In all honesty, the last thing Cloud expected was a welcome reception.

"You must be Cloud." A few strands of dark hair slipped loose from the woman's bun and draped over her one eye just so.

He didn't recognize that name, but as the woman took his hands and cupped them in hers, something felt familiar. Not in the gesture. It was her smile.

"Poor dear, what on Gaia happened to you? Come with me. I'll fix you up proper at the house."

Cloud cast a quick glance around. Just as he suspected, the majority of the townsfolk stood with guarded expressions, their children tucked behind them with identical looks of awe and fear. The woman tugged at his hands, pulling him along behind her. Gently he complied.

Her house was on the outskirts of town, a quaint garden of flowers blooming next to it in florescent shades of green and white.

Must be the mako, someone inside commented.

"Your clothes are terribly worn. And you're so thin! We really must do something about those bags under your eyes…" The woman maintained a steady monologue of concern making Cloud blush with self-consciousness. It was sweet of her, but he could take care of himself.

When he smelled the tantalizing spice of warm broth, he changed his mind.

They didn't speak again until Cloud was carefully slipping spoonfuls of soup between his fangs.

"Thank you," he muttered as a few droplets splashed onto his pants. They were filthy, and he was suddenly aware of how much dirt encrusted mako he'd leave on the armchair when he stood up.

"Think nothing of it, dear," the woman smiled. She held up a wet washrag and caged, "Would you allow me to rebandage that?" She was gesturing at the loose pussy bandage Cloud had wrapped around the black wound.

His eyes flicked upwards, and he was about to rebute the offer, when their eyes met. He froze as terror wiped his mind blank and images of death swelled to fill the emptiness.

The woman took his silence as acceptance and began to wipe away the drainage. "I know we've never met, but Zack has told me so much about you in his letters I feel you are the son I never had."

Zack. Through the haze of panic the name came through piercingly clear.

"Although…I haven't heard from him in many years. I was hoping you might know why."

Zack. Zack was this woman's son? He knew Zack? Why couldn't he remember?

Sleep, Jenova commanded. Just as his questions started to form on his lips, she rushed to the forefront and blocked him from control. Close your mind to her words and rest.

Again, Cloud tried to move. He could still feel the gentle swipes of the rag on his arm and the bowl of soup warm in the palm of his hand. But he couldn't move.

And here he thought he had been gaining control.

The true mastermind was the one who let him believe that.

His eyes closed and slowly the exhaustion seeped in. Cloud's body was exhausted; it was undeniable, but if he fell asleep he wouldn't learn more of Zack. Who knew when he'd get another chance?

Are you just going to make me sleep until she stops talking? Cloud challenged.

No, Jenova sneered. I'm not so passive. But then, neither are you.

Cloud felt his hands moving against his will. Struggling, he tried to keep them from rising. His eyes shot wide open.

The woman gasped. "Your eyes are…"

Gold. He knew. Vincent had revealed just as much. The Planet and its genocidal will had control of him. He was a person. Human. At least he hoped so. But he was also a weapon. Maybe not in the WEAPON sense, but at least in the capability to kill manner.

Just as he was about to wrap a hand around her throat and squeeze until the last inklings of breath joined her to the lifestream, the front door opened. It startled the three of them – Cloud, Jenova, and the Planet – and allowed the moment Cloud needed to force his hands back at his side, trembling.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Cloud's wings curled protectively around him, protecting whom, he wasn't certain, but it provided a needed barrier between himself and the woman as her husband bounded through the room toward the two.

"Sweetheart, who is this?" the man asked.

Cloud closed his eyes as the woman stood and began to explain whatever it was she understood that neither Cloud nor the man seemed to. After all, she was the one who said she knew who he was. Rather than struggle to listen or fight Jenova, he let the built-up exhaustion take over. He wanted to know more, but he wasn't willing to risk the Planet taking over to satisfy his curiosity. If anything, he knew for certain that killing people wasn't something he as a person…as Cloud, would feel comfortable allowing. So for now, he'd let Jenova have her way. He'd sleep, and not hear Zack's parents discussing him and Zack in hushed tones.

A few minutes later, or hours for all Cloud knew, there was a slight weight draped over him. Cloud's eyes were open in an instant. Suddenly wired with panic, he stared at the object covering him completely. The woman's – no, Zack's mom's – hands were near his chin, holding the thing. She stood still, watching him carefully as he watched her.

She seemed to be waiting for permission to let go, to leave him under this…this soft fabric thing. He glanced up at her with wide eyes, and while he did not meet her gaze, her mouth turned downward in a saddening way and he knew she pitied him.

When Cloud made no move to throw off the gesture, she let go of the object and moved to gently tuck it around him. Softly she mourned, "Have you never had a blanket of your own?"

Blanket…The memory slid into place. As he watched Zack's mother finish tucking him into the arm chair, he was suddenly assaulted by a familiar smell. Dust marred the scent as he breathed it in, but it turned his muscles to mush. Something safe was hidden within that smell. He smiled.

Zack's mom stood back and watched as Cloud readjusted his wings, tucking them behind him and pulling the blanket up over his nose. He slumped down in the chair and closed his eyes with a sleepy smile.

Cloud let the smell relax him, a piece of his memory sliding quietly into place. He was at peace.

In the corner of his mind, Jenova seethed.

… … … …

Cloud couldn't remember feeling this well rested. Of course that wasn't saying much, but then that was hardly the point. The point was what had woken him.

Zack's mother was at his shoulder, shaking him slightly, tentatively. Her face was scrunched in concern.

"I'm so sorry, Cloud. It's my husband. He doesn't want you here. I tried to explain to him, but he's…afraid."

Cloud swallowed back the sudden surge of disappointment. He was right. People were going to stare and shun him. He was lucky Zack's mom had more love in his heart enough to banish any apprehension. And he had nothing to offer in return.

Not even word about her son like she had asked for earlier.

He moved stiffly, aching to stretch his wings at full span. Unconsciously, he moved to touch the bandage covering his arm. The blanket slipped down over his shoulders, and Zack's mom moved to sweep it off him.

Instinct kicked in, and his hands grabbed for it, yanking it away with enough force that she had to grab onto the armrest for balance. He growled, low and throaty, staring at the bridge of her nose to excuse the lack of eye-contact without breaking the illusion of it. He did this all without thought.

She stepped back, hands held up in surrender and shock. As his snarls died down, she lowered her hands and that pity Cloud hated to see returned to her expression. She knew without asking what that blanket had done for him.

It was warm and safe in a way his wings couldn't protect him. It was the first show of kindness offered him with no strings attached. More than these, it was sending Jenova and the Planet into the back of his mind. They were quiet, and while it was disquieting to realize that this growling mess of panic was who he was and him alone, at least it was just him in this moment.

He couldn't give this up.

With a soft laugh that wasn't at all mirthful, Zack's mom smiled and watched as Cloud wrapped the blanket tightly around himself, leaving only his eyes glaring at her and a mess of terrible bed head crowning it all.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice was deeper. More heavily accented with a mellowed tone. And it was so familiar.

"Hey, that's alright. You can keep it."

Cloud was breathless. "What did you say?"

As she repeated the words, her image distorted. A face grew over hers, sharper features. Glowing eyes. A man, not a woman.

And he was saying his name.

"Cloud."

And then there was another voice. Sweet and soft. A girl's. And she was saying his name too.

"Cloud."

And a woman's with golden curls and a voice of honey.

"Cloud."

A commander.

"Strife, Cloud."

A friend.

"Cloud!"

An enemy.

"CLOUD!"

They overlapped until his head was filled with the noise. He gasped. The memories assaulted him like Shiva's icy daggers. He staggered outside, running. Running, somewhere. He didn't stop until he was out of view from the village. Shrubbery and hidden life surrounded him while he panted on all fours. His heart pounded with such ferocity it took his breath away, and he clawed at the mucky dirt, trying to regain control.

Slowly the assault faded to a numb pulse. His name was Cloud. He knew it. He remembered it. And so did Zack.

He knew Zack. He had heard him speaking to him. What had he said?

He could…keep his blanket?

Cloud looked down. Snagged in his claws was the blanket, dirty and torn from his frantic escape. Cloud glared. Now that the panic had faded, he felt rather silly. He had fought over a blanket. How pathetic was he?

He stood. In one motion, Cloud threw the blanket over the bulk of his wings and tied it in a knot over his chest, letting it hang like a kid's cape. If he didn't feel silly before…

And yet somehow he knew that Zack wouldn't think it was silly. Not if it helped, which for some reason, it did.

Cloud began to walk, raising a hand to poke at his tender throat. It was sore inside, and he was a little thirsty. Probably from the growling. He wasn't accustomed to making such a sound. It was still unreal that he had been the one making it.

Maybe the people were right to fear him…

There was a rustle behind him.

"I'm a stealth ninja."

Cloud stopped and cleared his throat. His voice was soft, but carried a note of finality when he asked, "Why are you following me?"

The bush moved and a girl stepped out. She was tiny – younger than him even – and with features unlike anyone he had ever seen before.

It hurt to look at her. First she posed one way, then darted behind him. If he turned around she struck another pose and reappeared in another spot with that same bouncy grin that had him spinning in circles trying to keep an eye on her. She acted like it was a game, until finally he stopped and shook his head, trying to dispel the dizziness.

Finally she spoke. "You look stupid."

Bewildered by the assessment, Cloud wasn't sure how to respond. "Um…"

"You looked way cooler with your wings out – how did you get those anyway? – and now you've got some dumb blanket on. What are you? Two?"

"Uh…"

She darted up to him and poked his uninjured arm, dashing away before running back up and poking him again, much more boldly. "Why's your skin smell like materia?"

"It…does?"

The girl crossed her arms and huffed. "You think I don't know my stuff?" She held out a giant shiruken at arms length, leveling it with his chin.

He looked down the blade at her, totally confused. Who was this kid?

Thankfully that was quickly answered. "You don't recognize me? I'm Yuffie, the White Rose of Wutai and the best ninja you'll ever know."

"Right," Cloud finally managed. He moved the tip of her weapon with one finger, and stepped to the side. "And I'm going this way."

Yuffie spluttered. "Hey! Where are you going? You can't just ignore me!"

Cloud kept walking. "Then you'd better keep up."

After a pause Yuffie sprinted up alongside him. "You stink," she decided with a pout.

He wasn't sure if she was referring to the smell or his personality. He decided it didn't matter, as she continued to talk, eyeing him hungrily whenever she thought he wasn't paying attention. She wanted something from him, that much was clear, but she wasn't making any move to make off with whatever it was she was looking for.

As they walked Cloud realized how clear his mind was. The blanket around his shoulders, a name to his unrecognizable reflection, and a steady outside voice keeping him grounded – it was enough.

Cloud rubbed at the bandage on his arm once more and kept walking.


-Dante