Familiarity Flaw

That evening, when Genesis, Kunzel, and the girls had returned to his apartment to sleep for the night, he laid on his couch with the little chick on his belly, covered in the blanket he'd grabbed from the storage room. His coat and uniform were draped over one of the chairs and he was in his sleepwear. Usually, he'd have been in bed, but with him having offered his room to Shelke and Shalua, that left him on the couch until other arrangements could be made. For some reason, though, he wasn't ready to sleep yet, and some part of him knew it was because of Kariya—the man hadn't returned yet, but he was almost sure he would that night.

Finally, he heard the door open and close quietly, so commented, "It's about time. What kept you?" He didn't move or open his eyes—just the fact that the person who'd stepped inside was barely detectible to SOLDIER-enhanced hearing told him all he needed to know—a Turk, and likely Kariya, had finally decided to join him.

A sigh answered him, then Kariya's voice answered, "The Nightmare decided to show himself, and attacked both Cloud and Sephiroth. We've been busy since then. Were you waiting up for me?"

"Shelke and Shalua are in my room tonight, so not really," Genesis replied in a flat tone, then sighed. "But something told me you'd be back tonight, so I shouldn't bother trying to sleep if we're actually going to talk." From his belly, he heard a drowsy, curious 'cheep', so gently tapped the little bird under the blanket with one finger and told her, "Go back to sleep. This has nothing to do with you."

A chuckle sounded as Kariya sat, the sound obvious to the younger man—he'd even taken the same chair as last time by the direction of the chuckle. "I'm surprised you haven't actually lashed out at her yet, given your reputation."

Sighing again, Genesis commented, "Kariya, fourteen years is a long time for someone to change. I still have a temper and a fierce protectiveness of people I care about, and I won't try to pretend I don't. But a baby's a baby, even if the 'baby' happens to have feathers, and I can't justify hurting a baby—that was one thing I never did. Ever."

"I guess that's a good point," Kariya replied quietly. "But being responsible for one is different from just protecting one and handing it off to someone else to take care of. That's why I'm a little surprised you have the patience to take care of one of the most demanding types of 'babies' to exist."

"I think part of it is that I'm just too tired to react," the younger man replied in faint amusement, and Kariya chuckled.

"Usually that makes tempers shorter, but you're right. I've known others who just went flat from exhaustion." The older man paused, then told him, "I think when I tried to talk with you last time, I forgot to fill in a few details of how I thought this would work, and the result was you shoving 'family' away. I never actually thought you'd just call me 'Dad' and look to me like you would a father—we're strangers, and I won't just disregard that. Because you're twenty, even if I don't take into account your extra fourteen years, what I figured is that we'd get to know one another and maybe aim for friends first, and I don't actually care if you ever call me anything familial—my name is fine. That was never the point."

For a long minute, Genesis just assessed the words, then opened his eyes and turned to look at the man across from him. He was sitting up with his elbows braced on his knees as he clasped his hands tightly in front of him—the Turk was shockingly nervous. "Then what was the point if it wasn't to get back your long-lost son?"

Kariya's lips quirked in amusement and replied dryly, "Oh, the point is still to eventually have my son back, but in the meantime, being able to get to know you and learn who you are now is more important. If we'd never been separated, it wouldn't be an issue, but that's not what happened, so starting from square one and seeing where it goes is the only feasible option."

For some reason, the words made the SOLDIER want to bash his head against a wall. Instead, he settled and closed his eyes again, saying, "Getting to know one another is a place to start, I guess. But shouldn't you be mourning?"

Sighing, the older man said, "She'd been slowly dying for years already, Genesis. I've been mourning her since I realized she was just...willing herself to death. Five years ago, maybe it could have been undone because she didn't smell like death to me, but...In a way, as much as it hurts, I think this may have been the better way for her to go, rather than the slow torture of wasting away. I've already cried for her so many times I don't know if I can find it in me to do so again."

"Point," the red haired man agreed tiredly. "What are we doing with Shalua and Shelke now that they're here, though?"

"If they want to attend the Academy, they could take student housing—Veld managed to affirm for me that they have a few spots still. There's also the option of a house or apartment in the city. Commuting would be harder, unless they wanted to go to a school in the city rather than the Academy, but that's something we'd have to talk with them about. You're a first responder so you can't actually live somewhere other than here, so I'd be the one to keep tabs on them if they wanted a place in the city. The only thing I'll ask is that you don't just disregard their presence or ignore them, regardless of where they decide to live and go to school."

"I'm sure Shelke won't let me do that anyway—she adores my little chick too much and will probably burst in here demanding to hold and play with her. And oddly, this little one doesn't seem to mind Shelke, either."

The words made the orange haired Turk laugh. "Genesis, you realize that makes it sound like you're going to ignore them unless they come to you for something."

Opening his eyes to glare at the man, Genesis told him, "Unlike with you, I actually already at least knew who my sisters were in the future. That was never the problem, it was that you were a complete unknown until Tseng brought back the paperwork with your name on it. And all of my past experiences with my 'parents' have been bad, unlike with my siblings. I don't disregard or ignore my siblings, blood-bond or otherwise."

"Speaking of, if there's something you need the Turks to look into..." Kariya commented, then raised a brow as the younger man's gaze turned flinty.

"I'm away from them, and it's all done and over with. There's no reason for me to go back, ever, so there's nothing they can do to me now," the red haired SOLDIER informed him, voice shockingly cold.

"And that basically says there's something you're hiding, and something we should be looking into," the Turk replied in a dry tone. "And it's obviously something bad."

"How would it not be bad when I was forced on a couple who didn't even want children, let alone an adopted one?" Genesis returned. "It's not rocket science to realize my life wouldn't have been pleasant."

"Yeah," Kariya agreed. "But you're reacting way too defensively for neglect to be the worst of it."

The words made Genesis blink, then turn away from the man, laying on his side and facing the back of the couch. By extension, the chick gave an angry chirp at being dumped onto the couch and suddenly grew rather hot, making Genesis lift the blanket to look at her. Little flames were flickering along the edges of the few feathers which were starting to grow in. A few moments later, the flames went out and she curled up against him again to go back to sleep.

"...She's making fire already," Genesis sighed, feeling drained all at once.

"Have fun with that, then," Kariya told him in amusement. "I'll be back in the morning so we can talk with the girls about what they're going to do from here."

"Fine," the red haired man agreed, then closed his eyes—and fell asleep so suddenly he didn't actively hear the man leave.

MB

Cloud was restless. He should have stayed in the apartment, but both pups were happily sleeping against their mother, so he'd quietly risen and left to wander. If he tried to pick something to focus on, it really didn't work—there were too many things running around in his mind just then. While he'd gotten more vocal and less socially awkward in the time he'd been with AVALANCHE, he'd never overcome it completely, and that was without factoring in things he wasn't sure how to explain. The clone-Nightmare, Sephiroth, Scarlet, Fenrir's words, Yufi, the Wutai War, and the list went on—where did he even start? At least Fenrir was sleeping just then, so he didn't have to worry about him forcing it...

Wandering around the Shinra building as a Turk in the middle of the night caused a very interesting reaction from the night shift skeleton crew who kept everything running—they all paled and turned to go the other way. Quickly. He began doing it on purpose just to get a chuckle out of apparently scaring them all witless just because he was restless. Finally, though, he found his way to the training rooms and began practicing some moves with his combat star. It expended energy, at least, but how much it would help remained to be seen. If he still had the urge to scare the night staff, it hadn't been enough, so he hoped it would work.

Suddenly, he was dragged out of his silent pondering by a loud clash of metal on metal as his combat star met another blade. Looking up in surprise, he saw a Third holding the blade blocking his star, but wasn't sure who he was. The eighteen-year-old man had pure (Mako) blue eyes with only the faintest hint of green around his pupil and black hair cut to be flyaway. Since he was clearly looking for a spar and there really wasn't anyone else around then, Cloud obliged him by initiating the attack, which the man met with an almost surprising focus.

The spar wasn't as intense as either the one with Weiss or the one with The Nightmare, but it was still a challenge. What this Third seemed to be doing was going for a skill fight—it wasn't a match to win, but to work on and improve skills. Oddly, that actually caused Cloud to focus more on what he was doing, using the match to both expend energy and to hone his skill with a combat star. Because they both apparently had good stamina, they were able to keep up the spar for over an hour without over-straining, and it was by silent agreement that they finally both stopped and began their respective cool-down exercises.

"Thanks," Cloud said as he did, realizing he felt better.

"I'm a night wanderer, so why not? Extra practice is always good," the Third replied with a grin. His expression then turned serious before he asked, "So, what's eating you?"

Cloud's brow furrowed as he said petulantly, "Too many things to pick just one." He didn't think anyone could help, anyway.

"Huh," the Third replied with a raised brow. "Word gets around, you know. That clone of the General has ties to you, just to start. And you fought him here in the building, on a crowded floor. I find it hard to believe nothing went wrong."

Ouch, was Cloud's first thought. That Third was shrewd, he had to give him that. After a pause, the blond boy sighed and said, "Nothing did, but that was just chance, not because it couldn't have."

"So, what happened?" the older man asked.

"We fought, and nearly hit civilians twice. Both times, I was the one within an inch of having killed them," Cloud replied, gaze on the ground. "I didn't even realize it until later, when—a friend—pointed it out to me. But, it hurt more because he accused me of having the same kind of obsession with the clone as the clone apparently has with me."

"Is that clone as powerful as the General?" the Third asked curiously.

"He's more powerful, definitely," the Turk answered, shaking his head a bit.

"So you were so focused on him everything else went by the wayside?" When Cloud nodded, the black haired man commented, "I know what kind of focus it takes me just to hold my own against the General for ten minutes. If you're saying the clone was more powerful, the degree of focus you'd need to fight him could very well be so intensive you'd have no choice but to disregard anything else."

"And if I had hit either or both of the civilians?" Cloud asked, sounding wounded.

"Collateral damage is a thing, you know," the Third commented dryly. "People who care about others try to keep it to a minimum, but it's not guaranteed to succeed. There are just times when, no matter how hard you try, you can't keep everyone safe in a battle or a disaster." As the blond started to open his mouth to protest the statement, the Third held up a hand in a 'wait' motion, then went on to ask, "Now, I know the fight's still fresh in your mind, so could you go back and review those instances with me?"

"Review them again?" the Turk scowled.

"Humor me," the older man answered in amusement. "It's not just for fun or something. You were fighting. When your blade nearly hit them, was it because your blade was knocked aside, in either or both cases?"

Blinking, Cloud started to open his mouth to ask why it mattered, then closed it and replayed those few moments of battle again, his brow furrowed slightly with his focus. After a few long moments, he said slowly, "That happened the second time—I'd shoved the blade forward to stab, but he tried to disarm me and my blade hit the wall next to the man as I tried to get it out of his reach."

"Okay, so the first time, if it wasn't a clash of blades, did he dodge or throw a spell at you, or do something like hitting the ground under your feet so you stumbled?"

Once again, the blond assessed the situation, then stared as he said, "He tore a hole in the floor under my feet, and when I jumped to not get hit, I aimed at him, but then he wasn't there anymore..."

The black haired man nodded. "Argento told me about similar tactics a lot of Wutains use specifically to cause one of two results—mental trauma to someone they're having trouble with or a stumble and delay as they have to rapidly change tactics. The premise is sound, and someone who doesn't care about others' lives would use exactly those tactics. The clone seems like exactly that type. Would you like to know what the people who you nearly hit have to say?"

The words produced a pained snort. "Probably that they hate or fear me, or both."

For a long moment, the Third just looked at him, then looked past him to the door. "Heya, Jim. Why don't you tell him what you thought of that, since you're one of the ones he almost hit?"

Cloud spun, then stared in something like bemused horror as he realized one of the office workers—one of the ones he'd nearly hit, as the Third had said—was standing at the door to the training room, gaze sad as he looked at the blond. The man actually looked a lot like the Third, but without the Mako-blue eyes and with less bulk.

"Sounds like he really needs to hear it from me directly, too," the man answered, then gave a small nod. "That was a hard fight. Did you know both of you were, like, levitating and flying while you fought?" The question made Cloud gape. "When 'you' nearly hit me, what I saw—thanks in great part to my younger brother's obsession with big swords—was a blade right on course...A blade which turned aside at the last moment to hit the wall beside me. With a swing in progress, especially at those kinds of speeds, you could never have accidentally missed me. No, what I saw was that you somehow still had so much awareness and control to manage to divert your blade without missing a beat in your battle. And I have to thank you for that, because it saved my life."

First, the blond Turk blinked. Several times. Very slowly. Then, he gave his head a dazed shake as he reviewed the battle—then every one of his interactions with The Nightmare in succession. "It was always like that..." he suddenly breathed. "Fuck!"

Both men blinked in surprise, but he ignored them as he realized Zack hadn't been talking about 'his having almost hit the civilians', he'd literally been talking about the exclusion of active thought. The Nightmare cared about no one and would definitely use the kinds of tactics the Third had mentioned—Cloud had only been spared that pain in the past because only other, equally as powerful fighters had been there, or he and The Nightmare had been alone. That hadn't stopped him from trying to use those tactics, they just didn't work very well on people who could also at least defend themselves.

On the other hand, The Nightmare's way of fighting had become so familiar to Cloud that he automatically compensated and adjusted, knowing the other would target people who weren't involved (everyone was involved to The Nightmare, though). Because of that familiarity, he stopped thinking and just acted, 'acknowledging' objects and people as nothing more than background data. And his focus, his reliance, on those patterns was a bad thing. It was probably also the reason Zack asked him if the obsession actually went both ways.

While it alleviated him of his fear about having nearly harmed people, it produced a whole new worry—when had he stopped thinking about how he fought? Especially against someone like The Nightmare.

A hand on his shoulder startled him, then the Third's familiar voice asked, "So, is that part mostly resolved now?"

Looking up at him, Cloud had to give him that and nodded. He then looked at the office worker (apparently the Third's older brother) and said, "Thanks for talking with me. It helped clear something up for me—besides just whether or not I'd really done what I thought I'd done."

The man, Jim, smiled. "Sure thing. Take care, then. I have to head home or I won't be fit to work tomorrow." The man then gave a wave and left.

"Good," the Third grinned, ruffling Cloud's hair, which produced a scowl from the boy. Then, the older man blinked and said, "Wow, your hair's really soft...How is that even possible?"

"That's what you're worried about now?" the blond asked in annoyance. When the man chuckled, Cloud asked, "Who are you, anyway? I mean, since it seems you know who I am already..."

"Since Zack practically hasn't shut up about you and Tifa since he met you?" the man asked in amusement, and Cloud gave a heart-felt, put-upon sigh. "I'm Riven Triban, Argento's mentee. Apparently, she took me so seriously on the General's recommendation, and even though I thought at first I was getting second best—not a bad deal, just not what I'd been really hoping for then—I'm really starting to wonder. She's really made a few points that make me think she'd be able to beat anyone in her path if she was put on the spot."

Cloud's lips quirked. "I wouldn't know, since I haven't had a chance to fight her. She's got a very good mind for tactics, though, so there's no doubt she's skilled."

"Yeah," Riven agreed. "You should see if you can get some rest."

With a small shrug, the blond agreed, "Even if it's probably a lost cause for tonight, you're right. See you later, then." Riven nodded, and Cloud headed out to return to Angeal and Zack's room.

As he walked, the Turk named Anki fell in with him. She was a definite tactician herself—she and Doriss were the two go-tos for plans, even before someone like Veld or Tseng. Why she had a sudden interest in him, he didn't know—he really hadn't interacted much with her. Brown hair was kept boyishly short and she had hazel eyes—and every time he looked at the burn scars on her fingers (they were self-inflicted), he shuddered.

When they got to the elevator, she tapped a code into the keypad beside the floor numbers, then said, "I thought you'd like to know the clone is in a very unpleasant mood right now, largely due to his injuries. While they're healing quickly, they also apparently slowed down his aging process, so it will take more time for him to reach the General's age. I suggest you use it to learn some new strategies to fight him with."

"How do you know that?" Cloud blinked.

"From spying on them, of course," she replied in a flat tone. "I had reason to keep track once I knew about the clone in the first place. He was also rather infuriated by how it was his 'weaker self' who did him so much damage."

"Good," the boy chuckled. "Especially since Sephiroth wants a rematch to put that demon to rest for good."

"We shall see how things work out, but if the General is serious, the two of you should probably practice sparring together."

"...Maybe. Thanks for the update."

As the door opened at Cloud's floor (Angeal's floor, actually), she typed in another code, only giving him an absent nod as he stepped off it.

When he got back to the apartment, he walked in to find Angeal sitting at the kitchen table with a letter in hand. And he was beginning to wonder about what was going on that night. The black haired Commander looked up from the letter when the blond stepped in, gave him a nod, and returned his gaze to the paper.

"Is that private?" Cloud asked pointing his chin at the paper.

Sighing, Angeal replied, "I sent a letter home asking my mother about my father. I don't know if you saw the paperwork with our parents listed?"

"Not directly, no," Cloud answered. "I knew about Genesis and Kariya because of Kariya, and Tseng, Vincent, and I discussed Sephiroth's lack of noted father a bit, but that's all I know."

Nodding, the First agreed, "Yeah, I never actually thought there would be a surprise in my paperwork...Until I found one. I asked my mom about it, and this is her reply. She at least admitted it was true, but it's still a lot to swallow, and I'm not completely sure how I should react to it, or even if I should."

"Is your father someone you actually want to know?" Cloud asked.

Shrugging, the older man said, "Not really. What I already know is more than enough to realize I don't really like him. Why?"

"Do you need to do something, then?" the blond asked dryly, then felt weight on the top of his foot and looked down to see his (very sleepy) pup sitting on it. It had missed him in only a few hours?

"Just the fact that she lied to me..." Angeal said, sighing again.

"Yeah," Cloud said flatly. "Does it actually matter? Because from what I know, nothing really needs to change if he's not someone you want in your life. It's really just data. You may have been lied to about something probably meant to protect you, but there are definitely worse fates out there, and I've suffered a few of them. Give yourself time to adapt to it, and one day, you'll wonder why it even bothered you. If something about it becomes relevant to the situation, at least now you know, and you know where to look to find out more details. You're no different otherwise, and neither is your mother, so why should anything change?"

"You make it sound easy..." the older man commented in wry amusement.

"Angeal, I'm never going to recover all of my memories," Cloud told him, tone still flat and gaze hard. "I lied to myself, all my friends—I screwed my own memories so badly that I erased the person who spent a year dragging around a dead weight from my mind. If only all I had to deal with was finding out my father wasn't who I thought he was! And for the record, I actually had to deal with that, too—and it was nothing more than a temporary annoyance. Whose genetics made you isn't really important to who you are—it's you and the person or people who raised you that define who you are. History and heritage are overrated—who you are right now is what's important, and you can choose that for yourself, no matter whose genes or what knowledge you have."

The words produced a shocked moment, then a smile. "Thank you for that. Head back to bed while I finish reading this and put it away. I'd have done it earlier, but today's been...hectic."

Cloud just gave a small smile and returned to the blanket and pillow on the couch, where the pup jumped up to sleep curled against him. And that time, sleep came on before he'd even realized it.