Beyond Paradise II

Disclaimer: I do not own Yuffie, Vincent, or anything/anybody else in this fiction, they belong to Square Enix. I also don't own previously established fictitious characters such as Moira, Zeb, or Jethro. They were created by the original fan fic's author, tolerant. Though, I DO claim a childish, unpatented ownership over my original/semi-original characters--Cleon, Questa, Max, Rakk, and Havern Glaire. And the recurring smoking guard. He's tiiight. This is not an "official" sequel by the original author, more like a tribute by me since the original has been discontinued, unfortunately. I am not affiliated with tolerant in any way, shape, or form (other than being a fan, of course).

Author's Note: I don't know why, but I think this chapter has sort of a "Sink to the Bottom With You" feel. I dunno if that's good or bad, but uh… well, enjoy. :P


Things not what they used to be
Missing one inside of me
Deathly lost, this can't be real
Cannot stand this hell I feel
Emptiness is filling me
To the point of agony
Growing darkness taking dawn
I was me, but now he's gone

Fade to Black
--James Hetfield

- Chapter 31: Remember Tomorrow

Since the meeting ended, the hideout of Norté Magus, Incorporated had quieted down to a crawl. The bulk of the Mages and Turks had turned in for the night in anticipation for the next day's preparations. It was agreed upon that the following morning into the following afternoon would be spent getting all teams into position, then once everybody had gotten into place, they would simultaneously strike their targets, but a few hours after midnight to decrease their chances of overwhelming confrontations.

The downpour continued it's barrage from the blackened skies above, but it was curiously comforting and induced an oddly reassuring aura of tranquility about the rain-slicked courtyard. With a long-awaited calm finally reached after such a chaotic, arduous day, the few remaining coalition members still awake now lounged across the porch and in the various living rooms of each apartment to reflect, cavort, and otherwise make the most of what could possibly be the very last enjoyable night of some of their lives. Such a mentality failed to hamper the consumption of alcohol though, and the railings and end tables were already littered with empty bottles of various shapes and sizes.

After conversing with Yuffie about the ramblings of a certain eternally-irritable long-haired NMI, Tifa bade the exhausted little ninja a good night and left her to sit on the chair she had pulled up beside Vincent's couch. The raven-haired martial artist made her way to the other end of the porch, maneuvering past the scattered, half-inebriated Mages lazily strewn about. As she passed by, she sensed the wandering eyes of the gang members behind her, quietly examining her scantily-clad backside. She caught what sounded like the faint whispers of a few male gang members sharing something about 'tapping that' in hushed tones, and even what she could swear sounded like one of the female ones. She found herself resisting the greatest urge to just spin around and deliver a rather perturbed rejoinder along the lines of 'enjoying the show?!', but lamented instead at her choice of skimpy attire.

Of all the weeks to wear this stupid outfit… she mused with a sigh, referring to such an adverse turn of events that left her with no time for a proper change of clothing.

She had always worn her trademark bartending ensemble to her advantage to increase the tips back at the 7th Heaven Bar. The drunken patrons ate up the ruse like candy, but once in awhile it would work a little too well; nonetheless, it was never anything her dexterously adroit martial arts self-defense training could not easily handle. Though the restrained catcalls of her newfound allies paled in comparison to the disgustingly grabby advances of Jethro and Don Corneo--it was only natural for a group of youths to gawk at an attractive woman, anyway--it was enough to warrant a contemplation of an adjustment to her wardrobe in the future. Maybe something still in black that actually covered her midriff properly but still offered the comfort of a sleeveless design. The miniskirt would definitely have to go, though.

With another sigh, she looked down at herself as she pressed on, pessimistically examining her overly-revealed features and planning which regions would get shielded and which would not, but then gasped as soon as she caught wind of what the blue-tinted teenagers must have been ogling on about; wearing white T-shirts in cold, extremely rainy weather is a bad idea.

Oh great…! she huffed while folding her arms tightly across her chest, trying as hard as she could to make it look like she was just crossing them to warm herself from the cold. She had just met these people and could not have felt more embarrassed. At least one thing worked in her favor, though. Thank goodness for thick bras…

"Here," she suddenly heard, looking up to see Cid holding out his flight jacket in front of him for her, "Ya look like ya need it more than I do."

Tifa gave a timid, appreciative smile. "Thanks." She took the proffer without hesitation and speedily donned the coat, lightly chuckling at the delightful fragrance of cigarette grime and month-old aircraft oil. Beggars can't be choosers…

"It suits you, my dear." she heard the unmistakable voice of Jethro offer behind her, alluding to the fact that the sky captain's jacket was obviously too large for the lean bartender. He was sitting on a deck chair against the wall with his arms folded and one leg crossed over the other, complete with that same deceptively charming smirk painted across his face.

"Thanks." she forced out somewhat lightheartedly as she pulled the flaps closer over herself.

Tifa then turned back and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the railing. The awning above extended just far enough to protect from most of the rain. Her sable hair was starting to get dampened and droopy from the moisture, but it was bearable. She found herself staring at her two slumbering friends across the courtyard, Vincent laying peacefully on the outdoor sofa, contrasting with Yuffie's awkward sprawl on the chair she planted on the head side of her gunslinger companion. As she observed the duo, she laughed inside at the irony of the scene, recollecting back to the first night when they had all reunited at her and Cloud's house in Kalm a month after Meteorfall.

She remembered it perfectly when she had walked upstairs the next morning to wake the others for breakfast, starting at Cid and Barret's room, the one closest to the stairs. They had shot up as soon as she opened the ingress a crack and the delicious whiff of bacon and eggs spilled into the room. Before she even opened the door the whole way, the two men were both already halfway across the floor, shoving and pushing each other to be the first to make it to the kitchen. She smiled warmly at the memory.

Next was Yuffie's room. She had knocked lightly, knowing that such a rambunctious teenager would barely put up with such a rude awakening. She had called her name and knocked a few more times, but when she failed to hear an answer, she decided to peak in, and was surprised to find the bed empty. The covers and pillows were typically strewn about, so she just assumed that the little ninja had already awakened and scampered off to do whatever Yuffie does, maybe do some morning Tai Chi or, jokingly, 'hunt around' for more Gil and Materia.

She then turned around and stepped across the hall to the final door, the door to the room of Vincent Valentine. She remembered how she had raised her fist to knock, but to her disbelief, she was actually hesitant to, at first. She was more shocked as to why she had felt so initially tentative than the fact that she was waking up the most haunting hero in the gang, so she laughed it off because he was her friend, anyway, and lightly knocked on the ingress. She waited for an answer, which immediately came in the form of what sounded like a tap of a chair leg hitting the wooden floor, followed by the sound of calm footsteps approaching that seemed to be in no hurry. The knob turned, the door swayed open, and then she found herself staring up into the infinite void of Vincent's blank ruby hues. It was not the first time that she saw Vincent without his hallmark red cape--they had all already stayed in several inns during the Jenova War, anyway--but she still found it rather out of the ordinary.

He had thanked her for informing him of breakfast being ready, but oddly not the fact that she had cooked the breakfast. She would later find out that he had not even eaten that morning at all, which explained why. She smiled at Vincent but took a quick glance behind him when a moving lump in his bed caught her eye. Her jaw immediately dropped once she realized that she was looking at Yuffie as the young princess groaned and pulled the blanket tighter over herself while rolling to the side to present her back to the doorway.

Her mouth still held agape, she darted her gaze back up to the leather-clad marksman, who was staring back down at her with absolutely no emotion in his face. He simply strolled past her and quietly made his way down the stairs without even giving any explanation whatsoever. Time would prove the true explanation, but the irony she found humor in was the complete reversal in the relationship between the ninja and the gunslinger. Just a fortnight ago, Yuffie would have nothing less than the better sleeping arrangement, but this time around, she was on the chair and Vincent was on the couch, much to the acceptance of the teenager.

She snapped back to the present and glanced beside her to see Cid joining her at the rail while smoking another cigarette. "Hey, Cid," Tifa asked while keeping her gaze on the two, "Do you, um, do you notice anything… different about those two? Since the last time we saw them?"

Cid raised his eyebrow. "Y'know, come 'ta think've it, they do seem a little… different. My god, seems just like yesterday they were hatin' each others guts, right?"

"Yeah… remember when those two first met in the basement of Shinra Mansion? …What was it that was the first thing Yuffie said to him?"

"Somethin' about him bein' too depressin', and then she got' all pissed off when he left the basement with us and joined the crew. The weeks leadin' up 'ta Northern Crater were no picnic, either. Remember how she was always makin' rude comments about him when he strayed off to the side durin' our huddles? And how she always seemed 'ta try 'ta pick a fight with him for some damn thing?"

"They've had a chance to get to know each other better these past few weeks. They must have found some sort of connection… as kinda crazy as that may sound."

"Well, one thing's for sure. Old Vince must have the patience of a saint! He's been the only one 'ta ever put up with that 'lil brat without crackin' after 5 consecutive seconds of listenin' to her. Still, not even Vincent deserves that kinda torture, maybe we should--"

"Nah," Tifa interjected, "Leave them be. They seem to be getting along fine."

"…But look at 'em, Vincent's too messed up to even get up. Maybe he's trapped and needs help to get away from Yuffie--"

"Cid!" she stopped him with a giggle.

"…Yeah well, I guess it makes it easier for the team overall. Still can't understand that shit, though. They're polar opposites."

"Well, opposites do attract…" she said with a knowing smirk, remembering all the taunting conversations she had with the ninja concerning her and her speculative relationship with Vincent. In all honesty, it started out as a joke on Tifa's part just to poke fun and flush her younger compatriot, but watching the two now, her mind wondered if anything could have possibly developed between them these past couple of weeks, particularly on Yuffie's part. She was just a blossoming little girl, after all. And to think… Vincent, of all people…?

"What the hell's so funny?" the unknowing Cid queried of Tifa's distant smile.

"…Funny?" she asked, her contemplations halted. She decided to slide the subject, knowing Cid's fatherly instincts would disapprove of the speculations, whether purely humorous in nature or not. "O-oh um, maybe we're just thinking about it too hard."

"Yeah, 'prolly. Whad'da you think, Jethro?

"…Jethro?" Tifa echoed. They both turned to the blonde ex-SOLDIER and realized that he was too caught up in watching Madison of the Turks wander into a distant doorway. "Jethrooo?"

"…Huh? Sorry, my dear, I was miles away."

"I'll bet." Tifa remarked as she rolled her eyes, inwardly gagging the idea of Jethro going after his next victim.

"What were you saying again?"

Cid blew out his smoke. "Askin' what'cha think about those two over there."

Jethro merely took a short glance at the couple, his mind more interested in a certain sable-haired Turk. "Well," he started as he inched towards the door Madison entered through, "Since you asked… if that keeps up, I foresee a future romantic entanglement that may or may not end in a restraining order."

"Yeah..." Cid drawled absentmindedly. That lasted until the words' meaning finally registered. "...Wait, WHAT?!"

--

"Easy now," Madison said as she helped Elena onto the bed. She then turned to the doorway to look at the young NMI gang member that had led the small group of Turks to the cozy little room. "Thank you."

"Yeah, no prob." he replied with juvenile apathy, fists shoved into his pockets. "Ya need anything, just ask around. Got coffee in the living room around the corner, bathroom's there, too… oh, and uh, sorry none of us can heal her. After the battles, our magics completely tapped out, we're all exhausted. Only one that never seems 'ta run outta juice is old Cleon, but the gods be damned if you can ever get that lunatic 'ta even listen'na you in the first place."

"It's fine." Madison reassured with her cheerful smile. "You've all done so much already, we couldn't ask you for anything more."

And with that, he gave a nod and disappeared from the doorway and down the corridor. Reno, Rude, and Madison looked down at Elena, who already began to drift off to sleep, her left hand planted over her side.

"You need anything?" Madison asked, seated at the edge of the bed.

Elena shook her head weakly with a tiny smile. "I just feel like getting some shut eye." she replied in a quiet voice.

Madison nodded, stood up, and looked at Reno and Rude. "At least one of you's gotta watch over her all the time."

"Yeah, yeah," Reno interjected with a dismissive wave, "Moira and the Dreamland."

"Alright," Madison said as she blithely rolled her eyes.

"Rude can take the first watch." Reno volunteered. "I'll take the third, and you can take the second, 'kay?"

Madison stifled a chuckle and shook her head at the absurdity of it all. "Okay. I'm gonna go see how the others are doing, I'll be back in a bit."

Madison exited the tiny room and started down the hallway of the building. For the hideout of a bunch of teenaged street punks, she had to admit that the interior was surprisingly inviting, with it's Victorian-design architecture, it's warm, homely earth tones, alluring carpeting, and smiling blonde men.

"Jethro?!" Madison gasped while regaining her balance from the jump she had. The ex-SOLDIER caught her completely by surprise as she turned the corner of the hall. "What are you doing here?!"

"Nothing, my dear. Just… getting familiar with my new surroundings."

"Oh, right. Yeah, there's not much around here. It's just a couple rooms down this hall and the living room, stairs, and front door behind you. Not really…" she knitted her brows, noticing a strange expression on Jethro's face. "…Not really much around here at all."

"By the way, I never got a chance to thank you… for saving my life. Thank you."

"Oh, right, it was nothing, really…"

Jethro smirked at her discomfort. She hid it quite well behind a professional and well-spoken demeanor, but she was faltering, and he slowly began strolling towards her with each passing sentence. "No, that was a very brave thing you did."

"All I really did was administer a potion to your wound." she said with humility, adding a smile for good measure. Though, the smile was forced. "I mean, anyone could have done it." Despite his humble topic of choice, Madison could not help but sense a more furtive agenda poorly hidden underneath his soft, almost timid veneer.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." he said slyly with a crafty smirk, a surreptitiousness in his movements as he took another faintly drawn out, somewhat more noticeable pace towards the female Turk.

"What…" Madison almost stuttered while leaning back at his advance. She was having trouble keeping eye contact with him, relegating to fixing her gaze at the collar of his jacket. "What are you talking about?"

"I think you know precisely what I'm talking about."

Madison felt the wall on her back stopping her retreat. "J-Jethro, I--"

He unhooked his arms from behind his back and slowly leaned forward, resting his palms against the wall on either side of the sable-haired Turk, effectively locking her in. She pressed up against the surface, straying her head to the side as she just could not bring herself to look into the face of the blonde SOLDIER. She felt the fear building up in her chest, and her body was heating up like an oven on full blast.

"So many strong men in your little business-suited club." he suddenly remarked, causing Madison to dart her eyes sideways to lock with his very close Mako-infused hues out of reflex. "It leads one to believe that a fine specimen such as yourself is… off the market." he stated while using hs thumb to gently push away a stray, jet-black bang covering her face before slowly running his hand down her cheek to her neck.

Madison gave a little yelp and pushed his arm away with one hand, and instinctively threw a fist towards his face using her other. His fingers caught around her wrist with lightning speed and she suddenly felt her heart racing a mile a minute as he held her arm up above her head, his steely orbs laughing at her misfortunate position. Madison's free hand moved to scratch his grip off, but his own free limb took hers and held it away.

Jethro chuckled as he leaned towards her, head tilting to the side in amusement. "Maybe not…?"

Madison's worried panting intensified as she felt his breath lightly caressing her cheek. His face was a mere inch away from hers, and she could see the alluring glow in his blue Mako eyes. Her chest was beating fiercely with all trepidation now, and her blood was boiling like an inferno. Despite such sheer terror gripping tight, deep down, she strangely felt all of it rather intoxicating.

The sinister twinkle in Jethro's eyes intensified, finding much humor in how similarly this was playing out to the stint he had with the young princess of Wutai many days before. All that was missing was a dramatic cue to her rescue and it would parallel quite interestingly.

"Hands off the merchandise, SOLDIER boy." a familiar voice threatened from further up the hall in simultaneous time with an electrical crackle.

Speak of the devil…

They both turned their heads and saw Reno and Rude standing by the doorway of Elena's room, the early brandishing his Electro-Mag Rod and the latter holding his seldom-glimpsed standard issue ShinRa pistol in plain sight. The blonde man stared at her saviors for what felt like an eternity before another smile crossed his lips and he let the sable-haired Turk go.

"Relax yourselves, gentlemen." he said coolly. "I didn't think she'd be so touchy on the subject."

"We're gonna let ya go this time, Jethro," the serious-faced Reno declared with a restrained fervor as he slowly batted his head from side to side, "But that's only cause we owe you one for savin' our asses back at the warehouse."

A flash of light reflected off of Rude's sunglasses as he raised his chin up. "So as of now, we're square, and you'd be wise to never lay a hand on her, or any other Turk like that ever again."

"Whatever you say," he buoyantly replied with a playful salute before flashing a grin to Madison, "Whatever you say." He finally ambled off down the corridor from which he came.

Reno and Rude traded a look, then the latter went back into the room to watch over Elena as the red-haired young man put his electrified night stick away and walked briskly up to Madison. "You alright?"

Madison blinked a couple of times before letting off a heavy exhale as if she had been holding her breath the entire time. "I'm fine."

"Some goddamn nerve he's got." Reno grumbled as he turned his head just in time to see Jethro disappear through the building's front door.

"Yeah…" Madison trailed off with her eyes transfixed on the open egress the blonde ex-SOLDIER walked through.

Reno looked back and lowered his brows in confusion, taken aback by her almost trance-like state. "Earth 'ta Madison? Hello?"

"Oh!" she winced. "Sorry."

"…Y'know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were caught up in staring at his ass as he left."

"What?"

"Guess somebody's got a 'lil crush." Reno teased in a mocking tone. "Twisted and wrong for all the weirdest, most backward reasons, but a crush nonetheless."

"Well," Madison started, realizing she was unable to stop herself, "He's… aggressive. I like that."

"You've gotta be kiddin' me."

"Seriously though, you can call me crazy…"

"You're crazy."

"…But, well, I find it attractive."

Reno thinned his eyes and tilted his head to the side. A little smile crossed his lips as he laid his elbow against the wall next to Madison in a flirtatious demeanor. "Really, now?"

"In attractive people, Reno."

"Oh." he said while immediately dropping his arm and straightening his face, pretending like it never happened. "Well, just watch yourself, Maddy. I'm not your dad or your brother or your uncle, so I can't tell ya what to do, but my advice is to just… watch yourself. He really looks like bad news."

"Yeah, thanks, Reno." she sighed before running her hand through her hair. Maybe it was the awkward silence between the two, but for some reason, she felt compelled to shed some insight to her views on such an unlikely prospect. "It's just that, well, all my life, men have been all nice and gentlemen-like towards me, but I could tell from experience and their looks that they're just feigning it to get after one thing."

"Er…"

"He's just… different. I don't know how to explain it, but there's just something about him that… I don't know. I really can't explain what I'm trying to say."

"Yeah, yeah, you don't have to. You see it all the time in movies." Reno crossed his arms and raised his face up into the air with his eyes closed in the most smug manner possible, as if he truly believed he knew what he was talking about. "Man likes girl. Girl doesn't like man because he's too fake. The process repeats over and over again throughout her life until girl gets unforgivably sick of it. Then one day, girl comes across new man that just gets right to the point. Girl likes new man because he's a bad boy and she secretly wants exactly what he wants, too…"

"Reno…"

"Girl and bad boy get to talkin'. There just so happens to be a big war going on while girl and bad boy get to talkin'. Things happen that make girl and bad boy become closer; girl saves bad boys life, bad boy saves girl's life, and pretty soon they start makin' moves at each other…"

"Reno…"

"Soon the war goes on full blast and girl can't help but spill her feelings to bad boy. Bad boy spills feelings to girl, regardless of how backwards and weird the pairing is. Girl and bad boy hook up because girl always wanted a bad boy in her life and the war was just the catalyst needed to cram those two together. And like the old saying goes, 'War times make for odd bed fellows--'"

"Reno!"

"Er, sorry."

Madison could not help but stifle a girlish giggle at the absurdity of her partner and friend's philosophy, despite her tendencies to maintain an adult and more mature semblance of leaned motherhood that made her seem venerably wise and quite old for her age, regardless of the fact that she was still, chronologically, at the beginning of her life. Though, Madison found herself silently consider Reno's words, thinking that due to a missed childhood and a difficult decade of teenage angst and personal loss, a fatal attraction to a scumbag like Jethro could possibly be interpreted by an inner desire to feel young again, a yearning compensation to fill the void in her life which caused her to feel alone in the world, though she hid this anxiety well by always cheerfully carrying out her duties.

Wishing to get back to a more important world of the here and now, the raven-haired Turk decided to dwell on all that later and glanced at her wristwatch. "Well," she started as she sprightly pushed forward from the wall they were both leaning back on. "I'm gonna go get some coffee. Wanna come with?"

"Sure, I'll need some for my watch, and Rude's got Elena covered, anyway." he said as they strolled down the hall towards the living room. Right before they entered the new space, Reno scratched his head and turned to Madison. "Hey, is it just me, or have you noticed anything goin' on between Rude and Elena?"

--

It had been a few hours since the meeting had ended, and the few people still awake were now good and intoxicated. The globular porch itself was nearly empty, save for a small area set up where Cid, Tifa, Questa, and Rakk sprawled upon chairs they had brought together. They had been discussing business matters, sharing possible plans and tactics they could utilize for their operations for the next day. So far, only common sense permeated their stratagems, so they relegated to lounging around and enjoying the frosty, midnight air while it lasted.

"But why Cleon?" Rakk finally asked Questa after giving the subject they had just been talking about a few minutes to sink in.

"I want a Mage to go with them." Questa began before she paused to imbibe some of her beverage. "I want NMI represented when they go and take these bastards down. They can't do this alone, but they can't have too many guys, either, so they need a lot of power packed into one package, and Cleon's the best we got left."

"But I can fight just as well as him. And my mental stability is fully intact. Sure you want the Whacko getting AVALANCHE's back?"

"You know just as well as I do he can handle his own. Yeah, he's just like, out there all the time, but you know how well he acts under pressure."

"'Pressure' isn't even in his dictionary. He's acts so well and calm under pressure because he totally ignores it. I've seen him ignore some crazy shit before, but today just took the cake."

"What?"

"I saw that kid bend down and tie his shoe in the middle of the street during a firefight… he did it like it was nothing! Like he forgot where he was or something, even with all those bullets whizzing around all over the place and everything! He's a trip, it's unreal. It's like, he's always in his own little world. Seriously, he's not really right in the head."

"I ain't gon' argue with ya there, but you of all people should know he's come through every time. Shit, Rakk, you're one of the guys that's known him the longest."

"Yeah… but that's not saying much. The guy never talks about himself, or like, anything for that manner. Sure, he does say something when you acknowledge him, but when he does speak, he's always got something angry to say… "

"But that don't detract from his efficiency as a fighter. Cleon's just a quiet giant who speaks with his fists, shouts with his gun, and soldiers when he's told to. That's all that matters."

"…He's not that tall, I'm bigger than him. And what are you talking about, he doesn't use a gun… you just took that from that TV show the other night. Stop trying to sound like Max…"

"Irregardless, that's not the point."

"That's not a word, either."

"Listen, smartass, he's everythin' they need. All his Materia's mastered and he can use it better than any of us without even givin' it a second thought. He's come through time and time again, Rakk, you know that."

"I know, but I just--"

"I know you wanna go 'ta Modeoheim, but regardless of what anybody says, he's the logical choice. You're leadin' the Junon reactor team and I'm leadin' the Costa del Sol one. You know Cleon's not a leader."

"Yeah, yeah, I get the point."

"Shit," Cid wanned, "If it were up 'ta me, I'da chosen you 'ta tag along."

"Hah, thanks."

"But I still can't put my finger on why Jethro's so keen on takin' Cleon along. Sounds like he's up 'ta somethin' again."

"Won't argue with you there." Tifa offered. "Jethro knows more than he's letting on, almost as if he already knows everything that's happening and as if he's playing all the sides to his own advantage."

"Wouldn't surprise me…"

"And if you noticed, it's like he doesn't reveal anything until a situation calls for it."

Rakk scoffed. "Sounds like he's doing that because he's got one, reeeally big secret he doesn't want anybody finding out."

Cid thinned his eyes in inquiry. "Tifa… you don't think Jethro's in cahoots with Moira, do ya?"

"That clown bitch?" Questa asked, ever so eloquently. Everyone in the coalition had so far been warned of the threat of the otherworldly jester girl. It had been awhile since they last encountered her, but the devious puppet never left their thoughts and the required precautions were set up for every nightly slumber.

Tifa nodded to answer the female Mage's question, then turned back to the sky captain. "I don't know, Cid. I want to, but I just don't."

Cid grunted with contempt. "He's bad news, I'm tellin' ya! He's gonna stab us in the back as soon as we get there, or hell, maybe even sooner! Where is that guy, anyway? He could be--"

"Cid, Cid…" Tifa interrupted, "I know, but in all fairness, he hasn't done anything yet to lead us to really believe he could betray us…"

"We should'a just ditched that bastard back in Midgar when we had the chance."

"I can't vouch for the guy, nor do I want to, but I can't just bring myself to antagonize him without a suitable reason."

"You mean 'ta tell me that you'd only wait 'ta catch him red-handed? It'd be too late by then! Wake up, Tifa, he ain't exactly got the best track record with us, if ya didn't notice! And if that ain't enough, he was the one that brought that clown girl in'na this world, who's 'ta say that he ain't secretly controllin' her? Why else would he be so secretive with everything? He could be leadin' us straight into a trap!"

"I hate to say it, but we need him. He's a powerful ally, even if it's only an alliance of convenience. He's a necessary evil, Cid. At least for now, he's somebody we'll need to trust and depend on if we ever wanna hope to see our friends returned to us…"

Cid blinked at Tifa's words. There was something about that last statement that seemed to come straight from the most sincerest part of her being. The foursome remained silent for a good long while in lieu of the female martial artist's proclamation, quietly drinking their beverages and smoking their cigarettes. A few moments passed before Tifa rose to her feet and stretched out her arms into the air, then returned to lean on the rail to watch the falling rain. After awhile, Rakk checked his wristwatch, gulped down the last of his beer, and stood up with Questa to turn in for the night, bidding their AVALANCHE counterparts a farewell. Cid then made his way to stand beside Tifa, not smoking a cigarette for once, and gave a heavy, drawn-out sigh.

"Ya miss him, don't 'cha?"

It seemed like forever before Tifa gave her answer in the form of a nod. She never strayed her auburn hues from the waterfall of what seemed to be like the tears of the Planet.

"Must be why you're so keen on acceptin' all this unlikely help, am I right?"

Tifa nodded again. "...I can't lose him, Cid."

The sky captain was at a loss for words. He had no idea how to reply, but he found himself reminded of what Shera must be thinking right now. He had left without saying anything about where he had gone or what he was going to do. It was not like he cared about her or anything, but then again, she had willfully taken care of him when he was incapacitated and had been the only one to put up with his boisterousness with nothing short of a warm, sincere smile. He decided he would have to give Shera a phone call later. He felt as if he at least owed her that much.

Cid turned back to Tifa. She was still leaned forward, staring blankly at the falling rain with a poorly-hidden sorrow in her eyes. He scratched that back of his neck and let out an uncomfortable grunt. "Cloud's gonna be a'right, Tifa. With all've us workin' together to set things right… well... remember, tomorrow's gonna be the day we fight back and try 'ta set things right again… well… you get the idea."

Tifa chuckled gently. "Thanks, Cid."

"Yeah… and yeah, if it makes ya feel a 'lil bit better, I guess I can give Jethro a fair chance."

Tifa sighed. "It's not so much that I want you to trust him… it's just that it's such a pointless waste of time to be fighting amongst ourselves. We have bigger things to worry about."

"I could give that a try, too."

"That doesn't mean that we shouldn't at least keep an eye on him, mind you." Tifa said blithely as she turned to him with a light smile.

"…The second he tries anything funny, I'ma stick 'ma spear up his ass and turn him into a popsicle."

Author's Note: I apologize for the rather… mature nature this fic has taken in comparison to tolerant's original BP, like the more somber tones and darker themes and especially the increase in swearing. Oh well. Fuck it.

Oh yeah:

I'm planning on making a new, MUCH shorter story (in semi-novella format) right after I conclude Beyond Paradise II. I won't give too much away just yet, but it's supposed to be a side story to the events of Beyond Paradise I and II, and also encompasses parts of other times in the huge Final Fantasy VII mythos. It's going to fill in the gaps of BP2 and explain a lot of the untold back story of BP/BP2 and… "somebody, something, and something else."