Section 3

Yuffie Kisargi saw black. It was not the terrifying black one would expect to see when on was slowly dying, but rather it was a comforting infinity that urged her to leave all her worries behind and follow it to the ends of the universe. It made her seem relatively small and insignificant, but that didn’t seem to bother her. She was breathing in its endless currents of nothing, dwelling in loneliness but unaffected by her solitude.

It was oddly comforting.

And then the green came and blinded her, filled her vision with the most painful light. Her heart, which had been so blissfully quiet, thudded loudly through her head, coaxing her back to where she belonged. But it was so peaceful here, sleeping silently in the gray area between life and death, teetering over the edge like a wicked seesaw threatening to dump its contents onto the ground with a loud thud.

When she resisted it, it forcefully pulled her back to the light. Pain exploded in her head, a numbing ache filling her body with its dull fire. And then, she remembered something that had been forgotten moments ago, and her brain sent little nerve impulses down her aching spine. Choking on nothing, she drew in a large breath, feeding her oxygen starved body. Sputtering, she drew in air to her aching chest again and again, soothing the fire burning hungrily within her.

After what seemed like years, the fire subsided to little more than the feeling of an overall ache. She felt the warm blood trickling down her temple, but she gave it little heed as she slowly opened her eyes.

No rain.

The world came into focus, sunlight burning holes through the clouds to mottle the destroyed town with tiny rays of light. The rain had stopped, the clouds were dispersing, and a lone meadowlark sung sadly in the distance, crying for the loss of the town and jovial for the start of a beautiful day. A breeze whipped through the shallow plains.

Savior…

The large cavernous room was silent. There was no monotonous trickle of water travelling over the slippery rocks, no splash of a fish jumping through the serene pool. It was as if the entire world within that room was made of stained glass, and the slightest noise would shatter it. Nothing dared to intrude upon its hollow emptiness.

Green light filtered in through a solitary crack in the wall, slipping through and grasping the air like long, twisted fingers. Its dancing tendrils didn’t seem to be in a hurry, skipping across the room as though the situation was merely a game. It had no mind but seemed to have a destination already planned. It was headed for the one thing that was out of place in this peaceful residence.

Rising, lonely, in the middle of the large room was a stone obelisk, grotesquely conspicuous in a room where everything was sterling silver. The statue itself seemed to be carved from life, every feature perfectly captured, every emotion clearly evident on a gargoyle’s deformed face. Rage, surprise, hatred… all locked there for all eternity, unable to be carried out by the owner. The green coiled around it; the statue’s eyes flashed red.

With the speed of a snake, one of the many branches of green lashed out, cracking into the perfectly smooth stone. The impact echoed through the empty room, threatening to break the peace with its ferocity. A piece of stone clattered to the floor from the crack in the statue, hitting the marble with a resounding clamor. Then the silence reigned, broken only by a whispering breeze.

Destroyer…

The green dispersed as the crack in the stone expanded, shattering the still life trapped within the rock. With a cry that screamed only to the ears of the deaf, the statue exploded in a hail of tiny shards of stone that could cut into flesh as easily as any sword. The shards fell to the floor with the tinkle of ice on glass before disappearing, melting to a deep blue and melding with the marble of the floor.

When the cacophony had ended and the silence returned to the room, only one thing remained in the space where the statue had been located. Huddled, cold with grief and sorrow and shadowed with the darkness of his heart, a man shivered though the air was warm and soothing. His long black hair whipped around him in a slight breeze that no one could feel.

And for the first time in a long time, Vincent Valentine cried.

The green moved on through the empty corridors of the vast city, searching. It became more desperate, its time was running short. It had to finish this for him, it had to carry out the work of the Destroyer. It had a purpose to fulfill before returning to the veins of the Planet just as it had had a purpose months before. This time, however, it seemed as though so much more was at stake.

It rounded the corner of the corridor, entering an empty room that was silent except for the sad dripping of water emanating from somewhere in the corner. It was devoid of any kind of life. But this did not damper its resolve, if resolve was what it had. The eerie green light chased away the shadows from their comfortable niches and bathing the room in the eternal bright.

The wind picked up as the green light drew closer to the one thing in the room that seemed out of place. The one thing that shouldn’t be there. The one thing that it had come to vanquish from the peace of the city.

Death.

It didn’t belong here, not again. That foul word that spoke of the stench of rotting flesh and the sight of bloody tears was not supposed to be here again. It was not supposed to take away another loved one, it was not supposed to sneak up on them to snatch away another friend, to bring more hurt, to leave with a little piece of someone’s soul. It wasn’t supposed to happen to them… to him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Icy blue eyes seemed to stare out from the green for a fraction of a second, gone almost before they could be seen.

Giver of life…

The green wrapped around the body, hugging the corpse compassionately as though they had once been best friends in the world, clutching it as though the pain of losing him was far too much to stand, and saving it because there was nothing else left to do.

The green glow disappeared into an explosion of light, which raged far brighter than any stars speckling the sky. The shadows within the room that had been hiding deep in the cracks and crevices within the walls were driven from their concealment, destroyed by the brightness which had come over the entire room.

And when the light died once more, there was nothing.

No green light to fill the cold room with ghostly warmth. No death to curse the ground that the room covered. The shadows crept back to their niches, and the water continued on its journey from the ceiling through the chilly air to collect in a crystal pool on the floor.

There was one rasping breath.

Another.

And a muttered curse.

The water continued to drip as though the room was weeping.

"Cloud…" Tifa whispered, holding his rapidly cooling hand within hers. There were no struggling breaths, no lines of pain and hurt wrinkling his face, no tears of sorrow. Wherever he was now, locked behind those closed eyes, had to be better than what he had left. There was one thing that he had in this life other than the pain he felt too often.

He had had her love. And he would continue to receive her love even though he was not there. He reciprocated her feelings; that was all she needed to know to be at peace with herself. All the unspoken words and missed opportunities… that was in the past now. They had shared one moment together with all the walls broken down and forgotten, a moment that would live as long as she carried it deep within her heart. All the rest was history.

She fell over him and cried for her loss.

A warm hand grasped her shoulder, clutching it with soothing gentleness despite its massive size. She glanced at it before turning her teary gaze up to meet two mild, brown eyes gazing upon her with the compassion of someone who knows the pain of losing a loved one. And as she gazed deeply within his eyes, she knew that she would never be truly alone with friends like those she had, but she would never again know love like that which she had felt for Cloud.

"We lost so many good people to the Planet, now," Barret said softly. "It’s high time we got somethin’ in return ’sides the satisfaction of knowin’ the world was safe from power hungry monstrosities."

Tifa broke her gaze, shaking her head slowly. "Isn’t that enough? This life isn’t fair." She let out a breath of air. "Cloud saved us from death. Cloud saved them, Barret."

The meaning of her words seemed to be lost on the larger man as Red XIII and a bruised and battered Yuffie walked slowly to where they were all gathered around the body of one of the best friends any of them would ever had. Tifa slowly stood, gazing sadly down upon the incarnation of her love’s death.

She smiled smally. It was almost as though he was quietly sleeping, eyes closed peacefully, cherubic in his silent slumber, oblivious to the debris that was scattered around him. Tifa smiled through her tears. This would be how she remembered him. Goodnight, my angel. She leaned over and kissed him gently one last time, pressing her lips against his. Then she ran soft fingertips lightly across his forehead, down over the heavenly eyes that would never glow again, across his cheek… A tear dripped down onto his lips. Goodnight.

Barret bent over, picking up Cloud’s limp form with a little difficulty and cradling him. He turned from the spot where the scorched remains of the dragon scarred the ground. "Let’s go," he declared as he began walking.

The others followed him, slowly sauntering back to where the Highwind was rising majestically against the crystal blue skies. Tifa took in her surroundings once more, the broken houses, scattered debris, cloudless skies, salty air. A small breeze whipped around her hair carrying with it the smell of the ocean.

The ashes scattered in the wind.

A man walked into the scorched ruins of a once perfectly ornate town, favoring his left leg considerably. He was oblivious to the sweet-smelling air that blew over the debris from the surrounding plains. The stink of death was too new at this place to be merely covered up by sweet grass and pungent salts. Underneath the rubble that lined the ground were bodies, crushed and battered, taken out while they were blissfully unaware of the war that had briefly raged outside of their homes.

It made him sick. The ignorance of people. How could they be so blind to the fact that their world was dying, slowly but surely? Or maybe they were blind because they didn’t want to look. He snorted disdainfully, unable to not envy their misguided ignorance, wishing that he could feel the same way. But he was cursed with a promise.

The breeze sent his black cloak slapping at his heels, whipping the fabric around his legs in a particularly violent gust. An intricately folded piece of paper was blown across the dusty ground at his feet, tumbling in the wind, a crane with shattered wings that was still trying to fly. The story of mankind.

And it was destined to happen again and again, an infinite circle that would continue for as long as man lived upon this world. And when they no longer dwelled on the Planet, there was bound to be some other corrupt creature capable of thinking too much for its own good. And then it would start again.

So he did the only thing he could do. He delayed the inevitable. Keep away the means and all that will be left are the crackpot ideas. The ideas would always be there. But materials could disappear back to their origin. They would again.

He kicked up the ashes of the dragon, smudging the soot into the ground as he searched. His foot hit something solid in the remains, and he crouched to examine the black piece of rock his search had found. He wiped the dirt from its glimmering surface, a frown on his lips as he straightened.

"All you’re killing is yourself," he declared softly, though there was no one around to hear his words much less heed them. He knew the Planet had heard. He just wished he could understand why it would always happen, why it would repeat itself like a bad saying.

Satisfied with his finding, however, he just shrugged off the incomprehension and limped away, out of the dead town, leaving the dead corpses and sickly smelling debris to the carrion birds.

And thus it ended.

The world had nearly been shattered by anger and hatred and violence. It had nearly been destroyed once more. Yet, that seemingly inevitable obliteration of all life had once again been prevented.

The sun rose and set.

The winds blew.

And life lived.

It would all grow again. Defeat and destruction are a momentary state. No matter how hard one tries to beat down life, to snuff out its seemingly fragile existence, it always rose again, like the green of spring bursting from the desolate cold of winter. To some, it is the greatest gift. To others, it is the worst curse. The trees would rise from the ashes, sprout from saplings, grow with fervent energy towards the heavens. The flowers would bloom from the Planet, filling the air with pollen and pungent aromas. The animals would eventually return, crawling out from their refuge and once again populating the world. And man would rebuild what he had lost, regain what was nearly stolen. And he would continue to, in fact, take for granted everything that had nearly slipped through his grubby fingers.

The endless cycle would continue. The pattern regains itself. The rise and fall of power would forever rise and fall because it was meant to do so. Lifestream filled the Planet with illustrious and heavenly life, and until that Promised Land was empty, life would always rise again.

People don’t know that they cannot kill life. They can only kill themselves.

So what, then, was it worth? Why had those that fought, and that continue to fight, sacrificed themselves to preserve life when life would always preserve itself? Why struggle to snuff out power and hate and anger when it would only embody itself again and again, take a new form, a new shape, but the same old lust for hurt would remain? Why was it worth saving humanity, when humanity didn’t understand the magnitude of what had happened? It couldn’t comprehend that power was a momentary status. It didn’t understand that the petty wars and violence only hurt itself. It couldn’t understand that life was indestructible. One can kill a man, but one cannot ever kill life. Life finds a way.

Why, then, had he sacrificed himself?

Because all life, in its basic most generic state, was worth fighting for.

Perhaps men weren’t meant to understand that life was indomitable. Perhaps humanity was unable to comprehend that the Promised Land is a promise, a promise that life would continue after they had gone. Perhaps man was destined to live in a life he had no control over. Man sees life through a very narrow perspective. There is a war, a struggle for power. Good triumphs over evil. Man thinks that is where it ends. He sees a finite sequence of events. He does not see the cycle. This one victory was not the end to evil. It would rise again and fall again.

Maybe one fought to preserve man’s right to live in the dark. To not understand the greater scheme and not be troubled by the cycle of life and death, of good and evil. Maybe the satisfaction one receives from knowing one had defeated the evil for the time being was enough to make that fight worth while. Life would always go on. Those that fought fought so it would not be troubled with the understanding of the violence of nature. The sun would rise. The winds would blow. And man would live. Life would live. It was over.

Thus it ended, and life continued to continue in blessed ignorance.

Yuffie Kisargi was sitting alone on the cold stone floor of the City of the Ancients, her thoughts a muddle. So much had happened, so much had been lost and regained, and she hadn’t known how important it had been until it was gone. She had one person to thank for her life, and she couldn’t even do that anymore.

If only she had said something to him earlier. If only she had given a damn when he had been captured instead of stealing his materia and leaving him for dead. If only she had cared for anything other than her greed.

She was such a fool. She felt the tears stinging her eyes and bit her lips to stop their fall. She didn’t want to cry; crying was for little babies and people who couldn’t handle hurt. Crying was for people who had too much self-pity to handle and for people who weren’t strong enough to withstand the pain of loss. She wasn’t like that. She wouldn’t cry. But she was so stupid.

She ran her finger along the smooth edge of the Ultima Weapon, wishing that it would flash brightly with that inner light that always appeared in it when Cloud would hold it, wishing that it would flare to life with the brilliant white. But it didn’t, and it never would again. Her silly antics had seen to that.

How could she have been so blind?

He had been so nice to her. He had never hurt her, never yelled at her, never cursed her off for her own foolish stupidity. How could she have ignored her feelings? There was some small part of her that loved him, as much as any girl feels for the friend who was always there for her, and there was the larger part of her that cared for him. But she hadn’t been strong enough to save him. She hadn’t been able to overcome her greed for power. She was no better than the old man that used to reside in that big office on top of the Shinra tower. She was a selfish brat.

And it was too late for amends, too late for apologies, too late for one muttered "thank you" to the man who had gone through too much trouble to save her time and again. There was nothing she could do to repay the debt he had placed on her, but somehow she knew that he didn’t want her to even attempt to repay that debt. Maybe he hadn’t seen it as a special care for her, maybe it was all an obligation, all duty…

Regardless of what it had been and regardless of what it was now, he had given her a gift that she was going to keep forever. He had shown her what she was, he had somehow given her a way to right her numerous wrongs, given her a second chance at doing the right thing in life. No more greedy fingers, no more corrupt morals.

A small smiled appeared on her lips. "Stealing is wrong," she whispered, setting the Ultima Weapon down on the cold stone of the floor. "May no grave robber ever come here, and may you sleep here undisturbed for all eternity."

She stood slowly, stretching her legs. The water reflecting the light on the ceiling as she glanced about, and for a fraction of a second, she could have sworn that the mighty sword laying upon the stone picked up the light and glowed briefly with it, all of the materia glimmering for one glorious moment.

"Thank you, Cloud."

Following the old friends from the time before this tragedy, she walked out of the room they had vacated hours before and began the long trek home, leaving behind a friend but carrying all those warm memories deep inside her heart.

Tifa Lockhart watched from a distance as Yuffie walked slowly from the City of the Ancients, wading through the tall grasses. The young woman quickly disappeared from her sight in the dark night, and she turned her gaze back to the starry sky.

It was a breath taking sight, comparable to only one other night that she remembered vividly. Well, Cloud this is no well, she thought sadly. No more promises that we can’t keep, no more vows to live and die with and no more pain. She shook her head, falling back into the grass, feeling the blades pierce into her skin through her thin clothing.

She couldn’t help but think that they had lied to each other that day. She couldn’t help second guessing her decision when she told him that he had kept his promise. Was it really true? Had he ever saved her from his pain? That was the one thing from which he couldn’t save himself. He couldn’t have saved her if he was slowly dying.

And look what his pain had got him. He was dead. He could no longer save anyone, he could no longer love her, he could no longer be with her. He was with Aeris now. Tifa frowned. Did he love Aeris more than he loved her? Was it physically possible to love two people at the same time? Or was she just trying to fool herself?

Damn promises.

Life was full of things that couldn’t be kept. No one could ever keep a promise. No one would ever want to. It was just a bunch of words sworn with fingers crossed behind your back. No one ever meant anything by them. No one ever cared.

But as she stared up at the black velvet sky that was speckled with little teardrops, she knew that he hadn’t lied to her. He loved her, he had said so in his dying breath. He had said the words, he had sworn that he’d be her protector and savior, and he had meant every syllable. It was not just a wasted breath, it wasn’t just a bunch of pretty paper hearts glued on a cheesy love letter. It had been real. It had been the truth.

She sighed. There had been no closure of that truth, though. No end to the promise. The stars blurred together as her eyes grew teary. What had he meant when he asked her to marry him? He had known there would be no way she could do so. He had known he was going to die. He had made that choice. He had made the decision to use whatever power had been invested within him to bring back his friends. That must have been one last attempt to heal his hurt.

He hadn’t been weak.

He had enough strength to save them all.

A star streaked past in the black sky, falling down to the earth as though it was wishing her luck without him. Or maybe it had been just one more falling star. She wondered if it had been Cloud’s star, finally breaking loose from the dark seas of nothing to plummet through space and join the rest of the forgotten heroes. The star winked out of existence.

Cid Highwind looked away from the falling star, no wish in his mind and no dreams left in his heart. They had all died on that night, bled from his soul like the blood from his body. All his lifelong desires and wants had been run through, had been destroyed, had been wiped from existence. There was nothing left to live for when you had already died.

But then there was her.

Cid sighed as he turned back to the small house in Rocket Town, his eyes wandering to where warm yellow light seeped from behind the window’s curtains. Somehow he had known, somehow Cloud had been able to read him like an open book. And for some strange reason, had valued what he read more than what he had felt.

Why give his life for an old pilot who had little time on this forsaken planet to grow older with rusting planes and a woman who must hate him? Why make the ultimate sacrifice for someone who had little enough going for him as it was?

And then there was Tifa. Goddamn Cloud for leaving Tifa. She was all alone now. She couldn’t even turn to him. He shook his head sadly, taking a long drag off his cigarette and exhaling the smoke unto the breeze. She never said it, but he could tell. She couldn’t even look at him now. She didn’t want to blame him, but she did. Every time he caught a glimpse into her eyes, he could see it hiding there like an untamed beast. She hated him. She hated him for taking away Cloud’s life for his own.

If he had his way, he would’ve stayed dead.

There was nothing left on this Planet now except a few people who had nothing left to lose. Every single time it was rebuilt, the Planet found new and exciting ways to destroy it. They ought to just leave the debris as it was to stay upon the earth forever as a constant reminder of what happens to people when they get too damn cocky. He didn’t know why the Planet didn’t just blow them all away and save itself the trouble of having stupid people exploiting it, of rebuilding their shattered lives upon it, of living on it. The people on this world could just carry on, walking over the ruins instead of salvaging something from them.

And here he was, being a hypocrite. Here he was, standing alone outside his front door, ready to start the long trek back to how his life had been, ready to rebuild what had fallen and make it stronger for the next time. He was no better than the last.

And here he was, a velvet box tucked within the pocket of his black slacks, ready for the future but unable to keep his eyes off the past. What good was it to move forward if your eyes were always turned back? You couldn’t see what was ahead, only what you’d left behind. It was time to look forward again.

Cid steeled himself for this moment, his hand poised to knock on the hardwood door that had been set squarely within its frame, to change his life forever. But he stopped. Something stopped him. He turned away from the door. She must hate him. She must hate him even more now that he had actually apologized. But she could find a fault in that, too. He didn’t have the courage to say anything to her face.

"I’m such a coward," he declared to the night sky. Who would have thought that popping the question would be so hard? What if she no? What if she said yes? He muttered a curse. And he didn’t even have Cloud left to ask for advice.

How would you ask someone to marry you?

Cid grimaced. Their last conversation had been spent on something as idiotic as that. Asking someone to marry you. He snorted. Two bachelors trying to figure out how to woo their honeys. They probably should have just written to Abbey.

He set his teeth and turned back to the door. This was what Cloud had given him. A second chance. Another try. He couldn’t screw things up now. He wouldn’t squander this. He wouldn’t just walk away like he had all his life. It was time to take some action, and, regardless of the answer, at least he wouldn’t have Cloud’s death beating down on his conscience.

I hear getting on you knees is traditional.

Cid nodded as he pulled the ring case from his pocket and knelt down, one knee barely touching the ground. He knocked twice on the door, the hollow sound reverberating through his skull. Soft footfalls were muffled by the door. He could practically see her stepping lightly to the door.

This was it. This could change his life forever.

The door opened, and the warm yellow light floated out onto the darkness to melt away the shadows.

Barret peered through the open door, watching the light skitter across the floor and until the sleeping face of his daughter. Her young face was relaxed with her dreams, dreams he could only hope were peaceful. There would be no peaceful dreams for him for a long time, not after what had transpired.

The last few days made the entire ordeal with Sephiroth seem like a piece of cake. It had been relatively simple back then; he had had one reason for fighting. He had saved the world for Marlene. He wanted her to grow up in a place where the people could live without the fear of being exploited by those who thirsted for power. He had fought for her. But what had he been fighting for this time? They had won their freedom, they had won their lives back.

So why had he risked his life for nothing? He stepped into the room, slowly closing the door behind him. His footsteps were soft on the wooden floor, too quiet to disturb his sleeping daughter. He stopped at the window, the pale moonlight streaming in sadly.

And with the pale light, came the answers to his questions.

He had done it, he had fought and killed out of friendship. For perhaps the first time since Dyne, he had had true friends, friends that were willing to stand by him and fight for him. He hadn’t known that in a lone time. He hadn’t known loyalty like that, he hadn’t known care like that in years.

And now he had lost it again.

A man he had deemed to be so cold and uncaring had actually been more kind at heart than he. And now that man was gone, dead. His death had split them all up, destroyed the team, sent them all on their own way possibly never to see each other again. All they would have were the memories, and memories were a sad comparison with the real compassion. So many things were lost in memories. They would fade with time like the friendships often slowly withered away like so many rocks upon a stream’s bed.

Nothing could last in a world where the people who cared were the ones who were killed. It was as though the entire scheme of things was to be as mean and bitter as possible within a lifetime. But a lifetime of bitterness wasn’t worth a second of concern. He would never find friends like those he had once had again.

He didn’t know if it was for better or for worse. At least now there would be no more hateful words between them to drive a wedge of ice into the stone. The rocks had already crumbled. But that didn’t make it any less painful or make him any less angry.

He didn’t know who was at fault, so he blamed the same men and women he had always turned the fault on. His eyes found them in the night sky. "Damn you, Shinra," he whispered softly, though the hate and disgust that was often held in those words had been replaced with the pain and hurt of someone who had lost just a little bit too much.

Rising high into the sky, the large Shinra tower seemed to glower at him, silhouetted by the sad face of the moon.

Reeve frowned as the pale sphere within the black sky glowered at him, seeming to place the blame directly on him. It wasn’t his fault that the world had almost gone to hell once more. He had had nothing to do with it.

He turned from his window and leaned forward at his desk, hitting a button on the tape player before him. The monotonous voice of Dr. Nygel Huiji filled the large office with the emotional register of a man who has accepted the fact that he was going to die.

"I have made a terrible mistake.

"I started on this long journey on a quest for science, and yet as I finish this final leg of the trek, I have discovered that the science has gotten lost at some time along the way. Where it was lost, I have forgotten. Why I never reclaimed it, I do not know. All I do know is that this has all been one long nightmare of misguided folly and lunacy which has been masquerading as a fruitful dream of glory and power.

"I once swore never to be like Hojo. Never to be a sadist. Never to be a fool. I, too, have been misguided. I, too, got lost somewhere along the way. I have looked back upon my actions and have only seen all the transgressions which mar my past. There are few little things that have done correctly, few things which can be counted to be in the name of science, or, in this case, the name of mankind. I am no better than Hojo, if not worse. I have taken the life of one man and twisted it to do my bidding. I have wheedled my way into his mind and soul, bending his words and thoughts. I have disregarded his life. I have used him and abused him and broken him so that he would fit into the grand scheme of things.

"The fit was tighter than I thought.

"Perhaps, in the end, I was right. The Destroyer was created to protect, not to destroy. Perhaps, he should have been given a more fitting name, yet I know of no other word that the Ancients would have used to describe him. To kill to protect the Planet, that is what the Destroyer must do.

"No one else shall attempt to create the Promised Land. He will see to that. I will see to that. With my death, goes the knowledge and the science. I have found the science once more and now it will be lost again. I can only pray that no one shall uncover this science. May it rest in peace, never to be sought for by mankind again.

"I’m sorry."

The tape stopped with a click, nothing left to be heard. Reeve reached forward and ejected it, pulling the little black cartridge from the player. He held it up for a moment, staring at it as though it had all the answers to the world. His gaze moved from the tape to the man sitting in front of him.

"I want you to be my witness to this," he declared, pulling a lighter from his desk’s drawer. He flicked the flame to life, watching as it flicker in unseen air currents. He brought the small fire to the edge of the tape, holding the flame there until the tape caught the blaze. He dropped the tape into the metal waste can, letting the papers within it catch and feed the fire. "This tape never existed," he said softly. "The knowledge died with him."

Reno leaned back in his chair, oblivious to the smoke rising out of the can. His eyes found Reeve’s. "Maybe," he commented. "Someone knew what we were looking for. It was gone before we could even get a whiff."

Reeve turned back to the window, staring out at the depthless, black sky. He sighed, shaking his head. "May God help us."

His eyes searched the horizon but found nothing to focus on. Where the huge observatory had once been cradled neatly on top of Cosmo Canyon, there was nothing. There was a hole, another reminder of Nygel’s slander. The Planet may forgive, Doctor, but I never will. The emptiness of the canyon’s high walls, the barely discernable bit of rubble, seemed to second his thought.

The debris was all that was left. A few collapsed walls, a couple of scorched scraps of metal, shattered glass. It was the all the scattered remains of Bugenhagen. It was gone. Everything. Gone.

Red XIII blinked the tears forming in his one eye. He had lost his grandfather and his father and his friend. He hadn’t been strong enough to defend Cosmo Canyon. He was a failure. He was just like his father.

A memory came to him. Seto, locked in stone, cold as ice, had cried upon seeing his son. He had been proud. What was there to be proud of now? Nothing. He had failed his father and his town. He had even failed Cloud. He had stayed with them to help save him. His death had been the last mark on a record full of marks. He had failed his friends. What was he to do now? Rebuild what little scraps of a life this dead town had left? No one would stay; no one would live under the protection of a failure. He couldn’t protect them. They would leave him.

He turned from the debris and began to run with no destination in mind. He just had to leave this foul place. He feared the bad wishes of the dead to come upon him and suck the life from him as sweet revenge. He deserved it. What kind of friend was he that couldn’t be counted on? What kind of friend would want such a friend who did nothing but fail all those who counted on him?

He thought he had made the right choice. He thought he had followed his own destiny. He thought he had followed his heart. Maybe he had. Maybe he hadn’t. But one thing was for sure. Heart had little bearing in a world where the wicked ruled and the kind were crushed. He should have come home. He should have been the son of Seto, not this foul failure, Red XIII. He was nothing.

And it scared him.

No one would care if he left the world forever. No one would take note that he was gone. Perhaps only the wind blowing through his mane would miss him. Only the sandy ground his light footfalls treaded upon would notice his departure. They didn’t care that he had failed them all. He couldn’t fail the stone. He couldn’t fail zephyr. They would always be there as his companions. That was not the truth of anything else.

Maybe he was destined to be alone. Let the demons come up behind him and kill him. He would find his grandfather when he died. It would be better to have love and compassion in death than solitude in life. But he would stay here on this world. If someone had something to say about that, they could say it. He wasn’t afraid of dying. He would have to go sometime. Any day would do. It didn’t matter.

He stopped running, his breath coming in short gasps. He sat back on his haunches, panting heavily, uncaring as to how far he’d run. The canyon had disappeared, the long grass of the prairie surrounded him. Cosmo Canyon was far behind him now, dwelling miles behind with his past. He would keep moving if only to forget.

Remembering was too painful.

Remembering was too hard.

Red XIII began to walk slowly, stalking through the wild grass, glowing in the dim moonlight. In the distance, the roar of a waterfall could be heard, breaking over the silence of the night.

The water flowed over the edge, crashing into the pool below, flowing over the rocks. The spray dampened everything, enough to fully saturate the ground surrounding the falls, enough to create living shapes from the mists, enough for ghosts.

Vincent Valentine sat at the edge of the crystal pool, his eyes wandering across the lake to where the waterfall hid the entrance to the cave they had found so many years ago. How he missed the days they had been together, longed to see her beautiful face shining through the darkness. They were little more than fleeting memories now. How he wished for something more.

"Why did you bring me back?" he asked quietly, snapping a twig before he threw it into the water. It floated away on an unseen current. "You had more happiness than I can ever have."

There was no response to his question, the whisper of the waterfall holding no more morbid answers to tell him. He was truly alone. Her soul had forgiven him and had left him here on this plane to find forgiveness for himself. He couldn’t forgive himself, especially not now. There was some part of him that felt even worse now, even more like he hadn’t done enough soon enough.

He had failed Tifa, too.

He had been given a duty to help protect the world, had taken on the task of bringing Cloud home to her. And what had happened? He had stolen Cloud’s very life for his own. He had brought her home a corpse.

Tifa would never forgive him for doing that to her. He had more obligations, more sins for which he had to repent. He couldn’t repent for these sins; he couldn’t sleep through them, muddle through them like a blind man. They were the sins that couldn’t be forgotten or repaid. These were the sins that he would live with forever.

They were somehow different from his obligations to Lucrecia. She had forgiven him for his transgressions. She had found a way to see it so that he was not responsible. She had somehow seen it as the fault of the Planet, as some wicked suicide scheme of the Planet. He wasn’t so sure about that. And Tifa was more sound than Lucrecia had been. She surely would see how blaming the Planet was worthless.

Just like blaming myself.

But there was nothing else he could do. Blaming himself seemed only natural, some kind of second nature to him. It was like Sephiroth’s fiery rage and Cloud’s guilt-stricken vengeance. All was for nothing. All was worthless.

His fingers skittered across the surface of the water, chilled by the cold. Perhaps it was destined to end like this with nothing left but a few empty yesterdays and bleak tomorrows filled with endless pain and little hope for the future. Maybe not. He wasn’t planning on living to see if the Planet would try to kill itself once more. He could only hope that death would come to claim him before it happened again.

He wished he could see her face.

He remembered it well. Perfect features surrounding by chocolate colored hair. Flawless, ageless, majestic. Full lips, smooth, creamy skin, beautiful. And her eyes. Beautiful green like twin emeralds sparkling in the sunlight. He could see her. Her face within the water where she had died, her eyes still glowing brightly with life.

The green swirled, and the reflection was gone.

Churning light, verdant with an eerie emerald, swirled endlessly, forever moving through the Planet like blood through veins. It was a constant, it would be there forever, the only thing to keep the men’s actions in check and prevent the total destruction of life. It had only one purpose; it was a drone though it had thoughts living in it.

One voice was the most prominent.

And she was crying.

Her love had been lost. Twisted by the Planet’s will and then lost. How cruel it was of the Planet to lock him away forever. How cruel it was of the Planet to use him and then destroy him. He was gone. Forever.

How cruel.

Her tears weren’t real though they were cried with fervor unmatched by any real sobs. She was lonely. How she longed to see him again. Or anyone she had once loved and lost. Like her first love had been lost. Only the Planet knew what had become of him on that day, five years ago, and the Planet wasn’t about to tell her. It had its own agenda. Heaven forbid it should ever reveal its intentions.

It was as bad as the men who sought to control it. Her tears were no longer of sorrow but of anger. "I hate you," she whispered, chanting the words over and over, louder and louder. But her screams were lost with the other screams and shouts of pain and hurt and loss as they always were.

"I wish you would die," she snapped. "DIE!!"

And she could shout until her anger was gone. She could yell until eternity. She could scream until the most insensitive man on the surface would hear her. The Planet didn’t cry because it had been leeched of its life by the stealing of Mako. It was dying because it was too hurt to live. All the Ancients’ pain was here, all their sorrow was here, the burial grounds of an extinct race.

And no one wanted to carry on in its endless life. No one had the strength to carry on with no passage of time. And now she would go on alone once more. The Promised Land was nothing more than broken promises.

The green churned on, hissing with her pain as though to ward it off. Surely, it didn’t want her hurt. It bubbled once before continuing on, flowing through the veins of the Planet once more.

The stream ebbed slowly, winding its way through the City of the Ancients. He sat by its edge, the black cloak discarded long ago. He had no need of it anymore. There was no Reunion; the Planet was just playing with his head again.

He sighed. If he had it his way there would be no more Reunions, no more crazy men dressed in silly outfits chasing their own tails for nothing, no more ways to destroy the world. The Planet would have no way to destroy itself, not as long as he walked its shores. He would see to its long, and prosperous, life.

Standing slowly, silently cursing his stiff leg, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sphere that caught the starlight for a brief second. He frowned at its flawless surface as it gleamed at him. He shook his head.

"Nygel, you stupid bastard," he muttered. "You’ve killed us all."

Reaching back, he threw the materia as far as he could into the green river of life. It hissed as it licked up the materia, disintegrating it into its tiniest parts, not to be crystallized again for a long time. The others were down there somewhere. The White, the Black, the Holy. They were all swirling within its depths, taken from Cloud by the Lifestream.

There they would remain, hopefully for all eternity.

He turned, flexing his left leg before he began to limp away, the black cloak left behind, the Black Materia destroyed. His job was complete. His promise was kept.

He swore he would never leave him, he swore that they would always be together, friends until they were finally killed. When one bled, the other would, too. And it had been so. He had followed him for what seemed like a lifetime, a shadow to always watch the play and never be a part of it. The only spectator for the puppets.

If only Cloud knew how long he had watched the play. He was sick of seeing the same thing happen over and over again. He was sick of how the same puppets were killed. He was sick of everything. And now he had finally turned the table, if only for a little while. It was more than he had ever done before this. It had been about time to do something.

And should Cloud find his Promised Land, then he would find it free of strings. No more materia, no more Mako, no more silly games with stupid scientists, no more. It was his gift to his friend. It was his obligation, his duty.

It had been promised.

It had been kept.

He limped out into the long grass, coming up behind a figure he had known for only a brief period of time but one he was likely never to forget.

Tifa felt a familiar presence behind her, the same feeling she always got when one of the black-cloaked men had come near to them. Only now, she had a feeling she knew who this mysterious stranger was.

She hugged herself against the cold bite of the night air, watching the clouds skirt along the horizon. Here they had come so far only to be back at the beginning once more, starting again with nothing but hurt. Cloud had never come for her at Nibelheim, had left her so disappointed, and yet had saved her at the same time. He had been there for her, and she had never known it. And now, even in death, he was still protecting her, to show up as just another one of those guards, to show up as the most successful failure.

She didn’t turn to this familiar stranger, her eyes forever on the clouds. "He kept his promise," she decreed softly.

He nodded absentmindedly. "So did I."

The dawn broke through the cloud cover, and sunlight streamed over them. It was going to be a beautiful day.

~~~

Acknowledgments

We would like to thank the Captain for being the first to put up this story. Thanks to Darren K. for the Gay Boat. And for all you people out there who have been supportive of Cloud Cover and Jenova Project; you have our gratitude.

© 1998 by Junj.

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