Section 4

Cloud stared darkly at the door of his cell from where he lay on the small bed shoved to one wall. The bed was too low to the ground to be of any use to him and bolted to the floor too strongly to be moved by mere muscle. It was, however, surprisingly soft and a nice, comfortable place to lay and watch the door. The door was smooth; there was no knob.

Against the other stark wall was a plain wash bowl and a toilet. Water dripped from the faucet, sliding down the sides of the bowl before disappearing down the drain. The pipes were rusted and weak but, as a previous test discovered, were still too strong to be broken and used as a weapon. The bowl and toilet were both metal instead of the porcelain which adorned the bathroom of his house in Costa del Sol. There were both affixed tightly to the floor and the wall. There was no mirror.

All four walls of the small cell were a plain, gloomy gray, marked only by one small ventilation shaft toward the ceiling above the door. The shaft was too far above the door to reach by hand and too far away from any of the stark furniture to reach by climbing. The vent was built as part of the wall as well; there were no screws nor nails that Cloud could see. The walls were not drywall; they could not be broken. There were no windows.

There was no place to run and no chance of escape.

It was just the type of cell Cloud liked best.

He stretched and set his arms behind his head, resting comfortably on the small bed. And he waited.

Vicks Rolon stretched and leaned against the wall, slouching restfully in his chair, his rifle braced across his knees. Guarding the all but empty cells was a thankless job, leaving him alone for twelve hours a day only to go home to an empty apartment to eat a lonely dinner, sleep in an desolate bed, and return to his thankless work the next morning. The pay wasn’t worth it; the boredom was, at most times, overpowering. One of these days, he vowed to quit this job and open some sort of shop, but he knew he never would. He was destined for boredom.

Piette Garrette was his only companion. Vicks glanced down the hall, running a hand through his black hair. Piette had left moments before on a trip that Vicks guessed was to visit with their only captive. The young man had found Cloud Strife to be one of the most interesting prisoners they had ever had. Considering the fact that they had only had two, and the other had been a corporate shark named Reavey – or Reave, or something like that – it was fated that the bored young guard be drawn the man who had destroyed Sephiroth.

Vicks shook his head. Socializing with prisoners could cost a guard his job, but, then again, this job wasn’t worth its weight in dust. He stood and stretched, glancing at his watch. Play time’s over, he thought, setting his rifle against the wall and unsnapping the button holding his handgun in its holster. He started down the hall, stopping in front of the door holding their solitary prisoner. He sorted through the keys on his key ring, stopping at the right one. He pushed it into the lock.

Cloud heard the keys jingling in the lock, and, slowly, he pushed himself off his cot, careful not to make a sound. This could be what he was waiting for and he didn’t want to blow it. He stood, silently walking to one side of the door. When that door opened, he’d be ready.

Vicks glanced down the hall, grabbing the door knob and slowly turning it. He slowly began pushing it open, one hand dropping to his gun, ready to draw and discharge it if the need aroused. He doubted it would, but it was better to be prepared.

As soon as the door was open far enough, Cloud grabbed its edge, yanking it in into the cell with all his strength. The guard stumbled forward with a surprised yelp, staggering into the room and fumbling for his gun. Cloud grabbed the guard’s head, pulling him off his feet and to the floor where Cloud violently twisted the guard’s neck. A barely audible crack filled the silent room. It was all over in a matter of seconds.

Cloud leaned down, pulling the handgun, an automatic, from where the dead guard had attempted to free it. He ejected the magazine, glancing at the bullets within it. It was fully loaded. Coldly, he slipped the magazine back into the gun and left the room.

Piette Garrette slowly walked back down the hall where both he and Vicks were assigned to watch a solitary prisoner, a cup of coffee in one hand. He whistled cheerfully as he walked down the hall and back to his post, although he found his job to be quite boring. His cheerfulness disappearing in a groan, he looked to Vicks’ chair, expecting to find the other man sitting just as he had left him. Vicks was nowhere to be seen.

Setting the coffee down onto his chair, Piette picked up the rifle leaning against the wall, glancing cautiously down the hall. "Vicks?" he asked, licking suddenly dry lips. "Vicks, where are ya?"

There was no response. The hall was empty and seemingly as he had left it, but Vicks would not have left his post, especially when they had a prisoner as dangerous as Cloud Strife. He checked the rifle to make sure it was loaded, hefting it up into the crotch of his shoulder and glancing down the sights.

"C’mon, Vicks! This ain’t funny no more. Where the hell’d ya go?" He peered down the hall, taking a tentative step, slowly viewing everything through the sight of the rifle. He began down the hall, his boots making a hollow sound on the metal floor. He never saw it coming.

Cloud heard the guard before he saw him. He peered around the corner of the hall, tightening his grip on the handgun when the blue-clad figure came into view. The guard was obviously a rookie and a nervous man, his movements jerky. He jumped at any sound he heard. Luck had looked out for Cloud this day.

He turned out into the hall, coming up like a black wraith stalking its prey. He slowly raised the handgun, aiming down the sights. He pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. It was over. The dead body of the guard dropped to the ground, blood pooling from the remnants of his skull. Cloud stepped over the body, ignoring the lifeless gray eyes staring into eternity.

He walked down the hall.

He approached the vacant chairs, the coffee slowly cooling in the paper cup, and continued on toward his freedom. He felt no remorse. He would not be used any longer; his freedom was at the end of the corridor. Nothing would stop him now.

A gunshot exploded in his ears. He spun toward the sound, his own gun raised, but staggered as a bullet ripped through his leg. The leg refused to hold his weight, and he collapsed, clutching the wound, blood pouring through his fingertips and staining his pants. He dropped the gun as he fell, watching as it skittered from his hand. Now it was truly over. He had lost.

The enraged face of Aeris Gainsborough loomed over him, her lips tight with anger, her eyes narrowed with hate. She pressed the gun to his forehead, her mouth curving in an almost feral grin, her white teeth wicked against the red paint on her lips.

"You would seek to escape, Destroyer," she growled, her voice low. "I want to kill you for your crimes, but I would not settle my efforts in vain. Let the pain you feel remind you of this."

She stood, her pink dress following her curves and the gun clenched tightly in her hand. Her lips pulling back in that horrible grin, she brought the heel of her shoe down into the wound in his leg. A strangled cry of pain escaped his lips as the numbing agony washed over him. The harrowing vision of his evil enchantress faded into the black.

For once in his life, Bugah had no idea what to do.

Deemed an elder because of his extensive experiences and wisdom derived thereof, there was rarely a time in which he had no plan, no course of action. With Bugenhagen and Hargo at his side, Cosmo Canyon had never reached state of total confusion, Seto’s presence even furthering the peace. He had never thought that there would come a time where Cosmo Canyon was ruled by this thoughtless cacophony.

He was torn from his thoughts as an explosion kicked up dirt and rocks near him. He ducked behind an outcropping of boulders, the earth from the explosion beating down on him mercilessly. When the rain of earth stopped, Bugah tentatively glanced out from his hiding place.

Cosmo Canyon was in ruins. Where the town had once stood, there were only burning buildings and dismal debris. Smoke curled up into the gray sky, red flames reaching for the clouds like the bloodied fingers of a murderer reaching for a victim’s neck. The stench of burnt flesh filled the air, its distinct aroma mingling with the stench of death. In the midst of the smoke and chaos was its cause.

An obsidian dragon, seemingly made from the darkness itself, raised up on its haunches, letting loose a shriek. The cry resounded through the canyon, the echo shaking loose gravel and dirt from the rock walls. The fire roared in response, crackling and hissing as it devoured the town in a mad attempt to ease it bottomless hunger. Thunder growled in the sky.

The dragon spread its wings, their large span engulfing the town. The light from the flames reflected on the crystalline surface, the black neither scorched by the heat nor burned by the blaze. Blood gleamed on pearl teeth, the same crimson marring the surface of its long, wicked claws. It heaved itself up the pinnacle of the town, its long tail swinging wide for balance, oblivious to the damage it caused to the canyon and to the town.

Bugah watched in horror as the observatory on top of the cliff was slowly crushed under the immense weight of the creature. The beams cracked, the roof collapsing in on itself, the treasure contained within its walls destroyed. Bugah swallowed in remorse, his throat constricting. All that Bugenhagen had loved, a small memory of a crazy, old wizard, was gone, ground into the canyon floor. It was destroyed forever, never to be replaced by even the hardest work. What was Cosmo Canyon now, but a small amount of crushed hopes and dead bodies, a run-down town, no man’s land.

The dragon raised its head into towards the clouds, stretching its long neck to reach the dismal gray. It let loose a trumpeting call as if it was broadcasting its victory to the sky. The ground shuddered under its cry, a frightened bit of earth. The remaining denizens of Cosmo Canyon hid from the creature’s fury, running for cover in a futile attempt to escape the roar. It echoed through the canyon, reverberating into every crack and niche within its cliffs and ridges. Nowhere was safe from the call. When the dragon cut it off, the echo shouted in reply.

Pushing itself from the pinnacle of Cosmo Canyon in a fury of wings and muscle, the dragon hoisted itself into flight, embracing the clouds. It circled once, its wings picking up a gale that blew dust and smoke into the air. It shrieked again and was gone.

Quite shaken and ashen with the knowledge that he had just survived the passing events, Bugah stood, shaking the dust and dirt from his clothing. The situation was bleak, most of the people of Cosmo Canyon lying dead on the ground, their blood staining the otherwise bland, brown, dusty earth. A smoldering weed crumpled to the ground, disintegrating into ash as the embers slowly ate it. The remaining denizens of Cosmo Canyon slowly crawled from their hiding spots.

Bugah took a deep breath. "We need a protector once more," he whispered, his voice barely audible. He looked at the people staring at him wide-eyed, anger filling his core. This thing had taken away everything that meant something to the elders of Cosmo Canyon. He would not stand for this. "Send for Nanaki."

Cloud groaned, letting his head fall to the side, slowly opening his eyes. The pain exploded in his leg, a burning throb that accompanied his heartbeat. He set his jaw against the pain, trying to blink away the double images spinning in front of his eyes. His attempt to block the pain and climb to his feet was feeble, nausea forcing him back down on the comforting surface almost before his head left the pillow. It was nicer where he currently was, anyway.

Dr. Nygel Huiji raised his eyebrows in concern though he made no move to assist the young man in getting to his feet. He rubbed the goatee on his chin, scratching at his black hair, deep in thought. After Aeris had so inconsiderately left Strife bleeding in the hallway, Nygel had brought him back to the cell, stitched him up, and wrapped a bandage around the wound. He had seen his opening. All he had to do was play his cards right now.

"Does it hurt much?" he asked, remaining seated on the toilet, his make-shift chair. "I can get you something for the pain."

Cloud’s eyes landed on the man on the opposite side of the room, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. This man seemed so familiar, yet Cloud could not recall ever seeing him before this day. Suspicion gnawed at his core. He frowned, forcing himself to sit up on the bed.

"Does what hurt?" he asked, pushing a nonchalant tone over one that was filled with pain. He clenched his teeth as he swung his feet over the edge of the bed, the agony returning in a prolonged ache.

Nygel snorted. "I’m a doctor, not a fool. I can see right through that façade of yours, so you might as well not use it."

Cloud’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t know who you are, so you might as well stop pretending to be my best friend ’cause you sure as hell ain’t."

The doctor merely leaned back, shrugging, a smile tickling his lips. "Your best friend? And who is your best friend? Tifa Lockhart?"

Cloud spit the man a cold glare, forcing himself not to do anything stupid. "Why do you care?" he asked, keeping as much emotion out of his voice as possible.

"You are a very interesting man. The world would be a better place if there were more men like you."

"Yeah, well, there are a lot of people who are interesting, but that’s not what I asked."

Nygel leaned back forward in his seat, placing his hands on his knees. "Why do I care who your best friend is? Mmm… a very interesting question, indeed." He pursed his lips as if in deep thought. "Well, it seems to me you have had a friend in the past. An Aeris Gainsborough, perhaps?"

Cloud visibly stiffened at the mention of that name. "Aeris is dead."

Nygel gave Cloud half a shrug. "Maybe. Depends on how you define ‘dead’. I suppose the true Aeris Gainsborough died eight months ago." He sighed. "Shame. But, you see, I managed, using the samples from Hojo, to clone her. Perfection achieved."

Cloud straightened in surprise. Clone her? he asked himself, incredulous to this idea. Somehow, however, he could remember thinking the same thing himself. It hurt, like a knife jabbing into his back. To see something so dear to him reduced to an animal... Cloud’s anger ran deep. "She’s as mad as Sephiroth. That isn’t perfection; it’s insanity," he snapped, his blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

Nygel sighed, shrugging again. "A slight setback. Yes, my clone is a box of fruit loops. She has no perception of any reality other than that she creates herself. She’s the one that shot you, you know. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. She can be a sardonic bitch, can’t she?"

He stood, stretching, feeling his muscles loosen and tendons pop. Running a hand over his balding head, he started to the door, his lab coat slapping at his heels. "If you need something, just yell, but, ah, no more escape attempts. The body count on this little project is too high as it is."

"Project?" Cloud asked, standing. His leg refused to hold his weight, and he sat back down quickly, unaware of his discomfort as he watched Nygel open the door and start out of the room. "What are you talking about?"

Nygel turned back to him, lines creasing his forehead. "I can’t disclose any information at this time, my friend. But believe me, I have so much to tell you, Cloud." He smiled slightly, waiting for that to sink in. Cloud stared him down dubiously, torn between a need to know and suspicion of the man who had cloned Aeris. "The project is secret, and I’m not sure that Ms. Gainsborough would find it in her cold heart to forgive me if I told you anything. Especially about certain events that took place, oh say, five years ago. After your trip to Nibelheim with your friend, Zack."

Cloud’s eyes were suddenly blazing with energy as they snapped up at the doctor. He took a step forward, but his leg buckled and he went down onto his knees with a wince. Cloud held out his hand. "Wait!" he called. He desperately wanted to know, he needed to know what had happened to him. What had been done to him in that five year period that was missing from his memory. He suddenly couldn’t let another moment slip by without that knowledge, without filling that gap and regaining a part of his past. "Don’t go!" he pleaded. "I need to know!"

Nygel only smiled, watching the other’s reaction with silent glee. "If you don’t try to escape again, I may tell you a portion of my secrets sometime during another visit. As it is, I can’t really say anything right now." He walked out the open doorway, pulling the door shut behind him. At the last moment, he stuck his head back into the room, a small smile in his black eyes. "Before I go, let me give you a little peace of mind. I just want you to know that you should not listen to Ms. Gainsborough. She is a compulsive liar. When she told you that Cid Highwind was killed, allegedly by you, she was not correct. Mr. Highwind is very much alive."

"What?!" Cloud demanded, standing in surprise. Cid was not dead? What was happening? The only thing to answer his questions, however, was the clicking of the door as it latched shut. Cloud winced, unable to stand, exhausted by both the pain in his leg and the mental anguish. His head was buzzing with questions. Aeris cloned? Five years ago? Cid wasn’t dead? What was going on?!

Cait Sith cleared his throat, wringing his hands nervously in front of him, his eyes darting around the room. Beside him, Barret Wallace frowned as he scrutinized the cat and mog, murder in his eyes. Cait Sith swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

"So, uh, how are all of you?" he asked, forcing the shaking out of his voice. Barret’s frown deepened.

"We’re all fine, thank you," Red XIII declared, giving a menacing glance to Barret. The large man rolled his eyes in response. "Have you found anything useful?"

Cait Sith smiled, shifting his position on the mog. "Sure have. President Reeve has been looking through all the files practically non-stop. He works too hard, sometimes. Where’s Tifa?"

Red glanced at the door and then back to them, his eyebrows raised. "I don’t know. Probably at the Tiny Bronco with Cid."

Cait Sith glanced almost nervously between them. "Where’s Cloud?"

"None of yo business," Barret snapped, his large, brown eyes narrowed dangerously on the toysaurus. There was almost murder in his gaze.

Cait Sith smiled weakly; the little cat was almost quivering. "Oh, okay." The little cat perked up, suddenly remembering Cid. "Say how is Cid? I heard there was trouble." Red XIII exchanged a glance with Barret, a question in the look. Barret shook his head in an almost imperceptible manner. Cait Sith watched the exchange with growing dismay. "Okay… I can see we don’t want to talk about that either. Alrighty then, no problem with me. So, how’s business been lately, Barret?"

"Look, shut yo trap," he growled. "I ain’t got nothing to say."

Cait Sith looked taken aback, his eyes wide. "All I did was inquire about the nature of the business in the Seventh Heaven!"

"Ya don’t give a hoot anyhow! What’s it ta you?!"

"Maybe I do care. Is it illegal to wonder about the well-being of those persons considered ‘friends’? Or is that a crime I should know about?!"

"I sure don’t consider you my friend, foo’!"

They both turned their heads as the sound of a clearing throat reached them. "What?!" they demanded, their voices shouting in unison.

Tifa placed her hands on her hips, fixing them both with a reprimanding glare. Her foot tapped the wooden floor of the Seventh Heaven as she coolly arched an eyebrow. Both Barret and Cait Sith looked away, slightly ashamed of themselves.

"Hello, Cait," she said as sweetly as she could, a forced grin on her face. Barret visibly squirmed in disgust.

Cait jumped to his feet, grabbed Tifa’s hand, and kissed the back of it. "My Lady," he said graciously, "you look lovely tonight."

Tifa smiled again as she pulled out a chair and sat in it. Glancing at Barret, she saw his face was red. He looked like he was about ready to explode. Trying to soften the tense situation, she turned to Cait. "Did Reeve find anything on that dead Shinra commando?"

Cait looked sad. "Very little. There are just too many soldiers that are AWOL to identify him. And all of Shinra’s records were destroyed during the Meteor craze. It’s one big dead end."

Tifa looked crestfallen at this, staring with forlorn eyes at the table. Silence reigned for a brief moment, no sounds in Seventh Heaven besides the aching emptiness. Cait Sith glanced around the table. "What’s going on here?" he asked softly, shaking his head. "Why’s everyone so upset?" Nobody answered. Cait was beginning to get irritated as he said more forcefully, "Look, I’m a member of this team, too. I deserve to know what’s going on. What happened? Where’s Cloud?"

Tifa suddenly looked at him with teary eyes. "Cloud and Cid were attacked a week ago. Cid was nearly killed. Cloud disappeared. Cid..." She trailed off, conjuring up her strength to say what needed to be said. "Cid says he saw... Aeris. She was the one who attacked them. And, somehow, she... she made Cloud nearly kill him."

"What?!" Barret snapped, leaning forward.

Red shook his head. "That’s why he wouldn’t tell us what happened..."

Cait sat back in shock. For a few moments, they were all still, none of them had the courage to speak nor the knowledge of what to say. "Cloud..." Cait said finally, shaking his head. He looked up at Tifa. "You think he was kidnapped?"

Tifa just nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

Barret stared Cait down coldly. "Well, you would know, wouldn’t you? Big Shinra exec! For all we know, you the one who planned this entire thing and now you got Cloud and is doing who knows what to him!!"

Anger flared into Cait Sith. "Now, wait a damn minute! Cloud’s my friend! There’s no way in hell I would hurt him!" Tifa winced.

"Well, ya coulda fooled me!"

Red interrupted, standing on his hind legs with his forepaws on the table. "Barret, Cait, please. This isn’t helping us or Cloud," he pleaded in a desperate attempt to diffuse the situation.

Barret stood, glaring with murder in his eyes at Cait. "You were never on our side, ya traitor! You were always using us for your own $&%#&@* gains, you bastard!"

Before Cait could retort, a voice cut over the dim. "Why can’t we all just get along?" Cid wondered aloud, a sarcastic note in his voice, as he entered the room, calmly smoking a cigarette. He pulled a chair over and sat down in it. "Oh, yeah. That’d just be too damn easy, wouldn’t it, Barret? Wouldn’t it, Barret?"

Tifa shook her head, her emotions in a jumble. Her anger was rising, and she was beginning to lose her patience. "That’s enough. We’re all going to get along starting right here, right now."

"We can be one big, happy family!" Cid exclaimed, the sarcasm still thick on his tongue. "Won’t that be fun? Huh, Barret?"

"Stop it," Tifa ordered.

"You liar!!" Barret demanded, standing and slamming a fist down onto the table. "Cloud woulda never hurt you! Damn it, he would never hurt any of us!"

"I said, stop it."

"You think I made that up?!" Cid replied hotly, also standing, ignoring Tifa. "You think I like what I saw?! Huh?! You think it didn’t hurt me?!" Cid’s face was enraged, his eyes full of pain. "Why would I lie about that?! Huh?! Cloud stabbed me! He ran me through! How do you think that makes me feel?!"

Barret’s face hardened, his tone dropping in anger. "Well, maybe you deserved it. Maybe you ain’t as saintly as you lead us to believe. I mean, when have you stuck your neck out fer Cloud or fer any of us?!"

"SHUT UP!"

Both men turned to Tifa in surprise. Cid abruptly sat back down in his chair, his teeth clenched in anger. Barret merely frowned, sitting more slowly than his antagonist. They both glared across the table at each other, engaged in a silent argument, neither willing to let the other win. Tifa promptly ignored them both, sitting down as well.

"That’s better. Now, I don’t care what any of you believe, but this is my show, and no one – and I mean no one – is going to ruin this with petty arguing. That goes twice for you Barret seeing how you can not keep up relations with two other members of my team."

"Relations?!" he barked. "I’ll show ya some relations! How ’bout foreign?! That fat ass has probably got Cloud locked up in his basement and he-" He stabbed an accusing finger at Cid. "He’s a lying sack of *&%$!"

Cid snorted, his rebuttal cut short by a glance from Tifa. "Don’t even attempt one of your smart remarks," she ordered curtly, "or I’ll whip you both into shape so fast and so hard you won’t know what hit you."

"I’ve no doubt you could do that, Tifa," Cait Sith agreed, nodding.

"Shut up!" Cid and Barret shouted, turning their angry glares onto the cat.

"Don’t make me kick yo ass, foo’!" Barret said, his voice hot. "Don’t go thinkin’ I won’t."

"That’s enough, all of you. And to think that you’re all grown men." Red XIII shook his head sadly.

"I am not a man; I am a cat!" Cait Sith declared.

"Yeah, a skinny, wuss-cat on top of an overstuffed teddy bear," Cid muttered, lighting a cigarette.

"That’s a mog to you, propeller-head!"

Cid looked truly thoughtful for a moment, holding the cigarette in one hand. Then, he shrugged. "Never heard that one before." He put the cigarette back into his mouth, taking a long drag off of it, blowing the smoke into the air.

"Are you finished now?" Tifa asked coldly, her arms crossed.

Barret turned to her. "No, I ain’t! I wanna object to this entire course of action! We ain’t bringing in that fat ass!"

"Who are you callin’ ‘fat’, you big Buddha?!" Cait Sith demanded, standing up on top of his mog. The mog puffed out its chest proudly. "I am not ‘fat’. I may be festively plump, but I am not ‘fat’!"

"Big boned," Red XIII muttered before clearing his throat. "Barret, Cait Sith, maybe we can find a way to resolve our differences in a more… mature manner."

"What about him?!" Cait Sith demanded, pointing to Cid. The pilot glanced up from where he was staring. He showed his hands, palm up, as if in surrender, and shrugged before returning to his thoughts. "That ain’t fair! He called me a wuss!"

Cid shook his head, exasperated. "Would an apology be in order?" he asked, glancing over to Tifa. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What’re you thinkin’?" Barret asked. "Mr. Mood-Swing?"

"You gonna share your thoughts with the class?" Cait Sith asked, hands on his hips.

Cid’s eyes widened as he leaned back in his chair. He stood and shook a fist at Barret. "You &%@$#@@*&% @##$%#$@#$ @#$*$!"

Tifa stood in front of them, stopping this before there was a brawl. "That is enough!" she bellowed, glaring them each down with enough hate in her gaze to start a war. "Cloud’s life may be at stake and all you three can do is fight! Selfish! Either you three calm down or I’m going to kick the crap out of you all!" She leaned in close to Cid who was staring Barret down. "And don’t think I won’t do it!! Cloud needs us now and I’ll be damned if I let some petty squabbling keep this team from helping him!" She clenched her teeth, breathing heavily, her chest heaving in ire. "This fight is over now. If you don’t end it, I will. Understood?" It was silent for a moment as she gazed malevolently around the table. Finally, she was met with a few nods. Tifa only gave a sideways glance to the motion. She sat back down with a heavy sigh. "Okay, now that we’ve settled our differences, I would like to carry on with what’s truly important here. Cait Sith, what has Reeve found out about the cloning?" she asked tiredly and calmly, turning to the stuffed cat.

Cait Sith ceased wringing his hands, glancing about the room. "Well, after many extensive hours at the tedious work, President Reeve has found some people – well, mainly one person – under his employ that has both the knowledge, the access to the facilities, and who is capable of such a feat as cloning Aeris: Dr. Nygel Huiji."

Tifa glanced at Cid. "You have anything to add?"

He looked up, confused. "What? No."

Cait Sith glanced at her sharply before continuing in Reeve’s voice. "Anyway, this guy is Hojo’s predecessor. Don’t ask me how he ended up under my employ. I don’t readily recall ever taking this guy under my pay roll."

Cid shook his head. "Look, so this little weasel cloned Aeris. Sephiroth was always makin’ Cloud go loony. Could be she can do that, too."

Reeve shrugged, scratching the back of his head. "Anyway, he works in Hojo’s old labs. They’re deserted, no longer used by Shinra. He hasn’t shown himself lately; if Cloud’s anywhere, it’s undoubtedly there."

"You didn’t ID the commando, then?" Cid asked.

Cait sighed tiredly and was about to snap some quick retort, but a sharp glance from Tifa stifled it. "Nope. There are too many commandos that have been missing since Meteor hit. Especially those that were in SOLDIER. I know that it wasn’t any of the commandos that I know are still working for me, though that only narrows it down to about four or five hundred names."

"This is great," Barret muttered. "So we got some mad scientist running around cloning people, and Cloud’s gone all wonky again... I still say we jes’ break down the door, grab Cloud, and haul ass outta there."

Reeve nodded, despite his anger towards Barret. "I second that approach. It’s still Shinra property, but the full frontal attack has worked before this."

Red XIII grinned. "Sounds like a plan. Not a very good one, but it beats waiting around here."

Tifa glanced over to Cid who shrugged. "I dunno. You guys do what you want. I’m not going."

"What?!" Barret asked, incredulous. "You ain’t chickenin’ out, are ya? I mean, you got Cloud into this-" Tifa silenced him with a sharp glare.

He shook his head. "I just… don’t want to go there right now. I don’t think I could face that."

Tifa sighed in worry though she hoped it came off more toward aggravation. She knew why he didn’t want to go; she had been wondering how she could face Cloud herself. Somehow, she knew she’d be strong simply because she had to be. "Fine, do what you want. You can hold down the fort, protect Marlene, whatever. I’m in."

There were nodded agreements all around the table. "Okay, Reeve, find out all you can about security there."

"I can hack into the system to get you in," Reeve declared, an air of vanity evident in his tone at which Barret smirked.

"That’s good. We’ll take Cait Sith along with us as a relay." The toy cat gave a mock salute to Tifa, a signal that Reeve had become Cait Sith again. She nodded, more than slightly relieved to see the team coming together again. "As soon as Reeve’s ready with the security information, we’re going to move. Let’s bring Cloud home."

They nodded agreements once again as she glanced around the table. Her gaze landed on Cid who gave her a worried look through the smoke rising from his cigarette. She attempted to give him a reassuring smile, though she wished she could somehow be reassured herself.

"No escape attempts," Nygel declared as he walked into the small cell. "I award you with a smile of gratitude and my thanks."

Cloud didn’t respond, suspiciously watching the doctor as he walked into the cell. He was sitting the long way on the bed, his injured leg stretched out before him in the most easeful manner which was far from comfortable. The hair on the back of his neck prickled.

"Tell me about Cid," he ordered, his voice full of menace. "Tell me about what you did to me five years ago."

To his surprise, Nygel laughed. "What I did to you? First of all, I did nothing to you, by dear boy. Hojo was in complete control of that. I don’t think this is the time or place to talk about that, anyway."

Cloud clenched his teeth in an attempt to control his anger. He wanted nothing more than to jump off this bed and pummel that smile off that bastard’s face. He suddenly went cold, a chill rushing over him. Cloud rubbed his face with a hand that was shaking. What’s wrong with me? Why am I so angry? Why can’t I think straight?! It was like he was a different person, and the real him was watching this stranger in his body. What are they doing to me? He took a deep breath and tried to shrug off his feelings. "What about Cid?"

Nygel smiled, not missing his companion’s disorientated moment. "Highwind? There’s not much to tell I’m afraid. You ran him through with your big and mighty sword. He’s still alive. First Sephiroth, now him. They sure don’t make those swords like they used to."

Cloud frowned, his eyes narrowing with his suspicion. "How do you know about that?"

Nygel shrugged and smiled. "I know all about you," he said simply. He stood and began to pace the small cell, hands clasped behind his back. "I know how your father died when you were very young. I know about Tifa, and how you felt about her when you were kids. I know about her accident, when she fell off the bridge to Mount Nibel and you were unable to save her." Cloud stiffened. "I know about that promise you made to Tifa under the stars at the well. I know about why you left to become a SOLDIER and how you never made it in. I was practically there at the Nibelheim incident five years ago when you came home, too ashamed to show your face. I was almost with you when you killed Sephiroth, when you pulled the sword from your chest, your blood spilling from you, and hurled him into the Mako Pit." Cloud shook his head, almost shaking. Nygel smiled. "I know about AVALANCHE and the Reactor Five Mission. I’ve been watching you very carefully these past years. I know all about Barret Wallace, Vincent Valentine, Yuffie Kisargi, and your Cid Highwind. I know about how you would gladly give up your life for any of them. I was beside you when you put Aeris’ body to rest at the City of the Ancients. When you were trapped in the Lifestream, I was there too, coaxing you back to reality. I was with you when you destroyed Sephiroth. I know everything about you."

"You’re lying," Cloud stammered.

All Nygel did was smile. "Am I?"

Cloud licked his lips in the silence that followed, shaken by the man’s words. Finally, he asked, "What are you doing to me?" he asked. "What do you want?"

Nygel grinned widely as if he was silently laughing, though Cloud could discern whether it was at some inside joke or at him. "Not so fast, Mr. Strife. Don’t you even wonder who I am? After all that I just said, don’t you wonder?" He sat down onto the toilet again, returning to the perch he had claimed in his visit before this day.

Cloud spit him an icy glare, his frown deepening. "No, not particularly," he lied. "I’m not sure I want to know a man who clones dead women as a hobby."

Nygel laughed, again finding something funny in the comments Cloud had meant as biting. "You’re a very funny man, Mr. Strife. I think you missed your calling; you should have been a stand-up comic." His smile disappeared, and, suddenly, he was all business again. "As you may have figured out, I’m a genetics engineer. Nygel Huiji. How do you do?"

Cloud snorted, shaking his head. "Cloud Strife, but I’m sure you already know that, seeing as that you’ve got my entire life down day by day." The venom in his voice was intense.

Nygel shrugged absentmindedly, running a hand over his balding head. "I confess, Cloud, I know more about you than you do about yourself. But, with that, comes the fact that I still don’t know what makes you tick. Here is a man who has lost almost everything in the world, yet he still carries on with his life, almost indifferent to the hurt that has been sent his way. I’m wondering if that hurt has been so unbearable and so much that he has forgotten how it feels, that he has somehow become numb to the pain of life."

Cloud raised one eyebrow, coolly analyzing the man sitting before him. Was this man insinuating what Aeris had told him? Were they somehow working together, despite this man’s insistence that his clone was a crazy fool? His mind raced with the possibilities. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?" he asked coldly. "I’m getting tired of these games."

Nygel was oblivious to Cloud’s remarks, scratching at his goatee in thought. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed as he planned his next question. He raised his eyebrows as he said, "Tell me, Mr. Strife. Do you linger on the pain? Does it haunt you?"

"There isn’t a day that passes in my life in which I don’t remember what it feels like to lose it all," he growled, his voice ice. The indifference in his voice surprised himself. "But, no, I do not linger on the pain, and nor it does not haunt me. I do not shield myself with my hatred as your delightful clone suggested. If I did, I doubt it would hurt as much as it does now. It does not haunt me, nor does it drive me."

"Then what does it do?" Nygel asked, slightly unnerved by the freeness of which Cloud talked to him. His misgivings were furthered by the answer Cloud gave him.

"It helps me." A small smile played on his lips, the slightly insane smirk that Nygel had seen on Aeris’ features. "It helps me deal with the little things I encounter in my life every day that make me think that I am undeserving of happiness."

Nygel’s brow furrowed in confusion. "And what do you mean by that? That is not an answer."

Cloud shrugged. "I dunno. If I’ve gone through all this suffering, maybe it’s about time I saw some happiness in my life. Maybe the fates have finally decided to come down from their lofty thrones and give me peace. I don’t know."

Nygel stared at the young man’s bright blue Mako eyes, slightly unnerved. What was he talking about? And then, it hit him. All of his work was not perfect; none of it could give happy lives to those who emerged from it. All the clones, all the failed experiments, all they could ever be were the crazy men and women lining the corners of the streets in the slums. They would never find this peace that Strife talked about, they could never find happiness in a world where idealists were shunned and those who were different were pursued by malevolent bigots, and they would surely perish in this twisted world where everything was preconceived and the lines between right and wrong were a dim gray. They would never find their Promised Land.

And his work furthered that. The insanity that plagued his creations was not through some frivolous flaw that dealt with the process; it was there because the clones wanted something more from a lifetime of hard work and sacrifice than a lousy pension and a cheap gold watch. Aeris sought perfection through the destruction of the bigots and the narrow-minded. Strife just wanted happiness.

But who was right?

He frowned. Surely it was not himself. Standing up slowly, watching Cloud intently for any sign of emotion that could flicker across those eyes. There was none. Nygel Huiji pulled on the open door and walked from the room, and for the first time in many years, uncertainty plagued him.

Cloud watched him go, staring blankly as the door shut and locked behind him. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaking breath. He trusted Nygel about as far as he could throw him. Still, the man held the answers to all his questions, the key to unlock the doors to his past. And he wanted to let out that pain. What was wrong with him? He felt like he was coming apart at the seams, like a thousand personalities were invading him and he was losing his own in the maelstrom. Cloud shuddered and scrubbed his hands through his hair. What were they doing to him? Why was this happening? He looked to the ceiling with teary eyes. Oh, God, Tifa... what’s happening to me?

© Junj, 1998

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