Lost Time

By: Angelique


"Are you sure you want to do this?" Vincent asked, tenderly brushing an errant strand of Cloud's sunlight-blond hair out of his brilliant azure eyes. "If you wish to turn back, I'll understand."

"You've already asked me that three times," Cloud laughed. "What do you want me to do? Throw you down on the bed and rip off your clothes?"

Vincent chuckled. "Maybe later," he joked, telling himself he was being irrational. He started to kiss Cloud just as he had done many times before over the last month or so, but this time, their lips never met. Vincent turned away and said, "I can't do this," more to himself than his young would-be lover.He sat down on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. He didn't doubt his love for Cloud; that was beyond question. But he did doubt himself and wondered if on this particular night, his love was only physical. He remembered another young man -- also innocent and beautiful -- whose life he may have helped destroy by giving in to his own selfish passion.

Vincent felt Cloud's arm around him now and heard him ask, "Was it something I did? If it is, I'm really sorry."

Vincent shook his head. "It isn't you, my love," he replied. "It's something from the past." Vincent looked up again and made his eyes meet Cloud's. "Cloud. . . . If you do want this . . . there's something you should know."

Cloud waited for him to continue. "And that's. . . ?"

Vincent held Cloud's hands. God, this is impossible. "You . . . I . . . I wasn't locked away in that coffin for the last thirty years. Not for all of it. There was a time twelve years ago when Hojo freed me for awhile, and I did something then that I'm not exactly proud of." Vincent took a deep breath. Please don't stop loving me. Even though you probably should. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just come out and say it: I was with Sephiroth. He was only eighteen then, not yet famous, and it was only for one night. And . . . I was his first."

Cloud's already large eyes grew even larger. "Sephiroth? The same --"

"Not quite. He was still human then, and extremely fragile." Vincent put his hand to Cloud's cheek. "Your youth and innocence remind me of him."

Cloud's brow furrowed slightly in puzzlement, and Vincent could see the mental gears turning. Could imagine Cloud's attempts to assimilate this new vision of Sephiroth with the others he possessed: legendary warrior, ruthless megalomaniac, and now, the young man who Vincent remembered -- completely at odds with the other two. "We've got time," Cloud said, finally. "I think you should tell me from the beginning."

* * *

I remember when Hojo first opened the lid of my coffin. The light of the basement wasn't really that bright, but after my spending the last eighteen years in total darkness, it was still enough to blind me temporarily. I almost wished the effect was permanent when Hojo's smiling face came into focus.

"Wake up, Vincent," Hojo sang. "How does it feel to rejoin the world of the living after sleeping for eighteen years?"

"I've been better," I replied, then sat up and stretched. I blinked at him. "Why are you releasing me?"

"I have yet to see how you respond to the outside world in your altered state, and moreover, I can think of no further tests to run on you while you're unconscious. Thus, I shall begin the next series."

No further tests, he had said. I wondered what he had done to me, but wasn't quite sure I wanted an answer. Nor did I relish the idea of spending another moment as Hojo's laboratory specimen. But, oh, to get out of that coffin again! To remember how the sunlight felt and to see the sky! To speak with another human being (though Hojo barely counted as such) in the world beyond my dreams. . . . Then I gasped and asked, "Lucrecia. Is she alright?" True, she had left me for this man some time before my confinement, but I had never stopped loving her. In some ways, I never will.

Hojo replied, "I wish I knew. She disappeared not long after Sephiroth's birth."

I looked around. "Where's Professor Gast?" They usually worked on projects together.

"He died over twenty years ago."

Now came the ultimate question. "And how is Sephiroth. Your son." Or, as Hojo probably thought of him, his prize project.

Hojo laughed. "The experiment was a rousing success! His power is incredible." He sized me up as I stepped out of the coffin. "You were worried over nothing, you know. If you don't believe me, you can visit him yourself."

I didn't merely accept his offer. I insisted on it. Sephiroth was Lucrecia's son, too, and because of that, I cared for him.

Hojo and I went to the local inn where Sephiroth, on leave from SOLDIER, would be staying for the next seven days. "He could have chosen any place," Hojo mused as we walked down the hall. "Wutai. Costa del Sol. And yet, he returned here. I wonder if he's somehow drawn to Jenova?" He knocked on Sephiroth's door.

"Who is it?" came a youthful, masculine voice from the other side.

"Professor Hojo," Hojo replied, "and a former colleague."

Silence. " . . . Come in." Hojo opened the door.

Sephiroth was sitting at the little round table by the window, reading a book, and he slowly looked up at us. My heart skipped a beat when I saw his face.

"Vincent Valentine," Hojo announced, "this is Sephiroth, First Class officer of SOLDIER and pride of Shinra Inc.Sephiroth, this is Vincent Valentine, a former member of the Turks."

Cautiously, Sephiroth said, "Hello."

For a time, I couldn't speak. My words were lost to Sephiroth's beauty. His rich, piercing blue-green eyes. His smooth, perfect skin and all that flowing silver hair, both which almost begged to be touched to confirm their reality. He was dressed in black from head to toe, silk tunic open almost to his navel, and I tried not to stare at his sculpted. . . . I fought not to blush and looked at the wall, but my visions of the body beneath those clothes were burned into my mind's eye. I realized right then just how long I'd been locked away.

"Um . . . hello," I said.

The corner of Sephiroth's mouth quirked up in something like a smile. "Not much for words, are you?"

I laughed a little. "Sometimes yes; sometimes no."

"Don't worry about it. Some people say the same of me." He paused, then asked, "Would you like to have lunch with me downstairs? This inn's restaurant is quite good."

I squashed the feelings I had for this boy, remembering this was Crecia's son . . . and Hojo's. That I had been there when he was born. That he was only eighteen years old. Out of politeness, I said, "Alright." Hojo cast me a suspicious look, but didn't invite himself to join us. I could almost read his thoughts: Don't tell him anything. I wasn't planning to.

Hojo went back to the Shinra mansion while Sephiroth and I went to lunch. I didn't have any money, of course, so Sephiroth paid for both of our meals. He had a sandwich, soup and a glass of juice; I had water and attempted a salad, but couldn't keep it down. (I'm guessing that all those years in stasis and Hojo's manipulations hadn't done much for my digestive system.) Once I returned to the table, Sephiroth put his hand on my shoulder, asking me if I was alright. I told him that I was and silently wished he wouldn't touch me. The fire didn't need more fuel.

To make matters even more awkward, Sephiroth just watched me for the longest time as I nursed my glass of water, studying me, until he finally said, "I've never seen anyone with red eyes before. Dragons and certain bats, perhaps, but never a human being."

I replied, "I'm not a normal human being," and took another sip.

"How so?"

" . . . It's too long a story."

"I understand. I tend to keep my secrets, too." Sephiroth laughed and added bitterly, "As if I even know what half of them are. My mother is dead, I don't have a father, and I spent most of my life in a lab as part of Shinra's 'research.'" He laughed again. "I may as well have dropped from the sky."

"Do you know your mother's name?"

"Hojo told me her name was Jenova."

Jenova. That alien . . . thing stored in Mako Reactor #1. When Sephiroth named that -- not Lucrecia -- as his mother, I felt ill all over again. I remembered Crecia's pregnancy, how she was so radiant then. . . . I remembered how I wished the child she carried was mine, not Hojo's, remembered trying to convince her that Professor Gast and Hojo's plans were insane and unnecessary. But I only stood by helplessly as Hojo and Professor Gast dosed Crecia and her unborn child with Jenova cells and Mako.

How often have they lied to you? I wondered, watching Sephiroth finish his meal and quietly searching his face, his eyes, his every gesture for even a fraction of the truth. How much have they kept from you, besides your mother's love?

Sephiroth looked up at me and tilted his head slightly. "I feel like I know you somehow. Didn't Hojo say. . . ?"

"Yes," I told him, "we've worked together before."

Sephiroth gasped. "Did you know prof. . . ." His voice trailed off, as did his hope. "No. You're too young. He died when I was seven." I knew he meant Professor Gast, originator of the Jenova Project.

My heart went out to him. "Not quite as young as you think."

We spent the afternoon discussing Professor Gast, who Sephiroth apparently held in far higher esteem than he did his father. He spoke glowingly of Professor Gast's scientific brilliance, his kindness ("He always smiled at me"), his patience. And Hojo . . . well. . . . Let's say that going by Sephiroth's words, he didn't compare with Gast favorably in any of those respects. He was only "A second-rate scientist attempting to follow in the footsteps of a genius" and "That man."

I told Sephiroth much about the professor, but as little as I could about his own origins. The truth was frightening to me. What could it do to this young man who had been told nothing of it before?

Yes, I helped preserve the lies that Sephiroth had been told. Yet another of my many sins, even if I believed this was for his own good.


Sephiroth and I spent a lot of time together during his stay in Nibelheim. It seems he'd sort of claimed me as his kindred spirit -- especially once I confessed that I, too, was the product of Shinra experimentation -- and wanted to be near me whenever he could. We had lunch together every day of his stay and always remained at our table to talk long after the plates had been cleared away. I was content to be his friend. I had accepted the fact that that was all we'd ever be and all we were ever meant to be, and I sensed that he needed one desperately. In some ways, he struck me still as a vulnerable child. Deprived of love when he was small and in search of it ever since. I believe that's why he became so attached to me so quickly; I wonder if that's why he said what he did on his last full day in Nibelheim.

"Vincent," Sephiroth said softly while we sat at our table in the inn's restaurant, "I think I'm in love with you." My secret dream and my worst nightmare, all given me in the same eight words. We had simply been discussing the weather less than a minute before, a decent prelude for a bolt from the blue.

"You . . . what?" I responded feebly.

Sephiroth bit his lip and averted his gaze. "Look, ah, forget I said anything." He laughed nervously and said, "Hey, did I ever tell you about my mission in Wutai? There was a disturbance near the temple. . . ." Much to my relief. I was glad that he believed my tension was due to disinterest. Less the temptation for me to bear.

Then, he came to see me that night.

I was alone in my room in the Shinra mansion. I was about to go to bed and wearing only a red silk robe, and I wondered who was knocking on my door at such a late hour. I assumed that it was Hojo, come to draw more blood or run another test. Opening the door and seeing Sephiroth there came as a shock to me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. "It's almost midnight!" Hoping seconds later that I hadn't sounded too harsh.

Sephiroth told me, "I have to apologize to you. I won't be able to sleep if I don't."

"Apologize?"

"For what I told you at lunch today. I . . . said it because I thought you wanted me." Sephiroth looked away in shame. "Had I realized that you're not attracted to men, I never would have said such a thing. You're my friend; I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Sephiroth laughed bitterly. "Now, I've probably done it again, coming to you with this at this hour. . . . Look, I'll just go --"

"Don't. Please."

Sephiroth appeared as surprised to hear those words as I was to have spoken them. But he did stay there, his expression questioning. Waiting.

I meant to tell him I wasn't offended. I wanted to tell him, "Sephiroth, I am still your friend, and nothing you say will change that," or something similar, something reassuring yet strictly platonic. I placed my hand on Sephiroth's shoulder, faced with those aqua-green eyes that were pleading with me to give him much more. "Sephiroth. . . ." was all I could manage. There was nothing more I could say to him in words.

In a heartbeat, I was kissing him and holding him close -- so close -- and slipping my tongue past his soft, sweet lips as he returned the favor. I might've pulled away right then, realizing what was happening. I should've pulled away right then before it was too late. But it wasn't so easy once Sephiroth slid his hands inside my robe.

* * *

"Do you think he planned it that way?" Cloud asked.

Vincent shook his head. "Hoped, perhaps, but not planned."

"Was he good?"

"A natural. Which is why I didn't know he was a virgin until later."

* * *

Sephiroth reached inside my robe and massaged my chest, making me shiver, and I didn't protest when he untied my belt. I couldn't help smiling a bit when he looked down and said, "Nature was very kind to you." Then, his fingertips brushed me there just long enough to tease. I couldn't take it anymore. I quickly ushered Sephiroth near my bed, bruised his lips with a kiss and began to undress him. But I felt his body tense when I touched him intimately.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "If you'd prefer we didn't. . . ."

Sephiroth shook his head. "No, really," he said, "I've dreamed of this since the day we met. It's just that I've . . . " he lowered his lashes modestly, " . . . I've never been touched like that before."

"By a man?" I asked.

"No. By anyone."

Tenderly, I brushed aside a few wisps of his extravagantly long silver hair. He was more beautiful right then than I ever could have imagined. "Are you sure you want this, Sephiroth?"

He reached up and placed his hand over mine. "Only with you."

I should've turned back then. I should've pulled my robe around me, turned away and told him to get dressed before something happened we'd both regret later. But here was this exquisite creature looking at me with such pure adoration, offering himself to me and me alone. More importantly, I loved him. I loved him so much then I thought my heart would break. Any attempt to express it in words would have been an abysmal failure; I had to show him physically. I put my doubts aside and promised him a night to remember.
* * *

Cloud shook his head in disbelief. "You," he said, "Sephiroth's first. Ever." Vincent was resting against the pillows, and Cloud was nestled comfortably in Vincent's arms. "I knew it had to be someone, but this is pretty out there."

Vincent told him, "Strange, but true."

"Who was your first?"

Vincent smiled with a touch of regret. "That's an entirely different story." Truthfully, he didn't remember her name -- if he ever knew it. He only knew that he'd been fifteen at the time, and that she was a gorgeous brunette about ten years his senior. Vincent wasn't exactly proud of that night (or of the other nights he had spent with attractive, nameless strangers), and he preferred not to think about it.

"Was it Lucrecia?" Cloud pressed on.

"She was my first love, but not my first lover. Let's concentrate on one thing at a time."

* * *

I cannot . . . no, I refuse to relate the details of what happened that night. Regardless of what Sephiroth may think of me now, the night that he and I made love will always be sacred to me, and much of what we shared shall be known forever to us only. But still, I have to say that it was nothing short of heaven. The warmth of his body next to mine. The gentle caress of his breath on my skin. How his waist-length starlight silver hair fell over me like a shimmering blanket of fine silk and how I immersed my hands in it, savoring the feel and the clean, soapy smell of it. His every last sigh and shiver and moan is an integral part of the memory; every time he called my name is poetry, written in blood on my heart and soul.

I remember how right afterward, he rested his head on my shoulder, favoring me once more with the whisper-touch of his silver hair. I held him in my arms and rested my cheek on top of his head. Then, I heard and felt my Sephiroth begin to sob in my embrace.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, concerned for my young lover. I was afraid he'd realized now that he had made an awful mistake, one which couldn't be undone. But in response, he only shook his head, looked up at me and smiled.

"I never thought . . . it could be like this," Sephiroth told me in a lonely child's voice, tracing my jawline with his fingertips. "Not for me. I. . . ." He closed his eyes and placed his head on my shoulder again, letting his warm tears stream down my chest.

I said to him, "I love you, too," and we soon fell asleep in each other's arms.


I was the first to wake up the next morning. I stretched and yawned and smiled, still within the dream. I looked over at Sephiroth and brushed his hair away from his beautiful face, so innocent in sleep, and thought, He looks so young. I remembered suddenly that he was only eighteen, and something about his face right then looked so much like Lucrecia. . . .

This boy could have been my son. I knew that he wasn't, but this thought disturbed me greatly. I had been with his mother, too, and now he was here beside me in my bed. This was the thought I had pushed aside, the thing that I'd been able to ignore last night but couldn't any longer.

He isn't a child, Vincent, and he offered himself to you willingly.

But he doesn't know who I really am!

Do you think he'd care?

But what if I. . . ?

I shook my head and buried my face in my hands, cursing myself for what I had done. I needed time to think. I didn't even know what I was feeling anymore, and I hated myself for having given in to passion instead of listening to my conscience. "Sephiroth."

He sighed in his sleep and turned away from me.

I tapped him on the shoulder. "Sephiroth!"

Sephiroth rolled onto his back, opened his eyes and smiled drowsily. "Mm? Oh, Vincent. What a fine sight to wake up to."

"Sephiroth," I said, "I know it's early, and I apologize for saying this, but you should probably go. If Hojo ever finds out about this. . . ."

Sephiroth sat up, stretched and chuckled. "He would probably die, wouldn't he?"

"Yes. And he'd take me with him."

"Say no more, my love. God knows I don't want to lose you." Sephiroth rose from the bed, giving me one last good look at his naked, well-formed body before he dressed. "Until next time," he said and placed a gentle kiss on my lips -- also for the last time -- before he left for the inn. Now, it was my turn to cry for missing him already.

* * *

"You really loved him, didn't you," Cloud said softly.

Vincent nodded. "With every ounce of my being, just like I love you now. I may despise what he's become, but I'll always love the young man he once was."

"Were you the one who ended it? Or was he?"

"In a sense, it was me. I handled things horribly." Vincent looked heavenward and blinked back his tears. "I didn't know what to do from that point, so I didn't do anything. And I ended up giving him all of the pain I'd been hoping to spare him that way."

* * *

Sephiroth wrote me almost every day, saying how he longed to see me again, how he couldn't wait for us to make love again. Always signing those letters with, "All my love, Sephiroth." I didn't have the heart write him back. My longing was the same, but what and who I knew kept getting in the way. I hoped every day that he would find someone else and forget about me, but he never did. Then, after about three months of unanswered letters, Sephiroth wrote me a note which only said, "Vincent, if you ever loved me, please write back. I'm begging you." I got out a sheet of paper and took the pen in my hand, but the right words never came. I only sent back a tearstained, "I'm sorry." No more letters came.

One week and five days later, Sephiroth returned to Nibelheim. I was having lunch alone at the inn and was shocked to see him heading my way, blue-green eyes as cold as frosted jade."You're sitting at our table," he said coolly. "How ironic."

"Sephiroth," I began, "let me explain."

"Explain what? Why you lied to me? Why you let me think you loved me, just so you could. . . ." Sephiroth gave a hollow, bitter laugh, and the hatred I saw in him frightened me. I'd known from the day we met that there was something fragile inside him. That "something" was part of why I loved him. But it wasn't until this very moment -- until I was sitting here and staring its reality right in the face -- that I knew just how unstable Sephiroth was. I had just witnessed a glimpse of his future. I wonder sometimes if I helped send him there.

"You were laughing at me, weren't you, Vincent?" Sephiroth went on. His was a quiet rage that never raised its voice, the kind that cuts you to the bone. "It must've been very amusing to you, watching me cry like a baby that night and hearing me go on about how much what we'd done meant to me." A knife carved out of twisted pain.

I started to tell him, "Sephiroth, please, I --" but he didn't let me finish.

"Save it." Sephiroth leaned over, cupped my chin in his hand and asked, "Was I a good fuck?" Lightning fast, he grabbed me by the hair so hard that I cried out. He threw me on the floor and kicked me in the ribs before he walked away. Everyone was staring, but no one dared make a move towards me until Sephiroth was gone.

"Who was that guy?" asked a young woman who came to my aid.

Wincing, I pulled myself up to my knees. " . . . Old friend," I managed as she helped me to my feet. I was sure at least one of my ribs was broken, and my fingers came away red when I put them to my lips. But this was no more that what I deserved for what I'd done to Sephiroth. And what if he was right? What if, ultimately, it was only lust that had led to that night? I didn't want to end up hurting anyone else I went to Hojo for examination of my wounds . . . and to request the rest of my penance.

* * *
"You asked him to lock you up again?" Cloud said in disbelief.

Vincent replied, "I didn't believe I deserved to be free, not even as a lab specimen. Not after what I'd done." He was quiet for a time. "Hojo was reluctant at first, but after I told him I'd slept with his son. . . . The last thing Hojo said to me was that he should've cut off more than my arm. Maybe he does have paternal instincts after all."

Cloud frowned slightly. "So . . . you're afraid to love me because. . . ."

"Because I might end up hurting you, just like I did to him." Vincent looked away, his long, midnight hair partially hiding his face like a heavy veil. "I'm as certain of my love for you as I was with Crecia or Sephiroth, but in both of those cases, my love wasn't enough. And with Sephiroth. . . ." Vincent sighed. "Cloud, you're only three years older than Sephiroth was then And would I be correct in guessing that you're just about as innocent?"

"Maybe," Cloud admitted, "but Vincent, I'm not Sephiroth, and I know you're not the person he said you were. Just the fact that this is still eating you up proves you're not the type."

"But the way I felt when I first saw him --"

"Proves you're only human. Nothing more; nothing less."

Vincent was silent, unconvinced. Cloud, of course, picked up on this . . . and started undoing Vincent's belt buckle.

"Cloud, what are you. . . ?"

"You can stop me whenever you like," Cloud told him, grinning, his lips a breath away from Vincent's ear, "but I don't think you want to. You might be afraid of 'taking advantage' of me, but I don't mind seducing you one bit," all the time working on getting Vincent's pants undone.

Vincent, getting the message, laughed in spite of himself. He flipped Cloud onto his back and pinned him by the wrists. "If that's the way you feel," Vincent said huskily, "there's only one thing I can do."

Cloud licked his lips. "Re-e-eally. What?"

"Defend myself." Vincent looked deep into Cloud's azure eyes and kissed him with all of the passion he had been saving for the last twelve years. From that point on, there was no turning back.

THE END.