Chapter 3
Sephiroth studied the man across from him, and the way Vincent studied him in turn, as though reading his mother's features in his face. Sephiroth wasn't ready to accept as fact that this man was his father, but the possibility... had to be explored.
"You were my mother's lover," said Sephiroth. Let them start there, with the extent of this man's connection to him. "Was it serious?"
Vincent hesitated, a faint knot appearing in his brow. "I thought it was," he said. "For my part... I loved her in a way I have never loved anyone. I would have done anything for her."
"But?"
"...I asked her to leave Hojo, and run away with me. She refused. She said, I didn't understand her ambition, that her work was too important to abandon. At least he understood that, she said."
Sephiroth said nothing, his hands clenching into fists atop the table. So she'd shared that quality of Hojo's, had she? His mother?
"I thought many times after that," Vincent went on, "if there was some plan I might have enacted on my own. To discredit Hojo, to make him disappear... But, it wasn't what she wanted."
"You should have killed him," Sephiroth stated.
Vincent met his gaze. "Probably."
"You seem to think that this Lucrecia would have done better by me. Was I not the product of her ambition as well?"
Vincent shook his head. "Whatever her faults, Lucrecia loved you. I believe she would have been a mother to you first, and a scientist second."
And what would that have looked like? Sephiroth wondered, but he stopped himself from exploring the thought. He needed to make sense of his reality, not dwell on might-have-beens. "Well, she never had the chance to be anything to me. The fact of the matter is, it fell to Hojo, and he only considers himself a scientist, despite his lack of talent."
"Was Gast not involved?" Vincent wondered.
"He... died," said Sephiroth. "According to Hojo, anyway. When I was still small."
"That's a pity. He was... a kinder man than Hojo, at least."
"You didn't care for him?"
Vincent thought for a moment. "He disappointed me," he decided. "I thought that human experimentation was a line he wouldn't cross. Without his approval, the Project wouldn't have moved forward."
Sephiroth hesitated. "Was I... conceived for the experiment? Or simply a convenient situation?"
"I..." Vincent faltered, stopped, and began again. "Certainly it was never my intention. As for Lucrecia, I can't be sure. I knew she wanted a child. I knew they had discussed the concept of a human hybrid. Whether she made the decision before or after she discovered she was pregnant... I don't know."
"You were against it," Sephiroth observed, "but she ignored your wishes."
"She said it was her decision, and I think... she believed you were Hojo's child. Either way, I could hardly have disputed it without revealing the affair, and putting her in danger. So I... did nothing."
Sephiroth studied him, tapping a finger against the table. "Earlier you said that you tried to stop Hojo. That he perceived you as a threat to the Project. How can that be if you did nothing?"
"I acted too late," said Vincent, again that faraway look as he studied Sephiroth's face. "When Lucrecia fell ill... Gast was away at Headquarters, so I went to Hojo. I demanded he help her. I told him... that if he didn't, then I would fight to claim you. That any test would show he wasn't your father."
"But you didn't know," said Sephiroth.
Vincent shook his head. "No. But I was desperate, and angry, and stupid. I should have anticipated his reaction. I should have seen the gun before he drew it. I didn't... and now, here we are. Twenty-five years later, strangers to one another. I... have no right to say I am your father. It's meaningless."
Was it? Vincent hadn't thought of him as an experiment, but a child. Would he have held Sephiroth's hand, read him faerie tales?
What-ifs again. That time was long past. What did Vincent offer him now, in the present, as a father? Honesty? As stories went, it was plausible. Vincent sounded earnest.
So then, had he had two human parents after all? Hybrid, Vincent had called him. He was of two worlds. Whatever it meant to be a Cetra... But then, he'd never really understood what it meant to be human, either. There were no guidelines for what he was, who he was.
Sephiroth realized he was staring absently at the dish in front of him, and at last he stabbed a fork into it. Whether it would help his headache or not, he didn't know, but it was a necessary biological process, wasn't it? Human or Cetra. No need to deliberate over that.
He wasn't used to making choices. All his life, he'd followed the path Shinra had laid out for him. The compliant lab rat turned SOLDIER trainee turned war hero, accepting the freedoms they allowed him as enough. He'd never known how to imagine something outside of that.
There was no going back after this, but he didn't know the way forward. It was unwritten. Something no one could tell him.
No one?
"What do you know of Jenova?" he asked Vincent. "There is a sealed door at the reactor with her name on it. Is she kept there?"
"In my time, yes," said Vincent with a shake of his head. "But Jenova... is only a specimen. Cells preserved in Mako."
"Gast's notes suggest she's in some sort of stasis," Sephiroth insisted. "Still alive."
Vincent frowned. "You want to see it," he concluded.
"Yes. Maybe she is what you said--nothing more than a collection of cells. But if she's more than that, then I can't allow her to remain there. She is... still my mother, after a fashion." And perhaps they had more in common than he did with Lucrecia, or with Vincent. She'd been held there for decades, used by Hojo, denied any choices. The only one of her kind.
Vincent let out a soft sigh. "I suspect the code for that door has changed in the interim, but we may find our way in. But, let us do it tomorrow. Your men told me you were dispatched here because of a monster problem. The journey will be better in daylight, with more rest."
"...very well," Sephiroth conceded. "In the morning, we'll go."
Zack would come, too, he supposed, picking at his meal. He wasn't about to trust his back to Vincent. Not yet. He had no proof, only words and an uncanny resemblance. Maybe he would contact Headquarters before they set out, and see if he could unearth anything to support Vincent's story. Who to request it from? Who did he think he could trust?
"You're left-handed," Vincent remarked softly, out of nowhere.
Sephiroth glanced up. "What of it?"
"So was Lucrecia," said Vincent. "I... Would it be all right if I asked you some questions?"
"What sort of questions?"
"About you."
Sephiroth scoffed. "You know more about me than I do."
Vincent shook his head. "I know your origins. I don't know you. How long have you been in SOLDIER? Where do you live? How do you spend your time?"
Sephiroth regarded him thoughtfully. It was hardly the first time he'd heard questions like that, and typically he dismissed them, knowing his answers would be lacking. His life was empty of so many of the experiences common to normal people, the experiences they used to relate to one another. They wouldn't relate to that emptiness.
But it was different with Vincent, wasn't it? He wasn't trying to build a connection out of shared experiences. He wanted to fill a hole in his knowledge. The knowledge of his son. If Sephiroth really was his son.
"...I joined SOLDIER, officially, when I was fifteen," said Sephiroth. "My combat skills already rivaled those of a First Class SOLDIER, but I lacked the command abilities, so I shadowed other officers, for a while." He hadn't known how to deal with people; he still didn't, but he'd learned to play the part they wanted for him. "When I was seventeen, they sent me to the front."
"A war with Wutai," said Vincent. "Zack mentioned it."
Sephiroth nodded. "It ended eighteen months ago. Wutai fell to forces under my command."
"And now they send you on missions like this one."
"I prefer the small assignments. Villages like this one don't have the resources for unnecessary fanfare."
Vincent's expression softened. "I suppose I'm glad it hasn't gone to your head."
"Zack thinks it wouldn't kill me to enjoy it a little."
"The two of you are friends, not just colleagues?"
"Maybe," said Sephiroth. "...probably."
"Good," said Vincent.
"...it's strange to hear that, from a Turk."
Vincent tilted his head. "Is it?"
"The way you value connection, and what you want for me, even though I may after all be the son of your rival... The Turks I know only live to follow orders."
"I didn't used to be any different," Vincent admitted. "But... I felt I was protecting a way of life. For people who were better at taking advantage of it than I was."
Sephiroth nodded slowly. Maybe they did have something in common. "I've... never been good at that either."
"Have you ever been in love?" Vincent wondered.
"No," said Sephiroth. There was one thing he knew with absolute certainty.
"I hope you experience it, one day. It changes things."
Sephiroth squinted at him. "It worked out terribly for you. Didn't it?"
"I suppose there's no denying that. I lost Lucrecia. I lost... too many years. My humanity, probably. But..." Vincent lifted his gaze from his clawed hand to look at Sephiroth. "There is you."
"Me?"
"You may be the product of scientific ambition... but I believe you are also the product of the love we shared. That doesn't strike me as a terrible outcome."
"I... don't understand it," Sephiroth confessed.
"It feels simple, yet difficult to explain. I could never have imagined you, and that... astounds me. How whole you are."
Whole? Sephiroth thought, taken aback. There was nothing about him that felt whole.
"I hope..." Vincent went on, "that you will allow me to know you. There is no way I can redress the years I missed, but I want to be a part of your present."
Sephiroth didn't know how to respond. Maybe Zack was open with his affection, but it was casual with him, an easy camaraderie he extended to anyone who would tolerate it. Everything about Vincent's manner suggested this was neither easy nor casual for him. There was a depth and intensity to the feelings he expressed.
But, wasn't it only because he'd loved Sephiroth's mother? Because he wanted some remnant of her to hold onto? How long would Vincent strive to be a part of his life, once he realized any similarities were only skin-deep?
And, did Sephiroth even want him around? What use did he have for a father now?
"...we'll see," he said cautiously.
Vincent, who had been leaning forward slightly, sat back now, dropping his gaze. "I understand," he said quietly. "I've hardly proven myself to you."
"You haven't even proven you really are my father," Sephiroth pointed out.
"Of course I'll submit to a test."
"Nibelheim doesn't have the facilities," Sephiroth said with a frown. But to trust that test to a Shinra lab...
Vincent must have guessed his thoughts, because he offered, "Perhaps Cosmo Canyon would? Gast knew a scientist there who had broken with Shinra, and... No, he must be dead by now. But he had colleagues."
"I suppose it might do."
"But... Even if the test shows I am not your biological father..." Vincent faltered. "It doesn't change my intent. I would be a friend to you, if I could."
"And if I tell you I want nothing more to do with you?" Sephiroth wondered.
Vincent's mouth pressed into a line, and then he shook his head. "It will take more than that to be rid of me."
"I don't need a father," Sephiroth stated, "or whatever you are to me."
"Perhaps not. But you are allowed to have things you don't need."
Sephiroth sat back with an incredulous laugh. "Do you have such a high opinion of yourself?" he asked.
Vincent shook his head. "No. But I think you've wanted family for a long time. I want to offer you that."
Sephiroth glared at him, for the presumption of knowing him that well. But...
He wasn't wrong.
Hadn't he imagined, when he was small, that his mother was still alive and that she might come to rescue him, as people did in faerie tales? He'd given up imagining a very long time ago, and the longing had given way to envy, and then to bitter resentment. People who were close to their families, who relied on them, were weak. They were beneath him.
But the moment he'd seen that door marked Jenova, before he could understand what it meant, there had been that tiny flash of hope. That he'd found her. That he could belong to someone--not in the sense that he had belonged to Hojo, but in the way that people belonged with each other. Kinship. Connection.
And in the next moment, he'd known that wasn't what lay behind that door at all. He hadn't had a mother who'd died giving birth to him, that wasn't what Jenova was. He didn't belong to anyone except in the way he had belonged to Hojo.
Vincent had reopened the possibility. He was insisting, regardless of blood, that he and Sephiroth could belong to one another. It might be stupid to accept that so readily, but would it be weakness to accept it in time?
"And what would we do together," Sephiroth asked, "as father and son?"
Vincent spread his hands across the table. "Anything," he said.
"Did you want a child?" Sephiroth wanted to know.
"I hadn't considered it before Lucrecia spoke of it," Vincent admitted, "but then... it became something I wanted. You were wanted, Sephiroth."
Of course Shinra had wanted him, but to be wanted for who he was rather than what he was...
Instinct told him to reject it. It wasn't real. It wouldn't last.
"I've... heard enough," he said, "for one day." He stood, pushing his hair out of his face. "I think it's time I returned to the inn."
Vincent stood with him. "Should I accompany you?" he asked.
That simple question made Sephiroth stop and consider Vincent's predicament for the first time. A man out of time. Nibelheim likely hadn't changed much, but the rest of the world certainly had, and Vincent knew of it only what they'd told him. His place in it was as uncertain as Sephiroth's.
Sephiroth imagined leaving him here among the dust and cobwebs, as though he were just another relic. A secret to be abandoned and forgotten all over again. Sephiroth might choose never to return for him, to reject everything he represented.
"I think we've both spent long enough in this place," he decided.
Vincent nodded. Sephiroth blew out the candles, throwing the dining room into darkness, but neither of them had any trouble finding their way out of it.
Sephiroth stepped out of the mansion into the night air for the first time in days. He wouldn't call it fresh--the metallic scent of Mako still lingered--but not so stagnant as the air inside. A light breeze brushed across his skin, blowing hair into his face.
Zangan and Brian Lockhart stood just outside the gate, as though waiting for him. "What have you been up to in there?" Lockhart demanded as he pushed it open to step through. "Who is that?"
Sephiroth ignored the questions. "Tomorrow we'll return to the reactor to complete the mission," he said. "You have nothing to worry about."
"You Shinra and your secrets..." muttered Lockhart.
He had no idea, Sephiroth thought wryly. "I have decided to cut ties with Shinra," he said, "but I will still do what I came here to do."
The two men exchanged astonished glances.
"Cut ties to Shinra?" Zangan repeated. "What did you find up there?"
What reason did he have now to protect company secrets? Especially Hojo's? "Your monster problem was manufactured. Shinra is performing experiments at the reactor."
"What?" said Lockhart. "You don't mean... Shinra made the monsters... on purpose?"
"That's exactly what I mean."
Zangan gave a low whistle. "Even I have to admit, I didn't expect that from Shinra..."
Lockhart swallowed uneasily. "But you'll take care of it?"
"...yes."
It would be for the best to put them out of their misery, wouldn't it? Even if they were like him...
"What about the mansion?" Zangan wondered. "And... him?"
Sephiroth glanced at Vincent, but before he could invent a convincing lie, Vincent spoke for himself.
"I was formerly with Shinra myself," he said. "I knew the researchers who did this, and I would like to see it put to an end. It was fortuitous that I encountered Sephiroth here."
Sephiroth nodded slowly. "Yes. Vincent has been able to shed some light on things. Now, if you'll excuse me. It... has been a trying few days."
Zangan didn't look quite convinced by the half-truths they'd offered him, but Lockhart nodded and stepped aside to let them pass. Sephiroth led the way to the inn, and upstairs to the room.
A light was on. Zack lay awake atop his bed, and he sat up as they entered. "You're back," he said.
"Cloud?" Sephiroth wondered, glancing around.
"He's been staying at his mom's the past few days," Zack explained. "Makes her feel safer."
Sephiroth nodded. "I suppose you can take his bed then," he remarked to Vincent, who made no move towards it. Sephiroth unbuckled his pauldrons, tossed them carelessly on the floor, and shrugged out of his coat. "I'm taking a shower," he announced.
"Good idea," Zack commented, and Sephiroth shot him a look before he left the room.
...it had been a few days. He'd definitely smelled better.
It felt strange, standing under the water. Going through the motions of a routine that had belonged to his life before. Not that he was about to give up bathing, but... it felt incongruously mundane, right now. Everything he knew had been turned on its head, and he was taking a shower.
What else was there but these small things, until he knew the way forward? Go through the motions, and think.
Tomorrow he would go to the reactor, deal with Hojo's little side project, and see if there was anything that Jenova could offer him. If not, what then?
How did other people know so easily what they wanted? He thought of Zack, leaving his tiny village to go to Midgar and join SOLDIER, wanting to be a hero. Zack, who decided almost instantly whether he liked someone, who sought and thrived on connection. He leapt into everything, never second-guessing himself, or at least that was how it seemed to Sephiroth.
He could let his anger guide him. Return to Midgar, visit death on Hojo and everyone else who must have been complicit. How far would he get? Would anyone be able to stop him? Sephiroth wasn't sure of his own strength, if he had ever really unleashed his full power, but if Heidegger brought the full force of the military down on him... he was still only one man. Would it be a suicide run? Would he be satisfied with that, if he took enough of them down with him?
...no.
Sephiroth wanted more than that. A future he couldn't picture.
He put on a clean pair of pants and returned to the room to begin the lengthy process of detangling his hair. Vincent passed him, headed out.
"I convinced him he could use one, too," Zack explained. "He doesn't smell that bad for twenty-five years in a basement, but sounds grody to me."
"Hm," said Sephiroth.
"You feeling better?" Zack wondered. "Maybe a little more normal?"
Sephiroth let out a soft laugh. "Normal..."
"Well, you know. Normal for you."
"I don't think there's any going back to that," said Sephiroth. He paused, and looked at Zack anew. "What does all of this mean for you anyway? Do you intend to return to Shinra?"
Zack ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, man. I guess... I can't. I mean, I don't want to work for people who pull this kind of shit. But I've got a lot of friends in the company, you know? I can't just ghost 'em."
"You would go back for them?"
"That's kinda how friendship works, isn't it?"
Sephiroth shrugged. "I wouldn't know."
Zack gave him a rueful grin. "We'll, uh, work on that."
"...tomorrow, I'm going back to the reactor," said Sephiroth, "to see Jenova. I would like you to come, but it isn't an order."
"Of course I'll come," said Zack.
The immediacy of the reply wasn't surprising, and a few days ago, Sephiroth would have dismissed it for the loyalty of a subordinate, or for Zack's penchant for adventure. Maybe those were factors, but foremost he thought Zack had agreed because of their supposed friendship.
It had always been a bit one-sided, hadn't it?
"This is the part where you say 'thank you,'" Zack suggested into the pause.
"...thank you, Zack," he said. "And remind me sometime in the future... I owe you a favor."
Zack's eyebrows rose. "Can I get that in writing?"
"You don't trust my word?"
"Well- I didn't say that, but... This's pretty wild for you."
"Lately... I don't know what I'm like," Sephiroth said, looking down at his own hands around the brush. "I may be becoming someone else."
"Is that good or bad?"
Sephiroth could only shake his head. "Who knows?"
Would he thrive, out from under Shinra's thumb? Or would he fail? Perhaps it was too late for him to follow a different path. With the way they had shaped him, he might never see it. Maybe he was abandoning the only thing he was good for to become a directionless nobody. He'd spend the rest of his days thinking in circles until he drove himself mad.
But... maybe better to be a madman than Shinra's fool.