Final Fantasy VII 1. Welcome Home, Kitty!

Chapter 1: _Welcome Home, Kitty_

"Clear!" the scout called back. The phrase was echoed by distant shoulders hidden by the brush. Zack finally loosened his grip on the Buster Sword and took a shaky breath.

"Area secured." the captain bellowed from the trucks. "Haul in and prepare to move out!"

After hours of smashing down monsters, the handful of SOILDER had finally cleared a path for the convoy. No one really knew how it happened. The monsters had popped up in the middle of nowhere, on a well-patrolled route, hours away from any known nests, and in both a variety and strength uncommon for this side of the marshlands. It was just a lightly-wooded, well-packed trail that never had unusual problems. Until today.

Zack sighed. Everything had been going so smoothly. He had been looking forward to seeing the look on Angeal's face when he reported in, for the first time _ever,_ that everything had gone according to plan. It had been a routine mako reactor inspection: drive there, get in, get out, and come home. It was simple – so simple that there was no way it could have gone wrong. They hadn't planned for any monster problems, especially not between Kalm and Midgar. Now, here he was, covered in monster gunk from head to toe for the fifth time this month. The joke was getting a little stale.

The third heard the tromp of others as they made their way back to the small convoy. Preparing to join them, Zack sheathed his sword. But a rustling nearby made him freeze.

Swiveling, Zack brought his sword forward. Worst case it would be another behemoth, best case it would be a bird. Birds were nice as long as they didn't shit on your face. The leaves parted. What staggered out of the bushes wasn't a dragon, tonberry, or even anything remotely like a monster – it was a cat. A fluffy, sliver, sleepy-eyed cat. A pair of pretty green eyes stared up at him, uncomprehending, before the creature fell to it's side.

Before sense kicked in, Zack sheathed his sword and squatted down to examine the little cat. It wasn't a breed that Zack was familiar with, but it's size did remind him of a Gongagan cat. The cats back home had been great for hunting frogs; cats tended to be impervious to random status ailments, which as mighty helpful when the town was low on softs. Zack had seen cats in Midgar, mostly fat and pampered, and otherwise useless save for being adorable. Cats, being so small, were delicate. It was a real miracle that this little guy had managed to survive the monster onslaught. If the convoy hadn't made an unplanned stop, that little cat probably wouldn't have survived.

"Hey, little guy," Zack gingerly picked up the cat, which lay like deadweight in his hand. The fur probably would have been soft if it weren't so gnatted. The cat felt light for its size, but not underweight. "did all those monsters tucker you out? You didn't fight them did you?" A paw twitched as if in response. A smile was blooming on Zack's face.

It was pretty dangerous out here. Who knows how long a poor, defenseless cat could last against the monsters if they came again. Putting him back down would be like leaving him to die. Besides, Zack had been wanting a cat. Being a farm boy at heart made the empty apartment seem lonely. Plus, his shiny SOLDIER third apartment allowed pets.

"Hey, Faire!" Meyers crunched up behind him. The younger didn't bother to look up from the small animal. "It's time to get back to the truck. Put the monster guts down and let's go."

"I found a cat." Zack called back. He knew his comrade had a soft-spot for small animals. Most people would never peg the guy like that, given his constant scowl.

Meyers looked over Zack's shoulder. The third could practically feel the tension melt off of him. "You're not gunna just leave it 'ere are you?"

"I'm taking him home." Zack smiled down at the sleeping bundle of fur in his hands. With the way the cat hung so limply, it looked more like a poorly stuffed ragdoll.

"You better hide that from the Captain He'd jus' toss it out the back of the truck." Meyers reached a hand to rub the little thing's belly. The cat didn't even twitch.

"Got it." Zack handed off the kitten for a moment as he tore up the already shredded bits of his uniform. After wrangling the cat back from the cooing soldier, the third bundled the kitten into his shirt. It didn't look too abnormal. Meyers promised to spot him if things got bad.

The ride home had been interesting. It involved a few more hours of sitting in the truck, hushed communal cooing, and clever hiding of the cat, before they arrived at Midgar. His squad told him about vets and pet-sitters and ShinRa policy; Meyers was the most outspoken about it, which surprised a few, and Zack found himself content. When he smuggled the cat into the building, he got an odd look from the guard at the base of the elevator, but otherwise everything went smoothly. Before he went off to debriefing, he made sure his new little friend was nice and safe in his apartment. He would worry about the mess later.

* * *

As Sephiroth became aware of his existence, he could only think: '_Aren't I dead _yet?' After everything that happened, all the atrocities he committed, he wasn't dead. Strife had tried; but clearly it hadn't worked out. What happened after was a bit fuzzy, almost dream like. But he could only remember how green it had been, nothing more. Maybe he had gone back in time before he went insane and everything that just happened was a dream? That would be a laugh.

The path of destruction he had taken was still clear in the ex-general's mind. He had been doomed the first moment he set foot on the crazy train. For his entire life, there had always been this humming, demanding presence in the back of his mind. It told him to let go and stop caring. And for his entire life he had ignored it. Until Nibelheim. All it had taken was giving in for just a moment. That one, single moment had been ecstasy. He had yelled things that didn't make sense, set fire to a few buildings, and laughed like a madman – he had finally stopped caring about the repercussions of his actions, about being in total control.

But then everything spiraled out of anyone's control; no one could stop it. Back at Nibelheim, he hadn't paid much attention to the growing number of civilian bodies; he hadn't been paying much attention to anything. He hadn't cared anymore. Only after he stood down against Zack did he begin to realize something was wrong. His body wouldn't respond to his thoughts, he couldn't put his blade down and instead cut his comrade down. What he had thought would be freedom soon turned into a constricting cage – one that made the walls and labs of ShinRa look luxurious in comparison. He was trapped in his own body, pulled along by the alien who called itself Mother. For years he was forced to watch each and every act done by the monster that wore his face.

If only Sephiroth could have stopped himself. Starting from the moment he began to lose Genesis, he began making all the wrong choices – choices that seemed like the only way at the time, choices that drove the gavel of fate down. Time and the mental anguish let him ruminate. The monster Hojo had made him knew no other way; but the creature that he was now would do something different. He wouldn't be bound by his own inhibitions and hesitations. The prescription of being the best wouldn't matter anymore, he would let Genesis win, he would save Genesis; and by doing so he would save Angeal; and by saving them he would stop himself. He couldn't help thinking about such things, Sephiroth knew it was useless. It wasn't as if he could go back in time and stop it.

What concerned him more was his current situation. The ex-general wasn't dead yet. That could only mean that the parasite had something else planned for him. It's uncanny silence was odd, but not unpleasant. He could only hope he wouldn't be summoning another meteor in an attempt to become a god again.

But he had a strange feeling that wasn't the case. Something was different, he couldn't put his finger on it; but something had changed. Maybe he was just over-thinking the alien's silence.

The more he thought of it, the more he felt something else. It weighed heavily on his heart in a way that reminded him of a duty. That was odd. He hadn't felt that sense of order and responsibility since he went on his last mission... right before he got that one way ticket to crazyville.

Sephiroth felt a muscle twitch and he became aware that he had a body. Didn't seem like it was encased in mako. The more he became aware of, the more wrong it felt. His body must have been horribly disfugured by now. From his head to his toes, everything was out of place. To top it off something still seemed to be attached to his ass of all things (only aliens would think of growing wings there. They had the worst taste.)

It was then that he became aware of his other senses. A quiet air vent whirred somewhere above him, telling him that he was inside. He could hazard a few guesses as to why he could be inside after everything he'd done, most of them involved prisons or labs. But it didn't smell like either of them. In fact, the air smelled painfully familiar (and like a monsters carcass). He couldn't quite place what it reminded him of. That bothered him, but he was sure he would have plenty of time to figure it out later.

When Sephiroth opened his eyes, he was surprised. Mostly he was surprised at the fact that he _could_ open his eyes. Ever since he fell into that vat of mako he hadn't been able to control a single muscle in his body; the parasite had decided that letting Strife one-up him hadn't been the best move. After he adjusted to the light, he was doubly surprised to see that he was laying on his side on a plush bed. Even with everything that way wrong with his body, he had been surprised he hadn't felt the soft cushioning beneath his ass.

The former god-to-be tried to figure out where he was. He was in a simple room. If his memory was correct, those walls looked like painted, military grade steel. They reminded him of SOLDIER apartments. That was odd...

Where could he be? There had still been a few clones wandering around outside the crater-barrier. It was possible that the parasite had willed them to bring him here. There was only one science facility on the northern continent, last the ex-general checked, and it had been Gast's. Fragments of Strife's memory told him that they looked nothing alike. Perhaps he was in a prison. The idea was laudable: who would lock up the man who nearly destroyed the world and put him out on a mattress?

Someone must have brought him here. He would have to wait and see.

In the meantime, he decided to explore. There was only so much he could see from his vantage and all this brooding was irritating him. Sephiroth tried to sit up; but found that his limbs moved so strangely that he simply fell back over. When he attempted to lift his arm; an awkward mass flopped up and then back down in his vision. This was just great. He couldn't move right, his body was a mess, and he had no idea where he was.

Sephiroth wriggled onto his stomach in an attempt to get his bearings. He tried not to be embarrassed about it, tried to reason that it was only a result of all those horrible mutations he hadn't had a say in, but he could only hope that no one could see him. He finally managed to push himself onto all fours with more effort than he remembered ever having to give. Ungracefully, Sephiroth sat backwards (perhaps falling would have been a better word), and took stock of his situation.

The room was still eerily familiar. It wasn't a transport, a prison, or a lab – at least like none Sephiroth had seen. It was something completely different. In sight, sounds, and scent: the name was hanging on the tip of Sephiroth's tongue. Sephiroth realized his mouth was a bit dry, and licked his lips. Only to find his tongue tongued something soft and pad-like just as soon as something wet touched his nose. Confused, Sephiroth lifted his hand, intent on discovering the disfiguration of his face, only to find a silvery paw hover in front of him.

A paw? Really? What in the planet's name had he been turned into this time?

Steeling himself, the ex-general looked down. He couldn't explain what he saw, even if he tried. The hind legs flailed ungracefully out in front of him that looked similar to a rabbits haunches. Between them was a thin silver tail – it seemed to be draped arm lengths away from him. He brushed one of those god-awful paws into his cheek. The pressure seemed to tangle against something and sent a strange tingle in the back of his skull and he quickly pulled it away. Whiskers? And a tail? That meant only one thing...

A jumping [1]. He was a tiny, pathetic jumping. Sephiroth had slashed through hundreds of them back when he was still just a child.

Sephiroth looked helplessly at the head of the bed, and then the foot of it. The distance between him and either side was too large. It was like he was in the middle of a helipad made up of mattress. Why hadn't he noticed that either?

There was one thing about being a huge monster with feathers; but there was no way Sephiroth was going to be a tiny, fluffy jumping.

If he was indoors somewhere, then there had to be a mirror. The former madman twisted and turned, he couldn't explain how he was unable to get up. The whole process was enough to make him go mad again.

Ah! There was a mirror. It was a small thing. If he weren't flopping around with so much grace, he wouldn't have seen it's glint on a bedside table. Getting to his feet... fours, did take more effort than he thought it would, but he did it. Small victories were necessary for his bunny form. Next time he was going to be bipedal; preferably something completely human, without wings on his ass.

After losing his balance, Sephiroth decided to move slowly. It was hard to estimate distance with his new size, but he guessed about a centimeter every few steps. What could have been hours later, he was nearly to his goal. However, blocking his path were large, fluffy pillows. Sephiroth had never hated pillows so much before.

The best course of action would be to jump. It would either be that or attempting to to clamber up like a man – rabbit – falling down a glacier. He knew from experience that jumpings did not fall very well, especially not down glaciers. It turns out, the first option wouldn't get him very far. On the bright side he learned he had claws – great for slashing into those horrible pillows. So he settled for clambering up.

For a moment, Sephiroth just lay there legs sprawled and panting. Once he got used to his new body he should be fine. Last time he transformed, he had been so pumped up of crazy juice that everything seemed to work just fine. Of course, Jenova has also promised him (repeatedly) that no amount of stabs or magic could hurt him. Alien logic was certainly ironic. Even at his stupidist, he could have told the creature that throwing enough firepower at one enemy would kill it eventually. Or at least turn it into a four-legged animal.

Speaking of animals, time to get that mirror. Now, atop the pillow, Sephiroth could see the simple hand mirror. It was unfortunate that the angle was wrong. Reaching out a hand... paw wasn't going to cut it, not when he couldn't even see the end of the pillow. Honestly, the curvature of the planet was easier to see. It looked like he was going to have to work his way across the fluffy tundra to figure out what he was. The parasite still wasn't offering any suggestions so he was just going to have to do it his way.

Even as Sephiroth contemplated how he was going to make it to the mirror in his condition, he noticed the glow of a clock beside it. Sephiroth couldn't remember the last time he had seen a clock. It was probably when another body of his stabbed a sword through President ShinRa's back. No wait, that didn't seem right... he must have known about it back when he floated on the U-Boat. But it was probably somewhere in the jumble of Strife's memories. That would explain why he couldn't remember. Even as Sephiroth thought, he noticed something odd.

The clock was wrong. It was those familiar, standardized clocks that the army used. The date was supposed to automatically adjust to ShinRa standard, regardless of where a soldier found themselves. But the technology came with multiple problems when it was rolled out and the date was always, _always_ wrong; more often than not no two had read the same date. Sephiroth remembered keeping an internal calendar. After a year or two, the system had been adjusted appropriately. But he had never been able to bring himself to trust them again. Meteor must have dealt a serious blow to the servers.

That clock read a date that was seven years ago. _Seven_. A strange hope ran through Sephiroth at the thought; as chilling as it was warming. But he didn't dare think about that. There was no way the clock was right. Maybe if he hit it enough times the date would be set correctly. That had always been Genesis's way of dealing with technology problems. After an ungraceful jaunt across the tundra and a sliding fall, he was finally on a solid surface. If he weren't so focused at the task at hand, he might have been fascinated by the way the wood felt against his paw pads. Instead, he began work on the clock.

A gentle bump wasn't enough. So he... pawed at it. The clock itself tilted a bit, but the date solidly remained the same. There should have been a button somewhere, he remembered it being somewhere around the back. He tried to bend his arm-leg around the back and – Sephiroth tried to feel guilty as the device clattered to the floor. It was clearly broken, useless now as it had been. And look, the mirror. Mission accomplished.

Sephiroth turned to look in the mirror. What looked back made him freeze. The creature staring back at him wasn't what he expected. It was a silver cat. Cat. A cat.

Sephiroth honestly had no idea how he felt about being a cat. A few twists and turns showed that he didn't have anything growing on his back. That was a welcome change. Maybe the alien finally got a sense for the anatomy of Gaian-creatures. He remembered how people always commented on his cat-like grace. At least his eyes would fit his species now. He seemed to be covered in something purple – he wanted to say it was monster blood, but he couldn't be certain. But it did fit the lingering odor of death.

A door swished open. It was the kind of swish that accompanied key-coded doors often found in Junon and headquarters. The sound distracted Sephiroth from his inspection.

The clatter of footsteps and dropped equipment made Sephiroth's ears twitch. He would have ruminated on the fact that they twitched quite violently and unintentionally if the smell hadn't hit him. It was a familiar smell, nostalgic even. Sephiroth had always been sensitive to smell when he was mostly human; but now it was ridiculous. He could taste the scent as if a cloud had wafted towards him and wrapped around him like a coat. The footsteps were getting closer.

The door to the bedroom opened and Sephiroth was too stunned to react. There, looking in with his trademark puppy-brand smile, was the one and only Zack Faire. He was dressed in those old SOLDIER thirds of his and looked like he had just met the bad end of a behemoth.

Those purple-eyes darted around the room before they caught sight of Sephiroth and sparkled. The ex-general didn't realize he had moved until something pressed against his spine – but it wasn't his spine – with a snap before it shattered. The sound caused Sephiroth to jump; it ended up being a little more than a sharp turn of the head. He flew right off the end table. He might have commented on how gracefully he arced and his claws extended if he wasn't busy trying to figure out how to land.

"Oh shit!" Zack's voice boomed. He couldn't see the movement so much as he could feel Zack running towards him – hearing him clambering around helped too. Sephiroth didn't expect to be caught. Two - _terrifyingly_ \- huge hands easily splayed across the length of his body. And he found himself staring straight into a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed puppy.

Had Zack always been... so large? His face practically took up all of Sephiroth's vision, he even blocked out the overhead light. Sephiroth rarely had the occasion to be shorter than someone back when he was human. After Jenova took complete control, she made sure to hover over anyone who had the apparent audacity to be taller than him. For a disembodied collection of cells, she was extremely vain.

"Well, you're just a bundle of trouble. Just like me." The laugh was warm and familiar; a laugh Sephiroth never expected to hear again. The sensation of being lifted spawned a wave of dizziness, and the cat flicked his head to and fro. It was hard trying to assess direction and space when he couldn't figure out what side was up. "You did some impressive damage there, little man."

When they stilled, the ex-general could look down at the room. From his new vantage, he could see large purple stains across the bed, hefty claw marks that spilled the stuffing on the pillows, a mostly undamaged clock on the floor, and a shattered mirror at the bedside.

_Cat-like grace, my ass,_ Sephiroth tried to snort. It came out as a sneeze instead.

"Hey now, that ain't something you can lift your nuzzle at. It's a nuzzle, right? Not a beak. Maybe it's a nose? Ah, whatever." Zack sat back on the bed, carrying Sephiroth with him. It was weird to be carried with a meager two hands. It wasn't as if he hadn't been carried before; but that was when he was a relatively large and well-muscled man. Men had literally groaned under the weight of his muscles; Zack was doing no such thing. It... kind of hurt the ex-generals pride. He couldn't help but notice that he could feel something slimy on Zack's fingers and he was pretty positive that there were indeed monster guts on his fur, probably courtesy of the younger man.

But all of that wasn't what was actually bothering Sephiroth. What was bothering him was the fact that Zack Faire – the same Zack Faire who he stabbed, got locked in a laboratory, and died a pitiful death – was standing in front of him like nothing had even happened. Maybe Sephiroth _was_ dead and weird shit like this just happened when people died.

As the ex-general was thinking, Zack re-arranged his hold. Now Sephiroth's feet... hind legs rested on a sturdy arm, and his torso was supported by an enwrapping hand. It was a bit irritating, being manhandled like this. It was almost on par with the annoyance he felt when he was in the labs, which was dull in comparison to what Jenova put him through.

"Don't you look happy." The derisive comment was said with a joking smile as he _bounced_ Sephiroth. Like a child! It took a moment for the former madman to realize that Zack was examining him as he did so. If he could compare it to anything, it was similar to the way Hojo assessed his experiments. But this was Zack. There was something completely different about it and it made him squirm even as he was bobbed up and down. If Zack wasn't... well, Zack, Sephiroth might have been concerned. Wait, shouldn't he be more concerned?

"You're a cool cat." Zack finally stopped that incessant bobbing. Sephiroth could only hope that he wouldn't start again anytime soon – or ever again. "And I'm not just saying that. You managed to survive such a badass monster attack without even a scratch! Well, you did seem kind of out of it. It was only a few hours ago and you're already back on your feet! You're super amazing." Sephiroth stared up at the ghost being. He was trying to tell himself that it couldn't be Zack, that there was no way, but that scent, that incessent yammer, and the way he narrowed his eyes and pouted his lip when he thought all pointed to the opposite. "Hey, you know what? You remind me of someone."

_Don't you dare say Strife. Don't you _dare_, Faire. _Perhaps Sephiroth should have ruminated on the fact that he fell so easily into Zack's flow; but he was too busy wishing that he could never be compared to Strife again. The parasite thought that had been a perfect pair and had liked to remind the both of them of their similarities day in and day out. It had been torturous for the both of them.

"That's it! You remind me of Sephiroth."

_You have got to be kidding me. _He didn't know whether that was funny or not.

"It's probably just the way you glare at me. Hmm... might be your nice silver coat too. Since you're a cat you probably don't know who he is. But he's... uh... he's kinda scary, but in a well-meaning way. Short patience though. I really respect him. I've always wanted to try calling him Seph, but Angeal told me I might get stabbed."

_I would have and still will. _If there was one thing Zack could do – ghost or real – it was talk people into sheer frustration. It was one of his special talents. When he had been watching Hojo perform experiments on Faire, he had half expected Zack to get out of it all with a flurry of bad jokes. That had almost happened – three times, actually.

"Oh, that's what I should call you! Seph!"

_That's it. Be silent and let me think. _The former madman reached out to claw Zack's blood covered armor. It wouldn't have done much damage, but he wanted to get his point across. However, his claws rested peacefully inside his paw and his pads gently pushed against Zack's chest. This body was stupid. At the action, the man grinned down at him. _This is ridiculous. _

"You like it? That's great!"

Sephiroth wondered if he could get a knife that would fit in his paw in order to stab Zack. A jumping could equip itself, so he should be able to.

"I did sort of smuggle you inside here. After I get monster gut off me I'll have to take you to the vet. Just to be sure you aren't sick or anything. I should get this gunk off me. Oh, and you too, haha. We're quite a pair. Don't worry, Seph, I'll take good care of you. Just try not to break everything, okay?"

There was no way that just happened. It couldn't mean what Sephiroth thought it meant. There was no way he, that alien bitch, or anything that was right in the world could let this happen. Sephiroth would not be ghost-Zack's pet. Temporarily or otherwise. Never.

[1] If you might recall, jumping are those rabid bunnies on the northern continent with oversized ears, fluffy tails and come equipped with a carrot. They're also pretty damn pathetic.


	2. Bath Time

Chapter 2: _Bath Time_

Sephiroth couldn't decide which was more suffocating: the scent of a month's worth of unlaundered uniforms or Zack's affection. Being trapped in the bathroom didn't help either; especially not Zack's bathroom with it's broken ventilation system firmly closed door. Clearly he was in hell, a place of torture.

The ghost, however, didn't seem to mind the smell or the smothering at all. "Aww, man. I forgot to wash my uniforms again." Just like a dog, weird smells did nothing but excite Zack. Sephiroth hoped this wasn't going to be a recurring thing. "Whelp. I'll do it later. Time to wash!"

With little more announcement, the former madman was dumped onto the counter and Zack promptly shed his clothes. Aside from a few claw marks, nothing looked out of ordinary on the youth's body. Nothing like, say, a few hundred bullet wound scars or discolored injection sites or a tattoo marking him as Sephiroth's clone. It made the ex-general wonder. Could this ghost-Zack really be Zack? He looked a lot younger than when he had died – perhaps even... seven years younger. That clock couldn't have been right could it?

Heedless of the inspection, Zack bounced around and turned the water on in the small tub. Judging by the steam, he planned on taking a bath and not a shower. Sephiroth had always thought Zack was a shower man. It always seemed like he didn't have enough patience to take a bath. Wait, no – that's not what he should be thinking about. There was a whole cat-body ghost-Zack situation here.

The cat glanced behind him, taking in his reflection in the growing steam. His reflection stared back at him without change. Honestly, he was expecting something to be different. If this was truly hell, or he was dead, he figured there would be something ominous staring back at him in the reflection; like an all knowing truth or something. He wasn't entirely sure. But it was all normal – all full of blood-splattered cat and Zack's Gonganianly tan ass. This whole situation was too bizarre. The ex-general couldn't even make sense of it. Maybe he should take a page out of Zack's book, and, as the puppy often said, 'roll with it.'

"Alright," Zack hopped back over the six inches between the tub and the counter to pick the cat up. Sephiroth felt odd, with all of his limbs dangling with out purchase as he was supported by two strong hands around his torso. He wondered if this was what being a baby felt like. "You ready for a bath, Seph?"

_Do I look ready? _He huffed in response. While Sephiroth didn't exactly want to get bathed by Zack of all people (at least it wasn't Reno, something in the back of his mind told him), he didn't really have any other choice. Covered head to foot... paw in monster guts with no hands to wash himself with, Sephiroth was pretty much at the mercy of the ghost. And even if he _was _a cat, there was no way he was going to lick himself clean. He had standards.

"Haha. I thought not. Don't worry. We'll go in together. Just try not to claw me."

Sephiroth seriously doubted that his claws would do any damage to Zack, if he even figured out how to pull them out. Judging by his current state of abilities, the claws would just get shorn off by the puppy's thick SOLDIER skin. Maybe, just maybe, once the ex-general got used to his body he could be on par with his old – less mad – self. And then he would get out of this strange hell made up of ghosts and dirt and godawful smells.

When Zack dipped in the tub, Sephiroth found the steam pleasantly warm. The sensation of submurging feet first into water wasn't so strange. Only he couldn't seem to get traction on anything. Sephiroth ended up with splayed fingers... paws on Zack's chest and stomach. Even when he pushed, it felt like he might fall into the water. Not that he didn't trust Zack to not drop him – the kid was a clutz though – but he doubted his ability to swim. He hadn't even been able to walk across a bed!

"Not so bad, is it?" A warm, wet hand rubbed against his head. It brushed gently against the ex-general's ears. The feeling wasn't unpleasant. It was actually pretty nice. Sephiroth sighed as he felt the ghost's overly large hands slowly massage his body. Some part of him wondered why he had never gotten a massage in human form. Clearly he had been missing out. Maybe he would have been less of a crazy psycho if he had just gotten one.

With soft rubbing motions from head to the tip of his spine, Zack cleaned Sephiroth. Though it almost pained the former madman to admit, he was relaxing heavily on Zack's chest. They were situated so the cat was largely laying flat, head just above the water. When Sephiroth managed to open his eyes enough to stare at the still-massaging Zack, he was rewarded by a bright smile and a sparkle in his eyes.

Sephiroth felt himself sigh contentedly. Only, he didn't; something vibrated deeply in his chest. And, like a switch that had been struck it didn't shut off. Was... he _purring_? No. Of course he couldn't actually be...

"You like that? Good. We'll take baths together more often. Now, hup," Zack easily lifted Sephiroth up and out of the bath. The sudden chill of the air made Sephiroth instinctively curl up. He was placed gingerly on the toilet seat. "I gotta clean myself up and then we'll dry off."

Sephiroth watched Zack bathe in purple water for a while. Really... he had just been in that? The cat did a once over of his fur. But it looked a nice, damp gray – not a hint of purple in sight.

Zack was out of the bath soon after and letting it drain as he pulled a towel from a higher shelf to towel off his hair. He didn't make any moves to dry off Sephiroth, so the cat assumed he was left to his own devices. Sephiroth examined his wet paws. He flicked one experimentally. A few drops of water flicked off and splattered onto Zack. The ghost looked back with a pout, as if upset at the treatment. It wasn't as if Sephiroth had aimed for him. But the bathroom was too small for the water to go anywhere else. Aside from shaking himself dry, the cat didn't see any other way to get the sopping wetness off of him. How glamorous.

If he were human and had hands, he could easily grab a towel and dry himself. But he wasn't. He was still one hundred percent a cat.

Thankfully, the specter seemed to read his mind, as a towel was dropped over his head. Sephiroth felt it's dampness and was smothered in Zack's scent. Clearly it was the one he had just been using. The thought of using Zack's used towels was a bit disgusting and, unfortunately, not any less disgusting than sharing a bath with him. But the towel was just left on him. What was Sephiroth supposed to do with it? Rub it? He experimentally brushed against the damp fabric with his face. He didn't feel any drier.

"Here we go." It was the only warning he had. Because suddenly, out of legitimetely nowhere, two hands began to unceremoniously smother the towel all over him. From his face to his legs, from the underside to the piece of his spine he recognized to be a tail. It was not gentle, but at least he wasn't being smushed into a pile of skin and bones. He would have to keep in mind: towel drying with Zack, not the most intelligent plan. Sephiroth felt as if every one of his hairs had been pulled in the wrong direction. When the towel finally came off, Sephiroth just stood there frozen. It was like he'd gone through a car wash without a car.

The young solder tilted his head to the side. Sephiroth knew that look. It was Zack assessing his handiwork. Usually his handiwork was something gone terribly wrong, but the puppy never even noticed. And usually it meant that it was about to get worse. A dazzling smile lit his features, telling the cat that the specter had come up with an idea. He turned an rifled through some nearby drawers with that susppicious smile on his face.

Sephiroth huffed. He was still trapped in the bathroom – Zack's body completely blocked the exit of the tiny thing – was still soaked and was only getting more irritated. The sense of his hairs being pulled in the wrong direction all across his body was making him uniquely uncomfortable. Seeing as he was at the mercy of ghost-Zack, he decided that he was going to smooth his fur in the time being. He picked up on of his front paws and looked at it for a moment. What on earth could he do with that thing? He pressed the paw along his other leg, smothing down the fur. He repeated the motion. Two shiny, smoothed front legs. Great. Now what about the rest of him? There was no way, even if he was in hell, that he was going to lick himself. Ever.

With far too much clattering and an overexcited laugh, Zack turned around with a comb. Sephiroth was, admittedly, a bit dumbfounded. He didn't even know Zack _owned_ a comb. Did the soldier even know how to use it? The excitable ghost was hovering with the comb in hand. The cat, in turn, simply stared at the incoming object with abject horror. Considering the towel treatment, this wasn't going to be pleasant.

With one hand on Sephiroth's neck, Zack began the process of brushing the cat's fur. There was nothing delicate or precise in the way he handled the brush. Sephiroth could only be grateful that his skull wasn't crushed under Zack's ministrations and neither his eyes pushed out of his sockets.

"Don't you look nice." Zack sat back and examined his work.

_I don't even want to know what I look like right now. _Sephiroth probably looked as horrible as he felt after that brushing. It wasn't like he cared that much about his appearance. Of course, he had been when he was mostly human. But after that hideous thing that Strife had dubbed Bizzaro Sephiroth, well... anything and everything that was him not being that was hundreds of times better – even when he had wings on his butt. Even if for the rest of his undead days, Zack was going to clean, wash, dry, and dress his hair... fur, Sephiroth shouldn't complain.

Despite the disgruntled look the cat tried to convey, the puppy was quite pleased. Sephiroth knew this because Zack started laughing and patting himself on the back; which turned quickly into a scratching. Meanwhile, he left his own, unbrushed mess of a head untouched. The comb was abandoned somewhere on the counter. Go figure.

The naked man finally deigned to wear some clothes. It took quite some time for him to scrounge around in the bathroom to find something that wasn't growing mold or spawning monster carcasses. It smelled like it came from the bottom of the laundry hamper – in fact the cat watched Zack dig it out from right there.

Wrinkling his nose, Sephiroth realized he shouldn't have expected anything different. He should be glad, even, that he didn't put on the seriously blood-splattered (he _hoped _that was blood) clothes and cover Sephiroth in more stains. The soldier didn't even bother searching for underwear as he pulled on his pants. He stopped mid-button when he noticed Sephiroth's huff.

There is was. That guilty look he got when he knew he was doing something bad. The formal general was a bit surprised he hadn't seen it yet. Whenever they ran into each other, Zack would always give him that wide eyed look and fail horribly at covering for whatever antics he had concocted.

"What?" Zack whined with a pout. "It's not like you have to wear pants or anything. Don't judge me!"

Sephiroth rolled his eyes at the comment. It didn't work out so well; a thin veil came up behind his eyes instead. Must have been that second eyelid there; he had always wondered what it would be like to have one, but it wasn't as pleasant as he expected. Mostly just annoying. The puppy didn't even notice the cat's failed attempt at exasperation and was already shucking on a shirt.

Zack finally opened the bathroom door. Zack tromped out and into the living space. Sephiroth glanced around the still humid and stenching room, before he looked to the floor. He wasn't actually going to have to _walk_? On Zack's floor? The thought made him shudder slightly. The ghost was scrounging around outside and seemed to make no signs of returning. Sephiroth took a deep breath. Zack's floor couldn't be anymore disgusting than sharing a bath and towel with the guy.

Sephiroth jumped off the toilet seat. It was a bit too late he realized that he didn't really know how to jump – especially not after that spectalar attempt on the bed. With a horrible clatter and a sharp thump, Sephiroth fell onto the tiled floor.

_Fuck_. He cursed, but the sound that came out of his mouth was not a work at all. It was just that – a goddamn sound. Sephiroth didn't know what pissed him off more: being on the floor betwixt mountains of Zack's dirty clothes or his body. Hid horrible cat body that didn't move the way he wanted it to and made weird ass adorable noises.

The cat set his jaw and picked his way across the floor and out of the bathroom. He was happy to finally be in fresher air, but it was noticeably chill. It was probably because his hair... fur was still wet. The apartment was the same layout as he remembered third classes being: a small kitchenette in the main room with just enough space for a table or couch opposite (but not both, he remembered hearing complained), and right off of them was a single bedroom and bathroom. But it was strange seeing it the way he was now. Not being carried meant that Sephiroth had a much lower vantage point – it was much shorter than he had ever experienced. He could probably get a better understanding of the actual state of Zack's apartment if he jumped on something. But that in itself was a terrifying concept. Who knows what was waiting for him on the countertops?

Moving across strange stains and boxes that littered the floor, Sephiroth found Zack sitting next to his abandoned equipment. The ghost was pulling on his standard issue boots – not even bothering with socks. The cat settled in to watch him do battle with his shoelaces, and he hoped that the strange green mass next to him hadn't once been food. Zack was... just disgusting. There were few times in his memory that Zack hadn't been covered head to toe in something or another. He attracted dirt better than an actual dog. Clearly it was a natural talent. A natural talent that ghost Zack was proving to be equally efficient in.

Sephiroth figured that he must be in a special place in hell – one filled with uncleanliness and dirt and-! Did...did that green mass that shouldn't be alive and clearly wasn't food just move? The cat eyed it warily. It was definitely moving. He had the sinking feeling he was going to get eaten alive by it.

Mostly dressed, Zack finally stood. Sephiroth spared a glance away from the terrifying moving thing.

The soldier bounced onto his feet and loomed over Sephiroth. The former general was definitely going to have to get used to the whole being ridiculously tiny thing. He had never met a giant before – he himself had been a towering monstrous _thing_ at once point – but he imagined it wouldn't be that different than the sensation he had of being dwarfed by Zack's sheer size. With a quick bend to the knee, the soldier had already snatched Sephiroth with those large hands of his. Sephiroth was held eye-level with Zack, and the puppy beamed at him.

"Time to go to the vet!"

_What's a vet?_ Sephiroth had the sinking feeling he didn't want to know.


End file.

Final Fantasy VII, Adventure, Humor