Disclaimer: I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

Story notes: Not a typical fandom for me, but the 'Cloud goes back in time' story seems to be pretty obligatory, so here's my take. Enjoy!

"Positions, everyone."

Cloud moved into his position in the middle of the diagram. Only the centre of the room was lit, giving the illusion that they were standing in an endless field of black. He shivered, and he knew it wasn't a result of the cold.

He could still stop this. Refuse to go any further with it until they actually made proper plans. Plans that would work.

Except… well, except. The first time he had spoken up, they'd reassured him gently that they'd kill Hojo before locking him in a Shinra lab. That he needn't fear being experimented on again. That he'd be safe. Cloud wasn't as naïve as they took him for. He knew that Hojo was a symptom of Shinra arrogance, not the cause. He knew that everyone had the capacity for evil. He knew it could just as easily be another researcher in Hojo's place. He knew, even without that, that no one could guarantee safety. But as long as they thought it was his fear speaking, they weren't listening to his arguments. He couldn't even be upset with them. Cloud himself didn't know – didn't really, deep-down alone by himself in the dark know – that it wasn't the fear speaking. And Cloud would rather relive his torture than be thought a coward by the people he had vowed to protect.

"Thirty seconds."

So he wouldn't protest. The Second Calamity was gaining strength second by second, and no one knew how long they had left to perform REWIND. The Planet itself had given it to them, and he was not going to gainsay the will of the Planet. And perhaps... perhaps nothing would go wrong. Perhaps he was just over-sensitive. Perhaps there wasn't really that much danger in leaving JENOVA alive. Perhaps he was underestimating the morals, skill and organisation of AVALANCHE and they would make excellent guardians of humanity and the Planet. Perhaps he was just objecting to no longer having that role himself.

"Fifteen seconds."

And even if he was right, and they did fail well, time enough in the past to make new plans. Time they didn't have now. The seconds ticking down to the end of the world weren't very much bigger than the count down. He would go through with it.

If he needed to step in and become the saviour once again, he'd do that. He hadn't let the planning go on entirely without him. He was the acknowledged 'Saviour of the Planet', for all that they treated him like he was fragile and child-like. Various preparations had been made, and various promises had been given. Every possible tool he could think of to find another solution was included. He would make it work. He always did.

"Ten, nine, eight..."

He bit his lip, trying not to think about being naked in front of these people. Trying not to think about the possibility of failure. Trying not to think about the possibility of success.

"...three, two, REWIND."

A final breath, and the green strands flowed around him and through him. Soon he could see nothing else, be nothing else. A brief scream – from him or someone else in the circle, he couldn't tell – before screaming became impossible. A second (an eternity) later, thought was mercifully similarly cut short. Slowly, gracefully, agonisingly, he disintegrated into the green.

Cloud fought his way to back consciousness, not letting the soothing darkness take him. They'd planned for this. They'd rehearsed this. He had things to do – or he was dead. He sat up and opened his eyes. He grabbed the sheets and almost collapsed again. His eyes prickled with the overflow of emotion. Somehow, despite all the preparations, despite all the pain, he hadn't expected it to work. But it had, and here he was, decades in the past.

It was a room he hadn't even been able to picture for years, but now the familiarity of his childhood rattled his emotions. He tried to dash away the moisture in his eyes, and slapped into his cheek instead. That hadn't been in the rehearsal. He had to stick to the script. He mentally sung the complex songs they'd chosen for him and tried to think as little as possible. He faltered once when trying to open a door and placed his hand nowhere near the handle, but overall he was successful in leaving the operation of his body in the hands of his himself-as-child subconscious. He slipped out of his room and then out the house.

He made it two-thirds of the way to Shinra mansion before the confusion of instincts and influx of Mako combined to reduce him to a sobbing ball on the ground. He was supposed to be stronger than this. The task was going to be difficult enough with him at his best. He could not afford to indulge in his own weaknesses. He dragged himself to his feet but didn't even make two more steps before landing back on the ground.

What if he failed? What if he came all this way and was immediately killed on this mountainside by a monster? What if he lived through the night but Tseng didn't get here with the poor lifeless Cloud clone to make the swap? What if none of the equipment had made it through with them? What if no one else had made it? What if he was actually dead and this was just a dream? Cloud was vaguely aware that he was hysterical, but the knowledge did not help. The more he tried to hold on to his rationality, the faster it slipped away.

He woke again to the inside of a Mako tube. Whoever would have imagined he would be relieved to find himself in one? But now, it was proof that the rest of the plan was going ahead. Now there was nothing he could do to change that. No escape left. He had nothing to do now but do his best.

As far as Cloud could tell, he was alone. He couldn't hear anything, even when he held his breath. The Shinra mansion was silent except for the susurration of machines. Tseng must have come and gone, leaving Cloud in his tube, Vincent in his coffin and a Hojo's booby trap in his office. Cloud wondered if Tseng had even tried to wake him and speak to him. Had the place reawakened Tseng's guilt over the death of Zack or had this just been yet another mission to the Turk? After all, the man had been prepared to hand Aerith over to Shinra, despite how well he knew Aerith. Was returning to Shinra a constant torment to Tseng, or a return home? It didn't really matter, except to Cloud's feeling of dislocation. Wherever Tseng's loyalties lay, killing Hojo was a good thing. It was selfish to ask for more.

Cloud drifted in the half-dream/half-wake induced by the Mako-laced liquid. He allowed himself to be numb to the passing of time. At last, sudden noise and excitement tempted him back to alertness. There was a great deal of running back and forth, but Cloud couldn't make out much. He thought (hoped?) he caught snippets about Hojo's death. Cloud strained even more against the pull of the darkness as two men who were not of the 'running and yelling' sort stopped in front of his tube.

"And this is supposed to control Sephiroth? A child?"

"The notes claim that physical contact will calm Sephiroth and stop the headaches. It'll be easy enough to test."

Cloud could not suppress a flinch. They had warned him about this. He'd even agreed. 'His' records would be full of suggestions to reduce the danger caused by Sephiroth's instability problems. And Cloud himself had vetoed any suggestion they let Shinra know how unusual all the Nibelheim kids were. Still, somehow he'd never made the logical connection that they were setting him up to spend time with Him. Lots of time with Him. Because it was going to work - physical contact with Cloud would keep Sephiroth calmer.

Cloud did not close his eyes. He could picture the aftermath of the massacre in perfect detail without needing to. To his shame, it was never the deaths that he pictured. After decades of fighting for the survival of the planet, deaths and bodies began to blur into each other. What he pictured was Sephiroth himself. Sephiroth, framed by the flames and looking utterly implacable. Sephiroth with all the certainty of purpose and disregard for others that Cloud found so impossible. Cloud's life until that point had been dedicated (devoted, transformed, distorted) to being more like Sephiroth in joyous admiration. From then on, it was dedicated to being more like Sephiroth in bitter envy.

Cloud knew rationally that Sephiroth had never been the fairy tale hero he had worshipped as a child, nor the fairy tale villain he had abhorred as an adult. And this wasn't the person who'd massacred his home village. Planet, this Sephiroth wasn't even in SOLDIER yet. Cloud couldn't hate Him. He hadn't done anything yet. Cloud would just have to get over his horror (hate, fear, awe) and continue.

"Does it have a name?"

I am not an it, Cloud told himself. I am myself, and no one can take that away from me without my consent.

"Well, yes and no. As far as we can tell he wasn't originally named anything, but Hojo prepared some documentation for him based on a child that recently died in the village. Cloud Strife. Looks like he was planning on bringing the kid back with him this trip."

"Will the documentation stand up?"

"Unless someone comes down here and interviews the mother, sure."

"Then we may as well use it. Get 'Cloud' ready to move."

Cloud took what comfort he could in keeping his name. He would have to take his victories were he could find them.

"We're going to try the alternative process, then, sir?"

"Of course. If we can get our super-soldiers without any of the stability issues, having to re-introduce the harvested cells every four years is a small price to pay. To be honest, it always bothered me that Hojo and Hollander's plans never allowed for the soldiers to leave the programme. It would have done hellish things to the morale to shoot them when we didn't want them anymore."

The two drifted out of Cloud's hearing, and he could let his expression match his mood. Oh yes, ShinRa were a wonderful bunch. And now he'd be living with them.