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"Where are we?" he asked, a little worried at how quiet his voice was. But it wasn't that he was fading, his voice was just getting lost in the wind that whipped around them.

"Close," his rescuer replied, reaching a black-gloved hand back. While he knew he should be wary of the strange world he'd ended up on, he couldn't help wanting to trust this man. Somewhere in the back of his mind, in the memories that weren't his but felt like his, this man meant something and was something and all of it was really deep and complex.

Finally, in the bleak and windy world, they crossed a ridge that concealed a small town. And not long after, he found himself with a blanket around his shoulders in front of a crackling fire.

"So who are you, anyway?" the man asked, eerily glowing green eyes holding him. "A clone of him?"

"Something like that," he replied. "But it wasn't my choice! I never asked to be like this!"

The force of his words surprised him.

"Do you have his memories?" Dark gloves came off and he found himself fixated on those hands. He knew what those hands could do and without thinking, he let them run the lines of his face, through his hair, down over his shoulders.

"Some... Yes... Sephiroth... I... I don't have a name..." he wanted to keep the warmth, wanted to keep Sephiroth's hands on him, wanted...

"Is that what you want? I'll give you anything... I can help you find your way to being somebody, all on your own. Just stay with me..."

Nodding, he wondered what Sephiroth would name him. Vexen hadn't given him his own name, hadn't even given him a project number or some sort of anything to differenciate him from the Real Thing...

"I'll stay with you. How did you know I was out there?"

There was no answer, just hands, lips... This he could remember, his body but not his body, this... the Real Thing had run. He would not.