AN: This is a crossover between Final Fantasy VII and XIII partially written out of boredom/procrastination of more important things, and partially because I recently caught a Final Fantasy bug after reading VarianN's "Terrorism & Anarchy". The idea at its core is one for a complete story, but I guess we'll see if my motivation lasts long enough to actually finish it. I guess if people tell me that it's worth continuing I probably will.

Anyway. Central characters will be Cloud Strife and Lightning. Only the original FFXIII will be considered canon for the purpose of this story, FF XIII-II will be ignored.

"Is that him?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Of course that's him, you idiots. Can't you see the sword?"

"Do you think he'd mind if I asked for an autograph? I've always wanted..."

Selectively ignoring the excited whispers only his sharper than normal hearing allowed him to pick up, Cloud marched on. It was a bright and sunny day at WRO headquarters. So unlike the regular dust storms that still frequently plagued Edge, and so unlike his mood.

Today was the anniversary. It had been three years now since the day everything went wrong.

Though if he really thought about it, things had started to go wrong long before that.

He really should have gotten used to the effects of his ridiculously exaggerated reputation by now. As he was making his way to Reeve Tuesti's office, awed stares and worshipful expressions following him wherever he went, he couldn't help but find some grim amusement in how the rest of the world saw him compared to how he saw himself.

Cloud Strife, the man who saved the world. Cloud Strife, who defeated the infamous Sephiroth not once, but three times. Cloud Strife, who somehow found a cure for Geostigma. Cloud Strife, who stopped Omega Weapon almost on his own. Cloud Strife, the hero.

Not so. In truth, he was Cloud Strife who failed to stop Sephiroth before the worst of the damage was done. Cloud Strife, who had delivered the Black Materia straight into the madman's hands before that. Cloud Strife, who had to be bailed out by a dead friend in the afterlife whom he'd failed to protect, Cloud Strife who had in fact already all but surrendered to Geostigma. Cloud Strife, the... well, he did stop Omega Weapon, he guessed. And more importantly, he had promised not to blame himself.

But the sheer discrepancy between legend and reality was hilarious in its own way. Even so, he couldn't laugh.

When he entered his friend's office, Reeve was already waiting for him. Two shot glasses, and a bottle of hard liquor had been prepared on his desk.

"You're early. Take a seat."

Cloud merely shrugged in response and did so.

"What did they say?" asked Reeve.

"They said... apparently I'm turning into a Cetra." the statement still sounded just as absurd coming from his own lips as it had sounded when he'd first heard it.

"Wait... a Cetra? How is that even possible?" Reeve's thoughts on the issue seemed to mirror his own.

Cloud shrugged – again – and responded. "Beats me. But apparently it's possible. The way Bugenhagen explained it, Cetra aren't actually genetically different from normal humans. Something about parts of the genome that are present in humans, but inactive. And something about what my body is doing to adapt to my absurd Mako levels after Aerith's cure for Geostigma burned out the Jenova cells is activating those genes as a side effect. Bugenhagen also said the process was very slow. I doubt I'll be getting any detailed visions from the planet anytime soon, if ever."

"I see." Reeve replied after a moment of thought. "Well, it's good news in any case. At least now we can be sure that Sephiroth is really gone for good. And good riddance."

Cloud nodded. He could certainly agree with that sentiment.

"So, are you going?" When he only received a confused look in response, Reeve elaborated. "To the place you said the voices are calling you to. If it's really the planet you're hearing, and not Sephiroth or Jenova, it would seem it's not a trap after all."

"I don't know yet." Cloud answered, looking pensive. "If I'm not mistaking what they're saying, I'm needed there. But I don't really understand why."

"You said there was also a warning there. A sense of danger, and the possibility that it might be impossible to find your way back."

"Yeah."

There was a moment of mildly uncomfortable silence.

"Whatever you decide to do Cloud, and I know you don't have much keeping you here, I wanted to say... thanks for everything."

"I didn't do much. The one who found the cure for Geostigma was..."

"Aerith, I know." Reeve cut him off. "And as usual, you're far to harsh with yourself, imagining you have some duty to fix everything. You've done much more than can be expected of anyone already. And if you decide to stay after all, and if you ever find you've had enough of solitude, you know the WRO will always have a place open for you."

"Thanks." was the only reply. But at least Cloud wasn't looking quite as depressed anymore as he usually did on this day.

Again, silence.

"It's been three years." Reeve said after a while, addressing the real reason why Cloud was here today, as he'd been for the last two years. It was a little theatrical, and neither of them remembered how exactly this little ceremony of theirs had started (alcohol had been involved, presumably), but the year after the first they'd still found themselves doing the same thing again. Apparently this year was to be no different.

Reeve opened the liquor bottle and carefully filled the glasses, handing one to Cloud. As he did so, his gaze wandered over the drawer where he kept the old remote control for Cait Sith. After the second Cait Sith had been destroyed, he'd never constructed another one. It just didn't seem right.

"To absent friends." said Cloud, and raised his glass.

"To absent friends. May they find their Promised Land."

Then the last two survivors of the group that had stopped Sephiroth and Meteorfall emptied their glasses and remembered.

Two weeks later, Cloud was standing at the edge of what was left of North Crater, ready to make the descent. He couldn't quite explain why he was doing this, perhaps simple curiosity was all it really was, but he guessed Reeve had been right – he really didn't have anything to sufficiently tie him down here. The possibility of death and/or no way back that the planet whispered of didn't bother him nearly as much as it should have.

Still, he didn't like the fact that he had to return to this particular place to find whatever the planet wanted to show him one bit.

Fusion sword on his back, taking care not to damage the heavy cloak protecting him against the cold, he began the long climb downwards.

It was the first day, and in a place far, far away, two seemingly lifeless crystal statues awoke from stasis to once again return to awareness and the harsh life of a l'Cie.