Author's Note: Chapter 3, yay! And no more editing screw-ups thanks to an animosity between a Sony Vaio and a certain fan fiction website. O.O How am I doing, folks? Please let me know how you think this is going so far, or to what direction you'd like to see it go, in the reviews. Otherwise, I'm just going to think everything's hunky-dory. Plus, I love getting that kind of feedback (AND it may spawn ideas, you never know). As we say in the South: Seph ain't changed much…but Cloud is more cynical. Haha. Anyway, thanks, and enjoy!
P.S. My thanks to Ceri Dragonelle for catching my little military time mistake in this chapter. It has been corrected.
Disclaimer: …own nothing…sadly…FFVII and its awesomeness still belongs to Square Enix… However, Vincent Valentine can move in with me anytime. ^_^
Chapter 3
Stillness and tranquility suddenly settled on Cloud's body as he stared into the face of his enemy; the hand was cold and clammy against his mouth, and the muzzle of the gun, he was certain, was going to leave a circular bruise on his chest he'd have to explain away in the next few weeks. Sephiroth's dangerous words left little room for doubt or question, and Cloud just blinked repeatedly after the General had spoken, hoping that maybe through his madness the man would see that he was more than willing to cooperate.
What do you want, Sephiroth? You have my attention. Cloud thought, his mind tapping apprehensively on the defenses of Sephiroth's psyche. He thought he saw a flicker of emotion cross his enemy's face as he pressed harder on Sephiroth's mind, but his attempt was brutally shot down and he retreated.
"When I remove my hand from your mouth," Sephiroth stated after taking in Cloud's abrupt change in manner and following the boy's futile attempt to tap into his consciousness, virtually ignoring the nearly intolerable Jenova buzz due to the prolonged contact of his flesh on Cloud's skin. He had startled the blondie, but the boy's body language had changed as soon he realized the General meant business with the weapon, and calmed himself in true SOLDIER method. Sephiroth then gave Cloud precise orders, emphasizing what the boy was permitted to do within set parameters, and the silver-haired man was, as always, in control of the situation.
"You will not speak unless I ask a question. You will not attempt to flee this room. You will not shout for help. This gun is loaded. Push me, and I will use it. Do you understand, Cloud?" The green eyes did not blink, but a small smile formed across Sephiroth's handsome features when Cloud nodded slowly.
Words cannot describe the relief both of them felt when the General released his hand from the boy's lips; to Cloud's dismay, however, the gun remained trained on the heart that thundered beneath his sternum for a moment longer. Finally, Sephiroth rose to his feet and strode back to the door and flicked on the light switch. The room was awash in fluorescent brightness from hell, and both squinted at the assault on their sensitive eyes; Sephiroth was the first to recover, and looked around Cloud's small and unremarkably sparse, off-white and tan painted living quarters.
A small desk and chair occupied one corner, with a laptop identical to Sephiroth's sitting on top. Shinra and their quest for uniformity… The bathroom was small and, much like university dormitory suites, was shared with the occupants next door, whilst a small vanity, sink, and mirror afforded Cloud at least some privacy. The closet was small, and like the rest of the room, was nearly immaculate; to say the least for the boy, he was clean and organized and as Sephiroth's eyes darted around the room, he noted with disdain that maddeningly oversized butcher knife of a sword sitting in the small space in the corner at Cloud's headboard and the window. Clearly, the Ancients wanted some semblance of impartiality between the two enemies; Sephiroth snorted at the thought and noted as Cloud flung the sheets off himself and sat heavily on the edge of his bed.
Cloud looked around for a moment, completely unfamiliar with where he was; the room layout he distinguished from his memories, and he blinked as he recognized this as a mirror-image of Zack's room…only it was so characteristically his own that it even sported Cloud's affinity for lack of adornments on the walls. Should put a nice poster up for some color, at least, he thought absentmindedly, purposefully forestalling the inevitability of looking at Sephiroth a few strides away as he rubbed his chest and the back of his neck; even the thin t-shirt in which he seemed to have been placed had little effect on the strength in Sephiroth's arm.
Obeying the orders of silence he had been given, Cloud sighed exasperatedly and glanced hatefully in Sephiroth's direction. He knew the twisted man was simply drawing out the silence in order to be as annoying as possible, so, to busy himself, Cloud stood and went to the window, opening the shade to a full, grand view of the Shinra complex, the upper plate of Midgar, and the blackness of the wasteland beyond. A thick screen of mako-laced smog obscured his view of the stars, but he took in a deep breath of air and knew he was home…well, that is, a home-away-from-home infused with smells that probably had not been given a name yet. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants and frowned.
Nibelheim would always be where his heart belonged, no matter where life took him. This second chance made him realize that he had been self-centered in the past, thinking that he would be better off somewhere other than where he was born. Simply nothing on the Planet could surpass the brightness of the stars in the clear, crisp air of that small mountain town. He grinned slightly at past memories of the howling of various wolf packs that protected and roamed the area; since he had been a child, Cloud had loved the wolf and its symbology, hence his reason for adorning the clothing in his past life with its totem. To pass the time while Sephiroth was probably mentally counting every single strand of the foot-lengths of platinum hair on his head, Cloud let his mind wonder further.
This was a fresh start, a clean slate, and for all he knew he had only been in this 'second chance' world a few minutes or hours before the shithead standing behind him woke him from the deepest (and albeit one of the most disturbed) sleeps he had had in an extremely long time. Cloud found it amusing that his first thoughts, besides the fact he thought he might be royally screwed because Sephiroth was armed with something other than Masamune, was Nibelheim. His mother was still alive, and young Tifa was probably awaiting that phone call he had promised her so many years ago.
Cloud wanted to go home, and this second chance had given him a whole new perspective and outlook on life. Maybe, this won't be so bad, after all.
He noted with pleasure that the Ancients saw fit to have First Tsurugi accompany him, and he only imagined the hateful thoughts that were passing through Sephiroth's mind at his beloved custom-designed sword. Cloud finally decided to step away from the window and square himself with his enemy, and to make and keep eye contact, but it was a few moments before Sephiroth spoke.
"I have some basic, excruciatingly simple ground-rules to lie down before you, Cloud, if we are to proceed." The silver-haired man began, walking once again into what could be called the center of the room. "These rules would be considered common sense for most humans, but with you…"
"Can we skip the prologue? Just tell me what the hell is it you want, Sephiroth." Cloud dared speak and Sephiroth responded by leaping forward, taking Cloud's throat in his right hand and slamming him into the far wall between the bed and the window, not caring if there was a muffled thud as the boy's back made contact with it; in the same motion he brought the gun to Cloud's chest once again, smarting already tender and bruised flesh and bone. He did not struggle against Sephiroth's grip, but the hate-filled lightning in his mako-blue eyes was unmistakable. This, of course, only elicited a smirk from the notoriously aloof silver-haired General.
He took the boy's features in with scrutiny, and it was then that Sephiroth's earlier guesses were confirmed; there was a long white, almost perfectly straight scar on Cloud's left cheek and within seconds his eyes darted over the boy's exposed shoulders and arms and saw proof that Masamune had once again corroborated its immense worth. He was, indeed, virtually as scarred as Sephiroth.
"Your impertinence is making it very difficult to even begin consideration of the Ancients' plan, you wretched child," Sephiroth hissed at Cloud as he tightened his grip on his throat, his lips precariously close to the boy's ear. The blond hero frowned in earnest and looked at the General sideways. "I told you to hold your tongue, and like a marionette without its master, you refused to listen. Appalling."
Sephiroth backed away and his cat eyes blinked as he took in Cloud's reaction. He dropped his gun hand to his side as he released his throat and grabbed the computer desk chair, pulled it out to the middle of the room, and roughly, without much of the grace for which he was known, sat down heavily in it, his gaze never leaving Cloud's. In response, he watched Strife take a seat on the edge of his bed and lean forward, conveniently keeping his mouth shut this time while gently messaging his sternum.
"We are not friends, Cloud Strife." The General began, tossing a huge section of his long hair over his shoulder. His lips twitched in a snarl as he laid his feelings right out in front of Cloud, who merely responded by raising two blond eyebrows. "I have an intense dislike for you, if you have failed to figure that out by now…and I believe the dictionary term for that is hate. The scars you carry are just a small tribute to the desire I have to do nothing less than cut the heart out of your chest; I hate you, and the thought of working alongside you is tremendously nauseating. We will not be bosom buddies, we will not be partners. You have your tasks, and I have mine; though I fear that implies perhaps working together, that does not mean the rivalry between us will change."
Cloud sighed and rubbed his burning eyes, wondering to himself how in the name of all that was holy did Sephiroth rationalize telling him these things, of which he was already aware, at two-fricken-o'clock in the morning? Then, a thought crossed his mind, a thought that had been permanently burned into his consciousness since that day in the past when Sephiroth had kidnapped him to the Lifestream during his initial quest to stop the madman: Cloud, he's Sephiroth the Psychopath; your argument is completely invalid. As Cid would eloquently declare: Way to choose your enemies, dumbass.
"Do I make myself clear, Strife?" Sephiroth finished in a brutally quiet whisper, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His green reptilian eyes were calm and in control.
It was a moment before Cloud answered, and in that time span Sephiroth watched as Cloud's blue eyes wandered over his muscular body, and Cloud's expression went from a frown of uncertainty to a smirk of almost disbelief. Then, the boy glanced down at his own arms and shoulders, seeing what were left of various nicks, cuts, and stabs from the General's extremely sharp sword.
I wonder if…mmm, I'll check later. Cloud thought, not really feeling comfortable stripping his shirt off in front of his enemy just to count how many other scars he could find. Thanks, Cetra. I don't think we would have forgotten, though, he mused, mentally shaking his head at the finer details of the Ancients' intentions.
"Sephiroth, I am painfully reminded every damn day of your feelings for me." Cloud began and Sephiroth sat back in his chair in gratification, picking up the hint of aggravation in the boy's undertone but deciding to ignore it. "But, I have no intention of screwing this up. Aerith made it explicit that we must work together in order to accomplish the Ancients' plans. That is we, as in you and I. Not just you, not just me. Us."
Cloud's analysis of the Cetra's use of words was impressive, and illustrated the fact that even though he was, physically, only sixteen years old, the maturity and communication skills employed was that of a twenty-three year-old man. Sephiroth knew he was right, and he was thankful Cloud had enough wit to understand that this teamwork was just going to be a noble means to end.
"That means any decision made concerning a possible 'rerouting' of the future needs to be mutual, General. And yes, do expect me to call you that because you are my commanding officer, and not because I have a need to make your life any rougher than it already is. Regardless of the orders, missions, or assignments Shinra gives you, should any lead to areas pertaining to the past and the future, you must include me." Cloud continued, blinking but not breaking eye contact with his enemy. "That is to say, I do not assume you will call or text me every time a situation arises, but if it's of some importance, then we must work together; but, ultimately, you are in charge, you have final say, and we must try to maintain whatever expectations there are of us in this lifetime, in order to not rouse suspicions, and to accomplish our mission. Does that make sense?"
"I concur." Sephiroth said quickly, and Cloud arched an eyebrow at him. "And as your General, Strife, I expect to be treated with due respect from a subordinate. If I recall correctly, in the…'past', I was aware of your existence as only an infantryman, and I surmise it will be a similar situation in this reality. As such, it would be…"
"We cannot act like we're fixin' to murder each other, I get it." Cloud interrupted coarsely, his country accent shining through in his fatigue, and green fire glowed in Sephiroth's eyes. His muscles bunched in anger but he did not move. "Unless otherwise noted, we ignore each other. I follow orders; you deal with the politics and red-tape. We accomplish our mission, everyone goes home happy. Sound like a plan?"
After that comment, he wanted nothing more than to walk up to the cheeky little bastard and slap him across the face, but instead Sephiroth only sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes. Cloud was used to being a leader, making the hard decisions…and evidently, coming directly to the point. In a few sentences, the blond menace managed to say what Sephiroth would have, no doubt, taken several paragraphs to articulate.
Platinum bangs, parted as ever on each side, shadowed his face as he dropped his head in contemplation, unsure of his next words. He had come here to bully Strife into submitting to his rules and… to sequester an explanation from him, as well. Or rather, an opinion he had not been given a chance to procure when that flower girl confronted them in her church. However, as he thought further, that opinion would be wrought with hasty conclusions should this conversation continue on its present course; both men were tired, and it was never a good idea to get someone's feelings on a subject matter when they were sleep-deprived.
"Second Class SOLDIER Cloud Strife," Sephiroth began, jerking his head up as he went into commanding officer-mode. If you want me to be your General, Cloud, then we start right now. Let the games begin. Like a good boy, Cloud snapped to attention on his bed and saluted his superior, mentally smiling to himself.
Let the games begin, indeed. Cloud reasoned abrasively, forcing himself to not blink as Sephiroth mentally stuck out at him for his snarky…thought.
"At 1400 hours tomorrow, you shall report to my office for our follow-up meeting, and your next assignment. Since you probably have failed to recollect from the past, it is room 7501a, on the 75th floor, of course. If something occurs forcing me to cancel or otherwise reschedule, I will text you within an hour of said meeting with a new time. I will not accept tardiness, and/or excuses at your inability to be there. Is that clear, Strife?"
"Yes, sir." Cloud responded, lowering the hand from his forehead as Sephiroth stood and stepped slowly toward the door. Without so much as a farewell, the General left in a swirl of silver hair, leaving Cloud in a deep sea of insomnia-induced anger and confusion.