Chapter 14 – Homecoming

The truck rolled to a stop in front of the pathway that wound into cold and grey Nibelheim. It was now well into spring, but patches of snow continued to cling to the rooftops and the dirt, and the air still tasted sharp with the edges of winter. The muddy brown and hollow streets, the ominous and haunting mountain that loomed above – it all seemed to give the atmosphere a sense of manufactured lifelessness, as if the very soul of the ground and the wind had been meticulously sucked away. In a way, Sephiroth supposed, that statement bore more than a passing resemblance to the truth. Zack often joked from his own experience about how the presence of a mako reactor rendered life in small towns such as Nibelheim and Gongaga utterly inconsequential ("If there's a reactor, that usually means nothing else out there!"), and after travelling to a handful of other similar places throughout his career, Sephiroth found himself inclined to agree.

And yet, there was something else brewing in him at the sight of the wooden buildings, of the water tower that jutted upward from the central square. Sephiroth had to turn the feeling over and over in his mind to be able to properly name it: familiarity. He had seen this landscape before, perhaps in a distant and buried memory, but most certainly from his dreams. Whether by accident or by design, they were here, standing at the setting of his nightmares. These were the homes that had burned under his fingertips, the dirt pathways he had drenched in blood, and when the realization hit him, it felt icier than the dying winter. For a moment, Sephiroth thought of turning back, of running, of hiding, but something unnamed, unknown, kept him rooted to the spot. Inevitability. Resignation. He knew that in arriving at this place, at this moment, he had crossed a line from which there was no return. That now, regardless of what awaited them, of his own desires, it was simply far too late.

(After all, if he could not run from his fate, the next best thing was to rush into it headfirst).

"So, this is Nibelheim," Zack said, joining Sephiroth at the entryway. "Cloud was right. This place looks terrible."

Speaking of Cloud, the Second was behind them, sharing a terse goodbye with the truck driver that had given them a ride from Costa del Sol. The man appeared to know Cloud from his childhood, as he had continuously lavished praise on their "hometown hero," all throughout the journey. For his part, the blond looked a bit embarrassed, and maybe even a little angry. But he said nothing, did nothing, gave nothing away. In fact, Cloud stayed silent, lips pressed in the same tight line that had been present the moment they set out from Midgar. Whatever his true thoughts, they remained sealed away, locked behind the beautiful swirl of his blue eyes.

Finally, the driver gave a wave and headed off, back down the road that curved around the mountain. When the sounds of the engine began to fade from hearing, Cloud stepped up to stand beside them, his boots making soft crunches against the mixture of dirt and snow. It was hard to tell whether he was happy or sad at the prospect of seeing his hometown for the first time in nearly two years, as his expression was unreadable. There were so many things Sephiroth wanted to ask Cloud, so many words that remained unspoken since their bitter exchange three weeks ago. But in the rush of setting up this impromptu cover mission, of helping Kunsel and Cissnei cover their tracks, there had been no time to voice them. And even if there had been a second to spare, Sephiroth was much too fearful to push.

Yet, the sight of Cloud standing in front of Nibelheim's entrance bubbled a strange curiosity within him. Without warning, without control, and without any sense of where it had come from, the question slipped out of Sephiroth's lips, almost before he even realized it.

"How does it feel? To be home after all this time?"

Cloud's eyes flickered to him, their glow brilliant in the fresh air. Surprise. It was the first flash of anything that Sephiroth had seen in him in weeks, but as hopeful as that sign was, nothing actually came out of the blond's mouth. Instead, Cloud merely ducked his head into his jacket and began making his way up the path into town, allowing the silence to hang in the air like an empty noose.

In response, Zack put a hand on Sephiroth's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "Hey, if Cissnei's right and this is where Project S started, maybe this is your hometown, too."

For so many reasons, none of which Sephiroth was ready to name, that statement was not as comforting as the other man intended it to be. Still, with no other options, Sephiroth opted to respond with the truth:

"This does not feel like a homecoming."

There was nothing left to say. Zack turned and started walking and Sephiroth moved to follow. The time was just after noon, but the streets were relatively empty, perhaps because the cold air discouraged people from leaving their warm homes. However, there were still a few curious onlookers watching the party of SOLDIERs as they moved into the central square, and their whispers were brewing beneath their hushed breaths.

(That's Claudia's boy, isn't it? He looks so different!

Those are SOLDIERs. Wow, their eyes really do glow.

Is that the General Sephiroth?)

And then not a whisper, but a call: "Cloud! Cloud!"

It came from young woman with dark hair and sharp crimson eyes, who cradled a paper bag of groceries in her arms. She was dressed in boots and a blue coat, and she had a warm smile on her lips, the kind that gave away an easy and unfiltered affection. Beside her were two other young men, also about Cloud's age, who appeared in both posture and expression to be distinctly less welcoming. In fact, they kept a few paces behind as the girl quickly crossed the square to approach Cloud and their party.

"Hi, Tifa," Cloud said, and it was less the fact that he spoke at all and more how he sounded that drew Sephiroth's attention. For that brief moment, it was as if Cloud had turned back the clock to nearly a year ago, to how he was at the start of the SOLDIER program: awkward, uncertain, unsure. But there was no denying the look of happy admiration in those eyes, nor the flicker of soft fondness folded into the way that he said that name.

(The way he used to say yours, Sephiroth's mind unhelpfully supplied.)

In response, the young woman – Tifa – laughed lightly. She dropped her bag of groceries, and immediately wrapped her arms around Cloud in a tight embrace. "Really? That's all you say to me, after such a long time?"

Cloud's arm gingerly lifted to return the hug. "Sorry. I've been a little busy."

"I heard. You were all over the papers after Junon. People honestly could not believe it."

That statement made Cloud step back, look away. It also finally drew his attention to the two others with Tifa, who were watching the scene the same way that Sephiroth was – with a sense of bewilderment and maybe a tiny hint of resentment (not that the silver-haired man would ever admit to that aloud). The blond nodded, to acknowledge their presence. "Calvin, Roy. Good to see you both."

The one on the left with light brown hair, Calvin, offered his hand to Cloud. "You, too. You look good."

The blond took the hand, and shook it firmly, the way a SOLDIER would. "Thanks."

Tifa smiled again, then glanced over Cloud's shoulder in Sephiroth and Zack's direction. Her eyes widened. "Are you going to introduce us to your friends?" she asked, clearly curious as to why, out of all the places on Gaia, the Demon of Wutai was here in Nibelheim.

Cloud shuffled a little sheepishly, as if caught off-guard by Tifa's directness. Luckily, Zack took it as his cue and stepped up, putting on his dazzling puppy grin. "Hey there. I'm Zack, First Class. And this man here, well, he probably needs no introduction, right, General Sephiroth?"

Sephiroth did not reply.

Tifa watched them, wariness creeping at the edges of her eyes. But if she was nervous or suspicious, she hid it well, instead straightened her back and addressed them directly. "Hi, I'm Tifa Lockhart. This here is Calvin Carter and Roy Keifer. We went to school with Cloud."

"Yeah, we go way back," the one called Roy added.

And it was only because Sephiroth understood Cloud well enough by now that he was able to catch the subtle flinch that struck through the blond's body. His heart ached a little then, because Sephiroth knew, from all the stories Cloud had told, about the way the villagers of Nibelheim treated his family. This sudden and false friendliness was likely a bitter draught for the young man to swallow. But he could not reach out and try and comfort Cloud, not after what had happened between them, not after the blond made it clear that all he wanted from Sephiroth was space.

"Are you on a mission or something?" Tifa asked. She looked at Cloud expectantly and there was no mistaking her flirtatious interest in the blond now.

"Yes. We came to get readings on the reactor," Cloud explained. It seemed whatever feelings he harbored for the girl, he was at least confident enough to stick to the cover story they had crafted.

That had been a necessity, and not just because they needed to avoid arousing Hojo's suspicion. Following Genesis, Angeal and Lazard, the Shinra bureaucratic machine now required Sephiroth to file mission reports up to Heidegger. They therefore needed some excuse plausible enough on paper to buy them time before anyone asked any questions, and the reactor seemed like a perfect fit. What they really came for, however, was Shinra Manor, which Cissnei's research had indicated as the original site of Project S. As for the Turk herself, she, along with Kunsel, elected to remain behind, both to keep an eye on Aerith and to inform them of any potential movements on the part of the Science Department or other Shinra powers, which left the task of unearthing the truth behind the unknown lifeform, the excavated specimen, the source of it all, to the three SOLDIERs.

Still, though Heidegger apparently bought the excuse, Tifa remained suspicious. She pressed on, "Is there something wrong with the reactor?"

At this point, Zack interfered. "No, ma'am. Just some routine maintenance."

Tifa's gaze once again moved to Sephiroth. "They send the General on routine maintenance missions?"

Sephiroth had to hand it to her – she was clever and tenacious, just as much as she was beautiful. No wonder Cloud seemed very fond of her. "If I am unlucky, then yes," Sephiroth stated. He put on his best authoritative air, the one he took on when he gave orders to his men, hoping that it would dissuade the girl from questioning further. "We understand that official protocol would be to contact the leader of a village; however, given that your reactor has not been inspected in years, we felt it was more prudent to skip the normal channels."

There was a small pause, as the words sunk in. But finally, the young woman nodded. "Sorry. I'm the mayor's daughter, so I get curious about these things. But that makes sense. If you need someone to take you up to the reactor tomorrow, I can get the key."

"That would be great, thanks," Zack said. His tone was sharp, an attempt to bring the impromptu investigation to a close.

The girl appeared to take the hint. Tifa looked back at Cloud, again with her soft smile. "Your mom will be happy you're back," she murmured. Then, she stepped forward, adding, "I am too."

Cloud shyly nodded. "Yeah."

She laughed, stooped down to grab her grocery bag. "See you tomorrow then. I'll bring you the key in the morning. Hope you all enjoy your stay in Nibelheim!" And with that, she and the other two men headed back up the path, disappearing behind the shadow of the water tower.

Once she was out of sight, Zack pounced, wrapping his arm around the blond's shoulder. "So, Cloud, who was that?"

"A friend."

"Oh, sure."

The younger man scowled, shoved Zack off. To prevent any further teasing, he refocused on the mission at hand. "Sorry. We might have to make a detour to the reactor, in case other townsfolk get curious. Maybe we should go to the manor tonight then."

"No," Sephiroth said. "Your friend has a point. You should go see your mother. We can go the manor tomorrow."

Cloud looked at him once more, brow furrowed, eyes dark. For a moment, it seemed like he was finally going to say something to him, end this strange and heavy trial of silence. But it was simply Sephiroth's wishful thinking, because then, the moment passed, and Cloud glanced away, turned and left.

A beat followed, as they watched the blond's form retreat. Zack stepped up. "I'll talk to him," he offered. "He's just – he's hurt. And confused."

The General shook his head. "It's alright. He did not sign up for this. He never had a choice."

"Neither did you, Sephiroth. Don't forget that."

Sephiroth looked at his gloved left hand, opened and closed it, imagined the weight of his blade and how it would sing in the air, imagined the tickle of fire sparks dancing on his fingertips, imagined the heat of the conflagration and how it would melt the remains of winter, along with everything else in this town. It was a memory so familiar to him now, despite the fact that it was not a memory he wanted to make real. But he was beginning to think he might not have a choice, and maybe, as Zack suggested, he never really did. And yet, it would not stop Sephiroth from fighting, even if in the end it would change nothing for him.

As long as it would change something for Cloud.

There was always something about Nibelheim that brought out the worst in him, and Cloud hated himself for letting it show. But he could not help it – the way that being back in this town set him on edge, stoked the fires of his inner doubt. The insincere smiles of some of the villagers only made matters worse. It made him all so angry, like he once was as a boy, running from playground bullies and falling on scraped knees. Back then, he had lashed out at his mother, the most important person in his life, and though she never deserved it, she took it with her usual grace and patience (though she would always make him pay for it later via chores and sarcastic comments). This time, he had a new target, though he knew Sephiroth was no less culpable, no less to blame.

Over and over, Cloud kept replaying the last real conversation he had had with the man, the bitterness of his words teasing the back of his throat. It was a mixture of guilt over what he had said and fear of saying anything else that rendered him mute around Sephiroth now. He had thought it was the better course of action. But after seeing the way Sephiroth seemed to crack under the weight of the silence, after sensing his desperation through mysterious tether between them, Cloud realized how utterly wrong he had been. When he had turned away from Zack and Sephiroth, Cloud had done so quickly, simply because he did not want either of them to spot the tears that were welling in his eyes.

He had tried to compose himself before knocking on the door of his old home. But unfortunately for Cloud, even after nearly two years, Claudia Strife still had her sharp eyes and still possessed that keen ability to read him like an open book. As he entered the threshold, she glanced up at him from her seat on the couch, and once they locked eyes, Cloud found that he did not even have to say a word.

"Oh, Stormcloud," Claudia said, standing up and drawing him into a tight hug.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Cloud finally letting the tears fall silently down his cheeks, and Claudia rubbing her arms up and down his back in soothing circles, the same way she always had for him as a child. Except this time, he was no longer a tiny boy curled in her lap, but a young man, towering above her by a few inches. And yet, the familiar comfort was there, seeping into his skin, warming him from the cold.

"You're home now. You're safe," she whispered.

He choked back a sob, and with it, the plea of how much he wished that would be true.

Claudia looked up at him, placing her hand on his cheek. She maybe had one or two wrinkles more than before creasing her forehead, but she was otherwise as bright as ever, in her brown and orange dress and knitted grey socks. "I'll make you some hot chocolate and we can talk, okay? I've finally gotten a hang of that expensive coffee maker you sent over for Yule, and you won't believe how delicious the drinks taste now."

Cloud watched his mother saunter into the kitchen. His eyes then turned to scan the rest of the space. There were plenty of things that remained recognizable: the pictures on the fireplace mantel, the quilt couch cover they had both made together when snowed in during that one terrible winter. But there were also a few new things, like the stove and the dining room table, things that his mother had always wanted to fix up, and things that Cloud could only afford to give her after he had joined SOLDIER. They were odd reminders of the tiny amount of good in his circumstances, woven into the fabric of the fraught mess he now found himself in.

He sat down on one of the new dining room chairs, observed as Claudia fiddled with the various knobs and buttons of that coffee machine (Kunsel had recommended it, saying it was the best on the market, which Cloud later learned meant it was the most complicated). The smell of hot chocolate began filtering through the air, and with it came memories of winter nights huddled by the fireplace, of Yuletide gifts exchanged, of stories and myths his mother used to tell with her gentle and lyrical voice. There was not much he missed from Nibelheim, but this – this he did miss, dearly. And he had not realized how much until his hands started to shake.

"Ma," he said, softly.

Claudia turned to him, two steaming mugs at hand. She placed one on the table in front of him, lifted his trembling hand and pressed it against the warmth. The quiet relief flooded Cloud immediately.

"You can tell me," she said.

"I don't even know where to start."

"Maybe with that new uniform you are wearing. Have I told you how proud I am of you?"

"You and everyone else, apparently."

Claudia laughed in response. "I became the most popular woman in town when your picture landed in the paper. It was very difficult not to tell everyone else where to shove it."

At that, Cloud could not help the smile that began tugging at his lips. He even laughed, as he wiped away the residual tears from his eyes. Gaia, he really did miss her and how safe she made him feel, even in a town that sometimes treated them as less important than the dirt they all walked on.

"Guess you haven't made new friends then," he said.

His mother smiled. "No, not like you have. The General's protégé, huh? That was all you ever wanted."

Involuntary, Cloud's hands tightened around his mug. After all, she was right, and had been witness to his playful admiration of Sephiroth since the man first appeared on the television screen. She had bought him the poster that hung in his bedroom, indulged him when he naively proclaimed that he would join SOLDIER and one day be as strong as famed the General. This was his dream, what was supposed to make him happy. And yet, one small difference transformed that sweet dream into a terrible nightmare.

He kept his eyes firmly on the tendrils of steam rising up from the brown chocolate, watched the smoke wither and fade into the air. The words that came out of him next were soft and small. "I don't know what I want anymore," he said. "And I'm so afraid of making the wrong choice."

His mother regarded him carefully. She asked, with complete fondness, "Well, what does your heart say?"

The tears were returning, the corners of his eyes stinging. There was no point in dodging it anymore. While he knew he could not tell her the full truth, hardly knew it himself, Cloud did not – could not – lie to his mother. So, he let the crux of his fear fall free.

"What if my heart is the problem? What if I can't trust it?"

"What do you have to lose?"

Cloud looked down, away. "Myself. Everything."

His mother paused. Her expression was confused, but nevertheless thoughtful. Claudia reached for his hand, and then, smiled. "Oh Cloud," she said, full of knowing and love. "You should know, there are worse things to lose yourself to than your own heart."

It was clear what she was talking about, and Cloud felt a mixture of guilt and affection grow within his chest. She never once shown an ounce of regret over her circumstances, over the fact that she had given birth unwed and at a young age, had been left to raise a child all on her own, had been ostracized because of it. All of her actions and all of her words poured out love, and never resentment. She had called Cloud her greatest gift. This was her way of reminding him of that.

He curled his fingers around his mother's outstretched hand. As he stroked his thumb over her knuckles, Cloud said, "It might not be that simple."

It was like an itch, her eyes on him, regarding him with a knowing tenderness. The blue was gentle, but strong, full of both care and pride. Out of all the things his mother had given him, those eyes and what they represented were by far Cloud's favorite inheritance. They told the truth, showed that Claudia Strife had steel in her, in her heart, in her backbone. No matter what snide comments or crude jokes or unwarranted harassment the village threw her way, she held her head high and refused to allow anyone to make her feel afraid or ashamed. Even after spending this past year with the strongest men in the world, it would always be his mother's resilience that Cloud would admire the most.

Finally, Claudia replied, "It hardly ever is. But we have to hope for better anyway."

"How can you keep hoping, when things seem to keep getting worse?"

"What other choice is there, Cloud? You only lose when you stop."

He knew that, had always known that, seen that from her example. But that wasn't his problem – instead, it was and had always been the very thing the villagers had tried to convince him was his truth.

"Maybe I'm not strong enough to."

The words hovered silently between them. He thought of Zack and his boundless ability and flowing generosity, of Sephiroth and his quiet determination and unparalleled prowess, of his mother and her refusal to allow anyone control over her joy and her life. Cloud was nothing compared to them, and it showed – because he had cracked the moment something changed, the moment he let the doubt bleed in. All this time, he had been playing at being a SOLDIER hero. In the end, he was nothing.

Suddenly, Claudia said, "Do you remember, when you fell from Mt. Nibel? How many bones you broke, how many days of school you had to miss?"

Cloud looked askance at her, uncertain of why she was choosing to bring up what was decidedly a very unhappy memory for them both. "Yes. Why?"

"Because," his mother said. "I meant to tell you how proud I was of you."

Cloud let his eyes widen with shock. "Proud?"

"Tifa was hardly injured at all. You held her, protected her, took the force of the fall. When you finally recovered and walked throughout town and everyone accused you of leading her up there, you said nothing, you never blamed her," she explained. Then, she levelled her gaze, as if to ensure that the message she was about to convey would hit its mark. "You showed such a strength then, and I was too afraid and fearful and angry about losing you that I had forgotten to tell you how proud I was of you."

Something was lodging in Cloud's throat, and he was not sure what, but all he could do in response was let out a soft sob.

Claudia continued, "You say you aren't strong enough, and that's where you are wrong. I know, because you were only a kid then and I had never seen anything more amazing. I know, because you are a Strife, Cloud. Our hearts were always made for the sterner stuff."

Cloud closed his eyes, let out a long breath. Could he believe that? Was he strong enough to? His mother seemed to think so. Even without asking for further details, it was like she could sense the flow of his thoughts. No matter how stubborn he was being or how much time had passed, she would always be the one that knew him best. And if she believed, and if she was right – well, Cloud knew what his heart really wanted, had always wanted from the start.

"He's here, you know," he said, feeling the color rise in his cheeks. His mother would have definitely caught the blush. "The General, I mean. Along with my other friend, Zack."

A single blond eyebrow rose. Claudia clapped her hands with playful finality. "Well, then. I hope your friends like Nibel wolf stew."

He smiled, brought the chocolate mug to his lips, tasted the sweetness and the warmth. "Yeah, I hope so, too."

Because he had to. Because she was right. There was no other choice. For Zack. For Sephiroth. For himself. Cloud had to hope, had to have the strength to. Hope that they would find the truth, hope that it would set them free.

But first, he realized, and not without a massive sense of guilt, he had to hope that Sephiroth would forgive him.

The house appeared exactly as Cloud had described – small, quaint, charming, and warm. It felt oddly familiar, though Sephiroth supposed that had more to do with the person who grew up here than the space itself. And yet, despite that or maybe because of it, he was nervous. The anxiety had begun bubbling within him shortly after that unexpected text from Cloud, asking for their presence at dinner. Zack proclaimed that this was a good sign and had switched from concerned to excited. But based on Cloud's behavior over the last few days, Sephiroth was less than optimistic.

"So, are we just standing here, or are we going to knock?" Zack said, staring at him with distinct amusement. Since that message, the Lieutenant had been teasing him all afternoon, providing a crash course in meeting the parents, which involved summarizing some famous comedy movies and highlighting the typical tropes. Normally, Sephiroth would have appreciated the young man's attempts at humoring him, but Zack had unknowingly touched upon another personal sore point – the fact that he had little to no knowledge about how to act in these perfectly normal human situations. The only reason he knew that this was an important occasion was because he understood how much Cloud's mother meant to the blond. It was enough basic comprehension to surmise that he ought to make a good impression, but the problem was that Sephiroth had no idea of where to begin.

He supposed actually knocking on the front door was a good place to start. Sephiroth lifted his hand, tapped lightly on the wood, and immediately heard a scuffling of footsteps from within the house. Two voices exchanged some murmured words – one male, one female. But before he could attempt to make out what they were saying, the door swung open, and Cloud, dressed in a casual navy sweater and jeans, peered up at him with his blue eyes.

"Hi," Cloud said.

Whether it was the fact that that had been the first real word Cloud had spoken to him since their awful fight, or the reality that looking into those eyes would never fail to steal his breath – either way, Sephiroth found himself speechless in response.

Behind him, Zack conspicuously coughed. He stepped up to rescue Sephiroth from his embarrassment. "Hey. Nice home, Cloud."

Cloud ducked his head. "It's all my mom's doing, really." He moved aside, opened the door a little wider. "Won't you come in?"

They crossed the entrance, walked into an open space – a living room with a couch placed in front of a fireplace, and a kitchen with a wooden dining table and four matching chairs. The scent of something hearty and savory wafted in the air, sourced from the large pot simmering on the stove. And there, standing in the kitchen, with a brown apron draped over her orange dress, was a woman that looked nearly like Cloud's mirror image.

"There you boys are," she sang, wiping her hands on a towel and turning to regard them. The twinkle in her eyes was disarming, both in its ease and in its warmth. "Hope you're hungry!"

Zack grinned. "Wow, Cloud. I didn't know you had a sister."

"Shut up," Cloud said.

The woman smiled, traversed kitchen to meet them at the entrance of the living room. "I'm Claudia, Cloud's mother. I'm assuming the charming puppy must be Zack, which means you—" and at that, she gazed right up at Sephiroth, with absolutely no fear nor malice, "—must be the General Sephiroth."

The directness of the approach was a bit alarming, nearly throwing Sephiroth off his guard. But he tried his best to keep the anxiety controlled, instead focused on actually making use of his voice. He cleared his throat, extended his hand to the woman. "Yes. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Strife."

"It's Claudia," she replied, and the strange echoes of a former conversation ("You can call me Cloud, sir, if you want to.") resounded in his head. The resemblance was uncanny. She took his hand and shook it firmly, adding, "No reason for formality between friends, after all."

Zack smirked. "The General is a military man. He's hardwired that way."

Cloud rolled his eyes. "Then what the hell happened to you?"

"I think I might have skipped that training session or missed that memo."

"Figures."

"Boys," Claudia interrupted, a sweetly authoritative undercurrent in her voice. She crooked her brow, amused, tilted her head toward Sephiroth. "I have no idea how you manage to handle these men, General. Seems like it would tax your sanity."

There was some part of Sephiroth that recognized the joke, knew it was an attempt to break through the awkward introductions, to signal that he was welcome. But even with that knowledge, he had no idea how to react. It reminded him of his first interactions with Genesis and Angeal, how lost he had felt trying to navigate the space between their easy intimacy. Though they did their best to make him feel included, had arguably succeeded to a surprising degree, the reality that Sephiroth was some alien intruder in their relationship would never leave him. He truthfully and simply did not belong.

But it would not do for Claudia to see all that. So, in response, Sephiroth just nodded.

Once again, Zack moved to fill the void. "Did you need any help with dinner, Claudia?" he said, tone chipped and light to cover over the silence.

For her part, Claudia seemed to understand. She stepped away from Sephiroth, fixed her smile on Zack. "Yes, that would be lovely, if you wouldn't mind joining me in the kitchen." But at that, her gaze shifted to her son, and there was something exchanged between the two sets of blue eyes that Sephiroth could not decipher. It suggested a secret plan, a quiet conspiracy, and it made him all the more nervous.

Then, Cloud spoke up, and the nerves threatened to balloon to a full grown panic. "Sephiroth, do you mind coming with me? We can go get wood for the fireplace."

Out of fear, out of sadness, and maybe out of anger, Sephiroth wanted to say no. But he knew enough to understand that that would not be an appropriate response. And there was something about Cloud's expression, soft and promising, so much more like the Cloud he had gotten used to spending lazy weekends with, kissing amongst the sofa cushions, and less like the one that had been maintaining frosted distance over the last few days. It made Sephiroth's heart ache.

"That's a great idea," Zack said. He added, softly, "Glad to see you are feeling a bit better, Cloud."

The blond shifted his gaze down to the floor, a quiet apology. That seemed to be enough for Zack, who responded with his own dip of the head, his own silent acknowledgement.

And Claudia did not miss a beat. She offered a fond, encouraging smile to her son, then clapped her hands, like a clocktower bell signaling the start of a new day. "Alright. Now that that is settled. Zack, to the kitchen. We'll see you two in a few."

Sephiroth watched the two of them walk toward the stove, then turned his attention back to Cloud. The younger man was looking at him apprehensively, and at the sight, the General could feel once more the dread that had begun building since he had received that text invitation. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Perhaps he should say so aloud, take his leave, maintain the distance. After all, that seemed to be what Cloud needed most, right?

And yet, when Cloud moved forward, took his hand, weaved his fingers through his, and whispered, "Please," Sephiroth found himself utterly unable to refuse.

So, he followed the blond, out the back door of the house, across the yard toward the barn. In front of its painted doors were a few piles of chopped wood, some bundled neatly together with brown twine. He expected Cloud to stoop down and pick one such bundle up, so they could head back into the house, but instead, the young man spun on his heel, faced Sephiroth directly, pinned him to the spot with those dazzling eyes.

"I figured we should talk" Cloud said, suddenly, quickly. "Though I know that our last conversation did not end so well."

Sephiroth tried to steady his heartbeat, tried to steady his entire body and his racing mind, steel himself for more. Another barbed accusation, another painful truth. "Yes," he said, slowly, carefully. "But it was…understandable."

Cloud furrowed his brow. "What exactly did you understand?" he asked.

This was a question he did not want to respond to, for speaking the answer aloud would bring forth the truth of Sephiroth's existence. From Gast, to Ilfana, to Angeal, to Genesis – everyone he had come to care for eventually left. The expanse Cloud had been constructing between them made it clear that it was what the blond wanted, too, only there was something false and cruel that Hojo had done keeping them chained together. And as much as Sephiroth wanted to hold on, he could not do so, not to Cloud, not to the man that he –

Sephiroth pushed forward. If Cloud would admit to wanting to leave him now, it would be alright. Pain was at least an old and familiar friend.

"I understand that this was not what you asked for," he said. "That this was not what you wanted. Please be rest assured that I will do my best to figure out what happened to you, and how to reverse it. Then, you will be free."

(From me, went unspoken).

Cloud sucked in air, sharp and gasping. Sephiroth waited, for a reply, for the separation, for the severing. But instead, the blond stepped into him, pressing his face into Sephiroth's chest, wrapping his arms around Sephiroth's torso.

"I did a terrible thing, didn't I? To make you think that…I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for all of it."

What?

He had not been expecting this. Cloud's words filtered through his mind, like streetlights through a foggy night. It did not make sense. This did not make sense.

"You do not need to apologize," Sephiroth replied, nearly paralyzed with confusion. "It was my fault. I should have protected you."

"It wasn't your fault. I was the one that was weak, that was afraid. And I never should have taken it out on you. It was unfair."

He was sure his heart was thundering loudly, sure that Cloud could hear it, and it made him all the more embarrassed, ashamed. "You've already offered so much of your strength, indulging my weaknesses. To ask for more from you – that would be unfair."

Those arms squeezed him tighter, more desperately. Cloud raised his head, looked at Sephiroth now, tears brimming in his eyes. "But what if I want to?"

No, Sephiroth thought. Do not offer me that hope. For he knew he would take it, if he could. He would take it, and it would be the end of Cloud. The list of names, the piles of bodies, scattered throughout every moment of his life – it was all proof of that. No, it would be better for Cloud to leave him, before he had an opportunity to cause him further harm.

"You shouldn't," the silver-haired man replied, though he could not bring himself to pull back from the embrace. "I have caused you enough trouble. I should stay away. I should—"

Then, Cloud grabbed the lapels of his jacket and tugged him down for a fierce and full kiss.

It was like electricity, like the relief of fresh water, like the spark of warm flame. It coursed through them, igniting the tether their heads, sending fireworks through their minds, their souls, their hearts. The feeling was just as intense as that moment he had grabbed Cloud's arm in the training room, except instead of being overwhelmed with a desire to possess, to own, Sephiroth simply wanted to fall. At the touch of those lips, whatever self-control he had, whatever resolve he had willed himself to maintain, melted into nothing. He leaned forward, grasped at Cloud's waist, pushed the blond back against the wall of the barn, and kissed him, again and again and again. There was no moment for breath, no moment for anything at all, except this – because this was all he had ever wanted.

And in between kisses, Cloud whispered his name like a spell. "Sephiroth, Sephiroth," and that was it.

He dipped his head, bit lovingly into the column of the blond's throat just above the neck of the sweater, felt the thrill straight through his body at the moan Cloud gave in response. Smaller hands traveled up his back, burying their fingers into his silver locks of hair. As Sephiroth continued to nip at the exposed flesh, Cloud kept murmuring, gently, "I'm so sorry. I swear. I'm so sorry."

"Enough, Cloud," Sephiroth said, his lips trailing up that neck, to the jaw, to the ear, back to that mouth. He swept his tongue over the blond's lips, a whisper for permission. Cloud freely gave it, and the taste was like the sweetest thing Sephiroth had ever experienced in his life. It was nearly too much, and it made Sephiroth wonder how he had even survived the last weeks, deprived of this wonder, this kiss.

Finally, they broke for air, and Sephiroth was about to dive back in, when he heard the sob, felt the wetness slip down Cloud's cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Cloud said again, glancing down, away. "I'm sorry. I'll do better. I'm sorry."

Sephiroth tucked his hand under Cloud's chin and lifted that gaze to meet his. "Just promise me one thing," he said, gently swiping a finger to wipe away a tear.

"Anything."

"That you won't leave me."

Those eyes glowed, defiant, proud, beautiful, like they had in his dreams, like they had so many times over the course of this past year. Even after all this time, Sephiroth knew he would never get tired of being lost in that blue. He would drown in it happily, willingly, truly.

"I promise you. I'll never leave you," Cloud said, and then shifted upward for another kiss.

But their lips met only for the briefest of moments, because another voice, delighted, and full of laughter, cut through their bliss.

"This is an interesting method of gathering firewood, I'll say, right, Mama Strife?"

A happy giggle, followed by, "Indeed."

An altogether different type of panic shot through Sephiroth now. He stepped back, released Cloud, straightened himself upright like he was taught to by his drill instructors in his youth. Meanwhile, Cloud let out a strangled noise that sounded oddly like a howling chocobo and covered his face with his hands to hide the obvious mortification.

"Ms. Strife," Sephiroth started.

"It's Claudia, remember? Definitely no more need for formality, especially since you've had your tongue down my son's throat."

There was something close to a blush rushing over Sephiroth's face now, but he tried to keep as calm as possible. Luckily, Cloud regained enough of his own composure to speak out.

"Oh, Gaia, Ma," the blond groaned.

Claudia only grinned in reply. "We just came to get you, since dinner's now ready," she said. She let her eyes bounce back and forth between her son and Sephiroth, scanning for more information, for something. Evidently, whatever she found, she seemed pleased by, because her tone became all the fonder and all the more amused. "I have to say, Stormcloud, he's even more handsome than the poster you have in your room."

"Ma, please!"

Another joke that Sephiroth managed to understand, but this time, his reasons for failing to respond were different. Because there was another fact about Cloud revealed in that sentence he was more interested in.

"Stormcloud?" he asked.

Cloud sighed. "Nope. Not the time for that. Ma, let's go. I'll set the table." The blond began marching back to the house, grabbing his laughing mother by the wrist to drag her back with him. Despite his clear embarrassment, he did spare a moment to glare at Zack, who only barked out laughter in response.

As Sephiroth watched the Strifes walk away, he pressed a hand to his own chest, in an attempt to quiet his hammering heart. There was no doubt that his anxiety was through the roof now, but there was something else growing, something much warmer, much safer, less threatening. It only took him a moment longer to realize what it was – that promise. It would be something he would hold onto, no matter what, even if he managed to humiliate himself beyond recognition over this dinner. Though, based on the smile on Claudia's face, for the first time in weeks, he had a feeling that perhaps he was going to be alright.

And yet, that still did not stop Zack from slinging an arm over his shoulder and gracing him with the most shit-eating grin he had ever seen before. "Gaia, that was the greatest thing ever. This makes me feel so much better about the time I met Aerith's mom. So, so much better."

Sephiroth only rolled his eyes.

Unbeknownst to them all, a figure stirred from shadow of the barn. It had watched the scene before him with mako blue eyes filled with curiosity, shock, and realization.

He supposed should have known earlier, from the papers, the magazine articles, the talk. After all, the surprisingly small SOLDIER had been the one to foil his plan at Junon. But there was a part of him that could not believe it, could not comprehend that Sephiroth, cold, calculating, inhuman Sephiroth, was capable of forming that deep of an attachment to anyone. And yet, there it was, the opening he was waiting for, the irrefutable proof.

Sephiroth's weakness.

Somehow, the sight of it hurt, though he rationalized it as a symptom of his degradation, the residual aches of the wounds that now refused to heal. But that hardly mattered anymore. For he had a plan, and this time, he was now armed with something that would guarantee the outcome he had been working for. This time, he would not fail.

Genesis stepped back into the darkness.