I just started writing one night after reading over some Sephiroth and Genesis fanfics here. I was actually rather proud that people seemed to exude a lot of effort and creativity into giving these two extremely interesting characters an adequate backstory. Sephiroth has long-since been my all-time favourite character, although Genesis' appearance in Crisis Core left so much to question, my imagination could not help but fill in some of the blanks.

Tell me what you think, as I ponder how to continue this spacious blurb of obvious affection for my silver-haired one.

By the way, think Genesis with the first line. Oyasumi nasai, it's been a two-hour project and it's time for bed --; first fanfic in a long, long while, so please critique with all your raging fury.

Thanks, stick close, there will be more!

He was a man on fire.

Every essence of him was fierce, intense, and utterly unique. Just like a copy of himself, but a distinctly opposing force. He proposed himself in riddles and in prose to keep the distrustful world at bay. A familiar enigma. That's where the interest laid. The path of least resistance was never an appealing one; he always strived for that which offered a challenge. Nothing else could keep his interest.

Sephiroth, a SOLDIER 1st class general, found himself dwelling on his contemplations a bit too much. Alone in his spacious Midgar high-rise, there was naught else to do. No one ever visited. The silence was to his liking. Usually. However, in this moment, he almost wished for some company to distract from the thoughts that wracked his mind. Thoughts which weren't something he could shut out. He even wished for his usually noisy cellphone to rattle with someone calling, desiring his presence for this reason or that. If only, he thought, for the simplicity of being able to stare emptily at a TV set, or read a book. But the ponderings were too loud, he had already tried. Such means of distraction were too simple to hold any impact, and the phone lay still, dejected on the glass coffee table.

Genesis moved with a purpose, though that purpose eluded him. He was not, for once with anyone, sure of his friend's motives. In reality, he had no clue. Sometimes, Sephiroth would be instructing a class, or studying in the library, and suddenly, without any hint of a presence, he would feel a crisp, intent gaze bearing down on him, look up and see the ice-blue eyes of the other man, watching him with keen interest, as if trying to analyze at the same level about him what Sephiroth contemplated about Genesis right now.

Someone so confusing came from such an apparent simple background, raised in Banora, a sleepy farm town. Although, at times, Genesis would elude to something more, a darker past which he would not talk about in depth to anyone. Something that, Sephiroth deduced from the small snippets he had been given, was more akin to his own upbringing; sterile and cold, with much deception. Even Angeal did not seem to truly know him.

His childhood... that was another story completely. He liked not to think about it, what he could remember, anyway. Some parts seemed purposefully concealed like an eclipse of the sun over the Snowfields, all the black and white melding into each other to form a gradient with huge parts blotted out of the spectrum. Like the thin spaces between a bar code, but blurred. The parts he could remember were not worth remembering, and left him disturbed and emotionally separated from others who would try to get close. Not that anyone dared. Even without reason, people were afraid of him, timid at best. It made it easier in the long run. Less to deal with, no bother with rejection, misunderstandings, or false pretenses. No one to bother with at all.

Sephiroth shook his head, reaching for his glass of water, taking a sip. An open book bore testament to his distraction, long forgotten on the opposite side of the black couch. It stared open-faced at the ceiling, regretful in its wealth of knowledge that went unsaturated. Sephiroth resisted the urge to pour himself another glass of wine. He knew he had to wake up early and attend to the new trainees. Then again... it wasn't the first time he'd gone the day without sleep; far from it. Countless nights he would stay awake out of thoughtfulness or haunting dreams. He had become somewhat accustomed to foregoing sleep because of them.

His dreams were all vague in the morning, but almost always turned lucid, the bad ones anyway. Seemingly coaxing at first, a haunting presence lingered even after he awoke. But in the dreamworld, it was a familiar entity that constantly made a cameo. Tender, at first. Then the fangs would show. Eventually everything would be eaten up by a void of lonely blackness. Shinra. SOLDIER. Everything --descending into the shrieking depths with a female's voice keening his name, laughing endlessly until he awoke, or screaming for him to rise to attention.

Only in his dreams did he face anything he could actually call 'fear'. He guessed only his own mind could conjure up something worth fearing.

Sephiroth leaned forward, resting his forehead in his palm. A slight twinge of a nerve in his temple signified his tiredness and an oncoming headache. Perhaps he would have that wine, after all.

He rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen. It was large, all stainless steel appliances and black marble countertops. Too much space and expense for one man whom was hardly ever home, he thought. He reached into the barren refrigerator and pulled out the half-empty bottle of well-aged, dark red, almost black sangiovese. He poured it into the crystal glass, took a swig, and made his way back to his usual spot on the sofa. Often times, he found himself falling asleep here rather than in his bedroom. There was an atmosphere in the living room that was more open, less defined for sleep that made him feel slightly safer and less susceptible to his nightmares. Often times, sleep came out of pure exhaustion rather than willing surrender.

Tonight, he wondered if he would have any at all.

The trend had continued for the past few nights. Each night, keeping him up later and later. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He imagined it was because of the lack of activity in SOLDIER. With no release for his frustrations, they stacked up, one on top of another. He wondered if he could ever live without the struggle of battle. The most minuscule morsels of combat served only to feed a greater, ever-increasing hunger for challenge and conquest. His skills had reached their peak, without a purposeful opponent. It was an endless void, like in his dreams, that took on a life of its own.

Maybe that's where Genesis played his part. Like an actor, maybe he could be the insert that finally stirred him from his complacency, his plateau. Perhaps that's why his thoughts led him to Genesis time and again. Something about his intense friend and his selfish wandering was alluring in the hope of some satisfaction, some sense of contentment. Maybe Genesis was the one who could fill the void on these countless lonely times.

Sephiroth smirked to himself. It was ridiculous to think that after so long, someone could change the way his cold heart was set. Yet, still, the friendship they all shared had already bridged some sort of gap. And although they were comrades, backing each other in life or death situations, each one still felt alone in their own respect.

Within the distance, an invisible glue bound them together. Angeal's loyalty and level-headedness, Genesis' intensity and wandering thirst, and Sephiroth's ... maybe someone else could fill in the blank better than he could. He was always at a loss to define himself, although he never agreed with people's statements and assumptions of him. He had yet to find the real, true 'Sephiroth', aside from someone lost on a cold field of battle where the only heat came from bloodshed and quick decisiveness.

In the empty, stoic apartment, a war raged in his head to counterbalance. Only this fight could not be won, as the enemies were undefined. You cannot fight what you do not know, and even as the mystery intrigued him, his mind was tired and sought rest.

Sephiroth leaned back, resting his back against the cool leather. He had the luxury of leaving his air conditioner at frigid temperatures. Such is the benefit of working for the largest power company on the planet. The thermostat sat at about 68 degrees, aiding his tiredness. He folded an arm behind his head and tried to close his eyes. The light was still on, but he almost preferred it that way. With darkness, his keen imagination took on a life of his own and painted ominous images on the backs of his eyelids.

Perhaps it was penance for his ruthlessness in combat. Who knew... it wasn't something he dwelt on for long. Angeal said to him once, 'If you surrender yourself to yesterday, you won't have enough to spare for tomorrow'. Always the sensible one, while Genesis and himself were so busy testing the outer courts of the boundaries.

They were more alike than either man was willing to admit, he thought absently. He realized his eyelids were no longer shut as he identified the pattern of the stucco ceiling with demure observation. Little dust bunnies and jagged points seemed to pop out in his acute vision. This sense of alertness was growing tiring. He reached for another swig of wine, then rolled to face the back of the couch, trying again to fall to rest, his forehead against the chill leather.

The clock beeped. 3:00am. He knew without looking. He had two and a half hours to rest. Finally, something in him conceded to deciphering the riddles another day, and he drifted off into a somewhat tumultuous slumber.