Pater Familias

I respectfully credit all Original Creators, namely Squaresoft, which became SquareEnix,for these characters. In this way, I pay homage to my Fandom's Original Creator, and illustrate my Community's belief that Fan Fiction is "fair use". I do not claim to own these characters. I do not make money or gil from using these protected characters, nor do I wish to make money or gil from them. In other words, I am borrowing these characters to entertain the adult fanfiction community, but I am doing so with the highest degree of respect to the engineers, game designers, music makers, voice actors.



I took her up to my apartment and straight to my bed. She sat down on the edge, looking foggy. Apparently she hadn’t thought of anything for the last thirty minutes, for I hadn’t heard her. Fortunately, Sephiroth and Aerith were asleep now, so she didn’t have to listen to them screw. “Just sleep, my dear,” I told her, using my best sedating voice. I pushed her down and brought the blanket up over her. “You can worry about the odious Mr. Burnside in four hours.”

“M’kay,” she answered me sleepily.

…so nice to me…

I smiled. Of course I was nice to her. She was respectful, beautiful, and scientific. I had no reason not to be nice to her.

I turned the light off and shut the door.

Now, for some fun.

I prepped a pneumatic hypo with concentrated Hypnocol, a triple dose for a normal man but about an average one for Burnside. I then filled a normal syringe with grain alcohol and placed it within easy reach. Turning off the lights, I unlocked the apartment door and crouched beside the hinges. When the door opened it would conceal me.

I didn’t have long to wait. Heavy breathing sounded through the wall. The knob very slowly began to turn. The door eased open at a snail’s pace, letting a crack of light from the hallway illuminate the living room. Burnside’s gigantic shadow fell upon the wall. He slipped in and shut the door.

I took that moment of advantage when his eyes fought to adjust from light to dark, striking out with the Hypnocol. As the plunger filled his system with the disorienting drug, I put him in a head lock and brought him to the floor. He gasped, but I cut off his air with a sharp squeeze. “Mustn’t wake the lady,” I whispered, reaching for the other syringe.

He fainted the moment I took the needle out of his neck.

“What lady?” a voice whispered directly behind us.

I whirled on him, needle clutched like a dagger. “Sephiroth,” I hissed.

Sephiroth jumped back the moment I brought the needle around, his eyes wide. I’d gotten him good a few times that way. Hands up, he abruptly relaxed. “Sorry,” he said lowly. “I felt a vibration down here and came to check on you.” His glowing eyes surveyed Burnside. “He’s a freight train,” he commented.

“He’s pod occupant number two,” I said smugly. “Why don’t you be a good son and take him to the lab for me?”

Sephiroth frowned. “At this hour? Why don’t you call an abduction team to pick him up?”

“Your old secretary eliminated the abduction teams,” I said, stepping on Burnside’s chest to get by him. “Abduction teams are contrary to New Shin-Ra’s image.”

“I see.” Sephiroth looked very disappointed.

“Just take us both,” I said, standing beside him. “I’ll need to get him locked away before Sakura wakes up.”

My son rolled his eyes. He picked up Burnside as if the man weighed no more than a pencil, dropping him to his shoulder. “You’ll have to hang on by yourself, mostly,” he told me.

“Fine.” I got under his arm and clasped my hands around the top of his shoulder. He took a handful of my shirt and we phased out of the building into the thin air outside.

My eyes blurred at the speed we traveled. Amazed anew at my son’s capabilities, I felt quite self-satisfied by the time we reached the interior of Shin-Ra labs. He’d made us only semi-solid, so we set off no alarms. “Is this how you stole the Cetra from me?” I asked as he put us down in my work area.

“Almost,” he answered, smiling. “You shouldn’t fashion creatures capable of defeating you, father.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I keyed in my access code and stood back for the door to open. “Follow me with him, would you?”

Sephiroth obeyed, taking him down to the cells. I opened one. “Toss him in,” I said.

Sephiroth obligingly threw Burnside into the room. “What did this one do, scowl at you? Bad service at lunch?” He walked out and looked at me while I locked the cell down. “Oh, but no, he must be another old attachment of Miss Leijanna’s,” he said.

“He broke into her new apartment and attempted to make off with her,” I said, preceding him back to the main lab.

“Is that where you acquired that lovely bruise on your face?”

“Yes.”

“You attract dangerous women, don’t you, father?”

“There’s no other kind, boy.” I faced him. “You can take us back home now.”

Sephiroth rolled his eyes again. He picked me up, holding me like a child. I struggled. “I prefer the dignity of a fireman’s hold to this,” I complained.

“You’re never happy.” Sephiroth didn’t shift me. “Just be still. I’ll have us back to the apartment in five minutes.”

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And he did. Seven minutes later I was alone and tidying up any sign of Burnside’s entry. I wiped the doorknob off with alcohol, straightened the rug and sank down into the couch. The clock read three thirty. I had to be at work in five and a half hours.

I fell asleep smiling.

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I soaped up my face, staring in the mirror. It wasn’t my imagination. I looked young this morning, almost as young as my son. I picked up the razor and made a few passes down my jaw, looking more at the tight skin on my chest and arms than I did my face. I still had those scars, but they didn’t look as vivid anymore. Jenova’s cells were working overtime to repair and restore me, aided by mako and increased physical activity.

Perhaps I should get Sephiroth to staff fight with me occasionally, just to keep this new fitness. He’d knock the hell out of me and enjoy every fucking second, but I liked a little pain.

Another few passes of the razor revealed my vivid bruise. It already showed that greenish quality an older bruise acquired. By lunch it would be gone.

Hm. I had my old complexion back, the olive and tan mix of Wutai blood.

I also had clearly defined abs.

I felt eyes upon me. With effort I didn’t turn and look at Sakura. She lay on my bed with her head turned toward the bathroom. I’d left the door open out of habit. Well, I hadn’t taken steps for privacy so I deserved a good ogling. It pleased me she wanted to ogle me. Too bad she hadn’t a good belt of liquor in her; I’d have dearly loved to know what she thought of my physique.

Shiva, I hated having to shave twice a day. I already needed to trim two inches off my hair, too. If only I hadn’t burned off all my body hair with that accidental chemical dip three months ago. Fuck, I didn’t think I’d ever recover from that debacle. The technician responsible now served as a janitor, and he would stay in that position for at least another year. I didn’t take kindly to having all my manly chest hair permanently removed.

I threw the razor in the trash and rinsed my face. After a moment’s deliberation I took the aftershave that went with the toiletries kit Aerith had given me. It smelled like lemongrass, amber and civet. I splashed it on, stiffening at the sting.

My hair still dripped from the shower. I wrung it over the sink, inspecting it for grey hairs. No, no grey hairs yet. In fact, it had gone from dull black to blue black and though still slick, it didn’t feel greasy anymore. That probably had something to do with regular showers and the tea tree oil in my shampoo. I combed it back and braided it quickly, not wanting to just gather it with a tie today.

She was still looking at me.

I grabbed the tweezers and made sure my mono-brow wouldn’t return. Then, I brushed my teeth, delaying putting on a shirt. The cool air of morning felt good and I enjoyed the idea that Sakura was looking at me. But finally I couldn’t put it off anymore. I donned the grey silk shirt, buttoned it, and tucked it in. My cuff links went on next. They had been a gift from the elder Shinra, and possibly the only sign he’d had any taste. Still, I expected an aide or advisor had picked out the platinum dragon’s head links.

As I slid my tie around my collar I heard Sakura getting up. She appeared beside me. “Let me,” she said softly, reaching for the Wutainian silk strip of black. I let her, as she wished, looking down at her young, beautiful face. She seemed as nervous as assertive, and I wondered what conflict made her so indecisive.

She made a perfect knot and slid the two ends into alignment, drawing the bond to the appropriate position at the junction of my lapels.

“Do you have a tie fetish, Sakura?” I asked softly as she stepped back to look at me.

She tilted her head. “I do like them,” she admitted. “I wear them too sometimes, but it isn’t the same on a woman. Women have a curve breaking up the flat continuity of a tie.”

I smiled. Her curve would do more than break up continuity. “I’ll let you have the bathroom now,” I told her. “I’m ordering our breakfast from the service downstairs to save time. Anything in particular you want?”

She chewed her lip, frowning thoughtfully. “I don’t eat breakfast usually, so just pick whatever you like.”

“Very well,” I said, moving out of her way. “I’m afraid you’ll have to use my masculine scented shampoo and conditioner this morning; no cherries and almonds for you.”

“Cherries and almonds?” Sakura frowned. “Do I smell like that?”

“Yes.” What was she going on about now?

“But, I don’t use scented toiletries.”

“Ah.” I shrugged. “Your natural scent, then. Forgive me; a mako-engineered body has a sensitive nose.”

Sakura sighed. “At least I don’t have an offensive smell.”

I smiled. “See you in awhile. You have about forty-five minutes before breakfast gets here.”

I walked into the living room, grabbed the wall phone and placed an order for fruit, scones, and cream with a side of smoked turkey rolls and cream cheese. I then went into the kitchen and started the water for tea, my mind turning her words over.

Of course she didn’t have an offensive smell. I could find nothing offensive about her, which was unusual for me. She had beauty, brains, grace, generosity and spirit; these qualities made her very appealing to me. I regretted our age difference. Had I been forty years younger I would have immediately taken steps to woo her the moment I recognized her quality. Alas, I was elderly in manner and mind, and not apt to link up with a woman who had such a long way to go.

I didn’t want to stifle her career anyway, which was what a romance tended to do. The only reason I’d avoided it with Lucretia was that she worked with me.

The doorbell rang. Thinking the breakfast came too soon, I want to the door and opened it immediately. To my instantaneous horror, Vincent Valentine stood on the other side of the threshold, his crimson eyes boring holes into me. “Hojo,” he intoned in his raspy voice.

I felt my throat working for a good swallow. “Valentine,” I greeted in return, stepping back. “Come in.”

He swept in, a crimson breeze that smelled like rain and earth. I shut the door and faced him, my heart beating double time. If he meant to rid the world of my blight, now was his time. Sephiroth had left for work two hours ago, and my only witness occupied the shower.

I looked at his weapon, a triple barrel gun adorned with snarling canines or lupines, I didn’t know which. He holstered it, showing me he’d only had it drawn in case I received him with hostility.

Out of all the Turks I’d known, Valentine was the only one with an independent brain. He didn’t immediately resort to brute force to get a job done, nor did he react with violence as a matter of course. I had to give him credit; he wasn’t a Shin-Ra lap dog, a mindless killer or a ruffian.

Tragically, he had never been so. Our animosity and mutual interest in Lucretia had shaded our lives so far…

“Cloud tells me you are…offering…services to the ones you have…altered,” Valentine rumbled.

“Yes,” I answered. “What’s wrong?” Good. He wasn’t here to kill me. At least, not to kill me yet…

“My arm…” Valentine’s brass-tipped left hand curled. “It hurts.”

Again I swallowed. “Valentine,” I said softly. “Lucretia is the one who introduced demons into your physiology. If this is demon-related I can’t help you.”

“I know that,” he said, his bloody eyes flaring. “I want your opinion as a man of science.” He looked toward my most immediate window as if he longed to leap out of it. “I’m…aware… of her complicity.”

Good enough. Feeling like I touched a rabid Balefore cat, I grasped the top of his gauntlet and jerked it off as gently as I could manage. I gasped, seeing a human arm instead of a demon arm.

“What?” Valentine asked.

“You’ve changed,” I said, dropping the heavy brass to the floor. I pressed on his skin, seeing the white stress points slowly pink with the rush of blood. I bent and took up the gauntlet, pressing a claw to his wrist. “Do you feel that?” I asked.

“Acutely,” he confirmed, gritting his teeth.

His demon form had capitulated to the human hoist. It was all I could imagine. The arm felt painful and different because it had returned to the natural state. I put the gauntlet back on carefully. “All you need is a supplemental mako injection,” I said, relieved. “It should last you another five or six years. If you cannot get an injection, an exposure to a natural mako fountain will accomplish the same thing.” I motioned him toward my kitchen. “Come and sit down at the table. I’ll give you an injection now and you can be on your way.”

He followed me, feeling like a menacing shadow at my back. Even I, a confirmed and dedicated heterosexual could feel the gripping authority that made him. As a Turk he’d had a form of this magnetism. I could forgive Lucretia for falling prey to his persuasive sexuality.

But, I’d mostly forgiven her a very long time ago.

His scarlet gaze moved around the kitchen as I prepped an injection, resting upon my tea service. He didn’t want to be here. It galled him to seek me out. I pitied him all of a sudden, and felt a slight kinship to his plight. I tapped the air out of the needle and approached him, watching him fight the urge to shrink back from me.

Of course he would feel repelled; I’d made him a plaything for a very long time before locking him away.

I put the syringe down on the melamine table and sat, showing him my hands. “I don’t have to do this,” I said slowly. “You can survive without the mako. Eventually, you would learn to function without it. The only problem comes in with the sensitivity of your nerve endings; your body craves the mako.”

Valentine studied me with uncomfortably intent eyes.

He was like me in a few ways. He had age and perspective warring with basic human urges. While I had evil battling for dominance within my soul, he had the more specific, demonic forms of sentience to combat.

I looked at him, seeing what Lucretia had seen with an abrupt and dismaying perception.

Valentine’s truest demons were not of the pit. They were of him, of his soul.

“Give it to me,” he growled.

I picked up the syringe and ran my thumb over his inner elbow, finding the vein. He was vital; his blood vessels flush and plump. His skin felt like sanded wood, utterly smooth and hard with only a slight amount of give. A particular vein stood out. I remembered that vein. It pained me to recall it.

“Breathe through your nose,” I said. “This is a deep needle.”

He obeyed. I slid the metal through his skin, pushing the plunger down very slowly. Valentine hissed as the mako entered his bloodstream. I knew it had been years upon years since his last treatment. No doubt his body surged toward the planet’s blood, painfully intent upon feeding itself with a nutrient long neglected.

I watched in both clinical and instinctual fascination as Valentine’s blood teeth lengthened and his eyes began to glow amber instead of ruby. He bared his teeth at me, panting. The vein I punctured swelled, taking in the mako with greed. I stroked it behind the injection site, meeting his eyes. “Calmly,” I intoned. I knew what he needed now, and I would give it to him. I hoped Sakura stayed in the bathroom another few minutes.

I took a scalpel from a nearby drawer. Taking out my cuff link, I rolled up my sleeve and cut my wrist open, raising the bleeding flesh close to his face. “Feed, Chaos,” I said.

He clamped down, not using his teeth.

I felt nothing. Utterly nothing. Not pain, not pleasure, not sorrow or fear, just nothing. That blank slate maintained, leveling out into apathy in just a moment. When he finally forced himself from me, I slumped over, my arm falling to the table.

I heard him stand. For the longest moment he hovered over me. My head felt like lead, but I managed to bring it up.

“At least,” he intoned in his dark and razored voice, “you follow through with your sins.”

“Don’t give me any credit,” I whispered.

“I only give what is due,” he returned.

A slight breeze rippled and I sat at the table alone.

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Some of you don't like the vampire cop-out routine with Vincent Valentine, I'm sure. All I can say is that I do and it's a repeating theme with me. I think he makes an excellent 'almost vampire'.