Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy.

Reasons behind the late update: I had a fever. I discovered and watched all the episodes of the anime Gungrave. I watched half the episodes of the anime Wolf's Rain. I read a fantasy novel called Graceling. I started reading a fantasy series called Pellinor (the first book is called The Gift). And I have school. And I desperately want to buy a fantasy novel called The Blade Itself.

Overpowering Her Mask

Paige knew his wounds were healing. She was absolutely sure of it, even though elf-man hadn't let her have a look yet. Even though she hadn't really studied his wounds at all – since the beginning, she had only seen the blood and the external parts of his injuries.

Then how could she be so devastatingly certain he was feeling better?

Because just recently, he had started giving her a generous share of deathly stares. Each time he glared at her he looked stronger, healthier. No, not exactly healthier. He still had a fever that refused to let go of him. Paige was beginning to think that the fever would last until his wounds healed completely. And with his recent glares, even John Smoth (her parrot) had grown abnormally quiet.

Needless to say, although she felt like a porky pig facing a brawny bear, she kept her face stony and icy and bored and expressionless to the best of her ability.

Sephiroth was content.

He had come up with a simple plan that would hopefully not take much time – a plan that would serve him well if it worked. And it would work. In all simplicity, his intention was to break her mask – to make Paige show him whatever it was she was keeping behind her reined face. For he despised how she resisted showing fear. That was the source and the gist of his annoyance.

Her mask.

Now he would find out what it took to break it.

The following days were very trying and very weird for Paige.

First, when she was going to learn karate at Solomon's father's house, Sephiroth came along. He didn't join her inside, but waited with her at the gate until Solomon's father came outside and invited her in. She had a hunch Sephiroth was there because he wanted to see her beg Solomon's father to become her teacher. She didn't have to beg, though, thanks to Solomon. He had convinced his father rather thoroughly, it would appear, so he already looked at her as his student. Her win.

The same day, after her first (and very tough) karate lesson, Sephiroth asked questions about martial arts (about moves and her teacher and his son and how embarrassingly exhausted she was). It felt like he was trying to make her feel uncomfortable. To tell the truth, he did a good job. His win. Most of the questions were too complicated for her to answer: about karate ranks, names of different moves, or whatever Solomon must have said to make his father agree to become her teacher, or what Solomon's father thought about training a person who was not only a girl, but also a girl with anemia and no enthusiasm showing on her face whatsoever.

Once she started going to work again, he appeared there as well. Her summer job was at a home for elderly. Whenever she glanced out a window, he was there, and each time she almost choked on her tongue. After a while she only looked at the floor straight in front of her feet in order to avoid Sephiroth's stares (he was probably there to make sure she didn't tell one of the nurses or the elderly about him, his presence or anything else that could lead Chinba or Shanri or Shinra or whatever his way).

At home it was even worse. One day John Smoth went missing from his T-shaped wooden stand. Only a few feathers were left. Sephiroth claimed that although he didn't know where Paige had hidden his Masamune, a kitchen knife had done the trick with the overly annoying bird. He'd said so while flashing a dark smirk. If it hadn't been for the fact that John Smoth screeched "Whadda beautiful day ta be free!" from behind the sofa, she'd have peed her pants with fear.

To add to that, Sephiroth would occasionally offer displeased comments about the clothes she lent him (usually her father's left-behind or never-used clothes), or he would shock her half the way to Mexico with a nice remark about her food. He would say anything, she felt, as long as his words could throw her off. Time and time again, he surprised her, and time and time again, she had to reinforce her mask. She even had to remind herself why she insisted to keep her face like that. It was a habit, yes, but it was also to keep herself from letting down her guard. Keeping her face in check was a reminder of who Sephiroth was (or might be) and what he could do.

Paige held a number of bed sheets in her arms, under her arms and over her shoulders, and even more sheets pooled around her feet. She had unearthed it all from an old closet because they smelled rather old. Washing them couldn't hurt. While holding it all in her arms, she was trying to remove the bed sheets from her own bed too – in a poor attempt to be as effective as possible. She must look ridiculous.

Of course, looking as ridiculous as she did was like an open invitation to Sephiroth, who had recently tried to frighten her to death on a number of occasions.

He was standing in the doorway to her room now, all quiet. She could hardly see him through all the bed sheets. She couldn't even see her own feet. Walking around might be a bad idea.

"Um," she managed, her voice muffled. Would asking for help be a bad idea? He'd bothered her a lot lately, so it was only right that he should do something small in return, right?

"Could you hold some of this?" she asked, her voice quiet and strained as she turned to him slowly. The bedclothes at her feet wrapped around her feet, but she stayed on her legs easily. She reached out to hand some of the linen to Sephiroth, who slowly extended his arms and grabbed some of it.

"Watch it," she warned as a few bed sheets fell to their feet. Then she looked up into his face. Tiny beads of perspiration rested on his forehead.

...Fever? He still has a fever? Paige stared, forcing exaggerated calmness upon her face.

This caused Sephiroth to frown, and in simple spite, he leaned forward to return the linen she had handed him. She automatically stepped back to avoid him, but got caught up in the sheets at her feet. For a short moment, Sephiroth looked like he was about to grab her and stop her from falling. Then, as she fell and he followed, the imminent truth of what was about to happen hit her, and she panicked. She let go of all the bedclothes, but it was already too late. Very soon she felt her head and back hit the linen-covered floor, and in no time after that, Sephiroth landed atop her. The bed sheets she had thrown into the air a second ago were either in between them or on top of Sephiroth.

He was on top of her.

She was breathless.

Personal space invasion alert.

She couldn't breathe.

He wasn't moving away.

Too close, he was too close – pinning her to the covered floor with his weight – and there was too little distance between their faces. Her icy eyes were wide open and her eyebrows were curling and her mouth wasn't shut – she was trembling and her hands were grasping the floor and the sheets beside her. Her heart was screaming and grappling inside her, fighting and pushing relentlessly and uselessly.

Then he pulled back only enough to see her face.

When he saw her expression, his face broke into a fierce smirk that must look more evil than any expression he'd showed her so far. His satisfaction coursed through him at her vivid expression.

Her mask was completely broken, and she was trembling. Now, all that her face displayed was raw emotions – her expression was a mirror into her mind, her thoughts, and revealed everything she had stubbornly locked away from him until this moment. What made her mask break was no doubt physical contact. After this, however, she would most definitely reinforce her mask, her protective wall.

As seconds turned into a full minute, he found himself amused that even now she couldn't muster the strength to force her mask back on her face.

To think she could display such a strong, vivid expression.

...Such large, ice blue, terrorized eyes.

Suddenly Sephiroth's smirk disappeared and a shadow crossed his eyes. Paige didn't tremble any longer – she was feeling too faint to do a thing.

He pulled away and stopped when he sat on his knees. Bed sheets fell from his back to the floor. Realizing that she hadn't breathed since she hit the floor, she inhaled sharply and scrambled to her knees and away from the elfish man before her. Then she started trembling again. Not sure her face could settle into a calm expression, she turned away from the silver-haired man and hoped her pale hair would hide her face a little.

Now, frustration and embarrassment took the place of fear. But what could she say to him?

"...That was not what I intended." His voice was quiet. Enough so that she glanced at him through her hair, holding back a frown. Perhaps he was talking to himself, or maybe it was the fever talking.

After all, what she heard was almost an apology.

She said nothing in return. After a while of sitting in silence, though, she gathered herself and sent him the coldest, stoniest, most disgusted and bored and uninterested face she could muster. Truth be told, she expected him to scowl back, or perhaps even threaten her verbally, but he just scoffed at her. Mocked her. Then he got up, stepped out of the tangled bedclothes and left her room.

Relaxing only a little, she let go of the breath she had no idea she'd been holding, then realized her heart was still hammering like a hummingbird on crack. In comparison, everything else in her body felt like oozing pudding or jelly or microwaved marshmallows.

Why did he do that?

He didn't fall on top of her on purpose as far as she knew, but afterwards he'd looked all serious and calm and collected and elfish and he'd said he never intended to fall on top of her or frighten her. Why couldn't he just be scary all the time, so that she knew how to act around him, and so that she didn't have to be shocked every time he did something remotely kind in an indirect way? Why did his touch still linger in her mind? Elf magic? He'd paralyzed her? Given her mind some sort of elf virus?

Before now, he had only seen that indifferent mask of hers – that cold, collected face. It had came to annoy him, and he had grown sick of it.

The days that followed the bed sheet incident, however, were different. Paige's face was colder and more distant than before by far, and she made sure there was several yards between them at all times. That didn't surprise him, nor bother him. He was fine with it, in fact.

Now all his mind seemed to remember when he looked at Paige, was the terrorized face she had unwillingly shown him. Thus, instead of being annoyed when Paige showed him her calm mask, he was also annoyed when he recalled her expression, simply because it looked so strong. In other words, her face, no matter what it expressed or didn't express, vexed him.

He no longer even looked at her. This decision was seemingly fine by her.

Standing in the large, dark monitoring room, studying radars and maps while waiting for results, stood professor Hojo. A few others were with him – pretending that they were working – but he paid them no heed.

There had been complications.

The remnants Shinra had sent out to trace and find Sephiroth were having trouble. In this modern age, things such as country and state borders meant nothing to them. Something that simple had gotten nearly every one of the remnants caught by the police or others. At the time being, all Shinra knew was that Sephiroth was in the northern hemisphere – either in the United States or even farther north. All the remnants had been on their way north, or towards the northern part of America.

In any case, despite all the setbacks with the otherwise useless remnants, Shinra was ready to go to Sephiroth the moment they found his location. The questions now were whether he was alive or not (personally, for Hojo the latter was not even an option), and what to do about him once they found him.

If he was still injured, that would certainly help.

As more days passed, Paige calmed down. Sephiroth seemed better. She still made sure there was plenty of space between them, though, in a slightly (or not so slightly) paranoid attempt to keep herself safe. Anybody would do it with a muscular guy like that around.

Admittedly, he didn't look too dangerous wearing black Puma pants and a white t-shirt, but a half glance in the vague general direction of the air around his face revealed that he was still evil. That's what it seemed like to her, anyway, when she looked at him.

Even so, recently the mood had been more... easy-going. Or at least not as hostile and evil. Even John Smoth relaxed.

"Damn, it feels good ta be a gangsta'," he squeaked quietly while looking at Sephiroth, who watched the news on tv. When the silver-haired man didn't react, John Smoth straightened his short back a little.

"You're not a gangster," Paige mumbled. Although he was a parrot, John Smoth was a huge pussy.

In the corner of an eye, she saw Sephiroth pay particular attention to the news. She picked up a few words about some people being stopped at borders here and there. She didn't pay too much attention, though. John Smoth kept on talking, not minding his language despite Sephiroth's presence.

The next day was worse. At least for Paige.

"I can't believe it. Today's Friday, and school starts on Monday." Her voice sounded dead. She vaguely noted that her face must look even deader. There was no way she was going to manage to eat her breakfast this morning. Not when she was this depressed.

John Smoth nodded his head exaggeratedly.

"Whadda beautiful day ta be free," he said, just like before. Paige looked around to see if Sephiroth was there, then gave the bird a dark scowl.
"Blasted bird," she muttered, not really being serious, because she enjoyed Smoth's company. At times.

"I'm hot 'cause I'm fly, you ain't 'cause you not," he rapped, and Paige was about to make a mocking face. She stopped when she felt air shift at her side.

Sephiroth?

She turned, and immediately initiated full defence measures all over her face.

It was Sephiroth, all right, and he was being very bare-chested at the moment. All that covered him were a few large band-aid -like bandages where he was wounded.

"Might I inquire about the whereabouts of your clothes?" She was breathless.
Scowling, Sephiroth nodded sideways towards his cloak and some other of his things, which she had folded in a pile on the living room table.
"Oh." Her voice was apparently defect. John Smoth spoke instead:

"I'm hot 'cause I'm fly, you ain't 'cause you not," he repeated from earlier, and this time, the elfish man was oddly amused.
"Fly, you say," he muttered. The bird rustled its feathers.

"Sephiroth," Paige spoke, then resisted her urge to open her mouth and pull his name back in, because she didn't realize she'd said it before the word was out.

He paused briefly, then spoke. "My wounds have healed almost completely. I will leave soon," he said, shrugging his arms into his cloak.

Paige frowned, but instantly evened out her face just as his eyes snapped to hers. He got his usual, irritated look on his face when their eyes connected, and Paige averted her eyes. Had she insulted him or something?

"What, like, today? Then... what about your sword? You don't know where I hid it," Paige asked, and again she was surprised by how that sounded. Like she was keeping him from leaving. His expression darkened and he scowled. She regretted her words.

"Whether or not you return my sword, I will be taking it with me when I leave," he said darkly, adjusting the buckles on his coat. He was already wearing his boots.
"I know," she retorted. "Even if I use your sword and you use a toothpick, you'll still win." It was the unmistakable truth, and depressingly so.

Sephiroth was now fully dressed. His leather coat was on, as were his boots and gloves. All that was missing was his sword.

Huh?

Was he leaving? Now?

R.R.

Such a short chapter... But I decided that I wanted a cliffhanger! Har-har.