Chapter Forty-Two: Graves

"Mr. Ratcliff?"

Ratcliff held a finger to his lips and scowled at Pawn to be quiet. The boy had whispered that so quietly as it was, that Ratcliff's gesture was unnecessary. There was no way that the two snoring men beside them in the beds could even hear.

"Where are you–"

The gesture was made again, this time with a hush.

"Just go back to sleep, yeah? Never mind what I'm doing." Ratcliff lowered his hand to the doorknob. "I'll be back."

Pawn sat up, his wild strawberry-blond hair sticking out every which way … which wasn't very much different from how it looked normally. Ratcliff oftentimes wondered if the boy knew what a comb was, and he couldn't stop himself from cracking a small smile. Cloud's hair looked like that in the mornings, too …

"If they wake up and ask where I am, you don't know anything, yeah?"

"But–"

"Good. Go back to sleep." He slipped out the door.

The inn was as quiet as the night. The only change in ambience as he left the building was the cool mountain air hitting him. The silence went from the inn and out into the town, and being so used to the loud clamor of city life in Midgar, he wasn't surprised that the silence made his ears almost hurt. Crickets, the occasional animal sound – something, anything would have been able to settle his nerves right then, but there was nothing. The wind even seemed still.

He went to the Shinra mansion with a wavering resolve. It was strong as he stepped foot outside of the inn, but now as he neared the weathered and large double doors, he felt it slipping away. He didn't know what he was trying to do … or why. If he found Graves, it would change nothing. He couldn't stop him back in Kalm, now would be no different.

But the mansion doors were locked.

His own curses that left his mouth startled him, the sound disrupting the eerie silence hovering around. He cursed a few more times, pressing a hand to his chest as his heart thumped, but he realized that it wasn't his voice that scared him, but a shuffling sound behind him. He turned quickly.

"Mr. Ratcliff?"

"Dammit, Pawn," Ratcliff said, his voice shuddering with the tense breath that he released. "I told you to stay behind, yeah. What the hell are you doing here?"

Pawn shifted on his feet, his eyes peering at him sheepishly from beneath his helmet. "I-I could ask you … the same." He suddenly looked afraid that he had even said that.

Ratcliff sighed heavily as he tried to decide if he could fully trust this boy or not. "I'm … looking for Graves. I want to find him first and warn him that we're here, yeah."

Pawn just nodded slowly.

"Can I trust you?"

He nodded again, looking a bit more fearful now. "O-of course. W-we're friends … right?"

Ratcliff studied the boy's expression for a moment, then looked around to see if either of the two others were following them. Nothing but dead silence. "Then follow me, yeah," he eventually said, his gaze meeting the boy's. "I could use a second pair of eyes."

Pawn hesitated, but then nodded once more.

The dirt path in the town became less flat and more rugged. Smooth earth turned to rough terrain, lined with boulders and evidence of monsters lurking about. Withering trees – life sapped selfishly from their roots, decaying and broken, were the welcome mat of the haunting structure above them. Its silhouette an ominous contrast against the moon in the night sky.

Cloud was wrong. They had plenty of time to play with each other when they got back to the Shin-Ra building after their evening in the park. But they didn't. They couldn't. Zack spent most of his night kneeling on the bathroom floor next to Cloud, who spent most of his night vomiting in the toilet. During their walk back, Cloud's pace had slowed and his balance was a bit wobbly, still blaming it on getting dizzy from having watched the stars for too long. By the time they got back, the first thing he did was drop to his knees and see his dinner in reverse, as Zack tried to put it lightheartedly.

His joke went unappreciated, but his soothing words and a mild back rub didn't during their time in the bathroom. Zack was starting to feel a bit nauseous as well, but he wasn't sure if it was because of their dinner like they suspected, or from watching Cloud for a good few hours.

After a while, all they both could do was crawl into bed and silently hope that the other didn't move around so much. The night was long, with plenty of false alarms and a few real ones as well. Cloud had gotten up several times to stumble back into the bathroom where his body tried to expel whatever was possibly left inside his stomach, which couldn't have been much at that point. It was a tiring night, but at the very least, they got to hold each other.

In the morning, Zack felt better; Cloud didn't. As much as the blond tried to deny it, Zack could tell he still wasn't feeling well from the sound of the prescription bottle opening discreetly in Cloud's hands. He knew it was a prescription from the tan color of the bottle, but for what exact ailment, he was unsure. He was more than a little tempted to ask Cloud what it was for.

"Cloud?" Zack was kneeling again, but this time it was next to the couch, where Cloud lay with his arm slung over his head in what looked like pain.

Cloud pulled his arm away, slowly giving him a rather hazy smile. "Maybe we shouldn't eat at that place for a while."

"I've been trying to think of what you had that I didn't," Zack said, frowning thoughtfully. "I think it was the shrimp."

Cloud just grunted a response, his arm sliding back over his forehead. He remained still for a few moments, except to smile again when Zack's hand began to stroke his stomach lightly. "I'm fine, Zack. Just a little tired is all."

"Sorry for taking you there."

"You sound like me now – apologizing for something you have no control over." Cloud chuckled at the irony of it all. "It's not like you were the one that got me sick."

"I still feel bad though." Zack began to use his index finger to draw little nothingnesses against his stomach, but the shirt that Cloud wore was getting in the way of his 'art'. The fabric tangled around his fingertip and he frowned as though offended.

Cloud pulled his hand away once more and smiled a smile that seemed a bit clearer now. "Do I have to force you to kiss me when you say the 's' word now?"

"You never have to force me to do something like that," Zack said, returning the smile.

"I figured as much." Cloud turned onto his side on the couch, now using his arm as a pillow instead. He looked as though just that simple turn made his body disagree with the movement, and Zack couldn't tell if he was going to vomit again, or if it was something else.

He sat for a moment, stroking Cloud's hip now. "I've been meaning to ask you, Cloud."

Light blue eyes met his nervously, and Zack realized that the way he had said that was filled with a tone that could only suggest the conversation was about to turn.

"What's the prescription for?"

"What … prescription?"

Zack stared at him flatly for a moment, and that caused the boy to shift uncomfortably on the cushions. "Please don't play dumb with me."

Cloud was quiet. Very quiet. So quiet that it seemed as though his breathing had stopped to focus all his energy on his brain, which was surely coming up with some sort of excuse. "It's just medicine," he eventually said.

"I know that it is," Zack said, somewhat curtly. "I guess if you don't want to tell me, that's fine."

"I mean," Cloud began, nibbling on his bottom lip for a second. "It's for nothing major, if that's what you're thinking."

"Okay …"

"It's just for my head."

Zack scoffed, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

"I mean, there's nothing wrong with my head!" Cloud sat up quickly, which didn't startle Zack as much as the boy's frantic tone had. "N-not like that! I mean …!"

"Cloud, it's okay," Zack said, sliding up onto the couch next to him. He reached down and grabbed Cloud's hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "I know what you meant."

His face was red and his eyes were nowhere near Zack's. "I've just been … getting headaches, is all."

"Okay, that's all I wanted to know," Zack said delicately. He honestly wasn't surprised that Cloud had to take something like this, given his past injuries. And he honestly wasn't surprised that Cloud had been trying to keep it a secret. "Do you have to take them regularly, or just when you feel them coming on …?"

Cloud turned away, bringing his knees up onto the couch and he wrapped his arms about them. "I thought you said that's all you wanted to know."

Zack was taken aback. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

They both apologized to each other at the same time.

They both chuckled at the same time, and they both leaned in at the same time to kiss.

… And they both sighed heavily when Zack's phone rang.

He answered his phone with disdain, voicing even more when he realized he was being called for a short mission. He pecked Cloud on the cheek with a shrug and promised he would not only be back soon, but he would be back with medicine for Cloud's upset stomach.

He left with Cloud promising that he would feel better before he came back with that medicine.

This time, Cloud was right. By the time Zack had returned, he was already up and cleaning around the apartment, feeling better. It looked and smelled as if Cloud had attempted to make some sort of meal for them, but the sink full of dishes and the full trashcan was evidence that it was a failed attempt. Zack walked in and took a peek inside to see that it was two grilled cheese sandwiches – burnt and charred.

"Hey!" Zack moved aside a crumpled paper towel that was covering them to get a better look. "Why did you throw these away? I'm starved!"

Cloud turned around from washing the dishes, jumping a little at Zack's voice. "I didn't hear you come in!"

Zack ignored him and bent down, pulling one out with a horrified expression. He held it up in front of Cloud, as though he committed some sort of heinous crime by having thrown it away.

"What?" Cloud laughed a little, mostly at Zack's wide eyes. "I burnt them. I'll try and make another if you want." He went to get the bread and cheese again. "Throw that away, you look like you're about to eat it," he said with a chuckle.

Zack raised his eyebrows as though to dare him.

Cloud just looked at him flatly, then grabbed it from him and tossed it back into the trashcan. "I thought you hated burnt grilled cheese anyway." He turned to the stove and began to prepare everything.

"I love it," Zack said in a singsong voice, leaning up against the counter to watch him.

Cloud frowned for a brief moment. "Oh." He put the pan on the range. "I thought you said you didn't like it burnt."

Zack reached over and kissed Cloud on the head, giving him a small nuzzle with his nose before he pulled away. "Nope, I told you I liked it burnt. But really, I'll eat it however you serve it."

He was still frowning, looking as though he were trying to rack his brain. "Are you sure? I could've sworn …" He trailed off, then just turned to Zack with a small smile. "Okay, one burnt sandwich coming up."

And it was quite burnt. Not because Cloud failed at cooking it again, but because Zack distracted him with a bit of kissing, and a little touching the moment the sandwich hit the pan. They lost track of just how long they were at it, and it wasn't until the smell of smoke floated in the air did they realize that Zack was indeed getting what he wanted out of that sandwich.

He had tried to paw at the temperature dial to turn the heat off, but Cloud latching onto his lips was making it hard. He nearly flipped the pan off the stove when his hand came down on the handle, and that was when he had to pull away from the boy.

Cloud was looking flustered when they parted, and he even tried to continue kissing Zack as he stepped back over to the stove. His hands were still smoothing across Zack's shoulders, and his body was still trying to press against his, rubbing slowly for pleasure. He whimpered a little, almost pouting, but when he caught sight of Zack's dinner, he sheepishly stopped.

Admittedly, this was perhaps too burnt for Zack's liking, but he ate it anyway – and quickly. There wasn't much time between finishing the sandwich and kissing Cloud again, even less time between their kissing and moving towards the bedroom. The brief thought of not having turned off the stove crossed Zack's mind, but it was easily forgotten the moment that Cloud closed the bedroom door after them.

They walked for what seemed like hours, traveling through the winding paths and through the constant sound of things scurrying about nearby. Weapons were held close and ears were piqued with apprehension. An encounter with a monster would be grave for their position, as those weapons they held close were there only for a feeling of blind security. A single gunshot would tear through the silence of the town and would be the perfect alert to those whom Ratcliff didn't want to be alerted.

A few curious creatures were fended off with their batons, albeit clumsily, but fatigue from their trek through the mountain path was proving to be harder to fend off. The paths weren't hard to navigate around, as they were visibly laid out for them along the mountains, and all they had to do was look up to find their way. It was just a matter of time and energy, which adrenaline and determination helped them along, as well as a few rickety bridges swaying over dark ravines.

They reached the mako reactor, and neither said anything at first, almost as though they were in awe of what stood before them. Perhaps it was the unsettled feeling of not knowing exactly why they were there, and neither having any sort of real answer to offer each other, even if it was brought up.

Eventually, the unease between them was deterred for just a moment as Ratcliff forced a laugh, looking up at the heavy metal door as he walked up the steps. "Not so creepy up close, yeah? Seems rather small compared to the ones in Midgar." He glanced back to Pawn, who was following him nervously and looking a little more than tired.

He said nothing.

Ratcliff hesitated for a moment as he reached the keypad. He turned to Pawn once more with his own nervous look and entered in a sequence of numbers from memory. The massive lock was disengaged with a beep of the keypad, and the door slid open.

"Wait, w-what're you d-doing?" Pawn trotted up the steps, following as Ratcliff started to enter the reactor. "We can't be in here."

"Then stay outside," he said simply.

"H-how did you even get the code …?"

"A little birdie told me," he said just as simply again.

Pawn stopped and stared at Ratcliff as he disappeared inside. The boy adjusted his assault rifle in his hands and followed. Ratcliff was already a good few paces ahead, his own rifle swung over his shoulder, ignored. Pawn looked down to the weapon that Ratcliff now had in his own hands, and his eyes widened. "Is that … a handgun?"

Ratcliff glanced over his shoulder in Pawn's direction, but he didn't actually look at him. "Yeah."

"B-but … those aren't standard issue for the army division, M-Mr. Ratcliff."

"I know that, yeah."

Pawn was quiet for a while, wanting to ask more questions, but he refrained.

Ratcliff looked back at him, forcing a shaky smile. "Don't worry about it, okay? I didn't steal it, if that's what you're thinking, yeah."

"No, it's not that. I just … want to know why you have it."

Ratcliff was silent for a moment, stopping in front of a large metal staircase that led up into a sealed chamber. "It's a gun," he said, cautiously. "Why do any of us have guns?"

Pawn said nothing, looking away with a grimace.

"We're not supposed to be in here right now, yeah?" he said quickly. "This gun has a silencer on it. If I need to use it, it won't give away our location to the others."

Pawn continued to say nothing.

Ratcliff groaned, rubbing at his forehead with the tips of his fingers, calming the annoyance in his voice. "Sorry, yeah? Just … don't speak right now."

Pawn still said nothing.

"Well … yeah. Keep doin' what you're doin' already, pretty much."

Both men finally glanced around at their surroundings when their eyes became adjusted to the dim and scattered light. Only a few floodlights lined the metal walls, casting not even enough light to see in front of them. But bluish-green and eerie hues spotlighted the area in rows, emanating from pod-like structures flanking the staircase.

They approached them warily, weapons drawn up, yet the stillness in the reactor gave them no reason to feel uneasy. It was the lights that wavered that made them feel that way, as they were casting dancing shadows and bright reflections along the walls, churning with whatever substance was filling them. Hesitance to look inside weighed on them.

Creatures – monstrous beings … that was what was staring back at them. Deformed souls with gnarled horns protruding from their skulls … growing until they reached the inner walls of the pods. Their skin was but a festering hide, hardened over in some places, ulcerous in others. Teeth were barred, not from barbarity, but from what once looked like lips having been consumed by the tempering flesh. Each creature down each row looked exactly the same – menacing and astray, and each row represented what they could only assume were stages of these creatures' pitiful existence.

"What … what … are these things?" Pawn whispered, unable to stop the frightened seizing of his bottom lip.

Ratcliff shook his head – eyes unable to blink; unable to look away if even for a moment. "Monsters."

The boy beside him made some sort of squeaking noise, but nothing more.

"Let's … move on. C'mon, Pawn, yeah?" He tugged at Pawn's sleeve, but still found himself staring into the dark eyes staring back at him. They were unmoving. "We … have to move on. There's no point in trying to figure out what these things are … yeah?"

Pawn only nodded and finally forced himself to take a step back. He nearly stepped off the platform they stood on.

Ratcliff steadied him as he began to topple. "Just … stay here. I'm going to see what's past this door. If anything happens, give me a holler, yeah?"

He left Pawn's side and started up the metal staircase. His eyes narrowed in the darkness, trying to read large writing that spanned across the chamber door. He could only make out a few curves of the letters that were able to reflect the little lighting that was in the room.

Pawn's voice stopped him then, his normal tone much higher in pitch and laced with confusion. "M-Mr. Ratcliff!"

Ratcliff turned quickly, nearly slipping off a step himself. He saw that the boy had moved up a few rows and was staring wide-eyed into one of the pods. "What's wrong?"

"It moved."

He hurried down, having to brace himself against a pod as he rounded onto the platform from off the staircase. He reached the boy, nearly shoving him aside. "Moved?"

"Look … it's …"

"Human," Ratcliff whispered, his hand going to the glass where the creature had its own. A twisted claw now, but knuckles were still prominent, and even dark hair lined its forearm. "What … the fuck? These are humans. All of these things!"

"But why?"

"How the hell should–"

The creature moved again, slowly, but it traced what was a finger across the glass in no meaningful pattern … no lettering or any sign … just a single line. That seemed to be all it could muster, and its arm sank down slowly in the mako it was submerged in.

With its arm down, Ratcliff saw him.

"… Graves?"

The creature didn't respond, but familiar eyes stared back at him, familiar lips parting as though to speak.

"My gods … what the fuck's been done to you?"

"Mr. Ratcliff, please, let's just get out of here!"

Ratcliff slammed up against the pod, his hands pounding blindly at the small control panel. There was a series of beeps mixing with his frantic mutters, and siphons began to quickly drain the mako inside. The hinges to the pod made a hydraulic hiss and the creature slumped out as the door came forward.

Ratcliff turned the creature over slowly. It writhed, its semi-deformed limbs twitching, almost seizing. Its dark skin had yet to turn fully, but it was raised and scabrous. Its breathing was heavy, as though using its lungs was an alien concept, and the way it tried to move was disjointed, as though any impulse from its brain was ignored. Ratcliff's eyes were trying to pick out the more human features, but he was unable to look away from the monster that was in his arms. Features that were once of his friend's, now were overshadowed with depravity.

"H-how can you be so sure it's Graves …?" Pawn whispered, taking a step away from them.

Beads of mako rolled across the mutations on its body; it rolled across the image of an open cage and bird imprinted on its chest. It tried to lift a hand to Ratcliff, but failed.

He stared, his hand tracing across what once was a proud tattoo on his friend's body. "I-I've come for you, Graves," he said, his voice wavering through an optimistic, but delirious tone.

The creature did nothing but stare up at him – eyes wide, but blank.

Ratcliff reached up, brushing the glowing substance from a horn that was beginning to grow from its head before it trickled down into its eyes. "Let's get you outta here, yeah? I'll take you somewhere … I'll f-find someone who can h-help you, yeah?" He began to stand, putting his hands beneath the creature's underarms, trying to pull it up with him. It slipped from him, thumping back to the door of the pod. He bent back down to try again.

"Mr. Ratcliff …"

"C'mon, Graves, get y-your ass up, yeah? Come with me, yeah?" Ratcliff was clawing at the creature now, trying to hoist him up, but his own body was shaking too much. "We can't leave each other, so …" he muttered, grunting as he tried to lift the creature one more time, but it was slumping now, "… l-let's go. S-stop being a stubborn ass, yeah?"

"Mr. Ratcliff."

"Goddammit, Graves! Come on!" Ratcliff was yelling now, frantically panting between his words as dropped beside it, his hands gripping its shoulders. "You can't stay like this! You can't give up like th–"

The creature released what sounded like a sigh – pained and relieved at the same time.

Ratcliff stared in horror, watching as its body relaxed, the seizing in its limbs subsiding. He looked up at the pod in the same horror. "Oh … gods … that was … life support … wasn't it?" He suddenly reached out, gripping Pawn by the pant leg, and the boy yelped from fright. "H-help me get him back in there, and we can figure out what to d–"

A hand – one that was now so different, yet still held that strength that Ratcliff would never forget – bumped against his chest, stopping him from speaking, stopping him from moving. That hand dropped, and the creature just continued to stare with those eyes. They were pleading now.

A distant gunshot rumbled through the stillness of the mountain outside.

"Mr. Ratcliff," Pawn said, kneeling beside him closely, "w-we need to get out of here! Someone's coming!" Ratcliff just ignored him.

"You … can't," he whispered, tears falling. Moments passed of him staring in disbelief, watching as it closed its eyes. Silence.

"M-Mr. Ratcliff!"

"You said you'd watch over me!" Ratcliff was screaming now – angrily, hysterically. "How can you do that if you're dead!"

He felt Pawn tugging desperately on his arms then, pulling him away from the now lifeless body of what was once Casey Graves.

"Let me go!" He thrashed, but was able to get no where.

"S-someone's c-coming for us!"

"I don't care!" He freed himself from Pawn's grasp and dropped back down to the creature's side. "Casey, please!" He was shaking it now, his shouting nearly incoherent. "Casey, goddammit!" His head slowly sank down to its chest when there was no response. "I … I …"

Pawn was now at his side, and his tugging persisted. "P-Please, they're p-probably on their way s-searching for us. W-we need to go, p-please."

Ratcliff slowly looked at the boy. He, too, was crying.

There was more gunfire, this time closer.

"Fuck," Ratcliff muttered, the realization finally hitting him. Panic – immense panic began to follow. "Help me get him back into the pod, yeah!"

They stood together, both trying to lift the dead creature back into the pod in a frenzy. Both were letting out sobs of fear and hysteria as they could hear yelling now between the gunfire. It was their names.

Pawn collapsed onto the floor, and Ratcliff against the closed pod, both dripping from mako and sweat. The pod was making a strange mechanical noise, but the door held and the creature was back in its prison – now a coffin.

"What have I done, yeah?"

The boy looked back at him, rising slowly to his feet. "W-we gotta go …"

"What the fuck have I done!" Ratcliff shouted, pushing himself away from the pod.

"I-I …"

"Go!" Ratcliff was now waving that gun in his hand. "Just get out of here, yeah!"

Pawn stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, looking as though Ratcliff had just spoken another language to him. "But … you're n-not coming?"

Ratcliff looked at Pawn, his face streaked with tears and red from emotion. He tried to mouth something, but no words came out.

More gunfire; very close gunfire.

Ratcliff was grabbed as firmly as Pawn possibly could. Even as the man kicked and screamed, somehow the boy managed to pull him to the front, trying his best not to look over the thrashing body to the rows of pods behind. But he caught glimpses of the creature in the pod, now sunken against the glass window, as inanimate as the others once more. Each time Ratcliff would shriek Graves' name through rabid sobs, it only made focusing on getting them out of the reactor that much harder.

The heavy door was shut with adrenaline, which immediately deflated once the mountain air hit him. They reeked of processed mako – an earthy smell now masked with chemicals. It was a distinctive smell, but one that was seeping through every crack in the reactor, so they hoped that it would go unnoticed by the men that were hunting for them.

"Mr. Ratcliff, p-please, y-you have to calm d-down." Pawn had to repeat this a few times until his stuttering evened out and until Ratcliff finally was able to listen through his own cries.

They could hear angry yells of a fight now between all the gunfire, and footsteps were coming closer. Pawn had the sense to straighten his uniform out and urged Ratcliff to do the same as they scrambled down the steps of the reactor. The handgun was tucked away in Ratcliff's trousers beneath his uniform blouse, and tears were wiped away with the hope that the night would shroud any evidence of them having been there.

There was a glimmering light coming up the path, and they realized that it was a helmet reflecting the moon. It was Haskin.

They both had to force themselves to calm. It seemed impossible, but as the man neared, fear easily wiped away their hysteria. Their breathing somehow leveled, albeit knees were still quaking, and their crying was hidden in both the night, and in the shadow of the reactor behind them.

"W-what do we say?" Pawn whispered to Ratcliff, but the man ignored him. He was too busy muttering to himself too quickly and incoherently for him to respond.

"Don't fuck up," Pawn had heard him say between the mutterings, but it was said to himself.

Haskin finally made his way up the path to the reactor, his assault rifle still drawn and aimed right at them. "What the hell are you two doing here? You know you were not authorized to come here, let alone even leave the inn!" he shouted, even though he had fully approached them now.

They straightened under his presence and under the presence of the weapon still aimed at their chests.

"I understand, sir. My apologies, sir," Ratcliff said, and Pawn managed to repeat this as well.

"Explain yourself!" Haskin wiped at a bit of blood on his face, and they weren't sure if it was his own, or from whatever monster he had been fighting up the mountain. He looked exhausted; he lowered his weapon.

Ratcliff hesitated to speak, but when he did, his voice came out even and calm. "I couldn't sleep, so I went down to smoke a cigarette," he said as his hand fumbled for the crumpled pack of cigarettes from the abandoned truck he still carried, "and I thought I saw someone heading up the mountain who looked like Graves. I thought that I could follow him and see where he went." He motioned over to Pawn, who was still slightly trembling and staring at him wide-eyed. "Pawn noticed that I was gone and came looking for me. We came upon the reactor, and we just surveyed the surroundings for any sign of squatting."

There was a long pause between them, and both men were looking at Ratcliff questionably.

Ratcliff fidgeted, his pulse somehow becoming even faster. His mind began to pick apart everything he had said, going over it to make sure it at least sounded legit. But by the looks on their faces, it most likely didn't.

"This area is restricted," Haskin said simply, his eyes burrowing into Ratcliff's. "Not only did you leave your post, you put yourself and Belov in danger, which put us in danger coming to look for you."

"I understand. I guess I got a little overzealous. I didn't want us to fail our mission," Ratcliff said apologetically, but his own heart lurched over his words.

Haskin's eyes seemed to be peering right through them still, past their tense forms and to the entrance to the reactor. But he looked back at them, giving them a simple nod. "Report back to the inn," was all he said.

They both hesitated, shuffling their feet on the ground.

"Go!"

They both stiffened again and turned sharply on their heels.

"Come on, Pawn, let's go, yeah?" Haskin was able to hear Ratcliff say as they started to head down the path.

He got onto his radio, contacting Luxiere. "They're headed back now." He looked to the mako reactor again. "I'll follow them shortly."

Haskin wasn't able to hear Ratcliff's cries of anguish down the path not a few minutes later.

… To be continued in Chapter Forty-Three: No Sleep, No Answers.

Ending Author's Note: Oh, Graves, you naughty boy … always getting into some sort of trouble. Elici will have to watch over you now to make sure you behave.

… What? Don't look at me like that.

And where the hell did Ratcliff get a hand grenade! Er...I mean gun. Hm … quite peculiar indeed.

Pawn's real name is Alexei Belov, by the way. That's who Haskin was referring to towards the end there. Once again, I do not own Pawn's character. He's my darling friend Rina's OC, used with her permission of course.

Well, I derped in my last artist comments. I was originally gonna skip three weeks, but then I realized the date I had given for this update was only two...*facepalm*...so you all got the chapter one week earlier than I intended. You're all spoiled!

Speaking of spoiled. More Malady fan-art! This time, it's the opening scene *misleading nosebleed time!* in doujinshi form! This is by the very talented and awesome KishikoKei! (Remove the spaces before entering them in your web browser!):

h t t p : / / kishiko-kei. deviantart. com/ art/ ZackxCloud-Final-Version-183073081

Nnngh...misleading art is misleading. But still yummy, nonetheless.

Also, Outai Tabibito drew me a cute something-something as well! Cloud in a kimono! Zack nosebleeding! HILARIOUSLY AWESOME, MUCH?:

h t t p : / / glaciergirl. Deviantart. com/ art/ Little-something-for-Ziggy-183501318

Zack's noodley arms crack me up.

Thanks and love to both of you!

So this time, I'm going to do three weeks again. Writing has been slow for me lately. I hit a bit of a dry spell for a bit, but I'm confident that I'll get my muse back soon. Just be patient, yes? Next chapter will be Tuesday, November 16th!