Amazing Grace
by Katie
Disclaimer: Sephy ain't mine, nor is the entire concept of FF7. This story isn't mine, either-it's the spawn of some unknown deity and Christmas (or actually listening to a good, well-delivered sermon). It's also rather stupid. Oh well. Don't blame me.
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The winter wind howled through the air, enveloping any foolish enough to be outside in a blanket of cold. Flirtatiously she gave away frostbite kisses. Her snowy dress flowed as she danced over field and hillside. Father Winter's favorite daughter had no inhabitations.
A solitary figure broke the monotony of the landscape, the wind's unwilling partner in her frenzied dance. Snowflakes covered him from head to toe, blending in with his equally-white hair, and draining his outfit of color. Only his green eyes remained untouched, burning, impervious to the December chill. He trudged along, step by never faltering step, eyes looking forward and inside.
The Reunion draws closer...our time is nearly here. I can feel it running down my spine...I can taste the sweetness of my rightful place, of justice finally achieved.
He smirked at the egotistical poetry of his thoughts.
Justice? An idle concept, spawned by philosophers and children. There is no justice. Might makes right.
Another smirk.
I have been hanging around mere humans for too long. Their cliche is rubbing off on me.
I must focus on the plan. The puppet is not yet on the string.
His eyes slowly focused, and he paused to take in his surroundings.
Idiot! You didn't even realize where you were. You'll get yourself killed if you don't pay more attention. Find some shelter. Can't summon when you're frozen solid.
But where to find it...
He looked around him once again. No buildings in sight, only snow. That he ignored, struggling to see something, anything, beyond its icy walls. A faint cry rose up from behind the wind's wail.
An ewe, perhaps? What moron would leave an animal outside in a storm such as this? He paused. A human moron. Whatever it may be, no intelligent wild animal would be out in this weather. So shelter must be nearby.
He strained his hearing, and through some miracle of fate managed to follow it. As he reached the apex of the hill, he caught sight of a building. The tip of its roof was adorned with a cross, and a facsimile of a barn stood before it.
Cross...barn....church. Of the Christian sect. Obviously not Franciscan.
He continued down the hill, the cry getting stronger. He passed the stable scene, the angels and shepherds and infant within covered with snow. To his surprise, however, there was no animal in sight, but the sound was now clearly audible. Puzzled, he continued to follow it to the steps of the church. He knelt before a reed basket, and opened it with uncharacteristic gentleness. His eyes widened with surprise upon beholding the child within.
What the h-
The child abruptly resumed its wailing, cutting him off mid-exclamation. Its skin was turning blue, and tremors racked its tiny body. With barely a thought he removed the infant from the basket and cradled it to his chest, wrapping his coat around it to seal in the warmth. Its breath on his skin sent shivers down his spine.
What are you doing? Kill the brat and be done with it. It's human.
Sephiroth ignored the voice and knocked, pounded, actually, on the heavy oak door. He waited an eternity for it to open.
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It took some moments for Father Thomas Michaels to register the pounding on his parish door. Making a hurried sign of the cross, he finished his prayers to the Blessed Mother, and rushed to open it.
The figure outside could barely be called human, so covered was it with ice and snow. Only when it looked up did Father Michaels recognize his guest.
Sephiroth! he breathed.
Oh dear Lord, is this how my parish is to go, in the smoke and flames of Hell?
An infant's cry pierced the old father's thoughts, and he suddenly became aware of their other companion. In the Great Satan''s arms nestled a nearly-frozen child.
I found her on your doorstep, Sephiroth said coolly. Apparently the wind drowned out the cries.
All thoughts of danger fled. Father Michaels ushered Sephiroth and his charge inside, and closed the door behind them.
There's a fire burning in the kitchen, he instructed, pointing to a door at the other end of the hall. Remove her clothes and wrap her up in one of the towels. I'll bring some dry clothes. Sweet Pulcheria, if you hadn't found her...
Sephiroth nodded as the old man hurried away, shaking his head and murmuring prayers of thanks.
You're inside. Now kill the brat and the priest and be done with them!
Sephiroth met the infant's gaze, her eyes the mirror image of his own. Her cries had faded into a gentle whimpering.
Whiny human brat.
His diaper was dirty. It felt icky.
Ga! Gah!
He cried out, wanting desperately to be clean. And warm. It was so cold...
Gah! Giah!
His wails got louder and louder, but nobody heard.
Sephiroth noted with some surprise that he had already changed the child's clothing.
I must have done it while lost in thought. He shook his head. It must be the night. I'm losing focus.
Kill the humans and sleep, my firstborn. You will feel better in the morning.
Sephiroth continued to ignore the voice, and picked up the little girl again just as the priest walked in. The old man smiled at the child, and laid the clothes on the table.
God bless Sister Marion, he said. She keeps many supplies for children around. I'm afraid I never thought of the possibility.
Father Michaels walked toward the fire, and set about preparing a warm bottle of milk. He found the task slightly troublesome, for his old hands shook with arthritis and agitation. He eyed Sephiroth.
Should I ask him if he's hungry? he wondered. He's Sephiroth! Say one thing wrong and he'll kill you! Take the child and flee.
But he's holding her so gently... The old priest sighed, and shook his head. Ah well, if Christ could lunch with tax collectors, I can sup with Sephiroth.
Are you hungry...sir? he asked.
Sephiroth blinked, surprised.
Ah...no......thank you, he stammered.
Mind if I rustle up something for myself?
Sephiroth shook his head.
Here you go, Father Michaels said, handing Sephiroth the bottle. I'm afraid these hands are too old to feed her. Nearly broke the bottle trying to make it. I'll gather up some breads and cheeses.
He scurried off, leaving Sephiroth once more alone with the infant and his thoughts.
The snow looked so pretty...His eyes widened in awe as the silvery crystals drifted down from the clouds.
What are you looking at, boy? his nurse snapped. Come away from the window!
But the snow, Nana...
SLAP!
Beastly child! You will obey me! Professor Hojo does not want you near the windows, and THAT IS FINAL!
No, please don't....I don't want to go!
The two doctors ignored his pleas, carrying him roughly to Hojo's laboratory.
The professor smiled evilly at the child.
Come here, boy.
Sephiroth trembled, knowing what was to come.
Hojo's face darkened in anger.
I said COME HERE!
He grabbed the boy's arm, and dropped him heavily down on the exam bed.
Sephiroth's tremors got worse as the professor got out his needle...
I was so alone...
Humans are evil! We must take back what is ours!
Nobody was there, nobody understood...
Destroy them all!
Nobody cared for me, I never knew parental affection...
I am your mother!
I just wanted to be held...
Thoughts swirled through his mind, as chaotic and disorderly as that day in Nibelheim. Two natures battled with each other for supremacy.
But they all faded into the background as Sephiroth gazed into the little girl's eyes. She watched him so steadfastly...Sephiroth knew that infants could not look outside their own wants and needs, that it would be years before they realized the world did not revolve around them, yet he could not help but feel that she was different, that the warmth and compassion he saw in her eyes was real. That was all it took to still the voices in his mind and silence all his demons.
For a night, Sephiroth was free.
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Fini