The sky is one big blurry grey cloud. With every burst of whistling wind it wavers some, but rarely seems to move, covering every inch of blue. It's begun to darken, clouds black around the edges now, and Cloud recognizes the signs: a snowstorm on the way.

Now if only he could get his body to get up and do something about it.

It's been a good ten minutes since Sephiroth finally fell. The silver haired General lays face down in the blood-tinged snow, sword fallen from his limp hand. Cloud fares little better; he's face up, but filled with more holes, practically swimming in blood. The wounds have begun to clot and close, but he's still desperately weak, vision swimming.

Nibelheim is a dangerous place in winter. It would be stupid to have been the only living mortal on earth to have ever defeated General Sephiroth, only to freeze to death cause of some snow. With that thought in mind, Cloud finally forces his aching feet beneath him, wincing with every movement.

He sways; it hurts so fucking much, more than anything he's ever been through. More than any wild beast, more than any hunt or battle before, Sephiroth kicked his ass. And it… felt good. It felt amazing. He'd barely kept up and almost died more than once, but he hadn't.

A breathless smile comes to Cloud's face, as he stumbles forward. Organix gets left behind; he can't carry the comatose General and the behemoth of a blade. "Sorry," He mumbles quietly, whether to the sword, or the man, is unclear.

Slowly, stiffly, Cloud bends to take hold of Sephiroth's arm, slipping it and then the man's body over his shoulder. He hisses as he stands, feeling a new surge of blood seeping from his wounds as the pressure puts strain on them. But he grits his teeth, puts one foot in front of the other, and gets moving.

"You – so owe me," The man mutters quietly. It takes a lot of energy to speak but somehow the words are giving him the mental strength he needs to keep moving. Lifting his spirits, as it were. "Attack me for no damn reason. Almost kill me. Now we're gonna –" He hisses again, moving Sephiroth further up his shoulder. "We're gonna freeze to death and it's all on you buddy."

The man is too tall to properly be carried by the blond; but Cloud does his best. The General's feet, hands, and hair all drag through the snow and blood. It's all Cloud can do to put one foot in front of the other. The world fades in and out of sight.

"Y'know…" He chuckles dryly. "It would – really suck, to die now." Another step, heavier and slower than before. "After beating you. Proving how good I was – just to die and have nobody ever… know about it…"

The world swirls. White and grey greet him as his knees give way. Is that the ground? Or the sky? It all looks the same. He's not cold anymore. Cloud's just… very tired.

When he was a boy, Prof. Hojo always insisted on calling Sephiroth a God.

He never understood it. Being a curious and intelligent boy he constantly questioned the man on it, but was rarely given concrete answers. Clearly, he was mortal like everyone else. Clearly, he had a body, he could be injured and hurt. But… over time it soon became clear he wasn't like everyone else.

And if he wasn't like everyone else… then what was he?

The idea of being a God didn't sit well with him. It was… odd. Gods demanded reverence and fear, and Sephiroth never wanted either. He got plenty of both. Fans made him feel awkward, fearful enemies were just part of the job. It wasn't enjoyable, these things. Honestly, Sephiroth rarely enjoyed anything to do with people anyway.

In some ways, it fit. He healed like a damn monster. Nothing could kill him – nothing could stop him. No human on the planet had ever been his match.

"You, my boy," Prof Hojo would say. "Are the proof of my genius. The essence of a God in physical form. You will believe me, one day, when you search this whole world and find not a single soul akin to yours."

It wasn't a pleasant thought. To Hojo it was proof of his supremacy; for Sephiroth, it was the dreadful reality that he would always be alone.

Sephiroth opens his eyes.

He blinks; coughs, feels the tell-tale rattle of still healing lungs. Iron coats his throat and he feels… slick. Some of that is the blood on him, he realizes, while it is also the fact that he's surrounded by ice and snow. Sitting up, the man looks round, eyes narrowed.

He's in a field, of some sort. It's hard to tell given the powerful pressure of the winds, the darkening skies, but he's still clearly near Nibelheim. He moves to stand and sees something bright yellow sticking out from the snow. Confused, Sephiroth moves gingerly, hand clutching his abdomen, pulling Cloud out of the snow with his other arm, all the time wondering –

He remembers.

It all comes back to him in one single instant, and he absorbs it with barely a blink. They had fought. Something in the reactor had – changed him, taken over for a moment and that horrifying realization – that something alien had entered his mind and played him like a puppet – has his guts churning.

More than that, he remembers the fight. By the Gods… that pulsing pressure in his head had been nefariously demanding. Kill. It had wanted him to kill and would not stop pulling at his mind until he caved. If… if Cloud hadn't stopped him…

Narrowed eyes went suddenly wide.

Cloud had stopped him.

For a few minutes, Sephiroth simply stares in stunned disbelief at the bleeding man before him. It occurs finally that the man might be dead – he checks and finds a steady, if weak pulse. Military training has his mind already on track for their survival. He lifts Cloud into his arms as he stands, making plans for the night, yet still focused on that one thought, like a beacon in the dark.

He'd been beaten. And this wasn't a spar or a fun romp with friends or SOLDIERs, this had been war. Sephiroth remembered; he'd been out of his mind and ready to kill this man. He'd really tried. All his power, the greatest magnitude of his abilities, he'd unleashed on Cloud, and he had lost.

Sure, it had been a near thing. But Sephiroth didn't have near things. He never came close to losing. Never.

You are a God.

A human being with a homemade sword had taken him down. Sephiroth could hardly believe it.

There are days when one regrets waking up.

Ow. Ow ow ow.

Most of those days for Cloud were after a successful trip into the Wilds. Especially after his mother had stopped going with him, those trips often ended in a lot of blisters and bruises. Or more than that. And in the end, he'd find himself waking up at home, covered in bandages and in more pain than he comfortably wanted to deal with.

Those times held no candle to this.

"Oh my gods," Cloud groans, blinking tired eyes. "What fucking Behemoth ran me over?"

"That would be me, I'm afraid."

Slowly, blinking steadily to clear his gaze, Cloud turns his head. Only a foot away sits the general, sans sword and coat, crossed legged on the frozen ground. There in a cave, sealed off from the winds by a few well-placed boulders, a small fire in the center. Cloud's not too cold; he has Sephiroth's jacket spread over him.

"Your injuries are mostly healed." The man informs him. "The superficial outer damage is gone, but it will take time for the blood loss and internal damage to heal completely. You should rest."

Cloud blinks again. Half lidded, groggy eyes settle on Sephiroth. "So are we just gonna pretend you didn't go apeshit?"

The man sighs. One elbow resting on his knee, he leans forward, looking more relaxed than he has in ages. To Cloud's surprise, he actually seems to be smiling. "No, we won't." The smile falters somewhat. "I can't say I completely understand what happened, but I can assure you I am no danger as I am currently. The… force that took over me… I can't feel it anymore."

"Makes sense," Cloud grunts, sitting up some. "The reactor completely blew during our fight. That was the source of whatever was going on. It's probably gone, now."

He hopes.

"The reactor?" Sephiroth blinks, gaze turned and thoughtful. "Ah, yes. I remember… I was very determined to find it."

"A while ago, Vincent came up here." Cloud finds himself saying. It hurts a bit, and he takes a while to catch his breath. Every word feels like a weight on his lungs. "Said he had to do something in there. I bet he knows what's up."

"Hm." Sephiroth falls quiet.

Too exhausted, Cloud falls back into the snow, breathing hard, grateful just to be lying down. Sleep could easily come over him now, even on the hard cold ground in this uncomfortable cave next to the guy that just tried to murder him.

"It seems," The General says suddenly, "You were sent to constantly baffle me."

Cloud groans. "So am I not allowed to sleep now?" He mumbles, an arm over his face. The fire's light becomes a glare on the snow and its hurting his overly sensitive eyes. "I feel like I earned it."

"Yes, of course," Sephiroth inclines his head. The fact that he actually doesn't say anything else leaves Cloud feeling a little surprised, and… curious. He turns his head.

"What?"

A smug, amused look answers him. "You," Sephiroth says. "You realize I've never been defeated before?"

Yeah. Of course Cloud knew that – who didn't? He'd even thought about it earlier, in a murky, half exhausted haze, but it couldn't really count. "You still haven't. You weren't in control, and I'm sure I wouldn't have won otherwise." If you could call that winning.

Sephiroth just gently shakes his head, like a patient adult explaining something to a child. It would irk Cloud a little, if he were conscious and aware enough to recognize it. "I may not have been behind my bloodlust, but I was the one fighting. That creature wanted me to kill you – it made me want to kill you. I tried my damnedest to, yet – here you are."

There shouldn't be enough blood left in Cloud's body to reveal his embarrassment. All the same, he's blushing once again. Clearing his throat, he turns his eyes away.

"You were injured too you know. You should be resting." Slowly, Cloud sits up, wincing a little as he does. "Come here." Sephiroth stares for a moment, but Cloud holds his own. "Every Nibelheim child knows you share body heat in a blizzard. I'm not going back to Shinra to tell them I let their General become a Seph-cicle."

The choice of word has him cocking an eyebrow, but he finally does as he's told. Cloud tries sitting up further. He wants to be of use here, to help the man who was bleeding on the ground just like he was; instead, it's Sephiroth who takes gentle hold of Cloud, and pulls the younger man to his chest. He adjusts them until he's resting with Cloud between his legs, back to front, the jacket spread over both of them.

The world is still foggy around the edges; he's very tired. But Cloud's conscious enough to understand that this is really happening. This is General Sephiroth who is currently pressed up against him, the General's breaths that are brushing by his ear. It's surreal. All of this has been surreal, practically incomprehensible. Like one big dream.

"Cloud."

"Hmm?" He'd been half asleep; drifting off thinking of how likely it was his mother would believe he'd beaten Sephiroth. Head leaned back onto Sephiroth's shoulder, eyes almost fully closed, Cloud relaxes into the man's embrace.

"Are parents truly so important?"

He rouses a little. Shifts his legs to get more comfortable. "Sure. Family's important. Whoever your family might be. Some people, its parents."

"For you?"

"My ma," Cloud yawns, blinks. "Vincent."

"I see." The man hesitates. "There is no one else?"

"Never knew my dad." Finally settled comfortably, Cloud keeps his eyes closed, even as he speaks. It's relaxing. "Doesn't really matter, to me."

"…"

"He was a mechanic apparently." He fills the silence. It's easy to tell Sephiroth is searching for something, for camaraderie, for support, for answers. Anyone to be feeling what he is. Cloud tries to offer it. "Some famous engineer or something. Ma always said that was where I got all my brains."

"And your sword skill?"

"Entirely my mother." Cloud chuckles. He adjusts a little, so he's on his side partially, to take his weight off the wound in his other thigh. "She met him when he hired her to protect his expedition. Some science-y trip, Shinra funded, all that."

"They were not married."

"Nope," Cloud says. "Just a fling. Ma didn't even keep his number."

"Aren't you… curious?"

He sounds so concerned. So unsure himself. It's a heartwarming thought, that the General can be indecisive. "I guess. I mean it's not like I don't want to know. But I'm not hung up on it. I know who I am. I don't need DNA or history to know that. And I've got my family."

"I see." Sephiroth hums. "A strong sense of self identity and close communal bonds can replace the need for parental guidance."

"What about you?" Cloud opens his eyes. When he looks up and the glare finally fades, Sephiroth's look is dour, almost grim. He knows the answer before it's said.

"I have Prof. Hojo." The man grumbles, eyes dark. "I'm not certain how much I would consider him family, anymore."

Slowly, Cloud sits up, leans away. "No one else?"

Sephiroth shakes his head. "No one." The man turns aside, his silver hair glistening in the firelight. "Growing up I always wondered what it was that drew other children to their parents. Why they could not stand to be without them for a moment. A young girl brought to Shinra by her parents was left alone for a few minutes and all she could do was cry. I didn't understand."

Cloud's eyes soften. Tense lines draw Sephiroth's eyes tight, his brow furrowed, lips pursed. "You've put a lot of thought into this."

"I'm trying to understand." Sephiroth admits with a sigh. "All of this is tied into my lineage."

Tired, Cloud allows himself to fall back onto Sephiroth. Large hands, calloused and firm, help him settle, and the blonde's heart skips a beat. "I had a friend once that almost died cause of her mom." He's not sure what to say; not even sure what he's currently saying. Everything about Sephiroth is confusing and Cloud's too exhausted to think clearly. So he just goes with it, follows his instinct, and talks.

"The people around here used to worship the Old Gods. Part of the lore said that Mt. Nibel was a holy mountain, and that if you climbed to the top you'd be with the Gods. On the other side, you'd find hannha – the holy land. The place souls go when they die."

"When we were little, my friend's mother died, and she was so distraught she ran out in the middle of the night and tried climbing Mt. Nibel herself. She wanted to get to the other side, to see her mom again."

"That was reckless." Cloud can't see the man's gaze anymore; can't tell if he still looks frustrated.

"Love can make you like that."

"Would you do such a thing?" The man asks. "Climb a mountain? Face Gods for your family?"

He doesn't even hesitate to answer. "Always."

Blood, on the air. Familiar blood. His blood.

Vincent breaks his cover and appears at an instant by Zack's side.

"Something's wrong." His nostrils flare, eyes burning bright red. "Move!"

He can smell it – their blood. Sephiroth's, Cloud's. The red haze takes over his mind and Vincent (Chaos) they are flying.

It always existed in the world. It was the world, was part of the world, part of its nature. But until the woman's research pulled it together and forced its power into the vessel, it had never been conscious of the fact it existed.

It was forced into the vessel, into a living body, and on that day Chaos actually lived.

It was a dark and bitter place to be born. Full of fear, agony, anger. Hatred for others, and himself – themselves. Vincent hated them, but he hated himself more, and Hojo even moreso. Chaos agreed; on that, at least. Hojo had been the one to cause the pain, the one to make his vessel suffer, the one who had tormented them both in this body.

Chaos had not been conscious for long, but he had already become aware of his violent nature. He is destruction – and he longs for nothing more than to tear that scientist to shreds.

In the darkness, he remained, the years after. Alone, cold, drifting. Vincent shut him off, seeing him as another part of the torture rather than one of its victims. They slept, and Vincent dreamt of horrid things, and Chaos dreamt them too, watched them dream in the dark.

Then the boy came. Fell into their arms. Awoke Vincent, and became the first in so many years to make him live. Vincent living, meant Chaos lived too. Everything Vincent did, saw, felt, he shared with Chaos. Cloud made them live again. Cloud gave them life.

No one would take Cloud from them.

The demon tore up the mountainside in almost record time. His keen nose brought them straight to the trail of blood, and before long, to the small cave they'd taken shelter in. With great ease he tosses the boulder in the entrance aside, and swoops in.

'Wait.'

Chaos falters. It is the vessel – the vessel never speaks to him.

'Look.'

The red haze over his mind is overwhelming; Chaos cannot exist in the world, he is too much for it. When he overtakes the vessel, he can do little but act on impulse, overwhelmed by instinct. He smells blood, Cloud's blood, and wants nothing but to find the boy, and kill the one who hurt him.

'Look at them.'

The voice. It pulls on him like reins. The red haze parts, and something clearer replaces it. He can see; sees the boy, resting, asleep, upon another upon – the other boy. The one the vessel's woman bore. Another Vincent cares for.

They are sleeping, resting, safe. Chaos – is not needed. He slips away, sinks beneath the skin, and Vincent Valentine finds himself standing in the cave. He simply stands there for a moment; regains his sense of self, his reality. Takes in the sight of the two boys, so precious to him, curled into one another, sleeping. Then the man very gently lifts the larger of them over his shoulders, the small into the crook of his arm, and moves back out into the night.

The first time the demons had come out, Vincent had panicked for three days.

It was a sensation unlike any other. Like having your skin and flesh crack like an egg, and finding something else inside it. Something not yourself. Suddenly you're giving birth to a beast you didn't know was inside you, and its birth is killing you.

That's what it felt like. Being born, and dying, all at once. It was excruciating, and with no understanding of how or why it was happening, Vincent was left to scream and flail in the dark, howling his pain through the night.

The first time it happened with Cloud, he barricaded himself in the coffin room.

It was two hours before he heard he sounds. The creak of floorboards, a young man's rapid breaths. Cloud came rappelling through the ceiling, the ingenious boy having attached a rope to the stairway on the first floor, and dropping down through the original hole he'd made when they'd first met.

The sight that greeted him was not pleasant. Coffins barricaded the door; the bones and flesh from them all tossed about in the haphazard scramble of the beast to move them. The walls were scratched and beaten, new holes torn in the drywall, some of the coffins torn to shreds.

Cloud's feet gently touched the ground, and the boy untied the rope around his waist. At 16, he was young, but brave, experienced with monsters and their ilk under his mother's tutelage. He saw what Vincent looked like, curled up in the corner clutching his arms round his legs, wings curled in on himself.

He stood there, quiet, and didn't move. Made no noise, no sound. It took almost an hour for Vincent to acknowledge him.

"Why…" The words were a garbled mess. Fangs and a long forked tongue got in the way.

"I'm not leaving you alone like this." Cloud insisted. "You shouldn't have to handle everything by yourself."

"Go… go!"

"I would but you made it kinda hard." The young man shook his thumb at the doorway with a smirk. "And coming down on the rope was hard enough. I'm not looking to get anymore scratches." He did, in fact, have quite a few on his arms, though the rest of him seemed fine.

The mention caught Vincent's attention; the tell-tale sound of sniffing, nostrils flaring, came next, and then the man was across the room. Cloud had had enough time to get used to the man's inhumane speed by then. Still crouched like a creature, rather than a man. He leaned down, sniffing at Cloud's arms, and the boy stood motionless, allowing it.

"Okay that's just – wow." Then, the demon took firm but surprisingly gentle hold of the boy's arm and started – licking it. Licking the little wounds, that was, and they miraculously healed. It felt weird, like being licked by a cat, all rough and unpleasant. "Aw, man, you're gonna be so embarrassed when you're back to normal." The boy couldn't help a grin.

Once the wounds were healed, and the demon had done a thorough inspection to make sure Cloud wasn't hurt elsewhere, the boy finally managed to make him sit. He did, awkwardly, like a gargoyle, his wings and claws in the way. Vincent's body and the demon's combined created a weird new creature, and neither inhabitant seemed quite used to using it. They were both awake, and aware; but not fully, and the combined awareness created a strange effect.

Cloud had been told about the demons. He'd been instructed at length about them, informed of what he should do – namely, run away and don't look back. Vincent had been tough on that. Not that Cloud had ever been that good at listening to what he was told. No, he had his own plans about the demons.

"Hungry?" Cloud took his bag off his back, unzipping. The demon was sniffing the air again, eyes open wide and curious. The creature seemed young, almost inexperienced, despite being supposedly as old as time itself, according to Vincent.

From his bag, he removed a Tupperware container, and presented it to Vincent. "Here, your favorite." The blonde smiled. "A little bird told me you always seemed more content when Vincent ate some of my mom's cooking." The demon sniffed the box, already puncturing the lid when he took it from the boy. His first attempt involved biting the lid, before Cloud hastily showed him that it came off, and the treat was actually inside.

Cinnamon raisin cookies – Chaos' favorite.

A few of those, and the wings began to shrink, the claws vanish, and Vincent was himself again. Exhausted, and spent, but himself. A week of brooding and trying to force the beast away had done nothing. But one young man with a bright smile and a box of cookies had conquered the beast.

Vincent had never been in more awe.

Cloud had just smiled at the dumbfounded look on his face, holding up the box. "Cookie?"

For the second time in a single day, Sephiroth opens his eyes not knowing where he is. This time, he's a little groggier, and it takes longer for him to recollect what had happened. He'd awoken and found Cloud, and taken them to a cave… then what?

They must have been found. Clearly he'd been injured enough to have fallen asleep, to his deep shame; only a fool allowed his guard to fall when a companion was injured. (It didn't matter that Sephiroth was injured; he was infallible. A God. He should have been awake.)

Yes, someone must have found them. He was in Cloud's room, resting in his bed, and beside him… ah. The young man himself, still dead asleep. Sephiroth was pleased to note the man was properly bandaged and seemed to be healing well.

The door opens; Sephiroth turns to see a black head of hair appear in the doorway, and his heart stops. So does Zack's, apparently, because when he turns his eyes go wide and he almost drops the tray in his hands.

"I – Seph!" Zack hurries to balance it again, before shuffling it off onto a table. "You're awake!" Then the man rushes over, a ball of fidgety, nervous energy, "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

Sephiroth blinks. Slowly, he sits up. "I am fine, lieutenant."

"Are you sure? I can get you something to eat. Another blanket, maybe? Yeah," The man nods to himself, apparently deciding without giving Sephiroth a chance to reply. He vanishes down the stairs, and is back just as quick with a quilt he tries pressing around Sephiroth.

"I am fine, Lt. Fair." Sephiroth tries to insist.

"I am so sorry," Zack says, sitting at the chair beside him, still fruitlessly trying to place the blanket on him, but being held off by the General's hand on his. "I should've been there, I can't believe I wasn't there –"

"You are not to blame." Sephiroth finds himself saying. There are things he should say. He's completely in his rights to dress the man down for vanishing without speaking to his superior officer, for being gone without communication for so long. But he's tired, and hurt, and would rather just not talk to Zack, right now. "You are not required to be present with me at all times."

"Not required -? Seph, I'm your friend. I should have been there."

The man blinks. "I was not sure we could be called such."

The look of pure shock and hurt on Zack's face strikes Sephiroth hard – and in a strange way, makes him feel better. Because maybe if it hurts Zack too, … "Of course we are, man! I mean," The young SOLDIER gulps, eyes downturned. "I thought so. After everything we've been through."

"Simply your duty as a SOLDIER." Sephiroth shrugs. "Being my friend is not a requirement of the job."

They fall silent. Sephiroth tries not to look at Zack; removes his hand from the man's, placing them on his lap. Zack is a good person. He could do much better in companionship. Plenty of people like him. Statistically, he could have more friends without the General's presence due to many factors, including –"

"Seph."

The man glances up through half lidded eyes. Zack has his serious face on; the strangely out of place look of fortitude and determination which earned him his place in SOLDIER. "This has nothing to do with the job, or SOLDIER, or Shinra. You are my friend. That's how I feel, whatever else there may be."

Friends talk to each other. Friends tell each other what they're doing. The accusations went silent between them. Unbidden, Zack sighs and leans back, beginning to explain.

"The Turks contacted me," He begins, slumped in the chair. "Offered me a chance to get Aerith out of the city safely, before the shit hits the fan."

Sephiroth blinks. "I was under the impression she was safe under Tseng's watch."

"The guy's worried about the shift in leadership." Zack tells him. "With no clue who's gonna be in charge, he doesn't know if the orders about Aerith will change or not. Better safe than sorry."

"I did not realize it was up in the air." The man's brow furrows. "That does not make sense. Rufus Shinra would be eager to take his father's place… unless…"

"Unless Tseng pressured him not to?" Zack smirks and nods. "He's convinced this isn't over. The assassins that took out the President – nothing stopping them from coming back to finish the last member of the family off."

"He's keeping him out of the running to protect him." Sephiroth realizes. His gaze narrows. "Who does that leave?"

"Reeve Tuesti," The other says, before hesitating, his voice darkening. "And Hojo."

"I see." No wonder they were in a rush to get Aerith out. "I understand now. Your reason for insisting on coming with me to this location, and for disappearing today."

The man shakes his head vehemently. "No, that's not – Seph. They didn't make the offer until after I already told you I was coming with you."

Confused once more, Sephiroth sits up further. "I don't –"

"I came here for you." A light punch to the silver haired man's chest accentuates his meaning. "I insisted on coming because no one should have to face these kinds of things by themselves. I wasn't supposed to be gone as long as I was today, but of course the Turks weren't on time."

It could be true. Possibly, but – "You could have informed me of the mission."

Zack's eyes soften. "I didn't want to put you in that position. I know Hojo's important to you. I wouldn't want you to have to choose between supporting your dad and your, um… friend." The sentence is finished weakly, unsure. Sephiroth's chest tightens.

"He is not my father." The vehement tone takes Zack by surprise. The man blinks as his commanding officer turns to face him. "You need not worry about my being compromised in reference to him. Prof. Hojo is no – family of mine."

A slow grin comes to Zack's face. "About time." He chuckles. "I must have missed something big. Y'know something besides the fact that you apparently fought this kid?" Zack, sitting up a little, leans over to look at Cloud. "You can stop playing possum you know."

"It seemed like you were having a moment." The sleepy blonde mutters, rolling over. Tired eyes blink once, twice, settle on Sephiroth and widen. "Why are you in my bed?"

"Did you not just hear me talking to him?"

"Well, yeah but," Cloud blinks blearily. "I didn't realize he was – this is my bed."

"Yes, it is." Sephiroth tells him. "I am glad you are not so injured that you cannot recognize basic facts."

Zack bursts into cackles of laughter when that comment gets Sephiroth kicked onto the floor.