Chapter 10
Sephiroth woke to an unfamiliar ceiling. He let himself stare at it, his body unwilling to move.
He felt... hollow. More than hollow. Like he'd been gutted. Something essential to his being had been torn out of him. He realized he was straining to hear something in the back of his mind, and finding... nothing.
Her voice was gone.
Had she become so much a part of him in only a few days? Worming her way into his mind, until he could scarcely distinguish his own thoughts. Everything she had said had made sense to him, had seemed right to him, but now...
"You're awake," someone said.
Sephiroth made his head turn. Cloud moved into his field of vision, standing from a chair he'd been sitting in nearby.
"Where is this?" Sephiroth asked.
"My house," said Cloud. "It was easier dragging you in here than up the stairs at the inn. You're... heavy."
That Cloud had bothered surprised him, after what he had done. Sephiroth closed his eyes, trying to muster the energy for a thanks that didn't sound insincere.
They snapped open again. "Vincent?"
Cloud nodded somewhere out of sight. "He's still out of it, but he seems okay." A pause. "Zack's gonna be all right, too. If you were wondering."
His tone was cold, as it should have been. Sephiroth knew what he had done. For all that Jenova had twisted his thoughts, his actions were no blessed haze now that she was gone from them. He could remember each wound he had inflicted, the feeling of the Masamune cutting into his friend's flesh, the impact of his boot against Zack's chest.
Sephiroth imagined now, how long Zack must have lain there before help arrived. How close he had come to death, and the thoughts that had nearly been his last. Reflecting on the so-called friend who had attacked him, and the innocent people he'd been unable to protect from impending murder.
"He must hate me," he murmured.
"He's not a fan right now," Cloud confirmed wryly. "Neither am I."
"Then why are you here?"
"To keep an eye on you. And for Vincent."
Sephiroth struggled to push himself up, and managed to bring a little more of the room into view. Vincent lay in another bed nearby, disheveled but breathing evenly. The chair was positioned at his bedside, not Sephiroth's.
"Where is Zack?" he wondered.
"He's at Tifa's," said Cloud. "But you're not going there."
Sephiroth lay back against the pillow. "No," he agreed, and not only because he doubted his ability even to stand at the moment. "I... have nothing I could say."
He could feel Cloud's eyes on him. "I don't get you," he said. "Before all this... I really respected you. I thought you were a hero, that you had it all together. I wanted to be like you."
It had always been laughable, Sephiroth thought, that anyone should look up to him. There was nothing to admire in a man whose only talent was death, who didn't know himself, who had nothing in his life but the work he was assigned. How thoroughly Cloud had been disillusioned now; gone was the deference with which he'd addressed Sephiroth in the past, when he had cared what Sephiroth thought of him.
"Well, I'm no hero," said Sephiroth. "Quite the opposite... it may be my nature to be a destroyer."
"You say that like it's not a choice."
Sephiroth glanced at him. "You're right," he acknowledged. "I made plenty of my own choices to become this person. It's no one to emulate."
A long pause before Cloud asked quietly, "Do I need to worry... about what you're going to choose now?"
Was the village safe from him? Would they all be better off if Cloud took advantage of his weakened state and killed him now?
Maybe so. It was because he hadn't known himself that it had been so easy for Jenova to influence him. Without the false certainty she had given him, what sort of man was he, really? He had thought himself even-tempered, before Nibelheim, but there was a deep well of rage within him that he'd been suppressing. Could he control it? Would he choose to?
"I don't intend any more harm," he said, "but I wouldn't call my intent reliable."
"...I think maybe you'd better just leave," said Cloud, "once Vincent wakes up."
"I can do that."
"You know... If my dad showed up all of a sudden, and he was anything like Vincent..."
"I know," said Sephiroth. He was a good father, wasn't he? The kind of family he'd wanted all this time. If that was all he had now, then... maybe it could serve as the anchor that he sorely needed. Maybe, it was more than enough to hold onto.
Sephiroth slept again for a time, and when he woke, his body obeyed him, albeit sluggishly. His boots found the floor, and he stood.
Cloud had gone. A break in his vigil, Sephiroth supposed. Who knew how long he'd sat awake.
In the other bed, Vincent slumbered on. His father... A father who had refused to fight against him, even when it would have been the right and moral thing to do. A father who was proud of him, against all logic.
Sephiroth didn't understand him. But... he wanted to. What Vincent offered him was more painful to accept than what Jenova had placed before him, but maybe that was because it was real. There was a depth to it that she had never really been able to imitate.
Sephiroth would let him sleep. There was something he needed to see.
Outside, a drab grey light diffused through an overcast sky. The air was the cool of early autumn, but it smelled of ash and left an unpleasant taste in his mouth.
The square was deserted, but it bore the signs of last night's battle. The wood of the water tower was splintered and blackened, and patches of the ground were dark with old blood. Several windows were broken, a lamp post dented, and the sign outside the inn had been knocked loose.
He recalled the crowd of villagers he had gathered there last night, and imagined what that pile of bodies might have looked like in the daylight. After Wutai, it wasn't hard to picture.
Turning, he walked up the street to the mansion gate. The hinges squealed faintly as he pushed it open.
In the center of the yard lay a pile of ashes and charred remains, completely unrecognizable. He had burned her nearly to nothing, and still he wasn't certain whether it had required him to drain his last reserves of magic.
Sephiroth nudged the pile with his boot, and watched as some fragment of charred flesh crumbled away. Was she really gone? Was this all that remained of her? The void inside of him said that it was, but he wondered. Maybe, with her illusions, some part of her had escaped. Maybe it was only their connection that he had destroyed here last night. Because to think otherwise...
It unsettled him. She was an ancient monster who had brought the Cetra nearly to extinction, and he, blind to his own strength, had reduced her to this, with only the help of some feral beast. What was he? What had Gast unwittingly brought into this world?
He lifted his gaze to the mansion beyond. Fire had ruined it, but hadn't destroyed it completely. The roof had collapsed, and two stories of rubble lay blackened within, but the stone foundations remained, including the walls encasing the secret stair. That damn basement probably lay untouched.
"You really hated that mansion, huh?"
Sephiroth froze at the sound of Zack's voice. He hadn't expected to see him so soon. Cautiously, he turned.
Zack stood at the gate, leaning on it almost casually. He didn't look injured, but he had changed out of his uniform and into borrowed clothes, a loose long-sleeved shirt that would have hidden any bandages. His eyes were tired, and his expression uncharacteristically reserved.
"...should you be out of bed?" Sephiroth asked him.
Zack shrugged. "I'm not doing so bad."
"I nearly killed you."
"Forgot you gave me your Restore materia, didn't you?"
"...I did," Sephiroth admitted, and the reminder was some tiny relief. He hadn't left Zack to bleed out on the floor of the reactor; he'd been able to heal himself.
Zack pushed open the gate and approached the pile of ash, stopping beside Sephiroth. "So, this is what's left of her?"
"Yes."
"Good riddance."
Sephiroth couldn't argue with that, but he wasn't sure what to say. "...Cloud told you what happened?"
"Yeah. He told me how Vincent talked you down." A pause. "I was ready to be pissed at you. But when we made it back here... Man, I thought you were dead. The mansion was on fire, and you were out cold. Kinda... took it outta me."
Sephiroth looked at him, stunned. He'd been worried? After everything, he'd been worried.
"You're well within your rights to be angry with me," he said.
But Zack said nothing. He'd always had something to say, in the past. The challenge had been getting him to shut up. Sephiroth wondered what was going through his mind now, the things he no longer wanted to share.
The Masamune lay on the ground not far from them, where Sephiroth must have fallen at the battle's end. Cloud had left it there, and now with Zack beside him, Sephiroth wanted nothing less than to take it up again.
Things would never be the same between them. Jenova had made sure of that.
...Jenova? Really?
"I want to blame her," Sephiroth went on quietly, "but I let her in. I wanted to listen. I wanted to feel special, instead of... It was the same with Shinra. I could have chosen not to fight their war, but I liked that I was good at it. I've... been weak, that way."
Zack didn't look at him, but he did speak. "You need to get your shit together," he said. "What happened to you... sucks, but you don't get to take it out on whoever's convenient."
It was true, the people who deserved it weren't here, and instead Zack had taken the brunt of his erratic behavior. Sephiroth had finally accepted his friendship only to turn on him for a minor mistake he hadn't even made. And now, he was trying to talk to him without really acknowledging it. As though Zack didn't deserve to have it acknowledged.
Sephiroth clenched his hands and forced himself to look Zack in the eye. "I'm sorry," he said. "You were trying to help me, to warn me, and I... betrayed you. Of everything I did yesterday... there is nothing I regret more. I should have trusted you."
Zack returned his gaze, one corner of his mouth twisted up in a wry sort of half-smile. "You know," he said, "it's almost flattering, to be that important to you. But, scary, too. She split us up, and just like that you were ready to kill everyone."
"You're the only good person I know. If I couldn't believe in you, I could believe in no one."
Zack shook his head, looking away. "That's a lot of pressure."
"What?"
"Look, I mess up sometimes. I say the wrong thing, I do stupid shit. Are you gonna freak out every time?"
"I don't understand," said Sephiroth. "Aren't we finished?"
"Finished?"
"I tried to kill you. If that doesn't end a friendship, I don't know what does."
"You mean you're giving up on it," Zack stated.
"I... thought that was what you would want."
Zack shook his head slowly. "I don't know, man. I thought I lost my friend back there in that reactor... but here you are again. The thing is, I don't know how long this version of you is sticking around, you know?"
"Then, allow me to make amends," said Sephiroth, hopeful. "Allow me to regain your trust."
"I don't really know what would be enough, Seph."
Sephiroth had expected to be told what to do, again. He had expected Zack to tell him how to fix this, when he was the one who had ruined it. He had to do better.
What could he possibly offer? What did Zack need?
"Do you still intend to go back to Midgar, for your friends?"
Zack blinked. "Hell... I haven't been thinking about it. I guess... Yeah. They oughtta know the truth about Shinra."
"I might be of some help," Sephiroth ventured, "if you want to persuade them to leave the company."
Zack looked at him, considering. "...I'll think about it," he decided. "You're headed back to Midgar anyway, right? Or've you changed your mind?"
Sephiroth did have reasons of his own to return. There was the information he'd asked Tseng to collect for him. An investigation to conduct, into who had allowed him on this mission knowing full well what he might find in Nibelheim. And, what he thought Zack was referring to, his vengeance on Hojo.
"No," Sephiroth said, "but I think... confronting Hojo now would be a poor choice. As you said, I haven't been in control of myself, and that's a level of rage that I don't think I could pull back from."
"I guess that's a start," said Zack. "Being able to recognize that."
"A start..." Sephiroth gave a helpless shrug. "I suppose, instead, I could search for whatever it was that Gast found, and learn what I really am... But I think I understand it well enough. I am a monster after all."
"No, you're not," said Zack, with certainty. "I don't think monsters apologize."
Sephiroth wanted, in the moment, to say something, but he found himself unable to form the words. Zack was a better friend than he deserved, and even if that friendship came to an end, he was lucky to have had it. Why couldn't he say that aloud?
Zack's stomach growled loudly into the pause.
"You haven't eaten," Sephiroth observed.
"Tifa said I could help myself to her pantry, but..." Zack scratched his head.
"She isn't here to cook for you."
"You make me sound helpless."
"In that respect, you are," Sephiroth pointed out. He turned from the mansion, and the pile of ash. "I'll do it."
Zack turned with him. "You cook?"
"I do live alone."
"This, I've gotta see," said Zack, and the ease of their banter made that hollow in Sephiroth's chest a little smaller. This hadn't been torn from him, too. Not completely, not yet.
They left the yard and crossed the square to Tifa's house, walking slowly, both of them showing their exhaustion. As Sephiroth pushed the door open, he glanced back at Zack.
"When exactly did she grant you access to her kitchen anyway?"
"Sometime while I was asleep I guess?" Zack offered. "She left this morning to track down the rest of the villagers, but Cloud told me."
"She wasn't with them?"
Zack blinked. "Oh. No, she stayed behind to help Cloud. Thought you knew."
"No... I was preoccupied." Until he'd woken to Cloud's voice, Sephiroth had thought that everyone had fled but Vincent. Cloud staying hadn't surprised him, but...
"I was halfway down the mountain when she and Cloud caught up to me," Zack went on. "Helped get my ass the rest of the way. She's shaping up to be a pretty good fighter herself, actually."
"Hm." Sephiroth stepped into the kitchen and took a moment to survey the stove, the spice rack, the hanging cookware. He did cook, but he cooked simply and out of necessity; this was the kitchen of someone who enjoyed it.
He'd never given Tifa much consideration, but there was little fault to be found in her conduct. Even after learning he wasn't human, her concern had been for his feelings. At the time, he hadn't been able to notice.
Now, it was probably for the best if she never knew he'd been in her house.
"I suppose this town may need people like her, in the future," he said.
"You don't think Shinra's going to come after them, do you?" Zack wondered.
"We can falsify our reports, but eventually Hojo's going to send someone to check on that experiment he was running. What happens then, I don't know."
"Well, I'm pretty sure Cloud's staying, so hopefully he'll keep 'em alert for any Shinra fuckery."
Sephiroth nodded. "I hope so. This village has seen enough of it."
They went on talking sporadically while Sephiroth cooked, the words inconsequential but meaning everything. Sephiroth had taken these casual exchanges for granted. Now he relished the promise of a way back, that Zack might forgive him in time. He wanted to be this person, the version of himself whom Zack called friend.
He didn't stay to eat with Zack, but took an extra plate back to Cloud's house and took up a seat at Vincent's bedside. His father's bedside.
He wondered if he ought to use the title now. Would it feel strange? Sephiroth had no doubt that Vincent would prefer it; he'd thought of Sephiroth as his son from the beginning, needing no proof at all, and to him, it truly would be a name with meaning in it. And that was why using it would represent a level of affection that Sephiroth... had never been comfortable with.
But after all Vincent had done for him, hadn't he earned that effort?
Sephiroth folded his arms, watching the slumbering man.
...he had really come out of it, hadn't he? Sephiroth had lost consciousness while the beast still reigned, so he hadn't been able to make good on his promise. Vincent's body was human now, but...
Time passed. The overcast sky opened up into a steady rain, and the dim outside made the hour seem later than it was.
At last Vincent stirred, and Sephiroth leaned forward, waiting for his eyes to open.
"Are you yourself?" he asked.
Vincent's red eyes fell on him, and he blinked slowly. "Yes," he said. "I am myself."
Relief washed over him, and Sephiroth sat back. He hadn't lost this either. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"...hungry," Vincent confessed. "But that's unimportant--"
"I made food," Sephiroth said, standing to retrieve it.
Vincent pushed himself up, and he accepted the plate, though its existence seemed to baffle him. "Thank you," he managed.
Sephiroth sat again. "I interrupted you. Go on."
Vincent looked back up at him, searching his gaze. "I wanted to know how you are. The moment Jenova died... it was like it hurt you."
"I... felt her go," Sephiroth admitted, looking away. It was a moment he hadn't wanted to dwell on. The shock of finality, an end, and not just any end but hers. He'd almost let her mean everything to him, and in that moment there'd been nothing-- "My mind is clear now. I'm all right."
"...all right," said Vincent, but he sounded skeptical.
Sephiroth didn't want him to think that it was denial. "I need more time to understand what happened to me. We'll talk, when I do. Now... I want to talk about what I do understand. Last night, what I was about to do..." He looked back at Vincent. "That would have been a monster there is no coming back from. And you stopped me."
Vincent shook his head. "I'm only glad I didn't fail you again."
"No one has ever fought for me like you did," Sephiroth insisted. "It isn't just that you're my father... you want to be my father. At first I thought it was only because of my mother--because of Lucrecia. But that isn't it, is it?"
"No. When I said you wanted family... I may have been speaking of myself, too."
Something they both wanted... A realization hit him, suddenly. "Do I have any more? I... never thought of it, but most people have grandparents, aunts, uncles..."
"I was estranged, from my family," Vincent admitted. "And Lucrecia's... I never met them. But we could look for them, if you like. I had a sister... Who knows? Perhaps you have cousins."
"Cousins..." Sephiroth shook his head, marvelling at the thought. "It sounds so... human."
"It is human. That is what you come from."
It was what he came from, but he'd made a fine mess of it. He wondered what the villagers thought of him now. How much had they processed of last night's events? He'd come commanding monsters to drag them from their homes into the street, he'd threatened their destruction, and then in the last moment he'd made a path for them to run.
Even if they'd heard every word exchanged, what could they make of it? Days and days and it was still hard enough for him to understand. They could be certain only that he'd deceived them, and that he couldn't be relied upon to defend them. It would make sense to fear him. It would make sense to reject him. And maybe it was something people had always sensed about him, instinctively.
"...I wonder if I can really be a part of them," he said.
"Even humans often feel like outsiders, Sephiroth," Vincent said gently. "It's a matter of finding the right people."
"Zack is still speaking to me," Sephiroth conceded. "So I suppose that's something."
"Then he's all right."
"Yes. Yes, he's all right."
"I'm glad."
The way he said that, again--certainly he was glad that Zack was all right for his own sake, but more so he was glad that Sephiroth hadn't lost his only friend. Somehow Sephiroth and what was best for him were always at the forefront of his mind. It wasn't new, but he'd had trouble believing it before.
A father completely unlike Hojo.
"Before we do any more searching, I want to make amends, if I can. That means returning to Midgar. Would you..." Sephiroth hesitated, turning the word over in his mind again one last time before he let himself say it. "Would you accompany me, Father?"
Vincent had at last begun to pick at his food, and he froze with the fork raised halfway to his mouth, staring. Then, for the first time, Sephiroth saw him smile--slight, but there.
"Of course, Sephiroth," he said.
It hadn't been so strange after all, Sephiroth thought, relaxing into his chair. He let Vincent eat, and allowed his mind to wander. They were connected, but there was still so much that they didn't know about each other. For his part, Sephiroth hadn't really asked; he'd only wanted to know the circumstances surrounding his creation. But now...
The mundane things he'd wondered about, walking the halls of the mansion, came back to him. About their day-to-day lives, outside of the experiment.
"Do you cook?" he wondered at length.
"A little," Vincent answered, blinking. "Nothing elaborate."
"And... Lucrecia? Did she?"
"Not often. It was always a big affair when she did. She was good at it."
Sephiroth hesitated. For a time, he'd put her out of his mind, rejected her, like Vincent, as meaning anything to him.
"Maybe," he ventured, "you could tell me about my real mother. Not about her involvement with the Project, but... What was she like? Tell me everything."
The look on Vincent's face made him think maybe he shouldn't have asked. There was a pain, a longing there, but then it settled into something different. Vincent's claw clicked against the empty plate as he set it on the nightstand beside him.
"I first met Lucrecia at Headquarters," he said quietly, "before we left for Nibelheim. She was warm, even knowing I was a Turk. She welcomed me as a member of the team. And she was... the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I must have spent half the trip here training myself not to stare."
"Was she... already married then?"
"Yes. They had been for several years. I couldn't understand it--the way he was so brusque and patronizing with her. She told me later that... he was so different from when they first met. He used to dote on her, encourage her in her studies. She always thought that he at least respected her intellect, but I think... he wanted to possess it, somehow, for himself."
"That sounds more like him," Sephiroth reflected coldly.
"She didn't want anyone to know there were problems," Vincent went on. "She would cover for him in public, convince people he had bad manners because his mind was always on his work. She made him bearable. But... the Project put a lot of pressure on her. She couldn't do the work, and keep that up. I caught her crying, once, and that was the first time we talked alone. I could say we became friends first, but... there was an attraction between us from the start. It was only because of her marriage that we didn't act on it."
"But you did."
"Eventually, yes. We used to take walks together into the countryside. One day, she tripped, and I caught her, and she..." Vincent trailed off. His distant gaze dropped into his lap. "Perhaps you'd prefer not to hear those details," he said, though Sephiroth thought it was as much for his own privacy. It was a treasured memory, and he wanted to keep it that way. "After that, we took every opportunity to be together. I thought we were in love."
"Weren't you?" Sephiroth asked, noting a difference in the way he spoke of it now, compared to only a few days ago.
Vincent shook his head. "Looking back now... Perhaps she was only using me, in her own way, to escape a bad marriage. But I was happy to be used, and I know she cared for me in some way." A pause. "She ended things shortly after she found out she was pregnant. When I learned about the experiment, I protested, but... Hojo told me it was none of my business, and she took his side."
"...she sounds selfish, my mother," said Sephiroth. Nothing Vincent had said had changed that impression.
Vincent was quiet for a moment, frowning. "I think in some ways, she had to be," he said, "or Hojo would have stifled everything she was. She had to fight for recognition of her work, even with Gast, and she had to fight for her own happiness. I don't blame her."
"Was she kind to you, at least?"
"Yes. It wasn't something I was used to, as a Turk. She would ask me about myself. My life, my thoughts... And when I had nothing to say, she would tell me about her work. I didn't understand the finer points, but she was so passionate about it, and I loved listening to the sound of her voice..."
It was obvious, listening to him speak, that Vincent had been in love. It was a love he still mourned, after her rejection, after her betrayal, after... a probable death, but not a certain one.
But would it be a good thing for Vincent to see her again, if he was able? Would it help him to come to terms with what had happened? Or might it encourage something toxic, with a woman who may have used him?
Sephiroth decided he wasn't the best judge of that. Vincent had always been honest with him. He would be honest, too.
"A few days ago," he said, "I had one of the Turks do some checking into the two of you. It may only be Hojo covering things up, but her file doesn't say that she died. It says she resigned, months after your alleged death. We could look for her."
Vincent stared at him. "She might be alive..."
"Maybe," Sephiroth reiterated. "I'm not sure how I feel about meeting her... but we can cross that bridge if and when we come to it."
"You want to do it for me," Vincent realized.
"You miss her. That's plain."
"Yes, but... if you don't want--"
"I don't need a father who never thinks of himself. I'm not a child. I ought to be able to give something back."
"All right," said Vincent.
He'd spoken sharply. Sephiroth made an effort to adjust his tone. "Besides, if she is alive, then she may have changed since then. If I am trying to be better, maybe she's tried, too."
Vincent's expression was difficult to read. He lifted his hand as if to reach for something, but simply settled it across his claw instead. "It took a great strength of will," he said, "to turn from the path you found yourself on. It's... easy to make a decision, and follow it through to its end, even if its course becomes something unwelcome. We don't like to question ourselves."
Did he speak of himself, and the decision he'd made, not to interfere with Lucrecia?
He found himself staring at Vincent's hands, and drew his gaze back to his own. He'd taken his gloves off to cook, and now, he reached out and laid a hand atop Vincent's, briefly, the gesture he thought Vincent had abandoned. However much of the blame rested with Vincent... it didn't matter now.
They were both trying, weren't they?
"I think we understand each other there," Sephiroth said. "But maybe it will be a little easier, together."
Vincent nodded. "I look forward to visiting Midgar," he said. "I'd like to see where you live, where you spend your time..."
"It won't be much of a tour. I spend most of my time at Headquarters."
"Then I'll have to see it."
Sephiroth looked Vincent over skeptically. The unkempt hair, the claw, that cape... "If you're going there, we'll need to make you less conspicuous."
Vincent nodded back at him. "You'll need a change of clothes yourself."
Sephiroth looked down at himself, noticing for the first time since waking. His pauldrons were singed and scored, and his coat torn and burned, reduced to a ragged mess at its edges, a testament to how closely Jenova's magic had followed him. It had been with him through most of the war, but now its time had at last come to an end.
Perhaps that was fitting. It was the mark of a man who had followed orders, to the glory of others, and he wanted to leave that man behind. Where he went from here would not be anyone's choice but his own.
"Yes," he agreed. "I think it's time for a change."