Ghost Ship

by Ms. Zeal

ONE SHOT. Cloud and Vincent run afoul of the ghost ship that haunts the corridor to the underwater reactor. Set during the mission to retrieve the Huge Materia.

Chapter 1

Two men and a large feline walked swiftly down the dingy gray hallways of the ShinRa military base. The leader was blond, his hair cut short and falling naturally into messy spikes. The soft glow emitting from his deep blue eyes marked him as one infused with mako. He wore a faded dark blue SOLDIER uniform and carried an enormous sword in his hand. It was between five and six feet long from tip to handle and the blade was at least a foot wide, but Cloud Strife carried it with ease.

His companion was several inches taller, with ebony locks cascading down his back. The dark haired man was dressed in black, a tattered red cloak hanging off his shoulders and swishing softly behind him as he walked. His left hand was encased in a golden, clawed gauntlet, and his right hand never strayed far from the gun on his hip. Crimson eyes stared out of pale face, silently taking in everything around him as he memorized the layout of the base. One never knew when such knowledge might come in handy and, as an ex-Turk, Vincent Valentine liked to be prepared for any situation.

Bringing up the rear was a large feline covered in deep red fur. A mane of darker hair flowed down his neck, with a few feathers weaved into the strands. His long tail was tipped with a bright yellow flame and each leg sported a silver cuff with symbols and patterns engraved in the metal. The number 'XIII' had been branded on his left shoulder, clearly visible amid the older scars that marred his upper legs. Padding behind the humans on silent paws, Red XIII wrinkled his nose at the old, musty scents lingering in the stale air.

The three of them were heading towards the underwater reactor, trying to liberate the Huge Materia before ShinRa moved it somewhere else. The blond mercenary moved quickly, his companions matching his pace as they hurried through the base. They had already encountered a number of enemy soldiers along the way and they were all keeping an eye out for more. The hallway ended in a door and Cloud opened it, his body tense in anticipation of an ambush. Nothing could have prepared him for what lay beyond.

Cloud stopped short, staring in astonishment at the domed tunnel that ran along the ocean floor. It was made almost entirely out of reinforced glass, allowing a superb view of the marine life swimming just on the other side of the barrier. Several schools of fish darted in and out of the seaweed swaying gently in the water, swimming loosely in a sort of formation as they searched for something to eat. A curious dolphin swam over to them and away again a couple times, as if inviting them to come and play. Brightly colored coral lined the edges of the tunnel, growing up over the glass in some places. It was such a jarring change from the gray metal hallways that made up the rest of the base that Cloud had to step back and make sure that the plain, ordinary, standard military hallway did indeed lead to this picturesque corridor.

"Amazing," Red XIII breathed, stepping up next to the blond. "To think that something like this would be down here... Incredible..."

"Cloud," Vincent prompted gently after a moment, although his eyes were also drinking in the sight.

"Right. We've got a job to do," Cloud agreed, nodding. "We can look at the scenery later. Lets go," he said, leading the way. Despite his words, they continued on at a much more leisurely pace compared to the frenzied dash they had made through most of the military base.

The corridor itself was long and straight with a sharp curve at the far end. Even though they stepped softly, their boots echoed loudly in the silence. Although the amount of noise they were making had Cloud on edge (they hadn't snuck in exactly, but they were at least trying to keep from drawing attention to themselves), it also meant that no one would be able to sneak up on them without being heard.

As soon as the thought had crossed Cloud's mind, there was a startled grunt from Vincent as he was thrown into the glass wall.

Cloud sighed mentally, rolling eyes as he quickly turned to face the enemy. He blinked, lowering his sword slightly in stunned surprise. An entire wooden ship floating silently in the domed corridor, with a skeletal figurehead brandishing an overly large oar on the front of it, was not what he had been expecting. The sails were ripped and torn, swaying gently in the non-existent breeze. The ship itself looked old and worn, and entirely un-seaworthy with a few holes and one missing plank visible along its belly. Still, it looked pretty solid as it floated there, defying all laws of gravity.

Shaking off his surprise, Cloud hefted his sword and leapt to attack, ducking under its swinging oar as he aimed for the keel. His sword met with no resistance, the wooden planks merely shimmering slightly as the giant blade passed through them. He caught a glimpse of the dark interior before the boards reformed, looking as solid as they had a moment ago. Sensing movement from above, he reflexively rolled to the side, narrowly missing the oar as it smacked loudly against the ground where he had just been.

Gunfire rang out, the echo deafening in the enclosed area. Bullets were about as effective as the sword had been, several small hazy holes appearing in the exterior of the ship before closing up again. Ice crystals formed rapidly inside the skeleton's ribcage, shooting out in all directions before bursting apart as Red XIII finished casting the spell. The entire ship seemed to stagger slightly to the side before righting itself once more.

"It seems magic is the only thing that will affect it," Cloud stated as his teammates regrouped.

"Ice doesn't work that well, though," Red XIII added, his hackles raised as he watched the ship warily.

"Does anyone have a fire materia?" Vincent asked.

Cloud and Red XIII both shook their heads. "I only have a gravity. I don't think it'll be that effective, considering the thing is floating," the blond said.

"Perhaps an earth spell might work," he gunman mused, running his thumb over one of the materia inserted in handle of his gun.

Further planning was cut off as the ship charged at them, scattering the group. Vincent leapt to the side, raising his gun as the materia orb began to shine brightly. Large stone slabs shot up from the ground and impaled the belly of the ship. However, the planks merely shimmered, disappearing where the rocks would have torn them apart. The skeleton didn't even pause, swinging its oar low and catching Vincent on the end of it.

The ex-Turk was hefted high in the air, unable to do more than cling desperately to the flat paddle. The skeleton swung the oar above its head before a quick jerk sent Vincent sailing off the end and through the deck of the ship. He landed heavily on the ground, red swirls of energy encompassing his form as his body began to change. When the light faded, what looked like a small, wingless dragon stood in his place. He stood on his hind legs, hands and feet both tipped with wicked claws. His long, whip-like tail thrashed back and forth behind him in agitation as he got his bearings. His pelt was dark purple in color and two curved horns arched out away from his forehead. He threw back his head and roared, leaping away from the ship and looking around almost frantically.

Cloud and Red XIII both watched with some alarm as the galian beast (as Vincent had christened his berserk form) moved away from the battle, gnashing it's sharp teeth, growling and continually looking around in an uncharacteristic show of confusion.

Apparently deciding purple demon was out of the fight, the ship focused on the remaining fighters. Cloud darted forward as if to attack before quickly leaping back out of range of the oar, trying to keep the ship's attention focused on him to give Red XIII the time he needed to cast ice spells. The skeleton brought its oar down hard, hitting the blond's left shoulder when he couldn't get out of the way fast enough. Cloud reacted without thinking, jumping forward to counter attack and hitting the skeleton with his sword. Surprisingly enough, the ship jerked back, an unearthly wail issuing from the skull's open mouth as one of its ribs broke off and fell to the ground.

"Physical attacks have to be focused on the figurehead!" Cloud called, dancing away from the swinging oar once more. The skeleton looked mad now. Two blue orbs were glowing in the empty eye sockets and it opened its mouth, revealing a large blue ball of flame forming there. The mercenary braced himself for the attack, but the skull turned and shot the fireball at Red XIII instead. The feline yelped in pain and surprise, the materia orb on his bracer losing its glow as he lost his concentration. Dropping to the ground, he rolled around fervently on the floor, trying to put out the remaining flames in his fur. Thus preoccupied, he didn't see the oar swinging toward him.

Cloud darted in front of his injured companion, taking the hit in his stead. The oar caught him in the middle and he found himself raised high in the air as Vincent had been. He caught a glimpse of galian beast, standing some distance away as it kept turning this way and that, as if it still couldn't decide what to do. The blond briefly wondered what it would take to confuse Vincent's berserk form, before he was thrown through the air and disappeared beneath the ship's deck.

. . .

Cloud opened his eyes, noting he was lying on the floor with no clear recollection of how he gotten there. He carefully pushed himself to his feet, studying his surroundings as he did so. The room was dark and in a state of disrepair. An old table was off to one side, one chair sitting next to it and the other one in pieces on the floor. Several hammocks were hanging on the opposite wall, gaping holes torn in the fabric and one lying on the ground, having been ripped off the wall completely. A large portion of the door was missing and it creaked loudly as it swung back and forth as the entire room rocked, like a ship at sea. Everything seemed a bit hazy, as if he couldn't quite get his eyes to focus properly.

"This is like something out of a b-grade horror film," he muttered, picking his sword up from where he had apparently dropped it. Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned, eyebrows rising.

He had missed the two skeletons lying in the hammocks, bony fingers still clutching their weapons. Now, they were climbing out of the beds, moth-eaten clothes hanging off their bones as they turned to face him.

Cloud stared. "You have got to be kidding me."

At some unseen signal, the two skeletons dashed forward, both raising their cutlasses. Cloud angled himself such that he could catch both swords with his, staring into the empty eye sockets over the crossed blades. He tensed his muscles, managing to throw them backwards a couple steps. Following them, he slashed horizontally before they could recover, decapitating them both at the same time.

He watched the bones warily as they fell to the floor, waiting to see if they would get up again. When they didn't, he carefully backed away, keeping his sword in his hand. "I need to get out of here," he muttered, moving to the door and carefully stepping into the hall.

It was a little brighter in the hallway, pale blue flames flickering in sconces every few feet on the wall. It wasn't in much better shape than the room had been, chunks of rotting wood missing from the walls and ceiling, and part of a broken beam completely blocking the hall to his right. He could see stairs to his left and headed towards them, descending down into the belly of the ship.

A few lanterns hung from the high beams overhead, lit with the same blue fire that flickered slightly as they gently swung back and forth. What Cloud could see of the room was filled with large wooden crates, many of them at least partially broken and spilling their moldy cargo across the floor. He couldn't even begin to guess what the contents had originally been. "The cargo hold," he muttered as he carefully began to pick his way amongst the maze of crates, keeping his sword in hand. The lamps were few and far between, leaving most of the room concealed in shadows that hid the debris littering the floor.

Cloud was about halfway across the room when he heard the crunch of rotten wood under foot off to his left and the swish of cloth through the air. He faced the noise reflexively, bringing up his sword in a defensive position. Metal clashed against metal as he met his attacker head on, blue eyes narrowing as he recognized his opponent across their locked weapons.

Vincent blinked, the only indication on his emotionless face that he was surprised. "Cloud," he greeted calmly, as if he wasn't holding back the blond's sword with his gun and gauntlet.

"Vincent," Cloud acknowledged, his response sounding just as commonplace. They stepped back at the same time, lowering their weapons. "Are you...alright, now?" the swordsman asked a bit warily. "You seemed pretty confused before."

Vincent tilted his head to the side slightly. "What do you mean?"

Cloud shrugged. "When you changed into galian beast. Last I saw, you had moved away from the fight and were howling and looking around as if you didn't know who to attack."

Vincent's brow furrowed in thought. He was silent for a moment before glancing back up at the blond. "When did this happen?" he asked.

"Right after the skeleton tossed you through the ship."

"Hm. I suppose I will not be 'alright' until after I get out of here," the gunman mused.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Galian beast will likely remain confused as long as I am in here. He will not attack Red XIII; however, he will not attack this ship, either," Vincent explained.

Cloud sighed, covering his eyes with his free hand. "Vincent, you're not making any sense."

"The situation in which we find ourselves does not make sense, Cloud. I have not transformed into galian beast today."

The blond visibly started. "What do you mean? I saw you! Red XIII saw you!"

Vincent shook his head. "The last thing I remember before waking up here was falling through the deck of the ship. If my body transformed, it was after I had left it."

"After you had..." Cloud trailed off, as he realized the full implication of those words. "You don't mean that we're dead, do you?" he asked, incredulous.

The dark-haired man shook his head. "I do not believe so. Call this an 'out of body' experience, if you will." He folded his arms, tilting his head back to look at he decaying boards above them. "An old and broken ship that is intangible, floats even though there is no water underneath it and appeared out of thin air. Does that not sound like the sailors' ghost ship to you?"

"So, you're saying our souls were pulled from our bodies when we fell through the ship?" Cloud asked, slumping back against a crate. It creaked ominously underneath his weight, but did not break. "Why did your body change into galian beast, then? I thought that only happened when you fell into a berserkers' rage."

"Galian beast comes out when I lose control," Vincent explained. "Normally, this is triggered by extreme anger. In this case, I merely disappeared, granting him control of my body by default." He stared pensively at the ground before continuing. "The demon cannot survive without a host, so he will not harm me. Similarly, he will not harm those I associate with unless they attack me. I assume he can sense my spirit inside this ship and thus cannot attack. The only others present were you and Red XIII, who are also off limits, so to speak. This is most likely the source of his confusion. He has been released from his confinement only to find he has no enemy to confront. And I am not there to wrest control of my body away from him."

Cloud sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. "In other words, we need to find the captain of this ship and get off. I don't know what will happen if Red XIII ends up joining us here or if he defeats it before we can get off and I'm not very eager to find out," he said.

"Agreed. I was looking around this room when I heard you walking around. I assumed you were...another one of the creatures I've run across here and attacked before you could sneak up on me," Vincent said by way of apology. "There are, however, only two exits. One is presumably the one you came down and the other is over in that direction. There was a third staircase, but the wood has long since rotted away. As it is, I'm not certain the other staircase will hold a grown man's weight."

Cloud shrugged, pushing himself away from the crate. "Well, let's go find out."

It turned out that the stairs were sturdy enough to support them, although the boards groaned loudly and buckled beneath their boots. The trapdoor at the top of the stairs was thrown open and they found themselves on the deck of the ship. Several of the blue flames hovered in the air high above them, slowing moving in between the lines of the rigging and through the holes in the sails. They were constantly moving, dimly lighting the deck with their pale light. Beyond that, there was nothing but darkness.

"No way!" Cloud breathed, his soft voice seeming to echo loudly in the silence. A few long strides took him to the side and he gripped the rail tightly as his eyes searched the black void surrounding the ship. "Don't tell me we're already too late!"

"I don't think so," Vincent remarked quietly, stepping up beside his comrade. "We are no longer in the physical realm. Different rules apply here. It may even be possible that Red XIII can see us standing here while he is invisible to our eyes."

"I thought it was supposed to be the other way around- you know, the spirits can see the living, but the living can't always see the spirits."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "I was unaware you were an expert on astral projection, Cloud," he stated, his emotionless voice sounding even more deadpan than usual.

Cloud blinked at the uncharacteristic sarcasm from the gunman before chuckling humorlessly. "Alright, point taken," he said, pushing himself away from the rail. "We should probably move on."

Vincent nodded. "The captain's quarters are traditionally located beneath the helm," he said, pointing towards a door underneath the large wheel used to steer the ship.

The door was locked but its sturdiness was what surprised the two companions most. Although it appeared to be as old and worn as the rest of the ship, the wood didn't budge an inch when they threw their combined weight against it. After several futile attempts, Cloud was fingering his sword as he considered the merits of simply chopping it down.

"I'm afraid you'll need the key to get in there," a disembodied voice piped up.

Cloud and Vincent both whirled around, searching for the source. "Who said that?" the blond demanded.

"I did. No need to get so testy, I was only offering a bit of friendly-" The voice cut off suddenly and Cloud felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as an unknown something dew near him. "Cloud? Cloud Strife? Is that really you?" the voice asked, shocked.

"Show yourself!" Cloud clenched his fists, trying to quell the urge to rub the goose bumps covering his arms. He refused to show any sign of weakness before this unknown entity. However, despite his best efforts, the blond took a startled step backwards as two dark eyes appeared inches away from his own.

"It is you!" the voice exclaimed as the rest of his face formed around the eyes. "I never thought I'd see you again! How many years has it been?"

"Do you know this person, Cloud?" Vincent asked, intrigued despite the circumstances.

"Uh..."

"Oh, come on! You can't have forgotten me!" The apparition floated back as the rest of his body appeared as if to help jog the blond's memory. "First Infantry, Barack C. You bunked underneath me for a year! We even applied for the SOLDIER program at the same time!"

Cloud scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, but it's been a long time," he apologized.

"Surely you can't have forgotten the, ah, incident with the lockers? Near the main lobby?"

All expression fled from the blond's face, an emotionless mask taking its place in an instant. "Ah, Dietrich. I didn't recognize you." His voice was as flat as Vincent's. "That's a good look for you."

The ghost curled in on himself, looking rather guilty as he moved backwards, out of Cloud's immediate reach. "Yeah, I thought you might remember that," he said, unable, or unwilling, to meet the blond's eyes. "I guess I can't blame you for still being angry about it."

Vincent caught Cloud's eye, a raised eyebrow silently prompting an explanation. Cloud sighed. "It was a hazing gone wrong. I was nominated as the scapegoat, despite the fact that I wasn't even there at the time." He shook his head. "But, it was a long time ago. Dietrich, what are you doing here? You were stationed in Midgar, not Junon."

The ghost put his arms behind his head, leaning back against the air behind him. "Well, our unit was assigned to escort some big-shot to Junon. Some of the troopers stationed here told us about the glass corridor leading up to the reactor. So, a few of us snuck out after curfew to check it out. It was fine until this boat showed up and then, well..." He trailed off, shrugging. "The others all ran faster than me."

"I'm sorry," Cloud said.

"Ah, don't worry about," the ghost said, waving aside his concern. "It could be worse. But, what about you? Last I heard, you were declared dead at the same General Sephiroth disappeared. How'd you swing that? And, from your eyes, it looks like you made it into SOLDIER, as well!"

"It's...a long story."

"Well, I've got the time, but if you and your friend want to get out of here, you should probably get a move on," Dietrich said. "It's hard to tell how much time has passed in the outside world from here."

"You mentioned something about a key," Vincent prompted.

"Yeah, I guess ole' Bart gets a kick out of making the newbies run back and forth across the ship before they can even get to him," the ghost explained. "The key to the door is back in the crews' quarters."

"Bart?" Cloud asked as they moved back down the stairs to the cargo hold.

"Captain Bartholomew something-something the third," Dietrich replied, straightening up as he assumed a mock military stance. "Descended from the finest stock in history and much too important for ShinRa to dispose of in a cover-up, which is apparently exactly what they did." The ghost shrugged, slumping back into a more comfortable position as he followed the blond maneuvering between the crates. "That's about as much as I cared to find out about the esteemed captain. The guy can't get over the fact that he was expendable and he thinks that grabbing as many ShinRa employees as he can is a good way to get back at the company."

"This must be a replica of his sunken ship," Vincent remarked from directly behind the ghost.

Dietrich yelped and leapt into the rafters before turning to glare at the gunman. "Don't do that!" he exclaimed, clutching one of the beams. "You're still a living soul- make some noise, would ya! ?"

Vincent merely gazed at the spirit while Cloud chuckled. "Leave it to Vincent to scare a ghost," the blond said, shaking his head. "But, what do you mean by 'living' soul? Does that mean we still have a chance to get out of here?" he asked, directing the inquiry to his former bunkmate.

The dead trooper glided back down, deliberately putting Cloud between Vincent and himself. "I guess it means you have a chance to get back, yeah. You aren't completely separated from your body," he said. "Not yet, anyway."

"Not completely separated?" the swordsman repeated.

Dietrich shrugged. "That's just speculation on my part. When people come here, they always act like they still have a body- like walking around the crates instead of going through them. Or, just walking in general. As far as I can tell, this isn't something they can control. It's as if their soul still thinks it is in their body. However, when that connection is broken, they act like me," he explained, demonstrating by floating through a crate. "That's why you should be making noise when you walk!" he said, pointing an accusing finger at Vincent.

"Vincent always walks quietly," Cloud stated. "I think it's a leftover habit from his time with the Turks."

"He was a Turk?" Dietrich floated over, circling the gunman and eyeing him appraisingly. "Hm. Yeah, I can definitely see it. I didn't realize their standards had slipped so far, though," he remarked, looking pointedly at the tattered red cloak before moving back over to the blond. "They always seemed to have a certain level of professionalism about them when I saw them."

"Well, Vincent hasn't been a part of the Turks for a number of years," Cloud said by way of explanation.

Dietrich blinked at him. "You have to be good to be drafted for the Turks. Tall, Dark and Creepy over here can't be a day past thirty. And, you're telling me he resigned years ago?" The ghost shook his head. "What, have they started recruiting from grade school?"

Cloud glanced at Vincent, who seemed indifferent to the fact that they were talking about him as if he weren't there. "It's...a long story," the blond said, stepping around one of the larger piles of debris.

"Aren't they all?" Dietrich chuckled. "Well, we'll have plenty of time to talk about it later."

"You seem certain we won't escape from this ship," Vincent remarked quietly.

Dietrich shrugged. "I've yet to see anyone make it out alive. But, an ex-Turk and a member of SOLDIER against the captain? I'm kinda curious to see how this plays out," he admitted. "You might want to keep that tidbit about the Turks to yourself though- I hear they were part of the clean-up crew that sent our dearly departed captain to his untimely demise."

"I'll keep that in mind." The blond paused as something occurred to him. "Exactly when did the captain die?" he asked.

"Well, it's hard to say. The captain isn't the best conversationalist, and that's assuming you can get him out of his cabin. But, from what the older ghosts have said- the two or three that are left, anyway -I figure he's been doin' this for around thirty, thirty-five years, give or take."

"Were you involved, Vincent?" Cloud asked, looking at his companion over his shoulder.

The dark-haired man was silent for a moment. "It is possible," he replied at length. "My memories prior to Nibelheim have lost much of their clarity over years."

Cloud nodded in understanding. His own memories from before the four years Hojo had experimented on him were a bit hazy, even with Tifa there to fill in the blanks. While the blond knew Vincent had slept, locked away in the basement of the ShinRa mansion for thirty years, he had no idea how long the gunman had spent as the mad scientist's guinea pig prior to that.

Dietrich glanced back and forth between the two men. "You think Vincent might have been the one who offed the captain?" he asked, studying the dark-haired man for a moment before shaking his head. "He's way too young!" The ghost paused, turning his speculative gaze on the swordsman. "You know something I don't. Care to share with the class?" he asked.

"Not really."

"Ouch! And here I thought we were buddies," Dietrich lamented. He jumped a little higher in the air, hands raised placatingly as Cloud gave him a look. "Alright, alright, so you couldn't stand me. Fair enough. But, you are the only person I've come across on this ship who knew me before I died. The others are a rather unfriendly lot. There's something about dying that makes a person incredibly cranky."

"I can't imagine why," Cloud deadpanned.

"Well, alright, there is the whole dying thing, but-" the ghost cut himself off with a startled gasp, recoiling in fear as his wide eyes stared over the blond's head.

Cloud whipped around to face whatever had scared the dead trooper, his hands tightening around the hilt of his sword. Some distance away he could see the profile of a figure dressed in a flowing black robe standing near the wall. He didn't seem to have noticed them or even be moving at all.

"What is that, Dietrich?" Cloud asked, reflexively lowering his voice to a soft whisper. "Dietrich?" he repeated after a moment, glancing behind him. The ghost was nowhere to be seen.

Vincent touched his shoulder, silently directing the blond's attention back to the robed person. The black cowl was pulled low over his head, hiding his features from view. One arm raised slowly, a milky white hand slipping out between the folds of dark cloth, the pale skin standing out starkly in the dark room. The hand hovered about chest height, the palm facing up as if waiting for someone to grasp it. A small light, no larger than the head of a pin, slowly rose up out of the palm. It hovered in place for a few seconds before gently gliding through the air, leaving a faintly glowing green trail behind it. The cloaked person watched intently as it meandered around, finally coming to rest on the wall a few feet away. Its glow intensified for a second before it complete faded away, as it if had never been. Vincent and Cloud watched as the robed figure moved over the spot the light had disappeared, studying the area intently. He raised his hand again, resting it against the wall for a brief moment before sliding it right through the wooden boards.

A terrified shriek shattered the silence, nearly making Cloud jump out of his skin. The wraith slowly withdrew his arm, clutching something tightly in his fist. Seemingly in slow motion, he raised his second hand and waved it in a circle, as if wiping steam from a mirror. A spirit appeared in front of him, twisting this way and that as he desperately tried to break free from the pale hand's iron grip on his arm.

"No! Let me go!" the ghost screamed, thrashing wildly.

The robed figure calmly grasped the other arm, holding the writhing spirit as easily as if he were a child. The wraith leaned forward, seeming to speak quietly to his captive, but it was impossible to tell with the cowl hiding his face. The ghost's struggles gradually lessoned until he was hanging limply in the wraith's arms.

"Please...don't do this..." the spirit begged, his voice no more than a whisper as his eyes slid closed. "I don't want to go...please..."

The cloaked person stood there for a moment more, watching as the spirit in his arms faded into hundreds of pinpricks of light. They glided gently through the air, leaving softly glowing green trails behind them as they retreated, disappearing through the floor.

Cloud exchanged a glance with Vincent, recognizing the sedate movements and telltale glow of the Lifestream. This person is forcing people to move on, sending them back to the Planet, he realized, a bit unsettled by the discovery. As he watched, the dark hood turned towards them, regarding the pair silently for a moment. One pale hand lifted, as if in greeting, but instead curled around the handle of a black scythe as it materialized out of thin air. The blond raised his sword. And, it looks like we're next.

For all of the wraith's slow movements previously, he proved he could move exceptionally fast when properly motivated. Vincent, preferring to fight at a distance, jumped clear as the cloaked figure charged them while Cloud parried the smaller weapon. Several shots rang out, creating small holes in the black robe that went clear through to the other side. The wraith didn't seem the least bit bothered by the bullets and the holes reformed almost immediately.

"It seems that he is an intangible to us as the ship was when we were outside of it," Vincent commented. "Interesting."

"His scythe seems solid enough," Cloud returned, sparks flying erratically as the two blades clashed again and again.

They continued exchanging blows while Vincent hung back, analyzing the situation. The cloaked figure jump backwards, Cloud following and swinging his sword horizontally to disarm his opponent. However, the wraith went straight through a support beam while the blond's sword sank deeply into the wood. The room above him seemed to groan as Cloud tried to pull his sword free.

"Be careful," Vincent advised. "I am uncertain how much more abuse the ship can take."

Cloud didn't reply, still struggling with his sword. It was almost as if the beam itself were refusing to release it. The wraith suddenly appeared above him, the scythe swinging downwards more quickly than the blond could react. Two more shots rang out, clanging loudly as they connected with the curved blade and sending it skittering across the floor.

Cloud finally wrenched his sword free as the wraith vanished in a dark mist, reappearing almost immediately where the scythe had fallen. He picked up his weapon and faced them once more, several small cracks now glowing white on the ebony blade.

The blond narrowed his eyes as he leapt to attack. The wraith met him head on and their weapons clashed again. This time, however, instead of merely trading blows, Cloud went on the offensive. He attacked quickly, giving the cloaked figure no time to retaliate or letting him retreat.

Vincent raised his eyebrow at the mercenary's strategy, knowing that such a tactic was tiring and already seeing signs of fatigue in his comrades strikes. However, he also noticed there were now twice as many cracks in the black blade and they were much larger than before. Cloud wasn't attacking the wraith- he was attacking the scythe. And, it didn't look like it could withstand much more of the brutal assault.

Cloud gripped his sword with both hands, clenching his teeth as he swung the blade down from over his head. The scythe finally broke, sounding eerily similar to shattering glass. The wraith immediately jumped back, putting some distance between himself and the swordsman. Cloud didn't follow, panting as he grimly waited to see what the robed man would do next. They stood there for a moment, each assessing the other silently. Then, the wraith spread his arms at his sides, as if showing he was unarmed, before almost slowly disappearing once more in a dark mist. The blond blinked, wondering if the faint smile he had glimpsed from beneath the dark hood was just a trick of the light or if this mysterious entity had been laughing at them as it vanished.

Vincent and Cloud both waited in tense anticipation for a few moments, warily scanning their surroundings. "It would appear that he has lost interest in us," the gunman said as length. "At least, for now." He silently made his way over to his companion. "How did you realize that the scythe was his weakness?"

"I was actually hoping that he wouldn't be able to attack us without his weapon," Cloud admitted.

"He did not require a weapon when dealing with the other soul," Vincent pointed out.

"That's true." Cloud shrugged. "It was the only thing I could hit, anyway. Your bullets went right through him and I don't think my sword would have been any different."

"Hm. Perhaps the difference lies in the 'living' souls versus the dead ones," Vincent hypothesized.

"Maybe," Cloud agreed. "If Dietrich ever comes back, we can ask him. For now, lets focus on finding that key."

The two finished making their way across the hold, ascending the rickety staircase back to the crew quarters. They both had to steady themselves on the wall when the continual rocking of the ship grew more pronounced, as if they had entered choppy waters. They continued climbing, being a bit more careful about their footing, and when they reached the top, Cloud stopped, staring down the hallway. The thick wooden beam that had been blocking the further end of the corridor was conspicuously absent.

"I could have sworn one of the beams had fallen," he said, glancing back at his companion.

"Indeed," Vincent agreed. "It seems one cannot access the key before visiting the captain's cabin."

"This guy really does like to make people run back and forth across the ship," Cloud muttered, striding down the hallway. He stopped outside of the only door that had been inaccessible previously, gripping the handle as he took a deep breath. Mentally preparing himself for what might lay beyond, he turned the knob and threw it open.

"Well, you bloody well took your time getting here!"

Cloud paused, blinking at the skeleton who had, presumably, addressed them. He was sitting at the table, absently holding a small flask with one hand while the other was drumming on the tabletop impatiently. To make the scene even more surrealistic, his head was nowhere to be seen.

"Well, don't just stand there- come in!" he said, gesturing impatiently. "You have things you want to do and so do I!"

Cloud did as instructed, scanning the room for weapons as he did so. Just because this corpse was talking to them didn't mean that he would act any differently than the two the blond had run into upon arriving on the ghost ship.

"Oh, you're both working together, I see," the headless skeleton noted, hearing two separate sets of footsteps enter his room. "Good, that'll make things go much more quickly."

"Do you have the key to the captain's cabin?" Cloud asked.

"What? Oh, the key, yes. All in due time, my good man, all in due time. But, first things first." The corpse leaned forward intently. "Do you see my head lying about anywhere?"

"Your...head?" Cloud repeated, his tone indicating he couldn't quite believe what he had heard.

"Yes, my head. Mostly just a skull, about the same color as the rest of my bones, lying somewhere about the room," he elaborated. "It fell off while I was sleeping last night and it is almost impossible to find without help. Do you see it or not?"

"No," Cloud said, looking around. He glanced at Vincent, who shook his head. "We don't see it in here."

"Well, it has got to be here somewhere. You'll not get the key until I've got my head back, I can tell you that."

Shrugging at the sheer weirdness of the situation he found himself in, Cloud began poking around the room, looking for the missing skull. He still kept one eye on the corpse although he didn't move from his chair by the table, doing nothing more than giving them encouragement from time to time. It was only a matter of minutes before the missing head was found and the skeleton eagerly fitted it back on his neck, sighing in relief.

"That's much better," he said, turning his head this way and that to make sure it was on right. "I think the phrase, 'don't lose your head' must have been coined by someone who was already dead. I've no idea how it caught on with the living, though."

"The key?" Vincent prompted.

"Ah, yes. The key." He rubbed his thumb over the flask in his hand thoughtfully. "You, uh, you don't happen to have any rum with you, eh?"

"No."

"Pity," he said, looking mournfully at the flask in his hand. "Mine's been gone for a long time. I'd like to taste it once more before the Harvester comes for me."

"The key?" Cloud tried again.

"Alright, alright," the skeleton replied, unscrewing the cap and sticking one bony finger into the bottle in an effort to get some of the long-dried residue off the sides. "It's nestled in the home of Leviathan's bane."

Cloud and Vincent blinked at each other. "What?" the blond asked.

"I said, it's nestled in the home of Leviathan's bane."

"Leviathan's...what is that supposed to mean?"

"Look, if you think I've got nothing better to do that sit here and come up with riddles about where the key is-" he paused, trying to suck non-existent remnants of rum from his finger before continuing, "-then you'd be absolutely right. All you're going to get from me is, it's nestled in the home of Leviathan's bane."

Cloud sighed in exasperation before turning to his companion. "Okay, Leviathan. Summon creature, basically a giant serpent, right? Causes a tidal wave to wipe out the enemy."

Vincent nodded. "Yes, but Yuffie received that summon from her father when she completed the five challenges of the Pagoda, correct? I doubt a sailor would be familiar with the particulars of that materia," he stated, crossing his arms. "However, due to the sheer power of summon materia, there have been cases of groups worshiping them as gods before. Leviathan would seem an ideal deity of the sea."

"Alright, so Leviathan's bane. The opposite of Leviathan would be Ifrit, right? Ifrit is a fire summon, so where would he live? A volcano?"

"I highly doubt there is a volcano on this ship, Cloud."

Cloud snorted. "Well, what are your thoughts on this?"

"Perhaps we are looking at this the wrong way," Vincent said, pacing pensively. "He said 'Leviathan's bane,' not 'Leviathan's enemy.' I don't think he is referring to Ifrit himself, but rather Ifrit's element, fire."

"Fire has to keep moving; it consumes all the fuel and burns itself out if it stays in one place. It doesn't really 'live' anywhere, as far as I can tell," Cloud said.

Vincent was silent, his head bowed in thought as he paced the floor. "What if," he said after a moment, "the fuel was continually provided by an outside source? Like a fireplace?"

"Or a lantern," Cloud agreed, glancing around the room. He noticed the skeleton looked distinctly putout.

"Indeed, a lantern does seem to fit the criteria," Vincent said, inclining his head slightly.

"There!" Cloud was already walking towards a corner of the room, having spotted a broken lamp lying there. He picked it up, shaking the shards of glass out of the globe and into his hand. He carefully looked through it before dropping the pieces on the floor and feeling around the wick with his fingers.

The skeleton pouted as Cloud produced the key. "Aw, man! I worked really hard on that one! Now I'll have to come up with something else!" he complained. He sighed, raising the empty bottle to his eye socket and peering into the dark interior. "Oh, well. It's not like I have anything better to do. But, I really wish you would have brought some rum with you..."

"Would you have given us the key without the riddle if we had?" Cloud asked.

"No. That's why I asked for it first."

Cloud shook his head. "Well, thanks anyway," he said, only a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"Don't mention it."

Key in hand, the two headed back across the ship, hopefully for the last time. They were almost through the cargo hold when the ship bucked violently. Reflexively, Vincent grabbed the closest solid object near him- one of the thick, wooden beams supporting the roof -and latched onto it as the ship lurched. He barely managed to stay on his feet, watching with alarmed fascination as the large crates and other debris slid across the floor. Boards snapped, metal clanged loudly against metal and glass shattered as everything crashed into everything else. Vincent grunted as various blunt objects slammed into him, forcing him closer to the pillar. He braced himself against the wooden support, still using it to stay on his feet while being sure to keep a bit of space between the beam and himself, so as to ensure he didn't end up pinned to it.

Cloud wasn't quite as lucky as his companion. He had been picking his way between the crates a few feet ahead of Vincent when the ship pitched sharply to one side. He grabbed onto the largest crate within arms reach- one that was almost as tall as he was and just as wide. He staggered slightly as the broken boards shifted beneath his feet, being pushed by the other debris as it slid over the floor. He tightened his grip on the crate as the boards threatened to take his feet out from underneath him, but the rotten wood splintered beneath his hand.

Cloud reflexively tried to catch himself, but his foot slipped in between two of the boards. He fell sideways into the large crate, the wood crumbling beneath his weight, and landed heavily on the decayed cargo within. He gasped as his ankle was wrenched painfully, still stuck between the boards, and promptly choked on the dust and mold that his fall had thrown into the air.

Vincent elbowed aside various bits of the rubble that had filled the open space around him once the violent rocking had subsided somewhat. A quick glance about the room revealed a much-changed landscape and the swordsman was nowhere to be seen. "Cloud?" he asked, eyes searching the area where he thought he had last seen his companion. He could tell the general direction the blond's hacking coughs where coming from, but could not quite pinpoint his exact location amid the wreckage.

Once he had managed to get his breathing under control, Cloud's next immediate concern was his ankle, which was still sitting a painful angle. He felt around with his free foot, finding and roughly kicking off the board trapping his other leg before gently lifting the injured limb back into a natural position. He simply lay there for a bit, concentrating on his breathing (being mindful of his still-irritated lungs) while he waited for the pain to subside to a more manageable level.

"Cloud?" Vincent called again, a touch of concern in his tone as he continued clearing a path, tracking the blond by his harsh breaths.

"I'm alright," Cloud bit out, gingerly pushing himself to a sitting position while keeping his hurt ankle in the air. Whatever was littering the floor of the crate had a lot of hard angles, and Cloud's ribs and hip didn't appreciate landing on top of them. He kicked the rest of the boards that had pinned his foot back, clearing a small space on the floor where he gently rested the injured limb as he contemplated the best way to go about standing up. What remained of the sides of the crate where obviously not up to the task of supporting his weight and there didn't seem to be anything within his immediate reach that was sturdy enough to help him.

One of the smaller crates was nudged aside and it was then that Vincent stepped into view, silently assessing the situation. Cloud's clipped answer, coupled with the fact that he had yet to stand, indicated that he had been wounded in some way. There were no obvious lacerations or punctures and the blond wasn't holding any of his limbs in a way that suggested an injury...except for the ankle he was carefully holding at a right angle while the other was extended such that the sole of his boot rested flush against the floor. The gunman's assessment took no more than a few seconds and he extended a hand to his companion.

Cloud took the offered limb, letting Vincent pull him to his feet. The ex-Turk grabbed his arm with both hands as Cloud staggered, the gunman holding him upright as the blond reflexively tried to curl in on himself.

"Sorry," Cloud panted between clenched teeth, his free arm clutching his side tightly. "Guess I landed harder than I thought." He took a few semi-deep breaths, waiting for the throbbing to lessen before carefully standing straight. Vincent released his arm once he had regained his balance and Cloud tested his weight on his leg, taking a few small steps. "Doesn't seem to be broken," he noted, wincing as his ankle twinged painfully when he stepped on an uneven portion of the floor. "I should be able to make it out of the cargo hold on my own, at least."

Vincent nodded, wordlessly taking the lead and pushing the larger pieces of debris aside to clear a path. Cloud followed with short, halting steps, using his sword as a walking stick as he tried his best not to bend his ankle.

Despite the handicap, it wasn't long before they were standing on deck once more, the floating lights throwing eerie shadows across the wooden planks. The click of a gun being loaded caught Cloud's attention and he glanced toward his companion, searching for the cause of alarm. The blond clenched his jaw, biting back a curse as he saw the black robed figure standing in front of the captain's door.

Vincent had moved in front of Cloud, knowing the blond wouldn't be able to fight with a sprained ankle. His arms were down at his sides, held a little away from his body, gun in one hand and gauntlet on the other. The metal claws clinked softly as he moved his fingers, getting ready for the fight.

The hooded figure turned his head, as if just realizing they were there. They all three stood there for a long moment, Vincent waiting for the scythe to materialize while the harvester merely watched them. At long last, the cloaked man turned to face them fully. Cloud's eyes narrowed as he thought he saw that ghostly grin again beneath the hood, but before he could say anything, the harvester stepped aside, allowing them access to the captain's quarters. Warily, they stepped past him, put the key in the lock and opened the door.

The captain was indeed in his quarters, standing near the windows and gazing out into the darkness beyond. His hair, once dark brown but now faded with age and liberally streaked with gray, was pulled back into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. His uniform looked freshly pressed and his gloved hands were loosely clasped behind his back. He was standing behind a dark mahogany desk with a tall-backed executive office chair. A few detailed maps and charts were lying on the polished surface, and the captain's log was open with a pen resting along the inner spine. An expensive chandelier hung over the desk, bathing the room in a soft golden light. Several paintings adorned the walls and a well-made Wutain rug covered the floor. The splendor of the room contrasted sharply with the decrepit state of the rest of the ship.

"So, you finally decided to pay your respects to the captain," he said, turning to face them. "Captain Bartholomew James Winchester the III." He gave sweeping bow, although his gray eyes regarded them coolly as he sized them up with a practiced eye. "I've heard a bit about you already. Which one of you is with the Turks?"

Vincent raised an eyebrow, a little surprised that the news had traveled so fast. "Formerly of the Turks," he stated with an imperceptible shrug.

The captain threw his head back and laughed, the sound hollow and harsh. "Lies won't save you now. How stupid do you think I am, son? Even I know the only way out of the Turk's is into the grave."

"I did not say otherwise," Vincent stated implacably.

"So, you've decided to go down without a fight?" the captain asked, stroking his beard as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Or, do you think you can pull one over on the good captain?"

"I have no intentions of dying here." Vincent casually moved his hand to rest on his gun.

The captain snorted. "You can keep your double-talk. I've broken tougher men than you. When I was killed, I didn't see it coming- a bullet from behind by a coward in a blue suit." He turned his head and spat on the ground. He looked back at the gunman, leering predatorily. "But, for you, I can guarantee that it won't be that quick, or painless."

Vincent didn't reply, his face expressionless as his crimson orbs coolly returned the captain's gaze.

Bartholomew moved in front of the desk, pacing agitatedly. "You think you're so tough- all of you! The Turks', the SOLDIERS-" Here, he gestured angrily to Cloud, who was standing near the wall behind Vincent, "-everyone in that thrice-cursed corporation! ShinRa Electric Company, and they have their own army! Those bastards think they rule the world!" He stopped pacing and turning back to his 'guests.' "But, in here, I have the power! It's what I say that goes!" he sneered. "And, I don't like guns."

Vincent jerked in surprise as his gun flew out of its holster, landing in the captain's outstretched hand. The seaman looked it over briefly before tossing it carelessly over his shoulder. It clattered noisily on the floor behind the desk.

"Now, then," the captain said, grinning evilly, "I like to start things out fairly, so I'll match your claw with one of my own." He lifted his left arm it they changed, shifting and hardening into a grossly oversized lobster crusher claw.

Vincent didn't have time to be shocked as the captain attacked, using the crusher claw as a bludgeon. The gunman parried with his gauntlet, the metal ringing loudly against the shell with each strike. He was slowly being forced back under the ruthless assault and he angled his body such that his retreat would take him away from Cloud, so as to not draw the injured blond into the fight. He managed to land a few hits of his own with his flesh arm, although the captain seemed to be able to take as good as he could give.

The tide turned when Bartholomew caught Vincent's arm in his claw, the metal slowly deforming under the crushing grip. The ex-Turk lashed out with his other fist, eyes widening marginally as it passed right through his opponent's body. The captain swiped viciously at Vincent's abdomen, ripping through clothing and flesh alike. The gunman gasped involuntarily, staggering as the seaman smirked.

"You didn't think the claw was all that I could do, didja?" the captain asked, holding up his right hand. The fingers seemed longer than normal and each one was tipped in a wicked-looking talon. Vincent's blood ran in rivulets down the mariner's arm.

There was a flash of white and the captain let out an unearthly howl of pain, jerking back reflexively as Cloud's sword sliced clean through his left arm and embedded itself in the wall. Once severed, the crusher claw turned back into a human hand, falling limply to the ground. Vincent also went down, arms clutching his midsection as his blood stained the floor.

Bartholomew gestured roughly and the blond was slammed into the opposite wall, the wood melding around his arms and legs. Struggle as he might, Cloud could not free himself. "That wasn't wise, boy," the captain bit out, holding the severed stump of his arm. "I was going to let you live a bit longer than your friend, but I see that you just won't wait. Let's see how you like having your own weapon turned against you!" he said maliciously, giving the blond a cruel smile. There was a brief pause, as if he were waiting for something to happen before he turned and glared at the sword. "Come here!" he snapped, holding out his hand impatiently. The massive blade didn't move.

Grinding his teeth, the seaman turned back to his captive. "I guess I'll just have to deal with you the old-fashioned way," he said, advancing on the blond.

Cloud's attention, however, was on Vincent. He saw the gunman's eyes glow as if lit by an inner fire, watched the first tendrils of red energy form and grow- all signs the gunman was falling into a berserker's rage. Vincent's transformations were the direct result of him losing enough control to allow his 'inner demon,' as he termed it, to overpower him and use his body. However, galian beast was unable to come onto the ghost ship with Vincent. What, then, was he changing into now?

The captain, noticing that he didn't have Cloud's undivided attention, turned to see what could be more important to the blond than his own eminent demise. By now the red energy had formed a wall around Vincent, glowing so brightly that it almost hurt to look at it. However, instead of converging on him as it normally did, it shot forward, solidifying into a crouching figure in front of him.

The figure rose to his feet in a fluid motion, stretching languidly as if he hadn't been able to move for a long time. His skin was pale blue in color, contrasting against the vivid red hair that was swept back and away from his face. Tattered, bat-like wings unfurled to their fullest, filling the cabin with their impressive span for a few seconds before closing once more to allow for greater mobility in the enclosed space. His glowing yellow eyes opened and surveyed the scene before him, their inner light seeming to intensify as his gaze landed on the captain. The demon smiled, lips pulling back to reveal glistening fangs.

"I don't know how you managed to summon that creature," the captain said, scowling at the ex-Turk, "but it won't do you any good. I control it now. Attack your former master!"

The demon's smile grew a little wider as it took first one step and then another towards the startled mariner.

"No! I control you now! Attack him!" Bartholomew yelled frantically, taking an involuntary step back. When the winged demon didn't stop, he gestured with his hand, sending the large desk hurtling through the air.

The demon raised one wing to shield himself, brushing away the writing table as if it were a fly.

"What is that?" Cloud asked, surprised by the sudden turn in events.

Vincent looked almost as stunned as the blond. "Chaos," he said faintly, as if his mind was far away. "The Destroyer of Life."

"Destroyer of life?" Cloud repeated. "What does that mean?"

"His purpose is to return all life to the Planet." Vincent shook his head, clenching his jaw against the pain as his injury throbbed. "I'm sorry, Cloud. I do not know how I came by this information, but that is all I know. He is tied to the Lifestream, which is likely why he is able to appear here."

"Well, at least it seems he isn't affected by whatever power the captain has, luckily for us."

Vincent nodded his assent and opened his mouth to speak, but ended up coughing harshly instead. A thin stream of blood leaked out from the corner of his mouth and ran down his chin.

"Hey, are you okay?" Cloud asked, concern coloring his voice.

"This wound will not kill me," Vincent answered, his voice sounding strained.

Chaos had slowly cornered his prey, who was still intermittently throwing furniture at the demon and trying to gain control of it. Now the captain was backed into a corner, pressed up against the wall. Chaos viciously ranked his claws across the seaman's stomach, giving him an identical wound to Vincent's.

"No!" Bartholomew shrieked, growing desperate. "You cannot touch me! YOU CANNOT TOUCH ME!" With nowhere else to run, he slipped through the wall, trying to get away from the demon.

Immediately, Chaos grabbed his shoulder, claws piercing flesh as he dragged the captain back and threw him almost casually to the middle of the room. The demon stamped one foot on the ground, sending a shock wave running through the wooden floorboards and up the walls. Cloud fell to the ground as he was abruptly ejected from the wall. He quickly scrambled to his feet, limping over to Vincent as fast as he was able.

Having cut off any and all means of escape, Chaos advanced on his prey once again. His eyes narrowed at the cry of surprise from Cloud, turning his head to see the cause of alarm. Vincent had passed out and the blond was trying to staunch the blood still freely flowing from his abdomen. Snarling at the expedited timetable, the demon turned back to the captain- still screaming and threatening incoherently -and brutally swiped both claws across his neck. The force was enough to separate the head from his body and it fell to the floor, bouncing once before rolling onto its side.

The abrupt silence was enough to draw Cloud's attention and he glanced up, noting Chaos standing over the fallen captain. He also noticed that the harvester had entered the room at some point and was now standing behind the demon.

Before Cloud could open his mouth to call out a warning, Chaos turned, sensing the presence behind him. The blond couldn't help but stare as the cloaked figure bowed deeply to the demon, a profound sense of respect displayed in that simple act. Without waiting for acknowledgement, the harvester bent down and laid his hands on the captain's corpse, finally sending it back to the Planet. Cloud watched with some alarm as the entire room began to fade away, knowing instinctively that it was happening all over the ship. Now that the captain was gone, everyone who had been trapped here would be sent on the Lifestream.

Not sure what that would mean for he and Vincent, and not quite ready to make that final journey just yet, he looked back to Chaos. The demon, however, had disappeared, but the harvester was watching him intently. For the third time, Cloud saw that ghostly smile beneath the hood just before the floor faded away underneath him and he fell, the gently glowing green of the Lifestream swirling all around him.

. . .

Cloud regained consciousness slowly, knowing there was something that required his immediate attention, but struggling to remember what it was. Taking stock of his person, he realized he was lying on a hard surface with no clear memory of how he had ended up there. A soft whine sounded off to his right, but it didn't seem to be connected to the urgent something that needed to be done, so he dismissed it. Something cold and wet nudging his cheek was harder to ignore and he jerked in surprise, eyes flying open and staring up into the concerned face of Red XIII above him.

"Cloud! Are you alright? I didn't see any injuries, but I was worried when you didn't respond!" the feline said, sitting back to give the swordsman some room. "Galian beast seems to have calmed somewhat, but he's still making me nervous. I hope Vincent changes back soon."

Cloud blinked up at the domed roof of the glass corridor, still a bit disoriented. Vincent... There was something about Vincent and...galian beast? No... Chaos... the blond thought, trying to clear the haze from his mind. There was a dull thump as a body hit the ground, followed by a familiar pained groan. Cloud's eyes widened as the memories came back to him, quickly pushing himself to a sitting position as he glanced around for his injured friend. "Help Vincent, he's been badly wounded!" he instructed the feline.

Red XIII had glanced over in surprise when Vincent fell follow his transformation back to his human form. Cloud's words sent him bounding over to the gunman, although he had not seen Vincent injured during the fight. As the feline neared his fallen friend, he caught the scent of blood, his eyes widening in alarm. Carefully grasping the ex-Turk's shoulder with his teeth, he rolled him over onto his back. Although there were no marks in the clothing, he could see the blood seeping through Vincent's shirt. Setting his confusion aside, he concentrated on the materia in his bracer, focusing on the unseen wound.

Several potions and high level healing spells mended most of the damage to Vincent's abdomen and Cloud's ankle, allowing the group to press on. Red XIII was acutely curious about what had happened to them (and how Cloud had known Vincent was injured when he had been unconscious), but the gunman had pointed out that they were on a time-sensitive mission, so the feline agreed that casual discussions could wait until after they had retrieved the Huge Materia. Cloud was grateful for the reprieve, as he wasn't sure he believed what had happened himself.

When they reached the reactor at the end of the corridor, Red XIII went ahead to scout the area, as his companions were moving a bit slower than usual due to their mostly healed injures. Cloud crouched behind a large crate, keeping a look-out for any soldiers while Vincent checked his equipment.

"Did that...did that really happen?" the blond asked, glancing at his companion.

Vincent didn't reply, looking over the materia in his gun with a critical eye before taking one out and replacing it with another from a pouch on his belt.

"I mean, it felt so real at the time, but now..." Cloud shrugged his shoulders. "Now, it just seems like a bad dream."

"It is possible."

Cloud raised an eyebrow. "Then how would you explain the wounds?"

Vincent pulled a box of bullets from his pocket and began refilling the magazine. "Galian beast, in his confusion, clawed at his own stomach, which transferred to me when I changed back. You landed wrong and sprained your ankle when you fell through the ship," he supplied.

"And, did I pass out from the pain, or did I hit my head and knock myself out?" Cloud asked, a small grin gracing his features.

The corner of Vincent's lip twitched upwards in his version of a smile, but he didn't answer.

"Alright, so let's say it was a dream. How do you explain us both having the same one?" the blond asked, scanning the room for soldiers or Red XIII.

The gunman didn't miss a beat. "A hallucinogen or some variation of the Manipulate materia, undoubtedly caused by falling through the ghost ship."

Cloud looked back at him, his expression indiscernible. "Do you really believe that it didn't happen?"

Now there was a pause. "I don't know." Sensing blond's confusion, Vincent continued. "As you said, it seems real and yet not. There are other explanations to be had, which means I must examine the reliability of the source." He looked up, meeting Cloud's gaze before turning his attention back to the ammunition. "You created an illusion of who you were to protect your sanity and convinced yourself it was true, essentially living as someone else for almost a year. I have demons residing inside of me, constantly whispering to my mind. Which one of us can truly be considered a reliable source?"

The blond smiled humorlessly. "That's true enough, I guess," he conceded.

"I've gone over everything and have come to a satisfactory conclusion," the gunman continued. "Captain Bartholomew James Winchester the III was destroyed and moved on to the Lifestream, or it was merely a hallucination." He replaced the magazine in his gun, locking it in place with a quiet click. "Either way, the issue has been resolved and won't cause further problems in the future. It does not matter whether it was real or not."

Cloud chuckled quietly, shaking his head. There weren't many people who could be that practical about as unique an experience as this. "In any case, I've not had much good luck with boats. I used to suffer terribly from motion sickness when I was younger; we ran into Sephiroth on the crossing from Junon to Costa Del Sol a couple months back, and now this. I'll be happy if I never have to set foot on another boat again!"

"Well, then I've got bad news for you," Red XIII said, rounding the crate to their little hiding place. "They've loaded the Huge Materia onto a submarine and it's going to be launching in about fifteen minutes."

Cloud closed his eyes, briefly cursing his luck before pushing himself to his feet and shouldering his sword. "That doesn't give us much time. If we hurry, we might be able to stop it before they launch. Let's move out!"

As they followed Red XIII to the docking bay, Cloud thought about Vincent's words. He had to admit, the man had a point. Whether it really happened or not didn't matter. Right now, they had a job to do.

. . .

The End