Far Beyond the End

Author's Note:

Fair warning: sexy times between two male fictional characters will be happening here. Apologies for any weird formatting; it is not consistent across various sites. This is on both AO3 and fanfiction/net.

[12/21/15: fixed some typos. Still looking for a beta.]

Obvious Disclaimer:

I intend no infringement with this work. Characters belong to the creators of Final Fantasy VII. However, creative liberties have been taken with characterization. This disclaimer applies to the entirety of Far Beyond the End. You will not be seeing it again.

FarBeyondtheEnd

How do you step back into a broken world, when you are the one who did the breaking? How do you muster up the courage to save someone who absolutely hates you? How can you apologize for existing and accept forgiveness for a crime that you don't think you deserve forgiveness for?

FarBeyondtheEnd

Sephiroth materialized on the outskirts of a small village a few hundred miles south of the ancient city of Midgar. He was sitting on the edge of a creek, studying his reflection on the water's surface as the afternoon sun beat down on his broad, pale shoulders. With silver hair shorn to the barest inch and green eyes lacking their usual luminescence, he looked very little like the man who had played a large part in the near-ruin of the world.

His typical leather attire was nowhere in sight, and he seemed nothing but miles of milky white skin and corded muscle to the woman who now stood stock-still on the path behind him, thinking that the man was probably harmless but for the madness that lead him to sit naked out in the open.

After all, any sensible person would immediately be inclined to find some cover, surely.

Rhea wasn't sure what to make of the pale man who had burst into existence from what she did not have adequate experience enough to recognize as a cord of broken lifestream. She was a simple woman, a mother with a young child at home and no husband to speak of. She dealt with all the accusations that came with spawning a bastard and did her best to keep those hurtful words from ever reaching her beloved son's ears. She worked far too hard for far too little just to support her small family of two, and while she was used to dealing with the surprises that a young child could dish out, the emergence of a strange man in the middle of the woods from seemingly nothing was just a little too much for her to handle.

Without further ado, she spun on her heel and started walking back towards civilization, deciding that a trip to visit the neighboring city had been a poor idea anyway and that she was not ready to take responsibility for the crazy man mooning over his own pretty face by the water. She was almost fortunate enough to escape his attention, but fate had other plans for Rhea that fine afternoon.

While the woman made what she hoped was a hasty, yet quiet retreat, Sephiroth was experiencing a plethora of emotions as he stared at his reflection on the water.

In the lifestream he had existed as a bundle of compressed energy, a bit like a rock on a riverbed: battered smooth when the waters were high and baking in the warmth of the sun when they weren't. The issue was that he had been the only rock on the riverbed, and the former souls of the living were a never-ending flood of water rushing at him with a constant ferocity. Once truly dead, the lifestream had only accepted the bits of Sephiroth that were not corrupted by the Calamity, and even the little part that made up what he had always been before being corrupted by Jenova was a guilty mess that the Planet and most inhabitants of the lifestream dearly hated.

His only saving grace had been the influence of the Cetra girl: Aerith. For all the time that he had spent in the lifestream, he had never understood her mercy, forgiveness, or clear defiance of the Planet's will as it sought to destroy every last inch of Jenova's son. However, centuries passed, and though the Planet did not forget, it forgave him in smallest intervals, until eventually, Sephiroth mustered the strength to unwind and become something a bit less like a rock. But he did not join the water. Instead he lingered by the side of the Cetra girl and slowly tried to understand why. Not any particular "why", simply the all-encompassing reason for everything that had happened to him, from beginning to far beyond the end.

Even in the folds of death and the madness of rushing lifestream, Jenova's Child and the Ancient became something like friends. Of course, Sephiroth also felt the presence of others that he had known in his life. Zack in particular liked to brush by in the lifestream's endless rush, and would make his presence known by broadcasting his most ridiculous memories from a past long forgotten. Angeal lived in the lifestream, too, and though Sephiroth wasn't altogether fond of his presence after all they had been through, there was something to be said for the man's persistence in vying for Sephiroth's forgiveness. Genesis was not there, as he had been granted some sort of gift from the Planet that's depth Sephiroth could not grasp. All he knew is that the Goddess that Genesis had always longed for had finally answered, and in knowing so, Sephiroth felt faintly proud for his old friend, despite the bitter sting of the betrayal that tore them apart.

In all the strangeness that came with existing in the lifestream, Sephiroth did manage to find himself again. He remembered who he truly was, and that small bit of him that existed without corruption began to shine and thrive. His memories were not stunted, however. Every horror that he had committed, whether in his original body any that came after, were always fresh in his mind, being relived instantaneously with every passing moment. He did not have many happy memories, though the few that he dearly cherished were always wrought in battle and always involved the same person: Cloud.

What started as resentment, was realized as fondness, and grew into something that Sephiroth was hard-pressed to believe himself capable of feeling. He expressed this disbelief to the Cetra girl as that feeling grew unbearably strong, and she gently explained that it had always existed within him, only coming to fruition once he had truly regained the very essence of who he always should have been.

Despite the swell of longing that often filled his heart and danced neatly around the sharp and bloody memories, Sephiroth grew content with his existence in death.

Then, the change happened. It came at a moment when he was lost in a memory of turmoil, drifting quietly and unobtrusively where the Cetra's spirit often dwelled. There was a surge in the lifestream, unlike anything that Sephiroth had ever felt there, and even Aerith had not expected its arrival. Sephiroth was just beginning to recover from the reeling sensation of such a change, when it happened again, far more violently, and the Planet reached into its own lifeblood and grabbed him with invisible fingers and ripped him from the rush.

It had not been pleasant. The sensation of detaching from the intangible state of being that he had been for so long was the most painful thing that Sephiroth had ever experienced, even though he had not possessed a physical form at the time. And then he had emerged as reality folded unto itself on the physical plain and found himself at a stream's edge in the middle of a wood that he knew he couldn't recognize if he tried.

And for the first time in over a thousand years, Sephiroth opened his mouth and let crisp air fill his lungs. He pressed his pale feet into the white sand near the water's edge and stared in wonder as the dark liquid crept past. It took a moment for his mind to kick in, for him to start thinking like a living, breathing human again, to appreciate the warmth of the sun on his bare skin and sensation of his toes sinking in the sand, to comprehend the tranquil silence tempered only by the occasionally scurrying of wildlife in the woods around him.

And finally, to acknowledge how much he had changed. It was interesting to discover that he still had some buried sense of vanity. Sephiroth was nearly as shocked by the absence of his long, silver locks as he was about the whole "being alive" affair in general. His eyes were too dark and certainly nothing so spectacular as they once were. His body was still fairly muscular, but his torso presented a sudden thinness that he was all at once unhappy with.

He appeared frail, even ill, as he took in the changes. Most horrifying of all though, he felt weak. Sephiroth could not fathom weakness in himself. He shifted first left and then right, and was mortified when he stumbled, barely catching his balance. He was just beginning to fall into a panic about the entire situation when he heard the sound of retreating feet.

Caught off-guard by the possible presence of another living being, his eyes sought out the source of the noise and surely enough, a woman could be seen in the distance, walking along a dirt trail that cut through the center of the Wood. Curious and impulsive, Sephiroth made to follow her, not accounting for his state of undress or his sudden appearance, though of course, he did not know that the woman had seem him materialize from essentially thin air and the thought of such a mundane need as clothes had yet to be remembered.

In trailing after her, a good ten yards between them, Sephiroth movements went from something of a clumsy lope to a steadier walk and finally to an even stride that was nearly graceful. He felt the faint burn of activity in his body and the warmth of blood beneath his skin. Even though he had no idea why the Planet had purged him from the lifestream without so much as a warning, Sephiroth found himself smiling, the muscles in his face stretching with unpracticed effort.

He started catching up to the woman, who increased her pace as she heard him approaching.

"Wait!" he tried to say, but his voice came out in a scratchy garble that was utterly humiliating. Fortunately, poor Rhea did not hear his botched attempt at speech, but he did continue to shadow her at a slightly more sedate pace, until she'd had enough of his stalking. Though truly frightened, Rhea stopped in the middle of the path and turned to face him with a stern glare.

"Sir," she said harshly, "why are you following me?"

Sephiroth had already stopped walking, and he cleared his throat before attempting to answer her question: once, twice, three times before it finally took, and he was able to rasp, "I don't know."

This was not a comfort to Rhea, who was having a difficult time keeping her eyes on his face when far more of him was on display that was strictly appropriate, but she did not trust him enough to turn her back on him again.

"Where are your clothes?" was her next question, and Sephiroth finally realized his state of undress, and felt bad enough about it to appear chastised about it.

"Stolen?" he said uncertainly.

Rhea raised a skeptical brow.

Realizing how stupid that sounded, Sephiroth's mind finally clicked into gear, and he hurried to add: "I was swimming in the creek, but I think I slipped and hit my head. When I woke up I was rather confused, and my clothes were gone."

"So you decide to trounce after the first person to happen by without even so much as an explanation. You're really quite suspicious, you know. Are you a Black?"

Utterly confused by that question, Sephiroth chose to ignore it and replied, "I'm still a bit dazed, Ma'am. I apologize if I caused you any distress."

"Indeed," Rhea said sharply, but she dug through the satchel she had slung over her shoulder and pulled out a brown cloak and tossed it to him. Sephiroth caught it easily and tied it around his waist quickly, as it was far too small for him to even attempt to wear the garment properly. At least for now it hid all the important bits.

"Thank you," he said, truly grateful. "I have to admit that I'm a bit lost. Where are we?"

"This is the Narga Forest. The town of Narga is another mile up. Perna is about three miles back."

"Narga? Is that a town?"

"Yes."

"And Perna: another town?"

She was giving him an odd look, to which he quickly added: "I'm really quite new to the area."

"Perna is the capital city," Rhea explained. "Where are you from?"

"Midgar," Sephiroth said, without missing a beat.

"Oh." Rhea said, relaxing slightly. "You're one of that lot then. Must have come from the North. How did you end up in the middle of that forest without passing through the town first?"

Sephiroth gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Well, you don't seem so bad, I guess," she announced. "I'll take you as far as Narga, but then you're on your own. You got a name?"

He opened his mouth to give the standard reply and caught himself just in time. Sephiroth knew that a great deal of time had passed since he had died, a great deal as in centuries at least, but he knew that his real name might cause a stir even now. After all, he hadn't exactly been a saint back then, and the fact that Midgar registered with the woman said a lot about the sort of things that the people of the present would remember.

History was a truly funny thing.

"My name is Seth," Sephiroth finally voiced. Seth was close enough to "Seph" that he thought he could at least stand the moniker. Ah, and there again rose that streak of vanity that he had long since forgotten.

Rhea nodded marginally in acknowledgement and started walking again. Sephiroth followed at a polite distance, matching her step for step. Eventually, the silence got the better of him, and he started the long slew of questions that would lead him to understanding the world he had just been thrust back into.

"What's a Black?"

FarBeyondtheEnd

Cloud pushed his hair over one shoulder. It was getting ridiculously long, he knew. Where his golden dresses were once kept short and spiky, they now dipped down to the base of his spine, all in one glorious golden length. He sighed as he moved to replace the dimming contacts that hid the ceaseless glow of his vibrant blue eyes. With the contacts in, however, that luminescence was smothered down to a very tame dark blue.

No one was privy to the truth of Cloud Strife - not even Neron, the powerful Black who owned half of the city of Perna, despite the Emperor's claim, and whom Cloud lived with as a "kept" White.

Cloud turned before the bathroom mirror, eyeing the complex designs etched into the white garment that clung tightly to his skin. To this day, he still didn't know what possessed him to become a White. The clothes for Whites were always form-fitting and unmistakably feminine, and being a White meant admitting submission to those who dared adorn themselves as Black.

On the streets of Perna, you rarely saw any individual wearing another color. It was Black, or White, or else. And once your position on the matter was established, you would be seen as strictly that. In the ways of this Emperor, they were urged to choose by the age of 16. To those who had been around for the Emperor's take-over, the choice was gradual, but once made: permanent. It was even recorded by the Emperor's book keeper.

Cloud wondered how people would react if he traded the sultry White attire for the black ensemble he kept tucked away in a highly secured storage container across town, along with his complex sword, an assortment of materia [perhaps some of the last in existence], a number of sentimental keepsakes, and an outdated motorcycle. He also wondered how his modern friends would react if Cloud ever revealed the truth of his nature. He was a creature of legend, and an undying one at that.

To the man called Neron, Cloud told a carefully crafted set of lies, the greatest of which was that he had an age-hindering disease that kept him looking young. Neron called this false disease a blessing, and Cloud silently thought him some kind of idiot, but his other modern friends were just as quick to take him up on the lie. Too easily, Cloud conceded that declaration of stupidity and thought them all far too trusting - especially since hardly anything he'd ever told them held an ounce of truth. But Cloud had spent far too long in the dark. Centuries had passed with him living on the outskirts of society, tired and sad and alone and, worst of all, remembering.

His past was a barbed and prickly thing.

Aerith stopped frequenting his dreams centuries ago. His friends had all passed, save for Vincent, who had hidden himself away nearly 500 years ago to escape the monotony of passing time. Cloud, however reluctantly, was a man of action. He couldn't hide himself away, nor could he forget all of the things that had happened over the past thousand years.

He could, on the other hand, allow himself to be a submissive personality for a few decades. After long periods of being alone, Cloud had decided to put himself in a position where he didn't have to care exclusively for himself. It was freeing, in a way, and slightly stemmed the turmoil of things past.

There was a gentle knock on the bathroom door and Cloud forced a smile on his face as he opened it.

"Ready yet, Sky?" Neron asked impatiently.

Cloud stepped out, turning so that Neron could observe the white floral patterns drawn tightly over his form. The piece was a full-body garment that ended in long sleeves tempered by silver bands around Cloud's wrists, making them appear delicate. He wore white boots of soft leather that rose half way up his calves. A pearl dripped from each of his ears and a complicated necklace made of white bone was wound around his neck.

In the beginning, he had found this sort of attire humiliating, but now he took it in stride.

"It will do," Neron voiced, though his dark blue eyes gleamed with appreciation. Cloud smiled and latched onto the other man's arm.

"I thought we'd walk today."

"Sounds nice," Cloud said as they departed Neron's impressive mansion. As they made their way onto the street and people started filtering past, their eyes lingered on Neron as much as Cloud, undoubtedly the most admired White and Black couple in the neighborhood.

Neron was a feast for the eyes to be certain. He was tall and broad shoulder with deeply tanned skin. His hair fell just past his shoulders in feathered layers, and his bangs were tied back to keep them out of his eyes. He walked with the confidence of a man who knew precisely where he stood in grand scheme of things, and he wore Cloud on his sleeve proudly.

Cloud admired the man. He was military, a Lieutenant, and 3rd in line to the Emperor's throne. Neron was certainly clever, though he possessed a keen since of humor that reminded Cloud of long lost friends. Neron knew nothing of Cloud's past, however, nor his real name. Cloud had introduced himself to the man five years ago as Sky Feral and no one had dared question him.

Neron had fallen deeply in love with Cloud almost immediately, and Cloud had liked Neron enough to accept his affections, enough so to eventually permanently register as not only a White, but Neron's White.

Cloud's backstory was carefully contrived. To all who knew him in Perna as Sky, he hailed from a small town to the East, lost his family in a tragic accident, and left to find a better life in the city. There he met Neron and explained that he had an aging disease that prevented him from ever looking any older, though his lifespan was that of any other man's.

The lies came with little guilt now. After all, Cloud had been telling tales for a thousand years, and now did so simply to keep his secret safe, though he still flinched guiltily whenever someone spoke of the Legends of Old or when someone mentioned the Ancient City of Midgar that was now an abandoned ruin partially swallowed up by the sea. The people remembered the tale of the Warrior and The One-Winged Angel, though it had been a few centuries since anyone had spoken the name Shinra or Jenova. Most of the truth had been lost to the passing of time, but the lesson was well remembered.

On the bustling streets of Perna, Cloud and Neron neared the stadium, strolling casually and greeting passers-by with familiarity. They were eventually joined by two other Blacks and their accompanying Whites. The dominant/submissive system had really taken off in the past ten years, especially since the Act of Black and White was passed by the Emperor's council.

Friends in tow, Cloud and Neron found their way into the gates of the stadium, and minutes later took their seats in the private section for the wealthier patrons. As the other Blacks and Whites settled around them, Cloud allowed Neron to put a possessive arm over his shoulders and relaxed marginally as his friends conversed before the show started.

The stadium was open a lot this time of year. It hosted an assortment of events annually, but none were so popular as the sword tournaments. Everyone loved the tournaments. Controlled violence was such a fun source of entertainment, and Neron was particularly a fan. Cloud was often forced to fake enthusiasm for the event, however. Having a sword mastery that far outstretched that of present day fighters often made it difficult for him to enjoy the show as much he would have liked.

Neron himself was a swordsman, but he had forgone participating in the tourneys when his work in the military became more demanding and eventually left him with a skill set that much of the local competition couldn't hope to match. He was a highly respected swordsman in the area, and some even thought him the best in the city. Cloud always wanted to laugh when heard people speak that way about his Black. If only they knew how good a master swordsman could really be, but he supposed it wasn't really his place to say. He was enhanced, after all, and the Planet basically regarded him as a WEAPON now. Cloud didn't even think of himself as human anymore. Any boasts that he might have to make would feel like cheating.

And with that thought, repressed memories tried to force their way to the surface of his mind. Cloud recalled epic battles that toppled cities, and facing down an enemy that he would never, ever forget - an enemy that he often missed so fiercely that he ached.

"What's up, Sky?" said Elda, another White, as she nudged cloud in the side with an elbow. "You're quiet today."

"Thinking is all," Cloud replied gently. "I'm a bit tired."

She tusked, then perked up when trumpets sounded, as did, for that matter, everyone else. Determined to get his mind off of painful memories, Cloud leaned forward in his seat and watched the first two competitors make their way into the arena as the announcer's voice echoed around the stadium and sunlight draped across the structure from the glass ceiling overhead. Another testament to how things had changed, Cloud realized, a glass ceiling would have been a horrible idea back in his day, when SOLDIER'S fought aerial battles because their velocity simply couldn't keep them grounded.

He raised a hand to his shoulder, scarred beneath the expensive with cloth of his outfit, and rubbed it gently as the ghost of pain flourished there. The scars that Sephiroth inflicted never seemed to fade, and the pain was a sharp reminder at why Cloud should be happier that the man was long, long dead.

A sharp clanging reached Cloud's sensitive ears, and he glued his eyes to the fight as the two swordsman attacked each other viciously. The fight lasted for only a few minutes; the fighters' movements were harsh and practiced but utterly unprofessional to Cloud's trained eyes. Anyone with a bit of silver in their pockets and so much as a butcher's knife could enter the tourney nowadays. It was almost disgraceful.

The crowd roared as one opponent fell, the winner's blade pressed to his heart as he lay sprawled on the sand-swept arena floor.

Pitiful, Cloud thought, but aloud he said, "Not bad," and returned Neron's approving smile when it was offered.

For at the moment, Cloud was not Cloud, but Sky: a kept White in the city of Perna with no particular destiny at all.

FarBeyondtheEnd

Sephiroth had been living with Rhea for nearly a month when finally he dreamed of Aerith. The lifestream was a familiar and surprisingly welcome sight to the slumbering Sephiroth, and he nearly allowed his subconscious to surrender to the security that it offered before Aerith appeared and stopped him from slipping into the river of death once more.

"Hello, Sephiroth," said the Cetra girl softly. "How's the land of the living treating you?"

"Awful," he drawled. "I'm weak as a kitten and all of my hair's gone."

Aerith threw back he head and laughed. When her giggling finished, Sephiroth asked, "Have you figured out why the Planet sent me back?"

She nodded. "The Planet senses danger approaching. Things are going to get bad soon, and it fears that Cloud cannot handle things on his own."

"Cloud..." Sephiroth whispered. "I haven't seen him. I'm having a hard enough time adjusting to this White and Black thing."

"He's in Perna," Aerith explained. "Though he's not calling himself Cloud anymore."

"I'm not surprised," Sephiroth admonished. "I'm Seth at the moment."

Aerith nodded. "Cloud is a WEAPON now. He is the Planet's greatest defense: its protector, but he needs help sometimes, and he has grown...complacent as the centuries passed. I fear that he's lonely. He may not realize the danger this time until it is too late."

"That's where I come in?" Sephiroth guessed.

"Yes, the Planet trusts you now, sees you as one of its children. Now that Jenova is gone, you are safe."

"I can't be much help this way, though," Sephiroth pointed out, running a hand through his hair, and pausing when he realized that he appeared in this dream world as he had before, with his glorious silver hair present.

Aerith smiled. "Your strength will return gradually. You were so strong back then, even without Jenova's influence. For the Planet to return to you that much power will take time."

Sephiroth understood. "What is the threat this time?"

"I don't know," the Cetra admitted. "There is simply a feeling of foreboding. The Planet doesn't understand her children as well as you might. She thought you would be the perfect candidate to figure things out."

"I don't think Cloud will be happy to see me."

"He might surprise you. Either way, once your power is regained, you will be as he is: immortal and unable to join the lifestream."

"Okay...but Aerith?"

She tilted her head to one side and offered him an inquiring smile.

"Is there any way that I can get my hair back? I look ridiculous."

She laughed again and patted his head, green eyes bright. "I'll see what I can do."

FarBeyondtheEnd

Sephiroth woke up with a jolt in Rhea's home. He breathed heavily for a moment, before pulling himself out of bed and heading to the small bathroom across the hall. His reflection in the bathroom mirror caught his eye, and he was a little disappointed to see that his hair was still just a slight fuzz across the top of his head. He would have to live with the fact for a while. Aerith worked hard, of this he was sure, but results weren't always instantaneous, not even for the showgirl of the Planet.

Sighing, Sephiroth started his morning routine. He left the bathroom a few minutes later, going to sit in the small kitchen until the sun rose and Rhea finally woke up. Her boy, Jera, was still sleeping in the back room.

"I'm leaving today, Rhea."

She gave him a sleepy look and sighed. "I had a feeling you might soon. Guess I'll have to find another sitter for Jera, eh?"

"Sorry," Sephiroth said shortly, "but I have business in Perna."

Used to his strange antics, Rhea simply shrugged and shuffled around the kitchen to start up the coffee maker.

"You got money?"

"What I've saved from odd jobs around town," he admitted. "It's not much, but it's enough."

She nodded. "Alright. When you get to Perna, you'll have to go register as a Black, before you can do anything."

"I'm grateful for everything you've done for me," Sephiroth said quietly. "I'll return the favor when I'm done there, though I don't know how long that will be."

Rhea turned around and smiled. "I know. You're a good man, Seth, even if you are the idiot who followed me home naked one day in the forest."

He rolled his eyes. "You'll never let me live that one down, will you?"

She smirked. "Nope. So, you want breakfast before you leave?"

"Sure."

FarBeyondtheEnd

It took Sephiroth most of the day to walk to Perna, and another just to cross half of the bustling city to make it to the registry. He registered as a Black, calling himself Seth Valentine (having long since learned the name of his real father) before he walked back out into the busy streets and found himself pausing.

Step two was to find Cloud, but he knew it wouldn't be easy. Perna was easily twice the size of Midgar, and overflowing with people. First, he bought a set of clothes from a thrift store. The all-black ensemble suited him well, and he drew far less attention to himself by dressing in something other than the multi-colored clothes that one of Rhea's male friends had loaned him. He also felt far more at home in the black jeans, black T-shirt, and worn leather boots as he traversed the streets of the city.

He grabbed a cheap meal at a small corner café and made conversation enough to learn that this part of the city was particularly crowded today because of a popular sword tournament that was taking place in the local stadium. If there was any place that Sephiroth knew Cloud would be drawn to, it would involve swords.

It was dark by the time Sephiroth found the stadium, and the ticket masters let him through without a fee since the main events for the day were already over. It also helped that even without his mako-eyes and obvious other amenities, Sephiroth was still a rather intimidating man. His steady gaze and controlled movements kept most people from getting in his way. But not all.

There was a party going in the ritzier lounge area on one side of the stadium, and Sephiroth slid in past the door guards with ease. Most people in the lounge were dressed in black and they conversed enthusiastically at the round tables spread throughout the room. Clustered in a corner were a handful of Whites that Sephiroth paid no mind to. He couldn't imagine Cloud presenting himself as a submissive, so his eyes regarded only the Blacks as he swept them over the room searchingly. When the results came up unsurprisingly negative, he decided to try another approach. Asking the locals seemed the smartest way to find Cloud. After all, the blonde was hard to miss.

Sephiroth slid into an empty chair at a table of Blacks like he belonged there. However, the conversations all immediately dropped and a dark-haired man eyed him speculatively.

"New in town?"

"Yes," Sephiroth said, his powerful voice drawing even more attention than physical presence alone. He slid back in his chair and relaxed visibly, as if to say, I cannot be intimidated by the likes of you. "I'm from Narga."

"I've a cousin in Narga," the dark-haired man drawled, and Sephiroth mentally acknowledged that this man had quite a physical presence alone, not to mention the gall to voice a fact with a tone intending challenge. Cocky bastard. "Bartholomew's the mayor."

"Ah, I know him only by name," Sephiroth admitted. "I'm looking for a friend in this area."

"I tend to know the people's comings and goings," the man said, leaning back in his chair as the others watched the transgression with a mild intensity. Sephiroth wanted to roll his eyes. Blacks, he had noticed, thought themselves superior to Whites. It had given them an air of arrogance that was often frankly undeserved. They were as socially territorial as teenagers. It was revolting, but Sephiroth knew that he had to play along, if he was to ever find Cloud.

"My name is Seth Valentine," Sephiroth offered.

"Neron Dellshire," the man returned, smiling openly, though there was a tilt to his head that threatened authority. "LieutenantDellshire."

How obnoxious, Sephiroth wanted to growl, but said instead: "My friend's name is Cloud Strife." Giving Cloud's real name was a bit of a risk, but from what he had learned for his short time in Narga, the world remembered the Warrior who had brought down the One-Winged Angel, but had likely forgotten his name entirely. Interestingly enough, if you dug far enough in the local computer databases, the name "Sephiroth", however, still spawned some alarming results.

"What a strange name," said Neron, glancing around the table questioningly. "I don't recognize it, nor it seems, do any of my friends, and we're not likely to forget such an unusual name as that."

"Like Sky?" tossed in one of the other Blacks, grinning widely at Neron, who only offered the other man a glare.

"Don't make fun of my White, Hasur. At least I have one, and Sky's the best there is."

"Then maybe you should stop fucking those other Whites behind his back, eh?"

The others broke in with light laughter, and to Sephiroth's disgust, the man named Neron chuckled along with them.

"In that case," Sephiroth said, trying very hard to hide his annoyance, "I think I'll be off."

"As you see it, stranger," Neron said with a grin. "Maybe we'll run into each other again once you've found your Cloud."

Sephiroth nodded and left the table, and was halfway across the room when an all too familiar voice sounded from where he'd just left.

"Who was that, Neron?"

Sephiroth was so shocked that he nearly ran into a server. The man glared at him before tottering off with a tray of drinks. Ducking around a group of Blacks near the door, Sephiroth stepped into an empty corner of the room and let his eyes search out the owner of the familiar voice.

His mouth fell open at what he saw. Cloud Strife looked positively nothing like Sephiroth remembered. The blonde's hair was preposterously long, falling to his lower back in an even length. The style didn't particularly suit him, and his eyes were the wrong color, too, Sephiroth noted, though he supposed that that could be explained away easily enough. Cloud probably wore contacts to hide the mako-glow of his eyes. It was oddly ironic that Sephiroth's hair had been sheered short while Cloud's fell absurdly long, and the ex-General found himself utterly jealous of the other man. What worried Sephiroth even more was the intricate white number that Cloud was wearing. It made him look as dainty and fragile as the female Whites that Sephiroth had seen thus far.

Predators are often pretty,Sephiroth reminded himself, recalling quite a few colorful and gorgeous monsters who had done quite a number on his person in the past.

The worst part of the scenario was the way Cloud had draped himself over Neron's broad shoulders, nuzzling carelessly at the man who (common knowledge dictated) slept around. Sephiroth strained his only marginally enhanced hearing to eavesdrop on the conversation, and frowned even deeper when it was clarified for him that Sephiroth's "Cloud" was now Neron's "Sky".

If fully enhanced, Sephiroth knew he would have already marched back across the room, separated Cloud from the moron, and beat Neron into a bloody pulp. As it stood, the great ex-General was tempted to do that anyway. He highly doubted that Neron could hold his own even against an unenhanced Sephiroth. On the other hand, Cloud would probably terminate him permanently, thus leaving Sephiroth to retreat back to the lifestream and face the Planet's disappointment and (in all likely hood) wrath.

Instead, Sephiroth left the lounge, situated himself near a dark part of the hallway exit, and waited for his ancient enemy and Neron to depart, trying not to think about how seeing Cloud with that moron made his blood boil.

FarBeyondtheEnd

"Who was that?" Cloud asked, laying his forearms on Neron's shoulders.

"Seth," Neron said, reaching over to pull Cloud into his lap. Cloud allowed himself to be pulled. After all, it wasn't every day that he got to use Neron as a makeshift seat, though the eventual erection that pushed suggestively against his ass was utterly unwelcome.

Though it was no longer an uncommon practice, Cloud refused to participate in public displays of intimacy, no matter how much Neron wanted him to.

Neron put his hands on Cloud's hips, occasionally sliding one between the blonde's legs under the shadows folds of the tablecloth. Cloud wiggled at the contact and resisted the urge, as he often did, to show Neron just how submissive he wasn't and that his touches were not always welcome.

"A new Black in the area. He was looking for a friend."

"Who?" Cloud asked, slumping a bit so he could lean his head back on Neron's shoulder. Makeshift pillow, he reminded himself.

"Someone with a name even weirder than yours, Sky," said Hassur.

"Cloud," Neron said, mouth close to Cloud's ear, and he automatically tensed.

"W-what?" he stuttered, eyes widening.

"Cloud. Do you know someone by that name?"

"No," Cloud said after a moment, trying to hide his surprise. "But it is a weird name, isn't it?"

Neron chuckled in his ear and the Blacks carried on their previous conversation. Cloud, however, was a bit panicked. Someone was asking for him? He hadn't really recognized that Black from earlier, though to be honest, he hadn't gotten a good look at him from all the way across the room either. Still...there was only one person alive who knew his real name, and that was Vincent. Maybe Vincent had hired someone to look for Cloud, but he couldn't really imagine the ex-Turk trusting someone else with that information.

If not Vincent, then who?

Cloud pondered over the problem until Neron declared that he'd had enough for the night and they left for home. As Cloud and Neron walked down the darkened streets of Perna, Cloud got a familiar itch between his shoulders. He tried to ignore it, and made small talk with his Black until they got home. However, even then he felt the strange sensation, though he identified it easily.

Someone had followed them home. It was curious that this would happen on the very same night that someone had been asking for Cloud. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

Cloud ushered Neron inside their home with a fake smile, claiming he wanted to walk around the grounds for a bit. In reality, he walked back to the main gates in front of the mansion, crossed his arms, and waited: listening. He stood for nearly ten minutes in the dark, and there was not a single indicator that he had any sort of company. However, that feeling of being watched never once subsided.

Finally, he grew impatient enough to simply say: "Look, whoever you are - I don't know what you want from me, but I don't appreciate being stalked."

No one answered, so Cloud just shrugged and went back inside.

Hidden in some bushes barely three feet from where Cloud had just been standing, Sephiroth let out a relieved sigh. That had been entirely too close.

FarBeyondtheEnd

Sephiroth set up in a coffee mill on the edge of Perna. It was a fair distance from where he now knew Cloud lived and it smelled positively awful, but they offered him a salary and a place to stay for some simple work and Sephiroth wasn't about to pass up the opportunity. He worked nonstop for nearly six weeks straight before he even attempted to see Cloud again.

With enough money saved up, Sephiroth purchased some more clothes and a rather pathetic looking old broadsword from a pawn shop in a shady neighborhood. He had just enough money to get by, plus enough to enter the sword tournament, if he wished.

Since he hadn't swung so much as a stick in the entire time since he'd re-emerged from the lifestream, Sephiroth significantly doubted his prowess with any kind of weapon. His body was noticeably starting to change, as Aerith had promised, but not nearly fast enough for him to confidently march into an arena. He settled instead for joining a shoddy gym close to the coffee mill, and after attempting a basic kata that he performed terribly, Sephiroth estimated that he was probably only slightly stronger than your average idiot.

Extremely disturbed by how weak he was, Sephiroth practically lived at the gym when he wasn't working, practicing the sword and training his body until it started to feel like his own again. He pushed himself enough that his muscles burned away the stiffness that he associated with his untrained form, and there was no time that he wasn't utterly sore from the workouts. At the crux of six weeks, he was starting to scare away the other people in the gym, getting more eager and demonstrative as his strength slowly returned. He was finally kicked out with a small refund as penance: the staff half terrified that he would swear revenge and take them out for doing so.

The sword tournaments were still in full swing, and Sephiroth finally stepped back into the stadium on a clear Saturday afternoon. He got a cheap seat, and though his eyes desperately scoured the hundreds of other fans, he couldn't spot Cloud in the mess of Whites and Blacks, though he expected the blonde was situated somewhere far more appealing than the nosebleed section.

After a month and a half of pining and being generally enraged about Cloud's position on Neron's arm, and about the man being a White, of all things, Sephiroth's temper had finally cooled into mere irritation. But Planet help Neron if he and Sephiroth ever crossed in a dark, empty alley. Unfortunately, that would probably never happen as Sky never seemed to leave the Black's side.

Sephiroth sat stock still in his seat as a cheer went up around him and two armed men faced each other in the arena. What followed was what might have been the most pathetic display of swordsmanship that he had ever witnessed. The ex-General was somewhat embarrassed for the morons thwacking each other with blunted swords in the arena. He vaguely wondered when in the scrawl of history that swordplay had become a joke.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Whites and Blacks of all ages! Next in the arena we have a three-time champion Neron Dellshire facing off against newbie Don King!"

The crowd roared far more enthusiastically than they had thus far, and Sephiroth grimaced as Cloud's Black made his way into the arena. He had heard about this from some of the people at the mill - that Neron was a fighter in the arena, and a good one, but that he had stopped fighting three years ago because he claimed that grew bored of always winning and that he needed to focus on working for the military. How odd that the man chose this day to reappear in the ring.

A trumpet blast set off Neron and Don King into a flurry of clanging metal. Neron was draped from head to toe in pure black leather [much to Sephiroth's annoyance], and his hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that looked positively girlish, but the bulging muscles of his arm dismissed that notion easily. He was obviously a seasoned fighter. He caught openings that many of the previous swordsmen hadn't even been aware of, but...

But by Sephiroth's standards he was positively abysmal. The man carried a gleaming rapier that he gripped improperly, thus kept nearly dropping after powerful swipes from directly above. His footwork was sloppy and his recovery time was downright shameful, but he clearly had the strength to make up for it, and he was a lot faster than his opponent. Neron took the other man out in less than a minute and the crowd went wild.

The victor waved cheerily to the crowd before cockily reseating his blade and disappearing back into the stadium. Sephiroth was fuming as he swept out of the structure only moments later, too peeved to even stick around and watch any more of the fights and positively itching to get his hands on a decent weapon again

How could Cloud possibly put up with someone like that, when the blonde himself could wipe the floor with that pompous asshole blindfolded with both hands tied behind his back? Sephiroth was halfway to Neron's mansion when he realized where he was headed. Cloud was still back at the stadium, he knew, so where was he even going? Getting an idea, Sephiroth ducked into a convenience store, purchased a pen and a small pad of paper, and continued his trek to the mansion.

He had an idea.

FarBeyondtheEnd

Cloud and Neron took the car back to the mansion that evening. Neron, of course, never drove. He had his own personal driver and a car that was expensive and showy. Neron was proudly basking in Cloud's attention, as the blonde murmured sweet nothings into the other man's ear like the good little White that he often pretended to be.

They got home quickly.

"Wait for me in our room, Sky," Neron demanded more than asked.

Cloud, in an agreeable mood, complied by going to their bedroom and stripping off his clothes. He was just turning down the bed, when he noticed a piece of paper sitting on the nightstand.

"That wasn't there this morning," he muttered, moving to retrieve it. The piece of paper was obviously just some cheap stationary, and it was folded in half. The alarming part came when Cloud unfolded it and found his real name scrawled across the top.

Cloud,

You looked better with short hair, and white really doesn't suit you, but that's not important.The Planet needs you to pay more attention.Something bad is on the horizon.Open your eyes.

Yours,

SV.

"Who the hell is SV?" Cloud hissed, as the door handle turned. Startled, Cloud darted across the room and slipped the letter into his top dresser drawer. Neron walked in, regarded Cloud's nudity appreciatively, and then worked his way to the bed. Cloud, ever the obedient White, followed.

FarBeyondtheEnd

Cloud was sitting at his regular table at a local cafe with a fellow White the next day, worrying his bottom lip as he fiddled absently with a steaming mug of tea.

"I'm surprised you're still with him, Sky," Elda was saying. "He really doesn't deserve someone as nice as you."

"Yeah, well. Neron's not that bad," Cloud argued, though his heart really wasn't in it.

Several tables away, Sephiroth eavesdropped behind a lunch menu. He'd been sitting there for 30 minutes, and kept insisting to the waiter that he hadn't made up his mind yet about what he wanted to order. The server was getting irritated with him. Unfortunately for that guy, Sephiroth really, really didn't care. He was far more focused on the conversation that the two Whites were having. It seemed that Sephiroth wasn't the only one who didn't care much for Neron.

"It's because he's your first, isn't it?" Elda was saying. "I mean, honey, he's a catch, but there are far more fish in the sea - better fish."

"He's not my first," Cloud said, looking startled.

Elda froze. She looked as if Cloud's words were some kind of revelation. "What?"

The blonde shrugged and avoided meeting her eyes, but Sephiroth was paying rapt attention, blood boiling under his skin. Who else did he have to fight for Cloud's affections? The man had been alive for a thousand years - there was probably a damn list. Not that Sephiroth expected to have much of a chance with Cloud, mind you. They may both be going to live forever, but Sephiroth was deadly certain that Cloud would run the nearest pointy object through Sephiroth's heart the very moment that the slighter man discovered that his arch enemy once again lived.

"There was a man I knew a long time ago," Cloud said, a distant look in his eyes. "I adored him, but he ended up being a really bad person."

"Oh, honey," was all Elda said, understanding crossing her eyes. "Neron has no idea, does he?"

"No."

"And you still love that first man?"

Cloud glanced up, eyes deceptively dark thanks to the contact lenses, but no less sad for them. He said, "yes."

Sephiroth bristled. It was bad enough that he knew he'd have to deal with Cloud's past affections for a handful of women, but now this? This was so much worse! Sephiroth finally waved the waiter over, ordered a java to go, and departed the café in a huff.

He hadn't even begun to figure out what crazy bad thing was happening to the Planet yet either. As he rounded another street corner, a voice broke through his angry reverie: "Well, well, well. If it isn't Seth Valentine."

Oh this asshole was just asking for it. Sephiroth did his best to look civil as he greeted the speaker: "Neron."

Rhymes with moron, Sephiroth tacked on mentally.

"Care to join me and my buddies? We're going to a party uptown." Neron was indeed surrounded by a group of Blacks, most of which looked half-drunk already. Sephiroth wasn't really in the mood to deal with a bunch of deviants, but he knew that this might be the best way to do some information gathering in the city.

"Sure," Sephiroth said without enthusiasm, and joined their group as they crowded their way into a limousine. Sephiroth stayed relatively silent, watching the others converse until they reached a skyscraper in the middle of the city. Meanwhile, Sephiroth mused over the fact that time changed very little. People and even placeswere still as boring and predictable as they had always been.

It wasn't until they were all situated near the top of the building in a condo full of loud music and drunken idiots, that Sephiroth started to play an old game. He had never been a turk, but he was undeniably a manipulative bastard. The party was Blacks only and more than a few of them were putting on disgusting displays of profanity of various surfaces. Sephiroth found a drunken Black in a corner, smiled seductively and pulled the idiot closer. The other man automatically latched onto Sephiroth's neck and he used that as a cover to overhear one of Neron's conversations with a group of beefy-looking Blacks.

"They've pulled some really interesting stuff from that ruin," one of them was saying, regarding Neron in a suspiciously military fashion. The man speaking stood very nearly at attention. "Midgaris a gold mine of lost technology."

Sephiroth nearly fell over in shock. Midgar? He had heard that the place was a ruin and there was even a small village on the shore nearby that claimed the name of the fallen city. Surely after a thousand years, everything potentially useful had rusted away to dust.

"I know that already," Neron said sharply. "What did they find this time?"

This time? What did they find last time?

"Hard drives in an airtight vault. It's amazing, Sir. Our specialists have actually been able to access the information on them with modern computers."

Sephiroth barely resisted the urge to kill everyone in the room right then and there. He had definitely made a wise move in coming here today. If this new military had access to information from back then, then they potentially had access to things about Cloud and Sephiroth himself. Sephiroth was horrified by the idea that they might know about things like SOLDIER. And what if they found out the truth about Cloud? His protective instincts were reeling.

Neron was sprawled on a chair several feet away from Sephiroth, who wriggled under a clingy drunk's wandering hands and mouth. No one seemed to even notice them. The plan was working perfectly.

"Do tell," Neron purred, "what sort of information did we get?"

"A lot," the other Black said almost gleefully. Sephiroth understood that he was one of Lieutenant Neron's underlings, but aside from Zack, he himself would have never let one of his soldier's get away with such uncomely behavior. Then again, he wouldn't be spouting information about something that was very likely classified at a seedy party.

"The language has changed a bit, but it's still discernable, even to me. There were maps of entire facilities, run by a company or something called Shinra."

Sephiroth practically ached for Masamune at that moment. These fools know about Shinra, yet they had no idea how potentially dangerous that information could be.

Humans are so stupid. Jenova's voice whispered through Sephiroth's mind, and he was horrified for one heart-stopping moment, until he realized that it was only his memory and not the actual thing.

The soldier spouting off secrets was now sitting adjacent to Neron. "We have ancient weapon designs," he continued enthusiastically. "They may be outdated, but they work completely differently than ours do now. They had a formal military and a bunch of technology that we've never even dreamed of. In many ways they completely outstripped us technologically. I think if this Shinra thing still existed, that they could stomp us into the dirt."

Neron rolled his eyes, as if the very idea were ludicrous. "Doubtful," he said.

Sephiroth grimaced. Doubtful? Try with certainty.If such a battle were possible, any modern army would merely have been a bit of bloody filth on some Shinra SOLDIER Third's boots.

"I don't know," said another man, presumably another underling. He looked to be the deferring type, Black or not. "I've seen it, too, sir. Even if their technology couldn't beat ours, their military could. It was the era of the Warrior who defeated the One-Winged Angel, and from what I've seen, their soldiers were biologically enhanced. They were incredibly strong. Impossibly strong."

Neron now looked interested. "Enhanced how?"

"Some kind of chemical solution that they derived from the Planet itself," said one of them.

"And Uncle Reginald knows of this?" Neron wondered.

"Yes, sir. He's known for ages. I have it under good authority that Emperor Reginald has already instated a program to enhance our own soldiers based on the findings in Midgar."

Sephiroth drew in a sharp breath.

"Explains why he wanted to hire so many scientists to work for the city last year. How long until this enhancing thing comes to fruition?"

"A few months. Heard of the Nova project? That's what it really is."

Neron smiled, thanked the two men, and subtly steered the conversation back to normal topics. Sephiroth tossed his half-drunk idiot disguise onto the closest available surface and snuck out of the party without being noticed. He practically raced across town to the coffee mill, locked himself up in his room, and dropped into a chair to think.

"Aerith, I need you," he whispered. "This is far worse than I ever thought it could be. I'm really, really, really going to need my strength back soon."

And I really need to talk to Cloud.

FarBeyondtheEnd

Cloud sat in his regular seat the stadium. Just another day in paradise, he thought with a yawn. The fighters were finishing out prelims today, which always ended with a special event. Usually, they plucked a random person from the crowd, brought that person down to the arena and let that person "fight" with one of the fighters. On several memorable occasions, a grandma, a two-year old, and a dog had been selected.

Today, Neron was going to be the one participating in the event. He would fight the randomly selected person and try to be showy and even humble about it. It was ridiculous, in Cloud's opinion, though admittedly a tad amusing.

The announcer called for the event to begin, and read off a random seat number from the crowd. Cloud more or less heard the commotion as people in that section made a hell of a lot of noise to show their enthusiasm as a tall Black rose from his seat and made his way down to the arena. The man was too far away for Cloud to properly identify him, so he watched and waited with everyone for the play fight to begin.

FarBeyondtheEnd

Sephiroth was a bit stunned when his seat number was crowed into the microphone and suddenly everyone around him was urging him to go down to the arena to take up a sword. He was certain that everyone was expecting him to make a fool of himself, but the ex-General found himself smirking as he made his way down to the arena, because Neron was the fool leading the show today, and Sephiroth was more than happy to have the opportunity to humiliate him in front of hundreds of his admirers.

Including Cloud.

Sephiroth was hustled into the arena and an assortment of swords was laid out on a table before him.

"Well, if it isn't Seth!" Neron said, eyes amused. "Pick your weapon, Seth my friend, and don't worry; I'll go easy on you." The idiot winked.

Sephiroth smiled in a way that he knew could make a hardened fighter's skin crawl, and Neron's friendly façade vanished in an instant.

"You might not want to go easy on me," Sephiroth purred, picking up a katana - the least favored blade in this arena - and checking the balance expertly. He ached for his nodachi, but hadn't seen its like here. The weapon (to most) was deemed entirely too impractical. After clarifying that the katana wasn't a complete piece of junk, he gripped the handle with his left hand and followed Neron out into the center of the arena. The crowd cheered and laughed like it was one great big joke and Sephiroth just couldn't wait to prove them wrong.

He watched Neron drop into his customary (flawed) fighting stance, blade drawn, and Sephiroth unthinkingly fell into his own ready-pose. Smiling a bit, like he thought Sephiroth was a total idiot, Neron moved to the left and Sephiroth, playing along, moved right. They made nearly a complete circle, before the ex-General lost his patience.

And the dance began.

Sephiroth flew across the arena, swiping up, down, and across in almost the same instant. Neron blocked the three blows but wasn't prepared for the fourth. In mere moments Neron was wide-eyed with shock, desperately fighting back, and Sephiroth wore the look of the confident General that he once was.

FarBeyondtheEnd

Cloud's jaw was on the floor and so, apparently, was everyone else's. The stadium had gone dead silent when the randomly selected Black had darted across the arena in a near-blur and started hashing at Neron like a fucking hurricane. Cloud watched as his Black was utterly overwhelmed by this stranger who didn't even appear to be tiring. The blonde snapped his jaw shut, however, and let his eyes widen further still when he noticed that the mystery swordsman had a flawless, scarily familiar technique.

Truly worried, Cloud started counting in his head, matching the stranger's swipes of the sword to a familiar beat.

"Side, swipe, down, back, dodge, sweep," Cloud whispered under his breath, horror budding in his chest. Elda, sitting to his left, grabbed Cloud's arm when he stood up from his seat.

"Sky? What are you doing?" she hissed.

"He's playing with him," Cloud's expert eyes saw. This mystery swordsman fought like a monster, but he was clearly only teasing his opponent, drawing out his careful control for all to see. The only mistakes that Cloud could see were probably invisible to everyone else. This stranger swung his katana too short sometimes, only barely reaching his opponent, but reaching him nonetheless. Like someone who is used to having a far longer reach, Cloud realized. Or perhaps as just an insult, like a cat pawing at mouse before killing it.

Neron went down in two minutes, and by that point, Cloud's heart pounded in his chest, his adrenaline soared, and he was eying the mysterious swordsman with something akin to dawning horror. He tasted bile at the back of his throat, mako-tinged, and his pupils might have been slits for all the electricity that was coursing through his body as the panic (hope) (excitement) set in.

When Neron lost, no one cheered, but a nervous applause followed the victory after a long collective gasp from the audience. The announcer accompanied a cameraman out into the arena to address the victor, as Neron picked himself up from the dirt and slipped back into the stadium. Cloud's eyes were glued to the huge screen mounted over the opposite end of the structure.

When the camera finally focused on the mystery man's face, Cloud fell back into his seat with a gasp, because though he had known it already, it was still a shock to see that face again.

"What is wrong with you?" Elda said worriedly.

Cloud didn't even hear her as the announcer started talking.

"Well, that was certainly unexpected!" he said to the victor, grinning widely. "What's your name, sir?"

"Seth," was the only response he received.

"Anything to say to the crowd today, Seth?"

Cloud watched as the man who had defeated Neron stare at the microphone for a long moment, before decisively saying: "No."

He then promptly turned on his heel and left the utterly befuddled announcer and cameraman to their own devices. As the two moved to fill up the space left by victor's odd departure, Cloud leapt up from his seat and ran inside the stadium walls with Elda shouting worriedly after him. He made it down only one level before colliding into his Black, who looked utterly pissed.

"Neron," Cloud breathed, wanting nothing more than to, for once, ignore him. "Are you...?"

"I'm fine. Where are you going?"

"Um, I was coming to find you," Cloud lied, and now he knew he couldn't present a good reason to keep running. He was just about to bolt, regardless of Neron's opinion, because honestly? Stopping Sephiroth was much more important. He didn't have to do anything, though because Sephiroth himself appeared behind Neron and gave Cloud a familiar smile.

"Good to see you," he purred, and Neron nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise.

He whirled around to scream in Sephiroth's face: "What the everlasting fuck is your problem!"

Sephiroth ignored the question spectacularly, his eyes locked on Cloud and giving the blonde chills. Cloud was so rattled by shock that the only thing he managed to say was this: "What...you...but...your hair?"

Sephiroth's resulting expression was almost comical in its distress.

"I know," he said uncharacteristically. "She told me that it would grow back, but it looks absolutely idiotic, doesn't it?"

Neron looked positively outraged. "Sky...do you know this man?"

Cloud absently nodded, and even Neron noticed that his hands were balled into fists at his sides and that he was completely tense as he stared down the silver-haired Black.

"I'm not here to cause you any strife," Sephiroth explained, stepping around Neron like he was an inanimate object. The ex-General then paused and smirked at the irony of his own words, but Cloud didn't appear to get the joke.

The blonde opened his mouth to speak, but Neron suddenly, violently, stupidly jerked Sephiroth back by the shoulder. Cloud feared very much for Neron's life in that moment. He was so concerned in fact that the words - "Don't kill him!" - fell from his lips before he could think about it.

Neron looked even more furious at that and Sephiroth himself was starting to get irritated. Ignoring Neron once again, he leveled a piercing glare at Cloud and hissed: "Do you remember nothing of what you are?"

The words were enough to make Cloud's brain start turning again. His stance became more aggressive (head ducked, shoulders drawn up, legs spread apart and braced) and he glowered mightily at Sephiroth, and spoke fiercely. The sound was like nothing that Neron had ever heard from the White's mouth.

"I know exactly what I am and who I am, and what that is is absolutely none of your business."

"Seriously? Do you have any idea how shocked I was to learn that you had turned yourself into a White? You?" Sephiroth had the gall to laugh, though his words had been as light and smooth and cutting as ever. The man had a knack for never raising his voice, speaking quietly, and yet still managing to get his point across with a vengeance.

"Why are you here? And how?" Cloud growled, and the sound seemed to register with Neron on a spiritual level, because he completely lost his composure.

"What is going on here!" he shouted angrily.

Sephiroth looked thoughtful for a second, before saying, quite cheerfully, "you're a moron."

Neron looked like he was about to bust a blood-vessel.

Cloud took a threatening step forward. "Leave," he said sternly, regarding Sephiroth.

The ex-General drew himself up to his full height and all traces of amusement vanished from his face. "I cannot. I have a duty to the Planet."

Cloud's resolve actually faltered. "What do you mean youhave a duty to the Planet?"

"It's happening again," Sephiroth said carefully, finally eying the fuming Neron. "We cannot allow it."

Cloud laughed sharply. "How can that be possible? This coming from you?"

Sephiroth stared outright at Neron, and Cloud felt his stomach do something unpleasant. Was Sephiroth implying that Neron had something to do with this?

"I expect we will see each other again soon," Sephiroth said flatly, walking past Cloud, and throwing in, "and I told you, didn't I?" He stopped and spun around, facing Neron and Cloud with a smirk: "I will never be a memory."

FarBeyondtheEnd

As soon as they got home, Neron started yelling, and as soon as they got home, Cloud abandoned all pretense of being submissive. He let Neron shout for a while, but the moment the man reached out to roughly grab Cloud's shoulder, Cloud ripped his hand away and pushed him hard to enough to make the other man stumble across the room.

"It's not my fault that you lost to him," Cloud snapped.

"How do you know him!"

"He's from my hometown," Cloud explained, probably the first truth he had ever told the man.

"Old friends?" Neron said, voice heavy with jealousy.

"Enemies," Cloud snarled angrily. "And a much bigger problem than your inability to take a loss."

"Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you're talking to, Sky? I am your Black! You have to obey me. It's on the contract that you signed when you agreed to be my White."

"I would have to, if Sky Feral was actually my name," Cloud retorted, arms crossed. "And if I actually cared to follow the laws of a crazy old Emperor."

Neron paused, wide-eyed and wondering. "Who the hell are you?"

"It doesn't matter," Cloud said with a sigh. "I'm leaving anyway."

He aimed for the door, walking, but Neron's voice traveled across the room and froze him in place.

"Cloud," the man said in recognition. "You're the man he was looking for back then, aren't you?"

"Yes," Cloud said with conviction.

"Don't leave." The plea was desperate. "I'm sorry...just...wait."

Cloud frowned. He hadn't expected the man to be apologetic. He did declare his undying love for me three years ago, Cloud recalled. He turned, crossing his arms and waiting to hear what the other man had to say.

"You can stay. I'm sorry that I lost my temper. It's just...you're not acting like yourself and I can't stand that man, and I don't know what to do! I feel like I'm losing everything!"

Cloud felt marginally sorry for the guy. He had taken care of Cloud for the past three years, after all. He was a friend.

"Fine - I'll be back by morning." And with that, he slipped out of the house and onto the city streets.

FarBeyondtheEnd

Cloud was having a hard time grasping the obvious. Sephiroth, apparently, worked at a rundown coffee mill on the edge of Perna, had gotten himself kicked of two different gyms for "terrifying the staff and other customers", and everyone in the area thought he was a jerk. It was all a far cry from the super-soldier reputation he had once wielded like armor.

There was a small apartment building next to the coffee mill for local workers, and Cloud was arguing with the receptionist. He had been trying to track down Sephiroth all day, now that his temper had cooled, and was tired of dealing with people who clearly didn't like the man.

"Look, I don't care if you are his friend - I'm not allowed to just give out that kind of information," said the receptionist for the third time.

Cloud sighed. "I already know that he lives here, Ma'am. I just need to talk to him."

She rose a skeptical brow. "You a stalker or a bill collector? Either way, the answer is still no."

"Then how about a compromise? Tell him that Cloud is looking for him."

"Sure," she said with a smile, and looked past Cloud. "Hey, Seth? Cloud here is looking for you."

Cloud turned around and glowered. "I've been arguing here for twenty minutes."

The ex-General smirked. "I know. Follow me?"

Cloud gave the snarky receptionist one last glare before following Sephiroth down the hall to his apartment. Once they were inside and seated on a rather pitiful looking sofa, Cloud began:

"I'm assuming that you have a story to tell me, seeing as you haven't attempted to chop my head off yet."

Sephiroth rolled his eyes. "A few months ago, the Planet purged what remained of me from the lifestream. I only recently discovered the reason why."

"How?"

"Aerith," Sephiroth said carefully.

Cloud sunk a little in the chair, and his eyes grew a little more distant. "You know her? You killed her."

"Yes," Sephiroth admitted, looking guilty. "I did, and trust me, she lectured me about it long enough. I won't lie. I had no conflicts with doing so when I ran her through, but now I do regret it."

"Why?"

"Jenova's influence is a powerful thing Cloud. You have felt it before, but only to a miniscule degree. I am far more susceptible to her inclinations. Not everything that I did was utterly by choice."

"You can't blame Jenova for all that you did," growled the blonde, pushing a wild strand of his ridiculously long hair behind one ear.

"I won't," Sephiroth conceded, "but I am not entirely to blame."

Cloud looked troubled. "With all that happened...you were raised as an experiment, left to Hojo for most of your life, and then thrown into Shinra, and then you were exposed to Jenova. I never blamed you for everything, but you did try to kill me a lot and people who mattered to me. Your actions led to the deaths of so many...you can't expect me to forgive you for that."

"I'm not asking for forgiveness, Cloud. That's not why I am here."

"Then specify!"

Sephiroth straightened and looked Cloud dead in the eyes. "Then I'll explain it to you as it was explained to me. You are a WEAPON now. It is up to you to protect the Planet. I have not fully regained my strength yet, but in time I will, and then Planet will use me as a WEAPON as well, except my job is not to defend the Planet; it is to protect you."

Cloud tried to let the words sink into his brain. "I don't need defending," he said quietly.

"I am aware of that, but the Planet seems to think otherwise, and Aerith agrees."

"Basically, you're going to help me whether I want you to or not?"

Sephiroth smirked. "Exactly, and at the moment, you don't even know what we're up against."

Cloud sighed deeply and massaged his temples, as if nursing a particularly powerful headache. "Tell me."

So Sephiroth did. He relayed the information to Cloud that he had learned at the party for Blacks only. Knowing did not improve Cloud's mood.

"We can't tell them who we are," Sephiroth said finally.

"Planet, no!" Cloud agreed. "But we still have to act."

The ex-General looked thoughtful. "They already have started a program similar to SOLDIER, so we can't steal the information and expect it to be effective. I heard no indications that they harvesting mako to use as a power source, though at this point, it's probably only a matter of time. You can try talking to Neron."

"He won't listen," Cloud admitted. "I know he won't. He'll take me directly to the Emperor if I so much as let on that I know anything about this. He may be a bit of a brat, but he's loyal."

Sephiroth snorted. "As if he could contain you."

"Not without help," Cloud corrected. "I'm not invincible, Sephiroth, and neither are you. It took an army to take out Zack, but it still happened."

"The Planet would revive you."

"If they knew what we really were, we'd become their star projects. They wouldn't kill us. They would use us for their project. It only makes things worse that there are going to be other enhanced running around. This isn't going to be simple"

Sephiroth was thinking rapidly, his precise military brain kicking into gear. "We will have to dismantle this empire and destroy everything that they pulled from Midgar along with everything else that the information was potentially copied to. Also, kill everyone involved."

Cloud laughed humorlessly. "You say that like it's no big deal. Destroying an empire? Wiping out everyone?"

Sephiroth shrugged. "We should also destroy whatever remains of Midgar so this can't happen again."

"Or so they don't get their hands on anything else." Cloud looked really unhappy about all of this.

"There is no other way, Cloud. I don't particularly want to go on a killing spree."

The blonde grimaced. "When will you be back at full strength?"

"I'm probably about half way right now. Another month perhaps?"

He nodded, then stood from the old couch. "I need to show you something."

FarBeyondtheEnd

It was a large high-security storage unit in a less populated part of town. Cloud opened a variety of locks before the huge sliding door finally opened, revealing the mess of old possessions inside. Cloud turned on a light and pulled the door closed behind them.

"Two motorcycles, updated over the years," Cloud explained, "along with as much materia as I could gather, my sword, and a few keepsakes, but nothing damning."

Sephiroth observed the two huge bikes studiously. They looked a lot like the ones he remembered, though nothing like the ones that he had seen in this modern age.

"They're much more maneuverable and hold up to damage better than modern bikes. After all, they not just for transportation. I originally built Fenrir to withstand combat." Cloud explained all of this as he moved to a pile of things in one corner. "I keep First Tsurugi in the bike usually, but...well."

Sephiroth gawked as Cloud pulled forth a very long, thin object, wrapped in cloth. He laid it across the two bikes and offered Sephiroth a grim smile.

"It was hard, finding it, but the mako reactor in Nibelheim eventually did dry up. Couldn't find a trace of your original body, and I don't know how you managed to manifest the same sword in your other ones...but, I kept this."

Sephiroth swept forward, carefully unwinding the black cloth from around Masamune.

"It's made of Damascus steel, but I used materia on it constantly to protect the blade. After all, I wasn't exactly easy on it when I fought. I was constantly worried that it would break in battle."

Cloud inhaled sharply. "I've got some of your old stuff as well. I pulled a lot from the Shinra building after...everything."

Sephiroth gave Cloud a quizzical look, and the blonde dumped a huge bag next to the ancient sword.

"Your customary leather attire," he said bluntly. "All in air-tight bags. I don't know if they're any good anymore."

"You saved my clothes?"

Cloud blushed. "I...yeah. You were...a long time ago, you were my hero, you know? I guess some of that feeling never really left me. So in the end, I found whatever was left of you and put it somewhere safe. I have mementos for all of the people I cared about, and...well, you were one of them."

Sephiroth smiled and then let his eyes sweep meaningfully up and down Cloud's form. "I'm assuming that you still have some of your old clothes hidden away in here? Ready to ditch the white? It really doesn't suit you and..." Sephiroth reached forward and pushed some of Cloud's hair behind his left shoulder. "I really miss your spiky hair."

Cloud was glowing with embarrassment. "I..um...ahem." He cleared his throat and took a step back, almost knocking over a crate in the process. "Not yet. For now I'll keep the White. I'll switch back later when the time comes."

Sephiroth frowned. "What do you mean? What will you be doing between now and then?"

Cloud shrank a little. "Staying with Neron. He's our best source of information."

Sephiroth frowned. "But you didn't find that out until just a few hours ago."

Cloud seemed to collect himself. He stood up straighter, letting some of that old stubbornness shine through. "He's not the best person in the world, but he's not a psychotic murderer either. I owe him for the past few years and-"

"-he cheated on you, treated you like a submissive twit, and acts like a child when he doesn't get his way."

Cloud sighed. "I know, but I...I have to do this, Sephiroth. I don't have anywhere else to go."

"I don't believe that for a second," Sephiroth growled. "For one, you could stay with me, and two - I'm not an idiot. As long as you've been alive, I know that you have a stash of cash hidden somewhere. Not to mention..." Sephiroth gestured around the stuff in the room for emphasis.

"If I leave him now, we'll have half the city turning against us. He's 3rd in line to the throne and everyone is somehow indebted to him."

Sephiroth held up Masamune meaningfully. "I could take care of that easily."

Cloud glowered. "Murder is not the answer, Sephiroth."

Sephiroth's resulting glare was just as impressive. "We've already established who we have to kill, and he is definitely on the top of that list."

"He's a good source of information," Cloud countered.

"For now." Sephiroth sighed and took the point at face value. "I really don't like the guy."

"Why?" Cloud appeared genuinely perplexed. "I mean, I know he was kind of a jerk today, but...he's normally pretty friendly."

Sephiroth stared at Cloud pointedly. "He has what I want."

"What is-? Oh. Oh." Cloud blushed profusely and his crossed his arms. "I...really? When did...why?"

"I noticed you the first time you ever set foot in Shinra, Cloud, and...well, even in the throes of madness, I constantly sought you ought. I constantly teased you in those fights, always pushing you to the brink. Do you have any idea how many opportunities I had to kill you in those battles?"

Cloud shuddered. "I...yeah, I noticed."

"Why do you think you always won? I adored fighting you Cloud. I lived for it. You were my equal in strength, but I was still the General Sephiroth. I won't say that your skill had nothing to do with your victories, but I yearned to fight you. You were the first and only person whom I could truly fight against and hold nothing back. Even under Jenova's influence, I kept ignoring the urge to kill you in favor of having another chance to face you in battle. Nothing has really changed between us. I still want to own you: body and soul."

Chills crawled up Cloud's spine, but he couldn't decide if they were the good or the bad kind.

"When this battle is over...what will happen to you?" he asked.

The ex-General smiled. "I will be here so long as you are. Always."

FarBeyondtheEnd

Neron was at work, dressed to the nines in his daily military uniform with a gun at his hip. He had just learned that he was going to be one of twenty officers who would be injected with the experimental serum that their scientists had derived from information from the Ancient Ruins of Midgar. Though he wasn't keen to be anyone's guinea pig, he reveled at the idea of being enhanced and the fact that he might have a chance to get back at Seth Valentine.

He sat in a room with the technical experts, as they pulled data from the ancient computer hard drives and salvaged it onto the huge monitors on the walls.

"This one's talking about some kind of reactor," one of the female techs was saying. "Engineering plans...and something called mako?"

"I've got something about their military on this one," said another. "It looks like their chain of...holy shit!"

Everyone in the room jumped at her exclamation and crowded around her.

"What is it?" Neron, being the highest ranking officer present, commanded.

"Wait a sec. Let me cross-reference this first...and...aha! Wow, that is crazy."

"Explain!" Neron growled.

The tech turned around in her swivel chair, looking excited. "You know the legend of the Warrior and the One-Winged Angel?"

"Everyone knows that," said an Ensign dismissively. "The angel tried to destroy the world and the warrior stopped him."

"Right, but do you know the angel's name?"

"Sephiroth," Neron recalled easily. He had loved that story as a boy.

"Right!" said the tech. "Well, you're gonna love this. Leading this Shinra military was a man named Sephiroth. No last name listed. He was a General, it says here, when things went to hell."

Excited exclamations went up around the room.

"Other names?" Neron wondered, truly intrigued by the idea that the One-Winged Angel had actually been a part of Shinra.

"Well, there was a president, and a vice president, and heads of different departments in the company. The rest of the army was led by a few Commanders. The rest are listed as simply Firsts, Seconds, and Thirds - whatever that means, and then there was a simple ranking structure for the infantry. They separated the enhanced and the ordinary. And get this: all of the enhanced used swords, while the infantry used guns."

Neron frowned. "That's stupid."

"Not really," said the other tech. "Some of the information that we pulled before suggested that the enhanced were so powerful that bullets didn't always slow them down, and that they were faster to react with swords."

"Faster than guns?" someone gasped. "But that's close combat! It doesn't make sense."

"We won't know for sure until the new serum is tested."

"When will it be ready?" Neron asked no one in general.

"Two weeks," said the Ensign.

He nodded. It really couldn't get there fast enough.

FarBeyondtheEnd

When Neron got home from work, Cloud was sitting in one of the mansion's living rooms, reading a book. Neron stood stock-still in the doorway.

"You're back," he acknowledged, but that wasn't as reassuring as the other elephant in the room. "What did you do to your precious hair?"

Cloud's golden hair was now a mess of gravity defying spikes.

"Felt like a change," was the only answer he offered. He eyed Neron's uniform with a frown. "How was work?"

"Fine."

"Anything interesting happen today?"

"No," Neron lied. He never talked about work to Cloud. "Why are you asking?"

"Curious, I guess." He stood up and stretched. Neron eyed the stretch of skin that appeared when Cloud's shirt rose up from the action. "I've been here all day. I think I'll go out for a bit and see Elda."

"Sure," Neron said with a small nod. "I'm going to relax then. Be careful?"

Cloud smiled, though Neron could tell that his heart wasn't in it.

FarBeyondtheEnd

Two weeks after Sephiroth's talk with Cloud, the ex-General woke up from a dead sleep because he was choking. He sat straight up in bed and panicked for a second, yanking at the wild thing that was wrapped around his neck. It took him a moment to realize precisely what that thing was, and once he did, he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get to the bathroom mirror.

Long locks of silver hair fell down Sephiroth's back, and he let out a grateful sigh when he saw his own green eyes glowing brightly back at him in the mirror. Grinning from ear to ear, Sephiroth retrieved his cell phone and called up Cloud in the middle of the night.

Unfortunately, Neron answered.

"Hello?" the bastard said grumpily into the receiver.

Sephiroth was too thrilled to complain. "I need to speak to Cloud."

"Sky is sleeping," growled Neron. "Why the hell are you calling our house in the middle of the night? He doesn't want to talk to you."

"He said that?"

Neron made an irritated sound that wasn't precisely denial, and was interrupted by Cloud's soft, sleepy voice: "Who's on the phone?"

"Cloud," was all Sephiroth had to say. He knew that Cloud's sensitive ears would pick up his voice even through the phone's speaker. He must have gotten a hold of the phone, because Cloud eventually replied: "What?" as Neron made a fuss in the background.

"I'm ready."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and then Cloud affirmed: "Okay."

"Tomorrow night at the storage unit?"

"Morning," Cloud said shortly, not saying anything else because he knew Neron was listening. "The Lime Café. I'm bringing Neron."

"What? Cloud, no. That's a terrible idea. Why?"

"To make amends," Cloud said simply. "He wants to."

"You have got to be kidding me. Did you forget what we talked about before?"

"No."

"Then..." Sephiroth's voice trailed off as realization struck him. "What's changed?"

"You'll see.'

"I can't though...my hair grew back." Sephiroth sounded slightly proud of the fact.

"What? All of it?"

"Yes."

"Shit."

"Can't you just tell me?"

"No," Cloud said, sounding frustrated. "I can't."

"Is he having you watched?"

"Yes," Cloud said sharply, as if he had been waiting for Sephiroth to realize it.

"That's why you haven't contacted me since-"

"-yes."

"Is that what you needed me to know?"

"Yes but no. It's not all."

"Cloud," Sephiroth almost laughed. Cloud was just so comically frustrated. "The solution here is simple. Dump Neron. You haven't gotten any new information out of him, right?"

"Just the one thing."

"The same thing that you want me to see?"

"Yes."

Sephiroth sighed. "I'll be there, but I'm serious Cloud. Dump him."

"Tomorrow," Cloud said sternly. "I will."

Sephiroth could tell that he wanted to say more, but couldn't. "I'll come tomorrow and see whatever it is that you're panicking over, but I won't approach the two of you. I doubt that idiot will recognize me now. Oh, and fair warning, I'm going to wear my old clothes."

Cloud's audible gasp made Sephiroth grin.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Cloud."

FarBeyondtheEnd

Cloud sat across from Neron at the Lime Café. They took up their usual table outside, both sipping quietly at tea and chatting with their fellow Blacks and Whites, when suddenly there was something of a commotion.

Everyone paused and moved to see what was going on. Cloud's heart nearly stopped at the sight of none other than General Sephiroth as he best remembered him: silver hair shining unnaturally silver and wrapped from head to toe in form-fitting black leather. His eyes weren't glowing thanks to the dimming contacts that he had picked up that morning, and Masamune was, of course, still safely tucked away in storage, but Sephiroth made a striking figure regardless and everyone wanted to know who he was.

Cloud almost laughed at the fact that no one recognized him as Seth, however, Sephiroth was now at full strength, and his mere presence at the café chilled the air. People instinctively pegged him as a predator and kept their distance, even if they didn't realize it. The wait-staff wouldn't even approach the man as he reclined in a café chair, perusing the menu with a mild look of interest.

"Well, what a stir," Neron said, turning back around and rolling his eyes. The other Whites and Blacks at the table chuckled in agreement. Cloud, however, kept his eyes on Sephiroth until the man gave him the slightest nod.

He had seen what Cloud needed him to.

The issue at hand was this: two days ago, Neron had returned home from work with glowing blue eyes, and Cloud had barely resisted the urge to take him out then and there. It was as if, in that moment, the blonde had realized the true danger of the situation at hand.

Now he had no reason to stay.

Cloud rose from their table, saying something about the bathroom, and almost got to escape, but Elda followed him. She joked feebly about the silver-haired man until they reached the restrooms, when Cloud turned on her.

"I'm leaving him," he said simply, and Elda only smiled.

"Finally," she retorted. "You have been rather distant with Neron lately. Got your eye on another Black?"

Cloud's smile was tired. "Yes." He leaned around Elda, still smiling, and waved at Sephiroth, who had quietly followed them inside. Elda's jaw dropped as Cloud slinked forward and wrapped his arm around the other man's. He winked at Elda as the silver-haired man led them out of the café.

FarBeyondtheEnd

Later that same day, Sephiroth and Cloud stood on the cliffs overlooking the ruins of Midgar. Cloud was dressed in all black with a silver wolf design gleaming from the pendant on his chest and the clasps of First Tsurugi's harness situated uniformly across his torso. The sword itself shone brightly in his right hand.

Sephiroth stood at his side, his silver hair blowing in the wind, and Masamune's handle comfortably gripped in his left hand.

They shared a quick look and then dove from the cliff. The next day, Emperor Reginald's archeologists were shocked to see that the city ruins had been leveled.

FarBeyondtheEnd

Neron slammed his hands on the desk and the wood shattered under the force of his blows. He was on the base in usual building, facing his subordinates. "What did you just say?"

His underlings shared worried glances. "We still haven't located your White, and the ruins of Midgar have been destroyed."

"How is that possible?"

"No one knows, sir."

Sky had been missing for three days, and now this?

"What's the Emperor's plan of action?"

"He doesn't really care about the ruins, since we already found the enhancement solution."

"But who could have leveled a city like that?"

"We don't know."

Neron made a frustrated sound. "Fine. We'll worry about it later. How many soldiers are being given the serum?"

"Twenty more in two days."

Neron smirked. "Excellent."

FarBeyondtheEnd

During their research, the techs working under Neron had found, to everyone's amazement, pictures on the old hard drives from Midgar. Neron, a few of his superiors, and a handful of other officers, were crowded into the analysis space to see the results.

With the press of a button, the tech brought up the first image on screen, and everyone in the room gasped at the gray building in the image. It was a skyscraper with the descriptor "Shinra Headquarters" in blue lettering across the entrance doors.

"Next," ordered Neron's Commander, and the second picture appeared, displaying a colorful lobby of what was presumably the inside of the building.

"It's an advert," one of the younger officers stated the obvious.

"Next," the Commander said again.

The next image was of an overweight man in a dandy suit and a taller, thinner man with similar features.

"Bet it's the president," said the tech, "and his son."

"Next."

A rank of soldiers appeared all wearing matching uniforms and helmets with guns slung over their shoulders.

"Infantry," identified the tech.

"Next."

"Is that a canon?"

It did look like a massive canon, reaching far over the city sprawled below. The picture must have been taken from the air.

"Next," said the Commander, sounding a little breathless. The pictures were a historical treasure. It was hard to believe that they were actually seeing images of the ancient city at all.

"Who is that?" someone asked.

Neron's mouth fell open.

On the screen was a silver-haired man holding the longest sword that Neron had ever seen, and he was dressed to the nines in black leather. His green eyes were glowing so fiercely in the image that they looked inhuman. His expression was set into a serious, deadly gaze. Across the bottom of the picture were the words: "General Sephiroth, Hero of Wutai, wants you for Shinra's Army!"

"I've seen him!" gasped one of Neron's men.

"Me, too," admitted someone else. "Is that Seth Valentine?"

Neron's mouth clicked shut. It wasSeth! That must have been him at the Lime Café when Sky had disappeared! What the hell was going on here? Neron turned a mighty glare on the technician. "Is there any possibility that these hard drives were planted?"

She looked uncertain. "They've been verified, sir, by five different experts. They're ancient.. I swear!"

Neron's Commander was frowning. "What about the earlier drives, the ones we found outside of the Shinra building two years ago? Can you pull any images from those?"

She nodded.

"Show us."

It took her a few seconds to bring up the other files, another few to run the program that would make them work again, and then finally, a series of new image files appeared on the screen. She opened the first one, and the room went dead silent.

The picture was of a dark figure suspended above a city of obviously damaged buildings. The sky was a dark swirl of black clouds behind him. Most alarming of all, the silhouette was flanked by one terrible, black wing.

Without being told, the tech clicked through the next few pictures. There were more images of the broken city, which already looked a ruin, a few of a terrifyingly large monster with wings, and finally, clusters of random people.

"The aftermath? WRO?" the Commander read from one of them - people gathered on a stage at some kind of event.

"That's the last of them," the tech said, closing the file, but Neron stopped her.

"You missed one," he noticed.

"It's corrupted. The program won't run it. I can try to correct it, but..."

"Try," ordered the Commander.

Ten minutes later, she made a small sound of victory and brought the last image up on the screen.

Even the Commander recognized the man in the final picture, for sitting on a huge black motorcycle, surrounded by a ragtag group of people, was none other than Neron's missing White.