The morning of my departure I am standing in my tent, holding my head. We really tied one on last night. There's not much to do for fun at the outpost except drink, and after I told the guys I was leaving, they insisted on an all-out party. Tim even brought out his own brand of moonshine he's been brewing. He does that every night, but this time we actually drank it. Then Tim, Graves, and George let me smooch their wives, the only three women on the outpost. Reaaaally not enough women out here. I shake my head and slap myself. The trader boat is going to be here in an hour and I need to be ready.

Truth is, there isn't much to pack. I just have a tan-brown rucksack with some stuff for hygiene and a few books and notebooks, and then I just have to take my spare clothes off the clothesline outside and I'm ready to go. Everything else, like the tent and the bed, can just be left here for the next guy to come through here looking for work. It's amazing how much of a home this place feels like with so little. I upgraded to a bed in the corner of the tent after my bedroll got so dirty I had to throw it out. Then there's the night table next to it with my gas lamp and reading glasses- hup, I need those- and in the opposite corner is my little camp stove powered by an unused Lightning materia. It's a low-grade trick used by wanderers like me. You have to be careful with it though because the materia will actually gain experience as you use the stove, and if it goes up in level you're going to overcook your grilled cheese and maybe part of your face and the tent and anybody walking by. Today I'm in my good pair of blue jeans and a striped collared unbuttoned button-down over a white shirt, because I'm trying to look nice for Cloud.

I'm not gay, I just want to make a good impression since I'll be traveling with the guy for however many months. I've never personally met him, but I saw him at the billion press conferences AVALANCHE went through after they defeated Sephiroth. That was seven years ago though. I learned a bit more about him through stories I heard from Nanaki aka Red XIII. I lived in Cosmo Canyon for three years doing stories on Nanaki, his friendship with Reeve aka Cait Sith and Nanaki's grandfather Bugenhaagen, as well as the history of Cosmo Canyon and the life of the people there. You'd think those would be the undisputed best years of my life, but somehow this place is winning out. I don't know what it is. The friends. The alcohol. The strong sexual frustration. Or maybe it's that light shining through the woods, making me believe that anything is possible.

Graves comes into the tent behind me. He hands me a small sack of materia that I had given to him for safe-keeping. "You about ready?" Graves asks.

"I guess so," I say, nodding at the tent, "I'm going to miss this place."

"Don't bother," Graves says, "we'd all be somewhere else if there was somewhere better to go."

"I'm going to the Forgotten City," I say, "You should come with me, Graves." Graves looks at me with empty eyes. Then his eyebrows pop up.

"I'll do that," Graves says, "Let me just tell my wife I won't be making any money to chase a myth in the woods." Then his eyes crinkle in the corners with a smile that glows through his silver mustache, and we share a hug.

"Thanks for everything man," I say. Graves slaps me on the back as we separate.

"I'll walk you to the boat," Graves says, and he heads outside. I take one last look at the tent, and then, reluctantly, I take out the pistol from under my pillow and put it in my rucksack. I am not a fan of weapons- at all- but there are some realities of Gaia you have to face. I shake hands with Tim and Tooky, and pack up the rest of my things. It's a brisk walk to the ocean shore. It's cloudy and the wind is blowing, which doesn't promote the long sentimental goodbye. So I hug Graves one more time at the shore and climb into the little boat with my rucksack. It's going to be a rough ride. "Hey," Graves says, pulling idly at the end of his beard, "I put an extra materia in that bag for you. It's a special one, rare to the area. It's pretty useful around here and I think it might help you."

The trader guns the motor, and the water churns around the boat. I smile at Graves. "I'm sure it will," I say, "Thanks Graves."

"Yeap," Graves says, "okay." He waves goodbye as he turns back toward the village.

"I'll come back!" I call after him as the boat pulls away. I sit down and open my rucksack, pulling out the satchel of materia and opening it by the drawstring. The new materia is at the top, a deep red with slivers of orange shining through. I'd never seen anything like it. Graves is probably upset with me for leaving to try and find what he thinks to be a phantom place that is only heard about in ghost stories around Bone Village. At the end of the day it's hard to be friends with hard men, but he must like me a bit if he gave me this. I put the satchel bag in my rucksack and pull out a hunk of cloth. Pulling back a layer, I can see the empty eyes of the golden skull staring back at me. It's valuable alright. Probably magic. Definitely dangerous. I tie the skull tight in the cloth and drop it in the ocean gliding underneath us. Gaia doesn't need anymore problems than it already has. If it were up to me, like if I was the President of ShinRa, I'd send a team all around the world for the sole purpose of getting rid of all this mystical crap.

Hours pass on the boat. I buy a raincoat off the trader to protect me from the water hurling over the side, and soon enough I can see it from under my yellow hood. The dark clouds hanging over Midgar. Seven years without Mako and still that place is rife with pollution and stressful as hell. I smoke a pack a day whenever I'm there, but I think now I'll be able to hold my ground.

I get a shuttle bus from the shore to Midgar and then from there I take a train into the new Sector 7. I'm a bit queasy walking onto the gray cobblestone, the street lamp shining through the cloudy mid-afternoon. It seems weird to me that they would rebuild after the national tragedy that was the destruction of the pillar, but it's not like the survivors of Sector 7 planned to lose their homes, and if they wanted it back the way it was they had every right. I leave the train station, walking past the new pillar and into town. There are a few teens outside, kicking a ball around and hanging out. I weave through them and stomp up the few short steps onto the porch of the Seventh Heaven bar.

I try to smooth the creases out of my clothes and fluff up the front of my hair with my fingers. Then I push through the saloon-style swinging doors into the bar. There is a beautiful pregnant woman behind the bar, wiping down the counter. She has long, shiny black hair going down to the small of her back and wears an open black leather vest over a white shirt that stretches over her baby bump. She's the fourth woman I've seen in over a year. For a second I'm tempted to ask her out on a date. Especially when she looks up at me with a warm smile.

"Hello!" she says cheerily, "sit anywhere you like." I take a seat at the bar in front of her and put my rucksack at my feet. "What'll it be?" she asks, pulling a glass from beneath the counter. I look past her to the board on the wall, which is covered with pretty writing in yellow and blue chalk. This place has definitely had a woman's touch.

"The daily special looks fine," I say. She fixes the drink. I point at her belly as she hands it to me.

"When are you due?" I ask.

"Not for another six months," she said. She gives me a small smile and a sidelong squint, her dark hair waving over her cheeks. Oh yeah, she knows she's cute. "Are you... the reporter man I've been hearing about?"

"That's me," I say, holding out a hand, "Jason."

"Pleased to meet you Jason," she shakes my hand, "I'm Tifa." Of course I know who she is. There's no civilized person on Gaia who doesn't know the names and faces of every AVALANCHE member. I take a sip of my drink.

"So is Cloud around?" I say. Tifa winces, crinkling her nose and sucking air through her teeth.

"Weeelllllll," she says, breaking into a laugh. I shake my head.

"That guy's a hard man to reach, isn't he?" I say.

"Yeah," Tifa says, followed by a long low giggle that leans her over the bar, "Yeeahhhh, I think he just likes being difficult." I smile at her and look around the bar. I wish single girls were this nice. If I want to avoid flirting with her I'm going to have to find some entertainment while I wait for this (allegedly) reluctant hero of the free world. I see some posters of favorite movies, some tables and chairs, and then I spy the pinball machine.

"Oh snap," I point at the machine, "mind if I play?"

"Oh," she rolls her eyes and waves her hand as she takes my half-finished glass, "it's broken."

"I bet I could fix it," I get up and head over to the machine.

"No really," Tifa says, "we have people coming to fix it on Wednesday, I..."

She stops, turning with a surprised smile towards the front of the shop as the dull roar of a motorcycle rises through the air. I stop in my tracks too, my eyes trying to bore a hole through the wall to the motorcycle outside, where the rider must be parking. I hear the creak of the motorcycle stand over the steady putter of the engine, and then the engine shuts off.