It was not unusual for Ono to find men waiting at his door. But never in his wildest fantasies had he expected to find Chikage waiting there with… was that luggage? Actually Ono took that back. Some of his wilder fantasies had involved Chikage at his door, followed shortly by Chikage going through the door or just pushing Ono down in the hallway and…

Ono shook his head lightly and smiled. He was getting ahead of himself.

“Did Tachibana kick you out?” He asked, wondering what Chikage had done to earn the disapproval of his ‘lord’. They’d seemed fine at work, so something must have happened at home. He hoped, for Chikage’s sake, it wasn’t serious, though he imagined Tachibana would forgive Chi in a day or two.

Chikage pushed his sunglasses higher on his face with a finger and shook his head. “I left.”

Ono’s smile slipped for a fraction of a second. He turned to open the door, curiosity burning at his brain. “Really?” He asked politely.

“Yes.” Chikage followed him inside, bringing his suitcase with him. Ono waited a moment but Chi didn’t elaborate.

Why are you here, he wanted to ask. “Can I get you anything?” He said instead. The kitchen seemed like a safe direction to turn. His mind kept pointing out all the places he’d fantasized about having sex with Chikage around his apartment. In his head they’d done it in the doorway, on the floor, the couch, the coffee table, over the bathroom sink… The kitchen was safe. He’d never fantasized about Chikage pushing him down on the cool tiles, pinning Ono’s arms over his head while Chikage teased him, toying with each one of Ono’s pleasure spots while…..

Fuck.

“Am I bothering you, Mr. Ono?”

Chikage was staring at him. From the look on the older man’s face, he must have been trying to say something while Ono was staring off into space imagining…. He really needed to get laid. He wondered if Chikage would oblige.

“Mr. Ono?”

He smiled quickly and pulled down two mugs. “I’m fine.” Coffee or alcohol? Ono felt like getting drunk. He didn’t think it’d be a good idea getting drunk while alone with Chikage, though he was already part way there after the drinks he’d had at the bar.

“Coffee?” Ono offered. He pulled a bag of imported, pre-ground coffee from under the counter.

Chikage hovered close, his expression unreadable behind dark shades. Ono wanted to pull the glasses off and kiss Chikage senseless. He barely restrained himself.

“Sure.”

It felt like Chikage’s eyes were following him as he bustled around the kitchen, and he imagined there was something sensual in the look, as if Chikage was mentally undressing him or that it was Chikage’s hands on him instead of his gaze.

He really needed to stop thinking such things or he was going to need a cold shower before facing Chikage again.

“Are you sure I’m not bothering you, Mr. Ono?”

Only on a level he was fairly certain Chi didn’t understand. “No,” he half-turned with a smile plastered on his face. The coffee pot dripped to a halt and Ono quickly poured two cups, grateful for the distraction. He poured a double-shot’s worth of vodka in his own cup. “So, why did you leave Tachibana’s?” He asked, hoping conversation would distract him from perverted thoughts.

“My lord doesn’t need me any more.”

Ono raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t realized Tachibana needed Chikage in the first place. “Where are you going to live, then?”

Chikage didn’t answer.

Turning slowly, Ono leaned against the counter, his stance far more relaxed than he felt. The coffee burned down his throat, fortifying him with liquid courage.

“You can stay here if you don’t have other plans.” The offer was out his throat before he could censor it. Maybe the vodka was a bad idea after all.

“I’d like that.” Was it his imagination or was Chikage smiling at him?

He took another swallow of coffee to hide his blush. “I only have one bed.” Shut up, shut up, shut up…. His mouth wasn’t listening to him.

Chikage stepped closer. “Would you mind sharing? I can sleep on the couch if it’s a problem.”

Sleeping in the same bed would be a very, very big problem, one that was starting to press against the front of Ono’s tight pants. Bad idea, he told his mouth. Say no, say no, say… “I don’t mind at all.” Shit. He smiled widely, demonic charm kicking in even as he tried to shut his mouth. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Mr. Ono?” Was it his imagination or had Chikage moved even closer? “Do you like me?”

His mouth didn’t have an answer for that. Did he mean as friends or….

Chikage leaned down until his mouth was next to Ono’s ear. His breath tickled the rim of his ear and Ono shivered. Chikage set his coffee cup on the counter behind Ono. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

Ono felt like his head was going to explode. He shoved his cup onto the counter before he could drop it. In a quick leap that surprised even him, he was kissing Chikage deeply, his legs wrapped around the taller man’s waist.

Chikage held him and kissed back.

He didn’t know where Chikage’s new…. interest had come from, but he definitely was not going to let this opportunity pass. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who was having problems controlling their anatomy. Ono could feel a growing hardness pressing against him. He shifted slightly, winding his arms tighter around Chikage’s neck to give him leverage to slide against Chikage, encouraging the erection pressing against him.

Apparently Miss Sakurako wasn’t Chikage’s only lover. He couldn’t imagine Chikage learning to kiss like this from such a frigid woman.

Chikage’s hand slipped down Ono’s back to cup his rear. He thought his head was going to explode. Both of them.

They needed clothes off.

Reluctantly, he let his legs unwind from around Chikage’s waist. Large hands followed his body as he lowered himself onto his own feet, slipping under the fabric of his shirt and around to the small of his back.

Ono stepped backwards, trailing his hand down Chikage’s arm until he caught his hand.

“This way.” His smile was back in full force as he led the way down the hall to his bedroom.

The bedroom was dark when they entered. He kept the lights off, remembering Chikage’s sensitive eyes. Dim light filtered in through the sliding glass door that made up most of the right wall. Taking both of Chikage’s hands in his own, he walked backwards until his legs hit the side of the bed.

Chikage’s sunglasses were gently removed and set carefully on the bedside table. He could feel Chi’s eyes on him in the dark. Slowly, Ono wrapped his fingers around the hem of his shirt, dragging the fabric slowly up over his chest. A heated gaze followed, making the revealed skin burn with expectation. The shirt disappeared into the darkness. With one hand Ono popped open his fly. He pushed the tight fabric down past his hips and let them fall.

Two hands fluttered hesitantly at his side, as if suddenly unsure of where to touch.

Ono gently gripped Chikage’s wrists and placed the older man’s hands on his hips. Chikage’s thumbs rested just above Ono’s erection. He resisted the urge to push them lower.

He took his time undressing Chikage. Each button was carefully slipped free before Ono slid his fingers down to the next, the soft fabric of the shirt cool on his knuckles. Chikage moved his hands away long enough to pull his arms out and then returned to holding Ono’s hips in the exact same spot. The shirt fluttered softly to the floor before Ono untucked Chikage’s undershirt, slowly pulling it off of Chikage’s broad chest.

Ono gave into his impulse as the undershirt joined Chikage’s shirt on the floor. He licked his lips briefly before leaning forward to let his tongue play along the naked flesh before him. His mouth moved in a haphazard pattern, trailing wet lines across Chikage’s chest before settling on a hard nipple. Sucking lightly, he pulled the nub between his teeth and bit lightly.

Chikage’s breathless gasp went straight to his groin. Hands tightened on his hips, drawing Ono nearer.

They needed to fuck. Now.

Abandoning his earlier casual pace, Ono hastily removed Chikage’s pants. Lust coursed like fire through him as Chikage’s erection sprang free. He was on his knees in seconds, taking the thick member into his mouth with practiced ease.

Chikage’s fingers gripped his hair and Ono almost came from the feeling alone.

Apparently Chikage was close too. Salt tainted Ono’s lips.

Hands pulled him gently away. Ono looked up from where he knelt. Their gaze met, communicating a shared need through the dark. The hands slid down to grip under Ono’s armpits, lifting him onto unsteady feet.

They fell onto the bed together, ending up sideways on top of the covers. Their mouths met. He felt like Chikage was devouring him from the inside.

One hand on Chikage’s chest, he pushed the man away. Ono pointed at the bedside table. Chikage understood. He opened the drawer, fumbling with the contents for a second before returning with a thin tube.

Ono took the lube from Chikage quickly. He didn’t think he could handle Chikage touching him right now. Squeezing out a generous amount, he coated Chikage’s member with quick, efficient strokes, trying to avoid touching the man too much for fear of ending everything far too quickly. Pulling his knees up, he used the same hand to prepare himself, coating his insides as fast as he could.

All it took was a touch on Chikage’s hip to convey what he wanted. Their hips pulled together like a pair of magnets.

“Chi!” Ono shivered as Chikage entered him, hot and thick, slipping perfectly inside like they were made to fit together. In his mind Ono recalculated every fantasy he’d ever had. The real Chikage was so much better than he’d imagined.

Chikage was silent, as quiet as the shadow that was his name. He seemed to gain confidence with each thrust, pushing inside Ono with growing force and letting his hands wander. A large hand closed around Ono’s erection.

He came within seconds. Chikage held out for another minute, his pace increasing, moving with a kind of force that fit his image rather than the reality. When Chikage came it was like a mountain tumbling down on Ono. A heavy weight pressed him into the mattress and Ono found he didn’t mind. He actually kind of liked it, in a way that stirred his blood and made him consider going a second round.

They had work tomorrow. He was going to be sore as it was.

A touch on Chikage’s shoulder brought the older man off of him. They moved without speaking. Chikage pulled back the covers. Ono reached into the bedside table for some tissues and cleaned himself off. He considered a shower. His legs wouldn’t make it that far.

Chikage’s arms held him tight.

Ono had the strange feeling that he’d just found something he hadn’t even known he was missing.

“Here.”

Squall looked up and squinted, the dim light and his current pounding headache combining to form a rather strange vision in front of his desk. He rubbed a hand over his face and tried looking again. The face hadn’t changed.

“Seifer,” he muttered the name like the curse it had become not so long ago.

The blonde shrugged, dropping the packet of papers he carried on top of the stack already in front of Squall and sitting heavily in one of the plush chairs opposite him. To say Squall was surprised would have been an understatement. Beyond that, he wasn’t sure what he felt, or what he should be feeling.

At least they could finally settle the rumors of whether Seifer Almasy was dead or not.

Squall glanced down at the papers, withholding an involuntary shudder as he noticed the Esthar seal at the top of the page. His headache reasserted itself as he skimmed the first page.

“Esthar is transferring you here?” He would have been appalled at the audacity if the orders were from anyone other than Laguna. Days like this, he was almost ashamed the man was his father.

Seifer shrugged and lounged in the chair as if he belonged there. “I didn’t ask them to. It was your dad’s idea.”

Squall’s eyebrow rose. He was tempted to ask but he was fairly certain he didn’t want to know how Seifer knew his father.

A glance at the clock reminded him how late the hour was. He should have been asleep hours ago. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been asleep when he should have.

He had a call to make in the morning.

“Where do you want me?”

Squall looked up from his desk. Oh. Right. Almasy. He’d almost forgotten the blonde was there. Wishful thinking.

He read through the first page again, flipping slowly through the rest. Forget phone call, this warranted a full visit. Seifer would be acting as Esthar’s official agent at the Garden. It was all spelled out in the paperwork. He could refuse. Squall was in charge of Balamb. Esthar had no official say in its workings. He could tear up the papers and throw Seifer out of the Garden.

That was, of course, if he never wanted to have any further dealings with Esthar, never wanted to cross their borders, and never expected any kind of aid from them until he finally gave in. Half their budget came from Esthar funds.

He wondered what the press would say if the head of Balamb Garden decked the President of Esthar. Kiros was probably expecting it. Squall would be lucky if he got anywhere near Laguna until they were in the President’s private chambers.

For now, he had a different problem to deal with.

Rubbing his temples, he avoided looking at his old friend and enemy. “West wing, room 437. It’s a private corridor, mostly unused. Take tomorrow to settle in, but I ask that you don’t leave your quarters until I have a chance to inform security and the instructors of your new position. We’ll discuss official duties later.”

The Seifer he knew would have objected to being confined to quarters for a day. The Seifer he was used to would have at least made some sort of cocky or snide remark. Instead, the blonde stood calmly, barely an expression on his face.

“Understood.”

And then he was gone, the door sighing shut behind him.

Alone at last, Squall let his head fall to the desk.

What had his father gotten him into this time?

*****

“I don’t need him.” Squall glared across the metal desk, his gaze having little effect on the man opposite.

“Aww, don’t be like that, Squall,” the President of Esthar pouted.

“I don’t.”

“I think you do.” Laguna smiled. “Give him a chance. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Squall raised an eyebrow and stared. “He’ll get taken over by a Sorceress, try and take over the world, stab me through the chest with a spear of ice…”

Laguna waved his hands frantically, his smile faltering. “Now, now, that wasn’t his fault. You said it yourself. He was under Ultimacia’s control.” Puppy-like eyes pouted at him. “You’re not still mad at him, are you?”

Squall looked away quickly, running a hand through brown bangs. The hair extended farther than he remembered and he stared at the frayed ends between his fingers. He’d need to get it cut, or start pulling it back in a ponytail. Half the Garden would probably die of shock if he changed his signature hairstyle.

That thought made the ponytail sound a little more appealing.

Laguna was still pouting at him.

Squall sighed. “I’m not mad at him.”

“Excellent!” His father practically bounced in his chair. “Then there should be no problems with Seifer’s assignment.”

“Just because I don’t have a problem with him, doesn’t mean that the rest of the Garden won’t. Half the head instructors fought against him. Not to mention all of Galbadia hates him.”

“I’m sure you’ll take care of that.”

Squall didn’t bother arguing against Laguna’s blind optimism.

“So, Seifer is supposed to be Esthar’s official envoy at the Garden?”

“Exactly.” Laguna beamed, obviously pleased that they were moving on in the conversation.

“Why?”

Apparently Laguna had been expecting this question. He didn’t even miss a beat. “Because you need help, someone you can rely on and I’m so far away.”

Squall resisted the urge to sigh again. Why did he have to have such an annoying father? “I don’t need help.”

Laguna’s expression turned strangely serious, staring at Squall with a piercing gaze. “What time did you get to bed last night?”

He didn’t want to answer but staying silent would only make Laguna pester him more. “Four.”

“And the night before?”

“Five.”

Laguna leaned forward. “See. You’re overworked.”

“I am not,” Squall protested quickly. “It’s just been a busy week.”

“And when was the last time you were in bed before midnight?”

He couldn’t remember.

Laguna took his silence for the admission of guilt that it was. “And this is why you need help. Let Seifer take over some of the smaller stuff. I’m sure there’s some work you could give him.”

Squall frowned. “I do have a staff,” he reminded. “If I needed to delegate, I would have asked Zell or Quistis or Irvine to help.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

He had no answer for that.

“Seifer’s there to help you. That’s an order.”

Squall lifted an eyebrow. “From the President of Esthar to the leader of Balamb Garden?” Sometimes Laguna needed to be reminded of their positions.

“From a father to his son.” Sometimes Squall forgot his own position.

With a sigh, he sank back into the chair and gave up. Seifer would stay, for as long as Laguna had this strange whim of his.

Squall was not looking forward to announcing the Garden’s newest arrival.

*****

The cup was placed on his desk without comment. Squall glanced up briefly and nodded his thanks to the blonde before taking a sip. His shoulders relaxed at the first sip, a slight smile slipping across his lips. He didn’t question how Seifer knew the exact way Squall liked his coffee.

Silence stretched between them, interrupted only by the turning of pages and the soft glide of his pen.

In his head, Squall could hear Laguna nagging him about being anti-social and doing too much himself.

“I haven’t seen you around the halls,” Squall started awkwardly. This was the first time he’d spoken with the blonde in the week since his arrival.

Seifer shifted in his chair. “I thought I’d take a page from your book and try the whole nocturnal thing. Less people around that way.”

“I’ve never known you to avoid crowds. I thought you liked the attention.” He couldn’t help the barb. Old rivalries died hard.

“Not when they come equipped with pitchforks.”

Squall stared across the desk and frowned. “It’s not that bad.” Someone would have told him if it was.

“You haven’t been to Galbadia recently.”

While that was true, he couldn’t imagine the people there being that hostile. They’d hate him certainly, but pitchforks seemed a bit far-fetched. “And you have?”

“Only once and it was memorable enough that I’m never going back.”

The thought the Seifer would ever bar himself from an entire continent was disturbing. He wondered if Laguna knew the details.

At a loss for an appropriate response, Squall turned back to his paperwork.

Loose bangs fell across his face as he tilted his head back down, the ends brushing against the paper before him and obscuring half the page from his sight. He tucked the strands back in a gesture that was becoming so common it required barely a thought, and turned the page. His hair stayed in place for a whole of five seconds before falling loose again.

He sighed.

“Here.” Seifer stood, moving quickly around Squall’s desk to stand behind him. Squall had to force himself to stay still as cool fingers efficiently pulled back his hair and tied it securely. The improvement to his field of vision was startling.

“Better?” Seifer returned to his seat, an unreadable expression on his face.

Dazed, Squall touched the cord in his hair. “Yes,” he answered slowly. “Thanks.”

He should have done this ages ago.

“In case you didn’t get the memo,” Squall looked up as Seifer spoke, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t have to ask for what.

“You’re forgiven.” Surprisingly, Squall meant it.

“Thanks.”

Awkward silence fell between them again. Squall stared at the pile of papers on his desk and weighed the options between work and sleep. Was it his imagination or had the stack grown while they were talking?

“Anything I can help with?”

For the first time since Seifer’s arrival, he seriously considered letting Seifer help.

Squall dug thought the papers and handed Seifer a blue binder. “Here. Read this and report back.” It was a request for aid from the farmers in Timber, complaining about the recent drought ruining their crops. Attached was a long and overblown report by some scientist sent to survey the area. It was dull, boring, and possibly the least critical piece of paperwork on Squall’s desk.

He relished not having to look at it.

Seifer leaned back in his chair and cracked open the binder.

A glance at the clock told Squall how late in the evening… morning it was. “Aren’t you going to bed?” Surely Seifer had something better to do than hang around a dark office when dawn was fast approaching.

The look Seifer gave him reminded Squall of their childhood. “Aren’t you?”

Another glance at the clock and some quick mental calculations told Squall that he’d been awake for far too long. He had to be up again in four hours for a staff meeting and then a meeting with Dr. Kadowaki about medical supplies.

Seifer watched him. In a way it was like being around his father again.

“Fine.” Squall tossed his pen on the desk and stood.

He chose not to comment on the pleased smile Seifer gave him.

*****

Seifer appeared in Squall’s office again the next night and each following night until Squall began to wonder if Seifer had nothing better to do than hang out with in the headmaster’s office during hours when most sane people were asleep. He would have been tempted to kick Seifer out, but Seifer had somehow turned out to be incredibly helpful. He read every document Squall gave him by the next day and came back with intelligent, well thought out solutions. Who knew that the agriculture problem in Timber could be solved by a couple well-placed irrigation ditches?

With Seifer’s help in lightening his workload, Squall had even managed to get six hours of sleep the past few nights, though his new earlier bedtime was probably more attributed to Seifer’s pointed looks and subtle comments as the hour grew later than any actual decrease in work. Squall certainly hadn’t noticed the pile on his desk thinning to any discernible degree. He had to admit that despite their checkered past he was somewhat enjoying having company while stuck in his office late into the night. But even the companionship was nothing compared to the largest benefit of Seifer’s presence.

He brought Squall coffee. Good coffee, from a brand Selphie had practically mainlined a month ago, thus leading to a Garden-wide ban of coffee in public places. Sometime in the last day or two, the coffee had turned into coffee and dinner, after Squall had accidentally admitted to frequently skipping meals.

Laguna had called to yell at him for not eating the next day and Squall wondered if Seifer’s main reason for being here was just to spy on him. He wouldn’t put it past either of them.

It was strange how he was starting to group Seifer in the same general category of his father. They both seemed to have some strange preoccupation with his health. Seifer reminded him to eat and to go to bed and tied back his hair when it fell loose and reminded him to have his shirt cleaned whenever he spilled something on it. Seifer had only been here a month and yet somehow he was becoming indispensable to Squall.

That should sound weird to him, but it didn’t.

“Come on.” Squall looked up to find Seifer at his elbow, a patient smile on his face.

He stood slowly, giving up on paperwork for the night after realizing he’d been staring off into space for the last half hour. Seifer moved around the office, putting away their paperwork and turning off lights. Squall followed Seifer out the door, keeping easy pace as Seifer lead the way to Squall’s quarters, set only a few doors down from Seifer’s. At first he’d arranged it that way to keep an eye on the blonde. Now it was just a matter of convenience.

The halls were dark, lit only by dim track lights that brightened minutely as they passed. His shoulder bummed against Seifer’s as he stumbled, tiredness making him miss a step. The blonde’s hand on his arm steadied him and then stayed there for a short moment as they walked. Squall kind of enjoyed the touch, in a strange sort of way.

Seifer’s hand drifted slowly down Squall’s sleeve as they walked until it rested lightly against Squall’s own. Their fingers entwined, seemingly by force of gravitational pull rather than intention.

Squall glanced down at their hands. Seifer’s face was a calm mask.

He let his hand stay where it was.

It seemed like they reached his quarters far too soon and Squall found himself strangely disappointed at the prospect of going to bed alone.

Their fingers slipped apart as he tapped out the combination to open the door. He didn’t bother with secrecy. Seifer already knew it.

The door slid open with a low hum.

“Good night,” Squall offered quietly as he turned back around.

Seifer wasn’t where he expected. Strong hands pressed him against the wall, not hard enough that he couldn’t escape but enough that he could feel the pressure of contact with another body. Warm lips covered his. He sighed, not realizing what he’d been missing until he found it.

They separated slowly, hands still lingering on each other in a loose embrace.

Seifer was the first to pull away, a small smile stretched across lips that Squall could still feel pressed against him. “Good night.”

A similar smile was on Squall’s face as he stepped into his quarters.

He was going to have to admit that Laguna was right.

Cloud opened the door and froze. His fingers clenched around the knob, the color quickly draining from his knuckles. Surprise kept him from immediately reaching for a weapon. His sword was still upstairs but he could improvise. Peace had made him complacent.

“Hello, Cloud.”

The voice was the same as he remembered. No matter how long he lived, he doubted he would ever forget the sound of that man’s voice. He stared into brown eyes that should have been green.

“I can understand if you don’t want to invite me in,” Sephiroth said, as if he hadn’t just torn apart everything Cloud had thought he knew simply by standing there.

He should be getting a sword.

“Why are you here?” He asked instead.

“Where else would I go?”

Cloud couldn’t think of an answer.

“You’re dead. I killed you. Twice.”

Sephiroth shifted on his feet. He wore common street clothes – a white shirt and black pants, plain enough that he could have blended into the crowded streets. Cloud couldn’t remember ever seeing Sephiroth out of uniform. “I don’t understand it either.”

He was dreaming. That was the only explanation he could think of. Yuffie had made dinner last night and it must have given him food poisoning or something to affect his dreams. Sephiroth hadn’t sounded this… sane since before Nibelheim. But even back then Sephiroth’s eyes had always been green. Hadn’t they?

“Should I leave?” The politeness reminded Cloud of the officer Sephiroth had once been.

“No,” Cloud answered slowly. Even in his dreams he didn’t trust Sephiroth outside of his sight. He stepped behind the door, giving his old friend and enemy room to enter.

Silver hair swayed as Sephiroth moved, all but a few wayward strands pulled back into a long ponytail. Sephiroth tucked a few loose hairs behind his ear as he looked around the bar, interest clear in his eyes. Cloud wasn’t certain but he thought Sephiroth was smiling, not the mad grin that had marked the end of his days but an honest, pure smile. It was far too human. Cloud felt his chest tighten. He missed the old days, before the world went insane. Before Nibelheim.

Sephiroth turned to look at Cloud. “This is a nice place. I’m happy for you.”

“Why?” The word slipped from his lips, the distillation of far too many questions pounding in his head.

He was never letting Yuffie cook again.

“Why am I happy for you?” Sephiroth tilted his head slightly. “Because you deserve it after…” He stopped himself. “I’m sorry.”

Cloud pulled out the nearest chair and fell into it. Sephiroth… Sephiroth never apologized. Never.

“I think I need to wake up now,” he whispered to himself.

“You’re not dreaming.” Cloud glanced up from the floor. Sephiroth had stepped closer. “I know it seems that way. I’d thought so at first. But this is real. I don’t know how, but it’s real.”

“I don’t believe you.” Not believing was safer than thinking… than trusting….

Silver hair brushed his cheeks. Cloud closed his eyes, feeling the press of warm lips against his own. They’d only ever kissed once. Cloud had been nervous, afraid to approach his superior officer but then Zack…. The memories cut him deeper than a sword ever could and he involuntarily reached up, gripping tight to the open top of Sephiroth’s shirt.

He could feel a heart beating beneath his fingers.

Cloud pushed away quickly, reality punching him in the gut. “You’re real.”

Sephiroth smiled slightly and stepped back, seeming to sense Cloud’s need for space. “I said as much.”

The wood of the chair pressed against his back like an anchor. He welcomed the pain as he leant back a bit too hard, using it as a focus to ground his thoughts. He took a slow breath and let old walls reform. His gaze sharpened. He glared.

“Who are you?”

If Sephiroth was taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation, he didn’t show it. “You know who I am.”

“You’re another clone,” Cloud answered uncertainly, his instinct telling him he was wrong even as he said it. They’d gotten rid of the last of the clones over a year ago.

“I’m not.”

He knew it was the truth. “How? Why?”

Sephiroth moved slowly, as if trying not to frighten a wild animal. He stepped around the small table and took a seat opposite Cloud, his hands folded on top of the table. “I can’t tell you either. I know I was never quite gone. Even after you’d killed me,” he smiled slightly, “both times, something of me remained alive in the Lifestream. I remember it all, almost as if it was a dream.”

“Then why come here?” Cloud asked quietly. There was only one way this could end. There was only one way it ever ended. His choice was merely whether to kill Sephiroth now or wait until the damage was already done.

He wasn’t sure he could do it again, not without some sign that this wasn’t the Sephiroth he used to know, the one he’d fallen in love with.

“Do you honestly think I would go elsewhere? Even with our…” A frown crossed Sephiroth’s face and quickly melded back into the polite smile Sephiroth wore. “…recent history, you’re the only one I have left. You may not believe it, but I still feel for you as I once did.”

Cloud told himself not to be swayed by Sephiroth’s words. He would turn against them, sooner or later. He didn’t want anyone else to be hurt because of his own weakness.

“I don’t expect you to trust me,” Sephiroth continued, his voice an echo of Cloud’s thoughts. “But this last time… I’ve changed.” He shifted, leaning back in his chair and pressing his hands flat against the table. “I don’t know how I left the Lifestream, but it’s still with me. Even now, I can feel the planet as if it were a part of me. More than Lucrecia or Hojo or Jenova, the planet is my parent, at least in my current incarnation. I can’t go against it.”

“Oh.” It sounded plausible. Strange, but plausible and Cloud desperately wanted to believe it. He didn’t know if he could risk it.

A glance at the clock told him that the others would be returning soon. He had a choice to make.

Slowly Cloud stood, brushing a hand through his hair more as a self-calming gesture than an attempt to neaten it.

“I can’t promise they’re going to like you, but for now you can share my room,” he said finally. “I’ll show you around. Tell me everything you can remember.”

Sephiroth smiled at him and he felt like last ten years had never happened.