Author's Notes: I sometimes wonder if I do these little blurbs just to make up for ineffably short chapters (did I even use that word right? I can't tell, I'm tired). I forgot to say - y'all's support has REALLY helped me out over these past few bitchy-ful days. I loathed either the site or the Internet connection for quite a while there, because I seriously wasn't sure which one to blame...

Now unfortunately, somewhere along the way, I lost most of chapter 40 and all of chapter 41 because my computer was a bastard and didn't save right, so when you read the end of 40, it might be a little choppy, because I was in a rush to get it all back. But generally, I remembered almost exactly what I wrote, so there was close to no change. Sorry, guys!

Chapter 39

"Coming To Terms, The Elder"

Monday Evening, September Ninth

Eighteen Days Missing

"Ashamed" didn't quite cover it. He was more than ashamed—he was also hurt, embarrassed, angry, and flustered. Not just at himself, but also at Sephiroth. But at the moment, it was upon himself that he shouldered these blames.

Tangled up in his own sheets, still panting, clutching his pillow like it was his own lover, Cloud was red-faced and his nether parts still felt sticky, and he stared at his own white-covered hand before clenching it in a fist and punching the pillow he held. Just because he'd picked up on the trick didn't mean it wouldn't work—unfortunately, Sephiroth was the first and best in his mind—he was more like a drug now than a lover. Also unfortunately, the bastard had cut Cloud off at a time when he'd been extremely horny, and now his mood was thrown off, and he was grumpy, and tired, and craving real sex. He shook his fist in front of his face, glaring at it like a father scolding his child.

WHY? WHY must you betray me? WHY can't you stay still? Addressing the self-pleasuring hand like it was a curse, Cloud punched the pillow again and growled loudly into it, imagining Sephiroth's face. It was so childish of him, and yet, it fit. Not even half a week since he'd heard Sephiroth's announcements of, "No, I'm not in the mood," and already he was jerking off in the late hours of the night like a horny teen. This wasn't normal. Maybe it wasn't that Sephiroth had cut him off at all; maybe it was that Sephiroth had cut him off when Cloud had been planning to make a romantic, sexy night for the two of them, after several tense days of nothing but arguing—maybe that was what had made him this way.

However it had gotten to this point, he was still mad at himself for so easily succumbing to such a simple trick. Even worse was that he now realized no matter how much Sephiroth would do this to him in the future, he would probably cling to him like a child—like an orphan—and beg for him to come back. The worst highlights of his moods were when he was able to not only analyze and pinpoint the problem, but to also tack it on himself and accept it as truth. It was those times when he hated the truth the most.

Cloud sighed and turned over onto his back, flinging the covers off, and then heading for the shower so that he could clean up. Luckily, the sheets didn't have much of a mess. His stomach, however, was another story.

Sister Rosalyn. Cloud suddenly found himself thinking of the kind woman who raised him. What would Sister Rosalyn think of me now? This made him frown and made his brow crease in deep thought as he turned the showerhead on and changed the temperature to lukewarm. He didn't feel like a hot shower, and he hated cold ones. As he lathered some shampoo into his hair, for no other reason other than to prolong his time under the water, the simplest things from his youth came back to him in flashes. Sister Rosalyn's face was in almost every one of them, smiling, laughing, encouraging him forward on the path he wished to take. Even when they had gone hiking one time, Cloud had wanted to go a different way than the rest of the group, and he remembered Rosalyn's words, clear as a bell:

"Why don't you want to go on this path, Cloud?" said Sister Rosalyn. "It's a nice, cool day, and the season makes the trees look pretty."

"I know!" Cloud said, pointing to a fork in the road which was overgrown with forest and was clearly long-forgotten. "That's why I want to go down here. There are more trees down here." Several shouts and boos followed this as the rest of the group disagreed.

"What if there are bears?" asked one girl Cloud disliked in particular.

"Yeah, what if the girls scream and go running?" said another boy, one Cloud was rather partial to. Hearing him disagree with his proposal somehow made him feel a little shot down.

Sister Rosalyn put her hands on Cloud's shoulders then, as the blond was now looking quite dejected, and the rest of the children began to wander off, though not entirely too far. She bent down, her habit shading Cloud's eyes from the Autumn sun as she spoke in a whisper:

"Don't be upset, Cloud. Not everyone likes to walk the same trail. If we did, we would all be like sheep."

Cloud was still pouting with his childish pink lips and crossed his arms with a huff. Sister Rosalyn gave him a hug.

"In fact, I think that it's good that you're so adventurous. I think you've picked a fine trail."

"Yeah, but nobody else thinks so," Cloud grumbled. Here Sister Rosalyn chuckled warmly.

"You can't always change people's minds, Cloud." She messed up his hair, and he preened it back into place when she was done with his brow furrowed in concentration. "Just remember, Cloud: when you grow up, you'll see that not everyone walks the same path. Some go one way, and some go the other—and sometimes, those paths won't always be good ones—but each one will be unique in some fashion, very distinctly. Small enough that it seems unimportant, but it in fact makes all the difference in the world. Like your path."

Here she waved her graceful hands towards it, making Cloud's wide blue eyes stare at it and want to walk through the growth to look for snakes and critters.

"The only difference I see here is that this one has more trees. But they're very beautiful trees." Cloud turned around with a grin on his face, looking hopeful.

"So does that mean you'll let me go through it?" he asked. Sister Rosalyn's smile was kind, but apologetic.

"No, Cloud, not today. But maybe another time, I'll take us out, just you and me. Then you can come back here and walk through the trees."

Cloud opened his eyes after the replay was done in his head, and after the shampoo had been washed out of his hair. Paths. Paths. Different paths. It was no secret that Sister Rosalyn was always teaching him something; every day was somehow a new lesson. She'd told him that not everybody walked the same path. She'd also told him, later on, that sometimes those paths might overlap, but that they might not necessarily stay together. And that when two people separate, it isn't healthy for either of the two people to hold on for far too long.

It was a lesson in letting go.

Cloud frowned. It bothered him a little that that particular lesson would stick out to him so much at a time like this. It was telling him something, but it wasn't something he was ready to consider just yet. Maybe it was true—perhaps Sephiroth just wasn't meant to stay with him. Perhaps some weird, cruel twist of fate was going to pull them apart soon. But Cloud didn't want that; not yet. He wanted answers first—why his lover acting so strangely, and why all this was happening in such a sudden whir.

Yet again, Cloud hated the truth the most. He sighed under the waterspray as he worked some conditioner into his golden locks of hair.

When the time is right, I'll let it slide, he thought, But until then, I want to hold on.

But when would the time be right?