Warning: Some m/m content.

Deep Dark Blues

He clutched a crumpled sheet of paper in one hand and stood stone still by the large window while others rushed past in excitement. They ran and chatted with each other. Some stopped to lend a hand with luggage. Groups formed and split. Some made plans to meet later, but always in hushed tones as they neared his place by the window. He was aware of their movement behind him, but it was not his concern. They did not matter to him. He did not matter to them.

They were going home. It was the last day of classes for those in elite training. Most of the classes were over and the cadets, his classmates, were going home. Sephiroth kept his gaze out the window and watched them leave. They seemed barely bigger than beetles from where he stood. He could just hear the sounds of their voices. If he concentrated he could hear the words, but it was all mindless chatter, not worth the effort. It was enough to watch, a small satisfaction. He had never quite grown used to the crowds or the lack of privacy in the Academy. They would all leave and soon he would have the whole place to himself. For a little while, any way.

Salute, sign out, salute again, run out the gate, go far from the base to enjoy the short freedom. Sephiroth watched the grey-uniformed cadets. They were all smiling, grinning, laughing as they went. One pair of young men high-fived each other. Sephiroth did not understand the point of it. He did not understand the point of most of the things his classmates did or said, though he had hoped to and early on, had tried so hard.

But he was different, after all. The few short years he had spent in this training had shown him as much. He was faster, stronger, smarter than all the rest and the instructors treated him accordingly. He was pushed harder than the others. His training schedule was brutal. He had already been on more missions than any of the rest, led by the officers he was supposed to one day surpass. That day was fast approaching. He pressed his forehead against the glass, but held in any other sign of how he felt. His reputation depended on it.

Those cadets out there, they knew it, they knew he was the best. He knew that they whispered about it in the hall. He had seen the looks they exchanged in lectures whenever he volunteered to answer. When he had a scheduled training match, the crowd that materialized on the fringes was almost as thick as it would be for a full demonstration between the elite SOLDIERs. They were awed, amazed and afraid. His ability set him apart as surely as did the premature glow in his eyes.

No, that was a lie. His appearance had drawn some stares when he had first been sent here and his unusual talent for the arts of combat had drawn even more attention, but they were not the barriers he set them up to be. Sephiroth closed his eyes against the sight of the deepening blue sky and forced the uncomfortable thoughts down. It did not matter. He clutched the stark white page tighter and felt it tear slightly under the force of his fingernails. When he looked up again, the traffic behind him had dwindled to a few scattered stragglers.

Most were outside now and though the light was fading, he could still make out the faces.

He recognized the Ludds, a pair of lanky blonds, twins, sixteen years old, grey eyes, from his Advanced Tactics class. An old man, ashen-haired, waited patiently beyond the gate. The father, Sephiroth guessed, from the resemblance. So the twins were going home for the little break, to be with family. That must be nice…

Matthews - age fifteen, height five feet, six inches, brown hair, a little clumsy - was grinning at one group over his shoulder as he walked towards the gates. Matthews had a girlfriend. He talked about her all the time and had her picture stuck inside his locker, right next to his socks. Day in, day out, all anyone in the cadet quarters heard from Matthews was how much he was missing his girl. No doubt he was off to go meet her. Sephiroth snorted. He had better things to do with his time that sit down writing to some girl. Not that it was likely that he would ever have a girl to write to. His hand tightened around the page he held.

A large group swarmed the gate together and Sephiroth could hear their loud whooping without even trying. He recognized one of the dark haired young men, Vantley, nineteen, red hair, blue eyes, loud, boisterous, disruptive. Sephiroth listed off what he had observed of the boy in his head. He did not care much for loud people, though the others did not seem to mind. Quite the opposite actually. Vantley had many, many friends.

Sephiroth turned away from the window to lean against the wall. There was no point to watching the others leave. He was in here, not out there. His training was his life and he could not, would not leave it. The military had indeed straightened Sephiroth out. His superiors made his life hell, that much had not changed. He could not wreak havoc on an entire base the way he did in the laboratory. He had no wish to. It was enough to be the best here and leave the rest in the dust. It was more purpose in life than he had ever had before. Leaving the military would put him right back in Hojo's hands.

Enough time had passed that he no longer shuddered at the thought of the place. He was still called back for more violent testing, but now that he had been outside, it was easy to send his mind away while the scientists abused his body. Let the other cadets wonder why he spent so much time walking out under the stars after hours. They took the outdoors for granted and he was too ashamed to confess why he did not.

There was noise in the hallway, approaching chatter. Sephiroth pulled himself up straight and folded his arms. The page he held crinkled in his grip. As he expected, the students grew quieter as they passed him. He watched them through his eyelashes, drawn to their behavior, yet unwilling to attract any more attention. He was not sure why.

He almost resembled one of the marble busts that lined the hall, pale, rigid, cold, but it was not enough for him to escape the wary gaze of his classmates. They slowed as they neared him. His heart began to pound. Some of them were thinking about speaking to him. He could read it in their posture, the slight pause, the glances that lasted a second too long, the breath drawn and held, the words, trapped in the throat. Sephiroth felt his own breath catch. If they spoke to him, what would they say? How would he respond?

Sephiroth faced most of his problems head on. He opened his eyes fully and stared right at the group. The entire group, about a half dozen of his classmates, room mates, acquaintances stopped in the near darkness, frozen in the eerie light of his stare. The silver-haired young man instinctively identified the nervous faces. The attached facts and statistics surfaced in a blink. Funny how that reaction had become reflex. The silence stretched out to an uncomfortable pause.

Sephiroth broke the silence with a soft acknowledgement of the group's stares. "Yes?" He immediately winced inside. It had come out sharper than he intended. One of the younger ones, a dark-haired boy named Winters, actually cringed at it.

It was Sands, an eighteen year-old with hair to match his name, who gathered the nerve to answer under the piercing green spotlights. "We, I mean all of us here, we're going to hit some of the clubs in the city before we split up for the break." It sounded as if he meant to say more, but the words seemed to be trapped in his throat.

Sephiroth waited fearfully, hopefully, for the rest, but nothing came. Nothing would ever come. The tension slid away and took the hope with it. Things like this, they were not for him. He knew his lot in life. "Enjoy yourselves," he said quietly, pleased only that he had kept his voice steady. He turned his back on the group and stared out at the dark blue sky. It was hard to see the stars with all the security lights in the yard. A slow moment passed and Sephiroth felt the young men behind him exhale with relief. They fidgeted and began to move.

"Hey, uh," Sands said weakly, "enjoy the break." Sephiroth nodded in acknowledgement, though he did not turn. Footsteps disappeared around the corner and soon he was alone in the hallway again. He thumped his forehead against the window and this time, he could not stop the look of pain from crossing his face.

It was unfair, this existence. Some things had been easier in Hojo's laboratory. At least there he had not known how alone he truly was. Out here, he saw it every day. He had tried, honestly, to 'make friends', early on. It came so naturally to everyone else around him. Not him, though. He always did the wrong thing, or said the wrong thing, or did not truly understand what the conversation was about. Much of what was normal to the others had been completely unknown to him.

He had not had a mother to bake him a birthday cake. Nobody had ever taken him fishing. He had not even seen a real tree till he was nine. The mice who had been his playmates had never cared what he said, or minded that all he talked about were his lessons. People were different, though, and it was better to say nothing at all than the wrong thing. They stared at him hard enough for his weird hair color.

He straightened and swallowed his pain. It was useless. There was no sense in it. These things were just not for him, he told himself, over and over. He knew what he was there for and it was not for partying or dancing, or getting a girlfriend. He was there to learn and then to serve, not to be liked or loved. He let the page he held fall to the floor.

There was chattering out in the nearly empty yard. Sands' group was finally making to the gate, talking and gesticulating animatedly, all the wild. Sephiroth felt his chest tighten. They were talking about him. It was a fair guess. Every now and then one of them would turn and look back at the building, eyes searching the darkened windows. Sephiroth turned away again. He did not see the way Winters lagged behind the group. He did not see the boy break off and run back towards the building.

Sephiroth leaned against the wall for a few long minutes, pondering the turns his life had taken. Quick footfalls in the hallway drew him out of it. He opened his eyes just in time to see Winters enter. The boy paused a few feet away, like a terrified mouse. Sephiroth's mouth tilted very slightly at the thought. What a life it was, to be able to scare people with just a glance. He studied the slender boy and let the vital facts slide by.

Alex Winters, fifteen, black hair, grey eyes, five feet, five inches, promising sharp shooter, adequate at academics, barely holding his own in unarmed combat. He was in most of Sephiroth's lower level classes, but sat far in the back, so the silver-haired young man hardly ever saw him. It was probably for the best, given the way the boy was twitching under the lifestream-colored glow that emanated from Sephiroth's eyes. Any more and Winters would melt.

Sephiroth decided to put the boy out of his misery. "What do you want?" The sooner the matter was done, the sooner Alex Winters would leave. Like the others who had tried before him, though, Winters seemed to be choking on his words.

"Ah, um, I, uh, we were," he trailed off. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at him and almost smiled. Good to know there were people more tongue-tied than he was. The dark-haired boy drew himself up, visibly gathering his nerve, though he seemed to be turning pink. "We were wondering if you would, um, like to come with us. To the club, I mean, you know, if you're interested."

Sephiroth nearly fell down. They were actually asking him to come with them? To be in their company, with the music and the dancing and all the things normal people his age did, to walk with them and laugh, maybe sneak a few drinks, talk to a girl…

No, it could not be. Much as he wanted it, Sephiroth knew that it was not the time. Why now, of all the times for this blessing to strike, why now, when he knew there was no time and no hope? His face grew pained, despite Winters' presence. "I can't," Sephiroth said. "I'm sorry."

"Oh." A light went out of the boy's face and his eyes fell to the floor. He stepped closer to Sephiroth and knelt to the ground. He picked up the crumpled page before Sephiroth could stop him. "Did you drop this?" Sephiroth snatched it out of his hands. Grey eyes widened in shock. "I'm sorry," the boy hurried to apologize. "I didn't mean any harm." He stood up and stepped back, not completely out of Sephiroth's reach. "I know everybody doesn't like sharing letters from home."

"It's not a letter!" Sephiroth snapped before he could stop himself. Winters jumped but was too scared to move. Sephiroth glared at the younger cadet, though it was himself he was angry with, for showing emotion, for entertaining ridiculous dreams. He exhaled deeply. "It's not a letter," his voice was quiet now. Winters was staring at him. The boy's owl-eyed surprise softened to wary curiosity, but he said nothing. The taller cadet sighed. Give the boy what he wanted and maybe he would go away and Sephiroth could get on with his business.

"It's my new orders," Sephiroth lifted the page slightly. "I'm being transferred to Wutai. I leave the day after tomorrow." He could not understand why the other boy looked terrified.

"They're sending you to the war?"

Sephiroth nodded. He was going to war to join a platoon as a special operative. Never mind that he had not yet graduated from the Academy. He could earn his field commission for SOLDIER in no time out on the battlefield. If he survived. The thought seemed to cross Winters' mind at the same time, from the expression on his face. Sephiroth wondered why the boy was taking the news so hard. It was interesting watching him fidget though, and it did make him feel better to see someone else having a hard time with it.

Winters lifted his head and looked Sephiroth straight in the eyes. His lips moved as he struggled to think of something appropriate to say. Sephiroth almost laughed at it. He was not the only one who could not say the right thing at the right time. He closed his eyes in relief and missed the moment when Winters sprung forward.

All Sephiroth felt at first was a pair of arms around his neck. There was a fraction of a second when he might have been able to throw the boy off, but he was caught off guard and the fierce lips that pressed against his own drove all thought out of his head. He fell back against the wall under the weight of the young cadet's body. His eyes flew open, but all he could see was the boy's black hair.

It was over before Sephiroth could even think about taking action. Winters stood, breathless and red-faced. Sephiroth slid down against the wall, shocked beyond words. "You come back safe, you hear me?" Winters said. "Come back alive!" Sephiroth nodded wordlessly, his control, his free will completely blown away. The dark-haired boy almost burst into tears at the sight. "Come back safe," he said once more and fled, leaving the silver-haired young man to recover his wits alone in the dark hallway.

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Time: 4 hrs 23 mins

Assessment: Just damned weird. Tough time writing this one. Author is fighting some blues of her own. Apologies if that last scene was too disturbing. You were warned.

Mission: 66.67% complete.