a little once he'd noticed how close she was to him, for truthfully he hadn't even seen her. Though he said nothing, he suspected that she'd used some power to appear before him, another heavenly trick used to keep him off balance.

"Leaving." he replied coldly.

The tiny woman smiled at him as he moved around her as if he could actually leave. Passing her, he was startled again by her appearance; a dim twin to another shadowed memory that seemed just on the surface of his mind. He had recognized her voice and now this simple upturned smile was so mind bogglingly familiar. There was a connection that wanted to be made and was so temptingly close to being found that it nearly stopped him in his tracks. Nearly. He cut this curiosity off before it urged him to do something stupid. Severing all other thought, he moved on. Whoever she was did not matter. She served the power that ridiculed him. No doubt she was sent here to humiliate him further. He didn't get far before she stopped him with smoothly spoken words, in a voice that held not a hint of mockery. Her tone as simply gentle as it had been before.

"I never said you could leave."

The words spoken by any other would have seemed imperious, commanding. From her it sounded like a statement of unmovable truth and the lilting cadence of her voice held a hint of mirth, as if she thought him very silly for leaving.

"I don't recall asking you for permission." he snapped, his back still turned to her. "And what makes you think I would?"

"Because it would be polite. I risked much in bringing you here, after all."

"Your mistake. Not mine. But...if it will facilitate my departure. May I leave?"

"You want to leave so soon?' her question was answered by the slight tilt of his head, "This woman is your mother. She offers the truth. How can you walk away from that?"

"Easily." he replied, turning slowly on his heel to glare at the woman with ill concealed anger, "She lies. You lie. And I am leaving."

The angel shook her head sadly, "So blinded by the lies you've been told that you disbelieve the truth when it's laid in front of you. How unfortunate. This changes nothing. She is your mother and if you'd be patient enough to listen, she would be able to prove it to you."

He bowed his head and when he turned it up again there was no acceptance in his gaze. It was a glare of pure venomous hate that peered from beneath his brow. His lips curling into a small, lunatic smile as he laughed. So quiet one could barely hear it, the tone made it no less menacing. It was a mirthless laugh, a bitter laugh. A laugh that resounded with the misery he'd been put through his entire life.

"My mother....My....Mother..." he laughed, harder, as he tilted his head back, looking skyward before returning his gaze to her. His eyes so full of pain and resignation, an echo of that cold laugh in his words, "And I'm a cactuar's uncle...Jenova was my mother, so spare me your lies."

"You'd believe the words of an abomination, the very same monster that left you to your fate? Jenova lied to you. She used you, yet you still believe her. I have to say, I'm disappointed." she answered back, her voice still quiet and regally demure.

With swiftness that surprised even Sephiroth, she'd grabbed his hand. The one he'd used to cleave a tree in half. Her touch was gentle but firm. She lifted his hand so that he could see it and uncomprehendingly he complied with her unspoken request. His hand had been wounded; the knuckles were raw and bloody. The rivulets of blood that had been dripping from his fingers now twisted around his wrist, the dark red a marked contrast to the paleness of his own skin.

"Your blood runs red, Sephiroth. Not purple. You were born human and human you remain. No matter how vastly you've been altered. The fact of your humanity is immutable and the sooner you accept it, the better."

He snatched his hand away, surprised at the reasonability of what she'd pointed out. The sheer obviousness of it nettled him. He would not be so easily won, "Why should I believe a damn thing you say? You've given me no reason to trust you."

"Nor have I given you a reason for such distrust." she paused, gazing at him pointedly. The calm surface of her demeanor rippling momentarily, and he saw what she'd hidden beneath her collected exterior. Rage, all of it directed at him. "You murdered my daughter. If anyone has a reason to mistrust, it would be me. I spoke for you, on behalf of my daughter...on behalf of your wasted soul...You would not be standing here if it weren't for me."

Her admonition stunned him but he wouldn't let her see. Carrying on with his belligerent facade, he snarled, "You speak as if I should be grateful to you."

Her green eyes flashed and the anger she tried so hard to conceal rolled forward, unchecked, "You should. You are to be given a second chance...and I assure you that doesn't happen very often. Especially to someone like you." He smirked at her, an arrogant and altogether foolish move on his part. The cetran angel's eyes went cold, the world darkening about her as she gathered her power, "Do you know what happens to those who slaughter servants of heaven? You think you know what suffering is...You. Know. Nothing. Purgatory is a two-week holiday vacation in the sun compared to the hell you deserve. You are lucky...and should be on your knees kissing my feet for what I've given you. Especially after all you've done to me and mine."

"Temper, temper. Aren't angels supposed to be patient and forgiving?" he mocked, not sensing the danger in baiting the cetra.

"The lowest level of hell is reserved for souls like yours, those arrogant enough to challenge heaven and murder those who serve it. Perhaps, you'd like it better if I sent you there?"

With the merest wave of her hand she let him experience the cold void of hell. Contrary to popular belief, there was no lake of fire. No spirits of those you'd wrong that would torment you. Only the never ending dark and the constant pain it sent you. The horror and pain he caused in others strangling him as the place he was in sucked what little joy he had from him. Leaving his mind a cold and empty shell, with no barriers to lessen the misery the void had in store for him. It turned his mind to think of everything he'd ever done. Every murder committed, every act of insanity. They played over and over again; he was forced not just to remember, as he had in purgatory, but to relive them in the space of his own mind. Again there was no filter, no hope of comfort to be found. Only the lonely black of the void as it filled his head with fresh nightmare fodder.

To feel the heat from the flames of Nibelheim and the anguished cries of the men, women and children he slaughtered there. His sword cut through flesh like paper and he smiled with distant amusement at how fragile humans were. He enjoyed the scent of burned and cracked flesh that tainted the air with its sickness. Took pleasure in the bleeding of their wounds and the blood spray. Saw beauty in the tangle of their spilt innards, staring down at them like a demonic fortuneteller. Reading their organs of if they were tealeaves. The blood of his victims covered him from head to toe in gore. The man he was wished to wash this blood from him, to purify the already desecrated temple that was his soul. The lunatic he became reveled in it and thirsted for more. Sephiroth looked on in horror as his doppelganger glared at him through the flames, a parody of a smile on its face as fire consumed the vision, rending it into bits of glinting ash.

The burning of Nibelheim melded into the glowing red fire of a meteor as it bore down on the denizens of Midgar. The screams of men, women and children as they tried in vain to run from the glowing orb that closed in on them inexorably. They rang in his ears as loudly as the crashing waves of the roiling ocean. With sickening detail, he watched as a mother and son were vaporized by the impact. It tore them apart, skin melting on the bone before cracking apart at the seams. The water held within their skin boiling with their blood as it oozed from their charred husks. Their mangled bodies holding their form until the meteor's heat was too much, fiercely rending the pair to dust. The only evidence of their existence a shadow burnt into what was left of the street. This happened time and time again. He was forced to relive every death in the city like this. Forced to hear the strangling cries of once hopeful lives as they were torn from their bodies. All hope for himself dwindled with every scream he heard, every death he witnessed. And he realized then what a monster he really was.

The sheer brutality of the acts assaulted him...he'd done that and he'd enjoyed it. He had laughed. Oh, Jenova was behind it all but weak man that he was, he went along willingly. He let himself believe her lies and for that, he killed and bore equal guilt for the reprehensible acts he committed under her control. How many lives had he cut short for that lie? The void answered as a virtual tableau of every person he'd murdered, whether directly or indirectly. And he was forced to watch through their eyes as he slaughtered them...the void showing him what those lives could have become had he not crossed their path. He saw their last thoughts, felt the pain of their deaths, the pain that he caused in them.

Going for the deathblow, the void turned his mind to the little cetra. How easily his sword had torn through her flesh. The way the blood gushed from the wound, staining her pink dress. She slid forward, propelled by his boot. Her body turning as she fell to the ground, so that he could see her face. She was so innocent, lying there in a pool of widening blood. It flowed relentlessly forward, towards her unbound chestnut locks that spilled out around her like a corona of light. Slowly, the locks were soaked dark black with her blood until her hair was consumed by it, the result of his hate and arrogance marring her innocence forever. Her green eyes lidded in pain, half open and gazing skyward as she breathed her last. The one and only thing that had run through her mind at that moment was a feeling of relief. She'd succeeded in her task. More than that, she'd accomplished something greater. Joy, her friends were here. He...Strife...was here and that was all that mattered to her the moment his sword pierced her heart.

With a shudder, he was shown what her future should have been. The void let him see all that he'd taken from her, and all that would never be because of him. Let him feel her anguish, her loss as if it were his own. At that moment, something in him broke and Sephiroth wished, as he had many times before, that he'd never been born. The last nail struck and the void burned into his memory--freezing him in that spot to fully comprehend the horror of his actions. She was the lamb, a martyr and willing sacrifice. He was the persecuting wolf who'd forced her to do the unthinkable. Doling out an unwarranted execution from the lips of a demon, whose mendacity he so eagerly accepted. From heaven, the void dangled him, holding him over the vision of her tiny body curled on its side and like the incoming tide, a pool of endless blood engulfed her....and nothing could wipe that image from his mind.

Then it hit him, why the angel he spoke with now looked so familiar. Sephiroth let out a choked gasp at the realization. He had no reason to treat her that way, no reason to mistrust her, while she had every reason in the world to hate and condemn him. Yet she hadn't...why....He tried to pull away, to swim from the empty waves of agony that tore him apart. The void left him no escape. Every time he tried to drag his mind from those images, they'd pull him back and hold him there. For in hell, there is no rest and the suffering it generates is relentless.

Ifalna watched the former general as he writhed on the ground, distantly saddened that it had to come to such a brutal display of power.

"What...what are you doing to him?" cried Lucrecia, who'd returned to herself, long forgotten by both Ifalna and Sephiroth in the blur of their confrontation.

"Teaching him a lesson."

The effect of the spell lessened and Sephiroth's body stilled as the last of his pain passed. He laid limply on the ground, breathing with shallow, agonized gasps. There was a terrible silence that hung over the forest.

"What did you do to him, Ifalna? Why did you..."

Holding up her hand, she quieted her human companion with a steely gaze. There are lessons all beings must learn. Sephiroth needed to know there were things greater and more powerful than himself. As far as he'd come, there were still things he was unable to admit, things his arrogant pride prevented from overcoming. He needed that arrogance taken from him, crushed under the boot heel of a power that rendered him insignificant.

"Get up."

He didn't obey at first, still in too much pain to move. Eventually he pushed himself up with a moan, his shaky arms barely holding him--able only to sit cross-legged on the ground. Ifalna waited patiently, dark green eyes boring into the man in front of her. He could feel her gaze, it struck at his very heart and he was unable to look at her. Once again, hanging his head in shame for his foolish behavior. His shoulders slumped and a despondent sigh escaped his lips. Was this how it was to be? Would he continually prove himself to be a fool? Yes, it seemed that was his fate. For that's what he was. A fool.

Head still hung low, he asked the angel before him what he knew already, "In the forgotten city...the little cetra...I...killed. She was your daughter?"

"Yes...and she has a name."

She sent another wave of memory at him. His eyes opening blindly as the vivid images passed through him. From clouded sunlight a vision of the little cetra came unbidden, ripped from within him. Her back was to him, her long chestnut hair unbound and twirling giddily in the wind. Motes of dust floating around her through the filtered light like a strip of faded celluloid. A long forgotten movie, left on the studio shelves to gather dust.

She turned, so slowly that it seemed as if he'd never see her face and once their eyes met, it was as if time stopped. Her dark emerald eyes swirled with warmth and wisdom he couldn't begin to fathom. They pulled him in and she seemed to loom above him. Long tendrils of golden brown hair moved above him, dancing in a light breeze. She looked down at him then, closing her eyes as a slim hand moved upward to hold back her hair. Pushing the stray curl behind her ear before opening those eyes again. Those eyes so full of acceptance, forgiveness he didn't deserve. And when they finally opened, she smiled. His one reaction was that of unadulterated fascination and he reached out as if to touch her. Beautiful...the word slipped from his lips before he could stop it but it was of little consequence. It was the truth...how did he not see her beauty before? His fool's mission had shadowed his eyes, kept him from seeing too late what he should have seen all along. Light effused her frail form, making her pale skin glow from within and without, as if she was made of it. Beneath her skin lay the power of creation, she was an angel though more earthly than ethereal. His hand continued to reach forward. He needed to see if she was real and as his hand neared her face the vision shifted into dust. Her name effortlessly etched into his memory.

This vision destroyed any last bit of resistance he had within him. Whatever the cetra's mother would do to him, he deserved and would accept without question. He waited for it, to feel a blow that would obliterate him--to feel her send him back to the void. Nothing came. Her mercy was worse than any torture hell could dole out and for a long time, he just sat there trying to reason out her motivations. Until, finally, he found the courage to speak to her.

From his memory's lips the little cetra's name formed and in a breathless whisper he spoke, "Aeris....Her name was Aeris."

"Yes." Ifalna replied, a brief tremble came into her voice as she fought tears. Hearing her name coming from him was almost too much for her to bear.

He looked up at her then, his eyes swirling with confusion. "Why? I don't understand..." His voice cracked as he spoke. Broken by the realization of what he'd learned. "I don't understand..."

She understood his question. Why would she help him, after he'd killed her daughter? Yes, there was a vengeful part of Ifalna that wished to see him burn. That feeling in and of itself wasn't wrong but to let it harden her heart, was. Revenge is a double-edged sword. To see it through to the end, one must become what one hates. She was above such cruelty and petty revenge, for those were the tools of the weak. Forgiveness is a harder road but in the end more rewarding. Ifalna had always followed that path and she would continue, even in the face of her daughter's murderer. She had met the boy's mother, learned of his own suffering and the confusion he'd endured in life. He was a lost soul, nothing more than a cork in the ocean. Bobbing with the current helplessly. She had taken it upon herself to direct him, this time along the right path.

We all strive to walk the path of truth and sometimes we fall. Sometimes we get lost and walk a darker road. It is only when another helps us up and leads us away from that darker place, do we grow and learn from our mistakes. Ifalna would serve as his beacon, his mother would be his guide and Sephiroth would once again walk Adur'rta without fear. She looked at him then and she was overwhelmed with pity. His expression was pained and uncomprehending, his world clearly changing all too quickly for him to deal with it rationally. How could she not pity him? One act of compassion and true mercy and he was unable to understand it...he was that lost.

"You wouldn't." she answered him in the most simple terms, "Kindness is something that comes naturally when given freely. Never having felt it, it is no wonder you don't understand. This is your first lesson."

Ifalna smiled as she kneeled next to him and gracefully proffered her hand. He gazed from her to it, a look of horror and stark abject terror flickering across his features. Touching others was something he'd disliked and over the years, he rarely endured skin-to-skin contact for any length of time. Besides the fact that he was hesitant to touch something so pure, especially after what he'd done. He was tainted, unclean and unworthy of her compassion. Looking down, he shook his head imperceptibly, shying away from her side. Ifalna laughed lightly, noting how boyish he looked as he tried to turn in on himself. Trying to make himself smaller, a feat which was near impossible considering his height. She grabbed his hand, claiming it by force once more. He winced; wanting to pull away but knowing to do so might offend her. So he tolerated it.

She stroked his injured hand gently, healing the wound with her touch. Her hand hovered above his wrist and she looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. Undoubtedly he was discomforted and perplexed by her actions. After receiving such punishment in the past he was unaccustomed to kindness and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Turning, the cetra regarded her human companion and held out her free hand. Her sudden outburst earlier had frightened the young scientist. Lucrecia didn't trust her as it was and Ifalna could not risk this tentative alliance. If Sephiroth were to recover, he would need his real mother's support and guidance. Hesitantly, Lucrecia obeyed, moving over quietly so that she sat next to the cetra, who moved over to accommodate her.

The man they were here to save had hung his head low, his eyes remaining downcast as he contemplated all that had happened. He stared at his hand as it was limply grasped in the cetra's hand. Wondering the why and how of this strange new purpose welling within him.

Lucrecia was nervous; confrontation had never been her strong suit. The entire argument and subsequent resolution had left her unnerved. She was visibly shaken and nervously played with her hands as they sat in her lap. Nearly jumping out of her skin when Ifalna touched them to still their movement. The contact was calming, immediately setting Lucrecia at ease. Though for a panicked moment she wondered if it was the touch itself or yet another demonstration of the mysterious power that dwelt within the cetra. Biting her lip, she looked up, her eyes meeting Ifalna's. What she found there comforted her greatly. There was no guile in the gaze to indicate a spell had been woven. The cetra's eyes were full of compassion and understanding--and an apology for her previous behavior.

Ifalna spared a glance at Sephiroth, noting he still hadn't moved. Carefully, she grasped both mother and son's hands, gently guiding them together--releasing her hold on them. The moment she'd hoped to arrange finally came to fruition. Two lost souls had finally found each other. One mother. One son. Both searching for absolution, for an end to the stagnancy of their existence, for that elusive thing called home. Holding hands after years of separation, a family was partially reunited. A sigh of relief escaped Lucrecia's lips and she felt tears well in her eyes once more....things may just work out.