Author's notes: Thank you so very much for those who offer their condolences. It really meant a lot.

Edited: 1/1/205

"The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend."

-Abraham Lincon-

"One Winged Angels"

By: FenixPhoenix

Chapter 10: "Revelations"

Tifa Lockhart stared at the liquid in her cup. Tendrils of white vapor came out of the tea Sephiroth had offered her after breakfast. Everything that happened over the last few days was now cramped inside her saturated mind. It was hard to believe she had been chosen by Minerva –the supreme Goddess of Gaia— during her short voyage inside the lifestream. In fact, it made absolutely no sense! Why would the planet's mighty guardian choose her out of all the possible warriors at her disposal?

Surely, Cloud would have been a better choice! Even Aerith would have been worthier, since she'd already proven her strength when she sacrificed herself for the planet's survival. And if Minerva had brought Sephiroth back to life, then maybe she could also revive the Cetra!

As self-doubts surfaced, Tifa chewed on her lower lip. She was drowning in tidal waves of fear. As inconceivable as it was, the Goddess had made a mistake! Obviously, Minerva had 'overestimated' her! Never mind that she was a supreme being, in this situation the she was wrong!

Tifa knew her skill at fighting was way above average, she had no doubts about that. However, she would be conceited if she were to believe for a second that she was the strongest or the kindest person on Gaia! No, it was wrong to be held in such high regards! Especially when she knew she was just an ordinary woman, with absolutely nothing special to offer.

"There must be some sort of mistake," she voiced, locking eyes with Sephiroth. She didn't even try to mask the distress in her voice.

Sephiroth frowned for a second, but then the creases on his forehead smoothed out, probably realizing what she was hinting at. "There is no mistake," he assured.

Of course he would say that. How can he –almighty Sephiroth- possibly be mistaken in his vision, right?

"If I am the planet's hope…" she started, her hands clasping her cup tightly as memories of her numerous failures danced mockingly inside. "Then… I'm afraid we are most certainly doomed."

Tifa almost swayed under Sephiroth's heavy and unblinking scrutiny. She automatically chewed on her lower lip again, a clear sign of her nervousness. She was about to lower her gaze, when he spoke.

"You underestimate yourself, Tifa," he stated, sipping at his drink. His eyes never left hers and he allowed her to see that he was voicing his honest opinion on the matter. This was, by no means, a social compliment.

The look of trust, and what she could only describe as slight admiration, made her blush and lower her eyes. Focusing in the green tea she had yet to taste, she reminded herself that Sephiroth was not a person who gave compliments lightly. In fact, he was a person who mostly kept his thoughts to himself, or so she had heard before his psychotic-Jenova-induced breakdown.

So then… why did he say that? She wondered, unable to fully believe his words. At least not yet. "There're probably a thousand people stronger than me. Brighter. Kinder…" she trailed off, knowing she didn't have to draw a detailed picture.

It was a bit unsettling, really. Could he not see what she did? Was he that blind to something that was so evident to her? The shoes Minerva had given her were simply too big for her to fill! There had been a mistake, there was no other explanation that would make sense!

"I'm sure you're right," he granted suddenly.

She look back at him in confusion not devoid of some sting. If he was agreeing with her now, then what were they supposed to do? Could he ask Minerva to choose someone else, perchance?

"However," he continued once her attention was on him, "I'm also aware that we're all unique, irreplaceable and unrepeatable. You, Tifa Lockhart, possess a combination of traits that Minerva deemed worthy to trust the fate of the planet upon. Who are we to question that?"

"But—"

He raised a hand to stop her. "I admit that what has been placed on your shoulders is a very heavy burden," he continued coolly, "The fact that you can't carry it alone doesn't mean you have failed or were chosen incorrectly. It simply means that you understand that only a group of individuals working together can achieve the extraordinary."

Despite her nagging doubts, despite the nervousness and fear creeping inside her, Tifa Lockhart smiled. How ironic that it was the very man who had hurt her the most the one that now offered a most needed comfort…'again'.

A short and tensed moment of silence ensured before she broke it.

"You'll help me, right?" she felt the need to ask, to search for reassurance and to know she would not tread the dangerous path ahead on her own.

Sephiroth nodded, "Yes, I will willingly carry the burden with you."

"Because you made a deal with Minerva," Tifa finished, astounded to hear her tone somewhat dry and curt. Where the hell had that come from?

Sephiroth shook his head immediately. "I confess that at first it was 'merely' a task, a path that would lead me to redemption and revenge."

His gaze became so very intense, that Tifa felt like squirming under it. Though she knew that to recover her composure she had but to look away, she couldn't. She realized just then that she was his prisoner and she was drowning in the exotic color of his eyes. Eyes that –she noticed with interest- reminded her strongly of the lifestream. Green shades softly kissing blues.

"…And now?" she prompted when an awkward pause followed his incomplete statement.

"Now it is my wish to protect you," he deadpanned without a trace of shyness or embarrassment. How the man maintained his face straight after that was beyond her.

Tifa's brain, to her distress, seemed unable to grasp those simple words because of their rather complex meaning. It was odd how something frankly stated scared and excited her as nothing ever did before and perhaps nothing ever would.

He killed your father, the bitter part of her reminded, but Tifa barely took that into account. Fact was, the last one who had vowed to protect her so openly -and truthfully?- had been Cloud Strife when they were kids…

Knowing he was waiting for an answer or at least an outward reaction, Tifa struggled for something intelligent to say. Thus, making full use of her extremely sharp communications skills, she said the only thing that could successfully –and without a doubt- convey her present state of mind.

"Huh?"

The General chuckled softly. The sound was so unusual and yet so very fitting even in a man who had been taught emotional displays were undesirable and reproachable. His mako eyes glinted with unhidden amusement –if only for a second- as he kept his gaze on her. After a moment, though, he sobered up. Slowly, he leaned forward, shifting his weight onto the elbows he'd placed on the table.

"I can count with the fingers of one hand the amount of people who have surprised me, inspired me, won my respect and my admiration. And even then, it took them years." His eyes soften a tiny bit, and Tifa felt her permanent blush rising in strength.

She gulped, hands absently playing with the sleeves of her shirt as she waited with anticipated stillness for him to continue. His lips parted into a small but genuine smile –the same one she'd last seen when he was still her midnight customer.

"Tifa Lockhart, you have done it all and it only took you weeks. It would be a great loss for humanity if something were to happen to you. Naturally as a SOLDIER, as one of Gaia's guardians, as a selfish man even, I cannot allow that to happen. You understand now why I've chosen to help you – to protect you?"

"I… don't… I…," she stuttered, unable to come up with something witty –or at least coherent- to say. She saw his crooked smile widening as his eyes glinted with amusement. He leaned back on his seat, his cup empty.

"The question is, would you allow me to help you, Tifa?" he asked and she was glad that his newest query was easier to answer.

"O-of course," she consented with a smile. She read surprise in his orbs, probably at being in the receiving end of one of her candid smiles, and she congratulated herself for catching him off guard.

Recovering, he stood up and cleared the table, "Good then."

Tifa stood up to help him gather the items and followed him into the kitchen. Dumping the dishes into the sink, Sephiroth began to wash them. Tifa grabbed a nearby rag and took the clean plate from his hand to dry it. He regarded her for a silent while in open wonderment before resuming his task.

"Sephiroth," she called, tasting his name with a voice empty of hostility. Perhaps she was imagining it, but it sounded nicer.

"Yes?" he prompted when she didn't continue.

He killed your father, the bitter voice persisted. This time, instead of ignoring it, her other part took note of it and responded accordingly.

I know.

So what? You will just forgive that –ignore it?!

No, her gentler side –that which always saw the good in people—corrected, I can never forgive the act. But the man I can forgive.

"Tifa?" his smooth baritone snapped her off her silent monologue.

She turned to him and smiled, "Thank you."

She saw his brows arching and his body tensing in something akin to shock. She was pretty sure he hadn't been expecting her to say that. She couldn't blame him either. Even a small part of her was caught off guard by her sudden words, though that didn't make them any less real.

Sephiroth turned his attention back to the dishes shaking his head. "No, Tifa. I should be the one thanking you for giving me a second chance," he confessed, offering the other dish for her to dry. "I find it intriguing though."

"Which part?"

"That you would ever wonder why Minerva was awed when she felt the power of your heart."

Tifa pondered that, taking the cup offered almost absently and drying it. "Ah…I…" she was at a complete loss as to how to respond to that, something that seemed to be happening much too often lately.

"Like I've said before," Sephiroth continued, sparing an interested glance her way, "I think the planet is in good hands."

Tifa could do nothing but smile. At some point in time, as she reflected upon everything, she realized that maybe…just maybe he was right.

-o0o-

Vincent Valentine had been wandering aimlessly –helping as many people as he could along the way- ever since the attack on Edge by the three silver-haired 'brothers'. His meeting with young Marlene had opened his eyes to the stupidity of his former way of living. What good could dwelling and drowning in guilt and self-pity inside the Forbidden Forest possibly accomplish? Granted, part of him still blamed himself for not protecting Lucrecia –even if it was from her own delusional dreams. However, was doing nothing but sulk the path he ought to walk to attain his deliverance?

Surely that couldn't be the case. Surely he was still in this planet –alive and well—because fate had dictated that he could still serve a purpose. So it was with both eagerness and a sense of fright that when Chaos began to shift restlessly within him -as he traveled through the land of Cosmo Canyon- the gunslinger chose to interpret this as a sign that he was needed.

Following what he could only describe as 'raw intuition', he glided at a speed that would easily match –and maybe even surpass- Cloud's prided motorcycle. With his pointy boots barely touching the hard ground, he sped forward as adrenaline pumped through his veins. A sudden sense of danger surrounded him, almost palpable.

After almost ten minutes of strained emotions and quick movements, he came upon the space between two canyons encasing the sound of a heated battle. Lowering his speed, he approached the hostile pair.

Upon closer examination, Vincent recognized Nanaki as one of the fighters. The tiger's fur sported darker patches of colors that indicated he was bleeding from numerous wounds, not all shallow. Valentine didn't have to study the situation any longer to make a decision. What he saw was all he needed to know. Nanaki was in trouble.

He took out Death Penalty from the hostler of his leg and aimed carefully at Nanaki's opponent. He hesitated when he noticed the boyish looks of the black-haired male. But when the boy raised the sharp blade of his weapon and was about to bring it down on Nanaki's exposed and vulnerable back, all reservations vanished.

Narrowing his eyes, he pulled the trigger and let his silver bullet fly. Pliiiiing. The sound echoed and the boy –probably hearing the weapon spit out the bullet- moved his blade in time to intercept the projectile that would have otherwise pierced his guts.

Mako grey eyes locked with mako red. There was no surprise within the steely orbs of the boy. If anything, it registered mild confusion before they emptied out. He seemed almost like he was in some sort of trance.

"Vincent," Nanaki didn't even try to conceal his surprise. Or the relief that showed in his dark eyes right after the shock dwindle.

"Why is he fighting you, Nanaki?" Vincent asked, moving towards him, while not taking his eyes away from the unanimated figure of the boy.

Odin, the kid could be no older than fifteen years of age! The shining of his eyes, however, troubled Vincent because it indicated he'd been showered with mako for a good portion of his life. Of course, that simple fact tied him with the cursed ShinRa corporation –more specifically the division of SOLDIER or human research.

This can't be good, he realized as he regarded the boy scrupulously. For a second time that day, Chaos shifted with feral fury, but Vincent was careful to keep him under control. He had a lot of questions and he doubted he would get answers from a mangled corpse.

"I came for mother's cells," the boy spoke as if in answer, his tone raspy. It made Vincent wonder if he used his voice much. Steel grey bore into blood red as the boy warned, "Do not interfere."

Vincent raised his weapon again and aimed it at him undaunted. Was that answer enough? He felt Chaos getting even more agitated, roaring inside of him to be left out. Vincent reined the powerful entity in, submitting him by using the protomateria embedded on his chest –Lucrecia's parting gift. Though the demon's strength could come in handy, the last Vincent needed was Chaos raging havoc all around while he was still unsure about the situation. But why could this boy get under Chaos' skin just as easily as Sephiroth?

"Jenova cells…?" Vincent wondered out loud. It was the most plausible explanation.

"Mother," the boy's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he said nothing more as he coiled in preparation for battle.

"Vincent, be careful," Nanaki growled. "He may not look like much but he is quick and deadly."

Vicent nodded and before he could ask Nanaki anything else, the boy charged -a kuma on each hand, ready to deliver pain. The dance of death began as the three figures twirled around each other. Parrying, thrusting, clawing, piercing and shooting with baffling quickness.

Soon enough, Vincent found Nanaki had been correct. The boy moved with liquid speed, his body flowing gracefully as if gravity had made an exception for him. Furthermore, he realized, somewhat annoyed, that he could match their speed –something that had to be commended since the tiger and himself were the fastest of the group, surpassing even the Jenova-injected Cloud.

When the boy parried his golden claw, Vincent flipped out of the way of his second blade –missing it by a mere inch. He came down on a crouch and was about to retaliate when Nanaki –who'd been kicked and thrown out of the way earlier- ran past him with bullet speed.

He noticed his window of opportunity when Nanaki's jaw closed on one of the blades –the sharp edge slicing the corner of his mouth a millimeter before being stopped by hard teeth. Vincent knew he had to be quick. Hesitation or lack of poise would mean certain doom for his friend.

The boy raised his other kuma, ready to plunge it into the skull of his attacker, but Vincent took aim and pulled the trigger. Letting out a grunt of pain, the boy's grip on both his weapons faltered as the bullet ripped through his free arm. He staggered back a few steps with confusion filling his grey orbs as he inspected his wound.

Nanaki also moved back, one of the kumas still held between his teeth, not wishing to leave it in a place where the younge boy could retrieve it–especially after the effort it took to disarm him.

"You… shot me?" the boy stared blankly at Vincent, as though the concept of being wounded was too complicated to grasp.

Vincent was not about to let him dwell on that for long, though. Raising his weapon, he fired again –this time aiming for his head. He did not wish the boy to suffer more than was necessary, even if he was an enemy.

Pliiiiing. The silver bullet connected and bounced off a green-glowing shield that enveloped the wounded fighter.

"Oriel, sweetie," a honey-layered voice drawled as a brunette jumped down from her perch on one of the upper rocks that protruded out of the canyon's walls. High-heeled brown boots clattered against the ground as she made her way to the boy, hips swaying seductively.

Each step made her white, long skirt open on the left side to reveal a long, shapely leg from the mid-thigh down. It was too odd a sight to find a woman dressed like that on a battlefield. In reaction to her appearance, he gave a step back, guardedly regarding what was happening from a safe distance.

The bleeding boy turned to the voluptuous woman almost uninterestedly, his confusion –like before- already gone. Pointedly ignoring Vincent and Nanaki, she towered the shorter boy, one of her hands holding her staff in a relaxed fashion. A healer? The fact that the colors of her attire matched the boy's did not go unnoticed by the trained eye of the former Turk.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" she asked as mako brown eyes swept the boy from head to toes. "Oh, you're shot!"

The boy turned his attention to his wound. He touched the bleeding area gingerly, his face passive the entire time. Then, he brought his crimson fingers near his eyes. The look on his face made Vincent guess that–peculiar as that was— he could simply not understand what was happening.

"Don't worry your little head over this trifle thing," the woman cooed, placing a hand atop his head. She leaned forward so that she was eye level with him, unabashedly revealing a lot of cleavage that the brown top -beneath her beige, thin jacket- could not conceal. "Your lovely sister Jezebel will take care of you in no time, Ori!" she assured, caressing his cheek with affection.

When she straightened, she finally spared a glance at them. Her brown eyes smoldered when they settled on his pistol and her swollen-looking lips parted in a coy smile.

"You did this to my poor lil' brother?" she enquired softly, facing them squarely and without fear.

Vincent felt the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. There was something positively evil about her. Studying her attentively, he realized her gaze was alight with mako energy too. Before he could spare a word of warning to Nanaki, her body was encased in a greenish light as she called forth her magic. She muttered softly beneath her breath, closing her eyes as she planted her staff between her feet.

Vincent was about to shoot at her to interrupt the spell, but she opened her eyes and he knew it was too late.

"Comet!" she yelled as the clouds above parted to let through various oncoming objects. Indeed, not one but more than a dozen comets were soon raging down from the sky.

Red XIII and Vincent were quick on their feet as they concentrated on dodging the powerful attack. Hard as they tried, they were unfortunately unable to avoid all the fiery rocks and were left hissing curses when the projectiles connected.

When the sky returned to normal, they found their bodies marked in numerous places by bruises, cuts and burns. Thankfully, thought distractedly painful, his wounds weren't serious. After his self-inspection, red eyes zeroed on the place where his opponents had been standing only to find it empty. Chiding himself at failing to noticed the evil witch, he was about to commence his search of them when the sound of a body crashing against the ground interrupted him.

In seconds, he was beside the weakened and bloody body of Red XIII. His wounds were graver and some cuts –curtsey of the boy- had made him lose a vast amount of blood already.

Glad that he'd decided to keep a healing material lodged onto the slot of his weapon, the gunslinger cast a cure spell. His hands glowed green as he placed them lightly on each of the major wounds the tiger sported, closing the gash and repairing the skin in the process. As he kept working on his friend, Vincent Valentine's pondered on what was definitely soon to come.

One question rang loud and clear. What the hell is going on?

-o0o-

Yuffie Kisaragi's hands balled into tight fists as she stepped into what was left of Seventh Heaven. She felt her gathering tears sting her eyes as she contemplated the destruction and what it signified. Seventh Heaven was no more.

"You can't be here, ma'm. This is a WRO restricted zone." The soldier made to grab her forearm, but she moved out of his reach and threw down the beige, cat-shaped hood that composed the cloak she'd donned. Ironically, the cloak had been a gift from Tifa for her last birthday. The thought only made her heart ache.

"Kisaragi, Yuffie," she introduced, keeping her voice as composed as she could. When she successfully managed to push the lump out of her throat, her tearful eyes narrowed, "I'm sure you've heard of me."

The guard's eyes widened for a second and immediately saluted, "Ma'm. I apologize."

Yuffie shrugged and waved a lazy hand, dismissing his exaggeratedly tensed reaction. She was not very much into the whole official salutes and etiquette. "Is that old man, she cleared her throat when the soldier flinched, "I mean, is Reeve Tuesti here?"

"Yes, ma'm. His temporal office is located on the second floor of that building," he pointed at a three story, old and shabby looking structure.

"Thanks," she said and seeing as the man was not yet leaving she added, "Err… dismissed?"

"Ma'm!" he clashed the heels of his boots, puffed his chest out and saluted briskly before returning to his post.

Yuffie sighed. She turned around intent on heading towards her newest destination –hoping Reeve could tell her something about what \ happened- when something caught her attention.

"What the…," her eyes narrowed as she made out the distinct figure of Caith moving stealthily within the rubble as the sun began its decent –creating puddles of shadows which were perfect for concealment. Her eyes turned to slits in suspicion and she proceeded in following the oblivious robot.

What are you up to, Reeve? She questioned, kneeling beside a piece of wall that was still partially standing when the robot stopped. Peeping out from her hiding spot, she switched her attention from the black cat to what lay ahead.

"…What?" she tilted her head when she noticed a young black-haired woman inspecting the rubble at her feet with avid interest. A red piece of cloth tied high around her right arm indicated she was part of the WRO.

She eyed the robot again and, quirking an eyebrow, made her way towards him, careful not to make a sound. When she was looming just behind him, Yuffie did the only thing she felt was the right thing to do. She wacked him on the head. Hard.

"Ooooww!" the irish-accented robot wailed and turned around, ready to pounce, when he noticed her.

He groaned. "Yuffie, what was that for," his eyes narrowed, "Better yet, what the hell are you doing here?"

She folded her arms and glared. "You stalkin' that poor girl?!" she accused, forgetting why she was there in the first place. "You ought to be ashamed!"

He glared back and defended, "I'm not stalking her! I am merely following her!"

"Is there even a difference?!"

"I have a feeling that-" the offended robot began before being interrupted.

"You have something that belongs to us."

They stopped bickering and turned in sync at the interruption. Putting their heads out –each from one side of the rock that was hiding them- they noticed a tall, lean but muscled man walking towards the woman.

The WRO researcher Caith had been stalking was quick to regain her feet. The stranger was easily one-and-a-half heads taller than the WRO scientist, with a broad back and powerful arms to match. His flame red hair –wrapped in a high pony-tail—swayed like a cape as he closed the distance between them.

"Who's that?" Yuffie asked, noting the odd eyes of the man. They were bright crimson with a gold ring around the pupil. What was most disturbing, though, was that they glowed with mako energy.

"I'm not sure," Caith confided. "But this can't be good. I think Rie's about to get in trouble."

The redheaded stopped a meter away from her. His long, beige jerkin flapped with the wind. Beneath the knee-length, buttoned-up jerkin, he was wearing a brown, high collar shirt and white pants. His brown boots reached a little above his mid-calves.

"Hand it over," he brought up his left hand, palm outstretched while his right one settled on the hilt of the sheathed sword by his side.

Rie tilted her head to the side, shrugged and threw something at the man.

"What did she give him?" Yuffie asked.

"That better not have been evidence," Caith growled.

The stranger's eye narrowed dangerously as he inspected the thing he'd caught in mid-air. He closed his hand tightly, crushing the item carelessly. When he opened it, he allowed the wind to carry away the dust.

"A rock?" the man spoke tightly, looking at Rie with something between interest, anger and amusement. He brushed his bangs out of his eyes, making some of them settle on the side of his face, framing it.

"Your petition was quite vague," Rie pointed out.

Despite his anger, the man grinned and gave a menacing step forward. Amiably, he elaborated, "Then let me make it clearer. I want Sephiel's hair and you better not have tampered with its cells."

Rie stepped back and grabbed the weapon strapped to her lower back. Noticing, the stranger unsheathed his katana gracefully.

"Oh, GROSS-NESS! Hair?! He wants friggin' hair! Who the hell is this guy?!" Yuffie scoffed, turning to Caith questioningly.

"I don't know but we need to help her. Come on!" With that the cat charged ahead.

The stranger lunged towards Rie, who was armed with a kodachi. Steel clashed against steel before Yuffie –using her shriuken- slashed the man shallowly on the shoulder. The unexpected attack made the redhead move back a few steps.

"Reinforcements?" he murmured, sweeping them with an uninterested glance. His lips parted in an amused smile, "Oh, my bad. It's just a damn brat and a shabby cat."

Yuffie gasped. "Who are you calling a brat, old man! I am the champion of the earth and the sky. I am the conqueror of evil. The single white rose of Wutai (1)!" she introduced dramatically, readying her powerful weapon.

The man raised an eyebrow, "Ah, I seemed to have been mistaken."

She smiled smugly. Her intimidation skills always worked like a charm. "Damn right!"

"You're a 'annoying', insignificant little brat," the man corrected.

Yuffie growled but decided to ignore the insult for the time being. She needed to keep her cool. Yes. That's what Vincent always told her, right?

"Oh GAWD! Whatever, loser!" she yelled before pointing a finger in his direction. "Just who the hell are you!" the ninja demanded, preparing to throw her weapon again –her anger still evident.

"None of your business… ugly 'brat'."

"THAT'S IT! Your going down, pal!" she yelled, positively fuming. Apparently Vincent's words had just flown out the proverbial window.

Narrowing her eyes, she threw her weapon with all her might. The stranger caught it effortlessly and –much to her surprise- threw it back with matching skill. Yuffie was quick on her feet, pushing Rie out of the way before the sharp blades could slash at them. The stranger was readying another attack when a battle-roar, followed by the sound of a machine gun, made him reconsider.

"Yo' better think 'bout dat again, reddy!" Barret rumbled, charging like a mad bull, gun pointed at their opponent.

"How troublesome," the man said before taking out a small evidence bag out of the pocket of his pants. He held it up between his fingers mockingly.

"The evidence!" Rie gasped, patting her pockets and realizing the obvious.

"Thank you for your cooperation, love," he said, looking at Rie with a smug smile, "I'll be going now. But I'm sure we'll see each other again… sooner rather than later."

With that a crimson wing –with two smaller black wings beneath it- came out his back. The feathery limb wrapped around him and, in a blink, he was gone.

"The fuck was dat! Now ya'll tell me we've got damn bird-men attackin'?" Barret shouted, marching towards Caith. "Reeve! Yo' better start explainin', ex-spy!"

"Yeah, Reeve!" Yuffie agreed, standing beside the huge man with hands on her hips, "And where's Tifa!"

Rie chose that moment to join as well. She knelt before the cat and stared at him blankly for a long while before confessing, "Reeve, I've lost the evidence."

"I saw that, Rie."

Rie nodded curtly –making it seem like she was glad that was out of the way- and said nothing more.

"The hell's dis?" Barret asked Yuffie in a tone that tried to be soft but failed, making Rie turned to him inquiringly.

Yuffie shrugged. Indeed, just who was this girl? Better yet, if she was part of the WRO, then why was Reeve following her?

"I dunno, but Reeve was stalking her," she whispered.

Unfortunately, the growl coming out of Caith proved her tone was not as low as she had intended. "Yuffie…," the mechanical voice warned.

Rie, for her part, just looked at them all at a complete loss.

To be continued…

Story's notes:

(1)This is a direct quote from Dirge of Cerberus. Yuffie used it after saving Vincent.

AN: Please do not forget to review, it means a lot. Also, for those wanting Cloud to appear, I think he will be reappearing next chapter.