A/N: Recently I read a story that explored the horror of having a part of Sephiroth forever in your mind. That got me thinking about the less horrific and more mundane aspects of such an arrangement, which finally led to this. I'm so sorry, I couldn't help myself.

"I will… never be a memory."

Those words plagued Cloud. He knew that he would always have a piece of Sephiroth inside of him. As much as he wanted to think that a sword fight could end it, the old General was too much a part of him now to ever be cut off. There were no remaining pieces of Jenova so he couldn't return physically, but he had enough of a foothold that Cloud knew he wasn't alone. His mind would never solely be his.

Sephiroth had been right; he would never be a memory. Someone needed to actually leave before you could remember them.

It had been terrifying to begin had secreted himself away from the others in case he lost control or they found out. Then months passed and it became merely unnerving. Cloud was finally bold enough to return to his life and try to outlast the General's voice.

Almost a year later it was just irritating.

'Is this the best you can do, Cloud?' The deep voice reverberated inside his brain, the tone of mockery and disappointment unmistakable.

"What would you know about mechanics?" Cloud scoffed, tightening the nut on his motorbike. It was nearly fixed. He was alone in his garage so he didn't mind answering aloud.

'I know that your suspension will be little more than an illusion the next time you try to land a jump.' The voice slithered across his mind bitingly. 'Just what I would expect from a puppet.'

"Oh shut up."

'You will never be rid of me, Cloud.'

He rolled his eyes.

'Why even bother trying?'

"I have nothing to say to you." Cloud muttered beneath his breath.

'Nothing but a puppet, lost without its master.'

"I am not lost, this is a shortcut." He spat as he pulled up at a traffic light.

'You said that over thirty minutes ago, yet you are still in the same suburb.'

"It's a very big suburb." He grumbled, trying to decide which way to turn. A man waiting at a nearby bus stop gave him a funny look for talking to himself. Cloud ignored it.

'You lack even the will to ask for directions.' The deep voice was condescending and superior, even when coming from inside his own head.

"I don't need directions because I know where I am going."

'You will never escape this maze of your own construction.' Sephiroth declared imperiously. 'And Marlene will be so disappointed you couldn't make it.'

Now that was just uncalled for.

"Oh for goodness sake- Hey you! Yeah you, which way to…"

"It's okay Tifa, I'll make dinner tonight. You deserve a night off." Cloud directed her to the couch. She looked so tired and collapsed onto the couch without further encouragement.

"Would you, Cloud?" She said, looking up at him adoringly. "Thank you so much. I'm looking forward to it already." Cloud gave an awkward smile and shuffled off to the kitchen.

'You cannot cook.'

"We'll see about that."

About twenty minutes later Cloud stared at the ingredients that had survived so far. The pot on the stove was cold and not going anywhere fast and he wasn't entirely sure if the meat was fully defrosted or not and what he was supposed to do with it if it was.

"Uh…"

'We both know you don't have it in you.'

"It's just spaghetti! Anyone can make spaghetti."

'Except for you Cloud. You can't even make spaghetti.' The voice was chilling in its disappointment. Cloud ignored it in favour of throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

"Oh planet, why? Why is it so complicated?"

'This is how you treat the world you claim to cherish so much? You would subject them to such cruelty?'

"It won't be that bad! The water will start to boil soon." He cast a glance at the pot of watery mess on the stove. The pasta sat cold and sticky in the water. Then he eyed the meat tray in the microwave. "And I'm pretty sure you can boil mince."

'You are a very disappointing puppet, Cloud.' If anything Sephiroth almost sounded ashamed. That was a first.

"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." He replied, halting in his failed attempt at making dinner.

'Everyone you love is about to die of food poisoning.'

"Come on," Tifa said with an exasperated laugh, "Can't you do better than that?"

"It's true though." Cloud said, kissing her neck and holding her close. "You are beautiful."

Tifa sighed.

"Really, Cloud? That's it?" She asked, sounding less amused and more unimpressed.

'She's in for a very disappointing evening.' The voice commented idly.

"Shut up." Cloud growled reflexively, not about to stand for having Sephiroth intrude on a moment like this. A second later he realised he had said it aloud when Tifa's eyes opened wide.

"Tifa-" He desperately tried to cover up his slip but she interrupted him.

"Is that an order?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, I like the sound of that." She purred, leaning in close to kiss him lightly, speaking against his lips. "You give the orders tonight."

"Wait, but I didn't…"

"Upstairs." She whispered, disentangling herself from his arms and slinking up to their room with a swing in her hips.

'Heh.'

"I hate you so much."

"That one?" Denzel asked, looking at the old framed photo in confusion.

"Oh yes, this one." Cloud said, holding it up to the light to better appreciate the artistry of it. "Nothing to say?" He asked in a quite aside to his own mind. There was a pointed lack of response. Cloud smiled.

"But Cloud, why do you want a picture of… of him?" Denzel asked, frowning at the photo. There were plenty of others available at the street market but none had caught Cloud's interest like this one.

"Because, Denzel," He said, crouching down to explain a great truth to his adopted son. "Even the most delusional, deranged people in this world might have once been something great-"

'I didn't know you cared.' The voice muttered bitterly.

"-And nothing honours the great man Sephiroth was quite like this picture." He said, studying it again. It showed Sephiroth, in all his skinny seventeen year old glory of gangly limbs, all knees and elbows, with a long silver pony tail caught on the hinges of a playground swing and yanking him back while a boy with red hair laughed at him. The photo had been so perfectly timed that he was caught forever tumbling halfway to the ground a look of pained surprise clear on his face. There was a large tuft of silver hair yanked straight out and flowing majestically in the breeze. It was a thing of beauty.

"I think I'll hang it in my office." Cloud declared.

'Your death will be the most painful.'

"Do you have any others?" He asked the girl manning the booth with a cheery smile. She pulled out a whole box. "Perfect. I'll have one of each please."

Somewhere in the back of his mind someone was sulking.

A/N: Thanks for Reading! Reviews feed the nameless ones crawling inside my brain whose screeching forces me to put pen to paper.