A / N: Read the first part, Opus 1 of 5 in the previous chapter if you haven't. This chapter is a continuation of the previous one's story.


His name was a lingering legacy of everything that was wrong in the world.

I hated his guts; what kind of a man would be so vain about a speech mere minutes after his own father died?

A heartless bastard, that's what.

But when he plays, he's like a completely different person. He goes away to a special place and takes whoever is listening with him.

His music tells me that there's so much more to him than he lets on. That he's human still, underneath the mask of a monster he wore for so long.

He can still feel.


Lontano

(from a distance, distantly)

Gold Saucer was a carnival for the senses. She wandered through brightly lit streets and stalls that sold all manners of food, souvenirs and the occasional weapon. Everything that moved competed for her ear's attention and the stationary ones threatened to blind her eyes. She was surrounded in a whirlwind of smells, color, people, all stirred together by the cold Corel desert wind.

Amidst the nauseating conflux her eyes came to fixate on something in the distance; the flutter of a pink skirt, the back of the head of a man whose blond spikes snagged in one of the overhead signs. She didn't hear the giggle that escaped the brunette's lips as the man untangled his hair; she didn't really need to. She could see the way their hands were linked and the way she pressed closer to him to brush the nonexistent dust in his sunny hair.

The headache that started from the assault on her senses intensified. Suddenly the cheery upbeat music became too much and she could swear that it was mocking her. She turned and bolted for the transport tubes as if her life depended on it, plunging head first to the nearest hole.

A few heartbeats later she found herself in a place with far less light and no one in sight. Tears freely ran down her cheek and she wiped it away. She heard the scuffle of footfalls approaching and flattened herself against the walls, hiding behind the large sign of an arrow that pointed further down.

Two men and a woman passed her by, bantering with each other. She recognized the trio of bald round head, long red ponytail and short cropped blonde that passed her. Turks, she muttered with a softly veiled curse. All she wanted to do was lose herself in anonymity but why does she keep running into people she did not want to see?

She took a moment to compose herself and emerged from the shadows after they were gone. She felt the cold caress of the desert wind on her wet cheeks as her tears ran again. It seems she wasn't anywhere near stopping. She had to find someplace she could cry in peace and followed the breeze. Soon, she found herself standing in an open amphitheatre. The lights were dimmed and silence settled like a soft cloth on the empty seats. This place will do. She wiped the tears from her eyes and made her way down the stairs, looking for a seat in a dark corner where she can bawl to her heart's content.

But she was not as alone as she thought. A movement caught her eye further down: there was a man in front dressed completely in black. He stood and her eyes fell to the large black case that leaned on the seat beside him. The way the thin top belled out and curved was unmistakeable... She froze. There was just enough light to make out the cut of his blonde hair, the pale skin that has seen too little sun, the ice blue eyes and the infuriating smirk that always seemed to adorn his face.

She almost tumbled down the stairs had her feet not met solid ground when gravity pulled. She gave one last wipe under her eyes and gave him the fiercest glare she could summon. One man making her cry tonight was quite enough; she won't give another the satisfaction of seeing her run away.

Moments trickled by as neither made a move. He shifted first; his eyes lowered to stare at some fixed point at her face, somewhere below her eyes. Then his hand reached out and shouldered his cello. He gave her an unreadable look, his face half-hidden by the shadows. He headed in the opposite direction and ascended a side set of stairs that led to the stage. He pulled out a chair and dragged it to the center. With a flick of his hair, he sat and held the cello to his side. His hand lingered over the clasp before he freed his instrument from its confines. He bent his head and adjusted the tailspike, then softly trilled the strings, checking for sound. He dragged his bow across and played a low, mournful note that resounded across the empty amphitheatre.

She frowned as he went on to play smoothly, suddenly oblivious of her. What was he doing? She should go away now, while he was distracted. But she sensed no immediate danger and she came closer instead, like moth drawn to flame.

He did not look at her again, and she closed her eyes. She felt the music wash over her like a rush of warmth on a cold morning. The tension drained from her almost instantly and she relaxed, leaned backward and looked up at the night sky. He played on, weaving a string of low notes that seemed to rise toward the heavens, taking her with it. She stopped resisting her tears and let them flow, emptying herself of her emotions.

When she opened her eyes, the few stars visible from the glare of the park stare back at her. She smiled ironically; they could never compare to the sea of stars of the Nibel sky, but what's left above her shone brightly, defiantly, as if to make up for the others that winked out in the night. The stars were always there, she thought, all she had to do was look.

Like hope.

She didn't feel so cold anymore. She thought she would still feel sad but instead she felt only... relief. The music that wove around her was a balm to her soul; it was as if she was being cleansed and freed of all the false hopes she held on to for so long. And now... it was ok. The man she thought she loved had made his choice. She can only let him go.

She can let him go now. Her tears stopped coming.

She turned to the man whose shape outlined by the stage lights in the background. His long and delicate fingers pressed down the strings at the neck of his cello, while his other arm swayed back and forth with the bow. He stroked carefully, almost reverently, staying true to a rhythm that drew forth his music. His eyes remained closed and there was suddenly something very vulnerable about him.

He was one with his instrument; when he made a note linger, her heart soared. His music was telling her that whatever sadness she had to suffer through, no matter the burdens she bore, it was going to be okay.

A sense of calm spread throughout her as she continued to watch and listen. Was this what he intended all along? To play in front of her… for her? How did he know how she felt… what she needed to feel?

She felt indebted to him now, somehow… She had to do something. She looked up at the sky again. Perhaps here, underneath the Corel sky, with only the brightest stars as witness, she can make another promise that would close the wound in her heart once and for all.

I promise...

(Hey, why don't we make a promise?)

If you ever descend to the level where the rest of us exist in

(Umm, if you get really famous and I'm ever in a bind...)

I'll save you

(You come save me, all right?)

I don't want to be rescued, don't want a hero anymore... but I need to feel hope.

(Whenever I'm in trouble, my hero will come and rescue me.)

Whatever your intentions were, you made me experience that tonight

(I want to at least experience that once.)

So you better not fall

(Come on-! Promise me-!)

Then the music stopped. She turned to see Shinra put away his instrument and stand. He gently carried his cello and deposited it inside the case much like how a father tends to his child in a crib. He turned it around and picked it up through one of its straps, then hooked it over one shoulder.

She watched him as he descended from the stage and came out near her aisle, headed for the exit. "Shinra..." His name escaped her lips faster than she could censor herself. She bit her lip; whatever words she wanted to utter wouldn't make a difference anymore. He didn't need to know; didn't need to further complicate the way things were between them. He was already halfway to the exit before he turned back to her with a smirk on his mouth. "You know, an applause wouldn't have hurt."

A smile threatened to break on her face. Not yet. She raised an eyebrow instead. "If you played better, you wouldn't have to ask."

"Ingrate." He muttered, shaking his head as he walked away.

She waited until he was gone before she allowed the smile to bloom. She lifted her eyes up to heaven, at the brightly shining stars.

"I promise..."


To be continued... Yeah, patience is a virtue. XD