Shattered Children

a/n: At last! After an unplanned hiatus, I have returned with the next chapter! I promise the next update won't take as long as I've already written the next chapter (it was actually written long before this one was since it's an interlude). I've made it my goal to finish Shattered Children so I've been dedicating my time and focusing solely on it. So far so good. Let's hope the muses stay with me.

Thanks to all my dedicated readers and reviewers, what few there be of you, for sticking with me through this incredibly massive arc. Thanks to Kuromei and Nelleh. I'm glad to see Elena and Marlene's fate didn't scare you away. Honestly, it really was planned from the get-go (blame my sadistic beta/plot-bouncer).

Not much warnings here except for the fact that it's unbeta'ed and there may be some grammatical errors. Enjoy!

By the way, "You Fight Me," by Breaking Benjamin was like the greatest background music for this battle. As was "Somewhere I Belong," by Linkin Park (which was Sephiroth's theme from Broken and Bonded Refrain if anyone read that associated piece).

Shattered Children: Chapter Fourteen
Delusions of Grandeur

He could feel her, so close to him. The last remnants of Mother, the pieces of Jenova, throbbing against his chest. She was inside this box, this human-made cage. And her voice was that much louder, her presence impressionable.

Kadaj ignored the force of the whipping wind, the feeling of the motorcycle rumbling beneath him. It felt as if he were running away from something, because he certainly wasn't running to anywhere. Just going where Mother led him. He didn't know what she wanted, just that Sephiroth following behind them was one of her desires. To her, he was nothing.

It hurt to fight her, like a physical pain ripping through his abdomen. And he kept thoughts of Archer buried deep inside his mind, where she couldn't touch them and rip them apart. Kadaj thought that those memories might be where his sanity was stored, and he wanted to cherish that. It was the one thing he protected mightily. The one thing he would not allow her to take.

His freedom and his existence were not his, after all, so he would cherish what he could. Archer's smiling face. His laugh. The feel of his hands. The weight of his emotions, never voiced but always known anyways.

He thought of his brothers, Loz and Yazoo, led down this path because they wouldn't let him slip into darkness alone. And he sincerely hoped that their enemies had been kind enough to grant them mercy. Kadaj wouldn't dare say it aloud, but he hoped that the President, Sephiroth, and everyone else brought them down. Perhaps it was the only way to be free of her curse. A part of him wished he didn't have to drag Loz and Yazoo with him, but they were as stubborn as he.

It's enough.

Jenova's voice slithered into his brain, cool and calm, but nonetheless completely invading. Kadaj jerked at the sudden assault, and his cycle responded to the motion, nearly careening from the path. He curled his fingers tightly around the handle, stopping the awkward motion.

My son, it is enough. Here is enough.

Drawing in a deep breath, Kadaj inclined his head. “As you wish, Mother.”

And just like that, he skidded to a halt, tossing gravel from his tires and causing a stirring of dust. He didn't even bother to kick the stand. He allowed the stolen motorcycle to topple over on its side, another abandoned toy, and walked away. Souba still hung at his side, gently slapping against his side. Mother was tucked close against his chest, his fingers curled around the slim box. It almost seemed to pulse in his grasp.

This was his last moment of sanity, Kadaj realized. The last time he could claim to be Kadaj and not one of Mother's mouthpieces. He could already feel the pieces of himself being whittled away, and tried desperately to cling to a small part of him. Mother wormed her way inside of him, like an infectious disease a thousand times worse than the Geostigma.

He is coming, Mother assured him, practically preening with pride. And a very tangible buzz ran the length of the box. My son is coming.

Kadaj was too weak to tell her any different. His strength – mental at any rate – had completely expended. For months he had fought her, subtly resisting her call, clinging to his freedom. But why fight against the inevitable? Jenova was not to be refused.

Her darkness pulled at the edge of his conscious. His fingers tightened around the box. And in the distance, he heard the rumble of Sephiroth's cycle.

That's right, she purred, an imagined stroke of clawed fingers down Kadaj's spine. You are mine.

And Kadaj believed her. That was when the darkness took him, cresting over the back of his senses before overtaking him completely.

He idly hoped, before all that was Kadaj sank into the deepest recesses of his mind, that something like the afterlife actually existed for puppets like him.

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To his utmost surprise, Kadaj was waiting for him. Sephiroth narrowly avoided the brat's abandoned motorcycle, screeching his own to a halt. Odin rumbled beneath him as he watched Kadaj, one foot pressed against the ground. The other man, in turn, watched him, eyes utterly empty of expression.

Without removing his gaze from Kadaj, Sephiroth switched Odin off and dismounted, reaching for the Murasame in the same moment. It comforted him, oddly enough, to be able to hold the sword again with his usual strength. There was no flash of pain, or pulling of muscles. The Geostigma was well and truly gone.

But why was the other man just standing there, clutching the box to his chest and looking at him blankly?

No, not empty. Sephiroth recognized those eyes, the cat-like emerald gems that gleamed of something from another world. He recognized the malicious intent in the half-smirk.

“Jenova,” he hissed, fingers curling tightly around Murasame as he approached.

Kadaj's lips pulled into a wider smirk and a flicked a hand through his hair. “You look less than happy to see me, child,” Kadaj's voice claimed, but it wasn't Kadaj behind the words. Sephiroth wondered if there was even anything left of the teen.

“Should I be?” he retorted, shuddering despite his every attempt not to. The very idea of Jenova slithered down his spine, making him recoil with horror. He didn't even know which was worse – his memories of Hojo and the man's foul deeds or the knowledge of the power Jenova held over him.

There was a slither of sword through leather and he watched as Kadaj/Jenova drew a sword, twin blades jutting from the same hilt. An odd weapon, but Sephiroth recognized the potential in it. His soldier's mind instantly categorized strengths and weaknesses. He would have to be cautious.

Something pressed on his mind, the dark and slithering presence growing stronger. Sephiroth squared his jaw, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the hilt of the Murasame. He needed his sanity. He clung to it. He thought of Cloud, of his recently healed arm. He thought of Tseng, left behind, and Denzel, begging him to come home. Sephiroth couldn't afford to lose it here. He couldn't.

Kadaj tilted his head at him, green eyes sharp and focused. “You've lost my gift, Sephiroth. Did you not enjoy the Geostigma?”

He stilled, echoes of pain shooting down his back, forcing him to remember the crippling stench of the Geostigma. “.... gift?”

“Or punishment.” Kadaj shrugged nonchalantly, his poison-green stare focusing on Sephiroth with the sort of intent that radiated Jenova. “You are mine, child. You do not belong to these humans. You belong to me.”

Sephiroth worked his jaw, sucking in a stuttered breath. He shook, trembling so badly that he could barely grip his Murasame. Jenova was there, seeping into all the cracks of his badly mended armor, trying to find the chinks in his heart. She leeched into his brain, clawed fingers taking hold. His fingers tingled, and something bled into Sephiroth's vision. Black and red and grey, covering everything. The heat of a fire banking against his face, cackling in his ears.

“I belong to no one,” he gritted out, telling himself that he believed it. That his determination and resolve were stronger than her madness. That he wouldn't create another Nibelheim for her. He wouldn't.

He could feel it, pulsing through him. Pressing at his eyeballs, pouring into his body. His vision wavered, Kadaj's silver hair blurring, the sight of the hideous black box filling Sephiroth the core with revulsion. He hated her. And all he could see was Jenova, that body sleeping within its glass cage and yet somehow smirking at him. Those dead eyes that seemed to bore through him.

“Least of all you!” Sephiroth snarled, and he didn't think. He didn't allow rationality to pierce the haze that his emotions produced. He simply reacted.

He lifted the Murasame in hands that had regained their strength, and blindly rushed forward. Gravel crunched beneath his feet, his colored hair whipping in the wind. He caught a glimpse of Kadaj's smirk as their blades collided with a resounding clang, strong enough that Sephiroth felt the reverberations in his arm. This boy, this child, was easily a half-foot shorter than him, and yet he held his own against Sephiroth's strength. A true project of Hojo's scientific manipulations. Just like Sephiroth himself, a monster.

Their blades screeched along each other with every inch gained or lost. And Sephiroth's body trembled, shaking violently. He felt his heart trying to escape from the cage of his ribs, thudding loudly in his ears. His breath a sharp series of pants.

Kadaj pushed forward, his blade scraping along the edge of the Murasame. Sephiroth shifted his weight to counter, but Kadaj abruptly pulled back, whirling away. Sephiroth moved to attack, but Kadaj's sword flashed out and Sephiroth was forced to dodge, the edge of the odd blade ripping through the cloth covering his arm.

Sephiroth sucked in a heaving breath and brought up the Murasame, exchanging several loud and jarring blows with Kadaj. How could a child be that strong! It was unnatural.

Just like himself.

Green eyes flashed and Kadaj snarled. “You side with the pathetic humans!” he shouted, voice approaching a Jenova-shriek, the words dancing inside Sephiroth's skull. “Why?”

“I am human,” Sephiroth returned, and he damn near believed it.

He was human, Zack had told him again and again. Tseng was sure of it. Denzel looked up to him. Even if he didn't belong, he was human. Even if his father was Euphraim Hojo, he was human. He made his own choices!

Kadaj's hand sliced through the air, leather glove a black blur of madness. “You're better than they! You're my vessel!”

Her presence slithered through him like a black sickness. Trying to take him over just as she had done Kadaj. The boy who was just a boy, and too much like Sephiroth had been for his own comfort. He was trapped by her deceit, unable to break free from Jenova's poison. Did Kadaj want his own life as well? Did he have someone precious waiting for him? Something precious to cling to? Sephiroth didn't know.

He couldn't let her have him.

Sephiroth growled, a bestial sound of rage. “Get out of him!” he demanded, swinging the length of the Murasame in a wide arc, forcing Kadaj to block and backstep quickly, foot nearly overturning on a larger piece of gravel.

The child laughed, regain his balance with a dancing step that was too graceful to come from anyone without Jenova's genes. “He obeys so well, my puppet does,” Kadaj said, but it wasn't Kadaj's words. It was Jenova's through and through, his sword catching the dim flash of sunlight. Gleaming off the black box he still carried in one hand.

Anger flashed through Sephiroth, not for himself, but for this boy who had probably only ever wanted to live. Who had only wanted his own life. Who had survived being under Hojo's thumb only to find himself in Jenova's mad embrace. A boy who was so much like him, like looking into his own eyes years and years ago.

Sephiroth growled, his blade snapping through the air. “He's not yours either!” he shouted, fighting for more than himself. Or maybe it was echoes of himself he pulled Murasame for.

Their blades met with a resounding howl, locked together. Sephiroth felt the sweat trickle down his back, his hands shaking violently. Somewhere above him, the sound of whirring blades traveled to his ears, stirring the air. He chanced a glance upwards, catching sight of a WRO helicopter steadily flying their direction.

He didn't need more than one chance to guess who was aboard. And inwardly, Sephiroth cursed their foolishness. This was his fight!

Kadaj noticed as well, his pale lips twisting into a sneer. “Interfering whelps,” he snarled and tore away from the bladed deadlock.

He thrust one hand towards the helicopter, Souba still tight in his grip, and the glow of materia quickly surrounded his fingers. Power gathered at the tips, crackling along the edges of his skin, and it didn't Sephiroth long to figure his intentions. The helicopter was a perfect target there in the sky, easy to aim for, easy to destroy.

Sephiroth roared and dove forward, whipping the Murasame through the air, aiming for that oh-so-precious box that Kadaj clung to. The other man twisted to avoid, but Sephiroth was too fast, and he clipped the black object, sending it crashing out of Kadaj's grip. Attention safely diverted from the helicopter, Kadaj let out a cry of rage and lashed out at Sephiroth with the magic he had called, slamming a fistful of fire into the former general's shoulder.

Heat and burning, the odor of scorched fabric and hair and skin. Sephiroth choked on his next breath, momentarily drawing back as he cast Heal after Heal, trying to chase away the lingering sensations of being burned. He heard the whirr of helicopter blades through his desperate casting, and caught a glimpse of the copter as it veered away, hopefully out of the line of danger.

A body slammed into him from the side and Sephiroth went down in a tangle of limbs, the Murasame skittering out of reach. Kadaj was panting, growling like a wounded animal as he threw a vicious punch that Sephiroth merely absorbed, grappling with the boy's too-thin arms. He tried to throw Kadaj off him, but Kadaj was stronger than he appeared, holding on tenaciously.

Fingers dug into his burnt skin and Sephiroth howled, whipping his body to the side and throwing Kadaj from him. He sucked in a breath, pain rippling through him as he peered through a rising dust cloud. Kadaj was slowly rising to his feet, shaking his head as he stepped forward, retrieved black box in hand. A strange feeling of dread flowed over Sephiroth, covering him from head to toe in a wash of shivers.

“I will show you,” Kadaj began, his voice a strange growl that seemed more bestial than human. He lifted his hand, swiping the back of it over his chin where a blood trail had leaked from his mouth. “Just how much this child is mine.”

Sephiroth backed away, never taking his eyes of the youth as he blindly reached for the Murasame, a feeling like spiders skittering across his skin filling him with apprehension. The fingers in his brain dug in deeper, and he curled his fingers around the Murasame, comforted by the solidity of it.

To his horror, Kadaj opened the black box marked BIOHAZARD and actually stuck his fingers inside, pulling out a glowing, throbbing mass of something that Sephiroth would recognize even without eyes or ears. One couldn't mistake the aura that roiled off it, one that stank of Jenova and destruction, of madness and desolation. And Kadaj clutched it close to himself, tossing the empty box away as if it were mere trash now that he had hold of the creature within.

Time slowed, Sephiroth knowing that he couldn't let Kadaj do whatever he planned to do, but unable to stop it. He moved forward, blade raised, but Kadaj looked at him, smirked at him, and his eyes flashed malevolence, no trace of the boy within them. No, there was only her.

And then he pushed that glowing, seething mass of corruption at his own chest. Sephiroth skittered to a stunned halt, his stomach heaving as black tendrils suddenly jutted out from the mass, curling towards Kadaj like black smoke. Pain flickered across his expression and he stumbled, body bowing as he trembled. And laughed, loud and mocking, shrill and shrill, until the sound rattled in Sephiroth's ears.

He swung the Murasame and Kadaj raised his head, looked up at him, and smiled. There was a flash and Sephiroth couldn't stop the blow, his sword colliding against something equally sharp and metallic with a shattering ring. And when the light faded, he was left looking into a mirror from several years past, madness banking behind envenomed green eyes, a familiar smirk, and long lengths of silver hair.

He looked at himself.

Sephiroth was so startled he actually backtracked several paces, dragging his sword with him, left gaping at the ghost of madness past. The Murasame dangled useless in his hands as he stared, watching as the person who was once Kadaj but was now somehow Sephiroth lifted a gloved hand, raking it through his hair.

Only it was him before he had been given another chance. Body armor and leather and hair past his waist, still that gleaming silver. The length of the Masamune, sharp and bitter in the dim sunlight. Pale skin, aristocratic features, a Sephiroth that Sephiroth himself had been trying to deny. The one that had bowed to Jenova's every whim, that had killed his very best friend, and destroyed someone else's hometown because he couldn't take the truth. The weak Sephiroth who was somehow always stronger when he lingered in the back of Sephiroth as he was now's mind.

“You... how...?” For the first time in his life, Sephiroth found himself appropriately speechless, unable to manage a single coherent statement.

Other-Sephiroth smirked, Jenova gleaming darkly behind his pure green eyes. “This is who you are meant to be,” he said, and Jenova echoed in each word. “Not that pathetic creature you call yourself now. But this. My child.”

His hands shook; he couldn't make them stop. Not even as he forced himself to raise the Murasame. “What do you want?” Sephiroth demanded, tearing the words out and tossing him at the Other in front of him. “What do you want?” His shout echoed around the emptiness of the land, rattling through the hills.

And the Other just smiled at him, wind whipping at his hair. “You should be asking yourself that, Sephiroth. We wanted the same things once, didn't we? Since we are the same.”

He hated the truth that rattled in the Other's voice and Sephiroth ground his teeth together, pain spiking through his mind. “I'm not--”

“Oh yes, Sephiroth, we are.”

There was a blur, a flash of light, and then the Other was there, in front of him. Sephiroth barely lifted his own blade in time to block the blow, his limbs feeling like jelly beneath him. Every time he looked at his opponent, it was like fighting a mirror, seeing himself, what Zack and Cloud must have seen back in Nibelheim. He didn't know how to face it.

Clang! Screech. His boots sliding through the ground. The Other laughed mockingly, his voice sounding so much like Sephiroth's own and yet, eerily different.

“Don't you remember?”

Sephiroth groaned, the Other breaking through his guard and ripping a gash through the outside of his right leg. The scent of blood filled the air and he rolled to avoid a random burst of magic, something mixed and deadly.

“We wanted revenge. For our pain. Against those that ignored us. And Mother gave us that power.”

His own voice, laced with another's, washed over and through Sephiroth. Accusing and implying, demanding so much. Sephiroth lifted the Murasame again and again, hissing when the Masamune snuck by him once again. He flinched, the blade streaking by his cheek and cutting a thin line through his flesh.

He stumbled and the Other pressed his advantage, driving Sephiroth back with a violent push of magic, straight at Sephiroth's chest. A burst of ferocious wind thrust into him, knocking Sephiroth off his feet. He flew backwards and slammed into the ground, striking his back on several large rocks, hard enough to knock the air from his lungs.

The Murasame tumbled from his hands, skittering a few feet away. She pulsed in the back of his mind, crooning seductively. Reminding him that he was weak as a human. If he'd just take her back, he would have the power again. He would have the strength he needed.

The Other lifted one hand, beckoning to Sephiroth who hacked, struggling to catch a breath. He smelled his own blood as it leaked from his many wounds, limbs lifeless and useless beneath him. And the darkness grew stronger, coaxing him with whispers. Telling him it would be so much easier if he just surrendered.

“Come and join us,” the Other purred, circling around Sephiroth who hauled himself up on shaky limbs. “We can destroy everything together, just like before. Bathe the world in blood and fire.”

“That's not what I want!” Sephiroth argued, hands clenching against the dirt, rocks poking against his skin, helping to ground him. He wasn't that kind of monster; he wasn't!

“Isn't it?” the Other smirked, his tone cajoling as he dragged the Masamune through the dirt, holding no respect for the powerful weapon. “Deep down inside, can't you just hear Mother's voice. Don't you want the same thing she wants?”

Sephiroth sucked in a breath. “She's not my Mother,” he snarled, glaring heatedly at the circling man.

The Other came to a sudden halt, eyes narrowing in disappointment. “Then who is brother?” He sneered, whipping the Masamune through the air and forcing Sephiroth to roll to dodge the powerful blade. “That woman who gave you over for testing?”

Sephiroth sprang to his feet, and twisted his body blocking another violent swing with the Murasame. But his injured arm wouldn't hold the blade as well and it only deflected the blow, sending it skittering off to the side. The Other was much faster and he slashed, catching Sephiroth in the side, cutting a thin gash that immediately dripped blood.

The Other snarled, violence and madness banking behind his eyes. “Or would you find family anywhere? In that wretched woman. In the father who performed experiments on his own flesh and blood? Who violated--”

“Shut up!” Sephiroth snarled, the words torn from his throat, his breath a sharp, ragged pant that rattled in his lungs.

And the memories came, flashing one over the other – pain, oh kami, the pain. Stop, stop, stop. Make it stop. It hurts, he wants to scream. To vomit everywhere. Hands bruising on his hips. Blood slicking down the back of his thighs – and Sephiroth screamed. “Just shut up! You don't know anything!”

He couldn't find the strength to block the next blow and Sephiroth tumbled downwards, far weaker than his past-version of himself. He sprawled against the ground, agony flashing through his body, more Jenova poison than physical pain. Boots crunched over gravel as the Other approached, a sneer twisting his lips into something no longer human.

“These humans are all the same,” the Other hissed, and he kicked Sephiroth, forcing the air out of his body. “Your family, your true family, that is us, brother. Not those wretched maggots.” The Other crouched over him, hair a silver curtain around him. “You belong with us.”

The blade came down before Sephiroth could dodge, the Masamune flashing as it drove right through Sephiroth, pinning him to the dirt. He howled, gritting his teeth as the Other twisted the ancient weapon, grinding it in his once undamaged shoulder.

He looked up the length of the blade, his former self on the other end of it, just like he had been in Nibelheim. Sephiroth half expected to see and feel the flames rising up around him, ash and smoke thick on his tongue. Burn it to the ground. Destroy the monsters. This is all you are. Why didn't anyone save me?

“I belong to no one,” Sephiroth ground out, his fingers locking around the thin blade even as he strained to reach for the Murasame, just a few inches beyond his reach. But the rebuttal felt weak, even to him.

He was falling faster, fading into her. Jenova was within him, smirking with her painted lips, sensing his weaknesses and sliding in through them. Her hands sank into his strings, pulling him like a puppet, gaining entrance through the chinks in his armor caused by memories he'd uselessly tried to abandon.

“I'm not... I...”

He should just give in, give up. Why was he even fighting anymore? What did it matter? She would never let him go. It was a futile struggle.

“I want to...”

What? Live? Protect them? Protect who? Their pain, their sorrow, had been caused by his existence in the first place!

Sephiroth wasn't what he believed himself to be. He wouldn't ever be anything more than her creature, than the soldier ShinRa made him. Than the child Lucrecia had abandoned. Than the creation Hojo had violated and destroyed.

“Sephiroth!”

He froze, eyes wide, recognizing that voice. Zack? He shouldn't be here; he wasn't supposed to be here. Even so, it sounded faraway, through a tunnel, the light on the other end. And a chasm divided them.

“You bastard, don't you dare!”

The Other smirked down at him. “See how much easier it is,” he crooned, Jenova and his own voice mingling until they were one. A single siren. “Remember who you are, Sephiroth.”

“I know who I am!” he argued, but Sephiroth faltered.

Did he? Did he truly know?

She said that I have to learn patience and just wait for you to come back. Because you will if I wait long enough.

Denzel. Why did he think of Denzel now? The boy would be so much better off without him. He deserved a better hero.

“To be strong just like you. So I can protect everyone. Even you.”

Protect him. It was almost laughable, were it not for the determination he had seen shining in those eyes. Denzel thought Sephiroth someone worthy of him, and were he not a child, Sephiroth would have informed him of the truth long ago.

“And all you have to do is abandon them.”

A cold like nothing he had ever felt before cascaded over his body, completely overriding the pain and the heat of his wounds.

“Leave them to their deaths. Let these humans suffer their fate. Let me save you.”

Sephiroth went utterly still, body trembling as he enclosed his fingers around the length of the Masamune, feeling the blade cut into his palm. Abandon them? Turn his back on everyone he had bled to defend? On his best friend, his lover, Denzel, the others he had promised Cloud he would protect?

They flashed through his mind, touching briefly, just a blink of memory. Zack's laughter and Denzel's promise. Tseng's understanding gaze, his gentle touches. Aeris' grief. Vincent's sorrow. Yuffie's forgiveness. Could he cast that all aside?

His eyes closed briefly, something swelling inside of him. Something that had nothing to do with Jenova and her madness, and everything to do with himself. His own thoughts and wants and actions, his own decisions.

“You're coming back, right?”

He couldn't do it.

Sephiroth's eyes snapped open – more grey than green – and he surged upwards, letting his body slide along the length of the blade despite the pain, his fingers finally closing around the Murasame's hilt. Blood spurted out his back from the wound, but Sephiroth ignored it, dragging his blade back towards him. He was rewarded with the stunned look in the Other's eyes – flexing between stages, green and cat-like, poison and stone.

“I'm not that weak anymore!” Sephiroth shouted, and it actually sounded true to him, like shackles breaking off his body, tumbling to the ground.

He swung the Murasame, catching the Other in the side, driving him backwards. The Other hissed in pain and jerked backwards, taking the Masamune with him. It ripped free from Sephiroth's body, making him feel dizzy from the pain, but Sephiroth endured it. He stumbled to his feet, clinging to the Murasame as though it were his only lifeline. Dizziness knocked at his skull, but he couldn't stop. Not anymore.

“We're not that weak,” he argued, and it sounded crazy but the words tumbled from him without any grace. Was he talking about himself? Was it the past? It didn't really matter.

“We don't need anyone to save us!”

He advanced, swinging the Murasame and the Other brought up the Masamune, blocking him uneasily, clutching his wounded side. For the first time, a look of fear flashed in the Other's eyes, only to be washed away by madness. The Other chewed on his lips, until they bled, blocking each successive blow.

The Murasame whistled as it cut through the air, swing after swing, heedless to the jarring pain attacking caused Sephiroth. Over and over, it was blocked by the Masamune, and the Other continued to fall back under Sephiroth's onslaught.

“I won't abandon them!” Sephiroth shouted, and the Murasame whipped through the air, crashing against the Masamune with enough force that it shook his entire body.

Their blades locked for a single, heart-stopping breath and then the Masamune visibly cracked, crumpling beneath the force of Sephiroth's swing. The Murasame broke through the Other's guard as though it were mere paper, driving the Other backwards, boots skidding in gravel. Blood streaked across the long blade, the Other stumbling as he struggled to breath, hacking up red-tinted fluid.

Sephiroth sucked in a breath, and it tasted strangely free and clear, full. “You are nothing more than my useless memories,” he said, whipping the blood off the Murasame and sheathing the blade. “I am not the creature I was then.”

His hand whipped out, gloved fingers curling in the Other's leather coat and pulling him closer until they were face to face, mere reflections of one another. His other hand slammed against the Other's chest, palm against familiar territory. He called up every Cure and Heal in his arsenal blending them together with a particularly nasty fire, until the magic thrummed in his fingers. And then he promptly shoved the ball of conflicting energies into the Other, thinking to burn the Jenova out of him.

He hoped there was something left of Kadaj to save.

Sephiroth caught acid-green eyes, meeting them evenly, pouring hatred into the Jenova he could see screaming curses behind them. “You are the one that's not needed.”

The Other gasped, pain flickering into his expression, and then those eyes focused on Sephiroth, eerily clear. “You will regret it,” he gasped, voice blurring, sounding like a mix of Jenova and Kadaj – one crying out in despair, the other begging for guidance. “I won't be forgotten, child. You are...”

Whatever it planned to say died on the end of the next cough, blood flecking his lips. And the Other bowed over, going limp. Sephiroth had the choice to either catch him or let him fall, and he followed through with the former, the body in his hands strangely light.

The shattered hilt of the Masamune dropped to the ground with a clatter as the Other hacked, crumbling. He appeared to melt, a black mist rising around his body and before Sephiroth's astonished eyes, the vision of himself vanished to be replaced by a blood-spattered, pale Kadaj who collapsed against him. Sephiroth struggled to catch the boy, dropping to his knees as the warm body clung to him. Looking up at him with eyes clear of madness, confused and full of regret.

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He felt as if were coming up from air after being buried under tons of water, gasping and gulping for breaths, each like a stolen blessing. It burned in his lungs. Kadaj desperately searched his mind, looking for that dark presence, but he couldn't find it anywhere. She – that creature – was gone.

He peeled open his eyes, and looked right into Brother's eyes, dirty and blood-stained, but filled with concern. “Nii...san.” Even his voice came out a pained croak and Kadaj coughed, something shifting wetly inside of him.

He had the vague notion that he was dying. Or maybe he was already dead and his mind had yet to catch up to his body. He certainly didn't feel alive, except for the pain, and he trembled so violently he thought his bones would shake apart.

“Is she gone?” Sephiroth demanded, his words barely piercing through the fog that seemed to surround Kadaj's senses.

He felt disconnected from reality, his body floating in a mire. And he just knew, this was death creeping up on him. Well, all the better then. If she was gone, then he was free. Even if...

“She'll come again,” Kadaj answered instead, fearing that it might be the truth. “She always comes. She never stops.” Like a voice in the back of my head, a song I can't forget the words to. “Never.” He coughed, and dully looked at the blood that emerged. He should probably be more alarmed by it.

Kadaj was just resigned.

His eyes closed of their own accord, and he was glad for it. He couldn't see Brother's face anymore, unable to properly interpret the expression there. Sadness and... regret maybe. Kadaj didn't know. He was too tired. Too weak.

Sephiroth said something, but he didn't really hear it. He worried about his brothers, Loz and Yazoo. They couldn't be dead yet. He still felt them out there, somewhere. They were alive.

Magic washed cool and gentle over his skin, something like a Cure only a lot more potent. It thrummed through his body briefly, before fizzling out again. Nothing to be done for the wasting away, as though Geostigma had swallowed him whole.

“My brothers,” he murmured, struggling to cling to consciousness. “Don't kill them.”

“Kadaj--”

“They were just doing what I – she – wanted.”

Cold, so cold. His body breaking down around him. He heard something in the distance, like blades chopping through the air, and the sound of feet approaching. Someone shouted, and his heart thought he recognized the voice. It might have been his name.

Kadaj wished he could have seen Archer one more time. It was a struggle to recall his face, lost to the rest of his slipping memories, but he remembered enough. Well, it was better for Archer to forget him anyways. Those times were just passing dreams. He wanted to believe Sephiroth, but it seemed too good to be true. Human? Not anymore. Not after her poison.

She was still there, a tiny part of her, squirming inside of him. Jenova would grow in power again, she would find a way to wheedle to life and take control. Kadaj was sure of it. Like a parasite, greedily devouring its host, she lingered.

Kadaj...

He stirred, the voice calling him to lacking the seductive lilt of Jenova. It was a voice he could not personally recognize, yet it thrummed through him with familiarity. Beckoning and soothing, inviting peace. Washing away the pain that wracked his body, even more than the warmth of the arms that held him.

He opened his eyes, the warmth on his face warm and soothing. He saw Sephiroth, but even more, just past him, he saw someone else. Blond, blue eyes, spiky hair. He knew that face, even if they had never met while he was alive. He knew enough from the images that mo-- Jenova had shown him – Cloud – their forgotten brother.

Cloud watched him as though no one else was there, his eyes the same color as the clearing sky. He held out his hand, just like he had before when Kadaj had encountered him earlier on the road. Something shone in Cloud's gaze, something like forgiveness and Kadaj reached, his gloved hands outstretched towards Cloud.

“Brother...”

And the first drop of rain fell gently on Kadaj's forehead.

***************

a/n: Just a teensy cliffhanger there. Not too bad of one, I would guess. Initially, I was not proud of this chapter at all. It took forever to write. But on re-reading it for editing purposes, I actually like it. So, I hope you did, too!

The next chapter is coming soon, I promise! It just needs editing.

For those of you following this on my homesite as well, I've recently updated a bunch of the character information and so on. Check it out! I'll be updating it sporadically in the upcoming weeks, catching up to all the new characters and stuff I've forgotten.

Thanks for reading! I look forward to your comments!