Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     Sephiroth didn't believe in ghosts.
     However, in the hypothetical world where he did, he would expect that any popping up around him would be soldiers. Possibly ones he'd slain in Wutai, haunting him in some form of vengeance. Something that wouldn't be too out of place in one of Genesis's theater-plays, probably one of the more operatic ones.
     At least he had the consolation of knowing that the hypothetical ghost was just as lost as him.
     “Based on the date, it's been about... twenty-five years, then, since my death.”
     “Then it's impossible for us to have met, even in passing,” Sephiroth replied, folding his arms over his chest, “I'm only twenty.”
     The supposed ghost nodded, one hand propping up the opposite elbow as he tapped a knuckle against his lips. “The time-disparity alone creates questions. Identifying how, or at the very least why, we became connected, might help to clear those questions up.”
     Sephiroth had woken up to the sound of a voice in his bedroom. He'd reacted near-instantly, springing up and grabbing Masamune to cleave the intruder in two. However, all he'd really accomplished was carving a deep slash into the wall, because his intruder was apparently incorporeal.
     His reflexes, however, had earned equal praise and admonishment from the stranger— the apparent ghost of a supposed Shinra researcher and scientist, Dr. Grimoire Valentine.
     The man certainly didn't look like any scientist Sephiroth knew— and he knew his fair share. Mild translucence aside, he thought Valentine looked more like some sort of mercenary. Though that might've been a bias made based on the thigh-holster. But even admitting his bias, Valentine was a far cry from the more familiar lab coats and comfortable dress shoes. A bandana perfectly knotted and positioned to be pulled up over mouth and nose, sturdy boots with hints of metal peeking through the worn toes, and a long cloak that looked... not quite like it was made of leather, but definitely of a thick and durable fabric.
     They'd learned, after the initial ‘scuffle’— if it could even be called that— that Valentine could not go far from Sephiroth. He was able to walk through walls and closed doors, but inexplicably didn't fall through the floor. When he had attempted to leave Sephiroth, a prowling Turk had failed to notice him— according to Valentine, the man had walked right through him with little more than a shiver and a mutter about the AC. But Valentine was unable to go any further than the hallway immediately in front of Sephiroth's apartment unless Sephiroth himself drew closer. Upon learning that, Sephiroth had decided he'd rather his possible hallucination stay where he could see it.
     “Have you much contact with mako?” Valentine asked suddenly, drawing Sephiroth out of his thoughts.
     “I'm a SOLDIER.” he answered on reflex.
     “You say that in a way that suggests something other than an ordinary soldier. Something implemented within the past twenty-five years, perhaps?” Valentine asked with a slight smile.
     After a moment spent blinking, Sephiroth looked away.
     The translucent man chuckled, coming closer. “It's alright,” Valentine informed him, looking like he was debating if it was worth trying to sit down, “Why don't you explain if to me? It may help give us some answers.”
     “SOLDIERs are genetically enhanced individuals,” he explained as Valentine nudged his thigh against the edge of the bed, “Treated primarily with mako to become stronger, faster, and more durable.”
     Valentine gave him an indiscernible look. “... Mako is the raw, condensed form of the Lifestream itself,” the man said in a flat tone, “Even minor exposure to small amounts of it can have lasting negative effects. And you were... treated, you say, with it.”
     Sephiroth shrugged. “It's been twenty-five years.”
     “... Yes, I suppose it has.” Valentine murmured, looking away. After a moment, the man said, “Before my passing, I had come into contact with several... variations of mako, shall we say. There is a chance that there's some relation between that and your... treatment. I cannot say for certain if either will be reachable, but there are two main individuals I can think of who may be able to help get your hands on my research.”
     After a moment, Sephiroth nodded, standing up. “Alright.” he said as he grabbed his coat.
     “First, my son, Vincent. I... am aware that the administrative research department have... hazardous careers, though, so I cannot guarantee he will be alive. Or necessarily willing to help. I wasn't as supportive a father as I should have been, and we rarely saw eye-to-eye.” Valentine said with a sigh.
     “Failing him?” Sephiroth asked, heading towards the apartment door.
     “My assistant from the time, Lucretia Crescent. She was a bright young woman with a hearty work ethic. There's a chance she retired after my passing, but I would start with the science department. If nothing else, I imagine they would be able to point you towards her.”
     He didn't think his grimace was as well-hidden as he wanted, based on the concerned frown Valentine gave him. Sephiroth ignored that, though, instead focusing on heading for the elevator. It'd be quicker to check with the Turks first— basic confirmation of if ‘Vincent Valentine’ was still alive or not, because if he was then he might be deployed somewhere. After that... after that, try to pry information from Hojo.
     Or maybe he could cut the middlemen out, and just... ask Tseng if Valentine's research could be forwarded to him?
     Valentine remained quiet for the greater portion of the walk, thankfully. Sephiroth already wasn't one for idle chatter, let alone from someone only he could see or hear.
     Which he even gained proof of. A pair of office-workers passed him at one point, and though Valentine stepped aside, the shoulder of one still passed through the man the same way Masamune had. As Sephiroth watched, he heard a comment about geese walking over graves, but nothing about Valentine.
     “... It doesn't hurt,” Valentine said, when he noticed Sephiroth watching, “It feels mildly unpleasant, but no worse than a muscle-cramp. I suspect that even if I were to walk through a crowded street, I wouldn't notice much.”
     Checking that no one was around to really notice, Sephiroth replied, “Then why step aside?”
     Valentine smiled. “Because I know it effects others, even if it's something as simple as a chill. So it's only polite to take them into consideration.”
     Another check. “They'll never know to thank you.”
     “I don't do it for thanks,” Valentine replied calmly before asking, “This way?”
     Valentine really wasn't like other scientists, Sephiroth reflected as he turned back towards the Turk offices. If anything, the man reminded him of Professor Gast.
     The present Turks barely looked up when he entered their block. But despite that, Sephiroth knew they were watching closely. He rarely intruded on their territory, after all. He gave them the same treatment when he caught them in the SOLDIER areas.
     It only took a moment to find Tseng— or, rather, to be found by Tseng.
     “General,” the Turk greeted blandly, “Is something the matter?”
     Sephiroth ignored the strange look Valentine was giving him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I'm looking for information.”
     Tseng tipped his head, a gesture Sephiroth had learned was an invitation to keep talking.
     He'd thought of his excuse in advance, and said, “I overheard a lab assistant talking about similarities between the genetic degradation certain SOLDIERs experienced and a former scientist's research.”
     “Pardon?” Valentine demanded, brow furrowing.
     “And you haven't asked the director because...?” Tseng hummed.
     “I'd rather pull teeth.”
     After a moment, Tseng shrugged, turning away. No one particularly liked Hojo, and Sephiroth could put them through a wall if they annoyed him. It was a combination he had abused a few times before. The Turk likely knew he was playing a card, but went along with it— one of the reasons he was one of the few tolerable Turks.
     He followed Tseng, with Valentine drifting after.
     “What scientist?” the Turk asked, voice bland as ever.
     “Dr. Valentine.”
     Tseng paused, glancing back at him. “Odd,” the Turk said, “The name is familiar... perhaps we've already found this connection?”
     Probably not. Sephiroth had made the story up while in the elevator.
     Nonetheless, he followed Tseng back to his desk and waited while the man began searching for Valentine's file. If he had truly been a Shinra scientist, then his work would be archived, with a note in his file detailing where.
     “Hm.” Tseng frowned after a minute.
     “What is it?” Sephiroth asked.
     For a long moment, Tseng didn't answer, clicking through something on his computer. Sephiroth starting becoming increasingly glad he'd created the story of overhearing someone else say the name. He was going to have to go to Hojo for hallucinations, wasn't he? Was he beginning to degrade the same way Genesis and Angeal were?
     “... According to the database, Dr. Valentine's research was never archived,” Tseng murmured, brow furrowing, “Ordinarily, this would be due to a rejection of some sort. But I'm not finding anything about such a rejection, nor any notes of theft or misplacement. He's listed as having been killed in a lab accident, but from the reports here, damage was considerably minor, with the doctor being the only casualty. But even in such an event, there would have been backups of some nature...”
     The Turk was scowling at his screen by this point. Sephiroth risked letting his eyes flick over to Valentine.
     “... My research was controversial, at the time,” the doctor murmured, apparently catching his glance, “I was originally assigned to search for the Promised Land based on a translation of a Cetran tablet, but I diverged from that to instead research a pair of entities called Chaos and Omega.”
     ... Why would such research go missing? That didn't make much sense.
     And to top it off, the research being missing meant that they were stuck.
     Tseng suddenly growled, drawing his attention again. “I'm sorry, General,” he said, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face, “It looks like Director Hojo has restricted further access to Dr. Valentine's file. I'm unable to even view the identity of the doctor's personal assistant. If you want Dr. Valentine's research, you'll have to ask Hojo yourself— preferably after I have reminded him not to alter company files without notifying us, yet again.”
     Charming.
     Sephiroth nodded, giving Tseng his thanks, and left.
     Rather than go deal with the headache of Hojo, however, Sephiroth returned to his apartment. He could see that the doctor at his shoulder had some questions.
     Thankfully, Valentine didn't instantly begin pelting him with questions the second the apartment door closed. Rather, the man crossed over to the window and stared absently through the blinds, tapping a knuckle against his lips again.
     “You have questions for me.” Sephiroth said blandly.
     After a moment, Valentine turned around. “First and foremost, I realize that my manners seem to have left me— I never asked your name.”
     ... He hadn't, had he? Their introduction had been primarily one-sided, with Sephiroth demanding to know who the intruder in his bedroom was. And from there, it had shifted instantly to what was going on and how to remedy it.
     “Sephiroth.” he replied simply.
     The doctor blinked, nodding a bit. “Sephiroth,” he repeated, as if sounding it out, followed by, “Twenty is far too young to be a general, so I sincerely hope that to be a nickname among friends.”
     “It isn't.”
     Valentine looked... pained and somewhat thunderous. “Sephiroth,” the man said, voice quiet in a very deliberate way, “You told me that SOLDIERs are genetically modified through mako treatments. How young is the average SOLDIER?”
     “I'm a special case,” he informed Valentine, crossing his arms over his chest, “A prototype, if you will.”
     The doctor did not look placated. “And the genetic degradation you mentioned other SOLDIERs experiencing?”
     Sephiroth looked away. “... My friends,” he said stonily, “Genesis and Angeal. Not long ago, they deserted Shinra. They've since begun to mutate as a result of cellular genetic degradation, though Angeal appears far more stable than Genesis, with his mutation remaining largely static.”
     “... And your condition?”
     “According to Professor Hojo, I am in no danger of degrading. A perfect specimen.” he said, just barely managing not to spit the words.
     He still didn't understand why he couldn't have helped Genesis. No one ever told him if it was an issue of compatibility or not. Hollander had just told him he wasn't allowed to be a donor for Genesis, and Hojo had sneered at the very idea. The thought crept up on him sometimes— if Sephiroth had used his status and intimidation, could he have forced a lower-ranking science member to help, and done it anyway? If he had done that, would Genesis have been cured?
     Was it too late to do anything?
     A chill suddenly ran through his shoulder, making him snap around, lashing out—
     But all that got him was a cold hand and a briefly bemused expression on Valentine's face. The doctor had apparently come over and tried to touch his shoulder, possibly on instinct— Sephiroth had seen others do such things before, had seen Angeal do it to Genesis all the time. Zack, Angeal's mentee, had tried to do it with him once, but Sephiroth had moved away. However, the doctor moved completely silently, so he'd snuck up— that was going to be annoying.
     “It is not your fault,” Valentine said firmly once the amusement left his face, “I understand there is frequently a need to test certain things on human subjects, but such tests should be performed on consenting adults who have been given a rundown of all the risks and the ability to back out if they feel uncomfortable. From the sound of things, you were a child. As such, what they did to you was unethical and wrong.”
     It was like a resounding echo of something Angeal's mentee had said, wasn't it? The boy had crossed his arms, shaken his head, and declared, ‘That's so messed up!’
     But it was different, because Valentine was a doctor. A Shinra scientist himself.
     The only scientist that had ever talked about ethics, about right and wrong in such  an abstract sense, to Sephiroth, had been Gast. And Gast had effectively abandoned him. And... he didn't think it had ever been so... direct. So intended for him. Rather, it had always been a commentary on whatever project Hojo had been running at the time.
     Valentine was saying it to him, about him.
     Sephiroth turned away, asking, “Did you have any other questions, doctor?”
     Thankfully, the dead man stepped back, face becoming mostly neutral. “Your administrative research friend called Hojo the director of science?”
     “Yes.”
     “I see. I don't think it's a good job for him. From what I remember of the boy, he was always somewhat antisocial.”
     ... Sorry, ‘the boy?’
     Sephiroth's question must've shown on his face, because Valentine elaborated, “When I started my research into the Promised Land based on the tablet's translation, I requested an assistant. The one I was given was Lucretia, but she had also been offered a spot on a team under my associate, Professor Gast. She accepted the offer to work with me, while the majority of her fellow university graduates went to work with Gast. She and Hojo graduated the same year, both with top marks. The few times I met Hojo, he preferred to hide behind other people and let them do the talking so he could keep working. You don't exactly have that option when you're the director of a large department in a company like Shinra Electric.”
     Valentine knew Gast?
     Valentine knew Hojo?
     Valentine knew Hojo as ‘the boy?’
     “... He's also... my father.” Sephiroth said, somewhat experimentally.
     Valentine raised an eyebrow. “I know you said you'd rather pull teeth than talk to him, but that may be a good point to start at, especially if he's the reason my work was never archived. Can we get to him through your mother?”
     He had been expecting some comment about how he didn't look like Hojo, or an apology, something to that nature. It was what everyone else did. But Valentine just took the information in stride and kept moving. It was... refreshing.
     Sephiroth shook his head. “Unfortunately not. I'm told Jenova died during labor.”
     Valentine gave him an odd look, holding a hand up. “Jenova? Was that your mother's name?”
     “It's what Hojo told me.”
     The doctor took a deep breath, seeming to examine him. “... Very... coincidentally, Jenova was the name given to a fossilized biomass Gast discovered in the Northern Crater. That, I believe, was the project that Gast recruited a team of assistants for— the study of what many believed was the remains of a Cetra.”
     Sephiroth's eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?” he asked, maybe a bit more harshly than intended.
     Valentine frowned, shaking his head. “Without proof, nothing. But you've already confirmed for me that at the very least, your father endorses child experimentation. I'm not discounting the fact that people change, but combine that with the fact that the Hojo I knew was an asocial workaholic, and your mother sharing a name with the biggest discovery in the paleoarchaeologic community since summon materia? I will admit, perhaps I'm biased based on the fact that he seems to have hidden what was ultimately my life's work— but in my mind, that becomes highly suspect. A scientist does not believe in coincidences, and there are a great number of them surrounding the circumstances between the two of you.”
     His fists clenched.
     Silently, he walked through the doctor and to his bedroom. Care was taken to make sure the door slammed behind him. Valentine didn't follow him.
     Taking carefully measured breaths, Sephiroth sat on the edge of his bed. His hands were arranged in his lap to prevent him from destroying anything. His gaze settled on the gash across the wall, glaring at the reminder that Valentine existed.
     He wasn't even entirely certain why he was so incensed.
     Valentine, this entire time, had been polite. Courteous. The first thing the man had done after Sephiroth had tried to attack him was praise his reflexes and ask if he'd hurt himself. Valentine hadn't automatically assumed he would fix everything himself, but had phrased their figuring things out as a partnership. Several times, the man had expressed concern on Sephiroth's behalf, never once pushing where he wasn't wanted or...
     Valentine had been good.
     But just like Gast, he was too good to be true.

Chapter Text

     Smallest of mercies, Valentine seemed to know when he was unwelcome, and kept his peace after their... ‘disagreement.’ He stayed within Sephiroth's range, as previously requested, but stayed silent, and seemed to be spending all his time thinking. Whether Sephiroth was training or filling out paperwork, the doctor would stand or kneel off to the side with a distant expression. A few times, Sephiroth would see him attempt to reach for something, only to mutter a quiet curse and shake his head— based on how he started to see Valentine mime writing on walls or the floor, he suspected it was a desire for a notebook or the like.
     ... Sephiroth didn't want to believe what Valentine had proposed. That Jenova wasn't actually his mother— or, if she was, that she was actually a well-preserved biomass suspected to be a Cetra. But it made sense, didn't it? Why he was so different? If his mother hadn't been human?
     In which case, could he expect to start sprouting wings like Genesis and Angeal? Hojo claimed he was stable, but...
     He was pulled out of his thoughts by a decisive knock at the office door.
     “Enter.” Sephiroth called, the doctor barely blinking from where he sat.
     The Turk director, of all people, strode in, scowling rather fiercely. “General.”
     “Director.”
     Verdot stood across from him, not bothering to hide his glare. Sephiroth calmly met his gaze head on.
     After perhaps thirty seconds, the Turk announced, “I don't know where you heard the name, but Dr. Valentine's research was considered classified even before Hojo removed it from the archives.”
     That got the doctor standing up. From the corner of his eye, Sephiroth noted Valentine was frowning. “Is that so.”
     “He was a theoretical metaphysicist, not a biologist, so there shouldn't be any overlap between his research and our current problem.” Verdot confirmed.
     “Corrupted mako.” Valentine supplied.
     “The discussion I overheard was about ‘corrupted mako.’ Does that not, in a sense, relate?” Sephiroth asked the Turk.
     Verdot's eyes narrowed. “And yet you've no clue who said it, huh?”
     “Given the high rate of turnover the science department experiences, can you logically expect me to keep track of every assistant who crosses the floor?” he replied, ignoring Valentine's concerned and disgruntled expression for the time being.
     For a while, the director didn't say anything, just stood over him. Searching for tells. Waiting for him to crack. Sephiroth calmly stared back, waiting for Verdot to give up. Everyone did, after a certain point. Genesis had once declared it was his eyes.
     And eventually, the director did scoff and turn away. “Come on.”
     Sephiroth debated being difficult, but Valentine gave him a meaningful look. Rolling his eyes, he got up and followed the Turk out of the office. Valentine nodded as if in approval, and the two of them followed Verdot to the elevator.
     As they went up, towards the Turk floor, Verdot abruptly declared, “You will not be allowed to bring your PHS in, or anything potentially used to write.”
     Valentine's brow furrowed, and Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. “So I'm being allowed to look at classified materials, am I?”
     “Doctor Grimoire Valentine passed away twenty-five years ago,” Verdot said coldly, reiterating the one thing everyone seemed to know, “Most of his research was supposed to be archived, but his personal effects went to his next-of-kin.”
     The son Valentine had mentioned, most likely— the Turk, Vincent. Sephiroth didn't say that, though, instead commenting, “I fail to see the connection.”
     Verdot didn't look at him, scowling as the elevator doors opened and he stepped off. As Sephiroth and Valentine followed him, the director said, “His only next-of-kin was an elite of our ranks. Every personal effect of a Turk is considered classified.”
     Valentine faltered for a moment, inhaling sharply.
     “So I take it this next-of-kin passed away in the line of duty?” Sephiroth tested carefully as he was led across the floor. The other Turks barely gave him a glance yet again, though he knew their director's presence meant they were likely listening intently.
     Verdot scoffed as he brought them to the very back of the floor, unlocking what looked to be a storage room full of carefully sealed and labeled boxes. “Bodyguard duty. Lab accident. Minimal damage and the only casualty. Body had to be cremated and disposed of on-site to prevent contamination risks.”
     Sephiroth risked a glance over his shoulder, managing to disguise it as watching the door close. The doctor briefly met his gaze and offered a wan smile. “I said it was a possibility, didn't I?” Valentine murmured, fists clenching briefly. “The administrative research department... rarely lives long.”
     “Over here.” Verdot called gruffly, drawing Sephiroth's attention. “Don't worry, it's not locked. Not like that'd bother you.”
     “Are the walls soundproofed?” he asked as he approached. The director was writing something on a box accumulating dust on a far shelf.
     “Barely. Your PHS and any pens.” Verdot ordered, holding a hand out. After a moment, Sephiroth obliged. He didn't exactly carry many writing utensils, but he wasn't exactly attached to his PHS either. It looked like Verdot considered frisking him, but only said, “You have half an hour,” in a curt voice, moving to stand over by the door.
     As he did, Sephiroth let his gaze flick to the doctor.
     “Vincent was never very scientifically oriented— he could manage, yes, but I imagine most of my belongings were actually claimed by my department in order to make the most of my research. He was most likely to have inherited my personal journal, which should at least have my field notes.” Valentine informed him, shoulders back and face blank. Putting on a professional front, then.
     Sephiroth opened the box. Inside was precious little. A few sealed envelopes with dates and what looked to be case names and numbers. There were red stamps across all of them, marking them as complete, and then scribbled notes in pen to refer to someone else's files. Sephiroth ignored those, setting them aside on the shelf. A battered wallet with an ancient ID card inside, hole-punched twice— once on the serial number and once on the barcode on the back, likely to keep anyone from stealing the card and using it. If it hadn't been for the name, Sephiroth might've thought the card belonged to the doctor— it would seem that the Valentine apple didn't fall far from the tree in the looks department. He held it as if examining it, letting the doctor look over his shoulder and gently brush incorporeal fingers over the company mugshot before putting that aside as well.
     And that left what looked to be a shoebox. Pulling it out and opening it up, Sephiroth found a worn leather journal, another hole-punched ID, and a few framed pictures. Picking one with the glass cracked up— as if it had been thrown— he found a very formal photo of a man seated next to a young boy, similar to the ones of the president and his son. When they were next to each other, the similarities became even more obvious. Again, he held it as if examining the picture for a minute, allowing the doctor to look.
     Then, finally, he picked up the journal and opened it.
     “Towards the back,” Valentine instructed, “Late middle at the earliest.”
     Aware of Verdot watching him, Sephiroth made sure to open and read the first few pages. They were largely mundane— to-do lists and complaints about co-workers, a celebratory note over a friend's promotion within the company. He skipped ahead in small chunks, skimming over each page he stopped on and several after.
     At one point, he paused, tapping his finger against the paper. Valentine leaned over, reading the indicated line. “Domino? He was an old family friend. Our fathers were close, though I suspect they wanted us to be closer than we were. But I simply had little interest in politics, and he in sciences.”
     Sephiroth made a mental note to make an appointment to see Mayor Domino and flipped ahead again.
     The next time he stopped, Valentine held a hand out with a frown. “There's a page missing.”
     Sephiroth pressed his finger to the seam. It was true— he could feel the jab of cut paper.
     “... And that would have been my field notes, from the look of things.” the doctor said darkly, ‘tapping’ against the spread pages.
     Marking the spot with his thumb, Sephiroth began to flip through. Valentine pointed out several more locations where pages were missing, expression growing increasingly thunderous.
     “There are pages missing.” Sephiroth announced.
     Verdot instantly strode over, hand out expectantly. Sephiroth turned to the first instance, spreading the journal as open as he could to display the cut stubs.
     “... Ah. Came that way.”
     “Excuse me?” Valentine demanded incredulously.
     “What do you mean?” Sephiroth asked as he took the journal back.
     Verdot shrugged. “When I got Vincent's effects, that already had pages removed.”
     “Vincent wouldn't do that, if only because he would've burned the whole thing,” Valentine said stonily, “Who delivered his effects?”
     After a moment, Sephiroth asked, “Might I know who he was supposed to be guarding, when he passed away?”
     Verdot gave him a glare. But, after a moment, the director replied curtly, “Your father. Fifteen minutes,” and returned to the door.
     After a moment, Sephiroth put the journal aside and grabbed the lid of the box. Swiping the dust off, he found the words ‘Valentine, Vincent,’ along with a code name, serial number— why punch it off the card, then?— and...
     “... He died four months before I was born.”
     Verdot didn't react or say anything. Valentine, meanwhile, inhaled a bit.
     Was that their connection, then? They were thrice removed from each other, connection by the professional relationship between their blood-relatives?
     ... If this was one of Genesis's opera plays, Sephiroth reflected, then there would be a conspiracy to be unveiled. A murder plot, perhaps. Something like Hojo stealing Valentine's work and the son discovering the fact, only to be silenced himself in what everyone would call a tragic echo of his father's death— and now Sephiroth, Hojo's progeny, was being used as the hand of justice, Valentine unable to rest until someone uncovered the truth and avenged his son.
     Ordinarily, Sephiroth would dismiss such thoughts the second they crossed his mind. But he was being haunted. That or had one of the most consistent and persistent hallucinations. And the fact that he'd never heard of Dr. Valentine before, yet the man had existed, somewhat disproved that idea— so Sephiroth was definitely being haunted, even if the dead doctor had no clue why or how either.
     After a moment, he put the lid down and grabbed the journal again, opening it to that first cut page. Valentine's head canted to the side as he began to flip through, running his fingers down each page without reading. He scanned each line, waiting for the words he wanted to jump out at him.
     They didn't. Not even once.
     “Time's up.” Verdot announced sharply.
     Sephiroth nodded, and went about putting everything back the way he'd found it. The director came over and looked everything over, as if he wouldn't have been able to see Sephiroth attempting to pocket anything. Once he was given a sharp dismissal and his PHS back, Sephiroth left the storage room, the dead doctor following in his wake. Thankfully, Valentine waited until they were alone in the elevator to say anything.
     “What did you notice?”
     “There wasn't a single mention of Lucretia Crescent in your journal,” Sephiroth murmured, pulling up the email function on his PHS, “And Tseng said he wasn't able to access your assistant's identity.”
     “She outlived me,” Valentine nodded, seeming to catch on, “Of that I am certain.”
     “Then where is she?” Sephiroth agreed, already drafting a message.

Chapter Text

     “Hi Seph,” Zack greeted, “How're you doing? I hear they've got you all cooped up in an office.”
     The boy's voice, even over the phone, was tentative.
     “I am well,” he replied calmly, “In turn, you seem to be dealing with every mission type under the sun.”
     After a moment, he was treated to a dry chuckle. “I guess I'm just trying to keep myself busy, y'know? And... if I'm out and about, then if... if anything happens, I'm already on the field and ready to go.”
     Sephiroth allowed himself a small smile. Valentine blinked at him from across the office, but didn't say anything.
     “It is an effective division of our strength, yes,” he agreed, “Though I do hope you're taking time to recuperate between missions.”
     “I am! If I didn't, Angeal would... would...”
     The boy trailed off, and Sephiroth grimaced.
     Before he could say anything, however, Zack seemed to clear his throat, announcing, “If I didn't, Angeal would kick my ass when he comes back! So yeah, I'm resting! Have you ever sat through one of his lectures? I swear, he puts my ma to shame with those!”
     The young SOLDIER bounced back easily. It was... a relief, in some senses. Sephiroth suspected that the department as a whole would suffer without someone as friendly as Zack. He was the figurehead, yes, the general who stood at the top of command. But it had always been Genesis and Angeal handling the people side of things. And now Zack was stepping up into the hole they left— he felt bad about it sometimes, but...
     “Actually, uh,” Zack said suddenly, “The Turks say you're being... weird. Are you okay?”
     Sephiroth rolled his eyes. Of course they would try to use the boy to get to him.
     “I overheard something relating to our current problem,” he said, the fabricated lie easier to say every time, “And am doing my best to research it.”
     “Oh. Can I help?”
     “Focus on your missions, Zack,” Sephiroth advised, unable to keep himself from smiling a bit yet again, “I may as well take advantage of the fact that I am being kept cooped up in Midgar to read up. It wouldn't be quite as effective a division of labor otherwise, would it?”
     “Mm... I suppose you've got a point, yeah. But let me know the second you need help, okay? Us SOLDIERs gotta stick together!”
     “I will.”
     The boy chattered a bit more, Sephiroth offering the appropriate interjections here and there. But before long, he was hanging up. As he did, he noticed Valentine looking away. “What?”
     After a moment, Valentine shook his head, smiling gently. “It's a relief to know you have proper friends. I hadn't seen you actually smile for anyone else. Apologies for my staring.”
     Sephiroth didn't say anything, looking down at his desk.
     He'd told Valentine about Genesis and Angeal. But... he supposed he hadn't smiled, when speaking about them. Did it look, from Valentine's perspective, like he didn't have any friends? It wasn't... entirely wrong, he supposed, but it still ground on his nerves a bit, that the man was just completely discounting the two.
     Before anything more could be said on the matter, however, the office door slammed open. Valentine jumped a bit, hand dropping to his thigh as if to grab the gun he lacked in death. Sephiroth merely restrained an annoyed growl, because he would've known who it was even if he hadn't been looking. Only one person in Shinra had the spine to barge in unannounced on him.
     “What is this I'm hearing about you trying to read the work of some old has-been?” Hojo sneered, standing over Sephiroth's desk with his eyes narrowed.
     “‘Has-been?’” Valentine echoed with a raised eyebrow, arms folding over his chest.
     Sephiroth merely shrugged, looking at the papers in front of him. “I overheard there might be a connection between Dr. Valentine's research and my... quarry.”
     “There's none.” Hojo dismissed curtly.
     “I wouldn't know,” Sephiroth said, keeping his voice even, “I haven't been able to actually read any of it.”
     “There is no connection,” Hojo seethed, face twisted in a snarl as Valentine circled the desk to stand at Sephiroth's side, “That old fool was a rambling moron trying to make theses out of prehistoric poetry! He didn't know anything about what he was doing!”
     “If he were to talk like that at any conference, he'd be thrown out on his arse.” Valentine commented darkly.
     An entertaining image. Sephiroth laced his fingers together, asking, “If that was truly the case, then why was his work classified, rather than rejected? Surely that would be much more efficient.”
     “Because this company is full of halfwitted peons and brain-dead morons who wouldn't know true science if they were rats in a cage.” Hojo sniffed disdainfully.
     “And you would?” Valentine shot back as if anyone other than Sephiroth could hear him.
     “I would still like to see it for myself, if only to confirm your words.” he said.
     “The Valentines are of no concern to you, boy!” Hojo snapped, looking as though he would have slapped Sephiroth if not for the desk between them. The man turned on his heel and strode towards the door.
     ‘The Valentines.’ Not ‘Valentine,’ or ‘Dr. Valentine,’ or ‘that man’
     Plural.
     For a moment, Sephiroth entertained the idea of outright asking if Hojo had murdered Vincent Valentine. If the lab accident was staged to hide that half of his research was not his own, if the Turk had known Hojo effectively robbed his father, if that was why everything was missing. Would Hojo freeze? Curse him? Scream insults? Threaten him? Ask if he genuinely thought no one else knew?
     But he didn't. If he showed his hand now, then finding Lucretia might become even harder.
     The office door slammed again.
     After a moment of silence, Valentine declared, “And I thought I was a less-than-stellar parent.”
     Sephiroth huffed in mild amusement, rolling his eyes. “It pains me every time I'm forced to admit relation to that walking mass of complexes.”
     “Understandably so. And to think he was Gast's primary assistant— what was Gast thinking? Anti-social, narcissistic, egocentric— I meant it when I said that if he spoke that way at a conference, he'd be thrown out. Thrown out and labeled as an unreliable source, at that. And he's the current director?”
     Sephiroth nodded.
     Valentine made an appalled noise, shaking his head. It looked like he was going to say something, but Sephiroth's PHS buzzed with an email. As he pulled it out to look, Valentine remained quiet.
     “... That was quicker than expected.” Sephiroth murmured, standing up. Valentine hummed in wordless question, but Sephiroth shook his head, already leaving the office.
     The way up to the archives was very nearly deserted, though Sephiroth couldn't say he was too surprised. If anyone needed a file, they tended to use the digital archives, and if there wasn't a digital entry, they would send a request that the hard file be delivered to them. Why bother going to search for it themselves? In hindsight, it made all too much sense why he'd received a reply so swiftly.
     The archives themselves, he found, were effectively deserted. There was one person Sephiroth could see present aside from himself, not counting the dead doctor. The lights were dim, and there was a fine layer of dust on roughly half of everything. With a little poking around, Valentine following close behind him, Sephiroth found a door with a small plaque on it.
     “He made mayor?” Valentine observed as he knocked.
     Sephiroth didn't reply, instead stepping back as the door opened a bit.
     “G-General!” Mayor Domino spluttered, all but throwing the door open the rest of the way. “I didn't expect...!”
     “You said I could come up whenever I pleased— is now a bad time?” he replied calmly, head tipping to the side a bit.
     After a moment, the mayor scoffed, rolling his eyes. “There's never a bad time around here,” he groused, “Stuffing me in this glorified broom closet so they don't have to deal with me— pah! As if their PR would be half so good without my hard work!”
     Valentine made a vaguely concerned noise from Sephiroth's side.
     “My apologies,” Sephiroth cut in, “I didn't mean to bring up a sore subject.”
     “Wha— No, no! Hardly your fault, is it?” Mayor Domino waved off. “Forgive me not inviting you into my office, but it's barely better than a broom closet. What did you need, General?”
     Nodding slightly, Sephiroth replied, “I am trying to investigate the research of Dr. Grimoire Valentine, but it would appear that most everything pertaining to him has been classified. However, I am under the impression that he was familiar with you?”
     Almost instantly, Mayor Domino's eyes misted over, and he became somewhat subdued. “Now there's a name I haven't heard in a while— ol' Grimoire, eh? Yes, I knew him. Our fathers were quite good friends, so we often played together when we were young. He was always a quiet, polite boy— my old man would scold me in private, wanting to know why I couldn't be more like Grimoire!”
     Valentine chuckled quietly, murmuring, “I didn't think you were that rambunctious...”
     Mayor Domino waved his hand, and Sephiroth stepped aside, Valentine doing the same. As the older man began to head into the archives, studying the shelves carefully, they followed after him.
     “Now, if I recall correctly, most of Grimoire's research went to his assistant, a girl named Lucretia,” Mayor Domino said, a hand running over the shelves studiously, “He had a few papers published, mostly on the relationship between materia and the Lifestream, but you said you were looking for the classified stuff... so then we'd want to find Miss Lucretia— ah-hah!”
     “You knew his assistant?” Sephiroth blinked, exchanging a quick look with the doctor while the mayor was distracted. “The Turks weren't able to access her identity.”
     “Hah!” Mayor Domino laughed, puffing up proudly. “I'm the mayor of Midgar! I know almost as many secrets as those Turks do! Why do you think Shinra bothered stuffing me down here instead of just cutting me loose? When I say he doesn't want to deal with me, I mean he finds me troublesome, but he can't get rid of me!”
     “Of course you've gone and made a nuisance of yourself.” Valentine snorted, shaking his head. But the gesture seemed fond, like when Angeal would shake his head at Genesis's antics.
     As Sephiroth made a mental note to utilize the mayor's resources more in the future, Mayor Domino had apparently read something in the journal he'd pulled down. Nodding, he snapped it shut and replaced it on the shelf before taking off in another direction. Sephiroth actually had to lengthen his stride a bit to keep up, with Valentine doing similar at his side.
     Mayor Domino brought them over to a massive set of filing drawers, and dragged a wheeled ladder over to one column in particular, climbing about halfway up and yanking open a drawer. Sephiroth put a hand on the ladder to keep it steady as the mayor dug through the drawer's contents, watching curiously. Before long, the mayor was coming back down and heading for a table in the middle of the archives. He was energetic, Sephiroth reflected, given his age.
     Gesturing for him to sit, Mayor Domino took a seat of his own and began spreading papers across the table. “Lucretia Crescent,” the old man declared, “Though it looks like there's a good chunk missing, this is all Shinra has archived on her!”
     More missing documents... Hojo was nothing if not thorough, Sephiroth thought begrudgingly. He cast his gaze over the table— there was a birth certificate, a diploma for high school and then for the University of Midgar, vaccination records, a resume...
     “There are definitely things missing,” Mayor Domino scowled, shuffling through the papers himself, “I bet it's that classified research you wanted. Damn Shinra to high hell.”
     “It's hardly your fault,” Sephiroth sighed, shaking his head, “I admit, I didn't expect to find much...”
     “Sephiroth,” Valentine said, drawing his attention, “There's something stuck to the back of her birth certificate.”
     As he carefully pulled the indicated page closer— there was indeed a second sheet clinging to the back— Mayor Domino made a disgruntled noise at one he'd picked up. “Missing persons report— apparently the poor girl vanished about twenty years ago.”
     Twenty years ago?
     As Sephiroth peeled the pages apart, however, the comment he'd been planning to make about coincidences left him. Valentine, standing behind him, sucked in a sharp breath and attempted to grab his shoulder, leaving goosebumps behind.
     “What's wrong?” Mayor Domino asked with a frown, apparently seeing his... turmoil.
     Turmoil was an apt word, he thought as he handed over the page. He didn't know what to feel. Disbelief was in there somewhere. Shock, certainly. But everything roiled uncomfortably, leaving him unsure how to react and clenching his fists.
     “A marriage certificate...?” Mayor Domino murmured, brow furrowing as he scanned the page. “... To that psycho?! Ah, and Grimoire's boy was the witness?!”
     Lucretia Crescent had been married.
     To Hojo.

Chapter Text

     Mayor Domino had been... excessively understanding, when Sephiroth began pawing through the spread-out file in search of a picture. Valentine was grimly silent at his shoulder. Sephiroth wondered distantly what he was feeling— Hojo had hidden and ridiculed his life's work, but also stolen his personal assistant away. Or had that been why Hojo married her? To get his hands on Dr. Valentine's research, trusting that as a spouse she would trust him with such things?
     If it was anything like how Sephiroth felt about Hollander, he imagined the doctor was somewhat furious.
     “Here, got an old uni picture.” Mayor Domino said, holding out the item in question.
     It took every ounce of discipline he had not to snatch it away.
     Looking down, Sephiroth discovered it was a picture of several graduating students, all smiling and brandishing diplomas. Even a younger Hojo was there, though he was turned halfway away with a scowl on his face.
     “That's Gast's research team,” Valentine commented quietly, “Lucretia is the one with the ribbon in her hair. Here.”
     The dead doctor reached out to gently ‘touch’ the picture, indicating a young woman with hazel eyes and long brown hair.
     It wasn't the best picture. There was a lot going on, and she wasn't looking directly at the camera, and there were distractions abound, but... but was he projecting? Valentine said that his mother couldn't be Jenova. While Sephiroth wouldn't put it past Hojo to find some way to reanimate an ovum in a test tube...
     “... You look like her.” Valentine said softly.
     He took a deep breath.
     “What's wrong?” Mayor Domino asked with a frown.
     Sephiroth handed the picture back, pointing to Lucretia as he asked, “Do I look like her?”
     A wash of understanding ran over the mayor's face as he accepted the picture. Holding it up, the older man's eyes flicked between it and Sephiroth.
     “... I think so, yes,” he nodded, “Don't think I could tell you the specifics of how and why, but you most certainly look like Miss— er, Mrs. Lucretia.”
     “It's your eyes,” Valentine offered, circling around the table to peer at the picture over Mayor Domino's shoulder, “You have her eyes, brows, jawline, nose, and mouth.”
     “Well,” Mayor Domino said with an air of finality, almost as if he'd heard the dead doctor, “Congratulations— you seem to take after your mother! Better her than that psycho, eh?”
     Sephiroth reached out. The mayor didn't fight his reclaiming the picture.
     Now that Valentine had confirmed it, he could see it. He could see his face in hers. He looked like Lucretia Crescent— Hojo's wife—
     He took after his mother.
     Normally, he hated that phrase. It would be said with pity, or a grimace, whenever someone learned his father's identity. Angeal had told him once that he should be proud of it, but he never could be, not when he didn't even know her. Didn't know anything but her name, not the way Angeal knew his mother, or even the way Genesis disdainfully spoke of his parents. But now... he didn't even have any hard proof that this was, in fact, his mother. No DNA tests, birth certificates, nothing.
     But he looked like her.
     He wanted her to be his mother, Sephiroth realized. He wanted, rather desperately, for this woman to be his mother, if only because he had... things. In comparison to ‘Jenova’ who ‘died in labor,’ there was Lucretia Crescent, a woman who had graduated university with top marks, who worked in theoretical metaphysics, who had brown hair and hazel eyes and at least once had worn a neat white blouse with shell buttons and a neatly pressed blue skirt with what looked like an embroidered flower pattern and he thought that might be a peek of pearl in her ear—
     “You wanna take the file out?” Mayor Domino asked, voice knowing and... kind, he supposed.
     Silently, he nodded.
     The mayor chuckled, getting up from his seat. “Keep it as long as you want, General— I sure won't tell anyone, not when those Turks are apparently taking things willy-nilly as they please! I'll keep looking for ol' Grimoire's work in the meantime. They can't hide everything from me!”
     “... Thank you.” Sephiroth murmured, sweeping everything together once more. He didn't say anything about how it was probably Hojo who had stolen the files, not the Turks.
     “Nothing of it!” the mayor smiled, already walking away. For a few steps, Sephiroth noted, Valentine trailed after the man. But he didn't watch closely, more intent on making sure he didn't miss or forget a single scrap of paper.
     A single piece of what might very well be his mother.
     Valentine was mercifully silent as they left the archives. He didn't say a word when Sephiroth headed for his apartment rather than his office. He didn't even try to follow Sephiroth into his bedroom, instead going to the window and staring out it with a knuckle to his lips in the way he always did when he was thinking.
     Once he was alone, the file spread out on the floor in front of him, Sephiroth picked up the picture once more.
     She had celebrated her graduation, he thought, brandishing her diploma with a bright grin as she looked at her classmates. Had she been the one to drag Hojo to that get-together? Even Dr. Valentine called Hojo asocial, couldn't see him interacting with people beyond work, and yet the two of them had been married. Had Lucretia been... special, at all, to his father? Or merely a means to an end, her hypothetical friendly nature taken advantage of like Angeal's mentee by the Turks?
     He was pretty sure that was a pearl earring. The quality of the picture wasn't the best, and it wasn't like she was the sole focus of it, but he was fairly certain she was wearing some kind of stud-earring. One of his hands came up to touch his own ear-lobe. Were they cheap things? Family heirlooms? Something she wore frequently, or had put on for the apparent graduation party? Hojo had never let him even consider getting any sort of piercing, scoffing about frivolity and pointlessness— it had always been a point against Genesis, even if the redhead wore polished materia shards instead of simple jewelry. Would she have snuck him away, he wondered, an impish finger to her lips, to get his ears pierced when he was younger? Or encourage him to go get it done while she distracted his father? Would she cluck her tongue and shake her head about fashion the way Genesis did, and fuss about what earrings would look best on him? Supposing those were pearl earrings in the picture, and supposing they were some nature of heirloom, would she have let him wear them, told him their hypothetical story through however many relatives?
     Relatives, he realized with a jolt.
     It only took a moment to find the relevant paper— no siblings, it told him, both parents passed away due to diseases that there were now vaccines for, administered primarily to infants. Which was... disappointing, but... perhaps he could ask Mayor Domino to loan him their files as well? If they had files, that was.
     Look at him, Sephiroth thought in a voice that sounded all too much like Genesis when the redhead was being snide, already daydreaming a whole domestic life around this woman he had no guarantee he was actually related to.
     Sighing a bit, he picked up the missing persons report. It was... very half-hearted, honestly. As if the people making the report hadn't cared. More likely, it was that her disappearance was related to Hojo, and so everyone had been paid or threatened to look the other way. She'd gone missing on the western continent, apparently, the report dated a mere two months after Sephiroth's birth— six after Vincent Valentine's death. Three events, all in such rapid succession... all with Hojo as a fulcrum point.
     ... Was his birth related to Dr. Valentine's research, Sephiroth wondered suddenly, because why else would Hojo go to such lengths? Why would Hojo be so insistent that the Valentines were unimportant?
     He'd have to ask him, he thought as he picked Lucretia's academic records. If there was any sort of correlation between the dead doctor's research and his own conception, then perhaps the connection between them was more intimate than being a tool of vengeance.
     But first he wanted to memorize everything he could about this woman, on the off-chance that she was his mother. No matter what Mayor Domino said, he couldn't keep her file forever. Maybe he could at least get copies of things like the picture, though. Her birth certificate and academic records—
     Which said she double-majored in theoretical metaphysics and genetic biology, with a minor in medicine and a certificate in Ancient translation.
     He stared for a moment, blinking.
     Genetic biology and medicine.
     ... If his birth was related to Dr. Valentine's work... then... what about genetic degradation?
     Heart in his mouth, he dropped the records and snatched up the missing persons report again, the paper crumpling in his haste. It was half-hearted, yes, but there had to be something he could use— something he could maybe pass along to Zack while he spoke to Valentine...!

Chapter Text

     Twenty-five years ago, Dr. Grimoire Valentine passed away in a lab accident. Five years later, his son, Vincent Valentine, died, supposedly in a mirror of his father's death. Four months after that, Sephiroth was born. Two months after his birth, Lucretia Crescent, his maybe-mother and former personal assistant to Dr. Valentine, went missing somewhere on the western continent.
     According to her missing persons report, she had last been seen somewhere in the northern half of the western continent, leaving a Shinra facility.
     “Twenty years ago...” Mayor Domino said thoughtfully. The man clearly hadn't expected to see Sephiroth again so soon— but he needed answers, needed something he could send to Zack and ask the boy to look into while in the field, and he needed to hide someplace Hojo wasn't likely to venture. “Not Rocket Town, then... that's only been the last ten years or so... and probably not Correl, either, that's just barely any older...”
     “That leaves Costa del Sol, doesn't it...?” Sephiroth frowned.
     “Too far away.” Valentine frowned, shaking his head— according to the dead doctor, he and Lucretia had discovered a natural cave in the central area of the western continent, and that if her disappearance wasn't related to Hojo, then there might be a clue there. But without his research, they were stuck for coordinates, and Sephiroth could get away with a lot of things— hijacking a helicopter and flying out to find it in person just wasn't one of them. However, he could hardly just tell people what to do, where to go.
     “That's the only other one off the top of my head,” Mayor Domino agreed, already venturing into the shelves, “But who knows? There might be something that got shut down, or maybe it was one of those temporary camps— like the ones when they test for mako-drilling.”
     See, that was a trait about the mayor that was so much better than the Turks. He shared his thoughts and volunteered information without dangling it over Sephiroth's head. He'd known this man personally for all of two days and already he foresaw his need of the Turks decreasing by about half. Obviously there would be things each party would know while the other didn't, but Mayor Domino seemed to have access to a good amount of the same info the Turks did.
     “Were there a lot of such camps?” Sephiroth asked, shooting a glance over his shoulder to invite Valentine to chime in.
     “Ehh,” the mayor replied, “Depends on your definition of ‘a lot.’ And if you mean mako-drilling camps specifically.”
     “Mako-drilling camps were few in number, to the best of my memory,” the dead doctor agreed, nodding as the mayor picked out a book and began paging through it, “But there were plenty of archaeological dig-sites, like Gast's and my own, since Shinra was pouring funding into researching the Cetra back then.”
     “Gotcha!” Mayor Domino crowed triumphantly, drawing Sephiroth's attention back to him. The man was already shelving the book and taking off again.
     That was another thing he had over the Turks, Sephiroth supposed. He seemed to take some measure of delight in his work, racing to and fro between shelves and cabinets with victory cries and smug grins. Which was... invigorating, in a way? Invigorating felt like the right word. But maybe infectious was better? When Mayor Domino grinned as he produced something, it made Sephiroth feel delighted as well, in an odd way. Like something had been accomplished, even though all that had happened was information being produced.
     With a file in hand, Mayor Domino led Sephiroth over to the same table as yesterday. Before sitting, however, he raced off again— returning shortly with a map that he rolled out over the table.
     “Right!” the mayor declared as Valentine ‘tapped’ a spot in the middle of the displayed continent. “Upper western continent, upper western... nope, nope, nope. Too far south, too far south... Here we go! Alrighty, let's see. Metaphysics and biology, maybe medical... hm, might wanna just include everything then, huh? Never know when you'll need a nurse, after all.”
     “Might as well, yes.” Sephiroth nodded.
     Nodding back, the mayor discarded roughly half the papers in the file. Further dividing what was left, he handed Sephiroth half the pages. “Any other stuff I should watch for?”
     Sephiroth skimmed over a few pages to get an idea of what they had to work with— overviews, it looked like. A brief statement on the facility purpose, the main overseer, and the location. After that, there was a reference on where to find the official files.
     “... Hojo.”
     The mayor grimaced, but nodded, already flipping through his section. As Sephiroth sat down, Valentine came to peer over his shoulder, watching as he began to read over the papers. He trusted that if anything pertinent popped up, the dead doctor would point it out.
     For a while, they worked in silence, with Valentine occasionally looking over anything the mayor put down. Most of the camps and temporary facilities Sephiroth went through were apparently for specimen collection, DNA gathering, or the like. Environmental studies. And none of them seemed relevant to Hojo, and therefore Lucretia. A few were close to the area Valentine had indicated, so he made a mental note of them, but he doubted they would be what he was looking for.
     “Huh.”
     He looked up. “What is it?”
     Mayor Domino passed over his current page. “Nibelheim— coincidentally now, place got shut down nearly twenty years ago. Project is all blacked out, too.”
     “That has to be it,” Sephiroth nodded, barely skimming over the page, “Hojo was the overseer. It has to be.”
     “Nibelheim— gotta be in the Nibel mountain range, then. Hang on, I'll go look it up.”
     As the mayor left the table, Valentine pointed out the mountain range and the site of his discovered cave at the same time. While by no means close together... they were, at the same time, close enough that Sephiroth could feasibly see an ordinary woman making the trip on her own.
     “Two months after your birth... getting into the caldera was hard enough with a team and proper equipment,” the dead doctor grimaced, “On her own and potentially recovering from pregnancy...”
     “A caldera?” Sephiroth whispered after a quick glance around to make sure the mayor wasn't coming back.
     Valentine nodded. “Ancient— grown over, a perfectly contained micro-biome. At least when I was alive, it was largely untouched by humans. There was a very good chance that the location was of some cultural significance to the Cetra, possibly even taboo to venture into.”
     “If it's hard to access, it'd be the perfect place to hide from Hojo, at least for a while.” he murmured thoughtfully, letting his attention slide back over to the mountain range area.
     Before Valentine could say anything else, Mayor Domino came back. “Took me a minute to find it,” the older man said, “Nibelheim— apparently used to be a company town, way back in the day! The prototype unmanned mako reactor was built there, looks like, as well as some kinda vacation home for Shinra.”
     That sounded... too perfect. An unmanned Shinra facility? An unmanned mako reactor, specifically? No one around to question anything strange or peculiar? A former company town— so something small, probably backwoods— yes, very much so. Sephiroth wondered if a population that small even constituted a town. And apparently a very high dragon population, so if anyone went missing, it wouldn't be hard to blame the local fauna...
     He kept reading, the mayor waiting quietly for his verdict. Valentine was similarly quiet and patient. Unable to stay seated, Sephiroth got up and began to pace to and fro as he read. It wasn't easy— massive chunks had been blocked out or completely removed. But from what he could make out, there had been some kind of biological study performed. The list of personnel was blacked out, but Sephiroth could still count the bullets— it was a small team. Again, easy enough to cover up a disappearance from. And then... that was it on the Shinra facilities. There was a floor plan of the vacation home, one for the mako reactor, a map of the two in comparison to the town...
     Taking a deep breath, Sephiroth turned back to the remains of the project report.
     Doing the math, he found the facility was shut down a year and a half after his birth.
     “... I need to go to Nibelheim.” he hissed from between his teeth.
     “So go.” the mayor encouraged. Valentine was making a concerned face.
     Shaking his head, Sephiroth said, “I can't just leave—”
     “Why not?” Mayor Domino asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. “Who's gonna stop you? You're General Sephiroth, the SOLDIER's SOLDIER! What're they gonna do? Say no?”
     “I would advise thinking this through more before you do that.” Valentine cautioned as he paused.
     But the mayor had a point, didn't he? What, exactly, would anyone be able to do to stop him if he just... decided to go to Nibelheim?
     “... I can't just leave,” he said hesitantly, “I have a responsibility to SOLDIER.”
     “Bah!” Mayor Domino scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Claim some vacation time if you need to make it formal so bad!”
     “Every action has consequences,” Valentine rebuffed with a stern expression, “So you need to think this through before you do anything. I understand the need to find answers— to find what happened to Lucretia— but if you rush in without thinking then you're far more likely to end up hurt for it.”
     Sephiroth rocked back on his heels, looking down at the map of the small town in his hands.

Chapter Text

     “I didn't even know SOLDIERs could take vacations! I thought you just made do with assigned leave!” Zack bounced, peering around the town with wide eyes.
     “One of the privileges of being a living weapon,” Sephiroth hummed, “People are hard-pressed to tell you no.”
     “Yeah, tell me about it! You still owe me, okay? Mister I-Don't-Wanna!” the boy agreed.
     “Mm.”
     He had, ultimately, decided to follow Mayor Domino's advice. Valentine had made him wait until the morning after to follow through on it, but had made no moves to stop him other than what felt like token protests. When Sephiroth had asked, the man had replied that he had even less ability to stop him than anyone else. Which... made him feel a touch guilty. But once he had explained his reasoning, the dead doctor had yielded.
     Now that they had leads on Lucretia, every second counted. It had already been twenty years, and Hojo had effectively buried her. If it hadn't been for Valentine's haunting him, Sephiroth never would have learned that she existed. But now he did, and there was a possibility that she was his mother— and that she could provide answers as to how Valentine came to haunt him.
     By some miracle, he'd managed to keep the escapade thusfar secret from Hojo. Otherwise he would've had a barrage of voice messages on his PHS by now. But he didn't, which was... oddly fortuitous?
     And then, less by luck and more by Zack's sheer force of will, the boy had sped through his work so he could meet Sephiroth at Nibelheim. Sephiroth had no clue what he'd done to deserve the kind boy. They didn't even know each other that well— he knew that Zack had seen him in a mixture of fear and distant respect until recently. Then there had been resentment— for Banora, and because he thought Sephiroth would follow the company orders to eliminate Genesis and Angeal— but after that, something warm and friendly had begun to bud between them, and now Zack seemed to go out of his way to talk to Sephiroth.
     “Oh boy, look, they're already whispering— this place is so backwater it puts Gongaga to shame!” Zack snorted, nodding towards some of the townsfolk.
     “I don't understand.”
     “It's a small-town thing— places like this run on gossip and rumors. How'd you even find this place? It's not even on my map!” the boy replied, following after him as he drifted towards a building that claimed to be an inn.
     “I'll tell you once we're inside.”
    Zack nodded— and barreled right through Valentine. For the third time in the past hour. Somehow.
     “Lively, that one.” the dead doctor smiled with a thankfully amused-sounding huff. “He reminds me a bit of Lucretia, that way. I always had to call after her to wait before rushing ahead.”
     That felt... right, given the lively energy of the photo hidden under his mattress back at his apartment. Sephiroth latched onto the words all the same, adding them to his limited pool of knowledge about his maybe-mother.
     It didn't take long to get a room set up. The innkeeper made a comment about not getting much business. Zack laughed and replied that the city could get stifling. It didn't take much after that for them to be left alone in a largely empty room with simple wooden furniture. Zack promptly sat on one of the beds, looking at Sephiroth expectantly.
     Sitting across from the boy, he quietly warned, “You can't tell anyone about this.”
     “Understood.” Zack nodded, back straightening a bit as Valentine crossed the room to the window.
     “In researching the lead I found, the late Dr. Grimoire Valentine and the potential relation between his work and genetic degradation, I learned of his personal assistant. A woman named Lucretia Crescent.”
     Zack leaned forward, eyes wide. “Does she live here?”
     Sephiroth shook his head. “Twenty years ago, she went missing. However, I suspect that this town was the last place she was seen.”
     After a moment, the boy asked, “What're your thoughts?”
     He held up a hand to count them off. “Twenty years ago, there was a project of confidential nature in this town, at either the Shinra Manor or the mako reactor. Professor Hojo was the overseer. And lastly, not long before her disappearance, Lucretia Crescent married Professor Hojo.”
     Zack nodded, looking thoughtful as his knee bounced. Sephiroth was able to see the exact moment his words sank in entirely. “Wait, hold up— she married Hojo? Isn't he your dad?!”
     “She disappeared two months after my birth— I was told my mother's name was Jenova, and that she died in childbirth, but...”
     “But Hojo's skeevy and that's a lot of coincidences.” Zack nodded, eyes wide.
     Valentine chuckled from his place by the window. “Keep him.” the dead doctor advised.
     Before Sephiroth could say anything else, Zack sprang up to his feet. “What're we waiting for?” the boy asked, already bouncing on the balls of his toes and flicking his gaze towards the door. “We gotta find your mom!”
     “We don't know for certain.” he reminded, getting back up himself.
     “But we don't have any evidence otherwise, either!” Zack pointed out.
     That was true. They didn't.
     Sephiroth did have someone familiar with the woman, however, who thought he had her eyes, brows, lips, nose, and jaw. And with Zack so eagerly and readily saying it... he wanted it to be true. He hoped it was true.
     Zack laughed off the townsfolk as they left the inn, declaring that they were going for a walk. Reconnecting with nature, he said— and when someone expressed concerns about them getting lost, or encountering a monster, Zack simply shrugged and declared that they had both survived Wutai. Sephiroth couldn't help but marvel at how easily people yielded to Zack. It was probably a good thing the boy was so kind— charisma could be dangerous, as Genesis had shown.
     He tried not to think about all the SOLDIERs that had followed his friend in deserting. He suspected that if Valentine knew that aspect...
     The manor wasn't far from town, given a veil of privacy by a brief stretch of forest. The path to it was moderately overgrown, but not intraverseable. It wasn't any great challenge to avoid tripping over roots or getting caught on the underbrush, but Sephiroth would admit some envy for the dead doctor's incorporeal form. While Zack was distracted bouncing ahead, he made as much known with a brief glare. Valentine huffed with laughter, smiling innocently.
     “Woah,” Zack declared, drawing his attention, “That's creepy.”
     The young SOLDIER had stopped in his tracks, staring ahead at the looming mansion. It did look rather ominous, with a sturdy wall around it's estate and a wrought iron fence, windows dark and cast into shade by both the surrounding trees and the mountain itself.
     Before either Sephiroth or Valentine could say anything, an amused voice asked, “Losing your nerve, pup?”
     It sounded like all the breath was punched from the boy's lungs as he whirled around, eyes wide and hopeful. Sephiroth noticed that Valentine reacted defensively again, hand going for the empty thigh-holster. He felt... somewhere between the two, as he turned around as well.
     “Angeal!” Zack cried, voice wracked with hope so bright it hurt.
     His friend smiled as his boots touched down, wings flexing to allow it to be soundless and gentle. The snowy griffon following him landed just as silently, standing statue still once it did. As Zack all but flung himself at the man, stormy blue eyes landed on Sephiroth. His hands clenched at his sides when Angeal's smile faltered, gaze skating to the side.
     “... I know you said the genetic degradation included mutations,” Valentine said softly, each word measured, “But I hardly expected that.”
     “They've been keeping us that secret, huh?” Angeal asked drily.
     Zack pulled out of his hug, asking, “What now?”
     “I would've thought everyone knew about this by now.” Angeal said, smile a bit bitter as he looked away.
     Sephiroth exchanged a look with Valentine as Zack looked around. “Um... 'Geal? What're you talking about?”
     As Angeal looked to his mentee in confusion, Sephiroth stepped forward and asked, voice urgent, “Angeal, can you see him?”
     The griffon's feathers ruffled as Zack looked around again, brow furrowed in confusion. Angeal blinked, looking back at Valentine. He blinked again, then said, “Wait... what...?”
     It was harder to tell in the shade like this. Without direct light on him. At a glance, Valentine looked less translucent.
     “You can see me.” Valentine said, soft and slightly awed.
     “... Yeah,” Angeal frowned, meeting Zack's bewildered gaze, “I see you.”

Chapter Text

     “You're being haunted?!” Zack cried, eyes wide. “Is it bad?!”
     “Dr. Valentine has been nothing but cordial.”
     “Dr. Val— the guy whose assistant you're looking for?! Wait, is that why?!”
     Sephiroth exchanged a look with Angeal as the dead doctor chuckled.
     Taking a deep breath, Sephiroth explained, “In part, yes. Neither he or I know how or why he became connected to me. However, he described himself as coming into contact with variations of mako prior to his death, leading to a theory that there is some connection between his research and the SOLDIER treatments. However, his research has been effectively removed from databases and archives alike by Professor Hojo.”
     “But if it was the SOLDIER treatments,” Angeal frowned, arms crossing, “Then Zack would be able to see him too.”
     “But we're special, aren't we?” Sephiroth pointed out grimly.
     The three of them and Angeal's griffon had moved into the manor by this point, to avoid any potential prying eyes. Angeal was still technically a deserter, with kill-on-sight orders in place. To top it off, their discussion was... sensitive, to say the least. A thick layer of dust coated everything in the foyer, with spiderwebs so thick they resembled gauze in the corners. And yet, perhaps due to proximity to the reactor, there was still power.
     In the silence that followed his statement, Zack awkwardly asked, “Is he saying something I can't hear?”
     Angeal barked with laughter, the dead doctor shaking his head with a smile.
     “Don't laugh, I'm being serious! This is totally unfair!” the boy pouted.
     “It was a good question, don't worry.” Valentine chuckled.
     “The doctor says it was a good question.” Sephiroth relayed.
     “Oh. Well... thanks?” Zack replied, awkwardly nodding at Sephiroth's shoulder.
     “Other side, pup.”
     “Oh, come on...!”
     Clearing his throat, Sephiroth continued, “Dr. Valentine's form is incorporeal. He can't touch anything— neither of us is entirely certain why he doesn't fall through the floor. Attempts to interact with living things are very much the same, with them passing through him. The only indication they have that anything happened is a chill— which Zack should have experienced no less than three times today.”
     “... Oops?”
     “He expressed nothing but amusement each time it happened,” Sephiroth nodded, “But we have also found that he appears to be tethered directly to me. He can only venture so far away before becoming unable to go any further. Our efforts to figure out if this has any correlation to his research have been... stymied, thusfar, due to Hojo seeming to have erased all of it. When I spoke to the Turks, they didn't even have access to the name of his personal assistant.”
     Zack looked horrified. Angeal was just grim, chin tucked down and arms still folded.
     After a moment, however, Zack asked, “Wait a minute— but then how'd you find out she was married to Hojo?”
     “... Excuse me?” Angeal asked, blinking rapidly.
     “When the director of the Turks learned I was looking into Dr. Valentine, I was allowed thirty minutes to look through the personal effects of the doctor's son, which included his old journal. In it was a mention of Mayor Domino— apparently the two of them grew up together. The mayor has been... a tremendous help. Despite a great deal of information having been stolen from the archives, with his help I was able to find the remnants of Lucretia Crescent's file. One of the items contained was a marriage certificate. I suspect it was supposed to have been stolen as well, but was stuck to the back of her birth certificate and ended up overlooked as a result.” Sephiroth explained.
     “... Then where does your mother fit in?” Angeal frowned.
     “It is not possible for Jenova to be Sephiroth's mother,” Valentine interjected, prompting Sephiroth to hold a hand up towards Zack, “Jenova was the name given to a fossilized biomass dug up in the northern continent by Professor Gast. I don't know what Hojo stands to gain from such a lie, but I sincerely doubt such a thing to be true.”
     Once the doctor finished talking, Sephiroth reminded and relayed, “Hojo always told me my mother's name was Jenova. According to Dr. Valentine, that was the name given to a fossil dug up before my birth, and has very little chance of actually being my mother.”
     Zack blinked, then loudly announced, “Hojo is fucking weird.”
     It was strange to hear how Angeal's laughter echoed while the doctor's didn't.
     “So,” Angeal asked, humor fading, “How does that lead here?”
     “Lucretia went missing from a Shinra facility somewhere twenty years ago. There was a project here in Nibelheim around that time, that Hojo was overseeing and was shut down about a year later. We're hoping to find clues of where she might have gone. If we fail to find any, Dr. Valentine and I will be heading for the caldera where his research was performed.” Sephiroth explained, turning further into the manor.
     “Hang on,” Angeal said, and for a moment Sephiroth thought he was going to reach out, “Let my clone take a look around first. It won't be able to identify any fine details, but if it encounters anything out of place, I'll know immediately.”
     “Ooh, smart!” Zack nodded as the griffon got up from where it was resting and began to trot into the other rooms of the manor.
     “‘Clone?’” Valentine asked with a slight frown.
     After a moment of hesitation, Angeal nodded, looking away. “I'm able to use my genetic material to take over other creatures. It mutates them into extensions of me— I can experience what they do, to some extent, and they react to my thoughts and intents. I refuse to use it on humans.”
     “... Interesting,” the doctor hummed, one hand resting on his hip as he reached up to tap a knuckle against his lips, “Perhaps, then...”
     “Perhaps?” Sephiroth prompted as the man trailed off.
     As Zack crossed his arms with a pout at not being able to hear— earning a hair-ruffle from Angeal— Valentine elaborated, “The proposal of cloning Jenova had been put forth several times by various individuals, but the technology of the time was... limited. It wasn't my project, so I'm vague on the details. By that time, I believe we had begun making advancements in our research, so I was in the field more than I was up-to-date on what Gast was doing. But if you have this... ‘cloning’ ability, then it leads me to wonder if it's perhaps less of genetic degradation and more of a... viral infection, of sorts? Like rejecting a donor kidney due to incompatibility. Genetic biology isn't my strong suit, so this is all conjecture, but I do know that there had been a few breakthroughs in genetic splicing not long before my death, used primarily on domesticated guard hounds and common dogs.”
     As Angeal quietly relayed that to Zack, Sephiroth said, “But Lucretia double-majored— one of them was genetic biology.”
     Valentine nodded, declaring, “If we find her alive and well, she may be able to help your friend.”
     “Hang on.”
     All of them looked to Angeal. His eyes glazed over for a moment, as if he was staring into space. Zack's hands were out, expression concerned, as if he intended to lunge and catch Angeal— should the man collapse or try to leave, Sephiroth imagined it made little difference to the boy. But after a moment, Angeal blinked, seeming to... come back to himself, for lack of any better descriptors.
     “It's found something— let's go take a look.”
     “Can you tell what?” Sephiroth asked as Angeal led the way deeper into the mansion.
     “Not exactly,” his friend sighed, shaking his head, “Even with my DNA, it's still an animal, and I can't quite understand it's thoughts, even if I can feel it's emotions and intents.”
     “That's still super useful, though!” Zack piped up as they climbed the stairs to the second floor.
     “Indeed,” Valentine nodded, “If an ethical way to implement such a trait could be discovered, it would have many practical applications.”
     “I know it's wrong,” Angeal said tersely, “That's why I don't do it.”
     Sephiroth suspected that wasn't what Valentine was referring to, and that the doctor was going to say as much, but Angeal didn't give either of them the chance to say so, turning into one of the rooms lining the hall with a short, “In here.”
     “... What'd he say?” Zack asked softly as Valentine frowned.
     “... I think Angeal misunderstood something.” Sephiroth replied, shaking his head as he followed his friend.
     The room turned out to be a bedroom. There was little in it aside from a moth-eaten bed, a rickety side-table, and a massive wardrobe. The griffon stood in front of the wardrobe, taking up most of the available space in the room with it's head bowed and wings arched as if it intended to attack the cabinet. Angeal had knelt in front of the wardrobe, one hand stripped of it's glove and held near the bottom of the wardrobe.
     “There's airflow.” Angeal announced as the rest of them came in.
     “Huh? But that wall leads into the house.” Zack frowned, leaning out of the room enough to examine the rest of the floor.
     “Then there must be a way out.” Sephiroth agreed, reaching out to open the wardrobe as Angeal got up—
     Valentine's fingers passed through his wrist, making him twitch. “Let me take a look first,” the dead doctor advised, “I may as well make use of my current state to ensure your safety.”
     As Sephiroth nodded, both he and Angeal stepping back, Zack cried out, “Okay, I know he said something there!”
     “Dr. Valentine is investigating for us.” Sephiroth replied simply as the man in question slipped through the wardrobe.
     “This is so unfair! What'm I gonna do if, like, you two pass out? The doc and I won't be able to communicate!” the boy protested, throwing his hands up in distress.
     “I'm sure we'll figure something out, Zack.” Angeal huffed placatingly, reaching out to ruffle his mentee's hair. Zack, however, dodged away, sulking fiercely.
     Before Sephiroth could contribute to the discussion, Valentine returned, prompting him to hold a hand up.
     “It's dark, so I wasn't able to make much out,” the dead doctor said grimly, “But if you move the wardrobe aside, you'll find a passageway down. I wasn't able to go very far down myself, but I don't think there's anything hazardous in the immediate passage.”
     “There's a staircase down,” Sephiroth informed Zack, already stepping forward to grab the corners of the wardrobe, “He couldn't see much beyond that.”
     “Sure, but that's already really spooky...”
     The wardrobe was hefted aside, shoved well over so they could all easily access the secret passageway. Angeal sent his griffon down first, which yielded nothing hazardous— according to what he could get from his clone, Angeal said that it was cold, dark, and man-made. Cautiously, the four of them descended. The space was cold, as well as dusty and... open. Stone clacked under their boots.
     With a little experimental fumbling, they discovered a light switch, and that power was still on for this part of the manor as well.
     This part being a lab.
     “Well,” Zack said awkwardly in the heavy silence, “I think we found that facility.”

Chapter Text

     “Sephiroth, Angeal,” Valentine said as they investigated the lab, “May I speak with the two of you for a moment?”
     Sephiroth straightened up, saying, “Zack, the doctor has something he wishes to say to myself and Angeal. Please continue to investigate.”
     “So you say, but it's not like I can understand any of this gobbledegook.” Zack huffed, glaring balefully at the bookshelf in front of him.
     The lab was... upsettingly furnished. And well-stocked. As if it wasn't truly shut down, but merely... not needed, for the moment. It had several examination tables and large glass tanks that Sephiroth recognized as mako vats. There was also a sort of back section, full of bookshelves and desks.
     The dead doctor had the two of them follow him over to the foot of the stairs. Angeal's griffon paced about the lab, searching for anything else that was ‘out of place,’ while Zack continued attempting to parse through the books in the back. Once the three of them were gathered, Valentine took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. It looked like he was trying to figure out what exactly to say.
     “... When I spoke of ethics,” Valentine said, “I was not referring to your actions, Angeal. In fact, I rather admire your refusal to use your ability on humans, and if your griffon is anything to go by, I would hazard a guess that you've only used it on creatures that posed an active threat to people— a very noble action.”
     Angeal shuffled his feet, looking away.
     Valentine continued, “Rather, I was referring to my suspicion that you and Sephiroth share similar childhoods. Am I correct in my assumption that both of you were raised to be SOLDIERs?”
     “... Not quite,” Angeal confessed, still not looking at the doctor, “Genesis and I... we came first. But they didn't think we were quite right. So they just...”
     “And that was wrong of them, on many levels for many reasons.” Valentine said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “You were severely underage, uninformed, and unable to give your consent. Human experimentation is a necessary evil in some cases, yes, but it should never be performed on anyone unable to give fully informed consent, let alone children or infants.”
     “Are we human, though?” Angeal scoffed. “Or are we monsters?”
     Sephiroth just barely restrained his flinch, looking away himself.
     “If I could, I would knock your heads together,” Valentine said sharply, expression strict as they both looked up in shock, “I may be dead, but I'm still a far cry older than either of you, and I'd wager I had plenty more worldly experience as a result, so I want both of you to listen to me, alright?”
     After a moment, they both nodded, the griffon huffing in the background.
     “Monsters,” Valentine said, tone brooking no argument, “Are those who cause wanton harm to others for their own self-benefit, Who feel no remorse or empathy when they cause pain. Monsters are what you call people who experiment with injecting infants with substances known to vegetate grown men, or tell their children emotionally harmful lies for twenty years. The fact that the two of you worry about such things is evidence enough that yes, you are human.”
     Sephiroth heard Zack begin to talk to the griffon as Angeal rebutted, “Humans don't have wings, or—”
     “Most don't, no, but it's hardly your fault you do, is it?” Valentine cut in, glaring slightly. “I also believe most humans can't walk through walls, after all.”
     Sephiroth ducked his head as Angeal stammered. He felt... small, in a way. It had been a very long time since he had received such a... genuine scolding. Angeal's chiding about roughhousing with Genesis didn't count. Last time he'd been so thoroughly admonished... he didn't think he'd even been twelve, yet. But Valentine's scolding was different from Hojo's. He couldn't name how, but it was.
     Before anything else could be said, however, the soft shuffle of boots approaching cut in. Zack had just about crashed into Angeal and Sephiroth both before either of them could turn. Clinging to both their shoulders, the boy hissed, “There's a guy!” with wide eyes.
     “What do you mean?” Sephiroth asked as Angeal's eyes glazed over a bit.
     Spinning around, Zack pointed to the griffon. It was bristling in the middle of the lab, facing an opening that hadn't been there before and growling quietly with it's head down as it pawed at the floor. “There's a door kinda hidden in the wall there and it's a crypt but something was breathing so I took a look and there's a guy in one of the coffins!”
     Angeal blinked, coming back to himself as he relayed, “Whoever it is, he doesn't seem to be... conscious.”
     After a moment, Sephiroth murmured, “Let's take a look.”
     Angeal moved his clone back, and the four of them moved slowly into the small crypt, keeping their steps light. Valentine moved into the very back of the room, his shoulder pressing through at least one shelved coffin. Zack was posted just outside, with Angeal firmly between him and the stranger. Sephiroth advanced to the one coffin on the floor, lid slightly askew and the sound of soft snores leaking out. Slowly, carefully, he knelt down and slipped the lid off.
     For a moment, he thought he was looking at Valentine. The resemblance was... striking. But there were differences. The hair, though the same rich black, lacked any faint silver strands, and was much longer. The cloak was a more vivid red, and shut at the shoulder rather than the chest. Instead of tall steel-toed boots, the man wore sabatons, with a single gleaming gauntlet to match. Half his face was hidden behind the cowl of his cloak, his eyes closed and breathing long and slow. On his thigh, much like Valentine, was a gun-holster, though this one wasn't empty.
     Before Sephiroth could say anything, though, Valentine made a strangled noise. Looking up, he found the dead doctor had lurched closer, expression pained—
     “Vincent?”
     “Who?” Angeal asked softly.
     “His son.” Sephiroth breathed back, looking back to the man in the coffin. It was hard to tell with the cowl, but it... looked like the company mugshot from the old ID he'd seen. Supposedly the body had been cremated on-site to avoid contamination issues, but if it was Hojo, who had lied and stolen so much, then maybe...?
     Making sure to sweep his hair to the side so there was no chance of it brushing the unconscious man and potentially waking him up— who knew if it was actually Vincent, or if he was hostile— Sephiroth reached down. Just barely touching his fingertips to the fabric of the cowl, he pulled it down—
     Ruby eyes shot open, and he had to rear back to avoid getting punched. As he did, the man in the coffin surged up and out. In a swirl of red fabric, the stranger had darted around both Sephiroth and Angeal. Zack yelped in alarm, the griffon hissing furiously as the two of them lunged out of the crypt after the stranger.
     “Let him go!” Angeal growled, a hand reaching up to grab his sword. Sephiroth understood the sentiment, fingers twitching for Masamune as the man held Zack at gunpoint.
     “You shouldn't be here.” the man rasped, voice hoarse and gravelly as if he hadn't used it for years— he might not've, Sephiroth reflected.
     “He can't see me,” Valentine said from behind Sephiroth, sounding shaken, “I'm right here— he should be able to see me, but he's not reacting even when I talk...”
     Angeal sucked a breath in. The action made possibly-Vincent step back, taking Zack with him. The griffon clacked unhappily at that, bristling furiously.
     “Vincent.” Sephiroth said, praying it got a positive reaction.
     Blood-red eyes flicked to him. It was a start.
     “Are you,” he asked, holding an arm out in front of Angeal, “Vincent Valentine? The Turk who was supposedly killed in a lab accident while on bodyguard duty twenty years ago?”
     He was being studied, he realized. Maybe-Vincent was looking him up and down, seeming to catalogue his every feature. Sephiroth held still, letting him look. If that was what it took to get Zack released, then he'd do it.
     “... Sephiroth?”
     The question was soft and uncertain. He didn't know if he'd call it hopeful or fearful.
     Slowly, he dipped his head. “May I please have my second-in-command back?”
     After a long, tense moment, the gun came away from Zack's jaw, maybe-Vincent stepping back. Almost instantly, Zack launched himself at Angeal with a squeak of relief. Angeal wrapped Zack tightly in his arms, stepping slightly behind Sephiroth. He let them, keeping his eyes on maybe-Vincent.
     “Are you Vincent?” he repeated, the dead doctor's presence a chill at his shoulder.
     In an almost exact mirror to his own nod, the man bowed his head. Before anything else could be said, Vincent murmured, “You look like your mother,” in a distant, almost regretful tone.
     Sephiroth could just about feel how Angeal and Zack had tensed up, their gazes heavy on his back. “You knew my mother?”
     Vincent blinked, then nodded again. “Yes. We were... close, once.”
     It felt like his heart was in his throat. Swallowing his pulse, Sephiroth asked, “What was her name?” unable to keep a plaintive note from his voice.
     The Turk seemed to freeze for a moment. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, the man replied, “Lucretia. Her name was Lucretia Crescent.”
     It was like he'd been struck, staggering back and causing his party to react with alarm.
     “Lucretia,” he said, mostly to himself as he reached up to hide his face behind his hands, “Her name was Lucretia— she had brown hair and hazel eyes and wore pearl earrings and graduated with high honors and she— and she's missing...!”
     “Seph,” Angeal said, warm hands grabbing his wrists, “Seph, breathe.”
     “He lied to me,” Sephiroth hissed, lifting his head just enough to meet his friend's concerned gaze, “He told me my mother died— he tried to tell me my mother was a prehistoric thing...! And she's missing—”
     “Missing isn't necessarily dead,” Angeal reminded firmly, hands sliding from his wrists to shoulders, “Even with Hojo. There's still hope, Seph. And even if you don't find her, now you know. He can't lie to you any more, not if you know.”
     He swallowed several times. He wished he'd brought the picture with him instead of hiding it in his apartment. It burned, the thought that that might be all that he had of his mother, was an incomplete company file.
     “Sephiroth,” Valentine— Grimoire said, drawing his attention, “If we don't find her, I will gladly tell you everything I know about her.”
     Slowly, he nodded, taking a deep breath. Angeal held him a moment longer, then stepped back. Zack watched with wide eyes, hands out as if he wanted to do something as well but was unsure what.
     “Sephiroth,” and it was uncanny how identical the Valentines were in tone and voice, “I... will be more than happy to tell you about her.”
     Angeal's attempt to stifle his snort wasn't quite perfect. Sephiroth could understand, though Zack instantly asked, “Okay, what'd he do?”
     As Vincent tipped his head to the side, Sephiroth replied, “The doctor offered the exact same thing at about the same time.”
     “Okay,” Zack nodded, “That is kinda funny.”
     Seeing the blank expression on Vincent's face, Sephiroth warned, “It is... hard to believe. What I'm about to tell you.”
     No response, just a blink.
     Taking a deep breath, he explained, “I appear to be haunted. The man is invisible to all others except myself and Angeal, and is incorporeal in form. He is...”
     Hesitating, he looked to Grimoire. The dead doctor blinked, then looked pained, turning towards Vincent. “... Tell him. Please.”
     Nodding, Sephiroth finished, “The man's name is Grimoire Valentine.”
     The Turk blinked, then took a long, deep breath. “Can you prove this?”
     “How do you prove something like that?” Zack muttered.
     “When Vincent was ten years old,” Grimoire said, prompting Angeal to hold a hand up to Zack, “I let him hold a loaded gun for a first time. I didn't stand more than a foot away, and I held his arms the entire time to keep there from being an accident. He missed all three shots I let him take, which made him very grumpy for the rest of the day when I said no more.”
     Nodding, Sephiroth turned back to Vincent and relayed the story. As Zack muttered about the tale being cute, the Turk closed his eyes, fists briefly clenching. “... I see.”
     “He and I have been working to find answers as to why and how he came to haunt me. So far our only lead is that there may be a relation between his research and the experiments that birthed me, but all his research is missing from relevant spaces.” Sephiroth continued, not wanting to let the tension building fester. Nodding towards the library in the back, he explained, “We've been hoping that as his personal assistant, Lucretia might have access to copies of it. We're searching for clues as to her location now.”
     After a moment, Vincent nodded, murmuring, “Let me help.”

Chapter Text

     “Gast did not write that book, that book was considered outdated when I was in university.”
     On the other end of the library, Vincent informed Zack, “It's been doctored. Look, carefully. Do you see the seam on the page?”
     Sephiroth held up another book for the dead doctor to see as Angeal put his back on the shelf. Grimoire glared at it for a moment before declaring, “The cover is right but without reading it I can't guarantee more hasn't been tampered with.”
     “How about this one?” Zack asked from behind several shelves.
     “... The a's, t's, and q's are all identical. Indicative of a traced forgery.”
     Sephiroth shoved his book back on the shelf, announcing, “All in favor of proceeding to the caldera.”
     “Me!” Zack yelled, already running back towards the stairs.
     “Caldera?” Vincent asked blankly.
     “Where Dr. Valentine and my mother conducted field research.” Sephiroth elaborated as Angeal stared at the shelves.
     The Turk and dead doctor were both quiet. Sephiroth wondered if Vincent looked just as considering as Grimoire.
     Angeal heaved a sigh, shaking his head. “We've been looking through these for something viably useful for... what, an hour? Two? When we take into account the time before finding Vincent as well? And so far we've found how much that's actually what it claims to be?”
     “Three books, maybe, and one journal.” Vincent replied, silently rounding the shelf.
     Shaking his head, Angeal turned to follow Zack. “Where exactly is this caldera? I can send a few clones to see what the situation is there before we go.”
     “Take the night to rest, first.”
     Sephiroth and Angeal both turned to look at Grimoire. Vincent blinked, tipping his head at them.
     “It's a long way,” Grimoire told them firmly, “And even if you could make it, it's late in the day and there has been... a lot of excitement. I highly doubt the caldera is going anywhere, and traversing it's terrain while tired would be highly inadvisable. Especially in the dark.”
     “... Alright.” Sephiroth yielded, nodding slightly. For Vincent's sake, he murmured, “We'll take the night.”
     The Turk inclined his head ever-so-slightly, and followed them as they went after Zack. They found the boy in the bedroom upstairs, examining Angeal's griffon— which seemed to have followed him up. Upon seeing them, the boy brightened, asking, “What'd you talk about?” in a knowing tone.
     “Dr. Valentine has advised we recuperate tonight, and set out tomorrow. He says the terrain will not be to our advantage in the dark.” Sephiroth replied.
     Zack nodded easily. “Sounds good. Should we head to town, then?”
     “I can't, pup,” Angeal sighed, “I'm a wanted man, remember?”
     As Vincent raised an eyebrow, Zack wilted. Sephiroth could feel his own breath catch a little as well.
     “But... you'll be here tomorrow, right? You won't... you won't leave in the middle of the night and... and the next time I see you'll be in another five months on a mission to kill you?” Zack asked, shuffling his feet with wide eyes and not bothering to hide the desperation in his voice.
     “Zack—”
     “Please, Angeal.” Sephiroth said softly, looking away. In the ensuing silence, he murmured, “Don't make us beg.”
     “... I'll be here.”
     Sephiroth didn't know how much he trusted that to be true. It seemed to be enough for Zack, who squared his shoulders and marched out. But Sephiroth lingered, hands clenched at his sides as he tried to figure out what to say, because Angeal left— he was supposed to bring Genesis back, but instead he left too, and now Sephiroth couldn't bring himself to trust that it wouldn't happen again—
     “It might arouse suspicion if you return to town with one more person than you left with,” Vincent said suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts, “I'll remain here as well. We'll meet in the morning.”
     ... Sephiroth didn't want to read into it too much, but Vincent had been— was a Turk. So it was all too likely he'd picked up on Sephiroth's... feelings, and was intervening to spare everyone.
     He really didn't want to read into it too much, but it felt like Vincent was saying he'd make sure Angeal didn't leave.
     Letting his hands relax, he nodded. With Grimoire at his heels, he turned to follow after Zack. He found the boy waiting for him at the manor door.
     “Where's Vincent?” Zack asked, peering back into the mansion.
     “He said he would spend the night here, to avoid any problems caused by returning with one more person than we left.” Sephiroth replied, not looking back. He didn't know if Vincent or Angeal would be standing at the top of the stairs. He didn't think he wanted to know.
     “Oh. I... guess that makes sense.” Zack said hesitantly. His eyes were flicking about Sephiroth's shoulders.
     “Tell him it's alright?” Grimoire requested.
     “The doctor says not to worry.”
     Zack looked doubtful, but nodded all the same and began to lead the way back to town. The sun was going down— they had left in the afternoon, and upon realizing that... tired wasn't the right word. But he did feel... drained, in a way.
     “So tomorrow,” Zack said quietly, drawing his attention, “We'll grab Vincent and Angeal, then we're going to go to this caldera, right? Where, uh, where's it at?”
     “It's rather central in the continent. If we start out early in the morning, we should be able to run there by... late afternoon, at a steady pace.” he replied.
     “Uh, will... will the Valentines be able to keep up?”
     Zack's words made him pause, looking over at the dead doctor. Grimoire had paused as well, grimacing a bit. “I no longer seem to have to worry about stamina, and my legs are roughly the same length as yours. I can't speak for Vincent, though.”
     “... We'll figure it out.” Sephiroth relayed tiredly.
     “Sounds good.” Zack nodded with a wan smile.

Chapter Text

     “General!” Mayor Domino greeted. “Calling so soon— going well, then?”
     “You could say that, I suppose,” Sephiroth hummed, “We'll be leaving Nibelheim shortly to see if we can find my mother.”
     “‘We,’ eh? And you're saying it so confidently now! You find someone who knew her? A midwife or something?” the mayor chuckled.
     “Something like that. And... we found something about a caldera she discovered with Dr. Valentine, so we're going to head there and see if we can find any clues as to where she might be.” Sephiroth said, fibbing a little as he explained.
     “Excellent! Anything you need from me?”
     Hesitating, Sephiroth looked to Grimoire. The dead doctor shrugged— he couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but he was... moral support, he supposed?
     “... How has everyone taken my leave?” he asked softly.
     Mayor Domino barked with laughter, causing a burst of static. “Ever the workaholic, eh? Lazard looked like he's gonna go grey when I saw him on the rec floor, and the Turks are all a-titter, but no one's kicking up too much fuss! I don't think the president even knows you left yet, ignoramus he is!”
     Sephiroth couldn't help but snort a bit at the mayor's eager chatter. “And... my father?”
     “Hojo, eh? Haven't seen him, really. From the sound of things, he got real excited about some project not long after you left and vanished into the depths of that lab. Want me to keep an eye out for the rotter?”
     “You don't have to,” Sephiroth declined, “I'm just trying to prepare for the fallout when I return. Whether or not I find my mother, he is not likely to be thrilled with my excursion.”
     “Bah,” the mayor agreed, “Miserly old toad.”
     “Aren't you older than him...”
     “The difference, General, is that I aged like fine wine!”
     He chuckled, shaking his head. “Thank you for all your help.”
     “Nonsense! You're a citizen of Midgar, and I swore an oath to help citizens such as yourself! Best of luck on your search, General!”
     “You look gobsmacked.” Grimoire commented as he hung up.
     For a moment, Sephiroth didn't answer, just looking at the PHS cradled in his hands. Quietly, he murmured, “I... am not generally considered a citizen. A person. I am... the property of Shinra Electric. A live experiment and a living weapon. For Mayor Domino to so easily call me one of his citizens...”
     The chill on his shoulder made him jerk— Grimoire had come close and attempted to console him again, it seemed. The dead doctor's gaze seemed sad.
     “You are a person, Sephiroth. No matter what Hojo says. No matter what corruption seeped into Shinra since my time. You are a human being, and Domino is a good man— a bit rambunctious and prideful, but a good man, and even though we drifted apart I can tell you that he most certainly sees you as a person. Based on what I've seen, I suspect he considers you an equal.”
     He had to put his PHS away before he accidentally crushed it. “But why?” he asked. It was, in his mind, a perfectly valid question. He'd once thought Genesis and Angeal his equals, after all, but clearly something beyond the degradation had gone wrong.
     “Because you're both human,” Grimoire replied, dropping down to one knee so he was looking up at Sephiroth, “And you're both men in positions of power. Just as you have a duty to SOLDIER, he has a duty to Midgar. And, I suspect, because of the ‘troublesome’ aspect in him that the president sees. You may be young, you may be genetically enhanced, but there are parallels between the two of you, and Domino is too clever not to see that.”
     Sephiroth looked away, saying, “How can I trust him to be genuine?”
     A faint chill settled over the backs of his hands. “That's up to you, Sephiroth. All I can offer is to be patient. Be genuine with him, and he'll be genuine with you.”
     He'd tried that once before, he wanted to protest, look where it got him. Left alone.
     With a soft sigh, Grimoire stood back up. “But for now, I suspect we should join your commander and pick up the other half of our party. It's a long way to go, after all.”
     Quietly, he nodded, standing up as well.
     Downstairs in the lobby of the inn, he found Zack chattering cheerfully with the innkeeper. Spinning a tale about backpacking in the mountains, and how it'd be fun to do without worrying about being ambushed by the enemy for a change, and it had been ages since the boy'd had proper campfire food. The innkeeper and the couple loitering around— no doubt looking for gossip— smiled and laughed. Zack made everyone like him so effortlessly.
     “There you are! All ready?” Zack grinned upon spotting his approach.
     Quietly, he nodded.
     “Sweet! Thanks for having us, sir!”
     And with Zack's chipper farewells, they were leaving the town, heading for the manor once again.
     “... How do you do it?”
     Zack faltered a bit, looking at him in confusion. “Do... what?”
     “Make people like you so effortlessly.”
     Grimoire attempted to touch his shoulder again as Zack's face spasmed.
     “Well...” the boy murmured, gaze going distant as his pace slowed. Sephiroth shortened his own stride to match. After a moment, Zack looked back to him, replying, “I guess I just go in figuring I'll like everyone myself? Like... it's a two-way thing, and my ma always taught me to treat people the way you wanna be treated. So I guess... like... I reach halfway, and let people decide if they wanna meet me there. If they don't, well, okay, I don't have to keep reaching. But... people like being smiled at, if nothing else, and they like when you're honest with them— or, at least, I like being smiled at, and being treated honestly. So that's the way I treat everyone else.”
     “... And what if, after you've already established a connection, they suddenly reveal themselves to be... disingenuous?”
     Zack stopped completely, a knowing look on his face as he asked, “Is this about Genesis?”
     “... In part, yes.” Sephiroth admitted, stopping a few paces away from the boy.
     Zack rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment, chewing on his lip. Then, without warning, he straightened up, looking directly at Sephiroth as he declared, “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
     Grimoire shot him a concerned look, he saw from the corner of his eye. Blinking in confusion, he dipped his head.
     Instantly, Zack's hands flew up to grip his hair, expression crumpling with hurt. “How could he!” the boy all but wailed.
     “Zack?” Sephiroth asked in mild alarm.
     “Like I get that he's sick and people do irrational things when they're sick cuz they don't wanna die, but he took SOLDIERs— people who trusted him— and just completely disregarded them as people! And Kunsel and I crunched the numbers, I've killed enough humanoid clones to make up about as many SOLDIERs as he stole, but he just keeps getting more clones, so where are these people coming from?! Who are they, and what right does Genesis have to just throw them away like that?! And Banora! What did the people there do to him?! If it was his foster parents, then why the whole town! I checked every house there, there was nothing! I don't even know if he buried them or if he did something else with the bodies! I don't trust him not to have done something else! How can he treat people that way?!”
     Sephiroth swallowed, unable to look away from Zack's distressed expression.
     Because the boy had a point, didn't he? Sephiroth suspected both of them had been trying very hard not to think about it, but wasn't that all the truth? During the raid on Midgar where Angeal's clones had debuted, Sephiroth had slain... how many clones? Several dozen, at least. And Zack was the one most frequently dispatched to deal with any... related incidents, which was part of why the boy had voluntarily taken so many missions— to avoid having such things offloaded onto him while simultaneously searching for Angeal. The clones that had been SOLDIERs, the ones that had defected with Genesis... were most certainly all dead. And yet Genesis's numbers didn't seem to thin.
     No regard for life, for humanity. Taking as he saw fit and burying the rest.
     At some point, Genesis had become like Hojo.
     But before he could say anything, Zack sighed, hands dropping back to his sides as he shook his head. “Sorry, Seph. It's not fair of me to take that out on you.”
     “No,” he said swiftly, not willing to let it fester but unsure of how to fix it, “It's...”
     This time, he didn't move away when Zack reached out to touch him, letting the boy drag gentle fingers across his forearm. “Don't worry about it,” the young commander smiled, though the expression was strained, “I'm sorry I yelled like that. We're supposed to be finding your mom and here I am throwing a pity-party.”
     “Are the two issues not related?”
     Zack's face spasmed again, and the boy looked away. “Uh... well, I'm told I'm really naive, and that I shouldn't think too hard on ethics and morality and... stuff. So... I dunno. C'mon, I bet Angeal and Vincent are wondering what happened to us!”
     With that, Zack ran ahead.
     Sephiroth looked to Grimoire. The dead doctor's expression was grim, but he met his gaze head-on.
     “What do I do?” he asked softly, fists clenching.
     “At this point, I can't tell you that,” Grimoire replied evenly, “I can only advise you to do what you think is right.”
     “But what if I don't know?”
     The man's expression softened, and he nodded after Zack. “Then at least you seem to have someone willing to let you lean on them. You can talk to Zack. Talk to Domino. For as long as I'm here, you can talk to me.”
     Quietly, Sephiroth began to follow after Zack. As always, Grimoire's steps were silent behind his.

Chapter Text

     The run to the caldera took longer than predicted, the sun already set by the time they arrived— but not for the fault of their party. Grimoire truly didn't seem to need to worry about stamina, and his incorporeal form meant he didn't need to worry about obstacles, even though he lagged behind a little due to not having any enhancements to propel him through the air. Vincent kept pace easily, with Zack commenting several times that he hated the idea of a Turk able to potentially outpace a SOLDIER. Angeal largely scouted ahead, and that was where most of the time went— avoiding monsters or people. The rest merely went to checking that they were on the right path after adjusting so's not to fight any wild beasts.
     If Sephiroth was on his own, he imagined he would've cut straight across.
     But he wasn't, and he was rather loathe to just... go ahead. It felt, maybe a bit irrationally, like if he strayed too far, Zack would leave. He didn't know where he stood with Vincent, but the promise of tales about Lucretia— ones Grimoire likely didn't know— was magnetizing when combined with that irrational fear.
     However, time of arrival aside, they did make it.
     Which left the question of how to get down.
     “I bet we could jump it.” Zack proposed, peering down into the darkness below. The moon was waning, and so the light offered was weak. Sephiroth could make out a small copse of trees around a lake below, with a waterfall to the south.
     “Zack.” Angeal said stiffly.
     “What? It's about as deep as the plate is high, and if I can jump the plate, then it's fine, right?” the boy asked.
     Grimoire looked lost. Vincent was blinking, as if trying to visualize Midgar in the caldera. Sephiroth, for his part, merely asked, “And why, exactly, do you know you can jump the plate?”
     After a moment, Zack amended, “Okay, I can fall from the plate—”
     “Zack!” Angeal half-yelled in a scandalized tone, eyes wide in the dark.
     “You're the one who threw me!”
     Sephiroth looked to Angeal. For a moment, his friend looked lost, but then a sort of horrified realization seemed to creep over the man. “You fell?!”
     “There wasn't anything to grab onto! And I hit my head!” Zack nodded, bouncing as he rubbed demonstratively at his temple.
     As Angeal made a pained, strangled noise, Grimoire leaned over and murmured, “Do I want to know?”
     “I don't think I want to know,” Sephiroth replied quietly, “And I'm their commanding officer.”
     “No one is jumping,” Angeal declared loudly, reaching out to grab Zack by his sword-harness, “I'll take you down one at a time!”
     Sephiroth opened his mouth to point something out, but Angeal had already taken off. So instead he turned to Vincent. The Turk cocked his head, ruby eyes bright in the night.
     “Dr. Valentine can't stray too far from me, nor can he physically interact with us. I think he and I have no choice but to jump.”
     “Aah.” Grimoire said with an audible grimace from behind him.
     After a moment, Vincent nodded.
     Sephiroth looked to the dead doctor. Grimoire didn't look thrilled, but murmured, “I suppose we better, then.”
     “We better do it before Angeal returns.” Sephiroth sighed, advancing to the very edge of the caldera. Grimoire sighed as well, coming after him.
     “I'm already dead,” the doctor muttered, “Can't get much worse— and you're sure you'll be fine?”
     Looking down, Sephiroth reasoned, “If Zack can fall from the plate of Midgar with a head injury and survive, I should be able to intentionally jump in perfect condition and land smoothly.”
     “... Right. I'm going to close my eyes.”
     “On three,” Sephiroth offered, earning a soft huff as Vincent wandered over with his head tipped, “One— three.”
     He didn't jump so much as he just stepped off. The air whipping past had him closing his eyes as well, so he wasn't able to judge how far to the ground it was. He just had to trust that he was strong enough to withstand the impact. It was... slightly terrifying. Sephiroth knew he was capable of performing feats few others were, but it was different like this—
     “Seph?!”
     That made his eyes open, just in time for Angeal to grab him by the back of his coat, wings beating furiously and face incredulous.
     “Down!” he barked. “The doctor!”
     Cursing, Angeal tugged Sephiroth close and pulled into a dive. He vaguely heard Zack shriek in alarm as they reached the ground, Angeal releasing him so that he had to roll to his feet. Instantly, Sephiroth tossed his hair aside and began scanning for Grimoire—
     With an unsettling silence, the doctor landed roughly in front of him, close enough to chill his nose.
     “Dr. Valentine?!” both Sephiroth and Angeal demanded as Zack pranced about anxiously.
     “Not the most pleasant experience...” Grimoire muttered, getting slowly to his feet. “But... I seem to be no worse for wear...”
     “Is he okay? You guys aren't saying anything, what happened?” Zack asked.
     “He's fine—”
     “Why did you jump?!” Angeal half-yelled, running a hand through his hair. “I was coming back up to get you!”
     “Because you can't carry the doctor, and he can't get too far from me,” Sephiroth replied as Zack let out such a large sigh of relief that he fell into a crouch, “But if you wouldn't mind fetching Vincent—”
     There was a muted thump behind him. Angeal looked vaguely murderous as Zack lost his balance and tumbled backwards in surprise.
     “Sephiroth—”
     “The doctor wants to know if you're alright, Vincent.”
     Turning around, he found the scarlet-clad Turk rising to his feet and brushing himself off. After a moment, Vincent seemed to shrug, commenting, “It was rougher on the knees than I expected.”
     “Okay, but!” Zack declared, drawing everyone's attention before Angeal could continue with his scolding. “We're down! So now what?”
     Sephiroth turned to the dead doctor. Nodding slightly, Grimoire turned and headed towards the waterfall. As Sephiroth followed him, the other three trailed after as well.
     He couldn't help but look over the caldera as they walked. It didn't seem as untouched as Grimoire had described it, but he supposed that was to be expected. A Shinra expedition had come and gone, after all, even if it had been twenty-five years. But it was still peaceful, if a bit eerie. There was a feeling of something being missing, almost. Birdsong, maybe? That might've been it, Sephiroth reflected. The place seemed like it would be a haven for animal life, yet he didn't hear any. Maybe it would be better in the daylight.
     “Back here.” Grimoire said, drawing his attention back. The dead doctor was pointing to... a nook, of some kind, behind the waterfall they were approaching.
     “Behind the waterfall.” he relayed to Zack and Vincent.
     “Really? That's so cool!” Zack gasped, grinning brightly in the darkness. “I thought caves behind waterfalls were just something made up for stories!”
     “It's a natural process caused by erosion,” the doctor huffed in amusement, “The water in the soil washes away anything weak and loose, while anything calcified remains. Though actually finding one more than a small overhang is quite rare.”
     Angeal relayed this fact to Zack. The boy practically vibrated with excitement, declaring, “I'm gonna check behind every waterfall now!”
     Sephiroth couldn't help but smile a bit at the young SOLDIER's enthusiasm, even as they climbed up into the range of the waterfall's spray. The water was cold as it misted over them. The doctor waited for them to catch up, then led the way into the shadows behind the cascade.
     It did not feel like a cave that they stepped into. Sephiroth could hear Zack's breath catch as they properly entered the space. He couldn't put a reason to why. Perhaps it was the gentle blue glow illuminating the space, as if a great light was shining from below the water across the floor of the cave. It could've been the seemingly intentional structure, almost like a grand ballroom. Or the large, uncut mako-crystals that lined the walls and bristled from the ceiling.
     Or, perhaps like Sephiroth, Zack's gaze had gone instantly to the wall across from them, where there was a small dias of sorts, leading up to a woman encased in crystal, eyes closed as if asleep.
     A woman with long brown hair, tied up with a yellow ribbon, wrapped in an elegant and almost ethereal white dress, with pearls around her throat and ankles.
     “Lucretia,” Vincent called hoarsely, the first of them to recover and react, stepping forward with the clear intent to cross the cave—
     A voice rang out, pained and frantic, echoing off the crystal, crying, “Don't come!”
     The Turk staggered to a stop. Sephiroth couldn't quite tell, but he thought the man's chest was heaving under his cloak, eyes glazed with pain and confusion.
     “I'm sorry...” the voice wept. His mother's voice, Sephiroth realized, even though there wasn't a hint of movement from within the crystal. If they were all mako-crystals, then... was she effectively dead, her conscience scattered across the cave thanks to the way it was structured?
     He was so close to her, yet was he already too late? Was this better or worse than finding a mangled corpse in Hojo's lab? It felt worse, because at least if that had been the case, he could've turned on the man, could've taken vengeance. But like this, he couldn't do anything, and that burned in a way that he couldn't describe—
     “Seph,” someone whispered, “Breathe.”
     Blinking, he found Zack leaning close, eyes wide with concern and hands hovering uncertainly.
     “Lucretia,” Vincent was saying, and he hadn't known the man long but Sephiroth could hear the note of pleading, “He's here. He's right here.”
     The Turk turned around, and Zack and Angeal both put hands on his back, gently nudging him forward. Grimoire stood off to the side, alternating between watching silently and examining the cave. It felt like the air itself was holding it's breath as Sephiroth slowly came to stand beside Vincent, water sloshing quietly around his feet.
     Looking up at the crystal on the dias, Sephiroth quietly asked, “Mother?”
     The silence was deafening. It weighed on him, but he couldn't bring himself to look away, willing that voice to ring out again. Even if it was to reject him, to say she didn't want him, because at least then he would know. Even if she rejected him, he thought, he would be... maybe not happy, but content, because he would have the knowledge that she existed, and she acknowledged him, no matter how negatively.
     “... Baby?”
     He lurched forward several steps. A bit louder this time, more certainly, he repeated, “Mother.”
     For a moment, it felt like everything was frozen, nothing happening.
     Zack shrieked in alarm as the crystal suddenly melted, pouring down into the basin of the cave. Sephiroth didn't look, admittedly throwing a bit of an elbow when he heard Vincent gasp, launching himself forward. Lucretia— his mother— dropped from where she had been suspended, but Sephiroth didn't let her hit the ground, catching her by the waist and gently lowering her down as she gasped. Despite the crystal having dissolved into watered-down mako, she didn't seem to be wet at all. Forcing himself to let go and step back, Sephiroth found himself holding his breath as he waited for her verdict.
     Her eyes fluttered open as if she'd been asleep. Maybe she had been. He could hear commotion behind him, Angeal no doubt scooping Zack up and bundling him away from the surge of mako in the water. But Sephiroth didn't pay that any mind, his gaze narrowed down solely to Lucretia as hazel eyes opened and fixed on him.
     “... Sephiroth,” she whispered, stepping shaking forward and lifting trembling hands, “Is it... is it you?”
     “It's me.” he replied, dipping his head so it'd be easier for her to reach— she was a head shorter than him, about the same height as Hojo.
     Her hands were cold as she gently cupped his face, eyes searching for something. He didn't say anything, hoping that whatever she was looking for, the results were favorable.
     “... She doesn't have you,” his mother breathed, tears welling up in her eyes, “She really doesn't— Sephiroth?”
     “Mother.” he answered, wondering if the tears were good or bad.
     “She doesn't have you,” she repeated before asking, “You're sane?”
     The question had him blinking, but all the same he replied, “Last I checked, yes.”
     She made an ugly, choked snort, face twitching in a smile before she threw her arms around his neck, tugging him close. Sephiroth couldn't keep himself from wrapping his own arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She didn't smell like anything, a layer of mako tang hiding anything that might've possibly been intrinsically ‘Lucretia.’ But under the chill, he could feel her warming up, and as she pressed her face into his shoulder and shuddered with sobs, he felt tears dampen his throat.
     “She doesn't have you,” his mother wept, though it sounded more relieved than questioning this time, “That monster didn't take my baby from me!”
     Sephiroth wasn't sure who ‘she’ was, but with how ‘she’ had made his mother cry, he figured some degree of hatred was warranted. He let himself tighten his hold slightly, murmuring, “Mother,” into Lucretia's hair.
     She shuddered, beginning to chant, “My baby, my baby,” and swaying slightly in his grip.
     The cave around them was silent save for the gentle rocking of water not yet settled. He knew Grimoire was probably still there, bound to him, but suspected that either Angeal or Vincent had herded the other two out, and he was grateful for the moment of privacy. It felt like his eyes were beginning to burn with his mother's cries, itching in a way they hadn't for years.
     “Mother,” he whispered in reply to her chanting, her fingers combing sloppily through his hair, “Mother... Mother...”

Chapter Text

     “How did you find me?” his mother asked quietly, petting over his hair.
     “... It's a long story.” he replied, just as quiet.
     She had reigned in her tears, by this point, though it seemed exhaustion had overcome her, and she'd slipped down to the ground. Sephiroth had followed her, so now the two of them knelt on the damp dias. Lucretia leaned against him, one hand holding his and the other gently smoothing down his hair. Looking over the cave, he could see Grimoire pacing about with a slight frown— but at the moment, his mother was more important.
     She hummed in response to his answer. “I'm sorry I wasn't there for you,” she murmured, sounding tired, “I—”
     “I didn't know you existed,” Sephiroth cut her off, shaking his head, “And once I learned that you did, I thought you'd been killed. I... hoped. But it felt far more likely that Hojo had killed you.”
     Her expression when she looked up at him was sad. “You can be angry at me,” she told him, “I deserve it. For leaving you the way I did. I should have tried harder to get you back.”
     “He would have killed you.” Sephiroth pointed out, his hand clenching a bit at the thought. She winced, and he quickly eased his grip on her fingers.
     “I'm still sorry.” she murmured.
     For a moment, he was quiet, not sure how to respond. Eventually, however, he settled on, “Thank you.”
     Lucretia hummed, the hand that had been combing his hair coming up to gently tug at his head. He followed the pull, letting her bow his head. Reaching up, she placed a kiss on his temple.
     Sephiroth had overheard, at least once, various troopers and other such employees complaining about how it was embarrassing to be kissed by their mothers. He promptly decided that they were all insane and had no clue what they were talking about.
     “Ah— wasn't Vincent with you?” his mother asked. When he looked up, he found her to be looking about the cave with a vaguely confused expression.
     “I imagine either he or Angeal decided it best to give us some privacy.” Sephiroth hummed, getting to his feet and offering her his hand.
     “Angeal?” she asked, letting him pull her up.
     “A friend of mine— though our relationship as of late has been... strained. He and his mentee accompanied me on my search for you.”
     His mother nodded, looking both relieved and thoughtful.
     Grimoire noticed when Sephiroth scooped Lucretia up— there was still mako in the water, no matter how diluted, and she was hardly dressed appropriately to wade through chilled, knee-high water at night— and followed them out of the cave. Outside, it seemed that Angeal had summoned a few clones with more provisions than Zack's pack, and was sitting by a small fire. Vincent was standing by the edge of the lake, and it looked like Zack had fallen asleep with a hand clenched in Angeal's pant-leg. Angeal seemed to hear when Sephiroth let his mother down, and lifted his head to look up towards them. As they moved to join him, Vincent noticed, drifting closer as well, and Angeal nudged Zack awake.
     “Huh— oh,” the boy yawned, rolling onto his belly and propping himself up on his elbows, “Hi, Seph's mom. Gosh you look like him.”
     “Zack...” Angeal sighed, shaking his head.
     Lucretia, for her part, laughed. “Hello to you as well.”
     “Are you alright?” Vincent asked quietly, laser-focused on the woman.
     She nodded. “I'm a bit tired— I hadn't planned to leave there, after all. But I should recover with time.”
     “It's not a lot, but I have a few instant meals.” Angeal offered.
     Sephiroth coaxed Lucretia into sitting. Before he could get his coat off to protect her from the cool night air, Vincent had already stepped forward and swept his cloak around her, retreating towards the edge of the light again once he had. Without the cloak, he looked much leaner, though Sephiroth couldn't say how much of that was the shadows. Angeal passed around styrofoam cups of instant noodles and plastic forks, prompting Zack to sit up properly as Grimoire sat off to Sephiroth's side.
     “So,” Lucretia prompted as they ate, “Do I get to know the long story on how you found me?”
     Angeal and Zack both instantly looked go him.
     Putting down his cup, Sephiroth confessed, “I originally wasn't searching for you. I was searching for the research of your mentor, Dr. Grimoire Valentine.”
     Lucretia's face clouded with confusion, and she shook her head. “Why? I'll be happy to tell you everything I know, but...”
     “Because a while back, I woke up to him haunting me,” Sephiroth answered, making her eyes go wide, “Only Angeal and I can see or hear him. He's unable to interact with anything or stray too far from me, but neither of us has a clue how or why that came to be. The only theory we were able to come up with was that there might be a connection between his research and the SOLDIER treatments that made me, but upon investigating we found his research to be missing.”
     His mother's mouth opened and closed a few times. It looked like she was trying to figure out what to say.
     “Tell her,” Grimoire advised, making him turn his head, “That my death was hardly her fault, and if she says anything to imply such a thing, that I will scold her.”
     Turning back, Sephiroth relayed, “He says not to blame yourself for his death, on pain of being lectured.”
     Zack snorted, Angeal gave a crooked grin, and Vincent cocked his head. Lucretia blinked, then squared her shoulders and asked, “Where is he?”
     Leaning back, Sephiroth gestured to the space next to him. Nodding, Lucretia fixed her gaze... actually rather close to where the doctor's head was. “You can't lecture me,” she said firmly, “I'm not a little girl any more.”
     “Oh no,” Zack declared, shaking his head so vigorously he nearly spilled his noodle-cup, “Don't challenge that— I said that to Angeal once, worst mistake of my life!”
     Angeal snorted, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair as Lucretia giggled. However, she quickly grew serious once more, asking, “What has your search yielded so far?”
     Sephiroth shook his head. “Nothing more than speculation. The doctor has been able to tell me the abstract, in essence, of his work, but Hojo seems to have been one step ahead everywhere we turn. The files are completely gone from the company archives, even down to your identity. The journal that Vincent inherited was gone through and had any pages related to the work removed before it was classified. Even your file was gutted— the only reason either of us found you to be related to Hojo at all beyond your graduation was that the marriage certificate had become stuck to the back of your birth certificate, likely causing it to be overlooked.”
     “Hm... I imagine part of that was in effort to keep you from learning about me,” Lucretia mused, drawing Vincent's cloak tight about her shoulders, “He became... obsessed with Jenova— ah, do you know—”
     “Dr. Valentine told us a bit, yes. Gast's fossil.” Sephiroth nodded.
     But Lucretia shook her head. “No. Not a fossil. She's still alive, just... dormant. Like a tardigrade deprived of water and oxygen. We just never found the right conditions to wake her up, thankfully.”
     “‘Thankfully?’” Zack echoed, brow furrowing. “But I thought this was an Ancient?”
     “No,” Lucretia said forcefully, shaking her head furiously, “Jenova is the one who killed the Cetra. And if she wakes up, she'll destroy humanity, too— and she wants to use my baby to do it.”
     Silence fell over the small camp.
     “... That's what you meant, then,” Sephiroth guessed, sneaking a hand into his mother's lap, “When you said she didn't have me?”
     Lucretia nodded, not meeting his gaze. She looked ashamed. “I... didn't think I would get so attached. It was just an experiment, at first. So I consented to having the Jenova cells injected— into me and the embryo. But then...”
     As she trailed off, Vincent piped up, “He kicked,” from the shadows.
     Lucretia nodded, looking on the verge of tears.
     So at first, she hadn't truly wanted him, then? He had been a means to an end, a research project... but that had changed. From the sound of things, perhaps she hadn't quite considered him ‘alive’ until he had kicked, and given the strong opinions her mentor had on human experimentation...
     “And then,” Lucretia all but whispered, “She started talking to me.”
     “The dormant thing?” Zack frowned.
     Sephiroth's mother nodded, staring at the fire— or something beyond it. “I can hear her, sometimes. And the concentration and integration of cells in my body is just enough that she won't allow me to die. Around the time Sephiroth's fetal movement first became noticeable, she began to talk to me... show me things... my baby, left alone in the world as he razed it, smiling her smile as he devoured everything...”
     “I'm not alone any more,” Sephiroth said firmly, pretending he didn't see Angeal flinch, “And I've little desire to do something as mad as that.”
     “Sephiroth.”
     He held up his hand, turning towards the dead doctor.
     After a moment, Grimoire lifted his head to look at him. “Please ask her what happened to the protomateria and the stagnant mako overflow.”
     Blinking, he relayed the request to his mother—
     Who cringed, eyes flicking to Vincent. “... Without your name, doctor, the project was closed. Funding was revoked, materials confiscated... I barely held on to the materia. I think it was Hojo who went back to the cave and took the corrupted mako away, after...”
     “After he shot me.” Vincent said grimly.
     So it hadn't been a lab accident at all, then?
     “I don't need to be able to see or hear him, so on Doc's behalf, Hojo shot you?!” Zack half-yelled in a scandalized tone, rising up onto his knees.
     “Dr. Valentine says thank you.”
     “Vincent protested the project from the moment it began,” Lucretia murmured, head bowed, “But he didn't do anything until I began to lose my nerve. He demanded that Hojo shut the project down, but Hojo didn't... appreciate. That. If I hadn't— Vincent, I'm so sorry...”
     “It's in the past.” the Turk said stonily, ruby eyes turning away.
     Lucretia swallowed a few times, then confessed, “I used Vincent to complete the thesis.”
     “Lucretia!” Grimoire barked, making Sephiroth twitch in surprise. He hadn't once heard the man raise his voice.
     Having seen him react, his mother murmured, “He's furious, isn't he?”
     The dead doctor sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He certainly looked cross, but Sephiroth didn't say anything yet. Both he and Angeal watched the man carefully.
     “... I'm disappointed.” the doctor finally said, voice somewhat clipped. “I can understand that desperate occasions call for desperate measures, and I appreciate that she didn't allow Vincent to die, but I am immensely disappointed in her.”
     After a moment, Sephiroth nodded and relayed the words to his mother.
     She nodded, looking tired. “He has every right to be. But... I don't know what Hojo could have possibly wanted with the stagnant mako. I don't know who else could have just... taken it. But he showed no interest in our research until he took Vincent from me, and by that point I was too far along in the pregnancy to do anything... And once I had recovered from the birth, he started revoking my access to things. Eventually, I was all but run out of Shinra on counts of mental instability. I couldn't save Vincent, Sephiroth, or even myself...”
     “But why would someone steal, uh, stagnant... corrupted mako?” Zack piped up, arms crossed over his chest and head cocked to the side. “Like... what could that do that normal mako can't?”
     Sephiroth held his hand up again as Grimoire cleared his throat.
     “It's a very long story, and it's very late. We can tell it in the morning. For now, rest.”
     Zack protested the idea, but after Sephiroth repeated the doctor's order, Lucretia's jaw cracked with her yawn. Sephiroth couldn't help but chuckle at the sheepish look on her face, which earned him a pout. With that, it was settled.
     Through what Sephiroth suspected was sheer force of will, Zack managed to wrangle Angeal to the ground, collapsing on top of the man as if to pin him down. After the revelation about the boy getting thrown off the plate, it was... a rather dastardly move. Already, Sephiroth could see Angeal's eyes glazing over as the man tried to figure out how to safely move the boy without waking him.
     Vincent paced around with Angeal's clones, the lack of his cloak making him even more wraithlike and easily lost in the shadows. Sephiroth wondered if the man intended to sleep at all. Had he slept the previous night? Or... did he even need to, since he had somehow survived twenty years in a coma without any medical assistance or support? Did it have to do with ‘the thesis?’
     Meanwhile, he found himself curling around his mother as Grimoire sat by the fire and tracked Vincent through the shadows with his eyes. His own gaze quickly settled on Lucretia as she fell asleep, bundled up in Vincent's cloak and pillowed on his arm. His free hand was clutched in hers, as if she was afraid of waking up to find him gone. Which was... a relief, in a sense? That his mother was just of afraid of losing him as he was of losing her? Especially after learning...
     Sephiroth studied her face as he reflected on what she'd said, earlier.
     He had been, at one point, just an experiment to her. But she had gotten attached. Because he had kicked. Because he gave her indication, it sounded like, that he was alive. And she had wanted him. Lost her nerve, she said. But Hojo had blocked her. Called her mentally unstable and convinced people within the company to cut her off. Left her alone with the telepathic voice of a monster.
     Shifting carefully, so's not to wake his mother, Sephiroth curled his arm so he could press his palm to her back. Her heart thudded under his fingertips, steady and even.
     ... Genesis killed both his parents over far less.

Chapter Text

     The trip back to Nibelheim took much longer. For starters, there was the issue of getting out of the caldera— even with Angeal shuttling most of the party up, Sephiroth and Grimoire had no choice but to climb the path Lucretia revealed. And after that, there was the actual trek back. Lucretia was unenhanced, as well as wearing... not the most practical clothes, for being outdoors.
     But, on the other hand, it meant they had plenty of time to listen to Lucretia explain things, with a few interjections offered by Grimoire and broadcast by Sephiroth.
     The protomateria and stagnant mako overflow were two things discovered in the cave by Grimoire and Lucretia. The two believed these items to be related to the translated Cetran tablet describing ‘Chaos’ and ‘Omega.’ The two had believed that Chaos served as a sort of herald for Omega, but hadn't been entirely certain of the purpose of the two. Lucretia claimed that the strongest theory, one she'd more or less proven, was that Chaos and Omega both were WEAPONs of the planet. The cave had originally been the place where Chaos was to be ‘born,’ through the corrupted mako overflow and protomateria.
     Hojo had apparently whisked away the pool of stagnant mako, but Lucretia had used the protomateria to save Vincent's life after he was shot. The man now effectively was Chaos, apparently, though the Turk had looked uneasy during the entire branch of discussion. Sephiroth suspected there were things Lucretia didn't know about the end results of the procedure, or that Hojo had done something after the fact. He resolved to try speaking to the Turk alone later.
     “But then you know something about, uh... genetic splicing and cloning and whatnot, right?” Zack asked during one of their breaks.
     After a moment, Lucretia blew air out of her cheeks. “Why do you ask?”
     “Because of Angeal and Genesis.” Sephiroth supplied.
     “Ah.” his mother nodded, turning to examine Angeal. The man in question stared evenly back. Fingers drumming against her thigh, Lucretia asked, “Genesis?”
     “He's begun to degrade on a genetic level. His mutations are far less stable than mine. Hollander is looking for a cure—”
     “Hollander? The only reason he got anywhere was that his fiancé let him put his name on her work!” Lucretia scoffed, shaking her head. “And she left him two years before I had Sephiroth!”
     “Hollander had a fiancé?” Zack asked, head tipping to the side.
     Lucretia nodded. “I only met her once. She was a few years older than me, and came from the Mideel area— Gillian, I think Dr. Valentine— what's wrong?”
     Angeal had frozen, breath coming quick. Zack was standing with his hands outstretched, visibly ready to lunge for the man. Sephiroth couldn't deny that he was braced to do similar.
     “My mother,” Angeal said, voice soft and choked, “Was engaged to Hollander?”
     Lucretia sucked a breath in. Vincent made a soft noise of understanding, and Grimoire looked grim.
     According to Zack, the revelation that Angeal's mother had been a Shinra scientist had not been kind. For it to be followed up by this... he was scared for how his friend would react.
     As if on cue, Angeal's wings snapped open.
     “No!” Zack screamed, lunging desperately. Sephiroth moved to join him—
     But hesitated.
     Instead, he turned and lunged for his mother, tucking her close against his chest, because Angeal was good, Angeal didn't attack people, but Angeal had left, had changed, had Sephiroth ever actually known either of them?
     Zack howled as powerful wingbeats faded away. Sephiroth kept his mother close, burying his face in her hair as the boy raged. Or perhaps mourned was the better word.
     “Why?!” Zack begged. Sephiroth didn't look at him. “Why can't he ever stay?! Why can't he let me help him?!”
     “... It's hard to process emotions around others, sometimes,” Vincent offered, “If information is... undesirable, or overwhelming, there may be a fear of lashing out physically against those around you.”
     “And I get that!” Zack cried as Lucretia's arms slowly crept up around Sephiroth's shoulders. “But he doesn't have to...! There's a perfectly good clump of trees over there! Or he could go ahead and wait for us! Why does he always just... leave me behind?!”
     “He needs you, baby.” his mother whispered. After a moment, she gave him a gentle squeeze, adding, “And I think you need him more than me right now.”
     Slowly, Sephiroth pulled away. Lucretia smiled sadly up at him, reaching on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Taking a deep breath, he turned towards Zack.
     “Zack—”
     The boy barreled through Grimoire and into him, making him stagger back several steps. His mother yelped in surprise, putting her hands on his back as if to brace him. Vincent stepped closer, but... but Zack wasn't fighting or struggling. Instead the boy seemed to be... hugging him, shoulders shaking and small, tortured noises escaping. Sephiroth looked around at the other three, lost on what to do. Lucretia mimed hugging back and petting the boy's hair, making Grimoire nod. Vincent seemed to be looking away in order to give them some measure of privacy.
     Hesitantly, Sephiroth let one arm settle around Zack's waist.
     “Why?” the boy whispered. “Aren't I enough? What'm I doin' wrong, Seph...?”
     Sighing, he shook his head and wrapped his other arm around Zack's shoulders. “I don't know.”
     “S'not fair...!”
     “... No. It isn't.”
     Eventually, Zack collected himself, pulling away and apologizing for causing a scene. Grimoire chided him, Sephiroth relaying a short lecture about the validity and importance of emotions. But still, the rest of the trip to Nibelheim was gloomy, even when Angeal's griffon appeared. It was late when they arrived, every house dark. Vincent suggested that rather than go to the inn, they simply go back to the manor. The griffon stayed outside this time.
     “I can try to work out some kind of treatment for the genetic degradation,” Lucretia said, breaking the long silence as they all sat around the table in the foyer, “It'll be hard without access to the individual in question, but I have some familiarity with how Jenova cells react to human. I can use my own blood as a sample, but I'll need a few others as well... Sephiroth—”
     “As much as you need.”
     She gave him a sad smile, nodding. Then she turned to Zack. “I'll likely ask to draw blood from you as well— you weren't part of the Jenova project, but you have undergone extensive genetic enhancements, so you'll help provide a baseline.”
     The boy blinked, then shrugged, saying, “Sure. I should, uh... probably head back to Midgar sometime tomorrow. I've got mission reports to file and whatnot. But we can do that before I leave.”
     Nodding again, Lucretia mused, “If the cloned griffon would allow it, a sample from it wouldn't hurt, either...”
     “I'll get it.” Sephiroth said firmly.
     “I'll take a look at the lab and start work tomorrow.”
     “Perhaps,” Grimoire said, prompting him to raise a hand, “While she gets set up, you should visit the town and see what in the way of provisions you can get. If you intend to stay here.”
     “What is it?” Vincent asked as Sephiroth lowered his hand.
     “If we're going to be here indefinitely, we'll require supplies. The doctor has suggested that be my main task for tomorrow.”
     “Aah,” Lucretia blushed, “Yes, that would be helpful.”
     “I'll do it,” Vincent volunteered, “My blood doesn't need to be drawn for the project, and your friend's clone is likely to be more comfortable with you.”
     After a moment, Sephiroth nodded in acquiescence.
     Lucretia's laugh suddenly cut through the room, prompting everyone to look at her as she shook her head. “I'm sorry,” she smiled ruefully, “It's just— figuring out how to work with suboptimal facilities, limited samples and materials, and little to no funding... it's so much like being a grad student all over again, I couldn't help but laugh.”
     “... Zack actually has connections to the Turks,” Sephiroth mused, looking to the boy in question, “With my name on it, I imagine he could convince them to smuggle us any materials you require.”
     Zack blinked a few times, then made an indignant squawk. “You want me to smooth-talk Tseng?!” the boy demanded, appalled. “No way! He'd definitely have my head! And I couldn't take advantage of Cissnei like that! It'd be rude!”
     “I've said it before, I'll say it again,” Grimoire advised with a fond-sounding huff, “Keep him.”
     “Either way,” Sephiroth continued, as if neither had spoken, “If funds of any sort are needed, we shouldn't hurt for them. My monthly stipend is considered rather large, but I've never had much to spend it on. As such, I have quite a bit set aside.”
     But his mother shook her head, lips pursed. “No, sweetie, I'm not going to ask you to spend your money like that. I can make do.”
     “I want to,” he defended, “They're my friends.”
     Even if he wasn't entirely sure that was the truth any more.
     But still, Lucretia's gaze softened, and she nodded. “Alright then. I'll let you know if there's anything I absolutely can't get by without.”
     For a minute, silence fell around them.
     It was broken by Zack sighing, looking caught between exhaustion and relief with a small smile. “It's actually happening, huh? A cure for Angeal and Genesis...”
     “I can't promise anything,” Lucretia warned, “But I'll certainly do my best.”
     That alone was already infinitely better than Hojo— and Hollander and Angeal's mother, unfortunately. But if her efforts yielded anything, Sephiroth resolved that he would be the one to hunt down and drag the other SOLDIERs back to receive treatment.

Chapter Text

     “The mayor?” Zack asked as Lucretia drew his blood.
     Sephiroth nodded. “He was a childhood friend of Dr. Valentine's. I would not have known to come to Nibelheim without his aid.”
     “And you just want me to say hi?” Zack hummed, head tipping.
     “Only if it doesn't put you out,” Sephiroth insisted, crossing his arms over his chest, “And to let him know the search has gone well.”
     After a moment, the boy nodded, smiling. “Sure, can do! Won't put me out at all, promise!”
     “There,” Lucretia cut in, removing the needle and applying a patch of gauze, “Don't remove that for at least thirty minutes. Stay sitting where I can see you for the next ten— here, drink some water. Once Vincent comes back, we'll get you something to eat as well.”
     “I'm fine, really, wasn't even all that much!” Zack protested, standing up.
     “Make him sit.” Grimoire ordered.
     “The doctor advises you follow her instructions.”
     Groaning, Zack flopped back down on the examination table. Lucretia made a noise of alarm at the sound of his head colliding with it, Grimoire wincing a bit. “This isn't fair! I'm being ganged up on!”
     “Enhanced or not, I drew a substantial amount of blood from you!” Lucretia scolded, disposing of the needle and tubing as she carried the packet over to the storage unit at the wall. “I'm going to tell Sephiroth all the exact same things I told you, so no, you're not being ganged up on, it's standard medical procedure!”
     Zack still groaned and kicked his feet rather dramatically. Sephiroth thought it was a bit of a shame that Zack had never gotten to meet Genesis on peaceful terms— while he couldn't see them tolerating each other for long periods of time, they certainly would've been able to match each other for energy and showmanship.
     “Sephiroth, can you sit over there, please?” his mother asked, drawing him from his thoughts. She was gesturing to the second examination table as she collected the needed materials for drawing blood.
     Quietly, he began the process of taking off his coat, gloves, and harness. Zack picked his head up just enough to peer curiously at him, but only for a second. Sufficiently bared, Sephiroth sat down with his right side presented to his mother, arm held straight with his wrist flipped up. As she came over, she paused, blinking.
     “Your right arm?” she asked doubtfully, looking up at him.
     “I'm left-handed.” he nodded.
     “Aah, I see. I wonder which side you got it from...” Lucretia hummed as she began tying the tourniquet and disinfecting his elbow.
     “It always displeased Hojo,” Sephiroth replied, “So I imagine it wasn't him.”
     She paused, looking confused. “Ho... jo...?”
     “Is something the matter?” he asked, Zack propping himself up again on the other table.
     After a moment, Lucretia swallowed, shaking her head. “Nothing, just... remind me to talk to Vincent, later.”
     Confused, Sephiroth exchanged a look with Zack and the dead doctor— or tried to, any way. Grimoire was frowning, brow furrowed as he stared at Lucretia.
     There was little discussion after that, Lucretia focused on drawing his blood and labeling it properly before storing it. As promised, she gave him the same instructions as Zack— though his head was pulled down so a kiss could be planted on his cheek, as if rewarding him for not fussing. He could easily picture Genesis mocking that as childish, but couldn't help the warm curl or pride in his chest.
     Yes, people who complained about their mothers' affections had no clue what they were talking about.
     With Zack growing restless on the other table, fidgeting and squirming, Lucretia gave Sephiroth a lecture on how to draw blood from the griffon outside. He'd already known most of what she told him, but still listened intently, repeating her words back when asked. She nodded with a satisfied expression when he did, and he felt that spark of pride again. He was finding he greatly enjoyed proving himself to her.
     Eventually, the ten minutes ran their course. Almost instantly, Zack ran back upstairs, making Lucretia roll her eyes and Grimoire chuckle.
     “Is there anything in particular that you need?” Sephiroth asked as he began putting his things back on.
     Grimacing a bit, his mother shook her head. “No— this place is really well-stocked and equipped. I feel like it got used some time in the last decade, too, with some of the updated tech. And... that admittedly worries me. Because aside from you and maybe Vincent, this lab should have no purpose.”
     “Something to do with the stolen mako, perhaps?” Sephiroth frowned.
     Both Lucretia and Grimoire shook their heads. “Nowhere to store it properly, not at that volume,” Lucretia said, “There are pipes that connect to the reactor here, but those are effectively water lines. Hardly storage.”
     “I see...” he mused, looking around. After a moment, he asked, “Have you looked through the library at all?”
     As his mother looked puzzled, Grimoire made a strangled noise. Turning his head, Sephiroth found the dead doctor to be... attempting to throttle the air?
     “What is he doing?” Lucretia asked, apparently catching his glance.
     “... Miming strangling someone. I think.”
     “Oh boy.”
     “Tell her to go take a look. I want to hear her opinion on some of those doctored textbooks.” Grimoire ordered vehemently.
     Nodding, Sephiroth relayed, “He encourages you to take a look.”
     His mother raised her eyebrows. Stripping off her gloves, she said, “Alright, I'll do that while you deal with the griffon, then...”
     Nodding back, he collected the equipment he would need for that task. As he left the lab, he could already hear her flipping though pages.
     Zack was waiting for him in the foyer, it appeared, munching on a ration bar. At the sight of him, the boy stood up and trotted over. Pausing, Zack asked, “Where's the doc?”
     “He already moved to my other side.”
     “Okay, cool— thanks, doc— but I should be heading out, I think.” Zack nodded as he followed Sephiroth out of the mansion.
     “That would probably be prudent, yes.” Sephiroth murmured, approaching the clone. It got to it's feet as he did, watching intently. He wondered if Angeal was peering at him from it's eyes.
     Zack rocked to and fro on his heels several times before quietly asking, “You gonna be okay?”
     “Why wouldn't I be?” Sephiroth asked.
     The boy's expression became conflicted. “Well... cuz of Angeal an' all.”
     “... I have my mother,” he replied as Grimoire watched the two of them, “And if all goes well, she may even yield us some headway into a cure for both of them.”
     Noticing Zack still looked conflicted, Sephiroth added, “And I don't have to file paperwork.”
     Even Grimoire chuckled as Zack snorted. Smiling once again, albeit softly this time, the boy nodded. “Okay. Keep me updated! If you need help bringing 'em in once your ma's had her breakthrough, just lemme know!”
     He dipped his head obligingly as the griffon shook it's feathers out. “I will.”
     “Enjoy your time off! Seeya!” Zack waved.
     Unable to keep from smiling, Sephiroth shifted the equipment to one hand so he could wave back as the boy headed out the gates. Once Zack was gone, however, he sighed, turning his attention back to the griffon. It cocked it's head to the side as he tucked the equipment against his hip.
     Reaching out, he grabbed it's beak with his free hand, yanking it down to eye-level. It hissed, feathers bristling and claws tearing at the earth, making Grimoire suck in a breath.
     “Listen, Angeal,” Sephiroth said, voice soft but flat, “My mother needs samples to work on your cure. So this clone is going to cooperate, no matter how much we take from it. And if my mother gets injured at all because of it— if she comes to collect material without me here, only for it to lash out— I genuinely do not know if I will be able to forgive you.”
     After a moment, the griffon's head pressed down submissively, beak clacking.
     “You have no guarantee he heard.” Grimoire said softly as Sephiroth began preparing to draw blood.
     “No,” he agreed with a sigh, carefully shaving a patch on the griffon's throat clean, “But I feel better.”
     He was genuinely proud of how he didn't jump or startle at the sudden chill on his shoulder.
     The griffon stayed still as stone while Sephiroth drew it's blood. He noted with interest that it was very dark, for blood— he wondered if it related to the genetic degradation at all. But with it behaving so well, the blood was drawn in no time. He labeled the packet the way his mother had instructed— the date, the contents of the packet, and the donor's name. As he collected the equipment to bring it back inside, Vincent entered the estate, carrying several bags. Sephiroth relayed that his mother wished to speak to the man later, earning a nod, then hurried to return to the lab. If he dithered too long, the blood would no longer be viable.
     As he returned to the lab, his mother came stomping out of the library. “I am going,” she declared, “To pluck that man like a chocobo!”
     “Is it that bad?” Sephiroth asked as he stored the blood packet alongside the other three.
     “Yes!” Lucretia and Grimoire both cried.
     “Aah.” he nodded in acquiescence, moving to put the rest of the equipment away.
     “He's made a butchery of several dozen scientists work! He's modified textbooks and journals to have blatantly incorrect information in them! Jenova isn't even relevant to some of those!” Lucretia half-yelled, reaching up to pull at her hair in frustration.
     “What's going on?” Vincent's voice called down the stairs. Sephiroth still had yet to get used to his moving silently— it was one thing for Grimoire to do it, the doctor was a ghost. And Vincent didn't even seem to be doing it consciously.
     “My father is a madman, as usual.” Sephiroth replied with a sigh.
     “Aah.” Vincent agreed.
     “Lucretia?” Grimoire asked, drawing his attention.
     Turning his head, he found that his mother had cringed, head down and hands wrung together. “Mother?”
     Taking a deep breath, Lucretia lifted her head. Her eyes flicked uncertainly between him and Vincent. “This... may not be the best time,” she cautioned, “But I don't know if there will ever be a good time...”
     “Lucretia?” Vincent asked, brow furrowing a bit as he stepped closer.
     She took another deep breath and looked directly at Sephiroth. “Hojo may have raised you, but he is not your father.”
     He blinked, then exchanged a look with each Valentine in turn. “What... do you mean...?”
     She was back to wringing her hands, gaze skating down to the floor. “We never... touched. That way.”
     It took him a moment to understand what she was saying. Frowning, he asked, “But then how...?”
     “I was already pregnant. I probably conceived only a week before we married.”
     “No.” Vincent said sharply, clearly figuring something out.
     “... Oh.” Grimoire said a split second later, soft and almost remorseful.
     Lucretia lifted her head again. She swallowed several times as her eyes flicked between Sephiroth and Vincent. With that, the answer began to dawn on him.
     “No.” Vincent repeated, staggering back a bit as Sephiroth's head snapped around.
     “Vincent—”

Chapter Text

     “Sephiroth, stop!” Grimoire yelled.
     He did, but not because the dead doctor had told him to. Rather, it was because he'd lost track of Vincent. Despite wearing a cloak redder than Genesis's favorite coat, the Turk had vanished into the surrounding woods. Even as he scanned the trees, he saw nothing, no indication of where Vincent— his father— had vanished to.
     “Sephiroth!” Grimoire yelled again, circling around in front of him with a concerned expression and a hand passing through his shoulder.
     “He ran from me.” Sephiroth said. His voice sounded a little breathy, even to him. He couldn't put a name to the knot of emotions in his throat.
     Grimoire's face crumpled. “Oh, Sephiroth...”
     “He ran from me,” he repeated, feeling something sting and prompt him to blink rapidly, “Why did he run? Does he— does he not want me? Am I not—”
     “Even,” Grimoire cut in suddenly, the chill of incorporeal hands cradling his jaw, “If Vincent does not want you, Sephiroth, I accept you.”
     The dead doctor's voice was so sincere, his gaze intent as the high noon sun rendered him nearly invisible, that Sephiroth couldn't quite smother a punched-out noise.
     “I accept you,” Grimoire repeated, “Even if he never does, you're a Valentine to me. You're a Valentine— my grandson.”
     His eyes were burning, making his vision blur. His throat felt tight.
     Bands of cold settled around his back, and a chill pressed itself against his front. For a moment, he thought Grimoire was stepping through him.
     “You're my grandson,” the dead doctor reiterated, voice soft in his ear, “And I'm very proud of you.”
     Oh.
     He was being hugged.
     His grandfather was hugging him.
     When was the last time he had cried?
     No more noises escaped, but Sephiroth didn't think he could do anything about the tears. He blinked, trying to unblur his vision. His hands shook as he lifted them— but he clenched them into fists, because he couldn't even hug his grandfather back.
     “It's alright.” Grimoire told him, and he felt a sweep of cold from the back of his head to midway down his back. “We'll figure it out.”
     He had a grandfather.
     His mind turned towards the shoebox tucked away in a dusty cardboard crate in the Turks' storage rooms. Suddenly, he itched to storm the tower and take it, hide it away in his apartment the way he had his mother's file. Not just the shoebox of Grimoire's old things, Sephiroth thought— even those things of Vincent's. Even those classified files that someone else had taken over after Vincent's apparent death. He wanted to tear them open, see what kind of work the man did.
     Because he didn't know if Vincent would tell him.
     Vincent ran from him.
     His fingers dragged through Grimoire's sides, cold as ice, as he desperately tried to grab at the dead man. Again, there was a chill sweep along his spine— Grimoire petting his back, he realized. Or at least, going through the motions of it. Holding himself, even though it had to ache to do so, just close enough to brush himself against Sephiroth without passing through. Perhaps if he was more put-together, Sephiroth could reciprocate. But at the moment, he just wanted to hold, rather desperately, yet there was nothing to hold.
     Vincent had run, and Grimoire was dead.
     A shaky breath escaped him as his hands dropped back to his sides, achingly empty. After a moment, the dead doctor— his grandfather— stepped back, looking him over.
     Vincent looked so much like Grimoire. For a moment, Sephiroth wondered if he would have looked like Vincent, had he been born... normal. Everyone said he looked like Lucretia, had her eyes and mouth and nose. But would his hair have been black? His eyes reddish? Or would he have had brown hair with hazel eyes? For a moment, he pictured himself with dark hair, not quite black, and hazel eyes with round pupils— and he ached.
     “Do you want to go back inside?” Grimoire asked gently, drawing him from the painful daydream. “Or do you want to stay out here a while longer?”
     He looked over his shoulder at the mansion. The griffon was peering around the gate, wings lifted as if prepared to fly away. His mother wasn't anywhere to be seen, probably still inside waiting to see who came back.
     “... I shouldn't leave her...” he said quietly, feeling inexplicably exhausted.
     “Alright,” Grimoire agreed, voice calm and steady, “Then we'll go back inside.”
     Even though it was decided, it took Sephiroth a minute more to unroot his feet and start walking. His grandfather didn't say anything or give any indications of impatience or annoyance. Grimoire just stayed by his side, quiet and... there, as much as he could be. The griffon watched them intently as they returned to the mansion, but Sephiroth couldn't muster the energy to care what it might be telling Angeal.
     His father ran from him.
     Lucretia was waiting as they came inside. It looked like she'd been pacing to and fro in the foyer, wringing her hands and rubbing her arms. At the sound of the door opening, she froze and looked up, eyes wide. When she saw him, a small, pained noise escaped her, and she hurried closer, arms outstretched. Still desperate to hold, Sephiroth met her halfway, letting her wrap her arms around his neck and gripping her waist in kind.
     “Oh, baby...” she murmured, pressing small kisses to the side of his face. “I'm sorry, sweetie, I thought you knew... I thought you both knew...”
     “Does he not want me?” Sephiroth asked brokenly.
     “No, baby, I'm sure he does— he loved you before I did, and he... he was so angry that we were going forward with the experiment, I thought for sure he knew...” Lucretia murmured, carding her fingers through his hair. “I'm sure he loves you— I just... scared him. I think.”
     He took a deep, shuddering breath, and his mother pressed one more kiss to his cheek before pulling back a bit. It was uncanny how similar the process was to what Grimoire had done outside.
     “And if he doesn't... then we'll kick him out for making both of us cry, okay?”
     Her suggestion was so childish and so... Zack-like that he couldn't quite keep from snorting. The noise made her smile, even if the expression was slightly teary.
     “How about you take the rest of the day for yourself, sweetie?” she suggested, reaching up to brush at his cheek. “It's been... a lot. And you were very helpful, getting the sample from the griffon and telling me about how bad the library is. You deserve to take the rest of the day off.”
     “It's not a bad idea,” Grimoire agreed from off to the side, “You've been working almost nonstop since we left Midgar.”
     He didn't think that was quite true. But with both his mother and grandfather urging him to, Sephiroth agreed. Lucretia volunteered to see what supplies Vincent had gotten and put together lunch for them, then shooed him towards the bedrooms on the second floor.
     The manor wasn't exactly clean, but it was far from a mess. There was dust and spiderwebs everywhere, but nothing was in any sort of disrepair. There didn't seem to be any mold growing anywhere, nor was there any indication of rats or mice. Getting one of beds cleaned had been as easy as snapping the sheets a few times and flipping the mattresses, though this did disturb moths. Eventually, Sephiroth imagined, they'd need to find a broom and actually sweep. But for the time being, he just sat on the bed in ‘his’ room. Grimoire seemed to study him for a while, then came close and knelt down.
     “Do you want me to tell you a bit about our family?” the dead doctor offered kindly.
     After a moment, Sephiroth swallowed, nodding.
     Smiling, his grandfather did just that.
     The Valentines, he learned, were an old family. Apparently they had a history as duelists, the source of the tradition of wielding firearms. If Sephiroth had been born to them, raised by Vincent, he likely would've been trained to shoot as well, and had stories similar to the one about the first time Vincent got to shoot. Also due to the history of dueling, the family crest had become a three-headed hound known as ‘Cerberus’— a symbol of death and the afterlife— while the family color was, unsurprisingly, red. However, as dueling had faded from popularity, the Valentines had turned their attentions elsewhere. Grimoire had been a scientist, his father a politician, his grandfather a stockbroker, his great-grandfather had run a vineyard and winery... Vincent had become a Turk, and Sephiroth would've most likely been given the freedom to choose whatever career he wanted.
     The doctor only stopped talking because Lucretia knocked. Despite the fact that she wouldn't have been able to hear anything, when she came in she asked, “What were you talking about?”
     “The Valentine family.” Sephiroth replied, accepting the plate she offered as she sat next to him. It looked like she'd put together hot sandwiches. After a moment of hesitation, he quietly asked, “Would you tell me about yours...?”
     His mother seemed to space out for a moment as she took a bite of her sandwich. Swallowing, she replied, “Well, my family isn't as, ah, linear as the Valentines. We were considered pretty poor, and my ancestry is a bit all over the place. When I was a little girl, my mother washed dishes at a restaurant, and my father was a handyman. Hmm... I think my grandma ran a bakery, and grew up in the Mideel area... I know my grandfather was a hunter from the northern continent before he had an accident that forced him to move to Kalm...”
     The difference between Grimoire's stories and Lucretia's was night and day. It was obvious, in a sense, that his grandfather had been drilled on his family history, while his mother had merely soaked up stories as they were told. Either way, he listened as raptly to her as he had to Grimoire, because... well, he'd never thought about such things before. They'd never been relevant— not something Hojo ever saw fit to share with him. But now... he had a mother. He had a father, even if the man didn't want him, and a paternal grandfather. He had ancestors. His paternal family had been duelists, and his maternal family had been blue-collar workers.
     Things like that had always belonged to Genesis and Angeal, but never him.
     But now they did.

Chapter Text

     It was, in a way, not a surprise to step out of the mansion the next morning and find Angeal.
     “Is everything okay?” the man asked, gaze flicking over to the side.
     Turning his head, Sephiroth was just in time to see a flash of crimson slip around the corner. From Grimoire's sigh, his grandfather had seen as well.
     “... Everything's fine.” he replied, looking gloomily away from the corner. At least now he knew Vincent had come back at some point.
     “What... happened?” Angeal asked hesitantly.
     For a moment, Sephiroth debated not telling him. Saying it was none of his business, or that he simply didn't want to share with someone who continually left him.
     Grimoire, however, made the decision for him, replying, “Lucretia revealed that we're related, yesterday.”
     Angeal blinked, looking between them. “You're...?”
     “He's my grandfather.” Sephiroth confirmed, stepping around Angeal so he could do what he'd come out to do.
     “Then...”
     “Vincent appears to have been overwhelmed by the revelation.” Grimoire sighed as Sephiroth began to stretch.
     There was a moment of silence, followed by Angeal moving about. From the sound of things, he was removing his sword from it's harness. Sephiroth didn't look as Angeal came to join him in his warmup.
     “... Sometimes people just need space after learning things like that.” Angeal said quietly.
     “Space is fine,” Sephiroth said stiffly, “As long as they come back.”
     Grimoire sighed. Angeal didn't say anything, but he thought he saw him flinch.
     “... You made Zack cry.” Sephiroth huffed.
     “... I know.”
     “Again.”
     “... Yeah.”
     He left it at that, hoping his disapproval got through. Zack was not his mentee, but due to circumstances, he was effectively Sephiroth's second-in-command. They hadn't known each other for very long, but he had every intention of— as his grandfather put it— keeping Zack.
     Clearing his throat awkwardly as he followed Sephiroth's lead, Angeal asked, “Does your mother still need samples?”
     “It probably wouldn't hurt.” Sephiroth replied.
     For a while after that, there was silence between them. The workout wasn't the most intense, but Sephiroth had woken up restless that morning. He'd known that it was most likely related to how he hadn't been, say, spending two hours a day in one of the VR training rooms. So he'd planned to exercise a little, then go see if Lucretia needed any help with her work. If not, he'd probably find a broom or something. The manor wasn't in a state of disrepair— to the contrary, it appeared well-maintained despite the dust, cobwebs, and moths. But it was dusty and stale. If his mother was going to be in such a place for an extended period of time due to her work, he wanted it to be some semblance of clean.
     Angeal followed him inside, giving Lucretia a bit of a fright. Apparently she'd been on her way out to let him know she was going down into the lab. At Angeal's offer of blood, she agreed readily, commenting that having a direct comparison between his and the clone's samples would be a huge help to the endeavor.
     “... You didn't say anything about Vincent.” Grimoire noted as Angeal and Lucretia went upstairs.
     “I didn't, did I.” Sephiroth murmured, glancing towards the windows as if he could catch sight of his father peeking in. Heaving a sigh, he said, “Remind me to tell her when they get done.”
     “Alright,” the dead doctor agreed, “Now what?”
     “... The place could use a sweeping.” he said, for some reason feeling... a bit silly.
     However, Grimoire just nodded, replying, “That it could. I'd suggest opening up all the windows and starting on the top floor, working your way down.”
     Relaxing, Sephiroth nodded back, declaring, “I should see if I can't find a broom, first.”
     “I'll help you look— sorry I can't be more help otherwise.”
     “It's alright.”
     It took a little poking around, but they did find a small closet of old and slightly sorry-looking cleaning supplies. Sephiroth didn't think he trusted the mop to hold together long enough to actually get anything done, and all the cleaners were either dried out and crusted on the insides of their bottles, or had a foul-smelling film on top. Even the polishing wax had separated and congealed in disgusting greasy lumps. Sephiroth proposed taking them out back to burn— but that resulted in a lecture from his grandfather on safe disposal of chemicals and other potentially hazardous materials. Yielding, he grabbed the bristly old broom and began opening windows.
     It was almost funny, he reflected, how... settled in he was getting. It felt very much like he was preparing to just live in the Shinra Manor. But as he thought on it, Sephiroth found he didn't mind the idea. It wasn't a bad location— a bit isolated, certain items would definitely need to be ordered from other locations with long-term living. But he'd already been somewhat isolated, living in his apartment in Midgar— going out to get things like groceries was a hassle. Normally someone else had to do the shopping for him to avoid mobs forming. And there was more space in the manor. Room for him, Lucretia, Vincent if he so chose, and plenty left over for any guests that might visit. The distance from town and the trees afforded a fair deal of privacy. There was a lab on the property, so Lucretia could work from home. There was plenty of room in the mountains to... stretch, essentially, without being mobbed.
     He may have to see about wrestling the rights to the property from Shinra, Sephiroth reflected.
     He was ripped from his domestic daydreaming by his PHS going off. Grimoire chuckled as he sighed, resting the broom in the crook of his arm as he pulled the device out and flipped it open.
     “Speaking.”
     “What,” an unwelcome voice demanded darkly, “Are you doing?”
     It felt almost like a stone had settled in his stomach. “Hojo.”
     Grimoire frowned, watching him closely.
     “Where are you? I doubt whatever you're doing requires this much of your time. Return to Midgar at once.” Hojo ordered.
     Sephiroth took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
     He was General Sephiroth, the most elite of SOLDIER, a living weapon with no equal.
     And Hojo was not his father.
     “... No.”
     There was a beat of silence.
     “No?” Hojo repeated incredulously.
     “No.” he confirmed, voice more certain and firm this time.
     The silence stretched longer this time. “What do you mean, no, boy?”
     “I'm busy,” he replied, somewhat evasively as he opened his eyes and looked to Grimoire, “With a... private project.”
     “A private project.” Hojo repeated flatly.
     Did he dare say it? It was technically the truth. And if he didn't give any details, then Hojo could use his imagination and fill them in as he saw fit. If he said it, they might be on borrowed time before the man came to interfere, but... there was also a chance of Hojo revealing something.
     “... I'm trying to find answers about Jenova.”
     “Jenova?” Hojo asked, something in his voice becoming eager.
     Sephiroth stayed quiet, hoping he wouldn't be probed too much.
     “I see— those Turks said you went west, didn't they? Taking off so suddenly, going such a place... to think you would be ready so soon!”
     That was... concerning. Sephiroth shifted the broom from his arm to the wall. Grimoire stepped closer, seeming to see something on his face.
     “Very well,” Hojo announced, sounding far too satisfied, “I look forward to the results.”
     And with that, the man hung up.
     “What's wrong?” Grimoire asked, within arm's reach and wearing a concerned expression.
     “... He wants me here.” Sephiroth said quietly, looking at his PHS with something curling unhappily in his chest. “He thinks I'm ready for something.”
     Grimoire took a deep breath.
     “Let's find Lucretia.”

Chapter Text

     “It must be his Reunion theory.” Lucretia said, chewing anxiously on the corner of her lip.
     “‘Reunion?’” Angeal echoed with a frown.
     Sephiroth's mother nodded. “He proposed this theory that Jenova cells are... drawn to each other, in a sense. That they all seek to one day converge. So a hybridized entity would be driven to seek out the original and... merge with it.”
     “... Is that why the three of us got along so well, at first?” Sephiroth asked quietly, looking down. “Why Angeal and Genesis seem to have no trouble finding me?”
     A pool of cold settled on his shoulder. He wished he could lean into Grimoire, the way he'd seen Zack rock into Angeal before.
     “... It... isn't impossible...” Lucretia said awkwardly.
     “I can see what you're about to say, Angeal, and I suggest you don't.” Grimoire ordered sternly.
     “But it's true, isn't it?” Angeal shot back.
     “Was that...”
     “The doctor.” Sephiroth told his mother as he lifted his head. She nodded, though she still looked confused.
     “None of you are monsters,” Grimoire said, moving to stand in front of Angeal with his arms crossed over his chest, “The biggest monster here is that boy Hojo. Not you, not Sephiroth, not your Genesis.”
     Sephiroth thought, after all the points Zack had made, that maybe the jury was out on Genesis. After the deserted SOLDIERs, Banora, and the question of where the new clones were coming from, it did paint... a lot from before in a vastly different light.
     But he didn't say anything, his grandfather continuing, “And if the three of you happened to coincidentally benefit as a side-effect from Hojo's madness, then I will personally be the first to consider it a small mercy and a huge plus. You're not monsters. Do I make myself clear?”
     Angeal didn't reply, just rubbed at his shoulder and looked away.
     Lucretia looked beseechingly to Sephiroth. He caved in and informed her, “Angeal has persistent concerns about his humanity, and whether or not he— we classify as monsters or not. Dr. Valentine has maintained a stance that we are not.”
     “You really aren't,” she agreed, shaking her head, “If you're basing your definition of ‘monster’ on nonhuman DNA and unique abilities, then we can consider the Ancients monsters as well, can't we?”
     “That's different.” Angeal defended with a disapproving look.
     Lucretia crossed her arms, tipping her chin back. “Is it really, though? The Cetra, as far as we can tell, were largely— if not completely— humanoid in structure. Chances are they lived alongside humans, possibly even interbreeding with them! But they weren't human. They could cast magic without materia, speak to the Planet itself, and coax the world around them to change. If we were to describe the abilities of a Cetra without bringing up their appearance, they certainly sound rather frightening, don't they? A child might illustrate such a creature as something between a tonberry and a behemoth!”
     Sephiroth didn't know if he'd ever seen Angeal rendered so thoroughly speechless, mouth opening and closing awkwardly. Grimoire was nodding as if in approval, while Lucretia stared Angeal down. The man looked to him, as if for support, and he admitted, “She has a point.”
     His mother made a triumphant noise, throwing a small smirk Angeal's way before sobering up. “But if Hojo is planning something with Reunion... then the main Jenova specimen must be stored somewhere here, on the western continent.”
     “Where would that be, though? Based on the journals you found to be accurate, it's not a small creature, and requires large amounts of mako to keep it perfectly preserved. There aren't very many facilities with such capabilities on this continent.” Sephiroth frowned.
     “I can think of one.” Grimoire said darkly.
     At the same time, almost as if she heard her mentor, Lucretia went pale. “The reactor.” she whispered.
     It took a moment for her words to sink in. But once they did, he realized she was right. The Mount Nibel reactor was unmanned, an abandoned prototype. It was a remote location, in the middle of territory often claimed by wolves and dragons, so most people would be disinclined to venture too near it. A large facility, with no people, and easy access to massive quantities of raw, filtered, and treated mako alike. If Sephiroth was going to stash a preserved biomass somewhere, the Nibel reactor would certainly make the top of his list.
     Lucretia suddenly lunged forward, grabbing his hands. The reflexive squeeze he gave in turn had to leave bruises, but she didn't seem to notice, instead beseeching, “You can't go up there! If you go up there, she might take you! Please, baby, promise me you won't go anywhere near it!” with wide, frantic eyes on the verge of tears.
     It was easy enough to say, “I won't.”
     “Promise me!”
     “I promise.” Sephiroth readily agreed.
     Seeming to just barely swallow a sob, his mother released his hands and all but collapsed into his arms. “I can't lose you again,” she whispered raggedly, “Not when I just got my baby back...”
     Clearing his throat and shuffling his feet, Angeal suggested, “Would having an original sample help? With the cure?”
     After a moment, Lucretia collected herself. Not, however, without pulling Sephiroth's head down to kiss his cheek. Swiping a hand over her eyes, she replied, “I imagine so. However, I'm not going to send either of you boys to collect such a thing. Not with a risk of her taking you. I'll have to go myself.”
     “Absolutely not.” Sephiroth said staunchly, shaking his head.
     “I'll be fine,” she defended with a frown, “Jenova can talk to me and prevent me from dying, but she can't control or influence me.”
     “There are threats other than Jenova.” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.
     “He certainly takes after her like that.” Grimoire seemed to comment to Angeal.
     “As far as I know, he's only started acting that way since you appeared.” Angeal replied quietly.
     Lucretia huffed, crossing her arms back. “We don't have any other options.”
     “What about Vincent?” Angeal cut in. “We saw him outside earlier.”
     Lucretia hesitated, face becoming conflicted. “I... have already asked a lot of him...” she said slowly, wringing her hands together. “It... is true that of us, he would be at the least risk... but...”
     “Write a message,” Grimoire suggested, prompting Sephiroth to lift a hand, “And leave it on the door, or some other easily visible location. If he's truly watching over the place, Vincent will see and likely realize it is intended for him. Lay out the issue at hand with a question of it he would be willing to take the job, as well as instructions on what is needed. He was a Turk once, after all. I imagine the core retrieval of the sample should be simple enough even for him.”
     Angeal relayed the dead doctor's suggestion to Lucretia. She hesitated, looking at Sephiroth.
     “... I'm fine.” he said quietly. “You should write it. You're the one who knows the procedure best.”
     Slowly, she nodded. Reaching out, she grabbed his hands and said, “Remember— if he doesn't come around, there's absolutely nothing saying we need him, and we can kick him right out for making us cry.”
     He nodded. She smiled softly and pulled him into a hug, which he shamelessly returned, before turning to head into the library area. With that, Sephiroth figured he might as well go back to sweeping.
     “... You cried?” Angeal asked, sounding bewildered as he followed after Sephiroth and Grimoire.
     “He's human too.” Grimoire said firmly, a note of warning lacing his tone.
     “I— That's not what I meant—”
     “I don't have the luxury of flying away when my emotions get too much to handle.” Sephiroth cut in, admittedly a bit curt, as they left the lab.
     “Sephiroth.” his grandfather chided.
     At the same time, Angeal murmured, “Seph...”
     “I never told the mayor about Vincent,” he deflected, “I should call before it gets too late over there. I imagine he'll be ecstatic.”
     It sounded like Angeal stopped following him as he headed down the stairs. Part of him wanted to go back and apologize, to admit that he'd been petty and callous. But the rest of him... the rest of him was tired of people leaving him. Running away from him. Leaving him alone because they were too overwhelmed by something— as he'd said that morning, taking time to get space was fine, as long as they came back. Not... flew off into the aether, only to show up when it suited them, barely saying a word and forcing him to cut down things that wore his best friends' faces like masks.
     He was tired of chasing people who didn't seem to care, especially when compared to Zack— who had no obligation to call him or send him emails beyond work, but did anyway— or his mother— who forbade him from doing things out of fear of him getting hurt, as if he didn't cleave armies in two for a living.
     Or Mayor Domino, who he actually was calling, and always seemed just as eager to hear from him as Zack.

Chapter Text

     “I can't say I've exactly made any break-throughs,” Lucretia explained, “But I can say for certain that Angeal's cells are stable. You aren't truly degrading at all. Nor are you actively mutating— even when I introduced cells from your sample to a relatively large quantity of mako, there was no change. Rather, the change happened when I reintroduced cells from your clone to cells from your sample.”
     “What do you mean?” Angeal asked.
     “When I reintroduced the clone's cells to yours, they merged, very much like how Hojo's Reunion theory suggests. But rather than reverting to a base Angeal, it was more like... like a chimera cell. Not a merge as in absorption, like the Reunion theory proposed, but a true and proper merge.”
     The four of them were sitting outside the manor, waiting for Vincent to return. Yesterday afternoon, Lucretia had put the message on one of the open windowsills while Sephiroth— and Angeal— cleaned. By evening, the note was gone, as was the small bag of equipment that had been placed nearby. Now the manor was as clean as it could get with the tools on hand, and they were just waiting.
     “That sounds... painful.” Grimoire commented with a frown.
     Sephiroth agreed.
     Not having heard, Lucretia continued, “But it wasn't an active process, even! I had to brute force it with almost a gallon of mako and aggressive agitation! It was as if without the donors actively willing the merge, they were resisting completely!”
     “Is that good or bad?” Sephiroth asked as Angeal tipped his head.
     “I don't know,” she admitted with a sigh, shaking her head, “All I know is that it does, in a sense, disprove at least part of the Reunion theory. Under the Reunion theory, merely by placing the two sets of cells in mako to activate them, they all should've become identical to the original sample from Angeal. But not only was that not what happened, it was nowhere near as instantaneous as Hojo proposed. In fact, Angeal's cells are almost completely inert without being actively forced to do something— when I introduced A-clone cells and then A-cells to Sephiroth's sample and my own, the cells were reduced to J-cells— or made into S-cells, in Sephiroth's case. But even then, that was only with activation through mako! And when I introduced them to Zack's sample, there was no reaction! Not even with a gallon of mako!”
     “So if Angeal is not an active participant,” Grimoire surmised, prompting Sephiroth to raise a hand to stop his mother's rant, “Then very little happens at all.”
     He relayed the words to her, and she made a vaguely frustrated noise as she shrugged. “I don't know yet. I'll need other genetic samples— unenhanced humans with no J-cells, creatures that Angeal did and didn't turn without any A-cells present... but it certainly seems that if Angeal chooses not to do anything, nothing will happen.”
     Sephiroth looked over at Angeal. The man was staring silently at his hands. After a moment, he clenched his fists and quietly said, “If... you find a cure, though...”
     “If I can find a way to safely purge you of all J-cells, and you decide that is what you truly want, then I'll do it.” Lucretia said firmly.
     “Is that so?”
     The familiar drawl had Sephiroth standing up, stepping defensively in front of his mother.
     “Genesis.” Angeal said in a cautious tone.
     The redhead had gotten particularly good at flying, if he was able to descend on them so silently. Sephiroth wondered how long he'd been listening in.
     “I was wondering why everyone seemed to be coming and going from this area,” Genesis declared, eyes focused solely on Lucretia as Sephiroth heard her stand up, “And it turns out you're all trying very hard to undermine me.”
     “I'm trying to help.” Sephiroth corrected.
     “I don't need your help.” Genesis sneered, flipping his bangs out of his eyes as his wing flexed. “But I'll be generous— give her here, and I'll let you run back to Shinra like the dog you are.”
     “You call this a friend?” Grimoire asked in audible disbelief.
     “He wasn't always like this.” Sephiroth replied quietly, staying firmly in front of his mother.
     Angeal stepped forward, a hand out placatingly. “Genesis, Dr. Crescent is really trying to help. So just calm down—”
     “We aren't children any more, Angeal!” Genesis snapped, baring his teeth furiously. “So don't tell me what to do when it isn't your life on the line!”
     “As the doctor you're trying to poach,” Lucretia piped up, voice steady despite how Sephiroth felt her clutch the back of his coat, “I am more than willing to help you, but I'm not going to simply play nice with someone saying such cruel things so casually to my son. If you won't listen to him—”
     “I don't recall asking you.” Genesis sneered coldly, taking a step closer and drawing—
     It wasn't really Genesis, Sephiroth realized. Genesis never carried a gun on his person, despite being proficient in firearms. He always preferred Rapier and materia. This was a clone.
     Genesis didn't even care enough to stand before him in person.
     “Gen.” Angeal said warning, a hand going to the hilt of his sword.
     “Get out of the way, 'Geal,” Genesis warned, eyes burning as they bored into Sephiroth, “This doesn't have to be messy.”
     ‘Messy,’ he said. Was that what Banora was? ‘Messy?’ Sephiroth couldn't help but think of Zack, crestfallen and crushed by his inability to save even a single person from the town. The mission Sephiroth had declined, and instead had gone to Angeal's mentee, and had been nothing more than a razing of a ghost town.
     ‘How could he,’ Zack had screamed.
     Sephiroth reached back, pushing his mother firmly behind him.
     “Genesis,” Angeal insisted, though he had yet to step between the two of them, “Don't do this.”
     But of course Angeal wasn't stepping between them. When had he ever truly chosen Sephiroth over Genesis?
     The thought made him grind his teeth, just a bit.
     “Give her here.” Genesis ordered, gun cocking.
     He could survive a gunshot. Even from this distance. He'd certainly be winded, but he'd survive.
     Voice dark, Sephiroth replied, “Never.”
     The sudden blur of red, combined with Angeal's shout and his mother's scream, meant that for a moment Sephiroth thought he really had been shot. But there was no burn. No sting. No sudden punch of all the breath from his lungs because he'd taken a bullet to the chest from such close proximity. No blood oozing up and running down.
     But Grimoire's desperate yell of, “Vincent!” was what really drove home what happened.
     Even Genesis looked shocked, head snapping around in alarm— probably trying to figure out where exactly the man had come from. But Sephiroth didn't care, lurching forward to steady his father as Vincent coughed wetly, staggering with a hand to his chest. Angeal was yelling, but he couldn't make out the words over the ringing in his ears, because Vincent had been shot. His father had taken a bullet for him. His father was bleeding out, if not dying from a punctured lung or some other critical injury, and he didn't even have any healing materia or curatives—
     Vincent grabbed him by the collar of his coat, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Sephiroth,” the Turk ordered, voice rasping and bubbling a bit, “Take your mother and run.”
     “I'm not leaving you.” Sephiroth replied, tightening his own hold on the man.
     Vincent just shook his head, looking queasy and breathing far too quickly. “Run— even if you never listen to me again... this once, do as I say— run...!”
     And with that, he pushed Sephiroth off, turning towards Genesis with amber eyes flashing.
     “Vincent, what are you doing?!” Grimoire yelled in vain, because only Sephiroth and the other two SOLDIERs could hear him, lunging forward and grabbing desperately at his son.
     ... Amber eyes?
     “Oh no— Sephiroth, we have to go.” Lucretia said suddenly, grabbing his arm and tugging at him, a low rumble filling the air as Genesis and Angeal noticed Vincent staggering closer.
     But Vincent's eyes were red.
     A stomach-dropping crack filled the air, the Turk giving a full body shudder as he hunched over with a snarl, blood spattering the ground around his feet.
     “Sephiroth, we need to go now!” Lucretia cried, pulling more insistently at him, but he couldn't look away from his father's tortured figure.
     “Lucretia,” Grimoire whispered in horror as Vincent suddenly began to change, that low rumble becoming a bone-rattling growl, “What did you do?”
     Sephiroth didn't have the words to describe what he was seeing. Vincent's form began to contort with more cracks and snaps, as if his very bones were being rearranged and shattered. But it didn't stop there. No, it also seemed to stretch and expand, Vincent visibly growing larger even as he hissed and spat with audible agony, hands that had become claws tearing at the dirt. No one seemed able to look away, everyone rooted to the spot as the Turk thrashed and snarled.
     Then Vincent looked back, over his shoulder, panting with exertion, skin mottled dark and leathery, eyes slit-pupiled yellow and mouth split in a broken, grotesque grin that revealed predatory fangs— and Sephiroth realized with his gut dropping to his boots that whatever was happening, Vincent was resisting it. Holding back.
     “R... run...!” a barely-recognizable voice ordered.
     He turned, scooping up Lucretia, and in the same moment, Vincent's tenuous control seemed to snap.
     A behemoth of some nature raised it's head to the sky and unleashed a noise somewhere between a furious roar and a tortured scream, sparks flying from it's jaws and tail lashing violently. Sephiroth didn't look back as he bolted from the estate, but not from not wanting to— if he stumbled or veered, he would be risking his mother. So he didn't look back, even when Angeal's griffon swooped past from the patrol it had been sent on. The smell of scorched feathers filled the air as it shook from a powerful roar, and Sephiroth clutched his mother closer.
     As he burst into Nibelheim, though, she pounded on his back, and he automatically stopped, letting her down. It looked like she was barely withholding herself from panicking, eyes wide and breath fluttering.
     “It's not indefinite,” she launched before he could say anything, “Eventually he'll run out of stamina and return to normal, but the problem is wearing him out like that. If we wait, then—”
     Another roar split the air, making them both look back. Smoke was beginning to rise into the air, and Sephiroth realized the townsfolk were outside. Some were pointing to the smoke, others were looking at him and his mother.
     “We can't afford to wait,” Sephiroth said grimly, “There are civilians at stake.”
     “... Right. Right.” Lucretia nodded, voice calm even though she still looked on the verge of breaking down. “Can... can you...?”
     “I'll hold them off,” he ordered, already starting back into the trees, “Get the town evacuated!”
     “Be careful!” she screamed after him.
     If he'd been closer, Sephiroth would've parroted her words right back.
     “Sephiroth,” Grimoire said suddenly, a steady presence at his side, “What are you going to do?”
     “Keep the fight away from the civilians the best I can.” he replied grimly, already plunged into the smoke and inferno. The sky was blotted out above him, and the heat had sweat slicking his skin already. Through the haze of fire and smoke crackling around him, he could make out the behemoth clambered halfway up the mansion, claws caving the structure in as it snapped and swiped at Genesis.
     “Will you be able to?” Grimoire asked, voice raised to be heard over the fire as they ran. Before Sephiroth could confirm his ability, however, his grandfather elaborated, “These are your friends and father— no one will blame you for being overwhelmed!”
     The words both tightened and loosened something in his chest.
     “I don't have a choice.” he said, so quietly even he almost couldn't hear. But rather than dwell on that, he drew Masamune.

Chapter Text

     Angeal noticed his presence first as he joined the fray, swooping down with a hand up to shield his eyes from the heat and swirling embers. “Seph—”
     “If you have any available clones in the area, send them to help the evacuation,” Sephiroth ordered, checking his materia slots, “I'm not risking another town of innocents for Genesis's pettiness.”
     Angeal cringed, but nodded, gaze going blank and distant.
     Sephiroth didn't carry many materia with him. He was proficient with it, certainly, but given all his other excellencies it had always made more sense to leave it for others, who might need it more. At the moment, he had lightning, gravity, and seal. None of them were exactly ideal for the current situation, but he was going to have to make do.
     “Doctor, roughly how far apart would you say we're able to get before you can't go any further?” Sephiroth asked, eyeing the behemoth crashing it's way over the top of the mansion in pursuit of Genesis.
     “Don't worry about me right now.” Grimoire rebuffed, shaking his head.
     Ordinarily, he would've objected. This was his grandfather, already dead or not. But at the moment, they were in an active disaster situation. The living took priority over the dead.
     First priority— Genesis. He meant it when he said he wasn't going to risk someone unrelated over the redhead's melodrama. That meant that this clone had to come down, and any others in the area as well.
     Second priority— Vincent. He didn't know what had happened exactly, but his mother was confident when she claimed that wearing the behemoth out would revert Vincent to normal. At a guess, this was related to ‘the thesis’ and Hojo's experiments, meaning Vincent himself probably had very little control right now. If the behemoth behaved as a wild animal, then once Genesis was dealt with, baiting it further into the mountains and away from people should be simple enough.
     Third priority— the fire. Nothing was exactly dry, but the fire was burning hot enough to not care, and spreading fast. At this rate, the people of Nibelheim would suffer for years on account of the blaze. So he had to deal with Genesis and Vincent swiftly.
     The air tasted of ash and smoke when he breathed. It coated his tongue and throat. Ignoring the unpleasant sensation, he broke into a run. The behemoth had torn down part of the manor, leaving debris strewn in it's wake as it reared up to swat Genesis out of the air. Sephiroth headed for the largest piece and launched himself off it.
     Unfortunately, the behemoth seemed to have seen him, and with Genesis sprawled on the shingles coughing for breath, it turned to meet him with fangs bared in a snarl. Grimly, Sephiroth braced himself to be similarly swatted—
     “Gotcha!” a breathless voice grunted, shaking hands catching him around the waist and narrowly diving around the beast's outstretched claws. Angeal set him down on the roof, drawing his sword in the same action. “I've got five helping evacuate and three doing their best to limit the fires— what's the plan?”
     “Wear Vincent out and he should return to normal, apparently,” Sephiroth replied, carefully splitting his attention between the looming behemoth and Genesis getting to his feet, “Keep him occupied until I can get to him.”
     “What—”
     Angeal's bewilderment, however, was cut off as a huge claw crashed through the roof between them. Hoping that the man would listen to him, Sephiroth turned his back and lunged for Genesis. Without Rapier or any other blade, the redhead just barely blocked with the muzzle of his gun.
     “Turning on me so easily, old friend?” Genesis spat, glaring violently as he skipped back.
     “You threatened and insulted my mother,” Sephiroth replied coolly, flicking Masamune, “Shot my father, made Zack cry, betrayed the trust of countless SOLDIERs, and left me alone with Hojo. I have little sympathy for you right now.”
     “Oh, please!” Genesis scoffed, firing a couple shots that forced Sephiroth to duck to the side. “Everyone knows you're Hojo's little test tube project!”
     The roof split, beginning to cave in on itself. He heard Angeal's wings flap furiously as the behemoth shifted it's weight, causing more of the roof to collapse. As Genesis fluttered to a more stable section of the building, Sephiroth pressed close, commenting, “And since when, exactly, do you listen to anything that madman says?”
     Genesis snarled furiously, forced to block with his gun again. This time, it wasn't as clean a block. As sparks scraped into being between the two pieces of metal, Masamune slid across the redhead's cheek. At this proximity, Sephiroth felt the heat of the muzzle against his own cheek when Genesis pulled the trigger. In the next second, however, the two of them were forced to leap apart, the roof collapsing almost entirely as the behemoth snapped at them.
     “Angeal!” Sephiroth yelled as he landed in what used to be a bedroom. Grimoire darted through what was left of the wall, eyes wide and frantic, to stand next to him. So while he had been on the roof, Grimoire had been running around inside the remains of the manor to keep within distance?
     “I'm trying!” the other man yelled back, sounding incredibly distant under the fire and behemoth.
     “Damn brute!” Genesis snarled from somewhere nearby— presumably in a room across the hall, since that's where the behemoth whipped around towards.
     “Sephiroth!” Grimoire yelled in alarm as the beast's tail caught him broadside. He managed not to be sent flying, but suspected he had at least one cracked rib for it. Throwing caution to the wind, he scrabbled up on top of the behemoth. It instantly felt him, and made it's displeasure known by snapping and writhing. However, Sephiroth had managed to get up high enough to see Genesis for a split second. The redhead's face was contorted in a snarl, gun aimed right at him.
     For a moment, he hesitated.
     Because Genesis had been his friend. No matter all the atrocious things he had done, this was still the same person who had jumped around the VR rooms with him, wasn't it? Wasn't this the same person who had lectured him on the importance of poetry and literature?
     This was someone he cherished, once upon a time.
     A bullet tore into his shoulder as the beast roared.
     Right.
     This wasn't the real Genesis.
     Sephiroth plunged, not even able to feel the blood for the sweat and fire. Genesis staggered at the impact, eyes wide in disbelief.
     “You...!” the redhead coughed, dropping the gun to grab at Masamune where the blade was buried in his chest.
     “I wanted to save you.” Sephiroth whispered. He didn't know if Genesis heard. Closing his eyes so he didn't have to see, he twisted the blade and swept to the side. He only opened his eyes once he had spun completely around, facing the enraged behemoth now.
     As he leapt to meet it, he vaguely saw a blur of black swoop into the remains of the room behind him.
     The behemoth, predictably, did not go down as easily as a cheap copy of Genesis. It did, however, topple over backwards with a vaguely bewildered noise akin to a yelp as Sephiroth crashed into it. The floor buckled under it's weight, and they both plummeted to the ground floor. It recovered quickly, though, rolling over and throwing him off with a snarl. Sephiroth grit his teeth and swiped Masamune through the air. The resulting implosion of burning debris didn't seem to do much against the behemoth, though it did slow it down enough for Sephiroth to get outside into the yard. There was more space there, less immediate fire, and the smoke was thinner.
     Thinner, but still present. Between the smoke and heat, Sephiroth didn't think he had much longer to fight. He'd have to end this quickly— but the behemoth didn't seem tired at all.
     Grimoire came darting out of the building, asking, “How're you holding up?”
     “I have to finish it now,” he replied grimly, the behemoth breaking through the wall and glaring as it growled, “Or the smoke will get too much.”
     “What's your plan?” Grimoire yelled as the behemoth spat flame. Thankfully the dead doctor seemed immune to the inferno, looking far more concerned for Sephiroth, whose hair and coat had both gotten singed as he dodged.
     Honestly, he didn't know. Angeal seemed to have given up the fight, probably still with the Genesis clone. Which twisted something in his chest again— even now, in an emergency situation, was Genesis more important? When this was Genesis's fault? But without Angeal to help him, Sephiroth was going to have to defeat the behemoth himself.
     Wear him out, Lucretia had said.
     Sephiroth knew one sure-fire way to wear something out instantly.
     Again, he hesitated, because even like this, this was his father. If he cut into the behemoth, would Vincent bleed for it? If Sephiroth was too careless, could he kill his father?
     But Vincent hadn't wanted to hurt anyone, he reflected. Vincent had told them to run, even as he pointed the beast towards the threat to his family. If someone got hurt because Sephiroth couldn't lift a hand to his father, would Vincent ever look him in the eye again? Would it matter than Vincent lived if innocents suffered?
     He cast with the gravity materia.
     The behemoth staggered as if physically struck, coughing sparks and shaking it's head. While it recovered, Sephiroth lunged forward.
     One strike, from it's shoulder to opposing hip.
     Two strikes, mirroring the first.
     The behemoth collapsed to all fours, and, unnervingly silent, looked at him, head cocked to the side. Holding his breath, Sephiroth brought Masamune down—
     And grimaced as the gunshot on his shoulder screamed in protest to the sudden wrench sideways, his cracked ribs straining painfully. The slash cut into the foundation of the manor instead as he dropped the blade.
     “Sephiroth,” Grimoire cried, sounding both concerned and relieved all at once, “Vincent!”
     Sephiroth was right there as Vincent wobbled, eyes comfortingly scarlet despite being glazed over in a thousand-yard stare. His father collapsed, but Sephiroth never let him hit the ground. His heart hammered in his throat as Vincent's head lolled against his shoulder— but he didn't have time to check if his father was still alive at the moment. The smoke was growing thicker, the heat of the fire becoming unbearable even for him. Swallowing down his pulse and the taste of ash both, Sephiroth gathered Vincent up. Turning around, he told Grimoire, “Time to leave.”
     After a moment, his grandfather nodded, turning to lead the way, nearly invisible in the smoke and heat distortion.
     Masamune was left behind. Nor did Sephiroth bother checking the hazy skies for anyone flying away.
     Neither of those things was important at the moment.

Chapter Text

     “He'll be okay,” Lucretia reassured, wiping the soot from his face, “I promise.”
     Sephiroth nodded, eyes drifting over to Vincent. His father was laid out on the ground— tattered, soot-stained, but whole. Everything that had been done to the behemoth seemed to have been just that— done to the behemoth. He couldn't even see where Genesis had shot the man. But Vincent was quiet. Limp. It made him nervous.
     “Oh, sweetie...” Lucretia fretted, reaching up to kiss his cheek.
     The town had been evacuated safely. Angeal's clones had frightened the townspeople at first, but Lucretia had reassured them that the beasts meant no harm. The clones had fended off any wild beasts that were also fleeing the fire, as well as helped carry packs, and escorted the few elders and small children. The citizens were now hunkered down near the base of the mountain with three of Angeal's clones standing guard. Lucretia had explained that two of them had flown off, presumably to help deal with the fire that was still raging. If he looked up at it, he could see a few tongues of orange— massive, to be so visible— and a veritable pillar of smoke. Flakes of ash occasionally fell even at this distance. The people of Nibelheim murmured uneasily between themselves. Sephiroth was covered in soot and blood— only some of it his.
     His mother coaxed him to take off his coat, examining the gunshot with gentle fingers and tender eyes. It was already healing— she wanted to flush it with water, just a bit, to rinse out any ash or debris that might've gotten in, and see the extent of the damage. Sephiroth reassured her that he'd had worse and healed just fine— the bruises from the behemoth's tail were already well on their way to healing, after all. That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because she teared up a bit. One of the village women came over to offer a first aid kit she'd packed in evacuating around that time.
     “It'll be healed by sunset.” Sephiroth declined, shaking his head.
     “Don't listen to him,” Lucretia huffed, “Thank you very much.”
     “Nothing of it,” the woman chuckled, kneeling down nearby to open the kit up, “I know a thing or two about stubborn boys. Even if it heals quickly, you can't risk getting an infection from something that shouldn't be in there.”
     “Exactly!” Lucretia said in exasperation, giving him a pointed look.
     “You're the only one in need of such attention,” Grimoire advised from behind him, “And also the main line of defense against anything that sees fit to attack them. If they can do anything to speed up the healing process, let them.”
     After a moment, he sighed, shifting a bit so the two could have better access to his shoulder. His mother gave him a knowing look as she nodded.
     “And the other one,” the townswoman asked ask she handed Lucretia a small bottle of water, “Is he alright?”
     “It should mostly be fatigue in Vincent's case, though I imagine the smoke and heat didn't help... but give him a little bit, and he should be alright.”
     “Would a damp cloth help?”
     “... It probably wouldn't hurt— aah, let me, in case he wakes up.”
     Between Lucretia and the townswoman, Sephiroth's shoulder was cleaned and bandaged in just a few minutes. Vincent's headband was replaced with a wet cloth, nudged away from his eyes to help prevent any negative reactions— which Sephiroth knew was in reference to Turk instincts, even if no one in Nibelheim did. Grimoire watched over them the entire time, eyes flicking between Sephiroth and Vincent.
     “There.” Lucretia said, tone slightly triumphant as she patted his shoulder, touch feather-light. “Now come here.”
     The hug she dragged him into was equally gentle, her arms low about his waist as if to avoid his ribs. As if he wasn't already healing, had suffered worse at Hojo's hands hundreds of times. But she still did it, holding him close as if he wasn't a mess of blood, sweat, and ash. Sephiroth closed his eyes, ducking his head to hide, briefly, in the crook of her neck.
     “If you want to talk about it,” she murmured, patting his back, “I'll always be ready to listen.”
     Silently, he nodded into her shoulder.
     After a moment longer, they pulled apart. Hugging him had left stains all over Lucretia's dress and skin, but she hardly seemed to notice. “You should rest now,” she said firmly, “As long as no one actively needs you up and running around, I want you taking it easy now, okay? Smoke inhalation is nothing to take lightly, even for someone enhanced like you, not to mention heat exhaustion. And if you absolutely need to think of it as doing something, then we can call it keeping an eye on Vincent.”
     Grimoire chuckled behind him, the sound accompanied by the chill of the man patting his shoulder. “Don't worry,” his grandfather advised, “Lucretia's a capable woman. She can take care of the minutiae while you rest.”
     Sighing, Sephiroth nodded. Lucretia looked triumphant as he shuffled over to sit next to Vincent. Once she seemed content he wasn't going to get up behind her back, she began making rounds of the townspeople with the local woman.
     After a minute, Grimoire sat next to him, murmuring, “It's okay to be upset. You always described him to me as a friend. Even if someone has revealed themselves to be... less than pleasant, you're allowed to mourn the person you thought they were, and the good times you had with them.”
     Sephiroth dipped his chin ever-so-slightly to indicate that he'd heard. He suspected that the people of Nibelheim wouldn't take him talking to thin air very well. The dead doctor had always been good about not speaking too much in the presence of those unaware of him, though, and settled peacefully next to Sephiroth and Vincent.
     As he watched his mother start what looked like a very serious debate with a man of... some import, Sephiroth supposed, Vincent's quiet breathing became soft, breathy snores. The sound had him relaxing a bit, Grimoire chuckling. No matter his grandfather's amusement, though, it was reassuring to hear. If Vincent was snoring, then surely that meant he was resting peacefully, didn't it? That he truly was okay? With just a brush, he'd spring up the way he had in the crypt below the manor?
     “Incoming.” Grimoire suddenly warned, though it wasn't urgent. Looking up, Sephiroth found a young girl approaching. She startled at his gaze, but swiftly drew herself up and marched over.
     “Hi. I'm Tifa.” she introduced as she stood over him.
     Blinking, Sephiroth realized that there were actually a dozen pairs of youthful eyes riveted on them. He wasn't unused to the phenomena— it was rare for him to venture outside without getting swarmed, back in Midgar. But in Nibelheim, very few adults seemed to want anything to do with him. Despite that, it would seem the local children were still fascinated by him.
     Barely withholding his sigh, Sephiroth nodded in acknowledgement. “Did you need something?”
     “You're a SOLDIER, right?” she asked bluntly.
     “I am.” Sephiroth confirmed. He had no clue what she wanted.
     “My friend went to Midgar recently to become a SOLDIER. Have you met him?” the girl asked.
     “... Does your friend have a name?” he prodded when she didn't supply him with one.
     Grimoire chuckled as her face flushed. “Uh— Cloud. Cloud Strife. His mom was the one talking to you before, and he looks just like her!”
     Sephiroth shook his head. “I cannot say I have, no. But then again, I am hardly the most social of people.”
     The girl— Tifa, she'd said— seemed to more or less ignore him, bulldozing, “He promised to write when he made it into SOLDIER, but he hasn't written anything at all!”
     ... Ah. Was this what they called ‘childhood sweethearts?’
     “It takes a very long time to make it into SOLDIER, and there are very strict requirements as well. If your friend only left recently, then you should give him time. It may take him a couple years, especially if he is as... young as you seem to be.” Sephiroth said carefully.
     “I'm not that young! I'm fourteen!”
     “Is your friend the same age as you?”
     “Huh? I mean, yeah, but...”
     Sephiroth shook his head. “Then he's too young to apply for SOLDIER. The regular infantry would accept him, but the minimum age requirement to join SOLDIER is sixteen.”
     “No way!” Tifa cried, eyes wide with shock. “Really?!”
     “Both those ages are still far too young for any kind of enlistment.” Grimoire groused with a scowl.
     Sephiroth, however, was no longer paying attention, because Vincent had shifted with a groan. As he held his breath, gaze riveted on his father, ruby eyes fluttered open. For a moment, Vincent stared blankly at the sky. Then, slowly, he reached up and felt at the cloth on his forehead. The man blinked a few times, then pushed the cloth off and looked to Sephiroth.
     “... What happened?” Vincent asked quietly.
     “You didn't hurt anyone.” Sephiroth said firmly.
     “Why is that what you open with?” Tifa asked incredulously. Sephiroth ignored her as Vincent closed his eyes with a sigh, nodding.
     “The manor and surrounding forest are on fire, though,” he admitted, glancing up at the smoke above, “I think Angeal is working to keep it contained, but... he may have given up. I won't know unless I go check.”
     “Do not.” Grimoire said with a glare.
     Fairly certain he was turned so Tifa couldn't see, Sephiroth rolled his eyes.
     “... And the red one?” Vincent asked quietly.
     “Who?” Tifa asked blankly.
     “... I dealt with him.”
     The girl seemed to realize she was being ignored. Stomping her foot with a huff, she turned on her heel and stalked off. As Sephiroth watched, the other children quickly flocked over, obviously asking questions. But his gaze quickly went back down to Vincent, whose eyes were still closed.
     “... Why did you run?” Sephiroth asked quietly, earning thin crescents of red. “You avoided me so completely, but were willing to shield me from injury at the cost of yourself...”
     For a long moment, Vincent didn't answer. Sephiroth was just about to resign himself to silence when the man quietly replied, “I should have been there.”
     Blinking, Sephiroth tried to meet his father's gaze. But Vincent turned his head completely, looking away.
     “Instead I let Hojo take you,” the Turk continued, “And chose to hide as if that would atone for my sins. I abandoned you.”
     “... But you're here now.” Sephiroth murmured, fists clenching in his lap. Grimoire's chill settled on his wrist.
     “I don't deserve to be.” Vincent replied, voice barely more than a whisper.
     “None of that now.” Grimoire said sharply, even though Vincent couldn't hear him.
     Sephiroth didn't say anything. Looking around, he took in the state of the camp. It looked like his mother was still locked in conversation with the one man, hands on her hips in a stubborn stance. Very few people were even looking at him and Vincent— mostly the children. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and planted a hand on the ground by Vincent's side. Specifically, the side opposite him, so he was effectively hovering over the man. The Turk looked up at the action, face... not completely blank, but still hard to read. Slowly, Sephiroth began to lower himself down.
     It was far from Zack using all his weight to topple and pin Angeal. Rather, Sephiroth... did want to give Vincent the chance to run, if he truly didn't want him. Every movement was slow, giving ample time and opportunity for escape. But Vincent didn't move, and before too long, Sephiroth had laid his head on the man's chest, laid half on top of him, with one hand knotted loosely in the red of Vincent's cloak.
     It wasn't Zack pitching himself on top of Angeal and stubbornly clinging. But Sephiroth hoped the message was still received the same way— an unspoken plea to stay.
     His eyes burned when he felt a hand begin to gently scratch at his scalp, combing through his hair, and he quickly closed them.
     “... I used to play piano for you,” Vincent told him quietly, “When you first started kicking, you fussed at everything...”

Chapter Text

     It was the dead of night when Angeal arrived. Almost all of the Nibelheim citizens had fallen asleep, as had Lucretia. She had smiled very fondly when she'd first seen Sephiroth and Vincent lying together, and her reluctance to tear them apart was obvious. But she'd asked Sephiroth to see if he could pull a few Shinra strings and get some supplies sent the town's way, so he'd had no choice but to sit up and do so.
     All that had been several hours ago, though, and Sephiroth watched warily as Angeal slunk into the ramshackle camp. The other man was even filthier than he was— though admittedly the one woman, Claudia, had helpfully provided damp rags for him and Vincent to clean the worst of the fire off. There was an invisible weight to him, making him trudge and drag his feet, though Sephiroth couldn't identify if it was physical exhaustion or rampant emotions.
     Most importantly, perhaps, was that Angeal held Masamune.
     “You forgot this.” the man said hoarsely, holding the blade for Sephiroth to take.
     It was just as filthy as Angeal. Covered in ash, dirt, and blood— from both Genesis's clone and the behemoth. Silently, Sephiroth tipped his head, and Angeal obligingly put the sword to the side before sitting down.
     ... Was it horrible of him, to have been expecting Angeal to use Masamune, rather than simply return it?
     “... He's going to be out of sorts for a while,” Angeal said heavily, “Exerting that much control over an individual clone... and for that clone to have...”
     “So he'll experience pain,” Sephiroth guessed flatly, leaning into Vincent a bit, “As if I had directly killed him.”
     Angeal cringed, not looking at him, but nodded.
     Silence fell over the three of them. Vincent seemed to be studying Angeal, who seemed to be exhausted in every sense of the word. Sephiroth turned his head so he could see Lucretia where she was curled up. Once again, Vincent had wrapped her in his cloak. She, too, looked exhausted, even in sleep. Grimoire sat over her, at Sephiroth's request, though he was watching them at the moment.
     Hopefully once the fires got put out, they would find the lab at least partially intact, so her research could be salvaged and continued. Though now Sephiroth's reasons for wanting a cure were far less... altruistic.
     “Angeal.” he said, figuring that while he was thinking of it and had the man, he should say something.
     “What is it?”
     Steeling himself, Sephiroth declared, “Genesis has gone too far.”
     “He's sick.” Angeal defended instantly.
     “And that excuses the innocents who have suffered?” Sephiroth pressed, keeping his back straight and his face blank. “Zack alone has killed more than enough clones to account for the defected SOLDIERs— SOLDIERs who trusted and admired him. From where is Genesis procuring his fresh clones, Angeal? You said you would never use your ability on a person, but he has proven that he has no such qualms. Genesis has become the same kind of person as Hojo.”
     The man looked uncomfortable as he protested, “That's... a bit far...”
     “He's expressed willingness to disregard others,” Vincent piped up, “And treats them as little more than material to further himself. My first encounter with the individual was while he was attempting to shoot Sephiroth for standing between him and Lucretia.”
     “And there is no guarantee he would have treated her well.” Sephiroth nodded, feeling his hands clench into fists at the thought. “If he was willing to attack me with such intent, when I was once considered his friend... what would he have done to my mother, a stranger to him?”
     Angeal's eyes were wet. It looked like his fists were clenched too. His throat was bobbing, as if he were swallowing down countless words.
     “The next time I see him,” Sephiroth said firmly, and partially to himself, “I can no longer hesitate. Not when he has become a monster. So as cruel as it may make me, I must ask you to choose.”
     Vincent's hand shifted into his lap, and he quickly caught it in his own. Angeal had yet to break his gaze, and Sephiroth could feel his grandfather's gaze heavy on his shoulders.
     “If you ally with him, or even continue to make allowances for him, then you are as good as commending the way he has chosen to treat those weaker and unable to fight back against him. So I need you to choose, Angeal, because I have a duty to SOLDIER and the common people alike, to protect them against monsters.”
     “What about the monsters in Shinra, then?” Angeal asked bitterly, looking away. “The ones who made us? Who grew rich off us slaughtering thousands on the battlefield?”
     “Did I exclude them?” Sephiroth replied, even as his stomach dropped at his own words. Because the project that birthed them was backed by Shinra. A company experiment that would have required funding and equipment and mako. There were Turks guarding the scientists. But despite that, Sephiroth knew the dangers of a power vacuum.
     He was a soldier. A weapon. Not a politician or businessman.
     Angeal chewed on his lip, chest heaving slightly. His eyes were no longer merely wet. “... He's my best friend, Seph... I can't just...”
     “Then claim neutrality.” Grimoire piped up, prompting Sephiroth and Angeal to turn towards him. The dead doctor crossed his arms over his chest, looking sternly at both of them. “You don't have to fight against either party. You can bow out now, and wait for Lucretia to find the cure. Do not offer aid to either side. Focus on apologizing to your apprentice and helping Lucretia find a way to prevent other innocents from being dragged into something far beyond them.”
     “... Can I?” Angeal asked, voice small in a way that made Sephiroth's skin crawl. Angeal was many things, but ‘small’ was not one of them. It was... unnatural to apply the word to him in any sense.
     “I am not saying to forgo helping those in need— from what I can tell, you take some measure of pride in your ability to do that. So instead of fighting, focus on that. Keep monitoring the creatures that pose a threat to human settlements, or watch over travelers, or the like.” Grimoire ordered. After that, the dead doctor shrugged, admitting, “I cannot claim to know you as well as I have come to know Sephiroth. But you were vehement in your insistence that your cloning ability is ‘wrong,’ and that is why you do not use it on humans. Yet your Genesis has been doing just that, and with wild abandon from how the situation is described to me. If it is as black and white a situation as you insist it is...”
     Angeal shook his head, looking frustrated. “I can't just leave him alone while he's in pain!”
     Sephiroth opened his mouth to explain the exchange to Vincent, but his father just patted his hand with a sidelong glance.
     “If you truly can't, then you should go to him,” Grimoire said firmly, “As it stands, your indecision in the matter is only causing everyone more pain— yourself included. Either stand with Genesis, or help Sephiroth put an end to his tyranny, or withdraw and abstain completely from the situation.”
     “It's not that simple!”
     Sephiroth and Vincent both shushed Angeal, glancing at Lucretia and the rest of the camp. A few of the individuals still awake glanced over, but seemed to lose interest rather quickly.
     “As someone who was alive for a fair bit longer than you, I guarantee it is,” Grimoire huffed, Sephiroth able to picture the man rolling his eyes perfectly, “There will be consequences for every choice, yes, but that is no different from the rest of life. If you continue to try finding some middle ground, you will only hurt everyone involved— yourself most of all, as you try to maintain every side.”
     Angeal looked down. There were tracks in the soot on his cheeks. “I can't leave him...”
     “Then you best go to him.” Sephiroth said stiffly, turning away.
     “Sephiroth...”
     “Don't.” he ordered, not turning around.
     “I can't just leave one or the other of you alone!”
     “Go!” Sephiroth hissed, curling in on himself a bit, still not turning around. “If I cannot implicitly trust you, then I'd rather not have you at all!”
     “Seph?!”
     Grimoire wasn't saying anything, expression grim and hands folded in his lap. Vincent slowly turned around as well, draping an arm around Sephiroth's shoulder.
     “... I already knew,” Sephiroth said lowly, fists clenched so tight his knuckles popped, “That you would never choose me over Genesis. So go. Don't bother Zack or myself ever again.”
     “You told me to choose, but now you're just choosing for me.” Angeal accused weakly.
     Sephiroth didn't respond, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths.
     “Seph, this isn't fair.”
     “What isn't fair,” he said, frost tinging his tone, “Is forcing Zack to kill his heroes every day.”
     Angeal didn't say anything in response to that.
     In the silence that followed, Grimoire staring over his shoulder as he watched his mother breathe, Sephiroth heard the quiet crunch of boots walking away. Once he couldn't hear Angeal any more, he closed his eyes with a harsh exhale. Vincent's hand smoothed down his spine.
     “He may not have made his decision just yet,” the Turk murmured quietly, “If you need to give him some time to prove himself, then you are well within your rights.”
     “I didn't want to fight Genesis.” he said, voice soft.
     “Mm.”
     “I wanted to bring them back,” he continued, “I wanted things to go back to the way they had been.”
     “It's alright,” Grimoire piped up, voice kind, “No one's paying any attention.”
     He shook his head, trying to square his shoulders. “I can't keep mourning them. Or Genesis will continue to get away with things.”
     For a while, they sat in silence. Sephiroth found himself leaning against his father once again. Vincent let him, not saying anything. And he admittedly sort of reveled in that. Vincent— his father— was quiet and steady. His mother had yet to push him or do anything at all that made him uncomfortable. He loved everything about her. But right now, he didn't know how he would be able to handle her sympathetic gaze and mournful murmurings. In that sense, Vincent was the perfect foil to Lucretia. Silent and stoic, offering his presence as a sort of ground, but nothing more.
     The silence was broken by his PHS going off.
     Sighing in annoyance, Sephiroth peeled himself away from his father to pull the insufferable device out. Grimoire chuckled at him.
     “Speaking.” he intoned.
     “Oh, shoot, you answered!” Mayor Domino's voice exclaimed in surprise. “Sorry, didn't think you were actually awake, isn't it midnight over in the west?”
     “It's been a long day.” he chose to reply tiredly.
     “Aah, one of those days, eh?” the mayor said in an understanding tone. “If you wanna hang up on me and go to bed, I'll just call again and leave a message for you to listen to in the morning.”
     “It's alright.” Sephiroth dismissed, shifting how he sat a bit.
     “If you're sure— anyway, sorry I never got back to you on that message you left! Been chasing Turks outta the archives left and right lately! Damn nuisances, they are!”
     He couldn't help but chuckle. Vincent tipped his head at the noise, while Grimoire smiled gently.
     “Said in the message that you had good news about your search, though— and your commander was extra excited when he came to visit! Refused to tell me, though, said you should tell me yourself— great kid, by the way, bagged yourself a winner with that one!” the mayor continued.
     “So I'm told.” Sephiroth agreed, leaning back a bit. The ash was falling less frequently now. Maybe they'd be lucky and the fires were almost out.
     “Well?” the mayor egged on, audibly excited. “Don't keep an old man in suspense!”
     Unable to keep from smiling as he glanced at his mother, Sephiroth replied, “I found her.”
     There was a second of silence, then a sharp gasp that crackled over the line. “Alive?!”
     “Alive.” he confirmed.
     The mayor whooped loudly enough that Sephiroth had to hold the PHS away from his ear a bit. “Congratulations, my boy!”
     “There's more.”
     He hesitated a moment before saying anything else, looking to Vincent. The Turk seemed to understand, though, nodding.
     “My father isn't Hojo.”
     “Eh? Really? Well, go on, tell me!” Mayor Domino demanded.
     “It's Vincent Valentine.”
     Another second of silence. This time, Sephiroth was marginally more prepared to pull the PHS away from his ear, the mayor's laughter loud enough that Grimoire seemed to hear, looking incredibly amused.
     “Oh, oh, my sides,” the mayor giggled as his cackling tapered off, “How's that for karma, Hojo? The boy you stole's about to expose you as the sneaky little thief you are, running around and hiding all ol' Grimoire's work away! Oh, to be a fly on the wall when it all comes crashing down on his toady head! Hey, this means your citizenship needs updating, doesn't it? Lemme make a note of it! You gonna be a Crescent or a Valentine?”
     Sephiroth blinked.
     He... hadn't thought of that.
     For a very long time, he had just been ‘Sephiroth.’ But with Lucretia and Vincent...
     “Do I want to be a Crescent or a Valentine?” he asked aloud. Not just to himself, either.
     His father seemed to flounder, eyes wide. Grimoire, on the other hand, smiled indulgently, replying, “Why not both?”
     “Both?” he echoed. Vincent looked even more off-kilter at the suggestion.
     “Ooh!” Mayor Domino exclaimed. “Dunno where you got that idea, but it's a good one! Hmm, Sephiroth Crescent-Valentine or Sephiroth Valentine-Crescent... personally, I like the way Crescent-Valentine rolls off the tongue. Hmm, but ‘General Valentine-Crescent’ commands a good bit of respectful attention, eh?”
     Hearing someone say them aloud made them feel more real. Originally, he had been planning to ask the mayor to wait. That was he could talk it over with both of them come morning, and see what they thought. But as the mayor thoughtfully brainstormed, Sephiroth found himself with an answer already.
     “I like Crescent-Valentine.”
     Grimoire seemed to mouth the name, looking incredibly pleased, while the mayor declared, “Sephiroth Crescent-Valentine it is! When you get back to Midgar, come straight to me, hear? I'll have all your updated identification and paperwork ready and waiting!”
     “Yes.” Sephiroth answered, feeling a bit dazed.
     He had a name.
     It hadn't ever exactly bothered him before. But now, all of the sudden, he was no longer just ‘Sephiroth.’ Now he was ‘Sephiroth Crescent-Valentine.’ Now, just like everyone around him, he had a name that indicated something— where he was from, who he belonged to. He had a history now, one that could be traced by his name alone.
     “Oh, one more thing.” the mayor said, suddenly a lot less jovial.
     “I'm listening.” Sephiroth confirmed, his father and grandfather both picking up on the tone shift.
     “You made a call for emergency relief supplies earlier, right? Around that time, that bat came outta his labs. Think he might be heading your way sometime soon. Want me to pull some strings and get your commander sent with those supplies, keep an eye on him?”

Chapter Text

     There was a charm on Masamune when he woke up.
     He didn't notice immediately, relaying to his mother everything that had happened after she fell asleep. She had been sympathetic and quiet during the part about Angeal, though she blushed and smiled when he told her what Mayor Domino was doing regarding his name. After that, she'd become grim and somewhat fearful at the news that Hojo may be en route.
     “He won't be pleased to see me...” Lucretia murmured, fingers knotting anxiously.
     “If he was hoping I would... reunite with Jenova, then he's not going to be pleased to see anyone.” Sephiroth pointed out. Picking up Masamune, he announced, “I'll go see how the fires are. If there's a chance we can salvage the progress you made—”
     The quiet clink of chain had both him and Lucretia looking to his hand, his grandfather making a noise of surprise by his side.
     Hanging from Masamune's hilt was a delicate silver chain with an old and slightly tarnished charm. Carefully catching it between his fingers, Sephiroth found it to be cast in the shape of a snarling three-headed dog.
     “Oh,” Lucretia gasped, “It's...”
     Cerberus, he thought dizzily, the Valentine crest.
     “That boy— he ran off this morning while you were still asleep, saying he was going to check for monsters getting too close to camp.” Grimoire clucked, rolling his eyes. “I can't say I noticed him doing that at all.”
     At almost the exact same time, voices overlapping a bit, Lucretia told him, “Vincent used to keep that on his gun— he told me once that it was an old family heirloom.”
     Sephiroth closed his hand around the charm. As he did, he looked down at himself, trying to find somewhere better to hang it. Masamune's hilt was fine, but he wanted it closer.
     His mother seemed to realize that, because she chuckled, stepping close and reaching out. He let her open his hand and unhook the charm from Masamune. Humming, she pushed his arm aside, granting herself access to his belt. Sephiroth watched intently as she clipped it to one of the loops at his hip. With a proud noise, she stepped back, and Sephiroth couldn't keep himself from instantly touching it to make sure it was secure.
     “Now all you need is a touch of red in your uniform.” his grandfather teased.
     He shook his head, murmuring, “I look terrible in red.”
     Lucretia seemed to make an educated guess as to what he meant, because she laughed, “You'll just have to carry a handkerchief or something then, hm?”
     Sephiroth found his eyes flicking to the yellow ribbon holding her hair up. “... Or something.” he agreed quietly. Clearing his throat a bit, he returned to the original conversation with a declaration of, “I shouldn't be too long. If the fires are nearly out, I may investigate the state of the manor, but that aside, I should be back soon.”
     “Be safe.” his mother ordered, reaching up to pull him into a hug.
     “And you.” he replied, hugging back with his free hand.
     The two of them broke apart after about five seconds. Lucretia waved as he left. When he glanced over his shoulder, he found her going around to the different groups of civilians.
     “It'll be alright.” Grimoire comforted.
     “Angeal's clones left during the night,” Sephiroth pointed out, “I'm worried Genesis will try something while I'm gone.”
     “Vincent was only checking for monsters,” his grandfather reminded, “He'll probably be back long before us.”
     Regardless, Sephiroth resolved to be quick.
     As he approached the fire-site, though, he found several of Angeal's clones. They barely spared him a glance, poking through piles of ash and occasionally stomping down into them. Looking around at the notable lack of inferno— not that there weren't still small blazes here and there, clones shoveling ash and dirt over them— he could only guess that Angeal had set them to work through the night. It looked like a line had been felled and cleared around the area the fire had raged in, leaving a clear division between ash and untouched wilderness. Well... not untouched, Sephiroth amended as he observed several scorched bushes and trees with badly withered branches.
     Since the clones didn't bother him, Sephiroth repaid them the same courtesy, instead venturing slowly into the charred area with a hand over his mouth to keep from inhaling too much ash. Anywhere not still actively burning was coated with a couple inches of the stuff. It muffled his footsteps and puffed up in small clouds around his feet, adding to the mess on his coat and boots.
     First thing after getting back to Midgar, before getting his new IDs or killing Hojo or the like, was taking a shower, and making sure his mother and father both got one too.
     The fires got a bit denser closer to the mansion, but they were able to go further than Sephiroth expected. Grimoire ventured through the flames a bit, Sephiroth standing as close to them as possible to give his grandfather as much distance as possible. When he came back out, the dead doctor chided him for that, but announced that the clones clearly hadn't been able to get that far in yet. Rather, things were starting to wind down on their own with the lack of fuel.
     Sephiroth just hoped that when things burnt out, the lab was still some degree of intact. He didn't want Lucretia to be forced to start again from scratch.
     “Do you think it'll be safe enough for the people to return to town?” he asked instead of voicing that concern.
     “I'd say to give it one more day,” Grimoire advised, looking around as they began the process of leaving, “Angeal seems to have some sort of handle on the situation, and while the line isn't up against the town, it's still close enough that moving back in so quickly would be risky. It wouldn't do to have everyone settle, only for a flare-up to happen.”
     Sephiroth nodded.
     In the silence that fell as they began to leave the area, the charm at his hip clinked comfortingly with every step.

Chapter Text

     The next day, Vincent volunteered to go check on the progress regarding the fire. If he came back with favorable news, then the people of Nibelheim would be allowed to return to their homes. As such, the camp was already buzzing with anxious energy when the small carrier appeared in the sky. The one girl, Tifa, was the one to spot it, whipping the children into an excited frenzy. Shielding his eyes, Sephiroth peered up at it.
     It was larger than a normal helicopter, but it wasn't one of the large aircraft meant for carting two dozen SOLDIERs around. At a guess, it would have a small handful of Shinra personnel aboard, with immediate emergency supplies— food, water, first aid, blankets and clothes, the like. As it drew closer and began to circle over the camp, Sephiroth and his mother began herding the townspeople to the side, clearing an area for it to land. Slowly, it came down.
     Before it had even properly landed, Sephiroth could see one unwanted figure inside.
     Hojo, somewhat predictably, was the first one out, though Zack came tumbling out quickly enough. Tseng and another Turk came out afterwards, though they hung back and watched silently as Zack pranced anxiously and Hojo stalked forwards.
     “Well?” the scientist demanded as he drew close.
     Had he not seen Lucretia yet, then? Choosing not to draw any attention to her if the man had mistaken her for a villager, Sephiroth echoed, “Well?”
     “Did you find her?” Hojo demanded, a manic glint to his eyes as he examined Sephiroth.
     “... In a sense.” he chose to reply.
     “‘In a sense?’” Hojo scoffed. “Either you did or you didn't, boy, did you find— what is that?!”
     At the vicious point and venomous hiss, Sephiroth quickly put a protective hand over his hip. The chain of the charm clinked under his palm.
     “Where,” Hojo snarled furiously, “Did you get that?! Take it off, this instant!”
     “Absolutely not.” he said firmly, turning his body to keep the man from attempting to lunge and grab it. Not that he thought such an attempt would succeed, but he wanted to decrease the chances of such a thing as far as possible.
     “It is nothing to you— that man is nothing! The Valentines are nothing but liars and madmen!” Hojo spat, lips curled in a sneer as he glared.
     The townspeople were whispering around them. None of them had expected a confrontation like this.
     The chill of Grimoire's hand laid over his shoulder.
     “If they're such madmen,” Sephiroth said firmly, looking down his nose at the director, “Then why did you steal my grandfather's research?”
     A myriad of emotions seemed to flit across Hojo's face. In the background, Sephiroth could see the Turks exchanging looks. The townspeople were alternating between watching intently and whispering.
     “Who told you that lie?” Hojo ground out, expression settling on enraged.
     “It isn't a lie,” Lucretia piped up, making the man's eyes go wide, “I remember full well who I have and haven't slept with.”
     Sephiroth shifted as he heard her approach, putting himself between her and the madman.
     “You...!” Hojo spat, pointing as if he could summon a lightning strike to smite Lucretia.
     “Me.” she agreed. “What did you do with the stagnant mako, Hojo? What use have you of Dr. Valentine's work?”
     After a moment, Hojo seemed to collect himself, sneering, “That's all you've ever thought about, isn't it? Your precious teacher's thesis. Narrow-minded woman.”
     “You're so lucky I'm dead,” Grimoire said coldly, “I'd have decked you twice over, boy— and that's not even including what I want to do after seeing that library.”
     “I'm narrow-minded?” Lucretia demanded with a scoff, creeping out from around Sephiroth. “You're the one who doctored other people's work to be about Jenova! All you ever think about is that fossil! You weren't even the one who dug it up!”
     The Turks were starting to look uncomfortable. That was a feat. Zack seemed to be watching him for cues more than anything else, eyes wide and breath a bit quick.
     “At least my work is practical,” Hojo hissed, tone slightly... feral, for lack of a better word, “Not all daydreams spun by fools analyzing prehistoric poetry!”
     “And yet your Reunion theory is bunk.” Grimoire scoffed.
     “Mother debunked the Reunion theory.” Sephiroth relayed.
     Hojo froze. “... Impossible.”
     “I disproved part of it.” Lucretia corrected, and from the corner of his eye he saw her chin tip back. “But even with that much— I'll never let her, or you, take my baby from me ever again.”
     At that, Hojo snarled, starting to lunge forward—
     The Turk Sephiroth didn't know made an alarmed noise as a whirl of red suddenly surged over the helicopter. As Hojo went down, face driven into the dirt, Sephiroth moved to defend his father— but Zack had already thrown himself in the way of the Turks, bleating out commands to wait. The people of Nibelheim were beginning to scream. Lucretia grabbed for his coat, and Sephiroth—
     It was ridiculous.
     Hojo had been horrible his entire life. Finding out all the lies and manipulation— he'd even thought, several times over the past week, about how easy it would be to kill Hojo. And yet as he looked down at Vincent crouched on Hojo's back, gun-barrel to the man's skull, his breath caught in his chest.
     Why?
     Distantly, as Vincent pulled the trigger, Sephiroth wondered what this must look like to the village children. He hoped, in a twisted way, that the event disillusioned them from their fantasies about SOLDIER, and about ever working for Shinra. He hoped as much bile rose in their throats as in his.
     A part of his mind that sounded too much like Angeal whispered about monsters.
     “Sephiroth.”
     He blinked at the chill framing his face, lifting his head. His grandfather stood in front of him, expression concerned.
     “Are you alright?” Grimoire asked gently.
     Blinking again, Sephiroth looked around. Lucretia and Vincent were both watching him, expressions concerned. It looked like Zack was trying to explain things to the Turks, though both of them looked skeptical about whatever he was saying. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see... horror, put simply. Parents turning children away, individuals staring with dropped jaws and wide eyes, people shying away as if planning to bolt into the wilderness.
     And abruptly, Sephiroth realized that he hadn't actually seen how bad it was. He was watched Vincent pull the trigger, but...
     When he tried to look, however, morbidly curious, Grimoire batted at him, chiding, “No.”
     At the same time, Vincent stepped in the way, apologizing, “I'm sorry. I should have been more tactful.”
     “About what?” Sephiroth asked, genuinely uncertain what his father meant.
     Vincent, for his part, tipped his head and began to quietly explain, “Even if there was no love lost between you, he must've always been a constant in your life. You may have hated him, but that doesn't change that a piece of your life was just violently taken away. I should have been more delicate.”
     “... It doesn't feel real.” Sephiroth admitted, trying again to look. His father thwarted this attempt by holding his arm out, spreading his cloak wide, and Lucretia by reaching out to grab onto his wrist, forcing his attention onto her.
     “Don't worry about it.” she urged. It looked like she was struggling not to look. Maybe it didn't feel real to her, either? “He's gone now,” she insisted, “He can't take you from us any longer.”
     Sephiroth let her pull him close, dipping his head down so she could kiss him. Vincent dropped his arm, making as if to step back.
     “Catch him.” Grimoire hissed. Sephiroth was quick to obey, his free hand reaching out to snatch the ragged edge of Vincent's cloak. His father froze, but then slowly curled his hand over Sephiroth's.
     He wished— and not for the first time— that his grandfather had a tangible form.
     From between his parents' shoulders, Sephiroth saw Zack awkwardly inching closer. Lifting his head, he nodded to the young commander.
     “Hi Seph. How's it going?” the boy asked, though his smile was a bit strained.
     After a moment, Sephiroth admitted, “If you could settle the townspeople, that would be much appreciated... I'm not the best at such things even under normal circumstances...”
     Zack huffed, smile becoming less strained and more fond. “I gotta get you out more— soon as this mess is over, we're going to an arcade or something, 'kay?”
     Sephiroth managed to smile back as his mother chuckled.

Chapter Text

     “The president is ordering your return.” Tseng said flatly.
     On the one hand, Sephiroth could appreciate the man not saying anything about Hojo being murdered in front of him, two SOLDIERs doing nothing to stop it. He could appreciate that Tseng had waited until the villagers were back in Nibelheim, supplies distributed, before saying anything at all. He definitely appreciated that Tseng had the tact to wait until Sephiroth and his mother both had borrowed the shower at the inn to clean up. He could even appreciate that the department had elected to send Tseng, the one Turk Sephiroth sort of tolerated, rather than anyone else, though Zack seemed to be good friends with the other one.
     “I'm busy.” he replied, just as flatly.
     “If it is a personal project, you may entrust it to the department of administrative research.”
     “Is that why so many Turks are bothering Mayor Domino in the archives?”
     Grimoire stifled laughter behind him, presumably at the pinched expression on Tseng's face. They were in a back room of the inn, while Lucretia was filling Zack in on her progress with the cure, the two of them helping the other Turk make sure the townspeople were settling back in alright.
     “Allow me to put it this way,” Sephiroth explained, “Would you entrust your personal projects to SOLDIER?”
     The Turk sighed, eyes closed as if trying to marshal patience. “With the mass desertion led by former commander Genesis Rhapsodos and the defection of former commander Angeal Hewley, SOLDIER and Shinra both depend largely on yourself, General. Your prolonged absence has been a great blow to morale.”
     “Then you've clearly been under-utilizing Zack,” Sephiroth shot back, crossing his arms over his chest, “Or, more likely, taking advantage of his good nature for your own purposes. You do realize that the only way to feel demoralized around Zack is if he himself is demoralized, no? Which, coincidentally, he often is after any assignments he does on your behalf.”
     That got Tseng clenching his jaw, just a bit.
     “Tell the president,” Sephiroth ordered, tapping his fingers against the table between them, “That I am working on the issue of the deserters, and will return when I am ready to.”
     At that, Vincent seemed to emerge from the shadows of the inn— somehow, there weren't many shadows to begin with— and asked, “Would you like to hear what I found?”
     “Please.” Sephiroth nodded as he got up. Tseng stayed at the table, blatantly listening in.
     Nodding, his father replied, “The fires are largely out. By this point, I imagine even the remains have been smothered. If not, they will be by nightfall. The manor itself was mostly destroyed, but the stairwell down and the lab both survived. The lab itself seems to have been designed to survive such disasters, because when I checked, it still had power— without the blueprints I can't confirm anything, but I would wager the lab was on a personal power grid.”
     So Lucretia's work was completely spared, then. That was good.
     Vincent cleared his throat, looking somewhat awkward as he confessed, “I'll have to return to the reactor for a new sample at some point. The first one was... dropped. But it shouldn't take nearly as long, now that I'm familiar with the route and system.”
     “I'm just glad you're okay.” Sephiroth dismissed, shaking his head. After saying that, he hesitated before shyly reaching out with one hand. Vincent seemed to understand, reaching back and giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.
     “Watching the gears turn in his head is fascinating.” Grimoire commented, making Sephiroth glance over his shoulder. Tseng promptly looked away when he did so. “Though I suppose he doesn't know who Vincent is, does he?”
     Sephiroth gave a considering hum, turning back to Vincent. His father tilted his head, and Sephiroth was proud to say he could identify this particular head-tilt as a silent question. He tipped his own head towards Tseng, looking pointedly at Vincent. After a moment, Vincent seemed to understand, nodding silently and letting go of his hand. As Sephiroth left the room, dead doctor in tow, he saw Vincent sit pointedly across from Tseng, looking very much like a predator stalking an unsuspecting young animal.
     He still had no clue what kind of Turk his father had once been, but Sephiroth suspected Tseng was in for it.
     “We'll probably return to the lab tomorrow...” Sephiroth murmured as he and Grimoire left the inn. To anyone around, he hoped it just looked like he was thinking out loud.
     “It's a shame he drove Vincent to kill him,” Grimoire said with a click of his tongue, shaking his head, “Though I doubt we actually would have gotten my research out of him. Rotten boy. We'll have to keep searching for answers ourselves, I suppose— but don't worry, I have my priorities straight. Focus on finding that cure for now. I don't mind getting to spend time with my grandson.”
     There was a thin coat of ash over the town. Not nearly as much as in the forest, but enough to be inconvenient and leave footprints in. Most everyone outside— and quite a few inside, most likely— were wearing cloths over their faces to keep from inhaling the stuff as they swept it away. Sephiroth was grateful for it at that moment— if anyone commented on the dampness of his eyes, he could blame it on all the particulate in the air.
     Zack was surprisingly restrained when coming to greet him— apparently the boy had figured out that rampant bouncing with the ash everywhere made everyone miserable. But all the same, Sephiroth was glad to see him again.
     “So have you really just... not had a surname until now?” Zack asked curiously as Sephiroth accepted the offered cloth to tie over his face.
     “Never. It was irrelevant, according to Hojo.” he replied, sweeping his hair over his shoulder so he could knot the cloth properly.
     Zack darted forward, helpfully holding Sephiroth's hair out of the way. “Sounds like it's more that he was just jealous or something.” the boy sniffed disdainfully.
     “Very likely.” Grimoire offered.
     “According to the doctor, yes.” Sephiroth relayed.
     Zack blinked a few times as he stepped back, then awkwardly asked, “Where, uh...?”
     “Valentine?” Sephiroth replied, emphasizing the name just a bit as he tipped his head towards Grimoire.
     It took a moment, but Zack caught on, smiling right through the handkerchief over his mouth and nose. “Hi, Doc!” the boy whispered.
     “Hello, Zack.” Grimoire replied with a chuckle.
     “He says hello.” Sephiroth informed the young commander just as quietly. Looking around, he asked in a normal voice, “How is it?”
     “Cissnei and your mom said I was making more mess than I was cleaning, so I'm kinda just wandering around in case anyone needs any muscle. The local kids heckled me a lot about SOLDIER, though. I guess they didn't realize there's a minimum enlistment age?” Zack answered, turning to trot around the town.
     Sephiroth followed after the boy, elaborating, “Apparently one of their number left for Midgar recently with intent to enlist. Cloud Strife, I believe was the name given to me.”
     “That's right.” his grandfather confirmed as the three of them sort of meandered to the very outskirts of the town.
     “Huh,” Zack mused, watching the flashes of white and jade between the trees as they walked, “I guess when I get back, I'll look him up. I mean, if he came from a backwater place like this, I bet he's struggling to fit in the way I once did.”
     “I find that hard to believe.” Sephiroth declared.
     Zack chuckled, shaking his head. “Nope! When I first got into Midgar, I was a dumb country bumpkin with a pretty thick jungle accent! I think back then, people found it kinda weird how extroverted I was! But now I'm all acclimatized and I talk more like a city-slicker, so people don't pay it much mind, even when I use words like ‘ma’ and ‘pa’ instead of ‘mom’ and ‘dad.’”
     Sephiroth watched the flickers of motion as well, turning the image over in his head. As he pondered what Zack had told him, he also wondered idly if those clones in particular were watching for any hungry, displaced animals that might try to attack the town. Even if he was still upset, he appreciated Angeal's helping out.
     “... I can't see it,” he confessed, arms crossing loosely, “You draw everyone in so easily...”
     Again, Zack's smile cut through the fabric hiding it. “It's a two-way street, remember? People see how eager I am to meet them halfway, and take a chance on me.”
     He did remember that conversation. It felt so long ago, now, even though he knew in actuality it had only been a week. Maybe a little more than.
     Looking away, Sephiroth quietly admitted, “I don't know if I want to reach like that any more.”
     Zack made a sad noise. Grimoire's hands settled around his elbows as the dead doctor stepped in front of him. “And there's nothing wrong with that,” his grandfather said firmly, gaze intent, “Everyone is different, and you're allowed to not be as overtly social as your commander.”
     “Oh, no,” Zack groaned as Sephiroth nodded, “I completely forgot about that! Quick, tell me what he said before someone overhears and calls us crazy!”
     Both Sephiroth and Grimoire laughed at that.

Chapter Text

     “Put Vincent on. Now.”
     After a moment, Sephiroth hung up.
     “Who was it?” Lucretia asked, gently brushing his hair.
     “The director of the Turks. I don't care much for him.” he answered, putting his PHS away.
     “Who is he?” Vincent asked from where he was tending to his gun.
     “A man named Verdot. I don't know much about him beyond that I don't like him.”
     “First name Veld?” Vincent guessed.
     “Oh— your partner?” Lucretia asked.
     “... I'm not going to suddenly like him just because of that.”
     Vincent actually snorted a bit at Sephiroth's words, while Grimoire chuckled, “He was a rather icy fellow, wasn't he?”
     The four of them were in one of the inn's rooms. Zack was just across the hall, and the two Turks were next door. It was late at night, with everyone exhausted from trying to restore the town. Most buildings got away with no damage, though a few had small scorches on their rooves from where the wind had carried embers through the sky. The biggest issue was the ash that was everywhere— including in the town water supply. Though apparently there was also a mako leak somewhere getting into the water, because Zack had found a small mako stone on the verge of becoming materia in the water-tower. The concentration of mako in the water couldn't have been too high, or the town simply wouldn't exist, but Sephiroth had drafted and sent an email to Urban Development in Midgar to let them know it needed looking at.
     Before Vincent could say anything more about Director Verdot, however, there was a knock at the door. Grimoire got up and peered through the wall before announcing, “It's Tseng.”
     “Tseng.” Sephiroth relayed to his parents.
     “Oh dear.” Lucretia sighed, gently gathering his hair up as if she intended to braid it. She didn't, but Sephiroth wouldn't have minded if she did.
     After a moment, Vincent got up and moved to crack the door open. Apparently that was more than enough for Tseng, because a PHS was poked through the crack with an announcement of, “For you.”
     Sephiroth scoffed, rolling his eyes. His father observed the action, then slowly put the PHS to his ear. “Hello?”
     Thanks to his enhancements, Sephiroth was able to hear the demand of, “The color of the chocobo you bet on the day we got assigned as partners.”
     “It's rude to eavesdrop.” Lucretia hummed, tapping the top of his head with the hairbrush. “Would you like to do mine?”
     “I can hear him anyway.” Sephiroth pointed out as he stood up and moved to sit behind his mother. As Vincent answered green, but with a blue crest, he asked, “How could you tell?”
     “You were watching very intently,” she chuckled, handing him the brush, “My hair is wavy at the ends— not a lot, just a little. So tease it through, don't just pull.”
     It sounded like Verdot was yelling at Vincent, who looked impressively nonplussed about it.
     “I don't think mine's ever waved...” Sephiroth mused, carefully following her directions and gently teasing the brush through the last few inches of her hair.
     “No, I imagine not,” Lucretia hummed, sounding content, “Your hair is a lot like Vincent's, actually. I imagine without the J-cells, it would've been black, like all the Valentine men.”
     “I think the silver suits you, though.” Grimoire commented as he watched his son. Vincent murmured a congratulations on making director into the phone, which earned a string of explicatives so loud that Lucretia and Grimoire both jumped.
     “I would have liked black hair,” Sephiroth sighed, gently pulling the brush through the length of his mother's hair, “And hazel eyes.”
     “You're perfect no matter what you look like, because you're my baby.” Lucretia declared firmly, hands folding in her lap and head tipping back.
     “Exactly.” Grimoire agreed.
     Vincent was making a comment about how he should have shot Hojo twenty years ago. Verdot sounded exasperated about it.
     “You're eavesdropping again.” Lucretia commented, reaching back to poke him.
     “I don't like the Turks— Father excluded— or them knowing my business.”
     “And yet you knowingly set Vincent on the one earlier.” Grimoire chuckled.
     “That's different.” Sephiroth huffed.
     “Hm?” Lucretia asked, turning her head to look at him.
     “The doctor.” he muttered, pushing her back so he could keep brushing her hair.
     “Aah.” she said in understanding. As she turned her head back, she commented, “Nobody likes the Turks in their business— the best way to keep them out, I've found, is to be boring and normal.”
     “I've never had that option, unfortunately.” Sephiroth sighed. As long as he could remember, people had always known everything about him. If it wasn't Hojo proudly broadcasting his personal information to the world, it was the Turks watching from their shadows. He had gotten decently good, in his own opinion, of hiding things from them— by virtue of acting like the things he was hiding were much like his mother proposed, boring and normal. But that wasn't the same as being boring and normal.
     “I'm sorry no one's been willing to fight for you before, sweetie,” Lucretia said in a mournful tone, turning around again with her arms outstretched, “But I promise I'm going to do my best from now on, okay?”
     As Vincent murmured about family matters, Sephiroth leaned into his mother's hug. It was almost funny, how much he wasn't a tactile person— but when it came to his mother, he sought her touch like a plant craved sunlight. Even his grandfather's ethereal not-touches, he didn't shy from and took comfort in. But then again, most people didn't touch him with intent to comfort, did they? Hojo certainly hadn't.
     If he really thought about it, Sephiroth suspected that he still wouldn't appreciate just anyone trying to touch him. In fact, one of the things he liked best about Zack was how the boy was incredibly tactile— but even after becoming friendly, had never once tried to push for Sephiroth to let him touch. Zack was good at reading boundaries on others— it was one of the reasons he'd made lieutenant commander so quickly.
     But his mother's hugs and kisses were a different matter all together and Sephiroth still stood by his statement that anyone humiliated by their mother's affection was a fool.
     The sound of the door opening made him look up, grip tightening on Lucretia.
     “Easy,” Grimoire soothed, “Vincent's just giving the PHS back.”
     So he was, though he also stood there silently for almost a minute. Sephiroth hadn't heard him hang up, but he supposed his mother had been doing her best to distract him. After that minute of silence, though, Vincent closed the door and turned towards them. For a moment, he watched. Lucretia noticed, and let Sephiroth go just enough to wave. At that, Vincent nodded his head and went back to his gun.
     “That was an invitation to join them, Vincent.” Grimoire sighed, giving his head a despairing shake. “This boy— what am I going to do with you lot?”
     So he said, but he was smiling, and his tone seemed fondly amused.
     “So,” Lucretia hummed, slowly letting Sephiroth go and turning towards Vincent, “What did your friend have to say?”
     Sephiroth quickly located the brush— it had fallen to his lap at some point— and began brushing her hair again as his father shrugged. “That I should have talked to him before disposing of Hojo, so he could've arranged for things to be quiet.”
     “The doctor says absolutely not.” Sephiroth relayed, Grimoire nodding furiously.
     Vincent nodded, continuing, “He may come to see me if he can push his duties off on someone else.”
     Sephiroth barely withheld a groan as he finished brushing Lucretia's hair. If the director did show his face, Sephiroth would be conveniently too busy figuring out how to scoop ash out of a water tower. Grimoire, however, seemed to notice his displeasure, because as his parents discussed what they would say to Director Verdot, the dead doctor reached out to pat the back of his hand.
     “Don't worry,” Grimoire consoled, “Maybe you'll get lucky and he'll pull the department out of your business on Vincent's behalf.”
     He doubted it, but the sentiment was nice.

Chapter Text

     “Sephiroth told you, didn't he?” Lucretia huffed through the mask over her mouth and nose, “I'm working on a cure to the genetic degradation that lost you your SOLDIERs.”
     Tseng didn't say anything, picking his way delicately through the ash after her. Sephiroth watched him like a hawk, and he didn't doubt that Vincent was doing the same. Grimoire seemed more concerned with the environment, looking around with a persistent frown. Zack and his Turk— Cissnei, apparently— were staying in town while the rest of them headed to the lab.
     “I won't lie and say I'm not hurting for samples, but I've already begun making progress.” Lucretia declared. Chin tipped back defiantly, she continued, “Give me some time and I'll have it all figured out. You can be the third to know about it.”
     “Third.” Tseng echoed blankly.
     “Sephiroth first, since he's the most impacted by it, then his friend, since he's currently the second-most impacted.”
     “This is going to be devastating for a long time,” Grimoire said, drawing Sephiroth's attention, “It's already hard for things to grow in this area due to climate and soil deficiencies. The mako veins that the reactor pulls from might be able to combat that if it gets shut down, but that would leave the region without power. The local fauna will feel the impact of this most acutely, and there's a non-zero chance it will displace something that doesn't play nice with humans.”
     Sephiroth grimaced. He'd already known a lot of that, he thought, but hearing it said out loud by someone of a scientific background... He'd have to make sure he took responsibility, he supposed. After all, he had been thinking about wrestling the rights to the manor from the president— if that suceeded, moving into the area would only be smoother if no one hated him. He thought, anyway. Perhaps he should talk to Zack about integration into small town communities.
     When they reached the remains of the manor, Sephiroth couldn't help but cringe. Most of the front half had been caved in, and the fire had gnawed away a lot of the remaining support. At least after fighting on the roof, there was less to support. But standing out in the middle of it all was a stone column— the staircase down into the lab. It looked like Vincent had decided it was more effective to tear a hole in the side rather than go up to the top.
     Only, at the sight, his father stopped them all, silently drawing his gun.
     “Oh dear.” Lucretia murmured, Tseng mirroring Vincent and drawing his own firearm.
     Vincent gave him a pointed look, prompting him to nod and creep over alongside his father. Grimoire dutifully entered the stairwell and headed down. For Tseng, Sephiroth leaned into it as well, tipping his head as if listening.
     “It's dark enough I can't see anything,” his grandfather called up, “But I can't immediately hear anything. And if it was either of your friends, I suspect they would have reacted to me by now.”
     “If there is anything, it's too far back for me to hear.” Sephiroth declared.
     Vincent gave a curt nod, then began to creep down himself. Sephiroth followed, though not without giving Tseng a very pointed glare. The Turk didn't react, but took a half step closer to Lucretia all the same.
     The dead doctor couldn't detect anything, nor could Sephiroth. After a brief sweep of the place in darkness, Vincent turned on the lights.
     “Someone's been here, at least. Look.” Grimoire urged. Moving over to his grandfather, Sephiroth found a heap of used blood-drawing equipment.
     “They drew blood,” he relayed to Vincent, “A lot of it.”
     All three of them turned towards the unit used to store samples. Vincent was the one to move towards it, inspecting it with critical eyes and feather-light fingers. Giving Sephiroth a brief nod to indicate nothing was wrong, he opened it.
     When they had left previously, there had been five samples. Maybe more, if Lucretia had also stored the results of her mixing them in there. Five neat packs of blood— Lucretia's, Zack's, Sephiroth's, the griffon clone's, and Angeal's. Now, however, there were more. At least two dozen more. As Vincent slowly drew one out, Sephiroth caught sight of the handwriting labeling each one. It was neat, but blocky, with a slight slant to it as if the writer tilted the pack while writing.
     “‘G-clone, human.’” Vincent read off the pack in his hand before passing it over to Sephiroth. As he stared down at the familiar handwriting, his father poked through the other samples. “The rest are variations of A-clones or the beasts said clones were crafted from.”
     Sephiroth swallowed, handing the pack of blood back. It was dark too, like the griffon's had been. A glance into the unit showed an even mix of dark and bright blood samples.
     Grimoire's hand reached out to rest over his wrist as Vincent replaced the sample. Looking up, he found his grandfather studying him. “... I'm alright.” he murmured.
     Vincent glanced over his shoulder, but quickly turned and began checking over the rest of the lab.
     “You don't have to be.” Grimoire said firmly, positioning himself as if holding Sephiroth's shoulders. His expression was stern. “You're human too, and you have a right to feel whatever. You can be upset that he chose something neutral over siding with you completely, especially when it sounds like he's done that so many times in the past, even despite the current situation.”
     Sephiroth swallowed, looking down at his feet. Dust and stray swirls of ash littered the floor, turning his boots grey rather than black. “... I'm just glad he decided to help at all.” he admitted quietly.
     “And that is perfectly valid.” his grandfather said firmly.
     Encouraged by that, Sephiroth also admitted, “I wish he would just... stay. If not for me, then for Zack.”
     “It is no failing on either of your parts. It is on him and him alone. However, by this point, if neither of you decide to ever forgive him— well, that's his own fault as well for alienating the two of you, isn't it?” Grimoire said with a huff.
     In moments like this, Sephiroth could see how Grimoire and Mayor Domino had been friends. He nodded, quietly reaching out.
     This time, he was more put-together, and could properly ‘hug’ his grandfather.

Chapter Text

     “So how's the research going now that she's got... more stuff?” Zack asked as he helped sweep the ash from the roof of the inn. The current plan was to remove as much of the stuff as possible from the town, then empty the water tower and scrub the ash out. Most of it had already been swept up, packed into buckets, and then taken downhill. A lot of what was left was being attacked with damp rags and mops. Zack and Sephiroth were taking care of the rooves while the townspeople scrubbed at walls and windows. The Turks were at the manor with Vincent and Lucretia.
     “Apparently, your sample is... an anomaly.” Sephiroth informed the boy. Checking below, he shoved another clump of damp ash off the inn. It hit the ground with an unappealing splat. “You have no detectable reaction to J-cells in any form, she says. She may ask you for a second sample, just to make sure it isn't a fluke.”
     “Totally! Recreating results and all that, right? If I'm the breakthrough she needs, she can have more blood!” Zack declared with a determined nod, sweeping his own glob of ash off the roof.
     “It makes sense, in a way,” Grimoire commented, seeming to examine Zack, “If Jenova is virulent in nature, as the research suggests, then it stands to reason that someone would produce natural antibodies against it. Perhaps he had an ancestor who encountered Jenova, or was close to the Cetra.”
     And wasn't that food for thought. Because it had been... ages ago, hadn't it? For Jenova to be considered a near-fossilized biomass— for Jenova to have been responsible for wiping out the Cetra. Was it possible that Zack was the product of a line that evolved to fight Jenova? And if that was the case, then how ironic was it that Zack was so close with the ‘son’ of Jenova? Sephiroth couldn't help but huff a bit at the thought.
     “What?” Zack asked. “Did, uh, the doc say something?”
     Sephiroth shoved another heap of wet ash off the roof as he replied, “The doctor proposed that if you truly don't have any reaction to J-cells, then you may produce natural antibodies that defend against their virulent nature. Perhaps you had an ancestor that was effected, or was in contact with the Cetra.”
     “... Huh.” Zack said thoughtfully, staring down at the piles of ash below.
     “And I found it funny,” Sephiroth continued, “For the one who possibly evolved to fight Jenova to be on such good terms with a Jenova-hybrid.”
     “Well, when you put it that way, we sound like star-crossed lovers outta some trashy romance novel!”
     Grimoire snorted. “He has you there.”
     “I'm afraid I can't recite much poetry for you,” Sephiroth noted drily, preparing to leave the inn roof, “Though Genesis ensured my familiarity with Loveless.”
     “Don't you dare quote that at me! I get enough outta him! Gah, and Kunsel just went to see one of the stage adaptations recently, so he won't shut up about it either! So you're really not allowed to!” Zack ranted, following him off the roof, Grimoire jumping down after them.
     Sephiroth smirked a bit as he made for the next building.
     “You jerk!” Zack burst out, swatting at him. “You were having me on, weren't you! Shame on you, Seph! Get back here, I'm gonna dump sludge down your back!”
     “Why would I let you?” Sephiroth shot back as Grimoire shook his head with a quirt comment about boys. He did lengthen his stride a bit when he saw Zack stoop to grab a handful of sludge.
     Between them and the townspeople, soon the only thing left to do was empty and clean the water tower, and then the water well, which would be a much longer process and neither he or Zack were qualified to help with. Zack, for his part, shooed him away. The boy told him to tell Lucretia he would happily give her as many samples as she needed, but that maybe he should make sure Vincent wasn't bullying the Turks too badly. Apparently his friend had called the man ‘terrifying,’ which Zack claimed was saying something, because she wasn't scared of anyone. Sephiroth thought that was a bit of an exaggeration on someone's part, but said he'd do his best.
     “If I may make a suggestion?” Grimoire said softly as the two of them headed for the manor.
     “Go ahead.” he murmured after double-checking that no one was around.
     “Don't let Angeal or Genesis find out our theory about Zack.”
     He looked at his grandfather. Against the pale grey of the scorched forest, the man looked washed out and... aged, in a way. Especially with the serious expression he currently wore.
     “From what I know of their mental states, which is admittedly not a lot,” Grimoire said with a bit of a grimace, “Neither of them would react well to the idea. And at the moment, it's all conjecture. We have no proof of anything. Lucretia doesn't even know if she can get the results consistently yet. But if either of them were to find out... well. Genesis, in particular.”
     The dead doctor didn't even have to say anything specific. Sephiroth knew full well what the man was getting at. If the theory was true, then that made Zack one of two things— a savior, or a threat.
     “I'll tell him to do the same tonight.” Sephiroth nodded.
     “And even if the theory is right,” Grimoire sighed, shaking his head, “It might not have had anything to do with Jenova or the Cetra. It may just be the one-in-a-million chance that he happened to have the right genetics.”
     “We all know which story Shinra would tell, though.” Sephiroth remarked drily as they approached the remains of the manor.
     His grandfather gave a very aggressive sigh. He'd thought only Genesis capable of that before.
     As he moved down the stairs to the lab, Vincent greeted him, perched on the bottom-most stair as if bored. It looked like Tseng and Cissnei were back in the library while his mother didn't even look up from what she was doing. After a bit of deliberation, Sephiroth sat a couple steps above Vincent.
     “How's it going?” he asked quietly.
     “Those two tried to bargain with her for the first few hours,” Vincent hummed, nodding towards the library, “They get points for stubbornness. If she would convince you to return to Midgar, they'd relocate and reinstate her. Eventually she just began ignoring them. I think she's focusing on the A-cells, at the moment.”
     “Makes sense,” Grimoire hummed, wandering over to peer at her work, “It's what she has the most of, and therefore can learn the most about.”
     Clearing his throat a bit, Sephiroth called, “Zack said he'll happily give more samples as you need them.”
     His mother's thumbs-up clipped Grimoire's shoulder, but she didn't react otherwise.
     “Now why couldn't you be this focused when you were my assistant?” Grimoire lamented, though Sephiroth thought it was in good humor. He didn't think the man would be smiling if it wasn't.
     “... What they should have offered,” Sephiroth said idly as he watched his mother work, “Is complete declassification of all Hojo's files.”
     “Bring it up when they try again.” Vincent agreed.
     “You think they will?”
     “Poor Turks if they don't.”
     As Grimoire came to kneel at the foot of the stairs, Sephiroth pointed out, “Their director may be on his way, though.”
     After a moment, his father nodded. “Good point.”
     “You don't seem concerned.”
     Vincent shrugged. “It's just Veld.”

Chapter Text

     Before Sephiroth could even think to draw Masamune, Vincent twisted out of his captor's grip. The sight made him exhale in relief, though he still watched the altercation like a hawk, prepared to intervene at a moment's notice.
     “I thought you said he was your friend?” he cautiously put forth.
     “If I was his friend,” Director Verdot seethed, glaring furiously at Vincent, “Then why didn't he come to me— why didn't you come find me, you moron?! I could have helped! I could have done something!”
     After a moment spent quickly pacing around so the man couldn't grapple him again, Vincent replied, “It's complicated.”
     “Complicated?!” Director Verdot roared.
     This time Sephiroth couldn't keep from darting forward and throwing the director to the dirt. The children watching in the background cheered at the action.
     The Turk director had arrived as everyone had woken up. Zack and Lucretia were still inside the inn, in case things went south. Tseng and Cissnei had beat everyone else outside and had been whispering to Verdot before Sephiroth and Vincent arrived. Now they were standing by the inn-door. Grimoire was standing off to the side, expression serious. A great deal of town was watching and listening in.
     “Let him up,” Vincent advised, briefly catching Sephiroth's wrist and tugging him back, “He won't hurt me. He just rough-houses.”
     “Won't hurt you my ass...”
     “Veld, don't antagonize him.”
     Grumbling, the Turk director got to his feet, still glowering. All the same, he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and declaring, “So what the hell family matter warranted you going off half-cocked like that?”
     Blinking, Sephiroth looked to his father. “You didn't tell him?”
     “It's safer in person.” Vincent shrugged.
     But that implied that Tseng and Cissnei hadn't said anything either. And Sephiroth knew that he and Hojo had gone into his relation to the Valentines in front of them. Had that been something Vincent had told them not to say? Or had they trusted that as a Turk himself, Vincent would tell their director everything? Some combination of the two, perhaps?
     Before Sephiroth could dwell on that any longer, Vincent nudged him to turn towards Verdot. After a moment, the Turk director's eyes drifted down to his hip— to the Cerberus charm hanging from his belt.
     “... Son of a bitch.”
     “I only just found out.” Vincent shrugged.
     “Son of a bitch!” the director repeated, snarling a bit. “You and Hojo both! And you! Did you know?! Is that why you were snooping around?!”
     “No,” Sephiroth replied flatly, “I was and still am genuinely trying to locate Dr. Valentine's missing research.”
     “Yeah right...” Verdot scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I'm not having the rest of this conversation where just anyone can hear.”
     After a moment, Vincent nodded, turning back towards the inn. Sephiroth impassively held Verdot's glare a few seconds longer, then followed his father. The townspeople were already whispering. Some of them looked particularly eager— but then again, Zack had made the claim recently that to them, everything going on had to be like a live soap opera. Sephiroth couldn't say he knew too much about soap operas, but his mother had cringed and put her face in her hands at the statement while Grimoire had hummed considerately.
     Once inside, Verdot called for everyone to gather around, glaring the whole time. He faltered a bit at the sight of Lucretia, but otherwise just looked furious. Zack squirmed under the heavy glare, a guilty expression on his face, as most of them took seats around the room.
     “So,” Verdot growled, arms crossed over his chest again, “What are you lot not telling me?”
     “Um...!” Zack squeaked, gaze shooting to Sephiroth. The action was about as subtle as a zolom, and Verdot's glare became riveted on him as a result.
     “General.”
     “Director.” he replied blithely, crossing his own arms and leaning back in his seat. Grimoire chuckled, shaking his head.
     “This all started with you asking about Dr. Valentine.” the director pressed.
     “So it did.”
     He thought he saw Vincent's lips twitch in a brief smile.
     Verdot rolled his eyes up, looking exasperated. Sephiroth felt vindicated at that, so he shrugged. “I heard that he died in the field while studying something related to variations of ‘corrupted mako,’ and suspected that there may be some correlation between his research and the SOLDIER treatments.”
     “Not overheard someone else saying there might be a connection?” Verdot asked, tone withering.
     “Either way,” Sephiroth dismissed, “I went looking for the research in question, only to find it missing everywhere I turned. It was a stroke of luck that I found Mayor Domino's name in the journal you showed me. He was able to point me towards the doctor's personal assistant, Lucretia Crescent, though her files were badly gutted as well. With his help, I found that the last place she had been seen before being declared missing was Nibelheim. While searching for clues as to her whereabouts, Lieutenant Commander Fair and I discovered Agent Valentine. With his help, we were able to track down Dr. Crescent's location. She offered to tell me about my conception, Dr. Valentine's research, and to study the genetic degradation effecting certain SOLDIERs.”
     “I didn't realize that Vincent never knew Sephiroth was his,” Lucretia interjected, looking down at her hands, “I thought he knew. Though I can't say I'm surprised Hojo told everyone that he was Sephiroth's father. He probably wanted to isolate Sephiroth from others— to make him easier to control.”
     “... Complicated, huh.” Verdot said, looking to Vincent.
     “It's your fault for not believing me.”
     Rolling his eyes, Verdot asked, “And what about these sightings of Hewley and Rhapsodos?”
     “Angeal is cooperating with the research to find a cure,” Sephiroth said sharply, narrowing his eyes a bit, “And has yet to cause any harm to civilians or other third parties. I will take responsibility for him.”
     “And Rhapsodos?” Verdot prompted, raising an eyebrow. Zack was watching intently too, leaning forward with wide eyes.
     “... I will take responsibility.” Sephiroth replied grimly, looking away. Lucretia reached out to squeeze his knee, and Grimoire rested a hand on his shoulder.
     “... Understood.” Verdot said. The tone of his voice made Sephiroth think he actually did understand. The director's arms uncrossed, and he looked to Lucretia. “Your research?”
     She straightened up, declaring, “I have some prior knowledge as a member of Project J, specifically as an assistant manager on sub-Project S. Right now I'm analyzing various genetic samples from the affected SOLDIERs, as well as myself, Zack, and the original Jenova specimen. Thanks to Angeal's contributions, I've begun to make significant progress. If I had access to the original Genesis for a blood sample, possibly a bone marrow sample, I believe I'll have enough to start making true breakthroughs.”
     “Bone marrow? Do, uh, I need to give bone marrow too?” Zack asked with a frown.
     “It doesn't hurt much.” Sephiroth reassured.
     “Seph I love you but your pain scale is different from mine.”
     “It's similar to a blood transfusion,” Lucretia said with a chuckle, the redheaded Turk smiling as well, “It will hurt a bit more, admittedly. You'll want to put ice on it and probably stay off your feet for a while, but it's nothing serious beyond that.”
     “Sorry I doubted you, Seph.”
     “He never ceases to be precious.” Grimoire chuckled, making Sephiroth smile for a moment. Zack narrowed his eyes knowingly, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout.
     “We'll keep watch for Rhapsodos. General—”
     “Sephiroth should remain with his mother, Veld,” Vincent interjected, “Genesis made one attempt to kidnap her already. There's nothing saying he won't make another attempt.”
     “And I'm not going to Midgar just because of that, I know that's just a ploy to get Sephiroth to go back.” Lucretia huffed, tipping her head back defiantly.
     “Understood.” Verdot nodded. The other two Turks looked indignant. “Once Lieutenant Commander Fair has recovered from his bone marrow aspiration, we'll return him to Midgar to stand by for any Genesis sightings.”
     “Ugh. Only as long as I get to visit my girlfriend real quick while I'm there! There's been so much crazy stuff going on, I gotta tell her at least half of this nonsense!” Zack whined, rolling his head dramatically.
     “Zack.” Tseng said warningly.
     “You hush!”
     “And the president?” Sephiroth asked, focusing on the Turk director.
     “He can deal with it for the time being.” Verdot huffed, turning away. “Running around after those two takes up way too much manpower, and if your mother can solve that problem then I'm in favor of it.”
     Vincent gave a soft huff that had the director rounding on him. “Don't get too cocky, you punk— I still owe you a thrashing!”
     “It's coming together,” Grimoire murmured from behind Sephiroth, “Slowly but surely.”

Chapter Text

     Sephiroth rolled over again, looking at Grimoire this time. The light from the window was murky, streaked with ash that hadn't been scrubbed clean yet. It made his grandfather seem to ripple a bit in the mottled shadows. Lucretia was asleep in the other bed, and Vincent was speaking with the Turks in the room next door. Zack was asleep in his room across the hall. But Sephiroth couldn't sleep.
     Grimoire seemed to notice, turning away from the window. “What's wrong?” the dead doctor asked quietly.
     “... Everything is coming together.” Sephiroth murmured back.
     Grimoire hummed, coming over to kneel next to the bed. “Isn't that a good thing?” he asked, fingers gently brushing over Sephiroth's temple as if to push his bangs from his face.
     “... It means eventually we'll have to...”
     He trailed off, unable to voice the thought completely. Instead, he reached out to trace Grimoire's face. His grandfather let him, waiting with a patient yet indulgent expression. Sephiroth moved his fingertips across the cold space where Grimoire was, outlining the man's face. Everyone said that Sephiroth looked like Lucretia— but right now he found himself searching Grimoire for any familiar features.
     “... Eventually we won't be able to put this off any longer.” he managed to say, voice soft in the dark of the room.
     “Not without a good reason, no.” Grimoire conceded.
     Sephiroth couldn't keep himself from sighing, slowly bringing his hand back to his chest.
     Grimoire gave him a gentle smile. “Perhaps calling it a ‘good’ reason is inaccurate. A ‘logical’ reason might be better. ‘Sound,’ perhaps.”
     “I don't want you to leave.” Sephiroth murmured, itching to reach out and grab the man. But there was nothing to grab or hold on to. No way for Sephiroth to keep Grimoire from leaving.
     “That sounds like a perfectly good reason to me.” Grimoire chuckled, reaching out again and making that same gesture— as if he could actually tuck Sephiroth's hair behind his ear if he tried hard enough.
     “But we don't know enough about... this.” Sephiroth pointed out. He could see Lucretia through Grimoire's shoulder. She was still and peaceful, side rising and falling under the blanket, lips slightly parted. He wondered if he slept more like her or Vincent— silent or softly snoring. Swallowing, he continued, “It could be hurting us.”
     “Slowly boiling a frog, eh?” Grimoire hummed, shifting until he was sat on his heels instead of kneeling. “There isn't anything saying we can't keep looking into it. We just don't have to do anything beyond that if we find nothing wrong. But... you should know, Sephiroth, that if we do find something wrong, I will be the first to push for this to be undone. I want you to live, happily, healthily, and for a very long time.”
     “But you'll leave me.” Sephiroth pointed out, rolling onto his back.
     “I'll wait for you,” Grimoire said patiently, the coolness of his hand settling over Sephiroth's, “I might not have any memory of it, but I can't have come from nowhere. If I have no choice but to leave, I'm sure that's roughly where I'll return— and I'll wait there for all of you.”
     Sephiroth slowly turned his head back towards his grandfather. Grimoire met his gaze head-on, soft and kind. Before he could say anything, though, the sound of people in the hall had him sitting up slightly.
     “I doubt he and I will ever get along, Vince.” he heard Director Verdot remark drily.
     “That's fine.” Vincent replied quietly. So quietly that Sephiroth suspected the only reason he heard was that they were right outside the door. “... He's mine, Veld.”
     “So I've noticed. Don't know how I never saw it before— he looks a hell of a lot like you, after all. Dye his hair black and you'd be brothers.” Director Verdot huffed. Sephiroth had to actively keep himself from lunging out of the room, especially since he had just been looking for any Valentine-esque features he might have.
     “I abandoned him— abandoned both of them.” Vincent murmured, voice raw and pained in a way Sephiroth hadn't heard since the cave.
     “... Can't say anything about Lucretia,” Verdot replied in an uncharacteristically gentle voice, “But the general doesn't seem to give a damn about you being gone before. For Shinra's sake, he was willing to clean my clock for you!”
     “He says as if he wasn't asking for it.” Grimoire commented playfully. Sephiroth allowed himself a quiet huff, smirking just a little.
     “... How do I be a parent, Veld...?” Vincent asked, voice wobbling just a bit.
     Silence fell in the hall. Sephiroth found himself holding his breath, hands bunched up in the bedsheets. It seemed like Grimoire was listening intently as well.
     “... I don't think anyone ever knows that, partner,” Verdot finally answered, sighing a bit, “You just have to... be there for them, and roll with the punches. I'm not going to say you have an advantage, coming into the game when he's already all grown up— in fact, I think that's a pretty big disadvantage. It's frustrating as all hell while it's happening, but raising them from diapers is one of the most rewarding things in the world, and...”
     The director trailed off. Sephiroth couldn't help but sit up more fully. He was curious now— the way the man spoke implied that he had at least one child of his own. Which... felt like it went against some core part of being a Turk, in a way.
     “... Veld?” Vincent prompted softly.
     “... He's there, Vince,” Verdot said, voice more firm, “And he seems to want you with him. That's the important part. As long as he wants you, you stay, and you make sure you keep a light on and a door open.”
     Silence fell in the hall once again.
     “Sleep well, partner.” Verdot sighed, footsteps heading back for the other room.
     After a moment, the door opened, Vincent slipping inside. The man paused when he saw Sephiroth was sitting up.
     “Tell him,” Grimoire said quietly, standing up and returning to the window, “That I never figured it out either.”
     “Grandfather says,” Sephiroth murmured, making Vincent blink, “That you're doing just fine.”
     Grimoire gave him a chiding look, but didn't say anything against his words. Vincent, meanwhile, seemed to lose a line of tension in his shoulders, giving a slow and deep nod.

Chapter Text

     “Ow ow ow ow...!” Zack whined, face screwed up and feet kicking against the air. The boy had jack-knifed and had yet to put his feet back down.
     “Just a little longer,” Lucretia soothed, “You're doing very well, Zack— we're almost done.”
     “You said that!” the young SOLDIER wailed, grip tightening on Sephiroth's hand. “Aren't we done yet?!”
     “You claim to have survived falling from the plate,” he told Zack, echoing words his grandfather said, “This should be nothing.”
     “I was unconscious for half of that! Oww I feel it in my abs why can I feel it in my abs?!”
     “Because you've put your feet in the air and have been kicking like a dying beetle, silly.” Cissnei replied, standing safely out of kicking or grabbing range.
     “And done!” Lucretia called, all but leaping back to start labeling and storing the new sample. Vincent, who had been keeping Zack's other arm from hitting her, quickly stepped into place and began tending to the aspiration site.
     Zack, for his part, went boneless with a drawn-out whine. His grip finally eased on Sephiroth's hand, and it would be a lie to say it wasn't a relief. The boy was only getting stronger by the day, it would seem.
     “Now,” Lucretia instructed as she bustled about the lab, “You should do your best to stay off your feet for the rest of the day. It'll be sore for a while, and even with your healing rate will probably leave a nasty bruise for a while. But you should be able to go back to life as normal tomorrow, provided you've adequately rested.”
     Zack made a strangled groaning noise.
     “You might need to carry him back to the inn.” Grimoire remarked as Cissnei came closer with a concerned frown.
     As he finished bandaging the area, Vincent suggested, “Should I carry him back?”
     It took every ounce of discipline he had not to show his amusement. Grimoire wasn't helping with his chuckles.
     “I can do it...!” Zack protested, wiggling weakly on the table.
     “You need to stay put for a while first,” the Turk reminded, putting a gentle hand on the commander's chest, “And the doctor told you to stay off your feet, remember?”
     Zack groaned, wiggling a bit more, but didn't make to get up.
     “I'll tell you all the workplace gossip you missed last month if you stay put.” Cissnei bargained with a sly smile. Sephiroth couldn't help but blink, tipping his head to the side as Zack gave a put-upon sigh and went limp. Vincent seemed surprised as well, but after a moment he stepped back and began focusing on Lucretia instead.
     Zack had claimed that small towns ran on gossip, and had told Sephiroth that he'd been born and raised in a small town himself. Was it an old habit, then, to be so invested in gossip? Or was it... just Zack? Though he supposed that statistically speaking, Banora had been small, and while Angeal would never repeat anything like Genesis would, the man had definitely listened. Maybe it really was a small town thing, then?
     As the Turk began filling Zack in on everything he had missed while in his self-imposed exile from Midgar, Vincent seemed to slip into the role of an assistant for Lucretia. Sephiroth hesitated, unsure of what he was supposed to do now.
     A chill settled on his shoulder, prompting him to turn slightly towards his grandfather. “Why don't we take a walk?” Grimoire suggested with a smile, nodding towards the staircase. “See if we can't get an idea of how many clones Angeal left in the area— if he left enough, then perhaps he has decided to take partial responsibility for what happened.”
     After a moment, Sephiroth gave the slightest nod. Catching Vincent's eye, he gestured towards the exit. His father blinked, then nodded, handing Lucretia a pen without even looking. With at least one person informed of where he was going, Sephiroth turned and left the lab.
     Once he was out in the open air and certain no one was around to see, Sephiroth grimaced and shook his hand out.
     Grimoire laughed, declaring, “It was very kind of you to let him hold onto you.”
     “If he gets much stronger,” Sephiroth replied as he flexed his hand, “I'll have to make sure we never spar.”
     Which was... upsetting, in a way. He'd always loved the little play-fights he'd gotten into with Angeal and Genesis. And if there was ever someone who could well and truly keep up with him, then Sephiroth would want nothing more than to try his blade against them. But knowing how much collateral damage he and the other two caused when both of them had to team up against him— sometimes even while scuffling between themselves— then that meant him against a perfect equal was out of the question. Would there be a landscape left in such a scenario?
     “Maybe the two of you can hunt zoloms together, or try your hands at domesticating behemoths.” the dead doctor suggested playfully as they walked.
     Sephiroth found himself giving the suggestion more serious thought than he imagined his grandfather had intended.
     “Aah, over there.”
     Following his grandfather's direction, Sephiroth found a couple of Angeal's clones working to break down a fallen tree. They barely reacted as he came close.
     “What are they doing?” he asked, watching as the beasts hacked at the charred and brittle wood.
     “At a guess, a bit of environmental cleanup. Clearing ash, making fallen trees more easily decomposed, creating spaces where fauna can move back in if they so choose.” Grimoire replied, circling around the group. “I hesitate to make any guesses without more concrete evidence, but based on what we were seeing earlier in the week and how tidied up this area has gotten, I'd wager that he has at least three other teams of this size nearby— if not actively working.”
     Taking a quick headcount, Sephiroth found five clones huddled around the fallen tree. He trusted Grimoire's instincts, so that gave them a hypothetical twenty A-clones around Nibelheim. As far as clean-up crews went, he supposed it wasn't too shabby a number.
     Before he could tell Grimoire that he wanted to go look for them, the sound of muffled footsteps reached him. Turning around, Sephiroth found Director Verdot approaching.
     “General.” the Turk said, though not as curtly as he usually would.
     “Director.” Sephiroth replied in kind.
     “Not with the others, I see.”
     “I am assessing the numbers of clones Angeal left in the area. I notice Tseng isn't with you.”
     Verdot scowled a bit. “No need to be flippant.”
     “He does realize he started it, right?” Grimoire hummed, looking around. “I think I see movement this way.”
     As Sephiroth followed his grandfather, the director followed him.
     “... If you had no clue you were related,” Verdot said after a while, “Why did you go looking for the Valentines? And don't feed me that lie about overhearing someone say something again.”
     Sephiroth didn't answer, winding through the charcoal trees towards the movement he could now see. Grimoire looked back at him, but didn't say anything.
     “... I really didn't know.” he chose to say.
     Verdot, surprisingly, didn't push.
     As they came to look over the next group of clones, however, the beasts all shuddered. Sephiroth stepped in front of the director, even as he heard the man shift into a no-doubt ready position of his own. Grimoire's hand had once again dropped to his thigh, still reaching for a gun that wasn't there.
     One of the clones turned towards them, head twisting so that the relief of Angeal's face was ‘looking’ at them. Then, to Sephiroth's shock and horror, the face began to move, lips parting and a rasping noise escaping.
     No. Not noise.
     Words.
     “Cos... mo... Can... yon...” it said, a faint echo of Angeal's voice. It sounded painful. Forced out of something that was never meant to speak. It added to the urgency of the jagged syllables. “Come... quick...”

Chapter Text

     There were shocked screams as Sephiroth tore through the town, beelining straight for one of the two Turk helicopters. Grimoire was thankfully right behind him, declaring, “It was bleeding as he spoke— they were not designed for that.”
     He hadn't noticed that. The words only further hammered home the urgency he was grappling with. Perhaps the only thing to ever thank Hojo for was the fact that his hands didn't shake or his mind stutter.
     As he began preparing the craft to take off— it would take all day, but it was the quickest he currently had— another body vaulted into the helicopter, panting and swearing.
     “I'm impressed he caught up at all.” Grimoire muttered as Director Verdot heaved himself into the copilot seat.
     “Vincent,” the Turk panted without any prompting from Sephiroth, “Will flay me if I let you run off on your own.”
     “This is a SOLDIER matter.” Sephiroth said firmly, shooting the briefest glare at the man.
     “Yeah,” Verdot shot back, “And?”
     He was going through takeoff procedure as well. Sephiroth decided to ignore the man for now and get the helicopter in the air. He might not have been a formal pilot, but his position meant that Sephiroth knew at least the basics of operating most vehicles.
     Before long, they were in the air. As Sephiroth turned them the right way, Verdot leaned back and pulled out his PHS. Relaying the situation to Tseng, at a guess.
     “Tell him to keep everyone there,” Sephiroth ordered, “If Zack and Vincent stay, then they should be able to protect Lucretia if anything happens. Just make them stay.”
     “And it has nothing to do with keeping them from harm's way, eh?” Grimoire commented, though the likely-teasing words were cut by his grim tone.
     “Roger.” Verdot said, PHS snapping shut once again. “When we get close, give me the controls— it'll be easier for you to get out if you're not landing the bird.”
     “Roger.” Sephiroth replied.
     They had no clue what was going on. It could, realistically, be anything. It could be a trap. But Angeal had diverted clones into protecting Nibelheim and cleaning up the forest. He had given Lucretia dozens of samples to work with. Sephiroth trusted Angeal to at least be serving as a neutral party right now.
     Something was happening at Cosmo Canyon. Something bad. And Angeal needed help. Desperately.
     After hours spent in grim silence, the sun had begun to set, and they were nearing their destination. It was Grimoire who spotted the procession first, ‘tapping’ Sephiroth's shoulder and pointing to the ground below.
     “Look.” Sephiroth said, pointing in the same direction.
     After a moment, Verdot pulled a pair pf binoculars out from behind his seat. “... There's two A-clones, if those wings are anything to go by. Looks like civilians. Worse for wear.”
     “Fleeing.” Sephiroth said grimly.
     “Give me the controls.”
     As Verdot began to gently circle the helicopter above the procession, Sephiroth got out of his seat and moved to open the side door.
     “Be careful,” Grimoire advised, blades and wind nearly whipping his voice away, “If they've been chased from their homes, soneone falling out of the sky on them might not go over well.”
     Sephiroth gave a nod as his grandfather stepped next to him. Once the dead doctor seemed to have steeled himself, they both stepped out.
     This fall was shorter, one Sephiroth had done before. In the height of the Wutai war, it hadn't been uncommon for him to move from one field to another, jumping out of helicopters and into the fray, only to be picked right back up and repeat the process another five times. As a result, he landed... not exactly gracefully, but smoothly. Grimoire still hit the ground hard— for an incorporeal being— but Sephiroth focused on the procession.
     There were perhaps fifty people, as well as two... animals of some nature. Many of them seemed to be nursing injuries. Primarily burns. Sephiroth tasted bile at the sight. It became worse when one of the A-clones limped closer, trailing blackened blood behind it.
     “Seph...” it gurgled, the noise almost indistinguishable from a tortured animal in it's death throes. It stumbled, and Sephiroth couldn't keep from lunging forward to catch it as the civilians gasped. “... Help...”
     “Angeal.” Sephiroth said, trying to help the clone to it's feet. But it seemed to have spent the last of it's strength, slumping further. “Angeal, help how?”
     There was a muted thump from slightly further away, the civilians startling at the noise.
     “Angeal.” Sephiroth said insistently, giving the clone in his arms a shake.
     “Sephiroth...” his grandfather murmured quietly.
     “I can't help if I don't understand.” he said in frustration. His thoughts were starting to run away from him. Something was clearly more wrong than anticipated. He was willing to bet that the problem stemmed from a certain ex-SOLDIER with a penchant for red leather, poetry, and flame. But Angeal seemed desperate, forcing clones never meant to speak to form words, only two barely clinging to life guarding several dozen civilians.
     There was a softly cleared throat, prompting him to look up. One of the civilians had stepped slightly closer, regarding him warily.
     “What happened?” Sephiroth asked, gently lowering the dead clone down and getting to his own feet.
     “We were attacked,” the man said tiredly, looking over his shoulder at the rest of the people, “By a mob of one-winged angels. They took about half of us prisoner, as well as attacking the... I suppose they were rogue mercenaries or the like, hiding out in the cliffs. I didn't understand most of what they were saying, but I guess they were after the retired researcher portion of our population.”
     “He's getting desperate.” Grimoire said darkly.
     “We were saved by... not one of them,” the man continued, reaching up to rub at his eye, “But someone similar? A beast-tamer of some sort. I... don't know what happened to him.”
     “The red one took him.”
     “Oh my...” Grimoire said in awe as Sephiroth and the spokesman looked towards the voice. One of the strange animals had approached, eyes glinting intently as they fixed on Sephiroth. Up close, he could see it was some kind of pantherine animal. There were beads and feathers woven into it's mane, and it's tail seemed to be on fire.
     He found himself blinking in surprise when the beast spoke, elaborating, “At first, the two of them seemed to be on good terms. But then the red one lost his temper, and lashed out at the dark one. I do not know if he still lives.”
     Ignoring the knot of emotions forming in his stomach, Sephiroth asked, “Can you tell me anything else?”
     After a moment, the beast bobbed it's head, replying, “The red one was accompanied by a researcher of some nature. They spoke of stabilizing something in order to mount an attack elsewhere.”
     Nibelheim.
     If a portion of Cosmo Canyon's population was made up of retired researchers, then there was a non-zero chance at least one of them had some experience with mako or genetics. Even if they didn't, they would have the instilled scientific disciplines needed to serve as assistants for Hollander, allowing for more work to be done in a fraction of the time. And if there was a mercenary band in the area, that was a pack of fresh bodies to turn into clones. Maybe not SOLDIER-grade, but presumably better quality clones than the average person. And if those clones could be stabilized somehow, they'd be harder to fight.
     Genesis was trying to mount a force with the intention of razing Nibelheim in order to steal Lucretia away.
     Sephiroth nodded as the helicopter finally wound down to the ground somewhere behind him. “Thank you for the information,” he said grimly, “I will do my best to rescue your people.”
     “I'll come with you.” the beast declared.
     “Nanaki...!” the spokesman and several of the procession hissed. The other beast looked on with it's head tipped to the side.
     “I know the canyon better than everyone except Grandfather,” the beast— Nanaki— said grimly, “And he'll need a guide.”
     “Your people here need protecting.” Sephiroth pointed out.
     After a moment of hesitation, the beast jerked it's head back. “Deneh is as capable a warrior as I.”
     The second beast dipped it's head, tail bobbing.
     “Let him come,” Grimoire urged— and oddly, Sephiroth thought Nanaki's ears flicked towards the sound— “Worst come worst, you can turn him back once you've reached the canyon. But a guide will be helpful.”
     After a moment, Sephiroth acquiesced, nodding sharply. “Are you fit to start?”
     In answer, Nanaki turned and began to lope into the desert. As Sephiroth and Grimoire chased after him, Director Verdot's irritated yell sounded after them.
     “You're going to be in for it when you meet back up.” the dead doctor noted in amusement.
     Again, Sephiroth saw Nanaki's ears twitch as if in response to the words.

Chapter Text

     “... If I may ask a... question you may find odd.” Nanaki said.
     The three of them had settled down to take a break, night fully fallen by now. However, Sephiroth didn't imagine either he or Nanaki would sleep. They were apparently halfway to the canyon, and every second not spent getting there was another second Genesis had to muster his attack force unhindered.
     “Go ahead.” Sephiroth permitted.
     But the beast didn't say anything, tail swishing as if uneasy. As he watched, Sephiroth saw Nanaki turn his head as if to look at Grimoire.
     “... Are you aware that there is a spirit attached to you?” the beast asked, voice low as if to share a secret.
     “Can you see him?” Sephiroth asked as Grimoire perked up.
     Nanaki gave him a look that... he couldn't decipher. Humans were hard enough, but Nanaki's expressions were much harder to understand. “I cannot— for how long have you been aware of it?”
     “He appeared several weeks ago now,” Sephiroth answered, “If you can't see him, how do you know he's there?”
     “It is a trait of my people— to be aware of spirits, and of the Planet itself. I do not know the ritual myself, but once we have rescued my grandfather—”
     Guessing what Nanaki was intending to offer, Sephiroth quickly cut him off, “I would rather keep him until I die.”
     “Which won't be for a very long time, if I have my way.” Grimoire groused with a soft smile. Again, Nanaki twitched in response— indication that even if he couldn't actually see Grimoire, he most certainly could sense the man.
     “... Why?” the beast asked, sounding slightly confused.
     “Because he is my grandfather,” Sephiroth replied, “And for my entire life, a madman denied me my family. I have no intention to let go of him until I absolutely have to.”
     After a moment, Nanaki nodded. “I understand.”
     A thought occuring to him, Sephiroth asked, “Can you tell us anything about... how or why this might have happened?”
     “Clever boy.” Grimoire praised, smiling the way Angeal smiled at Zack. If Sephiroth had any less restraint, he might have actually preened. He did, however, smile back.
     Nanaki hesitated, then shook his head. “I'm... afraid not. But Grandfather— my grandfather— would certainly know.”
     Standing back up, Sephiroth declared, “Then we best get to saving him, haven't we?”
     Nanaki nodded, getting to his own feet, and they began to run once again.
     “What do you know of the mercenary group?” Sephiroth asked as they moved.
     “I do not think they were truly mercenaries,” Nanaki replied in a grim voice, “I believe they were... ah, extremists.”
     “Interesting word-choice.” Grimoire commented with an audible frown.
     Sephiroth wondered if Nanaki was trying to cover for the group, or trying to be polite. Because he could only think of two groups that would qualify as ‘extremists,’ and Wutai was only an extremist group in Shinra's daydreams.
     But if it was an ‘extremist’ group— if it was Avalanche— was Genesis there to fight them? Take them over? Join them? The one man had described Genesis as attacking the group. But everyone had fled the area— what if they had teamed up?
     “Don't overthink things,” Grimoire advised suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts, “If you get too into your head, he can take advantage of that. Focus on protecting any civilians we may find.”
     He nodded, feeling... settled, in an odd way. It was like Grimoire had simply halted the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind.
     “You look very much like Lucretia when you start to overthink things,” Grimoire chuckled, “Your eyes narrow and you frown in a way that's almost a pout.”
     “I don't pout.” Sephiroth defended. Nanaki glanced back at him, but didn't say anything. “I don't.”
     “I said almost.” Grimoire teased.
     From there, however, the banter tapered off, the three of them focusing on running. It was about midnight when they reached the canyon, slowing to a careful creep as they moved from shadow to shadow.
     “It reeks of blood.” Nanaki murmured worriedly, tail swinging and ears flattened as his lips pulled back.
     “Your nose is sharper than mine,” Sephiroth replied, looking around the empty space, “I can smell it, but only faintly.”
     “Incoming.” Grimoire warned from where he'd begun to walk ahead.
     Sephiroth repeated the word, and Nanaki ushered them into a small nook behind a boulder. About a minute later, the measured steps of a patrol march plodded past. Sephiroth found himself putting a hand on Nanaki's back when the beast began to bare his teeth at the sound, looking on the verge of leaping out to fight. He couldn't say he didn't understand— if it had been Nibelheim, he would have been having to hold himself back.
     Once the patrol was gone, Nanaki let loose an upset huff, head tossing.
     “If we attack the clones,” Sephiroth cautioned, “Genesis may take it out on the hostages.”
     “Despicable.” Nanaki spat as they continued onwards.
     Sephiroth nodded, sighing, “He didn't used to be.”
     The beast stumbled a little, looking over at him. “I... am sorry...”
     He shook his head as Grimoire continued on ahead. “No. He... is not the person I thought he was. Even... even if it is his illness— the degradation driving him to it...”
     “... That he would choose to resort to such methods rather than lean on a willingly offered shoulder is telling of core character.”
     Sephiroth nodded tiredly at Nanaki's words. “I would have helped,” he said, unable to help but air his frustrations, “I would have done anything for him. He was one of the only good things in Shinra.”
     Before Nanaki could say anything, Grimoire came back, expression serious. “We have escapees up ahead.”
     “There's someone ahead.” Sephiroth relayed.
     Nanaki instantly bounded off, Sephiroth lengthening his stride to match. As Nanaki rounded the bend Grimoire had been checking, there was a startled curse. Following, Sephiroth found a battered man with a young woman draped over his shoulders, unconscious.
     “You...!” the man spluttered, eyes widening.
     “You know each other?” Nanaki asked, looking back at him.
     “In a sense.” Sephiroth replied grimly. “I believe this is the leader of Avalanche abd her second-in-command.”
     “Ah.” the dead doctor said, tone matching Sephiroth's as the man sneered. Nanaki shuffled anxiously, head swiveling between the two of them.
     “Come to finish the job then? Shinra dog!” the man sneered.
     Before Sephiroth could say anything, there was a feral scream that echoed through the canyon, making most of them flinch.
     “... It would seem your escape was discovered,” Sephiroth commented, “What can you tell me about his forces?”
     The man swayed a little at the question, looking utterly disgusted. “Whatever your bastard was doing, it's not just that any more,” he muttered, “That backstabbing rat Fuhito did something and now they're all souped up— Red Ravens, he called 'em. There's at least two dozen, plus all the hounds and a couple dozen or so... not-Ravens. And...”
     “It's coming!” Nanaki hissed, ears flattening and tail lashing as he turned.
     Sephiroth didn't even have time to ask what ‘it’ was, for no other reason than it arriving.
     It slammed into the ground, kicking up a cloud of sand and dust, growling deep and low. It easily towered over all of them, eyes glowing with a glare that only mako could produce. It's skin was dark and leathery, pulled taut over misproportioned limbs, drool slipping past jagged teeth. What it was was betrayed by the traces of ginger hair and the massive black wing that shed enough feathers to seem sickly as it flexed vicious claws.
     “What has he done.” Grimoire said, aghast as he stepped back towards the young man and woman.
     “Can you run?” Sephiroth asked as Nanaki growled back at the monster, Masamune hissing in the cool night air.
     “Do I look like I can fucking run right now?!”
     “Then try not to get caught in the crossfire.”
     As the tromp of boots and beats of wings began to ricochet off the canyon walls, Sephiroth made the first move, sweeping towards the mutated clone's neck.

Chapter Text

     The ‘Red Ravens’ were definitely new. Sephiroth had heard that a member of the SOLDIER project had been accosted by Avalanche, but he hadn't heard that anything had come from it. And yet, it seemed like it definitely had spawned something— something that had been blended with the G-clones, creating something best described as ‘troublesome.’
     For one thing, they seemed to have slightly more autonomy than the standard Genesis clone. Combined with the materia they were all equipped with, Sephiroth was being pulled in several directions at once as he tried to block any attacks made towards the currently-incapacitated Avalanche members, thin the numbers, and take care of the mutant. There weren't any more coming to join the fight, but that was actually the opposite of comforting. The Avalanche commander-in-chief had described two dozen of the Red Ravens— this was only a dozen, accompanied by a small handful of G-hounds.
     If he was alone, it wouldn't be an issue.
     Gritting his teeth as he batted another fireball aside with one hand and blocked another strike from the mutant with his other, Sephiroth tried to assess his options. At the moment, all he could come up with was throwing his PHS to the Avalanche man and telling him to call Tseng.
     “Sephiroth!” Grimoire yelled over the snarling of the hounds as Nanaki wrestled with them. “One of your materia is a seal, isn't it?!”
     “Materia isn't my strong-suit!” he called back, currently uncaring if the terrorists heard him.
     “What,” Nanaki demanded breathlessly as he bowled a Red Raven over with a hound, “Do you have?”
     “Lightning, gravity, seal!”
     “If you can pass me the seal and hold them off,” Nanaki panted, almost lost in the shadows and crimson, “I might be able to lessen the load!”
     “Can you manage?” Grimoire asked, having drawn close— a reassuring chill at Sephiroth's shoulder.
     But despite the support his grandfather's presence offered, Sephiroth didn't answer.
     If it was just him— if he didn't have to protect injured non-combatants— then maybe. Maybe then he could pry the materia loose and hold it out so Nanaki could snatch it as he ran past. But as it was, it wasn't just him. If he took the time to pass the seal to Nanaki, then one of them would have to take a hit. Either him, or the Avalanche members. And yes, Sephiroth knew that they were opposing factions— but at the moment, there was a common enemy. He would rather send them to join the Cosmo Canyon residents and arrest them later than needlessly sacrifice them.
     As he lunged one way to block the mutant— managing to relieve it of an arm in the process, making it roar furiously— a Red Raven slipped past the other way. Snarling a curse as Grimoire sucked in a breath, Sephiroth spun. It would leave his back exposed— he was certainly going to be stabbed, or shot, or clawed at— but he could survive, he told himself. He could survive, but they—
     The Avalanche man sprang to his feet and lunged to meet the Red Raven. But to Sephiroth's surprise, it didn't end with the man skewered or decapitated. Rather, he ducked under the slash of the Red Raven and followed it with a fierce uppercut. Even Sephiroth winced at the harsh crack of the man's fist connecting with the clone's jaw.
     “You bastards think I'm gonna take this lying down?!” he roared, placing himself between the crumpling Red Raven and the unconscious woman.
     It was a mistake to do so, but Sephiroth allowed himself to gawk for a moment. Very few people were able to incapacitate a SOLDIER of any kind, after all— not without enhancements of their own. He was pretty sure Zack would call that ‘badass,’ and for lack of any other descriptors, Sephiroth was inclined to agree.
     Claws raked down his back, drawing him back into the fight. Gritting his teeth, he whirled back around, managing to cut the clone's face enough to damage an eye this time. It howled furiously, lashing out wildly. A couple of the Red Ravens and hounds were caught in it's flailing, Nanaki barely avoiding a similar fate.
     The man from Avalanche might not be able to take on waves of SOLDIERs and G-clones, but if he could slow them down, then Sephiroth supposed that was enough. Skipping into the mutant's new blind-spot, he yelled, “Nanaki!” as he pried free his seal.
     The red lion pivoted from where he was fighting the hounds and bounded towards Sephiroth. The Red Ravens, too, turned towards him, with a couple hurling flames towards Nanaki. Nanaki, for his part, ran through the flames, leaping onto one of their shoulders and springing into the air.
     The lion wouldn't make it through the Red Ravens. And with a loose materia in hand, Sephiroth wouldn't be able to reliably cross the field either. Not without dropping it.
     “Nanaki!” he called again, pulling his arm back.
     “Carefully!” Grimoire warned as the Red Ravens pressed close, the mutant turning towards the two from Avalanche.
     The materia glinted silver in the starlight, for a moment drawing every eye on the field, creating a brief lull where nothing seemed to breathe.
     Nanaki's jaws snapped down on the small stone, the lion twisting in the air so he could launch himself off the canyon wall. With that part done, Sephiroth whirled on the mutant, taking advantage of it's turned back to repay the favor. It's neck was tougher than appearances let on, but Sephiroth had been raised to cleave through steel several feet thick. Without the mutant dodging or parrying, relieving it of it's head was simple.
     The Avalanche man cursed as he was sprayed with blood, prompting Sephiroth to bark, “Don't ingest it!”
     “I'll watch them— help Nanaki!” Grimoire ordered, already returning to the woman's side.
     Spinning back to the field, Sephiroth found that Nanaki seemed to be prioritizing seal rather than sleep, inflicting silence and blocking the Ravens' ability to cast. The hounds were harassing him more now that he wasn't fighting back as much, catching his sides and flanks at every turn.
     It may have only been seal, Sephiroth reflected grimly, but it was plenty. “Nanaki, stay low!”
     The lion froze in his tracks, pressing himself to the ground despite the canine G-clones that instantly pressed close.
     It wasn't as complete as he would have liked. The amount of autonomy the Red Ravens had meant that several had been able to block the strike as he had flashed past, staying on their feet even as they staggered. The hounds, however, collapsed to the ground around Nanaki with a single flick of Masamune. The lion flinched a bit— Sephiroth hoped he hadn't caught him in the gesture.
     “What the fuck—” the Avalanche man cried in bewilderment.
     Turning on his heel, Sephiroth called, “Stay clear—”
     Only for half the remaining Red Ravens to crumple as someone else mimicked his motion of lunging across the field behind his blade. There were only three left standing as the leader of Avalanche staggered to a stop, sweating beading on her brow and panting harshly.
     “Stay clear!” Sephiroth reiterated, though this time it was more at just the man. The Red Ravens tensed, bringing their blades up in preparation. Their autonomy really was bothersome.
     Masamune carved through the air, the strike going far above the Red Ravens' heads. For a brief moment, he saw the Avalanche commander-in-chief's jaw drop, Grimoire's eyes going wide. But then the stone at the top of the canyon came down.
     As Nanaki and the woman coughed in the ensuing dust-cloud, the lion hacked out, “Brutal.”
     “I couldn't risk them taking off. If they got airborne, fighting them would become that much harder.” Sephiroth replied, waving the sand and particulate clear of his face. “Grandfather, did he survive?”
     “Who the hell are you talking to?!” the man's voice called back.
     “Shears...” Avalanche's leader said in relief as Grimoire came through the stone.
     “As you heard, he's alive,” the dead doctor relayed, “Though he has collapsed, and I don't know what the likelihood of him getting back up is. They were pretty badly injured when we found them, and he's exhausted.”
     “Genesis will know that the two of you escaped and that I am here,” Sephiroth said, turning to the woman, “If he hasn't sent reinforcements, then it's all too likely that he's preparing to head for Nibelheim. I can't afford to let him.”
     “What's in Nibelheim?” she asked, eyes narrowed as she swayed where she stood.
     Meeting her gaze, Sephiroth replied, “My mother.”
     “What importance does your mother hold?” Nanaki asked in confusion.
     “She's currently the closest to curing the Jenova-caused genetic degradation.” Sephiroth said grimly, turning the way the Red Ravens had emerged from. “But he has no interest in obtaining it peacefully.”
     There was a small clatter, making all of them whip around. The second-in-command— Shears— slid awkwardly down the pile of rubble, face pale and coated in a sheen of sweat under the mutant's blood. The woman staggered over to him as Grimoire commented, “Stubborn, isn't he? I had thought he would've passed out by now.”
     “You should leave while you have the chance,” Sephiroth instructed, turning away again, “Nanaki, how are your injuries?”
     “I can still fight.” the lion said, lowering his head and nosing the materia through the blood-clumped sand towards Sephiroth's boots.
     “Let's check for a bangle—”
     “I'm not leaving.”
     “Elfé!” Shears hissed as Sephiroth paused in kneeling down.
     “I am a more efficient fighter on my own. And both of you are badly injured.” he said carefully, picking the seal up and looking over the not-buried Red Ravens. For all the casting they did, at least one had to have something they could repurpose for Nanaki.
     “Fuhito betrayed us,” the leader— Elfé— said, voice surprisingly unwavering, “Avalanche was all the family I had, and he took them— sold them for some sick experiment.”
     “I promise you that they would rather you live.” Sephiroth said firmly, getting up and moving over to the nearest Red Raven to check for materia-equipment.
     “I can fight on the same level as you,” Elfé declared, “And I don't trust you not to let them go.”
     Nanaki winced at that, and Grimoire made a noise of disapproval, but Sephiroth paused.
     “... It is a valid concern,” he demurred, finding that the body wore a belt with three slots, “I... may falter again.”
     “He was someone important to you,” Nanaki said, padding closer as Sephiroth removed the belt, “I would struggle to fight Deneh.”
     “Nanaki is right,” Grimoire agreed, kneeling down next to him, “It is natural to not want to fight people you find precious, even if they've proven to be... less than stellar.”
     Sephiroth didn't say anything, just held the belt up to Nanaki. The lion crinkled his nose, then asked, “Could we... cut it down and wrap it around my foreleg?”
     “We can try. There's a fire, poison, and...”
     “Mystify,” Nanaki said after nosing against the stone in question, “It forms in the caves around here sometimes. Did you want me to hold onto the seal?”
     “Oi,” Shears snapped, “Don't fucking—”
     “Shears.” Elfé said tiredly. The click that followed implied the man had snapped his jaw shut.
     “Since we will be fighting forces that will no doubt have a heavy reliance on materia, having someone able to interrupt that would be in our best interest.” Sephiroth nodded.
     “In that case, would you please remove the poison materia?” Nanaki nodded.
     As Sephiroth set about replacing the materia and wrapping the belt around Nanaki's leg, he said, “If you come with me, you will be responsible for keeping yourself safe. I am here to rescue the people of Cosmo Canyon and to stop Genesis— I cannot afford to protect you, or worry about your goals. If you fall behind, you will be left behind.”
     “Works for me.”
     “Elfé, you're barely standing!” Shears objected.
     “I can't let him get away with using us like this, Shears. Look what he did to our friends— our family!” the woman replied as Sephiroth stood up, Grimoire standing with him.
     “Head north,” Sephiroth interjected, “You should meet up with the others who escaped.”
     Nanaki turned a second before Sephiroth continued onwards. After a moment, another set of footsteps joined them, Elfé announcing, “They're using the observatory as their main base, and keeping prisoners in an old warehouse.”
     “In Grandfather's...?!” Nanaki snarled indignantly.
     “Then we head for the observatory first,” Sephiroth declared, “And hope that if we cut off the head, the body will die.”

Chapter Text

     The town within the canyon was picturesque. If it wasn't for the obvious fire-damage and gouges in the earth and buildings alike, Sephiroth might have said that everyone was still asleep, pre-dawn light not yet trickling into the deep recesses of the canyon. Everything was still and silent. The air was heavy, and even Elfé could smell the blood now.
     “This feels like a trap.” Grimoire said in a dark voice, making Sephiroth pause.
     “What is it?” Nanaki asked, pressing himself to the ground.
     “A trap how?” Sephiroth asked his grandfather, making Elfé frown at him.
     “Who are you talking to? You did it earlier, as well...”
     “He is haunted by a spirit,” Nanaki murmured, tail swishing as he watched Sephiroth, “He claims it to be his grandfather.”
     Grimoire didn't answer for a moment longer, frowning at the empty canyon. “... He hasn't sent anything else to stop or slow us down. By now, he must be aware that the Red Ravens sent after Miss Elfé and her friend are dead. But rather than send anything after us while he prepares to flee— or head to Nibelheim ahead of us— we seem to be being invited in.”
     “He might not have the forces to spare.” Sephiroth pointed out, surveying the town as well. “Perhaps he needs all the hands he has to pack up any equipment they have.”
     “...Sephiroth,” Grimoire said, stepping in front of him and ‘grabbing’ his shoulders, “I know he was your friend, and that you may still want to think the best of him— but he has hostages.”
     That... was true. And he suspected the Genesis of now certainly wouldn't be above soft cover. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Nanaki and Elfé. The two watched him expectantly, though Elfé looked skeptical.
     “Nanaki,” Sephiroth asked, “Is there a back way into the observatory? Something only a resident would know about or be able to find?”
     The lion shook his head. “I'm afraid not. We have little need for such things here.”
     “What's going on?” Elfé demanded.
     “There is a very good chance that we're going to walk into a trap,” Sephiroth admitted, even though he didn't want to think of Genesis doing such things, “And as such, it would be ideal for us to split up here.”
     “Why?” Nanaki said, seeming to frown as he surveyed the town with his tail bobbing.
     “He knows I'm coming now. If I show up alone, he will hopefully believe I sent you with the other two back to join the group. If there was a back door, then the two of you would be able to slip in while I held everyone's attention.” Sephiroth explained.
     Elfé was nodding slowly, murmuring, “Slipping behind the lines,” while Nanaki looked contemplative.
     Grimoire, for his part, asked, “And would you be alright with that?”
     “Well,” Sephiroth pointed out, reaching out to brush his knuckles against the cool space where his grandfather stood, “I wouldn't be entirely alone, would I?”
     “No... and perhaps we could use that to our advantage.” the dead doctor agreed, expression hardening a bit.
     “Perhaps,” Nanaki said hesitantly, drawing everyone's attention, “If you can distract them, Miss Elfé and I could get onto the roof, and slip in from above... I cannot speak for the ease of such a feat, but...”
     “Worst come worst,” Sephiroth replied, “I can clear a path between the door and the hostages.”
     “... Should we check the warehouse while you do?” Elfé proposed.
     “That might be best,” Grimoire said, surveying the town again, “If they can go and dispatch any guards that may be there, he can't use your lack of knowledge about their well-being against you.”
     Sephiroth relayed the dead doctor's words, making the other two nod. With a plan made up, they went their separate ways. Nanaki and Elfé stuck to the shadows, slinking off towards the warehouse, while Sephiroth moved purposefully towards the observatory, Grimoire at his side. He didn't bother trying to hide, and tried to keep his pace even. Genesis was undoubtedly watching and waiting for him. Hopefully the sight of Sephiroth and Grimoire alone would cement the conclusion they wanted him to jump to.
     As the sun began to drip down into the canyon, Sephiroth realized there were dead Angeal clones dragged off to the side of the observatory. Grimoire wore a dark expression when he looked over to see if the man noticed. Dark blood stained white feathers and jade masks, and Sephiroth ripped his gaze away, pushing it from his mind. Instead, he focused on the observatory— and the two Red Ravens flanking the entrance. Although Sephiroth kept himself prepared to take their heads off at a moment's notice, they merely opened the doors and gestured him in when he and Grimoire drew near.
     “Someone,” a mocking voice declared as Sephiroth stepped inside, the Red Ravens right behind him, “Looks a little worse for wear. Had a rough night, old friend?”
     Sephiroth didn't answer as Genesis sneered at him.
     There were three things that jumped out at him. First was that there were a handful of non-Raven clones holding a dozen civilians at gunpoint— the retired researchers, he imagined, all kneeling on the floor with their hands on their heads, a few of them muttering prayers with closed eyes. Second was that Hollander and a man Sephiroth didn't recognize had an old man separate from the others, keeping him in a corner, though the stranger was currently looking at Sephiroth with a glint in his eyes far too similar to Hojo. Hollander was trying to bully something out of the old man, who looked to be ignoring him. Third and most catching was Angeal.
     Sephiroth hadn't a clue where Genesis had gotten a mako tank. But there was one, just behind him, currently full of vivid green— and Angeal's limp form, wing wrapped around his torso like a sleeping bird, eyes shut and motionless. It looked like his shirt had been stripped away, and his sword leaned against the wall next to the tank.
     “What did you do?” Sephiroth demanded, anger dropping his voice into a rough whisper.
     Genesis scowled and turned away, reciting lines from Loveless. Sephiroth didn't care to listen and identify the act or verse, feeling a furious buzz rise in the back of his skull.
     “And you expected me to hand you my mother,” he bit out, “When this is how you treat your best friend?”
     Genesis froze, hand splayed across the glass trapping Angeal. Hollander had turned away from the old man, eyes wide. The stranger— that must have been Elfé's traitorous Fuhito— tipped his head in yet another manner far too reminiscent of Hojo.
     “... I wouldn't have to be like this,” Genesis hissed, “If you would cooperate.”
     “That,” Grimoire said pointedly, “Sounds like an undiagnosed narcisstic personality disorder.”
     There was fury in Genesis's eyes when he spun around. “What did you call me?!”
     “Genesis?” Hollander asked uncertainly.
     The redhead startled a bit, blinking, but then seemed to recover himself with a sneer. “Of course, you always had to be the special one, didn't you?”
     Just barely keeping the hurt from his voice, Sephiroth replied, “If I had any say in the matter, I would have been born as ordinary as Zack.”
     “But you hardly renounced any of it, have you?” Genesis shot back, folding his arms over his chest with a vaguely smug expression.
     Grimoire's chill brushed over his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, Sephiroth announced, “Genesis, this is the last chance I will give you— please call off your clones, lay down your arms, and come quietly for treatment and trial.”
     That earned him a scoff, Genesis spreading his arms wide. “Or what?”
     The hostages made pained and frightened noises. More Red Ravens crept out of the shadows of the observatory, seemingly riveted on Sephiroth. The two behind him shifted—
     And so did he.
     Genesis made a strangled noise, eyes wide with shock as Sephiroth pressed him back against the tank holding Angeal, Masamune to his throat. For a moment, backlit by the mako-glow, Genesis looked fragile and frightened, and Sephiroth had to close his eyes and bow his head in order not to lose his nerve. This brought his forehead to the glass, Genesis's breath quick at his ear.
     “Y... you...!”
     “Release them,” Sephiroth said, eyes still closed, “And I will step away.”
     “... Like I'm supposed to believe a Shinra dog— gnh!”
     There was probably blood welling up under Masamune's edge. Sephiroth didn't look. He breathed slowly through his mouth to keep from knowing.
     “Release the civilians and recall your clones,” he ordered, “And I will escort you to Nibelheim, then Midgar.”
     Genesis didn't say anything. Sephiroth wondered if the redhead's heart was hammering as much as his own. He kept his eyes closed, the scent of blood now saturating the tiny slip of air between them. The glass was cold against his forehead, Genesis hot against his cheek, and Sephiroth found himself silently praying that once, just once, Genesis would put down his pride.
     Just once.
     Please.
     Then Genesis drew a shaky breath, and Sephiroth couldn't keep himself from opening his eyes—
     “You expect me to trust you,” his friend hissed, “When you lied about where your little friends were?”
     From the side where the retired researchers were on their knees, there was a desperate cry, the sound of prayers growing louder—
     Genesis choked as Sephiroth's chest and shoulder grew sticky. A hand clawed at him as he dropped Masamune, and Hollander let out an indignant shriek. The blood that spattered onto the glass was dyed brown from the green light shining through it. As Genesis clutched his neck and gasped wetly, Sephiroth wrapped his arms around the redhead, burying his face in his friend's shoulder. The wet warmth spilled from between Genesis's fingers as the two of them slowly slid to the floor.
     “I'm sorry.” Sephiroth whispered, squeezing his eyes shut so he didn't have to see.
     “Y-you...” Genesis coughed, voice almost lost under the bubbling in his windpipe and the scrabbling of a dozen feet running for the door as their owners wept.
     “I'm sorry.” Sephiroth repeated, eyes and throat both burning. He didn't think he had ever wanted to throw up as much as he did at that moment.
     “... ha... te you...” his friend choked. It sounded like there were other words, but they were lost in the rattling and gurgling.
     He couldn't bring himself to say anything other than, “I'm sorry,” as he clung to Genesis, hoping he somehow conveyed how much he had never hated the redhead.
     “... want...” Genesis persisted, sounding desperate. “... t... see m...”
     “‘See?’” Sephiroth echoed, pulling away a bit, unwilling to deny him any last request.
     Genesis's hand was sticky when he reached up, smearing on Sephiroth's cheek, seeming to hold him in place. His face was both desperate and resigned, and Sephiroth hated how wet his eyes looked. Just like how it was wrong to hear Angeal's voice be small, it was wrong to see Genesis look miserable— but there was nothing Sephiroth could do to fix this.
     “Do,” Genesis coughed as the observatory fell largely into silence, blood-filled spittle coating his lips, “You... see... me...?”
     Sephiroth could see how much it had taken Genesis to say each word clearly. It hurt, that his friend could no longer prattle on effortlessly, waxing poetic about the philosophy of life, the importance of arts, and the nobility of man.
     And he was the one who made it so. Soon the world would be forever deprived of Genesis's smooth soliloquies, and there was no one to blame but Sephiroth.
     “I have always seen you,” he said earnestly, reaching up to put his hand over Genesis's, “There has never been a day since we met when I haven't seen you.”
     It hurt, how surprised Genesis looked by that.
     Swallowing down the bile rising in his throat, Sephiroth whispered, “‘My friend, do you fly away now?’”
     Genesis blinked, gaze riveted on Sephiroth's face, eyes still wet.
     Curling his fingers around the hand still on his cheek, Sephiroth continued, “‘To a world that abhors you and I? All that awaits me is a somber morrow, no matter where the winds may blow. My soul, corrupted by vengeance, hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey— in my own salvation, and your eternal slumber.’”
     Genesis shook in his arm, a weak smile on his lips as tears slipped down his cheeks. He didn't say anything else, his breath quiet despite the blood that had to have filled his lungs by now. The soundless laughter didn't even make him cough or retch, and Sephiroth clutched him closer.
     The observatory was largely silent now. Sephiroth kept his eyes on Genesis until the redhead's chest stopped moving, eyes going glassy.
     “... I always saw you,” Sephiroth said again, voice shaking, “Always.”
     Gently, he lowered the redhead's body to the floor and got to his feet. As he turned, intending to speak to his grandfather— surely Grimoire could say something that would soothe the hurt in his chest, squash the urge to throw up— there was a sharp gasp. Whipping around, Sephiroth realized that all the clones and Red Ravens were still standing.
     Only ‘standing’ seemed to be the wrong word. Several had fallen to their knees, while the rest staggered and clutched at their heads, all writhing in ways that reminded Sephiroth far too much of Vincent after getting shot.
     It would seem that cutting off the head did not kill the body, Sephiroth thought with no small amount of despair.
     And it wasn't fair.

Chapter Text

     Nanaki was the first to find him.
     The observatory had suffered quite a bit. Sephiroth felt bad about it, but his grandfather had reminded him that buildings could be rebuilt. It was better to have collateral damage to the observatory than to let the mutated clones run rampant. The ones that had been Red Ravens had put up a bit more fight, trying to escape outside. That bothersome autonomy, Sephiroth had figured, mutating into animal instincts rather than feral fury like the other clones.
     The floor was pooled with blood and littered with bodies. The metallic tang of death mixed unpleasantly with the scent of burnt feathers and flesh, filling the air. Great slashes had been carved into the walls and ceiling, tracing lethal paths that displayed where Sephiroth had struck. Fractal scorchmarks showed where he'd been forced to use his materia to hinder the mutants' escape attempts, though those were few in number. Sephiroth himself was sitting next to Genesis, back against Angeal's tank and head on his knees, Masamune discarded on the floor near his feet. Grimoire's arm was a cool reassurance across his shoulders, the dead doctor kneeling next to him.
     “Are you...” Nanaki trailed off, tone awkward as his paws made sticky noises on the floor.
     “Sephiroth,” Grimoire said gently, “He's worried about you.”
     “... I'm not okay,” Sephiroth sighed, lifting his head to look at the lion, “Are you?”
     Nanaki looked... a little worse for wear. A bit more singed and battered than Sephiroth had left him. But whole and alive, tail bouncing in an anxious manner as the lion peered at him.
     “I'm alive,” Nanaki replied, “And Grandfather is safe. Miss Elfé seemed to get her revenge, though she collapsed right after.”
     “And the hostages?” Sephiroth asked, letting his knees fall apart and drawing himself into a cross-legged position instead.
     The lion bobbed his head. “Safe. Miss Elfé said their numbers were thinned, but all that remained were rescued.” After a moment of hesitation, looking around awkwardly, Nanaki asked, “Why, er... have you not gotten him out?”
     Glancing back at Angeal, Sephiroth replied, “Because I don't know why he was put in to begin with, or what the mako saturation is. Extracting him without knowing could make things worse.”
     Nanaki's head tipped to the side, ears pricked. Without a word, the lion turned and left the ruined observatory. Sephiroth watched him go, then looked to Genesis. That was the wrong thing to do, bile building in his throat again, and he quickly buried his face in his hands.
     “It's okay,” Grimoire said softly, cold fingers tracing through his hair, “You're allowed to be upset.”
     “I'm the one who killed him.” Sephiroth pointed out, face still firmly in his hands.
     “You gave him every chance for that not to happen,” his grandfather replied, voice firm despite the gentle tone, “You told him what to do to achieve a peaceful outcome. You offered every possible olive branch. He was the one who became aggressive.”
     “But did he really?” Sephiroth asked, lifting his head to look at the dead doctor. “Or did I overreact?”
     Grimoire looked back at him with a firm, level gaze. Incorporeal hands ‘cupped’ his blood-sticky face. “I trust your instincts,” the man said staunchly, “If you believed he was about to lash out, then so do I. After all, you knew him far better than I did. On top of that, he didn't seem entirely stable— whether that was his core personality or his illness affecting his mind, I stand by that.”
     Sephiroth didn't say anything, letting his head drop through Grimoire's hands.
     “... But he seemed at peace, at the end,” the dead doctor continued, voice softening further, “And isn't that more important?”
     Slowly, he nodded.
     “Take your time with your emotions,” Grimoire advised him, a translucent hand reaching into his field of view to touch his knee, “It's been a rough month, and a lot of things have happened. Be patient as you process it all— and more importantly, be kind to yourself, understand?”
     Sephiroth nodded again, even though he really didn't. Part of him suspected that the doctor knew he didn't, but there was no time to address that as the sound of someone yelling drifted in through the open door. Getting to their feet, Sephiroth and Grimoire went to go see what the racket was.
     The answer, it turned out, was Hollander. Apparently the man had survived, though was now being herded up towards the observatory by Nanaki snapping at his heels. Though Sephiroth imagined Director Verdot and the old man Hollander had been interrogating earlier were helping. The Turk especially. Sephiroth wondered when he had arrived. As the group drew near the observatory, Hollander seemed to spot him, going silent and pale, tripping over his feet. It was an understandable reaction— Sephiroth imagined he looked rather gruesome at the moment, coat torn and scorched, caked in tacky half-dried blood and who knew what else...
     “Wh-what do you want?” Hollander demanded as the group came close. “Genesis is dead— am I really worth going out of your way to get rid of?”
     “You know and stole company secrets, Hollander.” Verdot growled darkly, making the man gulp with a queasy expression.
     Nanaki, however, stepped forward, jerking his head into the observatory as he replied, “Undo that. Get him out. You're the one who did it, aren't you? Even with the blood, I can smell you all over it.”
     The old man laughed gleefully as Hollander gaped at the lion.
     “Professor.” Sephiroth said, voice rasping a little— almost two days awake and little to no water catching up to him, most likely. It did the trick, though, Hollander all but tripping over himself to rush into the observatory. Nanaki trotted in after the man, looking vaguely smug. As Hollander began muttering to himself, sprinkled with Nanaki's dry interjections, Sephiroth turned to Verdot. “When did you arrive?”
     The Turk crossed his arms as he replied, “A while ago. Made sure all the refugees were alright and got the ones in most critical need of help to Corel. After that, headed back— found your little friend from Avalanche, who filled me in on what was going on. Got here just in time to finish off the warehouse guards and see that you finished your end. Avalanche's leader is unconscious, and her second isn't much better. We should take care of them now, while we have the chance.”
     Sephiroth hesitated, for several reasons.
     “Sephiroth.” Grimoire said, a mischeivious glint in his eye. After listening for a moment, Sephiroth nodded.
     “Nanaki,” he called into the observatory, “I'll be back shortly. Will you stay with them?”
     The lion's tail bounced, and he thought Nanaki was smiling at him. “I will.”
     “And when you come back,” the old man chuckled, “Perhaps the two of you should have a chat with me, eh?”
     Ah, Sephiroth realized after a moment as Verdot nodded curtly, this must have been Nanaki's grandfather. His own nod was a lot less curt as he turned to follow the Turk director. Grimoire lingered for a moment, seeming to examine the man with his head cocked, and Sephiroth swore he saw the old man give his grandfather a cheeky grin.
     They moved through the town, now populated by people murmuring between themselves as they looked over the damage to their homes. Director Verdot led him to the outskirts of the town, deeper in the canyon and just in front of an old warehouse. It stood on a bit of a ledge— not close enough to be worrisome, nor was the drop too severe. More like a small hill than cliff. Making note of that, Sephiroth put the director between himself and the ledge as they approached the bedraggled group outside the warehouse.
     “We can't stay here,” he heard Shears declaring, shortly after spotting him with Elfé across his shoulders again, “Shinra's already got goons here, and that rat bastard— oh, what the fuck do you want?!”
     The group instantly became wary, prepared to fight despite being largely unarmed and in no condition to do so. Sephiroth admired their resolve if nothing else as they turned to see who Shears had yelled at. Sephiroth nodded tiredly, letting his heels drag a little. Verdot didn't seem to notice, crossing his arms as he snapped, “What do you think? You lot are under arrest for acts of terrorism.”
     “Do we have to right this second?” Sephiroth asked as Grimoire struggled to contain a smile.
     “General, do you honestly think we're going to get a chance like this again?” Verdot replied, turning to glare at him.
     He shrugged, looking at Shears again. “They helped,” he said, “I wouldn't have been able to secure Cosmo Canyon without their aide. And both sides are currently in mourning for lost companions— it feels only right to offer a brief ceasefire while we all recover.”
     The Avalanche members were looking at him oddly, probably trying to figure out what he was getting at. Verdot, meanwhile, sighed and shook his head. “We don't have room for emotions, right now, General. I understand the sentiment, but we have a job to do.”
     “He seems oddly fixated on Miss Elfé.” Grimoire commented, head tipping to the side as the Turk turned away.
     Sephiroth didn't give too much thought to his grandfather's words as he reached out and siezed the back of Verdot's jacket. To the shock of everyone, he was certain, he hauled the man to the side and shoved, sending him tumbling down the ledge.
     “Sephiroth!” Verdot roared furiously as Grimoire grinned and several Avalanche members bit out startled laughs.
     “Oops,” he called back blandly, “It would seem that two days with no sleep, twelve hours with no food or water, and blood-loss have made me lose some of my faculties. What a shame— I best sit down and recover myself. I suppose Avalanche will escape.”
     “Oh, he's livid.” Grimoire remarked in delight as Sephiroth fell into a cross-legged position, propping his chin up on one hand. “He's going to try to court-martial you or something of that nature when he gets out if that ditch— maybe throttle Vincent.”
     Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at the still-staring Avalanche members, even as he allowed himself a soft smile at his grandfather's description of what was happening at the bottom if the hill. Shears was the first to snap out of it, yelling, “This isn't over, bastard!” But once he did, the entire group seemed to shake themselves out of the shocked daze and began to run. Sephiroth waved a little as they did.
     Once all of Avalanche had fled, Sephiroth stood back up and moved to join his grandfather peering down the sandy slope. “Would you like some help?”
     Verdot glared up at him in a way that promised murder.

Chapter Text

     “Do I want to know what happened?” Nanaki asked curiously as they returned to the observatory. It looked like the mako was almost completely drained from Angeal's tank by now, Hollander watching the controls closely. Someone had put a sheet over Genesis, which Sephiroth was grateful for, and gathered all the clone bodies into a heap outside, presumably to be dealt with later.
     “I pushed him down a cliff so Avalanche could escape.” Sephiroth replied, ducking his head to avoid another swing from Verdot.
     “And we're going to have words about it later, dammit!” the director snarled furiously as Nanaki's grandfather chuckled. Turning to glower at the old man, Verdot snapped, “What did you want?”
     “Oh, no, not you,” the man grinned, waving, “This boy and the spirit following him.”
     “So you are Nanaki's grandfather, then.” Sephiroth confirmed as Verdot and Hollander both gave him odd looks.
     “More than that,” the man chuckled, “Unless my memory fails me, that charm there used to belong to Grimoire Valentine, who coincidentally seems to be attached to you— I wonder if he remembers me?”
     As the Turk stepped closer to Sephiroth, face unreadable, Sephiroth himself turned to his grandfather. Grimoire was examining the old man, a slight frown on his face.
     “Feel free to look around a little, if you can't guess right away.” the old man gestured. Sephiroth moved to as central a point as he could in the observatory, and Grimoire began to pace around, examining the building carefully.
     “What's this about a spirit following you?” Verdot asked, voice flat but hard.
     “He's had a ghost attached to him— for about a month now, or so he claimed when I asked about it.” Nanaki supplied.
     “Bah— everyone knows ghosts aren't real.” Hollander muttered. Everyone ignored him.
     “About a month, huh,” Verdot said, arms crossed, “So around the time you started asking about his research.”
     “Would you have believed me if I said I was being haunted?” Sephiroth pointed out, raising an eyebrow at the man.
     “I still don't.”
     Nanaki's grandfather laughed.
     Before anything else could be said, Grimoire erupted out of a wall he'd vanished behind, yelling, “Professor Bugenhagen!”
     “Who?” Sephiroth asked, blinking in confusion at the dead doctor's sudden excitement.
     “Mine and Gast's old mentor from when we were students! That was decades— how old are you by now?!”
     Nanaki's grandfather— Grimoire's mentor— laughed again, declaring, “I think you can do the math yourself, Grimoire! It is delightful to see you again, though I do wish it had been under better circumstances.”
     “Do they know each other?” Nanaki asked as Grimoire began muttering out dates and numbers, Verdot looking at everyone like they were crazy.
     “I guess they were teacher and student, once upon a time?” Sephiroth answered.
     “Huh. So in another world, we might have been raised together.” Nanaki commented.
     It was very off-handed, mere speculation, but the thought still made Sephiroth reel. Choosing not to dwell on it too much, he left his grandfather to calculating the old man's age and instead went to supervise Hollander.
     “How much longer?” he asked.
     “I'm almost done!” Hollander promised, waving his hands as the machinery hissed. For once, it seemed the man was right, the tank unlocking with a loud clunk.
     The second he heard the noise, Sephiroth clambered up onto the console and shoved the top aside.
     “Do you want a stepladder?” Nanaki asked, already padding away as Sephiroth attempted to reach Angeal in a way that wouldn't hurt his friend. He grunted out an affirmative, and after a moment Nanaki returned, headbutting a wheeled set of steps, presumably for a bookshelf, along. The action drew the attention of the other three, and Verdot moved to hold the thing steady as Sephiroth jumped down from the console and climbed up it instead. It was much easier to reach Angeal and hoist him out, and Sephiroth was grateful Nanaki had thought of it.
     “His spirit is clouded,” Nanaki's grandfather— Professor Bugenhagen— said warningly, “Be patient with him as he wakes.”
     “What does that mean?” Grimoire asked as Sephiroth came down from the steps. He hesitated to lay Angeal on the floor— someone had made an effort to clean it of blood and viscera, but it was still stained and sticky.
     “Are you implying he has mako-poisoning?!” Hollander demanded, puffing up indignantly as Sephiroth tried to figure out what to do. “Preposterous! He's a SOLDIER! A perfect specimen, at that!”
     “Shut up,” Nanaki ordered, the flame of his tail swinging close to Hollander's leg, “Grandfather would know better than you.”
     In Sephiroth's arms, Angeal groaned, wing flexing enough to make everyone step back. The tips of his feathers were already tinged pink from the residue on the floor, and the blood dried on Sephiroth was flaking off to cling to his skin.
     “Ow,” Angeal groaned, hands suddenly grabbing at Sephiroth, “M' head...”
     “Easy...” he soothed. “Can you stand? Here, let's get your feet under you...”
     After a moment, he managed to get Angeal upright, the man blinking confusedly down at himself. When he looked up, there was no spark of recognition as he looked at Sephiroth.
     “... Who are you?”
     “Preposterous, eh?” Nanaki huffed, shooting Hollander a look. The professor looked horrified.
     Sephiroth took several deep breaths to steady himself, then replied, “Sephiroth Crescent-Valentine. Your friend. Does anything hurt?”
     “Um...” Angeal looked at his hands, then began to pat himself down. “No. Am... I supposed to have a wing?”
     “Yes.” Sephiroth nodded. Gesturing to his grandfather, he asked, “Can you still see him?”
     “Am I not supposed to?” Angeal asked, head canting to the side as Verdot glared in Grimoire's direction.
     “Only a select few can,” the dead doctor explained, “Especially since I am dead.”
     “Oh. Sorry to hear that.”
     Grimoire shrugged. “It's hardly your fault, Angeal. We can worry more about me later, though.”
     After a moment, Angeal nodded, though he looked doubtful.
     “For now,” Professor Bugenhagen interjected kindly, “Why don't we get you cleaned up and into some proper clothes?”
     Angeal looked down at himself again, then blushed, nodding. “Please.”
     “I'll take care of Hollander— don't you think you're weasling out of anything, though.” Verdot volunteered, pointing viciously at Sephiroth.
     “Hm.” he hummed noncommitally as Hollander began to protest. The director glared at him, but quickly turned his focus to arresting Hollander and dragging him away. Angeal watched curiously, prompting Sephiroth to say, “Don't worry about him, Angeal. We won't let him hurt you any more.”
     “Oh. He—?... Thank you, I guess? I'm... having a hard time remembering...”
     “Don't worry about that,” Professor Bugenhagen reassured, “You're a perfectly hale young man. It should wear off by tomorrow.”
     Sephiroth couldn't help but sigh in relief as Angeal nodded. Nanaki gave him a sympathetic look as Grimoire murmured, “It's alright, you'll be here for him either way...”
     As Professor Bugenhagen led Angeal away, Sephiroth asked, “Would you help me with the bodies...? They were their own people once...”
     “Of course,” Nanaki agreed, “Will he be buried as well?”
     It was a simple question, well-intentioned, but it made him freeze.
     “What's wrong?” his grandfather asked, cool hands ghosting over his arms as Nanaki's head tipped.
     “... Where should I bury Genesis?” he asked. “He... was so proud of being from Banora, but Banora isn't there any more... I don't—”
     “Sephiroth.” Grimoire cut him off, making his head snap up. He hadn't realized his gaze was drifting towards the sheet-covered figure. Nanaki sat down, looking patient yet expectant as Grimoire continued, “Don't worry about it just yet. Save him for last. Give yourself time to think— maybe by morning, Angeal will have recovered from his mako-poisoning, and will be able to help you figure it out. Alright?”
     Swallowing a few times, Sephiroth nodded. Being given an order like that— gentle and kind as it was— helped ground him. Turning to Nanaki, he relayed, “Leave him for now. I don't know what to do just yet— but maybe Angeal will be able to help.”
     The lion nodded. “Alright. Let's go mark the burial plots, first. I suspect it'll be easiest if you know where to go and how to get there before we move any of them.”

Chapter Text

     “They look like me.” Angeal frowned.
     By now, both of them had showered, eaten, and Sephiroth had napped. With the help of the residents, most of the bodies were already buried. Sephiroth suspected he was going to attempt to sleep properly once everything was said and done— he'd leave his grandfather to talk to Professor Bugenhagen, and Director Verdot to call Nibelheim. He was exhausted, in more sense than one.
     At Angeal's observation of the dead A-clones, however, Sephiroth replied, “They're clones of you.”
     His friend frowned at him, brow furrowing in the way it usually did when he was thinking.
     “If one introduces your genetic material to another creature, they become a clone of you— it adopts characteristics reminiscent of you, as well as forming a mental link through which you can issue orders or receive information. You choose primarily to use it on dangerous creatures starting to encroach on human settlements or posing threats to travelers.” Sephiroth explained, reciting information both Angeal and Grimoire had told him.
     Angeal didn't say anything, merely turned to look at one of the G-clone graves.
     “... Genesis was sick,” Grimoire said firmly when Sephiroth failed to find words, “And we suspect it had begun to affect his mind. He chose to use his ability on other humans, and that was a moral failing on his part— not either of yours. Do I make myself clear?”
     “Yessir.” Angeal nodded, Sephiroth mirroring the action.
     For a while after that, they lapsed into silence, merely helping dig out graves and bury bodies, the residents of the canyon carefully carving out simple wooden markers to place, though Nanaki said they would later be replaced with stone. The warmth of the sun beating down made Sephiroth feel even more drowsy, periodically shaking his head or pinching between his thumb and index finger to perk himself up. Grimoire scolded him when he noticed that, but Sephiroth told him that he wanted to help more than he needed sleep. Angeal had wrinkled his nose at that, hesitantly saying he didn't think that was healthy— which dragged Nanaki into the conversation and created a slightly heated debate about working out emotions in a timely manner. They were broken out of it by Professor Bugenhagen laughing and telling them to take a break, especially since they had all been working through the night.
     At his suggestion, they retreated to the small inn where Sephiroth had cleaned up and napped earlier. Almost the second he sat down, Sephiroth felt his head droop. He didn't lie down without telling Angeal and Nanaki to ask Verdot to call Nibelheim when he showed back up. Once he had, however, he fell asleep almost instantly.
     Despite his exhaustion, though, his sleep was anything but restful. Sephiroth couldn't say he dreamed very often— or, rather, that he never remembered them— but this one swirled murkily, dark and tar-like. There was a persistent whisper in his ear, the rhythm and cadence sounding suspiciously like a Loveless recital, punctuated by the rustle of feathers. Or maybe it wasn't feathers? The drag of flesh against flesh? Either way, it made something in the back of his throat taste wrong, even when he woke up in the dead of night.
     “Are you alright?” Grimoire asked as Sephiroth sat up, head in his hands.
     “Bad dream.” he answered quietly. The taste was reminiscent of both blood and bile, with an underlying current of mako. It was making his stomach turn.
     His grandfather didn't say anything. Sephiroth was glad for it, getting up to find a glass of water. Hopefully he could wash the horrible taste away.
     As he washed his face in the en suite bathroom, Sephiroth heard Angeal wake up and begin talking to the dead doctor. He couldn't help but grimace at the sound— Angeal had mako-poisoning and here he was fussing over a dream. Something unreal and impermanent. Cupping his hand under the faucet, he drank a mouthful of lukewarm water and tipped his head back to gargle. When he spat it back out though, holding his hair back with one hand, Sephiroth found himself staring, slightly tense.
     Smeared against the porcelain of the sink was a lump of blackened phlegm.
     Taking a deep breath, Sephiroth called, “Grandfather.”
     Grimoire stepped through the closed door, though he quickly averted his eyes when he saw Sephiroth undressing. “What's wrong?”
     “I need you to check me for injuries.”
     That made the man look at him, frowning in concern. “Injuries? I thought everything had healed by this afternoon.”
     Sephiroth gestured to the sink. Grimoire took one look, then straightened up with a curt nod. “Tuck your hair over your shoulder, I'll start with your back. That sustained the worst of it.”
     “He was...” Sephiroth said, choking a little as he obeyed. “I...”
     “We have evidence of his genetic material mutating, and you had multiple open wounds during combat,” Grimoire said for him, a soft chil drifting over his spine, “There was quite a bit of bleeding on everyone's part. We should return to Nibelheim as soon as possible so Lucretia can have a look at you— I'm not seeing anything on your back, turn.”
     Grimoire didn't find anything, though he admitted it was hard being unable to actually touch. The fact that Sephiroth felt fine otherwise seemed to be promising, but could have been false security— just look at Genesis's injury. Grimoire directed Sephiroth to seek Professor Bugenhagen first thing in the morning, and then make Verdot return them both to Nibelheim as quickly as possible.
     When they stepped out of the bathroom, Angeal looked up from his bed in obvious concern. “Everything okay?”
     “We overlooked the possibility of Genesis's blood infecting my injuries yesterday.” Sephiroth admitted grimly.
     Angeal cringed, nodding in understanding. “Anything I can do?”
     “Focus on your own recovery,” Grimoire said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest as Sephiroth sat down, “That way he won't have to worry about you. Understand?”
     Again, Angeal nodded. Looking to Sephiroth, he admitted, “I think I'm starting to remember some things. We used to be coworkers, didn't we? But I... I left, I think?”
     Sighing, Sephiroth nodded. “I can't... blame you too much. I still feel... bitter. That you and Genesis left me without so much as a word. But... knowing what I do now about our origins...”
     “... For what it's worth, I'm sorry,” Angeal told him, head bowing, “I can't remember why I left just yet, but I should have said something.”
     “Once you've recovered,” Grimoire hummed, kneeling on the floor between them, “Make sure you say everything you didn't then.”
     Angeal nodded, looking determined.
     “To Zack, too.” Sephiroth emphasized.
     “Z... who?”
     “Your mentee,” Sephiroth explained, “He's just about my second-in-command these days, but you're his hero first and foremost.”
     “Oh...”
     The expression on Angeal's face was soft and wondering as he looked down at his hands. As if he couldn't picture himself being a hero. Or maybe couldn't picture himself being a teacher, thanks to his currently missing memories.
     “... Zack... I hurt him, didn't I...?”
     Apparently just hearing the name had jogged something. Sephiroth hesitated, but nodded.
     “So you make sure you apologize to him as well, next time you meet.” Grimoire said in a no-nonsense tone.
     “... Sounds like I have a lot of apologizing to do...” Angeal chuckled hollowly, hands curling into fists.
     Sephiroth shrugged, looking away. “Honestly, you should probably leave before morning... or I might not be able to stop Verdot from arresting you, and if Shinra gets their hands on you like this...”
     “Well,” Grimoire piped up, drawing both their attentions, “He already failed one arrest today. If Angeal is quick, he might be able to catch up.”
     It took Sephiroth a moment to understand. But as Angeal tipped his head in confusion, he caught on to the mischievous look in his grandfather's eyes. Once he did, he couldn't help but smile a bit himself.

Chapter Text

     “Hm,” Professor Bugenhagen frowned, examining Sephiroth, “It is hard to tell. The discovery that led to you was well after my time. I would trust your mother to know best.”

     “Then you should return to Nibelheim quickly.” Nanaki declared, sounding concerned.

     “That was the plan, yes.” Sephiroth nodded as he shrugged the borrowed jacket back on. His coat was... somewhat ruined from all the fighting. The back in particular had been torn to ribbons. But one of the canyon residents had given him a jacket to wear— an old dark maroon aircraft jacket with a black fur collar. Not exactly his style, but it had fit, which was the most important part.

     “Before we leave,” Grimoire piped up, “We had a few questions that Nanaki said you might be able to answer, professor?”

     Professor Bugenhagen laughed merrily. “I haven't been a professor for many years, Grimoire! All the same, ask away!”

     For Nanaki's sake, Sephiroth asked, “Do you have any clue why or how this happened?” while gesturing between himself and his grandfather. The lion perked up a bit, looking interested.

     “Oh, it's nothing to worry about,” Professor— or just Bugenhagen?— smiled, waving them off, “A very long time ago, when the Ancients still walked with us, it wasn't entirely uncommon for someone to find an ancestral spirit guiding them! It became much rarer as time went on, and the Lifestream began to flag. These days, although there may still be ghosts and spirits in the world, it is rare for them to be ancestral guides, and even rarer for them to be seen by their descendants! As for why you can see him... why your friends could see him... well, there is a very high concentration of mako in you, isn't there?”

     “So it does, in a way, have to do with the SOLDIER treatment...” Sephiroth murmured.

     “How does it happen? Sephiroth and I weren't even aware we were related until just recently.” his grandfather frowned.

     Bugenhagen shrugged, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Who knows? Even an old man like me can't understand all the mysteries of the planet!”

     “He's having us on.” Grimoire grumbled.

     At the same time, Nanaki scolded, “Grandfather, don't tease.”

     The old man laughed, shoulders shaking. “Unfortunately, I truly don't! I may be old, but even I was born after the Ancients had all but vanished— I've only ever met one, and she was very disapproving of my choice of career, especially given my ancestry! Refused to speak to me much at all!”

     “Huh.” Nanaki said thoughtfully, tail bobbing.

     “You're lucky I'm dead,” Grimoire declared ruefully, “Or I'd never leave you alone about this.”

     “How long will it last?” Sephiroth interjected, doing his best to keep his face neutral.

     Bugenhagen, however, seemed to see right through him, smiling kindly. “The bond between you is strong. I foresee it lasting for quite a while.”

     He swallowed, nodding. Grimoire also smiled at him, murmuring, “I told you we'd figure it out, didn't I?”

     Had he? Sephiroth couldn't remember. He was just... relieved, he supposed. His grandfather wasn't going to fade away in the night, leaving him alone. It might have been selfish, but Sephiroth couldn't bring himself to care— he hadn't been lying when he told Nanaki that if he could, he'd keep Grimoire with him until he died.

     With no other questions and no other business, Sephiroth and Grimoire bade Bugenhagen farewell. The old man wished them luck, encouraging them to write when they found the time. Nanaki chose to walk with them to Verdot's helicopter.

     “I am glad everything worked out, in the end.” the lion said, tail swishing.

     “We aren't quite done yet.” Sephiroth reminded.

     “No,” Nanaki agreed, “But have you not made good progress? Should you not have peace for a while now?”

     “With any luck.” Grimoire hummed gently.

     Nanaki didn't hear the dead doctor, even though his ear twitched towards the sound.

     “I suppose,” Sephiroth admitted, “All the most pressing matters have been dealt with, after all.”

     They were coming up on the helicopter. It looked like Verdot had shoved Hollander into the back with at least two layers of duct tape over his mouth. Sephiroth hoped that after taking him and Grimoire to Nibelheim, the director took the selfish scientist straight to the Junon prisons.

     Nanaki slowed down, prompting Sephiroth to do the same. Grimoire glanced between them, then stepped slightly away.

     “... It may be callous of me to say,” Nanaki said hesitantly, pawing at the ground a bit, “But I enjoyed fighting alongside you.”

     “... The situation was... less than ideal,” Sephiroth replied, “But I don't find it callous.”

     Seemingly encouraged, the lion lifted his head to look him in the eye. “Perhaps some day, you can visit again, and Deneh and I can take you hunting.”

     It hadn't been that long ago, had it, that his grandfather had suggested he and Zack could take up hunting monsters? The thought made him unable to keep from smiling as he agreed, “I'll bring Zack, my second— I suspect he'll adore both of you.”

     Nanaki seemed to smile back, tail bouncing. “I wish you luck in your endeavors 'til then.”

     “Thank you.”

     He couldn't explain how he did, but Sephiroth knew Nanaki understood it was thanks for more than his well-wishes. The lion gently headbutted his thigh, then turned and trotted back into the village. Feeling... almost cheerful, Sephiroth continued on towards the helicopter, Grimoire falling into step beside him.

     “Zack will be jealous you made a new friend without him.” the dead doctor remarked with a playful glint to his eye.

     “I promised to introduce them.” Sephiroth objected.

     “Save the ghost-talk for later,” Verdot ordered as they drew close, “I want to make Nibelheim before sundown.”

     Sephiroth rolled his eyes, Grimoire chuckling as they got into the helicopter.

     Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

Chapter Text

     Things were not okay.

     “It's not anything to panic over,” his mother said despite sounding slightly hysterical, “It's just... a minor complication.”

     Sephiroth exchanged a look with Zack.

     After arriving in Nibelheim the previous evening, they'd all gone to sleep with promises of details getting shared in the morning. The Turks had prepared themselves to leave, Lucretia had hugged him so tightly she lifted herself off the ground, and Zack had chattered a mile a minute until going to bed.

     Sephiroth had dreamed again of swirling, murky darkness, with someone whispering Loveless in a ragged, uneven voice, the sound of feathers and flesh rasping in the background. He'd woken with the awful taste in his mouth again, but spat up no phlegm. Instead, his back ached, as if feeling the phantom sensation of the mutated clone's talons still.

     “How complicated?” Vincent asked for everyone as Lucretia fluttered anxiously about the lab.

     “The G-cells aren't integrating into his system,” she replied, “He's not taking on their features, they're not converting to S-cells or J-cells, but they aren't dying and passing out of him. If anything, they're agitating the Jenova-splicing— dest—”

     She cut off, a look of horror on her face as she glanced at him.

     “Destabilizing.” Sephiroth finished grimly.

     “Is Seph... degrading the way Genesis did?” Zack asked fearfully, fingers knitting together anxiously.

     Lucretia shook her head in an almost vicious manner. “No,” she said, so forcefully it almost sounded fake, “Destabilizing isn't the best word, but it's the most understandable. Sephiroth is stable, and he won't degrade unless he doesn't take proper care of himself as he ages. It's... between examples A and G, what's happening to Sephiroth is closer to Angeal. What was destabilized wasn't Sephiroth himself, but the internal balance that kept his Jenova-altered genetics dormant.”

     There she paused, eyes shining wetly as she gulped for air a few times. Vincent stepped silently forward, nudging his knuckles against hers.

     “... That monster is trying to take my baby from me...” Lucretia whispered, and Sephiroth felt his stomach tighten furiously for how terrified she sounded.

     “You won't let her,” Grimoire said firmly, expression resolute despite how no one could see him but Sephiroth, “You're a brilliant woman, Lucretia, you can figure this out.”

     Before Sephiroth could relay the dead doctor's words, Zack awkwardly asked, “Could we try a blood infusion? Or? Something?”

     “No,” Lucretia said firmly, shaking her head, “We don't... that is a last resort. We don't have enough information on why you have no reaction to J-cells, or what attempting to apply your material to a primarily Jenova-infected sample would do. It could cause a breakdown in the immune system, leading to violent mutations, or lead to complete nerve-system failure—”

     “More bone marrow?” Zack offered, holding out his arm.

     Cut off, Lucretia seemed to freeze for a moment. Then she nodded, instantly flitting about the lab.

     “You don't have to.” Sephiroth murmured as he put the gifted jacket back on again.

     Zack turned to punch at his shoulder, clipping Grimoire as he declared, “I want to! You're my friend!” with a determined scowl. Then the boy nudged him more gently, ordering, “You go take a walk or something, Doc needs me on the table now!”

     “A walk will do you good, I think,” Grimoire agreed, stepping towards the stairs, “Come on.”

     Sighing a bit, Sephiroth followed his grandfather out of the lab and into the still-scorched forest. The manor had been... not repaired, but all the debris had been put in a pile off to the side, out of the way. By this point, most of the ash was either gone or mixed into the soil. Nothing had made the attempt to regrow yet— and probably wouldn't until next year. But there were small animal prints here and there, evidence of the local fauna trying to make the best of the situation.

     After a few minutes of walking around— the A-clones were nowhere to be seen by now— Grimoire quietly said, “Now don't answer this is you don't want to.”

     Sephiroth paused, turning to look at his grandfather.

     Grimoire's head tipped to the side, as if he was studying him. “Your memory seems to be quite good. You mentioned being able to recite Loveless well when you were cleaning the village with Zack.”

     Sephiroth slowly nodded, suspecting he knew where the dead doctor was going.

     “And yet you said ‘me’ when it should have been ‘all that awaits you is a somber morrow.’”

     He didn't answer for a moment, folding his arms over his chest. The new jacket crinkled a little with the motion, broken in but not yet accustomed to his body. Grimoire waited patiently, turning his gaze to the less scorched wilderness.

     “... because it's true, isn't it?” Sephiroth said quietly. Grimoire looked back to him, but didn't say anything yet. “He was... important to me. Precious, in a sense. And losing him...”

     There hadn't been a better way to say everything he had wanted to say in the moments he'd had. But like that— he had seen, he had listened, he had cherished, and he was fairly confident that Genesis had understood. He still hadn't figured out where to bury the redhead— the people of Cosmo Canyon had agreed to let him be buried there for now, but Sephiroth just couldn't figure out the best place. Midgar? The remains of Banora? Nibelheim, where Sephiroth wanted so badly to live and maybe one day be buried himself? But wherever it ended up being, never again would Sephiroth hear him reciting Loveless or making some sharp remark.

     All that awaited was a somber morrow.

     “Do you want a hug?” his grandfather asked gently, arms already held partially open.

     After a moment, Sephiroth stepped close, wishing yet again that Grimoire was just a bit more corporeal as the dead doctor ‘held’ him.

     “Take your time,” Grimoire advised softly, the cold of his hand barely penetrating the aircraft jacket, “You'll figure things out eventually— your feelings included. Just be patient with yourself, understand?”

     “I don't know if I have the time to be patient.” Sephiroth replied, thinking of swirling, murky dreams and ragged whispers.

     His grandfather ‘grabbed’ him by the shoulders, stepping back to look him in the eye. “Trust your mother,” the dead doctor ordered firmly, “She knows what she's doing, and she'll plainly always put you first. It's obvious to anyone with eyes that she loves you more than anything in the world. She'll have you sorted out in no time.”

     His emotions tangled in his chest and clogged his throat— grief, gratitude, and something uncomfortably akin to fear. Rather than try to speak past the complicated knot, Sephiroth just nodded. He suspected his grandfather knew there were things he wasn't saying, but Grimoire still nodded back, stepping away as he suggested, “How about you call Domino tonight? I'm sure he'll be eager to hear how things are going, since last he knew, Hojo had come to scold you.”

     Logically, the mayor probably already knew some of what had transpired since— his claims of being nearly as informed as a Turk had thusfar proven accurate. But the thought of how the man might react to Sephiroth telling him that Hojo was dead was enough to make him snicker a bit.

Chapter Text

     He was woken from yet another dark dream of feathers and ragged Loveless by a tapping on the window.

     “We have a visitor.” Grimoire remarked in amusement as he sat up in the bed. The dead doctor was standing at the tapped-upon window, eyebrow raised.

     And on the other side of the glass was Angeal, looking mildly exasperated.

     Sephiroth was out of bed in an instant, unlatching the window and pulling it open.

     “You really foisted me off on a terrorist organization?” Angeal asked with a wry smile.

     “You remember?” Sephiroth asked, chest tight.

     “Not everything. But enough has come back to me by this point that I'd call myself recovered.” Angeal replied, clambering inside. “If I might ask why you decided to tell me I had run away to join Avalanche?”

     “I think you're good for each other, so that's why I suggested it,” Grimoire smiled as Sephiroth closed the window again, “There are things you can teach each other, as well as demonstrating sincerity on Sephiroth's part in regards to his stalling on their arrest. Trusting them to keep you safe in exchange for their freedom, in a sense.”

     Angeal scoffed a bit, shaking his head with a smile. But then he grew serious, turning to Sephiroth. Instinctively knowing the topic that was about to be broached, he bowed his head.

     “... Are you okay?”

     He shook his head.

     “... Can I ask what happened?”

     “How aren't you...”

     As Sephiroth trailed off, Angeal sighed. “You... were right. He was going too far. Doing things that... I think if he had been in his right mind, he would have hated himself. But he... changed, didn't he? Even if I was turning a blind eye to it. He was always dramatic— always had those fits of jealousy and lashed out, but he always... he trusted us to understand him, and to be able to withstand any lashing out. He needed an outlet sometimes, and he trusted us to help provide it. But that... wasn't him. I just didn't want to admit that I had failed him somehow.”

     He still couldn't bring himself to look at Angeal, studying the floor behind the curtain of his hair. But since Angeal had answered his question, he replied, “I held him at swordpoint and told him to surrender. That if he came peacefully, I would ensure he got both a fair trial and proper treatment. But he saw Elfé and Nanaki freeing hostages through his clones, and... I still don't know if I overreacted or not...”

     Angeal was silent. But then he stepped closer, and Sephiroth figured that for killing his childhood friend, a blow or two was warranted—

     A warm hand closed around his own, and he lifted his head just a fraction.

     “Thank you,” Angeal said, voice thick and mournful, “I... don't know if... But I do know he's not in pain any more, and that's... more than I was giving him, wasn't it?”

     Grimoire was quiet as Sephiroth gently squeezed Angeal's fingers back. Voice shaking a bit, he admitted, “I don't know where to bury him. He's... in Cosmo Canyon right now, but...”

     “I'll take him to Banora,” Angeal promised, “There's still nothing there, but even when he was... he was always proud to have grown up there. He always wanted to take you— this way, you'll have to visit, even if the trees are gone.”

     The laugh that left him was weak and wet, barely more than a huff. Angeal still squeezed his hand at the noise, and looking up just a bit more, he saw that his friend's smile was just as wobbly as he felt.

     As they stepped away from each other, Angeal cleared his throat and said, “I didn't see any of the Turk vehicles on my way in.”

     “They left this afternoon,” Sephiroth confirmed, mildly relieved by the change of subject, “Taking Hollander to Junon, then returning to Midgar, I believe.”

     “And... Zack?”

     “He's staying here for the time being,” Grimoire replied, “A few complications arose after everything was said and done in Cosmo Canyon, and Lucretia needs him a while longer.”

     Angeal nodded, looking awkward. Clearing his throat again, the man announced, “I may bring Felicia and Shears by sometime tomorrow, then. They, ah, seem to have a bone to pick with you.”

     Sephiroth couldn't help but roll his eyes a little, ordering, “And you'll apologize to Zack.”

     “And I'll apologize to Zack.” Angeal nodded. Before Sephiroth or Grimoire could say anything else, Angeal rocked back on his heels with a frown. “What complications?”

     “During all the fighting in Cosmo Canyon, I was exposed to Genesis's blood,” Sephiroth admitted, grimacing as the words brought the dreams surging to the surface, “And it's begun reacting with my own Jenova-genetics.”

     “Are you okay?” Angeal frowned, eyes wide and hands held slightly out.

     “Lucretia claims it's nothing to panic about,” Grimoire sighed, shaking his head, “Though she herself was rather visibly panicking.”

     “She suspects what I am undergoing is more similar to you than Genesis. So long as I take care of myself and monitor my health, I should not begin to truly degrade. But given that I am... different, from both of you,” Sephiroth said, looking slightly away, “We have no guarantees about what will happen to me.”

     After a long, tense moment, Angeal let out a rather lost-sounding, “Shit.”

     “Aptly put,” Grimoire nodded sagely, “Now to bed, the both of you. From the sound of things it'll be an emotionally taxxing day for everyone tomorrow, and it'll be easier handled if you're well-rested.”