Some Would Call It Atonement, I Just Call It Crazy (1)

[crankyoldman]

Fandom: FF7:DoC (AU)
Authors: drakonlily, venefica_aura
Characters/Pairings: Tseng, Sephiroth, Vincent
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "The manner in which Tseng came to acquire the one-time great general was as inconsequential as picking up a piece of litter on the ground." Tseng, Vincent, and the handling of things left undone.

Notes: So drakonlily and I started writing this because we had some silly conversations and decided it was about time we made sense of a few things. Plus, we overall dislike most redemption stories that we see around, so we figured we'd do it our way--with black humor and our brand of logic. Next chapter will be the fun one, because it's the other POV--Cid. Because Cid is awesome. The alternate working title of this was "Damn Wutes" if that gives you any indication of the direction this is going. XD Also, this is very very very loosely based on Dirge canon--we're going to steal a few of the characters and probably Computerized!Hojo, but if you were expecting delving into the Tragic Love Story, it's not here. I like Lu too much to turn her into a sobbing crystaline mess.



The manner in which Tseng came to acquire the one-time great general was as inconsequential as picking up a piece of litter on the ground. In fact, Tseng had developed a habit of picking up trash, where he saw it, almost to the point of compulsion.

But the fact of the matter remained that Sephiroth was in his apartment, kept in the spare room by liberal amounts of electric fencing. The latter fact might have been overkill--but he had learned not to take chances with normal SOLDIER types, let alone one that had lost their marbles and listened to the voices in their heads. Of course, that had been what the reports had said. One could never be sure exactly what made a person flip out like that--in his time as a Turk he'd seen people lose it over something as simple as a hamster.

"You put electric fence up? Paranoid Wute, I'm no danger."

It was several years and a hairstyle ago that they had been on the same side. His lot seemed to think of him as divinity, and considering the attitude of the average SOLDIER, Tseng wasn't surprised that someone like Sephiroth had been elevated like that. Rumor had it they had no one to spar with him, so they had to simulate so he could practice.

Of course, Tseng had known plenty of monks that never actually sparred with anyone and could still get the better of him when he was much younger.

"If you are going to start with the racial epithets, you're most definitely not getting let out."

It also made a certain amount of sense that he of all people would have the washed up humanity of a false god taking up his spare room. And if his instinct was right, the damage would be more psychological than physical--and not to him. Maybe he was a little curious to see which Sephiroth would come out of this.

Maybe he desperately needed something to do.

---

Developmentally, Sephiroth was really a teenager. Tseng came to this conclusion nearly a week after he'd regained consciousness.

"Stop banging on that wall." Tseng had taken up whittling since the Turks had been officially disbanded. He was... well, he still wasn't very good.

"I'll bang as much as I want to!" Sephiroth's voice without the J-cells was distinctly more nasal, and well, grating. If Reno were still around Edge, he'd certainly have won the 'babydaddy pool' for Sephiroth, even if he'd lost the one for Aeris. This left the former Turks 0-2 versus the Science Department in the illegitimate child contest. At least for the big ones.

"It's really counterproductive."

"Don't you realize how WRONG everything is?"

"Which part? The part where I managed a holding cell that you can't get out of or the part where you're human. Because neither of those things seem particularly wrong to me."

Petulant silence. Yes, he definitely had all the signs of late adolescence. From the few glimpses he'd gotten into the room when he slid food in, Sephiroth's physique was even diminished. He could almost feel a little for him, if he weren't being such a shit.

"You'll go outside tomorrow. I need to have someone look at you anyway."

---

Tseng didn't want to admit how nice it was to be meeting someone somewhere vaguely public, with a sort of mission ready intent. The real tragedy of Geostigma wasn't that all these people and children had caught it, but that all who recovered from it seemed to lose a bit of their edge. That Rufus Shinra would up and decide to us his PR powers for Reeve's little rehabilitation project. We need shovels and strong backs, not guns and biting wit these days.

He figured he wouldn't be the only one that had a hard time adjusting, but everyone--even Veld--had proven him wrong about that. That was part of the reason he'd called Vincent instead of the former Chief.

The former scientist turned Turk turned terrorist had supposedly been living in the past. He'd asked about an old lover that had left him a long time ago. Maybe it was the fact that Vincent had seemed stuck in what had been a less than renowned personal life that made Tseng contact him. Vincent Valentine was rumored to have not moved on.

However when Vincent walked into the small cafe, he didn't look as though he was stuck in the past. A change of clothing had been needed and though Vincent didn't cut his hair, it was tied back. He moved like a man his age should, though outwardly he looked like a twenty something from a job interview.

He nodded at Tseng before sitting down, Tseng could see the gunbelt strap at Vincent's shoulder. Perhaps some things did die hard. "You called?"

Tseng decided he had better just launch into it. "I have someone I need you to look at. From what your old file said, you had a Doctorate in Internal Medicine, so I figured you might be able to help."

If Vincent was shocked at this information, his face didn't show it. "Would you mind if I got a cup of coffee first?"

"By all means." Now he was a little curious as to exactly what the bogey man had been up to. Of course, this only furthered his feeling of being out of place. A relic, an old model replaced by optimism and family values.

"Thanks." He ordered a cup of something strong that wafted like the mornings in the Turk offices after a bender. Vincent got the coffee in a to-go mug and waited for Tseng to lead the way outside. His reputations hadn't been as mottled as his love life. Vincent's GPA was above average in every facet of his education save linguistics, he set many Turk records and somewhere sayings like "pull a Valentine" were common even after he'd died.

Vincent just couldn't have a personal life.

"So what exactly do you have for me?" He almost smiled at his coffee. Apparently he'd missed it.

"I think you'll have to see for yourself to believe me." He had taken a risk bringing Sephiroth outside, but then, when he rounded the corner and the new playground was in sight, he could see the hooded figure on the same swing he'd left him.

Vincent halted several feet from the young man. He took a deep breath through the nose with his head tilted slightly up. After exhaling, he arched a black eyebrow. "You're kidding me..."

"Come on over here and let the good doctor have a look at you." He hesitated at calling him 'Sephiroth' in public, as he hadn't a suitable pseudonym for him yet. The hood had been at Sephiroth's insistence--maybe all the time spent in his spare room had given him time to think about what people's reactions would be if he were to go out in public.

Plus, he refused to cut his hair.

Tseng could almost swear he flinched a little as he got up and walked over, keeping the hood low over his eyes.

"Do you have somewhere more private than this?" Vincent asked nonchalantly. He took another long drink from his coffee cup. "Perhaps your hotel or apartment?"

"My apartment is close, will you have to do anything?"

To that, Vincent shrugged. "How are you feeling, lately?" he asked Sephiroth.

"Like strangling the Wute," he replied, with a slight hiss in his voice.


"As you can see, he's dripping with charm." Tseng commented while he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

"Relax your tone." Vincent warned, though he didn't say to whom he was speaking. "Let's go."

For a second, it looked like Sephiroth would bolt, probably cackling and burning as he went. But maybe he was starting to feel like an outdated model himself, so he followed.

Tseng nodded and started off to his apartment. Being a Turk meant that he had, at one point, owned a few different places. This was one of his more permanent addresses. It was one of his favorite places and thankfully untouched by any of the three times the world almost ended in past few years.

Vincent tossed the cup in a trashcan and began to relax as he walked behind the two of them. Tseng wasn't uncomfortable any longer. It was strange, like fighting dogs that had been left to fend for themselves. Though next to Vincent it was difficult for anyone to look intimidating. He opened his door and the multitude of locks spoke of a paranoia that Tseng had gotten from Veld. "Need anything, Valentine?"

"We'll see." Vincent waited until the door had closed and locked before addressing Sephiroth. "How much do you remember?"

"Which part? Trying to take over the world for Mother, or burning down things?"

Vincent sighed. "Well someone takes after his mother." Vincent pulled two chairs from the kitchen. "Can you please sit down?"

"If you probe me with anything..." But he sat down.

"I would not do so without asking, however, you do well to not threaten me, understood?"

Tseng frowned and picked a vase up off the table. He wasn't exactly meticulous, but he did have nice things and he could only imagine the damage that Vincent could do to his living room.

When prompted he opened his eyes wide. They were green now, that leafy kind that Aeris once had. Something about that was creepy.

"Please follow my finger, let me know if your eyes hurt or go out of focus please." Vincent's voice was soft and deep. Odd, for a scientist and a Turk for him to have anything resembling a bedside manner.

Tseng still wasn't going to trust them with his vase.

"Have you ever worn corrective lenses?" Vincent asked. "And turn your head, I'm going to check your pulse, by your cheekbone." He reached up and touched two fingers to Sephiroth's neck.

"No. Do I need them?" There was a tone to his voice that suggested the very idea of correctional lenses was ridiculous.

"It looks like it. You're eyes cross a bit as they focus. It's something both of your parents had issues with, so it's genetic." Vincent moved the chair and held a pen up. "Try to take this from me, don't hold back, I'm just looking for speed and coordination."

He rolled his eyes and went to snatch at it. And missed. "Once more."

After three tries to take the pen, a look akin to disgust washed over his face. "Alright, what are you doing. Clearly this is rigged."

"Let Tseng try." Vincent stood and handed the pen to Tseng. "I assure you, Sephiroth, there's no rigging."

Tseng held the pen himself and looked at Vincent.

"Just keep it from him." Vincent offered, getting himself situated across the kitchen.

The first two tries Sephiroth concentrated on it, with the scary kind of focus that hadn't shown up in the gangly shadow of what he'd once been. But the third time, he took a different tactic and just leapt from his chair, knocking Tseng to the ground and grabbing the pen from him.

"And his father..." Vincent sighed. "Alright, ever arm wrestle Seph?" He sat down. "Because right now, I'm surmising most of your power level isn't the same. Do you find yourself more tired than usual? You're looking gaunt."

Tseng remained on the floor. "I think he feels stronger than usual..."

"Oh hush, don't whine."

"...give me a smoke." Tseng snarled.

Sephiroth smirked a little at Tseng before addressing Vincent. "I've lost favor with Her, so it makes sense that I've lost a lot of Her gifts." He, of course, said that with as much sincerity as possible.

"What's actually happened, Sephiroth is that you're getting over a nasty virus."

"Wonderful deduction." He wasn't really watching or listening that well to Vincent, though, he seemed more interested in watching to see if Tseng moved.

"I can write you a script..."

Vincent frowned and patted at a pocket. "Get it at Shinra."

Sephiroth quirked a slightly mangled eyebrow. "Shinra still exists?" Then he leaned back against the kitchen counter, a parody of a smile on his face. "Well, Tseng, that explains it. Did you get fired?"

"They disbanded." Tseng spat out with more vigor than he had responded to racial slurs. He did manage to look rather dignified, even on his ass on the floor of his kitchen.

Vincent smirked, one corner of his mouth lifting. "Sephiroth, have you felt tired or slower than usual?"

"I wouldn't know, today's the first day I've been let out of the room. I suppose."

"Would you mind going for a jog real quick?" Vincent's tone was still soft and personable. "Just on the roof, no one will notice."

He flicked his hair, in what was supposed to be an intimidating manner, but came out a little prissy since he lacked the broad chest and muscles. "I suppose."

Tseng cleared his throat and got off the floor. "I'm going to make dinner."

Vincent seemed as though he was amused at something familiar. "Come along please, Seph."

Tseng snarled a bit to himself. He had no idea what Vincent was planning but he was certain the man could handle himself. Vincent was, after all, not human. He pulled out eggs and pancake mix and began to search for blueberries.

He had the pancakes all made and was about to go up to the roof to tell them that they would be getting cold when somewhat exhausted looking Sephiroth practically kicked the door on his way in and collapsed on the couch.

"What in the world is going on?" Tseng was happy he didn't have a spatula in his hand, it ... well, it wouldn't have looked professional.

"He needs to take vitamins. Particularly one a day, I'd actually try the seniors, along with an extra dose of B7, D, and a lot of protein. Eggs are a great idea." Vincent slid into the door like a panther, smooth strides and a thin chest that didn't show much action though sweat stained his brow.

Sephiroth muttered something that sounded like 'inhuman bastard', but that was just a guess.

"If I were you, Sephiroth, I'd dye my hair. Your mother was a brunette, it would look natural for you." He cleared his throat then. "Would you happen to have mouthwash?"

"...mouthwash?" Tseng asked. He motioned to his bathroom.

"Thank you." Vincent disappeared into the bathroom. Once the dark man was gone, Tseng focused on Sephiroth. "Are... you alright?"

"Just let me die already and stop pestering me." He buried his face in the arm of the couch, not unlike a teenager having a dramatic moment.

Tseng couldn't help but feel a little for that. Maybe... well, there were two of them that were having trouble moving on. "Come on, we'll get all these things Valentine suggested and you'll feel better."

Vincent returned from the bathroom. "If you need something call me."

"I will." Tseng offered a hand to Sephiroth. "Let's get your stuff." He couldn't help but feel a little bad. Both for himself and for Sephiroth.

"I'm going to do some bloodwork on myself, Strife and see who else Reeve has dug up."

"If you are thinking this is either some form of atonement for whatever it is you did as a Turk or some way to redeem what you may think of as a puppet, you are mistaken." It was whispered, so that Vincent wouldn't hear.

Vincent sighed and tossed his cigarettes on Tseng's table as if he felt the Wutain would need them. With that he walked out the door.

Tseng didn't know if Vincent had heard that or not. "Oh love of Leviathan... I'm helping you because I want to, deal with it. Come on and stop moping."

Maybe the simple common sense was shocking. "You will live to regret this."

"Tell me something I don't know." Tseng turned and picked the food off of the counter and handed a plate to Sephiroth."Do you want me to pick up the stuff and let you rest?"

"I can stay out here?"

Tseng nodded, his door needed a key to get out, it was his newest lock addition. "Make sure you eat." He opened the door and started out. Vincent's cigarettes tasted good and the wash of nicotine dampened his nerves. Dealing with Sephiroth was going to be difficult, he knew as much.

But he needed something to do. Maybe one of these days Tseng would admit that he was also lonely.