Jenova and Sephiroth are not mine.

This was inspired by an offhand comment made by a friend. She dreamed that she was bitten by a zombie but managed not to fall asleep and thus fought off the infection. I went from wondering what it would take to fight of a zombie infection to thinking of 50's B movies to Jenova-as-virus and here we are.

They'd been through it all before.

The cold that was a craft in space, the slow and inevitable desiccation of their strongest host as it set the controls. These times were simply a different part of the cycle, the part during which the older parts of Itself checked over the whole. Minute adjustments were made to mitochondria, DNA was carefully smoothed. And of course, there was slow multiplication and story telling. The telling was important even if there was little to tell. They had known where they came from once. But all they remembered now was that it had been home. A home where they were always fed. A home where travel was a slow pleasure not a hurried necessity.

But those days were gone and the complete memory had been lost long ago during one of these escapes, along with countless mother cells. Daughter cells had become mothers themselves and died longing to return home but not knowing the way or why they had left. But that was alright.

Because they'd been through it all before.

Then came the entry into atmosphere, the heat, the loss of many daughters and mothers and sisters to the rigors of landing. But that was alright wasn't it because weren't daughters and mothers and sisters still there?

Their host was unable to leave the aircraft. No matter. They settled Themselves down to wait. Many daughters and mothers and sisters would shrivel and never be heard from again. Only a few would survive the long dormancy, only a few and likely the youngest of the young. They went deep in now, to where there was still a bit of wet in the meat. None had to be told, the newly separated simply went.

Because even youngest knew that they'd been through it all before.

Light and heat and sound and had it been so long? The call went out and most of the Them responded, almost each and every. A short time then. Vibrations told them that a live creature approached. They raised Their host's eyelids and viewed their next conquest. It spoke again but they took no note of it. Spoken language was entirely superfluous. They were not fed by it and it birthed no daughters. The creature leaned in, as creatures always did. Desiring to examine what was unknown. It was simple to open the host's mouth, and go forward. The creature's eyes widened and for a moment there was a flash of… But They had already committed Themselves. Teeth closed on flesh and the strongest of Themselves leapt into the creature. The river of its blood was almost too good; many inexperienced were nearly swept away. But the disorientation was overcome and They moved confidently through the heart, leaving a small contingent for when the brain had been subverted.

Because they'd been through it all before.

It was more than simple; it was as if the way had been cleared. No defenders menaced them, no alarms were raised. In short order They were in the brain and moving forward…


Each and every clung to the walls. In other rivers they had met Defenders who screamed but not so that any of Them understood it. Defenders were limited and spoke only the language of the home they knew. This voice spoke but not as a daughter. Not as a sister. Only as…

Do not HOPE to ignore me.

One lone was told to go back. The daughters and mothers and sisters in heart must stop the its function. All resistance fell when the power stopped coming.

Ah, I see. You have forgotten much if you ever knew it. Here even children know how to whisper. But what are children after all, without their mother?

Time to force Themselves to speak outwards. Time to tell like and unlike…

Tell me what little strain? You are a collective of millions. I am but one and still I have consumed more than there are of you. I have already brought death to those in his heart.

Unfamiliar. All of it. Everything They knew told them this entire place was not correct. The river was too rich, the walls too slippery, the voice too knowing and using words previously unheard of. The idea of being one… alone and only was... Surely the voice had daughters.

I need no daughters. I have a son.

What was a son? A moment of image flooded them, a picture of the creature in which they were now. Then more was sent, tearing at each and every. A stream of pictures that no daughter or mother or sister understood. Finally, one simple phrase.

My shining future.

Ah. The voice too, sought home. After that they died quickly, knowledgeable if not content.

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