Well, I'm back again. A big thanks to all my reviewers. You guys are so nice to me! Thanks! Well, anywayz, this chapter may be a wee bit confusing. I'm just going off the idea that Yazoo and the others were cloned. Yeah, just me?

Chapter III

"We don't want to hurt you. We want to help you."

His eyes widened. He couldn't stop them. He hardly even noticed them growing to twice their normal size. Noise dulled, and shapes swam together again. This couldn't... why was this happening?

"We want to help you. We don't want to hurt you."

They never did. Never wanted to do anything but help. Of course they didn't want to hurt him. Why would they want to hurt him? No, those small rivers of red weren't blood. They wouldn't draw blood. They were testing him. Testing his strength. And no, those dark purple patches weren't brusies. Why would they want to mark him like that? No, that was a test as well. Always a test. Always to help him. Never to hurt him. Oh no, they wouldn't do that.

His body went numb as blind panic seized him.

Get out! That thought swam clear as his mind became blank. Get out now!

He could get out. He'd done it once before. But he'd been in better shape then. And he'd known that area like the back of his hand. Known all possible exits. And Cloud hadn't been there then.

But he couldn't think about that now. He refused to think about that now. He sprang to his feet with none of his usual mannered grace. One of his legs threatened to give out under his weight, but he couldn't, wouldn't, let it. His hair hung in a static mess around his face, dangerously limiting his vision.

He shook his head and leapt foreward, dancing around a young female who'd chosen to lunge at him. He just had to get past them. Get away from them and then concentrate on finding a door. Just get past them, and avoid Cloud. He had to stay as far away from his big brother as possible. Because Cloud... Cloud was the one... he swallowed hard, forcing any thoughts of the recent events from his mind. It wouldn't do to think of that when surrounded by these people.

Another person chose to take a grab at him. And in dodging that person, he staggered backwards and almost fell over young girl who seemed to think it wise to stand in the middle of a fight. His already sore leg buckled and he lurched foreward, swallowing his pained gasp.

But all he had to do was get back up. Get his leg back under him. He needed to get back up. He didn't want them to 'help' him. He didn't want to be back there. He knew he was merely a remnant. He knew he'd been made. But did that give them the right to use him? To hurt him? Did that really give them the right to hold the lives of him and his brothers as their personal play things? He wanted to get out. He barely earned his freedom the last time.

But... his brothers weren't here now. Did he really have a reason to get out?

No! He couldn't think like that. If he really deserved to die, it wouldn't be here. He shook his head and tried to force his leg to move. But before the limb had even jerked, two pairs of strong hands wrapped around each of his arms, pinning him down.

Panic seized him again and he jerked wildly. Just get out. Get away. But it worked out the way it always had. They always pinned him in the end. They always got him in the end. He wasn't getting away this time. Maybe never. His body went slack, he'd used up all the strength in his slender frame. He hadn't had much to begin with and now the adrenaline had worn off. His head dipped, fresh blood running through a curtain of silver hair.

It always worked out this way. But Loz wasn't quitely sobbing in the corner this time. Loz never would again. Kadaj wouldn't mock anymore. He bit back his tears. It would end just the way it started. It always did.

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Cloud had not expected this. He hadn't even expected Yazoo to wake, let alone go crazy. And if it had just been him and Tifa, they probably wouldn't have caught him. Then again, if the others weren't here, then he probably wouldn't have lost it in the first place.

Slowly, he approaced Yazoo. The slim frame resembled a doll in between Cid and Barret's bulk. He'd expected a struggle to kick up again, not for the slim frame to fall slack. But the entire frame lost its tenseness, silver hair spilling around his face, tangled and dirty.

He reached foreward and pushed the thin tresses away from the strange eyes. They glared at him, half-lidded. A strange half smile curled on his lips.

"Don't cry, Big Brother..."

Tears. There were tears pricking his eyes. And he didn't know why. He couldn't understand why. Why would he be crying? Startled, he drew back. Yazoo's smile widened. And then his eyes slid closed once more.

Cloud cupped the small face. "I'm not crying. And I'm not your brother." But he couldn't say the words to Yazoo's face. Not to something ... someone so fragile. The words congealed in his throat, a lump not unlike that caused by suppressed tears. Why? Why did this ... child ... create the same feelings in him as Marlene and Denzel and the others? He was an enemy, he'd tried to kill him. Why did it matter so much that Yazoo was hurt and afraid, and all of him and his friends?

Oh, it didn't matter. Not now, anyway. He'd find out later. When Yazoo was conscious again. And healed enough to think clearly, and not panic and try to run. Then again, once healed he might try to run anyway, and succeed. Why could nothing be simple?

"Vincent. Tifa. Help me with him?"

Well? Is it any good? Please tell me?