Again, hugs and cookies and kisses to my reviewers, because I appreciate every bit of feedback very much. And much, much love to my beta, as always. And this is the chapter where we're starting to get right down to it, so do not ignore the following warnings:

WARNING! Slash (this means there's TEH GAY, folks, quite a bit of it), Het (The NON GAY. Hey, if I have to warn for one…), strong language, violence, shoddily written battle scenes, Really Strange Cross Video Game Couple, and general Cloud torture.

•••

Tifa wandered the halls of Balamb Garden, feeling acutely out of place. This cool, militarily efficient place reminded her too much of Soldier, and she just wished she could leave.

No, I'm not running away, she scolded herself.

She had faced down dozens of things more frightening than echoing metal corridors and merciless killers lurking behind the eyes of innocent teenagers, she wouldn't act like some terrified child now. Especially since the others didn't seem to mind; she couldn't let herself be the weak one. But the three of them had all been in some branch of the ShinRa military once (and wasn't that a sobering thought), so this was probably familiar to them.

Tifa hated it here, despite the welcome Selphie had tried to give her. She was a good girl, a nice girl, but she was a mercenary just below that exuberant surface, and would kill Tifa without a second thought if Leonhart gave that order. This place was everything the martial artist had grown to hate in her life, a place that bred no mercy, the sort of place that let Sephiroth fester like an infection.

Was there another Sephiroth living in those messy dorms, just waiting for their own Jenova?

She pushed open the door to the second floor balcony, suddenly hungry for fresh air and sunlight. She needed to get out of those taunting hallways. Tifa had not counted on someone sharing her retreat, but his smile seemed inviting enough.

"Hello," she said.

"Hey." His voice was confident, just shy of arrogance. "Needed to get out?"

Tifa hesitantly returned the smile. "It was just a little… stifling in there, is all."

He leaned back on the railing, his legs crossed at the ankles and a white trench coat falling in folds around his legs.

"You mean it was ten seconds from driving you absolutely batty," he said with conviction. "I know the feeling; I don't want to be here either. You're one of the ones from the 'other world'."

"Yes, Tifa Lockheart."

She extended her hand to him, and to her delight he didn't do something stupid like kiss her knuckles, but took it in a firm and friendly shake.

"Seifer Almasy."

"Oh."

Seifer snorted and rolled his eyes. "I see Leonhart has spread the tale to all of you. Feel free to run away screaming at any time."

Tifa remembered Cloud, hiding his pain and confusion beneath a thin veneer of arrogance after she'd found him at the train station, and it struck a chord in her. Seifer probably had very few friends here, and many enemies. Well, who was she to hold something she hadn't even witnessed against him?

"I'm sorry," she replied quickly, hoping her voice was pleasant. "I was just a little surprised."

•••

Irvine was nervous, which was a completely understandable emotion considering he was in the company of the most intimidating people he'd ever met. Vincent Valentine looked like he'd stepped out of one of those horror movies that Irvine would never admit scared him, and could the guy's eye color get anymore creepy? What the hell kind of person had red eyes, anyway? That just wasn't natural.

Usually Irvine had the shooting range to himself; no one else in Balamb was currently specializing in sniping and gunmanship, so the only kids who came over here were the little troop of mini-gunbladers who had to work on their pistol skills. So when Valentine swept in, that blood red cloak swirling impressively behind him like he owned his own personal wind, Irvine had been a little more than surprised. He had been Officially Creeped Out, but at least the guy used a weapon. If he used a weapon, it wasn't likely he'd rip Irvine's throat out with his bare hand…er…claw.

Valentine turned his head slightly to look at Irvine, and the younger sniper swallowed nervously. The dark man could probably smell his fear or something nuts like that, just to make Irvine's life worse. The guy wasn't even using the ear mufflers the Garden supplied for the shooting range, which was really just plain stupid. Irvine had enough fun going deaf on the battle field from the noise of gunshots, he wasn't about to blast his eardrums more than necessary.

Irvine stared when Valentine began loading his huge ass shotgun, the thing was practically a cannon. It was, hands down, no exceptions, the most beautiful, most enticing gun Irvine Kinneas had ever seen. Selphie had long since gotten used to him lusting over firearms, and not even his beloved Exeter could stand up to that…thing.

"It's called the Death Penalty."

The brunette startled back slightly when Valentine spoke, his smooth voice barely above a whisper as he answered Irvine's unspoken question. The sniper took this as an invitation to speak.

"How do you handle the recoil on that thing?" He flipped the brim of his ever present hat up slightly so he could better gawk at the amazing rifle.

Vincent held up his claw. "This hand is stronger than my other; the kick back is no problem."

Irvine whistled quietly. What he wouldn't have given for an aid like that when he'd had the Bismarck, the gun had had the habit of making his hands go numb after extended periods of use. Then again, claw arms probably weren't a painless thing to obtain, and Vincent didn't exactly speak of it with fondness - more like a detached disgust.

"Ever sniped with it?" Irvine asked, curiosity completely overcoming his fear.

"I have not been a sniper for a very long time," Valentine admitted.

"Eh, I haven't had many chances since the whole Sorceress thing. Just became a full SeeD, but I've done a few jobs…" Irvine was painfully aware of his own babbling. He had a tendency to go off on long rambling tangents when agitated, he still remembered the embarrassingly corny speech he'd given the girls that first day on the train.

"I heard the story," Valentine offered. "Your hesitation makes you human."

"Does it ever go away?" Vincent would know what he meant. The guilt when you saw someone completely unsuspecting slump over dead, not even given a chance to fight. Irvine always came away from a snipe job feeling like he was going to throw up, and if he was alone he sometimes did.

"No." Valentine paused, as if considering his words. "Not really."

Irvine hesitated for a second, reloading the gun he was using for practice.

"Good," he whispered past the sudden lump in his throat.

There were a few things he would not give up for SeeD, and one of them was his humanity. The two gunmen spent the rest of the time in the shooting range in comfortable, if not exactly companionable, silence.

•••

"Would you be able to find him?" Quistis asked.

Cloud shook his head, spiked hair swaying slightly with the movement.

"Sephiroth will find me, if he wants. It doesn't work the other way around," he confessed.

Quistis was awed for a moment about how young Strife looked. She knew, of course, that he was in fact older than her by a few years, but his large eyes in that small, fine boned face must have always cursed him to look a little younger than he actually was. The fact that he was dressed in a pair of jeans from Squall that had to be rolled up at the ankles, and a t-shirt from Zell that kept threatening to slip off his shoulders didn't help. He wasn't even wearing shoes, padding around in his socks and saying that it made him feel more comfortable.

It made her maternal instincts want to cuddle him, but she had the strong feeling that he'd object. Rinoa would probably latch onto him eventually, and if she was lucky they'd both make it out of the experience with all limbs and Squall's sanity in tact.

And of course, the large sword he always had with him completely ruined any childish image.

"Isn't that…dangerous?" She questioned hesitantly.

Cloud shrugged with one shoulder. "He's always dangerous. But he probably won't blow this place up out of hand; he seems to like me alive." His voice became thin and slightly strained towards the end of the sentence.

"And if he does come for you?"

"I'll do my best." He didn't elaborate, he didn't have to.

Quistis sighed and tapped a pen against the edge of her desk, gnawing on the inside of one cheek in a nervous habit. This was looking worse and worse by the minute, with no end to the decline in sight. She searched her brain for more pertinent questions, trying to dig up that tiny bit of information that would lead to some sort of marvelous epiphany.

"What do you think of Seifer?" She knew the question must have seemed utterly random.

The blond swordsman snorted derisively, and he rolled his eyes. It was a slightly out of character action, as was the slouch he suddenly adopted. Cloud Strife was truly an enigma.

"He's an asshole. If Sephiroth does target him, it'll be as a distraction or bait, nothing more. He's too arrogant by far, and it'd be a waste of time to make him a good…clone…minion…whatever." Cloud waved his hand around slightly in a dismissive gesture.

"Then we can…" She started.

"Don't release him from Garden," Cloud interrupted. "He's still a loose cannon and could screw everything up if you don't watch him."

Quistis nodded, and scribbled a little memo about that on a post-it note. She always remembered things if she took the time to scribble them down on post-its, that was the way her mind worked.

"Squall would be happier that way; he doesn't trust Almasy at all," she told Cloud.

"Like I said, he's an asshole and a screw up."

The instructor remembered that all too well from her days forced into Seifer's company. The man had a special ability to rub absolutely everyone the wrong way, no matter what he did. He delighted in it too, toying with everyone to piss them off and garner a little amusement from their temper tantrums. Strife had had the right of it; Seifer was nothing but the basest level of asshole.

"How long do we have before Sephiroth knows exactly where you are?"

"He already does." Cloud got a far away look in his eyes. "He always knows where I am and what I'm doing."

Which was just a little creepy, in Quistis' opinion, but she didn't comment. Instead she relayed her orders from the Commander. "Squall and Rinoa want to talk to you, but they're out at lunch right now. You wouldn't mind coming in later, would you?"

Cloud shrugged, and Quistis chose to take that as an affirmative.

"How are your companions settling in?" She asked in an attempt at familiarity.

Strife simply shrugged again. "They're fine, I guess."

He stood up abruptly and left, Quistis blinking after him with a slightly perplexed expression on her face.

•••

Cloud was on his way to that meeting with Leonhart and his girlfriend when the semi-placid day was violently interrupted. There was a shrill ringing as the alarm sounded through the halls, but all the SeeDs stayed remarkably calm, as if emergency procedures had to be done everyday. Cloud, for his part, unsheathed his sword and ran towards the entrance, his stocking feet making no sound on the metal floors.

It might have been human once, the thing standing at the doors, but it wasn't now. For one thing, humans generally didn't ooze nor have razors attached to their limbs. The monster looked like a Jenova test subject gone horribly, terribly wrong. A warning, perhaps?

The thing made the first move, screeching like a banshee as it charged Cloud, ignoring the few SeeDs who had arrived in the lobby. Cloud dodged backwards and deflected one of the monster's razor arms with his sword, cursing as he realized he'd forgotten his arm band and its materia. The only things hooked into the Ultima Weapon were support magic and a summon he didn't particularly want to release indoors. Ah well, he'd defeated worse with less before, this was just going to be a pain in the ass.

With inhuman speed it slash another arm at his face, and he brought his sword up just in time to protect his eyes, though the blade of the monster skittered down the metal and cut deeply into Cloud's cheek. The pain was ignorable, the blood a small nuisance. Cloud brought his sword down, and then swung heavily, catching the thing on the flat of Ultima and sending it crashing into a decorative stand.

There was a heavy gunshot crack and Cloud turned his head slightly to see Leonhart standing there, the strange gunblade leveled at the monster, pistol still smoking. The brunette wasn't even looking at him, steel blue eyes narrowed to a single focus, the threat to his Garden. The creature, for its part, was gaping down at the bloody wound in its stomach like it didn't quite know what had happened. Cloud stepped back as Leonhart charged, content to let the teenager have his victory.

There was a mutated head on the floor within the next thirty seconds. Squall was good.

Something flickered at the back of Cloud's mind, something horribly familiar. Leonhart turned to stare at him as he dropped the Ultima Weapon down to the ground, the sword ringing against the metal floor as it escaped from suddenly numb fingers. Cloud's hands dug lightly into his hair as he whimpered, pain pounding in his temples, pain because he'd dared to attack something Sephiroth had sent, but more because he'd allowed himself to be hurt by such a pitiful thing.

And then Sephiroth was there, teleporting with one of his favorite little tricks right in front of the blond so that Cloud had no choice but to look. This god among men, this deity shoved among mortals like a swan pushing against the crows, beautiful and deadly and everything Cloud wanted and despised. Leather clad fingers on his cheeks, tilting his head up to connect his gaze to chilling green eyes. Green like the lifestream, green like Aeris's eyes, Aeris's eyes that he loved.

Loved? No. He loved green eyes, but not hers…he…

Cloud felt like a teenager again, awed in front of the Great General. Sephiroth stroked his injured cheek in an almost gentle gesture that made the healing wound burn slightly with pain.

"My pretty little puppet."

The blond had thought he was free of this, the pull towards this immortal wonder, the need to obey every word whispered in that velvet smooth voice. But he would never truly be free of that compulsion, because he fed it with his own need.

"You have come to challenge me."

Cloud wanted to open his mouth, wanted to say something heroic about how he was going to kill Sephiroth again, wanted to scream at the silver haired villain, but found that his voice wouldn't obey him. A sudden burst of sickly green magic, and Cloud was thrown against metal walls, his head ringing with the impact as Sephiroth stepped towards him and snarled.

Leonhart seemed paralyzed, in awe or fear or both.

"You cannot even think of challenging me."

Small little blond, amazing even as a trooper, so much more mature than most of them coming into Midgar with high hopes and dreams ready to be crushed. He'd failed Soldier, come back in two years, but he'd caught Zack's attention. Zack who collected lost humans like some people collected stray puppies, making friends with others most wouldn't even touch.

Sephiroth shook his head, silver hair drifting around his face. Zack was inconsequential; Cloud…the puppet was worth not much more than the dead man. But Sephiroth could never kill him, could hurt him and hit him and make him bleed, but could never, ever stop that determined heart from beating. It was confusing and infuriating and wonderful all at once, the challenge of the beautiful little marionette trying to cut its strings.

"You are mine," Not gloating, a statement, the simple and inescapable truth.

"No…" The puppet was staggering to its feet now, weaponless and devoid of magic, captivating like a shining butterfly before a child rips off its wings. The rebellion in its voice was seductive as the matchlessly attractive blue eyes.

Mother did not like him thinking such things, but Mother in all her glory and wisdom could still never understand the lure his puppet held for him. It was a challenge, and so very few things challenged him now.

"You follow me here to this world; you bring companions in your impertinence, and gather more allies about you. You should have come alone, and sought me only. I will rip them apart in front of you, for you do not belong to them."

"I don't belong to anyone!"

One of the other ones, the disposable ones, snapped out of its shock and charged towards Sephiroth, strange weapon raised in a foolhardy attack. Sephiroth sidestepped the weapon, and wrapped his elegant hand around the human's throat, lifting it off the ground. It was almost as small as Cloud, but nowhere near as attractive, though its mind was filled with many twists and horrible little secrets.

"You are like ants charging at a mountain. Mother and I will crush you with ease."

This world was lovely and green, and its lifestream untouched by humans who had discovered other means of getting by. Sephiroth would grow so powerful here, and mother would have herself a new body, and they would rule for eternity with an iron fist and Cloud kneeling before his everlasting throne.

Sephiroth tossed the useless mortal aside, the thing skidding across the floor before smashing into a walkway railing with a little grunt of pain.

"Sephiroth…" His name like music from the puppet's lips.

Sephiroth spread his hands wide and grinned an awful grin. "I will come for you, My Puppet, and we will be together forever in the ruin."

And with that, he was gone, leaving only a monster corpse and many befuddled humans behind him. Cloud Strife dropped to his knees and tried very hard not to sob. He knew he was shivering, could see his hands shaking as he balled them into fists and tried not to remembered the touch of leather on his skin and the pain as Sephiroth knocked him into the wall.

So many things wrong and so few ways to fix them.

Strong arms under his shoulders, hauling him to his feet as the scent of nicotine invaded his nose. Cloud hadn't notice Cid arrive, and that was a bad sign since the pilot rarely did anything with stealth.

"Hey, Spike, stay with us."

Cloud wanted to throw up, with his head pounding and Zack silent like death in the back of his mind. A second pair of hands, the cold metal of Vincent's claw arm, joined Cid's in holding him up before the world went black.

"Or not…" Cid tried not to sound worried, but it wasn't really working.

The others had gathered near the entrance, though most of them had only caught the tail end of Sephiroth's little lunatic fiasco. Leonhart was staring at them, shock written over features that for once showed his emotions plainly as his breath came in slight little rasps.

"That was what we're fighting?"

"Sephiroth? Ya, that's the fucker," Cid glanced down at Cloud, supported between the pilot and Vincent. "Kid wasn't ready for it."

"No one was ready for it," Vincent corrected softly.

"But none of the rest of us has to go through a grade-A mind fuck every time that bastard shows up."

The rest of Leonhart's team seemed at a loss for words, until Irvine summed up the situation quite nicely. "Well, fuck. I think we're screwed."