Author's Note: Here's the rewrite of Part Two, which is a bit more drastic than Part One. There aren't any major changes, but the differences are pronounced enough that if you read the original you should notice them without much searching.

Quick review of where Part One broke off:

Sephiroth chuckled, turning his piercing gaze on the girl. "Tifa…why are you so worried? Why are you so scared by these words?" He cocked his head to one side. "Hmm…shall I show everyone here what is in your heart?" Tifa started, her mouth going dry, and she turned her back on the horrible, beautiful image of Sephiroth and Cloud. "You look like you're not feeling well," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. With one more laugh, Sephiroth disappeared.

-

Part Two: I Remember…

-

"Tifa?" Cloud breathed, turning around to face her. "Is Sephiroth right?"

She closed her eyes, bowing her head. "Cloud…"

"Why are you so scared?' the young man inquired, giving a wary smile. "Don't worry about me, I'm all right. No matter how confused I am, I'll never believe a word Sephiroth says."

Vincent, silent once more, could feel Cloud's uncertainty seeping into his words. He may have sounded sure of himself, but he most definitely was not. Cloud, you know who you are, he thought. Don't you? You told me that you were the only one who could beat Sephiroth: that's who you are. He opened his mouth to speak, to voice his thoughts aloud, but Cloud cut him off.

The young blond slouched, eyes growing soft. "It's true that sometimes I can't figure out who I am. There's a lot of things muddled up in my memories." He squinted slightly, as though he were concentrating. "But, Tifa…you said 'Long time no see, Cloud,' right? Those words will always support me." He took a deep breath and stood up straight, closing his eyes as his lips curved in a contented smile. "I am the one you grew up with. I'm Cloud of Nibelheim. No matter how much I lose faith in myself, that's the truth. That's why you shouldn't be so scared." He opened his eyes, revealing them to be bright and certain. "No matter what anyone else says to me, it's your attitude that counts." He lowered his gaze and turned away, looking up into the sky. Past the flames, illusory and silent, into the stars. The same stars he and Tifa had looked at that day, so long ago…the same stars they talked under as children…the same stars that had led him back home.

Home…Nibelheim was home, he knew that much. He had grown up alongside Tifa and…and…others. Others he couldn't recall. No names, no faces, just shadows and flickers flitting through his mind. He remembered falling, screaming, reaching for someone's hand; he remembered hurting someone, feeling their blood on his hands and tasting it in the air, watching with what could only be called satisfaction as a body considerably larger than his own fell to the cobbled ground in a dead heap. He took a deep breath and shook his head to clear it of the images. He was Cloud of Nibelheim, he grew up with Tifa. That was the truth, wasn't it?

But if that was so, if she was his friend, why did he remember hurting so many people she cared about? He had hurt her friends, because they…they… He couldn't remember.

Tifa turned around to face him, but he had already turned away. "No," she said softly, inadvertently answering a question she couldn't possibly have heard, leaning forward just enough to put her into Cloud's peripheral vision. "That's not true, Cloud…"

The young man spun around, eyes narrowed, voice raised. "What's not?" he asked indignantly. "Aren't I the Cloud you grew up with?"

"That's not what I mean!" she replied vehemently. Her tear-shining eyes met Cloud's, and she felt her will bend to the point of breaking. He wanted it to be the truth—he wanted so badly to be the boy she had grown up with. But was he, really? Even Tifa didn't know. She averted her eyes, shaking her head. "I don't know ho to say it. Cloud, I need some time—just give me a little more time…"

Cloud opened his mouth to reply, but the words died in his throat as another flash of white heralded the return of Sephiroth. "Cloud, don't blame Tifa," the man said gently, his tone bordering on sympathetic. His eyes cast over Tifa, alighting on her bowed head for a moment, then shot back to Cloud. "The ability to change one's appearance, voice, and words is the power of Jenova. Inside you, Jenova has merged with Tifa's memories, creating you." He leaned down, eye-level with Cloud, and shook his head. "In Tifa's memories…there just might have been a boy named Cloud…"

A flash of white. Cloud's head began to hurt.

"Cloud…Please…" Tifa pleaded. "Don't think right now."

Another flash. Cloud lifted one hand to massage his temple.

Sephiroth laughed, his eyes narrowing, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "Think, Cloud!" He paused. "Cloud? Oh, excuse me—you never had a name, did you?"

Cloud shook his head, both hands against it now, fingers dug into his thick sunshine hair. "Shut up…" he rasped, eyes clenched tightly shut. "Shut up, Sephiroth."

"You still don't understand?" Sephiroth sighed, brow creasing. This boy was a failure indeed. "Then…" He thought; how to prove the truth to this boy? How to show him that his memories were smoke and vapor, as they surely were? He thought back to the day he had modeled this illusion after, and his lips curved in a wicked grin. He let out a laugh and nodded to himself—perfect! Oh, this was just too rich! "Do you remember the picture that we took before we headed for Mount Nibel?" When Cloud did not move, the silvery-haired turned his gaze to Tifa. "Tifa, you remember, right?" He held his arms out, turning back to Cloud. "But there's no way he would know…" He shook his head, lowering his eyes and arms and looking about. What had the photographer looked like? He had killed him back then, and this illusion was a perfect duplicate of what had happened that day, so he should have been nearby. "Now, what happened to that picture?" he murmured, more to himself than the three onlookers.

His eyes cast past the crimson-cloaked figure that had accompanied Cloud, brushing over him easily, but then his shining emerald eyes shot back. Emeralds met rubies, and Sephiroth squinted slightly. This man was…familiar. The tilt of his eyes, the way his hair fell just so…had he met him before? Cloud had called him Vincent—hadn't Doctor Gast once mentioned someone by the name of Vincent?

"But that's Hojo's business; no matter how wrong I think it is, what I'm doing is just as bad—in some ways it's worse. At least Vincent is an adult, our subject is just a child…"

The white-haired man shook his head, pulling his eyes from the shining crimson gaze of Vincent. There was something there that he knew, but he didn't care to find out what. Not just yet. His gaze found a crumpled figure on the ground, and his eyes lit up once more. He bent down and rifled through the man's belongings. "Is this it?" he breathed, brow furrowing as he pulled a small white object from the man's bag. He smiled, rose to his feet, and turned back to Cloud, holding out the photograph for him to take. "Do you want to see it? It turned out pretty good."

Tifa held out one hand. "Cloud, don't…"

He turned back to face her, eyes sharp with determination. "I…I should be in that picture." She opened her mouth to reply, to tell him not to look, but he turned away once more, shaking his head. "Even if I'm not there, don't worry. This is just an illusory world Sephiroth made up." He stepped forward, now an armlength from Sephiroth, and took the photograph. Their fingers brushed for just and instant as he took the paper, and Cloud had to fight to keep from shaking. The slightest touch and he felt a rush of indescribable power…could it be that he really was a Clone, and this feeling was caused by the reunion with the original? No—keep your cool, Cloud, he admonished himself. Come on…

He looked down at the photo, and his stomach lurched. There was Tifa, dressed in her deep orange mountain gear and that hat—the ugly brownish one that Cloud had always hated—with Sephiroth on her left, eyes averted, the Masamune propped against his shoulder. He had clearly just let out an exasperated sigh at letting himself get dragged into this, just as Cloud remembered. And on Tifa's right…

On Tifa's right stood the same amethyst-eyed, black-haired, indigo-garbed man that had replaced Cloud thus far in this illusion. He was smiling; the same arrogant, almost cold—yet still somehow cheerful—smile that Cloud had seen so often in his own reflection. Somehow, it looked more natural on his face than it did on Cloud's.

But wasn't this man the illusion, Cloud the reality? Cloud was real, this man was not. That was the truth—he had to remember that. Don't let it get to you, he thought. "Just as I thought," he said, letting his hand fall to his side, the photo sliding from his fingers. He looked up to where Sephiroth had been, only to find that he had disappeared while the younger man examined the picture. He raised his voice for Sephiroth, wherever he was, to hear. "This picture is a fake. The truth is in my memory."

He took a deep breath, thinking back. "Five years ago, I came back to Nibelheim to inspect the reactor. I was sixteen." He fell silent for a moment, calling back the words he had used to describe that time and images they coupled with. "The town hadn't changed at all. What did I do?" He thought for a moment more, then smiled and nodded. "Oh yeah. I saw my mom. I saw the people in town. Yeah, I went to Tifa's room. There I…" He trailed off, concentrating hard to call back the memory. He smiled slightly, holding a hand to his head and calling out vehemently. "I played the piano! I looked in the drawers! I read the letter addressed to Tifa!" His smile faded ever so slightly, going from elated to wistful as he closed his eyes. Block out the illusion. Call up the truth. I remember… "I spent the night and went to the reactor in Mount Nibel. I was excited about it…" His eyes snapped open. "…Because that was my first mission after becoming First Class in SOLDIER."

A flash of white.

"SOLDIER, First Class?" He shook his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "SOLDIER? When did I enter SOLDIER?" He held both hands to his head, wincing as though in pain. Why couldn't he remember? "How did I join SOLDIER?" He fell to his knees. "Why…why can't I remember?"

I remember…

He took an unsteady breath, eyes closed, hands shaking even as he tore at his hair. "I'm…I'm…" His eyes snapped open once more and he rose to his feet. His gaze was blank and unseeing, torn with shock. "That's right…" his eyes narrowed as the memory returned. "I didn't have to worry about it because I was…"

The world went black.

…Because I was made for it.

Vincent closed his eyes—white he could bear, black he could not. Unending shadow had been his world for years, he did not want to return to it. Not now, when it seemed they were so close to finally finding the truth; not now, when he was so close to finally atoning for his sins… He bit his bottom lip and shook his head, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "Not now," he whispered, knowing that no one would hear him. "Not now…"

"Cloud…?" Tifa whispered into the darkness.

Cloud let out a sigh. "Let's go, Tifa," he called. "I'm…I'm all right."

Everything, once again and for the last time, went white.

They were moving…Cloud could feel it. He bowed his head, eyes closed, and let out a long sigh. So everything had been a lie—he wasn't Cloud, he wasn't an ex-SOLDIER, he wasn't even human. Everything, every single thing he had taken to be truth, everything he had thought of as his life, were lies.

I remember…

Tifa had said it. 'Long time no see, Cloud.' But he wasn't Cloud—he just looked like Tifa's childhood friend because of the piece of Jenova inside him. Because Tifa had happened to stumble over him at the train station, and Jenova had decided that her memories would do just fine for the host of this particular Clone.

I remember…

What did he really look like under this lie? Was he just a copy of Sephiroth, an exact replica? Had he looked like…him…before Tifa came along?

I remember…

Or was all that a lie as well?

…Nothing.

There was ground beneath his feet again, and the world came back into being around him. There were people—people he knew and yet did not, people he had seen before but had not—gathered around the area, all of them seemed surprise at his sudden arrival. Vincent stood off to one side, just behind and to the left of a small woman with short blond hair and eyes almost the same cinnamon shade as Tifa's.

Tifa…she stood far off and away from Cloud, looking about in confusion. Hadn't she been able to tell they were being moved? Hadn't she been able to feel it? Cloud realized with a start that she had not—he did only because he was a part of the one who moved them. He had noticed only because, had he known the truth earlier and practiced, he would have been capable of the same thing.

But Vincent was not disoriented in the least. Cloud gave a short sigh, almost smiling—almost, but not quite—to realize that he was not the only one who was not quite human. Maybe he wasn't all alone after all…

"Where did you come from?" inquired the man to his right, garbed in a white lab coat, his stringy black hair shining sickly in the pale green light. Pale green? Cloud glanced upward to see a massive…tree? Roots, perhaps, encircling a great mass of what looked like unrefined Materia. If he squinted ever so slightly, looked a little harder, he could almost see into the stone…almost…see…

The young man looked back at Professor Hojo, the man with the disgustingly greasy hair and beady bespectacled eyes. He had said something, hadn't he? Asked…where Cloud came from. Yes, that was it. "Don't know…" he replied quietly, averting his eyes. But you should, he added silently, turning his gaze on the other all-too-familiar man, willing the current Shinra President to face him.

Rufus turned, running a hand through his short fiery hair, his turquoise eyes meeting Cloud's with a look of disdain. Cloud spoke before Rufus could. "This place is going to get rough," he said, not noticing that his words were muddled, not noticing how confused he sounded. "Better leave things to me and get out of here while you still can."

The Shinra leader raised one eyebrow. "Leave things to you?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "I really have no idea what you're talking about."

Cloud turned away and looked down at the earth beneath his feet, feeling the energy seeping in through his shoes. The soil seemed to vibrate with some unseen power, making Cloud nervous. It all felt so familiar, so right. This was where it was happening—this was where he was meant to be. "This," he said softly, gesturing about, "is where the Reunion is happening. Where everything begins and ends…"

Tifa rushed past Rufus, past Hojo, calling out. "…Cloud!" she hollered.

To everyone's surprise, Barret came rushing in at that very moment. "Yo!" He called, hailing Cloud. "We're here to help you!" No one was certain of what he meant by 'we,' nor how he had found his way there, but he seemed to think he was doing something right by appearing so suddenly.

Cloud shivered, the power in the earth building until he could barely stand it. He turned to Barret and took a step in his direction, but parting his foot from the earth was painful. He slammed it back down, renewing the contact between himself and the planet. He looked up at the giant Materia stone, gazing deep within its depths, and nodded. He painfully, shakingly, clumsily walked up to the much larger man "Thanks…" What was his name? He tried to remember. "Barret. Where's the Black Materia?"

"Cloud!" the word was hoarse, torn from Tifa's throat by something more than her own wish—he needed to come back to himself. He needed to remember! If he didn't… If he doesn't wake up, she thought brokenly, then the Planet is going to die!

Barret smiling, rifling through his pockets. "It's safe. I have it."

Cloud sighed and averted his eyes. "I'll take it from here," he said quietly. "Give me the…" he swallowed, a difficult task considering the lump in his throat, "the Black Materia."

Tifa's eyes filled with tears, her voice dropping to a ragged whisper. "You can't hear my voice?" She felt her heart begin to break. It was no good—he was too far gone for her to reach anymore. He had gone far away from her, lost within Sephiroth's words. Lost within the truth.

"You all right?" Barret asked, brow furrowing slightly. Cloud nodded and gave a weak smile, then held out his hand. "Okay then, here. Had a lot of pressure holding this thing…" He looked down just once more at the perfect blackness of the Materia. It was deep and dark and seemed to go on forever…and the power! Even Barret could feel it resonating in his hand.

Tifa clenched her eyes shut, hands curling into fists so tightly that her nails broke open her palms. "No, don't! Please stop! Cloud!" The tears spilled over, streaming down her cheeks even as she screamed his name.

Vincent closed his eyes and bowed his head; this was it, then, the end of all things. They had come so far, done so much, he had almost allowed himself to smile again…and now it was all going to end. Because of one little nightmare, condensed and solidified into that impossibly dark gem, they were going to die.

Cloud's fingers curled around the black sphere, the vibrations all around him intensifying the instant he touched it. Even through his gloves he could feel it—this Materia, like himself, was made for Sephiroth to control. "Thanks," he said softly. "Leave the rest to me."

For an instant he thought he could see Sephiroth; he could see those glowing green eyes, the faint smile that curved his lips, even the way his snowy-pale hair so perfectly framed his face was etched perfectly into that instant.

"Come on," a deep voice said, the sweet and dark voice that had so long haunted Cloud's dreams, the voice that now haunted his thoughts. "The Black Materia."

Just a moment more… Cloud thought.

"Wait!" Another voice, this one just as familiar though it was feminine in pitch, screamed, tone laced with terror. "Just a little longer!"

…Sephiroth.

-

Two parts down, one part to go. I'm just about done touching that one up, too, so it should be posted before long. Thanks to anyone who returned to read this update, and special thanks to anyone waiting patiently for the next chapter of Bound.

Also, just so everyone knows, this fanfic—under its original title, Your Life is the Illusion, was originally a single fanfic about twenty pages long, but I had to break it up to upload it properly. Hence the blockiness of chapter cuts. Well, that's it out of me this time; see you next update!