"Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot last time."

"You don't say," he said softly, humor ringing through his voice. "I wonder who's fault that was?"

This wasn't quite the start she'd hoped for—Aerith already wanted to punch him. "I'm not going to apologize, Cleaver," she warned.

"Of course not. The almighty, perfect Bella, apologize? Why, a meteor might end up striking the planet, killing us all. We couldn't have that, now could we?"

Her fists clenched tight. By the Planet, why was he so good at pushing her buttons? It didn't help that she knew he had the higher ground in this fight—she had overreacted last time. Still, she wasn't as petty as he seemed to think she was. She could admit when she'd made a mistake. Couldn't she?

Aerith swallowed. "I'm sorry for the way I acted last time," she muttered.

The bastard's eyes actually widened. This had been an enormous mistake, she couldn't believe she'd said it. There was no way—

"Huh, color me surprised. Apology accepted."

—he'd actually accept it. Hold on . . . what had he just said? She blinked. "Wait, just like that?"

"You made a mistake and then had the guts to admit it." He shrugged. "I respect that."

Damn him, why did he have to be so . . . like-able? It would have been much easier to go on hating him. But . . . she had to admit, this was fine too—in its own way. Aerith plopped down next to him, her legs dangling over the abyss beneath them.

"So, how'd your visit with the Master go?" he asked, glancing over.

She didn't really want to think back on that. "It was fine. It was nice to see Cerberus again. The Master was the Master. He gave me some new missions and sent me back." The details of those missions were private. If he'd wanted Cleaver to know about them, he would have told her.

Cleaver considered her for a moment, his face a mask that didn't reveal even a hint of what he was thinking. "Only those two? Were Dolphin and Kunai not there?"

"No, they were, I got to meet them."

His head jolted in surprise, a frown on his face. "Wait, are you saying it was your first time seeing the two of them?"

Aerith nodded. "Dolphin seemed to recognize me for a moment? But then she said it was a mistake, and I don't remember either of them." She didn't mind the direction the conversation had taken, it would make it easier for her to ask about Cleaver's history without it seeming odd.

"That's odd. Kunai is almost never away from the base. Dolphin spends a lot less time there but shows up at least once a week. Thinking back, I guess I can't actually recall either of them ever talking about you. What did you think of them?"

It was a good question, one she probably should have had an immediate answer for, but didn't. She hadn't spent much time thinking about the conversations she'd had with the two other women. "Dolphin seemed nice enough, although she wasn't feeling well so we didn't get to talk much. Kunai was . . ." Aerith trailed off, her cheeks flushing slightly. She really didn't want to talk about that conversation with Cleaver of all people.

"I think I know what you mean," Cleaver said, chuckling. "Kunai is certainly one of a kind. If she's not trying to play a prank on you, then she's . . . uh, well, I'm sure you understand."

"Wait, have you—" Dear Gaia, what was wrong with her? Had she seriously almost asked that? Her face felt like it was on fire.

An alarmed look flashed across Cleaver's face before he firmly shook his head. "No! No, I haven't."

Great, way to go Aerith. Excellently done. Smooth as always.

Desperate to change the topic of the conversation, she went with the question she'd been wanting to ask. "Obviously we never met either, when did you start your training?"

A thoughtful look crossed his face. "Oh, that would have been about six years ago. I used to be a mercenary and then one night the Master showed up, asking if I wanted a better use for my talents. I was intrigued so I said yes."

A spike of jealousy surged through her. Only six years? And he already had the suit? That was astonishing, far faster than it had taken her. Aerith's only consolation was Cerberus's words saying she was better. Not that it was a competition. It was just . . . frustrating, to learn he'd picked something up so much faster than she'd been able to. This also meant it was impossible for Cleaver to have been the one mentioned in the conversation she'd overheard—so it must have been Kunai in the end? One more confusing piece added to the jumble.

"Bella?"

Aerith jumped, Cleaver's voice pulling her out of her thoughts. "Sorry. That's really impressive, that you have a suit already. Did anyone other than Cerberus or the Master train you?"

"You mean another Shadow?" he asked in confusion. "Is there someone I haven't met?"

So much for that idea.

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I just have a strange memory of there being someone else when I was younger. Maybe they left before you joined." She wasn't even sure if leaving was an option, much less why someone would want to. "Anyways, enough of that, we should get to training."

"Training?"

Curses, that meant he wasn't aware. Bracing herself for the inevitable response, she forced herself to go on. "Cerberus and the Master both said I was supposed to help train you, but neither of them explained how. I was kind of hoping they might have told you."

"Oh. No, they didn't, this is the first I'm hearing of it."

She blinked in surprise. Wait, that was it? No scathing remarks, no criticisms? She really had been unfair with her earlier opinion of him. "The Master said something about a final test, but I'm not even sure what he meant by that. Is there anything, in particular, you want to focus on?"

A flicker of recognition passed through Cleaver's eyes before a slow smile spread across his face. "You know, our little duel last time was actually pretty fun. I'd be up for a second round if you're not afraid of losing to me again," he said, smirking.

Aerith's mouth dropped open. "Wait just a minute there, mister. I seem to recall you hitting the ground at the same time I did."

He waved his hand, standing up and walking towards the center of the roof. "Technicalities. We both know I was the winner."

She hopped to her feet, striding over to join him. "I am so going to make you regret those words."

"Oh yeah?"

"You betcha." She had to struggle not to smile. It was nice to be able to relax like this with another Shadow. Someone who'd gone through the same training as she had, who knew what it was like. At the same time, she still cautioned herself to remember that Cleaver wasn't a friend. Shadows didn't have friends.

He unsheathed the sword from his back, turning to face her, a grin on his lips. "Let's see you try."

Aerith grabbed her staff from where it hung in its collapsed form at her waist, quickly extending it to its full length. "What, starting with your sword? Not going to try and beat me with your fists again?"

"Nah, you proved last time that I have to give it my all to fight on par with you."

Damn it, why did his words have to fill her with such joy? It wasn't fair. She realized she was looking forward to this. A contest between two Shadows to see who could come out on top, who the better fighter was. And Aerith was determined to win. She knew in a contest of pure strength, she was no match for him. But that didn't matter—not in the least.

Duck, dodge, weave. The strongest doesn't win the fight, the last one standing does.

Cerberus's words echoed in her head, and she said a silent thank you to the man. The closest she'd ever come in training to fighting someone with as much strength as Cleaver had been with the Master, and even he didn't manage to reach the same level of power—focusing more on speed and precision than brute force. Despite this, she wasn't worried. Their last battle had already been close, and she'd been too upset then to properly focus. This time, he was going down.

Spinning her staff, she began to circle him. Cleaver pivoted with her, keeping her in front of him at all times, his sword held at a downward angle with the hilt by his head. She wasn't familiar with the stance, was it some kind of counter position? It certainly seemed like he'd have a wide range of movement available if she were to just charge in.

If he were a normal opponent, his strategy wouldn't work. She'd be able to outreach him with her staff and bludgeon him from a distance. The problem was his damn sword, and how huge it was. It still amazed her how quickly he was able to swing it around—sometimes even with only one hand. She knew better than to underestimate him and wasn't going to strike at an unfamiliar stance, which made this a deadlock.

Aerith planted her staff on the ground, frowning at him. "Are you really just going to stand there all night? Don't tell me you're—"

He lunged at her in the blink of an eye. Even having seen it before, she was still caught off guard. How was he so damn fast? Aerith spun, whirling her staff around and forcing him to parry her strike or else take a blow directly to his face. He used the contact between their weapons to throw his weight against her, causing her to stumble backward in surprise. Like a strike of lightning, his sword flashed out, ever so delicately grazing her side.

"First blood," he said, smiling widely.

Aerith shook her head ruefully, conceding the point. "Next hit's mine!" she shouted, charging at him with her staff spinning in a blur.

Cleaver managed to deflect blow after blow, forced to concede ground under the withering hail of strikes. As they drew closer to the edge of the roof, he dove to the side, presumably realizing she'd end up driving him off at this rate. It was exactly what she'd been aiming for, her staff flicking out and smacking him in the butt—causing him to almost fall over.

She giggled softly as he straightened up. "See, told ya."

"Taking advantage of your surroundings, nice. I wonder who taught you that?" He grinned.

"Only the very best," she said proudly.

"Would you have actually run me off the roof?"

She pretended to consider his question for a moment. "Hmmm, well you are wearing the suit . . ."

Cleaver looked at her in horror. "Bella, seriously?! That's a seventy-story fall!"

"Yup!" She smiled encouragingly at him. "You woulda been fine, don't worry about it."

"Remind me to never get on your bad side . . ."

Aerith decided not to mention he already had. He'd moved into 'maybe not the worst' for the time being, although he was gradually approaching 'actually kinda okay' levels to her surprise. Not that he'd be able to make it past that point.

"That's one each." Cleaver turned and walked back toward the center of the roof. "Time for me to claim my rightful victory, now that I let you even the score."

She slowly followed, ready for him to whirl around and attack at any moment. Part of her wanted to run up and try to hit him again, but she had a feeling that was exactly what he was waiting for. "Let me, huh? That's funny, I seem to recall you not wanting to go skydiving."

"A minor detail," he said, turning around to face her. "We can just forget about that, right?"

Aerith smirked softly at him. "I don't think I'll ever be able to forget your face at that moment."

"That's so nice of you. Just try and keep your dreams of me decent."

Her eyes felt like they were about to pop out of her head. "What?! I—"

"Now, where were we? Ah, right, I was going to show you a real move."

In a shockingly fast movement, Cleaver leaped into the air, executing a flawless front flip—his sword arcing through the air with a deadly hiss, directly down at her. Aerith threw herself to the side, knowing there was no possible way for her to block something like that. The edge of the blade smashed into the ground where she'd been standing, a loud crashing noise ringing throughout the air around them. The move left him slightly exposed, however, and she spun in a circle—swinging her staff in a clean horizontal strike to his back.

"Maybe a bit less of the kill-y blows, please?" she panted, stepping backward to put more distance between them.

Cleaver grinned at her. "Come on, there was no way you wouldn't dodge that. Nice hit, by the way."

"Thanks." Aerith smiled back, then forced herself to remember this wasn't all fun and games. This was a serious training match. One she was going to win.

It was time to mix things up a bit. She grabbed her staff by one end, dramatically extending her reach at the cost of power. Cleaver raised an eye at this, taking a step away from her. She immediately followed after him, a low sweeping strike aimed at his feet. As she expected, he easily jumped over the attack, but now that he was in the air, dodging was no longer an option.

She spun her entire body, using the motion to amplify the speed and strength of her strike. Cleaver's eyes bulged as he could only helplessly watch it slam into him, sending him crashing to the ground. Oops. Maybe she'd overdone that. Just a tad?

"You fight dirty," Cleaver moaned, slowly getting back to his feet and dusting himself off.

She couldn't contain her giggle. "Of course I do. Fighting fair—"

"—is for fools," he said, finishing the line. Yes, he'd certainly been trained by Cerberus alright. Cleaver planted his blade against the ground, leaning against it as he caught his breath. "This is so much better than training with the old man."

Aerith knew he didn't mean it in terms of learning—she was extremely aware she didn't have nearly the same depth of knowledge as her instructor—but rather how enjoyable the experience was. Cerberus and the word 'fun' didn't exactly go together. Shockingly, she realized how comfortable she was acknowledging that. She was having fun. With Cleaver. How unexpected.

"It's certainly different," she said, refusing to let him know how much she was also enjoying it. "Although I can't help but imagine this wasn't exactly what he had in mind."

"Eh, not really worth worrying about, is it? If that stick-in-the-mud had some kind of goal he should have been more clear."

Aerith frowned. "Show some respect. We owe Cerberus a lot."

He dismissed her comment with a wave. "I'm a little disappointed though. Can't you do anything else other than waving that little stick around?"

"You're certainly confident, taunting me like that. Last I checked I was ahead of you on hits."

She did have one, large trick left up her sleeve. Deciding to use it and teach him a lesson once and for all, Aerith concentrated on a Materia set into her staff. With a flickering surge of power, the metal crackled, lightning flaring to life around it. The faint smell of burnt air filled her nose.

"Uh, on second thought, can we go back to before?"

It was her turn to grin. "What, afraid of a little shock?"

She was slightly underselling it, but not by a lot. The Shadowsuit's most potent defensive mechanism was how it interacted with Materia—specifically how it largely negated magic. She knew if she attempted to cast Thundaga at him, the spell would instead fizzle, unable to locate a target. On the other hand, by infusing her weapon like this, her blows would now transmit at least some portion of the elemental energy surging around the staff.

"No!" he protested—the slight half step backward betraying his true thoughts. "That looks rather . . . intense, though."

"If you want to surrender we can stop now," Aerith taunted, knowing it would provoke him to do the exact opposite.

As expected, he frowned, halting his retreat and glaring at her. His lips moved briefly, but even with the suit's aid, she wasn't able to make out what he said before he rushed at her once again, his sword moving in a rapid flurry of strikes. Aerith swung her staff to block, a flash of lightning branching off of her weapon as his sword hit it. Cleaver flinched away, and she took advantage of the opening, twirling her staff around so the other end connected solidly with his stomach.

A low moan escaped Cleaver's lips as his eyes watered. "Oh yeah. That stings alright," he gasped, staggering away.

A flicker of concern passed through her. She'd never actually hit another Shadow with this attack before, had she underestimated how painful it would be? If she'd actually hurt him . . . "Cleaver, are you—"

His sword flashed up, catching her by surprise and nearly hitting her leg as she barely managed to avoid it. "Dang, I thought that would be enough to get you." He straightened up, smirking at her. "I'm fine, you sounded a little concerned there though. Worried you'd hurt me?" he asked, one eye raised.

"No!" It was her turn to lie, and by the smug look on Cleaver's face, he was aware of it.

Angrily, she charged at him, no longer worried about her enhanced strikes since it seemed like the initial one hadn't actually fazed him all that much. Time passed in a blur as their battle continued, neither of them able to land a solid hit. Each time his sword connected with her staff a thunderclap filled the cold night air, a bolt of lightning flaring out. Aerith wondered if anyone down below could hear the sounds of their fight and was puzzled by the cloudless thunderstorm.

Eventually, they found themselves once again in a position where their weapons were locked together, reminiscent of their first fight together all those nights ago. This time, she knew better than to let him distract her, her eyes watching for a similar strike as before. Which was probably why his next move ended up working so well.

Cleaver twisted his sword, caching her staff even more tightly against his cross guard before he jerked his body to the side—forcing her to either let go or be thrown to the ground. She decided to release her grip—the lightning instantly vanishing—before falling back into a defensive stance as her staff clattered against the ground to the side. Cleaver smiled widely, tossing his sword down next to it with a crash.

"Let's see how good you are at hand-to-hand combat, shall we?"

Aerith wasn't overly worried, although she knew Cleaver had a massive advantage now—regardless of training. If he managed to get a solid grapple on her it was likely over, the massive strength difference between them overwhelmingly favoring him in this situation. Still, she wasn't about to give up, it was possible for her to still win.

He began to move towards her, keeping himself between her and their weapons as she tried to circle around him. While she hadn't expected it to work, it had at least been worth a try. Taking a deep breath, Aerith tried to remember as much as she possibly could about the hand-to-hand lessons she'd had with Cerberus.

Unfortunately, there hadn't been a whole lot of those. Brawling was a last resort, something you'd only fall back on in the extremely unlikely scenario of somehow being disarmed. She was starting to realize how poorly she'd been trained in anti-Shadow combat—presumably since it wasn't likely to ever happen. Her lack of experience wasn't all bad, however. This was supposed to be a training session, so it would at least still prove to be a valuable experience—even if she wasn't supposed to be the student here.

Cleaver leaped at her, his hands reaching for her shoulders. Aerith dropped into a crouch, shifting to the side and catching him around the waist. Stepping in, she slipped her leg between his and shoved with her shoulder—using his momentum in her favor. Cleaver dropped to the ground, a look of bewilderment on his face before he smiled up at her.

"Hey, that was really smooth, nice!" He bounced back to his feet immediately afterward, dropping into a crouch mirroring hers.

"We were trained by the same person, after all. Cerberus would never let me hear the end of it if I couldn't handle a basic attack like that."

Cleaver nodded. "Let's take it up a notch then."

This time he approached her more cautiously, keeping his weight low with his legs crouched and not rushing in off-balance. Their arms grappled together, each trying to get a firm grip on the other, the suits making it difficult to get any good leverage. This was bad, exactly the kind of situation she wanted to avoid. Her best chance of winning this match was through not allowing him to control the flow of the battle, not when his raw strength was such an advantage. Twisting, she attempted to slip free from his grip, but his arms tightened around her, his head pressing firmly into her chest.

Both of them were breathing heavily by this point, Cleaver struggling to drop her to the ground as she continued to try and escape while looking for an opportunity to flip the tables on him. Unfortunately, just as she was about to pull free, Cleaver managed to sneak a leg around behind her, sending them both crashing to the ground in a heap. A frantic scramble ensued, limbs thrashing as they each vied for control.

They ended up with Cleaver pinning her to the roof, his hands firmly holding her arms above her head. Their faces were directly next to each other, his eyes piercing into hers. Their lungs were pounding for air, her breasts repeatedly pressing into his chest with each inhale. One of Cleaver's legs was firmly planted between her own, held tightly against her core.

"Bella," he whispered, huskily.

Aerith's heart was pounding—her body on fire—a flurry of emotions coursing through her. A part of her was screaming at her to get him off, to get out of such a vulnerable position. Another part of her—a newer, unfamiliar part—very much wanted him to stay exactly where he was. "Cleaver, I—"

His nose brushed against hers as he lowered his head, the motion shocking her. Her leg jerked in surprise, catching him directly between his legs. Hard. Grunting, he rolled off of her, his eyes clenched shut.

She was up and leaning over him in an instant, her hand gently resting on his arm. "I am so sorry."

"I'm fine," he moaned, sounding decidedly not fine. "The male suit has some extra protection there, but you still got me good."

"Sorry . . ."

After a few moments and lots of deep breaths, Cleaver finally chuckled. "Never a dull moment with you, is there?"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Aerith said, falling back to lie on the roof next to him, now that he seemed to be doing better.

The black expanse of the night sky stretched out over them. Unfortunately, the blinking lights of the helicopter pad, combined with the glaring brightness of the city, made it impossible to make out any stars. The moon was full and beautiful, however, so she focused on it—enjoying the brief moment of peacefulness.

"So, how's it feel, being the winner?" Cleaver asked, pulling her attention back down to the roof.

"That was an accident. You won as soon as you pinned me." Merely mentioning it caused her entire body to flood with heat, remembering the thrill the position had filled her with.

"I wish that were true, but you got the final blow in," he said, laughing softly. "Regardless of intent, you had me out cold."

She smiled, even though she knew he wouldn't be able to see it. The fight had been as great as their first, if not more so. Still, it didn't feel right claiming victory given the situation around the last hit. "A draw, then," she proposed.

"Again? If I didn't know better, I'd think you were looking for an excuse for another rematch."

Was that what she was doing? And if it were, was that so wrong? "Maybe I am," she quietly admitted.

"Bella! Are you actually falling for my stunningly good sword skills?"

She laughed loudly at that, unable to control herself. He almost sounded like Zack, with that supreme sense of self-confidence. The thought immediately killed her laughter. What was she doing, comparing the two of them? That wasn't fair to either man, not to mention that it filled her with extremely complicated feelings around her relationship with each of them.

"Sorry, that was a terrible joke, you okay?"

His words were a feeble lifeline, but she seized onto them—anything to pull her away from that last train of thought. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just . . . tired."

"We should call it a night then, I'm sure we both have plenty to do tomorrow." Cleaver paused for a moment. "I'll see you tomorrow night?" he asked hopefully.

Tomorrow was a ball and her mission with Tseng. The exhaustion she'd largely feigned seconds ago slammed into her—she'd completely forgotten about everything during her time with Cleaver. It was shocking she'd managed to stop thinking about it, but now the brutal reality of what tomorrow held in store was suffocating her. She knew it was wrong, she should be eager to follow her master's orders, but a part of her was so mad.

Angry that the dances were being tainted by these orders. The first night of the ball had been so incredible, immediately becoming something that meant so much to her. She'd been looking forward to the next one, even if she'd been hesitant to admit that. Now it was ruined, irrevocably tarnished by forcing her to kill someone while there. She blamed Tseng. It wasn't fair, but there was no one else for her to pin it on.

"Bella?"

She'd gotten lost in her thoughts again, Cleaver's hand resting on her shoulder pulling her out of them. He was propped up on his elbow, looking down at her in concern. She smiled up at him, hesitantly, hating that he was seeing her in a moment of such weakness. There wasn't any judgment in his eyes, however, nothing except for concern. It . . . threw her off. And made her realize that tonight had been exactly what she needed.

"Yeah, I'll be here tomorrow."

Somehow. She'd figure it out, for Cleaver. Hopefully, he'd be able to do what he'd done tonight and help take her mind off of what she'd ruined.

"It's a date then."

"Yeah, a date," she repeated, not really paying attention. The words hit her a second later, causing her to jerk upright—her head narrowly avoiding a collision with his. "Wait, what?!"

He looked as shocked as she was. "Are you sure you're okay? I was expecting you to shut me down there."

"I'm fine, I wasn't paying attention. Can we just forget about that?" From the growing grin on his face, she already knew that wasn't an option.

"Oh no, I'm not letting you off that easily. I bet I can get a table up here. Maybe a nice, candle-lit dinner, out under the stars? Music would be a bit more challenging, can't exactly kidnap a band and then ask them to play for two Shadows. I'll have to think about that a bit more, I'm sure I can come up with something."

It took all of her self-control not to smile. "Okay, now you're just being ridiculous." Even if a small part of her did think it sounded nice—she buried it away.

Aerith knew he was trying to cheer her up, not understanding why she'd become so quiet, and she appreciated it. But it wasn't as simple as being cheerful again—nothing could stop what was going to happen. It was her own fault for getting so attached to the balls in the first place.

The best thing she could do in this scenario was to get out of there. She hopped to her feet, forcing herself not to look over at Cleaver. "I've got to go."

"Right. Take care, Bella." Was that a note of sadness in his voice? Surely not, her exhaustion was making her hear things now.

Her brief journey home was filled with conflicting thoughts. She should have been planning out her mission, deciding what to wear, mapping out escape routes, coming up with a plan. Instead, she tried to focus on the training session they'd just had, and how undeniably exciting it had been. She knew it was dangerous. Just like she'd gotten too attached to the balls, letting herself get too close to Cleaver could only ever result in disaster. Moving forward, she'd need to make sure to keep a more professional distance between them, no matter how much a part of her didn't want to.

Reaching her room, Aerith stripped off her suit and fell into bed, struggling not to think of tomorrow and the conflict brewing within her. It was silly—she'd only been to a single dance. Any connection she felt towards them was artificial, fake. She would faithfully execute her mission tomorrow, killing Tseng, and then return to protecting Rufus from any other threats. That's all there was to it. Content, she fell into a deep sleep.

Her dreams gave the lie to her thoughts—a faceless man in a tuxedo leading her around a dance floor in a swirl of skirts.

I hope people are still enjoying the story and are excited to see more of Cleaver after he's been out of the picture for a while. This chapter was more challenging than most since there's so much action, but hopefully, you're liking the growing dynamic between Aerith and Cleaver.

Thanks for reading.

Next Chapter: Kiss