Section 3

Cait Sith hummed quietly to himself as he stuffed a wad of cotton back into his mog’s stomach. “Hold on there, buddy,” he muttered, breaking the song. “I’ll get ya fixed in no time. You’ll be stitched up and rearing to go!”

Although he tried not to show it, he was actually devastated by the injuries his mog had received. Never in his existence – seeming as he didn’t particularly have a life – had he felt so helpless to do anything. He had never felt so open, so torn; he had never felt this small on top of his mog. Now, he was the little insect easily squashed beneath the heel of a boot. He hated this feeling.

“Don’t take it out on me,” Reeve declared, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I’m not the one who got you here!”

Reno frowned, his face darkening. “What the hell are you talking about?!” he demanded. “You signed us that job!”

Reno’s frown became mirrored on Reeve’s face. “What are you talking about? I haven’t done any business with you since before I got the company.”

The Turks’ frown disappeared, a sudden realization coming over him. He punched the wall angrily. “That asshole! I’m gonna kill him.”

“Who?”

“Nygel Huiji – Doctor Nygel Huiji.”

Reeve raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Nygel Huiji? Are you sure?”

Reno frowned again. “I think I’d remember the name of a geek who just conned me. Damn, what the hell’s Elena gonna think?”

The ex-Shinra President sat down on the cot with a sigh, mulling over his thoughts. “What was the job?”

The cot squeaked in protest as Reno sat down next to Reeve. “We were supposed to swipe some Black Materia from his labs and give it to you.”

“Really?” A smile began forming on Reeve’s features as a new thought sprung to his mind. “Maybe she doesn’t have to know that I didn’t sign you that job.”

“What’re you talking about? Just tell me and stop dancing around the subject.”

“Bear with me for a second, Reno. Black Materia is decidedly bad, correct?” Reno nodded. “We wouldn’t want that falling into the wrong hands such as those of Aeris or Scarlet, also correct. So just stick to the original plan. Find the Black Materia and bring it back to me. I know someone we can trust who won’t loose it.”

Reno leaned back against the wall, stretching his feet out in front of him. His head was starting to pound again, a slow rivulet of blood running from a cut on his brow. He paid it no heed. “That’s assuming we ever get outta here, right? The odds of that happening ain’t looking in our favor.”

Reeve shrugged. “Never stopped a Turk before.”

Cait Sith turned back to them, an object in hand. He had stuffed it in his mog at the fight and had forgotten about it until now. A smile was lighting up his face almost as wide as Cosmo Canyon. He held it out for them to see.

“Won’t stop one now,” he declared, doing a little dance of victory.

Reeve and Reno exchanged surprise glances. “What the hell?” Reeve asked, bewilderment in his eyes. “Where’d you get that?”

And then Reno grinned, shaking his head slowly. “Why you little thief…”

Tifa watched the sunrise on the horizon, a beautiful portrait of color and light so exquisite and seemingly pure that it was breath-taking. The sun peeked over the edge of the grassy plain, kissing her cheeks with its warmth, its light sparkling in the golden blades of grass. It was a symbol of hope, a new day in which she could dream of finding her love. It was a symbol of new life.

She felt no elation.

For while the sun shined warmly upon her, its red light bloodied the sky, a vile picture of the fields turning crimson. And for while the warm sun beat down upon her face, she felt nothing but the cold chill of being alone. Cloud was gone; she might be chasing her own tail, following ghosts on her false hopes that he was near. He might be dead. Or worse.

Mideel. She remembered that event though it had transpired months ago. What had he done to deserve this harsh treatment by the fates? He was constantly lost, not in the physical sense of the word. His mind was scarred beyond repair. He could never know his true self. She could never know him either. Was he really Cloud Strife or just some figment of her imagination born in some test tube in Hojo’s lab? Who was he?

She wished she could help him, but the true Cloud – if there had ever been one – had died that day in Nibelheim. She couldn’t help him. Not when he was fighting his own mind. She couldn’t hide him or fight him or even run away. She was drawn to him like a moth to flame, and she was scared that one day he would burn her so badly that she would just shrivel up and die. She was so scared, but he needed her, and she loved him.

God, how she loved him.

There was nothing that could stand between them, even if Cloud wasn’t Cloud. But if Cloud wasn’t Cloud, then whom did she love? That thought had been forced into her mind by the small portion of her that was a cold realist over and over again. Without him here, she found it invading her thoughts more and more frequently, and it scared her. What if her love was wasted on a mere puppet? What was she supposed to do?

There wasn’t anything she could do. She would look for him and search for him until she wore herself down to a mere silhouette of a woman. Her heart would ache until she found him, but she absentmindedly wondered which would hurt more. The search or her findings. What if she found him like she had at Mideel? Twisted and shattered like a glass doll which had received the brunt of a mean child’s anger. What if he was like that again, but there were no more pieces left to glue together with her love? He was just a broken man with less happiness than the average bum.

Or what if she never found him at all? Tears stung at her eyes. What if he ran off to be with Aeris and left her alone except for her dying memories? He wouldn’t do that. He loved her, not Aeris. But what if he didn’t? He had never said anything above love and had only taken her on a date once. He had to love her. He had to.

But he didn’t have to and that was the point. She would run after him around the world searching for him and never finding him because he wanted to be lost. No, he couldn’t want that. Not after Mideel. Never again would he want to be that broken and exposed. But it was always easier to be lost and forget all the worries of the world than to always be found and face those worries and fears and aggression.

And what if she did find him, and he didn’t love her at all? Then what? That would be the ultimate slap in the face. Would she just go home crying to… to who? Nobody. Without Cloud she had nobody. Barret and Marlene and Cid and Vincent and all the others didn’t matter. They weren’t her family. They were only friends. Her family was dead. And Cloud was the closest person she had. If he didn’t want her…

She collapsed into the sea of grass, her shaking knees refusing to hold up her weight any longer. The tears streamed down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands. She would find him, and they would be together, and he would love her. There was no other choice.

She didn’t want to be alone.

Cloud watched a small ray of light filter in an even smaller window perched near the top of the small room. The ray floated to the ground on a whisper of air, shining on through the darkness with a dim glow that could mean anything to anybody but was a small beam of hope amidst the overpowering black. A hope that that black would not become his life, that it would not rule him. A small hope that left with the sun.

He reached out to touch the light with a shaking hand, trembling not out of fear but out of the hope of a desperate man. The light glowed softly on his hand, a warmth that seemed to be trying to comfort him. He couldn’t be comforted by that warmth. Not anymore. He was lost. He could never find himself now.

And no one would search for him.

And Tifa… how could she ever want to see him again? After all the pain and hurt he caused? After all the awkward, silent moments they shared? She couldn’t love him; she must hate him for all the hell through which he’d put her. He hated himself for that. He didn’t know which he felt more strongly, the hate for everything he done or his hate for everything he hadn’t.

The air swirled, the ray of light flickered. The light of truth that showed him the pain. Why would she look for him? He was a cursed, wretched being, shunned by his own mind. He wasn’t even sure who he was. He could be a perfectly sane person destined to be hurt over and over again in his life because of some deed he had done. Or he could be just a wisp of memory that faded as fast as it appeared, slipping through the grasping fingers that clung to it.

And whose fingers were they? Were they his or hers? Was he just trying to fool himself? Maybe he was that wisp of memory, and he wanted so bad to be with Tifa that he had found one fond memory from her mind and become it. Living the past wasn’t a life at all. But it was with her, and something with her was better than everything without her.

Or had she made him into someone he wasn’t? Did she want him to be the Cloud Strife from her memories because she had loved that Cloud? Living a lie wasn’t any better than living as a figment of the past. But it was with her. Even it wasn’t him with her, he would play the part to be with her. He would do anything to be with her. He loved her even if she didn’t love him, even if she loved her memories or her past and not him. It didn’t matter. This light was his love, the small flicker of hope that he would find some sort of happiness in this life, regardless of whether or not it was based on the truth. The truth often hurt; he could be immune to that hurt. When your life was a lie, you had to be. You had to be.

But what if she never came? What if she bore no love for the past or for the future? What if she did hate all the strife he had caused? What if she hated him and hated Mideel and hated the truth? The hot tears stung his eyes, and he closed them in an attempt to stop himself from crying. He couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t live with that. To be hated by himself was one thing, but to be hated by his love was something he couldn’t stand. The dejection, the loneliness.

The small ray of hope beamed down gently on his face as if to calm his frenzied mind. The hope that she would come… it was the only thing he could do. He couldn’t not do anything. He had to believe that she would come rescue him from this hell. She had done it before; she must care for him. He needed to believe; he needed to have something to cling to where the walls were slick and smooth. He needed to have hope. There was nothing else. He had to believe that she would come rescue him from this hell. She had done it before; she must care for him. He needed to believe; he needed to have something to cling to where the walls were slick and smooth. He needed to have hope. There was nothing else. He had to hope that she loved him, that she cared for him.

The light flickered once, the warm sun slipping behind a wall of clouds. He looked up at the window as the light disappeared altogether. The room was bathed in a dim gloom, the darkness totally encompassing the corners. He sank to his knees, oblivious to the tears streaming down his face. He slowly shook his head in a silent denial, wishing the light back to help him through this. If not her, then the light would surely help him through this. But it had disappeared forever, abandoning him to his own hellish demons. He was destined to be alone, eternally damned to a life of solitude.

He hated being alone.

Vincent’s eyes clouded over with his pain as he fervently wished that he could forgive himself for his sins. He wanted Lucrecia to be there with him. He wanted to feel her delicate lips brushing his cheek, her beautifully shining hair between his fingers, her soft breath on his back. But he would never feel that again. He could never see her again. She was gone. Forever.

He turned back to the present, hoping that she wouldn’t come back to his thoughts like a silent doe slipping through a forest glen. He knew she would, though. She always did, and there was nothing he could do about it. He hoisted himself into the third cramped seat on the Gay Boat.

“No one’s having second thoughts ’bout this, right?” Cid asked, turning around to view all the people behind him. Tifa’s face was grim with her determination; Vincent’s was stone to hide all the pain he felt.

“I have to find him,” Tifa declared, blinking away the tears which were rapidly forming in her eyes. “I have to know.”

Cid nodded. “All right, then.” He turned back to the array of controls in front of him, quickly running through a mental pre-flight check. Praying he didn’t miss any steps, he looked out to the grassy sea on his right side. “Clear right!” There was no one there – who would be – but Cid felt the need to have something a little more mundane than the events of the past week or so. He started the right propeller. It choked once, spinning slowly before it started humming as the blades cut cleaning through the air. A wind from the propeller blew over them.

Shortly after starting the right propeller, he started up the left, getting almost the same results. The Gay Boat was no longer the Gay Boat. The Tiny Bronco would fly again! He poured the power onto the engines, checking to make sure they would run at their maximum speed before bringing them both back to a more moderate and rather slow speed.

“You both ready?!” he called over the noise of the engines, glancing behind him. He received two nods. “Okay, here we go!”

He released the brake on the plane, sending it taxiing over the flat expanse of trampled grass before them. The speed indicator slowly rose as the plane move faster over the plane. Cid watched it carefully, glancing at their diminishing runway. Don’t tell me I made it too short! He thought furiously. Beyond the runway was a nice cliff leading to the ocean. They had better make it.

The needle rose further towards their optimal speed, quivering as the plane ran over bumps in the field. Almost there. He glanced at the drop-off around of them. It was far too close. He’d have to jump the gun and pray. He glanced back down at the little needle. It was close enough, wasn’t it? Sure, it was. He looked back up ahead of him.

Blue sea stretched out. They had less than a few hundred meters before they were pancakes. It’s close enough. He pulled back on the stick, grimacing as the small vehicle shook from the strain. “#$@%!” he cursed. The plane’s nose lifted from the ground, the aircraft swaying a little as it was finally airborne. The plain melting away from them, the wheels of the small ship meters from the edge of the cliff.

Stall warnings buzzed in the open air cockpit, a small light blinking on the control panel. It would shut off sooner or later as they gained height. Cid grimaced. Hopefully.

Tifa slapped him on the shoulder. He leaned back to look at her frowning face. “Why the hell’d you put the freakin’ runway leading to a cliff?!” she demanded, her tone clearly disapproving.

Cid shrugged. “Sorry?”

She whacked him again. “Yeah, you’d better be. You almost got us killed before we even got to Cloud!” She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms indignantly. So far, this trip was not going well, but she was on her way. She would find him; she wouldn’t be alone, not anymore. And if he didn’t love her, then so be it. But she had to try. By the last breath in her heart-broken body, she had to try.

Barret’s gaze slowly took in all the people seated at the table in the Seventh Heaven, his brown eyes hard with the upcoming mission. They had to break Reeve and Reno from the Shinra jail before something bad happened to them. Barret frowned. He didn’t particularly relish thought of him being on the same side as the Turks, but for Tifa’s sake, he would be. He didn’t have much of a choice.

He cleared his throat. “All right. We all here?” he asked, though the answer was clearly obvious. There were nods from around the table. “Good. As y’all know, we’re gonna be breakin’ Reno an’ Reeve from the slam. Any complaints ’bout that?” There were none. “Good, ’cause I don’t give a damn whatchall think, got that? This is my show, and we’re gonna do this AVALANCHE style.”

Elena coolly arched an eyebrow. “This should be interesting. I wonder what Reno might think,” she said. “We’ve never done anything any way other than Turk style.”

Barret glowered at her, but he could find nothing that hinted toward an insult or jeer. “All right. We’re gonna go in da front door, give ’em all somethin’ ta remember us by, grab Reno and Reeve, and haul ass. Any complaints?”

Once again, there were none. No one seemed to care which way they went about doing this, just as long as it got done. Yuffie barely stifled a yawn. Somehow, it seemed like they were about to do something as normal as the laundry. It was slightly unnerving.

Barret stood up, stretching out the muscles in his back. “Seeming how’s there’re no complaints, I’m gonna assume that y’all agree with dis course o’ action. I expect no mishaps and no screw-ups. Ya got that?” Nods around the table. “Good. Keep yo cool ’til tonight. That’s when the real fun begins.”

“Your friends are coming,” Aeris declared as she stepped from the shadows, her voice as sweet as honeydew.

Cloud recoiled from her as though she were some sort of poisonous snake, waiting for him to put his guard down so that she could strike. Or worse. She was the black widow, sizing up her mate. He shivered. He wouldn’t let her close to him. Not now. Not after that last time.

very amusing, o pathetic one… pathetic one…

Cloud grimaced against the voice, frowning at the words echoing through his skull. “Go away,” he muttered. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Aeris mistakenly thought he was talking to her. “What? Don’t you care that your friends are coming to free you from this eternal nightmare?” She reached her hand out to him. He slunk away from it. “Don’t you want their help?”

He pushed his back up against the wall, slinking back into the corner. “Get away from me,” he growled. “When Tifa gets her, she’ll– ”

“She’ll what?!” Aeris snapped as she pulled her hand back. “She can’t do crap to help you. I don’t even know why she hangs around you. You’re an ungrateful cesspool of slime, delving your own hurt until you’ve look at it so long your eyes start to bleed!” Her lips compressed into a thin line as her emerald eyes flashed angrily. “She probably keeps you around because it makes her feel more controlling.”

there’s a thought, proud cloud… what do you think?

“Shut up,” Cloud snapped, his own face hardening with anger. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? Why else would someone want a worthless piece of crap like you? You certainly have a thing for hurting everyone around you. Tifa probably feels better when she can see that there’s someone in this world more oppressed than her. She probably looks at you and feels strong. I know I do.”

Cloud shook his head. “You’re a bloody liar. I won’t listen to you anymore.”

Aeris frowned. “You’re going to listen to me until your ears bleed, and your throat is raw from screaming at me to stop.” Her features darkened over. “And do you know why you’ll do this? Because I know everything. You are merely a doll beneath my fingertips to push and prod and twist and turn until I tire of you, and then you are nothing. Your friends are nothing. They will arrive here, and they will die.”

The laughter echoed through the room, Aeris’ and the voice within Cloud’s head.

proud cloud, proud cloud, sing and dance and twist… silly puppet, silly, silly puppet, let me pull your strings… forever and always until finally in death do we part from this… proud, proud cloud, don’t you see? it’s all so simple, these painfully simplistic things… you the puppet, i the puppeteer, together we’ll make them laugh and cheer… you the puppet and i the master, the tears will run free, the cries be our laughter… puppet, puppet, puppet, puppet, proud cloud, the puppet…

And finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “SHUT UP!” he screamed, his throat burning from the force of his cry. All the sadistic merriment stopped on the word, Aeris’ laughter abruptly stopping as though cut off by the sharpest blade. The voice even quieted in his head, chuckling softly to himself in the back of Cloud’s mind.

“I’m going to kill you, Aeris,” he hissed, his anger seething.

Aeris stared at as though he was truly a force that could and would kill. And then, she smirked. “Maybe later, Cloud,” she said sweetly. “I wouldn’t want to miss the reunion. You know how touching those things are.” She clutched a hand at her breast. “Right here.”

She laughed as she exited the room, disappearing back into the shadows. Cloud couldn’t stop the tears from flowing from his eyes as the pain of his battered body and soul returned to him, over-taking his anger easily. He fell back to the wall weakly.

“God, Tifa, don’t come here,” he whispered, his mind thinking up all the nasty things that awaited his friends. “Leave me alone. Don’t come. Please, Tifa.”

The only response he got was a bout of laughter reverberating through his skull, burning his mind with its icy cruelty. He closed his eyes in an attempt to free himself from the sound, hoping to fall into the troubled waters of his sleep.

silly puppet…

“Oh, &$*#.”

Tifa straightened at the choice words bubbling from the man seated in front of her. She leaned forward, glancing at the dizzying array of knobs and gauges littering the control panel in front of Cid. She turned her gaze on the side of his head.

“What does that mean?” she asked, a feeling of dread sinking into her stomach. She absentmindedly wondered if Red was right. Maybe this bucket of bolts really wouldn’t make it. She shook the thought from her head.

“It means I just realized that I don’t know where to land this piece of crap, and we don’t have enough fuel to go circling around,” he explained. He scratched his brow, squinting into the wind to look for their destination.

“So what? I can’t even see where we’re going to land.”

He sighed. “It’s that gentle slope on the horizon.” He pointed, but it was to no avail. She didn’t know what she was looking for. “We’re about fifteen minutes to the shore. We should make it, but… I dunno. We might not.”

Tifa sat back in her seat, startled. “What do you mean, ‘We might not’? We have the fuel to get there, don’t we?”

Cid tried a smile grin, but failed miserably. “I thought so. Must’ve hit a harder head wind than I planned for. Oh, well.”

“Oh, well?” She resisted the urge to smack him. “You mean we’re gonna crash, or what?”

“Probably or what. We still can make it. Trust me.”

Tifa crossed her arms indignantly, silently fuming. She should have thought of this. Leave it to Cid not to pack enough gas to make it to their destination. It wasn’t as if they could make a pit stop or two on the way there. She glanced back at Vincent who merely gave her half a shrug. He seemed not to care about their impeding doom, but that was Vincent. She turned back to the horizon.

Her gaze searched the horizon, finally spotting the tawny beach against the blue of the sea. It was so far away; they’d never make it. If they didn’t make it, Cloud would be forever lost. They had to make it to the shore. Even if she had to swim until infinity took her in its grasp, she would. It was too late to turn back because she got a little wet. She couldn’t afford to even think about not making it to her destination. Cloud couldn’t afford it.

The small slope got bigger and bigger in her view until she could see the breaking point of the waves, white froth bubbling from the dark blue depths. The plane started to descend at an alarming rate.

“Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!”

Tifa forced herself not to listen constant stream of cursing from Cid, though it underlined even the sputtering of the engines, a thrumming chant. The engines coughed, caught themselves and ran smoothly.

Cid smiled smally in relief. The smile faded quickly, as another alarm displayed itself on the controls. “*&#@!”

“What is it, now?” Tifa demanded.

“Landing gear seems to have jammed itself but good. And we’re running on fumes,” he added. Glancing at the distance that remained to the shore and their rate of descent, he shrugged. “We probably won’t need the gear.”

“What?!”

He turned back to them. “We’re not going to make it to the shore. We’ll hit the water first. It was nice working with you guys. A real pleasure.”

Tifa smacked his shoulder. “You dumbass! Did you know that this was gonna happen?”

He shook his head. “I recommend unbuckling your seatbelts.”

“What are you talking about?” Vincent asked, leaning forward in his seat. “I thought they were there to protect you in crashes.”

“Well, depending on our angle when we hit the water, we could end up flipping forward ’cause of the force. You don’t want to be strapped into the plane when that happens. It ain’t fun. And watch the bubbles.”

“You’ve done this?” Tifa asked, incredulously.

“Sure. Lots o’ times. Any good pilot can crash a plane.”

“Any bad one, too,” Tifa muttered, trying to quench the fear in her as the engines finally died down to nothing. The water lapped hungrily below them, the waves jumping over each other as though the waited for the plane to come play with them. The beach was not far off, the deep blue mellowing out to a more sandy, lighter color as they approached the shore.

This was it.

The plane hit the water, screeching metal filling the air as though the entire plane was crying out in pain. Water sprayed everywhere, drenching all of the plane and its occupants. Tifa’s heart thundered in her throat as she felt herself falling forward, though the plane still clung to her. And then they flipped into the water.

The world turned into a sickly blue shimmering as bubbles and foam erupted in her vision. Her seat belt dug painfully into her abdomen. She should have taken it off when Cid told her to. She fumbled for the latch, her movements far too slow to be natural. The plane continued to push through the water, blissfully unaware of her struggle.

Her lungs burned for oxygen, her head thrumming in time with her heart. The seatbelt came undone, freeing her from this watery prison. Which way was up?! The world seemed to be a monotonous blue, darkened in every direction, the currents swirling around her as they conformed to the plane’s force. All around her were the tiny crystalline sphere of little bubbles, filling her vision with their countenance and her ears with their whispering. The quiet was complete except for that whispering. It was almost as though she was once again in the Lifestream, though the whispers and giggles seemed to hold more pleasant secrets than the haunting demons of that green lake. They told her things, and it suddenly became clearer to her battled head.

Watch the bubbles.

They floated to the surface like they were tiny nymphs coming up for breath after a bout of watery games. She followed their lead, chasing after them and swimming from beneath the broken fuselage of the plane. The wing clipped her leg, and the pain threatened to return her to that panicking fear she had just overcome. She felt herself falling from the promise of the surface.

But she couldn’t lose. She had to get there. Swim until infinity, remember, Tifa? she asked herself. Cloud needs me now. I have to reach him. And so she swam the desperate paddle of a oxygen-starved mind screaming for the sweetened breath of air to relieve it from this slowly suffocating, wet hug.

Her face broke the surface of the water just as she was about to relent and breathe in a mouthful of sea water. The salty liquid sputtered from her gaping jaws as the sweet air entered her lungs. She hungrily gulped it down, the homeless beggar finally eating a never-ending feast of her favorite food. There didn’t seem to be enough.

Water running from her soaked hair, she scanned the lapping waters for any sign of her companions. There was none. Oh, God… She pushed that thought from her mind, slowly paddling to the shore, the cold water of the north already chilling her flesh.

“Cid? Vincent!” Only her own voice echoed back to her. The waves pushed at her harmlessly, sending her to the shores of the beach. Her feet touched muddy ground. She started walking. “Where are you?”

There was no one. No gulls sailing through the air, no cheering voices having fun at the beach. Where were they? “Cid! Vincent! Come on, don’t leave me here!” Her voice cracked as her eyes frantically searched the surrounding serenity. “I don’t want to be alone! Come back! No!” She choked. “Don’t leave…”

Silence reigned complete as she stumbled from the water. She couldn’t believe it. What cruel irony that she would be the one to reach the shores alone and have to save her love alone after all their confidence and her worry. Tifa felt something stinging her eyes but could not discern if it was her salty tears or the salty chill surrounding her. Their confidence couldn’t save them.

As if to spite her, two figures burst through the sleek surface of the water.

Cid coughed, choking on the water as he clung to Vincent for support. His blond hair was matted with crimson over one side of his brow. His breathing was sporadic, more like a shaky sputtering than true respiration. Vincent merely glanced to Tifa as he pulled the other man to the shore. Blood flowed from a cut along his cheekbone, but he seemed to be relatively unhurt.

As they reached the beach, Cid stumbled and fell, getting a face full of saltwater sand. He lay there on his stomach for a moment, catching his breath, before he rolled over onto his back. He had thought he was dead… again. But she wouldn’t allow that, would she? Never. She needed him. Damn her. His eyes found Tifa’s and Vincent’s.

“Perfect landing,” he declared, following his statement up with a bout of coughing.

Vincent frowned, holding out his good hand to help the pilot to his feet. “Why didn’t you tell us you couldn’t swim? Damn.”

Cid took a shaky breath, rubbing the cut on his brow with a pained expression on his face. “I can swim. I just can’t hold my breath.” He brushed some wet sand from his coveralls.

Tifa looked relieved. “I thought you two were dead,” she said, realizing how that meager statement couldn’t cover the panic she had felt.

“My plane’s dead,” Cid stated, almost oblivious to Tifa’s mood. He looked at the remnants of it, slowly sinking into the depths of the sea. Debris was scattered along the water, already washing up on the shore. The sun sank behind them, casting long shadows on the ship’s new grave. “Well, seeming how you’re sinking, you weren’t a very good boat, either. I guess that means you’re just gay.” He sketched a salute to the remains of his most loyal friend as she dropped silently down to her final resting place.

He didn’t turn back to Tifa and Vincent for quite some time, one thought running repeatedly through his head. The lake of death from Aeris’ dream, the lake of blood… it started here. The first casualty was slowly leaving this world forever.

He couldn’t find it in his heart to say who was next.

“So what do you want to do?” Reeve asked, glancing at the door. The three men – well, two men and a toysaurus – hadn’t quite figured out how this discovery, or thievery in accordance to Reno, could lead to their ultimate escape from this prison.

Reno glanced at the five rounds left in the magazine for what must have been the hundredth time that hour. There didn’t seem to be much to do other than look over his silvery, shining Smith & Wesson 1056 which he had so recently recovered from the inside of a giant stuffed mog. He shrugged. “I dunno.”

Cait Sith crossed his arms across his furry chest, his face downcast and clouded over with anger. “We’re in the same position as we used to be except now we’ve gotta gun. Any bright ideas about how we should go about using it?”

“Well, you pull the trigger – ”

“The sarcasm is unappreciated, Reno,” Cait Sith declared, his tone unusually harsh for him. “What we need now is a way outta here, not your snappy remarks. You’ll see how well witticism worked when you get the chance to look in the mirror.”

“Jeez,” Reno muttered. “Someone’s getting snippy over here.”

“Damn right I’m getting snippy!” the cat snapped, jumping to his feet. “I’m tired of being cooped up in here like some sort of chicken, my mog is slowly degenerating into a state of total hollowness, I’m hungry, and I’m tired of hearing your stupid comments!”

“Reno’s fan club is slowly deteriorating into nothingness.”

All three heads snapped to the door, forgetting their own inner squabble when the red face of Heidegger and two grinning guards filled their vision. The man was dressed in another garish green suit, red and yellow military stripes decorating its lapel. His piggish eyes, encased deeply inside his square face, glowed with mirth at his own wit. Reno slapped his forehead with one hand, irritation displayed on his expression. Frowning, his raised the handgun with his left.

“Eat this, you commie bastards,” he growled. He fired the gun twice, taking down both of the guards flanking Heidegger. Their smiles disappeared as the bullets drilled into their brains, ripping through their skulls like a rock through the fragile layer of ice upon a newly frozen pond. No sound emerged from their open mouths as they both toppled to the floor, lifeless.

Heidegger squeaked an oath as he fled from the room, ducking as Reno fired a shot after him. He tripped as he started down the hall, grabbing the railing of the set of emergency stairs to steady himself before climbing them. Reno frowned when the executive left the small cell, standing up quickly to give him chase.

“Get back here!” he shouted, anger clearly evident in his entire stature. He jumped over the corpses clogging the doorway and into the hall, firing another shot after Heidegger’s retreating form.

“Reno!” Reeve called, exiting the room. The red-haired Turk was already down the hall, running up the steps after the Shinra executive. “Wait up! Damn.” He glanced back in the room. “Cait, get your butt outta here and back to the Seventh Heaven. We’ll catch you up.”

The little cat was dubious as he pulled his mog to its feet. “What if I get caught again?” he asked, hustling to the door.

Reeve frowned. “Just do as I say!” he snapped. He turned heel and ran to the stairs, taking them two by two. The sound of one more shot echoed through the stairwell, reverberating off of the cold steel walls. A muttered curse was barely audible over the clanging of footsteps on the steps.

Reeve’s frown deepened considerably. Someone was not happy, and Heidegger was going to feel the same way soon. Reeve turned the corner of the steps, running up the next flight of stairs. Another curse. Very soon.

Barret scratched the back of his head, staring deeply at the scene in front of him. Two guards, both looking quite bored, kept a taciturn vigil over the front doors of the Shinra building. It was quiet, and only a few of the street’s urchins and solicitors bothered to even give the two guards a glance. Evidently, nothing was happening.

But it didn’t feel right.

Something was up, even if the large man didn’t know exactly what. It was his gut feeling, derived from years of running from the law and from the Shinra. It had saved his life and the lives of others on countless occasions during which he had terrorized the faithful followers of Shinra, Inc. It was nothing to be taken lightly.

“It’s too quiet,” Elena whispered softly. “I don’t like it.”

Barret glanced back at her. “Ya get that feelin’?” He looked back to the ominous tower looming before them. “Well, something’s up.”

Red XIII flicked his tail back and forth, watching the main entrance with his keen eye. “What do you want to do?” he asked. “They have little defense for the company prestigious for security. They’ve got to be hiding something.”

Barret shrugged. “But we can’t just sit here on our asses. Much as I hate that little fat ass, we oughtta see him home.”

“And Reno,” Elena added almost a little too fervently. Rude and Yuffie exchanged knowing glances. Yuffie held a hand to her mouth to cover up a giggle. “What?” Elena asked, noticing the exchange. “You got a problem? You can take it up with my lawyer.”

Yuffie’s response was to only giggle louder. Barret stifled it with a glare as cold as nails and hard as a rock. “’Nuf of that,” he ordered. “We ain’t gonna give ourselves away ’cause some foo’ woman’s laughing her head off.”

Yuffie pouted, crossing her arms, offended. “I’m not a ‘foo’ woman’,” she declared, her tone curt. She shifted from foot to foot impatiently when no one responded to her. She uncrossed her arms, annoyed. “Well, team leader, what’re we gonna do? Sit here in the dark until the end of the world?”

Barret glared at her but said nothing in response to her. He tore his gaze from her and set it back on the building before him, forcing his mind back to the task at hand. “I guess we’ll just wait ’til something happens.”

She planted her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “And if nothing does?” she asked, piqued.

Barret gaze remained glued on the top of the tower. He nodded smally, his brown eyes narrowing considerably. “Something’s gonna happen, alright,” he stated simply. “I can feel it. It’s in the air.” He stared morosely at the door. “Come on, we gotta Turk ta free.”

“Now, Reno, don’t you think you’re being a little too hasty, here?” Heidegger glanced around him, looking for a way out of the situation but doubting he would find one. He raised his hands, gulping as he looked down the barrel of the handgun.

Reno stood before him, his dark eyes glowing with anger. Bruises around his jaw and cheekbone accentuated the foul mood and rage that was barely evident on his stone cold face. Blood slowly dribbled down the side of his head from the cut on his brow, leaving a crimson path that was almost invisible beneath his cloak of red hair.

“Why don’t you put the gun down and we can talk about this like civilized beings? You know man to man?” He swallowed, gulping a mouthful of air. “You know, there must be something you want from me. I can get you anything! Anything!”

“I don’t want anything from you,” he said softly, his tone as empty as space yet as cold as the stars that twinkled dimly at night. “I hate you. With every beat of my heart, I’m reminded of you. With every throb of pain pulsing through my head, I’m reminded of every whack and every cheap shot you ever gave me, and I’m pissed off.”

“It was a simple misunderstanding!”

Reno brought the gun up, re-aiming it and shifting his grip. “Misunderstanding? A misunderstanding. They only misunderstanding there is, is your miscomprehension of what it means when you piss a Turk off. I can give you a crash course.” He stepped forward menacingly.

Heidegger stepped back, stumbling over his feet as he walked out onto the balcony. The wind whipped relentlessly at his face, biting at his hands and cheeks with the numbing teeth of cold. Heidegger would gladly spend the rest of his life in this chill if it meant staying out of Reno’s cold, angry scrutiny.

Reno stepped out after Heidegger, his aim neither faltering nor wavering. His open suit jacket slapped at his sides, his red hair flying around him like the reaching flames of a fiery sun. He was oblivious to the fact that they were standing precariously close to the edge.

“No where left to run, Heidegger,” he commented, glancing down the large tower to the lit streets below with the ease of a man who knows no nervousness. “I guess you lose.”

“No wait, Reno!” Heidegger urged. “Don’t shoot! I didn’t do anything to you; it was Scarlet. I can help you get her!”

Reno frowned. “Heidegger, there’s only one thing I hate more than a fat sheep dressed in wolf’s clothing. That’s a little lying weasel like you dressed in wolf’s clothing. Goodbye.”

“Reno!”

The word cut through the bitter cold air like a whip, a loud warning. Reno wasn’t visibly shaken by the harsh tone, nor was he entirely surprised to hear it. He turned his head slightly to look at Reeve. Heidegger looked as though he’d been saved by his guardian angel.

“Reeve, you gotta help me! He’s gone mad!” Heidegger stumbled precariously close to the edge, a blast of wind hitting him hard. “He’s a box of fruit loops!”

“Ah, shut up,” Reno growled. He pulled back on the trigger.

Heidegger’s heart thundered in his throat, his breath catching as Reno’s finger pulled back on the trigger. God, this is it, he thought, his fists clenching. Please be kind to me in the after life. He steeled himself for the shot.

Click.

Even the howling of the wind seemed quiet underneath the pounding of his heart. I’m alive! I’m alive! He clutched as his chest, a grin coming to his face. “I’m alive!” he screamed. He jumped up and down merrily for joy. “Loser!”

“Would you shut your fat jowls?!” Reno demanded, rage breaking through his mask. In one solid motion, he brought back his left hand and threw the gun at Heidegger, catching him off guard. The gun whacked the executive in the head with a nasty crack, and Heidegger fell backwards, his arms flailing.

“No! Wait!” He lost his footing and fell from the edge of the balcony, his scream lost in the wicked wind. Reno watched expressionless.

Reeve winced, coming forward to look over the edge of the building. Barely visible in the dim lighting below on the streets was a broken figure of a man surrounded in a widening pool of crimson. He grimaced.

“Remind me, Reno, to pay the street cleaners extra?” he asked, running a hand through his black hair.

Reno sat down on the ground, his knees buckling and giving out beneath him. He held his head in his hands, shaking it slowly. “Oh, God, I can’t believe I just did that,” he declared. His head pounded in time with his heartbeat as a wave of nausea swept over him. He let himself fall back to cement floor. “Damn. I loved that gun.”

© Junj, 1998

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