"Pull yourself together, Commander."

The voice was deep, commanding, carrying with it something of a melodious air that just barely managed to cover the hate underneath it, like quickly burning silk cloth over searing-hot metal.

Pan knew that voice. He twitched one eye open, looked at his would-be rescuer. "They're gone, then?"

"Of course they are. They weren't thorough at all – if they'd incinerated your 'remains' I doubt we'd be having this conversation."

The upper half of Pan's torso shrugged its shoulders and his head, which lay several feet away, grinned. "Their loss." His limbs gave sharp spasms and knitted themselves back together, then twitched and jerked across the ground over to the several pieces his torso had been hacked into, pushing them back together until they were healed, and then attached themselves to it.

Pan's body got up, dusted itself off, and almost as an afterthought picked up his head and put it back on its shoulders.

He cracked his neck and gave a small, vexed sigh. "Well, damn. If I'd known I would have Strife coming, I would have killed Valentine faster. One stupid turn deserves another, I suppose."

"Indeed," his superior said curtly. "You needn't worry, though, Commander. You've done an excellent job. Now that Strife is here, he's out of the picture in Edge, which is where we're making our big move. Give us another day of distracting him and you'll be able to return. Then it won't matter how fast and strong he comes at us – it'll be far too late."

"Understood, sir. Shall we send the command center up in a blaze of glory?"

"I think so, yes. Let the heroic Wusheng troops locate it and storm it. We'll be back for them another time, after all. Just make sure that nobody thinks you to be alive. With Strife and his friends thinking you're dead, we have at our fingertips some excellent strategic and tactical advantages."

"Yes, sir. Is there anything else?"

The man hesitated, pursed his lips for a moment. "Doubtful though it may be," he said after a minute's thought, "if Strife should storm the base with the Wusheng and it comes to killing him or letting him and the Wusheng have their victory, choose the latter. I want him for myself."

Pan's mouth twitched in a smile. "Then, if I could make a similar request of you?"

"You could."

"I want Valentine. He's not my match, but he's the closest anybody's come in recent memory – with the exception of Strife, of course. And… something about him is interesting. He holds his cards very close to his chest. I find myself wondering what his hand could be."

"I will grant you that. After all, you have done quite well. That will be all, Commander."

"Until next time, General."

The man turned and stalked away into the shadows, and Pan took a moment to study his back before he disappeared. He couldn't be who he presumed to be. Pan had stood by helplessly and watched the battle in the sky all those years ago, and he'd seen how it had ended. Strife was a demon in combat, and nobody could have survived those final strikes he'd delivered – not even Pan as he was now, who had just taken the original Omnislash and lived to laugh about it.

But if the man wasn't Sephiroth, then who was he?

They held a conference the next morning at Yuffie's house, Makoto included.

"We got a lead on their command center last night," he said to everyone. "One of our inside men reported that the SHM were evacuating a shipment of weaponry from some slum sectors we happened to be sweeping. We found the shipment, or what was left of it, but that got us no closer to where the SHM are based, and what's more, our man hasn't reported in again since then."

"Not my fault," Vincent said blandly.

"Of course not – there was no way you could have known. As it turns out, hindsight being perfect, I'm fairly sure that our man was made to report erroneously and then killed. The convoy we were tracking down was a decoy and had nothing but foodstuffs; we're thinking it was leading us into the ambush that got redirected to hit you when you took out the real thing. Still, I'm fairly certain we'll have another lead by the end of today, and now that Pan is dead we won't be having nearly as much trouble coping strategically."

Vincent's expression turned disquieting at the mention of Pan. "I doubt he's dead. We should have burned the body."

Cloud raised an eyebrow at him. "In case you didn't notice, Vincent, I hit him with an Omnislash. Could he survive being chopped into that many pieces?"

"I'm not sure enough that he couldn't to say so. He regenerated his head after I blew it off, and he managed to control his body even with a broken neck. I don't know what he is, but I shouldn't have underestimated him again."

"Whether he's dead or not," Yuffie cut in, "doesn't matter at this point. Right now the SHM are on the rebound – they've just taken a major loss. It's time to hit them hard again, not let them come back twice as strong. We just need to figure out where and how."

Makoto looked like he was about to say something further, but his phone abruptly rang and he stepped outside to take the call. Cid took the opportunity to projectile-spit his current piece of nicotine gum into the trash and say, "So. Yuffie. You get me any cigs?"

She grinned sheepishly at him. "'Fraid not, old man. I'll buy you some before we leave town, though. Which leads to the question – what the hell are you doing here, anyway?"

The old pilot groaned with disappointment and popped in another piece of gum. "Well, it was about two in the fuckin' morning when Boy Scout here –" and at this he indicated Cloud – "called me and said he needed a ride into Wutai. Urgent-like. So I told Shera I'd be taking the ol' girl out for a spin and might not be back for a bit."

"Let me guess," Tseng said from where he and Elena sat. "Cloud, you're here on Reeve's orders to help resolve the SHM crisis, and for the duration of your absence he'll be taking on your administrative duties."

Cloud offered a sickly grin. "Pretty much, yeah."

"Would you say you guys were right about him yet, partn- er, Rude?" Reno asked.

Rude gave a fractional nod. "Technically he hasn't taken over Tseng's job yet, but give it a bit. He'll find some excuse and then the WRO'll be practically a dictatorship."

All of them fell silent for a bit at that particular prospect, then Yuffie visibly shook it off and said, "Well, no sense sitting around and moping about it. I say we help Makoto get rid of the silver-haired bastards here, and then figure out our next move."

"Hear, hear," Cid crowed. "Things've been so borin' in Rocket Town since we rounded up them rats, I'm dyin' for a little fun."

Makoto chose that moment to come back in, an expression of disbelief on his face. "I don't believe it."

"Good news or bad?" Reno asked before anyone else could say anything.

"Good, amazingly good. An officer of the third watch was on patrol when he and his men saw some SHM apparently moving some materiel or supplies. He decided to follow them and they led him to an old building in the warehouse district. Upon close inspection, there's a concealed entryway into what he guesses is an old underground bunker, probably built decades ago during the war with Shin-Ra. Tactical's gone over all the old city maps and they confirm that this bunker is big enough to house the SHM's base of operations. All I have to do is give the word and we bring the hammer down."

Vincent narrowed his eyes. "I don't trust this."

"You're just a bundle of joy and positivism, aren't you?" Elena observed. "You think it's a trap?"

"I think you were meant to find it. I think the SHM are done with Wutai, and they want you to think you've scored a major victory when they've really pulled all their important assets out."

"We found it by pure coincidence, Vincent," Makoto protested.

"The SHM know you keep regular patrols. I'm willing to bet that the same squad of them were moving the same materiel back and forth in and out of the base for hours until they picked up your aforementioned officer's attention."

Nobody looked like they wanted to be convinced, but all of them knew that Vincent's words were ringing with a core of truth. "All right, then," Makoto said, "but why now? Why pull out at this point? They just lost a huge shipment of weapons, not to mention mako, as well as hundreds of their men. Pulling out now would be a huge blow to their morale."

"Pan and whoever his superiors are aren't interested in the lives of their men, to say nothing of their morale. That wouldn't factor one whit into their decision. No, their reason for retreating is simple. What's changed in Wutai between yesterday and today?"

Everyone stared at him in silence. Finally Yuffie said, "Stop being a showoff and tell us!"

Vincent cracked his first partial smile for the day before he returned to being stoic and pointed at Cloud. "This man right here."

Cid immediately started guffawing. "Yer fuckin' rich, Valentine. Strife shows up and the SHM piss their pants and run! If only it was so easy, eh?"

"This has nothing to do with fear. I wouldn't even call it a retreat. It's a reallocation of their forces. They know that Cloud represents a major deterrent to their plans, so now that they have him here…"

"Edge," Cloud said, his eyes blazing with comprehension. "They're going to hit Edge."

Cid let loose with a particularly colorful string of phrases concerning the SHM"s questionable collective parentage, while the rest of them stared at Vincent, wide-eyed, as the same comprehension dawned on them.

"If we take the Shera now, when would we get there?" Yuffie asked.

"I nearly burned the old girl out gettin' Strife here so fast," Cid swore. "Day and a half, maybe. If I push it."

"I think you should," Reno drawled. "I really, really do."

"That's settled, then." The old pilot stood and made for the door. "I'm gonna get her primed and ready. The rest of you, get yer shit together. We leave in an hour." He was gone in the next moment.

The room abruptly turned into a mass of moving people, with the exception of Vincent and Cloud, who stayed seated, and Makoto, who stood stock-still, dumbstruck.

"I'm sorry, Makoto," Cloud finally said.

The man visibly recovered his composure. "Not your fault," he said briskly. "And this really is a good thing – Wutai can count on going unmolested by them for a while, now. I'll handle the cleanup. You need to leave as soon as possible."

"Thank you." He stood up and walked out of the room, intent on getting his things together. Vincent supposed he should pack, as well, so he got up too.

"Just a second," Makoto said. "Do me a favor, Vincent."

Vincent looked the young man in the eye and read the conviction there, nodded.

"Those bastards used my city and killed my people as a distraction. I'm needed here. I can't go and do what ought to be done. So do me this favor, and don't let a single one of them escape."

Vincent nodded gravely. "You can count on us, Makoto. The SHM won't know what hit them."

"Maybe you'd like to explain yourself now," Yuffie said.

She'd cornered Vincent in the guestroom where he was pulling together his meager possessions and checking Cerberus. "Explain myself how?"

One second Yuffie was looking angrily at him, jaw working, and a moment later it was gone and she was holding him in an iron grip around his torso, face buried in his chest. "Where did you go?" she demanded, voice muffled. "I thought so many things could have happened to you, I thought –"

Instinctively Vincent started to push her off of him, but he stopped himself, instead laying his right hand gently on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, meaning it. "It was my fault. I felt responsible for the hospital, and I wanted to make the one who did the deed account for it."

"The hospital wasn't your fault," Yuffie insisted. "It was us who should have listened to you. We all wanted the same thing you did, Vincent, so why did you do it alone?"

"I didn't want you to get involved –"

She pulled her face out of his chest and stared defiantly at him. "You stupid stuck-up bastard, I'm just as goddamn involved as you are! This is my city, and what's more, I'm the one who brought you back from the fucking dead so we could do this! You don't have to do everything alone and be the one responsible for everything, Vincent! You can count on m– on us! We're here for you, dammit!" Her head tilted forward again until her forehead just touched his chest, and he could feel her gaze on his boots. "You were there for me. Let me return the favor."

Vincent felt no words come. He stood there, and stroked Yuffie's hair, and wondered at what a fool he had been.