Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Children ❯ Chapter 7: Acrid Oblivion ( Chapter 10 )

a/n: This chapter is dialogue heavy. Just a warning.

 

Shattered Children: Chapter Seven

Acrid Oblivion

 

Sephiroth awoke to the feeling of cotton in his mouth and a headache that pulsed and throbbed at his temples. He peeled his eyes open, grimacing at the brightness of the sunlight that practically blinded him. It was then that he registered he was lying in a bed and he wasn't still in the basement of the ShinRa mansion. It took him just as long to realize that he was only wearing his pants.

 

Bolting upright, Sephiroth immediately winced when pain shot through him, rocketing across his back and arm. He hissed, hand moving to grip the covered Geostigma as if it would actually help the pain. It didn't, of course, but the movement was entirely unconscious. The bandages felt stiff and new. Someone had changed them.

 

Hand still on his arm, Sephiroth chanced a look around. He was in a bedroom that it took him a moment to recognize. Aeris' home. He was in the spare room at Aeris' house. The door was slightly ajar and he could dimly hear the sounds of dishes clanking downstairs. Food was wafting pleasantly towards his nose but the churning inside made it impossible for him to be hungry.

 

Green-grey eyes hastily scanned the room, wondering how he had gotten here. He quickly spotted Tseng on the bed next to him and was relieved to find the man's chest moving in deep and even breaths. He had been bandaged up as well, probably thanks to Aeris' expertise. Still, that didn't explain how he had gotten from the mansion to Rocket Town.

 

“What happened?”

 

The voice broke into his slowly gathering thoughts, familiar though he couldn't place it in an instant. Sephiroth swung his gaze towards the doorway, finding both Nanaki and Yuffie standing there. He wondered how long they had been there and why he hadn't heard the squeak of the door as it opened. He couldn't have been that deep in thought.

 

He didn't make any gesture for the two to enter but they did anyways, Nanaki's eyes flickering between Sephiroth and the white bandages covering most of his upper body. “We found you in the ShinRa mansion but whatever - whoever - did that was already gone.”

 

Sephiroth shook his head, reading into the insinuation in a moment. “I don't know who. Tseng was already injured when I showed up.” He paused, a thought occurring to him. “The children?” he asked, inwardly berating himself for not remembering Denzel and Marlene earlier.

 

“They weren't there,” Yuffie answered in lieu of Nanaki, flopping down with little grace into a chair next to her unconscious cousin. She was careful to keep her voice low so as not to wake him. “And now we know why.”

 

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

Nanaki sighed and shifting his weight, crossing his arms. “There are three men who suddenly appeared in Junon, bearing suspicious resemblance to you,” he explained, tail swinging lazily behind him in an arc of dim fire. “They are looking for Jenova.”

 

“I've met them,” Sephiroth replied, thinking back to the encounter.

 

Or to be more precise, he had met two of them. The third had not been there when they made their presence known. They had attacked him but not with the intention to kill. He wasn't entirely sure what they wanted from him. What did their resemblance to him mean? Had there been more experiments like his own?

 

A flash of the Nibelheim reactor came to mind. All those twisted and grotesque bodies, trapped behind metal and glass, alive but silent. Well, silent to anyone else. He could hear their screams, however. He could hear their incoherent babble, their desperate desire to be free, the blood lust. More than their appearance, those haunting voices had been the first thing to drive him into the madness that eventually led to Nibelheim's destruction.

 

He had destroyed those failed experiment, or at least, he had thought he did. But that didn't mean Hojo couldn't easily recreate them. After his death, it was entirely possible that Hojo would want to try again. But then, those men that came after him, the one looked much too old. Hojo would have had to start sometime around the year Sephiroth had been sent to the military.

 

A sense of cold washed over Sephiroth. He nearly missed the rest of the conversation as Yuffie stirred in interest.

 

“When?” she asked.

 

Sephiroth waved her off, unwilling to share the details of that meeting. Not when he didn't understand it himself. “That's not important,” he dismissed, trying to focus his swirling thoughts on what was more crucial. “What about Denzel and Marlene?”

 

“For some reason, those men took them. They're brothers as Vincent tells it,” Nanaki explained, walking to the window and moving aside the curtain with one finger to peer out. “They not only took Denzel and Marlene but a good portion of the children from the orphanage in Junon as well.”

 

“Why?” Sephiroth asked, completely baffled.

 

He couldn't think of a single logical reason for them to kidnap a bunch of kids. Unless they were merely trying to draw him out. Not that he wouldn't have gone anyways. The pull of Jenova was becoming too strong. Eventually, they would have had to meet. No, those brothers would have known that. There had to be another reason for taking the children.

 

Yuffie shrugged, crossing her legs as she fiddled with a shuriken. “We don't know. They've already attacked Reeve and other than wanting Jenova, we don't really know what they're after.”

 

It hit Sephiroth then, making him wonder why he hadn't seen it sooner. They wanted Jenova. They wanted the children and most of them had been hit by Geostigma. They were malleable, desperately seeking for someone to save them. It would be pathetically easy to convince them.

 

“Another Reunion,” Sephiroth stated, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He hadn't meant them to hear it.

 

Nanaki shot him an odd look, full of that timeless knowledge that often belied his youthful appearance. “Reunion?”

 

His head suddenly felt as if it were aching; Sephiroth nodded, knowing he couldn't refrain from answering now. “Jenova is not as dead as we thought,” he responded, resisting the urge to rub his forehead where he could feel something pulsing behind his skull. “No doubt she is controlling them in some fashion.”

 

The two exchanged glances again and more than just a conversation passed between them. There was understanding and comfort, a connection that had been steadily growing. It was subtle, but even emotionally-stunted Sephiroth could see that what was between them was real. It made him think of his failed attempts at establishing a relationship with Tseng, made him wonder if he was even capable of grabbing his own comfort.

 

“They only took the ones who had been inflicted with Geostigma,” Yuffie commented quietly, confirming what Sephiroth had deduced for himself. A fierce anger began to grow in her eyes as her fingers curled into determined fists.

 

It truly was some type of Reunion then. Jenova was calling to her children.

 

Unconsciously, Sephiroth's hand returned to his arm, fingers lightly tracing over the thick, white bandages. He hated that everyone would know now, but he should have realized that hiding the truth forever was impossible. For all their strength, they were all inexplicably nosy.

 

“How long have you had it?” Nanaki asked, staring pointedly at a spot just behind Sephiroth. Undoubtedly he was recalling the full extent of the spread of Geostigma on the former General's back.

 

Sephiroth didn't want to answer because it was none of their business but it wasn't in him to snap rudely, especially when a part of him owed these people his life. Besides, they were Cloud's friends, Cloud's family. It wasn't in his right to drive them away.

 

“Too long,” he responded evasively, trying his marginal best to keep his tone even. “It doesn't matter. There's nothing to cure it.”

 

Nanaki turned back towards him, letting the curtain slide over the window once more. “Does Denzel know?”

 

Sephiroth shook his head, leaving it at that.

 

A moment of silence filled the room before Nanaki sighed. “Your bike is out front.” When Sephiroth looked up at him with a flash of alarm, the demi-human quickly held up a hand of pause. “Don't worry. I drove it. Not Yuffie.”

 

“Hey!” she inserted indignantly. “I drove the truck they were in.”

 

“And luckily they weren't hurt any worse,” he shot back with a teasing note, amusement glittering in his eyes.

 

Sephiroth was only partially listening to them. “Where did they take them?” he asked, interrupting their flirting.

 

Golden eyes swung back his direction. “To the City of the Ancients past Bone Village,” Nanaki replied, sensing that a dark mood was descending on the room. “Are you going after them?”

 

Sephiroth was silent for a moment, internally debating his options. He knew that he was going after them, but he also knew that it might not be the best thing for him to do. Not with the way Jenova was growing stronger, not with weakness spreading in a crippling motion across his back. He could tell without testing that his hand was losing its ability to grip a sword. He morbidly wondered once more how much longer he had to live.

 

“I don't know,” he replied honestly and ignoring the startled looks on their faces. “I need to think.”

 

Luckily, they understood the truth of his request. Without another word, the two departed, closing the door behind them. He was left alone with a still unconscious Tseng and his thoughts. It was a wonder the Turk hadn't woken yet. Then again, he had been in pretty bad shape when Sephiroth found him.

 

Sephiroth remained seated on his bed for a moment, fingers still idly rubbing the bandages over his infection. It had spread, he could tell that without even having to look. He felt it creeping further down his back, stretching towards his fingers and crippling his wrist. He wondered if it would consume him entirely before killing him. No one else had lived this long. Or perhaps the mako in his blood helped to counteract it, a constant healing against the constant deterioration.

 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Sephiroth finally forced himself to rise from the bed, a sharp pain racing down his spine at the abrupt movement. The hitch in his breath was the only indication, however, and he quickly crossed the room. He parted the curtains, staring outside where the sun was quickly setting, leaving heavy shadows everywhere in Rocket Town. It looked absurdly cheerful, a direct counterpoint to his mood.

 

Jenova. Reunion. Three brothers who resembled him. Cloud in his dream.

 

He felt it all weighing on his shoulders, trying to bear him to the ground. It wasn't that he had expected complete peace after the end of the Chaos War, but he certainly hadn't anticipated his ghosts coming back to haunt him. But he should have known. While fighting Balaam and the others, there had been hints that Jenova wasn't yet gone. Moments when he wasn't himself, whispers at night when he knew he was alone. Strange urges for destruction. He wondered if he would ever be completely free of her influence.

 

Somehow, a part of Sephiroth doubted it. At least he had never dared to hope for a simple future. The moment he first spotted the flush of Geostigma, he knew he his fate had been sealed. The Planet wasn't quite done punishing him and though he might have had reason for insanity, it didn't purge him of his misdeeds.

 

A cheery, chirping noise suddenly filled the room.

 

Sephiroth started in surprise, letting go of the curtain and allowing it to slide back into place with a swish. It took him a moment to register what the annoying noise actually was, recalling that Zack had set it to that energetic chirp for a reason. He frowned, trying to place the location of his phone.

 

He spotted his shirt and other accessories piled haphazardly on a chair near the door and quickly crossed the room. Digging through the heap, he located the twirping phone and scanned the readout. It was Zack. He had no reason to ignore his best friend and besides, he had probably already heard from Aeris. It was best if he answered it.

 

With a worried glance towards Tseng, hoping he hadn't woken the Turk, Sephiroth pressed the button and slipped out of the room. In the nearly silent hallway, he leaned against the door and held the phone to his ear.

 

“Zack.”

 

There was a moment of stunned quiet before a low, amused chuckle filtered through the speaker. “Damn, you actually answered,” Zack responded, his voice sounding slightly raspy though Sephiroth couldn't remember a day in the man's life when he had been sick. “I was beginning to think that even I had fallen from favor.”

 

Sephiroth sighed, his free hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose. “What is it?” he demanded, hoping he could convince Zack to just spit it out rather than tease. He really wasn't in the mood.

 

“Aeris called Reeve and let us know what's going on,” the other man responded, voice instantly losing its bemused note. “But I want to hear it from you. I'm worried about you, Seph.”

 

“Tell me about the brothers first,” Sephiroth countered, ignoring the twinge of guilt inside of him.

 

Zack was the closest thing he had to family, Valentine's dubious connections to him notwithstanding. Yet, he had been ignoring Zack as well. A part of him was surprised that he hadn't been completely written off by Zack yet. Then again, the younger man had proven to be remarkably tenacious in continuing their relationship.

 

His urge to fix what was broken was probably a big part of that. Zack never could dismiss anyone who looked as if they needed a kind thought.

 

“Yes, General,” Zack responded, though Sephiroth could tell in an instant that he wasn't truly aggravated. “You got my message from a couple days ago, right?”

 

“I did.”

 

“Right.” Zack paused to clear his throat as if deciding what he needed to say next. “Anyways, Reeve wanted me and Elena to check out some strange occurrences at the Northern Crater.”

 

Sephiroth listened intently, recognizing the location as the same place he had been defeated by Cloud. It was also where he had attempted to summon Meteor, where the Weapons had awakened, and where he had been brought back to life by the Planet. He wondered if there was any significance in particular centered around it.

 

“We found a remnant of Jenova,” Zack continued in a hesitant voice. “It's not much but it might help in curing Geostigma, or so Reeve thinks.”

 

Sephiroth blinked. “Jenova?” he repeated, heart thundering in his chest. “And you didn't destroy her?”

 

“And lose the chance to save those infected? Save Denzel?” Zack countered, sounding tired, as if he had had this argument himself already. “Reeve was willing to risk it.”

 

Sephiroth transferred his fingers to his forehead, rubbing at the sudden pulsing vein. “What happened?” he asked, changing the subject.

 

He wasn't in the mood to begin an argument with Zack. No, the person he needed to address was Reeve. Zack was just the messenger.

 

“We were attacked by these guys, looked just like you.” It was here that Zack paused again, considering. “Are you sure you don't have any brothers Seph? Cause they did a hell of a job kicking my ass six ways from Sunday.”

 

“Not that I recall.” Sephiroth leaned back against the door and looked at the ceiling, idly tracing a spidery crack with his eyes. “Hojo never mentioned anything about continuing his experiments. I had thought I was the only one.”

 

Zack sighed into the phone. “Didn't think so. Anyways, that's not what matters. We managed to get Sion out of there with Jenova but they took their time kicking our asses, probably out of spite. I doubt I'd be alive if Valentine hadn't swooped in like some kind of caped crusader and saved us.”

 

“What?” Sephiroth was stunned. Zack was one of the strongest fighters he knew.

 

“Never mind. It doesn't matter since I'm fine,” Zack insisted and he heard something in the background that sounded like a bed squeaking. “I've suffered through worse training for SOLDIER. Hell, you've given me harder blows. Anyways, that doesn't matter. Reeve's sending Elena and I back in to get Denzel and Marlene.”

 

Like hell.

 

“No,” Sephiroth interrupted forcefully, nearly surprising himself with how loud his denial echoed in the hallway. “No. I'll do it.”

 

The protest was already forming before he had even finished. “Seph...” Zack began but Sephiroth's fingers tightened around the phone, plastic and metal creaking ominously.

 

“I have to, Zack,” he interrupted, uninterested in hearing any protest. “I failed to protect them and that means I failed in my promise.”

 

He had told Cloud he would watch over his friends and family. And he had told Denzel he would always protect him. He had to keep those vows or he would be nothing less than a man. Just the monster he always expected to find himself to be.

 

There was a long silence before Zack answered him. “The sample of Jenova they have here is acting strange,” he began quietly. “It keeps moving, as if waiting for something.”

 

Sephiroth felt his throat constricting as he listened, as if something was choking him from the inside. He knew Jenova was searching for him. It was he that she was after, he who had been born the perfect host. She knew that she could easily twist him into her minion again.

 

“And?”

 

Zack lost his patience. “Dammit, Seph. Let me be a little concerned,” he snapped before immediately pulling back, cursing under his breath and trying again. “Sorry, I'm just... Listen. Be careful. We don't know anything about these boys.”

 

“I don't need to know anything,” Sephiroth replied, his tone taking on a flat note. “All I have to do is look in the mirror.”

 

“Seph,” Zack warned. “Don't start on that. You're not the same as them.”

 

His hand dropped to his side, dangling loosely. “I am,” Sephiroth returned. “Or even if I am not now, I was at one time.”

 

“That doesn't mean you're responsible for them!” Zack argued, sounding frustrated. Sephiroth knew that his best friend was probably pacing at this point, resisting the urge to toss his phone against the wall. “You have no obligation--”

 

Sephiroth interrupted, a bit more sharply than he intended but it was effective, nonetheless. “You're wrong. I'm the only one who can do this because I am the only one who understands.”

 

A sigh echoed through the phone. “Seph...” Zack paused and redirected. “I know better than to stop you. Just watch yourself. Please?”

 

It was the 'please' that nearly broke him. “I always do.”

 

“Sometimes I'm not so sure of that. I'll call you later.”

 

Sephiroth made a noncommittal noise in his throat which Zack took as some sort of agreement and ended the call. Sighing, the former General clicked 'end' and let his hand dangle, phone held loosely in his fingers. He felt abnormally drained, his emotions and sanity being pulled through a wringer. He closed his eyes and laid his head back on the door, trying to find something to ground himself. But it was useless.

 

Feeling a chill, he remembered he was still only half-dressed. Propriety demanded he at least wear a shirt before journeying downstairs and properly thanking Aeris and the others for their help.

 

Raking a hand through his loose hair, he turned and opened the door, stepping back into the room. Sephiroth drew up short as silver eyes looked up at him, Tseng sitting awake on the edge of the bed. A moment which could only be described as awkward washed through the room, but Tseng was the first to look away.

 

“We were looking for you,” Tseng commented, his voice breaking the uneasy silence. “Denzel and Marlene were worried about you. And you wouldn't answer the phone.”

 

Until Tseng thought to give him the explanation, Sephiroth hadn't even realized that a part of him had been angry about it. Those two should have never been anywhere near the tainted hell that formed his existence. If he hadn't felt the need to research what had been done to him, he would have already burned the place down if only to rid himself of that piece of his past.

 

“They shouldn't have been there,” he responded, hoping his tone came out neutral. Judging from the look on Tseng's face, the obvious flinch, he had failed.

 

“The same could be said for yourself.”

 

Sephiroth's lips pinched into a frown and another uncomfortable silence descended, thick and heavy in a room that suddenly felt too small. He knew there was a lot between them at the moment, but he simply didn't know where to begin. It was almost overwhelming, this lack of expertise in something that should have been instinct. But anything remotely emotional had been ruthlessly driven from him long ago. So much so that he wasn't certain if he were ever regain any of it.

 

The Turk raked a hand through his hair, wondering where his hair tie went. “If you had answered your phone, or even stopped disappearing, they wouldn't feel the need to search for you.”

 

“They are children,” Sephiroth responded, ignoring the other truths in Tseng's statements. “How difficult is it to say no?”

 

Another flinch. “You're only saying that because you haven't had to see the look in their eyes.” Tseng's head jerked up as he stared directly at Sephiroth, something sharp burning in the depths of his eyes. “Denzel has Geostigma and he's scared. Aeris takes good care of him but he sees you as a father.”

 

“I'm the last person he should consider for that role,” he countered bitterly. “I know nothing about the needs of a child.”

 

“Try telling him that and see if you can say the same.”

 

Sephiroth's fingers tightened around his phone and he idly wondered if that soft snick was the sound of it breaking. “You know that I won't. I'm not that cruel.”

 

Silver eyes slipped away from him. “It might be my fault that they were taken; I should have been stronger,” Tseng admitted quietly. “But it's not my fault alone, and I'm not going to apologize.”

 

“You were the one there,” Sephiroth countered, something in him beating a hurried rhythm that made his skin cold. “I don't see how you can sit there and say that so blatantly!”

 

“Because I'm tired of being the only one who apologizes,” Tseng snapped shortly, fingers of one hand tangling almost painfully in his own hair. “Especially when I'm not particularly sorry.”

 

Taken aback by the vehemence of the other man's response, Sephiroth was stunned, wondering if he had lost sense of the conversation at some point.

 

“What?”

 

The Turk sighed, elbows balancing on his knee as he stared at the floor. “I won't be like him,” he muttered,almost hesitantly. “So I refuse to apologize for caring. And I won't apologize for trying to show you that you have nothing to prove.”

 

Something inside of Sephiroth chose that moment to freeze, turning him to ice that churned unpleasantly. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he lied, nausea joining the sudden panic.

 

How could Tseng have known?

 

When the other man looked up, something in his face softened. He had probably been able to discern the slight note of panic in his lover's voice. “Yes, you do. I won't put voice to a nightmare.”

 

Sephiroth felt like he couldn't breathe, as if fingers were wrapped around his throat. “You lied then,” he hissed, knowing in an instant was Tseng was referring to.

 

Blood drained from his face with the knowledge that his secrets no longer were. How dare he? It wasn't something he ever wanted anyone to know. Just the memory was enough to make him feel unclean.

 

“I haven't.”

 

“I've not told you anything,” Sephiroth insisted through clenched teeth, his emotions swirling between anger and shame. “And you're the only one capable of finding out the truth for yourself.”

 

“I have not.” Tseng squared his jaw. “At least, not intentionally. I would have preferred your trust but I am also glad that I know because it has kept me from making a mistake and hurting you.”

 

Sephiroth scoffed, but it was more bitter than angry. “No one can hurt me.” His gaze shifted to the side as something inside of him twisted and died, turning poisonous and dark. “I was created perfect. Molded unbreakable.”

 

Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop recalling all the truths he had been trying to bury. He wanted to move on, to forget what he had been forced to endure. But it kept interfering, invading every attempt to find happiness. He was beginning to wonder if he even had any right to it all.

 

His voice was dead. “Nothing can break me.”

 

'Except everything,' Tseng countered inwardly, feeling a new hatred for Hojo all over again.

 

“No one is invincible. And that bastard knew it.”

 

The former General's head whipped towards the Turk. “You don't know what you're talking about!” he stated sharply, voice rising louder than he would have preferred. But there was no stopping the surge of everything.

 

A sharp stab of fear and disgust, shame and revile spiked through Tseng's senses and it was all coming from Sephiroth. He knew it must have seemed as if he was backing Sephiroth into a corner. He hadn't intended that from the beginning but he also knew, the would not turn back now.

 

“Sephiroth...”

 

“Stop!”

 

The response was a near shout as Sephiroth's breath came in harsh pants, an almost wild look in his eyes. One hand shot to his head, clutching nearly white-knuckled as he whirled away from Tseng, facing the wall.

 

“Just... stop. Don't say anymore.”

 

“Dammit, Sephiroth. You can't keep running away from it.”

 

“I'm not running!”

 

Tseng rose to his feet stiffly. “You are,” he insisted. “Pretending nothing happened, locking it all inside... all its doing it poisoning you.”

 

A sharp stab of pain rocketed through Sephiroth's head and he cringed, body instinctively hunching as the Geostigma chose that moment to act up as well. The agony was only a bare ache compared to what had sent him into unconsciousness before, but it tore at his brain and made his skin feel as if it were bathing in shards of ice.

 

“There's nothing to run from,” Sephiroth panted, trying to focus but failing miserably. “There's no reason... it was to make me stronger... they needed a soldier. That's me. The perfect soldier. Perfect...” he trailed off, words coming out more like gibberish than anything coherent.

 

Tseng felt a part of him breaking at the sight. If Sephiroth were anyone else, he would already be in tears, falling apart. But he was as strong as Hojo made him, slowly shattering bit by bit until nothing would be left of him but the emptiness Hojo crafted. Hojo did his job far too well. Tseng wished he could kill the bastard all over again.

 

He almost wished he had never seen Sephiroth's past, that he'd never known what the man had endured. He wished that he didn't have to be the one to force Sephiroth to face it. But he also knew he wouldn't give Sephiroth what he wanted. To ignore everything and just keep going. Maybe it was what he needed, maybe it wasn't. But Tseng wasn't going to be Hojo. He wouldn't hurt Sephiroth for the sake of it. He refused to take from Sephiroth what he wasn't entirely ready to give.

 

But most of all, he wished he knew what to say, what to do to make this right. He wished he knew how to help Sephiroth, how to fix everything that Hojo broke in him, that Jenova helped to crack and shatter further.

 

Instead, he stood there awkwardly, watching his boyfriend shake and fall apart, feeling the surge of his emotions that were full of such raw pain his own body trembled. And he didn't know what to do. Words failed him, though they would be useless anyways. This wasn't in the Turk handbook, no one ever gave him the Boyfriend Guideline.

 

He was ashamed of the part of him that longed for Zack to be there. Zack would know what to do, know how to calm Sephiroth. He would probably smile cockily, call him Seph as usual and do something. Tseng envied him for that closeness, for being able to bridge a gap that he sometimes felt he wouldn't ever be able to cross. Even after a year's time, he and Sephiroth weren't all that closer than they were before.

 

Irritated with his own uselessness, Tseng closed his eyes and sunk to the bed. It creaked beneath him, the room suddenly filled with a deadly silence.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Sephiroth's muttered declaration gathered his attention until he realized the other man was not talking to him.

 

Tseng chanced a glance at Sephiroth, only to have a shock of uncertainty and fear zip through him. The former General was trembling, his hands curled so tightly into fists that Tseng could see every tendon standing in stark relief beneath his skin. A drop of blood leaked from his fingers and dripped to the carpet.

 

“Get out of my head.” It was said slowly and carefully, almost as if Sephiroth had to force the words out.

 

Shock turned to understanding. Jenova. It had to be. She was calling to Sephiroth. He could feel it, a stirring of darkness in Sephiroth's psyche. That black, pulsing mass he had tried to ignore churning and growing in strength.

 

Worry began to replace the anger and helplessness. Tseng rose to his feet, tentatively calling to Sephiroth but not receiving any indication he had even been heard. That faint fear gained strength as a wave of tension swept through the room, almost like a surge of power. He watched as Sephiroth's back seemed to ripple, and his stomach churned at the sight of the Geostigma, creeping its way up Sephiroth's neck.

 

He had to do something.

 

Gathering up his determination, Tseng approached Sephiroth though he had no idea what to do. He hesitantly laid a hand on his lover's shoulder. The effect was instantaneous.

 

The former General whirled, a fist cocked on automatic response. Tseng only dodged in time because he was half-expecting to get attacked. He grabbed Sephiroth's arm as it shot out and yanked, throwing the man off balance. Locked half in his mind and fighting out of sheer instinct, Sephiroth struggled, lashing out with another fist.

 

Tseng was already prepared, stepping into Sephiroth's space and hooking a foot around Sephiroth's ankle. With the other male already off balance, it was easy to yank his stance out from under him. He was grateful for Jenova's distraction, otherwise he would have never been successful. With a thud, the two of them crashed to the ground quite painfully, a portrait on the wall rattling noisily.

 

Landing on top, Tseng wasted no time in grabbing Sephiroth's wrists and pinning them forcefully to the floor. He was under no illusions that he was strong enough to keep Sephiroth pinned but hopefully, he could break through Jenova's hold on him before getting seriously injured. Sephiroth's eyelids fluttered, showing confusion and pain as he groaned, sucking in a heavy breath.

 

“Back off bitch,” Tseng found himself snarling, even as he fought through the swells of nausea Sephiroth's swirling emotions left inside of him. “You're not having him again.”

 

Beneath him, Sephiroth moaned, a pained and garbled noise. He twisted his body in Tseng's grasp but made no real effort to get away. Hurt flashed across his face, likely from the pressure the position was putting on his back but Tseng wasn't taking the chance of releasing him.

 

Realizing that his words were of no use, Tseng was left with no choice but to attempt something drastic. Every time he caught a glimpse of Sephiroth's eyes, he found flashes of cat-like mako green and it terrified him. He was man enough to admit that a Sephiroth, fully controlled by Jenova, scared the absolute shit out of him.

 

His heart thundered in his chest, his fingers tightening around Sephiroth's wrist. Steeling himself, Tseng closed his eyes and tried to focus on that curl of ability inside of him. He hadn't managed to completely master it yet, but he was running out of options. Praying to a deity he didn't believe in that he wasn't going to damage his lover permanently, Tseng dove into Sephiroth's mind.

 

Almost immediately, he was surrounded by Jenova's voice. It was lilting and smooth at first, but then he recognized her cackle for what it truly was. She ranted and raged, attacking him the moment he entered what she considered her domain. He caught a glimpse of that mass of darkness. It had grown larger, starting to crack and wear.

 

Jenova dug her claws into him, dragging talons into his brain, but Tseng refused to be cowed. He fought back, shoving her existence away with a firm glare. The command that came from his mouth was both silent and wordless but they were effective.

 

The alien bitch screeched, her wails echoing inside his head painfully. He caught a glimpse of crimson eyes and blue skin, saw silver hair flowing endlessly before her presence abruptly vanished.

 

Tseng jerked out of Sephiroth's mind, feeling as if he had fought a mad battle. He was covered in sweat, pulse racing wildly. Drawing in a shaky breath, Tseng glanced down at Sephiroth, feeling the man grow slack beneath him.

 

“Sephiroth?”

 

“I'm fine,” the former general stated curtly, body tensing. Grey-green eyes slanted away, refusing to meet Tseng's gaze.

 

The Turk eyed him, easing his hold. “You don't--”

 

Sephiroth's jaw clenched. “I'm fine,” he reiterated harshly.

 

The emotions he emitted clearly said otherwise but Tseng wasn't going to push. He wisely moved, rising to his feet and off to the side. He watched as Sephiroth ignored him, rolling into a seated position on the floor. He curled one leg into his body, pulling the other towards him and resting an arm on his knee. Sephiroth purposefully kept his back to Tseng, refraining from even looking at him.

 

He broke the tense silence. “We need to rescue Denzel and Marlene,” he stated, using the voice that Tseng clearly recognized as his “General” tone. “We don't have time for anything else.”

 

The Wutaiian pursed his lips, forcing himself to restrain his anger. “She's getting stronger,” he commented. “Why didn't you say that you could hear her?”

 

“Zack was aware.”

“Dammit, Sephiroth. That's not enough and you know it.”

 

He watched the muscles in Sephiroth's back tighten with tension, rippling the darkening bandages. “There's nothing any of you could do. It would be pointless to lay my burdens on you.”

 

His voice was so cold and detached that Tseng was having trouble believing he was the same man. A part of him feared that he was already losing Sephiroth to whatever Hojo made him.

 

“Pointless,” Tseng repeated indignantly, a wave of hurt cresting over him before he could stop it. “Then what am I supposed to be? Just here? Standing around and watching you fall apart because it's pointless otherwise?”

 

“Tseng. Drop it.”

 

The Turk worked his jaw, staring angrily at Sephiroth's back. “And when do you suggest we talk? In another six weeks when you decide you're going to answer your phone? After the Geostigma's crippled you completely?”

 

His annoyance, mixing with hurt and making his words bitter, only grew as Sephiroth climbed to his feet. He watched as his lover stalked over to the chair where his clothes lay folded and pulled out his shirt.

 

“Have you forgotten?” Sephiroth demanded in a clipped tone, shoving his arms through his sleeves. “Marlene and Denzel are out there. I don't have time to stand here.”

 

“You're going after them alone?”

 

Deft fingers worked quickly at small buttons. “That had been my intention, yes.”

 

“Then I'm going with you.”

 

Sephiroth finally turned and looked at him, that same aura of command gathering around him. “Aeris just healed your shoulder and one of your swords--”

 

“I don't care,” Tseng interrupted, unwilling to allow Sephiroth to go alone. “I've suffered worse before completing a mission. And considering that you've barely have any feeling in that one arm, you're not one to talk.” He wasn't going to back down. Not with Jenova already playing her mind games with his lover. Besides, protecting the children had been his responsibility and he had failed miserably.

 

The man who was Sephiroth and not a leader seemed as if he was going to argue before the hardened look of the General won over. “Fine,” he agreed, jerkily grabbing the rest of his belongings. It was the only evidence of his disapproval. “I'm leaving in twenty minutes.”

 

Before Tseng could even respond, Sephiroth walked out of the room, the door swinging entirely open behind him. Left behind, the Turk signed and rubbed a hand over his face.

 

“That went slightly less than well,” he commented under his breath, feeling an incredible migraine descending.

 

“An understatement, I would say.”

The voice startled him. Tseng dropped his hand and looked up, finding his former subordinate standing in the open doorway. Given the situation, it shouldn't have been surprising that Rude was over at Aeris' home.

 

Tseng's shoulder suddenly ached. “You heard?”

 

“Not intentionally,” Rude responded, folding his hands in front of his body. “Do you want back-up, boss?”

 

The Turk shook his head. “I'm not your boss anymore, Rude.”

 

Despite the sunglasses, he knew that Rude was giving him that intent stare, one that spoke volumes without saying anything at all.

 

Tseng waved a hand. “I know. It goes without saying.” He paused, rubbing at his forehead before turning to scan the room, seeking something to pull back his hair. “No. You should stay here with Shera and Aeris. For their safety.”

 

“You think they will come here?”

 

“I do not know.” He frowned, mind still shuttering between Sephiroth and the brothers and all else that had been occupying his senses. “But I know Reeve. He'll probably send Reis and Revan here to keep them out of danger. And Nanaki and Yuffie won't likely stay long.”

 

Rude tipped his head. “You have a point.”

 

“Besides,” Tseng added with a hint of a smile. “You're an important man now. You have a family to protect.”

 

The new mayor of Rocket Town looked at him. “So do you, boss.” Clearing his throat, Rude gave a half-salute. “Take care of him.”

 

With that, Rude left him alone, silent, Turk-like steps taking him to somewhere else within the house. Tseng gave himself a minute to pull himself together before setting off to prepare for heading to the northern continent.

 

Minutes later, he made his way downstairs, fully cleaned and clothed, his remaining Tenken belted at his side. The loss of the other was something he hadn't given himself time to mourn. The twin Tenken were more than important to him; they were the last remnants of his parents. The swords were one of the few items his family had taken with them in their exile.

 

They were irreplaceable.

 

“Tseng.”

 

The Wutaiian looked up to find Aeris stepping out in front of him, Midori on one hip and a wrapped object in her other hand.

 

He blinked in confusion. “Aeris?”

 

She gestured towards him, a gentle smile on her lips. “I know that one of Tenken was broken,” the widower commented, pushing the item towards him.

 

He took it with some confusion, unwrapping the white cloth that bound it. Silver eyes widened in surprise as his gaze fell on a sword. It was a slightly different style than Kasai but near the same length.

 

Tseng drew it partially from the sheath, admiring the blade. It was polished and sharp, if not a bit worn. It had been used well. He tilted the sword towards the light, the silver edge catching it and outlining the wavy pattern along the metal.

 

“It's called Yoshiyuki,” Aeris explained in a fond tone. “It used to be Cloud's. We stored a few of his weapons here after the fight against Sephiroth.”

 

He looked up at her, fingers curling around the hilt. “But don't you want to save it for Midori? Or keep it for yourself?” he asked, despite every desire to wield it.

 

She smiled. “If Midori wants to be like her father that badly, I've plenty of others that once were his. He left enough of himself behind.”

 

“Thank you.” The words weren't honestly enough to express his gratitude. “I can fight with one sword but... my style is more effective with two.”

 

“I thought so,” Aeris responded, taking the cloth back. Midori gurgled on her hip, inspiring a smile from Tseng. “I know it's not an adequate replacement for the one you lost but...”

 

Tseng shook his head. “No. It's perfect.”

 

Relief spread across her features, chasing away some of the worry lines that had gathered there. “Then I”m glad.” Her eyes flickered past him to the window where she could just see Sephiroth outside, examining his bike. “Take care of him, ne?”

 

He sighed. “He doesn't make it easy.”

 

“Neither did Cloud.” Aeris tucked the cloth under her arm, shifting Midori from one hip to the other. Two different colored eyes continued to watch Tseng as if fascinated. “Don't let him get killed.”

 

“Easier said than done.”

 

Tseng curled his fingers around his new katana, the somewhat worn hilt rather welcoming. He had a feeling it would suit him just perfectly. He slipped it next to Koori. Yoshiyuki was slightly heavier than Kasai but the weight wasn't uncomfortable. A near perfect fit.

 

There was a pause in the conversation. “Tseng... is everything all right?” She hesitated. “I heard yelling.”

 

Shame nearly colored his cheeks. “I'm sorry. I did not intend--”

 

Aeris lifted her free hand, cutting him off. “I'm not upset, just worried.” Her eyes took on the look of a mother's, outlining the dark circles from concern under her eyes. “Bring them back. I know they're waiting.”

 

“We will,” Tseng vowed, because he had no intention of failing again. “I promise.”

 

“Good. Now get out of here.” Her voice was good-natured however.

 

Tseng offered her a smile, thin though it was. “Take care,” he countered, before turning to leave. Midori waved a small fist at him in parting.

 

Stepping outside, Sephiroth looked up at his approach. There was no warmth in his expression, nothing but the General. “We have to meet Highwind in twenty minutes. Are you ready?” he asked as he climbed onto his bike.

 

Tseng nodded.

 

“Then let's go.”

 

******