Paper Tiger Burning

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, and voice actors.




I knew I was clinging to her but I didn’t care. Long after Eldon dropped us off and we settled into Aerith’s apartment, I stayed as close to her as she would allow. The vision of her corpse, stiff and frozen, kept hitting the back of my eyes. I’d never wondered what Cloud had done with her body but now I knew.

I had killed her. I had ended her life, stolen it from her. The corpse was my doing alone.

Right now she shared her couch with me. We lay stretched out together, my back wedged into the cushions. She lay on her side facing me, her head resting on my shoulder. The soothing touch of her hand as it caressed my chest kept me in present day. I twined my fingers in her hair, relishing her softness.

Everything about her seemed soft. I’d remarked it to myself before, but this evening it seemed so poignant an observation. Her body and her manner, both soft. Her emotions and her eyes? Soft. The way she touched me, like I was made of something precious, soft.

She forgave me. She forgave me for what I’d done to her; I saw it in her eyes when she looked at me. She didn’t fear me, she didn’t carry resentment.

I wanted to touch her like this all night. It reassured me to feel her, made me believe I connected to something more precious than I had a right to align with.

“Sephiroth?” Aerith raised her head to look at me, her green eyes shining. “I’m here and I’m alive. Stop thinking about my old body.”

“I can’t help it,” I confessed. But her quiet voice did comfort me. “It’s my fault I saw it; I can’t avoid thinking about this.”

“You’re torturing yourself,” she argued softly. “And for nothing.”

“I deserve more torture than that,” I said, feeling neither fatalistic nor dramatic, just swamped by reality. “But I’m enjoying this, lying here with you, knowing you’re alive.”

Aerith sighed. I felt her hand spread out over my heart. “You should deal with this as it’s natural for you, but don’t let my dead body grow more important than my live one.”

“I won’t.” I inhaled her scent, smelling the trace of Holy Ones oil under her clean, natural musk. “Your live body is very important to me.”

Blushing, Aerith ducked her head a little. “Sephiroth,” she protested, but I heard her pleasure in my tease.

“Aerith,” I said back.

“Does anyone else know you’re a terrible flirt?” She asked, pulling my hair good-naturedly.

“I don’t think so,” I answered. “I employed the art occasionally in diplomatic settings, but everyone knows that sort of situation will come to nothing.”

“You didn’t even kiss anyone while being diplomatic?” she teased.

“Never for diplomacy.” I smiled at her. “The exchange of saliva is very personal to me. I consider it more intimate than sex.”

“Really?” Aerith scooted up a little bit so she could see my eyes better. “Why?”

“Because it isn’t necessary; it’s a voluntary intimacy unrelated to procreation.” Feeling playful for the first time in days, I tapped her lightly on the nose. “However, I did think of procreation when you kissed me, I have to admit that.”

She blushed a second time. “Will you…kiss me now?”

We both stiffened as the sound of footsteps came down the hall.

“Cloud,” Aerith said. “I recognize his steps. I guess I won’t get my kiss anytime soon.” She sat up, sighing. “I wonder what brings him here so late in the evening?”

“Cock-blocking,” I muttered.

“That’s really, really unkind,” Aerith said, but her twinkling eyes betrayed her humor. “He doesn’t even know you think of me that way, and he’ll probably have a stroke when he finds out.”

“So, I should tell him?” I asked leadingly. Seeing blood squirt out of Cloud Strife’s nose would amuse me.

“No, not yet, not unless we’re forced; I don’t think he can handle it, truly I don’t.”

“He must at some future point,” I said. “I have no intention of lurking around. Shin-Ra won’t always own me.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Aerith went to the door and peered out the view hole. A second later she opened the door just as Cloud prepared to knock. “Hey,” she said. “Come on in.”

“Cameras disabled again?” I asked brusquely, upset that my calm, unbelievably sweet time with Aerith had to hold. She was the only source of real pleasure in my life.

“They’re out permanently,” Cloud said, shutting the door behind him. “All over the building, actually. Whole security system is down. I thought you did it.”

“No, I didn’t.” I wondered what this information meant. Either Rufus had pulled the cameras as a courtesy to me in light of his sister’s offense, or someone else had.

“Well, every camera has a broken lens, like someone just walked through with a blade and stabbed them all.” Cloud shrugged. “Wiring ripped out, too, for good measure.”

“We must have been gone when it happened,” Aerith murmured. “So it wasn’t Eldon.”

It made me uneasy. I considered taking Aerith away. Rufus wouldn’t have destroyed the cameras; he would have removed them.

“I came by to tell you that Elmyra will be at Seventh Heaven the day after tomorrow,” Cloud said. “She’s bringing Marlene and Denzel to visit Barret. I thought you might want to see her.”

“I’d love to, but it’s too risky,” Aerith said, pre-empting my negative response. “I could get her killed. I could get all of you killed.”

“You aren’t worried about killing General Mayhem, though, are you?” Cloud asked, his expression tight with displeasure.

“I’m worried about Sephiroth too, of course,” Aerith answered, her brows lowering. “But I have to stay somewhere, don’t I? And Sephiroth is very capable.”

Cloud sighed. “Did Vincent come by?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah. He had a cup of tea and left soon after,” Aerith said. Without thinking, apparently, she sat down on the couch, her body touching mine.

Cloud looked at her. He looked at me. I leveled my gaze into his, daring him to voice what he thought. His hand tightened before flying to his back. Before he had his sword off the swing clamp, Aerith put her arms in the air. “Big guard,” she murmured.

Cloud’s strike rebounded after only grazing my temple.

“Don’t,” Aerith said, standing up. “This is my apartment and I don’t want violence in here.”

“You swore a blood oath that you wouldn’t hurt her,” Cloud growled, pacing before us. “I would think that extended to putting a claim on her. She’s too good for you, you son of a bitch!”

“I’ve no doubt,” I said, still not moving from my position. “But a smart man quickly claims a good woman. It’s the way of life.”

“You-.”

“Cloud,” Aerith said sternly. “You can stop anytime now.”

“Aerith, are you really letting this…monster have his way with you?” Cloud gestured to me as if I might be a pile of steaming offal in the street to steer clear of. “Are you really letting him have you?”

“Not yet.” Aerith said quietly.

Cloud seemed to deflate the tiniest bit. “Not yet?”

“Not yet,” she repeated. “And I’m not the one insisting on waiting, either.”

For a long moment he just stared at her. Then, without another word, he opened the door and strode out. The slam of his exit made Aerith jump and flinch. “That went well,” she whispered.

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

“I don’t care what you do with her,” I said, “just keep her away from me unless you want to be an only child.”

Rufus blanched. “You know she’s spoiled,” he said, trying to soothe me. He poured a glass of stiff liquor, downing it in one gulp. “Father always gave her exactly what she wanted and she’s not accustomed to hearing the word ‘no’.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not accustomed to having my words or wishes ignored, but not because someone handed me my success on a platter. It doesn’t matter; she comes near me one more time in anything other than a public relations campaign and she’s a memory. I don’t care who sees me do it, Rufus. She attacked me and attempted to rape me.”

“You can’t kill my sister,” Rufus said in a somewhat firm tone. “Firstly, she’s my sister. Secondly, neither you nor this company could recover from that sort of scandal.” He sat down, putting his hands over his eyes. “I’m just going to have to figure out how to control her, that’s all.”

“Then think fast.” I went for the door, disgusted. How like Rufus to attempt placating me over something grievous. “I almost snapped her neck in my apartment.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Rufus asked, sounding irritable. “By Shiva, it would have been less stress to have the deed done at once than to have it hanging over everyone.”

I turned to look at him. “My part-time conscience stopped me, actually, Rufus,” I said, thinking of Aerith. “However, I’ll consider a second attack beyond the reach of my restraint.”

“I’m beginning to think we put you back to work too soon,” Rufus shot back. “You’re acting erratic. I get reports of how you talk to yourself, and I know you’ve been indulging in Turk behavior.”

“I don’t think I’m being overly erratic to carry a decent conversation, even if I must resort to carrying it on with myself,” I said, smug that my craziness campaign had accomplished something. Rufus thought he had a powder keg on his hands instead of a well-behaved paper tiger. “As for the Turk behavior, I assume you mean the dangerous drugs and the over indulgence of alcohol?”

“Go report to Hojo and we’ll talk,” Rufus replied. “I want a clean report for your mental health before I consider letting you just kill my sister because she wants a lay from you.”

I smiled. “Fine.”

I walked for the labs. Hojo had to work today even if I didn’t. I’d see how responsive he was to bending a report to my favor. It didn’t really matter. Report or not, clean bill or not, Sheila would die if she ever came near me again. Let Rufus play his little games. I was tired.

I found my father sitting in front of a mass of papers, his brow furrowed in concentration. He didn’t even notice me entering his office. I looked at his scarred forehead. Underneath my handiwork dwelt tired lines, the lines of a man older than his years.

A bottle of pills sat by his left elbow on the desk. That mostly finished liquor bottle still sat where I’d put it days ago. His ashtray overflowed with hand-rolled cigarette stubs. I hadn’t known he smoked; I’d never smelled it on him.

“He’s crazy,” Hojo muttered, paging through another wad of papers. “Stark, raving mad. Madder than me!” He gathered the work up in his arms and tossed it in his IN box. At that moment he saw me standing in his doorway. Briefly, he tensed. Just as suddenly I saw him relax. I felt sadness wash over me, sadness not of my own making but his. Fear too, lurked behind his eyes. But, he greeted me. “Hello, Sephiroth,” he sighed.

I shut the door. “Hi, dad,” I returned, delighting in his automatic flinch.

Hojo drew in a deep breath, as if preparing himself. “What can I do for you today? Sheila make another drugged-up pass at you?” He took a syringe from his pocket and put it on his desk. “I thought I wouldn’t see you until tomorrow.”

“I was hoping you’d draw blood,” I answered, surprising myself with the idea. But, as hot as my temper currently ran, it might prove wise to let Hojo draw a measure of mako and Jenova out of my system. “I’m feeling…irritable.”

Hojo blinked. “Alright.” He got up. Smoothing his lab coat, he put the syringe back into one of the voluminous pockets. “When did it start?” He thrust a thermometer in my ear and held it there a moment.

“Oh, halfway through my talk with Rufus,” I admitted.

Hojo paused before looking at the thermometer reading. “Do you feel hot?”

“I feel like an inferno.”

“Your temperature is consistent with all previous readings,” he murmured. “Must be your blood pressure.” He wrapped a device around my arm. “Relax, if you can.”

After a minute he took the constricting band off. “Your blood pressure is a little high,” he said. “Come to the auxiliary lab with me and we’ll take care of it.”

“Why not your main lab?” I asked, opening the door.

“Because it isn’t mine anymore, it’s Lucas Havars’,” Hojo answered, his tone bitter. He preceded me out, impatiently flicking his hair back. “And I don’t want him taking an interest in you.” He swung around, pinning me with his cold, black eyes. “You understand what I mean by that, boy? You stay away from Lucas Havars. Don’t answer his questions or submit to any of his tests.”

Surprised, I just looked at him.

“Promise me,” Hojo demanded. “I know how you are about your word.” He fairly vibrated with anxiety. His pale flesh contrasted with the black shirt he wore and even rivaled the white of his lab coat.

I considered refusing him. It would obviously spin him up if I did. Still, his aura of worry gave me pause.

“Alright,” I said quietly. “I promise you, Hojo, that I won’t allow Havars to run any tests upon me.”

Hojo slumped. “Good,” he murmured, turning back around. His relief hung in the air like ozone after rain.

We entered the secondary lab. Hojo flipped on a cylindrical machine as he walked by it. “I’m not storing your blood here anymore,” he announced. “All samples are destroyed after use.”

Feeling a bit disquieted by Hojo’s matter-of-fact announcement in light of his rather manic habit of collecting random bits of me, I took off my coat and draped it over a chair. Today I’d worn my old ensemble. I intended to not ever go back to a suit. Fuck Rufus.

Hojo swabbed my wrist with alcohol, poising me over a vat. “A pint should do it,” he muttered to himself. “I’m glad you listened to me about the blood drawing, Sephiroth.”

Saying nothing, I merely watched him slice me open.

“Any headaches?” Hojo began scribbling in his infernal clipboard.

“No.”

“Any sudden, violent mood swings?”

“Only to kill Sheila Shinra and her meddlesome brother.”

Hojo snickered. “Oh, well, nothing then,” he said, marking on the paper again. “I wish I had the Cetra back. Her readings would go a long way to telling me the accuracy of my methods.”

“In what way?” I asked.

“Oh, just reading comparisons,” Hojo said. “I brought the two of you back in very unconventional circumstances. As far as I know I’m the only one to use a matrix core memory with raw DNA samples for such a purpose.”

“And that means what, exactly?” I asked, curious.

Hojo rolled his eyes. “Sephiroth, I brought the two of you back from the dead. When I brought your meat bodies into breathing life, your souls followed. Surely that is noteworthy?” He didn’t wait for my answer, but instead clamped my skin together for my supernatural healing abilities to prompt. The blood he poured into the cylindrical machine.

He washed the vat out thoroughly, going so far as to pour a sterilizer into it before dumping it in a trash bin. “How do you feel?”

“Less aggressive,” I admitted.

“Average of once every two weeks,” Hojo muttered, noting his figure. “I don’t like the frequency of the peak. There must be something I can do to lower the build-up of Jenova cells. What a prevalent, prolific bitch she turned out to be.” He turned and put a flashlight to my eyes, appearing to observe the way my pupils dilated. “I remember when Gast and I found her. Both of us were so convinced we’d discovered an Ancient. By the time we knew better it was too late.”

“You went on with the research,” I pointed out.

“Of course I did.” Hojo shot me a sour look. “Sephiroth, you of all people should know that knowledge is power.”

“Knowledge is damnation too,” I replied. “Ignorance is bliss.”

“I don’t believe that and neither do you,” Hojo scoffed. He held out his hand. “Squeeze.”

I clamped down. In seconds I heard a bone snap in Hojo’s hand. He ignored it. “Harder,” he demanded.

I broke every bone.

Hojo, gasping, shook his hand free. “How about sex drive? Normal?”

“I suppose,” I answered, thinking of the flower girl.

“Appetite?” Hojo used his left hand to notate.

“Voracious.”

“Hmph.” Hojo released a breath through his nose. “Until I know how to better control the Jenova cell replication, you might have to half-starve yourself.”

“I don’t want to,” I replied. “I had enough of that while young.”

“You’re still young.” Hojo shook out his injured hand. “You’ll live a long time. The Cetra will too. I wish I knew where she is.”

“If wishes were chocobos,” I said.

“Spare me.” Hojo prepped a needle. “I’m giving you a multi-vitamin; you seem to be iron poor.”

“Why do you even care at this point?” I held my arm out. “I’m never going to be the weapon you intended, not now. I’m a paper tiger.”

Hojo slid the needle into my vein. “It was never so much you being a weapon as being perfect,” Hojo answered, not looking at me. “And paper burns.”