Section 2

What had he done?

Cloud Strife hugged his knees, slowly rocking back and forth on the small bunk that took up almost half of the small cell in which he was trapped. He couldn’t believe his memory, but, for once, he knew it was true. He blinked back the tears that threatened to spill forth. What had he done?

Cid was dead. He had seen it with his own eyes, had committed the crime with his own hands and his own weapon. His anger at a dead man killed one of the best friends he had ever had. Why had he killed Cid? It was a muddled mystery, the reasons as clear as mud. He could not believe that he had mistaken the warm-hearted, good-natured pilot for Sephiroth; he could not believe that there was anything in the world that would make him believe what his memories had told him.

He stared down at his hands, his heart wrenching with the agony of his personal anguish. He couldn’t be trusted by anyone lest he run them through with his huge sword. When at last he thought he could be the same as he was before he left Nibelheim, he found he was unreliable, insecure. He couldn’t trust people to trust him. He couldn’t trust himself.

The tears came unbidden and unwanted.

He didn’t want to be this way, to be so afraid of himself. What would he do next? Kill Tifa? If he could not live with the knowledge of murdering Cid, of stabbing the pilot in the back, what would he do if he were to hurt Tifa? His actions no doubt hurt her right now. He angrily wiped the tears away, running a hand through his blond hair.

What was he going to do?

Sitting here in solitude, feeling sorry for himself, wasn’t going to help him or Tifa. But there wasn’t anything else he could do. Guilt threatened to tear him apart. What could you do when you found out you were nothing more than a murderer, killing for no good reason, acting on a whim? He hadn’t felt this horrible since Aeris had died.

Aeris.

The name was a curse, given to him by chance. He should have never agreed to be her bodyguard that day. Why had he? All that had come from that meeting was dissension and anguish. The battles it had brought were too fresh in his mind, the personal conflict and Sephiroth’s illusionary world. It hurt too much to remember the grief caused by her death and the pain caused by Sephiroth. The events of last night were only another never-ending tale of sadness and anguish, seeming the story of his life. Cloud Strife. His name said it all.

And now Aeris was back from the dead, causing him a pain more acute than anything Sephiroth could have done. He had stopped Sephiroth. How could he stop some one that could make him destroy those closest to him? Not even Sephiroth could have done that. But, somehow, Aeris could and did, and Cid was dead because of his weakness. Never again.

The Planet was laughing at him and his folly. To think that he could stand up against the evil Sephiroth had thrown at him and forget the man after his death was foolish. His hatred made him strong when he fought Sephiroth. It was now his weakness. Aeris had shown him that. Somehow, in her death, she had known.

What trick had the Ancients played on him? He shook his head angrily, rubbing his temples. Aeris was dead, as mortal as any human. She had found her Promised Land and saved the Planet. Why did she live? Had she come back to haunt him because he could not save her from Sephiroth? Was she here to show him the pain Shinra had caused her? Why? Nothing made sense anymore. He bit the inside of his lower lip until he the metallic taste of his blood stung his tongue. Why would she do this?

She is mad. Insanity.

He frowned at the words the Planet whispered to him on the small wind of a wafting breeze. Her smile returned to him. She had been smiling until the end. Did that count as insanity? Welcoming death? She was not the same Aeris, he knew that much. Where Aeris had been warm and sweet, there was nothing but cold and hatred, a demeanor that sourly reminded him of Sephiroth. He frowned. She could be another clone, bred on hatred and driven by madness. He snorted. Not likely.

He looked up as the door to his cell opened, revealing the woman in his thoughts. Aeris. She stood in the doorway, her pink dress clinging to her in all the right places. She was beautiful, her long brown hair tied away from her cherubic face, revealing perfectly shaped, emerald eyes. She was as he remembered her.

But she was dead.

"You died," he said, watching her cautiously. "Sephiroth killed you."

She nodded, walking into the cell, sitting on the edge of the bed opposite from him. "I’m not real," she agreed. "But I am alive. More so than before, I believe. Do you think I’d lose my Destroyer so easily? I still owe you a date."

Cloud’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You’re not Aeris. You don’t owe me anything."

Anger became transfixed on her face. "I am Aeris!" she ordained. "I am better than Aeris. Where she was weak, I now have power!" She pursed her lips. "I have seen the Promised Land and we will have it together, Destroyer."

He stood up, his own anger claiming him. "Stop calling me that! I’m not a destroyer, yours or anyone else’s!"

She stared at him, her green eyes sparkling with thought. She noted his reaction, a small smile forming on her lips due to his anger. He would be strong, strong enough to hold up her empire and destroy those who sought to take her power. His blue eyes gleamed furiously at her smile.

"You already are a destroyer," she stated, her voice simple and nonchalant, her anger gone. She calmly straightened a wrinkle in her dress, her eyes veiled by the long strands of hair framing her face. "You have already killed many."

"No! That was out of necessity. Something you could not understand."

Her smile widened. "When you killed Sephiroth at the Mako Reactor on Mt. Nibel? Was that necessity? It speaks more to revenge and less to chivalry. You can’t tell me that when you threw him from that bridge you were thinking about the Planet and those who lived on it. I know what you were thinking. You were thinking that he had taken so much from you. He had burned you town, he had killed Zack, and mortally wounded Tifa for sure. You weren’t thinking about the Planet; you weren’t worried about the world. You wanted to take something back so you took his life. You were the Destroyer."

He shook his head. "That’s not the same."

"Oh, isn’t it? Let me try something else. What drove you to chase Sephiroth throughout the world? Were you trying to save the Planet from Meteor? Or trying to take something back? Was it for the world? Or was it for Aeris? For Tifa? It was for Nibelheim. It was for the same reasons you first killed Sephiroth. He had taken more from you. You were angry; you wanted to kill him for what he had done to you, the torture and pain he had caused."

"No."

"No? Saving the Planet was only a nice, special addition. If you were to be a hero by taking out your wrath, then why not? To defeat Sephiroth, it became your purpose in life. And, when you faced him, you took out your anger out on him, took out your wrath. Your revenge was your passion and your passion killed Sephiroth. You were the Destroyer."

"No, that’s not true."

"Isn’t it? How about last night? Sephiroth still haunts you, doesn’t he? A little suggestion was all your mind needed. You had to kill him again, didn’t you? A thousand deaths will never be enough payment for what he took from you."

"No! Just shut up! Shut up!"

"Sephiroth can never give back what he stole. He can never give back that piece of you that burned with Nibelheim, that piece of you that died with Aeris, and that piece of you that he took with his death. Your passion," she spat, her voice cold. "And now you have nothing left, no purpose in life. Your life died with Sephiroth. You have no more pieces of yourself to lose; he has taken them all. It is why you linger on revenge. It is why you continue to destroy. You are the Destroyer."

"Just shut up," Cloud muttered as he sat back down on the edge of the bed, his head buried in his hands. "Leave me alone."

"You have killed your friend because of your hatred. Cid Highwind no longer exists due to a simple word, one insignificant name. Sephiroth. Do you feel the anger boiling in your veins? What will happen the next time you lose control at that name? Sephiroth. Who will you kill, Destroyer? Who will pay for the sins of a dead man? Barret Wallace? Vincent Valentine? Or Tifa? Your beloved Tifa. May she rest in peace, Destroyer."

She stood, walking gracefully to the door. She turned back to Cloud, a small smile playing on her lips as she looked him over. He would learn to harness that anger. She could teach him; she could show him the Promised Land. He could fight, but he would face the truth. Her smile lingered on her features. The truth was cold, biting hard and swiftly, sneaking up on the unsuspecting liars that were bred into each of them. He would come around. He would see the power of the Cetra and the power she could give him. He would see the Promised Land which the Planet would become. He would be her champion of life and destroy those who sought to stop her. He would destroy his friends as easily as he had run Highwind through with the Ultima Weapon. Her smile turned to a frown. The first step to the Promised Land had failed as that act of murder had failed. But Cloud did not know that. Cloud would still give whatever life he had left to her, pledge his sword to her, and be given the power in return. The Ancients’ power. It was hers to give and use. Her ancestors would be pleased.

She turned back out of the room, closing the door behind her with a small click. Cloud didn’t look up at the door as it closed, like a door closing on his life. He had killed his friends, and she was right. He was an uncontrollable cyclone of anger, venting his wrath on those who came too close. They would not hurt him as Sephiroth had. He knew he was giving into her by even listening to her words. But how could he ignore the truths she had spoken?

What had he done?

 

The throbbing in his head was overwhelming, pounding in time with his heartbeat. His heartbeat? Well, he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t quite alright, but he wasn’t dead. He took a deep breath, his lungs aching, his entire body aching, and let it out slowly. He blinked his eyes open, focussing on the ceiling of a room he could not remember entering. He tried to sink back into the cushioned surface he was laying on, his muscles tense and sore. He closed his eyes against the dim light in the room, attempting to block away the ache. His attempts were futile.

"God, I need a cigarette," he declared, his voice raspy from disuse. The throbbing continued. He cleared his dry throat. "And a drink." He thought for a moment. "A stiff drink."

Tifa Lockhart looked up from the chair she was sitting in, a smile lighting up her features. It was the first time in days she had heard a sane remark spoken from Cid Highwind, and it almost made her cry in relief. He had been delirious since they had found him, lashing out and screaming despite having been impaled. When Barret had brought him back to Seventh Heaven, she believed he was as good as dead. Something had saved him, a crystal globe, now blackened and shattered. And, then, she thought he had gone mad.

She stood, her chair scraping on the wooden floor of the tavern. Her footsteps were silent as she sauntered to the bed where Cid lay. She gave him a genuine smile, praying to anybody who cared to listen that he recognize her. Her very presence during his fever had sent him thrashing and yelling, struggling to get away from her. It had been unnerving and slightly terrifying. She hoped she would never have to go through that again.

He locked his eyes on hers and she saw relief wash across his face. "Tifa," he breathed. "Get me a cigarette. Please."

She could not break her gaze, her eyes widening in surprise.She couldn’t believe what she saw in those eyes and didn’t want to look at them for fear what she saw was true. It couldn’t be true. "What happened to you?" she whispered on an exhale of breath. The eyes she looked into glowed bright blue with their own inner light. Mako eyes.

He opened his mouth, but didn’t answer. He closed it again and shook his head as the memories evaded him. What had happened? Flashes of a battle passed through his mind, tidbits of events that could have been from any time in the past.

"I’m not sure," he muttered, pushing himself up. Tifa attempted to keep him in bed, a slight apprehensive expression on her face. He brushed her away, grimacing with the pounding pain cracking through his brain. He set his bare feet on the floor, the wood surprisingly warm to his touch. "You tell me?"

She didn’t respond, watching him flex his left hand cautiously, his face twisted in pain. There seemed to be nothing she could say to him. He was clueless. He didn’t remember what had happened before or after Barret had brought him here. He didn’t seem to know about the anguish he had caused her, forcing her to stay away from him and to bottle up the guilt she felt. She had sent him after Cloud; it had been her fault he had been run through by the Shinra. She had nothing to say. Silence reigned.

"What happened to Cloud?" she asked, the question hitting her from nowhere. Cloud had disappeared the night they had found Cid with no sign of where he had gone or even if it had been by choice.

Cid’s head snapped up at the mention of Cloud, his neck cracking painfully. He ignored the shock running down his back as a flash of memory came back to him. The Ultima Weapon, the bloody blade sticking from his chest. He rubbed his eyes, squeezing them shut, his jaw clenched. No, he couldn’t be remembering it right. His heart throbbed where the sword had cut through it, and he rubbed the spot with one hand, feeling his heart beat beneath the white tunic that had replaced his blood-soaked shirt. Cloud wouldn’t have done that.

"What is it?"

Tifa’s voice brought him back to the present. His gaze landed on her reddish eyes, searching them. He couldn’t tell her what he remembered; he couldn’t tell the woman Cloud was going to marry. He just wasn’t remembering it right. It had been someone else who had stabbed him. A soft voice drifted through his head, a saddened sound. Cloud killed you, the voice said softly. It was Aeris’ voice. He bit his lower lip and looked away from Tifa. No, Aeris was dead. He killed you. I saved you, Cid. He rested his elbows on his knees, taking a shuddering breath. It wasn’t true.

"What’s wrong?"

It couldn’t be true. Aeris’ sad face floated before his vision, her large emerald eyes full of tears. Cloud took his sword and ran you through, she said, her lips moving but no sound coming out. Somehow, he knew what she was saying. I am dead, but I could save you. You were dead, and I called you back. Look at your hand. He didn’t look, afraid of what he might see, remembering the burning from the globe. From Aeris’ globe. Instead, he moved his gaze to the hard wooden floor. Aeris had tried to kill him, tried to trick him. He would not listen to her. I speak the truth. The voice grew pleading. Listen to me, Cid.

He took another breath. "No."

Tifa frowned, shaking the pilot’s shoulder, her apprehension replaced with growing concern. Cid’s eyes were unfocussed, staring miles away at something only he could see. It was as though he were no longer in the room, sitting on the bed in front of her. She frowned.

"Don’t do this to me, Cid," she said, ignoring the one word he had muttered. "I need you."

"No," he breathed. He was cursed. He cupped his hands over his ears, shaking his head slowly as the voice of Aeris pleaded with him to listen. He closed his eyes, but she was still there, her eyes wide and imploring. Her lips moved in silent words. He ground his teeth. "I’m not gonna listen to you." Her words continued. "Aeris, shut up!"

Tifa reeled back on her heels, losing her balance in her surprise, stopping mid-sentence. She fell back onto her behind, her back coming up against the wall. Her chin quivered and she bit her lower lip. What had she done to him by sending him after Cloud? Whatever had happened had driven him mad. Completely mad.

Aeris’ lips stopped moving and tears streamed from her green eyes. She attempted to blink them away, but her efforts were futile. Wiping them from her eyes with her knuckles, she disappeared from his view, dissolving into the blackness of his closed eyelids. Her voice left his thoughts, leaving him alone in his mind. He cautiously unclenched his teeth, opening his eyes. The black faded away to the dim light of the bedroom above the bar. His breath caught in his throat.

Tifa was staring at him as if she had never seen him, her back pressed tightly into the wall as if she wanted to disappear into it. He felt his heart begin to pound, his face reddening in shame. Had he spoken aloud? What had he said? He looked down at his hands, rubbing the pulse in his left palm, slowly shaking his head, wishing he could just wake up from this nightmare.

"I’m sorry, Tifa," he declared, breaking the silence. There didn’t seem enough words to express his guilt. "I – I’m sorry."

She took a shaky breath, slowly exhaling as she pushed herself back onto her heels, resting her hand on his knees. She gazed into his brightened blue eyes, searching them. "Why did you call me that?" she whispered, her voice cracking. He stared back, opening his mouth to respond, but having nothing to say.

Tifa hadn’t been expecting an answer. She merely nodded and stood, breaking her gaze. Her eyes landed on Barret who stood in the doorway, a frown on his features. Tifa bit the inside of her cheek, pulling her hand from his knee and walking away from him.

Inside his head, Aeris silently cried.

Cloud couldn’t see a thing.

Darkness enveloped his entire line of vision and, for a moment, he wasn’t sure if his eyes were even open. He could’ve sworn they were, but the lack of light in the room was complete. There were no obscure shadows, no indefinable silhouettes that his eye could pick up. There was not even a trace of light, almost as though the entire world had become a lurid black. With the darkness, there was cold.

He couldn’t remember getting to this room, the chilling surface behind him cold to the touch, raising gooseflesh on his arms. It was as if the warmth had been scourged from the room, forced away like the light had been. He was reminded of the North Cave, the frigid wind whistling through the darkened snowy tunnels, his personal hell after he had given Sephiroth the Black Materia. He had been more alone then than he had ever been because of Sephiroth.

He felt the blood pumping through his body quicken with his wrath. Funny how that name could still hold so much power over him even now that it was almost a month to the day after the death of that name. It was ironic how that name could still make his heart beat faster, could still make adrenaline rush through his veins. He could almost taste the fear and hatred that name carried with it, it was so tangible, so real. But there was nothing he could do with that fear and hatred; Sephiroth was dead, taking Aeris with him. He could only bottle it up inside him until there was too much anger to hold anymore and he snapped, killing someone. He couldn’t hold back a shudder, a realization striking him that was colder than air around him. Aeris was right. He was nothing without Sephiroth. He was a destroyer.

He had spent two months looking for Sephiroth, relentlessly hunting him down. Before that, there hadn’t been a day he could remember when he had not thought of the man who had burned his town. Even when he had been wrong in his memories, he couldn’t stop thinking of Sephiroth. Aeris had seen the truth before any had realized his folly, before even he had considered his anger his weakness. Why hadn’t he seen it? Why hadn’t he realized his mistake before it became something that he could not repair? He cursed himself and the stupid misjudgments that had killed Cid. There was nothing left for him but his anger. He would kill with his anger; he could kill others because of a dead man.

His mind almost laughed at the irony of it all. One of the few emotions he had ever truly known was his undoing. He had lived a substantial amount of his life in anger, anger at his father for dying, anger at Tifa for being a relatively happy child, anger at himself for never being given that choice or never taking it, and, worst of all, anger at Sephiroth for taking everything away. To think that he, a man who had rarely known happiness and love should expect to find it after hating for so long… it was ludicrous. His lips twisted at the mocking cruelty of his life.

"I don’t think I’d be smiling if I were you," a voice declared, unidentifiable and enigmatic. The man who had spoken could not see his smile if it were dark. He tensed. Why couldn’t he see anything?

Cloud shuddered as the strangest sensation rolled over him, prickling his goose flesh. This… this had happened before. He was sure of it. Like a memory surfacing in the tangled knot of the past, the strangest recollection of this occurring once before wracked over him, frightening him more. And then it vanished as if it had never came.

"Just hold still, this’ll only take a minute."

Cloud attempted to turn his head to where he thought the speaker could be but found he couldn’t move either. He grit his teeth in anger. What did they think they were doing with him? Playing some sort of game? He wasn’t in the mood, clenching and unclenching his fists, his twisted smile dissolving from his face.

A cold hand grasped his arm, and he unsuccessfully tried to pull it away. Whatever they were holding him down with was too strong to be broken by even the strongest man’s muscles. The cold hand grasped harder, pressing a firm grip over his elbow, preventing his arm from jerking.

"Hold still," the voice growled. "You’ll be better than new in a moment."

Better than new?! Cloud wanted to scream at the voice that he was as good as he was going to get, but a sharp pinprick broke his thoughts. And then he did scream, but not out of anger or frustration; his cry of pain reverberated through the room.

It was as if a live fire had been injected into his blood stream, searing and burning him from the inside out. It started in his arm, the fiery agony racing to his fingertips and back again, running to his heart. The core of his being wrenched with the torture as it unknowingly pumped the blazing pain further through his body in a manner of seconds.

He writhed in his bonds as if moving could somehow snuff the flames burning inside his blood. They held tight, unrelenting to his throes of pain, but he struggled anyway, unable to feel the bruising he knew he was receiving by futilely battling them. Somewhere he knew his actions were useless, but his coherent thought had given out the moment the pain had reached his head.

Where there once was dark, now there was red, the crimson color of his blood and of the imaginary fire blazing within him. It was the color that could best describe the rage he often felt against Sephiroth; it was the color of heated anger and the color of the afterimage left by brightened lights. It was the fiery wrath he had thrived on and which now threatened to consume him. Tired of fighting and pain, he let it do so, succumbing to the very thing he had only recently sworn to never let control him again. He would not let his anger kill another. The next victim might be himself.

He laughed, a mad cackle, his voice raspy from the screams he could not remember letting loose. How funny it would be if the thing that had killed Sephiroth killed him in the end. How funny it would be for them both to die by the same hatred. His laugh rose until he had no more breath left to even manage a chuckle. He wheezed for air, unable to get enough into his lungs, but unable to stop his insane chortle.

There was nothing he could do. He could neither escape himself nor his hatred. Why fight an undefeatable foe? With no chance of winning the battle and no hope of a promise from death to take him quickly after his loss, why fight? He envied Cid; he envied Sephiroth. He envied their deaths, wishing that this suffering could end and he would go quietly into the night.

His laugh cut off, tears falling down the side of his face, his chuckle turning into silent cries. What had he done to deserve this? The darkness continued to surround him, choking him and slowly draining the life from the fiery agony. Why should he suffer like this, condemned to drain in a river of his own hate? His cries fell on deaf ears within the darkness. He lashed out with one foot, hopelessly sobbing at his own helplessness.

"Why?!"

The word carried through the halls of the building he was trapped in, carried on a breath of wind. Sitting at a desk in front of the corporation’s new president’s office, a secretary glanced up as her papers rustled in a soft breeze. After a moment, when no sound followed the cry, she shrugged it off and returned to her work.

 

Cid Highwind stared into the steaming, brown liquid Marlene had set before him, a frown painted on his features. He glanced over to the young girl, eyebrows raised in a silent question. She smiled a lopsided grin.

"What’s this?" he asked, returning his gaze to the hot drink before him. "This don’t look lika martini. I thought you could shake up a good one of those."

"You shouldn’t drink any alcohol in your decrepit condition," she declared, her smile not faltering. Cid frowned at Barret.

"First I’m old and now I’m decrepit," he said, a thoughtful note in his voice. "What kinda kid you raisin’ here?"

Marlene giggled and walked away, summoned by a man sitting alone in the corner. Cid watched her go before taking a tentative sip of the steaming liquid. He was unable to hold back a grimace. Tea. When was the last time he had had tea? The drink was scalding hot, but he took a longer sip, letting the warmth slowly traveling down his throat. He remembered when he had last had a cup of tea. It had been at Shera’s. The name made him set the cup back down on the table with a dull thud. He closed his eyes and shook his head, thinking back to the conversation he and Cloud had had in the Wall Market. Cloud… Aeris’ voice was softly whispering the name to him, reminding him of the events that night. His jaw set in anger. Why should he listen to Aeris?

Damn it, why should I even think about listening to you, Aeris? You’re the cause of all this *&%$. When the voice was silent in his head, his hands clenched into fists. I’m even talking to myself! I’m going completely nuts! I wish I had never even met you.

You don’t wish that, Cid, she whispered. And you’re not going insane.

I’m having a conversation with a dead girl inside my head! You don’t call that crazy?! I’d say this is a little more serious than Cloud’s whacked-out episodes! You’re dead, but you were right there.

That wasn’t me.

The hell it wasn’t! What? I’m blind now, too? He shook his head sadly, unclenching his fists and wrapping them around the cup in front of him. Just… shut up.

"You gonna tell us or what?" Barret asked. "I am a little fond of that spiky-haired freak, and I’m just about runnin’ outta patience."

Cid looked up at the other man, carefully masking his surprise. He didn’t remember ever agreeing to say anything; he certainly didn’t want to say anything about it. He frowned. It was too damn confusing. Nothing he remembered made sense.

Tell them. It’s the truth.

His frown deepened before quickly disappearing. He feigned ignorance. "Tell you what?"

Barret almost exploded. "Tell us what?!" He snorted. "Tell us what. What the hell you think we wanna hear? The freakin’ story of your life?" He shook his head. "*&%$."

"What happened to Cloud?" Tifa asked suddenly. She quickly closed her mouth as Cid turned his gaze onto her. How she hated looking into those eyes. The rest of the people sitting around the table pretended not to notice, were not openly affected by it. She forced herself not to look away from him and his sorrowful, Mako eyes.

He seemed to sense her discomfort and looked away from her and down into the translucent depths of his tea, his expression sadly guilt-stricken. "I dunno," he declared. "I wish I did, but I got… I was outta it before that, you know?"

No one said anything, each person mulling over their own thoughts. "Why don’t you start from the beginning?" Red XIII suggested, watching him curiously with his one eye.

Cid didn’t look up, his brow furrowed. "We went to the Wall Market." Expecting a derogatory comment from Barret or Tifa, he paused, slightly surprised when none came. "We headed back at, uh…" He shrugged. "A coupla three hours later or something. I wasn’t exactly lookin’ at a clock."

"And?"

Cid ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the place on his forehead where his flight goggles normally sat, suddenly feeling like he was being interrogated. Even the background noise had dropped to an almost imperceptible sound. He looked at the faces of the people around the table. "We, ah, started back through Sector 6."

"Which part?"

Cid’s gaze angrily snapped to Red. "For crying out loud! How the hell am I supposed to know that?! It was dark, it was late, and it wasn’t exactly under the best of circumstances!"

"Calm down," Tifa said softly, her reddish eyes clouded over in concern. "No one’s asking you to remember what color eyes your attacker had. Red’s just a little… nit-picky."

Red XIII snorted at the remark, glancing at Tifa before looking back to Cid. The pilot shook his head slowly. "I’m sorry, Red. This entire thing’s just pissin’ me off."

They were blue. Tell them. Cid’s jaw clenched in renewed anger. Shut up, Aeris! he wanted to scream but continued instead. "We stopped at that playground. You know, that one with the big dome slide thing…"

Red nodded. "That corresponds to where we found you. We must’ve found you relatively shortly after the fight, but the rain washed most of the evidence away. You were almost dead. In fact, I would say that had we not found you when we did, you would most undoubtedly be dead right now. Mmm…"

Cid glanced sharply at the beast. "You wanna hear this or go through the minute details of my death?"

Red XIII’s eye narrowed. "Death? Interesting that you should call it that. Now, that I think of it…" Cid rolled his eyes, mouthing a curse as he looked away. Red grinned sheepishly, a gesture grossly out of place on his face. "Sorry."

"Well, did ya see who attacked ya?" Barret asked, taking a sip of the beer in front of him. Cid sighed, slowly spinning the cup in front of him, a troubled expression on his face. "You know who?"

He shrugged. "I thought I did. Now I’m not so sure." Aeris’ voice seemed to reverberate in his skull. Tell them! It was Aeris, but not me. It was a clone. Cid snorted. "She’s dead," he muttered to himself, as if that was enough to contradict the voice in his head. "It doesn’t matter," he said to the group, leaning back in his chair.

Red nodded, slowly soaking up the information. "Okay. Shinra…?"

Cid smiled crookedly. "One. You’d think there’d have been more than that." He looked at the door, then back to Red. "I killed him."

"I hate to break it to ya, buddy, but there must’ve been more than that. You kill the Shinra, what’s left?" Barret asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Shadows." His voice grew cold. "It was black. I really couldn’t see what they were, Barret." He looked to Red. "I really don’t want to talk anymore. Can I go now?"

"No. Look here," Barret ordered, his face hard. "You’re gonna tell us what happened, and you’re gonna tell us straight. ’Nuff of this screwin’ around."

"Look, Barret. Cloud did that Omnislash or whatever the hell you call it, and they all went down the can. She started screwin’ with his head and then…" His voice trailed off as he realized what he was going to say next. His jaw clenched shut. He would not tell Tifa what had happened, not now. He couldn’t help the pained expression starting to surface on his face. He couldn’t be remembering it right. God, he couldn’t.

The truth hurts, Cid, Aeris declared, her own voice pain-filled. Tell it as it was.

I’m not remembering it right! That can’t be true! He wouldn’t have done that! Not to me… not to his friend. He bit his lower lip to stop the tears from forming in his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he had hurt so much. Why can’t you leave me alone?

"Cid, you can tell us," Tifa explained, her hand clenching his arm. "Then what happened?"

He looked at her for a long time, knowing that she had seen the pain reflected in his eyes. I’m wrong. But why did it seem so right? The gleam of the Ultima Weapon, the warm rush of blood from his body. Cid could still see that horrible expression on Cloud’s face when he realized what he had done almost as though it was locked into his memory forever.

"Nothing," he declared, clearing his throat to keep it from cracking. "Nothing happened. I – I don’t remember." He stood, his muscles aching. He shook her hand from his arm, attempting a nonchalant shrug and a grin, but failing miserably. "It started raining." Then he walked away.

Barret frowned at Cid’s retreating back, his face tight with anger. "The hell he think he’s trying to pull here?!" he demanded, slamming his clenched fist down onto the table. "He thinks he’s all that, right?! Like we ain’t gotta right to know. Son of a bitch!"

Tifa shook her head, watching the steam slowly drift up from the cooling tea. She had seen the hurt expression on his face when he had suddenly realized what he was saying or going to say. What could possible hurt so much? Who could do that to someone? Her mouth slowly opened in shock, a sudden realization hitting her like a bucket of cold water. She’s dead. His words reverberated through her skull, those from a few minutes ago and those from before. Aeris? No, get away from me!… Aeris, shut up! Her eyes widened.

"He thinks it’s Aeris," she muttered.

"The hell you talkin’ ’bout?"

"What did you say?" Red XIII asked, turning his yellow-eyed gaze to her.

She looked up at them both, looking between them. "He thinks it’s Aeris that attacked them!"

Barret frowned again. "Man, you gotta screw loose. You and him both. Aeris ain’t alive no more."

She laughed, an insane chuckle. "Can’t you see? It all makes perfect sense!"

Barret shook his head, taking a long swallow from his beer. "Damn. I knew that spiky-haired freak wuz a bad ’fluence on ya. Everybody’s nuts."

"No," Red stated, his eye narrowed in thought. "Maybe Tifa’s onto something. Cid knows Aeris is dead, but somehow remembers her as his attacker. It questions the credibility of the memories themselves which could explain his unwillingness to tell us them. Maybe it’s not that he doesn’t want us to know, but isn’t sure what he remembers is true." Red glanced at the other two people around the table. "Which brings us to the next question: if not Aeris, then who?"

Tifa shrugged, leaning back in her seat with a sigh. "The only probably conclusion we can draw is that Shinra has something to do with this."

"Right. Cid may not think he remembers that right, but no matter what he recalls, we can not disregard the hard evidence. The dead Shinra commando was the only thing recovered at the playground besides Cid himself. I think to answer this question, we may need an informant on the inside."

Tifa nodded her agreement. "Reeve."

Barret pounded his fist onto the hardwood table again, his anger resurfacing. "No way! I ain’t understood any of that crap yous were talkin’ ’bout, but we ain’t bringing the Shinra in on this. Reeve’s already shown his double-crossing *&%$ with that fat cat trick. He ain’t to be trusted."

Tifa merely glared at Barret once before promptly ignoring him. "I think maybe we ought to call Vincent and Yuffie to Midgar as well. We’re going to need all the help we can get."

Barret’s face was turning an ugly shade of dark red. He rounded on Tifa. "Now you want the Turk, too! The hell’s gotten inta you?! Neither of ’em has stuck their head out where’s it coulda gotten cut off. You gonna give up the upper hand we got by bringing them fools in." Tifa’s jaw was set in determination, and Barret frowned at her. She was not going to give into his wishes, not with Cloud’s life at stake. His brow furrowed, he buried his face deep into his beer.

© Junj, 1998

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