Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Six

Wrong Winter Rain

Thunder woke Cloud before dawn, rolling deep over the mountain pass until rain began to patter against the glass.

When lightning lit the dark, his omega urged him closer to his mama, and for a while, he let it. Then awareness returned with the painful reminder that he was eighteen, not eight.

Heat rushed into his cheeks, and Cloud tried to pull away.

Claudia stirred and drew him closer. “Stay,” she murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

He stopped and eased back into the nest beside her, surrounded by warmth, and his mother’s steady presence. Cloud settled until lightning flashed across the window and drew his gaze to the manor waiting beyond the hill. His omega lifted its head, unafraid and listening, and nudged behind his ribs as if trying to form a word.

Find.

No.

Sephiroth had told him not to go near the manor. The alpha’s voice had held both fear and command, and Cloud understood.

His omega didn’t care.

There.

Find.

Too many questions pressed at him, all tangled around Sephiroth, Hojo, and the manor his omega wouldn’t let him ignore.

Shinra Manor housed answers.

Or monsters.

Claudia’s eyes were barely open, but she noticed him anyway.

“You’re tense.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise for being startled by the storm.”
  

“I’m not afraid.” Her brows lifted faintly, and Cloud huffed, embarrassed. “Not of the thunder, at least.” 

Claudia brushed loose strands from his eyes. “That still leaves many things.”

Cloud looked down, the truth caught on the tip of his tongue.

He knew what Mama would say if he mentioned the manor, so he offered the safer truth instead.

“…Sephiroth.”

Claudia went still, waiting.

“When I go back to Midgar, he said he’ll ask for my bond.” 

“Ask?” 

“I mean…” Cloud’s voice dropped. “Shinra doesn’t leave much room for choice. But Sephiroth said he would accept my answer.” 

“And how will you answer him when the time comes?” 

Cloud swallowed.

“I…don’t know.”

A lie.

A bad one. 

“Stormcloud.” 

“I want him,” Cloud forced out. “My omega wants him too. But Shinra makes it feel like paperwork. Like a leash. If I don’t do what Rufus wants, they’ll take me away from pack.” 

“And you think Sephiroth would allow them to do that?” Claudia asked, her voice turning serious. 

“I don’t think he’d let them take me,” he admitted quietly. “But he did hurt me. I’m trying to understand it, but I haven’t forgiven all of it yet.” 

“You do not need to forgive him all at once,” she said firmly. “Trust takes time to mend once it’s been broken. But it can be earned back.” 

Cloud nodded. “He organised lessons for me at a forge in the slums. Away from Shinra.” 

“A forge?” 

“I’m learning to build weapons I design. The smith, Sota, is tough on me, but he doesn’t care that I’m omega. Only whether I can learn.”

“Sephiroth did that?” 

“He did.” Cloud’s voice softened despite himself. “After the first lesson, some kids approached him. I thought he’d ignore them, or scare them off, but he didn’t. He knelt in the dirt to speak to one of them. A little girl. An omega.” His throat tightened. “He spoke to her like she mattered.”  

Claudia went quiet. She didn’t know which unsettled her more, the forge lessons or the image of Sephiroth kneeling in the dirt for an omega child.

Her thoughts shifted then to Genesis.

He was not like the alphas Claudia knew. Perhaps he wasn’t an alpha at all. Still, she’d seen enough to know he could be dangerous when he chose to be, and the way he watched Cloud was different, far more careful than possession. 

“And what about Genesis?” she asked after a while. 

“What about him?” 

“I’ve noticed you reach for him differently.” 

Cloud’s face warmed. “Mama.” 

“I’m not accusing you of anything.” 

“You’re doing the mother voice.” 

“I am your mother, so all my voices are mother voices.” That made Cloud laugh under his breath, drawing a smile from Claudia before her expression softened. “Genesis watches you like it hurts him to look away.”

Something tender spread through Cloud’s chest. “He understands things before I say them. Sometimes before I know how to say them.”

Claudia stayed silent, giving him room.

“With him, it’s not simpler. But it’s…different.”

“Different how?” 

“He doesn’t make my omega feel submissive or cornered.” Cloud’s face burned hotter. “I know that sounds stupid.”

“No, sweetheart. It sounds like Genesis, for all his dramatics and red leather, helps remind you who you are.”

He went quiet against her. “Sometimes people recognise wounds because they carry similar ones.”

Cloud wondered if Mama had already seen what Genesis truly was beneath the smoke and embers. If anyone could, it would be her. But she wouldn’t name it aloud or expose him. That was just how Mama was.

Then it struck him how soon he would be leaving Nibelheim, and his mama, behind.

All he could do was hold on to her. 

Claudia’s breathing soon slowed, sleep pulling her under once more.

Cloud closed his eyes, but sleep did not return. The storm grew louder outside, rain tapping hard against the glass.

Careful footsteps crossed the floor upstairs, then moved down toward the kitchen. A faint clink of porcelain followed, along with the sound of running water. Cloud hesitated beside mama, tempted to stay tucked beneath her arm until morning.

But another part of him listened.

A moment later, he eased himself from the nest and padded into the hallway.

~

In the kitchen, Angeal had been awake long before Cloud left the nest.

Old habit and SOLDIER training had woken him early, but neither was the reason he stayed that way.

He couldn’t stop seeing Cloud’s frightened blue eyes and small hands pinned above his head. Lockhart beating a child savagely enough to leave bruises where Claudia wouldn’t see them. Telling him boys didn’t cry.

The coffee mug creaked beneath Angeal’s grip. His scent roughened, wet cedar and warm bread darkened by grief.

He forced his fingers to loosen. He usually had better control than this.

“Angeal?”

Warm berry scent reached him, easing the worst of his alpha’s bristling. Angeal turned to find Cloud standing in the doorway, hair mussed. His blue eyes stayed fixed on Angeal, bright with concern.

“What’s wrong?” Cloud asked. “You’re hurting.” 

“It’s fine, pup.”

Cloud’s brows creased, and his scent wrapped around Angeal, deeper this time, protective and insistent, as if Cloud’s omega had decided he needed soothing.

Angeal breathed it in despite himself. “You don’t need to do that,” he said. 

Cloud blinked. “Do what?” 

“Soothe me.” 

Cloud’s face warmed. “I didn’t…I wasn’t trying to—” 

“You were,” Angeal said, gentling his voice. “And it worked.”

Cloud’s scent wavered, embarrassed sweetness curling through the kitchen. Beneath it, his omega preened, bright and quietly triumphant.

Angeal pretended not to notice.

“Come sit down, pup.”

Cloud took the empty seat at the counter, and Angeal poured his coffee the way he liked it, black with sugar.

“It’s because of Brian, isn’t it?” Cloud asked, wrapping both hands around the mug.

“Partly.” 

“It was years ago.” 

“And you are still carrying it.”

Cloud had no answer.

“It left more than bruises,” Angeal said. “It taught you that parts of yourself were dangerous or wrong. And I think some part of you spent years trying to protect you from a designation you had been taught to fear.”

“That’s not your fault.” 

“No,” Angeal said quietly, “but my alpha disagrees.”

Cloud looked up.

“You are pack,” Angeal said. “I should have protected you.” 

“You did protect me, Angeal. Maybe not then, but after. When I came to Midgar.”

Angeal’s breath caught.

“You never treated me like I was less, even though I was smaller than the other cadets. Weaker. Slower.” Cloud’s fingers curled against the counter. “You corrected my stance like I mattered.”

Cedar reached for him now.

“My father left before I was born,” Cloud said. “He was alpha, and he left Mama because I think he didn’t want me. Brian was alpha, and he hated me. But you…” Cloud looked down, then forced himself to continue. “You were the first alpha who made me feel safe.” 

Angeal’s eyes were wet. “Cloud.” 

“It’s true. And maybe you made my omega feel safe enough to present.” 

A tear slipped down Angeal’s cheek. Cloud stood and crossed around the counter, wrapping his arms around Angeal as berry softened into cedar. Angeal held himself still for one breath before gathering Cloud close.

When they parted, Cloud’s cheeks were pink.

Angeal lifted one hand slowly, giving him every chance to step away. Cloud saw the movement coming and stayed, letting Angeal cup his cheek. The touch was light and grounding enough to make something in his chest ache.

“You are not weak,” Angeal said. “And you were never wrong. You are enough.” 

Heat rushed over Cloud’s face so quickly he had to look away, his omega going soft and flustered beneath his ribs.

“I…uh.” Cloud cleared his throat, desperately trying to remember how to speak. “I should check on Mama.” 

Angeal’s thumb brushed once, barely there, before he let him go.

“Of course.” 

Cloud stepped back, stumbling slightly over his own feet, which made Angeal’s mouth twitch.

“I’ll have breakfast ready when you both wake properly,” Angeal said.

Cloud glanced back from the doorway, cheeks still pink.

“Thank you.”

Angeal inclined his head, something tender and not yet named lingering in his eyes.

“Anytime, pup.” 

As Cloud walked back to his room, thunder rolled again. His gaze slipped toward the rain-streaked window.

The manor waited.

His omega stirred.

Find.

~#~

By the time Claudia woke, the inn’s kitchen already smelled of freshly brewed coffee, golden pancakes, toasted bread, and syrup.

Cloud had busied himself setting the table and carrying dishes from Angeal. Claudia noticed the ease passing between them with each small exchange, and how the commander’s expression gentled whenever Cloud came near.

By the time the others came downstairs, the storm outside had settled into steady rain. Zack was the first to reach the table, hair sticking up in every direction, one hand still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Mornin’.” 

Without fuss, Claudia reached up and smoothed his spikes. “Your hair is as bad as Cloud’s,” she said. “Do not tell me you have no hairbrushes in Midgar.”

Zack’s hand went to the back of his neck, a nervous habit Claudia had gathered. Before he could answer, measured boot heels clicked down the stairs.

“Claudia,” Genesis said, sweeping into the room with effortless grace, “I assure you, we have hairbrushes. Some of us are simply more civilised than others.”

“Then you can teach the rest of them how to use one.” Claudia smiled. “Though perhaps not the General.” 

Sephiroth descended the stairs, silver hair immaculate over his shoulders.

He raised one brow. “My hair is not an issue.” 

“No, love,” Genesis said, smirking. “Not even your hair would disobey you.” 

At the dining table, Cloud’s mouth twitched, but the almost-smile faded the moment Sephiroth’s gaze found him. Cedar and warm bread still clung faintly to Cloud’s hair and shoulder. The alpha noticed but said nothing, which only made Cloud’s cheeks burn hotter.

Then he crossed the room and sat beside Genesis instead, and a stupid, small part of Cloud hurt over it.

Genesis looked between them, his expression softening into understanding. Cloud stared down at his plate and still somehow caught the way Genesis leaned close, whispering something against the shell of their alpha’s ear. Too low for Cloud to hear, but whatever he said made Sephiroth’s lashes lower.

Winter rain reached Cloud from across the table. It wasn’t jealousy exactly. It felt more like quiet possessiveness, restrained but unmistakable.

Mine.

Angeal joined the table with coffee and clean cups, and slowly, the dining room settled into the soft clink of cutlery and low conversation.

Claudia set down her fork. “So,” she said, glancing toward the window, “when do you expect to return to Midgar?” 

Sephiroth lifted his eyes to her. “Tomorrow at 1400 hours. The seventy-two hours officially ends then. If the storm worsens, transport may be delayed.” 

“I see.” Claudia’s voice remained even, though Cloud could see the calculation behind her eyes. “And what would it take, General, if I wanted to follow?”

Cloud went still. Across from him, Genesis’ fingers tightened around his cup. Zack shifted in his seat.

“I am not asking to interfere,” Claudia added. “I am asking what would be required for me to be near my son.” 

Sephiroth didn’t answer immediately. That was when Cloud knew the truth would be ugly.

“At present, Shinra would not allow it.” 

Claudia straightened. “Why?” 

“Because Cloud’s current status remains unstable in Shinra’s eyes,” Sephiroth said. “He is newly presented, unbonded, and politically valuable.”

Cloud’s face burned.

Newly presented.

Unbonded.

Valuable.

The words branded him as stock. 

Claudia’s hand clenched her napkin, and Cloud knew that kind of silence. His mama was deciding whether something deserved a warning or a grave.

“And what would make him stable enough?” she asked. 

Sephiroth’s eyes shifted to Cloud before he offered Claudia the truth.

“A bond,” he said. “Or pregnancy.” 

Cloud saw his mother’s face pale as the room went silent. Worse, he couldn’t stop his scent from souring before he pulled it back.

His body was a condition to be met before his mother could live near him.

Cloud looked down at his plate, but the food turned his stomach. Beneath the table, his fingernails dug into his palms.

Around him, scents tightened, smoke and embers strongest of all. 

Sephiroth’s voice gentled. “I will not risk Shinra using you against Cloud.”

Claudia drew in a slow breath. “You believe they would.” 

“I know they would.” 

Nothing more was said after that. Breakfast continued somehow, though the warmth had thinned into concern and a room full of people trying to protect him while the walls closed in. Cloud barely heard Zack’s attempt to lighten the mood or Genesis’ witty reply. Everything narrowed to Sephiroth’s attention, his mother’s quiet fury, Angeal’s worry, and Zack and Genesis watching him like he might break.

He stood, eyes down.

“I’m not very hungry,” he murmured. “I’m just going to rest for a while.”

No one argued or forced him to eat.

Thank, Gaia. 

“I’ll come check on you soon, sweetheart,” Claudia said, understanding his need to retreat. 

Sephiroth’s gaze followed him around the table, settling between his shoulder blades. As Cloud passed Angeal, the commander’s hand found his shoulder, carrying the same steadiness from earlier that morning. Cloud wanted to lean back into that touch, but instead he nodded once and kept walking.

From the bar in the common room, Reno sat with one ankle hooked over the other, an untouched cup of coffee near his elbow.

To anyone else, he looked bored.

His turquoise eyes followed Cloud as the blond stopped by the window, shoulders rigid, staring beyond the street, beyond the square, toward something past the edge of town.

Reno’s fingers paused against his cup.

The manor.

Cloud lowered his gaze and disappeared down the hall.

For a second, Reno could have sworn his pupils were blown wide.

He rubbed a hand over his face.

Right.

The all-nighters were clearly getting to him.

He needed something stronger than coffee.

~#~

Cloud made it back to his room before his composure fully cracked.

The nest he shared with Mama still held both their scents. He should’ve curled up there and waited for her, as she’d promised.

Instead, he stood in the middle of the room, staring out at the rain. Behind the closed door, the inn carried on in muffled clinks and low voices. The sky had darkened despite the early hour, covering the mountains in shadow. The hill was barely visible, but the manor was not.

And yet his omega circled restlessly, insistent and pulling.

“No,” he whispered.

Sephiroth had told him not to go near the manor, and Cloud had heard the fear beneath the command. He understood why. Anything tied to Hojo meant nothing good, and beneath those floorboards was where his alpha had been tortured.

If Cloud went, the pack would be disappointed.

Mama would be afraid.

He couldn’t do that to them.

“I’m not going,” he said, firmer this time.

For a moment, his omega quieted. Cloud exhaled shakily and turned toward the nest, but thunder rolled outside, low and distant, drawing his attention back to the hill.

His omega lifted its head.

There.

The pull beneath his ribs struck so suddenly he froze.

“No.”

Find.

Kin.

Cloud didn’t know where the word came from, only that his omega believed it.

Kin? Impossible. Sephiroth had no kin, especially not in the place that had hurt him.

His omega pushed harder.

Kin.

Cloud’s pupils widened.

The room blurred. Mama’s scent faded, and traces of the pack slipped away until only the window remained clear.

There.

Find.

Kin.

“No,” Cloud whispered again, weaker this time.

He could stop and go back to the nest. He could tell the others what was happening.

He was choosing wrong. He understood that even as his fingers lifted the window latch.

Rain struck his face, cold enough to steal the air from his lungs. He hesitated with one knee braced against the sill and one hand gripping the frame.

Safety was behind him. Mama, pack, and the nest he should’ve chosen.

Then his omega surged, and Cloud climbed out into the storm without a coat.

~

Inside the inn, Reno’s fingers twitched.

He needed a cigarette.

Or some damn whiskey.

He got as far as tugging the cigarette from behind his ear and pulling his lighter from his inner jacket pocket before Claudia appeared in front of him.

“No,” she said, hands on her hips.

Reno looked at her, then at the cigarette.

“What?”

“Don’t you what me. Not in here, you don’t.”

“It’s rainin’.”

“Try not to catch a cold.”

“Said it before,” Reno muttered. “Gorgeous ’n terrifying.”

Claudia’s eyes narrowed, and the Turk knew then that he was outmatched.

“Aight, outside it is.” He pushed himself away from the bar. “What happened to mountain hospitality?”

“Consider yourself lucky I don’t clip you behind the ear.”

Zack snorted at the table, and Genesis made no attempt to hide his smirk.

Reno muttered something incoherent under his breath and stepped out into the rain.

The cold hit first, followed by a scent almost lost beneath the storm.

Berry.

Reno stilled.

He wasn’t one for all that alpha macho crap, but even his instincts caught on the frayed edge of Cloud’s scent.

Distress, threaded with something deeper.

Something urgent and wrong.

Reno rounded the side of the inn, rain cold beneath his collar, and checked the ground-floor windows. One sat unlatched.

“Blondie,” he bit out through gritted teeth.

The scent led away from town, toward the hill and the manor. Reno was already moving. His hand found his mag rod automatically, the PHS in his jacket an afterthought. By the time he reached the steps leading to the manor, his suit was soaked through. So was the cigarette he had tucked back behind his ear.

“Great,” he muttered. “Just great.”

The manor rose through the rain, dark against the mountainside. Several upper windows had shattered long ago, and vines twisted through the rotting wooden panels like bars. The house didn’t look abandoned so much as though it were keeping something inside.

Reno stopped at the foot of the steps and stared up.

He wasn’t cut out for haunted-mansion shit. People, monsters, anything solid enough to hit with a mag rod? Fine.

Ghosts were another matter.

Thunder answered from somewhere above the mountains.

Reno grimaced. “Yeah. That ain’t creepy at all.” 

He followed Cloud’s scent around the side of the building, where it ended beneath a shattered ground-floor window. Fresh glass glittered in the rain.

“Dammit, Blondie.”

Reno climbed through after him and landed quietly inside the manor. The air was stale and too cold, with dust covering the upturned furniture and the smell of rotten wood everywhere. He didn’t need Cloud’s scent anymore. Muddied footprints crossed the foyer toward an open door, where a spiral staircase led down into darkness.

“Of course.”

His PHS pressed against his ribs.

Reno cursed, yanked it free, and thumbed a brief message to the others.

Reno: Strife at the manor. Basement. Hurry.

Then he tucked the PHS away and drew his mag rod, blue sparks lighting the way down.

~#~

Cloud’s awareness returned slowly at the base of the stairs.

Cold stone surrounded him, damp beneath his boots, and for several seconds he struggled to remember how he’d reached this place.

Then it came back.

The pull that had led him down through the manor and into the darkness beneath it.

Gods.

Cloud swallowed, glancing back toward the stairs. The rational part of him knew he should turn around, climb back up, and find the others before he made this worse. But his omega’s attention was fixed on the corridor ahead, where old lamps lined the stone walls beneath years of dust and the faint chemical bite of mako.

Then the air shifted around him, carrying dust, old paper, and something buried beneath both.

Winter rain.

For a split second, he thought Sephiroth had somehow found him already and was waiting somewhere in the dark ahead.

Then he inhaled again, and the scent was wrong.

Too deep.

Too old.

Winter rain sealed beneath dust, grief, gunmetal, and something Cloud couldn’t name.

Not Sephiroth.

But close enough to make his omega ache.

His legs trembled as he followed the corridor, guided now rather than pulled. It opened into what might once have been a library, long since left to rot with Shinra’s secrets.

Shelves held thick volumes, while crumpled papers and handwritten notes littered the floor. Cloud’s gaze caught on a book half-buried beneath a collapsed shelf, its water-stained cover still readable.

Jenova Project. 

He crouched and turned the book over in his hand, but before he could open it, the scent drew stronger from beyond the library.

There.

Cloud looked at the title once more, stomach turning, then set the book back without opening it. Just outside the library, half-hidden in shadow, another door stood partially open.

Winter rain seeped from behind it, threaded with gunmetal and grief.

Cloud hated how easily he understood that last note. It made him want to mourn without knowing who, or what, waited beyond the door.

His omega pressed forward beneath his ribs, quieter now.

Certain.

Kin.

The door swung open on squeaking hinges. A coffin rested in the centre of the room, its dark wood covered in a thick layer of dust. Melted candle stubs circled the space, and heavy chains lay coiled nearby, many of the links stretched or broken. Cloud stopped just inside the doorway. The scent was stronger here, a wild storm trapped behind old wood.

He’d made a mistake. He’d stepped into the very danger Sephiroth had tried to keep him from. Still, something inside the coffin pulled at him, quiet and impossible to ignore.

“Hello?” Cloud whispered.

His feet carried him closer, until his fingers hovered over the casket lid.

Then something inside the coffin breathed. Cloud jerked his hand away, but the lid exploded open before he could retreat. A flash of red and gold slammed him back against the stone wall hard enough to steal the air from his lungs. Pain burst across his shoulders as the stranger pinned him there, one clawed hand braced at his throat while cold metal scraped stone beside his skin. Cloud’s head snapped back on impact, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat and Sephiroth’s mark.

Despite the trembling in his limbs, Cloud managed to look up.

Red cloak. Black hair. Pale skin that looked as though it had not seen daylight in years, and eyes like old blood.

An alpha.

More than an alpha.

The man leaned closer. Cloud shoved at his chest, but the alpha’s strength did not shift.

“Let go,” Cloud rasped.

Red eyes dipped to his throat.

Panic tore through him, and his omega recoiled from the strange winter rain, certain this alpha meant to claim him.

Gods.

The stranger inhaled, scenting him without consent. There was nothing intimate in the action. The stranger was only assessing him, but it still felt like a violation, and Cloud’s berry scent soured with fear and shame.

The man’s eyes narrowed.

“You carry him.” 

“What?” 

“You carry him,” the man said again, his voice lower now, red eyes glowing brighter in the dark.

At first, Cloud misunderstood. A silver-haired child flashed through his mind, frightened and reaching for a mother who could not come.

His fingers tightened over the alpha’s arm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Grief moved across the man’s face, brief and hard enough to look like anger. “The child who should not have survived.”

The child.

His omega surged, terrified and protective. Sweet berry edged with steel pushed hard against the alpha, sending the broken chains rattling across the floor. It wasn’t enough to force him back, but it made his attention snap fully onto Cloud.

“You are not ordinary, omega.” 

“Let go of me.” 

The man’s grip didn’t tighten, but the threat remained. Behind the winter rain, Cloud could still smell grief rather than cruelty or hunger.

Sadness. 

“You smell like him,” Cloud whispered.

The man’s control cracked. His red eyes widened.

Cloud swallowed, and cold metal nicked his skin.

The man fixed on it.

“Who marked you?” 

“None of your business.”

Those red eyes lifted to his, and Cloud saw the predator clearly then.

Old. Dangerous.

Not safe.

“You came into my prison carrying his scent,” the man said. “You woke me with it.” 

A prison?

The word struck somewhere deep, stilling Cloud’s omega beneath his ribs, and the man seemed to feel it. His attention dropped to Cloud’s hands, braced uselessly against him.

“You are afraid.” 

Cloud let out a breathless laugh, almost a whine. “You pinned me to a wall by my throat.”

Awareness finally cut through the stranger’s expression. He looked at the claw near Cloud’s neck and, with visible effort, drew it away to brace against the wall instead. 

Cloud dragged in a shaking breath.

“Who are you?”

He was met with silence. Cloud twisted sideways, searching for the narrow gap between the stranger’s body and the wall, but the alpha caught him before he could slip free. This time, his hand closed around Cloud’s wrist. His omega made a sound before he could stop it. The grip wasn’t painful, but it landed directly over the tender gland.

“No,” Cloud snapped, twisting hard. “Don’t.”

The stranger lowered his head toward his wrist.

Cloud froze. Winter rain lived there too, woven into berry where Sephiroth had scented him.

Allowed.

“Stop.” 

Cloud shoved at him with his free hand, but the alpha caught that one too. Both of Cloud’s hands hit stone, and memory flooded back so quickly the room vanished.

The shed. The belt.

Alpha strength.

Hands trapped above him while he was too weak to stop it.

His scent flooded the room, souring with fear and fury as his eyes burned. Old winter rain clung to his skin, seeping too close to glands where it had no right to be.

Wrong, his omega screamed. 

The stranger’s hold finally loosened.

Not enough to free him, but enough for him to breathe.

Enough for the alpha to understand, at last, that Cloud was not only angry.

He was terrified.

“I did not intend to harm you,” he said, his voice so rough after years of silence. 

Hurried bootsteps echoed beyond the room. Cloud turned his head, relieved.

“Reno.”

The Turk appeared in the doorway, mag rod in hand. His eyes found Cloud first.

Cornered. Pale. Breathing too fast. His wrists were clutched against his chest, his loose collar shifted enough to bare Sephiroth’s mark.

Then Reno looked at the man standing between Cloud and the door. The mag rod almost slipped from his hand. Recognition settled across his face like he had just seen a ghost.

“No goddamn way,” he breathed. “Vincent Valentine. Former Turk. Officially dead, accordin’ to paperwork.”

Vincent didn’t blink. Reno stepped into the room, grip tightening around the mag rod. “Move away from him.” 

Those red eyes returned to Cloud. “He carries Sephiroth’s scent.” 

Reno’s gaze dropped to the blood drawn too close to the mark at Cloud’s throat, then lower, to the red finger marks over the scent glands he was trying to hide.

His expression darkened.

“What did you do?” 

Cloud pulled his wrists against himself, shame bleeding into the air. Then, something icy swept through the basement.

Winter rain.

His winter rain.

Cloud’s breath caught.

The temperature seemed to drop with it. Even Vincent turned toward the corridor as a presence filled the dark outside the chamber.

Sephiroth’s voice cut through the basement with terrifying calm.

“Release him.” 

Vincent wasn’t touching Cloud anymore, but he still stood between the young omega and the door. Reno was smart enough to step aside, refusing to put his back to either predator.

Sephiroth entered. Masamune glinted in the dark, its long edge catching what little light the basement offered. Silver hair spilled over black leather, and his eyes burned bright with mako and something far older. He looked at Cloud first.

Cloud felt the exact moment Sephiroth saw him. His exposed throat. The blood beside the mark. The bruising grip marks around his wrists. The wrong winter rain clinging where it had no right to be.

His omega curled tight behind his ribs.

The others followed, crowding into the small chamber with their scents flaring dangerously.

Claudia entered first, rifle drawn, her hands steady despite the mother’s fury carved into her expression. Zack flanked her, summer citrus bright with fear, with Angeal and Genesis close behind. Genesis went still as he took in Cloud’s collar, the blood at his throat, and the marks over his wrists.

Rude arrived last, silent and broad in the doorway, cutting off the corridor behind them. 

Sephiroth didn’t look away from Cloud.

“Cloud,” he said, voice low.

His omega flinched at the attention, though the command that followed didn’t press against his designation or force submission.

“Come here.” Sephiroth’s hand remained steady around Masamune’s hilt. “Behind me.”

Vincent still stood between Cloud and the door, body angled like a warning. Cloud’s wrists throbbed against his chest, as he took half a step toward safety. Vincent shifted only slightly, but it stopped him cold.

The atmosphere changed, a storm about to break. Sephiroth’s eyes lifted to Vincent.

“I will not repeat myself,” he said softly.

Vincent glanced from Cloud to the blade in Sephiroth’s hand. Then he stepped aside.

Cloud slipped past him, shoulders hunched, wrists held close. Only once he had crossed the room did Sephiroth move, not to touch him, but to stand between him and the other alpha.

Vincent finally looked at Sephiroth properly, eyes taking in the General’s form like he had seen another ghost.

“You are Sephiroth.” 

Sephiroth stood there, his alpha surging beneath his skin as he fought for control.

“I am.” 

Cloud stood close to his alpha, skin crawling beneath the wrong winter rain. His omega wanted desperately to nestle into Sephiroth’s neck and breathe in something familiar.

Something safe.

But Sephiroth didn’t reach for him, so Cloud stayed where he was.

Silent. 

“Who are you?” Sephiroth asked. 

Reno answered, mag rod resting over his shoulder. “Vincent Valentine. Former Turk. Officially dead.”

Sephiroth’s eyes never moved from Vincent.

“I did not ask what Shinra called him.” 

Vincent’s mouth thinned. “I was a Turk assigned to protect a scientist.” 

“Name them.” 

“Lucrecia Crescent.” He looked at Sephiroth with grief that had never faded. “She was my bonded mate. My omega. And your mother.”

The basement went silent.

Sephiroth’s gaze hardened. “You are lying.” 

“I wish I were.”

Cloud looked between them, berry sweetness rising through his fear as his omega reached for Sephiroth, desperate to soothe.

Sephiroth’s voice lowered. “Why do you share my scent?” 

“Because Lucrecia carried my bond before she carried you.”

No one moved.

“And a bond does not disappear because another man decides biology matters more than devotion,” Vincent said. “She was bonded to me when Hojo impregnated her. She carried my scent through the pregnancy, and you grew beneath it.”

Sephiroth stood too still.

“My mother’s name was Jenova,” he said.

Vincent’s expression tightened with pain. “No. Jenova was not your mother. It was an alien life form Shinra found and Hojo used.”

Zack whispered a curse under his breath. Genesis’ scent smoked bitterly, but he said nothing.

Vincent’s voice roughened. “Hojo used Lucrecia’s body and that creature’s cells to create the child he wanted. He told you Jenova was your mother because it made a cleaner story than admitting what he had done.”

Cloud’s omega reached, berry warmth brushing against Sephiroth’s back, enough to tell him Cloud was there.

Sephiroth didn’t answer, though his fingers flexed once around Masamune’s hilt. 

“Hojo is a liar,” Vincent said. 

“Yes,” Sephiroth said, his voice cold. “Hojo considers truth irrelevant unless it serves his experiments or data.” 

Vincent inclined his head once. “Jenova was the parasite Hojo used to alter you before you were born.”

Sephiroth’s eyes stayed fixed on him.

“And apex?” 

“That came from my line.”

Reno’s brows lifted. Vincent glanced at him once, then returned his attention to Sephiroth.

“My family carried apex blood. Rarely, but often enough that we learned to hide it. Shinra only valued powerful instincts when they could be leashed.” 

“What happened to her?” Sephiroth asked. “Lucrecia.” 

Vincent went silent and closed his eyes. That was answer enough before he spoke.

“She died.” 

Sephiroth’s expression remained unreadable. “Because of Hojo?” 

“Because of Shinra. Because of Hojo.” Vincent faltered. “Because I failed to stop either of them in time.” 

Claudia’s rifle lowered then, just enough for her voice to soften. “That does not make her death yours.” 

Vincent turned to her, decades of unrest carved into his face.

“It does to me.”

Cloud’s chest ached in a way he hated. He didn’t want to pity Vincent, but he did anyway. 

Rude shifted near the doorway. “Tseng and Rufus will want to know about him.” 

“Yeah,” Reno exhaled. “A former Turk who knows too much about R&D ain’t a secret Rufus’ll leave in a basement.” 

Vincent’s eyes hardened. “I am not returning to Midgar.” 

Reno gave him a sharp look. “Ya might not get much say in that.” 

“They built the prison,” Vincent said. “I chose the sentence.” 

Sephiroth studied him. “Why?” 

“To atone.” 

“For what?” 

“For failing Lucrecia and the child she carried. For letting Hojo live long enough to touch either of you.”

Sephiroth’s expression cooled. “Then your atonement accomplished nothing.”

The room went still around them.

“No,” Vincent murmured. “It has not.”

Sephiroth turned toward the door.

“We are leaving.”

Rude bowed his head and stepped away, the others moving with him. 

Vincent remained by the casket, his attention lingering on Cloud once more. “I did not intend to harm him,” Vincent said.

Claudia stepped in front of Cloud, shielding him with her body before raising her rifle.

“You pinned my son to a wall and touched him without consent.”

Vincent lowered his eyes. “I did.” 

“Even though he is marked by another. Even when you could smell his fear.”

“Yes.” 

“Then your intention means little to me. Stay away from my son, or I will put you in that coffin permanently.”

Vincent only lowered his head.

Sephiroth had already moved out the door, the others filing after him, and Cloud followed silently. He moved quickly, trying to stay within reach of winter rain.

For safety.

The alpha kept enough distance between them for Cloud to understand.

No one spoke as they ascended the spiral stairs and passed through the dust-covered foyer. Cold mountain air and rain reached them as they left the manor behind. Everyone moved around Cloud like a shield, and shame twisted hard beneath his ribs.

He hadn’t meant for any of this.

Sephiroth stayed ahead of him, and Cloud tried one last time to reach him, berry warmth pressing gently against the cold.

He only wanted Sephiroth to understand.

He was sorry.

Claudia placed her hand on his shoulder. That alone should have comforted him, but his omega pressed to the surface in distress.

“Cloud.” 

“I’m fine,” he said too quickly. 

“No, sweetheart. You’re not.”

Across the yard, Sephiroth stood in the rain with his back turned. His scent should’ve cut through Vincent’s. It should’ve soothed Cloud’s omega and removed the wrongness from his skin.

Instead, Sephiroth stayed away.

Reno and Rude spoke quietly nearby, comms already in hand.

Tseng. 

Zack looked between Cloud and Sephiroth, suddenly helpless. Angeal watched Sephiroth carefully, as though the alpha were a blade held too tightly. Genesis stood apart, gaze moving between his silver general and his little bird, too much understanding darkening his mako-blue eyes.

Claudia’s hand tightened on Cloud’s shoulder. “We’re going back to town.”

Cloud nodded, though he could not stop himself from looking at Sephiroth. For a moment, Sephiroth did not look back. When he finally did, his face held no disgust, but Cloud’s omega saw it anyway in the way his gaze touched Cloud’s throat, his wrists, then slid away.

Cloud felt the rejection like a door closing. 

“Take him back to Ms. Strife’s house,” Sephiroth said to Angeal.

Cloud’s heart dropped.

Zack stepped forward. “Seph—”

“I need to be alone.”

Cloud knew Sephiroth had been overwhelmed by truths about Lucrecia, Hojo, Jenova, and Vincent. Distance might be the only mercy Sephiroth trusted himself to give.

But his omega only heard that Sephiroth couldn’t stand to be near him while Vincent’s scent clung to his skin.

Disgusting.

Dirty.

Wrong.

His fingers curled at his sides, eyes lowering as shame climbed his neck.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Claudia’s arm came around him, and Cloud let her turn him away from the manor. 

Behind them, Vincent remained below in his prison, while Sephiroth stood alone in the rain with truths he pretended did not matter.

Wrong winter rain still clung to Cloud’s skin.

By the time they reached town, his own scent was all but gone.