Chapter Text
Sephiroth crossed the sand to where Cloud-the-interdimensional-visitor was laying, stripped down from his bulky gear to a pair of Genesis’s swim trunks. He must have filched the gaudy red thing when they were distracted. Several empty containers of food and one expertly-prepared margarita were wedged into the sand within arm’s reach. His sword was split and jammed into the ground in a few places, several towels draped across the hilts to create the shaded patch he was laying in. Something about the sheer irreverence of turning that deadly blade into a makeshift umbrella made it just a little easier for Sephiroth to look at.
Cloud didn’t move his arms from behind his head as Sephiroth came to crouch near him. “Done freaking out?” he asked, eyes closed.
“Effectively, yes,” Sephiroth agreed. For the first time, he really noticed Cloud’s physical state. Dark circles contrasted against his pale blond eyelashes. The tapestry of scars on his torso carried on down his legs and across his feet. His hair was unkempt and inexpertly cut. He was skinny to the point that every ounce of his wiry muscle was on worrying display.
In short, he didn’t look all that great.
“Again,” said Cloud, still unmoving and with his eyes closed, “I am married. Stop undressing me with your eyes or I’ll be tempted to get up and smack you.”
Sephiroth blinked slowly. After a moment’s deliberation, he decided not to take the odd man with the seriousness he probably deserved. “I do not need to undress you with my eyes,” he pointed out. “You have already undressed yourself.”
Cloud’s eyes shot open and he sat straight up. “A joke!” he said delightedly, pointing. “That was a joke! From you, for little ‘ol me? Oh I feel so honored.”
Well. At least he reacted with delight, and not Genesis’s haughty commentary on Sephiroth’s halting attempts at humor.
Cloud raked his bangs back with one hand, uncaring that the motion scattered sand across his face and hair, or that the stiff ocean breeze immediately blew them out of place again. “So, let me guess. You’ve got more questions?”
“No,” said Sephiroth. “A...request. You still have three more hours before your departure, correct?”
“Thereabouts,” Cloud agreed.
“We want you to mediate between us and your counterpart.”
Cloud blinked at him and was silent for a moment. His eyes went distant. “Oh, he’s going to murder me,” he said with an air of dawning realization.
“He’s tried to murder all of us so far,” Sephiroth reassured him, then immediately wondered why he’d assumed that would be reassuring.
Cloud waved a hand. “Bog-standard Sephirothicide instinct, don’t think about it too hard. Nah, he’s going to murder me because I spilled the beans on his plans. I’m not sure I’d be able to do much in the way of ‘mediating.’” Again, he paused. “Although…taking some of that homicidal rage out on an unkillable punching bag would probably do him some good…”
Sephiroth regarded him with alarm. “You are unkillable?”
“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, sure, I’ll meditate.” He got to his feet with a grunt and started extracting his swords from the sand. “But first we’re probably going to have to tear up the beach. Hey, you don’t mind if we lower your property value a little bit, right? Or maybe a lot? What am I saying, of course you don’t. Alright, let’s get cracking!”
Hm, thought Sephiroth as he watched Cloud re-assemble his swords into one whole and start walking back to the house, whistling a jaunty tune. Perhaps this was a mistake.
“ON YOUR FEET, CADET, OR YOU’LL BE OUT OF THE PROGRAM SO FAST YOUR HEAD WILL SPIN!”
Cloud bolted to his feet instantly, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the bunk above him, and lunged for his fatigues. He had about ten seconds to get dressed before Sgt. Wilkins started really tacking on the punishments, and he did not want to run until he threw up. Again.
There was just one problem.
Well, several problems, really: he wasn’t in the barracks, his body was a lot smaller than he was used to, and when he lunged for the fatigues (that didn’t exist), he tripped over his own two feet and went down with a high-pitched yelp.
A pair of hands caught him before he could acquaint his face with the floor. “Ha! Told you that would get him up!” a bizarrely familiar voice crowed above him.
“That is not what we meant when we asked if you knew the best way to wake him up!” Someone—Genesis?—snapped.
Cloud, gasping and disoriented from the sudden adrenaline rush, looked up into the face of...himself.
He blinked.
The other Cloud grinned at him.
What the fuck?
“Hey. Don’t strain yourself, I’m you from an alternate dimension.”
Cloud stared. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, that’s about right,” the other Cloud agreed. “Anyway, I’d apologize for waking you up like that, but honestly it was hilarious and entertainment is at a premium when you’re cursed.” He stood, hauling them both up, and plopped Cloud onto the bed before backing up to give him some space.
What was happening? Bewildered, Cloud twisted around to see that the three Firsts were standing in the doorway, directing glares of various aggravated shades at the other Cloud. When he turned back around, the other Cloud’s grin widened.
His doppelgänger leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “Take your time. I know it’s weird as fuck, on top of all the other weird as fuck things you’ve been dealing with since... whoever decided to toss you back a decade or two.”
Those were normal words with meanings he knew, strung into sentences that were grammatically correct, and yet. And yet. The statements wwere so sheerly incomprehensible that Cloud wondered if he was having a stroke. Was he hallucinating? Lucid dreaming? Had the SOLDIERs drugged him and slapped him in a mako tank? This didn’t seem much like the hallucinations Cloud was accustomed to, though. The other Cloud looked way older than Cloud’s own twenty-four years, maybe early thirties, with a weird unkempt ponytail and eclectic gear.
“Who the fuck,” Cloud managed to say, which was better than repeating himself like a broken record, but not by much.
“You the fuck,” the other Cloud said, visibly entertained.
He stared for another long, long moment. “You’re...me.”
“Yep.”
“From another dimension?”
“Sure am.”
Cloud’s eyes narrowed as one of the other Cloud’s previous statements finally registered. “Wait. What did you mean, ‘tossed back a decade or two?’”
Other Cloud shrugged. “You know, time-travel.”
Cloud was once again rendered speechless for a long moment. “Why are you saying that like it’s normal?”
Other Cloud laughed. “Pipsqueak, I’ve been to a couple hundred thousand dimensions by this point. Don’t ask me why, but The Powers That Be choosing to throw people, especially us, back in time willy-nilly is normal. Seriously though, don’t ask me why. I’ve never understood.”
Cloud opened his mouth. Cloud shut his mouth. “What the f—how could you tell?”
Three sharp breaths were drawn in behind him, and he suddenly realized he’d made yet another fatal error: the Firsts were still hovering just outside the doorway like gossipy schoolgirls, listening to every damning word. Slowly, Cloud twisted around to see their faces. They looked pale, and Genesis murmured “I don’t believe it. The crazy one was right?”
It took a second for the implications to sink in, but once they did—
“You TOLD THEM?” he screeched, whipping back around toward the other Cloud.
“Oh yeah,” he agreed, the fucking bastard traitor. He didn’t sound remotely apologetic. “I told them everything.”
Rage bubbled up in Cloud’s gut, burning through his blood like liquid fire. He bolted up off the bed, hands clenched into fists so tight they shook. “I’m going to—”
“—kill me?” Other Cloud finished, rolling his eyes. “Geez, you are definitely under twenty-five, huh? Here, take these.” He pulled Tsurugi from his back and broke it down with a smoothness that made even Cloud blink, tossing the two shortest blades to Cloud and taking up the central for himself. Then he turned and threw the window open, diving out as he yelled “Do your worst!” It was an obvious attempt to bait Cloud into chasing after to follow through on his threat.
But Cloud still had priorities in terms of who he needed to inflict gross bodily harm on, so he turned back around toward the door to the room. Unfortunately, someone had clearly anticipated him—the Firsts were already gone. With a disgusted, furious snarl, Cloud hefted the blades and darted after his older counterpart.
“Do you think this was...a wise decision?” Sephiroth asked as they stood together, watching the utterly insane older Cloud cackle as he led their own tiny (but apparently not truly young) Cloud on a merry chase. Of the two, the older was clearly more skilled, and more reckless. The younger had skills that went beyond what he’d demonstrated in the yard the night before, and rage made him more reckless than what seemed to be natural, but he was the more cautious of the two in his movements.
“He won’t hurt him,” Angeal said with only a twinge of unease in his gut. The older Cloud was already bloody, apparently considering lacerations to be inconsequential wounds, but he was very careful not to draw blood from the younger. Which, granted, only seemed to enrage the boy, but...he was being careful.
It still didn’t make it easy to watch a grown man and his deceptively child-like counterpart go at it hammer and tongs.
“That still does not make it wise,” Genesis grumbled.
“Would you rather that be you?” Angeal asked as they all watched the younger Cloud tackle the older Cloud, only to get rolled off and promptly launched into the ocean by way of the older Cloud’s feet. It probably shouldn’t have been as funny as it was to watch the tiny blond pop up out of the waves like a furious, soaking-wet cat.
“...maybe.” The younger launched forward with an angry shriek of something that they couldn’t quite catch over the roar of the wind and waves.
Angeal side-eyed Genesis. “No, you wouldn’t”
“You don’t know me,” Genesis sniffed. Down went both Clouds, blades tossed aside, as the younger simply started whaling on the older with his fists. How he thought he would prevail in a grapple against an opponent twice his size, Angeal didn’t know.
“Yes, I do,” Angeal said implacably.
“Yes he does,” Sephiroth agreed in nearly the same breath.
“You’re both insufferable,” Genesis muttered, tossing his head.
Older Cloud apparently had enough of being bruised by tiny fists and flipped the younger over, pinning him to the sand in a lightning-fast move. He said something, and the younger yelled back. He said something else, rolling his shoulders, and the younger slumped.
“I wonder what they’re arguing about,” Sephiroth murmured, a tiny furrow between his brows.
"Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess," Genesis opined. For once in his life, Angeal could agree with one of his insufferably overused quotes.
The distant argument went on for a while, until the older Cloud finally let the younger up. They sat side-by-side, faces turned toward the ocean and voices far too quiet to hear, for long enough that the three watching SOLDIERs started to get twitchy.
“What are the odds they’re plotting our untimely demise?” Genesis asked when the older Cloud put his hand on the younger Cloud’s shoulder.
“Low,” said Sephiroth, unblinking. “That would require far more effort than the crazy one seems willing to exert.”
Angeal nodded in agreement
“Odds that the crazy one is trying to convince the little one not to murder us?” Genesis offered after a moment of contemplation.
Sephiroth looked at Genesis and blinked. Genesis blinked back. Sephiroth sighed. “50/50.”
Genesis looked back at the two in time to see the older rise, offer a hand, and pull the younger to his feet. “That’s fair.”
The two Clouds came over to the SOLDIERs—one bloody, one damp, both bruised and covered in sand. The crazy one was grinning, his left eye swollen shut with a half-healed shiner. The little one looked calm, and perhaps a smidge sheepish. Genesis clicked his tongue and flicked Curas at them both, mending the damage they’d done to each other. The older Cloud smiled crookedly at him. The younger twitched like he was suppressing the instinct to attack.
“So, good news,” the crazy one said, clapping his hands, “he’s not going to kill you! Not unless you do something really stupid.”
The little one exhaled sharply through his nose. “Correct.” He narrowed his eyes at them, lingering on Sephiroth in particular. “Since the cat’s out of the bag anyway, I’ll be clear: knock it off with the condescending shit. Despite the fact that being shrunk seems to have affected my...emotional balance, I am twenty-four years old, which makes me a good bit older than any of you.”
Angeal felt his eyes widen. It was one thing to understand, abstractly, that Cloud was older than he appeared. It was quite another to learn that he was actually older than them.
“More or less,” the crazy one said, and was elbowed for his clarification by the little one.
Wonderful. More complications. “What do you mean, more or less?” Angeal asked, resisting the urge to rub the space between his brows.
“Well, it really depends on how you count the years we spent as lab rats in Hojo’s lab—” started the crazy one.
“They don’t need to know—” the little one hissed, trying to shut him up.
“—and the year we were dragged around the continent while mako poisoned. Functionally he’s probably your age, and I’m about twenty-five.”
“Mako poisoned?” Genesis said, while Sephiroth said, audibly horrified, “you were in the lab for years?”
“They don’t need to know that!” the younger Cloud snarled, directing a frustrated glare at the older.
In turn, the older Cloud stared down at him incredulously. “What? Of course they need to know if you’re going to make sure Jenova’s dead and Hojo can’t—”
“Jenova?” Sephiroth choked, paling with such intensity that Angeal automatically reached out to steady him. Sephiroth’s...mother? Why would they have to make sure she was dead?
Younger Cloud snarled and punched older Cloud in the abs hard enough to make him bend a little.
“Oh for fuck sake,” older Cloud said, not at all winded from the gut punch. “You could at least tell him about his real mom!”
“The last time he found out about his parentage he burned down Nibelheim!”
The crazy one finally seemed to get fed up and yanked little Cloud into a headlock. “Listen to me you little dweeb,” he snapped, “Sephiroth may be a ticking time bomb, but he’s not one that has to go off! There were a lot of things that came before Nibelheim to make him nuts! This one hasn’t been abandoned by Angeal or made to sit through that asshole—” he pointed to Genesis, who didn’t even have time to look offended “—trying to convert him to the dick side! Do you want this to become a self-fulfilling prophecy?”
“What does that—?” Angeal asked in bewilderment, looking back and forth between his friends and the two dueling Clouds, but they were far too absorbed in their conflict to listen to him.
“Get off me!” little Cloud howled, squirming, but he was simply too small to overcome his larger counterpart.
“I’ll get off you when you stop setting up Meteor II: Electric Boogaloo, you little punk!”
“What the fuck does that even mean!”
“It means get your head out of your ass and stop trying to do everything yourself!”
“I don’t need their help! I can do this on my own, as long as they don’t get in the fucking way!”
“Are you shitting me? You’re a fetus! Even I would have trouble on my own at twenty-eight and with a few thousand iterations of this universe burned into my goddamn skull! No, actually, you can’t do this on your own!”
Little Cloud snarled outright. “And whose fault is that!”
The older Cloud got down directly into his counterpart’s face. “NOT. THEIRS,” he snarled back, jabbing one finger toward where the Firsts were listening with stricken, confused expressions.
Silence fell like a tangible weight. The little one heaved for breath, eyes burning with fury until he ducked his head and let his bangs hide his face. Slowly, his hands fell away from where he’d been trying to pry himself free.
The older one abruptly released his headlock and backed away from both his counterpart and the SOLDIERs. He looked between them, then shut his eyes and sighed deeply. One hand, still stained with his dried blood, came up to rake through his hair. “I don’t know why I’m even trying,” he said tiredly. “It’s not my business. Not when I’ll be gone in an hour. Make your own decisions, Cloud. I just hope they don’t bite you in the ass.”
He turned away, trudging through the sand to retrieve each part of his sword as they watched in a silence that no one dared to break. He disappeared back into the house without another word.
It was a new challenge, and a strange one, to figure out how to handle this. Cloud stared down at the sand, shoulders still tight with agitation, fists clenched—a young warrior (but older than them) reining himself in, despite all appearances. Sephiroth looked pale. Angeal knew he wouldn’t be the one to break the silence. Genesis watched Cloud with a strange twist to his lips that even Angeal struggled to parse. Defensiveness for Sephiroth and himself, perhaps, mixed with understanding. He wouldn’t be the first to speak either.
So Angeal was the first to swallow his pride and try to reach out. “Cloud,” he started, slowly, searching for words that would succeed where they had so often failed. “I’m...sorry we didn’t understand. I’m sorry we still don’t understand. But please believe me when I say that I don’t want to see Sephiroth hurt, and I don’t want to see you hurt either.” The boy—no, the man was looking at him with a tired, unreadable expression. “Whatever this is, this whole mess—” he took a deep breath. “Just...tell us what we—what needs to be done to fix it. Please.”
Cloud looked back down, lips pressed into a tight line. “I…” The tension slowly bled from his narrow shoulders. “I guess I don’t really have much of a choice, do I.” He lifted his head and met their eyes, expression fierce again. “Fine. I’ll tell you what you need to know. But we do this my way.”
The Firsts exchanged a glance. There was no hesitation in Sephiroth’s eyes. “We do this your way, Cloud,” he said, extending a tentative hand.
Cloud considered it for a long, tense moment before he exhaled sharply, stepping forward to take the offered hand and shake, sealing their informal deal.
Maybe asking the crazy one to mediate had been a wise decision after all.