Chapter Text
He didn’t know how it happened.
He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d let his guard down when he shouldn’t have, he wasn’t sure if he’d believed himself safe once he’d taken care of the problem, he wasn’t even sure if it was because he simply hadn’t been paying attention.
Things like this rarely, if ever happened to him of all people, and maybe he had grown complacent, too sure of himself. Genesis was always telling him his power would fail him one day, not for his lack of skill or ability, no, but for his pride and his arrogance.
“It’s a long way to fall from the top.” He had warned.
He knew his body, he knew his limits and he knew himself, so he knew this shouldn’t have happened. This was a fluke, a one off, but it didn’t change the severity of how badly he’d miscalculated. He’d finished off the creature with small effort, an escaped spawn of Hojo’s insanity. It had gotten around everyone else sent to eliminate it, but he’d tracked it down and cornered it. It hadn’t been easy, but it hadn’t been difficult either, and as the mutated beast had evaporated into Lifestream energy, he had dismissed Masamune and made to call in the success of his mission.
He’d seen the second one too little, too late.
Pain had ripped through him when the beast struck, and he’d gasped wetly as he’d been sent tumbling to the ground. The blow had stunned him badly, his ears ringing and vision wavering alarmingly. His left shoulder was dislocated, the odd combination of pain and numbness a give away, it was a problem, because he wielded his blade with his left hand. He could swap, he’d trained himself to be ambidextrous, but his swings would suffer, his right arm capable, but not refined.
“It’s a long way to fall from the top.”
He’d forced himself to his feet, staggering drunkenly, wondering why his legs were quaking under his weight. There was something wet on his front, making the leather of his harness slide uncomfortably on his aching stomach, but he dismissed it. It had rained several hours ago, and the Slums were covered in puddles from where the water had leaked from above plate.
The beast, smaller then the first had ambushed him, lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike. That could only mean that it had some form of intelligence, a by product of Hojo’s tinkering most likely.
His left arm had throbbed dully where it hung limp at his side, and if he’d had the time, he might have popped it back into place himself, but as soon as he’d locked eyes with the beast, it had pounced again.
The wetness on his front seemed to seep down and into the fabric of his pants, making them cling annoyingly, but he ignored it. Summoning Masamune into his right hand, he’d struck, missing as his legs wobbled and the world tilted sickeningly. Something was wrong with him.
“It’s a long way to fall from the top.”
Adrenaline and mako surging in his veins, he’d struck out again, and the second attempt was met with success. The beast collapsed and began to evaporate just as its counterpart had minutes before, and he allowed himself to take stock.
He staggered sideways, good shoulder connecting with a rusted streetlamp, jarring him, but stopping his uncontrolled motion. His breathing was uneven, he hadn’t even noticed. He could feel his hands trembling, and his heart beating against his ribs, each beat timed almost perfectly with the throbbing of his head. The wetness on his front had soaked into his pants, and he finally looked down to see how much filth he was covered in. It took a moment for his sluggish mind to make sense of what he was looking at.
It wasn’t water or filth.
“It’s a long way to fall from the top, and when, not if, you fall, know that it was your own hand that pushed you.”
Red stained his alabaster chest in a macabre work of art, his harness hanging on by a thread, torn nearly in two as the pale skin it should have protected wept thick tears of blood. From his right hip bone to the left side of his lowest rib, the only thing keeping his insides where they should be was the last strap holding his harness in place.
He’d been as good as disemboweled, and he hadn’t even noticed.
The light pole provided him stability his body didn’t have, but his wound almost seemed to bleed more now that he had noticed it, and his skin started to tingle unpleasantly. A part of his mind whispered that he was going into shock, that the only thing that had kept him upright, the adrenaline, was leaving his system.
His left arm was still useless, but Sephiroth had enough sense left in him to reach into his pocket with a wildly trembling hand. If he could have, he would have applied pressure with his other hand, but he was limited to just the one arm. He drew out his PHS, fumbling and almost dropping it twice with numb fingers. This wasn’t something he could walk away from without help. His body was in too bad a shape to move. He was also a little afraid that if he did try to walk, his stomach would open up completely.
He trembled uncontrollably, breath a stuttering mess, he could barely breath. Spots were dancing in his vision, and the world felt like it was trying to slide out from under him, but he pushed himself harder into the steel pole, trying to ground himself.
He managed to hit speed dial on his PHS without dropping it.
“Well it’s about time you rang! I’ve been waiting on you for an hour now!” The cheerful voice of Zackary Fair was almost a heavenly choir right then. He opened his mouth, but it wasn’t words that came out. He choked, blood spilling over his pale lips. “Seph, you ok buddy?” No, no he really fucking wasn’t.
“H-he-” He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t ask for help, trying to move his jaw was like trying to swim through quicksand.
“Sephiroth?” Zack sounded serious now, and Sephiroth would have commended him, but his legs were sliding out from under him, his shoulder slipping from the pole. He heard himself hit the ground before he felt it, and he gasped in agony. “Sephiroth!?” He’d dropped his PHS, fingers twitching uselessly on the ground. The glowing screen was several feet away. The concrete under his cheek was cold, but there was a pool of warmth spreading between him and it. “Hey, answer me damn it! Where are you!?” The other Soldier sounded uncharacteristically frantic. “Shit, Angeal!” It sounded like there were several voices talking through the speaker at once, but Sephiroth couldn’t tell, everything was moving oddly, fading in and out around the edges.
His skin was still prickling, like a hive of bees had burrowed beneath his skin, but he couldn’t muster the strength to move. He knew he needed to, knew he needed to give his location to the panicked voices echoing oddly from his PHS, but he couldn’t, it was hard enough just to keep breathing.
He didn’t know how long he laid there for, the concept of time meant nothing to him, slipping in and out of consciousness as he was, but he thought it mightn’t have been more then five minutes. It could have been five hours, but he couldn’t know for sure. The call still hadn’t disconnected, the screen still shockingly bright in the gloom of the Slums.
No one would venture out and find him, it was late, and this side of town was mainly full of empty and abandoned buildings anyway.
A distant rumbling, almost like thunder filtered into his thready consciousness, and he forced the darkness back just slightly by sheer will alone, just enough for him to remain aware for a little bit longer. His heart beat sluggishly in his breast, until soon enough the sound was drowned out by the rumbling, growing louder.
Not louder, no. Closer.
The screech that followed could have been abused tires, but it also could have been a monster. Right then he really couldn’t have cared less. He dropped out of it for what could only have been a few seconds, but when he could flick his eyes partially open again, he saw light.
That could have been a bad thing, but he couldn’t remember why.
“Oh shit, Sephiroth!” Someone shouted in panic, it might have been Genesis, hell it could have been Hojo for all he could tell, his mind was struggling to pull free of the webs that had began to smother it.
“Zack, bring the fucking car around!” If he could have, Sephiroth might have blanched, because he was quite certain he’d never heard Angeal swear before. Rapid boot steps approached him, but he couldn’t move to see who it was.
Hands touched him, almost feather light, hesitating in several places before a firmer pair grasped him gently and rolled him over. Someone hissed, and another choked in disbelief, but his eyes drifted shut without his consent.
“-lost too much blood, he-”
“-get here-time-”
“Don’t-him close-”
“-awake, Seph-”
Something collided with the side of his face, and the sting barely registered, but it jolted him just enough for him to peel his eyes open again only to be met with a vague and moving red blob. The ground under his head wasn’t quite so hard anymore, in fact it was almost soft.
“-with me-hey-”
The impact from before repeated, jarring him, and he blinked sluggishly as the red blob slowly cleared, and the upside down and pale face of Genesis Rhapsodos swam into view. He was saying something, looking uncharacteristically frantic. Sephiroth hadn’t even thought the man capable of such an expression.
“-awake-me?-You have to-damn-iroth, you have to stay awake!” He winced as the words pierced his aching ears, so loud compared to the ringing silence of before. His mouth tasted like copper, and he could feel the sticky remains of half dried blood on his lips and chin.
“-shock-happened?-shit!-Sephi-keep-thing damn it! Keep bre-”
He was finding it hard to breathe, and there was something pressing hard against his stomach, the ache pounding through his body like a living thing. He knew, in theory that he needed to stay awake, but he couldn’t, the darkness was dragging him back under, and Genesis slapped him again, but it didn’t work this time. Sephiroth apologized quietly in his head, he’d tried.
“losing him-geal!”