A/N: Just a oneshot. Playing on the idea that if Sephiroth had a companion, what would life be like for it after he 'died'.

Once upon a time she was beautiful. A companion befitting a hero. Her coat gleamed in the sunlight, glistening eyes picking out every detail, committing them to her memory, should they ever disappear. Wolf was what he called her, his silken voice accentuating the sound of her name as he rolled it off his tongue. Wolf was what she was. Till Hojo had a go. Then she was human, only a shadow of the beast remaining. Still her eyes would glisten and her hair would gleam, pulled tightly into a bun, or flowing freely down her back, his fingers ghosting through it like water.

She was 15, long past the years of the wolf she had been, and wiser for it too. She was his trusted companion, his partner, his pet. Inseparably entwined to his fate, she would go everywhere he went. Sephiroth and his Wolf were one. But that was in the past...

Now, she was ragged. A creature befitting the cell she was prisoner of. Untrusting of her, Shinra had incarcerated her upon Sephiroth's demise. Kept under constant surveillance, day in and day out, through light and dark, lest she should try to escape and go to his aid. She never did. Her eyes were dull and her hair no longer gleamed. The young Wolf who marched to war, fought beside him was no longer there.

All the day she would sit in her cell, gazing through the barred window at the blue skies beyond. She never thought about him now. She used to, but not now. Years of hoping, longing, pining for her master had taught her not to think of him, for he was dead to her now. At night she would dream of him though still. He was encircled by flames that licked his body and his armour. His eyes reflected none of the love she held for him. His face now haunted her once pleasant dreams.

Time and time again she would be called from her cell, forced to wash the dishes, scrub the walls, clean the entire complex from top to bottom every day, though only she and the guards were living there. She had long accepted her fate to live and waste away in that place, surrounded by concrete walls, becoming duller and duller with every empty year.

There was just too much for time to try and erase. It had been 8 years already since his death the first time and still her sentence went on. At the age of 23 there was nothing left for her in the outside world, it had changed, and so had she.

His presence still lingered with her and it would not go away. At night she would wake up screaming, a thing the guards had long gotten used to. Then she would creep to her window, pull out the bars and window panes, and let the cold air rush against her face, cooling the sweat that coated her brow. It was at these times she was glad she was alone, to enjoy these little things he never liked to do; let the wind caress his face, watch the clouds float by in the sky, see the seasons change around him.

If anyone asked her to, she would run to him still, but it had been years since she had heard his name, refusal to think of him had led her to muteness. Still years passed around her, as she was caught in a web of routine and mechanical gesture. Decades had it been since she saw his face, but still he held her in his palm. She tried so many times to tell herself he was gone, but now she was bound by the life he left behind.

Was it love? She didn't know, but she was so tired of being there, alone in that world, suppressed by all her childish fears. Was it loyalty? She wasn't sure, but she longed to see his face, be captivated by his voice she still sometimes heard in her mind. He'd chased away all the sanity in her, and she didn't even care. Was she alive? She hardly knew, she'd been alone so long, she barely felt human, barely felt Wolf. Trapped in a world with no noise, no feeling, alone.

In immortality.