Pairing: Sephiroth/Tifa
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own a thing, it all belongs to Squaresoft/Unix.
Author Notes: To those of you who may have read this on FF.net... I will be updating as soon as I've taken away the smut!
Author Notes 2: This is wholly dedicated to Bleuwyn, who helped me on a Vincent/Tifa fic I wrote. Thank you Bleuwyn and I swear we will catch up as soon as may be. I love you to pieces, babe. Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy the re-written version of Writing the Wrongs...

Righting the Wrongs

Part 1

She knew it was here somewhere, she just knew it. If only she could move, she might be able to find it. If only it wasn’t so damn cold, then she could get safely back to the cabin. If only she could move, she might be able to reach the PHS in her bag.

Snow continuously fell, covering her still body with a thin veil of white powder. Dark hair and darker eyelashes caught the tiny stars like a spider’s web, the shimmering of snow bleak against the deathly shade of her skin.

Frozen water seeped through her clothes, turning her arms and legs numb, while her fingers limply curled into her palms and chest barely rising. The low temperature was extreme and excruciating, yet she couldn't feel a thing.

Too weak to move and too numb to care, Tifa Lockheart lay barely breathing at the bottom of the Northern Crater, her eyes slowly drifting into permanent sleep and body accepting her coming death.

Having heard of a raw material that could better her fighting gloves, the martial artist had gone off to the given location in order to retrieve it. However, a violent snow storm had hit and her compass was lost, leaving her stranded with no idea which way was which.

Tifa tried to move her arm in a last attempt to save herself, but it was no good. All feeling had now gone and she was left with nothing but a spiralling darkness slowly descending over her. Her final thought was for her friends, her family.

“Goodbye…”

*~*~*~*

Today, as it had been for the last seven months, was the same.

Dull grey clouds, snow, and a bitter wind which permeated the skin and made his bones ache. The air was winter crisp, causing his lungs to sting with every breath. It felt as though he were swallowing tiny icicles. Still, despite it all, the crater was home and the snow and dull grey clouds were welcome changes to the sparkling walls of the inner cave he'd made home.

The breeze whirled around him, chapping his lips and whipping silver hair out from under a black hood to blow around his face. The increasing chill had gloved hands pulling the Chocobo skin tighter around his body, hoping to ward off the freezing wind. It didn’t do much good of course, the skin wasn’t much use when the weather was bad.

He’d need to go hunting later and with a little luck, he would come across a few Northern wolves. Their fur gave far better protection against the cold than that of a Chocobo.

The snow was beginning to get heavier and the footfalls he left would be gone upon his return. Green eyes, once bright with cruelty and wickedness, were now dull and empty, as lifeless as they had been in the laboratory.

The black hood kept most of his face covered, but with those green eyes and unique silver hair, his identity wouldn’t be kept secret for long. That was, if anyone were to see him, which was unlikely since no-one dared venture out this far into the snow fields. It was something he was both grateful and saddened for.

There was a part of him that longed for company, to be a part of the world, to sit and converse with someone other than old ghosts. He doubted that would ever happen, not after the crisis. Not after his part in ruining the world.

He wondered what reaction his name received. Once over, he’d been the Great General Sephiroth. He figured he wasn’t so great now; still it would be amusing to know what they said about him, even if they didn’t know the full story. Perhaps they didn’t care to know how he went insane under the power and influence of Jenova cells.

No. It wasn't just the Jenova cells that drove him to commit mass murder. Sephiroth had been hired to check the Nibel reactor and clean up the monsters and fiends, only for him to find he was one of the monsters. How could he be anything but evil, if the only person to acknowledge his existence was a crazy scientist? His only use to the Planet was...

The general gave a resigned sigh. There was no point in hashing through the past and what was. What could have been. It was best those dogs were left to rest in peace. There was nothing for him now except to accept his sentence and live the life fate had dealt, no matter how cruel.

Something hit the toe of his boot and distracted him out of his thoughts. He found himself staring, surprised, at the figure of a young woman lying lifelessly under a blanket of snow.

Leaning down and reaching out with a gloved finger, Sephiroth brushed away a veil of snow and strands of dark hair, and traced her features. Even through his gloves, he could feel the cold stealing the life out of her skin.

A strong arm slipped under her back and his other under her knees, with ease and grace, the man pulled the girl from what would have been an icy grave and huddled her close to his chest. After all that he had done, as both a general and a puppet, he refused to let the loss of another rest upon his shoulders.

“Revive,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with lack of use.

He felt her instantly react to the warming magic enveloping them both. Her body was soft and curved as it sagged against his chest, and Sephiroth felt a ragged breath inhaled. He ignored the way full breasts heaved against his hand.

She would need more if she was going to survive, and so forgoing his need for food and animal skins, Sephiroth turned and went back the way he came.

*~*~*~*

Blankets belonging travellers and animals skins made up his bed and pillows. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but it would have to do. Her wet clothes would need to be removed before he put her into it.

Carefully kneeling down, Sephiroth balanced her weight against his knees and chest, then he lowered the young woman onto a smooth part of the cavern floor. Inch by inch, creamy skin was revealed as the general took first her top and then her skirt. Years of practice had him easily ignoring the state of her nakedness, but not the clothes she wore

What on Earth was she doing? Coming out this far without proper attire? He shook his head in confusion. Women.

As he looked at her, Sephiroth’s gaze landed on the large and unmistakable scar running from her chest to abdomen. Having given many people ones similar, he knew it had been caused by Masamune.

Tifa Lockheart.

The woman-child from Nibelheim. The little girl who had guided him and his men to the reactor all those years ago. The fifteen year old girl who had the body of a woman twice her age. The girl who he had pondered a betrothal with, had her father given permission.

Tifa Lockheart, one of group who had both saved and killed him.

Bitterness twisted a heart thought dead. What a cruel thing fate could be.

He supposed it was just another way for him to be punished and so he took it in his stride, setting aside all thoughts of their previous meetings in order to ensure her survival.

Now that all her clothes were gone, he eased her towards the bed, where he placed her down and tucked her under the blankets. Sephiroth quietly and reluctantly left her side in order to start a fire, his face scowling slightly when he realised wood supply was running low. She would need more than what he had if she was to live.

Until then, he had to make do with what he had.

Being a general, and the best at that, survival had been a highly important part of his training and knew the one thing better than artificial warmth, was body heat. With that in mind, he finished the fire and set about removing his own damp clothes, starting with the Chocobo skin.

Following that, his heavy cloak and gloves were taken off; his boots and scarf were next. His gloves went on her hands and he couldn’t help but notice how delicate those hands were. Each slender digit was slid, with care, inside until all were safe. His cloak was laid atop the animal hide and he crawled under the covers, tugging her close.

“You are safe. You may rest.”

On hearing Sephiroth’s voice, Tifa’s orbs fluttered once or twice and she murmured unintelligibly.

His hand, so much larger than her face, smoothed soaking hair from her forehead and brought her face close to his chest. The soft swell of her breasts was distracting and lust stirred between his thighs.

Snapping his eyes shut and willing away desire, Sephiroth shifted away lest he wake and frighten her.

The young woman was remarkably attractive even in her critical state, and her face scrunched up as though she were to cry. Full lips curled up childishly and a whimper of discomfort escaped, and the longing for contact and comfort evident.

Ignoring his better judgement, the general closed the distance between them and curved both arms around her, nestling her head under his chin. “There now,” he spoke like he would to a child. “You must sleep.”

Her fingers came up to smooth across his chest, only his gloves prevented her nails from digging into his flesh. He bit back a groan as his gaze memorised her face. She maybe pale, but she was still extraordinarily beautiful.

It had been so long…

Shaking off those thoughts, Sephiroth took her hand and held it still, hoping to rid his body of the sudden sensations she unknowingly caused. “Sleep.”

Her breathing evened out and exhausted slumber won, leaving him wondering what would happen once she came too.

Chapter 2

Eyes so red they looked brown, blinked away heavy fog and parched lips attempted to speak. Everywhere, everything, around her was blurry and she couldn't focus straight, no matter how much she tried.

Had she been rescued or was she dead and in the Lifestream? Tifa didn’t know. All she knew was the fact she was warm. Warm and so very, very safe. Her family would be okay, she thought with relief, they would be okay.

Snuggling further under the warm blanket and laying her head down, she allowed sleep to claim her once again. Before she could sleep, she felt a gentle hand soothe and comfort. She smiled at her saviour; she may not be dead after all. Tifa mentally thanked whoever it was and vowed to repay him with whatever he wanted.

“Hush,” her Hero whispered, “Drink.”

One hand was place at the soft nape of her neck and her body was gently raised off the bed. Tifa felt something nudging her lips open and liquid poured into her mouth. It was so delicious and so warm; she greedily began to gulp it down. The effect was immediate and so was the coughing it instigated.

Her body lurched and convulsed as the water entered her lungs and the brunette’s face was turned to the right. Her warm, arid throat contracted tightly and she wheezed as the excess was spluttered out.

“Easy,” her Hero murmured, a hand smoothed circles on her back. “Sip.”

Tifa nodded and this time did as advised. What a miracle, she thought wryly; actually doing what she was told. Taking the offered drink sip by sip, she sighed as the heat spread from her stomach through her veins until her fingers tingled as remnants of biting frost melted away.

“Good girl.”

She was gently laid back down and that hand, so tender and giving, ran softly down her cheek. Turning her face into his palm, Tifa felt the rough skin of masculinity rasp across her features.

Tifa felt good, he felt good. She couldn't help pressing a grateful kiss to his skin. Thank you.

It took all of his willpower to pull from her, but he did. Bereft of touch and comfort, the general stared at his hand as though he'd been burned by hell and looked away.

Nothing remained but the cruelty of a torment so sickening, it quenched what little delight gained from her sleepy response. In lieu of dwelling upon his situation, the silver haired man moved from her side, focusing all his attentions on the more important things that needed to be tended.

Now that her survival was ensured, Sephiroth felt it was a good time to get the needed supplies. If he was to take the utmost care of his unexpected charge, then food, wood and skins were a necessity.

Not wanting to disturb or scare, he eased himself out from his bed and stood, his tired muscles stretched until they popped. He could feel weakness setting into his body and he frowned. He would need to fight more than usual if was to get enough food for them both.

It disgusted him to live as a brute savage, but after the crisis of the Planet, he had no choice. His mouth longed to taste food and tea, his body longed for a soft, warm bed and his soul longed for companionship and love. Living as a prisoner of an empty heart left him cold, so much colder than the weather outside.

Looking at Tifa in apology before lifting his cloak, it would do her no good if he were to freeze. Though he needed it, he still couldn’t leave her with nothing to replace the extra warmth of his cloak.

His eyes searched and found a skin, though it was over a week old, it would be better than nothing. The smell was not as pleasant as he’d like and he was almost certain it was not something she would not choose as perfume, but as always, it would have to do. At least until he was able to replace it.

Chocobo skins were good in bad weather, Sephiroth mused as he cocooned Tifa inside, but wolf skins were more appropriate for them both. Especially if a snow storm hit, which it had.

Leaving the girl sleeping safe and sound, the general didn’t think twice before grabbing Masamune and willing it not to take him under.

The second he touched the handle, power seared his veins with fire and ice, spreading evilness through his body and turning him to stone. Memories of war, bloodshed and violence gave him waking nightmares, making him relive his hellish past.

The smell of disinfectant still burned his senses, the white walls and light harsh in his eyes. Needles pricked his skin and the laughter…

Sephiroth could hear the victorious, proud laughter ringing through his ears. He almost choked on the bile that sickening sound caused. Hojo stood vigilantly and watched each experiment in twisted excite.

Callous hatred and blind rage clouded the general; Masamune was gripped tighter as the urge to make others suffer as he had done welled up inside. His chest hurt from deep breaths and eyelids squeezed back the onslaught of images so horrible, they made his dead heart bleed.

The screams were silent until his lungs almost burst and he cried out. He cried out for all those who fell at his feet. For the towns he had pillaged, for the girl who lay secure in a killer’s bed.

“No.” He would not allow it to happen again.

Before he could relinquish control to the hate, Sephiroth trained his gaze on Tifa and stopped. He was no longer held imprisoned, no longer under the control of the destructive entity.

The soft, sweet scent of femininity replaced the vile and sterile stench of laboratories. Her touch replaced that of latex fingers and leather straps. The serene expression on her dreamless face replaced the mocking of Hojo. The vision of a woman-child removed those of terror and brought back faint hope of a life he wanted.

“In time,” he told himself, “All in good time.”

With those final words directed at her, Sephiroth exited the cave and went in search of supplies. Accompanying him on every step were fantasies of humanity.

Of love and a life.

*~*~*~*

Along the way, Sephiroth had discovered discarded items obviously dropped by ambitious adventurers and without hesitating, picked them up. Everything had a use and since he had some in need of him, that use was all the more important.

His fighting was quick and painless, each lethal sweep of Masamune was perfectly executed, a graceful exhibition to his skill as a warrior. The skins were taken and rinsed down in the hot springs. The meat was cut into manageable chunks, and to keep it fresh, wrapped up in ice and snow. He used a small amount of fire to burn trees and a small amount of ice to extinguish the flames, thus making a decent amount of wood.

Through practiced skill and general knowledge, it was easy for Sephiroth to mark the stars and area. It was amazing that no more than thirteen hours ago he had come across Tifa in this very spot. A faint but shrill ringing noise was heard, capturing his attention and curiosity.

Could there be someone else out here? He doubted it, but as it had happened once today, it was possible.

Directing his feet in the direction and hurrying, Sephiroth focused his gaze on the ground, carefully seeking out what or whoever it was making that sound. Just below the snow, he saw a large outline and dropped the blankets to examine it.

A black bag, compact but well sized, was his find and he wasted no time in opening it. The sound was louder and he dug around, bypassing objects of little interest to pick up an outdated PHS system. His breath froze in his throat.

Cloud’s name was highlighted on the ID.

Answering it was impossible so he simply placed at the very bottom of the bag and zipped it up. Slinging it over his shoulder and looping it twice, Sephiroth retrieved his bounty and resumed the journey back to the cave.

*~*~*~*

Not quite fully awake but sitting up, Tifa kept her modesty with the Chocobo skin firmly around her body. Her pretty eyes, so unique, drifted around the cave and offhandedly admired the walls. Crystals, of all shapes and colours, shone and sparkled, reminding her of expensive jewellery stores. There were bits and pieces of equipment here and there; pretty much whatever a person needed to survive in the wilderness could be found.

She was intrigued. Intrigued and grateful. Who had brought her here?

She saw her clothes neatly laid out on a nearby rock answered her next question and she sighed in relief. At least she wouldn’t be around a stranger naked.

Heavy footfalls crunching the gravel just outside had Tifa gripping the blanket in anticipation, her pretty face etched with trepidation and worry as she prepared to fight if needed. Her eyes never left the cave entrance; the red orbs reflected the heart bruising her chest.

The Hero entered, and judging by the build, it was definitely male, but she didn’t get a good look at his face as he had turned upon entering. In complete silence, the brunette watched as the man pulled another Chocobo skin across the exit, blocking out the minor draft floating in from the passage.

“You are awake.” His voice was incredible. Deep, gruff, and capable of delivering equal amounts of lust and terror.

“Yes, thank you.” Tifa clutched the blanket a little more and stared warily at his back. Each time he moved, she would clutch the skin and her breath would lodge in her throat. A single young female couldn't be too careful in these situations.

Tifa shook her head. Sometimes her imagination was way to active for it's own good. Why would he hurt her now after going to so much trouble of keeping her alive?

“Do not thank me.” Gratitude was one of the things Sephiroth knew he didn't deserve.

Confusion warred with gradual recognition. Huh? Why shouldn't she thank him? "You saved my life, you should get a lot more thank a simple thank you.”

“I also ruined your life.” Turning to look at the young woman and lowering the black hood, the general merely stood there and waited for her reaction.

Chapter 3

A split second was all it took for the fear to strike.

It drenched the air like an aphrodisiac and it was intoxicating. He lapped it up like a cat would it’s cream. He watched the way those burgundy orbs widened and those full, pretty lips parted and shook. God, Sephiroth swallowed, almost wilting under her stare, the fear was shrouding her now. He waited for her to beg and plead, just like others had before her.

“Please, have mercy.” One hapless human would beg.

“Please sir, take me and leave my wife.” Another would plead.

Standing there, face-to-face, with his former enemy and waiting for her to cower before him, Sephiroth was prepared to take whatever punishment she felt necessary.

Feeling her face pale and body begin to tremble, Tifa could barely choke out his name as her gaze refused to leave his. Slowly, shaking fingers were raised and clamped over her mouth.

No.

Not now.

Not after all this time. Things were only just beginning to be put right. The Planet was beginning to heal.

This could not happen again. She would not allow Sephiroth to destroy all that they had done.

Seeing the decision of his survival made, the general carefully deposited all the gathered objects and set them down. Kneeling on the floor and closing his eyes off from the world, feeling stinging tears burn the lids. If she was going to strike him down, then he did not wish to see it.

The memory he would perish with would be that of laying with her, feeling her hold him, allowing him to protect and care for her. He would die with the memory of something real.

“I won’t let you do it again, Sephiroth.” Full of spirit, her tone made his eyes open and he looked deep into rubies, “But you saved my life and for that, I’m grateful.” Nodding once, Tifa huddled further under the skin and simply shut up, her orbs never leaving the kneeling general.

Head lowered and remorse swallowed, Sephiroth bit his tongue and rose. His muscular body unfurled with feline grace, towering over her when he reached full height. “I am in your debt, Miss Lockheart.” Removing Masamune from his back, he winced when the fear hit and she clutched her chest. “I beg, do not be frightened.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

The sword was placed in its home in a small crack and he glanced at her, his eyes so expressive but face blank. “Perhaps.” Not really wanting a walk down memory lane just yet, the general nudged his head in the direction of his goods. “I have food. We need to eat.”

She was everything fiery and defiant. “You gonna poison me?”

Sephiroth’s lips twirled up into a twisted, sardonic smirk. “Poison is not my way. You of all people should know that.” His cloak taken off and he walked towards her, deep green orbs clashed with burgundy and he saw the shiver he caused. “You are not yet strong enough to brave the weather.”

As he closed the distance between them, Tifa stifled the urge to scream out and leaned away from his presence. Her nails threatened to cut holes in the Chocobo hide and tears vowed to fall.

Only when the general held out his cloak did the brunette begin to relax.

“Please, take it.”

“You’ll be cold.” The objection came quietly and meek, her throat dry and lips cracked. A cough rattled her body and violently shook her shoulders; he was instantly by her side.

“Seven months is long enough to adapt.” Sephiroth tenderly patted her back and smoothed her hair, unable to stop his eyes roaming her naked figure hidden by the cover. “I will build the fire then bring some water to boil.”

Watching as he moved around, doing this and that, curiosity overcame the urge to take revenge on the man who had destroyed not only her life, but the lives of friends and family. “Have you been here all this time?” He had too, because if he had been seen then Avalanche would surely have been notified.

Sephiroth worked diligently, arranging the wood in a pattern and surrounding it with rocks. “I have.” Leaving the safety of the crater was impossible.

Tifa nodded and shivered. “I guess it isn’t as if you can go anyplace else.” No doubt he would be lynched. “Don’t you have a home anywhere? I mean, you must have made a lot of gil for your work as a general.”

“I have no home. Never did.” That, right there, was the sad truth of his existence. No home or family, no nothing. His world was made up entirely of war and death, of blood and horror.

“Oh.” What else could she say? She wanted to bring up how she didn’t have a home, either, but refrained. The confrontation that needed to happen could wait until they were both ready to deal with the fallout.

“Fire.” A snap of his fingers and the wood was blazing; the firelight danced off the cave walls and gave off incredible effects.

Almost immediately, warmth filled the place and both sighed, taking comfort in the heat. “Thanks," Tifa muttered, still weighed down by a rollercoaster of emotion. "You want I should boil the water?” Offering help seemed the right thing to do, but first she needed her clothes. “If you’d pass me my clothes?”

“No.” The commanding tone once used upon insubordinates was directed at Tifa and her eyes grew wider, wary and scared. Sephiroth softened his voice, “You must rest if you expect to leave in good health.”

She nodded in submission when it became obvious he wasn't going to budge. “I guess I owe you another thank you.”

Sephiroth countered her statement. “Indeed not. Ensuring your well-being is the very least I can do.”

A blaze of anger burst past the fear and memories. Deceptively delicate fists clenched tight and Tifa ground her teeth together in an effort to contain her rage. “You’re what? Looking for redemption? Forgiveness?” She couldn’t believe his audacity.

All she wanted was to get up and make him pay for everything. For the childish crush she’d had so long ago, for killing her father, for almost ending her life. There was more, so much more, and it was too much to sit and listen to him try to make up for it.

He laughed and it was a sound rich with sadness and a bitterness rivalling her own. The deep, throaty noise echoed around the cave and set a fire low in her stomach. “Redemption and forgiveness are beyond my reach.” Sephiroth poked the fire with a piece of wood and sighed. “I seek nothing more than to live out my days in peace.”

Seeing her ready to explode, Sephiroth deftly changed the subject. “It will be an hour or two before the new skins are dry enough to use. In the mean while, I suggest you attempt to get some more rest.”

His shoulders sagged and head lowered, he glanced at her from the corner of his vision. “For your own safety, I suggest you take my advice.”

The longer she was here, the more tempting she became. Not only was the urge to keep her getting stronger, so was the urge to leave his secure prison. When she left, Sephiroth knew he would want to go with her.

Too see the sun, without snowy clouds and heavy wind, high in the sky. Too feel the heat burning his skin.

To simply feel.

Disgust washed over her face. “Why?” Tifa sneered, her eyebrows rising in challenge. “You plan to take advantage of me while I sleep?”

Sephiroth said nothing. He didn’t have to. The closing of jade eyes and tensing of muscles said it all.

After a few moments, the general held the girl in place with a glare so hot, it set her skin alight and nerves on edge. “Miss Lockhart.” His voice, gruff and husky with something unreadable, raised chill bumps all over her body. “I have lived so long without needing to act as a gentleman. It would serve you well to take my warning.”

Tifa wanted to tease him, wanted to make him suffer, wanted to show him what he couldn't have. God, she wanted to do something, anything that would get him to show his true colours. Maybe then she could kill him, but while he was playing the gentleman, she wouldn't be able to lift a finger. Not after he'd saved her life, brought her food, water, and gave her blankets. What a jerk.

Sephiroth saw and read everything. Her eyes were bright red and burning with anger and hatred. He recognised those emotions well. Unlike him, Tifa wouldn't let it loose without provocation and he had no intention of doing any such thing.

"I appreciate your tolerance," was all he said and then Tifa exploded.

"Tolerance?! Is that what you call it?" She half yelled hysterically, ignoring the way he flinched at the high-pitched sound. "I call it cowardice. Here I am, having my life in your hands, and wanting to make you suffer, yet not being able too. You tell me to guard my virtue because you haven't needed to act the gentleman in a while a-and I'm frightened. Gods, I'm so frightened I can barely see straight."

Harsh breathing and furiously paced thoughts made it impossible to say exactly what she wanted too, but it was close enough. Not that she needed to say her exact thoughts of course, he already had some idea.

Sephiroth remained quiet for a time before giving his reply. "I wouldn't call it cowardice or tolerance," he spoke softly. "I call it a conscience. I rescued you and you feel obligated not too extend to me the hell I previously gave to you."

Tifa was not expecting that, and whatever else she was planning to say, never made it further than her brain. Before more words could escape, he cut her off.

"I did not mean to imply anything sordid or sexual." A rosy blush on her cheeks made his green eyes twinkle with a small spark of humour. Sephiroth's pale mouth sensuously curved up into a half smile. "I haven't entertained in a while; my manners left me long ago."

"You can say that again," she mumbled and again he smiled, but it wasn't a half smile. His lips parted until two rows of white teeth gleamed at her and his cheeks puffed up. It changed his face, took away the darkness and made him handsome. She had to look away.

Sephiroth let out a deep chuckle, and Tifa returned her gaze to see his dazzling eyes sparkle. She found herself fighting a grin, but a tiny giggle escaped. Then another and another, until a musical laugh spilled out. He listened to the sound and clung onto it like a lifeline.

He watched as her slender shoulders shook and red wine eyes filled with tears, while a hand pressed hard against her chest. He wanted to join her, to share her enjoyment, but didn't want to be distracted. If he became lost in his own, odd merriment, then he'd miss something he guessed was very rare.

For a few delicious minutes, she forgot whose company she kept, and in turn, he witnessed the girl she'd been before the nightmare. She looked so beautiful, with dark brown hair framing her face and her lower lip being nibbled. He would have wonderful memories of Tifa Lockheart when she left.

The softness, the scent of lilies, the sleepy kiss to his palm, her laughter and fear... He would remember every single bit of it long after she was gone and suddenly, to Sephiroth, it wasn't so funny anymore.

She would be gone, back to her life, and he would be alone.

TBC