Whether you were a Third Class SOLDIER getting your injections for the first time or a seasoned First Class, used to the bi-monthly Mako treatments that kept Shin-Ra's special forces in prime physical condition, there was one shared universal understanding between the troops as far as those things were concerned: they sucked.

Dr. Hojo, after securing a wad of cotton to another young man's elbow with some tape, seemed to remember this. "Go home, boy," he told Cloud Strife, who was climbing out of the examination chair on shaky legs, in the nicest voice the scientist seemed able to halfheartedly muster, "Your guest should collect you from the waiting room."

Cloud nervously paused, his good arm braced on the arm of the chair for support. Hojo was already bent over his folder though and recording the results from his test, glancing occasionally at a nearby computer screen with his readouts. Mouth twisting, Cloud staggered out of the lab and into the waiting room he had spent almost an hour in a little earlier. There were just a few other SOLDIERs waiting, as it was so late at night. Like him, they were brand-new Thirds and looked nervous as hell for their first injection ever.

There was a lab assistant sitting at a desk who checked everyone in for their appointments. He glanced at Cloud and droned, "You'll hear about your results in a few days."

"Thanks," the blond muttered in response. The man's face was blurry and his arm throbbed—the SOLDIER cocktail hurt like hell, apparently, and the pain was quickly spreading to the rest of his arm. His feet felt heavy as he trudged to the end of the room.

"Hey!" the assistant yelled as Cloud attempted to push open the door that was the exit, "We told you guys to have someone come pick you up. Where's your guest?"

"Oh," Cloud said, and his voice sounded very loud to his own ears. He ignored his three fellow SOLDIERs scattered here and there in the room and waved the attendant off over his shoulder. "No one's comin'. I'll be alright."

"…Are you sure?" The man sounded hesitant but also like he couldn't be bothered—and Cloud didn't blame him. The room was packed when Cloud showed up earlier that afternoon, all the new Thirds getting their requirement checkups and injections completed.

"Yeah," Cloud answered, but then the world spun and he cradled his arm to his chest, hissing through his teeth. There was a small two-seat couch nearby in the corner by a table filled with outdated magazines. It was stiff and uncomfortable, but when Cloud fell sideways and landed on it the thing suddenly felt better than his bed a couple dozen floors above.

Someone snorted from nearby and Cloud scowled into the back cushion of the couch. To save some face he mumbled, "I'll just stay here," and fell quiet as the injection began to take hold.

The fabric of the couch became scratchy and rough on his skin and Cloud managed to roll onto his back, his sweaty bangs plastered to his forehead. He tried to push them away but his arms, especially the one where he had been injected, were too heavy to move. The harsh fluorescent lights of the waiting room danced before his watering eyes. The light fractured into dozens of bright colors that shimmered along with the tremendous beat of his heart.

No one bothered him. The remaining Thirds eventually were called in for their tests and left with their own friends, out of sorts. Some needed to be carried. Cloud was only half-aware of all this; his breathing grew more labored, his skin more tight and itchy, and his stomach more sour as another hour crept past.

Eventually the attendant left and after a moment of indecisiveness kept the lights on for the strange passed-out man on the couch, leaving without a word. Cloud drifted in and out of consciousness for a time, occasionally burping and needing to choke back an onslaught of vomit. He noticed dimly that he was on his back and would probably asphyxiate on it, but the thought of moving his head to the side was too great, not while his body felt like burning lead.

Everything from his fingertips to his toes ached; his skull throbbed with a pain so great it was making him sick; the muscles of his gut continuously spasmed and he again had to fight off sickness; his mind swam with disorientation and his head with nausea. He heard the rumors—despite official denials by the higher-ups it was pretty universal knowledge that they were being dosed with high concentrations of Mako. Mako belonged to the planet, was energy (and to a religious few was even condensed Lifestream)—what the hell was it doing in a human body?

Somehow Cloud became more aware of his surroundings for a moment, shocked out of a dream he'd been having with his eyes open. His clothes were making him cold and clammy despite the fever; they were soaked through with sweat.

Oh. There was someone standing beside him, someone in the labs after-hours. Cloud's lashes fluttered as he struggled to focus on the pair of legs planted a few feet away. He followed them up, up until he peered into the face of a man Cloud had only glimpsed a few times since arriving at Shin-Ra four years before—Sephiroth.

"I said, 'what are you doing here?'" The man asked, apparently for the second time—that was probably why Cloud had suddenly come back to himself a minute ago.

Cloud frowned at him. The lights reflecting off the other's hair sent bolts of pain to his brain.

Sephiroth got a tiny bit closer and bent slightly at the waist, inspecting Cloud with a frown. "Why did no one retrieve you?"

If he hadn't been doped up on whatever the hell Hojo had shot him with Cloud would have replied with something a bit more cool, something more befitting of a Third Class who had struggled stubbornly for years to be worthy of this very man's attention and time. Instead, sick to his stomach and delirious with pain, he responded with pure honesty: "I don't have anybody that would come to pick me up."

His words were quiet, so much so Cloud himself wasn't even quite sure if he had spoken. Sephiroth had evidently understood him, however, because he stood back up and his hands went to his hips. His expression was unreadable.

The doorway to the labs slid open with a hiss and Hojo's nasally voice filled the air. "What is taking you so long, boy!?" Then: "What is he still doing here?"

"No one came for him," Sephiroth's deep voice answered, calm as always.

"Well, I don't have all night. We tell them to make arrangements on the form—his fault. Leave him. Come."

Hojo disappeared and Sephiroth turned his attention to the blond once more. Cloud, breathing heavily and trying to keep it together, murmured, "I'm sorry, Sir." As to what he was sorry for he was unsure, but Sephiroth tilted his head in acknowledgement. He pulled out his PHS, and, glancing at him once more, spent a minute tapping away at it. Then he turned and walked out of the room without another word. The sounds of his boots on the floor faded when the doors to the labs shut behind him and Cloud exhaled, somehow disappointed.

After another quarter-hour, Cloud groaning occasionally when the pressure behind his eyes became too much, the doors to the waiting room opened—this time the ones that led to the hallway, the ones feet from the couch he had fallen onto.

More soft footsteps—then came a voice, far too chipper for the Shin-Ra basement level at this time of night: "Damn! He wasn't kidding."

Rough hands cupped Cloud's cheeks and the blond, eyes closed, scrunched up his face in displeasure. The hands began to gently smack his face until those eyes opened.

"Hey," said a dark-haired man, smiling into Cloud's flushed face.

"Ughh," Cloud groaned in return.

"Pretty much, huh? C'mon kiddo." The man hauled Cloud to his feet, one arm immediately going around his waist as Cloud's legs instantly gave out. Cloud hung there limp and unresponsive, and after finally making it outside the doors the man huffed in annoyance and swung Cloud bodily up into his arms, an arm behind his bent knees and the other supporting his neck.

Cloud couldn't even care.

"Who are you?" he mumbled, forcing his words out.

"Zack Fair," the SOLDIER answered. Cloud gave a small jolt of surprise—it was obvious now that the man had said it; he could see the scar on his jaw and the messy hair. Although he had never met the man Cloud had quietly admired him from afar from very early on during his time in the regular army. Now the man was literally carrying him through the mostly empty hallways of Shin-Ra.

"I'm gonna be sick."

"Ohhh shoot!" Zack tilted Cloud's face away from where it had been resting in the crook of his neck. "You can't hold it? We're close, dude—it'll be just a minute."

"No," Cloud interrupted, trying to convey that the rocking of their bodies as Zack carried him was making him motion-sick on top of the mako-sick, "I'm really going to—"

"Waaah, just—just hold on a minute!" Zack ran down the hall a dozen feet and whipped out his ID. The doors to a random conference room for executives opened and he got Cloud over a trashcan in the corner just in time for him to violently throw up inside it.

The puke glowed green, and the sight prompted a revolted shudder and another round of sickness. Zack kept him mostly upright, 'mostly' because Cloud was no better than a rag doll at the moment. When he finished, shivering violently and mumbling apologies, Zack tsked and hurried him out of the room, this time with the trashcan as well in case they had another accident en-route.

When Cloud asked where they were going Zack just grinned. After a dizzying ride up the elevator they emerged on a floor Cloud had never been to and finally stopped in front of a door that Zack propped Cloud against like an umbrella as he searched around in his pockets for a different ID card. Zack got the door open, scooped Cloud up around the waist as the blond began to slide down the front of it, and dragged him inside.

"Jeez, you're heavy," Zack grunted. "Welcome to my apartment."

"Your…?"

"Well, duh. You're supposed to spend the night with someone after your injections—especially the first and when they up your dosage. It's not all that often but is a real pain in the ass when it happens. I'm sorry but I don't have a spare bed or anything…so the couch it is, huh?"

Zack's chatter was keeping Cloud alert, at least. The feeble strength in his legs was quickly failing but for the moment he could more or less look this strange, friendly man in the eye. "But I don't…" He shook his head, mind swimmy and green, "I don't know you."

In response the SOLDIER just shrugged. He was in his First Class uniform but without any of the armor or weapon harnesses that usually came along with it; his boots were untied and looked like they had been hastily shoved on. This man came for Cloud.

"Ehh, don't worry about it. It's not like I have a mission or anything in the morning anyway. I don't mind taking care of the occasional Third every now and again." Zack smiled, warm and kind, and Cloud weakly attempted to smile back.

"Shit, you're turning all pale. Here, sit." Zack more or less manhandled Cloud over to his couch. He returned a minute later with a hi-potion in one hand to find Cloud had thrown up all over his lap. Zack groaned but retrieved a towel, mopped up the worst of it, and pulled Cloud into his bathroom. He turned the water on, unceremoniously stripped Cloud of his clothes and pushed him in.

"Ow!" Cloud yelped as the water hit his skin. It felt like a thousand small pinpricks every second and he tried to back up out of the spray; his back hit the freezing tiles of the back of the shower and he recoiled with a curse.

"Sorry, man," Zack soothed as he got in with him. "It'll feel alright if you hang in there for a few seconds. Alright-ish."

When Cloud did not move for a moment too long Zack reached out and pulled him closer by the wrist. Cloud hissed through his teeth but, as Zack said, his skin soon became numb and seemed to hurt all over rather than have the pain concentrated in pinpricks as it was before. It wasn't so much better, but it was at least manageable.

"Your eyes!"

Cloud blinked dazedly at Zack and was surprised to find the man was hastily, but not ungently, working shampoo into his hair. When had that happened? He glanced down—he was naked, his soiled clothes in a pile in the corner that he could see through the gap in the shower curtain. Zack wore his boxers, however, and the situation finally seemed to sink past the mako-haze.

"—glow will go down around dinnertime tomorrow, probably," Zack was saying, "so you'll have to take your picture for your Mom and Pop or whoever in the morning. Once you get a few more injections the glow will stick around permanently."

"…You don't even know my name."

"Nope." Zack shrugged and moved Cloud's head a bit so he could rinse the water out. He then gripped the back of Cloud's head, tilted his head back, and made him swallow the hi-potion he must have kept nearby until Cloud was alert enough to drink it down by himself.

After swallowing the potion and grimacing at the taste he told him, "It's Cloud."

"Well, Cloud," Zack said, "Nice to meetcha. I'd appreciate it if you didn't throw up on anything else."

Cloud chuckled. "Nah. The potion helped my stomach, I think."

"Good—it was supposed to. You feel a little better now?"

"Yeah." The shower was so effective in keeping away the mako-fever that Cloud didn't want to get out—Zack ruthlessly pulled him out however and got him dressed again in borrowed pajamas all while keeping up a narrative about his friend Kunsel who had once gotten so drunk Cloud's sickness seemed insignificant in comparison. He was a nice guy but seemed absolutely no-nonsense when it mattered at the same time; despite Cloud's mumbling and increasingly sluggish protests he soon found himself lying on Zack's couch covered in blankets with another potion in his stomach and the emptied conference trashcan by his head.

"You might be disoriented when you wake up," Zack informed him, fluffing up his pillows, "try not to get up and run outta here—a guy I know did that once. There's a cup of water. If you gotta piss you know where the bathroom is. If you need me just yell—I'll wake up."

Cloud weakly grabbed the material of the sweatpants Zack had changed into as he began to walk away. "…Thanks," he mumbled.

"Heh. No problem." Zack left, and Cloud's arm fell to gently smack against the carpet.

Usually when Cloud got drunk he had strange, silly, vivid dreams. Something now about the intensity was familiar but they were not innocent. The next morning Cloud woke with a shudder; already he forgot what his dreams were about but his body prickled with the vestiges of something like terror. Unsteadily he pushed himself up on one arm, spikes of fear and adrenaline shooting through him.

He had no idea where he was. Cloud stood, clumsily knocking into the empty trashcan he hadn't noticed before and stumbled around on shaky legs. The apartment he was in was a comfortable size and cluttered with magazines, console game cases and empty beer bottles. The blond located the bedroom and clomped over to it, unnervingly clumsy. The door was open just a hair and he pushed it open, one arm reaching for the swords he didn't have strapped to his back.

A man was asleep in the large bed against the back wall, his arms spread and legs tangled in the comforter. Cloud could not see his face but recognized the messy hair.

The tension bled out of his body and he leant against the doorframe. The memories of last night came back to him, jumbled and vague.

Cloud returned to the couch he woke on for a moment but then moved away, his nose stinging. He was pretty sure he threw up on himself while sitting on it at some point. His head throbbed and he still felt strange.

A kitchen branched off the living room in the opposite direction of the bedroom and bathroom. Cloud staggered in and sat at the small island in the center, pillowing his head on his arms. He felt hungover.

He remembered Hojo…vaguely. After hearing so many horrible stories about transfusions-gone-wrong he'd been ready to bolt when the greasy scientist brought out that glowing green needle. Who knows, maybe he would have—if he hadn't been strapped down to prevent just that, that is. The shot itself hurt and the Mako hurt worse. He remembered a long period of delirious pain, then Zack Fair, SOLDIER First Class suddenly showing up and bringing him here. Zack got him showered and gave him potions, even being nice about the whole thing…Cloud didn't know how Zack found him or why he'd felt obligated to take care of him, but a small pleased part of him was glad he had.

"Oh, that's right," he mumbled. He lifted his head and poked around until he found a spoon (spooking himself each time he unintentionally slammed Zack's drawers shut). He sat back down and turned it around so he was looking at the curved end. It was a shitty excuse for a mirror but it did the trick.

His eyes glowed a real SOLDIER blue.

Zack said it would go away by dinnertime, hadn't he? It was no use trying to finally describe it via letter to his mom. The barest hint of green around his pupil, the strong, vivid, and clear blue of the iris…it was all a little unreal.

He found he desperately didn't want it to fade.

"It's cool, isn't it?"

Cloud lowered the spoon and watched Zack wander into the kitchen. He was barefoot and danced from foot to foot for a few seconds until he got used to the cold tiles. He shuffled over to a cabinet and rummaged inside for a mug. Zack glanced over his shoulder at Cloud, an eyebrow raised, and Cloud belatedly answered, "Oh—yeah, I guess."

"You guess? Aren't the eyes one of the things you guys are supposed to look forward to the most? That's how it was for me—though I was most excited about the super strength, I gotta say. And speaking of that—you couldn't have been a little more quiet with those drawers, couldja?"

"Did I wake you up? Sorry. I guess I'm not in complete control of my muscles yet. I've been trippin' over things all morning."

"You did, but eh. I slept in a little later than I meant to anyway. S'cool." The rumpled and still-sleepy SOLDIER mixed instant coffee and water in his mug after letting out a massive yawn.

"Hey, um…Zack," Cloud ventured during the awkward silence that fell while Zack waited for his drink to heat in the microwave soon after. "What happened last night? And thanks for that, by the way."

Zack waved him off. "Well, I was about to go to bed when Sephiroth texted me. I came down, got you and brought you up here—you threw up in one of the exec board rooms, by the way—and then got you in the shower and put you to bed. I hope that didn't weird you out too much. You were covered, man."

"Sephiroth?"

"Uh…yeah?"

Alarmed, Cloud sorted through the muddy memories of the previous night. "I don't remember seeing the General."

Zack frowned at him for a moment, then laughed brightly. He took his coffee out of the microwave and sat on top of his counter so he could face Cloud, hands cupped around the mug. "He said there was a Third abandoned down in the labs and asked if I wouldn't mind taking care of you for the night."

"…Wow."

"Why were you down there all alone, if you don't mind me asking? They told you to find someone to pick you up, right?"

"Yeah," Cloud answered uncomfortably, "I just didn't know anyone…that wasn't too busy. I guess I thought it wouldn't be as bad as it was and could walk home." Quickly changing the subject he asked, "So you know Sephiroth well?"

Zack shrugged. "Pretty well, yeah. Enough that he trusts me to take care of people like you in a pinch." The man's smile was kind.

"That's really cool. I can't believe I don't remember though…that's embarrassing."

"Eh, don't worry about it."

Cloud stayed pensive for another minute, a minute too long as far as Zack was concerned, and the man blurted, "Hey—you wanna help me make breakfast? You're probably hungry."

"Oh. That's tempting, but I don't want to bother you even longer than I have."

"No, I don't mind. My girlfriend's busy with her mom, so I didn't have plans for today anyway. Besides, you're still wearing my clothes."

Cloud glanced down at the hem of the pajamas, which hung down just beneath the sole of his foot, a few inches too long. "I have to put your uniform in the wash," Zack said as he wandered out of the room. Cloud sat there, turning the spoon over in his fingers, as he listened to Zack continue to talk to him while looking around for the blond's uniform.

"—but yeah!" he was saying, yelling from his bedroom, "Eventually you'll get used to the new strength and all that! Expect a few stubbed toes and some bruises before then though!" Then, a moment later: "Aw, sick, I found it."

He trooped through the kitchen with Cloud's uniform held out as far away from him as he could get it, his nose wrinkled. He disappeared from sight as he turned into a little alcove with his washer and dryer along with some pantry space and eventually returned to find Cloud waiting for him, amused.

"I left it in a ball in the corner of the bathroom last night," the SOLDIER sighed. "But, uh… how 'bout that breakfast, huh? Do you know how to cook?"

Three hours later—notably an additional hour and a half after Cloud's uniform was thoroughly washed and dried—Cloud finally returned to his own apartment, one he shared with another new Third Class as per ShinRa regulation. Rick was passed out on his bed, face down. Cloud's body thrummed faintly, his fingertips twitching with new, uncontainable energy.

For a brief moment he considered waking his roommate up to talk about their brand-new enhancements (finally!), but he did not. The guy was sleeping and would possibly feel like shit like had earlier whenever he did wake. Furthermore, they barely knew each other. Rick had been in a different platoon in the regular army and also in a different squad for the SOLDIER examination. The few stiff conversations they had thus far had not been very promising either.

Oh well. The new SOLDIER hung around awkwardly for a few minutes, unsure what to do with himself, before he decided to hit the gym and put his new body to the test. In changing out of his uniform and into shorts and an old t-shirt he got those stubbed toes Zack warned him about; his movements were extremely clumsy and balancing on one leg so he could stick the other through the hole in his shorts almost did him in. Eventually he made it, however, packed a bag and went to the gym. It was packed with SOLDIER Thirds—the ones recovered enough to make it out of bed, anyway.

Everyone was grouped together in small huddles gossiping like pre-teens. After waiting around for a few Cloud managed to get on a bench after someone got off. He laid back after putting his usual amount of weight on, stomach clenching with nerves.

One rep. Pause. He added more weight.

Another rep. Another pause. Even more weight.

Cloud managed almost twice his weight and only stopped doing reps because the man waiting next for his turn was giving him the stink eye. He got off feeling like his excitement was going to devour him alive from the inside out. It was all so easy, and it absolutely sucked not having anyone to share his joy with.

He hit the treadmill at a full sprint for long enough that, had this been even yesterday, he would have passed out right there on the machine. He eventually started to flag as the gym began to clear out with similarly exhausted men. The shot was wearing off, then.

He grabbed dinner from a place right outside HQ in Sector 8, the smells of the place and the people inside threatening to make him dizzy, and ate it alone in his apartment. This was… a very good day. He snapped his fork in half in one hand just because he could, and it felt great.

"How are you feeling?" he asked Rick awkwardly before he went to bed.

Rick stared at him for a moment. Cloud, thus far, had rarely tried to start conversations. "Fine," he said, "Felt sick as hell earlier but I'm fine now. Broke my PHS while answering a call."

Cloud cracked a smile, and, not knowing how to continue the conversation, retreated to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth he gazed at his own reflection in the mirror. His eyes were normal now, but they were the eyes of a SOLDIER nonetheless. A SOLDIER Third, Cloud Strife.

He looked away from himself as if scared and went to bed.

The next day Cloud took care of some things. After a morning run out on the track he solemnly packed up his infantry uniforms. For years he'd worn the things, and although there was comfort in the familiar blue and the soft scarf, he couldn't wait to be rid of them.

The line of men and women doing the same thing as he was long, giving Cloud time to bid them goodbye. His hands gave a small tremble as he finally passed it over and he held his breath, but the attendant did not tell him there had been some mistake, or tell him to keep them. She merely handed him two more uniforms and informed him that if he wanted more they would have to come out of his paycheck, next.

Uniforms in hand, Cloud went to a few more offices, picking up a spare ID card. He elected to pose for a new picture; in the one he'd gotten a few days ago he looked shocked, unable to comprehend he was really a SOLDIER, and maybe a little bit close to tears. No thanks. He dropped off a letter to his mom, handed his new supervisor, a SOLDIER Second, some paperwork, and got lunch in the new cafeteria.

He sat by himself and ravenously ate his chicken sandwich—the SOLDIER caf was, true to the rumors, a dream compared to that of the regular army's. He slurped at his soup, a little too hot, and when he looked up he realized Zack Fair was making his way over with a big goofy smile on his face. He dropped his tray down and everything on it clattered around. An apple rolled right off the tray but the man snatched it up and mimed throwing it into his face like a blitzball.

"Hey buddy," Zack said simply, sitting down after unstrapping his sword from his back.

It took Cloud a moment to respond, his eyes flickering around to the rest of the cafeteria to see if anyone else noticed or even cared about this anomaly. It did not seem to be the case.

"Hey," he responded a little too late, smiling hesitantly at the SOLDIER.

Zack just grinned. "You're lookin' a lot better. How did it go after I last saw ya?"

Cloud described his trip to the gym and his morning run with the words spilling out of him without thought. It was just nice to finally get it out. Better yet, Zack was an active listener; he seemed almost as happy as Cloud was.

"I don't mean to rain on your parade," Zack sighed when the blond finished, "But those shots don't suddenly make you the Warrior of Light or anything. Once it wears off a day or two after the injection you'll still be a little stronger than you were before, yeah, but nothin' too crazy." Cloud tilted his head at the unfamiliar comic book reference but did not interrupt. "But! I will tell ya some good news—it's a hell of a lot easier to build your stamina and muscle mass after even the first shot. It just takes a lot of shots over time to be as tough as me."

The man flexed, and Cloud laughed. "Alright. I heard it wouldn't last, I was just so… excited about finally getting it, I guess."

After a moment of chewing Zack abruptly frowned and squinted at him. "'Finally,' huh? Now that I think about it, you've been around here for a long time, haven't you?"

"…Yeah."

"Like when I was just starting out as a Third."

"Probably," Cloud said uncomfortably.

"Huh." Zack kept chewing, his expression unreadable. Then, whether he was being polite or not Cloud was unsure, but he said simply, "Well, welcome to SOLDIER, Strife. It's good to have you on board."

"Thank you."

Ethical or not Zack spent the rest of their meal giving Cloud the heads-up about everything that was to come as a Third Class. His schedule would be radically different, he would be out of the city far more often, the workouts would be harder, and 'mission report' and 'paperwork' would apparently become his least favorite words.

For the exam he'd only needed to know how to cast a Fire, Thunder and Blizzard spell, but now he had access to all kinds of materia, even summons if he ever made it to Second.

Zack snorted, "At least you don't have to take any more classes about the History of ShinRa."

When Zack had to go they bade each other goodbye, but Zack came jogging back with a sheepish grin almost immediately. "I forgot to ask for your PHS number. Mind sharin'? I'll hit you up. I wouldn't mind hearin' about what it's like to be a Third Class. I get a little nostalgic for those days." He wiped away an imaginary tear. After Cloud relayed his number he stared into the man's eyes, awkward but earnest.

"Thanks, man. Seriously."

"Huh?" Zack looked baffled. "Yeah, no problem." He clapped Cloud's shoulder and left.

The Third sighed. He hadn't expected to interact with Zack again, but…

His mother had told him SOLDIER was his chance to start anew, finally turn his attitude around—maybe she was right. Already things seemed to be changing for the better.

True to Zack's predictions his new workout regime was torturous. His first few days as a Third were exhausting and draining to both his body and mind. His hours were full of new tactical information, orientations, and training sessions. He was much too busy to worry about the people in his new squadron, squad G—he promised himself he'd make friends or whatever later.

At the end of that first, rough week Cloud collapsed face-down on his bed, not bothering to pry off his mud-caked boots, which hung off the edge. His eyes had only shut for a moment when his PHS rang.

"Yo! You free?" Zack Fair chirped on the other end when he answered the call.

Cloud had to fight off his automatic response to such questions of "not interested" and said slowly, sitting up, "Yeah. I can be."

"Good. Wanna grab a few beers?"

Whether Zack knew he was over the Midgar drinking age or not was irrelevant; they hit up a bar in Sector 5 that did not check IDs, especially not those of SOLDIERs. Finally, finally Cloud had access to all the privileges that came with the sleeveless uniform. It boggled his mind.

Zack seemed to be friends with everybody, and he introduced him to some people that also happened to be at the bar. After eating and filling Zack in on his first week on Cloud's part the two men went back to Zack's apartment, just to chill. Cloud felt uncomfortable at first but masked it with his usual cool. He was skilled at acting indifferently at this point.

"…What the hell?" He asked when he caught sight of the couch. Half of it was horribly discolored.

"Oh, Gaia," Zack groaned. "I fucked up with the bleach I bought. You puked all over the thing."

"Shit. I can pay for it."

Zack just waved him off. "Nah, it's cool, Spike. I wanted a new couch anyway, this just gives me an excuse. And hey—it looks kinda cool like this, yeah?"

It looked fucking awful, but Cloud, instead of saying so like he normally would, lied and said yeah, it looked kind of neat like that. Tie-dye.

He had to ask about the nickname, though.

"Um, hello," Zack said, pointing at his hair. "You could poke an eye out."

"And you couldn't?"

At the end of his third week as a SOLDIER Cloud knew a few things: upper level materia spells were hard as fuck, SOLDIER food could still give him the runs, and he'd actually made his first, real, honest friend since leaving Nibelheim. For whatever reason Zack liked him, and Cloud returned the favor.

Something still nagged at him, though. After a card game with Zack in one of the lounges on the 49th floor one day Cloud questioned, "Mind if I ask you somethin'?"

"Shoot."

"Would it be too weird if I thanked Sephiroth for his help?"

Zack frowned. "For texting me that day?"

"Yeah. If he hadn't…" He trailed off. I wouldn't have met you seemed a bit too mushy, honest as it was. "I just feel like it's hanging. I'd like to speak with him."

Zack regarded him for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Why not. You're a good guy. He'll like it."

It was weird why it felt like he needed Zack's permission to talk to his own superior. The man could certainly take care of himself; Zack did not have to be his guardian. Regardless, the blond felt better about it and two days later during a free period screwed up his courage and paid the General a visit.

In the back of his mind he had been hoping Sephiroth was in a meeting or maybe out on a mission. After knocking however the door slid open with a metallic hiss, access granted from inside.

When he was younger the thought of talking to this man made him dizzy, as struck with hero-worship as he'd been. In time he'd had enough arguments with and spent enough time around high-ranking ShinRa personnel that he did not intimidate easily. Still, he had to swallow a lump in his throat before saluting and saying firmly, "Sir," after seeing the iconic man sitting behind his desk.

His eyes were sharp as they looked him over. His long hair was pulled all over one shoulder; his desk, a plain thing furnished only with a computer and a stack of papers with a pen, looked somehow more fit for a photoshoot than actual work.

Sephiroth spoke and shook Cloud out of his silly thoughts. "Yes?"

Cloud lowered his arm. "Sir. I apologize if you're busy. I'm not sure if you remember me—"

"I remember you," Sephiroth interrupted.

"—Oh. Well. I came to thank you, actually."

The man's unreadable expression morphed into surprise for a brief moment before going flat again.

"You are…welcome, then."

Cloud rubbed the back of his neck and ambled a little closer, some of his old country boy awkwardness leaking out. "Heh. I probably would have laid there all night if you hadn't come along, so I'm grateful."

Sephiroth shook his head at Cloud's thanks like it was making him uncomfortable. "It's Zack you should be thanking. I trust he took care of you well?"

"Yeah, he was a real help. Actually—Zack has been great. He's my friend now. And that's thanks to you, I guess."

Sephiroth shook his head again and Cloud chuckled; his old hero seemed just as awkward as he. That was more amusing than it should have been. The General even cracked a small smile.

"Zack is a good friend. I am glad you two were able to meet." Cloud nodded, and Sephiroth said rather abruptly, "What is your name?"

"Cloud Strife, Sir."

"How old are you?"

Cloud did not cringe. He did not show how ashamed he was to anybody—he couldn't. SOLDIER did not accept weakness. He lifted his chin. "Twenty-one, Sir."

The average age of SOLDIER Thirds was seventeen. To his credit, Sephiroth did not pause. "So you have been at ShinRa for how many years?"

"Five, Sir." And, because he could feel the question coming, added, "I passed the SOLDIER exam on the third try."

"I admire persistence," was Sephiroth's only response, not a jibe or a question about why he tried so hard. Cloud knew that Sephiroth had moved from infantry to SOLDIER First in the least time out of anyone, ever. The man was unreal. "Welcome to SOLDIER, Strife. I regret not being present for this round of exams; I was in Wutai at the time."

"That's alright, Sir."

"And how was your experience with the injection? Not too ill afterward?"

Cloud actually had small talk with the General of his army for a while. Sephiroth clearly had work to do but he did not seem to mind, ignoring it for the moment. It must have been nice speaking with someone a little older and not a hotheaded prodigy fifteen year old.

They talked about Zack again briefly. Sephiroth spoke highly of him and told Cloud a story of another SOLDIER he had asked Zack to care for when he could not.

"The pain of enhancements is something all SOLDIERs experience," Sephiroth sighed, "So we help each other through it."

The General even asked about how his first few weeks as a Third had gone, and he seemed approving of Cloud's progress.

"You earned your spot. Now you need to prove that you continue to belong here."

"Yessir."

The intercom buzzed, and Sephiroth accepted the call, apparently unconcerned with Cloud's presence. "Sir," came a breathy, overwhelmed, androgynous voice, "You're twenty minutes late for your meeting!"

"I am aware. I am now leaving."

With a slight sigh, barely more than an exhale, Sephiroth stood. "My apologies," he murmured.

The man seemed unconcerned that he missed his meeting so Cloud did not waste his breath apologizing for it. They left the office together and walked to the elevator. When they entered the small space all conversation in the elevator ceased; executives and SOLDIERs alike ducked their heads and shuffled to the corners of the elevator in order to give him a wide berth (peering at Sephiroth through their hair and out of the corner of their eyes at the same time). Cloud stilled and glanced at the General, trying to see if he noticed or cared. He evidently did the first but not the second, glancing at Cloud with his reptilian eyes and saying conversationally, like there weren't fifteen eavesdroppers, "The second injection is not as grueling as the first. Your body learns to adapt to the cocktail, but only marginally. You will still be sick and I advise getting someone to look after you, but the sickness will not last as long."

The hair on the back of Cloud's neck was on end but he forced himself to reply cooly, "I see. I heard the first and dosage increases are the worst."

"Indeed." The man's lips twitched as he made eye contact with him. He gave vibes that made him seem aloof and almost untouchable—but the fact that he had been conversing with Cloud this whole time was beginning to tell him something different. "I doubt Zack would be unwilling to assist you."

The blond nodded, a small smile of his own playing at his mouth. Sephiroth got off on a floor above Cloud's and the Third told him as the man walked off, "Enjoy your meeting, Sir."

Sephiroth paused outside the door. He turned his head to glance at him, his gaze as intense as ever. "Thank you, Strife," he murmured, before striding off as the doors shut on his image. The change in atmosphere in the elevator was instantaneous; people came out of their tight huddle. Cloud could tell they were staring at him questioningly. He stood straighter and stared straight ahead. At this point in his career acting cool in awkward or hostile situations was automatic; he'd had enough of ShinRa's various dramas.

"Not interested," he muttered to himself as he eventually got off on his own floor.

He did not see Sephiroth again for a while, but Zack mentioned it in passing. "Seph told me that you came to speak with him," he said one night over burger sliders in Sector 8, "Good job, kid."

"Kid," Cloud said flatly.

"I'm a full three years older than you, kiddo." Zack grinned at him and spent no more time on the topic, deciding instead to treat Cloud to another story of his girlfriend.

Despite not interacting much with, well, anyone else, Cloud was pleased to still be hanging out regularly with Zack. He made the transition to SOLDIER much easier to bear than if Cloud was on his own, that was for sure. The guy scolded him once he realized Cloud was getting into a comfortable rut, however.

"You need more friends," he said disapprovingly, pouting at Cloud over a beer. "I don't mind hanging out with you, duh, but what are you gonna do if I'm not around? I'm givin' you homework. Make a new friend this week."

Cloud sneered, draining half his own beer in one chug, "Not interested."

"Come oooon, Spiky! Friends are easy to make."

"Maybe for you."

Zack groaned and kicked him with his foot but largely left him alone. He even trained with him once or twice, helping Cloud further develop his dual-wielding style. Cloud was interested in larger swords too, but he had to wait some time for his enhancements to help him comfortably use one. His life was unnaturally good. Soon came his first real mission as a SOLDIER, and Cloud took a chopper to Mideel along with two other Thirds and a Second. He was three years older than his peers and one year older than the Second Class. It made him smile to himself, but only for five minutes because he spent the rest of the trip nauseous and grimacing, head out the back window of the truck.

"Yer mako shots'll take care of that in a few months," the Second assured him, concerned. Cloud just grunted in response.

The mission was not that dissimilar from some of his later infantry ones. There was a monster infestation that had gotten out of control too close to a residential area. If anything, this was an opportunity for them to test their skills in real combat for the first time since their SOLDIER exam.

After all his hard work in the gym and on the course in the past month and a half Cloud was feeling great. The monsters were small fry, mostly Guard Hounds and the occasional Foulander. His swords sliced through the beasts, sending them to the Lifestream. One of the other Thirds was a close-combat fighter and they focused on different enemies, nothing being so strong that it required more than one person. The remaining Third supported them with gunfire from deep in the trees (Cloud had delighted in stuffing his old infantry rifle into his closet on day one of his life as a SOLDIER) and the Second Class, who specialized in supportive magic, occasionally cast buffs and a Cure if someone got too scratched up.

Cloud heard an odd shout after taking care of another Foulander. He spun around in time to see his comrade, the Third, take a giant leap back from another monster emerging from the brush—a Grand Horn.

"Shit!" the man cried. Cloud sprinted towards him, spinning on his heel and activating the Assault Twister in the bracer on his wrist to take care of the two Hounds on his heels and flank on the way.

The beast was large, and it was mad, apparently struck by a bullet that had missed a smaller, more agile enemy in the fight beforehand. It roared and advanced on the Third, raising one thick arm, heavy with huge spikes of bone protruding from foul, greenish flesh.

Cloud skidded to a stop, his boots digging into the Mideel mud, and cast a Fira at the thing. He had only learned it the previous week in the materia gym, and it was effective enough to light half the Horn's body in flames. The drastic drop in his MP left Cloud staggering, though; the Horn charged, enraged, and while the other Third rolled out of the way Cloud did not quite make it. The monster swung with its good arm and managed to smack into Cloud's left side, sending him flying sideways into the underbrush.

Unconsciousness lasted under a minute—he was jerked rather abruptly out of it by a Cura cast on him from a distance by his CO. Cloud staggered to his feet, disoriented—and then an Esuna washed over him, curing his confusion.

He returned to the fight to see his comrade assaulting the monster with artillery fire. Between the two of them they distracted the Horn enough so that the other Third could ready his Limit Break—he eventually unleashed a devastating round of blade attacks that finally felled the monster. To be safe, Cloud hit the corpse with another Fire spell.

There were only a few remaining monsters left, and they were dispatched easily enough. When the area was deemed secure the four of them took the long hike back to their truck where their driver had waited and assessed the damage.

"He hit ya hard," the Second murmured, holding out a finger and making Cloud track movement with his eyes.

"Thanks for the backup. And the Cure."

"No problem."

All in all there were some scratches and some remaining dizziness on Cloud's part, but their team was largely unharmed. A Third, the swordsman, offered up his seat in the front for him, saying it would bounce around less and make him less sick. Cloud accepted, a little humbled.

"Nice Fira, by the way," he said as he climbed into the back.

"Nice limit break. You just learn that?"

"Yeah—during the SOLDIER exam, actually. When they brought out the second wave of the Wutai sims in the fourth exercise."

"…I'm sorry," Cloud said after a moment, as the truck rumbled to life and the driver turned in the direction of the site where they would get their chopper home, "I wasn't paying attention when we gave our names earlier."

"Oh. Damian."

"Ellen," piped up the sniper in the back of the truck.

"Kito," said the Second, sounding drained after casting all those spells.

Even the truck driver contributed: "Josh."

"Cloud," the blond offered, rather uncomfortably. His comrades all greeted him kindly enough, perhaps sensing that awkwardness, and they kept up a pleasant stream of conversation all the way to the chopper. To his surprise Cloud found Ellen and Damian were just as ready as he to talk about the new, sweet life of a SOLDIER Third—they discussed new training regimes and such and Kito occasionally laughed and said something to make them dread future examinations.

When they returned to HQ in the very early hours of the morning, around 3am, Kito told Cloud to hit up the infirmary, just in case. "I Cured ya right away but who knows," he said, shrugging, "Never hurts ta get checked out. I'm going to put a form in your mailbox in block E about the mission; just fill out some stuff. Ya did a good job."

Cloud thanked him and headed that way, his feet dragging from exhaustion. There were hardly any people around; ShinRa Tower's hallways were dark and deserted. It was a little unsettling even now, so long after he traversed these halls for the first time.

The infirmary was not empty, however. Troops, both regular army and SOLDIER alike, got injured all the time. Nurses and doctors bustled around and took care of everyone at all hours.

His examination went fine. They shone light into his eyes and did a few cognitive and balance tests. They gave him another potion to be safe and sent him away for some much-needed rest.

"Oh, hold on, Strife," someone called to him as he slipped out the door.

"Some of your paperwork was misfiled." His folder was extremely thick, thicker than most, partly because he had gotten into a lot of fights here in his early days, but also just by virtue of being at ShinRa for so many years already. The nurse handed him three sheets. "These are from your pre-enhancement checkup; the folks down at Science and Research should have these. Just hand them to one of Doctor Hojo's assistants and they'll put them where they need to be."

Papers in hand, yawning every few minutes, Cloud headed down to the labs. This part of the building was even more creepy and quiet than the rest at this hour. The sounds of his boots echoed off the walls, slow and steady, and threatened to send him to sleep upright. He entered the familiar waiting room. There was no one around and it was dark.

Frowning, Cloud moved past this room and into the next. There were doors here that led into various individual examination rooms. Cloud did not see anybody. He glanced into one of the rooms, hoping to see the white labcoat of an assistant or aide—but nothing. He moved down the area, checking each room as he did. He saw the one that he had gotten his own shot in, with the tattered poster of a 'hang in there!' kitten that had provided extremely little comfort as Hojo strapped him in.

It seemed a bit strange, having no one around. Anybody, like him, could have wandered in. Not that anyone would want to—they'd all heard the rumors about Hojo's off-the-clock experiments. Cloud folded his arms in consternation.

He nearly passed on by the next room after glimpsing what was inside. He stopped, took a step back and burst into the room before he was aware he had done it. The lights here were also off and visibility was poor at best, but that was unmistakably—

After flicking the switch Cloud's suspicions were confirmed. Sephiroth was in this room, strapped down to this table. There were no IVs in his veins but his chest was heaving with irregular breaths. He seemed to be unconscious.

"Fuck," Cloud hissed.

Moving on autopilot, he left the room again, turning the lights back off. He ran down the hallway, looking for anyone; he entered into the next area, a flight of stairs down that led into a vast room. Cloud saw some computers, and a few desks for, he assumed, Hojo's assistants. The room stretched onward but Cloud did not get far; rapid footsteps came from an unidentifiable direction before doctor Hojo himself emerged from behind a corner, a clipboard in his hand.

"This area is off-limits!" He yelled, sounding outraged. "What do you want?"

"…Sorry," Cloud said, taken aback. Whatever he was going to say dried up in his mouth; there was no one else around. It was only Hojo here this late—only Hojo and Sephiroth, rather. He straightened his spine. "The infirmary told me to give someone in your department these forms; they were misfiled. Cloud Strife, Sir." He held them out and Hojo took them, clearly disdainful.

"See yourself out," he said simply, sticking the papers underneath the sheaf of whatever he was looking at on the clipboard. Cloud doubted they would find their correct spot but it was hardly a pressing concern at the moment. He calmly turned around and walked out, and once up the stairs with the door firmly shut behind him he ran back to Sephiroth.

It was highly likely this was Hojo's doing. Cloud turned on the light, glancing around for anything that could help. There was no kitten poster in this room.

Sephiroth was still breathing strangely, and still asleep. His teeth clenched every few seconds in pain. Worst of all, he was naked, trapped on the table like some kind of… pet biology project.

"Fuck," Cloud breathed again, moving closer and pressing a hand to his General's forehead. It was sweaty, and he absently swept back his bangs that were stuck to it. "I guess you don't have anyone to come get you either, Sephiroth?"

There was no answer. Cloud took a breath, calming himself down, and then set to work at unstrapping the man's wrists and ankles. The skin on his limbs, particularly his ankles, was reddened, but before his eyes the area was already improving. SOLDIERs were amazing, but now was not the time to admire. Sephiroth started coughing, head turning like he was trying to get something out. Cloud swept his hair out of the way for him and found himself patting the man's cheek, murmuring something encouraging. This man was hardly intimidating asleep and dry-heaving over the edge of a padded table.

"Let's get you out of here," he told Sephiroth, unsure why he was bothering with speech. Maybe the man could hear him.

He looked for a wheelchair but could not find one. He found Sephiroth's clothes crammed into a cabinet under the sink where the doctors sanitized themselves. He tried in vain to slide the skintight leather pants up the General's legs but Sephiroth was damp and twitching, fighting mako sickness. They, the SOLDIER harness and his boots were just too complicated so Cloud left them, instead focusing on the jacket. He pulled Sephiroth's arm through a sleeve of the coat, then eased his upper body off the table so he could get the coat around and to the other arm. When done he rearranged the coat to give the man a small amount of his privacy back. It would have to do.

"Up and at 'em." He hauled the man off the table and over his shoulder. He was heavier than he looked, most of his mass lean muscle—Cloud's knees trembled under the weight but he held steady. As he got older his shoulders broadened and after so many years here he'd managed to put on a sizeable amount of muscle of his own, though since his first injection that had only been easier. This would hardly be easy, however.

With Sephiroth hanging over his shoulder, his hair dragging on the floor and his weight threatening to send Cloud tipping sideways, the blond left the labs. It was just as dark and deserted as it had been when he came; Hojo was nowhere in sight.

As much as the empty halls had squicked him out on the way down he was grateful for them now. Cloud hardly gave half a fuck about what anyone in ShinRa thought about him anymore; he had been 'that guy who tried way too hard' for years now anyway. It would hardly be appropriate for Sephiroth to be seen carried on some Third Class's shoulders in the building, though. He had to shift the man's position quite a few times, his muscles burning, but he eventually staggered into the elevator. In Sephiroth's coat pocket was his wallet with his ID card inside.

He did not stop to think about it or panic. He plowed straight ahead, like he always did, until he reached Sephiroth's door after some trial-and-error. They only encountered one individual, a SOLDIER drunk off his ass, who commented that Sephiroth probably should not be upside-down over Cloud's back like that or he'd get dizzy. Cloud thanked the man and quickly moved on. He eventually scanned them inside, well aware that Sephiroth had gone limp and still somewhere around two minutes ago. The apartment was big and very minimally furnished; there was a couch opposite an empty wall, no television. The couch looked mostly unused.

He dumped his General on top of it, his entire body burning from his feet to his shoulders. Sephiroth looked like a rumpled mess, his face pale and his expression unpleasant despite still being very much asleep. His breathing was regular however and he had stopped his small twitches and spasms. He turned his head, slightly-chapped lips parting naturally, and Cloud was struck by how regal the man looked even here, even now.

Cloud ran a slightly-shaking hand through his hair and looked around at the apartment. "What to do with you…" he murmured. "Zack probably knew what he was doing, yeah?"

The blond concentrated and tried to remember all the things Zack had done to assist him while he was ill from his own shot. He grabbed the kitchen trashcan, changed the bag, and put it near Sephiroth's head. Zack showered him, but that was because he was covered in puke… despite the dry-heaving from earlier Sephiroth had not done so, at least not yet.

Potions. Cloud felt mildly bad about it but rooted around in the apartment until he found some. He only had mega and X potions—for massive wounds someone of a General's caliber was prone to get from high-leveled monsters, he assumed—and tilted Sephiroth's head up with his hand.

"General," he said firmly, blue eyes narrowed. "It's Cloud Strife. I need you to drink this if you can."

At first it did not seem like Sephiroth heard him, but after a moment, to Cloud's surprise, his eyes squinted and one opened minutely. The man's iris was pure green, and so, so painfully bright—the pupil fixed on him for just a moment before sliding up as Sephiroth's long, dainty-looking lashes lowered again. His mouth opened minutely nonetheless.

Cloud tipped the potion into Sephiroth's mouth, a bit at a time, and with great difficulty the man swallowed it down. When the mega-potion was gone Sephiroth's mouth flattened into a firm line and his breathing evened out again. All that seemed to have exhausted him.

That done, Cloud did his best to make Sephiroth comfortable. He put a cool washcloth from the bathroom on his forehead and pulled some sleep pants, of which Sephiroth seemed to have one pair, up his long, pale legs. After a moment of consideration he yanked the man's coat off too—he was sweating buckets and Cloud could only imagine the horror of doing so in constricting leather.

When content that Sephiroth was as set up as he was going to get, he thunked down on the carpet on his ass, utterly exhausted from the past hour on top of his mission. He tipped backwards, his arms spread out on the carpet, and fell asleep almost immediately.

Cloud woke up to a tremendous crash coming from Sephiroth's kitchen. He was on his feet and reaching for his swords before he was fully aware of his surroundings. He tripped over a soft blanket, previously laid over his body, and was doubly disoriented as he realized that his weapons were not on his back—he didn't know where they were, actually.

He entered the kitchen. Sephiroth stood in back of it near an open cabinet. He stared blankly down at five or six broken bowls at his feet, all of them in enough pieces that it probably was not worth it to attempt to glue them back together.

"…Are you alright?"

Sephiroth lifted his head to make eye contact with Cloud. "Yes. Sorry for waking you."

Cloud moseyed further in, rubbing at his eyes. His hair was an utter wreck and he absently patted it back into something resembling its usual styling as he walked closer. "That's okay. I'll help clean it up. Are you feeling better?"

Sephiroth held out a hand and Cloud stopped in his tracks. "We are both barefoot," he said, staring at the mess. "I'll clean it later." He shut the cabinet and padded silently (and a bit clumsily) past Cloud and back into the living room. The blond followed, mystified.

The blanket was in a crumpled pile on the floor, and Cloud picked it up so that his hands would have something to do as Sephiroth flopped rather ungracefully onto the couch. "When did you give me this?"

"Just half an hour ago. I have not been awake long."

"Ah."

Cloud folded the blanket and, unsure if he was welcome to sit on the couch as well, stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at the General, waiting. The man looked at him after a moment. "I was going to eat cereal, but since I dropped the bowls, I cannot. I desire… cheeseburgers. And Wutaian. If you do not have a schedule today, would you like to join me? I suppose I owe you."

Sephiroth closed his eyes after he finished speaking and brought a hand to his forehead. He sighed, his shoulders drooping, his posture less than perfect; Cloud smiled to himself as he realized Sephiroth was ordering hangover food.

"You don't owe me," he said, waving away Sephiroth's thanks like the other had done to him back in the office weeks ago. "I was just doing what you told me. All SOLDIERs experience the pain of injections, so we take care of each other."

"…We do, don't we," Sephiroth murmured. He pulled out his PHS and ignored Cloud as he tapped away at it, and when he was done he stopped squinting, rubbed his eyes, and placed the small device on the armrest of the couch. "The food will arrive shortly. Please, sit." Once Cloud sat he continued, "Thank you for your…assistance last night."

"You're welcome. I apologize if I overstepped my bounds, Sir. I just saw you there and…brought you here, I didn't think."

"I was in no grave danger."

"…Ah." Cloud shifted, uncomfortable. "I thought you were in trouble. I apologize."

"You misunderstand." Sephiroth's head had fallen to the back of the couch and he spoke with his eyes closed, his adam's apple bobbing with his neck in the strange position. "I am not angry with you for your actions. Your concern simply was not necessary."

Cloud's eyebrows furrowed and Sephiroth peeked open a bleary eye to look at him. "I actually…quite appreciate it. Thank you again."

The Third quietly snorted, finally relaxing into the back of the couch and tucking his knees up to his chest, his socked toes digging into the plush cushion. "No offense, but you seem kind of…out of sorts. And that's with the mega-potion I gave you."

Sephiroth actually smiled at that, though it was small and he moved in such a way that his bangs fell into his face to obscure it. "Maybe you are right. There is no doubt I would be in worse shape had I stayed in the labs. Did you find everything you needed easily enough?"

"Yeah. I kind of had to poke around to find your pants and the potion and stuff. Sorry." The General just grunted, and then Cloud added as it came to him, "Oh. About that—I couldn't get your pants, boots or belts on. The rest of your clothes must still be down there. I think I left my swords there as well."

"I was naked when you found me?"

"…Yeah," Cloud said, awkwardly pushing half his face into the back of the couch.

Sephiroth just sighed and glanced down at his long, bony feet. The pajama pants he was wearing were rumpled and lined from his rough night of sleep. It was curious to see Sephiroth looking anything less than perfect, like he had been in the office that one day. Cloud had a feeling this was a unique opportunity indeed.

"Zack left the city yesterday on official business. Usually I rely on him to pick me up after my sessions."

"But it hasn't been two months since your last shot?"

"I go bi-weekly," Sephiroth said darkly, and Cloud resolved to ask no more about it.

Like this was an interrogation Sephiroth asked him, "Why were you in the labs?" Cloud explained, and Sephiroth could evidently find no fault with his reasons for discovering him there in the middle of the night.

Their food arrived quickly, far more quickly than it would have had Cloud been the one ordering, and as Sephiroth had said there were two massive cheeseburgers and a medley of various Wutaian dishes. Cloud stared but Sephiroth flicked off the lid on the tubs of noodles and started spooning half the food onto it for the blond. Cloud wasn't so sure he was hungry but once he took a bite he started digging in with gusto. Sephiroth did the same.

They talked very little as they ate. Cloud relaxed further as time passed, feeling rejuvenated from his post-mission exhaustion. Sephiroth, on the other hand, seemed to do the opposite; as he came back to himself more and more and shook off the cobwebs of chemical sickness he sat straighter and straighter. He combed a hand through his hair to fix it from its attractive mess. He stopped smiling in that tired way of his, where he looked like he was surprised that he had found what Cloud said as funny as he had.

It was curious. Cloud did not comment on it. When the food was almost done Sephiroth seemed recovered enough to talk again—or listen, rather: he eyed Cloud over a forkful of rice and told him, "Talk to me about something. I am not the best at conversation."

Cloud, momentarily stopping to admire Sephiroth's honesty, figured he could be so as well. "Well. Neither am I. There's a reason I'm such shit at making friends." He laughed, soft and slightly self-deprecating. Sephiroth ignored it and prompted him, asking him about joining ShinRa at sixteen.

At first it was weird, talking about this stuff with a stranger. Even with Zack Cloud had only grazed the surface of all of his issues; Zack was nice but a prodigy in his own right. It was awkward talking about his multiple failures with someone like that. Sephiroth, though, was so unbelievably far ahead of everyone else that it seemed silly to compare yourself to that.

In a rambling, roundabout way evident of someone who was not used to talking about themselves, Cloud painted Sephiroth a clumsy picture of himself as a sixteen year old, infantryman in ShinRa's army. Due to his father not being in the picture as he grew up and his mother not being from the area he'd had a rough, isolating childhood. It seemed only natural to stick to that once he got to ShinRa, but when he managed to get his head out of his own ass it was far too late for him to start bonding with the girls and boys in his classes or barracks. He failed the first SOLDIER exam abysmally, being far under the weight requirement. Additionally he failed the psych exam.

That was discouraging, but Cloud had made a promise to the only girl in town who was nice to him occasionally. He would not return to Nibelheim until he was a SOLDIER. Tifa was counting on that.

So he stayed. He kept at it, and two years later he qualified for another SOLDIER exam. He made it farther this time, barely scraping by in his psych eval, but succumbed to the pressure and stress of the three-day wilderness exercise. He needed to be helicoptered out of a valley, poisoned, silenced and confused, to join the large group of other failed recruits.

But the third time was the charm, and, at long last, five years since his arrival, he finally passed the entirety of the exam. "I can be really stubborn," he admitted to his companion.

"That is clear to me," Sephiroth replied. Cloud was unable to resist grinning.

When Cloud's momentum ran out and he was playing at the edge of confessing deep shit because he did not know what else to talk about, he gave up and asked Sephiroth a question. "What do you usually do if Zack is away like he was last night? You just stay there?" When Sephiroth stared blankly straight ahead, not answering, the blond prompted, "There's no one who…?"

"Not anymore. I had two close friends before Zack. We were all on different injection schedules. We could almost always count on at least one of the others to be there if we were sick." Sephiroth paused for a long moment. Cloud could tell there was more coming and remained respectfully quiet. "One is no longer with us, and the other is no longer with ShinRa. Zack is still here, however."

"Yeah," Cloud murmured, "He is. He has your back, Sir."

"Mm."

Sephiroth did not seem to hold anything against Cloud but the blond could tell that his mood was souring. "I am going to shower and then retrieve my clothing," he said, standing, a few minutes later. "What is your apartment number? I will deliver your swords to you."

"You don't have to," Cloud started to say, but Sephiroth, in his usual way, just brushed him off politely. Sephiroth saw him out, not quite rude but not quite friendly, either, and Cloud returned to his apartment, mystified. His body was still sore in places from the mission, though he had gotten some desperately-needed sleep. He took his own shower, then started on another letter home, and soon enough there was a knock on his door. Rick was not around and Cloud was grateful for that; who knew what the guy would think, Sephiroth coming to the door.

"I apologize for my behavior earlier," was the first thing Sephiroth said when Cloud opened up. Then he held out both of Cloud's swords. "The balance is terrible on this one."

"I know," Cloud said quietly as he took them, frowning at the one on top. "I'm saving up for something better. And don't worry about it."

"Talking about my friends is difficult for me. Zack tells me not to…take it out on others." Sephiroth shrugged, or attempted one; the awkward motion he attempted looked a lot more like a jerky dance move of a middle schooler at a dance. Cloud slowly smiled.

"It's really alright. I've done the same."

Sephiroth just nodded and retracted his arm. He was wearing his usual coat, now with his recovered belt, but on his legs were a pair of soft-looking black slacks, whatever he walked down in to go retrieve his things. It looked a bit silly with the imposing leather jacket, though Cloud did not say so.

Before the man could leave Cloud said, serious and looking his superior in the eye, "For next time—if Zack isn't around and you have another appointment. Feel free to contact me. I can pick you up."

Sephiroth's head tilted, that gorgeous hair shifting with the movement. He pursed his lips and stared at Cloud intently as if inspecting him. "…Thank you," he said after a moment, his expression and gaze unreadable. He sounded, however, surprised. "I may do that."

"Good. Here, do you want my number? So you can contact me if you ever need to."

They exchanged numbers, Cloud feeling for a split second like he was in some weird sit-com of his own life. Sephiroth nodded and Cloud bade him an enjoyable rest of his day. Then the door shut and Cloud sat down onto his bed, his swords carelessly placed on the carpet to the side.

His mom wouldn't believe it.

Zack was ecstatic to discover that Sephiroth and Cloud had become, through strange circumstances, something like friends. He jokingly gave Cloud shit for texting the General almost constantly, and Sephiroth griped to him that he got the same treatment. They only met in person twice in the next week or two, once in passing in the hallway and again for breakfast in the cafeteria before a long day of meetings and materia practice, but it was nice to have someone…there, to listen.

Actually, Sephiroth did not talk to much of anybody when he wasn't required to in a meeting, so he was always readily available for a conversation.

I can lift thirty pounds more than I could last week, he would say. The gym smells like a Bat Eye's breath.

Thanks to Zack I am now positive that I abhor pistachio ice cream, Sephiroth would say. Someone in the Silver Elite gifted me a rubber duck for my bathtub. It is actually rather adorable. I might keep it. He confessed that he rather liked how Cloud treated him politely, yet mostly informally—most of the Thirds (and a good number of the Seconds) were still awed by his reputation.

They had danced around a lot of their issues that one morning post-injection but Cloud knew enough about Sephiroth to slowly dig a little deeper, touching on that loneliness after his friends left. Angeal Hewley and Genesis Rhapsodos—Cloud faintly remembered them from his first year at ShinRa. They were once almost as popular as Sephiroth was. He looked it up, to see what happened—most of it was classified, even to him.

Reciprocally Sephiroth knew that Cloud was hung up on his own performance at ShinRa and was very reluctant to talk about his many years in the regular army. The blond acted like he didn't care about his own past, didn't want to talk about it, didn't see how it affected his current time as a Third Class at all. The insecurity was plain for Sephiroth to see.

They weren't close, though. Not really. So Cloud did not pry too hard and Sephiroth kept his distance, unsure how to get more information out of the prickly blond without being ruthlessly direct like he always was. Gentleness was not his forte.

Despite that, slowly, they were coming together. One evening Zack facilitated that a little more by inviting the both of them over for beers, but before Sephiroth got there he sat Cloud down on the couch, folded his arms and gave him a stern look.

"Hey, Spike," he said, twisting his mouth, "I'm super glad you and Seph are tight and all now, but…"

The blond raised his eyebrows, waiting.

"But—at the same time I'm worried about you, you know? You're my little buddy now. I feel responsible for you. For years I've been trying to get Seph to make more friends, but you're not old and crabby like he is. I want you to have someone else here in case he or I aren't around, okay?"

Cloud opened his mouth to respond but Zack cut him off, rambling, "I mean, Seph is a fantastic guy but he's got a shitload of his own issues, y'know? And we're both older than you—there's gotta be some Third Classes you'll get along with. I know you had bullies and stuff when you were real new and stopped trying after that but trust me, Cloudy, you'll be happy you did."

The younger SOLDIER raised a hand, trying to get Zack to shut up, but he kept going: "Every SOLDIER I've ever known who kept to themselves had a rough time of it. We see some shit, you know? And it helps to have a bunch of people around to keep you on the right track. I always said that if Angeal had more than just those two around he never would…"

He finally trailed off after a brief series of knocks at the door. He glanced at Cloud, looking troubled, and went to let Sephiroth in. On one level it touched Cloud's heart greatly, having someone actually care for him like Zack did—but on the other, Gaia, didn't the guy have to take a breath when he was being a mother hen?

Sephiroth did one of his usual smiles when he saw Cloud, one that was almost all in the sudden warmth and softening of his eyes. "Evening," he murmured.

"Evening, Sephiroth."

Zack went into the kitchen to fuss around with food and snacks, and Sephiroth sat on the new couch beside Cloud. It was plush and Sephiroth bounced up a bit on the cushion when he sat down; Cloud found it, strangely, irresistibly cute. He snickered.

"How was your day?"

"Fine," Sephiroth answered automatically. He continued on to a description of whatever routine weapons examinations he had conducted earlier that day. Cloud listened with only one ear; as was true with their texting conversations, it often took Sephiroth some time to relax before he was ready to talk about normal things. Most times Cloud had to listen to quite a bit about military operations before he could find out what Sephiroth had seen that was interesting that day, or what he'd eaten for lunch.

Cloud genially accepted a beer when Zack handed one to him, and twenty minutes later accepted another. There was a correlational relationship between the angle of Sephiroth's spine and the length of time he had been talking about dull ShinRa happenings; before long he was comfortably leaning against the back and finally talking to Zack about some First Class gossip (which Zack kept insisting was just a figment of Cloud's imagination and that, no, higher-ups did not actually gossip about their comrades).

As Cloud downed more and more beers and, eventually, a few shots of Zack's favorite cactuar-brand rum in some soda his angle of attack changed too; a time later he found himself leaning against Sephiroth's side, his cheek very comfortably smooshed against the man's upper arm. Sephiroth did not seem to mind, though. In fact, before long, he jostled Cloud away but just momentarily, so he could wrap that freed arm around the other man's shoulders. The blond was in uniform but his shoulder armor, belt and boots were long gone so he was soft, cuddly, and tipsy.

"You guys are so cute I'm gonna jump off the roof," Zack deadpanned, staring at them.

Cloud could think of no witty thing to say and settled for sneering, but Sephiroth replied, "I wonder if that would succeed in killing you."

"…I don't know. I've fallen from a canon in Cosmo, but that wasn't as high as this place. Who needs this many floors?"

"So many of them are just office space," Cloud griped. "I wish there was more room for gyms."

"Video game rooms. More lounges. A stripclub filled with babes."

"…I wouldn't mind a diner or two," Sephiroth said, sounding as wistful as he could get. "The cafeteria food is occasionally rough on my system."

"Eew, Seph! Don't talk about your nasty ShinRa shits around me."

Cloud laughed and Sephiroth, very uncharacteristically, tossed a nearby pillow at Zack. The pillow was wedged between Cloud's lower back and the couch, which meant that Cloud lost its support and leant further against Sephiroth as a result, but the offensive intent seemed mostly genuine. Zack flipped over the back of the couch to dodge it, straight-out giggled and went into the kitchen again for more food.

"Oh, Zack," Cloud sighed, hiding his own smile into Sephiroth's sleeve.

"…He cares," Sephiroth said blandly.

"Yeah he does. He talks about you so much. He told me that you two weren't always so close…it wasn't until—well, you two needed each other, I suppose." He didn't want to say Angeal or Genesis around either of them; Zack had finally confessed that he had been forced to kill his mentor, Hewley, and that Rhapsodos was still out there somewhere, possibly dead.

Sephiroth slowly nodded. Cloud could not see his face from his position and stared straight ahead at the coffee table instead. There was a magazine with a girl in a swimsuit on it, but there was a coffee ring right over her ass, distorting the image. Zack's distraught face came into his mind's eye.

"He is… a caring person. Despite his own difficulties coping with Angeal's death he was still there for me. I was the one who made him do it because I was too weak to myself. He is an amazing individual for staying with me."

Cloud's hand shifted to lie over Sephiroth's knee. His fingers curled down; the warmth was evident even through the layer of leather he was wearing. The arm around Cloud's shoulder tightened, very briefly, almost imperceptibly.

"Sephiroth," Cloud said quietly, closing his eyes and enjoying the way the room gently orbited around them as he did so. Sephiroth was like that, a big, bright, lonely star in the middle of the cosmos. "I'd like to do that too."

"Do what?"

A lazy wave of his free hand. "Stay. Care."

When Sephiroth did not answer right away Cloud pushed himself up on his arm so he could look him in the face, the General's hand sliding to rest on the nape of his neck as he pulled away. "I would like to think we're friends now. Yeah?"

Slowly, Sephiroth nodded. "Indeed. …Thank you, Cloud."

Cloud debated miming the awkward way Sephiroth had waved away Cloud's thanks when he came to thank him for texting Zack in his office that one time, but ended up just being honest. He slumped back down and rubbed his thumb across Sephiroth's knee in a soothing motion. "You're welcome."

"Careful! This queso is hot as shit!" Zack burst into the room from the kitchen and placed down a bubbling bowl of cheese dip. "Chips, assholes," he said, thrusting a bag into Sephiroth's face. The man accepted stoically and opened it.

"Oh, hey," Zack said a minute later, watching as Cloud held up a chip to Sephiroth's mouth. The General just raised an eyebrow, but then Cloud made the usual dying, whining noise of the shittier ShinRa choppers and he dutifully opened up. "What do you say to hanging out with Seph and I this Friday, Spike? We've got this fancy meeting thing but then we planned on hitting Sector 8."

"Ah, I can't, sorry. I've got plans."

"Plaaans?" Zack pouted.

"I'm seeing a movie with my friends Ellen and Damian. It starts at seven."

The brief look of surprise on Zack's face morphed into outstanding, selfless happiness. "No fuckin' way. I'm proud of you, Cloudy!" Sephiroth smiled approvingly at him and Cloud gave them both a slightly embarrassed smile.

"Speaking of movies, who's down for one right now? I bought this new one two days ago you'll absolutely love, Seph…"

Hojo pressed the ball of cotton to Cloud's arm with as much gentleness as a behemoth. The tape holding it to Cloud's arm was too tight and pulled at his arm hair but the blond hardly noticed it all as he climbed out of the chair, head already fogging with mako.

"You better have a guest this time," he said, already wiping down the chair in preparation for the next Third who was coming in for their injection. "I do not want to see you in my department after hours, do you hear me, boy?"

"Issfine. I gotta guest," Cloud slurred, heading for the door. He pushed out of his tiny examination room, into the next area, and then into the guest room where SOLDIERs were waiting for their turn with the needle.

Cloud kept his cool until he got outside the room. He smiled as normally as he could at Sephiroth, who was waiting for him with his long legs crossed and an outdated fashion magazine on his lap. The attendant told him to be back the next month for his first checkup to see how his body was handling his injections and Cloud nodded in recognition. The General pushed open the door for him and Cloud strode out with his head held high. When the doors shut and there were considerably less eyewitnesses in this lonely hallway in the labs Cloud finally sagged into Sephiroth's chest, his arms winding around the man's chest with enough strength to crack a rib on an unenhanced man.

"Uuugggh," he groaned.

Sephiroth leaned down, though not as far as he used to, and Cloud instinctively tilted his face up. Their lips met in a gentle kiss. Sephiroth's hand carded through his hair soothingly. Cloud tasted like burning planet. "I understand. Come on."

"Your place 'r mine?"

"Mine. Rick is probably throwing up on your bed as I speak."

"Seph, you piecea… gross…don't say that…"

They walked together, Cloud attempting to walk on his own but with Sephiroth stabilizing him without fail each time he wobbled. The ride up the elevator made him want to hurl but when he reached Sephiroth's apartment he was treated to the wonderful, attentive care of one long used to many sorts of treatments, injections and experiments. It was as painless as it could have been, and when Cloud woke the next morning hydrated, clean, barely dizzy, and wrapped up in Sephiroth's arms like the man was trying to leech away his pain for him with contact alone, it became clear that it was so foolish, thinking that he could tackle everything alone.

It was just a shame that it had taken him so long to realize it. Regardless, things were good now. He had small but close group of friends that was hesitantly growing all the time. He had Sephiroth. Best of all he was a SOLDIER Third striving for success; even with so many people in the past telling him he should have dropped out years ago he hadn't yet. Despite the length of time it took things were finally shaping up now, and he could live with that. It was like his mom always told him, from that children's tale—slow and steady won the race, after all.

A very happy birthday to the lovely Boomchick. I hope you enjoyed, darling. :) You are such a cool cat and so ridiculously, unimaginably nice. I am so pleased to be able to write this for you. Thanks for reading!