In This Together Chapter 1: A Series of Firsts, a final fantasy vii fanfic

Title: A Series of Firsts

Author: joudama

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7 (Crisis Core)

Rating: G

Word count: 4300ish

Summary: As long as they were together, she figured, everything would be fine.

A/N: This started out covering the first two years Gen and Angeal were in school, then it did what all my fic did, and got too long. So this is just the first year; the second year is going to be the fic "Temper Tantrums and Breaking Pencils." This is a bit short, alas. The next story will have more of an actual story, promise. ^^;; Also, I'm not that happy with this; I've been pretty sick lately and off my game, and I'm terribly afraid it shows... I apologize in advance if this isn't up to my normal level.

The town of "Tanava" comes from the river "Tanais" (also Tanakvísl) which is where the Vanir clan of gods connected to fertility and apples are from, in Vanaland. And go on, ask me how close "Vanir" and "Vanaland" in katakana are to "Banora." Go on. Dare ya (hint: when I played CC and before I knew it was "Banora," I interpreted the katakana as "Vanola.") XD

Yes, I am the founder of the Overthinker's Club, and there is indeed a reason why I should never be allowed loose on wikipedia unsupervised. ^^;;

And nakedly stealing from my own life, what happens to Gen and Angeal with reading is so genked from my own first grade experience. I taught myself to read when I was three, and when I got to first grade, my teacher was WTFing hard core over what to do with a first grader who could not only read, but was reading at a third grade reading level. XD;; I was ahead of all my reading classes until 3rd grade, when they gave me "free reading" for nearly the entire year until they caught people up. Yeah, I was a nerd even then. ^^;;

Also, with about the way languages are taught, I'm sort of genking how Taiwan and China does it with learning Mandarin--starting the first year in the native 'dialect', then switching over to the 'standard' language. So the first two years of school in Banora are taught in Mideelian, but everything after that is taught only in Standard. This is why pretty much everyone on the planet can speak Standard--it's what they learn and use at school, even if they don't use it at home, and so are fully fluent.

...I'll stop being as much of a nerd now. ^^;;

She'd known the day was coming, of course, but still, there was nothing that really prepared you for the reality of going to register your child for school. Gillian took Angeal with her, of course--he was far too young to be left alone for long, for all Angeal was a good boy who never caused problems or got into mischief...much. Overly prim and fussy though he was, he was still only five-going-on-six years old, and that was old enough to make a mess of things.

So she took him with her when she went to register him. Banora was small, yes, but there were enough children in Banora and from the other nearby little village, Tanava, to make a small school, one with only or two homerooms per grade. And enough children to make Angeal cling tightly to her skirts the whole day. Angeal tended to stay close anyway, and was shy around strangers. She worried, a little, at it--she and Angeal had kept to themselves in Banora much of the time, since small towns were insular things and she wasn't from around there, and she'd shown up unmarried with a baby to boot, something a bit much for such a small village to take.

And Gillian had never been around children much until she had her own--the first time she'd had to change a diaper she'd been more than the slightest bit flummoxed--and half the time she'd worried she was doing something wrong. She had been a scientist; nothing in her life of dissecting and analysis had prepared her for having a child, or for the emotions that went along with it, and no one who could have told her--her mother had died when she was young enough that Gillian had only faint, faded flashes of the warmth of arms, of pale, serious eyes and reddish brown hair, and of the faint scent of copper that made some part of her mind recoil whenever it came to her; her father had been a gentle man, but still as much a scientist as she and far more comfortable with books than with people, and even if she'd thought for a second he might have possibly understood, he'd been twenty years older than Gillian's mother and had passed not long after she'd begun work on Project G and so hadn't been around to ask.

She wondered, sometimes, if it hadn't been the death of her father--the last of her family--that perhaps had added to the strange rush of feelings, so irrational and completely unlike her, when it came to Angeal. It had started the first time she had felt him moving, felt him kicking and realized she was truly carrying a child, a baby, her baby, and there had been no way, not after she'd seen him for the first time and the insane rush of feelings and panic that she'd felt when they took her baby away after she delivered him, that she could have prepared herself for it. She'd known, rationally, that there were just going to clean him and make sure he was healthy and do some other tests, but she hadn't been able to keep the insane panic at bay, or control herself when they took her baby.

She knew intellectually that it was normal; had read that women had an irrational reaction right after birth, but nothing had prepared her for the reality, and nothing had prepared her for deciding, in that split second when the doors shut behind them as they took her baby away, that ShinRa couldn't have him. And it hadn't been easy, and if it hadn't been for the fact that Hojo's experiment had proved to have better results than her own, she never would have been able to leave with him. As it was, they had only allowed her to leave on the condition that she moved to Banora, so she could be there to monitor Hollander's first attempt. Not that she really had; she and the Rhapsodoses moved in different circles--but they knew who she was and why she was there, and in his early infancy with them she had on more than one occasion gone to check on him, but those had dropped off as he and Angeal grew and she grew busy herself. They spoke by phone for updates, which she sent to ShinRa, and she trusted that if there was a problem, they would contact her.

So she really wasn't too familiar with children, and she was almost taken aback at seeing that Angeal seemed smaller than the other boys running around the playground wildly. And he showed no inclination to go play himself; he watched them all wide-eyed and clutched at her skirts as if he had no idea what to make of them.

It was, she thought, probably a good thing Angeal was not as much a "success" as Hojo's Sephiroth; she just couldn't see him being groomed to be a perfect weapon.

They had just reached the door to the school, past the playground, when she heard Angeal give a little gasp and clutch tighter at her skirts. "Angeal?" she asked, wondering what had happened.

Angeal was staring over at the playground with his mouth hanging open just slightly, his eyes wide. "Angeal?"

She wondered just what he was staring at and followed his line of sight, and her eyes went a little wide as she realized what had caught his attention--another little boy, slim and fast-moving and too pretty by half, with red hair that stood out immediately from the children around him.

Genesis Rhapsodos.

She'd always known this day was coming; in a town as small as Banora and as school as small as Banora and Tanava's, they were bound to meet, and had always wondered what would happen--would they somehow be drawn to each other, knowing they were different from everyone around, or would they treat each other as just another person? She'd always wondered, and now, seeing how Angeal was staring at Genesis and Genesis was staring back, she knew.

Angeal looked up at her with wide eyes, and she smiled. "You should go say hello," she said gently. The two boys had been kept away from each other, and she'd always wondered how good of an idea that was. And Angeal was a shy little thing to boot, today showing her almost painfully just how much he was; he had always preferred to stay close to her instead of going out and playing in the fields like she'd always seen other little boys doing. He was a good boy, quiet and serious--sometimes too serious, she sometimes thought--and always trying to help. He would push himself, trying--just a few days ago he'd tried to carry a bag far too heavy for him and dropped it; he'd been upset at dropping it, and when she said he should have told her it was heavy, he'd gotten that serious look on his face that was too old for him and said "but if I didn't carry it, Mama'd have to, and it was heavy!" through his sniffles, and she'd hugged him very tightly.

There were days were Gillian was very, very glad that ShinRa had lost interest in her son as soon as Hojo's S-project proved itself 'superior.'

Angeal bit his lip and didn't say anything, just clutched a little more at her skirts. He looked torn, and she was about to encourage him again when he clutched even tighter at her skirts, and she looked over to see Genesis heading straight towards them.

He stopped right in front of them and stared straight at Angeal, completely ignoring Gillian, to the point where she felt slightly insulted and self-conscious.

"I'm Genesis. What's your name?" the little boy said, and the way he had his head tilted up was so much like his adoptive father's that Gillian had to bite back a smile at it.

"...Angeal," Angeal said softly, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

Genesis tilted his head and frowned a little. "Your name is weird," Genesis said. "Why's your name weird?"

Angeal looked at his feet and didn't say anything at first, fisting his mother's skirts. Gillian felt the urge to jump in and say something, but she waited a little, just to see what her son would do. It was true; his name wasn't anything like the people around here; she was Visgradian, after all, and his name reflected that. The only reason Angeal even understood the dialect around Banora that Genesis was using was that the old woman who would watch him when Gillian went out spoke it to him and he had picked it up from her; by now Gillian understood and could use it, but she'd always spoken to Angeal in Standard.

Angeal finally answered Genesis. "Dunno."

Genesis grinned suddenly. "It's weird but I like it."

Angeal looked up, surprised. "I...I like my name, too," he said, almost shyly. "Even if it's kinda weird."

"Race you to the tree at the very end of the row!" Genesis said suddenly, pointing.

Angeal looked at Gillian once. She nodded, and he gave her a huge smile before he let go of her skirts and stepped out from behind her, and they took off as fast as they could run without another word between them.

She watched him running off, leaving her behind, and she felt a pang she had only felt that day he was born, when that door had closed behind the doctors as they took her son away.

The first day of school was oddly enough easier than going to register him. She supposed it was because she'd had time to mentally prepare herself for this being hard...and some part of her couldn't deny that Angeal's worried enthusiasm was infectious. The boy fretted over things, but she suspected it was a lot less than it would have been had he not met Genesis. The whole day after they had met, all Angeal could talk about was the games he had played with Genesis, and Gillian had a hard time keeping a smile off of her face to see him so animate about something. He was worried about school, but he was mainly excited to be see Genesis again.

She had walked hand in hand with him down to the school, but as soon as they got the the school grounds, he saw Genesis following one of the Rhapsodos servants, and his face had lit up.

"Genesis!" he yelled, and waved, all but squirming with energy, and Gillian couldn't help but laugh. He didn't notice, all of his attention on Genesis, who had looked over, saw him, and grinned a bright smile before running over, completely ignoring the servant's, "Wait, Master Genes--!"

Angeal's face lit up even more, and he grabbed Genesis's hand with his free one. Genesis's eyes got wide for a moment, then gave Angeal another grin.

"Master Genesis!" the servant finally gasped, having run over to them.

"You can go home," he said, not even looking at her. "I'm going with them. Bye."

The woman's jaw dropped and she blinked, then shook her head. "But, I have to--"

Gillian smiled. "Don't worry, I'll see them in."

The woman sighed. "Thanks," she said, and shook her head before giving Gillian the paper with Genesis's home room, and turning around and heading back.

Gillian glanced at it as they walked, and let out a sigh of relief.

Genesis and Angeal were in the same homeroom, and that got rid of one stupid little worry--she knew he'd have a friend.

The first class after lunchtime of the first day of school, the first grade homeroom teacher looked out at all of his students and gave them a bright smile, hoping the kids would take his overexcited appearance and run with it.

"Guess what we're doing now? We're all going to learn to read!" Mr. Athanasiadis said, smiling and looking like it was a big, amazing thing.

Most of the kids got wide-eyed and looked a bit excited because of how he phrased it, but one student, Genesis--the little boy who had stood out from the first, so much so that Mr. Athanasiadis already knew his name and who had already managed to become the kids all the others looked to by the time the first class ended--blinked. "But I know how to read!" he said, sounding surprised, like he thought everyone can.

"Me, too," the little little boy sitting next to Genesis, "Angeal" according to his nametag, and there was no way that name was Mideelian, said softly, then looking around wide-eyed at how the other kids were staring at them.

Mr. Athanasiadis' own eyes widened slightly. "You two already know how to read?"

Genesis nodded, one eyebrow going up and looked slightly perplexed, like the question was insane. "I learned to read when I was three. I like reading!" he said proudly.

"And you can read, too?" Mr. Athanasiadis, turning to Angeal. Angeal nodded, biting the corner of his lip.

"Mama taught me," he said shyly.

"Can you read Standard?" he asked, and when both children gave him blank looks, he asked again, this time switching languages, into Standard.

And rather quickly, as if his name hadn't been a big enough clue, the fact that Angeal Hewely was Not From Around Here became obvious, because he smiled shyly, and answered back in perfect, Midgar-accented Standard.

"Yes. Like I said, Mama taught me. But I don't know how to read, um, the what you were saying before, they way you were talking."

"In Mideelian," Mr. Athanasiadis said. "They're different languages. Languages are large groups of words," he said, sticking to Standard while all the other children stared at them blankly. Everyone except Genesis; Athanasiadis remembered suddenly that Genesis was the mayor's child; the boy had probably been given private lessons in Standard, then. "We're speaking Standard now, but before we were speaking Mideelian."

"Oh, so that's what they're called," Angeal said.

Athanasiadis smiled faintly. "What about you, Genesis?"

Genesis nodded, still with a faint 'are you stupid?' look on his face. "Yes, I know Standard," he said, no hesitation at all in the speed of his answer. "I started learning when I was really little."

When he was "little." Which meant he'd probably had Standard lessons most of his life, and that lead Mr. Athanasiadis to the thought of never mind the reading classes, what on the Ferryman's Way was he going to do during Standard classes with students who already spoke Standard?

Most children didn't even begin to learn Standard until they started school, after all, and even children's shows aimed for young children tended to be in Mideelian. First grade was taught in Mideelian with Standard lessons every day, then math was switched over to Standard in second grade, and third grade and up were only taught in Standard. Reading was done first in Mideelian, and they were taught to read and write Standard starting second grade, once the kids had the fundamentals of reading and writing down. So for Angeal, at least, that punted one problem slightly down the road, since even if he could read Standard, he couldn't read Mideelian, so he could stay in class with everyone else for that. But as for Genesis...

Mr. Athanasiadis bit back a sigh, put Genesis as class monitor, and left quickly. He came back with a stack of readers and, through cajoling and outright bribery, another teacher who had been on her free period to watch the class, then pulled Angeal and Genesis into the back of the room and sat them down. It took most of the hour, but Genesis and Angeal went through the stacks of books, reading aloud while the teacher blinked at them. The two of them were fluent in Standard; Angeal was actually better with Standard then he was with Mideelian--which made him suspect that was why the boy seemed so shy; everyone around him was speaking a language he wasn't quite as good at--and the teacher had no idea whatsoever what to do with them. Angeal would be able to stay with the class for learning to read and write Mideelian, but that would be a step backwards for him, since aside from the holdover into dates in Standard, Mideelian as a written language was only for children nowadays, and everyone used Standard. Genesis, though, he had no idea. The boy could read Mideelian as well as Standard, and he had the feeling Standard lessons aimed at kids who maybe could count in Standard and that was all, would bore him and Angeal stupid...and he had been teaching long enough to recognize that there were some children who would destroy the classroom if they were bored. Angeal looked like he would studiously pay attention anyway or at worst tune out and stare into space, but Genesis looked like the sort that you never, ever wanted bored, not unless you wanted your class to turn into a daily nightmare and to be driven to drink.

A sudden, brilliant idea hit him. There was no way he could move Genesis to the upper classes for reading, but he could easily distract him. He'd charge Genesis with "helping" Angeal with Mideelian, which would keep him out of Mr. Athanasiadis' hair, and quite possibly punt the problem of what to do with their reading classes to next semester, if not hopefully next year, and if nothing else keep it so when the problem did pop up of them already reading Standard came up, they could be at the same level. And as for Standard lessons...he'd just make both of them his "helpers" and hope for the best.

Otherwise, it was going to be a long year.

The first week of school was an excited blur for Angeal. There were a lot of kids, more than he was used to and more noise, but it was OK. He and Genesis had sat next to each other, and he liked Genesis--he liked Genesis an awful, awful lot, and was glad they could be friends. He thought Genesis was kind of amazing, even if he didn't know why, other than Genesis was so different from him. Genesis was smart and liked helping him to learn to read Mideelian, kinda like his mama had helped him with reading Standard, and the two of them got to help everyone in their Standard lessons, which was fun and made him feel special and he liked explaining things and helping, that it was only him and Genesis who got to help like that. Angeal wasn't anything like Genesis; Genesis was a bundle of energy, and it stood out as much as his bright hair did.

And Genesis was pretty. He was awfully, awfully, pretty. Angeal didn't think boys were supposed to be pretty but Genesis was, and it was Genesis so it was OK. The big girls had cooed all over Genesis the first day, petting his hair and saying he was 'so cute!', and Genesis had just grinned at them and milked it for attention. It seemed like everybody liked Genesis.

Except Aeolus.

Aeolus was one of the bigger boys and during lunch time he and his friends would come out and bother the first and second graders, usually the girls. Angeal didn't like Aeolus very much, but he and Gen spent most of their free time after they ate running around and playing, so they hadn't have to deal with Aeolus much, except for that one time, before they learned to avoid him, that Aeolus came up from behind to tried to push Angeal off. That had ended with Genesis biting Aeolus, and then the bell rang and they ran inside and into their classroom before Aeolus could catch them.

The kids in second grade said they were in for it, so they stayed off the swings and stuck to climbing and the other things and running if they saw Aeolus coming; with as agile as Genesis was and as quick as Angeal was (he'd heard one teacher watching them say Genesis must have been born equipped with Float and Angeal with Hermes' Boots), none of the other kids could keep up with them when they were tearing around the playground equipment, even the big kids, and Angeal liked that just fine, that it was just the two of them.

It was during lunch break the first week of the second month of school that their luck avoiding Aeolus ran out. They had spent most of the lunch period running, and were sitting down under a tree with some of the other kids from their class, Clearchus and the twins Korax and Tisias, when Aeolus came over.

Or rather, when he beelined straight over to Genesis and, with a smug smile, dropped a worm on Genesis' face.

Genesis was on his feet almost instantly, with Angeal up only a split second later, his hands balling into fists. "Why did you put a worm on me?" Genesis said angrily, forgetting that they were supposed to run if they saw Aeolus. Genesis was mad and Angeal knew there was no way Genesis was going to run away when he was mad. Even back when Genesis had bitten Aeolus, the only reason he'd run was because the bell had rung and Angeal and grabbed his arm and took off.

Aeolus plucked the worm up from the ground where it had fallen and waved it in Genesis's face. Genesis took a disgusted step back and Aeolus started laughing. "You look like a girl," Aeolus said tauntingly. "I wanna see if you act like one, too," he said, and waved the worm in Genesis's face again.

Genesis narrowed his eyes, and immediately grabbed the worm out of Aeolus' hand, popped it into his mouth, and started chewing exaggeratedly.

Angeal's jaw fell open--the worm had been covered in dirt and only the gods knew what else, and was all wriggly, and Genesis had just put it in his mouth and started chewing open-mouthed. And now looked proud of himself, his hands on his hips and chin tilted up. And grinning. With worm guts and bits stuck in his teeth. Like there was nothing wrong with that and he'd done a good thing.

Genesis looked over at Angeal and grinned more.

Occasionally Angeal's mother and other grown-ups would do something Angeal hadn't really understood why until now. Now he understood, because he found himself doing it: Angeal buried his face in one hand and groaned.

"Genesis!"

"...What?" Genesis said, his mouth still full of dirt and half-chewed worm, and Angeal's jaw dropped. Genesis turned back to Aeolus and opened his mouth wide, making a "bleeeee~" face and showing Aeolus the chewed-up worm.

"Ewww, you're gross!" Aeolus said, but he was laughing, and then he walked off.

Genesis turned around, swallowed exaggeratedly, and grinned.

Angeal just stood there for a minute, then opened his mouth and blinked. Then started lecturing Genesis like his mama would sometimes, when he did something wrong, telling Genesis that was gross and not to do that again because it had been in the dirt and was dirty and that was gross.

Genesis' eyes glazed over in boredom about halfway through and he said, "Hey, we can go on the swings now!" and took off at a run for the swings

Angeal's shoulders slumped and he sighed, then groaned and buried his face in his hand again, shook his head and then gave up, and headed after Gen.

"Betcha I can go higher!" Genesis yelled.

"Betcha can't," Angeal said back, and then it was a contest, and they were off, both of them pumping their legs as fast and hard as they could, straining to touch the sky higher.

The school year passed quickly, and when the summer vacation signaling the end of the school year in rural Banora and Tanava, where even children had to be free to help with the summer apple harvest, began, Gillian barely even saw her son; Genesis would show up and off the two of them would go. Angeal would help her out, as much as he could, since she was busy as everyone else this time of year, but if Genesis showed up, she all but swatted him out the door. The two of them spent their first summer vacation from school outside in the fields and orchards doing whatever it was two six-almost-seven-year-olds could come up with, and more than once Angeal had come home with bugs, frogs, snakes, and other things in his pockets, and she always sat down with him and told him the scientific names and whatever she knew about them. Genesis was an avid listener if he was there, and she soon got used to Genesis coming by whenever the urge hit him, and considered herself lucky if he knocked before coming in the house, and there were times she felt a pang of regret, that she hadn't taken Genesis when she decided to leave like Hollander had wanted: she could only imagine how much more outgoing Angeal would have been from the start if he'd always had Genesis to run after.

Summer ended with the two of them tanned as brown as they would go, and when the school year started, Angeal shyly said she didn't have to walk with him the first day, since he and Genesis would go on their own.

Gillian smiled and said OK, and figured as long as they were together, they would both be fine.