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holly-fixation · 2 years

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Damaged Doll: Chapter 3

Summary: Angeal and Zack discover a man in all black trapped under boulders in the mountains near Icicle Village. They notice things are extremely wrong about this man, but one thing demands their attention: mako blue eyes with slit pupils. Sephiroth will want to see this. And meeting him only raises more questions than answers. But what happens when this blonde is face to face with the silver general himself?

Based on this prompt by @im-totally-not-an-alien

Please Enjoy!

Chapter 3: A Link

A short pause filled the room, snake like eyes bearing into each other, one with utter obsession, the other with incurable curiosity.

Sephiroth’s throat hitched, despite all of his planning, all of his preparation. It was his mother, the woman he was punished for asking about. The connection he never had but desperately needed, no matter how many times he was told he was better, different, and had no need for such pointless connections. He could finally learn about his mother. He took one last breath to clear it before asking, “How do you know my mother’s name?” He hoped this would be the least complicated question, or at least the least complicated answer he’d receive tonight. “How do you know my mother is Jenova?”

“It’s the name you know, therefore the name she took,” He answered simply, like that explained anything, “Your hair and the shape of your eyes are the same as hers.”

He knew he should be smarter than this, much more cautious of the abnormal answer, but a childish longing held his rational mind hostage as he answered mindlessly, “She looked like me?”

He nodded.

“What was she like…?” His voice was small, and he received an almost caring, empathetic look from the blonde.

“Powerful. Intelligent. A tactician. A savior to so many.” He paused as he hunted for an answer. “…She was caring. Kind. Beautiful.” A wistful expression claimed the patient’s slitted eyes, which, peculiarly, expanded like a cat’s in the dark. “You’re so much like her, My prince.”

The general forced down the bubble of warmth from the comparison calmly, attempting to focus on his goal. “How did you know her?”

“Your mother created me.” He answered truthfully, but that wasn’t possible. His age seemed about the same as Sephiroth’s.

“‘Created’?”

Cloud lifted his head in confusion for a moment before nodding. “Yes. She created me from the stone and glass in the north.”

Sephiroth only raised a brow, but Cloud did not continue.

Instead, he returned to a different topic, a bit of explanation before he planned to continue his answer evident in his voice. “When your mother came to this planet, she-”

“Stop,” He ordered in bewilderment, shaking his head and hands softly in wait, gaining instant silence. He always showed more emotion when it came to his mother. “‘This Planet’?”

The blonde looked down, folding his hands neatly in his lap before raising his eyes hesitantly. “Forgive me, My prince, I must ask...” it was the first time his voice faltered in front of Sephiroth, matching his currently fractured state. “What do you know of your mother…?”

Sephiroth’s heart dropped at the question, his confusion replaced with the ever gaping hole in his chest. The color vanished from his face. “Her name was Jenova. And she died giving birth to me.” He did not meet the gaze of the patient as he finished, refusing to see the reaction to the statement he told no one before, “That’s all I know.” He closed his eyes to center himself, and he heard the patient breathe deeply in thought, analysis, interrogation, determination.

“Yet you’ve come so far…” Was that surprise, the smallest hint, in the raspy voice? Then it was back to steel, the solid tone he only used to Him. “...Your mother would be proud.”

Sephiroth’s chest warmed again, and with a nearly sad expression on his face, he didn’t fight it.

“Please, let me explain, My prince.”

He sighed softly and nodded, his signal to continue.

The blonde completely understood. “Your mother was not from this planet.” Sephiroth nearly jerked in question, and though he did not ask, the blonde knew exactly what he wanted to know. “The humans would call her an alien, but she is so much more than an extraterrestrial.” His change in tense was noticed, but the general swallowed to soothe his inquiring mind, despite the cautiousness slowly stirring within. “She was a godsend. Multiple planets would call out to her when their beings were in danger due to the lifeforms they could not control. And after aiding them, she ruled them as queen. This planet, the Lifestream itself, cried. And she answered.”

Sephiroth opened and closed his mouth once, like a guppy, too many questions colliding that only one stuttered to escape. “H-How?”

“A meteor. I believe…the crater should still be there.”

“The Northern Crater?”

Cloud nodded. “Yes.”

The silver general shook his head, denying this explanation. This was nonsense, a terrible waste of time. You're insane. Completely insane or delusional. After the state he was found in, the general wasn’t surprised, just disappointed. Perhaps it was brain damage from the boulders. Perhaps it was the unspecified length of solitude. Perhaps he was never well, and that’s how he ended up in that cave in the first place.

“My prince, please wait,” The blonde begged when Sephiroth took a step toward the door, and the general gave him a tired look. “Please, I speak the truth, but it…” He trailed off, then closed his eyes and breathed. “It may not seem possible today. This world has changed so much. But your mother remains the same. Please, what other questions do you have about her?”

Is he using my own mother to justify this asinine story? Is he trying to control me just because our eyes are the same? The slightest counter shone out of the inhuman eyes.

Cloud’s eyes widened in defeat, before he closed the lids and bowed his head, dread settling in his features as the fire dwindled. “I have bothered you. I’ll stop…”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Sephiroth stated suddenly, even surprising himself with the burst of his thoughts before turning to the blonde with a cold expression. One last chance. “Tell me something I don’t know.” That’s even remotely possible, the silent half of his sentence was caught as well.

Cloud took a pained breath, then paused, analyzing his mind and the room for what he could believably explain. “...Do you truly believe your mother is dead…?”

His heart dropped, the hook ripping through his walls and reeling him in completely.

“How many times were you told…?”

“Once.” His eyes winced closed, the memory excruciating as it overwhelmed every cell in his body, dragging him down to the depths of the suppressed and fragile mind. Back to a little boy, stronger than any machine or monster they threw at him, special and different and above all else, though he never believed it. He was barely strong enough, barely as strong as they wanted, finally making his… finally making someone proud of him.

He’d be leaving for Wutai in a week, his life no longer dictated by every word out of Hojo’s cruel mouth. He’d be the first SOLDIER, out of the lab, in the field, in the real world.

Maybe he’d finally feel rain.

But Hojo, for the first time in his life, offered him a gift, any gift within reason, the only shred of joy the scientist ever offered. The opportunity.

“Make your decision while I'm feeling sentimental, boy.”

Though he fidgeted in his spot as he thought, the minute of silence that passed did not change his question. He prepared for the argument, the yelling he couldn’t capture in his throat when Hojo inevitably went back on the deal after hearing what he wanted. Clothes, weapons, equipment, he wanted none of those things, nothing material. He took a breath before forcing his eyes to the scientist.

“...Okay. I’ve made my choice.”

He felt the gaze burn through the black glasses as the scientist crossed his arms, an annoyed gesture to tell him to continue.

One more breath. One last attempt at steeling himself. “I want to know about my parents.” He felt the white hot burn from the white reflection in the back glasses in his heart. “Both of them. That’s the only thing I want.”

Hojo nearly stood and tensed in response, analyzing him, calculating his mind. The glare and pause nearly stung his skin, but he refused to back down. “You’re better than this. You know you’re better than this.”

“It’s not an attachment-”

“Then what is it, boy?” The scientist spat. “Is it curiosity? Is that the lie you’re about to tell me? That you don’t care about the answer? You ‘just’ want to know?”

Like glass, cracking at the force of the words. “I won’t ask again… Please… Just once...” He nearly whined, his voice as small as a field mouse. “That’s all I want…”

He couldn’t read the expression on the professor’s face. He didn’t know what to prepare for. The silence felt like an eternity. And when the professor moved a hand slowly, he actively forced his eyes to remain on his target.

“You get one gift,” the scientist seethed while holding up an index finger. “So choose. Which parent do you ‘care’,” the professor nearly gagged at the thought, “about more?”

He froze at the challenge, his anxious movement vanished into ice, a shocked look on his face, his mouth agape and his eyes accusatory. He had to pick between his mother or his father? When he’d never know either? How would he know if he made the right decision? Hojo’s mind was made up. He knew there was no room for argument. Why would Hojo do this to him?

“Which one, Sephiroth?”

Glass.

“Make a choice.”

Glass.

“Pick already.”

Clear as a window.

“My mother!” He spat out so quickly the scientist flinched and tilted a head ever so slightly in confusion. “My mother. I choose my mother...” His strength failed him and his eyes fell to the ground, guilt pumping through his veins. Why did Hojo make him choose? Why…? He kept his eyes down until Hojo spoke again, his mouth dry as a bone.

“Her name was Jenova.”

Sephiroth’s blue eyes widened as he repeated the name for the first time. “Jenova...”

“Yes.” The scientist spat. “And she died. Giving birth to you.”

He didn’t see a shred of lie or truth beyond the black glasses. He tried to breathe, he tried to speak, but he was spellbound by the guilt in his heart and the scientist dangling the organ over a floor of swords, always ready to drop. It made sense, why he never saw her, why he didn’t have a single memory of her. It hurt. Gods it hurt, his chest tightening, but he had to keep trying, anything he could get. He swallowed hard, his hand twitching in shock. “What was she like…?”

The scientist scoffed. “No.”

Why? Why not?

“No, I gave you your gift. That’s all.”

“But-!”

“Don’t pull this on me,” Hojo growled. “I answered your question, now go.”

He instinctually stepped toward the man. “Please, Hojo!”

“Step back, Sephiroth.”

But he couldn’t stop his mindless pleading and eyes from watering when he moved One. Step. Closer. “Please!”

The last memory forced upon him was the crack against his cheek, that sent him stumbling back despite all his strength.

When Sephiroth finally returned to reality, finally outside the prison of his memories, he found himself standing at the center of the same room, but with the blonde’s arms wrapped around him and pulled tightly to him. A hug. He glanced at the clock for confirmation. Only a few seconds had passed. Maybe five, or ten? Did he...dissociate? This has never happened before.

“Who did this to you, My prince?” was all he spoke, embers growing to a small flame. He was shorter, the soldier realized, the first time he stood for anyone, his head politely pulled away from the opening of skin in the leather jacket, the palms of his yellow hair softly brushing the soldier’s chin.

Sephiroth was at a loss for words.

“You do not need to explain anything. Please answer when you’re ready. Who did this to you?” Cloud tightened his grip, his posture a rock, a ground to focus his prince.

The silver general, the silver soldier, the first SOLDIER, the little boy cowering away from the experiments, the tiny kid crying from each failure, each break, each cut, each bruise, every emotion in his very being screamed over the whisper of logic trying to break through. His arms moved impulsively, like a desperate child, starved for attention and affection, and gripped the shoulders of the injured blonde across the smaller body.

Cloud did not ask again, but patted the space on the back between the large pauldrons, petting the space of leather soothingly.

Then he found himself removing one hand and pulling the blonde to his chest, with no resistance. It felt…nice, to have someone so close to him, the vaguest memory of a stuffed chocobo dashing through his mind, the fluff of the fur delicate and comforting. The similar color almost coaxed him into leaning his face into the dandelion of hair, perhaps even breathing in a scent of something other than this solitary lab. So many memories…why now? He searched his thoughts for an answer, the silence only aiding his tracking mind.

…his mother. It tied to her, didn’t it? Whether the blonde was telling the truth he sought all his life, or a story fabricated by a tortured and damaged mind, he didn't know. He did not believe the tale, of course, but he felt a connection. A deep connection.

“...Hojo did this…” His deep voice boomed softly, and the blonde only nodded in confirmation. The only noise in the room was their tensioned breaths and the occasional beep of the medical machines. Maybe a minute of peace passed through them.

But then they felt something, and Sephiroth let go and took a step back as they both glared at the observation window. The speaker in the ceiling clicked on.

“Apologies.” That was absolutely a new hire, stuck on the absolute worst shift for specimen monitorization: zero-hundred to zero-seven-hundred hours. “Visiting hours are 9AM to 12AM, and the patient should not be standing. Please help the patient return to the bed, then leave the room. Thank you.” Another click notified the shut off of the microphone and speaker.

The blonde’s head was bowed again. “Forgive me.”

His silver brows knotted in confusion as his gaze returned to the blonde. “For what?” Only now did he realize the blonde was balanced on one foot, the damaged leg dangling in the air.

“I disobeyed your order to stay in bed.”

Sephiroth shook his head. “Don’t apologize. Here,” He stepped toward the blonde with his hands out, “Let me help.”

Cloud shook his head and held his arms out to stop him. “My prince, I can’t let you- nh-” He was already lifted and back in the bed before he could finish, grabbing his sides to soothe the pain from movement and failing at concealing his low, pained grunt.

“Are your ribs okay?” The soldier asked, scanning the other set of eyes for the truth.

The blonde nodded quickly. “Yes. Thank you, My prince.”

Sephiroth cringed at another use of the faux title. “Please don’t call me that.” He moved to the exit.

Cloud tilted his head, and spoke as the door slid open. “What would you like to be called?”

“My name,” Sephiroth spoke softly, too tired, too confused as to what just happened to continue, why it happened, and left the patient alone in the hospital-like room.

* * *

Hojo. Will. Die. For the pain he caused My prince. But he had to be careful. He was strong enough to kill the scientist if he got close, but he wasn’t strong enough to get away with it. It angered him greatly, his hands itching to break holes in the wall. Whatever his prince had to endure as a child still haunted his prince now. But he had to control these impulses. He would not make the same mistake again. His prince deserved the perfection he failed to give his queen. Now he needed to weld the connection they both shared. He already looked back fondly on the moment in the middle of the night, finally treated as what he was. He was a weapon for her use. But he was also a tool for comfort. A toy for a child, a stuffed animal to hold for safety. Cloud almost smiled at the memory as he stared at the walls. But he was still being watched. Again.

When the scientist, no… when Hojo finally entered, Cloud was informed he should not attempt anything with his leg for at least a month. But the longer he’s weakend, the longer that bastard lives.

However, the scientist raised a hand and made a gesture toward the room through the one way glass. Almost immediately, the door opened to a young girl with red hair in mostly black clothing, a rougher fabric than what he was given. She adjusted a white bag in her hands, and nodded to the professor upon entry.

“She’s a part of the Turks,” Hojo explained. “An elite program, a type of special forces here. They investigate, interrogate, exterminate, basically whatever we see fit,” He spoke with power behind the ‘T’, then gestured to the woman. “This is Cissnei. She’ll be teaching you everything you need to know.”

Cloud carefully moved his eyes to the scientist. “What specifically…?”

“Well, what you’ve missed the past two thousand years,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We can’t expect you to assimilate into our society easily, but perhaps you can find someplace with more knowledge. In return for my research, of course.”

His predatory eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before he returned to calm and collected. “Very well...”

He scribbled something before clipping the pen to the board. “Glad you agree. Now excuse me.” Then he left, without another glance to either of them, though Cloud watched his location, even through the mirrored window.

The red haired girl approached him while he wasn't looking, and she only met his eyes when she was an inch away from the bed, gently placing the bag in his lap. “These are the clothes you were found in. We highly recommend excluding your pants to let your leg heal.”

Cloud was already opening the back like a child with a gift, pulling out his coat first and analyzing the sown scratches.

“We had them cleaned and repaired. We hope you’re satisfied.” She took the open seat as he continued to scan, frowning as he ran his thumb along the new patches.

Then he looked up to her and moved the clothes to his side. “Thank you...”

She nodded in response. “They said your throat will take another day or two to fully heal. After that it shouldn’t hurt so much to talk.”

He nodded in appreciation. Then he noticed her gloves. Both black, but only one covered her whole hand. She was a part of some kind of special force, right? The Turks? “What kind of weapon requires those gloves…?”

Cissnei had to look down at them to notice what he was talking about. She didn't think about them anymore. “Oh, these?” she held them up for a better view. “They’re the most effective for using a large shuriken.”

He tilted his head, so she elaborated.

“A type of throwing star.” She scanned him as well. “Do you know what that is?”

He shook his head.

“Well,” she almost laughed, “Then let’s start your lessons there.”

Cloud appreciated her aid, kindly smiling as she explained whatever she knew about their world, with him asking questions as she went on. But he hated where this aid came from. He needed to learn about this changed world, yes, and she seemed kind enough. Yet she is tied to her job. Perhaps learning her loyalty to this special program would aid him in his coming cover-up. He needed an opportunity, and he still needed it while he looked innocent. No more mistakes. No more failures. Everything must be perfectly clean. Not a drop of blood will tie back to him.

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: New baby Sephiroth content will not change this story. I already finished that section before the announcement. Though I am EXTREMELY excited to see the little Babyroth! (Check tags for more notes)

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