|
|
Hojo was calling him.
Heaving an annoyed sigh, Sephiroth put down what he had been reading and swatted some silver strands away from his eyes before standing. The young man plodded into the lab, barefoot. "Yes?" Green eyes scanned the room but the Professor was nowhere he could see.
"Take your shirt off," came the command from behind a lab table.
Must be getting something for another stupid experiment, he thought, lifting his shirt and dropping it on the floor. "Done," he announced.
The old man came over, injection kit in hand. "Just a little shot, my boy."
Sephiroth rolled his eyes and took a seat on the counter. "Well hurry up with it." Closing his eyes he drew a deep breath and waited.
So predictable, Sephiroth, Hojo thought with a silent chuckle as he removed a razor from a nearby drawer. I promise this is the last scar I inflict upon you. With that thought, Hojo picked up the razor and slashed his son.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Something was wrong. Vincent had not see Sephiroth all day, and he knew something must have happened.
He also knew who was obviously the cause of it.
"Hojo?" he called sternly, walking into the unlocked laboratory. He heard cursing and clanking metal coming from Sephiroth's room and took a few cautious steps in that direction.
The Professor came out, tripping on his own two feet in his rush, carrying a tray which displayed various types of medical equipment. His hands were covered in blood.
A feeling of terror washed over the Turk, and all he could do for a moment was stare in shock and hope his eyes were playing tricks on him.
"He's fine, Valentine," Hojo snapped, setting down his equipment. "There
was just a bit more blood than I expected."
He stuck his hands
under the faucet and washed the evidence away.
Vincent found his voice, and hissed, "what did you do to him?"
"It was an experiment," the older man answered simply, drying his hands and pushing his glasses back into place. "A normal person would have died, but we both know Sephiroth is far from normal." Laughing gleefully, a noise that caused Vincent to wince in pain, he added, "he's a perfect specimen. Couldn't have wished for better."
The anger boiled within him, and Vincent barely restrained himself from grabbing his gun and riddling Hojo with every bullet in the clip. He said, "how badly did you cut him this time?" voice shaking.
Hojo ignored the question and simply replied, "this was the last time, Valentine."
"I don't believe one word that comes past your lips," Vincent hissed. "Your own son. How could you *ever*--"
"Science, Valentine," the Professor cut him off sternly, "by now you should know."
"No," Vincent whispered, a dark edge to his voice. "I will *never* understand you."
Beady eyes glared at him from behind thin rimmed glasses. "I have to leave for a bit. Watch him."
"Fine."
The Professor gave the Turk one last disapproving look before he left the lab.
Vincent drew a breath and eyed the door to his angel's room before taking any steps. Sephiroth, I promised to never let him hurt you again. I'm sorry.
Sephiroth lay on his back in his bed. The Turk tiptoed over, staring down at that peaceful face. His angel looked paler than usual, tears dried on his smooth cheeks. The Turk found his throat closing up and his knees shaking as his eyes fell upon the bloody bandage across his angel's torso.
"Oh, angel," he whispered helplessly, kneeling down besides him. "Beautiful, beautiful Sephiroth...I'm sorry...so sorry I couldn't do anything to stop this...." Leaning over he lightly kissed Sephiroth's forehead, an unwanted tear slipping down his cheek.
The young man reacted to the touch, moaning softly, his hand searching for something to hold. The Turk took it, entwining their fingers and holding it tightly. Tears silently streamed down his face, his soul laden with guilt. How can I live with myself knowing I let Hojo cut him again? I didn't keep my promise. Again he kissed that heavenly face, taking away the tears embedded there.
Sephiroth's piercing eyes flickered open at Vincent's soft touch and he shifted, reaching down to take his lips in a gentle caress.
The older man drew away quickly. "Angel....I'm sorry. Does it hurt?"
"It always hurts," he replied weakly, eyes glazed over. "Don't be sorry, Vincent."
"I'm *so* sorry," the Turk apologized, leaning over him. "I let this happen."
"You weren't even there," he replied, giving the older man's hand a gentle squeeze. "Don't blame yourself, love."
Shaking his head, Vincent broke out into sobs. "I hate seeing you like this, angel. It hurts me. It hurts me so much." He broke down, hysterical, and Sephiroth brought his head down, letting him cry into his shoulder.
"Don't cry, my love," the silver haired boy whispered. "I'm all right. I've lost blood, and it will scar, but I'm alive." He paused and added, voice softer, "but I shouldn't be." Sephiroth placed his lips next to the Turk's ear and muttered, "why am I alive, Vincent? I know you know."
Vincent cried harder, arms going around the boy. "No....no....."
Sephiroth frowned, covering his lover's hand with his own. "Shush....Vincent....sweet love....it's all right. Please....look at me. Kiss me. I need you."
The Turk looked up and, despite the tears, took Sephiroth's lips deeply into a passionate kiss. The boy groaned, drawing Vincent in deeper.
Drawing back, the Turk said, "Sephiroth, my beautiful, beautiful angel--I would *die* for you." He took the cold hand he held so tightly in his own and brought it to his heart. "When Hojo hurts you, he hurts me. My heart beats for you--only for you. Always. For all eternity and beyond." He kissed Sephiroth's hand, enjoying the cold, sterile taste that was and always would be his angel.
"You complete me, Vincent. Without you there is no life. Only suffering." He smiled weakly. "The pain of the razor slashing my skin is insignificant to the pain I would feel if you were gone."
The sound of a door disrupted them, and with one final squeeze of his hand, Vincent stood, crimson eyes latching onto green eyes clouded with Jenova. Smiling he mouthed, "I love you."
Sephiroth mimicked him, smiling weakly.
Hojo entered, looking at them suspiciously. "You're up, Sephiroth?"
The boy turned his face away, suddenly emotionless. "I am."
"Good."
"Why did you cut me?" he snapped, eyes squeezing shut.
Hojo let the words hang in the air a moment before answering. "It was an accident," he lied gently, eyes being sure to avoid the Turk. "Always an accident."
"Five accidents," Sephiroth whispered, eyes remaining closed. "When I was six, when I was nine, when I twelve, when I was fourteen and again now. All accidents. Perhaps next time you should try a different story."
"Don't talk back to me," Hojo hissed, eyes narrowing. "I didn't raise you that way."
"He wasn't raised to be abused either," Vincent cried, turning to Hojo.
"You keep out of this, Turk," the older man snapped. "You're not involved."
Before Vincent could reply, Sephiroth stepped in softly, "you never comforted me, Hojo. It was always Vincent by my side to dry my tears. Seems he is involved after all."
Hojo growled, "shut up," and turned to glare at the Turk. "I don't know what's going on here, Valentine, but you had better leave right now."
"I'll go," Vincent began, stopping and turning back when he reached the door, "but if you hurt him, I'll find out. And I'll come back."
Hojo was so busy glaring after the Turk that he didn't notice Sephiroth's pleased smile.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Vincent walked into his quarters that night, tired, and still shaken by what had happened earlier. He stumbled over to his bed, intent on just sleeping in his clothes, drifting away from every uncomfortable sensation. He toed his shoes off and dropped his jacket, eyes half lidded. As he went to climb in, a hand took his wrist and jerked him forward. The Turk stumbled, coming to rest besides a familiar warm body, wrapped in gauze. Two cold, sterile hands ran themselves through his hair.
"Angel, what are you--won't Hojo--"
"Hojo has been summoned to Junon. He left." Vincent felt two arms draw him in and soon he was pressed directly against Sephiroth, face to face. "He can't check on me even if he wanted to."
"Angel, you're hurt...." His fingers trailed through soft silver strands.
"I'm completely healed." Drawing away the gauze, Vincent saw he was right. The gash that would have killed any other man was now just another discolored scar. One of five. One of too many.
"Too too many," Vincent mumbled, bringing his lips to the young man's stomach. Gently he kissed each and every scar, hands trailing over his lover's thighs. "No more, my angel. I'll protect you. If he ever hurts you...."
Sephiroth moaned sweetly, arching his back to meet those warm lips on his skin. "No more?"
Vincent looked up, taking the young man tightly in his arms. "No. Never.
There will be no more pain. And this time I won't let you down. I swear
it."
END