Hi all, hopefully, it hasn't been too long since the last update! The last one was supposed to be a bit of a thriller, discovering the truth and following the Final Fantasy VII plotline a bit. Now, I'm trying to expand Jalen's world just a little bit. Soon, you'll be able to see into her life at home, and how it used to be, and how it might possibly lead to her back into the hands of our favorite Turk ;).

Technically, this was a filler chapter for more action, but I thought it was kind of a nice transition. Anyways, enjoy the temporarily laid back style of writing because from here on out I'm going to experiment in making the story more intense than it already is!!

pink-revolt - thank you so much!! I like your favorite's list! haha

RemnantofVII - haha sorry, but surprises are good? maybe i'll come back to what you're expecting later :

Memmi - okayokayokayokay! here! enjoy!

Enjoy! Leave a review, please. Let me know if you hate it, like it, love it!

10.
Am I Dead Yet?

It bites at me. With little sharp fangs, it bites at me—the rain, the wind, the hail—and each step is a struggle to live through the next one. The adrenaline pumps through my system. It's the only indication that I'm still alive. I don't know where I am and all I can think about is the warmth I woke up to this morning, the gentle crawling motion Reno's arm made across my back, and his clear blue eyes waned in cheerful half-moons as he flashed me that unguarded smile. And how I long just to be with hi...

No!

Run. I've got to run. From these thoughts, leaving little shreds of them behind in my footsteps, with each clap my feet make against the ground. The rain, this numbing cold, pitter-pattering against my trembling skin means nothing.

My vision is blurred, gray streets and colored signs, green stoplights and yellow buses, everything mixing in a swirled blur like someone took a stick and stirred everything into a melting pot of color. And then, as suddenly as it all started, everything straightens. A small wooden door stands in my path. I pull on the handle and a gust of warm air engulf my face. Voices sound all around me, laughing, sobbing, bubbly and slurred. I stumble in through the crowded tables and find myself sitting in a seat at the bar, almost blinded by the sticky warmth around me. My face falls flat against the table—it's now that the cold catches up with me and my breathing becomes little shallow gasps in my chest.

"What can I get you, Miss?" the bartender asks me. I can't see her face, my eyes stunned by the cold, still. "Are... are you alright, Miss?" Her voice is sweet and caring.

"Where am I?" I stutter between heavy breaths.

"Seventh Heaven, best pub in the sector!" her voice is cheerful. I tilt my chin up just a little bit just to get a glimpse of her face. I see her bright beautiful brown eyes, which seem to widen a bit as she sees mine.

"Am I dead yet?" I ask. The bartender quickly leaves my shallow field of vision and comes back again with a mug. I left my eyes and see its filled with a deep yellowish liquid, foaming over the rim of its container. She pushes it into my cold hands which I just realize are on the bar.

"Drink it," she orders. "It doesn't taste good, but it'll warm you up."

"So...I'm not dead," I mutter—she must think I'm delusional—which I think I am. I don't take a sip just yet, but my hands shake. My mind swims in the wake of the suddenly realized option of crawling right back out into the rain and letting the cold take me. My number was up long ago, why am I pushing it?

"Please drink it," I hear—she sounds like she's pleading. I take a swig. Immediately, the heat burns down my nostrils and throat and spreads through to my fingertips. "Where are you from?"

"I...No...It doesn't matter, I don't know...I don't know where I'm going," I mumble, concentrating on the warmth that slowly spreads down my chest. My body has made the decision for me to live, but my mind is still protesting. Automatically, my hands bring the mug to my lips and I drink again. The liquid burns down my throat. "I'm running." It was the plainest thing I could think to say without being untruthful. I feel it swelling against my chest, the pain welled up from everything, Nibelheim, Zack, Reno...Zack... "From something inevitable." The tears suddenly start to roll. I must be a mess. "And I don't know where to stay... I've got no money. I...I just...ran." I'm an idiot; I should've stolen some gil from that goddamn, stupid, beautiful Turk.

"You can stay with me, I'm headed to Kalm, if that's alright with you!" she offered cheerfully. I lifted my head to look at her. Her deep brown hair fell in a low ponytail over her broad shoulder and rested gently against her chest. Her face was angelic, almost child-like, exuding innocence and love...and pain.

"Kalm..." I mutter to myself, lost in the thought. "Yes! I... I'm from Kalm!" I had a life there once. That was it! My next step was to find that life again. To find Martin again. He'd be proud of me... wouldn't he? Of course. My Martin. He'd take me in his arms and stroke his fingers through my hair and I would breathe in his sweet scent and finally feel secure. And he'd look into my eyes and joke about how they're now as blue as the skies are in Kalm. He'd laugh, and I'd watch in secret pleasure at the wane of his eyes, the curve of joy in his lips.

"Great! Well let me close up," she walks away and I suddenly realize that the pub is now empty. I stand to my feet, feeling wobbly, but not the same as before, a loose kind of comfortable wobbly.

"No, I-I hate to be a burden. I'll just go to the inn," I try to reason with her, taking a few steps forward, but the soles of my feet send a spiking ache through my calves, and suddenly I'm hanging onto the bar chairs for dear life.

"Nonsense, you can barely walk and plus, they charge way too much for just one night at the inn."

"But," I stutter. "I'm a complete stranger! How... can you trust me? You don't even know my name."

She stops stacking chair for just a second and looks at me, "What's your name?"

"Jalen," I say.

"Jalen, I'm Tifa," she says curtly, then continues before I can respond. "Listen, there are two types of runner in this world: the runner that runs for the hell of it, and the runner who's running from something. No offense, but you don't look like you're having fun. And these days, the only thing to run from is the government. And if that's the case, you are always welcome at Seventh Heaven. Come here, let me show you your room." She sounds eager as she leads me slowly to the side of the bar—to some kind of little machine ticking. She directs me to stand next to it and suddenly, the ground shifts under me.

I scream and Tifa giggles. It's a trapdoor and there's a room underneath. It's a small room, the yellow walls lined with cheap picture frames and a table in the center of the room. In front of that, sits a long leathery couch, and in the very corner a bed with an unmoving body, but all I can see—or wish to see, really—is its feet kicked up off the edge. I eye it, but Tifa directs me to the center of the room.

"The others will be back soon!" Tifa is mostly talking to herself this point, scrambling around the room excitedly, and setting things up. "They'll be excited that you've come here! You might even like it with us that you'll want to stay." The couch looks so inviting that I can only hear it's call. I stumble over slowly and drop myself onto its soft embrace. I curl up on one of its arms and suddenly Tifa's chatter becomes a lullaby. The world of sleep cradles me in its arms and I begin to drift away from reality.

The next time I open my eyes it's mid afternoon and I can't remember much the night before besides running, and Tifa, of course. There's a blanket tucked around me which I shrug off with my shoulders. I sit up and look around. The feet on the bed haven't moved an inch—I specifically remember that.

There was a new face in the room now: a burly looking man with dark skin and a mechanical arm. He turns to me and I suddenly shrink away. The...machine arm frightens me. Throttling pain sears through my sides, races to my chest. My mouth doesn't open, but I'm screaming, shaking. Screeches noises, and black, dry nothing. My eyes see in that split second--Needles and machinery.

He sits across the table from Tifa. She smiles as soon as she sees me, those angelic eyes waning cheerfully.

"Good morning, sleepy-head," she greets.

"I...I'm really not dead?" I ask.

"No! Stop saying that. Now, would you like breakfast?"

"No...I'll pass, thanks." I swing my feet over the side of the couch and touch them lightly to the carpet. I look to the pair of feet on the bed again. "Is...that person..."

"No," Tifa smiles weakly. "He's just sleepier than you." Her smile looks disgruntled. "This is Barrett," she says suddenly. Barrett holds up his good, fleshy hand as a greeting.

"What are you here fo'? You a runner?" he asks me. I gaze at him, not quite sure what to say, then he turns and prods Tifa in the arm. I know he's trying to be secretive, but I hear him anyway muttering, "Tifa, look at her eyes."

Tifa looks up at me and freezes, her brown eyes no longer cheerful.

"Jalen...are your eyes...naturally that color?" I knew this was coming. Looking at her eyes and knowing that's how mine used to be, I knew she would question me about my newer scarier eyes. I knew it. But she seems to keep a locked understanding in her eyes. Either way, it's not a pleasant story; I take a deep breath.

"They told me I used to have deep brown eyes like yours, Tifa," I say quietly. "I'm running from him."

"Him?"

"Well, them. ShinRa."

"We all are here, Jalen," Tifa tries to smile encouragingly, but I still see the pain.

"They made me this way," I say in a low voice. The shudders run up my spine. "I was a first class SOLDIER. They built up my dreams. Made me believe I could do great things, then they tore everything away. I was left to die."

"The bastards!" Barrett yells suddenly and slams his hand against the table. Tifa puts a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"Why don't you come eat something, Jalen." I nod and lift my weight onto my feet slowly—these feet that have carried me through war and blood and death. Wearily, they lead me towards the table. I glance again at the set of feet laying on the edge of the bed in the corner of the room and shiver, but as I near the table, I can finally see what those feet are attached to: the long lanky arms, the chiseled face, that familiar spiky blonde hair, and those eyes, those unmistakable blue eyes staring blanking forward. My breath leaves me, my feet plastered in their place, shaking but so still.

I push him inside a stall. Our bodies collide and he staggers. Cloud. Cloud! I can't go to the medic. Sirens, sporadic red flashes glazing across the metallic lining on the floor.

Cries, whimpering, slowly dying.

"Cloud?" It's a whisper at first, then screams. "Cloud!! CLOUD!!" I can't stop myself—my kin. His eyes are a dead blue, but swimming with life and understanding, staring at the ceiling but not seeing it at all. My Cloud... "They're after us, Cloud! Get up! We have to run!" The words come rushing out in desperate cries. "Cloud! They've killed him, Cloud! They've killed Zack!"

"Jalen!" her voice is crystal clear and snaps me out of my hysteria. "He's got Mako addiction, a severe case it seems. I...I'm afraid he can't hear you."

"Where did you find him!" I turn to them suddenly, and back away. The feeling in my heart has changed. Do I trust them now that I've found one of my own? I've got to protect Cloud. He's helpless as he is now! "Who are you people and what's happened to him!"

"Jalen!" I see the sincere twinkle in her eye. "I found him lying by the train tracks. He's my childhood friend—we grew up together in Nibelheim—so I took him in and I'm taking care of him." Tifa. The name finally sounds familiar. Glowing brown eyes. I'mTifa. I'mthebestguidethereis. I calm down and step away from Cloud's side, glancing at his cold strange eyes one more time. My Cloud. My brother...what's happened to us? I wish I had been so lucky to have been thrown out near where Martin could have taken me in.

Martin. Martin. I remember his loving glance, the tender sense of love and authority in his protective green eyes and his rough chocolate hair that rustled every time I pulled my finger through. Kalm Town. It must be time to go home to my love and finally see him. It must be time to face the past—the life I had before Nibelheim and SOLDIER—where I was the Daredevil, and didn't have to pretend to be anything else. But first...to explain myself to my saviors.

I walk over to Tifa's table and take a seat. Slowly, I begin to explain everything I know. The physical running is done. Now the memories are released from their long sleep, the past suddenly bounds before me like a wild but familiar road. A tangled daydream on which I had yet to tread.

Next stop, Kalm, Martin, home.