Oblivion's Beginning

As always, a bit of a disclaimer. Obviously I don't own any of the characters or settings, thank the wonderful people at Square -Enix for that.

My first stab at a Fan Fic, reviews welcome. Like it or hate it, I don't care but please be mature in your critiques.

Other Questions/comments, feel free to contact me at DarkSongDesires@aol.com

On with the story.....

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Oblivion's Beginning
Chapter 1

Two weeks had passed since their epic battle in the crater and Sephiroth's destruction and still he had nightmares. The evil that was that abomination still infected his mind and the blue eyed blonde feared that voice would forever haunt him; calling to him in his sleep or in moments like this when all the world was silent. The night breeze woke him from his reverie sending a chill along his spine. He looked up just in time to see a shooting star, a rather bright one at that. A sign of hope, perhaps good luck? He gave a rueful smile at the thought before closing his eyes once more and letting sleep take him. He was camping on the outskirts of the ruined city headed to no man's land or wherever his feet might carry him. The others had gone their own ways, a few invitations to join them but it just wasn't his style. Maybe someday.

Miles away that shooting star actually made it to the surface of the planet but it would leave no crater. Instead there was only a bright flash of light and left behind a man. He stirred slowly as his whole body ached from some exhaustion that he couldn't remember or even fathom. His clothes, if he'd had any, were gone but that wasn't the only thing missing. Green tinted eyes glanced about hopefully, but even as his surroundings came into focus he couldn't place where he was. The grasslands seemed to go on forever and there was nothing indicative of society or people as far as he could see. Nothing, except the exquisite blade that lay beside him. Even in the fleeting moonlight the blade shimmered, calling out to him with an unseen pull. He reached for it and started to stand as dexterous fingers curled around the blade's hilt. The stranger was quite a sight to see; long silver hair blowing in the breeze as he studied the weapon. However, questions still remained. Who was he? Where was he? And what the hell had happened to leave him in this condition? He couldn't remember anything.
"Well then, I suppose there's only one thing to do,” he spoke to the night sky as he shouldered the blade and started walking, determination set upon flawless features. He had to find his answers; his soul would never rest without them.

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A year had passed since that night and he was still not any closer to finding his answers. Dressed now in casual pants with heavy boots and a sleeveless shirt he carried the blade across his back and tired his long hair out of his eyes with a simple strap of leather. Rumors abounded, whispers sprang up whenever he entered a town but he'd yet to find out that could give him any information. He shouldn't be too surprised though, they were all small villages with no more than a couple hundred people in each; he'd be surprised if any of them had ever been a few miles from their homes. Time had proven to him that while his mind could not remember, his body hadn't forgotten how to protect himself and he'd proven the victor in a number of encounters with would be killers; everything from bandits to creatures that fascinated him in their strangeness. Were they natural? Did someone create them? It was becoming more frequent that his travels produced more questions than they answered.
In the morning, he'd set out again but tonight he camped in the grassy fields.
The mountains were approaching quickly and by afternoon tomorrow he wagered he'd reach the foot of them or at least get very close. Sleep came quickly as it always did, but it was never restful. The nightmares came soon; violent fleeting images of battles he couldn't recall. Shouts and screams of anguish and pain turned to anger as the images faded to a single face. It was the visage of a boy in his early twenties with hair the color of the sun and eyes that burned with blue fire. Who was he? He never found out for the boy never got to speak. The same creature always tore him away; lashed at his limbs until he was nothing more than a bloody ruin. Then came the cackling laughter, cold...shrill and it pierced through his dreams to wake him every time. He sat up panting in a sweat whispering the one word that always lingered afterwards. "Jenova..."

Morning came as always and he was once more on his way. By noon as expected, his footsteps carried him to the crest of the next hill he found one more, small town nestled in the valley by the mountains. One more ray of hope, one more trip into the unknown to search. "Maybe this time...maybe," came the whispered prayer as he headed down. The town seemed quiet enough at first, though he couldn't tell what it's livelihood might be. Off in the distance he heard the shouts of children playing as he approached and as he got closer the sounds of combat. It was not the ringing of steel but the clashing of fists as a young woman called out commands to her pupils, four youngsters who were gathering around practicing their unarmed combat. "Most interesting." Perhaps it was these few spoken words that drew her attention from them upon him, perhaps it was merely her warrior's senses but she turned to face him and the carefree look of joy faded from her face replaced by sorrow, hatred and fear.
"No! It cannot be...he's, he's dead!" The shock lasted only a moment before she turned to bolt into the town, herding the children in front of her. "Barret! Barret, where the hell are you!?" Her screams and sudden retreat were lost to him in their meaning but she obviously recognized him, or at least thought she did so there was no option left but to follow her, though at a conservative distance using all caution.

He hadn't gotten far when the dark haired female returned, this time with a companion; a large dark skinned man who appeared to have some sort of firearm mounted on his arm. It was difficult to say who was angrier as they approached but the shots fired in his direction cleared that up quickly. He jumped out of the way diving into a roll and pulled the blade as he came up. "I have no quarrel with you, but I promise I will not hesitate to defend myself if you persist in this attack."

"I'll send you back to hell you fucking bastard!" Cried Barret as another volley of shots was fired. Some he managed to deflect with the blade, others required some rather fancy footwork to avoid, but his trouble had only just begun. As the shots subsided he turned to find himself faced with the female who landed a rather painful punch to his abdomen and aimed one at his jaw, which he managed to duck. Wonderful, now he had a fight on two fronts. Retreating with a back handspring he called upon the magic in the stones he'd found to hasten himself, he was going to need the speed to keep dodging them both. Just in time for her next onslaught he met her flurry of kicks with rapid blocks with the flat of his blade and forearms, pivoting to sweep her off her feet before rolling out of the way of a launched grenade whose shockwave left both fighters momentarily stunned.

"Godamnit, Tifa! Stay the hell out of my way, I'm trying to kill him, not you!" Tifa, so that was her name, he'd remember that if they all survived. She rushed at him with another round of impressive punches and kicks, all which landed against cold steel rather than hard flesh. Finally an opening, and he took advantage of it, slamming a boot into her abdomen and slashing across her face with that great blade. Her head would've been cut in half had he not used the flat of the blade, instead she lay stunned and possibly unconscious as he raced for Barret. Halfway there he disappeared, leaving the man cursing furiously and firing harmlessly in the air, only to reappear behind him setting that keen blade on his shoulder against his throat.

"Do you yield?" Calm, but stern. He was tired of their little game though he had to admit they'd given him the best fight he could remember.

"To you? You gotta be fucking kidding me, never! We killed you once, you son of a bitch, you'd better believe we'll not rest until we do it for good this time!" Now that was promising, if rather disappointing. Finally he'd found someone that could answer his questions, but it would appear they were going to be rather difficult to persuade.

"So you would rather die than answer a few simple questions? That doesn't seem like a very smart thing to do. Let's try this again. Answer my questions and I shall leave you and your friend be. Now, why did you attack me?"

"What? You gotta be kidding? Why did we attack you? Are you out of your fucking mind? Quit screwing around, Sephiroth, we both know you're going to kill us both anyway." Sephiroth, hmm that was a word that was almost familiar. A name, now he had a name. Well it was a good start anyway even if it had stirred up more questions.

"Unlikely that I would be foolish enough to kill the only ones I've found that can help me. You know who I am or at least, you know who you think I am...that's hopeful." He pulled the blade away from Barret's neck and sheathed it. "Sephiroth, yes, I like the sound of that."

Barret just turned, dumbstruck. Had he just heard what he thought he heard? More importantly, had Sephiroth just ended this fight leaving them both alive?
Something was wrong, dreadfully wrong and boy did he ever have a bad feeling about this, though he wasn't going to get to muse over it long; he heard Tifa's groans as she started to come to and raced over to make sure she was all right. "Tifa, hey Tifa...are you all right?" He knelt by her side, keeping an eye on their opponent as he helped her to sit up.

"Yeah," she said, rubbing her cheek from where she'd been hit. A thin line of blood ran across it and it was already turning a dark purple from the impact. "I think so, anyway. Did you get him? Is he dead or did he run away again?"

"Neither. You ain't going to believe this but he's still standing right over there. Something's wrong, really wrong. I don't think he remembers jack shit about what happened."

"You're kidding me, oh Barret please tell me this is some kind of sick joke? How could he not remember?"

"I don't know, but sure as this world I don't think he does. Hell, he even asked me why we attacked him and sounded sincere. Look, he's still standing there waiting patiently on us when we both know damned well he could've vaporized us. I'm telling you, something ain't right." He helped her to her feet and gestured towards Sephiroth, who was standing arms crossed over his chest waiting somewhat patiently, though rather lost in thought.

"I don't think we should be telling him anything Barret, at least not until we've found and told Cloud. He's going to be livid." This was all nice and lovely, watching them have their little discussion but it wasn't getting him anywhere. He waited for another moment and then started towards the town. If they knew who he was, someone else in there surely had to. However, it was not meant to be just yet as the pair once more bolted after him, skidding to a stop right in his path.

"Just stop right there, ain't no way in hell we're letting you into Nibelhelm."

He just rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Haven't we already done this? I mean really as much as I enjoy a good fight, it only gets in the way of what I truly seek."

"And just what exactly is that, Sephiroth? World destruction? Revenge?" For someone who had just rather unceremoniously gotten her ass kicked she wasn't afraid of him in the least.

"Answers my dear Tifa, wasn't it? That is what he called you, yes?" gesturing towards Barret as he spoke. She looked a bit shocked, unsure if he remembered her name because of their previous encounters or if it was because Barret had spoken it. He head was still a bit fuzzy and she couldn't recall if in the battle it had come up.

"What sort of answers?"

"The only sort that make any difference to me and you've already been kind enough to answer one. I don't imagine you can know how very frustrating it is to not know one's own name."

"Not know one's own name,” she repeated softly under her breath. That was beyond astounding and surely Barret matched the surprise apparent on her face.
"You really don't remember what happened?" She almost wanted to believe him, but considering their past that was difficult to say the least, if not impossible.

"Would I bother to be trudging about the countryside asking such questions and making a perfect fool of myself in doing so if I could remember? Honestly." This conversation was starting to get tedious very quickly. He was beginning to regret not killing them, but then if he did, who would answer his questions?

"No, I suppose not...” By this time, Barret had stormed off seething into town to collect Marlene. If Tifa wanted to stay there and converse with the maniac so be it, but he was having none of it. He was going to find Cloud and they were going to finish this, once and for all...again. "Look, I...don't know about this but you'd better get out of here while you still can. Barret is going to find Cloud, I'm sure of it and then all hell will break loose and I'm not sure I trust you either. Memory or no....” She left it at that, heading off in a jog towards the town, she wasn't going to let him go alone, they'd been friends and partners far too long for that.

Well, so much for getting all his answers. He didn't follow them into the village that would just provoke another fight and it wouldn't be worth it. He'd gotten a name, several in fact and that was more than enough to rekindle his hope. He turned his steps away from the town now, his thoughts wandering towards the battle. They had killed him? But how could that be if he was still alive now or maybe they'd only thought they had. The question still remained though of why they had fought in the first place and what in the world could he have done that would've provoked such reactions. He didn't exactly feel very evil and from what he'd seen of them, they didn't seem it either. Then again, neither was he very inclined towards anything that could be called good.