Journey

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AN: Thanks so much for the awesome reviews. Happy New Year everyone.

/

The following morning brought a bright blue sky, as though to make up for the dark events of yesterday. The snow from the night had made a fresh carpet of pure white fun, and everyone, local and tourist, were out to enjoy it.

At least, so they were told. Avalanche were so tired from the previous day they slept right through to the afternoon until the inn keeper grew concerned and went to check on the girls – who in turn went to check on the boys.

Cid had been deep in a dreamless sleep until Barret unceremoniously tripped over him on his way to answer the door, causing Cid to yell out, Cloud to bolt up in bed and the girls to burst in thinking someone was being attacked. Red watched calmly from his corner.

"Ugh, I'm too tired for this shit," Cid moaned, throwing the covers back over him and rolling into his futon.

Barret climbed to his feet and sluggishly shuffled back to his bed where he collapsed. "I ain't movin' until someone brings me food."

Tifa leaned one hip against the door frame, clothed in the Inn's complimentary bathrobe. "Breakfast was four hours ago," she said without her usual strength. In fact, she sounded downright timid. After what they'd been through, it was understandable.

Cloud stopped rubbing his face and frowned; he had been so tired last night not even his usual bad dreams had plagued him (what was it with this team and nightmares?). "What time is it?" He asked.

"Gone 12.00," Tifa told him, stifling a yawn. Yuffie had fallen against her, still half asleep in the other bathrobe and looking very groggy.

"And, by the way," the young girl said, his eyes half-mast. "We're not going out there without warmer clothes, so you guys're gonna have to get us some."

"What?" Barret demanded, slouching where he sat and staring gormlessly at the two girls. "You want us to fetch ya clothes? Ya damn well better give us the gil for 'em."

"We will," Tifa said firmly, more to Yuffie who opened her mouth to argue. "But we should take a day to recover and resupply, so no rush, guys."

"Thanks," Barret deadpanned.

"And while you're out there could you take Vincent's cape back to him?" She asked, her voice a listless tone. "I know he probably doesn't get colds like us, but I'd feel better if he had it with him out in that snow."

"Keep it, he's probably glad to be on his own over there," the dark man said, thumbing a mark on his gun arm. "Doesn't need bothering anymore. If he wants it he'll come and get it."

Yuffie gave a loud sniffle. "I think I'm gonna have another hot bath." She turned and shuffled out of view. "And some food would be great, guys." She called back.

"By the way," Tifa said regaining their attentions, a light smile on her face – the first in twenty four hours. "There's a hole in your boxers, Barret." And she walked away.

Barret glanced down. "Aw shit…"

/

Neither Cid nor Barret had any dry clothes to wear, having washed them in the bathtub last night. They were still hanging over the curtain railing, damp but clean. Cloud hadn't had chance to do the same, having collapsed from exhaustion waiting for his roommates to finish in the tub. As a result his bed sheets were smudged with the grime from his clothes and he had no desire to climb back into them. For this he volunteered to venture into town and get clothing and food.

"Can yer feel the cold at all?" Cid asked, stood by the open window smoking as Cloud pulled on his boots. Even the fresh air drifting through the small gap was enough to chill Cid to the bones through the bed sheet he had thrown over his shoulders.

"Yeah," Cloud answered, following Cid's line of sight to his bare arms. "I guess it doesn't affect me as much as you."

"It's the Mako," Barret explained simply from under his comforter. He pulled it away to expose his dark face. "Don't be too long, spikey."

Cloud merely nodded once and left the room. When the door had closed behind him, Barret drew the duvet back over his head as Red padded over to Cid and sat down beside him.

"He may be least affected by the cold, but he is most affected by Aerith's passing," the hound said wisely, gazing at the door as though he could see the blond. A short bout of respectful silence followed his words as the two men contemplated the ordeal they had come through.

"It's gonna take everyone a while to get over it," Barret said softly.

Cid blinked, turning his eyes to the white town outside the window.

She probably would have loved it here.

/

Nearly two hours later Cloud returned with various bags in hand for his teammates. Cid pulled on a new pair of combats, stripping his belt from his damp pair to secure them as Cloud tossed a few food packets onto Barret's bed and left again to drop off the girls' items. Cid dug into his bag and pulled on a warm turtleneck, a little unaccustomed to the snug-fit but enjoying the warm material all the same. He noticed something at the bottom of the bag and pulled out a white scarf very much like his old one. He grinned.

Minutes later, both properly dressed for the freezing temperatures, Barret and Cid stepped out into the snow and ducked simultaneously as a snowball soared over their heads. Kids were playing about, tourists were chatting all around and locals smiled kindly at everyone. It didn't seem right. Yesterday didn't seem real.

Cid dug his hands into his pilot jacket and tucked his chin into his scarf, unable to bask in the friendly atmosphere even just a little. He and Barret found themselves wandering aimlessly, exploring the town of Icicle Inn and the attractions and stores it boasted. They were both restless, unable to sit in their room despite needing the rest.

They stopped to grab a hot drink each from a beverage stall in the town center and sat down in a small group of snow-topped tables and chairs. They scraped it from their seats.

"Cid," Barret said as they watched the people around them, cradling their steaming drinks. "Do ya think… do ya think we can save the world?"

Cid's eyes followed a plump woman as she juggled three platters of wrapped sandwiches down a sloped pathway. "Don't know, to be honest," he admitted nonchalantly, his breath clouding before his lips. He brought the polystyrene cup to his mouth and sipped before adding, "but if we don't try we die anyway, right?"

Barret turned his dark eyes on Cid and considered him for a second. "Doesn't that scare ya?"

Cid paused before answering. "I don't think about it." It was true, he wouldn't let himself wallow in the woes of their mission. He sneaked a glance at his friend, taking notice of the lines creasing his brow. The big man was troubled, and Cid couldn't blame him.

"I am," Barret admitted, his deep voice low. He absently rubbed at his gun arm. "I'm scared I won't get to see Marlene again."

The pilot watched him a second more before the excited squeal of a woman caught his attention as she threw herself into the embrace of a man. It appeared to be a reunion, as they talked away animatedly, arms still around each other. They were oblivious. Completely ignorant of the Planet's danger.

"Do you ever regret joining us?"

Cid's attention was jerked back to Barret's question. He didn't even have to think about his answer. "Not for a second," he said resolutely.

A smirk flickered warmly across Barret's lips as he lifted his cup. "Somehow, I knew ya'd say that."

Cid mirrored his expression as he drank from his own cup. His eyes caught something familiar over Barret's shoulder and he lowered his drink to say, "Look who else is out and about."

Barret glanced over his shoulder as Vincent approached a small store and stepped inside, barely glancing at anything in the town square. The dark man turned back. "Never seen him without that cape before last night. Still looks fucking scary."

Cid drained his drink and crushed the cup, leaning back behind him to toss it into a trashcan. "He ain't so bad."

Barret gave him a look. "Yeah, well you're the only one he's ever said more than two words to." It was an exaggeration, but Barret got his point across.

"That's 'cause everyone loves me," Cid quipped, folding his arms contently.

"After talkin' to people in your town that's not hard to believe," Barret said, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "They fuckin' worship ya."

Cid caught sight of the store door opening and Vincent stepped out. He paused beyond the threshold and, as though sensing the pilot's eyes, met his gaze across the square. Even from the distance Cid could make out the vivid red of his irises. The pilot raised a hand and gestured for him to come over. He half expected the man to ignore him, so found himself quite surprised when Vincent began to make his way over. Maybe he valued manners more than they all thought.

"Take a seat," Cid told him cordially as Vincent came to a stop behind the chair beside Barret. "We won't be leavin' until tomorrow so kick back."

Vincent lowered himself in the chair as Cid called to the beverage stall for another hot drink and rummaged in his combat pockets for gil. Half a minute later the pilot sat the steaming drink on the table before Vincent. He looked down at it as though it might tell him just why he had actually sat down instead of walking away.

Cid settled comfortably into his seat. "Never actually been here before," he said conversationally, glancing around at the buildings lining the borders of the square. "Passed over plenty of times in my plane." Owch, thinking of the Tiny Bronco moored in the sea still brought a bitter jolt.

Vincent's eyes flickered over the rooftops. "Perhaps after our mission you can return," he said, meeting Cid's gaze again.

"It'll be the first stop in my new plane," the pilot affirmed with a smile, longing for the time when he could lose himself in his hanger, constructing a new aircraft from blueprint to model. "Bet yer kid would love it here," he directed at Barret, who was staring at Vincent from the corners of his eyes like he'd never met him before. Cid bit his lips to suppress a smirk. It occurred to him the rest of Avalanche had probably never seen Vincent's full face before; or had never taken notice. Barret looked suspiciously shocked… like Vincent had stolen the face from some innocent model and had the audacity to walk around wearing it. Cid had to try really hard not to laugh.

"Yeah," Barret said, turning his eyes to Cid. "She would." He drew another side-long glance at Vincent.

"Heads up!" A young voice called.

Snow exploded on their table, spraying them with cold icy shrapnel. Miraculously, Vincent's untouched drink remained standing.

"Sorry!" Came the voice.

The three men observed each other's snow-speckled appearances in a state of mild shell-shock before Cid jerked his head around to find the culprit.

"Hey! Watch it!" He called angrily, using the back of his hand to wipe the snow from his face. "Fuckin' punk," he muttered under his breath.

Barret guffawed. "It was worth getting pelted by a snowball just to see your face. Looked like someone had just grabbed ya by the balls and squeezed."

Cid opened his mouth for a retort but found a burst of laughter escaping instead. "Couldn't have been as bad as yer face – yer still makin' it!"

"Fuck you!" Barret laughed, reaching for the ground and scooping up a ball of snow.

Cid barely had time to raise his arms as the snow splattered against his forearms and Barret gave a loud hoot. Cold drops fell down the turtleneck to his collarbone but he barely noticed as he reached back on two chair legs to scrape a ball of snow from the table behind him. Barret took the opportunity to push the chair with his foot and send Cid falling backwards with a "whoa!" He landed in the snow with a FWUMP. Someone laughed in the background.

"Just yer wait – we share a room," Cid threatened, feeling the cold snow on the back of his head. He climbed to his feet and righted the chair, sitting back down as Barret smirked at him. Cid brushed off the back of his hair. "That was cold." He lifted his gaze as someone walked past to another table and found Vincent watching him warmly, his expression soft, having been amused by the their antics. Cid gave a lopsided grin in light of the humor and noticed the drink. "That coffee's not poisoned, Vince."

The man looked down at the drink as though it had just appeared there. He seemed to contemplate the hot beverage before saying, "if your juvenile behavior is anything to go by you might be wrong."

Barret looked indignant for a second before catching onto Vincent's subtle wit. He cracked a grin. "You cheeky bastard."

Cid smirked, holding the red-eyed man's gaze as he finally took a sip from the cup.

A few minutes later they left the table, managing to convince Vincent he had nothing else to do but join them. He was hesitant, almost reluctant, but he relented to Cid's request. That itself was a pretty big achievement, and Cid couldn't help feeling glad Vincent chose companionship over solitude. He enjoyed the man's company, despite his tendency to say absolutely fuck all.

Barret's phone began ringing from his pocket. He pulled it out and answered. "Tif? Ya sound like shit… Damn. How long? Well shit, that'll set us back… Nah, can't be helped." He stopped walking as he listened. "Yeah, sure. Bye." He stuck his phone back in his pants and turned to Cid. "Tifa and Yuffie've come down with pretty bad colds."

"Shit, how long's it take for a cold to run its course?" Cid asked, clueless. He couldn't remember the last time he had come down with anything.

"A few days?" Barret guessed.

"Can we afford to wait that long?"

"We're gonna have to, can't leave 'em behind." Barret dug into his pocket and pulled out some gil, counting it. "Tifa asked me to get 'em some medicine, so I'll see ya later." He dropped the money back into his pants pocket and started walking away from Cid and Vincent. "By the way, when you head home, bring beer. Lots of it." He disappeared down a cobbled side street.

Cid turned to Vincent, hands in his pockets. "Yer hungry?"

"…No."

Cid eyed him suspiciously. "When's the last time yer ate anythin'?"

Vincent looked at him, probably a little indignant by the pilot's prying. But considering what happened last time, Cid's question wasn't out of line. "I don't know."

The pilot jerked his head in a direction. "C'mon, I'll buy dinner. I'm starvin'." He started to walk but Vincent didn't follow. "What's wrong?"

The gunman hesitated before answering. "I'm returning to my room. I'll get something there."

Cid felt a little disappointed, not to mention confused. "…Okay. Just…" He rummaged for his wallet and withdrew a few gil notes. He walked back to Vincent, grabbed the man's hand and slapped the money in his palm. "Don't insult me by refusin' it. I know yer ain't got any."

Vincent's eyes flitted over the money in his hand before finding Cid's gaze. An expression of uncertainty ghosted over his flawless features, something conflicting swirling in his eyes. He didn't seem to know what to say.

Cid slapped his arm amicably and began walking away. "If yer change yer mind I'll be piggin' out somewhere."

Vincent watched him until he had disappeared from view.

/

He found a hearty pub in the town center that served some of the best meat Cid had tasted, even compared to Stony Willows. He indulged in starters, mains and pudding, deciding that if they weren't able to stop Sephiroth at least he could summon up the taste of the apple tart for his last memory. He'd go down smiling.

Daylight faded early in the North at this time of year, so the sky was almost black when he left over an hour later, yet it was too early to retire to the inn. He found himself wandering the lamp-lit streets, watching people still bustling about. His only company was his mind, and it seemed adamant it wanted to fixate on Vincent, even when he tried forcing something else into it. He was beginning to find this admiration of the gunman a little uncomfortable – in his own mind, damnit!

He found himself entering the town square again from a small street of cheerfully lit shops and noticed the one Vincent had walked into earlier. He approached it and read the name. It was a weapons shop. Cid entered out of boredom.

The bell above his head twinkled, alerting the shop owner to his presence. The mid-age, balding man smiled kindly as he appeared from behind his counter, a box of ammunition in one hand and a single bullet pinched between the fingers of the other. "Can I help, sir?"

Cid shook his head. "Nah, I'm just…" He caught the detail of the bullet, recognizing the shape. "That for the long haired man that came in today? With the red eyes?"

The old man tilted his head inquisitively. "Why, yes. He placed an order for some highly unique shells."

Having quite an interest in firearms himself Cid knew the look of Cerberus's bullets quite well. "He paid for it yet?" He questioned, wondering how the gunman was going to do so without currency.

The bald man gave a slight frown, so Cid explained he was a friend. The owner put the single bullet in the box and closed it. "No. Actually, he asked if I could put them aside, and if there was anywhere that employed a temporary monster hunter. I assume the poor fellow's broke and needs the cash to pay for his bullets. I just hope he's got enough left for the job."

Wouldn't slow him down, anyway, Cid thought, recalling how sharp his gauntlet was. "Ah hell, I'll pay for 'em, how much?" Damn, ain't like me to be so generous. Fuckin' pretty boy manipulatin' me with that face. This fills my kind quota for the whole freakin' year.

The owner looked mildly surprised. "Well, aren't you a good friend." He reeled off the price from a small invoice sheet, and Cid paid.

"When he comes in for 'em, tell him he owes the Captain lunch," Cid said, refusing to take the box the owner held out for him.

Smiling, the old man put them under the counter. "Will do."

/

The last spend of the night for Cid was for a six pack of beer and two new packets of cigarettes, one of which he opened on his way back to the inn. He passed a single tree in the middle of a small plaza and found himself looking up at the bare branches, wondering what sentiment it had to the town in order for it to remain standing in an otherwise tree-less area.

Looking around, he realized he had wandered into the less populated and busy side of town, the quiet residential areas that only gleam the distant sounds of the town center's chatter. Where was the inn, again?

The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow drew into earshot and Cid turned to watched Cloud emerge from a small stone alleyway into the light of a streetlamp. He had bought himself a winter jacket, probably playing it safe even if he didn't feel the cold like normal people. His hands were in his jacket pockets and he wore an expression of a man lost in thought, until he noticed Cid.

"Hey, tell me that's the way to the inn," Cid said, motioning in the direction Cloud had come from.

The younger blond approached slowly and shook his head. "Sorry, I've been walking for a few hours now."

Cid sighed. He lifted the six-pack dangling from his forefinger. "Got a date with Barret," he explained. "Heard the girls've got a cold."

Cloud nodded, his chin disappearing behind the collar of his winter jacket. "Of all the things to slow us down."

Whatever Cid was about to say next was interrupted by the creak of an unoiled door. In the silence of the plaza it seemed twice as loud. Both pairs of blue eyes turned to the open front door of an old, dark house. There were no lights on inside at all.

Cloud walked up to it and glanced into the black shadows. "Hello?" He called, gripping the door as it began to swing slowly on its ancient hinges. No one answered.

Cid took a drag on his cigarette as he watched. "I don't think anyone lives there," he said, blowing out smoke. "Just close the door and let's go."

The ex-soldier didn't seem to hear him. Something inside the building had gained his attention, but nothing Cid could see or hear. Cloud released the door and disappeared inside.

"Ah shit," Cid sighed, shaking his head. He took a last smoke on his cigarette and then stomped it out in the snow, but paused. He remembered, in what seemed like a lifetime ago, Aerith telling him to fold the dog end in a tissue she had given him. Cid pulled out the receipt from the store, picked up his cigarette end and folded it up. Then he followed Cloud through the door.

His eyes took a few seconds to adjust while he stopped on the other side of the threshold. He stepped down a set of steps into the large, circular room, panning his gaze across the various strange instruments and equipment that had long since been outdated and replaced with upgraded technology. Just a quick glance at them told Cid they were over twenty years old at least. They should have been in a museum.

His attention turned to a large model of the Planet stood between two machines and he gave it a careful push. Cobwebs pulled taut as it rotated slowly on the support axis.

"No one's been here in a long time," Cid commented.

Cloud had stopped before a large, old oak desk at the far end of the room, looking down at the dust-encrusted surface. He turned to the antiquated machines along the wall by Cid and noticed a monitor screen. Something must have urged him to push one of the console buttons.

The crackle of the monitor drew Cid's focus from the globe as a picture faded into view. Both he and Cloud watched as the form of a man swam into focus. He was wearing a white lab coat and a pair of glasses that hid his eyes. His mustache was cut in an old style; it was likely this house belonged to him if the style was anything to go by.

The man moved from the camera allowing them to see the room and walked to stand beside a young woman. She looked between mid-twenties and early thirties; it was hard to tell with the quality of the video. She was wearing a long silken dress with another garment wrapped around her waist, and hair almost as long as Tifa's.

"Camera's ready," the man told her, his voice distorted slightly through the old audio speakers. She nodded, and he said in a clear voice, "So, Ifalna, please tell us about the Cetra."

The woman turned her eyes to the camera. "Two thousand years ago, our ancestors, the Cetra, heard the cries of the Planet. The first people to ever discover the Planet's wounds were the Cetra at the Knowlespole…"

The man had folded his arms as she began, but he gesticulated as he next asked, "Tell us, where is the land known as 'Knowlespole'?"

Ifalna brushed a strand of hair from her shoulder. "Knowlespole refers to this area. After the discovery of the Planet's wounds the Cetra then began a 'Planet-reading'."

"What exactly does 'Planet-reading' entail?"

The woman tilted her head, contemplating her words. "I can't explain it very well, but it's like having a conversation with the Planet. It said something fell from the sky… making a large wound." She lowered her gaze to the floor. "Thousands of Cetra pulled together, trying to heal the Planet. But due to the severity of the wound, it was only able to heal itself over many ye…."

The video became increasingly distorted due to age, until both picture and sound were too warped to understand. Static jerked about on the monitor until the video tried to realign itself. After a few seconds it returned, jumping occasionally before settling down.

"…Yes. The energy that was needed withered away the land… then the Planet… The Planet tried to persuade the Cetra to leave the Knowlespole, but…" She appeared distant, unsettled.

"Ifalna, let's take a break…"

But the woman shook her head and continued, going on to explain how something appeared, something sinister. She called it 'the crisis from the sky'; the one who injured the Planet. "It looks like our dead mothers… our dead brothers... Showing us specters of their past. It brought with it a virus. The Cetra were attacked by the virus and went mad… transforming into monsters…" She pushed the heel of a palm to her face, distraught by this strange retelling. "Then… just as it had with the Cetra at the Knowlespole… it approached the other Clans… infecting them all with the virus…"

The man moved behind her and placed his hands comfortingly on her shoulders. "You don't look well… Let's call it a day…"

The screen went black.

Cid and Cloud exchanged expressions.

"… That woman. She was a Cetra…" Cloud speculated.

"The Planet has an injury it's still healing?" Cid ran along his train of thought. "The Crater." He paused and eyed Cloud. "What made yer come in here?"

The younger blond looked confused. "I don't know, I just got this feeling…" He noticed the look Cid gave him. "Not like when I can hear Sephiroth… it was different." He turned his eyes back to the monitor, where the names of three files blared in block font. "'What is Weapon'…" Cloud mouthed, reading. He used the trackball to click on it. Another, similar, video appeared on the monitor.

"Ifalna, can you comment on the thing called 'Weapon'?" The man was stood by the console this time, looking back at the woman who was stood by the desk. She nodded.

"The one the Professor mistook for a Cetra was Jenova… 'The Crisis from the sky'. The Planet knew it had to destroy it, for, you see, as long as Jenova exists the Planet will never be able to fully heal itself."

"Jenova…" Cloud whispered, his lips parted in absolute focus on the video.

"Back then, Weapon was an actual weapon the Planet created of its own will?" The man asked.

"Yes, but there's no record of Weapon ever being used, because a small number of surviving Cetra managed to defeat Jenova and confine it. The Planet had created Weapon in its defense, however it was no longer necessary to use it."

"So Weapon no longer exists?"

"Weapon cannot vanish," Ifalna told him. "It remains asleep somewhere on the Planet. Even though Jenova is confined, there may come a time when it comes back to life, and Weapon will fulfill its duty. The Planet has not yet fully healed, it still watches Jenova…"

"Where is Weapon?"

The woman turned away. "I don't know. I can't hear the voices of the Planet very well… Times have changed…" She rubbed her eyes, either tiredly or in frustration.

"Thank you, Ifalna, that will be all for today…"

The screen faded once again as Cloud blinked, processing the information.

"So it's true," he said in a quiet tone. "Jenova isn't a Cetra. It really did come from the skies…"

Cid's eyebrows disappeared beneath his goggles. "What?! Jenova came from space?"

Cloud nodded. "Just before we met you in Rocket Town, we had a run in with Sephiroth. He spoke of the Reunion and referred to Jenova as the 'calamity from the skies'. Until then we thought Jenova – and Sephiroth – were Cetra. But he's not, he's something else entirely…"

Cid stared at him. "An alien? Are you shittin' me?!"

Cloud turned his eyes on Cid's darker ones. "Still want to be the first man in space?"

Closing his gaping mouth, Cid gave him a look. "Cocky kid. But seriously, all this time and Sephiroth was actually half alien…? I've seen and heard some pretty fucked up things on this mission, but that takes the tea and biscuit."

Cloud gave a nod, agreeing. He looked back at the screen, once again baring the file names. "But this Weapon the woman was talking about… it must still be asleep somewhere."

"Kinda scary thought," Cid muttered cynically.

"There's one more file," Cloud said, moving the trackball to highlight the last one, titled Confidential. Two more files appeared after he had clicked. 'Daughter's Record: 10th Day After Birth' was selected.

The monitor gave a fuzzy line of static, but remained black as audio rattled through the old speakers. The woman's voice came through, though there was affection in her tone that was absent in the previous videos.

"What are you doing, Pro – I mean, Honey?"

"Oh, I'm thinking of taping it, but the video's not working," came the man's voice with equal amount of fondness.

The woman's next words crackled and were distorted, but the man's reply was clearer.

"No, that's not it. I'm going to record our beautiful daughter. But first we have to figure out a name! We can take video later."

"I've already decided!" The woman exclaimed excitedly. "If it's a girl then it'll be Aerith. That's that!"

The delighted reply of the man was unheard as Cloud and Cid slowly turned to stare at each other in complete shock. The video gave another crackle and ended.

"This is gettin' a little too coincidental…" Cid said carefully, slowly, eyeing Cloud as though it was his doing.

"They were Aerith's parents…" Cloud stated softly. "Her real mother…" He quickly clicked the second file, 'Daughter's Record: 20th Day After Birth'.

The video was operational for this one. The man was still in his lab coat as Ifalna approached him, conversing about their growing baby girl. It was strange to watch, seeing such a scene from over twenty years ago – of Aerith's parents, no less.

They embraced in the video, a touching scene, until the sound of loud, consistent banging on the front door broke them up. Before either of them had taken a step towards it, it flew open and a squad of Soldier filed in, weapons in hand.

"It's them!" Ifalna shrieked. The man stepped protectively in front of her.

"Heh, heh, heh… I've been searching for you, Ifalna," another lab-coated man drawled as he entered last. "Or should I say, Cetra." He came to a stop before the two. "Long time no see, Professor Gast."

"Hojo," Professor Gast hissed. "How did you know?"

Hojo latched his arms behind his back confidently. "I had to turn over a stone or two to find you. Two years I waited, that's how much I wanted this sample…" He gave a sadistic chuckle.

"No…" Gast looked horrified. "Not Aerith…"

"Aerith, hm? Nice name…" His voice was dripping with derision.

"I've severed all ties with Shinra. Hojo, please leave…."

But they didn't leave. No amount of pleading would shift the scientist, not even when Ifalna went down on her knees to beg. Hojo cared only for the samples of her and her daughter. Cid and Cloud watched as Hojo ordered a guard to take out the camera, but even after visual loss the microphone continued to record the sounds of a struggle, finally ending with Hojo's snide comment, "Hm? A video. 'The Ancients?' 'What is Weapon?'… A mountain of treasure, thank you Professor…"

It ended.

The two blonds left the empty house a few minutes later, tossing around revelations and the content of the videos, overloaded on new information. Cloud's mind was clearly reeling from what he had just watched, being unresponsive to some of Cid's questions and too deeply lost in his own.

The pilot returned to the inn on his own, after Cloud decided to wander a little longer with his thoughts. Once in his room Cid dropped the beer pack on Barret's bed, the owner of which looked at him from under the sheets.

"Fuckin' got a cold," the man moaned angrily, his voice thick and bunged.

Cid, having been ready to explain what he'd just seen, paused, shrugged, and said, "More beer for me, then."

/