Ceaseless Oblivion

Mea Culpa-my fault in latin
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“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”-Edgar Allen Poe, “The Raven”

Sephiroth had no idea why he had ever thought that he could be a god. Gods were supposed to be omnipotent and all knowing, creatures that could not make mistakes and were perfect. They were perfect, because they were gods.

He had wanted that, thirsting for it the way that he had longed for nothing else in his entire life. Jenova, this “mother” of his told him that he could have anything he wanted, so long as he did her bidding. He did everything she wanted, died for her, gave up his life and blood for her three times in a row…and he had not gotten the honor of being called a god.

Knees were supposed to fall to the ground, in complete thrall of him. He would walk through the humans with his head held high, his hair swirling around him like white smoke. Anything would be his, and he would take the Planet to a new world, one where he would rule side by side by his mother, instead of only being permitted to touch her a few times, through that bastard glass that kept her shielded from him. He wanted vengeance, and had gotten ashes. He had wanted a reunion, and he got death. He had wanted to be a god, and he had become mortal.

No…less than a mortal. Mortal men did not so easily fall to the temptation of some entity behind a glass tank. Logically, if something in a glass tank was labeled as “Classified” and “Dangerous” one would not walk to it. However, since he had been told that Jenova had been his mother at a young age, he had wanted to know what she looked like. She was alive had been his first thought, and then, when he had read the ravings in Nibelheim in that memorable mansion…he had snapped.

All of his life he wanted someone to watch out for him. He wanted for a father to swing him around in his arms underneath the stars after a hard days work, or for a mother to kiss his brow before he drifted off to sleep. He wanted a lot of things, things that were not going to be easily gratified. SOLDIER was there for him though, but the taunts of the other men and young boys there did not soothe his want for something greater.

Also, a boastful part of himself told him that he had always been special. That was why he had known so much at a young age, and had been trained to do so much in labs: those scientists wanted him to change the world, and they wanted him to be special. If anything, he was only doing what they wanted. And if it involved getting poked, prodded, bled, and nearly tortured for the sake of something better, then he would allow it.

How foolish he had been. Only a fool would fall to the claims of a demon disguising herself as a mother and listen. Yes, she controlled him. Yes, she assumed his form. However….there was always a choice. He gave in, and fell to his knees, like some pathetic whore begging her lover for climax and pleasure, and from that surrender, he had suffered.

He was no god, nor could he ever be. The truth was that he was nothing more than a man who was infused with Jenova cells by two ambitious people, fell from grace, and had to deal with the repercussions of his actions. He was a man who was learning to be better than how his past defined him, and he was learning that things were not as incorrigible as they appeared to be.

It made him feel ashamed, so ashamed of all that he had done. So much, that sometimes he wanted to rock his head in his hands and scream into the night for all that he had caused people. Women fell from his blade, from hands that thought they were better. Skin was ripped, and he thought that their blood was disgusting, not knowing-or thinking-that it was exactly like his. If anything…he was worse than the most despicable human.

Seppuku could have been in order. It was a way for men to reclaim their lost dignity had something wicked occurred, something that they had inherently or consciously caused in their own lives, or the lives of their young ones. He could fall on his masamune, and escape into the oblivion of death, all the while thinking that this would be a way to end his pain.

Though…there were two things wrong with that stupid thought. The first, was that the Goddess herself had rebuilt his heart. If he destroyed that which she gave him, it would be as if he spit in her face. This life…or this…way of living was for the sake of a higher purpose, the one that he had spent so long striving for in his life. Also, had he committed that stupid act of killing himself, of suicide, then he would have impaled that organ that he never thought he would care about. His heart-or rather, who was in his heart-was important.

Never did he think that the red organ, the one that held separate chambers could feel for another. He didn’t think that the heart, or the matters of such a foolish part of his body, could allow his blood to boil beneath his skin. Also…Sephiroth never thought that it could be for the sake of another, why he was staying alive. He wanted to see this Promised Land with his own eyes, and fall to the ground, weeping, for he didn’t think that something that had once resembled a hell demon, a monster on earth could enter such a sacred realm.

But above all…he wanted to live for Cloud. Not just to protect the man, but to see that he and Cloud made it out together. That was their mission after all, the reason why they were banished to the darkness. One could only find their way out of darkness if they managed to conquer it from the inside out. It was a childish thought, one that was meant for fairy tales and storybooks. However, he was in the middle of one of them right now. There was no other option but to believe it was so, for he had been in this land for a little over six months, maybe eight at best.

Almost one year since his resurrection. Almost one year since he had come back to life to kill off the Planet, and bend to the whims of some foolish alien entity that longed for a vessel to do her dirty work. He was not a prince, just some errand boy who thirsted for the gleam of gold coins, and the thought of a throne. He deserved none of it, not the past glory, not his blade, not even this chance at life.

However…someone else thought differently. The Goddess would not bring him back had she not had some sort of plan, nor would she test him in the ways that she did. Meaning, in a cosmic sense, he did deserve to enjoy this time, and to fight to his last. It was the honorable thing to do, to see the error in ones ways and to better themselves because they understood that they made a mistake.

Though, redemption aside, there was another complication: Cloud himself. Cloud was someone who he had accepted he adored and wanted for his own, if only he would have him. He was someone who had seen him at his nastiest and cruelest, therefore, if he had seen and witnessed his fallout and dark rise, then there was no telling if he could ever feel anything but stemming friendship for. Hell, had he been in the man’s position, he would have thought that his enemy was trying to trick him, to lead him into a false sense of security just so that when the time came to enter the Promised Land, they would fight to the death.

That was made Cloud so amazing though. Yes, amazing, for the man was willing to accept his help, as well as take care of him. Cloud did not see it this way though, for he felt as if he were obligated to help him because the wound had been his fault. It was not his fault, but his own choosing. Had he let Cloud die…he would have been swimming in the depths of madness right now. Darkness, even in the most evil of creatures, could not survive. He was not a leech, one who could grow bloated and greedy off of the dark, nor was he a demon who would be a god amongst the monsters, amidst the lack of star shine. He was a man who needed light to survive, and company as well in order to find his way. Nightmare could be conquered if one only thought of a pleasant dream.

Cloud was everything he was not, a man who he could look up to without fear of accidental idealization. Cloud was the ideal of a man, a warrior, a savior and a hero, someone who young men should model themselves after and who young women should look for in their future husbands and lovers. He had not always been that way he knew, for he was the one-Goddess forgive him-who had altered that wonderfully innocent mind of his for the worse. He had made him his servant, a puppet, and someone who caused his resurrection in the Crater through the orb of black materia. Such a strong soul could be broken if they were pushed too hard. And Cloud had been broken, bashed and battered, a fragment of a man. The pieces of himself were scattered, fabrications and persona’s blown apart by the cold wind he had inflicted.

Yet…a miracle had happened. The man had overcome his self loathing, and all of the hatred that was inflicted in his heart for the sake of something greater. Cloud had done what man had tried to do all throughout time, what man failed to do: see past the flaws in a person.

Which was why he loved him. More than he dared say, dared pronounce and think.

Both he and Cloud were currently resting under a large gathering of trees, trees that had thick leaves blocking out the sky. Had there been a sun or moon, there would have been patches of scattered light all along the ground, of which would have given some life to the bleak landscape. The only light still radiated off of Cloud’s skin, like the cold fire from a star. Cloud was the light in its entirety.

They had been sitting by a fire, talking about nothing, and everything. Sephiroth was trying hard not to banter-or stare-but it was mighty hard when the man was sitting four feet away from him. Despite the fact that both men used to have so much distance between them, be it flame or the ocean itself, they now chose to have proximity.

He had called Cloud Miss Cloud once again, and for the millionth time it seemed, he was instigated about his weight, and the fact that he was now deemed “Mr. Incorrigible.” Sephiroth was not offended by the nickname, or the weight, for given his height, he had to weigh more than Cloud. Also…he was capable of change. Of that he was most certain.

Despite everything, the warmth from the fire made him drowsy. In the middle of a sentence, he yawned slightly, and Cloud stared at him, as if he could not believe that he, the once Demon of Wutai had let that sound slip from his mouth. He knew what it made him sound like. It made him sound human, and a tired one at that.

“Sephiroth…you should go to bed.” Cloud stammered once, and looked to the ground. “That is…if you want. I won’t force you to do anything.” Ever the modest one.

Ever since he had embraced the man a few days ago, things had been a little different between them. Cloud seemed humiliated that he had allowed such a show of emotion to come over him, but that died down eventually. He was learning to unlock his thoughts and mind, and to let him into his head, ever so slowly. It couldn’t be rushed. Change did not come suddenly. Had a butterfly not taken the time to sway back and forth on the branch that it made its post for metamorphosis, rocking the cocoon until it broke, the wings that the caterpillar had been spending its energy to create would get torn lose, or dry up. Nothing could be hurried, lest something go awry.

Sephiroth managed a nod. “I think I will. And Miss Cloud, you are not forcing me to do anything.” Their eyes locked then, the blue of the lightest seas meshing with the aqua of algae. Something electric passed between the two men, and Sephiroth wondered if it was the crackle and hiss in the air of a coming storm, or something else. A storm within the skin.

Cloud broke eye contact first, which made Sephiroth slightly disappointed. “T-thanks. I just…I don’t want to command you or anything. I won’t order you around.”

Sephiroth snorted and stood up, walking to a small patch of grass he had made as his bed. It was better than nothing. It would have been ten thousand times better had Cloud chosen to walk over there, wrap his arms around him, and fall into the “bed” with him. Cloud was plenty warm, and with the steady sound of his strong heart, Sephiroth would fall asleep instantly. However, as long as this charade of dancing around Cloud was in action, Sephiroth would not get anywhere near to making that a reality.

“Don’t worry so much, Strife.” Sephiroth got on top of the small bed, rolled to his back, and closed his eyes. Ah, this was bliss. Though, what would have been true bliss and rapture would be if a certain blonde would roll on top of him, and place his head on his chest. That would have made him sleep instantly. Or never sleep again. “Please, wake me up when you want to leave.”

Cloud mumbled something, and finally spoke something coherent. “Sure, Seph. Just get some rest, alright? I don’t want you straining yourself.”

The comment almost made Sephiroth bolt upright in his bed. Cloud had called him…Seph. No one had ever had the gall to do that to his face. Maybe Genesis said something along those lines years and years ago, and Zack could have said something along the lines of such a term of endearment. Damn. Cloud had no idea what his words, body, and mind would do to him. He would be the death of him yet.

“I won’t strain myself by sleeping, now will I?” Damn. That had come out sounding a little too smart ass like. He didn’t want to be…a smart ass, a know it all, or a past General. He wanted to have a normal conversation with the man he loved. “Thank you for your concern, Cloud. I appreciate it.” Sleep was tugging on his eyelids, and he was astonished at how exhausted he felt right then. It felt as if two iron coins were behind his eyelids, weighing down his oculars until they rolled back into his head, forcing sleep to come over him. He would welcome it. Just as soon as he heard what the love of his life had to say.

“Of course. After all…I promised you I would take care of you. Sleep well, Sephiroth.”

A small smile crossed Sephiroth’s features. He would sleep well tonight, he just knew it. Who could have nightmares when their earth angel was protecting them?
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The first thing Sephiroth was aware of, was that he was surrounded by fire. It scorched the insides of his nostrils, tickling the hairs there, almost singing them. The second was that he was aware of a doppelganger version of himself, right in front of him.

He blinked twice, and took a deep breath. A dream? He craned his neck once, and tried turning his head. However, that was when he realized that if he did that, pain would lace his entire body in agony. Sephiroth looked up, and with horror, realized he was stuck to…something. It might have been a wall, but it was no color that was decipherable. It might have been red one minute, but the next it was black. And worst of all…it was moving. There were wriggling things surrounding his feet and his scalp, and he longed to tear them off his skull and toes, for it felt like…no, it couldn’t be.

Sephiroth winced in pain. Oh, yes. These things…whatever the Hell made up the wall had teeth, and they were scraping away at his skin. His eyes opened wide, and he thrashed his body from the wall, finding that all that did was intensify the pain in his head and feet. Something wanted to keep him here…trapped in horror and nightmare.

“No…I thought…”

When he spoke, the thing that might have been his twin-or clone-turned around. Sephiroth caught the entire landscape as his double turned around, and he couldn’t help but feel sick. He was back in Nibelheim, just like the time when the Goddess was punishing him, dragging him through memories, torturing him for the sake of unlocking the truth. This time however…he feared he was stuck here, ever caught on this wall of wriggling things, watching someone who was him murder people.

The sky was scarlet, the color of old blood that had long since dried over the killing blow, and the clouds looked like they were poisoned, black things that had no business being in the sky. Smoke filtered in the air, and the smell of burning flesh and sizzling wood hit Sephiroth’s nostrils. A scream pierced the air, and for a moment, Sephiroth thought it might have come from his own throat. It would not have been the first time that he had screamed without his own knowledge.

It was not his scream though. The Sephiroth that was running rampant through the village had grabbed a woman by her hair, whirled her around, and impaled her through the ribs. He was evil, and the glint in his eyes was of every unholy thing coming to light in his soul. The Devil Himself would have been proud of his actions, and the demons were probably clapping their hands in glee because of the act.

“Stop!” The sound reverberated around the area, and it managed to overthrow the sound of the decaying roofs and tortured cries. The double turned around, winked at him, and whipped out masamune with a turn of his wrist. The woman’s cries stopped when the doppelganger severed the woman’s head. He tossed the body aside, as if the thing that he had been interested in all along was a trophy.

The evil him walked over to Sephiroth and looked up at him. Damn, he looked exactly like him. Though, this Sephiroth was clothed in his old leather SOLDIER uniform, whereas he…had no clothes on. He was entirely exposed, nude in this horror.

Sephiroth struggled against whatever held him against the wall, and felt something sharp digging into his palms. A gasp escaped his lips. How had he…not noticed this pain before? He was nailed to this wall…like some sort of anti-Christ being sacrificed for some sort of bizarre and wicked ritual, one that would have caused Hell to reign on every pure realm in the universe. Sephiroth tried wrenching his hands free, but nothing happened. In fact, the nails-or whatever it was-seemed to dig in deeper into his skin and bone. Blood was surely flowing down his arm, and he was surprised that there was not a feeding frenzy all around him from the wounds.

His double gave him a look of amusement, and then disgust. He spat in his direction, and then held up the head he had in his left hand. “Recognize her, you pitiful thing?” Sephiroth nearly choked on his own bile at the gore that had been made of the woman’s neck. Did he recognize…oh no. No! NO!

“Cloud’s mother…” He had killed the woman, years and years ago. He had stabbed her through and through…and she had told him something. The words came back, and he nearly did retch on himself because of it.

She had said “And to think…he wanted to be just like you.” Cloud’s mother. He had killed Cloud’s mother!

The Sephiroth on solid ground smiled, but it held no warmth from the effort. In fact, it almost looked like he had only smiled because he had a plan for something dark and sinister. The smile of a monster, the grin of a beast.

“You do recognize her!” The Sephiroth holding the head tossed the woman’s head away, as if he tired from macabre. Then, he tilted his head back, as if he had heard something that Sephiroth’s ears had not heard. On the horizon, he saw Zack walking with Cloud in tow, and the two were in their old uniforms for SOLDIER. Both seemed completely oblivious of the destruction all around them, and they passed through the wreckage without so much as casting a perturbed glance to one another. Old friends, brothers even, blind to the death all around them.

They hurried over to Sephiroth, and they greeted him with salutes and praises, for he had been the General. Had been. The Sephiroth on the ground, the sinister one, turned his head around as the two men were praising him, and he smiled so cruelly, he looked as if he could have given the highest demon a run for his own post. The Devil had a new favorite it seemed.

Sephiroth knew that smile. It was one he flashed many people right before he…before…before death reigned by his hand and blade.

“STOP! NO! Cloud! Zack!” He had to save them, even if this was not real. For, the pain was real in his hands, scalp and feet, as was the steady kneading of small teeth all around his body. The smells were real, the scent of burning flesh, miasma air and the sulfurous skies. This was real…for now. A nightmare brought to life, roaring into existence.

The double whipped out masamune and Sephiroth lurched forward, trying to escape this Hell on the wall. He tore at his hands, and screamed when one hand wrenched free. Did he even have a hand? He didn’t know anymore. If he could do it one time, surely he could do it again? “Cloud! Zack! GET AWAY FROM ME!” Sephiroth stopped himself. He had meant to say to get away from him…but the word “me” had come out instead.

The doppelganger looked up at him, leered evilly, and then impaled both men. Zack doubled over in self contained agony, blood bubbles popping on his mouth, exploding around his face. The Sephiroth amidst the destruction smiled wickedly and slashed Zack’s body into halves, first leaving the man without feet, arms, and then a head. He leaned down and picked up the severed head.

Sephiroth had not stopped screaming while this was going on. Something was falling down his cheeks, and he thought that it was liquid fire, ash, or blood. But when it hit his lips and he tasted salt, he knew he was crying. Zack, in this world, was dead. But Cloud…Cloud, the man he loved, he was still alive!

“Stop! I’ll do anything!”

The Sephiroth that leered over a terrified younger Cloud stopped, and turned around, as if interested. “Oh? Such as?”

Sephiroth wracked his brain. How did one bargain with demons? What were they interested in anyhow? They were interested in pain, and being given options.

“Such as anything. Let him go. You know how I feel about him.”

This seemed to get the wicked Sephiroth’s attention. He tilted his head back in a mockery of laughter. “Oh, I know all about that. For you see…we are the same, you and I. You did all of this once!” He brought his hands up, as if he were showing the world the village he had lain to waste. “All OUR doing Sephiroth! However,” he paused, all the while grabbing a petrified and shaking Cloud up by the collar “I HATE this feeling you have for such a pitiful, weak excuse of a boy. ShinRa lets anyone enter SOLDIER these days, especially mutts like him.” The Sephiroth walked with Cloud in tow, and they got closer to the wall. He wrenched Cloud up with one hand, and his feet were dangling to the scorched earth.

Sephiroth saw the wide angles of Cloud’s eyes, the splash of freckles across his nose and high cheekbones and despite everything, felt a surge of attraction for the boy. For, he was just a boy now, someone who had his entire life ahead of him. He would not let himself…this thing resembling him, or a demon take it from him. He tried getting his other hand free, but the nail would not give. All of a sudden, a sickening squelch was heard, and the hand he had worked so hard to free was now trapped to the wall. He moaned, and the doppelganger laughed.

“PITIFUL! Do you see, Cloud? See the face of the man who adores you!” All of this was spoken in a tone of pure derision, the tongue of an adder spewing poisoned, venom laced words. Cloud was shaking, but he said nothing.

Sephiroth screamed at him, begged, pleaded. Cloud was important, as was Zack. But Zack…in this Hellish void…was gone forever, nothing more than limbs and blood now. No soul would dare linger around such a mess of a body. Cloud looked left and right, but he didn’t seem to be able to see him. And if he couldn’t see him, he couldn’t hear him as well.

The cruel double cackled. “You are pathetic. And pathetic little boys who fall for worthless cadets deserve nothing,” he swept his blade across Cloud’s throat, and the body fell away from the head “except remains.”

Sephiroth felt a cry die in his throat, disintegrating behind his teeth. Cloud, in this world…was dead. But if this was a nightmare, some sort of horrible dream he was forced to endure for some test…he would end it now. Where was the exit, the awakening? Dawn had to come sometime, and the dark nightingale would cease to sing, rousing him from his terrible slumber. It had to.

“You can’t be real!” Sephiroth then began causing himself as much pain imaginable. Cloud’s death, and Zack’s inflicted a strong fire in his chest, making him think that he had to get out of here and avenge their deaths, avenge them in general. That kind of friendship and love would not easily quench, no matter how hard that wicked hand tried to put out the flames. He tore on his hands, and didn’t stop when he felt nothing from them. The leech things all over him spread then, licking, slurping and biting at his skin, as if his flesh and blood were some sort of delicacy to them.

The doppelganger smiled, and for some reason, his mouth spread up in a smile as well. What…was this?

“Don’t you see, Sephiroth? You are real, and so am I. We are one in the same, you and I. For…we are one another.” Sephiroth felt a huge lurch come over his body, and he found himself off of that vile wall, and in another body. Something was odd…and then he knew two things. One, he had said the exact same words as his double, speaking them in a simultaneous mimicry. The second was a lot more horrifying though. He realized he was now in the evil Sephiroth’s body, the body that was his own.

He looked to his hands, and saw that Cloud’s head was in one hand, and Zack’s in the other. Macabre. One shouldn’t mess with the dead, or their remains. Respect for the dead. And above all “Death is never something to laugh at.” Cloud had told him those exact words, so long ago it seemed, before he even closed his eyes to sleep his horrible sleep.

Sephiroth shook at his hands, and once the heads were gone, blood stains remained. His hands were bare, which was a first. He had always worn gloves for as long as he could remember. He took off running, looking for something to clean them on. For no reason, he recalled a play Genesis had once read aloud to the barracks, “Macbeth” by Shakespeare, in which a certain Lady Macbeth had thought that there were permanent bloodstains on her hands from the murder she was responsible for.

He had not one death on his hands, but many.

Fire. Fire would eliminate the stains! Without thinking and without caring, Sephiroth plunged his hands into the fire, howling in agony as they dissolved his hands, turning them into ash within moments. Then, all of a sudden, everything was ash. No…not only ash. Red as well. Red was tainting the ash.

A scream tore from his throat, and it lasted long after that body died. Some horrors did not die with the body.
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There was something moving, something shifting and lurching with movement. What was it? Was it another hellish nightmare to endure, all for his sins? Some mistakes could not be erased, just as they could not be forgotten. Forgiveness was far away, as was any notion of the thought.

Sephiroth then understood that the thing that was moving was him. Something had his shoulders, and they were rocking them back and forth, as if they meant to rouse him…or devour him whole.

He shot up, unseeing, hell bent on killing whatever was on top of him. What now? Had the remains of the people that he-the Sephiroth in Nibelheim and nightmare world-rose from the dead, stopping at nothing to cause him the massive amount of harm possible? He raised his hands, and began scratching at whatever held him in their grip, all the while screaming obscenities.

“Haven’t you had enough? Let me go! LET ME GO!” Sephiroth was beyond caring, and he found his arms shaking in his horror and what he had just experienced. Little had scared him before…but this was a new breed of fear entirely. In the physical world, things were a little more exact and for certain. In the mind and in a world where oblivion reigned, nothing was guaranteed to stay the same, or keep the fabric of logic on, the way someone would fashion clothes to themselves. It was a savage place, a place where fear was the master and where nightmare could fester and burn like an infection.

Something slapped him, and the fog from his eyes cleared. He panted and closed his eyes, not willing to see the horror above him. He knew it would have either his face, or the face of someone he cared for in a position where he wouldn’t have liked. Cloud did not deserve to have the face of evil.

“Sephiroth…I’ve got you. It’s alright. Sephiroth, wake up. Open your eyes for me.”

What was this? Was Cloud…his nightmare now? Or, the logic and reason in his mind dictated, was the horror now at its end? Could such a thing be possible?

Sephiroth opened his eye a slit, and then opened both eyes all of the way. There was the sky, black as the cruelest heart, trees, opening their branches like claws that wanted to snatch. There was also the light from the fire, casting an orange glow around the campsite, throwing half silhouettes over everything. And above all, looming over him like an angel that fought nightmare, was Cloud. The light from his skin seemed to be glowing brighter, as if he was agitated. His eyes were filled with worry-for him?-and his entire body was on top of him.

Sephiroth blinked twice, and breathed a sigh of relief. A dream, all of it.

“I…I’m awake now.” He sat up slowly, and brought a hand to his brow, feeling that it was lined with sweat. Sephiroth shivered, remembering the heat of the fire, and the torture of the wall. He never wanted to experience something that real ever again.

“Sephiroth…are you alright?” He turned to look at Cloud, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw how close the man had become. Within three inches, he could have been kissing the man, relishing the taste of him on his tongue, in his mouth. Those lips could banish his horror, and make it nothing more than the dark inner workings of his mind, a mind that wished to cause him anguish.

Sephiroth looked to his hands then, and remembered the nails. He shivered and scooted closer to the fire, hoping to gain some warmth. Hell was fire yes…but it was also a place that was barren without life giving heat, frozen solid through bone and sinew, freezing the blood and heart. “I…I had a bad dream.”

Cloud looked to the earth, and nodded, his head drooping as if he were in mourning for something. “I know. You were…shrieking Sephiroth. It was unlike any scream I have ever heard…and I’ve heard a lot.”

He had been screaming aloud? The horror had been real enough, and he was surprised that his living self, the one outside of that hideous place was alright, much less well for the wear. Sephiroth was not bleeding from small gashes on his feet and scalp, his hands were nail free, and there was no fire that wanted his body. And above all, Zack was alive in the Promised Land…and Cloud had his head.

“Sephiroth, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I had a dream once, and I never shared it with you. We’re even this way.”

Sephiroth turned to face the man, and was surprised at how placid Cloud looked then. His features had smoothed over in acceptance, and his eyes blazed with a mixture of lapis and churning lava, a contradiction in his oculars. Cloud’s lips were set in a firm line, as if he hated this turn of events, and wished that Sephiroth would tell him what happened. However…he was willing to completely overlook this. How normal was it for someone to scream the way that he had been, or dream what he had dreamt? It wasn’t. Yet…Cloud was willing to not look at it, or see it for what it was. No…not quite that. He was willing to allow him privacy, and give him this secret. What a man he was.

“Cloud…I’ll tell you. It was…horrifying though. It will make you see me differently.”

Cloud turned to look at him, and Sephiroth swore he was looking at an angel then. Seraphs looked like this he knew, so serene and beautiful, their faces etched in glass marble. They were supposed to look perfect. Cloud was not perfect…but he could not get much closer if he tried. He was a man of his word, and honor.

“Sephiroth…you know what I have seen you do. I have seen you do worse things than thrash about because of a nightmare. I have seen you at your worst, at your absolute nastiest.” He paused for a breath, and Sephiroth wondered what it would be like to capture that breath in between his lips. Would it taste sweet? Or would it taste like his life force? “Sephiroth…tell me. I will not look at you differently. Tell me anything…because you deserve that privilege. Confide in me.”

Sephiroth looked to Cloud’s eyes, and wondered how any being could be so considerate. Kindness was beauty. “Alright. It was…terrible. I dreamt I was stuck to a wall…nailed by my palms. My body was out stretched.” Sephiroth looked down at his hands, almost as if he could not believe that he had dreamt of such a thing. What had he been thinking before bed to cause such horrible visions? Though, horror was not far in oblivion. “There were these swarms of leeches all around me…sucking, biting and eating. At my head and feet.”

Cloud shuddered, and a brief flash of horror crossed his eyes. Yes, horror. Anyone would be terrified had their companion told them such a dream. Though, Sephiroth could not help but wonder if it was because of the images and actions in such a nightmare, or the one dreaming up such terrors. Did that make him…insane? A monster for thinking such thoughts?

“Also…the sky was burning. Everything was on fire: the land, the houses…even the clouds. It was…Nibelheim, Cloud. I was dreaming of Nibelheim.”

Cloud flinched a little, but his eyes did not waver from his own. How did he do that? How could he look at him knowing what he did? Had someone told Sephiroth that his nemesis dreamt of the village he was born and raised in-knowing he had caused it havoc-he would have killed the enemy already. But not Cloud. The man flinched yes, but he did not look away from him. He was bravely listening to the horrors of his dream, and letting him say anything without getting angry, or emotional. He was simply letting him talk, to share his feelings, and to confide in him. In this area, in this pocket of space by a fire and black skies, there was no judgment. And he loved the man all the more for it.

“The strangest thing happened though. I was watching myself…kill people. There were screams, and I wanted to help those who were screaming.” He caught the man’s eye, and wished he could crack open his soul to show Cloud how truthful he was being. He was truly sorry for what had transpired. However, it was never that simple. Seeing into someone’s soul required practice. Especially when they wanted to know the truth, and that they were repentant of past events. “I was watching a double of myself kill people. Also…” he swallowed, not trusting his voice “…your mother. The thing that was myself…killed your mother. Right in front of me.”

Cloud’s eyes widened a half a centimeter, but his face remained smooth, impassive. “How…did it happen?”

Sephiroth started. The man wanted to know how such a hideous thing had happened? He would not have wanted details of his own mother’s death, but Cloud…Cloud didn’t want anything hidden. There was no need to sugarcoat anything around him. He wanted reality, the truth of the matter. He was no child who needed to be shielded from the truth, because he did not know better. He was a man who wanted to know the details of his dream, of which involved telling him how his mother was killed by the vile demon that had been himself.

“She was beheaded. The Sephiroth below me showed me her face, and asked me if she looked familiar.” A chill swept over his skin, and he warmed his hands by the fire. The heat gave his skin warmth, but not his heart. His heart was hurting, thousands of shards of ice slipping through his ribcage, hitting every chamber of his heart with his breaths. This is what happened when the guilt of your past caught up to the sin of the present. He didn’t blame him if his entire friendship, mission and camaraderie with Cloud was jeopardized because of this. He did not blame him at all.

“I screamed at him…it…me…and told it not to do it again. Then…you and Zack walked towards the thing that was me. You both saluted the Sephiroth there, and it turned around and smirked at me…as if it were mocking you both.” Sephiroth lowered his eyes to the ground, feeling chagrin spread over his features. His cheeks burned with inner self loathing, a derision that only the most jaded of men feel. He had made a grand mistake, and he wondered if he could ever be atoned for it. There were not enough wastelands to endure, not enough oblivions to trek through to make up for all of the horror of his past. There were some lights that could not shine in the dark, no matter if it was lined in sapphire skin, perfect skin.

“Then…it killed Zack. I pleaded with it to stop…I did…but nothing I said made a bit of a difference. Zack was sliced in front of me…in small pieces. Then…it grabbed you. It held you up by your collar, and told you to look at me. In this dream, you couldn’t see me. Only the Sephiroth on the ground could, the one who was causing mayhem.” Sephiroth knew that he was over emphasizing the fact that the Sephiroth who was killing others in the dream was not him, but he had to make sure that Cloud knew the difference. Or, a part of him thought, he just wanted to know that he himself knew that that was not him.

“After that…though I was screaming…it killed you. It beheaded you as well.” Sephiroth did not miss the way that Cloud’s fingertips ghosted over his own throat, as if to make sure that his own head was still lodged on his neck. “It then said that he and I were the same person, and that I had grown weak, a pitiful shade of my former self.” He laughed then, and the sound slipped from his lips like a wretched poison. “Then…the horror truly began. I felt myself falling off of the wall, and turning into something else. I looked to my hands, and saw that I and that…monstrosity had become one.” Should he leave it at that? There was more he knew, so much more to the tale than he was letting on. Should he sugarcoat, hide behind his words so not to hurt Cloud? No. No he shouldn’t. Nothing got done on dishonesty.

“In my hands Cloud…was the heads of you and Zack. I threw them from my hands and noticed these…massive blood stains there. I went a little mad then, and burned my hands, trying to get the stains out. Ash went everywhere, and it was stained the color of my blood, filtering in the skies, floating. Then, I woke up.” There, he had said it. There was nothing that was hidden from Cloud anymore. The man knew what had transpired, knew his thoughts. There was nothing more to be said…aside from a reply to Cloud’s reaction. Of which Cloud had not had yet.

Sephiroth searched the man’s face and eyes for any sign of anything. It was not apathy, but something else there. His eyes were squinted, as if he were looking to a place he could not see, watching things that could not be watched. Cloud’s hands balled into fists a few times during his tale, but afterwards, he unclenched them. He wondered what it would feel to have those fingers slip in between his own, and make him complete.

Cloud spoke at last. “Sephiroth…you’re hurting right now.” It was not a question, but it was a statement. Was he hurting right then? Well, he supposed so. One could only hurt when the nightmare they had, was a direct reflection of their thoughts and feelings.

Dreams were some part that was hidden away from the world, a bridled beast that could only hunt and be free at night, in the witching hour. Meaning…this was the shape of his soul, what he had felt and experienced. It was the fear of becoming that man again, the one that wanted the destruction of the Planet on his hands and shoulders, like an anti-Atlas. Also, he feared losing his sanity and causing the death of his friends once more. Zack had been killed because he had been so caught up in Jenova’s bidding, that he had not defended the man, or kept those bullets from killing him. Cloud…he had failed Cloud terribly, in the life he led on Gaia. Was he doomed to repeat that same history?

Sephiroth sighed, the breath slipping between his lips. That was it. He had failed Cloud. “I hurt…only because I failed you.” His head fell down, as if he were bowing to the fire then, bowing and worshipping the thing that had made him warm. That was not it at all though. He was lowering his head because of shame, the way a child who was in trouble was prone to doing. How ashamed of himself he was.

Never could he have expected what came next. Cloud was behind him then, and he had wrapped his arms around him, holding him from behind. A gasp slipped from his lips again, and the last of his resolve faded away. How could anything feel so wonderful?

“Sephiroth…you haven’t. You dreamt a terrible dream is all. Nightmares mean nothing. Really Seph…they don’t. You won’t be that person again, I swear it on my life.” There was that nickname again, that term of endearment that he adored hearing. No one had ever been so comfortable with him enough to tell him or give him such a thing.

Also…Cloud was comforting him, the way he had done in the past. In the caves, when he had thought he was a freak because he healed fast, Cloud was there, telling him he was nothing short of miraculous. That second time, when he gave him a strawberry, tracing his lips ever so softly to his own. And now, his angel, the seraph and sylph that was Cloud was holding him, rocking him as if comforting a small child. Normally, he would have hated this had it been anyone else. He was not the hugging type, or the anything type for that matter. He would not have liked this kind of attention, or pity, for another. However, this was the depths of empathy here, something that could not be shrugged off easily. Cloud was feeling for him. He did not hate him. Rather…he was holding him because he needed to be held.

“How can you be so sure, Cloud? Look at all I’ve done. Truthfully, look at all of it. My friends are dead because of me. My mother is in a prison of ice, and the world may have gone to ruin at my hands. I listened to some…space parasite, thinking her to be my mother. And your village is gone forever, all because of my foolish actions. My foolish, foolish actions. Mea culpa. Mea culpa.” The last line was Latin for “My fault” of which he repeated twice for emphasis. It was his fault.

Sephiroth bowed his head, lowering it almost to where the flames could brush his forehead. His eyes were squeezed shut, closed the way that they had been when he had suffered the wound through his abdomen. He was blocking out the pain, refusing to surrender, but dimming down the fight anyways. Why fight it? The sting of tears was in his eyes, and he would have easily dropped his guards, threw his swords away and shields, and given in to the long and lengthy cry he wanted. But a real man did not cry.

Cloud squeezed him harder, gripping his shoulder blades tenderly. It felt so good to have someone hold him, despite everything. He was human for sure, for gods did not need the basic comforts of human warmth. He did however. He needed it the way that water could not satisfy. He needed this the way that food did not quench hunger. He needed Cloud, above all basic necessities. Sustenance was in the way that the man’s hands enclosed around his shoulder blades, kneading him ever so softly to let him know that he was there for him, to let him know that he was there in general. It was in his heated breath on his neck, breath that kissed the air around his own neck, making him long for beautiful, parted lips.

“Sephiroth…I have looked at what you done. You did terrible things to so many people. Nibelheim is a thing of the past, existing only in your memories and mine. Humans are dead, and were diseased from Geostigma because of you.” Sephiroth felt hatred fill his mouth, aimed only for himself. Cloud’s touch became cold to the touch then, and he wondered, for an insane second, if Cloud would take off and leave him in the dark. The darkness of his thoughts were now only his. “I know that. However…I also know that you are a changed man. You see now that Jenova is nothing more than a “space parasite” as you put it, and you see the errors you made. You told me you would never repeat what you did…and I am holding you to your word on that. You never will Sephiroth. You are not evil. You are not a monster.”

Sephiroth bit his lips to keep the tremors that were erupting in his throat at bay. Dear Goddess…he was beginning to breakdown! Cloud had touched his spirit now, luring out that dark beast, the one that caused that nightmare, and killed it in infancy. In his mind, there was fear that he would become that person…but he had reason not to. Cloud was the reason. Cloud was the purpose, the just cause why he would not, could not and never would allow himself to fall into evil or a god complex again. Meaning, he was vulnerable to tears, to emotions he hated showing. Though, if he allowed his heart to beat for Cloud, it was not that different. Tears were water, spilling from eyes that had never been allowed to cry. He was allowed this…for Cloud had privileged him with such a thing. How he loved him.

“T-thank you.” The last of his resolve left him then, and he allowed his lips to slip from his teeth. A sob escaped his throat, and he choked, gagged, and cried. He wept with the abandon a child has when they lose a pet to an ill timed death, or when a parent passes. They were tears of mourning, for he was crying for all the wrong he had caused. Through these tears, he was letting those that he had caused harm that he felt awful about it, horrible and shameful through every fiber in his being. He opened his soul then, and if the Goddess was so gracious, she would let his thoughts and cries be heard to the hearts, minds and ears of those that he had wronged.

Tears flowed freely from his eyes, and he was surprised that he who had never truly shed a tear could cry so openly, without restraint. And in front of someone no doubt! The tables had turned, and everything was different. All was not the same, nor would it ever be. However, he and Cloud were dealing with it, moving forward and on with their plan for escape. He was healing, and so was Cloud. There was still much of oblivion to trek through, but he could believe that the worst was behind him. Horror could be banished if the right person came, blowing pure breath on foul thoughts and fear. It dissolved into the night, the way shadows were banished when there was no object casting a silhouette.

Cloud gripped him hard, and placed his chin on his shoulder. He was comforting him in the best way he knew how to, and he was doing wonderfully. No words could have helped, only his arms and hands, those healing hands and warm arms. Warmth, and the light from an unlikely source could banish phantoms, haunts and the nightmare.

“Sephiroth…it is alright. It really is.”

Sobs escaped his lips, but they abated eventually, stifling to small little hiccups and quick releases of breath. The shards of cold and glass that had seeped into his heart seemed to abate, melt and turn into warm life water given from the purity of the Lifestream itself. He was warm now, mended, not broken. He was not broken!

Sephiroth wiped at his eyes a few times, wondering what he looked like right then. He must have been a mess, a sniveling thing that should not have been shown sympathy. But Cloud delivered. He had told him that he was not a monster, and that he was changed. The thing he had seen was more than likely a test from the Goddess, showing him what could be had he chosen wrong. He had to guard his thoughts from malicious intent, for he was only given this one chance. And it had taken this one chance to fall for someone he had wronged so terribly in the past.

Cloud released him, and gently helped him to his feet. He wanted to walk him over to his bed he knew, so that he could truly sleep now, without nightmare. He swayed a little, but Cloud caught his arm and waist, bringing him close to his chest for a moment. A moment was all it took for an ignition of fire and ice to ripple through his bloodstream. It was a current of fire in his body, a conflagration of the mind and spirit, searing him the way no bastard nightmare fire could do. Jade caught azure eyes, and there was no movement from either man. They were both in mutual rapture of each other, a shock to their senses from such a sweet thrill of eyes meeting eyes.

Never had Sephiroth wanted to kiss Cloud more than right then. But this was inappropriate, the timing. It had to be perfect somehow.

“Sephiroth…you still need rest. I still mean what I said about you not straining yourself.” Cloud encircled his hand around his waist, and gently, he positioned his body on the grass bed. Sephiroth blinked twice, watching the form of Cloud encompass everything else in sight. There was no black sky, no full dark that suffocated him. There was only gentle blue light, a kind soul caring for another. There was sky, in one man’s eyes, a man who was named after part of the Heaven’s, the Cloud he adored.

“I will rest. I just…I am afraid.” The truth did set one free. “I am afraid of nightmare.” Not, of nightmares. But of nightmare itself. He did not want to face this alone, for he was terrified of tripping into some horrible dream. “Please…could you stay by my side right now?”

Cloud’s eyes widened in a moment of shock. But then, his eyes softened the way that they now did. Before…they were chips of ice, a glacier that happened to be the soft color of summer skies. Perfect summer skies. He had changed as well, for the better. “Yes, I will stay by your side, Seph. I’ll help you fall asleep.” Gently, he lowered Sephiroth’s body to the grass bed and ushered him to close his eyes. “Now…this might help you sleep. This is going to be…awkward…but given that we just hugged for ten hours, I think you’ll be okay with the methods of my choosing.”

Despite himself, Sephiroth laughed once. The man was still so amusing. “Do with me what you will Strife.”

Cloud urged him to close his eyes. He did, and immediately warm, life giving hands touched his face. He flinched once, and then his body went limp. There was role reversal here, for he was now the puppet with the wooden limbs that would go slack with the puppeteers choosing. Cloud would tug his strings, and he would bend to his will. Fingertips traced small circles on his eyelids, and a fingertip ran down the length of his eyelids, brushing his eyelashes. It felt amazing, almost as if a mother…his real mother…were helping him fall asleep.

A slight humming sound was heard, and Sephiroth strained to hear it. It sounded like the music of a lullaby, the notes of a nightly serenade meant to calm a child.
“My mother sang this to me. I don’t remember the words…but I know the tune. It always helped me sleep when I was very young.” Sephiroth did not mind being babied. For some reason, he had no problem with it. He was damaged inside, and was willing to feel the empathy of another to get the help he needed. He was no god, just a man who wanted out with the one touching his face.

Cloud traced small patterns down his cheekbones, twirling circles on his jaw line and face. Then, a finger went over his eyebrows, and his muscles went relaxed. Sleep was not far away, sleep without nightmare and strain, a dreamless land where he would be able to rest and face whatever the black dawn brought.

“Sleep now, Sephiroth. You deserve it.”

‘Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.’ Genesis again, but rather than invading his thoughts, the words were a lullaby, a soothing mantra. The quote was from “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe he knew, and it involved…something. He couldn’t remember anything aside from a man watching a raven through the rafters, a raven that said “Nevermore.”

However, the quote, his tired mind decided, thought that it was about his life. He dared to think of forgiveness, atonement and the thought of redemption, things that he normally wouldn’t have thought possible. All because of Cloud. Cloud was why he dared to dream dreams no mortal ever dreamt before.

There were still traces of shame, and Cloud had not said he forgave him. But the horror was gone. And maybe, just maybe, the worst was behind him.