Notes: Now I start setting up for a future story. Beware of typical Hojo in Seph's nightmares.

Prompt: Day 13 - Sleep

Sephiroth was usually good at keeping track of time. Somehow, during all of this calamitous situation, he wasn't. He was so spent and so hurt from the fight with that blasted dragon that he was often sleeping. During the times he wasn't, Kanga tried to help him get his strength up with food and he limped around the house.

It also seemed like when he slept lately, he kept dreaming of strange things that he was pretty sure had never happened. Pretty sure, and yet he couldn't swear to it. In the dreams, he was just too young to ever consciously remember such incidents happening while awake.

The most common dream involved him flying around what seemed to be a laboratory as a baby. He only bore two wings there—the two lower ones—and he never seemed to tire either of flying or of landing on top of high cupboards, both of which were frustrating a shadowy figure he couldn't place. The man wore a white coat and had his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, and he fumed and yelled the more Sephiroth flew away from him. Every attempt to get him down only led to Sephiroth flitting off again. Was it all a game to him or did he see the danger in the man that seemed obvious now in these nightmares?

Today's dream was different. The scientist, furious at Sephiroth's escapes, had restrained the terrified infant and tied his wings against his body. Sephiroth was crying and screaming, upset to be bound and quite possibly even in pain. And as the man sneered and spoke in a dangerously patronizing voice, the wings suddenly vanished.

Sephiroth jumped in the bed with a gasp, his eyes flying open.

"Oh . . . are you alright?" Pooh Bear asked in concern from where he was sitting in a chair nearby.

Sephiroth sighed, passing a hand over his eyes. "Yes."

"You looked like you were having a nightmare," Pooh observed. "Nightmares are never fun."

"No, they're not," Sephiroth grunted. "But at least they're not real and never have been."

He was troubled, though. They were so vivid, and if the information Genesis had previously brought him was correct, his birth father was indeed a mad scientist and his earliest years had been spent in a laboratory before his birth mother had finally escaped with him. Was there any chance that these dreams were buried memories?

How could they be, though? His wings came at age five, created from his strong emotions over his first heroic act.

But . . .

The lower two wings did retract. . . .

What if he had been born with those wings and they had been out until the mad scientist had threatened them? Maybe he had retracted them to protect them from the man and had been far too young to remember it or how to get them back, and then when he had created the top wing from his emotions at age five, the lower wings had emerged again as well and he had thought he had created all of them?

What bizarre thoughts. Did it really matter anyway?

It was at least interesting to think about, in some ways. He loved his wings and would be curious to know if the truth about them was different than what he had thought. Overall, though, he tried not to think too much about his early life or that mad scientist. His adopted parents were the ones he saw as his real parents. He was certainly grateful to his birth mother, however, for bringing him into the world and then getting him away from his birth father.

Perhaps . . . deep down, he did wish he knew more.

Not that he was ever likely to be able to.

"Sometimes I find that talking about my nightmares helps me feel better," Pooh suddenly said. "Would you like to talk about yours?"

He definitely didn't, but he was curious at the bear's insight. "Not really," he grunted. "But you're welcome to talk about yours, if you want."

"Thank you. I haven't had any lately," Pooh said. "But when I do, they're usually things like being chased by heffalumps and woozles . . . or finding everyone has left and I'm all alone." He looked down.

Sephiroth had no idea what heffalumps and woozles were supposed to be, but he could relate to the other dream topic. He had sadly really been alone not that long ago in the past. "Are there many who live here?" he asked.

"Oh yes," Pooh smiled. "There are others you haven't met—Rabbit and Owl and Gopher. . . . Christopher Robin when he's not at school. . . . And Sora visits."

Why was that not a surprise. "I know Sora," Sephiroth said.

Pooh brightened at that. "Sora is a good friend," he said.

Sephiroth gave a thoughtful nod. "He is."

"Do you see him a lot?" Pooh asked.

"Not often," Sephiroth said. And he definitely didn't care to say that the last time he had seen Sora—when they had become friends—another of these same mysterious dragons had nearly killed him and Sora hadn't given up trying to revive him for ages. It seemed too dark a subject for this innocent place and mind.

"Me neither," Pooh sighed. Smiling, he added, "But I'm happy for every time he comes."

Sephiroth nodded. "Sora is busy. But I'm sure he comes every chance he's able."

"Yes. . . . I hope he'll come again soon," Pooh said. "Oh . . . you said you have friends back in your world. What are your friends like?"

Sephiroth leaned back into the pillows. "One is Zack Fair. He's a lot like Sora, actually—friendly, wanting to be helpful, always very justice-driven and full of hopes and dreams."

"I would like Zack," Pooh smiled.

"The other is Cloud Strife. He can be serious and aloof, but he loves and cares deeply." And while Sephiroth was worried about both of them, he had to admit that it was Cloud's possible reactions that were concerning him the most. Of the two friends, Cloud was the least emotionally stable and he took loss far harder than most. That was a dangerous combination.

"Oh." Pooh pondered this. "Is he like Eeyore?"

That was not a question Sephiroth had expected. ". . . In a way, I suppose," he said. "But he isn't quite as pessimistic."

"Maybe more like Rabbit then," Pooh said. "Although Rabbit is quite high-strung."

Sephiroth smirked at that. "Sometimes Cloud can be too." Especially if he was getting bent out of shape about loose feathers.

"All friends are so different," Pooh mused. He smiled as he added, "But it's so wonderful to have them."

"Yes," Sephiroth thoughtfully agreed. "It is."