Thanks to everyone who faved, alerted or reviewed this story! You make me feel all warm and squishy, ^_^

Wowza that was a long hiatus, wasn't it? But hey, I've been busy.

And I'll say this: 20 hours in an overloaded Volkswagen Beetle, with my mom and two cats (one of which whom wanted to be all of the driver's side and complain loudly whenever she didn't get her way), was definitely an interesting experience.

Then came the staying with a relative, hotel hopping and home searching.

Let's just say that, despite finding a place to live and moving in on the 13th of June, we didn't have furniture until the 24th when it arrived. And, it proceeded to rain the entire moving day…and the next, which kinda sucked since it was my birthday…But I had access to a computer!

Last week, I think Wednesday, I got my driver's permit (I know, kinda late, but I never had a real reason to get one since there was no purpose for one yet). Am scheduling for driving lessons to prepare for the test.

What else…oh yeah! On the 15th of June I went to Summer Orientation at the college I'm going to in the fall. Met some cool people and my roommate. And, before I even left on my trip, I made a Facebook page. Not much on it since I'm more of an e-mail person than a social networking person, but hey.

Anywho, long ramble about myself is over.

Side note: This chapter is a little jumbled and weird. It's supposed to convey disorientation, the loss of self-awareness, obsession, and then, the steadiness of resolution.

BOLD text will be dream sequences and BOLD w/ italics will be flashbacks, to prevent confusion…

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII in its entirety do not belong to me but to Square Equinox. To quote another writer: "These are not my toys; I'm just abusing them…"

Rating (chapter): M (mild violence, blood, language, general mindfuckery…fluff and implied sexual situations)

Word Count: 3,544

Summary: The first thing on Cloud Strife's mind when he woke was Not Again. Reliving the past once was hard enough, but doing everything again for a fourth time…Refusing to believe that he is trapped in a cycle of endless death and re-birth, Cloud decides to do whatever he can to stop the future he knows from happening. Along the way, he finds himself tangled up with the man he could not help but think was beautiful but learned to hate. Sephiroth was always part of the problem, but could Cloud turn the General into the solution? Time Travel fic/AU.

Fourth Time's the Charm
by Catsitta

"Insanity is doing the same thing again and again, and expecting a different result."—Common saying

Chapter Thirty-six: Misperception

His head hurt.

No. That was not strong enough a way to describe it.

He was in fucking agony!

Cloud trembled, still frozen with shock, and struggled to breathe. It felt like daggers were grinding against his mental walls, blunt but ruthless, vicious in their assault. He just wanted to rip his hair out, to fall to his knees and scream until the pain went away. Instead, he stood there, eyes becoming glassy as his vision fell out of focus.

Sephiroth lay there, bound and overcome by the effects of his Slow spell. His lips never moved. He never screamed Cloud's name nor ordered him to stop and return to his side. Yet he heard his voice loud and clear, much like a gunshot in the crisp Nibel air. The attempted breech into his mind was obvious, but the method crude. It was as if the man had no idea what he was doing or that that he was even doing it.

But if he was not aware of the connection, then how did he use it?

Without the Jenova cells in Cloud's system, how was there even a viable link?

Confused and one step away from utter panic, the blond clamped his eyes shut and without preamble or thought to the consequence, he snarled aloud,"Get the fuck out of my head!" The mental assault abruptly stopped, only to slam harder against his barriers a moment later. A cry built in Cloud's throat, choking him and he fought to keep Sephiroth out of his mind. If the man succeeded in invading his thoughts, the hero of Gaia would surely break.

When the attack on his senses failed to cease at his warning, Cloud felt himself slip into a desperate state of self-preservation. He refused to become a puppet again—a mere pawn in JENOVA's games. The blond opened his eyes and threw himself on the bound silver-haired warrior, lethal intent flashing in his eyes.

000X000

Sephiroth did not know what to expect when he disobeyed Cloud's command and once again reached out to him with his mind. It was a strange sensation, letting his thoughts travel along that invisible connection between them, especially when he had to make a conscious effort in doing so. He felt hyper aware of everything about himself and Cloud—the fear and anger, agony and desperation radiated off the blond in waves.

And it was…addictive.

He could hear feel taste smell see each flicker of thought that passed between them. Cloud's subconscious shrank back, but a bitter tang of electricity, acrid and sharp, sparked forwards wantonly. His conscious mind, on the other hand, did not retreat; rather it hissed and snarled, writhed and kicked with fearful anger so pungent that he could smell it, so thick he could cut it. And cut he did, his mental acuity as keen as Masamune's edge, slicing great wounds in the barriers thrown around Cloud's panicked mind.

Just as he took that final plunge, too lost in his own fascination to stop, he felt it. Cloud's unconscious mind. Sephiroth reveled in the salty sweetness of desire, so very heavy with lust and shameless need. Drifting through his senses was the perfumed taint of love and adoration, a boy's faint admiration matured in the blood of the fallen and at the heat of battle. It brushed against him, whispering of wicked hate and bared-threaded restraint.

He wanted him. He needed him. God and angel at last were reunited, their separation across miles of mako-colored seas no longer existed. He could feel it. He knew it. He wanted it so badly.

This was his soul mate. His chosen one. The only person in the world who could ever fill the void of existence and make him complete. Sephiroth would do anything to keep Cloud close now that he was certain. He would love him, hurt him, consume him. He would ravish and purge his angel of all doubt and contempt. No one would ever take him away. Even if there were more than a million questions to ask, and less than a handful of answers to be given, Sephiroth did not care.

This boy. This little blond ex-Cadet who first showed up in his office, all covered in bruises with a strange gleam in his wide-blue eyes, was his.

All that was needed was to make his claim.

And…

Sephiroth's train of thought was broken as that lithe body he wanted to ravage, landed heavily upon him, knocking the air from his lungs. The silver General grunted and looked up just in time to see Cloud's hands dart towards his throat. Instinct returned, and the swordsman flexed his arms, wrenching at his bonds. But the action was delayed, and as the metal wire and cloth snapped, small, calloused hands encircled the column of his throat and began to squeeze, cutting off oxygen.

No, this would not do.

"I said: GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" It was a shout as well as a snarl and the crazy glint in his angel's eyes was far from welcoming. Sephiroth gritted his teeth and gave the ties about his wrists a final tug, shattering what remained to inhibit his movement. His hands shot up and roughly, he shoved the smaller male off of him. Only vaguely aware of how strong Cloud had become over the past year (his accusations of illegal mako enhancements forgotten in the haze of combat), he found himself holding back…not wanting to harm his little angel…not yet. No this way.

Then again, if the blond liked it a touch rough, Sephiroth would be more than happy to oblige. Gentle was nice and pleasurable, but nothing compared the wild passion of heated rutting at the heat of the moment. The burn of the body. The cries of need. It was a perfect symphony that danced erotically at the corners of his mind.

With what could be called an animalistic grin, he rolled off the bed and leapt onto his feet. His prey was crouched nearby, breathing in short pants, one hand pressed against the place where Sephiroth had struck him.

"Cloud…" He dropped his voice into a sensual pitch. "Come here." Again, he searched for the pathway between their minds, and when he found it, he let his consciousness slither across it. Sephiroth felt their minds touch with a jolt and Cloud physically recoiled, his whole body trembling.

Then, the blond let out a pained hiss and unsheathed two daggers from the confines of his jacket. The metal gleamed wickedly as the boy lunged forwards, this time, with killing at the forefront of his mind. Mental walls, cracking under the pressure the silver General was dealing, suddenly burst and reformed, slamming around Cloud's mind and forcing Sephiroth's awareness back into his own body with a disorienting snap.

He blinked. Metal flashed. A small trickle of blood began to creep down one cheek; another scratch wept angrily over his left pectoral. His grin remained. Cloud was flustered by his own survival instinct and was lashing out blindly. Any other opponent would be panicked by a berserker assaulting them…not he, no, not when he himself was in total control.

Sephiroth, now free of all the spells that once slowed him, moved like a lightning strike, grabbing one of the blond's wrists and twisting a dagger free of his grip. As metal hit carpet, Cloud wrestled himself away and plunged the blade into the silver General's bicep. Well, he was aiming for his heart, but the larger male proved too quick.

However, it still hurt. A normal man might punch such a blade three or so inches into his flesh at the most. Cloud, in a display of SOLDIER strength, sank all six inches through Sephiroth's muscled arm before ripping it free in a spray of crimson. The silver General ground his teeth, ashamed by the fact that a man of lesser skill not only scratched him, but also seriously wounded him. While Mako could work wonders, it would still be a minute or two before his arm would be healed enough to use properly.

Undeterred, he reached out with his uninjured hand and knocked the knife from Cloud's quivering hands. The blond looked pale. His breathing was uneven. Stress and exhaustion was settling in and they both knew it. "Surrender." It was a command, to which Cloud gave a single, defiant reply. "Never."

000X000

Cloud felt detached. As if his spirit floated outside of his body. Too many times he had fought Sephiroth, and thrice he had slain the infamous one-winged angel. Before him stood the man in his prime, sane glory. His black-dyed mane slightly tousled; his mako-green eyes dilated. A small bead of scarlet made a river over pale skin, inching lower and lower, leaving a trail behind.

As the Dark Angel wrested from him his last weapon, the blond found himself unable to respond…only react. He dropped into a crouch, avoiding the silver General's assault by a hair, only to meet the next. Sephiroth's knee caught him in the gut and those strong hands latched onto his shoulders, fingers digging deep into tender flesh, hard enough to bruise.

But he felt no pain.

He only felt the drive to survive.

Struggling free, the hero of Gaia made a hasty retreat. Without a weapon, Sephiroth would easily immobilize if not kill him. Running was the best option at this point and the one he took. In a wild scramble backwards, Cloud managed to put some distance between them. Then he turned and hurried for the front door, wishing that he had taken his first opportunity to escape. Or better yet, never risked having to play this game in the first place by avoiding the man like the plague when he saw him in the garage.

"Where are you going, Cloud?" The silver-haired man called out from behind him before rushing forwards, eyes glowing with mako shine. There was a crazed edge to his voice and actions, as if he was not fully in control anymore. Was it possible that JENOVA was spreading her influence this early on? Was that how Sephiroth manage to rush across the link between their minds and assault his mental barriers? If so, then thrice would need to become four, in the number of times that the General fell at his hand. And Cloud was no longer sure if he could do it again. No…he was certain he could not.

Knowing he was too drained to cast another spell, the blond allowed what strength he had pool in his muscles. He let the strength Gaia gifted him with flow through his body and with it, he continued to run. Even at his fastest he was too slow, but there was a chance. There was always a chance…

Slamming against the door from sheer momentum, it took a moment to reorient himself and find the knob. But that moment was a moment he did not have. Sephiroth closed in and grabbed him, using his impressive strength to haul the blond off his feet like a child might an oversized doll.

Cloud let out a snarl and kicked, landing a nasty blow to the silver-haired man's knee. A slight hitch in his step was as much as Sephiroth seemed to be affected by the strike.

"Stop struggling," the Dark Angel crooned, his lips close to the blond's ear. "Let me take care of you, Cloud. Let me make all your dreams come true." Those lips pressed against Cloud's cheek briefly, and then teeth traced the shell of his ear. "I can make all the pain go away."

Not liking what he was hearing (for the sheer fact that the stoic General had dropped all semblance of his usual character), Cloud jerked away from Sephiroth's teasing lips before slamming the back of his skull against his captor's face. There was a sickening, almost satisfying crunch of bone, and the grip around his body loosened just enough for him to wriggle free.

And, as he began to run once more, there was a dark chuckle from the silver General.

'You can't escape me,' whispered Sephiroth at the outskirts of Cloud's mind. 'Come back. Relax. Let go of all the burdens you. Let me in.'

In. He wanted in? Cloud did not know why but he allowed it. He released the floodgates of his mind, causing image to flicker behind his own eyes…and his own world to sink again into oblivion.

000X000

Tifa sank to the ground beside Cloud; her usually unflappable strength had abandoned her. She could no longer stand upon trembling legs and her sable eyes were red from restrained tears.

"This is it then," she said, staring blankly up into the sky, the rainbow of sunset hues reflecting gray. "The final battle. Time to finish Sephiroth once and for all."

Cloud sighed, feeling guilty about his inability to comfort his friend. The brunette had become an invaluable ally in the previous months, having proven her evolution from spoilt child into a caring woman. It was because of her that he earned a place at AVALANCHE's side, even if he was but a paid-by-the-mission mercenary. And it was her that remained beside him during Mideel when he was so lost within himself that he was comatose. Without Tifa helping find his identity amongst the mako-painted chaos, it was likely he would have remained a vegetable, making incoherent sounds and drooling on his own chest.

"Cloud…?"

"Tifa." The blond shivered when his childhood friend pressed against him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, as if to never let go.

"I'm scared…" She confessed.

"That's okay…so am I." He admitted.

And from there they pondered aloud their fears and dreams, seeking comfort in the embrace of the only other person who understood their pain. The only other person who felt firsthand Sephiroth's wicked insanity. Night had fallen over the Northern Continent, bringing a hazy glow to their patch of green ground, before they both ceased to speak and reveled in the feel of skin.

It was only supposed to be a kiss.

But if they were going to die tomorrow—why leave it at that?

Suddenly, the months flew backwards…

Cradling Aerith's prone form in his arms, Cloud made a vow. A vow to never give up. To never cease the search for the madman who did this. Sephiroth may have been his idol at one point in time, but that man was gone, consumed by the lies of the company that created him.

Again, time seemed to retroverse.

Nibelheim was burning.

Then he was standing in the underground laboratory, watching Sephiroth read word after word of blasphemy.

Then he was an awkward Cadet, anxiously awaiting the next mission. It was in his hometown, and he had yet to make it into SOLDIER. What would everyone say? Would they taunt him? Would they make malicious jabs at his failure? Maybe if he wore his helmet the entire time. Then no one would recognize him. They would never know he was weak. Maybe next year he could go home a hero…

000X000

Sephiroth had no idea what he had done until it was too late.

He had allowed himself to falter, to listen to that voice inside his head instead of remaining resolute. He had fallen prey to his own foolishness and desire.

Now he was flooded with images and emotions that could have belonged to none other than Cloud Strife, the enigma. The boy with veteran eyes and a youth's body. The boy with a strange sensitivity to SOLDIERs due to the natural mako saturating his system. The boy with more than a few strange habits and a plethora of veiled secrets.

The boy that had left Midgar, as just that, a boy—and turned into a man.

A man with just as many secrets and the same mako and the same eyes. A man that was as just as much a mystery as the odd little Cadet that stumbled haphazardly into Sephiroth's life.

A man who was also his angel. His fantasy lover. His manic obsession.

But the events that shaped such a creature as Cloud Strife, the boy, the man and the angel, were stranger than even he could have imagined.

Almost instinctively, Sephiroth knew he was in the midst of Cloud's memories. The events swirled and shattered, brightened and faded, sometimes were loud and other times muted. He saw and heard a bizarre quest, of which his own death was the primary objective. But, he wondered, how that could be possible when another memory showed him a brief glimpse of a blond Cadet tossing him into a Mako reactor?

He tried to pull away, but Cloud wasn't letting him go. There was no escaping. He had to weather the storm until it was done.

And what a storm…

The images fluxed from backwards to forwards in sequence, leaping from one moment in time to another. Some events made to no sense when compared to others, as if it were an alternate ending to an already written story. Others made no sense whatsoever, leaving Sephiroth confused.

By the time everything slowed to a monochromatic haze, a trickle in relation to the flood he experience before, he had witnessed his death three times, watched three events that could have been assumed Cloud's own deaths (which were a portion of the events that made no sense), and a slew of other critical moments…milestones and turning points.

Numb from the experience, the silver General did not hear the motherly voice that haunted him begin to shriek in protest. All he heard or even felt was Cloud's dismissal from his mind, shoving the other male's consciousness from his own.

It was only after soft lips touched his own that he woke from his partial stupor.

Blinking his thoughts back into a vague sense of coherency, Sephiroth found himself unable to do more than breathe. At some point, standing had apparently become too difficult to manage because he was sprawled out on the floor, his dyed locks fanned out beneath him like a dark pool of ink-colored silk.

"Cloud?" He was uncertain if the words were audible or merely thought, but either way, the blond heard and nodded. Cloud looked strained, feverish and weak—but was obviously in better shape than himself. "What just…?" Again, the blond kissed him, stealing away the last of his coherency.

Exhaustion having since stolen away the last of their inhibitions and fight, neither thought to protest the gentle intimacy.

"You wouldn't understand," Cloud murmured against his lips without preamble a few minutes later. "No one can."

Sephiroth absorbed what he was being told, and finally allowed his words to echo his predominate thought, "Who are you?"

A knowing smile, faint and far from happy, quirked onto Cloud's lips.

"I'm not sure myself…who I am, is a patchwork of who I was and what I am must be."

"I saw…" His words trailed off.

"I know."

A frown furrowed between elegant brows,"Is it the truth?"

"My perception of the truth, yes."

"But it doesn't make sense."

"Not to an outsider, no."

"Let me in, then." Sephiroth repeated, but this time with curious sanity rather than with crazed brutality.

"How is it possible that you are taking this so calmly?"

"Who says I'm calm? I could be a frantic mess within and you would never know."

"Yes I would…"

Silence fell forcibly between them. It was a cold, unbreakable barrier at first glance. But they both knew that there would always be a crack in the infrastructure. A small little tunnel that kept them connected. That strung the other along no matter the circumstances. They were soul bound. They were the other's missing half. Fate had tied them together and through the meddling of men and beings beyond their understanding, Cloud and Sephiroth could never escape the fact.

In a way, Cloud would always be that fragile puppet dangling from Sephiroth's fingertips.

But Sephiroth was the same. A puppeteer without a marionette should the Planet's hero ever disappear from the equation.

They were each other's purpose.

As well as their weakness.

And sometimes, weakness if more powerful than strength. Because it is the weakness of love and compassion, of curiosity, impulse and lust, that tangled them up when hate existed no longer.

It is because of these weaknesses that Cloud yet again pressed his lips to that of his enemy, his Dark Angel. And it because of these weaknesses that Sephiroth found reason to lift one leaden arm to curl his fingers in blond hair, and deepen the exchange.

Raw. Honest. Pure.

Love.

Seeded in their hearts without permission and allowed to bloom too late.

It could have saved them the first time around.

But that day…that life was far in the past.

Sephiroth was far from concerned about the past.

"Let me in." Became his mantra. Neither man quite understood what the request entailed. Nor did they consider the consequences of stripping their defenses bare. All they knew was a sense of desperation. A desire for completion.

After so much hate and despair, Cloud was all too willing to comply.

He wanted to forget.

To once again revel in the feel of humanity.

A/N: (Review please! Ineraction between Sephy and Cloud will conclude next chapter, and the plotline will once again start rolling. Though I am curious how you guys think things will turn out now that three people know that Cloud's from the past, and a majority of the ShinRa military elite have been captured and/or killed. Reactions galore. Hehe. Thanks for reading and waiting so paitently for this chapter to come out!)