Notes: I haven't written anything in ages. This is a follow up, side story, kinda sortaish thing to Pipthealmighty's story 'First Encounters: Sephiroth'. Written with her permission and for her. Hope you like it, lady.

Rating: K+

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Slight Romance

…

Whatever Works

His boots made soft sounds against the polished floor but Sephiroth paid them no mind. He dodged a wayward cadet, biting out a remark about training all of the senses and not being a clumsy oaf. If the boy looked startled, or was capable of saying anything, he didn't know.

Some twenty feet later, he made a mental note to apologize to the young man. He usually wasn't so snippy, or rude, but today was the exception.

Two months ago he'd found a short blond, newly promoted to Third Class, crying in a deserted room just hours after the ceremony. SOLDIER was a tight knit group divided into three different kinds of people: those that understood the need to express their feelings, those that didn't feel, and those that were afraid to feel. Sephiroth supposed he fell somewhere in between all of those categories. He knew about emotions, he simply didn't handle his own exceedingly well. However, in a high stress lifestyle like that of a SOLDIER's it was easy to become overwhelmed and steps were taken to ensure that didn't happen.

A breakdown by a normal person was risky enough, let alone one with mako enhancements that could rip a doctors head clean off with a single hand.

Sephiroth shook his head as he rounded the corner to the far end of the Third Class living quarters.

Room 87 came into view and he sighed internally. The hall was empty and for that he was thankful. He paused for a moment, collecting himself and rapped twice on the door. There was a called out request for a minute and, seconds later, the door swung open to reveal the soft blond spikes and blue eyes of Third Class Strife.

"Sir?"

Strife looked understandably surprised and Sephiroth tried not to fidget. "Could I have a word?" he blurted.

Cloud frowned but nodded, waving him into the tiny area.

Thirds lived in single person rooms large enough for a bed, a dresser, possibly a television and a table of some kind. A bathroom with a miniscule shower and toilet were located in the far corner along with a sink and a mirror. Sephiroth remembered his time in one of the rooms only briefly. "I am taking you up on your offer," he stated, coming to stand in the center of the room.

For a moment, he wasn't sure Cloud was going to say anything.

"Offer?"

Sephiroth nodded. "In the past you stated that you would be willing to listen should I ever need to talk. I need to talk."

"Oh! Of course, sir." Cloud moved and sat on the edge of the bed, motioning for him to seat himself as well. "Are you alright?"

He sat with another sigh and suddenly felt much less composed than he had two minutes ago. "No," he muttered, shaking his head. A lock of hair fell forward but he didn't bother to push it back as he usually would. "I did not agree with the terms of my last mission."

Cloud remained silent, presumably waiting for him to continue.

"There was a report of some rebels working from a small village on the southern coast of Wutai. Myself and another SOLDIER were sent to clear out their camp. No one was to be left alive. Search and destroy missions are common within Shin-Ra. It was nothing I had not seen before." Sephiroth paused, when a hand reached out and brushed some of his hair out of his face. Cloud was looking at him, lips pursed in a frown. "The rebels were hiding out in an orphanage."

Cloud's hand froze half way back to his lap. "…did you-"

"There is nothing left," Sephiroth said quickly. He didn't want to hear the disgust in Cloud's voice when he had to ask if he'd killed them all. He had. He'd never paid it much thought until recently which disgusted himself on a very personal level. He dropped his gaze, avoiding the innocent blue eyes before him.

After a long silence, Sephiroth felt a hand land on his shoulder and he jumped, looking up.

Cloud had scooted closer and was leaning far enough in that Sephiroth could see a light dusting of freckles on the pale skin of his face. "It wasn't your fault."

"I killed them."

"You were ordered to."

"I could have said no," he argued.

The same hand was placed over his lips and Sephiroth's eyes widened with surprise. He could feel Cloud shaking. Obviously he wasn't the only one startled by the Third's actions. "You were doing your job. You didn't know there were children there. You have no way of knowing the rebels wouldn't have done the same thing to the orphanage if they thought they'd been compromised. You also have no way of knowing how many of those kids would have grown up to be just like any of those men, killing people that we love. Yes, you could have said no, and no, you didn't. But, maybe, in the future, when the time is right, you will and maybe, you weren't meant to this time."

Finished, Cloud dropped his hand and sat back.

Sephiroth wasn't sure when he decided that Cloud Strife had a rather appealing voice. It was gentle, calming, something he wasn't used to in the slightest. It was refreshing and the honesty was easy to hear, a soft inflection that made it that much easier to believe that, perhaps, things were alright again.

"I don't believe in destiny," he said.

Cloud shrugged, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "Does it matter?"

When Sephiroth shrugged as well, Cloud laughed. "I suppose not."

Nodding Cloud stood and grabbed Sephiroth's hand. "Sir, do you like ice cream?"

Sephiroth cocked his head to the side, glancing down at their locked hands. "Sephiroth," he said, ignoring the question. "My name is Sephiroth."

Cloud blushed and nodded quickly, understanding. "Do you like ice cream, Sephiroth?"

"I do."

"Good," Cloud replied, tugging on his hand until he stood. "Some people train, some people cry," he said with a sheepish smile, "and some people eat ice cream. It's just whatever works best for you, right?"

Chuckling, Sephiroth nodded, letting the Third lead him from the room and out of the building. Ice cream did sound rather good and as he slid his fingers in between Cloud's, he felt warm, safe. Perhaps, the Third was right. It really was whatever worked best for him. And, sitting in a run down little ice cream parlor near the train station, eating a mass of melting sugar with a pink spoon and Cloud Strife sitting right next to him, was, apparently, what worked.

For him.

…

I'vestartedtoomanythingsandhaveyettoactuallyfinishanything.LiketheHalloweenAUficthatneedstobedonebeforethe31st.Hopeyouenjoyed,Pip.