A/N:

Roche doesn't appear in this chapter, but since he's mentioned, I did want to share my thoughts on how he and Cloud met: So after failing the SOLDIER exam and joining the infantry (~15 years old), Cloud becomes acquainted with who Roche is (maybe Roche almost runs over one of his friends, idk). Anyway, Cloud gets pissed with how careless Roche is, so he challenges him to a race with the stipulation that if he wins, that Roche has to be more careful from then on. Roche agrees, not thinking anybody will be able to beat him, but Cloud wins (naturally), and Roche is instantly smitten (also naturally). As a side note, Zack is also around at the same time, becomes immediately intrigued by this adorable spit-fire and tries to get to know him. Cloud wants absolutely nothing to do with him or any of the other dumb SOLDIERs and avoids him until he and Zack end up on a mission together and bond over both being backwater boys.

"Hands where I can see them!" Tseng yells into the darkness, his gun trained on the mass in the center of the room. Normally, he wouldn't raise his voice like this, but with the element of surprise now lost to them, disorientation was the best strategy they had left. Unfortunately, his attempt falls short of the mark, the mass only grumbling at their intrusion and curling up further on the floor. "I said, hands where I can—"

Click.

Light floods the stables – "see… them…" – and Tseng trails off at the sight of the Chocobo blinking groggily up at him.

"…Kweh?"

He lowers his gun a fraction of an inch and spares a moment to be thankful that Aerith hadn't just witnessed him holding a Chocobo at gunpoint – she had enough ammunition against him as it was. But then reality sets in. He notices the impressive and familiarly-shaped sword propped against the wall, and realizes that they're not alone.

He just doesn't have the time to act.

"Shit! He's—!"

Thud.

Tseng spins around, every nerve in his body on high alert, but by then it's too late. He sees a flash of glowing mako blue and knows no more.

Cloud realizes now, as Tseng crumples to the floor of the stables, unconscious, that he had severely underestimated the Turks. But he hadn't expected them to catch up so quickly, not after he had so thoroughly covered his tracks. Hadn't given full thought to the lengths Tseng would go to to catch him unawares, the man trading out the easily discernible helicopter for something a little more discreet. But, perhaps his biggest slip-up yet, he hadn't realized just how long it would take to wiggle his way out from underneath Zack and hide in the rafters before the Turks stormed in (the bird was nothing but dead weight in his sleep).

Maybe Cloud had grown soft. Or maybe he had just gotten used to the Turks not hounding his ass 24/7 (aside from Reno, of course). Either way, he had completely forgotten what it was like to have Tseng view him as an enemy. Sure, he might not particularly care for the man, not after he had handed Aerith over to Hojo, but they had come to a mutual understanding, of sorts. A mutual reluctant acceptance to coexist together, to be more exact. Tseng kept his greetings short and to the point and Cloud kept his hands to himself. As simple as that.

But this – the Turks tracking him all this way to the stables, arriving by car to hide who they really were, and raising up a clamor when Elena had ruined their carefully crafted plot? All of it was glaring proof that they considered him a serious threat.

And he knows what they do to serious threats.

He'd have to be more vigilant.

For now, though, he roots through their pockets to make their interruption worth his while. Between Rude and Elena, he nets 2500 gil, an elixir, and two armbands – a tri-colored mix of titanium, gold, and bronze he knows offers some serious defense and a far more dainty-looking, but no less impressive blend of gold and onyx he'll save for one of the girls, if he ever sees them (the ruby in the center reminds him of Tifa's eyes). Tseng, on the other hand, is the boring one and only has a credit card, a PHS, and a set of car keys on him, none of which will help keep Cloud off the grid.

Lame.

Well, whatever, he thinks as he fits the tri-colored band onto his wrist and slings Tsurugi back into its harness – he had dilly-dallied long enough, as Tifa liked to tell him. He needed to get going. Collect Zack, slide the gil under the farmer's door (it should just about cover all of the Gysahl Greens Zack ate), and start the long trek to the Mythril Mine.

And then onto Junon.

First things first, though – he should find a suitable hiding spot for Tseng's car keys.

He might as well get some enjoyment out of all of this.

Of all the things Sephiroth planned to do that day – train, resist temptation, disregard Angeal's coaxing to 'just go talk to him already' and Genesis's taunting that Sephiroth was 'more of a coward' than he had actually realized – Sephiroth never would have expected his current problem to seek him out just as he was departing for that war council meeting. Never would have fathomed that the man would shove him back into his own apartment, the closing of the door behind him cutting off Sephiroth's only means of retreat.

"You've been avoiding me," his sunshine says, the frown on his face just as dazzling as his smile normally was.

And that was why Cloud needed to leave. Sephiroth wanted him too much. "Cloud, now's not the time – I have a meeting," he forces himself to say, his face miraculously blank, even with how every fiber of his being begs him to touch this man – his man.

He wouldn't be able to stop himself if he did.

"Oh? Is that so?" Cloud scowls up at him, furious. Sephiroth thinks he's radiant. "Well, how about you tell me where the fuck you've been for the past few weeks and then you can be on your merry way?"

It's impudence, plain and simple. And it's one of the innumerable things that Sephiroth loves about the man in front of him. For while the rest of the infantry saluted or trembled in his presence, Cloud always greeted him with "h-hi, Sephiroth", "you're ridiculous", or Sephiroth's personal favorite "stop saying you're a monster or I'm gonna kick your ass!"

And that was why Cloud shouldn't be here – he'd find out how much of a monster Sephiroth really was.

"I've been busy."

"Busy avoiding me, yeah, I've noticed," Cloud mocks. "What I wanna know is why."

It's for your own protection, he thinks. But in its place, he says, "I don't know what you're talking about," the lie like pitch on his tongue. He can't yield, though – if he gives Cloud even an inch, he knows the battle would be over before it had even started.

"So, you're saying it's just mere coincidence I haven't seen hide nor tail of you since I got your mark?"

Sephiroth had been… euphoric, he thinks Genesis would have phrased it, when Cloud's name had appeared on his wrist. Downright giddy, Zack probably would have called him. He had wanted Cloud for so long, that if he had been given the chance, he probably would have consummated their bond right then and there. And that was the crux of his problem. He wouldn't be able to stop himself if he got a taste, and Cloud would suffer as a result.

If he touched Cloud now, he'd only end up hurting him.

And Sephiroth would never forgive himself.

"Is that so hard to believe?" he equivocates instead, disregarding the robotic quality to his voice.

"I thought…" Cloud cuts himself off with a harsh laugh and drops his gaze to the floor. "You know what, nevermind." His arms shake by his side, and it's only Sephiroth's slowly dwindling restraint that keeps his body rooted in place. "Was it all a lie, then?"

"…Cloud?"

"Was it a lie?" Cloud yells, his head snapping back up, his expression soured.

And Sephiroth's first instinct is to make sure he hasn't hurt himself, but then he sees the tears in Cloud's eyes, and he forgets how to breathe. "Cloud…" He reaches out a hand, unable to hold himself back anymore.

But Cloud stumbles out the way. "You mean the world to me, Cloud," he sneers, using Sephiroth's words against him. "Gaia, you sure fooled me."

"No, I—"

"Or how about: Even if no mark shows up, there are plenty of people who would be happy to call you their soulmate." Cloud rolls his eyes, viciously. "Was that just pity, then? Poor little loser Cloud Strife will never get a mark. Better pretend that people might still want him."

"What? No! Of course not! I—!"

"If that's your fucked up sense of duty talking again, then save your breath! I release you from your debt!" Cloud spins on his heel and reaches for the door, the finality of it all shattering Sephiroth's world into a thousand pieces – he was about to lose Cloud for good.

So he does the only thing he can think of. He wraps his fingers around Cloud's bicep and begs. "You don't understa—"

Cloud slaps his hand away. "Don't touch me!"

"Please, Cloud! I meant everything that I said!" Sephiroth swears, his desperation unchecked.

"Then why the hell have you been avoiding me?!"

"Because I have no refractory period!"

.

.

.

"You…" Cloud blinks, in a manner Sephiroth would normally find adorable, but that he now sees as his only chance to fix everything. "What?"

"I've… I've wanted you since you were 16, Cloud," Sephiroth pleads, his shoulders hunched and his body tingling uncomfortably. "I've spent the last two years fantasizing as to what you would taste like. Imagining what it would look like to have you writhing beneath me. Yearning to take you over and over and over again until the only thing you would be able to remember would be my name." Sephiroth doesn't normally babble, it's not befitting of a General, but he can't stop himself now. Not even with the disgust so clear in Cloud's eyes (it couldn't be hope he sees there). "I've only been able to restrain myself this long because I was certain you would never be paired with somebody like me – you're far too pure for that. But now… If I touch you now, I'll lose control for sure. And I… I don't want to hurt you."

"You're saying…" Cloud sounds out the words carefully, incredulously, the slight tremor in his voice the only proof of just how horrified he must be. "You're saying that you've been avoiding me because all you want to do is have marathon sex with me?" Sephiroth doesn't say anything, can't say anything. And that's the only confirmation Cloud needs. "You idiot." He huffs out a disbelieving laugh, and Sephiroth is stunned to hear no bite in his tone.

"Cloud…?"

"You damn idiot," he repeats, closing the distance between them and tugging Sephiroth down by his harness straps. Sephiroth follows limply. "I won't break that easily, so don't you dare hold back on my account."

Sephiroth nearly surrenders himself, body and soul, at the unspoken permission. But he struggles to maintain his resolve, even as he dips his head closer, his lips eager to claim Cloud's. "Cloud… I…"

"You owe me."

A wave crashes, and Cloud returns to the sea foam from whence he came. The ocean roils, and Sephiroth finds himself alone again, whispering "Yes, Cloud…" to the water that reminds him so terribly of Cloud's once-vibrant eyes.

Sephiroth sighs and leans further against the railing of Junon's docks. He had never made it to his meeting that day, not when he had wrapped himself quite possessively around Cloud's lithe frame.

Genesis hadn't been impressed. Not at first. He had swept into Sephiroth's apartment, a grievance already falling from his lips – "Is the great General Sephiroth too good for us mere mortals?" – only to halt in his tracks at the sight of Sephiroth and Cloud still joined together as one. His eyes had darkened, his frown twisting into a sensuous smirk, and then he had reclined himself against Sephiroth's mahogany desk, in full view of their carnal activities, with all the grace and intent of a Couerl studying its prey. "She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting," he had quoted, the lust evident in his voice. "Please, do continue. I'm quite enjoying the show."

What Sephiroth wouldn't give to return to that day. To any of the days when they were still happy, still whole, still together.

But now? Now, they were all broken. Shells of their former selves. Just waiting for another of their number to die and leave the rest of them behind.

Sephiroth had thought it would be Genesis, who certainly had the sickness to match. But even though he had prepared himself for that inevitability, had considered the potential of returning home from Nibelheim only to find one more of their mates gone, he knows now that he could never truly be prepared. Could never fully control his body's reaction to seeing Genesis's mark fade right before his very eyes.

He had been utterly terrified. Had clammed up, his eyes never leaving the elegant cursive of Genesis's name on his skin. But perhaps it had all been a fluke. Zack hadn't seemed to notice, nor had Angeal mentioned anything when they spoke last night – "Gen's doing well," he had said. So maybe everything was ok. Maybe Sephiroth was worrying for naught. Genesis's mark was dark again, darker now, he thinks, than it's been in years.

So, maybe he wouldn't have to say goodbye again so soon.

"Brooding again, are we Sephiroth?"

He wasn't expecting the interruption, wasn't ready for it, but he refuses to let his surprise show. "Ms. Gainsborough," he returns automatically, though his eyes remain fixed on the rising sun – something else that reminds him of Cloud.

"Really, Sephiroth," Ms. Gainsborough chides, good-naturedly. "How many times have I told you to call me Aer-ith?"

That's not appropriate. You're the soulmate of my employer. He considers reminding her. But they had already had this conversation several times now. And he had lost then, too.

Every.

Single.

Time.

"As you wish… Aerith," he says, instead.

"Now then, was that so hard?" she teases, finishing off with something that sounds rather like 'silly SOLDIER-boy' as she drapes her arms delicately over the railing next to him. "And don't think I haven't noticed that you never answered my question."

Sephiroth's not in the mood to answer, not in the mood to do much of anything, not with how empty he feels inside, but he knows that that wouldn't be enough to stop her. So, he says, "I'm not brooding," and hopes that she'll leave it at that.

She doesn't.

"No?" she hums, the lilt to her voice evidence enough that he's not about to get off easy. "Avoiding your brother then?"

Sephiroth doesn't sigh, no matter how tempting it is. "Kadaj is an adult," he says, the words even if he doesn't act like one left unspoken between the two of them. "He doesn't need a chaperone." If he did, then the President shouldn't have brought him along as one of his personal guards.

"Oh?" Aerith drawls, her mirth not restrained in any way. "Is that why he and Zack are planning a Behemoth-killing spree to decide which one of them loved Cloud the most?"

Sephiroth wishes he could say that that doesn't sound like Zack.

But it does.

He stalls anyway – was 10 minutes of peace really too much to ask for? 10 minutes without having to worry about immature brothers, looming wars, or sick soulmates. Just him, the ocean, and his memories of a happier time. "I cannot control what the two of them do when they're off the clock."

Aerith raises an eyebrow, and he already knows he's not going to like what she has to say. "Bare-handed."

"…I'll have a word with them later."

In hindsight, Cloud probably should have spent a little longer in Midgar looking for some way to cross the ocean (without stealing a helicopter, of course – he had painted enough of a target on his back just by existing). But no, he had followed the same path he had when he was chasing Sephiroth the first time around. Quite subconsciously, honestly. Hadn't even spared a thought to whether Midgar even had docks – if it did, he certainly doesn't remember (can he get a 'fuck Hojo'?).

But how was he supposed to know that there would be troopers in the mines? That things would be so bad that Shinra would have set up some sort of monster-culling camp here?

It was just his luck.

Cloud sighs and peers around the scaffolding he and Zack are currently hiding behind. Sure, he could trample his way through – it's not like these troopers would be able to stop him – but he knows better than that. Vincent had taught him better than that. Any sighting of him would make it back to the Turks faster than he could say 'Shinra sucks'. And if he was just going to offer up his whereabouts to Tseng on a golden platter, then he should have just stolen that car in the first place.

At least then he could have gotten to Junon faster.

But no. The Turks will track him to Junon eventually, he knows that much (they're that good, he'll begrudgingly admit). But he's not about to make their job easy for them. Nor is he about to make the other Cloud's life more difficult – out of all the people in this world who would recognize his resemblance to his younger counterpart, troopers were rather high on that list.

So, he hides in the shadows instead. Surveys the chamber he needs to pass through and everything in it. Crates of Shinra-issued equipment, a broken Sweeper, and a large pile of discarded ore should all provide adequate coverage for him and Zack, so long as they keep an eye out for the men in the cavern there with them. 4 of the 8 doze quite soundly in their bedrolls, but it's the other 4, chatting away and eating in the center, that give Cloud pause. They'd have to be rather careful about this.

It's a good thing Barret wasn't there, then.

…Even though Cloud will miss the great big bear of a man. More than he cares to admit.

But miss him or not, it's Barret Cloud thinks of as he calculates their way through. It's everything Barret would have done that Cloud very specifically does not do. Where Barret would have grumbled and complained, Cloud ensures that every breath, every step, every gesture Zack's way is absolutely silent. And where Barret would have charged in, head first, foregoing any semblance of stealth, Cloud refuses to move until the troopers are otherwise distracted – in this case, when 1 of the 4 (a young man with blond hair) tries to laugh at his comrade's story, only to end up choking on his MRE instead.

"Watch it, Klein!" one of others shouts, and Cloud takes the opportunity to slip around the makeshift barrier at the entrance of the chamber and nestle himself behind the first crate of equipment, guiding Zack into place beside him. "I don't wanna be the one that has to tell that soulmate of yours you choked to death on some poorly seasoned mystery meat!"

Cloud ignores them. Focuses instead on the fact that while Zack hasn't made a peep and is doing his best to be as small and inconspicuous as possible, he's still a full-grown Chocobo. Meaning Cloud barely fits behind the crate with him.

They'd have to split up from here on out.

And Cloud prepares to do just that. Motions for Zack to stay put and everything – "R-Roche… Roche isn't my soulmate" – and nearly trips over his own feet at the subject of the troopers' conversation – Roche? "You know neither one of us has any marks."

"Then why did that idiot get your name tattooed across his wrist?"

Cloud can't help himself. His curiosity wins out and he finds himself peering over the top of the crate to get a better look. He hadn't actually planned on hitting up Roche again – the man was too obnoxious for his liking – but that doesn't mean he's not surprised to hear that Roche has his eye on somebody else. And a trooper at that. Sure, the one in question isn't bad-looking, but Cloud thought Roche ran over troopers for fun.

"Wh… What?" the blond stammers, his voice a mix of skepticism and hope. And Cloud guesses he understands. He had heard enough about 'soulmates' and these marks that appear on a person's skin to recognize the significance of what Roche had done. He just can't fathom why anybody would want to be compared to a motorcycle 24/7. "That… That's not funny, Ford."

"Tell that to Valdez," Ford says. "He's the poor sod who ran into Roche at the tattoo parlor. Said the idiot had to practically strong-arm the workers there into letting him get it done."

"H-He—"

"I don't know what you see in that dumbass," a third trooper growls, drowning the blond out.

But it's the fourth that snickers. "I betcha it's that big—"

"Torres," Ford warns.

"—mouth of his." Torres snickers again. "Don't need to be such a prude, Ford."

Cloud might have stayed like that forever – crouched behind that crate, listening to the troopers' entire conversation – if not for a sharp poke to his side. A poke that draws his attention away from the troopers in the center of the room and back to Zack who had clearly grown tired of this whole waiting game.

Oh.

Right.

They don't have time for this. There were more important things to worry about – Sephiroth, Jenova, Nibelheim – certainly more important things than Cloud's dwindling sex life. They couldn't afford to just sit around here, waiting for the Turks to show up. Waiting for Sephiroth to burn Nibelheim to the ground again.

They had to keep moving.

"No, no, no…" the blond says, but Cloud doesn't wait around this time. He motions for Zack to stay put again and then creeps quietly across the floor, past the broken Sweeper, and behind a second crate of equipment. "Roche… He… He's still in love with C—"

"Yes, we get it," Torres groans, but Cloud focuses on Zack instead, who's still hiding awkwardly behind that first crate of equipment. Still waiting quietly for Cloud's cue. Obviously, that time spent teaching him simple commands had really paid off. "SOLDIER-boy used to have the hots for your best friend. But guess what?" Cloud waves Zack over, only stopping the bird once everything but his tail feathers are hidden by the broken Sweeper. "Short-stack isn't here anymore—"

"Torres!"

"—and now you're the one Roche can't keep his hands off of. Honestly, it's kinda gross."

With how distracted these troopers are, Cloud probably could have paraded in front of them like Rufus had in Junon. He doesn't chance it, though. He slides silently behind the pillar of discarded ore and beckons Zack forward until the bird is crouched behind the second crate of equipment.

Perhaps this might work out after all.

Perhaps he'd buy Zack a barrel-full of Gysahl Greens later for being such a good boy.

"But I can't even drive a motorcycle that well," the blond complains, just as Cloud slips out of the chamber and into the corridor beyond.

So far, so good.

"Ha," Torres laughs. "I've seen the way that idiot stares at your ass. Believe me, he's not worried about your driving skills."

Surprising for Roche, Cloud allows himself a moment to think, but is interrupted by another growl. "God. This is so stupid." He peeks around the corner and is relieved to find the trooper who had complained earlier stomping off in the opposite direction of where Cloud and Zack both are. So relieved, that he turns back to Zack and waves him the rest of the way over, marveling at the speed with which the bird moves.

"Oi, Roberts! Don't go wandering off on your own!"

"I don't need a fuckin' babysitter, Ford!"

But Cloud doesn't care about their conversation anymore. He takes a step away from the chamber and pats Zack on the head for a job well done. "Good boy," he whispers.

And promptly slaps a hand over Zack's beak when the bird chirps happily in response – "Kweh!"

"Shhh!" he hisses, raising a finger to his mouth.

"Did you hear that?"

"Nice try, Torres, but I'm not gonna fall for that one again!"

"No, I swear I just heard a Chocobo!"

"…A Chocobo in the mines? Really? You're losing your touch, man."

"Really, I swear—!"

"Careful or we're going to start calling you The Trooper Who Cried Chocobo."

"You wouldn't…"

"Wanna bet?"

"Shit! Rude! 'Lena! Boss!"

For the first time in Tseng's life, he can't believe that he still has the ability to open his eyes. He just hadn't anticipated that he would wake up, that he would survive that disastrously one-sided encounter with their target. But, perhaps more shamefully so, he hadn't anticipated that he would be found face down on the floor of the stables, an adventurous chick making a nest out of his previously well-groomed hair.

But as terribly inappropriate of a position as it was for him to be found in, he had still substantiated the majority of the claims made in the past 24 hours. Specifically, that this man was very clearly enhanced, exceedingly skilled, and in the possession of a rather intriguing weapon.

They had quite the game of cat and mouse ahead of them.

"What happened, yo?"

Tseng rises from the floor with unusual difficulty, the drowsy chick cradled delicately in the palm of his hands. "Mr. Fair did not take kindly to our interruption," he offers in response, already scanning the stables for the chick's mother.

"But how did—Wait, what's with the chick?" Reno asks, his arms around Elena as she struggles to stand.

"That's not important, Reno. We still have a threat to contain," Tseng says, coming to a stop in front of the appropriate pen. The chick makes a sleepy and high-pitched "kweehhhh…." as it's reunited with its mother – a sound Tseng knows would have melted Aerith's heart. But Tseng doesn't have a heart to melt, not anymore, so he just smooths out his suit and hair and verifies that Rude appears to be just as unaffected by their brush with danger as he and Elena are. Good. "Now, tell me, did you learn anything?"

"Ehh…" Reno groans, and Tseng already knows the answer is a 'no'. "It was a total bust, Boss-man. They complained about you for a hot minute, but then all they did was play board games. And that was after that Walker-dude bawled his eyes out cause he got sent to jail in Makonopoly! Talk about pathetic, yo."

"I see," Tseng says, acknowledging Reno's words. It was unfortunate, but not terribly surprising. Either Walker really didn't know anything or Mrs. Gray was as shrewd as Tseng was beginning to think she was.

Tseng knows where he'd place his money.

"Why aren't we dead, though?" Elena asks, the woman holding a hand to her undoubtedly bruised head.

"Presumably, this man doesn't see us as real threats." It's an answer none of them cares for, as accurate as it probably is, but Tseng busies himself with ensuring that everything that was on his person a few hours ago is all present and accounted for. His PHS is still in his pocket and doesn't appear to have been tampered with. His wallet and, even more surprising, his credit card are all in order – though, perhaps their target (correctly) presumed that they would be able to track him with it. However, it's his cars keys that have gone missing, replaced instead with a folded piece of paper he knows for a fact was not there this morning.

"Sir?" Rude asks.

"If you're looking for the keys to your car, just know they haven't traveled very far," Tseng reads for them all to hear, inspecting the note as he goes along.

There was no doubt about it – that was Cloud Strife's handwriting.

But he doesn't do anything with that revelation just yet. He returns the note to his pocket and readies himself to roll up his sleeves, metaphorically, and assist in the search.

But his help is not needed.

"Gross, yo. I'm not touchin' that."

"Uh… sir," Rude adds, uncharacteristically uncomfortable. "We found the keys."

Tseng follows their line of sight and sighs when he sees the end of the key fob sticking out from a relatively fresh pat of Chocobo droppings – this isn't what he meant when he said he was willing to get his hands dirty.

Five minutes pass in silence. Or at least, Lukas passes them in silence, idly thumbing the hem of the glove on his right hand. He should have ended this… this acquaintances-with-benefits fling a long time ago. But every time he had tried to cut things off, he'd get lost in Roche's arms again, in the feel of their bodies joined together, and in the heat of Roche's breath against his ear – "Would ya listen to that engine purr." And he'd fall back into the habit, promising himself he'd be stronger tomorrow.

But tomorrow never came.

It wasn't all Roche's fault, though. Lukas had taken advantage, he knows now. Had gotten them both addicted to whatever the hell this thing was. A thing that Lukas was still trying to convince himself was a functioning relationship. But Roche had looked so empty and Lukas… well, he had been so desperate to fill the void Cloud had left behind… or perhaps just to have somebody look at him the way Roche had Cloud, that he had given into temptation. "Pretend I'm Cloud," he had said. Had practically begged. He had just never expected Roche to agree, to go along with it so enthusiastically, though perhaps Lukas's blond hair had made the fantasy that much easier to swallow.

He wasn't supposed to have fallen for Roche, though. Wasn't supposed to have enjoyed their dalliances so much that every whisper, every grunt, every shout of "my friend" had burned like a dagger to the heart. Cause while Roche hardly ever mentioned Cloud these days, Lukas knows the truth. Knows that he's not the one who had beaten Roche in a motorcycle race. He's not the one Roche really wants ("my friend" was proof of that). And that was what stung the worst – for while he would do anything to see Cloud alive again, to hear him laugh, to just have his friend back… he doesn't know if he could handle being on the sidelines again.

It would break him.

And perhaps that was a sign he really should tell Roche they were through. Before he could fall any further.

"Alright, that's it," Ford drags him from his thoughts – had Roche really tattooed Lukas's name across his wrist? "I'm going after him."

"Leave him be," Torres says. "He's just jealous."

And that – that catches Lukas's attention. "But Roberts hates Roche."

"That's why he's jealous, duh."

"…Wait, what?"

Torres sighs. "It's a good thing you're cute, Klein."

The hell, man? Shut up! I'm not cute! That's what he wants to say. He just never gets the chance. Not when a blood-curdling scream fills the air.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH—!"

"Shit!" Ford, always the bravest of them, is the first to react, the man jumping to his feet and kicking their still slumbering comrades awake. "Rise n' shine, boys! Nap time's over!" And he takes one final look at Lukas – "The hell are you waiting for, Klein! Get your ass in gear!" – and is off like a shot, Torres hot on his heels.

Lukas doesn't need to be told twice. He slings his rifle over his shoulder (with slightly fumbling hands, but hadn't they already cleared the mine of monsters?) and races off after them, no thought spared for the rest of their company.

"Roberts!" Ford calls from ahead. "Where are you?"

A beat of silence and Torres adds, "Answer us, Roberts!"

But no answer comes. Not until they round the bend and find the horror waiting for them. Find the dragon towering in Roberts's place, the only thing left of Roberts the scraps of his uniform strewn at the monster's feet.

ROAR!

"DRAGON!"

Cloud hadn't thought that their little detour would pay off. Hadn't thought that there would be anything left to take. But the mako spring is just as he remembers it. The same glowing (and almost glittering) pond of raw mako, untainted by Shinra's influence. The same crystallized altar. But, most importantly for Cloud (and the entire reason he had come all this way), the same orb of materia enshrined in the center.

The smell of mint is strong, he'll admit, but Cloud knows from past experience that if he just doesn't focus on it, then his ears won't ring with nonexistent cackling. His wrists won't chafe from long-gone shackles.

You're safe here, he reminds himself and crosses over to the altar, the landscape in front of him changing with each step.

A conch house.

Aerith, praying.

Blood… so much blood.

"Because you are… a puppet."

Cloud blinks the tears away and wraps his hand around the materia in front of him. He wouldn't fail her this time.

Wouldn't fail any of them.

"Mythril Ops, this is Cactuar 5!" Ford yells into his communicator, his voice audible over the sound of Lukas's and Torres's rifles. But it doesn't matter. It's too late. The dragon lunges and their pleas go unanswered.

"Shit!"

"Watch out!" Lukas warns and dives to the right, the dragon's claws narrowly missing his face. But when he pushes himself back to his feet, he sees that they've been separated, each one of them taking up a point of the triangle that is the massive dragon in front of them.

This was bad.

This was really bad.

"Dammit!" Ford swears and raises his gun, foregoing all attempts to call for help. "Where are the others? We don't have time for this shit!" And he fires a volley into the dragon's side.

Something that only serves to anger the beast more.

"The hell you doing, man?" Torres cries as they dodge another attack. "That wasn't part of the plan!"

"But—!"

"No buts! Me and Klein got this!"

It's false bravado, really. Lukas knows this. Torres does, too, if the tremor in his voice is anything to go by. But Lukas doesn't bring it up. Doesn't do anything that might shatter the shakily acquired courage they were still relying on. "Damn straight!" he shouts instead, willing himself to believe they really do got this. "We don't need your help lightin' this bitch up!"

"That's what I'm talkin' about, Klein!" Torres crows and ducks out of the way of the barbed tail aimed for his head, his laughter higher-pitched than usual. "C'mon, show me what you've got!"

But Lukas doesn't get a chance to show him what he's got.

The dragon does.

The dragon that spins back around unexpectedly, its rampage not finished, and catches an unprepared Torres in the ribs. The one that uses all of its weight and momentum to send Torres flying, his back connecting, hard, with the rock wall on the other side of the room.

"Torres!" one of them shouts. Ford, probably – Lukas is too distracted by the crack he's sure he heard and the image of Torres crumpling, motionless, to the ground below.

Too terrified.

This wasn't part of their plan, either. He and Torres were supposed to distract the dragon while Ford radioed for backup. Supposed to stay alive long enough for reinforcements to arrive. But how would they avenge Roberts now? How was Lukas supposed to distract a dragon all by himself? What good would he be? He wasn't cool or confident. Wasn't strong. Not like a SOLDIER. Not like Roche.

They were all going to die.

"Take that!" Ford still fights back. Still tries to light the dragon up in Lukas's place. But it's no use. The dragon doesn't care, doesn't notice, doesn't turn its attention away from the sight of its prey.

Torres! Lukas wants to shout, wants to beg his friend to get up, dammit! But his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth, his feet to the floor.

Was this all he was good for, then? To watch, horrified, as the dragon advanced slowly, steadily on Torres's crumpled form? To wait, frozen, for the beast to do to them what it had to Roberts? What it was about to do to Torres?

No wonder he had never made SOLDIER.

"Torres! Get up!" Ford speaks for him again, jumping in front of their fallen comrade as Lukas takes an involuntary step backwards.

They were going to die.

They were all going to die.

"Too quick for the eye, you cross him, you die!"

But the moment Lukas's foot touches the ground again, something changes. Something inside him clicks. He sees Roche standing there, ankle-deep in that marsh, laughing at the sight of the Zoloms surrounding them – "Stand back, my friend! I'd hate to see you get swept up in this dance, too!"

That's right.

Roche wouldn't give up so easily. Wouldn't run away at the first sign of defeat. He'd savor the rush, revel in the thrill it all brought, even if it meant that his offer to show Lukas how to become one with his motorcycle had ended with the man battered and bruised (but still smiling) in the hospital – "Don't be silly! It'll take more than broken ribs to do me in!"

Roche was a hero.

And Lukas wanted to be one, too.

It's impulse, really. It's the image of Roche behind his eyelids. The (burning) desire to be better. It's all of the above that has Lukas snatching up a rock and hurling it at the dragon before the beast has a chance to decide whether Ford would taste better well-done or medium-rare. "Hey, ugly! I'm not done dancing with you!" Lukas yells, the words not his own. "We haven't pushed it past the redline yet!"

It's not the best imitation, he'll admit (he had never been any good at impersonations), but it's enough to convince the dragon to abandon its dinner and stomp back around, fury carved throughout its entire maw.

And Lukas? Lukas doesn't give himself time to decide whether this was the best idea or not. "Our dance won't end until one of our flames is extinguished forever!" he shouts, the heat of Roche's smile, his laughter, his never-ending confidence warming Lukas to the core. Making it so he could finally pull himself free of his frozen stupor and open fire on the dragon once more. "Burn for me!"

ROAR!

"What the fuck, Klein?"

The confusion and disgust are easily recognizable in Ford's voice, but it doesn't matter right now. There were more important things to worry about. "Call for help!" he yells back, watching, determined, as the dragon charges his way.

"But—!"

"Do it, Ford, or we all die!"

One, two, three seconds pass and then the dragon is upon him, swiping out with its massive paw to silence him once and for all. It doesn't work, though. Lukas ducks and side-steps the claws just as Roche had shown him (their spars usually devolved sooner or later into wrestling of a more primal form, but Lukas had still learned a thing or two along the way).

"Mythril Ops, this is Cactuar 5!" Ford finally calls into his communicator as Lukas dances out of the way of the dragon's bared teeth. "Dragon in quadrant 2! We need backup now!" Another swipe of the dragon's paw, but Lukas dodges it just as easily. "I repeat, this is Cactuar 5 requesting immediate backup! Dragon in quadrant 2!"

Dodge left, lunge right, roll under the barbed tail. Like Roche, Lukas imagines he could go all night, and not even Ford's argument with command would be enough to stop him – "Whaddya mean how's there a dragon in the mines? I'm lookin' the fucker in the face!" But then he hears the rushed footsteps, the shouts, the alarmed voices of their formerly sleeping comrades, and he makes a rookie mistake.

He looks.

"Watch out!" one of them yells, but there's no recovering from his mistake. The dragon hits its mark this time, and Lukas is sent crashing to the floor.

"Kle—!"

Tseng had been outplayed, he'll admit.

Thoroughly outplayed.

He had arrived at the stables with the expectation that he would be 10 steps ahead of their opponent. And while that notion had been promptly contested when the only thing he had managed to secure was an unplanned nap on the stable floor and a set of stool-covered car keys, he had still prevailed. Had still presumed that they were more than enough for this shadowy foe of theirs, just as long as they didn't underestimate him again.

But that, in and of itself, was underestimating him.

The car keys weren't the main event. They weren't revenge for waking this man up. Not entirely. They were just a diversion. A way to ensure that Tseng would waste valuable time before discovering the truth. Before realizing that this man had removed the entire engine of their car and disposed of it only Gaia-knows-where.

If Tseng didn't know any better, he would be convinced that this man had been trained as a Turk.

And that presented a rather interesting problem. This man was as strong as a SOLDIER and as cunning as a Turk. He was no ordinary foe.

Perhaps it was time they notified the 1sts after all.

But first, it was past time for him to report in.

"You're late." Per usual, Rufus shows his concern not through what he says, but rather through what he doesn't – I was worried.

"My apologies, sir." I didn't mean to worry you."The target heard us coming."

"Hm. You're normally better than that." Was he stronger than anticipated?

"I know, sir. I was… under-prepared." More so than you know."I will accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate."

Rufus pauses, hums thoughtfully, and a shiver of desire goes down Tseng's spine. He can already feel the jute wrapped around his body, holding him open, holding him vulnerable for the man on the other end of the line.

He wants.

"We can discuss that later." The promise hangs like candy in the air, and Tseng wonders if Rufus will allow Aerith to join them – she was rather creative in her punishments. "But you haven't mentioned yet whether everything has been taken care of." Is the target in your custody?

"Unfortunately, no." He got away."We experienced a few, uh, minor inconveniences."

The hesitation is slight. Not nearly enough to give away his trials with the Chocobo droppings or the setback with the missing engine. But Tseng knows Rufus. And he knows it'll only be a matter of time before he finds out everything. Either from Tseng's own lips or by weaponizing Aerith against him.

"Oh?" Rufus drawls, his voice dripping with intent, and Tseng knows he'll be tied up all night. (His body aches for it.) "Do enlighten me." What happened?

"The target was hiding in the rafters when we came in, sir. By the time we realized we weren't alone, it was already too late. He knocked us out, stole some of our belongings, and then fled."

"Any injuries?" Rufus asks, abandoning their little game.

"Aside from a few aches, no, sir. None."

"Hm… And this man is headed for Junon now?"

"Presumably, yes."

"Good. I'd like to meet this Sky Fair."

"—n!"

—p!

"K—n!"

—p! Pop! Pop!

"K—n! W—k—p!"

It's not the strange noises or the muted pops, like firecrackers going off in a fishbowl, that do it for Lukas. But rather the heat burning through his side, burning from the inside out, and the inability to crawl back into the fuzzy void he was in a moment ago that convinces him to peel his eyes open.

Black ebbs and flows in his vision, as if a veil was being lowered and lifted from in front of his eyes, but it's the shadowy mass behind the veil that gives him pause. The mass that flails about, swatting through the sparks and smoke surrounding it.

Had he fallen asleep watching Mogzilla again?

Pop! Pop! P—ng!

"Hur—the f—k up, F—d!"

"I'm tr—ng!"

Hands grapple with his body, a head enters his vision, and, with it, a voice finally breaks through the ringing in his ears. "Time to go, Klein!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"But… I wanna… wanna finish the movie…"

"Movie? What the fuck are you talking about, Klein? We gotta go!"

"No… get off…" he complains, trying to shrug off the hands on him. But the moment he moves, his mind goes blank, white-hot pain canceling everything else out.

He's not sure how long the agony lasts – 10 seconds, 10 minutes, 10 hours – his body threatening to fall apart at the seams. All he knows is that once the inferno inside him starts to wane, his awareness returns to him piece by singed piece.

First, it's the strange sensation of floating through the air, something solid vibrating underneath his chest. Then, it's the feeling of disembodied hands on his arm and leg, something wet running down his face, and a raw prickling in his throat, like he had been screaming for an eternity – not as disconcerting as the throbbing every-fucking-where, but weird nonetheless.

Pop! P—ng! Bang!

ROAR!

His hearing comes next, along with an inexplicable sense of foreboding. Was he forgetting something?

"FIRE!"

"Shit!" A familiar-sounding voice shouts in his ear, the vibration under his chest increasing in intensity. "Almost there!"

His vision returns last – partially because he hadn't realized he had shut his eyes – but he'll admit he is quite fascinated by what he sees. Mogzilla rears its head back, clearly preparing for its signature Mako Breath attack. And while the green hide and lack of glowing spine are quite the deviation from the norm, he can't deny that these graphics are insane. It all looks so real. Especially the smoke rising from Mogzilla's mouth and the reddish-orange glow as it finally—

"WARK!"

The vibration stops as a new character enters the scene – a tiny Chocobo (compared to Mogzilla) that charges its way over, wings flapping, and kicks Mogzilla several times in quick succession.

"Where'd the Chocobo come from?" somebody yells, but Lukas is far too engrossed to care – he'd never heard of Chocobo vs. Mogzilla before.

And he'd fallen asleep during it.

What kinda fan was he?

ROAR!

True to its nature, Mogzilla's confusion doesn't last long, the monster releasing another fearsome roar before turning its ire to the newest (and smallest) addition to the screen. But instead of unleashing Chocobo Rush, Stampede, or any of the other finishing moves Lukas thinks it should have, the protagonist does something entirely unexpected.

It whimpers – "Kwehhh…" – and curls in on itself.

If it's meant to be a distraction, Mogzilla doesn't fall for it. No, the monster growls, its mouth glowing red-orange again, and—

Crackle!

—and, all of a sudden, a hunk of ice welds its maw shut.

"No way…" somebody breathes, and Lukas waits with bated breath.

His reward comes soon enough. Comes in the form of the newcomer rushing onto stage. The SOLDIER – the real protagonist? – who slips into a Limit Break between one step and the next, and cleaves Mogzilla in two with absolutely no effort whatsoever.

So cool.

He's so enthralled, so fixated on the fact that they had actually made a SOLDIER vs Mogzilla movie (and that the main character didn't look anything like the Elites… aside from the sword, maybe), that it takes him several seconds to realize why the SOLDIER's hair looks so painfully familiar.

When he does, he can't help himself.

"…Cloud?" he asks, the word falling from his lips even though the actor wouldn't be able to hear him.

But the man still pauses, his hand hovering over the Chocobo's head, hovering there for a second, before he sighs. "Before you ask," he says, and Lukas hangs on every word spoken in that terribly missed voice. "No, I'm not who you think I am. No relation."

"Yeah…" Lukas concedes, closing his eyes so he doesn't have to see this apparition anymore. "Cloud's…" dead, he means to say, but it just hurts too much. "He's… in Nibelheim… and you… you're in the TV."

Perhaps if he doesn't say anything, he'll find out it's not actually true.

In the end, Sephiroth only gets four minutes and thirty-two seconds to wallow in silent misery before Aerith tires of his 'brooding', as she had called it. "You know, I miss them too," she says and knocks her shoulder into his side – a show of support, he had come to learn (she always could read him frighteningly well). "Tifa and I, we were planning to have this big beach extravaganza in Costa del Sol before it happened… I didn't even get the chance to show her my new swimsuit…"

"Oh…" is all Sephiroth can manage, even though he would do anything to bring that smile back to Aerith's face. To rid her of the same melancholy that had overcome him. Because even though she wasn't one of his soulmates, she was one of the most important people in his life. She made him feel human, when Cloud no longer could. When he dare not ask it of the others – their relationship was strained enough as it was, Sephiroth couldn't bring his self-doubt into the mix.

"Sephiroth…?"

"Hmm?"

"Not that I mind or anything, but you do realize you're holding my hand, right?"

Sephiroth looks at their joined hands in shock – he had just been thinking that Zack used to do this when Cloud was upset, but he hadn't realized that his body had moved on its own. It was terribly presumptuous now, and something he should undoubtedly apologize for, but he finds himself asking instead, "Is this not the right way to comfort somebody?", even as he tries to extricate his hand from her grip.

But Aerith clings tighter, clutching his hand to her chest. "Nuh-uh, this is mine now."

It would be a simple matter to break free, Sephiroth knows, but he would never hurt her.

"But who would have thought that the great General Sephiroth was such a softie."

Even though she teases him so.

"Don't tell Genesis," he responds, dryly. "He'd never let me live it down." It had taken some time, but he had finally learned how to play along. Even if his delivery was always far more stilted and serious than hers.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen!" she mocks, with a grand flourish, and dissolves into a set of giggles.

Had he actually succeeded in cheering her up then?

"You two look like you're having fun."

Aerith spins around, delighted, her hand still entwined with his. "Zack! Hi!"

But Zack doesn't return the greeting. He glances at their joined hands and cocks his head to the side. "You're not trying to steal my man, are you, Aerith?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Zackary," Sephiroth answers in her stead. "You know that there's nothing going on between Ms. Gainsborough and myself."

Aerith gasps, offended, and Sephiroth prepares himself for another scolding for not calling her 'Aerith'.

It's much worse.

"You mean you don't feel the connection?" she asks, genuinely surprised.

And Sephiroth doesn't know how to answer that. He thought she only saw him as a brother, but had he missed something? Had he said something wrong? Done something to make her believe her feelings were reciprocated? "You have my sincerest apologies, Ms. Gainsborough, if I've led you on in any way." He tries to rectify the situation, his heart plummeting into the pit of his stomach. How would he ever make this better? She would hate him for all eternity… and he would have lost his only friend. "But… unfortunately, I'm not attracted to anyone of your sex."

Aerith snorts, and Sephiroth finally sees the amusement on both of their faces.

"You're teasing me again," he realizes, all of his apprehension melting away.

"You're too easy," Aerith reminds him, and Sephiroth is stuck between scowling at her and being overwhelmingly relieved that he hadn't actually lost her.

He deflects, instead.

"Was there something you needed, Zackary?" he asks, hoping that by keeping his voice steady and level, he'll be able to cover his embarrassment at being fooled yet again. (But embarrassed or not, he does enjoy her company, he'll admit – Genesis claims it's because he's a masochist.)

"Ah, right!" Zack snaps his fingers and points behind him. "Rufus—I mean, the President wants to see us, said it had something to do with Gen..." He fidgets, his uneasiness only feeding Sephiroth's growing sense of dread. "I hope everything's ok…"

"Zack," Sephiroth sighs. Genesis is sick. You need to prepare yourself for the worst, he readies himself to say, because if there's one thing he will not do, it's provide Zack with false hope.

He doesn't get the chance.

Aerith squeezes his hand, effectively shutting him up. "Don't worry," she says, speaking as much to Sephiroth as she is to Zack. "It'll all be fine."

"You're sure?" Zack asks, his voice hopeful even though Genesis had snapped at him just the other morning.

"I felt a change in the wind yesterday," Aerith replies, as cryptic as ever. "It said, Everything will be ok… or at least, that's what I wanted it to say. But, you know… Ah, no. Nevermind." She's smiling still, but Sephiroth can see that same melancholy creeping back over her.

"Talk to her," he orders before he can think better of it.

"What's that?" Aerith asks, but the surprise is evident on both of their faces.

So, Sephiroth gestures to their joined hands and hides behind a lie before either of them can accuse him of being a 'softie' again. "Do you really want the President to see us holding hands? I can't imagine he'll be terribly pleased."

"Yeah, he does seem the jealous sort," Zack agrees, his attention successfully diverted.

But Aerith just smirks, a wicked twinkle in her eyes, and Sephiroth finally understands why she has the soulmates she does. "I'm counting on it, actually. Rufus is very… thorough in his attentions when he gets jealous."

"Gah! My poor ears!"

"I don't need to hear this."

Aerith laughs.

"He's… in Nibelheim… and you… you're in the TV."

Cloud should have realized that this was going to happen. It was the Strife Curse. Or perhaps the Cloud Curse. Either way, he should have known that he wouldn't actually make it out of the mines unseen.

Not for lack of trying, of course. It's not your problem. They can take care of themselves. A dragon will be the least of their concerns if Sephiroth makes it to Jenova. All were things he had told himself, knowing full well he would fold eventually.

He never got the chance, though.

Zack had made the choice for him. Had let out a truly guttural, "WARK!" and raced off in search of the dragon before Cloud could close his fingers around the bird's feathers. And if that wasn't bad enough, he had then frozen in front of the dragon and almost let it burn him to a crisp.

He had nearly given Cloud a heart attack.

But, whatever. Zack was ok now, aside from a rather nasty stomachache, and Cloud finally had irrefutable proof that his counterpart and, by extension, Sephiroth really were in Nibelheim. He just wishes there had been some other way to do it without showing his face. Or giving up that elixir, but that trooper with the severed spine certainly needed it more than he did – the only chance the man had of walking again was if his body was tricked into thinking the damage had never happened. The longer they waited, the more likely he would be paralyzed forever.

Cloud just hopes, though, that those two Hi-Potions the others had on them would be enough for that other trooper. The one who had clearly gotten into a fight with the dragon's claws… and lost.

He hadn't hung around to find out, of course. He'd beaten a hasty retreat, mildly content that the other troopers had taken his 'no relation' argument at face value.

But now that he thinks about it, he should probably check the date once he reaches Junon.

Just in case.

He was known to make mistakes from time to time.

"Kwehhh…."

Cloud sighs and curls into a more comfortable position on the forest floor. Or at least as comfortable as he can manage with an 8-foot tall Chocobo sprawled miserably across him. "I told you not to eat all of those Gysahl Greens," he scolds gently. "And what were you thinking running off after that dragon like that, huh?"

"Kweh kwehhh…"

"I know, I know," Cloud says and runs a hand soothingly through the bird's feathers. "You were just trying to help…" For a moment, he wonders what black hair would feel like rather than downy feathers – would it be just as soft? "But if you're not careful, you're going to get yourself killed."

A hand on his head.

A fond smile.

A horrible lie – "Everything'll be ok, buddy."

"Kweh…?"

"Hmm?" Cloud asks and blinks himself back to the present – a present where the only Zack using his body as a pillow is a 400 lb Chocobo. "Guess I'll just have to make sure you don't do anything stupid, huh?" he says and pulls the bird closer.

Luckily for them, the Turks had already made their way to Junon, if that helicopter he had heard earlier was anything to go by. He still had time to make sure Zack knew that jumping in front of bullets was a bad thing.

Unluckily, though, it meant that they'd have to dodge the Turks in Junon, too. Something he was hoping not to have to do again so soon – hence why he had decided to hide out deep in this forest rather than somewhere more 'civilized', like Fort Condor.

But what was done was done. There was no turning back time, no redoing things. And there was definitely no heading straight to Junon and carving a path all the way to the docks. Cloud already had first-hand experience (and the trauma to go along with it) to know that even a 1st Class SOLDIER could be taken out by a large enough army. And even if he was able to handle everything Shinra had to throw at him, even if the docks weren't shut down because of his interference, well then what? He still would have blown his cover. Still would have handed his plans directly into Shinra's hands.

If he heads out now, he'd only be setting himself up for failure.

So, no. Only an idiot would go in guns blazing. And since Barret wasn't there with him, Cloud would just have to wait for nightfall and use the cover of darkness to sneak his way through town.

For the time being, though, he tries to convince himself to sleep. To dream of what life could have been like if everything hadn't gone so terribly, terribly wrong.

Tifa.

The kids.

Avalanche.

Zack 'Too Good for this World' Fair pressed up against his side.

And Aerith. Sweet, wonderful, living Aerith teasing them mercilessly because of it.

Happy.

They would have been happy.

Meanwhile, a world away

Tifa had tried to convince herself that Cloud was just busy. That he must be tending to some sort of emergency or other (which never failed to crop up whenever they had plans), and just hadn't had the chance to call yet. But no, there it was, sitting large and proud outside the church. Fenrir, as sleek and as spotless as ever, Cloud's PHS dangling from the handlebar.

A flash of anger and indignation worms its way past the concern, and Tifa yanks the keys out of the truck's ignition with a little more force than absolutely necessary. If nothing else, Tifa knew one thing – Cloud had better be bleeding out on the floor of that church, otherwise he'd be getting quite the earful tonight (he had promised he wouldn't do this again).

She stomps her way up the stone steps without thinking, but manages to catch herself before tearing the church door off its hinges. "Ok, kids." She plasters on a fake smile (that was hopefully convincing enough) and leans down towards Marlene and Denzel. "You remember the plan, right?"

"Find Cloud—" Denzel starts, excited.

"—and give him the lecture of a lifetime!" Marlene finishes, pumping a fist into the air.

Tifa giggles, some of her anger fading away. "That's right."

Her worry returns full force, though, when they enter the sanctum and find neither Cloud nor any sign that he had been there. The bed roll and chest of materia were long gone – removed after his fight with Sephiroth and the Remnants. And, really, Cloud had been doing so much better. What on Gaia could have happened?

"Don't worry, Tifa. We'll find him," Denzel says, a reassuring quirk to his lips – as if he wanted to smile for her sake, but was just as concerned as she was (and, really, there were times where he acted far too mature for his age). "Isn't that right, Marlene?"

"Yup!"

"Stick together," she makes them promise and then watches as the two of them race further into the church, their hands clasped together – "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

She shakes her head, fondly, as they disappear through the back door, and continues her search of the main sanctum. "Cloud?" she calls, perhaps foolishly, to the empty room, but something just feels so familiar.

She's not sure what.

And then it all happens so fast.

A swish of pink. A hand ghosting its way up her arm. Warm breath teasing across her cheek and stopping her heart dead in her chest. "He's not here," a sad voice says straight into her soul.

And Tifa whirls around, chasing the sensation. "Aerith?" she begs, but the sanctum is just as empty as when she had first entered it, even though her broken heart wants to believe that there's an equally woeful voice whispering her name in return. "Please…" Don't leave me again.

But there's no response, and she slumps there, despondent, wishing (not for the first time) that they had at least had the chance to go shopping on the plate together (like she had so foolishly let herself believe they'd be able to do). One minute passes in silence, and then another, and she's just considering staying like that for the rest of the day, when she hears the sound of pattering footsteps behind her. "Tifa!" Marlene stumbles through the door, Denzel not far behind. "Cloud's not here!"

"He might be further in the city, though!" Denzel offers, probably in an attempt to console Marlene – they absolutely doted on one another.

But Tifa knows better. "He's gone," she tells them.

"…Tifa?"

And she's sent a message to the rest of their friends before she can second-guess herself.

Cloud's missing.

A/N:

- Roche is my favorite new character in the Remake, so I wanted him to have somebody (since Cloud wasn't interested in him), hence how Lukas came about. Lukas is the last OC I have planned currently (might change down the line, but currently he's the last one I have planned). He's also essential to the story, I promise.

- The two armbands Cloud stole were Ziedrich and Minerva Band (which you can steal from Rude and Elena in the OG game).

- You can thank my beta reader for the "Trooper Who Cried Chocobo" joke XD

- Teaser for next time: "Well, well, well. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Blondie?"