Chapter Text
Sephiroth hadn't had the time to strangle Zack, but the moment he had his children safe in his arms, he vowed to make good on that promise.
The entire time he'd been out on the mission, he'd done nothing but worry over his charges, mind tortuously playing out every worst-case scenario. They'd spilled out of his mouth and Angeal had weathered his paranoia stoically.
But when they'd returned, it was worse than anything he could have imagined, because even when he'd thought the worst, he'd at least known.
Instead, they were just—out there, lost. Maybe they were in Turk hands, even now...
Zack's only saving grace had been his puzzling story. Teleporting, inhumanely fast babies wasn't a completely unbelievable excuse, as they were science experiments, and Zack couldn't be wholly to blame since he hadn't had all of the relevant facts—but Sephiroth wasn't feeling charitable towards Zack at this very moment.
He left the Shin-Ra building entirely, knowing that if they were still that close he would feel them, and closed his eyes, focusing on the connection near the base of his skull, the one that alerted him to their existence just a month ago when he'd found them in the lab.
Where are you? Tell me.
A sleepy protest met him, as well as a confusing jumble of thoughts and images.
I don't understand. What do you see around you?
The images were no less confusing, but at least clearer. It chilled Sephiroth to the core to think of them below plate, but he had no time to panic.
I'm coming. Pleasure/happiness met him at the promise, and then it too slipped beneath the veil of unconsciousness.
It took nearly an hour of navigating before Sephiroth found the rusted old playground, and when he rounded the slide to approach the bench, he came to a dead stop.
There were his children, alright, clearly exhausted but altogether fine. And they were clinging to a stranger.
The man was young, probably around Zack's age, and it was there the similarities stopped.
He had bright blonde hair, a riot of color on an otherwise sedate, somber face. Sun-tanned skin, delicate features, and even in repose, there was a quiet solemnity to him that practically demanded stillness, peace. He glanced up and crystal clear, sky blue eyes met Sephiroth's.
The fact that he was able to hold his children without alerting everyone within a mile radius...clearly, he had to be some sort of angel, or maybe magic...
"Uh, General? Sir?"
Sephiroth snapped out of his staring, surprised by the formal address. That was when he noticed the trooper uniform. Corporal, too, so at least a child wasn't watching his own children.
"Yes, I—You've found my sons," he states needlessly. "Thank you."
Sephiroth swept closer, eyes fervently taking in the babies, trying to spot the slightest cut, a bruise, a bit of dirt—to no avail, "I can see you've looked after them well."
"Oh, it was no problem," the man shifted uneasily; Sephiroth guessed it was the praise that discomforted him, going by the bashful breaking of eye contact and the stilted, aborted shrug, "They just kinda came up to me and didn't let go, actually..."
Sephiroth stared.
"Please help me," he blurted.
The trooper looked up at him, confused. "Huh?"
"What I mean—" Sephiroth forced himself to get a grip. Frantic searching for missing children did little to lend a good impression. "As you can imagine, my busy schedule makes it difficult to devote the necessary time to my children as I should. And," he added, voice as dry as the desert, "Even when I leave them with a babysitter, it seems I can't expect them to stay put."
The trooper nodded, clearly refraining from commenting even though he so obviously wanted to.
"I would like you to work for me," Sephiroth said quickly, like ripping off a bandage. He came closer and knelt down. He could feel his own expression relaxing without his conscious approval, and he stroked one precious, silver head. "I've never seen them like this with someone else before. There will be a background check of course, but..." Sephiroth trailed off, gesturing to the sight of the trooper, cradling the children so easily, without so much as a peep of protest, "I think the results speak for themselves. I would pay you, of course," he tacked on belatedly. "A lot."
The trooper looked bewildered. "I—Wow. Uh." He looked down, shaking his head. "Sorry, this is...kinda sudden. I'd just been thinking of leaving Midgar before they showed up."
Alarm made Sephiroth's heart jump to his throat.
"A lot," he repeated, already feeling the possibility of a full night's rest slipping through his fingers. "I would pay you a lot."
The trooper looked up at him, surprised, but a moment later a small smile bloomed on his face, amused and wry. Sephiroth didn't even mind that it was at his expense.
"...Okay. Sure. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try it out..."
Sephiroth felt like he might cry with relief. "Thank you," he sighed. He met the trooper's eyes once more. "I suppose if I'm hiring you, it would be a good start to ask you your name?"
"Oh! It's—Cloud. Cloud Strife. Nice to, uh, meet you, sir."
"Cloud," Sephiroth gave him a rather frank look. "You found my children, kept them safe, and are apparently trustworthy enough that they let down their guard enough not only to not cry around you, but to sleep in your arms; please, call me Sephiroth."
Cloud's smile was smaller this time, but somehow more pleased. He bobbed his head in agreement, breaking eye contact with a shyness that was surprisingly endearing.
"Then...it's nice to meet you...Sephiroth," he said in a whisper, clearly embarrassed by the familiarity.
Sephiroth smiled in return; already, he was picturing his peace of mind come the next mission, or even having an entire ten minutes alone in the bathroom.
He could sleep.
"Believe me, the pleasure is all mine."