Author's Note: Final chapter before the epilogue. It took me forever to edit this – and when you read it, you'll probably understand why. I realize that a lot of the dialogue and scenes flicker back and forth; it's not as confusing as it sounds, as most of it is either perspective changes or flashbacks. Enjoy, and don't forget to review! The epilogue shouldn't be far behind!

Chapter Thirteen:
Beneath the Surface

"If you need to leave the world you live in,
lay your head down and stay a while."

Voices reached out to him in the darkness like the murmur of water over river stones, so that he could make sounds turn to syllables, but incoherently; was someone crying? No, they were too distant, too muffled beneath the sound of bees' wings. But he was aware – he wanted to wake up! To listen to those voices, to answer them and calm them.

"How long will it take to get to Mideel?" Hart asked through the headset. A breathy sound of impatience escaped the director, and he shook his head.

"Not much longer now," he answered curtly. His expression softened as he stole a sideways glance; a peridot eye glimpsed over the shoulder of a white lab coat, lingering on the redhead. Elena gave a quiet sob from behind him, and obsidian eyes darted back to the sea before them. "How's he holding up?"

It was like being under water, like being pummeled by a raging current, and smothered beneath the surface. Like a vacuum that sucked him farther…farther…

"…About the same," the scientist managed quietly, flinching as Reno's body jolted with a sudden tremor.

'…Wake up…' he begged himself, not quite sure if the words were murmured in his mind or swallowed by the ocean around him.

"…Don't bother…" the voice paralyzed his muscles, and the chuckle that followed felt like ice as it trembled over his spine. "You know you can't win this battle."

A garbled slur escaped his lips, and hands jerked absently against the restraints. Cerulean eyes watched him distantly, gloved fingers tapping the armrest anxiously. Sable eyes glimpsed the blond in the mirror, and Tseng sighed impatiently; he wished he could read the obscured expression scrawled over steeled features, decipher what the ex-SOLDIER was thinking…what the delirious redhead was going through.

'…It's my body…my mind…you won't use me!' he said, and again he wondered if the words were lost within him or drowned before they broke the sea-green surface.

"You won't have a choice when I'm through with you." Amused, the general chortled softly, and Reno tried to swallow the lump that hung dryly in his throat.

"I told you, you're not going anywhere." The professor's voice mocked him, and he heard the gun cock. Copper lingered over his breath, against his dry mouth. Suddenly, the sound exploded, and pain tore through his body.

The redhead lurched and a scream tore itself from his throat. Elena gasped and Tseng's eyes tore at the rear-view; the scientist whirled reflexively, and even the blond jolted at the sudden outburst. Hands wrenched at their bonds, and Reno's breath hitched, panting sharply, painfully…

He broke the surface briefly as the waves tossed him, and a shaky breath hissed over his lips as he clutched his side. The colors of the ocean spiraled in his vision as the waves pushed and pulled, and he felt the blow before he ever saw the rocks. They beat against his arms, his legs, his chest and the redhead was sure he heard the bones cracking even over the deafening roar of the waves. The next blow caught him in the back and he gasped, choking on the ocean foam as he fought to catch his breath.

Fingernails tore into the sheets as a gasp tore into his chest so that they shredded through supple cotton, and he howled in pain. Unfocused eyes trembled in their sockets, and his body thrashed against the gurney.

Over it all, he could hear the entertainment in the general's voice, but the words lost lucidity somewhere between his ears and the heartbeat that throbbed against them. Suddenly, the rocks were gone, and unexpected reprieve as he drifted weightless beneath the surface. Shallow breaths…slow, and painful…he could make them out, somewhere near him – almost in time with his own. Hastily he flailed, swimming desperately in the direction he thought was up; he winced and gritted his teeth as his body protested.

A gunshot; a warning as it pierced the silence, causing his whole body to quiver. Another, and he gasped as hot metal pierced his chest. Reno writhed, fighting the tug of the current, but he could feel it, like cold, gnarled hands forcing him down, and anchor wrenching him deeper.

"Don't…make me…" He recognized the pleading voice of the steel-faced director, the weakening breaths as the rip current drew him farther; the inhale, painful as it ached in his broken chest.

"What's happening?!" Tseng demanded sternly, eyes cutting to the startled scientist; Hart stammered as he tried to force together a response, sounding just as jumbled as the once-Turk.

"…He's being tortured," Cloud muttered distantly, gaze flickering to the director's. Eyes fixed, and Tseng swallowed dryly, instead letting his sight find the landscape below; he could see it now, only a few more minutes away.

'…Hold on Reno…'

…He was slipping…like raindrops from the sky, he could feel himself falling, drifting down… His eyes were heavy, and his body ached. He was tired…tired of fighting, tired of trying not to give in…

'…N-no…' he told himself – he couldn't let Sephiroth win! He wouldn't!

"Stubborn…just like a child…" the general mused quietly. Screams tore at his mind, the ravenous, guttural sounds of a demon as talons ripped through flesh and bones. White-hot pain tore into his skull, and scream bit at his lungs and throat. The air escaped his lungs as he gasped, this time in a large bubble that billowed upwards; he tasted the salt a moment too late. Cold, brackish water rushed between his lips, tearing his throat and in an instant his lungs were on fire. He coughed reflexively, body trying vainly to force it from his lungs and he tasted iron and salt, like he was drowning in his own blood…

The outburst pried itself free, though weaker – half screamed, half sobbed as his face twisted and eyes clenched. His whole body was trembling, and breaths came in raspy heaves. Elena wrapped her hands around one of his, though the consoling gesture went unnoticed by the feverish redhead.

"…He won't make it much longer," the ex-SOLDIER announced grimly, and suddenly the helicopter banked.

"We're here – I'm going to land as close to the Lifestream as I can," Tseng said, descending sharply. "Get ready."

He could feel the cold sinking over him, heavy as it pulled him deeper into the abyss; he could no longer hear the voices, the drone of bees' wings… He was miles under the ocean now, submerged and waiting to drown. There was nothing…just silence. Reno shuddered as he begged aching limbs to move, to persevere, but they refused his attempts. Everything felt vague, distant…his mind was foggy, and he couldn't remember how he'd gotten here; buried beneath and avalanche of powdered snow…

"…Let's just hope we got here in time…"

Warmth settled over his body like the balmy summer sun, still months away, and he basked in its radiance. But the air was crisp, not heavy and muggy like the afternoons at Costa del Sol; it was light…fresh. Like mountains, a breeze as it brushed over a murmuring brook in some unknown haven. And the sound tickled his ears, the tinkle of water as weaved through smooth stones. He could stay forever, just lazing beneath the bright beams that tickled and pinked pale skin.

"Your mind will never be yours." The tone was smug and demeaning and ripped the sweetly scented warmth away. Eyes fluttered open, trying to catch a last glimpse of the light as it peeled away. Reno sat upright, the cold and damp stone lingering on his back and sending shudders over his body like tremors. It was musty, dank, dark – alive with a foul fragrance, like formaldehyde, like the secret lab he'd been trapped in for seven years.

Blurred colors danced over his vision, slurring like a kaleidoscope, and his balance faltered as he stumbled over drunken limbs.

"I'm still here." The words cut through his mind, sharp but vague, and he wasn't sure if they lingered among reeling thoughts or escaped breathily into frostbitten air.

Shimmering ringlets of white and green danced in stark contrast over dark stone walls, dancing over cracks and crevices. Eyes glanced down; below him, a sea of green, radiant, luminous…

The crimson ambiance was muted by the fluorescent glow, and painted his reeling mind in hues of jade and scarlet. A breath filled his lungs, alive with a chemical zing, like a mouthful of pennies.

"I'll always be here." Sounds tore at his mind like razorblades – the drone of the air conditioning, the hum of the pumps, like fish tanks. "And you can't stop me." Lights swirled as the room spun; vaguely, he realized he'd fallen, but the notion was fleeting as a shrill bell screeched through his ears, like an alarm clock trying to wake him.

"You're just a puppet,"he scoffed, amused. Enhanced eyes could pick out the form in the darkness, vaguely illuminated in the soft green ambiance casted from below. His face was dark, shrouded beneath shimmering threads of silver; but his eyes stood out against the shadow, the bright green glow that gazed back like a mirror.

"…No…" he choked, willing away the high pitched whine, the hazed vision, the gleam of steel as it glazed with light. The general stepped forward, and the redhead's body betrayed him – wouldn't move, wouldn't flee or fight or feign confidence. Words caught in his throat, constricting vocal chords like inhaled smoke, and he tried to force them free, deny his satisfaction.

"…Wake up…" His mind was fading; he was losing consciousness, control…sinking…falling. Weightless…drifting, floating in some strange, invisible current. The frigid cave was gone, distant, and the stale scent no longer tugged at his senses. It was clean, pure, and he savored each breath as it filled his lungs. Temperate, nothingness.

Fingers brushed his shoulder, delicate, gentle…slender digits warm against his skin, the contrast leaving goosebumps in their wake. Again, his body refused to obey like a stubborn child. Even heavy eyelids seemed to be affected by the sudden paralysis.

"It's alright. You can rest for now." Tones, like notes on a piano, melodic. "You can wake up when you're ready." He breathed in a deep, relaxing breath, and it filled his senses with the familiar scent of flowers, of lilies grown in the slums. Ones he'd once trampled in his own arrogance. Halfheartedly, he chuckled to himself, a fleeting grin lazily tugging at his lips; he'd been a different person then – they all had. Haughty, demanding, willing to do just about anything for their jobs…for money. Meteor had washed all of that away, leaving only the sickening realization of what their superiority and pride had almost cost them.

The world around him was still and noiseless like the calm before a storm – the settling after one – and his body felt free; his mind felt free. Weightless. Soaring somewhere in a distant sky or drifting in a distant sea. Tranquil.

Finally, he forced his heavy eyes open, wincing, and fingers reflexively shielded fluorescent eyes from radiance that glowed over him like sunlight. The redhead sat up, but his vision, his mind swam with the abrupt motion. Pale hands rubbed at his eyes, pressing and swirling as they soothed away the ache that lingered from the sudden sunlight. She giggled, knees shifting in the grass beside him, and the soft sound tugged at his attention. Eyes fluttered open once more, and she cleared her throat as he stole a sideways glance.

Emeralds. That's the only way he could describe those eyes; a pure, glistening, green, like the stems and leaves of the lilies that flourished with her delicate touch. They were glassy, unwavering, and he could see every inch of her soul written over the glossy surface. Rose petal lips smiled, and something in the expression settled him. Abruptly, he turned his vision, letting his eyes instead trail the sun-kissed field. It was painted in hues of canary yellow and alabaster and bottle green like those eyes that watched him still.

"Where are we?" he asked nonchalantly; he folded his legs, and leaned over them, arching his back, and letting his gaze roam between flowers.

"…The Promised Land…" she answered softly; fluorescent eyes glanced back to her, sharp and hesitant as they studied her sincerity. Silken tresses swayed slightly in the breeze, and she shook her head softly. "Everyone returns to the Planet – Cetra or not. No matter what life they led, what they did, the pain they caused – or the joy they instilled in others." Her gaze left his, seeking interest instead in a nearby petal, creased, torn slightly around the edge. "But only an Ancient…only a Cetra can find this; …Supreme Happiness."

Stillness settled over them, save for the sound of whispering petals among grass, slow steady breaths that lined his senses with the sweet perfume of lilies. He closed his eyes, letting it remain inside him, fill him with warmth that seemed to swallow, envelop his mind, his body, every ounce of his being. Lungs deflated, like a balloon, and nostrils flared as air escaped, and his mind lingered on the question he wanted to ask, that tugged his mind away from the warm, relaxing silence.

"You won't be able to save him, just like you couldn't save your sister." The professor froze, eye wide with terror, locked with his; he watched it as though it were a film reel, unfocused and faded by years of replaying. Reliving…

A gunshot resonated through his ears, loud powerful like the climax of a storm, and eyes hesitated as he looked down to the wound. It went straight through the shoulder, blood oozing and staining the starch-white hospital gown. A chuckled escaped his lips, and he turned.

"Fight him, Reno!" the president called, shotgun aimed steadily. "Fight him like a Turk!" He approached, lips curled into a smirk…

"It's…it's your fault!" The words were almost inhuman as they tore from his throat. In an instant, his body lunged, hands wrapping over delicate flesh. They were nearly gray in comparison to the creamy skin beneath them, and knuckles whitened…constricted…

"Re-Ren…no…"

Finally, he sighed, leaning back, and the flowers danced around him, moving with his body as he propped on his hands.

"…So…what…what happens now…?" He had expected her to laugh; the answer should be obvious, right? But there was no humor sketched in her somber face, no excitement scrawled over ashen features. Instead, viridian eyes pierced him, glassy and knowing.

"…Sephiroth…will always be a part of you…" Her voice trailed, almost expecting a sudden reaction, an outburst – protests that it could be changed, that it had to be. But he fell silent instead, striking jade eyes finding the tufts of Bermuda grass around his hands; he had expected the answer, the wave of reality that crashed over him like seafoam. Pallid fingers twirled and tugged at plush blades so that they squeaked in protest, but never plucking them from sun warmed soil. Moments passed, silent, still; finally, Reno exhaled noisily, and let his eyes gaze toward the vibrant sky. "…But so will I."

He let his eyes find hers again, trying to read them, glimpse into her mind, memories maybe. But her gaze drifted, instead lingering over the silken petals as delicate fingers brushed them; nails brushed over a leaf, tracing the fine lines and veins that mapped the surface before trailing back to the ivory petal. Reno wanted to inquire, ask her to elaborate, give him a hint – stop being so damn enigmatic. But it was like his body couldn't bring itself to obey – like it was perfectly content watching bottle-green eyes sketch each detail of the intricate flower.

Suddenly, fingers plucked it, the stem giving a quiet squeal of protest as it snapped. Bangles jingled ever so slightly as her hand extended, offering him the lily. Malachite eyes glanced at the slightly worn flower, brows furrowing as he tested her; but she didn't waver, bright eyes fixed on luminous jade. Finally, he accepted it, the stem smooth and cool against his palm. The petals were alabaster, faded white, slightly tattered, slightly bent. The edges were faintly browned, slowly withering. Reno eyed the brunette suspiciously, and shook his head.

"So…the flower is a metaphor for my mental state?" he asked skeptically. She nodded, beaming, seeming almost proud that he had guessed where her point was going.

"Exactly," she answered, moving closer; a delicate finger traced the imperfections. "This flower…is like you. Its life is fading…dying…and it feels like it can't stop the process. It just…exists – it has nothing else to do. It's struggling just to get by."

"…Well…thanks for the vote of confidence," he muttered, letting his hand fall into his lap sorely. He stole a sideways glance, eyes shimmering like emeralds beneath a jeweler's lamp, lips pursed patiently, thoughtfully…

"But…if you help it along…" White skies shifted abruptly, and jade eyes darted upward. A roll of thunder echoed over his ears as clouds gathered like smoke against his vision. Like a camera flash, lightening flickered over them, and he winced against the sudden light. A droplet of water landed on pale skin, and he flinched as another brushed his nose. Trickling, like a leaking faucet, slowly turned on…murmuring as water struck earth. Like a brook, whispering over stones on a mountainside. Light crawled across the clouds, catching on raindrops like falling diamonds; thunder trembled through the sky, and a light wind brushed him. Lilies shuddered, petals dancing around him. Strands of red plastered over his face and his soaked shirt and jeans clung to his body heavily.

Finally, his gaze fell from the sky. Bottle-green eyes still glimpsed upward, almost mesmerized by the squall. Fingers brushed wet hair from her vision, and emeralds pierced him. She smiled, and something inside him fluttered – or settled maybe. A moment, they lingered, watching him contentedly, and he let his mind focus on the cadence of the rain.

"…You see?" she said finally, tearing his mind away. The rain began to slow, like an April shower, a faucet turned off…the last drops leaking steadily, surely…knowing well that they were the last to fall. Brows furrowed, and his eyes sank to the single flower in his fingers. Browned edges had whitened, the frayed and torn tips almost stitched together. It was white like fresh powdered snow, like the fragile flakes at the first of winter. Words caught in his throat, and he couldn't make breaths form syllables. Instead, eyes lingered on it, the delicate, fragile flower…imperfect, but alive…surviving.

"…It's time…" Jade eyes flickered as they looked up to the brunette, still wet from the storm. Dancing irises scrutinized her, traced every inch of flawless cream-colored skin. He swallowed the lump in his throat, letting them fall to the lily instead. When he didn't answer, she frowned, lips pursing pensively. "…You don't want to?"

"No, I do," he answered quickly, running a damp hand over his forehead. "I just…" he sighed, fingers twirling the stem between his fingers. "What's going to happen…am I…am I gonna be okay?"

"Hmm," she hummed wistfully. "When you wake up…your mind will be at war. Sephiroth will try to take control. You'll have to fight him, but…it's up to you whether or not he wins." Again, he didn't respond, but he didn't need to. Instead, he gave a quiet nod, letting his mind focus on the slowly clearing sky, the rain-glazed grass that danced around his ankles and hips and fingertips. "…but, you won't be fighting alone." He smiled half-heartedly, grateful that his past with the Ancient and ShinRa had not caused a rift of grudge to form.

"…Thanks…" The single syllable was muttered, more grunted than spoken, and sighed heavily as it escaped. There were no words to thank her, the spoken gratitude just a fleeting acknowledgement that held no real value. Just a gesture. She giggled, and he smiled despite himself. Eyelids drooped, feeling heavier, heavier… Lemon and alabaster petals slurred with viridian grass and emerald eyes, and soft pink fabric. A kaleidoscope, dancing over his vision, blurring, fleeting into some new image. Finally, he could no longer keep them open, and he felt himself falling. The fresh scent of rain lingered on his senses; the sweet fragrance, like morning dew, mixed with the perfume of flowers, and it clung to every breath as he savored it, reveled in it.

"I'll see you again soon."

With no warning, he was plunged back into the current, and he choked on brackish water. It filled his senses, his mind, washed away the fresh scent of lilies and rainstorms.

"I'm still here," the general announced, the cool voice echoing even over the shroud of water that ate away at him.

"Sephiroth will always be a part of you." Reno tried to focus, block out the rip currents that tore at his body, the anchor weighing him down. "...but so will I." He had to get out – find the surface… Jade eyes searched among the darkness – there had to be a way out, a light, the sun shining through the abyss.

"Why bother fighting?" Sephiroth asked, and the redhead's mind reeled as the cold, gnarled hands yanked him farther. "You know how this will end." Reno kicked and flailed, breaking free – even if just for a moment.

"Your mind will be at war." His glance fell, and he choked on a gasp; threads of silver danced around the general like angel's wings, and bright jade eyes gleamed among the darkness. Pools of Mako, reflecting in a mirror as Reno struggled to swim away. "You'll have to fight him, but…"

"You've already lost," he chuckled coolly, and a brisk current knocked the wind out of Reno as he fought to swim away. He could feel them, see dark hands reaching for him, pulling him deeper…he was sinking…had he…had he lost…?

"It's up to you whether or not he wins." Like an engine being started, Reno felt energized, like the revitalized lily. He shook himself free, refused to look back. Enhanced eyes could see light rippling over the surface. The sun, reaching out to him.

"…But you're not fighting alone." A guttural cry reach his ears, inhuman and deranged as emerald light flashed below. The cold, gnarled hands released him, the anchor torn free. Darkness was closing in around him, vision fogging and fading…drowning. He swam as quickly as his battered body would allow, arms ripping towards the surface, feet propelling him nearer…fading… Green light swallowed his vision, and he caught the scent again. Honeysuckles, flowers in the slums…rainclouds and afternoons at the beach.

"…The Lifestream…" he realized vaguely. The general was fighting still, but smothered somewhere in the torrent below. Trapped in his own abyss, the dark storm that raged beneath the surface. But that was distant, fading… Pale green grew brighter and brighter, until white tore at his vision and he had to wince away.

Eyes fluttered open, still hazed in a thin film of green as he broke the surface. Shades of blue and white slurred with hues of jade, and he blinked as they focused on crystal skies.

"Though you may not remember dreaming,
something waits for you to breathe again."

Quotes from "Imaginary," Origins Version, by Evanescence