Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zack’s breathing was getting more ragged the longer he stood in the cold.  His breath made a hollow sound as it entered and escaped his lungs in haggard, painful breaths.  He stood above the radioactive pool of mako in the dormant Nibelheim reactor and swallowed hard. The pain in his chest tore at his core.  That pain had been chipping away at the SOLDIER he once was for over one year now. Gone was the delightful, boyish ShinRa academy graduate.  In his place stood a frigid ghost of a First class SOLDIER. He was alive, if this could be considered living.  

Zack’s body, though strong, was gnarled in places he didn’t like to think of. His skin was webbed all over with scar tissue and rotten red and black holes.  A black pus that smelled of rotting corpse accompanied each wound. Zack was covered in too many holes to count. His hair, once a source of pride for him, had become neglected.  It was now past his waist, a tangle of thick, but lanky spikes that were past redemption. He wore a black coat to cover the injuries on his chest and arms. His hands were the only signal to outsiders that he was more than he said he was.  His palms were calloused, his knuckles raw, and the webbing of scars didn’t stop at his wrists. His hands had been pierced with bullets too--splatters of scarring exploded over his palm where the bullets had exited.

His blue eyes were dim, nearly a soft grey-purple color instead of the mako-charged cerulean he’d become so fond of as a teenager.  The dull eyes were rimmed with dark red and indigo circles. He hadn’t slept in days.

“I know you can hear me,” Zack said.  His voice cut bitterly through the silence like a knife.  His tone was hard. It was hurting, angry, and dark.

His footsteps clanked on the metal railways as he turned to face the broken railing that had been damaged by a falling body that had been pushed through it.  

“You’re too smart to make a mistake like this.”  Zack’s hand lifted to the metal carnage of Jenova’s containment chamber. He was talking to an entity that was no longer there in the flesh, much less the room. Zack could recall the buzz of energy that the cold containment chamber had made on the day that Sephiroth had ripped it apart.  

Dull blue eyes softened.  The ex-SOLDIER’s mouth turned downward.  He swallowed. Zack’s voice was softer the second time.  

“You don’t make mistakes.”

He got on his haunches, and spoke directly into the glowing pool of mako below.  Past the tubes, past the broken wiring, there was a soft blue-green glow.  

“I know it’s you!" He accused. "You’re doing all of this and--”  Zack swept a lock of hair out of his eyes. He had expected to feel angry at this moment.  He had walked into the reactor feeling angry. He had crossed the continent feeling angry. His anger had moved him forward.  He had held onto it as one does to a lifeline. He had let it eat at him for months when he’d realized the source of his pain.  Zack had come all this way to confront Him about this and suddenly--

Zack sat.  He brought his feet to dangle over the ledge of the pathway.  Years ago, Cloud had thrown Sephiroth from this very spot. Now, Zack was lounging over it as a boy would sit on a pier.  

“Why would you try to kill us?” Zack’s chest ached from both the heartbreak and the disease.  He didn’t understand!

“You loved SOLDIER.”  The betrayal rang through his system. “...We’re supposed to protect people.”

At the pang of sadness, Zack felt something lurch inside his body.  He gagged at the sour taste in his mouth as the grainy, dry bile rose in his throat.  He rolled his eyes. Annoyance burned inside him as the taste ran over his tongue. Whenever Zack got upset, the Geostigma would storm in his body.  Zack coughed the inky pus up into his hands. It felt like wet sawdust between his fingertips.  

“Dammit, Sephiroth!” He banged his hand down on the metal walkway.  The sound echoed off the cold metal walls of the reactor.  

“You can’t just--” Zack cut himself off.  What was it? Sephiroth couldn’t kill people?  Sephiroth couldn’t leave him behind? Sephiroth couldn’t murder kids and innocents and--

Sephiroth shouldn’t have been trying to kill his own men.

The dull ache of this reality made Zack not only want to hate Sephiroth, but it made him want to hate himself for trying to negotiate with him, too. Zack rubbed his hand through his hair, the warm black slime that the Geostigma had left behind smeared against his scalp.  His stomach lurched after realizing what he’d done. Ah fuck.  That’s gross.

He wiped his hand off on his pants.  

“Come on!”  He shouted into the silence. His voice echoed so loudly, Zack put his hand over his mouth.  The black from his palm smeared against his cheek. “Why are you doing this?” He said, softer.

Maybe what was so damn awful about the whole thing was that Sephiroth had never used him for support.  Ever. If he had, maybe Nibelheim would be full of its original citizens. Maybe Zack wouldn’t have been so sick.  Hell, maybe if Sephiroth had asked for some sort of support from him, him the plate wouldn’t have collapsed! Sephiroth would have saved them all.  Sephiroth would have fixed Midgar’s problems and then some.

...because that’s who Sephiroth was!  Sephiroth was a hero!  He wasn't this.

Zack looked up at the broken railing over his head.

No.  This wasn’t Sephiroth. 

Sephiroth, who had passed mental health test after mental health test.  Sephiroth, who could mathematically solve any equation at the drop of a hat. Sephiroth, who had learned and could repeat every method of strategy any military officer had used in ShinRa’s and Wutai’s history by age twelve.   Their General did not make errors. Sephiroth would not have died this easily.

He had to have fallen into the Lifestream on purpose.

But why? 

Zack’s hands knotted into his hair.  The chaos of dirty black spikes fluffed in between the splay of fingers.  Zack was shaking. The cold was settling into his bones.

“Can’t you--?”  Depend on me more?  Zack was afraid to say it.  Hadn’t Sephiroth been the man to cause all of this disease in his body?

He closed his eyes. 

He didn’t know what he wanted!

He didn’t want to die!  That’s what he wanted. “Can’t you explain?”  Zack begged. “Sephiroth, I’m listening. I want to listen!  Let me listen.” He could feel his heart squeeze at the childish request.  He might as well have been talking to a wall. Was he really so desperate to have come here?

How childish.

Though weakened, Zack was still a mako-enhanced SOLDIER.  He heard the soft footfalls of another presence in the reactor.  He looked down into the mako pool and scrambled on to his feet. At first, it was just the one.  The footsteps were light, but quick. They were coming his way!

Instinctively, Zack’s brain told him to prepare to fight.  Nobody ran toward Jenova’s chamber that quickly unless they were meant to be a threat.  Sephiroth hadn’t even ran the first time. Within moments, the other person had shot through the open entryway into the chamber.  Habitually, he reached for his sword to protect himself and found himself empty handed.  Right. He didn’t carry a weapon anymore.

Zack's stance changed.  With his straight posture lowered, he would put his weight onto his front leg and charge his attacker.  Zack would easily be able to throw his mass right into the other’s gut and send him flying.

Zack stopped cold when he saw who it was standing there.  The person had a shock of silver hair and piercing, electric mako green eyes.  

“Sephiroth?”  Zack asked quietly.  With two people occupying the space, the chamber didn’t echo quite as much. 

The boy’s face had a variety of expressions as he took in Zack.  Green eyes widened with curiosity, then his lips tugged down with contempt, then they tugged up with intrigue--a dangerous kind of playfulness as Zack found himself being assessed by--

--A teenager.

“You’re a kid,” he said, stating the obvious.

On the comment, the kid pulled a double-bladed sword from his back. The boy was--

Zack felt the warm metal press against his neck.  It didn’t draw blood, although the blades were dangerously beneath the bone of his jawline.

--a lot quicker than Zack had expected.  

An odd sense of delight rose in the ex-SOLDIER’s stomach and shot straight to his brain.  This wasn’t Sephiroth at all. But in ways, this child was Sephiroth fully. He tried not to smile.  This kid could kill him.  

Yet, it felt like Sephiroth was giving him an answer that Zack had been looking for.

Zack didn’t take a step away from the sword, but he raised his hands slowly in surrender.  The boy’s eyes widened with interest. He pushed the blades of the sword a little harder into Zack’s neck to see what he would do.  Zack was bleeding. He didn’t move.

“Hm.”  The boy smirked in that unreadable way that Sephiroth always had when he’d discovered something amusing.  The boy moved the sword back, balancing Zack’s chin on the flat of his blade. He used it to shift the raven-haired man’s face from right to left.  Zack watched the boy’s green eyes wander to the scar on his cheek. “Not bad,” he said, finishing his assessment. 

Another person came through the chamber doors.  Zack didn’t dare move his head, but he looked with his eyes at the burly silver-haired man with shoulders so wide that Zack could only imagine him wielding the Buster Sword. This man looked like the perfect mesh of Sephiroth and Angeal into one person.  

Seeing both men in one person made his heart want to rip apart.

“What do you want with Mother?” he asked, the scent of ozone filled the air as he raised his crackling Dual Hound with his fist.

“Loz, that’s no way to greet our big brother,” the younger brother purred.  He lowered his blade. It was still pointed to Zack’s chest, lazily hovering over the other ex-SOLDIER’s heart.

Loz lowered his weapon and tipped his head in Zack’s direction. He turned to ask a question of someone just outside the entryway.  “Yazoo, isn’t our big brother smaller?”

“Our big brother has Mother’s traits.”  A poetic voice came from outside of the chamber.  Yazoo’s tone was suited for the stage, as he could speak softly but still be heard by the other three men with ease.  He was easily the prettiest of the three. “A waste, don’t you think Kadaj?”

“Maybe,” said Kadaj, grinning.  His eyes brightened. “On your knees.”

Something flared in Zack--it was a need to be contrary.  He had wanted to yell, to fight, or to disagree but--

Something inside told him to obey.  He fearlessly did so and showed some loyalty to the boy.  Zack sunk to the ground, dropping on command.  Kadaj’s sword followed his chin downward. Then, Kadaj turned to his brothers.   The three remnants acted as one, each smiling that with that secret smirk of amusement that only belonged to Sephiroth.

“You’re really something else, huh?”  Kadaj said. His voice was delighted. Laughter hid in his tone.  “Aren’t you going to stop us? The other one did.”

Zack looked up and confirmed what the remnants already knew; “I’m not trying to stop you,” Zack said.  “I’m here to join you.” It was only a partial lie. He hadn’t known about the three silver-haired remnants until minutes ago.  Zack lifted his hand for Kadaj. His fingers were outstretched. “Isn’t that what brothers do?”

“You’re different from him.”  The boy returned the sword to his back with a flourish.  It was efficient and graceful. Kadaj’s fingers locked around Zack’s arm and Zack locked his fingers around the remnant’s.  With hardly any effort, the boy pulled Zack to his feet.  

“Do you think we’ll save you if you’re obedient?” Yazoo asked sleepily.  

Kadaj laughed.  It was a sharp and dangerous sound.  “If that’s the case…”

“You will rot,” Yazoo finished.  The comment was scarier coming from this remnant than any of the others.

Zack tucked his hand into the hair at the nape of his neck.  His fingers toyed with one of the knots. “Well, uh.” He cleared his throat.  Well, it would be a lie to say that he hadn’t hoped he could survive this disease.  But-- “I figured if I’m going to die anyway, I would like to know why.”

Loz nodded.  “Help us with our Reunion and He’ll tell you himself.”

“Reunion?”  Zack asked.  

Kadaj hummed.  “It looks like you’ve got a decent grasp on it yourself, brother.”    

To the comment, Zack nodded.  There was a glaze on his expression.  He was lying with false confidence. “Sure, okay.”

Kadaj laughed.  “I knew Zack Fair was a lucky idiot, but now I can see it with my own eyes.”

“Excuse me?”  

Kadaj's eyes softened, and his voice got low as if he were trying to begin to explain something to a child much younger than him, rather than a man significantly older.  “You really don’t know do you?”

Zack shook his head.  

“Poor brother,” Loz sighed.  Each of the brothers looked at Zack with a sense of pity for a moment.  Then, the largest of Sephiroth’s remnants lifted his hand. He pointed toward the chamber ahead. “You won’t find Mother there,” he admitted.  The spikes on his weapon detracted. “She’s been moved.”

“I was looking for--” Zack began.

“We know,” Yazoo said, cutting him off.  He was the first to turn to exit. “But He seeks Mother to become whole again.”  He turned to face Zack as he went through the doorway. “If she were still here, don’t you think He would have come to you instead?”

“Sephiroth sent you?”  Zack asked. The three remnants were silent as they each turned away from him.  There was a silent expectation that Zack should follow. He felt it. His feet moved of their own accord.

Finally, Loz spoke.  “You were hurt and asked for help.”

Zack tipped his head toward Kadaj. There was part of a smile in his expression. Nervous, but warm.  “He tried to stab me, though.”

Kadaj grinned and placed his hand on the small of Zack’s back.  He pushed him forward to speed him up. “Isn’t that what brothers do?”

The memory hit Zack abruptly.  He pain in his body dissipated.  The scent of warm, processed mako, lubricant on steel, and leather invaded his senses instead.  Zack’s head felt lighter as he looked ahead at the man on the dimly lit platform. His long, silver hair snaked down his back like a white blanket.  His expression was amused. Gone were the remnants. Only Zack and Sephiroth remained. The sight of him made Zack’s heart ache.

“We used to sneak in there for fun when the 2nds were out.”   Sephiroth said.  He tipped his head to one side when he spoke, a curve in the corner of his mouth.   “Genesis, Angeal, and I.”

Kadaj lifted his hand and the memory disappeared in a blink.  Zack blinked away a black haze as he looked back at the teenager.  A question lingered on his lips--he’d taken a breath to ask--but Kadaj shook his head as if to say ‘save it.’

“For creatures such as ourselves,” he said.  “A memory is never just a memory.”

The boy smiled, and pressed his hand to Zack’s sleeve.  It was a gentle, but firm touch. “Zack,” Kadaj said. The tone was firm, assuring, and familiar.  It was as if Kadaj had plucked the best way to refer to the ex-SOLDIER straight from his brain. “You will learn.”

Zack wasn’t sure why he followed the three brothers out of the reactor so easily.  Perhaps it was his own curiosity or maybe he really did trust Sephiroth fully in this situation. Either way, they walked out of that reactor as allies.  There was one thing that made Zack debate about turning back, however.  

“Where are we going?”  Zack asked.  

“Now that we have you here, we can confirm a lead.”  Yazoo answered, his tone brisk and light.  

Loz spoke next, his voice borderline apologetic. “We will go to the mansion,” he said.

The temperature in the snowy village nearly dropped by twenty degrees.  Zack wrapped his arms around himself.  

Chapter Text

Subject: Z

Condition: Stable

Log date: January 1, 0004

Daily immersive: S-Cell, J-Cell, Mako-220 

Additional: s-sedative, k-sedative, nutrients via gastro insert

Additional Behavioral Notes: N/A

Following the daily exposure of J-cells, Subject Z has gained a miniscule ability to regenerate (e; fingernails, bone density, skin cells).  In comparison to Subject S, this is unacceptable. At 0500 on Dec 31, 0003 the subject was removed from containment. Maxillary and mandibular incisors, cuspids, and bicuspids--removed.  Should the subject take to J-Cells as naturally as it appears, the subject should regenerate these teeth in 6-12 weeks. Until this time, the subject’s mouth will be shut to protect the jaw.

Subject: C

Condition: Unstable

Log date: January 7, 0004

Daily immersive: S-Cell, Mako-220 

Additional: s-sedative, nutrients via gastro insert

Additional Behavioral Notes: Vocal, violent 

Though unresponsive during its own testing, C shows significantly more mental activity while in periods of stasis.  C reacts with violent convulsions when Z is removed from stasis and having tests performed. Though it appears C is non-responsive to the eye, its hands are constantly active-- scratching on the containment chamber until its fingertips were removed by its own effort.  To protect the specimen and to better measure its period of bone regeneration, it has been removed from stasis and secured.  

We will test the two specimens outside of containment for the next week to see how they respond to stimuli as one unit.  

Subject: Z

Condition: Stable

Log date: June 3, 0005

Daily immersive: S-Cell, J-Cell, Mako-220 

Additional: s-sedative, k-sedative, r-sedative, dazer, nutrients via gastro insert

Additional Behavioral Notes: Violent, non-vocal

Lacerations have been made against the scapula in the effort to encourage wing growth.  Doubling down on the cocktail of S and J cells has proven ineffective toward generating an S-Grade SOLDIER. No improvement on the subject’s strength has been measured, though teeth and limbs have been proven to be able to regenerate.  Z is nonverbal when being handled in the labs, due to the condition of its jaw. Subject C appears to speak for him--using a variety of colorful vocabulary in both the common language and what, at first, appeared to be gibberish.  

Subject: C

Condition: Unstable

Log date: June 3, 0005

Daily immersive: S-Cell, Mako-220 

Additional: s-sedative, dazer, nutrients via gastro insert

Additional Behavioral Notes: Violent, vocal

With further inspection, it appears that C has been shouting a variety of insults in the native language of the Gongaga area.    The subjects appear to be linked via a mental link. It appears the link can go from Z to C but not C to Z. This may be a result of the lack of J-Cells in C.  Lacerations along the spine and scapula have also been made on C.  

Z is still directly unresponsive to threats against Subject C without auditory cues.

To confirm that Z is unresponsive to physical threats to C, we have slowly began to introduce mildly lethal doses of mako 330 directly into C.  This quiets C significantly, as it did for Subject S. 

Subject: C

Condition: Unstable, nonresponsive

Log date: August 1, 0005

Daily immersive: S-Cell, Mako-330 

Additional: s-sedative, nutrients via gastro insert

Additional Behavioral Notes: N/A

C shows slight mental activity and significant cell regrowth, but essentially shows no signs of being anything but an ill SOLDIER.  Due to the poisons in its system, the subject’s body is failing. Subject Z does not respond as C is nonverbal.

Subject: Z

Condition: Stable

Log date: October 17, 0005

Daily immersive: S-Cell, J-Cell, Mako-330

Additional: s-sedative, k-sedative, r-sedative, dazer, nutrients via gastro insert

Additional Behavioral Notes: Violent, non-vocal

Z still continues to respond to stimuli and grow, though he has not generated any signs of a S-type SOLDIER. The project in this matter is deemed a failure.  330 and 450 was introduced to the subject’s system, which Z processed as easily as a generic mako shot. Z regenerates cells and repairs its own vital organs.  We will test its ability to survive in the field within the next year. Should it be successful, SOLDIER type-Z would be an acceptable improvement to Heideggar’s current goons. 

--

Zack had his head laid across the desk, his dark hair spilling across the table like an inky river.  “So?” he asked. He eyed the tall and slender remnant who was pouring over the stack of papers on the desk.  Yazoo seemed to be the only one who was interested in reading the documents that Zack had uncovered in the dusty locked cabinet that had also held the professor’s surgical tools. 

The air of the laboratory still held the scent of blood, rainwater, and the slightly metallic stench of stale mako.   Despite the atrocities in the space, the professors tools were still clean--the metal examination table held not even the slightest hint of blood. 

Zack kept his head down.  He didn’t like being in the labs again, even if he knew he was safe now.  He couldn’t get over the coldness of his body as he grabbed the zippers of his coat and pulled it around himself.  He didn’t remember Nibelheim’s temperatures being able to cut right into his bones. He shivered.  

“Read it yourself,” Yazoo said lightly.  Inhuman green eyes looked up from the document with a false disinterest.  

“He’s scared,” Kadaj laughed.  “He’s scared of what he is.”  

Zack shot the youngest of the remnants a bitter look.  Then, he nodded. He was scared. As he lifted his head to look at Kadaj, he felt a jolt through his system. Kadaj had perched himself on the examining table as if it were simply an everyday object.  He held an old support materia in his hands, rolling the heavy ball of magic over his hand, tossing it, letting it pass along his stretched fingers.  

The world unfolded and suddenly Zack was looking at himself from the outside.  He could see his body spread out on the table, naked, scarred, shaking. Everything was tinted in green light. He could see the young and uncertain assistant to the professor reaching into his mouth with the cold steel pliers. Zack hated the pull against his mouth as it stretched against the cold metal.  The assistant was young and timid-as if the unconscious subject would bite him if he didn’t work quickly. 

Kad uvv uv sa.

Get off of me.  The words rang in his ears and though he knew what they meant, they felt foreign--as if he were hearing them through an aquarium tank. They felt garbled, distorted, and wrong. 

At the same time Zack could feel the rush of hot blood over his tongue as another tooth was twisted out of his jaw.  The crack had been so disturbingly loud. Even in the moment as an outsider, it made his stomach twist.

Hu! Kad uvv uv sa!

No! Get off me!

He tried to move and he couldn’t push himself away from their curious hands and sharp instruments.  A shot of pain rocketed up his arms.  

Zack ran his tongue over his teeth.  They were perfectly straight, no damage--it was as if nothing had ever happened to them. He knew better though. The teeth were too perfect for his mouth.  When he was ten, he’d chipped his lower front tooth after falling from his father’s chocobo. He’d always ran his tongue over the rough area when he got lost in thought.  He remembered touching his tongue to his teeth when Angeal yelled, or when Zack had gotten lost in a storm in Wutai. Vivid memories of feeling alone and stressed always came with an odd sense of comforting roughness of pressing his tongue to the broken spot. Zack had found comfort in the imperfection.   

“But why are you scared?” Loz asked.  

The vision of the professor and his assistants leaning over Zack with their tools and wires disappeared in a flash.  The tingling in his hands faded to a pang. Then, it disappeared into memory. 

Zack felt a shuddering breath come out of him.  He was no longer the helpless outsider, but rather himself once again.  He let his head drop back to the desk weakly.

Loz’s white eyebrow arched upwards as he returned his interest to balancing a scalpel by its handle. He turned it over his fingertip, balancing its weight like a knife.  “What’s the point of being scared of it? It’s already happened--you can’t do anything about it. Besides, you’re fine. It’s done.” He waved a hand lazily forward. “Move on.”

Easier said than done.  Zack closed his mouth and held his breath.  Well, he was safe now, of course. He was alive.  He was present, breathing--and he could just regrow teeth now.  Was there anything necessarily bad about regrowing his teeth?  No. It was wildly unsettling, but bad? No.  

If Zack over thought it enough, he could think that maybe Hojo was trying to do him a favor.

Zack’s stomach lurched again.  The gritty bile of the sour, then sweet Geostigma rushed over his tongue. 

Nope.  That was the craziest thing he’d ever thought.  It was even crazier than going across the continent to yell his feelings to a dead man in a reactor.

Zack nodded towards Yazoo, who held out the documents as if he were holding out a newspaper.  Zack braced himself, then took them. Okay. He was ready to know.

Then, Kadaj snatched the papers away.  

“H-Hey!”

Kadaj shrugged and tossed the first page over his shoulder. With one quick motion, he’d hopped off the table.  Kadaj read, then tossed the second. As Zack got up to move, Kadaj would take a step to the left or right until Zack had walked them both halfway around the lab while Kadaj carroted him along.  

“Looks like you grew back your teeth fine,” the teenager teased.  “And your fingers too! Whoa!”

“Stop it!”  Zack reached for the papers.  Kadaj would jerk away at the last moment and keep the other from them.

“You’re truly our brother, that’s a relief--”  Kadaj said. 

“Knock it off!”  Zack had the boy trapped in a corner, yet Kadaj was still managing to keep the papers away.

“You have no idea what you are, do you?”  Kadaj asked. His expression was no longer playful.  It was neutral. Now that he’d succeeded in getting Zack to fight for the answers, he held the papers out to him. 

Zack stopped.   Kadaj tipped his head to one side.  The corner of his mouth tipped up. He reached for Zack’s wrist and held it tight.  There was a flicker in his expression and Sephiroth’s knowing gaze on the young body bore into him.  It was as if Zack had been looking at Sephiroth as a sixteen-year-old instead of the grown man Zack had always known.  It made him seem weaker, though Zack knew better. Sephiroth had been managing armies by that age. He’d been flourishing.  

“You’re only afraid because you don’t understand.”  

Zack felt calmer.  He didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to hear these words from a kid!  His brain was telling him to push back, to yell, but his body refused.  Zack took a step toward Kadaj and his hands shook. He couldn’t even lift them. The Geostigma wasn’t hurting, his ears weren’t ringing, and Sephiroth’s presence felt like a warm blanket on his senses.  He was being subdued and he didn’t like it.

“You were made to be our brother.  We needed you. ”  The boy’s expression looked guilty.  “ Specifically, Zack.” he finished.   

The words followed an aching need.  Kadaj reached for Zack’s hair, to tuck one of the messy spikes back away from his face.  There was a gentle level of care from him that Zack had yet to receive from the remnant. It made Zack feel as if Kadaj were not in full control of his own actions. 

Zack leaned into the boy’s touch. Something inside his chest felt as if it had shattered. 

The small amount of mako in his system caused his eyes to spark bright--flecks of sky blue sparkled like tiny embers in the deep violet of his eyes. 

What do you mean, ‘specifically?’

“You knew,” Zack said as he tried to drag his wrist away from the other’s grasp.  Kadaj held firm, but didn’t fight to pull Zack closer.

Kadaj had attempted to keep his gaze neutral.  He looked ahead, somewhere between Zack’s eyes.  He didn’t look into them. The behavior went all the way back to how a recruit copes in basic training.  Kadaj could have been an infantryman being yelled at by his commanding officer. He was young enough to be that.  The level of guilt was certainly more than enough!

Zack adjusted his sentence as his heart dropped.

“He knew about this, didn’t he?”

All it would have taken to ease Zack’s anger was denial.  All Kadaj had to have done was tell him a lie. But he didn’t. Kadaj looked up at Zack, then away.  He opened his mouth, made a soft sound, then shut it. He swallowed. His fingers relaxed on Zack’s arm.  The boy looked a little less like Sephiroth and more like his own person again. 

“He won’t let me answer…” Kadaj said, his voice just above a whisper.  

Zack’s brows knit together and his ears flushed red.  Ache pierced his chest and it was more betraying than any bullet.

“This is why you brought me here, isn’t it? So I could find out without you needing to say anything?  Letting the Professor take all the blame for this so Sephiroth can waltz in and be blameless?”

A big hand clapped down on Zack’s shoulder. The ex-SOLDIER’s instant reaction was to jump. Zack’s Geostigma wounds felt like his skin was trying to rip itself apart at the other man’s touch.  The ex-SOLDIER shrugged the offending hand away. “It was always part of the plan, wasn’t it?” Zack snapped. “That’s why Hojo was constantly testing me! You two--Sephiroth, Hojo--you’d planned this?  You didn’t go crazy at all!” Zack shoved Kadaj--and the boy’s head made a dent in the metal wall from the force.  

“He,” Zack corrected, tousling his hand through his dark hair.  “H-He didn’t go crazy.” The fingers combed the spikes back out of his face.  Hands trembling, he stood there for a moment and closed his eyes. He’d hit a kid.  That wasn’t right--

The action had been toward Sephiroth.  He was taking it out on Sephiroth. Kadaj was just the unfortunate avatar in the moment. 

The large hands were now wrapped around Zack’s middle.  Loz was dragging him back, preventing any further injury to the remnant’s smallest brother.  Even though Zack had calmed, Loz behaved as if the threat was still there. And he should have.

Yazoo had flocked to the youngest's side and knelt with him quickly.  He pushed the boy’s short silver hair upward to check for injuries.

Zack opened his eyes again and dropped his arms.  Streaks of grey ooze dripped out of the sleeves of his coat.

“Give me an answer!  Am I right?” Zack was fighting to stay still.  

A coughing fit pushed through his body.  Spatters of the black disease ran down the corners of his mouth. He wiped them away with the back of his hand.   “And then--did he even bother to think of the consequences?” Zack asked. “I’m like this now because of him.”

Zack’s head tipped to one side as a heat rose in his throat.  It burned his nose as he felt the tears bead in his eyes. “Did he even bother to care?  I’m not the only one he hurt! Cloud got all up in this mess! He could’ve died.” Zack shook his head.  

“Hell!” Zack said finally, wiggling out of Loz’s grasp.  He turned to face the biggest remnant. “I could have died!”

Zack didn’t like the way that Loz’s face contorted in that moment.  Zack had seen grief.  Silver brows knit together and his cheeks went red. Hurt. Loz radiated pain.  Catlike eyes didn’t look away from Zack at first, and then Loz had to force himself to look away.

A low and painful twinge tore at the ex-SOLDIER from the inside out.   The emotion was not his own. Loz cupped his hand over his mouth--as if hiding behind it would conceal already tear-streaked cheeks.  

Zack’s whole world shattered when he thought about what he could have said to have made Loz react like that.

“No,” Zack said softly.  “Don’t--”

Yazoo was the brave one.  He stood up and handed Zack the recovered documents.  Zack wasn’t afraid this time when he accepted them. He walked back to the desk, and sat.  In a brief moment, he wondered if this was how Sephiroth felt when he’d locked himself in the library all those years ago.  

 Zack sat very still.  All was quiet. He read the documents.  The information was both enough and not enough.  Zack was certain any other details of his experimentation had been retrieved by the Turks--the documents had either destroyed or kept in a filing system so secretive that they might as well have been torched the minute they were in Tseng’s hands.

“He wrote about testing my ability to survive in the field…”  Zack raked his fingers through his hair again, making that chaos of spikes more of a mass of tangles.  He looked up. “Alright. So the army was a field test. But I survived so…”

“Actually--”  Yazoo began.

Zack’s heart jumped with the possibility of the next answer.  He lifted his hand to stop Yazoo from talking. “Just tell me,” he said.  No more riddles.

“We believe you’re still in Midgar.  Your consciousness was just...separated.  You and Him are identical. He uses Kadaj.  You use something else.”

Zack nodded.  “Alright.” He said, tucking his hair behind his ear again.  “Then what am I now?”

Kadaj lifted his head.  He was still rubbing his hand over the bump Zack had caused.  

“You’re Cloud.”

Chapter Text

Cloud’s blood felt like ice as jolts of electrifying pain shot from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet. 

It was happening again!  He couldn’t believe it! He was doing it again! The lying, the fear, the illusion of being someone he wasn’t--

Cloud had supposedly recovered from all of these delusions, hadn’t he?  This time he wasn’t just masquerading as a madman of a 1st class--this time he was believing himself to be him. It had been two years since he’d recovered his memory; now he was relapsing and it was twice as bad!

Hot, thick breaths caught in Cloud’s throat. The world seemed to close in on him like the inner walls of the mako chambers.  Fear was pouring in on him, pooling at his feet, and it was quickly drowning his lungs.

How long had he been away?  Why did he decide to come here?  Why had he called them --the Remnants of all people?  He might as well have handed the Black Materia to Sephiroth all over again.

But, if it were Sephiroth, why didn’t Cloud feel him there?  

Sephiroth’s spiritual pull was unlike anything Cloud had ever felt before.  He thought he would be able to stop it now that he’d become familiar with the odd, peaceful guidance that usually ended in blood and grief.

Cloud’s fingertips were buzzing. 

Thin fingers raked through messy blond spikes as he looked between the three remnants. His world had gone dizzy.

Each silver-haired being sported a different emotion on their faces.  Loz looked at Cloud with a sense of pity, his green eyes unable to look at Cloud’s face for too long.  Yazoo observed with a calculated coolness, his emotionally barren face only showing the hint of intrigue in the corner of his lips that he could not hide.  

Kadaj’s gaze held the usual odd delight of a cat that had caught a mouse in the corner.  His eyes smiled and his teeth were too perfect and too many for his mouth. Human as he looked, Kadaj was also undoubtedly a creature born of Jenova. The silver-haired boy stepped forward.

“Good to see you, Cloud!”  His words were chosen carefully. They were young and energetic, yet chilling.

The boy gestured to the seat that Zack had previously occupied. “Take a seat.”

Cloud’s hands reached behind his back for his sword, only to find emptiness.  He took in his surroundings and shaking, he swallowed and let his arms drop to his sides. 

He was not afraid of the three.  He was afraid of how he got to them.  

He couldn’t remember.  Cloud resisted the urge to grab at his hair, locking his elbows to his sides instead.  He needed to calm himself and focus, there would be time to worry about losing his mind later.

Blue eyes flicked to Loz, whose wall of muscle definitely going to be a problem should things get hostile.  It was like two behemoths packed into one body. Cloud might’ve been enhanced, but Loz really could prove to be an issue.

“Sit,” Kadaj commanded, rubbing his head.  “I’m tired.” Kadaj regarded Cloud as an annoying acquaintance,  green eyes flicking over the other’s form and away. It was as if Cloud wasn’t worth the energy.  Kadaj walked back to the examination table and hopped up onto it as if he had done it his whole life.  He waved at the documents before resting his weight on his hands behind him. “Well, go on. Read.”

Cloud’s gaze flicked down to the papers.  He didn’t sit, but he took them and cautiously read over the words on the page.  He didn’t quite understand, so he raised his eyes for an explanation.  

“You and the other are connected,” Loz said. The gentle, rumbling tone took the blond by surprise at first.  “You must’ve taken on a task that interested him.”

“Zack,” Yazoo said, his fingertip tracing a long crack in a mako chamber in front of him.  He made a thoughtful hum, tapping the seemingly unbreakable glass panel. 

A knifelike pain shot down Cloud’s side.  As if caught on fire, he reached to pat out the blaze.  The sleeve of his big leather jacket draped over his hand.  He could feel the ooze of his stigma trickle down through his clothes, like warm rainwater during a downpour. 

Geostigma!

The blond took a step back and fell backward onto his ass--and right out of his own boot.

Cloud shook his head, scrambling on his hands and feet to get back up, but the pain in his ribcage was keeping him down.  “I-I don’t--” Cloud took in a gasp, frustrated with himself and his pain. “I don’t understand.”

Loz knelt by Cloud’s side to help him back to his feet. 

“The Jenova cells have connected you and your brother.”  Yazoo explained, keeping his back turned. “You share a link.  As long as you share the same biological data of Zack Fair, he can utilize you as a Host for his essence to an extent.“  Cloud watched the other’s shoulders rise and fall, a weak shrug toward the situation. 

The blond didn’t take Loz’s hand.  He didn’t trust the kindness, even though in this moment, each of the three remnants seemed more human than Sephiroth himself ever did.  

Why, though?

“For some reason, Zack was borrowing your body,”  Loz continued to explain, handing Cloud the boot that was two sizes too big.  A line of concern formed between his brows. An old instinct in the blond made him want to reach to smooth the skin there.  Something else held his hands firmly at his sides.

Cloud recognized neither of these feelings as his own. 

“Bonds are common with our kind, especially when a memory is present. We are often poor Hosts for Sephiroth as we have never met Him. You serve Zack better.”

“But Zack’s--”

The world dropped out from underneath him.

“Dead?”  Kadaj asked.   “Hardly. Did our Mother die in her many parts?  Does Sephiroth die?” The boy shook his head and his silver-white hair fluttered around his face.  His next words were both uplifting and felt like a dull knife cutting into Cloud’s thickest vein. The Stigma seemed to settle into Cloud’s joints as Kadaj said, “Do you die, Cloud?”

The blond thought of the many moments in his own life that he should’ve.  They were moments of sheer luck followed by moments of devastation: falling hundreds of stories, taking bullets from President ShinRa’s guards, being completely submerged in the Lifestream--

Kadaj’s words fell flat as he continued.  “Zack is one of our own. He’s merely in stasis.  Where there are many, all live. As long as one is bonded to the group, we all thrive, Cloud.”  He nodded down at the blond. “Yourself included.”

“As long as you live, a memory is never just a memory.”

Cloud took the boot from Loz and pulled it onto his foot.  He yanked the laces tight. Even when laced as tightly as possible, the boot still slid on his foot.

All of this would explain why he appeared in Nibelheim in clothes that were two sizes too big, but he still remained doubtful.  When had Sephiroth ever told him the truth?

“Why should I believe you?” Cloud asked, one brow arched and his voice dry.  He lifted his hands to look at the sleeves of the black coat. Why did it have to be black?  He could just be a Sephiroth copy that suddenly became aware again.  

If it were Zack’s choices, though--

Cloud imagined Zack standing in front of him as he asked him about it.  

Zack would laugh, shake his head, or shrug it off.  ‘Huh? The jacket?’ he’d say, plucking at the collar.  ‘ It’s ‘cause I look good in black!’  Then, he would ruffle Cloud’s hair and go back to his business.  ‘ Don’t overthink it Clow.’

Cloud would need proof that this really was Zack’s coat though…

Zack Fair was always prepared with the strangest stuff.  In the worst situations, Zack would always have something--a stick of gum, a piece of candy, materia, a potion.  No matter what the situation called for, Zack would have something on hand to make it a little better.

Knowingly, Cloud unzipped the pockets of the jacket.  He yanked out a gob of junk. 

In his palm, Cloud clutched fifty gil, a chip of materia, three maiden’s kisses, half of an unwrapped stick of cinnamon gum, and two receipts for the daily special in extra spicy.  He reached into the other pocket and found a hair tie, a broken pen, and a scrap of paper. Zack had scribbled on one of them in star shapes until the broken pen bit worked.

Cloud laughed.  

Spiced cinnamon was Zack’s favorite flavor.  Spicy anything was Zack’s whole diet.

Zack collected materia chips to fuse them later.  Zack had the coolest materia because of this.

Zack always kept fifty gil on hand, not for himself, but for someone who would need it.

The paper and pen were in case he met a girl and needed her number immediately.

When Zack’s hair had started to get long, he’d experimented with tying it back for a while.  He never wore it up for work, but when he got home, he’d tie it back to cook.

The junk was only junk to anyone else, but not to Zack.  

It meant the world to Cloud.

Dragging his knees to his chest, Cloud laughed, and then a horrible gob of snot went straight to his throat.  It burned at his eyes as he swallowed it back. It was amazing that a mess in someone’s pocket could make him feel so overwhelmingly happy and sad at the same time.

Zack was here again. Cloud pulled the collars of the coat closer to his face and shrunk into it, relishing in the scent of ginger, grass, leather, and motorcycle oil. How had he not paid attention to it before?  Of course, it was unmistakably Zack.

The sensation of Zack being somewhat near was dizzyingly peaceful.  

Every mistake that Cloud had made was one that Zack would have thought his way out of.  Every death that Cloud had witnessed was one that Zack could have prevented. Zack was the type of man to come up with solutions.

Zack was The Hero the planet needed.

Cloud seemed dwarfed by Zack’s clothes.  “Did he call you?” the blond asked. “Zack?”

“Yes.”  Kadaj crossed one leg over the other and straightened his back.  “We’re here to cut you a deal. We need Zack for our Reunion. Zack wishes to be useful, and Sephiroth needs Zack.”

Cloud felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.  He kept his voice as flat as he could, but his emotions betrayed him at the end of his sentence.  “What do you mean, Reunion?”

Kadaj rubbed at the bump on his head in frustration.  “Sephiroth is the only one who can wake Zack. On the other hand, Sephiroth wants Zack as his source of Jenova cells.”

Cloud looked at the cracked, empty mako tank that was only a few feet from Kadaj’s side.  He looked back at the boy, his heart hammering inside his chest.

“Why does he want Zack?”

Kadaj sighed, and shook his head in thought. After a moment of thought, he decided on an answer.  “Zack is special,” he said. “Zack is his friend.”

Maybe he was too enticed by the idea of Zack Fair walking the Planet again but he liked the answer. If he was making the wrong choice, at least he’d have Zack.  

And Zack would know how to make things better.

Against his better judgement, Cloud took them to them to the cliffs at the city’s edge where the dirt was barren and the world seemed like miles of desert. 

They dug for a body that all of them were unsure existed.  And seven feet down there was a creature that felt cold to the touch.

“This is it,” Kadaj confirmed before Cloud could.  “It’s One like us.”

The creature that was nearly human-like. He was cocooned in the dove grey feathers of his wing, made dark from the dirt and grime of the hole which he was placed. 

“H-Help me lift him,” the boy said, slipping his arms around Zack’s waist.  He strained against Zack’s weight.

Loz was the next to reach for Zack, cradling the raven’s head as it nestled in its cocoon.

Like a ragdoll, the body lulled over Loz’s arm.  “Ugh. Gross--” The corners of his mouth flicked down in disgust.  Cloud could understand why. It was like holding a giant dead bird. It smelled like death.

The body and face was not at all how it was supposed to be.  This couldn’t be Zack Fair.

It was difficult to identify this man, in fact.  He had a thick beard, caked with mud. His too long, dark hair was flecked with thin streaks of grey.  This could have been any other winged homeless man, had there been anyone else on this Planet who could have possibly fit the description. 

Cloud held his breath until it hurt.  Zack held the stench of Geostigma all over his skin, despite showing no signs of decay.  Gone were the familiar scents of cinnamon, ginger, and leather. Zack now smelled only of rot.  

It was such a disservice to the man that managed to never look disheveled, even in battle.  For someone who cared as much about appearances as Zack did--this was a cruelty.

The creature that Zack Fair was now--this winged man--was difficult to touch.  He was dirty--and who knew what was also living among the feathers. Yet, something in Cloud caused him to reach for the cold body in Loz’s arms and rest his forehead against Zack’s covered chest.  

Zack didn’t move. Cloud knew he wouldn’t.  His cold body remained still. 

All of a sudden, all of the grief in the world filled Cloud up. He swallowed the heat in his throat back.  Cloud bit down hard on his lip and his mouth bled. He wouldn’t cry in front of these men.

“Show a good face Cloud,” came a honey-like tone from over his shoulder.  “You’re meeting a friend.”

Yazoo, with perfect grace, reached and carefully tucked his fingers into Zack’s wing. He’d spoken with perfect command, free from the strain of the situation. Cloud hadn’t wanted to compose himself in the moment, but when Yazoo asked, he found a way to lift his head higher.  

Part of Cloud hated himself for this.

With a knowledgeable twist from Yazoo, one of the feathers in Zack’s wing would give way.  Then, another came. And then the third.

To each brother went the feathers.  

Each brother lost interest in the pair of SOLDIERS. They turned among themselves and moved as one unit.  Contact with the feathers seemed to cause pain as each young remnant cried out, pulling himself into one person, shaping and contorting into one aching, twisted, and seemingly grieving man.

Each brother was made malleable and formed from three shapes into one.

The way this man-like shape moved was not human in the least.  Sephiroth contorted over himself, battling each of the three shapes for one consistent form. Limp silver hair draped over one shoulder.  He looked at Cloud, then Zack. His eyes were darkened by circles. Sephiroth didn’t move.

A trembling hand reached for his own face.  Sephiroth bit the fingertip of his leather glove to tug it off.  He threw it to one side. Catlike eyes gazed at his hand for a fraction of a second, as if surprised by his own flesh.  

Then, with an animal-like instinct he tore into this palm with his teeth to draw blood.  

Sephiroth acted with speed, tugging the grey wing away from Zack’s injured body.  He pulled what was left of the tattered SOLDIER sweater upward. Among the holes and divots of the flesh, he applied a bloody hand, leaving dark red trails of toxic blood pressed into raw skin. Sephiroth put his hand over Zack’s nose and mouth, as if drinking the general’s blood was the ticket to life itself.

“Wake,” Sephiroth said, his voice knowing the order would not go unquestioned.  

Zack Fair remained still.  

There was silence.

The ex-General’s breaths were shallow. He pressed harder and a spurt of red appeared under his palm from the pressure.  Sephiroth was draining himself, pressing harder for each second that passed that Zack remained unconscious. 

Cloud had never seen Sephiroth in such a state of desperation.  Especially since he was ultimately the man to have put Zack in such a state to begin with.  

“Wake,” the request came again, this time softer.   It was as if the decision to return was placed in Zack’s hands.  Perhaps it was. Sephiroth’s voice wavered. “Please,” he said.

In a way, Zack gave an answer.  

The grey wing withdrew, sinking back towards Zack’s shoulder blade and melting away in a thick, black fog.  Zack’s wounded chest rose and fell as he took one staggering breath. Grey-violet eyes blinked at the blue sky.  Zack’s unfocused gaze tracked the landscape until he found the person he was looking for. Zack grit his teeth. He lifted his arm high enough for it to fall around Cloud’s neck to pull him forward.

He spoke his first word:

“S-sorry,” he apologized, Zack’s voice like gravel.  The apology held a lot of different meanings: sorry for using Cloud’s body, sorry for dragging him into the mess, sorry for dying.

“You,” Zack said. “Had to...”

“‘S’kay.”  Cloud said quickly.  “Don’t worry--”

Zack’s eyes focused, then lulled off as he shut them.  “Shhhh,” he tapped Cloud on the top of his head as if to say ‘let me finish’.

“...live.” he said finally.  His arm slipped off of Cloud’s neck.  It was as if that sentence sapped the last of his energy from him.  Zack’s gaze wandered, unfocused. It landed on the silver and black shape.  

“You,” Zack said. His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it held so much power in his words. Zack winced. “Need to talk...to me.” 

Sephiroth’s tone was calm.  He reached for his bracelet and cast a spell on Zack instead.  Something in Zack’s body cracked. Zack yelped in response to it snapping back in place.  His chest rose a little higher when he breathed.  

“Are you angry?”  The ex-general asked.

Zack responded with grit teeth. He pushed Cloud’s hand out of the way and he sat up.  He groaned until he was fully upright, licking at the dry sand on his lips. Sephiroth was only inches from him.  Zack pulse was buzzing.

“Good,” came Sephiroth’s answer as he hovered over the other man’s body.  “Hold onto your anger.”

“Eat shit.”  The tone was flat.  Bitter. “Talk to me.”

There was a silence between the pair. It was enough to send Zack on-edge when he realized that he wouldn’t get his answer right away.

“Damn it!” Zack was all unruly hair and bared teeth.  His body appeared to have utilized all of his mako enhancement for survival, leaving him in the shell of what appeared to be a normal human, thin muscles, gangly limbs.  He didn’t appear to be a threat.

But then he moved.  Cloud had never seen Zack move that fast.

Physically ill, woken from death with only one regenerative spell in his system, the Legend SOLDIER, Zack Fair managed to land his fist into Sephiroth’s face. Something crunched.  Zack didn’t even bother to look at what--or who--he’d hurt.

“You couldn’t just let me live or die in peace, could you?”  Zack pounced. “You couldn’t leave things alone! You took everything and it’s still not enough!”

Zack was on top of him now, his weight pressed against Sephiroth’s chest, his knees squeezing him on either side.  Green eyes gazed up at him, too calm for Zack’s liking. Fingers locked into silver hair, Zack yanked.

“You wanted to be here,”  Sephrioth said with a tone of ice, hands pressing Zack back at the shoulders to keep him at bay.  “You’re experiencing shock, it’s--”

“I wanted things to get fucking better!”  Zack shouted. Releasing the hair, Zack thrust the flat of his palm down hard towards Sephiroth’s face and the other man raised his arm to block.  It didn’t stop Zack from throwing his entire weight forward and butting his forehead into the other man’s. “You made people sick! You made people die!  They didn’t deserve it! You know they didn’t!” Hot, frustrated, tears streamed down Zack’s face and onto Sephiroth’s. 

“You’re supposed to be loyal to SOLDIER! You’re supposed to--you’re supposed to have honor!” 

Sephiroth winced as if Zack had managed to slap him.

A long sobbing breath whooshed out of Zack’s lungs as he lunged again.  His palms tore open from the force of his own weight against the buckles of Sephiroth's bracers. It didn't stop him.  He went, again, for Sephiroth's face.

At first, Cloud had put his hands out to do the unthinkable.  He was about to protect Sephiroth from Zack's rage.

Then, Cloud stopped.  He let it happen. Sephiroth didn’t retaliate.  He let it happen too, until Zack’s hands were bloodied and rough. They both let Zack scream, and cry, and grieve for his life, the Planet, and its people, for as long as he wanted.

“I just wanted,” Zack sniffled finally, raising his red hands to his face to wipe his own tears. He left smears of scarlet on his cheeks. “I just wanted the world to be better.”  

“I know.” Sephiroth said. 

Sephiroth sat up, tenderly pressing his hand to his own bruising, bloodied nose. “This is why you’re the most important.  This is why I need you.”

He raised his hand and Zack winced.

“Sleep,” the ex-general cast.

Chapter Text

It was four in the afternoon when they arrived at the bar.  There were a total of six individuals in Seventh Heaven when they arrived.  Reno and Rude were chatting up Tifa about the latest boxing match in town.  Yuffie and Vincent were helping Marlene with her science homework.  A messy paper mache mountain was forming in the center of a round table.  Vincent had a piece of old newspaper glued to the underside of his gauntlet that he hadn’t noticed.

Shockingly, Reno was the one to drop his drink across the counter when Cloud Strife walked into the bar with Sephiroth in tow.  All was silent as he reached for his weapon, the crackle of electricity making the air smell of ozone.  

Not a sound was heard.  No one moved.  

In Sephiroth’s arms, limp, was a bearded man with matted, long dark hair. 

Sephiroth, who was supposed to be the most dangerous person on the Planet was not only alive, but Cloud Strife had walked him to his home. 

“We need to talk,” Cloud announced to the group.  All eyes were on Sephiroth.  The silver-haired man’s expression hardened momentarily, and then his green eyes flicked down to the bundle in his arms.  Sephiroth took a breath and held it.  Zack shifted, his fragile body flinching with pain at his own slight movement. 

“Yeah,” Rude said, his voice a low rumble as he got up from his bar stool to stand next to Reno.  He was a mountain of a man as he knocked his drink back and pulled his glove down tight against his fingers.

“What’s he here for?” Reno asked, tipping his chin towards the ex-General.  “This some sort of--”  Reno’s voice clipped off.  What exactly was unfolding here?  

Without Cloud needing to answer, Sephiroth lowered his head as if to gesture at the man in his arms.  It was at that moment that Tifa quickly put down the bottle of scotch that she’d been holding.  It clanked hard against the wooden counter of the bar.

“Wait.  Who is that--?”  Tifa did the unthinkable.  

She brushed past Reno and Rude, and ducked under Cloud’s raised arm. Without showing any level of fear, she took the raven-haired man out of Sephiroth’s arms.  Sephiroth let her.  Tifa was strong enough to bear Zack’s weight with only a little struggle in her legs.  Sephiroth watched with quiet admiration.  Tifa Lockhart would have flourished as a SOLDIER.

“Hey!  Hey!” Reno warned.  

“It’s the SOLDIER from Nibelheim.” She said, as if that answered everything. 

Cloud nodded, “It’s Zack.”

“Zack Fair? That guy’s dead.” Reno said, taking a step forward himself.  Reno had buried him.  “That’s not real.”  Despite himself, he needed to get a closer look.   

Rude raised his hand as if to stop the redhead from falling for the same trap.  Reno stumbled when he ran into the other man’s arm.   “How d’you know it’s Zack?”

Reno’s water-grey eyes observed the corpsy-looking man in Tifa’s arms.  It was difficult for Reno to imagine Zack like this--broken and frail.

That being said, it was difficult to imagine Zack ever being dead.  When Reno had finally come to find Zack’s bullet-ridden body on the edges of Midgar, he’d been too late.  Zack’s body had still been sticky with blood when he had gone to bury him.  

Back then, Zack had been right there--and Reno had missed his opportunity to save him.

And Zack was here now.

But...so was Sephiroth.  And that was a problem.  Reno cleared his throat.  “Ah right,” he said.  “Tifa, it’s a trick,” he said, needing to use his own words to convince himself.  “This could be a trap.  Sephiroth’s a master manipulator.  There’s no way in hell this is real! You need to--”

“Is he dead?”  She asked, her brown eyes flicking up to Sephiroth’s. The ex-general opened his mouth.  No words came.  He shook his head instead.

She gave Zack a few rapid taps to the cheek.  Zack’s light violet eyes opened.  He blinked, dazed.  

“It’s you...” Zack said.  “Tifa, right?”

He sat up a little, leaning against her chest to steady himself. 

“Oh!” She gasped, her legs finally failing her when he spoke.  Zack Fair had no mako charge. This wasn’t right!  She lowered him to the floor and cautiously stepped away.

“You don’t know if that’s really Cloud either!” Reno tried to say, flourishing his weapon towards the blond.  “Say something to me that only Cloud would say!”

“No,” Cloud said.

Reno took a breath, lifting his mag rod over his shoulder to take a swing.  When Cloud didn’t even budge, the Turk hesitated.  

Cloud lifted his brows as if to challenge Reno to try him further.

“...That checks out I guess.”  Reno turned to the group at the table, tapping his weapon to his shoulder.  “Yo, can one of you call Tseng?  He’ll want to work this out. Vince, do us a favor my guy--”

All were quiet, except for Marlene.  She was humming and swaying her feet as if this were an everyday occurrence, sticking the next strip of newspaper into the glue mixture.  Of everything happening in this world, she existed in a world where Sephiroth could be in the same room and she fearlessly continued with her homework. 

Zack raised himself up on his elbow and moaned loudly.  “No!  I don’t want to deal with Tseng.  Can’t I talk to Cissnei first?” he begged.

Reno spoke cautiously, “Zack, Cissnei’s retired--” 

“A Turk is never retired.” Zack answered, his tone obviously crestfallen. “Once a Turk--”  Zack searched Reno’s eyes for sympathy.  It was returned with an expression of sadness. 

Zack felt his heart drop.  A Turk didn’t retire.  Was she hurt?  Was she sick?  Zack’s gaze flicked to Cloud’s sleeve and he swallowed.  No…

“Is it Geostigma?”  Zack asked quietly.

There was an odd silence. The man in the red cape stood.  

“Yuffie, contact Reeve, see if--see if he can--” Vincent raised his gun toward Sephiroth as well. The way he pointed his weapon was cold.  It was direct.

Yet, there was something about the way Sephiroth’s silver hair sloped against his cheek that made Vincent’s aim shake.  

Yuffie sensed the tension instantly. 

“Vincent, maybe you--” She said softly, placing her hand on his hip.  It was cautious, yet tender.  “You should sit down…”

Tifa spoke up, her voice clear.  

“Vincent, can you help Zack get a change of clothes?  His are full of holes.”  Then, her tone went flat.  “Sephiroth isn’t going to go anywhere without him.”   She gestured to the bar invitingly. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

The ex-general nodded as he crossed the room.  “Consider it a momentary surrender.”

As Zack stumbled to his feet so he could follow Vincent, no one took their eyes from Sephiroth as he sat down.  

“Do...do you eat?” She asked.

Sephiroth looked up at her, and his shoulders dropped as if he were assessing his situation.  Truly, he hadn’t been expecting this much hospitality from these ones.

It was Zack’s doing, Sephiroth knew that much.  No one would see him as a genuine threat as long as Zack Fair was nearby.  It was best to use this at his own advantage.

After a moment he nodded yes.  He would be able to eat.

They all took a step away from him, like fish do when a shark enters their territory.  This wasn’t the Sephiroth they knew. The Sephiroth that they could recall was an alien one.  He was a chaotic madman with no consideration for the weak and broken.  Now he seemed to be a man that may have been a bit broken himself.

Sephiroth’s brows knit together as Vincent put his metal arm around Zack’s waist.  Zack shifted his weight against Vincent’s shoulder.  Red eyes flicked over Zack’s weakened body, and then he looked over his shoulder at Sephiroth.  When the two men made eye-contact, a wearied expression washed over Vincent’s face.   He helped Zack up the stairs.

“Your name was Zack, was it?”  Vincent asked.

Zack had been supplied with a change of clothes, a brush and razor, and use of the upstairs bathroom while he tried to make heads or tails of his newfound personal situation.  Tifa had a spare room at the bar for guests so Zack was actually going to be blessed with a soft bed for the first time in years.  For that, he was grateful.

After Nibelheim, Zack knew never to take a hot shower and a bed for granted.  He was more than happy to take advantage of Tifa's hospitality.

He'd taken two hot showers in a row, deciding after the first that he wasn't clean enough.  After the second shower, he definitely felt more like a person so he decided to address the step in which he felt was vital for feeling like himself.

Zack tossed his wet hair out of his face.  Its knotted mass smacked across his back, leaving trails of cold water along his spine.   Rubbing his arm across the mirror to make a clear spot, he inspected his reflection.  Zack turned his head from one side to the other, and ultimately decided he did not like what he saw.

Zack stuck his fingers into the holes in his chest and frowned.   There was nothing that could be done about the scars.  He couldn't fix them.  Eventually, he supposed, he'd figure out how to live with them.  Maybe if he fixed something else, they wouldn't look so gross.

He eyed his tangled hair, then his beard.  Zack picked up the scissors on the counter and lifted his chin, trying to figure where to start.  “I look...bad.”

“It’s not so bad…” a voice said from the other side of the door.

Zack took a breath and cracked the bathroom door open to the source of the rumbling voice.  Sephiroth stood there, his gaze apologetic.   Zack tucked his towel a bit more firmly around his waist and turned back to his reflection.

“No, this is really bad,” Zack laughed sadly, sticking his thumb into one of the divots in his chest. The healed wound was deep.  “It’s different for you.  At least you came back beautiful.”

Sephiroth didn't have a response to that as he watched the other man cut his beard close to his jaw. 

Zack flinched at the sound of the blades closing. As a SOLDIER, Zack had always been able to hear everything amazingly well. He could dodge swords and bullets with his eyes closed.  It was a necessary evil.

Sephiroth wondered if Zack still had that skill.  How many bullets had it taken to overwhelm him?

“You know,”  Zack snipped more hair and it gathered in the sink on a towel that he’d draped there.  Grey-violet eyes turned on Sephiroth.

“If you’re going to stand here in the bathroom, the least you could do is wash the grease out of your hair so you don’t look like the professor about to pop off another shitty theory.”    Zack’s tone was unlike him--too aggressive.  Sephiroth fell quiet as if he were considering something in Zack’s words. The scissors continued to snip away.

Off came the coat.  Then, the gloves, the boots, and then the pants.  Sephiroth had thrown his garments so hard the belts hit the wall with a bang. 

Zack flinched, nearly cutting himself.

Still, the pair had been used to sharing a space.  This wasn't the first time Zack had snapped on him.  It was definitely not the last time, either.

Zack continued to work in silence and Sephiroth got in the shower.  The steam from the hot water became vanilla scented.

They exchanged no words until Zack had picked up a razor.  

“We have a lot to talk about but until I have a hint of normality--ouch, oh fuck--”  Zack dabbed at his bleeding cheek with his thumb. “--I don’t have the mental space to handle any of this.”

“Does this really help?”  Came the question from the shower stall.  

“Hm? Yelling at you or shaving?”  Zack replied, tipping his head to one side as he shaved his jaw.  Zack chuckled. "'Cause yelling at you definitely makes me feel better.  Shallow as that sounds."

"I meant shaving."

He inspected the skin near his scar.  "Okay, listen: have I ever worn a beard in my life? No.  Besides, this isn't even a good beard.  It’s been growing for like, what, years?  And it’s still patchy!  I want a refund.  I’m kinda pissed.”

There was a rumble of what might have been a chuckle from the other side of the shower stall.  Zack elected to ignore it.

“It helps me feel like me, I guess.”  Zack’s tone started to relax as he worked on the other side of his face.  “Besides, even if I grew it out well, it would make me look like my dad. I hate that.”

Sephiroth hummed in reply to that.

“That's better…” Came the sigh, finally, as he put the razor back on the sink.  

Zack tucked his hair behind his ear and looked at the reflection of the man in the mirror.  The tension came out of his own shoulders.  He’d changed a bit over time. He had a couple of grey strands in his hair, which he supposed was fine. His face was a little tired, a little sharper.  He’d lost a bit of weight.  His eyes were more violet and less blue--arguably they weren’t even blue at all.  The curve of his mouth was slightly different because his teeth didn’t set the way they used to.

He looked a little different now, but he was still definitely Zack Fair.

Taking his uniform shirt from the bathroom floor, he held it up.  The light showed through the holes. 

Determining it unusable, Zack balled it up and threw it in the garbage. 

“I was under the impression you’d be more upset with me.”  Sephiroth finally said. 

“Oh, I’m furious with you,” Zack said, in his light way of saying things.  “But you’re being remarkably reasonable lately.  Obviously I have to stick around to see what you’re planning. I’m guessing you need me for other things, yeah?”

"Perhaps, yes.”  There was a moment of silence.  Zack watched the shape of Sephiroth’s arms raise as he rinsed out his hair.   They were strong and familiar, silhouetted behind the white plastic fabric of the shower curtain.

“I wanted someone to help me heal the world,”  Sephiroth said.

“Weird way of doing it--” Zack sighed. “ But I know you have your reasons.  Don’t like em but--”

Zack’s head darted from around the shower curtain.  He looked at Sephiroth, tired.  “This time I’ll make sure you don’t fuck things up.”  The corner of Zack’s mouth pulled up, as if he were teasing.  His eyes were remarkably dull.  

Zack was forcing himself to be playful.  The smile faded too quickly for this exhausted SOLDIER to be Zack Fair.   When they'd first met, Zack had surprised Sephiroth in a number of ways but his behavior always looped back to this fake attitude when he was upset. 

For some reason, Zack never liked to show anyone that he was sad.

Sephiroth had only ever seen Zack’s falsified smile for the months that lingered after Angeal’s death.  It had been so hard to look at that Sephiroth had let himself shrink away from Zack’s side until Zack had figured his own emotions out.

Sephiroth couldn’t afford to do that this time. He couldn’t let Zack have the space that he so obviously needed.

“Zack,” Sephiroth said quietly. 

Zack’s response was wordless.  He tipped his head to one side.

“You are the only person on this Planet that understands,” Sephiroth said. “That’s why you were looking for me. That's why I need you.”

Zack’s gaze lingered on Sephiroth’s face.  Then, the neutrality of Zack’s expression shattered like glass.  Violet-grey eyes, once the color of the clear blue sky were filled with guilt and pain.  “Yeah,” Zack said after a moment.  “If no one else is here for you, I will be.”  

Sephiroth’s hand reached for Zack’s and the raven-haired ex-SOLDIER pulled away.  The suddenness of it all, seemed to shock Zack. He wasn’t afraid of Sephiroth. Hell, he was willing to support him to the end of time.  Yet--there were parts of him that wouldn’t allow the warmth.  Not yet. 

Zack rubbed his hand through his dark hair and gave one of his token apologetic smiles.  

“Sorry, I--”  Zack turned then, catching the eye of someone standing in the hallway.  He seemed to brighten on instinct, his mask of cheerful behavior clapping over his grief like a personal shield.   “--Cloud!”

The blond looked at Zack with an even greater disbelief than he had before.  It was as if the blond were truly making eye-contact with a ghost.  “You--” he stammered.  The man in front of him was no longer some unruly stranger they’d dug up out of the dirt.

This was actually Zack Fair.  Sunshine smile and all. 

Zack rubbed his hands on his own cheeks, proud about his clean-shaven face.

“I look way better, yeah?  I think so, at least.” Cloud hadn't been given time to answer. Zack seemed to talk all in one breath, his energy throwing the conversation into hyperspeed.   “Gotta figure out what to do with the hair, though--”  He pinched the dark spikes with his fingers to show off the matting.  "Ended up breaking a brush." He wasn’t really in the mood to lop it off.  Everyone knew that Zack despised haircuts. He'd been that way since he was fifteen. Cloud even paid him a sympathetic glance.

“Tifa definitely has another brush you can--”  Cloud hesitated, his head tipping to one side as he assessed the damage.  “--have.”

Zack laughed, the warm sound filling the space.  “Whatever works.  If it comes down to it, I’ll, well--”  He held up two fingers and snipped them together.  Even while playing it off, Zack’s face went pale.

It was Cloud’s turn to laugh.  “Do you need anything else, though?  Or does--uh--”

Sephiroth remained silent as he turned off the water.

“We’re fine--!” Zack chirped quickly, tucking one arm around Cloud’s waist and practically pushing him out of his and Sephiroth’s shared space.  “Vincent gave me some clothes and Sephiroth and I are the same size--kinda--so we’re okay!”  As Zack whisked Cloud out of the bathroom, he shut the door behind them both so they stood in the hallway alone.

Cloud’s gaze drifted over Zack’s shoulders and he took in the spiderwebs of scarring that trailed all the way to Zack’s stomach.  

Zack ducked his head to get in the way of Cloud’s inspection. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“‘Nothing’,” Zack sighed.  He put his hands on his hips.  His pleasant expression cracked, the corners of his lips pulling down.  Then, the sadness left in an instant.  “So, anyway--!”

“Tseng is coming here,” Cloud blurted.  “ShinRa says he wants to make amends.”

“Nah,”  Zack said, brushing by him.  He went into the spare room and picked up the black button-down shirt on the bed.

“Nah?  What do you mean ‘nah’?  Zack, this isn’t optional--”

“Call it what it really is, Clow,” Zack said, pulling the shirt over his shoulders. “What’s he going to do, really?”    

“The Turks don’t believe you two are who you say you are.  Specifically you and I. Neither you, me, or him are allowed to leave until they have proof.”

Zack sighed.  “There it is.  I wonder what they’re going to do this time.”

Chapter Text

ShinRa had sent someone specifically from their intelligence department to handle this case.  Tseng was not far behind, but the man that now sat at her bar was more than confident enough to start the process of testing Zack and Sephiroth without any extra aid from the Turks.  The employee himself was an average type of man that you’d see on the street every day.  His hair was a light reddish brown that would have been thick and wavy if he hadn’t kept it cropped short on the back and sides.  He allowed just a bit of length on the top of his head that he’d tousled and pushed off to one side.

He had a spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks.  Instead of the suit that Tifa had expected of a Turk, he wore a thick, light brown cable knit sweater and distressed jeans. His dark green eyes glowed bright even in the dimness of the bar. It was obvious that this man used to be SOLDIER.  Yet, he looked as if he should be working part time in the library.  The bookish man was dressed for comfort--not for tactic.

When asked, he said he shouldn’t give his name because it would interfere with the test.  That being said, in that moment there was a fleeting sense of anxiety in his expression as he settled on the stool at the bar.  He chewed on his thumbnail as he waited for Zack.

The barmaid smiled. “Cloud said he’ll bring him down.” She disappeared and quickly returned from the kitchen with a small bowl of mashed potatoes and a plate of plain toast. 

Placing it on the bar, her gaze flicked up to the stairs.  Worry grazed her expression and her brows formed a gentle upward slope.  It whisked away in an instant so she could focus on her customer.  “Would you like anything to drink? It’s on the house.”

“These days, I try not to drink liquor too much--” he said, rubbing the nape of his neck.  “Do you have any coffee?”

Tifa had never seen him before, but he spoke to her with a gentle familiarity. The corners of his mouth softly turned upward to make his expression gentle and kind.

  “I’ll make something fresh.” She told him, smiling.  “Do you take it with cream and sugar?”  

The man shook his head.  “Just with sugar.”  He clicked his pen as his gaze poured over the paperwork in front of him.  

“Hojo was conducting a series of trials on one of Jenova’s main traits in Ancient lore.” He explained.  “According to the last Ancient that ShinRa was able to study fully, Jenova had the capability to mimic the memories of her prey and mirror physical and mental traits.  It was a dangerous talent."

Tifa hummed, leaning her elbows on the counter once she put the new pot on.  The smell of fresh coffee filled the room.  “So she was like a shapeshifter,” she said.  

“Exactly.” He clicked his pen once again and looked down at the piece of paper before him.  “ShinRa has known Sephiroth can mimic for awhile.  And Cloud, well, you know, he's had a documented history of mental mimicry too. Obviously, this is why there are some major doubts in the Zack Fair you’ve got upstairs in your bathroom.  He might not be Zack at all! He could just be Sephiroth forcing an illusion--or even Cloud--over exerting himself a bit too far.  And if that’s the case, we should really start to worry.” 

“Thankfully, this is a very easy test!” He said, cheerfully rubbing his hand through his hair. It stuck up in fluffy peaks all over his head.  “All Zack needs to do is prove that he has knowledge that neither Cloud nor Sephiroth has!  Likewise, Sephiroth should be able to do the same.  Cloud--well--” the man tipped his head right to left.  “I think I’ll keep an eye out for Cloud’s emotional reactions.”  He hummed. “Yeah…” he said to himself.  “I think I should be able to recognize those changes…”

“You really think it’ll be that easy?”  Tifa asked.  

The man grinned with a wonderfully pleasant smile as he rested his cheek on his hand. “I absolutely do,” he said.  Then he pointed to his face.  “Out of the three of them, Zack’s the only one who’d recognize me--at least, the only one who would recognize me right away.  It’ll take ten seconds max for me to decide if he’s the real deal.”

Zack’s voice came from upstairs.  The man at the bar got quiet as he looked up, his calm expression shifting to something slightly excited, slightly panicked.

“I don’t wanna be poked at, prod at, bribed--”  Zack said.  He was dressed fully in black.  Like ugly funeral attire, it dragged down Zack's typically sunny disposition.  The baggy shirt and pants hung on his frame.  He’d lost so much weight and muscle.  His face was narrow, his hair long, lanky, and chaotic.  He was in a bad mood, obviously.   His gaze zeroed in on the test giver.  His eyes narrowed.

The test giver stopped breathing for a second.

Then, Zack’s whole demeanor instantly changed for the better. 

“Kunsel!” he cried out happily as his arms spread wide.  Leaping down the last five stairs, Zack’s balance offset and when he teetered downward quickly.  He caught himself on the floor, his posture suddenly springing upright. Then, he launched himself into the other man on the barstool, his arms twining around Kunsel's shoulders and squeezing him close.

“Dude!  Dude!”  Zack held the man with both of his palms on either side of his face.  “You cut your hair!  You haven’t had it this short since boot!”  He tipped the other man’s head in his hands with disbelief before ruffling both of his hands through the style and sending it into total chaos.  Zack was shamelessly handsy.  “What are you wearing by the way?  You look like a geezer.”  Zack rubbed the sleeve and hummed.  It was soft. 

“See?” Kunsel looked up at Tifa, smug.  ‘Pass,’ he mouthed. 

He hadn’t doubted his gut instinct for a second.  “Hey, Zack--! Oof--” 

Strong arms wrapped around Kunsel’s middle and he was in danger of being yanked off the barstool.  From the looks of Zack’s purple eyes, it appeared that all of the mako had been sapped from his body.  The sheer amount of strength Zack had said otherwise.  Though, even in basic training, Zack had always acted as if he were being hurtled through a cannon.  He had always been careening toward his goals with enough power to knock a grown man off his feet.

Zack was talking a mile a minute, tucking his face into the crook of Kunsel's neck. “Kunsel, I’m going out of my mind right now!  Can you believe they’re trying to--”  his eyes narrowed.  “Wait a second. Pass--? Wait. Huh?”

“Good ears! I’m your test,” Kunsel said, turning back to the bar.  “You’re the only SOLDIER left who’d really recognize me without the helmet.  Well, you and Roche.  I don’t think Luxiere cares enough to remember.”

“Shiva’s frosty-ass tits.”  Zack tossed his hair out of his eyes, unaffected.  “But you’re still in SOLDIER, yeah?  That's still a thing?”

“Of course,” Kunsel said easily.  “Someone needed to finish what you were trying to start.”

Zack’s expression brightened while any sign of stress in his body absolutely melted.  “Did you make rank?” He asked quickly.

Kunsel smiled.

“First Class?” Zack asked happily.  Kunsel’s grin only got bigger.  Zack’s energy absolutely flourished in front of him.  “Holy shit K, that’s amazing!"  He whirled back to the bar, tapping the counter to get the barmaid's attention.   “Tifa!  Tifa, this is Kunsel !  We were roommates in the ‘Oh my God they were roommates’ sense.”

Kunsel sighed, trying to smooth his messy hair.  “We were roommates in the ‘actually they were only just roommates’ sense.”  

“Lies!” Zack said, tipping his head back dramatically.  “He’s lying!  Tifa, he’s lying! You never let me add any flavor to my life, K.”  Zack sat on the barstool next to the other, letting his head rest on Kunsel’s shoulder.  Kunsel seemed more than happy to let this happen, the corner of his mouth lifting as he looked at the stack of papers under his hands.  Then, carefully, as if Zack would fade away in an instant, Kunsel put his palm atop Zack’s head.  

“You seem like you’ve got plenty of flavor already.” Kunsel sighed, rubbing his hand through Zack’s tangled mass of hair.  “Let yourself be ordinary for a minute.”

When Tifa gave Kunsel his coffee, he smiled in thanks and worked on filling out the paperwork while Zack watched.  Every once in a while, Kunsel would pause and ask Zack what his last name was, or his birthday, or his old employee ID.  Zack would answer, not quite lifting his head from it’s position.  The answers came easily.

Zack was comfortable and happy.  

Tifa watched in amazement at how the age came off of Zack’s body and face.  It was amazing how quickly Zack went back to being only eighteen years old when he was with Kunsel.  Any sense of maturity went out of him.  Zack was the young SOLDIER First Class that she remembered from the first time they met in Nibelheim. He was playful and affectionate--and he treasured his friends fully.

Tifa couldn’t help but imagine them as they might have been when they were younger.  Zack, round-faced with big eyes; and Kunsel with his wavy copper hair creeping down over his eyes and neck.  They’d probably gotten into heaps of trouble--things that were probably Zack’s fault that Kunsel couldn’t discourage.  Looking at Zack this way reminded Tifa a lot of Aerith.  Aerith had always been full of laughter, jokes, and unabashed affection.  If Zack was this loving toward Kunsel, Tifa had to wonder how he must have been toward Aerith back when they’d dated.  She shook the thoughts out of her mind.

“Oh, Zack,”  Tifa said, pushing the plate of toast and mashed potatoes towards him.  “It’s not much, but I figured you were probably hungry.  I didn’t want you to get sick, so it’s pretty plain for now.  Maybe in a few days, we can actually have a big meal together.” 

Zack sat up, his hair sticking up on one side.  “Yeah?” he said, his expression wide-eyed and hopeful.  Zack’s smile had dimples that curved softly into his cheeks. “I’d love that.”  As he tasted the potatoes, he rested his cheek on his hand and smiled in the same way Kunsel did.  Now, t hose two were similar!  She had to admire the quiet happiness the pair shared when they were together.  

“So,” Kunsel asked.  “How do you feel?”  He clicked his pen again and looked up at Zack.

“Well, I mean--”  Zack sat up straighter and the age became more apparent on his face.  “I guess I'm full of holes.  And--” he swept his hand across his whole body head to toe.  “This isn’t a good look, exactly…”  Zack rocked back on the barstool, his knotted hair swinging away from his back.  In those years he’d been gone, some of the longest spikes touched the waist of his pants as he sat forward again.  “I know, with time, it’ll get better.  It always does, but...ugh, can I vent?”

Kunsel nodded.

“I can’t get over that Sephiroth just--”  Zack said, before silencing himself.

There was too much that Sephiroth did.  

Zack’s fist hit the counter.  The spoon clanked on his plate.  He took a breath and restarted from another standpoint. 

“Everything is so out of whack.  I mean, I'm supposed to be dead!” He began, “And the kids, they’re not supposed to be sick--”  

Zack shook his head.  “--The Geostigma, it’s--” then, the next words came as a biting sound,  “--Cloud’s sick!  And then there’s that thing with Aerith--”  

Zack’s playful demeanor was crumbling before their eyes as he let his own emotions bubble to the surface.  

“You’re overwhelmed,”  Kunsel said, his tone understanding and soft.  His hand rubbed a circle on Zack’s back.

Zack smacked the counter with the palm of his hand, but he didn’t shrink away from Kunsel’s touch.  Kunsel was right.  Things were overwhelming.

Frustration, sadness, and anger tore into Zack’s voice.  “It was difficult to leave her behind.  Y-you know?”  His tone wobbled and he looked down.  “Every time, she smiles and waves me on and it hurts so much that I can’t stand it.”  The silence in the bar that followed was deafening. Zack’s brows muddled together as he held up two fingers.  Guilt was evident in his tone. “...I’ve done it twice now…More than twice.  Gods, it feels like I’ve done it to her a million times.”

So Zack knew about Aerith.  He knew about how she died.  No one needed to tell him.  He’d processed all of that news by himself already.

She could see it in his eyes as he looked down at the counter.  Zack knew it all. 

She wondered how he felt.  Had he watched them from a distance, unable to change the course of fate?  Or did he feel relief when Aerith came home to him? Tifa’s heart ached as she watched his face look more and more tired in the course of seconds.

Still, Zack was here, giving Sephiroth only anger and no forgiveness--but still giving him time.  Zack was being patient.  When it had been time for Zack to wash up, Sephiroth had gone upstairs and into Zack’s space too.  Zack had spoken with him.  She’d heard the conversation from downstairs.  Zack had been loud, but Zack had been kind.

Why was Zack of all people showing that man any kindness?

What had Sephiroth done to deserve his kindness?  What had Sephiroth done to deserve any of their kindness?

“We’ve been tailing Cloud,” Kunsel said.  “And you, technically. Weren’t you using him to pursue Sephiroth in this world?”

“I couldn’t talk to Sephiroth directly in the Lifestream.  He wasn’t there.  He was here.  Cloud was sick and I was getting desperate to solve things quickly.” Zack admitted, putting his hands against his arms where he’d once felt the bite of Geostigma.  “I couldn’t let Cloud die.”  The words were careful and sad.  “So I borrowed him.” Rubbing his hand against his cheek he laughed coldly.  “Guess The Professor’s shitty theory was right.  Jenova let me tap right in.”

A chill ran up Kunsel’s spine.  “Ah...I see.”  The implications of those words hung in the air.  What was Zack? There was no doubt in Kunsel's mind of who he was.  What had he become, though?

Zack hadn’t realized exactly the depth of what he had said.  Suddenly, he began to quickly speak while shooting an apologetic look to Tifa for using Cloud’s body.  “But using him was supposed to be temporary! I didn’t have a body to go back to!  At least, I didn’t think I did.”   How was he supposed to know he hadn't decomposed? “Sephiroth made this permanent by putting me back in here. I can’t go back now!”  Zack tapped his chest quickly.  “This is me.  This is my body.”  Zack took a breath as if he were affirming that to be true.  “I’m not actually sure if I can even leave it this time. But--I know that I'm not supposed to be here.”

“What does that mean?  You ‘can’t leave it?’”  Kunsel’s question only resulted in a panicked sideways glance from Zack.

“That’s a heavy question.”  Zack went quiet and he took a moment to think while eating a spoonful of mashed potatoes.  “I have a job to do here,” Zack answered.  

“Do you want to leave it?” he asked.  

 Zack shrugged. “I can’t leave it.”

“Zack, that’s not what I asked.  Second chances like this aren’t given out like candy!  You’re alive--that’s--it’s a miracle!"  Kunsel’s green eyes bore into him, his gentle expression breaking into a thousand pieces of desperation as he looked for that answer from Zack that he wanted to hear.  

Zack’s violet eyes flicked up at him, hurting.

It was at that moment that Kunsel leaned back.  He tugged on his short bangs, as if he could pull them over his face if he yanked hard enough.  “Zack, I’m  sorry.  I feel like I was going crazy til I heard you were home again.  I--I just…”  He swallowed.  The whites of his eyes tinted lightly with pink as he blinked.  It was evident that grief had been too much for Kunsel to bear at times too.

“I want to be alive,” Zack said.  His hand reached to lightly touch his friend's shoulder.  "I do." 

Kunsel looked up. 

“And I want to get really old.” Zack continued.  “Old as dirt. With creaking bones and  baggy leather skin that’s practically like sagging off of me.  And I wanna have a huge family with a ton of kids.  I want to eat crappy food.  I want to kiss people on the first date.  And feel cold when it rains.” As he laughed, he could feel his throat growing warmer.  The consistency of his voice became like syrup.  He had to swallow down the lumps it formed as he spoke.  “I want to live.  So much.”  When the tears came, he let them fall.  “Don’t doubt that, K,” Zack said, touching his palm to the back of the other man’s hand.  “I missed being here. I’m glad I’m home.  It’s just...a lot to adjust to.”

Kunsel sniffled and laughed. 

“Look at you--sobbing into your mashed potatoes.”

Zack flung a spoonful in Kunsel’s general direction, to which Tifa quickly snatched the spoon out of Zack’s hand. The blob of potatoes landed unceremoniously next to Kunsel’s papers.

“Not in the bar!” She warned.  

The sunniest smile washed over Zack’s face.  “Sorry!  But uh--”  Zack rubbed his hand over the hair at the nape of his neck.  “I think I need to explain what happened while I was gone to you a bit more….uh, later?  Let's go out."

Kunsel nodded, his eyes following Zack as he planted his hands on the bar and pushed himself up from his seat.  “D’you want me to grab Sephiroth for his test?” Zack asked. “He’s got a test, too, right?”

It was Tifa’s turn to be firm.  “No,” she said suddenly.  “Zack, you need to stay here and eat.  I’ll get Sephiroth.”  The tone of her voice caused the dark-haired man to plop back down on his butt.    

“Actually,” Kunsel started, watching Zack sullenly pick up his spoon to eat his supper.  “I’m not qualified to give the test to Sephiroth.  We need someone present who has never personally interacted with him before.  Do you know anyone?”

Tifa tapped her chin.  “Well, Vincent and Yuffie--” she said.  “But I don’t think Vincent is your best candidate for talking to Sephiroth.”

“How come?” Zack asked.

She shook her head in response, not supplying Zack an answer.  Instead, she turned to Kunsel.  “Yuffie should be upstairs with Vincent.  She'll probably be okay to do it."

For his test, Sephiroth was kept separated from the group.  Yuffie had certainly kept things as casual as possible, dragging the worn out desk chair on creaking wheels over to the bedside.  Sephiroth sat on the edge of the bed and watched her fumble with the pages upon pages of Kunsels notes and questions that he had been expected to ask.  

“I can’t believe the SOLDIER department is still functional--” she mumbled, chewing on the cap of Kunsel’s extra pen.  “No offence, Sephy.”

Sephiroth visibly winced.

Yuffie jotted down a note of that.  Then, she circled it and slapped the pen back down on the clipboard.

Sephiroth’s hair was still wet from his shower, the strands leaving wet streaks on the worn out black shirt that Vincent had lent to him.  The buttons were haphazardly done, and Sephiroth had only elected to close the lower three buttons, leaving the rest of his chest exposed.  Yuffie’s eyes lingered on the milky exposed skin for a long time before she turned back to her clipboard and made another note.

Sephiroth couldn’t even begin to guess what she’d thought was important enough to write down.

“Let’s begin!"  She said, “What’s your full name?”

“It’s just Sephiroth.”

“Seriously?”  Her nose scrunched.

The silver-haired general stared her down for a long time, his face expressionless.  Then, he looked away and with a long, exhausted sigh.  “ Seriously .”  He leaned forward to rest his chin on his hand.

“Okay!  When’s your birthday?”

“I don’t know.”  When Yuffie’s expression fell, Sephiroth added, “Zack had a day that he liked to celebrate it on. Sometime in Autumn, I think.”

“Oh, cool.”  She wrote that down.  “Uh…SOLDIER ID number?”

Sephiroth recited the eleven-digit code as if he’d done it every day of his life.

Yuffie wrote that down, too.  

She looked down at the page in front of her and grumbled at the dozens of boring questions that she would need to ask this man.  She put the cap back on Kunsel’s pen, put the clipboard down, and brought her legs up into the chair with her.  Maybe she could make things more interesting.  Maybe she could get some answers that she really wanted to hear.

“Why did they do it?” She asked.  “Why did they do that to Wutai?”  Yuffie’s voice kept level, but for some reason, Sephiroth couldn’t bring himself to look her in the face.  

“Wutai was the last thing preventing ShinRa from total world control.”  He answered, as if reciting from a book.  They had both known that answer.

“Did you ever feel bad about, y’know, uh…”

“ShinRa’s victory?”  Sephiroth looked up, sensing that Yuffie would not like his answer.  He shook his head but let his gaze fix right on her.

“I didn’t care one way or the other.”

Her heart dropped. 

“I see…” She swallowed, her hand reaching down to the warm orb of levelled thunder materia in her pocket.  She had kept it on her person just in case things took a bad turn. SOLDIER’s General still sat on the bed in front of her, his chin in his hand.  He looked seemingly defenseless. Yuffie knew better than to test that, though.  If she needed it, would Thundaga even be enough?  “There were a lot of people that died…” she said.  “Did you feel the same apathy when it came to Aerith?”

A chill ran down his spine at the mention of The Ancient.  He looked up, a strange unhuman glow to his eyes.  

It wasn’t like how she remembered Zack’s warm mako glow.  It wasn’t at all like Cloud’s either.  Sephiroth’s pupils were slits, cold and unfeeling.  

“Yes.”

Yuffie’s fingers closed tightly on her orb of materia as a swell of panic filled her chest.  She knew that she must not show fear.  She felt body shake under Sephiroth’s unyielding gaze.  He didn’t move.  He didn’t blink.  She felt like a field mouse standing in front of a barn cat.    Her voice found bravery before she did.  “You’ll regret doing all of that, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth’s pupils became round and small again. His attention seemed to be somewhere away from Yuffie’s face, focused and a child’s drawing of Cloud on the back wall.  The blond scribble made up of yellow and blue crayon frowned back at him.  “I know,” Sephiroth said.

The tension dissipated. She hesitated, watching his face shift from calculated monster to discouraged human, then back again, and back again.  Each time his pupils would snap narrow, then round.  They would do it again.  He didn’t flinch when it happened, it was almost what appeared to be a mental shift.  At one moment, he would be sharp and hard, neutral, unwavering, with a powerful gaze.  Then, he was uncertain.  Aloof.  Maybe shy?  It seemed that there were two men in front of her, both fighting for use of the body.

“Sephy?” She tested.  Sephiroth winced again with annoyance. His attention would go to the wall behind her, or the strands of her hair.  He slouched a little.

“Mn?” he answered.

Even tones, playful questions.  Nothing too heavy.  Yuffie’s eyes lingered on the brush of wet strands dampening spots on Sephiroth’s shoulders.

“Have you ever wanted to cut your hair?” she blurted.

What a childish question.  Surprised at the sudden abrupt change to the path of the conversation, he blinked a few times before quietly shaking his head.  “I have never cut it.”

“But, no, did you ever want to??  Or did baby Sephy just wanna be unique?” She teased.

“Please stop.” 

He sighed again, his brows knitting together as he put genuine thought towards her question.  Sephiroth leaned forward, pressing his weight against his knees.  Silver bangs slipped across his cheeks, falling into his line of vision.  Had he ever wanted to?  He could assume that the answer was ‘no.’  Surely, he would've changed it otherwise.

Yuffie laughed, finally taking her hand away from the orb of materia in her pocket. She knew that Sephiroth used to be known by millions all over the Planet for his pretty hair.  Like him or not, the man’s look was iconic, even in Wutai. Sephiroth might be telling her one thing, but the reason his hair was never cut was probably because Sephiroth’s public image had been considered more important than Sephiroth himself at one point.

“It’s not so bad to look like the rest of your group.  Is it?” She said.  “I mean, Zack used to look basic as hell and everyone and their mother loved him anyway.”

“You knew Zack?”  Sephiroth’s brows arched upward.  It seemed as if she had told him a fact he had not known. 

“Oh, yeah!”  She chirped, adjusting herself in the chair.  “Zack was great!  We went on so many treasure hunts together when I was a kid!  I don’t think he remembers me, though.  It’s okay--he’ll recognize me eventually.”  She took a breath, reaching back down for Kunsel’s clipboard.  “Anyway, I think--”  she turned the page of Kunsel’s notes over to attempt writing down something with a different approach.  “It’s worth considering the change of pace. Of course, if you want to. Nobody will tell you no now.”

“That was never an issue.”

“Whatever, Seph.”  If anything, Yuffie was curious to see what Sephiroth would do with that suggestion. “I mean, do what you want to do.”

He pinched his fingers over the wet rope of hair that hung over his shoulder.  “Any other questions?”

“Tell me about your friends,” she grinned.  “Did you have any?”

“Three, including Zack.”

"Great!"  Yuffie brightened at the sound of that.  She folded her legs underneath her in the chair so quickly that it turned a bit.  She scooted forward by wiggling so she could look at Sephiroth directly again. “What were the other two’s names?”

Sephiroth’s brows furrowed.  When he attempted to picture them in his mind’s eye, they seemed like a blur standing far off in the distance.  It was like looking through fog.   Sephiroth knew they were there.  When he attempted to recall names or their personalities, he was met with nothing but a headache.

Finally he shook his head.  “Zack would know,” he said, thoughtfully.  “Sorry.”

“You can’t remember!” Yuffie said, shocked.  "Weren't they like your best friends??"

Sephiroth’s expression fell further into something that bordered the line of grief and it squeezed at her heart just a bit too hard.  It wasn’t a wonder Zack was giving this guy every scrap of patience he had!  This was actually really sad!  “That’s okay!" Yuffie said quickly.  "Don’t think too hard about it.  It was a long time ago.  Probably.”  She reached to pat his shoulder and he pulled back once she made contact.

“Probably.”  Green eyes with round pupils flicked to the place where she’d touched.  So far, only Zack had laid a finger on him.  The tension in Sephiroth’s shoulders dropped.

Yuffie bit down on her lip.  “Did you have any hobbies? From before?”

Sephiroth squeezed his eyes shut.  He tried to remember--he tried to trace anything back.  In his mind, he recalled his fingers frantically flipping through page after page of blurry medical journals, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach.

“Books,” Sephiroth lied.  “I liked books.”