Working Title: Nights in White Satin.

Disclaimer.

They aren’t mine; I make no claim to them… But, when you get tired of them Square, I know some people who would take them off your hands so damned fast your heads will spin! The working title for this fic is from one of my favourite songs and the reason behind it will become clear in a later chapter. It belongs to the moody blues.

Dedications: Xineko.

My inspiration for this fic and also my wonderful beta reader.

Basic Story.

Squall Leonhart, lone wolf and all round gorgeous bishie, was born in the ff7 universe. More will become clear as you continue to read. Please review, telling me what you think so far.

Part One

The new recruits were a mess. Their attention formed shamefully sloppy ranks as a ‘SOLDIER: class three’ called instructions.

Behind the class three officer, a tall gentleman in black watched with an unappreciative eye. This was the second lot he’d seen today, and he believed it possible they were even worse than the first. He really was losing all faith in the recruitment abilities of the Turks.

A third group of shouting and laughing young men tramped onto the muddied field, in three wobbly rows.  As he walked down in front of the lines, he noted some stares of wonder.

Inevitable, that he would be recognised; his exploits in the Wutaian War had been well publicized. His face was as well known as the stars of Midgar television shows.

Two young men caught his eye in the final row. The first couldn’t be a day over sixteen…a shock of blonde hair and wild, startling blue eyes.  He was still young enough to be called beautiful by all those who set eyes upon him. The boy (for really he was no more than that) seemed very familiar. The silver-haired general wondered if he had a brother; or perhaps his father had served for ShinRa…

Sephiroth moved along to the next young man and his breath caught in his throat.  The youth looked back at him with a gaze cold enough to turn his heart to ice…  Feather-soft hair in a myriad of browns cut roughly around his face, falling loose into his eyes and across his cheeks.  It shimmered, even in the dullness of the overcast afternoon, his hair shone in a thousand shades: from nutmeg to chocolate and the faintest strands of whiskey-amber.

The cold eyes that stared back into the General’s were the darkest tone of slate blue, edging out to a paler grey and dotted with flecks of silver. High cheekbones and a small angular nose punctuated his pale features; the soft pink of his lips was frozen in the faintest of scowls…and on his brow, an old scar, fading, years old.

Desperate to break his gaze from that of the youth’s, Sephiroth glanced down at the list; afraid he might fall further under the boy’s spell.  The silver-haired general moved on, glaring at his clipboard.

When he reached the end of the row he glanced back to that nutmeg-haired boy, and their eyes met again for a moment before the general turned away and hurried on.

“Dismissed!” The ‘SOLDIER: class three’ shouted, adding: “Your room listings will be posted on the announcement board of the barracks.

As they filed away, Sephiroth could not bring himself to watch them go.  “Any potential sir?” the officer who had been barking commands asked.

“Some.” Sephiroth replied, his voice distant.

“Well, that’s the lot for today.  You don’t look too good sir, d’you want me to fetch someone?”

“No…” Sephiroth waved a hand dismissively, “I just need a good nights sleep.”

“See you tomorrow then sir.”  The SOLDIER in the green uniform of third class moved further out into the fields to practice his sword techniques on the monsters that had come to investigate the remains of the day.

The silver-haired general shook his head, began his walk back to the barracks.

*******

The last few SOLDIER candidates lingered, trying to decipher the handwriting on the room list, as Sephiroth neared.  The general noticed that same spellbinding brunette running one finger down the page, obviously searching for his name.

He turned to look at a blonde, standing at the back of the knot of candidates.  A slight smile lightened his expression, making this brunette even more stunning than before.

“What?” the blonde asked curiously.

“We’re in the same dorm, Cloud!”

Cloud jumped up and down on the spot, unruly blond hair bouncing.  “- Yes!” he exclaimed enthusiastically and as he landed, he stumbled backwards…falling against something solid: someone solid.  “Shit…” Cloud muttered under his breath and turned to see none other than…Sephiroth.

Sephiroth cleared his throat in annoyance.

“oh…I’msosorrysirpleaseforgiveme!” Cloud begged, dusting off Sephiroth’s cape and stepping back.

The brunette had joined them, and was nearly smirking. “Sorry Sir.  He’s a little excitable, and sometimes, more than a little dense…right, Cloud?”

Cloud nodded, completely awed by this familiar stranger, oblivious to his friend’s insults.

“Come on, you” the enthralling young man with whiskey-and-coffee hair said, pulling the one called Cloud away.

Sephiroth stood watching them head towards the stairs at the end of the hallway, and his presence soon cleared the corridor of other SOLDIER candidates. When he was sure he was alone, he pulled the room listing from the board and studied the names on it.

There was only one person with the first name ‘Cloud’; rooming with him were two other young men.  One had pulled out at the last minute, didn’t have the guts for a life with the ShinRa armed forces.  That left only one name.

The name of the boy he had so suddenly become infatuated with…

His name was Squall Leonhart.

********

The following day dawned bright but cold.  The hopefuls collected their chosen specialist weapon and trudged out onto the field.  Each member of SOLDIER was trained in the basics: hand-to-hand combat, firearms and, of course, sword techniques.  Candidates were also expected to specialize in one weapon; their armaments were assigned based on skills assessed at recruitment.

The majority chose handguns and semi-automatic weapons. The very thought disgusted Sephiroth.  Such an elegant and intimate weapon as the sword set aside for remote and impartial firearms…where was the honour in that sort of combat?

He had seen too many guns in his lifetime.  In the Wutaian war, he’d watched two friends, very good friends, cut in half by a rake of machine gun fire.  He had been awash with their blood.  They’d actually thought that Sephiroth, SOLDIER first class and General of the best platoon of men in the whole damned war, was injured.

When he got to the men behind the machine gun post, there were only a few fragments of bone left; the ground had been stained crimson.

Perhaps that was when he became so withdrawn…he’d lost his first lover on the battlefield that day.  Yet he’d never had the time to mourn…until now.

Shinra himself told Sephiroth that he needed some time away from real battles: perhaps it would be wise for the silver-haired general to spend some time passing on his skills to a new generation of SOLDIER candidates…?

He’d agreed, but was now wondering what was expected of him.  He was also wondering what weapon that beautiful brown-haired youth named Squall had chosen.

His question was answered as soon as he entered the sword training area.  The whole class was gathered around two figures going at it with all they had. The clash of steel on steel was deafening. The keening cry of the blades drowned the screams of the tutor for order.

Sephiroth forced his way through the crush of students to see the two young men: Cloud and Squall.  Each held buster sword, going at it all out, hammer and tongs.  As the silver haired general watched, Cloud performed the move known as “Braver”; Squall easily blocked and countered with “Cross slash”.

The two friends were locked in a battle for their lives, or so it seemed.  Finally, Cloud stumbled, faltering, and Squall dropped his blade. “I yield” the brunette said, his mouth set in the faint scowl that became him so well.  There was a sparkle of admiration in his eyes for his opponent, and Sephiroth wondered: why would Squall surrender with victory so close at hand?

The class began anew, order restored, and Sephiroth remained to watch these two who had so much natural talent.  He could see that these young men would be excellent.  Perhaps someday, even better than he.

They would certainly be heroes.

In their own way.

********

“What do you think of Sephiroth?” Cloud asked.

“I dunno.” Squall mumbled as he stared up at the ceiling. “I’d like to know what his surname is.”

“It’s just - Sephiroth…like it’s just Shiva or Ifrit.”

“He must have had one at some time.” Squall pouted a little, thinking of the silver haired general with his breathtaking Mako-green eyes and strong hands…

“Would you…do him?”

“How teenage of you, Cloud.”

“I’m sixteen: sue me.  Besides, you can’t tell me you haven’t thought of it…”

“I doubt he’d consider a grunt like me.” Squall glanced over at the blonde who was lying on his own cot, throwing a ball up in the air with one hand and catching it in the other.

“See!  You have thought about it.  I knew it.”

Squall waited until the ball was almost at its highest point and said, “Fine, I’d like him to bend me over and fuck me senseless.”

In his shock, Cloud missed the ball and it struck him on the forehead. He sat up rubbing the spot and glaring daggers at a smirking Squall.  “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“Most definitely.”

********

A fortnight later….

Somewhere in the night, Sephiroth awoke, a cold sweat on his skin made him shiver…or was it the nightmare that had made him shiver? - Seeing his mother die at her own hand…  He wasn’t even sure if the dream was real, but it made him feel so frightened regardless. Professor Hojo had told the silver-haired boy that his mother had suffered a terrible mental illness and that her death had been a release for her. But Sephiroth had never trusted that slimy scientist.

His mouth was dry, so he rose from the bed, stepping into blue jeans and a pair of sneakers, and quietly exited his room on the third floor of the barracks.  Most officers had rooms with amenities, on the second floor, but Sephiroth preferred to sleep near his men, even when he wasn’t on the frontlines.

As he stepped out into the hallway with a faint squeak of rubber on hardwood, he rubbed his arms to prevent the gooseflesh from rising, thinking, ‘It’s colder than Shiva in here’.  As he rounded the corner, he saw a dark figure standing at the window, and silently cursed himself for leaving his weapon back in his room.

Raising his fists defensively, Sephiroth approached this intruder warily.  When he was within six feet away the man finally turned and looked at him.

“Leonhart.” Sephiroth stated, more to put himself at ease than anything else.

“Sir.” he nodded and resumed gazing out of the window.  Sephiroth wondered why, but carried on down, towards the kitchens to grab a soft drink.

On his return, he found the handsome young brunette, still staring out of the window.  Curiosity got the better of him.  He’d grown fond of the boy behind the seemingly cold but amazingly beautiful exterior; he acted indifferent to all but Cloud.  And he was bright: astoundingly so.  He had more potential than most of the others put together.

“What’s wrong?” Sephiroth asked in a low voice.

Squall looked up into the shining green eyes of his superior officer, the smallest amount of surprise in his gaze.  Completely engrossed in thought, he hadn’t even noticed the silver-haired general.

“Sorry sir?”

“I asked you what was wrong, Squall.”

“Nothing.” he whispered absently and returned to gazing out the window. Sephiroth reached out and with two fingers, turned the boy’s face back towards himself.

“I don’t believe you.”

Squall glared at Sephiroth with such ferocity it sent a shiver down his spine: the same look he had given his Mako-influenced general on his first day…the same look that made Sephiroth want to throw him against the wall and kiss him into submission.

“It’s not any of your business, Sir.”  He spat the last word with disgust and although the first-class SOLDIER knew he was risking pushing Squall away, he decided to take a chance.

“It is, when you’re on manoeuvres with me in the morning, and I find you here at two-thirty in the morning.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Squall replied simply.

“Why not? Strife snoring?” Sephiroth joked.

The brunette shook his head.  “It’s the anniversary of my sister’s death…” he murmured, “…my first one away in five years.”

“Sorry.” Sephiroth whispered.

“Don’t be - she committed suicide.” Squall said with bitterness in his voice; so sharp that Sephiroth winced.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why?”

“Not exactly sure why…she couldn’t stand living anymore...”

There was the faintest suspicion in Sephiroth’s mind that he was lying about not knowing, but he didn’t pursue it.  Especially when Squall turned and looked straight at him, the moon and starlight washing over his eyes and turning them into a pair of silver flares in the darkness. It was the sort of image that an artist would work for years quite gladly to get just right, and here it was in front of Sephiroth, and alive…with lips slightly parted…just begging to be kissed.

“Why are you up sir?”

Sephiroth shrugged, unable to break his gaze, utterly enchanted by the boy; slowly the gap between them was closing.  Squall’s eyes fluttered closed and finally, their lips met, each fighting for supremacy over the other’s mouth. Whose tongue darted out to taste the other’s mouth first, neither of them, could say. In that fleeting moment, there was more electricity between them than Ramuh’s attack.

Sephiroth pulled away too quickly, his mind whirling with thoughts of the scandal that would erupt if found out.  He pushed past Squall and returned to his room, leaving one very confused young man alone in the corridor.

A/N

I hope I did a good job of writing pre-Nibelheim Sephy. Thanks for reading, please read a review.

Thankyou for making my day dear readers.

Yours, as always,

NJWilcox

“Darksquall”