fic: eir's tomorrow (ff7) - ch.16

[jukeboxhound]

Eir's Tomorrow
Chapter 16

Author: jukeboxhound 
Co-conspirator/beta: artimusdin

FF7 || R || Sephiroth/Cloud || chapter: 7,500 words
The Planet isn't willing to let death take away its greatest weapon. If Cloud can't save the past, then he'll be damned to watch history repeat itself.



16.

"You look upset," Cloud observed.

Understatement. But the first thing that came out of Sephiroth's mouth was, "I almost fucked you." Subtlety, meet brick wall, he thought to himself.

"I think it was more the other way around," Cloud replied softly. He frowned. "Maybe. I'm not sure."

"…You don't remember?"

"Maybe. No. I don't know."

"Cloud, I almost hurt you," Sephiroth stressed, nauseous.

Cloud shrugged, but didn't meet his eyes. "But you didn't, and I think it. It might've happened before. At the Honeybee Inn, when Tifa got kidnapped. I'm not sure, I blacked out, but it happens to a lot of people."

"And that makes it acceptable?"

"Of course not," Cloud snapped.

"So it's only acceptable when it happens to you?"

"No," he said, except Sephiroth heard it as a yes, "but it's…just a body. I don't spend much time in it anyway."

Cloud seemed to curl in on himself without actually moving. Sephiroth's first reaction was to sneer, to say that woman in the bar was right; you have either an incredible martyr complex or just hate yourself that much, and at this point I'm not entirely certain there's much of a difference. It was something Genesis would say and he bit back the bitterness, very deliberately placing his hands on his knees and taking a deep breath. Cloud was deep but not an especially complicated man, once certain basic premises were understood.

"You once asked me about sex," Cloud said quietly, picking at the knee of his jeans. "It scared me when I saw one of the assistants looking at you like that."

It made Sephiroth wonder how there could be such people in the world when there were also ones like Cloud and Zack. Some were monsters, and some were angels, and somehow all of them were human. "What did you do," he said, knew it wasn't a question of if but what.

"I killed him. It wasn't difficult, everyone has a piece of the Lifestream inside them. I can hear it and I. I can silence it." Cloud suddenly blinked a few times and tilted his head confusedly at Sephiroth. "What're you doing here?"

Sephiroth's breath hitched. "We were talking, Cloud," he replied slowly.

"…Oh. I'm…sorry." Confused look. Hand pressed to the temple. He remembered when Cloud used to lay on his bedroom floorboards and listen to the wood, or the flash of terror just before the Planet forcibly pulled him away. Everything could be reduced to biology, physics, and mathematics, Sephiroth believed, but more than that was logic. The absurdity of reincarnation, and yet. Time wasn't as incontrovertible as most people believed, the mind could be as powerful as the physical world, and men would fight tooth and nail just to be able to have a choice in their fate.

"Cloud…what is this?" He gestured at the flowers and the white horizon.

"The Lifestream. I've been here before, but they always throw me back out."

"No, I mean…were those your memories? Why was I seeing them? What was the point?"

"I don't know." Cloud pulled his other leg up to his chest and wrapped his arms around both knees.

Sitting very still, he asked, "Are you doing this?"

"I don't know! Hel, Sephiroth, I don't know. I don't know what to think."

As he took another long breath, he noticed a subtle noise that seemed to come from below their feet, and the longer he listened the more certain he was that it was the Planet.

The Calamity. One of the Fallen Ones. Enemy.

Cloud's head jerked and he said fiercely, "No. I told you, he's not the enemy."

A mother wolf protecting her pups. Family. The WEAPONs. Protection.

"I told you not to touch him!"

Sephiroth flinched as the Lifestream around them seemed to contract, as though the air suddenly discovered more gravity while the earth lost some of it, and Cloud grunted in pain. Getting to his feet, Sephiroth started pacing in a wide circle, eyes narrowed at the flowers and wishing sorely that he had the Masamune in his hand.

"Tell the Planet to let you stay here," he said flatly, "tell it to just leave you alone."

"You've said that before," whispered Cloud distantly. "When you were little. You never cried when you were little."

"If you won't say it, Cloud, then I will."

"You said that, too. It scared me."

Sephiroth continued pacing around both chairs, feeling like that cat in the box caught between two possible fates. "What do you want, Cloud?"

"I've done this before."

"…What?"

Then Sephiroth had a flash of that dream-like knowledge: Cloud as little more than mindless puppet, washing ashore in Mideel in a mako coma from which Tifa had to pull him.

Cloud said quietly, "I don't…I don't know what to do."

Sephiroth examined him from a distance, ignoring the way Cloud flinched under such scrutiny. "Sometimes," he admitted slowly, "when I am confused, I pretend that another person is in my situation and that I am the observer. It provides context."

Cloud shifted in his chair again, glanced off to the side, tilted his head as though listening to the Planet. He looked like a young man that had been hunted all his life, self-conscious, often lost in thought and dreaming of things being different.

"I think that I, that I would like to be alone for a little while."

No, was the general's immediate thought. Tell me what's going to happen. Don't run away. But all he said was, "If that's what you want."

…

Sephiroth woke up. He was half sprawled over Cloud, pinning him down. For a long moment he didn't think of anything, just felt the softness of the sheets, the warmth of Cloud's body, the faint but steady beat of both their hearts. A window was still open; he could feel a slightly humid breeze with the scent of ocean salt and flowers. The room was silent.

Raising himself up on his elbows, he stared down at the blond. There were no wings, no feathers, just two exhausted men in a room he didn't recognize and a self-awareness he hadn't felt for a long while now. When he sat up, every muscle protested sorely, making him wince and run a tired hand through the tangle of his long hair. There were still red marks down his chest from Cloud's nails and his bottom lip was crusted with a little blood from…well, from one of them, he wasn't really sure. Sixteen years old and he'd had thoughts like that sometimes, about Cloud, or at least how he remembered Cloud and the security and the. Well. Not love, maybe. But something close to it.

He needed a shower and a damn hairbrush. Standing up was an interesting experience. His balance wavered, nearly sending him through a sliding rice-paper panel. Wait. Rice-paper?

Wutai?

He found his coat neatly folded on top of a beautifully enameled dresser, his boots tucked neatly underneath. He ignored both and pulled on a short cotton happi, faded from black to a soft grey with wear, over his leather pants, and with one last glance at Cloud he padded barefoot from the room. As a wordless peace offering, against all his common sense, he left the Masamune behind.

Sephiroth listened carefully as he wandered down the hallway. He sensed someone, several someones, just before he found the restroom, and with careful casualty he slid the door closed and shucked off his clothes. His mind was scraped raw but his body had taken the chance of two days' rest to heal from the battle with the WEAPON, and the hot water was a miracle balm.

Showered and brushed with a bone comb he'd found on a shelf, he opened the door and found himself staring back at three very stern Wutaian men in military garb.

"General," the one in front, a captain to judge by the colors of his sash, said neutrally. Sephiroth arched a brow silently and allowed himself to be escorted down a second hallway, one man in front and the other two behind, to a wide reception room that was uncomfortably familiar. Godo sat on the far side of a long, low table, and if there weren't any treaties or conditions of surrender on it, the gesture was clear enough. "My only solace from now on will be in the hope that, one day, the great General of ShinRa knows what it is like to lose everything he loves," he'd proclaimed. "The hope that he will look to Wutai and see its ravaged country as a mirror to his heart."

"Lord Godo," he acknowledged without inflection.

"ShinRa General Sephiroth." His tone of voice was inscrutable. He very obviously didn't ask Sephiroth to sit down, leaving him standing in the midst of soldiers. "I wonder, General, have you known heartbreak?"

He thought of the last fifteen years of his life. "I thought I had," he said. "But that means I can only go forward now."

The gazes of the general and the emperor met over the bare table for a long, heavy silence. Godo spoke first. "The only reason I have allowed any of you to step foot on my land is for the sake of my daughter. I received a call from one of ShinRa's directors asking me to take you in, and the things he told me were corroborated by my daughter and by our own scientists. If it's true that this Cloud Strife is essential to defeating these WEAPONs, as you call them, then I will show him hospitality.

"But you no longer command an army. The moment you so much as look at one of my people the wrong way, ShinRa General, the Four Gods will destroy you."

Sephiroth nodded once. Godo watched him for a moment longer, then continued, "Your lieutenant is trying to make contact with your capital. You may join him, or you may return to your room."

Restricted movement, then, rather than outright imprisonment. The subjugation rankled something deep inside of Sephiroth, but he just nodded again and didn't fight when he was unceremoniously guided out of the room, told himself he should just be glad that the meeting was so brief.

He was led into another room with a low table on which Zack was sitting, legs crossed, stabbing irritably at a PHS while Nanaki fiddled with a second one. A Wutaian soldier was already standing in one corner of the room with a hand openly resting on the end of a katana.

"This fucking useless thing - "

"Lieutenant?"

" - swear to the gods I will take you out back and shoot you - "

"Zack."

" - and maybe I'll shoot you anyway for making me cuss in front of a superior officer in public. Yes, sir?" Zack saluted.

"At ease."

"Thank you, sir."

"Lieutenant, if I may, I would like a word with you."

Zack eyed him carefully, Sephiroth keeping his face impassive, and he shrugged, tossing the PHS onto the table. He followed the general into the corridor for some semblance of privacy.

"Lieutenant," Sephiroth started, then, "no. Zack. Zack, I wish to apologize to you."

"Uh."

"I would like to say that I'm not normally like this," said Sephiroth formally, "but in truth I've been acting irrational for a very long time. And I must apologize for the weight it has placed on your shoulders."

Zack did a rather good impression of a goldfish.

"You have been acting as more of a commander than I. I…do not know the current situation in ShinRa, but if I have retained any power of my rank, I wish to promote you to SOLDIER First."

"No offense, sir, but what the hell? Where did this come from? When?"

"About five minutes ago," Sephiroth admitted, thinking when you make a decision, follow through, "but that doesn't make it any less sincere, nor any less deserved."

"Uh. Does this mean I'd have to get the same mako showers? Because no offense again, sir, but I'd rather stay a Second if that's the case."

"No. And stop calling me 'sir.' And, Zack? Take the time to consider it. You have a choice."

"…I will. And, er. Not to change the subject, but if you're awake, where's Cloud?"

"Still unconscious." Sephiroth said nothing of what had happened between them, physically or mentally, holding the hurt and confusion close inside. "And I wish to also apologize for my behavior concerning him."

"Sephiroth, again, no offense, but please stop talking." The general twitched hard enough to make the Wutaian soldiers start reaching for weapons, and Zack hurried on, "You don't have to apologize for anything. I know that there are things about you and Angeal and, uh, Genesis that can't be explained to anyone else, and I know that Cloud's at least partly the same way, and I think that whatever's going on is fucked up enough to really mess with you."

But there was a difference between having a reason and having an excuse. There was no right answer but a line had to be drawn somewhere, and Sephiroth had lived too much of his life passively. He hadn't fought Hojo's control, not really, only would've left ShinRa if Genesis or Angeal had asked, and now that Cloud was incapacitated there was no one else, save Zack to some extent, that had any real idea of what was going on. He'd won a war but didn't know the first step in understanding himself, and that, that was what Jenova must've promised him in that other lifetime. Another purpose, continued obedience, just more of the same, and while there was comfort in that there was also the weakness of self-delusion.

("A swordsman is, above all else, honest with himself. That means admitting you're afraid, Sephiroth. But a swordsman is also practical.")

"Sephiroth," Zack said gently. "Talk."

"Cloud needs medical attention. It was wrong of me to deny him that." Honesty. Practicality. "How long have we been here?"

"This is the third day, now."

"Have you gotten a hold of Reeve?"

"No," Zack growled in frustration, running a hand through his hair and glancing back into the room where Nanaki seemed to be getting nowhere with the phones. "We've gotten through to Cid just fine way over in the hangar, so it's not the PHS, but it's like there's a blackout over Midgar. Tried calling one of my buddies, Kunsel, but that's not getting through either."

"Is it a WEAPON?"

"Seems most likely, doesn't it? Although how the hell it's managing that, I have no idea." Zack threw his arms in the air, not caring that it made the Wutaian soldiers scowl. "Best I can figure, some of us should stay with Cloud while the rest take the Highwind over to Midgar, see what the hell's going on." When Sephiroth hesitated, Zack grinned lopsidedly. "No one will hold it against you if you stay here."

"There's already a very limited number of people able to deal with this kind of situation."

"Yeah, but if you're there worrying over Cloud, and if Cloud wakes up in gods know what kind of state here, neither of you will be much good for anything."

"And you, Zack?"

"Well, someone's got to do it, right?"

"Stay here, Zack," Sephiroth told him firmly. "Send Angeal."

"Sephiroth, you do realize that sending Angeal out to fight right now would turn it into some kind of suicide mission of honor, right?"

"I've known the man since I was ten years old, Major. Yes, I know."

"Then what're you…wait, what was that?"

"Field promotion. It seemed appropriate since about two minutes ago, but, of course, that is no reflection on the truth of your merits. And I reiterate that it's contingent on whatever power I still retain."

Zack looked torn between being dazed and about to hit him.

"But in regards to Angeal, whatever may result is his decision, whether he dies slowly doing nothing or in battle doing something useful." Cold. But nevertheless true. "Appeal to his honor, then, or what's left of it. Major."

Though obviously reeling, Zack's lips quirked in a way that shouldn't have been so bitter. "We'll figure it out. Oh, Elena's woken up, thank the gods, turns out that she managed to save some of Hojo's notes. I guess she stuffed them under her jacket before the fire broke out."

"A true Turk," Sephiroth said dryly, and Zack snorted.

"I'm hoping they might have some explanation on how the hell Cloud got to be physically older than me or where the wings - well, I guess you guys have wings too, but still.

"Go see Cloud," Sephiroth half-smiled. "I will stay with this Nanaki."

"I…yeah, all right."

…

The man was naked.

He wondered why he wasn't cold; he knew very well what happened to people who didn't dress properly in icy mountain ranges. He looked down at his own body, disinterestedly examining the way his arms ended with hands, the way his torso tapered down at the waist and went on to two legs. Huh. He remembered some scientists talking about this thing called evolution, about how after thousands and thousands of years some of the apes became human (hydrophobic lipids mitochondrial symbiosis alleles mitosis), but he couldn't remember where he'd heard them. Wasn't that important anyway.

Was he supposed to have hands?

The heavy weight on his back turned out to be two wings. Were humans supposed to have wings?

He could hear the stars singing.

He could hear the discordant notes underneath the harmony, just a few little mistakes but soon they'd start to add up. Human souls whispered, but the stars were singing.

There was something he was supposed to do. Something…about the number three. He was number four, but what were the other three? Three what?

Family, said a voice as deep and old as the icy mountains. Packmates. The animal instinct to protect one's own.

Oh. That made sense. Somehow. He wondered what his name was. Wasn't he just talking to someone? Someone who had two hands and two legs too?

WEAPON, said the deep voice. The swiftness of a bird's flight.

That…didn't feel right. Didn't make sense the way packmate did. The man didn't think he wanted to be a WEAPON.

The relativity of events.

Can I go back to my packmates? the man asked.

No.

Well, thought the man, that's not very nice. Please?

The deep voice's timbre dropped a few levels, which made the nearest stars a little nervous. The relativity of events. Catastrophe. Genocide. Death.

You know what's going to happen before it happens? That's interesting, said the man, even though he wasn't really sure what time was or why different entities all understood it in a different way. He remembered someone saying that time was linear, but the deep voice seemed to disagree, said that time was like a big circle with a bunch of little circles in the middle. Little lives like humans wolves monkeys insects monsters plants trees didn't know that. Only the stars, and only the planets, could see time like it really was.

Am I a planet too, then? asked the man.

No. WEAPON.

I don't like the sound of that.

Protecting one's own. Packmates. Death. Oblivion.

The man thought hard. So if I'm not a WEAPON, then my packmates will die?

Yes.

But the pain never goes away. Never ever ever stops.

The deep voice understood pain. It had felt it in every living thing that crawled over its surface, had felt it when machines bored into its flesh to bleed it out. Souls, it said. Transcending the physical body. Lifestream.

So if I'm a WEAPON, does that mean I could join the Lifestream too?

No answer.

What happens if I say no?

A barrage of images struck the man in painfully vivid color and earsplitting sound. He saw a woman die with a sword through her back, another man slaughtered by gunfire, a third dead by his own sword not once but three times. He saw the dead come back to half-life and the sky turn into fire.

…Are they worth it?

Animal instinct. The attraction between mates. The protectiveness of an alpha over its pack. The drive to push on even with the knowledge of certain death.

Then I choose life.

Who am I?

Cloud.

…

After the bruises and abrasions that hadn't yet healed were taken care of, Aeris went to visit with a Wutaian healer while Zack sat on the edge of the bed and stared at Cloud.

"You're one hell of a force of nature, kiddo, you know that?" He ran a hand through yellow bangs, amused despite himself at the way the spikes sprang back into place. Kicking off his boots, Zack scooted back on the bed and lay down on his side, facing Cloud, wondering how the blond could look like he was really just sleeping after…all that. If he let his mind wander, he thought he could feel a soft humming, as though he could literally hear Cloud dreaming, and if he could hear that, what must've it been like for Sephiroth?

"When this is over, you and me and Sephiroth and Aeris are going to sit on the sofa with ice cream, and I'll make you guys watch the worst movies ever," he whispered, didn't know he was echoing his girlfriend. "Sephiroth'll get that forced stoic look and you'll probably hit me with something, but it'll be okay."

He could see the slightest glow from behind Cloud's eyelids. He listened to the sound of a fountain from some garden outside, the quiet murmur of female voices, Cloud's slow, nearly inaudible breathing. The anxiety was still a little too strong for him to relax, kept thinking I need to talk to Angeal, need to talk to Elena, need Sephiroth's help to figure out what Hojo did. He picked up Cloud's right hand idly, stroking a thumb over the circular scar left by the teeth of a wolf pup, and muttered, "See, if Sephiroth had gotten that Chocobo Lure materia like I told him to, it wouldn't have taken us so long to find you."

Cloud didn't wake up to scowl at him indignantly.

"I swear, you need a keeper. I should get Sephiroth to tie you down. Which might be rather awkward, actually, unless you're into that. Though I can't imagine you or Sephiroth being into the whole restriction thing, and wow I'm glad you're not awake to hear me."

Cloud opened his eyes

Gods damn it.

and Zack felt the breath freeze in his lungs. The blond stared back at him, blinking slowly like an owl. Zack distantly realized he was gripping Cloud's hand hard enough to break the bones and had to consciously make himself relax. Cloud looked down at their joined hands, then back up to continue staring, apparently unbothered by the hair falling over his face. After a moment, he pulled back his hand and curled his fists under his chin.

"You look like hell," Zack whispered, grinning like a loon but hardly caring. Cloud's eyes tracked the movement of his lips like someone faced with a strange language. And he did look like hell, wan and strained, stretched thin, and the now-older face had new lines of stress and worry etched into its features. "Blink once for yes, twice for no?"

Cloud just kept staring, and yeah, he was awake now, but Zack was realizing that the blond wasn't awake. Just…there, like a wary animal waiting for someone to make the first move.

"What do I do now, Cloud?" He slowly reached up to stroke Cloud's hair, watching how he got another slow blink and a head tilting away from his touch. "It's been three days, and none of us know how to bring you back."

Zack rather wished Hojo was still alive so that he could take his time killing the asshole all over again. Cloud's eyes had always had that faint shine of mako, but now they glowed as brilliantly as Sephiroth's, the pupils nearly swallowed up by blue-green. Experimentally Zack reached out again, and sure enough Cloud drew his arms closer to his body. "All right, no touching, got it. I'll just keep talking until you tell me to shut up then."

Cloud was watching the movement of his lips again, and while it was somewhat creepy, it was also…sad. There wasn't even any madness in his features, just a frightening sort of blankness as though he were waiting for someone to come along and give him a personality.

"We've all been worried out of our minds. Well, we still are, but hey, at least you're awake now, right?" Zack had to suppress the urge to reach out and reassure himself that Cloud was there, that they'd gotten him out and that there was some hope of reversing the damage done to him. "Elena's awake too. I hear she's been terrorizing the servants in this place." Don't tell him about the deaths.

"…Zack?"

The whisper nearly made Zack start crying with relief. "Yeah, kiddo, it's me."

The blond reached out very, very slowly, obviously prepared to jerk back if the SOLDIER made any sudden moves, and touched his face. He seemed to be familiarizing himself with human features, tracing the curve of brows and nose, the dips at the edge of eyes and cheekbones. Zack couldn't help a wry, "I know I'm handsome, kiddo, but seriously."

Apparently touch was all right if Cloud was the one initiating it as he carefully took Zack's hand. He examined it closely, poking at the lines on the palm and tugging gently on fingers, seemingly fascinated by all the little motions of tendon and muscle. Bemused, Zack held himself still and tried not to yelp with laughter when Cloud managed to prod him in the ribs. When he appeared content that Zack was indeed Zack and not some alien replacement, Cloud unceremoniously curled up against his chest and went back to sleep.

"…All right, then," Zack huffed.

…

Three days ago, the same night that the Highwindtook off for Nibelheim.

Elfé finished wiping down the last table in the Seventh Heaven and dropped the cleaning supplies back into the bucket under the counter. All the glasses were cleaned, the bottles straightened, the cash register emptied and the money safely stowed away. She paused to look around the empty bar, at the weak sunlight that came in through the vaguely-less-grimy-than-usual windows to light up the scuffed floor, and nodded to herself. No more procrastinating.

Her father was in one of the tiny bedrooms situated over the bar itself, sitting on a desk chair and cleaning the barrels of his pistols with familiar ease. The light of the desk lamp picked out the silver in his brown hair and shadowed the deep lines in his face.

"I'm finished," said Elfé, pausing in the doorway, and Veld glanced at her.

"We'll leave tomorrow morning, Elfé. Together."

"Yes, Father."

Veld knew she was lying. His daughter - beautiful, sharp as a dagger and just as dangerous - was too jaded from her time with AVALANCHE, from the Turks that had hunted them all and Rufus ShinRa's machinations, to think she didn't have to work alone. She was wearing the expression of a warrior already prepared for battle, whatever its outcome might be, and it made him wish that he had the power to go back and change things. To make it so that Elfé hadn't grown up with people who saw her as a tool to be used.

On impulse he set aside his firearms and stood up to pull her into a hug. She tensed in surprise, then relaxed.

Later, it was only Veld's Turk training that let him hear Elfé slip out of her room just before dawn. He lay on his back, old and useless and left behind, and couldn't say he was really surprised.

Elfé could hear an airship taking off overhead as she walked out of Midgar through the large gates, leaving several unconscious guards behind her. A hand was curled loosely over the hilt of the katana at her side as she strode unhurriedly out towards the silhouette lumbering closer to the city, her other hand beginning to ache where a hard lump of materia was still grafted under the skin. After AVALANCHE's leader had tried to destroy all the life on the Planet the experimental materia had never worked the same again, but she could still use it to shield, and make her stronger, and maybe it would be enough.

At the rate it was moving, Diamond WEAPON wouldn't reach the city for another few hours. Elfé sat on a boulder to wait, absently cracking her knuckles as the fragment of the Zirconiade Summons started making the tendons of her hand feel hot. As the time ticked past and the WEAPON came closer, she realized just how enormous it was; pearly white as the inside of a seashell, glittering in the sun, and as broad and solid as a granite mountainside.

There are rumors that when the Calamity first fell, the Planet created these warriors to defend itself, one of AVALANCHE's scientists had told her. When the Cetra managed to contain Her, the Planet put the WEAPONs to sleep, keeping them until they would be needed against another global threat.

What are they made of? she'd asked.

Anger. Self-preservation. They're forces of nature, Elfé. They have no other purpose but to protect the Planet at all costs.

Can they be convinced to protect something else? If we could get one on AVALANCHE's side…

Don't be ridiculous.

Elfé half-closed her eyes and leaned back on her hands, breathing in the dry air of the plains already warm from the sun. She regretted having lied to her father, but she wasn't under any illusions; she would take down the Diamond WEAPON, but she wouldn't be walking away from the battlefield. No parent should ever have to see their child die.

…

Rufus was having something of a bad day.

It had started out well enough. When Tseng had informed him of his father's assassination, it had been a little sooner than expected, but nothing to truly worry about. He'd immediately ordered silence on the matter and, as planned, sent Tseng away with his orders before holding a meeting with the department heads. Heidegger, Palmer, and Scarlet vied for 'most grief-stricken and sympathetic.' Reeve was blinking in mute surprise, and Lazard…Rufus narrowed his eyes. Lazard looked introspective.

"And you say it was Sephiroth who did this?" Palmer demanded, canting a sly look at Lazard.

"The wound that killed the late President was almost certainly delivered by the Masamune," Rufus said calmly, "although in these troubled times we cannot rule out an impostor."

"If you'll forgive my saying, sir, how does one fake being General Sephiroth?"

A fair point, Rufus admitted to himself. "My father was unable to find a viable solution concerning the rebel problem before his death, and so it's not inconceivable that these same rebels may be responsible."

"These people are nothing," Heidegger snorted. "Thieves and homeless, not to mention the Wutaians! Vice President, expecting them to have the organization necessary for something like this is like expecting the rats to start studying the scientists."

Predictably Reeve's lips thinned, but Rufus was the only one to notice. He said mildly, "But even rats can spread the disease that kills the scientists. It would be best, therefore, to hold my inauguration as soon as possible, to make this transition smooth and prevent further unrest."

And how satisfying it was to see the expressions on Palmer, Heidegger, and Scarlet's faces, the three who were most conniving and had the most to lose. Particularly the two men, both of whom had been woefully unsubtle in their bids for the Presidency these last few years. It was almost embarrassing, their utter lack of political acumen.

"Holding the inauguration in Midgar would only be begging for another assassination," said Reeve, rather dryly. "Junon may be a better choice."

"Yes," Heidegger jumped in, "the dangers alone - perhaps it would be better to wait - what of Sephiroth, after all? It might attract his attention - "

"If General Sephiroth had meant to kill me, Heidegger, then I imagine I would've been dead before I ever realized there was a threat."

"Nevertheless, it may be safer to elect someone less important. Let him take the office as bait for any assassins, just long enough for the danger to pass, of course - "

"And would you elect yourself for the job, Heidegger?" Rufus purred.

"I have only your best interests in mind, Vice President," Heidegger replied stiffly. Rufus felt like the cat that had caught its prey, content to amusedly watch it struggle. Now, perhaps, he might be able to build Midgar into what it should've been all along: a true city of technology and progression, with the people both above and below the Plate elevated to a more equal status to demonstrate Rufus' own benevolence. It was better to rule with the awe and worship of subjects rather than with the fear and resentment of his father. Midgar would become the next City of the Ancients, with the loyalty of his Turks and the debt of AVALANCHE behind him.

"It seems to me that we're not looking at the true culprit. What do you have to say, SOLDIER Director?" asked Scarlet sweetly.

"Sephiroth's loyalty isn't something that can be bought. If it wasn't to ShinRa, then there's nothing anyone could've done," he replied simply.

"That may be right, but you never heard a whisper? Never once suspected that Sephiroth would turn on us like this? It's enough to make one wonder what exactly goes on in your department, Director."

Despite being accused of what amounted to treason, Lazard looked utterly calm. Which meant that he'd expected this attack and had already planned for it or he had some other plan entirely, and Rufus wasn't sure which. "If you wish, I'll convene another meeting for Sephiroth's return. Currently he's in Mideel taking care of one of the WEAPONs."

"Sephiroth's distraction is another reason for us to go forward," Rufus said. "Scarlet, Reeve, I would like you two to evaluate Junon as the site of my inauguration - space, population, the works. Heidegger, Palmer, you will take care of security, I presume? After all, you are the directors of the Turks and the peacekeeping forces and so are most well-suited to such an important task."

Reeve and Scarlet agreed, as did Palmer, though not without obvious ill grace. Heidegger opened his mouth and Rufus gave him a lazy look, daring him to say something, and the man backed down. "Of course, Vice President."

The meeting went on well into the morning. Security for Rufus' inauguration was discussed, as well as the situation under the Plate.

"Some of the supply warehouses in Sector Two have been raided," Reeve reported. "Troopers and a number of SOLDIERs have been dispatched to the area, but I'm honestly not sure how much good that'll do."

"Surely you're not suggesting that a bunch of refugees can take on SOLDIERs?" Scarlet sneered.

"Not directly, but these people have fought a war."

"And lost."

"And have nothing else to lose," Reeve finished determinedly. "They managed to get the drop on a talented Turk, too. These are not people to be underestimated."

"What would you suggest?" Rufus asked, honestly curious. Reeve Tuesti wasn't known for speaking up at directors' meetings, after all, and the Turks had never been able to figure out the man's true ambitions under that placid exterior.

"Diplomacy," was the immediate answer. "ShinRa needs to demonstrate its goodwill if it's to retain any sort of power. The only thing keeping the company safe is the people's reliance on mako energy, but I have no doubt that they've already begun looking for alternative resources. The presence of SOLDIERs in the wake of the earthquakes is the sort of thing the company should continue - food, makeshift shelters, all the medical personnel we can spare. Jobs can be provided through reconstruction, which would benefit both ShinRa and the people."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you have a certain fondness for these people," Palmer laughed, but his beady eyes were sharp.

"There's a kernel of common sense in what he's saying," Rufus said in a rather dry voice.

"The SOLDIERs - "

"Aren't immortal, for all of their power," Lazard interrupted quietly. "Their numbers aren't that great, particularly after the war in Wutai, and especially compared to the populations both above and below the Plate. If the riots became enough to stir more people, it's entirely possible that this Tower can be overrun, and with enormous casualties on both sides."

"Where the hell did all this come from?" Palmer demanded, turning to Heidegger. "You're in charge of the army, how long were you sleeping with your mistress for this to happen?"

"There's no sense in turning on one another." Although, in less serious circumstances, Rufus thought it had the potential to get entertaining. "The fact remains that the people's discontent has reached our front doors at the same time the company has lost all three of its generals and its long-term President."

Thank you, Father, for leaving me to clean up your ineptitude.

And so it went, a line in the sand being drawn with Reeve and Lazard on one side and Palmer, Heidegger, and Scarlet on the other. Rufus sat back in neutral territory, watching for the telltale verbal slips and subtle expressions, playing devil's advocate to both.

Around midmorning, just before noon, the ground beneath their feet rocked with sudden force. Scarlet and Palmer both shrieked as they tumbled to the floor while Reeve sprawled across the conference table. Rufus waited on the floor with a pounding heart for the rolling earth to stop.

"Sir," Reeve started shakily, "I should go to my office, there's something I must check."

After the last earthquakes, seismographs had been set up in the Urban Planning department. "Of course," he panted, "we must discern the real cause of these quakes."

Reeve shot him a suspicious look, but he left as quickly as he could on shaky legs. As soon as he was back in his chair, Rufus was barking, "Palmer, Heidegger, go find the commanders of the Regular army, organize a force to assist the one already under the Plate. Scarlet, evaluate the integrity of the Tower with whatever tools you have in your department, the last thing we need is it collapsing under our feet." After all, it wasn't like Midgar had had to consider earthquakes in their construction plans before.

"Lazard, I want you to - "

"Actually, Vice President, I have an urgent matter to discuss with you concerning SOLDIER."

A few seconds passed before Rufus nodded. "Of course. The rest of you are dismissed."

Not the most politically smooth of phrases, but it got the other three out quickly enough, leaving him with Lazard sitting across the enormous conference table in front. Rufus leaned forward, watching the other man with half-lidded eyes. "Go ahead, Director."

"I'm sorry, little brother," Lazard smiled sadly, "but I can't allow you to continue."

Straight to the point, wasn't he. "…Indeed. Perhaps I was wrong in thinking that Heidegger wanted the presidency the most," but Lazard just shook his head.

"I'd sooner leave the company than accept such a position. It was bittersweet enough to have reached what I have. Royal enough for this position, but not enough to be acknowledged." It must've been a dilemma for the elder ShinRa, not wanting to keep this bastard son but unable to forget that said bastard carried the same blood.

So, yes, Rufus' day was starting to develop that distinct 'should've stayed in bed' feeling. "I wasn't aware that your illegitimacy fell under the heading of 'SOLDIER.' Remind me to review the department guidelines later."

Lazard laughed under his breath before sobering. "The sacrifices being made in our name are too many. I know you've heard that SOLDIER Second Zack Fair was sent to Banora to investigate Genesis' disappearance with Tseng. I intended to promote him to First Class on his return, knowing full well that it would make him a target to both Hojo and Hollander."

"Obviously, you chose not to."

"No. And then he called me just after the earthquakes began. He was in the slums, Rufus, doing what ShinRa should have been doing since its inception."

"Your passion for the people below the Plate is commendable."

(Rufus had an amazing talent for dressing up sarcasm as dignified praise, Lazard thought ruefully.)

"You haven't seen what's been going on below our feet. There were riots. Twenty people are dead, several of them ShinRa troopers, and many more casualties. The recent earthquakes have killed many more and cut off some of the supply lines to the sectors. While I was down there with the SOLDIERs, the children..." Lazard paused. "Even if you don't believe what groups like AVALANCHE are saying about the Lifestream, not even you can deny how much ShinRa has poisoned its own people."

"And what do you plan to do to fix that? Install a board of Wutaians and anarchists? The system is too rooted into people's way of life. The only thing that will change is the names. There has to be a change in people's belief, Lazard, and that takes time. But convince me. Tell me about your grand plan. Tell me how you plan to usher in this new idealistic era."

"Rufus, you tell yourself that you're going to be the benevolent ruler. A president for the people, whose worship will give you the power you want. You're good at making people believe what you want them to, but ShinRa - it has to stop. It's possible I'll achieve nothing, but it's just as possible that these people will all step up to the plate and make the Planet into something truly magnificent."

The sense of foreboding was getting stronger. Rufus kept his face impassive as he let a hand drop, surreptitiously sliding it over the handle of the pistol hidden under his coat. "And what, exactly, do you plan to do?"

In response Lazard drew out a small black cube of plastic and held it delicately between his fingers, as though examining an interesting new piece of technology. "Symbols are powerful things, Rufus. Wutai lasted until the standard of Leviathan fell. ShinRa is no different."

And things had been going so well thus far, Rufus sighed to himself fatalistically. He was developing a pretty good idea of what the man was intending with that innocent little remote; obviously Lazard had felt the need for understanding, for explaining his motives, or else he would've just followed through while all the directors were still distracted with one another. A courtesy because of their shared blood, perhaps, or maybe he was just that sentimental. "A new generation is new hope, Lazard. I'm not our father."

"No, you're not, which is why I truly regret doing this to you."

Just as Lazard pressed the button on the remote, Rufus whipped out the pistol and fired several shots in quick succession. The bullets slammed into Lazard's chest, knocking him sideways in his chair and sending blood arcing across the table, but Rufus could already feel the tremors under his feet, not the shuddering from earthquakes but the deafening, jerking wrench of explosives. Sixty floors.

His last thought was desperate gratitude that his Turks had all been sent away.

…

One theory holds that when a timeline is altered, it will attempt to return to its original course. For example, if a wife dies in a car accident and her husband tries to prevent it, then the self-correction of time means that, albeit in different ways, the wife will always die. Another theory claims that if someone goes back in time, then their actions in the past will have already been accounted for and in fact be an integral influence in the same future from which the person came.

There are a hundred thousand other theories, but whichever one turns out to be true in the end, it seems that there are always be certain key events that happen no matter which alternate universe is created, no matter how many times someone goes back to change things.

For example.

Veld was sitting alone at one of the tables in the bar, turning an empty pint glass around in his hands, when he felt the ground shake. After he was able to stand, he dashed outside with his heart in his throat (the WEAPON survived, it's here, Elfé's gone) and found Sector Seven in utter chaos. Grabbing the arms of the two nearest people, he demanded, "What's going on? Is it another quake?"

"The ShinRa Tower...the Sector reactor, it's having a meltdown..."

"A WEAPON fell - "

"The Plate's starting to collapse!"

chapter 15 || main post || chapter 17