Chapter 1: Welcome Home, Kitty

"Clear!" the scout called back. The phrase was echoed by distant shoulders hidden by the brush. Zack finally loosened his grip on the Buster Sword and took a shaky breath.

"Area secured." the captain bellowed from the trucks. "Haul in and prepare to move out!"

After hours of smashing down monsters, the handful of SOILDER had finally cleared a path for the convoy. No one really knew how it happened. The monsters had popped up in the middle of nowhere, on a well-patrolled route, hours away from any known nests, and in both a variety and strength uncommon for this side of the marshlands. It was just a lightly-wooded, well-packed trail that never had unusual problems. Until today.

Zack sighed. Everything had been going so smoothly. He had been looking forward to seeing the look on Angeal's face when he reported in, for the first time ever, that everything had gone according to plan. It had been a routine mako reactor inspection: drive there, get in, get out, and come home. It was simple – so simple that there was no way it could have gone wrong. They hadn't planned for any monster problems, especially not between Kalm and Midgar. Now, here he was, covered in monster gunk from head to toe for the fifth time this month. The joke was getting a little stale.

The third heard the tromp of others as they made their way back to the small convoy. Preparing to join them, Zack sheathed his sword. But a rustling nearby made him freeze.

Swiveling, Zack brought his sword forward. Worst case it would be another behemoth, best case it would be a bird. Birds were nice as long as they didn't shit on your face. The leaves parted. What staggered out of the bushes wasn't a dragon, tonberry, or even anything remotely like a monster – it was a cat. A fluffy, sliver, sleepy-eyed cat. A pair of pretty green eyes stared up at him, uncomprehending, before the creature fell to it's side.

Before sense kicked in, Zack sheathed his sword and squatted down to examine the little cat. It wasn't a breed that Zack was familiar with, but it's size did remind him of a Gongagan cat. The cats back home had been great for hunting frogs; cats tended to be impervious to random status ailments, which as mighty helpful when the town was low on softs. Zack had seen cats in Midgar, mostly fat and pampered, and otherwise useless save for being adorable. Cats, being so small, were delicate. It was a real miracle that this little guy had managed to survive the monster onslaught. If the convoy hadn't made an unplanned stop, that little cat probably wouldn't have survived.

"Hey, little guy," Zack gingerly picked up the cat, which lay like deadweight in his hand. The fur probably would have been soft if it weren't so gnatted. The cat felt light for its size, but not underweight. "did all those monsters tucker you out? You didn't fight them did you?" A paw twitched as if in response. A smile was blooming on Zack's face.

It was pretty dangerous out here. Who knows how long a poor, defenseless cat could last against the monsters if they came again. Putting him back down would be like leaving him to die. Besides, Zack had been wanting a cat. Being a farm boy at heart made the empty apartment seem lonely. Plus, his shiny SOLDIER third apartment allowed pets.

"Hey, Faire!" Meyers crunched up behind him. The younger didn't bother to look up from the small animal. "It's time to get back to the truck. Put the monster guts down and let's go."

"I found a cat." Zack called back. He knew his comrade had a soft-spot for small animals. Most people would never peg the guy like that, given his constant scowl.

Meyers looked over Zack's shoulder. The third could practically feel the tension melt off of him. "You're not gunna just leave it 'ere are you?"

"I'm taking him home." Zack smiled down at the sleeping bundle of fur in his hands. With the way the cat hung so limply, it looked more like a poorly stuffed ragdoll.

"You better hide that from the Captain He'd jus' toss it out the back of the truck." Meyers reached a hand to rub the little thing's belly. The cat didn't even twitch.

"Got it." Zack handed off the kitten for a moment as he tore up the already shredded bits of his uniform. After wrangling the cat back from the cooing soldier, the third bundled the kitten into his shirt. It didn't look too abnormal. Meyers promised to spot him if things got bad.

The ride home had been interesting. It involved a few more hours of sitting in the truck, hushed communal cooing, and clever hiding of the cat, before they arrived at Midgar. His squad told him about vets and pet-sitters and ShinRa policy; Meyers was the most outspoken about it, which surprised a few, and Zack found himself content. When he smuggled the cat into the building, he got an odd look from the guard at the base of the elevator, but otherwise everything went smoothly. Before he went off to debriefing, he made sure his new little friend was nice and safe in his apartment. He would worry about the mess later.

As Sephiroth became aware of his existence, he could only think: 'Aren't I dead yet?' After everything that happened, all the atrocities he committed, he wasn't dead. Strife had tried; but clearly it hadn't worked out. What happened after was a bit fuzzy, almost dream like. But he could only remember how green it had been, nothing more. Maybe he had gone back in time before he went insane and everything that just happened was a dream? That would be a laugh.

The path of destruction he had taken was still clear in the ex-general's mind. He had been doomed the first moment he set foot on the crazy train. For his entire life, there had always been this humming, demanding presence in the back of his mind. It told him to let go and stop caring. And for his entire life he had ignored it. Until Nibelheim. All it had taken was giving in for just a moment. That one, single moment had been ecstasy. He had yelled things that didn't make sense, set fire to a few buildings, and laughed like a madman – he had finally stopped caring about the repercussions of his actions, about being in total control.

But then everything spiraled out of anyone's control; no one could stop it. Back at Nibelheim, he hadn't paid much attention to the growing number of civilian bodies; he hadn't been paying much attention to anything. He hadn't cared anymore. Only after he stood down against Zack did he begin to realize something was wrong. His body wouldn't respond to his thoughts, he couldn't put his blade down and instead cut his comrade down. What he had thought would be freedom soon turned into a constricting cage – one that made the walls and labs of ShinRa look luxurious in comparison. He was trapped in his own body, pulled along by the alien who called itself Mother. For years he was forced to watch each and every act done by the monster that wore his face.

If only Sephiroth could have stopped himself. Starting from the moment he began to lose Genesis, he began making all the wrong choices – choices that seemed like the only way at the time, choices that drove the gavel of fate down. Time and the mental anguish let him ruminate. The monster Hojo had made him knew no other way; but the creature that he was now would do something different. He wouldn't be bound by his own inhibitions and hesitations. The prescription of being the best wouldn't matter anymore, he would let Genesis win, he would save Genesis; and by doing so he would save Angeal; and by saving them he would stop himself. He couldn't help thinking about such things, Sephiroth knew it was useless. It wasn't as if he could go back in time and stop it.

What concerned him more was his current situation. The ex-general wasn't dead yet. That could only mean that the parasite had something else planned for him. It's uncanny silence was odd, but not unpleasant. He could only hope he wouldn't be summoning another meteor in an attempt to become a god again.

But he had a strange feeling that wasn't the case. Something was different, he couldn't put his finger on it; but something had changed. Maybe he was just over-thinking the alien's silence.

The more he thought of it, the more he felt something else. It weighed heavily on his heart in a way that reminded him of a duty. That was odd. He hadn't felt that sense of order and responsibility since he went on his last mission... right before he got that one way ticket to crazyville.

Sephiroth felt a muscle twitch and he became aware that he had a body. Didn't seem like it was encased in mako. The more he became aware of, the more wrong it felt. His body must have been horribly disfugured by now. From his head to his toes, everything was out of place. To top it off something still seemed to be attached to his ass of all things (only aliens would think of growing wings there. They had the worst taste.)

It was then that he became aware of his other senses. A quiet air vent whirred somewhere above him, telling him that he was inside. He could hazard a few guesses as to why he could be inside after everything he'd done, most of them involved prisons or labs. But it didn't smell like either of them. In fact, the air smelled painfully familiar (and like a monsters carcass). He couldn't quite place what it reminded him of. That bothered him, but he was sure he would have plenty of time to figure it out later.

When Sephiroth opened his eyes, he was surprised. Mostly he was surprised at the fact that he could open his eyes. Ever since he fell into that vat of mako he hadn't been able to control a single muscle in his body; the parasite had decided that letting Strife one-up him hadn't been the best move. After he adjusted to the light, he was doubly surprised to see that he was laying on his side on a plush bed. Even with everything that way wrong with his body, he had been surprised he hadn't felt the soft cushioning beneath his ass.

The former god-to-be tried to figure out where he was. He was in a simple room. If his memory was correct, those walls looked like painted, military grade steel. They reminded him of SOLDIER apartments. That was odd...

Where could he be? There had still been a few clones wandering around outside the crater-barrier. It was possible that the parasite had willed them to bring him here. There was only one science facility on the northern continent, last the ex-general checked, and it had been Gast's. Fragments of Strife's memory told him that they looked nothing alike. Perhaps he was in a prison. The idea was laudable: who would lock up the man who nearly destroyed the world and put him out on a mattress?

Someone must have brought him here. He would have to wait and see.

In the meantime, he decided to explore. There was only so much he could see from his vantage and all this brooding was irritating him. Sephiroth tried to sit up; but found that his limbs moved so strangely that he simply fell back over. When he attempted to lift his arm; an awkward mass flopped up and then back down in his vision. This was just great. He couldn't move right, his body was a mess, and he had no idea where he was.

Sephiroth wriggled onto his stomach in an attempt to get his bearings. He tried not to be embarrassed about it, tried to reason that it was only a result of all those horrible mutations he hadn't had a say in, but he could only hope that no one could see him. He finally managed to push himself onto all fours with more effort than he remembered ever having to give. Ungracefully, Sephiroth sat backwards (perhaps falling would have been a better word), and took stock of his situation.

The room was still eerily familiar. It wasn't a transport, a prison, or a lab – at least like none Sephiroth had seen. It was something completely different. In sight, sounds, and scent: the name was hanging on the tip of Sephiroth's tongue. Sephiroth realized his mouth was a bit dry, and licked his lips. Only to find his tongue tongued something soft and pad-like just as soon as something wet touched his nose. Confused, Sephiroth lifted his hand, intent on discovering the disfiguration of his face, only to find a silvery paw hover in front of him.

A paw? Really? What in the planet's name had he been turned into this time?

Steeling himself, the ex-general looked down. He couldn't explain what he saw, even if he tried. The hind legs flailed ungracefully out in front of him that looked similar to a rabbits haunches. Between them was a thin silver tail – it seemed to be draped arm lengths away from him. He brushed one of those god-awful paws into his cheek. The pressure seemed to tangle against something and sent a strange tingle in the back of his skull and he quickly pulled it away. Whiskers? And a tail? That meant only one thing...

A jumping [1]. He was a tiny, pathetic jumping. Sephiroth had slashed through hundreds of them back when he was still just a child.

Sephiroth looked helplessly at the head of the bed, and then the foot of it. The distance between him and either side was too large. It was like he was in the middle of a helipad made up of mattress. Why hadn't he noticed that either?

There was one thing about being a huge monster with feathers; but there was no way Sephiroth was going to be a tiny, fluffy jumping.

If he was indoors somewhere, then there had to be a mirror. The former madman twisted and turned, he couldn't explain how he was unable to get up. The whole process was enough to make him go mad again.

Ah! There was a mirror. It was a small thing. If he weren't flopping around with so much grace, he wouldn't have seen it's glint on a bedside table. Getting to his feet... fours, did take more effort than he thought it would, but he did it. Small victories were necessary for his bunny form. Next time he was going to be bipedal; preferably something completely human, without wings on his ass.

After losing his balance, Sephiroth decided to move slowly. It was hard to estimate distance with his new size, but he guessed about a centimeter every few steps. What could have been hours later, he was nearly to his goal. However, blocking his path were large, fluffy pillows. Sephiroth had never hated pillows so much before.

The best course of action would be to jump. It would either be that or attempting to to clamber up like a man – rabbit – falling down a glacier. He knew from experience that jumpings did not fall very well, especially not down glaciers. It turns out, the first option wouldn't get him very far. On the bright side he learned he had claws – great for slashing into those horrible pillows. So he settled for clambering up.

For a moment, Sephiroth just lay there legs sprawled and panting. Once he got used to his new body he should be fine. Last time he transformed, he had been so pumped up of crazy juice that everything seemed to work just fine. Of course, Jenova has also promised him (repeatedly) that no amount of stabs or magic could hurt him. Alien logic was certainly ironic. Even at his stupidist, he could have told the creature that throwing enough firepower at one enemy would kill it eventually. Or at least turn it into a four-legged animal.

Speaking of animals, time to get that mirror. Now, atop the pillow, Sephiroth could see the simple hand mirror. It was unfortunate that the angle was wrong. Reaching out a hand... paw wasn't going to cut it, not when he couldn't even see the end of the pillow. Honestly, the curvature of the planet was easier to see. It looked like he was going to have to work his way across the fluffy tundra to figure out what he was. The parasite still wasn't offering any suggestions so he was just going to have to do it his way.

Even as Sephiroth contemplated how he was going to make it to the mirror in his condition, he noticed the glow of a clock beside it. Sephiroth couldn't remember the last time he had seen a clock. It was probably when another body of his stabbed a sword through President ShinRa's back. No wait, that didn't seem right... he must have known about it back when he floated on the U-Boat. But it was probably somewhere in the jumble of Strife's memories. That would explain why he couldn't remember. Even as Sephiroth thought, he noticed something odd.

The clock was wrong. It was those familiar, standardized clocks that the army used. The date was supposed to automatically adjust to ShinRa standard, regardless of where a soldier found themselves. But the technology came with multiple problems when it was rolled out and the date was always, always wrong; more often than not no two had read the same date. Sephiroth remembered keeping an internal calendar. After a year or two, the system had been adjusted appropriately. But he had never been able to bring himself to trust them again. Meteor must have dealt a serious blow to the servers.

That clock read a date that was seven years ago. Seven. A strange hope ran through Sephiroth at the thought; as chilling as it was warming. But he didn't dare think about that. There was no way the clock was right. Maybe if he hit it enough times the date would be set correctly. That had always been Genesis's way of dealing with technology problems. After an ungraceful jaunt across the tundra and a sliding fall, he was finally on a solid surface. If he weren't so focused at the task at hand, he might have been fascinated by the way the wood felt against his paw pads. Instead, he began work on the clock.

A gentle bump wasn't enough. So he... pawed at it. The clock itself tilted a bit, but the date solidly remained the same. There should have been a button somewhere, he remembered it being somewhere around the back. He tried to bend his arm-leg around the back and – Sephiroth tried to feel guilty as the device clattered to the floor. It was clearly broken, useless now as it had been. And look, the mirror. Mission accomplished.

Sephiroth turned to look in the mirror. What looked back made him freeze. The creature staring back at him wasn't what he expected. It was a silver cat. Cat. A cat.

Sephiroth honestly had no idea how he felt about being a cat. A few twists and turns showed that he didn't have anything growing on his back. That was a welcome change. Maybe the alien finally got a sense for the anatomy of Gaian-creatures. He remembered how people always commented on his cat-like grace. At least his eyes would fit his species now. He seemed to be covered in something purple – he wanted to say it was monster blood, but he couldn't be certain. But it did fit the lingering odor of death.

A door swished open. It was the kind of swish that accompanied key-coded doors often found in Junon and headquarters. The sound distracted Sephiroth from his inspection.

The clatter of footsteps and dropped equipment made Sephiroth's ears twitch. He would have ruminated on the fact that they twitched quite violently and unintentionally if the smell hadn't hit him. It was a familiar smell, nostalgic even. Sephiroth had always been sensitive to smell when he was mostly human; but now it was ridiculous. He could taste the scent as if a cloud had wafted towards him and wrapped around him like a coat. The footsteps were getting closer.

The door to the bedroom opened and Sephiroth was too stunned to react. There, looking in with his trademark puppy-brand smile, was the one and only Zack Faire. He was dressed in those old SOLDIER thirds of his and looked like he had just met the bad end of a behemoth.

Those purple-eyes darted around the room before they caught sight of Sephiroth and sparkled. The ex-general didn't realize he had moved until something pressed against his spine – but it wasn't his spine – with a snap before it shattered. The sound caused Sephiroth to jump; it ended up being a little more than a sharp turn of the head. He flew right off the end table. He might have commented on how gracefully he arced and his claws extended if he wasn't busy trying to figure out how to land.

"Oh shit!" Zack's voice boomed. He couldn't see the movement so much as he could feel Zack running towards him – hearing him clambering around helped too. Sephiroth didn't expect to be caught. Two - terrifyingly - huge hands easily splayed across the length of his body. And he found himself staring straight into a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed puppy.

Had Zack always been... so large? His face practically took up all of Sephiroth's vision, he even blocked out the overhead light. Sephiroth rarely had the occasion to be shorter than someone back when he was human. After Jenova took complete control, she made sure to hover over anyone who had the apparent audacity to be taller than him. For a disembodied collection of cells, she was extremely vain.

"Well, you're just a bundle of trouble. Just like me." The laugh was warm and familiar; a laugh Sephiroth never expected to hear again. The sensation of being lifted spawned a wave of dizziness, and the cat flicked his head to and fro. It was hard trying to assess direction and space when he couldn't figure out what side was up. "You did some impressive damage there, little man."

When they stilled, the ex-general could look down at the room. From his new vantage, he could see large purple stains across the bed, hefty claw marks that spilled the stuffing on the pillows, a mostly undamaged clock on the floor, and a shattered mirror at the bedside.

Cat-like grace, my ass, Sephiroth tried to snort. It came out as a sneeze instead.

"Hey now, that ain't something you can lift your nuzzle at. It's a nuzzle, right? Not a beak. Maybe it's a nose? Ah, whatever." Zack sat back on the bed, carrying Sephiroth with him. It was weird to be carried with a meager two hands. It wasn't as if he hadn't been carried before; but that was when he was a relatively large and well-muscled man. Men had literally groaned under the weight of his muscles; Zack was doing no such thing. It... kind of hurt the ex-generals pride. He couldn't help but notice that he could feel something slimy on Zack's fingers and he was pretty positive that there were indeed monster guts on his fur, probably courtesy of the younger man.

But all of that wasn't what was actually bothering Sephiroth. What was bothering him was the fact that Zack Faire – the same Zack Faire who he stabbed, got locked in a laboratory, and died a pitiful death – was standing in front of him like nothing had even happened. Maybe Sephiroth was dead and weird shit like this just happened when people died.

As the ex-general was thinking, Zack re-arranged his hold. Now Sephiroth's feet... hind legs rested on a sturdy arm, and his torso was supported by an enwrapping hand. It was a bit irritating, being manhandled like this. It was almost on par with the annoyance he felt when he was in the labs, which was dull in comparison to what Jenova put him through.

"Don't you look happy." The derisive comment was said with a joking smile as he bounced Sephiroth. Like a child! It took a moment for the former madman to realize that Zack was examining him as he did so. If he could compare it to anything, it was similar to the way Hojo assessed his experiments. But this was Zack. There was something completely different about it and it made him squirm even as he was bobbed up and down. If Zack wasn't... well, Zack, Sephiroth might have been concerned. Wait, shouldn't he be more concerned?

"You're a cool cat." Zack finally stopped that incessant bobbing. Sephiroth could only hope that he wouldn't start again anytime soon – or ever again. "And I'm not just saying that. You managed to survive such a badass monster attack without even a scratch! Well, you did seem kind of out of it. It was only a few hours ago and you're already back on your feet! You're super amazing." Sephiroth stared up at the ghost being. He was trying to tell himself that it couldn't be Zack, that there was no way, but that scent, that incessent yammer, and the way he narrowed his eyes and pouted his lip when he thought all pointed to the opposite. "Hey, you know what? You remind me of someone."

Don't you dare say Strife. Don't you dare, Faire. Perhaps Sephiroth should have ruminated on the fact that he fell so easily into Zack's flow; but he was too busy wishing that he could never be compared to Strife again. The parasite thought that had been a perfect pair and had liked to remind the both of them of their similarities day in and day out. It had been torturous for the both of them.

"That's it! You remind me of Sephiroth."

You have got to be kidding me. He didn't know whether that was funny or not.

"It's probably just the way you glare at me. Hmm... might be your nice silver coat too. Since you're a cat you probably don't know who he is. But he's... uh... he's kinda scary, but in a well-meaning way. Short patience though. I really respect him. I've always wanted to try calling him Seph, but Angeal told me I might get stabbed."

I would have and still will. If there was one thing Zack could do – ghost or real – it was talk people into sheer frustration. It was one of his special talents. When he had been watching Hojo perform experiments on Faire, he had half expected Zack to get out of it all with a flurry of bad jokes. That had almost happened – three times, actually.

"Oh, that's what I should call you! Seph!"

That's it. Be silent and let me think. The former madman reached out to claw Zack's blood covered armor. It wouldn't have done much damage, but he wanted to get his point across. However, his claws rested peacefully inside his paw and his pads gently pushed against Zack's chest. This body was stupid. At the action, the man grinned down at him. This is ridiculous.

"You like it? That's great!"

Sephiroth wondered if he could get a knife that would fit in his paw in order to stab Zack. A jumping could equip itself, so he should be able to.

"I did sort of smuggle you inside here. After I get monster gut off me I'll have to take you to the vet. Just to be sure you aren't sick or anything. I should get this gunk off me. Oh, and you too, haha. We're quite a pair. Don't worry, Seph, I'll take good care of you. Just try not to break everything, okay?"

There was no way that just happened. It couldn't mean what Sephiroth thought it meant. There was no way he, that alien bitch, or anything that was right in the world could let this happen. Sephiroth would not be ghost-Zack's pet. Temporarily or otherwise. Never.

[1] If you might recall, jumping are those rabid bunnies on the northern continent with oversized ears, fluffy tails and come equipped with a carrot. They're also pretty damn pathetic.