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For the thousandth time Angeal studied the photo saved on his phone.
It was of Sephiroth, early in the war. They were young then. It had been after their first mission together. They were instructed to clear a path through a line of Wutai soldiers protecting a bunker to allow the heavier war machines through. It had been a brutal thing, very little strategy and a whole lot of fighting and killing. They had succeeded, at the cost of many enemy lives. At the end of the long, vicious, sickening day, Angeal had snapped this photo of Sephiroth when he turned to him and asked if he was alright. Angeal had told him this meant they were friends.
Sephiroth was only seventeen in the photo. His long silver hair wild and messy. He was exhausted, dark shadows under his eyes. The sun had coaxed freckles from his pale skin. His eyes were still glowing from the mako he’d burned off in the battle. His expression was relieved, and maybe a little affectionate. It was the moment Angeal decided he would never leave Sephiroth’s side.
Until he did.
Genesis scowled over yet another printout of Hollander’s latest experiment. Another failure. Genesis was trying to cross reference the latest attempt with his scripts of Loveless, to see if he could somehow beg a cure from the ancient script. He was haggard, ill, and had a grim set of determination to his jaw. Angeal shook his head. Experiment after experiment had failed. His arms and back were riddled with sutures from attempts to collect cell samples. All they had resulted in were strange monsters that bore his face, and took something irreplaceable from his own soul. If he was being honest, he wasn’t entirely certain Hollander was looking for a cure at all, or if he was just dicking around with their cells looking for some self-serving breakthrough.
“We shouldn’t have left him,” he said out loud.
“Left who,” muttered Genesis, crossing out yet another of the endless theories from his notes.
“Sephiroth.”
Genesis winced, and glared at him long and hard. His sapphire eyes glowed with desperation.
“He wouldn’t have come with us,” snapped Genesis. “He’s nothing but their little puppet.”
Angeal grimaced. He thought about letting it go, but he glanced down at the photo again. His imagination made him think Sephiroth’s eyes were pleading.
“Horseshit. He wouldn’t have left us. We shouldn’t have left him.”
Genesis’s lip curled in a snarl, the remains of his sanity barely hanging on by very few quickly fraying threads. “You talk about him like he’s a man. He’s a pet at best.”
“Don’t be such a dick,” snapped Angeal. He looked at his phone one more time and gave a firm nod, before turning it off to get to packing his few needs.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going back for him,” Angeal said.
Genesis slammed his book closed and stood up to confront Angeal, who simply shoved him back down.
“Genesis, look at us. We’re dying. There is no cure. I want…” he looked up at the ceiling to compose himself, “I want to do something with it before I die. I want to see my friends.”
“I’m your friend,” said Genesis, a whispered hiss that had an agony behind it.
“Then come with me. We can fight before we go. We can ease someone’s suffering.” He caught Genesis’s gaze and saw only glassy madness there. No, his own wants and needs to scrape some semblance of honor out of this mess wouldn’t work here.
“Seph’s brilliant at this shit. Maybe he has an idea. Hollander’s an idiot. He isn’t going to help…”
“Sephiroth, Sephiroth! Shut up about Sephiroth!” Genesis threw his book so hard at the wall it burst apart. “Do you think he gives a fuck about us? He’s probably hunting us down as we speak, like the goddamn war dog he is!”
“He wouldn’t do that,” said Angeal softly. “I know he wouldn’t. So do you.”
“Go find out then,” snapped Genesis. “See what he does to you when Shinra sics him on you.”
Angeal hesitated, not at Genesis’s threat, but at the choice. This had gone on too long. He was running out of time. He didn’t want to leave Sephiroth to wonder why they’d gone without him. To find their decayed bodies and puzzle what had happened to them. He thought again of the photo on the phone. Of Sephiroth, so relieved so see he had made it through the battle in one piece. All the care and love on his face. And Angeal had left him without a word, running after Genesis to try to save him, abandoning one friend for the other.
Angeal steeled his resolve and lifted the buster sword to his back. When he turned away, Genesis suddenly stood up again. “Wait.”
Angeal grit his teeth against it. He had no help for Genesis. No answers.
“You’re giving up,” said Genesis with a haggard tone. “I told you not to give up!”
His own cells were useless against the degradation, rotting as rapidly now from the testing as G’s. He knew this. He’d been over this a hundred times. He didn’t want to waste the little energy he had left desperately searching for answers that couldn’t be found.
“Don’t leave. Don’t leave me,” said Genesis, openly begging as Angeal’s determination became clear.
“You can come with me,” offered Angeal one last time. Genesis sobbed behind him, and if he turned, he knew he’d be shaking his head.
Angeal sighed, and squared his shoulders. It was time to go. He couldn’t bring himself to look back at Genesis, not even once more, before he forced himself to march out the door.