Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Dreams ❯ The Choices We Make ( Chapter 45 )

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Jeredu: I was beginning to wonder if I had lost you, I’m glad I haven’t. I feel proud that you enjoy my work enough to tell people you know about it. I’m not surprised about the straight guys. I have several straight friends who enjoy reading them, too. I’m awesome? Wow. You’re making my ego inflate. *Blush* Thanks!! I hope this chapter encourages you, too.

Ankou-Magpie: Yes, there is a Reeve/Reno prequel. It’s called Shattered Boundaries. I’m not sure when I’ll get to working on it but it will come out eventually. Thanks!!

(Voice in Head)
‘Internal Thought’
“Conversation”
Flashback

Chapter 45: The Choices We Make

The whir of the buffer was a pleasing sound to his ears. It was a reassuring sound, and although he felt extremely lonely, it always reminded him that there was somewhere he could turn to pour out his heart. Archer smiled to himself as he pulled the metal emblem away from the machine and held it up to the light, scrutinizing the edges with a delicate eye before determining it would need a few more seconds on the buffer. With a slight click, the machine started up again, and he returned to his thoughts.

Reno and he had been unsuccessful in locating anything important in terms of Balaam’s location, though they had run into a strange and large, green-plated monster beneath the sea. They had steered clear, however, and the creature made no attempts to attack them. Neither man had seen it before, but Archer dubbed it “Emerald Monster” since it looked just like the green gem.

With their attempts inconclusive, both men had returned to Midgar empty-handed. Reno had immediately sought out Reeve, waving a half-hearted goodbye at the engineer, and Archer was left to his own devices. Not really interested in returning to his empty home or his empty room aboard the Highwind, which was unfortunately located just next door to Cid’s, he headed for his workshop in the ShinRa building. He could easily lose himself among the smells of machinery and his greatest passion: creating things from metal, shaping the shining material into something worth looking at.

“Now, you are beginning to sound the part of a broody man,” came a familiar voice as Tiamat appeared behind him, her soft chuckle echoing in his ears. Archer didn’t even bother to turn around as he raised an eyebrow, pulling the metal design off the buffer and eyeing it carefully once more. It was no small wonder where the inspiration for the silvery-white dragon came from.

“Practice makes perfect,” he countered easily, satisfied with the way the charm had turned out before grabbing some nearby gems for the empty eye sockets. “And unfortunately, I have had far more practice than I am satisfied with.”

A head laid itself on his shoulder as the white-maned demi-goddess peered at the design. “My poor dragonet,” she clucked sympathetically. “However, I will not deny that your depression certainly produces fine artwork.”

“It is easy enough when one of the most beautiful females in existence just happens to be a demi-goddess that lives within your head,” Archer countered easily, waxing poetic with the barest amount of thought. The few women he had courted in his life had always told him that words dripped from his lips like sugar.

Tiamat laughed again before straightening, lightly cuffing him on the back of his head. “I dare you to let Seiryu hear that and see what he thinks,” she warned though her obvious mirth shone through. Her fingers delicately ran through his hair a second later. “I do not see how sulking about your situation is going to abate your loneliness.”

Archer sighed. “Frankly, I don’t either, but it’s the best idea I have right now.” He glanced over his shoulder, as if confirming the eye color of the demi-goddess before selecting two blue-violet diamonds. He grabbed some random device that would shave them down to the correct size and got to work.

The demi-goddess was quiet for a moment as she observed him, knowing the true reason behind his isolation. “You still miss him,” Tiamat commented softly, moving around him so that she could look her animus straight in the eye.

The engineer went still as he placed his hands down on the table, ignoring his creation for the moment. “Is it that obvious?” he questioned softly, unable to meet her probing gaze.

“Only to me as I can easily see inside your heart… as well as your mind,” the Myst dragon answered. “Still, there are times I am sure it was difficult for you to conceal it from the others.”

He exhaled, idly running a hand through his hair, tangling his fingers in the black strands, and accidentally pulling out the small tie. “Have you ever made a mistake… and then spent the rest of your life regretting your decision?” he questioned. “Everyday I get to see the fruits of my irrationality and stupidity, and it hurts. But as much as I wish I could have him back, I see how happy he is with Vincent, how desperately /in love/ he is with him, and I know I can’t break that up… not that I would try.”

“You more than miss him,” Tiamat responded with a hint of surprise, her hand cupping his cheek. “You still love him… and not just as a friend.” She should have known, having easy access to his inner thoughts and emotions, but she had afforded her beloved child his privacy. Nonetheless, it worried her. Was he only fooling himself with this sudden reverberation of love for a lost mate when before it had been the concern of a friend?

The engineer nodded. “Hopelessly.”

Tiamat shook her head solemnly. “Dearest heart, I do not know what I am to do with you.”

A small smile graced Archer’s face. “If it’s any consolation, I do not know either.”
But the expression was grim. He heartily wished he had never allowed Cid Highwind away from him all those years ago.

The dragoness ran her hand through his hair again, watching him with sad eyes. A thought formed on the edge of her conscious, but she hesitated in saying it. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings nor make him feel even more the failure, but she also did not want him to make any mistakes. Tiamat didn’t want him to attempt something that could never be, not that she thought Archer would actually try to divide Cid and Vincent. Yet, stranger things had been done for love.

“You’re considering something,” her little hatchling pointed out, as if he could tell the storm brewing in her features.

Tiamat inclined her head. “Have you ever considered…” She paused, changing her wording slightly so as not to offend. “Now, do not be angry with me, dragonet. After all, I cannot know every curve of your heart, but have you thought that perhaps you do not still love him. Perhaps you simply crave what you cannot have… or you desire what he does possess: a mate.”

Amethyst eyes turned down towards the table, one hand idly playing with the trinket he had created, running a thumb down the carefully crafted side. “I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “I’m not sure what to think anymore.”

Tiamat sympathetically wrapped her arms around his middle, humming gently to him as she had to her biological hatchlings when they were young. One hand went to run through his hair in a movement she knew would soothe him as she ran through the proper responses in her head. She was about to give him a suggestion when they were interrupted by a strange scratching thump on the outside of the door.

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Archer slipped free and moved towards the door, Tiamat watching from afar. He opened it and looked into the hall, finding a rather embarrassed Nanaki gazing up at him. His eyes widened in surprise and unintentionally, he raised a brow in slight surprise.

“I apologize,” the lion wolf uttered by way of explanation, “but in this form I am incapable of knocking.”

Archer chuckled lightly, bemused by Nanaki’s attempt and the fact that he felt it was necessary to apologize. “That’s quite alright. Were you looking for me?”

Nanaki nodded. “Are you busy? I’m in need of your aid.”

A slight tingle at the back of Kyle’s head was all the proof he needed that Tiamat had already made herself scarce, momentarily considering their conversation over. With an accommodating smile, Archer pushed the door all the way open and gestured Nanaki inside.

“I’m guessing Reeve told you I was here, assuming he knew from Reno?” Kyle asked as Nanaki padded inside.

Golden eyes gazed about the room, taking in the many tables filled with mysterious objects he knew nothing of and the general cluttered look. “Yes, I tried your home… but, of course, received no answer.”

“I don’t spend much time there,” Archer responded, pushing the door shut and returning to his seat at the work table. “So what can I do for you?”

“I heard you were a metalsmith of sorts,” Nanaki responded, getting straight to the point. He sat on his haunches in the room, unable to stop his curiosity from sweeping about the room in great arcs, absorbing every detail. Archer raised another eyebrow, feeling a vague echo of Yuffie’s visit the previous day.

He shrugged elegantly. “A mere hobby… though I am surprised so many people know about it.” The engineer fiddled with his newest project, wondering what Nanaki had come to him for.

In turn, the other male cleared his throat, an almost strange sound coming from his lupine form as he regarded Archer evenly. Before he spoke, he raised one of his paws, showing remarkable dexterity as he plucked a materia from his armlet and holding it out to the engineer, who gently took it. The small greenish orb swirled and pulsed lightly in Kyle’s hand. Again, Archer couldn’t help but raise a brow.

“I want that made into a necklace, simple in design, yet also refined with a hint of mischievousness,” Nanaki explained a bit unsure of himself, sounding almost as if he were embarrassed.

“Like a certain someone we both know?” Archer teased as he rolled the materia back and forth in his hand, instantly recognizing it as the lion wolf’s favorite: Earth.

If it were possible for someone of Nanaki’s kind, the engineer was certain the lion wolf was blushing. His eyes lowered, and he stared at the floor. In the back of his mind, he could hear Tiamat nearly cooing with the cuteness of it all. Demi-beings were very odd at times.

“It is a gift,” the other male mumbled.

Archer laughed. “It’s alright; I understand completely,” he responded, instantly remembering the visit from the day before. They were just too damned cute! He couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever been that young. “How soon do you need it?”

Nanaki pondered the question, still fighting down his lingering embarrassment. “I wouldn’t want to take time away from finding Balaam, but I would like to give the gift before we leave once he is located.”

The engineer bit his lip to keep from beaming, another teasing taunt on the edge of his tongue with Tiamat giggling in the background. However, he couldn’t help it when he wriggled his eyebrows and the words came out on their own… really, he couldn’t. It was entirely an accident.

“As sort of a ‘fare thee well I’ll always be with you’ type gift, eh?”

He swore that Nanaki flushed again, even as he shook his head, little beads clacking one against the other. “Just a gift from friend to friend. Perhaps an apology.”

“For what?” Archer couldn’t help it, curiosity eating at him now that Yuffie and he had a heart to heart. He really wanted to hear Nanaki’s side as well.

The lion wolf sighed, looking down at the floor once more. “I’ve been rather… cold to her as of late. We are friends above all. Nothing should change that, not my form. No matter what happens in the future, we’ll always be that.”

‘Ah, you say that, my friend, but you would wish it to be more,’ the engineer put in internally. However, he didn’t voice it aloud as the lion wolf was skittish.

“I’ll get to it right away,” were the words that ended up escaping from his mind instead.

“Thank you,” Nanaki replied with a slight bow of his head before he rose to his feet. “I have to be going now, packing and such. We’re leaving first thing in the morning for Wutai.” As he moved towards the exit, Archer laid the gleaming materia on the counter, rising to open the door for the lion wolf.

“It’s no problem,” the engineer intoned as he turned the knob. “Over the past six months, all of you have become my closest friends. I’m actually flattered that you would come to me.”

Nanaki padded out into the corridor, turning about and ducking his head just slightly in agreement. “We have always been more than friends, Archer. We are all family.” He paused before grinning wolfishly. “A demented and rather insane one… but family nonetheless.”

Archer beamed in return. “I would say it is an honor, but I’m not sure if it would be a slight on my own sanity, so I’ll just say thank you once again.”

The lion wolf laughed softly as he padded away. “I’m still not certain myself,” came his reply as he disappeared down the hall towards the elevator. Archer watched his exit for all of a moment before shaking his head and chuckling, turning back towards his abandoned work and desk.

With a flash, Tiamat appeared again. He didn’t know why she bothered to disappear, except that perhaps she knew Nanaki would have preferred his request to remain private. She was smiling beautifully as she watched her animus return to his seat, pick up the buffer, and get back to work on the amethyst stone. The green materia was still lying on the table.

“I find it amusing that both would come to you, nearly within twenty-four hours of one another,” the demi-goddess commented as she watched him do what he did best.

The engineer shook his head. “As do I. It is comforting to know, however, that I am trusted.” He truly wished the two the best in overcoming their problems… now, if only he could solve his own. His attempts at broodiness were beginning to get easier and easier, despite trying to remain lighthearted? When had he become so infected with despair?

Tiamat watched him with curious eyes, knowing full well the conflicting emotions that were raging inside, she but didn’t say a word. At the moment, Archer did not need the words of a nearly ageless being, but that of his mortal friends. And given the situation, with the war so near, no one really had the time. Such was the way in periods of conflict.

It was an unfortunate and sobering truth.

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(A/N: To understand this scene, I would strongly suggest reading Episode 4 of Misunderstood first. I make several references to it that I will not explain.)

Sephiroth always found that he thought best when he lost himself to the rhythm of practice, swinging the blade in a dance of intricate moves and twisting through the air with the dance of war. Still, he knew that the arena was occupied at the moment, and he didn't want the questions, not when he had so many of his own broiling about his head.

So he found himself borrowing Zack's favorite thinking spot, sitting on the roof of the Neo-ShinRa building with his legs over the side of the ledge. It was hot on the roof, the sun glaring down on him and his all black clothing, causing him to sweat profusely and pull his hair back off his neck. Regardless, he didn't really want to go indoors. He hated to be enclosed, especially when he had something to brood on.

When Vincent had approached him, he wasn't sure what to expect. He still remembered the strange words the man had whispered before slaying his Jenova-infested body, while the ex-Turk himself was in his Chaos form. However, he had never thought much of them, chalking up the words to his imagination. At the time, he wasn't really very coherent, but then, the dark-haired man had come to him in the midst of his practice and asked to speak to him. Vincent had cut his own search short and sought Sephiroth out for a purpose.

Yet, the man refused to speak until they were alone….

They stood in a small conference room in the ShinRa building, neither of them really willing to sit. Vincent seemed distracted, almost as if he were forming his words carefully and seeming like he hadn't really made up his mind yet. He hovered near the table, closest to the door. Sephiroth furrowed his brow, wondering what the ex-Turk would have to say to him but remained silent, allowing Vincent the time he needed to compose himself. He, in turn, was near a chair, contemplating whether or not he should sit upon it when, finally, the gunman spoke.

He looked up, grey eyes locking onto the former General. "What do you know of your origins?" The question was point blank, no skirting around the issues.

For the moment, Sephiroth was taken aback by the abrupt question. He frowned, looking down to the ground as he considered.

"I was raised as a ward of ShinRa… Hojo made it absolutely clear to me that his genetics were a part of mine and my mother was Jenova," the ex-SOLDIER responded thoughtfully.

“But she is not,” Vincent countered simply. “You had a human mother, Sephiroth. Her name was Lucrecia.” There was a tone to the gunman’s voice that the slightly taller man wasn’t sure he recognized. It was reminiscent of regret and bitterness, tinged with hurt and anger. Once again, the words from that fateful day echoed within him.

Sephiroth’s head snapped up, and he regarded the ex-Turk with a rather cold expression. “How do you know?” he demanded before stalking closer to the gunman. “How is it that you have so much knowledge of my past when there are no clear records of anything?”

Vincent inclined his head, easily meeting the other man’s gaze. He was not alarmed in the slightest. “I was there, thirty years ago, when Hojo and Lucrecia first embarked on their quest to defy the laws of nature.”

The former General was confused as Vincent certainly didn’t look like a man who was somewhere around sixty years old. “You…?” He searched for the right question. “What?”

The ex-Turk merely frowned. “I did not come to divulge my secrets… but to ask if you wanted to know meet your mother… your /true/ mother.”

“I--” Sephiroth faltered, never having truly thought he would ever really find the woman who had birthed him. “I don’t…”

“We will leave tomorrow, utilizing chocobos as it is quite difficult to reach her location.” The ex-Turk paused, considering his words as he regarded the former General with an even, stone-grey gaze. “This is your opportunity to find the untainted truth from the mouth of someone who knows. Perhaps afterwards, I will answer your questions concerning my person.”

The younger man sighed as he absorbed the sudden influx of information and the question he had not been prepared for. He absentmindedly ran an anxious hand through his hair before meeting those curious eyes. What was it about the ex-Turk that seemed so familiar? Why had he said those words? The opportunity to get many of his questions answered was too much for him to pass up.

He nodded slowly. “I will go with you to see my mother.”

“Very well. And if you would like your friend to come, he may accompany us.” Who the gunman was referring to needed no explanation. It was well known that the former General felt the most comfortable when he was around Zack, even their five year separation had not managed to dilute that fact.

A sudden thought occurred to the younger man at Vincent’s suggestion. “Will Cid be coming?” Sephiroth inquired, feeling the need to ask.

Something flickered behind Vincent’s eyes, but he shook his head negatively. “No. This is between you, I, and our pasts. My future has no place on this journey.”

Sephiroth inclined his head in understanding. “Clearly.”

An eyebrow twitched. “We will leave at noon. Meet me at the chocobo paddocks on the basement level.” With that said, Vincent turned on his heels and headed for the door, considering their rather short conversation to be over. Yet, before he could get through the entryway, Sephiroth’s quiet voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Why did you say those things?” Again, it was obvious to what the former General was referring.

The ex-Turk seemed to ponder on the query, though he did not turn around. “Perhaps after you meet her, you will understand,” came the final cryptic response.

Without another word, Vincent continued out the door, leaving no room for further questioning. Sephiroth was left to his own devices and his own confusing, swirling thoughts.

That had been almost two hours ago.

(And yet you are still brooding about it,) Gilgamesh stated, the demi-god making his presence known. (You have already made your choice. Why continue to pick apart every last nuance?)

“Because I can,” the former General responded unreasonably before returning to his musings. There were times Gilgamesh had important things to say, and then, there were times he was just speaking because he was bored. Sephiroth had the feeling that this was one of the latter.

Directly after Vincent had left, Sephiroth had continued to stand for several moments in silent contemplation before seeking out his own place to brood in peace. Obviously, the ex-Turk knew the most of his origins, the same truths that Hojo had always neglected to speak to him. Still, the timeline confused him.

Though he had memories of stumbling across the name “Valentine” in Hojo’s documents the first time he had come to Nibelheim and scattered remnants of nightmares when he had first encountered the dark-haired “thing” that was his mother’s killer as Hojo claimed, he wondered how the Vincent he had just spoken to was connected to it all.

Why would the man even seek him out at all? It wasn’t as if he owed Sephiroth this favor, this truth about his mother. To come to him, seemingly out of nowhere, hedging about the facts and claiming that it would all come out after… he just knew that there was something Vincent was hiding and wasn’t sure if he was ready to say yet. The ex-Turk was remarkably easy to understand, even after only a few moments of talking to him. He sensed a kinship with the man, the same taint of Hojo in his wary gaze.

In some way, Hojo had managed to defile everyone he touched, corrupting them so that it was visible to those of the same fate, and they could always recognize others with a similar contamination. It was a look to the eye, a haunted yet furious gleam. Rather than destroy the hope of his creations, more often than not, Hojo managed to reforge them into something stronger, yet invariably cracked and twisted. It was an almost cruel irony, to escape the claws of the mad scientist, only to be forever infected with his inhumanity.

Sephiroth loathed that part of himself, the half of his genes that made Hojo his father. That was one of the things that had always separated him from the other boys at the dorms when he was just beginning in ShinRa. Most of their fathers were proud of them, loved them, encouraged them… and what he did get? Rebukes for his failures, pain that was a part of “maturing and becoming strong”, taunts of uselessness, and test after test in a growing repertoire of a madman that was determined to make him into the ultimate SOLDIER.

(And he succeeded,) Gilgamesh muttered, his voice dripping with distaste. The demi-god held no love for Hojo either, knowing the pain that the scientist had caused his animus.

Sephiroth nodded in agreement. “That he did, but his victory was his undoing. My madness invoked the revenge that caused his death… a rather fitting end and at the hands of the pilot, no less, or so I heard.” A friendly flower-girl had been his source of information for that when he had pulled her aside for a moment to ask what had actually occurred.

Thoughts of Hojo inevitably returned his musings to the past, memories of things he would rather forget, and what he had become floated to the surface. He had been stripped of his humanity, turned into a being with blood so mako infected that it was poisonous to others. Emotions had been sufficiently absent in his thoughts, and let him not forget his skills of deadly precision. He had been nothing more than a machine, an organic one… but a machine still.

He had been general of an army at the age of eighteen. He had won a war before he was twenty-one. Nothing in his life could be considered normal. His past was nothing more than a continuous barrage of mako injections and training, the monotony not even enough to be noticed because all sense of feeling had been buried beneath layers of stoicism.

It wasn’t until a grinning man with a head of dark spiky hair and a stubborn tenaciousness forced himself into Sephiroth’s life that he even realized there was still some humanity left, though it was deeply hidden. He owed a great deal to Zack for many things, the least of which he would be repaying for the rest of his unnatural life. As a result, the spiky-haired man was the only person on Gaia that Sephiroth trusted, Gilgamesh and Masa excluded.

And speaking of chocobos, he really ought to check on her welfare before leaving for wherever he was going with the ex-Turk. Then again, Masa was a mountain chocobo... perhaps he should take her?

(He is an interesting one, the forgotten host,) Gilgamesh commented with a musing sigh as the General’s mind wandered, and Sephiroth could just imagine the cloaked demi-god to be rubbing his chin with two fingers. (He is very difficult to read, wearing secrets like they were a cloak.)

“Yes,” his animus answered aloud, weary of speaking within his own head. “But what secrets? What exactly will I learn tomorrow? Is it more than the meeting of my mother? I sense there is something more to the entire matter… lest he would have never sought me out in the first place.”

“Who sought you out? Not my competition I hope?” came the loudly called question in a teasing and very familiar voice. The door slammed shut behind the interloper, who didn’t bother to close it gently, as boots trod across the roof towards the perched General.

Sephiroth sighed. “My dear friend, I pity the person who has to compete with you,” he responded, half-looking over his shoulder, finding that the spiky-haired man was grinning as he strode towards him. That unfailing self-assured grin… Sephiroth knew it was something that Zack would never lose.

The other man laughed as he moved to sit beside Sephiroth, nearly an exact repeat of what had occurred the day before except now their roles had reversed. “I always knew you wanted to be just like me,” the ex-SOLDIER teased, gently nudging his companion with his shoulder.

“Merely a convenience.” Sephiroth sniffed haughtily, turning his gaze back to the horizon and idly fiddling with one of his buckles. It took a moment for him to realize what he was doing, suddenly quitting the action altogether. “The training center was occupied, and I didn’t want any questions.”

“Does that mean I can’t ask any?” Zack queried, crystalline eyes never leaving his closest friend. He could tell with just a look that the former General was thinking of something, and that he was angsting over some event or truth that he had recently discovered. It was painfully easy to read Sephiroth sometimes, and Zack had learned how to slip underneath the other man’s mask.

The other man didn’t respond, however, going silent for a moment as he contemplated the sky. Why was it that night always fell swifter in Midgar? The sun would slowly set, gently trailing down the sky, until it would suddenly plunge beneath the horizon, bathing the lands in twilight. Still, that only lasted for a few minutes before darkness covered everything, stars slowly twinkling into life, one by one. It was both intriguing and beautiful.

“I spoke with Valentine today,” Sephiroth said, seemingly out of nowhere. He did not look at Zack as he spoke, instead his steady gaze looking out at nothing.

“The ex-Turk?” Zack questioned, mildly surprised. “The one that killed you? Why?”

“He came to me,” the former General answered before turning to face his friend. “He claims he can take me to my mother.”

Eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline in question. “How’s that?”

Sephiroth shrugged elegantly, a decidedly graceful motion on him. “I can’t say. He was very vague… and secretive, I might add. And he refused to answer my questions until after I met… her, saying that I would understand better then.”

To be honest, even to himself, it all sounded like a trap. Only, he knew Vincent was not going to attempt to kill him. The only person who seemed like they desired his death was Cloud, and Sephiroth had the feeling there was a story behind that as well. The others merely regarded him with distrust, tolerating his existence but not really accepting him. Excluding Tseng, Aeris, and Zack, Sephiroth felt like the entire world despised him… which was probably what he deserved considering his past misdeeds.

Zack peered at him, as if trying to decipher his inner thoughts. “Do you think you can believe him? I mean, he certainly doesn’t appear any older than you. How would he know your mother? /No one/ but Hojo knew your mother.”

“Lucrecia,” Sephiroth quietly responded. “He says her name is Lucrecia, and he was there the day that she and Dr. Hojo decided to use her son and her as science projects.” His hand unknowingly curled into a fist. “A child….” he murmured, shaking his head. “A goddamn child without a choice.”

It surprised him sometimes, this anger he still managed to draw up for Hojo. He suspected that why he reacted so violently five years prior, destroying Nibelheim and finding it easy to listen to /her/ voice. Hojo had always told him Jenova was his mother… Jenova was the voice in his head. The connection there was easy to distinguish.

But as for the violence, deliberate burning, and slaying of Nibelheim… He had been stripped of emotion, made into a killing machine, and he had been filled with that righteous anger over his origins, over his life. His mind just couldn’t process it, couldn’t handle it on a mature level… on any level. So he had reacted with all the emotion of a child, striking out at what he blamed for his pain.

Guilt consumed him on many levels for those deeds, but again, it was a feeling he was having a hard time comprehending on normal levels. Even after all this time and Zack’s continued teaching, he still didn’t really understand human emotion, not of those his own making and especially not those in others. They couldn’t be scientifically explained, analyzed with accuracy, or their true depth found in any book. It was that truth that often had him floundering when it came to dealing with people. Of course, he hadn’t exactly had a very good role model as a child, so perhaps it was understandable.

A hand gripped his arm comfortingly, reminding him that he was not alone as crystalline eyes turned sympathetically in his direction. “It never mattered… no one had a choice,” Zack responded.

Sephiroth nodded, returning his gaze back to the horizon. “I want you to come with me tomorrow. In fact, Vincent suggested that you do so.”

Zack agreed solemnly, but that was only until another thought struck him. He grinned slyly, a motion Sephiroth caught out the corner of his eye.

“Are you sure you don’t want another dark-haired man to come?” Zack inquired with a smirk. “That way you can throw yourself into his arms and cry and clutch and--“

“Zack.” The former General frowned, shaking his head. “You are impossible.”

“Just a suggestion, Seph,” the other man replied pleasantly. “Of course, I’ll come, but only if you make me.” He wiggled his eyebrows again, laughing when the smallest hint of a blush tugged at the older man’s cheeks.

“I think you were dead for too long. Your usually high hormone level has reached astronomical heights,” Sephiroth retorted, feeling slightly better due to the ex-SOLDIER teasing. No matter what happened, he was certain that if he went out of his mind again, both Zack and Vincent could take him down. Even if Jenova was no longer gone, he couldn’t say what actually meeting his mother would do to him.

“Hey!” Zack protested indignantly. “I’m not the same horny teenager I was back then! Take it back.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You are correct… I admit.” His smile turned into a smirk. “You’re worse.”

There was a mock growl seconds before Zack tackled him, shoving them both to the roof of the building just behind them where they proceeded to scuffle about in a most undignified rumble. And after Sephiroth won, as he always did, they realized a most startling fact.

Nothing had changed between them. Nothing at all.

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