Warnings: Language and whatever images your mind produces

Chapter 7. Summoning the Muse

As Cloud neared the cottage he noticed a person standing and looking at the building. He approached cautiously but caution disappeared when he recognized the figure. He was in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, of average height, slim, with darkish hair standing up every which way.

"Dad?"

"Hey, Raincloud," Damon Strife responded. Then he turned and saw his son, "Oh hey, I guess I can't call you that. This is Corporal Strife at the ready, I see."

Cloud looked down over himself and, sure enough, he was in full battle dress including the materia bracer the General had given him earlier. This was bewildering, he decided, so he would ignore it in favour of a more urgent question, "What are you doing here, Dad?"

"Just checking out your home," The older man turned back to the building. "You've done a good job building it. Strong enough to weather the worst storms. Even if the structure's destroyed you've got a good foundation. You'll be able to rebuild. Your grandmother would be proud of you."

Cloud had been examining the cottage as his father spoke. It looked ordinary to him, like every second building in Nibelheim. It had fitted Nibel stone, oak doors and shutters; it looked sturdy enough. His last sentence jerked him out of his bemused assessment. "My grandmother?" He'd never met his grandmothers, any of them. There'd never been enough money to go visit.

"And that's a shame, son, she could've taught you a lot." His father seemed to be responding to something he was sure he hadn't said aloud. Had he said it aloud? And what had his grandmother, any of them, to do with his father being here in this place. Wherever this place was.

Damon Strife turned to face away from the cottage, "Nice setting you picked, Corporal." He looked around, suddenly seeing a landscape. It wasn't Nibelheim. It was maybe somewhere around Costa del Sol? The trees looked similar to the ones he'd seen around the resort town on his way through to Midgar. It had been nice there, sunny but not scorching.

He looked at the cottage again. It could've been transplanted direct from any village in the Nibel Mountains. What was it doing here? For that matter...

"Dad," Cloud was confused, "why are you here?" he asked again.

"I told you, I wanted to see your home. You going to invite me in, son?" He smiled and Cloud, who hadn't seen that smile in over ten years, felt his heart shatter. Blindly, he nodded, and reached out to grab the handle on the door. 'Funny,' he thought, 'I don't remember a handle.' They walked in side-by-side and he realized that they were the same height. He'd always thought of his dad as a giant, but maybe that was because his personality had been so large. He wasn't crying but his throat was tight and his eyes were burning. He didn't have time to cry; he just wanted to imprint this picture of his father, alive and happy.

He watched his dad look around, but Cloud didn't care about the inside of the cottage, His father looked so young, Cloud thought sadly. He wasn't tall but he was lean, his eyes were bright blue, and his hair was thick and untamed; seeing his father so healthy Cloud realized that he'd inherited those features from him. Most of his memories of his dad are of him in bed, skinny, eyes dull and hair thin and lank. His parents had had very little time together before, before he got sick. Barely ten years. He wished he remembered more of them together.

"I see you kept your mother's books. Oh look, there's my guitar," Cloud had just vague memories of his father playing the instrument but he could clearly remember his mother pulling it out and stroking it, looking sad and happy at the same time.

Damon Strife walked around the generous room, trailing his fingers over the walls. He walked a little like Zack. "It's a little bare, isn't it, Corporal?"

"What," Cloud moved his gaze to the walls. "Umm, I guess."

"Well, you are going to invite friends in, aren't you? People you care about. It's a good place structurally, it'll certainly keep them safe, but will it keep them warm?"

"I, uh," he frowned, blinking. This was a dream, wasn't it? Why should he be worried about friends visiting his dreams?

"You do have friends – your General and that bouncy First. You want to protect them, right?"

"You know I do." How did his father know about them, and why was he calling General Sephiroth his General? His father couldn't know... could he?

This was such an odd dream. He could remember his dad trying to teach him to fish. Why wasn't he dreaming about that?

"It's too cold to fish. Besides, this isn't a dream, Corporal, not really. This is the haven of your soul, and you need to brighten it up. Your life can't be this dull and boring. Put hangings on the walls, rugs on the floor. You need a couch to sit on or beds to sleep in. Some music, maybe, and a fireplace to sit in front of and relax. How about some games to play to pass the time? You need to really make it your home, inside and out, before there's an emergency."

"I guess," he was still bewildered. "How do I do that?" Could he dream up the decorations? Could he be dreaming a dream where he's in a dream of dreaming? He smiled at the thought, it fit perfectly in this bizarre place.

"It's only bizarre if you think it is, son." His father smiled, and ruffled the pointy hair his son had inherited from him. "Now to decorate: visualize what you'd like to have in your home and put it out there." Cloud just frowned. Dreaming is an involuntary reflex. How can you deliberately dream something into existence?

His father sighed, "What would you really like to see on your wall, right here." He pointed to a section near the door. "Anything you like."

"Anything?" When his father nodded Cloud thought, oh, well that was easy. He knew what he wanted, had wanted ever since he'd seen it at the Midgar Museum.

"Hang it up now, son." On the wall, maybe a half the size of the original was a silk tapestry of the Wutaian god, Leviathan. A recreation of an ancient hanging, it portrayed a god on guard, quiescent for now but ready to protect and defend its people against all threats.

"Oh, I like it. It suits you, Corporal." He stood, hands on hips, nodding his head in approval before turning back to Cloud who was staring open-mouthed at the decoration. "Finish it up before you go, son. You never know when you and your friends will need shelter from the storms." Damon Strife walked toward the door.

"Are you leaving, Dad?"

"I am. I'm going to go check on your mother, make sure she's doing okay."

"But–" he protested.

He walked back to Cloud and put a hand on his shoulder, "You'll be fine, Corporal Strife. You have good friends. You have a purpose. You'll be better than fine." He placed a gentle kiss on his son's brow then headed toward the door. Cloud wanted to protest, to stop him from walking out, from leaving again. One last look, "I love you, son, and I am so very proud of you."

Cloud's face was wet. He was crying. "I love you too, Dad." With a short wave and a soft smile, Damon Strife left his son's home, fading out before reaching the door. Cloud watched, hoping he would reappear but knowing he wouldn't, until, finally, he turned to his empty home and decided he'd start with a fireplace, with lots of apple wood so it would smell nice.

He wondered if Sephiroth had ever smelled apple wood burning.

It was his stomach that woke him up. It seemed to think it needed food, even though he had distinct memories of consuming mounds and kilos of food just the evening before. Besides, he didn't want to move, it was too comfy where he was. He was all warm and snuggled right into friendly arms. Wonderful way to wake up. Flat chest though, so it wasn't perfect, but it was still good.

Unfortunately, he now had to go pee as well.

'Screw it,' he thought and bounced out of bed. He stood beside the huge surface they'd slept on, stretching and cracking his spine, while he looked down on his friends.
Sephiroth was spooned up right close to the small blond. The look on his face said he was thinking all manner of wonderfully unseemly thoughts. It was a new look for the man and Zack decided it looked good on him. Fuck. He hoped, he really hoped, the two of them would make it as a couple.

They had a lot against them. Shin-Ra brass would go monkey-nuts at the idea of the General Sephiroth and a lowly corporal. There was the age difference, nearly ten years, the brass would proceed to bat-fuck over that, and the media would be relentless. Of course all that presupposed that they made it out of Nibelheim alive and reasonably sane. So far the chance of that was looking pretty good, actually.

Cloud was flexing his hand on the spot Zack had recently vacated, a small frown between his brows. He obviously missed having a body to hug, or else he was worried about his friend even in his sleep. Knowing Cloud, he'd go with the worried. The kid had an urge to protect that was oceans wide. He was also a ballsy little guy. He'd seen the tiny smile on Cloud's face when he'd called Sephiroth 'sir' last night. He'd been teasing the General.

People's reaction to Sephiroth had very little variation. They were afraid. They were awestruck. They wanted something. SOLDIERs reactions were often similar except with loyalty and respect as additional options. Not many of them had the General down as a target for friendly mockery. Or if they did, they didn't have the guts to follow through, which was a shame because if ever a man needed what friendly teasing symbolized it was the unique, and lonely, General Sephiroth. In Zack's opinion, anyway.

"Zack, whaz'appening?" Cloud slurred, eyes barely open, "You 'kay?"

"I'm fine, Spike. Awake and ready to face the day." His voice wasn't loud, but it was definitely cheerful. Nothing like a good night's sleep to restore one's optimism. He crouched to pull a clean uniform out of his duffel. "I'm gonna go scrounge up some breakfast. You and Seph can sleep in."

"How can anyone sleep with you thumping around, Commander Fair."

"It's never bothered you before," Zack defended himself. Cloud raised an interrogatory eyebrow. "Seph and I have shared tents before – in the field, on missions, I swear.."

"You disturbed Cloud, which disturbed me. I will have to learn to filter his actions while I sleep."

Cloud's eyes shot open and he swallowed visibly. The way the General was talking this wasn't a one-time deal.

Zack, watching his friend's face, took pity on the kid. Perhaps he'd been too groggy to hear some of the conversation last night. To help him remember, Zack prodded his grumpy commanding officer, "So you're serious about this being the start of a relationship?"

Sephiroth, not the friendliest person before his first cup of coffee and unable to see Cloud's face, just growled, "I said so, didn't I."

"Just wanted to make sure you hadn't changed your mind since last night."

More growling, "You said something about obtaining breakfast? That sounds like an excellent plan. Why don't you pursue it?"

Zack leaned over and stage-whispered to Cloud, "He needs coffee, so be warned, he bites in the morning."

Cloud, who'd obviously been enjoying a nice dream at the mention of a relationship, smiled softly and commented happily, "He can bite me anytime." Zack burst out laughing because, judging by the predatory expression that appeared on the General's face, Cloud was going to get to live up to that statement.

"I'll be back in an hour guys, with company, so be cleaned up and presentable by then. He easily dodged the pillow that was thrown at him, and gently shut the door behind him. He heard a growl and Cloud's laughing protest, "I was kidding, Sir!" as he walked down the hall. Maybe he'd give them an hour and a half.

He stood for a minute at the window. Not to look at the view so much, it just looked up the valley towards the mansion, but to allow his mind to calm a bit. He wanted to know if Jenova was still 'out there' shouting at Sephiroth. Sure enough, the hum that he'd identified as her was still out there, dimmed by distance but still recognizable.

Shit.

He wasn't an expert on telepathic, alien, psycho bitches by any means, but he couldn't believe her determination to 'talk' to the General was a good thing. And the voice, presence, thing was focussed on Sephiroth. Whatever effect it was having on Zack was accidental; like being caught in the backwash of a large freighter. At least here, in the Inn in the middle of the village surrounded by Nibelheimmers – the ignorant pricks, her voice was hardly audible, not that he'd ever heard words like Seph had, but it was down from a strident buzz to a mushy hum

The noises coming from the room behind him were louder now, and recognizable. They were certainly more fun than listening to the psycho bitch.

Cloud and the General had looked so cute all nestled together this morning. Zack was glad, and a little envious, that they were finding time to enjoy each other in the midst of all this craziness. Love was weird. Itty-bitty small town Cloud captures the heart of the big bad sophisticate Sephiroth – details at eleven!

Then there was Zack himself. Who'd have thought he would've set his heart on an innocent little Cetra flower girl who'd barely been kissed before he'd arrived on the scene. Those below-the-plate dudes were pussies and fucking stupid to let Aerith's step-mom scare them away. Mind you, he should be grateful. The old battleaxe had kept the way clear for him. He sure did miss her.

The noises behind him picked up a little. Before he got too envious and decided to join them, he went down the stairs to the Inn's main floor. It was a lot emptier this morning. Eating out for breakfast must not be socially acceptable up here. The elders Cloud had talked about probably thought it was part of that 'creeping moral decay' disease afflicting the rest of the world.

It was Mrs. Gruber at the desk this morning. She seemed like a decent enough person, old enough to be his mother, of course, but still good for a friendly flirt. He got fresh coffee and a strudel thingy out of it, and took them outside to enjoy the sunrise. He kept an eye on his watch. He'd like to be able to give the new couple upstairs the whole day in bed but they couldn't really afford that. He couldn't help smiling at the memory of his friend yesterday, tearing through the books pointing out all the discrepancies. Cloud as a book nerd, who'd've thought it.

They had to shut Jenova up, that was their number one priority. Then they'd go back to the lab where Seph and Cloud would go through that fake-o library. Maybe he'd go explore those coffin rooms while the other two did their best to figure out what was going on in Dr. Creepy's head. That thought reminded him of something else they should do, or actually, something he could do while his friends were otherwise occupied.

From thought to deed took only a heartbeat. He entered the number into his PHS and stuffed the last of his strudel into his mouth. He went back into the Inn as he waited for the call to be answered.

"Commander Fair," Tseng's controlled tones acknowledged the identity of the caller but Zack couldn't tell if the Turk was happy or intrigued or pissed off. Even Sephiroth had more personality on the phone.

"Hey, Tseng. I'm here in Nibelheim and I have a question for you."

"Questions can be dangerous things." Tseng and Zack had developed a decent working relationship over several missions. He knew that Tseng's blunt sentence really meant they needed to use oblique statements and codes words from here in. Obviously the Turk knew something... interesting, about Nibelheim.

"Yeah, I know, but anything is better than nothing," It's important or I wouldn't be asking. "Hang on while I order breakfast." Zack placed the mouthpiece against his chest while he ordered only slightly less food than last night's feast. What he was really doing was letting Tseng decide for himself whether or not he was willing to risk his career, and maybe his life, by answering.

Once the order was placed he lifted the phone back up, "Still there?" You willing to risk it?

"For now." Depends on the question.

"It occurred to me that Sephiroth should've been sent to Junon. In fact, I think his original orders did have him going there." Who changed his orders?

"The President signed off on the change."

Shit. Zack had been hoping that the answer would be Heideggar. The man was a glory-hound and it was just as likely that he would've sent the Silver General away from Junon to grab the spotlight himself. He was also as resolute as cooked spaghetti. Just about anybody on Shin-Ra's Board could've influenced the slimy fuck into redirecting Sephiroth here, so the pool of suspects would've been larger but probably safer overall.

The fact that the President himself changed the orders limited the options. Most of the people on the board were either yes-men, like Heideggar and Palmer, or Shin-Ra ignored them, like his son Rufus and Tuesti. In fact, there were only two people that he would've done this for. Two very powerful and very dangerous people: Scarlett and Hojo.

"And he thought it was a good idea to send him most powerful SOLDIER to a backwoods nothing village to take out a few monsters?" Who convinced him?

"I'm not sure of his reasoning." I'll have to think about whether it's safe to tell you.

"I hear you. Thanks for you help, Tseng. Be safe, man." Don't take any chances.

"You too, Zack."

So it was either Scarlett or Hojo, he mused, folding his PHS and putting it away. Of the two, his money would be on Hojo. He'd worked in Nibelheim as evidenced by the lab in the basement, probably with Sephiroth since the General had recognized the place. He had a long-standing interest in Sephiroth and always wanted to do more tests that the General avoided. Problem with Hojo was who knew what drove that sick fuck? This could be some kind of experiment in repressed memories. It could be Psycho Doc's way of tugging on the General's leash trying to re-establish dominance over the most powerful warrior the world had ever experienced, except for maybe that Jenova thing. Or he could have something completely different in mind.

Scarlett's motives were easier to understand. She wanted the money and media attention currently given to the SOLDIER program to be redirected to her Weapons Research and Development department. The danger level was variable with Scarlett. She was as likely to arrange for them to be shot with a long-lens camera as to be shot with bullets. Actual death or deadly scandal, either would achieve her goals.

He'd have to warn the two upstairs to keep the intimate touches to a minimum once outside the Shin-Ra wing of the Inn. Although, he was talking about Sephiroth here; he was nothing but controlled in public. Hopefully Cloud would understand that Seph's control didn't mean he liked the blond any less. If he couldn't accept the man's weird interpretation of the rules of relationships then they were doomed – which would be too bad as they'd certainly got off (pun intended) to a good start.

Remembering the noises coming from the bathroom last night and the bedroom this morning, Zack had to shift a little as his pants got tight. Fuck. He wished he could figure out what it was about his commanding officer that made a firmly hetero-male want to throw his innate sexual orientation out the window.

Even cute little Cloud, himself the subject of locker room fantasies – and wouldn't that make him sink through the floor in embarrassment if he knew, didn't have the same effect on the dark-haired First. No, it wasn't sweet, cuddly, endearing little Cloud but cool, aloof Sephiroth, with his stark colouring and arrogant self-control, that made him go 'what would it be like?'

Just part of the man's mystique, Zack concluded with a helpless sigh. At least Zack had someone special he could channel all that lust towards. His fingers were dialling before her picture fully formed, "Hey, Aerith! Are you still in bed?"