Inner Turmoil

***A/N: If I thought my last story was difficult to write, this was hell. In truth, I prefer it that way. Please let me know what you think of this piece--what it made you think or feel. Every little bit of commentary or criticism helps me to better my writing. That being said, I hope you enjoy.***

***Cloud***

The sulfur burned my eyes and the ash choked my lungs, threatening me with unconsciousness. I nearly stumbled as the ground shook, leaning onto my sword for balance. I didn't care about the conditions around me. I paid no heed to the frantic shouts behind me. The others yelling for me to come away. I barely felt anything as I stared into the widening makou-tainted eyes, unable to look away. For a moment, I felt the world stop turning, time ceasing to flow. If I tried, I'm sure I could have peered into the very fabric of his soul—those green portals told stories I had thought long forgotten. Stories I wish I could forget.

The day I had passed my trials in SOLDIER I was beyond myself, proudly wearing the trappings of a first class as a badge of honor from that day forth. I had been so proud—pride I had seen reflected in the eyes of General Sephiroth. My teacher. My mentor. My lover.

The day I had first shared his bed I had been so nervous. We both had been, in a way, but I had never been so sure of anything in my life. I had never given myself to anyone that way, before or since. That evening had been magical, the passionate hours spent intertwined, a slice of heaven.

I pivoted, the memories flooding back to me in a rush. Fighting alongside the silver-haired man years before, all for the glory of ShinRa. I lifted my sword eagerly in each and every battle, desperate to fight for the cause. Honored to fight beside my General. I had believed in something then. I championed the directives of the president gladly, eating up every impassioned speech, line by line. Memorizing every note of the blaring fanfare. My life had meaning. I had a purpose. And most of all, I had him.

A shoulder to cry on when the horrors of war had proved too much. A support. A confidant. A friend to turn to when I felt I couldn't go on. Sephiroth had been all of those to me and more. There were no secrets between us; I felt I could tell him anything. And I knew he would never judge me, no matter what crossed my lips. Every night that I lay in his arms I found a solace so sweet that every other pleasure in my life would pale in comparison. I was living total bliss.

Then his treatments intensified. Makou. That glowing substance that ShinRa pulled from the ground with wanton abandon. The perfect, clean energy source. Was it clean when they pumped it into the General's veins week after week and, eventually, into mine? Makou changed people. The press and the doctors denied it, stating that the “miracle energy” was perfectly safe. I knew better.

I could feel the changes within my body, making my body stronger. But the toll on my mind far outweighed the benefits. I became more withdrawn, talking less and less, until one day I reached the point where I rarely spoke at all. Stress from battle, they told me. Then why did I feel like a different person? Could stress alone change someone so drastically? It couldn't, I knew. But I wanted to believe. I had to.

For Sephiroth it was far worse. Not only his demeanor changed, but his entire outlook on life. He became so detached that at times I felt I was sleeping next to a statue. He became cold, inhuman. Terrifying.

Tears filled my eyes as I remembered his laugh. That laugh of his that could always make me smile. His smile—the way it seemed to light up his face when he spoke excitedly about this or that while we laid in bed, his eyes shining with mirth. He had the power to warm anyone's heart, I knew. But that gift, too, had been twisted by the green poison.

Sephiroth could influence hearts still, but with fear, or terror, or uncertainty. The kind-hearted swordsman was gone. Even his sense of duty was shattered. And with that gone, mine didn't stand a chance. The day I realized he would never come back—that he could never come back...that day I knew the man I loved was dead. That day I stopped caring.

I moved through life without purpose, a wandering shade, bereft of hope. I didn't care who I worked for as long as I did something, anything to get my mind off of what had been. Off of perfect.

ShinRa. AVALANCHE. They were all the same to me. A paycheque... But...what was Gil when love was gone?

The Sephiroth who had rampaged through Nibelheim had not been the same man I had idolized in training. He was different. A man possessed. I had been staring at a stranger.

The man who killed President ShinRa wasn't the man I had given myself to night after night. He wasn't the man whose sweet lips I kissed each evening and every morning, preparing me for the trials of the day ahead.

That man had been tricked, fooled into believing a lie. Forced by his own genetics to become a killer without honor. A murderer. A monster. But how do you fight a lie that seems true on even the cellular level? How does the voice of an old lover penetrate the murderous fog that shrouds the mind of a madman? How can it?

And yet I wished I could have done something more. If I had seen the signs earlier I could have...things would've turned out differently—I know they would have. I would still be with him, living happily in Midgar. I would still be working for ShinRa instead of trying to take it down. I would belong. Life would still be perfect.

All too quickly things seemed to regain their normal tempo—the brief eternity in which I had stood, transfixed, had passed. The world would wait for no one, I knew. And how I hated it so.

The tears streamed down my face as I ripped the sword free, and for a moment I could see the old Sephiroth in those ivy eyes. The Sephiroth I'd loved. That I still loved. I stared back helpless, unable to move as I watched his eyes darken. Eyes that had once been so bright and full of life. Full of kindness. I sank to my knees, my frame shaking in anguish as the blood dripped from my blade. The bowels of the earth quaked, almost as if mirroring the grief I felt with every fiber of my being. Why did life have to be so cruel?


***FIN***