He looked back at the clone, feeling Reeve’s skeptic gaze on his back. He ignored it. He was sure. There was no soul there, nothing for him to take to the Lifestream. It was another empty shell. But the rest of it was real. The clone was agitated, hands fiddling in the cuffs, as if he didn’t know what to do without a cigarette between his fingers. His eyes were bloodshot, sleep-deprived the way Cid would be if he’d been running himself ragged, the way he always did when he was stressed. Between the lack of nicotine and the exhaustion, Vincent was surprised the clone wasn’t more upset.
And then came the curses. “Reeve! Hey! Fucktard! Let me outta this box already! I ain’t a fuckin’ prisoner! When I get my hands on yer little cat I’m gonna stuff him where the sun don’t—”
Reeve cut off the microphone for the interrogation room. “He keeps doing that,” he said, wiping his hand over his face. He turned his back to the room, finally unable to bear the sight. “I… Vincent, when you told me, I never realized…”
"That it would be this real?" Vincent said quietly.
Reeve looked back at him, stricken, and Vincent sighed. He gave the clone one last look and turned away. “The first clone had months to fool you. You were so used to thinking of him as ‘Cid’ that when he was gone, it was like a bad dream. It faded. This nightmare is only beginning.”
This is my favorite chapter. Also, probably one of the best ones in the fic.
now go read it