My puppet, my boy, wake up…

Cloud stirred from his cramped, uncomfortable position. His eyes were open, wide and unseeing as he stared into something not quite there.

They're trying to undo everything we've gained. Will you let them? The voice whispered into his mind and brushed against his thoughts like silk.

Everything? But he'd - they'd tried so hard, but wait…Cloud, he was Cloud, Cloud had killed Sephiroth and…

Don't worry about that now. The woman's voice, now, the alien's. Soothing, it cradled him like a mother rocking a child.

You will have a place at my feet. Sephiroth.

Cloud mouthed the name, mind full of awe and ecstasy.

You are mine, and they are insects under my heel. Kill them. Kill them.

Kill them.

Cloud slipped out of the bunk, not minding that he was wearing nothing but a pair of old soldier-issue pants, not noticing the icy chill of the cold tile floor on his bare feet. His movements nearly mechanical, he slipped on his armlet and grabbed the Ultima Weapon before stepping out into the hallway.

The leader, first. Chop off the head to kill the snake.

Good boy.

The blond stopped in front of Squall's door and regarded it with glazed eyes, trying with the little part of his brain that was still allowed to function to remember what the code Zell had entered in. Then he snorted. Screw codes. His power was Sephiroth's; they didn't need to worry about such puny security measures. He powered up a level three thunder spell, placed a hand on the keypad, and jolted the electricity into the system until the door slid open. Who said the direct approach never paid off?

A shock of surprise registered vaguely in his mind when he saw that Leonhart was not asleep, but looked to have just rolled out of bed and grabbed his gunblade. Cloud snarled at Leonhart, rage filling him suddenly. Some punk teenager playing Commander at life when he didn't know, couldn't know, how dare he think that he knew what pain and suffering were, how dare he judge Cloud? Cloud knew; saw the scorn behind gray eyes every day, because Squall thought he was Crazy. Leonhart couldn't have made it out of what he did alive, the basement and the pain and Zack and Aeris and Sephiroth.

Cloud wanted to rip him apart and show him pain. Unending, burning pain that made you wish you were dead, but no one was merciful enough to just fucking shoot you. Right between the eyes, bang, killing shot, that's all she wrote. Something Cloud had never, ever been given.

"What are you doing, Strife?" The commander had settled his body into an attack position, and now Rinoa had sat up in their tiny bed, pink nightgown rippling around her as magic gathered in her palms.

Pink dresses stained with blood, magic and laughter and flowers. Teasing, gentle and soft.

Why was Rinoa alive, who was she to smile and breathe when Aeris was rotting away in a lake somewhere?

Kill her. Not Sephiroth, all Cloud. The dark bits of his brain surging forward.

Yes. Kill her first and make the boy playing at manhood watch, make him feel what he thought he knew. Cloud clenched his sword hilt and ran toward her, almost too fast to see, swinging the Ultima Weapon down as she shrieked and threw up a shield spell.

"Break!" Squall's voice was frighteningly close to panic as he cast the spell.

The blond snarled as the petrifaction spell hit him, freezing him for a split second before his ribbon kicked in and negated the effects. This nearly inconsequential moment was enough for Rinoa to dive off the bed and for Squall to punch the pad next to his door and scream "SEEDS!" into it, his call echoing out over the PA system.

Any sane SeeD in the Garden, especially Squall's team, knew there had to be a damn scary reason for their leader to shout things over the loudspeakers at two in the morning. The response would be almost instantaneous.

Hurry.

Squall swung his weapon up and over, and though Cloud dodged to avoid the blade he felt a bullet lodge itself in his side, felt the blood pour from the wound down his hip and leg. He howled like a trapped animal and swung the Ultima Weapon, the tip opening a gash in Squall's chest. No good, it was too shallow, the commander would survive.

Cloud raised his sword to strike again when something hit him from behind. Stronger than a human should have been, faster and quieter to have avoided Cloud's notice. The blond tumbled forward, flinging the Ultima Weapon away to avoid impaling himself on the huge sword. The thing that had knocked him over struggled with him for a moment, and Cloud managed to flip himself over to stare into red eyes and the barrel of a gun.

Vincent had the smaller man's arms pinned to the floor with one hand, a knee digging into Cloud's abdomen; confused and wounded, the blond wasn't in any state to fight back. Valentine clicked the safety back on the small peacemaker he usually carried.

"Sephiroth, let him go," Vincent ordered.

There were SeeDs standing in the doorway now, and Cid and Tifa. Vincent didn't particularly want to splatter Cloud's brains across the floor in view of so many people, but…

"Let him go or I will kill him."

The dark man noted distantly that he was speaking with Chaos's rough, growling voice, though his body remained unchanged. Good, if his friendship with Cloud tried to get in the way of what he might have to do Chaos wouldn't have any such qualms.

"Why do you think he matters to me?" The thing in Cloud's body asked.

Cloud's voice, however, was simply Cloud's voice, though it spoke in a cynical, arrogant tone that Vincent wasn't used to hearing.

"If he did not matter to you, he'd be dead before this. Now let him go." His finger tightened on the trigger,

"How honorable of you, Valentine," not-Cloud snarled. "But I'll leave him to clean up this mess, for now."

Cloud stopped struggling, glowing blue eyes rolled back into his skull.

Vincent accepted the hand up Cid offered him, holstering his gun. The blond pilot nudged Cloud in his side, not too concerned that he was getting blood on his socks.

"Kid needs somebody to get that bullet out before he heals around it," Cid said.

Rinoa turned around from whispering a high level healing spell over Squall's wound, the gash in his chest closing cleanly without much evidence of it having been there.

"You want us to heal him?" Rinoa's voice quavered.

Cid shrugged. "Ain't the kid's fault the fucker got in his head. Shit, we should've been more careful."

Tifa watched in silent shock from the doorway. Squall turned his gaze from the man lying in a puddle of blood on his bedroom floor to Vincent.

"Would you really have shot him?" He asked.

"Yes." Vincent's tone left no room for argument. "Cid is right, we should have watched him closely, but we've been used to letting our guard down."

Cid knew Vincent must have been stretched thin if he was calling him by his first name. Traditional Wutai upbringing had pounded into the ex-Turk that first names were too affectionate and familiar, and he only broke that mental rule under great duress. Well, might as well spare him the rest of the dirty jobs. Cid bent down and scooped the smaller blond into his arms, grumbling mentally about how he was going to need a shower after this.

"I'll take him to his room," the pilot declared, slipping easily into the attitude he adopted when he wanted his crew to do something, and have it done five minutes ago. "Get your doctor to it so she can get that bullet out."

He couldn't give them time to think, because once they started thinking about it, they'd have everyone kicked out of this Garden so fast Cid's head would spin. So Cloud was a little fucked in the head? Who wouldn't be? And the Sephiroth problem…

Well, they were solving that, weren't they?

Squall was staring at him, every inch the confused teenager. Cid swore vehemently under his breath, but he knew how to deal with teenagers. He stared at Leonhart levelly.

"I told you to get something done, kid, get it done," he snapped. "Or do you like standing there gawking like a moron?"

Squall must have recognized the military officer tone of voice Cid usually saved for his crew. The commander grabbed a white tank top off the back of his desk chair and tugged it on before slipping past everyone in his doorway to go fetch his doctor. Cid nodded, satisfied with himself, and followed the Commander out the door. The SeeDs and Tifa parted dutifully for him and Vincent, skittering away from Cloud's bleeding form, and their actions left a bad taste in Cid's mouth.

•••

Cloud awoke slowly to the stinging taste of bile and blood on his tongue, the hazy memories of what he'd done a horrible mental punishment before he was even truly conscious. He'd been trying, really trying, to make sure they had no reason to doubt him or his comrades, to give them no need to suspect. Cloud didn't want to hurt them; he wanted to help them.

But now they thought he was insane.

And there was no denying that Cloud Strife was severely fucked in the head, but hadn't he been hiding it just ever so well? But god, now they were staring at him and now they knew, knew he was so damn wrong. Failed, twisted, wrong.

But if he was going to cry, he wasn't going to do it in front of them, hell no. Their accusing eyes, and he did deserve to be accused, would never see him in tears. He felt like a child again, curled up in a corner of his bed and trying to ignore the burning behind his eyes because he knew, god he just knew, that pain was going to come again.

They had hated it when he'd cried; they'd kicked and punched him harder. Hated being reminded that he was something human and alive and emotional and loved.

There was no mother to come to him with hugs and icepacks now. He was a grown man, wasn't he? All grown up, Cloud, supposed to be saving the world. How the hell could he save the world when he couldn't even save his own mind?

Vincent sat on the end of the bed, Death Penalty's safety was off but Cloud didn't know who Vincent was prepared to shoot. Cid was more comforting, obviously a guard dog against the SeeDs, Venus Gospel held in a deceptively loose grip as he leaned against the door frame smoking a cigarette. Cid wouldn't let even Vincent hurt Cloud, no matter what.

Cloud didn't know where Tifa had gone. She was probably afraid of him again.

The blond wondered idly if Leonhart was afraid of him now, if even cheerful, friendly Zell and naive Rinoa would look at him with terror printed on their faces. They were certainly staring enough, standing just behind Cid and gawking at Cloud like he belonged in a fucking freak show before the pilot told them unequivocally to fuck off.

Shitshitshit He was crying. Couldn't even pull himself together and act like a twenty one year old for five god damned minutes, could he?

Spike?Zack sounded tired and strained, as if he'd been pushing a rock up a hill. Impossible, of course, considering Zack didn't have a body to push a rock with, but still…

I am so goddamn sorry, Spike, they had me blocked. I couldn't stop it.

"Couldn't stop me."

Cloud no longer cared that someone might hear him talking to Zack, talking to himself. They already knew he was insane; why not give them more undeniable proof? Vincent and Cid didn't even flinch, though Cid's brows furrowed down as he frowned worriedly.

What had Cloud done to deserve such loyalty, such trust and respect? Highwind had stuck with him through the end of the world because the pilot hated Shinra with a soul tearing rage, but what had kept the gruff man around afterwards? And he'd kept Vincent around with him; the one member of the party Cloud had expected to disappear after the whole thing was over and done with.

It wasn't pity - both men were above following someone around out of simple pity. It sure as hell couldn't be Cloud's amazing leadership skills, which often bordered on barely competent.

I dunno, you can be pretty good at the rousing speeches and dispensing orders and what not when you really put your mind to it. Brilliant plans and such.

"No, you were, I just stole it from you."

Zack gave a soft mental snort. Cloud, I couldn't lead a chicken out of a wet paper bag half the time. All the brilliant plans were Sephiroth's; I just cheerfully made my men follow orders. I had charisma, but not leadership skills. You and Sephiroth, however, have no charisma to speak of.

"That's heartening, thanks."

I try, really.

"I know you're smirking, stop smirking."

You wound me with your accusations, sir.

Cloud buried his face in his hands and chuckled, trying to mask the fact that he was laughing. He could practically feel Vincent rolling his eyes, and that just made him laugh harder. Suddenly, Squall and his SeeDs didn't seem so damn important or intimidating anymore. He'd faced down the most malevolent evil in history, killed a mad scientist, and he had the loyalty of two of the most competent men he knew, how the hell had he been intimidated by a bunch of kids playing at heroes?

There was still the matter of Tifa, however. But she'd been inside his head, seen the darkness there, surely she'd forgive him, because she knew. He'd find her later, after she had time to think things over, and he'd apologize and things would be alright again.

"Vincent?" He raised his head from his hands, and caught the other man's gaze.

"Strife."

"Thank you." Cloud attempted a weak smile. "For what you did, I know it…wasn't easy for you, I think, but its nice to know that someone likes me enough to be willing to do that."

Vincent blinked, which was for Vincent enough of an expression to show that he was absolutely floored. For a moment he stared at Cloud, trying to determine what the proper response to that just might be.

"Vin says you're welcome," Cid offered.

Vincent graced Cid with a semi disgruntled look, but Cid just smiled at him. Cloud almost envied them and their sound partnership, one that had no masks or excuses, though he'd heard them argue and he didn't ever want to be caught between an angry ex Turk and a stubborn pilot. Is that what Tifa thought she could have with Cloud? A relationship without pretensions?

She was living in a dream, more than he was.

•••

"Spike, if you don't turn off the whiny music I'm going to put the buster sword right through that radio."

Cloud opened one eye to glance at the Soldier who had stormed, unannounced, into the trooper's cramped quarters. The blond certainly didn't think his music was 'whiny' so much as 'murderous', but he obligingly turned off the stereo.

"What's wrong, Zack?" Any other time he might have made a bitchy comment about this being his room, and he could listen to all the melodramatic rock he wanted, but Zack looked truly perturbed. Irritating Zack generally involved chocobos and small nuclear explosions.

"Stick up his ass son of a bitch ice general," Zack growled. "'Friendship is enough of a liability, Charon, much less…'"

The Soldier trailed off, and looked at Cloud as if he'd just noticed his subordinate and friend was in the room. At least Cloud knew what was bothering him now, and he expanded his list a little - chocobos, small nuclear explosions, and General Sephiroth. …did he even have a last name?

"Does he have a last name?" Cloud asked.

Zack blinked, momentarily stunned out of his anger. "What?"

"The General." Cloud still couldn't bring himself to call the man Sephiroth, not yet. "Does he have a last name?"

"Spike, I like you and all, but you are so god damned random sometimes," Zack said.

"And you're not?" Cloud asked.

The dark haired man thought about that for a moment. "Completely beside the point, I'll have you know."

Cloud finally turned his head to focus all of his attention on his friend.

"There was a point?" His voice was lazy, he'd just come from P.E. and he didn't have the energy to work up anything more excited than a sort of vague nonchalance.

Zack flopped down on the end of the trooper's bed and pulled off his boots, his face regaining its disgruntled expression,

"I was talking to Sephiroth, and I told him I wanted him to meet you…"

Cloud shot upright and barely managed to avoid trying to strangle Zack. Well, that had woken him up from his exercise induced stupor, and he had the horrified feeling that his face was bright red.

"Zack!" He managed to choke out. "You didn't!"

The Soldier grinned wickedly.

"Mentioned you were damn cute, too," he declared cheerfully. "Which started him in on his stupid little speech, which involved him calling me by my last name, which he knows I hate, so I started calling him 'Sephy' and it just degraded from there…"

Cloud was too busy trying to suffocate himself with his pillow out of the sheer mortification of it all to care.

Cloud stared at the ceiling of his dorm, running the new dream-memory through his head again and again, savoring it. It was good to know things were coming back to him, assured him that he was close to being complete again. Whether or not he would like what he was completed was not the question, it would still be him, punk teenager from Nibelheim who got beat up a lot and liked ridiculously bad rock music.

Though he figured he could deal with not getting beat up anymore.

Vincent and Cid had left him hours ago, though Cloud had the suspicion that at least one of them was sleeping against his doorway to make sure one of the SeeDs didn't try to exact a simple kind of justice. No one would be able to kill Cloud, of course, but the last thing they needed to add to the situation was a severely wounded teenager.

He mentally replayed the dream one last time, committing every last bit of it to a new memory, and then sat up and glanced out the window. Dawn, the time of reckoning. Well, time of showering and explaining what the hell was going on in his head, anyway. Cloud had a feeling he may have destroyed the tenuous alliance they had formed with the SeeDs, but when Sephiroth called…

…his puppet answered.

Cloud swallowed thickly and fought to recall his newly found joy from the memory, and the fortitude against the SeeDs he had summoned up the night before. He, as a rule, hated confrontation. Confrontation always seemed to end in broken bones and bruises.

He forced himself out of bed and into the bathroom, and frowned at the mirror. He was paler than usual from blood loss, though there was no longer any other evidence that he'd been shot. Outwardly, at least - his muscles were sore as all hell, and it kind of hurt to move. Deciding against a shower, as today was one of those days where he'd probably only result in half drowning himself, he picked one of his borrowed shirts up off the floor and pulled it over his head. Yesterday's jeans were bloodstained and filthy, but he couldn't summon up the energy to change them. Running a hand through his hair in an attempt to make it look presentable only made the spikes worse.

"You," he told his reflection matter-of-factly, "Look like shit, Strife."

Nah, the red in the blood really brings out the glow in your eyes.

"Shut up." Cloud smirked at the mirror, amused despite the situation. "Charon."

You.Zack paused for emphasis. Are mean, Cloud Strife.

"Yup."

He pulled on socks and boots then opened the door, sighing at the sight of Cid and Vincent playing a game of war in the hallway in front of his room.

"Don't you two have anything better to do?" Cloud asked.

"Nope," Cid answered, frowning as Vincent collected the cards between them. "Too damn jittery to sleep. Keep thinking someone's gonna pounce on us."

"I'll see Highwind gets some sleep now," Vincent assured, taking the remaining cards from Cid's hands and stacking them neatly into the pile. "Don't worry. You should go smooth things over with Leonhart."

Cloud nodded to them, and left them behind to bicker about whether or not Cid needed to go to bed. He was really, really not looking forward to this.

•••

"Tifa?"

The martial artist stifled a completely irrational disappointed sigh at the fact that the voice behind her was female, and certainly not Seifer's. She hadn't seen the young man since he'd led her away from Squall's earlier, and gently deposited her into her own with orders to sleep off her shock. Orders Tifa hadn't followed. She turned her head to nod a greeting at the girl who'd stepped out onto the balcony.

"Good evening Rinoa," she said. "It's a little late, what are you doing here?"

Rinoa stepped forward to stand next to her at the railing, fiddling absently mindedly with a ring that was strung around her neck.

"Are you okay?" Rinoa asked, ignoring Tifa's own question.

Tifa blinked, momentarily speechless before she regained her voice.

"Am I okay?" Her voice was incredulous. "Rinoa, are you okay? Cloud tried to kill you." Tifa winced at the frankness of her own words.

Rinoa shrugged. "I'm fine, Squall's fine, and I suppose Cloud must be fine, though I get the feeling it'll take more than a good night's sleep to fix him. But I wouldn't know, I don't love Cloud."

The older woman stiffened and just barely stifled her instinctive glare and vehement denials. She hadn't expected Rinoa to be so uncannily perceptive about her emotions.

"Cloud…" Tifa sighed. "Cloud never quite forgives himself for these…fits. But he can't help it, I know that."

Rinoa rested a hand on her arm, warmly familiar despite their short acquaintance.

"At least the rest of you are forgiving him, he has that," she said.

"Well, if he drives himself crazy again it won't be worth much," Tifa grumbled, surprising herself with her own anger at the situation. "And he barely ever lets us help! The only time he's ever opened up to me he was half-vegetable. And I love him!"

Rinoa looked at her, and the girl's tone was world weary.

"Have you ever considered he might not love you?" She questioned.

"But…" Tifa hated herself for not being able to come up with any defining Cloud Loves Me moments.

"I've been talking to Quistis," Rinoa confided. "And she says that sometimes people who have been hurt deeply attach themselves to the first person who shows them true, unselfish kindness, whether or not they love them. Like kicked dogs."

She had her fingers clenched tight around the ring now, as if trying to imprint the feel of it on her skin, and Tifa had the feeling they weren't talking about just Cloud anymore.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Rinoa smiled crookedly. "It's never been paradise, with Squall torn between his duties and loving me. And I always seem to come in last place."

"Well, you're young," Tifa said. "You have time to work it out. Or not work it out and find someone else, that's what being a teenager's for."

"I suppose." Rinoa looked sadly defeated.