Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII, Chrono Trigger, Chrono Cross, and their characters, places, and situations are (C) copyright Square Enix. They are reproduced here for non-commercial entertainment. All other material is mine.
Schala—The Lifestream
My eyes filled with pinpricks of green. I gazed up at darkness that could have been a sky, if not for lights swirling like bubbles.
Someone knelt beside me. I twisted my head with painful slowness. A smeary haze of light surrounded my visitor, a blob of brown and peach and pink and red.
"Hello there," said a gentle voice.
"Am I dead?" I croaked.
"No," she said with a bit of a laugh. "Why, were you trying to be?"
I shut my eyes and sighed into the surface beneath me. "I don't know. Maybe."
"Not today, I think. Why did you come here?" she said.
"I don't even know where I am."
"The Lifestream. Gaia. You're… not from this world."
I shook my head. I gave up and opened my eyes again. As I struggled to sit up she reached down to help me, more clearly in focus. We stood on a dark tiny island of indistinct land in a sea of black dotted with green fireflies. I cast my gaze around. An alien tree behind me swayed in a breeze I didn't feel. This wasn't the first planet the portals through time and space called Gates had brought me to, but it was by far the most boring-looking.
"What are your intentions here, on this planet?"
I looked up at her spiraling hair, her mild smile and green eyes. She seemed kind, but I'd been taken in before, and my surroundings were too eerie for me to feel truly comfortable.
"A fresh start," I said, "or a place to die."
"Which would you prefer?" she said.
I looked away across the darkness. It didn't look promising for either prospect. "I don't know."
"You could help this world, you know."
I laughed sharply. "I can't help anyone." Light surged in front of me, and now I saw through a watery distortion a beach. A man with black hair nestled under a red bandanna stood there, back to me, looking out to the ocean.
I hissed. The memory looked like it was really happening. Unbidden, I reached for it. As I did, it changed from the beginning of the dream to its end—the man lying wasted in bed, face grey, struggling to hold my hand as I bent over him, despairing of my powerlessness.
"Stop this!" I snarled.
"It's not me that's doing it," she said, beside me. "It's your memory. The Lifestream merely shows what you have inside you."
"This is past. Moreover, it now never happened." My stomach lurched as the scene reacted.
I saw myself running through the trees, toward the sound of his laughter, pulling up short and grabbing a tree for support. Watching in shock as another Schala reached him first, swung up in his arms, kissing him. A Schala who hadn't watched him die and then sought a way to change the past so he would live again. Horrifying, unending seconds as I realized I had become orphaned, extraneous, the child of a timeline that no longer existed.
No matter how many Time Gates I sought after that, there was a Schala for every Serge I found. I belonged nowhere, no place, no life, no identity, no continuity. After losing everything but my life, I'd grown reckless with that as well.
I squirmed in shame as my past unfolded in painful vignettes in front of this total stranger. Including the pain and suffering that had come at my hands while I languished endlessly in the grip of the monster who used me to tried to destroy my world, the Time Devourer. I sighed, resigned, and turned to her. "What power I once had is long gone. I can't help you."
"Well, with a little help, you could," she said, undeterred to my shock. "There's a sickness in the world above I can't yet do anything about while I work to heal the planet's sickness, but if you agreed to it, you could wield the power to heal."
I felt cold. I narrowed my eyes at her. "Who are you?" …And where were you at the point in my life when that power could have saved my love? I added to myself.
"I'm Aerith," she said. "And you?"
"Schala," I said.
"I can't change the past, bring back what you lost—but there are people up above losing those they love. I know it's not the same, but… you could help them," she said.
So mild and reasonable were her words I grew suspicious. Is she manipulating me? I could remember a time when I'd possessed power over Time Gates and had pushed the heroes of my world through them to defeat its biggest threat. Perhaps turnabout is fair play, I thought. And, really, what else am I going to do?
I realized then that this Lifestream of hers had helpfully illustrated my thoughts with my memories behind me for her to see.
"What do I do?" I said.
Even before I finished speaking she whirled around and looked up. Even blacker darkness was swallowing up the little flitting lights, growing, pulsing down toward us. I stiffened. Aerith whirled and ran toward me, the light around her blinding me as she approached. I threw up my arms as I dropped into a protective crouch before the approaching powerful forces.
Pain hit me. I jarred out of consciousness.
I crawled up a new beach, this time under bright daylight. Every grain of sand hurt. Even the sun burned on the salt water and scratched skin. I had to pause frequently to rest. I drifted in and out of a haze like the worst drug trip in the world. I'd had more than a few, since grief set me adrift.
The waves tugged at me, sirens or mermaids come to sweetly drown me. I wanted to let them. I felt burned out and not particularly sanguine about that Aerith girl's plan. She seemed like a hallucination now, or a fever dream.
If I'd been prone to giving up when the fight was over I'd be dead, many times over. Sometimes I had nothing but anger at monstrous fate to keep me from crawling in a cave to die. I dragged along the wet, sticky ground until I got to burning hot dry piles. I lay on my back and stared at the bleached-out sky.
Serge… I thought, without meaning to.
I felt uncomfortable, a broken doll flopped on the beach. Boiling blood seeped through me, and curiously as I let it, I felt better. Something felt cool beneath the surface of me, chilling me in the hot sun. I shivered. Renewed life eased me to sleep.
I woke in a clearing with no memory of what had happened to the beach. I heard what may have been the ocean or may have been the wind that ruffled through the bent tops of trees high overhead. All my clothes were in a heap on a rock in the sun. Moss molded around my prone, naked, somehow clean and painless body. I sat up, and as I did green light flickered over my skin.
I got up and got dressed, my cheeks hot, glad no one was around. Time to figure out where I was.
Reno—Costa del Sol
It's hard work, being me.
I mean, obviously it's worth it. I'm worth it. I'm good, very good. I wasn't made this way. I worked hard to get where I am.
Second in command of the Turks, under the director. Deputy Director Reno, when he's at home. I'd never tell Tseng that, though. And I'd have to be really drunk to even tell my best friend, co-worker and subordinate Rude. I think he'd be offended, and give me that constipated you-stepped-on-my-glasses twisted-mouth look.
Look, I'm good. I never said I was perfect. Everyone's got problems.
But not that day. That day I was catching rays, and sneaking peeks at the bombshell blond bathing beauties around me. I told myself I was shopping for who I was going to pick up at the inn's bar that night.
When was the last time you did that? I heard myself say.
My inner voice is smarmier than my outer one, and even harder to shut up, if you can believe that. Sometimes I can't even drown it out in my head.
It had been a long couple of years. I hadn't had a vacation since Wutai, wrapped up in all the business with Sephiroth and Meteor. Come to think of it, that wasn't really a vacation, either. I had to rescue Elena. And the Wutai brat. Eh, what are you gonna do? That's the price you pay for being awesome, right?
I felt mildly disturbed by the realization that, like my last vacation, I couldn't remember when I'd had my last woman, either. Since Meteor, the president and the director had worked us pretty damn hard to coordinate shit for building Edge around the ruins of Midgar. We'd been working with the science division to shut down Mako reactors all over the world and find alternative fuels, mostly to pay for all this.
Every night I fell into a different bed, exhausted, and there were never girls in them anymore. And I was so tired I hadn't noticed.Fuck. I have to remedy this, immediately.
When I slitted my eyes again to scan I realized the beach was empty. I sat up, alarmed. How long have I been drowsing? Then I saw the reason: a couple of beach bums had appeared, and they were clearly very sick. I watched in sympathy and disgust as one of them had a fit right there, leaking black sludge into the sand. I propped on my hands. Unlike the other vacationers who fled, I wasn't afraid. There's nothing I can't defend myself against.
It's why I'm still alive, damn it. Survival of the angriest. Deputy Director Reno of the Turks. We get the job done. No excuses.
Law enforcement had arrived, jumped-up security from the beach resorts, and they were having a very guarded confrontation with the sick men. I rolled up to my feet and strode over.
"What seems to be the trouble?" I said laconically, tucking my thumbs in my red bathing suit.
The largest of the four guards turned and sized me up. I flashed him my teeth.
"Remember me? Reno of the Turks?" I said, a little louder. This got all their attention on me.
"Oh… yes, of course…" The plumpish dark-haired woman who seemed to be heading up this detail spread her hands in supplication. "Sorry about this, sir, we're having trouble with some of the local transients. We'll get them out of the area as soon as possible."
"If you need any help…" I said, and then realized why I couldn't remember my last vacation. Even when I was off the clock, I slept with one ear open for an opportunity or job.
I mentally cursed myself. I'm pretty vivid when I get angry, although that Barrett and Cid from AVALANCHE have me beat for frequency of swearing. I pride myself on my verbal control. Right word at the right time in the right place, you administer a takedown to your enemy's morale to end the fight before it starts. Or jazz up a really lame fight with someone improperly motivated.
"No, sir, we have the situation well in hand." None of them stood too near the wretchedly ill.
Something moved out of the corner of my eye and I whirled, my arm coming up. If I hadn't left my Electro-Mag Rod under my beach blanket I would have clocked the little sneak in the face. She ducked anyway and darted forward, crouched by the man gasping and rolling in the sand.
I pivoted, frowning, keeping my stance sunk where it had gone when she appeared out of nowhere. The coastal wind had been playing merry hell with my hair and my ears. Otherwise no one should have been able to sneak up on me. At first I thought the chick with bright blue hair knelt with them in solidarity. She wore too many clothes for the beach, and I thought she was covering up some Geostigma patch as well.
She reached for them. You'd have to be sick yourself to touch someone dripping black ooze.
Even in the blinding light I saw a green glow gather at her fingertips. I didn't see a weapon or bracer clogged with materia so I don't know where the magic flowed from. All I know is when it touched the guy, spindles of fine green thread encircled him.
I realized it looked very like the Lifestream pouring out of the ground and smashing through the window of Shinra Headquarters two years ago. My memory flashed helpfully back to that vivid, often-recalled day. I held my breath.
Miss Overdressed-for-the-weather in a purple dress reached out her other hand to the second person, who recoiled, looking in alarm at her fellow tramp to see what was happening. The security force looked on in equal silence. I don't think any of us knew what we were looking at, not until it was over, and even then it was difficult to comprehend.
The first bum was rising off the ground, pulling off clothes to examine now-clean arms. The second bum, seeing this, lunged and grabbed the blue-haired girl, who gasped. Green flowed out of her hands into the other poor soul. When the Geostigma signs had melted from stooge number two, the latter yanked her hands back with a whoop and went cartwheeling down the beach. As the first bum chased her, their savior dropped to her knees, head bending.
"Hey!" I said, kneeling down in the hot sand beside her. "You okay?"
She nodded, but didn't lift her head. And then, contrary to her gesture, she fully collapsed in the sand.
"H-hey!" I said. Maybe she does have Geostigma after all… I swallowed my consternation and reached for her.
Schala—Costa Del Sol
A hiss of pain woke me. I opened my eyes to cool darkness, a stark contrast to the blinding beach I'd last seen flying up at my face. I lay on a bed, of all things. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had the pleasure of waking up on an appropriate surface. Another sucking in of breath drew my eyes to the source.
A man with a dramatic mullet so shockingly red it glowed bright even in the dim room was twisting his pale nearly-naked body round, eyes locked to a mirror on the wall. He wore a wince on rather delicate and fine features. As my eyes adjusted to the light I saw his skin was a pinker version of the color on his head.
I felt sympathetic minty coolness rise in me at the sight. I sat up and the bed creaked under me. The man's head whipped round, epic ponytail flying while his spiky hair on top stayed put, held there by a pair of sunglasses. It reminded me of another redhead I once knew, a memory like a bleached-out photograph that faded almost as it occurred to me.
"What's your secret?" he said abruptly. "You're just as pale-skinned as I am. Was. How come you didn't burn?"
I shrugged, arms draped over my knees, then swung my legs off the bed and stood. I crossed the room toward him. His long, lithe body wasn't as scrawny as it first appeared, just incredibly lean. He was toned everywhere with well-defined muscle groups, not an inch of him wasted. I felt a little more intimidated, closer up. I held out my hand.
"I'm Schala," I said. "Thanks for bringing me here."
He glanced down at my skin with a thoughtful scowl, then hesitantly reached out his own hand.
"Reno," he said. "Of the Turks."
As soon as our hands connected the coolness poured out of me, green lighting up his features and the room. He looked down, lips parted in shock. I did as well to watch the spindly threads weaving around him. A power I once would have given all of myself to possess, the power to heal.
They netted his whole body, and when the light faded he looked pale as a ghost. Except for that hair, and the matching shiny red briefs.
His eyes flicked up. "How do you… do that? What magic is that? Even mastered Heal or Cure doesn't fix sunburn, and definitely not Geostigma."
I released his hand, putting mine together behind my back.
"You… remind me of someone," he said before I could answer, cocking his head at me. "What's your last name?"
"Zeal," I said.
"Hmm." He eyed me. I felt uncomfortably aware I was alone with a vain straight man in his hotel room. I backed toward the door.
"Nice to meet you, Reno of the Turks, but I've got to be…" I gasped. I'd never seen anyone move that fast. He slammed his hand into the door to hold it shut and block my escape. I skittered further back from him, toward the window.
"We're on the third floor," he said. "I wouldn't advise it, even if you do have miracle healing magic."
"I've repaid your kindness," I said. "I didn't ask for your help and I don't owe you sex, and if you try it I'll make you wish you'd never been born."
His eyebrows bounced up on his forehead. "Look, lady, I'm not…" He leaned heavily into the door with a sigh. "I'm not a rapist, okay? Shinra and the Turks have a lot to answer for, but we have some integrity. We don't allow that kind of stuff in our organization. I just want to talk with you about that Heal magic."
"I don't have many answers about it. It's something I can do, that's all. What's so wrong about helping the sick and injured? I helped out at a clinic, and they were grateful without needing to know how or why."
"How many people with the stigma have you healed? And do you always pass out like that?"
"I didn't count. More than two. And no, I don't, but I ran out of money to buy food."
His brows drew together in confusion. "Why don't you charge for your services?"
"Most of the people I help don't have any money either."
"…Right. Realized that as soon as I asked. Sorry." He exhaled sharply through his nose. "I'll get dressed and buy you dinner at the bar downstairs. How does that sound?"
I hesitated, shifting from foot to foot. "I don't know. What do you want from me?"
"Just a conversation!" He held up his hands. "Jeez, I try to be nice and get you to a cool dark room and this is the thanks I get?"
"Sorry, but I can't be too careful about my safety. My experience lately is that people aren't usually nice to me without expecting something I don't want to give them in return, and their entitlement frequently turns into belligerent pressure and outright force."
He rolled his eyes with an expressive groan. "If I'd wanted to do anything to you, why would I have waited until you were awake?"
I scowled at him. "I don't hang around to ask my attackers why they do what they do when they do it."
He backed off, putting his hands up. "Yeah, okay. I'll put clothes on, all right? Will that make you feel better?"
I couldn't stop myself looking him over one more time, but nodded. He flashed a saucy grin at me and sauntered over to a dresser piled with black and white piles of fabric.
"You know, Shinra's been looking everywhere for some cure for Geostigma," he said, stepping into long black slacks with grace and easy balance. "Haven't heard of you."
"I just got here. I was in Mideel for the past two weeks. The hospital sent me to the mainland when the island was rid of Geostigma."
"What about before that?" He buttoned up his white dress shirt with nimble fingers, glancing over his shoulder at me.
I shrugged. "I washed up on the beach."
His hand was in the act of landing on the remaining pile of black on the dresser. It stayed there as concerned confusion reappeared on those aquiline features. "You mean… you washed outta the Lifestream?"
"That's what they thought at the clinic. I honestly don't remember."
"Huh." He shook out a black zippered suit jacket and shrugged into it, leaving his shirt untucked. He bent to pick up his shoes and socks. I watched, fascinated, as he balanced perfectly first on one leg, then the other, to put on his shoes. The balance and musculature seemed to suggest him a fighter, and a damn agile one. I felt appreciative and apprehensive at his too-casual display.
He turned to me and gestured to the door, smirking. "Shall we?" He clearly knew just how good he was and how he looked, which I didn't like. Confident men often don't ask before taking, secure in their entitlement. I beat him to the door, but didn't want my back to him, so in the hall I turned and waited for him to precede me to the stairs.
He hopped down them two at a time, long ponytail lashing on his back. "Barkeep! Table for two!" he called, holding up a pair of fingers as he reached the open main floor.
"Anywhere you like, sir," said the barkeeper, gesturing to the nearly-empty room under thick-bladed spinning fans. A few diehards nursed at the bar.
Reno pulled a chair out for me, but I took the other one, pretending not to see. He looked disappointed. He sank into the seat across, draping himself over the back, legs splayed as he lounged. I remained sitting upright, leaned into the back of my chair, eyeing him. I envied his ease and lack of tension with his environment.
I glanced at the chalkboard menu to pick out my choice by the time the barmaid arrived to take our order. Reno ordered a daquiri. I ordered water.
"Oh, come on!" he said. "You're in Costa Del Sol! At least a piña colada."
I shook my head as the barmaid left.
"No alcohol? Where's the fun in that?" he said.
I shrugged. I wasn't looking for fun, and clearly he never stopped.
He sighed. "All right. I wouldn't trust me either if I were a pretty girl like you." He straightened up a little. "Listen, I know someone with Geostigma. If you help him out, he can return the favor."
I scowled. "I don't mind helping him, but I don't need any help."
"Oh?" He arched an eyebrow at me. "I heard you're broke. We can help with that."
"You said yourself you wouldn't trust you if you were me. So why should I?"
"'Cause this is different. This is business. I'm a Turk. Shinra may not be as powerful as it once was but we still have connections. Not to mention money. Whatever you want, we can make it happen, or find someone who can."
"I want to fix Geostigma. That's all. I don't need your help, or Shinra's, or anyone else's."
"Geostigma's a worldwide problem."
"So I've been told."
"Got transportation?"
"I'll find my way. I've come this far."
Reno shook his head slowly. "Do you realize how long it'll take you? How much ground you'll have to cover? How many people will suffer and die while you're slogging away? We want to fix Geostigma as much as you do, I promise you. We want this world to be better, to atone for our crimes. You may not have much reason to love Shinra, and you're right to be apprehensive, but don't sacrifice others' lives 'cause you're too proud to accept our help."
"And in return, what am I supposed to do?"
"Just heal people, like you want to. We've all been looking for a cure. And you appear to be it. Come on—we've got airships and helicopters and ships and more chocobos than you'd ever care to shake a stick at. You won't have to worry about money or transport."
I peered at him, frowning.
"If you change your mind, you can always ditch us and make your own way, like you planned. What's there to lose?"
Safety, I thought. Maybe integrity. "We'll see," I said aloud.
He grinned. "Is that a yes?"
"For now."
His grin widened, looking almost feline. "You're a hard sell! You won't regret it, I promise." He shoved his hands behind his head. The food and drinks arrived, so I was spared further conversation as he wolfed down his food and I chewed mine. He kept snatching uncomfortably keen glances at me.
My heart felt anxious. I hoped I wouldn't regret this.