Miasma

Chapter 19

Trigger Warnings: detailed birth scene 

They had about three weeks of relative peace.

Looking back on it, Genesis couldn't help but wonder at how large a stretch of time they'd been provided considering everything that was going on around them. The months before that had proffered them nothing but brief reprieves; breathless, desperate gasps of quiet between howling, tempestuous storms of worry, hunger, displacement, and fear. Every time they stopped to rest, it seemed like something nameless was creeping up behind them. A dark...ominous cloud of metaphorical cataclysm that they couldn't shake pursued them like the inevitable sweep of the tide. It was hard to be calm in the face of something that you couldn't name or identify with concrete surety...when you were always niggled by the idealism of disaster with no clear picture of what or when that disaster would be. Sometimes they were worried about Shinra, sometimes it was the elements around them, and sometimes it was the mere looming reality of their impending parenthood. There were a multitude of things to worry about that they couldn't solve, but were forced to consider nonetheless.

The initial days were spent in a kind of anxious stasis. On the morning of the first, Genesis woke to find Sephiroth looking at him like he fully expected him to disappear within the next few minutes. Beryl irises were fixed upon him as if he was something wrought from his imagination and not an individual of solid flesh. It was a bit strange, really. They'd spent so much time with each other and only each other that the idea of one of them vanishing in a puff of smoke was almost ludicrous, but the fear was still there. He supposed that it could come from the ingrained supposition that disaster was imminent no matter how hard they tried to avoid it. Amplified by the inevitable birth of their child, that feeling was only multiplied tenfold. It was strange to try and fall into some semblance of normalcy; to adjust to understanding that despite the fact that everything outside of their hotel room was as far from normal as possible, they had to try and live normally.

From what Zack had told them, and from what they could see, Shinra had stationed extra troops in major towns on the Northern Continent simply because they were speculated to be there. Icicle in was a central hub for the men and the fact that they were-essentially-taking a rest behind enemy lines never escaped them. They never left the room, and they never ventured outside the parameters of the fenced-in yard...which they only used in the very early morning or very late at night. Whatever alibi Angeal's protegee had told the staff seemed to be effective because they were never disturbed, and Fair was quick to help them with fetching towels and doing laundry whenever it was needed. He brought up their groceries personally, and if he didn't have time to on an odd day, they utilized whatever leftovers were in the fridge. The youngest of their duo turned trio also provided them with a deck of cards, a few assorted books, several old films he'd likely nicked off of his fellow SOLDIERS, a blank journal and some pencils, and a very dilapidated chess set. At first, Genesis hadn't really understood the significance of the gesture until he found himself so incredibly bored he could hardly stand it. They spent many a good night honing their logical strategies over the chessboard and trying to best each other's poker face with the deck of cards. The former Commander occasionally utilized the journal but Sephiroth was never one to sit down and write for no reason other than paperwork so he didn't do it very often.

They ended up postponing their meeting with Zack in order to take several days to catch their figurative breath. Sephiroth was tired...Genesis was tired and they spent a good amount of time doing absolutely nothing but lying around staring at the ceiling and occasionally talking to each other. There was something oddly satisfying about seeing his partner idle. He supposed that in any other setting it would be a strange thing for him to say, but in this particular situation, he was grateful. Being able to look over and see Sephiroth sitting at the kitchen table barefoot, with his feet up and a pair of sweatpants on made something in his chest that seemed chronically anxious and tight loosen a little bit. It was-if possible-harder for the former General to relax than it was for him. He wasn't entirely sure why...though he guessed that it was maybe out of an ingrained sense of self-preservation. The younger man had dark circles under his eyes until about the third night, and he didn't eat well until the fifth.