A/N:
I am having so much fun with this story! And it’s finally starting to get to the good stuff (meaning Seph of course). Since I started on this fic, I’ve been scouring ff.net trying to find stories about Sephiroth that are written in accordance to my taste and found few. I guess that’s one of the reasons why I started this in the first place.
My fav pairing of all time is actually Seph/Aeris, but there’s too many finished, high quality fics that star those two together. On the other hand, I’ve only found one good Seph/OC (own character) fic. Well, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don’t own ff7 or its characters or its ideas.
~Lady Sanzennine~
Hell, plane unknown:
He heard soft, cautious footsteps coming towards him. Lifting his head with great difficulty, he wondered sadly how long it had been since he had last heard a sound that was caused by a being other than himself. Since the day that he had been defeated and brought to this place of eternal damnation, he had been alone. Here in the silent darkness that was his personal hell, time did not exist. There was only eternity.
And the pain it brought with it.
Even a few days in this miserable place was enough to make a man regret every wrongdoing he had committed in his life. There was nothing to do but think and remember. He remembered it all, and regretted even more.
He wondered who it was that had decided to pay him a visit. He supposed this had to be a good thing. After all, it didn’t get worse than Hell. Then again…
A bright light appeared to the side, temporarily blinding him. Even as he shut his eyes against it he longed to see more of it. Light was just a distant memory in this prison for his soul. Until now.
“Geez. Does it have to be so dark and gloomy in here?” came a female voice from the direction of the light. She sounded rather uncomfortable.
“My lady,” another voice, this time male, responded, “This is Hell. It’s not meant to be a happy place.”
“No kidding. How do people stay sane in a place like this?” she asked.
The man didn’t answer. A few seconds passed and then he spoke again. “We’re here.”
The female gasped in disbelief. Gone was the man that had stood proud and tall as a holographic projection in her quarters. In the faint, flickering light of the torch that her escort carried, she could see the pitiful mess of a man that the confines of Hell had reduced him to. Her heart went out to him and for the moment, she could do nothing but stare.
Chained to the ice cold wall behind him, he was clothed only in the tattered remains of his once lustrous leather uniform. His glorious hair that had so reminded her of quicksilver was marred by the blood that flowed from unseen cuts on his scalp and his body was covered with lesions and bruises. She could see him squinting at her, his eyes unaccustomed to the light.
He could see nothing so he turned his mind to speculating as to who these two before him were. Perhaps they were here to torment him further. Would they show him more images of the atrocious deeds he had committed? Or perhaps…Did he dare hope? Perhaps they were here to take him out of this wretched place. No, that was far too much to hope for. He was a monster, and a monster he would forever remain. He deserved to rot here for all time.
Then she said the words that he had lost all hope in hearing.
Marianna shook herself slightly. She was here for a reason and the quicker they all left this horrible place, the better. She spoke.
“By order of Ilcaliaz, Goddess of Redemption, you, Sephiroth, are being temporarily released from your prison.”
He was vaguely aware that she was still speaking, but he heard no more. Freedom! His lips silently formed the word. A word had never tasted so sweet. He was being freed! Why? He did not know, and at the moment he did not care. All that mattered was that he could be able to see light again. He would be able to feel warmth again. He would be able to rest.
And then there was blackness. For the first time since his arrival in the abyss of Hell, he was granted blessed unconsciousness.
* * *
Heaven, 9th plane, private quarters:
Marianna paced the room anxiously. He had been asleep for several hours now, and she was anxious to do a lot of things.
For goodness’ sake girl, the guy’s just come out of Hell – literally. She told herself, Of course he’s going to be out like a rock. They don’t let you sleep there you know.
“Arg! But there’s so much to do!” she stated loudly to the wall.
She walked over to the bedside and looked down at him. She had cleaned him up easily enough with a simple cleansing spell, but the cuts and bruises still remained. She could heal those too, albeit with a lot more difficulty, but she could do it. Unfortunately, that ability required her to touch him and etiquette demanded that she ask before putting her hands all over his body. That was going to be awkward.
He looks almost angelic right now, she thought. In sleep, he almost looked peaceful, except for that nearly indiscernible frown that marred his otherwise flawless brow.
Giving in to temptation, she sat on the bed beside him and ran her fingers lightly through the hair at his crown, brushing it away from his face. With a sigh, she recalled her uncertainties from the other night. At first she had feared that she would look at him and see only a demon. But now, now she was having a hard time keeping in mind that he was a soul in need of cleansing. An agent could never forget what they were dealing with. The assignment hadn’t even started yet and she was already dangerously close to losing her head!
She got up to resume pacing, but instead walked into the bathroom adjoining the main room. Bracing her hands on either side of the sink, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The girl behind the mirror appeared to be in her late teens, but that had nothing to do with how long she had actually existed. She was small, with mid-back length raven hair inherited from her mother and dark brown eyes. She was not, however, the striking beauty that her mother had been. Vienna Harmen had been a woman that men could not keep their eyes off of. Marianna on the other hand, was much closer to average. Her thick hair was shot through with individual strands of grey and her eyes held none of the mysterious allure that had belonged to her mother.
“And just how am I supposed to keep from feeling self conscious when around that guy?” She asked the mirror. Her reflection of course, did not answer. With nothing left to do, she wandered back into the bedroom to wait for Sephiroth to awaken.
* * *
He was aware of his surroundings before he became fully conscious. Even without opening his eyes, he knew that he had not dreamed the events that had transpired before he lost consciousness. The Gods had indeed smiled down upon him.
He was lying on a bed – one that felt like the softest thing ever created compared to the stone floor of his Hell. He was covered with something, probably a blanket. He noticed that the air was fresh and sweet, but more than that, it was warm. The cold had never bothered him before, but after recent experiences, the cold was something he loathed to remember.
He opened his eyes. Their piercing, mako green gaze was locked on the ceiling above him and they quickly adjusted to the brightness of the room. Turning his head slightly to the side, he silently absorbed his surroundings and attempted to figure out where he was.
How very interesting, he thought. The furniture and decorating taste isn’t masculine. I’m in the bedroom of a woman?
Having grown tired of lying prone on the bed, he tried to sit up. Suddenly his body was engulfed in searing pain. It felt as if every nerve in his body was screaming their protest against his movement. Letting out a low groan of pain, he lay back down breathing hard.
He had forgotten the condition that he was in. Injured beyond anything he had experienced before, he was completely helpless. It was a feeling that he didn’t like in the slightest.
Then she was beside him.
He looked up at her, his face a stoic mask. Though not striking, she was pretty, he supposed. She was leaning over him with a concerned expression on her face. Was this the girl who had come to him earlier?
All of a sudden his mind was filled with questions. They were the unanswered questions that had plagued his soul since his death. Or, not so much since his death as since he arrived in the after-life. They had revealed to him the truth – that he was not a Cetra, that Jenova was not his mother, that his real mother had been a kind human woman who had loved him very much. Then they had showed him his crimes. The decision had been made quickly and seconds later, before the shock of the truth had even begun to wear off, he was already in Hell, chained to the wall and doomed to eternal despair.
There in the darkness, with only the faint green glow of his eyes for light, he had stayed. He had thought of his real mother – Lucrecia, who he would never lay eyes on. He had remembered the day he first heard Jenova’s voice whispering within the realm of his mind. Her voice had been so full of hate when she spoke of the humans and so full of false love when she spoke to him. There in the darkness, with the knowledge that he had been lied to by the “woman” that he had obeyed without question, he had recalled the countless people that he’d slaughtered in cold blood. And he had wept.
Thinking back on it now, he realized that during his life he would’ve been disgusted with himself if he had ever broken down that way. But then, in the unyielding darkness, he could have done nothing to prevent the tears.
But worse than the knowledge of his unforgivable crimes was the fact that he did not know what had become of those he’d killed, or his mother, Lucrecia. He had realized later that it was just another part of his punishment – to always wonder and never know of the fate of his victims, and the one person who might have loved him.
“How do you feel?” the girl leaning over him asked gently.
So, this was the girl that had come for him earlier, he concluded, recognizing her voice. He pushed the questions in his mind away. He needed to focus on the present, and find out why he was here.
“Where am I?” he asked, pleased that at least his voice remained unaffected by the trials of Hell.
He saw her blink several times in surprise at his question. Then she answered, “Heaven, ninth plane. You’re in the private quarters’ section of this plane.”
So he was in someone’s bedroom. Since this girl was the only one here aside from himself, it was safe to assume that these quarters belonged to her.
“Um, you didn’t answer my question,” she said nervously. “How do you feel? Can you move?”
Sephiroth paused before answering. How did he feel? He felt worse than he could ever recall feeling in his whole existence. He’d nearly died many times during his life and none of those experiences could compare to what he felt now. His body usually healed wounds at a phenomenal rate, but he supposed the punishment of the Gods was rather different from normal injuries. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.
“I’m fine.” He answered shortly.
She raised an eyebrow in response. “Riiight,” she said, not believing him in the slightest. “Look, I can heal you, but I have to touch whatever area I’m healing.”
His gaze didn’t leave her as he considered her words. After a few moments of silence from him, she turned her eyes away self-consciously.
He didn’t want her to touch him. Even now, he still held an aversion to physical contact. Touch brought pain – it always did. Even though he knew that the girl had no intention of hurting him, he still didn’t want to be touched. Unfortunately, the thought of being crippled like this for any longer was even more unbearable. He reluctantly nodded his consent.
She looked at him and smiled kindly, as if to reassure him. Then she blushed.
“Uh,” she began uncomfortably, “Just how much of your body is damaged?”
Now he understood her awkwardness. She had said that she needed to touch an area to heal it. The situation was somewhat amusing actually, but he didn’t let it show.
“My arms, legs, chest and back,” he answered steadily.
“Oh, good,” she breathed, looking visibly relieved. “Just hang on a sec. I’ll be right back.”
Sephiroth watched her walk to the nearby desk and pull out a pair of scissors from the drawer.
“I’m going to need to remove some of your clothing,” she told him. She sounded embarrassed again. “And since it would hurt you too much take them off, well, you know.”
She returned to his side and refused to meet his eyes. “May I?” she asked, pointing to the blanket covering him.
Sephiroth nodded once more, reminding himself that she was trying to help him, and that she was in no way a threat.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the covers off his body. He was dressed only in the tattered, but clean, remains of his usual black pants. She worked quickly, wanting very much to get this over and done with so that she could run away. After disposing of the pieces of clothing she removed, leaving him in a pair of shorts, she began the healing.
Her hands came down lightly upon his battered chest. His body tensed involuntarily.
* * *
Heaven help me! Her mind yelled, His body is covered in ugly bruises, cuts and burns and I’m still thinking about how gorgeous he looks! This is so very bad!
Forcing the distracting thoughts out of her head with a violent mental shove, she turned her attention to the task at hand. She could feel him tense beneath her hands.
Okay, he either
doesn’t like to be touched or he doesn’t like being touched by me. Oh, I hope
it’s not me!
Stop that! Came the mental reply.
She closed her eyes and gulped while she tried to prepare herself for the inevitable pain.
Within seconds, her hands became unnaturally warm as the energy transfer began. Her healing ability was fairly impressive for someone of her ranking. When she was finished, there wouldn’t be a single mark to show for the terrible ordeal that he’d been through. The downside was that to heal someone, she had to absorb their pain.
This was going to hurt like nothing she had ever experienced before.
Her breathing turned into short gasps and her brow furrowed against the onslaught as the process began. The intensity of the pain increased rapidly until there was nothing else that she could focus on. She was experiencing exactly what he had when he received those wounds.
And then it stopped, leaving her dazed and confused.
Opening her eyes weakly, she looked down at her hands. They were imprisoned in his much larger ones. Turning her eyes up to his face she noticed that he looked…different somehow. Was that concern in his eyes?
Keep dreaming kiddo, she told herself.
There was pain written on his face too, she noticed. That’s when she realized that he was no longer lying down.
“What are you doing?” she asked him with great worry. She knew that he could barely move and now he’d dragged himself into a sitting position!
“Why were you screaming?” he countered. It was interesting how he managed to keep his voice neutral while in such pain.
She pulled her hands out of his, too dazed to fully realize that he had held her hand. “When I heal, I absorb the pain of my patient,” she admitted. “But it’s nothing really. It doesn’t last and there are no physical effects.”
He continued to look at her with that unreadable expression. “You would do that for me?” he asked quietly, and then abruptly broke eye contact as he realized what he’d just said.
“Yes,” she answered evenly. “Now lie back down so I can finish.”
He complied, though not terribly willingly. Knowing what to expect, the pain was more bearable this time. Her hands moved of their own accord from one place to the next. Then, what felt like a year later, it was over.
With a final, strangled gasp, she clutched the nearest bedpost for support. Her vision was swimming and she was on the verge of collapse. Her head was bent low as she tried to calm her breathing.
She felt a hand on her arm. Bringing her head up, their eyes met and it was clear that his pain was gone.
“Thank you,” he said.
She smiled at him in return. Her pain was quickly ebbing, and temporarily, it took her shyness with it. “Don’t mention it.”
She stood up and began walking away. “I’m going to go take a shower,” she told him. “It’s late and we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.” With that, she disappeared behind the bathroom door.
* * *
He didn’t even know her name, Sephiroth realized suddenly. She’d taken him out of Hell, into her home, and then healed him causing herself great pain, and he didn’t even know her name.
He was grateful beyond words, and he wanted her to know that.
What has gotten into me? He wondered. I’ve never cared about expressing gratitude before.
It wasn’t just that she had healed him, though that in itself was miraculous and far more than he could have asked for. When she had touched him, a myriad of emotions had assaulted his senses. At first there had been discomfort and a burning desire to remove her hands. But then, when it started, there was wonder and a great feeling of release. He had felt the effects of her touch immediately, and he hadn’t wanted it to stop. As she drew away the hurt from his body, he could have sworn that she was also healing his soul.
That’s when she had cried out and he’d realized what was happening. He knew at that moment how her ability worked. An incredible feeling of guilt and unworthiness had flooded through him then. He was a murderer, a monster, a being that had already been condemned to Hell. She shouldn’t be touching someone like him. So much blood stained his hands, and though he knew it was absurd, he still felt that if he touched her, she would be contaminated.
He leaned his head against the wall behind the bed and tried not to think about how incredibly soft her hands had felt in his calloused ones.
He still hadn’t discovered why he was here, he remembered. “So many questions,” he said softly.
The bathroom door opened and he automatically turned his head towards it. She stepped out dressed in a flowery cotton nightgown that covered her from he neck to ankle.
Cute, he thought, immediately followed by, Where did that come from?
“You can use the shower now, if you want,” she said, keeping her eyes averted.
She can’t bring herself to look at me, he noticed. Am I that much of a monster?
“I will, thank you,” he told her, betraying none of his inner turmoil.
She stepped aside as he walked towards the bathroom.
Turning to look at her over his shoulder he said, “You never told me your name.”
“It’s Marianna,” she replied, still looking away from him. “Marianna Phoenix Harmen.”
* * *
She collapsed upon the bed in a sprawled, undignified position. What a day! She was tired beyond all reason and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep like a rock. She’d do it too – if it didn’t mean that Sephiroth would step out from his shower and not know what to do.
Oh no! Sleep. Sephiroth. Here. Crap.
Her bedroom wasn’t terribly big, but it did have a nice big couch. She’d make do with the couch tonight and insist on him taking the bed. It was the only courteous thing to do. The question remained however, how in Heaven would she be able to fall sleep with him so close by? Last night had been restless enough and tomorrow their mission started. She really couldn’t afford to lose another night’s sleep.
He’s gorgeous, her
stray thoughts sighed dreamily. And now
that he’s cleaned up and doesn’t have a scratch on his body…
Do you realize that you’re going to share your room with a psychopathic killer tonight? Her mind asked her in a calm voice.
He’s not a psychopathic killer! She retorted.
Oh, that’s right.
He’s just a murderer that killed lots of people because the voices in his head
told him to.
Would you shut
up?! She yelled at herself silently. He
can’t hurt you. Can Not.
I am so tired.
She heard the bathroom door begin to open so she pulled herself up abruptly, causing dark spots to cloud her vision. That’s when she realized that he had been brought to her room wearing only a pair of pants, which she had then proceeded to cut up leaving so little that any self respecting, heterosexual man wouldn’t be caught dead in it under normal circumstances. That meant that he had more than likely tossed out the remainder of his “clothing” if it could even be called that now, meaning that he had no clothes. All hers were far too small to fit him so he’d have to make do with towels and blankets and such, meaning that he would spend tonight sleeping naked – within three meters of her. It was too much.
I can’t handle
this.
When Sephiroth stepped out of the bathroom, all he was greeted with a loud thump as Marianna collapsed on the floor.
A/N: Woah. Geez, that turned out way longer than I thought it would. Okay, I’m really anxious to know how this turned out since it was so much longer than the other two.
I want to explain Sephiroth’s personality in this fic. If he doesn’t act the way that you think he should, remember, he’s spent a while in Hell and he now knows the truth about Jenova and all that.
You may recall that in this chapter, Marianna mentioned something about her gorgeous mother Vienna. Those of you who’ve read my other story “Mistress of Fire” or “Lady of the Flame” (I screwed up when naming the story so it’s called one on my website and the other on fanfiction.net) may recognize Vienna as the heroine from that story. Those of you who don’t – go read about her! I’d love you forever.
Anyways, it’s late and this has gone on for way too long.
Coming up next: Seph and Marianna find out about where they’re going and go there. Yeesh, sorry about that really crappy description…
~Lady Sanzennine~