6.

"This is the one." Yazuu gazed at the pristine yet homey edifice in wonder. The open magazine trembled in his hand, the picture a perfect match for the reality now before them. "We've found her!"

Loz scuffed his toe in the flowerbed, dislodging a few neat little stones and stirring up the winter mulch. "I don't know about this, Yazuu. I don't think we belong here."

"Nonsense, my dim yet handsome brother!" Yazuu caressed Loz' face, then gripped him by the jaw and aimed his eyes at the doormat. "See? It says 'WELCOME!' – besides, she's renowned the world over as a first-class hostess. She wouldn't turn us away, especially after she's learned how far we've come to meet her."

Kadaj scowled like a petulant two-year-old, his pretty features screwed up in a mask of unhappy. "I don't care what you say, she's NOT my mother!"

Yazuu sighed, handed the magazine to Loz, and rounded on the brat. "Kadaj, for the last time – do you WANT to be used up and discarded and never even get to meet Sephiroth face to face? Or…" Yazuu smiled then, a slithery kind of smile that usually meant very bad things for the viewer, but in this case it only meant that Kadaj was about to be outsmarted, big-time. "Or would you like to let Mother know that you'd love her even more if she would only let you meet your big brother, before she used you for the end of the world? She'll figure it out, you know, and I bet she'll come through for you. Just you wait."

Hope shining in his naïve little cat-eyes, Kadaj looked up at Yazuu and risked a small smile. "You really think she'd –?"

"Of course she would!" Yazuu stated, turning around so Kadaj wouldn't see him cracking up. Personally, Yazuu thought that if Jenova ever figured out what he was up to, he'd be viewing the world through Sephiroth's asshole – if he was lucky. Still, if Kadaj could just shut up long enough for Yazuu to buy them some more time, all bets would be off. "Now, shall we meet the woman that Mother would surely want to be?"

Loz distracted him with a tap on the shoulder. "Um, Yazuu? The sign says 'Paparazzi Will Be Eaten'…"

"What's a paparazzi?" Kadaj whispered, hiding behind Loz.

"Well, one thing's for certain: we're not that," Yazuu stated firmly, then rang the doorbell.

The three remnants could hear footsteps on the other side, echoing through a large open space, moving downstairs, crossing another large open space, and then:

"Oh! Are you collecting for a school trip, boys?"

Yazuu frowned. This woman didn't match the mugshot. "We're here to meet her," he demanded as he tilted his head for dramatic impact.

The woman tilted her head as well, though in her case it denoted simple human puzzlement. "Are you…fans? That seems rather odd…teenage boys don't usually…" Then she seemed to really look at Yazuu, and her expression brightened. "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, it's just so easy to presume everyone is straight. Please, do come in!"

As Yazuu led his less dainty brothers into the parlor, the woman checked behind them to make sure they weren't followed. Perhaps she's the owner's bodyguard, he mused. Though she doesn't look very strong…then again, Turks didn't always look strong. That redhead, for example – he looks more like he's built to dance than to fight, and those long legs…I wonder how he'd be to –

Approaching footsteps broke his train of thought, but not before he'd bookmarked it for later consideration. Someone was coming down the sweeping staircase, their footfalls crisp but unhurried. Yazuu felt his breath catch in his throat as he caught his first glimpse of their new mother.

Loz gasped, riffled through the magazine he still held clenched in his hands, looked up again, then whispered, "It's HER!"

The name formed on Yazuu's lips like a prayer. "Martha Stewart."

A/N: Cookies and an internet to those who saw this coming. ~_^