A/N: Thanks for your patience, I hope you all had a Merry Christmas!


Chapter 29

Shepard ducked a speeding spike of ice, then flung out her hand and lobbed a fireball. Genesis scoffed, and a shield flickered into existence around him. The flames licked harmlessly over its gleaming surface, and his new coat fluttered in the blast of heat.

He lifted his hand, and she felt the familiar surge of gravity misbehaving in the air around her. It was her turn to scoff. Electric blue light rimmed the edges of her vision, and she jerked gravity back into its proper place.

He instantly followed up with a blast of lightning, stalking around her like a predator. He lobbed magical poison at her, followed by a rain of ice spears and then a fireball of his own.

Her shields absorbed the barrage, and she spun to keep him in her line of sight. Her materia was singing in her bracer. She hurled a blast of ice to meet his fireball head on. The fire died, the ice cracked, and then a wave of melted ice water smacked Genesis in the face.

The spar came to a grinding halt. He stumbled back, spluttering and shaking water out of his hair, before sending her a particularly displeased frown.

"Should have dodged," she said.

Not deigning to reply, he moved to the benches on one side of the room and found a towel. Her gun was propped up against a bench there, alongside his new red sword. Assuming that meant the fight was over, she followed and began unhooking the materia bracer he had lent to her. Finding one that would fit around her armour had proved nearly impossible until he had stepped forward and produced one from the depths of his personal collection.

She held it out to him.

"Keep it," he said, rubbing his hair down with a towel. "And the materia inside. I suspect you'll have use of them soon enough."

"These are expensive," she objected. She had tried to buy some of her own at first, but even months of a Shinra salary couldn't purchase much more than a couple of common unlevelled materia.

He flicked his damp hair dismissively. "Not that expensive. And you've levelled up most of them yourself, so you've earned it."

She thanked him and reattached the bracer to her wrist. The coal-coloured metal fit snuggly around her left forearm and didn't interfere with any of her armour's functions. Without medi-gel, something she still couldn't synthesise from the materials on hand, Cure was a life saver.

He leaned back against the waist-high bench and gave her a speculative look.

"You've caught up. Your proficiency is exactly what is expected of a SOLDIER Second Class." He smiled. "It's almost a shame you've just been promoted to First."

She shook her head and wondered how long it would take before he stopped being so impressed with his own rank.

"I'll get there. Sooner or later," she said, stretching her shoulders. It wasn't as though she lacked for chances to practice.

He hummed in thought.

"Why aren't you getting the final enhancements?" he asked after a minute of companionable silence. He hadn't been so insistent on the wonders of the enhancements after his latest round of injections, but he still didn't understand her hesitance. "It would help improve your magical control."

"It would kill me first." She leaned against the bench next to him and crossed her arms.

"But aren't you human? You should have enough resistance by now." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Or do you just look human?"

"I am human," she sighed. This conversation had gotten old a long time ago. "But it's more complicated than that. Whatever Mako is, I am not designed to have it pumped into me." She was designed to kill reapers, little more than that. Miranda would probably have a fit if she ever heard that Shepard had gotten any enhancements at all and messed up Cerberus' hard work. "And besides, it messes with my biotics."

"I suppose it is unlikely that a person from a different planet, even if human, would have the same reactions as a native to Gaia," he said grudgingly.

"Precisely," she said, glad to see the subject dropped. She took a drink of water and re-examined her materia. They would make a useful addition to her arsenal, though she wouldn't be using much of the offensive ones. Flare didn't have as much punch as an incendiary burst, and overload did a better job of frying electronics than lightning materia. But they made good backups, and if anything should ever happen to her Omni-tool, they would be vital.

She looked up and found Genesis staring at her. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"If the three friends are the same person, then who wins the duel?" he asked.

She blinked twice. "What?"

"Now that I know why your perspective is so unusual, I would like to hear more of it," he said with an indifferent shrug.

It took her a moment to catch up. "You're talking about Loveless again, aren't you?"

He huffed in disappointment.

"You suggested the three friends of lore are in fact a single person: Wanderer, Prisoner, and Hero, all in one." He was no less passionate on the subject than he had been the first time she'd gotten this lecture, months ago now. "The play ends with a duel between two of them. Who fights? Who wins? And what of the tragically parted lovers?"

"I haven't finished reading it yet," she hedged. She had actually given up entirely, but telling him that would earn her a much longer lecture.

"The end is missing," he explained impatiently. "The duel's conclusion is down to interpretation. I am asking you who the winner will be."

"I suppose that depends on who's reading it, if it's down to interpretation." She shrugged, wondering why her opinion on the subject was so important.

"Stop being difficult."

"I'm being difficult? You said we were going to practice materia, not analyse poetry." She crossed her arms again. "You promised me something unusual, yet all we've done so far is standard training."

"Fine. I'll ask again later." He flicked open his own bracer and pulled out a red orb. He held it out to her. "This is yours."

"You think I can control it now?" She took it and felt the same touch of warmth from the marble as she had the first time she'd picked it up, though stronger now. The materia was unchanged; she had just learned to sense it properly.

"I have no idea," he said, instinctively stepping back when she picked it up. "But you have enough strength and control that it might permit you to try."

She fitted it into her bracer.

"So what do I do?" she moved back into the centre of the training room.

He remained against the wall.

"A summon is a living creature, with no obligation to follow your orders unless it deigns to do so. As you call on it, it will decide what it thinks of you," he said, still leaning back against the bench with his arms crossed. "How hard it chooses to fight on your orders will be decided by that alone."

"What does it want? What is it getting out of the deal?" She examined the faint glow at her wrist. It felt more… present than other materia. They all had a weight to them, like a weapon resting on her back. This felt more alive despite being motionless, like a large animal breathing deeply in its sleep.

"Each summon is different, but they are fighters by nature," he said. "Some crave combat and fight like brutes regardless of who is giving the orders; others deign to fight but seem to resent being woken at all. Some are very hard to please and have idealistic tendencies. Set Ifrit on a defenceless child, and he'll devour it without hesitation. Ask the same of Shiva, and she will shake her head at you in disappointment."

So not a weapon then, an ally.

"What's the Phoenix like?" she asked.

"I've never seen it in person, but it's a symbol of rebirth, neither inherently good nor inherently evil."

"All right. What do I do?" she asked, getting ready to activate it.

"Open it up and see," he said with a smile, stepping closer to the wall.

She fixed him with a look. "This is a trap, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "Your character will speak for itself. All that remains is to see whether or not the Phoenix approves of you. If it does, then congratulations. If it doesn't…" he let the sentence linger and his smile grew sharp, "…then it's a good thing you have your ice equipped."

She shook her head and looked again at the materia. No time like the present.

She took a breath and activated it. The same slight itch that came with biotics tingled in the back of her mind, the sensation of controlling something beyond your own body.

The materia pulsed, warmth leaving the orb and pouring into the air. She held her arm out.

There was a faint hiss, like oxygen feeding a small fire. Red light flared and arced out of the bracer. Long strands of flame whirled up into the air, spinning around a single point high above her head and radiating waves of sweltering heat. She barely resisted the urge to step back. The strong smell of ozone with a touch of burnt plastic wafted through the room. The tiles on the floor blackened and cracked under the heat.

The whirling point of fire exploded outward, and two massive wings of red flame spread wide with a loud trill of victory.

The Phoenix spun several times, seemingly taking joy in its freedom and the ability to stretch its wings. Finally, it settled in place, twirling lightly with its long streaming tails of fire flickering around it.

It wasn't going to be very useful if it insisted on this extended ritual of fluffing around every time she needed help.

A fathomless black eye settled on her, and the Phoenix hissed like a sputtering fire just fed new fuel. She stood at her full height.

"I am Commander Shepard," she said, "and I need your help."

It trilled sharply, and the flames roared higher. One of the long streams of its tail lashed out and wrapped around her wrist. It tried to pull her nearer, but she yanked back, spinning the creature around her. The flames tightened around her wrist, sputtering uselessly against her armour. The flames surged, its wings angling around her as it threw it itself at her.

With a cry, she threw up a biotic barrier, trying to push it back and get some space, more air before it was all burnt up.

Heat waves distorted her vision, and she could see nothing but red, the burning summon wrapping itself around her and roaring like a house burning to the ground.

Or like a frigate being blown apart by the cannons of the Collector ship.

The smell of super-heated ablative plating filled the air, and her head grew light. She threw her arms out, forcing the Phoenix back with her biotics before she could be smothered. The air was choking and flames flickered a searing blue, icy blue like the snow-covered surface of Alchera. She gasped, suffocating and flailing uselessly with a severed oxygen line, the Normandy's burning hull falling around her, broken by forces she could never overcome.

Her vision darkened, the endless black of space waiting to engulf her.

No. No.

She shook her head against it and grit her teeth. She had overcome those forces. Gasping to life in a Cerberus facility. Staring down the Reapers, defying them. Killing them.

Her biotics exploded with a roar. The flames drew back, red again. She doubled her efforts, dragging oxygen into her lungs with great gasping breaths. The flames licked along her biotics and were forced away.

The Phoenix trilled and coyly unwrapped itself from around her, her biotics refusing to give way before the tongues of fire.

Panting, she drew herself up to her full height, her back straight and her breath laboured. It watched her, careful black eyes calmly assessing her.

"I am Commander Shepard," she thundered, pushing the weight of all she had lived through into her words, "Spectre, SOLDIER, N7 operative, Hero of the Citadel. Killer of the Reapers." She said it with bared teeth. "And I need your help."

It cocked its head at her and floated at a distance, flames hissing softly.

Those were her terms. She didn't command; she didn't give orders to those who weren't under her. She asked for its help, but demanded its respect. It studied her, its gaze oddly cold for a creature of fire. It reminded her, bizarrely, of Miranda. Sleek poise and ruthless confidence, intelligence and blind assumptions all wrapped up in a body most would never look beyond.

It drifted closer to the ground and drew near again at a more sedate pace. She lifted her chin in challenge. The flames were cooler now but alarmingly close. It trilled softly, bobbing its head in a bird-like gesture she couldn't interpret. Then it simply faded away into ash, and the materia at her wrist felt warm again.

She had a new ally.

Her shoulders drooped. She hadn't even noticed the drain on her reserves.

Genesis was staring at her.

"What?" She swallowed through her parched throat.

"Normally you have to conquer a Summon." He approached, looking speculatively at her bracer. "Typically in a more literal sense."

"Why didn't you say so?" she said with a huff. She could have shot at it, but she'd already discovered that didn't work very well. Throwing warps felt like a dubious method of recruitment.

"I wanted to see what you would do," he said with a smile that was definitely laughing at her. "I've never seen anyone ask politely before."

"I can't call it back and challenge it to a spar now." It had already agreed to fight for her. She'd felt its acceptance as it returned to the bracer. Acceptance and curiosity. The creature of fire and ash that lived in a marble thought she was weird.

"No, of course not. I think you surprised him. I'm fascinated to see what sort of results he gives you."

"She," she said, pausing to think it over. "It is a 'she.'"

"If you say so," he said, his eyes narrowed and fixed on her, "'Hero of the Citadel.'"

She should have seen that coming. She ignored him and walked back to the side of the room.

"Feel free to explain yourself, Hero," he said, following her.

"I'd rather not." She put her compacted rifle on her back. It was a title she had earned, but boasting about it when the Citadel was probably in ruins somewhere felt wrong. And his romanticised idea of heroics made her want to deny the word altogether.

"So you're just making it up then," he said in challenge, returning his sword to his hip.

"You are free to think so."

"Oh, come on! You can't say something like that and then turn coy," he spat, crossing his arms petulantly.

"I didn't say it to you." Come to think of it the Phoenix probably didn't know what it meant either. Still, it was the spirit of the name that mattered.

"What did you do? Defeat someone in dramatic single combat? A duel, perhaps?"

She snorted and gave him a dull look.

"Do I look like I go around duelling people?" she said with arms stretched at either side of her. She preferred to fight half a kilometre away from the action, for goodness' sake.

He scowled and shook a finger at her. "I will get it out of you sooner or later."

"Uh-huh." She crossed her arms and smiled.

He sighed and shook his head.

"Well, this was… fascinating," he said, still eyeing her suspiciously before he dropped his indignation and gave a small smile. "Though I suppose it brings an end to our training sessions."

"Thanks for all this. I really appreciate it."

"Not at all. I've always enjoyed a challenge," he said airily.

She snorted and shook her head. "I'll see you tomorrow." She clapped him on the shoulder and made for the door.

"What's happening tomorrow?" he called after her.

"Meeting, in Sephiroth's office," she said over her shoulder.

"Hmm, of course. Do you know what it's about?"

"Something about the invasion, I suppose."


Sephiroth stood on the bridge of a warship and studied the Wutai coast in the grey light of early morning, with its hidden defences, fortified rises, and the black barrels of heavy artillery set into the hills. His eyes swept over the rough and unaccommodating beaches, lined with stakes and barbed wire and harsh currents that would sweep away any ships that tried to moor.

He could almost taste the brittle anticipation of a fight settling over the Shinra fleet. Carrion birds flocked overhead – even they could sense the tension in the air and knew they would eat well soon enough. Naval officers shouted orders and the sailors moved on command, but silence had fallen over most of the army and SOLDIERs. Fear shone in the eyes of many, infantry and enhanced alike.

Sephiroth took a deep breath and soaked in the tense silence. Would the Wutai be the same? Was fear settling over the men guarding the beach? The silence wouldn't last, but he would give the Wutai something to fear.

His fingers twitched for the comfort of his blade. His sword was at his waist, and it was with great restraint he refrained from drawing it. There was no need yet, and the men would become unnerved if he drew it before the enemy were within range. There would be no lack of combat today.

He was ready for this fight: the havoc of combat, the rush of adrenaline, the perfect stillness he felt while fighting, cutting down the enemy before they saw him coming, his blade singing through the air. A dance he knew intimately; those who didn't know the steps would be left bleeding onto the pebbled beach.

"Sir."

"Guzzard." He nodded at the SOLDIER who came and stood next to him. The crews of the ships kept to themselves and the SOLDIERs did the same. The navy and the army were technically united under Director Heidegger, but they weren't Sephiroth's men.

This operation had seen him assume much control over the marine forces. He had needed to in order to pull off the massive endeavour he watched unfolding on the ocean around them.

The Wutai coast was rough and inhospitable. The natives were clearly hoping the geographical defences of their homeland would do most of the work. They should have known better. Shinra never let nature's designs get in the way.

"So that's what you were being so secretive about," Guzzard said, eyeing the giant concrete docks being towed towards the beaches. Prefabricated breakwaters, pier heads, and jetties all built on land and then towed from the western continent across the channel.

"There was no convenient harbour for the landing, so we had to bring one ourselves," he said, watching engineers and technicians work to arrange everything for the swiftest and smoothest landing possible.

A substantial amount of money was tied up in this manoeuvre, quantities the directors would normally kill for. The President had needed a lot of convincing, but he'd argued that there was no point in declaring a war if he wasn't prepared to spend the money needed to wage it. As far as anyone else knew, this was his idea. The one who suggested it to him insisted she not be credited.

Shepard was worth her weight in gold. Apparently, this strategy was first used by someone called 'Churchill.' She had been amused to be using it herself, for some reason. It was something about the 'Normandy Landings', though he didn't see why you would use a spaceship in conjunction with a strategy like this. She didn't deign to explain herself.

"Think it'll work?" Guzzard asked, eyeing a breakwater tied to a barge.

"I wouldn't have sunk so many resources into it if I didn't," he said, desperately hoping this gamble paid off. They could land thousands of men in a single morning and get a major foothold in Wutai if it did. They would lose a lot more than money if it didn't.

"Here's to hoping." Guzzard rolled his shoulders, his claymore on his back. He looked around, observing the SOLDIERs on deck and those visible on the surrounding ships. Taking note of who was where. And, more significantly, who wasn't there at all.

Angeal was still in Midgar. He would be part of the second wave of the invasion, but for now he was guarding HQ. Half of SOLDIER was involved in the first wave, but a couple of faces were noticeably unaccounted for.

Guzzard gave Sephiroth an inscrutable look and then watched the beach again.

"We're short-handed," he said.

"No, we aren't," he replied, carefully keeping his face blank.

He skipped past the questions he wouldn't ask and Sephiroth wouldn't answer. "Gonna give a speech?" he asked instead.

"No."

"Shame," he said, scratching his stubble. "I could have done with some inspiration."

"You'll have to supply your own."

He snorted. "Ever invaded an island before?"

"Have you?" he replied. They both knew perfectly well that neither of them had.

"Nope. And that cannon doesn't look very friendly." The heavy artillery sticking out of the bunkers, lodged in the side of the hill made for a foreboding sight. They were just out of range. The quiet wouldn't last for much longer.

"That isn't your concern," Sephiroth said, staring down the Wutai defences.

"I sure as hell hope someone is concerned about it," he muttered.

"Are you scared, Sergeant Guzzard?"

"Bloody terrified, Sir," he said plainly. "You?"

"Of course not," he said stiffly.

"Of course not," Guzzard repeated.

Sephiroth wanted to scowl at him, but the ship's captain was close enough to hear their conversation.

"You have your orders," he said. "We need the lower batteries along the beach disabled before we can bring the bulk of the infantry ashore. They will be cut to pieces otherwise."

Most of the infantry were undeniably better than they had been. They still needed some shielding, but they were a vital part of this invasion.

"It'll cut us to pieces too."

"Try ducking," he replied.

"Good idea, sir," Guzzard said gruffly. "Don't know why I didn't think of that."

Sephiroth refrained from pursing his lips like a vexed secretary. Guzzard was from a different generation of SOLDIER. The last of the old guard, really. He was reliable, trustworthy, and dangerous when he needed to be. Sephiroth also found him very irritating.

They both knew Guzzard had been passed over for General, though the two of them had never talked about it. He was never insubordinate, and he followed orders to the letter. But as someone with much more experience than Sephiroth, Guzzard had a way of acting as though he was humouring him. It wasn't anything he could punish him for, or even tell him to stop because what was he actually doing?

It was nothing more than a persistent air of 'this will be your fault when it all goes wrong.' No wonder Shepard liked him.

"How long did it take before Fort Condor learned to fear SOLDIER?" Sephiroth asked grimly, his eyes on the beach again. The rat-tat-tat of artillery fire had started, the ships closest to the shore finally within range. His heart rate increased. It was almost time.

"They still don't."


"I bet I'll take out one of the heavy cannons before you do," Genesis said, tapping his foot on the floor of the small plane and adjusting the straps of his parachute. Outside the first glimmer of dawn was just starting to crest the horizon, while heavy clouds amassed in the west.

"I'll take that bet," Shepard replied, doing that same. Whoever had designed the parachutes had clearly assumed she would be wearing standard SOLDIER armour, instead of slick interlocking plate armour. It had taken a lot of adjustments to ensure she could still get at her gun while wearing it. "Loser shouts the first round of beers when we get back."

"I don't drink beer," He said, crossing his arms, and then uncrossing them to readjust the straps again. He didn't like the way they pulled at his coat. "You suffer from such poor taste."

Genesis made inane and petty conversation when he was nervous. She humoured it. So long as he was focused when they got on the ground he could bicker as much as he liked ahead of time.

"ETA five minutes." The pilot's voice crackled over the plane's intercom.

Genesis took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

She reflexively took another look at the map on her Omni-tool. The fleet should already be halfway across the channel by now, premade harbour in tow. She studied the layout of defences behind enemy lines. Out of sight from the shore, batteries of mortars and cannons would lob shells over the Wutai fortifications onto anyone trying to storm the beach.

All the Wutai defences faced the ocean. Nobody watched the skies or roads leading inland.

With a flick of her wrist she deactivated the Omni-tool. She had already taken the time to memorise all the available information, EDI wasn't here to add any last minute updates.

"Why do you get to be in charge?" Genesis said, adjusting his earpiece, "I've been in SOLDIER for longer."

"When did you last sneak behind enemy lines and take out a base?" She checked that his radio was linked to her Omni-tool.

"Friday," he said, sending one last scowl at the parachute on his back. Technically, SOLDIERs of their level should be able to survive a fall from this height, but that assumed they didn't pass out from oxygen deprivation, that they fell and landed with perfect technique on flat ground, and that nobody was shooting at them.

"Simulations don't count," She said.

Final checks were done. With a nod he verified he was ready. She rolled her shoulders and radioed the pilot.

The cargo ramp opened before them and the howl of wind filled the compartment, pulling at them.

The fields of Wutai raced past far below.

The two SOLDIERs jumped.


A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews feed the Muse.

Next Time: The Fiery Crucible