Again, Genesis's voice cuts through the noise, the chaos in his mind - the need that seized him. Genesis pulls him back from the window, turns him, takes Sephiroth's face in his hands. His gloves brush Sephiroth's skin, the leather warm with the heat of his hands. Look at me! he commands, as at the reactor, and Sephiroth has to. His words wash that feeling away, that compulsion that seized Sephiroth so intensely again.

(Eyes of yearning... Right now, Genesis would see the yearning in those eyes, that terrible need. Like a terrified chocobo, bolting, seeking its herdmates, seeking its master. When Sephiroth's eyes were torn from Mt. Nibel in the distance, that need, those reins flew free for a moment. And now Genesis holds them in his hands.)

What was he doing? His search for his mother - the thing that had driven him all his life - has just had a breakthrough, a revelation! Whether he was tampered with in her womb didn't matter - he was still carried there, wasn't he? Sephiroth reaches up and grips Genesis's wrists where they cradle his face.

"We..." Both products - products - of Shinra. Their fates are one. "We have been robbed of our birthright." The right of a child to know his parents. To know his blood. "All this - all this, because Shinra wanted an Ancient. "Hojo, Hollander, Shinra - they wanted monsters, didn't they?" His breathing is harsh. He stares into Genesis as though he had never seen him before. "I think we should show them the fruits of their labor."