Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Clarisse never expected she'd be in this predicament— carting files upon files to different departments. She was sure— no— positive there was a better way for this to be handled. No doubt without the need for her to traipse the long length of every floor, running easily 2 miles the compound contained— and then some— just to deliver necessary documents. Wasn't there a fax machine for that? Couldn't the documents wait until the internet and everything was back up? What kind of company lets the internet stay out of order for this long? 

Whatever the case was, she was livid and had to swallow her own curses before stopping her cart near the Department of Science. 

The articles were stacked in neat boxes, all from her own doing. President Shinra, the all-powerful, gestured to the unruly mess in his office and twirled his palm— his way of getting all the documents cleared away. More like commanding her to do it. If it weren't for her, she'd hardly call this company functioning. 

Being a secretary was an easy enough job— that's what she figured when applying with hope budding in her chest. That's what she nearly shouted when she got the acceptance call— she nearly danced around her living room.

She was excited until she arrived. The last secretary had quit unexpectedly and there she was— left with a desk that she swore a hurricane had hit. Apparently the self righteous son had done his best to cover the position. And the president gestured his thick, ring lined hands towards her chair before disappearing into his otherworldly office. 

Yeah, some real gem of a job she snagged. That was about 6 months ago. And many of her friends told her to run, especially after the many times she has been shouted at for something that was hardly her fault. The world praised Shinra, but had no idea his entire world would crumble if there was a bit of spilled milk. No one knew that his brow twitched every time she'd walk into his office— or when he shouted a vein on his temple would pulsate outward. Little did the world know, but that man running this operation was a big child, with poor organizational skills. 

Swallowing hard, she tugged the thick folder containing all the documents that had to be sent to the department of science. She thumbed through the packet quickly, assuring it had everything before turning on her heels and scanning her badge on the keypad. 

The science department was always huge, with many sub departments lingering within that section. Thankfully, there was a front desk for this department. It saved her the extra time. "Hey there," she plastered on a fake smile as she approached a man behind a desk. He gave her a smile and looked up past his computer, "I have some documents for the department—" she shuffled the folder and rested it on his desk. 

"Shinra really made you come all this way?" The man sneered. She had only talked to him a few times— either on the phone, or via email. Despite that, she recalled his name quite easily. Mark Portillo.

"Yeah," she muttered, "until the internet gets rolling again. Hopefully won't be much longer."

It was ridiculous, and she knew Mark felt similarly by the way his eyes rolled and he slid the documents off of the desk and looked them over. "You are quite organized. I ought to take notes— ah Hojo! These are for your department—" a tall, gaunt man with greasy black hair pulled into a low ponytail turned and looked over a clipboard he was studying. Round tinted glasses hid whatever eyes he had away from the room. He clicked his tongue before reaching out and taking the folder. 

Hojo— department head of Science and Research. That man was a walking library of knowledge. That man was a legend. A legend who hardly spoke to the outside world and nearly scoffed as he looked over the documents he received. He was quick to tuck the folder away and continue walking without uttering a word. 

"That man is a genius," Mark stated, watching as he turned a corner, white lab coat trailing behind him. 

"And sure talkative," Clarisse mumbled, cracking a chuckle from Mark.

"He's always been like that, even more so since his promotion." Mark shrugged. "Thanks for walking all the way down here for this—" he flipped up the thick folder showing her neat penmanship on it's cover. 

"Mr. Shinra's pleasure," she sarcastically responded, gaining another amused snort from Mr. Portillo. 

She was back to harnessing the cart— thinking about the words she had just had with an unfamiliar, familiar acquaintance. Since his promotion.  

The promotion that caused a lot of waves. She recalled that day well— a thick man dressed in a lab coat slammed his fists on her desk, rattling the pens that rested in a metal cup. She looked up from her computer to meet the blazing eyes of who she assumed was Hollander— his meeting scheduled at 4:45. He was twenty minutes early and seething.

The meeting was explosive— and despite the thunderous tone Hollander took, Shinra remained level-headed. "Hojo?! He's the lead?!" 

"He was the best man for the job, professor." Shinra's tone was very calm despite his usual snappy demeanor. It almost seemed like he knew it was coming— knew the tidal wave was bound to attempt to drown the building. 

The tone Hollander harbored still etched in her mind— and once the meeting concluded, she was forced to throw away the meeting notes. Shinra claimed that the man needed to be shown mercy. 

She recalled writing a company wide email, littering his name in the text with a glowing representation. She wrote emails back and forth with him, set appointments for him to meet with the president, but never saw him. Quite frankly she wasn't disappointed that it was her first official meeting with the genius behind SOLDIER. She almost wished to erase it completely. 

Speaking of SOLDIER, that was her next destination and the idea made her skin crawl. SOLDIER was a highly praised, highly sought after department. She swore that 85% of Shinra's earnings poured right into SOLDIER— and the department accepted it like a sponge. The department of Defense, City Planning and many other sub departments received the back burner when pitted against the department of Science and SOLDIER. The two were like the favored twins. Everyone else? They were like ghosts, like unloved children. 

She found it gross that those two departments took on such a lead within the power company— next to Materia Development. The whole thing was— icky. 

Not to mention the whole face of SOLDIER that really set her off. There was something chilling and repulsive about publicizing, worshiping and creating an entire franchise over a man who'd kill thousands of people— all for Shinra's name— all for SOLDIER.

He was everywhere— there was no escaping the all powerful, all mighty, Sephiroth. He was on commercials, billboards, and posters— he was referenced in pop culture and made cameos on TV shows. The man was a celebrity with a charming half smile and long silver hair. The world loved him, the girls adored him, the men wanted to be him. 

She hated him. 

There was something about him that she hated. She didn't know him personally, she had only saw him when he came to meet with Shinra and never gave him a second glance. He didn't seem bothered— after all, the man has 700 fan clubs and women who would throw themselves at his feet. What did one secretary mean to him? The leverage he had on everyone and everything made her hate him and SOLDIER. 

The elevator gave a charming ding as it revealed the 49th floor— all dedicated to SOLDIER. She stepped out of the lift and grabbed the edge of the heavy cart containing hundreds of files. Digging her heels into the floor, she pulled the cart forward and it lurched at her command— however the front wheels struggled to get over the threshold. She grumbled, and gave the cart another tug despite its uselessness. 

"Hey! Need some help?" A chipper voice echoed off the pristine walls and empty lobby. 

Clarisse didn't bother to look away from her cart and groaned, giving another tug to the cart— "no, I got it, thanks." Her words were forced from between gritted teeth. 

"Sure looks like it," the voice twisted and reflected in a sarcastic tone. "Here, let me help." She felt a strong body press against her side, politely shoving her away. A man with raven black hair gripped tightly at the cart handle and effortlessly tugged it forward, unlocking the wheels from the jutted threshold. He pulled the cart forward and rested it comfortably in front of her. 

The man was dressed in the usual SOLDIER attire— baggy gray pants, blue chunky knit, sleeveless turtleneck sweater and thick, dark armor on the shoulders. He was fully equipped with a sword that had a glittering gold hilt and razor sharp blade. She expected him to turn and give her a strong gaze— mako infused iris' burning with a warrior's strength. She expected to see scars littered against his skin— etching his face and marking it; Mementos from war. But what she saw was exactly the opposite.

His face was soft, kind, his eyes still Mako infused, were gentle and held hers with warmth. They were bright, like small gems. "Uh, thanks—" she searched for a name and he grinned, putting his gloves hands on his hips. 

"Zack! Zack Fair, SOLDIER, second class!" He shoved his hand towards her, causing her to jump. Zack was— different, different from Sephiroth, different from typical SOLDIER member's. She cautiously took his hand and squeezed it—

"Clarisse," she started, tilting her head and allowing a small smile to pull to her lips. "Clarisse Ross, Secretary to President Shinra." 

"Woah really?! The president's secretary?! Here?!" Zack's enthusiasm caused her to fall back a bit. He reacted much like everyone did upon the sighting of a hero— she just handled paper work. But with a bite of amusement she grinned and played along. 

"In the flesh," she curtsied, resting a hand on her cart. It wasn't every day she was held to such a high regard. 

"Amazing! What brings you all the way to SOLDIER?" He crossed his arms over his broad chest and glanced at the cart, then back at her— head tilting in a playful way— almost mimicking a puppy. 

"Clerical work," she shrugged, gesturing to the cart. "Can you point me to the direction of Director Lazard?"

"I sure can," he smiled with a bit of a nod. "Right this way, Ms. Ross— let me get the cart for you." He stood behind it and gestured for her to follow. Quietly, she wished every SOLDIER member was this kind— but she knew how far from the truth that was. 

"Is this your first time at SOLDIER?" Zack inquired, looking back at her as she paced a few steps behind him. Her eyes were hyper focused on the expansive lobby, and beautiful view— even though it overlooked the hazy mako facility— it was still beautiful when peering through the gaps. Sleek black leather couches lined the walls beside well watered plants— and a small table rested near a window— she was sure people sat there to eat and chat. SOLDIER was well funded— and that much was beyond clear by how put together everything looked. 

"Yeah, I'm a bit new here—" she admitted sheepishly, despite her usual outgoing self. "I've emailed back and forth with many of the department heads, but never met them formally or visited their departments."  

"Well this works out perfectly then! You get to meet Lazard, he is pretty great. And if you want, I'll be happy to give you a tour!" He bubbled, a wide smile pressed to his face. He led her through a small corridor, the wheels of the cart on the polished dark granite floor echoed off of the bare walls. 

"You don't have to go through all the trouble," she tried. "I know you must be busy—

"Nah," Zack interrupted. "I'm waiting to train, I got here early and my mentor hasn't even arrived yet. I have all the time in the world. As long as you have time—" 

She smiled and looked to the floor. "Believe me, I'd do anything to keep away from my desk right now." Her words were merely spoken by her breath, but Zack still managed to pick them up. 

"Then allow me to be your tour guide." He stopped in front of a door and leaned on the cart with a grin. 

Lazard's office was huge. The ceiling was lined with florescent lights, the back wall had a holographic sign with Shinra's logo in neon blue, and the walls had tables, chairs, bookshelves and filing cabinets. The room was bigger than most office spaces— another strike towards her theory that SOLDIER was the president's favored child— even before Rufus. 

She was so enraptured by the size of the office space, she hardly noticed the man sitting at the head desk. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" His voice fell like velvet, catching her attention immediately. He seemed lean— at least what she could gather from what she saw. He wore a pinstripe suit and a finely pressed dress shirt with a tie. He wore glasses with clear lenses and metal frames. His hair was blonde and well kept, swept back from his eyes. Objectively, he was handsome. But she didn't allow herself to get wrapped up in Lazard Deusericus. 

She had corresponded with him on several occasions via email— shedding light on the Wutai situation, formulating tasks and meetings for Shinra. She had heard his voice before on the radio— and as soon as he announced who he was, she turned it down with annoyance. 

"This is Clarisse Ross," Zack introduced— providing her a little recovery time. "She is President Shinra's Secretary." Zack halted the cart and rested his hands on his hips.

"Ah, Ms. Ross. Pleasure to finally meet you—" Lazard stood and walked around his well kept desk. 

"The pleasure is mine," she found her bearings quickly at the sound of his heels clicking on the polished floor. She went straight for the box containing paperwork that had to be filed away. "These are for you," she stated, pulling the heavy box from the cart. 

"All of these?" A thin manicured eyebrow rose upward as he accepted the cardboard crate. 

She nodded firmly, "president Shinra wanted me to give these to you promptly." Lazard hummed as he turned and sat it on a nearby table. He opened the lid and began paging through the well organized files. "The paperwork ranges from meeting details, notes from the Science Department, notes from Commerce, applications for recruits, updates from the Department of Defense— Materia reports—" 

"You are very organized, Ms. Ross." Lazard stated over her ramblings. "I'm impressed. I've worked with Shinra for many years, and I know this isn't his handy work." He glanced over at her from just above his frames. It was odd to get such a compliment, and so many in one day. 

She was used to everything being thrown in her face— she deemed herself to be less than qualified for her job. But moments like this and meeting Zack; solidified her purpose. She had unique attributes. 

"I'd be lucky to have a secretary like you," he pulled a document from the box and looked it over.  For a minute she thought about being his secretary— he seemed so fair and kind, a stark contrast to what she is used to seeing from her employers. She imagined within this environment she would thrive— and no doubt would be seeing more of Zack. Had she mentioned that he wasn't the typical SOLDIER member? 

"Thank you," sheepishness began to plume across her chest and stomach— sprouting seeds of nervousness in her limbs which made them slightly shake. 

"I should be thanking you," Lazard's kind gray eyes peered over the paperwork. "For lugging all of this information around." 

"Believe me, it's nice to get out—" get away, be away from Shinra and his cold iron stare. 

"I'm sure." Lazard only grinned. "Thank you again, I hope we can talk again soon— Zack, please aid her back."

"You got it Director!" Zack stood straight, smacking his heels together, saluting the man as he moved the box of paperwork towards his desk. 

Zack turned the cart around and began leading her out of the expansive office— and just as they reached the door, it automatically slid open, revealing none other than Sephiroth— he seemed taller than the commercials made him out to be, his long, silver hair held a shine that the cameras didn't seem to capture fully. He was broad in the shoulders with a wide, muscular chest that his uniform only playfully hinted at. His face was objectively handsome, stern gaze with vaguely familiar blue and cat-like slits as pupils. His full lips remained in a straight line, zero emotion plastered to his stoic face. Zack froze in his spot and saluted until Sephiroth silently dismissed him; walking past without saying a single word. 

"Ah, Sephiroth, good to see you—" Lazard's voice echoed off of the walls and rattled quietly at the back of her mind.

She almost forgot how to breathe, until the door opened again with a hiss— pulling her back to the present. Zack quietly motioned her to follow, leaving the room before Sephiroth could open his mouth. 

"Your first time seeing Sephiroth, huh?" Zack asked over the echoing of the cart as they paced down the hallway. Truthfully it wasn't. She had seen him when he approached her desk to meet with Shinra. It was a rare occasion and one she never looked forward to. However she was never focused on him either— he'd state his arrival and she'd gesture to the office door. He always had special treatment. 

When Sephiroth arrives, just send him in — Shinra stated with a small twinge in his eyebrow. 

She never even looked up at Sephiroth when he arrived for the one on one meetings. she could only recall two of them— one she gestured to him, the other was when she was on her lunch break. So really, she only encountered him one time prior. 

"I've seen him before—" she only partly fibbed. "Looks the same on TV." She swallowed any small threads of feeling and bolstered herself back to her own task. After all, she hated Sephiroth.

Chapter Text

Zack, like promised, gave her the grand tour of everything SOLDIER. The training room was the first to be presented— it had state of the art technology, using a VR system to build life-like scenarios to give each SOLDIER a well rounded lesson. Zack all but demonstrated the mechanics for her. And from behind the glass of the observation room, he discussed the many training sessions he had endured with his mentor. 

Next was the weapons storage room— he opened the door just enough for her to peek inside. Swords that matched the one he sported lined the walls on racks. Beside that were targets made of multiple different materials, wood, foam, metal— the list could have gone on. The swords ranged from different sizes, daggers to pole arms, to broad swords. The room had it all.

Then the Materia room. This room housed hundreds of Materia. From the elemental to enhancements— Each Materia was contained in cases, labeled and dated by the creator. They were shipped from Defense regularly, and SOLDIERS were to earn the privilege of using Materia. Zack informed her that he only was able to use Materia in training and it was confiscated afterwards. He had yet to receive such a promotion. But that was his goal— to be a hero and to wield Materia like his Mentor. Zack also informed her that at one time, they'd use that room to develop Materia. But because it became so lucrative, they gave the development its own wing. Now they use the room to fuse any Materia and store the new shipments.

Lastly, he took her to the briefing room. It was the least appealing information wise. However visually the room was very attractive. A large string of desks made a horseshoe shape in the center of the room— each containing a monitor with the same standard blue background that was programmed on all the monitors. And hovering above the desks was a large screen— used to present material and objectives for the other SOLDIERS present. Zack didn't have a whole lot to say about the room. He merely gestured to it and asked her if she had any questions. 

At the end of the tour he took her back to the Lobby, where that table was in front of the windows. When the tour started, it was empty— but now a few individuals dressed similarly to Zack gathered around, talking, playing cards and eating. "There ya have it!" Zack guided her back to the cart. "SOLDIER and all its glory. Whatta think?" 

She placed her hand back on the cart handle and nodded. "This was very informative. Gave me a new perspective, that's for sure." Truth be told, it did shed a more human glow to the production. Whenever she heard about the department, or even thought of it— her mind circled to Sephiroth and his otherworldly stare, and the constant darkness that somehow loomed over everything the floor touched. However, seeing it, being in the room with some of the soldiers and meeting Zack gave her some idea that it wasn't ALL bad. 

"Well good!" Zack all but cheered— clearly feeling successful in swaying her views even for a minute. "Hey if you are ever in the—"

"Zack!" A stern voice broke his thought completely and he whipped around to look at the man who called him. 

"Angeal!" Zack responded, "Where have you been, man?" He ran up and tackled the larger man, but ended up in a headlock. Zack struggled for a moment but sighed and fell limp, unable to win against Angeal. 

Angeal Hewley was another face of SOLDIER however was not overly publicized like Sephiroth. He was mentioned in press conferences, and referenced in company wide emails. He was a highly regarded first class SOLDIER. He was tall, not quite as tall as Sephiroth, but he was close. He was muscular, sporting the standard SOLDIER uniform with a black sweater-like shirt rather than the second class blue. He had the same Mako infused eyes and dark hair that partly hung in his face. Contrasting to every other SOLDIER she had met— besides Sephiroth— he had a large buster sword that almost seemed wider than her. It had to be heavy, and if his biceps said one thing, it was most likely weightless to him. 

Angeal finally loosened his grip, allowing the younger to squeeze from his grasp. "I have been looking for you. We were to meet ten minutes ago." Angeal's voice was deep and held an air of command. 

"Really?" Zack looked at the clock that hung on a nearby wall and audibly gasped. "I'm sorry dude! I was giving Clarisse a tour of SOLDIER. It's her first time at this department."

"Clarisse, huh?" Angeal's mako blue eyes looked at her then the cart she had almost forgotten about. 

"Uh, yeah," she found herself getting shy all over again— she blamed it on the amount of testosterone she was exposed to. "Clarisse Ross, president Shinra's Secretary." She fidgeted with a scrape in the metal handle of the cart, her nail catching before sliding out. She repeated that process as Angeal looked her over. 

"Ah, his secretary. I knew your name sounded familiar. I'm Angeal—"

"Hewley, you are one of the most popular people here," her confidence found her quickly as she reached a hand out towards him. He kindly smiled at her and took it firmly in his own. His hand was oddly warm— again, stark contrast to what she expected. 

"Nice to meet you. I hope Zack didn't take up too much of your time." Angeal's gaze fell back to the cart then shifted to Zack who laughed nervously. 

"No, not at all. I'm sorry for taking up your time—" she awkwardly shifted. "Thank you for the tour Zack." She began to pull the cart back and shift it to line up with the elevator door. 

"Yeah of course!" He rushed over to assist, recalling her struggle the first time. She stabbed the call button and waited patiently. "If you ever need anything or have any questions— you can email me on the company site. Uh— it's [email protected]" he rattled off.

"SOLDIER dot Shinra dot Net. Got it." She grinned as the elevator doors opened. Zack assisted her with mounting the cart back on the lift before waving goodbye. Just as the doors closed she witnessed Zack playfully pushing Angeal. 

She felt a little respite as she wandered her way to her last destination. SOLDIER still harbored a darkness she couldn't quite put her finger on— however, she supposed, it wasn't all that bad. 

The next morning, her little sabbatical didn't go unnoticed— Shinra looming over her despite his short and stocky stature. Height was never a factor with that man— she was sure he made the largest of them all cower in their boots. He reamed her out for a good half hour in his office— from 8:00 to 8:30— the phones were set to automatic voicemail. 

"I expect everything to be handled in a timely manner—" he growled, blonde mustache dancing on his upper lip. "And the last thing I need, is my secretary off gallivanting the company doing who knows what with whomever she can find. It's irresponsible and unacceptable." His tone was deep— hardly the screaming match she expected. Yet despite it, his anger still boiled with severity— she was hardly off the hook. His steel eyes narrowed on her as he rounded his desk. "I will not tolerate insubordination. Do I make myself clear, Ross?" His tone sharpened as her name slid from his tongue.

She fought the urge to slam her hands onto his desk and stand— skidding the chair against the floor. Rather than the outburst she would so willingly give, she swallowed her venom and licked her teeth in hopes to control her anger that burned beneath her skin. This man was impossible— sending her on a wild goose chase with boxes upon boxes of paperwork and files— no lunch break and hardly time to use the bathroom. God forbid she learn a thing or two about the company she so willingly devoted her time to. But rather than throwing this all in his face and flipping him off while storming out— she took a deep breath. "Yes sir."

If it weren't for the way she desperately needed to keep this job, the financial burden dangling over her head like a carrot to a pig— then she would act on every impulse. But truth be told, she was hardly scraping by and finding a new job was out of the question. 

He leaned forward, thick hands splaying open onto his desk. "If you are tardy one more time, you will be out of here. I've had about enough of you young ladies with dullard minds running my desk."

She gripped hard at her twisted fingers, probably drawing blood from the way her nails dug at her flesh. It was the only way she could keep herself tethered. "understood, sir." She dropped her head obediently, complying with his threat despite her distaste for his words.

He sighed heavily, plopping into his chair. "Good." His tone chilled significantly. "I have a meeting at 9:45 this morning with the department of Urban Development," he stated as if she wasn't the one that penciled it into his schedule.  "I would like coffee before then."

"I will make you a cup right away—"

"I don't want that half brewed swill you always make." He flicked his wrist as if he were shooing her away. "I want coffee from the court. You have a half hour to be back in time for me to enjoy my cup before the meeting. If you are late then don't even bother showing up. Is this something you can handle? Or is it too much?"

"I can handle it, Sir."

The court— 46 floors down and bustling with life at the ripe hour of 8:30. Everyone and their brother gathered there in the food court before their shift. It was convenient, and tasty when one forgot to make breakfast. She wouldn't know— her funds never could afford such a luxury. While in line, she eyeballed a couple as they ate their breakfasts, sipping on fancy coffee. The breakfast croissant looked fabulous— baked until it was a crisp brown on the outside and fluffy on the inside.

Her stomach growled at the sight, before the line moved forward. time was ticking quickly— she had been in line for officially 15 minutes. The young man at the front struggled to decide if he wanted decaf or caffeinated coffee. She'd pay him to step to the back of the line to decide.

She had to hand it to Shinra, he was king at making life miserable. She bet that he knew exactly what he was doing— sending her down at the busiest time. He wanted to watch her fail— he wanted to watch her pack her shit and leave. No wonder the previous secretary just left. She swallowed deeply as she finally stood in front of the register. A boy with dark hair and gloomy eyes looked up at her. "And for you?"

She shuffled a scrap of notebook paper from her pocket and cleared her throat. "Two grande lattes with two pumps of vanilla, two pumps of Caramel and three shots of Espresso." One day she'd memorize this order— but her anxiety always got the better of her and she carried the scrap with her every time.

He didn't bother looking up. "Name?"

"Ross."

"That'll be 23.50."

She choked, but pulled out her wallet and forked over the money. 

"Damn expensive coffee—" she muttered with the two cups tucked into her hands. She didn't usually order two cups, but with the luck she seemed to run into she didn't want to risk losing the president's valuable coffee. She ordered two just in the event that one was destroyed. "Damn his bullshit." She hissed again, checking her watch as she nearly jogged down the hallway towards the elevators— evading passersby and loitering individuals who stood and chatted. Oh what it would be like to stand and chat without the weight of your crumbling career hanging over your shoulders. 

She had 9 minutes to be back at floor 120, Expensive latte sliding into the president's hands. She was sure he'd give her a disapproving glance before accepting it and shooing her away with a flick of his fingers.

He didn't know that the coffee money came from her savings— her fought over pocket change was used at his disposal every time. "I swear!" She huffed beneath her breath, taking the sharp corner towards the lift. "One more comment and I'll dump this coffee right on his—" 

Her words slammed hard onto her gritted teeth as her body collided straight into a brick wall— coffees held in either hand exploded their searing hot liquid onto her blouse, down the front of her pencil skirt and speckled all over her face. And she bounced back onto her ass from whatever unmovable object she just rammed into. From the floor her mouth fell loose, heart in the puddle of hot coffee that now painted the floor brown. 

"Oh my God," she gasped at the sight of Sephiroth dripping in hot coffee and gazing at his dark leather clothes. "I- I am so sorry!" She fumbled to her feet pulling the napkins she had shoved wildly into her purse— out into soaked and shaking hands. She didn't think twice before dabbing the rough paper onto his clothes and skin— cheeks firing red in embarrassment. "I am so sorry, Sir!" She shook, shifting the napkins to try and soak every drip of hot coffee off of his ivory skin.

"It's alright," his voice rattled deeply, yet calmly— a complete contrast to what she had expected. She tucked her face downward as she fussed over him— ignoring his gaze completely. 

"It's not! Are you okay? Did I burn you?" She was nearing hysterics— and was sure she heard the gasping of ongoing traffic as they gathered near the court. The sight of a messy, scrawny woman dabbing boiling hot coffee off of a world renowned hero. If being late with coffee wasn't going to throw her out— surely dumping hot liquid on Shinra's best asset would do it.

"I'm quite alright, really." He insisted, large gloved hands taking hers firmly. "There is no need to fuss over me." The action pulled her eyes away from the coffee soaked napkins and the broadness of his chest to the catlike eyes that watched her closely. 

"No need to fuss?" Her face was wired with confusion. His, in turn, softened with a look she didn't think he could possess. "I just poured searing hot coffee all over you. That is more than enough reason to fuss." She insisted back, hands slipping from his as she continued to try and clean him. "Oh God I just dumped coffee all over Sephiroth—" she was stating it more to further solidify her demise. "I'm so sorry Sephiroth—" never in a million years did she think she'd be apologizing to the man she'd curse every time she passed his face on a billboard.

"Please," he stated again. "There is no need to apologize. Unless this was intentional." Her eyes ripped from the task at hand to him, who held a playful smirk. "Like I said, I'm fine. Truly." 

"But you're wearing leather—"

"There's no need to fret over a bit of spilled milk. It will clean."

She swallowed hard before glancing at the horrendous mess that dripped from her clothes and pooled at their feet. "I'm so fucked." She sighed, her hands that folded around the soaked napkins fell to her sides.

"You're late for something, aren't you?" He glanced at the clock then to the two paper cups discarded on the floor. 

"I have six minutes to get one of these coffees to my boss" She sighed. "or else I'm fired." She partly expected Sephiroth to laugh at her misfortune, shrug her off and continue with his morning. Truthfully, she couldn't even look him in the eye. Her guilt was far heavier than she had ever expected. 

"Well. We can't have that, can we?" He bent and picked up the paper cups and lids from the floor. Shock overcame her body, eyes widening as he stood to his full height— stacking the cups inside each other. "get back in line at the cafe, I'll handle this mess."

"Huh? Wait? For real?" Dark brown eyes searched his for a joke, but only seriousness reflected back. He gestured to the growing line with a small smile on his lips.

"For real."

"Can I buy you a coffee? As an apology at least?" She scooped her once white purse up by the handle.

"I'd love a cup. But I would hurry."

What the hell was happening? She nodded at him before rushing back to the growing line, heels slipping from the coffee that coated her soles— but she ignored it while getting in line. Damnit the line was just as long as before. Her eyes nervously glanced at her watch that was speckled in drying coffee. Five minutes. She tapped her foot wildly, watching the tall, silver haired man flag down a passing janitor with a mop bucket. 

Thee Sephiroth was... Helping her? She had to be losing it or dreaming. Oh may the Lord allow this to be a dream. The room exploded with noise as he entered, people gawking at him as he approached her. There was absolutely nothing subtle about him, drenched in coffee standing beside her who was also drenched in coffee. 

Four minutes. She nervously fidgeted beside the towering celebrity who hardly seemed like the man in every other commercial and press conference interviews she had seen. But the time was dwindling— and her mind couldn't crack open that can of worms. The conversation about dullard women resurfacing her mind like a bad aftertaste. "I'm so fucked, what am I going to do?" she whispered beneath her breath, catching Sephiroth's attention. He grinned slightly before gently taking her arm and pulling her from line. She gasped and struggled for only a moment— his long legs nearly forcing her to tumble and fall as he approached the front of the line. A woman about Clarisse's age stood staring at the brooding gentleman with stars in her eyes. 

"Mr. Sephiroth—"

"I must apologize, I am in a hurry—"

"Please! Take my spot in line! I would be most honored!" The woman bowed and stepped back. Clearly she didn't even notice Clarisse standing to the side of Sephiroth's towering body. 

"You have my gratitude." There was a gentle lift to his tone as he took her spot— leaving Clarisse in complete shock.

"And for you ma'am?" The same kid from before looked at her with the same dead expression. She fumbled for that scrap of paper and repeated her order again, then looked up at Sephiroth for his. 

"Small, black coffee, decaf." She glanced at him with a question as he pulled napkins from the dispenser and began to dab some of the drying coffee off of his coat.

"$27.45" the cashier stated. She flipped out her card and inserted it into the chip reader. It buzzed with satisfaction and she pulled the card out swiftly. 

Eyes were on her, voices whispering as she stood beside Sephiroth who finished dabbing coffee off of his body and clothes. She wondered heavily on what they were saying— but the anxiety again would never allow her to dwell— the second hand on her watch ticked closely to her demise. The order came up the fastest she had ever seen and he took his coffee as she took the two of hers. 

"Thank you so much Sephiroth, again I'm so sorry—"

He grinned. "Thank you for the coffee, Clarisse. You don't have much time. Two minutes?" He sipped at his coffee and gazed at the terror that flooded through her face.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end— "oh my God. Thank you again!" She was quick to rush towards the elevators. 

She was late— and heard a small complaint from Shinra as she hit his office door open with her hip and presented the coffee. "Two minutes." He grumbled before fumbling with his paperwork. "You look like shit—" he glanced from the cup. "Clean yourself up. I need a presentable secretary for this meeting."

Chapter Text

She brushed by unscathed— like a cat with the rest of its 8 lives. Shinra only hit her with insults before shoving her away. She didn't lose her job, and she had Sephiroth to thank. 

She spent that night unpacking what she gathered from their interaction over an instant cup of ramen. Her bowl sat over the lid as she waited for the noodles to soften from the hot water. When looking at Sephiroth on the Shinra poster attached to her Apartment's lobby wall— he seemed severe, feared, strong with a gaze that sliced anything that came to touch it. There was a reason he was a hero— and it wasn't the hairstyle or dashing good looks, though all of that helped. He was a war hero for crying out loud. 

The man sliced and diced his way to that pedestal and she could hardly conjure up exactly what that meant. The weight of her head became far too apparent to her, she rested her chin on the heel of her hand for a breath of relief. The mental burden all of that knowledge had was far more than she could take. If he really wanted to— he could slice her into ribbons. 

He was more than capable.

Removing the bowl carefully from the foam ramen cup, she sighed heavily as she replayed the entirety of her morning. From the griping she endured from Shinra, to the long ass line all the way to smacking hard into Sephiroth who hardly swayed from the force at all. Then he helped her. Her— who dumped hot coffee on his skin and drenched his leather clothes with cream and whatever else Shinra had her lace inside— he even thanked her for the coffee that was bought as a Band-Aid apology. She grabbed her fork and stirred the contents lightly— all appetite falling away the moment her fork poked past the noodle barrier. 

Her head hit the table. "I'm hopeless." Part of her was repulsed that she was so bothered. She hated Sephiroth. He was everywhere on everything, drinking in praises for destroying people— killing them, slicing through them with his dramatically sized sword. He had to be compensating for something. 

However.

She couldn't shake the small smile he gave her, the little dry humor that was hardly humorous at the time. His tug on her arm as he cut the line for her— using his fame to aid her. How he slowly sipped at his coffee—

Wait—

He knew her name. Thank you for the coffee, Clarisse. You don't have much time. Two minutes?

Her head shot up from the table, nearly knocking over her cooling Cup Noodles. He knew her name?! She never gave it to him! She raked through the morning all over again, but never recalled so much as her speaking details about her job, let alone her name. That man was famous after all— how did he remember one secretary he had probably seen once. 

That thought consumed her until the dead of night, her last lingering thought was to bring it up the next time she spilled coffee on him. 

Meetings lined the roster for the day— taking up just enough time to slice her usual short lunch break in half. The deities that sought favor for her were either sleeping or dead because— what the hell. 

The moment she plopped into her crummy office chair and powered on her computer— she felt the toxic gaze of her immediate superior. 

He did that. It was his way of summoning her without opening his mouth. He'd shoot daggers at her through the small pane of glass that divided them. She'd giggle to her friend about how he was a caged animal— and she was the gate keeper. Her friend bounced off of that notion plenty. Careful when feeding the lion Clair. I'd hate to hear about you getting bit.

He's more of a ferocious pelican if anything.

She had to smirk at her inner monologue as she stood from her chair. The desk became illuminated in blue— standard background showing proud on her powering up computer. 

"You wanted to see me?" She asked, holding open his door and peering at him. 

"Come and sit." He gestured to the small lounge area he had in his office. She nodded compliantly, and slowly stepped away from her emotional support door. She called it that only to herself. She lost count of the many times she clung to that door as if it were the only thing saving her from Shinra and his tough regime.  It was also the only exit for her to run away and leave if he left his perch in an attempt to peck out her eyes— ferocious pelican and all. 

The leather arm chair hissed as she sat, and he moved from his desk to join her, stepping down a few steps to get to her level. Literally and figuratively. He perched himself on a leather couch and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I needn't remind you how busy today is."

His eyes were not bursting with flames so she counted that as a win thus far. She nodded. "You are fully booked with meetings today." Her planner was long forgotten on her desk, but her mental one was just as sharp. She began her briefing—

"You have a two hour meeting first thing with the department of safety. Heidegger wants to discuss a plan regarding his men and complaints he has received from staff about his brash nature. He wants to smooth out any ruffled feathers. You have a second meeting directly after with the Department of Science, City Planning, Safety and Defense. Hojo wants to convince you to up his budget for newer equipment regarding mako extraction as well as the placement of a new Mako reactor. Then there is a meeting with Commerce. After the meeting with Commerce, we have a fifteen minute break for lunch— afterwards we will be meeting with the department head of SOLDIER to discuss the recruitment situation and strengthening regime on the younger SOLDIER candidates. Lastly, we will be meeting with the head of Foreign Affairs. He has yet to tell me his reason for meeting with you." She was nearly winded, yet impressed by her own words that fell from her mouth. She was good at this— and she made sure to tell herself that even if he disagreed with her. 

He huffed. "Heidegger for four hours." The statement fell as a groan. "Scarlett too will be present." It was practically a company known feat that the two got along like oil and water— each harboring big personalities that often clashed during meetings such as those. 

"I tried to convince Scarlett that her presence wouldn't be needed—" Clarisse began; "but she heard Heidegger was going to be present and insisted on joining." 

Shinra sighed deeply— one of the few times he allowed himself to be painted in human colors. It was a good look for him— she wished he'd keep that humanity when addressing her. "Have you scheduled a mediator to be present?" It wasn't a new thing until the conversation completely derailed the last time the two were in the same room— and the meeting extended over a half hour. 

"I have." She recalled the sticky note she wrote in shitty handwriting to have one the next time— it was on her monitor of her computer. Never did she want to be stuck in a room with the two of them again. 

"Good. Today will be long. I'd like a cup of coffee before we begin, wouldn't you?" She nodded slowly and stood. 

"café or brewed?" She asked although she figured she shouldn't have. The human shade he took for a chaste moment drained from him completely— 

"What do you think?" He snapped. 

Her head was aching— days like this were awful. She claimed it was the stars aligning for the perfect time to spawn a calamity. And if there was any calamity to befall Shinra Power Company, it would be a meeting with half of the department heads. The pissing match was beyond her in so many ways— even the President was at a loss. 

The moment Hojo brought up the idea of expanding his budget— Scarlett threw her hands up in distaste and the mediator stuttered over her with anything but grace. 

Needless to say— the meeting had to reconvene at a later date. They never got past the budget issue. Shinra, scanned her notes and sighed; revealing a shimmer of his human side once again. It ended quickly when the conference room door opened and a pair of men in suits stepped in. 

11:00 was the meeting with Commerce. And to put it bluntly, she didn't want anything to do with this dreaded meeting. It wasn't because of its nature— naturally, she had never been in a meeting with commerce. Seven months on the wagon and she hardly scraped the surface of everything Shinra was expected to sit through. One would think that she would have gotten a tour, met individually with people. No. She was a personal maid to Shinra. 

She swallowed hard and slowly slid back into her seat. She flipped the notebook page to a blank one. A clean slate— trying to cleanse her mind of the previous shit show she sat through. Hojo's voice stained her mind like spaghetti sauce on a white tablecloth. Flipping to a whole new notebook page was just the beginning of adding that stain remover. 

Something felt odd when one of the men greeted Shinra and introduced himself as a higher up of a company.... That sells gaudy accessories. She blinked a few times as she etched his name in her meeting notes, as well as the second guy's name. Demetrius and David. 

"Thank you so much for meeting with us, Mr. Shinra. We believe fully that you'll enjoy what we have to offer."  The first man, Demetrius stated. She could see the hope budding in his chest. "May we begin setting up for our presentation?"

"You may. I'm still expecting one more individual." 

One more individual? She didn't recall there being more people in this meeting. Unless Shinra got off his own ass to do something himself. A glance at her watch informed her that this individual had only 5 minutes to arrive on time. Otherwise Shinra would be seething and ready to tear down his well built company. Ferocious Pelican.

The notion made her smile just enough to flicker the corners of her mouth upward. She didn't have long to ponder who this mystery individual was— because the door swung open effortlessly, drawing her attention from her notebook page. 

Sephiroth sat down across from her— dressed in his usual leather attire, silver hair trailing down his back like a waterfall of moonlight. And his eyes, lined by thick eyelashes flashed an annoyed glance at the two men setting up an easel with their pitch board. 

All the dots connected. 

The expensive company wanted Sephiroth to be the face of it. Annoyance was quick to reflect in her chest— heat rising to her cheeks. As if he doesn't represent half of Midgar's products. The man was on everything— need he be on more things? She begrudgingly wrote his name on her notebook and partly hoped he didn't catch the malice she laced into the 'h' at the end of his name. 

He was the face of Chef knives "the Masamune blade", he was sitting beside hosts on talk shows, he had a shampoo named similarly to him and not to mention everything else! He killed people for crying out loud. She swallowed this rage she felt and glanced up at the silver haired menace. 

He was already looking at her. The frustrated grimace he held before seemed to deteriorate at the meeting of their eyes. And he gave her a small smile. It was wiped clean the moment Demetrius turned from the board and smacked his hands together. "Sephiroth! It is wonderful to finally be acquainted with you. I am Demetrius Saunti and this is my partner David Rutherford and we are from the well known company Versace." Sephiroth nodded at both the men as he shook their hands when they were presented to him. "We are advertising our new line of cologne *amore forte* and we would love to have you as the face of it." 

She expected him to willingly accept— making their meeting a whole lot shorter; fortifying her notions of him completely. But he simply slouched back and looked at the table. "What do you have in mind?" Shinra asked, leaning forward in his chair— elbows pressing into the table. Clarisse looked up from her notebook to the president, then to Sephiroth who held the air of a petulant child. Maybe that was too harsh— a defiant teenager? That seemed better. 

The men turned their eyes from Sephiroth to Shinra and directed them to gaze at the board. "Amore forte emphasizes the strength behind love. It takes a whole lot of strength to be in love as well as to show love. Sephiroth is the epitome of strength—"

She fought to roll her eyes, and began jotting their pitch down.  

"All we would need is for Sephiroth to show up on set and film for our commercial. There is no need for him to talk. We will film him shirtless to represent strength." Demetrius stated. "We believe that with Sephiroth's aid the company and product will skyrocket with funds. Which, Mr. Shinra, you are liable to at least half of what we make. It's also bound to bring in more traffic towards SOLDIER. Here is what the voice over will say—" Demetrius snapped at David who seemed to be in a daze, staring at Sephiroth. He was quick to shuffle into his briefcase and pass out papers to Sephiroth and Shinra. He gave Clarisse an apologetic look— like he didn't anticipate extra spectators when printing off the document. 

Shinra hummed as he glanced over the sheet. His mustache twitched, and he glanced at Sephiroth who was also reading the paper. 

"What do you think, Sephiroth?" Shinra asked— she was shocked. He actually cared about Sephiroth's opinion? He never gave a fuck about her opinion. Sephiroth was the favorite, no doubt— even though he never bought Shinra coffee out of pocket. 

Sephiroth sat the paper down and slid it away from himself. "I respect that you gentlemen come out here to request me. I'm flattered. However, this isn't something I would  feel comfortable advertising. Perhaps Genesis would be a better fit—"

"Mr. Sephiroth, if I may," David stuttered forward. "You are the strongest member of SOLDIER. Therefore you are the better fit. You wouldn't say anything— you'd let your body do the talking. Just your presence in the commercial would be all that we need." The man grew bold with each word he spoke. But his words did not sway Sephiroth in the slightest. His demeanor remained the same until Shinra cleared his throat. 

"How much are you willing to pay me for Sephiroth's presence?" Clarisse looked up at Shinra, the slight bite of frustration that had been struck against Sephiroth— changed its target. 

"One million." She nearly dropped her pen at the utterance of that amount. The way it was just thrown around like some monopoly money made her stomach clench. And here she was scraping by on hot pockets and whatever other instant dinners she can find. These guys would piss away big money for a 30 second shot of Sephiroth shirtless? She pointed her gaze back to the man of the hour, catching a bitter look that enveloped his gaze. He met her eyes again, and she grinned a mournful, knowing look. He returned it with something similar. 

All eyes pointed back to Sephiroth who gave a soft sigh. "President. I am a SOLDIER member. If this were a different product, I'd consider it, I think this may be too far—"

Shinra's eyes went rigid with his body, as if he repelled the idea of not accepting such an offer. "Demetrius, David—" Shinra's words slid off his tongue like silk, a stark contrast to his usual, condescending tone. "May Sephiroth and I have a moment?"

The men nodded "We will wait outside." Without further invitation, the two bone heads clamored over each other while exiting. 

Shinra waited until the door snapped before he began his tirade— "Sephiroth, this is a big deal. The money to be made is undeniable. Especially with the solid request from the Science Department looming over my head." Shinra sighed as he stood. "You understand the importance of giving Professor Hojo all of the funds he requires. I don't need to remind you of his genius." There was some type of shared glance, some variable known between the two that Clarisse was blind to. 

"No. I know full well." Sephiroth gave a challenging look. 

"Then you understand that this is a trivial thing in the greater picture. Your compliance is key." A note of a hiss lingered in his words, dangled on a thread that could only contain a threat. And usually such a tone would make Clarisse wither away into dust— Sephiroth only huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"My compliance." He seemed to hesitate on that word.

"Not to mention the traffic Shinra would get from sending such a message. SOLDIER is experiencing a downward decline in recruits. More of your image with the message that Shinra and SOLDIER can make one great, like Sephiroth would bring more people in." Shinra topped, as he paced behind Sephiroth. 

The SOLDIER was holding back something. Some words wanted to leave his lips, she could see them tremble. But the moment she noticed, he stiffened up and bowed his head. "If this is what you wish, then so be it." She blinked about a hundred times. He was unflappable before— what suddenly changed? 

Her mind was racing while Shinra invited the two men back into the room. This wasn't Sephiroth. This wasn't the man on the posters, the man on social media ads. He certainly wasn't the unwavering devoted caricature that the media made him out to be. The spilt coffee made a comeback in her mind— usually he was depicted as harsh, strong, fear inducing. But after ramming hot coffee into his partly exposed chest— he was anything but. 

The darkness which she felt consumed SOLDIER wasn't SOLDIER at all... Was it? There was something more sinister she struggled to pin point. Shinra's voice startled her out of her thoughts— 

"We accept your offer. Consider Sephiroth the face of your fancy perfume." Shinra grinned. 

"Cologne..." David muttered as Demetrius elbowed him. 

"Excellent! We want to begin filming right away. Accept this payment up front—" Demetrius slid a second briefcase forward. Inside were stacks of money. "The rest we will send over once we meet Sephiroth."

The logistics were recorded and discussed over, Sephiroth remaining silent the remainder of the meeting. And once they were dismissed, Shinra allowed her to take her lunch break— requesting her to bring him lunch from the court. Sephiroth held open the door for her and followed her out. 

There was a strange feeling that rose from him. Somber is what she'd call it, but it didn't quite fit the mood perfectly. They walked side by side as they reached the elevators. "Um," Clarisse started talking before her brain could catch up. "If it's to any consolation. I think that whole display was bullshit." They stopped at the elevator and he pressed the call button with a small smirk on his face. 

"It's typical." He shrugged as if it didn't bother him in the slightest. That feeling from before was gone nearly instantaneously.  

"Doesn't make it right. I'm sorry that you were forced—" the doors opened and he allowed her to step onto the lift first. She obliged, bowing her head as she stepped inside. 

"No need to apologize. If anyone understands Shinra, it would be you, correct?" He deflected her worry with an ounce of humor. He stabbed the button for floor 74, the food court,  before he hit the one for floor 49. 

"Yeah, you're right. Still bullshit." She muttered as the lift sputtered into action and began its descent. 

"Equates to sending you to the 74th floor during the morning rush to get coffee all within a 30 minute time frame." 

"I don't think it equates. I'd go ballistic if he had me pose shirtless for a stupid cologne." A deep chuckle made her brain catch up with her mouth and immediately red surfaced her cheeks. "Well it's different but still. Bullshit. But what bullshit doesn't he emit..." Another heavy sigh tried to quell the sudden rush of nerves his laughter gave her. "don't go and tell him I said that—"

"I won't." His words were laced with amusement, reflecting the laughter he wished to unleash. He smiled down at her, his eyes glittering with something unfamiliar, something human.  before long, his eyes glanced at the passing numbers above the elevator door. 

Silence enveloped them for a moment just as the elevator chimed on her floor— where she was to pick up Lunch for the president. "Well, I wish you luck on your commercial," she playfully saluted as she stepped off of the lift. 

"Thank you. I wish you likewise for the rest of your day." His voice fell playfully again. The Court reminded her of her name. Thanks for the coffee Clarisse.

"Wait—" she slammed her hand on the closing doors of the elevator, it winced back at her touch. "The other day, when I ran into you—" her cheeks flared pink, but she ignored it and pressed on. "You said my name. I never gave you that. How did you know?" Her eyes bore into his for longer than they had ever. 

He smiled and glanced at his boots. "It's not every day I meet someone who pays me zero regard." She stood straight and blinked, her mouth parting just slightly. His tone didn't represent anger nor resentment. It held something softer, almost like admiration. He met her gaze once more and smiled. "Have a great rest of your day, Clarisse." 

"Thanks, you too." Her mind was numb, like she just short circuited. The door slowly closed, and whirred back to life. Blinking, she turned on her heels and unlike herself— she smiled.

Chapter Text

Throughout the course of a few weeks, she found herself communicating with Zack, via company email. Oddly enough she never inputted his contact information— but he found hers and shot her a quick and simple email that led to pleasant conversation. It started off as 'the weather is great today'  then bled into more personal or deeper conversations. She admitted, he was fun to talk to. 

The evening was approaching rather quickly. She could only tell by how dark the clouds became while lingering over Midgar. It was beyond gloomy, which, in turn, made her feel likewise. Shinra had left early, giving her a list of menial tasks that he insisted she get done before the weekend. "These are important Ross. If one thing is out of place, consider it your last day."

Nothing more frustrating than staying late on a random Thursday evening. Especially with the knowledge that her superior was taking a weeks leave to visit his cabin near Junon. While she slaved to fill in for him. 

She made the last finishing touches to her update report, something mandatory she was set to do at the end of every day— take note of phone calls, meeting requests, and updates to the company and many departments. It was a pain in the ass, and believe it or not, Shinra was a stickler for detail and punctuation. 

With a few short, sharp clicks, she saved the document to the company database— a forum that only a few eyes had the ability to see— before beginning to clean up her work space. Flipping open her planner, she made small menial notes on the margins; penciling in her schedule and tasks for the next day. This ritual became second nature which was only natural when working for someone as anal as President Shinra. 

The look of such empty slots on the calendar gave some sort of tension break she didn't realize she needed. Like the snapping of a rubber band that was aching for release. She slumped back in her chair and debated what she would do to fill any empty slots, while chewing on the cap of her blue ball point pen. She could draw, knit, the ideas began to flood through her mind quickly— she could catch up on her reading, actually have a normal lunch! Was this what it was like to work a normal 9-5 job?! She was elated with a small smile equipped to her usual tired face. 

Around 5:30, she began packing up her things, slipping on her thin coat that hardly protected her from the rain that was unleashing from the heavens. The clouds that had only loomed in the sky all day , finally released everything they had been holding in— and it drenched Midgar. While bent over her desk and closing the windows on the computer, it chimed, a small banner jutting from the right hand corner. 

Zack Fair: heya Claire! Are you still around work? If not this can wait until tomorrow. I just need a friend to celebrate!

She debated on whether or not she should respond, she was tired— bogged down with the day and the mandate shoved upon her carelessly. The idea that Zack was beaming about something seemed to wither away her resolve. Her bag slumped off her shoulder and fell with a dull thud beside her as she fitted herself back into her seat. 

Still here, want me to meet you at 49?

The wait wasn't long, because his response flickered beneath hers rapidly— she dared the idea that he'd be great at secretary work. 

Zack Fair: Yes! Whenever you can! I'll meet you in front of the training room!

A small grin rose to her face as she shut down her computer. 

The rain was coming down hard, pelting the window at Floor 49 with a velocity to kill— or at least attempt. It drenched the metal exterior of the company, and seemed to soak in the faint glow of the green mako wash that was almost always present. 

It rained very little in Midgar, shocking to prior beliefs from outsiders. She blamed the pollution from the electric company, others felt it was the brutal extraction of Mako energy. But either way, it hardly rained quite like this. 

It reminded her of one night when she was little. Through the gaps of the upper plate, thick, heavy drops hit the dry soil by the playground she would frequent. And all alone, she smiled at the rain as it kissed her cheeks— dotting her hair and seeping into her clothes. That day was one of the few where she felt free, she felt alive. 

"Little fish in such a big pond—" a voice that fell similarly to a melody startled her from the small daze she was in. Her eyes snapped from the window to the only owner of such a voice. She recognized him almost immediately as he stalked past her, his foot falls echoing off of the empty room. "Why do you loiter around in such a place?" His poetic words fell softly, as he gazed out of the window where she had been for the few minutes she was waiting. 

Genesis Rhapsodos, one of the three, first class SOLDIERs. He was known by his fan clubs as romantic, poetic and gorgeous— she, however, would define him as arrogant, foppish and dramatic. There were a handful of times when Genesis would wander his way up to the President's office demanding an audience like a bishop would for the king's attention. Melodramatically, he'd flop on the leather sofa across from her desk with sunglasses on because the sun was far too bright. The windows lining the walls were 'too much'. And every time he would bring the book Loveless, the title always seemed to shimmer on its hard leather bound cover. It was like the man's bible, and according to the rest of Shinra, the Media, and her friend who was amongst the fans— he preached it daily.

She found it a little annoying. But swallowing that notion along with a bud of anxiety, she glanced at the clock. "Waiting on someone." 

"And who might that be?" His leather outfit creaked as he moved, turning to gaze at her just through his rust red hair. There was a smug smirk pull to his lips, mako infused eyes narrowing on her as if he were trying to read her. Well luckily for her, she wasn't the collector's addition of Loveless. 

"Zack Fair." She maintained a neutral tone, despite feeling caged by his questions. Her eyes did everything to avoid him, avoid his own penetrative stare— hoping for the moment to soften by Zack and his usual friendly outbursts. 

"Interesting—" the word hummed off his lips as he gazed back out the window. "Not what I expected."

"What exactly did you expect?" She questioned, watching as he moved away from the window with his gaze cast towards the floor. 

He hummed in contemplation, pacing in front of her once more. "Nothing, Clarisse. Just not who I was expecting." He held the gaze of someone who spoke too much, yet very little. And a small smirk ebbed to his face. 

"Heya Claire! Sorry for the hold up, ran into an old friend!" Zack's light jog from around the corner slowed to a halt at the sight of Genesis standing by her. "Hey, Genesis." The hyper tone that usually bubbled from Zack was zapped quickly upon the sight of the red leather cladded First. 

"Don't let me intrude on your escapades," Genesis waved, turning away from them— completely ignoring Zack. "I do hope we meet again soon, Miss Ross. You seem quite enthralling." Again his foot falls echoed off of the quiet room, and faded down the hall with him as he left. 

She couldn't shake the way he exposed her with his eyes— the way he reached for her vulnerability that she barred away with steel. There was something manipulative about his gaze, words and smile. He knew something she didn't, or that's what he wanted her to believe. 

"Sorry about that," Zack rubbed the back of his neck with a dash of remorse. "If I would've known he'd be here, I wouldn't have stopped to chit chat."

Her eyes lingered on the door where Genesis made his grand exit before turning to Zack. "It's fine," another glance at the door solidified that he was gone. "Is he usually that intense? I mean, everyone says he's dramatic and everything— but—"

"Dramatic? Yes, very. Intense? look back at the answer for Dramatic. The dude is like an enigma. Too bad you didn't get to hear Loveless." The Second shrugged with amusement. 

"That's a bad thing?" Clarisse's smile returned, draining the heavy air that hung around them— no thanks to Genesis. 

"No I guess not." Zack laughed. 

The training room was practically shut down when they entered together. A few ambiance lights reflected in the chamber, and the monitors in the observation room lit it up nicely. Zack was quick to find the circuit breaker and switched on all the lights. 

The florescent bulbs buzzed before flickering to life— machines whirring and rattling awake. "What did you have to show me?" She tilted her head as Zack forcibly closed the metal door to the breaker. 

"Remember how I told you I wasn't able to get Materia the last time you were here?" He stopped beside her; following her gaze towards the training chamber. 

"Yeah, you weren't promoted yet," it felt good that she remembered, the conversation flooding back at his question. 

"Well check it out—" he tugged a glassy ball from somewhere she didn't see, and presented it in front of her. 

It was beautiful, glowing brightly in the palm of his hand. She had heard of it— wrote reports on it, sent reports about it to Scarlet and Hojo. She even knew about it as a child— but she had never seen it so close. "You did it!" She nearly exclaimed, her voice bouncing off of the walls. "Congratulations! That is awesome! What kind is it?" 

He grinned at her and urged it forward to her again. "You've never seen Materia right? Why don't you take a guess." Her palms were immediately sweaty as he deposited it within them. The Materia seemed to react to her— the swirling energy within rippled just slightly and changed its course within. 

"How can you guess?"  She felt dumb, like it was supposed to jump at her immediately. When it didn't and stagnantly rested in her hands— she grew nervous. 

"Give it a little squeeze." Zack prompted, gloved hands finding purchase on his waist. She looked at him apprehensively for a moment before enclosing her hand around it and tightened her grip. 

The hue grew richer, brighter, and the Materia itself began to get warm. She squeezed it harder, feeling an intense warmth overcome her hand and delicately lap at her forearm. The warmth cascaded over her as well as a jolt of something intense, something that she could only define as energy. It caused her heart to skip a beat before palpitating at a quicker pace— like she were to see a love interest, or a romantic scene in a movie. 

"Fire," she nearly whispered, eyes fixated on the glowing orb. "Are you sure I'm allowed to hold this?" It felt illegal, as if he were tapping into the SOLDIERs hidden database and handing it off to her. And the words, as soon as they left her lips— felt dumb. She knew before Zack could even respond that there was nothing wrong with her possessing her own Materia— let alone holding some. Of course taking the company's Materia was off the table. But Materia was widely sold across Midgar— not SOLDIER exclusive. 

"You can hold it. Hell you can use it if you want. But I recommend having some training on that first. Wouldn't want you to sear your skin off." He grinned. "And yeah, that's fire alright." 

"It's... Really cool— I mean it's hot, but like cool." She got flustered when Zack laughed— her words failing her once again. She never had trouble with words until stepping foot on floor 49. There must have been a gas leak. 

The thought of mass excavating large portions of Mako from the Earth's life force made her stomach clench with an uneasy feeling— but it was pilfered when touching that raw power with her own skin. "It's pretty cool, I agree. Want to see it in action?" His hand slowly moved up and waited for her to deposit it back into his ownership. And it was strange— how the glowing orb seemed to grow on her, the idea of giving it up made a twinge of sadness ripple through her chest. 

Not allowing that feeling to consume her, she gently placed it back into his palm. "It's crazy you've never seen Materia before. Even I did as a kid—"

The lingering warmth wavered in her arm for a few moments and as it dispelled the touch was forgotten. "I have seen it. Just not up close." She admitted, still holding some of her cards close to her chest. 

"You should change that, try and get some Materia sometime. Angeal will teach you how to use it!" Zack turned towards the glass door that lead to the training room. He tapped on a monitor next to it, waking it up. 

"Weird how I can get Materia from a random shop, but you have to earn yours." There had to of been a reason behind it, but from her standpoint, there wasn't one. Zack scoffed as his tapping activated the door to open. He gestured her to follow him inside. 

"Because SOLDIERs Materia is a grade A Materia and holds a ton of power. The  Materia manufactured for civilian use is tame and safe. The Ratio of Mako and the chosen Element is different. At least that's what I remember learning." Zack seemed pretty sure with his explanation and she had zero grounds to question him. "It used to be a bit different a while ago, but there was a thief problem and they cut distribution of the heavy stuff. I guess, from what Angeal has mentioned— they used to sell good quality Materia in different cities."

The training room was huge, his voice echoing off the expanse of it all. It felt very strange being in a room like this one, she felt out of place. The walls were high, and aimed to eat her up. The ceilings saw power and strength from SOLDIERs sent off to battle unknown forces. And yet here she stood, a secretary in pumps that were a little too tight. She didn't let the ominous feeling end Zack's thought however, and she smiled. 

"Thieves—" the word fell with a sigh, folding her hands behind her back, eyes looking at everywhere except for him. "If it weren't for them, I wouldn't know what Materia is." 

"Huh?" Zack whipped around to look at her. 

She glanced up at his wide eyes and grinned. "Show me what this Material can do." She offered up enough of her past to feel satisfied, and glanced at the glowing orb in his hand. In turn, he blinked, clearly piecing together the mosaic of her words. It took a moment for the new ones to register and he nodded. "Right. Stand behind me, I'd hate to pay Hojo a visit." That idea brought chills up her spine, and obediently she complied. 

"First," Zack tossed the Materia in the air and caught it with his left hand. "I like to either hold it in my non-dominant hand, or I place it anywhere on my body. Some weapons have a place for them, mine doesn't." He showed her the Materia. "Anyway—" he looked forward. "I try to channel the energy. Kinda like quietly whispering to it. I can feel it go through my body and form anywhere that I choose. I'll use my right hand." He outstretched his hand. "Then I kinda just.... Launch it." Suddenly the room filled with heat, as if she were sitting a little too close to a bonfire. 

The heat wavered the air, kissed her cheeks, chin and nose. And with a sudden burst of light, a ball of fire came bursting from Zack's palm. It cut through the air before hitting a target she never noticed before. The wooden target was engulfed in a fury of flames. The wood crackling, snapping and complying to the unforgiving fire. 

She was awestruck. 

"There ya have it! Fire Materia." His hand went on his hip and he grinned at the target, flames slowly dying as its fuel diminished. 

"Wow. That was..." The ability to speak was far beyond her. The light from the fireball left discoloration in her vision. "That was awesome, Zack." 

"Thanks! That's where practice gets ya." Pride began to burst from his chest, a large toothy grin grew on his face.  

She smiled and stepped forward to get a closer look at the charred target. "Does Materia get stronger than that?" Curiosity clung to her mind, and the little heat that the target had anchored her in place. 

"Oh yeah, way stronger. There is Fira, then Firaga. The more you use the Materia, the quicker it bonds to you and grows."

"Bonds to you?" She turned in question. 

He nodded. "Mhm. Weird, I know." 

Zack walked with her to the elevator, prattling away about the different kinds of Materia and what they were all capable of doing. Green was usually elemental, yellow was combat enhancements, purple was for status boosts, and blue Materia was Support Materia. 

"Then what is Red Materia?" Clarisse questioned as she jabbed the call button, hugging her bag close to her. 

The look on Zack's face seemed to fall indifferently, she could almost call it shock, but it wasn't colorful enough to fully deem that. "That's summon Materia. I've never used it before, I've only heard the Firsts have access. It's incredibly strong. And can be very dangerous."

"Really?" She blinked a few times before glancing at the floor. "Not meant for the public then, I assume." 

"No way." There was certainty in his tone. "Wait, earlier you said that thieves were the only way you knew about Materia." 

She met his eyes and smiled mischievously. "Not everyone grew up in the warm, secluded town of Gongaga, Zack." 

The Second blinked with a bit of confusion— "Wait, where did you grow up?" The elevator doors hissed open and she slowly got on. 

"Beneath the plate," she smiled weakly. "Congratulations again Zack. When you get more or a different one— I wanna watch you test it."

Zack swallowed her words greedily and nodded with a smile. "Sure! Then you can tell me more about these thieves." The elevator began to close, but just before she stated with a smile—

"Sure thing."

Red Materia was powerful, she knew that by the way her father held it in his hands with pride. From the crack in her bedroom door, she watched onlookers marvel at it's size, gasp about it's color. After the gawk-fest, fighting would wake her up. The next room over exploding with shouts and crashing of furniture. She was quick to shuffle out of her sheets, tiny legs carrying her to the closet. If she placed her ear just right on the drywall, she could hear everything.  But that particular evening, she only heard her father cussing and her mother crying. 

The rain didn't let up until she was secure in her apartment, peeling off her thin jacket. She could almost laugh at how ill timed that was— but she was too damp and cold to conjure up emotions about it. A warm shower stole the clamminess from her skin, replacing it with a glowing warmth she never wanted to leave. It reminded her of Zack's Materia— how the heat came in waves through her hand to her forearm. It was comforting— despite knowing how damaging it could be. 

Fresh sweat pants and a tank top were the perfect replacement for a pencil skirt and a pink blouse. She was thankful to be in them, curled up on the couch and flipping through channels until she found a show satisfying enough to eat to. 

She was just getting ready to fish some hot microwaveable dinner into her mouth when her phone began to ring. She muted the TV and glanced at the caller ID with a sigh. A smile lifted to her face as she picked up the phone and answered. "Hey Em," she pinched the phone between her ear and shoulder. 

"Hey Claire! I was afraid you were dead, it's been too long since we've talked last."

That exaggeration had always seemed to make Clarisse smile. They had been friends for almost a lifetime— practically growing up together. They were thick as thieves, one would say. "We talked last week, dork." The dinner was hot, making her yelp and nearly spill it all over her lap and couch. 

"Careful, dumbass. That's hot." Emily smirked. 

"You watching me? Quit being creepy."

"I've been out here all night, you didn't notice?" Em's sarcastic tone was refreshing— especially after spending half the day under the watchful gaze of the caged beast who ruled her mercilessly.

"Must be cold and wet. Too bad I won't let you inside." Clarisse tossed the hot food on the coffee table and lounged back on her couch. 

"You're a bitch. But whatever, I don't need you." Em giggled. "By the way—" Her attitude changed almost like a flip of a coin. "Did you see that new commercial?! Sephiroth is in it! Holy shit Claire he is too much! I'm so giddy it's crazy!" 

Clarisse rolled her eyes, a familiar annoyance returning to her face. Prime example why that man was the worst. Her best friend was OBSESSED with him. Him and all the other Firsts. She was a part of every Fanclub, had posters of them— it was over the top. "I haven't seen it. What is he taking over now?" 

"Uh! Cologne. Dude if you even watch two seconds of this commercial, I promise that the little hatred that you have will be gone instantly." Em could hardly keep up with her own words. 

Clarisse couldn't ignore the way her heart partly fell at her friend's exclamation. The knowledge that Sephiroth was completely against that commercial gave it a haunting perspective. Even though he claimed it was 'fine' and he was 'used to the treatment' didn't make it settle with her any better. Did Claire dare to speak any words about her sudden affiliation with the SOLDIER department? Hell no. It would branch into utter chaos, and despite her deep love for her best friend— she needed to keep her job. Unleashing her onto floor 49 would mean disaster. 

A thousand SOLDIERs would have nothing against Emily.

She swallowed the urge to speak of her recent discovery,  and rolled her eyes. "I doubt that." Clarisse sounded as she always did— dry, unmoving, and unconvinced. 

"I don't get you." Emily groaned. "You hate them because of war— the war is for a good cause, helping the world. And, you can't even admit that objectively Sephiroth, Angeal and Genesis are hot."

Clarisse objectively believed that they had their own charms, but refused to admire them. Even despite her constant run ins with Sephiroth. She didn't want to budge from her spot— and never would she admit it to anyone— Sephiroth was becoming tougher to continue to hate. 

Regardless— she still hated him.

"I guess I'm just not into bulky, war heroes. All muscle and no brains." That statement felt wrong coming off of her tongue— it wasn't fully true. 

"You just have a bad taste in men," Em concluded, and she slowly changed the subject towards her crazy day at the accounting office— there was never ending tea looking to be spilled. 

And during the long haul of her best friends story/rant— her muted TV began to flash images of Sephiroth. Draped in a dark lighting, the light of the camera was dim and reflected off of his perfectly sculpted body. He was standing in front of a stream of glistening water, in what appeared to be a shower; steam clinging to the glass door. Water droplets beaded against his pecks, pouring like rivers down the valleys etched in his back muscles.

 Clean, smooth, silver hair clung to his neck, bangs slicked back revealing the sharpness of his jaw. The water droplets cradled in his eyelashes, and trickled over his mouth. And slowly he tilted his head forward, droplets falling from his parted lips and tip of his nose. His large, vein raised hand pressed hard against the white wall of the shower propping him up. 

He slowly opened his eyes, turning his gaze towards her. Bright blue green cat-like irises gazed right into her soul, peering just past thick eyelashes. 

A sudden droplet of spit hit hard at her windpipe, forcing her into a violent coughing fit. She had lost complete touch with her own body, swallowing and breathing at the same time. Was her body trying to kill her? Red flooded to her cheeks as she rolled off of the couch, coughing heavily with tears springing to her eyes. 

"No need to go and die!" Em's voice was muffled by the blood rushing through Clarisse's head. 

Water hardly helped the situation, the tickle still remained. Her eyes glanced at the TV, only to be met with produce and a family grocery shopping. She gripped hard at the glass of water and took deep gulps. 

"You good? Damn!" Em's voice was still quiet over the beating in Clarisse's chest. 

The coughing fit died a few moments later, and Emily continued her story. Unfortunately, it fell on deaf ears— Clarisse holding her head in her hand trying to calm her nerves. 

Regardless— she still hated him... Right?