Toki Baby

Rating: R
Category: AU, Crossover
Pairing(s): Toki/Sephiroth
Warnings: Crossover.
Summary: Toki finds an unlikely ally.
Notes: This is ftw302's fic request of Sephiroth and Toki. Here it is, hon. I really hope it’s what you wanted.

Considering that ‘Toki’ is not a Norwegian name, it is a Japanese ibis and apparently means ‘rabbit’ in Korean, I’m assuming it is a nickname, just as I am assuming Pickles’ name is not actually Pickles the Drummer.… and if it is perhaps that offers some insight into why Seth is insane. Anyway I gave Toki a Norwegian name for purposes of comedy.

This is technically a song fic. The song I used is ‘Angie Baby’ by Helen Reddy.

You live your life in the songs you hear
On the rock and roll radio.
And when a young girl doesn't have any friends
That's a really nice place to go.
Folks hoping you'd turn out cool,
But they had to take you outta school.
“You're a little bit touched you know, Angie Baby.”

Lovers appear in your room each night
And they whirl you across the floor.
But they always seem to fade away
When your daddy taps on your door.
“Angie baby, are you all right?
Tell the radio good night.”
All alone once more, Angie Baby

Angie Baby, you're a special lady,
Living in a world of make-believe.
Well, maybe…

Stopping at her house is a neighbour boy
With evil on his mind.
'Cause he's been peeking in Angie's room
At night through her window blind.
“I see your folks have gone away.
Would you dance with me today?
I'll show you how to have a good time, Angie Baby.”

When he walks in her room,
He feels confused like he's walked into a play.
And the music's so loud it spins him around
'Til his soul has lost its way.
And as she turns the volume down,
He's getting smaller with the sound.
It seems to pull him off the ground,
Toward the radio he's bound,
never to be found…

The headlines read that a boy disappeared
and everyone thinks he died.
'Cept a crazy girl with a secret lover,
Who keeps her satisfied.
It's so nice to be insane.
No one asks you to explain.
Radio by your side, Angie Baby.

Angie Baby, you're a special lady,
Living in a world of make-believe.
Well, maybe…
-- ‘Angie Baby’, by Helen Reddy

“But will he be okay?”

The psychiatrist shook his head as he reached for his jacket. “Look, Mr. Ofdensen, Toki has had a break down. On top of it, he has a long history of dealing with trauma by blocking it out. He’s recently been attacked by an armed assassin who had every intention of killing him, and now right on the heels of that event, which would be enough to send most people scurrying for safety, he’s got a stalker to deal with. This man has breached all your security and shown up in his room twice. Toki has shut down. He’s dealing the only way he knows how to, by hiding. I’ll be back in a week to see him again. For now however just leave him be. He’s trying to rebuild his sense of personal space.”

“’Shcuse me,” said Murderface. “It kinda looksh to me like he’sh playing video gamesh and talking to himshelf.”

Dr. Katz shot him a look. “Mr. Murderface, reality has become an upsetting place for Toki right now. Video games are safer. They’re certainly more easily controlled.” He then shifted his gaze to Skwisgaar. Dr. Katz had not reached his status as an internationally renowned psychiatrist by not being able to read people. Skwisgaar could pretend he didn’t care about Toki’s health all he liked; he wasn’t fooling Katz for a second.

“He will be fine,” he said.

Skwisgaar tossed his head and snorted with disdain. “I don’ts care. Let him stay crazy.”

Dr. Katz smiled faintly, then left Mordhaus. Charles watched as Pickles, Nathan, Murderface and Skwisgaar stared at the closed door of Toki’s new bed chamber like four little boys whose friend can’t come out to play.

“He’ll be all right,” he said quietly, but the words sounded hollow to him.

Pickles gave Charles a mournful look, then sighed. Slowly they wandered away one by one, until only Skwisgaar was left. After a few more minutes, he too left, going to his room to relentlessly play his guitar.

***---***

Toki stared delightedly at the seven foot man with the enormous blade slung across his back, his long white hair flowing like mercury. Sephiroth seemed more puzzled than annoyed; a moment ago he was play-fighting with Genesis on the Junon cannon, now he was in the bedroom of some gleeful man-child while Genesis and Angeal looked around in confusion, trying to find their companion.

“Oh boy! Is worked!”

Sephiroth was quietly blunt. “Where the fuck am I?”

“In my room!” said Toki. He showed the beautiful man an ancient tome. “See? I gots Finnish book of mecros-nancy. Is gots all kinds of spells in it! I summons you outs of da game!”

Sephiroth arched one eyebrow slightly, then turned to look at Angeal and Genesis on the TV screen, hunting all over the cannon for him.

“I wish I could say this is the strangest thing that’s happened to me, but sadly it isn’t.” He turned to look at Toki. “So why did you call me?”

“I wants you to teach me how to fight.”

Sephiroth’s other eyebrow went up. “I beg your pardon?”

“I needs to know how to takes care of myself.”

“Let me get this straight. You used a book of spells to summon me out of my world and into your so I could teach you to fight?”

“Ja.”

“Huh. Normally when that happens it’s for sex.”

Toki blinked in surprise. “I didn’ts know dat was an option.”

Sephiroth smiled faintly and looked around the room, surveying his surroundings. “So you wish to fight. Why?”

Toki shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. “Peoples want to hurt me. Want to hurt my friends. Just want to be safe.”

“And these stone walls do not help?”

“No. Dey keeps getting breached.”

“By whom?”

“Crazy man wit’ long brown hair an’ dirtys jeans jacket. He’s crazy! He says I writes songs to him, tell him I loves him, send secrets codes only he can hear. I don’ts know whats to do!”

Sephiroth coolly studied a carefully constructed model aircraft. “So rather than curl up and die, you choose to fight back. I’m impressed.”

“Can you help me?”

There was a knock at the door, and Toki shook his head, suddenly finding himself sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding a portable game station. He wasn’t in his room with the airplanes and the model of the planets hanging from the ceiling and his desk with the magnifying glass. He was in one of the guest rooms in Charles’ private quarters. He had no idea how he came to be there. Wasn’t he just back in his room, talking to Sephiroth? Toki looked around, but the warrior was not there. Then he felt a gentle hand on his head, and he turned to find himself gazing into a pair of concerned brown eyes screened by fine-rimmed glasses.

“Toki? Baby, are you all right?” Charles gently took hold of the game. “C’mon, tell the video goodnight.”

Toki let Charles help him get ready for bed. Soon he was tucked in, settled deep beneath down comforters, his breathing deep and even. Anything that wanted to get to Toki would have to get by Charles, and, even in his current state, Toki knew Charles would never let that happen.

***---***

“You’re doing rather well.”

Toki was bloody and bruised and annoyed. The soft sea breeze toyed with his hair, the sun warming his back as he stood on the great cannon. In the background Genesis and Angeal lurked, amused by their friend and his unlikely pupil.

“How is gettings my ass kicks doing well?”

Sephiroth permitted himself a little smile. “You’ve a natural talent.”

“Fats lot of good is doing me.” Toki lunged in with his sword, Sephiroth blocking it. “See? I can’ts even score one hit!”

“You just need motivation.”

“You don’ts t’ink crazy stalker-man is motivation?” Toki lunged again, and once more Sephiroth blocked his blade.

“Perhaps you just me to dangle you a carrot. Or in your case, a popsicle.”

“Popsicles is good. Dey don’ts dangle well though. String just passes t’rough once dey starts to get mushy.”

Toki and Sephiroth continued their dance, Sephiroth silence and graceful, Toki slower and more clumsy.

“I don’t think I want to know why you were dangling popsicles on a string.”

“Good because I can’ts tell you why we was doing it.”

“Too obscene?”

“Too drunk.”

Sephiroth laughed softly. “Well, how about this. If you can tag me once with your blade… you can have me.”

Toki stopped, his sword slowly lowering, blinking in confusion. “Have..? Is dat… meaning whats I t’ink is meaning?”

Sephiroth smiled coldly, and made a beckoning gesture with his right hand, sword in his left.

“Come get me.”

Toki didn’t think he could get anywhere near Sephiroth, but… one look at that white throat and the open front of the long black leather coat that drew his eyes down to the broad strong chest…. Oh yeah. He had to try.

Toki lunged in. He could actually use a sword, though not with the same level of skill as Sephiroth, and he preferred the English two-handed style to the lighter katana. But he could fight, and he did so now to the utmost of his ability. The blades rang out as they met, and they whirled across the barrel of the gigantic cannon, hair flying, blades clashing, lunging and thrusting and parrying. Sephiroth was faster and stronger, but with every deflected blow Toki became just that much more determined to land his strike. The cannon barrel was not really large enough for this sort of activity, maybe if he could just corner him…

“DIDRIK NIKOLAI WARTOOTH WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO MY GUEST CHAMBER?!”

Sephiroth turned to face the man who was shouting, distracted. Toki seized his chance and touched him with the point of his blade. Sephiroth cast him a sidelong glance and smiled, then seemed to turn to mist and vanished. Once more Toki was in Charles’ guest room, alone and armed only with a fireplace poker. He looked around, confused, but did nothing as Charles walked up and gently took the poker away.

“There’s nothing here, Toki,” he said quietly. “Nothing to be afraid of. Come on, time for bed, okay?”

Toki looked around in confusion, wondering how he ended up back in the guest room, and where Sephiroth had gone, but let Charles help him get ready for bed without complaint. Nathan came in for a little while to try to talk to him, but Toki wasn’t ready to talk yet. He couldn’t talk yet. Talking was for when things were safe, and he wasn’t safe. Skwisgaar came in briefly as well, but he seemed really upset for some reason. Toki couldn’t worry about that now. He was tired, and he didn’t react when Skwisgaar hugged him gently. Quiet and compliant, he let himself be put in bed, and lay there as the others slowly left.

He was about to close his eyes when he felt the bed shift, and he raised his head to see a elegant being of purest white slipping beneath the covers beside him. Sephiroth was naked, and he lay down on his side, long white hair falling across the covers, his beautiful face coming to rest on the dark blue pillow case. He gave Toki that same cold, strange little smile, the green eyes inviting, then, as Toki raised his head to give him a puzzled look, Sephiroth rolled slowly onto his back, drawing up one long leg.

Toki might have been painfully naïve, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. He moved close to the mercurial beauty, gazing down at him as he took him into his arms.

“You sure you don’ts want a rematch?” said Toki. “You was kinda distrak-sted.”

Sephiroth slid his arms around Toki’s neck. “Why would I want a rematch? You might not win.”

“Dat’s a good point.”

Toki lowered his head to kiss him, running his strong, well-defined hands over Sephiroth’s lean body. He let his fingers wander slowly, touching the hard muscles, the soft white skin, finding and exploring each dip and curve. He kissed his throat, not wondering at Sephiroth’s submissiveness; in fact he rather liked it. Toki investigated the beautiful body beneath him, nibbling, kissing, tasting, allowing his tongue to follow the well defined line of flesh that led down the flat stomach like an arrow, bringing him to a large erect penis, swallowing the entire length. He felt Sephiroth’s body jerk, his long hands coming down to tangle into his hair. Sephiroth uttered a soft, breathy sound, then a quiet cry, thrusting slowly into the wet heat.

Toki licked and sucked the large member, letting his teeth scrape ever so lightly over the delicate skin, then, unable to delay his own desires any longer, moved over top of Sephiroth, taking him abruptly, without preparation. It just didn’t seem necessary, and the cry of pure passion implied Sephiroth didn’t mind. Toki thrust forcefully into the pale body, slow, hard and deep, biting and kissing as Sephiroth’s hands tangled into his brown hair, hearing soft words of passion whispered into his ear. They writhed on the silk sheets like strange animals, crying and gasping, their ardour rising until Toki cried out, biting hard into the white flesh and he shuddered, spending himself deep inside Sephiroth. He felt Sephiroth’s penis, trapped beneath the warm skin of his stomach, shudder and throb, spilling hot liquid over their joined bodies. There was a long, intense silence, broken only by quiet gasps, and then Toki slid off Sephiroth, spent and exhausted. He lay on his back, eyes closed, waiting for his breathing to steady.

“Wish I smoked,” said Toki.

Sephiroth laughed softly, his eyes closed, long hands lying folded on the covers.

“He’s coming, you know.”

Toki nodded. “I know. I knew he would. But… I don’t t’ink I’s ready to face him.”

“You’re not. But you needn’t worry about him. You have me.”

Toki rolled towards Sephiroth, resting his head on his chest. “You making him leaves me alone?”

Sephiroth uttered that quiet little almost-laugh. “He’ll be gone by morning.”

“Okay. I trust you.”

Toki felt Sephiroth gently kiss his brow, and smiled, snuggling close, feeling warm and secure, even as he heard the sound of the window being eased open, and the quiet tread of someone stealthily entering the room. He was not even afraid as he felt Sephiroth’s strong body vanish silently from beneath him. Toki lay on his stomach, half asleep, his back to the man who now approached, knife in one hand, rope in the other. He sighed quietly, and nestled deeper into the soft mattress, not reacting as he felt a strange hand on his hair.

***---***

“Eggs,” said Nathan morosely, staring at his plate. “I hate eggs. God they make me sick. I mean look at them. Like… curdled embryos, all shiny and gluey and... why would anybody eat these?”

He poked at the beautifully done Eggs Benedict before him, then glanced at Pickles, who was already licking his plate clean.

“Did you even taste that?” asked Nathan.

Pickles ignored him, continuing to lick. Nathan shoved his plate towards him, and Pickles gleefully pounced on it. Nathan, Murderface and Skwisgaar watched him eat.

“Typical farm boy,” said Nathan. “They’ll eat anything.”

Pickles showed him his middle finger. Nathan let his gaze shift to Skwisgaar, who seemed to be sorting his breakfast rather than eating it. Skwisgaar hadn’t really eaten much of anything since Toki had his breakdown, and his slim, willowy body was rapidly becoming scrawny and bony. His deep-set eyes were now simply sunken, and his high cheek bones had become almost grotesque. Nathan wanted to comfort him, but that wasn’t exactly his strong point, and Skwisgaar was strange when it came to Toki.

Frankly Nathan just wished they would get over themselves and fuck.

The door to the dining area was shoved open, and something bounded in, long hair askew, dressed in a t-shirt, black jeans, and a pair of blue converse basketball sneakers, laces untied.

“Oh boy, is Eggs Bunny-sick! I loves dose!”

Skwisgaar’s head shot up, Pickles stopped gorging himself, and Nathan knocked his chair over as he abruptly stood up.

“Toki?” he said.

“Hi Nat’an.”

Pickles forced himself to swallow, then said “Dood you’re talking!”

Toki seated himself and began eating the eggs that had been left out for Charles. “I can talks.”

“But… you haven’t said a word in over two weeks!”

“Oh I’s overs dat,” said Toki, “I gots lonely. Missed you guys.”

“Why?” asked Murderface.

Toki shrugged and ate Charles’ breakfast, then bounced off, heading for his room to check on his models, leaving just in time for Charles to come in and find a ravaged plate of toast remnants and a few smears of Hollandaise sauce. He raised his plate and looked at it.

“Pickles…”

“Wasn’t me this time!” he said. “It was Toki. He’s up, did you see?”

“No, I didn’t. He’s… up?”

“Yeah!” said Nathan. “Up, talking, eating…”

Charles was confused. “But just last night, he was barely functional. And he’s…?”

“Oh boy! My new specials-order jet come in! I been waiting months for dis!”

“See?” said Nathan. “Like nothing happened. Like the breakdown never occurred.”

“Like that freak isn’t still out there stalking him,” said Pickles.

“Kinda makesh ya wonder,” said Murderface.

“Wonders what?” asked Skwisgaar.

Murderface’s cold green eyes watched Toki as he pounced on some poor roadie in the hallway to get him to take him into town to the hobby shop for new paints. Toki knew he wasn’t supposed to interact with the roadies, but that didn’t seem to stop either of them from getting into a good-natured tussle.

“Makesh ya wonder what he knowsh that we don’t.”

***---***

“Pickles,” said Charles, blearily rubbing his eyes. “Why are you waking me up at a quarter to four in the morning?”

Pickles was laying out a small collection of PSP game systems on Charles’ bed as the lawyer struggled into a seated position, hunting for his glasses.

“Because you have to see this.”

“I had no idea you were so fond of video games.”

Pickles gave him a sidelong look. “Will you please just look at this? I need you to see this.”

“Why me specifically?”

“Because I’m drunk and Knubbler’s high and Nathan, Skwisgaar and Murderface are a combination of the above.”

“So you… require someone with a functioning brain.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Charles found his glasses and put them on. “Okay, so what am I looking at?”

Pickles held up one of the little portable game players. “Toki, Nathan and I all have a copy of the game Crisis Core. This one is mine. Now watch the fight sequence.”

Charles took the small device and watched as Genesis, Sephiroth and Angeal made a mess of the Junon cannon.

“Well the graphics are lovely.”

Pickles took the play station and laid it aside. “Now this is Nathan’s. Same fight scene.”

Once more Charles watched the fight sequence. “It’s the same battle.”

“Right. Now the third.” He held it up. “This one is Toki’s.”

Charles sighed but took the small device. “It’s the same…” Then he fell silent. It was not the same fight. It began the same, but partway through it Sephiroth vanished, and his two companions looked around, puzzled. Moments later he reappeared, along with a man who had long dark hair, thin, straggly beard, and wearing a tattered denim jacket. The three warriors then proceeded to tear him to bits.

“So you see it too,” said Pickles. “It’s not just a case of me being drunk.”

Charles just stared in astonishment. “I do see it, but… is that the man that was bothering Toki?”

“Sure looks like him.”

“But… how..?”

Charles looked towards Pickles, both reading the same question in each other’s eyes. In the hallway they heard Toki rough-housing with Nathan. There was giggling and crashing and the usual sounds associated with large males shoving each other around. It was a happy noise. Toki was once more playful and interactive, rather than hiding away in his room, which was odd considering his stalker still had not been caught.

So what did Toki know that they didn’t?

Charles let his gaze drift back to the play station. In the hallway, Toki was attempting to push Nathan towards the kitchen, and clearly not succeeding.

“Nat’an!” he wailed plaintively, laughing. “C’mon! You promised! Move!”

“Just keep shoving, we’ll get there.”

There was the sound of blue converse sneakers scrabbling against stone, and laughter.

“Leave the game with me,” said Charles. “I’ll get rid of it. Tomorrow we’ll replace it.”

Pickles nodded, looking shaken. “Okay. But… what did he do to that man?”

“I don’t know. But we can’t let anyone find this. If he turns up dead some place this could be used as evidence against Toki.”

Pickles nodded. Saying nothing further, he took the other two games and left, while Charles got up to pour himself a glass of brandy to steady his nerves, leaving the game on the bed. He crossed the floor to the small table where he kept a bottle of brandy and a few glasses, and poured himself some of the clear golden fluid. He capped the bottle, and turned back to the bed, stopping short, feeling his body become cold.

The game was gone. In its place was a piece of paper, covered in flowing script.

For a very long time, Charles did not move.