So yeah, this is my first story. I've been on FF for a really long time, but it's the first time I've tried my hand in this. The idea actually started from reading self-insert fics. Everyone and anyone was writing them and the characters were the same ones over and over. I was reading something about Vincent and Lucrecia, and then I was struck by the thought of being the mother of Sephiroth. It's probably the best and worst thing to happen to a Sephy fangirl after all. So I took the idea and ran with it, and this is what I got.

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII.

It was a rather abrupt turn of events. One moment I was rifling through materials for my college thesis, another moment I was tossed through the air, papers flying everywhere. I hadn't actually seen the vehicle that had hit me, but I'd certainly felt the impact. That was what actually killed me, not the landing. I was dead before I ever hit the floor.

There wasn't actually any fanfare, or mysterious visions or voices. The second I died was the second I opened a different set of eyes, gasping a little in shock. I think I stumbled over something and fell, but I didn't stand back up despite much fussing from the woman with me. I lay there, cheek against the cold floor, tears silently trickling down.

I think I laid there much longer than I thought, for the woman who had clucked reprimandingly over me started pulling me up and, upon seeing the tears and the expression on my face, gave me a sharp wack on the butt that shocked me back to consciousness. I stared up at her dazedly, absently wondering who she was, before lurching forward as I was grabbed by the wrist and pulled. The woman said something sharp as she dragged me along. We entered a house (I realized we had been outside), up a flight of stairs and then into a room before she, muttering under her breath, exited with a clack that echoed.

I stared after her in confusion.

xXXXx

The moon was shining brightly through the windows of the room as I looked around. There were a few stars as well, but the glare of the silvery orb made them appear dim in comparison. I sat on the bed in the room, still feeling the phantom pain of being hit, my body folding in on itself with a crack and the vision of paper fluttering down gently from the sky.

What had happened?

I stared blankly at the tall bookshelf standing in the corner of the room. There was a desk and chair beside it, with a lamp and several writing implements. A note with some writing lay on the table. Opposite it, in the other corner, was a mountain of toys and dolls. Several large teddy bears were positioned around a pink round table with a tea set. A single chair stood in between a brown bear with beady eyes and a white polar bear with shiny blue marble eyes. Hanging on the wall nearby was a tall mirror. A second door stood beside it, likely to the washroom.

I stood up unsteadily, feeling both out of place and confused. 'Where am I?' I thought. Walking towards the desk, I picked up the note. Several letters were painstakingly repeated on it, "L-U-C-R-E-C-I-A". Obviously the work of a child, most probably her name. I looked over it carefully before setting it down and going over to the bookshelf instead. Randomly selecting one, I flipped through it quickly. It appeared to be a collection of fairy tales. I closed the book shut and read the title.

Wait. What?

I read through the title slowly again to make sure I had gotten it right the first time. 'Midgar Folk Tales'.

Wait. WHAT?

Distantly, I could feel shock registering in my brain, together with disbelief and incomprehension. I wracked my mind for the name of a country called Midgar. The only match was one that existed purely in a set of video games that my friend had bought for me a year ago. Final Fantasy VII.

I must be dreaming.

I replaced the book and looked around again. Spotting the mirror, I strode nervously over. What I saw was rather unexpected. I hadn't noticed the height difference, a small voice spoke in my head. I simply stared at the reflection.

Instead of a young Asian woman of 5.4 ft, a little girl with brown hair and eyes stood. Her hair was mid-length, tied partly at the back in a braid. She wore a bright yellow dress with shiny pink buckled shoes. She looked 4, maybe 5 years old. She didn't look like me.

I turned around slowly to examine 'myself'. I made a face. I hopped on a leg. The image in the mirror followed exactly. I didn't know what to think.

This must be a dream.

I stood still abruptly, noting that the image did the same, before striding decisively to the bed. Kicking off the shoes and untying my hair, I laid under the covers and closed my eyes, determined to fall asleep.

The memory (or was it an illusion?) of being hit by the vehicle flared once again, causing me to shiver uneasily.

xXXXx

I awoke the next morning to the glare of the sun in my face. Covering my eyes with my arm, I sat up and stretched. I rubbed my eyes blearily before looking around again. A shiver ran up my spine as I stared.

I'm still here.

The urge to scream welled up in my throat as I stared in horror at the pink walls with the bookshelf in the corner beside the desk and the pink table surrounded by teddy bears.

Why am I still here?

A shriek escaped my lips as the door pounded. "Miss Lucrecia! Time to get up! Breakfast in 15 minutes!"

I gaped at the door.

"Miss Lucrecia? Wake up!"

I swallowed, "I-I'm up!"

"Finally, child!", and then the door swung open to admit the same woman who had put me in the room the previous day. She was holding several garments in her arms. "Here!", she laid them out on the bed briskly, "Pick your clothes out for today. Remember you have lessons after breakfast with Mr. Morris!"

Hurriedly, I pointed at a simple blue dress, rather stunned by the woman's loud voice. She frowned a little before shrugging and pointing to the washroom, "Wash up now child! And remember to wash behind your ears!"

I got out of bed to the displeasure of who was obviously my nursemaid. She scowled furiously at my crumpled dress and eyed the shoes lying haphazardly on the floor beside the bed. I skittered quickly to the washroom, not wanting to face her.

I stared at the reflection in the bathroom mirror as I brushed my teeth. My eyes examined the face that stared back at me. Straight brown hair, not too high a forehead, large shining eyes, button nose and delicately high cheekbones. I rinsed and spat.

This isn't me.

I turned on the shower and stepped under it.

This isn't me.

Hot water splashed onto my skin, turning it lobster red.

This isn't me.

A sob escaped me as I stared through the glass at the blurry figure in the mirror, featureless but still too short.

My god. This isn't me at all!