-

Part 1 Chapter 2

Early July - Year 2
Nibelheim

-

"Ne, Vincent. What are you thinking about?"

The red-cloaked man glanced over his shoulder, silently regarding the blonde that moved to sit next to him at the edge of the roof. His shoulder rose and fell in an impassive shrug, dismissing the child's question. "Nothing overly important."

Cloud tilted his head to look up at his companion, eyes wide and almost luminescent in the dying light. "It doesn't seem that way to me. You look like you were remembering something."

Vincent didn't reply, letting the child form his own conclusion as he watched the village below come to life. Small lights flared in the windows as the sun sunk behind the Nibel Range, casting the peaks' large shadows over the small town. It was a restful sight, a perfect time to just sit and think. He'd allowed himself to be taken back into the past, before Hojo's betrayal and to the almost heavenly time he had spent in this little town.

"Who're you thinkin' about?"

"Hmm…?" Cloud's question surprised him, but all he allowed to show was a slight amount of curiosity, "What makes you think I'm thinking of anyone?"

"Mom gets that look sometimes, when she talks about dad." He paused, trying to find the words to explain what he saw, "You know that sad, distant look. Mom says that it means you are thinking about someone you lost."

"Your mother is a smart woman." Vincent took in a breath of air, but he still didn't answer the child's question. Cloud gave an annoyed huff, "Come on, what was she like?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"'m just curious," Cloud defended himself, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the roof, "I guess I'd just like to know more about you I s'pose."

"You just want to hear a story," said Vincent in response. Cloud loved stories, and often bugged Lucia and the other adults to tell them to him. He usually wanted tales about battle and glory; it was strange for him to be asking about a different topic. He wouldn't really mind talking about her, it didn't hurt so much anymore, and he could understand that Cloud wanted to know more about him. In fact, he was surprised that the curious boy hadn't asked before.

Cloud blushed at Vincent's accusation and began to defend himself. He was stopped by Vincent's next motion, moving out of his loose crouch and into a more relaxed seated position. He pulled one knee up to his chest and swung the other over the ledge. "It's a long story, and one I'm not really in the mind to tell." He looked away from the disappointment that settled over Cloud's features, he didn't like to talk about the past. If he did, he would be drawn back into the guilt that lurked in every mention of her name, drawn back to the anger and terror at every thought of him. One year was not enough to bury all the skeletons in his closet, and until they were truly dead and gone, he wouldn't be willing to talk about them. It had only been recently that he had come to a tentative peace with himself, and allowed himself to settle down in this small village. He was healing, little by little, but he wasn't willing to take more than one step at a time.

"You worked for ShinRa, right?" Cloud asked after giving Vincent some time to himself. If he couldn't hear about whomever he had been thinking about, then he would try something else out. He was itching for a story, wanting to see if the faint images he could vaguely recall would fit with the dark man's story. It had been something bothering him since he had found Vincent, but it was a topic he hadn't been willing to breach. The stoic man did not talk about his past very often, if at all.

"I used to be a member of the Turks." The sharpshooter answered after a short deliberation. He doubted the boy would leave him alone if he didn't humor him, at least now the topic wasn't near as sore. Vincent's lips turned down slightly in a confused frown, looking at a faint flash of serious emotion playing across the boy's face. It wasn't uncommon for such moments to occur, but he always found it disconcerting. Cloud looked like a pre-teenager, and even acted like one most of the time. But it was these moments that made him think of someone far older. He did wonder what instigated these moments, it was unusual for a boy his age.

"Really? I want to get into SOLDIER when I get older." The blonde kicked his feet lightly in the air, "I don't really know why, but I just feel like I gotta." He tilted his head up to the sky, watching as the many stars began to twinkle into existence, "I had a dream about it once; but I failed the exam and it turned out to be a nightmare. Maybe that's the reason I want to join; to prove my dream wrong."

The boy trailed off and shook off the serious air he had adopted during his short speech. The bright smile returned to its customary place, impressing the former Turk with the ease of the transition, "But it doesn't matter. I'm gonna be a SOLDIER First Class one day…maybe even meet General Sephiroth…"

Sephiroth…the name set off a faint warning bell in his head. What was it? Why did the name give him a sense of urgency? Why did it remind him of her? He was about to ask Cloud about this 'Sephiroth' but stopped when he heard the sound of someone climbing up the ladder propped against the back of the house. The creaking wood drew his attention, causing him to set aside the question for another time. A head full of blond hair, followed by stern brown eyes rose over the edge of the rooftop, "Cloud! Get down here; it's time for you to go to bed!"

"What? Mom! I barely got to hear the story!" He looked pleadingly at his impassive companion, hoping that Vincent would be willing to help him. His spirit sunk at the 'eye-smile' that he could see shining in the ex-Turk's eyes, and he knew that there was a small smirk that broke the blank countenance hiding beneath the red mantle. "Go on kid, I'll tell you more another time.."

Cloud grumbled to himself but complied. The child paused before descending the latter, "Can I have one last question?"

Vincent half-turned to look at the boy before shrugging, there really wasn't any reason why he couldn't. Of course, he hadn't really been expecting what the boy asked next.

"The person you were thinking of, did you love her?"

He just barely prevented a flinched at the question, his eyes narrowing minutely. Lucia called up the ladder once more, having reached the bottom only to find that Cloud had not followed her. Cloud took the resulting silence as his answer, knowing he had gone too far in his prying. The next time his mother called up the ladder he responded not making a fuss about following his mother's voice into the house.

Of all the things, he hadn't been expecting that. It had thrown him off target, and caused him to do exactly as he didn't want to do. His gaze traveled out to the city again, or more specifically drawn to the still blackened hilltop at the edge of the village. At the same time his thoughts traveled inward, unwillingly calling up images and memories that would be better put to rest.

He'd admitted the truth to himself before, but never aloud. He'd never gotten a chance to tell her, having locked it away under lock and key once he saw her with Hojo. She'd looked so happy then, the depth of her emotion so great that he didn't have the heart to burden her with his own feelings. He had kept them to himself and decided not to interfere with the newly formed couple. That resolution had been scrapped when he discovered what he'd been doing to her…

He sighed, closing his eyes in an attempt to banish the thoughts that kept straying back to her. He thought he'd gotten over her, put her ghost to rest when he first decided to try and make something of the cursed existence he had been granted. It didn't seem to be the case if it still affected him this long afterwards. She'd been a part of his past, and held no place in his future. She was dead and gone; he knew that trying to hold onto her would only end up getting himself hurt.

His crimson-colored eyes blinked open, and he noticed that night had completed settling over the world. He regarded the small village with mixed feelings, this place had many good memories of her, but it also held bad memories of him. Voices cut through the haze of recollection, the familiar sounds drifting up from the half-opened door at the foot of the ladder. He heard Cloud's annoyed complaining and Lucia's chiding responses, and felt his lips curl into a small smile. Perhaps it was time to set aside the haunting images he both loved and loathed, replace them with memories of the now, of Lucia and Cloud. He felt closer to the both of them than he ever had felt with anyone else, save Lucrecia herself. Neither of them knew anything about his past, nor did they press him for it. Cloud sometimes wanted a story, but he always stopped if Vincent asked him to. It was just a quiet acceptance, one that the last shreds of his humanity had latched onto.

They treated him as a part of the family and looking out for them had become as important to him as Lucrecia once had been. At first, he had only been planning to stay a few days, then leave town to enact his revenge on Hojo. Those days turned to a week, and then to a month. Now, it had been exactly a year since he arrived at the Strife household, and he no longer felt any desire to leave the quaint village. Thoughts of Hojo still sent him into a dangerous mood, but his desire for revenge had dwindled away to almost nothing. As long as that scientist never reentered his life, maybe he could actually live like a relatively normal person. He'd never had a chance to, not since he'd left Kalm to join the Turks.

And so he just sat there long into the night, looking up at the stars as if they would tell him just what he should do. Was he really willing to give up her memory? He didn't know. Would he be able to move on if he chose not to? Most certainly not.

When he decided to head back inside it was already well into the next morning. The door was still open, the light filtering though the doorframe, inviting him in.

-Midgar-

Despite his rather mysterious nature, Sephiroth, the General of ShinRa's Elite SOLDIER Unit, was a very predictable man. He was always found in the same place at a given time. From early morning to well in to the evening one could find him in his office, tackling pile after pile of paperwork regarding statistics, reports, assignments, and whatever else the bureaucracy of ShinRa decided to dump on him. He only ever left when the administration required him to attend a meeting, was summoned to the labs for testing, or was required by the higher ups to be present at some function or another, and these were usually planned well ahead of time. Even his training sessions were scheduled, two hours of hard practicing between his departure from his office and the arrival at his own quarters. He didn't really mind too much, he felt safe within the confines of his structured life. It was familiar, and he'd probably be lost if it were taken away, he'd grown up with routine and timetables as far back as he could remember.

His reactions to things were also extremely predictable. To those around him, whether they were President ShinRa himself or a lowly Grunt, they only saw one thing, nothing. Sephiroth was always blank, his eyes cold and his mouth set in a thin line. He never smiled, never laughed, never scowled. His reports and orders were delivered in a monotone, and he never spoke unless necessary. He didn't have friends, didn't have any type of companion at all. It wasn't through any lack of his own; there were plenty of people who would love to take up the mantle of "The General's Friend" or "The General's Lover" whether it was for his position, or his beauty.

He was definitely an oddity, with his waist length hair that glimmered like spun silver and softly glowing green eyes. Many females and even a few males would give an arm and a leg to claim the General in all his ethereal glory. However, if the stoic man ever had any desire to take such a companion, he'd never shown it.

Sephiroth was the trump card in ShinRa's military, having been genetically "enhanced" since before his birth. He was far stronger, faster, and more intelligent than the even the mako-injected members of SOLDIER. Indeed, many people even doubted he was human after he single-handedly ended the Wutai War, plowing through the country's military and decimating it with the same empty look on his face, not even flinching at the swath of death he had dealt. He'd been placed in charge of the SOLDIER Unit almost immediately afterwards by President ShinRa himself and it hadn't been much of a surprise to him. He'd been raised and trained by Professor Hojo under President ShinRa's watchful eye for that very purpose. Fighting was all he knew how to do, knowing nothing else but his training all twenty years of his life.

He was untouchable, unmovable, and unchangeable. He was the role model of every new recruit to enter the program, and the worst fear of ShinRa's enemies. The company exploited his talents, using his image to draw in even more recruits and the threat of his involvement to ward off rebellion against the company's iron-fisted grip over the entire Eastern Continent. The sad thing was that he didn't care at all.

It was an empty existence, but it was all he had ever known. He never strove for anything more, because he never knew there was anything more. Professor Hojo had kept him isolated in his lab for the first fifteen years until he'd been needed to end the war. He hadn't understood the complexity of human emotion so he did the next best thing, he blocked it out completely. He would have been perfectly content living out the rest of his days knowing nothing but the adrenaline of battle and the void of peace, blissfully unaware of the world that waited just out of his reach.

Of course, fate had other plans. The General of ShinRa was a key player in future events and it would not do to just let him languish in nothingness. It would only be a matter of time until that very world smacked him in the face, courtesy of one Zachary Fair.

It hadn't been a spectacular day, but it was one that Sephiroth would remember for the rest of his life. He'd become inexplicably restless, and staring at the paper had done nothing to relieve it. He'd been contemplating leaving his office early—for the first time in his life—to work off the frustration in a set of long, hard, mind-numbing sword katas when there happened to be an unexpected knock on his door. A flicker of irritation flared in the void of his soul, but it quickly withered away under the nothingness that was the general's existence.

Keeping his voice even and flat he told the person to enter, folding his arms on the cold wood of his desk as he watched the man with polite disdain. It took him mere moments to recognize the man, his photographic memory pulling up the file that he had long since memorized about every person he had to come in contact with on a semi-regular basis. Jiro Kimura, SOLDIER First Class. He was considered by many to be the liaison between the general and the normal ranks as well as his official job as messenger boy between the ShinRa Executives and the Military Office. His eye twitched minutely when he noticed that the man before him did not exactly fit the picture that he kept in his mental file, requiring him to perform a reexamination. Broad muscled build, wide neck, brown eyes, long black hair—oh, that was it. The formerly shoulder length hair had been cut by about two or three inches and now stopped just below his ears. He dutifully updated the image in his file while waiting for the man to get on with his business.

Kimura fidgeted uneasily under the general's gaze as he pulled to mind what he had to say, "Due to the i-increase in workload that has been delegated to the General's desk, President ShinRa has authorized the appointment of a "General's Aide"—"

"No."

Kimura was taken aback by the sudden interruption, "E-excuse me?"

"I do not need an Aide." This time his hand twitched, moving slightly toward where the Masumane, his sword, was leaning against the edge of his desk. If Kimura didn't relent, he'd just have to take care of the Aide himself. In his experience, the best way to get rid of someone was to slit his or her throat.

"You have no choice, General. He has been appointed by Heidegger and is currently waiting out in the hallway."

He couldn't kill him then, mores the pity. If he did, he'd have to listen to Heidegger whine and rave and carry on before assigning him another Aide—this one most likely even worse than the last. He closed his eyes, "Send him in."

He heard the man open and close the door, followed by muffled voices from the other side. His eyes opened his eyes once the door opened again, immediately taking note of the rather short person that entered. The first thing he noticed was spikes, many spikes. The boy's—for the person was indeed a boy, not even out of his teens yet—black hair fell in unruly spikes away from his face, giving one the impression that he had a hedgehog on top of his head. Large cobalt eyes—and under the light they seemed to have a slightly purple tinge—stood out from a lightly tanned face, seeming to spark in mischief as his hand came to his forehead in a crisp salute. The boy wasn't built in the same category Kimura was, but the stance and the slightly bulky muscles informed the general that the boy was indeed from a part of the military and not a desk job as he had previously thought. He opened his mouth to demand the person's name and rank, but the boy beat him to it.

"Private Zack Fair at your service, ranked SOLDIER Third Class, General-sir."

The boy had the nerve to speak unbidden to him, an act that caused Sephiroth's fingers to twitch. It didn't matter that he had answered his questions; a low class soldier was not supposed to speak to his superior officer without permission. He suppressed the urge to wrap his hands around that thin throat for the private's cheek. Nevertheless, he couldn't. Blessed be the man who resists temptation, plus Heidegger wouldn't be pleased.

"So, General-sir, when do I begin work?"

The flippant tone in the SOLDIER's voice caused another sense of irritation to flare. The action was very tempting now. Somehow, he knew that this Aide would give him a headache before too long.

A/N: Second Chapter, as promised to a certain someone. I had to rewrite a good portion of it, mostly because I noticed some OOC moments...I want a beta! ;-;. I don't think this(or the rest of the story, for that matter) is anywhere near as good as the first chapter...

On a side note, I am disregarding every Final Fantasy Seven game/thingy beyond the original. That means no Last Order or Crisis Core, or Dirge of Cerebus (which is very fun by the way, even for a shooting gamewhich I normally stink at...). Even the original will be warped, after all, the whole point of this story is an attempt at rewriting the past, ne?