Forbidden Fantasy: Soulmates

Fantasy's Flight

By: NemesisStrife

Disclaimer: These Final Fantasy 7 characters are property of Squaresoft. This is an Alternate Universe epic saga pre-game fanfiction. As stated before, this is a Cloud and Sephiroth pairing, involving shounen-ai, and it is my take on what should have happened in the game. Respect my opinions.

NOTES: People, since the server now has a new format, please check for my story under "Sort By Update (Chaptered)".  I hope you know what to do, with all the "Sort by summary", "Sort by rating" stuff up...keep on reading, and Review please. If you want the next chapter up soon, well, Leave Feedback.

Pre-chapter background/author rant/prologue thingy:

… …the middle coffin shows signs of motion, and the lid slowly opens to reveal a black-haired, pale figure, with dark circles under her eyes due to lack of sleep. There are signs of stirring, and you see a faded, worn fic entitled "Forbidden Fantasy :Soulmates - Fantasy's Flight" clutched in hands folded across the cover. It is surprising that the author is alive. More surprising is the fact that the fic doesn't appear to be dead yet, after these long thirty years. (closer to ¾ of a year, but anyway…)

"Why have you disturbed my slumber? My soul suffers under a burden of guilt and my dreams are plagued with the need to atone for my sin," she demands.

The blond ex-SOLDIER smiles apologetically, and replies, "sorry, Nemesis. I know you're going to have exams throughout the next month, so you've been trying to catch up on your sleep ~and~ study, but we've got to remind you that it's been about 8 or 9 months since the last post."

His tall, silver-haired lover materialises by his side, wrapping an arm slightly possessively around his waist. Sephiroth adds in, "yeah, and I'm sick of being stuck in limbo at Kalm. Can't you hurry up a little?"

Nemesis blinks, starts counting the dates, goes back to check the calendar, and the screaming of some reviewers… "Oops. I believe you're right. Hey? I didn't realise I hit the 100 mark! ^^;; Let's check out some of those…"

… … Later, after much time, and (admittedly well-deserved) much screaming/assorted physical "encouragement"… …

"Ouch! This is going a ~bit~ far… …"

Wincing from the sensation of a well-placed boot on the rear, as well as the random author abuse, and grumbling half-heartedly all the way, she drags herself out from hibernation to revive the story by casting a "Life2" on it. As Nemesis works on it, a low mutter can be heard in the background, "… …good. I finally get my bed back."

Warnings for this chapter

1) Apologies for the awfully long wait you had. I really didn't think it was already 9 months and whatever days until someone pointed that out to me. Eheheheh… *sheepish* In mitigation, I plead having to go through pre-university entrance exams in about 2 months, and my preliminary exams have ~already~ started, as of this week.

2)This is going to be a loooong chapter. It's easily 1 ½ times the size of my longest so far, and I've been writing on an on-off basis, so you might have rather erratic style changes as a few weeks may have passed in between portions. Then again, about the entire back half was written after one of my Science practical exams, because I decided to blow off studying, so I can't say very much about my coherence at that point in time. Oh, and I'm throwing Cloud in a thick mire of angst, angst and more angst because I'm working mine out. Call it transference of suffering across writer's craft, since I just got my results for my Second (or non-English) Language Paper and those were awfully disappointing. At least the end angst should be realistic, because it ~was~ a real mood. Unless I'm always over-reacting and usually a depressive person by nature.

3) The title: "Drowning in Darkness" seemed to be appropriate in this case considering that firstly, it starts almost with crying and does end in tears, and there's a constant repetition of themes of "fluid" or "water" throughout. The "Darkness" is for all the angsty, depressively morbid bits. Add both together and you have poor Cloud tormented by horrible author nightmares, dumped into a hell of a lot of pain, and dragged through dark Nibelheim flashbacks (you know how bad ~those~ get.) As said before, I was in a really non-happy mood, and I tend to identify with and "merge" unnervingly easily into Cloud-persona, which means he gets to feel whatever I feel, since it "transfers" over.

4) BAAAD Nibelheim. With Tifa. But… um… she's nice to Cloud? (in a very weird, twisted way.) Evil minor villain + sidekick/henchman involved, nasty villagers, etc, etc. Just your typically dysfunctional childhood if you happen to be a normal, slightly emotionally screwed, pretty-boy Squaresoft hero.

5) Just like to thank JY and Kiyoshi for putting up with "demented butterflies" (cough.) JY, for putting with my rather "self-indulgent" style, especially at the start, (Read: indulging in massively detailed angst-ness), especially considering she doesn't like yaoi. But most of all, to K for reading through the entire thing in spite of all the beta-ing having to be done in the mornings of the Chemistry and English examinations. (More guilt added on my shoulders if she fails… must atone…).

6) Special mention goes to Nicky, for the long email correspondence and the random flashes of inspiration thrown about at 2 am in the morning. For hanging on through months of strange psychotic behaviour, thought spillage and general weirdness. (… and hot chocolate that she doesn't like to melt marshmallows in, so the two items come in separate trays^^)

7) There's a whole long list of other people I should mention, namely all you nice reviewers out there, who hopefully haven't lost heart quite yet, although I know I've given you more than enough reason. But I'll have to do that as well as other explanations/footnotes at the end, since I'm sure you're eager for me to cut the crap and get on with this. Be warned, I'm still rusty, and my "writing muscle" probably atrophied. (Forgive me… ^^)

I didn't realise I have a grand total of … … 113 reviews. O.o. And some reviewers are persisting 5?6? months after the last post. (Gomen, gomen. You're faith has been repaid^^) I'll do a proper "Academy Awards" Acknowledgement speech later, to recognise as many of the people I owe this to as I can, so be patient and read to the end, please?

For Cloud Strife, because I love him. Because it's going to be the 2 year anniversary this year, and we're past the 1 year mark since I first posted on ffnet.

" " Normal speech

' ' Thoughts

italics Emphasis

~ ~ Mental speech/ Telepathy

// // Flashback

Chapter 9

Drowning In Darkness

//Light paper cup dropping from nerveless fingers, to crumple at the impact of colliding on the hard stone floor. Dropping… falling… crumpling…//

Illusions, falling, shattering, dying, each piece of dream a broken fragment, fragile hopes plunging to crash on the unyielding reality. Run, run away before it crashes down on you.

//The water spilling in its graceful arc, each individual drop catching the light, reflecting it in one shimmering moment, throwing up a dizzying, blurring vision before pooling on the floor.//

Liquid wetness seeping impartially into skin and fabric alike, leaving traces of its flow, of its lingering caress on warm skin, cool tracks of a slow path down. The liquid glistened on surfaces, coating them, marking them slippery, spray of water reminiscent of rain… Weeping.

//Dropped cup spilling water in place of the tears… tears he would not cry.//

He would not cry. He would not. Not in front of them, not in front of anyone, not ever again. Pride demanded it so. Tears were a symbol of vulnerability, displaying weakness that he could not afford to show. Emotions were a weakness he could not afford to have. But he still did have them, and it hurt…

//Reno standing with them. Together, all of them, an exclusive bunch united against the outsider. Solidarity against the outcast. Then later, just a short while later… Betrayal.//

//Grey eyes silvered with strong emotion, red hair in its usual disarray, hands reaching out to him, offering… Twisting away, evading the too-close presence, blindly breaking free of the stifling crowd, into the safety of solitude.//

Eyes burning, as the smart of hurt anger caused shameful moisture to gather at the corners of his eyes, misting his sight, before he blinked rapidly to hold back the onslaught of tears. 'I don't want his pity.' Cloud's mind recoiled from the thought, helplessly circling in a loop of betrayal-hurt-anger-fear-pride, rejecting any misguided, unwanted sympathy. It hurt, stinging his already wounded self-esteem, to know that he had fallen into another trap, caught in a moment of extreme weakness, to be exposed, torn apart internally for the vultures to savage the remains. Each lost dream, every illusion, now shattered fragments, razor-sharp shards cutting into already bleeding skin, jagged splinters of past hopes embedding themselves into fresh wounds. He relentlessly brought them up individually, again and again, memories tearing into childish naiveté, masochistic in his deliberate attempt to kill off any remnants of foolish dreams, by the ripping away of innocence, wounding psyche with the cold truth.

'No one will be able to hurt me more than myself…'

Cloud choked back a laugh at the ironically funny thought, it made no sense at all, but was logical in a really twisted way. 'All I have to do to not get hurt anymore is to wound myself worse than anyone ever could, or ever will… Every lesser level of pain can be tolerated if I am tortured by torments of my own devising. I won't feel anything they inflict on me if I overwhelm my system with the limits of pain…' Sobering quickly, he wondered how he could seriously consider such actions.

"Yeah, why don't I just end it all by jumping off a cliff, might as well carry that idea to its extreme," he remarked aloud to the darkness of his dormitory room, surprised at how mocking and tight his voice sounded. He could not recall his journey back, it was amazing he had even managed to concentrate through the turmoil of emotions, to find his way back safely, feet instinctively heading for refuge in unseeing escape.

//Physical feet soundlessly treading, racing through the grey ShinRa corridors, while mentally traversing invisible paths in unthinking flight… An echo of previous thoughts, 'run away… before everything falls apart and crashes down on you… Run, flee, before they catch up.' But even as he fled, he knew that it was merely on exercise in futility. 'Run before memories and emotions catch up… run from yourself…' His mind would always catch up to him eventually.//

Shuddering, as if to physically drag his thoughts away from such matters, he shifted on his bunk, drawing closer to the wall, as if hoping to gain succour or support from the inanimate object. The whispered refrain… 'to not feel injuries from others… only yourself, origin of pain, source of emotion from you alone…' Cloud vocalized it in one shaky breath, "that can't be right… To hurt myself worse than anyone can hurt me… so I don't feel anymore…"

'It shouldn't be right,' his mind cried out against the uncertainty, but the protest died mutely in blue eyes flickering with confusion. 'Numb to wounds inflicted, pain a familiar recurrence, not hurt anymore… save by yourself. All it requires is that no one can hurt you, except you. Always you.' Stubbornly holding to a waning torch of clarity, resolution reduced to a wordless repetition…

'No. It's not right. No.' Cloud curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his now-drawn-up legs, firmly shutting his eyes and pressing his face against bent knees, sitting with his back against the reassuring solidness of the wall. 'But I'm doing it now, aren't I? Tormenting myself far more than any other could…'

Chest tight and aching, throat constricted, unable to form words, or even sound, sparks of a fierce pride holding him back from crying. 'But at least it's better than the alternative…

Isn't it? …'

*** *** *** ***

As far back as he could remember, the pain had always been there, as much a part of him as his blood, residing just under the thin surface layer of skin, threading through the fibres of nerves, woven into contours of muscle, embedded in the core of his bones. The pain, inevitably tied in with a dim sense of strangeness, of not-belonging. Even at three, when he entered for the first time into Nibelheim, there was a struggling awareness of being different, foreign to the quiet pattern and set ways of village life, alien to the normal routine of society. And it all had something to do with their displacement from a home he could now no longer recall, except in vague terms of warmth and peace; their hurried rush, almost frantic escape, and subsequent arrival at the mountain town. The journey there had been endless, at least to a child who could not measure time, or distance, travelling, running away for so long that it seemed to be the only life he had known then. But quickly forgotten, with only traces left, memories of shadowed darkness, stumbling over uneven slopes, and the unsteady rocking of a ship amidst wind-tossed waves.

He could not comprehend then, the reasons for the move, only understanding that it something to do with the inexplicable sense of loss, the sadness in his mother's eyes as she hugged him close; and the faded, tear-blurred photograph of a missing man with dark brown hair and serious, patient eyes, known only as 'Father'. The absence, of that once-familiar face, was the reason behind the constant pain in his mother's expression, and the factor that fuelled the hushed, whispered speculation, the murmur of gossip behind their backs, accompanied by the sidelong glances, and sly remarks.

//"Is that the child?"

"I can't believe his mother dares to show her face in public!"

"How can we let our children associate with such bad examples?"

"Woman probably shamed the family reputation, that's why she had to run here with the kid. And no husband!"

"Widowed… a likely story…"//

There was no chance for them to integrate into the town, not for a single mother, no hope to fit into the close-knit village life, where everything was an open secret in that insular, isolated town, considering her obvious "city" air, and complete lack of a settled partner.

//"Nothing, not even a marriage certificate, just an old picture of some man, the so-called husband," they sneered, "ex-lover, or one-night-stand, more like."//

Acceptance completely withheld by all quarters of society, there was not place for a non-conventional family unit, for a father-less home in conservative Nibelheim. Not even for the child. Especially not for Cloud.

*** *** *** ***

//It was a typical weekday at Nibelheim, parents either busy in the small shops, creating objects for sale at one of the larger towns down the mountain, or at home, completing the daily chores. The town, just slightly above the level of a village, was situated partway up the Nibel Mountains, but still near the base of these continuous slopes. There was only a rough trail, barely wide enough for a vehicle to pass through, which wound down to the base of the mountain, linking them to the main route to Cosmo Canyon. By virtue of the fact that ShinRa had built a reactor on Mt Nibel, the town had been constructed, with locals gathering near the source of their Mako power, creating a populated area to engage in commerce and minor trade. Although they had an elected mayor, Mayor Lockheart, complete authority lay in ShinRa hands, with the expansive ShinRa mansion a testimony to the real power. It was in such a place that the children played, under the indulgent eyes of tolerant adults.

They had formed a circle, grouping expectantly around their "leaders", waiting for instructions on what to play next. Even at that age, the children instinctively knew where the power lay. Tifa Lockheart, Mayor's daughter, a dark-haired girl with curiously rose-tinted eyes, looked at two younger copies of Erek Mollina and Johnny Brooke.

"What do you wanna do next?" she asked, seemingly directed to the entire bunch, but in reality, turning to the duo next to her. Red-headed Johnny glanced up briefly, pale greenish eyes darting quickly towards Erek's face, waiting for the decision to be made before voicing his automatic support.

Erek frowned thoughtfully, brushing tendrils of damp brown hair away from his eyes, making a big show of deciding. He enjoyed it, enjoyed the fact that others looked to him, as if waiting with bated breath for his command, revelling in the fact he was the unquestioned leader due to his age advantage and superior size. Most were one, if not two years younger, easily persuaded to another's point-of-view, particularly if the other had over a year's height on them. The only one he did not try to bully was the Mayor's daughter, due to her position, and the important difference in gender. So he waited, keeping them all in suspense for moments longer, secure in the knowledge he had their full and undivided attention.

Cloud moved at the outskirts of the town centre, not daring to venture any further, fearful of overstepping the invisible boundaries and barriers which were always in place, yet unable to be seen or predicted, always unknowingly breaking some rule, making some misstep that led to the sharp reprimand and full wrath of an adult upon his head. He had seen the others playing before, private games filled with shared laughter and activity that he could only dream of joining, of being a part of that exclusive group. He had lived in the town several years, yet somehow had never managed to find his way into the society, place-less, unable to fit in.

Quiet by nature, unwilling to push himself forward, the self-contained expression concealed loneliness and a deep pain, unnoticed by all including Cloud himself. Unnoticed, save by his mother. She would always ask if he had found a friend, face falling in disappointment on his behalf at his continual response in the negative; there to comfort and listen and soothe the seven-year-old, an unchanging security in his life, her mere presence making everything seem bearable. But sometimes, even that failed.

'I tried to make friends, I really did… Why doesn't anyone want to let me join in? I didn't ask to be alone.'

The crowd of children was getting slightly restless, impatient with the wait, and some at the fringes were preparing to break off, interest wandering as the "leader" remained indecisive. Erek shifted uncomfortably as he tried to think of something new, something to recapture his hold over the gathered kids. It was at this unfortunate moment that Cloud chose to make his entrance.

Taking a few steps closer, hesitant, yet unwilling to hold back any longer, Cloud cautiously approached the others, insides twisting with nervousness, breaking the focus with a painfully shy, polite voice.

"Hi. May I join?"

Tifa gazed curiously at the blond, hair already showing the beginnings of unruly spikes, staring into unusual, clear eyes of bright sapphire blue. His posture was conflicted, uncertainly waiting for approval, expecting rejection; poised for flight, in that instant of time like a deer caught paralysed by the sweeping headlight of an oncoming car.

It was almost with relief that Erek turned savagely on the intruder, angered that should dare break the established order, interrupt his train of thought. "No. Go 'way! We don't want you here." With that, he noted in self-satisfaction that the rest were with him now, distracted from their restlessness by the prospect of someone to bond together against. He was even more self-assured when he saw it was the "newcomer", the strange boy with the different background, the one who was an outsider; and most importantly, without the benefit of a father to run to for protection. That knowledge, as well as his advantage of three extra years of growth, increased his sense of security while taunting Cloud.

"My mom tol' me not t' play with you, she said that you're not fit to play with, 'cos… oh yeah, you don't have a Daddy! So push off!" Erek jeered, childishly cruel words accompanied by vigorous action. Stumbling backwards, landing awkwardly on the ground behind, the hard rocks bruising, sharp gravel embedding into tiny cuts on bare skin due to the force of the shove; Cloud turned his head to stare at the ground, breathing heavily. The beginnings of tears stung the corner of darkened blue eyes as he fought back crying, not from physical pain, but from the hurt of rejection, salt rubbed in old wounds of loneliness. Glancing up in spite of himself, he saw their departing backs, brown hair streaked with lighter strands, and red-copper hair flaming in the sunlight. Tifa was holding back slightly, meeting his gaze with eyes filled with confusion, and… pity? Then she too, turned away, leaving the blond alone with himself and his hurt.//

//"Where's your father? You don't have one, do you, boy?"//

//"My mom said you don't have a dad."//

//"You aren't like me. I've got a family."//

It was always the same refrain, the same old phrases and the same contempt, as if it were all his fault somehow, that his mere presence was an offence if he existed without a "complete" family unit, with the absence of a father. From the quiet mutters and audible "tsk-ing" of adults, to the copycat, blind imitation of their children, parroting their elders and leaders, unanimously against him. So, he learned to cope with him, deal with the words, to tolerate the daily pain that eventually became a part of him. And to live with the shame.

*** *** *** ***

//Again, another memory surfacing unbidden from the bottommost recesses of the dark pool of memory; this time of a Nibelheim almost five years later, with a much-altered scenery due to the impending winter, trees now bearing crisp autumn-gold leaves clinging on desperately to branches before they were swirled off to further cover the ground already blanketed in an ankle-high layer of the dry, red-brown fallen leaves. The slightest chill in the air promised a snowy winter, even if its advent was still a week or two away.

Cushioned by the soft grass and leaf piles, leaning against the old stone well, it was a more mature, grown boy who studiously contemplated his books. With the twelve-year-old on the border of restless teenage years, the differences were instantly apparent, as both mentally and physically, Cloud had changed much. However, the town, and its inhabitants, still had not. The attitudes were still there, perhaps more obvious now, open sneers and deep resentment at his continued presence, disappointed that the normal childhood repertoire of illnesses and careless accidents had not managed to finish off the fragile-looking child. It had been taken to such extremes that his entire existence was almost a sin to them, and Cloud took obscure pride and delight in flaunting his survival in their sour faces.

Prolonging that survival meant avoiding confrontation, in which he had learnt expertise very fast, right to the point of being antisocial and shunning all company. Loneliness was not a forced punishment, or a last resort, but rather, an option embraced unreservedly, with the self-enforced solitude much preferred to the childish babble of others playing. At his mother's urging, Cloud had made a few more half-hearted attempts to join in, but one these had been ignored or refused, he had retreated back into his shell with an acquiescence approaching relief.

This cool afternoon, he was engrossed in a favourite pastime, hiding in the shade of the old well, while lost in a book. The rapt attention was broken by a disruption in the alternating silence and natural music of insects and birdsong, alerted by the sound of approaching footsteps on the stone path, and he turned to face the source of the noise, lines of his muscles stretched taut by quivering tension.

Tifa advanced along the old stone and gravel trail, feeling slightly miffed at how the day was going so far. It had started well enough, but after lunch, the two boys who were constantly hovering around her in the hopes of gaining her favour had started to argue. The not-so friendly competition had soon degenerated into an all-out fistfight, with both combatants focussed on beating the crap out of each other to the exclusion of all else, so wrapped up in argument that they forgot her, and she had left in disgust. Pouting darkly, vowing to pay both the boys back for the neglect by ignoring them for the next decade or so, the eleven-year-old stormed away from the town to the neared quiet spot she could find. It was in that black mood that she chanced upon Cloud.

"Oh! Hello," Tifa smiled, getting over her initial surprise that there was anyone else up on the supposedly-deserted mountainside.

"Hi," Cloud replied, albeit a trifle grudgingly, lowering the protective mask of his book, wary sapphire-blue eyes glancing above the rather age-battered cover, but not releasing his tight grasp on it completely, ready at a moments notice to raise the heavy leather-bound paper barrier, and retreat once again into the silent, secure world of fixed patterns of ink. Immutable and constant, the trail of letters across the page was reassuringly unchanging and dependable, which was more than could be said for the moods of other people. Especially that of the rather flighty girl standing before him now.

He had tried to associate with the younger child before, shortly after the first attempt to integrate, partly from the memory of that one look, which if not sympathetic, was at least not hostile. As she was popular, due to the fortunate coincidence of birth, being both pretty and the mayor's daughter, Cloud had hoped his battle for acceptance would be won if she had "befriended" him, but all attempts at establishing any link had been rebuffed, more often than not because he failed to get through the exclusive coterie of her clique and hangers-on. There had been no one brave enough to go against the opinion held by the masses, no one willing to risk associating with the "outcast". So it was with hesitation, nervousness and slight suspicion that he responded, ready to dive back into the shelter of printed pages.

Tifa liberally bestowed her array of winning smiles and bright-eyed glances, pleased to notice that the quiet boy had finally been drawn into a conversation, though he still sounded somewhat uncertain, voice possessing a tentative quality, as if he was using it for the first time, testing out social skills raw from lack of practice. The combination of gauche naiveté and shy, polite mannerisms, as well as the added novelty of the different, "new" personality, lent him the peculiar attractiveness of the unknown, with his awkwardness strangely charming.

Her sense of satisfaction reached a triumphant pitch as Cloud's grip on his book weakened, at last relinquishing his hold on it to close the covers and place it to the side, relaxing his guard to devote full attention to her. 'Well, finally.' Tifa decided that she did like the short ponytail, it was awfully cute on him. All things considered, it was going pretty well, and her day was looking up after that morning's miserable start.

"So, Cloud, what is that thick book you're reading?" she asked, taking the opportunity to lean dangerously closer, ostentatiously to get a better look.

"It's just one of the texts I'm using for self-study… Um, it's nothing, really." On his part, Cloud was torn between surprise at the sudden interest taken in him, and embarrassment that he had, once again, been caught reading, or rather, studying, an occupation deemed "impractical" by Nibelheim society's worthies, the general consensus being that academic ability could not match up to physical strength and achievement, an aspect he failed dismally in, with his slight frame in comparison to the more heavy-set build typical of the area.

It was all very confusing, with the inexplicable and undreamed-of friendliness shown, the abrupt reversal of attitude too fast to reconcile conflicting emotions, leaving him to struggle through implicit social norms and rules for mixing with other people that he never actually had need of before. He supposed he should feel… something, at least an emotion vaguely along the lines of pride, or pleasure in another's company, but somehow… All he could manage was mild curiosity mixed with a growing sense of alarm at the narrowing distance between them.

Cloud shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the proximity, then covered up his uneasy, instinctive backing away by pretending to retrieve the book, removing Tifa's excuse to bend over to scrutinize the object in question. He was not exactly sure when the brunette had seated herself right next to him, tilting perilously over his lap, so that the top of her head was mere millimetres below his mouth, and the loose strands of long, dark hair brushed against his bare arms and neck. In a ticklish, skin-prickling, downright scary way. Cloud forced himself to suppress a reflexive shudder as they started twining around, ominously clinging to every available surface, crawling over sensitised skin.

Tifa returned to her original upright posture, oblivious to the fact that her companion was breathing a sigh of relief as her… presence was retreating to a less invasive, more tolerable distance. As the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach grew, with the sensation of hundreds of demented butterflies flapping madly around within, much in the self-same free-flying fashion as the wispy brown tendrils escaping the tied-on ribbons to drift over skin recoiling from the contact, Cloud fought the irrational urge to scramble up and bolt.

His current predicament would not last long. Another set of approaching footsteps was heard, and Cloud turned to face the source, intensely relieved at the distraction, and potential salvation. 'Two visitors in one day. I never knew my retreat was going to become a hot tourist attraction…' he thought, undecided whether to be annoyed or resigned to the frequency of these interruptions. 'Oh joy. Just what I need right now. This is so not my day.'

Looming imposingly ahead was an all-too-familiar dark, muscled figure. Erek ignored Cloud, focussing instead on Tifa, saying in a placatory tone, "Teef, I'm sorry about the fighting earlier. Now will you come back down where you belong? We've been looking for you."

At that, the girl scowled, not liking either the imperious look, or the thinly veiled command implicit in his voice. Instead, her hand reached out to latch onto the surprised blond's arm, as she glared back, intoxicated from the "high" of defiance and the giddy thrill of the forbidden, dizzied by the half-guilty, heady rush from indulging in something denied. Face darkening, or rather, flushing to a swirled-purplish-red akin to that of a beet, Erek tried again to persuade the suddenly wilful and stubborn brunette. Cloud was almost comforted by the tight grip on his elbow; the sensation of not being alone, of having someone to stand up together with was reassuring.

"Even if you're mad at me, you shouldn't be hanging out with him!" Truly angry now, the teenager unused to anything but complete obedience, Erek's spiteful words were designed to remind all parties involved of the social hierarchy.

"It's true," piped up the thin redheaded Johnny, materialising to appear at Erek's side, invariably shadowing the fifteen-year-old "leader". "I saw them together this afternoon, which is why I went off to tell ya, buddy," Johnny snickered nervously, eyes bright at the prospect of a conflict. Erek motioned him to be silent, impatiently shouldering past on the narrow path to get closer to Tifa.

'Why do I have this feeling that I'm caught in some territorial alpha-male ritual show of dominance?' The caustic thought leapt unbidden to Cloud's mind, 'then the alpha-male starts flexing his muscles "impressively", while the little sycophant cheers from the sidelines.' Feeling out of place, and having a very bad omen of what was to come, Cloud tried to disengage himself from any encumbrance. 'I knew she was going to be a hindrance. Think I'll need both hands free for this.' Suspicions proved horribly right a few adrenaline-speeded-up heartbeats later, Cloud braced himself for the inevitable as Erek gestured warningly, fists clenching. '…And the lead gorilla prepares to intimidate his opponent into submission, using a show of brute force to drive away the interloper. Namely, me.'

"Get away from here," Erek directed, half in a snarl, and the brave, courageous resolution on Tifa's face melted rapidly, to be replaced by shock and alarm, disbelieving that anyone would dare take that tone with her. At his heavy advance, she abruptly turned and fled, back to the safety of the town, presumably to resort to adult help. Which was the last thing Cloud could count on right now.

Erek's initial anger had been replaced with a cold, calculating fury, needing to put down this challenge to his previously unquestioned leadership, restore some modicum of dignity and self-pride. It just would not do to have another circle set up, especially one which centred on anything other than him. He eyed the blond distrustfully, the one who made him feel uneasy, not because of any outright opposition to his authority, but instinctive dislike for an unknown quality, an unpredictable element.

Cloud suppressed a pained sigh as he knew Erek was going to do something to regain his "power", at least as he saw it, though physical, and likely very painful means. 'He's afraid,' Cloud realised, the sudden flash of insight startling in its stark clarity. 'Not of me, exactly, but of what I represent… … change, the unfamiliar. A deviant from the accepted, normal patterns, disruptive because I don't fit in, don't try to fit in.' Ironical, really, when he had given up trying due to repeated failures. 'He needs to have people desperately following, so he can sneer and push them away, or condescendingly allow them to fawn over him. That's why he keeps Johnny tagging along, tolerating his presence out of "magnanimity". …Heh. Knowledge is empowering.' Bittersweet, as it also came with the truth that despite the revelation, nothing would alter the balance. 'I can make all the mental observations, and tear him into pieces to be analysed, but it won't end up any different.' A dispassionate judgement would be enough to reveal the uselessness of trying to fight back, disadvantaged in terms of years, and handicapped by numbers.

"What's the matter, newcomer?" Johnny taunted, grin vicious and tone smugly superior. It hurt, the constant reminder that regardless of all the nine years of living in Nibelheim, of practically the earliest memories being of the town, he was still considered foreign, not a welcome part of society. Yet he had to ignore the sting of the words, quietly take all the insults dealt out casually, to avoid worsening the situation. No matter how the jeers rankled, how it galled him to have to stand there mutely, good sense urged him down the path of reason, offering himself unresistingly to fate, though every cell within him rebelled against the show of cowardice, haunted by the self-screamed accusations of weakness each time he walked away.

'Too bloody pathetic to even try and fight back… … Just weak, defenceless, useless!' The nagging inner voice, filled with self-doubt, sounded again, '…and exactly how are you going to be the next Sephiroth if you can't even stand up to the small-town bully? Might as well give up on those foolish dreams. That's all they are. Dreams.'

Turning submissively away, eyes downcast instead of meeting the gaze of either of his two tormentors, Cloud started a cautious retreat down towards the town, thought the motion was stiff as his body reflected his mind's reluctance to pursue the course of so-called "logic" in putting up this farcical attitude of defeat. He would force himself to grit his teeth and bear it though, as long as this humbling of himself and ruthless sacrifice of his pride worked in appeasing Erek, thus enabling him to leave relatively unscathed, escaping more or less intact. Except for his self-esteem of course, which was now suicidally suggesting that he stand up for once, and just try to get in a few fast blows and deal some reasonable damage before he got permanently incapacitated.

'I must be insane to be even entertaining such an idea. There is some vaguely dramatic, "tragic-hero" type appeal, almost something heroic in dying with honour… … But I'd rather not die at all, thank you oh-so-very much. At least not if I can help it.' It seemed to be working thus far, he was pleased to note, with his passive, non-confrontational approach satisfying Erek. Unfortunately, Johnny decided that it was not going to be as enjoyable a fight if they let the victim simply back away, faced with losing the prospect of an easy, profitably-spent afternoon. Taking matters into his own hands, he strutted forwards to stand directly in Cloud's path, blocking the route to safety.

"Where d'you think yer going?" the redhead sneered in his thick Nibelheim accent, thrusting his face into Cloud's line of vision, the words more of a statement than an actual question, purely rhetorical. Silent, despite what it cost him not to speak up, to accept, endure all that was thrown at him instead of flinging his defiance in their teeth; the blond merely stepped to the side, intent on avoidance. Irritated at the lack of response, Johnny deliberately mirrored his movement, blocking the path yet again. He chafed against the restraints of "civilisation", obligated to at least have the faintest shadow of an excuse before blows were traded. In spite of his repeated attempts, no reaction met the provocation, Cloud offering no resistance whatsoever; with Erek's face taking on a superior, bored expression as the sport became too easy, tiring of the "game". Johnny grew more and more exasperated, as the humiliation of being embarrassed like this in front of his leader burned in face now approaching the tint of his hair.

The humble pose was somehow a sign of strength, not of weakness, present giving-in a pretence, a sham, just a ploy. Smiling inside, though not showing it, Cloud took a grim satisfaction in the futile efforts of the teenager, no, still a boy, in terms of mental and emotional maturity, or rather, immaturity; that he could change the situation, reverse the roles so this child was losing whatever slim grasp he had on his hope for control. 'You are only able to do this to me because I choose to allow you to. Nothing more. The only power you have is what I let you hold over me. …And that irks you, doesn't it?'

Frustration mounting, seething at the lowered gaze that was indescribably mocking, feeling paranoid suspicion of secret, defiant amusement veiled by long eyelashes, Johnny finally made his move, out of anger, frustration, and out of fear.

He slapped Cloud.

The blond looked up, expression reflecting sheer amazement, eyes wide not from the shock of the pain across his cheek, but at the "blow". It was a slap, an open-palmed, spurned-lover-jealous-female variety, the "bitch-slap" which stung like hell for a while and left flaring red finger marks on one's face. Certainly not the hard, brutal clenched fist he expected, was used to; it was completely removed from the above category. 'This was what I was afraid of? I've been through so much worse, and I'm running from him? Heh. It's quite pathetic actually, even sad. So… dare I say it? Not masculine.'

Johnny waited, certain that the chastisement had been soundly delivered; but in the pause which followed, the silence was broken by the clear tones of laughter. Laughter, purely amused and unforced, easy and incredulous, even if that loosening of self-control was but for a brief span of seconds. He stared at the younger boy in disbelief, initial confidence abruptly shattered by the now-open disdain before him now, the barely-concealed scorn in the slight curve of lips into a half-smile-smirk, mirroring the derision in Erek's sneer.

Desperately turning to the fifteen-year-old for support, to help extricate him from this bully-victim encounter that had gone inexplicably awry, Johnny looked to Erek to save him from this predicament. 'It isn't supposed to end like this, dammit!' His unvoiced plea, begging for advice, for sympathy, withered in the face of the brown-eyed, remote glance that flickered over him briefly, then looked away dismissively, finding him worthy of no interest, undeserving of attention, undeserving of anything save contempt. As he crumbled under the weight of disapproval, Johnny shrank from the wordless disgust on his respected leader's face, skin's pallor serving as a stark contrast to the dusting of freckles across his nose; paleness extending even up to his forehead, showing up against the roots of deep red hair.

Cloud could almost feel sorry for him, as he groped vainly for understanding, searched for a respite from the ridicule. 'He's not going to receive any help. Erek despises weakness, only feels contempt for those under him, even while he accepts their blind following. It's enough to make one pity him… but he knew what he was getting into, knows what Erek is like, and that he shouldn't expect anything else… It is stupid; stupid, foolish behaviour, all so very immature and childish. Yet, who else could he learn from? The entire environment of Nibelheim is like that, even the adults behave much in the same way, just grown-up versions of children jostling for power, only now it's based on wealth, or ranking… So why am I any different?'

Perhaps it was that pity, the last straw, more so than the scorn, than anything else, the unbearable pity, the absolute gall that the blond, … that the Nibelheim outcast had the nerve to rub his disgrace into his face by condescendingly looking sorry for him; which caused Johnny to finally snap. The combination of instantaneous rage, long-held personal grudge, as well as frustration at not being able to vent his emotions on the true subject, led him to lash out viciously at the nearest available target. Like a wounded animal, backed into a corner, he struck where it would do the most damage, where it would hurt the most.

"Fatherless bastard!"

The snarled words caused Cloud to freeze, mid-step, just as he had been about to turn and head for home.  Johnny grinned fiercely, breath coming in quick, angry pants, adrenaline mixed with hatred in a potent brew, spilling over into those pale, sickly yellow-green eyes made even more colourless due to the leaching of hue by the acid flow of venom. He had never used the words quite like so before, although the basic meaning was whispered by adults in euphemistic, innuendo-filled terms, but never directly hurled with that much accusatory spite. The phrase, heard, remembered, and carefully stored up, waiting to be unleashed with all the emotional devastation of a sharp weapon blade to the heart, kept in reserve to succeed, when previously, all else had not. "Did you hear me? Bastard, illegitimate, not fit to associate with decent, normal children," taunted Johnny, reciting the litany in an almost sing-song manner, victory now certain with his victim's weak spot located.

The cold, distant mask had settled back over fine, proud features, ice-blue eyes flickering warningly, the only motion in a face otherwise set in stone. Erek noticed the subtle change, even as his less-experienced "partner" did not, being less wise in the ways of cunning, of holding on to leadership by any means. The grudging respect he had felt for the blond, at the younger boy's laughing reaction in the face of Johnny's ineffectual "sissy-ness", was shifted in another dimension, that of feeling he could prove potentially dangerous, a source of unexpected rebellion and defiance. He could detect and recognise all the signs, the individual hints that added pieces to the larger picture, of this being a possible challenger, a loner who held his ground in opposition to Erek's "rule", albeit not in immediate future. Still, given time, the situation could become confrontational, lead to conflict, as there was just something unnerving about the blond, alien to the normal routine, a deviation in the order, chaotic flux going by the name of one Cloud Strife.

'Best to put it down now, break his spirit, kill the only threat while he's unable to fight back. Even Johnny, who's supposedly the second ringleader of the group doesn't give as much cause for fear as him. Johnny's too spineless…' So it was with this deliberate plan in mind that Erek added his own direction to the insults, casually re-honing the edge of the verbal knife.

"Don't forget, he's just the kid of a prostitute and her man of the hour. Son of a whore." He watched in satisfaction as it hit, right on target, deep turquoise eyes shading into stormy blue and narrowing in anger. As the hate-filled glare was re-directed at him, Erek was slightly taken aback by the intensity of the fury within the pupils. 'Not a moment too soon. Thank goodness I'll get this out of the way now. Midgar knows what he'll be like if this dragged on for a few years.'

"Grab him," he directed Johnny shortly, who had faltered momentarily at the blazing eyes. "He ain't got no father, you moron, no one's going to make a fuss if he gets roughed up!" All too soon, it had degenerated into a mindless repetition of the usual proceedings, Cloud outnumbered, disadvantaged, with no way of blocking, let alone returning, the flurry of punches and kicks, the rain of blows and blood that eventually merged into a bright red haze of pain. Later, it would all be forgotten, the warning hint of passionate defiance lurking under the quiet exterior, the first open contemptuousness at the weak slap, the emotion-laden gaze filled with raw, burning rage; forgotten amidst the sweet taste of success from their victory over the semi-conscious, limp figure at their feet. Johnny would let fade the memory of the dispassionate, scornful indifference to the pain, preternatural glow in empty, cold azure eyes; while Erek's unease would subside and be buried under, not remembering how the icy, logically-reasoning fury had appeared to be a threat. They would have to learn these lessons all over again.//

*** *** *** ***

//He wasn't sure when he realised he was lying on rocky ground, the surface beneath him rapidly cooling due to stones giving up their shallow heat to the air, as the onset of darkness approached. Pushing himself carefully upright, weak, trembling hands seeking leverage against seemingly frictionless ground, made more slippery than usual from the presence of uncustomary moisture… his blood? Shakily regaining his feet, he half-walked, half-fell down the path back home. His mother would be worried, it was near dark, and she did have cause to worry, Cloud grimly reflected. Pausing on his way back to try and clean up, at least get most of the blood off before returning, Cloud hesitated, then quietly entered through the back, hoping to make it up to his room without getting caught.

"You're back awfully late, dear," the anxious voice reached his ears, the reproach causing him to wince, no matter how sweetly delivered.

'No such luck, apparently.' Sighing in resignation, he half-turned towards the source.

"I almost thought you were… Oh." Her voice trailed off as she took in the state of his attire, collar yanked hastily up to cover the worst bruises, dark streaks across his clothes and the especially nasty-looking cut right across his forehead, deep red of congealing blood obvious against the fair skin and sweat-damp blond hair. "It was them again, wasn't it?" Fiercely, protectively, barest hint of anger apparent in his mother's normally controlled tones, the instinctive maternal defence of her brood.

"I'll… I'm just going to wash up first," Cloud made the plausible excuse in as casual a manner as he could muster, then backed away hurriedly, hiding from the haunting, sad look in her eyes.

Later, much later on in the evening, as they took their customary places around the fire, his mother on the rocking chair while he leaned into the reassuring warmth at his back, drawing comfort from the gentle stroking of his hair. "Oh, Cloud," she murmured softly, musical voice on the verge of tears, and that was all it took for the dam to break.

He cried then, letting the salt-sweet liquid flow out from behind long-held barriers, the silent overflow of emotion spilling down. Crawling into her lap, Cloud buried his head into her shoulder, face hidden in hair the same gold shade as his, stifling already-muffled sobs, as the gentle tone which meant she was with him, she was there, penetrated through his mind. Previously, he had pridefully bitten his lip during the fight, betrayed by the first instinctive flinching from the blows, remembering his resolution not to show any sign of cowardice. So it was after that first cry of pain that he had clamped down tightly on his reaction, rest of the punishment accepted without protest, stoic endurance from his refusal to give them the pleasure of knowing he was hurt. But now, hurting inside, he gave in to the shameful weakness of allowing himself to be vulnerable, as arms wrapped around his back soothingly, mother's embrace, mother's love always the place of refuge for her son, always, no matter how old he was or what had happened.

More softly now, tears falling not as a flood but rather, a slight leaking around his eyes, no longer with the same pent-up urgency, weary and drained after the relentless tide had washed the grief, frustration and hurt; feeling completely secure and protected in the tight hold; calming, relaxing. The lightest brush of hands against his shoulders, smoothening down the ruffled hair, following the curve of his spine, then reaching back to rub his forehead, a cool, careful touch that somehow managed to blunt the throb of wounded, tender spots, neutralize the sting of fresh scars, so it faded into a dull, pulsing but tolerable ache.

She couldn't do anything about the acidic words on an all-too sensitive subject, about the desperate yearning for acceptance, denied through no fault of his own. Try as she might, nothing would be able to fully deaden that particular pain, to shield him from it all even as she now physically cradled him protectively against herself. And so she grieved for him, drawing the blond head closer, gazing sorrowfully into the mirror of blue eyes which could have been exact copies of her own, save for the liquid, silvery traces lining azure.//

*** *** *** ***

Every time they mentioned my parentage, I'd walk away, head bowed and cheeks burning with shame and curious pride. There could be no possible retort, nothing could be said to refute it or fight back, just turn and walk wordlessly away…

Drowning in endless hurt, in pain, sense of self submerged under a façade of uncaring for so long… …

I'm losing myself.

*** *** *** ***

Authors notes: (continued)

1) Congratulations, we both successfully navigated through this very long and winding chapter. (I hope it didn't take as much out of you to read it as it took me to write it.) And, yep, same day, same place as the last 6 previous parts. I originally intended to have more ground covered in this part, (at least hopefully get through the morning)but realised that what I planned to include was at least the same length as this part, so the other half will have to be postponed. I hate leaving him in trauma… …

2) Ugh, I'm getting even more guilt here over torturing poor Cloud-kun. I'll make it up later in the next chapter, which should be happier (and hopefully better-written), I promise! (Philosophy: No where else to go but up. *mutters* Now, if only that applied to writing skills… ) There'll be another 2 month break in between, but the continuation should come in about end Nov/early Dec. Reno's going to provide a shoulder to lean on… *nice WAFFy implications dancing around in mind*

3) Subtle anti-Tifa-ness. Nothing to flame about, though. She's more of an airhead than a bitch. Or a slut. (Patience, those come later.) I'm not exactly making her absolutely horrible in this part, she's just a more "self-involved" person, like in the game, where she doesn't exactly notice Cloud around very much.

4) Bear in mind that he's still awfully young in the flashbacks, and that's the reason why he hasn't fought back thus far. It ties in with Chapt 3, which was why they were so surprised then when he finally got pushed into a corner and retaliated. He's essentially still a child, as my beta-reader remarked, acting as one emotionally, although mentally, quite mature. (Besides, I don't think it's strange that someone can still confide in their mom and cry, no matter what age you're at. *Believe me, I know. Remember what I said about "real-life" transferring?* So if it still happens at 16, I don't see anything wrong with when he's 12.)

Ahem. Enough about this. Thanks are long-overdue, and I'm doing it now, since it's past the "birthday" of this fanfiction, and I'm nearing the anniversary for Cloud *dreamy sigh*, and I reached the target of over 100 reviews ~before~ the targeted chapter 10… ^^. Celebrations, both early and late are in order.

Special Recognition Awards: For all the wonderful people out there who bother to hunt me down^^

The Most Consistent reviewer: Dina-chan. *glomps* Thanks for sticking with me for these 1 ½ years. And for all the spork-poking, and pic-bribing that you had to do to nudge me to write.

The others who were in very strong contention for the award:
Knowing Shadows - where's YOUR fic, girl? *grins, her turn to do author-poking*.
Sky - I'm sorry about all the suspenseful background trailers/hints which haven't been explained fully. I'll (hopefully) get to it eventually (perhaps in the next year or so? *sheepish*)
Su Yi - constructive feedback about everything, thanks! (…for advice on formatting, which I suck at.)
Celestina & Neko chan - ... ...I also can't decide on Reno or Seph. ^^;; *decisions, decisions* (Cloud: "... ...")

Long-time friends from the Yahoo ML (Cloud x Sephiroth, everyone!): Lyn, Vireyda
Fox - *snickers* Nice cosplay photos... *wonders if you'll agree more piccy demands*
StormyStrife - I hope she remembers that we're still step/half Sisters-in-Strife. (Don't ask.)
Quatre & Wufei - Owe you both one. (or does that add up to two?): where's Makobabys Anonymous?

The one who put the "fanatic" in fan: Sei-chan. I appreciate it, really... *still in shock over how she read the entire fic, then submitted individual reviews for all 8 chapters. In one ~day~* WOw o.O

Arabwel : the one who finally got me to (re)start the writing process and get off my lazy ass. (feel free to kick me again if I relapse.)
Tongari - who persisted in following up with this fic months of non-posting later. I really didn't realise the last update was 11 Nov 2001, honest!
Canopus: Whom Kiyoshi claims I've corrupted... (heheheh) *innocent laughter*
Blood of Sephiroth/Paws, Suicidal Kitten & Just Insane: don't threaten me, I'll be good and get to work! *jumps into action* (… … scary names o.O)

The regulars:

Fishbomb, Kujakku, ethereal, Sunnie, killaria, tir-synni, Inarae (who said she loved the "Cloud v.NS#1" aka the NemesisStrife version …I love people who agree with me^^), Saki : Fellow Cloud fans, who think he's the best & would rather see him portrayed like he IS: multi-dimensional, intelligent, more edgy...and more aggressive (I'll bet Seph & Reno agree^^)

Tifa-haters who don't mind indulging in ~intelligent~ bashing^^ Rebel, wolfmaiden, Saheen
For putting up and (surprisingly) enjoying indulgent, obssesive description, with pages of synonyms and adjectives but little else...Shi no Tenshi, Saheen, Ilana Sara, koashura

For boosting my ego with claims that this had made it to their top 5/top 10 list... *blush* :youkai, sarina fannel, Peorth, eears (…although I think you go overboard when you say it's the best)
magma - *blinks* to be put on the same fic roll of honour as AHLR? *faints*

All those who just love Sephiroth paired with Cloud: The Seph supporters in no particular order -Caroltrue, Asuka, iczer6, Ash, T'suko, Kaworu Knight, Emerald Embers, Windangel
And the "minority" who prefer Reno-sama involved: Kiti, DarkAngel
(that's not bearing in mind some rather "indiscriminate" people (like me), in the form of: Dina, Celestina, Quatre & Wufei who see nothing wrong with threesomes… *coughs*)

Electra, KaizerFinalFantasy, mew_95, jetonna, Danyella_Kyler_Silverfire, Mikage-chan, Taylor Takahashi, shura, Mikata – people who want me to continue. *happy* In fact I have it on record that they allegedly want more. These are the people who scream "I love it!"

(…not forgetting those who I assume have been reduced to incoherence by the sheer overwhelming long-windedness of the chapters ^^;; - Musashi & SephirothsReflex)

Thanks all. Thank ~you~, for bothering to read to here. (And no, just because this little speech came out here doesn't mean the fic is winding up. There's still a long way to go!)

Read and Review, please. This is my first fic, so be kind! Comments and criticism welcomed.