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It had been nearly a year since they'd fled ShinRa, shortly after Sephiroth had turned 13.
He had not thought it something possible. It had never crossed his mind that he would away from there, from the lab, from him, and looking out a grimy window at a patchy field and sunlight. Yet their current hiding place was not in the dim city of Midgar, devoid of life. It wasn't exactly the kind of lush field he had dreamt of, but the woman at his side was very, very real.
She was writing in her journal while he pressed against her side. Her lab coat had been discarded long ago in favour of less conspicuous clothes, and Sephiroth himself was in a set that he was already growing too tall for. Despite it, he didn't think he'd ever been more comfortable.
"Felicity," Sephiroth began, slowly--wishing that he could get the courage to say what he really wanted to.
"Mhm?" Felicity's pen stilled. Her long fingers were delicate and so careful, yet Sephiroth knew exactly what she was capable of. It had all been for him.
"I was wondering, could I--" Sephiroth licked his lips, and felt his nerve fail him. Felicity waited for him to finish, holding still and not pushing him, never pushing him. "Could you show me how to put my hair up? Like you do? It gets in my way."
"It has gotten long," Felicity observed, closing her book and lightly running her fingers through his hair. He wondered if he'd ever get used to the feeling--if he'd ever want to. "I could try to cut it for you, if you'd like."
"No! I--I like it," Sephiroth said. "I want to do something with it, that's all." Felicity rarely let her hair down, but it was as smooth and straight as his own--though the purple dye had faded and her dark roots were showing strong.
"I can do that," Felicity said, her low voice warm with a smile. She closed her journal and urged him to stand.
The little cabin in which they were currently hiding out was thankfully furnished--Felicity guided him to the washroom and gave the aged mirror a cursory wipe--revealing with the sweep of her hand Sephiroth's own face, narrow and sunken with hunger, yet brighter than he'd ever known it before they'd run away. His eyes shone in a way that felt good now.
Felicity started by brushing his hair smooth with her own comb. Sephiroth closed his eyes before remembering that he had meant to pay attention and learn how to do this, himself. He pondered asking Felicity to put his hair back each morning, another opportunity to be close to her and cared for by her. His reflection's cheeks went pink.
Gathering his hair back, Felicity explained what she did as she twisted it, and asked him for one of the elastics on the counter. Sephiroth passed it to her, thinking of how normal this moment would seem to most kids. She thanked him, and wrapped the elastic around his hair, making a bun--almost--like the one she wore. The contrast was obvious when she turned her face to the mirror to see his reaction.
"Just like that," she said.
Cautiously, Sephiroth brought his hand to his head and tried to mask his disappointment. "Oh," he said. "Normally you do yours much--mine seems looser than I expected," he settled on.
"I didn't want to hurt your scalp," Felicity explained.
Something welled up in Sephiroth--he was becoming quite familiar with this feeling. It was like longing. He wanted all of this to be real, and he wasn't sure that he could believe it. She cared about something little like that? He could handle pain, any amount. He would put on a brave face for her--
"Sephiroth," Felicity said, as gentle as her hands had been.
"You don't seem to mind," he said.
Felicity blinked at his reflection. "Are you asking because you want to look like me?"
Sephiroth wanted to hide, but he knew Felicity would never mean him harm. She had saved him. She had held him and told him it was okay to want things, need affection and closeness.
"Is--is it that strange?" Sephiroth asked, voice small. "You're beautiful and I think that maybe if," he lowered his voice to a mumble, "I looked like your son we could hide from them better."
Staring, Felicity's hand absently went to the bridge of her nose--Sephiroth envied it, how strong and fierce she looked. He knew his own features were pretty, but he wanted to look like Felicity. He wanted it so much it almost hurt.
"I thought--maybe I could call you Mother?" It killed him that he'd suggested it right after saying it was all in an attempt to fit in better and avoid ShinRa. "You're so kind to me, you've protected me. Could I?"
"Sephiroth," Felicity pleaded. "I--I don't know if I'm old enough to pass as such, I'm still just 35. I suppose it's not unrealistic, I--"
"Oh."
"It does make sense," she told him. "I just--" she took a deep breath, and turned him around so that she could speak to him, and not just his reflection. "I don't want you to be me. I want you to be you. You should wear your hair in a way that makes you happiest, and feel most like you."
"Felicity," Sephiroth said, feeling like he was going to cry. He wanted it, though. It was making him happy. "I-I'm sorry--"
She touched his arm, lightly, and Sephiroth accepted the unspoken question by hugging her. Her arms wrapped around him and he tried not to feel so alone, even this close to her.
"It's all right," she said, shushing him gently. "You have time. You have time. So much time to make up for what was stolen from you. Can I tell you something?"
"Mhm."
Felicity leaned back and placed her hands on his shoulders. To his surprise, her own cheeks were wet with tears. Sephiroth had never seen that before. His stomach dropped at the thought of having been the cause.
"My own mother wanted me to look like her, to wear my hair like she did. She hated that I'd gotten my father's nose and straight hair. She tried to control me, shape me into the kind of person she thought best. Do you know how I finally freed myself from thinking I needed her?"
Sephiroth shook his head. His heart went out to her. The things she was telling him were painfully familiar.
"I was transferred to observe the progress of Project S' interaction with Materia. And I saw you," she said. The mention of what he'd been to ShinRa was something that always made him feel stiff with anxiety, but Felicity always spoke as though he were separate from Project S. He was Sephiroth, and always had been. "And I wanted to keep you from being controlled anymore. You are your own person, Sephiroth, and you always will be--mother or no."
"Felicity, I--you're my family now," he said.
"And you are mine," she told him. She sighed. "If you wish--of course you can call me Mother. But promise me that you will remember this."
"I'll try," Sephiroth said. "I will." He trusted Felicity completely. She had risked everything for him and given up all that she had, to live on the run and keep him safe. But if she wanted him to think about this, then he would do his best, for her.
"Good," Felicity said. "Let's undo this hair and you can try to put it up yourself."
Sephiroth hugged her again. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you, Mother."
She squeezed him, and the warmth and closeness made his heart feel like it could burst. "Anything for you, my Sweetheart," she breathed.