What if things could be different

Kinda an AU What If fic, ^_^ no couplings will be favored in this fic, just straight out story of what things would be different if ONE major thing was changed.


Birth of the Project

White light shone down upon the woman in labor as the lone man hustled to get everything ready for the arrival of the child. He went about his business with a slight smirk twisting his thin lips beneath his dark mustache. Perched upon his hawk-like nose his glasses reflected the sharp light in the room as he went about his business, oblivious of the woman's moans of pain and fear. Behind those glasses were somewhat beady dark eyes filled with excitement for what was to come.

Strapped firmly to the table was a fellow scientist, her name was Lucrecia. She had been stripped of her clothes, her swollen stomach lain bare to the chilly air in the basement of the large house. The ropes tying her to the table were digging into her tender flesh and leaving red marks. One rope was wound around one wrist, over her chest and onto the other wrist, both wrists tied to the legs of the table. Another rope was strung in the same way over her legs and ankles.

Lucrecia's gentle face was red from the strain and her hair had gotten unbound from it's usual ponytail, flowing in a tangled mess off the table and almost to the dirt floor. "Why?!" she sobbed, clenching her fists tightly, unable to move them, "Why are you doing this?! You don't have to tie me down like this!"

"A sterile environment is needed," the man replied as he pulled his stand with a trey of surgery equipment set out on it over to beside the table.

"But-" Lucrecia stared in horror as he lifted a scalpel, the light from above reflected off the blade. "You don't have to cut it out!" she shrieked in protest.

He leered at her, "But I want to," he stated with a chillingly coy voice. The bottles set on the shelves surrounding the table reflected the grim scene. "Besides, there's less risk of complications to the child if I do it this way."

"What about ME?!" Lucrecia's tears streamed from the corners of her eyes and into her hair, she'd lost her glasses somewhere but the feeling in her stomach told her that she wasn't likely to ever need them again where she was going.

Hojo turned his cold gaze upon her, "Quit whining," he stated firmly.

"I thought you loved me!" she screamed as he brought the scalpel to her flesh and mercilessly tore into her. Her screams of pain deafened Hojo as he tried to hold her still with one hand and keep his cut steady and sure. He paid no heed to Lucrecia's pain, for he couldn't care any less.

Finally, he pulled forth the writhing creature that had been housed within Lucrecia for nine months and grinned. Suddenly, his grin fell as he stared at the child hanging from his hand by it's foot. "It's-" he gaped, "It's FEMALE!" he shouted at Lucrecia who was still whimpering in pain, her voice having given out, breathing bringing too much pain for her. Lashing out in rage, he slammed the scalpel into her throat. Her eyes shot wide and blood gurgled from her lips as her pupils shrank to pinpoints. Hojo, unsatisfied with only one stab, ripped loose the scalpel viscously and slammed it into Lucrecia's breast. "Damn woman! You can't do anything right!"

The last blow shattered through her ribcage and sliced the frantically pumping muscle of her heart. In seconds her heart had shredded itself to pieces on the blade and ceased to function. Blood dripped down the side of the table and to the floor, soaking into the dirt and once the ground had taken all that it could it began to pool.

Hojo turned his attention to the child hanging from his other hand, "Damn it all! I can't just let all that work go to waste." Lifting the child up, he inspected it's bloody body closely. "I suppose I could MAKE it male..." he stated, "But even I have to admit that something like that is beyond my abilities. No. You will be my son in mind if not body." Hojo smirked and set about cleaning the infant before it caught cold and died.

The cold dusty pages of books were witness to the birth and murder, the table a sad altar for the sacrifice of a young woman who only wanted fame. Lucrecia's eyes stared up at the ceiling, a tear hovering on the edge of her dark lashes for the child she never got to hold. Her life ended too soon. Her body cooled and the bonds holding her together began to break apart. Hojo turned and cleaned his offspring with frigid water in a bucket that he'd laboriously brought down from the house above. The child screamed in protest, thrashing her stubby arms and legs.

"You will be known as Sephiroth," Hojo told the girl, "and you will be my son."