Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“This way, darling.”

Cloud frowned tiredly, brushing his fingers along the cold stone wall to keep his balance. “Don’t call me that, Rhapsodos.”

The ex-SOLDIER—a real one, unlike Cloud—sighed theatrically and proceeded to ignore his request. “Really, darling, why must you insist on such formalities? We are among the last handful of uncorrupted souls on this Planet, can you not use my given name?”

“No.” A green glow was steadily growing in front of them as they walked, likely signaling the end of their extended trek. Good. Cloud was far more worn down than he used to be, and he was starting to ache all over. He needed a break.

The ex-SOLDIER tsk’d. “Such cruelty, my friend! Come now, it’s not a difficult name. In fact it’s quite a beautiful one, if I do say so myself. It rolls off the tongue so poetically. Surely you can say it at least once?”

“Don’t we have bigger things to worry… about…” Cloud’s words trailed off as they emerged into an enormous, empty cavern. The walls were speckled with sharp, glowing crystal formations, and he could see colorful materia twinkling here and there. At the very back of the cavern was a mako waterfall, tumbling from some unseen spring to vanish into the depths of a fissure just a short distance away. The roar was loud, yet it resonated strangely with the crystals until it became something almost musical.

Cloud had never seen or heard anything like it. “This is what was so important?” he asked, craning his neck to look around.

“Yes,” said Genesis, extending a hand. “Come.” When Cloud ignored it, he tsk’d and simply led the way to the ledge that overlooked the fissure that the mako-fall vanished into.

“Alright,” Cloud said, crossing his arms over his chest. He was definitely impressed, but he wasn’t about to let the ex-SOLDIER know. “What now?”

“We are out of time,” Genesis said very simply. His head tilted slightly, eyes unnervingly intent on Cloud. “Out of options. Now, you listen, and we will hope.”

This time, when he held out a hand, Cloud didn’t ignore it. With a sigh and a mildly annoyed frown, he clasped forearms with the man. Genesis smiled. There was an odd look in his eye.

He yanked them both over the edge.

Cloud inhaled sharply as his stomach lurched, startled but not alarmed. He knew Genesis had a wing. The ex-SOLDIER’s ability to fly had saved both of them several times. Was this a prank? Was there somewhere lower in the cavern they needed to go?

“Rhapsodos?” he shouted over the roar of the wind and the mako-fall as they tumbled. His confusion quickly turned to alarm when they continued to fall, deeper and deeper. A searingly bright light grew beneath them. “Rhapsodos!”

“To spare the sands, the seas, the skies…”

“Is now really the time for a recitation!” Cloud snapped, digging his fingers into Rhapsodos’s  forearm muscle until he looked up and locked eyes.”Fly, dammit! This isn’t funny!”

“You are the only one who can fix this, my friend.” the ex-SOLDIER’s gaze burned with a fervent light, bathed in the strengthening glow beneath them.

It was then that Cloud truly understood why he’d been brought there. “Genesis!” He grasped the man’s shoulder with his free hand, longing to shake some sense into him. There was still time, but he knew in his gut that Genesis wouldn’t use it.

The glow was blinding, though Cloud couldn’t see or hear the actual mako pool beneath them that must have been producing it. He felt more than saw as Genesis smiled just before the world became nothing but bright static. 

“Well. At least you called me by name once, Cloud.”

That which has been done

cannot be undone

Of course not, Cloud thought. That was how time worked. It flowed forward like a river, and no matter how much he might have wished it, there was no way to turn back. That which had been done could never be undone.

But, that which has not yet been done

may yet be prevented

…what? But everything he wanted to undo had already been done.

Would you see time

turn back?

Yes. Yes, of course. If he could, he would. In a heartbeat, he would. But it wasn’t pos— 

So be it.

In a space between every dimension of reality, Cloud himself—everything he was, had been, and would be—was unmade

and

remade.

Someone was calling Cloud’s name. He felt blank, like no thought at all had preceded the realization that someone was calling him, but he put that aside for the moment. There was a Razorweed in front of him, rustling menacingly…or at least as menacingly as a Razorweed could manage. Cloud squinted at it. Then, feeling strangely compelled to kill it instead of punting it aside and being on his way, he bothered to pull one sword out of his harness and smack the thing.

It went poof! back to the Lifestream.

“Well, at least it’s not weak,” said a boy behind Cloud. Or perhaps it was a young teenager—his voice cracked in the middle of his sentence, and someone else snickered. “Shut up Genesis.”

Genesis?

Cloud turned. Cloud blinked several times in quick succession. Cloud rubbed his eyes, then did it again just to be safe. The image in front of him—three young teenagers in miniature SOLDIER uniforms, two of whom he definitely recognized and a third he felt a strange pang of deja vu for—persisted.

“You’d think it would be a little more exciting when the materia looks so cool,” tiny Genesis Rhapsodos said, poking at the red materia orb his dark-haired friend was holding. It was swirled through with bright, luminescent gold that twinkled like a skyful of stars. “This one just looks like a SOLDIER. How banal!” he scoffed.

“We have hardly tested the full extent of its abilities,” tiny Sephiroth said mildly, side-eyeing his obnoxious friend. “Do not be so quick to judge. It felt powerful to me.”

Tiny Genesis crossed his arms as Cloud’s bewilderment grew. “I’m the materia specialist here,” he said superiorly, looking down his nose at both his companions. “I think I would know a superb summon if I saw one.”

And finally, Cloud summoned up the will to speak. Genesis had always been the thespian in their strange apocalyptic friendship, but Cloud could pontificate when he needed to. He chose a succinct and powerful summation of his current feelings. 

“What the fuck?” he said.

The three young teenagers froze and turned wide, wide mako-blue eyes to him. Then they stared at each other for a bit.

A delighted smile slowly bloomed across tiny Genesis’s face. “You can talk?” he squealed, and Cloud was struck by his resemblance to Marlene as a young teenager, presented with a gift from Barret. It finally sank in that this minuscule Rhapsodos-lookalike was an honest-to-Gaia child.

Tiny Genesis whirled on his dark-haired friend as Cloud stood in place, reeling. “Angeal, give it!” he demanded, reaching for the materia.

“What? No!” the boy—Angeal—said, dancing backward defensively. “I found it, it’s mine!”

“You don’t even like materia!” Genesis complained, chasing after him.

“I do when it talks!”

The scuffle devolved into a grapple and the materia was knocked from Angeal’s grasp. Cloud felt suddenly light and adrift, drawn back toward the orb as he was… un-summoned. The last thing he saw was tiny Sephiroth, crouching down in front of the orb and peering at it like a child coming upon a particularly interesting bug.

And Cloud remembered: Would you see time turn back?

He’d said yes. He would see time turn back. And now he was a summon in the hands of tiny versions of 1) a boy he felt like he should recognize, 2) his very last friend, and 3) his worst enemy. Which meant, if he wanted to fix things—if he really was in a position to prevent what hadn’t yet been done—he would have to do it with the help of three superpowered child soldiers.  

…oh no.

They summoned him again not too long after, this time in the confines of a big tent full of crates, barrels, and tarp-covered vehicles. Angeal was the one who summoned him, and Cloud could feel his intent: they wanted to talk. Both Angeal and Genesis still had signs of their scuffle in the form of a rapidly-healing black eye (Angeal) and a split lip (Genesis).

Timeworn instinct kicked in before Cloud could stop himself. He sighed, disappointed, and walked close enough to tap both of them on the heads as he activated his Cure materia. Their injuries healed over as they stumbled back, surprised.

“Woah,” Angeal said, a hand going to his eye. He looked at Cloud with awe and a little bit of fear. “I didn’t…tell it to do that.”

“I’m not an it,” Cloud said, crossing his arms and staring down these…children. “I’m a person. You can call me…” He trailed off as it occurred to him that it probably wasn’t wise to tell them the name Cloud Strife. He sighed again, irritated, and ran a hand over his face. “Champion. You can call me Champion.”

“You say that like it is not your name,” Sephiroth noted.

“That’s because it’s my title,” Cloud responded.

“But you have a name.”

Cloud stared him down, and he struggled to see the monster this kid would one day become. “Earn it,” he said.

“Who cares about all of that!” Genesis interrupted. “What can you do, Champion? Oh this is so thrilling, I’ve never even heard of a summon who can talk! And you healed us without Angeal directing you!”

His eyes practically sparkled with enthusiasm, and while the blunt rudeness was a trait that Cloud remembered very clearly from his final friend, this pure excitement was not. It was purely childish, and Cloud found himself oddly charmed. There had been no room left for childishness at the end of all things. “I can’t say I know,” he said. “I’m not a normal summon, and you’re the first people to call on me.”

“The first?” Angeal said, surprised. “But that tomb was ancient!”

So, Gaia had put him in a tomb. How fitting. Had he been asleep from the very beginning, just waiting for these three? Why hadn’t she given him to the Cetra, if that was the case? Why wait?

But of course, that didn’t matter. He was here now, and there was nothing to do but make the best of it. He shook his head. “Take it up with the Planet, kids. I don’t know how I’m here, only why.”

Genesis, who couldn’t have been a day over fourteen scoffed, “We’re not kids, we’re SOLDIERs!” Angeal frowned but said nothing. And Sephiroth…

“Then why are you here, Champion?” he asked, eyes intent.

Cloud paused, and he considered his words very carefully before he spoke them. Something about his demeanor must have gotten through to both Genesis and Angeal, because they quieted and became serious. “I’m here,” he said, “to make sure some very bad things don’t happen. And to do that…I’m going to need your help.”

It would have been stupid to tell them what was to come, so he didn’t. Instead, over the course of several days (they were quite busy and could only spare him their limited free time) he told them the true history of the Cetra and the Calamity From the Skies. He told them that ShinRa’s driving motivation—finding the Promise Land—was all based on an impossibility. He told them about the Lifestream, and the Planet, and Minerva. He told them, as gently as he could, the story of JENOVA and their conception. He left no room for the lies of men like Hojo and Hollander to take root.

And they believed him.

Maybe that was why he’d been sent back as a summon. He doubted they would have believed him quite so readily—or believed him at all—had he just been a mortal man.

“What do we…do?” Angeal asked when he’d just about run out of things he was willing to tell them. His young face was cast into sharp relief by the light of the lantern they were sitting beside. Confusion and worry were clear in his eyes. “We’re just SOLDIERs. We aren’t even properly in charge of anything!” 

“Not yet,” Cloud agreed. “But you’re powerful, and you’re valuable. Inexperience is temporary. You’ll earn respect and loyalty over time.” A slow, sly smile crept across his face. “And I’ll help.” He still didn’t know why exactly he’d been sent to these kids, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think it was just to be a walking history lesson.

“You?” Genesis asked, the picture of haughty skepticism. “How? You’re just a summon.”

Cloud didn’t begrudge Genesis his childish scorn. He’d known the grown, tired version of Genesis Rhapsodos for long enough to see the fear that hid beneath that scorn. “A summon,” he agreed, “and a teacher.”

Sephiroth was silent and had been for a long time, staring at him with haunted, uneasy eyes. Cloud didn’t begrudge him of that, either.

“What can you teach us?” Angeal asked. Unlike Genesis, he was sincere.

“You’ll see. I’ve told you everything I can, so we’ll start tomorrow.”

If this is why Gaia put me here specifically, Cloud thought testily, I’m going to summon Meteor myself.

He suspected he knew the reason, now. His suspicion had grown, slowly, over the past few weeks as he trained the boys. They were unmoored, adrift in a sea of responsibilities they didn’t know how to handle. ShinRa wasn’t about to give them guidance or mentors, and the older officers were too wary or too scornful of these young powerhouses to fill the gap themselves. Their fathers were either gone (Angeal), neglectful (Genesis), or better left forgotten (Sephiroth).

Which left Cloud to fill that gap.

Cloud did not think he was the best choice to fill that gap.

“There’s no honor in SOLDIER,” Angeal whispered to him, hidden away from even his friends as he desperately looked to Cloud for what he couldn’t find in himself anymore. “I thought there was. I thought it would be something to be proud of. I don’t…” He shut his eyes and put his head down against his knees, hand tightly clutching Cloud’s summon materia. “I don’t know what to do.”

Well don’t ask me, kid, was Cloud’s first thought. He wasn’t a good anything when it came to kids—just ask Denzel and Marlene. But, at the same time, if Angeal couldn’t ask him…who could he ask?

“Then make it something with honor,” Cloud said. He didn’t have a better answer, but the way Angeal had looked up at him with a revelatory spark in his eyes made him think that it might have been the right one.

Genesis was a little bit harder to handle. “How am I supposed to be a hero,” he said in the middle of a spar with Cloud, frustration pulling the words out of him, “if everyone thinks he’s better than me!” Each blow he struck was wild and strong, recklessness turning his usually graceful form into something brutal and ugly.

Cloud didn’t respond immediately. He narrowed his eyes and cut the spar short by quickly disarming the hot-headed teenager and slamming him onto his back, sword at his throat. “What kind of hero?”

Genesis, who’d looked on the verge of a genuine tantrum after being outmatched so quickly, was brought up short. He blinked, mouth parting a little. “Huh?”

Cloud kept the sword at his throat and refused to break eye contact. “Do you want to be a hero, or do you just want to be famous? Because I’ve got something to tell you kid—you’re already a hero.”

Fury crossed his young face like lightning. It was clear he thought he was, somehow, being insulted. “What are you talking about, Champion?” he snapped.

Cloud pulled his sword away and offered Genesis a hand up, pulling him to his feet. “I’ve heard the stories. Do you think you’re not a hero to that infantry squad you rescued when they got pinned down by snipers? What about that medic you saved from the landslide?” He crossed his arms, satisfied by the way Genesis was pulled up short again, fury snuffed out. “How about the way Angeal and Sephiroth look at you? You really think you’re not a hero to them, after everything that’s happened?” He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll ask again: Genesis, what kind of hero do you want to be.”

Cloud handled Genesis and Angeal as best he could when they came to him. Only one thing worried him, as he watched all three boys grow into their strength and influence: Sephiroth never once asked him for help the way his friends did.

It was hard to tell how much time passed between each summoning. Cloud remained aware when he was within the materia, perceiving the distant feelings and intents of whoever had him equipped, but every thought melded together into a continuous flow. He was starting to think it had been a while. Just as he was starting to wonder might be going on, he felt a powerful surge of terror before his materia was abruptly unequpped.

Angeal’s never been this scared in battle before, he thought, until that thought too slipped away into the endless undifferentiated stream.

His next summoning was as fast as a burst of lightning and he was pulled forth before Sephiroth’s hand had even fully closed around the materia. The boy’s intent was so strong that it came as a blast of knowledge which Cloud couldn’t parse immediately. 

He saw Sephiroth, standing in a hospital gown, bleeding. And he saw Genesis and Angeal, barely standing behind him as they leaned heavily against the wall. And he saw Hojo, advancing on the three of them with his soldiers and assistants.

“—you will cease this infernal rebellion!” the slimy scientist was in the middle of saying. “Or your inferior little companions will pay the price!”

Sephiroth met his eyes and the intent behind the summoning finally registered in Cloud’s mind. “Champion,” Sephiroth said, and his voice cracked with desperation. “Help me.”

Cloud let the tip of First Tsurugi scrape across the floor, creating an ear-splitting shriek of metal on metal. Hojo and his lackeys stopped advancing on the boys and turned to him instead as the sound successfully caught their attention.

“What! Who is this?” Hojo said, far more outraged than scared at the sight of Cloud with his sword at the ready. That would change. He turned back toward Sephiroth. “Boy! What have you done!”

Cloud never broke eye contact with Seph. A small, pleased smile crossed his face. Maybe he’d built more trust with the kid than he’d thought. Even without a word between them, relief visibly washed over his young face.

It would be my pleasure, Cloud thought, inclining his head to the boys as he twirled Tsurugi into a ready position.

Hojo died without ever once hearing the voice of the miraculous speaking Summon.

Cloud had taught the boys more than just swordplay because they needed more than just swordplay to survive ShinRa. Even though he couldn’t help them with the fallout of Hojo’s death, he knew they could handle it after everything he’d taught them. Their survival was assured for the moment, at least. Long-term political maneuvering was for later.

So he was a little surprised when Seph summoned him, alone, on the roof of the ShinRa Tower.

“He told me a lot of things,” Seph said without preamble. He was sitting on the edge of the roof, staring out over the city. 

Cloud came over to sit next to him, elbows braced on his thighs and hands clasped. “What kind of things?” he asked, even though he could guess.

“... bad things.” He looked down at where his own hands were clasped in his lap. “Things someone would… want to prevent.” He fell silent, and Cloud let it linger between them, waiting patiently. Seph was like him. He would speak when he was ready, or not at all. Either one was okay.

Finally, he looked at Cloud, peering up with tired eyes through the silver curtain of his bangs. “I was supposed to be a monster, wasn’t I.”

Cloud sat back and despite the terrible words, he couldn’t help the faint warmth of pride that suffused through his chest. Sephiroth always had been smart. Too smart for his own good. “Hmm…no,” he said. “You’ve got it exactly backward.” He set a hand on that head of silver hair and ruffled gently, much to the kid’s visible surprise. “This— right here, in front of me—is always what you were meant to be. A good friend. Strong and kind. Willing to ask for help. A good man.”

He dropped his hand and looked out over the city. When they’d first summoned him, he might have worried about Midgar and all its people. But now, he fully trusted his boys with the future of it. In fact, he trusted his boys with the future of the entire Planet. They could handle it. 

The change—between a past that never was and would never be, and a present that was so bright—wasn’t his doing. Not really. He was just the whetstone they’d needed to hone themselves into people who could keep the world from crumbling. Good boys. Good men.

He looked back and smiled, full and genuine in a way that had been so rare before but wasn’t anymore. For all the terrible things it had taken to get here, he didn’t regret it. Not anymore. Seeing what they’d become made it all worth it.

“I’m so proud of who you are, Seph.”

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