Archive of Our Own

Though it was relatively recent history for the planet, the Shinra Electric Power Company would prefer the Planet forgot its prior name of Shinra Manufacturing Works.

Theirs was a base of power that was built on the production of weapons. The rebranding to electricity had come later, and yet still their private army grew. As did the ambitions of the company itself. They were no government, but Shinra toppled regimes and kingdoms one by one as it spread across the land like blight. Technology, first and foremost, was needed by everyone, after all. Electricity to power it was a base necessity and so mako reactors were constructed, whether those in power objected or not.

The autocracy spread across the continents and eventually the sea. The army grew with each war, and with each war Shinra experimented more and more with the capabilities of mako and bioengineering.

Wutai was adamant that mako energy was unethical, both in humans and as a source of electricity.

Shinra wanted to expand into Wutai. Wanted to build reactors in the country to provide much needed modernisation amongst the people that resided there. That they could turn more of a profit from it was an unsaid reality.

Wutai, valuing its independence and seeing Shinra for the destructive force it actually was, refused.

Somehow though, a purchase of land was approved and Shinra sent workers to begin the construction of the first Wutaian reactor. The workers were all killed a week later by a small group of Wutai soldiers.

Two days later Shinra declared war on the entire continent of Wutai.

Lord Kisaragi declared war on the Continents.

Five years later the SOLDIER project came to its peak operating ability and two years after that Sephiroth was the General of SOLDIER stationed at a base three days travel from Fort Tamblin known as Johnson’s Camp.  They’d had been trying to push their way up to the fort for years but had only begun to make any real progress when the First Class SOLDIERs began accompanying the Seconds, Thirds and infantry in the last few months.

Bureaucracy being what it was, however, Heidegger was horrible at maintaining communication with Sephiroth and Lazard, and so units of infantry often were sent out without SOLDIER support purely because messages weren’t reaching the unit captains in time. The end result was often slaughter and the Wutaians had begun taking their weapons and using them in turn. Noticeably canons, which could do legitimate harm to SOLDIERs and unaltered infantry alike.

“What a mess,” Angeal snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at the map.

Colonel Johnson, namesake of the camp, nodded at his side. “It’s to be expected. This has happened three times now. The General is the only one actually on the front, if you don’t mind me saying Sir, he should be the sole one in charge.”

Angeal looked at the Colonel for a moment, at the unrepentant assuredness in his eyes, and nodded. It was true. Sephiroth spent more energy arguing with Heidegger’s unwise movements than he spent focusing on ways to fight smartly and it was costing them time, energy and lives. Wutai was a warrior nation, unlike all conquered before them. They weren’t falling easily and would likely not remain down easily either.

Angeal and the Colonel were inside a building that had been hastily constructed and yet was entirely serviceable by way of being very water tight and cool. There was a single light glowing weakly overhead and even though the windows were uncovered the light was abysmal. There were only three people in the large room, the rest having left at a simple request. The Colonel, his second and Angeal himself stood around the table in the centre, all with expressions of annoyance in varying strength. Angeal’s buster and secondary standard issue sword were strapped to his back, his clothes caked with mud and the faint red tinge of blood he’d tried valiantly to clean out several times over the past few days.

Even so all of their eyes glowed faintly in the slight din caused by the lack of light, inadequate voltage for lighting and overcast skies casting half of the room into shadow.

Angeal sighed, frustration lingering in his chest. What could he do but speak to Sephiroth about it? Wrestling control away from Heidegger wouldn’t be easy.

The whine of an engine working its way through the mud tack up to the camp caught his ear and he turned to look over his shoulder out the window. Johnson’s second moved to the window itself and watched a series of three transport vehicles loaded with infantry come to a halt on the other side of the camp.

They unloaded, infantry spilling out, covered in mud and soaked through to the bone. Their helmets were covered in grime and the occasional tall grass detritus, but mostly blood. One soldier slipped in the mud and gained the jeers of the other, faint laughter reaching his ears. The fallen infantrymen tackled the closest laughing man, and they wrested in the mud as others flowed around them.

A larger, leather clad figure emerged from the foremost transport and made his way down to the last, infantrymen parting as he made his way towards the fight at a sedate pace.

“The General’s back,” Johnson said wryly, amusement in his tone.

Angeal gave a short, wry snort of amusement as he watched Sephiroth reach down and fist a hand in the belt of the topmost infantryman and toss him aside, off the other, sending him flying through the air a metre away. He slid in the mud a little and, once the shock had eased, scrambled to stand and salute as the others were doing.

A few Third Class SOLDIERs standing by the command building laughed and cheered as Sephiroth remained stock still, apparently intending to glare at the instigator until he either broke regulation by apologising or wet himself.

“I should go welcome him,” Angeal said.

Johnson laughed. “Yeah it makes me uncomfortable even though I’m not on the receiving end of it too.”

Angeal shook his head and moved to the door. “I’ll inform him of the situation,” he said over his shoulder.

“Yes Sir,” the Colonel drawled as his second saluted lazily.

Unfortunatly, scenes like Sephiroth was dealing with were common, and escalated in the SOLDIER ranks. What was a tackle for the unaltered infantry was a bone crushing punch from a SOLDIER, who more often than not was still running off adrenalin from their last mission. Discipline was difficult when every man was precious, needed in the push foward to Fort Tamblin, and so Sephiroth had taken to unusual methods of punishment and something like scare tactics.

Whatever he did when he glared with his slightly narrowed cat-slit eyes was enough to terrify most into shape, if Angeal’s disappointment or Genesis’ distain didn’t.

“Welcome back,” Angeal called, struggling his way through the mud over to Sephiroth.

It broke the standoff and Sephiroth pointed warningly at the two infantrymen, point made, before turning his attention to Angeal. “Dismissed,” he said, with a wave of his hand. The infantrymen and the still-saluting crowd broke up quickly, scattering to the wind.

Sephiroth was just as drenched and muddied as the infantrymen he had accompanied, Angeal noted. He’d tied his long hair into a braid and yet strands still stuck to his temples and neck, clung to his leather coat. There was blood too. Releasing a long sigh as Angeal neared, the general turned his attention on him and gave the briefest of smiles, weariness seeming to weigh him down suddenly. He turned and began to walk, falling into step with Angeal naturally.

“I’m glad to see you’ve managed to return unhurt,” Sephiroth said, passing his eyes over his friend briefly.

“We managed,” Angeal replied. He hid the pain of loss as so many others did. If he spent time mourning for every life, he would never get up off his knees. The weight of the buster sword was a reminder of that.  “How did you go?”

Sephiroth looked over at him, unconvinced even so. “Xu was captured. It’s a matter of holding it now. I left several of the Seconds there to hold the town until reinforcements arrived. I see they passed us on the way out. There’s a bridge on the other side of Xu that needs to be protected at all costs; it’s the only one within miles capable of holding a sizable caravan,” Sephiroth said, turning his head forward again, continuing his way to his tent, walking slowly by necessity due to the mud. “Alexanders overexerted himself slightly but I was reassured he can handle the brief wait. No other injuries on our side.”

Angeal nodded. There often weren't deaths under Sephiroth’s watch, unless it was a SOLDIER’s own stupidity. Sephiroth travelled only with SOLDIERs in hot zones, rarely worked with the unaltered infantry unless they were further back from the front. This time he’d gone with six SOLDIERs and twenty infantry, which they hoped would become the norm however. Though he’d informed Colonel Johnson he would relay the growing frustration over of the issue of communication he knew he didn’t need to.

Sephiroth was aware and could do little.

“We’re being pulled back to Junon, Seph,” Angeal said gently instead. There was no need to dance around the subject, not when Sephiroth was so obviously tired, emotionally and physically, just as was Angeal. The past several months of sleepless nights and sporadic fighting, the constant bracing for ninja or Crescent ambushes and heavy artillery fire wore on even them.

Angeal has also lost two boys under his watch several hours before. He would wait until Sephiroth had slept some before he informed him of it, if he didn’t see the honour guard outside of the shipping crate holding their bodies first. While Angeal knew Sephiroth was skilled at hiding emotions, they were there, flickering beneath the surface. The death of his soldiers, infantry or SOLDIER affected him deeply. That they had been SOLDIERs would only affect him even more deeply.

So best to wait. They would be travelling home with the coffins anyway.

Still Sephiroth’s eyes flashed and he paused just outside of his tent, one hand on Masamune and the other leather-clad hand poised to push the large tent-flap open. “Junon?” He lowered his head a moment and then dropped his hand from the tent, sighed almost explosively. “I had suspected as much. It’s been too long since Director Lazard has been able to visit us,” he said, eyes narrowing. “A strongly worded protest over the current chain of command is due.”

Angeal crossed his arms over his chest and his brow furrowed. “You expected it?”

Sephiroth raised his head and glanced at Angeal. He pushed into his tent with a murmured, “come in,” and set Masamune on the brace hanging from one of the skeletal poles of the tent on the right wall. Angeal ducked inside, letting the tent flap fall closed behind him. It didn’t cut out the sound of the camp’s life; the quiet laughter and frustrated yelling of the mechanics as they dealt with the mud and rain, but it gave them some privacy.

“It’s been three months since I’ve seen Hojo,” Sephiroh drawled, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he has been breathing down Lazard and Heidigger’s necks to get me back. That we’re being pulled back to Junon instead of Midgar is surprising.” He unhooked his pauldrons and guided them to the muddied wooden floor by his cot, then unbuckled and peeled his coat from his shoulders, let it fall over the chair by his cot. The tent wasn't large but it was big enough for several trunks, a decent cot and a bench with a pitcher and basin where Sephiroth could wash. Angeal watched as he pulled the straps of his waist guard over his head and let the guard fall to the floor before stepping out of it, pulling his leather gloves off as he did. He bent to poor water into the pitcher, muscles playing in his back as he did, braid sliding over one shoulder.

Angeal watched, fingers twitching a little. The leather of his own gloves creaked as he curled his fingers in.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. Heidegger and Lazard will be running operations. I don’t know about you but Genesis and I have two week leave coming up soon,” Angeal said, watching Sephiroth wash his face and chest of blood.

Sephiroth turned and looked back at him after drying his face and chest, cat-slit eyes surveying him. The tent flap was still half open, caught on the tip of Angeal’s enormous Buster sword, giving him the effect of being back-lit, eyes brighter for it.

Sephiroth wasn’t sure what to make of the look of calm patience on Angeal’s face, that much was obvious. “Lazard takes most of his directions from me and Heidegger’s an idiot,” he said flatly.

Angeal laughed. When he looked up again he was smiling and Sephiroth was still blank-faced, tired and irritated. “I know,” he said, waving a hand. “But we all need a rest. You’re tired Seph. I know you haven’t slept in a week.”

Sephiroth gave a low non-committal sound, then tossed his towel aside and began working his hair from his braid. “I can handle a few more days. We’re only winning the war because of us, Angeal. Not the directors. These people,” Sephiroth said, gesturing with a flick of a hand outside the tent, “they’re getting desperate. They’re starting to kill themselves before we can get information out of them and are hiding amongst the civilians, taking our weapons and sending ninjas left right and centre. It’s starting to look like we’ll have to abandon the ROE’s entirely if we want to keep ahead. Turk intelligence isn’t enough.”

Angeal frowned, eyebrows pulling down. “We can’t do that Seph. Innocent people will die. We’re trying to help these people, bring them better lives and peace besides; not subjugate them.”

“Then this war will drag on for another seven years,” Sephiroth declared, eyes flashing as he finished unwinding his braid. He stood before Angeal, arms by his sides, hair wavy with the weight of the water and eyes bright with anger. “It’s already more difficult than it should be with several departments trying to run this war.”

Angeal took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “So let it,” he said and shook his head, dark hair swaying as he did. Pain rode heavy in his tone. “War is already bad enough. If we start killing women and children, attacking civilians…”

“At more loss to us.” Sephiroth watched him closely.

Angeal stared at Sephiroth, something in him aching, the weight of his sword on his back so very present. “Please don’t,” he said softly.

There was a long stretch of silence, broken by the sound of another fight breaking out somewhere on the camp and Colonel Johnson’s screams for it halt cutting through the air. It was the sound of them losing the war to Sephiroth, Angeal thought.

His eyes dropped and he refused to wince.

“Alright,” Sephiroth said at length, watching Angeal. “Unless the President orders it, no breaches in ROE.”

Angeal looked up at him and gave a wry smile. “That’s all I can ask.”

They parted, Sephiroth claiming sleep and Angeal claiming the same. Even so he performed a brief circuit around the camp and found nothing out of the ordinary. With Sephiroth down for the night, or afternoon as it were, Angeal was the next in charge though they were all aware of his and Sephiroth’s impending departure. The base would fall to Colonel Johnson’s command until their leave was over.

He spent the night guarding the two bodies of the dead SOLDIERs, the buster sword held in hand, hovering about the mud.

The next day when Sephiroth found Angeal and the two Thirds guarding the crate he stood stock still for several minutes, silver hair still free of its braid catching the wind. Even so far away Angeal could see the look in Sephiroth’s eyes. The frustration with Angeal’s honour code, the lack of understanding, the weight of the possibility of losing the war. Sephiroth saluted sharply and then turned to walk towards the command office, black leather coat flaring in the wind, infantry darting around him like he was a shark and they the fish.

Angeal swallowed thickly and dropped his eyes to the mud.

They left Johnson’s Camp via helicopter later that afternoon, caskets of the dead SOLDIERs riding with them, along with several Thirds who had been their platoon-mates. Sephiroth remained clinging to the outside of the helicopter, Masamune in hand, while another soldier manned the machine gun mounted on the side.

That they were fired at on their way out of Johnson’s camp was disturbing, and Angeal clenched his jaw. There was a break in the line somewhere, and that likely meant more of their boys were down.

They flew back to Alpha Base on the shore of Wutai, intending to board a cargo plane headed for Junon. Alpha Base had been the site of the original intended reactor, which had long since been built, reaching up to the sky with the camp built around it, a town almost. The land had blighted itself over the years, desert spreading outwards, making for large, flat airstrips and several buildings. For Wutai it was about as civilised as the Continentals could get. For one it had decent electricity and apt technology.

Secondly it was on the edge of a cliff, and if there were ever an incentive to not be pushed back out of Wutai, it was the steep edge of the mountainous shoreline.

It wasn’t long before boarding that Genesis caught up with them. He appeared on the airstrip, a flash of red and black weaving between the crates of cargo and POWs, still caked in mud from waist down, but impeccable from waist up. “Sorry, I kept you waiting,” he greeted, a smile on his face if not in his eyes. Tone teasing.

Angeal was glad to see him. “You made it,” he said, laughing a little and clasping Genesis’ hand in greeting. After a moment he pulled him into a hug, breathed in the scent of battle still fresh on Genesis’ skin.

His friend pulled back, smiling at Angeal with warm eyes, before turning his attention to Sephiroth.

The General gave a nod, and through the fall of his hair Angeal could see the light smile. For all their animosity, meetings like this were usually placid, which soothed Angeal. “Late as usual,” Sephiroth said even so, and Angeal winced.

“Ah,” Genesis said, sweeping his hair back with a gloved hand. “You know how it is. No rest for the wicked.”

Sephiroth’s laugh was quiet and nothing more than closed-mouthed chuckle, but it as well as his relaxed posture, was enough to tell Angeal that it was not in the least mocking. The fact seemed too reach Genesis as well. Thankfully.

He hummed and took place by Angeal’s side, Sephiroth on the other. They stood and watched the process of the cargo being loaded, until at last the two caskets of the SOLDIER’s came, flanked by their honour guard, and the sound of trumpets and a general pause of activity stretched over the entire airfield.

“There will be a service in Junon before they’re shipped back to their families,” Angeal said, after the procession had passed, and movement began again. There were more to load still, but they had the time between to talk.

“Where were they from?” Sephiroth asked, looking over at Angeal.

“Third Class Baine was from Kalm. His wife and daughter will meet us in Junon,” Angeal said, feeling Sephiroth's eyes on him. There was no disapproval there, but he felt it. Maybe it originated in himself but Angeal felt the disapproval at the loss of two of their SOLDIERs regardless. “Third Class Abner was from Midgar. His partner is in Junon as well.”

Genesis sighed heavily, sedate and tired. Weary. “You couldn’t have done any more than you did.” He place a hand on Angeal’s shoulder guard almost casually.

“Maybe,” Angeal said, swallowing thickly. “If I could have held out a little longer, been a little stronger.”

Genesis snorted and cast a quick glance at Sephiroth. “No mean feat.”

“I nearly lost three,” Sephiroth said, voice low and quiet. Flat. Green eyes remained fixed on the plane, but seemed to see through it. “I didn’t. Pure dumb luck. Eventually it will run out.”

Angeal took a deep breath, felt Genesis’ pleasure at Sephiroth’s admission radiating from his side. His hand slipped from Angeal’s shoulder after a moment however as his pleasure waned and realisation dawned.

If Sephiroth was beginning to struggle, then what did it mean for them.

Genesis likely saw it as his time to shine but Angeal? Angeal worried.

“I’m overdue for my physical,” Sephiroth said.

Angeal grunted.

Genesis crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his head, rubbing at his side where’d he’d been injured not days before.

“How do we win this war?” Sephiroth posed. He turned his eyes to the left, watched the other fifteen infantry caskets approach the cargo hold of the plane. “How do we make the directors understand? How do we keep our men’s morale and fight a warrior nation able to hold out against us?”

Angeal shook his head.

Genesis raised his own and smiled, looking skyward. “We become heroes.”

Sephiroth looked over at him and grunted.

Angeal spent the three weeks he was stationed in Junon training with the other SOLDIERs on soft-leave and liaising with Heidegger and Scarlet. There were more meetings than he would care to repeat, but the debriefings struggle to make a streamlined chain of command and after certain point Sephiroth simply stopped showing up, likely out of sheer frustration.

Their schedules were utterly full and yet even so Angeal and Genesis managed to meet every couple of nights. They couldn’t drink but they spent time in each other’s company, sequestered in their quarters.

More often than not Genesis read and penned poetry while Angeal cleaned his sword, both of them remaining on the bed. The acts were meditative as much as they were bonding. Companionable silence and familiar touch calming.

After two weeks though, Genesis sent him a text on his PHS while Angeal was between meetings, eating lunch with several Firsts in the cafeteria.

Where is S?

A week later neither of them had seen Sephiroth. Angeal asked around the base, knowing Genesis’ pride wouldn’t allow for it outright. Their rivalry occasionally gave Angeal a headache and this was one of those times.

“The General was pulled back to Midgar two weeks ago,” Lazard told him over the phone when he called, giving up at the run around the Junon base was giving him. “You’re due back in a four days, I was actually about to send you your new schedule.”

“Is Hollander asking for us?”

“Yes,” Lazard said, and Angeal could hear him push his glasses back up his nose.

“Is Sephiroth with Professor Hojo?”

“I’ve been preoccupying Sephiroth’s time lately and I haven’t been able to make my way over to Wutai while he’s been on the front lines. I haven’t seen him in three days however. Hojo has been sending me steadily more aggressive memos since March,” Lazard drawled. “I haven’t the clearance to go up to his labs though. If Sephiroth’s there, I suspect you would have better luck at checking on his status than I. He has leave due in two weeks after your return, as with you and Rhapsodos.”

Director Lazard wasn’t shy of the front lines, and Angeal respected him for that, but the man was a bureaucrat and not a soldier. Even so Johnson’s Camp was too far forward on the front line and far too dangerous for the man to even be allowed to visit.

Alpha Base would have been better but they hadn’t been there for more than a few hours in several months by Sephiroth’s own hand. Angeal supposed Lazard calling Sephiroth back early had been inevitable when they were struggling to hold the front, trying to make their way to the bridge at Xu and now the battle began to hold it and several other key positions.

“Alright,” Angeal said, sighing. “Thank you, Director. I look forward to seeing you soon.”

“As do I, SOLDIER. Make it home safely.”

Angeal spent the rest of the day sparring with the Thirds stationed at Junon, training them best he could for their deployment several days after he himself returned to Midgar. When he made it back to his quarters he pulled out his PHS and texted Genesis.

S is in Midgar. We go in a few days.

Angeal set his buster sword in its holder against the wall carefully and stripped intending a shower. When he got out again, there was a reply from Genesis waiting.

How long has he been there? No replies for 2 weeks now.

With Lazard for them. Hasn’t been seen in three days, he replied.

On reaching Midgar, Genesis and Angeal were pulled almost immediately by Hollander into his labs. They were given a full physical and several injections.

Hollander spent a while longer on Genesis however, since he’d caught the blast of a mortar round in his side twice the week of their leaving Wutai and the shrapnel had lodged in most of his bones. Genesis had confessed it was making him feel lethargic and occasionally mentioned it was annoying, but otherwise operated fine. Hollander was somewhat horrified and bumbled about, ordering Genesis to strip.

“We’ll have to get it all out. It can’t remain in.”

Genesis stared at the shorter man. “That will take too long. I have prior arrangements.”

“Nonsense.” Hollander waved a hand. “I’ll sedate you and pull it all out. I can’t let you leave operating as anything other than top condition. Who knows when you’ll be back? You’ll be on your way by the end of the week.”

Genesis turned and looked at Angeal. He shot him a meaningful look as he pulled his coat off, one full of annoyance at not being able to check on Sephiroth as well, or provide Angeal back up if they were going into Hojo’s labs as they fully intended.

Angeal nodded. “If that’s the case I’ll go then.” He pulled his shirt back on.

“Yes, yes,” Hollander said, waving a tech over to fetch the materials for the surgery, oblivious to Genesis’ glare.

Angeal slipped out of Hollander’s labs, feeling odd without the weight of the buster sword on his back, though Hollander never allowed it on the 67^th floor. There were guards at almost every door here, but Angeal was well known amongst those that rotated through. They saluted to him as he passed and he nodded in turn, making his way across the floor to Hojo’s labs.

He paused just outside of the white doors, hand in his pocket thumbing his access card. He wasn’t entirely sure it would work, but then he was unsure if even Sephiroth’s would work here. General though he was, the science division was an entirely different department and Sephiroth had been here since birth.

“Forget your card, sir?” the guard said from down the hall, face covered by a helmet. Only the lower half of his face was visible but his smile was kindly even so.

Angeal felt a burst of guilt. He smiled even so. “Unfortunately. I don’t suppose…?” He gestured at the door.

“It’s no problem, sir,” the guard said, swiping his card. The door slid open with a pneumatic swish.

Angeal stared inside a moment before turning and smiling at the guard. “Thank you, soldier.”

The guard’s lips twisted into a contented smile. “The pleasure is mine.”

Angeal stepped inside and paused as the door closed behind him. His skin pricked almost immediately, as it did as when he was in enemy territory. There was strange sense of calm that came only with being in battle with Sephiroth too. It was a SOLDIER-wide phenomenon, something Hollander had let slip wasn’t present in the unaltered Peacekeeping Infantry. Genesis had hardly been pleased with the information, though he’d admitted he felt it too.

So it was strange to feel it here in Hojo’s labs. Admittedly he was very not supposed to be here, but his concern for Sephiroth overreached that as had Genesis’ up until he’d been detained.

He wandered further in, down a corridor, glancing about. It was as sterile as sterile could get, and not white so much as grey and bland. He paused when he came into an open lab, with rows of benches. There were several lab techs milling about, either on computers or standing in front of a series of mako containment units, doing whatever it was they did.  The closest tech was a mousy woman with long fingers and a kind, confused smile.

He returned it. “Is Professor Hojo here?” he asked, first and foremost.

“Oh no,” the tech said, coming over to him. “He’s on his lunch break. Just went, actually. I think he had a meeting directly after. Is it anything I can help with?”

Angeal relaxed, tension he hadn’t been aware of in his shoulders leaving him immediately. No Hojo. Good. “I’m looking for Sephiroth, actually.”

The tech’s expression dropped a little. “Oh.” She paused, ran a hand through her hair and looked over at the other techs, not that they were paying her any attention. After a moment she stepped a little closer to Angeal and spoke softly. “Sephiroth is here. He’s been in stasis for the past week,” she said. She wore a white lab coat with wide pockets, which she tucked her hands into as she spoke.

“Stasis?” Angeal asked, surprised. “Why?”

The tech watched him a moment and then asked, “You’re one of Hollander’s, I presume?”

Angeal nodded. “Yes,” he said, wondering if he’d blown it, if he wasn’t about to see Sephiroth at all and be sent away with little more information than the confirmation that Sephiroth was here.

She didn’t seem about to kick him out though, and instead started walking, nodding with her head for him to follow along. They slipped away from the rest of the techs, down a corridor lined with overhead lights as she spoke, “Normally we’re not meant to allow people in here, but you’re hardly ‘people’.” She gestured. “I doubt you would take any of Professor Hojo’s data and run to Dr Hollander, and besides, the professor is on his lunch break,” she said, grinning.

“I really do appreciate it,” Angeal said, keeping his tone level. The professor gave most people the creeps but Angeal had always done his level best to ignore it. The man was a scientist, a winning personality wasn’t required, same as with this tech. The same could be said for SOLDIERs and, though it hurt a little to admit it, Sephiroth, who was about as blank of a person as Angeal had ever met.

He had, at least, warmed up in recent years.

“I’ve been with Sephiroth for years,” she said, amused. “I noticed the change in him after he met you and Hollander’s other SOLDIER. Consider it the return of a favour.”

She lead him through into another room, flashing an access card over the console attached to the wall by the door. It flashed green and the doors opened, sinking into the wall with a hiss. The lab inside was full of tubing and tanks, the floor looking like the root work of an overgrown jungle. She lead him up onto a platform that kept them above the mess of tubes and cables, then over to the largest of the tanks. This one made of clear, thick glass, unlike the other pure steel contraptions, many of them egg shaped and with windows on the doors. Only some were in use.

Sephiroth was inside the largest clear glass tank. Naked and unanchored, hair floated about him, moving with the current of the mako. He was also staring straight ahead, pupils blown wide.

Angeal couldn’t speak for a long moment, staring at Sephiroth in something approaching abject horror. “Why?” he asked, looking over at the tech, noting the way she stood with her hands in her pockets still, watching Sephiroth with a small smile, admiring the beauty of him as he stared past her, uncomprehending.

She looked over at Angeal at the question though, and her eyebrows rose. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said, raising a hand quickly and waving. “It’s not raw mako. It’s heavily diluted. Raw mako would eat away at Sephiroth just as much as any other,” she said, tone taking on the sort that reminded him of a school teacher. 

“That’s not really what’s bothering me,” he said, gesturing to Sephiroth and his blank, thousand-yard stare.

The tech shifted a little. “This hedges into secrets I’m not to divulge to Hollander,” she said slowly, quietly, seeing his unease. “But the mako bath is keeping him stable. Professor Hojo worked on him extensively and his adjustment period tends to be painful. High concentrations of Mako is about all that keeps him calm, as well as strengthens him during the process,” she said, almost awed, looking over at Sephiroth again.

Angeal looked over at him, eyes wide. All SOLDIERs had the ability to absorb mako, it was how SOLDIER’s were made after all, but to do so greatly, in a bath, was horrifying as much as it was awe inspiring.

And likely painful, yes. 

Angeal stared, feeling for his friend. “It’s always like this?”

“Since birth, yes,” the tech said.

Angeal’s breath left him in a rush.

Then he startled as Sephiroth blinked. The steady rise and fall of his chest hitched, head jerking back, hair swaying with him and covering his face briefly as he stilled. Angeal took a step forward, a hand rising, and Sephiroth moved again.

He halted, frozen by the glare Sephiroth directed at him, pupils thin and eyes narrow, eyebrows pulled down. His hair floated past his face slowly, like smoke from an incense stick.

The tech stood to the side silently, watching them both intently, eyes calculating.

“Seph?” Angeal breathed, placing his gloved hand on the tank wall.

Sephiroth’s glare lessened slowly and his eyes snapped down to Angeal’s hand. He shifted sluggishly, pressed a finger to the glass separating them, on the other side of Angeal’s palm. His expression changed entirely, became something he’d never seen on Sephiroth face before, but one he’d seen on his own mother’s face many times at first glance when he returned home to visit.

Love, affection.

Joy at reuniting the family. 

It was surely in his mind, but Angeal could almost feel the press of Sephiroth’s finger against his palm through the glass. Gaia, he wanted him out of there. Wanted to reach through the glass and pull Sephiroth out.

“His lucidity should return in a week or so. He’s still somewhat out of it,” the tech said, startling Angeal. He looked over at her briefly, at her mask of kindness.  By the time he looked back to Sephiroth though he had gone blank again, and his hand slipped away from the inside of the tank. He floated back, eyes closed, and stilled eventually before his eyes opened again, staring into the abyss once more.

“When will he get out?” Angeal asked, struggling to control his voice and dropping his hand from the tank.

“A day or two,” the tech said.

Angeal nodded.

“You should go, Professor Hojo might return to collect notes before his meeting.”

Angeal forced himself to leave, clenching his fists.

Found S, Angeal sent later that night, knowing Genesis would still be in Hollander’s labs, recovered but under observation and bored out of his mind. Angeal’s hands were shaking as he typed.

Where?

Hojo.

There was a long pause.

How bad?

Not sure. He gets out in two days.

Hollander is keeping me an extra day.  Angeal could practically hear the disdain. A second text came almost immediately after. Meetings after that. Let me know.

Thank Shiva they were First Class and could deny missions and meetings when needed. Sephiroth made regular practice of it, redistributing poorly assigned missions on to others better suited. Genesis tended not to out of pure boredom and something like an overactive work ethic, truly enjoying what he did, no matter what it was.

Genesis may have had a rivalry with Sephiroth based in jealousy that seemed to only be getting worse, but it was based in comradery. There were no three like them. Not to the degree of alterations they had, and, apparently, there were none like Sephiroth, who suffered immeasurably so that he could be the best.

If Genesis knew the depths of it, he wondered how his attitudes would change, if things would smooth over between them before they came to a head. Angeal didn’t think Sephiroth had noticed, not willingly, or if he had he’d simply ignored it thus far.

Angeal went to bed early that night and didn’t manage to sleep until three hours to dawn.

Waiting the two days for Genesis to emerge from Hollander’s lab and disengage with his meetings about his Wutai operations was difficult enough, but waiting for Sephiroth to appear was just as difficult. Eventually Angeal left his own small office and took the elevator up to the 67^th floor once three days had passed with no contact.

The guards were on rotation and so Angeal managed to slip inside Hojo’s lab without issue as one came out. None of the lab techs were present, however, nor was Sephiroth in the tank he had been in when Angeal looked through the viewing window. He gave a sigh of relief.

But then came the issue of finding Sephiroth himself.

He made a circuit of the entire 67^th floor, even going so far as to check in Hollander’s own labs, before he went down to the 66^th. There his card worked everywhere, he knew, considering it was mostly specimens and the medical wing Genesis would have spent the night under observation after his surgery to remove the mortar shrapnel. There was Deepground, but that was the med bay for regular First Classes, and not any under Hollander or Hojo.

There in one of the observation bays, strapped to a gurney with thick padded restraints, SOLDIER resistant, was Sephiroth. His eyes were closed but he was breathing steadily, awake if the pace of his breathing was to be believed.  Angeal pressed his access card to the reader and watched the door open. Sephiroth eyes snapped open a moment later and settled on him, the green piercing.

“Angeal,” he said, voice thick and raspy. He sighed, fisted hands loosening.

Again came the sensation of being in battle with Sephiroth, the calm.

Angeal went to his side, looked at him closely. “Hey Seph,” he said, laying a hand over Sephiroth’s shoulder.

His hair was tangled but dry, obviously hadn’t been brushed since he’d been removed from the tank, and since he’d more than likely been struggling on the gurney. Sephiroth smiled a little, as much as he ever did. Never with teeth but then nor was Angeal one prone to grins. “How long has it been?” Sephiroth asked, looking up at him.

“About two weeks since you disappeared. Three since you left Junon,” Angeal said, frowning. “You didn’t tell us.”

“Wasn’t time,” Sephiroth said, frowning. He twisted his hands in his restraints. “Get me out of this.”

Unquestioningly, Angeal turned and worked on the straps. “Our leave starts tomorrow,” he said lightly, slipping the Kevlar bands doubled over from their slots and releasing one of Sephiroth’s hands, then moving on to his feet. There was a fifth section over Sephiroth waist, beneath his scrub shirt, which he decided to leave until last.

“Good,” Sephiroth said, sighed and closing his eyes.

Angeal worked in silence for a long while, watching as Seph used his now free hand to rub at his face and pinch his eyes, like he had a headache. “Seph,” he said eventually. “Why were you strapped down?”

Sephiroth was silent, though he did lower his hand and open his eyes, watching him.

Angeal paused. “Sephiroth?” he asked, watching him.

Sephiroth frowned. “Seizures,” he said. “I get them sometimes if I’m taken from the tank too early. Apparently I try to get back in it.”

Angeal’s eyebrows rose. Tried to get back into the tank? It had to have been painful, and he wanted to crawl back into it? No wonder they strapped him down.

He continued working on the webbing over Sephiroth’s stomach and pulled it aside when he was done. “Do you remember seeing me?” he asked, since Sephiroth had never mentioned a tank before. Hollander had them, but the mako in them had never been the vibrant green it had been for Sephiroth, more a light blue edging on green, and he and Genesis had never been fully submerged, even when seriously injured.

Sephiroth pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the gurney, rose and wobbled a little. Angeal was there immediately, helping stand. He smelt faintly acrid, like mako and the chemicals of the decontamination shower they would have given him after he’d been pulled out. His hair was even worse now he was up too.

“Things get confusing when I’m in the tanks,” Sephiroth admitted, grunting and nodding in thanks for Angeal’s assistance in standing. He wrapped an arm over his shoulder and together they walked out of the lab, down to the locker area where Sephiroth’s clothes would be. “Were you in Hojo’s lab?” he asked, shooting him an amused look.

Angeal’s guilt returned but he nodded. “I was. You hadn’t contacted us. We were worried.”

Sephiroth didn’t need to ask who ‘us’ was, he knew it was Genesis. A smile spread over his lips. “Apologies,” he said, voice quiet and rough still.

Angeal chuckled. “It was worth it. I wouldn’t want you getting home on your own like this.”

Sephiroth grunted again, smile dropping slowly.

They made it to the locker room, considerably fancier than one would assume given the name. Sephiroth had his own storeroom, accessible by a number which Sephiroth recited for Angeal. Inside was what could only be the store of all of his clothes for the past twenty-two years. Sephiroth’s Third, and Second SOLDIER uniforms were there, worn but clean, multiples stacked on the shelves, along with several swords, and two standard issue MK47s.

Angeal took Sephiroth latest uniform, black leather and silver, and lowered his eyes, not prying into the multitude of scrubs and other items on the shelves there. Along with books and other private possessions there were children’s books which speared Angeal through the heart at the sight. If there was more he didn’t want to know.

He moved back out to Sephiroth and helped him change, keeping his face mostly blank.

“Your hair is a bit of a mess,” Angeal teased, pulling a handful over Sephiroth’s shoulder once he was dressed and he was working his gloves on.

“It’ll survive the trip,” Sephiroth said. “I doubt it’s worse than the winds in Wutai can make it,” he added dryly.

Angeal chuckled and helped Sephiroth rise again once he was ready. The guards saluted as they passed, saying nothing. Sephiroth did his best to walk under his own power once they were out of the labs and in the elevator, though he leaned against the railing once they were inside, looking paler than usual.

The trip down to the 45^th floor was quick, however, and the elevator SOLDIER use only. A blessing.

There were no guards on the 45^th floor, being that it was populated entirely by executives and higher ups who chose to live within the tower, or as with Sephiroth had no other option. Angeal and Genesis still lived within the Sector 0 base, but not in the tower. Rather one of the smaller buildings, barracks that housed most of the other First Classes. Being what they were and considered living company secrets, they would never live outside of Shinra unless they retired, and very few SOLDIERs had ever managed.

Sephiroth’s apartment, accessible by a long hallway and a card Sephiroth flashed by his door, was larger than expected. Masamune was the first visible decoration, held in a brace on the wall by the door, its sheath beneath it. The rest of Sephiroth’s apartment was varying shades of a homely brown, and his couch, large enough for at least seven people, was curved and faced away from wide windows that lead out onto a balcony. Sheer curtains blocked most of the sunlight out.

Angeal supposed Sephiroth had made it so homely, and filled it with so many useless and ultimately kitschy junk as a response to the bare life of military and science functionality. There was even an antique sewing machine that Sephiroth had stuffed in a corner simply to fill the space, though Angeal knew for a fact it didn’t work and Sephiroth never even bothered to consider why he wanted it, just that he could. 

Sephiroth sighed in relief as the door closed behind them.

“Home sweet home,” Angeal said dryly.

Sephiroth chuckled. “I think I’m just going to sleep, Angeal, thank you,” he said, starting to pull his arm from Angeal’s shoulder.

He tightened his arm around Sephiroth’s waist, held him still and shook his head. “I think I’ll stay the night. Let me help you, Seph,” he said, looking at him, determined.

Sephiroth stilled and returned the look, lips downturned and eyes tired, hand trembling faintly. Eventually he turned his face away. “Alright,” he said softly.

Angeal helped him into his room. Sephiroth’s bed took up the majority of it, a large window over the headboard of it, the covers a soft grey and sheets white. It smelled like Sephiroth, though the whole apartment was stale and lifeless after years of Sephiroth only being home for one or two weeks at a time. Much like Angeal’s own, though he shared his apartment with Genesis now.

He helped Sephiroth undress, pulling his boots off while Sephiroth removed his gloves and pauldrons, unbuckled his coat with trembling fingers. Angeal watched, not willing to interfere, though Sephiroth kept trying until he managed the catch finally. His belt buckles were another matter, and Angeal helped him with those, pushing his hands aside as gently and unobstrusivly as he could.

Sephiroth looked leaned back without a sound, raised his hips as Angeal pulled his pants down and off in one smooth movement.

When Sephiroth was left sitting naked at the end of the bed, Angeal straightened, tried to keep his eyes in more appropriate places. Sephiroth bent over and rested an elbow on one of his knees, rubbing at his face. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“You and Genesis would do the same for me,” Angeal said, making Sephiroth still.

Angeal smiled and laid a hand on Sephiroth’s shoulder briefly. “I’ll be on the couch if anything happens.”

Sephiroth relaxed. “There’s a SOLDIER standard sword in the cupboard by the door,” he said, and lifted his head staring at Angeal’s kind and patient expression, the light smile on his lips. He didn’t often understand the expressions Angeal wore, but his eyes usually softened in turn when Angeal looked at him so.

It was unspoken between them, but the war had made them relentlessly paranoid, and Sephiroth, ill, wouldn’t be able to defend himself to his utmost abilities. With Angeal, though, there was safety. One reason for Angeal’s demand to remain.

One of many.

Angeal nodded and turned, left Sephiroth staring after him thoughtfully as he went out into the lounge room to retrieve the sword.

S retrieved, Angeal sent once he’d removed his vest and pauldrons, his boots and gloves. He sat on Sephiroth’s ugly brown couch, sword placed on the coffee table before him.

He ok? Genesis sent after a few minutes, sending his PHS buzzing from its place on a stack of magazine Angeal didn’t think Sephiroth had ever read, given that one of them was aimed at women and typical gossip mongering amongst the SOLDIER fanclubs.

Shaky. See in morning. Sleeping. I’ll stay.

I need a day. I’ll come day after tomorrow. Call if S isn’t well.

Alright.

Angeal made himself comfortable, spread out on the couch, head facing Sephiroth’s front door, poised ready to defend against an attack.

He slept though, tired after several weeks of near constant concern.

Angeal woke to the sound of Sephiroth shifting in his bed. He had, apparently, not moved all night if that was the first sound to wake Angeal. Especially when he was on high alert. He stared at Sephiroth’s lounge room ceiling, blinking the sleep from his eyes and listening to Sephiroth rise and shower.

He was nearly asleep again by the time he heard Sephiroth emerge and start messing around in his kitchen. “Do you want breakfast?” Sephiroth asked, apparently aware Angeal was awake as well, though how Angeal wasn’t sure. His voice was quiet with distance, but Angeal heard him clearly over the hiss of his frying pan as he made what sounded like omelettes by the amount of eggs he was cracking.

Angeal rose, not bothering to put his shirt back on as he did. “Sure,” he said, padding down from Sephiroth’s lounge room to his open plan kitchen.

He was shirtless, but he’d brushed his hair and it was already dry, so Angeal assumed he’d spent a long time brushing his teeth and trimming his nails; small comforts absent in Wutai. Time alone was also another oddity in Wutai, likely hence Genesis had taken time for himself, even though Sephiroth was, or had been, AWOL.

“Are you alright?” Angeal asked, leaning against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest.

Sephiroth looked over his shoulder at him, silver hair swaying. His eyes passed over Angeal, peripheral vision apparently better than any other living human’s and then turned back to his food. That look, the calculation there, the slight upturn of Sephiroth’s lips, was enough to make a small shiver run up Angeal’s spine.

“I’m fine, Angeal,” Sephiroth said evenly. Turning the omelette over as he dumped it on a plate, he set the plate itself aside and then set about making another. “That’s yours.”

Angeal leaned over and took the plate, then fished through Sephiroth’s drawers for cutlery, found only mismatched and out of date cutlery one would expect to find bellow the plate rather than above it. Angeal smiled a little, casting a glance at Sephiroth as he poured his egg mixture onto the pan, expression serene.

His friend could not be judged by appearance. When and how he found the time to find his junk or learn to cook, Angeal didn’t know, but it was one of the most charming things about him.

He started on the omelette, leaning against the counter closer to Sephiroth this time. “This is good,” he praised, finding some of the eggs and cheese still runny slightly, the rest of it puffy and golden. The taste of it was almost smooth and buttery, almost how he imagined natural eggs would taste, but the egg shells had serial codes on them and were unusually uniform in size, common in Midgar.

Sephiroth chuckled and then fell silent as he worked.

When Angeal was nearly finished with his omelette Sephiroth reached over and flicked his old, rusted kettle on to boil water for tea and said, “You shouldn’t have come into Hojo’s labs. It was risky.”

Angeal paused, fork half way to his mouth. He lowered it back to his plate and shifted some, not quite squirming but suddenly restless. “Why, Seph? Genesis and I were worried. We’re in the middle of a war and you disappeared. We had to know you were safe. Director Lazard as much as ordered it.”

Sephiroth’s eyebrows rose and he turned his omelette over onto another plate, then pushed his pan aside, turned the heat off. “Is that so?” he asked, setting his plate aside and pulling two mugs down from his cupboard. These two were mismatched, apt to have come from the 70s some time, likely Kalm, considering the awful colouring. “If Hojo is involved, I can’t always alert you. I was tired, he seemed to notice it immediately and took actions to keep me from avoiding it. He despises our ability to veto,” Sephiroth said, chuckling as he dumped a scoop of tea leaved into the kettle of boiled water. Let it sit.

“So does Hollander,” Angeal laughed, eyes closing a little. “Listen, Seph, I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

Sephiroth shook his head and picked up his plate. He said nothing, staring at his plate as he separated a section of his omelette with his fork, then brought it to his mouth. Angeal’s eyes turned away at the sight of his lips closing around the fork.

He focused on his own omelette content to let Sephiroth collect his thoughts, and perhaps gather his courage.

Eventually, Sephiroth said, “If Hojo had been there he would never have let you leave. The techs can’t be trusted either.” He looked over at Angeal, eyes on Angeal’s plate, ostensibly, but they were a little too high for that. Probably focused on Angeal’s bare chest, since his eyes didn’t seem unfocused with thought.

Sephiroth’s eyes jumped up to his suddenly and Angeal couldn’t help but smile. “I know I took a risk, Seph. It was a calculated one. I don’t…like what they put you through. With the tank. You didn’t look…”

Sephiroth shrugged one shoulder and raised a single eyebrow. He was smiling very faintly as well and it was about as expressive as Sephiroth ever got. Angeal recognised it for the attempt to put him at ease it was. “I survive,” Sephiroth said, eating more of his omelette and then setting it down on the counter while he poured the now brewed tea. He didn’t need to ask Angeal if he wanted it, they both instinctively knew coffee was only something they could bear with copious amounts of sugar and even then nothing they could have made in their apartments.

He handed Angeal a cup, watching him as he sniffed and then sipped at it. Peppermint. It was about as organic as Sephiroth could likely get, and expensive too. The taste was more heat and smell than anything, soothed a throat almost accidently as a consequence. After swimming in mako, breathing it, for over a week, Angeal thought Sephiroth had chosen it because he needed it. The after taste was worth the price as well, light and calming as mint was.

“It’s not like I’m normal,” Sephiroth said added, tone light.

Angeal stared at Sephiroth for a moment. “None of us are,” he said, eyebrows drawing down. “We’re all the same, Seph, you’re just a little stronger than us all.”

Sephiroth shook his head and sipped at his own tea, omelette forgotten.

“Maybe,” Sephiroth said, closing his eyes. There was knowledge there, something that was lost on Angeal. If it was classified, and likely was considering the way the tech had spoken about Sephiroth and Project S, then Angeal would probably never know.

Angeal still truly believed, with all that he was, that Sephiroth was no different to them however. Sephiroth handled J cells a little differently, and likely had more of them, was all. He’d also had a much different upbringing and…

Angeal lowered his head, and the both of them finished their omelettes and tea, then set their cups aside.

It was difficult to reassure the other man when he looked so different, when he performed so different to the rest of them, and so gracefully as well. “I’ll wash these,” Angeal said instead, nodding to their plates and cups, their forks.

Sephiroth made a small pleased sound in the back of his throat and pulled back. “Alright,” he all but purred, and withdrew from the kitchen as Angeal did as promised, washing their cutlery and plates. He cleaned the frying pan Sephiroth had used as well, set everything back in their cupboards.

When he was done he pressed his hands against the counter and closed his eyes, let his head drop. He could hear Sephiroth moving about in his room, changing the sheets on his bed, tossing the old ones out into the hall to be washed. His fastidiousness was as legendary as his swordsmanship and it distracted Angeal a little, a smile coming to his lips, but really he couldn’t deny that he was half hard and contemplating fucking his friend.

It wouldn’t be odd. Sephiroth was certainly aware that Angeal and Genesis occasionally had sex and Sephiroth himself was open to it, though few rarely approached him and Sephiroth just simply didn’t initiate it, either because of rank or personality. Angeal had noticed the looks though, from behind long dark eyelashes. And the draw, the protectiveness he’d felt at seeing Sephiroth in that tank, was almost choking him.

Sephiroth had always been lacking in being shown basic human kindness, and understanding that kindness. Socially he was underdeveloped and miles ahead of where he had been on arriving in Wutai, freshly unleashed from the labs and almost rabid in the most curiously restrained way. His eyes had lost the wild joy at being able to walk around on his own after a while as he’d fallen into military life. They had trained him from a young age to be a general, that much was obvious, but the lack of experience had had to be dealt with first and foremost and it was something Sephiroth had arrived with in mind on his first landing at Alpha Base.

If Sephiroth wanted it as well, it was hard to tell but that look before had seemed to say he had at least thought of it.

Angeal straightened and ran a hand through his hair, rubbed at the stubble on his jaw, longer now from neglect of his usual morning routine, not that Sephiroth seemed to mind.

Sephiroth who was bent over fixing the corner sheets of his bed when he stepped into the doorway of his bedroom. He didn’t say anything, apparently not minding Angeal watching him.

With the sun streaming in through the window over Sephiroth bed, the light caught his silver hair as it slid over one shoulder, baring the muscles in his back as he moved, and his lose cotton pants did little to hide the fact that he wasn’t wearing underwear beneath them. He jerked at the covers of the bed, pulling them up and smoothing them with a sweep of a hand.

Angeal simply gave in and stepped up to the bed beside him, carpet soft beneath his toes, and pressed his hand to the small of Sephiroth’s back.

Sephiroth slowed and then stopped, falling still, remaining bent over the bed.

“I missed this,” Angeal said, watching him, the light catching his eyes, bringing out the glow a little more.

Sephiroth turned his head a little, hair falling further until Angeal could see his cheek and the tip of his aristocratic nose, long, dark eyelashes. “What?” he asked, smiling faintly though Angeal couldn’t quite see it.

“Domesticity,” Angeal said, smoothing his hand up Sephiroth’s spine, bending a little as he did. That Sephiroth hadn’t already thrown him out the window was good, as much of an okay as he thought he would ever get from Sephiroth. It was nice, gratifying that Angeal’s instincts hadn’t been wrong, especially when Sephiroth rarely spoke about such things. He edged around his sexual experience and buffeted Genesis’ hints, only adding to the other’s opinion of him being stuck up and self-important. Genesis’ interest still remained though, as did Angeal’s, though this was the first time he’d made his interest obvious.

Angeal knew Sephiroth wasn’t anything Genesis hollowly accused Sephiroth of being in fits of jealousy. Knew he was only trying to cope. Trying to live a life that he wasn’t sure how to operate in that did not have rules of engagement or standards of procedure. He flailed in the arena of social interaction, only reacted and didn’t instigate for the most part.

Not unless he had an objective.

Angeal understood him. His friend.

Sephiroth may have called his goals objectives, but they were dreams. Just under another name. A SOLDIER without a driving force, a dream, was destined to be a failure.

Sephiroth chuckled and turned his face down to the sheets, shifted enough to keep himself propped up with his elbows. “I don’t miss it,” he said, drawing Angeal back to the present. “I wasn’t made for this.”

“I know,” Angeal said softly, and it hurt inside to admit it. He slid a hand up one of Sephiroth’s thighs and gripped at the smooth round of his ass, watched Sephiroth lean forward a little, head dropping at the action.

Sephiroth closed his eyes and let his mouth fall open. “When the war began,” he said, pausing and opening his eyes again as Angeal drew his cotton pants down, bearing him. He fisted his hands in the sheets and Angeal paused. Moved his hand back to the middle of Sephiroth’s back, pressed his lips to the skin between his shoulder, over his spine.

Sephiroth made a small sound in the back of his throat. Closed his eyes.

“When the war began…?” Angeal prompted, moving down a vertebrae and kissing lightly, large, calloused hands smoothing over Sephiroth’s sides as he crouched behind him.

“When the war began,” Sephiroth continued, “I was fifteen but my life up to that point had been monster hunting and VR simulations. Wutai…is the best thing that had ever happened to me,” he said, sighing and dropping his head to the sheets as Angeal licked at his lower back. “What happens to SOLDIER after? Peacekeeping? I need the war.”

Angeal watched him, smoothing his hands down to Sephiroth’s ass and looking for a moment while he processed his words. Sephiroth was hard, cock flushed and resting against the bed. The sight, despite Sephiroth’s words, sent a shiver up his spine that travelled right back down and ended up in his cock as it hardened entirely.

“I don’t know, Seph,” Angeal said honestly, heart aching even so. “But we will find a way to cope. All of us. They won’t…put us all out to pasture. We were too expensive, and too much of a warning for revolutionaries.” Hard as the Wutaian’s were fighting, there would be revolutionaries. Already where in the continents.

Sephiroth was silent for a moment, then grunted, something of an amused sound. “All of us,” he said, sounding surprised. 

Angeal leaned forward and ran his tongue up from the base of Sephiroth full balls up over his entrance. Listened to Sephiroth grunt again and fist his hands in the sheets. They could have continued talking about it, but Angeal had tried before and this was the most he’d ever gotten out of him. He knew that asking and pushing would never get anything. Sephiroth had to volunteer the information and if he stopped now, Sephiroth would lock himself away, not in his apartment, but in himself.

“You’re lucky I’m clean,” Sephiroth sighed, lifting his head and laughing faintly.

Angeal rolled his eyes. “I know you have a system, Sephiroth,” he said, and licked again, pressing his tongue in lightly, tasting only mako and pure Sephiroth.

Sephiroth grunted and rocked a little, pressed his cheek to his arm. He opened his eyes a little, pupils blown wide and hair in his face. “My system works,” he all but purred, panting and rocking back against the press of Angeal’s tongue. He smiled a little as Angeal pulled his tongue free and licked instead at his perineum, nudging Sephiroth’s legs apart a little more. 

“It caught your interest, didn’t it?” Sephiroth asked, amused.

Angeal paused a moment and looked up at Sephiroth. “Seph, is being clean your way of flirting?” he asked, pressing a finger against Sephiroth’s perineum and rocking it a little. He listened to Sephiroth’s aborted moan. Sephiroth stopped himself from breathing to hide any further sound, and a slow smile of satisfaction crept over his lips.

He shuddered, Angeal’s finger managing to press against his prostate lightly, the light brush sending a wash of feather-light pleasure through him. When he could manage it, he took a breath and raised his head, not that he could see Angeal or anything but the other side of the room. “It worked, didn’t it?” he asked again, laughing lightly. “Though if you insist on kissing me, you’re going to have to brush your teeth.”

“Really?” Angeal asked, amused. He pulled Sephiroth’s pants off all the way, and rose, arousal making it a little difficult. He watched Sephiroth crawl further onto the bed as he worked at his belts, cock hard and aching.

Sephiroth rolled over onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows, somehow still managing to look completely dangerous as he watched Angeal’s fingers work his buckles.

Seeing him like this, hair pooling on the bed, breathing short and sharp, interest obvious in his bright blown eyes and his hard, flushed cock, Angeal couldn’t think of his polar opposite.

There weren’t two distinct personalities, but rather masks Sephiroth wore. If Sephiroth never truly understood the world around him and merely acted as he thought he was meant to, actions learned from others, General Sephiroth knew more and could be more than any other living being. One was sometimes unnerving and the other entirely confident and dangerous. Hojo would have hardly been a loving figure, and with no parents what to speak of, that Angeal knew.

Sephiroth had mentioned he had a father, but never said anything more. Hadn’t as yet anyway.

Memories of his own father made the old pain in his heart flare, and he pulled his belts from their loops, let them fall beside the bed. He didn’t move any further, merely watched Sephiroth. Did Sephiroth understand or was he only reacting as he’d seen others do. Physical interest meant very little when that came into play. That being the question of consent.

“Do you want this, Seph?” he asked, gesturing between them, tilting his head. The question wasn’t sexually charged in the least. “I don’t want us to change. You’re still my friend. You’ll always be my friend but I need to know…”

“If you weren’t someone I had considered, you would not be here,” Sephiroth drawled. He pushed himself up, kneeling on the bed, and worked at Angeal’s zipper, eyes bright. “The question is,” he continued, “are you ready?”

Angeal shot him an amused and yet relieved look, helped Sephiroth remove his pants and toss them aside. When he straightened he looked back to Sephiroth and raised an eyebrow. “Ready for what—”

He dodged just in time, ducking out and away from Sephiroth’s swing, saw the faint smile on the other’s face and knew this for what it was; a game. He tackled Sephiroth onto the bed, listened to all of the air rush out of him and heard the bed groan under the impact.

Sturdy bed. Excellent.

They grappled, Sephiroth bucking and arching, silent but for his wordless growls and panting, long here seemingly everywhere though he made no complaints when it was accidently tugged. Sephiroth might have been the stronger of the two of them but not on his back and not against Angeal, who was bulkier and had the upper hand in brute strength. It was more arousing than it should have been and Angeal saw why Sephiroth wanted it, found himself grinning as he did, enjoying himself, the slide of his own skin against Sephiroth’s even as the other man punched him in the side and used his shock to roll them over.

Angeal kept them rolling until he could fist a hand in Sephiroth’s hair, since they were going to play it that way, and rose up, yanking Sephiroth with him. He pushed and pulled at Sephiroth until he had him face down in the sheets again. Sephiroth turned his head to the side and Angeal leaned over him, holding him down with his weight, a forearm pressed against Sephiroth’s cheek, forcing his head down into the mattress.

Sephiroth stilled after a moment, muscles in his back twitching as he gripped the sheets tightly.

The room was filled with their panting. Angeal couldn’t remember being so hard.

Sephiroth grunted as Angeal’s weight pressed down on him a little more as he leaned over, tugged the drawer out of Sephiroth’s bedside table and set it on the bed where he could reach it better. He plucked a new tube of lube from it and stared at it and then Sephiroth a moment. True enough, Angeal realised he hadn’t been the one that had decided to have sex, Sephiroth had been.

He shifted, looked down at him. “Why didn’t you just ask, Seph?”

Sephiroth shrugged as much as he could, looking amused. “What would I have said?” he asked, voice muffled by the sheets.

Angeal shifted, keeping his forearm on Sephiroth head, and unscrewed the cap and squeeze some of the lube onto his fingers. “Anything,” he said.

Sephiroth chuckled, like he’d made a joke though Angeal had been entirely serious.

He capped the bottle carefully and tossed it back in the drawer, worked the lube over his fingers and nudged at Sephiroth’s knee with his own, fighting against Sephiroth’s resistance until he growled a little and let Angeal spread his legs a little more.

He caressed his entrance a moment before pushing his finger inside, watching Sephiroth. Hard and willing his own hands not to shake, his whole body feeling like it was on fire.

Sephiroth made a soft sound, eyes closing, and shifted at the intrusion. Bit at the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet.

Angeal murmured quietly, unable to help himself. “That’s it,” he breathed and Sephiroth’s eyes shot open, muscles tensing again. Angeal hushed him, though he hadn’t spoke, and worked his finger in and out slowly. Took his time until Sephiroth relaxed again.

Angeal’s fingers weren’t exactly small, and Sephiroth grunted as he pressed another finger in, lube helping it slide inside him, helping with the ebb and flow of pleasure. He looked up as well as he could, past the fall of his own hair and Angeal’s forearm, and gripped at the sheets.

Angeal smiled down at him. Curled his fingers a little until he saw rather than heard his finger stroke the right place. Sephiroth tensed again, but in an entirely different way, mouth falling open and eyes falling closed.

He kept it up and eventually Sephiroth shuddered and choked off what might had been a moan.

Longer still and Sephiroth snapped, “Get on with it,” glaring a little, cock hard and leaking trapped between himself and the bed. He trembled faintly, hands fisting and releasing the sheets repetitively, not quite squirming but in danger of it.

Angeal chuckled and took his time, watching his fingers slide in and out of Sephiroth. “I doubt you’ll tell me if you haven’t done this before so I would rather be sure,” he said. He crooked his fingers harder, pressing against that place again, watching.

Sephiroth shuddered and closed his eyes, mouth falling open, jaw likely aching a little from the pressure on one side of his face. He made no sound, but his enjoyment was plain to see, a flush rising from his chest, not quite reaching his face. It was arousing enough that Angeal paused for a moment and took a deep, calming breath even as his cock twitched, needy.

He would never get over the way Sephiroth and Genesis looked like this.

Sephiroth said nothing though, confirming Angeal’s suspicions. It would take more than how far their friendship had evolved so far for the other to open up completely, more now that Angeal had snuck in and invaded Sephiroth’s privacy by spying on him in his lab. Still Sephiroth squirmed as much as he was able under Angeal, panting and making a face something like pain that was pure, agonised pleasure.

Angeal watched him for as long as he could and then worked a third finger inside Sephiroth tentatively, adding more lube as he did. Maybe because he liked to torture himself, but also because the sight of Sephiroth like this was one he didn’t want to lose quickly.

Sephiroth grunted and bared his teeth a little, eyes flying open. The green of his eyes was almost shocking against the white of the sheets, the dull grey of the covers of the bed and silver of his hair. Vibrant.  “Angeal,” he said again, demanding, breath hitching and eyes falling half closed as Angeal rocked his fingers against his prostate again.

“Hm?” he asked, raising a single eyebrow and smiling a little.

Sephiroth growled and released the sheets with one arm, swung his arm back until Angeal was forced to take his arm off Sephiroth’s head or be hit in the side by Sephiroth’s elbow, a blow he knew would smart for a day or two, even with his advanced healing.

Angeal pulled his fingers from Sephiroth, rather out of necessity as he started struggling again, pushing up and bucking Angeal off him. Angeal managed to keep him from turning, less because he wouldn’t mind being fucked by Sephiroth, or seeing his face, and more because Sephiroth was allowing this to happen, even seemed to prefer it this way. He wasn’t pulling his strength, not really, but he was choosing all of the wrong foot holds and angles that would have allowed him to put distance between them and turn to face Angeal. It was endearing, really, but also spoke volumes about Sephiroth not wanting Angeal to see him entirely vulnerable, even if they were going to fuck.

Angeal managed to get himself up on his knees and jerk one of Sephiroth’s arms up behind his back, wrist was level with his shoulder blades. It forced Sephiroth into an arch, silver hair cascading, he grasped the other’s hip and pulled him back. Managed for push his way inside him, hips snapping forward with something of a mixture of a deep growl and groan at the feel of him.

Sephiroth’s reaction was immediate; a deep echoing groan that filled the room. The shudder that passed through him went all the way to Angeal’s cock. They held still a moment, panting. Eyes closed, Angeal shifted his hand from Sephiroth’s waist up to his chest, holding him.

“Good,” Angeal breathed, opening his eyes and flexing his hips a little.

Sephiroth nodded, expression a myriad of things Angeal didn’t think he could decipher, able to see Sephiroth’s reflection in the window above the bed. He didn’t think Sephiroth had realised as much, and it confirmed Angeal’s though of why Sephiroth wanted it this way.

He moved slowly, pulling out and rolling his hips forward again, shuddering at the sensation, watching the green glow of Sephiroth’s eyes through their transparent reflections. Again he thought of Sephiroth at war compared to how he was now. Genesis was the same, though not to the same degree as Sephiroth. The range of emotion there was heartbreaking.

After a moment though Sephiroth leaned forward and grasped the top of the headboard with his one free arm, rocked back against Angeal slowly as he rolled his hips. Not able to spy, even if it made Angeal feel somewhat guilty, he leaned back a little and watched his cock slide in and out of Sephiroth with each roll of his hips. It was a lazy pace, the both of them adjusting, and even seeing only Sephiroth’s back, none of his expression, Angeal could see his deep breaths, the way they shuddered as he released them, hair spilling over his sides and shoulders. He released the arm he was holding at Sephiroth’s back, pulled his hair over to one side so he could see more of him, if only a cheek and jaw.

He leaned over him, caressing Sephiroth’s sides as they moved, speeding up a little, need urging them on, pleasure pulling them along. “Seph,” he groaned, kissing up his spine as they moved together, sliding a hand beneath Sephiroth to cup his neck and chin, and urging his head up while he kissed his cheek and jaw.

Sephiroth may not have made any sounds but his pleasure was plain to hear in his breathing and movements, and Angeal could imagine his expression, the way he gripped at the headboard with one hand, the other going beneath him to work his own cock as they moved.  They let their need guide their pace, bringing them to a fever pitch eventually, Angeal moaning and rubbing at Sephiroth’s jaw with his thumb, Sephiroth cutting off his groans and closing his eyes.

Eventually Sephiroth released the headboard, letting Angeal hold him up. He buried his hand in Angeal dark hair, fingers fisting in it lightly as he stroked himself.

“Seph,” Angeal called again when he was close, voice strained. Sephiroth tightened around him and it pulled a sharp groan from him, face turning into Sephiroth’s neck as he fucked him harder, the pleasure spiralling through him.

“Do it,” Sephiroth gasped, first time he’d made any substantial sound since he’d filled him. It was hoarse and open, his friend laid bare.

Angeal nodded and kept his pace, bit at Sephiroth’s shoulder lightly as he let the rise of his orgasm control him, fucking Sephiroth harder, drawing a groan from him that wasn’t quite cut off in time. The sound alone was enough to send Angeal right up to the edge and then over it a moment later, gasping and gripping Sephiroth’s jaw tighter as he did, fucking him harder, hard enough to make the bed rock, and Sephiroth laugh quietly.

The world disappeared for a moment. Nothing but pleasure and heat, the feel of Sephiroth’s back against him, and his heat around him.

When he could see again he convinced his hand to reach for Sephiroth’s cock, nudging his own away worked him hard and fast, trying to keep his hips snapping forward despite the quickly looming oversensitivity. Sephiroth shuddered and gasped, moved with him almost desperately, turning his face away as much as Angeal would allow him, and came with an exceedingly silent, shiver, jerking in Angeal’s hand, spilling himself.

Angeal worked him until Sephiroth shuddered and raised a hand to cover his own, stilling it.

The both of them remained as they were for a long moment, catching their breath. Angeal let his cheek rest on Sephiroth’s shoulder and let his hand fall from his jaw, instead spread it over his chest while his other hand rubbed Sephiroth’s come into his abdomen. Sephiroth let him hold him too, utterly relaxed, eyes closed as he focused on the ease that came after orgasm.

It was a long moment before Angeal released Sephiroth and pulled back out of him. He bit his lip as he watched his own come slide down his cock as he helped Sephiroth down, followed him until they were side by side on their backs, still close to each other.

Sephiroth stared up at the ceiling for a long while, letting his body cool, and then closed his eyes.

Angeal only realised he was asleep when he looked over at him and saw that his chest was rising and falling evenly, deeply, and the expression on his face had smoothed out into one of calm.

This expression was different to the blank one Sephiroth had worn in the tanks and it troubled Angeal. His own expression sobered, and he reached over, after a moment, to push Sephiroth’s hair from him face, smiled as the other didn’t even stir.

The trust Sephiroth had shown him, was showing him, was purely amazing.

And he was very aware that he was the only person Sephiroth had allowed to do so, up until this point.

Angeal closed his eyes and let himself rest, enjoying the mid-morning sun on his body. Distantly he heard his PHS buzz in his pants but he left it for a moment. It could only have been Genesis and the man could wait for his own turn.

Sephiroth faked sleep until Angeal’s breathing evened out entirely. He listened to his heartbeat to be sure he wasn’t faking it, as Sephiroth had been, then opened his eyes to look over at the other. Angeal was exhausted, and wasn’t admitting it to himself. Sephiroth could see it in the way he moved and spoke, in his eyes. Angeal hadn’t slept in Sephiroth’s absence, the knowledge that Sephiroth was in Hojo’s labs and the revelation of exactly what that meant had been keeping him from it.

If he wasn’t so honourable, if Angeal’s father hadn’t died and solidified Angeal’s ideal of honour, Sephiroth could have talked him out of such concern, he was sure. It looked entirely too painful, to suffer as he did for others in the way he did.

Sephiroth was furious with him for it, but really, what could he do? A trend of stupid actions came with living by such a code. Pain and burden. Sephiroth found himself slipping into the similar actions, time and time again, for the SOLDIERs under his care on the front lines. The infantry as well, yes, but they weren’t like him like the SOLDIERs were. Weren’t kin, brothers in arms.

Weren’t made by and from him, since he’d been the first. First and best, if Hojo was to be believed.

Still that, he supposed, was his unspoken code, and he was a hypocrite to denounce Angeal’s. It was his dream.

So he said nothing.

Every SOLDIER had suffered the tanks to rise to their class just as he, though they were unaware of it. Sephiroth would never tell them otherwise, it being classified. Nor would he ever inform Angeal that he’d essentially marked himself for treason, if not Hojo’s ire, by sneaking into his labs. Angeal had walked into more company secrets than was healthy when he’d seen Sephiroth floating in the tank.

If the cost of freedom was the price of advancement, of greatness, then Sephiroth’s life made perfect sense. It couldn’t be any other way. Sephiroth was special. No one had told Sephiroth as much (other than Hojo) but he’d be an idiot if he didn’t notice it was more than merely being the first. Sephiroth was better, stronger and smarter.

And yet, this damned war was pushing him to his limits.

So after satisfying Lazard’s requirements for bureaucracy in the never ending rotation of unnecessary links in the chain of command he'd delivered himself into his father’s clawed, greedy little hands. The man may have made Sephiroth what he was, but Sephiroth had hated him for it every waking moment. Hojo would never be as powerful as he was, though, and that was some small solace.

His life was a series of glimpses at the sky, pocket marked by confusing mako-dreams of Hojo smiling up at him from behind dirty, wire-rimmed glasses and a haze of emerald fever dreams of a red-eyed woman.

The stall of the war in recent months was grating on Sephiroth. Infuriating him. No one could hold any town, any base, and they had not managed to advance the lines in three months. It gnawed at him, deeply so. His anger rose, stuck in his throat, made his eyes burn until he saw the light of them reflecting against his own hair. Stagnating, not advancing, not conquering, was maddening.

And Lazard put him on leave.

The chance to be clean and rest was welcome indeed, but Sephiroth was well rested again already. He needed to get back to Wutai. To where he belonged, to where the fire in his blood spread and soothed his soul. What could he do here, in Midgar?

Angeal had been a wonderful solution. But even so; the warm and soft sensation that grew in his breast when he saw, and held and talked to the man, did not lessen the ache in him. J cells, Hojo had said. His genetics. Feeling like kin to the Project G subjects would not be strange, boy.

Sephiroth pushed himself up slowly, letting his hair fall over one shoulder as he looked over at the other man. Laying on his back, one hand on his stomach, Angeal was the very picture of a soldier. And Gaia, that cock had made the frustration drain away into the ether, if only for a time. It had felt wonderful, and his ass ached from it still, yet he wanted more. Wanted to fuck Angeal, watch the play of expressions on his face as he knew there would be. He thought he’d feel less open if he fucked the next time, but he had needed something else this first time, after the way Angeal had looked at him from the outside of the tank.

Needed him inside.

He was leaking though, and that was utterly disgusting. As disgusting as the damp spot on his sheets, which was irking Sephiroth a great deal. He couldn’t wake Angeal to change the covers, since the other man had fallen asleep on top of them, and it was almost enough to make Sephiroth dump his friend off the other side of the bed in a fit of pique anyway.

He went for a shower instead, moving silently, focusing on the slowly lessening ache in his ass. He had no doubt if Angeal fucked an unaltered man as he had Sephiroth, they would have suffered more than a few aches and pains. To make Sephiroth feel anything was a feat. It made him smile softly as he showered, washed his hair again though he’d done so already that morning. He brushed his teeth as well, left an unopened spare on the counter for Angeal. The other man would get the hint, especially after Sephiroth’s denial of his kisses.

He was curious how his day old stubble, along with what growth he usually kept, would feel against his mouth. It had felt wonderful against his back and jaw as he’d fucked him.

He brushed his hair, using the system Angeal had teased him about. Adam had been the name of the tech who had taught him when he was old enough to learn to do it himself. Sephiroth had asked how he could be sure it was sufficient and the man had considered a moment, then given him a number.

“How about ten?” he’d said, crouching down to be at Sephiroth’s level.

He’d snorted. “Ten what?”

“Ten strokes for your hair by section. Ten per tooth. Five for flossing,” Adam had said, gesturing with a hand to Sephiroth’s hair brush.

Sephiroth nodded with all of the determination of a four year old and turned to face himself in the mirror, set about brushing his hair carefully.

“It would be easier if you cut it, you know,” the tech said, rising and focusing on his clipboard a moment, ticking off that Sephiroth had gone through his daily health routine before he was technically supposed to. That irritated Sephiroth too.

“Jenova has long hair,” Sephiroth said blandly.

The tech looked at him and even though his focus was on himself in the mirror, Sephiroth could see him just fine in his peripheral vision, eyes snapping to him as what Sephiroth had come to learn was a buzzword amongst Hojo’s scientists. “She did,” he said at length, turning his paper over on his clipboard and writing something. Not unusual, predictable even.

“Then I want it long.”

Walking back into his kitchen, Sephiroth made himself lunch after checking Angeal hadn’t misplaced anything. With the amount of calories SOLDIERs burned, he was almost constantly hungry, and his and Angeal’s breakfast had been light for all the omelettes had been as thick as he could manage to make them. He made himself a sandwich this time, the bread and paste he used on it, along with salad and meat, was provided by Shinra and he rather suspected wasn’t actually made from animal, grain or nut. If it was synthetic, it didn’t taste it, but it held nothing that offended his senses like organic food and certainly didn’t have the price or lack of calories anything short of a ton or corn and potatoes could give him.

The eggs had certainly been synthetic, had tasted like plastic, yet Angeal hadn’t complained so Sephiroth rather suspected it was yet another thing he shouldn’t mention to his friends, especially Genesis.

He made another round of sandwiches and pulled down a 1960s style plate with a delicate floral design to place it on, padded through to his lounge room to sit. He still hadn’t pulled any clothes on, but he’d been mostly clothed and battle-ready for his entire deployment and as long as Angeal was here he could pass it of as subtle flirting or honest forgetfulness.

He had a TV and it was ungodly large and at odds with the rest of his furniture; all outdated, old and what Genesis had called ‘homey’ which Sephiroth thought was redundant but accurate. Switching the TV on with a press of a button he leaned back in his couch and kept the volume down as he flipped through the channels until he found gave up and went to the series he had cued up and played that instead.

He paused with the second round of his sandwich half-way to his mouth as he heard Angeal’s snore drift out from him room, and laughed quietly to himself as he turned his eyes to the TV again, returning to his food. Angeal’s PHS buzzed in the bedroom again and Sephiroth kept his eyes on the TV.

The series was his favourite and had been made some time in the 60s when film quality was still awful. It focused around a grandmother, the matriarch of her brood, and her seemingly endless procession of family and relatives, namely her grandchildren as they dealt with the Mideel war. She, the grandmother, was never named and never moved from the setting of her kitchen and dining room and even though the film was grainy and her expressions tight-lipped and often full of banked rage, her family loved her and gave her endless trouble.

Granny’s house, what they could see of it, was full of wonderful things Sephiroth collected and filled his apartment with, and there were yet things he had not managed to obtain.

There were other shows, more modern ones, but this one…

This one he had been watching since he was a child, and another tech, Eve, had introduced him to this show. She’d allowed Sephiroth to watch it exactly once and the first leave Sephiroth took of the Wutai war he had walked into sector 1 and bought as much of the items from the show he could recognise. He was nearly done, though he couldn’t remodel his kitchen, he could, at least, imitate most things.

Modern furniture held no interest to him. The cool functionality of it turned his mind to the rest of his life, and here, in this apartment, he would fill it with things he desired.

So he refreshed his memory needlessly and let the episode play as he finished his food and washed and returned his plate, listening to Angeal snore. When it was finished he flipped back to regular TV and found a news channel while he pulled Masamune from the wall, moved his coffee table and collected the box with his cleaning gear.

He sat and listened to the presenters spew inaccurate guesses as to the state of the war, accurate death tolls and sensationalised recounts of his, Genesis and Angeal’s return to Midgar by the head of the Shinra SOLDIER faction fanclubs.

His lips curled up at the corners, green eyes hidden behind dark eyelashes as he smoothed his white cloth down a section of his blade’s length, hair spilling over his shoulder as he did.

Better to be SOLDIER rather than living in ignorant bliss like the rest of the world.