Author's Notes: Interlude/flashback/dream. I feel like that's more obvious when you're reading the whole story in one file, because the italics set these sections off from the rest, but when the whole chapter is written that way, I guess it helps to point it out.

Physics and I were not on speaking terms for this chapter. Frankly, I don't think Final Fantasy and physics are on speaking terms anyway, but I wanted to acknowledge the lack here, before I get comments about how you don't get fresh air on top of a building in a burning town. People don't leap from the ground to the tops of buildings, either, or spend five minutes fighting in mid-air while falling or leaping from wall to wall. It's a story set in a fantasy world, so I'm allowing myself some leeway where facts are concerned.

If you haven't read chapters 1 and 2, please do so. They're much better than this one—this was written to fill in some background information for later/overall. I wouldn't recommend skipping it, but I wouldn't suggest reading it first or alone, either.

Kalm was burning. Sights and smells and sounds that no-one should have to experience once, let alone often enough to become familiar with them, swept around Si'ara as she moved through the town, searching for survivors. Above, she heard the sounds of gunfire, Vincent pursuing the mysterious forces that had attacked the town, their purpose as yet unknown, the only hint an announcement called down from the helicopters circling above that had proclaimed Vincent the reason for the attack.

That accusation bothered Si'ara almost as much as the carnage surrounding her. It was the sort of thing Vincent would take very personally, and she hated to see him accepting any more of a burden on his soul than he already claimed. In spite of his intimidating appearance and his redoubtable skills as a warrior, he was one of the gentlest people Si'ara knew. It was one of the many reasons she loved him.

Her mind drifted to that subject as she hurried through the burning streets. She'd never hidden her feelings for the former Turk, on whom Shin-Ra's scientists had performed unspeakable experiments before locking him away for decades in a hidden coffin. But it had never been a secret either that her feelings were not returned—Vincent still loved another woman, one who had never returned his affections. It was a bitter chain of unrequited love, and oddly, united by their understanding of the sorrow each suffered, they'd become friends.

The journey with the others in search of Sephiroth had made them close. At first, he had avoided her, recognizing the feelings she had for him, and knowing that he would not return them. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, or to make things uncomfortable among the group. But once he realized that she accepted him as he was, love for Lucrecia and all, he had grown to respect her and to see the similarities in their situations. He was the one who watched over her, who kept her from acting impulsively, taught her to look ahead and see the consequences of her actions.

And when he learned that Cloud had left her yet again, and that she had sold her bar-sick of memories and old ghosts-he came and found her sitting in the run-down apartment she had rented, wallowing in apathy and self-loathing . He had carried her away from the city, had taken her to Costa Del Sol, and had bought an empty bar, insisting that she run it for him. Only when she started filing papers, getting the office in order, did she realize that he'd put it in her name.

An explosion to the north of her jerked her out of her reverie, heralding as it did a rain of debris-shards of metal, wood, and stone crashing down around her, spreading the fire to areas it had not yet reached. A scream caught her ear from within the building she was passing, and she ducked inside, trusting that Vincent would hear as well, and wait for her return.

The interior of the building was lit only by chunks of burning wood and the fires raging outside. The scream was not repeated, but a muffled sob led Si'ara to its source, a small child crouched beneath the remains of a marble tabletop. Si'ara dropped to her knees and reached for her, pulling her from her shelter against her wishes. Wrapping her cloak around the struggling figure, she saw the reason for the child's reluctance-a still form, flames licking at the dress in which it was clothed, lay nearby in a partially-collapsed doorway, arms stretched toward the broken table. It was apparent to Si'ara that she had fallen while trying to flee, the child tumbling from her arms and finding temporary refuge under the sheet of stone.

Sickened, she hurried from the building. A flash of muzzle fire and a brief glimpse of scarlet swirling above assured her that Vincent was near. Si'ara rushed through the streets as the flames closed in, gagging on the stench of burning flesh and acrid smoke, grateful for the materia in the bracer Vincent had loaned her that allowed her to withstand the heat. Burning bodies littered the street here-it was far enough away from the initial attack that the townspeople had had time to escape their homes, but not far enough for them to make it much farther.

There was silence now from above; the only sound reaching her ears was the roar of flames. Rounding a corner, she was met by a wall of fire, and checked abruptly, trying to remember the last turnoff that had looked clear.

"Climb." She jumped, and turned to face the dark-haired gunman behind her, startled by his unexpected proximity. "We are near the edge of the city. I will seek a safe path, but there isn't time to take you with me." He took the child from her arms and leaped to a nearby balcony, gesturing at the staircase that connected it to the street below, and to another balcony above.

Si'ara climbed, her cloak drawn across her face to keep out the smoke rising all around her. She wondered at Vincent's logic until she reached the top of the building. Higher than most around it, its top levels had not yet been reached by the fires. More importantly, the heat of the inferno raging in the centre of the city created a wind, pulling cooler air from the east past the tower, allowing her to breathe more freely.

She took the now-silent child from him, and watched him vanish in a swirl of crimson. Looking around, she could see the answer before he returned. There was no clear path. The town was a deathtrap-flames licked from building to building, filling the streets. The heat was sweeping around her in sheets by the time he arrived an eternity later.

She saw the confirmation of her fears in his eyes before he spoke. "I can find no safe path to the ground, no way to escape on foot." Fury burned in his eyes, rage at having been named the cause of this attack, frustration at his inability to save her. He would survive the tragedy in one form or another-death was a refuge denied him. But there was no way to get her or the child out of the city, no escape except the one their attackers had taken, by air. And even Vincent couldn't fly.

Si'ara nodded, and buried her face briefly in the child's hair, silently cursing the fates that had allowed her the illusion of saving a life, only to leave her stranded here, watching as the child's hope faded with her own. Vincent stroked her cheek gently, and drew her into his arms. "Si'ara, I'm sorry," he whispered, and she could hear the anger in his voice. He stroked her hair gently with his gauntleted hand. "Relax. Let me think."

She slipped one arm around him, the other holding the child to her side, and tried to do as he asked, but he stiffened suddenly. She looked up at him, startled by the change in his demeanor, and watched as he raised Cerberus, his eyes narrowed as he sighted on something she couldn't yet see. A sound reached her ear then, the distinct reverberation of helicopter rotors.

"They're coming back?"

He canted his head to one side, listening. "They're here for a reason, and a vital one," he said softly. "No pilot would lightly make the attempt to fly through the updrafts and winds surrounding a conflagration this large." She saw his finger tighten slightly on the revolver's trigger, then his eyes narrowed slightly, and he lowered the point of the gun.

Si'ara frowned, puzzled by his actions, having expected him to try to take out the pilot or hijack the helicopter for their escape. Before she could question him, however, the aircraft in question came into view, dark green where she had expected black, a ShinRa logo on the side.

"Who would…" She trailed off, unable to imagine a typical ShinRa pilot trying to fight their way to the tower under these conditions, unwilling to believe the most likely answer.

A flash of crimson hair and a cocky grin met her gaze, however, as the helicopter circled lower, buffeted by the winds, but holding comparatively steady. A cable ladder swept past her, the Turk Rude barely visible where he had dropped it from the doorway of the craft. Vincent caught it, grabbing her hand and pulling it through a rung, making sure she was able to step onto another safely with the child in her arms, then letting the ladder slip through his hands before he pulled himself on behind her.

A winch drew the ladder up as Vincent steadied them, and the helicopter swept to the east, escaping the deadly firestorm that had once been Kalm.

"You looked like you could use a lift." The voice coming from the cockpit was brash and cocky, everything she remembered, but under the circumstances, remarkably welcome. "Mind telling us what's going on, yo?"