FicWad

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any Square Enix, or J.R.R. Tolkien related indica. (I'm not sure if the latter is necessary or not, but just in case, there it is.)

WARNINGS: Language

Chapter Five
Confessions

Cloud woke with a start. A loud noise had roused him, yet, what exactly, he didn't know. It didn't take long before the sound rushed past him again. He sat up, surprised to find that he was in a large bed with cool black sheets, equally black fluffy pillows, and a gigantic blanket, also black, which must have been lined with chocobo feathers. Angry male voices drifted from the other side of a dark gray door situated directly in front of him.

He recognized Sephiroth's deep commanding voice, but the other, which, for some odd reason, reminded him of a cat, he didn't. He debated on wether he should go to investigate, but decided against it when he thought he heard his name. Surely that was just his imagination, but, just to be safe, he decided to remain where he was. Besides, he still wore nothing but his underwear. He didn't think waltzing into a room occupied by two practically unknown men, who were arguing on top of that, would be wise.

Ignoring the thundering voices from the other room, he further took in his surroundings. The black bed he sat upon lay opposite the door he assumed led to the den where he'd woken last. Another door opened to his left, revealing a bathroom. To his right, he spotted yet another door, most likely a closet. To the left of the closet, he saw an empty sword rack. This interested him greatly. While the orphanage hadn't allowed television, due to the lack of mako energy, he had been allowed to read books by candle light, and read them he did. He'd probably read every book in the miserable dump. Not like that said much, seeing as the orphanage didn't have many books . . . well, interesting ones anyway.

Cloud couldn't stand the flimsy little nonfiction variety, they only succeeded in boring him to death. Fantasy, now that was another story. He loved books about courageous warriors who wielded swords and protected the weak. He loved to read stories about fantastic feats that everyone said couldn't be done. Feats like slaying great dragons. Most of all, he enjoyed stories about unassuming nobodies that start from nothing, and become the greatest known legends of their times, like Frodo from The Lord of the Rings for example. He liked those stories the most because they reminded him of himself.

He'd make a name for himself on this planet someday. He just didn't know how yet. Although, he had to admit, Frodo wouldn't have gotten very far if not for Sam, who kept him strong on their perilous journey. Sam was a great companion to Frodo. Cloud sometimes caught himself wondering if, perhaps, they were more than just friends. Lovers maybe? His heart sank at that thought. He didn't have a Sam, a friend, a lover to guide his way. That's okay. He'd made it through life this far on his own . . . right? He'd do the rest on his own as well. He needed no one.

Why would Sephiroth have an empty sword rack in his bedroom? If it was just for looks, surely there would be a sword in it. On top of that, it seemed too long for just any sword, at least a whole three feet too long. Did Sephiroth wield a sword big enough to fill that space? If so, he hoped he'd get to see it at least just once. Sephiroth did say he was in the military. If he, Cloud, joined ShinRa, would he learn to use a sword too?

He shook his head, disbelieving that he'd even considered accepting Sephiroth's offer. There was nothing on The Planet that could change his mind on that subject. He would never join the military. It was just too dangerous for someone like himself.

He had so many mixed emotions concerning the intimidating white-haired man. Sephiroth had offered more kindness than he'd ever seen out of anyone before. Not that he had to try very hard to exceed that record, but still, why did he even bother? Sephiroth had gone through the trouble to carry him back here and give him mako treatments. He'd even allowed him to sleep in his own bed, even though he hadn't bathed in . . . well, he'd lost count of the days. Five maybe? Too many as far as he was concerned. He didn't smell too bad, but any odor at all was too much odor. He pulled down a lock of blonde hair. It now looked more like dishwater than actual hair.

He supposed he could always just take a quick shower while Sephiroth was busy arguing with . . . whoever it was. Who had the courage to stand up to a man like that? A slim line lay between bravery and stupidity. Maybe the person in question was just an idiot. Did it really matter?

Back to the subject of bathing. Cloud pondered this for longer than necessary. Eventually, he decided against it, not wanting to anger the intimidating man by using his facilities without first asking for his permission.

With that out of the way, his attention wondered back to the voices in the next room. They had quieted a little . . . back into the range of hospitable conversation. This continued for several long minutes, which Cloud filled with thoughts of what they could have been arguing about, especially if he was correct on hearing his own name. Finally, he heard retreating footsteps, and the closing of a door.

What now? He felt no less uncomfortable about striding, in his underwear, into a room occupied by just one unknown man than two. The rattling of a turning doorknob startled him from his thoughts. Cloud had just finished covering himself with the black bedding when Sephiroth slipped into the room with a sigh, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He noticed Cloud watching him and halted his actions, as if he were unsure of what to do next.

Sephiroth had more than a few questions to ask the blonde, but had decided to wait until he'd been fed and bathed. He'd get his answers soon enough.

"The argument woke you?"

"That's okay . . . I'm well rested."

Sephiroth could tell Cloud was curious as to what had went on while he'd been sleeping, so he gave a brief description of the last hour.

"A man from ShinRa, a Turk by the name of Tseng, visited this morning. I'd stupidly left your dagger out in the den and he recognized it from the news update. I told him I'd just found it, which is the truth, but I don't think he'll leave it at that."

Cloud thought this over. A man from ShinRa suspected he could be here. That meant only one thing.

"Then I have to leave here now. If someone suspects I'm here . . . "

"No, you'll stay." Sephiroth's words sounded more like a command than a statement.

"But . . ." Cloud tried to argue. He couldn't stay here. What if the man came back for him?

"Cloud, I hold a high position in ShinRa. If you join, I can likely free you from the hold of the court systems, even if you're guilty."

Cloud starred with disbelief. A high position? Like what? Cloud didn't know, nor did it matter. He couldn't join ShinRa, nor could he tell this man why not. Now he found himself back in the same predicament as the night before.

He was saved by the annoyed snarls of his stomach. Sephiroth stood there for a moment, thinking something over, then spoke.

"Besides, if you leave, you'll die. We'll continue this conversation over lunch."

Lunch? For some reason, that didn't surprise Cloud at all. He'd been sleeping on completely random hours lately, but that aspect wasn't the most important thing on his mind currently. He hadn't eaten in days, and the pains in his stomach wouldn't let him forget it. He was about to stand, but realized he still wore no presentable clothing.

"Your clothes are on the sink." Sephiroth motioned toward the bathroom. "Go clean yourself up." With that, he exited the room, closing the door behind himself.

Cloud stumbled out of the bed, annoyed to find his lack of food had weakened him noticeably, and happy that he'd finally get a chance to wash himself properly. He hated being dirty.

He slowly made his way into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it behind him. He'd never seen anyone's personal bathroom before, only the public restrooms at the orphanage. He remembered having a bathroom in Nibelhiem, but it had been smaller and less furnished. The shower was light blue in color with a white curtain. A rug, which matched the shower in color as close as the human eye could get without being exact, lay in at the shower's edge to keep the floor dry. The toilet matched the shower as well. The walls had been painted a slate-gray color that calmed Cloud slightly.

Cloud studied the knobs on the shower. Back at the orphanage, there had been only one knob, no choice of either hot or cold, just one knob. When turned, all you got was room-temperature water, neither refreshing, nor relaxing, but Sephiroth's shower, now this was different. Cloud decided to turn the one with the red dot on it, assuming red meant hot. He waited a few moments, then tested it with his fingers. Nope, too hot. He added a bit of cold, and stood. Sephiroth had said his clothes were in here.

He looked on the sink, which matched both the shower and the toilet, and there he found his deep blue top and jeans. They had obviously been washed, seeing as they were no longer dingy with dirt and grime. Over the sink hung a tall mirror. He took this as a chance to view his body's recent changes. He frowned. His hair looked dirty, one could barely tell it was blonde anymore, but he'd fix that soon. There were circles under his eyes, most likely from lack of energy. His skin still looked pale, only now, it had a sheet of insufferable filth over it. He couldn't see the dirt, but he could feel it, and he despised it.

Those were just minor details. A shiver traveled down his spine. His eyes still glowed with an eerie blue haze, further enhancing the blue shades of Sephiroth's bathroom. He'd never get used to that. His ribs poked out beneath his flesh so that they were quite obvious, and every muscle on his body was well defined due to his lack of fatty tissues. His arms were still flecked with tiny scars, though they were getting smaller. He supposed that was because of the mako enhancement. The scar on his neck, from where Arlex had cut him the night he'd killed Matthew, was more visible than it should have been, stretching from below his left ear to beneath his right jaw bone. He concluded it stood out so much because it had become infected and, therefore, taken longer to heal.

He noticed a white bandage bound tightly around his wrist. He felt ashamed of the way he'd acted the night before. Not only had he betrayed himself again, but someone had witnessed his pathetic behavior. If Sephiroth had ever had any undeserved respect for him before, it was definitely gone now. Cloud doubted any man of with such an omnipotent aura could ever respect someone else, especially when it was so obvious he was superior to everyone else. Cloud abhorred himself for being so insignificant. He felt inferior around almost everyone he met. Sephiroth exuded an authority that demanded obedience and respect. Yet again, Cloud found himself wondering why a person so powerful, so . . . perfect would even bother with his existence, much less offer kindness and, Gaia forbid, even save his life. The blonde preferred not to dwell on such a confusing subject any extended amount of time. Contemplations of that nature usually made his head hurt.

He didn't fancy showering with the bandage, and he was sure it had healed quickly, just like his arm had, so he began to unwrap the white linen. One lone blood stain on the cloth was the only remaining physical remnant of his breakdown, aside from a nearly invisible scar. He smiled.

I could get /used to healing this fast. /

He checked the water temperature again. It was hot, but not painfully so. He removed his boxers and stepped into the sky-colored shower, relishing the relaxing feel of the soothing water as it traveled down his back, washing away more than five days of irritating filth. He let the steaming water cleanse his flesh until he felt water could no longer combat the grime alone. He found a bottle of shampoo, and took his time lathering his hair. He wanted to make sure it was as clean as any mortal being could accomplish. After he rinsed, he didn't bother conditioning. Instead, he pulled a clean wash cloth from a metal bar on the shower wall, and proceeded to wash every inch of his body thoroughly.

Then, he simply stood there, enjoying the beat of the warm fall of water on his shoulders. He soon found himself lost in thought. His mind traveled back to the orphanage. He remembered how he used to just sit and observe the other orphans, as if he were alien. He'd watch their interactions with one another. He'd watch their facial expressions, their body language. It occurred to him that he could pretty much read someone if he wanted to. He could usually tell what a person was thinking just by watching them. Why didn't that work with Sephiroth? He couldn't decide if he should trust the man or not.

Would he be staying long enough to map out the man's personality completely? He doubted it. The green-eyed man had saved his life, but that didn't mean he wanted Cloud around permanently. Cloud didn't know if he wanted to stay or not anyway. Someone knew he might be here. He couldn't stay.

But Sephiroth said . . . if I join ShinRa . . . he said I could be immunities. I might not have to go to prison. What's worse, prison, or the military?

What if Sephiroth was lying? What if his position in ShinRa wasn't high enough to argue Cloud's case? What /was his position in ShinRa? Cloud had so many questions. The outcome of his future lay on his ability to interpret this man's true intentions. He knew he didn't have long to decide. Sephiroth wouldn't want him hanging around forever. Maybe he should join the military. Maybe there he'd learn how to defend himself without killing his attacker.

Once again, the same question repeated itself in his mind. What if Sephiroth is lying?

He didn't quite know how to feel about the white-haired man just yet. He seemed like the type of person who didn't let himself get close to anyone. He also seemed like the type of person who didn't have many friends. He apparently didn't even want them for that matter. No, maybe Sephiroth did want friends. Maybe he just couldn't get them. Maybe he didn't know how. Well, that made two of them. Cloud would like a friend, Cloud wanted someone he could trust more than anything. The problem was, he just didn't know how to trust, nor did he know how to be a friend himself. He'd spent so many years watching other people communicate, that he'd forgotten to learn the trade.

He sighed. He'd always be alone in this cold world . . . always, and he knew it. He'd resigned himself to a lonely fate, one he'd have to fight like hell to dig himself out of. He was just afraid that was the problem. He was afraid to open up to other people, afraid to voice his own opinion, afraid to trust, afraid to let someone get to now the real Cloud Strife, not just the broken outer shell he displayed to others. Hell, did he even know the real Cloud Strife, or did he just know the twisted puppet that the world's cruelty had molded him into?

He made a mental note to get to know his true self, and to learn how to trust. Hell, what was the worst that could happen? Death? No, rape.

What right does /one bad experience have to control my life? So, a couple of horny dick heads tried to . . . to . . . /

That doesn't matter. That doesn't mean everyone else is out to hurt you. Get that through your head. His inner conscience was actually encouraging him instead of criticizing him? This was new.

That little voice was right. He may have suffered at the hands of others before, but that didn't mean he had to live in fear for the rest of his life. He'd have to open up to someone eventually. Either that, or he could stay in this lonely dark hole he'd dug himself into. Of course, he hadn't dug that hole alone. Several others had helped him. Others like his mother, his father, the entire village of Nibelhiem, the staff of the orphanage, Arlex, Matthew . . . Yes, they'd all helped him dig the pit, and some even had the kindness to plant sharpened stakes in the bottom for him, but none had cared enough to help him out of it. Yes, he would change, and now was as good a time to try than any other.

He decided he might take Sephiroth up on his offer, that is, if he deemed him trustworthy. How long would that take? Days? Weeks? Months? Surely not. Besides, he didn't have that long. He'd have to make his decision quick . . . His body needed mako to live . . . ShinRa had mako . . . Was joining the military and simply taking the risk of being raped worse than death? He already knew the answer to that question. He just didn't want to voice it to himself just yet.
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Sephiroth seated himself in his favorite chair, the recliner across from the sofa, and calmly awaited Cloud's emergence from the bedroom. He knew he'd be waiting for a while, the teen probably hadn't bathed since his escape. Two boxes of Wutanese carry-out sat upon the coffee table between the sofa and himself. He knew their heat-retaining containers would keep them warm while he waited.

He'd intended to wake Cloud earlier, but Tseng's arrival had interrupted his plans. He'd already ordered the food, but it hadn't arrived yet. Tseng had come to discuss the war. He'd said it'd be months before any actual 'action' occurred as far as SOLDIER was concerned. The Turks on the other hand, they were busy fulfilling confidential assignments, missions that mostly involved espionage. He'd always said, 'It's always good to know how cold the water is before you dive in.' It was highly relevant to know the entire situation when going to war. Collecting information before sending out troops was a wise choice.

At least President ShinRa can do /something right. /

At present, the Turks hadn't learned anything of true value. It would seem Wutai was quite adept at keeping their secrets from prying ears. No information had been found on the black-caped warriors who had attacked Zack and himself on their last assignment. In fact, they hadn't even been sighted since that encounter. Tseng said they were believed to be hired mercenaries, nothing more, but Sephiroth knew from experience that no mere mercenary could almost kill a first class SOLDIER. Hell, he'd had trouble fighting them himself, and he was supposed to be the most powerful man alive. Something was definitely amiss. Sephiroth had a bad feeling about this war. A very bad feeling.

Tseng's visit had gone smoothly until the Turk spotted the dagger lying on the side-table. He had picked it up, then examined it closely. This moment was followed by an awkward silence. Sephiroth had been praying Tseng hadn't seen the news broadcast, he wasn't quite ready to reveal Cloud's presence. He'd planned to do that once he'd gathered more information on the boy, but not to the Turks. Hell, the Turks didn't need to know he'd been found until after he'd been cleared of all charges.

The Turks were a very diverse branch of ShinRa. Not only were they spies, but they also did a number of other tasks in the company. They executed the President's personal dirty work. They performed assassinations, and, most important of all, in this case, they doubled as detectives for the Police Agency when a case proved too difficult, or when a criminal could not be located. Sephiroth was positive Tseng had been notified of Cloud's standing, even if his hopes prayed differently.

The silence stretched out until he could stand it no longer. Sephiroth was renowned for his patience and determination, but Tseng's cool wolf-like stare could have melted the tallest, iciest mountain in the Northern Hemisphere.

"I found that in the streets as I was headed to the office a few mornings ago."

Tseng studied him briefly, then spoke.

"This looks familiar. Have you watched any news lately?"

"Yes, actually, I have, and, yes, I know who its original owner is."

"Where did you find it?"

"It was simply lying on the asphalt a couple of blocks east of Headquarters."

Sephiroth had decided not to allay that he'd found it buried hilt-deep in a mako maddened beast's spine.

"In this condition?"

"That's exactly as I found it. I've not tampered with it a bit. A few of my fingerprints may be on the hilt, but that's about it. I intended to turn it over to you on my next working day, but it slipped my mind."

"You and I both know you're not one to forget things Sephiroth."

"I didn't have my coffee that morning. Just ask Zack, I nearly beheaded him with a stapler simply because he wouldn't stop humming some stupid song from a natural male enhancement commercial."

While him had done that before, he hadn't on that particular morning. Actually, he had his coffee that morning. He'd have to make sure that's the story Zack would give Tseng if the Turk indeed did ask him.

Tseng eyed him for a while longer, then tucked the dagger into his suite.

"Then I'm sure you won't mind me taking it with me for examination now, then will you?"

"Of course not," was all he said, but that wasn't what he was thinking. His thoughts sounded a little along the lines of the following.

Go to Hell you miserable son of an incest whore fucker!

What could he say? The dagger was evidence in a murder case. Hell, it was the murder weapon. There was no way he could possibly keep it from the Turks, even if he convinced Tseng to let him keep it. The snake would just send one of his highly trained stealth operatives in to steal it if he didn't take it with him now.

Dammit. Now the Turks had evidence they didn't need, in his opinion. While Sephiroth had cleaned the dagger thoroughly, that didn't mean the mako was gone. Mako's properties allowed it to leave a specific chemical signature on everything that came into contact with it. That chemical signature was very distinct, and, to anyone who operated under ShinRa, easily recognized. It was also the property of mako that allowed the electric charge in the substance, and said electric charge is the culprit for causing the eyes of any living creature who comes into contact with it to glow. The Turks and, soon after, the police would both know Cloud had somehow come into contact with mako. They'd either assume him dead, or continue their search at an even more formidable pace. He didn't even want to risk the latter.

He was unsure if Tseng had believed his lie on not. It didn't matter. Sephiroth's business was his own and, even if the Turks weren't under his jurisdiction, he could easily avoid a search warrant, especially since Tseng had no evidence that stated otherwise. And, as of now, Tseng had no other evidence to go by whatsoever, but that fortunate detail was demolished as soon as he heard a knock at his door. He'd almost forgotten about the food delivery.

Tseng's eyes shifted to the door. "It would seem you have a visitor."

Under any other circumstances, Sephiroth would have politely and formally dismissed himself, as many years of dealing with the 'sophisticated' money hogs of ShinRa's higherarchy had taught him, but not today. Tseng had overstayed his welcome, not that Sephiroth had ever liked the man much anyway. Tseng was the type of man who would turn his own mother in to serve a death penalty. He was a rat, a snake, a spider, a vulture. No, he was a genetic mutation of all of those abhorrable, loathsome creatures combined into one slimy, dripping, contemptible beast. Sephiroth was glad to get away from him, even if it was only a few seconds to answer the door.

He opened his door to a tall gangly redhead with more zits than he cared to count. Was that the Orion constellation? Sephiroth thought he could plot both Canis Major and Minor there too. The boy saluted clumsily, most likely trying to look professional in Sephiroth's eyes. Sephiroth hated suck-ups more than anything, especially pathetic ones such as this.

"Here's your c-carry-out G-g-general Sephir-roth S-sir. It's still nice and hot. That'll b-be 10 g-gil."

Great, the moron stuttered too. Sephiroth often got that reaction from people by simply walking into a room. He couldn't stand it when people got nervous around him, and even more so when he was off duty. One thing that really pissed him off, was when people feinted just because he shook their hand or something. Cloud hadn't even stuttered, he remembered. While the blonde had flinched and avoided eye contact, his speech had been as clear as expected from someone who'd just recovered from a near death experience. Besides, Sephiroth suspected the blonde acted in such a submissive manner around everyone, not just him. He reminded himself that the reason Cloud hadn't stuttered was he was still unaware of his political title.

You just wait. When he finds out who you are, he'll probably wet himself.

He planned to interrogate Cloud when he awoke, in a discrete manner of course. The teen wouldn't even realize he was being questioned. When he had the information he wanted, then he'd enlighten Cloud as to what position he held in ShinRa.

Sephiroth payed the boy the required amount and took the food into his kitchen, but not before Tseng had noticed there were two cartons instead of one. When he returned to the den, the black-haired man eyed him suspiciously.

"You expecting company?"

Shit, now he's questioning my actions. He suspects Cloud could be staying here. That's okay, as long as I don't let him into my bedroom, where he has no business to begin with, I'm fine.

"Just Zack. I'm sure he'll be here any moment," Sephiroth lied.

"Do you mind if I stay for his visit? I haven't spoken to the Lieutenant General in quite some time. I feel he needs to hear my news as well."

"There's no reason for you to stay. I can tell him everything you've told me."

"Yes, but information tends to crumble when passed from one mouth to the next. Perhaps it's best I told him myself."

Sephiroth was trying desperately to reign in his rising anger at the raven-haired Turk. The man had the audacity to impose himself on someone's personal business?

Just keep it casual. He'll have to leave eventually, Zack or no Zack.

"No, that's all right. I've been General for over eight years. I believe I know by now the correct way to give a current situations report."

"Well, yes, that is true, but . . . "

"You will not be staying for Zack's visit, and I will give him the report. "

Sephiroth's patience had finally given out like a dam with a crack in its walls, and unleashed his flood of fury. Tseng had wormed the dagger into his own hands, but Sephiroth would not allow him to succeed in gaining any other clues of Cloud's presence. The blonde had been weakened by lack of food, mako withdrawal, and many other injuries. Cloud wouldn't survive long behind bars, that was for certain, and as long as the blonde resided under his roof, he'd never see so much as a court date, much less a prison cell. In order to achieve this, Tseng had to be dealt with. The fox had to be eliminated before it reached the chicken coupe.

"That's because Zack is coming isn't it?!"

Tseng had risen to his feet in an attempt to further the effect of his point, but Sephiroth had none of it. The white-haired man rose to his feet as well and stood a full four inches taller than the Turk.

"It is none of your business who's coming to visit me, you slimy bastard. I'm an independent man Tseng. If it pleases me, I can have the Emperor of Wutai over for tea and crumpets."

"Not quite. Nor is it legal to withhold information on the whereabouts of criminals. To be more specific, it is against the law to protect murderers such as Cloud Strife from receiving a punishment he deserves. You wouldn't be protecting him so if you saw the victim's body. Strife slit his gut wide open and left him to bleed to death. The other victim has barely spoken a word since. He's been traumatized for life. There's no way you simply found this dagger because a wanted criminal wouldn't just leave their weapon behind to be found by the authorities. And I think you need to know, I met the Lieutenant General on my way here. He said he was going on a date, and, seeing as he's straight, as far as my knowledge extends, I doubt his date would be you."

Sephiroth's mind had flinched in shame when Tseng had brought up the boy Cloud had been accused of killing. And why wouldn't the other one talk? He'd almost convinced himself that Cloud could never murder someone in cold blood. Then images of the slain pit bull, almost three times the boy's size, loomed into his mind's eye, the white-handled dagger protruding from a bloody wound in its spine. Cloud had done that in self defense, yes, but it proved he could kill. It proved he knew how. He'd been hoping against his reasonings that Cloud was innocent. He kept hoping a mistake had been made, but, deep down, he knew the blonde had done it, but why? Cloud was too young to simply kill someone for no reason. He hadn't been that screwed up in the head, had he? He remembered the blonde figure clutching a knife in his kitchen floor, dragging the serrated blade across his own veins. If he could kill himself, could he kill another?

But he didn't kill himself. How do I know he'd have gone all the way?

Sephiroth combated himself in his own mind as his body went into autopilot. He remembered small snippets of his argument with Tseng, but couldn't recall anything he'd said. Instead, he'd been preoccupied with the task of understanding this broken blonde enigma that had suddenly fallen into his life. He couldn't bring himself to believe Cloud had committed such a crime for no reason. Sephiroth had accepted that the blonde had killed the boy, but why? Cloud had attempted taking his own life because he'd been stricken by a sudden bolt of fear. Fear of what? Maybe he'd killed Matthew because he was afraid. Afraid for his life? Afraid of something else? What else?

He'd been hoping he could still convince the blonde to join the military. There was no other way to provide him with the necessary mako treatments. Sephiroth couldn't continue to swipe them from the lab, Hojo, the presiding scientist, would notice eventualy. He'd also concluded that, judging by his reactions to mako, Cloud would one day make a fine asset to the combative side of ShinRa. Maybe he'd even make an officer rank, but none of this could happen until the issue of his actions had been sorted out.

Sephiroth suddenly found himself closing the door on a very red-faced Tseng. What had his enraged self told the Turk? Oh well, that wasn't important at the moment. The object of their quarrel had most likely been woken by their raised voices. He remembered the boy's ribs poking through his shrunken abdomen, killer or not, he still needed food to live.

He'd found the blonde awake, pleased to see that he could operate on his own. Most victims of mako withdrawal, especially from exposure to contaminated mako, found themselves marginally weaker during recovery. Sephiroth was certain the impure substance hadn't worked out of Cloud's system yet. He'd have to give him another injection later.

Now, here he sat, awaiting Cloud's emergence from the bedroom. The blonde should be walking through the door any moment now. He planned to wait until Cloud had dug into his meal a good bit, then begin his questioning. He didn't want to begin until the teen got a decent amount of food down, seeing as he may catch on and put the carry-out aside, which wouldn't be good, considering his state of health.

Sephiroth was positive Cloud had lost even more weight during the few days he'd had him. The first three days, when Cloud lay on his sofa unconscious and feverish, he had been sure the blonde wouldn't make it. His temperature had fluctuated between extremities, going up as high as one hundred and six degrees Fahrenheit, then down to ninety-one or sometimes lower. He'd sweated profusely, and constantly shook with lethargy. Sephiroth knew he'd been in great pain as well. He would flinch and moan often, and tossed and turned like a headless snake.

Sephiroth, not wanting to wake up with a dead body in his den, had stayed awake all three days, monitoring Cloud's progress, even if there was nothing that could be done. If Cloud's body wanted to give in to the mako, nothing could stop it. The thick green liquid was a force all its own, and no mortal could sway its effects. Surprisingly, he hadn't seen any seen hide nor hair of Zack ever since he'd found Cloud. Tseng had said he was going on a date. Zack always stayed away when he was preoccupied by a girl.

How long will this one last?

Cloud had finally stopped showing outward signs of pain, although Sephiroth was unsure if his sudden quietness could be attributed to recovery, or the first signs of death. His temperature had finally regulated, then he'd stopped having symptoms altogether. It looked as if he were merely asleep.

Sephiroth had been recalling how close Cloud had come to death, when said blonde walked timidly into the den. He glanced once at Sephiroth and then lowered his gaze, as if afraid the white-haired man would be offended by a simple act such as being looked upon. Why did he think himself so inferior? Cloud seated himself across from Sephiroth on the sofa, keeping his eyes averted.

Sephiroth briefly found himself staring at Cloud's newly cleaned hair. All of the color and splendor it had lost had fully returned. It hadn't dried completely yet, causing it to stick to his neck, creating a serene effect. Sephiroth tried to catch the boy's eye, but the blonde wouldn't even look up.

What did that place do to him? It's as if he's been beaten all his life.

Sephiroth's heart clenched at that thought. If it were true, it meant Cloud was afraid of him, afraid he'd hurt him. That thought stung deeply. He didn't want such a seemingly hurt creature to fear him for what others had done. He only wanted to help.

But, for me to help him, he has to trust me . . . He doesn't seem like the type to open up to /anyone, much less a complete stranger. /

I've got to try. Without my help, he'll end up behind bars . . . or dead.

Sephiroth cleared his throat, preparing to ask the questions that had been haunting his thoughts for days, hoping he'd get answers.

"Cloud?"

The blonde shivered as if he'd just been ordered a death sentence. His blue eyes flitted to his face then down in a submissive manner.

Sephiroth felt Cloud's eyes return to him warily as he reached to the table and picked up a box of carry-out.

"I know you're hungry . . . you may be able to hide your past from me, but your body won't let you hide that. " He offered the food in as unthreatening a manner as he could muster.

Cloud eyed his had, then slowly reached forward and grasped the box. He worked the lid open and sniffed the still warm noodles inside. Sephiroth pushed a fork over to him.

"I thought you'd want this instead of chopsticks."

Cloud retrieved the fork and began to eat cautiously, like a deer in a meadow, glancing up at Sephiroth between bites as though conducting routine checks for predators. Though he did seem to be enjoying the first meal he'd had in Gaia knows how long. Who wouldn't?

Sephiroth took notice of the thin white scar on circling Cloud's neck. The teen had been so pale before, that he'd never noticed it, but now that he warm and his complection had begun to return, the scar stood out noticeably. Sephiroth couldn't help but wonder where it had come from. It had the look of a mark left by a blade. Who had done it, when, and why? Matthew perhaps?

Sephiroth waited for a few minutes, eating his own food with chopsticks. The outcome of this conversation would determine Cloud's fate. Sephiroth wanted to draft him into SOLDIER, where he'd have all of the mako treatments he'd ever need. Sephiroth was also confident that Cloud would quickly rise through the ranks, seeing as his body reacted so strongly to mako. He looked to the blonde across from him. He wanted so much for the boy to join the military, at least he'd be off the streets there. He didn't know why . . . he'd sleep easier knowing Cloud was safely, but, in order for his yearnings to come true, he had to know the teen's story . . . all of it . . . and, more important, the darker details, such as what had happened that night Matthew was killed. Finally, he'd decided to speak.

"You know, with my occupation, I've killed my fair share of people, but legally mind you." He observed Cloud's reaction. The blonde's eating had slowed and he'd become even more alert.

There you go dumbass. Now he thinks you're going to kill him . . .

He continued, "I killed them because I had to in order to protect myself. Nobody will scorn you if that's your case."

Cloud had stopped eating altogether, just as Sephiroth had predicted. His face had contorted into a mixture of fear, shame, and confusion and his eyes never left the center on the table.

"Cloud . . . Did you kill that boy?"

The teen visibly struggled with his emotions. He seemed ready to burst at any moment. With what, Sephiroth couldn't discern. Anger at his daring to ask such a question? Tears because he felt guilt for what he'd done? There were countless reactions that could spring from the boy at this moment, and the one that he showed would depend on the blonde's personality, which Sephiroth knew next to nothing about. No matter, he was prepared for the unexpected. He'd even checked to be sure there were no potentially dangerous objects within the boy's ability to find.

At last, Cloud looked to have made a decision. He clenched his eyes shut, swallowing that powerful emotion Sephiroth couldn't place. Then, he slowly nodded his head, his gaze still locked on the table.

Sephiroth had predicted that answer, even if his hopes had wanted his logic to be wrong.

Well, at least I have /one answer . . . Now for the rest. Let's just hope things continue this smoothly. /

"You don't look like the type of person to kill in cold blood." Sephiroth left the question to be implied.
----------------------------

Cloud had enjoyed the food. He'd nearly eaten all of it by the time Sephiroth had begun asking questions. His thoughts tore at each other's throats like ravenous lions. What could he do? He'd told himself while he was in the shower that he'd open up, but he hadn't expected Sephiroth to come right out and ask such questions.

What would the man do with the information he was given? Could he be trusted? Why should he be trusted?

Cloud had already confessed to killing Matthew. Now Sephiroth wanted to know why he'd killed him. He couldn't tell. Nobody could ever know of the shameful things Matthew had forced him into. No one could ever know what Cloud had avoided that night he'd spilled the bastard's guts onto the wooden floors of the orphanage . . . no one. The white-haired man was waiting patiently for an answer. Cloud knew he'd let his guard down the very moment he'd nodded yes to Sephiroth's first question. He could punish himself later. Right now, he was preoccupied with the task of navigating his way through this endangering conversation.

He looked up to see that Sephiroth was still watching him intently. He cringed under the scrutiny, wishing he had the power to read minds and understand this man's motives for taking him in, saving his life, giving him food . . . asking these questions. He thought of where he'd be if Sephiroth hadn't taken him off of the streets that rainy day and administered the mako injection. He'd probably be nothing but a carcass by now, eaten by rats and other scavengers. He owed Sephiroth the truth, or at least the gist of it.

"I had to kill him . . . I didn't want to . . . I didn't mean to . . . I just had to do it."

Sephiroth continued to watch him, taking in his body language like a sponge. Cloud found himself caught in deep emerald eyes. Astonishingly, Sephiroth was the first to look away. He'd looked down to study his smooth, black leather gloves. Cloud remained silent, waiting to hear what the white-haired man would say next.

"You mean you killed him in self-defense. That's not murder, just man slaughter, but you can still go to prison for it."

Cloud lowered his gaze back to the table. He'd memorized its every grain marking by now.

Here it comes. Policemen are going to pop out all around me and arrest me any minute now.

But no policemen ever came. There was only the growing stretch of silence as Sephiroth contemplated his next move.

"You killed him because you had to . . . What was you motive? What did he do? Did he anger you? Threaten you? Hurt you?"

Cloud was trapped between a rock and a hard place. He wouldn't allow himself to lose his cool again. He forced himself to remain on the sofa, to ponder how he would answer the question. He could always just lie. He could say Matthew tried to kill him with the dagger and that he'd stolen it from him and used it in turn. Then again, Matthew's finger prints wouldn't be on the hilt . . . He was sure it'd be checked. He didn't want to lie anyway, not to this deity who'd saved his life. The least he could do was be honest. He wanted to tell the truth, he really did, but he didn't know how. He couldn't bring himself to admit that he'd been wronged in such a way, especially not to someone like this. Sephiroth would probably just laugh at him and tell him how pathetic and weak he was for not standing up to Matthew. He may even criticize him as being homosexual because he'd appeased Matthew's demands.

Cloud hated feeling indecisive. It frustrated him beyond measure. He'd decided to tell Sephiroth the truth, but how? The man waited patiently for his answer, but how long would his patience last? Cloud remembered his promise to himself to become more outspoken. In a way, that meant he needed to be braver. He'd have to stop being so afraid of others. He'd have to . . . trust this man. He'd have to tell him what Matthew had attempted.

He inhaled deeply, gathering his courage.

Well, here goes . . .

"It's a fairly long story . . . but I don't think you need to know all of it." Cloud paused. When had he started shaking? "It started when I was . . . eleven I think."

Cloud looked up to see that Sephiroth was listening intently. Oh how he wished to be anywhere but here at this moment.

Cloud proceeded to tell Sephiroth how Matthew had cornered him on the play ground, but he stopped there. He just couldn't bring himself to say it.

"He . . . he made me . . ."

He couldn't say it. Why couldn't he just say it? Why couldn't he get it out and over with? It just hurt so much. It hurt to let someone know because he was ashamed of it. Even if he hadn't wanted to do it . . . he'd still done it. In his own mind, it was as fowl as if he'd volunteered himself.

He shook his head and buried his face in his hands. "I can't say it . . . I can't . . ." He tried, but he was unable to hold back the tears. The hot little droplets spawned of his emotions, his shame, suffering, loneliness, pain . . . they fell silently as he hid his face from the man across from him. Gaia, how he wanted nothing more than for this torrent of conflicting thoughts and feelings to subside. He was caught in the vortex of a mighty, merciless storm. He was ensnared in a spinning maelstrom and was descending deeper and deeper into its depths, and he had no one to pull him out . . . no one to rescue him from his own mind and the torturous pain the world had bestowed upon it. Why did life have to hurt so much? Why had he been dealt fate's unlucky card?

His shoulders shook as he wept. His flesh had grown cold and he'd begun to shiver, or perhaps that was only his body's reaction to the anxiety he felt. His tears soaked his shirt. He'd been crying for ages it seemed. His soul had been born crying. He'd dared not look up, knowing what he'd find. Sephiroth would look upon him in disgust. A weak little blonde orphan who felt so emboldened as to cry like a baby in his presence. He'd done it now. If he'd deserved no respect before, he definitely didn't now. He was beginning to wonder if he should just stand and take his leave, but he couldn't make the tears stop. All of the grief had to get out. His body could contain it no longer. He felt as if he'd cry forever . . .

Then, before his mind could register the alien sensations, he felt strong, warm arms around his shoulders. On instinct, he buried his face in the solid body next to him. He inhaled deeply, Sephiroth's scent filled his nostrils, intoxicated, even soothed his mind. He smelled so clean, yet the aroma was powerful . . . not a cologne, perhaps his soap. Nobody had ever held him like this before, not even his mother. No one had ever comforted him, mended him when he broke. He didn't understand how the man could stand to touch him in his weak, pathetic state, him being so powerful, but, at this particular moment, he didn't care. He'd never been shown this kindness, and he decided to take advantage of its pleasure while it lasted.
-------------------------------

Sephiroth sat quietly, waiting to hear what Cloud had to say. The teen seemed to be having trouble forming the words. Why? Was the injustice done upon him so unspeakably terrible? The boy had looked on the verge of tears ever since Sephiroth had asked why he'd killed Matthew, and now he'd covered his face in his hands. Sephiroth knew what was coming before it happened. The blonde's shoulders shook and he exhaled a weak whimper.

Sephiroth stared, unsure of what to do. He'd comforted him the night before, but the notion still felt so strange, so unnatural. He knew orphaned youths were commonly more emotional than those who'd been raised with parents or guardians, but this unstable? There was more to the picture somewhere. Something more had happened to this boy to make him crumble so, but he couldn't offer his condolences until he knew what was wrong.

Cloud's tears continued to flow as his body trembled. The blonde's sorrow pulled at his heart strings, and he couldn't help but inch forwards. Before he knew it, he found himself sitting next to Cloud, embracing him in his arms. He'd been expecting him to pull away, but felt relief when his virgin attempts at calming the blonde weren't rejected. Instead, Cloud did the exact opposite of what he'd been anticipating and nuzzled his tear-stained face into his side.

Sephiroth cautiously placed his hand on Cloud's back and instinctively rubbed it in a circular motion. The action seemed to relax Cloud, if only a little.

Now what? He had a crying teenager snuggled into his side, and barely any experience at all in situations like this. He'd led countless men into battle. He'd overcome toppling odds and defeated an entire regimen of Wutanese ninjas alone. He was the greatest swordsman alive, but when it came to providing solace when others were in need, he was a beginner.

He'd once seen Zack soothe a bawling child whose parents had died in a house fire. They'd been in Rocket Town to check up on the progress of the space program. The wooden cabin had become engulfed in flames during the night while the little girl was away visiting her grandmother. Sephiroth had managed to put out the blaze with several Blizzaga spells, which melted and doused the flames, but he'd been too late. The little girl had to watch as the ashen bodies of her dead mother and father were removed from the ruins. Zack had picked her up and rocked her, telling her it would be okay until she dosed off to sleep. He'd always been a good people person.

Sephiroth decided it wouldn't hurt to imitate his friend and began to rock the blonde slowly. He felt Cloud's tremors gradually relent, and the teen seemed to be sleeping, except for the occasional sniffle. Sephiroth knew that if he didn't change tack Cloud would be sleeping soon. So, after weighing his considerations carefully in his mind, he decided to speak to Cloud, rather than letting him just dose off, which would solve nothing.

"Cloud . . ." he hesitated, unsure of what to say. The blonde had tensed slightly, a sign he was listening. "Cloud, I want to help you, but I can't do that if I don't know what's wrong. Will you please tell me what he did to you that deserved death in your judgment?"

Cloud started to pull away, but, changing his minds, he stopped. Then he spoke. His voice was a desperate whisper and still slightly shaky.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

Sephiroth had been expecting that question from the beginning and already knew how to answer.

"You don't."

Cloud remained silent for a while, contemplating his odd answer.

"Why do you want to help me?"

Sephiroth had been asking himself that very question ever since he'd brought the blonde home. He'd never cared for anyone like this before, and he'd only just met the boy. He didn't know the answer himself. He wondered if perhaps Zack's bleeding heart had rubbed off on him. No, it wasn't his heart . . . was it? No, the great General Sephiroth cared for no one. He despised the weak . . . right?

But he's not weak, you saw what he did to that mako maddened beast . . . he'll make a fine SOLDIER someday.

That had to be the answer. He wanted to help the boy because he'd make a good attribute to the military, that was it, but could he tell Cloud that? The teen had already adamantly refused his offer the day before . . . though he'd never given a reason as to why. Finally, Sephiroth settled on the only answer he cared to voice.

"I don't know."

The next silence lasted even longer than the last one. Cloud shifted nervously.

"If I tell you why I killed Matthew, how many others will find out?"

The question surprised Sephiroth a little. His answer would determine wether he got the answers he'd been searching for or not, but he didn't want to lie.

"Only those who need to know. If it comes to it, you'll have to tell a jury you know . . . "

"Then why tell you?"

"Because I can help you through your trial . . . if you tell me, I may even be able to pull a few strings so that you won't have to stand trial at all."

"How?"

"Remember, I told I hold a high position in ShinRa."

Cloud lifted his head from Sephiroth's side. His eyes were still irritated from crying, but he looked serious regardless.

"What position would that be?"

Now it was Sephiroth's turn to squirm. Not that he was ashamed to tell people of his position, who would be? He'd never met someone who didn't already know he was ShinRa's military commander before. He remembered thinking he'd have to travel the edge of the world to find a lover who didn't know his military rank . . . yet here was this blonde who'd been in Midgar for Gaia knows how long. Not that he could ever consider Cloud a lover. He was a full twelve years older than the fifteen-year-old. No, not a lover, but a potential friend maybe . . . a friend like Zack. While they hadn't truly spoken a lot, they hadn't argued either, and that was quite an accomplishment for Sephiroth, seeing as he instinctively resented most people he met.

It's not like you can keep him in the dark . . . he'll find out sooner or later anyway, better for you to tell him than someone else.

He'd have to tell Cloud someday, why not now? He imagined the blonde would be fairly vexed if someone else told him instead. Perhaps Cloud wouldn't make such a big deal of it. He hadn't even known what ShinRa was a few days ago. That also meant he hadn't any of the praising tales civilians passed around about him. They were all tales of how he'd taken down seemingly invincible opponents single-handedly, or of how he could read the minds of opposing generals of the battle front and use the information to plot his next move. They were all slightly exaggerated of course. He couldn't read people's minds, and Zack had been at his side during almost every fight and the dark-haired SOLDIER was a force to be reckoned with himself. Maybe Cloud's view of him wouldn't change that much after all.

Then, a brilliant idea sprang into his head. Cloud didn't want to tell him why he'd killed Matthew, but he also wished to inquire Sephiroth's military rank . . . perhaps he could make a deal.

"Why don't you tell me why you killed Matthew, then I'll tell you my rank."

Cloud gave him a look that said, 'Are you kidding me?'

"I don't think that's fair," was the blonde's response.

"What do you mean?"

"If you knew why I killed him, you'd think it was an unfair deal too."

"Then why don't you tell me so I'll know why it's unfair?"

"But . . . I can't say it . . . I tried, I really did. I just can't . . ."

Cloud's voice had begun to waver again.

"Cloud, I said I want to help you. I can't help if I don't know . . . Please tell me."

"You don't even know why you want to help me, so why should you? Besides, after I tell . . . You probably won't even look at me. I'm filthy, worthless . . . I'm . . . "

Sephiroth stopped him in mid-sentence. "No, Cloud. I promise. I won't think any less of you . . . no matter what it is."

Again, Sephiroth found himself wondering what Cloud's life had been like. Where had he gotten the notion that he was worthless? Every living creature had a purpose . . . even the lowliest of all such as flies or mice. Cloud was definitely worth more than a mouse.

"How can you know that if you don't know what I'm going to say?"

"Once again, I don't. I'm promising that, if you tell me, I won't think you worthless or filthy because you're not. Cloud, just because you're ashamed of whatever it is doesn't mean others will feel the same shame as you."

A few tears had rolled down Cloud's cheek during the conversation. The teen thought deeply on the latter of Sephiroth's words. Cloud stood, Sephiroth eyed him warily, but relaxed when he only moved to sit in the recliner across from him.

"Fine, I'll tell you, but you have to keep that promise. And don't interrupt. Don't say anything until I'm finished."

"I don't make promises often, so why wouldn't I keep it? And I won't say anything while until you're finished speaking."

Cloud reluctantly nodded his approval, then ran his hand's nervously through his hair, which had dried completely during the conversation and become soft and bouncy. He leaned forwards, but kept his eyes on the ground between his feet.
------------------------

Questions rattled his head like a train wreck. Cloud's heart raced like lightning striking the planet. Where to start? How much to tell? Would he be able to hold a straight face rather than cracking into another breakdown? That's why he'd buried his face in his hands, so Sephiroth wouldn't see if he shed a few tears.

After a moment of thought, Cloud had decided he'd begin with the first time, the first time he'd been defiled and humiliated by being forced into oral with Matthew. He'd also decided not to go into too much detail. Sephiroth seemed intelligent enough to put two and two together. He noticed he had begun to sweat, and his hands had grown cold . . . the classic signs of severe nervousness. He steeled himself to begin a story he thought he would never tell anyone. This man, this practical stranger, had earned more of his trust than he'd allowed anyone in years, but not all of it mind you. Cloud still had his doubts, but how worse could his life get? Besides, he could see that Sephiroth wasn't about leave him be on the matter. Even if the man was being patient and understanding, Cloud could tell he was determined to talk it out of him one way or another.
------------------------

Sephiroth waited for Cloud to form what he found so difficult to say into words. He was anxious to find out what had broken the blonde so. He longed to know just how deep the wounds went. What had driven this boy into such a grave level of introspective distrust? Finally, it seemed Cloud had made a decision. When the blonde spoke, his voice trembled, but not fearfully so. Sephiroth knew Cloud had never wished to tell anyone what he was about to hear, and thus, he listened respectfully.

"I've been in the orphanage even since I was six," Cloud began.

Sephiroth's expression changed to something unreadable. Six? Cloud had been in that place for nearly ten years? No wonder he was so submissive, so unconfident. No wonder he thought himself worthless. Sephiroth knew it was highly unlikely that Cloud had received the proper emotional support he'd needed. He knew from experience that youth was the weakest, most pliable state of the human mind. He'd been raised by a scientist by the name of Professor Gast. While Gast had tried to be a good parent, he was still only a cold-hearted rationalist of a scientist who'd believed that the mind needed no consolations or encouragement. His father Hojo, also a scientist, had always said he was no good at being a father and, therefore, hadn't even attempted it. The only times he saw Hojo were for his monthly check-ups and mako treatments. His mother, she had died giving birth to him, or so Hojo had always said. On certain occasions, Hojo had given him evidence that, perhaps, that wasn't way she'd died. Cloud's voice broke Sephiroth from his reverie.

"You see, no one in my hometown, Nibelhiem, would take me in after my mother killed herself, so I got sent here, to Midgar. The orphanage is a lonely place. I had no friends," Cloud shrugged, "still don't for that matter. In fact, I hardly ever spoke to anyone."

Sephiroth had to stop himself for asking about Cloud's father. He'd given his word that he wouldn't interrupt.

"Matthew had been there for as long as I could remember. He's . . . he was two years older than me, and a lot bigger."

Cloud paused at this for so long that Sephiroth thought he'd changed his mind at decided not to tell. The blonde's hand rose to his neck as his fingers explored the length of the white scar there that Sephiroth had noticed only moments before.

"I wasn't the only one he . . . did things to, but I think I was his favorite. He made me . . . " Cloud gave a frustrated huff, "The night I killed him . . . he tried to go too far. He and Arlex, they tried to . . . to . . . rape me, but . . . I escaped . . . I was scared. The dagger belongs to Arlex, I took it from him so he couldn't hurt me with it, but, in the end, I'm the one who ended up using it. I didn't mean to kill him . . . I didn't . . . I swear I didn't." Cloud's voice sounded strained, as if he were pleading, and, as he spoke, it had receded to a soft whisper. Tears were rolling down the boy's cheeks again, but they were silent.

Sephiroth sat quietly. What he had heard both stunned and angered him. Cloud said Matthew had made him do things against his will before.

Things like what?

I'm not positive, but I'll bet Masamune they were sexually inclined.

Sephiroth's mind seethed. He felt an overwhelming urge to go to the orphanage and strangle the other boy, the one Cloud had spared. Cloud had said he hadn't meant to kill the other one, but, truthfully, Sephiroth was glad he did. Matthew had deserved his death. Sephiroth took in Cloud's thin form in the chair across from him. The blonde's nerves were shot. His hands shook from the shock of telling of his ordeal, and he was so thin . . . pitifully thin. Orphaned at six, staved and mistreated for ten years under the guardianship of the orphanage, then wanted for killing a sick rapist who'd hounded him over half of his life. No wonder he'd tried to kill himself. Sephiroth swore then and there that Cloud would never see the inside of an iron door, the boy wouldn't be accused of murder just because he'd defended himself. Sephiroth would make sure of that. Not even Tseng and his Turks would stand in his way. No one would hurt Cloud ever again. If they did, they would suffer for it.

----------------------------
Author Notes:
Yes, it's finished! This chapter's even longer than the first one! I'll admit, I had a hard time working through this one. I mean, there are hardly any words to describe the emotional mine field here.
I apologize to those who'd gotten wind that this chapter was to be posted earlier. My schedule wasn't cooperating. I finally got my home internet back, so now I won't have to sneak into computer labs and such. I even borrowed the secretary's computer where my mom works, but I didn't get to use that one long. People thought I was the secretary and kept asking me stupid questions . . . that was a little awkward.
This chapter was meant to be longer because it was supposed to contain another major event, but, as you can see, it's already long enough. Thus, I've decided to place that major event in the next chapter.
Sadly, for those of you who are reading this only for the SephXCloud part, that's not to come for quite a few more chapters. Right now, Seph's only thinking of Cloud as a friend, but that will change in due time. They have some bonding to do first. Not to mention, the war is still on . . . I've more than a few surprises for you there.

Please keep up the reading, and you should know by now that I eat reviews for breakfast, so don't starve me! (Did you know that reviews also make a nice midnight snack?)

Concerning gil: Well, I'm not very sure what the value of gil is when converted to the American dollar, but I'm going to pretend one gil = one dollar. So, for example, Sephiroth would have paid $10.00 for the Chinese carry-out delivered by the acne-infested redhead.

Concerning mako: Forgive me if I've lost you on the properties of mako. I've tried to make it sound sensible as best as I can. The principles make sense in my head, but that's because I see the whole picture, and I'm only telling small details as to the substance's make-up allows it to work as it does. I'm thinking that, when I finish this, I shall add a chapter after the final chapter. Said chapter will be a sort of mako handbook, telling everything from what it is, what it's made of, and what it does to how it works. If you don't mind, I'd like your opinions on this matter.