����������� Sephiroth stood up straight in the empty hallway, shaking his head to rid himself of the last of his vertigo.� Now he was determined to solve the riddle of this mansion.� He wanted to know what was happening to him, and why.� He wanted to know what it was he was seeing and feeling.
����������� He paused a moment to regain his balance before walking on until he caught a glimpse of a piano in a room to his left.� He stepped to the doorway, and didn�t see anything else of real interest.� But as he turned to go, he felt a strange urge, puling at his body and pleading with his mind.� He turned his head back to peer into the room, his attention drawn immediately to the grand piano, and before he knew it he was seated at the bench, long fingers resting lightly on the ivory keys.� The instrument was mostly dust-free; they obviously took quite good care of it.
����������� A small smile touched the professor�s lips as he brushed his fingertips over the keys, mildly delighting in the small grooves from year upon year of use.� He tentatively pressed down on an A, and smiled as he discovered the piano in tune.� He had been passably good with a piano when he was younger, but it had been a few years since he played.� And he shouldn�t play it now.� Who knew how long it had been since they had changed the wire?� He didn�t want to be responsible for damaging the instrument.
����������� But he felt the pulling again, and his eyes closed as his fingers began to press into the keys, forming a tune he didn�t recognize.� How could he play a song he didn�t know?� His head dropped lifelessly and he swayed very slightly as he played, the low, melancholy notes oozing from the instrument and drifting out into the corridor.
����������� Sephiroth opened his eyes then to glance down at the keys, but he never got that far.� His eyes widened as he looked out the small window that gave a nice view into the town, now obscured by smoke and orange flames that licked hungrily at the houses.� He tries to run for the window, the door, anything, but his body would let him do nothing but play.� Voices of the townsfolk, women, children, all screamed loud enough for him to hear, tortured cries assaulting his ears as the small of burning wood and flesh attacked his nostrils.
����������� He looked down at himself, trying to pull his hand from the piano so that he could help the people of the town, but his body wouldn�t cooperate.� What was he doing while that little girl was in danger?!� He had to break free of this, he had to help�wait a moment.� What had happened to his clothing?� It had changed; now instead of his casual suit he wore black leather from head to toe, metal-hinged gloves clinging to his slender fingers as they continued to play.� He felt the weight of a long coat behind him, and the thin straps of brown leather cross-crossed over his otherwise bare chest.� The metal plates covering the boots that reached his knees creaked ever so slightly as his foot moved to press on one of the pedals, allowing the notes to slip together.� On his belt there was a large buckle bearing a strange symbol.� Why did it look so familiar as well?
����������� Shaking his head, he broke free of his reverie and returned to trying to move away from the instrument.� Just as he began to panic, the room went silent.� He had stopped playing.� No one was screaming.� The flames had disappeared, leaving the town exactly as it had been.� And there his sat, in his own clothes again, staring dumbfounded out the window.� Another vision?� What did it mean?� He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and hastily sketched the symbol he had seen onto his palm.
����������� �Damnit,� he cursed aloud, a bit louder than he meant to.� He was frustrated beyond belief with all the riddles his mind had presented.� There had to be some explanation for all of it; Sephiroth began to become more sure of the idea that the answer lat within that mystery basement.� He knew it existed.� It had to.
����������� He slowly stood, feeling a bit weak in the knees, but he managed to leave the room.� The center staircase creaked in protest as he carefully made his way up it, first heading down the hallway to his left.� Two doors stood at the end of the hallway, one directly ahead of him and the other to his right.� Peeking into the one straight ahead and finding only clutter, he quickly opened the other door.� Inside was more clutter, surrounding a large metal safe as tall as his chest that lay open and empty.
����������� A small stand next to the safe bore a plaque, which read:� �The safe in this room was discovered already open and looked.� It did not seem to have been broken into.� It is assumed that the combination hinted at by the letter downstairs refers to this safe, but the former contents have never been discovered.�
����������� Sephiroth paused, tilting his head to the side a bit.� �Well the key would have been in here, then,� he mumbled to himself.� �The key to get to the man in the basement.�� He stopped, and blinked.� �Basement�I have to find the basement.�
����������� The professor turned on his heel and stalked purposefully out of the room, racking his mind for anything that might help him find the basement he simply knew was there.
����������� �Let�s see�down this corridor, around that corner�this room!�� He stood in front of the door for a moment, just staring at the weak, decorated wood of the entryway.� There had to be a way to the basement in this room.� There simply had to be.� But did the answers he sought lie within that basement?� He took a deep break, and in one smooth motion opened the door and slipped inside.� His breath caught in his chest as he quickly glanced around.
����������� A desk, and end table, and a small wooden chair.� Nothing else.
����������� Sephiroth stepped further inside, turning a slow circle to look att around.� He let out a low growl, spitting out a curse and slamming the side of his fist against the stone wall in frustration.� A sudden grating of rock on rock brought a startled yelp from him, and he stepped back as the wall began to move.� A door appeared as the stone slid to the side, leading down to a rickety-looking spiral staircase that near disappeared into the darkness at the bottom.� His eyes widened as he leaned over the edge, peering down at the small trickle of light coming from what appeared to be a hallway at the bottom of the stair.
����������� �This has to be it�how didn�t they notice this?� Didn�t they check everything?� �Those stairs don�t look too stable.� But if I die, I die.� No big loss.�� With that, he stepped out cautiously onto the first step, pausing to listen to the uneasy creaking as it settled against itself.� �Well that one�s safe at least.�� He continued to the bottom, slowly, testing each step before putting his full weight on it.� Where was that light coming from?� Surely no one was down here�oh.� Lamps.� The stop spell must have kept them lit for this long.� He peered up at the oddly still fire in the lamps for just a moment before continuing down the cave like hallway.� A shudder ran through him; this basement felt even more familiar than the rest of the mansion, like a large part of him he never knew existed had been left here, waiting patiently for him to return and retrieve it.� As he neared the door at the end of the hallway, his heart pounding without him really knowing why, a soft glint caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.� He turned to face it, and saw an open door that had completely missed his notice, with the handle of a small golden key poking out of the keyhole.
����������� Hesitantly he stepped towards it, resting his hand on the hard wooden door.� Did he know this room?� �No.� Only a vague image of a locked door that was not important enough to bother finding the key for.� But now it was already unlocked.� He carefully pushed the door fully open and stepped inside, blinking at the sight of an open coffin in the middle of the room.� What in the hell?� Sephiroth moved over to the coffin, crouching to the floor and reaching out to gently touch the side, feeling out the soft red velvet inside.� It looked as though it had been occupied for quite some time, yet now there was no sign of a body or even a skeleton.� As he looked the smooth wooden body over with a furrowed brow, he paused, and peered more closely at the underside of the open lid, lightly letting his fingers brush where a single word had been scratched into the wood by what looked like fingernails.
����������� �Lucretia,� Sephiroth murmured, the name sending a shiver down his spine.� What did that mean?� Yet another mystery had presented itself.� The professor sighed, rising to his feet and running a hand through his hair.� What the hell was going on?� What were all of these memories?� He scuffed his foot on the dirty stone floor in frustration.� He came here to find answers, and instead all he found were more questions, more riddles.
����������� It seemed apparent, however, that this must have been the room containing the men spoke about in the letter.� If that was the case, where was he now?� How long had it been since the door had been unlocked?� If the key was in the safe, and no one knew what had happened to the contents of the safe, then this door must have been unlocked long before the museum became such, perhaps even during the war.� Well.� That was one relatively small puzzle solved.� And yet the identity of the man in the coffin sparked his curiosity.� Who was he?� Who had put him there? �Why?� �And what kind of experiments had been done on him?� He hoped it wasn�t something too ghastly, though his gut told him that it was.� There was a feeling of remorse and guilt in this room, and Sephiroth could feel it seeping into every inch of his being.
����������� With a shudder, Sephiroth decided to temporarily abandon that mystery, so he turned and left the room, heading for the other door.� This one he opened without hesitation, thinking that by now he should be prepared for the unexpected.� But as soon as he stepped inside, the man felt as if he would wet his pants in joy.
����������� Books.� Books.� And more books.� On the shelves, on the tables, stacked on the floor, some open, some closed, some worn, some new.� And all undoubtedly from the Holy War era!� Surely his questions could he answered here!� Surely any question could be answered here!� And even if he still had visions, who cared?� It would take him weeks to get through a library such as this!
����������� With the grin and step of an excited schoolboy, Sephiroth rushed to the first stack of books and picked one up, not caring about the topic of the content in the least as he eagerly flipped through pages.� Not even the faint small of the mold that had dared to touch a few of the tomes, or the foreboding feeling the air in the room tried to heap upon his shoulders could distract him from his euphoria.� He fumbled in his coat pocket for his glasses, hastily shoving them onto his face before glancing down to the book once more, and he began to softly read aloud the words on the first page.
~X~
����������� It was still a small number of hours before sunset in Junon, and Rufus was only just preparing to leave the University.� His last class of the day had ended some forty-five minutes ago, but as he stood behind his desk gathering the last of his things, his classroom door was thrown open, and a tall, lanky boy with dark red hair rushed inside.� He glanced around hurriedly, his chest rising and falling with his quick, erratic pants.� �Am I late?�
����������� Rufus ticked an eyebrow as he glanced to the boy, looking him up and down.� He was just barely filled enough to avoid being called skinny, but his legs seemed twice as long as his torso, and his long arms hung listlessly down at his sides, moving along with his shoulders as he breathed.� He wore dark blue jeans that were faded on the front, as though someone had polished something against them, clinging shamelessly low on his slim hips only to become baggy further on down his legs, the cuffs falling over a pair of heavy black boots.� His ragged-looking t-shirt was white, with a small hole near the bottom hem, and the words �Touch my monkey?� across the front in brown, a silhouette of a small cartoonish money behind them.� His left ear had been pierced with a small silver hoop, and oval sunglasses were perched on top of his wild bangs, which hung down to his cheekbones.� The rest of his hair was cut short in the back, with the exception of the thin rattail that trailed down his back to finish just above his hips.� Bright blue eyes peered up at Rufus with mischief almost seeping out of them, but for the moment that was faded by his exhaustion.� He really wasn�t at all bad looking, except perhaps a bit scruffy.
����������� �Only by about three and a half hours.� You must be Mr. Nevada.� We were beginning to think you had given up on class entirely.�
����������� �Shit,� the student spat.� �I seriously meant to come today.� What�d I miss?�
����������� �Today, or the past three classes you were not present for?�
����������� �Both, I guess.�
����������� �You do realise that normally, since you have missed over three classes already, it is my responsibility to tell you not to come back.�
����������� �Don�t come back?� Well shit, I just got here!�
����������� �I noticed.� That�s why I�m going to give you another chance, but if you aren�t present for the next class, I will have no choice.� However, this favor will not come for free,� he said firmly, giving the boy a pointed look.
����������� The redhead took a step back, his expression twisting into one of faint disgust.� �Man, listen, I know how you college profs get paid for freebies, but I just don�t swing that way.�
����������� �Oh please,� Rufus grumbled, tapping a stack of papers into a neat pile on his desk before sliding them into his briefcase.� �Rest assured, you are quite safe from me in that respect.�
����������� The boy let out a sigh of relief, placing a hand over his heart.� �Good.� Scared me.� What do you want me to do, then?�
����������� �I want a handwritten summary of all we�ve covered so far, plus elaborations from other sources.� We�ve covered pages 215 to 380 in that book.�� He gestured to a shelf behind his desk.� �No less than 3,000 words.� Come here and I�ll give you a book.�
����������� ��� The student stepped over to the desk as Rufus turned and picked up a book.� He watched him sit down at the desk and remove a black pen form his inside coat pocket.
����������� �Normally you pay for these yourself.� I�m letting you borrow mine only until you can find enough change in your sofa to allow you to purchase you own.�
����������� �Right�Hey!�
����������� �What�s your first name?� he continued, ignoring him as he scrawled the last name into the front cover of the book with his slightly messy handwriting.
����������� �Reno,� he grumbled, perturbed at the professor�s assumption, however perfectly true it may have been.
����������� �How quaint.�� He finished writing the name and closed the book before offering it to him.� �There you are.� I will expect that paper the next time we meet.�
����������� �But that�s in three days!�
����������� �Should it take you more than one?�
����������� �Hell yes!� That�s a shitload of work!�
����������� �Must you be so vulgar?� I am providing you with a service here, one that goes against regulations, might I add.�
����������� Reno hmphed, folding his arms across his chest and leaning his weight on one foot to take on a posture of defiance, merely staring at the man who still held the large Economics book out to him.� �You really don�t want a blowjob or something?� You look like you like the man meat.�
����������� �I shall take that as a statement that you do not wish to continue Economics education at this University, and shall inform Dean Reeve of your dismissal first thing tomorrow.�� Rufus placed the book back on his desk, and stood, gathering his things.
����������� �Hey, no!�� The younger man hastily snatched up the book, grinning up at his instructor.� �I�ll have that paper for you next time we see each other, Mr.�.uh�what is your name anyway?�
����������� �To you, I am Professor ShinRa.�
����������� �Right.� I promise I�ll have that paper for ya, Professor.� Later!�� With that the boy scampered out of the room, the door closing noisily behind him.
����������� Rufus sighed, and moved to touch his forehead, but then he paused, and slowly removed his pure white gloves, using his handkerchief to wipe away the small amount of sweat that had built up in his palms.� What in the world was that about?� He hadn�t been nervous, had he?� That was usually the only time he sweat that way.� He shrugged, and set the gloves aside for a moment, dropping back into his chair and rubbing his temples to ease his new headache.� Sometimes it seemed they never ended anymore, they just let go enough to allow him to go on with his day, and then grabbed hold again later.� No amount of pills helped.� He had nearly put himself in the hospital once for accidentally taking too many.
����������� It was because of the empathy, he was sure of that by now.� Even when he wasn�t touching anything, he could feel strong emotions of anyone around him, be it joy, anger, or sadness.� Every day was a constant roller coaster ride.� And, expectedly, it gave him a headache.� It had happened more and more frequently since his powers became strong enough for him to notice.� They had been there since he was a child, very weak then, and gradually gotten stronger until they leveled out at about his eighth grade year.� The year before that was the first time someone had suggested wearing gloves to him.� Not the doctors, of course.� One of his friends had seen it in a movie, which apparently had said that most of empathic perception came through the hands.� So he tried it, and was quite happy to discover that information to be correct.�
����������� The doctors had told him that his powers would fade as he got older, but here he was, nearing twenty-six, and they had improved since his high school years.� His visions were more clear now, more distinct, and quite frequently he could even figure out what in the hell he was looking at.
����������� Ah well.� No time to be worrying about it now.� Rufus rose from his seat and scooped up his familiar briefcase, completely forgetting about putting his gloves back on.� How he managed to do this is a mystery, but perhaps he was so used to the constant influx of information and emotion from the classroom and the school in general that he did not notice the relatively minor difference his gloves made.� Just as he was halfway out the door, the intercom in his room clicked on.
����������� �Professor ShinRa.�� Dean Reeve�s voice.
����������� �Sir?�
����������� �Oh good, I caught you.� Could you stop by my office before you leave for the day?�
����������� �Not a problem.� I�m on my way.�� And he left the room, closing it behind him and heading down the hallway.� He didn�t bother to get his car, taking his time and walking through the large campus to reach the administration building.� When he found the Dean�s door, he knocked, but stopped before he touched the doorknob upon hearing Reeve call him to enter.� His gloves.� They were on his desk.� Fuck.� Well, it was too late to go back for them now.� He dug his handkerchief back out of his pocket and opened the door with that covering his hand, managing to quickly stuff it away before Reeve turned to him and wanted an explanation.� He had managed to go through his entire college and career experience so far without letting anyone know about his little condition.� He wasn�t about to let anyone tell him he was disabled and put him on some kind of special dysfunctional unemployment program.� Dean Reeve especially was ignorant to his abilities.� He intended to keep it that way.
����������� Reeve smiled to him as he turned towards the door, but Rufus paused as he noticed numerous small boxes stacked on the now bare desk, and on the floor.� Was he packing?
����������� �Professor.� I appreciate you coming.� I�needed to speak to you about something.�
����������� �So I see�what�s happening, Reeve?� Have you been reassigned?�
����������� ��I�ve been fired.� The board has decided that I am too young for a position like this, and therefore I�m untrustworthy.� So they�re bringing in some old fart from Mideel to replace me.� Someone trustworthy.� I guess that means they�ve had time to figure out how much they have to pay him to get him to do whatever they say.�
����������� �Tch.� Reeve, if you want to go against this�"
����������� �No.� Can�t you see I�ve already agreed?� I just thought you�d like to know.� I�m planning to go to Gongaga.� It�s smaller over there, but they have a small area college there.� Perhaps I can start teaching again.� I�ve e-mailed you an address and phone number where I can be reached once I�ve arrived.�
����������� ��All right.� I don�t think it�s particularly right, but if it�s what you�ve decided, then all right.�
����������� �I don�t mean to keep you.� Go on home.� I just wanted to let you know.�
����������� �Right.�� He turned and headed rather angrily towards the door.
����������� �Rufus.�� Reeve stepped out from behind his desk and approached the slightly taller professor, offering his hand.� �I think it may well be awhile before I see you again.�
����������� Rufus mentally panicked.� Shake his hand?� With no glove on?� Hoping Reeve didn�t see his wince of anticipation, he reached out to accept the hand.� A wave washed over him as soon as their skin touched�sadness, regret, anger, and bitterness, all of it from Reeve.� But then something new altogether�guilt.� Guilt, remorse, and pain.� A flow of images rushed at him as well, crowding his mind with visions of bare metal walls, marble floors shining with wax.� Electronic doors slid open with a quiet sound of hydraulics being released, red and green lights illuminating over them to indicate the state of the door.� A room with a large, circular desk, near blackened despite the gleaming metal by the floor-to-ceiling window extending all the way across the back wall to show the night stars.� His view moved closer, around the desk slowly, and to the window, revealing a balcony and a horrible, twisted-looking city of grungy steel beneath.� The view then looked out straight ahead, seemingly towards the horizon, but the focus was on the windowpane�in which his own face was reflected.
����������� All� of this happened within mere moments, of course, and then as soon as it began it was over, and Rufus still had time to gain enough of his senses to shake Reeve�s hand and make a quick exit.� What in the hell was all of that?