In all her years, Jean Strife's child had brought only a single friend over to the house to visit. And yet, in the course of a few days, the woman found herself with half a dozen strangers in her living room.

Most notably, the General himself, who currently happens to be brooding on her couch, in the middle of an impromptu gathering that Mrs. Strife isn't sure she's part of. Her son is there, seated on the fireplace, so she stays, watching.

"How're things back home?" The other SOLDIER, Zack, asks. He's leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, and beside him is his girlfriend, who came out of bumfuck nowhere. Mrs. Strife is still very confused about that one.

Sephiroth sighs. "Not well." His gaze lifts, back straightens, and suddenly he seems to command all the power and attention of the room, as if he towers over them, despite the fact he's still sitting. "In total, twelve were killed in the attack two days ago. The President and four department heads were among them, including the Director of SOLDIER. Since then, control of the organization has fallen to the Turks and their connections in various facets of Shinra, but obviously they cannot be in total control for long."

"Not that they wouldn't love that." Zack snorts.

"Tseng might grow weary of it after long." Sephiroth replies with a small smirk. "The insurgents responsible for the attack have been identified as a Wutaian freedom group known as Leviathan, and while most members were captured or killed, some escaped including the leader of the operation. Tseng has agents tracking them down but at the moment nothing is conclusive."

"So, why isn't the president's son taking over?" Cloud chimes in. "I mean doesn't he want to?"

"Pssh, yeah." Zack chuckles. "The guy tried to overthrow his dad a few years ago, he'd definitely jump at the chance."

"Zackary." Sighing, Sephiroth turns to the blond. "Tseng believes it is inadvisable at this time, given the escape of many of Leviathan's members, and the general chaos which may encourage other enemies to attempt to cull the last remaining Shinra from the planet."

"AVALANCE." The girl – Aerith, was it? – speaks up for the first time. She's a pretty young thing, and someone else might've questioned her place at this conference of SOLDIERS and warriors. But Jean Strife could see the girl's calloused hands, and the staff she carried in with her. This is no wilting flower.

Sephiroth nods at Aerith's comment. "For the moment, Rufus is withdrawing his candidacy, which leaves the remaining department heads. Reeve Tuesti is a small time mechanist, little known even within the company. He's reserved and keeps to himself, and is unlikely to have much support in a bid for the Presidency."

"Which leaves Hojo." Vincent, hovering in the corner, scowls. "He will undoubtedly be unwilling to give up such power once it is his."

To that Sephiroth nods. "Precisely. He can't be allowed to take it."

"Gah." Cloud hangs his head, running a hand over his spiky hair. "I didn't know what I was getting into when I went to Midgar, huh?" He lifts his gaze to her. "Sorry, ma."

"Don't apologize." She steps forward, her cane making a light clack with every step across the floorboards. "In fact, this might work out in your favor, mister General." Mrs. Strife nods to him. The man cocks an eyebrow. "This new temporary leader of yours – it's gotta be somebody Shinra, and a head of department, right?"

The man nods. "That would be the best candidate. A scientist would be a good bonus as well, given the type of work Shinra is focused on."

Nodding thoughtfully, Jean carefully maneuvers herself into the nearest chair, both hands resting on the cane in front of her. She's quiet for a moment. Preoccupied. Finally, she speaks again. "I knew a man once who fit that description. Scientist, worked for Shinra, 'fore he said screw 'em and went to work for himself. He was head of some department or another, though I'm pretty sure it went under without him around."

"Really?" Zack, turning to her, scratches his head. "Seems a little too convenient. I mean I've never heard of a Shinra Department Head just – what, retiring?"

"He didn't exactly retire," Jean chuckles. "He walked out on 'em. Well, he was gonna sit and mope but I kicked his ass in gear."

"Who the hell is this ma?" Cloud asks, perplexed. "I've never heard you mention anyone like that."

The woman smirks. "I might have mentioned him once or twice."

"Goddamnit!"

Jean blinked; that was a rough, country drawl she was hearing, cussing up a storm down the hall, and with it came the constant clanging and banging of metal being kicked and tossed around. The sounds were so familiar she almost felt she were home suddenly, back in Nibelheim, rather than wandering a Shinra facility across the country.

Obviously, it was enough to peak her curiosity.

So, she strode down the hall and into the hanger that was the source of the noise, and saw a tall rugged blonde mechanic covered in grease, with steam practically spewing from his ears. He was pretty cute, for being such a hothead. It was a hot day and the man had taken off his shirt to compensate, and it was easy to see his line of work kept him in shape. Nice shape. Jean, with a small grin, leaned back against the wall with her arms crossed, and watched him pitch a fit, appreciating the few.

It only took a few more cusses for the man to finally notice he wasn't alone. Blushing to his ears, the stranger's fit slowed to a halt, hands down by his sides, mouth slightly agape.

"Hi," Jean said.

"Hi, yourself," The man grumbled, clearly embarrassed and trying not to show it. He brushed his hands on his pants and turned away with a huff, stalking back over to the nearest desk. There was a few empty beers and a pack of cigarettes there; he grabbed a fresh one of each, before collapsing into the chair beside the desk.

Jean watched him do it, listened to the sotto voce grumbles and moans, head half cocked curiously. "Bad day?"

The man huffed. "You could say that." Leaning back, he motioned to the large window near them. Jean followed his gaze and immediately understood – outside the window stood the Rocket, Shinra's pride and glory, until yesterday. "Damn shame." She said, turning back to him. "You part of the project?"

He took a long, long swig of his beer. "Head of the Department of Space Exploration." He said. "Former Head."

"… well, shit."

"Heh." The man grumbled again. "That's a word for it." Dark eyes narrowed with another sip of beer. "I can think of a ton more."

"So, what're gonna do now?"

"The fuck does it look like?" Frowning, he turned his chair away from her. "I'm gonna drink and then take a piss. Then drink some more."

"I meant 'bout the rocket, dumbass."

"Fuckin' nothin'!" The man screamed, red faced. "There's nothing to do. It's dead. Whole damn project's dead. Shinra axed it."

"So?" Shrugging, Jean crossed her arms. "I don't seem 'em hauling it away. Pretty sure rockets can run without Shinra's tax money."

"Pff." He hesitated in taking another swig, but eventually did so. "Stupid. Ain't got shit to work with without Shinra. Just me and that damn hunk a junk."

"More than nothin'."

He hesitated, looking at her out the corner of his eye. "Who the hell're you, anyway?"

Cornflower blue. She remembers thinking his eyes were as bright and beautiful as the sky he kept reaching for. And in that instant, she wanted to see him reach it.

"This man have a name?"

"Sure does," The woman shrugs, glancing off. "Fuck if I can remember."

"Really, ma?" Cloud snorts, staring incredulously at his mother. "You can remember all this but not who the man is?"

"I can remember a lot more about him." She can't help but taunt the boy. A suggestive smile accompany her words.

Zack holds up his hands. "More importantly, can you get us into contact with him?"

"Not really." The woman scratches her head.

"Then why the hell did you mention him!?"

"I know where he lives." Jean says. "Rocket Town, north of here. I assume he's still there, drinking on his lazy ass or tinkering on that project of his. If you can find him, you might convince him to play along with this scheme of yours."

"Do you think he would attempt to keep control of Shinra as President, if he obtained such power?" Sephiroth asks, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Pfft, hell no." The woman cackles. "He hates Shinra. But he'll help you out if only to screw Hojo over. Hates him, too."

"Then it seems we have no choice." The General finishes. "Our… mission in Nibelheim will have to wait. We will make for Rocket Town in the morning."

It's strange, to be surrounded by so many people, by so much life. Even in the last few years, moving around Nibelheim, Vincent's never been in such close confines with others before. On the outskirts, he watches, hovering in the dark with his eyes on the children. Heh. They're all grown adults, in their early twenties, yet to him they are most certainly children.

A bark of laughter catches his ear; Cloud sounds happy. It's nice to hear him so. The boy had never been a very cheerful person, even on his best day, he was inclined to be serious and quiet. But the brunet, Zack, and even his girlfriend Aerith, whom Cloud had never met before today, seem to be drawing him out of his shell. It's good for him.

Still, this whole scenario worries him. He'd never wanted Cloud to become involved with Shinra, and certainly not to this extent. Unbidden Vincent's gaze drifts to Sephiroth. The man is nearby, yet not too close to the others; hovering, like Vincent, just out of reach. But he is closer than Vincent is, because he wants to be part of the group, even if he does not know how to be. It's clear on his face. He aches to be accepted amongst others. If only he could see that Zack and Cloud clearly already had.

Setting those thoughts aside for a moment, Vincent strolls through the house, to the front porch. Mrs. Strife sits in her rocking chair, a beer in one hand, staring out into the cold bitter night. There's a lamp on the railing; that is the only light shed on the small, snow covered porch.

"Have a seat, Mr. Valentine," The woman motions to the chair next to her. He takes it with a nod. She's always had a second sense for him. Rarely has he taken her by surprise. "What can I do you for?"

"I have some questions about this man in Rocket Town."

"Mmmhmm," She smiles. "I imagined you would. You or that boy of yours."

"Boy…?"

Turning, Mrs. Strife sets a knowing gaze on him. "He's as inquisitive and detail-oriented as you are. I keep feeling like somebody's watching me and I don't know if it's your sharp eyes or his. Like a damn hawk on my shoulder."

"I…" It hits him. Her, too? Scowling, Vincent turns away, clenching his fists. "I don't know what you mean."

"You do, too." The woman insists with a scowl. "Trust me, I know kids. I know what being a parent is, and it's not blood, it's a feeling. And I see it in your eyes every time you look at him. So blood or not, he's yours. Though I'd bet my fucking house that he's your blood too. Look at the boy!"

He's been trying not to. Every time he does all he can see is a woman covered in blood and tears, I'm sorry Vincent, I'm so sorry. "Please… stop."

Jean hesitates. Narrow eyes watch him carefully, and she nods. Without missing a beat she simply changes the subject. "I met him almost… more than 20 years ago, now. I worked for Shinra as a temp for a while, extra muscle while they ferried their scientists around the western continent. Their presence wasn't as strong back then, and they didn't have the man power to send SOLDIERs over all the time. So, they hired outside their own force."

"Mercenaries." Vincent manages. He remembers working with some of the like in his time.

She nods. "They picked me up in Cosmo Canyon, looking for bodyguards for a trip to Mideel. I stuck with em for a while. Pay was good, and I had nothing else to do. Eventually I followed them along up north to the rocket project. You were probably asleep back then, but there was a time Shinra was aiming to get a flying ship into outer space. Almost worked, too. But eventually they decided to stop funding it, and the whole thing sank. The Department shut down and this buddy of mine lost his job."

"You truly do not remember his name?"

She hedges, glances up. "Didn't want to say. Too easy for prying minds to start digging around."

Vincent hums. He'd thought so. "This man… what was your relation to him?"

Her eyes drift to his, knowing. He meets her gaze. She's a handsome woman. Tall, well built, though she's begun to grow thinner and bonier in her older years. At perhaps 40 years old, she's still a great beauty, and Vincent can imagine she must have been striking 20 years ago.

"Does Cloud know?"

She glances away. "I didn't want to say anything 'cause I don't know one way or the other. I always – suspected it was him. But I didn't want to say somethin' and be wrong about it."

Vincent nods. "Will you tell me more of him?" He wants to know as much as he can, going into this. Even with just the Shinra side to deal with, there's too much at stake to leave anything to chance. And if this is personal as well…

Jean nods, and begins to speak.

"The hell're you doin' woman?"

He hadn't stopped complaining since she grabbed him and started walking. Hadn't even stood when she moved; he was still in the damn rolling office chair he'd sat in, not that Jean cared. She just dragged him along, and the wheels made it easier. Though when the idiot drunk dropped his beer on a curve he wouldn't shut up about it.

"Quit yer yappin!" She spat, finally coming to a halt before a door. Jean let go of the chair, and the momentum sent him careening into the wall by the door. He ended up a cursing bruised mess on the floor, serves him right. The woman smirked.

The door opened, and a young black haired man in a suit appeared. Jean smiled. "Got a minute, Veld?" She asked, reaching out and grabbing the blond from the floor. "I got a proposition for your boss."

Blinking, Veld glanced from one to the other. "I see," He began. "And what is this proposition."

"What's the retirement plan for former Shinra employees?"

Veld just blinks. "I believe the young man you're holding is a little young to retire."

"Sure, but he was a damn Head of Department, right? A bigwig. He's gotta have somethin' in the bank he's owed." By the way Veld's eyes narrowed, Jean could tell she'd hit the mark. "Gotcha. So, even if he doesn't work for Shinra another damn day, y'all gotta pay him, right? Bet that irks the shit outta Mr. Shinra."

"What is it you want?" Crossing his arms, Veld glanced downward. "Or, should I say, he wants?"

"I dun wan' shit from you!" The man grumbled, drunkenly swiping in Veld's general direction and missing by a mile. "Fuckin' hypocrites and asswipes…"

"Mr. Likeable here would like to have all the rights and ownership to this land and what's on it."

Veld blinks. "And you believe Mr. Shinra will just give it to him?"

"Between owning land he can't get any profit out of, and money, what do you think he'll pick?"

"Heyy, hey!" Finally, the drunk in her hands seemed to notice something of importance was happening. Stumbling, the man forced his way to his feet, leaning heavily on the woman for assistance. "The fuck are you doin?"

"Trust me, blondie," The woman insisted. "You wanna fly your damn rocket? Do as I say. Get the damn land."

"I will speak to my superiors." Veld told her. "Perhaps you should… tidy him up."

That led to a lot of lovely expletives from said drunk, which Veld simply ignored, shutting the door on them.

"Did he receive the rights?"

Jean nods. "Sure did. Barely took Shinra half a second to take that deal up. The rocket was useless to him 'cause it didn't earn him a dime, and it would just cost more money to repurpose the labs and destroy the rocket. Better to just leave it as is, cut his loses, and let the man have it. And on top of that, he wouldn't have to pay the man's pension or any of that shit. Win, win."

"And your scientist friend would be left with all the supplies he needed, and the rocket to work on."

"Better than that!" Chuckling, Jean sits up straighter, a grin on her face. "Western continent today is doing pretty good for itself, but twenty years ago? I'm sure you saw some of it, in your day. People were piss poor. Fucking shit, we were poor. Screw money, we just wanted shit to eat. And the land up north is damn beautiful. Round that rocket was miles of fertile earth and unpopulated land just waitin' for people to move in."

"You gave him leverage." Vincent blinks, stunned. "Incentive he could use to hire others to help him build his rocket."

"Yup." She smiles. "That's why there's a town there now, you know. Rocket Town – fucking inventive, really? Pfft. But it worked. He's got airships and all kinds of shit up there. Hasn't hit space I don't think. Last I heard they were looking for a better alternative fuel source."

Vincent eyes the woman with a small smile on his face. "You are an inspiring woman, Mrs. Strife."

Meeting his gaze, the woman winks at him. "Aw, you're sweet, Vincent," She says, "But I'm too young for you."

Sephiroth remains awake long after the others. The hours tick away, and one by one, they drift off to rest. Aerith, at Cloud's insistence, takes his bed in the attic; Cloud collapses into an arm chair, and Zack onto the floor, and they chat back and forth in the dark until both drift to sleep. The house is quiet and dimly lit and still, Vincent Valentine and Jean Strife sit outside, talking.

Sephiroth waits; stands in the kitchen leaning on the counter, listening unobtrusively. They've talked about many things; the "children" (himself included, apparently, to the man's amusement), the village, the stranger up north, Shinra in general. Finally, around midnight, Mrs. Strife calls it a night, heading to her room at the end of the first floor hallway. Vincent bids her goodnight, returning to the living room, right next to the kitchen.

They are the last ones awake. Sephiroth knows the other is aware of him. He watches the brunette with narrowed eyes, though the man never turns to look at him.

"You should rest," Vincent says. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

"I need less sleep than humans." Sephiroth tells him.

"You are human." The man finally looks up; he seems unable to help himself, ruby eyes flaring. "Don't speak so of yourself."

Sephiroth shrugs; he's not human, but he won't argue the point. "Either way, I can function well so long as I have two hours." It won't feel great, but that's besides the point. "I have questions for you."

Vincent sighs. "I imagined you would."

Nervous, anxious jitters hit him suddenly. Maybe he shouldn't say anything. Maybe he should wait. Or never ask at all. Maybe this isn't the right time or there never will be a right time, and why does the man look so sad just looking at Sephiroth?

Why do I hurt you so much?

Sephiroth is used to hurting others. In battles, in training, at work. Or in social scenarios he doesn't understand. But he's done nothing. Vincent just… won't look at him. Or, when he does, he looks close to crying.

"Forgive me," Sephiroth says finally. "It can wait." Perhaps forever.

A sigh; Then, a pair of hands comes down onto the counter in front of him, dangerously close to his own.

3.9 inches. Vincent's longest finger is as long as Sephiroth's own, off only by a millimeter or two. Sephiroth's eyes dart over his form, taking in the numbers, the similarities. He says nothing.

"I knew your mother." Vincent begins. "We were – close. It is a painful subject for me, but I will do my best to face it for you."

Why? "I'm nothing to you." Clearly this man does not share the suspicions that Sephiroth does. Vincent does not see Sephiroth as… progeny. So why?

"You're wrong." Slowly, Sephiroth lifts his gaze. Crimson eyes bore into his own, strong, overpowering. "You're her son."

"So it is for my mother's sake, out of the love you had for her." That he can understand. It is not that Vincent loves him; he just loves Lucrecia Crescent. The distant memory of a woman Sephiroth never knew.

"No," Vincent insists just as vehemently. "I knew you before you knew yourself. I was there when you were barely alive, when your mother picked your name. I helped her decorate your room and pick out a crib. Before… before everything went wrong, I was a part of your life. You matter to me, Sephiroth."

He's choking. His vision blurs slightly and Sephiroth refuses to allow for tears, lifting his head to keep them from falling. Still, he's choking on his heart and its pounding hard in his throat and he can't keep himself from asking –

"Am I your son?"

Vincent's power and surety, the firmness in his eyes and tone, vanish in an instant. His gazes goes soft and sad; he slumps. "No," The man shakes his head slowly. "You cannot be. You cannot be."

Sephiroth swallows the lump in his throat. "I understand." But he walks away. Even as Vincent reaches for him, says his name, he walks away, because he can't face this.

He knows he is right. He knows it. What hurts is the denial from this man, who clearly does not want to even consider the thought Sephiroth could be his. Not that he blames him. Vincent Valentine has had enough of his humanity taken from him, has suffered enough pain. He shouldn't be saddled with a son like… him.

Sephiroth collapses onto the ground in the backyard, arms wrapped around his knees. He listens as Vincent collapses to the ground in the kitchen, sobbing. Listens as quiet feet patter across the floor, and Cloud's voice comforts and consoles the other. Listens as they leave, and as Zack's breathing pattern evens out into actual sleep twenty minutes after. Listens as the girl upstairs paces anxiously across the room. Listens as Strife's mother curses and tosses about the bed, unable to sleep.

He can hear all of it. Like a bat, or a predator, a monster of some kind. Sometimes, he really wishes he was one. He knows better how to play the role, than how to be a human being.

Nibelheim folk like to believe they are friendly, welcoming people. They aren't, but it's the pretext that counts. If somebody new is in the neighborhood, you should be nice and introduce yourself and bring over a pie to welcome them to town. Whispering about them behind their back and silently praying they won't stick around notwithstanding, you've gotta look like you want them around.

It's a time honored tradition, and damn it if Tifa won't continue it. She doesn't honestly give a rat's ass about General Sephiroth, but hey, if General Sephiroth is in your neighborhood you probably should make him a pie. For propriety's sake. Course, Tifa can't make pies, so cake will have to do.

So, first thing in the morning, Tifa Lockhart knocks at the Strife household, and waits to be let in. She expects Cloud, Mrs. Strife, or maybe Vincent to answer the door.

She does not expect the beautiful brunette woman she's never before seen in her life.

"Oh, hello," The stranger smiles and the room is suddenly full of sunlight. Its 9 am in Nibelheim and the snow is up to her knees but Tifa's never felt warmer. "Ooh, is that chocolate?" She's beaming at the cake and Tifa can do nothing but hand it over.

"It's for the – family." She manages to say.

"Did you make this yourself?"

"I – yes," Flushing brightly, Tifa nods. "I cake. I mean, I make cake. Bake cake. I make and bake cake."

"It's delicious!" She's beaming and Tifa's heart does a backflip. Someone else is coming up the hall but Tifa barely notices.

"What's going on?"

"Cloud's friend brought us cake." That beaming smile turns to the stranger walking up, a tall man who smiles at the woman and leans in for a kiss.

"You missed some," He says with a wink. Tifa's hopes and dreams wither up, and she dies a little inside.

"Tifa?"

Cloud appears, and Tifa can't help but frown heavily. It's his fault somehow. She wants someone to blame, and he will do. So the woman walks into the house, trying to look calm and normal, until she can round the corner and catch the blond in a chokehold, out of sight of the others.

"H – Hey? What the hell?"

"I hate you," She grumbles. "You and your cute straight friends. Damnit. They'll make such beautiful children. I hate their future beautiful children."

"Teef, you are not makin' a lick of sense."

"Shuddap. Give me a minute to be emotional, then you can explain what's up with all these people in your house."

They leave Nibelheim by noon, trudging on foot over Mt. Nibel. It is not a fun trip, nor most likely the best idea, but it is their only option. With the helicopter their only means of returning to Midgar, they can't afford to waste the energy on a trip north. So, Sephiroth makes the call, and they hoof to towards Rocket Town.

Zack complains the entire time. Cloud eventually gives into the urge and shoves him face first in the snow.

It's not the worst trip in the world. The weather is relatively tame for the season, and they came well prepared, with plenty of warm clothes and shelter. Between the six of them, they had enough gear to keep comfy.

Cloud can't believe he's on what basically counts as a camping trip with not only General Sephiroth, but his weird second in command, said SiC's girlfriend, Cloud's childhood best friend, and the weird guy Cloud found in a basement.

His life is strange.

Still, at least it's not boring. Smiling to himself, Cloud hefts his bag higher, trying to ignore how it hurts. He'd healed mostly from his battle with Sephiroth but was still rather sore. It's going to be a long trip north, the man sighs.