Phoenix Down.

(Sky Eyes. Tea-holic. Sailor Mouth. Pilot.)

There are times when, working on a new piece of machinery in particular, Cid will be so consumed with his work that he calls out for a woman he has never met to bring him whatever tool it is he needs.

(Engineer. Oxygen Giver. Rocket Killer. Wife.)

She had contracted Geo-Stigma on the back of her hand. Cid hadn't been this terrified since…well since the whole meteor ordeal. He doesn't say anything about it. He has to stay strong for her. But she gives him this look over her tea-cup during breakfast and somehow-

Shera. Space. Shera. Take-off. Accomplish his dream at the price of one woman's life. That wasn't so bad, was it? After all what was one life when compared to - Wait! Stop it! This was Shera! SHERA! The hell you thinkin' old man? Abort!

She'd been right. All these years, she'd been right. And she knew it but had still let him blame-

(Fayth Thought. Crybaby. Water Born. Guardian.)

Sometimes Tidus wonders if he takes the idea of having a "dream girl" too far.

(Summoner. Half-breed. Calm Chaser. Sacrifice.)

Sweat bathes her skin and when she opens her eyes he can see that her eyes are…her eyes are…on unsteady feet she beams, "I have done it, I have become a-"

She keeps her lips stubbornly still, her hand forms a fist at her side. And that's it. Tidus has never wanted to hurt someone so much in his life. He doesn't care if Seymour is already dead – he'll kill the bastard all over again for doing this to-

She dances and it is beautiful and he never ever wants to see her do it again.

She is crying and Tidus knows he probably shouldn't do this. Knows it may be viewed as taking advantage of her. Knows it's a bad idea. Knows what waits for her now in Zanarkand. Knows what Wakka and Auron – and Lulu too, for that matter- will do to him if they find out. He kisses Yuna anyway.

Tidus figures he probably does. Take it too far, that is. He is also innately aware that he has been seventeen before… and he had found himself in her.

That notion is one real enough for him.

(Magic Boy. Mold Breaker. Hat Kid. Crystal Seeker.)

A long time ago, when he was little, he spilled a glass of juice on one of the watercolor pictures his teachers seemed so intent on having their students produce. The pigments had run together, forming shapes that could hazily be made out as the original image…but altogether was something quite different.

There are days when Vivi stares at the sky and his memories – imaginings - run together just like those water paints and juice had.

Silver Dragon. Death Angel. Blade Princess. Rose Knight. Rusty Armor. Salamander Flame. Rain Lancer. Moogle Girl.

His hair burns brighter and more violently than the sun. He's a giant. A bounty-hunter who fights in the style of a monk. Vivi doesn't understand him so Vivi avoids him. Amarant's a man of too many secrets for his taste. Freya, however, seems intrigued –

Dagger was one of the most ironic names she could have picked. There was nothing sharp at all about Garnet. She was soft edges and sweet whispers…a bit of a mischievous streak, true enough, yet never the reckless kind. And there was nothing wrong with gentleness! Nothing at all. That's why he couldn't understand why she wanted so desperately to be a blade. All Gar- Dagger needed to be for her kingdom was-

Beatrix has a way of making men uncomfortable. Vivi has a theory that this is something she has come not only to expect, but to rely on, as well.

They bleed mist. They look exactly like him. Mass produced, time allotted. Vivi can't-

The world ends with monsters. Monsters with black faces and yellow eyes, just like him - just like the mages - and Vivi can't-

Vivi can't shake that feeling even after the juice saturates and the original images are long forgotten.

(Flower Girl. Savior. Ancient. Cheeky.)

Children are playing in the square. Aerith watches them for longer than she probably should.

There. Right there. The loud one. The showboat with the mop of black hair. He's the one she can't take her eyes off of. She doesn't know the child, that much is for certain…it's just…sometimes in his play he gets this expression…one reminding her of someone she used to know a very long time ago.

(Boyfriend. Memory Donor. Otherself. SOLDIER.)

Zack.

She doesn't know the name, though she feels she really ought.

Zack. Young man. Handsome man. A flirt. Fought under the command of-

Instinctively her thin arms wrap around her abdomen.

She hugs herself. Aerith really ought to know this.

(Problem Child. Golden. Dreamer. Fire Son.)

Their dream is the same. Just as they have been the same for…well. Always.

(Crimson Eye. Rage. Bone Flesh. Pandemona.)

One soul, three bodies. Three hearts, one dream.

(Thunder Blood. Imposing. Loyal Brother. Impertinent.)

It evens out.

They had been watching the meteors fall for days now. None of them had any idea what it meant – none put much thought into it.

Far too soon, the civilian screams around them have died out and the trio is alone, on their knees, in the center of the cobbled Balamb city street. Sweating and panting and spent.

They form a tight triangle, their backs facing inwards, with weapons in hand. Seifer has hardly touched Hyperion since Sorceress Fall. Yet in this moment he clings to the steel, grateful for the extension of his arm…though by now he can no longer feel it, let alone lift it.

The next wave comes before they are ready – not that they ever were ready- and, as if sensing that the posse has already been beaten, the creatures advance slowly in their victory. Manifesting from the walls, the ground, the ocean, they assemble ringed ranks around the young fighters, surrounding them quite completely. Hundreds of yellow eyes regard the group in a way he would swear was curious.

Growling lowly in the back of her throat, Seifer nearly starts when he hears his female friend warn the creatures, "No closer."

The next instant Fujin (wonderful steel-hearted Fujin) in one smooth, whip like, motion swings her chakram overhead, arches her back, and lets it fly.

It circles tightly – Seifer has to lean backwards least it takes off his nose- once, twice, cutting down the nearest enemies. Only too quickly, it's too much momentum, he can tell. For on the third go around when Fujin reaches out to catch the weapon, she slices off her little finger in the process. He feels rather than hears her sharp, shocked intake of breath … but then, instead of crying out, she is switching hands and the weapon sings furiously through the air once more.

Her efforts hardly dent the shadow numbers. However, Raijin is lurching to his feet beside him, reaching down to grasp the wrist of Fujin's profusely bleeding hand and hoist her up as well. And, without a word, they understand each other. Digging the tip of Hyperion into the ground, Seifer uses the gunblade as a crutch in order to haul himself into a standing position.

His arms are shaking, not for fear but fatigue, as he lifts the blade and points it at the nearest shadow. Over his shoulder, Seifer tells them, "We go together!"

And they did.

(Sportsman. Protector. Brother. Faith Driven.)

Wakka has never been what one would call…good with words.

As such, he has no titles, no flowery adjectives, no real name by which to call she whom lingers constantly on the edge of his peripheral.

(Black Magic Woman)

…but that about sums it up fairly nicely, ya?

(Butterfly. Sunshine. Messenger Girl. Trabia.)

In her nightmares, Selphie sees the end of days.

Squall's voice is blaring from the speakers overhead, shouting out instructions. Unfortunately his roar is lost amidst the general chaos.

There are three of them. Three of the giant monsters. They are larger, so much larger, than the knee high, yellow eyed, shadows that creep up from the floor. No, these giant ones…their heads brush the Garden's ceiling, the long arms and feelers sweeping back and forth (they've already taken out the elevators, she tries not to dwell on the fact that this means Squall is now trapped in Cid's office)…and those holes in their chests…she's never seen anything like these before. Ever.

The small, scared little girl in her wants Irvine. But Galbadia stopped responding well over two hours ago.

(Cowboy. Gunslinger. Ladies Man. Breakdown.)

Almost every SeeD has thrown down their arms. Marking Balamb Garden as lost, they concentrate their efforts now instead on evacuating the cadets and other personnel.

Aside from for one.

(Boxer. Ink Skin. Zealous. Poultry.)

Only Zell seems undaunted, weaving in and out between the monsters large legs, attacking again and again in a near constant state of limit break…but she knows that is only how it seems. Zell is terrified.

Wanting to do something, only not knowing what, Selphie concentrates on Carbuncle, willing the Guardian Force to help Zell.

The cry comes from behind Selphie -too late, it's already far too late- "Stop summoning!"

As the woman approaches, it's easy to see the blood pouring from the laceration on her temple, quite possibly caused by her own weapon. Selphie wishes Quistis would stop looking at her like that. Like Selphie has just done something horribly, horribly wrong.

(Instructor. Prodigy. Ice Queen. War Goddess.)

The blonde jabs her finger at the three black monsters, naming them in turn, "Shiva! Siren! Quezacotl! We can't summon anymore, they turn into those."

The brunette is gaping, and wiping the sweat from her brow, "But how?"

Quistis looks grim and doesn't respond. She's already jogging towards a group of wide-eyed cafeteria staff.

When they –the shadows- rip Carbuncle's (cute little green Carbuncle) heart from his chest, Selphie has her answer.

And she really was horribly, horribly wrong.

(Vagabond. Art Patron. Falcon Feller. Gambler.)

"Oh my hero, so far away now…"

Setzer never knew what hit him. One moment he had been strolling along. The next he was passing the music hall – and there was a strain of a song and a wisp of a scent and Setzer stopped in his tracks…somewhere very far away, indeed.

"My life is a chip in your pile. Ante up."

Treasure Hunter his arse. That thief was many things but a 'treasure hunter' was…in fact, where was Cole? He had a few things to say to that man…

Not Maria? A general? Beautiful? A bet? Now this was an interesting development!

Who knew the Figaro king was such a scoundrel? Setzer would have sworn his loyalty a long time ago.

"When things fall, they fall!"

She never should have pushed the ship so hard. She knew, she had to have known, the engines could never take that kind of abuse, so why would she…? Because she wanted to win, of course. Curse him and his pride! He knew, he had to have known, that she would…She'd always been high-spirited and Darill-…Darill she…she…

"…forever yours. Come what may, I won't age a day, I'll wait for you alw-"

He shakes it off and continues on his way, stalking past the theatre, his mood far darker and foul than it was at previous. Setzer snorts…what do these Twilighters know of talent, anyway?

(Knight. Commander. Griever. Lionheart.)

In sleep, Leon knows her.

"Be sure to inform me when you reach Timber."

This causes the girl to straighten and salute, snapping out a louder-than-is-strictly-necessary, "Yes, Sir! Commander, Sir!"

Squall frowns, too late catching his authoritative tone. A few people milling about the train station have paused to glance in their direction. Most, however, have not, living in Balamb the citizens have become quite used to the comings and goings of SeeD.

Rinoa's soldier façade breaks, her shoulders shake with silent laughter.

With a sigh he reaches out to pull her hand down and away from her face, stating in a somewhat more conversational tone, "You still do that wrong, you know."

Rinoa doesn't let go of his hand. He doesn't try to take it back. She hums contently and rocks back on her heels, "Yeah, I know. No smiling, right?"

"I meant the salute." He raises an eyebrow, noting her own, increasingly impish, smile, "…That was horrible."

With mock disdain, she wrenches her hand away to slap him on the shoulder, "Hey! I'm a good pretend SeeD!"

She hits him again for rolling his eyes…then she is standing on her toes, kissing him.

(Sorceress. Princess. Angel. Wingheart.)

He pulls back first, resting his forehead against her own, "Let me know when you get home."


"I will."

Had he known that was to be their last moment together, Squall would have kissed her longer. He would have told her that this time...this time when the world ended he would be here. He would be here waiting for her. He would never have let her set foot on that train.

But he didn't know. So he doesn't do anything.

And when Leon wakes up, dreams and memories disappearing with the moon…even if he can't realize it, that is exactly what Leon is doing. He is waiting for her. Here.

As promised.

"Vinnie Valentine, you are the worst housekeeper in history! Of the world! Of all time! Of…of ever!"

She is half stomping, half hopping around the foyer….due to the fact that crumpling on the floor and whining piteously about her hurt foot had failed to garner any sympathy from the man. That or he just didn't want to get close enough for her quick fingers to snag at the various devices and goodies that he hid on his person. Vincent was crafty like that.

Still. He could have at least pretended to be concerned when she tripped over that rotted out piece of support beam. Seriously. This has been his home for how long now? And he couldn't even bother to clean up the junk that was literally falling from the rafters? And yeah, yeah, ninja grace and cat-like reflexes …she should have seen it and…well…she didn't, okay? Drop it. Everyone has their off days.

Nevermind he had told her to keep her shoes on and watch her steps. However, in Yuffie speak, telling her to keep her shoes on was usually shortly accompanied up by, "And let me show you the door."

She should have known Vincent wouldn't do that to her. For one, he'd never bother with such niceties. He'd just tell her to "Get out." or "Go away, Yuffie." …which she knows because he has told her this a few times now in the past hour. She's simply failed to hear him. Boy really should learn to speak up.

And two, he would have told her to keep her shoes on for the same reason he told her to keep her jacket on and to please, please, stop throwing the contents of her backpack all over the place. Psh. C'mon buddy, it's not like you don't have room to spare. And they'd traveled together…saved the world…a couple of times. That meant it was Yuffie's god given right to make herself however much at home as she so pleased whenever she so wanted.

So there.

From where he's lounging (sulking, she is convinced) on the window seat he informs her, with no small amount of derision, " As previously stated, I was not expecting the pleasure of your company."

Yuffie forgets she's not supposed to be able to hear him, "Maybe if 'ya checked your texts once in a while, you'd have known!" she never did send one saying she'd be stopping by, she just doesn't appreciate how he never replies to them and this seems as good as an opportunity to get the dig in as any…and because she's still bitter and needs the last word, adds, "Dummy!" Just for good measure, before resuming her lumbering hop-stomp around the foyer.

"And! And you still owe me seventy gil!" The others don't know it (Cid might), but he's a wicked poker player. The only reason he owes her money is because she uh…happened to have a few extra cards that she um…forget it, it's not important, "Now I know Cloud doesn't like paying back his debts…but that is one page you do not need to be taking from his book, Mister!"

She has to pause for breath. Once she catches it and opens her mouth for what is sure to be the coup de grace of amazingly-lame-things-Yuffie-has-ever-said-in-front-of-Vincent-Valentine…

It happens. And it hits her harder than a Fire 3 spell to the chest.

Vincent is smiling at her.

(Turk. Sinner. Monster Vessel. Sharpshooter.)

Vincent. Is. Smiling.

Yeah, yeah, okay, really it's more of grin. And it's at her expense... but hello! There is definite lip tilting action going on here! And even though she's still limping around like Cid after hitting the sauce and her foot is throbbing something fierce, Yuffie is suddenly smiling back so hard she's afraid her face might split apart and she knows – somehow she just knows- that if the ground were to open up and swallow her whole right this very second, she'd die happy.

Except then it does.

Yuffie wakes up with a start and the intense need to pester someone.

(Ninja Heir. Materia Hunter. Brat. Hero.)

Leon is in the study, hunched over a terminal. His long hair falling loose down his back, a slight frown tugging at his lips. His overall air is simply screaming: Don't bother me.

Which is totally perfect.

She creeps up behind him, claps him on the shoulder and revels in his incredulous stare, "sup, Vinnie?"

And then they pause to gawk at each other, both wondering where the words had come from.

(Locked Heart. Open Heart. Knuckle Breaker. Heaven.)

Tifa is the type who knows that nothing can ever mean everything and that everything can never mean nothing. Tifa is the type who believes things happen for a reason. She is the type who believes the most anyone can do is hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Tifa is the type who knows there is magic in the air. Tifa is the type of woman who believes in her dreams.

And that's why she has to find him. She has to tell him…she needs to tell him…

It will all be okay. If we fight. If we depend on each other. If we help each other. If we have faith. If we keep strong. If we get up after we are knocked down. If we keep living…

It will all be okay.

This is what her dreams tell her. This is why Tifa has to find him- find Cloud.

(Bodyguard. Puppet. Meteor Slayer. Leader.)

Because Tifa is the type who believes in her dreams.

(Hope Keeper. Warrior Monk. Failure. Legend.)

Auron, being dead and living, here and there, nowhere and everywhere...

Auron remembers the story.

This does not mean it makes sense.

So he continues as ever he has, as ever he will. He continues to move forward, to keep writing the story, until his footfalls beat out a clear, true, cadence that words and sense must echo.

It's all he can do. All he will do. All that can be done.

The story stretches on- and Auron welcomes it.

Pheonix Down: End.

Post Notes: Shera did contract Geo-Stigma, as recorded in "On the Way to a Smile: Case of Barret". The lyrics used for "Aria di Mezzo Carattere" are from the SNES version...I know there are a few other translations- that's just the one I like :)

Reviews, Criticism, and Flames would be most welcome.