In the half-light of his apartment, Cloud wrestled wtih feelings he didn't understand. /No. I won't let anyone manipulate me anymore! Sephiroth is dead!/ Sephiroth.....The name stirred evocative images in his mind. His grey hair falling free to his waist, whipped by the wind. His eyes, hard as chips of granite yet somehow with the depth of oceans. /He's dead/ Cloud told himself firmly, clicking on the TV in an attempt to distract himself from the feelings set in motion by the voice. A Shin-Ra broadcast appeared, and Cloud frowned as he caught the words "Rufus" and "funeral". The rest was the standard pro-ShinRa propaganda for the masses. He couldn't believe ShinRa had survived after the Holy saved the planet, starting almost from scratch with its "new" public image. His face darkened and he switched the set off, dropping the remote carelessly onto the coffeee table, mind still eleswhere despite his best efforts. /All of them.....Barret, Cid, Red XIII, Yuffie.....even Vincent. Where are they all now? I miss them./ A little voice in his head persisted, /And Sephiroth?/ Exasperated, Cloud drew the blinds and flopped backwards onto his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling and trying to calm down. Because he recognized the little voice, and that meant he was going insane....Worst of all, he couldn't work out whether it was the voice itself that upset him, or his reaction to the feelings it brought. He passed the hours of the day agonizing, feelings of dread churning in his stomach as the night drew ever nearer. Once or twice he dialed Aeris' number, but found himself unable to punch the last digit, aware of the pian he might be bringing his friend. He stretched his eyes wide, sipping at a mug of caffeine-laden coffee in a desperate attempt to keep away the dreams and sensations that haunted his rest. Finding his lids growing heavy, he sprang up, pacing his apartment, half-taking it its squalid state in. He almost tripped over the Ultima Weapon, acting as a doorstop to hius closet. Ashamed, he picked it up, turning it over in his hands, feeling the nick where....... /Say it!/ he urged himself. "Where.....I killed Sephiroth." It came out as a choking sob. Furious at his weakness, he let the weapon slide through his fingers to the floor. /We never even gave him a proper burial....because there was no body. What does that mean?/ Despairing, he sunk to the floor, head in his hands. Parts of his mind waged open war on each other, one half filled with remorse for the death of a dear friend and war buddy, the other denying any feelings for the man who had killed Aeris, ravaged his hometown, and treated him like a puppet. His eyes were growing more and more languid...... /No...../ At 1:00 AM Cloud gave up the struggle and sank gracefully into slumber. In the shadows, a pair of green eyes narrowed in satisfaction. Cloud's dreams were filled with images of his hometown, Nibelhelm, the smell of cologne and sweat in the night, and the feeling of strong arms around his body. As he woke, the feeling lingered, and half-asleep, he lay there for a while, enjoying the feeling of security in those arms. /Dreams feel so real........ah, well./ He tried to sit, and found he really _was_ being restrained. An involuntary yell was stifled as a gloved hand snaked across his throat and over his mouth. "Don't yell." /That voice....../