The rain came.
It washed the shattered and splintered remains of what had briefly been the greatest city in the world. Cloud wasn't certain if it had been great, but it had been massive and that gave him an infinite number of places he could hide. If he hadn't had to scrounge and scavenge for survival, he would have been able to hide… forever, maybe. But resources were slim unless he lowered himself enough to eat monsters - which, eventually, he had. But it was the lack of water that had driven him out of hiding when it began to fall from the sky.
Thick, dark clouds swirled overhead and the rumbles of thunder were so close together it was like one long rolling heartbeat calling Cloud to them. He knew he'd been spotted, they'd never stopped looking for him in all the months since he'd fled Edge, but he was too tired to do anything but stare up at the sky and let the rain pour over his face and wipe weeks worth of grime and pain from his skin. His clothing was soaked in seconds, weighing him down and making him sway in place - barely able to hold himself up.
He was so, so tired.
And he was filled with what had been promised to him, that he had rejected so many times now. Had it been a dozen times now, that his mortal enemy had returned and offered him despair if only he'd beg for it? It had been unthinkable, before, but there was nothing left for him to feel.
Cloud licked his lips, sucking in a small breath before he let it out in a plaintive whisper.
"Sephiroth?"
"Cloud?" Sephiroth's hand was cold against his cheek, and that should have been disturbing, but Cloud tipped his head fully into the touch. He let the chill sink into him with the rain, gratefully letting it slip inside his skull. It sapped the fear and panic and overexertion along with his will. Both felt good, at that point, regardless of how it should be.
He kept his eyes closed, slumping forward slightly and let himself be caught and dragged closer. His forehead came to rest on a heavy metal pauldron, his skin tingling where they met, almost sinking through it, as though it were only half-real.
"When was the last time you slept, Cloud?" Sephiroth asked, the question dangerous and the answer more so. As though Sephiroth didn't know he dreamt of him, every night. Every damned night he came and asked if Cloud was ready to get on his knees for him, to beg for forgiveness, to forsake everything and everyone.
Cloud couldn't be anything but honest, it was too late anyway. "I don't remember," he said. The inevitability was somehow freeing. He was too weak to fight anymore, and he'd left his sword behind in the church - they'd been smart enough to get between him and his weapons before making their 'generous offer'...
Generous and glorious, the words slipped into his head and echoed back and forth in harmony and he could feel the ghost's surprise when he didn't fight it. Sinking down to his knees was so easy, and he looked up to see Sephiroth's teeth flash, white against pale lips, "Good… that will make this easier, then."
Sephiroth's body might have been insubstantial but Cloud's wasn't much better. Thinner than he'd been even after the lab, worn down from running and surviving in Midgar's ruins - hiding from friends and allies who wanted to put him down for his own good - for the good of the planet that he'd suffered and sacrificed everything for.
So long as Cloud lived and breathed and remembered, Sephiroth could never truly die.
Sephiroth wondered, as he sank into the fragile body that went lax and sighed with relief as its pain and fear were gently devoured, if they realized they were the harbingers of their own doom. He lingered in the memories of shock and betrayal, bringing them forward and feeling the form he occupied shake with the grief of it. There had been the temptation to give in, but oh his puppet wasn't quite as pure and selfless as all that. He could have told them that Cloud was a survivor, and it was one of the many things Sephiroth adored about him.
It was ironic, nearly hysterically so. A Cloud with nothing left to lose was far more dangerous than Sephiroth had ever been alone.
Cloud's body was weak from hunger and constant vigilance, but Midgar still reeked of Mako and the life's blood of the planet had more than enough energy to fuel it if only Cloud had known how to make it part of himself. Sephiroth drew Cloud's consciousness forward, guiding it with an easy hand, and showed him what to do. He raised Cloud's arm, fingers beckoning with a faint tremble, and their body gasped as power trickled up from the cracks in broken concrete and flowed into them.
"They never bothered to drain the reactors, did they?" Sephiroth asked as he flexed their hands, and rolled his head on their neck to test their range of motion. Cloud shook their head. "They said it was too dangerous."
"Hm, it is now." Sephiroth's soft laugh was strange in their throat, and the sound made the enemy close behind them stumble.
Sephiroth blinked and Cloud's sight went dark. He felt wet heat splash across their face, and all he felt was gratitude that he didn't know who that was - had been.
They were turned away from the corpse when Sephiroth gave him back his vision, but their hands were covered in blood. They looked around for a moment, Cloud dizzy with the dissonance of the two of them sharing one form. He'd never felt so weak, or so powerful. Was this how Sephiroth felt all the time?
"You alone are permitted to see the former," Sephiroth said, turning towards the epicenter of the rubble that had once been Shinra Tower, "but the latter… always."
"What are you-" Cloud's words were cut off as their hand came up to cover his lips for a moment, Sephiroth's voice warm on his palm, "We, Cloud, it will always be US now - do not assume you have no part in the outcome."
Cloud shuddered, their shoulders trembling and chest aching with an emotion that he wasn't sure was terror or relief. Sephiroth turned toward running footsteps, closing Cloud's eyes again, "Don't worry puppet, it will all be over soon."
A length of metal was plucked from the side of a ruined building, rusted rebar shaken loose from a plug of concrete, and it took only a tiny bit of the mana stolen from the lifestream to make Masamune manifest. Someone screamed as Cloud felt their body shift. He felt nauseated, head swimming and feeling light as though he might drift right out of their body.
The sick feeling intensified briefly as his soul was yanked back down, "You don't have to see or feel anything if you don't want to, but you're not abandoning me. Together, forever."
Their chest heaved in a sob before Cloud subsided again. He let Sephiroth close his mind's eye, felt the brief flares of pain from blades and bullets and materia, but without Cloud at their sides… it was futile. There was no one else strong enough, and there was a dark and bitter part of him - part of Cloud and not Sephiroth - that was satisfied. They didn't want him, after saying how important he was to them, but in the end they'd expected him to perform the ultimate sacrifice and had turned on him when he'd refused to fall on his blade.
They'd made the mistake of confronting him in the church. They might have convinced him anywhere else. But in front of Zack? In front of his sword, the weapon wielded to save Cloud's own life at any cost at the highest price at the penultimate symbol of an unconditional love that had wanted Cloud to live no matter what?
It had made it easy for Sephiroth to get in and Cloud should hate himself for inviting him. But if no one else wanted him…
Cloud had honestly expected to be destroyed when he'd whispered the name, consumed, swallowed down to nothing. He hadn't been ready for his ending in the church, hadn't realized how much it would break him to have them trying to kill him as it had when they'd given him the choice to do it himself. It was, perhaps, more natural to want to be taken out by an enemy than a friend.
Time ceased to have meaning and Cloud rested, slept deeply and well until it was over - just as Sephiroth promised. A white haze softened everything around him and pressed down down down down. It surrounded him, layer by layer, seven wings, plush and pure.
Cloud wondered if this was what a piece of sand felt like trapped inside an oyster's shell. Encased and enraptured as it was forced to transform from a bit of nothing into a treasure worth keeping. No one else wanted to keep Cloud. Not forever, anyway. He'd been disposable in the end, worth just as much as he'd thought he did.
"No, Cloud," feathers dripped down their face, tracing tear streaks and cleaning them away, "you were never nothing. Even an empty puppet has a purpose, and even objects can be kept and adored."
Cloud shifted in confusion, adored? Sephiroth hated him, didn't he? Like he hated everyone else. Like he hated the planet. Like he hated everything … but…
"Everything but you."