Um... Hi! I'm still alive! I bring you a gift of chapter! It's been a long time coming. I hope you guys all enjoy a revival! A few changes will be coming, but this story is officially alive again! The main change, and the only one that effects you guys, is that I'll be replying in messages on reviews! Sorry if you don't have a account, you guys. Feel free to shoot me a message or an email if you want to get a reply to a question or comment! (You can email me directly at my google account! qdammit at gmail dot com!)

Without further ado, here is the story! It's been a long ass time, so I'll catch you up real quick. Loz and Sephiroth-captured by assholes. Yazoo-coming to save them, and destroying the souls of the kidnappers to do it. Kadaj-with Jenova. Zack-Dead. Aerith-Coming to save the soul Yazoo destroyed. Don't hesitate to reread some if you need to, or to send me questions about WTF is going on! I know it's been ages! I love you all, and thanks for sticking around!

Chapter 29

"Yazoo is scary."

Loz's smug declaration lingered in the chilly desert air around the two prisoners. Sephiroth's gaze had turned away after he spoke, staring towards the sky as he contemplated. Loz had wanted to give him time to think, and so had fallen silent as well. In the quiet and calm night, which had been so recently filled with horrors, he was finally forced to confront a truth he didn't want to. Despite his words to Sephiroth, he was well aware of a problem looming in their one hope of escape. If Yazoo did come for them, Loz wasn't sure his big brother would be of any use to them. After all, powerful as Yazoo had been in life, since their death he'd been nothing but a punching bag.

A shiver worked its way through Loz, and he burrowed a little deeper into the sand, trying not to let his teeth chatter together. The night, which had started out cool, was now much closer to the level of freezing. He could no longer feel his hands at all, and hoped that they weren't going to fall off. He gave a little, helpless tremble, and winced as the chains connected to his collar jangled. Fortunately, so long as he didn't move too much, the part of the metal ring in contact with his neck retained some of his body heat.

Still uncomfortable, he shifted once more, burrowing as deep as he could into the cooling sands, and the chilled metal burned with cold against his skin. A soft gasp escaped him at the sudden chill. It was inescapable, and pervasive. His clothes, which had burned so much during the day, were all that stood between him and freezing to death now. He felt a brief, inescapable rush of fear as he thought of Sephiroth's ineffectual cloth covering before forcing himself to relax again. They'd put clothes on at least his lower half. And Sephiroth was much bigger than him. Surely the broken man had to be warmer than Loz himself.

Since the two guards had returned Sephiroth, the camp had gone silent. Loz's hearing wasn't nearly sharp enough to pick up on any sounds left, but he would have bet most of them were snoring. Every once in a while, he'd hear a weird, inhuman cry, that he supposed must have come from the Chocobo, but they quickly trailed off into silence as well.

He stared up at the sky, getting caught up in the strange, perfect midnight blue above him. More and more dots that he supposed were stars were appearing in the deep purple sky the longer he stared away from the bright lanterns they had hung on each side of the wagon. A thought struck him as he stared up at the stars-one he couldn't escape from once it was there. His lips moved to form it before he could stop himself.

"I wish Zack were here," he whispered into the still night, as though saying the words might bring his dark-haired friend.

Beside him, Sephiroth flinched at the words, a sharp jerk that jostled his entire body. Surprised, Loz turned his gaze to him, and saw an expression of pain on the man's normally blank face before it faded into his usual, impassive stare. Loz met his green, slit-pupiled gaze with his own. He wondered how many times this Sephiroth had called out for Zack before Jenova had taken his tongue for herself. Though Loz would have assumed Sephiroth had restrained the urge, and never gotten the chance to call out for the man who had stayed with him the longest of anyone. Sephiroth was not the type to request help.

Loz swallowed in the face of Sephiroth's unchanging stare, wondering if he was in trouble for the softly spoken wish. After all, unlike himself, Sephiroth actually knew Zack. He didn't just remember him vicariously.

"Um," he whispered softly into the stretching silence, "sorry. I didn't mean-"

Sephiroth's slim hand raised slightly off the ground, still bound to the stump of his left arm, stopping the flow of his words. Sephiroth's face remained unchanged as his fingers once again slipped into motion, shaking. Loz watched them intently, noticing the sand that stuck to every inch of his fingers. The desert had pervaded every inch of flesh, and cloth, and body that it was presented with. Sephiroth's chest glittered a little in the light from the lanterns, the sand stuck to his skin as reflective as that on the ground. Then Loz's mind caught up to what he'd just seen Sephiroth spell.

'Turn around.'

"Why?" Loz asked with growing suspicion. "What're you gunna do?"

With a blank look, Sephiroth extended a finger, twirling it three times in a sign that repeated his meaning without necessitating he spell once again.

Loz hesitated, uncertain, then slowly, painstakingly, wiggled, kicking his legs out to try and turn himself over. He held his breath as he had to press his face into the sand to turn, but still managed to get sand up his nose. He tried to splutter and cough as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw attention to them. He spat out sand, wishing he had some water to rinse his mouth out with, though he would have rather drunken it. He was still parched, even now that he was frozen rather than burning up.

For a moment, nothing more happened as he lay with his back to Sephiroth. Then the sand shifted behind him, and pain flared in his numb wrists. He gasped hollowly as pain like fire streaked up his arms to his aching shoulders. Quite suddenly, he could feel every inch of cracked, bleeding, chaffed, burned skin on his wrists and hands. Sephiroth's touch had ended the blessed numbness.

"Wait, please," Loz whispered painfully, struggling to shift away from Sephiroth.

The hand refused to release him, and Loz gave a soft, desperate whimper. What would Sephiroth do to him now that he was at his mercy? Loz shuddered, wondering if the fact that he was born from Sephiroth would make it possible for the man to steal one of his hands for his own. The thought make him stick to his stomach.

All of a sudden, he fell silent and still as his mind caught up to reality. Sephiroth was paying no attention to his hands. What Loz felt-what was hurting him-was the man struggling against the cruel rope that bound his wrists together. The sickness that had settled into the pit of his stomach suddenly vanished, replaced with a fluttering excitement in his chest. His lips parted slightly, giving a soft, breathy gasp as he realized he was getting his wish. Sephiroth was helping him escape.

As he lay as still as possible on his side, trying not to let his hands jerk away from Sephiroth when the man hurt him fighting against the rope, his eyes slide up to the sky. Overhead, three small green lights, like fireflies, swirled overhead unsteadily.

Once the third guard was dead, Yazoo allowed himself a moment to breathe. The first had been the most difficult, as he'd tried to find his way around butchering the human form swiftly and neatly. But since his first murder, things had gone far more smoothly. The second man had never seen the knife that slashed his throat, much less Yazoo. He'd been playing solitaire, muttering to himself as he flipped cards over and stacked them. The snarl of frustration he'd worn stayed on his face until Yazoo finally managed to cut deep enough to destroy him

The third man had been he only one to come close to putting up a fight. Yazoo had almost been caught as the man alertly paced his assigned route. The remnant hadn't had time to bury himself yet. But he'd had plenty of time to get back to a killer's mentality, and alertness would not be enough to deter him. In the end, even that man had had to let his guard down. Even if it was only to tie his bootlace. It had been more than enough of an opening for Yazoo to take.

He sat where the last body had fallen, staring blankly up at the sky. His legs and arms were weak with exertion. The bodies of the Lifestream were as resistant to being destroyed as any real one, and neither he nor his weapon were as strong as he remembered. As he sat still, the cold slowly sank into his over-heated skin, past the adrenaline fueled heat he'd been experiencing for the past while. He didn't bother curling up, or rubbing his arms. He didn't respond to the cold in any way. He only stared up at the sky he couldn't see. He liked that blankness above him. Liked how peaceful and deserted it looked.

Briefly, his heart sped up with adrenaline, the image of a young silver-haired child appearing in his head, but he shrugged it off. Whoever the boy was, he'd kill him when he wasn't busy. He had time.

As he stared up at the sky, he never noticed the visible world slowly shrinking around him. He'd stopped noticing anything.

The desert knew better than to chill Aerith's skin. She gave the sands a smile as she walked into its folds, despite her unease. She knew it was dangerous to leave Zack with Kadaj. She'd felt the boy's faith shaking for some time now. She needed to be with him-to help him through what was plaguing him. But she had to take the chance.

She gave a soft gasp as the Lifestream tugged at her insistently, like an ocean's riptide. She had a task here, and worrying about the little sliver of a boy was not part of it. She took a deep breath, connecting more firmly to her task as the Lifestream's caretaker. She felt the calm flow through her-the same kind she'd always felt from the flowers in her church. She lifted her arms to the sky, with a gentle smile gracing her lips, and called out, without a word, to the skies.

The first fragment of a soul came to her slowly, like a wounded animal, staggering through the air. The moment it was close enough, she cupped her hands under it, supporting it. Aerith pulled the fragment close, and blew a soft breath on it, like someone trying to ignite a dying coal in a fire. The green speck brightened at the kind touch, as Aerith spread her warmth around it.

"Poor thing," She whispered to the spark. "Someone's done a number on you. Maybe too much of one."

She gave the little spark a sad smile, her eyes gentle as she watched it. It settled slowly, wearily in her hands, as inhuman as any firefly, and yet utterly a man. She could hear it screaming and crying, in her head. It sounded like a child, though she knew quite well the moment she touched the light it had been a man before it was killed. That could only mean trouble, if something had destroyed the soul so completely that only the childhood part of it remained.

Aerith's focus was quite suddenly broken by movement in the stars above her. She lifted wide, startled eyes, and gave a sharp gasp. Two more dimming lights swayed down from above to drop, exhausted into her hands.

"Three of you," she whispered, her brows twisting in horror. "Oh Goddess..."

The screams of the broken souls shot through her head, each voice raised in agony and sorrow. Aerith grimaced, struggling to find her calm again, and took a shaking breath, blowing the strength of the Lifestream into them, to hold them together a little longer. The screams quieted, but Aerith knew it wouldn't be for long. She needed to get them to the Goddess, either to repair, or to reincarnate. She couldn't allow them to be completely destroyed, after all. But before that task, something had to be dealt with. After all, something in the desert she stood in had killed three souls.

She shuddered at the very thought. That was the sort of act that honestly doomed a creature in this world. The souls in her hands felt heavy, despite having no real weight to them. They would never become exactly who they were again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to them. "I'm so so sorry. Hold on a little longer."

She turned her face back into the dunes, cupping her hands around the souls and holding them close to her. She felt them stir uneasily as she stepped out into the sand, moving towards the unrest that seemed to fill the universe around her. It was easy to see where the murderer was. The Lifestream twisted around them, as though trying to keep as far away as possible from itself.

As she walked, Aerith felt a sudden and inexplicable longing for her staff. She hadn't used a weapon since the moment she'd bled to death on the floor of the Ancient city. She shuddered once more at the memory of Cloud's shocked, frightened face staring down at her. She'd watched his expression morph, his too-young face twisted in a horrified mixture of already crushing guilt, and a trauma he would never quite escape. The next thing she'd seen after his horrified look was a familiar tanned hand reaching down for her, and a puppy-like smile she hadn't seen in far, far too long.

"Zack," she sighed softly, letting a soft smile cross her face. "I worry too much. It'll be fine. We'll make it work."

She looked down at the little sparks of soul in her hands, letting her faith in her constant companion strengthen them even as it renewed her. Zack was utterly worthy of her faith. He'd never let her down-only once, and it hadn't been his fault. She'd known that even at the time. That's why she'd written him all those letters. Those letters which he would never read, which Tseng still had hidden away in a drawer in his lonely office.

She drew herself back to the present, pushing away her thoughts of the living world. Things there were far closer to perfect than they had been in some time. She needed to worry about her Goddess's domain, which was still under constant threat. Cloud had the living world well in hand.

She rounded a corner and froze, staring. The bubble of security she'd felt thinking of Zack and Cloud, her brave, sweet boys, burst in an instant. Bloody and filthy, Yazoo sat in the sand, his eyes as blank as a doll's. He was staring up at the sky, his lips parted in an empty gape, showing the faintest gleam of sharp white teeth behind them. Splatters of blood covered his face in ugly spots and blotches. His jacket hung open over his slender shoulders, displaying his still scared misshapen ribs and chest.

"You," Aerith whispered, horrified, as the souls in her hand cowered and trembled against her palm. "You did this."

Yazoo looked up slowly. His gaze was bleary and uninterested like a drowsy, sated wildcat. He stared at her without recognition for a long moment before his pupils narrowed abruptly, which served to make his eyes seem that much greener. Despite herself, Aerith drew back a little. She was far more powerful than the damaged remnant in this realm, and yet something about him filled her with unease.

"Kadaj," the boy rasped, the blood on his lips flaking off as he spoke.

"What?" Aerith asked, glancing behind herself to ensure her charge hadn't followed her into the desert somehow.

"You stole," Yazoo rasped, standing up ponderously as he spoke, "Kadaj."

Aerith gave a shudder. This was not how it was supposed to go. She'd had a plan. All Yazoo had needed to do was protect Loz-just keep that one boy safe long enough for the Goddess to see the good in them. The souls pressed into her hands shuddered as Yazoo took a step forward, and she knew she had misjudged. She had misjudged all of them. She'd seen the good in all three, but she should have listened to Zack's fears and concerns. You couldn't just put people like them into desperate positions and expect them to succeed. She saw that now, as Yazoo cracked his neck and lifted a broken, blunted knife. And she knew that it was too late for them.

"I'm sorry," She whispered to the boy. "I always intended to give him back. But I can't anymore. Not after what you've done. Why would you do this? What did these people do to you?"

Yazoo paused, tilting his head slowly as she spoke, like an uncomprehending beast. As her words sunk in, he straightened a little. Even as she watched some humanity seemed to strike his eyes. He lifted from his aggressive crouch, and his eyes flickered away from her for a moment. His brow knitted slightly, as though he were trying to remember something.

"They stole-" He whispered, as though trying to put the thought together in his mind as he spoke.

Aerith watched him struggle with that for some time, until the blank look started to re-assert itself on the boy's face. He sank down into a half-crouch again, lowering the knife. He looked more lost than even Cloud had when Aerith had last pulled him towards her realm as he traveled to the Forgotten City. She swallowed hard, silently begging the patience of his victims. She risked one more question.

"Where is Loz?"

Yazoo lifted his eyes to her slowly after she spoke. As he did so, his eyes brightened. Lucidity touched them once again. His lips parted slightly, vulnerably, before he closed his mouth. He straightened completely, staring at her in shock for a long moment before turning to the sands, blinking towards the light.

"They stole Loz," He said grimly, his voice dark. "I found his blood on their trail. I heard him crying. They stole him from me, and they hurt him." He turned back to her with a vicious curl to his lips, and narrowed eyes. "They deserved to die."

Aerith shuddered as she saw the absolute conviction in Yazoo's eyes. She hadn't misjudged him after all, it seemed. He'd protected his brother the only way that he knew to- the only way he could. The people Aerith had misjudged were the others—the 'normal' humans. She knew this realm wasn't as peaceful as it once was, but she'd fixated on the scourge that was Jenvoa. She had never thought to worry about the other souls. She looked down at her hand briefly, at the three points of light, before her chest tightened with realization.

He'd killed these three men, violently and thoroughly, for stealing Loz away and harming him. Though she hadn't harmed him herself, she had also taken one of Yazoo's brothers from him. And though she' d never meant for it, under her protection Kadaj had unmistakably been hurt by Jenova. It was clear from the look in the young remnant's eyes when she left.

She lifted her head slowly, taking a deep breath as she watched Yazoo waver where he stood, considering. After only a moment more, he raised the knife once again and his green eyes cold and hard. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but it was hard. She was all but a demi-god in the Lifestream, but she was unarmed. That she had to protect the souls under her keeping didn't help matters. If Yazoo decided to attack, she could quickly run into a great deal of trouble.

"You don't have to do this," she whispered, hoping the feral clone was still capable of being reasoned with. "Loz is still alive. If you attack me, you won't be able to save him. It will be the end of you."

Yazoo snarled viciously at her words, but he didn't move. He hovered there, frozen, and Aerith could feel his indecision in the air. Before him was the woman who'd stolen his life away, though she'd done it only to help. Somewhere deeper in the desert, though, his little brother was waiting, possibly still in danger. Silently, closing her eyes as she cupped her hands around the fractured, broken souls, she prayed for him to chose the path that might still lead him to redemption.

When she finally opened her eyes again after minutes of waiting, Yazoo was gone. His footprints led away, towards the light of the camp that only barely tinged the air. The bloody knife glittered up at her from the ground, cast aside like so much garbage. She took a careful step back as she glanced around warily, not entirely assured this wasn't a trick. The boy was nowhere to be seen. Sand shifted in the still night as an unseen form slid down the side of a dune, heading away from her towards the camp. Aerith closed her eyes tightly, letting out a shaking breath and holding the little shattered souls to her chest.

She opened the path back to her realm, feeling the relief at her escape straight down to her bones. She was fully aware now of exactly how dangerous the young man she'd just encountered was, and she didn't dare wait too long where he could still find her before she had a chance to reunite their strange little family. It was far safer in her home, where the souls could rest in the fresh air and flowers until the goddess could deal with them.

With the first step she took back inside her meadow, Aerith stopped breathing. She felt her eyes widen as though from a great distance-felt a chill in the air that made her sick. The meadow reeked of rotten flowers, and the ground had turned black where once there had been beauty and green.

In the middle of it, Zack's head stared blankly out at the world with empty, glazed eyes, his mouth open in an endless, voiceless scream. Nothing but a mess of blood connected his neck to his body. She ran, as though her speed now could save her lover, and where she stepped the dark sludge that had been her garden tugged downwards on her shoes, as though to drag her down. The dark clouds overhead billowed and crackled with thunder.

Aerith fell to her knees by Zack, dropping the souls to her lap, ignoring their terrified screams to cup her lover's cheeks, staring down at his horrified, dead face. Under her touch, his skin gave a little, and tremors of green ran along his skin. His soul, strong though it was, was starting to break.

Kadaj was nowhere to be seen.