Hero of the Day

***

 “Don’t want your hate, but the fist I make for you still no fear…
…No, not on me, so please excuse me while I tend to how I feel.”

 --Metallica, “Hero of the Day”

 ***

 Part VI

 ***

Okay, so she was young.  Big whup.  She’d been young her entire life; she’d learned to bypass it, and use it to her advantage.  And, okay, so she was naïve.  That left with age, right?  After all, Cid was twice her age, and he seemed wise—or, about as wise as a stubborn goat like him could get.  And, okay, so what if she was linked to a terrorist organization…

Holy shit.  She was linked to a terrorist organization.

Her face fell.  That was *so* not good for her rep. Not to mention her pride and honor. Among other things.

For a moment, as she watched Barret led away deeper into the center of the town, she was furious. How could they have left all that out? How could they have not told her that they’d killed innocent people before?

Yuffie rolled her eyes theatrically. Right, like walking up and saying, “Hey, I blew up a building, and a pillar, killing thousands for my own benefit,” would have been a real great icebreaker.

Still, she mused, frowning, she never even had a *clue*. For the first time, she noticed two or three of the straggling hecklers glaring accusatorily at her, their hate filled eyes scorching her inwardly. In response, she made a silly face at them, promptly scaring them off. “Weirdo town…” the shinobi muttered, trudging off into the shadows.

She used her years of knowledge in martial arts and diminutive stature to disappear into the throng of people, her mind whirling.  She’d first heard about the attacks in the bar in Costa Del Sol—she couldn’t quite remember the name, given the fact that she wound up completely hammered during every trip to it—and in her drunken stupor believed they deserved everything they got.  So, it meant nothing to her that they were killers.  In fact, had she met them then, the thief would have most likely cheered them on, shaking their hands gleefully.

Times had changed, though, and so had she.

The waif of a girl forced her way through the crowd, repressing a convulsive shudder as she reminisced upon her cold-heartedness.  By spending time with Cloud and the others, she quickly learned that such differences meant nothing.  Especially when there was a giant meteor hurtling towards them.  Ironic, that those who taught her such morals were ones that thoughtlessly took life for…what reason?

Impulsively, the teenager changed direction, plodding through a dirtied alley towards the direction of Barret, not noticing as the refugees who lined the walls scurried away from her like she carried the plague.  She should have seen it coming a mile away.  After all, the news reports said that they were AVALANCHE, and even Cloud himself told her who they were.  The fact that she never put two and two together made her want to vomit.  But then, so did the idea of her trusting her life with them.  And *then*, so did the idea of turning on them so quickly.  Not defending your friends in their time of need was dishonorable, and even though she rarely paid attention to the old man as he droned on, a few of his lessons stayed with her, despite her constant attempts to rid herself of his influence.

She snorted.  How melodramatic of her.

Squeezing in between the town’s protective barricade and the massive foundation of the pavilion, she came to a halt.  The buildings sprawled across a large upraised level of granite, the shadows of the shops that loomed several feet above her falling into the small crevice, swallowing everything in complete darkness.  While she loved the dark, at this particular instant, with the rough town wall on one side of her, and the granite slab on the other, Yuffie began to feel distinctly claustrophobic.  The small thief fought down the urge to turn tail and run.

Mindful of the fact that she was most likely being watched by that Karter, she crouched low to the ground, stealthily closing the small distance between her and the rough stone side.  Noting that the wall was dotted with small barred windows, she took another step forward, cobwebs blanketing her face as she neared.  She heatedly swore to herself as she ripped them off with her one hand, the thin threads stubbornly stuck to her eyelids.

“*Told* ya you spent too much damn time wit Cid.”

“What the—” she started, whirling around.  In doing so, her face got another helping of the spider’s web, only this time, the spider decided to come along for the ride.  Never one for the eight-legged buggers, the ninja shrieked, frantically batting at her face, all the while hopping around into rotted crates and broken potion bottles.

“Shh!  Quiet, kid!  Ya attractin’ attention!” the disembodied voice whispered harshly, as she ran about.

“GetitoffgetitoffGETITOFF!” Yuffie wailed, whipping her head around at a dizzying speed.

“Kid, shut da fu—“

Finally, after shamelessly proclaiming her helplessness, she smacked the spider free, and hastily backed away.  “I *HATE* SPI—“

Before she could finish her tirade, a massive hand clamped down over her mouth, forcefully pushing her into the granite, the coarse stone biting into her exposed shoulder.  “Kid,” he growled, “you must’ve made one *hell* of a crappy ninja, ‘cause you can’t stay quiet worth *shit*.”

Her reply was muffled by Barret’s hand.  Rolling her eyes, she smacked his hand lightly, indicating that he should let go.  On cue, his muscled arm snaked its way back through the bars, the light tapping on the other side telling her she should ‘get to the point’.  Quickly, the she repeated herself.  “Didn’t you know?  I’m the ass-kicking type of ninja, not the silent one.”

“Picked a helluva time ta start *bein’* one,” Barret snapped.

Her eyes went wide, and she shrugged.  “Come on, what was I *supposed* to do?”

“How ‘bout not backstabbin’ me?” he retorted angrily.

Yuffie shook her head wearily, forcing down the scowl that wanted to rise on her face.  “Look, I didn’t know what was going on, okay?  One second, you’re the guy that helped me save the world—“  She ignored a disgusted snort from the makeshift cell, “—and the next, you’re some terrorist who blew up a reactor.”

“I ain’t gonna deny what I did,” the rebel stated solemnly.  “Those reactors were suckin’ da life outta the planet.  You *know* that, kid.”

“So, what, you automatically expected me to just jump up and say, ‘Yeah, I helped blow up a bunch of people’?” she huffed, losing the battle on the scowl.  Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and she stabbed her finger into empty air.  “And since we’re on the subject of being *silent*,” the girl spat accusatorily, “what’s up with the whole ‘terrorist’ thing, anyway?  Why the hell didn’t you guys tell me any of this?”

“We thought ya *knew*,” he replied defensively.  “And, ‘sides, it don’t matter what we did anyway.   S’all inna past.”

“Murder’s *never* all in the past,” the ninja snapped, her eyes ablaze.

“An’ who the hell are *you* ta be talkin’ ‘bout *my* shit in the closet, huh?” Barret snarled.  “*You* were da one who decided ta ditch *us* for yer own bony ass.  So, if you come lookin’ for answers, too goddamn bad, ‘cause I ain’t givin’ ya *shit*.”

“Look, Barret,” Yuffie sighed, changing tactics.  She could always grill it out of him later.  “I didn’t ditch you or Red, okay?  I was only doing it so—“

“Go away, brat,” he snapped harshly.  “I don’t talk ta traitors.”  She heard heavy footsteps waft from the small barred window.

She thought about sticking around, anyway, and telling him off, just because she felt like it.  After several moments, though, she decided against it, and stalked off.  How could they have thought she’d known?  The first time she’d met them was while they were wandering the forests outside of Junon for potions and food.  She could still remember the first time she saw Barret, that big moron, cussing up a storm because he hated trees, and the bugs that came with them.  And he tried to say *she* made a lot of noise.  At least she didn’t swear as much as he did—

Yuffie froze, her back ramrod straight, her almond eyes focused straight ahead.  She *knew* she just heard something.  And it sounded too big to be a rat.Well, she corrected   herself, it was too big to be a *rodent*, at least.  Rats came in all sizes.

Cautiously, she relaxed her stance slightly, her thin lips curling into an annoyed frown.  “Whoever you are, you can come out now,” she called flatly, tapping her tennis shoe on the floor impatiently.

Seconds passed before a shadow hesitantly detached from the mouth of the alley, taking the shape of a small, weary man.  Not being able to pin his face at first, her ebony eyes traveled up and down his barely lit form.  He was taller than her, perhaps Cloud’s height, with a long mane of thick brown hair that was tied back by some sort of string.  What wasn’t held back fell out in small clumps, long brown streaks framing his pale, angular face.  His clothes were in poor condition, his long padded jacket covered in dust and torn at the shoulder.  The thick green shirt and mahogany colored slacks faired no better.  The only thing about the ensemble that seemed relatively intact was his dirtied suede work boots.  He noticed her scrutinizing gaze, and cleared his throat quietly, his eyes falling to the ground momentarily.  “Hello,” he said, awkwardly.

While the raven-haired shinobi couldn’t pinpoint his appearance, she could definitely pinpoint his soft, melodic voice.  “Cas,” she greeted coldly, glaring at him.  If she were able to, she would have crossed her arms.  For the fourteenth time, she cursed her failure to find any sort of curative materia to solve that problem.  Some damn thief she was.  Hm, maybe she *was* starting to act like Cid… “Why were you spying on me?”

“I wasn’t ‘spying’ on you,” he shot back, his voice defensive.  “At least, not intentionally, at first.  With the racket you made, you could have easily wakened the dead.”

The petite ninja simply frowned, not caring to reply to his comment.

Casting a shaky glance over his sloping shoulder, he strode forward until he was an arm’s length away from her.  “So, I take it that you *are* a part of AVALANCHE,” Cas stated, his voice firm.

“No,” she instantly declared, pausing to gather her thoughts.  “Well…at least…not the one that psycho Karter was babbling about.”  She sighed, annoyed that she could never seem to ever give anyone a straight answer when it truly counted.  “I mean…when I went with them originally, it was just so I could steal their materia later, but…”

“They forced you to stay,” he offered.

Her ebony eyes shot up to his, shocked.  “No!”  She shrugged half-heartedly.  “In fact, there were a couple times that they tried to kick me out,” Yuffie answered honestly, a lopsided grin on her face.  “What I was going to say was that they sort of…grew on me.  They’re good people.  Really.”  The teenager fell silent, searching her companion’s face for any sympathy, and wasn’t surprised when she found none.  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

His stoic mask fell seconds after the words left her lips, and his cold green eyes flared with the intensity of the sun.  “I have no reason to.  Barret himself said that he blew up the Sector One and Sector Five reactors.  How many innocent people did he kill by doing that?”

“How many people did Shinra kill a day to keep those things going?” she retorted, stunned by the passion of her own voice.

“Well, if you have any evidence to refute it, I’m listening,” Cas spoke matter-of-factly, crossing his arms, the thick leather fabric of his coat hanging loosely from his wrists.

Yuffie held back the urge to just collapse in front of him.  One minute, she was grilling Barret, and the next she was defending him.  It was just too weird.  “Look, I know how bad it seems.  I’m pretty pissed about it, myself.  But, I know him, and I know them.  If he did something, he did it for a good reason.  And destroying a pillar doesn’t sound like him.”

“And calling Meteor?” the spindly man prompted.

She harrumphed, shaking her head.  “Are you *cracked*?  No!”

Cas frowned, stress lines forming on his pale skin.  “How do you know?”

“Because I was *there*,” Yuffie answered definitely, jabbing her thumb in her chest.  “It wasn’t us.  Plus, even if it *was*, how would we be able to?  We were all in prison in Junon when Meteor was called.”

For the first time since he arrived, his hard glare softened, his taut face muscles falling in shock.  “Are you…” Cas murmured, his eyes darting about wildly.  “Wait, you’re *right*.  I remember President Shinra stating that he was going to televise the public execution…!”  His emerald eyes went wide, his posture shifting to compensate for the new knowledge that was obviously throwing him off kilter.  “But how…?  Why would Shinra lie to us?”

“Because,” Yuffie began, “they couldn’t have said that their prize General who had been dead for five years went off the deep end and called Meteor.  Wouldn’t exactly be good for their rep.”

“You’re joking, right?” the taller man snorted, his face contorted in disbelief.  She shook her head silently.  “Are you trying to tell me that General Sephiroth was the one that called Meteor?”  The ninja nodded gravely, her hair flopping into her face as she did so.  “That sounds…insane.  It’s too crazy to be true.”

“It’s too crazy to be a lie,” she countered flatly, her expression dull.  “And deep down, you know that.”

“No, I don’t,” Cas huffed, his brows furrowed in annoyance.  “Tell me, even if Sephiroth *did* somehow manage to survive, and remain hidden for five years, why would he call Meteor?”

“You’d have to ask *him*,” she retorted, non-plussed.  “The guy was nuts; crazy, round the bend, three Prozacs short of a bottle, wacko!  He thought he was an Ancient, and that some giant squid thing was his mother!  I mean, come on!”

Cas’ eyes narrowed, glowering at her petite form skeptically.  “…You’re serious, aren’t you?” he answered, slowly.

“Believe me,” she began, her brows raised in a strangely youthful expression, “I’d never tell this unless I had to.  I’d be put in the happy shack for life.  And I hate straight jackets.”

The spindly man continued to stare at her, more stray strands of brown hair cascading over his narrowed green eyes.  She noted his posture was that of a coiled spring; he was ready to bolt off and give her away at any given moment, and the only thing he needed was an excuse.  Silently, she begged him not to, because if he did, her plan would go down the tubes.  She had to save Red and Barret, if for nothing else than to explain what exactly what happened at the Sector Seven pillar.  Quietly, Cas spoke, “Are you willing to tell the others this?”

Blinking, she snapped back to reality.  Pausing for a moment, Yuffie dropped her gaze to the ground, running the two choices through her mind.  Yesterday, if she had been given these choices, she would have instantly proclaimed his innocence, the consequences be damned.  Now, though, she found herself a bit more ambivalent if that action would be the smartest one.  Her sharp ninja eyes slowly rose to meet his, hoping to find some clue of what to do from his facial expression.  “What do you think?” she asked softly, careful to keep the trademark sardonic attitude out of her voice.

The weary man opened his mouth to speak, but remained silent, his posture thoughtful.  After several seconds, he sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping in resignation.  “I don’t know, to tell you the truth.  Even if you *did* tell the others, I doubt they would listen to you.  Given the fact that you lied to them, they wouldn’t believe a word you said.”  He shrugged half-heartedly, his long ponytail swishing slightly with the effort.  “And, besides, your story doesn’t sound exactly…”

“Sane?” she supplied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I was going to use truthful, actually,” he answered, blinking, “but I suppose sane would work, too.”

The petite shinobi gaped at him, her raven eyes wide with disbelief.  “Why are you helping me?”

Again, Cas’ eyes hardened, a dark cloud settling over him.  “I lost friends in the Sector Seven attack.  I want the person who made such a hateful assault to be brought to justice.  But, I don’t want anyone to be convicted wrongly of the crime.  It would solve nothing in the end.”

She fell silent.  His focus, like the others on the Highwind only a day or so prior, was focused inward, and Yuffie didn’t want to interrupt him.

Finally, at length, he pulled out of his cocoon of thought, and rejoined her in the alley.  “I doubt this question will make any difference, but if you are a part of AVALANCHE, why did you lie?”

She pursed her lips, sucking in a deep breath.  “At first, it was only a reaction to what was being told.  Out of instinct, I lied, to protect myself.”  He frowned in disapproval, slight worry lines forming where they shouldn’t have at his age.  “But, since I’m in this position, I figured that I might as well make the best of it, and use this time free to contact the others and give them the heads up of the situation.”  Yuffie shrugged, hoping she didn’t look like a moron in doing so.  “Stupid, I know, but there’s no point in me beating myself up for it now.  The only thing I can do is make the best of it.”

Cas slowly nodded in agreement, before he whipped his head around nervously, his green eyes darting about the nearby square.  “I’d better go,” he murmured.  Turning back around, he asked, “Are you going to tell the townspeople this?”

Resolutely, the ebon-haired teenager shook her head.  “Why waste time telling them what we both know they won’t believe?  Plus, it puts me in danger.”  A cocky smile formed on her thin lips, a resilient glow shining in her dark eyes.  “Believe me, by the time that ‘trial’ thing happens tomorrow morning, the only thing you’ll have to do is sit and watch the fireworks.”  She waggled her eyebrows dramatically, emphasizing her point.

Silently, he acknowledged her comment, swiftly moving off into the seemingly deserted square.  The grin still adorning her face, the thin shinobi made her way carefully out of the small alley, her hawk eyes searching for any place that she could sleep for the night.  She pivoted on her heel, preparing to recheck what she had missed, when her eyes caught the retreating figure of someone who, moments ago, was only standing feet from her and Cas—

Her eyes widened, the insinuation dawning on her.  The figure dared to take a glimpse over his broad shoulder, his cold blue eyes focusing on her for but moment.  Her face paled.

“Karter,” she gasped.

 ---

Goddammit, he hated being selfless.

Cid swore at himself.  Why the hell did he open his big mouth and volunteer to carry Spike?  He halfheartedly wished that he had just ditched the ex-SOLDIER back at the crash site and let him fend for himself.  But *no*, he had to appease Tifa, who had pulled out all the stops by getting all teary-eyed around him.  He swore again; he hated to see people cry, and especially women.  Damn her.

He scrounged in the remains of his jacket, praying to some higher being that one of his cigarettes could have happened to survive the crash.  He swore yet again when his hand came up empty.  He needed a damn cigarette, or else he was going to go insane.  His withdrawal headache, coupled with the persistent throbbing of his wound, was putting a great deal of strain on his already short—and thinning—patience.

Feeling like he was about to pass out at any moment didn’t exactly help matters, either.

 “Is Cloud awake yet?” Tifa asked quietly, casting a worried glance over her shoulder.

“Nah,” Cid huffed in return, stopping and shifting the unconscious mercenary on his shoulder before continuing.  “Believe me, Teef, the sec he’s awake, you’ll know, ‘cause I’m droppin’ his scrawny ass.  He’s really damn heavy.”

She slowed her pace, coming up beside him, her thin lips curling up into a wry grin.  “Is that so?”

“Well, yeah,” he retorted, swallowing the thread of vulgar words that threatened to pour out as Cloud’s limp arm smacked into his tender and swollen side.  “’Sides, all of his goddamn armor ain’t helpin’ much, either—“

As if on cue, the ex-SOLDIER started to rouse from his slumber, his previously limp muscles tensing and going taut.  The first muscle that seemed to do so, much to the weary pilot’s chagrin, was his right arm, which slammed into his ribs with an impressive amount of force for a half-dead guy.  On reflex, he swore like a sailor, quite literally grabbing the dazed and confused blond by the arms and hurling him headlong into the ground, seconds later collapsing, his energy spent.

Tifa blinked, her mind failing to exactly register what took place mere inches from her.  She blinked again, her eyes going wide, and she exclaimed in shock, diving into the lush strands of grass to nurse Cloud back into consciousness.

The pilot frowned, and contemplated throwing his arms up in exasperation, realizing seconds later that he was too damn tired.

Lethargically, Cloud opened his bright blue eyes, his gaze resting on Tifa, whom had so kindly decided to place his head on her lap.  Cid wanted to puke.  “Mornin’, Spike,” he jibed, his rough voice dulled by fatigue.  “Sleep well?”  The lanky blond merely blinked, clearly still lost somewhere in La-La Land.  The gruff pilot harrumphed, regretting it seconds later.  “Ya damn well better have,” he muttered heatedly, “I carried ya the whole damn way.”

 Cloud’s eyes lazily rolled from the left to the right, closing seconds later.  “…Comfy pillow…”

Cid didn’t resist the disgusted snort that escaped his lips; opting to use what strength he had left to pull his bruised and exhausted legs out from underneath his equally sore rump.  After shifting and swearing, he finally settled in a semi-lying position; propping himself up on his elbows, his legs crossed in front of him in faux non-chalance.  Giving into his overwhelming tiredness, his body sagged into the ground, his smoky eyes closing as he sighed deeply.

Tifa finally looked up from the man currently residing on her thighs, her dark chocolate gaze washing over his beaten form.  “You don’t look so good, Cid,” she stated, her feathery voice weighted down by concern.

“Gee, ya think so?” he snapped quickly, hoping his standoffish attitude would dissuade her, but his voice lacked the searing heat of a true Cid Highwind-worthy retort.  He couldn’t really stay angry with Tifa for that long, anyway.  She was as sweet as a button.  When he first met her, after admiring her more physical qualities like all men before him, he thought that she couldn’t hurt a fly.  Which is why it surprised the hell out of him that she was a martial artist, and moreover, one trained by Zangan.  From that moment on, he made a point to not to get on her bad side; for fear that he’d end up as a pretzel.

Cloud lived a dangerous life, snuggling up to Tifa like he did.  But, then, he always *did* think Spike was a few cans short of a six-pack.

He blinked, snapping back to reality.  “Ya may be right, Teef,” he mumbled, furrowing his brows.  The blond pilot gingerly brought his hand to his side, brushing away the remnants of his coat to get a clear view of just how bad the damage was.  His eyes washed over the sopping wet scarf, noting with a frown that his entire left side was now smeared with sticky, warm blood.

And it was only going to get worse.

Tifa winced, her dark eyes narrowing in pain and sympathy for him.  “That looks really bad,” she stated, unable to keep the revulsion out of her voice.

He harrumphed darkly, which quickly morphed into a drawn out hack.  “It started out bad,” he replied matter-of-factly, his voice strained, scratching painfully at the back of his throat.  For the lack of anything better to do, his smoky blue eyes zeroed in on the crimson-soaked cloth.  He watched with a sort of morbid curiosity as the dark ruby continually overtook the pale off-white, strand by tiny strand.  Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he continued to gaze at his wound, transfixed.  So this is what dying was like…

“Cid?”

The pilot jumped minutely, the sharp pain causing him to refocus on reality.  While he seemed simply annoyed by her interruption, inside he was becoming increasingly apprehensive.  What the hell just happened?  He couldn’t start zoning out; he had too much to do.  And the last thing he needed was more blood on his hands.  “Yeah, what is it?” he snapped, his jaw muscles rolling in sync with the continually more frequent spasms of pain.

The brunette merely stared at the long streaks of wet crimson that marked the side of his shirt and his soiled skin, her face still holding that look of abject disgust about it.  He couldn’t say he blamed her.  “I think it just went to worse,” she declared, finally tearing her eyes away from his wound, staring down at the semi-coherent Cloud.  “And, I don’t want to think of what comes after it,” she muttered quietly.

Cid snorted again, fighting back the grunt of pain that the slight movement brought with it.  “Ain’t nothin’ good, that’s for damn sure.”  Refusing to look at the bleeding gash on his side again, he brought his gaze to the blanket of darkness around him.  Even with his Shinra training, it was impossible to actually tell where they were.  Since they’d set out, the only distinguishing mark he’d managed to find was that the three of them was now trudging calf-deep in grass.

If it weren’t for the fact that he was currently bleeding to death, he would have probably enjoyed the scenery.

Sighing tiredly, he closed his eyes for a second.

The next thing he knew he was lying on the ground, with Tifa’s face hovering above him, concern etched on her pale features.  The pilot blinked blearily, his chiseled lip twitching.  Her hair was also tickling his face.  “Cid?” she asked quietly, her voice hopeful.  “Cid, can you hear me?”

 “I ain’t deaf,” he grunted, painfully rising to a sitting position.  “How long was I out?”

She shrugged uncertainly, frowning.  “Five, ten minutes, maybe.”  Her bruised shoulders rose and fell in a resigned sigh.  “Cid, you can’t keep going like this for much longer.”

The pilot scowled deeply, partly from the pain, and partly from her nagging.  He was stubborn, and often refused help from others, but it had just become all too clear to him that he was going from worse to disastrous.  If he didn’t get medical attention soon, he was wasn’t going to be able to make to Kalm at all.  “I know that,” he hissed lowly, fighting back a wave of nausea.  “I ain’t stupid, either.”

Her eyes dimmed momentarily, falling silent.  “We shouldn’t worry, though,” she offered, her voice somewhat hopeful.  “Yuffie said she’d backtrack and give us whatever supplies we need.”

The blond held back the swell of hatred for the petite ninja.  He probably shouldn’t have trusted her, especially not with his life.  But, what choice did he have?  “Damn well better,” he grumbled, more to himself than to his companion feet away from him.  “I ain’t got no other choice, now.”

Tifa blinked, furrowing her thin brows in determination.  Sucking in a deep breath, she sat up straighter, crossing her sliced arms across her torn and dirtied tank top.  “I could go to Kalm, you know.  It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

“Nah,” he huffed immediately, shaking his head.  “Ain’t worth it.  Plus, what if Spike suddenly decided to wake his scrawny ass up and follow ya?  I’d probably have to listen to his crap about how he ‘couldn’t believe I let her go by herself,’ or whatever bullshit he usually spouts when he’s worried ‘bout ya.”

Tifa’s arms fell from her chest, startled.  “He’d really say that?”

Cid nodded slowly, watching with some amount of amusement as her pale cheeks turned a healthy beet red from embarrassment.  “Oh yeah,” he replied, smirking, “for all his crossed wires, Spike here can’t stand to watch ya do stuff on your own that could get ya killed.”  He paused for a moment, his smoky eyes falling to semi-conscious leader of their troupe.  “But, to defend the ol’ mother hen, I can’t blame him.”

Her thin eyebrow rose in curiosity, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief.  “Oh?  And is that because you men think I’m not *capable* of doing anything on my own?”

He snorted at the thought, smacking his lips for a moment as if he had a cigarette in his mouth.  Damn, he needed one.  “If I’da thought that, I would’ve straight out *told* ya, and you know that.”  She grudgingly nodded in agreement.  For the first time in what felt like ages, he smirked deviously.  “’Sides, ya could whoop my ass in no time flat.  Ain’t no way I’d wanna get on yer bad side by sayin’ yes.”

Tifa chuckled heartily, the sound echoing in the silence of the plains.  Cid had to admit, when watching her youthful face light up in excitement, or noticing her concern for everyone around her, Cloud had picked a damn good woman.  God, he felt old.  Now, if either of them could just *act* on that…

For the second time tonight, it seemed as if Cloud had read his thoughts.  Sluggishly, the lanky mercenary rolled onto his side, his bright azure eyes half-closed and glazed over.  He looked like hell.  Cid wondered if he looked quite as bad.  “Mornin’ Spike,” he echoed dryly.  “Have a nice n—“

Almost too quick for his eyes to follow, the ex-SOLDIER snapped awake, his eyes wide and alert, and rolled to his knees.  “…You hear that?” he ground out, his voice thick with fatigue.

He furrowed his brows, straining his ears to listen to the silent spring evening.  “Hear wh—“

His mouth snapped shut, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.  The soft sound of crunching grass wafted through the cool winds.  And, from the sounds of it, whoever or whatever was responsible for it was a *lot* bigger than Yuffie.

A part of Cid was jealous of the spikey-haired soldier; he just woke up from a half-dead stupor, and he was *still* more alert than he was.  He shoved the thought out of his head as he slowly made his way to his feet, his blood-caked glove clumsily grasping the metal shaft of his hand-made spear, having lost the Venus Gospel—and every other weapon he owned—in the mountain of metal debris.

Under normal circumstances, the monsters in this area posed no threat to him, or anyone else on their team, having grown too strong and fast for the dog-like creatures to even lay a scratch on them before they were beheaded.  These circumstances, however, were far from normal.  His dark blue eyes shot over to Tifa for an instant, gauging her health condition.  She could probably hold her own—not to mention theirs—but he wasn’t about to let her go into the fight alone.

Forcing the exhaustion from his body by sheer will alone, the gruff pilot stood in a defensive stance, his smoky eyes darting from point to point, scanning the darkness intently for the cause of the quiet sound.  Whatever it was must have become aware that others were around, because the only noise Cid heard was the rapid thumping of his heart in his chest.

He caught the remnants of a lithe shadow dashing to his left, before it melted back into the suffocating blackness that seemed to clutch to his very clothing.  Suppressing the urge to swear, he desperately tried to zero in on its location again, using every bit of military and instinctual knowledge at his disposal.

And he was getting nowhere fast.

He glanced over to Cloud, his shoulder hunched forward slightly in weariness as he stood with his fists in the air.  The blond took a moment to wonder if he was as good in hand-to-hand combat as he was with his sword.  He doubted it.

Cid noted his posture and what he could see of his facial expression, figuring that Spike hadn’t caught sight of their stalker.  He peeked at the buxom martial artist standing shoulder to shoulder with Cloud, noticing that her deep brown eyes were also scanning the area around them wildly, almost desperately.

“There!” Tifa stated, whirling around.  “I just saw it!”

Cloud repeated the gesture, although he didn’t do it nearly as gracefully.  “Where?  I don’t see it.”

Cid grimaced, casting a quick look over his shoulder, seeing only oppressive darkness.  He was starting to feel very claustrophobic for some reason.  Barely a second had passed before he spotted something moving in the night, before it whispered back into the shadows.  “Damn, this thing’s faster than hell,” he muttered, annoyed at his own sluggishness, and at the shadow’s persistence to remind him of it.

It was then that he came to a startling conclusion, blinking in surprise.  “Ain’t no monster ‘round here’s this goddamn fast,” he declared flatly.  “*Or* this quiet.”

He didn’t have to see the lanky blond to know he was frowning in confusion.  “If it’s not a monster, then what is it?” he hissed quietly, his impatience evident.

The pilot’s jaw tightened in determination, ready for a fight, and his injuries be damned.  “Ain’t nothin’ good,” he growled, a fire sparking in his smoky blue eyes, “and that’s for *damn* sure.”

Go on to Part VII