Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The constant construction had slowed somewhat in this part of Edge. Every time Cloud came home after a delivery run or visits away from the city, he came back to a quieter street and a healthier one at that. Marlene and Tifa—along with some survivors from Sector 5 with ample support from Reeve—had started some community gardens and green spaces to try and bring some life back to the wastes. A lot of his deliveries recently had him stopping between Edge and the Grasslands for supplies. Didn’t bring in much money, but oh well. Anything for the kids, was his mantra every time he tied down another sack of topsoil to Fenrir or cradled a new seedling.

The garden Avalanche and their neighbors started in the backlot between their apartments was the first in Edge. Cloud had built a shed back here for storing and working on Fenrir initially; however, now it was just as much a communal space for storing all the gardening equipment. Nanaki had been the biggest help given he had knowledge how to grow things in an arid place. They still had to import a lot of aid from Kalm, but each passing year gave them more yams, millet, and other staples that could keep much of the block fed and that was enough. Between WRO and the help from Cosmo Canyon, Edge became a little less hellish to live in every single day.

Pulling into the shed, Cloud cut power to Fenrir and smiled at the small buds of the flowers growing on the window sill. They were little yellow ones. Somehow he ended up with old seeds in his bedroll while living at the Church and never noticed, yet Marlene did and insisted they had to try growing the flowers. He brushed a finger over one the delicate leaves. It had been many years since…well, everything. Each day had gotten better. A little easier. “You would’ve loved to watch them grow up…” Cloud whispered to the flowers.

The way his heart clenched whenever he thought of Aerith also grew lighter with time. Less constriction in his chest. Even if he still felt it as his gloved fingers caressed the velvet petals. The want for her to be here, alive, and getting to do all the little mundane things the world had to offer was still so strong, and perhaps that loss would never really leave. But she asked him to live . Said she was happy despite it all. In the water, Cloud finally believed both things could be possible. So after Advent Day, he did try to live, and—despite it all—he thought he could finally grasp what peace felt like again.

Cloud huffed to himself and finally pulled away from the flowers. There wasn’t any reason to linger when he had people waiting for him. He untied a small package from the back then slid it under his arm before leaving to lock up the shed. Outside, the air was cool like it always was during wasteland nights. The moon hung as a silver sliver in the sky past the ever growing metropolis and lit the murals groups of kids and teens were painting to brighten up their little ramshackle of the a city. If Cloud listened close he could hear a faint hum of cicadas. Or maybe that was the thrum of the lifestream as it attempted to heal this scar upon the land. Reeve recently found a way to clean the mako pools of all the “treatments” and now it was a matter of ‘returning what was taken’ or so he and Bugenhagen said. There was a little more hope that everything they did hadn’t been for nothing.

Cloud meandered through the garden. Taking stock of everything currently growing and if he’d need to phone Oliver for anything in the morning. Nothing was browning or seemed singed. Each box contained a different set of crops that grew well together. ‘Brothers and sisters’ Nanaki had called them. The water pump also seemed to be doing a lot better with the more frequent rainfall the wastes had been getting.

Spices and the savory smell of ribs was the first thing that greeted him once he walked in from the back door. Laughter and conversation flowed in from the main bar area. Seemed like everyone wanted to eat down here rather than in the living room upstairs then. Cloud smirked at the deep cadence and booming voice which rose above all the others. Barret had come home today while he’d been out. He secured the package tighter so it didn’t jingle and move as quietly as he could around the corner—wanting to listen for as long as he could before needing to pick a space to fill. Tifa spoke quietly and away from the group. So, she was probably around the bar.

Peaking around the corner, Cloud saw his family gathered around a larger round-table at the center of the bar. Barret was the only extra one here tonight; it’d still be a few weeks before everyone got together again for a holiday coming up. Tifa was, indeed, back behind the counter pouring a chilled drink into a glass. There was a small feast of ribs and fries piled up on plates at the center of the table for everyone to pick at. Marlene and Denzel were clinging to Barret’s side while he regaled them with one of the more fun stories from their travels. Nestled in a chair was Chadley reading one of his new books Cloud brought home from Kalm. Their android was the first to look his way; his face instantly lighting up. “Cloud! It’s a relief to see you finally home!”

“Well I’ll be!” Barret placed his elbow down on the table to lean forward. “I thought I heard you roll in, was getting worried you’d be gone til tomorrow.”

Smirking, Cloud tilted his head back and finally let himself enter the bar. “Nope. You gotta deal with me for the long haul.”

“Well shit. As-if I haven’t been dealing with your ass for the past six years.” Barret’s eyes were light as he leveled a smirk in Cloud’s direction. He waved him closer. “Get in here and sit before the food gets cold.”

Tifa had been extravagant with the candles tonight, and a fire crackled in the small stone fireplace on the right wall, so the bar had a warm, cheerful mood to it. Turning to the bar, Cloud stopped to give Tifa a hug and deposit the package onto the counter. She wrapped him tight with one arm whilst holding onto the glass she was drying. “Not gonna eat?” Cloud asked.

She shook her head. “Already did. Kids wanted to wait for you to get home.”

“What did you bring, Cloud?” Denzel shouted over from the table.

Casting a glance down at the box, then back to the boy, Cloud smirked and drummed his fingers against it. If anyone was gonna be excited about what was in it, it’d be Denzel. Marlene a very close second. He maneuvered until he was standing to cut-off their view; then looked around as-if he was utterly confused Cloud held out his hands. “What box? Did I bring a box home? Must have been a parcel I forgot to deliver or something…”

Barret guffed and rolled his eyes. But he didn’t put a stop to Cloud’s fun, so he must be in a pretty good mood tonight. Denzel’s face pulled into a humorous mirror of Tifa’s ‘angry look’— or so the kids put it—and he opened his mouth to say something else when Chadley placed down his book. “By my estimations, you did bring something back with you, Cloud,” he responded. “And I believe it is in poor form to make the recipient wait. The curiosity could be too much to bear, you know.”

“Yeah! What Chadley said!” Denzel said. “I’m gonna die if you don’t tell me what it is!”

Marlene was the next to lean forward. She added her own impressive set of puppy dog eyes to Denzel’s imploring ones that almost made Cloud want to concede. “You came back late and aren’t gonna tell us what’s in the box? What if daddy and Tifa say it’s bed time before we get to see?”

Casting another forlorn glance at the box, Cloud briefly considered that possibility right before Tifa touched his arm with a broad smile. She took a quick look at the kids—all three of them were still right up to the edge of their seats like he could ask them to come over any moment—then gestured towards the table again. “I promise he’ll let y’all open it before bed. Isn’t that right, Cloud?”

“Course he is!” Barret said before Cloud could even get his mouth open. His voice took on a softer, lulling tone as he ruffled both Denzel and Marlene’s hair with his real and prosthetic hands. “I wouldn’t send y’all off to bed and not let you see. Though, I know delivery boy hasn’t had anything to eat if he’s been driving all day, so we should let him have at least a little something.”

Neither of the kids looked all that happy, yet they capitulated with a soft ‘okays’ and easily let Barret distract them once again. Cloud released a small breath. Some might’ve called him a little childish, but he wanted to make sure this gift had the right build up—even if it was a small thing. His right hand drifted over his pocket and the little lump hidden in there with a small smile. Even if they knew the box was a gift, he still had a trick up his sleeve. He glanced over at the soft thunk of a glass.

Tifa pushed the crystal a little closer. “Some water. Make sure you wash up.”

“I will,” Cloud said.

She then slid past him and back to the table with her own glass in hand. Cloud paused with the glass pressed to his lips so he could watch his family converse a little longer. Four years since Advent Day—six since Meteorfall—and there wasn’t a day that went by anymore where he didn’t send a quiet thanks to Freyr for the peace and keeping everyone together. Even if it was hard to fully accept at times. The faint, horrid promise of his memories never growing quiet still gave him pause, yet they grew shorter and more faded with each passing day. They were fine. He was fine. Perhaps…his chains were finally broken like Fenrir promised they could be.

The water was blessedly cool on his throat, and each sip chilled then eased the nerves he got when thinking back on it all. Setting down the glass, he rounded the bar, removed his driving gloves, and washed up. The promise of food finally let him notice the pangs in his stomach. Those ribs and fries smelled even better than they had a few second ago.

Hands finally clean, Cloud finally took the seat between Denzel and Tifa. His kid handed him a tinfoil wrapped plate which had been hiding amongst the fixings, and Cloud smiled at the warmth on the metal as he unwrapped it. “Fýr llanidd,” Cloud said.

Denzel took the opportunity to stumble his way through asking Cloud about his day in Nibelig, and Cloud answered slow and clear while Denzel and Marlene both nodded along. Tifa threaded her fingers through Denzel’s hair while correcting his follow-up question. About a year ago—at Nanaki and Yuffie’s insistent encouragement—Cloud committed to help teach the kids Nibelig. He hadn’t seen the need at first, being so far from the Nibelfolk and barely anyone speaking the tongue in Edge, but hearing all three of the kids saying things in his mother’s tongue…it did feel good. Touch and go as it was, all of them were doing well.

He groaned when he bit into the first of his rack of ribs. They were spiced with a recipe shared between Corel and Nibel—hot then savory with hints of hickory and applewood—and smoked to where the meat fell off bone to melt in one’s mouth. Suddenly feeling his hunger, Cloud scarfed down the first rib. He barely wiped his mouth before grabbing another as the table fell into comfortable conversation. “I’m glad you like the food,” Tifa said before sipping at her drink. “Remember those spices Cid brought as a gift a few weeks ago? I used one of dad’s old recipes with that and I think they turned out perfect.”

Licking the sauce from his lips, Cloud nodded. “Jot down what that mix is. If we can get a deal with Oliver I think these would sell.”

“Ever the bushiness man,” Tifa teased.

There was a humored look in her eyes when she brought her glass back up and Cloud chuckled. “Like you didn’t think of it first, Tif.”

“She was waiting on you to get home,” Denzel said. “With how picky you are over barbecue, if you like them Cloud, anybody would like them.”

Sighing, Cloud wiped off his mouth and fingers while the rest of the table snickered. “I’ll take that as a compliment to having good taste.” He sought out his glass, yet the second he pressed it to his lips one of the many things on his list came back to mind. “Oh yeah, Barret, Mildred wanted me to let you know she’s got the schematics for the windmills down.”

“Oh? Has she now?” Barret said.

“Yeah. With the tweaks Reeve and y’all worked on, she’s gotten Kalm transitioned fully to the windmills for power. Haven’t needed to use the backup generators in about two months, which was the stress test, and she’s gonna get WRO to build them out across the Grasslands again. Or that’s what she told me to tell you.”

“Well, I’ll be! That’s even better than what Reeve was saying!”

“But, Daddy,” Marlene peeped up. “What’s gonna happen to North Corel if we don’t need as much coal? The town just got back up on their feet.”

His gaze turning a bit pensive, Barret thought for a moment before he lightened once again with a more determined look. “You don’t gotta worry about our home, sweetheart. We all knew reopening the mines was gonna be a temporary fix, so we’ve been getting the town self sufficient again—“

“Nanaki and Fellow Bugenhagen?” Chadley asked. He was glancing at something in his monocle with a curious look. “Corel and Cosmo Canyon are both arid environments, if vastly different from one another. Given they’ve assisted us out here in the wastes, I presume they’ve offered their expertise.”

“I was getting to that Chadley. But yeah, them and other towns cross Corel are helping out, and it’s ‘bout damn time on that,” Barret punctuated that by lightly banging a fist against the table.

Tifa and Cloud both raised their glasses. Barret had gone above and beyond for North Corel for the last few years, and it was a town proud to have both Marlene and him again. Even if every corner of Gaia had been changed by Shinra and Meteorfall, people were clawing back their dignity and futures. Finished with his report, Cloud continued to eat while the conversation drifted around him. Marlene and Denzel went into a talking about how Chadley had taken them out to the flower-field on the edge of the Wastelands. While his brows piqued at that, he left Tifa and Barret to triage what the real story was.

Denzel puffed out his chest, clearly proud. “I was responsible! I made sure the take the knife Cloud made for me and helped Chadley keep an eye out for monsters!”

“My maps easily sufficed, but Denzel was indeed a great help,” Chadley said.

Cloud shared a quick glance and smile with Tifa before she went back to commending the boy. He took a quick glance at the package; feeling more secure in his decision. Both Tifa and him had been talking about this for a great many months. Denzel was getting older. While he was still a little kid, Cloud couldn’t deny that fact nor did Denzel ever take kind to them forgetting he used to be a “scrap picker.” The boy is as hard headed as Cloud was when he was younger. Ma and Pa would have been proud seeing him passing on the lesson they gave him, and gods if his Ma wasn’t better than he’d ever given her credit for.

The wistful mood stayed with him while Cloud finished off his plate. Not much of the conversation could pull him out of the rotating thoughts and half-fuzzy memories, and the table seemed to allow him his revelry. Cloud grounded his mind on the wafting scent of the candles. They, too, smelled like the whisper of a long-gone home. Wouldn’t be a coincidence given he picked them up from a different village in Nibel a few months ago on a longer delivery out that way. Only when Tifa rose from the table and the kids followed her did Cloud snap back. He had a few fries left on his plate.

Barret’s larger form drew closer; a serious expression carved onto his face. Lowering the fries back down, Cloud tilted his head then shifted towards his friend while keeping one eye on Tifa and all the kids. His old friend’s face softened a whole lot at Marlene’s delight when Tifa flipped the shaker, and it did not harden when he looked back at Cloud. There was a little more white in his beard and hair then when Cloud had seen him last. Little reminders of how they were getting older, and Cloud was glad now that finally gave him a sense of peace rather than constant dread and loss.

“You doing alright?” Barret asked first.

It was easy for Cloud to nod rather than wince at that question now. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m doing better. Sorry I spaced out.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, and that’s good to hear.” Barret lowered himself even more before his voice dropped to a whisper. “Tifa called and told me what happened a few weeks ago. ‘Bout you being riled into a panic and sitting out in the living room clutching First Ken like Sephiroth was gonna come waltzing through the bar.”

Nervous, Cloud scratched at his left arm. His eyes dropped away from Barret at the memory while he felt at the leathery divot scars of long healed geostigma. It reminded him that everything was fine now. He had survived. Danzel had survived. Gaia yet breathed and her pulse was strong. So what if some nights shadows took on forms and panic spread along his bones? He could live with that for peace. Pushing down the need to deflect, Cloud worked his throat and ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Yeah….yeah. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened that night.”

“You don’t gotta apologize, Cloud. Tifa and the kids were worried ‘bout you. Chadley said he sat with you all night until you finally laid the sword down.”

“I know…”

Barret placed a gentle hand on Cloud’s shoulders and pulled him a little closer. “I ain’t ragging on you. I just wanna make sure you are doing better, kid.”

Cloud huffed. “’Kid?’ You still gonna call me that after I hit 30?”

“Damn straight.”

Everyone else glanced over at the hearty laugh Cloud gave out and he quickly covered his mouth before putting one finger to his lips. Unperturbed, Chadley asked Tifa a question about marketing the non-alcoholic drinks then the attention of was swiftly back off Barret and him. Cloud circled the rim of his glass with a finger. Wondering how he could word this. Barret’s large hand rubbed a few little circles into his back before it retreated so the man could sip at his own drink. “Well it wasn’t…him. I can tell you that much,” Cloud started.

His old friend waited for him to elaborate. Aside from Tifa, and Vincent at times, Barret was still the one he felt most comfortable discussing everything that lingered, and he’d gotten better at listening and leaning on Cloud in turn. Even a year or two ago he’d deny it, yet, now doing so felt ridiculous.

“It was—“ stringing his fingers together, the words died on his lips and he was forced to find new ones to fill their place. “All I was seeing were shadows, I know that now. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something outside—“

“But it wasn’t anything more than a feeling—“

“Yeah that wasn’t what it felt like, Barret!” Cloud hissed low. Thinking back on it had anxiety curling in his chest like a snake wound to strike. “I knew there was something out in the dark. Something that wanted to hurt Tifa and the kids. No matter what she, Marlene, Denzel, or Chadley told me, I needed to sit there and watch it before it came up those stairs. I don’t know what got to me—and it does sound ridiculous now—but it was real to me.”

Barret stayed quiet while Cloud ran his nails over the fabric of his pants. Every cotton thread of the denim was something he paid mind; counting them all in his mind while the tension released. Thinking on it pulled him back into the fear. Not necessarily of the moment itself, but everything it represented in his mind. “Every time I think I’m finally better, it happens again. I’m tired of seeing shadows, Barret.”

“What if it don’t ever go away, Cloud? With all the shit that happened to you, I ain’t surprised your head don’t wanna let it go.”

The way Barret asked was free of judgment or even pity for that matter. Yet, it made Cloud feel so incredibly weary. Tifa had said the same that afternoon once his episode had passed. At least that one had been only a few hours. All of them were worried, and Cloud couldn’t find it in him anymore to be nothing but resigned and tired over it.

“Then I guess I’ll have to live with it,” he stated. “Threatening fiends at the end of my bed with materia, or feeling paranoid over shit that isn’t real, only occasionally is better than Sephiroth literally fucking with my head.”

“I guess…” Barret trailed off.

It wasn’t a resolution. They never did find one when the topic came up; but, unfortunately, Cloud felt there wasn’t really one for his head stuff. Tipping back the last of his water, he closed his eyes for a moment before pulling a smile on Barret. The older man still looked pensive and put out. “Hey—“ Cloud tilted his head back and gave Barret a light-hearted jab to the side— “I’m fine. This ‘cocky bastard’ ain’t going nowhere again, and it doesn’t make my life any harder than it used to be. I know how to live with it.”

A small bit of mirth returned to Barret’s eyes. He shook his head and ruffled Cloud hair before he could even attempt a protest or to bat those huge hands away. “Well, I can at least take solace in knowing you’re as hardy as a damn cockroach! If it becomes too much to bear, you’ll come to us, alright?”

Cloud nodded instantly. “I will.”

Their silence became comfortable after that. Serious talks like this also were so much easier these days. It was rare now he felt the need to run or pull himself out of the whole interaction when things turned to him. Maybe Reeve was right and he was—dreadfully—becoming an adult. Or maybe he finally, truly, felt comfortable in himself and his family after all the pain and all the doubt. It took him long enough. Far too long. Were Aerith and Zack happy he was finally living?

Blinking, Cloud’s eyes drifted over to the clock. He startled at how late it was and bolted upright in his chair. Beside him, Barret also started but Cloud paid him no mind. “Denzel, Marlene!” Everyone else turned to look at him while he rounded the table to make it back to where he’d set the box. Trading his glass for a knife, Cloud beckoned them closer. “I did promise y’all would get to see these before bed, and it’s gotten pretty late.”

One pass over the tapped up top and two at the sides let the flaps pop open. Both of the kids excitement grew dreadful the longer Cloud had them wait, and each of their little hands seemed itching to dive in. Deep footsteps told him Barret joined them before he settled behind Marlene. White paper crinkled in his hands as Cloud unwrapped the parcel. A deep smile carved itself into his face when he lifted the personalized bridles where both kids could see them, and the bubble of happiness overflowed at their delighted gasps.

“Chocobo bridles?!” Denzel asked, stars in his eyes.

Marlene looked ready to start jumping for joy. “You’re gonna teach us how to ride, Cloud?!”

He nodded. Each bridle was made of the best quality leather Cloud himself could hunt. Chloe had dyed and embroidered the pieces to make them one of a kind and for Denzel and Marlene alone. It’d been weeks of work and a pretty bit of gil, but Cloud didn’t regret a cent.

“Yeah. I’ve been talking with Barret and Tifa and, now that Billy has some new birds reared up, we agreed it’s time to teach you both.” His eyes fell to Denzel in particular while he passed each kid their gift. “Especially if a certain someone wants to help me out on deliveries one day.” Cloud’s hand went to his pocket. It took a moment for Denzel to fully grasp what Cloud was saying, but it was obvious once he pulled out a bracer fit to the kid’s size. He lowered himself to one knee.

“Denzel, you’ve been diligent when I teach you how to use a sword, and you’re old enough to be learning how to control materia. It’s still gonna be a few years before I take you with me in earnest…but I know you’re ready for this.”

Taking Denzel’s arm in his hands, Cloud placed the bracer around it. There was a small sniffle. Then a set of small arms threw themselves around his neck with the metal pieces of the bridle hit him with reckless abandon. Yet, he couldn’t find it even in him to wince. Not when Denzel babbled out a ‘thank you’ with promises to do right by Cloud like he always did. When Marlene tackled them both, he only let out a small ‘oof’ as he fell to the floor with the kids as a heap on-top of him.

Maybe you’ve done right by them, he thought, knowing it wasn’t only the kids he was thinking about.

Chapter Text

The fibers taken from the flax of well of Wyrd spun from spindle to the hands of the Norns ‘til they became threads which commanded all fates. Each one was cut, then woven into a tapestry none had knowledge of except for the three, and such secrets were only whispered in the moments where water was drawn to nourish the sacred tree. Ma once told him sagas of heroes and gods next to the hearth during the winter. Her fingers pulling through his hair as the wind sung melodies of its own. Even when his mind was broken, his memories closed off to him, Cloud felt as-if he could see the threads within the furious current of the lifestream within the Temple and the well itself as the great ocean beneath them all. The stories of his youth are not the only truth, or the whole of it, Cloud knew that for certain, and that he wasn’t a man to ponder it. Such things he felt better left to Aerith or Nanaki and his kin.

Flipping the photograph once again, Cloud idly mused over the nights Aerith asked him to tell her those stories while out on the road. While in the Canyon he told her of the Norns. Tried to couch it all with how little he believed in fate. She just smiled and gave her own account of the stars they were searching for and the fragments of stories retained from her own mother. Years had robbed the photo of its gloss. This was the one they’d taken after trekking across sand and rocky cliff-faces, and it was one of the few from back then where he felt relaxed in-front of the lens.

His revelry cut itself short with a deep sigh. Cloud ran his fingers through his soft spikes as he caressed a thumb over Aerith’s joyous face, then he clipped the photo back into his journal. It was an old book. A simple undyed leather-bound where he could tie in new pages once he’d gone through hundreds of them, and the edges were rough or splitting from years of carrying it on him through all kinds of weather. He used it to list delivery information, or cataloging his day-to-day. Tifa had bought the darn thing after he told her how scared he was of forgetting again or having his own memories messed with. It did help keep his thoughts straight. Along with his notes, he also kept a small collection of photos of anything and everything he cherished.

Suddenly, there were a quick set of taps at his door. Scratching out a quick date, Cloud pushed away from his desk and crossed his bedroom. There was a good bit less of his motorcycle equipment in here since he moved everything back out to the shed. A Nibel rug now decorated the floor under his bed, the sheets themselves more lively and patterned, and overall the room felt more like his these days.

“Good morning, Cloud!” Chadely said once the door was open. “May I come in?”

After a quick affirmative, Cloud gestured for the kid to take a place on the bed and he shut the quietly behind them both. Chadley was already dressed in his usual WRO survey uniform. He a look that told Cloud he was all business. Luckily, he was without his little survey bot. If it was still on a charging port, that meant it would be awhile before anyone came to collect him to head out wherever Reeve wanted the boy to go today. A mission had been off-handedly mentioned at breakfast, but the mood had been cheery enough that Cloud kept any fretting to himself. Chadley had been working for WRO for a few years now—androids were “exempt” from Reeve’s “no child” policy—however, it was only recently he managed to convince Reeve to let him take a more active role in survey work that wasn’t only related to the towers or old Republic sites.

“Reeve still sending you all over creation?” Cloud meandered back over to his desk chair and sat whilst Chadley deposited himself onto the bed.

“Of course!” Chadely responded immediately and with overt pride. “I hope I need not remind you am indispensable to WRO’s efforts. The delivery service is important, Cloud. But I hope you don’t forget—“

“I know!” Cloud raised up a hand in hopes to stop the rambling before it got out of hand. No matter how much time went on, this was something that remained baked into Chadely’s character. Not that Cloud ever minded much. “I’m just being facetious, Chadely.”

“I shall catalog that away for next time.”

“Not that I haven’t been thinking about it, but where are you going today? Reeve’s still being careful to not send you anywhere dangerous, right?”

A small smile alighted the cyborg’s face as he nodded. Cloud knew that Chadely was more durable than his child-shaped body would suggest. Along with being smart enough to avoid trouble—for the most part. That did not mean the boy hadn’t counted as “his kid” ever since he insisted on following Avalanche all over the world; nor, did that mean Cloud didn’t need to be concerned over Chadley waltzing into danger.

Images flashed within his monocle right before a scale model map of Midgar’s ruins displayed itself in the space between Cloud and Chadely. Blue dots gathered around old Reactor 1. Then the diagram spun and zoomed in as it displayed what looked like a planned route around both it and Midgar more generally.

“Director Tuesti wants me to collect and catalog data on both the Reactors and Midagr’s support pillars over the next few days,” Chadley explained. “Calculating the rate of mako return will be crucial to understanding how life may return to the Wastes, and the overall health of the Planet. The pillars are also a cause for concern. You can imagine how devastating it would be for Edge if one were to fall, and they have been without care for years because the ruins have been so unstable.”

Cloud leaned forward. His eyes raked over the path as it laid itself out. He mentally thought through the route, where monsters could be, and any other dangerous which could present itself out there. Midgar wasn’t a no-go zone by any means, not anymore at least. Yet… Cloud worried his lip. “Who’s going with you?”

Chadley closed out the map. His monocle went dark and he pulled it from his face to clean. “Barret should once he returns from walking Marlene and Denzel to school. Cait Sith will be joining us and a small WRO infantry, as well.” He paused for a moment to resettle the device on his face; then he locked Cloud in-place with a small frown. “I know you are concerned, Cloud, but this is all standard fair I assure you. More confidence in Reeve and myself would be appreciated.”

Abruptly Cloud realized what he’d been implying and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah. Sorry Chadley. Didn’t mean that. I know you can keep yourself safe, and that Reeve wouldn’t put you in harm’s way. Barret either.” Even if sincere, his voice was quiet in his worry.

“MAI will keep a scan on the area for fiends as well.”

“Alright, alright.” Cloud waved away his own concerns. Instead, he focused on the thought which popped into mind so he could try to salvage the mood. He gave Chadley a little smile. “I’ll keep my head focused on deliveries and let you go collect the ‘world intel’ this time.”

It wasn’t ever hard to pull back the kid’s mood. Chadley beamed and the room brightened all over again. With a small gesture on Cloud’s end, his excitement overflowed as he began to explain the minute details of the work.. Much of it went over Cloud’s head. Even so, he sat and listened while turned back to his notebook where he could finish his delivery plan. He vocalized a little to show he was still listening if Chadley began to flag, but otherwise kept quiet and let the boy ramble to his heart’s content about the science this research would push forward. Eventually, he did quiet. It wasn’t until Cloud scratched out the last of his notes that the bed creaked.

“Cloud. I will need to head out soon to meet Cait, but I have a request for you,” Chadley said.

The boy approached his desk while pulling something tiny from his breast-pocket. In his hand was a small, black chip with the logo of Shinra’s R&D department. Cloud had seen this only once. Tilting his head, his full attention was now on the android as he held out the delicate piece of hardware. “This is a copy of my memory and internal processor,” Chadley explained. “I need you insert it into the Eastern Seaboard Tower’s control module so I can download and analyze strange data readings from the tower as-of late.”

Trepidation bubbled up in Cloud’s throat. This never lead to anything good, not in his experience. A tower having issues was not something notable on face value as the things were old and—even after Chadley taking great strives in restoring and maintaining them—they still had issues every so often. On the other hand, they were the main source for tracking information and changes cross-planet. ‘Strange data’ could mean anything from a mundane malfunction…to the towers being the first things to spot geostigma years ago. Cloud carefully took the chip. He could hold on to Chadley not sounding too concerned.

“Any idea what it could be?” Cloud asked, attempting to keep his voice even.

“Not yet, no.” Chadley pulled his arms in close to his chest. He began to pace, tapping at his lips with the side of his finger the more he became lost in thought. A little habit he claimed to have picked up from Yuffie. “All I know is that a few towers have picked up disturbances from local lifesprings. With everything that has happened before and after Meteorfall, there is no telling what effects still linger.”

Cloud hummed. That was vague. But it wasn’t like there was much of an answer right now. He slipped the chip into his wallet and slid both back into his small side bag. “I’ll keep it safe. I promise.”

Chadley placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head in thanks. “Your cooperation is always appreciated!” Quick as a light, he turned to grab the bag he set down. Ensuring that everything was in it’s proper place, Chadley turned back to give Cloud one more smile. “I best get going so I can meet Cait. When you return from your deliveries I would love to go over the data together!”

Thoughts of the signals the towers were picking up still rattled around in his mind even after Chadley’s footsteps faded out. Stretching his arms above his head, then shaking them out, Cloud pushed away frets and worries before they formed into anything else. It had been four years of silence. No other alarms had been raised, and there had been plenty last time. Slapping his hands down onto his knees, Cloud rose from his chair and skipped over to the clothing chest. One thing at a time and he had deliveries to do first and foremost.

After pulling on his regular traveling clothes, Cloud checked over all the buckles, ties, and armor pieces to ensure nothing was broken or out of place. He gave a quick glance over his materia. Given he wasn’t going any further then Junon, the current set of magic and supporters between his bracer and swords would suffice, and if he got drafted into a monster clean up job there was enough to improvise. He shoved his journal into his bag with an assortment of other little tools he may or may not have need of. Then the last things he sought out were his earring and the Fusion Sword propped up next his bed.

Breakfast and other mundane parts of the morning had already passed. With how early it was in the summer, the sun already took up purchase in the sky, but a quick glance at his PHS told it was barely past ten. Still early enough to make it to Kalm by nightfall. More if he rode hard, Cloud guessed.

The bar itself was quiet once he made it to the last step. Morning rush for confectioneries was done, and—besides the few who stayed to type on their computers or enjoy the solitude of the between hours—the next wouldn’t come until lunch and then the late patrons after 7th Heaven re-opened for the night. Tifa was currently giving directions Oates and a newer girl on what menu items to get a start on. Both to them gave Cloud a quick ‘hello’ before bounding into the kitchen. At his raised brow, Tifa chuckled. “Both of them are excited we’re gonna be trying new food tonight. Oates has wanted to learn Nibel and Sector 7 cuisine for awhile and Alice got her dad to list off some old Wall Market favorites.”

“I’ll wish you luck once the line starts going out the door.” Cloud smiled and pulled Tifa in for a hug. She could only offer one arm with a towel still in her hand, but that was enough. “I’ll miss you and the kids while I’m out.”

“Six years and now you’ve finally gone soft on us?” Tifa asked, mirthful.

Cloud rolled his eyes. Pulling away, he fished Fenrir’s key out of his pocket and spun the loop on his finger. “Nope. Haven’t gone soft one bit.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” She folded up the towel. For a moment, Cloud wondered if that was cue to say his goodbyes and head out, but then Tifa tilted her head with a curious look. While she was still smiling there was a tiny bit of something there Cloud found hard to parse. “You’re really gonna do it? Teach Denzel how to use materia? Have him go on more deliveries with you?”

Now it was Cloud’s turn for his brows to furrow. “Why wouldn’t I? Between us both, kid’s proven he can fight. Monsters were why I was concerned about him going out there, and he’s been begging for months every time I get home or prep to head back out, Tif.”

“I know…but Cloud, training like that’s gonna be a major time commitment. Hard to find time to get started when you’re only here a few days out of the month, outside of holidays or local only deliveries, and—“

“Well—“ Cloud raised up his hands with a small smirk. He only felt a little bad for interrupting the thought, especially because of what he’d been planning for the last few weeks— “What if I told you I was gonna take the next month off, Tifa?”

There was a singular moment where Tifa looked a little shocked, then her eyes alighted into a smile as she leaned into the counter. “Really? A whole month?!”

“We have enough saved up for it, and if I wanna get the kids on those chocobos we’ll need time to travel to Billy’s. Besides….I seem to remember a lot of text messages about everyone having time to get together next month.” Cloud smirked as he leaned in closer to Tifa. “Yuffie would never let me hear the end of it if I missed seeing her again.”

Tifa grabbed one of his hands to cradle it in her own. Her eyes crinkled from the delight on her face, and it was then Cloud knew keeping it a surprise was the right call. “A month is perfect. Oh, everyone’s gonna be so excited! We haven’t all been together in the same place for a whole year!”

She easily let him go when he pulled away his hand. Cloud curled a fist around his key while throwing a glance to the back door. These deliveries would still take around a week at minimum. He’d have to keep from being sidetracked; which was easier said than done when you were a face people knew and trusted planet-wide. There were a few other ex-SOLDIERS, WRO’s military, and local militias to keep things quiet, but that didn’t mean his mercenary days were completely over or would ever be. Still, this was a promise he was keeping to himself. “As soon as I’m back, y’all will have me for the next month. Already set up the site and everything to let people know.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then. Stay safe, alright Cloud? Call me when you get to Kalm?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

Cloud turned and strode out of the bar. There was a humid quality to the air; something which would have been inconceivable a few years ago. It was not oppressive. Yet, it made Cloud look up the sky and breathe deep. Perhaps there was rain on the horizon. He moved through the garden with ease. Only slowing once he made it to the shed to recheck that all of the packages he needed were safely in Fenrir’s trunk after going out to receive them before breakfast. He could think over the best way to incorporate Chadley’s request into his route while heading to Kalm. Slinging a leg over his bike, fastening on his goggles, Cloud powered on Fenrir and meandered through the back streets until finally making it to the main road.

Getting around and out of Edge was a lot easier than it used to be with the construction nearing completion in many areas and all the improvements Reeve pushed for in conjunction with the new local government. Once he was out of the city, Cloud let himself ride as fast as he wanted to on the open highway. He would pass buses on their routes between Edge and Kalm, or even the occasional chocobo carriage, but otherwise was free to it the more out into the Wastes he got.

The wind and sun warmed his bones and the longer he rode the morning’s worries fell silent. They did not return even as the weather began to twist. Dust which clung to the road got kicked into a faint cloud by his bike; so much so it obscured the changes around him until they could not be ignored. Deeper into the wasteland he went, the more the air took on a wet feeling and Cloud’s breath clung to his throat. The sun still beat down upon the rocky expanse like nothing had changed. Passing through a tunnel and next to cliffs, the road grew more lonely where there should have been some whisper of life. Cloud could not even hear the calls of fiends; which never were drowned out fully by Fenrir's roar. The air itself paradoxically felt cooler. As-if he had wandered into a shade that did not exist. Only once he looked to the sky did he realize the depth of his problem.

Gathering into a line was a stampede of dark and roiling clouds that cast the bareness around him into grey shadow. Every shrub and scant grass reached out to the sky in anticipation. Flashes of light came from within the darkness, and so frequent was their appearance Cloud could make out edges of how deep the storm went. The front was a mass. Something that could have stretched from the Grasslands to where he now was. A curtain of rain did not follow. If there was any, Cloud could not see it. This was a lightning storm. Gusts whipped at his garments in a way Fenrir’s speed did not. Cover from this in Kalm was still hours away, and trying to seek it would take him right into the storm. But there wasn’t any way he could go but forward. This road was a Shinra hold over, and it did not stop until the Kalm checkpoint.

Swift as he could, Cloud switched his Lightning materia into the slot next to his Elemental. A harsh buzz pulsed to life as his armor and skin danced with electricity, and the sky responded in tandem with the crackle of thunder. He gripped Fenrir’s handles as he went head-long into the storm. The full force of it was upon him in an instant. Far too quick—far too purposed—than any natural storm could have been as air bent and broke with the coming tumult. It wasn’t like Cloud missed the sign. But, he wished it to be less obvious and prayed to any god that would listen for this to be a natural rain.

White and green threads arched in the sky. Dancing with one another until he passed them by and they found their target. His chance to turn around was gone; not that the threads pulled from flax had not already whispered their secrets. A crack of the whip, wheels screeching against pavement, then his senses going dark were the last things Cloud knew as his world was consumed in a flash.

Chapter Text

Cold pricked at his clammy skin from where he lain prone. The din of screams and hissing raged within his being—in his ears—while he floated in the space between nothingness and everything. A faint hum was above him. It was different from one all around him, yet still angry and prickling. Even without sight he knew what roiled around him. A pool of blacken water which leaked from his own being and hungered to consume everything in its inky depths; a gift from…. Mother—

Yet it made his own throat burn.

His nails scratched against the tiles—begging for purchase or relief from the mind-twisting madness that laid him out upon the ground. When had it begun? What would make it end? The dead and ghosts who swarmed by the thousands; those who wandered and refused the tide which ripped and roared at the selfish, contemptible spirit. Timeless green lingered at the edges of the black. Colliding, prowling, rippling within the deep ocean, beneath the crust, as droplets of light which sought and flowed as a beacon of life itself, before the stillness came again.

His throat felt raw from his own screaming and begging. A nightmare. One of too many that consumed him for nights on end. There was light. A detestable light that seemed unerring and unperturbed by the gloom. A mania induced frenzy or bitterness and contempt roared from within the dark. It tore and yowled and called to a name unknown to even it until all sight narrowed on a tiny flicker of white—

Then the crescendo ended on a buzzing whimper. The light returned to somewhere beyond his sight. Now above him instead of below or surrounding his whole being. The buzzing had calmed to be as irritating as gnat behind the ear, and the man’s body tensed at the high pitch of it all. Slowly, he eased back into himself. Stillness reigned supreme now, and he was grateful for it to former roaring within his veins. Sterile cold seeped back into his sweat-soaked skin as his fingers felt at the divots and smooth surface of the tile floor he was laying on. Languidly, his heavy eyes opened to the color of muted grey.

A dull pain pulsed in the man’s head. Noticeable first was a blanket of paler silver pooled around him in the dark space. He almost thought he was back in that strange void; unfortunately, the pain in his skull and the disgusting, sticky feeling of his body was enough to dispute that. There wasn’t feeling like this in that place. The man blinked and once again felt at the floor with both his hands. It was cold, smooth, and there was the faintest texture of stone that he couldn’t tell was real or fake. The blurriness receded in waves until he could finally make out where he was. A room? The dark walls and floor with those pale blue-white lights around what might have been a mirror were…familiar. Only vaguely so.

I should know this place…shouldn’t I? the man thought before his eyes slipped shut again.

Pieces slotted back into place slowly. This was a bathroom. There was a sink above him, other amenities to his right, and red carpets he had chosen to try and break up blankness of the space. Or had someone else gotten them? The details escaped him and that felt worse than it should have. This was a bathroom in…his place?

The foreignness of the thought had the man shivering before he opened his eyes once more and weakly gripped the floor to try and push himself up. When the blanket of silver moved with him only then did he remember it was his own hair. His arms shook as-if they were unused to attempting to carry his own weight, and he was almost sent straight back to the floor when his stomach lurched and rolled.

He paused. Breathing deep breaths on instinct to try and calm the war within his own body. All of this felt…wrong. Like he was top spinning in futility before it finally collapsed to the ground. He tried to focus on the silver in-front of his eyes, or the way the floor patterns swayed and swirled like those currents of life, yet found his concentration drifting to distant faces and memories he could not quite make out. When he finally looked at his own hands—both of them still braced against the ground—there was not even the faintest spark of familiarity. They were undeniably his own, but they couldn’t be. They shouldn’t be. Yet, why was that?

Who…am I?, the man wondered. An answer almost bubbled to the surface, it screamed at him to pay attention to it even as its voice was muffled by a roaring buzz in his ears. Only for it to quiet again and leave him no closer to an answer. The man knew before. Only a few hours ago—a lifetime ago—and he grasped desperately for the knowledge before another gale pushed him back into the dark.

His fingers tensed on the floor. Vertigo still whispered threats of cascading him back to the ground, but he wouldn’t be the man he is if something so trivial couldn’t be ignored. A creaky, disgusting voice croaked out threats and taunts about weakness and potential both. The room grew colder. It morphed into somewhere more industrial. Nausea lapped at his throat again as he swore the mirage grew sharper, clearer, and more real by the second; what was this place and why did it make the most repugnant feeling well up in his chest?

Attempting to shake off the vision, the man grit his teeth so he could force himself off the bathroom floor. His legs whined in protest as the vertigo caused the world to careen as his body tilted within the deluge of pain; yet he forced himself to stay upright this time even as the nasty taste of bile returned to coat his mouth. Trivial. Meaningless. He could push and not be reduced any further. His hand sought out the lip of the counter he knew was above him. Upon finding it, the previous vision ebbed until it faded completely—the sniveling voice gone with it—and the man felt like he could breathe again. That was odd in and of itself. What did he have to fear? Whatever he once was had no time for such distractions, he was sure of that.

It was a slow battle to finally leave the ground behind. His weary fingers dug into the freezing metal of the sink and his other arm braced against the counter so he could win this war. Silver strands fell along his back or rolled over his shoulders to brush against his chest as a little bit of warmth in the overwhelming cold. Many pieces stuck to his clammy skin. Much of it also felt unkempt, knotted, and dull from lack of care. His lips grimaced at the feeling. Finally getting his feet under him, the man splayed his hands upon the counter. He blinked a few times to adjust to the blue lights now so close to his eyes. Past a veil of silver the man lifted his aching head and sore eyes to find something staring back at him that capture every bit of his attention. An unfamiliar man gazed at him within the mirror.

Gaunt was his face. Eyes sunken, bruised, and rimmed with faint green from how his eyes glowed. They alone felt familiar to him. Slitted from the moment of his birth and then sickened by mako until they took the hue of the very lifestream forced into his body. Eyes that had seen too much. With much wonderment, he was pulled deeper into his reflection; as-if gazing upon it would solve the question burned deep into his soul. His hair was as matted as he assumed. It was longer than it should have been. Two visions warred for his attention. A self which felt divine and regal faded away the longer this haggard man gazed at him from the mirror.

Blindly, his hand felt at his abdomen. A large scar tore itself across his waist and down to his hipbone; gnarled and horrid that showed the cut was not clean nor done with a steady hand. Yet, what would have killed even him was healed over. “When did this…?” he questioned.

His eyes blew wide. Jubilation. Pain. Fury. Blond. All at once his mind oriented around one figure and did everything slot back into place. Unseeing, he continued to stare at his own reflection as memories fell like droplets upon his mind. They pooled until they took the shape of that trooper—that man. It mattered not that all else still felt hazy and out of reach when he knew only important things for certain. That man was Cloud Strife. And he, himself, was Sephiroth.

Sephiroth began to chuckle, then threw back his head; his laughter filled the whole space of the unfamiliar bathroom. How long had it been since he had been in living flesh? Never before had he felt this giddy. Once again he had returned. Such could only be divine providence forged by his great Mother. His promise, his vengeance, his offered salvation could finally come to pass—

His voice fell to silence the moment he sought out a connection, and found his strand unmoored. Cloud was not here. Suddenly, he was back in the bathroom; now the unfamiliarity felt more strange than it had before. Yet, he could have swore a few hours ago this space had been contained in all he knew. Sephiroth looked around more seriously. With the vertigo and weakness dulled to an ache more things began to stand out. The weight of his armor was completely absent as he realized he was dressed down only to a pair of grey sweatpants. His brows furrowed in confusion. There had been a thought that this was ‘his place,’ whatever that meant.

The first step away from the counter was a test. Despite his legs feeling laden with iron his feet kept him upright and the world did not tilt again. Feeling bold, Sephiroth took purposed strides to the askew doorway. What met him beyond it offered no more answers. It was an…apartment—his mind supplied.

The dark color of the bathroom extended into the living room; black stained wood lined the walls while the floor and ceiling was covered by a lighter color. A marbled granite counter-top that broke up the space between the kitchen and living room was the first thing to greet him as he curiously examined this room. There was a lack of anything identifiable about it. Every extra item on a shelf or the counter—things like wine bottles, spheres, and fake plants—seemed intentionally placed only to make the apartment less utilitarian. His eyes passed over a picture frame idly left on the counter next to the stove. It was a starkly personal item, yet did not draw any care from him. Other than a shaggy grey rug and a dark leather couch surrounding the coffee table, there was nothing of import in the living room either. Certainly nothing that explained why he was here.

Last time he’d awoke in the world of the living was after Kadaj had done exactly as instructed by Mother and his own fading consciousness. He did remember that he died again. Failed Mother again. Even his final promise to Cloud could not erase the bitter taste of blood and defeat in his mouth. The last vestiges of his memory was of something warm and strong cradling his, or perhaps Kadaj’s, broken body as a cold rain pelted his face, and nothing else beyond that. There was not much from before he’d been graced with Mother’s knowledge and then thrown into the mako pool to burn. Yet, he has designed it that way. Those memories were a nuisance.

An uncomfortable feeling welled up in his chest. Despite how bland this place was…he was familiar with it. Intimately so given his lack of memory felt so out of place and confusing. Pain blossomed across Sephiroth’s temples and his left hand jumped up to cradle his head in a vain attempt to staunch it. Another wave of vertigo almost forced him down. Once he came back, he released his death-grip on the back of the couch as a groan escaped his lips.

This was his apartment. The one his old self had lived in for years after forcing Hojo to release him from his confines in the labs. Said time he spent there—or even who that man was—was a still a haze. Yet…he looked around; now more curious than before. If this was his apartment in Midgar, how could he possibly be here? Was this another vision that little Ancient tried to force upon him? Perhaps not with the very real pain and feeling of leather against his palm. He knew the difference between visions and reality. Stumbling forward, Sephiroth made his way to the drawn curtains of the balcony window.

His eyes widened once he pulled them back. Far below him was the city of Midgar. The haze mako filled the air to cover the hubris of men in a blanket of sickly green; the reactors blazed with life, no longer cold skeletons of a mistake humanity would sooner wish to divest themselves of. Lights from buildings gleamed innocently as people went on in the dead of night. Below the plates, the slums would similarly be alive with little humans and their tiny lives. Most curiously, Sephiroth could make out the outlines of construction equipment surrounding Shinra’s tower. Interesting, Sephiroth thought; flipping through his memories for this could mean, The facade hasn’t been completed yet. There was no doubt about it. He was in the past. So far in the past he likely had not suffered his first death at Cloud’s hands; the boy would still be but a trooper.

Backing away from the window, Sephiroth ran a hand through his long hair. If this wasn’t a mere vision of the past, then there was much he could do or had to get done. His eyes slipped closed as he sought out the connection again. Still nothing. There were faint pulses of Mother’s presence on the floor below him—SOLDIERS no doubt—yet nothing to indicate Cloud was here or even Jenova herself was awake and aware. However, that also meant those meddlesome humans were not here either. Sephiroth smirked as he opened his eyes. A small aberration pulled at his attention, so he stepped to the coffee table where a small note lay unnoticed till now. The words were hastily scribbled on a scrap. It was hard to make them out and like the author did not wish to stay long.

Seph,

Came by earlier. Sorry you’ve been so sick man. If you wake up feeling better could you give me a call? Got called away on a mission up north, some more of the guys went missing and I’m worried about them. I’ll be back in a few days and even if you don’t wanna call could we talk? I really need you to speak to me man. Hope you feel better soon.

- Zack

Sephiroth read over the note a few times. His eyes narrowed as something disgusting curled in his chest; an unfamiliar emotion he did not want back. The cadence of the words was familiar to a voice he almost knew, and that name felt so poignant and yet also gave him that horrid feeling. A hazy face and slicked-back black hair attempted to focus in his mind. He was another carrier of that accursed sword. With a growl, Sephiroth tore the note to pieces and took no little pleasure in watching it burn away into nothingness with a spark of his own powers. They felt weakened without his bond; fortunately, disconnected from Mother as he was, what his own cells could do was more than enough.

Zack was nothing more than Cloud’s ill-fated SOLDIER friend; another little human who died and meant nothing to his own designs expect as a momentary tool. The note did add another confirmation of him being in the past. At least it was useful for one thing. Sephiroth turned back to the sky-line of Midgar and many plans began to formulate in his mind. Being back in a living body meant he had more freedom than he’d had in a long time; even if it also meant there was some amount of care he’d need for navigating the past. But then again, what does it matter? Sephiroth wondered. This world was his by right, yet the fools of this time were completely oblivious to it. His lips pulled into a smirk.

“Dear Mother, you have given me a gift so sublime,” Sephiroth whispered as he watched a reactor blaze from Gaia’s screams. “I will come to you, and then will our dominion finally reach the heights you oft whispered to me.”

Chapter Text

Cloud’s heart pounded as he ran, and he stared in utter dismay at the barren wasteland around him. This was different than the mako-dry earth of the Wastes. It was not the endless white of the northern glaciers. It was not a place where spring was late to come; spring had never come here, nor would ever return here again. Naught grew in the sickened soil which crunched beneath his boots. Puddles of dark water splashed as he scrambled past smashed pillars and walls twice as tall as he; dust coating them all as-if not a drop of rain had ever touched them. The land twisted and broke into a myriad canvas of carved floating islands and rotting mechanical structures that had long since been divested of their purposes—a labyrinth which almost reminded him of the Temple yet could not truly be with the metal walls and dangling wires. There was no sun here. No stars. No light. For all the roiling of the dark mist which made up the sky above, no breeze stirred across the land and the air burned cold like the depths of winter.

Cloud glanced over his shoulder often as he ran, but he could not see his pursuers. He did not know what was pursuing him. But he knew that he could not stop running. Could only pray that his strength not give out on him until he could find somewhere to hide in this forsaken place. More desolate hills and jagged spires of metal met his eyes as he looked. Some where covered twisting masses of flesh that he could not make out and did not wish to gaze upon for too long. Only one feeling permeated the air: despair, hopelessness, sorrow—whatever it wished to call itself. He could feel it so intently that it settled in his chest like it was the only emotion he’d ever known, and it wished to gnaw at every passion and cherished memory until they were shredded.

With desperate haste Cloud scrambled to the top of a rusted over ridge, the dropped to his knees with a groan. Below him, this island finally came to end as the sheer cliff descended into the swirling darkness below. The river of the canyon was much like the ocean above; a mass of roiling clouds dark black in color which were flecked by dim purple light that roiled until they broke against the canyon wall or a furious stream breached the surface like the tail of massive creature which dwelled within the depths. Patches of the fog attempted to glow green for an instant before the light died all over again. Thunder roared somewhere far off. It almost sounded like the cry of monster writhing in pain.

He tried to breathe. The frigid air burned his lungs worse than any mako over could, yet he gasped for it. His fingered curled into fists where they rested on his knees while he choked on the air he so desperately wished to breathe. Head tilted back, he could see a lone break in the darkness. Soft stars of many colors and patterns that beckoned and promised him salvation if he held on just a little longer. Cloud reached for them right as the darkness swallowed them all over again. Those stars were familiar. He had seen that sight once. There had been the heat of a fire set ablaze in desperation, the very land heaved in agony as it ripped itself apart, and he shook despite the serenity of the heavens above. Even if it felt like a mere dream that he had discarded as fiction long ago, he knew the memory was there. He knew it was there.

Wind moved at his back. Cloud’s body snapped to attention as he rounded on the disturbance and grasped the hilt of his sword. He tensed as unseen fingers touched him, pulled at his arms and legs, trying to draw him away from the cliff-edge; and he knew his cloaked pursuers were closing in on him. They would find him if he went back. His body twitched, pleading for him to obey. It wanted him. His feet dug into the pitted metal, his legs stiffened as-if that little bit of defiance would save him. A soft voice crooned as ghostly strings entrapped his heart—it would not hurt, this would only free him.

Tears ran down his face, yet Cloud would not allow himself to sag to the ground. His mind grasped for anything. Memories of his friends—his family—of the sun or the breeze blowing in from the sea or the smell of flowers growing on the window sill of a shed. A teasing voice as a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders. A hug that he clung to as he cried, and cried, and cried until his lungs gave out. Each memory forced the mire to part a little more. The stars returned and, abruptly, Cloud discovered a new emotion: anger. Righteous fury which ignited the very air and turned the world from frigid to a controlled blaze. Enmity directed towards that repugnant voice alone. It could push him, pull him, but he was not a puppet made to dance at any master’s discretion.

That thunderous roar echoed again. Despondent and frantic all at once, and Cloud could not tell from which direction it came. Or what even could have made it. Once again he looked into the canyon. Really looked until he could see what lay beneath the cage of the black river’s torrent, and, while he found no monster, Cloud almost swore he could see a swirling mass around a land covered with trees. A bright light gleamed in the rage-filled darkness; one that attempted to bring hope into this empty space filled with only grief. A similarly bright current beat against the dark one as it hissed and screamed with a fury that prayed to consume all without discretion. He despised this oppressive darkness just as much as the voice.

Cloud drew his sword. All the darkness seemed to focus on him and him alone—desperation and ire both cloyed at him as he ran forward towards the edge of that cliff. If he cut through, there would be stillness beneath it all. Safety. Sanctuary. Irrespective, the terror here wanted to keep him from it, and he never was in the mood to be docile. Sprinting despite the burning in his body, he vaulted himself off the cliff. The stream erupted into a scream as three columns ruptured past the surface fleeing from the light below. Cloud knew he had to get to it. Above all else he had to make it to that light. That alone would be what freed him. Raising his sword above his head, he prepared to drive it into that fetid mist—

—and screamed as a burst of green consumed him whole, and even the split of the canyon vanished from his sight.

…Weightless. Warm. Still.

All Cloud could feel was his heartbeat in his chest and the embrace of this endless warmth. It felt like the Grassland’s spring breeze. Or being curled up next to the fireplace in the dead of winter. He could have been falling. Or was he merely floating? No longer was he in that distorted space. There was no danger here; no need for worry or alarm at how he couldn’t open his eyes.

Voices mummered behind his ears. They were so distant Cloud could not catch even a word from the garbled mess, but from the timbre he knew they were not familiar. All he knew was that they weren’t his pursuers. Though, it was strange to think there was anything dangerous here. He tried to listen. Tried to drag meaning from the voices; but they faded far into the mist or perhaps he fell too far to make them out anymore.

His body twitched. Then he thrashed. Suddenly feeling how oppressive the weight constricting his body truly was. The warmth remained. It attempted to draw him back into slumber and his muscles tensed even more at the sound of water rushing around him. Was this a nightmare? A hallucination? Am I back in that damn tank? Cloud wondered, if briefly. The notion dismissed itself just as quickly. Never did he feel safe in that lab. Not even when he was barely alive. No, this place felt far too primeval to be that. It was untamed by any human hand and it was not the impassive, chemical stillness of treated mako. This place was ambivalent; it regarded him without malice nor with total affection. Like how a forest gazed at humans who passed through, or how the ocean simply was when a drowning man kicked and pleaded with the waves to not pull him under.

Cloud’s eyes fluttered open. Only a smidge with how heavy his entire body felt, but it was enough to see the endless green and the earthen cavern which surrounded him. It was, thankfully, not the confused mass of structures before; no sight of sleek metal or rotting sterile rooms. Islands floated in his periphery. Images twisted, conjoined, and faded in and out of existence. All of them were familiar to him and him alone. His childhood home. Seventh Heaven. One of the whale-like Weapons meandered through the tides above; its large materia casting light through the gentle gloom as it called to the wandering cloaked spirits that surrounded it. The Lifestream. His eyes slipped closed again. Realizing where he was should have concerned him. It didn’t. What had he been doing before?

“…Stormcloud.”

Ears perking, Cloud tried to hold onto the voice. It was so distant, quiet, and soft he almost missed it. But, he’d never forget that voice again. “…Ma?” he, maybe, whispered.

There was a pause before the voice whispered again. “You gotta wake up, Cloud.” she said, barely intelligible. “A lotta people are depending on you.”

His brows knit together. He knew there were. There always was. So…why was he…? The warmth pulled him back down as he continued to fall. His eyes wouldn’t open. His hands couldn’t thrash against the stream.

“I’m sorry…it’s always…be you….my little pup.” His mother’s voice faded into disjointed muttering. It wasn’t her voice alone he could hear, but the mummers of voices deep, light; young, old. Those he knew. Those he never met. Cloud grasped for his mother’s voice; never again did he want to lose it and yet it dimmed into the din. “One…you…back, Cloud….out of trouble, you silly…goose.”

He tried to open his eyes. Reach out. Apologize for forgetting before he plummeted. But his body refused to do anything more as it sweltered in the now torrid warmth. Cloud forced his mouth to open, and it snapped shut the moment burning mako flooded down his throat and into his lungs. He couldn’t breathe—

“Wake up,” a lighter voice urged.

Cloud’s eyes snapped open. His thrashing now caused bubbles of air to disperse the mako around him, and his frantic eyes sought out the murky light which was now above him. Suddenly it was real, that light was real, and he needed to break through the surface before he drowned. The lifestream itself carried him like a twig on the crest of a wave; and he swam until finally his fingers breached the surface the pool. Clutching at the rocks for dear life, he pulled himself up until he gasped on cool, sweet air.

Collapsing onto a cold, real stone floor was the best feeling upon the whole Planet. All the fight, panic, and nightmarish visions drained from his body, and he closed his eyes to a blessed and still darkness. A real breeze ruffled his hair. He could hear the distant song of night-birds crooning, of bugs hopping from plant to plant, and the thrum of the lifestream beneath the ground. Only once the last of the mako drifted from his body—and his breath sufficiently caught—could Cloud open his eyes again. Teal crystals jutted from the earth; their glow playfully casting light where the moon’s rays could not reach. He was laying on a bed of grass and flowers next to a lifespring…and surrounding him was not the sun-bleached ground of the Wastes outside of Kalm.

Chapter Text

Laying his sword against the crystal, Cloud shook out the remnants of mako from his hair and clothes. Flecks of green light scattered like dust upon the wind or settled on the petals of flowers and blades of grass growing next to the spring before they faded into nothing. Moonlight from the sinkhole above him further illuminated the small patch of life hidden at the bottom of this cavern. While he couldn’t see the moon from where he was, the light was enough for him to take in his surroundings. Other than the crystals and abundance immediately surrounding the spring, the cave he was in was utterly nondescript. Carved deep in the planet with massive stone pillars holding up a fissure strewn ceiling, but—other than a vague feeling of familiarity—there wasn’t much to cling to to decide where he was.

What the hell happened? Cloud wondered. A lightning storm had come upon him while driving to Kalm; that much he knew for a fact. Then there was a flash of green and…nothing. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the remains of fear clutching at his heart courtesy of pursuers he could not name. A place fetid, cold, and consumed by darkness; where all traces of light had so long ago been choked out it could not even remember what sun, star, or moon could even provide. His breath wavered. He did not wish to remember that place. It was a nightmare. Or some incomprehensible mess dreamed up by the Lifestream’s collective consciousness. Nothing ever makes sense down there, Cloud reminded himself. And if it tries, it still doesn’t make complete sense.

Regardless of how familiar he was with the Planet’s mind, no mortal soul could ever understand it all. Not even a Cetra…as much as they tried. It was too ancient. They’d all learned their lesson about believing they had the Lifestream figured out, so it was probably best to put all of that out of his head.

Willing to do just that, Cloud took stock of everything he still had on him. Fenrir was missing. The Fusion Sword being in it’s holster instead of tucked into the bike was a stroke of luck, and the materia slotted into his bangles and weapon was still here. Heimdall himself might’ve plucked him from the freeway, but at least he had the grace to not chuck Cloud out in the middle of nowhere with nothing. Feeling his side-bag had him sighing in relief. That meant he still had his journal, phone, and Chadley’s chip.

“Okay…” Cloud said. “Goal one, where the hell am I?”

After hefting his sword back into place, Cloud stepped out onto the rock. Flowing water from a river caught his ear, so too did the muffed crashing of ocean waves, and—through another huge opening in the rock—he could see the outline of a tree canopy standing as dark shadows against the starry sky. Closest to him, roots hung from a tree’s twisting limbs which called to mind only one kind: a banyan stood vigil outside the lifespring. Gongaga, then? Banyans only grew in this region—and not even in Mideel did the trees get as large as the ones in this jungle—yet it made no sense at all. However slight, a colder air nipped at his skin and there was a dry quality to it which spoke of the rainforest’s winter. There wasn’t a hint of the overbearing humidity of the onset of summer, which should have choked the lungs and made it difficult to breathe, or constant rain pelting the jungles’ leaves.

Cloud ran a gloved hand over the Fusion Sword’s handle. The leather grooves did little to ground him with the disquiet pooling in his stomach. First the sudden storm? Then getting cast to the Lifestream again? Now waking up a continent away in Gongaga? “ Please don’t be anything…” Cloud hissed. “Gods do me a favor just this once.”

His boots scuffed against stone as he started sprinting towards the lone torch left near a wall. It wasn’t lit. With the moss creeping up the stake, no one had likely been to this lifespring in years, but if memory served the torch marked a way out of the cavern. Chadley marked this place on his map all those years ago. This had to be the same place. In the shadows he couldn’t really see what he was doing, but his enhanced vision gave him enough of an edge to navigate up the cliff. Dust and pebbles came loose under his finger tips, but his pace did not let up as the cavern opened up into a larger room. The scent of sea salt, the sea breeze which wafted through the cave, and the sound of crashing waves getting closer pushed him on. He needed to get to Gongaga Village and call Tifa. He needed to let everyone know he’s okay.

Moving up the path, Cloud found himself on a precipice overlooking both a man-made structure and the Mirovian Ocean which surrounded the continents of Gaia. Massive waves crashed against the sheer cliffs of southern Gongaga’s shore. The sea sounded furious tonight. Wind not only ruffled his hair and stirred the current, but made the rotting Republic container port creak and groan like it would finally topple over. In the moonlight, the spires of metal and cables were cast into sharp shadows. Containers were as piled high as they ever were; overgrown with moss and vines which waved in the wind like tendrils. He couldn’t tell if this site had gotten better or worse since Shinra went defunct. Reeve had maybe mentioned attempting to bring it back into commission under WRO—but that was a conversation had over last Yule Cloud only heard snippets of.

Hastily Cloud jumped from the cliff down to the platform below. Being on the south side of the region wasn’t ideal. The trek to the village would take him through the heart of the jungle and hours to complete even if he could avoid fiends or any other dangers the forest posed. Even feeling rested as he did, this wasn’t a trip one would want to take in the dead of night; but he didn’t once pretend to be a SOLDIER for nothing. Out to the old highway, into the jungle path to the Holy Ruins, up to Magon Hill, and then onto the village.

Maybe he could use the tower on the way to send out a distress signal? Cloud’s dark expression pulled at his lips. That might only make things worse, or not work at all if the towers were on the fritz like Chadley had implied. Given it was night, maybe the others already knew he was missing? How long had he been floating down there? All sense of time was nothing more than a haze.

While passing by the mountain of old crates he blindly felt for his phone. Flicking on the screen, Cloud stopped in his tracks as he glanced at clock on the flip-phone’s display. It was frozen. The date was still exactly the same as when he left…and the hours lined up where he roughly would have been on the freeway. The second hand did not tick forward. No matter how long he stared at it, not a second went by according to the phone.

The Lifestream. It fucked with the processor or something. That’s all that is.

His mood did not improve upon seeing the no-signal icon. He shoved the cursed device back into his pack and jogged with renewed vigor towards the port exit. The immediate arrival of the canopy cast the dilapidated highway into deeper shadow than even the cavern; only the faintest of moonlight found its way through the gaps between the leaves to let him know there was anything man-made here at all. The old highway blended into the ground. Stalks of grass or sprouting trees forced cracks into its pot-hole ridden surface; however, the road looked a little cleaner than it had last time and less recessed into the ground. It almost wasn’t noticeable. Cloud shook his head and kept on.

Gongaga was a place he did not travel often. Far less did he ever go this far south. Hazy recollections from Avalanche’s trek across the planet, or the vaguest memories he took and stories Zack told him, had to be enough for him to follow. Uncertainty made him peer out into the darkness until his mako-stained eyes burned; they could cut through shadows like a knife but even his own would fail eventually when they grew too deep. He listened for the scuttling of legs. For the lumbering of fiends as their packs traveled. Or the scampering of hooves if any deer were awake and moving alongside him. Every scrape of branch against branch, every rustle of the underbrush, spurred him to move faster. It was not fiends that he fears, but the proof of why the Lifestream brought him here.

The road bent further ahead; towards the cliffside it went and roamed through passages long since collapsed by the reactor’s explosion. When the tunnel came into view, Cloud deviated off onto the path which cut through the jungle. Less moonlight filtered through the trees out here than even out on that highway; it only gave enough illumination to coax his eyes into seeing what was underfoot. A Shinra made ramp for the defunct reactor and the Holy Ruins should be just ahead.

As time wore on, the colder the night became. Never did it grow as nippish as winters in the Wastes could—and both felt like being stuck under a heat lamp compared to how cold the Nibel Mountains got—but there was a comfortable feeling of night chill. Better than wading around here during a humid day, he supposed. But there still wasn’t a hint of rain. It was strange when Cloud first noticed it, but nothing had changed even with Mani making his slow race across the sky. Zack used to complain while telling stories about his home how near constant the rainfall was during the early summer. How muggy even the dead of night was. There was always a hint of fondness he had towards everything but—

Cloud was shook from his reverie by a sudden, rhythmic thudding, and chattering that was directionless in the trees. Frowning, he turned his body slowly, trying to decide where the noises were coming from. A flicker of motion caught his eye and in an instant he was crouched into a battle stance with the Fusion Sword half pulled from its harness. Wavering shadows caught his attention. His brows knitted together as he tried to focus on them. Spirits cloaked in wispy shadows danced as near illusions right outside of his sight, and Cloud could only see them is he stared and tried to pull their bodies from the darkness. Their cloaks lay still as death; undisturbed by the wind or their own hovering as they watched him.

Cloud’s hand tightened convulsively around the sword grip. There was not only one wisp, but a hoard hovering all around him. The wind gusted higher, moaning through the trees, yet the spirits still watched on undisturbed. He knew their gaze. They chased him in that nightmare, they were the things that clawed at the bar’s stairwell, and he shivered from the hatred under their faceless hoods. These shrouded creatures despised everyone and everything, everything that lived. Despite the cold wind, sweat beaded on Cloud’s forehead. A flash of green came to mind. Dark feathers and eyes that held the same hatred.

Only when a stray beat of wings caused him to jump did Cloud hear his heart beating in his ears. He drew his sword; the bright meteoric iron glinting as a beacon in the moonlight. Birds chirped and warbled. Monkeys barked at one another and the staccato of thumps came again as they hopped away. Frightened by him and nothing else. The spirits were gone; suddenly vanished like they were little more than hallucinations.

Lowering his blade he took in a deep breath and held it; pulling his focus to himself rather than the shadows confining him, exactly like Tifa and Barret had coached him many times, until his heart evened out and the brief mania slipped away. A hand worked through his bangs while he re-sheathed his blade. “Get a grip…” Cloud muttered. Working up the darkness would do him no good. Those things were not real. The village. Focus on getting to the village.

With a shake he gathered himself, gulping air and scrubbing the cold sweat off his face with the back of his glove. Vine covered ruins surrounding a large mako crystal crowned a cliff off to his left. Rushing water and the distant crash of a waterfall was the singular life-line Cloud clung too as he started out with renewed strength. He did not care anymore why the Lifestream brought him here. If he never found out, that would be fine, just as long as this ended and he got back the life he so desperately fought for.

He’s dead. A memory, and he stayed there. Those things weren’t real. By Fenrir, I broke those chains. Those things weren’t real.

Cloud paused once his feet hit pavement again. This part of the road leading to the defunct reactor was…fixed? He could have sworn there was a massive gap from where asphalt had fallen into the river, and the ramp up to energy storage should be collapsed and overgrown with mushrooms. It looked pristine. Thinking back, the highway had been less overgrown too, but he didn’t feel the need to pay attention to it. Maybe this was part of Reeve making a more active effort to clean up the fallout? They’d need the roads to transport the heavy materials, right? Unease bubbled up in his chest as he tried to look for faults in the repair—seams, newer looking pavement; yet there was nothing except how faded the yellow paint was.

He crossed the bridge then stumbled off the road. Justifications whirled around in his head just as fast as throwing away what he saw did. Repairing the roads made sense, obviously it did. Regardless, Cloud wasn’t going to risk going near the reactor; WRO trying to clean up the damage and years of it settling into the environment did not make processed mako any safer to be around. That damn place held bad memories too. He’d had enough of those for the time being.

Weariness began to seep into his muscles as he stepped over another rock, almost tripped over another root. Fear and his military mind masked his tiredness in the beginning, but though the fear remained—despite his best efforts—the mask began to slip away. Soon he was ignoring his hunger and aching muscles. A hike like this would have been child’s play had he been well rested; a trip through the Lifestream either did not count as rest or it had sapped his strength so thoroughly his body was now stretched past his limits.

In his mind he pictured how he’d explain this to Tifa. Barret might pick up the phone first and yell his ear off for having the audacity to disappear on them again. Then she’d ask him how much trouble he could possibly get in. Both of them so relieved that alone might make him collapse from exhaustion. The kids would scold him for vanishing; he’d be fine with that. It would be another running joke with his other mishaps when they saw the rest of Avalanche again. His deliveries would be a bit delayed—if everything wasn’t at the bottom of a mako pool—but nothing else would have to be. This tiny hiccup would be over.

Old memories kept him moving forward even lost in thought as he was. Memories that both were and weren’t his own as he followed a path he could have walked a thousand times rather than once or twice if he had been Zack instead of himself. There was a rope next to a waterfall. A scheme Zack had set up so he could sneak away to hunt for moogles—or so the story his mako riddled brain recalled went. Water splashed under his boots as he went through the small crick instead of taking a dive into the river. It was tempting. The freezing water might shock his head right.

Cloud let out a relieved sigh when he pushed aside the branch and the dangling rope came into view. Grey first light had begun to brighten the sky now that Cloud could see it, and part of him could not believe he really spent all night traveling the road with not a fiend in sight. The inn and a hearty soup sounded good right about now. He yanked on the rope a few good times to make sure the old thing could still hold his weight, and once satisfied he hefted himself up the cliffside.

Color returned to the jungle with the slow awakening of the sun. Trees and grass which became muddled blue at night turned all shades of verdant green, and the water glittered as-if speckled with jewels. The warmth on his arms and a more gentle wind in his hair also did much to lift Cloud’s spirits. Still, his breath came in labored pants the moment his feet touched solid ground again, and hunger twisted his stomach into a subtle queasy sickness. He could add in rabbits or deer to that stew if the inn had any fresh. When he lifted his head from his quiet gasping, his lips twisted into a small smile at the sight.

The pile of old crates, make-shift training dummies, barrels, and stolen small tables and chairs that made up Zack’s old gym was still here. Sotetsu was no doubt taking care of it—he mentioned training up new kids for the village watch out here last time Cissnei ordered a package. Cloud’s fingers brushed the hilt of the replica buster sword. The real one, surrounded by offerings of flowers and standing vigil over a new lifespring, flashed briefly in his mind as he left the other alone. I miss you so much, buddy. It had been fours years since Cloud last heard Zack’s voice; four years since he said farewell to him and Aerith both one last time. Now that once sharp all-consuming pain had turned to a fond ache. Cloud left the gym behind with little more than a soft chuckle.

Sunlight grew stronger, quicker a-top Magon Hill. A group of false chimera attempted to make Cloud a quick morning snack, but were dispatched before their beady little eyes even fixated on him. He ran with the last bits of vigor left in his sore legs. The paths around the valley were well traveled. Free of debris or other little hazard from generations of all kinds stamping the soil into compact earth. True morning was slow to come. Vaguely he caught the smell of woodsmoke. At least he was almost there if he could smell village chimneys.

A tried smile had only begun on his face, though, when it fell into a frown. A subtle whirring lay heavy in the air. So quiet only ears like his own would be able to catch the difference over the roar of the waterfalls around the village. This noise was mechanical. A sickeningly familiar sound he only noticed after returning to that facsimile of Nibelheim six years ago. His pace picked up into an all out sprint; legs threatening to trip over themselves or the roots of trees allowed to grow along the path as he jumped from ledges or over stairwells to get to the village. A small voice in the back of his head told him to ignore it; said it could only be his tired mind playing tricks as it was ought to do after a nightmare and hallucination made the night linger.

Suddenly the village gate came into view. Two torches burned outside like nothing could be amiss, yet it was only now that Cloud could smell the very faint, very wrong scent of mako lingering in the air. A sleepy village guard raised a hand in greeting before his head lulled back down. It made Cloud’s pace slow, if only to not arouse suspicion. The familiar circular homes with their domed tile roofs of Gongaga village surrounded him and it was here his dread pitted through his stomach turning his queasiness into all out nausea.

There were too many houses. Entire sections of the cliffs which had broken and fallen down into the canyon still stood like calamity had never come to visit them. The river had always braided through the land, but this was the exact place Zack had shown him pictures of. A place which only existed in pictures. His dread intensified upon seeing the running mako generators attached to each house, and people he had never seen living in this village in his whole life sleepily herding chickens or picking up tools to head out to the fields.

A few of the older men stared at him curiously. Children chasing hoops with their dogs or playing early morning tag stopped to gasp then point at him in delight; they shouted something in Gongagan about him being a SOLDIER. Their raucous giggles was the only thing that stopped his gaping, and Cloud flashed them a quick smile before he darted down the street and away from prying eyes. His mouth went dry. More people emerged from their homes or pushed open windows so that the smell of all kind of breakfast mingled in the air. Nothing could distract from the mako. It had been years since he’d smelled so much processed mako. Gongaga outlawed mako energy after…after the—

Cloud’s eyes blew wide. His shoulders pulled taught, the only thing he could hear was his heart in his ears…and the distant whirring that now sounded so unbearably loud. He couldn’t turn around. He didn’t want to turn around. Unseeing he stumbled towards the north gate of the village; his back ramrod straight to not draw anymore eyes or worried voices to his side. The sun no longer felt pleasant. He couldn’t feel it anymore. A phantom chill colder than the night, as cold as those spirit’s featureless faces or the void in his nightmare, froze over his entire core.

Breaths coming in shallow, short gasps he blindly followed the road towards the hill which should have held a village worth of graves and a monument. Only to find neither once he stood at the foot of it. There were still graves, yet none were the pristine marble paid for on Shinra’s gil.

“No…” Choud breathed. “No, no no. No, you can’t fucking do this to me. Gaia please don’t—“

Barely pretending to be military and staying innocuous be damned. He sprinted up that hill so fast a small cloud of dust and pebbles were wretched free from the packed ground, and Cloud nearly tripped over himself from how desperate he felt. The hilltop was completely bare aside from a small field of flowers. He froze right at the edge.

Miles from the village was the massive spire of the Gongaga reactor standing proud if not pristine. Shinra’s logo emblazoned the face of it with the how the scarlet stood out against the black metal and verdant trees. The paint had all but faded away six years ago. A faint green light and smoke billowed from the stack; the reactor now perfectly up and running as-if the explosion had never happened at all.

Chapter Text

Cloud was certain he had lost his damn mind. So far, that was the only explanation for what in Gaia’s great name could be going on. The reactor…. Cloud worried his lip. He resisted the urge to run his hand through his hair again. It’s supposed to be a ruin. Why isn’t it a ruin? His foot tapped rhythmically against the bar’s wood floor, and his nails did the same so rapidly on the table tiny gouges had rut themselves into it. Not being in the reactor’s shadow let him breathe. But his mind still whirl-pooled between so many conflicting thoughts and ideas that he still felt nauseous from it all. He had extracted himself from the hill without causing a scene…but how long could that last?

A small number of people milled about drinking or conversing about cattle, plants, or fiends. Farmer-talk that Cloud was used to—despite how limited his Kamul Gongaga was—and not at all useful to his current predicament. The older folks eyed him with some suspicion. Anyone younger looked at him with stars in their eyes, yet kept a wary and respectable distance. The pit in his stomach got wider when he reasoned why. A SOLDIER First Class would only be here on official business; business from a company that no one in the village would want to impeded despite how jovial the town was overall.

His eyes drifted to the stack of newspapers innocently resting on the bar-top. They fell back to the table just as quick. That same exchange had happened about five times already. What would looking at the date get him? Information, he reasoned. But, then, what use would that be when none of this made any damn sense? Deliberate, slow as he could, Cloud forced himself to take in a deep breath. He closed his eyes, tensed his muscles, and then slowly allowed the strain to flow from his body and be taken by the air. Exactly as Nanaki had shown him. When he opened them again, he could once again see clearly.

The bar had not disappeared in the brief time Cloud calmed himself. It was the same circular brick construction as all the other buildings in the villages. Everything from the floor, to the bartop, to the rafters criss-crossing above him, to the circular tables people lazed at to play cards or have a drink were all crafted from hardwood trees that grew around the village. Material as rare and coveted as their mushrooms everywhere else that wasn’t Gongaga. The selection of spirits and other liquors was also either local or close imports like a Nibel mead Cloud saw poking out from behind the barkeep. Lumilast bulbs—powered by the incessant hum of mako—replaced what should have been candles or a roaring fire in the bar’s cold hearth.

Glancing at the newspapers again, Cloud absently pawed at his bag for his phone. It flipped open without him really seeing it, and he scrolled down his very short list of personal contacts until he landed one name. One person he needed to speak to more than anyone else. Before he could even think it through he pushed the button and the phone began to dial. It rung. Rung again, and then kept on. He gripped the phone. Almost coming to his senses right before there was a sharp ‘click’ and a voice on the other end.

“….Cloud? Cloud…Strife, right?” a small, confused, and far too young, yet so painfully once familiar, voice answered. “You actually called? Do you need—“

He slammed the phone shut. The poor thing croaked out a small plea for mercy as he clutched it so he didn’t fling it across the room. As much as that had been Tifa…that was not Tifa. No, that was a girl who Cloud barely remembered and barely ever knew before they found a friendship forged in fire and blood. That little girl had not been Tifa in a very long time. Unseeing, Cloud returned the phone to his bag. His heart hammered as he finally rose from the table, then he stumbled over to the bar on increasingly unsteady legs as panic and despair wrenched their claws so tight into him they’d never let go again. What the fuck is this? Cloud wondered, swallowing down bile. What is going on and what bastard god thought this was funny? Briefly, his mind thought back to one. A horrific mass of white wings, light which engulfed the crater, and burned into his very soul despite its false divinity; the sight of black feathers and a manic smirk followed. He shoved that thought deep down before it could grow wings too.

The barkeep may have been watching him. She flipped the page of the magazine she was reading, outwardly unconcerned to his plight. Cloud couldn’t care either way if she did notice as he plopped down onto the stool. “The Nibel mead, sasiku.” His gil clinked against the counter, and she snatched it up before turning to the bottles. He ran his fingers through his hair. The glass slid against the wood and he caught it before taking a hearty swing of the sweet-honey liquor. Other meads tried to compare to it, but nothing got the right balance of honey, apples, and spices as Nibel-brewed mead. Every clan had a slightly different recipe—and this was one he couldn’t place—but it easily cauterized his worries. It had been a long time since he’d had any. “Nanri…”

She left the bottle where it was and returned to her lean spot. “You had a rough day, SOLDIER?” she asked in Junonic.

“Mmmm, yeah, sorry.” Cloud sighed at the burn in his throat, and how his anxiety unwound. Fishing around in his brain, he tried to think of an easy excuse; something that made sense for when he was. “Bosses had an old job in for a monster out in the ruins near the reactor. Got too close to the mako, I guess.”

“I heard SOLDIERS were immune to mako.”

He couldn’t help the snort. “Yeah, I wish.”

They fell into silence as the barkeep returned to her magazine and Cloud sipped at his drink. He could hear the conversation behind him turn from the regulars of cow fields and chickens getting snapped up towards him and a few ribs at Shinra and the reactor. “Old thing” this and “growls” that. Something about a daughter who worked out there and how she’d been complaining of a weird noises here and there. If anything, they probably just believed his small fib about the monsters near the reactor, but Cloud’s fingers clenched on the glass as he drank a long draw from it.

In his time, entire parts of the village had been left to rot in the jungle outskirts even after the people recovered as much as they could. Mako laced itself into the air for miles. One could be in the borderlands of Corel and still catch the scent of something metallic hanging in the air. Only hilly terrain and the reactor’s southern location left the village’s water safe to drink and their fields untrarnished—but they were hardy folk. Gongaga bounced back and wriggled out of Shinra’s crushing grip, against all odds. Yet, here Cloud was with the scent of an old mako sickness he’d thought stay buried forever.

He tipped the bottle and watched as the amber liquor refilled the glass. He could do with one more. While raising the alcohol back to his lips, Cloud’s eyes drifted over to the newspaper he saw when he first sat down. Delivering a quick gesture, he took one after the barkeep inclined her head. If he was stuck here the next course of action would be figure out when exactly he was—maybe it could explain what the Planet was staying quiet on.

MIDGAR TIMES

PEACE AT LAST

Months have passed since multiple harrowing attacks by the terrorist group AVALANCHE and the unfortunate passing of SOLDIERs 1-C Angeal Hewely and Genesis Rhapsodos — who were killed in action protecting their hometown against the terrorists. As the city and world grieves, people hope the recent horrors have finally come to an end—

Cloud’s eyes narrowed the further he read into the article. It was typical Shinra news faff and canard—a lot of assurances of “Shinra knows best” “the company will protect you” and other such nonsense—hard to parse and harder to stomach with how much Cloud knew. However…the first section did peak his interest. He couldn’t remember them well, but that had to be the first Avalanche. Anyone from HQ only ever spoke vaguely of the first branch. One could get them to boast about their own activities or raids on Shinra property, but when it came to old leadership or plans not even being Avalanche could get them to spill the beans. It was possible he had allies here. Unfamiliar allies, but allies all the same if he needed to avoid Shinra for awhile.

Then, there was the matter of the SOLDIERs. “Genesis” and “Angeal”…those names sounded so familiar. Like they were just on the periphery of his memory and he could pull them no closer; hazy enough they could’ve been his own or shattered bits from Zack. If they were first classes…there was no way he could have known them personally. Absentmindedly, Cloud’s hand rubbed at his abdomen. A strange phantom ache, a quick flash of white feathers, and a purple-white apple ceremoniously hitting a cold grate floor were dredged up and then fell back into the murky water from whence they came. His young trooper self knew of them at least…maybe.

Crinkling the paper in his hands, he pretended to read whilst worrying his lip. That’s right. If he was in the past, that meant there was a version of him who was kid and completely unenhanced— a kid who’d catch so much shit if Cloud was spotted by the wrong people. Unless…. Nausea curled in his stomach when he turned back to the front:

Published [ ν ] – εγλ 01/14/0002

So, I’m eleven years in the past… Cloud thought. If this paper wasn’t completely out of date—which by the look of the paper it couldn’t be more than a week old—then that meant far more than he was prepared for. Shinra was still at the height of power…but Nibelheim hadn’t burned yet. He still had a few months of wiggle room. This Tifa was none the wiser to anything that would come to pass. His Ma was alive. Sephiroth hadn’t completely lost what little of his mind he had— Cloud’s eyes widened as it all finally clicked into place. And Jenova is helpless and inactive in the reactor. By Ratatoskr’s dark mutterings that’s it, ain’t it? So the Planet wanted him to do a little clean up? Make a world without Jenova for the long term? He roughly folded the newspaper and threw back onto the pile. Snatching his drink from the counter, Cloud threw it back all at once and relished in the sweet-burn one last time before his mind was made up. The glass dangled in his fingers as he pulled it from his lips.

That has to be the way back to them , Cloud decided. Gaia wouldn’t just take me from them permanently…

Clean up Jenova. Keep Sephiroth from poisoning the lifestream. Maybe fix a few other things. Then head home, mark this as another part of his messed up fucking life, and let the lifestream figure out what do with itself. At least if there’s a world where Sephiroth didn’t go insane maybe that’d keep anything that lingered in his world quiet? He didn’t know exactly how the Planet’s conciseness worked, not that anyone did, but he’d done things with less evidence backing them. There was a soft sound once he laid the glass down. “Nanri, again. Needed that drink,” Cloud said before he rose from the stool.

“Not gonna rest or anything? We got beds open, over yonder,” the barkeep gestured with her eyes over to the door of the attached building.

Cloud shook his head. “No ma’am, thank you though.” He flashed her a small smile. “SOLDIER, remember? Don’t gotta worry about me.”

He turned away before she could say anything more and stalked over to the small group of farmers. They eyed him, but made no move to turned him away. Wary folk. “Grateful” folk. Either way his eyes and sword said enough to them. “I need some directions, any of y’all think you can help?” Cloud asked, slipping into as polite Kamul Gongaga as he could get. What he kept from Zack was far too casual, but it worked most of the time.

“Had a rough go of it, SOLDIER boy?” the oldest man of the group piped up first. He was balding with only wisps of white hair still crowing his head. A thick white beard and mustache still framed his face as his wrinkled eyes examined Cloud like he was looking for anything off or tell-tale signs of Shinra. He wore a typical brown khurta with green embroidery around the collar and matching pants underneath. The decorated yellow shawl wrapped around his shoulders marked him as somebody of import—a village leader perhaps. “I’m Nalan.”

Cloud’s smile tightened at a faint memory of Mayor Zander and the man’s incessant worship of Shinra. This man held a similar deference, but at least Cloud could sense some backbone. “Cloud. Cloud Strife. A little bit, yeah. The monsters around here are assholes that’s for sure. Can see why they waited to send me instead of a rookie.”

That got a few hearty laughs out of the group. One woman covered her mouth as she chortled and muttered to the guy next to her how troopers would get chewed up out there—something that even had Cloud’s lips quirk. The elder chuckled as well and leaned forward. “I hadn’t realize anyone put in a request to Shinra but I’m glad you came, youngin’. Very rare to see a first class come all the way out here, the kids would be honored to meet you, if you have time to stay?”

“Oh, I, uhh…” Cloud cleared his throat. “Sorry, no. I actually had something to ask cause I gotta get back out there for another job.” At their deflating and the look in the elder’s eyes like he was about to try convincing, Cloud cringed before he tacked on; “General Sephiroth’s orders.”

“I see…” Nalan said, disheartened. “Well, we can’t go against Sephiroth’s orders. So, what do you need?”

He pushed all thoughts about Sephiroth back into his mind. The man here was not his demon. All there was here was the strangely affable and quiet man Cloud never really knew from the mesh of his own memories and Zack’s; and, while something in him yearned to see if the man he got a glimpse of before the reactor was even real , it was best to stay far away. Instead, thinking back to the mead, more recent interactions back home, and very old memories from his childhood, Cloud nodded. “Have any Nibel traders came by as-of late? I’m Nibelfolk, one of the few in SOLDIER, and we received word from my father’s tribe they’ve had run-ins with dragons.”

They were fibs. Small fibs wrapped with just enough truth to get them through his mouth and keep his voice casual and even. His Ma told him years ago that most everyone in their old tribe had died along with Pa or fled to other tribes or villages in the mountain when he’d raised a fit about how much he hated Nibelheim. He didn’t remember any of it. Shadows of shouting and smoke while his mother clung to him as they ran were all his tiny mind could keep together. He didn’t think on it much growing up, and those memories were even worse for wear now. But he was still Nibelfolk, and they were his best bet to get up into the mountains quickly.

“Oh-ho! Nibelfolk, eh? Not many of you ever leave the mountains anymore…” Nalan’s eyes were full of mirth as he looked Cloud up and down. “Though you have the look of a tribe’s man…not like that village up at the base…” There was a brief pause as the elder seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then he jolted back and nodded at Cloud’s continued staring. “Yes, yes, some traders are doing runs right now. Brought us new tools and other goods for some crops and cuts of meat to take back, winter ain’t being kind to your folk. They should still be by the coast if you’re lucky.”

“That works. Thanks.”

Cloud tipped his head. His hand briefly going to his earring before it dropped and he stuffed it into his pocket. This time when he turned, Cloud ignored their hurried farewells and questions if he wanted to rest first or take any other provisions with him. He’d dallied long enough. The mead gave him enough pep in his step to not burn any more daylight, and the coast was still hours away. For now, the mako in his system tamped down the gnawing in his stomach.

Once his feet hit dirt again, he blinked to make his sensitive eyes adjust to the sunlight, and the sight of the standing reactor on the horizon was the first thing that greeted him. There wasn’t any need for sleep.

Thick vines which had grown over this part of the path easily gave way to his sword. Mako seeped from their wounds as pieces fell to the ground and Cloud pushed his way into the tunnel. Behind him the vines writhed; attempting to repair and regrow with a frenzy only a lifestream surge could provide. Flickers of light danced amongst the brush and branches like embers of a massive wildfire. Animals and fiends alike hooped and hollered around him. He’d never seen a surge in person—they were rare even before the reactors—but all the same he took mental notes to relay back to Chadley once he got home; not doubt the kid would be ecstatic for the new intel.

Past the tunnel, the coast of Gongaga finally came into view. Jungle trees petered out into sandy beach palms. The mountainous flat peaks of the Corel range rose to dominate the northern landscape, until they too gave way to the jagged claws of Nibel and the deep forests which covered the forested valleys. Snow gleamed atop the peaks. From here Cloud could not see the mother mountain nor the reactor which poisoned the crown of her head; yet, he couldn’t shake the sudden desire for “home”.

A humble storehouse for trade sat at the end of the path. About four canoes were moored to the dock, and judging from their shapes they had to be of Nibelfolk make. Cloud slid down the rope connecting the storage tunnel to the lower path. The lifestream’s buzz quieted to a murmur as he left behind the deluge. His boots sunk into the sandy soil. The salt of a sea breeze strengthened the closer he got and the winter air nipped at his cheeks and arms as he left the embrace of the forest. Gongaga’s storehouse was a rustic little thing up-kept only enough to keep mushrooms stored and trade flowing. The teal paint was all but peeled away and the dock had seen better days. The canoes moored there were old too; little vessels dug-out from tree trunks with knot-work and art of running wolves etched into their hulls. Hints of red paint still clung to a hulls as a final reminder of how pretty they would have been freshly finished.

Shouts from the dock made his ears perk. Then, his brows rose in surprise at how close the Nibelig was to how Ma and him spoke. A group of around ten people hurried about placing boxes of furs, rugs, and other trinkets around the in-take area, or taking up bags full of produce back to the ships. A young dark skin man dressed in Nibel clothing shook hands with a Gongagan woman before turning to direct the sailors where to set the things. His hair was a pulled back away from his face and braid in rows. The side-closing blue tunic he wore was embroidered around the cuffs and neckline in red, gold, and green—patterned with Nibel dragons—while the frock he wore was a little closer to something one would find in the general store in Nibelheim. When the floorboards creaked underfoot, and the man turned to look at Cloud. Surprise writ itself all over his face as he lowered his clipboard and raced over.

“Cloud? Af nabhar llan Cloud Strife?” the man said.

Pulling back a little, Cloud’s eyes narrowed as he tried to place who this man was. His mind chucked out memory after memory till finally an image of him and his twin bugging Cloud whenever he was out hunting finally clicked into place. “Ólafur?”

If possible his eyes brightened more. Ólafur and his sister Paisley were some of the few kids to not make Cloud’s life miserable on purpose, but he hadn’t seen him since leaving Nibelheim—not even back home. The man stopped short of Cloud and offered his hand. Cautiously, Cloud took it but that made Ólafur brighten even more. “Fýrr af n’ llan?” he asked.

Tentative, Cloud’s hackles lowered at both the politeness and the use of Nibelig. No one from the village would have ever spoken to him in his tongue or dared to show him any courtesy…but Ólafur wasn’t with anyone from the village. Even a quick glance at them told that. “Na mi mhaddna” Cloud affirmed. “What are you doing here? Last I saw you, you were still clinging to Emilio’s beltloops.”

His acquaintance cringed at that. Dropping Cloud’s hand so he could rub the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “And you’re still the same Cloud, alright…” Ólafur grumbled. “I am sorry about how much grief you got, but I left the village a few years ago. I met a guy when his parents came to town to speak with the council, you know how it is. Paisley was happy for me, but my parents were livid—“ Cloud winced and gave a little affirmative—he knew what Nibelheim was like—as Ólafur waived away all that and gestured at him. “But look at you! You really did make SOLDIER!”

Cloud blinked. “Oh! Yeah! Yeah, I got in not long after I joined up…”

“Thought so. I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve grown up a bit and damn those eyes!” Ólafur smirked as he took a better look. “Crazy shit mako does to somebody, yeah?”

“You have no idea…”

“So why they have you you out in this neck of the woods?” Ólafur pulled his coat tighter around him then crossed his arms. “Especially this time of year?”

All of his confusion and surprise jolted out of his at the question and he suddenly remembered why he was here in the first place. Then about his self-given mission. “I need passage to Nibelheim, Ólafur,” he said. His acquaintance tilted his head. “Shinra needed someone to take a look at the reactor, and I’m one of the few who know the area and won’t die before they get up there.”

Ólafur’s face melted into amusement. “As ever, you are our Cloud Strife. You know that mountain better than damn near anyone. If that’s the case, crawl into the fourth canoe over there. It’ll have the lightest cargo load.”

“For free?” Cloud asked, disbelieving.

“’Course. Consider it a ‘thank you’ for that time you fished Paisley out of the river.” His dark eyes turned a little conspiratorial and much more serious before he leaned in as-if to tell Cloud a secret. Despite his better judgment, Cloud tilted his head down too. “Besides I should probably be paying you for making sure no more monsters crawl out of that reactor, yeah? Weird fucking things have been coming down from the mountain recently and nobody likes the look of it.”

He patted Cloud on the back before pulling away to shout some orders and informing the group they had a passenger. Even if that was what Cloud was doing, the mention of it filled him with a little bit of disquiet. The only sign of anything strange going on had always been the monsters, but they only ever got bad…right around now. Shinra had ignored it. His Ma had told him about that when she called. Said the whole village was up in arms over it, but not one of them could have ever fathomed exactly what Shinra hid up there. This time he’d be alone with the monster. Oddly, that did not make him feel any better.

Chapter Text

A single lamppost, it’s light half dimmed by the grime which covered the glass, stood glowing in the center of town. Deep shadows engulfed most of Nibelheim. Not a hair of moon nor star could be seen past the coiling clouds. Fog curled around the legs of his mount. Her claws sunk into the night snow—kept thin by daily scrappers who piled it all into buckets to add into the water tower. Cloud had pull the chocobo into a slow trot once he had crested the last hill before the town gate. A thick black cloak and hood lay heavy over his body and head; obscuring his form or any other discernible characteristics if a villager so happened to look out their window in the dead of night. He could imagine children using him for ghosts stories. Or adults swearing up and down they saw a wild huntsman only to be scoffed and laughed at. The image didn’t bring him much joy.

Cloud had let his eyes slip closed on the boat ride over. The vast distance between Gongaga and Nibel along the saltway was a journey which could take nearly two weeks under good conditions. The old mako engines on these canoes could take them straight up with few stops, but he’d never make the time they could in the Tiny Bronco. What wouldn’t he give to be aboard the Highwind? Red and grey stone dominated both sides of massive internal river between the halves of the Western Continent—Corel on his right and the vast Cosmo Canyon to the left. Nanaki had once commented on the origins of the seaway while they trekked over miles and miles of the Corel mining complex. How, long ago, the Lifestream itself ripped through the continent in an up-swell. How rocks splintered and sundered as great swaths of land fell into the green abyss of the inner ocean and the Meridian’s water filled in the scar left behind. All three regions shared roughly the same stories—Cloud remembered listening in on old Mrs. Ahlgren recounting it to a group of kids near his home. During the daylight hours, he easily saw the truth in that story. Crystallized mako glittered where it had been embedded into the rocks of the shallows, and part of him could sense the buzz of the Lifestream as it rippled below wounds not yet healed by time. 

Sleep was not something which came easy. Maybe he could catch an hour or two once the sun’s light dipped low enough, but he always jolted awake at visions and fears he couldn’t remember. It twisted his stomach; made any food he tried to keep down turn to ash in his mouth. He choked down a few rations of jerky, but nothing of substance the whole trip. For the most part, he busied himself with watching the stars or counting the lights of each of the canoes to make sure every boat was accounted for. He listened for the screech of Zu or any opportunistic aquatic fiends. When they had stopped in the caves dotting the saltway he kept himself distracted with talking with the crew and Ólafur about the comings and goings of the tribes and Nibel as a whole. Anything regarding Shinra.  Within each conversation he peeled off tiny bits of information about the time he’d been thrown into—things that lined up with his memories or what he’d been told. Amongst which, that the Corel Mine was still operational. Hearing and seeing the coal carts dashing above his head while passing under the twisting tracks, seeing men and women shout and wave down to them as they went on with their work unaware of their future, had given Cloud a lot of pause. The mako reactor’s construction was just beginning. Barret still had both arms—still had his wife. Still had his home, his friend, his life. He thought Shinra could give them a future.

There had been no way for Cloud to sleep after that. It was all the damn little things. Familiar places in ways he’d never seen that dashed all his hopes that if he slept long enough this would’ve turned out to be a nightmare. Deluding himself would have been easy. He could have hissed and cursed and prayed. Ignored all the evidence that the impossible had really happened…he couldn’t do that this time. This isn’t my world, Cloud decided, instead. I may have gone back, but I can get home. I can go home. I just need to destroy Jenova, then I can go home.

Three hours. That was probably all the sleep he had in him over the last leg of the trip by the time they docked at the northern port; maybe not enough to climb a range like that of Nibel’s but Cloud had survived on less. Then, Ólafur’s crew had let him join in on the stew once they had moored at Nibel’s ferry. Spiced pumpkin soup had never tasted so good. Part of him was still warmed from it even with the overwhelming solemnness gusting like a frigid breeze across his heart. A little gil had convinced them to part with a cloak on the trading dock, and it also sweetened the tune of the handler when Cloud requested a bird. The cape was more to conceal him from prying eyes than it was for warmth. Switching his Fire and Ice materia to power Elemental meant heat and small embers spread across his armor to banish even the deepest frost.

The dreary day took on this even worse shade of night about halfway up the village trail. It would make getting through the village an easier task, and it allowed Cloud to ignore the ache in his chest. How the wood of all the homes and shops were hand-hewn in a way Shinra could never emulate with all the technology in the world. The feel of the town was how it was before the fire. He was the only man in a black cloak shambling about. Other than the lamp, few houses in the village still emitted faint light through their shuddered windows and drawn curtains. If not for the dreary snowfall, there might have been still people milling about to watch the lifestream as the river flowed around the mountain peaks. It was stronger in the winter. While the land slept, the Planet’s heart pulsed with the steady beat of life. Now, it was about as dark and dead as Cloud himself felt.

Passing the water tower, he kept his eyes cast down and away from both Tifa’s house…and what was once his home. His Ma would be sleeping soundly. No doubt after a long day of minding her own and fending off the jabs from both the women’s circle and the village council; or maybe she’d been freed of that now that he’d been gone for two whole years. She never told him of her troubles when he had a moment to call back then.

I still hate it here , Cloud thought. His hands tightened on the reigns. But this was my home…

His mother’s eyes were so bright when she pulled the door open and him nervously picking at his gloves. He hadn’t wanted to show his face. Zack convinced him. Ma hadn’t been upset he hadn’t made it into SOLDIER yet; she still kept any strain out of her smile when she told him how grown up he looked in a proper Trooper’s uniform. They didn’t talk about how little she cared for Shinra. He couldn’t really remember what her voice sounded like anymore. She’s sleeping in her bed. October was months away. Cloud clicked to make his chocobo pull itself into a gallop once they passed through the mountain gate. I can’t. I can’t Ma, I’m sorry.

Lifting his arm, Cloud felt the tingle of magic as he caste Haste on his bird. Thick crunches from his chocobo’s footfalls echoed through the quiet forest. Great evergreens towered far above him with their arms reaching out for one another to make a canopy of needles and snow. Darkness and fog covered the ground to where even Cloud could not see farther than his bird’s beak. Skeletal trees intermixed with their healthy kin. None of the forest had been blackened by fire, but the slow decay wrought by the reactor silently choked all of Nibel. He had never seen the woods when they had been healthy. His Ma and Pa’s generation were the last before Shinra came. The place in their stories had never been the garden of life found in Gongaga, but there had once been ancient trees which rivaled the height of the mountains and not an ounce of the underbrush in Nibel had yet been silenced of its life. The lifestream danced along the forest floor or sparked across the mountain peaks in a great storm that sundered the land then changed it forever. Now, Cloud was alone in the dark.

His jaw ached as it clenched. He tightened his hold on the reigns and kept his eyes on the obscured path when wood creaked under the chocobo’s talons. He was at the bridge, and it would only be a little longer until he was on the old reactor path. Going up the entirety of Mt. Nibel would take hours, even with the aid of magic. Over time, the forest began to thin as he reached the massive clearing. Cloud maneuvered his bird around the debris and cliff edges without losing any speed as he raced up the path. As far as the stories went, this was once the bottom of an old sled trail. Winter time leisure and tours up Mt. Nibel was the only reason any of the tribes stuck around outside of blóts to settle in Nibelheim back during the Republic days. Now, no one went up this way at risk of dying from mako exposure or being mauled to death unless they knew what they were doing. Rusty metal pipes and dilapidated buildings jutted from the mountain walls and floor in a menagerie of natural dips and human crafted curves. The glow of mako leaking from the old pipes illuminated the snow. He’d gone up this far only three times in his life. Memories of being in Zack’s shoes and taking the lead to cut through the monsters versus silently trailing Sephiroth as he chuckled at their friend’s over-eager carnage fought for dominance in his mind. Cloud picked out the important details. There was an elevator up in the Mako Measurement facility that would take him right up to the reactor. That sounded a hell of a lot easier than a multi-hour climb.

His bird jumped a twisted beam which was barely perceptible from the snowfall. Cloud glanced over at the massive metal sheets of the retaining wall and thought back to when he’d ran after a much younger Tifa along this very path. Pleading with her through the frustration of unfamiliar words to turn back, and them continuing on anyways. Both the mountain and what Shinra built into it were massive, yet both had loomed even higher when he’d been younger. His trooper self didn’t fear the mountains. The man he was now did not fear them either, but memories and knowledge of the true evil that lurked here requested caution from him.

Pulling his bird to a stop, the chocobo warked and shook her head as she dug her talons into the snow. Cloud blinked and squinted at the wall. There was a fissure that cut through the solid rock to where there seemed to be a clearing on the other side. If his memory was correct, this was the cleft they squeezed through to get to the facility. The rope-bridge ahead would’ve already collapsed by now. He dismounted and petted the bird’s neck while breathing enough frigid air to calm his pounding heart. His fingers twisted into her feathers. She nibbled lightly at his hair, flapped her wings, and coo’d as he lead her to a good enough place to tie her up. A metal pipe he pulled from the snow had to be where she stay for the rest of hike. This elevator would save him the multi-hour trek, but still it had been an ordeal to even get up here. Blood pooled in his frigid cheeks. His cloak rustled in the wind; Cloud tightened the clasp to keep the wool on his shoulders so the mako in his body didn’t need to work overtime to keep him warm in the arctic mountain air. Luckily, he’d never lost his tolerance for Nibel’s winters.

Cloud pressed his forehead against his bird’s feathered neck. “I’ll be back in a bit. Everything will be fine by then.” She warked, then nibbled at his hair again. He took a moment to pet her soft feather, then pushed away with her with a smidge of reluctance. Hopefully, whatever happened after he destroyed Jenova, he’d have time to let the bird go.

Pulling his scabbard free of the side saddle, Cloud settled the blades against his back before pressing himself into the rift in the wall. It was the same one Tifa had led them through after Zack ran ahead to clear out the monsters. Even if his memories were more clear, it was like a grainy filter had been put over everything which had been Zack’s. His own memories of everything that happened up on this mountain had never come back. His friend’s memories still had to fill in the gaps. But at least Cloud knew where he ended and Zack began. Ice and jagged rocks tugged at his cloak; it snagged as his hands and feet pushed him through the narrow opening. Cloud didn’t breath deep again until both his body and the caught threads of his cloak were pulled free of the crevice, and he looked up at the shadowed stone arch above him.

Small lights threaded the cave entrance leading to the Mako Measurement building. Glancing back at the cleft, Cloud’s mouth pulled deeper into a frown as he pulled the cloak tight around him. Wind howled above. The utter silence aside from his footsteps crunching into the snow was thunderous in his ears as he trekked up the path to where the facility towered above him in all its rusted glory. Metal creaked and popped as the wind pelted it. First, he saw the snake-like body of a huge pipe which undulated from the reactor above into the smaller pipes of the facility. Then the rusted facade of the building came into view. Its dirty glass barely reflected the tiny bit of light coming through the clouds. The forest of beams and pipes looks little different from the skeletal tress lining the path, yet even they had more life to them than this rotting industrial complex with trash strewn around and more gravel than a true path. A glint of red of caught his eye. There was a Shinra logo emblazoned into the building.

His cape fluttering in the wind, Cloud walked right up to the control panel. There was a brief moment of hesitation before his hovering fingers moved on their own to type both the command-line and password for entry into the facility with the defense systems disengaged. He typed it with the malaise of doing so a million times before. How he knew the codes…he wasn’t certain. Such information would never have been given to rank and file—not for such a secretive facility primarily controlled by R&D. Hissing from a sudden pang in his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose and quickly let the thought go. I saw Sephiroth punch in the code. Or maybe Zack knew it too, he decided.

The doors slid open with a whine and hiss. Shielding his eyes from the sudden onslaught of light, he blinked till they adjusted and he could finally see the interior if the facility. Piles of trash and broken down heavy equipment lined the walls or were locked up behind gates with their chains still intact. Glass shards from a broken window crunched under Cloud’s boots as he cautiously walked up the stairs. Crates full of cargo and loot still laid undisturbed from looters or monsters. Some were crushed by the splintered remains of stairs that had rotted and fallen apart or were left open by the people who had left the facility behind a long time ago. He glanced up at the rafters. Those sentry creatures sat motionless. All the turrets kept their barrels turned down and showed no signs of even being active. Breathing a sigh of relief, Cloud roughly pressed the button for the elevator.

Its gears croaked and whined as it made the slow ascent. It was still quiet, aside from the steady whir of the heating, when he exited to the upper level of the measurement building. Back then—or in the future he guessed—fiends from the reactor had broken into this part of facility. But despite its dilapidated condition, there wasn’t the scars of damage from monsters using boxes and railings as their personal toys. Rubble littered the ground from where the roof collapsed in. Pooling water from snowmelt and rain coalesced in divots on the otherwise smooth floor. Nibelig and Common signs clung to the walls on rotting support beams; but were smudged with dirt or the signs and letters were barely legible from years of neglect. Mako lay heavy in the air with the measuring pool not far below.

Laying his hand on the hilt of his sword, Cloud listened out for any subtle noises of fiends. He strode over to the staircase with some amount of haste. Regardless if it was monsters—or Shinra spotting him on camera they may-or-may-not have—he was not interested in being delayed any longer. Jenova’s chamber was an elevator ride and bridge crossing away. If anything was his ticket home, torching that freak had to be it. He had to believe that.

Ears perking at a sudden growl, Cloud drew his sword and sliced through the Makonoid that flung itself at him before the creature’s claws got anywhere close. Static in his bones and blood boiled as the monster’s glowing blood splashed onto his cloak. It made a pitful sound as it clattered down the stairs into the pool below. Glimmering flames of mako gas gathered in the air from the open pocket below his feet as he ran up the stairs with his weapon drawn. Two more Makonoids sat hunched over a plume of gas. They chittered and clawed at the grate floor. Groaning in pain with voices that gurgled and croaked as they tried to breath in as much of the mako as they could. Cloud raised his sword once their eyeless faces turned on him. They both let out a horrific scream before pouncing like wounded animals only to be met with each side of the Fusion Sword’s blade. His stomach rolled at the site of their mutated bodies once both of them lay still.

They never did stop finding more of them back home. Labs filled with monsters that used to be animals, fiends, or humans. Escaped bioweapons making trouble around villages were half of the extra jobs he’d pick up even six years later. Any remnants of Shinra R&D kept their heads down and quiet once WRO made it clear their contributions were no longer welcome after Meteorfall. Everyone always knew there was something wrong with this place , he glanced at twisted plating of the monster’s body. People going missing. Helicopters flying over the village all the time during the war.

Covering his face with his arm, Cloud sheathed his sword then stepped over the bodies to get to the elevator controls. It took a few keystrokes to by-pass the gas concentration lock, but ultimately there was a small ding of triumph. Only once the doors slid shut did he let his head fall back against the wall. With a lurch the elevator began the long ascent to the peak of the mountain and he let out a long held breath; each crank of the old rusted gear pulling him skyward he felt tension coil around his chest and ease. This strange turn of events would all be over with soon. A calamity or no, Jenova was nothing but a dead body encased in vat without Sephiroth and his clones to use her powers. Best case scenario he destroys her and then wakes up on the side of the road with a few bumps and bruises; tell Tifa he got caught up in a storm and crashed; and then, mark all this off as a weird dream. Wouldn’t be the first time I dreamed of weird shit , Cloud mused.

There’d be times—especially lying in pain in the church—he’d see Zack or Aerith in a place that felt almost real if ever fleeting. Sometimes Aerith’s home in Sector 5. Sometimes all of them sitting up on the water tower. Sometimes wandering around Midgar. One time, he saw Zack fussing over him while he could do little more than lay on the Church floor. All of those dreams stopped years ago after both of them walked through the church door on Advent Day, and, while part of him missed them, none of them had ever felt as real as this. If Gaia sent him through time, it would be able to send him back. Opening his eyes, he stared at the green light. Beneath him the elevator began to slow. It will send me back .

Mt. Nibel’s jagged peaks were the first thing to greet him once the door slid open. This far up the mountain the fog which blanketed the valleys was far below him and it left only the darkened sky to shadow this once sacred space. Gusts of wind howled as they rose around the peaks, but, aside from that, quiet lay heavy around the reactor. He pulled his hood father down his face while the edges of his cloak caught the breeze and was left plastered against his body or completely pulled away from him. Only the whirl of the generator’s engines and the hiss of the reactor core could be heard over the wind. The coils of barbed wire shuddered against the tops of the fencing. It was eerie the type of silence which could only be heard close to the reactor.

This night felt like the same from when he was a child. Following Tifa right to this spot after they scaled the more dangerous path—the cloak his Pa gave him heavy on his exhausted shoulders—and begging her to turn back as she defiantly stepped on the same unkempt stairway his boots now touched. Careful not to trip over the boxes, sandbags, and coiling brambles that lined the path, Cloud fought the wind to clamor up the steep hill. A shadow appeared beyond the crest after he turned the corner. The main tower of the Nibel Reactor rose almost as high as the very peak of the mountain range, and only one of its smoke stacks billowed plumes of chemical rich gas unique to only the oldest of the refineries. Jagged claws of earth surrounded the entire base. It was like Gaia was trying to rip the reactor into ribbons of metal, yet was prevented by the structure itself as it stole the mako which once sharpened her talons. If Gaia could not act without aid, Cloud supposed his sword had worked time and time again.

Embers of mako floating gently into the sky caught his attention. Then the scent of sulfuric iron. Boots steady on the heliport, Cloud stopped in his tracks as he counted four—no six —dead Makonoids laying prone around the platform. Their glowing purple blood hissed violently as mako was pulled from their bodies. Some of the creatures were torn in half. Others burnt. He took it all in, in the space of one breath, before his boots skid on the smooth stone so he could duck behind that old shed right as a roar split the silence. “Shit!” Cloud hissed.

He pulled the Fusion Sword free once more after another roar and the sound of heavy wing-beats closed in. Checking his materia were in place, he glanced around the edge of the small building right as a massive Nibel dragon landed squarely in the middle of the heliport. There was a sickening crunch when the beast picked up one of the Makonoids and tore off another piece. The dragon was massive. Dark green scales covered its back; each one almost as jagged as the peaks these intelligent fiends ruled. Gnarled horns crowned the dragon’s head that spoke to it’s wizened age and those gigantic grey-webbed wings were covered in scars and tears from constant battles with prey and its own kin. The most striking, and concerning, piece were the glowing green scars littering the dragon’s body. This thing had been wounded and found a mako pool to nurse itself.

Of course those damn things would lure a dragon up here, Cloud thought. He looked around for another way; unfortunately, with all fencing the only path tho the reactor was through the heliport. No matter how skilled one was, no matter what they had faced down, even the most seasoned warriors hesitated before taking on a dragon. Cloud was not an exception to this rule. He listened to the dragon’s heavy foot-pads and growls as it pulled apart its meal. Slipping one of the Hollow Blades free, he steadied himself as he peaked around the shed once more.

Once the drgaon’s back was turned, he moved. Sprinting forward, the sound of whirring gears surrounded Cloud as he caste Haste on himself and there was the burn of mako in his veins as he almost flew towards the beast. It barely had a moment to turn before mako swirled around the Hollow Blade’s edge. The dragon roared when the beam of energy struck it on the face and Cloud swiped at its armored chest with both blades. Cloud spun his body to avoid a swipe from those sharp claws. Mako energy coalesced on the main blade that he sent forth in a rapid fire barrage and each beam cut into the dragon to where it reeled back. Flames licked at the beast’s maw. The mako flowing in it’s own veins glowed and swirled around the dragon as it roared at him and quickly moved in with snapping jaws and a swipe of its tail. Only just holding up the Fusion Sword to shield himself, Cloud’s arm shook from the force of the blow. He jumped back right before the beast’s massive jaws slammed into the space he was standing.

Taking a deep breath, Cloud cast Regen on himself before raising the Fusion Sword to activate the Darkside materia slotted into his bracer. A shimmering dark purple aura surrounded him for a moment, and he could feel the buzz of the materia’s magic both empowering him and sapping away the very Lifestream in his veins all at once. With his Healing materia linked with one of Magic Potency, he could keep this combination up for awhile but it was still dangerous enough he didn’t risk it unless absolutely necessary. With how mako energy flared in the dragon’s body, this was probably one of those times. He jumped back when another swipe came down. Energy gathered on the dragon’s claws as it sundered the very air around them in its furious attempt to down him. Wincing at the sudden gash in his arm, Cloud kept his distance. He sent burst after burst through his sword as both he and the dragon danced around the heliport; and only once the dragon reeled back with flames gathering in its maw did he send a Sonic Boom to counter and flinch the beast. A new strength filled his bones as he closed in on the dragon with thrust. It struck true between the plates crossing the dragon’s chest, then, he used both blades to gash its hide in a flurry of three swift strikes.

The infuriated monster gnashed at him—almost clamping its jaws down on his shoulder and getting a hit in with its spiked tail—before it released a torrent of fire directly down at the ground where he stood. Holding up the Fusion Sword, Cloud smirked at how the flames renewed his sapped strength as they could not even singe his armor. His Elemental materia buzzed greedily, and the dragon roared in frustration as it seemed to realize he was impervious to its most dangerous weapon. Steam from the melted snow and ice blanketed the platform. The dragon stared him down, its fangs and eyes glistening from the glow of fire and mako, while it tried to ascertain the true threat he posed to it. Bright red blood tinged with green poured from its wounds. The pause gave him a chance to really consider the beast. Those healed scars were at angles too awkward for other monsters to have made, and many of them far too clean to have been made with fang, claw, or wild magic. Narrowing his eyes, Cloud glanced warily at the looming reactor before the dragon hissing recaptured his attention. With a beat of its powerful wings, the dragon flew into the air. Cloud cursed, then ran to reorient himself right as the dragon slammed its body into the heliport. Concrete splinted and cracked under the force. He raised both blades for a more defensive maneuver against the rapid strikes of the dragon’s claws and tail; and it kept itself just out of reach of any attacks Cloud sent whether they be swipes of his sword or the energy beams he conjured. If I could get into the air— Cloud grit his teeth in frustration. Without his teammates to back him up, he’d need to make do. I’ll just bring the damn thing down to me.

Sheathing the Hollow Blade for a moment, Cloud raised his hand and felt the buzz of materia alight in his bracer has he fed mana into the orb. Freezing cold magic gathered on his finger tips. He kept his feet planted as the dragon beat it’s wings once more and dove for him with jaws and claws outstretched. Feeling the orb buzz one last time, Cloud unleashed the energy in the form of a massive shard of ice that encased the dragon and exploded. With a screech, the dragon fell from the air to collapsed onto the platform below. He pulled his secondary blade free once more then rushed in on the downed beast; sparks of lightning coated the Fusion Swords as he delivered swift and fierce strikes to the dragon’s hide then flipped into the air so he could bring both blades down onto the monster’s head in a blow which splintered the ground below. There was a sickening crack as one of the dragon’s horns was sundered from its body.

Landing on both feet, Cloud took deep breaths as he levied his swords at the beast. The dragon’s claws scrapped against the concrete as it stumbled to its feet. Blood dripped down its face. Its maw trembled in rage as it regarded Cloud with those feral and intelligent eyes, yet he did not flinch or back down from where he stood. He knew it would take one last strike to bring the beast down. The dragon growled, then backed away from him. Blood splashed onto the ground as it spread its wings again, yet they were able to lift it into the air as it turned tail and retreated far into the caves of the mountain. Cloud watched it run with a sigh. It wasn’t normally in his interests to let fiends escape, but with the dragon so heavily wounded it was more likely to be caught as prey or keep its distance from any other humans for the time being. The last thing he needed was for a Materia Keeper to be attracted by the scent of decaying dragon while he dealt with Jenova.

Thunder cut across the sky as Cloud returned the Hollow Blade and re-sheathed his sword. He looked around at the sky; lifting a hand to catch the fluttering snow while thunder and lighting lit the peaks in brief flashes. He’d have to act fast. Retrieving the broken dragon horn, then stepping off the heliport, he strode up the bolder covered path to the rope bridge. He stuffed the horn into his bag. The pillars of the bridge support came to view first. Then, a flash from above alighted the towering reactor across the ravine. All the crashes of thunder did not help the feeling of trepidation and loathing Cloud had for walking into that building again. Frayed ropes creaked as he set foot upon the bridge. His boots sunk into the gathered snow. Each step was both agony and determined as he kept his eyes forward on the hellish monument of steel and death.

Kill the alien. I get to go home. I get to see my friends again. I get to go home. The mantra repeated on loop in his head while the bridge swayed under his weight and the weight of the snow. He could hear the rushing river below him. The same one he fell in when the bridge gave way, and Zack saved him while Sephiroth held onto Tifa as they watched a man drown under the current. He had watched Sephiroth’s body collide with the reactor wall, and the mad SOLDIER bleed out and drown as the mako pool consumed him whole. He had pulled his broken body to Zack and Tifa before he passed out. The next five years were flashes of agony between long spans of nothingness. All of it started with that damn thing in the reactor. Maybe casting a rain of Comets upon it while it could do nothing but passively stare at him would feel half as good as listening to its screams when Avalanche tore it apart all those years ago. Maybe the Sephiroth in this world would live out his life never knowing that thing as his “mother.” Cloud’s laugh was little more than a bitter hiss.

The hiss of steam overrode the distant thunder now that he was on the other side of the bridge. Generators thrumming with electricity and the scent of mako lingered heavy in the air. An oppressive weight bared down upon his shoulders as he gazed up at the brick and metal structure and scaled the long causeway to reactor steps. Pipes slithered like snakes down the side of the main tower into the dark underbelly of the mountain where the lifestream rivers once flowed without diversion. Two large heavy doors enclosed the inside of the reactor from the outside. This one was very much unlike the labyrinthine reactors of Midgar; however, it was infinitely more locked down and secretive. Back then, Sephiroth explained to Zack that no one aside from R&D scientists were allowed past the doors; and Cloud remembered the times he’d eavesdrop on the old men of the village grumbling how Shinra betrayed Nibelheim after they broke their backs to build the manor and reactor—only for Mayor Zander to remind them Shinra paying its dues was the only reason the village wasn’t stricken with abject poverty. We could deal with run of the mill poverty I guess, Cloud grimaced.

Ignoring all the warning signs to stay out, he popped open the control panel for the doors and shorted it with a small jolt from his Lightning materia. The doors shuddered open with little protest. For good measure he traced the wires for the security system, used one of the side daggers of his sword to cut open the protective coating, and also delivered a quick jolt to that. He knew this reactor did not have the turrets like others, but bio-weapon signals could do the trick if Hojo was in the mood to protect his most precious specimen. Cloud lips curled in contempt at the thought of the scientist being alive here. If he had time after this…maybe he could visit Midgar to break his spine. His fingers lingered on the panel at another thought. Zack and Aerith were there too.

Cloud sighed. “She doesn’t know me…” he muttered. “Zack only knows that kid…and I can’t mess up his life.” He pushed away from the wall with a tad of bitterness. He would give so much to see them alive and well again. They had given everything for him and Gaia both. But if they had a chance in this world—it wasn’t worth it to mess with more than he needed to; not when they could have a full life to live here and he has people he needed to get back to. Aerith told him to stop living exclusively in the names of ghosts, and he intended to keep that promise.

The reactor was strangely cold once he stepped inside. It did not nip at his materia warmed body like the mountain did, but unlike the facilities lower on the mountain there was a lack of heat with the inside barely warmer than the winter air. Whirring of mechanisms and the spray of steam deep within the reactor core were the only noises he could hear. No longer did the rolling thunder take up any space. Cloud almost stopped in his tracks. His eyes blown wide as his heart hammered in his chest from pain and memories dulled by years and distance. He shook out his hands. Frozen like a rabbit caught in a hawk’s shadow, he thought scornfully. Knowing what he had to do, aware of all the horrors he had already surpassed, did not stop him from fearing this place.

Cold blue lights shown down on the dreary, rotting first floor. Rubble from chipped bricks or fallen support beams littered the floor in a pattern which almost appeared practiced and fake. The puddles of water on the floor, the dirtied signs, the forgotten equipment locked behind barbed wire was little more than a ruse to deter curiosity from the village or Shinra laymen. It was small work to move over to the elevator and type in the final passcode to unlock the lower levels. An innocent, quiet ‘ding’ and the doors sliding open felt like a death toll on a move that would either mean freedom or conclude as the worst decision of his life. His only solace was knowing Jenova should be inert in her vat. He didn’t feel the buzz in his blood her presence normally brought. That was enough to give him hope this would be an easy job. Cloud started up at the green elevator light as the gear box grinded and shuttered at his descent into the maw.

The red glow of the lights underneath the grate floor and lining the walls made strange shapes out of his shadow and hid the darkest corners of the lobby. This room stood in stark contrast to the charade above. Not even a layer of dust coated the pristine walls and wires of the lower levels. His footsteps echoed off the walls as he made his very careful advance towards the heart of the reactor. Looking to his right, he frowned with his head tilting to the side in confusion. Both of the doors to the inner chamber had been left open. Without any keycard access, Sephiroth and Zack had to pull both of them so hard the locking mechanism shattered; yet, the way wasn’t blocked like it should have been given the date. He could see the ladder and back wall of the mako pool room clear as day. Gripping the hilt of his blades, Cloud advanced with cautious and wary steps; he listened for anything amiss through the hissing steam and hum of electricity. Aside from his own footsteps, there was naught but silence. No ghosts to hound his steps. No whispering in his ears. Not even the scurrying of monsters who had clearly escaped their tanks.

He unsheathed his blade once his feet hit the grate floor. Fear clawed at his throat when he saw the heavy metal door to the sanctum was also open. Not clawed apart by monsters like it was all those years ago, but quietly left ajar like it was the door to any random room and not the holding cell of the calamity. Abandoning his caution, he all but ran across the causeway. This room was also silent. There wasn’t a sign of anything amiss or out of place aside from the door. A few of the materia tanks had their doors blown off and lying is pieces around the room, but all the others glowed with that eerie, vile color of tainted mako as they continued to incubate their victims. Cloud did breathe a sigh of relief upon looking up the stairs. The door to Jenova’s chamber was still locked.

Lifting his sword, Cloud lined the blade to the menagerie of tubing and wires which fed the tanks. Even with his memories so hazy and sparse, he couldn’t help the vision of himself weakly looking over at Zack. Or being so limp and unable to help himself as his friend carefully pulled him away from the draining tank and shards of glass. I’m doing these things a mercy. Blue mako flames gathered along the edges of the Fusion Sword as he stared and counted each of the still running incubators. Pulling back the sword, he threw the energy forward and sundered all of the pipes in one smooth cut. Mako gas sprayed from the pipes and doused the floor in a thick mist. An alarm began to blare overhead as the lights dimmed to dismal and dark red. However, Cloud paid little mind to any of it as he focused in on Jenova’s name and climbed the stairs; each step he grew more determined to see that alien freak burn.

Tifa’s broken body flashed in his vision. He stopped and stared at the spot where he swore she was bleeding out before he shook his head and vision vanished. The acrid smell of mako filled his lungs. It was difficult to ignore how his head swam from it. How his eyes watered or how he swore he saw Zack or those robbed ghosts quietly watching from the shadows. In a blink each vision was gone. Not a single one was real despite how his mind doubted it. Keep yourself together damnit. Now is not the time, Cloud grit his teeth and forced his legs to finish the ascent. He could deal with this. It was just a little longer.

Hastily he dropped to his knees in-front of the door control panel. He placed his sword down and removed one of the side blades to cut away at the panel door. Wrenching his blade between the sheet of metal and the wall, Cloud grit his teeth and pushed on the blade to force the screws to rip free from the wall. What should have been child’s play felt a monumental task. His head swam and ached. Shadows stretched and elongated themselves along the walls and floors; the steady staccato of the alarm sounded like a whisper or agonizing cry as it rose and fell. Angrily he berated himself. This was no time to focus on his mind’s own shadows. How many times had it played tricks and made him worry his family over specters which weren’t real? If he could kill Jenova at her strongest point, he destroy a corpse in a vat. Finally the panel gave way with a sharp yelp. It skittered across the floor in a spray of sheet metal and screws, and now he could see the guts of the door’s lock controls. This would be as simple as it was outside.

Slicing open the rubber coats, lighting magic danced across Cloud’s fingers as he raised his hand. Arching and sparking to catch the exposed wiring before his gloves hovered a mere hair’s breath away from the wire; then, a short caught and the red light above the door died out. Grabbing his sword and hoisting himself up he swayed as the doors to the sanctum slid open without any more fanfare. His stomach flipped with nausea. Each breath caught in his chest. His gloves slid across his brow with sweat beading at his forehead and his limbs suddenly feeling too much like lead. “What the hell is—“ Cloud gasped out.

Then, a sharp scream hissed in Cloud’s ears. It was worse than nails on a chalkboard or metal scraping against glass, and it made him fall to his knees as his sword clattered against the reactor’s grate floor. His breaths came out in sharp pants. He clutched, tugged, pulled at his bangs to force the pain splitting open his skull cease. But it wouldn’t. Instead his body wailed as a familiar—disgusting—feeling brought bile to his lips and horridness sapped all the strength from his very bones. He gasped on the mako laced air. The forced-open door now a blurry afterthought as he crumpled.

Faintly, he could hear footsteps. Slow, methodical, and far too loud compared to the screeching in his mind, yet Cloud could hear each heavy step so clearly even with the hum of the reactor having been silenced. One of his hands scratched at the grate; so frantic the leather of his glove threatened to be torn open. Whether it was to pull himself up or drag himself away he could not tell which, yet his only thought was to do something as the nightmare made its slow march towards him. Paralyzed from the pain, he knew he was choking on screams he couldn’t fully force out of his throat. His fingers desperately reached for the hilt of his sword. Even the dagger would be enough. Both were an infinite amount of space away from where he lay.

“How…interesting.” A deep voice spoke directly above him.

Frozen, Cloud’s heart beat wildly at how familiar that malice filled voice was. He knew who was here even before he spoke. He could feel it the moment he collapsed, the grit of the demon’s control scraping his bones, even before a large hand gripped his shoulder, ripped the hood from his head, and forced him to turn and look. Sephiroth loomed above him. His lips twisted into a familiar, cruel smirk. The red lights cast strange patterns over his gaunt face; made his sunken eyes and silver hair glow with a malignant glow. His armor pristine it had always been before and after each death.

“Of all the things to find in this world, I am not surprised one could have been you, Cloud,” Sephiroth said, clear amusement dripping from each word.

Each new second of horror left Cloud trembling. “How…are you…?” Every word was stilted and had to be dragged past his lips against the wishes of his body. “You’re not real. I— I…killed you! It’s been so long how are you—“

Sephiroth’s smiled somehow turned even more cruel as a glowing brand of pain ripped through Cloud’s head and put a stop to his weak questions. The monster’s fingers drifted across his cheek. He could not cringe away even with the conscious pieces of his mind begging him. “So you did. Yet, I bade you a promise, and Mother saw fit to fulfill it in ways only she could.” Sephiroth’s chuckle was low in his throat. “How she pulled me from the Lifestream’s clutches and even delivered you to me, puppet….truly, I am but a thankful son.”

“The Sephiroth here! He—“

“Is gone,” Sephiroth’s hand moved to Cloud’s hair. “How strange it was, to wake up so long in the past. To watch his body conform to mine. I can assure you Cloud, I am no illusion; not this time.”

Slowly, Sephiroth stood. Cloud could only watch as the demon gazed wistfully up Jenova’s emblazoned name and the chamber just beyond the door he opened. He placed a hand to his heart. “I’m here, Mother…” Sephiroth’s nigh monotone voice was filled with enough affection to make Cloud shiver. “I can only apologize for allowing them to separate us. But no more will you be alone—“ He glanced down at Cloud; that ever present smirk not leaving his face. “Stay there, puppet. As much as I would love to play with you, I have a reunion to complete.”

The demon’s footsteps receded into the reactor and left Cloud reeling from the suddenness of Sephiroth’s appearance. That sickening promise clattered around in his mind. Why did he allow himself to believe nothing was amiss? That getting ripped away from his family didn’t spell disaster or that the demon hadn’t been watching him the entire time. Shaking, his fingers curled into a fist. Cloud grit his teeth so hard he worried they might break, but after so long of peace ripping control of his body from Sephiroth’s control felt a war of attrition he had win piece by piece. The grates beneath him shuddered and wavered. He forced his legs under him. Lifting his sword caused his muscles to scream and his arms to shake at the sheer weight of the weapon, yet kept his trembling body upright and made himself walk. Distantly, the sound of sheering metal could be heard over the blood pounding in his ears. Sephiroth was close to Jenova. He tore her effigy away and cast it aside just as he did at the start of all of this.

I need to kill him, Cloud lifted his sword so he could strike. His race forward was agony against the weight which tried to drag him down. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him—

Another shock caught his legs out from under him. Cloud almost fell when a new kind of oppressive weight overwhelmed all his senses and caused him to stumbled before his attach could strike true. Fury washed over him. Flooded every other emotion he could possibly feel in this moment. He clutched his head. Against the high pitch noise and blackout causing pain, he looked past where Sephiroth stood motionless at the height of the pipe bridge. His eyes widened in shock. The feeling conjoined with rage. Jenova’s tank was empty.

Chapter Text

The reactor seemed to quell to a silence. Both Cloud and Sephiroth stood in shocked stillness as they stared up at the empty tank like it would suddenly change if they looked long enough. Confusion dominated all of Cloud’s thoughts. Everything he believed about why he was here collapsed into a pitiful heap as the vat remained hollow despite his eyes rapidly blinking to check if this was a hallucination. But, no. Jenova was gone. Even the mako solution she had been kept in was drained away leaving a husk of glass and wires.

His body shook. His sword almost shaking in his grasp while his mind jolted between bewilderment and the rage boiling in his core. Laughter might have bubbled past his lips. Not like he could tell with the high pitch whine screaming in his ears which drowned out everything else. What the hell? Cloud asked himself. Where is she? He barely felt in control of himself. Eyes glazed over from the tumult of emotions consuming him, Cloud barely registered how still Sephiroth was only a few paces in-front of him. Where is Mother?

His free hand went to his head; his leather bound fingers pressing against his skin like they could staunch the blood pounding in his veins. Cloud’s chest shook as he gasped for breath. Suddenly Sephiroth turned, and only then did Cloud understand the molten rage burning in his chest. A vicious snarl replaced his statue-esque smirk showing off his sharp, bared teeth behind twitching lips; those slitted irises were so thin Cloud could barely seen them against the glowing acid green. No one other than Cloud would have been able to perceive the tremble in Sephiroth’s shoulders and hands. Panicked, he took an unconscious step back. He knew cold malice. He knew the demon’s deranged amusement. But not even during the night of Nibelheim’s destruction had he ever seen Sephiroth consumed by this kind of manic fury. Hatred directed singularly at him.

Cloud had only a moment to raise his sword before the full force of Masamune slammed into him. Sephiroth had summoned his sword and pounced on him faster than he could blink; now his arms and legs trembled in the effort to push back against the demon’s weight as Sephiroth bore down on him like he wanted snap the Fusion Sword to pieces. This close, Cloud could hear the growl coming past Sephiroth’s gritted teeth. Using what little leverage he had, Cloud pushed the flat of his sword into Sephiroth, forcing the man back, and then twisted his arm to deliver a quick series of slashes. While the first one clipped Sephiroth’s cheek, he recovered to block each successive strike. Not even for a flicker did the rage slip away from the demon’s features. The same din of anger pulsed in Cloud’s blood like it was the one thing keep his heart beating.

Their swords clanged and clashed from their dance around the reactor core—not once did Masamune find its target nor did Cloud put another cut into Sephiroth’s already healed flesh. Sparks flew from their blades from the mako energy which coalesced on their edges. Feeding mana into his Enemy Skill materia Cloud sent forth a burst of wind to break the beam of energy right as Sephiroth released it from his blade. Slipping a side blade out from the main, Cloud jumped through the swirling purple mist to catch Masamune with his side arm then only just missed slicing through Sephiroth’s neck as the man turned his body to avoid the blow. Cloud growled; it being drowned out by whirling gears they both cast Haste.

Metal screamed and gave way as explosions of magic from their materia and bursts of mako sundered wires and plates from the walls. Deep gashes meant for the other tore through the reactor. Neither Sephiroth nor him felt on the backfoot or like they had the advantage. For as long as it had been, Cloud’s hands and mind knew well the singular flame to focus on when it came to Sephiroth—both how to match him and his desire to cleave the monster’s head from his shoulders. Lighting cast from Cloud’s hands ricocheted and arched from seizing wires as he missed a Thundaga. Sephiroth was a blur of black and silver, but Cloud not let him leave this reactor alive. Not with Nibelheim, his ma, and a young Tifa helpless at the foot of the mountain. He thrust forward with his blade; frustrated when Sephiroth caught it and parried it away. Without even a hint of exhaustion, Sephiroth flew into a series of strikes in every direction his sword could reach, ones which Cloud could only try to dodge and run from instead of blocking and hoping for an opening Sephiroth would not leave.

In his own blind anger, though, Cloud missed a tiny change in Sephiroth’s expression. Calculation and patience beneath the fury. He did, indeed, drop his sword arm enough to leave a small opening, and Cloud’s sharp eyes picked up on it as he tried to raise both his weapons to exploit what he thought a blunder. Only to see Sephiroth’s eyes narrow…and realize too late what kind of mistake he made. So fast it felt like the man teleported, Sephiroth forced himself into Cloud’s space and slammed his knee into his stomach. Instantly winded, his eyes widened in shock. The Hollow Blade dropped from his hand—he barely kept the Fusion Sword in his grasp—and clattered to the floor right as Sephiroth reeled Masamune back. The blade thrust forward, right under his pauldron, ripping through Cloud’s shoulder with a sickening sound as muscles and tendons split from Sephiroth forcing the blade through. Blood gushed from the wound. Cloud screamed out from the pain yet it got mixed into the reactor’s agonizing cry when Masamune broke through the red pipe leading to Jenova’s vat and pinned him to it.

His boots barely scrapping the floor, Cloud dangled on the blade as Sephiroth stared him down. Using both hands, he pushed more of the sword through Cloud’s shoulder and not as much as a smirk broke out on his face listening to Cloud scream and jerk from the pain. Cloud’s breath caught in his throat. The Fusion Sword finally landed useless on the ground as his muscles spasmed and his arm went numb. His left hand went to the sword; pawing at it in desperation like he could dislodge himself or at least stop the pain radiating from the wound.

“I wouldn’t do that, puppet,” Sephiroth hissed. His voice filled with genuine vitriol as he spat out that derogatory nickname like it was a curse. Despite wanting to look anywhere but, Cloud’s eyes snapped to Sephiroth’s face. “Mako and Mother’s grace only extend so far. Now…where is she?”

Eyes twitching from the overwhelming urge to shut them and his body being unable to comply, Cloud could not consolidate his thoughts fast enough to even attempt an answer. All that came out was a choked cough. The copper taste of blood pooled in his mouth. He tried to dredge up any reserve of mana he could find in himself to try and at least cast Comet or maybe unleash Mind Blast if he could find enough. So what if it ran the risk to collapse the reactor on them both? If he could take Sephiroth out then it was worth it. Right as he could feel a tiny spark from his materia, Sephiroth’s right hand slammed next to his head, and Cloud flinched away from it feeling his concentration slip away as fear finally found a hold over him. He had killed this man three times over. Yet, here he was feeling like that trembling child dangled on Masamune all over again. His rage remained. It simmered and boiled in his chest as looked into that monster’s eyes—and found hatred reflected right back at him—but it couldn’t burn against gales of terror forever.

“Answer the question, Cloud. Where is my mother? Why is she not in her tank? What did you and this traitorous Planet do?!”

His own faced twisted into a snarl. Cloud grit his teeth at the pathetic hint of desperation in Sephiroth’s voice—it sounded too much like those remnants of his. Almost like Kadaj when his plans started to fall apart. Bratty. Petulant even. He gathered the blood in his mouth and spit it on Sephiroth’s face. “Fuck you,” Cloud gasped out. “Pissed off cause things didn’t go as you planned? Preach to the gods damned choir—“

He was cut off by Sephiroth yanking Masamune from his shoulder. The suddenness tore a scream from him but Sephiroth silenced that as well by wrapping his hand around Cloud’s throat. Feeling too much like a wounded rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, he gripped and scratched at that hand, thrashing in the monster’s grip as Sephiroth pried him from the tube and carried him to the edge of Jenova’s chamber. He tried to hold on to the little breath he had left. Tried to lift any of Sephiroth’s fingers enough so he could take more than tiny gasps. Wrapping his own hand around the monster’s wrist, he squeezed with enough force which would have shattered the bones of anyone who wasn’t the enhanced devil holding him. Not for a second did Sephiroth’s eyes leave his face. He walked forward unperturbed by his thrashing prey or the dripping blood. Only once he stopped did Cloud freeze.

Mako stirred and hissed only mere yards below him. The glow from the pool bathed both him and Sephiroth in a sickly green. With the lights of Jenova’s chamber far past them Sephiroth’s incensed expression was carved out only by the mako below them both and the deep shadows of the dismal reactor core. While he stood up against the railing he dangled Cloud over the pool in just the right way where he’d never catch the rails or grate in time to save himself. Cloud knew how deep the pool ran. Eyes blown wide, he attention shot straight back to Sephiroth. There was not even a hint of amusement or play on his face as he glowered at him. That hand grew tighter the moment Cloud’s heart began to hammer wildly.

“Oh? Is that fear I sense, Cloud? Gaia’s champion finally afraid for his life now that he has no one left to save him?” Sephiroth’s voice was slow; not teasing nor haughty but in the way one could only find in hatred. “I wonder how you would feel. Dying in that mako pool—“

“What the hell…do you…want?” Cloud choked out.

“I want you to tell me what you know, puppet. We did not get pulled back without reason, and now Mother is missing! What do you know?”

Only once Sephiroth’s grip receded enough to allow him a few desperate breaths could he even begin to gather his thoughts. Most were unhelpful—tinged with fear and memories of fire and faint whispers of his ma and Tifa’s screams. Between the pain and every hazy anxiety he could not think straight. The hand around his throat was still tight enough his vision pulsed with black dots. “I don’t fucking know anything you crazy bastard!” Cloud spat out, panicked. “I-I woke up here alone. I came here to do exactly what you think, but I don’t know where she is!”

His panic stricken breathes don’t stop for the next few moments where Sephiroth stared and stared and stared at him as-if he was trying to parse out any riddles or lies from Cloud’s simple declaration. Irises twitching, lips curling back into a snarl once more, and a slight tremble in his shoulders were all Cloud had before Sephiroth screamed in utter frustration and threw Cloud across the room like he was little more than a poor ragdoll. Back hitting the same pipe he’d been pinned to he landed with a pitiful thud. The only thing his battered body could do was gasp for breath after breath as his shoulder burned—both from mako attempting to stitch him shut and the remnants of magic from Masamune forcing him to bleed—and his ears rung. Faintly, he could hear Sephiroth’s furious growling and frantic pacing. Cloud blinked away spots of black as he tried to keep his focus on his swords. He’d been in this situation before. Broken and battered with naught but drops of strength left in him. Hands numb and trembling, he still tried to pull himself forward enough to wrap his fingers around the hilt once again.

Only once he had it in his grasp did Cloud look up at Sephiroth. The monster ran his hands through his long hair as he paced with tiny furrowed glances up at Jenova’s empty vat every time he turned to face it. The pulse in Cloud’s head became a constant beat of pain and panicked feelings. Sephiroth’s face couldn’t be read from where Cloud was lain on the floor, but it was not like he wished to see the bizarre fury warping his adversary’s usual aloofness. Sephiroth seemed to pay no mind to Cloud slowly hauling himself to his feet. Too consumed by whatever thoughts were whirling around in his sick little head. He even turned his back on Cloud as he paused to stare up at the tank and then finally turn on his heel and stalk towards the chamber door.

Masamune vanishing in a cloud of smoke and purple embers, then the wisp of Sephiroth’s hair as he strode away with purpose, were enough for Cloud to hiss in fear as the feeling of fire curled around his limbs; and the smooth metal and cold lights shifted to a sickening orange hue and charred, twisted wood. Suddenly finding the strength to stand, ignoring how his still numb arm shook, he hefted both the Fusion Sword and the Hollow Blade to a position to strike once more. They took her from me. Keeping Sephiroth’s back in his sights he ran forward as quick as his protesting limbs would allow—still faster than most people would be able to perceive. I won’t let you take them from me—

Only to stop dead upon his swords crashing against a hexagonal shield of mako, Scintilla erupting to knock both blades away from hitting their mark without any more ceremony than that, and feeling the real heat of flames searing past his face to explode in the room behind him. Blue and white-yellow flames and sparks of lighting coiled around Sephiroth’s fingers. Finally the man smirked—his face lit only by the embers as the explosion had knocked power out the power in Jenova’s chamber—as Cloud’s own expression was twisted in horror as he stared down Flare. Casting the spell simply for show did not even phase Sephiroth in the slightest.

“Careful now, puppet…” Sephiroth drawled. He moved his hand in a taunting manner as the materia continue to glow in his bracer. “I will not fall for the same tricks twice. You have run out of time, Cloud, so I would consider your next decisions cautiously.”

Caught between the glow of Flare so close to his face, the seeping dread of realizing he has nowhere left to go, and his utter weakness from the fight leaving him, Cloud finally deflates as his swords are lowered and Sephiroth’s smile turned content. He’s right. Damn him to be picked apart by vultures, but he’s right, Cloud knows. Unlike himself, Sephiroth remained pristine with not a ruffle present in his armor or a wound anywhere on his body. Typical of the man, yet gave Cloud nothing except a sense of dread as he knew how his entire being ached, and and his injured arm could only lift his sword as long as fear, the flame, and the void kept him focused on his enemy. Exhaustion piled within his bones. Days of barely any sleep, only alcohol for drink, and enough food to simply keep him upright crashed into him all at once while he stared down the demon who’d finally ceased playing with his food. He felt the part of Fenrir; when the proud wolf was finally bound by chains that he could not break.

“Don’t…” Cloud pleaded. It was quiet.

Sephiroth made a noise as-if he hadn’t heard Cloud. He tilted his head to listen if he was spoken to again, yet his ghastly face was still twisted into a cold and amused grin—this look was one which Cloud knew. But when he refused to speak, Sephiroth chuckled. Almost purring as he asked; “Don’t do what, puppet? Have you relive those perfect memories of your hometown burning around you?” His grin only widened as Cloud’s breath quickened. “Pin you there as I burn your mother alive and she begs for me to spare your life? For you to run? Make you watch that little cowgirl die beside her pathetic father? Is that the despair you seek to avoid?”

All he could do was take another deep breath, to force his face into an expression his adversary hopefully could not parse and pray his twisting heart gave away none of his fear. Pointless. “Don’t,” Cloud repeated.

“And why should I not give you the gift I promised you, Cloud?”

It was there that he paused. The question lingered in the air. Dangling in front of him as bait which he had no other choice than to swallow until it caught in his stomach and killed him. Sephiroth remained perfectly still as Cloud stared him down. He would not wait indefinitely. But, he regarded Cloud with curiosity. For once, perhaps, he wanted to know how Cloud would solve one of his no-sum puzzles. He wants you to screw up, Cloud knew that deep in his chest. You can do this. Don’t let him phase you. Don’t let him win this. It almost felt pointless to argue with an angel of death.

“You don’t gain a damn thing,” Cloud said.

Sephiroth regarded him. Then, his eyes closed before he did the damnedest thing and let out a low chuckle. Strike one. His voice was mocking. “Have we forgotten already? It was never about gain, puppet. The humans simply bore a mark against Mother and I…and now…”

Cloud did not need to follow Sephiroth’s eyes to know his gaze had once again been pulled back towards the empty tank. They flicked so quickly if he wasn’t hyperfocused on every little movement it would have been missed; however, it was in that where he remembered the rift in the monster’s armor. There was one last gambit he could play. It was a dangerous one. It was a card that could easily be overcome if Sephiroth read it for all it was worth, but it was the last move he had left. Outside of throwing himself at the monster until he died or the reactor came down on them both.

“The village doesn’t know a damn thing about Jenova,” Cloud said, resolute. He remained stalwart even when Sephiroth’s eyes locked back onto him. “All they know is this place gives the village power, and that makes them better than the wandering folk. Don’t know anything about R&D. Or experiments—“

“Get to the point, puppet.”

“All I’m saying is that Jenova’s gone, and you wanna find your mother, right?” Cloud knew this was stupid. It was the worst idea he’d had since he tried to force the Turks to get the kids back from the Forgotten Capital. But with Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed, he had to keep his mouth moving. “Burning the village down won’t help you find her, but I know what will.”

The monster ran his eyes over him—that stoney glare playing off how they glint from the sparks of Flare and the glow of mako made Cloud uneasy—then the deranged mirth drained from his face. Suspicion replaced it. Cloud swore he could taste ashes in his mouth. “You? Help me find Mother? In what world would you tell me the truth, puppet?”

“In the one where my village doesn’t burn down.”

There was a twinge of pain, then static covered his vision as Sephiroth’s pupils dilated and all Cloud could see were those scathing eyes. He could not flinch. He did not flinch as claws probed at his mind and every part of his intent was scrutinized. The sickening feeling of having his mind’s boundary crossed, of knowing his body was not fully his, was not something Cloud had missed in the years of peace he had; unfortunately, he had to stand still and allow Sephiroth to tear down that wall. He kept his thoughts free of everything except for what Sephiroth needed to know.

Good Cloud, very good, Sephiroth’s voice taunted. The pressure on his mind finally relented as he finally drew his hand away. “Say I believe you, where would I look?”

It was hard to believe Sephiroth wouldn’t know, but Cloud elected to play along. “Shinra Manor.” Cloud’s statement was simple; he ignored the slight tremble in his own voice. “There’s a terminal that’s connected to Shinra’s database. One of Hojo’s personal, so it has a hell of a lot more info than the one in town. If Jenova was moved, Shinra would know and it would be logged there. We used it to track down info on the Temple back in the day, and that was top secret intel too.”

“Hmmm, yes…I do seem to remember something of that sort…” Sephiroth said, almost vacantly.

“So you can trust me.”

Sephiroth gave him a sour look. It turned calculating just as quick. He mused over Cloud’s battered form until he looked down at the two swords in his hands. Extending a hand, his face did not beguile Cloud in anything he was about to say as being a joke or able to be contested. “Quite frankly, I do not one bit. Give me that sword.”

“What?!” Cloud gaped.

“I will not leave you armed, Strife. I know better than to turn my back on you, and, if you want your village to stay in-tact, I would hand over that sword.”

“I—“

All his protests, and the last vestiges of his defiance died at Sephiroth’s raised eyebrow. He was dead serious. Cloud gawked at the offending hand. His fingers tightened around the hilts of his swords, loathe to let them go and lose any hope he had at killing Sephiroth should his plans go awry. But wasn’t that exactly why Sephiroth wanted to disarm him? They both knew how this blood-soaked game of cat and mouse worked. Cloud thought of his ma and Tifa sleeping soundly in their beds, and that’s when he let the demon click the last lock in place around the chains on his mouth. Reluctant and hesitant, Cloud affixed the Hollow Blade back to the Fusion Sword’s core and held the sword blade-down out to Sephiroth’s waiting hand. He took hold of it. Eyes flashing with curiosity the moment he touched it—and there went Cloud’s hackles rising with the motion—before the blade vanished in the same smoke which had consumed the Masamune.

Sephiroth caught his wrist before Cloud fully pulled away. Sharply inhaling, he almost lurched and smacked the monster’s hands away before the same severe gaze locked him in place. Both of his hands covered Cloud’s bracer—one of Cetran make, crafted from shining, etched mythril in the pattern of dragon scales and glowing mako crystals—and removed it from his wrist. He watched Sephiroth’s deliberate movements as the bracer disappeared into his coat. Now, completely helpless, Cloud stood stock still as Sephiroth finally turned his back once more. His adversary did not smile.

“Come, puppet,” Sephiroth demanded. Then his strides kept moving with purpose away from the reactor’s broken core.

He did begin to follow Sephiroth. That’s when a small glint of silver metal caught his eye, and he realized one of his daggers was still lying next to the broken door panel. Without raising suspicion he grabbed it and hid it away in a pocket. Do not dawdle, would you? Sephiroth’s voice hissed in his head.

With a start, Cloud curled and uncurled his fists and began to follow before Sephiroth noticed why he lagged behind. Perhaps his plan would work and there would be enough information on what could have happened to Jenova to sate Sephiorth. Predictably, that possibility did not make him feel any better.

Chapter Text

Blizzard winds and snow pelted the side of the mountain as Cloud followed Sephiroth out into the cold. Lightning arched in the sky within the billowing gloom. He could feel the constant bedlam of Sephiroth’s rage-filled thoughts pressing on his mind, and he held little interest in poking at the bond any further to receive the full brunt of it. The monster’s left hand twitched. It curled and uncurled like he was thinking of summoning Masamune and turning the reactor to ribbons. Or making good on his threats and burning Cloud alive. Cloud’s own rage had been masked by fear. His eyes darted to where he knew Nibelheim sat at the bottom of the mountain. The gales whipped Sephiroth’s hair and coat into a tangle of silver and black. He almost faded into the storm. But the bond pulled and entangled Cloud to where he couldn’t lose Sephiroth even if he tried.

The mako in his blood pooled in his face and hands in attempt to warm him. He still shivered then stumbled as they rounded the backside of the reactor to the bridge. There was a weight pressing on his mind. It bade him to follow and not slow his captor down. Cloud curled his arms around his body. His own waist sash beat against his legs when they left the safe habor of the walls above the ravine. Creaking, shaking from the brunt of the blizzard, snow danced on the rocking bridge. Sephiroth strode across it with all the grace on a furious cat on a mission while Cloud struggled to keep his feet steady. His body ached. Grime covered his skin from the blood that had dried on his arm or soaked into his shirt, and the wound festered from the cold as the mako failed to abate both problems at once. He needed warmth. I probably won’t die for trying, he reasoned.

“Hey!” Cloud called out. Sephiroth refused to stop, and only pressure increasing in Cloud’s mind told him he was paying attention to his irritation. “Sephiroth! This would be easier if I had Elemental and Fire!”

Sudden, sharp pain in his skull was enough to know that wasn’t going to happen. Clutching his head, Cloud grit his teeth and kept his feet under him through the new gale and even more frigid glare Sephiroth sent his way before he promptly continued their trek.

Keep up, Cloud, Sephiroth taunted. Or I cut the ropes on the other side.

Trudging forward, he followed the demon’s blurry form until the pain finally relented. He gripped the old fraying rope of the bridge; listening to it creak under their weight and the piled snow. It being only the two of them probably meant it would hold. However, he did wonder if Sephiroth would be able to save himself he dropped them into Gunnthrá’s claim. Perhaps Ódinn would free him and drag Sephiroth in chains all the way to Ginnugagap. Hel was too good for him. But he would love for her to allow Garmr to feast on his soul—

“Your musings on your old gods are new…and quaint,” Sephiroth said. He had paused and waited for Cloud to get back onto solid ground; his face twisted into a wicked smile. It was the stupid grin Cloud was used to.

“Stay out of my head!” he growled.

“Why should I? Your thoughts are mine by right, and they are humorous given the circumstances. I still have my wing, puppet. It would take your god appearing to sever it from my body to drop me into that river. I would never let myself hit the ground.”

His piece having been said, Sephiroth strolled over the helipad leaving Cloud to stew behind him. The bastard was far too smug for how he seemed to undermine Cloud at every turn. Whether it be as simple as denying him warmth from the cold or his own mind’s autonomy. But…wasn’t this the hell he signed up for when he gave up his weapons? If it meant the minuscule chance of keeping Tifa and his ma safe, then he could take a bit of pompous cruelty.

Looking around the heliport, Cloud tried to keep his distance from the menace ahead of him and look for any changes. The bodies of the makonoids were still lying silent; now they were covered by a thickening layer of snow. Their glowing purple blood shown as drying embers with a heat which burned the frost to steam. Something was amiss. Cloud couldn’t place his finger upon it. Through the howling wind and low light, there was a change he felt he should have noticed. He glanced at the shed, then the railing around the port. It was his enhanced vision that allowed him see either of them at all, and it was only once passing by did it finally click into place. None of the lights were on. Before, when fighting the dragon, floodlights illuminated the helipad and they blinked to make the reactor visible through the haze. However, now the whole mountain had been cast into utter darkness. Trying to listen past the wind, Cloud found silence where there should have been the whirring of generator gears and fans.

Turning around only confirmed his suspicions. There was no steam rising from the reactor’s towers. Power to the whole mountain down to the village was probably out. He cringed knowing it was entirely their fault, but there wasn’t anything for it now.

“Hey!” Cloud called.

Sephiroth did not stop at his call. That was predictable, yet it didn’t stop Cloud from gritting his teeth before he ran forward to grab onto his arm. The demon turned to glare at him. “What are you doing, puppet—“

“Look around us, Sephiroth.” Cloud gestured at the silent generators then pointed back at the reactor. “No steam, no power. That elevator isn’t working.”

“The one in the reactor worked.”

“Prob’ly on a back-up. But that—“ Cloud nodded at the elevator down the way— “light is completely out. We’re not getting down the mountain that way.”

Sephiroth seemed to mull it over. Irritation and anger bared down on his mind; there were no outward signs of how he felt about their predicament but Cloud knew regardless. Then, he regarded Cloud with a serpentine smile. “Then what do you suggest, puppet? Getting down to the manor is imperative for us both. I can fly down through the blizzard, but you….” He laughed to himself; Cloud shivered. “Perhaps I should throw you down into the river? You survived before.”

“Yeah…no thanks.” Cloud cringed thinking how frigid the water would be. The river would be deep and nearly frozen by this time of winter. If the impact didn’t kill him, the shock from suddenly being encased certainly would mako or not. If possible, Sephiroth’s smile only widened. He ignored it and continued. “There’s a service elevator that goes down through Mako Distribution, it should be running off of power storage…I think. Then we can head through Gnipahellir and down to Gunnthrá Pass. Will take a few more hours.”

There was a beat, then another, and finally Sephiroth relented and turn back the way they came. Crossing the bridge a third time was not any easier. But Sephiroth seemed to linger on the other side and only turned away once Cloud was on solid ground once more. He did that before… Cloud wondered, narrowing his eyes. He wouldn’t think that Sephiroth was ensuring he didn’t go over the edge; more likely deciding if he wanted to watch Cloud plummet or not.

They didn’t speak again as they rounded the reactor and made their way down to the path to the service elevator. Trepidation filled Cloud with every step. Bringing Sephiroth down the mountain felt akin to a death warrant no matter what he was trying to accomplish, and this hike would be hours spent in the demon’s company. Suddenly, he felt lucky that every time before had been so brief. Amusement prickled quietly over from Sephiroth’s mind, but Cloud did not wish to ask what he found so humorous. Unfortunately, the monster never did abide by what he wanted. That quickly became obvious while Cloud was checking the control panel and he heard a small chuckle.

“I do remember coming up this way after we fell into the river. We had to kill that Keeper in the caves…” the demon rambled. Cloud could feel the way his lips curled into a smirk as he watched his back. “Or, well, Zackary and I did. You hid away with the little cowgirl. I suspect you’d be just as useless now if we were to come upon it.”

His hands hovered over the line he needed to reconnect to call the elevator back up. Working his jaw, Cloud took a deep breath and continued with his work. He didn’t need to rise to every little bait. Sephiroth was annoying—and dangerous—but he only needed to bide his time. “We could test that by you giving me back my materia and swords.”

“You have a death wish,” Sephiroth stated.

Pursing his lips, Cloud shrugged his shoulders. “Or, you could make yourself useful and come give this a little power.”

“Why?”

Cloud threw his head towards the turned off service light. Using a little of his own magic, even without any materia, he could feel the current of electricity where it ran to its source. The generator was working, but these wires were all but shot. How in Gaia’s name did we get this working back then? “We need to coax the back-up generator to divert power here.”

If Sephiroth was incensed by being ordered around he didn’t show it aside from a tiny irritated huff. That was a strange sound to hear from him. But it was stranger still when he complied and knelt down next to Cloud with his hand outstretched to deliver a quick shock to the wires between Cloud’s fingers. It was a swift interaction. No more than a few seconds, yet feeling Sephiroth so close his leather armor brushed against Cloud’s skin was enough to make him shiver from fear. Such a small touch reminded him this was real. His nightmares nor the Lifestream could be detailed enough to simulate strands of too-long hair brushing his pauldron or the heat from Sephiroth’s overly enhanced body one could feel only when you drew too close.

One small jolt to the wires and the sensations were gone. Sephiroth drew away as quick as he knelt and went back to stewing a pace or two behind him. That was odd too. Whether from a hallucination or the man himself, the monster always seemed to hover far too close for comfort. Always a cloying presence behind his back or speaking right into his ear as-if seeing Cloud panic at the proximity was the only thing that gave Sephiroth joy. Now, he was keeping his distance. Staying out of arm’s reach—despite how he’d disarmed him. It was odd.

Roughly grabbing the control switch, Sephiroth called the elevator. He glared down where Cloud was still crouched. “Your thoughts are annoying, puppet. Should I remove your ability to have them?”

Startled, Cloud jumped up and away from him. Defensive he glowered back at Sephiroth in turn. “They wouldn’t be if you stayed the hell out of my head,” he hissed. Needling reminders of how little control he had were a sore spot for Cloud. Not that the demon was unaware of that.

“What I do or don’t do is none of your concern,” Sephiroth continued. “You haven’t the slightest idea of how I act, but, if you’re so desperate to have me near you, I could make you lap at my feet like a dog. Consider any control you have over your mind and body to be gifts. Ones I could easily yank away should I so choose.”

It was his voice, so matter-of-fact, that convinced Cloud. They both were playing off of equal information—that much Cloud had to believe given Sephiroth’s reaction to Jenova’s empty tank—but that did not mean this was an equal battle ground. Sephiroth had taken the hill position the moment Hojo forced S-cells into Cloud’s body. Years without needing to use his mental defenses made them akin to a rust covered tool; utterly useless unless he could remove the rot from every part of the surface. That bond strung between them. He could feel it even when the ropes were placid—a disgusting feeling he would never get used to. Face curling into a offended grimace, Cloud turned away and kept his gaze firmly on the elevator shaft. Two could play at this game.

Old rusted, probably halfway frozen, chains did their best to pull up the platform with screeching persistence. Snow continued to fall in thick sheets. He wished the night was clear. Maybe seeing the stars or the Lifestream alight in the sky would guide him in the right direction. Give him any hope on what to do. His fingers curled against his leather waist-sash—feeling flat metal which rested in a holster against his leg and the only grounding point he had. Nonchalant, he pulled his cloak further against his body like he was trying to stave off the wind. Schooling his face into a frown and pulling his mind away from it before Sephiroth’s will strung against the bond.

Glancing at his nightmare, he watched how his leather coat caught the wind. Other than his hair and the flaps of his coat Sephiroth did not seem at all affected by the frigid air—his exposed skin was pale and pallid but that was normal for the man. Did he even get cold? It was an idle thought, but enough to keep Cloud sane.

Their ride arrived with a few more cries from the metal and a harsh snap of the basket stopping. Cloud kept his distance and his heavy cape close to his body as they crowded onto the platform; knowing Sephiroth would never see the outline of his dagger through both articles of clothing guarding it from view. As they began to move, he kept his mind on the small things. Unimportant things. How the mother mountains of this time may look when dawn began to break. Calculations of how long the blizzard would remain at full strength. If the chains would snap under their combined weights with how strained the poor things sounded. Each time he felt a press on his mind it was with less and less interest. Cloud waited for Sephiroth to comment on how ‘boring’ he was compared to the demon’s own ‘godly’ and self-important goals, but the jab never materialized. The moment the pressing force was gone Cloud collected his thoughts and flaked off the first bit of rust.

For his part, Sephiroth remained quiet. He wasn’t paying Cloud any mind either, so that meant he could breath a little easier knowing he wasn’t the center of attention. His heart hammered in his chest from being so close to Sephiroth. It killed him that he didn’t know what the man was thinking. Knowing any of Sephiroth’s thoughts would help Cloud keep his feet under him as he treaded carefully through this minefield. But that would mean knowing what the megalomaniac was thinking—for good or ill. Along with getting skewered when poking at the bond like that inevitably went wrong. So instead, Cloud shifted away from him and closed his eyes.

Why isn’t Jenova in her tank? He wondered. Where could she be? Nothing changed before this, so why?

Sudden shaking under his feet and the sound of the rusty elevator slotting into place shook Cloud from his thoughts. Trying to quell the unease in his gut he allowed Sephiroth to exit first. He ran a hand down his face. Through his hair. Watching pale hair disappear into the shadow of a large facade. He hated how real Sephiroth was. How he reacted to light and shadow the way a real man and not a ghost would.

I’ll find her. I have to find her.

Only once the gate of the elevator ratcheted shut behind him, was there a prickling in his skull. Cloud ground his teeth. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and started lumbering towards him even before Sephiroth said anything. Come open this door, puppet, Sephiroth demanded.

“You don’t need to do that! I have ears and unfortunately your vocal chords still work!” Cloud called. He ignored how the poking turned to claws in his brain. “Why don’t you open the door, genius?”

Sephiroth was standing next to glowering terminal. Red light from a huge ‘Access Denied’ screen cast him in an eerie red glow which made it look like he was doused in blood. Fitting. It also made his glare all the worse when he crossed his arms in frustration. “Do as I say. This was your asinine plan. Make it work.”

Rolling his eyes, Cloud went about disengaging the electronic lock. His memory on the passwords required for this door were frustratingly clear just as they’d been back when Avalanche had come this way in search of the key card. The locks on this door were more complicated than the others on the reactor path—requiring multiple passed clearance checks. Yet, his fingers clicked away on their own before his conscious memory could catch up with them. It was clear now he shouldn’t know these passwords, but he did. Just like he knew other things he shouldn’t. At his side Sephiroth hovered frustratingly silent. His eyes cut holes into the computer, Cloud, and the door blocking their progress; a quick side glance was enough to see how his brows were furrowed and his mouth set into a thin line.

Cloud elected to ignore him. It wasn’t his problem to worry about if Sephiroth had issues with a simple little passcode chain. That was almost humorous. So Sephiroth could be stopped in his tracks by locking him in a room and telling him to figure out the password to get out? Maybe once they got to Shinra Manor he could borrow Vincent’s controller. They could figure out if Sephiroth can starve to death. Perhaps he could figure out on his own there was only one way out of the library; and that cutting open those reinforced doors with Masamune wasn’t it. Or Vincent and him could knock Sephiroth out then shove him in one of those mako tanks and—

A pop-up flashing on screen knocked Cloud out of his spiraling thoughts. Wetting his dry, chapped lips he shoved down each increasingly violent fantasy and grimaced both at how slimey and wanton they felt. Desire to break Sephiroth wasn’t anything Cloud wasn’t familiar with. Every time he’d snuffed out the demon’s life it had never been clean; he’d drawn each killing blow out on purpose to hear every bone snap. However, dreams of long and drawn out torture only cropped up in the low of an ‘episode’—or so him and the others called them. But if anyone deserved it… Cloud read the message on the screen then glanced over at Sephiroth. He extended his hand; “Keycard.”

Sephiroth started; as-if he’d been knocked from his own thoughts. That brief, confused little expression was odd. “Pardon?”

“If you’re squatting in your old body, you have a keycard on you, yeah? We need one with Type-A security clearance, and I assume the ‘General’ would have something like that.”

Even while glaring at Cloud, Sephiroth patted down his coat and fished around in his pockets. If Cloud listened close enough he swore he heard grumbles about Shinra’s protocols and security headassery, but, as amusing as it might be to listen to Sephiroth grouch about inconveniences, he wasn’t about to give reason for that ire to be turned on him. When he finally pulled the card from a compact wallet the strangest expression of bewilderment passed Sephiroth’s face before he handed it over. It was happening more and more. Looks on Sephiroth that were just…wrong. Any bit of cooperation was also wrong. Cloud took the key while not giving up his disquiet.

The doors to Mako Distribution clicked open; Sephiroth’s face and information flashed on screen and distantly Cloud was aware that meant their movement was flagged in Shinra’s systems. Not that he’d bring that up, or it mattered much. He quietly passed the card back, shoved his hands into his pockets, and meandered into large warehouse while his captor fiddled with the cards in his wallet.

Gargantuan pipes snaked around the cavern; twisting around themselves like tentacles of some great beast trying to claw itself out of the cavern roof. No mako ran through the majority of the pipes here. Whatever capacity purpose they were intended to serve ended decades ago when Nibel’s reactor was quickly rendered obsolete. Other than for alien monster incubation, I guess… Cloud grimaced. Bending to the side in front of the pipe maw, he wondered at how they’d get back up. Sliding down them had been fun; however, his group had never needed to crawl back up. His eyes scanned the shadows. He needed to squint to see the path these pipes took, how they connected together, and which would keep him away from where monsters gathered. He’d rather not figure out if Sephiroth would make him fight fiends defenseless.

“Give me a minute to remember the way up!” Cloud called.

No response. It took a lot to resist the urge to look back. But, he didn’t hear Sephiroth moving away from the door, so he was probably lingering there. He shrugged and returned to puzzling out the twists and turns. Suddenly, a strong hand yanked on his shirt collar. Cloud yelped. Thrashing around to try and grab Sephiroth’s arm right as his feet left the ground. “What the fuck?!” Cloud yelled.

Stiffening, he heard that black wing beat against the air as the distribution center shrunk then began to pass by below him. Sephiroth said nothing while Cloud’s eyes darted about. His heart hammered wildly in his chest; waiting for the moment he was suddenly released and left to plummet five stories, and how to land or catch himself on a pipe to not break something important. He was being held as easily as one would an unruly kitten. Carried through the air like he weighed nothing. Then, Sephiroth reeled him back and unceremoniously threw Cloud onto hard, sharp stones.

Tiny pebbles scrapped and scratched into his bare shoulder as he skidded across the rock shelf until he finally rolled harsh onto a flat sheet metal. Rust and old iron flooded his nose. Cloud laid still; groaning while rolling over to his unbruised side. By the sound of metal clanking, Sephiroth landed close to his head then moved around him without a care. He opened his eyes enough to catch sight of two black feathers landing close to his face. Soft tips brushed against his cheek forcing his nose to bunch up in disgust. Moonlight filtered in from a crack in the rock letting him see the wing; it cast a bright light over those dark, void-like feathers, and the wing seemed to twitch as it was pulled away from Cloud’s face and back into Sephiroth’s body.

“There,” Sephiroth said. “I fixed our problem. Get up, would you?”

Coughing out the pain in his chest, Cloud pulled his hands under him to try and push himself up. All those tiny cuts and bruises still ached. Between the brawl and the cold, the mako and cells in his body were thoroughly worn out. “Did you have to do that?” Cloud asked. Oh who am I kidding? Of course—

“I did.” Sephiroth regarded him coldly; however, there was a delighted smirk finally on his features. “You were taking too long, and watching you squirm in my grasp is amusing.”

Cloud grumbled while pulling himself up. His foe kept his distance—likely saving them both from Cloud taking an ill-fated swing—and watched with an unimpressed, yet amused, look. Sephiroth’s smirked grew wider. “Oh don’t look so glum. I saved us from crawling up those pipes. You could be grateful, puppet.”

“I would rather die than say ‘thank you’ or grovel at your feet like I know you’ll suggest,” Cloud spat.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really.” Cloud dusted himself off. Small shards of rocks tumbled from his knit shirt and he could finally feel the bruised aching starting to subside. “You expect me to be any different?”

If possible, Sephiroth seemed to actually consider the question. A certain look of puzzlement slid over his face while those mako-sickened eyes pondered him. It left Cloud feeling scrutinized. “No. I guess not. You’d hardly be yourself if I could make you supplicate for long.”

With his piece said and this weird, weird interaction over, Sephiroth turned and swept himself down the path which led out of Mako Distribution. Cloud paused before deciding to follow. Why had there been no threat beyond that? The monster had done little more than scare him. Trying to follow what was going on became harder and harder every time Sephiroth seemed to break script. After strumming the bond, there wasn’t anything in there either—no strong emotions floating over where Cloud could discern them. This link was not two ways; however…

Why can’t I read him? What is he hiding from me? This wasn’t so hard before…

Looking back at the pipes and fence, he slowly began to follow. Sephiroth was already well up ahead by the time Cloud climbed the stairs out of Mako Distribution and back onto the treacherous maintenance path. It wasn’t long before he took the lead via silent stubbornness. After the third time Sephiroth turned down a path which had been cut away by mako fluctuations or collapsed from Shinra’s negligence was when he’d had enough. He’d grown up on these paths. He knew this mountain better than anyone—save Tifa of course—and he knew how to navigate these systems. Silently pulling at his magic, Cloud felt out the pulse beneath his feet. From the tips of Gaia’s claws, down the veins, into where her heart beat and how the blood flowed.

“Follow me,” Cloud said; nodding his head to a different way which rounded the cliff’s edge. “Path up is full of mako gas. Stuff would have even your head spinning in a few minutes.”

Sephiroth rolled his eyes, but he did turn-foot and start to follow. Crystals began to jut from the ground. Roots from dead or barely alive trees snaked around the ceiling and walls as the sprouts grew where ever they could find purchase. Mako gas sparkled like tiny fallen stars as they made their way deeper. Fiends came upon them once or twice. Nibel wolves, drakes, or a few of Hojo’s abominations. Cloud sensed their attention and presence before he ever saw them, and without his weapons he was left standing back close to Sephiroth. Those monsters were wary. Aware of a predator worse than they ever could be.

A pack of Twin Brains were the only ones who dared to draw close. Their disgusting scuttling and groans made from warped human voice caught Cloud’s attention, and he turned back only to see four of them reeling to let out a paralyzing scream. Before he could think of what to do without any weapon, a slash split the air and all four monsters were tore open at their mouth. Ttheir screams died as pitiful whimpers. His heart hammered in his chest. Looking over at Sephiroth he saw the man’s face twisted into annoyance and Masamune rapidly disappearing into a figment of purple smoke. The mountain trembled. It pulled away from Sephiroth and that aura with the rage of a cornered animal. Mako swirled around him in a thick smog—either holding Cloud close and away like a mother would her child or whispering faint pleas for protection.

For a brief moment, Sephiroth’s hand clutched his head and a pained expression pulled at his face; yet, it passed before Cloud could confirm it ever happened. “What are you doing? I’m not going to ask again, puppet.”

There was nothing he could do except shake the mako away and continue on the path. “I told you it’s nothing. Trying not to be useless cause someone won’t give me back my weapons.”

“You underestimate my tolerance.” Sephiroth griped.

Continuing down the path, Cloud kept having to coax Sephiroth down ways which conflicted with both of their memories. More packs of monsters came and went. Some would watch with wary eyes. Some tried to attack but fled once Sephiroth cut the packs down a few bodies.

While cleaning Masamune of Screamer blood, he looked around at the crystallized cavern. “How did Shinra even build anything on this confounding mountain? None of these paths make any sense. The Lifestream’s expanse is ever shifting, but this place is still in a physical realm I would presume?”

Cloud shrugged. “Beats me. Why’d you think you and Zack needed a guide back then? Paths change all the time based on how the mountain is growing or what the mako’s doing.”

When Sephiroth next looked at him, Cloud was taken aback by the legitimate interest he saw in the man’s eyes. He could feel the bond strum, but his access to his magic wasn’t dampened or leeched away like his quick worry suggested. “So how are you able to navigate them?”

“You keep asking that.”

“You keep avoiding answering.”

Cloud waved him off. They started down the path anew. From a rift in the crystal growth, he finally saw stars beginning to peek through the haze. The blizzard’s gotta be over , he thought; breathing a sigh of relief.

At least he wasn’t gonna be freezing more than a normal Nibel night once they left the heat of the mako. Diverting them from a more obvious path, Cloud pointed out a small ledge and told Sephiroth they’d need to go that way. Brilliant green pools bubbled and broiled down the other path—Cloud could hear the whispers and rapid pulse; it could erupt at any moment and cause the whole system to collapse into the Lifestream. This cave would make them scale the mountain wall, but they wouldn’t be flirting with death. Cloud sighed. Maybe I should make us go down that way.

“I do want to know,” Sephiroth demanded while adjusting his grip. “You have ignored me long enough. I was attempting to be patient with you. Speak, puppet.”

His metaphorical leash was pulled taut. Cloud scrambled to collect himself before the words spilled out beyond his control. “I grew up here! I know these paths, and any Nibelfolk worth their salt can read Fjórgýnn’s heartbeat. Not sure if the svikara down there still got it, but I haven’t forgot and that’s all I want to tell you. It’s nothing special, gods…”

He could only breath again once the collar stopped squeezing off his wind pipe. Sephiroth’s retreat from the bond was as quick as his descent upon him; though he was not fully letting go of the reigns based on the feeling pitted in Cloud’s stomach. If he didn’t find where he left those mental shields this was going to drive him to insanity…again.

Returning to silence, putting distance between them, eased him back into focus on the mountain. Finding fresh air did confirm the storm which had raged hours ago subsided at some point during their stint inside. Strong waves crashed against sheer cliffs. A green glow roiled beneath the surface of the ocean. Moonlight finally peaked through the remnant clouds from the blizzard; bright spots scattered over the glowing waves caused the mountain to take on an appearance as-if they were within the Lifestream itself. Once Cloud’s feet were firmly on a solid rock shelf he took a moment to take in the sight. It had been years since he’d been back to Nibel. Even longer since he’d hiked up this way.

I must really be getting old… Cloud’s smile held a bit of sardonic weight to it. Feeling all nostalgic about this mountain…

When he turned back, Cloud found Sephiroth gazing out of the sea—his face scrunched up into a pensive look. With those long silver bangs in his face he was difficult to read. But something nagged at Cloud. A small memory of standing next to Sephiroth while Zack commented on how if you really looked hard enough you could see the outer most islands of Wutai; stories about how he’d been up and down the country but still hadn’t seen the vast majority of it like Sephiroth had. The general chuckled, then. Mentioning quietly about an ‘Igara’ island back in the day and how he ended up with Masamune in the first place…but that one could also not see it from Nibel.

However, the spell broke when this Sephiroth caught him looking. Cloud had to balk at his face. How gaunt and sunken his eyes were; their harsh edges and the bags which seemed chiseled into him; and his pallid skin more sickened than the snow. There wasn’t even a shadow of the person from his memories. Not the manufactured product Shinra placed on posters and TV commercials; nor, the quiet and melancholic man he’d traveled up this mountain with. Only a contemptuous monster remained. His eyes narrowed as he gazed at Cloud. Like a hawk sizing up a lame rabbit limping through the underbrush. Once again there was that nagging wish to hear what he was thinking about. A desire to find a way to twist the bond until Sephiroth let him in. This time it would be to figure out why he was glowering bloody murder.

Swallowing rough, Cloud turned away. He gestured at the thin wooden planks crossing over a ravine where rapids spilled out from within the mountain. “After we cross over that we just need to go through Gnipahellir. Then we’ll go out to the Gunnthrá River and back through the forest,” Cloud said. There was no response from Sephiroth. Running a thumb over his palm, Cloud took a deep breath. “I need to make a slight detour before we had down into the cave. I tied up a chocobo and need to let her go.”

Sephiroth stopped right as he brushed past Cloud to take the first step over the ravine. “And why should we care about one bird?”

“Because we don’t need to keep her tied up for no reason.”

“Let me rephrase, why should you care about one bird? Don’t you remember that little town of yours? It would be an awful idea to delay me into impatience, Cloud.”

Cloud lifted his chin in defiance. “Well, I do care. I’m taking a sec to free the bird. Anything in the mansion ain’t gonna grow legs and walk out if I take three seconds to untie her. Look, I know you’re doing this to humor me. Hang my ma and Tifa over my head, watch me squirm, all-the-while you could fly down there and do whatever you want. You’ve made that pretty damn clear. So does it aggrieve you that much if I free the chocobo I brought with me and lead her back to town?”

Stalking away from the wall, coming upon him like a wolf about to tear into a deer, Sephiroth glowered at him while Cloud tried to ignore the heavy pressure on his shoulders and knees that screamed at him to collapse to the ground. He stood tall as Sephiroth towered over him. Glaring with malice, interest, and all of those confusing little fragments he’d never seen in the monster’s eyes. His mouth felt dry once the demon finally responded.

“My patience is a thin and brittle thing, Cloud. Finding Mother’s whereabouts is the one promise that will save you and all those little human lives you care so much about.” Backing off a bit, Sephiroth looked him over. “But your defiance is amusing, and expected. It does not aggrieve me enough to put you in your place—get your bird.”

With that Sephiroth relented. Not humoring it like he did before he made quick work of the reavine—his wing unfurling then disappeared in a flash of feathers the moment he was on the other side. He continued on alone while Cloud caught his breath. It was good sign he didn’t crumble immediately at the slightest pressure on the bond; he wasn’t as useless as he otherwise could be. Carefully distributing his weight, Cloud made quick work of the rickety boards masquerading as a bridge. Rapids spilled out with a call of instant death far below him, yet they were less terrifying than the unpredictable death-bell which came from following Sephiroth around.

Don’t let him get bored. Don’t entertain him too much. Humor him by playing his games. Defy him enough to make it interesting. Cloud ran the calculus in his head over and over about how much he could push and pull with the crazed god. Their hours long trek had mostly been made in silence. Yet, every time he chose to open his mouth it felt like trying to diffuse a bomb.  Ódinn don’t let me endure this for too long. Just give me a chance. One chance to let Hel drag him down and keep him.

He allowed Sephiroth to continue without him after assuring it was a straight shot to the annex of Gnipahellir. Going his own path—whilst following the pulse of the bird he could feel mixed in with that of the mountain—Cloud found the blue chocobo still tied up where he’d left her and pecking at the low amount of hay which remained in her feeding bag. Cloud patted her soft feathers. She cooed; brushing her neck against his hands and using her beak to lightly ruffle is hair.

“You won’t believe what happened to me girl…” Cloud whispered. “I don’t know how things could get much worse…”

Scratching at her feathers, Cloud tried to focus on the soft feeling under his gloves and how grounding those ministrations were. He could feel the leather on his palms. The cold winter air gripping his skin. The weight of the wool cloak pulling down his shoulders. The heat of the chocobo as she shared her warmth. Then, the new level of exhaustion seeping into his very being he wanted to ignore. His face fell to a grimace. It felt childish when he pressed his head into the bird’s soft side; closing his eyes the moment he noticed how they stung.

“I don’t know if I can do this. It’d been four years without a whisper from the bastard. Gods. Why do I gotta do this without them?”

Barret nor Cid wouldn’t have went down without a fight. Vincent would’ve found a way to put a bullet through Sephiroth or escape into the shadows to re-group. Yuffie’d be pissed Cloud was following the demon around like some kind of lackey. Nanaki or Reeve might’ve been the only ones who would’ve told him to be careful and keep his head down. Well, Nanaki would have bitten him. Tifa would have kept fighting util she couldn’t, or stood by him with that quiet strength til they could find way to put Sephiroth to route. But…none of them were here. Cloud was alone for the first time since Advent Day.

The chocobo ‘kwehed’ softly at him. As-if she could really understand his worries and was trying to assure him he’ll be okay. Ridiculous. He hadn’t been fine since waking up in Gongaga. He was kidding himself even pretending he was in control. However…gods above what else could he do? That was his main conundrum ever since giving up his weapons. Sephiroth had been silent. Exceptionally quiet and acting unlike the man Cloud was intimately familiar with; unfortunately, that made it even harder to predict what was going through the monster’s head! Were any of those threats things he’d make good on?

“Of course he would…” Cloud concluded. “This is fucking Sephiroth we’re talking about. Just gotta be ready for the worst.”

Cloud wiped his eyes once he pulled away. The bird kept preening his hair. Cooing like she would for any distressed chick in a herd, and it would’ve been cute if he wasn’t trying to stay so resolute. Bending down, he pulled out the metal pipe, threw it away, and picked up the reigns for the chocobo to follow. Snow crunched under talon and boot as they made their way back to Sephiroth. He could sense irritation in the bond. It seems he was waiting at the annex for Cloud to return. Working his jaw, he tried to ignore how those cells being active made him feel. What strung him to the monster felt far different to pulse of Mt. Nibel which ran parallel to his attention—Fjórgýnn’s heartbeat rang clear as a song bird’s call while the pull of Jenova’s cells was like a dog gnawing on his unprotected arm without having the mercy to rip it off. It made his skin crawl.

Once Cloud returned with the chocobo, Sephiroth pushed away from the wall to appraise his work with a sharp rise to his eyebrows. Clearly he still didn’t think freeing the bird was all that important. It was hard to resist flipping him off as he walked past. But, Cloud decided he enjoyed having all his fingers. They continued their hike in silence. The bird’s presence and soft chirping blunted some of the tumult in Cloud’s stomach and allowed his roiling thoughts to ease. Sephiroth overtook him once they came across the gems and glittering mako gas that marked the shrines.

Gnipahellir was as beautiful as Cloud remembered it. Sweet and earthy scents of old honey, pine needles, and oak filled the dark cavern as the haze of pure mako began to swirl in embers and whispers around them. It smelled of the forest. A memory of the valleys as they once were when wildflowers and trees covered the now barren ground. If he strained his ears, the soft hum of the mako almost sounded like honey-laced laughter, or the wailing of sorrow, or the dance of animals in the underbrush. Here, the lifestream flowed mere yards beneath his feet. It pulsed like the beating heart of a living thing. It pooled as puddles upon the ground where white-blue crystals thrummed with memories of old life, until they they joined as one with the consciousness of the mountain. Even without being a Cetra, he could feel it. He knew the voices as-if they were those of old friends.

Cloud kept himself from falling too deep into it as he had in the shrines higher up. He watched Sephiroth move through the mako mist. How the light of the materia rippling through the stone and floating green embers reflected and caught on his hair and pauldrons. The man looked ephemeral. Like Cloud could pretend for a moment this was nothing more than a hallucination or spirit given shape by the Lifestream. A delusion shattered when Sephiroth turned to him with a wry look.

“No wonder the people of Nibel believe this place to be the realm of the dead,” Sephiroth said. Cloud’s hand tightened on the reigns. His heart hammered in his chest from fear or rage or grief that couldn’t have been his own. That sounded like the man he came up this mountain with—not the calamity which left it. His green eyes glittered like the mako when he spoke again. “Isn’t that correct? I think I remember reading about your people—there was quite a lot about them in the library.”

Am I looking at a ghost? Aren’t you dead? Cloud breathed in; the scent of honey mead and trees that hadn’t existed in this part of Nibel since the reactor filled his senses. Laughter and quiet conversations from a hearth-hall echoed somewhere in the distance.

“You’re not wrong…” Cloud said, carefully. “Lots of places can be gates to Hel, or so my Ma said before. Barrows, ash scattering grounds, or Mt. Nibel. If the Lifestream’s where all spirits come and go, or whatever, anywhere with enough mako could be connected to death...”

He had to clear his throat before his mind spiraled off into weeds. “It doesn’t matter. Why the hell are there any book about Nibelfolk in Shinra Manor anyway?”

“This place was the epicenter of mako research. Professor Gast was as intellectually curious about living cultures as he was about the Cetra and the potential of mako energy. There were more dedicated scientists eager to put your people to the book, but they all answered to him.”

With each word Sephiroth spoke his tone grew lighter. Less mocking, cryptic, and unchangingly cruel as he normally was whenever he opened his slimey mouth. Something in his eyes gleamed. Not with anger or hatred, but genuineness and earnesty. He finished while brushing some of his bangs away. His face fell back to a frown. “Some of the tomes kept of my attention even as I was looking for information on Mother and my own creation. It’s a shame not much of humanity is worth keeping around.”

It was there that the illusion broke once again. Cloud was left grasping for a sail cord within a storm that had ripped the sails from the mast. What was he supposed to do with that? Give him back the Sephiroth which spoke of his grand designs and was easy to put to the sword. Those little glimmers of there being anyone else behind the demon’s eyes wasn’t welcome. Get a hold of yourself. You didn’t know him. You don’t know him.

Sephiroth hummed. “You’ve been within the Lifestream before. Any similarities you see?”

Swallowing, Cloud felt his hands start to shake. The warmth, laughter, and feeling his mother and father’s arms around him clashed with Tifa and his own inner self coaxing him back to his mind. How the Lifestream could look like his childhood home one minute; then, shift to him cowering next to Tifa’s unconscious body in the same breath. Aerith standing at his back. Zack helping him lift his sword. That cold wasteland from his nightmare. The whispers only grew louder.

“Why are you asking?” Cloud stopped walking.

The glow from the giant materia at the center of the pond cast a blue light over his face and cut deep shadows into the cold Gnipahellir. His chocobo warked softly. Talons scratching anxious into the cooled mako flow when the demon stopped in his own steps.

Sephiroth fully turned to address him for the first time since leaving the reactor. There was a soft smile on his face. A curiosity and intrigue that somehow did not reach those hungry and evil soaked eyes. They didn’t hold any of the light from when he talked about the materia right behind them all those years ago. But they were not the malice drenched insanity he’d last fought. There was something wrong. Deeply, disturbingly wrong with all of this and Cloud could not understand what it was.

“Do you think I have come this far from being incurious? Please, have more faith in me than that, puppet.” Sephiroth chuckled as-if there was a joke. “The Lifstream is a collection of all there was, is, and ever will be—you know that as much as I. Picking and pulling apart those memories are only difficult in-so-far that they are vast; yet, I have found such infinity acquiesces once bent to breaking. I do endeavor to understand it. For my Mother. For myself. You and your tribe are a tiny blip upon the life of this Planet; and yet… ”

Moving into his personal space, Sephiroth gripped Cloud’s chin. Balking, panicking, Cloud tried to jump away and grab for a weapon which wasn’t there as Sephiroth held him fast. He stared. The prickling of the bond—Jenova’s own blood threaded into him—shot jolts of pain and fear through him. Cloud stood as a deer who caught sight of a hunter’s arrow. Laughter turned to screams. Shouts of war and blood and sorrow. Was it arrows? Magic? Bullets? Charred wood burned his nostrils. Iron coated his tongue. A primal cry of fear bubbled to his lips, but Cloud clenched his teeth till they begged for mercy to keep it down.

Sephiroth’s lips parted. He gazed around the chasm. An airy, almost blissful look took over his expression—like he could hear what Cloud could and delighted in it. “…your ability to hide things is most intriguing, Cloud.”

His gloves trailed down his neck before retreating. Cloud’s shot up to cover it. He took a deep breath and stepped back until his back hit the chocobo’s side. For a moment he worried Sephiroth would’ve grabbed him and snapped it. The dagger attached to his side suddenly became a noticeable and welcome weight on his leg. He did not dare touch it for any sense of safety.

“Come, Cloud! I still have information on Mother to find!” the demon ordered. “I will strap you to that chocobo’s reigns and make her drag you if you dally any longer!”

All that pent up terror and the sounds of bloodshed had to be shaken from his mind before Cloud could force his legs to follow. Those sounds faded quick as they came. Quelling his fear, he shook off the remnants and remembered how Mt. Nibel always played tricks. His mind or Sephiroth himself could make him hear or see anything. Mako fumes and him never got along either. Gnipahellir fell to silence. Only the whistling of wind blowing through the cave and the quiet song of mako reached him.

The scent of fresh air welcomed Cloud once they reached the lip of the cave. Jagged peaks and old Shinra buildings loomed above them, and he could finally hear the roar of the waterfall near Gunnthrá’s Pass where early morning sunlight covered the sky.