DISCLAIMER: This is the only disclaimer I’m writing for this fic, so don’t expect another one. (ahem) These characters, as much as I hate to admit it, are not mine. I really wish I owned Sephiroth and Cloud and Zack, but--alas--I do not. And so, I give all credit of their creation, upbringing, dental work, schooling, and hair styling to Square-Enix.

Author's Note: This is my first Alternate-Universe fic, but it is not a completely different world--it's more like an alternate timeline with a couple more tweaks about fifty years in the past. It is a shonen-ai fic, but not yaoi. There will be no sex, so please don't ask for it. It will be mentioned, of course, but either in past tense or from far away. There will be no details, no scenes, nothing of the sort. In my opinon adding in anything of the sort to this story would, in short, kill the story. Thus, no sex. Sorry if I'm letting anyone down with this.

This story is also the sequel to another story that is still in production, thus making it the middle part of the FFVII Alternate Universe series, Ties That Bind. The first part is Raveled, the second is Bound and the third is Undone. Keep you eyes out for all them if you want to see how this started and how it turns out.

O - O - O

O - O - O

"My home, my mom, everything--give it back!" he growled, the words coming out in a rush as the sword sunk deep into the snowy-haired man’s chest. It plunged in and the boy pushed it deeper and deeper--it pierced the other side, the bloodied point protruding from one of the ebon-clothed man’s shoulderblades, metal scraping against bone as he fell to his knees with a barely-audible gasp.

Sephiroth’s mouth worked silently, his eyes wide with shock, his fingers pushing at the massive blade impaling him--all in vain. The glow in his eyes faded out slowly, and he fell limp against the sword. Cloud pulled out the massive blade, watching without any of the expected satisfaction as Shinra’s only elite, the end result of their costly Jenova Project, fell to the ground and let out one long raspy breath.

The boy fell to his knees, shaking, tore off his helmet and choked back a sob. "I trusted you!" he cried, staring down at the fallen soldier with narrowed, tear-filled eyes of slate gray. "I trusted you, I believed in you, I even--" he broke off, clenching his eyes tightly shut and grinding his teeth. "How could you do this, Sephiroth? How could anyone--anyone, much less you--do something this terrible?"

He shook his head and leaned over, looking down at the man he had once wanted to be, the man he had cared for so deeply, with mingled rage and pity. "How did this happen to you, Sephiroth? How did you become this...thing?" The youth slumped back, leaning against a nearby pipe, and raked a hand through his sunshine-colored hair. "You were always so...so..." He narrowed his eyes, groping for the word. "You wereinnocent , Sephiroth. So innocent that you’d never even seen snow until you came here." He let out a long sigh. "You may have fought an entire war by yourself, but you were still clean. What are you now?"

Cloud closed his eyes, voice dropping to a whisper as he rose to his feet, turning to give Sephiroth one last glance before walking away. "Now," he said quietly, "you’re dead." And then he was gone, leaving Sephiroth alone.

That was a mistake.

The white-haired man’s hand twitched ever so slightly and the wound in his chest slowly--slowly for him, but far faster than humanly possible--began to close. Fragments of bone, all that remained of his left shoulderblade, began to rearrange themselves into the proper order; the bone was whole again within a minute. His emerald eyes, those beautiful, glowing eyes, snapped open in time with his gasp for breath, his ruptured heart giving a single rough beat before it fell into the proper more.

Black-gloved hands slid back across the smooth metal, the left one flat, the other with fingers still tangled in the remnants of Jenova’s silky hair. Sephiroth took a shaky breath and pushed himself up to a sitting position, quickly finding himself flat on his back. That blow had taken far more out of him than he had thought it would--he tended to be able to heal more quickly than this. But then, he had never been stabbed through the heart before, so this was a learning experience.

Chest wounds--particularly through the heart--take longer to heal, he recited silently. I must remember that. With that thought tucked securely into his memory, the silvery-haired man pushed himself to his feet once more. His hair was matted at the ends, the white turned crimson with his own blood, and his leathers were torn and stained beyond repair. He would need a new set when he went back to Shinra Headquarters.

He paused, blinking. Shinra Headquarters? He was never going back there--they had tortured him, lied to him, stolen life’s simple joys from him and exploited his skills for long enough. He would never go back there...except perhaps to kill President Shinra. Of course, the brat Rufus would just take his place, he thought blandly. He could kill Rufus as well, that would not be difficult in the least, but the thought of doing such a thing made his head feel...fogged.

Rufus had been a child when they first met, and so had Sephiroth. Was he actually emotionally attached to that child of a traitor? And over what--the classic scenario of having grown up together? No, that scenario did not apply here: Rufus had never grown up, and Sephiroth had never really been a child. So it had never really happened. But still he found himself avoiding the thought of killing Rufus.

Sephiroth smiled and hefted his sword with some difficulty--the wound in his chest still pained him--and then limped toward the door. He would kill who he wanted to kill, regardless of these fool's emotions. He would come back for the rest of his mother later; right now he needed time. Time to think. Time to plan. Time, though he hated to admit it, to heal.

O - O - O

Cloud knelt down beside the fallen form of his childhood friend, gathering her up in his arms and lifting her carefully. His arms were sticky with blood by the time he had laid her down on one side of the room, propped up against the cool wall. Her eyes were closed, her hair--that deep, earthy brown hair that she had taken so long to grow out--was caked with blood; it would need to be cut unless it was cleaned soon.

He brushed his hand along the curve of her cheek, slate eyes filling with tears when the touch left a streak of liquid crimson. "Tifa," he murmured, praying that she would wake up, praying that she would open her cinnamon eyes just once more. "Tifa, please wake up..." His voice broke, he shook her gently, but still she did not wake. He bowed over her, sobbing, arms wrapped tightly around her slender shoulders, and rocked her back and forth. "Tifa, Tifa, Tifa..." He buried his face in her hair, gray-blue eyes clenched tightly shut. "I’m sorry...I was too late...again..."

A scuffed footstep started the boy from his pain, his head jerking back, eyes shooting over his shoulder to where the sound had originated. Oh, Gaea no...! He thought, eyes widening in terror. With crimson blood staining the black leather of his clothing, Sephiroth stumbled out of Jenova’s chamber and scanned the room with his glowing eyes. They reached Cloud quickly and the boy found himself pinned by their stare.

"That’s just like you..." the silver-haired man wheezed. "...Attacking someone...when their back is...turned... Even after..." He fell silent, his eyes narrowed, and mouthed four words, the four words he was least likely to ever say to anyone. "I...cared for you."

Cloud blinked, trying to force back the tears, trying so hard not to look as broken as he felt.. "You killed them, Sephiroth," he said, his voice low. He lowered his eyes--difficult, considering the piercing hold the white-haired man’s gaze had on his own--and shook his head. The boy gained momentum as he spoke, raising his voice with each passing word, each passing name. "My mother, the townspeople, Tifa, Zack...you killed them!" His eyes snapped open, this time pinning Sephiroth’s, piercing his soul with their stare. "How could you do this, Sephiroth? You’ve betrayed us!"

"You dare to tell me of betrayal? You dare to speak to me of losing trust in those you thought cared for you! What about the Cetra--what about their betrayal?" He narrowed his green eyes. "Your ancestors betrayed them, Cloud! Your people sacrificed mine to save their own lives!" His voice dropped to a menacing hiss. "Do not presume you know about the pain of betrayal, human, until you have seen it through their eyes."

Cloud choked back a sob. "Sephiroth," he began, trailing off as the emerald-eyed man stumbled down the stairs, pausing to look at Cloud when he reached his level. His glowing eyes, pupils tightened into fine black slits, held an emotion that Cloud could not read. Pity? Guilt? Pain? For just an instant he looked like the Sephiroth Cloud had known, the Sephiroth he...had... He pushed back the thought. He’s the enemy now, he admonished himself. There’s nothing left of the man you knew! Just let him go!

But he could not. The emotions welled up inside like the tears in his eyes, threatening to spill over with each passing second. Sephiroth’s gaze darkened, the softness leaving his features, and he gave a small smile. "Call it...payback," he said with a smirk, almost mockingly, sounding cool and composed. However, Cloud could see the sweat beading on his brow and knew that Sephiroth was not taking his wound as well as he was accustomed - this was a time of weakness the likes of which Sephiroth, being anything but human, had never known.

"You’re not the man I knew," the boy hissed, eyes narrowed.

Sephiroth turned away and took another step. "No, I’m not," he said weakly, his voice barely audible. "That man...was a fool." He fell silent, finishing his journey to the door with excruciating slowness. His entire body hurt, his veins burning as the Jenova inside him rushed to mend the wound the boy had left.

He reached the door at last, pausing on the threshold to catch his breath, and felt compelled to give one last glance to Cloud. Didn’t he owe him that much at the very least? Didn’t the youth deserve that much...? But the would-be Cetra did not turn, but rather stood up straight, tightened his grip on Jenova’s head, and staggered out the door.

Each step was excruciatingly painful, the agony echoing an old pain, calling back memories of a childhood the black-cloaked man had never wanted, wounds he had never deserved. His footsteps rang out loudly on the metal piping he tromped across. He paused, looking down at his hands, and took hold of his left glove with his teeth, pulling off the ebon leather with some clumsiness. He spit the garment out, letting it fall down into the glowing liquid that surged and bubbled below--the Mako this particular Reactor fed off--and looked down at this bare hand. Dyed into his skin, deep black against the ghostly pallo, was a simple mark--the number one.

He was to be the first in an army of Jenova’s children, the first in a long line of tortured souls and people plagued with nightmares every time they slept. "The first of the soldiers of the future," Professor Hojo had said. "Yes, you are to be the first of the greatest men this world has ever seen!"

Sephiroth wanted to make sure that this line ended where it began--with him. There would be no more Cetra created by forced means, no more Ancients toyed with and lied to all through their early years. No, he would be the first of Jenova’s children, and he would be the last.

Even if he had to kill everyone in Shinra to make it so.

O - O - O

Sitting in silence while Sephiroth limped away was one of the most painful things Cloud had ever experienced; coupled with the loss of his hometown, his mother, and several friends, it was almost too much to bear. However, the sunshine-haired boy had no time to mourn the loss he had endured thus far, for an instant only had passed since Sephiroth’s departure when another voice broke through the silence the Cetra had left behind. "Cloud...Cloud..." The boy turned, lowering Tifa carefully back to the ground, and then rushed to his fallen friend’s side.

Zack’s Mako-bright eyes were dimming, their glow fading just as Sephiroth’s had, and his mouth moved wordlessly for a second before any sound came out. "C-Cloud," he rasped, groping about for the youth; he offered his hand stiffly, noting that Zack’s grip was loose, almost nonexistent. He gripped the amethyst-eyed man’s hand tightly in both of his own, willing him to return to health, willing the wounds Sephiroth had given him to heal. "Kill S-Sephiroth..."

Cloud reached out to help his friend to rise, to help him reach safety, but the older man’s eyes went blank and his head fell limply forward. Cloud’s eyes widened. "Zack?" He placed a hand on the swordsman’s shoulder. "Zack? Zack!" Still the man did not stir.

First his town, then Tifa, now Zack... He ground his teeth in resolve. "I will, Zack," he said quietly, turning away with narrowed eyes. "I’ll kill him--with what he’s done, I’ll never forgive him...!" He ran out, footsteps heavy against the metal floor.

"Sephiroth!" he called at the retreating man.

O - O - O

Sephiroth’s step faltered, his eyes growing wide as he looked back over his shoulder at the young man. Cloud’s hands were curved into tight fists, his face flushed with rage, and Sephiroth found himself almost enjoying the crushed, furious expression he wore. When Cloud rushed at him, however, it became clear that this was no time to be enjoying the almost childishly messy way his hair fell over his eyes, or the way his teeth stood out perfectly white amidst his tanned skin.

Jenova’s son spun around held out his bloodstained blade, impaling the boy on it with his own intertia. Straight through the chest, just as Cloud had done to him only moments before, the blade reached Cloud’s shoulderblade and then halted--there was not enough force to break the bone as Sephiroth’s had been broken. He could shatter it easily enough, but decided on another, better plan of action.

Sephiroth raised the blade, Cloud lifting off the ground, and stared into the boy’s dark eyes. "Don’t...press...your luck," the man said with narrowed eyes. His lips curved in the most secret of smiles, and he prepared to throw the boy into the shining Mako far below.

He did not expect Cloud to take hold of the Masamune, but he did. The blade cut through the skin on his hands and fingers, but still he held on. With a jerk downward, the boy propelled himself back to the floor, narrowing his own dark, Makoless eyes at Sephiroth.

"I-Impossible...!" the man gaped.

Cloud set his jaw and tightened his grip on the blade, using all the strength he could muster to turn the tables--he lifted Sephiroth off the ground.

With a cry borne both of exertion and of rage, he spun around, sending Sephiroth and his sword into the shining green far below. The white-haired Ancient gave the blade one last push as he flew off, and Cloud felt it shatter his shoulderblade; he gave a cry of impossible pain, eyes frenzied with the intensity of his agony, and felt himself be pulled down with the blade and its wielder.

His cry died in his throat as the air tore at his body, and they reached the Mako far more quickly than Cloud had expected--Ancient, boy, and remnant of Jenova all fell into the glowing fluid. The Planet’s lifeblood burned, impossibly cold and unbearably hot...

Then the world fell away, leaving only darkness.

O - O - O

O - O - O