Despite appearances and apparent mannerisms, Cloud Strife wasn't the strong, silent type. At least, not in the conventional way everyone seemed to assume.

He was strong. If he'd been any less, physically and emotionally, he would have been broken long before Advent Day and the Terrible Trio. A jibbering wreck. Dead. If not by the blade of Sephiroth, then certainly through his own mistakes and fragile sense of self.

He was strong because he was too damn stubborn to give in and let life have it's own way, and too damn stubborn to let himself fall.

They called that heroic. He called it fucked up that he had to be that way to survive.

But you didn't have to know the Wolf personally to know it's teeth were sharp: exactly as nature intended and dangerous, it just undeniably was, a fact of life. Yes, Wolves teeth were Wolves teeth, and life wasn't fair.

And while he was silent, that was mostly because he wasn't one for saying things he didn't mean, and had to be one of the most socially awkward individuals on the planet. Being Zack for a while had helped him understand and interact, in a way, but his core personality was one of an intensely private and paranoid man. It was a trait taught to him by the greatest teacher of all: experience. And thus, he felt, well earned.

He just didn't do the people-thing of superficially getting on with others. He had a good head for business, a burning wanderlust taught of a once intensely curious mind, but people he just didn't get.

A vital part of it, however, had to be said to be down to a very comprehensive understanding of himself and application of self-control. He understood why he reacted certain ways, and how this could be triggered: accordingly, he could both pre-empt and control these reactions. The result was him not being very socially acceptable (or indeed, accepting), generally because he was restraining the urge to commit murder, to flinch, to drop into a combat stance or strike before looking when surprised. Because with his speed and strength, it was oh-so-easily done.

So when he heard about Project Rebirth, he didn't flip out. He didn't draw his sword or swear or behead Shin'Ra or burn Neo'Shinra to the ground. Instead, he closed off. Interestingly, this made everyone else more weary than if he'd raged.

The first reaction mentally was a rampaging knot of everything, too many to identify roaring for his attention and briefly stunning him, but one he quickly pushed back in favour of regaining some semblance of emotional balance. Rage, hate, unhappiness, agony, tiredness, hysteria. And so on. He wanted to destroy. To collapse. To cry. To give up. To wreak violent havoc out of pure frustration at the idiots that surrounded him and insisted on making his existence akin to living hell. His heart had dropped through his stomach like a lead weight.

The second reaction was the strongest, and an oddly dominant one.

He was so tired of this dance.

Go through emotional hell, face a confrontation that would scar him for life and then go back to pretending that everything was fine, and that he could be normal and safe and happy despite being an amnesiac, insomniac ex-science experiment, arguably sociopathic at times and suffering from a violent form of PTSD.

Safe? Happy? Even in his own psyche he wasn't safe!

And now this.

He'd known it was something he wouldn't like when he'd responded to the polite summons: especially when a month later, Rufus hadn't even tried to reprimand him for not being punctual.

But never had he imagined this.

They were bringing them back. Of his own free will, with the support of the general public from spin-doctor's silver tongues and careful shifting of opinions and impressions, Shin'Ra was going to bring the three Generals and a smattering of SOLDIER First and Seconds back through cloning.

The same three Generals who'd started what amounted to Apocalypse. The Mad-man himself.

"It's in our best interests as a company and as individuals to inject something new, something daring into it. The risk is calculated, and minimal-" Rufus was talking ten to a dozen, slick and smooth exterior cracking slightly in the face of his neutral demeanour. Shin'Ra continued:

Neo'Shin'Ra needed an edge, something to drive forward with; the enhancements of the SOLDIER's were the first step, unravelling the medicinal and beneficial properties, but also for the leadership. After all, who better to tell them how to avoid being Shin'Ra of old than those who orchestrated it's downfall? Of course they wouldn't be brought back with all their enhancements. Just enough to be useful, not enough for Neo'Shin'Ra to lose control. After all, who could say what state of mind Rhaspados was in? Or Hewley? Or… Him? He was the most critical component, but also the most volatile. Rufus was promising to be most careful with… Him.

And didn't these men deserve a chance to live without JENOVA in them? To live free of Hojo's shackles? Surely Cloud, as a … former guest of the good doctor's hospitality, could empathise at the very least? That aside, couldn't Cloud imagine what they would achieve within Neo'Shin'Ra?

Tuning out the oddly impassioned speech, Cloud's opinion was Rufus had more than a clinical interest in it than he was saying, because business couldn't make the Turk-trained Shin'Ra's eyes shine with desperate hope. The man had been too well tutored to let everything but the most momentous news break his mask.

Reno had shifted the moment he'd tensed, just slightly, but the red-headed Turk was now in the perfect position to get between Shin'Ra and himself. It wouldn't do them any good. The Turk's were usually unenhanced but trained to a level to match someone who was. Reno was an exception, carrying low level enhancements and the weapons to match: still, Cloud was older, stronger and faster than the scrawny Cadet he'd been and could only remember in out of context flashes, and the flames of an insane Sephiroth had forged him from Steel to Adamantium.

Into a Weapon of the Human's devising rather than Gaia's.

Had he wanted to kill them all, had he allowed himself to kill them all, he would have been able to easily.

Shin'Ra trailed off in his silence. The Turks that were playing as body-guards – Elena, dyed blond and deceptively petite, Rude, ebony skinned, bald as a coot and taller even than Reno - stood perfectly still but poised to intercept any strike. He absently pitied the poor bastard that attempted assassination. If Rufus didn't get them the Turks would.

Could he face another battle with Sephy- No, Sephiroth? Yes. The answer to that was easy and clear, branded into the very centre of his being. He could, and he would win. But he would lose himself in the process. Already paranoid, he'd start seeing enemies in shadows, betrayal in care, plot in well-meaning attempts to help. He'd had Zack and Sephiroph and Jenova over-riding his native personality too much to be unscathed, and though he was healing, the last battle with the Terrible Trio had re-opened the mental wounds too wide to heal completely. Another battle with Sephiroth would tear him to bits.

He understood himself too well to deny he was on the edge of sociopathic and suicidal tendencies. The thought didn't bother him too much, a sure sign of how far it had developed. He didn't need a psychiatrist to tell him that.

He wanted to say any number of things. Fuck you for making it all come back, or, I hope Sephiroth get's blood all over his shiny leather jacket when he kills you all, or (his personal favourite) You retarded whoreson! How could you make the sacrifice of an entire town worth fuck all? And all to play god! Your bastard of a father would be proud of you!

What he actually said was something much nicer on the surface, but also far more final.

"Fair parting on cold winds."

It was an old farewell from Nibelheim, a culture now all but extinct, and their roots as a Northern populace. It was the farewell to warriors going to a suicidal battle in full knowledge of it, an epithet at funerals and Burnings signifying the wind's taking of a Soul to the Mountain's heart and thence to the Lifestream, and a parting between friends when the trust had been broken and there was little chance of reconciliation. How it was meant depended on the person and inflection.

This time, Cloud meant everything it could mean.

Shin'Ra thought he was helping the world and was prepared to put his company and life on the line to do so. But he also gained something out of it, though Cloud didn't necessarily begrudge him this. Had Cloud not spoken to Zack and Aerith in the Lifestream, the thought of bringing the First Class back, alive, wouldn't just make a tight feeling clench in his chest like it was now, half-threatening to choke him if he let it free: it would bring hope. The same he could see in every pore of Shin'Ra.

Friend? Helper? Someone he revered? More, even? He wouldn't be surprised. Rufus Shin'Ra had lived in the same building as many of the men he was proposing to bring back to life, consequences be damned. And this was definitely personal for him, smooth talking aside. Maybe he thought he was giving someone a chance at life, maybe he thought he was making things right. Making it fair.

But in doing so, Shin'Ra was taking a risk with every battle Cloud, Avalanche and any other had ever fought in defence of Gaia, every Life given in stopping Sephiroph and Rhaspados and raiding Deepground, JENOVA, every loss branded in a being during what amounted to a brutal and inhuman battle to save the very Planet from destruction.

Some dreams were unreachable, and some not meant for the living world: some more terrible for having been realised than anyone would ever have guessed. Which Shin'Ra's was remained to be seen.

"I wish you luck." He added as an after-thought, the unspoken obvious. For everyone's sake.

Rufus Shin'Ra had broken the trust and was endangering everything. And this time he wouldn't be picking up the pieces.

Wolves' teeth were wolves' teeth, he couldn't help thinking as he turned on his heel and walked from the office with a weight off his shoulders. And feeling oddly free.

And as Shin'Ra would probably find out soon, life wasn't fair.

The people, places and events alluded to in this delectable piece of random Fanfiction do not belong to me in any way, shape or form. They belong to a company, of which I am not part. I take full responsibility for how it came out though.