[ Angeal watches him, his mind trying to shake from what he was doing to Zack and the acceptance of the end that was going to come, eventually, and try to figure out what had happened to Sephiroth. This seems to have been a surprise to Zack, who had seen him far sooner than Angeal himself.
A part of him thinks he should be afraid of that look in Sephiroth's eyes. It's fury and it's cold and it's crazed and it is, right now, very focused on Angeal. But he doesn't feel fear. Only shame, yes. Guilt. Grief, for whatever did happen to Sephiroth. Concern. For Sephiroth, that is, not himself.
He had meant to never leave this space, after all.
His shoulders do not square up, but he doesn't back away, either. ]
Funny. [ There is not even a trace of mirth to him. ] I thought I was giving you the luxury of running away from me. From a real, [ he motions towards one of the copies that Masamune cut down, ] monster.
[Sephiroth laughs, his head tipped back, but there's no humor in it. It's cold and sharp-- a knife in the dark. His eyes rove the sky past the shattered roof, like he's admiring some grandiose vision that only he can see.] Oh... [It's almost melodic, the way he practically purrs that oh.] You've seen nothing of true monstrosity.
[Gradually, his reverent gaze sinks back down, finding its way back to Angeal.]
...But I can show you.
[There's a place - a place in between places, rather - that interconnects worlds. It's there that he intends to take Angeal if he'll follow. And... it's there that he's seen many things. Glimpses of things that were and things that are. It's where he's gone to catch glimpses of Angeal. It's why he even started all of this in the first place. A piece of the man he loved still clings to his heart, reminding him of who he was and what could have been. Being here now, standing so close to Angeal at last, brings memories to the surface that he long thought lost to the Lifestream. He remembers quiet nights spent in each others' arms-- sometimes cooking a meal, sometimes reading together on the couch. He remembers the way Angeal would lean into his touches, and it makes his fingers itch, yearning to touch.
In his reverie, Sephiroth has drifted ever closer, his free hand eventually coming up to cage Angeal's jaw in his fingers. He seldom hesitates to take what he wants anymore, but... even amidst the chaos churning inside of him, he knows that this isn't his Angeal... He has no right to have him.
But it doesn't stop the hungry and longing way he beholds the other man, his eyes lingering a little too long on Angeal's lips.]
Yes. Let me show you what future awaits... if you continue down this fool's path.
[ Angeal has not lived through years and years of fighting without strong instincts about some things. Like life and death, to begin with. And he knows that, even as he is now, Sephiroth is not someone he can overpower easily. Or at all.
But he also doesn't think that Sephiroth is here to kill him. A small part of him thinks, pity. Much more of him is grateful - there is a reason he asked this of Zack, not Sephiroth.
And the rest of him can't help, even now, even as he is, the sudden tide of desire that rises as the man draws near, touches him, practically devours him with those eyes. He'd thought he had suppressed those feelings, bid them farewell when he no longer could stay with Shinra, when he no longer could believe himself human, and, yet...
(If Sephiroth is not a human, either, as the wing evidences... Then, as they match...)
He gives these thoughts a firm shake. Breathes out, long and as steady as he can make it. ]
Is there a better one, then? One that will erase more suffering?
[ He meets Sephiroth's gaze, eyes still mostly hopeless, but unflinching. ]
[Is there a better one, then? One that will erase more suffering? he asks, and Sephiroth's mouth quirks.]
That... will depend on you, Angeal.
[He releases Angeal's jaw from his grasp none too gently and turns away from him. There's nothing ceremonial about what happens next. Sephiroth adjusts his grip on Masamune once more, this time cutting a simple swath through the air itself. It tears the very fabric of reality in two, opening wide a billowing black portal. So casual, so effortless-- as if anyone could do it with enough force and a sharpened blade. An interesting new trick, isn't it?
He doesn't turn back, issuing only a simple command:] Come... and do not dare avert your eyes.
[And then Sephiroth is sauntering into that portal.
Should Angeal meet him on the other side, he'll be meet with a nigh blinding flash of light. He'll feel as if he's suddenly floating. If he thinks to try, he'll find he's able to control his trajectory, especially with that wing of his. Around them are what appear to be hundreds of scenes playing out concurrently. It's a little overwhelming perhaps-- but luckily, Sephiroth knows where to draw Angeal's attention. He's looked at these memories many, many times...
Sephiroth will let him wander a bit if he so chooses, to let his curiosity guide him, but... there's a deliberate trail that he'll be leading Angeal on. First, it's the immediate aftermath of Angeal's death. Zack, sobbing in Aerith's church in the slums. His anger and helplessness-- his desperate attempts to honor Angeal, the sword, the memories. Sephiroth, drowning in despair in his dead lover's apartment and sitting amongst an assortment of belongings. He takes with him a shirt and a couple of plants-- it's all he can manage. Eventually, the trail fizzles-- cuts in and out. And then... it will evolve to his memories of Nibelheim. Of the reactor, of Genesis declaring him a monster, of his own despair, and soon after... the flames and his brutal massacre of the innocents living there.
He's not pulling any punches with this. Oh, no... If Angeal is so concerned with suffering, he'll show him every gory detail of the pain his absence caused.]
[ This Angeal doesn't expect a particularly gentle touch, so the way Sephiroth lets go does not make him frown. He does blink in confusion on things depending on him. He could walk through a crowd without anyone paying too much attention to him. Forgettable.
And then Sephiroth rends open the fabric of reality, and there is enough in Angeal that resonates with the power that he uses to make a shiver run through him, eyes open wide. ]
What...
[ He swallows down the rest of the question. There is a niggling feeling in his gut that the Sephiroth he knows is not the Sephiroth here. Then he finds himself in that in-between space, and needs a few moments to orient himself.
And he does.
Zack's reaction makes his shoulders slump, his wing drags a little, but he is also proud of the boy, regret and guilt eating at him even stronger.
Then he pauses, pure shock on his face.
Sephiroth... so broken. That doesn't make sense. And yet, it does. It does. What he never dared to allow himself to dream, and he is looking at the rawness of its reality. At least... ]
Is this... you?
[ He doesn't... know. He doesn't know if this is Sephiroth from the future, or somehow a different one. He seems to expect Angeal to expect this, which he... couldn't have. He still lingers, his heart aching in a way that he didn't think he would know.
Then it all fades, and Angeal can't take a breath.
Genesis... Sephiroth.
And then all the slaughter, and, even in this place, Angeal stumbles, his legs giving out. Thoughts swirling, he tries to take in air in his lungs, but he can't. He can't, not with so much pain washing over him. His own seems so... small.
Cowardly, Sephiroth called him. He is beginning to see, even while he can't really understand... or doesn't allow himself to understand how he would make a difference. ]
[Part of the caveat that comes with meddling in timelines and parallel worlds are the deviations. Sephiroth knows to expect these things by now. Sometimes, the changes are significant. Other times, they're a little more subtle. In this case, it's the latter. Sephiroth may be awash with madness, but he's not so far gone that he doesn't recognize the surprise and longing he sees in Angeal's face when he realizes Sephiroth's feelings for him.
It seems this Angeal never quite made it that far with his Sephiroth.
He wonders - idly - if it would have hurt him less this way-- to lose Angeal in blissful ignorance and not be haunted by the memory of his lips when they kissed, of the way Angeal looked at him like he was his world when he thought Sephiroth couldn't see, of the sweet mornings they spent together after making love.
Is this you? Angeal asks once, stunned, and Sephiroth doesn't answer. He turns instead-- lets a cascade of silver hair obscure his face.
He doesn't need to see Angeal's face to know he's in anguish over the trainwreck of memories he witnesses next. It's not shame that keeps Sephiroth from looking Angeal in the eye. Not really. He'd wanted nothing more than to burn his world to the ground-- to punish a planet full of people who had done nothing but objectify and weaponize him. Complicit in Shinra's putrid lies. And he did. He... continues to do so.
No... it's not shame at all. He did the only thing he could do in those moments. Rather, it's... Angeal himself. All it would take is one look of utter heartbreak to stay Sephiroth's hand from further chaos, and he still has too much fury to give while his Angeal remains lost to him. He holds no illusions that doing any of this will unbury his beloved from the Lifestream and back into his arms-- he'd given up on that fanciful hope a long time ago. None of this really even benefits him at all-- except to satiate the fragments of his old self that are still left, yearning to make a difference. If not for him, then at least other timelines. For the other versions of himself that are not yet damned to an existence of misery and hate.
For Angeal-- who still has so much to offer to every world he's in.
Is this you? Angeal asks again, his voice sounding far more harrowed this time.]
...It is. [A beat.] Have you seen enough?
[Because there's certainly more if Angeal insists on stubbornly clinging to the idea that his existence is a burden.]
[ Perhaps he should wonder. Perhaps he should consider... why is it that he thinks it's different when it's about him. But even faced with the destruction that Sephiroth has wreaked, he doesn't hate him as he hates himself for being a monster. He didn't hate Genesis, either.
Instead, it is compassion for the pain he sees lashing out that he feels. Worry. Desire to help.
After a moment, he thinks he understands.
Sephiroth, here, isn't punishing him. He is in pain still, and is asking for... Help? Understanding? Something that his Angeal wasn't there to give him. So he pulls himself together. He cannot turn away. He must not let him down again.
Voice quiet, he manages to turn and look at the radiant figure with the black wing. ]
Have you shown me enough? That I'll know what to do?
[Sephiroth turns his head just enough that one green eye sharply peers out at Angeal, considering his question for a moment. Does Angeal need to see more? Will it help him to know that Zack inevitably dies in a hailfire of bullets because of Sephiroth's massacre? Will it help him to know that Sephiroth is so consumed by his hatred that he summoned Meteor and nearly wiped out all life on the planet?
...Does Angeal need to know those stakes? Or will this be enough?
One look at Angeal, and anyone can see he's breaking more than he already was. All of this is weight heavy on his shoulders, as it should be, but Sephiroth isn't sure how much he really understands yet.]
Tell me. What is it you see, Angeal? [He pauses, turning slowly back to the shimmering walls of memories. He reaches a gloved hand out, and it passes through the memory before him, distorting it until it turns into something else. A glimpse of a happier time-- Sephiroth and Angeal standing in the kitchen - a cooking lesson - and laughing over a hardened glob of pasta noodles together. 'You're supposed to keep stirring the noodles, Seph,' comes Angeal's voice as he wraps his arms around Sephiroth's waist from behind, chuckling into his shoulder. And Sephiroth... he looks so happy in this moment-- allowed the space to be imperfect and human with the man he loves, allowed the space to be a normal person rather than a weapon, a tool.]
...I see a man who needed you. [A beat.] A man who still does. One you can save if you abandon this thought that you contribute nothing but suffering to the world around you.
[Unable to bear looking upon what he once had any longer, Sephiroth turns away from the memory, looking outward to other things instead.]
[ Perhaps it might be helpful to have an inkling about the force, as certain as gravity, that can affect Sephiroth - possibly affect them both - into who and what they need to not become. Just as awareness of what they must avoid - and if Sephiroth has hopes about finding his mother, as far as he is aware, Angeal would not refuse him without good reasons.
But he doesn't know to ask for it.
What Sephiroth shows him truly punches the air from his lungs. It's simple and it's messy and it's anything he has never dared to dream ... to be able to give to Sephiroth. Because, beyond hero, or legend, or SOLDIER, Sephiroth has ever been a person, a man, and people need each other. And Sephiroth, in all the years they have known each other, has not had all that many close to him.
Or any at all, beyond the two of them... and Genesis was too eager to try to replace him, sometimes.
A man who needed you. A man who still does.
Angeal can't bring himself to wrap an arm around Sephiroth as the memory showed him, but he does reach and hold on to Sephiroth's shoulder, in the junction where the shoulder pad attaches to the leather coat, and squeezes slightly. Then drops his arm, looking down at his hands. ]
Did you know... that when Genesis first dropped on me... the first parts of what I learned about him and me... and, I suppose, in a different way you, he also told me that Shinra is the enemy. He wanted me to choose a side, thinking I would choose his.
But I had sworn my loyalty to them. And, more... you were still with them. You are still with them, in my 'now.' [ And Zack, too. Protecting Zack from Genesis was no small part of the reason why he did not, could not, choose his old friend. Not the only part, however. ] To go up against them would mean going up against you.
Genesis asked if I was sure if I could live on that side. Their side. [ His fist clenches, the other hand holding on harder onto the handle of the Buster Sword. They both know that Genesis was not wrong, expressing that doubt.
He looks up, at Sephiroth. ]
If I am there, what will it take for you to turn on them, if they are the enemy?
[The affectionate touch to Sephiroth's shoulder makes him bristle; it's been a long time since anyone's moved into his space in such a way. It feels alien to him-- uncomfortable, almost. He knows only violence anymore. But Angeal doesn't let the touch linger for too long, and Sephiroth takes that moment to fully turn back around and face the other man once more.
Some of Sephiroth's memories of that time are completely gone-- others are muddied at best. He knows he'd felt betrayed, but... a lot of those feelings stemmed from being left in the dark. Had either one of them simply asked him, they may have found him surprisingly receptive. They had transcended his loyalties to Shinra, and the more truths he uncovered, the closer he'd come to abandoning Shinra himself.]
...Honesty is a good place to start. Obscuring the truth from him -- [Not "me". He's decidedly separating himself from these other incarnations.] -- will only lead to isolation and resentment. However...
[A breath. Sephiroth closes his eyes. He can feel the inside of his skull start to itch, to scratch. Her voice is like rats gnawing at his sense of self.]
You should know... that there is another player in this game who will do everything in her power to stop you, to divert your efforts. One who will stop at nothing to subjugate him to her will-- to be her instrument of destruction. And it will not stop at him.
Any who bear her cells are in danger. [There's a flash of something dangerous in Sephiroth's eye just then-- the way he fixes his gaze upon Angeal with an unsettling pointedness.] That... includes you.
[As for how successful she'll be, Sephiroth can't say for certain. Cloud crumbled easily underneath him and Jenova both, but he was completely fragmented and hollow to begin with. Zack, however, seemed impervious to it. But then-- Angeal and Genesis are like him; they had been directly integrated with her cells before they were ever born. Would that grant them a semblance of control? Or would it make them more susceptible to it?]
Will you endure?
[Sephiroth -- in his cruelty, his pursuit of knowledge, his desire to know if this will be another fool's errand and their efforts will amount to nothing -- elects to find out.]
Let's see.
[He'll reach out for the Jenova cells within Angeal, and it won't be gentle or gradual at all, the way he attempts to assert his influence. If it works in any measure, Angeal will be met with a splitting headache and pain so sharp that even his bones will ache.
But... he hopes he's wrong-- hopes Angeal is stronger than that.]
[ Angeal does notice the reaction, but it is not why he withdraws his hand. Even with what he has seen, the dawning awareness of what it must have taken Sephiroth to come find him.
To come save him.
He still doesn't dare, or find himself deserving of being allowed to linger. With this Sephiroth or ... his. And the question whether his would be feeling the same isn't for now, but he is aware of it.
He nods, slowly. With more knowledge, he can see how and why honesty would matter. He can fully empathize with it, too. If he had known longer, if he had had a chance to talk things with his mother, perhaps he would have found some semblance of a balance, rather than what he had faced Zack here to ask the puppy to do.
Then Sephiroth continues talking, and Angeal frowns in confusion - until the words add up with what Hollander has said, but by that point
The pain has begun.
He stumbles down, under the intensity, the suddenness of it. The snow-white wing stiffens, the feathers starting to shimmer towards a more metallic, tainted hue. ]
Jenova... [ A pained gasp. But it seems to make the pain worse, nearer somehow, so he clamps his mouth shut, gritting his teeth.
As a First, he has had his share of pain. His body can mend, but that does not mean it doesn't get hurt or feel that hurt. He knows how to manage pain, in some ways. But this, this seems to be in his entire body, and he can't immediately find a way to push it away, to push it back.
Even so, endure he does. Time seems to slow down to a crawl of agony, every breath labored. But Jenova, nor even Sephiroth, has anything to offer him to tip his sanity over the edge. Not even death, not anymore.
And there is... something else.
Angeal's emotions are strong, but very little of them is rage. Even less a desire to be the apex of existence, to conquer, to subjugate, to destroy. There is little in Angeal that resonates with her directives, little that years to surrender to the control that is being wrested from him.
Blood rolls down from one nostril, but he finally manages a tiny motion. Raises his head, if only a little. A burst of feathers explodes out from his wing, and it is pure white once more. The pain does not abate, and he doesn't ask for it. But he tries to recalibrate himself to this, to keep functioning. ]
Is this... what he would have to endure... every moment of every day? Because everyone has a breaking point.
[It's with an ethereal sort of stillness that Sephiroth watches, waiting for any kind of sign that this mission of his will fail miserably once more. Angeal buckles, straining against the influence. But that struggle is only physical, it seems. Any attempt to brush against a weakness, to push in on any fury or hatred, seems to be met with resistance. Even now, when he's so unsure of himself, Angeal's righteousness serves as a beacon.
He endures. He resists.
And then that wing of his starts to quake until it's spanning out in a glorious lash, reclaiming its resplendent white from Jenova's corrupting touch.
Sephiroth's eyes widen first, his lips parting faintly-- a rare show of surprise. He's... proud, first and foremost. Even if those words will never leave his lips, it's the most profound of all feelings blooming in his chest in this moment. But he can't help the vibrant ache that comes with it, too. What a beautiful and stark reminder this is-- one of many reasons Sephiroth had fallen in love with this man. It wasn't just his compassion, but his strength and resolution as well. Angeal's never felt the need to show off, to be more or less than what he is.
And then... a stab of envy, of anger bites at his heart. But none of it is directed at Angeal, nor even at Jenova. These venomous feelings reach only for himself-- for this blissfully ignorant version of himself whose Angeal is willing to fight for. Why should you get to have this while I toil away in loneliness? Why should you be allowed to behold this splendor while I am left wanting?
But just as quickly as those feelings begin to rise does he pull away from them. He's always known what the stakes were, and that he would not be on the receiving end of any of it.
--He's seen enough.
Just like that, Angeal is relinquished from that cellular death grip. Sephiroth averts his eyes for a while, letting them drift above him to another cluster of memories. He doesn't wish to look at Angeal right now. Not until he's wrestled his foolish heart back under control.]
Perhaps. ...There are ways to shield oneself against her.
Jenova -- [Not Mother. No-- this Sephiroth has managed to find some measure of freedom from that.] -- seeks to replace one's sense of self with her own, puppeteering those who are lost with ease. You need only show him who he is, offer him an anchor with which to steady himself, or he will anchor himself with rage in its stead.
[ Angeal has plenty of weaknesses, demonstrably. Many shortcomings, or, at least, enough that Sephiroth was left alone. But, because they are primarily turned inwards, because he was ever keenly aware of how much he has been given and gifted, thanks to his father's working himself to death to pay for the Buster Sword, those weaknesses are not ones that a consciousness wishing for death and destruction, for rage and subjugation, for hatred and annihilation, can exploit.
Slowly, he steadies himself, trying to catch his breath. (Perhaps... he did err a little on the side of believing himself less than he is. That realization will have to come later.) ]
I understand.
[ He is not certain he believes that will be enough, but... Sephiroth is the one who know what it all has been for him. Staggering as it is to comprehend, let alone believe, Angeal will have to trust him. And if it's not enough...
It will be up to him to find out what is.
He tries to properly calm his breathing. Center himself. ]
Sephiroth.
[ He knows he has other things he has to think about, to do, but... ]
[It's more than Sephiroth could ever say for himself. He crumbled easily into Jenova's waiting arms, yearning not just for rage and destruction, but for a family. Glenn and the other P0 SOLDIERs, then Angeal and Genesis-- they were the closest he'd ever had, and they'd all been taken from him. And then... after a lifetime of searching for answers about his mother, it seemed like he'd finally found her. For better or worse.
--His time mingling with all of these memories eventually did give him the real truth, and it occurs to him now that he has a chance to divulge it to Angeal... who - when he deems it necessary - can then divulge it to his Sephiroth.
What will happen to you? Angeal asks, momentarily derailing that train of thought, and Sephiroth can't help the half-scoff, half-laugh that presses past his lips. He still doesn't let his eyes drift back down, to make eye contact with Angeal. His gaze continues to idly trace the memories above; they're nothing of note, just something to keep himself distracted from the pitiful ache in his chest.]
Does it matter?
['I am not your Sephiroth,' is what he nearly says, as if he doesn't know Angeal intimately enough that such a thing would ever stop him from caring. What's more, any answer he could give will probably be one Angeal won't like. The Lifestream continues to reject him, and so he will continue to exist in isolation.]
You have a second chance. Don't squander it.
[His mind wanders back to his mother, and he thinks he sees a glimpse of her somewhere in the memories above. A nigh inaudible breath pushes past his lips-- and he decides simply to say it.]
However... I must ask something else of you. [A beat.] Before he defects, there is a name in the Shinra database he should search for. He will have the clearance to do so.
...Lucrecia Crescent.
[He won't like half of the revelations that come with it, this other Sephiroth, but... he'll know he's human. And... he'll have Angeal.]
You walked across time and space, and who knows what, to shake me out of my despair. You can't believe that you returning to your despair wouldn't matter to me. Even if it's rage and hatred... even if I won't like it. I can listen.
[ It can be a nightmare that he won't be able to do anything about. But Sephiroth would be trapped in that nightmare. If he has understood things correctly... Sephiroth has not had anyone to talk about it. For however long it has been, he has been trapped with what Jenova has been asking of him and his own pain, alone. If he can alleviate that for a moment...
It will not change anything. But it will be more than nothing.
[The way those words make Sephiroth's entire chest ache is profound. It doesn't quite reach his face beyond a subtle twitch of his mouth and the furrow of his brow, but he finally meets Angeal's gaze again.
He wonders... if they had a chance to speak again, would his Angeal still speak to him this way? If he's been watching over things from the Lifestream, he'll have seen every wretched, hateful thing Sephiroth has done. Surely he would be disgusted, honorable as he is. So many lives have been lost by Sephiroth's hand alone, and many more by the domino effect of his actions. Cloud - by far - had suffered the most, but he was also the one to free him from Jenova's shackles, to help him reclaim some of his memories. It's because of Cloud that he's able to be here at all, speaking to Angeal like this-- like a man rather than a cryptic monster with a sinister agenda. They'd shared some kind of kinship by the end-- nothing that could ever fill the respective voids in their hearts. They'd done too much damage to each other, but... the least he could do was grant Cloud peace after that, to allow him to be with his loved ones once more.
It meant leaving Sephiroth to his loneliness again, but... it's what he deserves, really. Even as it rankles him with rage and hatred.
He doesn't deserve... this. Angeal's empathy, his kind eyes, an ear and shoulder free of judgment. For a moment, he's even tempted to turn him away-- to cut the floor underneath him and return him to his timeline without a word. His fingers even tighten around Masamune, the leather of his gloves creaking with tension.
...But something stays his hand. For a moment, he could almost swear he feels fingertips brushing against his knuckles, the back of his hand. A squeeze. 'Stop.' But of course... when Sephiroth spares a glance, there is nothing. If he hadn't already been riddled with madness once, he'd say he's losing his mind. An exasperated breath pushes from his nose, his lips pressing into a thin line... but his grip on Masamune loosens.]
Stubborn fool. [It somehow sounds as fond as it does annoyed.] As you wish.
...There is nothing for me to return to. Merely emptiness. I am forbidden to join with the Lifestream, and so I wait only for the world to begin anew. Changing fate for others has done little to change mine.
[ He might not be this Sephiroth's Angeal, but he is Angeal. And, once he has had reason to stop thinking of himself as the obstacle that needs to be removed for things to improve, he has plenty of energy to pour into others. And Sephiroth is right there.
The answer is somehow... worse than he thought, though he did not know what to expect. His mouth firms into a thin line, but he doesn't flinch, or turn away.
Although, after a moment, he frowns. ]
Even if it may be... it's not a sound long-term solution. If solitude and despair and rage are what caused you to succumb and wreak destruction, leaving you alone and hopelessness to your unsated rage... will that not lead to the same disaster?
[ He is not trying to give hope. But he is certainly puzzled. It is possible that nothing else can be done, but leaving Sephiroth like that? With his powers to traverse realities at the very least still intact? ]
Perhaps there will be something else, eventually.
[ Something more, perhaps. Who is he to know? Sciense sometimes moves too fast for him, though he grasps principles; the way of the Star?
But he knows enough tactics and strategy to know that's just a ticking bomb. And that's even less what he wants, for his friend. (For the man he loves. The thought floats in his mind, and, for once, he doesn't push it back down. If he can do this... if he can spare his Sephiroth this fate. Perhaps he will be deserving of trying to claim it.) ]
Oh, Angeal. [A laugh entirely void of mirth. It's not quite mocking. All of this is quite a lot to digest, especially when you were just moments from relinquishing your life under the assumption that it would alleviate some of kind of burden. Angeal is being forced to look upon a reality that extends far beyond anything he ever thought possible. Anyone would be confused, buckling under such staggering weight. It's a credit to Angeal that he's meeting this head-on at all. Still--] Were it only so simple. The workings of Fate are far more elusive.
Every attempt I have made to not only stray from this course, but to allow other versions of myself to do the same, has seen Fate move to guide me back.
Perhaps I will never know peace. ...Perhaps I was only ever meant to know destruction.
[And maybe - at the very core of all of this - that's why Sephiroth keeps trying to save Angeal even when it will change nothing for his own reality. If he could see a world where his hands are capable of something other than bloodshed, a world where the lives entangled with his aren't damned only to suffering, then... maybe that will be enough.
--But this is circling around to a place Sephiroth is unwilling to linger in, even with Angeal.]
Enough. [In an instant, Sephiroth's cold veneer washes back over him; he brushes past Angeal without sparing another glance.] If there is nothing else here you wish to see, let us return.
[Once more, and with the same amount of effortlessness as before, he cuts a swath through the air, reopening the portal back to Modeoheim. He hesitates only long enough for Angeal to make the final decision.]
[ That was not quite what Angeal meant, but the fact that Sephiroth was being... guided along a course only makes something steady in his gut. He doesn't know what, or why, and perhaps he'll figure it out after some time to think. Not just now.
For a moment, he bows his head, raising the buster sword, blade up, to press his forehead against the flat of it.
Then he lowers it again, stepping closer to the opening.
Hesitates. ]
Oh, fuck it all.
[ A rare, very rare expletive, from him.
As he steps by Sephiroth, he leans to press the lightest kiss to his cheek, before stepping back to the solid world once again. ]
That. Is my promise. That I won't give up again. For both of you.
[ Only then does he turn to look at Sephiroth. Not even this cold can diminish that ethereal beauty of his, and Angeal squares his shoulders, hands behind his back into a rest of respect, but eyes soft, and warm. ]
[It's rare to see Sephiroth genuinely caught off guard, but Angeal manages to do it with one small kiss to his cheek. His eyes widen a little, a barely audible breath of surprise, the subtle way his body tenses-- he doesn't quite know what to do with himself in that moment.
Affection is such a foreign thing to him anymore.
But he doesn't pull away from it. He merely watches Angeal instead-- watches until the other man turns and makes his promise.
...What a stubborn, stubborn man. But it's nice to see after all of that despair. Sephiroth hums a soft laugh.]
Should you falter, I'll be watching.
[To anyone else, that might sound like a threat. But this, too, is a promise. Sephiroth carved a pathway to this world, and in doing so, he can now easily find his way back. For a time at least, he doesn't intend to stray far. If anything goes wrong, he'll do what he can. If Angeal calls for him, he will answer-- like some twisted form of guardian angel.
After all... he has little to go back to. He may as well make sure this world stays its new course. And... in some small way, maybe it'll soothe some of the pain to see Angeal seizing another shot at life. To see him thrive after clawing his way up from the depths of despair.]
...Go. Live.
[For now, Sephiroth has lingered enough, and Angeal... has a lot to do. He closes the portal between them, and it feels bittersweet. It won't be the last time they see each other, but... it does make his foolish heart yearn for his Angeal once more.
An unattainable dream is still a dream, indeed...]
[Sephiroth isn't eager to return to the Edge of Creation, to its deafening silence and vast loneliness, but... there's little point in lingering in this place between places. He has no desire to look upon any more memories; his heart feels ragged enough. Frankly, he's not sure what he expected to feel when he finally reached Angeal. After all this time, he thought he'd walled his heart away from all of that by now, but...
Maybe that was naive. Maybe no amount of ice or distance would have ever prepared him for seeing the man who had once been his entire world again. Angeal - with his gentle hands and kind eyes - has always effortlessly pierced through every shield Sephiroth has ever put up around his heart.
So deeply caught up in this train of thought, Sephiroth almost doesn't register the feather. But once he does, it becomes all he can see-- the white plume is radiant against the surrounding gloom. He slows to a stop just in front of it, hesitating.
It's not the first time he's... seen things, especially in isolation. Whether it's his mind desperately scrambling to cling to some semblance of comfort, or Jenova playing twisted mindgames as she is wont to do, Sephiroth doesn't claim to know. Part of him insists on ignoring it, to keep walking, but... in spite of himself, he crouches down... reaches slowly.
And to his surprise, the feather doesn't vanish under his touch.
Has his mind finally crumbled? Is he so broken that he's conjuring up the sensation of a delicate feather in his palm now?
Finally. I thought the place felt a tiny bit like you. Too empty to have much to go on on, but it was more than nothing.
[ In a place where there may not even be walls to lean against, Angeal somehow is still doing so.
After a moment, he raises his head to look sideways at Sephiroth. Lifts an eyebrow, and despite the trace of levity to his words, his eyes are dark and deep, worried and apologetic. ]
[ Angeal's own lips twitch slightly at the sound of that soft laughter, and he nods.
They are SOLDIER 1st class. They have all gotten well-used to surveillance at all time. Even without the layers to the whole experience, Angeal wouldn't have felt threatened by those words. But it is... extremely precious to him, in ways that Sephiroth probably knows, to know that, should he falter, he won't fall down alone.
Even if, with all the burdens that this Sephiroth is carrying, Angeal will try not to add himself... again. It is a promise that means much and more to him.
He watches Sephiroth until the opening closes, then he bows his head and gives a salute with the Buster Sword in his direction.
Only then does he turn to follow in the puppy's steps.
Once he is outside, he holds up his hand... not holding the sword. ]
It's fine, Zack.
[ ... at which he promptly gets golmmed by the youth, and has to blink slightly as he's alternately embraced and shaken. ]
Don't ever do something like this again, you hear me? Ever!
[ And on he rambles for a bit, before Angeal finally pushes him away, a scowl in the direction of the other person present. ]
Wait outside.
Angeal!
Go.
[ Zack gives a growl, but then turns and storms off, and Angeal turns slowly towards Hollander. ]
Oh, no, you don't. If I'm gone, there won't be anyone left to help Genesis!
You can't help Genesis, anyway. What you did to him, to us, is beyond your comprehension. The evil you have unleashed.
Angeal! You can't kill me! I'm family!"
My mother understood, in the end. There are things you don't do to family. Goodbye. Doctor Hollander.
[ There is no salute this time. The Buster Sword descends swiftly and leaves no chance of survival.
Then Angeal's shoulders hunch, his stomach churning. There are things that do not get easy even after years of warfare. But his determination doesn't waver... though, for a moment, he just stands there, the enormous emotional whiplash finally catching up to him.
He can't be weak anymore. Way too much depends on him not wavering.
Eventually, he squares his shoulders and walks out. Arm around Zack's waist, he takes off. Once Zack's complaints run out, he lets some distance pass, before he chimes up again, carefully. ]
Angeal?
Yes?
What the hell happened?
[ Ah. The difficult question... but the only one that really matters. Angeal sighs. ]
It seems that Shinra... and especially the science department, went and meddled with something they really shouldn't have. Far, far more powerful than they could have imagined. Genesis, I... and Sephiroth are the products of that meddling - and both vulnerable to its influence and desired by it. If I... had followed through on what I started, Sephiroth would have succumbed, and the suffering would be beyond what any of us could have reconned. The Sephiroth who we saw back there had. He is powerful, enough that he can cross the streams of time. And he did, because I might be able to make a difference.
So, what? You're not set on dying anymore?
More or less. I thought the star'd be better off without me-- [ he can feel the full body flinch that Zack gives, and remembers what Sephiroth showed him of the youth's grief, ] --but it seems removing myself would actually be worse. I still must find a way to not squander it, of course.
You're an idiot, you know that?
... and a coward besides, apparently.
[ That gets him a kick in the shin, and he can't help a small grin. The banter flows more easily, after that. Zack doesn't ask him where they are going, but that might be just the relief.
They are almost approaching Midgar when it's Angeal's turn to break the silence. ]
Zack. In one way... Genesis was not wrong. It turns out that Shinra is the enemy. I need... more information about that. But it may be that I will deflect for real, and Sephiroth also. If I can, I'll try to keep you up to date, but if it happens, it will be because of facts. If it comes to that, I won't fight with you.
[ He can't make Zack turn traitor, too. But he won't go against him if they end up on different sides. ]
You're such - what will you even do, Angeal?
That depends on what we find. That's why I'll try to keep you up to date.
Right. Well, unless that 'Shinra is the enemy' turns out to be complete hogwash, I'd probably be helping.
Thanks, Zack.
[ It's a relief, to hear that. It'll still make a difference, how accurate future Sephiroth's claim was, but...
He drops off Zack near the entrance of the headquarters. And finds his own way to Sephiroth's corner of it.
[Something about the latest lead on Genesis and Hollander had left a sinking feeling in Sephiroth's gut. Maybe it was the fact that Angeal asked for Zack specifically on that mission and... not him. Before they left, he'd pulled Zack aside and asked him to stay in touch-- keep him updated. He had been for a while, but... it's been radio silent for quite some time. Sephiroth makes a concerted effort not to let his thoughts needlessly run away from him, but he can't help the worry roiling endlessly within him.
He's been in his office, busying himself with paperwork and sparing his phone periodic glances when the knock at his door comes.
Angeal's voice soon follows, and Sephiroth's relief is profound, bleeding the tension out of his shoulders within seconds. So profound, in fact, that he bypasses calling him in entirely to go meet him at the door instead. The moment he opens it, he's giving Angeal a once over, looking for injuries and any sign of something amiss. Only once he's satisfied with his brief inspection do his eyes flick back up to meet Angeal's.]
Come in. [He steps aside, giving the other man space to slip into the office.] ...Are you and Zack alright? We lost contact. I was beginning to worry.
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A part of him thinks he should be afraid of that look in Sephiroth's eyes. It's fury and it's cold and it's crazed and it is, right now, very focused on Angeal. But he doesn't feel fear. Only shame, yes. Guilt. Grief, for whatever did happen to Sephiroth. Concern. For Sephiroth, that is, not himself.
He had meant to never leave this space, after all.
His shoulders do not square up, but he doesn't back away, either. ]
Funny. [ There is not even a trace of mirth to him. ] I thought I was giving you the luxury of running away from me. From a real, [ he motions towards one of the copies that Masamune cut down, ] monster.
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[Gradually, his reverent gaze sinks back down, finding its way back to Angeal.]
...But I can show you.
[There's a place - a place in between places, rather - that interconnects worlds. It's there that he intends to take Angeal if he'll follow. And... it's there that he's seen many things. Glimpses of things that were and things that are. It's where he's gone to catch glimpses of Angeal. It's why he even started all of this in the first place. A piece of the man he loved still clings to his heart, reminding him of who he was and what could have been. Being here now, standing so close to Angeal at last, brings memories to the surface that he long thought lost to the Lifestream. He remembers quiet nights spent in each others' arms-- sometimes cooking a meal, sometimes reading together on the couch. He remembers the way Angeal would lean into his touches, and it makes his fingers itch, yearning to touch.
In his reverie, Sephiroth has drifted ever closer, his free hand eventually coming up to cage Angeal's jaw in his fingers. He seldom hesitates to take what he wants anymore, but... even amidst the chaos churning inside of him, he knows that this isn't his Angeal... He has no right to have him.
But it doesn't stop the hungry and longing way he beholds the other man, his eyes lingering a little too long on Angeal's lips.]
Yes. Let me show you what future awaits... if you continue down this fool's path.
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But he also doesn't think that Sephiroth is here to kill him. A small part of him thinks, pity. Much more of him is grateful - there is a reason he asked this of Zack, not Sephiroth.
And the rest of him can't help, even now, even as he is, the sudden tide of desire that rises as the man draws near, touches him, practically devours him with those eyes. He'd thought he had suppressed those feelings, bid them farewell when he no longer could stay with Shinra, when he no longer could believe himself human, and, yet...
(If Sephiroth is not a human, either, as the wing evidences... Then, as they match...)
He gives these thoughts a firm shake. Breathes out, long and as steady as he can make it. ]
Is there a better one, then? One that will erase more suffering?
[ He meets Sephiroth's gaze, eyes still mostly hopeless, but unflinching. ]
Show me.
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That... will depend on you, Angeal.
[He releases Angeal's jaw from his grasp none too gently and turns away from him. There's nothing ceremonial about what happens next. Sephiroth adjusts his grip on Masamune once more, this time cutting a simple swath through the air itself. It tears the very fabric of reality in two, opening wide a billowing black portal. So casual, so effortless-- as if anyone could do it with enough force and a sharpened blade. An interesting new trick, isn't it?
He doesn't turn back, issuing only a simple command:] Come... and do not dare avert your eyes.
[And then Sephiroth is sauntering into that portal.
Should Angeal meet him on the other side, he'll be meet with a nigh blinding flash of light. He'll feel as if he's suddenly floating. If he thinks to try, he'll find he's able to control his trajectory, especially with that wing of his. Around them are what appear to be hundreds of scenes playing out concurrently. It's a little overwhelming perhaps-- but luckily, Sephiroth knows where to draw Angeal's attention. He's looked at these memories many, many times...
Sephiroth will let him wander a bit if he so chooses, to let his curiosity guide him, but... there's a deliberate trail that he'll be leading Angeal on. First, it's the immediate aftermath of Angeal's death. Zack, sobbing in Aerith's church in the slums. His anger and helplessness-- his desperate attempts to honor Angeal, the sword, the memories. Sephiroth, drowning in despair in his dead lover's apartment and sitting amongst an assortment of belongings. He takes with him a shirt and a couple of plants-- it's all he can manage. Eventually, the trail fizzles-- cuts in and out. And then... it will evolve to his memories of Nibelheim. Of the reactor, of Genesis declaring him a monster, of his own despair, and soon after... the flames and his brutal massacre of the innocents living there.
He's not pulling any punches with this. Oh, no... If Angeal is so concerned with suffering, he'll show him every gory detail of the pain his absence caused.]
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And then Sephiroth rends open the fabric of reality, and there is enough in Angeal that resonates with the power that he uses to make a shiver run through him, eyes open wide. ]
What...
[ He swallows down the rest of the question. There is a niggling feeling in his gut that the Sephiroth he knows is not the Sephiroth here. Then he finds himself in that in-between space, and needs a few moments to orient himself.
And he does.
Zack's reaction makes his shoulders slump, his wing drags a little, but he is also proud of the boy, regret and guilt eating at him even stronger.
Then he pauses, pure shock on his face.
Sephiroth... so broken. That doesn't make sense. And yet, it does. It does. What he never dared to allow himself to dream, and he is looking at the rawness of its reality. At least... ]
Is this... you?
[ He doesn't... know. He doesn't know if this is Sephiroth from the future, or somehow a different one. He seems to expect Angeal to expect this, which he... couldn't have. He still lingers, his heart aching in a way that he didn't think he would know.
Then it all fades, and Angeal can't take a breath.
Genesis... Sephiroth.
And then all the slaughter, and, even in this place, Angeal stumbles, his legs giving out. Thoughts swirling, he tries to take in air in his lungs, but he can't. He can't, not with so much pain washing over him. His own seems so... small.
Cowardly, Sephiroth called him. He is beginning to see, even while he can't really understand... or doesn't allow himself to understand how he would make a difference. ]
Is... this you?
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It seems this Angeal never quite made it that far with his Sephiroth.
He wonders - idly - if it would have hurt him less this way-- to lose Angeal in blissful ignorance and not be haunted by the memory of his lips when they kissed, of the way Angeal looked at him like he was his world when he thought Sephiroth couldn't see, of the sweet mornings they spent together after making love.
Is this you? Angeal asks once, stunned, and Sephiroth doesn't answer. He turns instead-- lets a cascade of silver hair obscure his face.
He doesn't need to see Angeal's face to know he's in anguish over the trainwreck of memories he witnesses next. It's not shame that keeps Sephiroth from looking Angeal in the eye. Not really. He'd wanted nothing more than to burn his world to the ground-- to punish a planet full of people who had done nothing but objectify and weaponize him. Complicit in Shinra's putrid lies. And he did. He... continues to do so.
No... it's not shame at all. He did the only thing he could do in those moments. Rather, it's... Angeal himself. All it would take is one look of utter heartbreak to stay Sephiroth's hand from further chaos, and he still has too much fury to give while his Angeal remains lost to him. He holds no illusions that doing any of this will unbury his beloved from the Lifestream and back into his arms-- he'd given up on that fanciful hope a long time ago. None of this really even benefits him at all-- except to satiate the fragments of his old self that are still left, yearning to make a difference. If not for him, then at least other timelines. For the other versions of himself that are not yet damned to an existence of misery and hate.
For Angeal-- who still has so much to offer to every world he's in.
Is this you? Angeal asks again, his voice sounding far more harrowed this time.]
...It is. [A beat.] Have you seen enough?
[Because there's certainly more if Angeal insists on stubbornly clinging to the idea that his existence is a burden.]
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Instead, it is compassion for the pain he sees lashing out that he feels. Worry. Desire to help.
After a moment, he thinks he understands.
Sephiroth, here, isn't punishing him. He is in pain still, and is asking for... Help? Understanding? Something that his Angeal wasn't there to give him. So he pulls himself together. He cannot turn away. He must not let him down again.
Voice quiet, he manages to turn and look at the radiant figure with the black wing. ]
Have you shown me enough? That I'll know what to do?
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...Does Angeal need to know those stakes? Or will this be enough?
One look at Angeal, and anyone can see he's breaking more than he already was. All of this is weight heavy on his shoulders, as it should be, but Sephiroth isn't sure how much he really understands yet.]
Tell me. What is it you see, Angeal? [He pauses, turning slowly back to the shimmering walls of memories. He reaches a gloved hand out, and it passes through the memory before him, distorting it until it turns into something else. A glimpse of a happier time-- Sephiroth and Angeal standing in the kitchen - a cooking lesson - and laughing over a hardened glob of pasta noodles together. 'You're supposed to keep stirring the noodles, Seph,' comes Angeal's voice as he wraps his arms around Sephiroth's waist from behind, chuckling into his shoulder. And Sephiroth... he looks so happy in this moment-- allowed the space to be imperfect and human with the man he loves, allowed the space to be a normal person rather than a weapon, a tool.]
...I see a man who needed you. [A beat.] A man who still does. One you can save if you abandon this thought that you contribute nothing but suffering to the world around you.
[Unable to bear looking upon what he once had any longer, Sephiroth turns away from the memory, looking outward to other things instead.]
Shinra is the enemy. Not you.
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But he doesn't know to ask for it.
What Sephiroth shows him truly punches the air from his lungs. It's simple and it's messy and it's anything he has never dared to dream ... to be able to give to Sephiroth. Because, beyond hero, or legend, or SOLDIER, Sephiroth has ever been a person, a man, and people need each other. And Sephiroth, in all the years they have known each other, has not had all that many close to him.
Or any at all, beyond the two of them... and Genesis was too eager to try to replace him, sometimes.
A man who needed you. A man who still does.
Angeal can't bring himself to wrap an arm around Sephiroth as the memory showed him, but he does reach and hold on to Sephiroth's shoulder, in the junction where the shoulder pad attaches to the leather coat, and squeezes slightly. Then drops his arm, looking down at his hands. ]
Did you know... that when Genesis first dropped on me... the first parts of what I learned about him and me... and, I suppose, in a different way you, he also told me that Shinra is the enemy. He wanted me to choose a side, thinking I would choose his.
But I had sworn my loyalty to them. And, more... you were still with them. You are still with them, in my 'now.' [ And Zack, too. Protecting Zack from Genesis was no small part of the reason why he did not, could not, choose his old friend. Not the only part, however. ] To go up against them would mean going up against you.
Genesis asked if I was sure if I could live on that side. Their side. [ His fist clenches, the other hand holding on harder onto the handle of the Buster Sword. They both know that Genesis was not wrong, expressing that doubt.
He looks up, at Sephiroth. ]
If I am there, what will it take for you to turn on them, if they are the enemy?
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Some of Sephiroth's memories of that time are completely gone-- others are muddied at best. He knows he'd felt betrayed, but... a lot of those feelings stemmed from being left in the dark. Had either one of them simply asked him, they may have found him surprisingly receptive. They had transcended his loyalties to Shinra, and the more truths he uncovered, the closer he'd come to abandoning Shinra himself.]
...Honesty is a good place to start. Obscuring the truth from him -- [Not "me". He's decidedly separating himself from these other incarnations.] -- will only lead to isolation and resentment. However...
[A breath. Sephiroth closes his eyes. He can feel the inside of his skull start to itch, to scratch. Her voice is like rats gnawing at his sense of self.]
You should know... that there is another player in this game who will do everything in her power to stop you, to divert your efforts. One who will stop at nothing to subjugate him to her will-- to be her instrument of destruction. And it will not stop at him.
Any who bear her cells are in danger. [There's a flash of something dangerous in Sephiroth's eye just then-- the way he fixes his gaze upon Angeal with an unsettling pointedness.] That... includes you.
[As for how successful she'll be, Sephiroth can't say for certain. Cloud crumbled easily underneath him and Jenova both, but he was completely fragmented and hollow to begin with. Zack, however, seemed impervious to it. But then-- Angeal and Genesis are like him; they had been directly integrated with her cells before they were ever born. Would that grant them a semblance of control? Or would it make them more susceptible to it?]
Will you endure?
[Sephiroth -- in his cruelty, his pursuit of knowledge, his desire to know if this will be another fool's errand and their efforts will amount to nothing -- elects to find out.]
Let's see.
[He'll reach out for the Jenova cells within Angeal, and it won't be gentle or gradual at all, the way he attempts to assert his influence. If it works in any measure, Angeal will be met with a splitting headache and pain so sharp that even his bones will ache.
But... he hopes he's wrong-- hopes Angeal is stronger than that.]
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To come save him.
He still doesn't dare, or find himself deserving of being allowed to linger. With this Sephiroth or ... his. And the question whether his would be feeling the same isn't for now, but he is aware of it.
He nods, slowly. With more knowledge, he can see how and why honesty would matter. He can fully empathize with it, too. If he had known longer, if he had had a chance to talk things with his mother, perhaps he would have found some semblance of a balance, rather than what he had faced Zack here to ask the puppy to do.
Then Sephiroth continues talking, and Angeal frowns in confusion - until the words add up with what Hollander has said, but by that point
The pain has begun.
He stumbles down, under the intensity, the suddenness of it. The snow-white wing stiffens, the feathers starting to shimmer towards a more metallic, tainted hue. ]
Jenova... [ A pained gasp. But it seems to make the pain worse, nearer somehow, so he clamps his mouth shut, gritting his teeth.
As a First, he has had his share of pain. His body can mend, but that does not mean it doesn't get hurt or feel that hurt. He knows how to manage pain, in some ways. But this, this seems to be in his entire body, and he can't immediately find a way to push it away, to push it back.
Even so, endure he does. Time seems to slow down to a crawl of agony, every breath labored. But Jenova, nor even Sephiroth, has anything to offer him to tip his sanity over the edge. Not even death, not anymore.
And there is... something else.
Angeal's emotions are strong, but very little of them is rage. Even less a desire to be the apex of existence, to conquer, to subjugate, to destroy. There is little in Angeal that resonates with her directives, little that years to surrender to the control that is being wrested from him.
Blood rolls down from one nostril, but he finally manages a tiny motion. Raises his head, if only a little. A burst of feathers explodes out from his wing, and it is pure white once more. The pain does not abate, and he doesn't ask for it. But he tries to recalibrate himself to this, to keep functioning. ]
Is this... what he would have to endure... every moment of every day? Because everyone has a breaking point.
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He endures. He resists.
And then that wing of his starts to quake until it's spanning out in a glorious lash, reclaiming its resplendent white from Jenova's corrupting touch.
Sephiroth's eyes widen first, his lips parting faintly-- a rare show of surprise. He's... proud, first and foremost. Even if those words will never leave his lips, it's the most profound of all feelings blooming in his chest in this moment. But he can't help the vibrant ache that comes with it, too. What a beautiful and stark reminder this is-- one of many reasons Sephiroth had fallen in love with this man. It wasn't just his compassion, but his strength and resolution as well. Angeal's never felt the need to show off, to be more or less than what he is.
And then... a stab of envy, of anger bites at his heart. But none of it is directed at Angeal, nor even at Jenova. These venomous feelings reach only for himself-- for this blissfully ignorant version of himself whose Angeal is willing to fight for. Why should you get to have this while I toil away in loneliness? Why should you be allowed to behold this splendor while I am left wanting?
But just as quickly as those feelings begin to rise does he pull away from them. He's always known what the stakes were, and that he would not be on the receiving end of any of it.
--He's seen enough.
Just like that, Angeal is relinquished from that cellular death grip. Sephiroth averts his eyes for a while, letting them drift above him to another cluster of memories. He doesn't wish to look at Angeal right now. Not until he's wrestled his foolish heart back under control.]
Perhaps. ...There are ways to shield oneself against her.
Jenova -- [Not Mother. No-- this Sephiroth has managed to find some measure of freedom from that.] -- seeks to replace one's sense of self with her own, puppeteering those who are lost with ease. You need only show him who he is, offer him an anchor with which to steady himself, or he will anchor himself with rage in its stead.
...Do you understand?
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Slowly, he steadies himself, trying to catch his breath. (Perhaps... he did err a little on the side of believing himself less than he is. That realization will have to come later.) ]
I understand.
[ He is not certain he believes that will be enough, but... Sephiroth is the one who know what it all has been for him. Staggering as it is to comprehend, let alone believe, Angeal will have to trust him. And if it's not enough...
It will be up to him to find out what is.
He tries to properly calm his breathing. Center himself. ]
Sephiroth.
[ He knows he has other things he has to think about, to do, but... ]
What will happen to you?
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--His time mingling with all of these memories eventually did give him the real truth, and it occurs to him now that he has a chance to divulge it to Angeal... who - when he deems it necessary - can then divulge it to his Sephiroth.
What will happen to you? Angeal asks, momentarily derailing that train of thought, and Sephiroth can't help the half-scoff, half-laugh that presses past his lips. He still doesn't let his eyes drift back down, to make eye contact with Angeal. His gaze continues to idly trace the memories above; they're nothing of note, just something to keep himself distracted from the pitiful ache in his chest.]
Does it matter?
['I am not your Sephiroth,' is what he nearly says, as if he doesn't know Angeal intimately enough that such a thing would ever stop him from caring. What's more, any answer he could give will probably be one Angeal won't like. The Lifestream continues to reject him, and so he will continue to exist in isolation.]
You have a second chance. Don't squander it.
[His mind wanders back to his mother, and he thinks he sees a glimpse of her somewhere in the memories above. A nigh inaudible breath pushes past his lips-- and he decides simply to say it.]
However... I must ask something else of you. [A beat.] Before he defects, there is a name in the Shinra database he should search for. He will have the clearance to do so.
...Lucrecia Crescent.
[He won't like half of the revelations that come with it, this other Sephiroth, but... he'll know he's human. And... he'll have Angeal.]
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You walked across time and space, and who knows what, to shake me out of my despair. You can't believe that you returning to your despair wouldn't matter to me. Even if it's rage and hatred... even if I won't like it. I can listen.
[ It can be a nightmare that he won't be able to do anything about. But Sephiroth would be trapped in that nightmare. If he has understood things correctly... Sephiroth has not had anyone to talk about it. For however long it has been, he has been trapped with what Jenova has been asking of him and his own pain, alone. If he can alleviate that for a moment...
It will not change anything. But it will be more than nothing.
He breathes out. ]
Lucrecia Crescent. I will remember her name.
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He wonders... if they had a chance to speak again, would his Angeal still speak to him this way? If he's been watching over things from the Lifestream, he'll have seen every wretched, hateful thing Sephiroth has done. Surely he would be disgusted, honorable as he is. So many lives have been lost by Sephiroth's hand alone, and many more by the domino effect of his actions. Cloud - by far - had suffered the most, but he was also the one to free him from Jenova's shackles, to help him reclaim some of his memories. It's because of Cloud that he's able to be here at all, speaking to Angeal like this-- like a man rather than a cryptic monster with a sinister agenda. They'd shared some kind of kinship by the end-- nothing that could ever fill the respective voids in their hearts. They'd done too much damage to each other, but... the least he could do was grant Cloud peace after that, to allow him to be with his loved ones once more.
It meant leaving Sephiroth to his loneliness again, but... it's what he deserves, really. Even as it rankles him with rage and hatred.
He doesn't deserve... this. Angeal's empathy, his kind eyes, an ear and shoulder free of judgment. For a moment, he's even tempted to turn him away-- to cut the floor underneath him and return him to his timeline without a word. His fingers even tighten around Masamune, the leather of his gloves creaking with tension.
...But something stays his hand. For a moment, he could almost swear he feels fingertips brushing against his knuckles, the back of his hand. A squeeze. 'Stop.' But of course... when Sephiroth spares a glance, there is nothing. If he hadn't already been riddled with madness once, he'd say he's losing his mind. An exasperated breath pushes from his nose, his lips pressing into a thin line... but his grip on Masamune loosens.]
Stubborn fool. [It somehow sounds as fond as it does annoyed.] As you wish.
...There is nothing for me to return to. Merely emptiness. I am forbidden to join with the Lifestream, and so I wait only for the world to begin anew. Changing fate for others has done little to change mine.
A fitting penance, I suppose.
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The answer is somehow... worse than he thought, though he did not know what to expect. His mouth firms into a thin line, but he doesn't flinch, or turn away.
Although, after a moment, he frowns. ]
Even if it may be... it's not a sound long-term solution. If solitude and despair and rage are what caused you to succumb and wreak destruction, leaving you alone and hopelessness to your unsated rage... will that not lead to the same disaster?
[ He is not trying to give hope. But he is certainly puzzled. It is possible that nothing else can be done, but leaving Sephiroth like that? With his powers to traverse realities at the very least still intact? ]
Perhaps there will be something else, eventually.
[ Something more, perhaps. Who is he to know? Sciense sometimes moves too fast for him, though he grasps principles; the way of the Star?
But he knows enough tactics and strategy to know that's just a ticking bomb. And that's even less what he wants, for his friend. (For the man he loves. The thought floats in his mind, and, for once, he doesn't push it back down. If he can do this... if he can spare his Sephiroth this fate. Perhaps he will be deserving of trying to claim it.) ]
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Every attempt I have made to not only stray from this course, but to allow other versions of myself to do the same, has seen Fate move to guide me back.
Perhaps I will never know peace. ...Perhaps I was only ever meant to know destruction.
[And maybe - at the very core of all of this - that's why Sephiroth keeps trying to save Angeal even when it will change nothing for his own reality. If he could see a world where his hands are capable of something other than bloodshed, a world where the lives entangled with his aren't damned only to suffering, then... maybe that will be enough.
--But this is circling around to a place Sephiroth is unwilling to linger in, even with Angeal.]
Enough. [In an instant, Sephiroth's cold veneer washes back over him; he brushes past Angeal without sparing another glance.] If there is nothing else here you wish to see, let us return.
[Once more, and with the same amount of effortlessness as before, he cuts a swath through the air, reopening the portal back to Modeoheim. He hesitates only long enough for Angeal to make the final decision.]
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For a moment, he bows his head, raising the buster sword, blade up, to press his forehead against the flat of it.
Then he lowers it again, stepping closer to the opening.
Hesitates. ]
Oh, fuck it all.
[ A rare, very rare expletive, from him.
As he steps by Sephiroth, he leans to press the lightest kiss to his cheek, before stepping back to the solid world once again. ]
That. Is my promise. That I won't give up again. For both of you.
[ Only then does he turn to look at Sephiroth. Not even this cold can diminish that ethereal beauty of his, and Angeal squares his shoulders, hands behind his back into a rest of respect, but eyes soft, and warm. ]
Unattainable dreams are still dreams.
[ And you are allowed to dream, my friend. ]
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Affection is such a foreign thing to him anymore.
But he doesn't pull away from it. He merely watches Angeal instead-- watches until the other man turns and makes his promise.
...What a stubborn, stubborn man. But it's nice to see after all of that despair. Sephiroth hums a soft laugh.]
Should you falter, I'll be watching.
[To anyone else, that might sound like a threat. But this, too, is a promise. Sephiroth carved a pathway to this world, and in doing so, he can now easily find his way back. For a time at least, he doesn't intend to stray far. If anything goes wrong, he'll do what he can. If Angeal calls for him, he will answer-- like some twisted form of guardian angel.
After all... he has little to go back to. He may as well make sure this world stays its new course. And... in some small way, maybe it'll soothe some of the pain to see Angeal seizing another shot at life. To see him thrive after clawing his way up from the depths of despair.]
...Go. Live.
[For now, Sephiroth has lingered enough, and Angeal... has a lot to do. He closes the portal between them, and it feels bittersweet. It won't be the last time they see each other, but... it does make his foolish heart yearn for his Angeal once more.
An unattainable dream is still a dream, indeed...]
the end of the line
Somewhen...
As Sephiroth's wandering steps turn a corner...
There is a white feather on his path. ]
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Maybe that was naive. Maybe no amount of ice or distance would have ever prepared him for seeing the man who had once been his entire world again. Angeal - with his gentle hands and kind eyes - has always effortlessly pierced through every shield Sephiroth has ever put up around his heart.
So deeply caught up in this train of thought, Sephiroth almost doesn't register the feather. But once he does, it becomes all he can see-- the white plume is radiant against the surrounding gloom. He slows to a stop just in front of it, hesitating.
It's not the first time he's... seen things, especially in isolation. Whether it's his mind desperately scrambling to cling to some semblance of comfort, or Jenova playing twisted mindgames as she is wont to do, Sephiroth doesn't claim to know. Part of him insists on ignoring it, to keep walking, but... in spite of himself, he crouches down... reaches slowly.
And to his surprise, the feather doesn't vanish under his touch.
Has his mind finally crumbled? Is he so broken that he's conjuring up the sensation of a delicate feather in his palm now?
--How pitiful.]
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And then another.
And then. ]
Finally. I thought the place felt a tiny bit like you. Too empty to have much to go on on, but it was more than nothing.
[ In a place where there may not even be walls to lean against, Angeal somehow is still doing so.
After a moment, he raises his head to look sideways at Sephiroth. Lifts an eyebrow, and despite the trace of levity to his words, his eyes are dark and deep, worried and apologetic. ]
Welcome home?
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the innocents
They are SOLDIER 1st class. They have all gotten well-used to surveillance at all time. Even without the layers to the whole experience, Angeal wouldn't have felt threatened by those words. But it is... extremely precious to him, in ways that Sephiroth probably knows, to know that, should he falter, he won't fall down alone.
Even if, with all the burdens that this Sephiroth is carrying, Angeal will try not to add himself... again. It is a promise that means much and more to him.
He watches Sephiroth until the opening closes, then he bows his head and gives a salute with the Buster Sword in his direction.
Only then does he turn to follow in the puppy's steps.
Once he is outside, he holds up his hand... not holding the sword. ]
It's fine, Zack.
[ ... at which he promptly gets golmmed by the youth, and has to blink slightly as he's alternately embraced and shaken. ]
Don't ever do something like this again, you hear me? Ever!
[ And on he rambles for a bit, before Angeal finally pushes him away, a scowl in the direction of the other person present. ]
Wait outside.
Angeal!
Go.
[ Zack gives a growl, but then turns and storms off, and Angeal turns slowly towards Hollander. ]
Oh, no, you don't. If I'm gone, there won't be anyone left to help Genesis!
You can't help Genesis, anyway. What you did to him, to us, is beyond your comprehension. The evil you have unleashed.
Angeal! You can't kill me! I'm family!"
My mother understood, in the end. There are things you don't do to family. Goodbye. Doctor Hollander.
[ There is no salute this time. The Buster Sword descends swiftly and leaves no chance of survival.
Then Angeal's shoulders hunch, his stomach churning. There are things that do not get easy even after years of warfare. But his determination doesn't waver... though, for a moment, he just stands there, the enormous emotional whiplash finally catching up to him.
He can't be weak anymore. Way too much depends on him not wavering.
Eventually, he squares his shoulders and walks out. Arm around Zack's waist, he takes off. Once Zack's complaints run out, he lets some distance pass, before he chimes up again, carefully. ]
Angeal?
Yes?
What the hell happened?
[ Ah. The difficult question... but the only one that really matters. Angeal sighs. ]
It seems that Shinra... and especially the science department, went and meddled with something they really shouldn't have. Far, far more powerful than they could have imagined. Genesis, I... and Sephiroth are the products of that meddling - and both vulnerable to its influence and desired by it. If I... had followed through on what I started, Sephiroth would have succumbed, and the suffering would be beyond what any of us could have reconned. The Sephiroth who we saw back there had. He is powerful, enough that he can cross the streams of time. And he did, because I might be able to make a difference.
So, what? You're not set on dying anymore?
More or less. I thought the star'd be better off without me-- [ he can feel the full body flinch that Zack gives, and remembers what Sephiroth showed him of the youth's grief, ] --but it seems removing myself would actually be worse. I still must find a way to not squander it, of course.
You're an idiot, you know that?
... and a coward besides, apparently.
[ That gets him a kick in the shin, and he can't help a small grin. The banter flows more easily, after that. Zack doesn't ask him where they are going, but that might be just the relief.
They are almost approaching Midgar when it's Angeal's turn to break the silence. ]
Zack. In one way... Genesis was not wrong. It turns out that Shinra is the enemy. I need... more information about that. But it may be that I will deflect for real, and Sephiroth also. If I can, I'll try to keep you up to date, but if it happens, it will be because of facts. If it comes to that, I won't fight with you.
[ He can't make Zack turn traitor, too. But he won't go against him if they end up on different sides. ]
You're such - what will you even do, Angeal?
That depends on what we find. That's why I'll try to keep you up to date.
Right. Well, unless that 'Shinra is the enemy' turns out to be complete hogwash, I'd probably be helping.
Thanks, Zack.
[ It's a relief, to hear that. It'll still make a difference, how accurate future Sephiroth's claim was, but...
He drops off Zack near the entrance of the headquarters. And finds his own way to Sephiroth's corner of it.
A deep breath, and he knocks on the door. ]
Taking visitors?
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He's been in his office, busying himself with paperwork and sparing his phone periodic glances when the knock at his door comes.
Angeal's voice soon follows, and Sephiroth's relief is profound, bleeding the tension out of his shoulders within seconds. So profound, in fact, that he bypasses calling him in entirely to go meet him at the door instead. The moment he opens it, he's giving Angeal a once over, looking for injuries and any sign of something amiss. Only once he's satisfied with his brief inspection do his eyes flick back up to meet Angeal's.]
Come in. [He steps aside, giving the other man space to slip into the office.] ...Are you and Zack alright? We lost contact. I was beginning to worry.
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