All right, I've finally decided to start posting some of my other work. And I have been working on this one sporadically when my inspiration for my two posted runs temporarily dry. I'm going to therefore have sporadic updates on this one, too. Might be a bit quicker the first week, as I have some time to myself (for once), but I make no promises.

OK! Yet another FFVII Timetravel fic. I've not found very many regarding Sephiroth being sent back in time as well, and I've been bouncing about four different versions of this on my computer for a while. This is the beginning I like the best.

Disclaimer: Do I look like a game designer?


He knew he'd agreed to it, but it was still like getting clocked upside the head by a landslide. Gaia had warned him—she couldn't be exact. She could only send him back so far. And that he and Sephiroth were so intertwined on a freakin' spiritual level that Sephiroth would be dragged along—sane, but remembering.

"Strife!" the snapping voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

He couldn't focus on it though, as the pain really hit. Another thing he'd been warned about. Everything he was would go back with him, meaning the younger body he'd been dumped into was getting a massive upgrade in very little time.

Not that he'd grown much since his cadet days, but he'd certainly filled out quite a bit. Not to mention the enhancements. He snapped his eyes closed against the light as someone removed his helmet, almost seizing in agony.

The voice came again, this time sounding more concerned than angry. "Strife! Damn, you—Hansen! Get a med team!"

"No need," a calm, authoritive voice cut in, one that Cloud had not been looking forward to meeting the owner of.

"General, sir!" What was that drill sergeant's name, anyway?

A strong Cure washed over him, and the pain lessened for a moment, though it began building again right away. Still, he struggled to sit. Sephiroth was not someone he wanted to be so weak in front of, regardless of present sanity. And of course the General wouldn't get anything but memories—he'd just been dragged along for the ride. Not to mention he was already enhanced.

"Calm down, cadet. I'm going to get you to help."

He didn't need help, and Sephiroth scooping him up in a firm bridal hold was the last thing he wanted.

Then a soft voice in his ear had him stilling even as he could feel the man carrying him stride quickly across the training yard. "For what it's worth, Strife… I'm sorry."

He forced his eyes open as the pain finally began to abate, putting aside his physical condition to judge Sephiroth's mental one.

Those slitted green eyes glowed brightly with distress, and the use of his last name was telling. Sephiroth glanced down to meet his gaze and flinched away.

Finally, Cloud forced himself to relax somewhat. "I know," he murmured.