Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"There's nothing wrong with you, sir."

Sephiroth frowned. "You're sure."

"Completely," the scientist said, glancing between her clipboard and the screen still monitoring Sephiroth's heart. "Pique physical condition, just as always."

"But the headaches..."

"Stress perhaps?" She shrugged. "Have you been sent out on a lot of missions lately?"

"The opposite. The most strenuous activity I've had outside of training has been paperwork."

"Some fresh air, then," she continued blithely, removing the cabled pads attached to various parts of Sephiroth's body. "Tension headaches are fairly common for those who are desk-bound, and you're probably just not used to it. A little exercise and you should feel fine."

Sephiroth wanted to argue but allowed himself to be shooed and slipped on his coat. But even as he made the long march from the science lab to the SOLDIER floor, he was far from soothed.

For weeks now, he'd been plagued with headaches, ones that fluctuated from a barely-there soreness to spikes of incredible pain. Coming to the lab had been a last resort, but after taking what felt like his body's weight in pain relief pills and casting enough Curagas to revive a dead behemoth, the last thing he expected was to be told, more or less, that it was all in his head.

I'm not crazy. It was the mantra he'd told himself for the better part of a week now, and some days it felt less true than others.

Even now, it flared again, of course when he was no longer attached to any monitoring equipment, and he heaved a great sigh of frustration. He'd have to go back to his room, draw the curtains, and hope a few hours of solitude and darkness would alleviate—

Like fire igniting in his head, Sephiroth felt an agony he'd never even approached before, sharp and severe enough to feel as if his skull were splitting.

He collapsed against the wall, one hand desperately trying to find purchase while the other flew to his head, mindlessly searching for the wound, for blood, something—

—a blade gleaming bright beneath the harsh lights, then the poking, the needles, the table was so cold and no one was picking them up and his brothers were crying, why are they hurting me?—

—Sephiroth gasped, confused and shocked by feelings that weren't his, by the visions and memories he'd never seen—

But, no. That wasn't right, was it? The lights, the table, the sterility—Sephiroth knew exactly where that room was, and he wasn't far from it.

Mouth set into a grim line, Sephiroth stalked purposely forward and into the nearest lab.

Hand already on the hilt of the Masamune, Sephiroth only thought to end the pain, to solve this confusing problem, to make it stop.

The last thing he expected, however, was to meet his own eyes.

The same unmistakable color of glowing green mako, eyes that set him apart even from other mako-enhanced SOLDIERs. Eyes that labeled him as something higher, something more, something set forever apart.

And yet, there they were. Meeting his in the face of a child.

There were three, to be exact. Nearly identical, all with deathly pale skin, silver hair, and Sephiroth's eyes.

All had been crying, silent tears pouring from their faces, but there was an almost preternatural stillness to them when Sephiroth entered the room, as if they were just as taken aback by his sudden appearance as he was by theirs.

After a moment of shocked staring, Sephiroth took the room in at large and saw the lab coat, the man holding the first babe's arm by the wrist. He saw the syringe, the needle just a breath away from piercing soft, vulnerable skin.

Masamune was flashing and only a hair away from the exposed neck of the scientist in less time than it took to blink.

"Remove yourself," Sephiroth ordered softly, voice like ice.

The scientist started to swallow, but his adam's apple touched the blade and he froze further, eyes wide and terrified.

Even still, he dared to protest, "B-But—I—I have orders, sir—"

Sephiroth twisted the blade, angled it to tip up the trembling chin.

"Ordered by whom?"

"By me."

Sephiroth didn't lower his blade, but his eyes cut to the corner of the room, where Professor Hojo was stepping away from the two orderlies cowering by the counter.

Hojo looked unimpressed—almost disdainful—of Sephiroth's prescence, like his interruption was somehow embarrassing or inconvenient.

"Is there any particular reason you've interrupted our work here, Sephiroth?"

"Your 'work' includes abusing children, now?"

Hojo's frown deepened. "These are not children, Sephiroth. Surely you can see that?"

Hojo approached, uncaring of the Masamune's proximity, and plucked at one child's arm.

"They are experiments." Hojo showed him the tiny wrist, the stark black numbers tattooed on white skin. A wave of nausea rolled through Sephiroth at the sight. "Failed, experiments, at that." He gave the little wrist a shake for emphasis, and the babe began crying.

The stab of a headache reared its head and Sephiroth simply reacted.

"Release him. Now."

Hojo did as he was told, his frown shifting into something more confused.

"Don't tell me you're getting attached?" Condescension dripped from his voice.

Sephiroth ignored him. "And what were your orders?" he asked instead, tilting the offending scientist's head up at an angle that had to feel uncomfortable.

Hojo shrugged. "To do what we always do with failed experiments: discard them."

The creaking of Sephiroth's glove was audible as he tightened his grip on the sword.

His voice reached sub-zero temperatures as he said, "You were going to euthanize babies—"

"This argument again?" Hojo shook his head, as if wearied by Sephiroth's ignorance. "A collection of cells, recovered genetic material—just things, Sephiroth, nothing more."

Just things, maybe, but they were things that were undeniably human, things that had Sephiroth's hair, his eyes, who were the only living creatures on this planet he might have something in common with, that might one day understand him.

The only things that kept him from being overwhelmingly, mercilessly alone.

"If they're really of such little consequence, release them to me."

Hojo's brow lifted, a rare expression of open amusement on his wrinkled features.

"Release them to you?" he echoed, chuckling. "You've been trained expertly in many things, Sephiroth, but child-rearing, I'm afraid, falls very short of your particular skill set."

"But they're not children," Sephiroth cut in brutally, eyes meeting Hojo's calmly, challengingly, "So there should be no issue."

Hojo simply looked at him for a moment—sizing him up, perhaps, or drawing out the moment before he denied Sephiroth even this.

The brittle silence was finally shattered when Hojo gave a superfluous wave of his hand.

"Very well, very well, take them; they're yours." He smirked openly, and as irritating a sight as that was, he'd at least conceded to Sephiroth's will. This could have turned out much differently.

Sephiroth finally tore his eyes away from Hojo to watch the scientist finally back away, his syringe of poison a safe distance away.

"Do they have clothes?"

Hojo beckoned over his shoulder and one of the orderlies snapped to attention, practically flying to a nearby cabinet to retrieve three small, white paper gowns.

It felt wrong to sheath the Masamune, but he needed both hands free.

It was a challenge, wrestling chubby, flailing limbs, but Sephiroth had faced the most legendary of warriors in the field and hunted creatures whose very sight could kill full-grown men; he would not be beaten by fussing.

He tried to ignore the staring of the small crowd, his skin crawling as the harsh lights, sterile atmosphere, and the misplaced sight of such pure innocence made an acute paranoia rise up within him; getting these children safe away from this room—from this floor—was paramount. Hojo had never been known to be fickle, but Sephiroth wasn't about to test that attribute now.

Without much thought to finesse, Sephiroth gathered the children, two in one arm, the one he'd nearly lost tucked in the other. They all stared up at him, unblinking, tear tracks stark on their faces.

"I'm afraid there is one condition to your new acquisition," Hojo cut in.

It was a physical effort not to tighten his hold.

"Oh?" he asked, ready to run. Whatever Hojo's plan, he'd made the mistake of letting Sephiroth get a hold of them; only death would pry them from his hands.

"It wouldn't do for you to neglect your duties simply because of a new hobby you've picked up. As long as you continue to perform at your usual level, there should be no problem."

The threat was heard loud and clear. Sephiroth did nothing to keep the warning from his voice as he asked, "And if I don't?"

Hojo smiled blithely. "Then I believe we'll skip the formalities. The Turks are more than capable of handling this kind of disposal."

It would be wrong to say that Sephiroth feared the Turks; there wasn't a person alive that he feared. But, for the first time, he truly feared for another. For these babies, who were perfectly defenseless, who—thanks to Hojo's threat—Sephiroth was only now realizing would need constant care and supervision, something that he'd be hard-pressed to find between a life already crammed tight with his work and missions.

But he wouldn't take it back now. He would make it work.

Sephiroth said nothing more. He strode from the room and didn't look back.

Chapter Text

"If he's going to play hooky, he could at least have the decency to invite us along," Genesis declared, breezing into Sephiroth's quarters without so much as a knock.

With a sigh, Angeal followed him in. "I somehow doubt that's what happened. He probably overslept."

Genesis snorted, stopping so that Angeal could get the full force of his skeptical expression.

"In our entire lives, have you ever known Sephiroth to be tardy?"

"Well...no, but there's a first time for everything."

"Not for him."

"I just think you should approach a situation like this with a bit more compassion. He could be ill. Hasn't he been complaining about headaches lately? This could be that."

For a moment, Genesis faltered, but he rallied quickly, shaking his head dismissively as he stomped towards Sephiroth's bedroom.

"The great, infallible Sephiroth, sick?" He seemed to find the very idea ludicrous. "The day Sephiroth takes a sick day, I'll eat my copy of Loveless—"

Something lumpy and soft gave beneath Genesis's foot and he stumbled.

"What in the—?"

Genesis paused, then knelt down.

"What? What is it?" Angeal asked, stepping a bit closer.

Silently, Genesis straightened and faced Angeal, holding up the offending item that tripped him:

A stuffed moogle.

Nonplussed, Angeal stared at it. Logically, he knew it was a toy, but that was hard to compute in this setting. In Sephiroth's apartment. The most personable thing in the entire space was his Masamune, resting stately in its mantle whenever he was home from missions.

Genesis's eyes were very wide. "What in the hell is this supposed to be?" he asked faintly.

"Er—well, it's a—"

"I know what it is!" Genesis hissed. He shook it roughly. "Why—Who's bringing toys into Sephiroth's home?!"

"I—" Even the most pedestrian, logical explanation failed him. "I don't know. But standing out here speculating won't help."

Genesis gaze towards Sephiroth's bedroom door was a lot less vengeful and much warier.

"...I'm not sure I want to know, honestly." Genesis snatched up Angeal's upper arm. "What if there's more?"

Angeal couldn't keep the disbelief from his face. "What? More toys?"

"Yes! What if we go in there and there's—an avalanche of them! Stuffed animals as far as we can see, and Sephiroth, there, in the middle, playing with them—" Genesis looked sickened by the very thought. "I don't think my heart could take it."

"You're being ridiculous."

"No, ridiculous is walking into Sephiroth's apartment and finding a stuffed moogle."

He had a point, but that didn't mean Angeal had to play along with this madness.

"As his friends, we'll still accept him either way."

Angeal moved forward, hearing more than seeing Genesis scramble to drop the toy and hover behind him.

"We should have knocked first," Genesis whispered anxiously, and Angeal almost chuckled; who knew all it took was a toy to teach Genesis a lesson in personal boundaries?

Angeal rapped his knuckles lightly against the door.

"Sephiroth? Are you there? You didn't show up for—"

Angeal was cut off by a cacophony of piercing, furious screaming.

He flinched back, shocked, and Genesis's hands dug into his arm, hard.

"Angeal!" he whispered, this side of hysterical. "What in the name of Gaia was that?!"

"I—"

He was saved from responding by the bedroom door jerking open.

Sephiroth stood there, half hunched in the doorway, looking haggard in a way he hadn't been even back during the Wutai War.

His hair was disheveled, tangled, and utterly bedraggled—a state Angeal felt confident no living being had ever witnessed. His uniform was gone, replaced with a pair of black slacks and a simple white t-shirt, both of which sported several multi-colored stains of dubious origin. His eyes were red, and there were honest-to-Gaia bags beneath his eyes.

If the sight of a less-than-perfect Sephiroth was alarming, it was absolutely nothing compared to the sight of a baby in his arms.

It was—a mini-Sephiroth, in every sense of the phrase. Same green eyes, same silver hair-Gods, they were even glaring identically.

Calmly, voice pitched very, very low, Sephiroth said, "If you wake up the others, I will eviscerate you. Slowly."

Simultaneously, Angeal said, "Others?" as Genesis said, pointed finger wavering, "Baby?!"

Angeal massaged his temples, frowning mightily as he tried to make sense of the last half-hour.

"So, if I have this right, the science department created these babies? And were just going to put them down like dogs?"

Genesis crossed a leg, for all appearances bored now that everything had been explained. "It's not surprising; human experimentation isn't exactly new for them."

Angeal aimed his frown at Genesis. "Yes, but we were consenting adults."

"In a way, sure," he agreed dismissively. "But we have rights, and we exercise them. I'm sure baby super-soldiers are like a dream come true for them; no complaints, no pesky human courtesy."

Angeal shook his head, unwilling to face the truth in Genesis's words. But Genesis wasn't the type to turn a blind eye to ugly truths. It was one of the reasons he hated Sephiroth so much.

At the end of the day, whether Angeal accepted it or not, they were inferior stock. Sephiroth was the only real success story of the mako enhancements, and the rest of the cast-offs had to be content as Shin-Ra's guard dogs, useful for little more than using brute force and strength to accomplish the company's goals.

Sephiroth was in a league of his own, the measuring stick they all fell short of, and the sight of him reminded Genesis of that fact each and every time.

Right now, however, he looked far from that immaculate image and Genesis secretly reveled in it.

"I had no choice," Sephiroth said softly. He gazed down at the babe in his lab, sucking on its thumb and watching them all in turn. Perhaps it was the unusual color, but there was something unnerving about the baby's eyes, like it wasn't simply watching them because they were colorful and moving and had caught its attention, but because it was actually watching them.

Well, it certainly has Sephiroth's creepiness down.

"I know, old friend, and I think you made the right decision," Angeal told him gently. Genesis didn't know how he felt about it, not that anyone asked him. Jury was still out. "But...Sephiroth, you don't have any idea how to raise a child. The toys and bottles were a great start, don't get me wrong," he said, gesturing to the toys and baby supplies stacked haphazardly around the room, most still in their boxes. "And I understand if you've gotten attached, but have you thought about giving them up for adoption? To someone who wants a child, but can't have one? Or is more—prepared?"

Sephiroth didn't answer right away. He kept staring down into the child's face, and even though Genesis would swear he looked perfectly neutral, something visibly relaxed on his face when the child glanced up at him.

"No," he finally answered simply. "It honestly hadn't occurred to me, and the prospect doesn't interest me now." He met Angeal's gaze, eyes like steel. "I made this commitment and I intend to see it through. Besides," and here his expression shuttered again, "There were certain...implications made. I don't trust Hojo not to send the Turks to re-acquire his 'property' if I did do such a thing."

Angeal blew out a loud breath, but didn't try to argue; after all, what could he say to that?

"Well!" Genesis slapped his lap and rose briskly, all eyes shifting to him. "This has been quite the enlightening, disturbing morning, and I for one am ready to wash my hands of the whole thing. See you around, Sephiroth. I'll send a card when they graduate college or whatever."

"Wait—Genesis!" Angeal sounded so appalled Genesis couldn't help but look back. "Sephiroth is our friend, and he's still in need. Aren't you going to help?"

The worst part was that Angeal had no idea how ridiculous he sounded. 

"Help? Since when has Sephiroth ever needed anyone's help? And when exactly did I, or you, for that matter, sign up to help raise a child? Or three?" Genesis resumed his exit, determined to put this whole incident behind him. "Sephiroth can clean up his own mess."

"Genesis—"

"It's fine, Angeal," Sephiroth interrupted. "Genesis is right. I never intended to ask for your help."

"That's the thing about friends, Sephiroth. You don't have to ask. Just give him some time, I'm sure—"

Genesis closed the door firmly behind him, cutting off Angeal's platitudes.

He didn't care about babies or responsibility or friendship. As long as these distractions didn't slow Sephiroth down, didn't get in the way of Genesis's plan of defeating him and earning his rightful place as the number one SOLDIER, he didn't care.

He didn't.

Chapter Text

"Can I—Can I hold one? Please?" Zack tried not to look too desperate but they were so tiny! And squishy! And cute!

Sephiroth eyed him dubiously. "...Have you washed your hands?"

Zack nodded rapidly, practically virbating with excitement. Sephiroth seemed put out that this obstacle had been removed, and glanced at Angeal, who gave him a flat look in return.

"Yes, all right," Sephiroth sighed. He stood from his desk and walked to the crib, where three silver-haired babies were rolling around and gnawing on toys. "You may hold Loz; he has the best temperament."

Zack focused on exuding absolute trustworthiness as Sephiroth approached him. Normally, this kind of doubt would be hurtful from someone he'd come to think of as a friend, not to mention the crushing blow to his self-esteem—but this was different. Sephiroth was about to entrust his child to him.

Gently, Sephiroth lowered Loz into the waiting and welcoming cradle of Zack's arms. The moment he held him, Zack felt his heart melt. He was so soft! So small! Even with his face all scrunched up and pouty, he was too adorable—

Loz twisted, looked up at Zack, and let out the most high-pitched, glass-shattering scream of fury Zack had ever had the misfortune of hearing.

He flinched, but he still had the sense to keep the baby stable and safe. Ho-ly! The lungs on this one!

Above him, Sephiroth shook his head, looking weary.

"It's the same, no matter who it is. Unless it's me, they're completely intolerant of anyone else holding them."

"Separation anxiety," Angeal mused, reaching into the pocket of his uniform and retrieving some earplugs. "Or maybe they just need to get used to it?"

"I don't mind a little screaming!" Zack shouted over Loz, beaming. "He's still pretty cute, even like this!"

Angeal made a 'what did I tell you?' gesture. Sephiroth glanced between them, a definite wrinkle between his brows.

"It can't be healthy, though, letting them yell for extended periods of time. What if they strain something? Or—"

Angeal just nodded sagely along and Zack couldn't decide which was more bizarre—Sephiroth having children, or the sight of Sephiroth fussing. Both were pretty amusing in their own way,

Angeal advised him to let Loz tire himself out. Sephiroth lasted all of ten seconds before he plucked Loz right out of Zack's arms and the only sound in the room was the ringing left in their collective ears. (Sans Angeal, who was a traitor for expecting this and only bringing one pair.)

"I'm sorry, but I can't just ignore them when they cry. It feels wrong."

Angeal rose and crossed the room so he could clap his friend on the shoulder in commiseration.

"Looks like they're going to be pretty spoiled, if they're already calling the shots," he teased. Sephiroth's nose raised a little higher in the air.

"There are worse things they could be," he said easily. He aimed a small smile at Loz, reaching out to tap his nose. "Isn't that right, little banshee?"

Loz blinked up at Sephiroth, then giggled, seizing the dangling finger and bringing it insistently to his mouth. Sephiroth's expression was an interesting mixture of confused disgust and enamored.

A bright flash broke the moment and Zack quickly shoved his PHS in his pocket when he received three glares for his trouble.

"What?" he asked innocently.

After a pause, Sephiroth let it go and Zack breathed a sigh of relief; the moment was too adorable to not capture!

"I'll do my best, but he'll probably still scream anyways."

"They're usually content if left to their own devices. Just ensure they're fed and changed and not putting anything into their mouths they shouldn't, and you'll be fine."

Angeal had been the one to get Zack up to speed with the baby situation. Before today, Angeal and Sephiroth had both been taking care of the kids, although due to their aversion to anyone else, Sephiroth did the majority of the work. Angeal did the prep, made sure bottles were ready, helped changed diapers, and generally doing everything Sephiroth couldn't do with three babies in his hands. He also watched them alone, sometimes, when Sephiroth was sent out on the odd mission or two, and had no doubt invested in earplugs during that time.

But today, the day that Zack was due to babysit, was his first time meeting them. His verdict: adorable little Sephiroth's that couldn't threaten him with extra paperwork or latrine duty.

They were perfect.

"Don't hesitate to mail me if you have any questions, or if there are any problems," Sephiroth said even as Angeal ushered him out the door. "Or, if I'm somehow unavailable, however unlikely that is, reach out to Angeal. And if you can't contact him, alert Lazard and have him deploy Turks to our location—"

"O-kay, I think he gets it Sephiroth," Angeal said incredulously. Zack felt the same way; who was this obsessive, fussy person and what had they done with the General? "Say goodbye and let's go. I'd rather not find out if the helicopter leaves on time, with or without its SOLDIER escort."

Looking far more solemn than a few hours away warranted, Sephiroth approached the crib and set Loz down next to his brothers. In alarming unison, they all looked up at him, and Sephiroth regarded them in turn.

"This...is kinda creepy," Zack muttered, sidling up to Angeal's side. He shrugged a shoulder.

"You get used to it."

"Zack's going to be watching over you while Angeal and I are gone."

Immediately, three pouts appeared on those faces.

"I know, it's less than ideal," Sephiroth agreed, "But it can't be helped. If I want to keep you, I have to continue performing my job adequately, which means situations like this will be frequent."

Kadaj—"The youngest—we think," Angeal whispered—teetered forward and grasped the smooth bars of the cage, glaring up at Sephiroth mightily. A string of incomprehensible baby talk spewed forth, and boy, did he sound ticked off.

Sephiroth nodded. "Yes, I understand. And if I didn't have to leave, I wouldn't. But you don't want to be separated, do you?"

Teary eyes greeted him at that hypothetical, and Sephiroth raise a palm in a 'what can you do?' gesture.

"I'll try to be fast, but in the meantime, be good for Zack. He's a good person, and he'll take good care of you." Zack felt a burst of pride for the indirect compliment, chest swelling, and ignored Angeal's knowing look beside him.

When only more fussing met him, Sephiroth leaned forward and down, bestowing a chaste, prompt kiss on each small forehead, silencing any and all protest.

"Goodbye. I will return soon."

Sephiroth straightened and walked away abruptly, ignoring the alarmed, startled crying behind him. From the back, he must have looked quite imposing and firm, but from the front, his face betrayed nothing but longing and indecision.

"We must leave. Now. Before I change my mind," Sephiroth whispered tightly. It would have been funny, but the actual pain in Sephiroth's eyes kept it from being so.

"Right." Angeal nodded at Zack, held up his PHS for emphasis. "For any reason, got it?" he asked, clearly more for Sephiroth's benefit than either of theirs.

"You got it!" Zack nodded firmly. "Everything will turn out fine, just watch!"

Sephiroth flickered a small glance his way, and Zack could see how he had to stop himself from looking just a little more to the left.

"Thank you, Zack," and then they swept from the office and Zack was alone.

Zack blew out a long breath, deflating. He'd babysat a few times when he was younger in Gongaga, but he'd never done so for new parents; he'd had no idea how stressful it was!

"Okay!" Zack said, clapping his hands. The babies stopped crying, confused and curious about the sudden sound.

Zack bounced over to the crib and beamed down at the kids. "How about we have some fun, yeah?"

Sephiroth hadn't been kidding; every single time Zack had to physically touch the children, they screamed like they were being murdered. It would have been annoying under normal circumstances, but Angeal had told him the kid's backgrounds; he could understand having an averson to touch after what they'd been through.

For the first hour, he contented himself with making faces above their crib and making their stuffed animals walk and talk and tell funny stories about their Uncle Zack that they were probably a little too young to understand, but would no doubt appreciate when they were older.

And for that first hour, they seemed content to be distracted, watching with wide, curious eyes every time Zack disappeared and howling with laughter whenever he popped up with increasingly goofy expressions. They were perfect angels, happy and excitable.

But the second hour came, and they started getting grumpy, started missing their father. Zack stopped being so funny, they started pushing his poking fingers and offered toys away with angry noises, green eyes roaming the space around Zack like they were expecting Sephiroth to pop up.

By hour three, they were back to screaming.

"Look guys," he tried negotiating when they were pushing on hour four with no signs of stopping, "What if we took a break from the yelling, just for a little bit? Aren't you tired? Or hungry?"

They refused their bottles and were dry to the touch when Zack checked, little faces a blotchy, angry red. Sephiroth's concerns about them straining something were starting to seem a little more valid with every minute that passed.

Zack thought that if he ignored them, maybe they'd stop; after all, he remembered that kids acted out sometimes for attention, so maybe that was it?

But they sounded so upset, Zack couldn't turn his back on them, much like Sephiroth hadn't before. Come to think of it, the only reason Angeal had been able to suggest it in the first place was probably because of those Gaia-damned earplugs!

"I wish I could make Sephiroth come back sooner, but I can't," Zack said apologetically. "If he could take you with him, he definitely would, but—"

That was when it got weird.

Abruptly, like the magic word had been said, the tears, the crying, the tantrums—it all stopped. Dead silence dropped over the room fast enough to give Zack whiplash.

"Uh..."

Zack looked into the crib, uneasily watching as the babies stared first at him, then twisted their heads to look at one another. What made it worse was the absolute lack of blinking.

"Um...this is probably okay...this is fine—"

Like some sick joke, Kadaj rolled onto his front. He made a small grunt of effort, and pushed, levering himself up onto his legs, gripping the crib for support.

"Oh—Oh my gosh, you're standing! Sephiroth's gonna kill me, he'll be so jealous—"

Zack dug into his pocket, grabbing his PHS with a giddy smile.

"I'll just send him—uuuuh..."

Through the lens of his camera, Zack took in the sight of Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo, all standing, and all looking straight at him.

Slowly, Zack lowered the camera, and stared back.

"Um," he managed. "If...if this is the part where you kill me, I'd...rather you didn't?" he trailed off, uncertain.

The babies didn't do anything he expected, like stick to the ceiling or start speaking in tongues—

No, their eyes started glowing—

"Holy hell!"

—and then, faster than even SOLDIER eyes could track, they phased through the crib.

On reflex, Zack dived to catch them, but he closed on empty air, arms wrapped around their after-image.

Their after-image, that was how fast it was. And in the time it took for him to realize this, Zack twisted to look behind him and already knew.

Shit! They're gone!

Chapter Text

Not for the first time, Cloud considered the idea of packing up his meager belongings and going home.

Sure, going home meant facing the truth, returning a failure, and disappointing his mother. All definitely big fat checks in the 'Cons' section of his mental list.

But what was the alternative? Stay here, forever a cadet, living in the shadow of the dream he'd had since he'd been a kid? Being a cadet wasn't so bad, he supposed. After three years, he'd mostly gotten used to it, and while grunt work wasn't fulfilling, it wasn't difficult, either. He didn't make as much as even a Third Class SOLDIER but he made enough to get by, to send some back home. Wasn't that what counted?

He couldn't deny, however, that it was...painful, working for Shin-Ra. He just felt constantly reminded that he wasn't good enough, that even here, away from anyone who knew him as the scrawny loner kid with no dad, he couldn't measure up.

His mom, Tifa, they both expected him to make SOLDIER; they thought he was there already. Could he really be content living a lie?

Maybe...maybe it would be better to go back. Face facts, set everything straight. I could at least stop worrying about it, then.

Just when Cloud had finally made up his mind, just when he'd decided to march right to the Shin-Ra building and turn in his leave of notice, a noise made him snap out of his contemplative thoughts and look down at his feet.

The last thing he was expecting was to see three babies calmly looking back at him.

Cloud blinked. He looked around, but there wasn't another soul nearby; for good reason, Cloud had chosen this particular playground to sort through his deeper thoughts because it was abandoned. How three babies had gotten here, much less at Cloud's feet, was another story...

"Um...hi?"

The babies exchanged looks—

Weird—

—and the one closest to him reached out one chubby hand to tug on his pants.

"Ablaf gaka," he said very seriously.

Cloud took that in, then decided to answer honestly.

"I'm sorry," he said. He slid off the bench to sit on the ground with them, more alarmed by three babies sitting in the dirt than anything else that was happening. "I don't understand what you're saying."

The babies actually looked disappointed by that, as if they could understand him.

"But," Cloud hurried to say, "I can tell it's very important. Is that why you're out here? Are you alone?"

Cloud looked around, but still, no one stepped out, frantically calling for their kids or accusing him of being a kidnapper.

A tug on his pants brought his attention back down and he was confronted with three pairs of eyes, brimming with tears.

Oh, shit.

"Lost, huh? I know how that feels," Cloud said. He reached out and patted the closest baby on the head. "I'm sorry."

The child froze at the touch, and after a moment of silence, Cloud reached out and did it with the other two as well, receiving more or less the same reaction.

It was kind of funny, in a way that made Cloud muse aloud, "You know, you guys kind of look like the General."

He ran his fingers through the fine silver strands of hair. "Is that who you're looking for?" Cloud couldn't recall ever hearing about General Sephiroth having any kids, but what did he know? It wasn't like they were going to tell the cadets first.

"Well, if you've got Sephiroth looking for you, I'm sure he'll be here in no time." He met their eyes confidently and tried his best to look reassuring. "The best thing is to wait in one place until he shows up." He cracked a smile. "Here, I'll wait with you. Sound good?"

Cloud wasn't actually expecting a response. If anything, he was waiting for the moment when he lost the kid's interest and he'd have to chase down three babies crawling off in different directions.

And in a way, he was right. They did start crawling—but it was on him, not away.

Like he was a living jungle gym, sudden three babies were tugging on him insistently, alternating between using his clothes as handholds and holding out their arms in the universal gesture for 'pick me up now!'

"Whoa!" Barely catching them and struggling to keep a firm hold, Cloud looked down, bewildered as he cradled them to his chest, the three of them suddenly exhausted.

Without so much as another peep, they curled up against Cloud's chest and instantly fell fast asleep, thumbs in their mouths, breathing deep and easy.

"...Huh."

Getting up was definitely out of the question; he was sure he'd drop someone and a dropped baby wasn't something he was prepared to have on his conscience. And his advice had been good; whoever their parents were, they were sure to double back and get here eventually. The best thing Cloud could do was wait and keep them safe in the meantime.

He couldn't help but smile down at the children as they slept, as of yet blissfully unaware of the crazy world they were growing up in. It'd been a long time since he'd dealt with kids, but it was nice to know he still had the touch. Back in Nibelheim, the babies and little ones were too little to pick up on subtleties like being shunned and the fact that he was considered an outcast and an embarrassment to the town. Babysitting also gave him some side money, and the local mother's treated him more amicably while he watched their kids.

He'd thought he'd lost his skill, but evidently not.

Smiling, Cloud held them a little closer.

"Everything's gonna be fine. Just wait."

Chapter Text

Sephiroth hadn't had the time to strangle Zack, but the moment he had his children safe in his arms, he vowed to make good on that promise.

The entire time he'd been out on the mission, he'd done nothing but worry over his charges, mind tortuously playing out every worst-case scenario. They'd spilled out of his mouth and Angeal had weathered his paranoia stoically.

But when they'd returned, it was worse than anything he could have imagined, because even when he'd thought the worst, he'd at least known.

Instead, they were just—out there, lost. Maybe they were in Turk hands, even now...

Zack's only saving grace had been his puzzling story. Teleporting, inhumanely fast babies wasn't a completely unbelievable excuse, as they were science experiments, and Zack couldn't be wholly to blame since he hadn't had all of the relevant facts—but Sephiroth wasn't feeling charitable towards Zack at this very moment.

He left the Shin-Ra building entirely, knowing that if they were still that close he would feel them, and closed his eyes, focusing on the connection near the base of his skull, the one that alerted him to their existence just a month ago when he'd found them in the lab.

Where are you? Tell me.

A sleepy protest met him, as well as a confusing jumble of thoughts and images.

I don't understand. What do you see around you?

The images were no less confusing, but at least clearer. It chilled Sephiroth to the core to think of them below plate, but he had no time to panic.

I'm coming. Pleasure/happiness met him at the promise, and then it too slipped beneath the veil of unconsciousness.

It took nearly an hour of navigating before Sephiroth found the rusted old playground, and when he rounded the slide to approach the bench, he came to a dead stop.

There were his children, alright, clearly exhausted but altogether fine. And they were clinging to a stranger.

The man was young, probably around Zack's age, and it was there the similarities stopped.

He had bright blonde hair, a riot of color on an otherwise sedate, somber face. Sun-tanned skin, delicate features, and even in repose, there was a quiet solemnity to him that practically demanded stillness, peace. He glanced up and crystal clear, sky blue eyes met Sephiroth's.

The fact that he was able to hold his children without alerting everyone within a mile radius...clearly, he had to be some sort of angel, or maybe magic...

"Uh, General? Sir?"

Sephiroth snapped out of his staring, surprised by the formal address. That was when he noticed the trooper uniform. Corporal, too, so at least a child wasn't watching his own children.

"Yes, I—You've found my sons," he states needlessly. "Thank you."

Sephiroth swept closer, eyes fervently taking in the babies, trying to spot the slightest cut, a bruise, a bit of dirt—to no avail, "I can see you've looked after them well."

"Oh, it was no problem," the man shifted uneasily; Sephiroth guessed it was the praise that discomforted him, going by the bashful breaking of eye contact and the stilted, aborted shrug, "They just kinda came up to me and didn't let go, actually..."

Sephiroth stared.

"Please help me," he blurted.

The trooper looked up at him, confused. "Huh?"

"What I mean—" Sephiroth forced himself to get a grip. Frantic searching for missing children did little to lend a good impression. "As you can imagine, my busy schedule makes it difficult to devote the necessary time to my children as I should. And," he added, voice as dry as the desert, "Even when I leave them with a babysitter, it seems I can't expect them to stay put."

The trooper nodded, clearly refraining from commenting even though he so obviously wanted to.

"I would like you to work for me," Sephiroth said quickly, like ripping off a bandage. He came closer and knelt down. He could feel his own expression relaxing without his conscious approval, and he stroked one precious, silver head. "I've never seen them like this with someone else before. There will be a background check of course, but..." Sephiroth trailed off, gesturing to the sight of the trooper, cradling the children so easily, without so much as a peep of protest, "I think the results speak for themselves. I would pay you, of course," he tacked on belatedly. "A lot."

The trooper looked bewildered. "I—Wow. Uh." He looked down, shaking his head. "Sorry, this is...kinda sudden. I'd just been thinking of leaving Midgar before they showed up."

Alarm made Sephiroth's heart jump to his throat.

"A lot," he repeated, already feeling the possibility of a full night's rest slipping through his fingers. "I would pay you a lot."

The trooper looked up at him, surprised, but a moment later a small smile bloomed on his face, amused and wry. Sephiroth didn't even mind that it was at his expense.

"...Okay. Sure. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try it out..."

Sephiroth felt like he might cry with relief. "Thank you," he sighed. He met the trooper's eyes once more. "I suppose if I'm hiring you, it would be a good start to ask you your name?"

"Oh! It's—Cloud. Cloud Strife. Nice to, uh, meet you, sir."

"Cloud," Sephiroth gave him a rather frank look. "You found my children, kept them safe, and are apparently trustworthy enough that they let down their guard enough not only to not cry around you, but to sleep in your arms; please, call me Sephiroth."

Cloud's smile was smaller this time, but somehow more pleased. He bobbed his head in agreement, breaking eye contact with a shyness that was surprisingly endearing.

"Then...it's nice to meet you...Sephiroth," he said in a whisper, clearly embarrassed by the familiarity.

Sephiroth smiled in return; already, he was picturing his peace of mind come the next mission, or even having an entire ten minutes alone in the bathroom. 

He could sleep.

"Believe me, the pleasure is all mine."