Final Fantasy VII 1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

I'm back, yet again, with another story! Yes, I know, I'm in the middle of writing five others, but hey, I do update on a regular basis. This story is sort of a companion piece to 'Fourth Time's the Charm', except, it's not… Well, let it be said that you don't have to read Fourth Time to understand this one, but it recommended you at least peruse chapter one. Why? I reference slightly towards it in this chapter.

Anywho, you may notice that in this chapter, I swing through First and Third perspective. Why? I felt like it. Okay? I also have no freakin' clue where this story is going or where it will end up or where it came from, but I hope you all enjoy the journey with me!

**Rating (Chapter): **PG-13 (implied violence, mild gore, mild language...)

**Word Count: **3,096 (short, I know, alas!)

**Disclaimer: **To quote another writer, "These are not my characters, I'm just abusing them."

**Not Again!**

**By Catsitta**

**Chapter One: **The end of an era

_Sand entombed cities are all that remains of a once proud civilization. Empty shells of buildings mark the landscape—concrete, glass and steel collapsed and in ruin, like a field of bones. These manmade corpses were once the peak of technological advancement. Now, all they represent are but shadows in the dark. This world is no longer safe for humans; Gaia herself ravaged the population with her WEAPONS. But some try to make a life in this desert. One of these fools is a WEAPON himself, though I doubt he realizes it. He believes he is the savior and hero of this Plant and the human race She tried to annihilate._

_ His name is Cloud Strife._

_ Mine is Sephiroth._

_ For years, we danced in battle for he was the only one ever to be my equal. Cloud was but an unnamed, faceless trooper when his quest began. I was the General of the ShinRa military, my face and name known around the world, striking terror into every heart. Then I learned the truth…or so I thought. _

_ I admit, believing Jenova to be my mother was quite foolish. As the years progressed, reality was hardly kind and despite realizing that I was no closer her kin than any other mortal, I still followed her. She whispered in my mind promises of grandeur. I was to be a god. This world, Gaia, was on the path to destruction, all I had to do was destroy it and all my dreams could come true._

_ Cloud, however, stood in my path every step of the way. Every time I grew in strength, so did he, and as did that group of allies he traipsed around with. They thwarted my transcendence, but they were too late to stop the cycle already in motion._

_ The world was ending. _

_ Despite this, that little hero still preserved. He watched his friends die one by one, and the Planet he fought so hard to save fade into nothingness. All that remains of his victory is miles and miles of sand, like an ocean but more vast and utterly lifeless. I have won. The little hero, my puppet, my clone—he still does not realize that there is nothing left for him to save. _

_ I believe he thinks me dead. How I savor the thought of besting him in battle and sending him into the void of the afterlife. The Lifestream is weak, barely a trickle beneath our feet, and corrupted with Jenova's taint. Yes. After I kill Cloud Strife, my destiny will be fulfilled. Jenova may not be my mother, but her thirst for destruction will at last be sated and her voice silenced._

_So come to me, my puppet. I know you can hear me. Just leave it all behind, Cloud. All you want is to find peace in death; I am most willing to grant you that blessing. Let us dance one last time. I have returned to make good on my promise, little hero. You shall die and from the ashes of your defeat, I will rise again. _

_Yes. I can feel it now. Gaia cannot contain me any longer; Her pain is too great. Her sorrow is my revival—my rebirth. If the Planet itself cannot destroy my essence with her lifeblood, then you, little hero, have no chance. Until you give up and realize that you must die, then I will always remain. Your pathetic struggles are my immortality. Your failure will be my renewal. Only gods live forever Cloud, and you are merely human. _

_I…I…wait…something…is not…right…_

_The light…it is too bright. Where… where am I? _

_So bright…so bright…I'm drowning in light. Where is the darkness? I am always reborn in darkness. Shadows and mako, a birth within Gaia's womb. This…this is not…So bright…Can't…can't breathe. Why do I feel so…weak…?_

000X000

Sephiroth opened his eyes.

Staring down at him were strangers clad in white coat and masks. A bright surgical light poured over him, illuminating the otherwise darkened room. Groaning, he glanced away from his observers towards the source of his growing pain. His entire left arm was a ruined mass of sinew and flesh, pearly bone gleaming through clotted blood and torn skin. Had this been a new experience to the silver warrior, then he might have found reason to scream. Though, even if he had reason, the breathing machine would have muffled any cries—the unnatural feeling of plastic tubing down his throat threatened to make him gag.

But the pain…it was tolerable, yes, but he could not remember when a flesh wound caused him any true discomfort. A childhood filled with needles, mako and experiments that would kill the average SOLDIER gave him a rather high pain threshold. He suspected certain aspects of the good doctor's treatments also dulled his ability to feel physical discomfort. Though nothing came to mind to explain his current situation. Why did he feel so weak?

Mako poisoning perhaps? Even if that were the case then why was he in some kind of emergency room? He was Sephiroth! People feared him and wanted him dead. Who cared that his arm was a little mucked up, it would heal and then he would go after Cloud, destroying whatever the blond held precious to him at the moment.

"Doctor, he's awake!" One of the masked figures said, its voice female and filled with surprise. Sephiroth grunted. If he were not feeling so weak he would have slaughtered every person in this room by now. Did they not realize they were playing dangerous game? '_They must be scientists.' _The silver warrior thought with disdain. '_Those idiots always want to dabble where no mortal should in their attempts to play God.' _

A male wearing a green mask rather than white like the others peered over from the clipboard in his hands and let out a snort of disbelief. Wielding a tiny flashlight, the doctor leaned over the table on which Sephiroth lay prone and examined him himself. Upon noticing that the silver-haired male's green eyes were open, though only half-so since that weakness was translating into exhaustion, the doctor began to bark orders to his staff. Nurses fumbled with IV's and other machines at his command, and soon, the doctor returned to his inspection.

Sephiroth wanted to growl and demand an explanation but his words caught in his throat. His vision blurred. That was not normal. Anesthesia did not work on the mako-enhanced! Yet, the world kept dripping into darkness and he struggled to remain conscious.

"Stop fighting, kid, you're safe now. Just rest okay? We'll fix you up." Who said those words was unclear since the voice itself chased him into the blissful state of unconsciousness.

000X000

_It is not often that I dream but in the haze of my rebirth, I could not resist the images that washed through the shadows, painting the world with color. _

_ Standing again amongst the barren landscape that I recognized, I watched with disinterest as the wind sent spirals of sands into the air, the effect of such causing the dunes to appear as if they were in motion… Such fanciful imagery to cast this place in—no beauty exists to the mortal eye. Then again, I am not mortal. _

_ Perhaps it is because I am partially a creator of the waste that I find poetry to describe it._

_ Or, I am merely becoming a touch too dissociated from it all, my mind seeking an anchor among the illusions that bored thoughts create._

_ Whatever the reason, it is lost when my eyes catch sight of a shape all too familiar. _

_ My puppet. Gaia's precious little tool. He is running from something, it is all too plain upon his face. Ah, little hero, you were never apt at hiding your emotions. All your desires and fears shine through your eyes as brightly as mako glow. So what are you running away from? Death. Yes, that is it. Someone very dear to you has died. But how?_

_ The way you speed along the highway on the monstrous vehicle you actually graced with a name… it tells me that the death struck deep. Did you witness their end? No. The grief is different. You saw their body. It was not murder, was it Cloud? Nor was it illness. I know the way the sorrow reflects in your gaze when you lose someone to the Geostigma._

_ Suicide. Yes. That is it! Someone precious to you could not take living in this hell any longer and took their own life, didn't they, little hero? _

_ Ah, what irony. You fight so hard to save their lives and yet they die all around you. How many of your so called friends took the life you preserved for them and ruined it, or took it away? You are alone now, little hero. There is no escaping that. So where are you going? There is nothing around but sand for miles. Or is that the point? You have had enough trying to save everyone else, now you seem to vainly hope that there is someone out there to save you from yourself. _

_ Even if this is but a dream, I shall savor the misery that lurks within your eyes. So broken you are. Pathetic. Useless. Why Gaia chose you to be her hero I will never quite know. But what is this? Distracted, Cloud? You are searching for someone who is not there. Your eyes wander from the road over your shoulder as if you half expect someone to be there…chasing you. Sadly, there is no one there to help or harm you. _

_ Wait…is that fear in your eyes, Cloud? You are actually losing control of that motorcycle that you prize so much. No…NO! This is not how it is supposed to end! Get up Cloud! GET UP! Don't tell me that a damn crash is enough to make you falter. True, that was quite an explosion…but still, why are you lying there? It is not possible… After all these years, this is how it ends? _

000X000

Pain lanced through Sephiroth's body, ripping him from the dream instantly.

He did not scream. No. But one almost escaped his lips. The agony he felt cut straight into his soul, as if a part of him was dying with Cloud. Only a dream, he assured himself. No matter how real the little hero's death looked, it was all just his imagination. Once he recovered from his injuries and regained is strength, the idiots who nursed him back to health would die and he would seek out the blond for another battle.

Sephiroth sat up, nausea assaulting him the moment he did so. At least the breathing machine was gone.

An unfamiliar voice said something in the background but he was too focused on an alien pain to notice. Movement to his left broke him free of the queasiness-induced distraction, and he snapped and arm out to intercept whoever it was. Only, when he tried, he discovered that said arm felt like lead and attempting lift it only resulted in another bout of nausea. Glancing down, Sephiroth discovered that the limb was bound in bandages from his fingertips to his shoulder, making it impossible to bend it at any point in between.

Which was disturbing.

As one of the strongest men alive, breaking a few measly bandages should be easy. Yet…

Gentle hands settled on his chest and shoulder, urging him to lay back down.

"It's okay, kid. You're in the recovery room. We managed to save your arm, too. You really are quite lucky, you know." That voice…was it the doctor's? "It was touch-and-go for a while there but, hey, how many kids survive an explosion like that and live to tell the tale?" Sephiroth quirked a brow and gave the strange man an incredulous look. What in Gaia's name was he talking about and why did he keep calling him kid?

Said strange man stroked his hair like one might a sick child or pet. Yes. He would definitely have to die. Quickly, Sephiroth scanned the doctor's features and filed his appearance away for later. Dark brown hair, olive-colored eyes, average height and neither overly good looking or unattractive.

"What are blabbering about?" Sephiroth asked coolly, masking his irritation with indifference, an art that he had perfected in his years as a General. "I recall no explosion nor do I understand why you insist on calling me 'kid'. I am not a child and…"

"You don't remember?" How dare the man interrupt!

"Remember what exactly, the explosion that did not happen?" Sephiroth replied with a snort.

"Kid. You… I can't believe it. You have amnesia."

No, he did not have amnesia. The doctor was obviously a clueless nutcase who…

"I guess it's for the best really. If you could recall the events of the past forty-eight hours, it could lead to Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome. For an aspiring SOLDIER cadet, that could lead to failing the exams… You really are lucky, kid. The lone survivor of that attack and you can't remember a thing."

SOLDIER cadet? What drugs was this so-called doctor taking for him to not only mistake the powerful, one-winged angel for a child, but to also have delusions that the SOLDIER program was still intact? Truly, nothing was making any sense.

Suddenly, another person spoke from across the room, just out of Sephiroth's line of vision.

"Doctor Fields, you reported that Cadet Valentine's condition is stable?" That voice…it couldn't be!

The doctor turned away from Sephiroth and said,"Yes sir. Do you wish to speak with him General?" Slow, purposeful strides echoed inside the sterile, white confines of the room. It was the sound of heavy boots against tile. The sound of someone very powerful and confident in his abilities. He recognized that stride as his own. But the figure that appeared at the foot of the bed was none other than Cloud Strife. Or, at least, who vaguely appeared to be.

The man whom the doctor referred to as 'General', was not the tiny warrior he knew. This man stood no less than six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a slim waist. His eyes were Cloud's same color, an almost impossibly intense blue, but the frigid layer of emotionless ice was new. And his hair, while the same bright blonde, lay in an untamed, disorder of spikes that disappeared past his shoulders rather than being short and sticking up in odd angles into the air. Flawless skin that Sephiroth recalled as being tanned from the desert sun was now eggshell white.

To add insult to injury, Cloud wore Sephiroth's uniform! From the black leather duster, to the knee-high boots, to the metal pauldrons and the leather straps that held them in place. By some small favor, it appeared that this 'General' did not carry Masamune on his hip (that would have been enough to snap his temper), rather, he carried an obnoxiously large, Buster-class sword on his back.

Wait…why did he keep thinking of this man as Cloud? Sure, the resemblance was there, but in reality he could not be the same person…could he?

And if, for the briefest of moments, he played along with the whole 'Cloud is the General of ShinRa' thing, then…who was he? Sephiroth glanced away from the two men to look at his uninjured arm. Instead of the sleekly powerful muscles that he was familiar with, there was, well, nothing. It was a normal arm typical of a normal cadet in the early weeks of training. He flexed the limb slightly. Was it possible…he was Cloud? Was his rival now walking in his shoes of influence and power, and he, the once mighty General, was now reduced to nothing more than a faceless, nameless trooper?

"Most surprising that he is awake," the sound of the General's voice broke Sephiroth's concentration. Green eyes flicked to those of blue, and then, he made one more discovery. Cat-like pupils that matched his own…or, last time he checked they did. Deciding that this must be a strange continuation of some kind of mako poisoning induced hallucinations, Sephiroth let out a small chuckle of relief. If this scenario were real, then he was not exactly sure what he would do!

"Do you find something amusing, Cadet?" Cloud's voice was firm and otherwise void of emotion.

Sephiroth stopped his soft laughter,"It is nothing of importance…"—he paused—"…sir."

"Hm. For someone proclaimed dead-on-arrival you are rather…lively." Was the dry response. Apparently the hallucination had Sephiroth's sense of humor, or as many claim, lack thereof.

"Would you rather I bemoan of my injuries? The pain is rather great but I must admit that playing the wounded victim is none too tasteful a routine. I could make an attempt, though my acting, I have been told, is subpar." The silver-haired warrior said—a smile quirking unconsciously onto unwilling lips. Eventually, his façade shifted into one he was slightly more familiar with than actual amusement. A smirk hid his discomfort and annoyance as he continued to wonder when the dream would fade into a mist of green.

The General raised a brow briefly before giving his head a slight shake,"No. But when you recover enough to leave the hospital wing, I will expect you to report to my office for mission debriefing." Then, he turned and began to walk away.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, General sir, but I have no recollection of any mission."

"Pardon?" Cloud looked over his shoulder, a frown knitted onto his features.

Sephiroth tapped the side of his head with his uninjured arm and said,"Amnesia or sorts. Can't recall…in fact…" He, again, paused for a moment,"I could not tell you the names of any of my superior officers, including yourself…apologies, General." Not really, but he was waiting for Cloud's reaction. Did this blond man still have the little hero's strange desire to help everybody?

"I see." Cloud went silent for a time, seeming to appraise Sephiroth with his eyes, almost as if deciding whether or not he was worth his time or energy. Apparently coming to the former conclusion, he added,"Strife. My name and rank is First Class SOLDIER, General Cloud Strife. You will refer to me as General or sir, nothing else. Similar applies to my two Commanders, First Class SOLDIERS Angeal Hewley and Genesis Rhapsodos. Any more information will be supplied at your mission debriefing…Valentine."

As Cloud disappeared from the room, Sephiroth had one last, lingering question.

Why in Gaia's good name was Cloud calling him Valentine?

000X000

**A/N: **

Alright, did you like the first chappie? Well, suggestions and review are always welcome and appreciated. Also, I think I'll put this out there early on:

**Is anyone out there willing to beta this story for me? **

I know I make mistakes and such that need to be corrected and having another pair of eyes on a piece makes it easier on everybody.

.

Okay, with that out of the way, here are the answers to a few basic questions I am expecting to get:

**Q: What is (are) the paring(s) in this story?**

A: Sadly, while the main pairing for the story is SephxCloud, it is a non-romantic one. But, based off what myself and MuffinLordLionsgate have thrown at each other r for ideas, the likely romantic pairings are:

TifaxSephiroth (I know, weird, right?), GenesisxCloud and AerithxZack.

Any other pairings are undecided at this point.

**Q: So will Cloud/Aerith/other random people remember Sephiroth?**

A: Ah, no. Much like in Fourth Time, people will notice that there is something odd about him, but they won't have any physical memories of him.

**Q: How old is Sephiroth at this point?**

A: I'd say about sixteen, give or take a year or so.

**Q: How did Cloud become General?**

A: Being as that is part of the mystery, you will have to wait to find out.

**Q: Is this really a dream?**

A: No…It's real. Sephykins just thinks he's dreaming.

.

Okay my pretties, do enjoy and please, I thrive off feedback. Don't be shy.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

Okay, it has been a while, hasn't it? Well, I updated! Hope you all enjoy and review.

**Rating (Chapter): **PG-13 (Language)

**Word Count: **3,071

**Disclaimer: **To quote another writer, "These are not my characters, I'm just abusing them."

**Not Again!**

**By Catsitta**

**Chapter two: **Life as he knew it

It was nearly a week before Doctor Fields released Sephiroth from the medical ward, and in that week he came to single conclusion.

He was not hallucinating.

To say the least, the feared General now turned Cadet, was far from pleased with his situation. He was small, skinny and long-limbed—adolescence personified—with big, child-like eyes (that were green, but lacking a slitted pupil) and scarcely a hint of muscle tone. A cast immobilized his left (and dominant) arm. And for some reason he could not stop tripping over his damn feet as he walked!

After the umpteenth misstep and awkward sprawl against the wall to regain his balance, Sephiroth was ready to start cussing for all he was worth. Pushing back his shortened, silver bangs, the swordsman once again set out on his journey to Strife's office. At some point, he his mind and body would sync up, right? After all, before this whole 'time travel', 'role swapping' incident, he was the epitome of grace and skill. Something like that came naturally…or at least, he thought it did.

As his feet determinedly tried to tangle up yet again, Sephiroth began to question that assumption. And upon hearing a snide voice bark from behind him, he began to doubt the very instincts that once made him a demon of war.

"Still can't walk straight, can you Valentine?"

Turning his head slightly, the ex-General saw a group of boys presumably his age, each wearing a Cadet uniform and a feral grin. Quickly, he analyzed the situation, weighed the odds and realized, for once, he was at a severe disadvantage. This new body of his was weak, klutzy and injured. For Gaia's sake, he could hardly walk! And the boys that stalked closer looked to be the stereotypical, testosterone heavy cannon fodder that liked hitting things repeatedly for no apparent reason.

Unfortunately, those brutes he was used to looking down upon or even ignoring, had all sights set on him. He was the spindly fawn standing motionless before a pack of hungry wolves…no, a pack of hungry mountain lions. Felines liked to play with their food before devouring it—savoring in the thrill of the chase as well as the kill. These boys, because for all their hulking frames, were just that, boys—children in the grand scheme of things—were looking to play with some weak victim before they left him bruised and unconscious in the hallway. But in the world of war, children died, consumed by the battle. Only men survived, standing tall amongst the fallen.

Bullies were not men. Never would be.

So Sephiroth straightened himself, lifted his chin and turned to face the gang that stood mere feet behind him. Looking weak or frightened would only incite action, and in his current condition, action of any sort was the last thing he needed.

"Leave now," he commanded darkly,"or you will regret it."

The biggest of the boys, a sandy-blond with thick chest and a trace of a beard, allowed his grin to sour into a smirk. "What exactly would you do, Valentine, hit me? Go ahead. Last I checked you couldn't even bruise little, pasty-face girl." His 'friends'—of whom there were four in total—snickered. "Or, wait, maybe you'll sic your daddy on me. Mr. Big-and-Scary that works for the company." The boy then added over one shoulder, "Who wants to bet he made up having a father working for ShinRa? Or if he does, he's just another bastard son that the man doesn't know exists."

Sephiroth visibly bristled. A father who works for the company? That left a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought of the implications. Did it mean his own father, from his previous life and world, abandoned him to Hojo's hands when he was but an infant? Where was his mother then? Jenova. Wait, no, she wasn't his mother. She was just another one of the Professor's lies. But still, who were his parents? And damn it, who the hell was Valentine?

"Ooh, I think I touched a sore spot, now didn't I?" The laughter that followed grated against Sephiroth's nerves. In fact, he was so annoyed, that this boy and his friends were put at the top of his list to die people, right above Doctor Fields and right below Cloud. Yes, he still wanted to maim the blond and spread his entrails from side of the continent to the other—nothing wrong with that. After all, he never had his chance to successfully squash the little pest once and for all; no, rather the little hero had to go and get himself killed in a motorcycle crash of all things!

Disappointments aplenty.

But, killing Cloud was a task for a later date. At this present point in time, survival seemed to be key. Hefting up his cast-heavy arm, the silver-haired warrior did his best to drop into a well-balanced fighting stance. There was no way he was going to go down without a fight or let himself be injured at the heed of some teenage bully.

"Hey look. Valentine is all riled up, now aint he?"

"I told you, leave me be." If only his voice would stop cracking. It was much easier to be intimidating when one's pitch did not skip from one octave to another at odd intervals.

"Now why would we do that? All we want to do is welcome you back from the mission and congratulate you for surviving." The gang of boys began to make a steady approach, their mouthy leader wearing his malicious intent like a mask.

Everything fell silent for the briefest of moments—making the air thick and heavy.

Suddenly, the tension broke with a loud CRACK as Sephiroth's cast connected with the first bully's jaw. Pain ricocheted up his arm, but the silver-haired warrior ignored it, long since accustomed to trudging through debilitating injury. He recovered as gracefully as possible, keeping on his feet for the first time today, and made to hit the boy again with his free hand.

Unfortunately, his one shot was gone and his no longer mako-enhanced reflexes were just too slow. The boys swarmed him, making loud taunts as they rained down a flurry of blows that brought him to his knees.

Surprised by his own failure, Sephiroth hesitated as he was hefted to his feet and dragged into a side hallway. Before he could even wonder what was going on, the bully leader stood before him, sneering despite his swollen, bleeding mouth and bruised jaw. "Make him kneel." The teen growled and Sephiroth found himself thrown onto his hands and knees. Fingers curled violently in his silver locks, pulling sharply up. "Look at me, _bitch_."

Bitch? Who in Gaia's name did this brat think he was dealing with? He was Sephiroth, the great one-winged angel and harbinger of death. It was he who summoned Meteor. He who nearly destroyed the Planet. It was he who almost ascended into godhood! He was nobody's _bitch._

Clutching his cast close against his chest, the silver-haired warrior attempted to stand, only to have a booted foot plant itself between his shoulder blades. The weight was more than his one, non-dominant arm could handle, but Sephiroth held fast. He refused to break, though his muscles screamed in protest and threatened to give out from beneath him without permission.

"Think you're tough, do you?"

"I am the only survivor of my last mission," Sephiroth pointed out with strained sarcasm. "Counts for something."

A scowl overcame the teen's features and he twisted the clump of hair he gripped in his fist. "Shut up. I didn't say you could talk, now did I?"

Sephiroth responded by spitting into the bully's face. He was much too close, after all, if he was able to do so. Seeing look of sheer rage that overcame the teen's features was well worth having his own jaw slammed against the metal floor. Then again, with the world spinning, it was rather hard to orient himself in the hallway and see all the possible plans of attack his enemy might make.

Fully prepared to be yanked up again by his hair and beaten to an inch of this body's death, for whatever reason, Sephiroth was mildly confused when his hair was abruptly released and the weight on his back lifted. Well, that was until he heard another voice from the past. A voice belonging to none other than Zack Fair.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"S-sir! W-what are…I mean…" the bully stammered.

"All of you, names and rank, now!"

It took five minutes, but the Cadets divulged their names, rank and a great deal of other information that no one cared about. Much of it was idolizing garble that Sephiroth grew used to and learned to overlook in his days as General.

After they were all shut up and sent on their way (to be dealt with appropriately by their commanding officer), Zack came to crouch beside him and carefully helped him to his feet. Knowing he could not be in the best of shape, Sephiroth allowed for his hair to shroud his face. It was humiliating to be this powerless…to be this physically weak. He could never remember being overcome by an untrained group of children before.

He was a weapon crafted for war…he could cull armies with sweep of his arm and smirk. There were days where he and Masamune bathed in the blood of the enemy as they danced a dance as old as mankind itself. That of man and his weapon, the very tool that was an extension of his inner and physical self.

But…he was not that person anymore. He was just some kid. Some faceless, nameless trooper. A weak, awkward Cadet. He was…he was like Cloud Strife from the years before he became the world hero. Just another reason to hate the new General. A tally mark on a list a mile long.

"You okay kid?" What was everyone's obsession with calling him kid? At the very youngest, he had to be at least fourteen. The military was strict about the age requirements, the only exception being himself since he had been born into the company to be a SOLDIER. So if he was no longer the exception…

"I'm fine."

A gentle hand lifted his chin and bright, aquamarine eyes peered into his own of green.

"No, you're not, kid." Zack said,"So, you know the drill…Name, rank and what the hell happened."

"Sephiroth Valentine, SOLDIER Cadet…as for what happened, I'm not quite sure. I left the medical wing at o'six hundred hours in order to report to the General for debriefing. The other Cadets intercepted and then proceeded to assault me. Their motivation for attack is, as of yet, unknown."

Zack blinked and scratched his head,"Damn. You really are Valentine's kid, aren't you?"

"What are you trying to imply…sir?" Sephiroth noted the blue First Class uniform the other was wearing and knew that he had to refer to him as a superior officer…for now. From what he could recall, Zack was only sixteen when he received his promotion to First—the youngest in history aside from himself. In many ways, that youth showed. From the disarray of raven-spikes that made him look like a hedgehog, to the boyish wonder that always over took his features, to the confused sense of what's right and what's honorable he no doubt likely still possessed.

"Well. Just that you're like your father. Met him once, heard he had a kid in the military and wondered what that kid was like. Looks like I found out, huh?" Zack grinned.

"Do stop referring to me as 'kid'. I have a name, _sir_." It came out as a growl. How he hated dealing with the idiocy of mortals.

"Oh…sorry." His grin never faded. "Didn't mean anything by it, Seph."

Seph. How long had it been since anyone had called him that? It cowed Sephiroth's anger rather quickly, leaving the ex-General feeling empty, almost lost. He never knew many people who dared to call him by the shortened version of his name. There had only been three. Genesis, Angel and Zack. His three friends…his only friends…friends he no longer had… No, no longer needed, he corrected, but for some reason, the statement felt empty.

"Seph? You okay?" Zack, in his usual, overly touchy-feely self, placed both hands on either of Sephiroth's shoulders. "Oh…right! You don't feel comfortable with your superior officer calling you that. So how about this, you call me Zack and we'll call it even. I hate all those 'sirs' anyway. Makes me feel old."

Blankly, Sephiroth stared at the raven-haired teen. How could he have possibly forgotten how insufferably chummy Zack had been? Nothing discouraged him, not even threats and regular thrashings in combat. The SOLDIER was just a bouncy ball of energy and joy that liked bounding into everyone's life. He was the kind of person determined to make even the most stubborn and anti-social of individuals his friend. And, he was good at it. Very good.

"Here, let me help you back to the medical wing. You don't look so good."

"I am to report to the General." His words sounded hollow even in his own ears.

"Fine. You report and then go back to the hospital. I'll make sure you make it there and back safe."

"I don't need anyone to protect me."

Zack's smile hardened into something thoughtful, analytical, concerned.

"What kind of friend would I be to let you wander off alone in the shape you're in?"

And with that, there was no room for argument as the First latched onto Sephiroth's good arm and began to pull him in the direction of General Cloud Strife's office.

000X000

"Lieutenant." Cloud looked vaguely surprised when Zack burst into the room with Sephiroth in tow. "And Cadet."

"Hey Spike. Found myself a lonely Cadet looking for you."

"I see…leave us Lieutenant."

Zack chuckled, yanked the silver-haired teen behind him and proceeded to dump Sephiroth in one chair and sprawl out in another. "You should know better than that, Spike."

A tiny smile formed on Cloud's lips,"I can still hope that one day I will not regret promoting you." Then, the smile disappeared as he turned his sights on Sephiroth. There was something piercing about those feline, mako-tainted blue eyes. "Valentine. You appear to have obtained a few injuries since our last meeting."

"Some kids in his class jumped him on his way here," Zack cut in before Sephiroth even had a chance to speak. "I caught them before any lasting damage could be done."

"I see…" The blond General made an interested sound, but did not press the issue further. "You know why you are here, Cadet. Tell me what you remember."

"Nothing, sir." And that was the truth. "I recall no explosion, no mission or…anything actually. Who I am, aside from my name, is lost to me as well."

Cloud sighed,"Figures as much. The one person capable of telling us if AVALANCHE was involved in the attacks cannot remember his own date of birth…"

"Afraid not, sir."

"Do you remember which room in barracks you live in at least?"

"No."

"What program you are enrolled in?"

"SOLDIER I believe."

"Where you were born?"

"…Midgar?"

Cloud gave Sephiroth a strange look and shook his head.

"As much as I hate to say it, Valentine, I'm putting you on leave until you remember at least basic personal information. If you cannot remember those facts, then I loathe to think of what you can recall of basic training."

"Wait! I'll fall behind in my classes." Sephiroth exclaimed, knowing he needed some plausible excuse to stay right where he was. After all, his physical body needed training even if his mind was still that of the best General to ever lead ShinRa's army. That, and if he was on leave, then he would have to exit the compound until it was over. Where would he live? With a cast on one arm, no mako and no weapon—he would be killed.

"I am not retracting my decision, Valentine. In fact," Cloud motioned at Zack, "please inform Tseng that Vincent's son is here."

Vincent's son? Valentine…That meant…His father was Vincent Valentine? The very Vincent Valentine that joined the little hero in his quest to save the Planet? How had he not made the connection before…but that…it was impossible!

Too busy having his brain short circuit from the sudden realization he had made, Sephiroth never noticed Zack leave. Nor did he notice when the door opened again, two pairs of feet echoing against the floor rather than one. It was not until an unfamiliar hand fell upon his shoulder that he broke from his hazy denial.

Flicking his eyes up, he found himself staring into the face of a man he hated for his mere association with Cloud. Crimson orbs met his gaze steadily. What in Gaia's name was going on? And what was Sephiroth supposed to do? How was he supposed to react?

"Sephiroth." Vincent murmured in his deep, half-there voice. "Come. It's time to go home."

"No."

Another hand, just as human as the other instead of encased in a gauntlet of gold, came to rest on his other shoulder.

"You will continue your training here at a later date. Now, come. I do not have time to play games."

"It's okay, Seph. When you come back, I'll make sure you're all caught up in no time! Promise." Zack chimed in, but his attempts to break the tension failed.

After all, it was not every day that one learns his father is a Turk.

With great reluctance, Sephiroth stood, realizing that he did not quite match his supposed sire in height. Rather, he fell about three inches short, placing his own stature at that of five foot nine.

"I'll hold you to that, Zack." The silver warrior said, his voice soft with discomfort, his eyes never leaving Vincent's.

The Turk nodded curtly to him and to the SOLDIERs in the room before turning and walking away.

Cloud was already absorbed by some document or another and was shuffling through papers on his desk. Zack waved meekly before going to stand beside the General to point out various lines of interest. Alone, in many senses of the word, Sephiroth did as he was told and followed Vincent.

**A/N: (Review please! Also, still looking for a beta. Always looking for a beta it seems…)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

I don't mean to take so long between updates, but my plot bunnies are being evasive. Anywho, check out my fairly new poll about my various oneshot ideas.

**Rating (Chapter): **T (language)

**Word Count: **3,0382

**Disclaimer: **To quote another writer, "These are not my characters, I'm just abusing them."

**Not Again!**

**By Catsitta**

**Chapter Three: **An unpleasant turn of events

Staring aimlessly out the window proved to be a mind numbing endeavor by the third day of his captivity. Vincent had demonstrated himself to be a stubborn bastard and had locked Sephiroth inside his 62nd floor suite without hearing a word of protest. Not that Sephiroth minded too much the long days spent alone with his only company being his thoughts, but it did get rather tedious after a while.

Had he truly grown used to the constant meddling of Zack or Jenova during his lifetime? Did he actually need those moments of chaotic murmur to break the suffocating silence?

Apparently so…

And Vincent Valentine proved to be useless for human interaction.

The man, if he came home at night, would pour a glass of something strong and throw it back like a shot. Then he would allow those crimson eyes of his to settle on Sephiroth's face and he would shake his head, muttering some nonsense about a woman named "Lucrecia".

As a father, Valentine failed miserably. As a Turk however…he was the best there ever was to offer.

Before settling by the window and watching the people below scramble like ants during a rainstorm, Sephiroth had done some snooping around. Hidden in various places were subtle clues to the legend that masked the man. There were letters of promotion, records broken, medals and marks of honor galore. He as the most decorated Turk Sephiroth had ever known, and those high honors always came at a price. Typically, it was the person's humanity and their sanity at the very least.

Still, knowing these things were of little use. He was no less trapped in a teenager's body within a room he could not escape. From bullet proof glass windows, the coded doorways and more—this place was as secure as any top secret location would be.

"Why?" Sephiroth asked the empty air,"Why me?"

The silence gave no answer.

000X000

A week into his impromptu quarantine, Sephiroth was ready to go nuts.

His body could only be pushed so far, and his exercises were limited by the lack of equipment available as well as his injury. One armed pushups had become a favorite, but he had to be careful. He could only ignore the burn of his muscles for so long before his arm gave out beneath him without warning.

And Valentine, the paranoid freak that he apparently was, locked away everything that could be considered a weapon—that included kitchen knives and scissors—so there was no possible way for Sephiroth to train with a blade in hand.

So he had to entertain himself in other ways, resorting to reading what few books the Turk owned. Unfortunately, aside from the novels he found in his own bedroom, they were all romance. Not even ones with tolerable plotlines or some level of intrigue, either. They were practically erotica, the majority of them, and the trashy sort too.

Sephiroth came to suspect that either Valentine had an odd taste in reading material, or the 'Lucrecia' he kept muttering about was a female lover of some sort. Or, the silver-haired warrior considered, his own mother, whom he had yet to see and doubted that he ever would.

Tossing aside his latest find, Sephiroth began to pace. He had to get out. This level of confinement was suffocating, almost reminiscent of Hojo's labs. No. He would not think of those days. Never again would he allow anyone to violate his body like that. No more needles and mako tanks. No more scalpels and tubes. No more screaming in agony, crying out for a mother that did not exist…

"Sephiroth?" The ex-General whipped his head around at the sound of Valentine's voice. "You seem distressed."

Allowing the muscles in his face to grow lax, completely wiping whatever tension or panic the Turk had seen away, was Sephiroth's only response.

Valentine approached carefully, concern written on high-boned features. It was difficult to imagine this man as the same Turk who fought alongside Cloud and friends. His hair was short, for starters, with only a gentle sweep for bangs. He wore a navy suit without a trace of black or crimson. And his hands were very much human, capable of performing fine motor skills without a trace of clumsiness. But those crimson eyes were unmistakable, like blood-red rubies.

"Sephiroth…" the Turk began again,"I realize that these past two weeks have been difficult for you, but…"

"I am fine."

"Says you…a child."

"I am no child!" Sephiroth found himself snapping. He was sick of people calling him that.

"Your behavior conflicts with that statement."

"Do you have any other reason here than to irritate me?"

Valentine massaged his temples wearily,"I have come to wonder where my son has gone. Is it the inability to remember that causes you to be this…person? This…angry child."

The silver-haired warrior scowled and stalked away to the other side of the room. He just wanted out. He needed to breathe. Splaying his fingers against the glass window, he once again stared out, caught up in his own obsession with escape. He recalled his countless attempts to break the coded locks, or circumvent the security measures, but his electronics skills were rather lacking and he could no longer force his way into anything. All he had was an aching right arm with a hand covered in blisters to show for his earlier efforts.

"Freedom…You're rebelling because I have taken away your freedom." Valentine concluded, at last picking up all the clues. "Sephiroth, I have my reasons."

"And what might those reasons be?" The silver-haired warrior shot back,"Humor me…"

There was a long, tense silence before the older man let out a ragged sigh. He then pulled a pistol from where it was holstered within his jacket and began to fiddle with it absently—his self-imposed distraction consisting of disassembling and reassembling the weapon with remarkable proficiency.

"You are injured, for one." Valentine began, looking up and meeting Sephiroth's piercing gaze,"Two, you have amnesia. These factors make it very unsafe for you to go anywhere without constant supervision."

"I'm not made of glass…I'm not some doll…I can take care of myself."

"I let you join the SOLDIER program because I thought you would be safe, Sephiroth. You need the training, but you need observation more."

"What are you not telling me?"

Valentine was expressionless, undaunted. "Merely things you need not know."

Again, they stared at each other, but Sephiroth felt his temper building. How dare this insolent Turk dodge every question? It was then that something inside the silver warrior seemed to click—or snap, he wasn't quite sure—and a wry smile wormed onto his lips. He chuckled darkly, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against the window.

"What do you find so amusing?"

"Everything about my situation."

"Sephiroth…"

"Vincent."

He heard the hitch in Valentine's breath—as if he could not believe Sephiroth had said what he had said. Curious, the silver-haired teen glanced back at his so-called father, only to see utter misery within those ruby eyes of his.

"You're so much like your mother." The Turk murmured,"Yet so like myself. Have I ruined what I tried to preserve in you with my actions, by indulging you?" Did Valentine every bother with trying to make any sense whatsoever? One moment he was saying one thing, the next something else, and following a conversation with him was like mapping a maze that constantly changed its shape.

Frustrated, Sephiroth grunted and left the window, determined to ignore Valentine's brooding presence as he had since arriving. However, the man caught his uninjured arm and held him in place, squeezing meaningfully…with warning. How bipolar could this damn man get?

"What?"

"I have made a decision."

About what? "Hm?"

"I'm going to pull you from the SOLDIER program."

Sephiroth found himself making the most embarrassing sound he had ever made in his life. It was a mix between a choke and a sputter, and it was all he could do not to trip over himself in disbelief. What had brought about this insane idea?

"No!"

"Yes. It's final."

"You can't—"

"As a Turk, I can."

"Bullshit!" It was rare that Sephiroth dropped to actually curse aloud.

Valentine leveled him with a glared,"Watch your language, Sephiroth."

"You can't do this!"

"I can and should have never let you join. It was a mistake on my part."

"Is this all because I was injured? Death happens on a regular basis, as a Turk you should know that better than anyone. Pulling me from SOLDIER is not going to keep me any safer."

"It will. I shall make sure of it."

"What!"

"Sephiroth…"

"NO!" At his exclamation, everything went dead silent. He was sick of being weak. He was sick of being told what to do. He had been one of the most powerful men on the Planet for Gaia's sake! The infamous One-Winged Angel. Calamity's Son. The Demon of Wutai.

"Yes. And you will cease to speak to me in such a way, Sephiroth. I have obviously been too lenient with you, especially since the accident. No more. It is quite apparent that you are capable of logic and reasoning, yet you behave inappropriately for no other reason than you are not getting your way."

"I'm acting the way I am because you have kept me locked up! I'm going stir crazy." Wait…When did he start sounding so much like a teenager? Where had his air of superiority gone? His dry charisma? Was it all slipping away from him?

"I have to." Valentine said softly.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not going to break?"

"But you already have."

Sephiroth shook his head and spat back venemously,"What do you propose I do now that you have decided to take away the 'indulgence' of allowing me to join the SOLDIER program? Am I to become an ordinary trooper—cannon fodder that ShinRa could care less about sacrificing?"

"Of course not. I'm going to continue the training you were receiving before you joined the military."

"Oh?"

"Perhaps the feel of a gun in your hands will jog your memory."

"Gun?" Sephiroth hated guns. He had no use for the damn things. Unlike a sword, you had to reload a gun. If you ran out of ammo, you were screwed. If an enemy got too close, you were screwed. At least a sword never ran out of steel and if someone made the mistake of invading your personal space you could bash their head in. Besides, there was a certain, artful elegance to swordplay that was distinctly lacking when it came to guns.

"Someone of your build is not suitable for hefting a sword. Guns would be more advantageous for you."

"Someone of my build?" It reminded him of how lean and fragile he was now. No mako. No muscle. He was pathetically ordinary, especially for the claimed son of a Turk. Had it been Valentine's goal to dissuade him from every joining the military by not helping him a build an appropriate physique? And what was this nonsense about allowing him to join SOLDIER being an indulgence?

What kind of person had this Sephiroth been before he had woken up in his body?

Then he remembered. He was a person much like the little hero, Cloud. Weak. Stumbling. Soft spoken and shy. Nothing remarkable about him and no leadership skills to speak of. Now, with the mind of a General used to respect, awe and fear—he was out of place. No longer was he a timid boy that people pitied, rather, he was an arrogant ass that no longer had the might to match his mouth. No wonder Valentine seemed uncertain of how to deal with him and suddenly became so resolute.

He had lost the son he had loved and worried over. The son that reminded him of Lucrecia. The son who had likely loved the man as a father and did not treat the man like a stranger. He knew it. He just did not know how to handle it.

"I'm not weak." Sephiroth whispered, feeling strange. Almost guilty.

"I never said you were."

"SOLDIER is my life,"—_my purpose—_"do not take it away from me."

"You have yet to experience life, Sephiroth."

"Then let me."

"I shall…when you are ready."

At that, Sephiroth left the room, a thousand emotions swelling in his chest. He felt so vulnerable. So human. He had to make it stop. He had to get this life back on track. He had to become a SOLDIER. No one, especially not Valentine, would stop him.

000X000

One week and three days after his blow up with Valentine, Sephiroth at last did what many deemed was impossible—including himself.

He hacked a Turk's security system.

After the man fell asleep, or passed out since he had drank himself into such a stupor, Sephiroth snatched up his laptop. With quickness and ease that only came with experience working with encrypted systems for a majority of his life, the silver-haired warrior cracked the code and found a backdoor in the programming. A sweep of his fingers revealed to him company secrets he had long since stopped caring about, as well as a clear path in how to disable the security measures put in place over the apartment.

Of course, quick meant a few hours rather than day or weeks, so Sephiroth knew he was pushing it close when he deconstructed the last of the infuriating barriers that separated him from freedom.

Abandoning the laptop and packing what he deemed essential, Sephiroth made his escape with the rising of the sun. With dawn came the waking of the city, so he had to be careful to avoid being detected. Which proved rather hard since any semblance of stealth was ruined by his klutzy nature, but he did manage to not fall over completely.

In fact, he was ready to grin with satisfaction as he made his way down the winding stairwell. It was a long journey, but there were no cameras there and few people ever used them. But his joy fell short when he heard the clattered of footsteps from above. Someone was behind him and Sephiroth believed he knew who it was.

Cursing mentally, the silver warrior threw open the first door he saw and shut it behind him, sinking low to the ground in hopes of avoiding being seen.

And it worked…possibly, since the footsteps grew louder, then softer as the other person continued to descend.

He sighed with relief, only to freeze with surprise when one the hall doors slammed open, revealing a rather disgruntled and furious Genesis. Sephiroth blinked, uncertain what to do. He was technically a Cadet on leave…on the SOLDIER floor. Even if his father was a Turk, he had no permission to be on this floor.

"You can't kick me out!" Snarled Genesis, whom had not noticed the teenaged form huddled by the stairwell entrance.

"I can and just have." Sephiroth's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. Was that…Cloud Strife's voice? Judging by the carelessly skewed way the auburn SOLDIER was wearing his uniform, and the bruises that marked the exposed skin of his neck, the two men were…lovers. He found himself cringing at the thought. Hojo would have skinned him alive at the thought of his prized experiment having any homosexual tendencies. The man was quite loud about the fact, though he also warned again sex with females, explaining that he more than likely poison an unenhanced partner due to the level of mako in his system.

He had to be careful.

Strife, apparently, was not the careful type if he was playing with the fire that was Genesis. The man had his pride and one hell of a temper, slighting him in anyway was a good way to get burned…literally. Sephiroth remembered one occasion where the man had caught his silver hair aflame in a fit of rage… Good memories.

"Bastard!"

"I told you I was only looking for a fuck." The door abruptly shut.

Genesis was obviously hurt, because never put a part of himself into any situation, he put all one-hundred percent, no matter what…no matter the consequences. But he would likely not admit his pain, especially not in front of the cause. Instead, he did what he always did, gritted his teeth, swept his hair back with a dignified tilt of his chin, and walked away, quoting LOVELESS like a forlorn poet shunned by the object of his inspiration.

Unfortunately, that meant he was walking directly towards Sephiroth.

Why was the man not using the elevator like an intelligent person?

Rising to his feet, he made to open the door…

"What are you doing here?" Damn it…caught.

"Hiding." No point in trying to lie. Genesis was infamous in his abilities to pick them apart as well as spin them in such a way that no one could ever untangle the web.

"From who? In fact, who are you?" The auburn SOLDIER was obviously in no mood to play nice if the expression on his face was anything to judge by.

"I am SOLDIER Cadet Sephiroth Valentine, sir." Sir tasted odd on his lips still. Genesis was always his subordinate, now, their roles were reversed. "As for whom I'm hiding from…a Turk."

"A Turk? What in Minerva's name did you do to piss off a Turk?"

"I was born."

"Cadet, don't test my patience."

Well, it had not been a lie. "Fine, I hacked my father's security system and left the room he had me locked in for almost three weeks."

Genesis frowned, apparently putting the pieces together,"You're Vincent's son, aren't you?" Was everyone on a first name basis with his so called father? "The one who survived the attack by AVALANCHE."

"Indeed I am."

"And you hacked into a Turk security system."

"I borrowed his laptop."

"Then you decided to run off and hide here…" He glanced at the bag by Sephiroth's feet. "long enough for your pursuer to lose track of you, in order for you to escape. Cadet, are you attempting to go AWOL?"

"No. I'm on leave. I merely was after some fresh air."

Genesis coughed, blinked…then began to laugh his head off.

"What…?"

"By the Goddess, I never…You…you are an idiot." Sephiroth frowned and opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a sharp shift in the SOLDIER's behavior. Suddenly dead serious, the man stepped closer with a fierce, long-legged stride and stared down at him with shadows in his eyes. "How much did you see of what just happened?"

"…enough." Right, Genesis had mood swings that were ten times worse than Valentine could ever dream of having.

"Do you know how easy it would be for me to kill you?"

"Quite easy given your strength…but I would not go down without a fight."

"If I hear one word about myself and the General, it's your head I shall take, understand, Cadet?" Sephiroth nodded slowly. "I'll make you regret leaving that little safe haven your father made."

"Yes sir."

"Good…now, what were we talking about before things got unpleasant…? Ah yes, you being an idiot."

"I'm not…"

"Yes you are. If the rumors hold true, you are the little brat who Fair rescued from his peers the other day. That, and you are a target for having a Turk as a father and the ShinRa logo printed on your chest."—he poked the triangle of red diamonds on his uniform—"Outside of this building, that is a death sentence when alone. Especially since AVALANCHE has recently decided to play dirty…which you would know all about, wouldn't you?"

Sephiroth rolled his eyes and tapped the side of his head,"No, I wouldn't. Amnesia."

"Then you are more the fool than I first thought!" Genesis suddenly lurched forwards, grabbing Sephiroth's good arm and pulling him close, leaning down so that he could speak in his ear. "Go home little Turkling, before you get killed."

Genesis pulled him aside and neatly tossed him onto the floor as if to prove a point. Then, he opened the stairwell door and disappeared from sight, leaving Sephiroth alone with his thoughts.

**000tbc00**

**A/N: (Will Vincent make good on his threat of pulling Sephiroth from SOLDIER? Will Sephiroth get out of the building? Why is Cloud the enhanced General and Sephiroth just a normal kid? Where is Lucrecia? What about Hojo? So many questions… But you can only find the answers by continuing to read!**

**Heh. Review please! I adore idea cookies…And I still need a beta.)**


	4. Chapter 4

Paste your document here...

**A/N:**

Yay! I would like to thank blackcat686 for beta'ing this chapter for me.

Anywho~Surprises, twist and turns await you my dear readers! Read and review.

And, I must be quick. I have a driving lesson in a few minutes and I'm sneaking in this update beforehand.

**Rating (Chapter): **T (language and violence)

**Word Count: **3,622

**Disclaimer: **To quote another writer, "These are not my characters, I'm just abusing them."

**Not Again!**

**By Catsitta**

**(Chapter Beta: blackcat686)**

**Chapter Four:** Meetings with the unexpected

Gathering himself, which took a great deal longer than he would have liked, Sephiroth at last picked up his heavy limbs from the floor and opened the door to the stairwell. Running into the temperamental SOLDIER had been more exhausting than expected, and with the adrenaline rush in his blood reaching a low point, he had very little energy to continue his hasty mission of escape.

But, never one to give up easily, the silver-haired warrior continued his trek, knowing that, at any turn, Valentine could catch him.

The Turk would be pissed.

Oh well. Served him right…right?

Refusing to let guilt tangle him up in its web, Sephiroth shook away distracting thoughts and made sure to be as stealthy as his unenhanced body would allow. Which, was not very, since, at the bottommost stair, he stepped wrong and ended up crumpling to the ground with a crash. Swearing with every word he knew, he regained his balance and did his best to forget that it ever happened.

About five minutes later, he found himself in the train tunnels. It had been a painful endeavor to squeeze through a vent and clamber down a metal ladder, but he had succeeded in the end. Now, all there was left to do was to follow these tunnels elsewhere on the Plate…

**BZZZZP! **Sephiroth leapt backwards upon hearing the sound, but a flurry of sparks grazed him causing the muscles on the right side of his body to seize up and convulse for a split second. **BZZZZP! **But one second was a second too many to hesitate, and another blast caught the silver-haired warrior in the chest, stealing his breath away. His world spun and darkness started to creep into his vision. How could he have forgotten about ShinRa's damned security robots? The little pests in the train tunnels were fairly weak compared to the ones used for training in Junon and had never before registered as a threat.

Well, this time they were a problem and he was in no situation to disable them.

**BZZZZP!**

Sephiroth hit the ground to avoid the laser, ignoring the tremendous pain his body was in.

**Wrrrr…**The machine was recharging, building up its power to attack again. The silver-haired teen forced himself to his feet and charged the robot, taking advantage of its delay. Lights flickered on the machine, and it began to glow ominously in preparation for an attack. "I refuse to lose to a mere security reject." Sephiroth growled as he brought a booted foot up and kicked the tiny robot across the tunnel.

It soared, made a startled noise, and slammed into the wall…where it remained for all of two seconds before righting itself.

**BZZZZP!**

The laser hit his hip, causing his left leg to buckle. Kneeling, Sephiroth glared at the offensive robot with as much ice as he could muster. What he would not do for a real weapon right now.

**BZZZZP!**

His entire body became a twitching, shivering mess. There was nothing he could do. And it felt horrible! Sephiroth, the most powerful man to ever live, had fallen further than he had ever thought possible. A little robot that had once only proven to be a minor annoyance was crippling him now. How was it possible he was so weak?

Sephiroth sucked in a few shallow breaths, desperate to remain conscious.

The machine crawled closer, a whirring noise signifying it's readying an attack. It hovered above him, mockingly, its laser aimed at his face, ready to initiate the final blow.

"_Hya_!" The machine went flying (again), clattering noisily as it hit the train tracks.

"What…?" Dazed, Sephiroth pushed himself up and glanced to the side. There, standing in an almost flawless fighting stance, was another face from the past he never wanted to see again. Tifa Lockheart. The lovesick puppy that always trailed after Strife when the little hero was out saving the world. Pity such a strong woman had loved such a weak, self-destructive boy.

But this Tifa was not that woman, he reminded himself. Not the same girl who declared her utter hatred of him and swore vengeance against him for killing her father and burning down her home. Who this Tifa was, especially to this version of himself, was a mystery.

"Hey Snowflake! You going to get up and fight, or am I going to have to save your butt?"

Did she just call him Snowflake?

Furious, Sephiroth found the strength to stand up and glare daggers at the teenaged girl. Tifa merely smirked and flipped her long, brunette hair—those sable eyes of hers full of…familiarity. Wait…did she know him?

"Good to know you aren't a total wimp, Snowflake." The girl stated with a laugh before turning her attention onto the matter at hand. "Stupid robots." She bounded towards the machine, and in an impressive display of dexterity, preformed a front flip and landed on top of it, crushing the pesky thing. "Yeah!" She jumped away and danced happily, but too soon.

The security robots were rarely ever alone, they always called for backup.

**BZZZZP! BZZZZP! BZZZZP!**

"Oh, shit!" Tifa barely managed to avoid the incoming attacks.

Sephiroth, surprised by the turn in events, had been unmoving up until this point. Motivated into action by the new assault, the silver-haired warrior stumbled to the side, before righting himself and launching into the fray. He hurt like hell, but he'd be damned before he let a mere girl rescue HIM from the enemy.

The duffle bag over his shoulder was soon in his right hand—only briefly did he fumble, his casted arm still a wrench thrown the clockwork. Thankful for the strength building exercises he had been doing for the past couple of weeks, Sephiroth turned his bag into a fifteen pound flail. Good thing he had thought ahead and brought along some heavier items (most of which were to sell to obtain a weapon below the Plate). It took more effort than he would have liked to swing, but the results were oh-so-satisfying.

He caught two of the robots in the upswing and sent them sailing. The third turned towards him, preparing to fire, only to find itself being picked up and thrown on the concrete. Tifa was once again wearing a smirk. Strange, from what he could remember when he delved into the little hero's memories, the martial artist was not one for being smug or showy. Where was the calm, focused fighter? Where was the compassionate, broken soul?

_'She was a child at one point._'

Shaking his thoughts clear, Sephiroth placed his attention back into the battle. Now was no time to ponder the past.

The three robots were still standing, though the one Tifa smashed almost appeared to be having a seizure of some sort if the way it sparked and twitched was anything to judge by.

Making sure his grip was secure, Sephiroth ran towards the two machines that were steadily crawling closer. **BZZZZP! BZZZZP! **Avoiding their lasers, if just by a hair, he took another swing, knocking one into the wall and shattering it. The other, he promptly kicked, and it went bouncing feebly over the tracks.

Oddly proud of the fact he had not tripped over his own feet, he turned to see what Tifa was doing, and noticed that the machine was barely moving anymore. With a cry, she smashed her heel down on the robot, silencing it.

Speaking of silence…a long one drew between them.

The girl looked at him with a peculiar glint in her eyes and there was wariness in her stance. Her hands, wrapped in bandages rather than gloves, rested at her hips. She, like Valentine, was a familiar face, yet not. Tifa possessed the same curves, but she had them hidden beneath a loose fitting, 'I 3 Midgar' t-shirt and oversized yoga pants that were long enough to cover her sneakers. Her hair only came to the middle of her back rather than her knees. And instead of declaring how much she hated him with fearful fury in her eyes, she was silent. Curious.

"I thank you for assisting me, miss." Sephiroth was surprised that it was himself who broke the air between them.

Tifa frowned,"Hey, wait! What's wrong with you, Seph?"

"Pardon. Do I know you?"

"Sephiroth Valentine, you had better be joking."

"How do you know my name?" Did everyone?

Now Tifa was angry, she stormed straight up to him and grabbed his cast encased arm, aggravating his new injuries and reminding him of old. Her eyes were drilling into his as she whispered furiously, "Say. You. Are. Joking." He opened his mouth, only to find it full of muck as his once enemy turned ally turned back into an enemy and forced him onto the ground. "I come all the way from Nibelheim to make sure your sorry ass is okay and now you're acting like we've never met!"

This turn of events was pissing Sephiroth off.

"What compelled you to come from that backwater village in order to 'make sure my sorry ass is okay'?" He stood, his whole body thrumming with pain. "And how in Gaia's name did you make it this far without identification? You're on military grounds…" Crack! He paused, eyes widening. "You slapped me."

"Of course I slapped you! I'm your girlfriend, idiot."

Girlfriend? How on the Planet had they even met before!

"Sephiroth…."

"How did you come to Midgar?" He needed more time to figure this situation out.

Tifa pouted, rolling her eyes,"I disguised myself as a boy, stole a trooper uniform, and stowed away on a ship heading for Junon. From there it was only a matter of catching a few rides, finding some new clothes and asking around on how to get above the Plate without papers."

"Honestly?"

The girl smacked him again, hard. "Of course not! I convinced my father to buy tickets so that I could look at potential colleges here in the city. He did not get to be mayor on homeschooling alone and he knows how important education is to being successful. I just did not tell him that I was worried that you were one of the…" Her anger seemed to fade as her words trailed off.

"What?"

"The dead." Tifa shuffled her feet. "Everyone knows about the attack by AVALANCHE, it made world news, Sephiroth. When they began to list the casualties over the radio…"

Sephiroth sighed. "I suffered amnesia after the attack. Names. Places. People. I can recall very little." He lifted his cast. "This is my only remaining physical injury." Then, he gave his apparent girlfriend a quick once over, realized quickly that she might be the one person on this Planet who might actually give him some answers. "Perhaps you could help me remember."

"Isn't your dad helping?" Tifa asked suddenly.

"He has proven…useless in the matter."

"Ah. Not surprised, actually." She smiled, as if the whole fight between them had not occurred. "Anyway, how about we get out of here and find a safer place to talk."

The silver-haired teen remembered why he was suspicious in the first place,"How, again, did you get in these tunnels?"

Tifa arched an eyebrow, "How did YOU get in these tunnels? And why are you here, Mr. Military identification papers."

"Touché."

"By the way, since you seem to have forgotten, my name's Tifa. Tifa Lockheart." And then she began a whole monologue about her childhood, her parents, her interests and her schooling with Zangan in martial arts. Nothing relevant to himself popped up until they reached their exit, which was ironic, since it was a station point where people typically got on the train. It was early, so disappearing into the crowd was easy enough, but the presence of said crowd made it difficult to hear what Tifa was saying.

Once they reached a more open street, he asked how they met.

"Oh, that's easy. Your mother and mine arranged a play date."

"My mother?"

"Yeah. Her name was Lucrecia and she had the most beautiful hair…She was…odd, but nice. Your father was insanely possessive of her though and he never seemed happy about her spending long amounts of time away from home, especially with you. Everyone thought that maybe he was…you know, abusive with the way he acted in public. But your mother always dismissed town gossip and said that he was protective for a reason, that he had stopped a very bad thing from happening and that it had been her foolishness that had gotten her in trouble with a very cruel man. She said he never quite trusted people the same afterwards, and that it took many years before she convinced him to return to Midgar to work."

"What happened to her?"

"What do you mean?"

"My mother, do you know where she is?"

Tifa gave him a strange, confused look. "No. She went to Midgar with you when you joined the military. I assumed that she was living with her husband."

Sephiroth shook his head.

"I'm sorry…"

"There is nothing for you to apologize for…Tell me, do you know why my parents lived in Nibelheim despite my father working for ShinRa in Midgar?"

"He was stationed there…in fact, it was in Nibelhiem where they met. Lucrecia was a scientist and he was her bodyguard, and she was working on some project apparently."

"A project?"

"She never talked about it much. But…now this is just village gossip, a woman named Gale Strife went missing during the time of that 'Project' and was never seen from again. There was some fiasco at the mansion before we were even born…and then, everyone working on the project left, except for your parents. They got married. Bought a house. And a few years later, you were born. The way your mother described it was much more poetic…made it sound like a love story."

"I see…" This was a lot of information to absorb in a short period of time.

He had a girlfriend. He was born in Nibelhiem. His parents were Vincent Valentine and the Lucrecia woman. A woman with the surname 'Strife' went missing around the time his parents met. And if he were to put everything on a timeline, the very one he was familiar with, that would put Strife at twenty-two or so and himself at fourteen…But that somehow did not feel right…

"Tifa…how old am I?"

"You mean your stuffy-ass father did not even tell you your age?"

Sephiroth allowed himself to smirk at that as he shook his head.

"Sixteen. You'll turn seventeen in February."

That meant the timeline was different here…which, given the odd events already to have occurred, was no surprise. After all, Tifa likely was not supposed to be in Midgar right now. The attack by AVALANCHE had never occurred in his previous life. And he, the General, had most certainly never been in a romantic relationship with Genesis.

"Hey, Sephiroth…Isn't that your dad?"

The silver-haired warrior bristled with tension.

There, standing at the end of the alleyway the pair had just entered, was none other than Vincent Valentine and he looked pissed.

"Um…why does he look so mad?"

"I may have snuck out of his apartment, which I had been locked in for over two weeks in order to recover from my injuries."

"Guess you were not supposed to be in the tunnels either…"

"Not in the least."

"Damn…"

"That's one way of putting it."

As they spoke, Valentine drew closer, his stride long and forceful. His eyes seemed to glow in the shadows and there was an almost menacing twist to his expression. Sephiroth found himself taking a step back and Tifa followed his lead, except she appeared to be trying to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible.

Then, he was there, standing, looming. A tall, threatening pillar of raw lethality.

"Uh…hi Mr. Valentine. Been a while."

Sephiroth wanted to throttle the girl, but she was too useful at the moment to dispense of. So, he settled for shooting her a warning glance before focusing back on the angry Turk before them.

"You dare disobey a direct order, Sephiroth." Valentine growled lowly.

"Indeed I dare."

A hand like a vice closed around Sephiroth's right arm,"Home. Now. We shall talk when we arrive."

"Mr. Valentine…" Tifa began.

"And you," Vincent actually grabbed her arm too, "were trespassing on military grounds."

"How?" And then she seemed to remember he was a Turk. Turks knew everything.

"You will come too."

"Hey! My dad will wonder where I am."

"Then you should have considered that, Miss Lockheart."

"W-what do you mean?" Tifa looked panicked now and was struggling in Valentine's grip. "Lemme go you big bully!"

The gunman said nothing and began to pull the two teenagers behind him, the crowd parting around the trio as they murmured amongst themselves.

000X000

It was unsettling.

That was the only way to describe his current situation.

Sitting on his bed, locked in his room, Sephiroth could only wait. He could hear muffled voices through the walls, the pitches different but the words indecipherable. All he knew was that there were four separate voices, one of which belonged to Tifa and another to Valentine.

'_Wait…When did I begin thinking of her as 'Tifa'?'_

Then he realized he had been from the start. Only a few other people in his life had he ever thought of in such a…familiar way. Genesis. Angeal. Zack.

Sephiroth bowed his shoulders and tried to shake away irrelevant thoughts. Thinking of Tifa as Tifa rather than Lockheart was not important at this moment in time. What was important was the fact that she was the key to figuring out who the hell he was in this world and right now she was in a room with Turks. Plural. As in, more than one. It was not a comforting prospect.

"WHAT THE FUCK! LET ME GO YOU MOTHER FUCKING BASTARDS!"

The silver-haired warrior sat up straight when he heard Tifa's piercing scream. It was not within his nature to pity anyone, not even this girl, but a fate at the hands of the Turks was not one he wished upon anyone. Well…no one expect maybe Hojo…

Something slammed into his door. Something that sounded suspiciously like a body.

Sephiroth stood up went straight for his door. There were muffled shouts and the sounds of fighting on the other side. Uncertain, he tested the doorknob, which, since it locked from the inside, turned easily enough. Without further hesitation, he swung open the door, knowing that he was disobeying his father's orders to go in and stay in until called for.

What he saw surprised him.

Reno, a crimson-haired loudmouth that irritated Sephiroth on the best of days, lay unconscious on the floor. His every silent partner, a big bald man with obscenely pierced ears, named Rude, was using a materia in an attempt to wake him up. Tseng and Valentine, two of the greatest Turks to ever live, were both sporting a bruise on their faces and were failing to restrain a certain captive of theirs.

It was…amusing.

And likely the effect of a Limit Break.

Tifa, for all her talents, was still inexperienced. Taking on so many opponents likely put her under impossible stress and forced her into a state of mind and body that literally took over until she was too fatigued to continue. And she looked to be at that point of exhaustion.

The martial artist was panting, her fists held up as she stood with her back against a wall. Her hair was an utter wreck, and her oversized clothing was sticking to her sweaty body. A significant tremble rippled through her small body, reminding Sephiroth how slight the girl actually was and how hard she would fight to survive. Tifa would keep kicking until she collapsed.

An admirable trait.

But one that always cost dearly.

"Let her be." Sephiroth said.

"What did I say about leaving your room?"

"It does not matter. As a member of the ShinRa military it is my duty to protect civilians from danger." It was a duty he upheld in his days as General. Even if he had never liked to walk amongst the mortals, he had still protected them and reveled in the feel of their admiration. "You two are threatening not only a civilian, but a child."

Tifa's sable eyes flashed with surprise. Apparently she had never heard him speak with such authority in his voice, nor seen him act as if the situation was his to command. Sephiroth knew that showing weakness or fear before these two men would be dangerous to himself as well as the girl he was making an attempt to protect. So he steeled himself. Made himself an impenetrable wall.

"Leave." Valentine commanded.

"No." Sephiroth replied.

The ruby-eyed Turk turned and with an open palm, backhanded the teen for his insolent response…and the shock in his eyes was reflected by everyone else in the room.

For the first time ever, Vincent Valentine had struck his son.

"I—I…"

Tifa pushed past him, managing to avoid Tseng on her way. And to Sephiroth's surprise, she threw her arms around his neck and began to cry, "I wanna go home, Seph. I want my dad…Don't let them….don't let them…"

Confused, he looked between her and the mystified gunman before him whom stared at his hands as if he could not understand how they could have possibly done what they had just done.

"Why were you fighting, Tifa."

"They…they wanna make me one of them…a Turk."

And for some reason, the world felt as if it had gone still.

**A/N: ( Review please! I love comments/suggestions/theories. Idea cookies are my favorite. )**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**

I would like to thank blackcat686 for beta'ing this chapter for me.

Sorry for the long delay. But I can say that my long hiatus is officially at a close! Winter break is in full swing and until January I can write and update at leisure.

**Rating (Chapter): **T+ (language and violence)

**Word Count: **3,622

**Disclaimer: **To quote another writer, "These are not my characters, I'm just abusing them."

**Not Again!**

**By Catsitta**

**(Chapter Beta: blackcat686)**

**Chapter Five: **Son of a gun

_"Why were you fighting, Tifa."_

_"They…they wanna make me one of them…a Turk."_

The girl in Sephiroth's arms shuddered, her tears warm against his skin as they made rivers down the column of his throat and puddled at the hollow of his collarbone. It was bizarre to see Tifa show this weakness. How could such a soft heart learn to harbor the dark weight of hatred and death without breaking into a million pieces? If she was willing to weep with minimal provocation, a few bumps and bruises, then how did she ever become a _hero_?

Aware that he should be feeling disgust at the martial artist's display and prying her off of his person, Sephiroth scolded himself inwardly. He was becoming weak. It was pathetic! But…a small part of his heart dared to flutter and ache. When was the last time someone had treated him like a human being? When had he last been the last thing standing in somebody else's world? When had been the last time he had been needed and relied upon to be a pillar of courage and strength?

Memories of old friends flickered into his mind's eye. Memories of war and hardship, of arguments and grief. Memories of rivalry as well as laughter, the seeds friendship sewn in a centimeter of sand, yet weathering the pounding of the seas as storms threatened to wash everything away in a whirl of bitterness.

"Go to my room, Tifa, and lock the door." Sephiroth commanded, his tone one of unrelenting authority. "Stay there until I fetch you, no matter what you hear."

Tifa sniffed and pulled away from him, her sable eyes catching his own briefly. Sephiroth could see the vulnerable child seeking the strength that would make her an indomitable woman one day. While she physically withdrew, he somehow knew that emotionally her grip had become tighter. She was clinging to him. She needed him. _'Promise me,' _those eyes cried,_ 'Promise me that you'll save me. Be my hero.' _

He recalled how she clung to Cloud as if he were her lifeline. The little hero had shunned her affections, yet like a lovesick fool she continued to trail after him, her heart broken but hopeful. _'I am not Strife. He was a weak-minded fool. A puppet playing hero! I am…I am…'_ As Tifa turned and ran past him, the door shutting behind her, Sephiroth found himself feeling strangely hollow. _'Who am I?'_

His inward reflection must have shown on his face, for when he looked up, he found both Valentine and Tseng staring at him. There was confusion intermixed with the guilt and anger in his so-called father's gaze. And Tseng was watching shrewdly, those black eyes of his attempting to burn holes through Sephiroth's forehead.

"You will leave at once and desist in your attempts to recruit Miss Lockheart as a Turk." He made sure that his words left nothing to question and that his posture was tall with confidence. His young body may be awkward and skinny, but he was used to people underestimating his strength. From his early days as a SOLDIER into his first years of being General, all anyone had seen was a scrawny child with alien features. Even bulked up and muscular he had been slim, and his long hair had been fodder for rumors galore. Being pretty had made him a target of ridicule.

But he had quickly proved everyone that had ever doubted him was wrong. He had been the strongest man alive. The quickest, the smartest and the most powerful. No one had stood his equal. He made sure everyone knew how insignificant they were compared to him and reveled in the feel of authority. This weakness was unacceptable. No more would he allow himself to be controlled. He would take life by the throat once again and prove to the world that even un-enhanced, he is dangerous and should never be seen as anything less.

_'Before I was a God, I was a General.' _he found himself thinking, the egotistical madness of Jenova slowly slipping away from the forefront of his mind. His years of greatness were returning to him. Urging him to become the best there ever was yet again. _'Before I was General, I was a hero. Before I was a hero, I was nothing. Today, I am nothing. By tomorrow, I will be someone._'

The future could be changed, but there was no denying the past.

It was his past that shaped him. And it was a past that his alternate self had not experienced. No longer were they dealing with an inexperienced child or a madman trapped in a child's body. No…they were facing the General that had changed a world by the force of his will alone. They simply did not know quite yet.

"Sephiroth…" Valentine began, but the silver-haired, ex-General cut him off with a glare.

"I repeat: You will desist—"

"Cadet Valentine, you have no authority in this matter." Tseng's impenetrable gaze was shadowed further by the darkening bruise encircling his left cheekbone. Valentine bore a similar mark, but his bright eyes seemed to glow, piercing straight through the darkness like twin torches. "You will stand down."

"Never," Sephiroth growled lowly, his pitch dropping briefly into the deep baritone that he would possess as an adult. He was determined not to back down without a fight. It was not for Tifa and her freedom that he was fighting—no, not if he were honest—it was for his pride. Tifa's plea was but the spark that started the fire of argument, and by the gods he was not going to lose!

Both Turks seemed to balk at the authority in his voice and the fire in his eyes. He heard a soft groan from behind him, signaling Reno's regaining of consciousness. In a room with four Turks, he would lose a physical fight should one arise. It irked him, but it was the truth. However, if he could keep it a battle of wits and wills, then just maybe he could succeed. After all, he may no longer be a General but he still possessed the same strategic mind that made him a tactician to fear.

Valentine's right hand twitched, it was Sephiroth's only warning and the silver-haired teen knew it was time to hit the floor. In the same second that the Turk drew his weapon, in a flash of movement, Sephiroth dropped to the ground, narrowly avoiding the shot that followed. There was something strange in Valentine's eyes. It wasn't bestial rage, no; rather it was calculated cunning layered over the typical parental concern.

Upon hearing a challenge, the Turk had answered. Likely the man wouldn't kill him, but if he was to prove a point, Valentine would stop just short of that. Strange how a man whom had never lain a hand upon his son before this day had slipped into the cold persona of his career. Heartless and ruthless, all in a split second.

Sephiroth stood quickly, ignoring the encumbrance that was the cast on his left arm. How he hated the thing…but now was not the time to consider the petty injury. Now was the time to prove a point. And it thrilled him!

Grinning, the silver-haired ex-General charged his supposed sire, finding grace in his clumsy form through the sheer influence of his mind. Just as he reached Valentine, his right arm outstretched as if to wrest his weapon away, a hand closed around his wrist. Sephiroth tried to pulling away, but Valentine was too fast and twisted the smaller male's arm around until his wrist rested at the curve of his back. Then he brushed the barrel of his pistol against Sephiroth's temple, cool steel kissing hot flesh.

"Don't push your luck," he murmured. "Challenging a Turk was a bad idea in the first place. Try not to force my hand, otherwise I will have no choice but to—"

His words were cut off as Sephiroth smashed the back of his head against Valentine's nose. Suddenly, the sound of a shot filled the air yet again, bringing with it deathly silence. The world held its breath for a brief moment…

Blood oozed from the gash along the silver warrior's jaw, the heat of the bullet like a brand in his memory. Both men stood very still, and breathed in short, shallow breaths. "There are games you aren't ready to play," Valentine muttered, lowering his gun and shoving Sephiroth away. "Don't you understand, foolish boy, that this is exactly why you need protection? You're in too deep."

Touching his wound, the silver-haired teen found his thoughts reeling. After convincing himself that he was better than everyone else, that he could play the same game he could when he was practically a God…he had failed. Not only had he failed, but he had humiliated himself and lost what little trust his so-called father had in him. What had he done? What was he thinking?

_'Before I was a God, I was General. Before I was General, I was a hero…before I became a hero, I was nothing._' Sephiroth allowed his hand to drop away and an eerie, bitter bout of laughter bubbled in his chest. "You know nothing," he whispered, though his voice failed him. Whether he speaking to himself or to Valentine, no one, not even Sephiroth, knew. For the first time since his entrapment in this young, pathetic form, the warrior felt helpless. Truly and undeniably, helpless. Not weak or pathetic, but helpless. Never since leaving Hojo's "tender, loving care" did he feel this way.

Like a newborn kitten, blind and deaf.

Sephiroth backed away from the Turks until his shoulder hit the door to his bedroom door. Hesitantly, he knocked, ignoring the eyes upon him. When Tifa answered, timidly, he asked for entrance. Worried, she granted it, only to catch a glimpse of the prideful SOLDIER at his lowest. Blood streaked his pale face and stained his hair. His complexion had taken on an ashen hue, and brilliant eyes of green were almost gray.

Tifa reached out to touch him, but before she could, he collapsed.

Something was wrong…very wrong.

But sleep was so tempting…so warm and numbing. The girl's cries for help were drowned out by the haze of oblivion, and echoed like droplets of water in the heart of a labyrinth of caves.

000X000

_Who am I? The question fills my mind like a gunshot. Loud, overbearing and it kept hitting again and again. Who am I? Who am I? Who. Am. I? Without Mother—no, Jenova—whispering in my ear, urging me to ascend into my rightful place amongst the stars…it is as if I am without purpose. The little hero, Cloud Strife, is no longer so small. He is no longer weak or pathetic…he is no longer a puppet. _

_ He is the chosen now. And I the fledgling boy at the cusp of manhood. In essence, we are the same, he and I. But our fates, both physical and spiritual, have been altered. I can see it clearly now. But I do not wish to accept it. _

_ I cannot accept it!_

_ Yet…_

"Sephiroth!" _is all I have left my name? _"Sephiroth, wake up. Please!" _Is a name worth anything? Does it define me anymore? Am I worth anything without my name? Am I worth more without it? I wish…I wish I understood. I hate this confusion. I hate living this nightmare! Defying death may have been a blessing of my strong will, and my many travels through the Lifestream have granted me endless knowledge on the secrets of life itself, but this…this life I have no reason to live. I have no reason to endure. _

_ I am nothing. I survived my destruction and outlasted that of my enemy, my foolish puppet and clone, to live a life that will never be mine. I do not belong here._

_ Then again, I've never belonged anywhere before. _

"Gaia damnit, Snowflake, wake up or I'll kick your lily-white ass!"

_Tifa…_

000X000

Sephiroth thrashed as his sleep proved fitful and feverish.

Awaking to tangled sheets soaked in sweat was testament to his unconscious struggles. However, awake was a relative term. His world had taken on a strange, sepia tint and his head spun as if the Planet were wobbling upon her axis. Sephiroth found his limbs refusing to cooperate and his efforts to sit up exhausting.

He ceased his struggling upon hearing the opening of a door, and seeing something shift at the corner of his frame of vision.

"What are you doing in here? I told you to get out." it was Tifa, she must have been kneeling beside him for was now standing between him and whomever was attempting to come inside. Judging by her harsh tone, she was furious.

"He's my son," the intruder had the gall to say.

"What kind of father are you?" Tifa shouted,"Lucrecia said you were a good man. She said you weren't abusive to her or Sephiroth. She said you were never violent!"

There was a moment of silence, before Valentinue spoke up," I admit I am a poor father, but I never laid a hand on my wife. I never hurt her or my son. I love them both…dearly. I would do anything to protect them."

"You do not consider slapping then shooting your son as abuse? You call beating the shit out of him love? I bet you knocked around Lucrecia too, didn't you? I bet that's why she left!"

"ENOUGH! You know nothing of which you speak."

"I know what I've seen why own two eyes!"

"Lucrecia did not leave. I never hurt her...I never meant to harm Sephiroth…but…"

"Leave, you've done enough damage for today. Can't you see that?"

"I cannot leave. Sephiroth…he needs my help." Sephiroth heard shuffling and the clink of glass.

"What is that?"

"Medication. He occasionally has episodes like this and they're typically caused by stress. He won't wake up without it."

"Why?"

"A blood disorder. Both his red and white blood cells are malformed…not in such a way to be life threatening…or at least, that is what my wife told me when he was young."

"How does that stuff in your hand help?"

"It's infused with mako. In small amounts it can prove beneficial as a medicine."

"Isn't mako what they use to make electricity?"

"Electricity, weaponry, medicine…SOLDIERs."

"Is that why he wants to be a SOLDIER? Could the procedure cure him?"

"Cure him…or kill him." Valentine murmured," His body reacts well to mako. Almost too well. A sudden influx of mako into his system could cause irreparable harm, for his blood cells would reconfigure and mutate so quickly that…"

"Oh…"

"Do you understand now why I must protect him? I know that my earlier display was inexcusable, but I was desperate to save my son from himself. He…he is not the same boy I knew. Without his memories, he has become a stranger. And I am not Lucrecia…his mother was always better at reading him when he was having a fit of temper. I simply do not know how to react."

"I…I still haven't forgiven you for hurting him or for trying to force me to become a Turk."

"Your forgiveness is not expected, Miss Lockheart." was Valentine's wistful reply as he curtailed around the girl and came to Sephiroth's aid. Ruby eyes locked with those of green. The Turk frowned slightly and placed a cool hand against the side of the silver-haired teen's face. "How is it possible you are awake?" he whispered, but Sephiroth, despite his awareness, was unable to respond. Almost lovingly, the Turk cleaned the crook of the younger man's elbow with a sanitary wipe, before guiding a needle into a vein.

Watching as the steel disappearing into his skin, the contents of the syringe oozing into his body like liquid fire, Sephiroth recoiled inwardly, balking at the memories that were brought to the surface. He hated needles! He hated mako treatments. Having a system that perpetually produced and recycled the mako in his cells was what allowed him to avoid the routine booster shots that many SOLDIERs needed after their initial mako showers. However…he no longer possessed that body. This one was broken and needed mako shots much like a person with a food allergy needs epinephrine.

As the last of the medication entered his bloodstream, Sephiroth felt something within him surge and rush. It was a tidal wave within his body and it threatened to consume him. It…it was exhilarating. It was painful, but far from unbearably so, and as the wave coursed through him, the ex-General found his heart begin to race and oxygen flooded his lungs as he gulped down gallons of air.

He knew the symptoms well, for he had watched many a SOLDIER be initiated into the ranks, even though he never experienced them before himself.

Vertigo, vomiting, paranoia and a whole splurge of other symptoms arose with the transformation from human into monster. Alongside the bad came a sudden spike of uncontrollable strength, heightened senses and increased cardiac and respiratory response. However, as soon as he felt swallowed up by the swirling vortex of adrenaline and mako, it spat him out…abandoning him.

Sephiroth blinked and did his best to breathe in slow, even breaths.

"Sephiroth," Valentine murmured and as their eyes met, the ex-General saw a genuine glint of love and worry in ruby-colored eyes. The man was watching him as he would his son. The son he had lost and would never have again. The son they both knew that Sephiroth could never be. "Are you well?" '_Do you forgive me?'_ he asked silently.

Lifting up a trembling arm in an attempt to clutch Valentine's suit jacket, his fingers refusing to cooperate, the silver-haired teen gave his response, "Your secret keeping could have been the death of me."

A hitch of breath was the only evidence of his being affected by Sephiroth's remark, "That is not what I asked. Are you well?"

"I want the truth, _Vincent_ . No more secrets."

Silence drew between them for a heartbeat and then, "…Secrets are a part of my being a Turk, _Sephiroth._" He reached up and curled his hand around Sephiroth's wrist and applied pressure in what was presumably a comforting fashion. "Secrets are what keep you safe and alive."

With a frown, the ex-General pulled his hand away and turned towards the wall. He could feel Valentine's eyes against his back. His rebuff hurt the older male, he knew it, but he could not find the energy to care. All Sephiroth wanted now was to sleep and forget this nightmare.

All he wanted was to wake up.

000X000

"Where's Tifa?"

"Miss Lockheart is with her father."

Green met crimson and the two men watched each other warily. The last Sephiroth had seen of the simpering girl were mere glimpses of movement as she attempted to drive Valentine from the room. Neither had offered a proper goodbye and for some reason it was bugging him. Not that he would admit it to his supposed sire…or himself.

Three days had passed since the incident in which they met. Three days since they said hello. Three days since he learned tidbits about his alternate self's life…Three days since the minimal trust between he and Valentine was broken in a burst of gunfire.

"You released her?"

"We granted her time to think. After all, she would make a fine Turk."

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, "How so?"

"Miss Lockheart is remarkably intelligent and skilled."

"Those qualities are not what make a Turk…" he looked pointedly away, his features hardening into a frown, "Experiences in the brutalities of life are what makes a Turk. She is but a child from a backwater village…"

"She has…potential."

"Leave her alone, _Vincent_."

"Why should I?" it was the closest the gunman had ever come to posing a challenge. The tension in the air thickened immediately, making it hard to breathe.

"What do you want from me?" Sephiroth found himself asking, reluctantly aware of his defeat. How he hated this body. How he hated this life. He hated everything! Why couldn't he have died alongside the little hero? Why did he have to endure, purposeless? His ever pressing desire to kill Strife was at an all-time low, it was as if the flame of his grand transcendent destiny that once gave him guidance had sputtered out.

"What I wish is for you to trust me, Sephiroth. I want you to stop this foolishness and give up SOLDIER. I want you to at least make an attempt to remember who you were."

"When did you become so talkative?"

"When did you become so foolish?"

"Leave me be."

"She's just a girl."

"Pardon?" Sephiroth glanced over his shoulder.

Valentine was toying with a pistol, taking it apart and putting back together again in a nervous fashion. "Miss Lockheart, she is just a girl. What does she mean to you? What makes her worth risking your freedom and life?"

The ex-General grunted and walked away, closing his bedroom door in order to put a barrier between him and Valentine. However, that did not mean he was unaffected by the Turk's question. Tifa…she was just a girl. A girl whose well-being he cared less about than the condition of his hair. She was a pathetic, cowardly fool who was hopelessly in love with an ideal. She wanted a hero to come to her rescue. She wanted him to be that hero.

Yet Sephiroth could not bring himself to hate her as she had once hated him.

So what did she mean to him?

The answer came quietly and without a flash or a bang.

"She is my past."

**-tbc-**

**A/N: (And the plot thickens. Will Sephiroth become a SOLDIER? Will Tifa become a Turk (this seems to be a very unpopular idea for some reason and I find I honestly find the fact rather amusing)? Where IS Lucrecia? **

**Thank you for reading. Please review and check out my newest poll!**

**Also, I THRIVE off of feedback. Please, throw me your wild conspiracy theories, ideas and predictions!)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**

Yeah. I have no excuse for this chapter taking so long.

**Rating (Chapter): **T

**Word Count: **3,169

**Disclaimer: **To quote another writer, "These are not my characters, I'm just abusing them."

**Not Again!**

**By Catsitta**

**Chapter six: **Memories not his own

Sephiroth stared into the mirror.

His eyes were green, but bore no mako sheen. In fact, as he examined his irises, the teen noted how dull the color was without the foreign substance bleeding into the pigment. No longer were there undertones of electric blue and aqua, burning bright and intermingling with the purest emerald glow he had only ever seen amid the Lifestream. Now, the green was flat, flecked with sharp shards of silver-gray and spatters of sepia.

He closed his eyes.

All his life, Sephiroth had wished for normal eyes, ones that were not like that of a cat's—luminescent with slit pupils. Yet here he was, his wish granted, and he could not be more miserable. Heck, he had everything he had wished for as a child. A father who actually cared about his well-being (in his own, strange way, Valentine did_ care_). A mother who did not shriek orders inside of his head (he had yet to see his mother, however). And a human body. His current situation attested to the saying: Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.

He had everything. Yet he had nothing…

000X000

"Alright, kid, you're all set."

Sephiroth stared at his arm, eyes fixated upon a vivid streak of puckered flesh. The mark reached from the heel of his palm to the crook of his elbow, and it stood out against too pale skin. A scar. He had never scarred before. It was yet another testimony to his pitiful humanity. How he hated it. He felt…purposeless. Helpless. Worthless. Nothing was redeeming about this form. Nothing! It was weak and broken.

Absently, his right hand traced the scar, skimming along the raised edges of the mark.

"Hey, kid…You okay?" Sephiroth scowled, thankful for the way his bangs shadowed his face. In the past few weeks, his hair had grown longer, well past regulation.

"I'm fine Doctor Fields." the former General replied, forcing himself to keep monotone. He refused to betray his internal distress. His mind was strong enough to overcome the weaknesses of this body. He would not lose control…

"It could be worse, you know. When you arrived, your vitals were flat lined. You were dead, kid, for who knows how long. Then, your heart started beating. It was faint. But it was enough. That scar right there is not something you should be ashamed of. It's a badge of survival. Endurance. Be happy that you got to keep the arm as well as your life, kid. You're doubly blessed in that sense of things."

"Are we done, Doctor?"

"Yes, Cadet Valentine, we are done. Good luck."

Quickly, Sephiroth stood. He hated hospitals. He hated Doctors. He hated himself. And that hatred burned, cold and wicked. It consumed him. It lingered like a Northern Continent chill. Gaia. He needed to get out of here. Fighting away the urge to turn around and wring the moronic doctor's neck, the silver-haired teen departed, his stride long and purposeful.

000X000

Instead of doing as Valentine demanded, and returning to their quarters, Sephiroth stalked the halls of the ShinRa, his experience as a General guiding his every step. He knew every inch of this building, including those that were top secret or supposedly did not exist. It was that former knowledge that unconsciously led him to a familiar floor…49. The virtual reality training room.

After peering through the window to make sure he was alone, Sephiroth entered a passcode at the side of the sliding door, one he had memorized in the early days of SOLDIER. Half of him suspected the code to be rejected, but lo and behold, it was valid. He smirked as the door slid open. The code was two-fold. Not only did it allow him entrance to the VR room, but it shut down any and all recording devices. It was a matter of privacy that the Elite enjoyed indulging in. Especially him.

Upon entering the room, lights flickered on and a compartment against on wall revealed what it contained. Goggles. Soon the high-tech device covered his eyes and the order given for a certain scenario. Twenty seconds later, Sephiroth stood in the center of Banora. Houses, quaint and calm made up the village. Trees, tall and heavy with pink-and-white blossoms, made impressive arches overhead, their fruits dangling in sinful invitation. He almost reached out to grasp the Banora White, but he stopped himself at the last second as reminded himself that the apple was not real. None of this around him was real.

For some reason, that sparked his newfound temper into fury. This surreal landscape was fake. The entirety of his life was chock full of lies, illusions and false pretensions to grandeur. He was sick of the unreal. But…

Sephiroth shook his head. Now was not the time to linger in the past. It was obvious that he was not going to wake up any time soon in his old life. Thus he hefted the standard issue broadsword he had "acquired" on a lower floor from a snoozing guard and gave the command for the mission to begin. It had been a strike to his pride to set the mission level at 1, but he knew that anything higher would likely leave him injured, and explanations for how he ended up with bruises covering half of his body was not something he was interested in.

Soon he was immersed a very basic monster hunting expedition. The locals of Banora feared for their lives and their orchards, so SOLDIER was called in to assist. Simple enough. Except, his left arm was terribly weak from its time spent in a cast and could barely support any weight. Wielding two-handed was something Sephiroth did for extra control and power when handling Masamune…but this time, it was the only way he could hold the blade. Again, he cursed his body for being so weak, before charging into the grassy fields where the monsters lurked. How he hoped that his previous experience in battle would translate into coordination in this body. It would be beyond infuriating to be unable to sync his mind and body, and end up hurting himself in the process of training.

It did not take long for the first monster to attack. The insect-like creature was flanked by two of its kind, and was quick to dart forwards. Sephiroth sidestepped the attack, surprised by his own reactivity. Maybe there was some instinct ingrained in these underused muscles of his. Instilled with a degree of confidence in his body, the swordsman stepped forwards and swung his broadsword in downwards slice. The blade connected, scattering the creature into a burst of pixels.

With a smirk, Sephiroth twisted on his heel and slashed another monster. And another. He recalled his fight in the underground tunnels with Tifa against the security robots, how the cast had hindered him then, yet he managed to survive the fight. Yes, this form was clumsy, weak and slow. But as the scenario played out, the longer he fought, his muscles began to coordinate with his mental commands. After twenty minutes, he was lost.

Lost in his memories. Lost in his thoughts. Lost in that haze that always consumed him in battle. It was a hyperawareness, of sorts, where the world moved in slow motion. It was also a dissociative state, where he could watch himself fight, like a spirit barely threaded to its corporeal form observing its mortal shell.

How long he remained this way, Sephiroth could not guess, but when the words MISSION COMPLETE flashed before his eyes and the scene dissolved, he snapped back into reality. A very dismal reality. Tugging off the goggles, the teen drew in a ragged breath and groaned as his body protested every movement. He was out of shape. Very out of shape…Despite the pain, however, he had not felt so alive in weeks. Since…since Tifa.

Growling at that particular thought, the former General put away the goggles and made his way towards the exit. That simpering, pathetic excuse for a human being was no concern of his!

Clapping broke the pensive silence.

Startled, Sephiroth turned, his eyes widening at the sight at the door. Tseng.

The Wutaian Turk wore an expressionless mask as he continued to clap, slow and patronizing. Those dark eyes of his were void of any emotion. After a short while, his hands came to rest together, folded elegantly before him. This man was the epitome of his trade from what Sephiroth knew of him. Cold. Efficient. Ruthless. Never did he fail a mission. Rumor had it that he loved his comrades like family, was calm and considerate when need be and always a level head in stressful situations. However, Sephiroth was not a Turk. He was the troublesome son of the best gun in business…A liability at best.

Straightening himself, Sephiroth stared down the Turk with as much confidence as he could muster. He had his pride, no matter how wounded, and he refused to cower before a mere mortal. Even if that mortal could fell him with a single bullet.

"Impressive," noted Tseng dryly.

"What do you want, Turk?" Sephiroth could not withhold the growl in his tone.

Arching fine brows, the Turk replied,"A moment of your time."

"Is that Vincent told Tifa when he attempted to recruit her as a Turk?"

Tseng tsk'ed softly,"Ungrateful child."

"Out of my way, Turk. It's apparent you have nothing important to say."

"Quite the contrary, Cadet, what I have to say could change your entire life. Opportunity knocks, so to speak. Shall you answer?"

"Shove it." Sephiroth attempted to sidestep Tseng, but the Turk widened his stance, making himself an immovable wall. His frame, while lean, was solid with muscle. A true force to reckon with, and the former General was in no mood to be laid out flat on his back. So he paused and shot the contrary man a deadly glare. "Unless your spiel differs from that of Vincent's, then we have nothing to talk about."

A sardonic smile crept upon Tseng's lips,"I assure you, what I have to say will pique your interest, Cadet. Come." He turned and motioned for Sephiroth to follow, almost as if the silver-haired teen were a disobedient puppy. Only curiosity and a great deal of self-restraint prevented him from biting that hand and showing this man he was no master of his, figuratively speaking of course. Instead, he bit his tongue and stepped out into the hallways, trailing slowly after the Turk when the man began to walk away.

An elevator ride and a few strange glances later found both men in the officer training facilities. All around them were ranked officials from every branch of the military, from SOLDIER to the Regulars to Turks. In one corner, a familiar face was pounding a punching bag to bits. Angeal. His attention was taken away from the First Class by Tseng placing a hand on his shoulder.

"This way," he commanded, guiding the Cadet through the maze of equipment towards a door at the room's back. As he opened it, the sound of gunfire filled Sephiroth's ears. A shooting range. How exactly were they supposed to 'speak' at a shooting range? Ignoring the questioning look Sephiroth threw him, Tseng continued forwards, his palm a constant reminder to keep moving.

Glancing around, the former general caught glimpses of the Turks practicing. Both were blonde, female and had eyes that promised death.

Sephiroth continued to walk until Tseng forcibly stopped him, turning him in the direction of the far wall, a paper target waiting at the end of the lane. A small case was set before him. Without being told what was within, the swordsman knew it to be a gun. But why?

"Assemble it," the Turk ordered with false nonchalance. "Then attempt to hit the target as many times as you can."

Irritated, the teen muttered a few choice words under his breath, before covering his ears with the nearby safety gear, and opening the case. To a man whom had never assembled a gun before, what lay before him would have been a mind boggling challenge. However, to Sephiroth, it was just another puzzle. He had never assembled this particular kind of gun before, but in his youth, he'd been training in the finer details of artillery. He hated guns, but he was trained in their use.

After a few seconds of analyzing the pieces, Sephiroth snapped the weapon together like a child might a toy, paying little heed to the eyes watching his every move. Slapping in the ammo cartridge, he finished his first task, and after checking the safety, he aimed the rifle, peering through the scope for a brief second, and fired.

Once.

_"Hold it steady, son. Take your time and aim. Feel the weight of the weapon in your hands, brace yourself for the kickback."_

Twice.

_"Happy Birthday, son." _

Thrice.

_"SOLDIER? You know the risks. You know what could happen if…"_

He kept firing until he had no shots left. Sweat beaded upon his brow, his head ached and his whole body trembled. What was he seeing? Hearing? Those flashes…those memories…he had never lived that life. No one ever called him son. Never once in his youth did he celebrate a birthday. He was born and raised to a SOLDIER, nothing else, no one ever questioned his entering the program.

Flickers of bizarre scenes continued to fill his head. He saw Valentine, glowing with fatherly pride. He saw a woman that could only be Lucrecia watching from afar, a small smile on her face. He saw Tifa, much younger than he knew he to be, training with her Master…playing the snow…laughing…He saw the ruins of a building, uniforms dotting the wreckage. His arm…it was trapped. He couldn't breathe. Gaia. Why couldn't he breathe?

Blinking rapidly, Sephiroth cleared these images and gulped down a few deep breaths. With trembling hands, his disassembled the gun and put it back in its case, quickly shoving it aside once done as if it were a poisonous snake, before removing the gear from his head. It was then that he heard clapping again. The room was eerily silent aside from that noise.

"You never fail to surprise me, Cadet."

He did not glance back at the Turk; no, Sephiroth's gaze was upon the paper at the end of the lane. Every single bullet went through the center of the "head" of the vaguely human shaped target.

"How so?" the teen asked, his voice strained.

"From what I have been told, you have never fired this kind of rifle…much less assembled one." Tseng approach him from behind, his shoes tapping against the linoleum floor. His breath was soon hot upon the smaller man's ear as he whispered,"and never once have you had the chance to wield a sword. Then add in the very peculiar fact that you knew a code to facilities that even the Turks do not know. Yet you assembled the gun with ease. You wielded a blade in a manner akin to a trained SOLDIER. You overrode the security of floor 49. And you speak and act with confidence and command that you never demonstrated afore."

A hand once again came to rest on his shoulder,"It begs the question: Are you whom you claim to be?"

Sephiroth jerked his shoulder away from the Turk, the motion sending ripples of discomfort through his overworked muscles. His thoughts were in a flurry. His body ached. And he was…confused. So confused. "I am Sephiroth," he replied softly. "That is all I claim to be."

Dark laughter filled his ears, reverberating deep in the older man's chest,"Keep in mind I am always watching, Cadet. I could easily make your life a living nightmare and Vincent would be unable to stop me from doing so. I could snap your neck right here and now…I could turn you in to the General for your actions. I could kill that pretty little friend of yours that Vincent brought to my attention."

"What is it that you want?"

"Nothing…at the moment. Be careful, Cadet, and refrain from interfering in matters that do not concern you. Your father cannot protect you always."

Tseng then walked ahead. Sephiroth, with no other choice, followed.

000X000

"I do believe this is yours, Vincent."

It was those words that Tseng greeted the other Turk with when they arrived in an expansive meeting room. Valentine, obviously acting as a security detail for the event that was going to commence here later in the day, scowled. Those ruby eyes of his were not focused on his troublesome son, rather, they lingered on the Turk at his heels.

"The boy appears to have too much time on his hands."

"I'll find work to keep him occupied, then."

"Rumor has it you're filling the paperwork to pull him from SOLDIER."

"Indeed," Valentine crossed his arms.

"Was it not for the sole purpose of—"

"—no. My legacy is not his burden."

"Your actions say elsewise, Vincent. Your wishing to recruit Miss Lockheart. Your pulling him from SOLDIER. Your training him guns…"

"If I were able to turn back time, I'd have kept him in Nibelhiem."

"You cannot deny he'd make a fine addition…"

"Leave."

"You have no command over me, Vincent."

"Woah! What's going on in here?"

Three head snapped around to look at who stood in the doorway. To the trio's unanimous surprise, it was Zack Fair. Of all people…The raven-haired SOLDIER sauntered closer, smiling all the while. Turk business would have to wait.

"I was passing by and heard arguing," Zack continued, paying no heed to the glares being shot in his direction. "Then I look inside and what do I see? Two Turks and my new buddy! It's been a while since I saw you Seph. And your arm is all healed up too. Look at the scar, wicked cool!" Soon he was standing next to Sephiroth and had one arm looped around his shoulders,"Where did you get that sword? I didn't think they trained Cadets to use them and with your dad being a Turk and all, I thought you'd be more of a gun fellow."

Sephiroth opened his mouth to speak, but Zack was persistent,"Now that you're healed up, we can train like I promised. You'll love it and hate it all at the same time, just you wait. By the time exams roll around, you'll be caught up with your classmates and know some cool SOLDIER secrets. The General gave me permission to, ah, mentor you, sorta. It's a temporary thing and likely was to keep me from continuing to pester him…but it's legit, kid. I bet you're excited!"

Before anyone else could say another word in the matter, Zack steered Sephiroth away from the Turks,"I'm going to borrow him for a while. Don't worry Vincent, I'll return him in one piece!" With that, they exited the room, every individual involved left utterly speechless.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **

—shuffles in quietly—

Umm…Hi. It's been a while, hasn't it? College and life stuff has kept me busy, but I did say I would finish my stories no matter what. Keep an eye out for more updates on all my works. I have some catching up to do.

**Rating (chapter): **PG-13

**Word Count: **2292

**Disclaimer: **Do I really need one at this point? It's pretty obvious at this point only the plot is mine.

**Not Again!**

**By Catsitta**

**Chapter Seven: **Hojo

"You could have cut the tension with a knife in there," Zack said once he and Sephiroth were in the elevator. "What did you do to piss off two Turks?"

The silver-haired teen suddenly found his boots immensely interesting for a while as he mulled over his current situation. Valentine wanted to pull him from SOLDIER. Tseng thought Sephiroth was a spy. Strife was General. And Zack Fair was apparently his mentor. Couple all of that with Tifa, faulty genetics and a missing mother, and one had a curious situation sitting on their shoulders. Every instinct demanded he keep aware and do all that was possible to remain in SOLDIER, if only for the mako treatments. However, nothing could be simple and the Turks were mucking up his plans.

Was it wrong of him to simply want to take a nap?

Glancing up at Zack, who was wearing a strangely serious expression, Sephiroth let out a resigned sigh. "It is a long story," he began. "I'm not certain if I've made sense of it yet myself."

"I love stories, Seph," Zack grinned. "And while I may not look it, I'm pretty dang smart!"

Deciding he had nothing to lose, Sephiroth allowed the past few weeks to pass freely from his lips. He confessed to his attempted escape, his finding Tifa and the peculiar incident at the shooting range. The First goggled at him when he briefly mentioned his escapades with the virtual training room and why he was carrying around a sword when no Cadet was actually allowed to wield one.

By the time the pair reached the training gym, Zack was silently staring at Sephiroth as if the teen had sprouted wings.

"You hacked your father's security system?" Sephiroth nodded. "You nicked a broadsword to use in the VR Room, which you never said how you gained access to, and you regained pieces of your memory while shooting a gun with Tseng?" Again, Sephiroth nodded as Zack shook his head in disbelief. "How have I never heard of you before, Seph, with all the hell you raise?"

"Apparently my memory loss altered my behavior patterns," Sephiroth said, wishing he could wake up from this nonsense and return to being a General. He was not meant to be this pathetic little weakling who the Turks sniffed around like bloodhounds. "I can assume before the accident, I was not as…insubordinate."

Zack ran a hand through his hair, "Woah."

They watched each other, both with accessing gazes, for what felt like a long time. Would the First retract his offer? Would he continue to ask questions? Zack did neither. Instead, he stretched his arms out, fell into a couple quick squats, before clapping both hands together.

"Let's get started on your training!"

Sephiroth was not sure why, but he felt his lips curve into a genuine smile.

.x.

They started with running. Endurance was a key part of SOLDIER. Even those who were enhanced needed to keep at the peak of physical shape to maintain optimal performance. Thus Zack jogged backwards around the track as Sephiroth fought to keep pace. Sweat beaded on every inch of skin as time was dragged by, kicking and screaming in agony. Silver hair soon turned grey as it plastered itself to Sephiroth's scalp and neck. His muscles burned as the lactic acid ate away at the oxygen-deprived fibers. His lungs ached with every forced inhalation of air. His heart drilled against every pulse point, desperate to escape Sephiroth's overexerted body.

When the First at last came to a stop, the former-General nearly collapsed at his feet. As it was, he could barely remain standing as his numb legs began regaining feeling and caused his whole body to tremble. How many laps did they run? After the VR Room, he had not felt this exhausted! Pathetic, useless body! No, he could and would overcome this weakness. Bracing himself mentally, same as he did when he was Hojo's lab rat a different lifetime ago, Sephiroth pushed away the pain and focused on the objective. Mako enhanced or not, he would not quit.

"Next exercise," Sephiroth said in a breathy command.

Zack cocked his head to the side, "You look ready to fall over, kid."

"Next. Exercise."

Teeth gritted together, fingers curled into the tender flesh of his palms, Sephiroth remained standing, his tone and posture proud and demanding. He would not falter. Not again. Failure may have been part of this body's previous vocabulary, but it was not part of it now. He was the Silver General. He was World's End. Mako, Jenova, Hojo—all of it be damned.

Recalling the incident in the tunnels where he fought beside Tifa with a broken arm and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as the ensuing revelations, Sephiroth found himself all the more determined to earn rank again. Without Mako, without SOLDIER training, how would he ever get around to killing Strife? How else could he fix this broken body?

"Push-ups then," Zack said, breaking the teen from his wandering thoughts. "Drop and give me fifty."

Sephiroth dropped and complied. His left arm gave out half-way through, still too-weak from disuse, but he continued onwards, used to doing the exercise one-armed because of the cast. Somehow, he lost count around thirty-five, his mind muddled by a black fog of fatigue. He kept going, despite the growing numbness. He would have continued until Zack stopped him but the world took on a precarious slant and tossed Sephiroth to the side, pulling him into the darkness completely.

.x.

He woke screaming.

Burning. His blood was on fire!

"Sephiroth!"

"Hold him down!"

"His vitals are off the charts. We need to slow his heartbeat."

He couldn't see. So dark. It was closing in.

"He's not reacting. We're going to lose him."

"Are you blind? He's reacting too much."

"Cadet Valentine…"

"…mako…"

"…ma… Val…in… "

Sephiroth succumbed to the darkness again.

.x.

_Beep. Beep. Beep_.

What was that noise?

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Gaia, it was annoying.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Blearily, Sephiroth shook away the vestiges of sleep. Whatever was making that atrocious sound needed to be destroyed, slowly and violently. Sitting up, he opened his eyes, and immediately, he regretted his actions. Memories, old but far from forgotten, caught him in their thrall. A childhood of torture. A prevailing demand for perfection. The ultimate weapon.

The beeping became faster.

All around him were mako tanks and unforgiving metal instruments of pain. A computer took up the southern wall, the keyboard littered with paper. Above, florescent lights glared down at him, harsh and unforgiving. Sephiroth shifted, but various wires and tubes prevented him moving too much. One was obviously an IV and another was monitoring his vitals, but the others…he did not even want to know.

Instinct bred from years spent under the "loving" hand of Hojo, Sephiroth began to free himself, heedlessly yanking out anything inserted beneath the skin, content with ignoring the blood dribbling from pierced veins as well as the unholy shrieking the machines began to make.

As soon as he was free, the silver-haired teen pushed himself off the edge of the metal table and onto the steel floor. Cold kissed bare skin as Sephiroth padded through the familiar hell, desperate to escape despite the weakness crawling up and down his spine, and his current state of dress. He was used to being nude whilst suspended in pure mako; a flimsy hospital gown was more than enough for his non-existent sense of modesty.

"What is going on in here?"

That voice…Sephiroth froze. He had yet to catch even a glimpse of the mad scientist since arriving in this world, and was thankful for it. But his luck had run dry. The rat-faced man stood less than three meters away, clipboard in hand, glasses perched precariously on a crooked nose. Yellowed, bloodshot eyes regarded him as another might an insect. Worthless and easy to crush under a shoe.

"You should be in bed, boy." Sephiroth shook his head. Professor Hojo scowled. "Get. Back. In. Bed. Now!"

"No."

Well-aware of the man's enhancements, the silver-haired teen sidestepped his advances, mindful that if Hojo managed to grab an arm, he would over power this body. As a child, Sephiroth learned very quickly how strong the scientist was and was incapable of fighting back efficiently until he was on Second Class mako treatments. At age fifteen, when he became a First Class and a General, he finally was able to gain independence from the bastard through beating the man half-to-death. It was then he began to become the arrogant weapon of war the world would fear. No obstacle in life proved more difficult than Hojo…until Strife. However, even Strife fell second on the hit list in his head when put beside Hojo.

Unconciously, Sephiroth clenched his fists, aware of the blood slowly dripping onto the floor.

"You try my patience," Hojo snapped, adjusting his glasses in agitation.

"I'm leaving."

"Security!" Startled by the mad scientist's shout, Sephiroth glanced towards the single door leading out of the room. It was electronic and the light above glowed red. He could not get out without the proper credentials. Hojo, even more paranoid than Valentine on a bad day, never kept his password the same for more than a few hours and would certainly not part with his identification card without a fight. Uncertain, the silver-haired teen backed away from Hojo, his path parallel with the door, prepared to bolt at first opportunity.

Then, the door slid open.

And Sephiroth's hope for escape fled.

Standing in the portal was none other than Strife, in all his copy-cat glory.

"Is something wrong, Professor?" asked Strife in a drawl that used to belong to Sephiroth. He crossed both arms as he flicked his gaze from the teen to the scientist, a frown growing on his angular face. "Why is Valentine here?"

Hojo's eyes narrowed, "_Valentine?_ This is Valentine's progeny? The anomaly…" Realization shuttered his features and he began to mutter incorrectly to himself. "Ah, yes, that explains it. Specimen S. After all these years."

"Explain yourself, Professor," Strife suddenly demanded in a snarl. "You know the rules about…"

"Human experimentation, yes, yes, I do indeed know the rules." he waved off the General with a careless flick of his wrist. "If you must know, I was saving the boy's life. The idiots in the medical ward misdiagnosed an ailment the boy suffers as well as mistreated him for the diagnoses they assumed. Fools, the lot of them. Nearly gave the boy mako poisoning believing they were treating a SOLDIER instead of a normal. Fields interrupted my research when he discovered the, ah, mistake of his co-workers."

A weird glint glittered in Hojo's yellowed eyes as he continued, "However, if what you say is true and the boy is the offspring of Valentine…then it explains so many things. I would love to continue my research…"

"NO!" Sephiroth shouted, cutting the scientist off mid rambling.

"If you knew the extent of—"

"—no. I will not. No," _Never again_. Sephiroth shuffled towards the door. He could feel Strife's gaze hot upon him.

Hojo threw his hands in the air with a grunt of disgust, "It doesn't matter. Once you enter SOLDIER, I will be able to conduct my studies. All candidates are screened and treated by me, boy. Take him away, Specimen C."

"His father recently submitted paperwork which leads me to believe Valentine will react poorly to the mako shower," Strife said once he opened the door and motioned for Sephiroth to leave, apparently believing the teen to be out of earshot. "What do you say to that, Professor?"

"React poorly?" Hojo let out a bark of laughter. "Valentine is an ignorant fool. Any child of Lucrecia is destined for great things. Great things indeed. Now be gone, I have things to do now that the boy is, ah, stable."

.x.

He felt strange. Cold and hot, weak yet strong…he wanted the world to stop tilting.

Sephiroth braced himself against the wall, uncaring that Strife was less than a few feet away, leading him from the labs back towards the infirmary. He shuddered, allowing the nausea to flow through him. The symptoms would pass. If Hojo was speaking the truth about the doctors nearly giving him mako poisoning attempting to treat him using SOLDIER medication, then it would be a matter of time before his metabolism burned the poison out of his bloodstream. Becoming one of the elite was a painful process of immunity building and cell mutation. There was a reason most people could not become SOLDIERs.

Breathing through the discomfort, the silver-haired teen tried to regain control of his body.

"The good Professor seems particularly interested in you, Cadet Valentine."

Goddess, did the blond nitwit honestly want to talk right now? Sephiroth wiped his brow with one hand and pointedly refused to look at the General.

"First you survive the attack by AVALANCHE. Then you start commotion amongst the Turks." Did everyone know about that? "Now Professor Hojo has become involved." Strife's tone caused Sephiroth to glance up. It sounded worried, pitying even. "I am signing your dismissal this evening, Valentine. Leave Midgar if possible. For your own good."

"What?"

"Did I stutter?" Strife soon loomed over Sephiroth. "If you stay, if you become a SOLDIER, the good Professor will…" He paused, clearly conflicted on how to continue. "It doesn't matter. Go to the hospital wing, retrieve your belongings and return to your father's quarters. I will speak to him myself on this matter."

And just like that, Strife put a giant crack in Sephiroth's dreams of becoming a SOLDIER and recovering a piece of his former identity.

**TBC?**

**A/N: (It's been a while since I've posted any fanfiction, much more since I updated this story. Feedback would be loved! So, review please. It keeps hungry writers writing.)**


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Final Fantasy VII, Adventure, Drama