#epilogue teens

[lizzybeeee]

"And then it was over."

[souenkun]

I'm still taken aback by how the train station episode's conclusion looked so soft, in a sense (warm colors for the background and extra detailed shower of petals, matoba's earlier line animated from natsume's point of view where us viewers can only see the obscured side of his face, the gentle soundtrack paralleling a sad realization, and natsume's observation delivered so carefully)... it makes me think that this "vibe" could be such a nice build-up, specifically for these three miharu pages 💔

[bluecanvasshoe]

I Still Miss Someone

Chapter 4 of Everything Eats and is Eaten (Time is Fed)

platonic Red Dead Redemption x teen!reader

Summary: Acquaintances and feelings from times passed pop up again.

Warnings/content: angst, descriptions of grief, alcohol poisoning mentions, descriptions of alcoholism and underage drinking (don't drink underage!! i do not condone this!!!!!), big reader backstory drop, talk of death and self-deprecating thoughts

Word count: 2.1k

Title from the song 'I Still Miss Someone' by Johnny Cash

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

a/n: backstory drop!!! wow!!! i had a lot of trouble writings this one, so apologies if it's not great; i’m sick and stressed out from school. i promise we'll have more interactions with people in the next chapter! also........ farewell Guy :¨(

ps… late merry christmas and happy holidays! ❤️

want to be added to the taglist? drop a comment!!

--

“John?”

You asked with a tone of incredulity, grinning nonetheless.

“Goddamn. Look at you! You’ve gotten taller!” He laughed in that raspy voice of his, pulling you into a hug, and patting your back. 

“Why’re you here?” You asked, leaning away a bit with a smile. You were much more on his level, able to face him without craning your neck. 

“Well, Abigail, Jack and I have been uh, movin’ around. We ended up here.”

“Abigail and Jack? They’re here? Where are-”

“Well, not- not right now.”

“...What?”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head a bit. 

“Yeah, uh, Abigail and Jack aren’t here right now. I kept causing trouble with the law, so she took Jack and left. She won’t come back until I’ve sorted myself out.”

“Abigail… left you.”

“No, at least, not for long. I’m looking at a place down near Blackwater-”

“Blackwater!?”

Your chatter had drawn some attention, his coworkers turning their heads and looking up from their tasks. Your vision almost seemed clearer after seeing John; if that made any sense at all.

“Our bounties have been lifted, probably, and the property is far enough away. It’ll be fine, kid. …Anyways, what are you doin’ here?”

You grinned, “I think I found Charles.”

“Charles Smith?” John repeated, his eyes wide.

You nodded, crossing your arms. “In Saint Denis.”

He let out a breath, his hands on his hips. “I always wondered where he went. How’d you know?”

Your confidence faltered, and you grimaced lightly.

“Well, I’m gonna be honest, uh, I found a passage in the newspaper. It just… it included a bit about someone who sounded like Charles.” You replied sheepishly, the faults in your plan suddenly seeming very clear.

John cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “So, you aren’t sure?”

“Not- not really. But I’m still gonna head on out there, just to… make sure I ain't passin’ up a good opportunity.”

He nodded slowly, the smile returning to his face as he patted your shoulder. “Good luck then, kid. I really wish I could go with you, but… I’m working towards getting Abigail and Jack back here at the moment. After the gang and Arthur, things have been… difficult. I’m trying to keep out of trouble, get myself back on my feet. Look, I’ll join you in your search as soon as I can. The place I’m looking at in Blackwater, it’s called Beacher’s Hope.”

You nodded along, the reminder of the gang and Arthur’s subsequent passing sending a pang of hurt to your heart. You understood why John wasn’t coming; the lead you had wasn’t solid and you were taking a huge risk. Yet despite that, it hurt nonetheless. However, you were smart; you understood why going alone would probably be a bit safer.

See, you could take said risk. You’re younger, childless, and with much less to lose compared to John. Making dangerous, riskier decisions is easier when you don’t have much fiscal or sentimental value to yourself or your name; losing money or getting yourself into stupid situations is easier to get out of when you have more potential and life than someone older.

“I understand, I-” “I got you a new bedroll!”

Guy shouted, walking back to you with a crooked grin. His teeth were yellowed, lips cracked. 

He walked up with a rolled-up piece of fabric. John raised an eyebrow, smiling in amusement as he looked from you to the eccentric old man. “...thank you kindly.” you nodded, taking it from him. 

You turned back to John, giving him a lackluster smile. Your mood was quite dampened; both from the fact that John could not join you and the reminder of Arthur.

“I suppose I’ll see you around, Jim,” You slurred the new name, catching yourself before you said ‘John’. “I’ll write to you about updates.” 

“‘Course, kid. I’ll cya. It was great seein’ you again.” The older man pulled you into a brotherly sort of hug, patting your back once or twice before letting you go. 

With a lonesome kind of reluctance, you pivoted on your heel and walked back to your horse waiting patiently for you.

“Would you need a ride home, Guy?” you offered the man, voice faltering when you turned to see he was walking back to the house. With narrowed eyes followed by a sigh, you shrugged your shoulders and returned to your trek towards the hitching posts. 

A few workers looked up briefly before continuing their work, sheep bleating and crows cawing in the distance.

You strapped the new bedroll to your horse’s saddle, giving him a pat on the rump before hosting yourself onto him. 

—

The trees that surrounded you seemed, yet again, endless. It was suffocating in the dark, and repetitive in the light.

The gang, for some reason, plagued your mind. As much as you tried to ignore the nagging, it kept returning. You wanted nothing more than to go back to the gang, even if it was hard back then as a young teenager. 

You wished you screamed a little harder, kicked with more force, hadn’t discarded your gun in fear. Maybe the lawmen wouldn’t have caught you.

Or, maybe, if you didn’t even get found by the gang, things would be better. No, scratch that, things would definitely be better. Maybe you could’ve been taken in by a nice family instead of a group of outlaws. 

But things would never really be different, would they?

See, your mother died during childbirth, and your father passed soon after; the details of which had never been disclosed to you. 

Thus, you were taken in by your grandparents. You hardly remembered the time leading up to their deaths, but the memories you did have were clearer than most. Your grandmother hardly remembered you in the days leading up to her passing; to her, you weren’t her granddaughter. Your grandfather was taken by consumption, or Tuberculosis, as the doctors called it.

When they were gone, your uncle and his wife were the only two left in the family. You were stricken by grief, a child of nine who had spaced out far too much and carried a deep distrust in many due to a conclusion she’d drawn long ago. Said conclusion being that she was a bad omen, something made obvious by the fact that she’d taken a life even before her first breath.

It took a year to finally become comfortable with your aunt and uncle, but it didn’t take long for their relationship to become rocky soon after. Florence never envisioned herself as a mother, the responsibilities of being one to a child who demanded so much aid dragging on her mind. It wasn’t her fault and it wasn’t yours, but it couldn’t be helped.

Your uncle, Ernest, could hardly stand her nagging, as he called it. He changed, becoming irritable and annoyed by her upset. 

They argued a lot. Over you, over finances, over small things that turned into screaming matches.

They divorced, and you never heard from Florence again. Ernest turned to alcohol, hiding his feelings at the bottom of a bottle.

One snowy morning, you woke up in an empty, quiet house. After an hour of mucking around, the town’s sheriff knocked on your door. He delivered the news of your uncle Ernest’s demise: alcohol poisoning in the wee hours of the morning.

You were alone, and you didn’t want to be sent to the orphan trains or, god forbid: an orphanage. So, you took to a life of crime. That brought you to the gang.

And now, you’re here.

Alone again.

When Arthur died, the only news you’d heard of it was in the papers.

In the front of your mind, you’d say you understood Arthur’s death, that he wasn’t around anymore. However, these messages of understanding were laced with a parasitic sense of denial.

Then, you became irate; just like Ernest. 

You’d sneak whiskey from your foster parent’s alcohol cupboards, trying to stomach bourbon and forget your woes. However, they soon noticed the stench of alcohol in your small room and the dwindling supply on the shelves, landing you a harsh punishment and new rules. On top of that, you were reminded of the death of your uncle by Anne and David, your panic and fear being enough to dump the budding habit surprisingly early. 

Without booze, you’d beat yourself down in your room, sobbing night after night until you didn’t have the energy to cry anymore. Tears refused to fall from your eyes, and the most you’d get out were pathetic sobs into your thin pillow.

The process took almost a year, but things began to look up.

One day, you were sitting against a tree with a sketchbook in hand. Nothing came to mind and you lacked inspiration, so you turned your head towards the sprawling fields and oak trees.

Amidst your staring, a deer wandered into your line of sight. 

He stood, staring at you.

He was young from what you could remember from Charles and Arthur’s hunting lessons, but surprisingly not skittish.

You felt a sense of odd comfort wash over you, one of familiarity and yearning. It took a few seconds, but he soon wandered off.

This inner peace didn’t come from a deer looking at you a second too long, though. If anything, it was hard to explain; but the deer was relevant.

Arthur would take you out hunting, teaching about deer and other common game. They were scared, easy to frighten, and would run at the snap of a twig because you were looking for food, meat, a meal. You were a threat because you were their killer. Even since birth, death followed you. 

For some people, grief was something they never had to experience, but an experience they looked upon with pity and sympathy. In your case, it dragged on your mind nearly every day since childhood, coming and going in various forms.

But in recent years, things have been different.

Your stupid foster brothers laughed with you and watched you do things with awe. Anne and David encouraged growth and learning within you, and you began to be impressed by things you learned, no matter how small.

You were given a chance to become more.

They proved you weren’t a bad omen, because good things really did happen. You were able to be seen as a big sister, a role model. In your foster parents, you were seen as a soul saved from the clutches of despair. 

In yourself, you saw that things truly did get better. That you were capable of healing, of moving on. That you weren’t just a bad omen; that you weren’t one at all. Because if you were, why did the old farmer smile at you at the market? Why did the woman from town thank you profusely after you offered her a free product, and since then greet you happily every day? Why did your brothers hear your voice and come bounding down the stairs to talk? Why didn’t the deer run off immediately after seeing you?

Since then, the thought that maybe you weren’t unlucky or the cause of death helped you overcome the majority of your grief.

However, memories still haunted you and a feeling of yearning still gripped your heart.

You’d wake up in the morning, alone in a room. You wouldn’t sit around a campfire and joke with Sean. Lenny wasn’t around to read to you; you had to read to yourself nowadays. Ms. Grimshaw doesn’t tell you what to do anymore, and Karen wasn’t around to complain with you. Now, you go to town, alone nearly all the time. You’d see other people your age hanging out and wonder ‘What’s wrong with me’ because you miss outlaws more than you yearn for a normal life. 

You stopped asking yourself that question.

Because instead of that, you wondered what went wrong.

You still do.

–

You miss the gang.

The trees around you closed in on your mind, evergreen appearing black in the evening light. They isolate you from the outside, from the noise of the world. It was just you.

And maybe you aren’t an omen of death, but if you’re being honest, you once again feel stupid. A dumb plan to find someone who is probably dead, leaving your foster family, abandoning a better chance at life, and now finding yourself alone. And this time, no one’s here to listen.

You forgot how desolate the wilderness is. It’s calming by a lake, but right now, you can't help but get lost in your thoughts. Trees cast daunting shadows overhead and at the moment, a person to talk with would be nice. You miss hunting lessons and bad stew and stories told by people thrice your age.

You miss your bed and the fields. 

You’re cold and hungry; you miss fire stoves. 

You miss your family.

You still miss Arthur.

Taglist:

@gallantys, @justsomereaderwholikesanime, @shackspossum

[ecbsffharpc]

i want to drown him in a sink or something

[freddyloyd]

Marv.... what the hell

I am all for non-violent resolution, especially for the more street level conflicts, what I AM NOT for is leaving this poor woman and her baby with their abuser! How do you write this and think its a satisfactory conclusion??

[yuukei-yikes]

think kagepros ending is so perfect despite the totally insane story pace it holds the entire time. i especially love that they take a character like haruka, a side character whose misery came from not having the possibility of growing old, and make him the character that reflects what being an adult is like. as someone who never revisited kagepro because i never left, it felt a lot like the characters grew up with me sniff sniff especially my ultra faves the yuukei quartet who are rly the ones who end up as sorta adults when its over. its fun bc im a fail adult in my 20s you know. and its like.... whoa somehow my favorite characters are also fail adults now. that's crazy

[sephirthoughts]

Father: Verb

Epilogue (2 of probably 4)

Summary: 11 year-old WMD Sephiroth is assigned a new handler/bodyguard, named Vincent Valentine.

LISTEN I LIED OK. THERE ARE MORE THAN TWO PARTS TO THIS EPILOGUE I CAN'T HELP IT. a lot of people need to have their loose ends tied up and who am i to deny them? after this, there's a heavy one (mom needed her own entire chapter), and the fun one (for everyone else) will be last. i think. who knows, at this rate.

gratuitous sephiroth because he's beautiful

“You guys come from Nibelheim?” asked a shirtless, very suntanned teenaged boy, who had just carried in a crate of vegetables. “No? Oh, man, did you hear what happened over there? Earthquake opened up natural gas vents, blew Shinra Manor sky high. The Mt. Nibel reactor melted down, too. Town’s ok, but the reactor’s fucked. Lot of people out of jobs, now. They’ve been showing up here, all week.”

“Is that so?” replied the customer he was addressing; a tall, slender, extraordinarily handsome youth, with black hair and crimson eyes. “How unfortunate.”

“Know what I heard?” the first teenaged boy’s equally shirtless and suntanned brother piped up, as he carried in another vegetable crate. “I heard a bunch of those monsters they were making there broke loose, and that’s what did it. They say Shinra’s covering it all up, by claiming it was earthquakes and gas leaks and shit. But my best friend’s girlfriend is in the fourth infantry and she told him—”

“Alright you two, shut your yaps and get back to work,” a trim, middle-aged woman in an apron and sundress scolded, shooing away her gossiping sons, who rolled their eyes and stalked off, with their crates of vegetables. She beamed at the customer they’d been chatting to, as she unfolded a paper bag and filled it with the wrapped sandwiches he’d ordered. “That all for ya, honey?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the youth nodded. “Oh—and a chocolate chip cookie. Thank you, ma’am.”

The little blonde boy at his side reached for the oversized cookie, but the youth took it and put it into the bag, with the sandwiches.

“No more sweets till after lunch,” he admonished. “You can’t grow up tall and strong like me, on an all-cookie diet. Now give me your hand and don’t run off.”

The woman behind the counter smiled warmly, to see the older boy (brother she assumed, though they didn’t look much alike) taking such attentive care of the younger, and the little one minding him so well, holding his hand and doing as he was told, without fussing or making a scene.

Just then, the sound of a crash and two young, male voices arguing came from the back of the shop. She sighed, shaking her head. If only her two idiot sons were so well-behaved and thoughtful as those two. They must have a much better father.

Oblivious to the unfavorable comparison they’d created for the other two young men, the black-haired youth and the tiny blonde boy walked down the bustling street, hand-in-hand, till they reached one of the many nearly-identical stucco buildings, with terra cotta roof tiles, that were as common as sand, in this beach-resort town.

This particular one was a small house, that was rented to tourists by the week, and had the advantage of being almost directly on the beach and also close to the town center, where all the shops and dining were located.

“Ms. Strife, we’re back!” the older boy called out, as the two entered. “Take off your shoes, Cloud, we don’t want to track sand all over the place.”

“Boys, thank the goddess,” a young blonde woman said, from the kitchen table. She’d been sipping iced tea and flipping through a copy of Midgar Magazine, but as the two approached, she collapsed in her chair and flung her arm theatrically over her face, like a tragic heroine. “You’re just in time to snatch me from the jaws of starvation! Quick, quick, my roast-beef sandwich! Before I waste away to nothing but bones!”

“Mama’s being dramatic,” the little blonde boy informed the older one, pursing his lips. “Don’t give her any, till she says please and thank you. That’s the rules.”

“Ah, my cruel son,” his mother intoned, reaching over to capture him in her arms and tickle his ribs, while he giggled and kicked. “No use trying to escape, Cloudy boy! This is your punishment for betraying your poor, starving mother! Oh, thanks for picking up lunch, Seph. If you don’t mind getting your pa, I’d appreciate it. He hasn’t come out of his room, yet, and I don’t dare disturb him.”

“It’s alright. He hates the sun and he doesn’t eat, anyway,” Seph answered cheerfully, taking a seat at the table. “He’ll probably sleep till sunset.”

“Uh-huh. But he’s definitely not a vampire,” she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, as she set her wriggling son back on his feet.

“Vampires eat blood. People blood,” Cloud asserted, with a grimace. “Mr. Valentine can’t be a vampire.”

“Cloud is correct, my father doesn’t drink blood,” Seph confirmed, as he poured glasses of milk for himself and Cloud. “But he used to sleep in a coffin.”

“Disappointing,” Claudia lamented, through a bite of her sandwich. “I bet he doesn’t even turn into bats or explode in direct sunlight, either.”

Seph arched a black eyebrow. “Would you prefer he was a blood-drinking monster?”

“If he’d turn me into one, too. It’d be kinda cool to be a vampire.”

“Mama! Be good!” Cloud scolded, mortified by his mother’s laissez faire attitude toward joining the ranks of the undead.

“Tch, what’s the fun in that? Besides, if I was good all the time, you wouldn’t exist, my darlin’ little bossy-boots.”

Seph nearly choked on his sip of milk, and covered his mouth with a napkin, coughing and sputtering.

“What’s being good got to do with having a kid?” Cloud wanted to know.

“Nothing, baby, mama’s just being silly,” his mother replied breezily, ruffling his golden hair. “Alright, boys, I hope you dirtied up some laundry for me to wash, or I won’t have anything to do to earn my keep around here, before the boss wakes up.”

“You did laundry yesterday, Ms. Strife,” Seph pointed out. “We’re wearing the only clothes we’ve dirtied up.”

“What about your linens? Those must need a wash, right?”

Both boys shook their heads.

She slumped defeatedly. “Can’t one of you be a team player and wet the bed? Are you trying to make me obsolete?”

“My father doesn’t really expect you to be working, all the time. He mostly hired you so that I wouldn’t be lonely.”

“I know that, but…I’m just so grateful to him, for getting us outta that shithole town—”

“Mama!”

“Oops—I mean, that dirthole town. Anyway, I can’t ever repay your pa for giving us this opportunity. So I at least want to do everything I can to be useful.”

“You’re already doing more than enough, Ms. Strife,” Vincent’s deep voice said, from the archway, where he had appeared unnoticed by the group.

“Father!” Seph smiled, hopping up to throw his arms around him, as if they hadn’t seen one another in a week.

“Ah, well—ha ha. I just wish I could do more for y’all,” Claudia said awkwardly. “Seph looks after Cloudy all day, and aside from cooking dinners, I hardly have any housework to do. I feel like a regular bandit, taking what you’re paying me.”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Strife, I have more money than my father and I will ever know what to do with,” Seph assured her. “If we can use it for something that helps you and Cloud, and makes us happy at the same time, why not do it?”

Claudia raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you mean your pa has money?”

“No, it all belongs to my son,” Vincent said serenely. “Since I have been legally declared dead and have no wish to be declared living again, Seph is the sole heir and legal possessor of the family assets.”

“That’s right,” Seph put in cheerfully. “Plus, I emptied Hojo’s account before Shinra froze it, so I have all of my fake father’s money, too.”

Vincent nodded approvingly and patted Seph on the shoulder.

“I’m guessing there’s more to that than I want to know about,” Claudia remarked. “I was just wondering, why us? I mean, Cloudy ain’t even close to your age and I’m a high-school dropout who’s never been outta Nibelheim. There’s gotta be better companions for a couple rich, educated gentlemen.”

“Ms. Strife, do you believe in omens?” Seph asked. “Or portentous dreams?”

“Uh. I’m as religious as the next person, I guess. You’re not saying you had a dream about us, are you?”

“I am saying just that,” Seph nodded earnestly. “That day we first met, in the bakery, I had the strongest feeling that there was some fate between us. Then that night, I had a dream. A messenger from the goddess came to me, and showed me…a lot of confusing things, about the future. But amidst all the chaos, the thing that stood out most clearly was little Cloud, here. He is deeply important to the Planet, and it’s my goddess-given duty to act as his guardian angel. To protect him and help him, any way I can.”

This was all news to Cloud, who was staring at the older boy, with eyes as wide and round and saucers. He’d even stopped eating his chocolate chip cookie.

“It’s so strange you’d say that about a dream,” Claudia said, with a glance at her son. “Because…well, you wanna tell ‘em about it, baby?”

Cloud frowned and drew into himself, shaking his head.

“Is something the matter?” Seph asked, looking back and forth between them.

“Cloudy had a dream that night, too. He came running into my room, screaming about the town was burning down, and we had to get out of the house. Scared the tar out of me.”

As she said this, a look of pain flickered across Seph’s face, so briefly that no one observed.

“I ran to the window to look, but everything was quiet, just like normal. I told him it was just a nightmare, but he kept saying it wasn’t a dream. He insisted that the town was gonna burn and the boy with the silver hair was gonna fly down and save us from the fire, cause…uh. Cause you’re an angel. With wings and everything.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Cloud muttered sullenly, without looking up. “I wasn’t even sleeping.”

“I thought nothing of it, but then the very next day, there was that huge explosion at the manor,” his mother went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Broke windows all over town and shook our whole house. Then all those helicopters started flying over and a lot of big trucks came roaring through. People running by said the manor went up like it was full of dynamite. Cloudy was trying to drag me out of the house, to go over there, but it was too dangerous, and the soldiers wouldn’t let anyone anywhere near it, anyway. It was plain eerie the way it happened right after his dream, and all. I mean, the town didn’t catch fire, but it was damn close. They say rubble got thrown all the way to the old Lawson cabin, in the outskirts.”

Seph nodded gravely. “I’m glad no one from the town was harmed. It seems the goddess truly was protecting you.”

“You and your father, as well. Unless you think it was just dumb luck that you weren’t there, when it happened.”

“I don’t believe in luck. But, in any case, that’s my reason for having you two with us. I want to protect Cloud and take care of him, no matter what it takes. If that means helping you establish yourselves in a better place, with more opportunities than Nibelheim, then that’s what I mean to do. But we can talk about all of that another day. If you don’t object, I was planning to take Cloud to look for shells and beach glass.”

“Sure,” Claudia smiled. “I mean, as long as the boss doesn’t mind.”

“Father?” Seph prompted, when it became clear Vincent wasn’t aware he was being deferred to.

Vincent looked startled. “Hm? I’m the boss? When did we decide that?”

“You’re my father and Ms. Strife works for you. You’re literally the boss, in that respect.”

“I see,” Vincent said, slumping gloomily. “Then my first act as the boss is to tell everyone to do whatever you like. But don’t keep Cloud out too late. And if you get the slightest whiff of trouble, you call me. Do not engage. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Seph said dutifully. “Come on, Cloud. Let’s go change into our swimsuits.”

“Leave your dirty clothes on the floor, this time!” Claudia called after them. “I need something to do!”

“My son is…very spiritual, Ms. Strife,” Vincent said, once the boys had gone. “I hope his ideas don’t trouble you. If so, I’ll ask him not to say such things, in your son’s presence.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind at all. The goddess speaks to everyone in different ways,” she said, as she began to clear the few lunch things from the table. “So, when were you planning on telling me the truth, about who you two are, and why you’re on the run from Shinra?”

A little while later, Cloud and Seph were headed to the beach, hand-in-hand, with plastic buckets hung over their arms. Cloud was wearing bright blue swim trunks, with a yellow starfish pattern, and Seph was in black surf shorts and a white v-neck t-shirt.

He’d pulled his shoulder-length hair back into a low ponytail, and with his outsized height and visible muscle tone, he looked much older than fourteen. Cloud, however, was small even for a boy his age, and so they made something of an odd pair, as they strolled along at the surf line, stopping, ever so often, to pick up shells and colorful bits of sand-tumbled glass.

“Why’s your hair and your eyes different now?” Cloud asked, as they crouched to paw about in the wet sand.

Seph smiled at him. “Did you like them better, before?”

Cloud nodded.

“I’m sorry I changed them, then. But people are looking for me, and they’d recognize my silver hair and mako eyes, right away. I have to disguise myself when we’re in public, for now.”

“What’s mako eyes?”

“I have been regularly treated with mako infusions, since I was a baby.” Seph dispelled the crimson illusion on his eyes, and Cloud leaned close, to inspect them. “My eyes are naturally light blue. That green in the center is from the mako.”

“Why aren’t the black parts round, like other people’s?”

“I was just born that way,” Seph said, with a rueful smile.

He preferred not to explain to the child that, despite his purification by Chaos, the effects of Jenova’s cells on his body couldn’t be reversed. The damage had already been done, as it were, and so the related traits were permanent. Among these, were his slit pupils and silver hair.  

“Do they look scary?” he asked Cloud. “Like monster eyes?”

Cloud shook his golden head. “They look like cat eyes. Cats are nice.”

“When we settle down somewhere less temporary, would you like to get a cat?”

“Yeah! Lots of cats!” Cloud said excitedly, then his face fell. “But what if your pa won’t let us?”

“Don’t worry, I happen to know that my father likes cats. Even if he didn’t, he’d let me have as many as I wanted. He has a lot of paternal guilt, and I’m afraid it manifests in over-indulging me.”

“What’s paternal guilt?”

“It’s when a father feels bad for not being a better father, or for his child having had an unhappy life. None of what happened to us was his fault, of course, but he still blames himself.”

“Is that why he’s sad all the time?”

“Yes, partly. He has suffered a lot. But I’m doing my best to take good care of him and make him happy.”

“But you’re not supposed to take care of him. Grown-ups are supposed to take care of kids,” Cloud asserted.

“Don’t you take care of your mother, too?”

“Mm. Yeah, I guess so.”

They dug around for a while in silence, but for the roar of the ocean and the plunk of shells and glass into their buckets. When there was nothing more to be scavenged, they moved on, in search of another spot.

“What people are looking for you?” Cloud asked.

“Shinra. They are not nice people. But it’s nothing you or your mother need to worry about. There’s no one in the world who can hurt you, if you’re with me and my father.”

Cloud made a dubious face. “Not even soldiers?”

“Not even soldiers.”

“What if they have guns?”

Seph’s eyes flashed with bloodthirsty intent. “If anyone dared to use a firearm in a manner that threatened you, they wouldn’t live long enough to regret it.”

Cloud’s eyes went round and his mouth fell open. “You would kill them?”

“Yes.”

“Have you…killed anyone before?”

“Yes, I have,” Seph answered, matter-of-factly. “Does that frighten you?”

Cloud thought about this for a moment. “Well, why did you kill them? Were they bad?”

“Not all of them. I have killed and hurt people, who didn’t deserve it. I was very little, not much older than you are, now. When I couldn’t control my emotions, bad things happened, and people died. I didn’t know right from wrong, back then, because no one taught me. But I do now. Those bad things won’t happen again. Never. I’m going to protect people, not hurt them. I’m going to save everyone, this time.”

Cloud picked up a broken sand dollar and fiddled with it. “Did you didn’t save everyone before?”

There was an oddly mature pointedness to the question, that made the hairs prickle up on the back of Seph’s neck. “Cloud, do you ever…remember things that haven’t happened yet?”

The boy started to shake his head, then paused and turned it into a hesitant nod. “Mama says it’s dreams, but it’s not when I’m sleeping. And sometimes the things I remembered happen.”

“What kind of things do you remember?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Cloud, you can tell me anything. I promise, I will always believe you.”

“W—well, ok. I dreamed about…you, before I knew you. And then we saw you at the bakery. Mama already told you about the dream where you flew down to save us from the fire. But after that, I dreamed about you again. You didn’t look like you look, but I know it was you. You were big and tall, and you had a long jacket and long hair, all the way down to your butt. And you were burning everything and standing in the fire and…and I had to kill you.” Cloud burst out sobbing and threw his little arms around Seph’s waist, burying his face in his t-shirt. “I don’t want to kill you! I won’t do it! I won’t!”

Seph picked him up and cradled him tightly in his arms, rocking and soothing him, pressing kisses to his golden head. When the boy was calm again, he set him down on his feet, and crouched to be on his eye level. “I know what you saw was terrible, but it will never happen, I promise.”

“You believe me?” Cloud sniffled, wiping his pink-rimmed eyes.

“Of course I believe you. I saw the same thing.”

Cloud’s eyes went wide yet again. “You did?”

“I did. I think what we both saw was a memory of a different future, from before I changed everything. That was the future where I didn’t save everyone.”

“But it’s not gonna happen now?”

“No. The things we saw were real. Terribly real. But they’re not, anymore. I’ve broken the shackles of fate, from all of us. Now, we’re free to make our own destiny.”

Cloud gave a bewildered frown. “You talk weird.”

“I know,” Seph smiled.

“Your pa talks weird, too. Like he’s from a book.”

“Well, he’s an old man. He can’t help it. I’m just weird. Is that alright?”

“Mmm…yeah, it’s ok,” Cloud decided. “You sound smart, like a grown-up. But you don’t act all grumpy and bossy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Only, don’t get into the habit of assuming all grown-ups are smart. A lot of them are extremely stupid. Especially the grumpy and bossy ones.”

Cloud laughed delightedly at this, as Seph took his hand, and the two walked on, to seek out another spot for gathering shells.

“Do you think my mama and your pa will get married?”

“To each other? I certainly hope not. Then we’d be brothers.”

“You don’t want to be brothers?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Cloud said quietly, lowering his head to look at the sand he was kicking.

Seph squeezed his hand. “Don’t be sad. It’s not because I don’t like you. I don’t want us to be brothers, because I want to marry you, one day.”

Cloud gave a start and jerked it away, his round cheeks turning bright pink. “You want to marry me??”

“Yes. Not for a long time, though. When we’re grown up.”

“B—but I’m a boy! Boys can’t marry boys!”

“I think it’s good we got you out of Nibelheim, sooner rather than later,” Seph remarked, making a distasteful face. “Those kind of backward ideas seem to be epidemic in small towns, like that.”

“What’s a backwards idea?”

“A backward idea is one that relies on ignorance, prejudice, or blind adherence to tradition, to make a moral judgement, about something with no inherent morality attached.”

“Uh…”

“For example, the idea that two men or two women can’t be married. People like to say it’s wrong, but what is actuallywrong about it? Is it bad for a woman to love another woman and want to be her wife? Is it bad for a man to want to build a life and a family with another man? If it’s not wrong for a man and woman to do those things, why is it wrong for two men or two women?”

Cloud thought for a moment, then his face lit up, like he’d had an epiphany. “It’s not! It’s the same!”

Seph gave an approving nod. “Exactly. When you hear moralizing statements like that, never just accept them. Interrogate the idea and form your own opinion.”

“What’s interrogate?”

“It means to honestly ask yourself what you really think. If you can’t decide, ask someone you trust. Seek out other perspectives and information. Never take a right or wrong statement at face value.”

“Ok. If I can’t decide, I’ll ask you.”

Seph blinked. “Wait, me? You mean…you trust me?”

“Uh-huh!” Cloud beamed. “You’re my guardian angel. Even if you don’t have wings.”

He had to swallow against the aching tightness in his throat, at the pure, guileless sweetness of this innocent child. A child he remembered as a young man, looking upon him with the bitterest animosity, as he drove a sword through his gut—after Sephiroth had done the same to him. But…that wasn’t truly them. They would never become the mortal enemies, who drew one another’s blood in madness and hatred. Destiny was defeated. Their fate was their own to write.

“Cloud, can I tell you a secret?” Sephiroth said, leaning down to speak softly in the boy’s ear. “I do have wings.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY we all deserved a beach episode i think

next chapter

[andicalico]

imo the fact that hermie was born a teenager but also didn't know he was adopted implies that scam gave him false memories of having a childhood (and maybe he lost them/realized they were fake after finding out his true nature?? origin of the 'the man who stole my childhood' line and why hermie suddenly hates scam so much??? but i digress)*

which in turn makes me think he gave hermie's adoptive parents false memories of having raised him all his life. because 1) come on, it's scam and 2) i doubt they would've deemed it necessary to hide hermie's adoption from him if they'd adopted him as a full teenager

which IN TURN makes me think what if hermie's parents lost their memories of him after the original hermie died and then hermie2 comes 'back home' but his parents don't know who he is? there doesn't seem to be a trace he ever existed in this house, even? what are we thinking gang

[cyberstabbing]

this probably won't interest my followers, but if the tumblr tag system actually works for once and someone who likes tokio hotel sees this: i have the ebook versions of bill kaulitz's book Career Suicide in english! and swedish! so if anyone want me to send it, just let me know :]

[cha1cedony]

Just mouthed ‘aww’ to myself while writing about a grown ass man snoring. Mortifying. I need to explode

[risetherivermoon]

a little sketch dump of a bunch of grants, terry jr, and epilogue taylor & norm

[babacontainsmultitudes]

[just venting a bit into the void you understand you understand 😌] Lately I've been feeling very caught between "I have a lot of thoughts on Sparrow and Normal and all that with the ending and teen talk and feel like I need to get them out and voice them for my own piece of mind and resolution" and "I am lacking the strength and energy to actually sit down and write it all out and kind of really just want to fully move on to other things (AUs, fics, anything else)" but my brain can't seem to commit to either and that's quite frustrating cause it's just left me very restless. *Sigh*. Idk! Just needed to complain about that a bit ig, it's silly but this is what has been ailing me as of late.

[sephirthoughts]

Father: Verb

Epilogue (1 of 2)

Summary: 11 year-old WMD Sephiroth is assigned a new handler/bodyguard, named Vincent Valentine.

Hooray, first epilogue!!!! There are two because this one got a little heavier than I intended. Stay tuned for the second epilogue, which is the fun one!!

rating: teen and up

(prev chapter and ao3 linked at bottom)

When the first dawn of their new lives broke, they were lying together on the narrow bed of a cheap inn in Kalm, where Vincent had carried Sephiroth, after their flight from the Manor. Sephiroth’s face was buried in Vincent’s leather chest armor, which had returned with his human form, and his arms were wrapped tightly around Vincent’s narrow waist.

The boy actually hadn’t let go of him, since they arrived, not even allowing Vincent to go out and purchase food for him. He seemed to be afraid that if he let Vincent out of his sight for a single moment, he’d disappear forever. He’d eventually drifted back off to sleep, but if Vincent so much as stirred, he’d murmur in protest and constrict his arms, like a little python.

Not that Vincent had any complaints. He wasn’t even certain he was allowed this much happiness, as he lay contentedly, in the hazy twilight of early morning, listening to his son’s soft, even breathing. Every once in a while, he would lean down to press kisses to the top of his head, breathing deeply of his warm scent, reminding himself that this was real. That it was all over. That they were free and they were together.

Violet turned to yellow-gold, as the rising sun pushed lazy shadows across the floor, patiently herding them toward noon. Vincent was still holding his sleeping son, watching the fairy-glimmers of sunlight, that slipped in through the eyelets in the curtains, shimmer and glow as they were captured and refracted by Sephiroth's brilliant, silver hair. 

Sephiroth finally stirred and blinked about, blearily. “Vincent? What…what time is it?”

“Almost noon,” Vincent answered. “This is officially the latest you’ve ever slept. Congratulations.”

“How do you know what time it is? From the position of the sun? Is that a Turk thing?”

“I can see the clock, from here.”

“Oh,” he yawned. “Do we have to get up, now?”

“We don’t have to do anything. Stay in bed as long as you like. I figure you’ve earned about fourteen-hundred sleeping in days, since you’ve never had a weekend off, before.”

“You’ll stay with me, though, right?”

“I have nowhere to be.”

Sephiroth nuzzled his face back into Vincent, like a cat, and lay silent for a few minutes, before he looked up at him again. “Well, now I’m too excited about having a day off. I can’t go back to sleep.”

“Do you want to get up?”

“Mm, not yet. Can we just…lie here and talk?”

“Alright. What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“Yes, a few things. First of all, how did you know?”

“About what?” Sephiroth asked, though he knew very well what Vincent meant.

“About Chaos, your mother, where to find me, everything.”

Sephiroth peered up into Vincent’s face. “I…was possessed by time-traveling future versions of myself, who showed me all their memories from my potential futures. That’s how I found out you’d never abandoned me, at all, and Hojo had imprisoned you under the manor, while Shinra sent me out to commit war crimes, and be the poster boy for recruiting other innocent children into their SOLDIER program.”

“I see,” Vincent said, furrowing his brow thoughtfully.

Sephiroth blinked. “You believe me?”

“Yes. Why would I not believe you?”

“I guess, I expected some skepticism, at such a fantastic claim.”

Vincent very nearly smiled. “Seph, I’m the undead vessel of an ancient demon who can kill gods, and you are my superhuman son, conceived in a lab, using extra-terrestrial DNA. A bit of possession by time-traveling future selves seems the least fantastic thing about us.”

“But it wasn’t Jenova’s DNA that conceived me. You know that, right? It was introduced in the womb, to alter me, after the fact. My conception was purely human. I—I’m human.”

Seeing the boy’s eyes redden, Vincent wrapped him up tightly in his arms. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry. Of course you’re human.”

“You are, too. No matter what you think,” Sephiroth said, his voice muffled by Vincent’s cloak. 

Borne down by the weight of their mutual trauma, the two lapsed back into silence. For a long while, they simply lay in each other’s arms, listening to the birds chirping outside, and the people on the street below, going about their daily business. Sephiroth had never felt so much like a monster, so far removed from the rest of humanity, as when he was exposed to human beings, living their peaceful, mundane lives. That feeling was magnified, tenfold, now that he was free to live as he chose. Would he and Vincent ever have such a life? Could they? He hardly dared to hope.

“Your future versions,” Vincent said, drawing him from his ruminations. “Are they still…in there?”

Sephiroth shook his head. “No. They stopped existing, once we broke fate. I will not miss them. Living so many lives, all at once, was exhausting.”

“But you still have those memories? From all the futures?”

“Some. The futures my others came from don’t exist anymore, so most of the memories are fading quickly. But it’s not like I have amnesia. I remember that those things happened, I’m just losing the memory of actually having been there, in those times and places. The others wanted me to be free of fate, and live a life of my own choosing, not following their paths. But, a man choosing a path and one stumbling onto it may still wind up at the same destination. So, they left me with guideposts, to help me avoid the patterns of events, that led to that terrible future Lucrecia showed you, in her visions.”

“And you’re certain you can trust them?”

“Yes. But it’s not just because they’re me. That would be a foolish reason to trust them, since I know myself. I trust them because of the oldest one—my final version. He hardly spoke, but he was the strongest. When his body died, he won a battle of wills with the lifestream, and kept his consciousness intact. That was how he discovered the way to defy destiny and travel back.

“During his life, he overpowered and silenced Jenova, and got free of her will. Only, it was too late. He restored his sanity, only to fully comprehend what a monster he’d become. That is the one thing, I will never forget, as long as I live. His…anguish. His abject despair and desolation, when he looked back, with clear eyes, upon what he had done, under the influence of her poison, and saw the rivers of blood, in his wake.

“I will never forget the agony, that tore his soul apart. His desperation, to find some way to make it right, to heal the wounds dealt by his own hands, to undo it all. No version of me would ever willingly walk back toward that fate. That is the reason they all agreed, one by one, to die, in order to have a chance at changing it.

“And now, they are me. I am all of us. I am Sephiroth, unbound by fate. I will take this precious gift I have been given, and dedicate my life to protecting this world and its innocent children, from the cruelty of gods and monsters.”

“You sound like such a grown man,” Vincent observed, with a sigh. “So wise and circumspect. I don’t know if you even need me, anymore.”

Sephiroth’s slit pupils contracted and he sat bolt-upright, grabbing Vincent’s arm with both hands. All at once, that look of aged weariness and hard-won wisdom evaporated from his face, and he was just a fourteen-year-old child, again. “No. No. Never say that, Vincent. I need you. I’ll always need you. You can’t…you can’t ever leave me. You’re my special person. You are the one I want to be with. P—please don’t leave me. Please don’t—”

“Seph, breathe,” Vincent interrupted firmly. “I’m not going to leave you. Not ever.”

“But you said that before and then they took you! It was our birthday! And they took you away from me! What if they try to take you away again!”

The boy was spinning out into a panic attack, shaking and chest heaving with rapid, shallow breaths, squeezing his forearm in a white-knuckle grip, that would’ve pulverized the bones of a normal human.

Vincent sat up and threw his cloak back. “Come on. Bite. Just like when you were little.”

Sephiroth lunged forward and bit into the leather, clawing Vincent’s sides, hanging on for dear life, until his head stopped spinning, and the iron bands stopped constricting around his chest. Then he loosened his grip and melted into Vincent, with a shuddering sob.

“It’s ok. It’s ok,” Vincent murmured. “There’s no one who can take me away, anymore. No one who can tear us apart. If they want to try, let them come. All the armies in the world would break on us, and be swept away like dry leaves before a gale.”

“That’s…very poetic,” Sephiroth sniffled.

“I think I read it in a book, once. I don’t remember the book.”

“Thank you, for helping me calm down. I’m better now,” he said, wiping his red-rimmed eyes with the back of his hand. “Sorry for acting like a baby.”

Vincent’s throat constricted with a tight ache, hearing the boy use these words again. “Hojo berated you for crying, didn’t he. Did he call it acting like a baby? You’ve said that before.”

Sephiroth lowered his blue-green eyes and nodded.

“Seph, showing emotion doesn’t mean you’re acting like a baby. Even if it did, you are a child. You may have grown-up memories from alternate realities and a supergenius intellect, but you’re still just a little boy. You have every right to be one. You are allowed to cry. You are allowed to be scared and sad and confused and angry. You are allowed to make mistakes and not be perfect, and know that you’ll still be loved and protected and cared for. No matter what. You don’t have to be strong, for me, Sephiroth. You don’t have to be a hero, for me. Just be my son. That’s all.”

Tears were rolling down Sephiroth’s cheeks again, and despite Vincent’s admonition, he kept brushing them away, as if he was ashamed of them. Vincent drew him right back into his arms and held him, rocking him gently, till the tears naturally subsided. Even when Sephiroth pulled away, eventually, he took Vincent’s hand in his and fidgeted with the brass gauntlet, unwilling to break physical contact.

“Vincent…is it alright if I call you father?” he asked timidly, without raising his head. “It—it’s ok if you don’t like it. Just tell me and I won’t.”

“What?” Vincent said, taken aback. “Of course you can, why would you…wait, is that why you’ve been calling me Vincent since we left the manor? You were afraid I wouldn’t like it if you called me father?”

Sephiroth shrugged, still looking down at the gauntlet, as he straightened Vincent’s fingers and curled them, observing how the articulated plates moved and interlocked. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”

“Where is this coming from, Seph? Why would you think I’d want to distance myself from you, after everything we’ve been through together?”

“I know it’s biologically true, that you are my father, but you never asked for any of this. Lucrecia stole a piece of you,and made you a father, without your consent. She impregnated herself, with the express purpose of using your child as experimental material. If I were you, I’d feel betrayed. Violated. I’d be furious. So, I would understand if you’d rather not be reminded of…of what she did to you.”

“I’ll never understand why she did what she did,” Vincent sighed. “I knew all along that she was a scientist, first, and that she loved her work, above all else, but I never imagined that would extend to her own child. I don’t know if I feel betrayed and violated. Maybe I should. Maybe I should be angry. Mostly, I just feel regret and pity for her.”

“What happened between you?” Sephiroth asked gingerly.

Vincent shook his head. “It’s…complicated. It was never anything more than friendship, technically. I know she at least partially reciprocated the attachment I felt to her, but everything between us was implicit and contextual. Then, when she told me she’d made her choice, and it wasn’t me, I backed off. All I wanted was for her to be happy, even if her happiness didn’t have a place in it for me. Looking back on everything, now, I think she wanted me to fight for her. But I didn’t understand that, then. I believed standing aside was the right thing to do, so I did.”

“It was, though,” Sephiroth contended. “You can’t blame yourself for not pursuing her, against her stated wishes. You can’t blame yourself for not fighting for her, when she told you she didn’t want you to. It wouldn’t have been you.”

Vincent smiled ruefully. “Because I’m a coward?”

“Because you’re a kind and considerate person!” Sephiroth returned, warming quickly in defense of his father. “What is wrong with that? Since when is accepting another person’s decisions and respecting their stated boundaries cowardly? She made her choice, and you respected it. It wasn’t your fault she didn’t tell you the truth!”

“But, I should have known,” Vincent said, wavering. “I should have known her well enough to grasp the subtext, and understand what she really wanted.”

“Would you have done it? If you understood what she wanted from you? Would you have fought for her?”

Vincent closed his mouth tightly and looked away, for a long beat. Then he very slowly shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t have.” As soon as he’d said it, he let out a shaky breath, as if even pronouncing the words had cost him a tremendous effort. But now that he’d finally got them out, a dam seemed to have broken, inside him. “She…hurt me. She chose another man. If she loved me, she—she should have chosen me. I should have been good enough for her. It would have wounded my pride, too deeply, to lower myself to fighting over her, like a dog over a bone. I deserved better, than to be pitted against her lover, in a contest for her affection. At least, I thought I did.”  

“You did! You did deserve better! It’s not wrong for you to have a bottom line. She had no right to expect you to sacrifice your dignity and self-esteem chasing after her.”

“The worst of it is that she never told me the truth. Not even when she tried to force my hand, and said that if she was the only one concerned, then she’d go ahead with the fetal experiments.” Vincent’s brow darkened and his eye flashed gold. “She gave me that ultimatum, while continuing to let me believe you were his child! What sane man would have pressured a woman to leave her lover, whose child she was ostensibly carrying, when she had already refused him? What game was she playing? How many dragons did she want me to slay, to prove my love? Did she want me to get on my knees and beg her not to ruin her life?”  

This was the angriest Sephiroth had ever seen Vincent, and he was stunned to silence. The sudden change in the gentle, softspoken man was akin to watching a beaten dog break its chain, and suddenly realize it was a wolf. Hackles up, fangs bared and bristling—a proud and beautiful creature. It was breathtaking.

“I—I’m sorry,” Vincent faltered, misunderstanding Sephiroth’s expression. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No more apologizing!” Sephiroth said vehemently, grabbing and tugging his hands, to stop him withdrawing into himself. “You didn’t frighten me, at all. I was just surprised to see you finally expressing anger. To be honest, I was beginning to worry that you’d keep turning it all inward and punishing yourself forever, without admitting that what Lucrecia did to you was wrong.”

“But, it wasn’t all your mother’s fault. If it weren’t for Hojo—”

“We’re not talking about him, we’re talking about Lucrecia,” Sephiroth interrupted, pointedly using her name, rather than the maternal designation. “Getting angry isn’t enough. You have to admit to yourself, that the blame for what she did rests on her, alone. She was a grown woman, years older than you. She made her choices with her eyes open. She didn’t need her twenty-seven year-old bodyguard to tell her what she was doing was wrong. She knew it was, and she did it anyway. She lied to you and violated you!

“And then what? She expected you to force yourself into the situation, in order to save her from herself? How were you supposed to navigate the tangled web she wove, when she didn’t even get out of it alive? That doesn’t mean you can’t forgive her, but you can’t keep finding ways to excuse her. Lucrecia wasn’t a saint, and she wasn’t a victim of circumstances. She was a person who made a conscious choice to destroy all three of our lives.”

Vincent’s shoulders slumped, and he gave a long, weary sigh. “I…I didn’t know you felt that way. For what it’s worth, I think she really wanted to be your mother.”

“Then she should have done better,” Sephiroth said icily. “I wasn’t a person, to her, when she decided to use me as a test subject. I was a biological process, that she could manipulate in the name of science, with no thought to the human repercussions.”

“But…she did change her mind,” Vincent attempted. “She regretted her mistakes. I doubt she ever suspected that Hojo would take you away, and never even let her hold you. By the time she realized what he really was, it was too late. She was trapped by what she’d done, and it all spun out of her control. When I saw her image in my dreams, she said that she couldn’t live with the guilt, anymore, after all the suffering she’d caused. She begged me to forgive her.”

“She also asked you to kill me.”

“Yes. That is why I doubt what I saw was really Lucrecia, in the true sense. It was probably more like an echo of her will, filled with her lingering regrets. But whatever the truth of the matter, she was still your mother. I hope you can forgive her, one day.”

“You hope that I’ll forgive her because you loved her. I didn’t even know her. All I know is what she did to us. Maybe, one day, I’ll have it in me to forgive her. But right now, she is no more a mother to me, than that thing in the mako reactor was.”

Vincent nodded his understanding, despite the pain his son’s bitter words caused him. “It’s up to you, and I won’t press you.” He paused. “But Seph, no matter what she did or how I feel about her, I would never harbor any negative feeling toward you, because of the choices your mother made. You’re the only good thing that any of us ever did. The way it came about was ugly and complicated and full of misery, but you are my son. You are the only person in the world who matters to me. Of course I want you to call me father.”

Sephiroth sighed, leaning into Vincent’s embrace again. “I never wanted anything more than I wanted you to be my father. But I feel like…I don’t deserve to be that happy. I keep expecting to find out there was some mistake, and I’m not your son at all. That I’m just a freak, with no connection to anyone, except a dead monster.”

“Well, that can’t possibly be true. Even if Hojo could have faked the DNA profiles he showed me, you look just like me. I tried to downplay it, because of his threats, but there’s a reason people always assume we’re father and son, despite our hair and eyes being the exact opposite colors.”

“That woman at the bakery didn’t. I forgot to tell you, because we ran into that boy and his mother. She thought you were my lover. She said we must be a fated pair!”

Vincent’s eyebrows went up. “Well. That’s certainly flattering to me. Except, you’re not a girl.”

“Oh, please. As if that matters to you.”

“Excuse me? What are you implying, young man?”

“Don’t forget, I’ve seen the future, father. I know all about you,” Sephiroth said, looking very wise and mysterious.

“What does that mean? I’m not—I don’t…do I?”

“Nuh-uh, I’m not telling. First of all, that would be weird. Second of all, it might be totally different, now. We rewrote destiny, after all.”

“Well then why bring it up?” Vincent groused. “Just to tease me?”

“Actually, I brought it up to break the ice. I wanted you to know that I’m aware your…horizons are broader than you let on, as far as gender and attraction. I don’t want you to feel you have to hide it from me. And also, I wanted to tell you right from the beginning that I don’t like girls and I never will. Just to spare us the awkward conversation, when I bring home a boyfriend.”

“B—boyfriend?!” Vincent sputtered. “You’re fourteen! No boyfriends!! Not till you’re twenty—no, thirty!”

“Tch. You’re such an old prude.”

“You think I won’t make it forty? Keep sassing me and find out!”

“Alright, alright, calm down before you turn into Chaos,” Sephiroth laughed. “I was just joking, anyway. I won’t be dating or anything like that. I’m waiting for my soul mate.”

Vincent squinted at him. “Soul mate? I didn’t realize you were the romantic type.”

“No, I mean I am literally waiting for him,” Sephiroth clarified. “I know he exists, because I have seen him with my own eyes. He was my soul’s anchor point, in every timeline. Our connection to each other is the reason experiencing all the other futures didn’t destroy my mind. I’m going to protect him and take care of him, this time. I will never let anything bad happen to him. I also plan to marry him, one day. He just happens to be far too young for that kind of thing, at the moment.”

“You’re far too young for that kind of thing,” Vincent grumbled, crossing his arms. “Maybe slow down on the marriage talk, before you give your father a heart attack.”

“Nice try, old man. We both know you don’t have a heart.”

“That’s because you took it.”

“Speaking of that. I should probably give it back,” Sephiroth said sheepishly.

Vincent held his hand up. “No. I meant what I said. Keep it for me.”

“You…you want me to keep your heart?” Sephiroth’s eyes misted over again, and his voice trembled with emotion. “You really trust me that much?”

“Of course I do. There’s no better place for it, that I can think of, than with you. I’ve thought about it, since we left the manor, and if you’re literally holding my heart, you won’t have to worry, anymore, when we’re apart. You’ll always be able to call me back to you, if you need me.”

Sephiroth nodded, through his tears, reflexively laying a hand on his heart. As he did, he felt the familiar shape, through his shirt. “My locket. But I gave it to Chaos, in the reactor.”

“I thought you’d probably want it, so I put it back on you, while you were sleeping.”

Sephiroth pulled the locket out of his shirt and looked at it, for a moment. Then he unclasped the chain and took it off. Rocking up on his knees, he carefully fastened it around Vincent’s neck.

Vincent balked. “Seph, I can’t take this. This is your—”

“No, you have to take it,” Sephiroth insisted, laying one hand over the locket, on Vincent’s chest, and the other over his heart, on his own. “You gave me your heart. Since I can’t cut mine out and give it to you, this is the next best thing. It’s the only thing I’ve ever had that matters to me. It represented love and family, to me, till I met you. Now that I have my father, I don’t need to cling to an old picture of my mother, for comfort. So, I want you to keep it for me, as a symbol of our love and trust.”

Vincent hesitated, then dipped his chin in solemn assent. “Then I will take good care of it, for you.”

“I think it may have belonged to your father, anyway. There’s a V engraved on the inside.”

“Huh. That’s odd,” Vincent frowned, opening the locket and holding it up to inspect it. “It does look like the V from our family seal. But my father would never have worn something silver. He was allergic.”

“It’s platinum, not silver. The chain, too.”

“I see,” Vincent said, with an odd expression. Then he repeated it, in a lower voice. “I see.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing important. Just an answer to an old question,” he said, tucking the locket away under his cloak. “Now, it’s about time we got you something to eat. You must be starving.”

“Not really. I can go days without food, before I start feeling it,” Sephiroth chirped.

Vincent’s iris flashed a warning gold. “And you know that because Hojo…”

“Father, he’s dead,” Sephiroth said, putting his hands on Vincent’s shoulders. “I cut off his head, myself. There’s no use wasting any more anger on him.”

His wrath subsided immediately, along with the gold ember in his eye. Then he was embarrassed that he could so easily be pacified, simply by being called ‘father’ and touched affectionately by his son, and scowled disconsolately, which made Sephiroth laugh again.

“Well, whether you feel hungry or not, I’m going to get you food,” Vincent announced, reasserting his authority. “It’s unhealthy not to eat, especially while you’re still growing.”

“Alright, but I’m coming with you.”

“Seph, you know we can’t risk you being seen. Your appearance is too distinctive.”

“Said the man who wears a bright-red cloak and shiny brass armor everywhere.”

“No one is going to be looking for me, and if they were, they’d have no reason to believe you and I would be together. Most of Shinra don’t even know I was at the manor. Besides, I know how to move around unseen.”

“I know how to—”

“Without mind control.”

Sephiroth made a sour face. “It’s not my fault people are weak-willed and easy to manipulate.”

“That’s true, but it’s still not nice to do it, if you don’t absolutely have to. How do you know there won’t be any permanent side-effects?”

“Hmph. Fine, I won’t go about scrambling the brains of the riff-raff, if you’re going to be so strict about it. Oh! I know! I can just disguise myself! So much has happened, that I forgot it’s one of the abilities my others left me.”

To Vincent’s horrified astonishment, the boy’s body suddenly warped and distorted, and he found himself standing face to face with…himself. Or rather, an identical copy, down to every detail. “Seph, this is…very weird. Is that really what I look like?”

“It is,” Vincent’s double said, with Sephiroth’s voice. “I can’t change my voice, though. That’s a flaw. Also, I can’t keep it up for extended periods. No more than a couple of hours, at a time.”

“That’s a pretty remarkable talent. I don’t see how you being me helps, though. We can’t both go out like this.”

“I just wanted to impress you with what I can do.” Sephiroth grinned, as his body shifted back to normal, only his hair was still jet black and he still had Vincent’s crimson eyes and ashen skin. “How’s this? No one will be looking for Sephiroth Valentine.”

That shot struck home, of course, and Vincent was thoroughly defeated. Just as he’d said, Shinra really couldn’t do much to them, even if they did send an army. But they could make things annoying for them, and they certainly wouldn’t bat an eye at hurting any civilians that happened to be in the way. He and Sephiroth weren't in hiding, per se, but it was better not to invite their notice.

Down the street from the inn, was a pub he’d visited many years ago. It had since been converted into a bakery, featuring local baked goods and some light lunch fare, such as sandwiches and salads. Because of Vincent’s knack for fading from sight, the beautiful boy with him attracted many curious gazes, but no eyes fell on him, despite the crimson cloak and brass armor. After they entered the bakery, he leaned down and whispered something to Sephiroth. The boy nodded, and Vincent actually vanished, leaving him to peruse the pastries in the glass case, alone.

Outside, Vincent alit on the ridgepole of a rooftop, crouched like a stone gargoyle, sighting the streets below for about ten seconds, before he sprang away, dissolving into crimson blur and rematerializing in an alleyway, a street over, with the massive barrel of Cerberus pressed to the base of a man’s skull, below his black ponytail. The man’s gloved hands went up slowly.

“Special Agent Valentine. Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.” He sounded young. Very young. His voice was steady, but too stiff and proper. Concealing his nervousness behind cold formality. Vincent had been the exact same way, when he was a rookie.

“Not a Turk anymore,” Vincent growled.

“Still, I’d appreciate it, if you didn’t kill my agent,” another voice said, behind him. “For old time’s sake.”

Vincent pulled back the hammer with an audible click. “What the hell do you people want with me?”

“Come on, Valentine,” the voice behind him said, with an edge of impatience. “Point that gun where it belongs. Leave the kid out of it.”

“He’s a Turk, not a kid.”

“He’s fourteen.”

Vincent’s eye twitched. Then he drew the gun away and holstered it with an annoyed snarl. “Shinra just can’t stop turning children into killers, can they.”

The boy turned around, glancing up at Vincent, before looking to the man behind him for orders. Vincent was surprised to see a Wutaian, even more so one who wore a religious symbol so openly as this one did, with a bindi dot on his forehead. The boy was clearly surprised by Vincent’s face, too, though there was no telling which element of it he found more startling than which. 

“You can go, Tseng,” the other man said. “Agent Valentine and I need to have a chat.”

The boy looked up at Vincent again, his eyes lingering for a second or two, as if he wanted to say something, before he turned on his heel and walked briskly away.

“Vincent.”

“Veld.”

The two men studied one another for a long beat. Vincent was a good four inches taller, but Veld was stockier and appeared much older, with grey streaks in his dark-brown hair, and a perpetually rugged look about him, despite his smart black suit.

“Holy hell, you look exactly the same,” Veld said, at last, shaking his head.

“You have aged,” Vincent replied flatly. “Since when does the Director of the Administrative Research Division track down targets in the field, himself.”

“Since the target is you, you fuckin’ asshole!” Veld exploded. “They told me you died, Vince! Where the hell have you been for a decade and a goddamn half!”

“I did die,” Vincent sneered. “I spent most of the past fourteen years in a coffin.”

“Real fuckin’ funny. If you're not going to—” He broke off, catching sight of Vincent’s gold iris, which he could see faintly glowing, now that it was in the shadow of his shaggy bangs. “What…is that? What did they do to you?”

Vincent turned his head away. “Nothing you want to know about. Answer my question. What do you people want with me?”

“Officially? Recovery. You’re a missing Shinra asset. In reality, I don’t know if I have the manpower it would take to haul your ass back to Shinra.”

“You really think you could bring me in, even if you had brought all your men?”

“God damn it, Vince, listen to me. I’m telling you I’m not trying to bring you in. There’s too much going on with the conflict in Wutai, and we’re already stretched paper thin, so the president doesn’t have the bandwidth to worry about you. I pushed back on hunting you down, and he agreed that it’s enough to just have you surveilled, for now, to make sure you’re not an immediate threat to Shinra.”

Vincent tilted his head. “And what does he plan to do, if I am?”

“Did you become more of a prick, in the past decade and a half?” Veld asked, eyeing him cagily. “I seem to recall you being a lot more…”

“Of a pushover?”

“I was gonna say agreeable, but yeah, pretty much.”

“People change,” Vincent answered vaguely.

“I guess so.” Veld paused and ran his hands back through his hair, which he always used to do when attempting to conceal some strong emotion. “It's so good to see your face, again, Vince. All these years thinking you were killed in action, and you know how I found out you were alive? I'm supervising the cleanup of Shinra Manor. One of the assets whose location I was to verify was you. That’s how they told me my old partner wasn’t really dead. A name, in an inventory of their property.”

“I am dead. I don’t know how much more clearly I can say that.”

“Well, you’re sure making it look good,” Veld Chuckled, clearly still not understanding. “Speaking of good looking, who’s the kid with you? Boyfriend?”

“My son.”

“Your s—your son?? But how? Who? Did you…with a woman??”

“I guess it’s hard for you to imagine, because of…back then. But yes, before they killed me, I loved a woman. He is my son, with her.”

“Well, where is she? Are you on your way to see her?”

“She died.”

“Ah. Uh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Veld, I understand that you have to keep a tail on me. I know you’re just doing your job. And I know what it took for you to put Shinra off hunting me down, even if you’re making light of it. I’ll never forget that. But if your people get within a one-block radius of my son…I’ll kill them all.”

“Fair enough. I wouldn’t want Turks snooping around my kid, either. I’ll tell ‘em to keep their distance. But in exchange, you gotta agree not to kill 'em, unless you absolutely have to.”

“Agreed.”

“By the way, I found something I think belongs to you.”

From a storage materia somewhere on his person, he produced a box, about the size of a shoebox, only a bit longer and narrower. It was wrapped in rumpled, stained red paper, and had a grimy silver ribbon with a flattened bow tied around it. The name ‘Vincent’ was clearly written on the wrapping paper, in black permanent marker.

Vincent stared at the all-too familiar object in stunned disbelief. “Where did you find this? How did you—”

“My crew found it in a trash bag, out by the dumpsters, where the garbage from the manor gets hauled away. They’re a good way from the buildings, so the stuff there didn’t get burned to a crisp, with everything else. You recognize it?”

“A birthday gift, from my son. It…was thrown away by mistake.”

“Well, I’m glad I made the boys sort through the trash, then. Despite all the bitching and moaning.”

“They should, anyway,” Vincent frowned, as he tucked the rumpled present into his cloak. “You can learn more about a target from the garbage they throw out than—”

“Than from the garbage that comes out of their mouth, yeah, I remember,” Veld laughed. “So, you’re still thinking like a Turk, after all this time.”

“It’s not something that just goes away. And I…I do miss it, sometimes.”

“You ever think about coming back, there’ll always be a place for you.”

“No. I’ll never work for Shinra again. I promised my son that I’m finished with all of that. We’re going to settle down and have a nice, quiet life together.”

“I respect that. Maybe one day, I’ll follow your example.”

“I hope you do. Sooner, rather than later,” Vincent said, as he turned to go.

“Maybe…I can meet your son, one day, too,” Veld called after him.

Vincent paused, then gave a nod, over his shoulder, before he vanished.

Back at the bakery, Sephiroth already had the middle-aged ladies that owned the place fawning all over him and stuffing him full of ‘free samples’ of pastries, like a couple of grannies that were worried he was too thin. He and Vincent took their lunch to go, and once they stepped off the main street, Vincent scooped Sephiroth up in his arms and flew them over the castle-like city walls, to the broad, green valley below.

Sephiroth chose a picnic spot in the turfy grass, beside a cheerfully babbling creek. He’d never seen a creek, in person, and was so enthralled by it, he had to be reminded to eat at least some of his lunch, before he went to play around in it.

“It’s so cold!” he shouted laughingly to Vincent, when he’d rolled up his trousers and waded into it, up to his knees. “Do you think there are fish?”

“Not here. Maybe further from the city, where it gets deeper and slows down.”

Sephiroth kicked and splashed around, till he soaked the legs of his trousers, and had to use a fire spell to dry them, before he could put his boots back on.

“How did you get rid of the Turks?” he asked, when he’d sat down again, and began working on Vincent’s half of their lunch.

“One of them was an old friend. He was willing to be reasonable. He was also at the manor, for the cleanup. He, uh. He found this, and thought we might want it.”

Vincent drew the stained and rumpled package from his cloak. Sephiroth’s eyes went wide and his mouth fell open, in an endearingly childish expression of wonder. “It’s your birthday present! I can’t believe they saved it! How did they save it?”

“Technically, you saved it.”

“Huh? Me?”

“The area where the garbage is left to be hauled away is far from the buildings, so it doesn’t attract wild animals to the areas where people work. None of the things there were burned.”

“Oh. Right. I threw it away.” Sephiroth’s face fell. “I—I thought you weren’t coming back and I just…couldn’t bear to look at it.”

“You don’t have to explain. Hojo made me watch the security feed, anyway. He knew hurting my body didn’t work anymore, so he hurt you, to torture me. I’m so sorry, for all of this. For the pain I caused you, just by existing.”

“I said no more apologizing. Now open your present, I worked really hard getting it for you!”

Of course, the custom-made holster was the most beautiful gift Vincent had ever received, and not just because it was from his son. Even more precious to him, however, was Sephiroth’s happy excitement, chatting to him about the design process and his correspondence with the blacksmith, and all the little details that made it special, while he helped Vincent remove the old holster and strap the new one on, in its place. It fit perfectly, and without that awkwardness of a new thing, as if it had been with him all along.

After that, Sephiroth was still full of energy, being exhilarated by his first foray into the great outdoors, so Vincent agreed to take a walk in the green valley, under the early-afternoon sun. He walked, rather, while Sephiroth picked up interesting rocks, stopped to investigate unfamiliar plants, found a family of frogs, and startled the local birds half out of their wits, scaling nearly every tree he saw. 

“You said your other versions left you guideposts, to avoid repeating their future,” Vincent said, after a while. “So, do you have a plan?”

“I do,” Sephiroth answered decisively, hopping lightly down from the large boulder he’d leapt onto. “First, there are people we have to collect, and some we have to strategically position. Things have to be done at the right times, to be effective, though, so it’ll be a process that takes several years. The upside is, we’ll have a lot of time to relax and travel around, while we wait for circumstances to align.”

“Sounds good. Then what?”

“Then we’re going to kill President Shinra, and everyone else on the board of directors. Well, almost everyone.”

“We are?” Vincent asked, confused. “I thought you were done with killing people. I thought we were going to have the peaceful life you always dreamed of, now.”

“But I want everyone to have a peaceful life. There are powerful people who are malignant influences, actively causing suffering, to as many others as they can. Shinra's top ranks are full of them. None of them are any less monstrous than Hojo. Except one. There’s one good man, who got mixed up in Shinra, and managed to stay a good man.

“We’re going to kill the rest of them, so he’ll be installed as Shinra’s interim chairman, while they’re dragging Rufus home and filing the paperwork, for him to take over as president. By that time, our man will already have public support, and his power base within Shinra will be stable. Rufus will have no choice but to let him steer the ship. And he will definitely steer it in the right direction.”

“You seem to have a lot of faith in him. Who is he?”

“His name is Reeve Tuesti. He’s just an engineer, working in their Urban Planning Department, at the moment, but he’s a genius. He’ll be promoted to Executive Director, within a few years. Youngest executive in Shinra history.”

“How old is he?”

“Now, I’m not sure. Probably eighteen.”

“Already an engineer at eighteen? Impressive. Speaking of precocious teenagers, do you know anything about a person named Tseng?”

“Tseng? Why do you ask?”

“He was one of the Turks they sent after me, today. I just…got a feeling about him.”

“He’d be fourteen years old, right now,” Sephiroth frowned. “He was a Turk so young?”

“I don’t know why that should surprise you. Shinra sent you to war at fourteen, didn’t they?”

“Not anymore, but yes. They would have. Either way, your intuition was spot-on. Tseng is important. We can leave him be, for now, but we’ll need him on our side, later.”

Vincent glanced at him, sidelong. “Out of curiosity, what is ‘our side,’ Seph?”

“It’s…ours,” Sephiroth answered broadly. “It’s the side that wants to help people and save whoever we can. We can help the most people in this world by going after Shinra. Not by blowing up their reactors like a bunch of idiot children, but by completely restructuring the company, from the top down.”

“Blowing up their reactors?”

“There are these eco-terrorists…don’t worry about it. We’ll be ten steps ahead of them. Oh, also we’re going to need the family fortune, to fund our world-changing efforts, so we’ll have to inform the Valentine estate lawyers that you’re not dead. And also have me added to the family register.”

At this point, Vincent didn’t bother to ask how the boy knew about the family’s financial situation, and took it in stride. “You’re sure you want to be a Valentine?”

“Of course. What else would I be?”

“Well, there’s your mother’s surname. I thought you might—”

“No. Not even if I didn’t have another option,” Sephiroth said bitterly. “I may as well take Jenova or Hojo as my surname.”

Vincent looked as if he’d slapped him. “Seph…”

“Sorry, father. I didn’t mean that. I have a lot of pent up anger,” he corrected himself, lowering his head contritely. “All I mean is that, I don’t want any surname other than Valentine. I’m your son. That’s all I want to be.”

“Then you’ll be a Valentine,” Vincent agreed, pulling him close, to kiss the top of his head. “After we take control of the family fortune, what’s our objective?”

“We start gathering allies.”

“Alright. Who’s first?”

“The most important one, of course,” Sephiroth smiled. “Maybe the most important person in the world.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY i bet it's Reno

next chapter:

[onthesubjectofanything]

something deeply real and homosexual and frightening happened to those two after reggie got home from basketball camp, after archie spent the summer keeping that home safe

and whatever it was it scared archie so bad he ran straight to his little quad and then all the way to california into the arms of a nameless wife and he never fucking looked back, he couldnt look back